In this erstwhile church,
now a woman’s home,
framed images transcend the ancient myth
that gave birth to this scared structure:
A painting of a nude sprawled on a bed,
she’s a redhead;
An acrylic rendering of a master’s sketch
distorted by an inferior hand.
Christ on a cross –
an image of an image
that challenges perception
and calls to mind
the ripples of a stone
that fell two thousand years ago;
And Eve supports Adam
as they shuffle from Paradise –
a tale of exile or liberation
that encapsulates
this fallen church.
Kenneth D. Reimer
Not too long ago, I visited an erstwhile church that had been converted into a home. I thought it an interesting idea, living in a church, and before arriving, my imagination spun with ideas regarding the conversion of such a lofty space. Once I arrived, however, it wasn’t the renovation that captured my interest; rather, it was the artwork that the owner used to decorate that compelled my interest.
The most arresting, and initially most shocking painting was large nude of a woman sprawling spread-eagle upon a bed. My first thought as, “Okay, this is definitely not a church anymore,” and then it occurred to me that perhaps such a truthful portrayal of the human form should be an element of every church. Realistically, though, hanging that painting was intended as a declaration of the new tenant’s denial of the old tenant’s neo-puritan philosophies.
The second painting was a curiosity. A modern artist had taken a sketch of Christ on the cross, initially drawn by one of the old masters, and rendered it in acrylic. It was an image of an image—in which the details seemed somehow incorrect, as if the truth had been lost in translation. I thought it a fitting work of art for a building that had also been rendered into a different meaning.
No doubt, the third painting was also intended to reflect the conversion of that space: Adam and Eve leaned upon one another as they shuffled from Paradise into reality—just as the old church had left the sheltering dominion of its previous master.