11:00am sunday
New Testament Missionary Baptist Church
1036 Penn Ave, Wilkinsburg PA 15221
wilkinsburgAs I mentioned in the previous post, this little church has been drawing my eye for some time. I pass it at the start of my weekly drive to Baltimore every Tuesday morning. No website, no answering machine; so I just show up according to the time posted on the signage. One room. Or so the building appears, with the front door opening directly into the sanctuary. Four pairs of shoulders fit to the right of the center aisle and four more to the left, width-wise in the wooden pews. Choir crowds behind the pulpit. There is no where for your mind to be except here, present.Once when telling a group of art students about this project, I received a remarkable reaction from one of my listeners. It was as if there was something terribly frightening in the process of imagining herself doing what I'm doing here in gatherings. She spoke very slowly, loudly, and deliberately: "That would be a really, really intense project." Admittedly I was anxious before my first few visits, but not in they way her reaction implied. Maybe she had a bad experience with religion. Maybe doing unfamiliar things in unfamiliar surroundings really frightens her. Maybe I'll never know. But her reaction stays with me. And I am left wondering from time to time if there something I'm unaware of, regarding this project, something really intense slated to happen during one of my visits. This probably is not exactly what she had in mind, but this visit does have an intensity. Somewhat like the realness of Baltimore, that I miss after having moved away. I have been the sole Caucasian attendee at services many, many times over and this began as such. A few minutes after I arrive, the only other white visitor chooses a spot directly next to me. I learn his name is David, and he visits so often that he is referred to as family—is welcomed as such by a woman speaking from the pulpit. He is thin, tall, at least 83 and nimble. Vocal during call and response. Heart-felt: "Oh, my father in heaven, glory be." The Bible he carries with him is beautiful. Titled in the most Gothic of all lettering, tattered leather cover, and a much, much thicker spine than I've ever seen in any edition. I learn that his Seventh-day Baptist church meets on Saturdays, so he often comes here on Sundays. Today the congregation here is celebrating the end of Black History Month. Biographies delivered by members of the congregation, a planned program of speakers on Frederick Douglass, Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr., Barack Obama. It was a white person who started the underground railroad, did you know? During the time of slavery, you see, there were some white people who were kind, [the speaker relays] and we need to thank them. Following, a high-school-aged, young adult female asks to speak: It was not too long ago that we were not allowed to even walk in front of schools for white children. Now we sit in the same rooms to learn. That was a fight. People my age are not doing what we can with that privilege. My own classmates get mad and they refuse to do their homework, refuse to write their papers because they say their teachers are prejudiced. Well, what is that? That is just one more paper that that teacher does not have to grade. (reaction of support from congregation) That is not making any point, that is not achieving anything, that is holding ourselves back. Offering is collected. More song. Few more words. I put on my coat. The woman in front of me turns to look me in the eye, grasp my hand to shake it firmly. It's funny, the places I feel pulled toward within this city.
8:30am sundayCovenant Church of Pittsburgh2110 Andrew Drive, Wilkinsburg PA 15221wilkinsburg
One Friday this past fall, I had almost attended a 6am prayer service here. I had gone as far as contacting the administration and receiving their welcome, but in the end my schedule dictated otherwise. I have had my eye on the little yellow missionary baptist church in Wilkinsburg for some time now (see next post) and that one felt right for this Sunday. Ends up that this one is not far from that one; their services an easy time-spread... and so align my stars for today.This church has a huge congregation. Officials directing the arriving traffic. Security guards at the entrance. A purple-feathered hat a few rows in front of me, to the right. Royal blue plumes front left. The woman directly to my left has brought fashion magazines and catalogs, for multitasking, but I guess the sermon holds her attention after all. Everyone has brought their own Bible. TV cameras and their operators are perched throughout. One in the center of the sanctuary on a platform. One on stilts front right. I don't think I ended up on the overhead screens that day, but lots of other people did.
Calls for a volunteer to assist in acting out Bible passages.
A reminder that you have to believe before you can see. (...and the same goes for artwork-ideas, before you can see them come to fruition, right?)
I had time to run to the grocery (next door) between this and my second church visit of the day. Eggplant and broccoli. Someone from this service recognized me there. I helped her find the strawberries.
11:30 sunday
St John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic Church
109 South 7th St, Pittsburgh PA 15203
south side flats
...my personal commemoration of Andy Warhol's life (d. Feb 22, 1987) via attending his church... it is said that the repetition of the iconic screen in the Catholic church that his family attended during his youth, influenced the repetition of celebrity-icon faces in his work. (not the church pictured in this post)
More than once, well-wishers have referred to gatherings as a tour. Their kindness is valuable to me, but to be honest, the word "tour" has never seemed right... maybe because of the amount of time I spend thinking about the project when I'm not actively doing it, or the passivity the word implies. Today I have not stopped thinking about gatherings, nor have I approached it passively; but, today is the day that "tour" might be the right way to describe this Sunday's visits. What started out as 2 visits, became 3—my car following behind Father Thomas Schaefer's, from his first to his second Parish; from my first to my second visit. ...leaving yet enough time for the third (which had been originally planned as my second). And I had the pleasure of crossing my favorite bridge twice: the Hot Metal.
Today, all three of my visits are to St. John's,
and all three are Byzantine style Catholic churches:
distinctively-shaped domes
often employ the Greek cross plan
combining elements from Greek, Roman, and Islamic styles
origin: Istanbul, Turkey, formerly Byzantium
1st of my 3 visits on 2-20-11
St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Church, Jane Street, south side.
Father Thomas Schaefer.
It began with a desire to personally commemorate Andy Warhol's life (d. Feb 22, 1987), by attending his church. A member of the Door of Hope (21st visit) had told me that this was his family's choice place of worship. But I come to question this after arriving, when I learn that this particular congregation had moved to this building in 1958, well after Andy had moved to NYC. Could she have been referring to the building only, and not the people? Commonly, things are complicated that way in this city. Regardless, it still doesn't seem right to me. Some art historians and critics claim that a visit to Andy Warhol's church leaves one to wonder if he was not influenced by its interior: the repetition of portrait-like images of saints in its elaborate icon screen echos the image-repetition in Warhol's screen print portraits of celebrities. But here this notion is not as apparent as I had expected.
No loss, of course. The building is beautiful and I enjoy the quiet time. (Yes: that is a non-electric chandelier pictured above, fire-powered with real candles—the only known to still be in use in a Byzantine Church in the US.) After the service a young worshiper and her mother asks about my dress. Father Schaefer overhears me telling them about gatherings, just chatting about the project in general, mentioning nothing about my quest for the Warhol church. He offers: "Well if you'd like a double header, you could follow me to my next gig. Just five minutes away." He continues, "It's the church where Andy Warhol was baptised." Bingo. Wrong church, right priest. And I am on my way.
2nd of my 3 visits on 2-20-11
St. John Chrysostom Byzantine Catholic Church, Saline Street, greenfield.
Father Thomas Schaefer.
This church is well worth a gander. And to me, the experience of service, also. Restoration completed in the 1990's renewed quality, but did not touch character, expression of ethnicity. The colors used in the interior iconic paintings are exquisite. Rich. Full. Unapologetically chromatic, never brash. I usually need the nostalgic crackle of old paint in these churches to win me over. Here not so. Fresh is done so well, that I didn't miss antiquity one bit. Father Schaefer explained that it's the largest iconic screen in the city. I'd think in several cities. Maybe he did say the US. Don't know. I do know that he said the Warhol family did not claim this as "their" church. However, Andy is buried in the associated cemetery. I didn't question further. He was getting ready to lead mass, and sometimes I prefer mysteries to remain mysteries.
3rd of my 3 visits on 2-20-11
St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic Church, S. 7th Street, south side flats.
Father John (Ivan) Chirovsky.Another beautiful church. Two small children tire of sitting quietly and begin to dart about, parents supervising. A joyful focus I am always thankful for. In so many ways the Catholic services recall the Jewish services in my experience. (see esp. 6th visit)
In the basement of this church, parishioners meet every week to make perogies, sold to local businesses and families to raise funds for the church. Rumor is that they are the best you can buy.
All 3 visits:
My sister explained to me a few months ago that the scripture and homily content are pre-determined each Sunday for all Catholic churches throughout... the world(?).
So, all scriptures read today mentioned Seraphim and Cherubim, creatures that I first came to know through Madeleine L'Engle books from my childhood (see last week's post, 36th visit). At least 2 of today's 3 churches had painted images of these creatures in their interior. And at least one of my former students at MICA had addressed these as characters in her drawings, also in response to L'Engle's books. The homily at today's 3rd visit concerns the prodigal son. I had a chance for a Roshomon experience (3 takes) of this parable, except Father Schaefer explained to his parishes that he had mistakenly prepared the incorrect content for his homily. To be human, rooted, grounded. (Humus = Latin for earth, as I am reminded today by Father John Chirovsky, during this Sunday's final visit.)
10:30am sunday
St. John Chrysostom Byzantine Catholic Church
506 Saline St, Pittsburgh PA 15207
greenfield
This church is well worth a gander. And to me, the experience of service, also. Restoration completed in the 1990's renewed quality, but did not touch character, expression of ethnicity. The colors used in the interior iconic paintings are exquisite. Rich. Full. Unapologetically chromatic. I usually need the crackled-surface of old paint in these churches to win me over. Here not so. Fresh is done so well, that I didn't miss antiquity one bit.
Father Schaefer explains that this is the largest iconic screen in the city. I count the number of painted faces that peer down at worshipers: 177. I'd think it's the largest in several cities. Maybe he did say the largest in the US. Could have; I am tired. I do know that he said the Warhol family did not claim this as "their" church despite Andy's baptism here. They did attend for a period of time, however, and Andy is buried in the associated cemetery. I didn't question further; I could tell his mind was on the fact that he needed to start mass.
8:30am sunday
St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Church
1720 Jane Street, Pittsburgh PA 15203
south side flats
Please see post: thirty-ninth visit Feb 20 2011 for more
It began with a desire to personally commemorate Andy Warhol's life (d. Feb 22, 1987), by attending his church. A member of the Door of Hope (21st visit) had told me that this was his family's choice place of worship. But I come to question this after arriving, when I learn that this particular congregation had moved to this building in 1958, well after Andy had moved to NYC. Could she have been referring to the building only, and not the people? Commonly, things are complicated that way in this city. Regardless, it still doesn't seem right to me. Some art historians and critics claim that a visit to Andy Warhol's church leaves one to wonder if he was not influenced by its interior: the repetition of portrait-like images of saints in its elaborate icon screen echos the image-repetition in Warhol's screen print portraits of celebrities. But here this notion is not as apparent as I had expected.
No loss, of course. The building is beautiful and I enjoy the quiet time. (Yes: that is a non-electric chandelier pictured above, fire-powered with real candles—the only known to still be in use in a Byzantine Church in the US.) After the service a young worshiper and her mother asks about my dress. Father Schaefer overhears me telling them about gatherings, just chatting about the project in general, mentioning nothing about my quest for the Warhol church. He offers: "Well if you'd like a double header, you could follow me to my next gig. Just five minutes away." He continues, "It's the church where Andy Warhol was baptised." Bingo. Wrong church, right priest. And I am on my way.
10:30am sunday
Pittsburgh Mennonite Church
2018 South Braddock Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15218
swissvale
I had been looking forward to visiting a Mennonite Church. Often, when my mom mentions that she grew up Church of the Brethren (see 1st visit), she follows that statement with: "Are you familiar with that denomination? It's a little similar to Mennonite."
I don't know what exactly I was expecting... but I was expecting something quite different from the Protestant church in which I was raised in. This church is not so different. I think "Old Order" was what my mother was referring to maybe, and this order was not such. Or maybe things just can't be summed up so simply, because congregations (even within the same denomination) move, evolve, at different paces from one another.
I found this church to be one of the warmest congregations. Before my visit, Pastor Bender left a voice message in response to my initial "warning" call. He would not be preaching that day, and wanted me to know, but wanted to extend a welcome non-the-less.
During the celebration and concerns portion of the service, I introduced myself and mentioned the gist of this project. Immediately at worship's end, the first of several remarkable conversations begin. Aaron I think it was? Just wanting to know more about gatherings. Supportive curiosity. Thank you. I also met Candice. Scott stopped to tell me that he knows of a church in Santa Cruz where the relationship of the ritual of attending service and the ritual of making art is compared directly, united, literally, as a part of their mission, it sounds. He is friends with Pastor Dan there. He asked if I knew of Madeleine L'Engle's book that addresses this same topic. (no, but I did order it, and it's next to my computer as I type this, waiting for a rainy day ...titled "Walking on Water") Anticipation. L'Engle's books were absolutely among my favorite in my childhood. And finally, I met Karin (Karen?) who has been a member for 29 years.
And I received sincere, kind emails from members of this church, the week following this visit. Not to be forgotten.
10:30am (super bowl) sunday
Stanton Heights United Methodist Church
4721 Stanton Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15201
stanton heights
"It's that door. You're right. Go ahead and just use the front door, that one, right there." Observers kindly called to me from the side street. I am hesitating, not necessarily because I am not sure which door to use, but because the door is smeared with blood. The bloody area, slightly higher than my face, amounts to not more than 12 by 12 inches, but that's big enough to render the action unmistakably deliberate. Prints reveal that it was applied directly by a human hand. Still bright red. This church is not in a notably heavy-crime neighborhood.
I take pride in my serendipitous tendency to show up at worship places that happen to be celebrating an anniversary of some sort, a holiday or birthday specific to the congregation, so that I'm able to stay for an after-service celebration, allowing for a rich experience and more time for interaction with congregants. But this time, I serendipitously picked the morning that this church's door happened to be smeared with blood.
I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with Passover. The pastor mentions the blood-smeared door more than once during the service, but you know as much as she and I do at this moment. The police arrive just as I leave the service.
The service: The pastor is the organist. And the electric keyboardist. 24 worshipers in the sanctuary. I recall an acquaintance of mine commenting once on her visit to a church. She is Jewish. She said, "To follow Judaism you have to learn a whole other alphabet and language. Whereas, in the Baptist church I visited, most of the hymns consisted of a repetition of five words. There is something to be said about accessibility." At Stanton Heights, there are hymnals, but they are not opened. Hymns' vocals are led and joined-in. Easy.
It is Super Bowl Sunday. The Steelers are mentioned three times during the service, and are thought of, I'm certain, each and every one of the 34 times that the word "victory" is spoken or sung. Not serendipitously. When I first moved to Pittsburgh one and a half years ago, trying to hone in on the inner workings of this city, questioning the artists' role here, I remember seeing this headline on the front of a local publication: "Pittsburgh: Family, Faith and Football." How do I connect to this? ...and how do I connect to this as an artist? And so gatherings climbs into my studio. (Well, it's not exactly as simple as that, but that's part of it.)
I'm not the only one raising this question. The art exhibition "Whatever It Takes: Steelers Fan Collections, Rituals, and Obsessions," (CMU's Miller Gallery) was slated to close on Jan 30th. See, artists and curators don't always have the 2011 Super Bowl date (Feb 6th) ingrained in our minds, let alone on our calenders at all. But spontaneity can make up for it. The show has been extended a week, and closes today with a Super Bowl party/reception, sponsored by Iron City Brewery. "What the The New York Times describes as 'the Steelers at the intersection of Iron City Beer and Art Basel.'" Just like the traffic intersections here in Pittsburgh: five-spoked and unmarked, tripping me up whenever I'm trying to drive somewhere in a hurry—I'm still trying to figure this out. How do artist's connect to their audience here? Sometimes, that's what art is for: figuring things out. I thank those who are open to my endeavors.
Oh, and here's an update on the running count of
worshipers spotted wearing Steelers garb while worshiping:8 worshipers in blackandyellowblackandyellowblackandyellow
2 worshipers carrying terrible towels
(10 out of the 24 in attendance)
Running Total for the project: 26 (to date)
