Just popping in to update things. I'm in the middle of five different final projects, all of which are maddeningly prolonging themselves. I've had to keep reminding myself that they don't need to be perfect, just finished. I hate having to do a project in a sloppy way, but it's better to get an average grade than to get a failing grade for not finishing by deadline. Additionally, these aren't really the classes I'm passionate about anyway, so I'm not as worried about it - in theory. When I actually work on this stuff, I want it to turn out well.

We went to Saint Mary's Basilica for my Observational Drawing class on Friday afternoon. It was pouring out, so we all drove over and shambled inside, all of our drawing boards and papers shrouded in big plastic bags and dripping wet. The Basilica was awesome - I mean that in the original sense of the word - and I spent the first hour there just walking around, staring at the walls and ceilings with my mouth gaping open. The statuary, the stained-glass windows, the pillars and filigree and decoration...it was all very impressive. They were also having a show of icons around the altar, so I got to see some Eastern Orthodox artwork, as well. The Basilica is touted as "America's first basilica," built from 1908 to 1914.

Previously, I had looked at the practice of building cathedrals with an amount of skepticism: "If the Church had all this money to create something so elaborate, why not spend that money on providing for the poor, or other such things? Why the extravagance?" Of course, the Church has always done that anyway, and there is a Biblical tradition of building ornate structures devoted to the Lord. Granted, the first century Church isn't really recorded as having done such things, but the social climate wouldn't have allowed for it, since they were a persecuted minority. Yet I remember discussing this with friend Dan, and he had pointed out that, in an age when people generally couldn't read and didn't regularly see wonders on television or in print, entering such a sanctuary could be deeply moving, giving a greater impression of the glory and beauty of God than the spoken word was capable of. I specifically recall historical accounts of dark ages kings being brought into such buildings and being moved by their grandeur. Skeptical historians might dismiss this as "the official version," and perhaps there's some truth to that, but I don't think I'll be as quick to dismiss the possibility that they might have experienced something more transcendent than mere political incentive. For example, history seems to indicate that the early Russian lords took their faith very seriously; two sons of the first czar allowed themselves to be martyred by their ambitious stepbrothers because they believed so fervently that they should turn the other cheek.

The artistry and craftsmanship evident in the Basilica was inspiring. The thought that it was all done in praise of God was moving. In my mind, it's so much of what art should be - an act of worship, a reflection of The Artist, a requiting of the love that God gives us freely, as freely as He's given everything to us.