In the long lonely and uncertain winter of 2021 in Hobart, I worked a 2 dimensional sculpture cutting thousands of pieces of black paper to make a bird flying free from an ornate cage. The cage was glued securely to the background, but the shards of paper that formed the feathery bird sat ‘free’ (yes…I know) on the surface of the page, gently shaped but not fixed. When it came time to pack up and leave I had to dismantle it. Ironically, the pieces of black paper that formed the bird are still sitting in a small glass jar.
The image of a blackbird/raven has been a personal totem for a number of years in art, appearing as a bird or as large black wings on my green-plantlike growing body; ravens appear on my actual body in tatoo, and winged creatures are prolifically present in my collections of nests and feathers. Most of my art places birds (and myself) in natural landscapes. Soaring over vast deserts, sitting by streams of water, walking deep in forests, or resting beneath a tree. Creating a cage – albeit one that was open with bird in flight escaping – was a new moment in which my own art told me something of myself I wasn’t acknowledging willingly. Such is the purpose of art. Revelation. Prophetic truth telling.
And now, I have found a song that accompanies and expounds this image perfectly.
Cages or wings, Which do you prefer? Ask the birds Fear or love, baby Don't say the answer Actions speak louder than words
Tick Tick Boom! - the movie-musical telling of the life of composer Jonathan Larson, best known for the musical Rent. I don't usually like movies about musicians, which so often idealise characters or over-interpret the interaction between their flaws and their work in a simplistic way. But this work speaks in the first person with authenticity and sincerity as it draws much of its voice directly from Larson's auto-biographical work of the same name. This particular song, 'Louder than Words' is the finale of the show, and gathers the questions of this complex corybantic mind, the profound questions Larson carries from his life lived so far, and which foreshadow his future work. His questions strike as deep a resonance for me: his words, like the multitude of black paper fragments fall in alignment with my paper-cut image. Why do we live as we do? Do we know how to choose freedom when it is open to us (and let's be honest, sometimes it isn't), and if we do, is it worth the risk? Do we live choosing paths in order to minimise our fears of loss, or fears of others, or to maximise our opportunities to give and to love others? What does 'freedom' mean in relationships when we are called to love? How convinced are we that faithfulness, love and service can only thrive, producing healthy fruit if they are given freely as gifts, or do we seek comfort in locking the door of duty to reassure ourselves that things will not change, and that love is a sure thing. Are we courageous in the way we offer love, honour, service, faithfulness to God, and God to us - in the deep integrity of freedom, of gift. This question of loving and being loved has been a difficult one for me in life. I have had to put this conviction to the test more than once. Offering love freely as gift means the risk (and the reality) of rejection, which I have known with both communities and individuals. It is hard work to stay true to this. To have held out my heart even to those who asked for my love, and then not have it taken up. And yet to not indulge in resentment, in inner protests that I deserved to be loved because I loved richly - that has taken a lot of grit. And I won't pretend there haven't been times when I've lost traction walking this muddy path. Of course, it's not that I don't deserve love. We all do. We are all built for loving and being loved. But no one owes me love. That can only arrive as a sincere and open-hearted gift. Thus, the art of risk-taking love means sometimes we fail, our love goes unheeded, we are abandoned, unwanted. The nature of love - as completely volitional - stretches my theology. Both in receiving the love of God as a gift, offered with the genuine risk that I could refuse by which I know the vulnerability of God, and in my own response to God. What is it that God desires? - my wholehearted love for God is not a duty, a demand, but a gift I offer to God, with all the risk and richness that brings. It is always and ever in faith that I venture in the Love of God. Can height or depth, powers or authorities, creation, the looming future - can anything separate us from the Love of God? It is faith that takes the offer of love - even the love of God - sincerely and says 'Let's find out', and embarks on relationship - working out what loving God, and being loved by God means. One of my pet theological hates are tracts like Two Ways to Live, or The Bridge Illustration, that convey a system of formulaic transactions, that endeavour to offer a certainty that if we hold up our end of the bargain [accepting Jesus as Lord, or confessing our sins, or trusting in the cross for salvation] God has to accept and forgive us. Presented like a mathematical equation, or an engineering project, these explanations rest on a logic of automatic consequences, and bypassing the dynamics of relationship, of love, all fail to engage the one question that is of most importance: where does the love of God meet us, and how do we love God? One of the early common metaphors of christian thought was that of freedom. That responding to the love of God revealed afresh in Jesus was to live in freedom, something especially meaningful to a community that was full of slaves. Which brings us back to the song: Larson lands us this ultimate challenge - 'Don't say the answer; actions speak louder than words'. We love by letting our answers of what we value, what our hearts and whole selves cherish be seen in our actions. This is a salvation summons in the broadest sense for all our relationships; not just to truth-telling but truth-living, the foundation of reconciliation, restoration and healing. This is the beautiful risk: the life that we dare to lead, poured out in giving ourselves freely, beyond compulsions and pressures that can be resented or disowned, this shows us who we really are, the integrity of our values, and the mettle of our soul. * Why do we play with fire? Why do we run our finger through the flame? Why do we leave our hand on the stove, Although we know, we're in for some pain? Oh, why do we refuse to hang a light, When the streets are dangerous? Why does it take an accident, Before the truth gets through to us? Cages or wings, Which do you prefer? Ask the birds Fear or love, baby Don't say the answer Actions speak louder than words Why should we try to be our best When we can just get by and still gain? Why do we nod our heads Although we know The boss is wrong as rain? Why should we blaze a trail When the well worn path Seems safe and So inviting? How, as we travel, can we See the dismay And keep from fighting? Cages or wings, Which do you prefer? Ask the birds Ah Fear or love, baby Don't say the answer Actions speak louder than Louder than, louder than Words What does it take To wake up a generation? How can you make someone Take off and fly? If we don't wake up And shake up the nation We'll eat the dust Of the world wondering why Why do we stay with lovers Who we know, down deep Just aren't right? Why would we rather Put ourselves through hell Than sleep alone at night? Why do we follow leaders who never lead? Why does it take catastrophe to start a revolution If we're so free? Tell me why Someone tell me why So many people bleed Cages or wings, Which do you prefer? Ask the birds Ah Fear or love, baby Don't say the answer Actions speak louder than Louder than, Louder than, Louder than, Louder than
Elizabeth Waldron Anstice
multivocality 