About Mark Pierson

Husband to one, father to four, grandfather to four. Garden variety pastor by trade. No garden at present. Lover of electronic music and installation art. Either by anyone. Inspired by the work of Brian Eno, Bruce Ramus, Special Problems, Jugglers Art Space, SJD, Willie Williams, Steve McQueen, Mike Riddell, Todd Fadel, Urban Seed, Oscar Romero, Stephen Proctor, Bill Viola, Len Lye, Nam June Paik, and Feist.

Are Pastors Killing Artists?

Tomorrow evening I’m speaking to a first-time gathering of artists and creatives at one of the larger churches in New Zealand. While they come from the charismatic, evangelical category of worship, the categories are much less rigid in NZ than they are in the USA.

The brief is to “talk about your experience of the interaction between art and worship in a Church such as ours. How can artists be incorporated more… anything that might inspire people!”

I have been invited by the senior pastor, which is a very good start as nothing of significance will happen in this church without his support and permission.

His language gives me hope in that he uses the word “interaction” and “artists.” I have been part of a church where the vision statement was “to use the arts more.” Read “to abuse the arts more,” and to “abuse artists more.”

To have integrity for the church and for the artists the interaction must be about artists rather than about art. It’s the artists who are part of the worshipping community and its they who need to have expression for their gifts, and access to engagement with God through those gifts, in the same way those with singing or musical roles do.

Most churches are more interested in getting a recognisable painting of Jesus to hang on the sanctuary wall than they are of an abstract interpretation of an artists engagement with what God has done in their life in allowing Jesus to die on the cross.

So I’ll be talking about that important distinction, and why I don’t think this church will actually allow their artists to interact in any significant way with their worship. Its simply too dangerous for most senior pastors and leadership teams. It’s too open-ended. It’s not measurable. It’s not containable in a nice box: it hangs over the edges and the lid won’t fit on. The moment an artist gets beyond simple description and into the depths of interpretation there is the potential, even likelihood, of the “C” word.

Controversy. No pastor likes controversy. Pastors will defend theological minutae to the death (theirs and their congregation’s), but an artist who causes controversy among those who pay their salary? They will allow that person to be hung out to dry. I often hear stories of this happening. While I can understand it. It is wrong.

This is exactly why we need artists contributing to the life of our churches. In worship and other ways. They bring insights and challenges that unsettle and question in ways that nothing else can. It’s in this opening up that God can speak to us. Particularly to those of us who are less through spoken words and more through visual media.

Even if the pastor who has invited me to speak does support these artists, I know there are strong people in leadership who will react badly at the first whiff of oil paint they don’t understand. Will this pastor be willing to stand in that gap between the artist and the leader, or the artist and some vocal members? That’s the role of the pastor in my opinion. It’s a role very few pastors are willing to take, and a support and permission that artists in most churches lack.

I’ll be saying that tomorrow as well. Might as well get it all out there so they have something to talk about after I leave.

This church has a tagline ‘No perfect people allowed.’ We’ll soon see how true the inverse of that is – are only those who consider themselves, or others, imperfect allowed? I’ll be putting that to the test.

I’m not great at saying hard things clearly and directly, but this is my intention tomorrow night. What would you say if you were in my situation? I’ll let you know how I get on.

This post originally appeared on Creative Worship Tour, October 28, 2009.

Image © iStockphoto

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How Do You Decide If Worship Is “Good” or a Success?

This post originally appeared on Creative Worship Tour, September 23, 2009.

Today I printed off the production file for the World Vision Australia worship I am curating in two weeks time. Ninety minutes of non-singing, art installation-based stations worship built around the theme of “Lingering With Intent” – the intent to hear from God, to give thanks to God, and to seek God’s guidance for the year ahead. More than thirty pages describing “what I want to say”, the site locations, concepts and design for each station, equipment lists, station notes and so on. Fifty iterations of thirteen different stations.

Thirty pages, eighty hours of my work, more from other peoples contributions, twelve people installing on the day before (five making the trip from New Zealand). I have already made two site visits, and will spend another four days on my next visit to install and curate and pack out the worship, for five-hundred people.

Is it all worth it? How will I know?

How do we measure the success or otherwise of worship? Should we? My early posts made it clear that I believe worship can be unsuccessful. What makes the difference?

I’m not talking about trying to evaluate or measure the worship of any individual, that can only be known by the individual and God. I’m interested in the degree to which the way the event is curated enables or hinders the worship of individuals and the community at the worship.

I believe very strongly that the way I curate a public worship event has a huge impact on the ability or not of people to worship (to respond to the Trinitarian community of God, heart soul, mind, strength, as I have defined worship previously). I believe this to be equally true of a community of faith at worship 11am Sunday and a sacred space curated in a public place for anyone to engage with at 3pm Wednesday.

It worries me that we too often do not, or are not willing to, evaluate what we do in worship. We somehow assume that because its worship, that God will take anything we offer, and that to evaluate that in any way is somehow just not appropriate. Again I would say that I am not concerned about the way people actually worship or the content of those interactions with God, but about evaluating the way I curate worship.

So how do I decide if worship is “good” or successful? How do I know if what I have prepared for World Vision is good worship? Not by counting the accolades from people as they leave, although an ego rub doesn’t go astray! And genuine responses, especially those that describe a specific response/encounter/experience are a welcome part of any evaluation. But they aren’t enough on their own, and a zero response does not necessarily indicate poor worship.

I decide before the worship begins.

If I have done the very best I can do given the resources available, I consider it good worship. The problem with this definition is that it doesn’t hold up for worship done by other people! You may have noticed that I can be quite critical of worship events I attend/participate in. It would be arrogant and presumptuous of me to assume that the curators of those events hadn’t given it their best. They probably have. What they lacked often was experience, or alternative models, or some basic principles. So I am in trouble with my definition.

I’ve not analysed this process of evaluation before, but here goes.

Giving it my best involves measuring myself against a number of elements:
1. Staying true to my working definition of worship.
2. Analysing the category of worship required (community, transitional, guerilla)
3. Carefully answering the question, “What do I want to say?”
4. Collaborating with people I trust to reflect back to me criticism and affirmation.
5. Being still long enough and often enough to hear what God is saying to me about what I am doing as I do it.
6. Constantly imagining the “congregation” responding and how they will know what is expected of them at any point. This helps me remember the range of “ages and stages” present and to clarify my instructions.
7. Praying and imagining through the whole event on paper. This helps me see segues and transitions that are needed, as well as how the elements flow or not.
8. Doing the work of exegesis and understanding well any biblical text involved.

What other criteria do you think are important?

So I “know” that this worship is good. Sounds arrogant but it isn’t. I am totally dependent on the Holy Spirit turning up in 500 different ways. I can’t engage people with God, but I can set them on a path toward that possibility. To do that I have used all the gifts, experience, intuition, creativity and knowledge that God has given me. I can do no more except pray that God will step into the gaps on the day. I believe she will.

What do you reckon? Have I missed the boat?

image © iStockphoto

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Content and Context: Getting the Balance Right?

I recently experienced worship in a very beautiful space. The curator had gone to a massive amount of effort to curate a space that was almost overwhelmingly beautiful and detailed. The building was very ordinary – a 1960’s, 120 degree wedge shape made out of concrete blocks. The curator hung 16 huge 2m x 4m (6ft x 12ft) sheets of handmade paper from wires across the high ceiling. These were painted and projected onto. Stacks of shredded paper, a table made from ice, a large flaming centrepiece of pumice stone, 12 potted flax bushes, various soft coloured lighting washes, a central and one either side video projectors, all contributed to the mystery and wonder of this multi-layered environment in which worship was taking place.

The worship itself was what I would describe as ambient, open-ended and stations-based. In other words after a brief introduction where some of the art and symbolism was introduced, people were encouraged to respond in whatever ways they wanted, to whatever they sensed God was saying to them. The invitation was made to move around and engage with the various ‘activities’ (stations) available in the space in the expectation of also engaging with God. Much more than a weeks work had gone into making the works of art and setting up the space. Probably more like two or three full weeks. It was magnificent, and a fitting recognition of the creativity and beauty of the God we serve.

Not everyone present was Christian. One older Kiwi Bloke from beyond the fringes of The Faith was heard to comment, “I don’t know what that was about but it was bloody good,” Other less colourful but no less sincere comments indicated that many people had encountered God in the worship event. A worship curator can’t ask for more than that. I love this kind of installation based worship. Love it. And this was well done.

The weakness of it, for me, was a shortage of content. I have been known to say that context is more important than content when it comes to worship. I do that mostly for effect, wanting to emphasise the much-neglected context. The strong point of the worship I described above was its context. The weak point was its content. The curator would acknowledge that. He’s a conceptual artist and one of the most creative people I know. That’s his strength.

I just wasn’t quite sure what to grasp onto for reflection during the event. I needed some strong biblical text to form the backbone of the worship installation and therefore give me a ‘reflecting off’ point. In my experience of curating installation worship spaces, many people encounter God in ways that I didn’t imagine when I put the worship together, and on themes not directly connected with the one I put up. That is great. Its how it should be if the trinitarian community of God is present. But as a punter coming in from the outside I like something to grab onto and work over in my mind and heart. A biblical story, theme, text to explore. At least as a starting place. This gives what is otherwise unguided and non-linear worship some shape and content. Something to hang your heart on. Its particularly important when not-Christian or young-Christian punters are engaging in the worship. The content, the Story, is what makes our worship Christian. What takes it beyond an art gallery.

Most worship today is overly content laden. Too little emphasis is given to the context. I am delighted to know that there are at least a few people, like my friend, who are emphasising the context. It’s not one or the other. A good curator emphasises both.

This was originally posted on Creative Worship Tour, July 29, 2009.

image © iStockphoto

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The Church of/for the Depressed Melancholic

This post originally appeared on Creative Worship Tour, August 26, 2009.

I’ve been struggling this past week. With external forces and with some within.

I have watched helplessly and very sadly while the lengthy marriages of two sets of friends have disintegrated, and a friend has been forced out of pastoral leadership in the church he had led, very ably in my opinion, for just a couple of years.

Internally I am very weary. Too much working, with too many deadlines and too many balls being juggled, over too long a period. Eventually it catches up and the body and mind scream out for a break. Or rather they begin to shut down and functioning well gets more difficult. Its familiar territory for me. I’ve been there many times. Every time I swear I will learn and do better in the future. I promise God I will. As I get older the period between crashes gets longer and the signs of what’s coming up get easier to read. Older but not necessarily wiser.

What is there for someone in my situation when I go to church? 30 minutes of sung worship that will pop me out of how I feel and into something “better”? A sermon giving me another 3 things to add to the hundreds I have collected over the last few years in order to better be a follower of Jesus? A stream of people asking me how I am but not waiting long enough for me to tell them?

Why do “worship leaders” nearly always expect that a good outcome in worship is to have everyone happy, “up” and talking to those around them? Eric Wilson in his wonderful book, “Against Happiness” suggests that “the predominant form of American happiness breeds blandness.” That may explain why so much worship is so bland.

My brief working definition of worship is, “people responding to the Trinitarian community of God, heart, soul, mind, strength.” Is it acceptable to God that I respond to her in ways that reflect how I am at the time, or does God expect me to pretend to be feeling differently? Or should I be “acting in faith” so that I will soon be more positive? And is “up” better, more holy, more Christ-like, than “down”?

These are, in my opinion, critical questions that any worship curator should be asking. What does “good worship” look, feel, sound, like? What should we be aiming to have as a result of the worship we curate? How do we know if worship has been “good” or successful? I have some ideas but I’m not going to explore them at the moment.

I participated in what I would call “good worship” on Sunday night. It was good for me. The preaching wasn’t too long (the combined length of two lots of notices took longer) and it was a thoughtful opening up of the biblical texts. But the best part was the response time that followed. Four simple activity stations to wander around and engage with. And in doing so to engage with God, regardless of where you were on the mental health spectrum that night. No expectations of any particular style of response. No comparisons of various responses.

I met with God. I think my neighbour who was very “happy-clappy” also did. We did so, and were given the opportunity to do so, without any expectation that our responses or the results of our responses would in any way correlate. Fantastic. And I didn’t come away feeling any “better’ than when I arrived, but I was aware of having glimpsed something more of grace and love of God for me – as I was; in my current state. Maybe that will carry me through to the “other side” where I can again renew my commitment to living more reasonably… for a while.

Authentic worship. Empathetic worship curating. That’s good worship I reckon.

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Chapter 12: Inspiration and Resources

Inspiration…. Last week I was in Melbourne, Australia at “Babble:on” a gathering of people around the “arts and faith” banner. It was an inspiring event with a day dedicated to each of education, ministry and artists. The inspiration for the event itself was the Blake Prize Touring Exhibition – thirty finalist works commenting on spirituality. The Blake has been operating since 1951 and is a significant event in the arts scene in Australia, even worldwide.

A work called “My Prayer is…” by Cath Braid, Rolla Khadduri and the women of Chiral in Pakistan, particularly inspired me. This was a board 119 x 187 cm (4’ x 6’ in) with several hundred cloth-covered buttons on it. (See the work on this video, 3.53 min in.) Each button had been hand-made and embroidered in Arabic script with the prayer of one of the contributing women.

Simple prayers apparently (my knowledge of Arabic is zilch) like “I pray that my country gets rid of terrorists”, “I pray that my daughter gets to go to school”, “I pray that the electricity problem gets resolved soon.”

The women behind the social enterprise enable local women to sustain traditional skills to break the cycle of poverty while still being able to maintain their family life.

I found this work moving in both its simplicity and back-story. I also saw the potential for making use of the art form in a worship event. Prayer-button making. Give people a small cardboard disk, a small piece of fabric a felt pen, and glue. Have them write their prayer on the fabric, cover the button (perhaps with the prayer on the inside for confidentiality?) then hang the buttons on a panel. Use as either a station or by people remaining in their seats/pews.

I would acknowledge the source of inspiration in a short sentence in the station or service notes, with a URL if possible. This helps to reinforce the arts/faith connection and lets people explore further if they are interested.

My friend Robyn Robertson has a “Prayer Cloak” she uses in a similar way. Robyn is a fabric artist. She creates wearable art. She made a large and beautiful white cloak. With the cloak she makes available cotton and needles as well as several sizeable boxes of small trinkets and a huge range of buttons.

People are invited to attach anything of their choosing as a symbol of their prayer, a commitment made, or whatever. People bring their own symbols as well. During services and at any other prayer event in the life of the church the cloak is available. Small groups will sit around it talking and praying and sewing… I once borrowed it as a station for my own worship event.

Over the last 7 years the cloak has become covered with people’s prayers and is so heavy and delicate as to be almost immoveable. It’s wonderful to be able to go to it and find symbols sewn on at previous significant occasions.

Inspiration… Art inspires worship.

Guerilla and transitional worship events also inspire worship. What is done in these events can often be brought into a community worship event in modified or reframed form. I was delighted and excited to see what Journey Church in Franklin, Tennessee did last week. They ran an event called “Space: a soul environment for prayer and calibration” that they described as a six-hour “interactive, stations-based, transitional worship space. People were invited to come and go as they pleased at this Tuesday night event, with sung worship provided between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m.

Stephen Proctor said, “… musical led worship by sons and daughters and our friend Daniel Bashta, except we all want that part to be like another station, another layer, not the focal point. A blend of community and transitional worship!”

I think this sort of extended worship event, open to the public, but in a regular worship space, is increasingly needed today. It caters to people who, for whatever reason, can’t or don’t want to come to something on a Sunday morning at a set time. Also people who find the usual church format of sung worship and preacher hard to cope with.

I ended my book with the hope that we would see this sort of worship event being offered more and more often at locations around the world. I hope Katie Strandlund or Stephen Proctor, or others involved at Journey will tell us about it in more detail soon.

Inspiration… Transitional worship inspires Community worship.

The month before Space, Shari Miller curated a beautiful worship space at a Methodist denominational conference in Iowa. Ted Lyddon Hatten introduced this to us in his inspiring and recent guest blog post.

Advocacy Day was about immigration issues. Shari curated a complete environment where everything from start to finish contributed to the experience. People were made to feel uncomfortable as they were stripped of their familiar forms of identification at the entrance, and forced to sign documents in a language they didn’t understand. New ID cards handed out carried the true stories of local people who had struggled with immigration issues. The art work and design had significant depth and made strong political comments in very subtle and easily overlooked ways. Each station was an art installation in itself that contributed to the overall installation and to the broader transitional/guerilla worship event. Wonderful stuff. So many of her ideas are readily transferable into community worship settings.

Inspiration… Transitional/Guerilla worship and art inspire community worship.

In the same way that art can feed installation-based worship, so installation-based worship can feed regular community worship. So don’t right this stuff off as something you could never do in your setting. Pick the eyes out of what others do, reframe it, recontextualise it, steal it, make it your own.

I quoted Jim Jarmusch’s Golden Rules of film making #5 in my book. Its worth repeating here as a final word of encouragement. (His rules 1 to 4 could also apply to worship curators.)

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery—celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean- Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from—it’s where you take them to.”

This ends my 12 week ramble through the book The Art of Curating Worship: Reshaping the role of worship leader.

My very grateful thanks to those who have inspired me with their work, and allowed me to share it with others.

I’m taking a break from regular blogging now. I want to concentrate my sparse spare time on writing and gathering materials for a book that builds on this one. I’m talking with a number of worship artists and curators about some of their specific works of worship.

I want to introduce a range of artists and curators, and present how and why they have curated particular worship events, with a lot of images, to inspire others. There is so much wonderful worship starting to be curated – from community to guerilla – but we need a lot more.

If you have curated one or more worship events that make good use of some of the principles in my book, or know of someone who has anywhere in the world, I’d love to hear from you.

Have fun curating!

(I would like to acknowledge the good humoured support of Tilley and Lucy in putting this blog together.)

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