God

The Spiritual Mechanics of Labor and Rest

(And the Kingdom of God?)

When drawing becomes a prayer, the image becomes a repository for the questions and thoughts offered to God, which then settle on the page. At first like a fine dust. Then into ridges and furrows. Then into fields and gardens.

I thought I had some language to accompany these developing drawings, but they are dissolving into new perspectives without words.

*Spirit and Truth, Labor and Rest*, 18″ x 12″, graphite on paper

An Interview With Elizabeth Duffy

detail of Go On, John the Baptist, oil on panel, 2008

Elizabeth Duffy has been posting parts of an interview she began with me last spring and summer. To date, this interview consistutes the clearest and really, only articulation of the beliefs and values behind my work. I hope that you will take the time to read it. The interview will ultimately be posted in it entirety on this site, but for now, here is part 1, part ll, part lll, and the final bit part lV. Please take the time to read some of Elizabeth’s writing as well. She is authentic, humorous, and insightful. Her wit and self-effacing style reveal a woman on a significant journey with valuable things to say.

From the Dust I Came

CRY THE BLOOD

I began as dust, heavy with the sweat of God’s fingers as He formed my flesh; a heap of particles still ringing from the sound of His voice. His breathe came as a holy wind, compelling me to breath, myself.

“i am erth.”

In my senior year of high school, the man who had been my art teacher since fourth grade, gave me some advice. I was struggling with the conflicting dreams of pursuing the hope of becoming a musician or studying to become a visual artist. His counsel was simple and wise: “you can’t do both.” At that point of decision, it seemed that since I was largely a self taught musician, I could conceivably continue to be so. Instinctively I knew that there was so much that I needed to be taught and learn and so much time I needed to devote to the disciplines of drawing and painting. So, I chose art without regret. The music, however, has never left. I have outgrown (mostly) the delusions about being a famous musician. It has become an intensely personal discipline. It is a language through which I speak to my God and through which He speaks to me. It is a language I bless my children with. It is a language I use to share my heart with those that are close to me. Times have changed and technology that did not exist or was just emerging when I was young has made it possible for me to share what I have largely kept to myself, my family and my close friends. It was not an easy decision to share publicly what has been so private. But this, I have done.

The name of the album is Cry The Blood. The blood is Jesus’ and the cry is mine, though there are many quiet voices beside me. I chose to recorded under the pseudonym, i am erth. (The “a” is missing on purpose, a decision which spell check is relentless in punishing me for.) The land is a passion of mine and a place of meeting and learning as I live as a son under God’s sky. I am close to the erth, and it is never far from me.

For the curious: I wrote the songs, sang all the parts and plucked every string, blew every note, squeezed every box, recorded, mixed and stabbed out every digital pulse. It is far from perfect. I blame myself for the flaws, you can decide if there is beauty in them. You can hear my kids, and my animals, the wind and the rain, creaks and clicks and bonks, and probably a freight train. I’ll thank my friends who encourage me and hold me up in the testing. There is one among those who deserves more credit than any, but I know he prefers anonymity. If you want to thank him, eat a steak or go fly fishing in Montana.

Through the ideas and labor of many, this album will (if not already) ultimately be available for downloaded from major online music retailers. Below is a link to iTunes, where it is already available.

You may be interested in what Elizabeth Duffy has on her blog. Elizabeth is my friend, but she began as a stranger asking me questions. She has been instrumental in pushing me to make the music available and has written a very encouraging review of as well. In addition, Elizabeth has included a portion of her interview with me as a means of introduction. It has been a rare opportunity for me to express what I believe and why I do what I do. I couldn’t have voiced it without her asking and without the creative, sensitive and trustworthy nature of who she is. Thank you, Elizabeth.

In a final bit of disclosure, I began an instagram feed early last fall. While I still remain ambivalent towards much of the usage, I have come to value it as unique for sharing imagery and stories on a different platform and immediacy, it is kind of a microcosm of the posts I make here. My user name is @baumwerkj if you are interested.

I continually thank you for your support here over the years. It has been 8 years since I began this blog. Your quiet interest has given me encouragement to continue working. All glory and honor will be and ever remain His.

Jack Baumgartner, Rose Hill, Kansas Jan-19-2015

Go On, Obed Edom

For many years the story and name of Obed Edom have struck deeply within me. His story in the bible is pretty short. As with many things I have tried to make my work a path into exploring this mystery. This print is now finished. To go along with its completion, I have included a song that I wrote a number of years ago of the same subject and with the same goal in mind. I hope that they are moderately fitting accompaniment to a powerful story and special man who I know very little about.

“I Chose You, Obed Edom” linocut, 12″x18″, sepia ink on French’s Durotone paper

eyes and burning “V”, feather, wheat and cedar sprig in his head covering.

Cherubim and Mercy Seat

Obed Edom’s right hand

three birds in his beard

The Holy Ghost’s wild goose, and sleeping kestrel

Small History of Flying Fish

sandstone, guitar flying fish5

…If we set the little paraffin lamp out at night, flying fish were attracted by the light and large and small, shot over the raft… flying fish7

…It sometimes happened that we heard an outburst of strong language from a man on deck when a cold flying fish came unexpectedly, at a good speed, slap into his face…

…They always came at a good pace and snout first, and if they caught one full in the face they made it burn and tingle…

…But the unprovoked attack was quickly forgiven by the injured party, for with all its drawbacks, we were in a maritime land of enchantment where delicious fish dishes came hurling through the air…

…We used to fry them for breakfast, and wether it was the fish, the cook or our appetites, they reminded us of fried troutlings once we had scraped the scales off… Thor Heyerdahl, Kon Tiki, 1950

…There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?……Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all… …Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted… …When they were satisfied, he told, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.”

…So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets… John 6, 9-13 NRSV

In the dark and unlit ceiling of the Loretta Chapel there is a lonely painting of a chunky fish atop a heavy slab of bread. At the moment Thor Heyerdahl’s balsa log raft was colliding with a dusty man breaking bread in the grass of Palestine. The long pilgrim road leading through elder drifts, slabs of rock, mountains of hailstones, unearthly fish with a mouth like a grave. The sign of Jonah. Provision comes unlooked for, and fear is weathered away.