No More Borders: Revelation 21 series

Just finished this painting of "no more borders" for my Revelation 21 series of paintings. Revelation 21, in the Bible, images a world liberated from hunger, death, pain, sorrow, etc. This is an extrapolation of the ideal vision of God's future world without borders.

Stanley Mouse: Lowbrow Artist of Monster T-Shirts and Psychedelic Posters

Growing up in Southern California in the 50s and 60s and I was early into Kustom Kar Culture, as were many other kids. I remember really getting into the airbrushed Monster hot rod t-shirts of Ed "Big Daddy" Roth and Stanley Mouse and sending for catalogs of their shirts, which I still own!

Some would attribute the origin of monster t-shirts to Roth, though while Roth worked in black and white Mouse was working in bright colors. They even met at a hot rod show and Roth told Mouse he could show him how to make $300 in a few hours, which he did. Roth took home his catalogs full of monsters and later came up with Rat Fink, his anti-Mickey Mouse character, that looked strangley like Mouse's monsters.

Mouse took his cheese, left Detroit and art school, and moved to San Francisco in 1965 right before the flowering of the hippie movement. With places like the Fillmore West and the Avalon Ballroom holding rock concerts posters became not only a form of advertisement but a psychedelic art form. Mouse, along with his partner Alton Kelley,created countless posters, including Art Nouveau style with a few, like the the skeleton and roses Grateful Dead poster, becoming an icon of the Dead and the times.

Though his work slowed after the poster years Mouse has continued to produce memorable artwork from album covers for Journey to "lowbrow" paintings. Mouse will always have a place in my early art history.

A Veteran's Reflection

I was drafted into the U.S. Army when I was 20 years old in 1969. I had been living the lifestyle of a hippie rock musician and artist in L.A. I knew that I would be ridiculed for my long hair when I was processed in at Fort Ord, California, so I got a buzz hair cut before I went in. My hair was the shortest on the bus that transported us young draftees to Fort Ord.

The moment I got off the bus I knew I was in an alien environment. A drill sergeant was yelling at us to get off the bus, calling us “maggots” (a derogatory name for a new recruit), and demanding that we stand at attention in formation. We went to get our olive drab fatigues (uniforms), haircuts (They shaved off what little fuzz I had left), and bunk (bed) assignments. I was in a strange place with people I didn’t know at a place I didn’t choose and didn’t want to be. My first night away from friends and family was depressing.

Since I was a conscientious objector I was sent to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas to be trained as a medic. My basic training was two weeks shorter (6 weeks) than regular basic (8 weeks), since our company of medics didn’t have rifle training. My company was made up of Pentecostals, Seventh-Day Adventists, Jehovah’s Witnesses, religious groups with pacifism in their history, as well as others who were simply assigned to become medics.

Each morning began with running to and from breakfast. For some reason all our Army food seemed to make a “plop” sound as it was scooped into our trays. Running after breakfast nauseated me. We ran everywhere we went. I guess it was part of our physical training. But, we had to make sure that we stopped running to salute a superior officer or we would end up on the ground doing any number of push ups for our infraction of the rules of Army hierarchy. This was part of our indoctrination into the chain of command and setting us up to obey the rules of the system.

Physical training was daily, prolonged, and grueling. It involved running, various squats, push ups, and the worst of all, holding our legs off the ground until some of us were crying like babies. I particularly felt sorry for those who were overweight and couldn’t hold their legs up for very long. While we were moaning and groaning, the drill sergeant would yell, “This soldier here is making you keep your legs up longer!” This caused the group to begin to turn on the poor guy who was out of shape and yell at him. It was group psychological tactic to get us to come together as one body and not allow anyone to deviate from the norm.

Although I went into the Army as a conscientious objector, I could see how the training techniques were designed to form us a group and to get us to act without conscience or thought, but upon sheer command. We, young 18, 19, 20 year olds, were being shaped to become fodder in the U.S. war in Southeast Asia, a case of failed U.S. foreign policy, American exceptionalism, and imperial muscle flexing.

I have seen similar group psychological techniques, whether intentional or not, being used on the general public with the war in Iraq. The media has been used as a tool to support the war through its avoidance of showing the realities of war and “embedding” reporters with the U.S. Army. Those who deviate from the “norm” of support for the war were not that long ago called “unpatriotic” and “supporters of the terrorists.” The idea is to get the public to conform, to “fall in line” and simply obey the “authorities” and support U.S. foreign policy.

How do people, especially those who might consider becoming peacemakers, find their way in such a strange environment? We live in an social environment where the pressure to conform is intense. How does anyone follow the peaceful way of Christ, when others might call you “coward,” or pressure you to conform to the “rules” of vengeance and “pay back”? How do you avoid using the violence of words against those who do not seem to fit in with the dominant ethos of violence in our society?

It’s not easy, but there are paths of peace amid the crooked roads of violence. There are alternatives to using the violence of words and weapons. There are companions in the church, like those I found even in the Army, who can help you navigate the rough waters and alien environments. There is a God, who guides us in the paths of peace, even when we find ourselves walking (or running?) through strange places.

Ched Myers: Artisan of Social Change

Just finished an ink drawing of friend Ched Meyers, theological animator with Bartimaeus Cooperative Ministries (http://bcm-net.org/), for my Artisans of Social Change Series. This drawing is the first entry on my new blog, leosart at: http://leosart.wordpress.com

Happy Halloween! from the de Leon-Hartshorn Family

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

Brom: Illustrator of the Macabre

Since starting my blog for Halloween I have done an entry featuring an artist who illustrates the dark side. My last two entries for Halloween were Laurie Lipton and Chris Mars. For Halloween 2010 I offer you Brom an illustrator from Seattle, Washington, who started working professionally at age 20. He paints in classic Frank Frazetta fantasy style, but adds a dark, gothic twist with macabre subject matter. Brom was concept artist for one of my favorite movies Van Helsing. His artwork has been published in two books Darkwerks and Offerings. Here are some of his dark works.

Drumming in the Basement, 2000, Lancaster, PA

Motorcycling as Meditation

There is nothing quite like riding a motorcycle along an isolated country road with the cornstalks waving in the breeze or next to huge rocky mountains with a waterfall lightly spraying you as you pass. Over the past four years I have had the pleasurable experience of the wind in my face as I have cruised out in nature on my motorcycle. Although I’ve always wanted a bike, but never could afford one, I now wish I would have bought one much sooner. Cruising on my bike is not like anything else I have ever done. Oh, I once had a Lambretta scooter that I road to high school for a couple of years and a Honda 150cc that I rode to work for another couple of years, but at those times bike riding was more utilitarian, that is, it got me from point A to point B for another purpose beside the sheer joy of riding.

With a larger bike (Honda VTX 1300cc) that I use mainly for pleasure I have had a totally different experience of riding. I now consider motorcycle riding a sacred practice. I’m not saying that just because I have been a “revvvvrend” for 37 years. Nor do I consider motorcycle riding as sacred because when I ride I have religious thoughts. At one time in my life things what I considered “sacred” were most often “religious” things like praying, going to church, and reading the Bible. My concept of what is “sacred” has broadened quite a bit since my earlier days as a minister. That is probably due not only to being a creative soul, a non-traditional thinker, and someone who as of late feels somewhat disconnected from church and traditional concepts of God, but also because I can no longer box in the sacred, set boundaries for the transcendent, or find the holy exclusively in religiously prescribed places.

Don’t get me wrong. There is a place for traditional religious practices. I have engaged in many of these practices for a long time, such as traditional prayer, devotional Bible reading, lectio divina, journaling, spiritual direction, silent meditation, and on and on. I have also experimented with some more non-traditional spiritual practices, such as walking a labyrinth, drumming meditation, drumming the labyrinth, reflecting on icons, and using art in meditation. But, more recently none of these practices have been quite like motorcycling as a form of meditation.

It’s not like I set out to ride my motorcycle as a means of meditation. Rather my sense that motorcycling can be a form of meditation emerged from the actual experience of riding. My longer, less utilitarian rides are usually out in the country amidst nature. The motorcycle gives a direct experience of the sights, smells, and senses of the environment (and at times bugs and bad smells!). This part of what bikers refer to as the feeling of “freedom” when riding a bike on an open road going wherever they want to go with an unobstructed view.

Nature is a “natural” conduit for experiencing awe, wonder, and the sacred. Early human experience of the divine was probably connected with a more direct relationship they had with the natural elements than we have today. This makes me wonder whether the disconnection between humans and nature with industrialization, urbanization, and a technological culture plays a role in the secularization, rationalization, and disenchantment of everyday life and experience in our modern Western world.

When I ride my motorcycle along the winding roads of the Gorge along the Columbia River near Portland, Oregon under a dome of blue sky, even when things are not going that well, my life is reframed within a larger picture of the world and the cosmos. It is an immediate visual, iconic message that is sensed and cannot be put into words, thus it has a contemplative character to it. I may not even be thinking of God or trying to label the experience as I absorb the presence of nature on a ride. It doesn’t require words or thinking religious thoughts. I believe that the old biker saying, “If I have to explain it, you wouldn’t understand,” captures something of what I’m talking about. Though bikers might not be thinking in mystical terms, there is something about the love of biking and the experience of riding on an open road that is beyond words. At the same time, I believe there is something slightly mystical about contemplative cruising.

What I’m inadequately trying to explain is probably best not put in words, but experienced. Maybe that old biker saying is really a wisdom proverb or a zen koan of a lone mystic, a sage rider, who understood that motorcycling is meditation, cruising is contemplation, and that “if I have to explain it, you wouldn’t understand.” I think I’ll quit trying to explain it and just go for a ride.

Rev. Dr. Leo Hartshorn has been a Christian minister for 38 years and a motorcycle enthusiast over the past four years. He currently lives in Portland, Oregon and on a sunny day can be found cruising the Gorge along the Columbia River.