For "Oh Mary, Don't You Weep", i thought a lot about the biblical images, as well as the emotional implications /uses of the song (both lyrically and musically). As far as Biblical images there seemed to be, as addressed on the course page for the week, a blending of the New and Old Testament references. Almost like one story (the story of Martha and Mary, an NT story, more personal, domestic, warmer somehow) was being superimposed over another (the Exodus story, OT, historic, epic, dramatic, grander and more impressive). Thinking about it now calls to mind my own thoughts about the god (i want to say gods here, although of course the OT god is canonically the same god of the NT)--the different versions, visions, or experiences of god presented in these texts. As a kid growing up catholic i sort of wrestled with teachings and scripture and dogma, especially with a lot of the language and rhetoric used throughout church proceedings, in the scripture itself, in the community in general, etc. The Old Testament presented me with this image i was supposed to be afraid of, something hulking, wise, tempestuous, some big jealous dude hanging out in the sky somewhere who would come down and smite me if i did something wrong or started worshipping idols or whatever. Which of course I resisted, because i was kind of a snarky hot-headed kid with a warped sense of my own importance and i figured i didn't much care to be devoting my time to a higher power like that, with the main motivation presented being fear of some form of punishment, or maybe a will to strike some deals and get something good for myself out of it (all the language of covenants and deliverance and whatever the duck else). I think the New Testament appealed more to me at that time, because i could rationalize belief in god on the moral grounds that it was somehow mutually beneficial to me and to others that I do so, and that i could build relationships and community and find purpose in that, rather than this idea that i should believe in god because he was more powerful than i was and he could squash me or something if i didn't follow the rules. Ive always kind of defiant and I've never much cared for rules so of course that didn't appeal to me. And I've since found problems with the NT, and merits in a lot of the OT language (although more from a personal literary/philosophical  perspective than my previous religious/spiritual one, which I've largely abandoned), but that was just sort of my 7 year old self's view of the thing.

Anyway i think in my painting this stuff sort of sprung up organically again, there's several levels of meaning that i can read into my work now after having made it, the first, and probably least intentional, or maybe, most unexpected (for me to find in my own work), of which has to do with the Biblical references. This idea that there is a superimposition of warmth and hope on a personal, domestic and intimate scale on this narrative of the Exodus, this epic, historic and impressive story, which happens on a much larger and grander scale. This mirrors the way the stories were incorporated and used in the song and in spirituals in general, these grand historic events taken and put to music for moments of comfort and hope to the community, or to individuals, even though the story of the Exodus itself seems, to me at least, not the most well-suited for that purpose. although when i think about it i guess im wrong. There's comfort in knowing that you subscribe to a belief system where the guy in charge can drown all your enemies I guess. I just never took comfort from that personally, but this song manages to weave narratives together to make that somehow much more salient for me. 

The thing that I thought about most in the actual making of the piece was the implication of telling someone not to weep, which for me raised some issues. On the one hand, there is the obvious intention of providing comfort, but on the other, it seems to me an active attempt at suppressing another individual's emotions. Which bothered me, and brought me back, again, always to the paint itself, the medium of my expression, the thing i try to suppress and control and command but that i find works best, like most emotions, when i let it run its due course. There are some things, like stopping the flow of tears, splitting the ocean, and trying to plan a painting, that i guess could be done, with varying amounts of work and effort, and i guess with some results that could be considered desirable, that i have personally decided are simply not worthwhile. In fact things i find are usually much more meaningful if you don't spend too much time trying to control those sorts of things. Which brings me to a passage that I particularly loved from LeRoi Jones' Blues People, on pages 30-31: "In the West, only the artifact can be beautiful, mere expression cannot be thought to be...the principle of the beautiful thing as opposed to the natural thing still makes itself felt...Thus an alto saxophonist like Paul Desmond, who is white, produces a sound on his instrument that can almost be called legitimate, or classical, and the finest Negro alto saxophonist, Charlie Parker, produced a sound on the same instrument that was called by some 'raucous and uncultivated.' But Parker's sound was meant to be both those adjectives. Again, reference determines value. Parker also would literally imitate the human voice with his cries, swoops, squawks, and slurs, while Desmond always insists he is playing an instrument, that it is an artifact separate from himself. Parker did not admit that there was any separation between himself and the agent he had chosen as his means of self-expression." 

i don't have much to say about that quote, except for that i did some very violent and emphatic underlining in my reader when i came across it. i was truthfully very moved to have found something so directly applicable to my own practice. but otherwise I'll let the quote and the painting speak for themselves.