street art

I've been on a bit of a street art kick of late, wishing deep down that I had created the art movement which is now ironically entering in to the mainstream creative world. Street artists could be crudely identified as graffiti artists who have something to say, who's wall art communicates more than scribbles on the side of a train or metro car.

I spent a chunk of my adolescent years in Orange County, California where at that point graffiti was only an eye sore, sprayed haphazardly over freeway overpasses. Then I met Connor, a cool 12 year old who thought graffiti was pretty awesome and who liked to write in the style. Also, in Amsterdam there's a guy who goes by the name of Laser 3.14 and he writes statements and questions on buildings or temporary structures which are under construction. His prose has a prophetic lyrical quality to it. Nearly every day I cycle by one of his "paintings". A couple years ago I visited London and discovered "Banksy", a street art "painter" who has a narrative quality to his work. I am fascinated by the idea of an artist choosing to be a "voice" for one particular city. Amsterdam has Laser 3.14, London has Banksy (though he now makes art all over the world), Paris has Space Invader, and on and on.

Setting the question of illegal vandalizing of buildings aside, the art these men and perhaps women produce is truly interesting and their way of choosing surfaces in order to purposefully decrease the lifespan of their art. Laser 3.14's "art" is often gone after a few months when the construction material is removed. Banksy recently created a documentary on street art, called "Exit Through the Gift Shop." It's a well made film, inviting the viewer behind the curtain to glimpse a bit of the mysterious life of the street artist. I also recently bought this book, "Concrete Messages" for my parents who went to Israel for a few weeks and were struck by the constant presence of the large wall which divides the Palestinian neighborhoods from those of the Israeli people. The book has beautiful photographs of art created by street artists from around the world to give a voice to the Palestinian people.



In close, my brother and his wife Tanya recently discovered a "Space Invader" (the artist is based in Paris I believe) a couple blocks from my house when they visited last. How cool is that? Here's proof (my brother with the invader). So, as you walk or drive around your cities and suburbs keep your eyes open, you never know when you'll see a glimpse of this controversial art medium.

the day after

Babysitting is super productive I'm learning tonight. At least when the baby in question is less than 3 months old and sleeps like a stud. I'm in Den Haag watching Emerson, son of my dear friends Adrienne and Nic Grimes. They're out on a rare date. I'm getting so much done, I've even whittled down my inbox to 4995 unread emails! Yes, I NEVER delete emails. I'm trying to turn a new leaf since I'm tired of people freaking out when they look at my desktop.

Despite my productive stint, I'm actually quite exhausted but I don't think it's from a long day or an hour train trip or not sleeping enough, rather from turkey that I'm sure is still sitting in my stomach. Gobbling. I'm used to abnormally large things, I'm from the land that invented abnormally large things, yet this truly was the largest turkey I've ever seen. There was a collective gasp when Amanda and John unveiled the beast at our Thanksgiving dinner last night. This picture does not even begin to describe how much meat there was on that big boy. Let's just say that the 24 of us ate less than 1/4 of it.

It was a great Thanksgiving. I spend the day hopping between the Nashes and Pickerills, cooking delicious things, decorating, baking nana's roll recipe, and lots of skyping with dear friends and family. I enjoyed meeting new people during the dinner and just sitting around and chilling. In true T-day tradition Connor even rented a film for us and we had a sleepover after the cleaning up was done. We have, for the most part, switched to Dutch holidays, but this is the one American holiday that we keep alive and well. Julia and I threaten every year to go buy little roasted chickens but between Amanda and Connor we are kept to the straight and narrow. Toward the end of the night I escaped to the kid's room and watched a bit of Monsters Inc. with them, trying to let the effects of the tryptophan wane enough to help clean up.

Emerson is starting to stir a bit so I will close. If you come from the Thanksgiving celebrating tradition, I hope it was a wonderful holiday for you, with lots of family and good friends nearby.

funny funnies

The days and hours go too fast. I feel these days like my life is whizzing by me and I'm trying desperately to stop and smell the roses. There are small things in life that give me delight and they often involve children, ritual, food, and memories. I received all 4 this afternoon.

I went over to Amanda's to bake pies with my grandma's special pie recipe. I think it's from her, I can't remember. But the secret ingredient is vinegar (I can't keep secrets). We baked and talked and I cried and we talked and Grayson played. Halfway through Gloria, Connor, and Lucas arrive with their parents, hungry for an after school snack. So, we make funny funnies! We hardly ever had dessert in my family, but when we did it was usually pie. And when you make a pie there are always extra dough bits left. And when you use my grandma's crust recipe it's too good to not use every bit! Thus, funny funnies came in to being! We drank tea and ate funny funnies and played Yatzee Jr. and reminisced and laughed. A good day.

Recipe for "funny funnies":

• Take all the extra crust bits and mash them in one ball. Roll it out.
• Sprinkle on sugar and cinnamon generously then roll it up into a log.
• Cut little slices along the top of the log about 2 inches apart (don't cut all the way to the table).
• Curve it a bit into a wreath shape and then shove in the oven on a pan next to your baking pie.

These will get done before your pie does ... so you have something to snack on as you wait!

Remembering stories

Lately in an attempt to remember my roots, the truth of what God has done in my life, I've been re-listening to the testimony of John Wimber (the founder of the Vineyard movement). It's entitled, "I'm a fool for Christ, who's fool are you?" I'm thoroughly enjoying it, both laughing and sniffing back tears. I think more than his story or the way he articulates simple Biblical truth, or his laid back hilarious manner ... is the intimacy with which he talks about God, it almost sounds too personal, too dichtbij, but it's having quiet the effect on me. I love all his little quips, for example... "one prayer that God always answers, is 'God, what's wrong with me?' " Or, how he had been praying for healing for over a year and finally a woman is healed, and he walks out of her home, looks up at the sky and says, " Yeah God... we got one!" His journey from being raised in a thoroughly un-churched family (for generations) to a personal relationship with Jesus, to falling in love with the church, to encountering the Holy Spirit and starting a new movement of churches is such a gift to us.

I met John just a few times in my life. He died when I was about 18 years old and I still have strong memories of him sitting on a bar chair each Sunday morning and praying simply, "Come Holy Spirit." My brother, sister, and I would at that point put away our coloring books which kept us occupied during the message and sit up to watch the Holy Spirit come. Some people encountered Him in a quiet way, others with tears, others with shaking or laughing, it didn't really matter how He came but that He was thick in the place. And the way John lead the time was without hype or extra craziness, just simple and confident.

We grew up excited to go to church, expectant to see what God would do. Still to this day when it's time to pray for people at the end of a Sunday service, I get this little twist of excitement in my stomach, expectant to see God touch people. Listening to John's testimony brings back my childhood memories, it renews again my love of the greater Church and makes me so thankful that Jesus didn't just promise to return one day in the future but that He left His Holy Spirit with us for the now.

the crew: ages 2 till 53!


pub quiz time! (hannah sure made it hard!). I still can't believe the Sahara desert is only 20% desert.


hannah, trav, daniël, mark, and jaap apparently up to no good...


I'm back from a lovely weekend away with some of my favorite people. For our church retreat. We crammed into an old building in Driebergen, once used as a stable for horses. Yes, high class digs. There were large bunk rooms for the men and women... and kids. It was cold but we had candles lit nearly 24/7 and the heat turned up. The kids ran wild all weekend (I was glad I did't have to wake them and take them to school come Monday morning). We explored some nice trails in the woods around the area, played some mad games of Phase10 and Werewolf (kind of like Mafia), completed a 1000 piece puzzle, who's the geek who brought that? :). During the day we had workshops on meditative and imaginative prayer and how to study the Bible, we worshiped and best of all the Holy Spirit really met us and did some great things. It was a weekend that I will not forget quickly. We left Sunday afternoon, some in their cars, other walking to the bus and train, all saying, let's do this again soon! Here are some of my favorite pictures from the weekend, the top one includes not everyone, some had already left by Sunday afternoon.