1:00pm fridayMuslim Community Center of Greater Pittsburgh
233 Seaman Lane, Monroeville PA 15146
monroeville
For over a week, my attempts to get in touch with MCCGP (calls and a drive out to introduce myself in person), all land on days that the office is closed. Finally, I find an email address on the web and send a message—late the night before this intended visit. I receive the kindest reply from the secretary. Included: clarification on the fact that at this mosque, women use the same door as men, but head directly upstairs to the separate section. And an invitation to come early to meet him before prayer begins. (Unfortunately I am not able.)
This visit is resolution to the urgency I was feeling. Urgency because of this:
I could not make it to Eid-ul-fitr, which every year marks the end of Ramadan. I will make up for this with not one, but two visits to Jummah at two different Pgh-area mosques. (At many instances in my life when I've voiced self-defined perimeters that border on penance, such as this, those around me have asked if I was raised Catholic. Answer: no. A complicated story for another time.) Anyway, these two visits to mosques are deliberately timed to serve as my own personal observation of the tenth anniversary of 9/11. I looked at other events that other places of worship are holding for this purpose—churches and such with special 9/11-themed services—but decided that this would be most meaningful to me.
I assume this to be my own quiet acknowledgment of 9/11, especially this week, with the date yet nine days off. There is next week's Jummah to occur on 9/9 just before the actual anniversary, so I do not expect there to be any mention of the remembered event in the homily today. But I welcome the unexpected. Today's message, delivered calmly throughout, is pretty remarkably empowering.
There are thirteen women in the designated balcony, including me and not including the two babies. We sit on the floor as I have done at Hindu and Buddhist services. Wrapped in fabric, all of us. (My dress now-a-days seems to blend in best with worshipers at Hindu or Muslim services.) The Imam addresses the men on the floor below us. To us, he speaks via live video on the flat screen TV monitor mounted high on the wall. He says:
Immediately after Sept 11, 2001, we, no doubt, had difficulty defining ourselves as Muslim and had difficulty defining Islam for ourselves, as well.
Over the next nine days, there will be a lot of questioning again.
--We could become frustrated and doubt ourselves. Or we could see this as an opportunity to tell others about our belief as we practice it, in order to clear misunderstandings.
--It is through our own acts that we are held accountable for creating our own identity.
--The fact is, that in order for justice to be achieved, and voices to be heard, minorities must be able to depend on and trust the majority to protect and defend minorities, to a certain extent. He says something that really sticks with me because it surprises me: We know that America is not an Islamophobic country.
And he says that going to pray at a mosque is one hundred times better than praying alone. Why? ...in such an act of introversion? This is a question that I have come to on my own several times during this project.
I wish I could ask everyone who attends services of all types: Is it easier or harder to pray, when one is alone or in a group?
So far I know for certain of only one faith that acknowledges full legitimacy of practicing in solitude: Hindus. Perhaps also Buddhists? Correct me if needed. And Wiccas and Pagans hold very few gatherings. That is the official name of their services, BTW: "gatherings."
Back to our questioning: ...to pray at a mosque is 100x better than praying alone.Of course, "better" does not necessarily mean "easier."
Does a religious leader simply desire a full house? Or is he is referring to the importance of solidarity and community even in the case of defining individual identity?Does this also partly reveal the value (necessity) of participating in a larger artistic community as an artist, not just through artwork, but socially? As an artist, does it help to be an active part of an artistic community when attempting to discover personal artistic identity, define and establish our own voice? And later to grow and evolve? And is this why I returned for another degree, knowing I could not grow on my own, without that specific community? And is this why, when I loose my community of artists (through a move, the end of a residency, or whatnot) I don't feel like working until the new one is established?
Even though I can only make art when I'm completely alone.
11:00am sunday
Ethnan Temple Seventh-day Adventist Church1205 Wood St, Wilkinsburg PA 15221
wilkinsburg
I have not been to Wilkinsburg for a visit in a while, and the idea of book-ending last Saturday's service with another (the only other) Pittsburgh area Seventh-day Adventist church makes sense to me.
I am not feeling great this Saturday morning. At first I am sure it is just tiredness. Ninteen visits in 31 days, and keeping up with sewing and writing between each, amidst the rest of life's obligations... will do that. But shortly after the start of this service, I recognize that I'm actually fighting the beginning of a migraine. So my memory of this visit is a bit clouded.
I remember three white hats in front of me. I remember drawing on the back of my printed driving directions because I forgot to bring clean gessoed paper.
I remember the pastor speaking a lot about finances.
The importance of having a mentor.
I am welcomed warmly during visitor greeting time.This is a call and response service.
A girl of 4 or 5 years plays with dolls in the pew in front of me. One of the dolls has a dress on that is a miniature match of the girl's. Lined white netting dotted with lavender flowers.
Because of my migraine, I need to leave three minutes before we are officially let go... slipping out quickly is pretty important as the edge of nausea creeps in. I drive home very, very carefully...
11:30am friday
Saint Joseph Parish4712 Liberty Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15224
bloomfield
It recently occurred to me that I have not been to a place of worship in Bloomfield. Bloomfield cannot be skipped. A quiet weekday morning Mass in this historic landmark on the main thoroughfare seems right.
Often I am the only _______(something) at these services.
The only Caucasian. The only non-Jewish in the synagogue. The only one wearing long sleeves in 87 degree weather. Today I am the only worshiper younger than age 60.
The sanctuary's interior is cake-white with gilded trim. Today, the homily mentions the universal desire to be holy. That marriage should not be entered for reasons of lust alone. (Though I must interject that a little of that in the mix can't hurt.)
The woman in front of me fingers green rosary beads. I had been wanting to include the notion of the rosary in this project, but had not encountered a reason until now. Idea for this post-service addition to my dress is set.
Every once in a while I prefer a service during which no one speaks to me, and today it suites me. I stay a bit and draw before heading home.
7:00pm wednesday
Zen Group of Pittsburgh
Korean Zen (Mahayana)4836 Ellsworth Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15213
shadyside
Tonight's practice is a part of the Kwan Um School of Zen, specifically following the teachings of Zen Master Seung Sahn (1927-?2006), who arrived and established himself in Providence, RI in the 1970's.
The Zen Group of Pittsburgh meets in the Friends Meeting House, the same location as my 23rd visit. I am a few minutes late and then have a little trouble finding the room (had to follow the sign that said "restroom"). Excuses aside I feel really, really terrible that I enter mid-chant—into a room of only two others, and I still now feel awful about this. But I'm not made to feel badly by Will nor by William. And maybe this is partly why: It is part of Buddhist philosophy that things are not inherently good nor inherently bad; they just are.
Have I mentioned that I used to work in a small print shop when I lived in Portland, Oregon? Well, I did, and whenever something happened to go terribly wrong... 1000's of copies terribly wrong, (which can be terribly common in any print shop), our press operator would amble slowly into the front room and calmly recite this mantra: Things are not inherently good nor inherently bad; they just are.
Will patiently helps me to find my place in the prayer book, and chanting continues. Some prayers are in English. Later I learn that students are discouraged from looking up the meaning of non-English chants. As I understand, chanting is meant to clear the mind, not necessarily contribute to the day's mental input, so a full grasp of meaning can actually be less productive. This brings to my mind two things:
1) the pundigee's Sanskrit that my husband repeats during pujas, for which my husband and many devoted Hindus know no meaning.
2) a quote by Salvador Dali, recently emailed to me by a former student: "Just because I do not know the meaning of the images I paint does not mean they don't have meaning."
We then move on to the meditation portion of the night. I want to mention that at this point in my story, Will has not seen my blog—he does not have the address, nor does he know my last name; he could not have looked it up. Will talks a bit about some principles of Buddhist meditation. He begins by saying, "Buddhism, not unlike art, [and not unlike other beliefs,] seeks to answer the questions we have about life, such as: what is life? And how are we to live it? What does it mean to be human?" Umm, look here if you have not yet: (last 4 lines of second to last paragraph). Pretty amazing, huh?
In my meditation instruction for tonight, there is particular emphasis on remaining physically still and specific suggestions of what to do if I am unable. Unlike my first session of meditation exactly a week ago (visit 76), this is not audibly led by someone else in the room; instead it is self-driven. I am given instruction on repeating a mantra in conjunction with the timing of the breath. And that the breath should remain relatively natural, with special attention to full and long exhales. And I learn something else: This is compatible with and reflects the idea that meditation is more about letting go than creating focus.
After meditation, a letter from one of Zen Master Seung Sahn's books is read aloud. I learn about Kong-ans. Kong-ans are specific to Zen Buddhism, but are not necessarily included in all branches of Zen. As I understand from the quick conversations that our time allows, a Kong-an is a private interview during which a Zen Master raises a seemingly unanswerable question to the student. (Such as: "What is the sound of one hand clapping?" Or: "Where did you come from?," whereas the names of geographical places are not acceptable.) It's the Master's goal to know his pupils well enough to be able to come up with the question and the phrasing of this question that will allow his pupil to achieve a new way of thinking, expand his/her current capacity of thinking, break out of concrete thought.
If it interests you, go back and read that last paragraph, only this time read it as if I am describing my relationship, as a grad student, to my mentors, professors, and critics, when I was obtaining my masters of fine art. Because it does describe this. Though, of course, with all due respect, there's a huge difference between my mentors in grad school and a Zen Master. ...this also describes how I approach critiques with my undergrad students, hoping to help them experience personal breakthroughs in their artwork.
Throughout the evening is an emphasis on achieving a state of "not knowing." Not just saying that I don't know what will happen; that I don't know everything—but more of a state of being "unknowing." Personally, I interpret this (not knowing if it is fully correct) as adopting a sense of wonder, perhaps? A faithful embrace of the unknown? It's the best I can do at such a short introduction to the idea. Makes me want to learn more.
11:30am monday
St Nicholas Croation Catholic Parish
Maxo (Maksimilijan) Vanka's murals24 Maryland Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15209
millvale
Nearly two years ago, another artist I know visited this Millvale church for a tour of Maxo Vanko's murals. This was before gatherings was even an blip in my mind. She highly recommended. "The murals, the tour was so great, perfect—everything about it. Even the fact that the tour guide's name is Mary."
I had been saving this visit, trying to maintain an even sprinkling of landmark-Pgh-classic-visits in the flow. Finally, I give Mary a call. I ask if it's possible to have a tour after a Wednesday morning Mass. She tactfully suggests that I sign up for a Monday instead. Though Mass is not offered on Mondays, she hopes that this may be alright with me. "See, on Monday," she explains, "I have already agreed to give a tour to a photographer from out of state. I'm 83, you know, and it would just be easier for me that way." Agreed.
I arrive. The photographer is not present. Instead two other tour-goers. And also Mary, of course, but only for a short while. Between our phone conversation a couple of weeks ago and this morning, Mary has officially retired from her tour guide duties. We listen to her give final advice to Bill, who is to permanently take her place, and we watch her ceremoniously hand the church keys to him.
Bill grew up in Millvale. After obtaining a degree in art history, he lived for 30 years in New York City, and gave tours at the Frick Collection there, before recently settling once again in the Pittsburgh area. (Which is, ironically, the Frick family's homeland as well.) Today he is providing his very first tour of the Maxo Vanko murals at St. Nicholas Croatian Catholic Church.
These murals were not created simply for the sake of beauty in worship, and they go beyond the usual narratives and ideas of Catholicism. Vanka, who was born in 1889 and immigrated to Pittsburgh as a result of this commission, began the murals in 1937 and then returned again to the project in 1941.
The parish priest at the time gave Vanka very specific perimeters to follow regarding the painting behind the main front alter, but beyond that, the design and content of those on the remaining three walls and ceiling were left completely up to his artistic discretion.
Though they do address religious content, Vanka's 1937 murals are very much about the immigration experience, specifically that of Croatians. The paintings executed in 1941 directly address the atrocities of WWII—gas masks, death, religious persecution and all. Want to know more? Oh, too many words can ruin things sometimes. You'll just have to see for yourself.
8pm - 12:45am sunday evening
Hindu Jain Temple of Pittsburgh(Shri Krishna Janmashtami: celebration of
Krishna's birth)
615 Illini Dr, Monroeville PA 15146
monroeville
In Novermber 2010, I gave an informal talk about my artwork (including this project) to a group of University of Pittsburgh art students. Present at the talk was Yog, who subsequently signed up for my spring 2011 foundation design class. Yog, who is on his way to becoming an amazing illustrator and graphic designer via his recent admission into SVA in NYC (yeah), ...and whose father is a priest at this temple, invited me to Shri Krishna Janmashtami. Thank you, Yog.
I arrive, Indian standard time (fashionably late). Others are also just arriving and yet others are already leaving for the night. But there are enough worshipers seated across the wide room to necessitate a lengthy visual hunt for Yog. No worries. I have never felt awkwardly alone at Indian-cultural events. Never excluded. Before long, an elderly woman named Indhira approaches me. She has come from India to visit her daughter, to whom she introduces me. She asks me what country I am from, I'm assuming because of my dress. It almost makes up for 40 years of wishing that I could claim a non-American ethnicity and had learned a second language at birth. Just a life-long jealousy of those who can. Maybe in my next life.
Finally, I spot Yog across the room. Though I wish Indihra could join us, I worry that the awkward zig-zag trek through a sea of seated worshipers would be hard on her, so I excuse myself as politely as I can manage, and join Yog.Some of the things Yog and I talk about:
Obviously the temple serves both Jains and Hindus. Yog's family is Hindu. Though there is some commonality between the two beliefs regarding larger theories and concepts, Jainism is not a branch of Hinduism, (nor the reverse) and a distinction between the two beliefs is made within the temple. I look into this later at home. If taken in detail, the differences between Hindu and Jain beliefs are great in some respects. For example, they do not share scripture. And to Jains, the origin of the world is eternal; to Hindus it is a creation. Additionally, Yog explains that there is a specific Jain alter, and that Jains don't believe in a god(s), while the Hinduism is centered around three main Gods and their avatars. Yet tonight, and assumingly on many other nights, in this temple the two groups are interspersed throughout the same room. Yog says: "Hindus and Jains get along. We share the same culture."
Beyond this, I learn:
This temple is more festive, colorful and less orthodox than the SV Temple (my 14th visit). Or simply put, here there's a little more emphasis on general Indian culture as opposed to religious culture. Until the rituals at midnight, the observance comes mostly in the form of music, with different groups of musicians taking the stage. Including Yog's father. Later a priest offers a homily, some portions in Hindi and some in Sanskrit.
Though it's optional, Yog fasted today, eating only fruits and drinking water. So, in answer to my question raised during my 68th visit (5th paragraph), we can add Hindus to my list of religious fasting in August (+ Eastern Orthodox Christians and Muslims.) Others?
for more about Krishna: see this entry, 48th visit...
It is well after midnight when I leave. The night owl in me does not mind, though it has been a while since I've followed a late schedule, so I am a little out of practice. "Is this the longest service you've been to?" Yog asks at two separate instances. Maybe. Or maybe tied with my Passover Seder, 52nd visit (for which unfortunately I could not stay the full length—so I guess it doesn't count)... Longest? We shall see. 21 more chances left.
11:15am saturday
Hillcrest Seventh-day Adventist
2340 Wylie Ave, Pittsburgh PA 15219
hill district, middle hill
Often others ask how I decide which places of worship to visit.
Some I attend because of their local prominence. Some because of suggestions from congregants I meet...
But a lot of it has to do with maintaining balance:
To balance grand-scale architecture and congregations with visits to the intimate. Familiar neighborhoods with those that I seldom pass through.
Beliefs that I know very little about with those of which I already have some understanding.
This, my 78th visit:
is intimate in congregation and building-size, in a neighborhood I tend to only pass through for the purposes of this project.
This is my first encounter with Seventh-Day Adventists. Besides the fact that here the Sabbath is observed (and services are held) on Saturdays—hence the name "Seventh-Day,"—and besides an emphasis on the second coming—hence the name "Adventist"—to me the teaching is familiar.
I am greeted warmly. Almost all of the speaking, including the sermon is delivered by Elder Mamie Clemons. Elder: yes; but firecracker, too. While she addresses us, from my place in my pew, I take in my surroundings and think about ideas for the drawing I'll do during the service. Until I hear this: "I'm not going to name names, but you know who you are. You'd better put that away and listen to what I have to say." She continues preaching for a minute, but then, again: "I don't know what you are looking at, but you'd better put that away. I will wait. You know who you are." She's actually not talking about me; I have not even unpacked my pencil and paper, am sitting attentively throughout. But needless to say, I don't draw during this visit.
What else:
a drum set and electric organ.
hymns.
a fabulous lavender, sequenced jacket.
mention of hope for a safe school year, free of gun violence.
I concur.
More warm wishes from those around me as I exit and head home.
