gatherings

about gatherings

2011-09-18T17:36:00.001-07:00

To learn more, go here.

To see images of the dress, go here.
... of drawings, go here.

I'll be
speaking at the Andy Warhol Museum
on Sat Jan 21 at 2pm
4th floor galleries
re: the Word of God: Jeffrey Vallance exhibition,
and this project, gatherings,
and the (complicated) relationship between the sacred and the secular, and the idea of purposeful collections

with Carole Brueckner
head docent at St. Anthony's Chapel, Troy Hill
which houses the largest public collection of relics in the World (over 5000 relics)
(my 65th visit)
http://www.warhol.org/webcalendar/event.aspx?id=5175#ixzz1ih4czC7m

Also, I am showing 5 drawings and 5 photographs from this project in
a group show.
Anyone and everyone is welcome.

Distillate
curated by Meghan Olson & Kara Skylling
• Opening Reception: Fri Jan 13 6-9 pm
• Cultural District Gallery Crawl: Fri Jan 27 5:30-9 pm
...Runs through Feb 4

at Future Tenant Gallery
819 Penn Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA, 15222

one hundredth visit: Oct 4th 2011 Presbyterian

2011-09-18T17:31:00.004-07:00

12:25pm tuesday
First Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh
320 Sixth Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15222
downtown, central business district

Today's count of worshipers wearing Steelers garb while worshiping: 
2 in jackets with Steelers logos
FINAL Total for this entire project: 43
(running totals here)

Several friends have asked me if gatherings' 100th visit will be a grand finale of sorts. Is the 100th of anything ever otherwise? First Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh: In a project that vows not to play favorites, it makes sense to me that this 100th visit serves to ground (myself). As mentioned in my 90th visit, I was raised Presbyterian, and this last visit serves to bookend my 3-2-1 Presby countdown. To end where I once started, long, long ago. (And to note: except for this year, I have not regularly attended a place(s) of worship for 22 years.)

And to end at First Presby, in a city that is sometimes referred to as The Presbyterian City. Not to champion a particular belief... I'll let you research to find all the reasons why.

Along the way, someone had told me that this is also the oldest worship building within Pgh proper. (Beulah being slightly outside Pgh city limits.) This would add to the appropriateness of this 100th visit, but it's not the case. Alas, this building (1905) is just 5 yrs older than our house. Does not make it any less grand though, with its 13 Tiffany windows, each one over two stories tall (26 ft). And the congregation does go back 224 years, and 5 days, exactly. Just 5 years younger than the reported oldest congregation in Pittsburgh (my 46th visit).

Downtown, FPCP stands right next door to Trinity Cathedral where the Blessing of the Artists took place last week (97th visit). It's a little difficult to tell where one building ends and the next begins. Especially when staring upward at the tangle of stone steeples. In fact, the stairs that lead to First Presby's front door are the same that are used to enter Trinity's admin offices.

So for a million reasons, out of Pgh's 3000 possible places of worship, this seems right, for today. I am attending "Tuesday Boost," a thirty-minute, non-denominational Christian service. Here, downtown employees spend their lunch break at FPCP pondering contemporary issues of faith's place in the workplace.

The sermon: We find ourselves in unexpected places—places sometimes we'd rather not be—in order to search for and point to the truth.

I've mentioned that I teach a painting class called Obsessions. I give readings. Last February, during a class discussion, a student, Jason, brought up this passage from one of the readings: "...for I have one desire in life, the truth, and one purpose, to make the most of truth." (Lennard J. Davis, Obsession: a History, p.108) "I read that," Jason said, "and realized that's what I'm doing through art. To me, that made sense." In the silence that followed, you could feel the energy of 19 creative minds mulling that over.

Just 3 days later I was home, going through a stack of old articles I had saved, but never read. In a book review by Jon Meacham I came across this sentence “The search for truth—about the visible and the invisible—is perhaps the most fundamental of human undertakings, ranking close behind the quests for warmth, food and a mate.” And because I am an obsessive teacher, of course I emailed the student.

I'd been waiting for the moment that this story would find it's place in gatherings. I had almost resigned to the fact that perhaps I would have to write a separate conclusion. Perhaps not. Thank you, Reverend Tom at visit number 100, who, from the pulpit, declares:

"We find ourselves in unexpected places—places sometimes we'd rather not be—in order to search for and point to the truth." An artist drawing in a pew.

Of course there are a handful of exceptions to what I'm about to say, but here goes:
The ritual of attending worship service, and the ritual of making art;
in the end, I see these as two very different ways of pursuing truth. Too different in today's world, I suspect, for most to simultaneously take both paths. One comes with a preexisting structured philosophy; the other asks you to sort that out on your own, along with everything else. So, with exceptions, of course, artists often choose one way, and the pious another, in our pursuit of making sense of life and the world around us. And some day, with effort from both sides, maybe it will be possible for both groups to set aside judgment and consistently approach each other with the openness that those in these 100 establishments have generally approached me. Maybe.

ninety-ninth visit: Oct 2nd 2011 Sikhism

2011-09-18T17:31:00.003-07:00

11:00am sunday
Pittsburgh Sikh Gurdwara
4407 McKenzie Dr, Monroeville PA 15146
 monroeville   

On Pittsburgh Sikh Gurdwara's website:
"People of all religious backgrounds, including atheists and agnostics, are welcome at a Gurdwara [Sikh temple]."
 Non-Sikh visitors are able to fully experience and take part in worship; their participation is seen as wholly valid.  

A lot of people have commented to me that they know almost nothing about Sikhism. (Many Pittsburghers did not know that there was a temple in the area, either.) If you are interested, I've included a list of a few basic beliefs of Sikhism at the bottom of this post...

 So, the best thing about Indian Standard Time is that you are never late to Temple. The worst thing about Indian Standard Time is that if your husband is Indian, you will always be waiting for him until you decide to join the movement. And if you don't join the movement and you arrive at the temple on time (on your own), you are gifted 45 minutes of drawing time. Win-win.  

I add my shoes to the collection by the door. When entering a Gurdwara, it is considered disrespectful if anyone, regardless of your belief, does not bow at the alter, and leave an offering of money, flowers or food. I leave a vase of flowers, 'mums from our yard. There are about 10 other people in the room. Some are reading to themselves silently. I choose a spot where mothers are sitting with their children, playing with Play-Doh.

I draw.   After 45 minutes, others are arriving. The mothers and children have left, and I realize I'm sitting on the males' side. I move to the opposite. My knees (especially my right one) are sore from sitting cross-legged on the floor. While sitting, I stretch my legs out to my left. Soon a man approaches me, asks how I am doing. Tells me very gently that I must have no way of knowing, but it is a sign of disrespect if I point my feet toward the alter, and also my body must at all times directly face the alter, where the Guru Granth Sahib (scriptures) are kept. I apologize and thank him for telling me. So much to learn, even after 98 visits.  

The service consists primarily of singing, with an interlude of a sermon spoken in Gurmukhi. (Structure of this service is identical to the Krishna Consciousness (48th visit), and Hindu-Jain (79th visit), services I attended.) Two musicians are at work, to the right of the alter: a tabla player and a harmonium-ist. One also happens to be the priest (or Gyaniji) . Hymns are sung in Gurmukhi; lyrics are projected in the form of 1) phonetic syllables, 2) Gurmukhi script and 3) English translation. One phrase that sticks with me: "You are me and I am you—what is the difference between us?"  

I want to learn to play the harmonium.  

At the end of the service, karah prasad is offered to each congregant. The concept is the same as prasad in a Hindu service (14th visit, 7th paragraph), but, as opposed to fruit or a rice dish, here prasad always is a warmed mixture of butter, sugar and flour. It reminds me of warmed, raw cookie dough. Which I like very much. It also reminds me of the candy that is passed to children at the end of Jewish services, so that children associate worship with sweetness.

After service, two teens (adorably) ask if I would like to meet the priest. Introductions. I explain gatherings. He welcomes me warmly and offers me a place to sit for Langar.

What is Langar? Congregants sit in lines, side by side, shoulder to shoulder for a meal. Besides providing nourishment, this meal exists to break social boundaries. All of us eat seated on the floor at the same level, with no regard to caste, race, creed, and rank. Servers (who are also worshipers) walk up and down the lines, offering different dishes, laddling these from large pots into our individual metal thali-pans: lentils, cauliflower, rice, raita and nan. When my husband later hears about this, he is a bit jealous. With reason. Also, by definition there is never a charge for the meal, and it is always vegetarian.

I talk with the woman next to me. I feel badly, but I don't remember her name well enough to try to to spell it here. She asks how I heard of the temple. I tell her: it was featured in a video I borrowed from the Quaker Meeting House (23rd visit), called "Holy Pittsburgh." I tell her that what I remember from the video: the statement about the domes of this temple serving the same purpose as steeples on churches-- to direct attention upward. "It was my husband who said that," she tells me. "I'll introduce you to him."  

She asks if I have ever been turned away from attending a service. (No.) She tells me about a friend of hers who happens to be Muslim. She asked her if she might go with her once to a Muslim prayer service. Her friend preferred not, giving the reason that she feared the discussion would be too intense and would make her feel uncomfortable. We talk a bit about this. And other things. Until it's time to go.
Because it's really good today, I'll end with my:  

Count of worshipers wearing Steelers garb while worshiping: 
1 in a Steeler jersey. Name across the back: GURU.
(Flavors of India and Steeler Country merrily co-exit.)
1 woman wearing a kameez (tunic), white with a pattern of Steeler logos
& along the edge of her her dupatta (scarf): more logos. 
8 men cover their heads with black and yellow bandanas
(not turbans- these bandanas are worn by men who do
not have the traditional long hair.) 
3 children in bandanas, scarves, or black and yellow outfits.
_______
13 Total
Running Total for the project: 41 (to date)

________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Very basic history and beliefs of Sikhism: 
• originated in the Punjabi region of India in 1469, but today one finds followers in all regions of India and beyond. 
• belief in one God.
• belief that all religions of the world share the same God. (As do Hindus.)
• 3 main principles: to work hard and honestly. to share with those in need. to always remember God throughout the day.
• belief in equality of all people.
• belief that all people have the right to follow their own belief without persecution or condemnation. Religious freedom is so important that Sikhs have responded in battles to defend non-Sikhs' right to the freedom of belief. (They have fought on the behalf of Hindus, which has led to some confusion and the false claim that Sikhism is a division of Hinduism. It is not an off-shoot nor a branch of Hinduism. Though there are similarities, Sikhism exists as a separate from Hinduism.)
Of course this just skims the top. I'll trust you to google further, if you are interested.

ninety-eighth visit: Sept 29th 2011 Reconstructionist Judaism, Rosh Hashanah

2011-09-18T17:31:00.001-07:00

9:30am thursday
Congregation Dor Hadash
Rosh Hashanah services, day 1
5898 Wilkins Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill

Two points of significance to this visit:
1) It's the first day of Rosh Hashanah. For more about this the Jewish New Year, please see my 2nd visit. I have so many other things to write about, beyond the important meaning of this High Holiday...

2) the uniqueness of Congregation Dor Hadash (in structure and beyond):
a) Like Bet Tikvah (5th visit) and YPS (85th visit), here worship is not led by a Rabbi. I pulled this from their website, as there is no better way of explaining:
" Services
• are led by our members and our lay cantor, Cheryl Klein. [who is absolutely amazing, may I add].
• welcome participation by members and guests
• are gender egalitarian
• are open to all, including interfaith families
• integrate a deep respect for traditional Judaism with the insights and ideas of contemporary social, intellectual and spiritual life"

b) This is a Reconstructionist congregation, and if I'm not mistaken the only such in Pgh proper. So, Reconstructionist, Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform make up the four movements of Judaism in North America. Reconstructionist is modern movement that grew from Conservativism (1920-1940), and encompasses a range of philosophies based on the idea that it is not possible to follow many aspects of the traditional Jewish belief because of advances in knowledge and in daily modern life. This is a brash simplification, but for the sake of length, I'll trust you to research further if an interest exists.

I particularly look forward to this visit because of a coincidence I can't help but to share. A New York artist I met in Germany this summer told me to keep an eye out for her friend—Pittsburgh artist Wendy Osher.

Less than 2 months later (10 days before this visit), I am randomly introduced to her by a mutual friend. Moments later, I learn she is a member of Dor Hadash, my sole remaining synagogue visit, which I had been saving for today, Rosh Hashanah.
I also learn that she is a member of a Jewish-Muslim conversation group, made up mostly of members from The Muslim Community Center in Monroeville (84th visit) and today's congregation, plus some. I'm dying to talk to her more about this.

Today she invites me to sit with her and her husband, James also an artist.

A huge benefit of congregations led by laypeople taking turns at the pulpit, I have come to realize, is the amount of energy and the amount of life-experiences each is able to store up and pour into each talk delivered. Imagine, as one person, having to come up with new inspirational insights to present to a room of listeners every single week of your life.

Congregant Mike Zigmond speaks today. One can feel, without a doubt, that he stirs the room. Here is his eloquent talk reduced to a few stubby sentences, yet not stripped of the power of his ideas (I hope):
He speaks about his son practicing both Buddhism and Judaism. Passionately, fully. (Did you know that here is an actual term for such believers? Jew-Bu. I learn this a bit later.) Mike goes on to say that in daily conversation, you will hear the words "religion" and "faith" used interchangeably. Not in Judaism. Faith is only part of it. The rest is action. Deed. We have to join together in action: Jews with Muslims with Christians with Buddhists. We must get past our differences and work together.

I feel lucky that of these final 10 visits, many so strongly hit on the concepts driving gatherings.

For knowing no Hebrew (besides the first 14 syllables of most prayers) I am able to follow and participate fairly easily during this service. Prayers, blessings and psalms are written phonetically on opposing pages of the prayer book. Scholars' comments and observations are included below the line on each page. And some sections are spoken in English, including a Mary Oliver poem.

After the service:
Those who wish to participate in a ritual called Tashlich (explained below) gather outside the synagogue. During our walk to Chatham University's pond, where Tashlich is to take place, we talk. One woman says I look like I am from a different time and place. I tell her about gatherings. I usually use the word "art" in my final few sentences when explaining gatherings because I have found that otherwise it confuses my listeners. But before I get there, she says: "You are an artist, correct? And this is your art project?" I totally want to hug her.

Tashlich: a tradition of the first day of Rosh Hashanah, with origins in the Middle Ages. My favorite part of today. Because I had never done this before. And because of what it is. This ritual requires either a body of moving water, or still water with fish. Each participant, standing at the edge of (in this case) a fishy pond, receives a very tiny ribbon-cinched cloth bag filled with breadcrumbs. We meditate on our misdeeds of the year. We toss the breadcrumbs on the pond's surface. To be carried away. By the fish—fish with eyes that never close, like those of the all-knowing. A symbolic casting away of misdeeds. But it is important to note that with this act, our misdeeds do not disappear as if they never existed; but instead they are acknowledged and transformed. A clean start to the New Year.

Wendy brings up the length of our time at the synagogue today. I feel that it's nice to be away from quotidian obligations. The long, quiet inward focus. She says she believes that that is part of the purpose. I enter normal life again, sometime just after 2:30pm. I leave normal life again at 4:00 to enter my studio. Although, defining when and where obligations end and belief or art begins can be a tricky thing sometimes. And that's not all bad.

ninety-seventh visit: Sept 28th 2011 Anglican and Epsicopal affiliated

2011-09-18T17:30:00.007-07:00

5:00pm wednesday
Trinity Cathedral
Annual Blessing of the Artists
328 Sixth Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15222
downtown, central business district

For ease in understanding, I'll copy a few phrases from Father Paul Johnston's email announcing this event, the Annual Blessing of the Artists: "For blessing, bring some tool of your trade--a reed, mouthpiece, paintbrush, whisk, mallet, bow, baton, mute, that script or piece of music with the scariest challenge..."

As you may know, part of the reason I am doing this project is that more often than not, there exists a tension between those who make art and those who practice religion. There are, of course, exceptions: Andy Warhol, Joseph Beuys, and yes! one still living: Anselm Kieffer. A list of my personal friends and/or acquaintances who do both in full, cashes in at four. And (presumably) the 17 or so in the sanctuary with me tonight. Or to some extent. For once, perhaps the only time during this project, I don't feel like a complete outsider. Knowing that this is a service open to artists of all faiths, knowing there may be many of us who are not members.

Introductions around chapel: many musicians. visual artists. a writer, if I'm remembering correctly. Father Paul is a musician, music history scholar and professor at CMU. Homily: The spirit as creator. And a delegator of this duty. Father Paul talks about Picasso's Guernica for a bit. It is our job to create art that tells the truth, no matter how ugly it is. To make art that creates change.

Something I did not mention: I had entered during the first hymn. (The only hymn on the evenings agenda.) I thought I was in the wrong place on the wrong day. Literally. I thought I was walking in on a choir practice. An AMAZING choir practice, full of professional singers who had been making noise together for years. One of the artist-congregants asks if we can please sing one more hymn because the first sounded so amazing. So we do. I can't help but to say that I believe that any other congregation would have obediently followed the bulletin, without questioning, never proposing an instinctual change.

Time for the blessing. The officiator, Reverend Cathy speaks the blessing's words while sprinkling holy water on violin cases, sheet music, a box of pastels, my inking pen.

Mentioned: There were calls to the church from those who wished to come but could not because tonight is also the first night of Rosh Hashanah. (Explanation and apologies offered by the Priests.) Comments from a congregant that the ideas in the homily (creation) are reflective of the Jewish New Year's traditional meaning. ...Das kommt morgen.

ninety-sixth visit: Sept 25th 2011 Presbyterian

2011-09-18T17:30:00.005-07:00

11:00am and 3:00pm
Second United Presbyterian Church of Wilkinsburg
sunday service and the annual blessing of the animals
300 Hay St, Pittsburgh PA 15221
winkinsburg

This post covers both my 95th
(Beulah Presbyterian Church, 2500 McCrady Rd, Churchill)
and 96th visits.

I went to bed Saturday night thinking I'd be done with today's visits in time to begin work in my studio shortly after noon. Think again.

10:15am attend service at Beulah. Beulah's regular Sunday services here are held in a building built (if my memory serves me) in the 1960's. The reason I choose to include Beulah in gatherings is this: on this property, next to this newer church, stands this congregation's 1837-constructed church building, Beulah Presbyterian Chapel. Weddings and occasional summer and holiday services are still held here, making it the "oldest building in Allegheny County in continuous use as a church." However, worship on this site actually dates further back. "Preaching was first recorded in the area in 1758. Members first gathered in plein air, with logs serving as pews and the minister benefiting from the only shelter: a tiny gazebo-like tent. (information from a pamphlet provided by Pastor Cynthia)

In emails earlier this week, Pastor Cynthia hints that I may be able to get a quick tour of the older building if I stick around for the picnic after services and connect with one of the church archivists. However, unfortunately, I must bow out promptly, in order to attend Second Presby... As I drive off, my 6th sense tells me it would be worth returning to Beulah today, immediately after my visit to 2nd Presby, in case the archivists have not yet left the picnic. Decided.

11:00am attend service at Second United Presbyterian of Wilkinsburg. Obviously, this is #2 of my 3-Presby-church-countdown (explained here, first two paragraphs). At the end of this service, a request is made: "Would those who are able, please carry a chair or two outside for our 'blessing of the animals' to occur today at 3pm?" Hhhmm. I can't justify missing this. If any dog deserves to be blessed, it's our dog Zoe. She's 11.75 yrs old and the best dog ever. This may be her only chance. (By the way, this is a gorgeous church in beautiful grassy, treed surroundings.)

12:30pm I have returned to Beulah (picnic). I'm greeted immediately by a sweet, sweet woman whose name I feel really bad for having forgotten. She says she had seen me talking to her husband on my way out this morning. I remember his name: Jan. I am quickly shuffled to the food tables because the packing up and clearing off has already begun. No worries: mac and cheese and potato salad, plenty. I am offered a seat with Jan's family. I learn that the picnic is to honor those who have been members at Beulah for over 50 years. There are 77 of these honorables. Indeed.

Pastor Cynthia approaches and offers to take me into the historic 1837 chapel herself. Jan comes too. The entire one-story building is one room. A dug out basement was completed in the 1920's despite its solid rock foundation. The chapel was period-restored in the 1980's (?). Electric chandeliers hang as careful matches for candled-originals, style-wise. Paned-glass windows give ripply views of the cemetery outside. Which, I am told, is the resting place for soldiers from each and every war that this country has been involved in.

Cynthia, Jan and I spend some time in the room of archives. Three doll-house-scaled dioramas of these worship grounds are encased in glass vitrines. The dioramas, constructed by a father-daughter member team, depict the other worship-buildings or worship-spaces that once stood on this property. A few more minutes of conversation about Beulah's time capsules before I thank Cynthia, bid Jan farewell, and return to the cemetery to draw. It's warm enough to take my shoes off.

2:25pm I pull up at my house. Hello to husband. Gather the dog, and immediately drive back, to 2nd Presby Wilkinsburg for the blessing of the animals.
Not more than 8 people and 10 dogs sit attentively in a perfect semi-circle before Pastor Deb. All canine attention is completely focused on her. Dogs have a 6th sense, too. About why they are here, and over a sudden distraction: the fact that the pet carrier just now arriving contains a (the only) cat. A short homily. No denial: a embarrassingly horrible attempt by humans at singing 2 hymns. And then the important part. Spoken to each pet individually, with eye contact: "May you, (insert pet's name), be blessed by the One who created you and may you continue to be a blessing to those who love you."

At the finish, move to the reception area. Treats for the dogs and treats for their owners. The humans exchange pet stories for a bit. Pastor Deb has two dogs and two cats. They are Minister's children of the worst kind while she is officiating, so instead, every year, she takes them downtown to Trinity Cathedral to be blessed there. Ironically, Trinity is my next stop—three days out.

4:15pm Finally, finally home.

ninety-fifth visit: Sept 25th 2011 Presbyterian, oldest church in continuous use

2011-09-18T17:30:00.003-07:00

10:15am and 12:30pm
Beulah Presbyterian Church
2500 McCrady Road
Churchill, PA 15235
churchill

Please see 96th visit.

ninety-fourth visit: Sept 21st 2011 Buddhism, Dzambhala Practice, Fall Equinox (Drikung Kagyu tradition, nonsectarian supportive)

2011-09-18T17:30:00.001-07:00

7:00pm wednesday

Three Rivers Dharma Center
Dzambhala Practice, Fall Equinox
observing Fall Equinox two days early
201 S. Craig St, Pittsburgh PA 15213
north oakland

Today I read an article that started like this:

"If you are in any way witchy, or follow the equinoxes, then you will know that the 23rd marks the first official day of fall this year. "

The article has nothing to do with religion but it expresses a connection between my 93rd visit and this one. Perhaps an arguable one, though. My question here: are we fully justified to associate the equinox with Witches? Is the Equinox not more universal than this? Secular? Astronomical? My digital dictionary says nothing about any religion when I look it up. Alas, the Pagans still lay claim to traditional rituals associated with this bi-annual occurrence.

But I also found: "... according to Jewish superstition, when Abraham prepared to sacrifice Isaac at the autumnal equinox, and blood appeared on his knife." ... "In Greek mythology autumn begins as the goddess Persephone returns to the underworld to live with her husband Hades." ... "In China the Mid-Autumn Festival, also known as the Moon Festival, is celebrated around (but not precisely) the time of the September equinox." ... "Higan, or Higan-e, is a week of Buddhist services observed in Japan during both the September and March equinoxes when day and night are equal at length." (here)

Tonight's meditation: Dzambhala Practice, with a nod to the Fall Equinox two days early. Three Rivers Dharma is located in the basement level of building that was once a house. It's found on a street where most of the buildings are former residences, with the ground floors now used for independent commercial shops and cafes. (The architecture on this street is a little like the row-style seen in Baltimore, if you are familiar.)

At Three Rivers, you are rewarded for early arrival with time for cookies and tea. By 7pm there are close to 8 of us, at most. Like the last meditation I participated in, this is led by a non-Monk. His name is John.

After everyone settles in, stashes shoes, chooses a zafu (cushion), John orients us to the evening: beginning prayers from the more general collection, and a packet of pages specific to tonight's Dzambhala Practice. Each of us holds a copy. In an earlier email, John mentioned: Dzambhala "is the Buddha of prosperity, but this doesn't mean that we are chanting for wealth. Rather, it recognizes that a certain level of material things are necessary for us to have time to devote to Dharma practice. Also, this practice helps dispel a 'poverty mentality' in order to free people to be generous and open."

And now John describes Dzambhala: the left hand holds a mongoose, who emits jewels from his mouth when prompted with a squeeze. Under the right foot is a conch shell. Light emitting from certain points. ... so this is what we should be attempting to visualize during the meditation.

In emails earlier this week, John emphasized that this meditation is more challenging, as it involves difficult visualization. Unless I'm misunderstanding the process, it ends up that the visualization is not what is hard for me. Having a strong mind's eye is a basic requirement for artists, you know. It's the simultaneous chanting in Sanskrit that provides the challenge of keeping the visualization going. ...or maybe that's exactly what he meant.

We chant the same relatively lengthy series of syllables 108 times. Some keep track using beads. It takes time for me to understand where stressed sounds fall. The series is too long to memorize, so reading steals concentration from my inward visualization. And one more obstacle in my way: repetition of this sort always makes me feel mildly queasy leading to an ounce of mild panic. I know: kind of the opposite of the purpose of meditation. It's probably something that I need to psychologically work myself out of, as it's the same feeling I experience with my slight case of claustrophobia. And this issue with repetition is the same reason why I choose to avoid learning to knit. But that's not to say that I don't value this experience. For sure. As I said, the symptoms are mild.

Following, I have several interesting conversations with members as we carry cushions up to the second floor to prepare for a visit from a Monk this weekend. I meet a CMU student who sat next to me during meditation (philosophy major, art minor if I remember correctly). She is currently doing a project in which she is asking religious leaders of all faiths in the Pgh area to define what it means "to commune." Comparing notes about our projects, I say something about my interest in experiencing all these different ways [of spirituality]. To this she adds, "and experiencing all the common aspects." No doubt.

ninety-third visit: Sept 18th 2011 Paganism

2011-09-18T17:29:00.002-07:00

11am-6pm sunday
(me: 3:45-6pm)
Greater Pittsburgh Pagan Pride Day
Buffalo Inn Buffalo Dr, South Park Township, PA 15129
south park township

Both Christian and Pagan scholars have written books on the fact that many Christian rituals and traditions practiced today contain elements carried over from the Pagan belief. However, there is a lot of unrest, especially amongst Christians, when is comes to this topic. I do not mean to upset anyone in this respect. This troubled relationship is important to me for several reasons, including the fact that over the past year I've had more than one college art student address this issue in their work.

Some of the emotion surrounding the conflict between Pagans and Christians comes from these two facts: in order to leave Paganism for Christianity, Paganism must be rejected. I feel that the negative emotions surrounding this issue results from sentiments left over from this rejection that happened 1600-2000 yrs ago. Additionally, in order to motivate people to convert to Christianity, it was declared kosher for some Pagan elements to be carried over into this new religion called Christianity. This is not the only instance of this kind of fluidity (see my 75th visit, 7th paragraph). Honestly, it's so hard for me to see why this is something to get worked up about. Why is this bad?

Pagan Pride Day (PPD is inclusive to Wicca, Heathenry, Shamanism, Druidry and other beliefs. These each fall within the broader practice of Paganism, Neo-. Inclusion and tolerance are driving forces of gatherings, and there was plenty of both at PPD:

in pamphlets, on T-shirts and in the theme of the ritual performed at day's end.

Here's a side note: I found out shortly after naming this-here project, that the word "gatherings," is precisely the term used for meetings held by Pagan religious groups.

Another side note, as many have asked me recently about the relationship between Paganism, Wicca and WItches: All Witches are Pagan, but not all Pagans are Witches. All Wiccans are Witches, but not all Witches are Wiccan. Is Wicca different from Witchcraft? Some say yes, some say no.
So, my experience at PPD...
My first and immediate impression: here is a gathering of people to whom the expression of one's individual identity is very important. In appearance and beyond.

I attend a lecture on the history of runes presented by Ann Gróa Sheffield, a runes scholar. Pretty interesting. Especially since I am studying German—regarding the link between these.

The first person I meet while exiting the lecture is a fiber artist. Everyone I speak to thereafter seems to be involved in creating things of some sort. Besides short lectures and workshops, there is a whole roomful of tables with creations for sale: candles, clothing, and a food counter. The portabello mushroom hoagie I order is delicious.

At this event, I receive by far the most numerable and most positive comments on my dress than anywhere else so far. Perhaps partly because this event is more social than other worship services, but none-the-less, the fact remains. Most wanted to know whether I had made it myself, or if someone else had done so. There were no puzzled looks. No one asked me to explain myself. No one expected me to explain anything, even when I really wanted to talk about my impetus for attending PPD. But when I did, always an interest: "Very cool. You must be seeing so much and learning so much. Have you been to (this church or that synagogue) yet?" One one thing that made the dress stand out a bit: its whiteness as opposed to blackness, which was rather omnipresent.

A man named Cameron looks, pauses, and asks if I am Semitic (as in the Ancient Semitic, or Proto-Semitic religion). He also gives me a bracelet he has made, and tells me about a religious group that he belongs to, that meets in the same building on Ellsworth, where I attended a Quaker service (23rd visit) and Zen Buddhist meditation (81st visit).

As the ritual time nears, just outside the building, a fire is built in a cauldron on a hill. A woman named Rowan sits near me during the ceremony. She explains that the ritual is specifically intended to be inclusive to all forms of Paganism—in purpose and actions performed.

I can't stop thinking of Hinduism during the ritual. Hindu pujahs begin with a fire in a small or sometimes large (as at my wedding) metal pot. And the first action in both: spirits are invited. At the ritual today, a large ring of participants encircle the cauldron, many carrying hand-written scrolls. The spirits are addressed in Calling the Four Quarters. Because different Pagan beliefs refer to the quarters differently, today they are referred to as north, south, east and west. Following this, an appointed representative from each of the beliefs present today steps forward from the circle, toward the cauldron. He or she then speaks about his or her group's intentions, focus, and spiritual contribution to the community, to the world (which has been written on the scroll), then surrenders the scroll to the fire.

Related to this: the remarkably universal elements involved in ancient Norse Pagan rituals—that which I learn about at the rune lecture: a sacred cup or chalice, chanting, symbolic blood, and taking in, imbibing, drinking. I still know so little, but as perceived by outsider, I have to ask: how many other observances in how many other beliefs involve these elements? At home I talk to my husband about this. "In the end," he says, "we simply are all human beings." In some ways it would make sense if this was my 100th visit. But not yet: seven more to go.

ninety-second visit: Sept 18th 2011 Latter-day Saints Movement (Mormonism)

2011-09-18T17:29:00.001-07:00

1:00pm sunday
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
250 N Dithridge, Pittsburgh PA 15213
north oakland

I have a good friend who is a fabulous painter, a practicing Mormon, and a pretty remarkable person. I have not talked to him in a while; he's a half-day's drive away. But I thought of him throughout this visit.

Because of conversations I have had, I was under the assumption that, as a non-Mormon, I would not be permitted to enter the building, let alone attend a service. To clarify: as I understand, this would be true in the case of entering a Mormon Temple. The building I attend today technically is an Institute. I had stopped by a couple of weeks ago and spoke with Virginia (a member) as well as Sister Marshall, who both insisted that I am certainly welcome to do both (enter and attend). Virginia even invites me to stay for lunch that day, served at the conclusion of the class she has just attended. But unfortunately I have to run, promising to return for a service before long.

And so I return. I choose a small pew for my lone self. Within minutes Alexia approaches me and invites me to sit with her and her husband. Asks if I am visiting. Learns about this project. Does not stop asking about my dress until she has to, when the service starts.

It seems that this services is specifically for young adults and young adults with young families. The children sit with their parents throughout the entire hour. Moms or dads occasionally pop up and leave the room carrying a vocal wee one, but it's pretty remarkable how well-behaved the youngest members are.

"What struck you about the service?," my hair stylist asks me this week when in for a trim.
That the speakers and readers during the service are congregants. A single leader does not dominate.
That each speaker is moved to tears during their talk, each of them offering thoughts and stories on the topic of friendship.
That none of the speakers seemed very nervous.
That so many of them studied art history (as was Ryan's undergrad degree) and others are musicians, composers.
That tiny cups of water are passed for communion, as Alexia kindly confirms my understanding of the meaning of this portion of the service.
The fact that those with families rooted in this belief have a number of common ancestors, is not something that is not entirely unapparent. Or maybe there are other reasons that these members look like they share oneness.

I assume that I will feel too self conscious to draw during this service. But I surprise myself.

When the service ends, Alexia and I talk a bit more about my dress. She wants to know how she can find out when and where I will be showing the work. This reminds me and I mention to her, that I was not able to get emails of those who had invited me here. She pulls up Virginia's email on her iPhone. No back seat for hospitality here. Thank you.

Count of worshipers wearing Steelers garb while worshiping:
1 worshiper in a black suite with a yellow shirt and black tie.
(I saw like 13 people while I was driving between visits today,
but I guess that can't count.)

ninety-first visit: Sept 18th 2011 Presbyterian

2011-09-18T17:28:00.000-07:00

11:00am sunday
Third Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh
5701 Fifth Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15232
shadyside

As I begin my final 10 visits, many of these 10 are chosen for reasons that reflect my hope to include all paths of faith with regular meetings in Pgh. Though this is my goal, I will most likely inadvertently (sadly) miss one or more...

But there's another aim in these last 10.
Though I've tried to keep quiet about this, it now makes sense now to state clearly that I was raised Presbyterian. And Pittsburgh is known as the Presbyterian city. 160 Presby churches in all, I learned today. Number-wise, I could do a whole project and a half on just this denomination and still have 10 left over. Crazy. In honor of the 2 points above, in these last 10 visits, I'm going to include a count-down of Presbyterian churches: this the Third Presbyterian, the Second (in Wilkinsburg) and the First, downtown. And amongst these three, I'll interweave faiths with which I'm comparatively unfamiliar.

Something else I learned today: This the Third Presbyterian Church of Pittsburgh was not named so because it was the third of its kind established in Pgh. Instead, its name comes from the fact that the church was initially located downtown on Third and Ferry Streets. None-the-less, this congregation first convened in 1833, which still makes it pretty old. (The oldest congregation in Pgh proper is here.)

The building I attend today is the congregation's third home, constructed 1897-1903. Totally worth seeing. Gorgeous. What I love about the architecture: French Gothic with no apologies. Pointed arches curve and reverse curve to extended points throughout. Varnished carved oak butts up next to carved stone to the right and left of the front alter—at the start of right and left wings lofting right and left balconies. Six Tiffany windows, and the others: nothing to brush off in the least, either. Absolute romantic drama. I look up and know this: I want to wear these costumes in this world where garments float. In these exact colors. Where extended wings double angel's heights.

And the intricate turn-of-the-century Art Nouveau patterning makes this my drawing time this morning a true mental and visual meditation.

The sermon: Walk by faith; not by sight.
Life is full of hours and hours of boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. Or moments of the unexpected. To anticipate and be prepared for the unexpected.

You know, I have to say that my life does not seem that boring to me. If it were, it would be 100 percent my fault because I'm in charge of thinking up my projects. (Aren't we all?) Every so often there might be a boring part, and when there is, I'm fully responsible for shifting it. I remember visiting a friend of mine in NYC (freelance commercial artist, writer, adjunct professor, known her for 20 years) who commented: "My goal is to live an interesting life." I think that this shared sentiment drives most of the life-decisions that I make. I'm lucky to have the freedom... but I think most of us could find a way if it's made a priority. But maybe not everyone wants this. Who is to say. One thing for sure: we certainly don't have control over very many of the really exciting, unexpected parts of life. And certainly not over the moments of terror. The need to sort out such moments, to make sense of them, is as common as being human, and the means we choose are as varied as our personalities. ...through pre-established or self-realized philosophies, by external or internal manner... or perhaps in a studio.

After the service, Preston (director of music) kindly spends some time talking with me. Turns down the lights to enhance my photos. Brings me a booklet about the windows. Shows me the attached chapel, where services were first held until the main sanctuary's construction was complete. Thank you. Countdown has begun.

ninetieth visit: Sept 11th 2011 non-denominational Christianity, Baptist & Pentacostal influence

2011-09-15T17:26:00.000-07:00

11:00am sunday
Zoe Christian Community Center
555 N. Braddock St. Pittsburgh PA 15208
homewood south

Three months before gatherings began, I drove by this little white building called Zoë, and took mental note. A year and three months later, as I'm scheduling the last 10 of my 100 visits I notice that there are only nine places of worship that fall into the category: "must be included or my project will seem amiss." These are nine places that can't be skipped because they are either grand, historical, central to the identity of this city, or of a belief-not-yet-experienced. This leaves room for one wildcard spot. Something told me to go to Zoë. Not only because Zoë is the name of our dog, and also the name of a good friend's girlfriend whom I know to be pretty special; but also because this one-room church would be my anchor, serving ground the other nine places of worship: the grand, historical or quite unfamiliar.

I enter and this is what I find:
Seven adults (including me), four children (including the drummer), plus the keyboardist, and the minister.
Eight or nine narrow rows of fabric covered chairs—the kind you might find in a business's conference room. Arranged on a particle-board floor. A right and a left aisle.
A crocheted runner hanging over the front of the wooden pulpit.
Zoë is filled with a gentleness and honesty that complements my mood this morning.

Celebrations and concerns:
The keyboardist speaks. She lost three people close to her this week, but has not failed to find peace.
A young girl announces she is moving and she is "sad about it."

From the pulpit, the Pastor pauses, and kindly asks me to introduce myself.

The sermon:
The potential of a tiny mustard seed.
Also: believing in things you don't fully understand. I talked to a student this week who says he has never felt so excited about the ideas that are taking shape in his paintings, but he has no clue as to where they are coming from, or what the images mean. And he does not want to know yet. Exploration to arrive at discovery.
The sermon is also about finding comfort and experiencing safety in faith.
Do I sometimes enter my studio seeking these same things? Yes, when the world keeps telling me no. And when it seems people are on my side, I enter to uproot what I think I already know; to escape comfort.

There is no mention of 9/11 on this the 10th anniversary.

After the service, the pastor approaches me to talk further.
He wants to know where I am from, beyond Highland Park. I talk about the west coast; he has a son there. I mention Baltimore; he has a son in DC.
I find out that he is renovating this bldg himself.
He hopes I come back to visit again.
He says he and his wife would like to take me out to lunch sometime.

eighty-ninth visit: Sept 9th 2011 Islam

2011-09-10T18:39:00.000-07:00

1:30pm friday
Al-Masjid Al-Awwal
1911 Wylie Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15219
crawford-roberts (near hill district)

After calls and an email with no avail, I had stopped by last week to ask about attending. On the front steps, I ran into a staff-member. He welcomed me to join them any Friday, and pointed out the women's entrance. This visit to the first Muslim Mosque established in Pittsburgh (1932) is timed intentionally just before the 10th anniversary of 9/11 (more here, 2nd paragraph).

Something I did not mention last week: For my visit on October 1, 2010, I was nervous. The Islam faith is probably that which I am least familiar with as far as attending services, and it is conducted in a language with which I am also completely unfamiliar. I am not nervous at all during my second mosque visit. And neither at the start of this visit. It's kind of uncanny to feel this difference.

As you know, I sew between (in response to) each visit, making an addition of fabric or embroidery to my dress. Just before my first visit to a Muslim mosque (Oct 1, 2010), I added sleeves to my dress, to avoid inappropriateness of attire. Adding more than that seemed too much, unbalanced and not right for the perimeters of this project, so I needed to temporarily wear a longer skirt under my dress, and a larger headscarf to this service. By the time of my second mosque visit, a week ago, I only needed to add a longer skirt. Before my third time (today), I had finally achieved complete mosque-worthy apparel, length and all. Except that I find out after this visit, that as far as clothing goes, white is set aside for males. In more conservative, traditional Muslim communities, it is considered improper for a woman to wear white. At my two previous gathering-visits to mosques, I remember some women were wearing very light colors. And last week I was not the only one in white. But here such is not the case, as all the women are in black.

The message today similar in content to last weeks but stepped up in intensity.
The following two paragraphs document the Imam's words, with very little, if any, paraphrasing:
The terrorist attack of 9/11 is not permissible under the teachings of Islam, and thus Islam frees itself from these actions. Islam does not allow the assassination of innocent people, whether done by Muslims or non-Muslims. We have to speak the truth about these affairs without compromising out faith. Without apology for our faith, because this is not an action that happened under the construct of our faith. We must combat the ideological basis that the terrorists were using wrongly in the name of Islam.

The Imam reads from a flier announcing an interfaith vigil to be held on September 11 at the Islamic Center of Pgh (my 7th visit). One of the names of the establishments mentioned on the sponsor list is not to be confused with this mosque. Attending this interfaith vigil, [implying] interfaith prayer, is a compromise of faith. Though we feel nothing but sorrow and sympathy for those lives lost and those affected by the terrorist attack, it is forbidden to pray for non-Muslims; thus it would be a compromise of our faith to support this interfaith vigil.

A full-congregation prayer, and the service ends.

One woman approaches and greets me. Another speaks kindly to my on my way out.

eighty-eighth visit: Sept 7th 2011 Scientology

2011-09-07T20:07:00.002-07:00

2:00pm wednesday
Scientology Pittsburgh
1906 East Carson St, Pittsburgh PA 15203
southside flats

Yes, I know this is one of controversy. And questions are laced throughout my visit, proving to be kind of interesting in the end, I think.

So, last week, Shawn at Scientology Pittsburgh answered my call. I explained gatherings. He answered that if I wanted to attend a service, a worship-gathering having to do with Scientology, I should go to Cleveland or Columbus. "We don't do anything like that here." There was a curious tone in his voice that now makes sense to me.

It helps to have the full back story:

In my household, there has been a running debate as to whether Scientology should be included in this project at all. One side of my household has done some web research on the topic that led him to conclude that, because of its structure, Scientology is not a religion and therefore should not be included in gatherings. The other side of the debate... the side connected to the fingers typing this post, says that this project is not about judging whether people who say they are worshiping, are or are not worshiping. It is about exploring the relationship between art and spiritual belief, if there is any at all. BTW, it happens that France, Germany and the UK agree with my husband. However, it happens that the USofA does recognize Scientology as a religion, so I feel that if I excluded it, it would indeed be an exclusion, and I would be acting against the principles of this project. And so for these reasons, I go.

And I'm not afraid to be this blunt about the above. Because I know I'm not offending anyone at Pittsburgh Scientology. And this is a project about Pittsburgh. And Robert at Scientology Pittsburgh says "Well, you can call... call it a religion... if you want to... but you see personally I'm a Christian. And Scientology plays a separate role in my life. But you can certainly see it as a religion if you want to." And some people do. In other cities, and from other followers of Scientology, you would receive a more emphatic answer.

There is a lot written a lot about Scientology. To start, the office I visit is chock full. Books floor to ceiling, wall to wall, most by L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. There's also a lot written and posted on the web by those who are, were and are no longer involved in Scientology. And by general theologians and their stance. It's there, to digest and use to arrive at your own conclusions as to where you stand on this debate. And it's important to do that. But as content, that part does not belong in this blog. Instead I'll just tell you about my experience visiting Scientology Pittsburgh.

When I arrive, Shawn is in the back room with a client, so I don't get to meet him face to face.

My time is spent with Robert, who invites me to sit and watch a DVD about the basis of Scientology—an interview conducted with Hubbard in the late 1950's (if I am remembering correctly).

These are the main points that I walk away with:
--Hubbard began his work with the intent of discovering the essence of what it means to be human; to find truth(s) common to all humans, across all races, nationalities, and cultures. Hubbard first established Dianetics, a self-help program. Scientology expanded from this, differing from Dianetics in that it addresses not only the mind, but also the spirit.
The goals of Scientology involve:
--making sense of your own life, coming to know yourself, doing one's part to make a better world for all to live in, overcoming obstacles, and finding happiness. Finding and/or creating a better way of living. Finding happiness through success.
--Addresses the value of becoming introverted in order to then become extroverted and express the knowledge of your true self. In this way, it draws from principles of Buddhism—in reference to the benefit of achieving an awareness in order to gain control over the subconscious. Belief that a subconscious that wanders out of control (called aberration) can be a source of our general and specific anxieties.
--Hubbard does not intend for Scientology to be associated with psychology or psychiatry in any way; he is very against this. He feels psychology puts humans into the category of animals. (It's implied he's referring to his perception that psychology and psychiatry views one's personality is the result of brain-chemical interactions.) Scientology has evolved to instead address the physical being as well as the spiritual being.
--He does not feel strongly that it should be recognized as a religion. "It does not have to be seen that way." But he feels it can be compatible with all religions, and can be a part of all religions. He also feels that the principles have been absorbed into the medical field and are responsible for successes in achieving health. ...although he did not set out to provide medical treatment, and Scientology does not intend to serve this purpose.
I also watch a section on the importance of and ways of upholding human rights, and racial and ethnic equality.

After an hour and a half, I thank Robert and head home. As I mentioned, I've realized, that at the end of this project, after my 100th visit, I will be writing a conclusion-post(s). It's not too far off in time, and for that reason I sense that I can take a break from spelling out conclusions in every post; mentioning art. I sense that if I don't, things might get a little repetitive.

eighty-seventh visit: Sept 4th 2011 Roman Catholicism (service in Spanish)

2011-09-07T20:07:00.001-07:00

12:00 noon sunday
The Parish of Saint Regis,
or Parroquia De San Regis
3235 Parkview Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15213
south oakland

See the last section of the post for visit number 86. My experience for this visit is included there.

eighty-sixth visit: Sept 4th 2011 Hungarian Reformed, Christianity

2011-09-07T20:06:00.000-07:00

10:00am sunday
First Hungarian Reformed Church
221 Johnston St, Pittsburgh PA 15207
hazelwood

I've been a little slow at posting these days because the school year has started. I'm not teaching this semester, but instead, embracing continued time to devote to this project and taking another semester of college German. Language classes are one of U of Pitt's strongest points, but unfortunately not mine, so it takes a lot of time to insure that it does not completely kick my butt and consequently leaves less time for gatherings than I had last month.

And in honor of this, this Sunday's theme is language.

Being completely honest in my posts is an obvious rule of this project. And to be honest, I am definitely experiencing a strong feeling of burn-out today. Or maybe the timing of burnout is psychological... in that if I was doing 200 visits, 85-86 would still feel fresh of wonder, and the burnout would begin to happen just before 170. I'm not sure about that. Even with only 100, for me, this is a lot of service-going. Especially at the rate of 4-5 per week, the pace I have been following since the beginning of last month. At this point, obviously the burn-out is a feeling that comes more strongly from attending services of religions that I am more familiar with.
So here's one thing I am thankful for:

For a while now, I've known more or less where my 80th-100th visits would/will occur. And while compiling that list, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Pittsburgh is holding it's own in providing a continued source of the unfamiliar for me, up to the end.

Anyway, this Sunday's theme of language is also partly inspired by this article.
I was hoping that going to a Hungarian service and a service in Spanish would keep things fresh... and honestly, I'm not sure it worked.

Well, to be fair, it's partly my fault. At the Hungarian Reformed Church, the service is almost entirely in English. Hungarian services start up again in October, when my visits will be done. I forgot to thoroughly look into this. But the final blessing is in Hungarian, as are words in the stained glass above the main entrance, declaring a divine welcome. It's too easy to dump them into a web translator, so I'll let you do that.

Despite the dose of multi-cultures via these visits, I did not experience all that much except that which is to be expected, as far as church-going goes. And maybe knowing what to expect comes from attending 86 services in exactly a year minus a day. If this was visit #3 I'm sure I'd talk your ear off.

Just a couple of quick stories from First Hungarian Reformed Church:

This is the first Hungarian Reformed Church in North America. And this is the original congregation (or descendants, friends and neighbors there-of) that still gathers in this same building, all their years of existence. This situation is VERY unusual for this city. This is also the last Hungarian Reformed church left in existence within the city of Pittsburgh proper, although there are a few outside the borders.

Pastor Ilona Komjathy is 5th generation Hungarian, from New Jersey. She used to be the organist when her husband was the minister here. When he died very suddenly of a heart attack 14 yrs ago, she went to seminary school, and was ordained.

Reverend Komjathy knows 8 languages, including Hebrew. (Judaism's gateway language, of course). "Do you use Hebrew?," I ask. She reads in Hebrew every day. And uses Latin often, too. She claims that it's pretty handy because some of the old Latin texts have never been translated and printed.

It was Charles Brauchler, a member of Smithfield United Church of Christ (originally a German congregation), who suggested that I visit this church. He did not tell me why he recommended it, but I assumed it was because of the building's Historic Landmark status or my cultural interests. Pastor Komjathy said that it also might be due to the historical connection between the two congregations: she says that 125 yrs ago Smithfield helped this church find a pastor.

...And a quick conversation with the woman across the table from me at coffee hour that I won't forget. She works 4 hrs every night at the hazelwood neighborhood bar, hates it ("it's just awful"), wants to quit, but says the patrons won't let her. The person to previously retire from her spot had the job for 50 yrs. Could not get out until past retirement age, for the very same reasons.

St Regis.
is mentioned in this article and that's what brought me here.

This service is entirely in Spanish, with a bit of Nigerian from a visiting missionary, which, in turn, is translated into Spanish by the Priest. And my favorite part: musicians with Spanish guitars, too.

One of the stained glass windows (Joseph's) depicts a prominent Star of David along with iconic carpenter tools.

I have almost no interaction with other worshipers at this service—mostly due to the fact that I become 100% introverted when I become short on sleep. And that I am. Busy, busy life. Almost no interaction, except that while photographing the nearly empty sanctuary before the service starts, I drop my duputa in the center aisle. A young female politely taps me on the shoulder and returns it. Thank you. That would be a minor tragedy not to make it through the project with my gatherings ensemble in tact. Every piece of my attire, once added to my attire, must go to every service.

OK, for feeling burned out I still (predictably) came up with quite a bit to say. And that's quite enough for now...

eighty-fifth visit: Sept 3rd 2011 Judaism (originally founded by Zionists)

2011-09-07T17:20:00.000-07:00

9:30am saturday
Young Peoples Synagogue
6404 Forbes Avenue, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill south

I think I've typed these words before, but this is truly one of the friendliest congregations I've experienced. I suspect so much even before I arrived, due to the welcoming emails I receive. Special qualities beyond this include: history and unique structure of the schul. Here's more on that—

1) This congregation is run by the people: no rabbi, no secretary, no office, no paid professionals at all. Everyone pitches in. Homilies are delivered by a different member each week.

2) When the congregation was established over 60 years ago, it was very young. And for a time, it remained so in this way: members adhered to an agreement to leave the synagogue and attend another upon the ripe age of 35 years. This was carried out for some time, but eventually along the way, no one wanted to leave. So no one did. (In religion, things can change if you want them to.) This Saturday, I would venture to guess that there is only one devotee under the age of 35: a one-week-old who is attending for the first time in his life. And perhaps his parents, I should say, since it's hard to tell, and I don't want to get myself into trouble of the tactless sort.

(I learned most of the above during all the friendliness during Kiddush after the service.)

During the service:
The homily, delivered by Alex, concerns the word Tzedek or Zedek. I'm assuming this may be a variant of the word "Zedeck"... as in my first Orthodox service ever, at Poale Zedeck on Sept 25, 2010, 6th visit. And things come full circle as I learn the meaning of "zedek" today, while I attend my very last Jewish Orthoox service of gatherings. (At the end of today, I will have attended all the Orthodox Schuls in Pittsburgh.) Alex explains that the word "zedek" means "justice." He raises the question as to why is it repeated, appearing twice to begin this passage in the Torah. ...Interestingly, the same question about repetition was raised here, during my 73rd visit (3rd paragraph).

This time the answer is a bit different, but not contradictory. Alex explains that it is because of the two meanings of the word: social justice and legal justice. I ask further about this at kiddush. Explained to me: coming from the fact that Jewish people were often (nearly constantly) forced to flee to new lands due to persecution, the idea of social justice refers to the fact that you are always an outsider when someone else's land and that outsiders should be given special protection. (Remarkably echoing the homily at MCCGP yesterday, fifth paragraph.)

I am pretty good at keeping track of new names of those I meet while chatting after service in the lower level. For a while. Then I completely loose track. So many conversations, so many introductions. Not a huge group, though, which means I speak to nearly everyone.

One particular conversation stands out in my mind. A dear woman asks where I live. I explain. "Oh," she says, "Do you know that humongous, beautiful former-synagogue down the street from your house, on Negley Avenue? The one with the curved facade."
Of course. We drive by it every day.
"My husband was the last Rabbi there. There's a video..." she begins, trying to remember the name.
"'Holy Pittsburgh?' I saw it." The Quakers let me borrow it from their library this fall (23rd visit).
"That's it," she says. "My husband is in that."
I remember the section covering this synagogue exactly.
"Well, that's him," she says. He has since retired.
She said being a rabbi's wife was hard, specifically because of having to be so nice all the time. "That part was exhausting," she exclaims.

I take a minute to realize how many people I've obligated, how many people I've made work so hard over this past year. Good to know I'm not the only one tiring myself out in order to make this happen.

eighty-fourth visit: Sept 2nd 2011 Islam

2011-09-06T20:51:00.000-07:00

1:00pm friday
Muslim Community Center of Greater Pittsburgh
233 Seaman Lane, Monroeville PA 15146
monroeville

For over a week, my attempts to get in touch with MCCGP (calls and a drive out to introduce myself in person), all landed on days that the office was closed. Finally, I found an email address on the web and sent a message—late the night before this intended visit. I received the kindest reply from the secretary. Included: clarification on the fact that at this mosque, women use the same door as men, but head directly upstairs to the separate section. And an invitation to come early to meet him before prayer begins. (Unfortunately I am not able.)

Resolution to the urgency I was feeling, because of this:
I could not make it to Eid-ul-fitr, which every year marks the end of Ramadan. I will make up for this with not one, but two visits to Jummah at two different Pgh-area mosques. (At many instances in my life when I've voiced self-defined perimeters that border on penance, such as this, those around me have asked if I was raised Catholic. Answer: no. A complicated story for another time.) Anyway, these two visits to mosques are deliberately timed to serve as my own personal observation of the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I looked at other places of worship holding gatherings for this purpose—churches and such with special 9/11-themed services—but decided that this would be most meaningful to me.

I assume this to be my own quiet acknowledgment of 9/11, especially this week, with the date yet 9 days off. There is next week's Jummah to occur on 9/9 just before the actual anniversary, so I do not expect there to be any mention of the remembered event in the homily today. But I welcome the unexpected. Today's message, delivered calmly throughout, is pretty remarkably empowering.

There are 13 women in the designated balcony, including me and not including the two babies. We sit on the floor as I have done at Hindu and Buddhist services. Wrapped in fabric, all of us. (My dress now-a-days seems to blend in best with worshipers at Hindu or Muslim services.) The Imam addresses the men on the floor below us. To us, he speaks via live video on the flat screen TV monitor mounted high on the wall. He says:

Immediately after Sept 11, 2001, we, no doubt, had difficulty defining ourselves as Muslim and had difficulty defining Islam for ourselves, as well.
Over the next 9 days, there will be a lot of questioning again.
--We could become frustrated and/or doubt ourselves. Or we could see this as an opportunity to tell others about our belief as we practice it, in order to clear misunderstandings.
--It is through our own acts that we are held accountable for creating our own identity.
--The fact is, that in order for justice to be achieved, and voices to be heard, minorities must be able to depend on and trust the majority to protect and defend minorities, to a certain extent. He says something that really sticks with me because it surprises me: We know that America is not an Islamophobic country.

And he says that going to pray at a mosque is 100x better than praying alone. Why? ...in such an act of introversion? This is a question that I have come to on my own several times during this project.
I wish I could ask everyone who attends services of all kinds: Is it easier or harder to pray, when one is alone or in a group?
So far I know for certain of only one faith that acknowledges full legitimacy of practicing in solitude: Hindus. Perhaps also Buddhists? Correct me. And Wiccas and Pagans hold very few gatherings. That is the official name of their services, BTW: "gatherings." Hold tight on this; the future awaits.

Back to our questioning: ...to pray at a mosque is 100x better than praying alone.
Of course, "better" does not necessarily mean "easier."
Does a religious leader simply desire a full house? Or is he is referring to the importance of solidarity and community even in the case of defining individual identity?

Does this also partly reveal the value (necessity) of participating in a larger artistic community as an artist, not just through artwork, but socially? As an artist, does it help to be an active part of an artistic community when attempting to discover personal artistic identity, define and establish our own voice? And later to grow and evolve? And is this why I returned for another degree, knowing I could not grow on my own, without that specific community? And is this why, when I loose my community of artists (through a move, the end of a residency, or whatnot) I don't feel like working until the new one is established?
Even though I can only make art when I'm completely alone.

eighty-third visit: Aug 27th 2011 Seventh-day Adventist

2011-08-27T17:26:00.001-07:00

11:00am sunday
Ethnan Temple Seventh-day Adventist Church
1205 Wood St, Wilkinsburg PA 15221
wilkinsburg

I have not been to Wilkinsburg for a visit in a while, and the idea of book-ending last Saturday's service with another (the only other) Pgh area Seventh-day Adventist church makes sense to me.

I am not feeling great this Saturday morning. At first I am sure it is just tiredness. Ninteen visits in 31 days, and keeping up with sewing and writing between each, amidst the rest of life's obligations... will do that. But shortly after the start of this service, I recognize that I'm actually fighting the beginning of a migraine. So my memory of this visit is a bit clouded.

I remember 3 white hats in front of me. I remember drawing on the back of my printed driving directions because I forgot to bring clean gessoed paper.
I remember the pastor speaking a lot about finances.
The importance of having a mentor.
I am welcomed warmly during visitor greeting time.
This is a call and response service.
A girl of 4 or 5 years plays with dolls in the pew in front of me. One of the dolls has a dress on that is a miniature match of the girl's. Lined white netting dotted with lavender flowers.

Because of my migraine, I need to leave 3 minutes before we are officially let go... slipping out quickly is pretty important as the nausea is getting pretty bad. I drive home very, very carefully...

eighty-second visit: Aug 26th 2011 Roman Catholicism

2011-08-27T17:25:00.001-07:00

11:30am friday
Saint Joseph Parish
4712 Liberty Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15224
bloomfield

It recently occurred to me that I have not been to a place of worship in Bloomfield. Bloomfield cannot be skipped. A quiet weekday morning Mass in this historic landmark on the main thoroughfare seems right.

Often I am the only _______(something) at these services.
The only Caucasian. The only non-Jewish in the synagogue. The only one wearing long sleeves in 87 degree weather. Today I am the only worshiper younger than age 60.

The sanctuary's interior is cake-white with gilded trim. Today, the homily mentions the universal desire to be holy. That marriage should not be entered for reasons of lust alone. (Though I must interject that a little of that in the mix can't hurt.)

The woman in front of me fingers green rosary beads. I had been wanting to include the notion of the rosary in this project, but had not encountered a reason until now. Idea for this post-service addition to my dress is set.

Every once in a while I prefer a service during which no one speaks to me. I stay a bit and draw before heading home.

eighty-first visit: Aug 24th 2011 Zen Buddhism

2011-08-25T18:07:00.000-07:00

7:00pm wednesday
Zen Group of Pittsburgh
Korean Zen (Mahayana)
4836 Ellsworth Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15213
shadyside

Tonight's practice is a part of the Kwan Um School of Zen, specifically following the teachings of Zen Master Seung Sahn (1927-?2006), who arrived and established himself in Providence, RI in the 1970's.

The Zen Group of Pittsburgh meets in the Friends Meeting House, the same location as my 23rd visit. I am a few minutes late and then have a little trouble finding the room (had to follow the sign that said "restroom"). Excuses aside I feel really, really terrible that I enter mid-chant—into a room of only two others, and I still now feel really terrible. But I'm not made to feel badly by Will nor by William. And maybe this is partly why: It is part of Buddhist philosophy that things are not inherently good nor inherently bad; they just are.

Have I mentioned that I used to work in a small print shop when I lived in Portland, Oregon? Well, I did, and whenever something happened to go terribly wrong... 1000's of copies terribly wrong, (which can be terribly common in any print shop), our press operator would amble slowly into the front room and calmly recite this mantra: Things are not inherently good nor inherently bad; they just are.

Will patiently helps me to find my place in the prayer book, and chanting continues. Some prayers are in English. Later I learn that students are discouraged from looking up the meaning of non-English chants. As I understand, chanting is meant to clear the mind, not necessarily contribute to the day's mental input, so a full grasp of meaning can actually be less productive. This brings to my mind two things:
1) the pundigee's Sanskrit that my husband repeats during pujas, for which my husband and many devoted Hindus know no meaning.
2) a quote by Salvador Dali, recently emailed to me by a former student: "Just because I do not know the meaning of the images I paint does not mean they don't have meaning."

We then move on to the meditation portion of the night. I want to mention that at this point in my story, Will has not seen my blog—he does not have the address, nor does he know my last name; he could not have looked it up. Will talks a bit about some principles of Buddhist meditation. He begins by saying, "Buddhism, not unlike art, [and not unlike other beliefs,] seeks to answer the questions we have about life, such as: what is life? And how are we to live it? What does it mean to be human?" Umm, look here if you have not yet: (last 4 lines of second to last paragraph). Pretty amazing, huh?

In my meditation instruction for tonight, there is particular emphasis on remaining physically still and specific suggestions of what to do if I am unable. Unlike my first session of meditation exactly a week ago (visit 76), this is not audibly led by someone else in the room; instead it is self-driven. I am given instruction on repeating a mantra in conjunction with the timing of the breath. And that the breath should remain relatively natural, with special attention to full and long exhales. And I learn something else: This is compatible with and reflects the idea that meditation is more about letting go than creating focus.

After meditation, a letter from one of Zen Master Seung Sahn's books is read aloud. I learn about Kong-ans. Kong-ans are specific to Zen Buddhism, but are not necessarily included in all branches of Zen. As I understand from the quick conversations that our time allowed, a Kong-an is a private interview during which a Zen Master raises a seemingly unanswerable question to the student. (Such as: "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" Or: "Where did you come from?," whereas the names of geographical places are not acceptable.) It's the Master's goal to know his pupils well enough to be able to come up with the question and the phrasing of this question that will allow his pupil to achieve a new way of thinking, expand his/her current capacity of thinking, break out of concrete thought.

If it interests you, go back and read that last paragraph, only this time read it as if I am describing my relationship to my mentors, professors, and critics, when I was a graduate student of fine art, or painting. Because it does describe this. Though, of course, with all due respect, there's a huge difference between my mentors in grad school and a Zen Master. ...this also describes how I approach critiques with my undergrad students, hoping to help them experience personal breakthroughs in their artwork.

Throughout the evening is an emphasis on achieving a state of "not knowing." Not just saying that I don't know what will happen; I don't know everything—but more of a state of being "unknowing." Personally, I interpret this (not knowing if it is fully correct) as adopting a sense of wonder, perhaps? A faithful embrace of the unknown? It's the best I can do at such a short introduction to the idea.

eightieth visit: Aug 22nd 2011 Roman Catholicism (murals)

2011-08-25T18:06:00.002-07:00

11:30am monday
St Nicholas Croation Catholic Parish
Maxo (Maksimilijan) Vanka's murals
24 Maryland Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15209
millvale

Nearly two years ago, another artist I know visited this Millvale church for a tour of Maxo Vanko's murals. This was before gatherings was even an blip in my mind. She highly recommended. "The murals, the tour was so great, perfect—everything about it. Even the fact that the tour guide's name is Mary."

I had been saving this visit, trying to maintain an even sprinkling of landmark-Pgh-classic-visits in the flow. Finally, I give Mary a call. I ask if it's possible to have a tour after a Wednesday morning mass. She tactfully suggests that I sign up for a Monday instead—a Monday when she has already agreed to give a tour to "a photographer from out of state. I'm 83, you know, and it would just be easier for me that way." Agreed.

I arrive. The photographer is not present. Instead two other tour-goers. And also Mary, of course, but only for a short while. Between our phone conversation a couple of weeks ago and this morning, Mary has officially retired from her tour guide duties. We listen to her give final advice to Bill, who is to permanently take her place, and we watch her ceremoniously hand the church keys to him. Fare thee well, Mary.

Bill grew up in Millvale. After obtaining a degree in art history, he lived for 30 years in New York City, and gave tours at the Frick Collection there before recently settling once again in the Pittsburgh area. Today he is providing his very first tour of the Maxo Vanko murals at St. Nicholas Croatian Catholic Church.

These murals were not created simply for the sake of beauty in worship, and they go beyond the usual narratives and ideas of Catholicism. Vanka, who was born in 1889 and immigrated to Pittsburgh as a result of this commission, began the murals in 1937 and then returned again to the project in 1941. The parish priest at the time gave Vanka very specific perimeters to follow regarding the painting behind the main front alter, but beyond that, the design and content of those on the remaining three walls and ceiling were left completely up to his artistic discretion. Though they do address religious content, Vanka's 1937 murals are very much about the immigration experience, specifically that of Croatians. The paintings executed in 1941 directly address the atrocities of WWII—gas masks, death, religious persecution and all. Want to know more? Oh, too many words can ruin things sometimes. You'll just have to see for yourself.

seventy-ninth visit: Aug 21st 2011 Hinduism and Jainism (Shri Krishna Janmashtami)

2011-08-25T18:06:00.001-07:00

8pm - 12:45am sunday evening
Hindu Jain Temple of Pittsburgh
(Shri Krishna Janmashtami: celebration of
Krishna's birth)
615 Illini Dr, Monroeville PA 15146
monroeville

In Novermber 2010, I gave an informal talk about my artwork (including this project) to a group of University of Pittsburgh art students. Present at the talk was Yog, who subsequently signed up for my spring 2011 foundation design class. Yog, who is on his way to becoming an amazing illustrator and graphic designer, and whose father is a priest at this temple, invited me to Shri Krishna Janmashtami. Thank you, Yog.

I arrive, Indian standard time (fashionably late). Others are also just arriving and yet others are already leaving for the night. But there are enough worshipers seated across the wide room to necessitate a lengthy visual hunt for Yog. No worries. I have never felt awkwardly alone at Indian-cultural events. Never excluded. Before long, an elderly woman named Indhira approaches me. She has come from India to visit her daughter, to whom she introduces me. She asks me what country I am from, I'm assuming because of my dress. It almost makes up for 40 years of wishing that I could claim a non-American ethnicity and had learned a second language at birth. Just a life-long jealousy of those who can. Maybe in my next life.

Finally, I spot Yog across the room. Though I wish Indihra could join us, I worry that the awkward zig-zag trek through a sea of seated worshipers would be hard on her, so I excuse myself as politely as I can manage, and join Yog.

Some of the things Yog and I talk about:
Obviously the temple serves both Jains and Hindus. Yog's family is Hindu. Though there is some commonality between the two beliefs regarding larger theories and concepts, Jainism is not a branch of Hinduism, (nor the reverse) and a distinction between the two beliefs is made within the temple. I look into this later at home. If taken in detail, the differences between Hindu and Jain beliefs are great in some respects. For example, they do not share scripture. And to Jains the origin of the world is eternal; to Hindus it is a creation. Additionally, Yog explains that there is a specific Jain alter, and that Jains don't believe in a god(s), while the Hinduism is centered around three main Gods and their avatars. Yet tonight, and assumingly on many other nights, in this temple the two groups are interspersed throughout the same room. Yog says: "Hindus and Jains get along. We share the same culture."

Beyond this, I learn:
This temple is more festive, colorful and less orthodox in than the SV Temple (my 14th visit). Or simply put, here there's a little more emphasis on general Indian culture as opposed to religious culture. Until the rituals at midnight, the observance comes mostly in the form of music, with different groups of musicians taking the stage. Including Yog's father. Later a priest offers a homily, some portions in Hindi and some in Sanskrit.

Though it's optional, Yog fasted today, eating only fruits and drinking water, if I'm remembering correctly. So we can add Hindus to my list of religious fasting in August, or any part of this month (+ Eastern Orthodox Christians and Muslims.) Others?

for more about Krishna: see this entry, 48th visit...

It is well after midnight when I leave. The night owl in me does not mind, though it's been a while since I've followed a late schedule, so I am a little out of practice. "Is this the longest service you've been to?" Yog asks at two separate instances. Maybe. Or maybe tied with my Passover Seder, 52nd visit (for which unfortunately I could not stay the full length)... Longest? We shall see. 21 more chances left.

seventy-eighth visit: Aug 20th 2011 Seventh-day Adventist (Christianity)

2011-08-25T18:05:00.000-07:00

11:15am saturday
Hillcrest Seventh-day Adventist
2340 Wylie Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15219
hill district, middle hill

Often I am asked how I decide which places of worship to visit.
Some I attend because of their local prominence. Some because of suggestions from congregants I meet...
But a lot of it has to do with maintaining balance:
To balance grand-scale architecture and congregations with visits to the intimate. Familiar neighborhoods with those that I seldom pass through.
Beliefs that I know very little about with those of which I already have some understanding.

This, my 78th visit:
is intimate in congregation and building-size, in a neighborhood I tend to only pass through for the purposes of this project.
This is my first encounter with Seventh-Day Adventists. Besides the fact that here the Sabbath is observed (and services are held) on Saturdays—hence the name "Seventh-Day,"—and besides an emphasis on the second coming—hence the name "Adventist"—to me the teaching is familiar.

I am greeted warmly. Almost all of the speaking, including the sermon is delivered by Elder Mamie Clemons. Elder: yes; but firecracker, too. While she addresses us, from my place in my pew, I take in my surroundings and think about ideas for the drawing I'll do during the service. Until I hear this: "I'm not going to name names, but you know who you are. You'd better put that away and listen to what I have to say." She continues preaching for a minute, but then, again: "I don't know what you are looking at, but you'd better put that away. I will wait. You know who you are." She's not talking about me; I have not even unpacked my pencil and paper. But needless to say, I don't draw during this visit.

What else:
a drum set and electric organ.
hymns.
a fabulous lavender, sequenced jacket.
mention of hope for a safe school year, free of gun violence.
I concur.
More warm wishes from those around me as I exit and head home.

seventy-seventh visit: Aug 19th 2011 Roman Catholicism

2011-08-19T17:03:00.001-07:00

7:00am friday
Epiphany Catholic Church
184 Washington Pl, Pittsburgh PA 15219
downtown, central business district

This week I got an urge to get up really, really early and go to a Friday morning Mass, in a huge, old historic building in a bustling part of town. Those who know me know this not in line with my normal behavior. But then again, one might raise the same point about this project in its entirety.

Not long ago I learned that Epiphany is no longer holding their 2:30am Saturday night (technically Sunday morning) Mass. (First begun in 1905, dropped in 1991. Began again in Nov 2010, and apparently dropped again.) BUT they do have a 7am Friday morning Mass.

I went.
Yes, it was really, really early (for me). Yes, the building was huge and old and historic. And gorgeous. Does downtown Pittsburgh ever bustle? Close as I'll get. Craving satisfied.

seventy-sixth visit: Aug 17th 2011 Theravada Buddhism

2011-08-19T16:37:00.001-07:00

7:00pm wednesday

Pittsburgh Buddhist Center

111, Route 908, Natrona Heights PA 15065

natrona heights

Theravada Buddhism is the "oldest of the surviving Buddhist traditions." The two resident monks (or Bhantes) at PBC are from Sri Lanka.

This is a story I will tell through snapshots of the people I meet.

Before the meditation, I meet:

Ven. Soorakkulame Pemaratana ("Bhante P")

I phoned him last week. He has offered to coach me a bit on meditation before the session actually begins, as long as I come early. I do. My lesson: sit on a pillow (zafu), cross-legged (lotus-style for the more advanced), back straight, but shoulders relaxed, openness in heart, chin parallel to floor, tips of thumbs touch each other and hands rest at calves, or palms down and hands rest on thighs. That is the physical part. The rest is mental. 2 kind s of meditation that day: Loving kindness and Breath.

He asks a few questions about gatherings. Before I get very far Bhante P interjects: "Art and drawing is a form of meditation." I stop explaining.

I meet Odessa. She says she knows she's seen me here before. (Not possible.) Ends up that she remembers me from a conversation we shared at the Nuin Center, my 12th visit. And I remember her, too.

In the next minute, I meet Joshua, who serves a leadership role in the meditation and knows a lot about the different forms of Buddhism. He is a former photographer (journalism) and to that end has traveled the world. He says my dress looks steampunk. I can sit with that. Seconds before the session starts, he puts a vase of flowers in my hands saying, "We'll give you the full experience here tonight. Let everyone touch these." (I am to carry the vase past every participant, offering each an opportunity to touch the bottom of the vase, before I ceremoniously place it on the front alter.) He also calls on me to photograph the first few minutes of the evening. And helps me with my camera's flash.

We chant. Prayers are chanted in the Pali language. Phonetic prayer books are provided to each, with English translations on facing pages. We meditate. We are given an opportunity to talk about our experience. Two do. One is the youngest meditator, a boy probably 10 years old or so. He says this: Usually, when I meditate, I am a horse at the derby, but this time I was a dog in a meadow. It was really good.

We talk about a principal of Buddhism. Characteristics of the human mind: it wanders, does so alone, dwells in a cave (our body), it is formless. A simple summary: If we learn how to subdue our minds (with awareness), a freedom is achieved. ...basically, how to chill out when we are stressed or worried about things that probably will never happen. Pretty useful skill, I think.

In the end a blessing ritual involving a string that unites the room. It reminds me of the blessing of the challah, during Sukkot, my 5th visit. From one of the Bhantes, each of us receives a sprinkle of blessed water and a yellow string tied around out wrist, similar to the Hindu Diwali observance, my 14th visit.

After the meditation, I meet:
A young ceramicist, also a first-timer. She comments that she feels Buddhism is so applicable to current life situations. So far, I cannot argue. I also feel that, in my gatherings experience to date, Buddhism is the strongest example of religion existing as a philosophy.

I also meet Keith, the owner of a new restaurant in Regent Sq: Root 174. (If plans hold, Arohan and I will go there tonight.)

And I meet a quiet, gentle man who asks if I've been to Rodef Shalom and Poale Zedeck (yes, both)—where his family once worshiped; experiences there played a huge role in his childhood. He thanks each person for something specific as he leaves; he turns to me and mentions my project.

I had been saving this visit, thinking (according to my web research) it would be my only Buddhist gathering experience, located 20 miles outside Pittsburgh proper. I left today with a list of other meeting groups, including some within city borders. I am already booked full as far as the remaining 24 visits in this project, but I'll have to adjust and make room.

Interestingly, at the end of this and my last visit, both religious leaders asked if I had been to a mosque yet. Asking in a way to make sure that I don't forget. Refreshing. I have been to one, 7th visit. Been trying since last week to contact another. Not forgetting, not forgetting, thank you.

seventy-fifth visit: Aug 15th 2011 Eastern Catholic Orthodoxy (Dormition of the Mother of God)

2011-08-19T10:48:00.000-07:00

9:00am monday
Holy Ghost Byzantine Church
(Feast of the Dormition of the Mother of God)
225 Olivia St, McKees Rocks PA 15136
mckees rocks

In the same way that the High Holy Days did not feel complete unless I attended Yom Kippur services, my 68th and 69th visits would not feel complete unless I attended Mass on this day, the Feast of the Dormition of the Mother of God. The day that Mary's great sleep (death) is observed. This day is also known as the Assumption of Mary.

Holy Ghost Byzantine was recommended to me by, Lynn, a member of Door of Hope (visit 21); I believe she attended this church while growing up. "Go there," she said. "It's beautiful."

I went. It is.

During the sermon, I notice that the chandelier (400 pounds-worth) is slowing, but undeniably spinning. I am tired. But I am sure of this. And I notice (Does anyone else?) that it stops as everyone is leaving.

After services, on her way out, Helen introduces herself and comments on my dress. I explain. "Oh, can I take a minute to look and see?" She asks about some of the different additions. She tells me about an annual Eastern Orthodox pilgrimage that takes place in Uniontown, 1.5 hrs away, every Labor Day weekend. (I look it up when I get home: one of the largest in North America. Have I mentioned that I would not do this project in any other part of the US?) She offers to take me there next time she makes a trip. Says there's a Catholic gift shop the size of a supermarket. She encourages me to say hello to Father Firko, as he's very busy and is sure to slip away any minute.

I do. Busy or not, he offers a memorable conversation. Very much in the spirit of gatherings.
About icon painters: they fasted and meditated while working, as their work is considered to be manifestations of messages from the Spirit. And what they do is actually called writing, not painting. (Again referring to the idea of message-communication? Or to the fact that images in churches served as teachings for those who could not read? Or simply the fact that visual art is a language in itself?)

We talk about carry-over from Judaism to Orthodoxy and Catholicism. "You see, it was stated that the intent was not to destroy the previously-established religion," he says. Elements were carried over, adopted by and preserved in the new faith (the earliest forms of Christianity). This includes the architecture of the sanctuary: a screen separates the large, common space from the space where the most holy objects are kept, echoing the structure of Jewish synagogues at the time. And in this designated space: an Ark in synagogues, here the Tabernacle; a staff in both (Aaron's, which blossomed); even the Eucharist, kept behind the screen, offers metaphorical reference.

So often I witness such negative emotions when others have spoken of this phenomenon. Or they simply deny it, emphasizing differences. Why do some see this sharing as bad?

And we talk about the hierarchy of angels: Seraphims, Cherabims and Archangels. Messengers. All invisible in normal circumstances, but believed to be present in a sanctuary during worship. And to frolic in the chandelier, perhaps?

seventy-fourth visit: Aug 14th 2011 African Methodist Episcopal Christianity

2011-08-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

11:00am sunday  
Bethel AME Church  
(first AME Church west of Allegheny Mtns,  
& oldest black congregation in Pittsburgh)  
2720 Webster Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15219 
hill district   

I admit that am surprised that I am still discovering things, 74 visits into this project called gatherings. Realized during this visit: part of why I do this is to seek out evidence of passion. Expression of passion. Here in Pittsburgh. The kind that has nothing to do with football.  

Many times I don't find this during my visits. But Bethel AME does not disappoint; at the first AME Church west of Allegheny Mtns, the oldest black congregation in Pittsburgh, passion has not dwindled.

"Something came over me this morning... I said something came over... Can somebody say 'Amen'?" Now I know why I am drawn to call and response. I need to witness passion to feel human. I need to make art to feel human.   

Before the service begins, Chris comes up behind me. "You are Becky? I apologize that the staff and clergy did not get your email yet. I run the website. It was just now forwarded to them." No worries: my timing, not his.   It's refreshing (and rather surprising) to find someone who cares so conscientiously about this as to approach me.

And others approach and welcome me, full-heartedly. The sun is not the only emitter of warmth this morning.

Do I fully agree with all that is said this morning? If I said yes, I would not be doing this project. And this project would not mean anything without such moments.

Music is a huge part of the service here. Choir at front alter. Electric organ hums at will. Boy no older than 10 sits behind a drum set. Not just sits. He's pretty amazing.   Nick Cave began singing in an Anglican church boys' choir. And who else? All of Sly Stone. Otis Redding. My dark rocking hair-artist in Portland, at her father's services. She's pretty special, too.

seventy-third visit: Aug 13th 2011 Orthodox Judaism

2011-08-16T20:19:00.001-07:00

9:00am saturday
Young Israel of Greater Pittsburgh
5831 Bartlett Street, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill south

Upon arriving, I am nervous during the moment that it takes me to find the women's section. A short moment: I join the far end of the room, thankful for the 1/2 hour to myself.

And thankful again when the woman in front of me turns to ask, welcoming me:
"Are you here for the Bar Mitzvah?" Her name is Marlene. (I explain that I did not know there was one. I explain gatherings. Lucky: I had not attended a Bar or Bat Mitzvah since I was 13 or so. Back then there was a long string of many—growing up, about half of my friends were Jewish. None of them Orthodox, though. All of the Bar and Bat Mitzvahs I attended then were formal and took place on Saturday nights. They were a huge part of my early teen social life, a complicated and not always pleasant period of time. It was nice to experience one in fresh perspective.

The sermon: Why do we repeat things? Why are words and phrases sometimes repeated in holy text? For emphasis, perhaps. Or for poetics; sound and rhythm. Final answer: so that the words become your personal שִׁירָה (shee-RAH)—poem or song (the same Hebrew word means both). The Torah is a שִׁירָה (shee-RAH). Psalm.

Another woman in front of me, next to Marlene—Maya—turns to me and whispers that the cantor we are listening to was saved by Schindler; his family's name was on the list. I breathe in reverse for a moment.

At service's end: Kiddush, in a large upstairs room. Exchange greetings with Rabbi Silver in the stairwell. Marlene comments repeatedly—we are a small group. I have to say that Young Israel of Greater Pgh is much larger than many churches I've attended, for certain. The room is filled with several long tables and a multitude of serving bowls: lachs, pickled and pasta salads, challah, bottled lemonades and teas; delicious.

I sit with Marlene, Ed, Ed's parents and I talk with Maya. She had been attending different synagogues in Pittsburgh before this one. "After living in a country where there is no religion, you work your way through the levels," she explains. Maya grew up in Russia, under laws aimed to render the practice of Judaism impossible.

A speech of gratitude is delivered by the newly-mitsvahed.

Ed says they must go, as the family is having lunch at their home. And might I join them? I answer that I should really return home, too. Goodbyes and they leave the table.

Maya turns to me: you really should go with them; they are really very nice people and would not ask if they did not want the company. With her description, I realize that the meal is as much (or more) a part of observing the Shabbos as the meal my mother would make after church on Sundays.

I catch up and join the 10 minute walk to Marlene and Ed's home. Then Marlene and I run ahead—Ed's homemade challah, inadvertently left in the freezer, needs to be put out to thaw.
At my hosts' home: I am gently reminded that what has been turned on and/or off since sundown on Friday (lights and switches) stays in the same state until sundown tonight. I stir slaw. Put out another place setting. Meet Gladys and Uncle John. Seven of us all together.

I am humbled by the hospitality, but it's come on a day that I'm more tired than usual, (short on sleep for several days) and though I'm known as a quiet person, I'm a little more quiet then usual today. But this is also my way of taking in, being present. I hope that my great appreciation of Ed and Marlene's opening their home is perceived. This afternoon is pretty incredible in the respect that I've never been offered an invitation to Shabbos lunch; perhaps a once in a lifetime opp? Thank you.

First: hand-washing. From the 2-handled cup, three spills of water on the right, then left. (I think that's the right order?) And no speaking between this and the blessing. Instead: miming and nods. This was my favorite part of Passover, too.
The food is absolutely delicious. Salads in which every ingredient tastes like the purest form of itself. Ed's challah is well-worth the earlier speed-walk-rescue.

Talk: Every time a Hebrew or Yiddish word is spoken, Ed, Marlene or Gladys turns to me and says the English equivalent, with a nod. To the point where we all start laughing.
We discover that Ed's mother's niece lives with her family 3 blocks from the house in which I grew up in Wyoming, a tiny suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. This coincidence is pretty remarkable. Her kids attend my same high school, classes of 100 and same swimming pool in the summer. And Ed's Mother (and then Ed) grew up a couple of blocks from where I live now. Ed's mother attended the school we walk our dog past every day. The world is smaller than you'd think.

Marlene hunts for a prayer booklet for me with English translations and the best pictures. The biggest blessing comes after the meal, quietly and to one's self.
... And fruit and homemade meringue cookies: mint and coconut.

Eventually, it's time to go.
One thing I wish I had asked: A life of orthodoxy is not for the passive. It requires a remarkable level of devotion. Every Friday, (after a 40 hour work week), before sunset, two days' worth of work in the time-span of less than one must be completed... Does Friday night/Saturday feel twice-earned and twice as relaxing? Does this play a role in the way in which one looks forward to Shabbos? (a day away from driving, cooking, writing, photography, spending money, and use of electronic devices)?
I can't say how long the others remain after the meal that day, talking and visiting. To know this day is set aside for such. Last week I scrambled among 3 friends (10 emails in more than a day's time) to find an agreeable evening when we were all free to sit together for dinner. Nearly a month out from now.

... At home, I keep a folder of ideas for an upper-level painting class I will be teaching next June. In it I write: "Assignment: Before next class, do something or experience something for the first time." Repeat throughout life's practice.

seventy-second visit: Aug 10th 2011 Mission Christianity, prayer service

2011-08-12T11:28:00.000-07:00

7:30pm wednesday
Missionary Temple Ministries
intended: prayer service
238 Penn Circle East, Pittsburgh PA 15206
east liberty

This sweet red brick church is not far from my house. I pass it every time I to go to Home Depot, which is a lot. And every time, I notice the signage listing "Wednesday 6pm prayer."

Only, in my mind, late this Wed afternoon, while frantically trying to finishing my dress-sewing in response to the previous visit before leaving for this one, I mix up the starting time of this visit (6pm) with that of next Wednesday's Buddhist meditation (7pm). At 7pm, I need a few more minutes to finish sewing, and so it is 7:30 before I pull in at Missionary Temple Ministries... and read the sign again... and realize that I am not 1/2 hr late (in itself, BAD) but instead I am a full hour and a half late. Wanting to avoid being all dressed up and having no where to go, I find the door unlocked and enter, selfishly hoping that the group has a lot of praying to do, and that perhaps things are still going.

And indeed so, full on. Or so it looks to me.

What I do not know at that time, is that the lettering on the exterior sign has very little to do with indicating the times at which things actually take place at MTM. The sign contains old info. I had arrived at a time when no prayer service was scheduled. Arriving at 6pm would not have helped, either. But mysteriously, it all works out in the end.

I'll just describe what I experienced.

First, to explain: As far as prayer, what suits me personally, is a more secular approach; for me, prayer is simply an expression of hope. I feel that sometimes drawing can be such. And so I enter today to hope for the end of the causes of emotional angst that is resulting in the London rioting, and to draw. I choose a center pew, 3rd from front.

In the sanctuary:
Is it inappropriate to describe? I had never been to a prayer service. I offer description in answer of my own want of understanding...
2 worshipers kneeling at the alter, elbows on its raised platform, heads bowed.
Plus another turned the opposite direction, back against the alter's supporting wall.
2 others walk along pew aisles, passionately calling praises.
A faint audio recording sounds in the background. I cannot tell if it is completely in English.
A man enters carrying a white towel folded into a small square. Places the folded towel on the ground. Lays his body prone, belly-down, full contact on the carpeted floor. Nestles his face into the towel, nose down, parallel to the floor, and prays.
A young boy plays a Game Boy in a pew to my right.
Once or twice a pray-er speaks in tongues.
Several others enter and join throughout the next 45 minutes.
Worshipers rock in concentration, not unlike the calming movement of worshipers at Orthodox Jewish services I've attended.
A man begins to play an electric keyboard.
And painted in beautiful gothic lettering on the back walls of the great alter, are the words: "Wir aber predigen den gekreutzigten Christum." (As true with many languages, German words placed in phrases don't always carry their literal meaning, but here's my best guess at a translation: "But we preach [about] Christ on the cross." Or "We preach ?only? about Christ on the cross." (And according to my dictionary, "gekreuzigten" is misspelled).

I have no doubt that the present congregation has not a German bone in them, yet this, it seems (perhaps?), was carefully preserved (painted around) when the rest of the room was coated in its current mauve-pink. I could never bear to paint it over, either. A moment of Pittsburgh joy.

As I leave, a kind, kind woman follows and stops me just outside the door. Explains that usually they meet for Bible study at 7:30pm on Wednesdays, but this night was special, and the study-members had decided to open the session with individual prayer. Prayer services are normally only held on T, Th and F at 10am and F at 6pm. Lucky, I am. Or however you choose to explain it.

seventy-first visit: Aug 7th 2011 United Methodist

2011-08-09T21:26:00.000-07:00

11:00am sunday 
Calvary United Methodist Church 
971 Beech Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15233
 north side, allegheny west

Here: Outside, gargoyles eye warnings to me from the mismatched spires—one spire soars twice as tall as the other, otherwise the building's facade is symmetrical. Inside, Louis Comfort Tiffany windows. The largest completed by Tiffany at the time. The figures on these windows are astounding. With full turn-of-the-century romance. This church, like the last, is famous, and all of the above is info that I had heard before arriving. Fully confirmed.

I arrive early, with a little time to kill. Take a minute to call a friend on the front steps; a quick hello. I start to photograph. Two people on separate occasions see me shooting the Tiffany windows and say, "You really should come back at 4:30. That's when the sun is at the right spot so that the figures seem to be pulling forward from the window-plane, floating right here in the sanctuary, in our same space." I hope I can, someday.

I love that it's impossible to dial an exposure and correctly capture the values of the entire window. These windows defy reproduction. Must be seen in person. Visual art has a soul that can't be experienced except in its presence.

I settle in for the service. Curiously, the reading is the same as my previous visit (the 8am service at Emmanuel Episcopal), and sermon again is on doubt.

After the service Ellie invites me to lunch served in the next room. (Prepared by children in cooking class: stuffed french toast, egg mini-omelettes, absolutely delicious and even vegetarian, too.)

Meanwhile, Bob introduces himself to me. We talk about a lot of things including...
-His take on why congregation sizes are dwindling. (Long story short: Immigrants gathered in their churches b/c they missed home. The next generation was different in this respect and spoke English.) 
-Maintenance: The worship-place was symbolic of ethnic pride, and members were more willing to donate personal funds to the maintenance of places of worship rather than spend it on the upkeep of or purchase of a new home for themselves, amongst other things. Priorities changed. Or some feel that the families once were pressured and convinced to donate to their religious institution, and over time they became less vulnerable to this pressure. "They became smart, began to make more of their own decisions," Bob says. 
-He confesses that he chases worship places, too. While driving, he will spontaneously pull over, convince his reluctant wife to join him, hop out to see if it's open, run inside, explore.

Phew. Seven visits in nine days. Lately the more I do, the more I want to do. For me, this is normal and expected in art-making. A friend of mine comments that he feels it's also common in religious observance. In my case, which is the source of the drive? Here, making artwork and going to service are the same things; teasing the two apart for an answer is impossible. But truth be told: I never felt this way when I was going to the same place of worship every week.

seventieth visit: Aug 7th 2011 Episcopal (Bake Oven Church)

2011-08-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

8:00am sunday 
Emmanuel Episcopal Church
(The Bake Oven Church) 
957 W. North Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15233 
north side, allegheny west

This is a Sunday focusing on physical structure. This visit: wholly unique architecture. My 11am today: that and especially the stained glass.

Emmanuel Episcopal was designed by Henry Hobson Richardson, constructed in 1884-86, and declared a National Historic landmark in 2000. Its moniker, "The Bake Oven Church" came about for obvious reasons. I find its stout, sturdy, honest shape to be endearing. Refreshing: no intention to intimidate. The building's original design called for a stone exterior, but proved unaffordable; brick was the answer. The Bake Oven is also famous for the unintended outward slope of its exterior wall, which stopped increasing when the parish house was added to the far side of the church. Ninety percent of the slate covering the sweet, village style, dramatically-sloping roof is original.

It's sweltering hot. Lately it has been hard to be enthusiastic about adding fabric to my dress. I will, I will make it to September without slowing my pace in response to the temperature.   And apparently Reverend Don Youse shares my sentiment, appearing in shorts. I like him immediately.

Reading: walking on water.
The sermon: The inability to accomplish unless focus is achieved. Times of doubt =floundering. Doubt comes about as a result of fear. Asking for help is a strength, but not encouraged enough in today's society. Applies in the studio? I think I've lectured my college kids on doubt before.   Later I meet Jessie. We talk about this project and the importance of artistic community in this field that can be rather isolating. From someone else I catch a 1/2 tale: something about a murder and a mistress in a story involving one of the donors for the construction of this church.

8am is really early for my brain to even think about drawing, so instead of fitting it in during the service, I stay after, with Pastor Don's blessing. First alone in the sanctuary for a bit, then I am accompanied by the pianist's warming up for the 10:30 service. I finish and head out for my next visit, a block away.

sixty-ninth visit: Aug 6th 2011 Antiochian Orthodox, Arabic service

2011-08-01T20:48:00.000-07:00

9:30am saturday
St George Antiochian Orthodox Cathedral (Syrian)
Arabic Orthros (9:30) and Arabic Liturgy (10:30)
3400 Dawson St, Pittsburgh PA 15213
central oakland

Speaking with Father John Abdalah by phone last week, he says I am more than welcome, but (pause) the service will be in Arabic. Exactly why I chose it. For me, it's not necessarily always about what is spoken. It's about being there. And it's actually easier to experience "presence" when I'm not caught up in semantics.

This has never happened before:
I arrive 10 minutes into the service, and am the sole worshiper amongst the pews. Solitariness does not bother me and I am glad to offer the chanters an audience, but I am definitely conscious of the fact that I cannot take cues from other worshipers, as far as confirmation that I am behaving reverently, sitting and standing when I should, joining prayer, etc. A half-hour later others join. And yet more join for Liturgy at 10:30.

This is at least the third time in gatherings that Andrei Rublev (icon painter) comes to mind I hesitate to mention, but here is the strongest yet. It was in March or so that a student turned me on to Tarchovsky's film and the impression/influence is apparently lasting. I don't think I had previously fully appreciated the beauty of Greek and Russion-influenced iconography, but ever since I am quite taken. (Thank you, A.B.) Thus, this roomful of such is quite a treat. Gorgeous. Red with green and teals. No chroma shyness here. Between icons and painted saints, red and green surfaces are embellished with a patterning of gold, which, from my pew, becomes an intricate network of shining filigree.

And I can't help it that this reminds me exactly of the dress I wore in our Hindu wedding ceremony, 14 years ago.

Will it offend others if I write that, as an outsider, I feel there exists an intersection between the observance (physically, visually, ritually) of Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, Eastern Orthodoxy and Roman Catholicism?
Chanting, standing, bowing, taking steps as specifically dictated, rituals of touching (or not touching) objects, gesturing on one's own body, turning to face this direction or that, flowing robes, praying prostrate, kissing items to express reverence, flames, light, peacocks, drinking wine, the taking in of the spirit through food, marking time with sun down and sun rise.

Today I do not take communion, presuming it is not offered in open form. After the service, Father John Abdalah approaches me, wants to answer any questions, and hands me a large piece of communion bread.

After-note~
I needed to clear this for myself, the relationship of Orthodoxy to Roman Catholicism:
For 1000 years the Orthodox Church and Roman Catholic Church were one church. In 1054, they split. Orodox Christianity (with a capital "O"; small "o" is different, less specific), or a.k.a. Eastern Orthodoxy claims origins in Eastern Europe and the eastern Mediterranean. Generally these churches are grouped into 3 categories:
1) Orthodox Churches of the Middle East: including this church, Syrian (Antiochian).
2) Orthodox Churches of Central and Eastern Europe: including Greek, my last (68th) visit. (These more closely follow Byzantine traditions... Byzantine is included as a part of the first group. To me this emphasized interconnectedness over separation. In the same way that no part of art history is fully separated from the rest.)
3) the Orthodox Diaspora: those organized outside traditional Orthodox countries.

sixty-eighth visit: Aug 4th 2011 Greek Orthodox (Great Paráklesis)

2011-08-01T20:47:00.004-07:00

6:30pm thursday
Saint Nicholas Greek Orthodox Cathedral
Great Paráklesis (Eastern Orthodoxy)
419 S. Dithridge St, Pittsburgh PA 15213
north oakland

So much to learn.
I am here for the Services of the Great Supplicatory Canons to the Most Holy Theotokos, otherwise known as the Great Paráklesis.The Most Holy Theotokos is also known as the Mother of God, or Mary. Just in case any of my readers are as new to this as I am, here's some background info, below...

Observation of Dormition Fast: Aug 1-14. During which the Great and Small Parárakelses is chanted on alternate evenings. If Aug 1st falls on a weekday, the cycle begins with the Small Paráklesis. If not, the Great is first. Saturday evenings and on the night of the Transfiguration (August 5th), Paráklesis is omitted. On Sundays the Great is always chanted, except on Aug 5th. Many times rules frustrate me a bit. But these I find rather beautiful.

Transfiguration: considered a miracle. Happens when Jesus, Elijah and Moses gather on Mt Tabor. The Holy Spirit arrives in the form of a cloud. The figure of Jesus is illuminated. Did I completely forget this from my Sunday school years? Regardless, Father Demetrios Gardikes explains to me so patiently.

Dormition of Theotokos: the reason for this observance and of this Fast and Feast. Dormition refers to Mary's great falling asleep (her passing on), observed on Aug 15th. In Orthodoxy and Catholicism, the death is referred to as a "sleep."

In addition to Islam, how many other beliefs call for days of fasting in August?

And what I remember:
We stand throughout the service.
13 of us, including the Priest.
3 worshipers choose to pray prostrate, contacting the ground.
At the back of the sanctuary, in the aisles.
16 pages to turn.
3 voices chanting. At times it sounds as if there are 20.
1 Priest kisses the Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos.
A million times the bells of swinging incense.

So there is kissing in Christian ceremony; I stand corrected.

Father Gardikes stops to speak to me after the service. My impression of him is that of extreme gentleness. He exudes calm. He points out the peacocks adorning the alter's center "Holy Door," through with only Priests and Deacons are permitted to pass, those who carry the Eucharist. Peacocks: the oldest, earliest-mentioned, symbolic animal of Christianity, he explains. Yearly feather molting and regrowth symbolizing re-birth, resurrection. Also a prominent symbol in Hinduism, with different meaning. I notice peacocks during my next visit, the 69th (Antiochian Orthodox) also on the Holy Door, and again at the 70th (Episcopal) this time in stained glass over the balcony at the back of the sanctuary.

Left and right alter doors, "Deacons Doors" (also used by alter boys or anyone with a specific reason to enter the alter—but a specific reason is required) display iconography of Archangel Michael and Archangel Gabriel. I ask for the story of Archangel Michael. Request fulfilled, along with a farewell of peaceful wishes. For several visits after this, my obsession with wings is re-awakened.

sixty-seventh visit: July 31st 2011 Roman Catholicism

2011-08-01T20:47:00.003-07:00

10:30am sunday
Saint Juan Diego Parish, at St. Mary Church
Penn & Garner Streets, Sharpsburg, PA 15215
sharpsburg

Last week, while driving home from an errand, I turn off the main road for a moment of church chasing. This building dominates, hovers over the homes that surround it in a way that refuses to let me simply drive by without adding it to my list. I've been compelled to stop like this before, but this time it's a little different: I immediately feel that I HAVE to visit this church this weekend. I decide to (know that I needed to) come here straight after Oakmont Presby, visiting both churches on the same Sunday. I questioned this, figuring it would have nothing to do with my theme of German travels. I am wrong.

My mother's side of the family claims some German heritage, some Irish, and my father's some Irish and English. And me? All I know for sure is that I have a sixth sense. I joke about this, but it's also very real. See, I am sure that I was drawn off the main road, drawn to stop at this building, compelled to make this my 67th visit, because—as I found out during internet research the night before my visit—it fits exactly into my theme. This parish began in 1845 as a combined German Catholic and Irish Catholic congregation ...until disputes arose between the two ethnic groups. The Irish then went elsewhere, and the Germans built their own church and got their own German-speaking Redemptorist priests.

Visually, this church is very special. There's a 12-page pamphlet at the entrance on its design and artwork. Worth the trip.

What do I remember?
Emails from Father Frank Almade: I will be witnessing his last delivered service there. An invitation to read his blog. An invitation to stop by the sacristy before the service, to say hello to him.
In the sacristy, while waiting to meet Father Almade: A conversation with a church member. She has belonged to this church ever since she was born and her family has belonged for generations before that. She now lives on the hill behind the church in the home where her father grew up with his 7 siblings. (Yes, of German heritage.) She says to me that one thing you will notice about Pittsburgh is that people don't really leave their neighborhoods. I've heard of this phenomenon, this fear of bridges. I tell her that I suppose everyone can just find what they need in their immediate surroundings. She says, "No. It really has more to do with family. The family is usually right there, and no one leaves. Except that I'm getting better, lately. My daughter moved to the South Side, and I go there to see her. I'm getting better about it."

And in the sanctuary, this is what I remember:
The ornate has hardly ever felt so solid.
Attached to the sanctuary, through an archway: the sweetest little chapel, just past the last pew. (Walk in the main entrance and turn left.) A tiny painted, weathered, wooden carved lamb in its gothic cubby. Relics here, too. (Would I have recognized them as such, had I not been to St Anthony's?) And the most beautiful votive candles I've ever seen.

Father Almade receives (in his words) "an Irish farewell blessing delivered by a Polish woman amongst an originally-German(/Irish) parish." He is leaving for his new parish, waiting for him in New Castle.
And me? I leave today's visits in the near suburbs and re-enter Pittsburgh.

sixty-sixth visit: July 31st 2011 Presbyterian

2011-08-01T20:47:00.001-07:00

8:15am sunday
Oakmont Presbyterian Church
415 Pennsylvania Ave, Oakmont PA 15139
oakmont

As mentioned in my last post, in order to convince myself that these first couple of weeks back in Pittsburgh are simply an extension of my travels in Germany and the Czech Republic, I am choosing to visit worship-places with elements that carry over from my trip.

In fall of 2010, shortly after beginning gatherings I received a text from a friend, Dave English. His family owned a funeral home in the Pittsburgh area, so he's well-versed in religious culture here. He sent a short list of visit-suggestions, including this comment: "Oakmont Presby has a cool bell tower." The sentence held significance to me for several reasons. 1) I have an unfinished body of artwork concerning a story about a bell-ringer. 2) E.A. Poe's poem The Bells —sharing a fascination with the range of historic purpose and the range of sonic expression. Beyond and in additional to this I'm enchanted by church bells' massive physicality and that of the gears and ropes that make them move; I'm enthralled by bell-ringers, and bellmakers (Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev).

In Prague, my husband and I climbed to the top of St. Vitus Cathedral's bell tower. The 462 year-old spiraling stone staircase, the bells, the gears, the ropes, a window-peek into the ringer's quarters (table, chair, books and plant) and finally the view from the top—an experience I won't forget. 96.65 meters, or 317 feet, or more than one football-field-length in height.

This morning I wondered if I could obtain permission to climb Oakmont Presbyterian Church's bell tower. I remember as a child, climbing the stairs of the tower at the church my family belonged to. I remember ringing the bell, my feet lifting from the ground on the up-swings. No such experience today in Oakmont. The only access was through a ceiling panel in the church's entryway. A far-fetched fantasy.

I think gatherings is a little far-fetched for Oakmont, too. Following the service, I introduce myself to the associate pastor. I could tell from his reaction (or nearly complete lack of one) that he was a little uncertain of me. Unexpected ideas can be a little frightening to some, I guess. Sometimes my ideas scare me, too. That's when I know it's worth doing.

sixty-fifth visit: July 29th 2011 Roman Catholicism (relics)

2011-08-01T20:45:00.000-07:00

1:00pm friday
St. Anthony's Chapel
(houses over 4200 relics)
1704 Harpster St, Pittsburgh PA 15212
troy hill

Over 4200 relics here. Saints' bones, skulls, teeth, hair, threads from clothing. Said to be the largest collection outside the Vatican. The photo above hardly tells the story—apologies: photography of the interior is forbidden. This you must see for yourself.

Having returned from seven weeks in Germany (including a few days in Prague) I have decided to ease myself back into life here by intentionally seeking out, in these next few visits, certain elements that carry-over from my travels in Germany. To make life here feel like an extension of German travels, because I'm already nostalgic.

When I travel, I skip a lot of things listed in the guide books. I'm more interested in learning about what it's like to live in places other than my home. I love fumbling through language at the grocery, becoming addicted to müsli-yoghurt breakfasts and taking trains into neighborhoods that are labelled as industrial or recovering. But in the end, I am no doubt, a tourist. And so for this first visit back, a tourist I will be.

Though the website said otherwise, St. Anthony's secretary, Becky, was not sure there would be a tour-guide available at the time of my visit. If not, there was always the CD tour. I took my chances. I looked for tour-guide Carole. I looked for the chapel attendant who would supply the tour-CD. I ended up just staring at the huge victorian wooden and glass cases containing 4200+ relics. That's when Betty found me. "Would you like a tour? Would you like me to point out some of the relics and talk about them?"

BTW, from St. Anthony's website:
Relic Classifications
• 1st Class - Typically remains from the Passion of our Lord, Jesus Christ or a bodily remain of a Saint
• 2nd Class - Any item or possession of a Saint (i.e. Prayer Book, Rosary Beads, Vestments...)
• 3rd Class - Typically a piece of cloth that comes in contact with a 1st or 2nd class relic

Betty is pretty amazing. She implies that she remembers WWII. She and one other woman catalogued the relics at St. Anthony's—all of them. Before this, it was thought that the church owned 5 pieces of the True Cross. When she was done, the number was corrected to 14. A piece of the table from the Last Supper. A thread from Mary's veil. A lock of her hair. The larger relics are wrapped in translucent silk or linen and displayed in a reliquary (such as a box with a glass window); the smaller ones are reliquaried in tiny gorgeous ornately-guilded frames. (art: an object—or an act or event— that holds value beyond the elements of it's physical existance.) Many frames are round with watch-glass, some tied at the top with guilded bows. Many of the relics themselves are the size of the head of a pin, or the tooth of a zipper. In these cases, the item's label—the tiny strip of yellowed paper with a one-line typewritten description—dwarfs the object itself. But you will also find encased skulls and the complete skeleton of St Demetrius (disassembled, the compact bundle gingerly wrapped in silk, encased in a box).

At the bottom of several of the cabinets are statues of life-size figures of Saints carved from wood, in reclining poses. Look closely and you will see death-wounds on their necks and elsewhere. "Because many of these saints died by the sword," Betty explains. Rather large vials of the Saints' blood accompany the figures.

"Now let me ask you," Betty says, "When you walked in here, did you get chills? Well, after all the afternoons I've spent here, I still do. Chills every time." I mean this in the most positive and respectful manner (it's the dark side of religion that I always find most interesting): This tour gives me new understanding of the relationship between Christianity and all things Gothic.

An aside—
Speaking of the intersection of Art, Religion and the Gothic, I was able to see this in Berlin. In person, it is absolutely breathtaking.

Back to relics... FAQs
• Relic authenticity? Known because each item was wrapped and/or encased by a bishop, witnessed by two other bishops, and sealed with wax imprinted with the bishop's signet ring.
• How did they end up here? Canon law forbids the sale of holy relics. This collection is credited to the founder of the church, Father Suitbert G. Mollinger. He came from a wealth family and gained a reputation for offering monetary support to Catholic churches in need—building maintenance and such. In return, he might accept a thank-you in the form of a relic or 2. Or at least that's how Betty explains it.
• Why relics? "The veneration of relics strongly influenced piety in general from the 4th and 5th centuries onward, and it also helped greatly to promote pilgrimages. Relics attracted large bodies of pilgrims in the middle ages. ...They made an impact too, on art (reliquaries from the days of Charlemagne, Romanesque and Gothic shrines, relic tablets, relic ostensories from the 13th cent)." ~The encyclopedia of Christianity, Volume 4, Erwin Fahlbusch, Geoffrey William Bromiley.

And this pilgrimage-tour is complete. Beyond this, more unexpected, serendipitous German-travel connections: Some of the relics are boxed with wood from the Black Forest. (I overnighted there last month.) The St. Anthony's also houses wooden life-size statues comprising narrative scenes from the (14?) Stations of the Cross. These carvings were created in Munich, where my feet last touched German soil. Sigh. Am I easing myself into my normal life, or enabling denial? Doess the fact that I haven't fully unpacked affect your answer?

Heimkehr

2011-08-01T20:35:00.000-07:00

Back from Germany.
Spent over a month at an artist residency in Schwandorf, which is just north of Regensburg in Bavaria. Also serving residence at that time were a composer, a writer and another visual artist. All amazing—their company is certainly missed. We lived in individual apartments within a Künstlerhaus and worked all day long in our individual studios on our individual projects. My studio was near a wooded area, guarded by a grand iron gate. There I completed 22 unfinished drawings and inked 53. Additionally, I edited 2 video pieces. All for this project.

We also made scrumptious meals, sometimes for each other. When I ran out of groceries, I rode a little borrowed German bike along a path next to a tiny flowing river all the way to the farmer's market in the adjoining village.

Following, I traveled with my husband: the Black Forest, Regensburg, Berlin, Hamburg, Prague and Munich.

And I visited worship places: two Catholic Masses in Schwandorf/Fronberg, one Protestant service in Schwandorf, and one Jewish service in Regensburg. I have a few ideas for a project I would like to do there soon, before I forget the little bit of German that I know, and after I can perhaps learn little more.

eine kleine Pause, bitte

2011-06-02T04:34:00.000-07:00

I am now in Germany at an artist residency working on gatherings: editing off-site video, inking drawings, going through photos, researching future visits... eating Käsespätzle and avoiding die Gurken (cucumbers). This blog will pick up when I am back in town and able to make new visits. Bis bald! Tschüss!

sixty-fourth visit: May 29th 2011 African Methodist Episcopal Zion Christianity

2011-05-26T12:02:00.000-07:00

10:30am sunday
John Wesley A.M.E. Zion Church
(abandoned, 1993 Designated Historic Landmark)
594 Herron Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15219
hill district

As mentioned, recently I have been attending Jewish services, leading to my artist residency in Germany. I also mentioned that I was hoping to fit this in: one observance of (Christian) services-past, where I’ll simply sit in remembrance of what once happened in that spot. Since I’ll probably be doing a lot of that during my travels. It did fit it in. And this is what happened. On a sweltering Sunday morning, at the exact time of the day during which a pastor's preaching once sounded within the sanctuary walls, I sat on the porch of an old, beautiful abandoned church in Pittsburgh's Hill District. And I thought. And I wrote this:

This is a neighborhood where people notice things. During my first round of grad school a classmate and friend of mine spoke about introducing her boyfriend, Rick, to her hometown of Louisville KY, for the first time. Rick had grown up in NYC. "He did not understand," she said, "that if you parked your car to hike up a hill with someone no one had ever seen before, half the town would know about it by the time you had hiked back down." It is like that in the Hill District, or so it feels today, as I hand-write this on site.

A few minutes ago I parked my car on a side street and walked toward the church. "Better park your car on the main through-way," called a woman from the yard across the street, sitting in a lawn chair, fanning herself. I obliged. She nodded. I feel watched.

I can't shake my consciousness of cars passing. Are they slowing for the sake of traffic laws, or to gawk at me? I can't imagine I'm that easily visible, as far back as this church sits from the street, hugged by hedges. But if I want to know, I have to look up from my writing each time: could be either; only one of the roads at the "T" intersection has a stop sign. I had thought I would be spending a few hours lost in my head, conjuring up ghost-voices from services past. I try. What was it like, the talks about saving this structure, about keeping it in use? The emotions the day that this was confronted: that there were no more sources of giving and the worshipers had no choice but to let it go? Places and bodies forever hold their happenings.

So I sit on the porch and let the past settle around me, thankful to be surrounded by concrete and brick, providing a coolness of castle-like air.

This, the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church (a denomination established in the US arguably in 1796), is not to be confused with the African Methodist Episcopal Church, though both exist as a response to racial discrimination--their congregations African-American, and through the first quarter of the 19th century, their pastors Caucasian.

The story goes that this particular church is "one of Pittsburgh's oldest African-American faith organizations." (Wiki) In '94, '06 and '08 attempts were mde to resolve flooding caused by an abandoned mine running under the church. Efforts eventually failed, expenses overwhelmed, and the church too, was abandoned.

Did I mention that this is a neighborhood where people notice things? They have to in order to survive. I had to when I lived in Baltimore. That portion of me is alert today. And so the moment his dress-shoes hit the concrete path leading to my porch, I notice. My alarm is hushed immediately, though. Another sense I developed in Baltimore: to recognize safety. He is Pastor T.J.. He introduces himself and asks for my name at least twice during our conversation. Of the two of us, who is the nervous one? I ask if he was involved in this church. Yes. I tell him I think it's beautiful here. He tells me to come to his church, down the street, at the YMCA, Sundays at 10:30, where he preaches. I tell him I will. And how long have I been sitting here? And did I walk here and where am I from? The whole time, he does not ask what I am doing. I tell him that I hope he does not mind that I'm just spending some time here on the old porch, writing. He shakes his head and waves my sentence away before it has fully left my mouth. I think he has the senses, too. He paces the porch while we talk, checking the lock on the door at one end, and then at the other. Yanking. With noise. Twice. Before he turns to go he says to me: "Be careful." Twice.

I am certain: Someone was watching and sent him.

Back in Fall 2010, I passed this building and stopped in hopes of learning when services are held, or to jot down a phone number, in hopes to attend. I left not certain whether the church was still holding services and continued my research at home. I found a website asking for donations for necessary repairs in order to bring the church back to working status. I left an unanswered message at the number provided there. I also decided that this did not mean that I could not visit.

Earlier this morning, I looked for the donation site again. It too, had been abandoned.

In two days I give up my spaces here to live in another part of the world for a bit, to work on this project, to learn about the religious culture there and to think about the history of place.

sixty-third visit: May 27th 2011 Orthodox Judaism

2011-05-26T11:59:00.000-07:00

7:00pm friday
Bnai Emunoh Congregation
4315 Murray Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill

I had been emailing Rabbi Weiss, who welcomed me and suggested that I take photos just before the service... technically before sundown, before the Sabbath is ushered in... while photography is permitted. At 6:50 pm, I am standing at the temple's locked front door. I am wondering if I misunderstood the service time. I am joined by a blind man (Richard) and a partially-sighted woman (I am so upset at myself for forgetting this second 1/2 of the couple's name). They mention they are wondering the same. They also mention they walk to this temple to worship at least three times a week. I figure they would not mistake the time. Sure enough, no worries. Rabbi Weiss opens the temple, waves us in. Encourages me to photograph.

I enter the sanctuary and realize that though I was not mistaken with the time, the only true mistake so far lies in my faith in the online directory that listed Bnai Emunoh as Reform. A plexiglass-division prompts me to ask my female companion: Orthodox? Yes. Up goes my headscarf. Slightly embarrassed. Love traveling prepared, the handy aspect of my dress.

There are about six men present. A Minyan (see last post) is not met. My companion whispers that she has never experienced this situation. Rabbi Weiss approaches me to explain that there are out-of-state weddings and other events keeping attendance low. Because there are less than 10 men present, a different, abbreviated version of the service is performed. Prayers read individually to one's self, beginning on page 50. A small section of chanting, and song. The 44 minutes pass like a single breath.

Rabbi Weiss kindly offers to sit a minute to answer questions. We talk about the overlap in scripture between Christianity and Judaism. I talk to him (slightly hesitantly) about the recorded Kaddish I will play in Germany next week (see last post). I'm not able to read his reaction to this; he is quite reserved. He offers bulletins from Passover and upcoming Shavuos, June 7-9. I regret that will not be in town to observe the holiday.

sixty-second visit: May 21st 2011 Orthodox Judaism

2011-05-26T11:57:00.000-07:00

9:00am saturday
Beth Hamedrash Hagodol - Beth Jacob Congregation
~ the city's oldest Orthodox Jewish Congregation
810 5th Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15219
downtown, bluff

This, my second of three participations in Jewish services preceding my six-week residency in Germany, is a visit to Pittsburgh's oldest Orthodox Jewish Congregation. Beth Hamedrash Hagodol - Beth Jacob used to meet in a synagogue on Colwell Street, which was demolished for the Penguin’s new hockey arena. (no comment) The congregation now meets in a building that formerly served as a blood bank. It stands at the edge of Duquesne University, a Catholic U, where I taught art last semester. The art department has since been shut down, as well. (no comment) Sigh. Sometimes the only thing I can do is turn “Why am I here?” into “Why I am here.”

Running behind as usual, I make my warning phone call on Thursday night, dialing the number posted on the synagogue’s website. “…and I am wondering if you know the times services are held?”
“Well, I should know. I’m the Rabbi.”
(May all my future projects be as sincere and simultaneously provide unexpected laughter.)
“… And is there someone for whom you are saying Kaddish?”

The following night, (Friday, the night before this service) I receive another email from the artist who served a German residency last summer—the same for which I leave shortly. (see previous post, 61st visit) Serendipitously, completely coincidentally, she writes about her work and to ask a favor: “…part of an art project of mine that I worked on … called the Mobile Kaddish - Kaddish is a Jewish prayer for the souls of the dead. I bicycled to places where there were unmarked graves and human remains from the camps, with the prayer playing from little speakers on my bicycle. Once I found out about the deaths in Schwandorf/Fronberg, I spent a lot of time playing it for them there, too. I was hoping that the prayer could continue a bit in my absence if the right person came along, even if it just got played once. I could email you an MP3 sound file of the prayer if you feel interested in playing it from your laptop on the Kunstlerhaus balcony?… I feel a long-term sense of responsibility towards that town, which still bears a tremendous amount of pain. I think anyone who can come there with the intention of love instead of hate is very much needed.” It gives me the chills every time I re-read this passage, the opportunity to take part in an act of healing. This sacred lullaby for ghosts.

Saturday morning I arrive for service, the second of two female worshipers. A bit later, we are joined by Miriam Meltzer. Miriam and I whisper introductions and more. It ends up that she indeed, has come to say Kaddish—all the way in from Maryland, to do so, arriving after midnight last night. Her father’s father, Rabbi Joseph Kaplan helped to begin this very congregation in late 1800’s. But it is her cousin for whom Kaddish is spoken today. She lost him tragically, 2 years ago. She explains that he came to this synagogue twice a day, every day, and was more like a brother to her. Devotion x2. The same I hope to instill in my college art students, to their life’s purpose and to those near them.

Miriam helps me find the correct prayer book. Helps me to stay on the right page. I’m following the English, of course, and as always, have no source of confirmation except to sneak peeks at others’ page-corners, and to listen for cues in the form of the sound of turning pages.

During the service, Rabbi Stanley Savage introduces me to the congregation. He mostly refers to me simply as "Professor," which makes me want to look over my shoulder to see whom he’s addressing. I can tell it’s because my last name is a little puzzling to him, so I introduce myself using the formal version of my first name: "Rebecca." Which lately (with all due respect to my parents), I wish was spelled Rebekah. Because I feel that’s more honest to the pronunciation.

Miriam whispers that it takes the presence of 10 men (a Minyan) to make an Orthodox service valid. There are exactly 10. I wonder if they ever have to call someone in? Each takes a turn reading. The last, with a long, thin face, dark salt and pepper hair, a day’s growth of scruff, chants with a voice I’d pay money and give up studio time to hear. Effortlessly. As if he does not know.

After service, I am introduced to 2 brothers, who look exactly alike, except for differing heights. One is a musician and reacts with enthusiasm when he learns that I make art. Brings up Picasso. (He invented cubism, right? But he draws like a child, I have always thought. I have never understood.) But children draw so beautifully, their intuitive marks. Then we grow up and forget how.

Upstairs for Kiddush. Rabbi: “Eat, eat. Have the whole Danish, no splitting in half, none of that. Eat. Have another cup of wine. You know you have to drink that in one gulp or you have to have another. Can you see I’m trying harder to come out of my shell lately? I’m usually so introverted.”
I can’t not indulge. To clarify, the cups are tiny. Tiny as in communion style, if that is your frame of reference. And in both cases, a blessing involved.

Rabbi Savage invites me to accompany Miriam and himself back down to the sanctuary. We search among plaques to find the names of Miriam’s family members. A simple light bulb next to each one, so that it may glow at Yahrtzeit. (I already know this one: so close to German's "Jahrzeit" literally meaning "year-time" or anniversary, in any case, in any culture, often specifically implying that of a death).

I finish absorbing the morning. Please come back. We can talk more and you can take pictures. Miriam wishes for my email. A fist-full of the ephemeral and it’s hardly noon.

sixty-first visit: May 20th 2011 Conservative Judaism

2011-05-20T20:30:00.000-07:00

7:30pm friday
New Light Congregation
1700 Beechwood Blvd, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill

Except for 3 days of the year at the First Lutheran Church, apparently there are no services offered in the German language in Pittsburgh. This surprises me, as there is a church in Baltimore (my previous home city) that has such every Sunday. As opposed to Baltimore, Pittsburgh has a Germantown. And quite a significant German ethnic stronghold.

So instead, I have decided to attend Jewish services until I leave for Germany. And, if I can fit it in, one observance of Christian-services-past, where I’ll simply sit and think about what once happened in “that” spot. Since I’ll probably be doing a lot of that during my travels, in the general sense. The known history of the US is so short. You can't do that in quite the same way here.

Today, before services:
~ Regarding Israeli-Palestine negotiations, I learned that Obama “declared that the prevailing borders before the 1967 Arab-Israeli war …should be the basis of a deal.” (NYT) This involves retreat on the part of Israel.

~ As mentioned, I am about to spend time at an artist residency in Germany. Today I have been exchanging emails with another artist who served the same residency last summer. We have only made each others' electronic acquaintance (as opposed to an in-person hello). I began with banal questions about electrical adapters and internet. Eventually, our conversation turned to include that fact that her work also is inspired by spiritual belief and practice. I am looking forward to working on gatherings (video and ink drawings) while in Schwandorf. In addition to the fact that my mother’s family's Christian faith is German in origin. (see first visit)

Today at services:
~ I enter the room. Not a moment passes before a congregant darts across the room to hand me his open prayer book, before fetching another for himself from the front of the room.

~ There are nineteen worshipers present. No one is afraid to give me a good honest look. Which means no one will be afraid to talk to me. I look forward.

~ Homily: Rabbi Perlman begins by stating that he will not talk politics today except to acknowledge President Obama’s stance and to say, “It is difficult to be an American Jew today.” After 10 minutes of talking politics, he reminds us that he is not going to talk politics. Have I mentioned I experience more laughter in Judaism than in any other faith? Even considering the history. Perhaps, at times, in order to survive the history—I’ve heard it said before within the community.

~ L’kha Dodi
Come, my beloved, to meet the bride,
and let us welcome the presence of Shabbat.
…
Arise! Leave from the midst of the turmoil;
Long enough have you sat in the valley of tears,
…
We shall rejoice and sing happily.

And as the last verse is sung, we turn 180 degrees to face the door of the sanctuary, to welcome “Queen Shabbat,” as she arrives.

~ I think of Loring Cornish, a Baltimore artist, who spoke to my Obsessions class. I remember him talking about a piece of his, which addresses the use of the word “Jew” and his intent to reveal and re-establish the beauty of identity after so much persecution. He is not Jewish, but understands strife from an African American perspective.

~ Two candles are lit. A gesture: two hands cupped over the flames, as if to gathering the smoke, wafting toward self, both hands to forehead, pausing there. So similar to the gesture I have done several times over during Hindu pujahs.

After the service, over tea, coffee and homemade sweets:
~ It is explained to me that during the service, wine and grape juice is offered to congregants in celebration (welcome) of Sabbath. Though, actually, the first person I ask is unable to answer. I love that she is unable to answer. It is such a part of her life that it does not matter. But the meaning exists just the same, unscathed. As is often the case in my experiencing these rituals. As far as performing acts without fully understanding the meaning —something hard for me to avoid completely, no matter how much (how little, really) time I have to research— my rule to myself is that I do nothing visitors should not do, and I do nothing that feels insincere to me; nothing that feels like I am "pretending".

~ And it is explained that candles are lit to initiate the evening, to welcome holiness. Similar to my understanding of Hindu prayer ceremonies. But there it is often full on fire, and specifically to invite the presence of the G-ds.

~ Anne mentions that Rabbi Perlman is rather new to the congregation, and when he arrived at New Light, he brought with him new melodies to familiar chanted Hebrew; his notes were different than the previous Rabbi's. So, there is more than one way, even within the same branch of Judaism. Same overall meaning. And—I dare say—(everything) from the same root beginning. Vielleicht.

pursuit of a German visit

2011-05-13T13:21:00.000-07:00

I am looking to attend an entirely German-spoken service within the next 2 weeks before I head over to fulfill my artist residency in Bavaria.
I have rec'd a couple of tips as far as finding such, but alas, they have not proved fruitful. Please leave a comment or email if you know of any! Thank you.

sixtieth visit: May 8th 2011 Compline (choral prayer at day's end)

2011-05-08T22:08:00.001-07:00

8:30pm sunday
Compline: choral prayer at the close of the day at
Heinz Memorial Chapel (non-denominational)
University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA 15260
oakland

Below I have written about the 58th, 59th and 60th visits in one entry. These visits are to churches which all have windows designed by Charles Connick. (see 57th visit) He also designed windows in the East Liberty Presbyterian Church's (ELPC) (13th, 22nd, 26th, and 27th visit).

...Additionally, I finally have a watered-down version of an answer to my question raised back on September 19th: Were there any architects who built places of worship for one religion, then agreed to also build one for another? Well, as far as denominations: Ralph Adams Cram designed the ELPC, the First Presby Ch of Edgewood (59th visit), AND the Calvary Episcopal Ch (58th visit). One man, two different denominations. I imagine I'll find more examples of this (or please chime in). Ultimately, I'm hoping I'll find an architect who designed places of worship for two entirely different faiths.

Three services today, and this is what I remember:
9 minutes, 3 minutes, 8 minutes late.
In all 3: grey glass windows, blue, rose.
and candle light; in the third, almost nothing more.
positive thoughts pile in 249. never stop.
The first two: sun and the word gatherings (not from my mouth).
Father Rugh, Pastor Wilson and Dr. Alastair Stout.

I
A week of violence, loss, death and terror:
how is this addressed? the giving of the self,
coming together, the last supper.
Bread braided like challah, my gift.
It's not that religion and art are about each other;
it's that they can be about the same things.
Can I speak about my discoveries?
A girl named Christina.
A window of Robert E. Lee, pointed out by his relative.
A pane to be repaired following the storm.

II
All the ways to receive communion.
Luke was the best storyteller of all:
from Jerusalem, I become the character not named.
A pastor's silence to compose mid-traurig [sodden body]
and I can't forget: sodden sleeves, raw lider.
Alter carvings ascend forever.
One man alone, Um nicht verteilt seine Erkältung.
A staircase climbed.
These windows are smaller, figureless, stronger.

III
Nothing spoken; all in song.
Someone asks: Does the music inspire drawing?
Exposures so long, I still my camera quarter-minutes.
Finest luxuries: being read to, being sung to, drawing in the dark.
Air presses the creases of fluted stone.
windows rise 73 feet: these among the tallest in the world.
Above my head: space lofts sound, 80,000 roses or a fortune's armor.

fifty-ninth visit: May 8th 2011 Presbyterian

2011-05-08T21:45:00.001-07:00

11:00am sunday
First Presbyterian Church of Edgewood
120 East Swissvale Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15218
edgewood

(see sixtieth visit: May 8 2011 Compline)

fifty-eighth visit: May 8th 2011 Episcopal

2011-05-08T21:41:00.001-07:00

9:00am sunday
Calvary Epsicopal
Holy Eucharist (Rite II)
315 Shady Avenue at Walnut Street, Pittsburgh, PA 15206
shady side

(see sixtieth visit: May 8 2011 Compline)

fifty-seventh visit: May 1st 2011 Baptist

2011-05-02T11:00:00.003-07:00

11:00am sunday
The First Baptist Church of Pittsburgh
159 N. Bellefield Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15213
oakland

This time I arrive early enough to photograph before service. Early enough to meet Margot (sp?), a greeter. She recognizes me as a visitor. Before service, she gives me a back-stage tour of the full immersion baptismal font. Empty at the moment, but easy to imagine the ritual descent into water from the stairs on either side. The font is visible from the front alter only as a marble facade. Wish I could see a baptism here, but the next is June 2nd and I’ll not be around.

I learn that Margot’s husband, DJ, is a retired Methodist minister. She had always admired the architecture of this building, so they became members two years ago. I asked her if it was OK with him to switch from Methodist ministry to Baptist membership. “Oh, they don’t hurt us any here,” she says.

The service. A line in the sermon coming straight from my storytelling and mythmaking painting class: Everyone craves fairy tales and the truths depicted in them. The question of bunnies and eggs: how did these come to be associated with Easter? Reverend Denning mentions bunny proliferation (new life) and the cracking open of eggs (birth, re-birth). Physical objects serving to render abstract beliefs visible. I’ve heard that there’s a Pagan root to these symbols, too. This notion upsets many Christians. All the time, we borrow things from other entities of thought and the meanings evolve accordingly. Why can’t this be OK? I am remembering more than one conversation with more than one college art student of mine in puzzlement over the anger that surrounds this within the Christian realm.

After the service. Reverend Gary Denning first clears a falsity: The Episcopal Church of the Redeemer, my 8am visit (#56) just before this one, was not built by the same architect as this church. This, The First Baptist, was designed and built by Bertram Goodhue, while The Redeemer by Howard Gilmann Wilbert. With all due respect: Reverend Denning is good friends with Reverend Robison. A wink and a nod, I’m certain.

I hear the church’s history, dating from 1812 (not much younger than the very oldest congregation in Pittsburgh). History includes activism in slavery emancipation and much international and minority social outreach continuing to the present.

Rev. Denning tells the story of the stained glass windows. First the backstory. People who don’t live here may not know about Pittsburgh’s strong lineage of local glass artisans. Charles Connick is one of them (1875-1945), and this church is his first major work ever. Later work includes renowned churches of NYC, San Francisco, Chicago, Boston and beyond. He is known for his Gothic Revival style, influenced by Arts and Crafts, exactly the architectural mix of First Baptist. Upon his death, the New York Times described him as “the world’s greatest artisan of stained windows.” His company, based in Boston, continued to lead the field through its closing in 1986.

Connick’s windows at First Baptist: Reverend Denning describes the meaning behind certain symbols. The fact that the deliberate order in which the symbols appear results in an expressive path intended to carry the viewer, the worshiper, through the sanctuary. This path is meant to reflect the emotional and psychological nature of the arrival to worship, spiritual transformation, and exit or return to the secular world.

More info? Here you go (skipping some, a simplified explanation): Enter the back of the sanctuary directly from outdoors. Look to the upper left side windows. The first four beatitudes, those referring to the weight of the secular world, the way in which some may enter worship: those poor in spirit, mourners, the meek, and hungry. At the front alter, windows at either side refer to the crucifixion, strife, pain, conflict. Here the chronological order of symbols criss-cross wildly, jousting between opposing walls on either side of the alter. As you turn to leave the sanctuary, following the path on which you came, look up and left again—the side opposite from the first. Symbols on these windows represent the last four beatitudes, those referring to spiritual transformation, post-worship: the merciful, pure in heart, the peacemakers, the righteous braced for persecution. And finally, you exit the sanctuary passing under symbols of the resurrection.

And I’ve made Rev Denning late for his deacons' meeting.

Connick did the windows for another church I’ve been to: the ELPC, visits 13, 22, 26 and 27. And three others in the Pgh area I have not yet experienced. I think I’ll let this impetus create my path for a bit.

fifty-sixth visit: May 1st 2011 Episcopal

2011-05-02T10:59:00.002-07:00

8:00am, sunday
Holy Eucharist (Rite I) at
The Episcopal Church of the Redeemer
5700 Forbes Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill

My decision to attend this and the next church (First Baptist) on the same day stems from my hearing that both churches were designed and constructed by the same architect, Bertram Goodhue. Alas, with all due respect, during my 57th visit I learned this is not true, and confirm with my own research. The Redeemer was actually built by Howard Gilmann Wilbert. No loss. And still much discovered. But the question (see last two paragraphs of the post) does remain open. Unsolved mysteries can be interesting than knowing all the answers, anyway.

I am the last to arrive and to choose her pew, but only a few minutes late despite the early hour. Nine worshipers occupy the sweet diminutive Lady Chapel, lying aside but fully contiguous with the main sanctuary. I love the smell of the interior in the wet spring air. It is so quiet that every sound resulting from every movement is audible: the creaks of her wooden floor, praying bodies shifting in pews, a page turning, the slide of my pencil against the paper atop the hollow metal box on which I draw and write.

The sermon. Reverend Mike Wernick. The subject of locking doors in fear and doubt. Of finding security in faith. The story of Thomas, physical proof. I think of Caravaggio.

Communion received kneeling at the front alter. I think about what it must feel like to feed your congregation, hand to hand, and then send them out into the world. Is it profane (yes, probably; and definitely egotistical) that I think about giving final reviews on Tuesday; last words to students whom I will miss greatly; watching those who are graduating go out into the world.

After the service, I leave to photograph the exterior. Return to the chapel to draw. “Forget something?,” Father Wernick asks. “No, just hoping to draw if that’s OK.” I explain gatherings, as my voice mail yesterday was so last minute, of course he has not received it. He asks if I am aware of the changes happening in the past 40 years within the Episcopal churches in Pittsburgh. I am not. Apparently in that amount of time, the number of Episcopal congregations in Pittsburgh has halved. Many Episcopal churches have left the denomination to become Anglican, a more conservative philosophy. (Yes, the Church of the Ascension, my 55th visit, is one such.) This migration is a result of several things: the adaption of the ‘new’ liturgy in 1979 to replace that of 1928. The ordination of female priests beginning in the 1970’s. And the ordination of partnered gay priests.

Father Wernick has been the Priest in Residence at The Redeemer for three months (and having lived in Pittsburgh for just as long), pastoring while Rector Rev. Cynthia Bronson Sweigert is on leave. He says that it is thought that there will be a place for him in this city.

While I draw, a man I recognize from the service joins me in the chapel. “I love your dress,” he says. “Glad you were with us today.” I explain my project. Ask if he is always at the 8am service. Oh no. 8am? No, not every Sunday. See, I’m Reverend Wernick’s partner.

At home, I mention to Arohan that I want to contact Father Wernick to thank him for being so honest in sharing a bit of the history of the denomination in ways that others would probably hesitate. Instead, he calls me the next day. (today, in the middle of writing this, actually) So I am able to tell him in person.

During this second conversation, I also learn: Priest Wernick was Jewish before converting to Christianity. And, as I understand, he believes that Christianity offers (through Christ) one of the many paths to God, and fully acknowledges the many other ways. (Please correct me on any of this, if needed, Father Wernick.) He explains that, there is something else he had not at first understood to be congruent within the Christian faith: that there can be a focus on inclusive love over condemnation... in regards to sexual orientation and of course in regards to the other discriminations that exist in our world culture... and that this can be found in the scriptures… revealed through his theological studies of linguistics and archeological matters. And that our search for the spiritual, throughout all humanity, on a global scale, is more universal than one would imagine. I mention Joseph Campbell. He mentions a few others I might want to look up.

 I walk away with this collection of motley thoughts. Including the incredible range of interpretation (of words, of pictures, of documentation). And undying active efforts.  

Speaking of undying efforts, I surely will never get anything else done with all this writing. This impulse to which I give in. Spoiled rotten, I am.

Bansky's stained glass window

2011-04-18T11:48:00.000-07:00

http://flavorwire.com/171142/pic-of-the-day-banksys-stained-window-at-moca

fifty-fifth visit: April 22nd 2011 Anglican Christianity, Good Friday

2011-04-17T20:35:00.002-07:00

12 noon friday
Church of the Ascension
Good Friday observance
4729 Ellsworth Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15213
oakland

Good Friday: in remembrance of the crucifixion and death of Jesus, always observed on the Friday before Easter. This service: a three-hour vigil to commemorate the hours that Jesus hung on the cross. Worshipers choosing to attend any one hour will still experience the full sequence of litany, song, and sermon.

I arrive little late, a bad habit I need to try harder to correct (always too much to do in too little time). Accordingly, before I enter, I vow to stay halfway into the second hour. This will put me behind in this afternoon’s drive to Baltimore, but such is the pattern of my life.

A man tends a fire burning in a large metal tub front of the red entrance doors. This, I later learn, will consume the tiny pieces of paper on which prayers or requests of forgiveness are written by worshipers.

I enter the sanctuary. Sing, listen, draw. I notice that three or four artists are stationed in different corners of the church also drawing—using pastels on large easels, representationally, some with models, figures meant to represent Jesus. Something I could never do.

The Church of the Ascension is an Anglican Church, coming from a Medieval Latin phrase meaning Church of England. The congregation incorporates into their worship, elements of Evangelical, Catholic and Charismatic Christianity... although these are not easily distinguishable to me during my visit, probably partially due to the nature of the service that I attended. Besides, I was completely taken by the building; the architecture. Of all the worship places I have visited so far, I feel most inspired by this structure. Not to say it is the grandest, largest or hands-down the most beautiful, but I just feel that something about it matches my personality more than any of the others. Gothic, I suppose, is the most accurate description, but of course most Pittsburgh churches fall into this category. Setting this one off: the warm to cool gradation of colors in the hanging stained-glass lanterns (Arts and Crafts movement?); the amount of wood above my head; the molded concrete resembling carved stone; the faces peering out behind hanging candelabra-style electric lighting lining the left and right walls; the room’s simple, oblong shape. Some sanctuaries are too big for me to feel comfortable. This one is just right. Size-wise it seems appropriate also partly because it is relatively well-filled for a weekday gathering. Relatively well-filled compared to many services I have attended and with a younger congregation than others, too.

I won’t be in town for Easter Sunday. When starting this project, before I changed my goal to 100 and revoked a deadline, I vowed to do one visit a week. I joked that even if I took Christmas and Easter off, I'd still be able to make 50 visits in a year. I didn’t intend this literally, taking Christmas and Easter off, but such is the case. Missing both of these holidays allows me to duck requests to attend this or that place of worship on such fanfared days. A form of serendipitous fairness, I think.

fifty-fourth visit: April 21st 2011 Roman Catholicism, Maundy Thursday Private Adoration

2011-04-17T20:34:00.003-07:00

9:30pm (7 until Midnight) thursday
Saint Paul Cathedral
Roman Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh
Maundy Thursday Private Adoration
108 North Dithridge St, Pgh PA 15213
oakland

This past fall, I met a patron at a south side café; she was taking delivery of a painting she had purchased and we had agreed to meet on a Friday morning. Happened to be immediately after my visit to Saint Paul of the Cross Monastery Chapel, my 18th visit (not to be confused with the church of this 54th visit). It’s the similarity in name that prompted her to mention that she was married at St. Paul’s the Diocese in Oakland. This St. Paul’s (my 54th visit) also happens to be the Roamin’ Catholic nun’s most frequent destination, whom I met at the end of my 34th visit. Cheers to both of these women.

To start: visually, this one is well worth a visit. Whiteness. Huge brimming space.

I feel that the most appropriate time for private adoration is at day's end. Same with making art. And so at 9:30pm I arrive. I climb out of my car, watching in front of me, three school-age brothers, a sister and their father do the same. Imagining this yearly household tradition. I enter the sanctuary and shoot photographs with the other tourists. Sit quietly in a pew with the other pray-ers. Stare at the humbling arches, stories and stories above, and at the faces pushing out of the stone trim, the whiteness of the alter. Decide what it is I am going to draw. Move myself to a pew with a better view. Realize I do not have any unused paper with me. Drive home. Get paper. Drive back. Draw.

It is after 11:30pm when I finish. Two visits plus an unexpected return: I have completed my Maundy Thursday.

fifty-third visit: April 21st 2011 Epsicopal, Maundy Thursday Potluck

2011-04-17T20:33:00.002-07:00

6:00pm thursday
St Andrew's Episcopal Church
Maundy Thursday Potluck Dinner
5801 Hampton St, Pittsburgh PA 15206
highland park

The congregation of St. Andrews met for the very first time on Easter Sunday in 1837, in a downtown schoolroom, before constructing its own church building, also downtown. Years later it was the trend for families to relocate to more residential neighborhoods, away from the industrial city center. Following suite, the St. Andrews congregation relocated again, meeting at this present location for the first time, on Easter Sunday, 1906. Accordingly, months ago, I had decided that I would visit St. Andrews on Easter Sunday. Alas, as the holiday approached, I realized I would be out of town, unable. So, instead, I chose to visit St. Andrews as close to Easter Sunday as possible—on Maundy Thursday.

Maundy Thursday (Holy Thursday, Covenant Thursday, or my personal favorite: Thursday of Mysteries) is the Thursday before Easter, commemorating the Last Supper of Jesus with his Disciples before his crucifixion. The observance at St. Andrew’s comes in the form of a potluck. My favorite potluck contribution comes in the form of desert. So I arrive (very regretfully a bit late… ughh) bearing gifts of chocolate: brownies and chocolate chip oatmeal peanut butter cookie bars, with apologies to those giving up chocolate or sweets for Lent.

As I hunt for an unlocked exterior door I run into Jeff, arriving for choir practice. He walks me to the potluck hall. We both feel that mid-prayer is perhaps the wrong time for me to join the table, so he offers me a tour of the sanctuary, until meditation ends. What I learn: in this worshiping body, music plays a prominent role, and the locally musically renown flock here to contribute and share their skills. The organ is primo, original and was top of the line when the church was constructed. The stained glass behind the alter is Tiffany, and now costs more to clean than it did to install. The sanctuary is definitely not the smallest I’ve seen in Pittsburgh, but it’s remarkably cozily-sized in comparison to its grand style. Inviting and non-overwhelming. All the beauties of dark wood, carvings and stone are there, but in a more intimate scale. Later I learn from Rev. Dr. Bruce Robison that the impetus was to create a building that fits into the neighborhood without dominating it. Responds compatibly to the surrounding residences. Seems welcoming to families. The design is based on that of an English village church. Appropriate, as the Espicopal church split directly from the Church of England at the end of the 1700’s.

I join the potluck table. Take part in the end of a short liturgy. Communion is offered in the way most would recognize as being similar to Catholic Holy Communion: offered to each worshiper individually, and the wine from one cup, directly from Pastor Robison. We fill our plates from the potluck buffet. I meet Stephanie the cyclist, Lois, the Pastor’s wife. Another member approaches me and comments on the lace-like piece hanging from my left sleeve, added to my dress in response to my visits to the three Byzantine Churches on February 20th. "That piece," she says, touching it, is an old French art called..." (um ... note from your author: a French work that begins with "f" that I have forgotten ... sorry). She goes on: "My mother used to make doilies just like this on a loom." The woman speaking to me is in her late 60’s I think, and grew up in France. Here cultural specificities in dress-art serves to connect us, to start conversations. Unexpectedly.

After the meal I spend a good amount of time talking with Rev. Robison. Mostly about the architecture of Pgh churches, of which he has a wealth of knowledge. I add to my list of not-to-miss-es. And I obtain a partial-answer to the question I had raised back during my fourth visit: Were there any architects who built places of worship for one religion, then agreed to also build one for another? Rev. Robison’s answer: For entirely different faiths—he is not certain. But different denominations of Chritianity—yes. Bertram Goodhue designed the First Baptist Church in Pgh’s Oakland neighborhood (1909), and also the The Church of the Redeemer (Epsicopal) in Pgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood. So there you go. (Note from the author added 5-2-11: I have been corrected, as, alas, these 2 churches were not designed by the same architect. See 56th and 57th visits.)

And everything comes full circle: this St Andrews Episcopal Church was built by the same architect who built The Episcopal Church of the Holy Cross …where I first raised this question.

fifty-second visit: April 18th 2011 Chabad-Lubavitch Judaism

2011-04-17T20:31:00.002-07:00

8:30pm monday
Myer and Ann Cohen Chabad House on Campus
Passover Seder
4710 Wallingford St, Pittsburgh PA 15213
oakland

The Weinstein family members, managers of the Chabad House on Campus, are remarkable in their grace, hospitality and generosity. All 3 generations. Here Judaism is a way of life, in the purest, most inviting way. Pretty incredible.

I am reminded of this: My dad once asking me, “Do you ever stop thinking as an artist thinks, in the way that you think when you are making art?” Well, I hope not to lapse too often. I know my soul is happiest when I do not.

Passover and Chabad. Some background: 1) Passover commemorates the story of Exodus, the freeing of the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. 2) Chabad is a Hasidic movement within Orthodox Judaism—perhaps the largest Jewish organization in the world today, with roots in the late 18th century. 3) A Chabad house is a center that hosts services and activities for the local Jewish community. Often, as in this case, it provides a comfortable, less formal setting in which college students can observe, practice and learn about Judaism. A Chabad Rabbi (here, Rabbi Shmuel Weinstein) orchestrates services. Programs and activities are organized, managed and run by his wife (Sara Weinstein) and their children, which, as I hope I’m remembering correctly, range in age from 23 (Chaima) to 5 yrs or so… maybe younger? (Chaima’s name: spelling? forgive me and do correct me!) Chaima’s son, at 17 months, rounds out the 3rd generation.

By now, two others have arrived. Sara, openly: “Did the web really say 8:30? I meant to post 9pm. You’ll have to excuse me while I run up to change.” In the kitchen at the back of the house, while feeding her small son, Chaima talks of her family’s move from Delaware to Pgh 23 years ago to establish Chabad House. She was 3 mos old at the time, and knows no other life, no separation between life and Chabad House, and no desire or need for it to be any other way. “It’s incredibly normal to me—events like this—also incredibly exciting and new each and every time.” Her inspiration glows.

I help prepare the Passover Seder plates. Six nesting spots for the symbolic foods: horseradish and lettuce, the bitter herbs of slavery; charoset representing mortar used in building storehouses; karpas to be dipped in salt-water (tears); a shankbone referring to the sacrificial lamb; and a hard-boiled egg representing festival sacrifice.

Others arrive. Much chatting amongst young women in the kitchen. I meet Patrician, who grew up in Manhattan. She talks about her family: she is African-American-Jewish, but really it’s not so simple—can trace her family tribe: Spanish, Egyptian, and beyond. Imitating her uncle, a Southern Baptist minister, preaching the Passover story “let my Peeee-ple …go” giggling at herself all the while. She invites me to a Seder taking place the next night. I very much wish I would be in town.

Well over 60 …70 Seder participants in total. Tables lined up into one, run solidly right through the wide archways between three continuous rooms. At our table: two regulars at Chabad house, plus one Weinstein son, and a teacher, Kami, invited by two of her students. She teaches at a private Jewish school; this is her first Passover. And my first Orthodox Passover. She has a hard time with the matzah. Especially the eat-a-large-sheet-in-4-min requirement. We laugh about the tradition of swallowing each of the night’s 4? 5? glasses of wine in one gulp. Why? Judaism is to be experienced all at once, fully, deliberately. I actually really like matzah. Childhood memories of begging bites from my school friends’ lunches during Passover. I tell her to try to think of it as a cracker; don’t expect it to taste like bread. The other woman at our table tells her to just think of how hungry she is. I don’t know if either works. Both Kami and I are wide-eyed when we learn the service will end at 1 or 2am.

The Passover Seders I attended previous to gatherings were not Orthodox, and were an hour or so in length. This time: more rituals. This service book: many pages, and much more thorough. Leading to the freedom celebrated by Passover is a story of extreme hardship. The story does seem like it deserves more than an hour’s ponder per year.

Rabbi Weinstein: wonderfully conversational. His children: remarkable. Three of the sons… one maybe five years old or so, one pre-teen and one teen recite prayers and series of questions effortlessly in Hebrew and also in Yiddish. Once Rabbi turns to his son to confirm the age of a figure in the story of Passover. “He was just 18 years old then, right?” “Yes,” his son offers a doubtless confirmation to his father’s question.

Sara says: this is a night for the children. For them to ask questions, too. They had naps so that they can stay up. Pillows at their chairs. Oh how I so badly wish I could have stayed to the end… 1 or 2am and 4-5 glasses of wine. But my drive to Baltimore tomorrow is long, must begin early, and the 6 hours of teaching immediately following (ending at 10pm), is not something I can do short on sleep. Regretful. I leave the house by midnight, but my mind does not.

fifty-first visit: April 17th 2011 Jehovah's Witnesses

2011-04-17T17:50:00.002-07:00

7:30pm sunday
Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses
observance of commemoration of Jesus' death
5311 Mossfield St, Pittsburgh PA 15224
stanton heights

I had been wanting to attend this place of worship for some time. Impetus came to my door in the form of a flyer-invitation to this particular service. Apparently 100 others ...100 beyond the regular membership also rose to the occasion. At this service, worshipers spill out onto chairs in the front lobby, where I find my spot. I am the only female in the room, though it's easy to tell that otherwise we (the group in the lobby) are of all walks of life, all ethnicities and races. Honestly, this surprises me a little.

Here we listen to the sermon via ceiling speakers. Verses from Revelations, Jeremiah, Isaiah. I look for something to draw, to mark my visit. Because some of us are standing against walls, others seated on chairs lining the walls, I notice that I can see everyone's shoes, something not possible with pews. So I draw each and every shoe that I see, blind contours, some not blind. Some feet wiggle and standing ones step before I can finish.

Here's what I learn:
• God is referred to "our gracious heavenly father Jehovah."
• Jehovah's Witnesses are a Christian denomination with nontrinitarian beliefs.
• During communion, a plate of bread and a glass of wine is passed, but only the 144,000 members of the "anointed class" are condoned to physically partake. These are the only members who are "born again" and it is believed they are the only who will go to heaven.
• Because followers object to military service, Jehovah's Witnesses' activities have been banned or restricted in some countries.
• Holidays such as Christmas, Easter and birthdays are not celebrated due to the believed Pagan origins of these days.

After the service, a member named Nyah introduces herself, introduces me to everyone in our pathway, and makes sure I see the sanctuary before I go. She offers her phone number and encourages me to call if I have any questions, or would like an in-home Bible study. She interacts with me kindly and convivially.

This following notion suddenly becomes clear to me, as I start to collect myself to leave. The timing is a mystery; the thought arrives in the same sudden manner in which it will almost seem out of place in this blog. It suddenly dawns on me that, as an adjunct professor, I never tell my college art students specifically what they should believe—except for encouraging belief in themselves—because it has always been obvious to me that it's not my job, though I never really directly thought this through. And I suddenly consciously realize why: some artists (not all, but I'd venture to say many)... many artists would feel that they could not be artists if they were told what to believe. But instead, through our work, that's what we are trying to figure out. Secularly, yes... but even spiritually, there is some overlap I think, with the questions we ask.

fiftieth visit: April 17th 2011 Roman Catholicism, Polish Mass, Palm Sunday

2011-04-17T15:49:00.001-07:00

8:30am sunday
Polish Mass at Immaculate Heart of Mary Church
Palm Sunday
3058 Brereton Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15219
polish hill

The later Masses are in English; I specifically choose this one. I love a service in a language I don't understand.

Lately I've accepted the fact that I can no longer even pretend to myself that I look anything like the other worshipers. And underneath my shyness, maybe because of it, I think this is fun. (We had an awful lot of rules about what we could and could not wear to church when I was growing up.) Many comments have been thrown my way, but the Good Witch of the North remark is still my very favorite. It's really surprising to me at this point when someone says I look nice, referring to my dress. Today, this happens. It sounds really sincere. Appreciated.

The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday. Commemorating Jesus' entry into Jerusalem. I had expected to have difficulty finding parking at this large parking lot-less church, on a holiday. But this was not the case. Hunting for the one unlocked door, I wonder for a minute if I had the wrong time for the service, wrong day for Palm Sunday. So quiet. A small smattering of devotees.

Sitting, I realize I have maybe never listened to spoken Polish. I mean really listened, and definitely not at this length. Nothing familiar. Even if it is right next to Germany.

Within 45 minutes, the service concludes. An usher notices I missed grabbing a palm when I hurried in, and offers one to me. I stay almost an hour looking and drawing. Gorgeous sanctuary. Gold stars pained on the ceiling among icon paintings; both domes. Electric candle-lights dominate in patterned sprays at the alter.

At first I am not alone; others stay to pray. Later I look up from my drawing to see I am the only one left in this massive space. Sculpted Saints covered in cloth* become red an purple ghosts scattered throughout the sanctuary. Angels lofting electric chandelier are left undraped ...visible I mean, not covered in cloth except for the clothing in which they are sculpted. I draw one of the pair. 3-D Elihu Vedder. In the dark, more or less. But it's not just the dark; it's the first day I realize I need my reading glasses, to properly see my marks. Sigh.

Eventually congregants trickle in for the next service, an hour early. A woman stops to speak to me while I draw: it's the next service, the 11:00, that is the big one. Pageantry. And won't I stay? I like pageantry. But I had to go.

And I can add to my running count of
worshipers spotted wearing Steelers garb while worshiping:
1 worshiper wearing a Steelers jacket.
Running Total for the project: 27 (to date)

* I had to look this up: images, crosses and sculptures of saints are covered the last week of Lent... why? Much speculation and differing answers. My favorite is that perhaps even the illiterate need a visual indication that Lent season had arrived.

forty-ninth visit: April 3rd 2011 Presbyterian, emphasis on multiethnicity, social justice, and racial reconciliation

2011-04-09T13:08:00.001-07:00

10:30am sunday
Friendship Community Presbyterian Church
181 Robinson St, Pittsburgh PA 15213
edge of hill district and west oakland

I'm in a rare less-is-more mood (as far as words) and welcome it. We'll see how long it lasts.

Every once in a while I attend a place of worship whose mission overlaps with the ideas in gatherings. This is one of them. An acquaintance of mine, Natalie, encouraged me to attend this (her) church. She explained that this church aims to thrive in successfully addressing issues of "multiethnicity, social justice and racial reconciliation" within their own congregation and beyond. She says that honestly, it's a lot of work and not without pain, but obviously she wouldn't be a member if she didn't believe in it.

I choose a spot at the end of a pew, middle section. Sing. Listen. Watch a mime performance. Fellow worshipers seem very grounded. Not worried about what others are thinking. Not experiencing judgment. Natalie and I find each other at the end of the service. I explain that I thought about telling her I'd be there today, but then realized I do a much better job at this when I'm alone. She is also an artist. I think she understands.

Later that day when I'm between errands, in a completely different neighborhood, someone stops me on the street. He remembers seeing me this morning, across the sanctuary. And I him. I tell him about this project. Unexpected connectedness.

forty-eighth visit: March 27th 2011 Krishna Consciousness, Abhishekam

2011-04-09T13:06:00.002-07:00

4:30pm sunday
Krishna Consciousness
(congregation does not carry a name)
Guara Purnima celebrations: Abhishekam
Dormont Hall, municipal center
1444 Hillsdale Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15216
south hills

I have a student to thank for this visit: Carla, in my "Obsessions" (upper-level painting) class at MICA. She asks if I had managed to include Krishna Consciousness in gatherings. She mentions that I have just missed Guara Purnima, the celebration of the appearance anniversary of Lord Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, occurring on March 20th. A few minutes of research reveals that I can catch the tail end of the celebration: Abhishekam, the bathing of the deity.

First some background info: The International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON)—the non-preferred street term is Hare Krishna—are the largest branch of the Gaudiya Vaishnava religious organization. Krishna Consciousness devotees are considered followers of Hinduism, distinguished by monotheism; devotees focus their worship on Krishna, an avatar of Vishnu. (Vishnu, the preserver, is one of the three deities of Hinduism. The other two include: Brahma, the creator, and Shiva, the destroyer.)

More about Krishna: Krishna (whose name means "black, dark, or dark-blue"... or "all attractive") is revered as the author of the Bhagavad Gita, a holy text of Hinduism. The Bhagavad Gita is considered to be a poem and the documentation of words spoken by Vishnu to his brother, Arjuna, on a battlefield, some 5000 years ago. Imagine the days-length of that conversation, amidst surrounding violence and death. Remarkable, no?

So, I arrive at Dormont Hall municipal center to observe Abhishekam, the bathing of Lord Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. Lord Chaitanya Mahaprabhu is considered to be Krishna and Radha combined. Radha is Krishna's lover, by the way. Beautifully romantic notion, no? It is believed that he has been in the presence of his devotees for the past week.

Six or more families, many children. Even the youngest are so focused in their worship—no shyness about taking part in the ceremony, chanting, playing instruments, nor the short sweet skit following. Men on one side, women on the other. Cross-legged on blankets spread on linoleum floor. (Floor-sitting: I swear that's half the reason I leave feeling calm and centered.)

I explain my presence to several to of the wives there. Not a blink of an eye as if to say, "Well of course you are visiting 100 places of worship this year. Why would you not?" A full welcome. Questions as to how I found out about this evening's observance. "This is the first time we have celebrated this part of Guara Purnima. How did you know to find us?" Answer: The web, and another moment of gatherings' coincidental luck, I guess. Questions as to why my husband (whose family is Hindu) didn't join me. (smiles) This is my project.

Early on, during chanting, finger cymbals are passed to me. "Just play whatever." And so I do.

The Abhishekam: Each observer, one at a time, pours milk, ghee (butter), yogurt or honey from a conch shell onto one of two Vishnu deities (physical representation of the diety; sacred metal figures). I think of this: the role of honey in Judaism, and in Joseph Beuy's Wie man dem toten Hasen die Bilder erklärt, and in the title of Charles LeDray's installation Milk and Honey. (All of which come up in my MICA painting class.)

The sermon, and then dancing. The dancing, like the chanting, is fully accessible for first-timers; simple, repetitive, inviting, passionate.

I see Carla in class the following Tuesday. We talk about the deities and alter, dancing and separation of gender, among other things. At the end of our conversation, she asks: "Did they have food for everyone after?" Yes, but the service had run over by more than an hour and a half, and life's duties were calling (such as planning her class). I needed to head out, but not without a heavy bag of vegan vittles to go. Enough to share with Arohan at home.

forty-seventh visit: March 27th 2011 cross-cultural, sacramental, missional, Christian community*

2011-03-17T17:21:00.002-07:00

11:00am sunday
The Upper Room
5828 Forward Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill

*note about denominational affiliation: The Upper Room is "a new church development of the Presbyterian Church (USA), but the folks who make up our community come from a wide range of backgrounds." -Pastor Mike Gehrling

It's interesting that for some leaders, no matter how completely at ease he or she is in front of a large group, how grounded in the act of expressive guidance he or she is, there sometimes also exists within the same person a quiet self that favors introversion; a self that is revealed in one-on-one interaction. From feedback I have received from my perceptive college art students, I think I might fall into this category. And from my short interaction with Chris Brown and Mike Gehrling, pastors of The Upper room, I think they might, too. Perhaps? For me (and I'd assume for others) the quiet, introverted self is the one you always knew existed. Because, for example, everyone tells you you are shy. The performer-self is the one that is later self-discovered. Maybe this second extroverted version of yourself, this surprisingly different "group-leader" energy emerges as a result of doing exactly what it is you are meant to do. But that's just my speculation.

This is a young gathering, in terms of the average worshiper's age, and also in that the congregation began in a living room not much more than two years ago (if I'm remembering correctly), perhaps not unlike "Shabbat" (my 33rd visit). From gatherings' start, one of my goals was to be sure to include storefront churches; it feels good to be answering this. Speaking of storefront... or rather bar-front churches, Mike and Chris know Jim and Jeff of the Hot Metal Bridge Faith Community (my 11th visit) and the association makes perfect sense to me. Fun for me to see a network reveal itself.

This Upper Room thrives to focus not simply on it's existing members, but instead to answer a calling to "cross-cultural, sacramental, and missional community." The phrase "The Upper Room" refers to the biblically-mentioned location of The Lord's Supper, preceding Jesus' betrayal and crucifixion. And this Sunday's room of worship is Upper in the literal sense of the word, too. I climb stairs lined with lit candles. Take a seat on a folding wooden chair. Sing to acoustic guitar. Absorb a sermon on tolerance. A call to break down existing walls and to cross personal and cultural boundaries. To seek windows instead.

Drawings and paintings hang on the walls of The Upper Room. One of a tree, filled with written responses and observances of belief. It's explained to me that this was created over a period of one summer; congregants adding statements to the composition, whenever moved to certainty that the thought was meant to be shared. (reminiscent of my 23rd visit, Quaker Meeting) I meet Rachel, who recently lived in a house full of 13 artists and now plays a part in overseeing creative activities within the congregation. It is nice to be in an environment full of conversation. Even my shy self agrees. I have an interesting conversation with Mike about Andrei Rublev, the Russian icon painter, whom, two days later, I talk about again, with my painting students in Baltimore.

forty-sixth visit: March 20th 2011 United Church of Christ (and German Archives)

2011-03-17T17:07:00.003-07:00

11:00am sunday
Smithfield United Church of Christ
(and German Archives, 9:45am)
620 Smithfield Street, Pittsburgh PA 15222
downtown, central business district (golden triangle)

(I have so much to say. I am fully embracing the sentence fragment for efficiency. Not that I have not before...)

When I contacted Donn, the church archivist, for a visit to the tower's sixth floor, where the church records are kept, I had no idea how much history I'd stumble upon. Whereas on Thurs (44th visit) I spent time with the oldest Catholic Parish in the 'burgh (1808); today was devoted to the first organized congregation in Pittsburgh. Ever. The oldest one. 1782. German. I didn't know this until I got there.

Archiving was Donn's profession before retiring, and he continues with the task at Smithfield UCC. To my concern about finding him on arrival, he emails: "Just look for Santa Claus." No doubt, his lovely white beard makes that part simple. To spend a minute with Donn is to immediately sense his kindness, generosity, wisdom and his gentle, nurturing personality. He begins by emphasizing the nature of the church's mission: inclusive across all boundaries of race, social class, culture, gender, sexual identity and disability.

When Donn's duty of church archiving began here, members brought him records found in random drawers and cabinets throughout the church. He sorts, organizes, and allows others access via appointment. He'll also do his best to research for families who are unable to travel to Pittsburgh—families tracing lineage and wanting to know, for example, the maiden name of an early Pittsburgh German settler... often listed on the church's baptism, marriage and/or death records. And the records: they are BEAUTIFUL. Hand-scripted in German, fountain ink, the pastor's hand: gorgeous. Leather-bound books, in rows on shelves; the most precious stored in acid-free boxes. The oldest are written in Old German; sometimes prompting Donn to consult the minister of First Lutheran for help translating. Even then, some such puzzles are not always solved. Some handwriting illegible. Donn is generous enough to pull out for me the original deed for the land the church sits on (roughly the whole block), a transaction with the Penn family, no less. (See photo above.)

Don also gives me a tour. The building is magnificent. It's the congregation's sixth home, built 1925-26. (The first was a log cabin.) The 12 stained glass windows in the sanctuary were designed in Columbus, OH and Munich, Germany; figures in a style that evokes Maxfield Parrish or the Pre-Raphaelites. Downstairs includes a social hall, a gymnasium (in the winter used as an over-night cold weather shelter for homeless), and even a room once used for film projection.

9:45-10:45am: an hour full of history. I'll just spew out the rest of what I found to be most interesting: German inscriptions top arches' peaks of the 3rd floor sanctuary—German was spoken at services through the 1920's—the first 140 years of its establishment. The current building was erected on the former church's cemetery. The bodies were moved, of course... then moved yet once more, poor bones. Fire in 2007 spared the sanctuary but left much smoke damage. Insurance covered the cost of scaffolding to allow for ceiling-cleaning. Ladders would not have even come close to necessary height. Additionally, the walls and ceiling are not simple smooth plaster; all in molded relief pattern. Not a quick, easy scrub, to say the least. The 19-foot rose window (that's almost four times my height) at the front of the sanctuary was transported from the church's previous building. Visually, this church is well worth a visit.

Time passes so quickly during service. Mention of Japan and Libya. A plea to find a way to create peace in the life of others just once this week, a nod to Lent. A choir is accompanied by one of the few working organs I've experienced in the city. (In other churches organ maintenance becomes too much of an expense and pipes lay silent.) The sermon: It's your life. Seeking answers to problems introspectively, spiritually.

Afterwards, I speak with Reverend Patterson, who warmly welcomes me. Meet Hannah and Tara. (I do hope you email me! Would love to keep in touch. bslemmons@verizon.net) And Doris, who has been coming to this church since she was born. Her grandparents immigrated from Germany and began her family's generations of membership. Conway came up to me as I lagged after service to draw. His wife Betty ushered me to the post-service lunch, free to first-time visitors. Thank you, especially to Donn. Not to be forgotten.

forty-fifth visit: March 19th 2011 Reform Judaism, Purim

2011-03-17T17:03:00.001-07:00

7:00pm saturday Purim
Temple Sinai
5505 Forbes Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill north

Lee Abrams, whom I met at Tree of Life*Or L'Simcha on March 5th (42nd visit) had suggested that I check out this synagogue as part of my project. (Thanks, Lee.) The stone building itself is stunning. Temple Sinai is housed in the Elizabethan-style former mansion of John Worthington. The sanctuary has been added on. I walk through the building imagining what it would have been like to simply live there every day, calling it home. Fancy.

I attended Purim Spiel at Temple Sinai, a kids' (and some adults) Glee-style, Glee-themed performance of the story of Purim.

The briefest synopsis goes like this: Esther, Queen of Persia, saves the Jewish people, her people, from Haman's intent to kill all the Jews in his surroundings. Throughout more than half of the story, Esther conceals her Jewish identity even from her own husband, King Ahasuerus. Rumor is that in order to keep kosher (without calling it kosher) she claimed to be vegetarian. The rumor of that rumor is that it's her diet of legumes, grains, nuts, and seeds that kept her looking so young and beautiful. Her smarts apparently just came naturally, of course. (Is she the reason that Judaism is passed down from mother to child, and the father's faith does not play a role? To honor her?) Back to the story... anyway... it's her revealing her true self as a Jew that allows for the triumphant ending.

Two days ago, admittedly, I knew nothing about Purim. My hour and a half at Temple Sinai fixed that. And I heard that Purim food is the best of all Jewish holiday food. Just had dinner but am craving a taste as I type. Especially Hamantaschen.

And I also learned that Glee takes place in Lima, Ohio, where my Aunt lives and two of my cousins grew up. Also my home state. I had no idea.

forty-fourth visit: March 17th 2011 oldest Catholic Parish in Pgh, Irish

2011-03-17T16:52:00.002-07:00

12:05pm thursday
st. patrick's day
The Feast of Saint Patrick
Old St Patrick Church
1711 Liberty Ave, Pgh PA 15222
strip district

Established in 1808, St Patrick is the oldest Catholic parish in Pittsburgh. As far as ethnicity in the 'burgh, immigration-wise: Polish, Ukrainian, and German typically first come to mind. However, the Irish, led by Rev. William F.X. O'Brien, established this, the very first Catholic parish in Pittsburgh, when there were only about 20 Catholic families (total!) in the area. The building was dedicated before the pews were constructed—families were encouraged to hire a carpenter to build their "own" pew and choose its installation spot according to plans drawn on the sanctuary floor.

Due to fires and growing membership, this building in which I attend service is the fourth location of St Patrick's Parish—a building dedicated on St. Patrick's Day in 1936. There are green shamrocks painted into the stained glass. Another bit of building description, from http://www.saintsinthestrip.org/5_1_0.html:
"Included in the church is a piece of the Blarney Stone from Blarney Castle in Ireland. The stone was placed in the tower that sheltered the baptistery."

The main stairs leading to the second-floor sanctuary, I have read, are identical to the Holy Stairs that Jesus climbed to reach Pontius Pilot. The cool bare marble stairs are preceded by a large sign reading "HOLY STAIRS ascend on knees ~ only. [otherwise] please use stairs on either side of front door." I choose the second option. Many worshipers do not. Very impressive. --My excuse: Honestly, I did want to experience this, but I have the kind of knees that hurt after kneeling for a few seconds on padded carpet. From my years of gymnastics, probably. And I really wanted to go on a run later that day.

Week-day services, in my experience, tend to be very intimate in size. This one, taking place at noon doubled my assumption in this way. Not so. I was on time, but found the last seat. Following this: standing room only in the sweet, rather small chapel-like space. Heads of black, silver and red-tinged hair with very little in-between. A sea of green sweaters, green jackets, green dresses. Green ties. Green handbags, green headbands, many green Mardy Gras beads, emerald jewelry, berets of green. Even a green 2-piece suite. Green leather kneeler pads.

2 priests. One Irish. One Italian, who says he grew up thinking he was Irish like all his friends... then wishing so, when he found out otherwise. His family didn't talk openly about their ethnicity. Upon arriving in this country, his parents(?) grandparents(?) became immediately American. My family: similar. I don't really know my definite lineage, just rumors and speculation; so jealous of those who do. But I have found some evidence for educated guessing.

Sermons: The churches world-wide are sparsely attended. It's not that people are no longer religious, it's that there is so much pain, he says. He continues: Never doubt the power of prayer. (To me, prayer = any simple expression of hope. Can a drawing can be an expression of hope?) Talk of the Priests' travel to the Green Isle. Talk of the importance of journaling, writing, and how he can't stop. An Irish trait, perhaps?

forty-third visit: March 15th 2011 Orthodox Judaism

2011-03-15T19:18:00.003-07:00

7:15pm tuesday
Shaare Torah
2319 Murray Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill

... "I know who you are," he said. ("You do?") "Yes. You are the lady who gave Dorothy her ruby slippers."

I am usually in Baltimore at this time each week, teaching. But spring break has gifted me a Tuesday during which I have had the luxury of working on my dress all day long (a little behind am I still), and attending Mincha/Ma'ariv (weekday prayer) service.

The service: I enter the women's seating section of the sanctuary, back corner, sectioned off. Two rows, four chairs each row. One female worshiper in attendance in addition to me. She acknowledges me with such quiet kindness, handing me a prayer book, indicating which page to begin. Translucent white curtains hang 6 feet to the ground to our front, and also top the bookshelves to our left. My companion worshiper opens the curtains during the sermon. Queen Esther of Persia, heroine of Purim (a holiday, March 19-20) and misunderstandings of certain lineage. Curtains close during prayers. Stand, sit, stand, bend knees and bow, 3 steps back, 3 forward. I follow the English version on the left-side pages.

There's a familiar feeling coming from this weekday having been made holy by observance, like that from my childhood when Christmas falls on a day other than Sunday.

I actually feel that my dress should be bigger and more unusual by now. But maybe that's only my opinion. Every once in a while I sense a reminder that to others, it's speaking clearly. Often I'll run a errand on my way home and am greeted upon my return with a smile from my husband: "You went to the grocery in that?"

Relating to this, tonight's comment comes from a young boy, as we leave the synagogue—it's my favorite comment so far. "I know who you are," he says. ("You do?") "Yes. You are from the Wizard of Oz. You are the lady who gave Dorothy her ruby slippers."

Note to self: Research to include Wiccans in gatherings.

I am also aware that in a certain light, the dress looks very Middle Eastern, and even more so with my headscarf on, as is the case tonight. This was not specifically my vision from the beginning (the sewing pattern I used for the basic shell of the dress is described as Gothic)... but the Middle East does include 'the Holy Land,' no? So I let it have its way as things evolve. More than once Rabbis have asked me, "Where are you from?" Because of the question's phrasing and the silence after my answer, I'm starting to think that the expected answer would be the name of a country, not a Pittsburgh neighborhood.

One of my students, a few weeks ago, commented that being an artist means having a free pass to do whatever it is you need to do in order to express your ideas, while (most of the time, but not always) escaping the label of "crazy." It's one of my favorite aspects of choosing an artistic life. Maybe living a pious life can achieve the same, at times? Yeah, maybe.

ash wednesday

2011-03-13T14:31:00.000-07:00

I was away from Pittsburgh on Ash Wednesday. I do wish I had been able to attend Catholic services that day, never previously having the opportunity to observe the day myself. And while navigating the streets of NYC, several times I am reminded: smudged black crosses bared on foreheads. A specific moment that day, I am honestly stunned by the vision: tall and willowy, a woman entering the room, dressed in weightless billowing layers of black, a coal-black cross dragged on white skin, her forehead's pith.

forty-second visit: March 5th 2011 Conservative Judaism

2011-03-13T14:22:00.002-07:00

9:45am saturday
Tree of Life*Or L'Simcha
5898 Wilkins Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15217
squirrel hill

(Thank you Joel Goldstein and Rabbi Charles Diamond - "Rabbi Chuck" - for welcoming me, and Lee and Harry Abrams (sp?) for your warm hospitality and conversation at kiddush. And to Rose for having a birthday, hence such delicious kugel on the table.)

I have been missing Judaism. If I can be so bold to make a brash generalization: In my experience so far, compared to other religious leaders, Rabbis are funny. As in a sense of humor. Lately I have been missing the freedom to laugh during service. I found it. I loved it.

A huge amount of congregant-participation during this service. Rabbi Chuck appoints "volunteers" by name for Torah readings, spontaneously. Most remarkable to note is the lack of self-consciousness with which teens and adults take the stage. At age twelve to seventeen I was a wreck to stand, unprepared with no notice, in front of a crowd. I credit the environment he orchestrates. Through the participation, Rabbi Chuck takes breaks. During several of those breaks he chooses to sit next to me and to ask about gatherings. Refers to me as 'one of the flock'. Introduces me to the congregation. It is inspiring to see someone so obviously happy in his work.

Sermon: regarding familial jealousy. And the former tradition of inheriting the life of priesthood (father to son, patriarchally) with no other way to attain the position of high priest. But then there's Harry Houdini, born Erik Weisz, the son of a Rabbi, whose life-path strayed an escape. (Houdini: Art and Magic at the Jewish Museum in NYC... comes down in 15 days.)

At the end of service, I am scooped up by Lee and Harry Abrams' conviviality and find myself at their table for kiddush. Early in our conversation Harry says: "Regarding all the different faiths, in the end, all that matters is whether you are good to others." Harry fought in WWII. Precious story about Harry's mother who lost contact with her brothers and sisters after leaving Russia before World War II—an Uncle in Russia finally located Harry's mother via a letter hand-carried from Russia to California by an American businessman returning to the US from work-related travels there. Yes: a hand carried letter, and word of mouth. Only to have contact thwarted due to spy suspicion. Still: value knowing in the existence of family, if that's all that could be achieved. For the family, a half-answer to memory and longing.

Just days before, while teaching my Obsessions painting class at the art school in Baltimore, we had talked about the importance of visual memory. And Anselm Kiefer's NY show (Dec '10), entitled "Next Year in Jerusalem." He is a non-Jewish German, born the year WWII ended and no stranger to controversy. Mentored by artist Joseph Beuys in Dusseldorf, who fought in WWII. We talked about Beuys' and Kiefer's embrace of the notion of the alchemic property of art: it's ability to change something (anything) from the physical to the spiritual. Houdini the magician. A painting is not just canvas and paint, a letter is not just paper and ink.

Harry also tells me of a Rabbi who was present in the congregation of today's service, who many years ago, set out to pursue teaching positions in Catholic schools. His goal (pursued and achieved): to teach religion classes there, to specifically stop the perpetuation of the teaching that Jesus was killed by Jewish men acting in the name of their religion. I remember seeing this fore-mentioned Rabbi in the congregation when Rabbi Chuck pointed him out by name during the service. He is by no means a remarkably young man in appearance, but not as old as I would wish this story to warrant.

Several members insist that I return for another visit some day. I'd very much like to.

forty-first visit: Feb 27th 2011 Missionary Baptist

2011-02-27T13:38:00.002-08:00

11:00am sunday
New Testament Missionary Baptist Church
1036 Penn Ave, Wilkinsburg PA 15221
wilkinsburg

As I mentioned in the previous post, this little church has been drawing my eye for some time. I pass it at the start of my weekly drive to Baltimore every Tuesday morning. No website, no answering machine; so I just show up according to the time posted on the signage.

One room. Or so the building appears, with the front door opening directly into the sanctuary. Four pairs of shoulders fit to the right of the center aisle and four more to the left, width-wise in the wooden pews. Choir crowds behind the pulpit. There is no where for your mind to be except here, present.

Once when telling a group of art students about this project, I received a remarkable reaction from one of my listeners. It was as if there was something terribly frightening in the process of imagining herself doing what I'm doing here in gatherings. She spoke very slowly, loudly, and deliberately: "That would be a really, really intense project." Admittedly I was anxious before my first few visits, but not in they way her reaction implied. Maybe she had a bad experience with religion. Maybe doing unfamiliar things in unfamiliar surroundings really frightens her. Maybe I'll never know. But her reaction stays with me. And I am left wondering from time to time if there something I'm unaware of, regarding this project, something really intense slated to happen during one of my visits.

This probably is not exactly what she had in mind, but this visit does have an intensity. Somewhat like the realness of Baltimore, that I miss after having moved away.

I have been the sole Caucasian attendee at services many, many times over and this began as such. A few minutes after I arrive, the only other white visitor chooses a spot directly next to me. I learn his name is David, and he visits so often that he is referred to as family—is welcomed as such by a woman speaking from the pulpit. He is thin, tall, at least 83 and nimble. Vocal during call and response. Heart-felt: "Oh, my father in heaven, glory be." The Bible he carries with him is beautiful. Titled in the most Gothic of all lettering, tattered leather cover, and a much, much thicker spine than I've ever seen in any edition. I learn that his Seventh-day Baptist church meets on Saturdays, so he often comes here on Sundays.

Today the congregation here is celebrating the end of Black History Month. Biographies delivered by members of the congregation, a planned program of speakers on Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., Barack Obama. It was a white person who started the underground railroad, did you know? During the time of slavery, you see, there were some white people who were kind, [the speaker relays] and we need to thank them.

Following, a high-school-aged, young adult female asks to speak: It was not too long ago that we were not allowed to even walk in front of schools for white children. Now we sit in the same rooms to learn. That was a fight. People my age are not doing what we can with that privilege. My own classmates get mad and they refuse to do their homework, refuse to write their papers because they say their teachers are prejudiced. Well, what is that? That is just one more paper that that teacher does not have to grade. (reaction of support from congregation) That is not making any point, that is not achieving anything, that is holding ourselves back.

Offering is collected. More song. Few more words.

I put on my coat. The woman in front of me turns to look me in the eye, grasp my hand to shake it firmly. It's funny, the places I feel pulled toward within this city.

fortieth visit: Feb 27th 2011 Covenant

2011-02-27T12:57:00.001-08:00

8:30am sunday
Covenant Church of Pittsburgh
2110 Andrew Drive, Wilkinsburg PA 15221
wilkinsburg

One Friday this past fall, I had almost attended a 6am prayer service here. I had gone as far as contacting the administration and receiving their welcome, but in the end my schedule dictated otherwise. I have had my eye on the little yellow missionary baptist church in Wilkinsburg for some time now (see next post) and that one felt right for this Sunday. Ends up that this one is not far from that one; their services an easy time-spread... and so align my stars for today.

This church has a huge congregation. Officials directing the arriving traffic. Security guards at the entrance. A purple-feathered hat a few rows in front of me, to the right. Royal blue plumes front left. The woman directly to my left has brought fashion magazines and catalogs, for multitasking, but I guess the sermon holds her attention after all. Everyone has brought their own Bible. TV cameras and their operators are perched throughout. One in the center of the sanctuary on a platform. One on stilts front right. I don't think I ended up on the overhead screens that day, but lots of other people did.

Calls for a volunteer to assist in acting out Bible passages.

A reminder that you have to believe before you can see. (...and the same goes for artwork-ideas, before you can see them come to fruition, right?)

I had time to run to the grocery (next door) between this and my second church visit of the day. Eggplant and broccoli. Someone from this service recognized me there. I helped her find the strawberries.

thirty-ninth visit: Feb 20th 2011 Ukrainian Catholicism

2011-02-20T14:27:00.003-08:00

11:30 sunday
St John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic Church
109 South 7th St, Pittsburgh PA 15203
south side flats

...my personal commemoration of Andy Warhol's life (d. Feb 22, 1987) via attending his church... it is said that the repetition of the iconic screen in the Catholic church that his family attended during his youth, influenced the repetition of celebrity-icon faces in his work. (not the church pictured in this post)

More than once, well-wishers have referred to gatherings as a tour. Their kindness is valuable to me, but to be honest, the word "tour" has never seemed right... maybe because of the amount of time I spend thinking about the project when I'm not actively doing it, or the passivity the word implies. Today I have not stopped thinking about gatherings, nor have I approached it passively; but, today is the day that "tour" might be the right way to describe this Sunday's visits. What started out as 2 visits, became 3—my car following behind Father Thomas Schaefer's, from his first to his second Parish; from my first to my second visit. ...leaving yet enough time for the third (which had been originally planned as my second). And I had the pleasure of crossing my favorite bridge twice: the Hot Metal.

Today, all three of my visits are to St. John's,
and all three are Byzantine style Catholic churches:
distinctively-shaped domes
often employ the Greek cross plan
combining elements from Greek, Roman, and Islamic styles
origin: Istanbul, Turkey, formerly Byzantium

1st of my 3 visits on 2-20-11
St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Church, Jane Street, south side.
Father Thomas Schaefer.
It began with a desire to personally commemorate Andy Warhol's life (d. Feb 22, 1987), by attending his church. A member of the Door of Hope (21st visit) had told me that this was his family's choice place of worship. But I come to question this after arriving, when I learn that this particular congregation had moved to this building in 1958, well after Andy had moved to NYC. Could she have been referring to the building only, and not the people? Commonly, things are complicated that way in this city. Regardless, it still doesn't seem right to me. Some art historians and critics claim that a visit to Andy Warhol's church leaves one to wonder if he was not influenced by its interior: the repetition of portrait-like images of saints in its elaborate icon screen echos the image-repetition in Warhol's screen print portraits of celebrities. But here this notion is not as apparent as I had expected.

No loss, of course. The building is beautiful and I enjoy the quiet time. (Yes: that is a non-electric chandelier pictured above, fire-powered with real candles—the only known to still be in use in a Byzantine Church in the US.) After the service a young worshiper and her mother asks about my dress. Father Schaefer overhears me telling them about gatherings, just chatting about the project in general, mentioning nothing about my quest for the Warhol church. He offers: "Well if you'd like a double header, you could follow me to my next gig. Just five minutes away." He continues, "It's the church where Andy Warhol was baptised." Bingo. Wrong church, right priest. And I am on my way.

2nd of my 3 visits on 2-20-11
St. John Chrysostom Byzantine Catholic Church, Saline Street, greenfield.
Father Thomas Schaefer.
This church is well worth a gander. And to me, the experience of service, also. Restoration completed in the 1990's renewed quality, but did not touch character, expression of ethnicity. The colors used in the interior iconic paintings are exquisite. Rich. Full. Unapologetically chromatic, never brash. I usually need the nostalgic crackle of old paint in these churches to win me over. Here not so. Fresh is done so well, that I didn't miss antiquity one bit. Father Schaefer explained that it's the largest iconic screen in the city. I'd think in several cities. Maybe he did say the US. Don't know. I do know that he said the Warhol family did not claim this as "their" church. However, Andy is buried in the associated cemetery. I didn't question further. He was getting ready to lead mass, and sometimes I prefer mysteries to remain mysteries.

3rd of my 3 visits on 2-20-11
St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic Church, S. 7th Street, south side flats.
Father John (Ivan) Chirovsky.
Another beautiful church. Two small children tire of sitting quietly and begin to dart about, parents supervising. A joyful focus I am always thankful for. In so many ways the Catholic services recall the Jewish services in my experience. (see esp. 6th visit)

In the basement of this church, parishioners meet every week to make perogies, sold to local businesses and families to raise funds for the church. Rumor is that they are the best you can buy.

All 3 visits:
My sister explained to me a few months ago that the scripture and homily content are pre-determined each Sunday for all Catholic churches throughout... the world(?).
So, all scriptures read today mentioned Seraphim and Cherubim, creatures that I first came to know through Madeleine L'Engle books from my childhood (see last week's post, 36th visit). At least 2 of today's 3 churches had painted images of these creatures in their interior. And at least one of my former students at MICA had addressed these as characters in her drawings, also in response to L'Engle's books. The homily at today's 3rd visit concerns the prodigal son. I had a chance for a Roshomon experience (3 takes) of this parable, except Father Schaefer explained to his parishes that he had mistakenly prepared the incorrect content for his homily. To be human, rooted, grounded. (Humus = Latin for earth, as I am reminded today by Father John Chirovsky, during this Sunday's final visit.)

thirty-eighth visit: Feb 20th 2011 Ukrainian Catholicism (Orthodoxy)

2011-02-20T14:12:00.002-08:00

10:30am sunday
St. John Chrysostom Byzantine Catholic Church
506 Saline St, Pittsburgh PA 15207
greenfield

This church is well worth a gander. And to me, the experience of service, also. Restoration completed in the 1990's renewed quality, but did not touch character, expression of ethnicity. The colors used in the interior iconic paintings are exquisite. Rich. Full. Unapologetically chromatic. I usually need the crackled-surface of old paint in these churches to win me over. Here not so. Fresh is done so well, that I didn't miss antiquity one bit.

Father Schaefer explains that this is the largest iconic screen in the city. I count the number of painted faces that peer down at worshipers: 177. I'd think it's the largest in several cities. Maybe he did say the largest in the US. Could have; I am tired. I do know that he said the Warhol family did not claim this as "their" church despite Andy's baptism here. They did attend for a period of time, however, and Andy is buried in the associated cemetery. I didn't question further; I could tell his mind was on the fact that he needed to start mass.

thirty-seventh visit: Feb 20th 2011 Byzantine Catholicism (Orthodoxy)

2011-02-20T14:03:00.001-08:00

8:30am sunday
St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Church
1720 Jane Street, Pittsburgh PA 15203
south side flats

Please see post: thirty-ninth visit Feb 20 2011 for more

It began with a desire to personally commemorate Andy Warhol's life (d. Feb 22, 1987), by attending his church. A member of the Door of Hope (21st visit) had told me that this was his family's choice place of worship. But I come to question this after arriving, when I learn that this particular congregation had moved to this building in 1958, well after Andy had moved to NYC. Could she have been referring to the building only, and not the people? Commonly, things are complicated that way in this city. Regardless, it still doesn't seem right to me. Some art historians and critics claim that a visit to Andy Warhol's church leaves one to wonder if he was not influenced by its interior: the repetition of portrait-like images of saints in its elaborate icon screen echos the image-repetition in Warhol's screen print portraits of celebrities. But here this notion is not as apparent as I had expected.

No loss, of course. The building is beautiful and I enjoy the quiet time. (Yes: that is a non-electric chandelier pictured above, fire-powered with real candles—the only known to still be in use in a Byzantine Church in the US.) After the service a young worshiper and her mother asks about my dress. Father Schaefer overhears me telling them about gatherings, just chatting about the project in general, mentioning nothing about my quest for the Warhol church. He offers: "Well if you'd like a double header, you could follow me to my next gig. Just five minutes away." He continues, "It's the church where Andy Warhol was baptised." Bingo. Wrong church, right priest. And I am on my way.

thirty-sixth visit: Feb 13th 2011 Mennonite

2011-02-20T13:47:00.001-08:00

10:30am sunday
Pittsburgh Mennonite Church
2018 South Braddock Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15218
swissvale

I had been looking forward to visiting a Mennonite Church. Often, when my mom mentions that she grew up Church of the Brethren (see 1st visit), she follows that statement with: "Are you familiar with that denomination? It's a little similar to Mennonite."

I don't know what exactly I was expecting... but I was expecting something quite different from the Protestant church in which I was raised in. This church is not so different. I think "Old Order" was what my mother was referring to maybe, and this order was not such. Or maybe things just can't be summed up so simply, because congregations (even within the same denomination) move, evolve, at different paces from one another.

I found this church to be one of the warmest congregations. Before my visit, Pastor Bender left a voice message in response to my initial "warning" call. He would not be preaching that day, and wanted me to know, but wanted to extend a welcome non-the-less.

During the celebration and concerns portion of the service, I introduced myself and mentioned the gist of this project. Immediately at worship's end, the first of several remarkable conversations begin. Aaron I think it was? Just wanting to know more about gatherings. Supportive curiosity. Thank you. I also met Candice. Scott stopped to tell me that he knows of a church in Santa Cruz where the relationship of the ritual of attending service and the ritual of making art is compared directly, united, literally, as a part of their mission, it sounds. He is friends with Pastor Dan there. He asked if I knew of Madeleine L'Engle's book that addresses this same topic. (no, but I did order it, and it's next to my computer as I type this, waiting for a rainy day ...titled "Walking on Water") Anticipation. L'Engle's books were absolutely among my favorite in my childhood. And finally, I met Karin (Karen?) who has been a member for 29 years.

And I received sincere, kind emails from members of this church, the week following this visit. Not to be forgotten.

thirty-fifth visit: Feb 6th 2011 United Methodist

2011-02-06T11:21:00.002-08:00

10:30am (super bowl) sunday
Stanton Heights United Methodist Church
4721 Stanton Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15201
stanton heights

"It's that door. You're right. Go ahead and just use the front door, that one, right there." Observers kindly called to me from the side street. I am hesitating, not necessarily because I am not sure which door to use, but because the door is smeared with blood. The bloody area, slightly higher than my face, amounts to not more than 12 by 12 inches, but that's big enough to render the action unmistakably deliberate. Prints reveal that it was applied directly by a human hand. Still bright red. This church is not in a notably heavy-crime neighborhood.

I take pride in my serendipitous tendency to show up at worship places that happen to be celebrating an anniversary of some sort, a holiday or birthday specific to the congregation, so that I'm able to stay for an after-service celebration, allowing for a rich experience and more time for interaction with congregants. But this time, I serendipitously picked the morning that this church's door happened to be smeared with blood.

I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with Passover. The pastor mentions the blood-smeared door more than once during the service, but you know as much as she and I do at this moment. The police arrive just as I leave the service.

The service: The pastor is the organist. And the electric keyboardist. 24 worshipers in the sanctuary. I recall an acquaintance of mine commenting once on her visit to a church. She is Jewish. She said, "To follow Judaism you have to learn a whole other alphabet and language. Whereas, in the Baptist church I visited, most of the hymns consisted of a repetition of five words. There is something to be said about accessibility." At Stanton Heights, there are hymnals, but they are not opened. Hymns' vocals are led and joined-in. Easy.

It is Super Bowl Sunday. The Steelers are mentioned three times during the service, and are thought of, I'm certain, each and every one of the 34 times that the word "victory" is spoken or sung. Not serendipitously. When I first moved to Pittsburgh one and a half years ago, trying to hone in on the inner workings of this city, questioning the artists' role here, I remember seeing this headline on the front of a local publication: "Pittsburgh: Family, Faith and Football." How do I connect to this? ...and how do I connect to this as an artist? And so gatherings climbs into my studio. (Well, it's not exactly as simple as that, but that's part of it.)

I'm not the only one raising this question. The art exhibition "Whatever It Takes: Steelers Fan Collections, Rituals, and Obsessions," (CMU's Miller Gallery) was slated to close on Jan 30th. See, artists and curators don't always have the 2011 Super Bowl date (Feb 6th) ingrained in our minds, let alone on our calenders at all. But spontaneity can make up for it. The show has been extended a week, and closes today with a Super Bowl party/reception, sponsored by Iron City Brewery. "What the The New York Times describes as 'the Steelers at the intersection of Iron City Beer and Art Basel.'" Just like the traffic intersections here in Pittsburgh: five-spoked and unmarked, tripping me up whenever I'm trying to drive somewhere in a hurry—I'm still trying to figure this out. How do artist's connect to their audience here? Sometimes, that's what art is for: figuring things out. I thank those who are open to my endeavors.

Oh, and here's an update on the running count of
worshipers spotted wearing Steelers garb while worshiping:
8 worshipers in blackandyellowblackandyellowblackandyellow
2 worshipers carrying terrible towels
(10 out of the 24 in attendance)
Running Total for the project: 26 (to date)

thirty-fourth visit: Jan 17th 2011 Baptist, MLK Day observance

2011-01-17T12:10:00.002-08:00

12 noon monday
Metropolitan Baptist Church
MLK Day observance
22-24 Sampsonian St, Pittsburgh PA 15212
north side

It felt good to spend time focusing on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s life. Ten speakers or so, with hymns between. Children's performances and solos. Community citizenship awards presented. I didn't know that Martin Luther Sr. was born as Michael Sr. and known a such until he changed his and his son's names to MLK Sr. and Jr., in honor of the Protestant leader, after visiting Germany in 1934. Timing can be everything, or can create curiosity, at least.

I remember learning about Dr. MLK jr for the first time when I was 6 or so, preluded by the Rosa Parks story. I was in kindergarten on a rug of pea-green shag, just before resting-time—when we would all lie still for a minute. I truly think that it was the first bit of history that I really fully grasped, as much as I could at that age. The kind that made me quite sad as we lay still, but left me wanting to learn more. I also remember the day that someone explained to me what the phrase "different race" meant. That was when I was even younger. I remember noticing the difference from that point on. I remember having no concept of it before that moment.

There are some visits during which I have very little interaction with those around me. This is one of them. Maybe that's why I decide to stop into the Sacred Heart of Jesus Store on my way home. (It's only four doors away from where I needed to return a movie.) I am greeted warmly by the two nuns running the spot. "You've never been here? But you are an artist, right? And we have artists in here all day long. You are an artist, aren't you?"
"She always can tell," the other chimes.
"Only, the others are all dressed in black, head to toe. You, in white, think for yourself, I can tell that, too. And that is what artists are really supposed to do." Well, that's what she said.

The shop is a hoarder's visual feast. Most items look second hand. Porcelain Marys and Saints, drawings and prints, candles and holders, books topsy-turvy in floor-to-ceiling shelves. Black and gold rosaries to serve the devout all Sunday long. We talk religion, football and art. I am, indeed, in Pittsburgh.

So I tell her about gatherings, since I am wearing the dress and all.
"Have you been to St. Mary's on Fifth." I know exactly the place, but no.
I ask if that is her church. "Oh, I am a true Roamin' Catholic. I go everywhere. I take Holy Communion every day. God knows I need all the help I can get."

I'll be teaching a painting class at MICA this semester called "Obsessions." It starts tomorrow. Oh, how I wish I could put her in my car, drive her to Baltimore, and introduce her as our guest speaker.