December 4th, 2024
When My Soul Is Shy by Casey Murano.
I walk into the gallery, amazed by what can be created when we care for the fragments: The street artist Swoon cuts intricate portraits on paper to paste on reclaimed doors throughout the city. Nicola López pieces together a nest of architectural-inspired fodder that gives form to less visible social structures. Julie Mehretu makes massive paintings that layer systems of information in abstract marks. These and other artists were featured in the exhibition Positive Fragmentation, which, according to the exhibition text, features artists who “question the status quo and suggest new perspectives. For some, the result is enough: pulling apart images and ideas exposes what lies beneath or heralds the value of each part. Other artists assemble fragments to create a new whole defined by its components” (National Museum of Women in the Arts).
Seeing this exhibition reflected back to me that fragmentation has been a recurring theme in my work, too. I tear books apart, with the intention of cutting the pages into different shapes to draw on—in the middle of the process I note with surprise, “Wow, that pageless book spine is actually quite beautiful.” So I take a detour to mount the covers on panels like paintings. More than once I’ve gotten distracted by packing peanuts as a potential art material when I was in the middle of trying to frame a painting. It’s through this breaking things down and listening to the stories of small pieces that I encounter new pathways of creative potential.
This delight in engaging with the supposedly discardable translates to my cooking style, too, when I’m working with produce from our garden to feed the hungry participants who stay with us for service retreats. Like Jesus wondering how to feed four thousand people, the process of working with fragments begins with an inventory of what we have: some loaves of bread and a few fish. Or in my case, a lot of bruised apples. Then there’s a period of active waiting as the project takes shape: collecting wisdom and resources, perhaps gathering bread with the disciples, or finding a recipe that incorporates a lot of fruit. With gratitude and the Holy Spirit’s blessing, we start breaking the bread, or furiously chopping the apples into slices until our hands are tired. And then we share a meal, an artwork, which might take the form of apple spiced oatmeal for breakfast, warm out of the oven.
Sometimes it’s figuring out how to feed a crowd. Other times it’s finding a purpose for the abandoned leftovers or making art with packing materials. In any case, “Waiting for the Lord” is recognizing the creative potential of what is here and now. When I start with what I have, the little pieces give me a clue of what to do. The mystery fragments—and multiplies.
Casey Murano is an artist and caretaker at Bethlehem Farm, an intentional Catholic community in Appalachia. Learn more about her work at www.caseymurano.com and www.bethlehemfarm.net.