diatribalArts

The four elements of Earth, Water, Air and Fire found unification in the fifth element, or fifth essence, most often referred to as Aether; though, it is sometimes known by other names such as “Idea”, “Breath” or even “A divine thing”. The Latin term quinta essentia is that which exists outside of the material world and is thought to be heavenly—possessing the power of life (the breath that animates). From quinta essentia we get the English derivative, quintessential, and so is the divine to the creative process that uses as its medium the other four elements to find its tangible expression.

The number three in all cultures seems to have a mystical almost magic quality. As a Christian, it speaks to the Trinity, of unity in diversity of the distinct but indivisible; so is there almost a holy trinity to the triumvirate universals of Truth, Beauty and Goodness. Each is quintessential to a life with meaning, and each must be considered in relation to the others to be fully comprehended. For sure, each can be looked at and classified apart from the others, but none of them posses any persistent value alone; the Beauty found from knowing the True gives one passion in its pursuit; it is the transcendent Truth in a thing that makes it palatable, good and even beautiful. In fact, Beauty and Goodness (or Justice), are the necessary actions of the Truthful as it finds a manifestation in the everyday. Ergo, I have three things to which I bow and constantly submit my life and my art; these are three things that stamp my everything: Truth, Beauty & Goodness coalesced in one being—God.

I have found that I too wrestle with God but not like Jacob who wrestled for the blessing; I wrestle that I might avoid any blessing at all.

Jacob        
wrestles           with
angels;              I…I wrestle
with                   myself.
Knees               raised, legs
wrapped,          body tensed,
breathless       to touch
the hip               out
of joint              so
as to      receive
some
blessing that
I  cannot     grant.
Folding              in and
over               myself…
rolling like a                 möbius
(I fight the          perpetual fight,
pose the               perpetual
question)            and thereby
thieve    unendingly my
own     despised
birthright.
In this             I am
undone;          in this I
avoid forever              God
                                    face-to-
                        face.

“[We are] children of nothing making gods from the voids in ourselves. Creating heavens from the seeds we were not patient enough to grow…”

Sad Poems: Suffocating in Cures
—the alcoholic poet

Warm, soil rich…nail staining, crevice penetrating
Hand cupped earth…it reeks of decadence. It will grow
Anything! Anything will grow here (wild, brambled-
Growth if there is no care). Long rows of furrows, great
Wrinkles like a consternated brow…or deep sulci
Framed by mounds of grey matter that cry for just
A little seed. It is not the seed or the earth
That matter (the mind yields up it’s strength to both
Thistles or thoughts, alike). It is the dirt-caking
Labor that produces. It is not the green growth; it
Is the knees and the hands loam-brown tinted that stain
The lips and teeth tannic-red; it is the yellow-
Brown tinged rag anointed with sweat and toiling oils
That savory sweet floods the nose like a burnt off’ring
To the Lord; it is the spilt blood that waters the
Cursed mind to move sapling thoughts through the surface toward
Harvest as first fruits to cast on a living altar.

To sit, a part of liturgy, and smell the censing—
Rich reeking,
The scent of exhausted cigarettes wafting
In slow wisps
From the open mouths of singing thuribles
Who sway
As the Spirit moves them.
To breathe deeply their sweet savor;
It burns the lungs.
It waters the eyes;
tte
why
aee
te
ehy
rte
sss
tri
het
etw
eaa
ywt
ete
Some, though in the smog grow,
For the sake of the Christ-child,
Smug. for, we are told,
That along with the wicked,
He despised their second-hand smoke.
Their sin blown in cavalier rings…
They are far too comfortable with it!
“NO SINNING!” Our sign reads
(A red cross through a cigarette) to censor the censers.
“Take that outside; it don’t belong here.
Our Lord cleans feet…nothing else for sure.
And definitely not carpets or…
Or upholstery.”
Reply the incensed for Jesus
Who sacrifice everyone but themselves
And whose prayers
Lay on the
Alter
But
Do
Not
B
u
r
n
.

Her hands are cold and so, too, her feet;
I offer her the warmth of my blanketing flesh.
Against my body is all our love’s heat.

Her star burns brightly, but when next we meet,
It has flamed out and in need of swift refresh;
Her hands are cold and so, too, her feet.

My limbs, electric folds to wrap complete
Her body spent, cause her cheeks to blush.
Against my body is all our love’s heat,

That kinetic vigor of our retreat
Into each other’s covetous arms. We rush.
Her hands are cold and so, too, her feet,

Like winter steel desirous of the beat
And friction rub—strike, as if sparks to thresh.
Against my body is all our love’s heat,

Which ravenous time could not e’er deplete
For, it, from my burning love for her does gush.
Her hands are cold and so, too, her feet.
Against my body is all our love’s heat.

recently ran across the question, “What is the relationship between reason and faith?” Certainly, it is not a new question. Kierkegaard has dealt with the issue quite extensively in his writings, as have many others. Today, nonetheless we are confronted with a very Platonic parceling of the two terms as related only through their distinctives, and as such we have been told that to exercise faith is to demonstrate a lack of reason. As a reflective Christian, I take seriously this charge; for I am often caught in the middle of both worlds—the world of faith and the world of reason. I cannot in either case find myself capitulating to the orthodox, fundamentalism advocated by either; for I cannot accept everything in what some might call blind faith nor can I assert that the science of reason can provide any level of definitive certainty in which some type of faith, which this camp vehemently disdains, is required.

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These are the last two revisions. It is now up to my wife to let me know which one she likes best. I played with the architectural/blueprint sketch a touch more and added some color. The second uses blue to suggest precision, expertise and stability; additionally blocks are used which seem to imply “building blocks”. The second is more parchment-like; verticalized it gives a little more sense of prestige.

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The juices keep flowing (or I haven’t yet been quite satisfied with my work). Ergo, a few more submissions.

…the compass keeps the attention on the design element of the business. green is used to connote harmony, freshness, renewal and creativity. In the second, the arc (and visual circle) gives some since of longevity as if it will be true artisan work worth passing on and on.

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I am working on a logo for my wife’s new business (Artisan Kitchens). Most of my creative energy has been invested toward that end; ergo they are posted here. By no means am I done; I’ll likely post others as they approach some level of completion (as for now they are just swimming in the deep-end of my head)…

…building on the drafting/design theme, the blue embodies a more industrial look while the brown gives a since of classicism (like old da Vinci drawings).

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