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Autoethnography of Paint Talks: Questioning the Beautiful Collision between Visual Communication and Fundamentalist Christian Churches

by

Kent L. Mereness, B. A.

A Thesis

In

COMMUNICATION STUDIES

Submitted to the Graduate Faculty

of Texas Tech University in Partial Fulfillment of

the Requirements for the Degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

Approved

Dr. Amy N. Heuman

Chairperson of the Committee

Dr. Mark A. Gring

Dr. David E. Williams

Fred Hartmeister Dean of the Graduate School

August 2008

Copyright 2008, Kent Mereness

Paint Talks images are considered artistic works; they may not be reused or reproduced

without the written consent of the artist.

Texas Tech University, Kent L. Mereness, August 2008

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First and foremost, thank you, LORD. Thank you for healing my sweet Brynn.

Thank you for Paint Talks. And, thank you for allowing me to complete this thesis. You will

be who You will be, You have been with me, and I know that You will always be with me.

Brynn, you are my greatest gift—twice (deuce). How could I not live with a smile?

Your love, beauty, strength, wisdom, patience, and composure are constant, and they are

making me into the person that I was created to be. Thank you for your undying support

throughout this trying work. I see God in you, you are my best friend, and I love you.

Grandma and Grandpa, I earnestly pray that this work honors you, for I know that

honor is all that you have ever brought to me. Anyone who truly knows me knows that you

are my heroes. I see your love for me in your assistance with this project—once again, I

participated in something that you were not familiar with, and once again, you supported me

wholeheartedly, with vigor and honest interest. I love you more than you will ever know.

To my family (Mereness, Kelly, and Wade)—I love you and I thank you for your

prayers and support for Brynn, my education, and this thesis.

To my second family—The Providence Road Church of Christ in Charlotte, North

Carolina (specifically, Jeff Walling, Kent Massey, Jeff, Kim, and Chad Bass, and Gary

Hixson)—thank you for investing your creative lives in me. Kent Massey, Paint Talks exists

because you believed in me and because you keep on believing in me. I love you, friend.

Ryan Kinane, you are a gifted person and a wonderful friend. Please continue

holding me to a high standard. I owe a debt of gratitude, for the completion of my master‟s

degree and the completion of this thesis, to you, and to countless other Communication

Studies students, peers, co-workers, and professors.


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Finally, to my wonderful thesis committee—thank you.

“Doc” Williams, you are what my wife wishes I would be—chilled. You are a

professional, you are an outstanding teacher, and you have calmed me down many times

simply with your likable presence, positive attitude, and incredible composure. Thank you

for your love of little league baseball and your work on this project.

Dr. Gring, you stand firm in what you believe and you are a moral rock to me. You

have an uncanny ability to motivate people—especially your students. I greatly appreciate

you helping me pursue my passion for visual communication by overseeing my research of

visual rhetoric and the rhetoric of the arts and the church. Thank you for your work on this

thesis and…for keeping me from throwing it in the trash last Christmas. I believe that the

Texas Tech University Department of Communication Studies is GREAT because of you.

And, Dr. Heuman—my chair, my psychiatrist—I am eternally indebted to you for

your remarkable patience with me. I truly believe that God placed you in my path at a

critical time to teach me how to communicate my honest emotions through writing

autoethnography. The method and theory helped me through the most difficult time of my

life and provided me with a journal that will always remind me—God is faithful! I am

privileged—to have had you as a professor and to have you as a friend. I sincerely believe that

God gave you remarkable gifts of intelligence, steel, passion, and compassion. Thank you

for consistently choosing to bless others with your gifts—thank you for choosing to bless me

with your gifts. Please know that I know that you went the extra mile for me with this thesis.

For constantly encouraging me and for never giving up on me

—thank you.


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TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS…………………………………………............................ ii

ABSTRACT……………………………………………………………………….. viii

LIST OF FIGURES………………………………………………………………….. x

I. INTRODUCTION……………………………………………………………....... 1

II. THE CALLING…………………………………………………….....................8

The Calling of Paint Talks…………………………………………...................... 13

The Calling of Autoethnography………………………………………………. 16

Therapy and Communication Studies.…………………………………………. 20

Ethnography and Autoethnography “…in a Nutshell”………………………... 23

Autoethnography and Culture…………………………………………………. 26

The Challenge of Autoethnography…………………………………………… 30

Faith and Autoethnography…………………….……………………………... 33

Asking BIG Questions…................................................................................................ 41

III. BUILDING AND STRETCHING...……………………………………………. 46

Defining Christian Fundamentalism……………………………………….. 47

Cutting the Frame……………………………………………………………... 54

Defining Perfectionism……………………………………………………. 55

Stretching the Canvas…………………………………………............................. 59

Defining Legalism…………………………………………………………. 60

Baptized by Fire……………………………………………………….. 65

Walking in Fear………………………………………………………... 68

Setting the Canvas……………………………………………………………... 70

Embracing Grace………………………………………………………….. 74


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IV. THE IMAGE….……………………………………...……………………….. 77

Developing Paint Talks Images………………………………………………… 81

“Key Piece”: Message……………………………………………………... 82

“Key Piece”: Icon…………………………………………………………. 83

“Key Piece”: Audience…………………………………………………….. 83

“Key Piece”: The Layered Image…………………………………………... 84

The Image is Ambiguous……………………………………………………… 85

The Image is Argumentative…………………………………………………... 89

The Image is Persuasive……………………………………………………….. 91

Icebreaker……………………………………………………………………... 92

Imagine…Superhero………………………………………………………. 93

Imagine…Halloween……………………………………………………… 93

Imagine…Face or Vase?…………………………………………………... 94

Imagine…Right Brain v. Left Brain……………………………………….. 94

Imagine…Beethoven……………………………………………………… 95

A Secular View of the Arts……………………………………............................. 96

A Fundamentalist View of the Arts……………………………………………. 97

A Biblical View of the Arts……………………………………………………. 98

A Personal View of the Arts…………………………………………………. 100

A Challenging View of the Arts……………………………………………… 101

Being True to the ARTIST…………………………………………………... 105

Being True to the CHRISTIAN……………………………………………… 115

V. PERFORMING…….………………………………………………………….. 123

The Set……..…………………………………………………........................... 124

…Innovative Questions about the Canvas……………………………….. 126


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…Innovative Questions about the Easel……………………........................ 128

…Innovative Questions about the Acrylic Painting……………………..... 130

…Innovative Questions about the Black Light Painting………………….. 134

The Script……………………………………………………………………. 138

Matching Schedules……………………..………………………………... 140

Communicating the Physical Setting……………………………………... 140

Communicating the Spiritual Setting……………………………………... 141

Miscommunication………………………………………………………. 142

Communicating the Sermon……..……………………………………….. 143

The Introduction…………………………………………………….. 145

The Body…………………………………………………………….. 146

The Conclusion……………………………………………………… 148

The Body on a Stage…………………………………………………………. 149

Kent Mereness, for All to See……………………………………………. 149

Kent Mereness, NOT for All to See….………..………………………….. 150

The Purpose…………………………………………………………………. 150

VI. PAINTING..…………………………………………………………………. 163

Courageous Painting…………………………………………………………. 163

West Texas Palette…………………………………………………………… 168

Dead Painting………………………………………………………………... 171

Confession…………………………………………………………………… 172

Dead Painting Raised to Life…………………………………………………. 174

Live Painting…………………………………………………………………. 178

Dead Painting, Again………………………………………………………… 179

Dead Painting Raised to Life, Again………………………………………….. 183


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Live Painting, Again………………………………………………………….. 183

Painting a Question………………………………………………………….. 184

Cleaning Up………………………………………………………………….. 187

Reflecting…………………………………………………………………….. 191

…on Painting……………………………………………………………. 191

…on the Sunset………………………………………………………….. 192

…on the Church…………………………………………………………. 194

…on the Artist‟s Hand………………………………………………….... 196

…on Autoethnography…...……………………………………………… 198

…on Asking BIG Questions……………………………………………... 198

REFERENCES…………………………………..……………………………….. 200

A: PAINT TALKS ACRYLIC AND BLACK LIGHT IMAGES..........………………. 207

B: PAINT TALKS MULTI-POINT IMAGES………………………………………. 211

C: PAINT TALKS IN PROCESS………………………………………………….. 212

D: SPECIALTY PAINT TALKS IMAGES…………………………………………. 214

E: ADDITIONAL PAINT TALKS IMAGES……………………………………….. 217

F: FIRST PAINT TALKS BLACK LIGHT IMAGE………………………………... 218

G: FIRST PAINT TALKS IMAGE………………….............................................. 219

H: THESIS PAINTING…………...……………………………………………… 220


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ABSTRACT

The purpose of the following thesis is to perform an autoethnographic study of the

artist in a fundamentalist Christian church through the lens of Paint Talks—a Christian

performance painting ministry. It aims to create conversation among scholars concerning

the role of autoethnography, faith, and visual communication in the field of Communication

Studies, as well as provide therapy for the fundamentalist Christian—especially the

fundamentalist Christian artist.

The following narrative is personal—in it, I record the events of one Paint Talks

performance, one calendar day spent at my grandparent‟s West Texas farm, and my search

for a response to one BIG question (Goodall, 2000) about communication, art, and faith:

What is the role of the artist in the fundamentalist Christian church? I answer this question through a

series of smaller questions, namely, Does autoethnography choose us?, What is the relationship between

Christian Fundamentalism, perfectionism, and legalism?, Am I being true to myself as an artist and a

Christian through Paint Talks?, and, Why are Paint Talks accepted in the fundamentalist Christian

church? Returning to the place where much of my worldview and many of my

communicative and artistic skills were formed, journaling through each step of the Paint

Talks process (calling, canvas, image, performance, and painting), and writing

autoethnographically about my experience, I discover an absence concerning tensions of

faith in contemporary autoethnographies, record the paralyzing effects of legalism and

perfectionism in the life of a fundamentalist Christian artist, find out that I am usually, but

not always, true to myself as an artist and a Christian through Paint Talks, and affirm that

Paint Talks performances are accepted in fundamentalist Christian churches primarily

because they speak a clear, fundamentalist Christian message. Ultimately, and most of all, I


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discover that the role of the artist in the fundamentalist Christian church is to communicate

truth, and that the fundamentalist Christian artist is reaching out for a supportive Christian

community.

It is important to note, however, that the discoveries of this thesis are not final—

they are emergent.


x

LIST OF FIGURES

1. Grandma and Grandpa‟s Barn, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)………………….. 45

2. Constructing the Right Angle of a Canvas Frame, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)…... 54

3. Stretching and Stapling Cloth to Frame, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)…………… 59

4. Mixing Glue and Water Before Setting the Canvas, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)… 70

5. Finished Canvas, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)……………………………….. 76

6. Stricken Child Crawling towards Food Camp, photo by Kevin Carter (1993)………..... 78

7. Superman Logo, DC Comics (n.d.)………………………………………………... 94

8. The Haywain, John Constable (1821)…………………………………………… 105

9. The Adoration of the Lamb, Jan van Eyck (c. 1422-1441)…………………………. 108

10. Moving the Canvas, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)…………………………... 126

11. The Constructed Easel (face down), photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)………….. 128

12. Painting Supplies, photo by Brynn Mereness (2007)……………………………. 130

13. The Black Light Crucifix Painting, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)…………….. 134

14. The Body on the Stage, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)………………………... 150

15. Cover of Ethnographic I (Ellis, 2004), Autoethnography by Karen Scott-Hoy (n.d.). 165

16. Facing God‟s Art, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008)……………………………. 178

17. Autoethnography of Paint Talks, Kent Mereness (2008)………………………….. 190

18. The Beautiful Collision acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2007)………………….. 207

19. The Beautiful Collision black light painting, Kent Mereness (2007)……………… 207

20. Death to Life acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………... 207

21. Death to Life black light painting, Kent Mereness (2007)………………………. 207

22. Faithfulness acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)…………………………...... 208


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23. Faithfulness black light painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………………... 208

24. Do Not Fear acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2006)…………………………... 208

25. Do Not Fear black light painting, Kent Mereness (2006)………………………. 208

26. The Light acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)……………………………... 209

27. The Light black light painting, Kent Mereness (2003)…………………………. 209

28. Money is Fleeting acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2007)……………………….. 209

29. Money is Fleeting black light painting, Kent Mereness (2007)………………….... 209

30. What are these Hands for? acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………. 210

31. What are these Hands for? black light painting, Kent Mereness (2003)…………... 210

32. Let Go! acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)……………………………….. 210

33. Let Go! black light painting, Kent Mereness (2003)…………………………… 210

34. Bread of Life acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………………….... 211

35. Christmas Gift acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2004)…………………………. 211

36. Your Word is Beautiful acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2002)…………………. 211

37. Focus, Fruit, Fidelity acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)…………………… 211

38. Water, Wind, Fire, Stone acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)……………….. 211

39. See, Touch acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)……………………………... 211

40. What a Fellowship acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2002)…………………….... 211

41. Multi-point black light painting, Kent Mereness (2007)………………………. 211

42. The Beautiful Collision: Color, Kent Mereness (2007)………………………….... 212

43. The Beautiful Collision: Blackout, Kent Mereness (2007)………………………... 212

44. The Beautiful Collision: Planets, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………. 212

45. The Beautiful Collision: Light, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………..... 212


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46. The Beautiful Collision: Explosion, Kent Mereness (2007)………………………. 212

47. The Beautiful Collision: Beautiful Collision, Kent Mereness (2007)……………….... 212

48. Death to Life: Desert, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………………... 212

49. Death to Life: Death, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………………… 212

50. Death to Life: Stream, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………………... 212

51. Death to Life: Life, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………………….. 212

52. Death to Life: Death to Life, Kent Mereness (2007)……………………………... 212

53. Money is Fleeting: Green, Kent Mereness (2007)………………………………... 213

54. Money is Fleeting: Dollar Bill, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………… 213

55. Money is Fleeting: Worship, Kent Mereness (2007)……………………………... 213

56. Money is Fleeting: Burning, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………….... 213

57. Money is Fleeting: Is it worth it?, Kent Mereness (2007)……………………….... 213

58. Money is Fleeting: Money is Fleeting, Kent Mereness (2007)………………………. 213

59. Do not Fear: Sea and Sky, Kent Mereness (2006)……………………………… 213

60. Do not Fear: Sea Details, Kent Mereness (2006)……………………………….. 213

61. Do not Fear: Rock Details, Kent Mereness (2006)……………………………... 213

62. Do not Fear: Lighthouse, Kent Mereness (2006)……………………………….. 213

63. Do not Fear: Troubled Sea, Kent Mereness (2006)…………………………….. 213

64. Do not Fear: Do not Fear, Kent Mereness (2006)………………. ……………… 213

65. Adulterous Woman cover pencil and pen sketch, Kent Mereness (2004)………... 214

66. Adulterous Woman final acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2004)………………... 214

67. The Prodigal cover pencil and pen sketch, Kent Mereness (2004)……………… 214

68. The Prodigal final acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2004)……………………… 214


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69. Greatest Gift cover pencil and pen sketch, Kent Mereness (2003)……………... 215

70. Greatest Gift mirror, Kent Mereness (2003)…………………………………… 215

71. Jesus is the Light acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)……………………….. 215

72. Extreme acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………………………. 216

73. You Wanna Be a Star? acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………… 216

74. Reload acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………………………… 216

75. Thematic Image black light painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………….. 216

76. Child acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………………………….. 217

77. Potter‟s Hands acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)…………………………. 217

78. Shipwreck acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)…………………………….... 217

79. Soldier acrylic painting, Kent Mereness (2003)………………………………… 217

80. It is in You #1 transparency, photographer unknown (2004)………………….. 217

81. It is in You #2 pencil sketch, Kent Mereness (2004)…………………………... 217

82. Darkness pencil sketch, Kent Mereness (2004)………………………………... 217

83. The King pencil sketch, Kent Mereness (2004)………………………………… 217

84. Strength pencil sketch, Kent Mereness (2007)…………………………………. 217

85. Lion pencil sketch, Kent Mereness (2005)…………………………………….. 217

86. Newborn pencil sketch, Kent Mereness (2005)………………………………... 217

87. Lighthouse #1 pencil and marker sketch, Kent Mereness (2005)……………….. 217

88. Lighthouse #2 pencil sketch, Kent Mereness (2004)…………………………… 217

89. Shield pencil and pen sketch, Kent Mereness (2002)…………………………... 218

90. Break the Chains charcoal and pastel drawing, Kent Mereness (2001)………….. 219

91. Autoethnography of Paint Talks with cross, Kent Mereness (2008)………………. 220


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92. Autoethnography of Paint Talks without cross, Kent Mereness (2008)…………… 220


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CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

I used to believe that if I managed to graduate from Texas Tech University with a

Master‟s Degree in Communication Studies, but without specifically studying Paint Talks, it

would mean that I cheated myself. I used to think that if I completed my graduate school

requirements without researching and writing about Paint Talks, the most impacting form of

communication that I have ever participated in, it would mean that I missed an opportunity to

better, and better understand, a unique communicative work.

So, I studied.

I researched and I wrote.

And, now I know that the stakes were actually much higher.

The benefits of the following study are not only individual, they are collective—they

are for the scholar, the artist, and the person of faith. This thesis does more than improve a

specific work; it reveals rich cultural meaning.

Before I unveil more about this special form of communication—I want you to

experience it. I encourage you to find and watch the enclosed DVD of the 2008 Christ

Community Church Easter Paint Talks performance entitled, The Beautiful Collision.

(Right now, if possible.)

Paint Talks. It is the best way I know to communicate about the process you just

witnessed, the process by which I paint murals on large canvases, during a sermon or a

worship service, in order to communicate my personal Christian faith.

Paint Talks. I believe it is a calling.


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The work originally started with a two by three foot drawing pad, a box of chalks,

and a childlike desire to spread the Christian Gospel through art. Since that day almost

seven years ago, the LORD has blessed me with the opportunity to be a part of nearly one

hundred Paint Talks performances—though the process has changed (to acrylic painting) and

the product has grown (to six by eight foot canvases), the purpose is still very much the

same. Now, I believe that God is providing me with the opportunity to understand and share

the rich cultural meaning of this blessed experience.

At first glance, Paint Talks seems to be a simple process—even to me. However, just

as stepping close to a painted canvas reveals rich complexity, so stepping up to Paint Talks

sharpens many otherwise blurry personal and emotional layers of communication, art, and

faith. These layers express my deepest beliefs and ideas as a Communication Studies scholar,

an artist, and a fundamentalist Christian. Paint Talks is the place where the paint of my life

flows onto a canvas for all to see—and judge. It is a highly self-reflexive, subjective,

evocative, conversational, vulnerable, emotional, difficult (Stowe, 2005), poetic (Pelias,

2004), therapeutic (Ellis, 2004), and emergent (Richardson, 2000) form of communication.

Perhaps, because I am an artist, I see things differently. Even though the

quantitative and qualitative methodological divide in Communication Studies can mean that a

scholar chooses their team, only wears their team‟s uniform, and talks trash about the other

team—I have always seen great value in methodologies from either side. However, this

attitude made it very difficult to choose a specific method for this highly personal and

valuable communication study. I hypothesized that a quantitative angle using surveys filled

with Likert-type scales would legitimately measure whether or not Paint Talks helps audience

members pay closer attention to a sermon, or helps them remember a verbal message. My


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experience informed me that a qualitative approach using individual interviews and small

group sessions with Paint Talks audience members would lead to an understanding of the

spiritual and emotional impact of the performance. And, I know a rhetorical or visual

rhetorical study would reveal very interesting layers of meaning concerning each and every

Paint Talks performance or painting.

However, last summer, my wife became sick—very sick. For five months, Brynn

suffered, and I suffered, like never before. I learned some things about human

communication during that time. First, I learned that communication can mean the

difference between life and death—thankfully, in our case, life. Second, I witnessed that

culture and emotion greatly impact human communication. I experienced a new culture: that

of the hospital, that of the husband of a sick wife, and that of a husband of a sick wife with a

protective family. Each situation evoked great emotion—sometimes overwhelming

confusion and anger, sometimes overwhelming thankfulness and joy. In these moments, I

struggled to adequately express what Brynn and I were experiencing. Thankfully, and I

believe this came from God, I was simultaneously learning about autoethnography in a

summer seminar with Dr. Amy Heuman entitled COMS 6308: Special Topics in Cultural and

Intercultural Communication. I learned about a method that appreciates complexity (such as

unanswered questions that accompany illness), respects emotion (like that of a hurting patient or

a hurting husband), and seeks dialogue and conversation (similar to the necessary conversation

between the many people trying to help my wife). I learned about a method that

communicates about real life.

I grew close to autoethnography because of the way it honestly acknowledged the

role of humanity in human communication. As the method helped me through one culturally


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and emotionally complex season, I realized that it could also help me understand the

culturally and emotionally complex work of Paint Talks. Self-reflexive, subjective, evocative,

conversational, vulnerable, emotional, difficult (Stowe, 2005), poetic (Pelias, 2004),

therapeutic (Ellis, 2004), and emergent (Richardson, 2000)—I finally selected the method of

autoethnography to analyze Paint Talks because the elements of the method mirrored the

elements of the work.

I grew up in the fundamentalist Christian church—literally. The son of a

fundamentalist preacher, I attended almost every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and

Wednesday evening service—not to mention I was present for almost every other special

event for which the church building doors opened. Although my overall experience with

fundamentalist Christian churches, specifically the Churches of Christ, has been extremely

positive, the following heartfelt autoethnography of Paint Talks focuses on the tensions of my

personal experience with fundamentalist Christian churches, and of my personal faith.

I clearly remember the main idea of my fundamentalist Christian training: Scripture is

inerrant—I clearly remember this. I do not, however, even though the arts are given a special

place throughout Christian Scripture, clearly remember being trained to understand the

valuable role of the Christian artist—the Christian actor, author, dancer, designer, director,

musician, painter, poet or sculptor. I do not clearly remember, even though Scripture reveals

that man was created in the image of the Creator, being encouraged by the congregation to

recognize that my ability with the visual arts was a gift, and that it should be used to express

truth, even if that truth collides with manmade tradition. I do not clearly remember, even with

the description of the visual arts in Exodus 31, being taught that the church is ready to

support the often lonely and confusing life of the artist. The fundamentalist Christian


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churches that I have attended do not necessarily squelch the arts, but they often avoided

them, and they often avoided encouraging the Christian artist. I question this.

The relationship between the fundamentalist Christian church and the arts becomes

even more confusing at the point of the communicative work of Paint Talks. For the past

seven years, almost every Paint Talks performance I have participated in…has taken place in

a fundamentalist Christian church building, or with a fundamentalist Christian church. The

same church that often avoids the arts, typically embraces Paint Talks. As an artist, I consider

this a beautiful collision—and a great mystery. Again, I question this.

I ask a lot of questions. As a fundamentalist Christian, I believe that the Bible does

reveal absolute Truth. However, I have yet to find a black and white answer to every one of

my questions. As Goodall (2000) poignantly notes, “I am drawn to writing that isn‟t afraid

to ask the big questions about life, and to writing that links those big questions to how I can

understand my life in this cosmos, on this blue planet, a bit better” (p. 187). I am drawn to

asking and writing about BIG questions about communication, art, and faith.

The purpose of this thesis is to perform an autoethnographic study by asking BIG

questions about the artist in the fundamentalist Christian church through the lens of Paint

Talks. It aims to create a conversation among scholars concerning the role of

autoethnography, faith, and visual communication in the field of Communication Studies, as

well as provide therapy for the fundamentalist Christian—namely, the fundamentalist

Christian artist. This work primarily seeks a response to one BIG question: What is the role of

the artist in the fundamentalist Christian church?

I seek a response to the primary question through a personal narrative.

Autoethnography allows complexity to rise through “…[telling] stories that show bodily,


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cognitive, emotional, and spiritual experience” (Ellis, 2004, p. 30). I chose my grandparent‟s

West Texas farmhouse as the setting of this narrative because it (literally and figuratively)

represents the place where my ideas of communication, art, and faith were formed. The

story spans one calendar day, and reveals the Paint Talks process from beginning to end.

Combining real and fictional experiences, I hope to concisely convey what “…I‟ve watched

(and felt)” (Ellis, 2004, p. xx) during my journey as a fundamentalist Christian artist. Using a

layered account approach (Rambo Ronai, 1992, p. 123), I connect the story of Paint Talks to

Communication Studies (as well as historical and theological) literature by intertwining

personal and scholarly accounts.

I have come to realize that while Paint Talks is about communication, art, and faith—

it is a performance. The word performance not only captures the work of Paint Talks, but the

struggle that I consistently face in my interpersonal relationships as a communication

scholar, an artist, and a Christian—to be true, to be genuine. To capture the idea that Paint

Talks is a performance, and to capture my personal struggle with performing relationships, I

write the interpersonal conversations of this thesis in a format similar to a theatrical script.

The following narrative includes five chapters. Each chapter represents a different

stage of a Paint Talks performance as well as one primary question that I ask concerning

communication, art, or faith. Chapter Two, The Calling, reveals the first stage of a Paint Talks

performance as the invitation—a simple phone call or email. By asking the question Does

autoethnography choose us?, the second chapter lays foundational ideas of Paint Talks,

autoethnography, and this unique thesis project. Building and Stretching, Chapter Three, uses

the tedious steps of creating a canvas as a metaphor for the fundamentalist Christian faith,

and poses the question What is the relationship between Christian Fundamentalism, perfectionism, and


7

legalism? Chapter Four, The Image, communicates about the historically powerful and often

controversial visual image, and documents the complex mental, ethical, and spiritual process

of developing Paint Talks images. The fourth chapter allows me to ask the question Am I

being true to myself as an artist and a Christian through Paint Talks? Performing, Chapter Five,

describes the physical work, interpersonal communication, and stage performance demanded

by Paint Talks, and primarily asks the mysterious question Why are Paint Talks accepted in the

fundamentalist Christian Church? Finally, Chapter Six, Painting, records the thoughts and

emotions that I express and endure during the creation (and clean-up) of a very special

painting, Autoethnography of Paint Talks. Reflecting on the previous chapters and reflecting on the

final painting, the sixth and final chapter seeks a response to the primary question: What is the

role of the artist in the fundamentalist Christian church?

Whether you are a scholar, an artist, a person of faith, or a various combination of

the three, this work is for you. I encourage you to continue reading. The benefits of the

following narrative are not only individual, they are collective. It does more than improve a

work named Paint Talks; it reveals a beautiful collision of culture.


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CHAPTER II

THE CALLING

Does autoethnography choose us?

* * *

“Let these three asterisks denote a shift to a different temporal/spatial/attitudinal realm”

Rambo-Ronai, 1992, p.102)

* * *

(silence)

Boom!

Actually, it is a ringtone—but it might as well be two planets colliding. My body jolts out of a

comatose sleep to the blaring music of Foo Fighters singing The Pretender (Grohl, Hawkins,

Mendel, & Shiflett, 2007, 1). I violently straighten my arm and hyperextend my shoulder, as

face-first in the bed I reach upward for my Sprint phone/alarm. I flail my hand up and

down trying to find the end table where I think I last placed the device. The band is just

about to wake up the entire house with the climactic chorus. Finally, I grasp the cold, folded,

vibrating piece of plastic, and I punch a side button to silence the chaos. Tilting my head

awkwardly onto my chin, I bring the glowing screen close to my sticky eyes. It takes a few

moments for my brain to wake up. “That is not my alarm. Someone is calling me? Who calls at

5:45 on a Saturday morning?!” I become worried—“Is it an emergency?” But, when I realize that

the call is coming from my friend, Phillip, in North Carolina, I know that he is either

forgetting about the time difference, or he is trying to be funny.

Well, this is HILARIOUS.


9

If you cannot already tell, I am a little grumpy in the morning.

K: Phillip?

I do not hear the voice of my friend Phillip—rather I hear someone loudly, obnoxiously, and energetically

humming the theme song of Pop-Eye the Sailor Man (Lerner, 1980). There is only one person who sings

this particular rendition.

K: Richard Garrett?

R: Good morning Kent!

K: What are you doing—

P: Friend!!!

Phillip must have taken the phone back from Richard. I am thoroughly confused.

P: Good morning friend.

If this man had a trademark, it would be the word “friend.”

K: Phillip, do you know what time it is?!

P: (acting like he doesn‟t hear me) Friend, I was waiting on an early flight at the

Charlotte Douglass Airport this morning and guess who I ran into?

K: (sarcastically) Umm, maybe Richard Garrett.

There is no guessing about it. It is impossible to forget Richard, or his goofy songs, after spending a summer

with him at Phillip‟s church. Richard is in his late thirties (about ten years younger than Phillip)—he is a

good man, a talented Christian minister, and an overall peculiar character.

K: Hey, tell him that he sounds as good as he ever has.

I laugh.

P: (sarcastically) Yeah, it‟s somethin‟. (the tone changes) Listen, Kent, Richard is in a

bind—and you could be the savior.


10

I think about how trying to take the reins from Jesus, the only Savior, is one of my greatest struggles.

P: Do you remember that Richard works as a campus minister with a church in

Columbia, South Carolina?

K: Right.

P: Well, about six months ago he got together with several campus ministers from all

the other SEC schools, and they began planning a huge church event for college

students from the Southeast. Richard was in charge of getting three main speakers

for the conference. Now, we both know that the committee probably shouldn‟t have put this

much faith in little Ricky (Phillip jokes), but evidently he managed to put together a

decent lineup. Well, just when he thought his task was over, early yesterday morning

he received an email from one of the keynote speakers—they had to cancel because

of a death in the family. The problem—is that the event is next weekend. Richard has

been scrambling, without luck, for the past twenty-four hours trying to find someone

that can fill in. And, it just so happened that we ran into each other this morning.

K: So, you were his next choice! That is great!

I joke because I know what is coming.

P: No, we are. He wants to know if you and I would be willing to perform the same

Paint Talks performance he saw us do a couple summers ago in Charlotte.

K: (silence)

P: Go ahead and think it over, you have about thirty seconds.

K: Thirty seconds?

P: Richard says he needs to know something now if he is going to be able to book our

flights. He is going to do the booking here in the airport. Listen, I‟ve already talked


11

to him about having a canvas built for you, and I‟ve talked to him about cost. He is

willing to cover your travel, room, board, supplies—and your honorarium.

K: (pause) I am not worried about that. I am just trying to remember if I have anything

scheduled for next weekend.

Actually, I am comforted that Phillip has taken care of breaking the honorarium ice with Richard. I usually

feel uncomfortable talking about the cost of Paint Talks.

As I turn my head to check with my wife, I can hear Phillip and Richard humming (in harmony—

they are from a cappella Churches of Christ after all) a familiar verse of Fanny J. Crosby and George C.

Stebbins 1883 invitation song, #947—“Jesus is Tenderly Calling You Home” (Howard, 1994). My

wife‟s eyes are open. In the quiet of the morning she has heard both sides of the conversation.

K: Brynn—

B: I can‟t think of anything.

Her voice is soft and sweet.

K: Me either.

I tenderly kiss her on the forehead.

Turning my face back to the phone, I pick up the previous conversation.

K: Phillip—okay. What day?

P: Friday night.

K: I can do it if Rick can get me from Lubbock to Columbia Friday morning and from

Columbia back to Lubbock Saturday morning. Tell him that I will send him the

canvas blueprints when I get home—did I tell you that I was doing my thesis project

at my grandparents‟ house this weekend?


12

P: (to Rick) He‟s in—(to me) Yeah, I think we‟re all glad you‟re finally finishing that

beast of a project! (pause) Just kidding—I really think you are going to learn a lot

from the journey. You‟ll have to tell me about it later. And, make sure that you send

me a picture of the final painting. Listen, you get back to your beauty sleep—I‟ve got

to run. I‟ll call you after I land this afternoon and we can work out the details. Hey,

I‟m sorry for calling so early—but you were the best person for the job.

K: That‟s a real complement knowing that there are only a few people that do performance

painting—and that I am the only one you know.

P: (again, playing like he can‟t hear me) I‟ll talk with you later, friend.

And then it was over.

My ears adjust from the hustle and bustle of the airport noise to the gentle sound of

my wife, who is once again breathing deeply. The quiet of the room and the heavy beating

of my heart remind me of the aftermath of a West Texas tornado.

I p a u s e .

All joking aside, deep down, I am excited and honored by the call.

* * *

I cannot go back to sleep. Staring at the ceiling I think about the irony of the early

morning phone conversation, and how for some time I have fought the thought of a

spiritual calling. Perhaps this is because I feel that contemporary Christians often abuse the

idea of a calling by not tempering it with Christian Scripture. I know that I did not temper it

with Scripture—especially in my youth. I went to pharisaical extremes in my faith, and I

inherited the pharisaical consequence of a miserable life. Trying to interpret every blowing

leaf as a message from the Holy Spirit quickly becomes a heavy burden.


13

Or, maybe I fight the idea because of how I read in the Bible that God wills certain

things for every person: to believe in Jesus as His son, to repent and be baptized for the

remission of sins, and to follow in the footsteps of Christ by loving Him and loving people.

However, recently, I have reconsidered the idea of an individual calling. Deep down

in my gut, I know that I have an unexplainable urge or longing to do certain things that are

unique to my experiences, and unique to my skill-set.

“Is Paint Talks a calling?”

“Is autoethnography a calling?”

I finally doze off.

* * *

THE CALLING OF PAINT TALKS

I used to paint pictures for fun. Now I feel called to paint.

I was a chubby, happy, five-year-old from Sweetwater, TX when I won a Sonic

cheeseburger for coloring in the outline of a Thanksgiving turkey. As a straight-A and

straight-line second grade student living in Fort Worth, TX, I received an award from Mrs.

Stone—a third place ribbon for a pencil sketch of a haunted house. Eighth grade, focused

on athletics and art in Dumas, TX, I jubilantly accepted a first place prize in a sidewalk chalk

contest—twenty-five bucks! Honestly, I did not color, draw, or paint for the money, the

ribbon, or the burger—it was just…fun. And, as my family followed my Church of Christ

preacher father all over the state of Texas, it seems that if I was not drawing at home, I was

sketching in his sermons—just for fun.

Seven years later, a Christian minister from Charlotte (Phillip) asked me to tell him

about one of my dreams—what was one goal that I had always wanted to accomplish? I did


14

not blink. I told him that I wanted to use art to teach the Gospel. With these words my

purpose for painting changed. Immediately, I found myself standing on a South Carolina

stage in front of hundreds of eyes and in front of a blank white canvas. I stood holding bold

colors—holding an opportunity to speak my hearts message, through art. My purpose was

clear and I painted with passion.

My purpose was clear, but the name of this strange, new-born, communicative

process was not. What do you call it when a person communicates by painting murals in

front of live audiences? Live painting? This does not work because there is obviously no

other type (Dead painting I would like to see, however). Additionally, how is it possible to name an

entity that represents your heart—your greatest passions, your deepest beliefs, your most

intimate feelings—without it sounding like plastic? I have not found the answer to this

question, yet, so for now it is plastic. PAINT TALKS. Next to actually showing someone a

performance, these two words are the simplest way that I have found to communicate to

another person about the process where I paint murals about Jesus—either while a pastor

speaks, I speak, a congregation sings, or a band plays. I still like to think, although the

phrase sounds packaged, that there is a simple truth to the name. The paint does talk. I

believe (perhaps hope more than believe, sometimes) that a person who sees colorful

brushstrokes and runny splatters and bold handprints covering a six-by-eight foot canvas—

also hears something.

Hill and Helmers (2004) reveal that the verbal traditionally holds greater persuasive

power than the visual. One of the reasons for this idea is that “… [images] are treated with

distrust” (p. 1) due to their ambiguity and their play on the emotions. However, despite the

traditional distrust, it is widely acknowledged in contemporary Communication Studies that


15

images impact the world in a magnificent and unique way. It is also widely agreed that

images are deeply integrated into mankind‟s sense of being, or self image, proving that visual

communication is worthy of intense study.

After almost seven years and one hundred painting performances, it is time to study

Paint Talks. I am standing in front of another canvas, now—my critical mind. It is painted

with memories. As I stare at the colors, I realize how the purpose of my artwork has

changed from the bright yellows of a carefree childhood, to the reds of a passionate ministry,

and now, to the blues and blacks of a critical life. Pelias (2000) asks, “What does it mean to

live with a critical eye, an eye that‟s always assessing, always deciding questions of worth,

always saying what‟s good or bad?...To discover the heart of such questions, you track your

day” (p. 220).

* * *

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

Those are familiar footsteps. Boots. Polished black boots, on square white tiles.

knock, knock, knock. KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

I hear my grandfather calling.

K: I‟m…up.

I am barely able to speak after coming out of such a deep slumber (almost hibernation).

GP: NnnOkay.

Grandpa‟s voice moves slowly through his thick West Texas drawl.

I p a u s e .

The room slowly fills with yellow light.

I look at my wife.


16

Seeing her breathe is beautiful.

I am overwhelmed with emotion.

* * *

THE CALLING OF AUTOETHNOGRAPHY

Last year when my wife got sick, she went through five months of hospital stays, a lung

biopsy, a kidney biopsy, two bone marrow biopsies, two spinal taps, hundreds of needle sticks,

and a trip to the Mayo Clinic. She’s okay now, but we found out she could have died.

I hope you feel uncomfortable by the way I said that. I feel noxious.

The words “five months” and “sick” do not adequately portray one hundred and fifty days of

s u f f e r i n g.

The words “biopsy,” “spinal tap,” and “needle” do not capture the emotions they inflict or the

blood, and bone, and body fluid they steal. The words “she could have died” do not even

begin to communicate the husband‟s heart that is wrenching over the condition of his wife,

who has a name, by the way.

At first, the doctors thought that Brynn had Lupus, so they attempted to suppress

here immune system—bad idea. Not only was the real problem (a fungal infection in her

spine and brain) eluding them, but they were destroying her body‟s only defense. It took

close to three months—ninety days—to discover and begin treating the Fungal Meningitis,

and by that time, my wife‟s sweet body had been rocked. For almost half a year my sweet

Brynn—

my sweet Brynn


17

—had a racing heartbeat, high blood pressure, fluid on her lungs, and only a forty percent breathing capacity.

She could not lie down (for almost half a year), her skin developed knots and rashes, her belly swelled, and

she lost approximately half of her hair.

We had been married less than two years.

I did not know what to do.

I did not know what to say.

I did not know how to communicate my frustration, my anger, my confusion, and my

brokenness at a time when communication was critical.

Then, autoethnography called me.

Just before Brynn‟s illness, I chose to take the Summer I session of COMS 6308:

Special Topics in Cultural and Intercultural Communication—the Texas Tech University

graduate seminar that teaches about autoethnography, a communication study that

“highlights the emotional experience” (Ellis, 2004, p. 30). I attribute this coincidence, this

calling, to God. Little did I know that at the same time I was learning to write about the real

and raw times of life, I would simultaneously be going through the most real and most raw time

of my life. Autoethnography had chosen me (Goodall, 2000).

The course, besides periodically giving me a much needed reprieve as a husband-

nurse, taught me a method that allowed me to organize and deal with (on the bad days) my

complex emotions concerning Brynn‟s pain, my pain, and my frustration with doctors, hospital

staff, and protective in-laws…and organize and deal with (on the good days) my unspeakable

gratefulness for doctors, hospital staff, and protective in-laws. As Brynn recovered (She has


18

now completely recovered, Praise God!), we actually co-constructed an autoethnography

about our experience with hospital culture that allowed us to talk about our frustrations,

our anger, our confusion, and our brokenness. Brynn‟s illness changed us—but so did

writing honestly about the experience. And, as we continually share our writing with others,

we witness that it changes them, too.

At the end of the co-constructed paper, Brynn and I state:

We could not, not write the following account.

I feel the same way about my unique experience with Paint Talks. I believe that I

would have written the following account regardless of any graduate school requirement—I

would have written it simply to “…figure out what was going on, and then put away events

and feelings in order to deal with what happened next” (Ellis, 2004, p. 19).

* * *

“What is this strange feeling in my body? It actually feels…rested?” I am tempted to rise to

my feet by the smell of breakfast wafting from the kitchen, but I am also held tight by heavy

cotton sheets and blankets.

B: Come on Kent, you‟re going to miss breakfast!

* * *

Just eight hours before my Grandfather woke me up, I had barely been able to

sleep—I was simply too tired. My family prides itself on hard work, being busy (doing hard

work), and being tired (because it shows that you have been busy doing hard work). They

would have been proud of the work that I put in before heading to Grandma and Grandpa‟s.


19

I am first and foremost a Christian. I am also a husband. I am an artist. I am a

graduate student in the Communication Studies Department at Texas Tech University. And,

I am a part time graduate instructor.

And—I am usually pretty tired.

My graduate school duties the previous week were fairly grueling. The writing

assignments took much more time than expected, and each of my professors assigned more

reading for one week than any human could possibly complete in one month. And, I was

already strapped for time due to having to prepare, teach, and grade speeches for two

Tuesday-Thursday COMS 2300 Public Speaking classes. I am always amazed at the time

that it takes to adequately prepare to teach a sophomore level Public Speaking course (that I

have taught almost eleven times now). The previous week‟s teaching drained me, as did my

disappointment—I felt I could have done a much better work as a teacher.

However, the primary reason I was so tired when I went to bed at my grandparents‟

farmhouse is that I was still recovering from the previous weekend‟s Paint Talks

performance. I had received an early morning phone call from a preacher in Fort Worth,

TX at the beginning of the semester—he wanted to know if I would be willing to paint for

his church on Easter Sunday. Even though I knew that preparing for and performing a Paint

Talk in the middle of the semester would be physically exasperating, I agreed. So, on the

previous Friday, I spent the entire day buying supplies, checking equipment, and packing my

car. Beginning at 6:00 the previous Saturday morning, I drove five hours from Lubbock, TX

to Fort Worth, TX where I spent the rest of the day prepping the canvas, setting up the

stage, and discussing the performance with the preacher. After going to bed at 1:00 A.M.

and waking up at 6:00 A.M., I headed to the church building on Easter Sunday. The


20

emotional, physical, and spiritual workout lasted several hours. I did not finish speaking to

audience members and cleaning up until 3:00 P.M. Finally, I made the five hour drive

home—only to start preparing for the classes I was taking and teaching the next week.

* * *

Just eight hours before my Grandfather woke me up, I had barely been able to

sleep—I was simply too tired. “Now, I actually feel rested. I always sleep well at Grandma‟s.”

As I stumble to the kitchen, I pass a wall of family photos. For a brief moment, I no

longer feel twenty-eight—I feel eight. I picture my Mom and Dad packing the entire family

into a white, brown, or maroon Buick, and driving all evening from the small community of

Sweetwater, TX to the even tinier farm town of Panhandle, TX. I vividly remember the

magical feeling I had as a child, waking up to a morning at Grandma and Grandpa‟s, waking

up in a room with my older and younger brother, waking up to the smells of pancakes and

bacon. I also remember how, after breakfast, we would spend all day playing in the country!

“Coming to his house used to be fun. Now, it is therapeutic.”

* * *

THERAPY AND COMMUNICATION STUDIES

Does therapy have a place in Communication Studies?

The answer is yes!

Autoethnography is “…a cooperatively evolved text consisting of fragments of

discourse intended to evoke in the minds of both reader and writer an emergent fantasy of a

possible world of commonsense reality, and thus to provoke an aesthetic integration that will

have a therapeutic effect” (Tyler, 1986, pp. 125). The idea described by Tyler has an

interesting history. It “…first emerged as the crisis of representation in ethnographic


21

writing, a seeping of doubts about objectivity and neutrality into anthropology, sociology and

related fields” (Banks, 2000, p. 233). The method and theory developed because

Communication Studies scholars noticed a “„gap‟ in a professional literature” (Goodall, 2000,

p. 15). Carolyn Ellis (2004) simply asserts that social science needed “more heart and

emotion” (p. 54). Autoethnography filled the gap. Using a word coined by Ronald Pelias,

autoethnography “[humanizes]” (Pelias, 2000, p. 224) Communication Studies.

Autoethnography is a hybrid of theory and method. As a theory, it is a way of

looking at the world that claims, “…with understanding yourself comes understanding

others” (Ellis, 2004, p. xvii). As a method, it aims to give a “thick description” (Cheney,

2004, p. 81) of culture through writing that is highly self-reflexive, subjective, evocative,

conversational, vulnerable, emotional, and difficult (Stowe, 2005), poetic (Pelias, 2004),

therapeutic (Ellis, 2004), and emergent (Richardson, 2000).

Allowing “emotion” and “heart” (Ellis, 2004) to play a role in Communication

Studies greatly differs from the goal of understanding argument and debate, a major goal of

Communication Studies before the last quarter of the twentieth century. Goodall (2000)

reveals that autoethnography works to create dialogue instead of a monologue; it resembles

interpersonal communication (p.14) that transforms the writer and reader—“Good writing,

like good conversation, is transformational” (p. 41); autoethnography “[provides] a space for

language to help shape a professional meeting into an intellectually and emotionally

rewarding friendship” (p. 14).

The therapeutic value of autoethnography reveals a tremendous possibility of deeply

impacting human lives through Communication Studies. Pelias encourages scholars to

humanely seek to offer “some service to someone” (Pelias, 2003, p. 37).


22

* * *

K: Good morning, Grandma!

GM: Well, good morning…what happened to 8:00?

K: Grandma, its only 8:03?

GM: Well…

I act occupied and rush into the dining room before she can give me a sermon on

the importance of punctuality (I have heard it before). The small glass tabletop is covered with

large white porcelain plates, small porcelain bowls, and even smaller crystal dishes. Biscuits,

Waffles, Bacon, Milk and Orange Juice—I love this tradition!

Brynn and Grandpa are already sitting at the table. Before he retired, Grandpa wore

a long sleeve, button down, brown work shirt, blue wranglers, and black boots—every day.

He retired about ten years ago, but there he sits, in his brown shirt, blue wranglers, and black

boots—tradition runs deep at this house.

Grandma walks to the table with the last bowl of food.

GM: Ke-Ke-Kent (A combination of my brothers‟ names mixed with mine), what kind of

project did you say you are working on today—eggnography…

Brynn kindly laughs—she has heard me talk about all this enough to clearly understand the term. I

chuckle, and save my grandma the trouble.

K: Autoethnography?

GM: Yes. That‟s what I meant. (smiling) What is that again—in a nutshell?

It seems that she is expecting a brief response. How do I briefly say what Carolyn

Ellis, a supreme authority on autoethnography, has taken eighteen years to determine? I

wish that she was here to say it.


23

* * *

ETHNOGRAPHY AND AUTOETHNOGRAPHY “…IN A NUTSHELL”

Carolyn Ellis (2004) on Ethnography:

Ethno means people or culture; graphy means writing or describing. Ethnography

then means writing about or describing people and culture, using firsthand

observation and participation in a setting or situation. The term refers both to the

process of doing a study and the written product. (p. 26)

Carolyn Ellis (2004) on Autoethnography:

“What is autoethnography?” you might ask. My brief answer: research, writing,

story, and method that connect the autobiographical and personal to the cultural,

social, and political. Autoethnographic forms feature concrete action, emotion,

embodiment, self-consciousness, and introspection portrayed in dialogue, scenes,

characterization, and plot. Thus autoethnography claims the conventions of literary

writing. (p. xix)

* * *

I struggle trying to briefly explain the methodology. I start at ground level.

K: Autoethnography is…well, you remember the movie Dances with Wolves, right?

GM: Yes.

K: That‟s ethnography—when someone gets close to the people that they study—maybe

they even live with them to learn and write about the culture. Well, autoethnography is

when a person looks at culture…by looking in the mirror.

GM: (smiling) Why do you have to be in the barn all day if you are just going to be

looking in a mirror…


24

K: Grandma!—never mind. Just know it means to study one person with the hope of

personally benefitting from the research, but also with the hope of helping others.

Actually, this idea is very important for my study. For a long time, I have been

interested in studying the process and culture of Paint Talks.

My grandparents and wife do not need a description of the italicized term—each one of them have fully

participated in the brainstorming, setting up, or (especially) cleaning up of many Paint Talks performances.

K: Looking back on the last seven years, I realize that I have constantly been engaged in

a unique and impacting form of communication—but I also realize that I have never

stopped to analyze it. On a surface level, I want know how to make Paint Talks a

better work. But, on a deeper level, I desire to know about the culture of Paint Talks.

GM: Oh, are there a lot of other people that do these types of paintings?

K: That is a good question. There are not many Christian performance painters, and

every Christian performance painter I have seen is very different from the next.

However, Paint Talks actually represents a much greater culture. First, and I know

these are broad ideas, it represents the culture of the artist and Christian. Second,

taking the idea deeper, Paint Talks represents the culture of the Christian artist in

Churches of Christ (I save the words “a fundamentalist Christian church” since I do

not know if my grandparents would typically associate Churches of Christ with

Christian Fundamentalism. I do not feel this is a necessary discussion at this point).

GM: But, are there that many artists in The Church?

This is the terminology elderly Church of Christ members often use to speak about the Churches of Christ.

Again, I choose to save the discussion concerning how I disagree with this language for more appropriate time.

K: Another great question (I am feeling excited about my project)! What do you think?


25

GM: Well, at our church there aren‟t many painters.

K: Right—but are there any musicians? Are there any writers? (pause) Is there anyone

that likes to quilt?

GM: Oh, yes.

K: (smiling, my voice raises) This is the culture I desire to study—not just Christian

quilters—but Christian artists. And, the reason that I am interested in specifically

studying Christian artists in Churches of Christ (fundamentalist Christian churches)

has to do with you asking if there are many artists in The Church (I duplicate the

language to clarify my point). Typically, the Churches of Christ (fundamentalist

Christian churches) that I attend steer away from the arts, and they do not encourage

the artist. So, usually it is impossible to know if artists even exist in a congregation.

But, I believe that they do—I am one of them, and I know that there are many more.

I have talked to many more. If you believe that this is true, if many artists exist in

every congregation, imagine what it would look like if every artist in The Church was using

their gift of art for The Church? Instead, Christian artists are often not recognized, and

more importantly, they are often not told how they can use their gift to serve the

greater body. They are not shown their role—

I pause, realizing that the conversation is sounding less like a conversation and more like a sermon.

K: I am sorry…I just get passionate about this.

GM: No, Kent, I think you bring up some good thoughts. I tend to not think a lot about

the arts in relation to the church simply because of my upbringing. The arts,

especially the visual arts, were primarily connected with the Catholic Church in my


26

youth—so I really haven‟t given it much thought. However, I think you bring up

some good ideas.

K: Thanks. (pause) Well, as I was saying before I went into preacher mode—I hope that

the meaning unveiled by today‟s study will improve the work of Paint Talks, but even

more, I hope that it will lead to a better understanding of the role of a Christian artist

in a conservative (fundamentalist) Christian church.

Grandpa looks at me with a loving smile. He has not said much, but that is because it is difficult

to get a word in once Grandma and I really start talking. A farmer, toughened by years in the hot summer

sun and freezing cold West Texas wind—he probably thinks I have gone off the deep end with all my

learnin‟. Maybe he is right.

* * *

AUTOETHNOGRAPHY AND CULTURE

What is the best way to study culture? The Oxford English Dictionary (2008) defines

culture as “The distinctive ideas, customs, social behaviour, products, or way of life of a

particular society, people, or period.” Culture is important to Communication Studies, not

only because it impacts specific forms of communication, but because it is socially

constructed: “[Cultures] are not „out there‟ for inspection…Rather, cultures are

apprehended, theorized, studied, explained, storied, and otherwise rendered symbolic

through language. They are constructed” (Goodall, 2000, p. 13). Ethnography has been

used to describe cultures holistically since the 1920‟s (Lindlof & Taylor, 2002).

Different from ethnography, autoethnography offers “…the possibility of more

compelling and convincing narratives about human living and human culture” (Crawford,

1996, p. 170) and allows for a special “intimacy” (Goodall, 2000, p. 15) when studying


27

culture. If culture runs through the self, wholly and completely, then a communication

scholar should be able to study culture by studying self, or what Brandon Stowe (2005) refers

to as “self as site” (p. 43). Neumann (1996) reveals the benefit of connecting self to culture:

…this joining of auto and ethno, of self and culture, can critique the conditions of

the culture in which the self is located. In this sense, autoethnography is more than a

telling of one‟s experience; it is a critical looking outward at power relations in a

cultural space that constrains the meanings available for understanding the writer‟s

(i.e. one‟s own) life and text (p. 235).

Chiu (2004) refers to the autoethnography as “synecdoche” (p. 44) since it allows the

study of an entire culture while “retaining attention to local specificities” (p. 44). While it is

impossible to say that autoethnography is the best way to study culture, it is definitely the

closest way.

* * *

GM: Let‟s say a prayer so we can start eating, and then you can tell us more about what

you are doing today.

I am surprised that she is still interested. I bow my head and listen to a very familiar prayer. Tradition runs

very deep at this house.

GP: Guide, guard and direct us. Amen.

The traditional words mark the close of the prayer, and everyone reaches for a different breakfast item. The

discussion at the table turns back to the project.

GM: (joking) So, you‟ll be in the barn, with a mirror…


28

K: Ha—okay. The first thing that I need to tell you, is that today is going to be

emergent—wait (I quickly catch the unfamiliar autoethnography lingo), I mean that

things may change as the day goes along.

Everyone nods—it is no secret that I will be welcoming help today. It is also no secret that most of my life, is

emergent.

K: Basically, I am planning on being out in the barn all day today, walking through, and

periodically journaling through—with my voice recorder—an entire Paint Talks

performance. And, I will be taking my time, looking for meaning that is unveiled in

each detail of the process, listening for what every moment has to say about the

process and culture of Paint Talks.

There is, however, one major difference between today and the typical performance.

Today, I am not going to develop a new image. Today I am going to paint something

I have painted before.

GM: Oh, really, have we seen this one?

K: I am not sure. Have you seen me paint the image that I call The Beautiful Collision?

(Enclosed DVD; Figures 18-19; 42-47).

GM: Oh, yes—well, we haven‟t seen it in person, but you have shown us pictures. That

will be neat. (pause) Why are you going to paint something you‟ve done before?

K: Well, even though I am technically creating the exact same image, I am going to paint

the image in a very different way. I am going to take my time—like I used to do when I

was not painting for show.

Actually, my art has always for show—the main difference is that I have not always painted in front of a live

audience, and I have not always had the time constraints of a staged performance.


29

K: I do not plan to be out in the barn all night, but I definitely plan to take longer than

the typical thirty minute Paint Talks performance. Then, at some point, I want to

compare the image that I paint tonight to the same image from a typical Paint Talks

performance. I believe that the difference between the images will reveal meaning

about Paint Talks and about the Christian artist.

Grandma nods.

GM: Oh.

I can tell that she is a little disappointed that I am painting something she has seen before.

K: So—today I will build a canvas, set up the easel, project and trace the image, and

begin painting. I do not know how long it will take me to finish, but I am

welcoming anyone that might want to help, (smiling) ahem! As usual, Grandma, when

I am finished I will leave everything like I found it.

(pause)

Oh, yeah…and, nobody gets to watch me paint this one.

GM: (disappointed) Oh, why not?

K: Well, again, I want to see the difference that it makes when I do not paint in front of

an audience. But…I am still a little nervous, to tell you the truth.

GM: Nervous? You do these paintings all the time, why would you be nervous to do one

by yourself, in the barn? Goose doesn‟t mind.

Goose is the cat.

K: I am not so much nervous about today—I am nervous about writing about today. The

style of study that I am doing can be ethically challenging. Autoethnography calls for

honesty. (solemnly) But, just in talking this morning about the things I have


30

experienced in the Churches of Christ (fundamentalist Christian churches) in relation

to the arts, I feel afraid—I feel like I could easily insult someone or hurt somebody‟s

feelings. On the other hand, I am simply telling about what I have experienced. It is

my life and my story, so I feel that I have a right to tell it honestly. However, I also

want to be fair to others, and respectful of others, in the story I tell. (sigh) I…just

know that I have to be careful.

GM: (smiling) Well, you can talk about Grandpa all you want!

* * *

THE CHALLENGE OF AUTOETHNOGRAPHY

Why is writing autoethnography difficult? For me, it is challenging simply because I am a

people pleaser, and not every Communication Scholar accepts autoethnography as a

legitimate method for studying communication. I have heard several scholars in my

particular department ask, “How do you assess or judge someone‟s story?” or “What is the difference

between autoethnography and autobiography?” Even though I know that there is a clear criteria for

writing autoethnography (I have already stated the criteria listed by Stow (2005) and

Richardson (2000) several times), and even though I realize these criteria reveal that

autoethnography greatly differs from autobiography at the point of intent, it is difficult for me

to swim against the stream of scholars that I greatly respect. However, even for

autoethnographers less sensitive than me, the highly interpretive writing process is still very

difficult. It is emotionally challenging, and it is hard work.

Writing autoethnographically is emotionally taxing because, as Spry states, the

“[human] experience is chaotic and messy…” (Spry, 2001, p. 727). The method presents a

difficult task as it involves a close examination of the personal life and the retelling of the


31

personal story. It is difficult for a writer to choose which characters to include in the story,

and how to write about them. It is also difficult to determine which personal characteristics

to write about the self. “The self-questioning that autoethnography demands is extremely

difficult. Often you confront things about yourself that are less than flattering. Honest

autoethnographic exploration generates a lot of fears and self-doubts—and emotional pain”

(Ellis, 2004, p. xviii). However, despite the challenges, Ron Pelias encourages the

autoethnographer to write without reserve: “… [Desire] to write from the heart, to put on

display a researcher who, instead of hiding behind the illusion of objectivity, brings himself

forward in the belief that an emotionally vulnerable, linguistically evocative, and sensuously

poetic voice can place us closer to the subjects we wish to study” (Pelias, 2004, p. 1).

Writing autoethnography is also hard work. “It is the result of a lot of reading, a

disciplined imagination, hard work in the field and in front of a computer, and solid research

skills, all of which are crafted into compelling stories, narratives or accounts” (Goodall, 2000,

p. 10). The methodology is difficult because it demands unique craftsmanship; it demands a

seamless integration of many challenging components.

Autoethnographic writing is reflexive, turning the ethnographic gaze “inward”

(Denzin, 1997, p. 227). It is also subjective—“[autoethnography] removes the assumed

researcher privilege in the research situation, and makes the presence of the researcher in the

text unavoidable” (Crawford 1996, p.158). Autoethnographic writing is evocative—“…on the

whole autoethnographers do not want you to sit back as spectators; they want readers to

feel, care, and desire” (Bochner & Ellis, 1996, p.24). It is also conversational—“…writing

based on interpersonal effectiveness prizes the working out of dialectical tensions, dialogic

vulnerability, and a profound openness to differences” (Goodall, 2000, p. 14).


32

Autoethnographic writing is vulnerable—“when you write vulnerably, others will respond

vulnerably” (Behar, 1996, p. 16). It is also emotional—“[being] emotional helps you become a

better autoethnographer, since so often the subject matter as well as the process is

emotional. Though being too emotional may overload your senses and prevent you from

looking at situations from multiple frames” (Ellis, 2004, p.110). Autoethnographic writing is

poetic—“[in] telling the story, the writer calls upon such fiction-writing techniques as

dramatic recall, strong imagery, fleshed-out characters, unusual phrasings, puns, subtexts,

allusions, the flashback, the flashforward, tone shifts, synecdoche, dialogue, and interior

monologue” (Richardson, 2000, 11). Finally, it is also emergent—“…knowing and telling

exist side by side” (Richardson, 2000, 8).

A well crafted autoethnography, in and of itself, is a work of art.

* * *

Just before I finish chewing on my thoughts about my project, as well as my last bite

of bacon, my grandpa reaches for a small book in the middle of the round glass table.

POWER FOR TODAY

is a quarterly publication of daily devotional readings produced by a

fundamentalist Christian church.

POWER FOR TODAY

is a DAILY devotional reading in my grandparent’s house.

As I watch and listen to my Grandpa continue a tradition that has existed in this house for

fifty years, I think on two ideas. One,

Faith

is central in the lives of my grandparents.


33

Two, tensions surrounding faith, particularly the Christian faith, are not central to

autoethnography.

* * *

FAITH AND AUTOETHNOGRAPHY

I recently looked through a stack of about sixty autoethnographic books, journal

articles, and thesis projects. The majority of the texts focused on tensions concerning

ethnicity, gender, sexuality, health, and Communication Studies scholarship. However, only

a couple of the texts placed a primary focus on tensions about faith or religion (Lester

Murad (2005); Stowe (2005)). Why are tensions concerning faith, particularly the Christian faith, not

more central autoethnography?

Is it because Christians are not willing to tolerate the topics analyzed by the typical

autoethnography? I do not think so. Sharon Crowley (2007) reveals that a blatant

incongruity does typically exist between Communication Studies and the Christian Right:

Firm belief in truth is not widespread in a liberal polity and a postmodern age.

However, the beliefs of conservative Christians constitute an interesting exception to

this generalization: such persons believe that they possess universal, non-contingent

truth which is revealed to them by inerrant readings of the Christian Bible. Belief in

inerrancy entails adherence to divinely sanctioned moral standards, and so

conservative Christians cannot easily tolerate beliefs and practices that violate (their

readings of) biblical dicta. (p.102)

Even though some conservative Christians may decide not to vigorously research or discuss

many of the topics often found at the center of autoethnography, I do not think this single

factor keeps them from learning about, or even using the method. Anyway, there are plenty


34

of conservative Christian scholars that find a way to maintain their beliefs while reading and

writing about a variety of ideas—this description fits several of my peers and professors, and

it fits me. Therefore, many communication scholars could be writing autoethnographies

about tensions concerning the Christian faith.

Based on my personal experience as a conservative Christian in the field of

Communication Studies, I believe that autoethnographies on the said topic are rare for two

primary reasons.

First, autoethnographies about tensions concerning the Christian faith are

particularly hard to write—an author must often uncomfortably expose imperfections about

the Christian church, as well as imperfections about their personal faith. Please hear me

clearly—my overall experience with fundamentalist Christian churches, especially the

Churches of Christ, has been extremely POSITIVE. It would be very easy for me to

write about my positive experiences with fundamentalist Christian churches.

However, I have experienced tensions that are directly related to Christian Fundamentalism.

And, I personally know the difficulty of writing about these tensions.

The church, at a very basic level, is a family. It is a group of people that spends a lot

of time together. And, as with any family, tensions exist. One difference between the

perception of a typical family and a church family is that sometimes people expect, and

sometimes even I expect, Christians to be perfect. Sometimes people expect, and sometimes

even I expect, the Church to be a safe haven from ambiguity and discomfort and pain.

Therefore, when tensions arise, when ambiguity and discomfort and pain arises, I am often

tempted to sweep reality under the rug—the exact opposite idea of autoethnography.

Why?—sometimes I want to live in the dream, or give the perception, that that I am part of


35

a perfect family. Why?—sometimes I am the source of other people‟s tensions of faith.

Why?—sometimes there are very realistic consequences to putting an honest opinion about

the way human beings practice Christianity in writing. If someone from the Church I am

writing about (or perhaps the exact person I am writing about) takes my writing the wrong

way, or the right way—an even greater tension may arise—it is difficult to take this risk.

However, honestly describing the tension may be the best thing that could happen to the

specific church, or the specific person.

Autoethnographies that focus on tensions concerning the Christian faith are also

difficult to write because they reveal intimate details about the author‟s personal faith. If

their faith is strong, it will show. But, if their faith is weak, it will show. I was hesitant to

write this account because I did not know what the result would once someone learned that

sometimes I am Thomas (John 20, NIV)—sometimes I have to see to believe, and sometimes

I feel like I do not believe. However, I do believe that taking off my mask allows me to truly

grow in my faith, and it saves me from spending valuable time hiding my imperfections. It

allows me to say; “I do believe, help me overcome my unbelief” (Mark 9:24, NIV).

The second (and primary) reason that I believe autoethnographies about tensions

concerning the Christian faith are rare is that the core assumptions autoethnography and

Christianity are difficult to mesh. A difficult question arises: Can a Christian value

autoethnography?

Laurel Richardson (2000) asserts, “The core of postmodernism is the doubt that any

method or theory, discourse or genre, tradition or novelty, has a universal and general claim

as the „right‟ or the privileged form of authoritative knowledge” (p. 8). Goodall (2000)

reveals that the concept of the autoethnography arose from the postmodern era and the


36

“crisis of representation” (p. 12), and that, “… representation is literally about re-presenting

a reality, which assumes a correspondence between language used to create the

representation and the reality that gets represented” (Goodall, 2000, p. 12). The

postmodernist believes that reality is socially constructed, and therefore, different language

creating (and created) beings have different realities.

The Christian Scriptures claim that absolute truth exists—a single reality and a single

worldview. The idea of absolute truth is seen in the Old Testament: “Hear, O Israel: The

LORD our God, the LORD is one” (Deuteronomy 4:6, NIV). The idea of absolute truth is

also seen in the New Testament: “Jesus answered, „I am the way and the truth and the life.

No one comes to the Father except through me‟” (John 14:6, NIV). Christianity accepts

(among many other ideas) the ideas that there is one God, and that Jesus Christ is His Son,

as absolute truth.

Obviously, the basic assumptions of postmodernity and Christianity clash at the

point of truth. However, when I first encountered the method and theory of

autoethnography, I did not see a giant discrepancy. My original reasoning was partially based

in the thought that while certain ideas of the Bible are agreed upon by most Christians as

non-negotiable (i.e., God is one, Jesus is His Son), other ideas are considered mysterious or

gray. My original definition for the ideas that Christians agreed on was the term “absolute,”

and my original definition for the mysterious or gray areas was “non-absolute.” I believed

that if absolute truth could exist with non-absolutes, then a person should be able to believe

in absolute truth at the same time they believe in socially constructed realities. However, I

soon realized that mysterious or gray areas are also absolute—they are simply not


37

exhaustively understood by humanity. I believe that God understands them absolutely, and

therefore the first part of my original argument is null and void.

The second part of my original reasoning was based in the idea of perspectivalism,

even though I did not know the name perspectivalism. My original thought was that the

Christian worldview could exist simultaneously with any other worldview. However, as I

encountered the ideas of Francis A. Schaeffer (1982), I realized that the Christian worldview

is the only worldview accepted by Christianity. I had confused the definitions of worldview and

perspective. Cherwitz and Hikins (1986) state the following:

[Each] particular is distinct and is what it is only in relation to other things, and

particulars often stand together in complexes; that is, they exist in interrelated ways.

Moreover, such complexes can be made sense of only with respect to the context of

particulars in which they stand. (p. 106)

The authors reveal the idea that truth exists, it is out there, however every person has a

different understanding or perspective of truth. Even though I was confusing the

definitions of worldview and perspective, I believe that the second part of my reasoning for

valuing autoethnography still stands.

I greatly respect the way autoethnography respects human perspective. I often

wonder, if I had been raised in country where the dominant religion was something other

than Christianity, would I still be a Christian? I would not be surprised, in that scenario, if I

would have been a faithful follower of the dominant religion of my home country. Now,

while my upbringing would not change the truth of Christianity, considering the situation

makes me think that people have completely different perspectives due to happenings that

are or were completely outside of their control. Considering the scenario makes me


38

sympathize with a person who, being from a country where Christianity is not the dominant

religion, chooses to go against their culture and become a Christian. It makes me consider

the difficulty of the decision, and the earthly consequences of the choice.

Growing up in an evangelical, fundamentalist Christian church, I rarely witnessed the

consideration and respect of a non-Christian‟s perspective. I did not see many Christians

stopping to think about what it would be like to walk in the shoes of the person to which

they were preaching. And, due to this lack of reflexivity, the process of telling someone

about Jesus was often done in a disrespectful manner. Autoethnography respects the

individual, their perspective, and their personal story. This idea is masterfully represented in

the Bible when the apostle and evangelist Paul says, “Men of Athens! I see that in every way

you are very religious” (Acts 17:22, NIV). He respectfully notes the (misguided) perspective

that the people have of “...AN UNKNOWN GOD” (Acts 17: 23, NIV) before speaking a

word to them about the God that they did not know.

I believe that autoethnographies about tensions concerning the Christian faith are

rare because they are difficult to write and because it is difficult to mesh the postmodern

idea of autoethnography with the absolute truth of Christianity. However, my primary

argument for the appreciation of autoethnography by Christians is that it respects

perspective. Even though the scope of this paper does not allow time to discuss the

following idea in length, I often wonder if autoethnography can actually be considered

entirely postmodern. As a theory, autoethnography is postmodern—accepting all realities

but not approving of any one reality. However, as a method, autoethnography simply

provides a very unique perspective for Communication Studies by embracing human

emotion. If autoethnography cannot be separated from theory, then perhaps a new


39

Communication Studies method is necessary—a method that accepts absolute truth and

embraces emotion.

Can a Christian value autoethnography? This is a difficult question for me to answer, but

I say yes, because I am a Christian and I value autoethnography. However, it is still difficult

for me to know if a Christian should value autoethnography, based on Christian standards.

* * *

GM: Everybody take your plates to the kitchen and I‟ll wash the dishes.

This is traditional. I love the selflessness of my Grandma.

Brynn rises to her feet.

B: I‟ll help.

This is traditional. I love the selflessness of my wife.

GP: Kent, I need to go make a few calls about cattle.

This is a traditional after breakfast ritual.

GP: —I‟ll help you build that canvas in a little while.

K: Okay, great, thanks!

GP: Just, anything you need.

I love the selflessness of my Grandpa.

Still wearing my pajamas, I open the back door and step into the spring morning air.

For me, what I see is an untraditional scene.

The well manicured Kentucky Blue Grass is covered in dew, as are the flower beds

full of purple and yellow pansies and the tall pine trees full of bird nests. Other than the

sound of sparrows chirping and hopping on branches, all I hear is the soft ring of wind


40

chimes swaying in the breeze. I take in a deep breath of the cool clean air, and I sit down on

the back porch swing.

This is a great thinking swing.

Rocking back and forth, I think about my grandparents—they are the best people I

know. I love them more than words can say, and I fear the day that they are not here for

breakfast. Why have I chosen to bring a heady, academic project into their wonderful and

simple world? I know the answer. It is because this wonderful and simple world helped

make me who I am. Almost everything I know, especially my foundational knowledge, was

bestowed on me by gentle hands and hearts in this house. More specifically, many of my

ideas of communication, art, and faith were given to me by calloused hands in grandpa‟s

barn behind the house. I make a silent pledge: “I will be respectful of you in this project.”


The sounds and smells of the backyard are familiar. Soon after the birth of Paint

Talks, I graduated from Lubbock Christian University, and by that time churches were

consistently asking me to perform at youth rallies, youth camps, church services, and

conferences. I decided to devote all of my time to Paint Talks (since I believed that the

opportunity would not last long). My grandparents agreed to let me move in with them and

use their house as a hub for my travels. I am still very moved when I consider how they

selflessly allowed me to invade their sense of normalcy, and set up shop in the barn where

Grandpa keeps his tractors and other farming equipment (actually, he is a “retired” farmer,

but the first thing Grandpa bought with the money from his farm sale was a brand new John

Deere). I look across the yard at the bright, white, aluminum building. It feels right that I


41

have returned to this place to study my personal experience with communication, art, and

faith.


“So many questions.” Trying to soak up every possible quiet moment before the storm

of the day, I think about the questions I have already asked or have been asked this morning.

What is autoethnography?

Does a therapy have a place in Communication Studies?

What is the best way to study culture?

Why is writing autoethnography difficult?

Why are tensions concerning faith, particularly the Christian faith, not more central

autoethnography?

Should a Christian value autoethnography?

Why have I brought this heady project to my grandparents‟ home?

Is Paint Talks a calling?

Is autoethnography a calling?

I have known for some time that this would be a day full of questions, but this does

not bother me. I have always asked a lot of questions.

* * *

ASKING BIG QUESTIONS

“I am drawn to writing that isn‟t afraid to ask the big questions about life, and to writing that links those

big questions to how I can understand my life in this cosmos, on this blue planet, a bit better”

(Goodall, 2000, p. 187)


42

Much like H. L. Goodall, many of the questions that I ask, seek to uncover meaning

about human communication. However, at an early age, I was known for asking questions

predominantly about faith. In the comfort of my home, I would quiz my father. Many

times, as an adolescent, I did not understand how fundamentalist Christian views meshed

with reality. Actually, it is a miracle that my preacher father did not throw me out of a

window because of the constant questions that I asked him about his personal beliefs. I am

forever thankful that my father was patient and willing to give thought filled and thought

provoking answers to my questions.

I did not feel comfortable, however, asking the same questions of faith at Church.

Using the words of my Grandma describing her childhood in a fundamentalist Christian

congregation, Children were to be “seen and not heard.” Fundamentalist Christian churches base

their beliefs on Scripture alone, and I found out that once a basic belief was derived from

Scripture by the congregation, it was not to be questioned—especially by a child (of course I

did not know the term perspectivalism in my youth, but even as an adolescent I sensed that

people were not considering the impact that their upbringing and personal bias had on their

understanding of scripture). And, I felt that if I publicly questioned the fundamentalist

Christian faith, I was publicly questioning God.

So, as an adolescent, when I was in public I did not question the fundamentalist

Christian faith, or question God—out loud. However, in my heart, I questioned both all the

time. It was not until later in life that my silence was broken by the Old Testament book of

Habakkuk (again, revealing the power of Scripture in my personal fundamentalist Christian

life), which reveals a faithful follower of God—that questions God. Habakkuk states, “How

long, O LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, „Violence!‟


43

but you do not save” (Habakkuk 1:2, NIV)? Even though Habakkuk questions God (more

than once), God does not condemn him, or strike him with lightning. Rather, God patiently,

much like my earthly father, gives Habakkuk thought filled answers—answers that eventually

bring Habakkuk to a maturity where he questions less and trusts more. Similarly, many of the

questions I once had about God dissolved as I grew to trust him more.

However, many of my questions concerning the ways of fundamentalist Christian

churches still remain.

I still ask a lot of questions. Sometimes solely about Communication Studies—Is

autoethnography a calling? (Chapter Two). Sometimes I ask questions of faith—What is

the relationship between Fundamentalism, perfectionism, and legalism? (Chapter

Three). Lately, I have mostly asked questions about Paint Talks—Is this art, craft, or kitsch?, Is

it right to stir the emotions of an audience in this way?, Is it okay to paint an image of Jesus?, Should I be

paid for this?, and What does God truly think about Paint Talks? Basically, through these

questions, I am asking Am I cheating myself as an artist or a Christian through Paint

Talks? (Chapter Four).

Seven years ago, I began performing Paint Talks predominantly for fundamentalist

Christian churches. Since then, I have painted countless images in imageless auditoriums,

among people who often steer away from the arts, and among people that have a history of

rejecting the icon. Even so, I cannot remember a time when the members of the church

where I painted did not accept, or even embrace, the performance. Therefore, I cannot help

but ask Why are Paint Talks accepted in a fundamentalist Christian church? (Chapter

Five).


44

Twenty-eight years ago, I was born into a world where fundamentalist Christian

churches encourage people to use their God-given gifts for God‟s glory—as the Bible

instructs (Colossians 3:17, NIV). I clearly remember watching fundamentalist Christian

congregations often encouraging members to use their utilitarian gifts to benefit the greater

body of believers, and to reach out to non-believers. However, somehow I do not, even

though the arts are given a special place throughout Scripture, clearly remember ever being

trained to understand the valuable role of the Christian artist. I do not clearly remember being

encouraged by the congregation to recognize that my ability with the visual arts was a gift,

and that it should be used to express truth, even if that truth collides with manmade tradition.

I do not clearly remember being taught that the church is ready to support the often lonely

and confusing life of the artist. And, I am simply one painter among a great host of

Christian actors, authors, dancers, directors, designers, musicians, painters, poets and

producers. Therefore, I ask, What is the role of the artist in a fundamentalist Christian

church? (Chapter Six).


45

* * *

Figure 1. Grandma and Grandpa‟s Barn, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

I sit in the rocking chair and stare at the barn (Figure 1)—it is almost time to begin.

The meditative atmosphere makes me think upon the primary question of the day: What is

the role of the artist in a fundamentalist Christian church? I look over the short brick fence that

surrounds the yard and separates it from miles and miles of green farmland. I find the

horizon line, and think of the many passionate and fluorescent sunsets I have seen from this

backyard

—colors that forever remind me that only one real painter exists.


46

CHAPTER III

BUILDING AND STRETCHING

What is the relationship between Fundamentalism, perfectionism, and legalism?

* * *

I have been longing for a blank canvas for some time now.

Potential.

Possibility.

Passion.

It is similar to the feeling I had walking across the stage on the day of my high school

graduation, and yet, it is better. There is nothing quite like the feeling of standing in front of

a blank canvas. It is wonderfully intimidating and inviting at the same time. It has been

several months since my last painting, and I have been longing for a blank canvas for some time now.

Building a canvas?—now that is a different story.

It is the writer‟s research.

It is the casts‟ rehearsal.

It is a musician‟s sound check.

It is behind the scenes. It is not glorious. It is hard work. It is monotonous. It is

monotonous. And…it has to be done.

And…it has to be done right.

I used to build all of my canvases for all of my performances. Now, I simply email a

list of supplies and numbered directions to the church where I am planning to perform.

Undoubtedly, the best people that I have met through Paint Talks are the servants, the


47

Steven‟s, the Danny‟s, the Lex‟s, the Ronny‟s, the carpenters, that volunteer, or quietly allow others

to volunteer them, to complete this task. At times, I think these people are angels.

However, I have definitely NOT forgotten about the hard work—the blood, the

sweat, the heavy lifting, the patience, the precision, the perfection—that it takes to build a canvas

on my own. Thankfully, today, I have the help of my Grandpa.

Today we are building a special canvas.

There is no room for error.

* * *

DEFINING CHRISTIAN FUNDAMENTALISM

I was born and raised in a fundamentalist Christian church, specifically the Churches

of Christ. My father always preached for Churches of Christ. One of my grandparents,

both of my parents, each of my brothers, and I each spent at least a short while at

universities founded by the Churches of Christ. An inscription from John 8:32 above the

Christian Development Center of Lubbock Christian University, the school from which I

received a Bachelor of Arts in Bible, reads, “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth will make

you free.” The particular Bible verse selected to reign over the daily activities of the campus

emphasizes one of the fundamental beliefs of the Churches of Christ—that scripture is inerrant.

It has been said that, “[describing] Fundamentalism is a little like the ant describing

the elephant. There are many aspects to Fundamentalism and describing the movement

depends somewhat upon one‟s perspective” (Cloud, 2006). The Oxford English Dictionary

(2008) defines Christian Fundamentalism as “A religious movement, which originally

became active among various Protestant bodies in the United States after the war of 1914-

1918, based on strict adherence to certain tenets (e.g. the literal inerrancy of Scripture) held


48

to be fundamental to the Christian faith.” Churches of Christ are simply one of many

associations often labeled as fundamentalist. The term is given to any church that believes in

certain fundamental tenants concerning Christian doctrine and practice. Terry Matthews

(1995) of Wake Forest University states the following:

The term “Fundamentalism” came into existence at the Niagara Falls Bible

Conference which was convened in an effort to define those things that were

fundamental to belief. The term was also used to describe “The Fundamentals,” a

collection of twelve books on five subjects published in 1910 by Milton and Lyman

Steward. These two wealthy brothers were concerned with the moral and spiritual

decline they believed was infecting Protestantism, and sought to restore the historic

faith with a 12 volume call to arms that dealt with five subjects that later became

known as the five fundamentals of the faith: (1) Literal inerrancy of the autographs

(the originals of each scriptural book); (2) the virgin birth and deity of Christ; (3) the

substitutionary view of the atonement; (4) the bodily resurrection of Christ; (5) The

imminent return of Christ. These twelve volumes were sent to “every pastor,

evangelist, missionary, theological student, Sunday School Superintendent, YMCA

and YWCA secretary.” In all, some 3 million copies were mailed out.

The particular fundamental of the Christian faith relevant for this study is the first

named by Matthews, the inerrancy of scripture. Growing up in the Churches of Christ, a

phrase that I often heard was, “Where the Bible is silent, the Church is silent.” Despite the

original meaning of this idea, I witnessed this statement often being interpreted by the

congregations I attended as meaning “If the Bible doesn‟t specifically condone it, we do not do it.”


49

This had an interesting impact on the way the churches I grew up in treated the arts, since

the arts are not discussed at length in scripture.

When Scripture is seen as inerrant, when Scripture is seen as the ultimate authority,

then the interpretation of Scripture becomes all important. My experience with

fundamentalist churches is that when scripture is taken out of context, it often leads to heavy

struggles with perfectionism and legalism. For instance, in a fundamentalist Christian culture,

when the phrase “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48,

NIV) is read out of context, it is easily interpreted that human beings must strive for

perfection, in everything, all the time. When the phrase is read in context it simply means to

love as God loves.

Another example of the importance of context is found in reading passages

concerning works and grace. If a person only reads the passage, “As the body without the

spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead” (James 2:26, NIV), and never reads, “For it is

by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of

God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in

Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Ephesians

2:8-10, NIV)—it is very easy to think that works lead to salvation. This misreading would

make it very easy for a person to believe it is right to live legalistically for God.

The two (of many possible) examples show how reading Scripture out of context can

be detrimental. I sincerely believe that the misreading of Scripture, especially for the

fundamentalist Christian, can lead to perfectionism and legalism. It is impossible to say, and

I would never say, that all fundamentalist Christians are perfectionists, or that all

fundamentalist Christians are legalists. And, obviously, perfectionism is not by any means


50

automatically connected to religion. However, speaking from personal experience, I know

that in my youth (especially) I often read scripture out of context. And, to this day, I often

suffer from the paralyzing effects of perfectionism and legalism.

* * *

The clean, glass door closes behind me, and once again I enter into

Grandma’s house. I have to change clothes before starting this messy work. I step onto the

perfectly shiny linoleum floor when I hear my grandma from the kitchen.

GM: Kent, when you come in and out today, be sure to take off your shoes. Also, if you

are about to take a shower, remember to dry it out when you‟re finished.

I move briskly through the clean living room, noticing that even the baseboards are

free of dust. I look around and remember that everything in this room (and in this house)

has its proper place—beautifully colored sofas and recliners, fancy china cabinets, gold and

mahogany framed artwork and family photographs, a spinet piano, a game table made of

solid oak, and a state of the art entertainment system. The floor of the fireplace is swept

completely clean of any ashes from the previous evening‟s fire. I continue walking to and

then through a narrow white tiled walkway, careful to not accidentally touch a glass shelf

mounted on the wall (I have shattered this shelf at least once in my lifetime, but it was

quickly replaced with another perfectly sized piece of glass). As I step into “my” bedroom I

notice that it is not nearly as well kept as when I brought my suitcases in the night before—it

is no longer perfect.

* * *

Today I will wear the traditional Paint Talk uniform: A clean, black, Hanes T-shirt,

boxers, paint stained jeans with gaping holes in both knees, a paint stained black leather belt,


51

and paint splattered brown Birkenstocks (it always frustrates me that my brown leather

Birkenstocks do not perfectly match my black leather belt or black T-shirt).

* * *

The clean, gray, steel door to Grandpa’s white barn swings inward. I step

across the threshold onto a pallet of extremely slick and smooth concrete—it is almost

polished from consistent, daily activity. I look around the dimly lit room and remember that

tradition runs deep at this house. A Ford van sits in the middle of the room—Grandpa only

buys Ford. Next to it is a John Deere tractor—Grandpa only buys John Deere. Beside the

tractor is a (John Deere) riding lawnmower, a push mower, and a weed eater that my

grandparents use on a weekly basis—they are religious when it comes to their own yard

work, and the yard work of the local Church of Christ. Circling the room are cabinets

holding various items including tools, other hardware, shelves with large pieces of farm

equipment, old, unplugged refrigerators full of paint and other chemicals, and a steel

workbench. The room is almost exactly as I remember it being two years ago, and even

twenty years ago.

Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step.

I hear black boots walking up the smooth sidewalk behind me.

GP: Kent, I‟m going to move the van so you have room to do your work in your

traditional spot.

* * *

Perfection and Tradition is like Potassium and Water

Mrs. Crafton, my sophomore chemistry teacher, laughed as she read the punch line

to my chemistry valentine made from craft paper and water colors. The outside cover read,


52

“When you and me get together…” The inside cover—“…it‟s like potassium and water,

baby.” Mrs. Crafton, complete with the mad scientist look, had recently told the class about

a time when one of her sophomore students tried to steal the highly volatile compound of

pure potassium by secretly sliding it in his front pants pocket. Little did he know that the

slight perspiration of his nervous criminal body would ignite the potassium, and catch his

crotch on fire.

I really had not thought the card through, however. While I had meant the phrase to

describe a positive, romantic chemistry, I now know that the reader could understand the

card as saying that when two particular personalities come together, they clash so bad that it

causes an atomic effect—and people die.

None the less, the phrase “potassium and water” has stuck with me. I usually say it

with the negative connotation, now.

For example, sometimes when I describe how I was raised in a family with extremely

high standards of excellence (Burns, 1980) that at least bordered on perfectionism, and that I

was raised in a traditional and often legalistic denomination, I compare it to mixing

potassium and water.

Before someone can understand Paint Talks, they must first understand my journey

of faith—a story about perfection, legalism, and eventually, grace.

* * *

I open the great door to the barn, and my Grandpa moves the Ford van to the gravel

driveway that separates a small back yard from miles of country. I walk to my vehicle parked

on the same gravel driveway to gather the following supplies for a six by eight foot canvas:


53

Two 1” x 4” x 6‟ Lumber

Two 1” x 4” x 8‟ Lumber Four 6” x 5/16” L-Brackets

1 Box of (no. 8) 3/4” Wood Screws 4 (no. 8) 3” Wood Screws

3/8” Staples ¼” Drill Bit

Three Yards of 90‟ Unbleached Muslin

12oz. Elmer‟s Glue 1/2 Gallon water

5 Gallon Plastic Bucket Paint Roller and Tray

1 Gallon Flat White Indoor Latex Paint 4 Bottles White Craft Paint

The West Texas breeze picks up as I move the canvas supplies, as well as the rest of

the painting supplies, to the barn. I cannot help but notice the beautiful sound of the

swaying, living pine trees that grow just across the short fence in the back yard. I stop

walking and rest one end of a dead board on the ground. I stare upwards—in awe. My

attention shifts from the majesty of the tall green pines to the white sticker on the smooth

brown lumber. Below the barcode are the words “Portland, Oregon.” I again look upward

towards the dancing trees—and I feel sad. Did the lumber in my hands recently stand tall

among the great pines and firs of the Northwest? Did it have a view of Cannon Beach, and

the beautiful Pacific Coast? I wonder what the land looks like now that the trees are gone,

now that man has perfected it.


54

* * *

Figure 2. Constructing the Right Angle of a Canvas Frame, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

CUTTING THE FRAME

G: How long has it been since you made a canvas?

K: It has been a while—I have been spoiled. (pause) —long enough that I am going to

use the directions that I usually send to a church.

I begin reading from a printed piece of paper. The first step of building a canvas frame is entirely about

precision (Figure 2).

1. Cut 45 degree angles on the 1” x 4” boards in a manner where the final formation of a 6‟ x 8‟ rectangle is possible.

2. Connect each corner of the frame using a 6” x 5/16” L-bracket and 6 (no. 8) 3/4” wood screws (this is the back of the canvas).

3. Drill one pilot hole through the side of each of the four corners in a way that the two

boards of each corner can then be connected with one (no. 8) 3” wood screw.

G: Were you able to find very straight 1” x 4”‟s?


55

K: Actually, I had to go to two different stores—the ones I found are close to perfect.

I hand one of the six foot boards to my Grandpa. He holds it to his eye, like a telescope.

G: That is pretty straight.

While the directions are simple, finding a piece of wood that is perfectly straight, and

cutting the board to a perfect length, and sawing the ends into perfect forty-five degree

angles is nearly impossible without precision technology. I mount the first board on the

compound miter saw, and align the laser marked cutting line. I pull down my safety glasses,

squeeze the trigger, and start the machine. As I perfect the wood, it makes a painful,

piercing sound.

* * *

DEFINING PERFECTIONISM

Is perfectionism a problem? David Burns (1980) states that perfectionism is not “…the

healthy pursuit of excellence by men and women who take genuine pleasure in trying to

meet high standards” (p. 34). Rather, perfectionists are people “...whose standards are high

beyond reach or reason, people who strain compulsively and unremittingly toward

impossible goals and who measure their own worth entirely in terms of productivity and

accomplishment.” (p.34) Martin M. Antony, Ph.D. & Richard P. Swinson, M.D. call

perfectionism a “multi-dimensional concept” in their text When Perfect isn‟t Good Enough

(1998). Using Hewitt and Flett (1990; 1991a; 1991b) they describe three specific types of

perfectionism:

Self-Oriented Perfectionism

This is a tendency to have standards for yourself that are unrealistically high and

impossible to attain. These standards are self-imposed and tend to be associated


56

with self criticism and an inability to accept your own mistakes and faults. When

“self” oriented perfectionism is combined with negative life events or perceived

failure, it can lead to difficulties with depression.

Other-Oriented Perfectionism

This is a tendency to demand that others meet your unrealistically high standards.

People who are “other-oriented” perfectionists are often unable to delegate tasks to

others, for fear of being disappointed by a less than perfect performance of the job.

Other-oriented perfectionists may also have problems with excessive anger,

relationship stress, and other difficulties related to their high expectations of others.

Socially Prescribed Perfectionism

“Socially prescribed” perfectionists have an exaggerated belief that others have

expectations of them that are impossible to meet. Furthermore, people who are

socially prescribed perfectionists believe that in order to gain approval from others,

these high standards must be met. Unlike self-oriented perfectionism, in which

expectations are self-imposed, in socially prescribed perfectionism, the high

standards are believed to be imposed by others. Socially prescribed perfectionism

can lead to feelings of anger (at people who are perceived to have unrealistically high

standards), depression (if high standards are not met), or social anxiety (fear of being

judged by other people). (Antony and Swinson, 1998, p.9)

Perfectionism “…is often associated with certain psychological problems, including

excessive anger, depression, social anxiety, body image problems, obsessive-compulsive

behaviors, and worry” (Antony & Swinson, p. 2), but in and of itself it is not considered a


57

problem until “…it leads to unhappiness or interferes with functioning” (p. 27). Based on

personal experience, I would agree with this assertion.

* * *

I do not color outside the lines.

The crowd cheered as the hefty little league coach garbed in a Cleveland Indians uniform

walked to the mound. I stayed in my second base position with my right hand on my right

knee and my glove hand on my left knee, waiting on the next pitcher to warm up, and get us

on to the post-game refreshments. All of a sudden, the coach looked at me, and motioned

me to join him in the center of the infield. My stomach dropped, and I froze—I didn‟t

know how to pitch! The coach motioned again. My six year old joints barely moved as I

slowly walked to the hill of dirt, and took the heavy ball from the large man. I stared, for

what seemed like forever, at the catcher, the batter, the umpire, and the crowd—the huge

crowd. I took a hard look at the situation, and then I made a decision. I would rather not

throw a single pitch than make a mistake. I motioned to my coach, and when he arrived at

the mound I handed him the ball, and walked back to second base.


Starting in 6th grade, the majority of my class projects took all night, and involved a

refrigerator box.


My family was on summer vacation in our former hometown of Fort Worth, TX. I was

tired, and my eight year old shoulders were sunburned after a full day at the Wet „n‟ Wild


58

water park (I loved everything about Wet „n‟ Wild except the fact that people saw me

without my shirt). I was standing on red carpet in the lobby of the church, watching my

parents talk with people that we had not seen in a year or two, when an elderly woman

named Jane Sears walked up to me, and pinched my chubby cheek. I don‟t know if she

simply thought that I could not spell, or if she did not know that I had a real problem with

the way I looked. “Wow, Kent,” she said, “You are getting F-A-T.” She spelled it out, and I

walked straight to the bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and cried.


By the time I was ten I had a regimented workout routine.


I sat on the floor, in tears. I could not do it right. I had been trying to memorize the names

of the spinal bones for my seventh grade life science test, but I couldn‟t do it perfectly.

Everyone else in the house was in bed. I sat in the living room saying the words out loud to

myself over and over, “Cervical, thoracic, lumbar, sacral, and coccyx…” Frustrated, messing

up again, I wiped the tears hard from my eyes. The problem was not that I could not

remember the bones, but that every time I tried to say the words, if I made an additional

movement or sound, I had to start over and add those sounds and movements into the next

recital. Why was I doing this? For some unknown reason (to me at the time), I felt that if I

did not say the words, and the sounds, and the motions perfectly…something bad would

happen to my family. It was superstitious, and it was obsessive compulsive.


59


By the time I was 14, I had 40 albums of sports cards with over 500 cards in each album.

Every one of the cards was in number order.


* * *

Figure 3. Stretching and Stapling Cloth to Frame, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

STRETCHING THE CANVAS

We finish drilling in the last corner screw, and raise the frame against the cabinets along

the east barn wall. My black shirt is already damp from the kneeling and drilling—not to

mention my knees already have that familiar soreness about them. I stare at the rectangular

frame, and think about how the next step, stretching the canvas, is less about precision, and

more about following directions (Figure 3).


60

1. Lay the frame (the side without L-brackets) on top of the unbleached muslin. Trim

the muslin so that 3” of cloth extend past each side of the frame.

2. Double one edge of the excess muslin, stretch it tight to the back of the canvas, and staple the cloth to the wood using 3/8” staples (about every four inches). At the

corner, fold in a triangle (like a bed-sheet) and staple it to the frame.

3. Do the same for each side moving clockwise or counterclockwise around the frame (this seems to get the most wrinkles out).

G: Kent, would it work better if you—

Grandpa suggests a new way of stretching the canvas. I am appreciative, but I have done this process so

many times, I feel that I know the best way.

K: That is a good idea—but it really works best (looking at the paper) if I just follow the

rules.

Would I build my canvases differently if someone showed me a better way? Perhaps, but the

steps on the paper are simple, clear, and easy to follow. Most of all, I know what I will get

when I follow them.

I begin to stretch the canvas, the old way.

* * *

DEFINING LEGALISM

What is legalism? According to the Oxford English Dictionary (2008), legalism is

defined as follows: “…the principles of those who are accused of adhering to the law as

opposed to the Gospel; the doctrine of justification by works, or teaching which savours of

that doctrine.”

The Christian Bible is divided into two parts, the Old Testament and the New

Testament. When Christians refer to the “old law,” they are speaking about the Old

Testament laws that God gave to the Israelites in a meeting with Moses on Mount Sinai,


61

saying, “These are the laws you are to set before them” (Exodus 21:1). The laws that God

sets before the Israelites include the Ten Commandments, as well as detailed instructions for

dealing with, among other things, servants, personal injuries, protection of property, social

responsibility, justice and mercy, the Sabbath, festivals, and worship rituals. The old law was

central to the faith of ancient Israel.

Christians respect the old law; however, they believe the purpose of the law was

fulfilled in Jesus. The Apostle Paul, in Romans 5:20-21 explains, “The law was added so that

the trespass might increase,” (NIV) revealing that the old law showed right from wrong.

Similar to how nobody knows they are breaking the speed limit until as sign is posted, the

law revealed sin. Paul goes on to say, “But where sin increased, grace increased all the more,

so that just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring

eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord” (Romans 5:21, NIV). The law revealed sin, but it

also revealed the grace that saves man from sin. Therefore, while Christians respect the old

law, they focus on the saving grace of God through Jesus.

Jesus greatly respected the law, saying, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the

Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them” (Matthew 5:17,

NIV). However, he taught people that the heart of the law was not law, but heart.

* * *

You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, „Do not murder, and anyone who

murders will be subject to judgment.‟ But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his

brother will be subject to judgment.

(Matthew 5:21-22, NIV)


62

* * *

You have heard that it was said, „Do not commit adultery.‟ But I tell you that anyone who

looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.


* * *

You have heard that it was said, „Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.‟ But I tell you, Do not

resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.


* * *

Jesus continually reprimanded the Pharisees, members of a legalistic Jewish sect, for

showing off their hollow, external application of the law: “Woe to you, teachers of the law

and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the

outside but on the inside are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean” (Matthew

23:27, NIV). I clearly remember being taught a song in a fundamentalist bible class as a

child that stated, “I don‟t wanna be a Pharisee…doing things so you can see…I don‟t wanna

be a Pharisee.” Despite the song, in my youth, I was often blind to the fact that God cared

most about my heart. And, many of the religious traditions I was instructed to follow now

seem eerily similar to the hollow, burdensome rules of the Pharisees.

I was blind, but now I see.

* * *

Now I (Phari) see.

I could watch He-Man (Scheimer, 1983), but I could not buy his toys, because the story

claimed that its characters were The Masters of the Universe.


63

Now I (Phari) see.

I was not necessarily concerned about Mrs. Smyth, but I knew she was lost. Even though

my First Presbyterian Kindergarten teacher was great at teaching and a great person—she

was lost, headed for Hell, and did not seem to have a clue. How did I know? She celebrated

Christmas—and Easter. And everybody, at least from my Church and in my family, knew

the Bible did not say the exact date when Jesus was born, or when he died, or when he rose.

As a small child, I loved opening presents (as a “family” celebration), searching for Easter

eggs (as a “family” celebration), and knowing the truth about the two holidays.

Now I (Phari) see

The woman bent down and looked me in the eye—she had to stoop pretty low to get on my level.

Just before this moment, I had noticed that my shoe was untied as I walked away from the

children‟s Sunday school class called Bible Hour, so I took a knee on the floor, set my Bible

on the ground, and used both hands to tie my shoe. Sternly and quietly the concerned

woman stated, “This is the Word of God. Do not put it on the floor.” Her eyes were very

angry.

Now I (Phari) see

By the time I was almost out of elementary school, after intense training in proof texting, I

had become an excellent debater of the two most important ideas in the Bible: A cappella

Music (Ephesians 5:19) and Baptism (Acts 2:38).


64

Now I (Phari) see

THE order of worship: Opening Song, Announcements, Prayer, Songs (x3), Prayer for the

Bread, Bread, Prayer for the Cup, Cup, Words Separating Communion from the Offering,

Offering, Song, Sermon, Invitation Song, Closing Song, Prayer.

THE order of salvation: Hear, Believe, Repent, Confess, Be Baptized

THE (unsaid) order of damnation: Don‟t baptize, Baptize for anything other than the remission

of sins, Ask Jesus into your heart, Sprinkle instead of immerse, Use musical instruments in

worship, Clap, Dance, Do not separate communion from the Lord‟s Supper, Allow a woman

to speak or pray in the assembly, Allow a Woman Deacon, Wear a cross, Believe in religious

holidays, Believe in Speaking in tongues, Believe in miraculous healing, Believe in the idea of

once-saved-always-saved, Honor Mary the mother of Jesus, Call yourself anything other than

a Christian—Satanist, Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist, Baptist, Presbyterian, First Christian

(not necessarily in this order).

Now I (Phari) see

* * *

My fingers are bleeding as old scars from old projects have reopened against the

sharp staples that now holding the material tightly to the frame. The muslin is stretched so

tight that I am surprised it has not torn

—and completely ruined.

Again, we lift the heavy frame up and set it against the wall. I think about how it is a

miracle, with my infrastructure of perfectionism and my tight, white washed, cloth covering

of legalism—it is a miracle that I am still a Christian. Many people with similar stories have


65

chosen a different path by now. And, I can understand. Besides the scars on my hands, I

have many scars on my past from being baptized by fire, and walking in fear.

* * *

BAPTIZED BY FIRE

My mom pulled up to the high school tennis courts where we had just finished our freshman

practice. I sat down in the front seat of the gray Buick Park Avenue.

M: Hey Kent!

K: Hey, Mom.

M: How was your day?

K: Good.

For a couple more minutes my mom went through the typical list of redundant after school questions—then

she switched to a topic that caught my attention.

M: I‟ve been at the Church listening to Larry Walker, the man leading the gospel

meeting at church this week—he is doing an excellent job.

Larry Walker was an evangelical preacher leading a Gospel meeting at the church where my dad preached.

M: You really ought to go!

I paused, slouched in my seat, and thought about my life.

Since my baptism four years earlier, I had been less than holy (not a surprise

considering that my primary reason for being baptized was to impress my friends and

family). I thought about my double life: I was acting well in front of my family, but living

another way in the dark corners and locker rooms of my life. I cussed like a sailor, was most

advanced at telling filthy jokes, and did my share of looking at Playboy magazines.


66

But, I also thought about something else. Recently, something had been changing

inside of me—something that made me feel that my actions actually carried weight, that they

carried responsibility. This was a new feeling. I also had a new and unexplainable desire to

seek an honorable path of some sort.

I sat up.

K: Okay, I‟ll go.

* * *

Mom and I walked into the auditorium of the protestant church. The lights were dim, the walls were white,

and the preacher was on fire. I had arrived just in time to catch the theme of the message.

LW: If Jesus…were to come back today…would you…without a doubt in your mind…go to be with

him in Heaven?

If Jesus…were to come back today…would you…without a doubt in your

mind…go to be with him in Heaven?

My human ears clearly received every word of this statement.

My perfectionist ears only heard six: “…without a doubt in your mind…”

I thought, “Am I saved?”

LW: If Jesus…were to come back today…would you…without a doubt in your

mind…go to be with him in heaven?

I cringed on the inside every time I heard him say it.

Almost as impacting as this one statement was Mr. Walker‟s description of Hell that

soon followed. It was directed at those who were not sure that they were saved. He spoke

in a way that was similar to Jonathan Edwards in the famous 1748 sermon entitled, “Sinners

in the Hands of an Angry God”:


67

The use of this awful subject may be of awakening to unconverted persons in this

congregation. This that you have heard is the case of every one of you that are out of

Christ. That world of misery, that lake of burning brimstone is extended abroad

under you. There is the dreadful pit of the glowing flames of the wrath of God; there

is hell‟s wide gaping mouth open; and you have nothing to stand upon, nor anything

to take hold of: there is nothing between you and hell but the air; it is only the power

and mere pleasure of God that holds you up. (Mulford, Vietto & Winans, 2002, p.

679)

I was afraid. No, I was petrified. To the Churches of Christ, the act of baptism is

central to salvation. Even though I had been baptized four years earlier, how could I know,

without a doubt in my mind, that I had performed the act perfectly? There was no room for

error.

Later, at home, led by fear, I frantically began reading every verse in the Bible

concerning baptism—as if my soul depended on it. I tediously read all the verses, but I did not

bother reading them in context. I became very worried.

K: Mom, I am worried that I was not baptized for the right reasons.

M: Kent, everyone keeps learning after they are baptized—you don‟t have to know

everything about baptism when you get baptized.

K: Yeah, but I just do not know if I did it for the right reasons!

M: Well, there is no use in worrying about something that you can change.

This statement was strangely similar to the note taped to the top of my mom‟s computer that stated (something

to the effect of), “If you don‟t have time to do it the right way now, when will you have time to do it the right

way later?”


68

Very soon after the conversation with my mom, I was baptized—re-baptized. Just

before I went into the water, I remember trying to scroll through all of the ideas and

meanings that I had been reading about the act (so that I would not have to get re-re-

baptized). Afterwards, as several members of my new family stood in a circle holding hands,

my youth minister Victor Rains began singing a familiar tune, #376—Nothing But the Blood

(Howard, 1977).

V: “What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus…”

Hearing the words, all of a sudden I thought to myself, “Did I forget to remember that this baptism was for

the forgiveness of my sins?!” Had my work counted for nothing?

Three years later, I was re-re-baptized.

* * *

WALKING IN FEAR

From age 14 to 18, my life was driven by fear, of my own damnation, and the

damnation of others. God was very real to me, but so was Hell. The only way I knew to

make the fear subside was to live exactly like God wanted me to live, and convince others to

do the same. At this point, I came to a very distorted and very dangerous theory about God:

The more it hurts, the more it pleases Him.

This idea led to my personal protestant version of penance, and compounded my

struggles with illogical, obsessive compulsive behaviors. I would punish myself for not

reaching certain spiritual standards, or punish myself in order to make simple tasks difficult.

I constantly felt burdened to go out of my way and tell people about the hope that I had


69

found—the more uncomfortable the circumstances, the better. My penance was evident in

my exercise routine, daily bible reading, and fervent participation in Church events. One

night I remember sneaking out of the house and laying down face first in the grass to pray

before God—because it itched. I thought that the pain of the grass would open the phone

lines to Heaven.

The most potentially dangerous situation that arose from this theory happened

during my senior year of high school. While most of my friends were wondering where they

wanted to go to college, I was asking myself, “What would be the hardest choice for me to make?”

At first, when I considered the idea, it seemed like a game. I played out the scenario in my

mind. The most difficult decision for me would, hands down, be to join the military. I

hated the idea of boot camp, and I did not want to ever have to shoot, stab, or blow up

another human being. Honestly, I had dreams of going off to a university where I could

pursue ministry and art (ministry was a love/hate relationship for me—I felt that I was good

at it, and I truly loved Jesus and wanted to help people. However, I also hated the burden).

In an instant, the humor fell away. I thought about the atmosphere of the military,

and the need for my (distorted and extreme) message. All of a sudden, I felt that if I did not

join the military, I would be taking a lesser road. Any time that I saw an advertisement for

the military on a sign or a commercial or a T-shirt, I thought that God was telling me to join

(every blowing leaf, remember). I did not want it, but because it hurt, I thought that it

would please God. The end of my senior year was quite miserable due to this particular

struggle.


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* * *

Figure 4. Mixing Glue and Water Before Setting the Canvas, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

SETTING THE CANVAS

K: My hands may scar from that one.

G: We should have got you some gloves.

Sweaty and bloody, I stand looking at the cloth covered frame.

The image is about to change, dramatically.

K: (pause) You know, this frame takes on a whole new meaning once the different coats

of glue and paint are applied (Figure 4).

Right now the object is simply a brown and wooden rectangle with a tight piece of

tan and weak cloth stretched around it—but it is about to change. The final stage of

building the canvas is simple, but it takes patience.

1. Mix 1/2 gallon of water with 12oz. of Elmer‟s glue. Brush or sponge the liquid on the entire canvas. Lean the canvas against a wall to dry.

2. If large wrinkles appear, you may need to tighten the cloth by removing 2-3

staples at the wrinkle, pulling the space tight, and then stapling again.


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3. Roll two coats of flat white indoor latex paint. Let dry, then roll two coats of craft paint.

Finishing a canvas requires great patience, seeing how it usually takes a full day to paint every

layer. However, at the end of the day, the result is a clean white canvas—ready for use.

* * *

The image is about to change dramatically.

We waited patiently and quietly for Dr. Federer. Most of us already had a notepad

open and ready for the daily quiz. It did not take long to gain respect for a professor who,

although considered an expert on the New Testament, had already written and published a

commentary on the Old Testament book of Ezekiel. Dr. Federer was solemn, serious, and

paid very close attention to detail—especially the papers written for his class. Typically, the

Lubbock Christian University, junior level, New Testament class would begin with a quiz

over the readings, and then move into an intense lecture. Students did not joke around in

this class.

Therefore, we were surprised to see Dr. Federer silently stroll into the classroom and

sit on top of his desk. He began swinging his legs back and forth, like a child on a park bench.

I squinted at the peculiar professor and thought, “What is going on?”

He spoke.

F: Please put your papers away. I have just one thing to tell you today, and then you are

free to leave.

The sounds of shuffling papers quickly silenced.

F: Roland Jarrett lived in Ohio. It was 1965. He was serving a life sentence. Roland

could not have known that in a different part of the state, a psychologist studying the


72

effects of long term prison sentencing was hoping to use him for an experiment.

The psychologist happened to be friends with the governor of Ohio, and one day

she asked him for a favor—a pardon for Roland Jarrett. She explained that Roland,

although serving a life sentence, had never physically harmed another human being.

She explained that he was truly in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that his

punishment was more about his association with dangerous criminals than it was

about him being a danger to society. Finally, she explained her experiment.

The governor issued the pardon.

Very soon, the psychologist was sitting in a secured room, across a small

table from Roland Jarrett.

P: Roland, do you know what this is?

F: The psychologist held up a white piece of paper.

R: No ma‟am.

P: This is a pardon, signed by the governor of Ohio, for you.

F: Roland said nothing.

P: The governor has set you free.

F: Again, Roland said nothing.

P: Roland, this is not a joke. Take a look for yourself.

F: The woman slid the piece of paper to the man wearing handcuffs and a white

jumpsuit. He briefly looked at the document, and quickly and quietly slid the paper

back across the table.

P: Roland, today, when the guards call everyone back to the prison at

the end of the recess time, you are to walk to the opposite end of the


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yard—walk to the gate. Once all the other inmates are inside the

prison, a group of guards will meet you at the gate, give you your

belongings, and open the gate for you. Roland, today, you are a free

man.

F: Roland said nothing.

Dr. Federer had all of us on the edge of our seat.

F: Later that day, the psychologist stood outside a double chain link fence. Along with

two armed guards, the woman closely studied the actions Roland Jarrett. He was not

playing basketball or lifting weights with the other inmates. He was not even talking

with anyone. Rather, he quietly leaned against the prison wall watching the actions

of the other inmates. At the end of the recess period, the guards whistled for the

inmates to form a line at the prison door. The psychologist paid very close attention

to every movement of Mr. Jarrett. All of the men in white suits walked to the line—

all but one. Roland Jarrett wandered to the middle of the yard. The Psychologist

watched intently. Roland stood still in the middle of the yard—half way between the

gate, and the prison. Slowly, Roland looked at the gate. Then, he looked at the

prison. Then, he looked at the psychologist.

Dr. Federer paused.

F: Next…Roland Jarrett walked to the line, and walked into the prison, and served the

rest of his life sentence.

“What a letdown!” I thought.

Because I was a preacher‟s son, what had once been a very interesting story had just

taken a very boring turn. I knew what Dr. Federer was about to say—“We all have a choice, the


74

prison or the gate. If we choose the gate, if we choose Christ, we can walk into eternal life. If we choose the

prison, we will perish”—

But, that is not what he said.

The image is about to change dramatically.

F: I want you to get a very clear image of Roland Jarrett, making his decision in the

middle of that prison yard. Now, I want you to imagine, that Roland Jarrett

(Pause)

is a Christian.

(Pause)

Class is dismissed.

I sat in silence. I realized that my life was about to change dramatically.

* * *

EMBRACING GRACE

I had been longing for a blank canvas for some time. The day that I heard the story of

Roland Jarrett, I realized, with surreal clarity, that God had given me freedom through

Christ. My salvation was not something that I had to worry about or struggle for daily. It

was not something that I was to obtain by doing the most difficult things in life—I already

had it. But, I needed to embrace it. God had given me the gift of a pardon, not only for the

next life, but for this life—but I had to open it—I had to consciously walk to the gate.

* * *

G: Looks sharp!

I am holding a roller soaked with white paint.

K: Yeah, it does. Thank you so much for your help.


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We stare at the completed canvas with pride.

Just as the many layers of paint now hide the infrastructure and the raw material of

the canvas, so many mentors have, layer by layer, helped me, little by little, separate

perfectionism and legalism from my perception of the Christian faith. Dr. Federer is one of

the many mentors that has helped me begin the journey of walking away from the concept

of a strictly works centered and fear centered faith, and towards a better understanding of

grace and mercy. It has not been a perfect journey. It has also not been a lonely journey—I

walk this road with many members of my family, and many members of fundamentalist

Christian churches.

My journey of faith is embodied in every Paint Talk performance. Every

performance allows me the opportunity to break through my personal barriers of

perfectionism and legalism—but every time I have to consciously embrace God‟s grace.

Each Paint Talks performance is automatically imperfect, not only because my shoes

and my belt do not match, but because the whole process is messy and unpredictable. I stick

my hands in a cup filled with wet paint, and I smear it across a canvas. I squeeze a sponge

soaked with paint and water against a white wall, and not even the power of gravity can

make it flow in a straight line to the floor. It inevitably turns and twists down the imperfect

surface of the canvas. I brush, flick, smear, squeeze and throw color—and, once the paint

leaves my hands, it also leaves my control. Even my attempt to redirect the paint into the

reflection of a specific image, is imperfect.

Each Paint Talks performance is also automatically a far cry from Pharisaical legalism.

The process boldly claims freedom and creativity in the Scriptural idea of worship. It breaks

from tradition, but it focuses on the heart—and, the process does not hurt. On the


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contrary, even though each Paint Talks performance involves an incredible amount of work,

each performance is also physically, emotionally, and spiritually energizing, exciting—and

fun.

And, if I embrace God‟s grace during a Paint Talks performance, every moment—the

preparation, the performing, and even the cleaning up—is a very freeing experience. But, if I

do not embrace His grace, the entire process quickly becomes a very heavy burden.

* * *

Figure 5. Finished Canvas, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

My Grandma sticks her head through the barn door.

GM: Kent, it is time for lunch.

The finished six by eight foot canvas standing before me is wonderfully intimidating

and wonderfully inviting (Figure 5). I have been longing for a blank canvas for some time now.


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CHAPTER IV

THE IMAGE

Am I being true to myself as an artist and as a Christian through Paint Talks?

* * *

The presenter pressed the button and an image of the Pulitzer Prize winning photo

taken by Kevin Carter in 1994 (Figure 6) appeared on the white screen.

P: What does it make you think?

(turn the page)


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Figure 6. Stricken Child Crawling towards Food Camp, photo by Kevin Carter (1993), (Stricken Child Crawling towards Food Camp, 2007).


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Immediately, the inattentive graduate school audience became attentive, and silent,

before the image of a small Sudanese child collapsed on the ground in a time of great

famine. The girl or boy is barely alive. She or he is exhausted and emaciated. The child is

helpless. Several feet behind the tiny, folded body, sits an ominous, black vulture.

It patiently waits for the child—to die.

Tears came to my eyes. I was heartbroken by this image. I was confused by this

image. I was angered by this image. “I will tell you what it makes me think! Why? Why does this

child suffer? Why is no one helping this child? Why is the photographer not helping the child?!”

Silence continued.

Then, the presenter began talking.

P: No one actually knows what happened to the child, but it is well known that the

photographer did not help the child. It is also well known that the photographer

committed suicide three months after he took the picture (Stricken Child Crawling

towards Food Camp, 2007).

* * *

I feel anxious. The new white canvas reminds me of a projector screen. I am taken

aback, not only to the difficult questions that I asked about the previous presentation, but to

the difficult questions that I consistently ask about the Paint Talks image: Is it right to use the

persuasive image to persuade an audience in spiritual matters?, Is this ability to create an image a gift from

God?, Are Paint Talks images art proper, craft or kitsch?, and Is it right to paint an image of Jesus?. By


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asking each of these questions, I hope to discover the answer to the following question: Am

I being true to myself as an artist and as a Christian?

“I wonder if I will understand any of these questions any better after today.”

Thinking about the picture that is about to fill this canvas, I consider how the image

is powerful—sometimes painfully powerful. Although it can be ambiguous, the visual holds

the power to argue and persuade. It can be used to bring about a great good, or it can be

used to elicit horrendous evil—the difference is often due to the amount of care taken by

the creator or the viewer. With the ability to create (or view) images, comes great

responsibility.

Perhaps this is why I am usually anxious in developing an image for a Paint Talks

performance.

* * *

Brynn steps into the barn and sees me standing before the canvas.

B: You‟re already taking a break? We just ate lunch?

K: Easy, I‟m thinking.

B: Ooooh.

She gives me a look, a familiar image that I easily interpret to mean “Don‟t waste your time overanalyzing.”

B: Well, don‟t waste your time overanalyzing.

See.

B: What are you thinking about?

(pause)

K: Well, first of all, I am thinking about how glad I am that I do not have to create a new

Paint Talks image today.


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B: Yeah, that will save you a lot of time!

We sit down in a couple of folding chairs.

* * *

DEVELOPING PAINT TALKS IMAGES

Developing an image for a Paint Talks performance is a mentally draining process

partially because there is actually no such thing as a Paint Talks image—the correct term is

Paint Talks images. The typical Paint Talks performance includes an acrylic painting that is

visible in regular light (Enclosed DVD; Appendices A-F). The acrylic painting often

involves several phases; one image completely changes into another, sometimes more than

once (Appendix C). The typical Paint Talks performance also involves a black light image, or

a painting that is created with paint that is visible in the dark under an ultraviolet light

(Appendices A and B).

The typical question I hear after the lights drop and the black light image glows in a

Paint Talks performance is, “How did you do that?” The answer I typically give is “That‟s a

great question.” The true answer is that the black light image is painted on the canvas before

the performance with a pigment that is invisible to the audience.

The process of creating the multiple images of a Paint Talks performance has become

more efficient throughout the years—but it is still very complex.

* * *

B: That‟s all you‟ve been thinking about?

K: No—I was also thinking—

B: Oh, sorry to interrupt, but I just remembered, Grandma wants you to work on a

puzzle that she has going in the living room.


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K: She can‟t handle it, huh?!

My family loves to compete at putting puzzles together. It usually turns into a girls vs. guys battle, and the

ever-annoying tactic of the girls is to walk up to the puzzle table during the guy‟s turn and say the words “key

piece.” Even though they may not actually see a “key piece”, the girls know that it gets under our skin when

we cannot see the piece.

B: (smiling) She said that she already found all of the “key pieces”—she just wants to

know if you can find them.

* * *

Every Paint Talks image demands lengthy consideration of the message, the icon, the

audience, and the layered image—it is similar to putting together a puzzle.

“KEY PIECE”: MESSAGE

First, I consider the message.

The process typically begins when a minister informs me of a message that they want

me to visually construct. Usually the message fits a theme of a sermon series, an event, or a

church camp—and, usually I am encouraged to incorporate both. Very rarely do I have the

option completely choose the image, but occasionally that scenario does happen.

At the point of the message, I usually feel like a designer and an artist—but more like

a designer than an artist. During my internship with a graphic design firm in Charlotte,

North Carolina, the owner of the firm claimed that there was a difference between art and

design. First, he stated that an artist creates a vocabulary, and then creates an image. Second,

he said that a designer uses someone else‟s vocabulary, and then creates an image. A Paint

Talks performance is art, for I try to only communicate messages that I believe—I try to

always proclaim my personal message. Also, I believe that my specific style of painting is a


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unique language. A Paint Talks performance is also design, however, for usually the primary

message that I attempt to communicate is dictated by the leaders at the Churches where I

paint.

“KEY PIECE”: ICON

Second, I consider the icon.

I am reminded of another lesson that I learned from the North Carolina Graphic

Design firm owner. He taught me that when a person wants to communicate a message

through a visual, they need to consider the primary image that communicates that message—

an icon. After sketching several different images for a painting, I typically feel that one looks

better. However, if the primary goal of a Paint Talks performance is to communicate a

message, it would be best to choose the most understandable, most functional image. It is

interesting to note that the term icon, when used for Eastern Orthodox Christian icons,

describes an item concerned with function over beauty. Eastern Orthodox icons are

beautiful, but their purpose is to serve as a mirror that reflects God, and to create a space for

prayer (Andreopoulos, 2006).

“KEY PIECE”: AUDIENCE

Third, I consider the image in light of the audience.

What ethnicities, genders, ages, socioeconomic statuses, and political stances are

represented? I realize that if I disregard the demographics of an audience, and paint an

offensive image, I will lose the audience‟s attention, and lose credibility. Even more, I realize

that if I choose an image that appeals to the demographics of the audience, I will gain the

audience‟s attention, and gain credibility.


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I also consider the attention span of the audience. Concerning the importance of

rhetoric in teaching the Gospel, St. Augustine stated, “Even food without which life is

impossible must be seasoned” (Augustine, & Robertson, 1997, p. 136). After teaching over

ten sessions of Public Speaking, I am well aware that a person needs to be awake if a spoken

(or painted) message is to have any impact.

I always enjoyed watching the live oil painting of Bob Ross (Schenck, 1983) when I

was a child. Who am I kidding? I still enjoy watching his re-runs, today. I believe there is

something intrinsically interesting about watching someone paint—regardless of what they

paint or how skilled they are. When I watch an image being painted, I am always wondering

what is coming next. Therefore, I realize that most people will be interested in a Paint Talks

performance simply because they are captivated by watching a live painting. However,

because I realize that even painting gets old after a while, I typically try to paint in a twenty

to thirty minute time frame.

“KEY PIECE”: THE LAYERED IMAGE

Fourth, I physically construct the image.

Once I have considered the message, the icon, and the audience, the final step is to

physically create the Paint Talks image. As mentioned, the final image is usually composed

of multiple layers—at the least one acrylic image and one black light image. Sometimes,

however, there are several stages to one acrylic painting (Appendix C).

Constructing a Paint Talks image involves a lot of visual brainstorming with a pencil

and a sketchpad. By trial and error, I figure out to the best of my ability how to make

images naturally fit together. In my mind, I try to imagine if my ideas will be feasible

considering the way that trying to move from one acrylic image to another can easily end up


85

in a muddy mess. I have learned that if I am not careful, the acrylic image can completely

disfigure the black light image. Also, because it is difficult to paint an image on a six by eight

foot canvas in twenty to thirty minutes, I typically try to construct an image that is fairly

simple in nature. By this, I mean that I typically look for images that can be reduced to

simple outlines and tones. Because the final acrylic image and the final black light image

must each be able to stand alone, it is very important to carefully consider the physical

construction of Paint Talks images.

After choosing and drawing the images for a Paint Talks performance, I copy the

images from regular paper to transparency paper. As mentioned, I always project and paint

the black light on the canvas before a Paint Talks performance. Next, I project and lightly

sketch the outline of the acrylic image. Typically, if I feel that I have created an image that is

fitting for many types of messages, I will save the transparency for possible use at different

performances.

* * *

B: Okay, sorry, so you were also thinking about—

K: Oh, I was also thinking about how difficult it is to communicate a clear message

through an image. Sometimes I really wonder if the people watching me paint, or

the people that look at a painting after a Paint Talks performance, really hear what I

am trying to say.

* * *

THE IMAGE IS AMBIGUOUS

Hill and Helmers (2004) state that the verbal traditionally holds greater persuasive

power than the visual. One of the reasons for this idea is that “… [images] are treated with


86

distrust” (Hill and Helmers, 2004, p. 1) due to their ambiguity and their play on the

emotions. It is, after all, very possible for two different people to see the exact same image

and yet understand two different meanings, or feel very different emotions. Blair (2004)

concurs that since the time of Aristotle, rhetoric has been primarily verbal: “The conception

of rhetoric as essentially about speech has remained with us to this day, although it has

become more and more contested” (p. 41). He shows that even proponents of visual

rhetoric admit that they “…believe that the paradigm case... [uses]…the spoken word to

persuade an audience” (Blair, 2004, p.42). However, despite the traditional distrust of the

visual, and the traditional use of the verbal, it is widely acknowledged in Communication

Studies that images do impact the world in a magnificent and unique way. It is widely agreed

that images are deeply integrated into mankind‟s sense of being, or self image, and therefore

it seems that visual communication is worthy of intense study.

* * *

K: Do you think that people typically understand what I am trying to say?

B: I think so; it seems that the images you choose to paint are…

Brynn searches for a particular word.

K: Iconic?

B: Maybe—what does that mean?

I think about the definitions provided by the owner of the Design Firm.

K: Basically—it just means that the image is an icon—that the image is going to be

understood by pretty much everyone.

I reach down to a backpack beside my chair and pull out a red folder full of images. If there is anything my

wife likes to do, it is to look through a stack of pictures.


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K: Remember these?

I joke.

B: Funny.

The sarcasm is thick. Brynn spent several preliminary hours helping me gather and organize the folder of

Paint Talks sketches and photographs.

K: Just kidding. So…iconic. In theory, if I choose the right images and paint them

properly, the audience, you in this case, should be able to generally understand what I

am trying to say. Do me a favor—look at the image I show you, and tell me the

message you hear.

* * *

I Show Brynn Hears

Planets Colliding (Figure 18) “Collision”

Man on the Cross (Figure19) “Jesus collides with us”

Desert (Figure 48) “Death”

Garden (Figure 51) “Life”

Man reaching out (Figure 52) “Jesus offers life”

Ship in a Storm (Figure 22) “Life is chaotic”

Man on a cross (Figure 23) “Jesus is peace”

Lighthouse (Figure 26) “Hope”

Man holding lighthouse (Figure 27) “Jesus is the light”

Person looking at hands (Figure 30) “What have I done?”

Globe (Figure 32) “World”

Hands under globe (Figure 33) “God is in control”


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* * *

B: (smiling) Yes, iconic.

(pause)

K: I could go on—I finished organizing everything into the primary Paint Talks images

(Appendix A), the multi-point Paint Talks images (Appendix B), the specialty images

(Appendix C)—

B: Specialty images?

K: Yeah, you know, the few images that I have done without a black light finale. Surely

you remember when I did the Paint Talk with Phillip a couple summers ago—about

the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32, NIV; Figure 68)?

Brynn shakes her head—she is not remembering.

K: Remember, I painted the original acrylic image of the father embracing the prodigal.

Then, I put Plexiglas over that image, and then I painted the Plexiglas white. During

the performance I painted the son in his sin and distress with muddy colors, and

even actual mud. But, at the climax of the story, when the son returns home to his

father, I took a clean sponge and clean water and washed the Plexiglas—revealing

the acrylic image?

Brynn remembers.

B: Oh, yeah.

K: I also used that style with a sermon about Jesus saving the woman who had been

caught in adultery (John 8:3, NIV; Figures 65-66). Or, do you remember the image

that I painted of the gift (Figures 69-70)?


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B: Yes, I do remember that one—when everyone was looking for, how did you say it,

“God‟s greatest gift to the world.” They were all looking for a surprising image of

Jesus—especially that little boy you stood right in front of the canvas. He was sure

surprised when you ripped the canvas open.

K: (energized) God‟s greatest gift to the world—“Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Ephesians

1:27, NIV). So, back to what I was saying, I organized all the specialty images,

including the Plexiglas images, the mirror image, the thematic twelve foot tall images

done for camps, as well as images that I have only done a few times (Appendix D). I

also included the first sketch that I did for a black light painting (Appendix E), and

the image from the very first Paint Talks performance—the chalk talk (Appendix G).

Do you want to see how accurately you interpret the rest of the images?

B: Babe, actually, I think that you should get to work. (pause) I guess you are just going

to sketch your image on the canvas and start painting?

K: Well, let me ask you something else, real quick. (pause) Do you think it is right for me to

use these images to persuade an audience?

B: I don‟t know. (pause) I‟ve never asked that question before.

K: Well, start with this—do you think it is possible to do more than speak through an

image? Do you think it is possible for an image to make an argument?

B: I think it is more complex, but I do think it‟s possible.

* * *

THE IMAGE IS ARGUMENTATIVE

If the visual is truly worthy of intense study, one study might begin by asking the

question, “Can the image create an argument?” Two primary arguments in opposition to the


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question are that “…the visual is inescapably ambiguous or vague” (Blair, 2004, p. 46), and

that the visual does not have “propositional content” (p. 46). However, Blair refutes both of

these claims asserting that the equivocation of language is often just as murky as that of the

visual, and history proves that visual propositions have been made. He believes certain

images “…can be considered a reason for accepting or believing some proposition, for

taking some other attitude or for performing some action” (Blair, 2004, p. 49). The author

reveals that while visual arguments are often minimal and one sided, sometimes the graphic

nature of the visual speaks in a way that the verbal cannot. Visual images often existing

longer than oral expressions are more efficient to understand, and evoke involuntary

reactions. Due to the ambiguous nature of the visual, however, the author does challenge

the person making a visual argument to “…be particularly astute in reading the audience”

(Blair, 2004, p. 52). Someone trying to create an argument through the visual must pay extra

close attention to the possible ambiguity of an image.

* * *

K: Here is the deal. I also believe that the image, when masterfully crafted, can create an

argument—a persuasive argument. I think that it can cause people to take time to

consider their options, as with a verbal argument, and challenge them to make a solid

decision—but, (pause) I also believe that because of the deep emotional connection

between persuasion and the image, a visual can lead a viewer to make an un-

intelligent, purely emotional decision.

B: What do you mean?

K: I guess (pause)—I just wonder if it is okay for me to try and persuade people to

believe in and respond to Jesus through an image. If a person responds to the


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Gospel after seeing one of my paintings, are they responding with a healthy balance

of mind and heart, or are they simply riding on emotion? We both know that if they

are simply making an emotional response, it is probably not a lasting change.

* * *

THE IMAGE IS PERSUASIVE

Another study might ask, “How does the image persuade?” Hill (2004) argues that the

visual impacts the viewer rhetorically by two means: presence and vividness. Presence is

defined as the “…extent to which an object or concept is foremost in the consciousness of

the audience members” (Hill, 2004, p. 28). Visuals such as photographs can achieve a

greater sense of presence than words, and “…elements with enhanced presence will have a

greater influence over the audience‟s attitudes and beliefs” (Hill, 2004, p. 28). A

representation of an actual being or artifact increases the reality that the actual subject or

object exists. Vividness is defined as “[the] relationship between the creation of mental

images through reading text and the process of developing or revising one‟s beliefs and

attitudes based on these mental images” (Hill, 2004, p. 31). The following images are listed

from most to least vivid: “actual experience, moving images with sound, static photograph,

realistic painting, line drawing, narrative, descriptive account, abstract, impersonal analysis,

[and] statistics” (Hill, 2004, p. 31, commas added). The more vivid the communication style,

the more emotion it evokes, and, the more persuasive power it holds.

* * *

B: Kent, I don‟t think you can ever judge that—

K: (interrupting) Oh, no, I don‟t either—well, I guess I just did. I just wonder. I just

feel very responsible.


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B: I think the best thing you can do is use your gift to the best of your ability, and stop

overanalyzing.

(pause)

B: Okay, enough deep thoughts for an afternoon at Grandma‟s for me. I‟ll be in the

house finding more “key pieces” if you need me.

* * *

ICEBREAKER

Conversation concerning the power of the image is complex.

Conversation concerning the deep emotion and wide history of developing Paint

Talks images is even more layered. However, these are necessary conversations as I search

to discover the response to the question Am I being true to myself as an artist and as a Christian

through Paint Talks? The feeling that I get in my stomach when telling someone about what

goes into creating a Paint Talks image is the same bewildering blend of excitement and

impossibility that I feel when trying to learn the names, hometowns, and interests of a room

full of brand new Public Speaking students on the first day of class. I am more than excited

by the task—but I realize it is almost impossible to accomplish in one conversation.

However, the least that I can do as an instructor, or in this case, an autoethnographer, is get

people talking. Typically on the first day of class I will use a variety of icebreakers. If I can

simply get my students thinking and talking, then I have a better chance of coming to know

them, and they have a better chance to know about me and to know about each other.

So—we are going to do a quick icebreaker (please do not moan, you are not a

freshman anymore). If I say the word “icebreaker,” what is the first image that comes to

your mind? A room full of students? An ice pick? The image of Ralph Macchio in Karate


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Kid II (Weintraub & Avildsen, 1986) as he thrusts his hand through six blocks of ice to

shame his opponent (probably not)? Often when a person hears a word, their mind

automatically creates an image. In the following account, every time you see the word

Imagine, it will be followed with a word or series of words in bold face type. Read the

word(s) that follow Imagine, and note the first image that comes to your mind. Just like any

icebreaker, this will not take long.

* * *

IMAGINE…SUPERHERO

The drawer is partially covered with faded, chipping paint. It creeks as I pull it from

its resting place. My eyes search the contents of the wooden box. I am looking for a pencil.

Instead, my eyes freeze on a small, plastic figurine. “No Way!”—I am amazed by what I see.

Reaching into the drawer with both hands I remove the small body from its coff in, and dust

off the arms, legs, and finally, the chest. “Superman.”

The misplaced (but far from forgotten) toy transports me to a time when I was five,

and my older brother was eight. Avid superhero fans, we regularly watched two cartoon

series—Superfriends (Hanna-Barbera, 1973) and Spiderman and His Amazing Friends (Marks,

1981). We bought superhero toys and we wore superhero costumes (Underoo underwear

and t-shirts made to look like superhero uniforms)—my brother was always Spiderman, and

I was always Superman.

IMAGINE…HALLOWEEN

One Halloween, I pleaded with my mom and Grandma to complete the actual

Superman image. My mom provided the blue leotards, and my grandma made me a great

Superman cape. However, when it came to the red boots, all I was given was red socks. I


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was frustrated—this did not match the image I had of Superman EXACTLY (a preview of

my battle with perfectionism)! I have a vivid memory of running into the living room to

show off my costume—only, without the red socks. I had rolled them up and stuffed them

down the front of my underwear. I challenged my Grandma to tell me where I had hidden

my socks, and somehow she guessed

—and somehow she could not stop laughing.

IMAGINE…FACE OR VASE?

Digging deeper I do find a pencil, but I am still thinking about the plastic figure that

now rests on top of the shop drawers. The earliest image that I can remember drawing is

the image of the Superman logo (Figure 7). I now realize that I always drew the image

wrong. As a child, when I looked at the logo, I never saw the “S.” I know this because I

remember memorizing that there were five yellow marks on the red image…instead of one

“S” on the yellow background, all I saw was the negative space.

Figure 7. Superman Logo, DC Comics (n.d.), (Superman Logo, 2003).

I never knew if this meant I was slower than the average child learning the alphabet,

or faster than the average artist in seeing negative space?

IMAGINE…RIGHT BRAIN V. LEFT BRAIN

I admire engineers because they see something I cannot—numbers.


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During the time that I spent in Charlotte, North Carolina interning with the graphic

design firm, I lived with a friend‟s family—the father was a nuclear engineer. One evening I

foolishly asked him to explain the process of creating nuclear energy, to me. He stared at me

in silence for several seconds. I smile as I think about what must have been going through his mind

during those quiet moments. Realizing that it was the only hope for explaining the left brained

process to a right brained person, he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began drawing

an image. It is no surprise to me that I remember very little about the details of converting

nuclear power to energy, however, I do not know if that was because I could not follow the math, or

because the engineer could not draw.

IMAGINE…BEETHOVEN

I am sure that if I would have asked my nuclear engineer friend to explain to me how

he understands numbers he would have said (in less words), math comes naturally to me. In the

movie Good Will Hunting (Bender & Van Sant, 1997), Will (Matt Damon) plays the role of a

brilliant mathematician. When his girlfriend Skylar (Minnie Driver) asks him to explain his

ability, the ensuing dialogue is fascinating:

Will: Beethoven, okay. He looked at a piano, and it just made sense to him. He could

just play.

Skylar: So what are you saying? You play the piano?

Will: No, not a lick. I mean, I look at a piano, I see a bunch of keys, three pedals, and

a box of wood. But Beethoven, Mozart, they saw it, they could just play. I

couldn't paint you a picture, I probably can't hit the ball out of Fenway, and I

can't play the piano.

Skylar: But you can do my o-chem paper in under an hour.


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Will: Right. Well, I mean when it came to stuff like that... I could always just play.

I do not relate to the level of Will‟s ability in this movie—I am not even in the same ballpark

(speaking of baseball) as Michelangelo or Leonardo Di Vinci. But, concerning visual arts, I

could always just play.

* * *

Thank you for participating. Now, open your books to page…just kidding. From this point

on, I will use the word art to represent the visual arts. However, please note that it is often

entirely possible to interchange a variety of artistic practices when discussing the role of the

arts, or the artist, in a fundamentalist Christian church.

* * *

A SECULAR VIEW OF THE ARTS

I could always just play. Pride is not present in this statement. I realize that I did

nothing to gain or earn artistic understanding. Sure—just as an engineer has to practice

math, I have practiced and sharpened the skill. However, the original sense or

understanding, I believe, is a gift—it is my lot.

However, I am often burdened by the lot that I have been given. Sometimes I feel

out of place, like a plastic toy in a drawer full of painting supplies.

Where do the arts fit into our world—are they a human need? Maslow‟s Hierarchy of Needs,

accepted widely in the field of Communication Studies, classifies human needs into five

groups and then orders them from greatest to least: 1)physiological, 2)safety, 3)social, 4)self-

esteem, and 5)self actualization (O‟hair, Stewart & Reubenstein, 2006, p.355). Naturally,

mankind greatly values and greatly rewards work that effectively and efficiently contributes

to basic human needs. Many times, these contributions are made by members of


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professions rooted in math and science—a nuclear engineer that produces energy that

provides light and warmth, for instance. In the definitions of Maslow‟s hierarchy of needs,

however, creativity is placed in the fifth and final category of self actualization, grouped with

“morality, spontaneity, problem solving, lack of prejudice, [and] acceptance of facts”

(“Maslow‟s Hierarchy of Needs,” 2007). Maslow claims that it is a human need to create,

however, it is not nearly as necessary to human survival as physiological needs, safety,

belonging, or self esteem. Many of the leaders of fundamentalist Christian churches that I

have attended would agree; many artists that I know would not.

* * *

A FUNDAMENTALIST VIEW OF THE ARTS

I look around the room and try to see objects as revealed by their negative space. A

ball looks like a hole. A vase looks like two faces pointed towards each other. As my eyes

wander across familiar objects, choosing to see them differently, I cannot help but make the

obvious connection—“Most of the fundamentalist Christian churches that I have attended focus on the

negative space of the arts—they tend to choose to only see the negative.”

I shake my head.

I get frustrated with a Church or with an individual Christian when they immediately

discard art because it is less than pious. Rarely, have I seen a fundamentalist Christian view a

piece of controversial modern art, and appreciate its deeper meaning. It seems the choice is

often made to be primarily offended, to steer clear of the work, and to spread poisonous

comments.

I continue to shake my head.


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I get frustrated with a Church, or with an individual Christian, when they seem to

interpret Romans 14:13 (NIV), “Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block

or obstacle in your brother's way,” as a command to pander to people of weaker faith.

I have been shaking my head for a while now.

There is no doubt that the easiest thing to do would be to ignore the arts all

together—and that seems too often to be the path that fundamentalist churches take.

However, if art is truly a gift from God, then ignoring the arts is ignoring God.

Focusing on a small wrapped box in a corner of the barn used for storing Christmas

items, I wonder, “Is art truly a gift?”

* * *

A BIBLICAL VIEW OF THE ARTS

The Bible reveals the arts, even more, human creativity, as a trait of people who are

created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). The author of Exodus reveals a detailed

description concerning a time when God empowered two men with artistic skill:

Then the LORD said to Moses, “See, I have chosen Bezalel son of Uri, the son of

Hur, of the tribe of Judah, and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill,

ability and knowledge in all kinds of crafts- to make artistic designs for work in gold,

silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds

of craftsmanship. Moreover, I have appointed Oholiab son of Ahisamach, of the

tribe of Dan, to help him. Also I have given skill to all the craftsmen to make

everything I have commanded you: the Tent of Meeting, the ark of the Testimony

with the atonement cover on it, and all the other furnishings of the tent- the table

and its articles, the pure gold lampstand and all its accessories, the altar of incense,


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the altar of burnt offering and all its utensils, the basin with its stand- and also the

woven garments, both the sacred garments for Aaron the priest and the garments for

his sons when they serve as priests, and the anointing oil and fragrant incense for the

Holy Place. They are to make them just as I commanded you. (Exodus 31:1-11,

NIV)

Phillip Ryken uses the passage to support four principles that he believes Christian

artists need to recognize and follow: “(1) the artist‟s call and gift come from God; (2) God

loves all kinds of art; (3) God maintains high standards for goodness, truth, and beauty; and

(4) art is for the glory of God” (p. 18). According to Ryken, art is a gift and its purpose is

for glorifying God.

Going even deeper, the theologian Francis A. Schaeffer (1982) interprets the arts as

being part of the “whole man” (p. 376) which is under the Lordship of Christ:

As evangelical Christians, we have tended to relegate art to the very fringe of life.

The rest of human life we feel is more important. Despite our constant talk about

the Lordship of Christ, we have narrowed its scope to a very small area of reality.

We have misunderstood the concept of the Lordship of Christ over the whole of

man and the whole of the universe and have not taken to us the riches that the Bible

gives us for ourselves, for our lives, and for our culture (p. 375)

According to Schaeffer (1982), the arts are not only under the Lordship of Christ,

but they are the embodiment of man embracing the “riches” (p. 375) that God offers

humanity. From this idea, it is possible to assume that when the arts are rejected—humanity

is incomplete. If humanity is incomplete without the arts—what then might be said about the church, a

body of people?


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* * *

A PERSONAL VIEW OF THE ARTS

I look around the room and try to see objects only as revealed by their negative

space. A ball looks like a hole. A vase looks like two faces pointed towards each other.

(hopefully this sounds familiar) As my eyes wander across familiar objects, choosing to see them

differently, I cannot help but make the obvious connection. “Many times I have focused on the

negative space of the arts—many times I see them as negative.”

I shake my head.

I get frustrated with a Church or with an individual Christian when they immediately

discard art because it is less than pious. But, I also get frustrated with myself, because I am a

hypocrite in this matter. Sometimes I have thick skin, and can view a piece of controversial modern art, and

appreciate the truth that it reveals. However, sometimes I allow myself to be primarily offended—I become

the one who steers clear, or spreads pious poison with my comments.

I continue to shake my head.

I get frustrated with a Church or with an individual Christian when they seem to

interpret Romans 14:13 (NIV), “Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block

or obstacle in your brother's way,” as a command to pander to people of weaker faith.

However, I am also challenged by the idea of selflessness in the verse, and I recognize the reality that the

visual arts do have the power to elicit lust or pride from within me. I realize that by encouraging all types of

visual art, without boundaries, could create an honest stumbling block for another Christian—or for me.

The balance here is difficult.

I have been shaking my head for a while now.


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There is no doubt that the easiest thing to do would be to ignore the arts all together.

Sometimes I feel that the Churches I attend ignore the visual arts. But sometimes I am the one

that does the ignoring.

However, I am convinced that there are too many riches in this work to continue

living hypocritically. If art is truly a gift from God, ignoring the arts would be refusing God.

Focusing on a small wrapped box in a corner of the barn used for storing Christmas

items, I wonder, “Is art truly a gift?”

* * *

A CHALLENGING VIEW OF THE ARTS

I used to believe that the only way to view the arts was as a gift from God—that is

until I read Andreas Andreopoulos, author of Art as Theology (2006):

According to an early source of Judeo-Christian history, the origin of art can

somehow be related causally to the Fall of the angels. The dissident angels, led by

Samiazaz, taught the arts and the sciences to the human race, a story that may

correspond to the account of the descent of the “sons of God” into humanity, in

Genesis 6. It was because of those actions of theirs that they were expelled from

Paradise and subsequently became known as the fallen angels. Art then, according to

this version, was either an invention of Satan (although we do not have any proof for

this argument, as those angels were at the side of God when they taught the arts to

the people), or a present from God, something to make life on Earth easier after the

expulsion from paradise. (p. 7)

Is it possible that the human arts are a satanic device?


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As a believer in the supremacy of the Canon (The Bible) which affirms the arts

(many types of art), a believer in the man being a creator even before fall (Adam and Eve are

to tend the Garden in Genesis 2), and as a believer that creativity is part of being created in

the image of the Creator, I personally do not believe so. Regardless, the balance between the

holy church and the arts is difficult—even for the Christian artist. Franky Schaeffer, Francis

A. Schaeffer‟s son and a Christian artist, gives a definition of art that offers understanding as

to why the arts are often difficult to accept:

The arts ask hard questions. Art incinerates polyester/velvet dreams of inner

healing and cheap grace. Art hurts, slaps, and defines. Art is interested in truth: in

bad words spoken by bad people, in good words spoken by good people, in sin and

goodness, in life, sex, birth, color, texture, death, love, hate, nature, man, religion,

music, God, fire, water, and air. Art tears down, builds up, and redefines. Art is

uncomfortable. Good art (which, among other things, means truth-telling art) is

good in itself, even when it is about bad things.

Good art expresses an interest in everything. Art, like the Bible, is not

defined by one period of history. Art explores immorality and immortality. There

are no taboo subjects for good art, any more than there is taboo news for

newspapers, because art is unafraid of the truth. Art, like Christ, comes to sinners in

an imperfect world. People who imagine themselves to be perfect do not like art.

The middle-class church, living in a cocoon of false expectations, resents people who

wield sharp razor blades or worse, disturb their sleep. Art is fleshly yet eternal. Art

is human. Art is a mirror to the world. Art is the bridge between flesh and soul.


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“Art is science in the flesh,” as Jean Cocteau wrote in Le Rappel a l‟Ordre.

(Schaeffer, 1990, p. 8)

Why are the arts often absent from, or at the least, why is the artist not greatly

encouraged in the fundamentalist Christian Church? I do not know exactly. I am a member

of a church that fears, and I often fear, the reality that the image can be used for evil. But, I

know that the easiest thing for me (and, perhaps the Church, or for individual Christians) to

do, is not struggle through the complexity of life that a piece of art brings to the surface. It is

easier to ignore the arts altogether.

Because of Paint Talks, and because of this study, I realize now more than ever, that if

my (or any other person‟s) goal for ignoring the arts is piety, I (they) will not reach this goal.

I believe that when God entrusts a person with a gift, He requires them to use it. Again, He

does not require human perfection—but he expects humans to try (Matthew 25, NIV).

Rather, I have come to believe the following:

Ignoring the arts is ignoring God‟s gift.

Ignoring the arts is silencing truth.

Ignoring the arts allows humanity to exist incomplete.

* * *

“Kent, right now you need to get to work.” I realize that I need to refocus and begin

tracing the image of today‟s painting on the canvas. Typically, I would actually sketch an

image, create a transparency, and project the image onto the blank white canvas. However,

because the purpose of today‟s work involves painting an image that I have painted before, I

simply need to locate the correct transparency and set up the projector. Holding the pencil,

I walk to a stack of painting supplies in the center of the barn floor.


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“Where is my overhead?”

“It‟s not here?”

I am frustrated. “Everything was going so smoothly—so perfectly.”

My first instinct is to blame someone else. “Why didn‟t Brynn remind me to get the

projector.”

I quickly remember that usually at the very same time that I selfishly blame my wife

for doing or not doing something, she is actually in the process of performing an act that is

self sacrificial. For instance, I will blame her for the house being dirty. At the same time,

she is resting after working for money that helps pay for the house. Or, I will be upset when

I see an expensive clothes receipt. At the same time, she is starting to pull clothes out of a

bag that she bought for me. Or…I‟ll stop there. It is difficult to effectively blame someone

when all they do is think of others—or, when all they do is think of me.

I start to look for someone else to blame, but I know deep down that this glitch is

my fault. “Be true.”

Forgetting a projector is far from the biggest glitch that I have experienced with a

Paint Talks performance. Actually, I have come to expect at least one major glitch in each

performance. However, I tend to think that Paint Talks is an inspired work simply because

regardless what obstacle arises, the performance always works out. On a side note, it is

overwhelming when I consider the reality of God, and how he always works things out in my life.

Thinking on God‟s activity in my life removes my concern. I am not worried. I

believe I will find a projector, or perhaps (for an unknown reason) I will not even need one.

I decide to go back into the house and see if Grandpa can help me.


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* * *

Figure 8. The Haywain, John Constable (1821), (The Haywain, n.d.).

BEING TRUE TO THE ARTIST

K: Grandpa, where did you get this image?

I am standing in the living room looking a golden framed print of John Constable‟s 1821 painting

entitled The Haywain (Figure 8).

In moments like these, I am tempted to sign up for an art history course. I desire to

know the true meaning behind John Constable‟s painting, as well as other pieces of fine art.

“What is the history behind this image?,” I wonder. “Is this an actual event or does it represent the

artist‟s impression of a certain type of life? What type of work are the people in the picture performing? Why

are women absent from the image? What does this image say about the farm life? Why do I feel at home in

this picture? Did the artist paint the image outside, in the heat of the day?” I have always thought that

it would be an incredible experience to paint an image in the wide open—to be a part of the

picture you are painting.

GP: Oh, Grandma bought that a long time ago—


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GM: —Kent (Grandma‟s voice rings out from the kitchen) I bought that print when we

first moved into this house. I saw the image in a book and told Grandpa‟s brother

to buy it for me if he could find it on a trip to New York.

I stare at the historical image.

How does a person interpret a piece of art?

How does a person judge art as good or bad?

* * *

How does a person interpret a piece of art? I often feel that watching people interpret

modern art is a bit like Hans Christian Andersen‟s fairy tale The Emperor‟s New Clothes

(Andersen, Lucas, Paull & Szyk, 1945)—people act like they see something deep, but the king

has nothing on. However, I realize that I often do not see the meaning of a piece of art because

I approach the work without an understanding of the history of the image, the artist, or the

period in which it was constructed. As stated previously—art, even modern art, reveals truth.

Even more, Francis Schaeffer (1977) states that there is a flow through history and culture—

artists reflect their culture, and many times predict the philosophy of the upcoming culture.

Marguerite Helmers (2004) claims that understanding the meaning behind an image

begins with realizing that “[looking] is always framed by past experiences and learned ideas

about how and what to see. „Just looking‟ is never innocent, nor is it ever final” (p. 65). To

understand an image, Helmers claims that a person must look beyond their personal bias.

Actually, she claims that a viewer should understand the interplay of three elements: the

spectator, the space of viewing, and the object that is viewed (Helmers, 2004, p. 65). History

impacts the interpretation of historical paintings, but often “…in trying to recover the past,

we produce misreadings because we infuse the past with our desires” (Helmers, 2004, p. 66).


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Speaking to the historical and contemporary implications of fine art, Helmers (2004)

states the following:

Interpretation is a process of accrual in which past experiences merge with the

evidence of the canvas to construct a meaning. Nonetheless, that meaning will

change over time as the memory of the viewing event is recalled and the image is

revisited in different settings. (2004, p. 84)

Helmers supports the idea that visual images hold historical (diachronic) and contemporary

(synchronic) meaning.

* * *

How does a person judge a piece of art as good or bad? Francis A. Schaeffer (1982) claims

that there are four basic standards: “(1) technical excellence; (2) validity; (3) intellectual content, the

word-view which comes through; and (4) the integration of content and vehicle” (p. 399). First, Technical

excellence, involves the artist‟s use of “…color, form, the texture of the paint, the handling of

lines, the balance, composition and unity of the painting, and so forth” (Schaeffer, 1982, p.

399). At this point, Schaeffer (1982) claims that “We are not being true to the artist as a man

if we consider his art work junk simply because we differ with his outlook on life” (p. 399).

Second, validity is defined as whether or not an artist is being “honest to himself and to his

world-view, or whether he makes his art only for money or for the sake of being accepted”

(Schaeffer, 1982, p. 399). Third, content, is the worldview that is reflected in the work. As

stated in the second chapter, from a Christian perspective, Schaeffer claims that “The artist‟s

world-view is not to be free from the judgment of the Word of God.” (p. 400). Fourth, and

finally, the integration of content and vehicle refers to the correlation between “style and content”

(Schaeffer, 1982, p. 402).


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Francis A. Schaeffer believes that art can be judged as good or bad by the previous

four criterions. However, judgment of art from a Christian perspective will place greater

emphasis on the third element—content. A Christian worldview is rooted in the belief that

the meaning of life begins with God, and not man. This belief in God as the Creator informs

all other understanding, including the interpretation of art. Schaeffer reveals that He

believes that good art is art that coincides with Christian Scripture. However, the author

does not mean that all good art depicts Biblical scenes or incorporates blatant religious

imagery. However, he does mean that good art, from a Christian perspective, places nature,

human beings, and God in proper relationship to each other. The idea is beautifully

exemplified in Van Eyck‟s c. 1422-1441 painting entitled Adoration of the Lamb (Figure 9), as a

diverse group of human beings, heavenly beings, and nature are all in obvious subordination

to the Lamb, a symbol of Jesus—God in the flesh.

Figure 9. The Adoration of the Lamb, Jan van Eyck (c. 1422-1441), (Adoration of the Lamb, n.d.).


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* * *

I continue to stare at the image.

The painting is famous, and it is good by the standards of Francis A. Schaeffer—but I

know that is not the reason my Grandma bought it.

I know that my grandma bought this print, first, because it is beautiful. The moment

captured by John Constable in 1821 reveals a deep blue sky full of multicolored rain clouds

floating above towering dark oak trees. Both the clouds and the trees cast shadows of the

noon day sun onto the lush green prairie. A broad and shallow river flows smoothly beside

an old barn, turning a water wheel.

I also know Grandma bought it because it is an image of hard work. The painting

captures three men diligently working to guide four strong black horses, pulling a heavy

wooden cart (a haywain), upstream. I imagine that when my Grandma looks at this image, it

reminds her of the blood, sweat, and tears that she and grandpa have invested into building

their farm, their home, their family, and their church.

K: Grandpa, just a moment ago I realized that I forgot to bring my overhead

projector—the one that I use to project my outline on the canvas. Do you know if

the Church has one that I may borrow?

GP: Yes, I think we do. I‟m pretty sure there is one in the adult classroom. I‟ll take you

to the building to pick it up.

I am always moved by the selflessness of my grandpa. He always seems willing to drop anything and

everything in order to help me.

K: Well, I was thinking that I might stay up at the building for a while. It seems like a

good place to reflect on my project.


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GP: Okay, well, why don‟t I give you the key to the building. Just make sure that you

lock it when you leave.

K: Thank you.

I take the key, and take one last glance at the wonderfully mysterious painting as I

walk away. My heart is heavy, because I know that for some time I have questioned the

artistic quality of the images of Paint Talks.

“Am I being true to myself as an artist?”

“Are my paintings art, craft, or kitsch?”

* * *

According to Andreas Andreopoulos (2006), there is a difference between the terms

art proper, craft, and kitsch—from first to last, the author recognizes a sort of a degradation of

the artist‟s soul. He claims that art proper is “the kind of art the artist/ creates for the sake of

his own soul” (p. 125-126). It is when the artist “…struggles with the unspoken”

(Andreopoulos, 2006, p. 126). The author defines craft as “art from a left-brain perspective”

(Andreopoulos, 2006, p. 126) that “includes everything we can ever know about art, in terms

of verbal information” (Andreopoulos, 2006, p. 126). Finally, Andreopoulos defines kitsch as

“a degeneration of art” (p. 119). Kitsch is an imitation, not of a process, but of an effect of a

process, and “…one of the major defining characteristics…is the katachresis of overexposed

symbols, i.e. the use of images heavily charged with cultural and artistic memories, which can

thus be exploited in a more marketable form” (Andreopoulos, 2006, p. 119).

Franky Schaeffer (1990) sadly claims that kitsch is “…too often evangelical-

fundamentalist trademark. A stranger to our culture might be pardoned if he assumed that


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bad taste was the distinguishing mark of the evangelical and fundamentalist Christian” (p.

189). For quite some time I have wondered if Paint Talks might simply be considered kitsch.

* * *

I turn the key of the old Red Chevy Tahoe. Then, I click the record button on the voice recorder.

K: So far, it has been a great day. The morning was very productive, and thought

provoking.

First, I speak into the small digital device about the day‟s events, and the challenging thoughts that I have

processed concerning autoethnography, perfectionism, and legalism. Next, I begin verbally brainstorming

ideas concerning the Paint Talks image.

K: Other than forgetting my projector, which I am about to go to the church building

to borrow, everything has gone very well. However, I did just encounter a major

question that I often ask about Paint Talks—Is Paint Talks art, craft, or kitsch? I came

to the question after looking, with Brynn, through a variety of Paint Talks images,

and after seeing Grandma and Grandpa‟s framed print of John Constable‟s 1821

painting entitled The Haywain. It is such a beautiful picture. Honestly, I feel guilty

because of the dramatic difference between that painting and the typical Paint Talks

image.

I pull out of the driveway and proceed towards the center of the small farm town.

K: I think that it is important to remember, however, that not long after I began

performance painting, I realized that Paint Talks would always produce images that

are very different from the paintings that I typically create. I quickly realized that

constructing large murals in short time frames would compromise the detail and

accuracy of the final painting. I knew that Paint Talks images would probably not


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turn the head of the artist—and possibly not even the engineer. Knowing these

differences, however, knowing this compromise, I gladly pursued Paint Talks for the

message that might be proclaimed.

(pause)

(energized) But, I think that it is also important to remember that while Paint Talks

images are not as realistic as paintings that I have days to brood over, they are

beautiful in their own right. And, the process is beautiful, too. Paint Talks has

allowed me to discover a unique style of art—a speed painting—that can incorporate

all the elements of good art.

(pause)

(solemnly) But, do I always produce good art? No. Sometimes it is kitsch—not

necessarily because of the final image, but because of my heart. Sometimes, my heart

is not right when I paint. Sometimes, I paint as if I have a strong faith even when my

faith is actually very weak. Sometimes, when I am given a tremendous opportunity

to paint a challenging message, I get lazy or I get scared, and I simply paint

something that I have done before—something safe. And, sadly, sometimes I simply

paint—for the money.

(pause)

(energized) But, sometimes, Paint Talks is very much real art. Sometimes, it is a true

expression of my soul. Sometimes, money is the last thing on my mind. Sometimes,

I push past my tiredness. Sometimes, I disregard safety. Honestly, I believe that the

primary difference between a Paint Talks performance being art or being kitsch…has

to do with the heart.


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(pause)

(solemnly) However, as I think about the components of a work that is kitsch, I am

challenged to consider how Paint Talks overuses Christian symbols. I typically paint

religious images—gardens, lighthouses, crosses…Jesus—but I know that these are

not the only images that might plant a seed of belief of the unbeliever, or lead a

Christian to a deeper faith. Deep down, I know that other powerful images exist.

Even though I have never found an image that evokes immediate emotion like that of

the cross, I feel that it is worth exploring the use of images that possibly evoke less

(immediate) emotion, but catalyze long term critical thinking—images that make

people ask, and chew on, hard questions.

* * *

“Hell Has No Fire Escapes”—I quickly bring my vehicle back under the speed limit as

I read the message on the old Church of Christ road sign. When I imagine the typical

fundamentalist-evangelical church building, I think about function instead of beauty—a small,

rectangular building with double doors on one end, three windows down each side, a pitched

roof, and a steeple. My grandparent‟s church is fairly different from this exact image, but it

is still very modest in shape, size, and style. It is very functional.

Seeing the building reminds me of black and white memories from childhood—but,

not because I lived before color TV existed. In my mind‟s eye, I can still see White

gentlemen in black suits chivalrously holding the front doors open for their wives and

children. And, I remember a particular White gentleman in a black suit preaching to a White

West Texas audience about the fundamentals of Christian doctrine. I recall sermons


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concerning the differences between good and bad, life and death, and Heaven and Hell.

And, I especially remember how all the rules

—were black and white.

* * *

There is only enough ambient light to see halfway down the hall. Being alone in a

dark church building has been a fear of mine since childhood, so I quickly find the light

switch. As the fluorescent bulbs flicker to an awkward off-white glow, I slowly begin to see

a stale white corridor with brown paneling and tan carpet. Other than a few random colors

contained by two bulletin boards, everything is drab.

I walk to the first of the two framed cork boards. A border made of a faded red

cardboard runs along the inside edge of the wooden frame. Several small items are pinned

to the cork: a white Church bulletin from the previous week, a pink page announcing a

Gospel meeting in a nearby farm town, three thank you notes written on flower covered

stationary, and a bright red poster with a yellow smiley face that reads, “Smile, Jesus Loves

You!”

I walk to the second board. There is no border around the frame, just an arched line

of blue bubble letters reading, “Jesus Loves Me.” Under the letters are twelve or so oval

photographs of children—each appears to be four or five years old.

The boards and decorations are not beautiful, however, they are functional.

Just beyond the second board, I enter the doorway of the adult classroom and turn

on the light—“No overhead?” Thinking that it cannot be difficult to find anything in this

small building, I head back down the hall and take the first right possible. In a matter of

moments, I am standing in the main auditorium.


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The projector is sitting on a piece of plywood that stretches across the top of two

wooden pews. It faces a large white wall. Walking towards the old, but functional, piece of

equipment, I look around the room. I think about how the typical Communication Studies

scholar would use the term Whiteness to describe the typical West Texas fundamentalist

Christian church audience. However, when I think of Whiteness and fundamentalist Christian

churches, I think about the big, bare, white walls of this auditorium.

Lonely canvases.

There are absolutely no images on the auditorium walls. The only color in the room comes from

green tinted windows (tinted with color to block the sunlight), plastic greenery, and a bundle

of fake flowers hanging from the large, bare wall above the baptistery.

* * *

BEING TRUE TO THE CHRISTIAN

Sitting alone in the colorless auditorium, I ponder the colorful role of art in church

history. Suddenly, my phone rings—it is Phillip.

K: Hello?

P: Friend, I‟m finally in a place where I can talk. What are you doing?

K: (pause) Well, after your early morning phone call, I am a little tired—

P: Ha!

K: But, right now I am actually sitting by myself in the middle of a church auditorium.

P: What? I thought that you were scared of being alone in church buildings?

K: I am surprised that you remembered!


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* * *

The night before a Paint Talks performance in Naperville, Illinois, I was applying the

black light image of Jesus on the cross to a newly stretched canvas. I was all alone in a well

lit church auditorium, and I was having trouble seeing the black light paint—the white lights

were diffusing my black light. So, I decided to turn off the lights in the auditorium to finish

the image. As I painted the figure of a man, dying on a cross, in glowing in blue paint—I

began feeling like I was not alone.

It felt like the image was alive.

Even more, I felt like the image was looking at me.

I left—quickly.

The event still haunts me when I am alone in church auditoriums.

* * *

K: Well, as I mentioned this morning, I am working on my thesis this weekend at my

Grandparents house.

P: Right, how is it going?

K: Things have been going well. We built the canvas before lunch—Grandpa helped.

After lunch, just when I was about to start drawing and painting on the canvas, I

realized that I forgot my projector. So, I came to the church to borrow theirs. I am

little behind schedule, but the detour has given me time to think. This afternoon I

have been pondering and journaling about the development of a Paint Talks image. I

have been thinking about how the visual arts have always been natural to me, and

how I have always considered them to be a gift from God—a tool for proclaiming


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truth. However, I have also been asking difficult questions like, Is it okay to persuade

people through Paint Talks? and Does Paint Talks count as good art?

P: That is a plate full.

K: Actually, just as you called, I was observing the lack of images in this fundamentalist

Christian church auditorium, and I was beginning to think about the role of the

image in Church history.

P: Oooh, yeah. The iconoclasts baby!

Phillip gets fired up about Church History.

K: I have been doing a lot of reading on the icon. Did you know that the Eastern

Orthodox Church believes that the icon is a divine “mirror” (Andreopoulos, 2006, p.

30)—that it creates a space where the viewer sees a reflection of God? They also

believe that it serves as a reminder to the viewer that God sees them. Iconographers

would actually paint, on the same surface where the icon was to be painted, an image

of a human eye with the word for “God” written below, to symbolize the gaze of

God. As one author says, the “…icon is not only a window to another world,

but...[it is]…a window from another world as well, and the eyes of Christ and the

saints are reminding the believer that he is always subject to the gaze of God”

(Andreopoulos, 2006, p. 26).

P: Will you be adding the eye to your next performance?

Phillip is joking—I think.

K: Well, actually, the concept has made me consider how the work of a Paint Talks

performance resembles the work of an icon. I was talking with my Grandma the

other day when she described Paint Talks in a way that I have never considered.


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Evidently, she enjoys being a part of my paintings because of their collective and

individual meaning. Grandma commented that when I paint the basic acrylic image,

the meaning is collective—the entire group is being impacted by the image, together.

But, when the lights go out, and the final image of Christ appears, the moment takes

on a rich meaning for the individual. I know that my Grandma does not think that

the final image is looking at her. Rather, she is reminded, as an individual, that she is

seen by God. And, I believe in those moments, she becomes highly self-reflexive—

she looks inward.

P: That is interesting.

K: Hey, I know that you are great with Church History. In light of my studies about the

icon, would you mind telling me a little about the iconoclasts?

P: Well, I know that they would not be hosting any of your Paint Talks performances!

Phillip laughs.

P: Sometime you should read the decree of 754.

* * *

What avails, the folly of the painter, who from sinful love of gain depicts that which

should not be not be depicted—that is, with his polluted hands he tries to fashion

that which should only be believed in the heart and confessed with the mouth? He

makes an image and calls it Christ. The name Christ signifies God and Man.

Consequently he has in his foolish mind, in his representation of the created flesh,

depicted thee Godhead which cannot be represented, and thus mingled what should

not be mingled. Thus he is guilty of a double blasphemy—the one in making an


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image of the Godhead, and the other by mingling the Godhead and

manhood…(Van Voorst, 1997, 131).

* * *

P: In short, the primary battle of the iconoclastic controversy took place at the

beginning of the eighth century when Emperor Leo III banned religious images. It

hinged on the meaning of the second commandment.

* * *

You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or

on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or

worship them; for I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children

for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me,

but showing love to a thousand {generations} of those who love me and keep my

commandments. (Exodus 20: 4-6, NIV)

* * *

P: You should read a text by Van Voorst (1997) about the iconoclastic controversy. He

clearly shows how some people, called iconodules, felt that the religious image aided

worship. Others, the iconoclasts, believed that people were actually worshipping the

icon. But, even though the religious image was reinstated by the Empress Theodora

in the ninth century, iconoclasm has never completely gone away. You might also—

Phillip is always recommending books.

P: —check out a book called the Reformation of the Image by Leo Koerner (2004)—he

shows that even though Luther supported the religious image, many of his followers

interpreted the Reformation as a call to iconoclasm. And, as you well know,


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members of the Restoration movement have viewed the religious image with similar

disdain. But, all you need to do to research that is look at the history of the

Churches of Christ, and look through your family photos.

K: No kidding. You know, Phillip, it is interesting. Even though I do not know a

whole lot about the iconoclastic controversy—sometimes my own Restorationist

roots show through, and my thoughts are iconoclastic in nature. I mean, obviously I

paint images of Jesus all the time. But, sometimes, in my heart, I really struggle with

knowing if it is reverent to paint religious images—especially the image of Jesus.

Sometimes I wonder if I am being blasphemous. I wonder if I am being true to myself as a

Christian.

P: Hmmm.

(pause)

Well, Kent, this is just my take, but I always think it is a good idea to consider if the

work we are participating in is reverent. Going to scripture, I interpret the second

command as a command of the heart—that God does not want us worshipping

anyone but him. But, in and of itself, I do not believe that painting an image of

Jesus, who mysteriously was completely God and completely man at the same time,

who walked on this earth entirely as a man, is wrong. As with any work, however, it

comes down to the heart. In painting the image of Christ, are you trying to push

people away from, or bring people near to God? Kent, in painting the image of

Christ, are you actually trying to cause people to worship a painting?

K: Of course, I mean of course not—which one do you want me to answer first? You

make a good point about the role of the heart. And, I agree with your view of the


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second commandment. But, Phillip, what if, even though I am not trying to, what if I

am causing someone to worship an image?

P: Kent—have you ever really felt that someone worshipped the image you created?

K: Actually, there was one time in Tennessee where a young man approached and knelt

before the final black light image of Christ on the cross.

P: That‟s interesting. Has anything like that ever happened again?

K: No, and even in that case it was a setting where the young man might have actually

been approaching the front of the room for a traditional altar call.

P: Kent, I think you worry too much.

K: But, I must confess that sometimes I do not have pure intentions with Paint Talks—I

do not perform so that someone will worship an image, but sometimes I do it for

personal pride or power. I guess you could even say that, at times, I have used the

image of Christ to make people praise me.

I cringe.

My pride really gets in the way of this work sometimes.

P: Kent, I believe that you should always ask yourself if the work you are doing is

reverent and from the heart—this goes back to your idea of the mirror. However,

you are human, and you will not always have the perfect attitude in your work. Also,

you do not have the power to control another person‟s actions. You also do not

have the power to see another person‟s heart. Even more, you do have a

responsibility to use your gift in a way that brings glory to God—which I think is

what you are usually doing. (pause) Right?

K: Right.


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(pause)

Thanks, Phillip. I appreciate it.

P: Good questions man. Hey, I wanted to talk to you about next week‟s painting, but I

need to run, again. I‟ll call you in the next day or so to line things out—we‟ll just do

what we did last time, with the final image of Jesus, if that‟s okay with you?

K: (I smile) Yes, that‟s fine.

* * *

Is Paint Talks the image of truth? I do not mean an image of truth in that it

represents a God who is true, or Christ who is true, or a religion that is true—Paint Talks

always represents truth in that way. I mean, as I develop and paint the images of Paint Talks,

am I being true to myself as an artist and as a Christian? The only honest answer—is

sometimes.

Sometimes my heart is in the right place, and a Paint Talks image respectfully speaks a

challenging Christian message. However, sometimes my heart is in the wrong place, and a

Paint Talks image is kitsch and irreverent. Ultimately, whether or not Paint Talks is the image

of truth depends on the heart.


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CHAPTER V

PERFORMING

Why is Paint Talks accepted in fundamentalist Christian churches?

* * *

The difference between the meaning of a Paint Talks image and a Paint Talks

performance is intriguing, to say the least. As shown in the previous chapter, there is a

tremendous amount of deep thought and high emotion involved in almost every part of

developing a Paint Talks image and message. However, physically constructing the image

and physically delivering the message is different—it is very simply hard work. Taking Paint

Talks from an idea to an actuality, from private interaction with God to a public show of

faith, involves intense critical thought and communication. I believe that the gap between a

Paint Talks image and a Paint Talks performance may hold meaning for a question that I have

asked for some time—Why is Paint Talks accepted in fundamentalist Christian churches?

I must state that, for some reason, the word performance seems (to me) to be an

antonym of the word art and of the word Christianity. Obviously, performance is critical in

the art and faith based work of Paint Talks. But, when I think art, I think truth. When I think

Christianity, I think reality. When I think performance, I think of acting—you know, a set, a

script, and a body on a stage. Even though I know it is not a bad word, there is something

that just feels wrong to me about associating my art, or my faith, with the term performance.

Perhaps I have a negative view of the word simply because I believe the purpose of

Paint Talks far outweighs the act. Or, perhaps, subliminally, I simply realize that many times

my art and my faith are sadly—a performance.


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* * *

THE SET

I am from Texas, so I love a specific type of bar-b-q. I believe that the best ribs in

the world exist at Dyer‟s Bar-b-q in Pampa, TX. I highly recommend that anyone traveling

east or west on TX Highway 60 should stop by the small brick building covered in faux

artwork (funny how even a small bar-b-q franchise recognizes the power of the image).

Order the rib plate. Your life will change forever.

Typically, when Brynn and I visit my grandparents‟ home, they take us to Dyer‟s.

Today is no different. Returning from the Church building, I realize that I am a matter of

hours from the delicious ribs. I also realize that I am a matter of hours from performing my

thesis painting.

Turning into the driveway of my grandparents‟ house, I begin thinking about how I

must now turn my thoughts to a most important component of Paint Talks

—the performance.

I carry the overhead projector into the barn and set it across from the canvas—it is

now completely dry. The tight white rectangle greatly contrasts the nearby pile of colorful

Paint Talks supplies: paint splattered brushes, brightly colored sponges, white rags, black

plastic, canvas drop cloths, and a five gallon plastic bucket. Two other items rest beside the

pile—a large, black, plastic case housing a four hundred watt black light, and a long, blue,

partially duct-tape covered snowboard bag full of PVC pipe. “Most people would not realize that

this pile represents seven years of critical thinking. Most people would not appreciate the amount of work

that it takes to set up this performance.”

Grandpa steps into the barn.


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GP: Did you get your projector.

I did not see him, so his voice startles me.

K: Oh…yes. (sarcastically) Did Grandma get that puzzle finished?

GP: (smiling) No, I don‟t think so. (pause) Do you think you‟ll be ready to go to Dyer‟s

in a couple hours.

K: Yes—I simply have to set up my easel, and then I will be ready.

GP: Do you need some help?

K: Yes, thank you. (pause) But, do not want you to get too hot out here.

GP: Ahh, now.

My grandpa is tough.

K: Well, I just need to do everything I typically do to prepare for a performance—the

process has not changed very much since I lived with you and Grandma. As usual, I

first have to put together my PVC pipe, lay it down on the back of the canvas, and

mark and bolt holes on the canvas frame. Next, I need to put down the drop cloths,

pour the paints in the cups, fill up the bucket with water, and set out the brushes,

rags and sponges. Then, I will go ahead and put the outline of my painting on the

canvas—so I can start painting when we get back from dinner.

GP: Do you still use the same easel that you built when you lived with us?

K: Actually, yes I do. The easel is still pretty much the same. But, other parts of the

physical process of a Paint Talks performance have come a long way.

We begin by moving the newly dried canvas.

Constructing the SET of a Paint Talks performance is a physical process refined by…


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* * *

Figure 10. Moving the Canvas, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

...INNOVATIVE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE CANVAS

Where do you buy a six by six, six by eight, eight by eight, or six by twelve foot canvas without

breaking the bank? Well, you do not buy it, you build it (Figure 10). But, even then, canvas is

extremely expensive. Actually, the first preacher that I painted with was also knowledgeable

in the realm of theatre, and he was the one that showed me that I could build canvases in the

same way that a person would build a stage flat (a process I have already described in great

detail). Now, instead of buying a large canvas for five hundred dollars, I can build one for

fifty bucks.

How do you travel with a six by six, six by eight, eight by eight, or six by twelve foot canvas?

Because it is too expensive and takes too much effort to buy or rent (every time) a trailer for

toting around a Paint Talks canvas, I had to develop a way to fit a large canvas inside a

vehicle. I found, after trial and error, that it was possible to split a six by eight foot Paint

Talks canvas frame, and build hinges onto the front of it, before beginning the stretching


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process. A simple mending plate is drilled into the back of the frame to stabilize the hinge,

or is taken off to release the mechanism. The bulge of the hinge can be seen on the canvas,

but it is hard to notice, especially once the primary picture has been painted. If I live close

enough to an event to drive, and have time to build a canvas, I will often build a folding

canvas. Now, it did not take long before I realized that I could not possibly drive to every

Paint Talks performance, nor could I (or did I want to) always build the canvas after I arrived

at an event. Therefore, I quickly developed a blueprint with very specific directions that I

could send, in advance, to churches where I was painting.

A wonderful byproduct of the Paint Talks canvas building process is that artists from

other congregations are able to help construct the canvas and thereby have a sense of

ownership in the painting.

* * *

I am getting tired. Constructing the set of a Paint Talks performance is hard work.

GM: Well, you guys look like you‟re working hard.

Grandpa and I have emptied the big blue bag containing random lengths of PVC pipe and smaller bag of

PVC joints onto the floor of the barn. We are beginning to construct the easel as Grandma and Brynn enter

the barn.

K: Do you all want to help?

GM: (smiling) Well, Kent, I‟ve been working so hard on that puzzle I probably should

simply sit down and supervise.

B: I‟ll help put together the easel.

I‟m always surprised that she likes helping me in this way—it is my least favorite job.

K: Thank you, but if you do not mind, would you please get the camera and take a few


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more photos?

Brynn has already been taking sporadic photos throughout the day.

* * *

Figure 11. The Constructed Easel (face down), photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

…INNOVATIVE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE EASEL

How do you get an eight by six, eight by eight, or even a six by twelve foot canvas to stand upright

on a stage? The first painting I performed was small enough to fit on a normal tripod easel.

The second painting I performed on a makeshift canvas—I simply wrapped a bed sheet

around a freestanding chalkboard. The third painting I performed was suspended from the

ceiling (two volunteers held it stable), and the fourth was mounted on a heavy freestanding

frame made of 2” x 4”‟s. After the process of trial and error, I contacted my father, who

traveled to Lubbock to help me conceive and construct the first true Paint Talks easel (Figure

11). Realizing the possibility that Paint Talks would involve a lot of travel, we tried to think

of a way to keep the easel light, strong, and able to fit in a travel sized case. After

brainstorming several ideas, we eventually settled on building the easel out of 2” PVC pipe.

By using the proper PVC joints, it is possible to build a frame that holds multiple sizes of

canvases and stands (almost completely) on its own. We cut links of PVC that could be

traded in and out to support every size of canvas, as well as links for one set of stage jacks


129

that would keep every frame upright. We also found that the different links needed more

than PVC joints to hold the apparatus together—each connection needed two to three

screws. Therefore, to set up the Paint Talks easel, it is necessary to first, connect the proper

links with the proper joints, and second, fasten the joints with screws.

I have also learned, after setting up and tearing down the easel several hundred times,

that the plastic screw holes eventually wear out. Therefore, periodically, it is necessary to

increase the size of the screws. And, eventually, an easel will wear out—I had to build a

second one a few years back. However, I find it interesting that the Paint Talks easel my

father and I concocted worked so well that when I built the second version, (almost) not

changes were necessary.

* * *


My body is covered with sweat from drilling the PVC pipe together, drilling holes in the canvas, and

connecting the canvas to the plastic apparatus. Grandpa, however, seems to be doing fine, and seems to be in

much better shape than me. I have only seen him wipe his brow with his handkerchief one time.

K: Alright, Grandpa. Are you ready to lift this up? Grandma and Brynn, would you

mind laying out the black plastic and the drop cloths so we can set up the canvas?

Grandma‟s eyebrows rise at the thought of me actually getting paint on the barn‟s shiny floor.

GM: Now, Kent, even if you have something under you, please be careful not to get

anything on the floor.

K: (jokingly ignoring the comment) And…would you possibly be willing to help me

sort and set up the paints?


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* * *

Figure 12. Painting Supplies, photo by Brynn Mereness (2007).

…INNOVATIVE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE ACRYLIC PAINTING

How do you paint a mural in thirty minutes? To paint a large image accurately, an artist

needs to step back. To gain proper perspective during a Paint Talks performance, I really

need to step well away from the stage. However, due to the time constraints of a Paint Talks

performance, the idea is almost an impossibility. Therefore, I find it necessary to have some

sort of outline on the canvas before I begin a Paint Talk.

To accomplish the outline, I first sketch a detailed image of the desired painting, or

of the multiple stages of the desired painting, on paper. Next, I copy, or scan and print the

image to a transparency for an overhead projector. Using the projector, I lightly sketch the

outline of the image on a canvas.

I discovered a couple things in the scale-and-transfer process. First, I realized that if

I paint the black light image over an area with pencil sketching, the paint becomes murky

and it is possible to easily distinguish the black light paint from the white canvas. Because I

typically desire to keep the black light image a secret until the end of the performance, I no

longer sketch an outline of the black light image on the canvas. Rather, I paint the base coat


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of the black light image directly over the projected image. After the black light image dries, I

sketch the outline of the acrylic image or images.

Another thing I discovered about the scale-and-transfer process is that while pencil

lines are difficult to see from an audience—they are visible. And, no matter how hard I try,

it is usually possible to vaguely see the black light image. Therefore, I typically cover the

canvas with a transparent, nine by twelve foot drop cloth, which gives the appearance that

there is nothing on the canvas before the performance. Next, as I take the drop cloth off of

the canvas at the beginning of a painting, I use a sponge to squeeze watered down, red paint

along the top of the canvas. As the red paint flows from top to bottom, any previously

visible lines or paint from the canvas preparation are diffused for the rest of the painting.

How do you paint forty-eight square feet in thirty minutes? The first painting that I

performed was very small, and I used chalks. I have yet to develop the process for using

chalk on a large surface, but in speaking with other performance painters, I have heard that

the chalk dust creates a problem for the audience. I eventually moved on to acrylic paint

(Figure 12)—it is water based and it dries fast. While paint may be less problematic than

chalk, it makes for a very messy process. To cover a large surface with paint in an artistic

manner, I rarely use brushes (typically I only use brushes for detail, or else it takes too long).

Usually I use sponges, rags, and—my hands. I have found that using my hands to paint

brings about a very intimate effect for the painter and for the audience. When I perform a

Paint Talk, I feel that I am painting myself into the picture.

When I first started performing, I used huge canvasses (eight by eight and six by

twelve feet) that required me to use a very tall ladder. So, I had to figure out a way to carry

large amounts of paint to the top of the canvas. For quite some time, I taped miniature


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plastic cups in the bottom of a portable shampoo/body wash shower container, and then

filled the cups with paint. The process worked well, but as I gained experience, and as I

downsized the typical Paint Talks canvas, I began transporting one color at a time. Now, I

try, as much as possible, to paint on canvases that I can completely reach by standing on the

ground, or with a few simple trips up and down a ladder. When I first began painting

predominantly from the ground, I tried pouring my paints directly on a piece of black plastic.

Now, I simply use a large, red, plastic cup for each color of paint.

Painting large canvases has reminded me of the value of watching the paint dry. If an

artist does not allow paint the proper time to dry, it is very difficult for them to paint using

layers. Layered painting is a typical technique for making an object look three dimensional.

There is very little drying time in a Paint Talks performance. I have actually used fans to dry

the paint as I go, but the noise and wind creates an obvious distraction for the audience. I

have not mastered the process of performance painting with layers, but I have found that if I

strategically paint certain areas of the canvas at a time, I know they are drying while I paint

another area—and I know that I can go back to at least a fairly dry portion of the canvas in a

matter of minutes. Also, I found, and now consistently use, a particular type of acrylic paint

that dries very quickly.

How do you paint multiple images on a single canvas? Another challenge of Paint Talks

exists at the point of creating multiple images on the same canvas during a single

performance. I believe that painting layered images holds the audience‟s attention, so I feel

that the process is worthwhile. However, I realize that painting multiple images is a difficult

task to accomplish in a few minutes, partially (again) because of the slow drying process of a

Paint Talks performance. More paint means more drying time. When I try to paint over a


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thick application of paint, the image can become very muddy. Therefore, I use watered

down paint. The technique allows me to cover a much larger area of the canvas with paint at

one time—usually with a paint/water soaked sponge. Also, when the paint is really wet, it

will naturally spread by running down the canvas (if used intentionally, this produces a very

interesting effect). Finally, painting with watered down paint allows the black light paint to

shine through the acrylic image.

* * *


GP: Kent, do you need any more help?

I look around the room. I simply need to project and sketch the image.

K: I think that is it. Give me a few minutes to sketch the image, and I will be ready for

dinner.

GM: Kent, I see that you brought your black light. Are you going to paint your black light

image on the canvas first?

K: Actually, no. I was debating whether or not I needed to duplicate the entire process

of The Beautiful Collision (Figure 18) painting, for my project, so I brought the light

and the black light paint. But, now, I realize that I can accomplish the same goal by

simply painting and comparing the final acrylic image. (smiling) But, the light should

really be used for something—would you like for me to turn it on so you can catch

some rays?


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* * *

Figure 13. The Black Light Crucifix Painting, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

…INNOVATIVE QUESTIONS ABOUT THE BLACK LIGHT PAINTING

How do you paint a hidden image? The most common questions I hear after a Paint

Talks performance are “How did you do that?”, “Was the image of Jesus projected or did you paint it?”,

and “Was the image of Jesus already up there?” People (sometimes vehemently) want to know the

secret behind the final, glowing image (Figure 13). Typically, I simply tell a person, “That is

a great question!”, and then I say no more. Discovering how to paint a hidden, black light

image on a Paint Talks canvas has been, perhaps, the most difficult part of the Paint Talks

process. And, yes, it is painted, and yes, I paint the image before the performance. The first

time I tried to use a black light effect in one of my paintings, I painted with a clear, glow in

the dark craft paint, and I actually painted the black light image at the same time that I was

painting the other images. Also, the black light was provided by the leaders of the event.

Several difficulties arose with the clear, glow in the dark paint—it was hard to find in

stores, it only came in small bottles, and it did not usually glow with intensity. And, every


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time I painted the black light image using the clear paint, I had difficulty seeing the

substance, and I was fearful that I might accidentally paint a distorted image (my worst

nightmare was that I would paint an image of Jesus—missing an arm).

Several challenges also existed with using a black light. Most ultra violet lights were

too small to bring about the desired effect, and the large devices were difficult to rent.

Finally, I found solutions to both problems through an impressive Hollywood based

company named Wildfire.

After some trial and error, I discovered a paint from Wildfire that appears white in

normal light, but glows in one of any variety of colors (depending on the specific paint

selected) under a black light. I also discovered a specific type of craft paint that matches the

white of the backlight paint. The discoveries allowed me to pre-paint the black light image

on the canvas with great accuracy and great detail. If the canvas is painted with the craft

paint first, the pre-applied black light image is almost impossible to see in normal light. Any

part of the image that might still be visible to the audience is diffused with the mentioned

clear drop cloth and the watered down red paint.

A problem that arises from painting the black light image on the canvas before a

Paint Talks performance is that it is possible to distort, or entirely cover, the backlight image

with the acrylic paint during the performance. To avoid this, I first purchased a 400 watt

black light from Wildfire that will make a black light image shine through fairly thick layers of

acrylic paint. Second, (and, I have not mastered this technique) I learned that if the acrylic

image is watered down, the backlight image has the best chance of shining through. Finally,

recently I discovered that it is possible to use masking tape to save (mask) extremely

important portions of the black light image from the acrylic image. And, by hiding the tape


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with a layer of white paint, the process of peeling hidden masking tape off of the canvas

(underneath the tape the canvas is bright white) during a Paint Talks performance adds a

desirable effect for the audience.

* * *

The set is prepared. Time for a break. Time for some bar-b-q.

* * *

Riding in a Lincoln is like riding in a recliner—and today, that is a good thing.

I am tired. Constructing the set of a Paint Talks image is hard work.

Grandpa looks tired, too.

K: Well, I guess that pretty much answers my question.

GP: What is that?

K: Should I be paid for a Paint Talks performance? Sometimes, I wonder. It is usually only at

this point, after I have spent hours and hours of time and energy on a performance,

when I realize that Paint Talks is hard work.

I hesitate in saying anything about hard work to my Grandpa, a farmer of at least sixty years.

GP: Yeah, it sure is. Why do you feel guilty for being paid?

K: Personally, I have always struggled to understand whether or not a person should be

paid for ministry—it is I kind of silly.

I know the verse that Grandpa is about to refer to.

GP: Well, you know, Paul talks about church leaders being paid for their work in First

Corinthians. He says, “Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain” (1

Corinthians 9:9, NIV).


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K: Yes, I know that you are right. It is just—Paint Talks combines two things that

people often do for free—art and ministry. However, typically, people that do these

works for free do not perform either work on a full time basis. Also, some artists

and some ministers feel that working to be paid is not being true to art or

Christianity, but, again, I think that this happens usually when a person either does

not realize, or simply forgets about, the time, the energy, and the skill that each work

demands.

(pause)

Even when I think on these things, and I overcome my doubts, and I ask to be paid

for a Paint Talks performance—I find that getting people to pay a fair cost for this

type of work can be like pulling teeth.

GP: Hmm. Well, all I know, and all you can know, is that scripture shows that a person

should be paid fairly for doing a good work.

I am honored that this farmer, a man retired from a profession of function, has named my work a good work.

Grandpa‟s wording takes me back to a foundational idea of Dorothy Sayers (2004):

…[work] should be looked upon—not as a necessary drudgery to be undergone for

the purpose of making money, but as a way of life in which the nature of man should

find its proper exercise and delight and so fulfill itself to the glory of God. That it

should, in fact, be thought of as a creative activity undertaken for the love of the

work itself; and that man, made in God‟s image, should make things, as God makes

them, for the sake of doing well a thing that is well worth doing. (p. 125)

Although I often struggle with the idea of being paid for a Paint Talks performance, I

ultimately arrive at the conclusion that Paint Talks is hard work—it is art, it is ministry, and it


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is worthy of pay. However, a good work, and not a good pay, should be the end goal of

Paint Talks.

* * *

THE SCRIPT

From the comfortable cushioned chair, I look out the window at the West Texas

plains, and I am reminded of the many road trips that I have taken on account of Paint Talks.

I greatly appreciate the simplicity of the country life—the beautiful land, the open sky, and

even the smell of cow manure (my farming and ranching grandpa taught our family that it is

the smell of money). Typically, I enjoy driving across West Texas to perform a Paint Talk,

coasting through fields of cotton or wheat or corn while listening to Kenny Chesney on the

radio—I am more of the rocker type, but when I am in the country, I want the full effect.

And, getting the full effect of TX highways also means…being pulled over by the highway

patrol. Paint Talks road trips have a history of bringing out the flashing colors of the cops.

If I am not looking at the beautiful scenery, or if I am not having a discussion with a

policeman, during a Paint Talks journey…I am typically on the phone. Most Paint Talks

performances require an incredible amount of communication with a church or with a

minister, and most of it is done on the phone.

GP: Now, what did you decide to paint once we get back home?

K: I am going to duplicate the final image of a painting called The Beautiful Collision

(Figure 18) that I recently performed for Christ Community Church Southwest—

I almost catch myself. Usually, if I paint for fundamentalist Christian churches that are not Churches of

Christ, I try to not call attention to it in front of my grandparents—I know that it probably makes them

uncomfortable. Grandpa does not say anything, but I still feel a little tension.


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K The painting captures the essence of Paint Talks: it involves multiple images, it uses

almost every Paint Talks technique, and it reveals the image concludes with the black

light image of Christ on the cross. During the typical performance I create six

different images. First, I paint wild colors (Figure 42). Second, I blackout the canvas

(Figure 43). Third, I unveil images of planets heading directly towards each other

(Figure 44). Fourth, I show beams of light coming from the center of the collision

(Figure 45). Fifth, I paint an all-out, cataclysmic explosion (Figure 46). And, finally,

sixth, I unveil that Christ is in the Collision (Figure 47).

GP: (laughing) Hmm. It sounds like there is a lot going on in that painting. Is it hard to

communicate all of those ideas with a minister that you are painting with?

K: (pause) Yes—the communication of any Paint Talks performance is very difficult,

especially because most of it is done on the phone, and because I am (obviously)

typically a visual learner. The script of a Paint Talks planning discussion is complex.

I think back to the general discussion that I had with the preacher from Christ Community

Church Southwest.

* * *

K: Hello?

J: Kent, this is Jeff Harris from Christ Community Church Southwest!

I am a preacher‟s son, and I can tell the voice of a preacher, every time.

K: How are you?

J: I am GREAT! My family and the church family are both doing great. How are you?

K: I am actually doing much better than the last time we spoke, simply because Brynn is

doing much better.


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J: (softly) That‟s great. Kent, be assured that we did a lot of praying for her and for

you down here in Fort Worth.

K: (my voice cracks with emotion) Yes, (pause) I know that you did. Thank you.

MATCHING SCHEDULES

J: Well, Kent, the main reason why I am calling is that we want you to come and paint

another picture for us this Easter.

My first thought is that this request comes at a very busy time. But, something inside me remembers how in

the end, a painting is worth the time and effort.

K: I am always honored when you ask. And, as usual, I need to check with Brynn to see

if we have the opening in our schedule. If we do, I will be happy to come.

COMMUNICATING THE PHYSICAL SETTING

J: That sounds fair. (pause) Let me go ahead and tell you about the theme that our

Easter planning committee has been considering, but, keep in mind that we are

definitely open to any ideas you may have. As you know, for the last four years,

Christ Community Church has been meeting in a local high school. At the same

time, we have been prayerfully saving money to build a place of our own. Well,

about this time last year, we purchased land, completed plans, and broke ground.

(energetically) Kent, the building is almost finished—in fact, the first day we will be

meeting in it, is Easter Sunday.

K: Wow, that is great—and a little scary. (smiling) I guess that I will need to bring extra

drop cloths.


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COMMUNICATING THE SPIRITUAL SETTING

J: Hey man, don‟t worry about it—we built this place so that Christians would have a

place to come together and worship God with the gifts He has given them.

The language of the preacher confirms that Christ Community Church is not a typical fundamentalist

Christian church. I have painted for the congregation four or five times, and each time I am impressed by how

they are extremely respectful of the arts, and artist.

J: We also built this building to help the hurting. We will use it as a benevolence center

and a counseling center. In fact, I am just finishing a sermon series focused on

recovery—recovery from addiction and recovery from broken relationships.

K: That is really great.

I am touched by the selfless focus of the minister.

J: I am planning to start a brand new series on Easter Sunday. Usually, I try to gather

input from the church as I choose the topic for a series, and, as I mentioned, our

planning committee has been brainstorming several ideas. We do not have a title at

this point, but the general consensus is to focus on the way God brings light out of

darkness. We know that He did this in the beginning—at creation. We know He

did this by sending Christ into the World. And, we know that he can do this in

people‟s lives, today. God sees the light in everyone‟s life, no matter how dark it is.

K: Jeff, I am sorry for interrupting. But, as I listened to what you just said, I was vividly

reminded of the painting that I recently performed at a conference in California.

(pause) I tell you what—right now, I really need to let you go. But, if it sounds

good to you, I will email you photos of the California painting. Take a look and let

me know if the image works with your idea. I am willing to come up with something


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completely new for the Easter event, but, I feel that the image I mentioned may go

perfectly with the message you and your committee are trying to communicate.

I will also let you know, in the email, whether or not I will be able to come on

Easter. —sound good?

J: That sounds great. Kent, we really want you to come!

K: Oh, (pause) I almost forgot. The title of the image is…The Beautiful Collision.

* * *

MISCOMMUNICATION

K: Hello. Jeff, this is Kent Mereness.

J: Hey, Kent—are you getting close?

K: I am about three hours away—I should be there by 2:00. (pause) Hey, I have a few

questions—a few questions about your email. Can you take me back through your

sermon notes? I was a little confused about when you wanted me to paint what.

J: And, you say that you got my email—I‟m pretty sure that I included all of that.

K: I did get your email, but, all I saw was randomly stacked script that looked like a

rough draft of sermon notes.

J: Did you get my slides? I think that I included my exact sermon slides.

K: Oh…I did not know that you attached your slides.

J: Hey, it doesn‟t matter. What matters is that God is going to do some great things

this weekend. What do you need?

K: Well, do you have time to run through the details of the sermon with me?


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I feel really bad at this point. I must have overlooked the formal notes on the email, and now I am taking

Jeff away from helping the people who are, no doubt, frantically finishing up the building for the following

day‟s service.

COMMUNICATING THE SERMON

J: Sure. Kent, the primary focus of my sermon will be a poem by Stephen Bukowski

called Bluebird—let me read it to you:

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see

you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I pur whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks

never know that he's

in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him, I say,

stay down, do you want to mess me up?

you want to screw up the works?

you want to blow my book sales in Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out but I'm too clever, I only let him out

at night sometimes when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,


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so don't be

sad.

then I put him back, but he's singing a little

in there, I haven't quite let him die

and we sleep together like that

with our secret pact

and it's nice enough to make a man

weep, but I don't weep, do

you?

(Bukowski & Martin, 2007, p. 545-546)

J: I am taking this poem—

K: Jeff.

J: Yeah.

K: That is so powerful.

J: (pause) Kent, I have seen grown men weep at this poem—at the reality that they are

intentionally suppressing the goodness inside them. But, Jesus always sees the

bluebird in everyone. In the darkest life, Jesus sees light. He sees the lame man or

the lame woman as whole. And, in order to let the bluebird out, there must be a

collision. A collision of ideals—a collision of worlds.

I begin to see how the painting and the message is supposed to flow together.

J: From the email that you sent to me, there are five or six stages to the painting,

correct?

K: Well, it depends on how detailed you want to be. Yes, I see at least six. But, as you

know from the previous times we have worked together, we do not have to match


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the sermon with every one of these stages. As long as we are close to matching the

timing of the sermon with the timing of the painting, the audience will connect the

dots.

THE INTRODUCTION

J: Right. So, if you look at my email again you will see that I have built my sermon

around the primary turning points of your painting. I plan to begin by speaking

about the colors of God, and how, while the art of man is beautiful, it does not

compare to the art of God.

I completely connect with this idea.

J: During this time, you will be painting random images of color—correct?

K: Yes, that is right.

J: Will you be painting a specific image?

K: No. I tend to focus simply on filling the canvas with vibrant color—it will definitely

have more of an abstract feeling.

J: Okay, great. Kent, you will know that I am coming to the end of the first stage when

I begin talking about the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2). I will try to help the audience

imagine the beautiful colors of the garden, and I will explain that in the beginning

God freely gave this beautiful place to mankind—but then—man sinned, (pause)

and darkness covered the beauty of the garden. It was never to be seen by mankind

again. As I discuss this—

THE BODY

K: Start blacking out the canvas?


146

J: Yes. Next, I will dwell on the idea of darkness for a while, specifically referring to

Peter‟s denial of Christ (Matthew 26), and the feeling that Peter must have had when

he realized the darkness of his deed. I will talk about how we all know what it feels

like to go to bed disappointed in ourselves.

I think about how I know this feeling all too well, how I have felt this way as recently as this morning.

J: I will also talk about the idea of keening—

K: What is that?

J: Well, I have a friend who recently he lost his wife. So, his young children also lost

their mother. He tells me that, on the day of her death, his children were filled with

such sorrow that they cried out in an almost in-human way. He says that the sounds

they made were something he had never heard before. The term for this kind of cry,

this kind of bitter, guttural cry, is called keening. The Bible states that after Peter

realized that he had disowned Jesus, he “wept bitterly” (Matthew 16:75, NIV)—I

imagine this cry to as keening.

K: And I will be painting darkness at this point?

J: Yes, you will paint the canvas black until I finish the poem. I will read the poem

aloud, and I will talk about how even in our darkest moments, there is goodness

inside of us. And, even thought everyone around us cannot see it, Jesus comes to

bring it out of us. At this point, you can start revealing the image of the planets, and

the collision.

K: Okay, just know that it will take a while to paint the next scene.

J: How long do you think you will need?


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K: Probably twenty minutes. It takes me about seven or eight minutes to convert the

image of darkness into star constellations, seven or eight minutes to draw the image

of two planets heading towards each other, and finally about ten minutes to remove

the tape from the canvas and create the image of an explosion—actually, we

probably ought to say twenty-five minutes.

J: I am not worried about you having enough time—I will give you plenty of time.

However, this brings us to the end of the sermon, and I am going to throw out a

couple possibilities to you. I am going to close the sermon with the idea that Jesus

wants to meet us in our darkness—he wants to collide with us and bring out the light

within. He wants to take our dark past and turn it into something that will help

someone. Now, you said that you would like to play a song by David Crowder

during the moments where you are pulling the tape off of the canvas, correct?

K: Yes, that is how I have done this painting before. The song, entitled A Beautiful

Collision (Crowder & Parker, 2005), lasts about three minutes. It conveys several

ideas that are very similar to your sermon. It especially speaks the final point of your

message—that sometimes God has to break through a person‟s calloused heart in

order to bring out the light within. A logistical note—looking back at the different

times that I have used the song, it seems to be most effective if the preacher sits

down and simply lets the music speak for the painting. As the song plays I will

remove the tape that has secretly been on the canvas the entire time, showing the

dramatic image of the colliding planets, as well as the pure light that remains in the

darkness.

Jeff laughs—I can tell that he is excited to see all of this come together


148

J: I tell you what, I was originally planning on playing the song after you finished

removing the tape—but that sounds really cool. Plus, that would allow you to have

more time to complete the painting.

K: That is fine, but if you change your mind, I know that there are several ways to

complete this puzzle.

J: So, I will actually finish my sermon, lead into the song, and then you will complete

the painting during the song?

THE CONCLUSION

K: That sounds good. I guess the last thing we need to do is talk about how and when

we need to reveal the final image. And, I actually have some ideas on this.

J: Okay.

K: This makes the fifth painting that I have performed at your church. And, we have

always closed the service by revealing the final black light image. And, every time the

conclusion of the performance has made a dramatic impact. But, I was thinking

today—we have never allowed the audience much time to dwell on the image—we

usually move quickly to a closing song. Also, we have never given the audience an

opportunity to respond after the final image has been revealed. I know that

revealing the final image will be dramatic, either way. But, I was wondering if the

ending might be more effective if we allow the audience time to process their

emotions, and thoughtfully respond.

J: (pause) I really like that idea, Kent. Here is what we might do. After the song

finishes playing, you continue touching up the painting. I will step back up to the

stage, and lead the audience into communion—this is actually what I was planning


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on doing before we started talking. I will offer a time where everyone is welcome to

respond to what they have seen and heard by praying with someone sitting close to

them, or by simply writing a response on a card. As I introduce the meaning of

communion, and close my thoughts about focusing on Jesus, the one who wants to

collide with our darkness and bring forth the light that he knows is within each of us,

you will step away from the painting and wait to turn on the black light. As

communion is served, and as people are looking on The Beautiful Collision painting,

you quietly reveal the black light image of Jesus on the cross.

The discussion about the finale reveals that my heart has changed over the past seven years. I am less

concerned with impressive special effects—I am seeking lasting change.

K: That sounds really good, Jeff. It will be a bit more subtle and thoughtful than the

previous paintings. Sounds good.

* * *

THE BODY ON A STAGE

KENT MERENESS, FOR ALL TO SEE

Male, Five feet Ten inches

Late Twenties, Overweight

Blue Eyes, Blonde Hair

White Skin, Black Shirt

Blue Jeans, Brown Shoes

Painting a Fundamentalist Message


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Figure 14. The Body on the Stage, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

KENT MERENESS, NOT FOR ALL TO SEE

Nervous Male, Shaking Five feet Ten inches

Late Twenties and feeling sore from setting up, concerned about being Overweight

Blue Eyes tired from sleep deprivation, Blonde Hair soaked with sweat

self aware of my White Skin, wondering if my Black Shirt will cover my sagging

Blue Jeans, frustrated that my Brown Shoes do not match my black belt

so focused on the logistics of the timing and the Painting

that I am almost completely unaware of a fundamentalist Message

that the preacher is speaking in the background (Figure 14)

* * *

THE PURPOSE

The set (the physical ideas and work), the script (the intense communication required

with a minister and/or event committee), and the body on a stage (the physical performance)

are elements of a Paint Talks performance that have always interested me. And, for some


151

time, I have wondered if an analysis of the performative elements of Paint Talks would reveal

the answer to a question that I have asked for some time. I am aware of the relationship (or

lack of) between the arts and the fundamentalist Christian church. So, what is it about Paint

Talks? Why are Paint Talks embraced by the fundamentalist Christian Church?

I decide to open the discussion to every passenger riding in the vehicle.

K: I have a question.

GP: Nnnokay.

GM: Yes.

B: Uh-oh.

K: Why do you think that Paint Talks is accepted in conservative (fundamentalist

Christian) churches?

GM: Kent, what do you mean?

K: Well, if you think about it, most of the churches where I perform are extremely

conservative when it comes to the arts.

GP: (nodding) Hmmm.

I feel that I need to develop the idea before everyone speaks.

K: I have actually been wondering about this for a while.

When I think of the arts, I think of music—but, typically, the places where I perform

do not allow instruments in worship. Many times they do not even allow clapping or

the raising of hands.

When I think of the arts, I think of dance—but the churches where I

perform do not smile on their members dancing—in any way. I can only imagine

what they would do if someone started dancing during the service.


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When I think of the arts, I think of movies. Many recent films uncover and

expose immoral things about our world, but they would not be referenced in a

sermon where I perform a painting—a sermon that seeks to reveal the same truth—

simply because of their R rating. Often, Hollywood is simply written off as a

synonym for sin.

And, obviously, when I think of the arts, I think of the visual arts. I think

about two and three dimensional works of every medium. And, I think about how

in most of the Churches where I perform, the architecture is dry and simple—it is

more about function than beauty. Typically, the only visuals allowed are plastic

plants, and posters or paintings bought at a Christian book store—if even that. The

halls and walls are usually bare and white. Other than the typical baptistery painting,

or classroom decoration, the visual arts are basically absent—inside and out.

Grandpa, Grandma, and Brynn listen attentively.

K: Then, here I come, and paint a picture in the middle of the church building—in the

middle of worship—and, my art is embraced. I have painted in almost one hundred

fundamentalist Christian churches—and every time, Paint Talks is embraced.

GP: Well?

I begin to speak about an experience that supports my claim.

K Going all the way back to my very first performance—even it took place at a very

conservative (fundamentalist Christian) church camp. As I have probably told you,

my friend Phillip, who does not mind pushing some conservative (fundamentalist

Christian) boundaries, basically thrust me onto the stage. He knew that I had always

wanted to use art to teach the Gospel, he was the director of the camp, and he was


153

my boss for the summer—so, putting it lightly, he “encouraged” me to take

advantage of a clear opportunity to accomplish my dream. Looking back, had I been

more mature or had I known the conservative history of the venue, I might not have

accepted Phillip‟s proposition—at least I would have asked more questions. But, in my

ignorance, I dove in.

GM: That was the chalk painting (Figure 90), right?

K: Yes. I actually painted and spoke for a group of about two hundred students, ranging

from nine to nineteen. About fifty adults were present as well. Almost every person

was a representative of a conservative (fundamentalist Christian) congregation.

When I stepped on the stage, I was very nervous—simply because I was

painting in front of a live audience. But, I soon grew comfortable with the chalk, the

charcoal, and two foot by three foot drawing pad. My message centered on a

passage from Ephesians.

I pull a Bible from the holder in the car door and begin reading.

So I tell you this, and insist on it in the Lord, that you must no longer

live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking. They are

darkened in their understanding and separated from the life of God

because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardening of their

hearts. Having lost all sensitivity, they have given themselves over to

sensuality so as to indulge in every kind of impurity, with a continual

lust for more. (Ephesians 4:7-9, NIV)

To illustrate how sin overtakes a life, I painted the image of a thunderstorm.

Interchanging moments of paint with moments of talk, I drew a small white cloud


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and spoke about the simple beginning of habitual sin. Slowly and steadily, I added

bold strokes to the pretty cloud. Eventually, the picture changed into an ugly and

billowing mass. And, as the image grew, I discussed the controlling and enslaving

nature of sin. In a matter of moments, a powerful storm raged across the drawing

pad.

Every time I added to the picture, I turned my back to the audience. Several

times I wondered if they were still paying attention—they were so quiet. But, every time

I turned from the painting to the people, I was amazed to find every eye of every child

and every adult completely focused on the presentation. The attention energized me.

Once I completed the image of darkness, I then began boldly speaking about

how Jesus has the power to break through the storm, and break through the chains

of sin—at the moment a person willingly offers Him control of their life. To

illustrate this idea, during the singing of a song, I used a kneaded eraser and light

colored chalk to gradually reveal a second image. First, I made it appear as if light

was coming from the clouds in the shape of a cross. Then, I brought out the image

of a man, wearing shackles on his wrists, and raising his arms above his head.

Finally, I showed that the light from the cross was shattering the chains of the

shackles.

My first image was quite small, and it did not involve technology—it did not

involve a black light. But, when I completed the image and turned to the audience,

again, I was amazed to find that every eye of every adult and every child in the building

was focused on the presentation. Many of those eyes were filled with tears—of

repentance, of hope, of joy. That night, as the invitation song was sung, I was


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overwhelmed by the physical and emotional response to Paint Talks. Looking back, I

am overwhelmed by the way people from conservative (fundamentalist Christian)

churches embraced Paint Talks.

GM: Kent, first, let me just say that I obviously love what you do—and I come from a

conservative background. And, Grandpa would say the same thing.

GP: Right.

GM: I think you ask a good question. Obviously, I think that one reason your work is

accepted is that you perform a lot of Paint Talks for youth events—people are going

to naturally be a little more relaxed about what goes on in that setting. But, then

again, I also remember you doing the painting for us at our church for people of all

ages, and everybody loved it—even the most elderly people!

K: I really appreciate the encouragement, and, I say this with humility, and for the sake

of the question—that is the typical response I hear from adults. For instance, one

time I performed for a conservative (fundamentalist Christian) Church in Raleigh,

North Carolina. As I painted and talked about focusing on God‟s faithfulness, I

painted the image of a ship in a storm (Figure 78) to symbolize times when it is

difficult to have faith—the faith that is “blown and tossed by the wind” (James 1:6,

NIV). Part of the way through the message, I noted how the audience was already

responding verbally and energetically. I would make a point, and they would say,

“Amen!” The congregation was really into it. So, I began wondering what the

response was going to be when I unveiled the black light image.

Finally, to emphasize that the power of God‟s faithfulness, I unveiled the

black light image of Jesus on the cross. Simultaneously I stated the words “…Peace,


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be still” (Mark 4: 39, KJV)—and, the audience erupted. I heard gasps, and voices,

and finally one voice above the rest—“Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”

I was stunned. It is rare to hear a fundamentalist audience respond in such a

verbal way to a Paint Talks performance. I was expressing my gratitude for the

audience participation to a small group of people from the congregation after the

service when a small, elderly woman approached me. She was the matriarch of the

congregation—her name was Rita.

* * *

R: Can I touch ya?!

K: Excuse me?

R: Can I touch ya‟?!

K: (silence)

I do my best to act humbly.

K: Sure.

Taking me by the arm, the matriarch looks me in the eyes—sternly.

R: Boy, that was a healin‟ message!

K: (silence)

I am stunned. I do not know what to say. The group of members giggle as if they are used the antics of the

older woman. She silences them.

R: No!

Rita swings her cane towards the laughing crowd.

R: Boy, my back has been hurting me—and I needed that message. That was a healin‟

message. I‟m throwin‟ my cane down!


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Rita tosses her silver cane onto the Church carpet, throws her arms up in the air, and begins dancing.

* * *

Grandpa laughs. Typically, he would be very uncomfortable by the charismatic situation, but it seems that he

is overcome with the image of the dancing matriarch.

I use one of Phillip‟s favorite phrases.

K: That was something. (pause) Okay, it is apparent that everyone in this car comes from a

conservative (fundamentalist Christian) background. I am curious about each of

your personal opinions of Paint Talks?

GP: Well, I have always seen Paint Talks as a visual parable. When I think about how

Jesus taught people, he always used images from life to help people understand.

Obviously, he did not paint his images, but they were there.

I respect Grandpa‟s definition—it is rooted in Scripture.

K: That is really interesting—thank you Grandpa.

GM: Kent, as I‟ve said before, I feel that Paint Talks is special for two reasons. In the

beginning of a performance, the entire audience experiences a very special time of

worship—together. But, at the end, the individual experiences a very special

moment—a personal moment of reflection, and a personal moment with God.

I am always greatly impacted by the wisdom of my Grandma.

K: Thank you.

B: Kent, when I see you paint, I think about God as the creator. I also think about the

creative gifts God has given me—to be able to play the piano, to knit, to bake

(smiling). I am always encouraged by your work with Paint Talks because it reminds


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me that I should cherish my gifts of creativity, and I should use those gifts to serve

God.

I am always greatly impacted by the wisdom of my wife. I do not verbally respond to her thoughts. Rather, I

find her gaze in the rear view mirror, and I smile proudly at her.

K: So, do you all think that people from conservative (fundamentalist Christian)

churches share these thoughts? Do you think they equate Paint Talks with parables?

Do you think they are moved by the corporate and personal experience? Do you

think they are encouraged in to use their own creative gifts? And, are these the

reasons why conservative (fundamentalist Christian) churches embrace Paint Talks?

GM: I think they are the reasons that some people accept them.

K: Along the lines of what Brynn said, I have noticed that the act of painting, and the

act of Paint Talks, is often treated as a natural creative process. I think that people

accept Paint Talks because they see it as a natural response to the Creator. But, I also

realize that if these people spent a long time analyzing the process, they might forget

about how natural it is, and simply focus on its nontraditional placement in a

worship service. Knowing this, I also feel that some people often accept Paint Talks

because they do not expect Paint Talks. I typically do not, and I have noticed that

many churches that host me do not, widely advertise that I am coming to their

church. So, it seems that when people see me paint, they usually have not had time

to form an opinion about Paint Talks. And, usually, they see it as a beautiful and

natural process.

Typically, the people that would be worried about a nontraditional worship

service—do not have time to get worried about Paint Talks.


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Everyone laughs even though I was being quite serious.

For some time I have wondered why Paint Talks is accepted in fundamentalist Christian churches. I bring

the discussion to a point.

K: Answer one final question for me. Do you think that Paint Talks is more about the

image or the message?

GM: Well, obviously it is about painting—but the painting is always rooted in the

message. And, a lot of times, even when your painting is finished, the message

continues.

GP: Similar to parables, images were used to support the message.

B: Kent, if you did not have a message that you wanted to tell others—would Paint

Talks exist? The message makes Paint Talks what it is.

I feel that this audience is confirming what I have always suspected—Paint Talks is accepted in

fundamentalist Christian churches because they are seen less as paintings, and more as messages—

fundamentalist Christian messages.

B: Kent, maybe that is why Paint Talks is accepted. Maybe it is because the audience—a

conservative audience that is most concerned with a message from inerrant

Scripture—still hears Scripture. And, not only do they hear a sermon, but they see

you perform one. You are performing more than a painting, you are performing a

sermon.

GM: Right.

GP: The important thing is for Paint Talks to speak from Scripture.

GM: Right.


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* * *

It is no mystery to me that if I simply donated (the very same) images to the

churches that I paint for, that they probably would not hang them on their walls—at least,

not for very long. We have already discussed how the image is ambiguous, and in

fundamentalist Christian Churches, congregations that base their being on the inerrancy of

Scripture, an ambiguous message is a dangerous message. However, I believe that the power

of coupling the performance of a fundamentalist message with Paint Talks, removes ambiguity

from the image, and makes the overall process acceptable to fundamentalist Christian

churches.

I believe that the performance of Paint Talks, a human body painting on a stage in

front of an audience, lends credibility to the work, in the eyes of the fundamentalist Christian

church. Many of the churches where I perform know me, or they know my family and my

family‟s work with fundamentalist Christian churches. So, when they see me physically

perform a painting, they expect to see an image that is consistent with my family‟s beliefs,

and they feel protected from an ambiguous message. However, whether or not an audience

personally knows me or my family, when they see me, a human being, working, sweating, moving,

and breathing over a canvas, it lends humanity and credibility to the message. It is a very

different situation when a person tries to interpret an image being created by a human being,

rather than trying to interpret the meaning of random canvas hanging alone on a wall. The

performance of Paint Talks removes ambiguity from the image.

I also believe that the message of Paint Talks, which cannot be separated from the

performance of a Paint Talk, also lends credibility to the work in the eyes of the

fundamentalist Christian Church. A Paint Talks message is almost difficult to misunderstand,


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for three reasons. First, most Paint Talks images include strong enough icons that they speak

a very clear Christian message—even if certain icons seem kitsch, or overused in our society.

Second, the progression of a typical Paint Talks image often follows the format of basic

public speech. Usually there is an introduction—abstract forms of bold paint are excitedly

applied to the canvas. Next, a progression of images (a body filled with supporting points)

appear and disappear on the canvas. Ultimately, a bold conclusion, typically a black light

image, is revealed. Third, even if an image is somewhat ambiguous, pairing painting with

speaking almost guarantees that an audience will not misinterpret what an image is saying.

The message of a Paint Talks performance is typically extremely clear.

My personal actions throughout the existence of Paint Talks, at least until now, show

that I believe Paint Talks is more about performing a message than painting a picture.

Typically, if someone asks me about the images that I paint, I tell them that I have to

sacrifice certain elements as an artist, due to the pressures of time constraints, an audience,

and a lack of perspective—just to name a few—but that it is worth it due to the message I get to

perform. When I charge a church for a Paint Talks performance, I typically charge half for

the performance and half for keeping the painting. However, if someone cannot come up

with the money to pay for the painting, I typically leave it with the congregation for free.

Again, to me it is less about painting a picture, and more about performing a message.

* * *

For whatever reason, I do not like the idea of connecting the word performance to art

or faith. However, the often emotion-less physical labor of the set, the communicative

challenge of the script, and ultimately, the physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining

moments of placing my body on a stage, are all worthwhile, because of the purpose


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—because of the message I get to perform.


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CHAPTER VI

PAINTING

What is the role of the artist in the fundamentalist Christian church?

* * *

I am full of bar-b-q, and full of love. These dinner escapades bring about priceless

moments of conversation and laughter. And, my family laughs about the same things every

time—like the way Grandma always, and I mean ALWAYS freezes leftovers, or the way

Grandma tries to get away with making up words, or the way Grandma…yes, we give my

grandma a hard time—but she loves it. As we return to Panhandle, driving West on TX

Highway 60, I feel content.

Grandma and Brynn are asleep—it is my duty to try to keep Grandpa awake as he

drives. Feeling too full and too sleepy to make too much conversation, I pull a book out

from underneath the seat. I brought Carolyn Ellis‟ The Ethnographic I (2004) for just this type

of moment—autoethnography is an especially good read during quiet moments.

I know that when I get home, I will begin to paint the image that I have been

working towards all day, and that I have been planning for months. Recalling a discussion

from COMS 6308 that focused on one chapter from Ellis‟ (2004) book, I turn to page one

184: Artful Autoethnography. Keeping one eye on Grandpa and one eye on my book, I read

through a few passages.

* * *

COURAGEOUS PAINTING

Carolyn Ellis writes a short narrative about her friendship with Karen Scott-Hoy—

an artist and an autoethnographer. During the story, the two scholars dialogue, and Scott-


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Hoy tells Ellis how she has been greatly inspired by her work. She states that, after returning

from an insightful conference led by Ellis, she asked her thesis chair if it would be possible

to change her project to an autoethnography. The chair, knowing that Scott-Hoy was also

an artist, encouraged her to “…go home and paint, and see what happened” (Ellis, 2004, p.

186).

I stop reading and think about how I am actually going home to paint. I am excited that

I am going to get to paint at all—but, deep down, I wish that I had the freedom (today) to

paint like Karen Scott-Hoy. Painting with absolute freedom brings about a physical,

emotional, and spiritual high that is difficult to explain. Thinking about the limitations that

are currently binding my upcoming painting, I wonder, “When will be the next time that I am able

to paint whatever I want?”—without time limits and without an audience watching over my

shoulder. “When will be the next time that I am able to actually ponder, think about, and feel a subject,

and then capture the visible or invisible, through color, form, shape, line, and texture.” Painting with

freedom—the phrase that best describe it is…really living.

Scott-Hoy continues:

So I went home and I said to myself, „Where do I start? What does he mean, go

home and paint?‟ I answered myself, „Paint your methodology. Show your

experiences in the field and the connections you felt. Show what bothered you about

writing a traditional ethnography where the author is removed. Paint your

experience with the ni-Vanuatu people.‟ (Ellis, 2004, p. 186)

“What would it mean to paint autoethnography—or, even more, autoethnographically.” I think to

myself about how the process would probably be emergent (Richardson, 2000) in and of

itself (although, it would be difficult to not plan a painting). The artist would probably be


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highly reflexive and keenly aware of the way their unique perspective causes them to see and

re-present the world during the process of the painting, and they would expresses their honest

emotions through an evocative and poetic image. However, not only would the artist create

the image during a reflexive process, but they would reflect this reflexivity; the image they

create would cause the viewer to be highly reflexive; the image would cause the viewer to see

within their self. Perhaps, an artist painting autoethnographically would also create an image

that continues to emerge—that continues to ask difficult questions about depths of the

viewer, even if the viewer is the original artist.

Scott-Hoy proceeds to paint. She sends a photo of her painting to Carolyn Ellis, and

the image ends up as the cover of one of the supreme texts on autoethnography—The

Ethnographic I (2004). I quietly rest my finger on the page as a bookmarker, and turn the

book to where I can see the cover. I am careful to be quiet so that my Grandpa does not

notice the impressionistic image of the half-naked woman.

Figure 15. Cover of Ethnographic I (Ellis, 2004), Autoethnography by Karen Scott-Hoy (n.d.),

(Autoethnography, 2008).


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The colored cover of the book reveals Karen Scott-Hoy‟s painting (Figure 15)—it is

of a half-naked, White woman, who is partially covered by a pink robe. It appears that the

person is standing between a bedroom and a bathroom, for one half of the background is a

thatch wall, and the other is a tile wall. The woman is facing the viewer and holding one arm

behind her back, but the viewer can see her naked back in a mirror on the tiled side of the

painting (which appears to be a bathroom). The viewer can also see that the woman is

holding an object in the hidden hand. In place of the person‟s belly is a globe, and the

woman‟s face is distorted—it almost seems as if she has two faces. One of the faces is

looking at the viewer, and the other is looking to the viewer‟s left. It appears that the second

face is looking towards a second person—a dark skinned woman, who is almost completely

out of the frame of the image. The second person appears to be female, and is adorned with

a colorful, international wardrobe. Finally, paint from both of the characters is smeared into

each other at the point of their face, chest, and belly.

I look at the picture and wonder about the meaning. As I have already mentioned, I

do not consider myself an expert at interpreting art. However, I greatly appreciate it when

the artist verbally, or in writing, helps the viewer understand the deeper meaning of a

particular piece of art. For some reason, I feel that I am cheating by not figuring out the

image on my own—none-the-less, I turn back into the text (like a child turning to the back

of a book before reading the front) to hear what the artist has to say.

When I see that Scott-Hoy is also helping Carolyn Ellis interpret the painting, I do not

feel quite as dumb. The artist explains to the scholar that the White woman is an idealized

self portrait. The foremost image shows the self, but the mirror reveals “the self as the

other” (Ellis, 2004, p. 189). The dual-face represents self-reflexivity. Scott-Hoy explains


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that the globe specifically reveals the islands of the ni-Vanuatu people. Because the islanders

claim to hold the most important things of life in their belly, similar to the Western idea of

heart, she paints a globe in the stomach to reveal her passion for the ni-Vanuatu people. The

purpose for the partial covering of the woman in foreign dress, and the purpose dividing the

background into halves (one half Americanized bathroom, one half ni-Vanuatu living space),

is that the artist feels that she is “one body, but two people” (Ellis, 2004, p. 189). Scott-Hoy

also reveals that the second woman is a ni-Vanuatu woman, and that the smeared lines

between the two characters connect the artist to the islanders—“belly to belly, heart to heart,

mouth to mouth…mind to mind” (Ellis, 2004, p. 191).

I sit back in my cushioned chair admiring the courage of Karen Scott-Hoy. Not only

did she have the courage to paint from the heart, but she actually sent her painting,

representing autoethnography, to one of the top scholars in the field of autoethnography. I

also ponder the simple brilliance of the image—it is smart. Scott-Hoy combines rich and

complex, personal and collective ideas into a very small space. I also think on one final

detail that the artist reveals about the image. Scott-Hoy tells Ellis that she wanted to make

the object in the hidden hand of painting‟s subject ambiguous—but, for her, the object

represented a Bible. She says that “…[if] you take everything away, I‟m still going to have

my values. They might change—they do change—but I‟ll still hold on to them” (p. 190). I

wonder about the balance between communication, art, and faith for this artist—for this

courageous autoethnographer.

* * *

I look at Grandpa—his eyes are beginning to close.

K: Grandpa, you doing okay?


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GP: Mmm…yeah. I‟m doing fine.

I always wonder if that means, “Yes, I am as awake as ever,” or, “Yes, we are all fine since now that I am

awake we are not in danger of veering into oncoming traffic.”

I look out the window.

K: I wonder what these clouds are going to do.

GP: Well, it looks like they‟re moving east. (laughing) It can always change, but I doubt

we get any rain today. I bet it makes for a pretty sunset.

I am convinced that this retired farmer knows more than the average meteorologist.

As we pass fields of dried corn stubble, I am reminded that some people think that

West Texas is ugly. I agree that staring at the plains from the cab of a tractor eventually

becomes, plain (Hey, every autoethnographer should spend time on a tractor—talk about

forced self-reflexivity.). But, to me, the beauty of the plains cannot be contested.

Personally, I feel that most people do not see the beauty because they are not willing to

pause

from their busy schedule,

and really see.

* * *

A WEST TEXAS PALETTE

(please take your time)

Red

stop signs; barns; silos; cardinals; Case tractors; sunsets

Orange

Monarch butterflies; robins; Alice Chalmers tractors; sunsets


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Yellow

the sunrise; sunflowers; buttercups; tops of corn stalks; road signs; sunsets

Green

the sunrise; weeds; fields of corn, soybeans, and maze; orchards; John Deere tractors

Blue

the sunrise; afternoon sky; blue jays; midnight; Ford tractors

Violet

the sunrise; bluebonnets; evening clouds; sunsets

Black

angus cattle; roads; crows; stormy skies; oil; tractor tires

Brown

wheat fields; harvested corn fields; fence posts; horses; cows;

rabbits; antelope; deer; sparrows; pheasants; ducks; dirt; tumbleweeds

White

clouds; cilice; cotton fields; corrals; grain elevators; stars; the sun

* * *

I am convinced that if someone pauses and looks closely at the dirt and the rocks

and the plants and the animals of the plains, they have to consider the possibility of a

creator—it is all so very complex, and so beautiful! Really looking at acres and acres of

seasonal crops (you should see an entire field of sunflowers turn with the sun) is literally as

empowering as looking at the sea. And, the West Texas plains are metaphorical—every

season carries the meaning of life, death, and renewed life.


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But the beauty of the West Texas plains pales in comparison to the beauty of the

West Texas sky.

I look out the window and into the deep blue sky—the metaphors are obvious. Life

is wide open. The possibilities are endless. There is room to do things that have not been done before. There

are many more things to see, and many more paintings to be painted. There is something beyond the sky,

even though I cannot see it. The dark blue gently and perfectly fades into a lighter shade closer to

the horizon, and the sky seems to hold the clouds in place.

Observing the clouds, I am reminded of the beauty of a West Texas thunderstorm.

(Similar to the first Paint Talks image, but on a much grander scale) Small cotton balls grow

throughout the early afternoon into one large white mass. And, it seems that in an instant,

the base of the mass widens, and flattens, while the top shoots straight up, billowing and

growing towards the heavens like a mushroom cloud. The sky turns gray and green and

black, and then the rain pours! Again, the metaphors are endless: Life changes quickly. Beauty

is deceiving. Storms are a reality of life, but they bring life. Someone greater is in control.

Most of all, West Texas sunrises and sunsets are gorgeous. There is nothing more

beautiful than a sunset on a slightly overcast day. Not only are they beautiful, but they hold

a special place in my heart—they remind me of my grandparents. I cannot count the times

in my youth where my entire family sat on my Grandparents‟ back porch (in great thinking

chairs) and watched the sun set on miles and miles of farmland. The sunsets at my

Grandparents reminded me, and still remind me, that God is the ultimate artist. I have

always enjoyed painting from pictures of West Texas sunsets, but I never feel adequate. It is

impossible capture God‟s art—His amazing strokes, His incomprehensible palette.

To me, a West Texas sunset is as if God is saying,


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“Watch this.”

* * *

K: You know it sure is beautiful here.

GP: It‟s real nice.

The back and forth conversation on the way home is short and slow. I like the pace. I feel so very fulfilled. I

stare at the painted lines on the street as one at a time they pass under the car. It seems as if they are alive.

* * *

DEAD PAINTING

I stare at the lines that I drew on the canvas before dinner, almost three hours ago—

they are dead.

“Why am I having such a difficult time with this?” I have been looking at this blank white

space for thirty minutes—unmoved. I feel like I am going crazy. This typically happens when

I come to a major crossroads in life—choosing where to go to college, choosing what career

path to take, choosing which job to apply for…

choosing an image to paint that represents twenty eight years of living, seven years of Paint Talks,

and two years of Communication Studies.

“Come on Kent. You had this all planned out!” I think about how I was simply going to

paint the final image of The Beautiful Collision. I was going to paint it with great attention to

detail, and then when it was over, I was going to compare it to the final image of the same

painting from an actual Paint Talks performance. And, I knew what was going to happen

when I made the comparison.

Then, it hits me.


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* * *

CONFESSION

“I have been running a scientific experiment.

I was going to see a dramatic difference between the two paintings that proved that Paint Talks is

more about the message, and less about the painting. By proving this, I was also going to prove why Paint

Talks is accepted in the fundamentalist church. I was, actually, not very clear about what the final thesis

painting would proclaim about the role of the Christian artist in a fundamentalist church, because sadly, I felt

that the comparison would prove…that I am not a true artist—just a preacher, speaking with images.”

* * *

But, something inside of me (perhaps, the artist inside of me) is keeping me from

lifting a brush—from even lifting a finger, for this scientific experiment. Something is

making me feel imprisoned by my plan to objectively compare two specimens, research a

hypothesis, and try to predict the future of the work of Paint Talks.

My heart feels like a rock in my chest, and I feel like cement in the folding chair. I

feel dead—even worse, I feel bored. I look at this canvas, and I feel like I am about to waste

it. Something inside me tells me that I am selling out if I paint something that I have painted

before.

“Father, I do not know what to paint.”

At the crossroads, my faith is often very week. At the crossroads, I wish that God

would simply tell me what to do, but to this day I have never heard a voice from the

heavens. It is in these moments that I am tempted to not believe in God. It is in the

moment of indecision that I often wonder if God is real, which is particularly problematic,

because, most of my decisions very specifically depend on the reality of God (the decision to


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go to a Christian University, the decision to study to become a Christian minister, the

decision to paint images of Jesus). But somehow, in these moments of doubt, I still find the

strength to cry out—

“Father, I do believe. Help me overcome my unbelief” (Mark 9:24, NIV).

I look at the canvas. I simply do not want to paint this image.

All of a sudden, I realize something that I have not been recognizing for some time

now. A deep need—

“I need to pee.”

I do not mean to be gross. Similar to the apostles at Gethsemane (Matthew 26), in

the midst of the spiritual crossroads, my human-ness overcomes. Frustrated by the entire

situation, I decide to simply go outside behind the barn to relieve myself.

It is interesting to me how often emotional stress is connected to physical stress—

being tired and hungry, or awake and well fed, makes all the difference. After a few

moments, my entire body feels less stressed. My head feels clear.

Walking back to the barn, I pause to take in the sunset. I cannot help but stare.

Grandpa was right—it is going to be AWESOME. The colors of the sky and the clouds are

already beginning to turn into bright shades of pink and orange. It is going to be an

INCREDIBLE. I think a random thought—“If I could paint anything—I would paint that.”

(pause)

“What?”

(pause)

“Surely not.”

(pause)


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“But, how would I…”

(pause)

“I need to paint the sunset.”

My thoughts begin to race—

* * *

DEAD PAINTING RAISED TO LIFE

—first, in the pace an energized cross-country jog, I consider the meaning of such an

image. “How could it possibly connect with my thesis?” I realize that even if I am only painting the

sunset because I think it is beautiful, I will still be able to contrast the difference between an

image I paint for an audience, and an image that I paint for myself. “No, still too scientific. Not

autoethnographic.” Then, the words come back to me—“Paint your methodology” (Ellis, 2004, p.

186).

“Paint Autoethnography.”

“Why does this sunset resonate with me? Very simply, it is God‟s art—there is no image like this. I am

drawn to beauty. And, it is not just any sunset—it is my grandparent‟s sunset. It represents the people that

have walked with me during my journey through Communication Studies, art, and faith. It represents my

journey”.


“Autoethnography is self-reflexive, subjective, evocative, conversational, vulnerable,

emotional…poetic…emergent! When a person stares into a sunset, they think—about the deep things of

life—their life. The colors of the sunset evoke great emotion. The setting of the sun is poetry in motion. (I

realize that I do not have time to think about every element).”



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I start to think specifically about how I can make the painting work, but I notice that

the sun is setting quickly. My jogging thoughts turn into a sprint—“You do not have time to

make a detailed plan. You have to decide now if you are going to paint the sunset—it is setting.”

I sprint to the backdoor of the house. Flinging it open (and totally forgetting to take

off my shoes) I raise my voice—

K: Everyone, come outside, quick!!!

Grandma, Grandpa, and Brynn rush to the back door. Their faces show that they are concerned.

K: Okay, I am fine (pause) but this is kind of an emergency.

GM: Oh, Kent, what did you get on the floor?!

K: (smiling) No—(pause) okay, remember how I said that my plans for the day could

change? Well, I just realized that I need to change my painting—completely. And, I

know what I need to paint. I really don‟t have time to explain, I simply need you to

follow me to the barn. We are about to move everything outside—

I am going to paint the sunset.

Without asking any time consuming questions (I love my family), everyone willingly dives in and begins

putting on their shoes. I rush to the barn and quickly raise the great door that nearly faces the sunset. I

already know exactly where I want to set up the canvas, and I begin rushing supplies about one hundred

yards northwest of the barn, about fifty feet from the long back gate of my grandparents‟ property. Beyond the

gate is farmland and sun.

GP: Kent, do you want us to run some extension cords and lights out there, just in case

you need to paint in the dark?

(pause)


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K: You know, I had not thought about it, but yes. Brynn, I set the camera and voice

recorder on the table after dinner—would you please go get them as well.

I have no idea how long it will take me to paint an image of the sunset, as it sets.

B: Real quick, do you want us to move all of your paints, or just the cups of paint?

I had even poured the cups of paint for the previous, controlled experiment. At this point, I do not know

what is going to come from this emergent process, but I know there is a possibility that I will use more paint

than usual. I will be painting nature in nature, so things may get messy (hopefully).

K: Grandpa and Grandma, do you mind if paint gets on the gravel of the driveway that

leads to the West gate?

They seem to be caught up in the moment.

GM: Oh, no. That will be fine.

GP: No, that‟s not a problem.

They must be caught up in the moment.

K: Grandpa, how much time do you think there is before the sun sets completely?

GP: Oh, probably about thirty minutes.

Again, even though I have an understanding of one of the variables, I do not have any idea how long a

painting like this will take.

We spend the next ten minutes moving drop cloths, cups filled with paint, towels,

sponges, brushes, and a bucket of water. Next, Grandpa and I carry the canvas out of the

barn with the PVC apparatus attached to it, followed by two heavy fertilizer bags to weigh

down the easel. Finally, we attach shop lamps to a six foot ladder, and attach extension

cords to the lamps.

The frantic motion slowly comes to a pause as we realize that everything has been moved.


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For a short time, my mind returns to the moment when I was concrete in the folding

chair. It seems that at the very moment (or even before) I was questioning the providence

and even the reality of God—yet, He provided. I no longer feel dead. I no longer feel

bored. I feel alive. I feel called.

I turn to the group who once again has dropped everything in their lives to help me.

It does not seem to matter to these people why I choose to do what I do. Rather, it seems

that they are simply concerned with loving and supporting me.

I am moved by the selflessness of my loving family to the point of tears.

K: Thank you all so much.

I should take more time to say why I am thankful, but I am simply too excited about the painting.

K: Okay, now…I have to ask you to leave. Um, I really want this image to serve as a

time where I can have a conversation with God.

It always makes me feel a little weird speaking like this in front of my family.

K: I need to be alone.

B: Do you want me to stay and take pictures?

K: No.

I pause—it would be nice to have pictures of this process.

K: I really think that it will be best if I do this by myself.

I feel sad telling this to my wife—I have come to feel so much more complete when she is around.

The three comply and walk back to the house—Brynn is laughing at my frantic nature, and Grandma is

wholeheartedly supporting the situation.

GM: That is going to be a beautiful sunset!

And I am left standing alone,


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Figure 16. Facing God‟s Art, photo by Brynn Mereness (2008).

facing God’s art (Figure 16).

* * *

LIVE PAINTING

I turn on my voice recorder, and begin speaking.

K: Tonight I hit a wall. I was struggling with the idea of wasting a perfectly good

canvas by painting something that I had already painted. I wanted to paint

something that I wanted to paint—something rich, honest, and full of meaning.

During an interesting moment of inspiration, I was moved by the West Texas

sunset—Grandma and Grandpa‟s sunset. As I thought about the meaning of this


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image, I felt that I wanted to paint the sunset, and that I needed to paint the sunset. I

did not, and honestly, I do not know how this step will fit completely with my thesis.

However, I feel called to paint this image.

My first instinct is to paint an exact replica of the sunset that is about to occur.

Because I have seen many sunsets behind my Grandparents house, I realize that

there is usually one brief moment when the sunset is most beautiful. I decide to paint the

shapes and general background colors of the image first. I also decide that when the image

is at its most beautiful point that I will first take a photo of it, for future reference.

However, I hope to totally capture the image without the help of a photo.

I make a rectangle with my hands and hold it up to the sun in order to frame the

image. As usual, I choose to frame the sun in the bottom third of the canvas (the rule of

thirds is something I learned from a good photographer friend). Since I do not know if the

image of the sunset will ultimately stand alone, I decide to try and construct a balanced

composition. Later, if I choose to add other objects to the painting in order to create a more

layered message, the composition of the sunset will still make a very strong background.

* * *

DEAD PAINTING, AGAIN

Next, I sketch off the general shapes of all the objects in view (horizon, sun, clouds)

with watered-down yellow paint. Looking back and forth, from the canvas to the sky, I

realize that the sun is quickly setting, and that the sky is changing a lot faster than I expected. As

the paint hits the pencil lines from the previous image, the light colors become muddy.


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I begin questioning whether or not I have made the right decision. “The previous image

would have been much easier,” I think. “Regardless, I have made the decision. Paint is on the canvas

now.”

I rub black paint into the wet foam of a water soaked sponge, and drag the sponge

about six inches above the base of the canvas. It creates a dark horizon line. Then, I cover

my hands in blue paint and begin filling in the deep blue Texas sky that can be seen through

the breaking clouds. Quickly, I soak a clean white rag and drag it across the dark blue paint,

expecting it to smear. However, it does not smear easily—it is drying faster than I expected

in the open air. I look back to the skyline. “No way!” I am surprised at the progress of the

sun that is now very close to the horizon. I have only been painting for five minutes, but the

sun will easily be at the ideal point in another three or four minutes. I begin to feel

frustrated, but I continue painting. I apply the warm colors of the sky that are close to the

horizon. “Why did I paint the dark areas first, now I am muddying up the paint. Why are these pencil

sketches making everything dark?” Feeling rushed, I begin looking more at the painting and less

at the sky. I begin picking up tones of paint that I think should be in a sunset instead of paint

that matches the colors that are in the sunset. Several minutes later, I look back to the sky—

and I feel guilty. “I told everyone that I was going to paint this sunset, but right now all I am painting my

sunset—and it is horrible!”

I begin feeling very burdened as I realize that even though I do not have an

immediate audience, my family will eventually see, and judge, this image. And, if I am able

to convert this image into a picture that really speaks for my paper, then there is a possibility

that many other people will see this image. In reality, in my heart, I still have an audience.

“Lord, please help me to have an audience of one.”


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I realize, as I pray, that the conversation I was hoping to have with God during the

painting…has not been happening. It has taken all of my energy to simply sketch the sunset

before it disappears. I begin to see that even though I was never given a specific time frame

by a church or a minister, my choice of painting a live sunset has brought about time

pressures that are very similar to the typical Paint Talks performance.

I begin trying to force conversation with God, out loud.

K: God, I want to thank you for my wife. For her health. I want to thank you…

My thoughts trail off as I search for a certain color of paint.

K: Be with me father!

I begin throwing up simple phrases that seem to have less spiritual meaning and more theatrical value (for the

voice recording, and for my paper). I fight an ethical battle in my mind and heart because, deep down, I only

want to speak to God if I mean it. I stop talking and keep painting.

I am working up a sweat—a typical byproduct of a Paint Talks performance.

Performance painting is physically invigorating and physically exhausting at the same time.

My shoulder begins to throb as I do my best to quickly spread the fast-drying paint. I almost

shout an expletive when my sandal gets caught in the drop cloth, and cups of paint spill all

over the tarp. I look up to the sunset, and I look at the image that I am painting—my

painting looks nothing (to me) like the sunset I see. It does not even begin to capture the

majesty of the real image. I have been trying to mimic the smooth light of the image with

smooth strokes, but in doing this I am not using the style that in which I am most

comfortable, and I am still not achieving the look of the actual image. I begin to feel the

heavy weight of perfectionism sinking through my sweaty skin and into my heavy bones as

darkness begins to rest on the plains.


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The sun seems to be at its most beautiful point, but my heart does not feel joyful. I

have seen bolder sunsets in this place, however, because I believe the particular evening‟s

colors are at their peak, I turn on my camera. Looking at the small digital screen on the back

of the device, I frame the same image that I am trying to paint, and I press the button—

“Surely this will ensure that I can paint the image perfectly.”

I continue to paint from the actual sunset for a short while. I do my best to capture

the colors as quickly as possible, but I am not able to apply the paint fast enough. Every

once and a while I am tempted to turn back to the impressionistic style that I use during a

Paint Talks performance, and I begin throwing color on the canvas. But, when I look at the

sunset, I realize that I am painting something that is not there—and I feel blasphemous.

When the sky no longer looks like the image that I took with the camera, I stop

painting from the sunset, and begin painting from the small digital screen. “This is a sad

moment—in the midst of nature, I am painting from a digital image of nature.” My purpose is clear,

however. The still image will allow me to paint the image with perfection. However, after

only a few minutes of painting from the camera, I realize that I am also unable to duplicate

the photograph. I give up.

I begin repeating a simple phrase through the noises of my physical motions and deep breaths.

K: I can‟t do it, God.

I can‟t do it, God.

My body is aching and my mind is hurting. I pause.

K: I can‟t do it, God.


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* * *

DEAD PAINTING RAISED TO LIFE, AGAIN

K: I can’t do it, God.

Staring at the now purple sky, I realize that I have, in a matter of minutes, once again,

been imprisoned by perfectionism. When I had the idea to paint the sunset, I did not think

about painting it exactly, but that is what I ended up trying to do. When I began painting

the image, I did not make a decision to not use artistic license, but somewhere along the line,

I made that rule in my heart. I stand up straight and take a moment, a whole minute, to

breathe in the fresh air that I had somehow forgotten. Somehow, in a matter of minutes, I

had completely forgotten that I was painting an image of nature in nature. “I am in God‟s

beauty—and yet I am limiting myself to seeing that beauty through this stupid camera. I am painting a

representation of his beauty, with the gift he has given me, and somehow I am miserable.” In a matter of

minutes, I had moved from painting to performing. I had moved from painting for God, to

painting for an audience that was not even physically present!

I make another decision.

“Father, I believe. Help me overcome my unbelief. I cannot do this. I cannot paint your sunset.

Please be glorified in my expression of your beauty. I cannot even do that alone—please help me to express

your beauty through the gift you have given me. Please help me to simply paint for you. Be glorified.”

* * *

LIVE PAINTING, AGAIN

Once again, I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders. “This has been an emotional day!”

I give up trying to paint with extreme detail. Rather, I move back to my most natural,

impressionistic style. I begin throwing paint—all over the place. I still realize that others will


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see this image, but my focus is no longer about trying to please them. I still use the image of

the sunset from the camera, to continue painting my image, but I do not feel the burden of

duplicating the image. I feel freedom in my heart. I feel alive, again.

* * *

PAINTING A QUESTION

I paint for almost a whole hour in the dark, under the glow of the shop lamps—time

flies when you feel alive. While I freely complete the image of the sunset, my creative spirit

returns. I brainstorm the possibilities of the meaning that this image might have for my

thesis.

I think about the Scott-Hoy painting (Autoethnography, n.d.), and how it captures so

many of the elements of autoethnography. Then, I look at the image forming in front of

me. Even though much of the image is complete, it is still emerging. Again, I think about the

words “Paint autoethnography.”

I realize that I have been.

I start to realize that the physical paint on the canvas was produced in a time of

honesty and self reflexivity. The physical paint on the canvas captures a moment where I

succumbed to the heavy yoke of perfectionism, but it also captures the moment when I

became broken and asked God to free me. It captures a moment where I witnessed Him

take my imperfection and inadequacy and cover it with His perfectionism and adequacy. I

realize that seeing this pattern of my life is therapeutic for me, and that it might be therapeutic

for others as well. “Paint autoethnography.” Just as Scott-Hoy‟s image is evocative and even

poetic, I believe that the content and style of my painting, the bold colors and strokes, are also

evocative and poetic. “I have been painting autoethnography.”


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I continue to paint and I continue to think. I ponder how I might yet speak an even

deeper message through the image. I wonder if it would be possible to use the painting to

ask the driving question of my thesis: What is the role of the Christian artist in the fundamentalist

Christian church?

I am immediately reminded of my internship with the graphic design firm, and the

importance of using recognizable icons. Images that clearly communicate the culture of

Paint Talks begin forming in my mind, specifically, the image of the fundamentalist Christian

church building. “An icon of a fundamentalist Christian church building would greatly contrast the

spontaneity of this sunset.” I think about the power of placing a two dimensional, white church

building against the colors on the canvas. “No, not white, black and white—in a fundamentalist

church, everything is black and white. And, not only is everything black and white, but in many West

Texas churches, White is often considered right, and leftist politics are considered bad, or dark.‟” I think

about how I might display each of these ideas.

“But, the question is What is the role of the artist in the church? How do I create that image?

What is the icon of the artist?” I think about the obvious icon of the paint brush. But, then I

think about how I am asking a question that pertains to all Christian artists, and all mediums

of art. “What is one thing that all artists have in common? We all have passion for the arts,” no icons

come to mind. “We all desire to express ideas through beauty,” again, no ideas. “We all have bodies.”

I pause. “We all have bodies—some are male, and some are female, but everyone has (it hits me)—

hands. When people think of creation, they think of hands forming the earth.” I look at my hands—

they are messy from creating. “A messy handprint is a symbol for the artist.”

Several moments pass before the idea is completed. I race to the barn looking for a

knife and a big piece of cardboard.


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* * *

I decide not to attach the completed cardboard image—not yet. Rather, I hide it in

the barn, and walk back to the painting—“It will not be long till I have visitors.”

Half way to the glowing canvas, I hear the voice of my wife.

B: (quietly) Kent?

K: It is okay—come take a look.

Brynn approaches the light.

B: (silence)

Typically, I would hate this pause, and it still makes my heart sink a little—but, overall, I am still at peace.

K: What do you think?

B: It‟s good, Kent.

I try to not look too deeply into her hesitant response. Simultaneously, I hear Grandma and Grandpa

walking up the gravel behind us. When they get to where we are standing, they also pause.

K: Hey.

GM: That‟s pretty Kent. Wasn‟t the sunset so pretty?

I can tell by both of the verbal responses that the audience was expecting something different. Something

moves deep within me to speak up, to apologize, to say what I am still going to do with the image. I feel my

perfectionism creeping back—

—and I choose to not let it win.

K: (changing the subject) Well, it is time to clean up. Would you all mind giving me

another hand?

Actually, Grandpa has already started gathering the extension cords. Again, everyone quietly drops

everything they are doing to help me. In the commotion of the cleaning, Brynn recognizes that I am not


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thrilled with the responses. Not knowing exactly what to say, and trying not to say anything cliché (she

knows I how much I hate fluff), she simply touches my arm.

B: It‟s finished!

K: Yeah.

I take a deep breath.

* * *

CLEANING UP

One of the most dejecting moments of a Paint Talks performance takes place

immediately after the last stroke of the brush. It is true that when you are an adult, you have

to clean up your own mess. Typically, I am fortunate if I can find anyone after a

performance that is willing to help. Thankfully, when my wife is around, my least favorite

part of the cleanup is her favorite—she actually enjoys taking apart the PVC easel.

Therefore, once everything is moved back into the well lit barn, and after my Grandpa and I

carefully remove the canvas from the easel, Brynn begins using the electric screw gun to

disassemble the frame (I think she simply likes the power tools).

I am appreciative of the way that my Grandpa gently handles the paint covered

canvas. He treats it much like an honest and ethical person would treat a piece of modern

art—even though they do not claim to understand it, they acknowledge and respect that it

holds great value to someone.

We gently lean the canvas against the barn wall.

GP: How long do you think that it will take to dry?

K: You know it is probably already completely dry.

GP: Do you want to cover it?


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K: No, (pause) I have one more thing that I want to do to the image after we finish

cleaning up.

GM: Surely you‟re not going to paint on it any more tonight?

K: No—I am done painting. But, I have a simple addition when everything else is said

and done.

We continue cleaning up the mess.

Once the PVC is disassembled and placed back into the snowboard bag , and the

unused supplies are put away, and the used sponges and the rags and drop cloths are thrown

away, (I wonder how much money I could have saved on sponges and rags and drop cloths if I would have

taken the time to clean them, and reuse them? I don‟t like being wasteful, but typically , after a painting, I

am simply too tired for meticulous cleaning.), the final step is to clean the paint brushes. I walk

outside and through the darkness to a spigot by Grandpa‟s old corral.

When I return to the barn, Brynn is the only one waiting. My Grandparents have headed inside to

catch the 10:00 news—tradition runs deep at this house.

B: Are you finished?

K: Well, I have one last thing to add to the painting, if you want to see.

B: Sure!

I pull out two folding chairs and set them in front of the painting. As Brynn sits down, I walk to the corner

of the Barn where the six foot tall cardboard cutout is leaning. I tear and roll several pieces of masking tape,

and attach them to the back of the miniature church building.

B: What is that?

K: Just wait.


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I walk the cardboard to the canvas. Seeing that the image is dry, I affix the object to the painting, and return

to the empty chair. Brynn stares at the image in silence.

K: What does it make you think?

* * *

And, I ask you, the reader, what does it make you think?

(turn the page)


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Figure 17. Autoethnography of Paint Talks, Kent Mereness (2008).


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* * *

REFLECTING

When I began this thesis project, I was overwhelmed (whelmed as my wife likes to say)

by the epic task of asking BIG questions concerning communication, art, and faith, and by

the epic task of documenting seven years of Paint Talks processes and performances. After

painting Autoethnography of Paint Talks (Figure 17), I actually feel that I am much better

equipped to talk about both. Perhaps I feel this way because I am an artist, and for me,

seeing is (often) believing. Deep down, I believe that the final painting more effectively

captures the essence of Paint Talks and the primary question, What is the role of the artist in the

fundamentalist Christian church?, than the entire written thesis. I feel this way, because the final

painting is emergent—every time I look at it I see and hear something new.

* * *

…ON PAINTING

The creation of Autoethnography of Paint Talks was much closer to the actual Paint

Talks experience than I had expected. Of course, I realized that the thesis painting canvas

was a six by eight foot Paint Talks canvas, and that the easel, drop cloths, cups, paints,

brushes, sponges, towels, and bucket were identical to the items used in a Paint Talks

performance. I also realized that the setup and cleanup would be exactly the same.

However, while I did not expect the typical audience and time constraint of Paint Talks—they

existed. Even though a live audience was not present during the painting, I still very much

painted for one—at least at the beginning, I painted for Brynn, my grandparents, and the

eventual readers of this thesis. And, even thought I was not painting in a timed church

service, my time was still governed, this time by the (quick) setting of the sun.


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Knowing the similarity between the creative process of painting Autoethnography of

Paint Talks and the creative process of the typical Paint Talks performance is meaningful,

because the product of each performance is very different—and, by product, I do not simply mean

the image. I also mean the message. The image Autoethnography of Paint Talks speaks a very

different message than the typical Paint Talks performance. I am greatly challenged by the

thesis painting. It reveals to me that Paint Talks can lead people to more than an “ah-ha”

moment, and more than a single moment of discovery. Paint Talks is a tool that can be used to

ask BIG questions. Even more, it is a tool that can be used to challenge an audience to

devote time and thought to seeking and answering difficult questions.

Recently, I showed the Paint Talks images of this thesis to a professor of Bible from

Lubbock Christian University. He had never seen me paint. As I showed him the typical

Paint Talks images, he congratulated me—half heartedly. However, when I showed him

Autoethnography of Paint Talks, his tone changed. Full of energy and ideas, he looked me in

the eye and stated, “Kent, this is what you need to paint.”

Now, the question is, What BIG question should I paint next?

* * *

…ON THE SUNSET

The sunset represents God. It is beyond comprehension. It cannot be captured in

time and space. It is seen by what it illuminates. It is alive, moving, bright, and colorful, but,

all in all, it is beyond comprehension.

The sunset also represents the truth that God is God, and I am not. The actual paint

that makes up the background image of the sunset is the paint that I was touching,

spreading, smearing, rubbing, flicking, and throwing while I was personally battling the


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depths of my perfectionism. At the beginning of the painting, I had an air of confidence in

my voice as I attempted to paint an exact replication of God‟s sunset. By the middle and

end of my time in front of the thesis canvas, well into the dark of the night, the phrase that I

repeated over and over was “I can‟t do it, God.” To me, the dried paint on the canvas still

physically captures that moment—and it is a perfect moment to me. It is a moment of truth

to me.

The sunset also has personal, symbolic value.

* * *

This is my Grandparent‟s sunset.

This is the sun that set on my brothers and me as we played in the sandbox.

This is the sun that descended while I fished with Grandma in the pond down the road

from the house, by the old wooden barn.

This is the sun that set on the grassy fields that I was shredding for four dollars an hour in

Grandpa‟s John Deere tractor.

This is the sun that descended behind softball games played after Sunday night church.

This is the sun that set on Grandpa and me as we built birdhouses the barn.

This is the sun that descended on many lighthearted conversations shared over many pieces

of Grandma‟s one of a kind lemon meringue pie.

This is the sun that set on joyful Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, and Christmas holidays.

This is my Grandparent‟s sunset.

* * *

I was actually tempted to re-do the final image of the sunset of this painting. I had

photographs of the actual sunset, and I had plenty of leftover paint. But, to me, the sunset


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of this particular image is perfect. It is not a perfect duplicate of God‟s sunset, but it is God‟s

art—I am His creation, and this painting is His creation‟s representation of His art.

* * *

…ON THE CHURCH

The church building from Autoethnography of Paint Talks captures the simplicity of the

visual in the world of fundamentalist Christian churches. The icon is simple, representing

walls, a pitched roof, a steeple, and a crucifix. Because function is beautiful in this world, the

shape of the icon is symmetrical, and the base of the image is composed of two right angles.

The image of the church is also divided into two halves—the left is black and the

right is white. As I have mentioned, in the churches where I grew up, almost every situation

had a black and white answer—a clear right or a clear wrong was determined by the specific

congregation‟s interpretation of Scripture. Furthermore, most of the West Texas

fundamentalist Christian churches that I attended consisted mostly of conservatives. Ideas

of the left side of politics were considered as wrong—the left side was the dark side. Moving

from politics to ethnicity and gender, ideas from White men were the driving ideas of the

congregations I attended, and therefore, White was seen as right.

I repent of the times where I believed this idea.

When I originally constructed the icon of the fundamentalist Christian church, I

placed a removable crucifix at the top of the image. Sometime after completing thesis

painting, I realized that if I truly wanted to convey the idea of the fundamentalist Christian

church that often steers away from the image, I knew that I needed to remove the cross.


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So, I did.

And, something interesting happened (Appendix H).

After I removed the cross, the icon no longer looked like a church.

Now, I am well aware that the discussion of the arts and the Church does not

revolve around whether or not a Church affixes a cross to its building. However, I find an

interesting parallel between the removal of the cross from Autoethnography of Paint Talks and

the driving question of this thesis. As mentioned, Francis A. Schaeffer (1982) reveals that

humanity without the arts is incomplete. Therefore, the reality is, if the church removes or

squelches the arts, or if they simply fail to encourage the artist, they are incomplete. This

leads me to two very important questions:

What implications does this have for people in the church?

What implications does this have for people that want to be part of the church?

I believe that artists who are a part of the Church, but are not encouraged by the

church, will continue to struggle to understand if their abilities are truly gifts, and they will

continue to struggle to understand how to use their gifts to benefit the body and to bring

God glory. I believe that members of Churches that steer away from the arts, even members

that are not artistic, will continue to exist in communities that are lacking beautiful historical

and contemporary bonds, cultural cohesion, which the arts create. I believe, perhaps most

importantly, that people who desire to know Christ, people that would otherwise desire to

be a part of the Body of Christ, will look on Churches that do not embrace the arts—as

incomplete, and possibly, in-human.

I hope that the fundamentalist Christian church, as a whole, will eventually

prayerfully embrace the arts. In the meantime, I pray, when people who do not know Christ


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look upon the fundamentalist Christian church, they still, by the grace of God, somehow see

and come to know God the Creator.

* * *

…ON THE ARTIST’S HAND

The handprint, located in the middle of the fundamentalist Christian church building

icon, is my enlarged handprint. I am only one Christian painter among many types of

Christian artists, but (I say this with humility) I am a Christian artist—therefore, the

handprint represents the Christian artist.

Regardless of what people believe the role of the Christian artist should be—artists

exist in the church. Artists exist in the fundamentalist Christian church. And, it has been my

experience that artists of many different types exist in every fundamentalist Christian

congregation. The handprint, therefore, reveals this unavoidable and diverse presence.

It also reveals the typical silence of the Christian artist that has not been encouraged

by the Church. The handprint is not a bold painting—it is a group of holes in a piece of

cardboard—it is an empty space. Many times the bold voice of the artist is silenced because

they have not been shown how to use that voice by the greater body of believers.

As revealed (earlier) by Frankie Schaeffer (1990), good art always speaks truth. So, if

the church is not encouraging the voice of the artist, they are not encouraging a unique voice

of truth. What is the truth that the artist reveals? Again, the artist‟s handprint is not painted

on church icon—it is cut out of the icon, and it reveals the sunset. The Christian artist

serves as a unique window into Heaven—allowing the world, and the Church, to see the

beauty and creativity of God in a special way. They also allow the light of God to shine into

the Church in a unique way, honestly bringing to light the good and evil truths of this world.


197

And, the Christian artist offers a clear view of reality—of man, nature, and God in proper

perspective (Schaeffer, 1977).

The colorful handprint reveals that, aesthetically, the artist brings a personal touch of

creative color and beauty into often otherwise drab and colorless Church buildings. But,

even further, the human handprint shows how the artist brings about a soft sense of sense of

humanity, and community, into an often rigid group of people. Artists are not, by any

means, soft—but, it is well known that art generates a sense of community and a sense of

culture among people.

Finally, if the handprint is said to be from a left hand, then it represents how the

artist is reaching from the Church and towards God—seeking truth. But, if the handprint is

said to be from a right hand (and, I did make the image with my right hand), then it

represents something completely different. I believe, from my personal experience as a

Christian artist, and from my knowledge of other Christian artists, that very simply—we need

the Church.

I believe that the typical Christian artist is grappling for direction, for support, for

encouragement, and for love from the body of Christ. I believe they are desperately

reaching out with messy hands to grasp the strong arms of their Christian sisters and

brothers.

At least, I know that I am.


198

* * *

...ON AUTOETHNOGRAPHY

I see every quality of autoethnography (Stowe, 2005; Pelias, 2004; Ellis, 2004;

Richardson, 2000) in the writing of this thesis, but, even more, I see every quality of

autoethnography in the image Autoethnography of Paint Talks.

* * *

Self-reflexive. I still battle perfectionism.

Subjective. I am a fundamentalist Christian artist.

Evocative. Warm Colors, Spontaneous Strokes, Bold Ideas.

Conversational. What does it say to you?

Vulnerable. My faults are permanently on this canvas.

Emotional. I can‟t do it, God.

Poetic. Red to orange to yellow to green to blue to violet.

Emergent. I see and hear something new, every time.

Therapeutic. For the fundamentalist Christian, for the Christian artist.

Difficult. Emotionally, Physically, Spiritually.

* * *

I believe that Paint Talks has always been, and will continue to be, autoethnography.

* * *

...ON ASKING BIG QUESTIONS

“I am drawn to writing that isn‟t afraid to ask the big questions about life, and to writing that links those

big questions to how I can understand my life in this cosmos, on this blue planet, a bit bet ter”

(Goodall, 2000, p. 187)


199

The purpose of this thesis has always been to ask BIG questions—the purpose has

never been to find FINAL answers. Hopefully this thesis has created, and continually creates,

conversation with communication scholars, with artists, and with people of faith. For me, the

painting Autoethnography of Paint Talks reveals an emerging response to the question What is

the role of the artist in the fundamentalist Christian church?

But, what about you? Hopefully this thesis represents, not only the reflexivity of the

writer, but the reader. Therefore, I choose to close this work with three BIG questions—

for you.

First,

What has this work revealed to you about communication, art, and faith?

Second,

What BIG questions do you still have about life?

Third, and finally,

Is autoethnography calling you?


200

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APPENDIX A

PAINT TALKS ACRYLIC AND BLACK LIGHT IMAGES

Figure 18. The Beautiful Collision acrylic painting. Figure 19. The Beautiful Collision black light painting.

Figure 20. Death to Life acrylic painting. Figure 21. Death to Life black light painting.


208

Figure 22. Faithfulness acrylic painting. Figure 23. Faithfulness black light painting.

Figure 24. Do Not Fear acrylic painting. Figure 25. Do Not Fear black light painting.


209

Figure 26. The Light acrylic painting. Figure 27. The Light black light painting.

Figure 28. Money is Fleeting acrylic painting. Figure 29. Money is Fleeting black light painting.


210

Figure 30. What are these Hands for? acrylic painting. Figure 31. What are these Hands for? black light painting.

Figure 32. Let Go! acrylic painting. Figure 33. Let Go! black light painting.


211

APPENDIX B

PAINT TALKS ACRYLIC MULTI-POINT IMAGES

Figure 34. Bread of Life. Figure 35. Christmas Gift.

Figure 36. Your Word is Beautiful.

Figure 37. Focus, Fruit, Fidelity. Figure 38. Water, Wind, Fire, Stone. Figure 39. See, Touch.

Figure 40. What a Fellowship. Figure 41. Multi-point Black Light Painting.


212

APPENDIX C

PAINT TALKS IN PROCESS

Figure 42. Color. Figure 43. Blackout. Figure 44. Planets.

Figure 45. Light. Figure 46. Explosion. Figure 47. The Beautiful Collision.

Figure 48. Desert. Figure 49. Death. Figure 50. Stream.

Figure 51. Life. Figure 52. Death to Life.


213

Figure 53. Green. Figure 54. Dollar bill. Figure 55. Worship.

Figure 56. Burning. Figure 57. Is it worth it? Figure 58. Money is Fleeting.

Figure 59. Sea and Sky. Figure 60. Sea Details. Figure 61. Rock details.

Figure 62. Lighthouse. Figure 63. Troubled Sea. Figure 64. Do not Fear.


214

APPENDIX D

SPECIALTY PAINT TALKS IMAGES

PLEXIGLAS

Figure 65. Adulterous Woman cover pencil and pen sketch. Figure 66. Adulterous Woman final acrylic painting.

Figure 67. The Prodigal cover pencil and pen sketch. Figure 68. The Prodigal final acrylic painting.


215

MIRROR

Figure 69. Greatest Gift cover pencil and pen sketch. Figure 70. Greatest Gift mirror.

PAINTING ONLY

Figure 71. Jesus is the Light acrylic painting.


216

12’ THEMATIC IMAGES

Figure 72. Extreme. Figure 73. You Wanna Be a Star? Figure 74. No More Lies.

Figure 75. Thematic Image

black light painting.


217

APPENDIX E

ADDITIONAL PAINT TALKS IMAGES

Figure 76. Child. Figure 77. Potter‟s Hands. Figure 78. Shipwreck. Figure 79. Soldier.

Figure 80. It is in You #1. Figure 81. It is in You #2. Figure 82. Darkness. Figure 83. The King.

Figure 84. Strength. Figure 85. Lion. Figure 86. Newborn.

Figure 87. Lighthouse #1. Figure 88. Lighthouse #2.


218

APPENDIX F

FIRST PAINT TALKS BLACK LIGHT IMAGE

Figure 89. Shield pencil and pen sketch.


219

APPENDIX G

FIRST PAINT TALKS IMAGE

Figure 90. Break the Chains charcoal and pastel drawing.


220

APPENDIX H

THESIS PAINTING

Figure 91. Autoethnography of Paint Talks with cross.

Figure 92. Autoethnography of Paint Talks without cross.


PERMISSION TO COPY

In presenting this thesis in partial fulfillment of the requirements for a master‟s

degree at Texas Tech University or Texas Tech University Health Sciences Center, I agree

that the Library and my major department shall make it freely available for research

purposes. Permission to copy this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the

Director of the Library or my major professor. It is understood that any copying or

publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my further written

permission and that any user may be liable for copyright infringement.

Agree (Permission is granted.)

Kent L. Mereness July 31, 2008 ________________________________________________ ________________

Student Signature Date

Disagree (Permission is not granted.)

_______________________________________________ _________________ Student Signature Date

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