By Dina Pannabecker Evans, Co Director of Music
I’m currently in the process of cleaning out my desk as I prepare to transition into a fulltime position at church. The prospects ahead are exciting: short term, as we gear up for Carla Aday’s installation; and longer term, as we think about what 100 years of existence – and beyond – looks like…
But it was the modest mug on my desk – the repository for my pencils, pens, a couple of rulers and a big eraser – that serves as a reminder of one of the most wondrous stories of redemption that I have ever publicly witnessed.
A number of years ago, it was part of my job to connect fine arts alumni and students. So I worked with faculty and administration to bring selected alumni back to campus to tell their career story and interact with students. One particular alumnus was on our radar for a return trip – a visual artist whose career path had taken him to major auction houses in New York City. So the visit was scheduled and confirmed.
Turns out that decades prior, the now-booked guest had made derogatory comments about the department from which he graduated… and the long-term faculty hadn’t forgotten. I also learned that his senior show had been rather controversial, as his art consisted of mostly text on a variety of mediums.
So the alumnus showed up in Lawrence. And I was surprised to meet a very modest, quiet, gentle, good-humored man who wore impeccably tailored vintage clothing. He was gracious and congenial with no apparent subversive leanings.
But things came to a head at his final presentation. During the question-and-answer session, a well-known emeritus professor stood up and confronted the alumnus.
Tempered by time and experience, the artist calmly, though visibly nervous, responded, “That’s why I wanted to come back. I want to say that I’m sorry for what I said.” He went on to explain his feelings of not belonging – being gay and Jewish, and making art that was roundly criticized at the time.
Following the session, the two talked privately and shook hands. And as everyone exited they received a mug that had been specially designed by the artist for the occasion – a generic white coffee cup, printed with a stream-of-consciousness text in blue. And the artist stood at the door with a Sharpie, happily personalizing and signing the bottom of each cup for the recipient.
My mother is a collector of quotes and this is one: “We leave traces of ourselves wherever we go, on whatever we touch.”
I encourage you to think about the traces we as a church wish to leave in the future. I look forward to hearing your ideas and vision as we work together towards the next 100 years.
