News

I was one of 88 out of 320 total artists whose work was selected for the 2009 Arkansas Artist Engagement Calendar sponsored by the Governor's Mansion Association. Here is the work selected:

The Dogmatist, linocut, 2005
(Click for larger image.)

The Studio is Finally Finished!

I began work on the studio last March. I first had to resurface the deck that is above the workshop that came with the house. I had to make sure it was waterproofed most of all. Of course, I had never resurfaced a deck before so that was a learning experience. Then, I began the process of remodeling the workshop into an art studio -- again, never doing any of this before. So between working full-time, getting married, having a honeymoon and reception, being in a marriage with a stepson, it's finally finished! Here are two slideshows of the process....



Studio Renovation : North End View





Studio Renovation : South End View

Solomon's Story: Solomon James Lewisb. Mar. 2, 1993 - d. Nov. 14, 2007

[Click on the smaller images for bigger views.] This entry is not really an art related post. March 2 was what would have been my cat Solomon's birthday. He would have been 15 years old. I had to have him put to sleep during the early morning hours of this past November 14 at the emergency veterinary clinic. I've been wanting to write his story here since then, but have only become ready to do so now.

First, I want to say I feel great sadness for people who don't find connection with our animal friends. Our relationship with one another is ancient--one that is documented by artists thousands of years ago on the walls of caves. Dogs were beside man on those early hunts. Cats were in temples and even counted among the gods. Our relationship with animals has grown more distant in many ways, reduced to a few house pets for the majority of us and some team mascots or captive in zoos where they are "exhibited." I have always found great friendship and companionship with animals having had cats, lizards, turtles, fish, rabbits, and a hamster. Mostly, I have adored cats. I have found their spirits mesmerizing and their individual differences boundless, their curiosity and intelligence limitless, and most of all, I've identified with their independence and great disinterest in being controlled. Pets are one of the few creatures who grant us unconditional love in our lives. Solomon was that kind of cat. Unfortunately, unlike "real" parents of real children, we commit to only a brief time with our "children." We know that it is quite likely we will outlive them, but embark on the relationship anyway, knowing full well that we will be there for the sad goodbye.

Solomon was meant to be in my life. I had just had an encounter with a Mississippi river rat in my basement apartment after the flood of 1993 (another story for another time). I was living in the river town of Cape Girardeau, Missouri. About a week after the rat encounter, I went to a church picnic about a block away from my apartment. We were having hot dogs and hamburgers. Near the beginning of the picnic my cousin's girlfriend came walking toward me with this dingy grey cat and said, "Hey Steph. Look what I found!" He looked less than a year old. She continued, "You should keep this guy. He could help you with your rat problem." The cat had apparently wandered across her path when she was on her way to the picnic. I held the cat and told him, "You're coming home with me, buddy." I fed him some hot dog from the picnic which he ate gladly. He seemed to have not eaten in awhile. When I took him home, I washed him in some of my hair shampoo and made a bed for him out of a cardboard box with some sheets in it. He seemed happy to be inside and comfortable.

That's me with the toothbrush in my mouth.
Solomon is just a little over 1 year old in this picture.

That was the way I met Solomon. I combed the papers for a week to see if anyone was missing a grey cat about his age. I even called someone, but their cat was younger. After checking around for awhile, I gave up checking, and he became mine. That year was an interesting year for me. I could tell you about my upstairs neighbors--one of whom had his girlfriend shave his back for him which would cause plumbing problems for the upstairs and would force some of the guys (who we were friends with) to come use our shower. I could also tell you about my criminal landlord and the incredibly unsafe apartment with smoking wiring. Solomon was my calming presence that year.

Solomon liked being inside that first year, but didn't like being without me. I was going to school full time and was gone most of the day. I'd get reports from upstairs on a regular basis about his caterwauling because I was gone. He had some strong pipes to be sure. When I'd get home, I also discovered that he liked to grab the roll of toilet paper, run a stream all the way into the living room and chew up the end of it into tiny little spit wads left neatly in a pile at the end of the stream. It looked like a pile of paper gun powder streaming to the back of the house. He had four favorite pasttimes: 1) sitting in the basement windows watching feet pass by, 2) watching my two lizards in my terrarium, and 3) sleeping with me every night. During the day, he would sleep in my laundry basket which I kept in my closet with a shower curtain for a door. 4) He loved riding in my 1971 Dodge Dart even if it was just a short trip to the store. He was a roadtripper like me.

He also liked one of my neighbors upstairs. His name was Chris and he'd never had a cat because he was a dog person. He loved Solomon because he was so large. Solomon loved him because Chris would manhandle him like he would his dogs. Every time Chris would come downstairs, he'd fling the door open and say, "Where's my buddy?!!" Solomon would come running for his manhandling session wide-eyed and excited. He could do it all day if Chris had the time. Solomon converted Chris to cat personhood.

At the end of that year, I took him home to live with me and my mom's three cats, my sister's cat Libby, and my other cat Alice. My mom's cats were named Bonnie, Chrissy, and Skeeter. Solomon stayed in my room for awhile and then we slowly introduced him to the other five cats. He was respectful of the matriarch, Bonnie and of Libby and Skeeter, but he discovered that Chrissy was the weakest link and tried to establish dominance over her, much to my mother's chagrin as Chrissy was her "baby." Curiously enough, he formed an attachment to my rather crazy cat Alice who I had adopted a year prior but couldn't have her live with me at the time. They got along amazingly even though they were opposites. He was sensitive and affectionate, but tough when he needed to be -- territorial over all he surveyed and especially protective of me. Alice was and is a high strung and neurotic tiny cat with a strangely commanding attitude despite her diminutive size. Her six pound body actually pushed his 16 pound body around and he willingly complied even though he could kill her a million times over. This was their first of many summers together.

I went back to school in the fall for my last semester. I lived in another basement apartment that was actually across the driveway from my previous apartment. I had made friends that previous year with the minister of the Wesley House. He invited me to room for free with another girl if I agreed to be a caretaker of the place. Free rent is hard to pass up. This basement apartment was much nicer. Solomon was very comfortable in this apartment and he had his basement window to sit in, and my laundry basket, and my bed. I had freed my lizards so he was my only pet. He was always a man of simple needs -- very stoic and never asking too much. That semester had an adventure involving a ghost (another story for another time) and a roommate who turned out to be not what she seemed. It was the semester of two of my regrets regarding Solomon. One was that I had him declawed that semester. Before I could take him back home to my parents' house after graduating, one of my mother's requirements was to have him declawed like her cats so he wouldn't have an advantage (or tear up her furniture). It was a very difficult surgery for him and he ended up being in a lot of pain. I always wished I had never had him or Alice declawed. The second regret was that I had had this falling out with my roommate and she moved out suddenly. Her friends told me right after she left that she had been mad at me a long time and was abusing Solomon. They had seen her kick him in the stomach across the kitchen floor and against the wall. I asked why they didn't tell me when it happened. They said, "Because you would have killed her." They were correct. I hadn't seen the signs of his increasing skitteriness.

After graduating, I took him home to live with me at my parents' house until I would go to graduate school. I worked full time for about 8 months until the fall of 1995. This period was his bonding period with Alice. They had become the best of friends -- probably because they were closer in age and because opposites do seem to attract.

One of my favorite pictures of

Solomon and Alice during this period.

While living with my parents during this period, I had some wisdom teeth extracted. I had to recover home alone after the surgery. Solomon intuited the pain I was in and wrapped his body over the top of my head like he was a pair of giant earmuffs and laid with me all day. He was also disturbed anytime I would cry and would run to comfort me.

In May of 1995, I took an impromptu road trip to Alaska with a friend (yet another story for another time). I also had just purchased my first newer vehicle -- a 1993 Nissan Truck. Alaska gave me my first epiphany about life. Solomon was there before the epiphany and he was there afterward. I worked two jobs that summer and then went off to graduate school.

Solomon and Alice were 2 and 3 years old respectively when I moved to Arkansas. Alice rode in my parents' Suburban on the way down. Solomon rode with me in my truck. She was quiet the whole way. Solomon cried all of the six hours except the first twenty minutes and the last twenty minutes. He preferred to be able to walk around the car, but since I only had a truck cab and the Dodge Dart was passed on to my sister, he had to stay in his cat carrier. He didn't much care for confinement.


I lived in my first apartment in Arkansas throughout graduate school for about 3 and a half years. Three stories come to mind about Solomon during this period of my life: the time he got out of the apartment; the time Buddy, my neighbor's cat got into the apartment; and, the first time he met a kitten close up. When I first moved into the apartment I began attending a Friday night drawing group at the University. I think I'd only gone to two of these sessions when the following event occurred. For about a week, Alice had been playing with a leaf touching the outside of my screen in the window of my bedroom. I hadn't thought anything about it at the time. I came home one Friday night and Alice came running, but not Solomon, which was unusual. As I entered the living room, there was a line of leaves leading from the living room into the bedroom and when I turned on the light in my bedroom I saw that the screen had been ripped open. I frantically ran outside, tears streaming down my face, calling his name and God's alternatively. It was a sight to see. I worried about him because he'd been an indoor cat for 2 years and hadn't been outside in Arkansas so was unfamiliar with his environment. I feared I would never find him. I walked counter-clockwise around the apartment complex until I heard two cats caterwauling at each other, one of which was Solomon. He was puffed off and facing off with another tom cat. He wouldn't let me approach him and was very disoriented. I shined my flashlight in his face so he wouldn't see me attempt to grab him. It worked and I grabbed him by the scruff and quickly supported his backside and pulled him to my torso. He immediately began purring at a level I never heard since. It was loud and thunderous and desperate. He was so relieved to be back in my arms. I took him back inside, and everything went back to the way it was.


Another time, I had brought two kittens into my apartment because I was planning on transporting them to someone else who wanted to adopt them. I kept Alice and Solomon in the bedroom half of my apartment and the kittens in the living room/kitchen half of my apartment. Right before I was going to transport the kittens, I thought I'd check out what the cats would think of the kittens. I opened the bedroom door and let Solomon see one of the kittens a few feet away. He caught sight of it, dropped down low in stalking mode, with this murderous look in his eyes and a guttural sound coming out of his mouth. The kitten frolicked innocently toward him and I scooped the kitten up, realizing that he was going to kill it. I had never had a male cat and didn't realize that some tom cats wish to kill kittens instinctively. I was very disappointed in my baby that day.


Still another story was when Solomon was sitting on my rocking chair about 15 feet away from my other entrance to my apartment. It was an internal stairway. My neighbor came over for a visit, but didn't realize her cat Buddy had followed behind. Buddy immediately began eating Alice and Solomon's food by the door. Meanwhile, Solomon saw Buddy, quietly got down from the rocking chair, crouched down low and went into what I call "choo-choo" mode. He began moving low and rapidly like a train toward the unsuspecting cat. Buddy looked up from crunching on their food and saw this 16 pound cat charging him and ran back down the stairs. To give you an idea of how fast this transpired, it happened in the time it took for my friend to come into my apartment and close the door behind her. Seconds. I'll never forget Buddy's face when he saw my mammoth cat coming toward him. Buddy never showed any interest in coming into the apartment again.

After I graduated from graduate school, I moved into an apartment that was larger so I could have a studio in my home. I lived in this apartment for 8 years, so the bulk of Solomon's history was in this apartment. It is during this period that our bond deepened. We had always had a habit of laying together before going to sleep. We started a ritual of listening to the radio on the computer and laying together before I'd go to sleep at this point in our history. We both got very used to this ritual. Solomon would often go in before me in anticipation of "Solomon time." I would usually lay there and listen to the radio while petting and talking to him. He lived for these moments, and it was a good way to wind down my day. This period in his history was also filled with games of laser light tag, which was his favorite game in his adult life. He would leap and frolic like a kitten even though his giant body and large paws thudded hard against the wood floors. It was an adorable sight. He was also a connoisseur of catnip. He would roll his entire body in it and eat it until he was as high as a kite. He was a true hedonist, which is one of the reasons why I respect cats.

He also had a neurotic quirk that I discovered in this apartment. All of my closet doors were folding doors. He had never liked closed doors, but these were particularly irksome to him. He would bounce his large body against them until they would inch open. Then he would slide his paw under the door to pull it open and go in and investigate. Basically, I'd close all the doors in the morning before I'd leave and all 4 of them would be open by the time I got home. I'd close them before bed and I'd hear him opening them all night. The closed closet doors just really bothered him. All cats are all slightly OCD in their own ways.

One of my favorite photographs of Solomon.

I dated quite a bit during this period of our history together. Solomon liked my first boyfriend in Arkansas, but after that ended, he became scrutinizing of future would-be suitors. I was dating this one man and he was intimidated by Solomon's size and Solomon was suspicious as always. Once, the man sat across from me at the kitchen table and Solomon sat between us with his body perpendicular to us. He looked at the man out of the corner of his eye. The man said, "He's checking me out!" I said, "Hey, pretend to attack me. I want to see what Solomon will do. I've always wondered." He said, "Are you kidding?!!! Have you seen the size of this cat?!!! No way!!!" This is just one example of him scrutinizing men that would come into my life.

It was also during this time that I discovered that Solomon just really liked dog people. I have a friend who is a massage therapist who cat-sat for me a couple of times. Solomon had never met her before, but the minute she entered the apartment (anytime), he would act toward her as he did toward Chris in that first apartment. He would frolic and throw himself down and roll and look like he had a smile on his face. The only thing I could determine is that since she owned Great Danes and Chris was a dog person, that he just jived with dog people.


But he wasn't a dog person himself. Whenever Solomon was curious about something outside, he'd disturb the metal window blinds noisily. There was always the constant din of what I called the "chinga-chinga-ching" sound. One night, in the middle of the night, he was frantically going after the blinds in my studio and caterwauling desperately at something outside. I got up to see what the fuss was and I opened the blinds for him and there was a husky dog outside cocking his head to one side while Solomon caterwauled at him outside. The dog was perplexed. Solomon then thrust his entire body against the window so his paws and chest hit the glass with some extreme force. The dog ran off. Solomon always believed he was the owner of all he surveyed and could kick any dog's ass inside or outside of the house.

Getting to know each other: Neither is very sure it will work out.

When my husband entered my life, Solomon was suspicious as always, but he was soon charmed by many games of laser light. Solomon had a lot of fun with Jeremiah in the later years of his life, but he would always remain my best friend. Solomon liked my husband very much eventually, but never warmed up to his son. He was terrified of children from very early on. I always wondered if he came from a household of mean little children that made him run away. One time, he heard children talking on the radio and ran off the bed and out of the room. I tried to reassure my husband's son it wasn't personal.

Making friends.

In the fall of 2006 we moved to Bella Vista, Arkansas. The backside of the house is almost entirely windows with the view of the forest and some bird feeders and tons of morning sun. I thought this place would be perfect for Jeremiah and I but also a fitting and comfortable retirement for my two elderly cats. I had no idea at this point that I would only have Solomon for just over another year. We kept our nightly ritual up and Jeremiah played laser light with him on a regular basis. Alice still kept warm with him.

In the spring of 2007, a feral cat had her kittens on our property and we decided to keep one to inject some youthful vigor into the house. Samson and Alice were and are at odds with each other--probably because they have similar wills. Samson took to Solomon as a male mentor. Solomon surprisingly had gotten over his bloodlust for kittens. I was pleased and relieved. He took to fathering Samson. He would bathe him and play with him and discipline him, when Alice didn't want anything to do with him.


I didn't see signs of Solomon's illness until 3-4 days before I had to put him to sleep. In hindsight things were recognized, but even if I had discovered his problem months in advance, it would not have been likely that he would have lived much longer. He lived out his last weeks the way he wanted to. I noticed that he was spending a lot of time daydreaming out the bedroom window in the sun. A week and a half or so before he passed, Samson had grown and began to challenge Solomon's dominance. Solomon put him in his place in a fight that seemed to invigorate him. He was suddenly very spry and strong and succeeded in putting Samson in his place. He had a look of joy on his face as he fought and a look of pride when the fight ended. He walked away with a little pep in his step.

One of the last photos of Solomon and Alice
after 12 years together. Alice misses him too.

The day before he passed, Samson and Alice were spending a lot of time with him. I had made an appointment for him at the veterinarian for the next day thinking that he just wasn't being himself. When I came home, both of the other cats were wrapped around him in an unusual way on a largely unused chair. That night I went to an event at work and when we got home we noticed that Solomon hadn't been eating or drinking. He would just go over to his food or water and stare at either and walk away. I gave him a can of wet food and he ate that like he was starving so I thought there might be something wrong with his teeth. I had to help him into the bed that night for our ritual. He didn't seem to have much strength. I petted him and talked to him during our one last bedtime ritual. I fell asleep and Jeremiah got me up at midnight and said that Solomon had thrown up what little he ate of the wet food, so we took him to the emergency veterinary clinic. They initially gave us hope and said I could pick him up in the morning, but called the house as soon as we got back and said he was slipping away fast and recommended euthanasia. It was complete kidney failure. He was gone at 4:30 a.m. on November 14, 2007. I thought about writing about his last hours and minutes, but they are not fruitful to repeat and just like in life I want this piece to focus on his life and not his death. Suffice it to say, I was there with him like he had been with me. I told him I loved him over and over and called him by his secret nickname as he slipped away. I know he heard me because he calmed down as I talked to him. He went peacefully as he deserved.

Many stories and anecdotes are missing from this biography of a truly noble cat. He was with me from the age of 21 to 35 -- through schooling, graduations, art exhibitions, joys, sorrows, and epiphanies. During his life Solomon was playful, had a sense of humor, was manly, tough, sensitive, neurotic, dignified, stoic, loving, affectionate, a great friend and companion, a dog person, and a fighter until the end. He was all the things people can be with the unconditional love only innocence can offer. He will be missed always. He was so beautiful.






Some more photos.



Solomon playing with his laser light.

© Stephanie Lewis, 2008

No, Really, It's True!

Sorry I haven't written in awhile. The other day, we were attending some workshops at work, and we had an icebreaker in one of them. We were supposed to reveal two truths and one lie about ourselves. Then other people were supposed to guess which item was the lie. Most people were surprised to hear that I've seen The Monkees in concert TWICE. Here's the story.... I saw them first when I was 14 and then when I was 15. The first time I saw them, The Grass Roots, Herman's Hermits, and Garry Puckett and the Union Gap opened for them. The second time, Weird Al Yankovic opened for them. I had loved The Monkees since I was small--watching them on syndication with friends. From 1986-1989, The Monkees made a stab at some comeback tours. I caught two of them. So, by now, you're thinking I'm a huge geek--which may be true. But, let's keep in mind that I was a child. All of this is not the interesting part of the story. My parents didn't want to take me to the first concert, and since I couldn't drive, I was in quite a pickle. At some point, I was talking to my seventh grade teacher who I had the year prior and he said he loved all those bands and grew up with them. I told him my parents didn't want to take me. He volunteered to take me! Since my parents knew him, they let him. Before your mind goes anywhere it ought not to, I went to a small Lutheran School where everyone knew everyone and it was also a different time. I doubt he would do it these days.

(l to r) Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork in 1987.
That's right. Davy has a mullet: office in the front, party in the back.

Anyway, when the time came, he picked me up in his Volkswagen Rabbit and took me to the concert. A good time was had by all and two generations had a meeting of the minds. The concert was fairly long and he took me home late and that's the end of the story. So, not only am I a geek, but I'm a huge geek because my first "date" was with my seventh grade teacher to a Monkees concert. I still have the photos of the concert somewhere. I also still have the program and t-shirt. And if you're wondering, yes, I still have all of their albums. And I will go toe-to-toe with you on Monkee trivia any day. Try this:

Name which item of trivia about the Monkees is NOT true (without researching on the internet)?

A. Charles Manson auditioned to be a Monkee
B. Jack Nicholson co-wrote The Monkees' feature length film
C. Toni Basil (of "Oh Mickey" fame) made an appearance in The Monkees' feature length film
D. Davy Jones and Mike Nesmith have the same birthday
E. Mike Nesmith wrote Linda Ronstadt's song "Different Drum" when she was with the Stone Poneys

Email me your guess and I'll tell you if you're right. I'll tell you the right answer if you're wrong. Don't cheat!

Now, based on what you know of me, which Monkee do you think was my favorite?

Davy Jones

Micky Dolenz

Mike Nesmith

Peter Tork

Email that answer to me as well, and I'll tell you if you're right, but only if you're honest and tell me who your favorite one was.

New Family Member

A couple of months ago, a feral cat had kittens on our property. After separating them at weaning time and socializing them for a couple of weeks, I ran into the reality of the animal welfare system in Northwest Arkansas. The shelters are overflowing because people still have a rural mentality in a rapidly developing suburban/urban area. Animals are abandoned, not spayed or neutered, and treated in the cruelest of ways. And, unfortunately, there isn't a lot of support, funds, policies, and laws to help them all so a great deal of them are euthanized.

So, we took on the task of trying to adopt out the four kittens ourselves. The shelters were so crowded that they were beginning to euthanize kittens and puppies and begged foster "parents" to take in some of the kittens and puppies. I spoke to one such foster parent who had 40 kittens alone in her garage and was trying to adopt those out. That is the sad nature of the glut of unwanted animals in this area, and with attitudes like this, it is no surprise.

I took action. I drove them to my hometown, St. Louis, where there is NOT a glut of unwanted animals, but kittens like these are in demand. I took them to a veterinary clinic I know of and they adopted them out in less than a week. I decided after much deliberation that I would take one myself and introduced a new family member to my house of two elderly cats. My husband, his son, and I all had the same favorite kitten and were initially calling our new kitten "Adventure Boy" because he liked challenging himself. I've have a cat named Solomon and my husband's name is Jeremiah, so in keeping with a Biblical name, we're now calling this new member of our family Samson. It seems a fitting name for Adventure Boy, since Samson slayed a lion and ate honey from the carcass, cavorted with prostitutes, married twice outside his tribe, broke ropes that bound him, slayed 3000 men with the jawbone of a donkey, carried heavy city gates on his back, and eventually pushed an entire temple down with his bare hands (Judges 13 - 16).

Doesn't he seem like he could push a temple down?
Well, maybe not right now....

My Wedding Day: May 18, 2007

Photography by Phillip Thomas at Novo-Studio.

An Original Poem by Me

As promised recently, I've decided to share a poem that I wrote with my seventh grade mind. The class at the time had to create a poetry journal that included freeverse/unmetered poems, freeverse/metered poems, sonnets, limericks, Haiku, and cinquain poems by various poets as well as our own original work under the same categories. I included work by the following poets in my journal: Carl Sandburg, William Carlos Williams, e.e. cummings, Ogden Nash, Robert Frost, Shiki, Basho, Daigaku Horiguchi, Okura, Shakespeare, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

My Freeverse/Unmetered Poem.....


Spring Garden

In the spring garden
Where the tulip grows
In the path beneath,
A girl is walking.

© Stephanie Lewis, 1985


* Look for more of my seventh grade poems in the future.

A Wild Bunch

The semester draws to a close. I met with my Introduction to Drawing class for the last time. Here is a picture of the Art Posse.

(l to r): Sheree Barnes, Katie Glenn, Jennifer Spain, Lindsey Rominger, Alex Garcia, Linda Luanglathay, Justin Mabie (back), Raul Bonilla (front), Margie Pritchett, Innie Stam, Olga Ledyan, Jesus Torres, and Michael Ferrell (not pictured: Denis Rubaloff and Claudia Lutzen)

Having this class has led me to reconsider my policy on coffee consumption. This group had a lot of energy for an 8:00 a.m. class, and I can only attribute it to the rush of trying to stay alive on 540 during morning rush hour and/or the consumption, en masse, of large quantities of java. Studio classes have a different dynamic than lecture classes. The group is more "in the trenches" as a team and lasting relationships are more likely to be formed. Feel free to visit my webpage of student work on the NWACC site to see some new images I've added from this class to my collection from over the years. Push the "play" button to view an automatic slide show. Here are some highlights:

View from the Lighthouse (An Homage to Picasso Project)
by Claudia Lutzen; watercolor

She Thinks She's Better (A Figure Drawing Project)
by Raul Bonilla; charcoal


Homage to Picasso Project by Innie Stam; colored pencil


Magritte Project by Lindsey Rominger; mixed media


Figure Drawing by Olga Ledyan; charcoal


Self-Portrait as a Simpson by Katie Glenn; acrylic


Self-Portrait by Sheree Barnes; acrylic

To see more pictures of the last day of class click on the NEWS page on my faculty webpage.

A Poem:The Duck, by Ogden Nash

In seventh grade, we made a poetry journal. We had to collect a percentage of poems from other poets and write some of our own as well. This poem by Ogden Nash is one I remember fondly. Maybe at some point, I'll try to find that poetry journal and publish some of my original poems in my seventh grade mind here on my blog.

My Visit to St. Louis

I went to St. Louis the St. Patrick's Day weekend to visit my new nephew, Andrew Clark Fattic. My cousin Amy and Aunt Darlene came up from Poplar Bluff, Missouri to do the same. Here are some pictures from the weekend:

Cool Slideshows

Some Photographers of Note

I've been a reviewer of a photography contest for the last three years. It's called Critical Mass. It's organized by an organization called Photolucida. I just finished reviewing the contestants today and thought I'd share some of the photographers I found to be particularly talented and intriguing in vision:

Jessica Bruah
David G. Burdeny
Tom Chambers
Polly Chandler
James Gritz
Ruth Kaplan
Doug Landreth
Nate Larson
Bill O'Donnell
Darcy Padilla
Susana Maria Cerdeira Paiva
Larry W. Schwarm
Camille Seaman
Gordon Stettinius
Debra Tomaszewski
Shoshannah White
Edward Yanowitz

My Top Favorite Movies (Revised)

1. Harold and Maude

2. Magnolia

3. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind











4. Amelie











5. Being There*











6. Dancer in the Dark











7. Songs from the Second Floor











8. Donnie Darko











9. Dogville











10. Little Miss Sunshine*











11. Me and You and Everyone We Know











12. THX 1138

Book Review: "The Origin of Satan" by Elaine Pagels

I finally finished this book. It took me so long because it is a lot to chew on, especially when you don't have a lot of time to enjoy a good book. As the title implies, this book gives us the chronicle of the life, history, character, and personality of the being called "Satan." Elaine Pagels does a thorough job as always elucidating complex theology and theological history for the lay person. The entity of Satan has changed numerous times over Judeo-Christian history. This is the history she focuses on and does not address other religions' evil entities.

Satan starts out as part of God's world, employed by him as an obstructor or adversary to human events. He is meant as a challenger as well as a stumbling block:

"Although Hebrew storytellers as early as the sixth century BCE occasionally introduced a supernatural character whom they called the satan, what they meant was any one of the angels sent by God for the specific purpose of blocking or obstructing human activity. The root (of the word) means "one who opposes, obstructs, or acts as adversary." (The Greek term "diabolos," later translated "devil," literally means "one who throws something across one's path.")"

In this version of Satan, he is not necessarily malevolent, "as the literary scholar Neil Forsyth says of the satan, "if the path is bad, an obstruction is good.""

So, here begins the character history of Satan. Even his name is lowercase as if it is a job description and not a reflection of the entity's character. Gradually, as Pagels explains through the book, Satan began to take on personhood, became prideful, fell, became malevolent, was an outsider ("other"), took on a spiritual dimension, then was someone on the inside of a group or a person, and ultimately is engaged in cosmic battle with God and his angels. This does not really contradict the religious story that much. What's interesting to observe is what corresponds with these changes in the character of Satan.

When he is an adversary or stumbling block, the ancient Jews are struggling. He is the satan, not Satan. He is the person who works for God who keeps them from accomplishing their goals and guides them in the correct direction, even if it is painful. During the Maccabean wars, some Jews were dissatisfied with the breakdown of their community. It is this period in which Satan falls from grace, becomes a spiritual being, and is defined as an enemy -- during a time of war. The first time a spiritual battle between Satan and God is explored is when the Essenes divide from the mainstream Jewish people and try to follow their own legalistic precepts. Their personal battle is moralistic -- so a battle in heaven must be going on. During early Christianity, Satan vacillates from being the enemy without and within at the same time the Jews are being taught as outside God's plan unless they accept Christ. The Jews, to Christians, are at once, brothers of early Christians (since a lot were Jewish), and outsiders because they won't become Christian. This builds up the idea of a spiritual battle even more. Then, Satan is portrayed as an outsider during the persecution of the early church--which comes as no surprise as the Pagan government was responsible, and they were not like the early Christians--they were "other (outside)". After the early church is established, heretics rise in the ranks to question official church doctrine. It is then that Satan moves within again. The spiritual battle is in full force within the church. After the various protestant sects emerge and the world is proliferated with dozens of Christian denominations, Satan becomes the leader of a COSMIC battle without and within--determined to destroy the church and all believers (indeed, the world) in a final apocalyptic battle.

This is a crude summary, but hopefully, the reader will get the pattern I got. Satan starts out as a minor annoyance and teacher at worst to the future destroyer of mankind. That's quite a change in character over the span of about 2000 years. It seemed to me, after reading Pagels' book that we humans, who have a tendency to make God in OUR image, have done the same with Satan. If we are just struggling, Satan is a pain. If our families are disintegrating, Satan is in spiritual battle within the unit. If our cherished institutions are threatened, Satan is in battle with us. If the nature of our beliefs or faith are attacked, he is apocalyptic in his goals. When he was an adversary, his scale was personal and tribal in scope. When the institutional church perceives an attack and other competiting interpretations of faith abound, he becomes COSMIC and destructive.

So, we have over the brief amount of historical time, projected our darker selves onto either a real or imagined being. I've always found it interesting that people blame God or Satan about equally for their behavior or circumstances, and rarely take their own responsibility for these things. Hmmm. Discuss.

Elaine Pagels

© Stephanie Lewis, 2006