Trumpeting Frog

Nina Sinca is back at our drop in center for the summer. She has one more year of art school left. This piece is trying to get at the power and nature of information.

'Nina in her studio'

Capcana Luminii 'Light Trap' Photography show 2008

Robin Fowler inspired me with her photos last year and gave me the idea that more people need to see her work. We found public space at the Cultural Centers Gallery and we invited our friend Dan Burlacu a local high school art teacher to present photos with us.

Take a look at Robins Work in our show we titled 'Light Trap'

Here are my (Joel's) contribution to 'Light Trap'.



The show opened with a short introduction by the new Art Guild director who is speaking in the picture. Then an art critic from the Modern Art Museum of Galati presented at length the exhibit as a whole and then took each artist in turn and discussed each.



The museum director spoke of a delight that the photos represented to him a return to nature and sensitive use and limitation of color and composition. I was proud to present Robin to the small crew gathered as a first time appearance in an official way in the art world in Galati. I am glad she was able to hear from the museum critic that her work is great.

Here is the 'prayer rug' we have made while praying for the other Word Made Flesh fields who all sent clothes which have intersected with their communities among the poor in some way. It has taken two years to finish. All the individual pieces of cloth are held together by a single unbroken string made for tying fishing nets. It remains in the middle of the chapel as a reminder to us of the presence of Christ and of His presence in the poor among us around the world. We are only a small part of all that Christ is pulling together.

Here is a sketchbook page I did while watching the kids making art. Below is a blog entry of Chris Heuertz the Word Made Flesh International director... he has a new book out called, Simple Spirituality: Learning to See God in a Broken World

Rabia of Basra

Last month Liz was carrying around this pretty red book. At some point, her and Phileena popped that thing open and the next thing I knew, I was the proud co-owner of a copy of Love Poems From God: Twelve Voices from the East and the West.

Since then Phileena had been savoring the pages and referencing the poems. On more than one occasion Phileena has shared verses from Rabia of Basra or Rabi’a al-Adawiyya al-Qaysiyy.

Rabia’s tale is one of the most heart-breaking and compelling stories I’ve heard in a long, long time.

Rabia lived during the 8^th century in ancient Iraq. She was the youngest of 4 daughters in a very poor, but respectable family. As a young girl her father died, and eventually Rabia was not only separated from her parents but her sisters as well.

She was left wandering and vulnerable.

Known to possess captivating beauty, some biographers tell that Rabia was captured and sold at a considerably high price as a slave to one of the most famous brothels of her day. There she was imprisoned until she was nearly 50 years old.

Reflecting on the torment of her sexual slavery she wrote,

“What a place for trials and transformation did my Lover put me, but never once did He look upon me as if I were impure. Dear sisters, all we do in this world, whatever happens, is bringing us closer to God.”

Her poems are simple, her prayers moving, her life recognized as a saint in the Sufi tradition. Rabia spent her life suffering as a contemplative mystic, faithful to her faith through the exploitation of her sexuality.In the introduction to her section of poems in the book, the translator Daniel Ladinsky concludes with this quote from her writings,

“Show me where it hurts, God said, and every cell in my body burst into tears before His tender eyes. He has repaid me though for all my suffering in a way I never wanted: The sun is now in homage to my face, because it knows I have seen God. But that was not His payment. The soul cannot describe His gift. I just spoke about the sun like that because I like beautiful words, and because it’s true: Creation is in homage to use.”

'three forest sprouts'

Beauty is Useless

Beauty is as useless as

flowers on the kitchen table

as kindness and weeding a garden

wine after dinner, hugs and dressing up for church

Beauty is as useless as

the intricately carved porches in the Romanian countryside

as making a home, giving a child a toy, and singing four part harmony

a sunset, silence, old people, and monks

Beauty is as useless as

wonder and standing in awe of spring

as mourning a miscarried child and thinking on history

and looking into the eyes of one sentenced to death

Beauty is as useless as

quiet country life, as being at home, or writing poetry

as flowers for the dead, hermits, and desert wanderers

gratitude, sharing, contentment, and making peace with your spouse

Beauty is as worthless as

a bird songs, crickets in the evening, and croaking frogs

as laughter, the wind off the ocean, or saying 'I love you'

and putting your bare feet in the creek

Beauty is as useless as

the washing of Jesus' feet with costly perfume

salt, sugar in your tea, as grieving or dancing

giving time to a street kid or cleaning a child's head of lice

Beauty is as useless as

wild flowers which wither immediately after picking them

as making your bed, visiting prisoners, time waiting for the bus

caring for the severely handicapped

Beauty is as useless as

giving gifts which cannot be reciprocated or remembering the dead

caring for an aging parent, as celebration

thanksgiving, birthday parties or your favorite old shirt

Beauty is as useless as

life at the bottom of the ocean and invisible molecular movement

as astronomy, theoretical mathematics, or dressing up for a date

as a fruit tree with forbidden fruit, contemplation, or fasting

Beauty is as useless as

a necklace handed down from grandmother to granddaughter

as purity of heart, humility, taking a shower, putting on deodorant

holding hands while walking or the moments before you fall asleep

Beauty is as worthless

as a life which is only a breath

"He has made everything beautiful in its time" Ecclesiastes 3:11

Beauty is as useless

as the beloved is overcome

with the opened gift in her hands

(This watercolor and the meditation below were done during our communities recent retreat in the mountains in Romania. )

'Brokenness: Maphibosheth at King David's Table'

by joel klepac

This is one of 9 paintings based on the lifestyle celebrations and input from the community in Romania over the past year. We hope to have them up on the chapel walls in the next few weeks. I am still thinking about how they might be presented online.

(this photo was taken by by George D. who writes on Din si Despre Galati of a man living on the streets)

(the photo reminded me of this old poem I wrote after seeing a man like this rocking himself in the train station waiting for something)

He rocks and sways
Sucks and blows white milky smoke
Cradled in a crux of concrete
Comforted by a flame in his fingers

We rock and sway
At each blow we stretch by yellow fields
Cradled in steel grooves
And fight sleep with black potions

He closes his eyes
For his mother to arise
Or a friend or a phantom
To make good the promise

Open they wrinkle and curl
They worry and flood in the night
Broken eyes see golden fields under blue
But open to wipe away the promise

So he rocks and sways
Sucks and blows white milky smoke
Religiously making the sign of the promise
Of yellow, blue, of cradling and being cradled