Each year, no matter what church I've built, no matter where I take it to, you always end up getting the same set of feelings.
When you take it into a place, often times, the lights are off. No one has had the chance to get things setup so there are very few people around. Their is this quiet sense that lasts well after the project has been set up and the lights are turned on. For a few moments it's just you, the building you are visiting and the project itself. Words cannot fully describe the feelings that you have as you just slowly wait for the people to show up. But during that wait, you look around as everyone else will. Trying to see as much as you can from inside the windows. Every detail that was put into this massive creation of Lego brick. The people are what stand out the most. All sitting in their seats, Fr. Emmit (an on going joke) standing up front, delivering his homily. A clock on the wall that marks the time. A single moment of parish life frozen in time. The eyes wander the walls. They can see that somethings are not perfect. A part out of place, a brick not lined up correctly. The builder is probably a bit more nit picky than he should be. Because in the end imperfection is what gives the builder his creativity. Even the best parishes have a few minor blemishes with in the bricks. It adds that sense of realism to the work.
Such an odd feeling to have when you are sitting alone marveling at the work that was done. As the people start coming into see for themselves what has been bragged about endlessly, it hits you... the work you are in amazement over, is the work of your own two hands. God has given you an amazing talent. This is how you have put that talent to use.
By now the people are in full force. Word has gotten out that this project is indeed something that has to be seen with thy own two eyes. It's an honest toss up who is more excited. The kids or the parents who have been dragged over to see this creation. It's also a toss up who asks the more difficult questions. Even 9 and ten year-olds can pull off some of the hardest questions that.
Their is a feeling that is hard to put into words when you sit off to the side and let people explore your work. More so if these are people who know how you do things. The ones who have seen your projects year after year. Some of them will tell you out right that you have "out done yourself". That's the kind of acceptance that can make even the most vile of days seem worth it.
At some point the show must end for this location. The people are gone. The project is loaded back up into the van waiting for the next site. But their really isn't a weight of sadness. Rather the feeling is more like you've fulfilled your dream. All that remains is waiting for the next showing. Then the process gets to start all over again. What is nice though, is that this process doesn't get old. Even for the places that have seen the work over the years. And that makes it all worth while.
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3 comments:
Thats some good writing. Feels like I'm there with you. (Not to mention the content)
Cheers.
-Dave
Yeah.. this was one of the first times I attempted to explore some of the stuff that goes into the LCP. I recall one of my first major showings I did. I had that feeling as I was looking into the work. I was just in total awe of what had had been built. Like I was a little kid seeing some of the giant Lego creations at the mall. That hit me when I snapped back to reality that the work was my own.
I just set up the project at the first site of the season today. And that's the feeling I get every time I do one of these things.
-JM
Yes, your writing sounds like a New York Times Entertainment write-up about the one very lucky craftsman who gets recognition that day (although I don't remember ever happening across a Times article about pious art).
And since when have they had Lego clocks? Was it a foreign add-in, or did I miss a set?
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