This is an ongoing project committed to resisting what G.K. Chesterton called “a small and cramped eternity”—that profane vision of Christianity as somehow limited to what happens on a Sunday morning, rather than a vision-shattering insight into reality itself.
I spend most of my day sitting at a computer—an unfathomable device made up of components from all over the world. When I go out of the house, I get into a vehicle and travel along roads made of asphalt in urban developments infinitely removed from what had been—until the last century—the accumulated outcome of millennia of slow ecological change. I eat food that I do not know the source of, grown in places I have never been, harvested by people I do not know and then brought here via a supply chain too complex to be fathomed. I am surrounded by these sites of dislocation. Dislocation from what? From the created world.
I am a creature. Really, everything that I see is a creature; however, much of that creatureliness has been occluded. This occlusion destabilizes and unmoors me, casting me afloat into a sea of abstraction.