If you came here to learn what Art Walk Encounters are, or what an Art Walk is period, I assume you would expect to hear it from a person who actually attended one. Unfortunately, I have not yet had the opportunity to witness what fellowship such a union of artists, vendors, and communities can facilitate. The last Art Walk that the Jonahre Art Foundation assisted was held last Easter, months before I entered the narrative. So why then have I been entrusted to share these stories starting with my own?
The premise of an Art Walk Encounter, as we have so named it, is that AWE-inspiring Truth can be encountered in our mundane, diverse realities anywhere: at a bar; at the office; even at a luxury beauty counter, which is where my experience is set.
“On this particular Friday, late last summer, there was no blunting the afternoon lull...”
On this particular Friday, late last summer, there was no blunting the afternoon lull-at least at my end of the department. I was absentmindedly polishing white glass jars of cream and elixirs, wondering how much longer I could stand in my heels, when a coworker beckoned me for an extra hand at her counter. Replacing the last vial back onto the display, I clicked across the black and white tiles of this store that has been my stomping ground for almost two years.
Around the corner, the woman who greeted me in the Dior chair was poised like any other customer I would see on a day to day basis. Shiny blond hair lay smoothed over an immaculate two piece outfit, completed by modest heels and a designer handbag. She looked like a diplomat’s wife with kind blue eyes, which was why the generous smile and subtle lilt did not surprise me.
Christine Danforth, CEO of Jonahre, had come in for a foundation color match on a whim after her hair appointment. From that small, simple errand ensued what would become an hour long dialogue about culture, beauty and art in contemporary Christianity.
“The art of makeup became a medium for deeper connection”
In that obscured, glittering slice of capitalism, the powders and colors became more than a source of profit or mere indulgence. The art of makeup became a medium for deeper connection between ourselves and the creator of beauty Himself.
“At my core I’m an artist and storyteller,” I explained when Christine asked me what brought me to a cosmetics after studying English and Journalism at a Christian college. “For me, beauty is the way I’ve always known of God, myself and others. But during college, I internalized this belief that to be of use to God, I had to be a traditional teacher or Christian publisher-or be martyred as an international correspondent.” Swirling my fingertips into the final color, I made three swipes along her jaw.
“That is understandable,” Christine empathized, canting her jaw for my scrutiny. “The contemporary church has inherited a fear of imagination because imagination, and its artistic expression, can be dangerous. But we’ve thrown the baby out with the bath water. That is why when you think of the Christian art genre today, a lot of times you associate it with an cliche, simplistic quality.”
Removing the swatches, I began to massage in a silky gel creme to prep the canvas of her skin. I remember being cognizant of the intimacy of human touch, so integral in the art of cosmetics, as my hands learned the face of this lovely stranger turned sister.
“…great art makes us nostalgic for God...it arouses this universal longing for redemption.”
“I’m reading a book with the most fantastic chapter on art in the Christian faith,” I said, picking up my brush. “The author asserts that great art makes us nostalgic for God, and whether we are people of faith or not, it arouses this universal longing for redemption.”
I began to buff the chosen color until it was seamless with her skin. “I see that in makeup too. We reimagine ourselves as healed, whole beings. Rested eyes, stress-free skin, nourished bodies. Expressing our stories, identities and cultural ties through symbolic colors and shapes.” Was I talking too fast? I couldn’t help myself by this point. “It’s easy to become addicted to it, but even when you wipe it off, it doesn’t wipe off the source of that inspiration or the story. But what makes us truly beautiful is the Imago Dei expressed in us all.” Christine studied me thoughtfully beneath the final strokes of my brush.
“I work for a Christian art foundation,” she said when I was done. “We emphasize the medium of the art as much as we do the message. Our mission is to foster a renaissance of excellent, vibrant art that does justice to the beauty of our Truth.” She handed me her card. “We gave ourselves the name Jonahre, like Jonah from the Bible, which is such an artistic genre in it of itself. Our motto is bringing Truth to reality.”
I don’t remember exactly what I said to that, but I remember looking down and fingering the sharp edges of the stiff gold card, absorbing the aftershocks of so much synchronicity-a number of seemingly random events happening simultaneously, but together, full of wondrous meaning. This woman could not have known who I was before she sat down. She could not have known what beauty meant to my faith, or how significant the story of Jonah had been to me in the past several weeks. She couldn’t have anticipated how reality and Truth was a concept that helped me reconcile the multiple chapters of my life overseas.
We made plans to meet for coffee the week after as I wrapped her packages in white tissue paper. At a Starbucks a few weeks later, Christine would tell me she and the Jonahre team had been praying for someone with my heart and my background to create a blog to share their stories. An offer I would pray over and later accept. But there in the present, after she had given me a hug and walked out of the store, I stood quiet and still at the counter for a long moment.
“The same path, the same place, the same people, the same me, but through eyes renewed to see it...”
I cleaned my brushes, replaced the jars and tubes, and then clicked back to my counter. The same path, the same place, the same people, the same me, but through eyes renewed to see it all with a fresh wonder and meaning I couldn’t make out before.
AWE editor | Karis Lee
I have only heard stories of the Art Walks, only heard how it moved people like me to pause in these stores, restaurants, and coffeeshops, when confronted by exquisite art in the midst of Easter errands and stressful consumerism during Christmas. But I understand what an Art Walk Encounter is through the essence of it in my own experience. A moment where the veil between heaven and earth is creased enough to see the iridescent shape of Truth in what often seems like our godforsaken, mundane, lonely lives. There is more.