A Creative Walkabout with Sarah Hall by Michael Winters

by Jordan Lienhoop

Sarah Hall en route to create a tree rubbing.

For painter and puppet-maker Sarah Hall, going to the woods every day is all the inspiration she needs to generate new ideas and thoughts. Whether having a walkabout or watching a cicada hatch, the outdoors sparks shapes and stories inside her that become large tree rubbings and plein air painting puppets, inspiring kids (and adults!) to be curious explorers of their communities as well.

See more of Sarah’s work on Instagram at @hiyo_post and follow Gorp at @hiyogorp.

“Gorp” (2019) by Sarah Hall.

“Holiday Series” (2019), tree rubbing by Sarah Hall. Acrylic on canvas.

“Holiday Series” (2019), tree rubbing by Sarah Hall. Acrylic on canvas.

Tree rubbing by Sarah Hall. Acrylic on canvas.

HIYO postcards from Gorp (2020) by Sarah Hall

This post is part of a series featuring artists involved in our ministry and community in Louisville, Kentucky.

Black Sheep Artist by Michael Winters

“Black Sheep” (2020) by Sammi Lawson

“Black Sheep” (2020) by Sammi Lawson

by Michael Winters

The above image stuck with me this week. Sammi, who regularly participates in arts feedback group, made it and showed it to me. Do you ever feel like a black sheep?

Artists often do. Artists often skirt the edges of groups, not totally jumping on anyone band’s wagon. Makoto Fujimura calls this border-stalking:

“Artists are instinctively uncomfortable in homogenous groups and in ‘border-stalking’ we have a role that both addresses the reality of fragmentation and offers a fitting means to help people from all our many and divided cultural tribes learn to appreciate the margins, lower barriers to understanding and communication, and start to defuse the culture wars. Artists on the margins of various groups can be deputized (not conscripted) to represent tribal identities while still being messengers of hope and reconciliation to a divided culture.” - Makoto Fujimura in Culture Care, p. 58

This border-stalking is an important and powerful role. Our divided country and world needs artists who are able to act as peacemakers and justice-seekers. I want to quickly suggest two additional ways among many others that artists can do this.

  1. Reveal commonly held values.

    The recent fights over monuments have revealed that many of our public monuments don’t fairly represent the values of the surrounding populations. I believe it’s now clear that many monuments around the country should come down. It’s not as clear what should replace them. What can we, as Louisvillians, or Americans, collectively value and esteem? What is the true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent (Philippians 4:8) that we can collectively affirm? This is serious work when on a grand public scale, but the same issues are at play when it comes to what is put on the walls of our local coffee shops and galleries.

  2. Imagine a better world.

    Artists themselves must be able to imagine a better world, act accordingly, and invite others into that world. We pray as Jesus taught us to pray: “May your kingdom come. May your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” We’re constantly confronted with what’s wrong in the world. The problems facing humans today are legion. It’s tempting to spend all our energy on staring down the problems at hand and reading others’ comments on these problems. Grounded in reality, we must reserve energy to imagine the world that could be, act accordingly, and invite others into that vision.

If we’re not careful, being an artist-peacemaker can be a lonely role, and we can find ourselves feeling like we don’t fit in anywhere. In other words, we can feel like a black sheep.

What I especially like about Sammi’s drawing though, is this: It’s okay to be a black sheep if you are Jesus’ black sheep. Jesus knows all about your struggles. He was a border-stalker, too. He was a prophet unaccepted in His own hometown. He was a Jew in a Roman-occupied territory. He was a brilliant teacher, but clearly did not fit in with the other teachers. Multiple times He started to have crowds rally, but they wanted signs and wonders and free food more than God’s kingdom revolution. He had the disciples, but they constantly misunderstood Him. Jesus wasn’t a sheep trying to fit into a group though. He’s the Good Shepherd over all humanity and He can take care of you. Psalm 23 is not only fitting for funerals; it’s a fitting Psalm to meditate on in the present moment:

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
     He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
     He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
    for his name's sake.

 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
    I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me.

 You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    forever.

May God comfort you, lead you, and empower you to imagine His Kingdom.

Never / Too Late for a Renaissance? by Michael Winters

by Michael Winters

Yesterday I sent out notification letters for our recent exhibit call for entries, Made in the Belly of the Whale. It’s fun to send out the acceptance letters, but sending out rejection letters is the worst. A juried process is inevitably a subjective process. A juror is drawn to certain artworks and not others for a variety of reasons. I respect juror Annie Lee-Zimerle’s choices and stand by them, but there’s a piece not selected I wish more people could see.

The two pages of McKenzie Rich’s sketchbook collage Renaissance bounce back and forth, questioning and answering one another.

The text included could be read, “Never…Too late for a renaissance?”

Or it could be read, “Too late for a renaissance? NEVER.”

The imagery of the collage shows what appear to be two women of color pulled from fashion magazines and a series of brown blocks and brown paint swatches that could represent a gradient of skin tones.

“Renaissance” (2020) by McKenzie Rich. Collage in sketchbook.

“Renaissance” (2020) by McKenzie Rich. Collage in sketchbook.

Renaissance, in general, is about revival, or renewed interest in something. For example, in the specific time period we refer to as “the Renaissance,” 14-16th century Western Europe experienced a revival of interest in Ancient Greek and Roman thought and culture.

So, in McKenzie’s collage, the imagery and text together seem to be asking if we can believe in revival. Specifically, can we believe in revival for people of all skin tones?

After sitting with this piece for a bit, I prefer the second way of reading the text: “Too late for a renaissance? NEVER.”


In Sojourn Midtown’s new sermon series, The Gospel, Race, and Justice, the pastors proclaim the good news about Jesus that revives people of all ethnicities and empowers them to live for justice for all people. Listen to the first sermon in the series here.

Jonathan Anderson on Andy Warhol: Revelation by Michael Winters

by Michael Winters

Sojourn Arts interns at the exhibit . “Eggs,” 1982. Andy Warhol.

Sojourn Arts interns at the exhibit . “Eggs,” 1982. Andy Warhol.

The Speed Museum is now exhibiting Andy Warhol: Revelation, “the first exhibition to comprehensively examine the Pop artist’s complex Catholic faith in relation to his artistic production.”

When the exhibit was shown previously at The Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh, artist and art critic Jonathan Anderson gave a talk, sponsored by the Beatrice Institute, titled “Religion in the Age of Mass Media: Andy Warhol’s Catholicism”. This talk gives a lot of additional background information and insight into the exhibit.

The Sojourn Arts team watched this video before we went and it really helped us appreciate the experience, so we recommend checking out both this video and the in-real-life exhibit.

In addition to giving this insightful talk, Jonathan Anderson is an artist. Back in 2008 or so, we exhibited paintings from his series Groundings.

His writings have also shaped the ways in which we think about our work as Sojourn Arts, especially the book Modern Art and the Life of a Culture: The Religious Impulses of Modernism, which he co-authored with William Dyrness. He’s a go-to figure to follow for the intersection of contemporary art and faith. His instagram account leads to fascinating contemporary art you might not come across elsewhere.

Andy Goldsworthy: Rediscovering a Spirit of Freedom by Michael Winters

by Jason Leith

Sycamore patch, Glasgow, Lanarkshire, 31 October 1986. Andy Goldsworthy.

For much of my life I have wrestled with two sides of myself. One side loves to play and wonder and the other is stiff and suffocated by logic. This second part of me is not the truest part. I am thankful I have discovered ways to leave this part behind. One way is when I embrace the play and wonder inspired by other artists. At twenty years old, as I was still learning to embrace my liberated side, I am thankful someone introduced me to Andy Goldsworthy. 

Creating much of his artwork in surrounding nature of his hometown village of Penpoint Scotland, Goldsworthy’s process is wonderfully unfamiliar. Hands empty of tools of any kind, he steps out into nature and begins gathering elements of the created world to make site specific sculptures. Many of the works are planned in the moment and he uses no glue, no hammer, no machinery. 

I smile remembering how he arranged icicles to look as if they are weaving in and out of the trunk of a winter aspen. I find delight in the seamless color gradient of fall leaves he arranged on the ground like a Buddhist mandala. My heart jumps remembering the way he collected hundreds of reeds from a damp hillside and mended them into a tapestry suspended from a lone tree. 

One of his works takes hours, sometimes days, and the process is as important as the final vision. Every failure in the form of collapsing rock or melting ice is a way Goldsworthy finds reconnection with nature and with himself. Each collapse requires a moment for few deep breaths, but it provides a lesson about limits, physicality, and our relationship with creation. As we push and play in nature, it can teach us. When a sculpture is finished, he photographs the result and releases it to the mercy of time and the elements. Soon enough, every sculpture crumbles, melts, or blows away.

At my first introduction to Goldsworthy, I was simultaneously puzzled, frustrated, and delighted. How can you move into a project without a plan ahead of you? How could he let his work just crumble away like that? It must be saved! But slowly, I acclimated to realize the joy and freedom in his process. 

Sycamore leaves stitched together with stalkshung from a tree, Glasgow, Lanarkshire, 1 November 1986. Andy Goldsworthy.

Leaning into the Wind, a Magnolia Pictures release. © Thomas Riedelsheime, all rights reserved. Courtesy of Magnolia Pictures.

I distinctly remember the intersection of Goldsworthy’s work and rediscovering the lighthearted side of my relationship with the Lord. My spiritual life was defined by duty, obedience, and mission. These things are not bad, however, I had lost sight of the truth that wherever the Spirit of God lives, “there is freedom” (2 Cor. 3:16). I had forgotten how the Lord wants to enjoy, wonder, and just be with his kids—no agenda. One of the gifts he wants us to enjoy is the beauty and infinite discovery found in the created world.

The first time I tried to channel Andy Goldsworthy out in a southern California trail, my unhindered child-like spirit came leaping back. All the brooding weight of duty was lifted as I arranged geometric rocks into a puzzle and gathered dried flowers to make my sculpture. Looking back, I realize in moments like those, my friendship with the Lord was growing. 

Goldsworthy’s work and process shows me how to leave weight and stiffness at the door when approaching my relationship with God. I do not have to have a grand plan for the future. There is no need to dwell on the past. I can just breathe in the moment. When things collapse, it’s okay. I take it as learning. 

Goldsworthy believes that our connection to nature is deeply linked to our connection with ourselves. If we are disconnected from nature, he believes our sense of self will suffer. There is no doubt that growing up, I had lost connection with vital parts of who God made me to be. But Goldsworthy’s encouragement to simply step out into nature and make something breathed life into me, reminding me of the lightness of God and how I have a standing invitation to reconnect with him whenever I choose. No weight, just wonder.


Jason Leith Headshot.png

Jason Leith is the Pastor of Visual Arts at Saddleback Church in Orange County, California. His work focuses on socially engagement through portraiture. His Sacred Streets project featured found object portraits of the homeless on Skid Row, Los Angeles. He graduated from Biola University with my BFA and is currently receiving his Masters in Global Leadership at Fuller Seminary with an emphasis in Art & Theology. See more of his work at www.sacredstreets.org/ and follow him on Instagram at @JasonLeithArt.

This post is part of an ongoing series where we ask artists and arts professionals to share a piece of artwork that has significantly impacted their formation as a Christian.