Artivism
Art + Activism
“The artivist (artist + activist) uses her artistic talents to fight and struggle against injustice and oppression—by any medium necessary. The artivist merges commitment to freedom and justice with the pen, the lens, the brush, the voice, the body, and the imagination. The artivist knows that to make an observation is to have an obligation.”
- From It’s Bigger Than Hip Hop by M. K. Asante
When we are dismayed by injustice or troubled by our lament, how do we respond? Art has long been a way for many to reflect, pray, shout, and act out. Watch this video to learn how to fold a peace crane.
When you’re finished, drop off your peace crane at the church by September 19 and they will be hung up in the sanctuary.
Lament
Read the poem “The Captured Goddess” as a reflection on how Wisdom is described in Proverbs.
Write or draw your interpretation or reaction on the butcher paper on the table.
“The Captured Goddess”
By Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
Over the housetops,
Above the rotating chimney-pots,
I have seen a shiver of amethyst,
And blue and cinnamon have flickered
A moment,
At the far end of a dusty street.
Through sheeted rain
Has come a lustre of crimson,
And I have watched moonbeams
Hushed by a film of palest green.
It was her wings,
Goddess!
Who stepped over the clouds,
And laid her rainbow feathers
Aslant on the currents of the air.
I followed her for long,
With gazing eyes and stumbling feet.
I cared not where she led me,
My eyes were full of colours:
Saffrons, rubies, the yellows of beryls,
And the indigo-blue of quartz;
Flights of rose, layers of chrysoprase,
Points of orange, spirals of vermilion,
The spotted gold of tiger-lily petals,
The loud pink of bursting hydrangeas.
I followed,
And watched for the flashing of her wings.
In the city I found her,
The narrow-streeted city.
In the market-place I came upon her,
Bound and trembling.
Her fluted wings were fastened to her sides with cords,
She was naked and cold,
For that day the wind blew
Without sunshine.
Men chaffered for her,
They bargained in silver and gold,
In copper, in wheat,
And called their bids across the market-place.
The Goddess wept.
Hiding my face I fled,
And the grey wind hissed behind me,
Along the narrow streets.
Proverbs 1:20-25, 28-30 (New Revised Standard
Version)
Wisdom cries out in the street;
in the squares she raises her voice.
At the busiest corner she cries out;
at the entrance of the city gates she speaks:
“How long, O simple ones, will you love being simple?
How long will scoffers delight in their scoffing and fools hate knowledge?
Give heed to my reproof;
I will pour out my thoughts to you;
I will make my words known to you.
Because I have called and you refused,
have stretched out my hand and no one heeded,
and because you have ignored all my counsel
and would have none of my reproof,
Then they will call upon me, but I will not answer;
they will seek me diligently, but
will not find me.
Because they hated knowledge
and did not choose the fear of
the Lord,
would have none of my counsel,
and despised all my reproof