An Artist Note

I wanted to make something you could touch, because I want to touch these places and these things for myself and I cannot.

All of this began taking shape in my mind starting from the end of the story. At least, at the end of this part of the story. It started at the tombstone: a mere rock. Unlettered, unornamented, and probably pale gray was this rock, and yet it said what all such stones say when we see them. It said, the end. If you knew the person behind the rock, the words are spoken with such finality as you have never heard a voice speak. I’ve often heard of the long Saturday between Good Friday and the Resurrection, but as someone else has said, there was no thought of being “between Friday and Easter” for these people who knew Jesus. There was only a man they knew and loved , and then there was no one, and a rock to remind them that he was not there. I ask you to get Easter out of your head for a little while as you walk through these stations. I invite you to see the rock and say to yourself, “the end?”

Working backward from the stone I followed two guiding thoughts (aside from the Biblical text) for the rest of the artwork. I wanted each of the pieces to be in the shape of the gravestone, as a constant reminder that these are the final moments of this person’s life. I also wanted the materials used in each piece to be connected to the story in some way. I was very stubborn with this point, even holding to it when I thought I could make something more beautiful in another medium. As often as possible I used natural materials, thinking of how most of these events took place outside. Again, I wanted something you could touch and say to yourself, “in some way, this is what it was like.” Not all of these connections need explaining, and I do not wish here to share my process behind each one, but I will venture a few short thoughts for the journey.

The garden scene is a collage of many of the materials to be found in the later images, imagining that all of the things to take place are referenced in the prayer he is praying. “Father, if you are willing, take this cup of agony away from me!” At this time his friends are sleeping nearby, though he has begged them to stay awake and watch with him. I invite you to put yourself into this story as one of those friends. Not as Peter, John or James, but as a fourth friend, as yourself. He wakes you: “The hour has come…”