Jesus Christ
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The photograph is of a small plastic crucifix submerged in what appears to be a yellow liquid. The artist has described the substance as being his own urine in a glass. The photograph was one of a series of photographs that Serrano had made that involved classical statuettes submerged in various fluids—milk, blood, and urine. The full title of the work is Immersion (Piss Christ). The photograph is a 60-by-40-inch (150 by 100 cm) Cibachrome print. It is glossy and its colors are deeply saturated. The presentation is that of a golden, rosy medium including a constellation of tiny bubbles. Without Serrano specifying the substance to be urine and without the title referring to urine by another name, the viewer would not necessarily be able to differentiate between the stated medium of urine and a medium of similar appearance, such as amber or polyurethane.
Piss Christ by Andres Serrano
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“In all my works, light is an important controlling factor,” says Ando. “I create enclosed spaces mainly by means of thick concrete walls. The primary reason is to create a place for the individual, a zone for oneself within society. When the external factors of a city’s
environment require the wall to be without openings, the interior must
be especially full and satisfying.” And further on the subject of walls,
Ando writes, “At times walls manifest a power that borders on the
violent. They have the power to divide space, transfigure place, and
create new domains. Walls are the most basic elements of architecture,
but they can also be the most enriching.”
Church of Light (Ibaraki-shi, Osaka fu, Japan) by Tadao Ando
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Park Ave Church NYC 2014
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Once upon a time
Once upon a time there was a little munchkin named Cait. She loved Barbies and nail polish, America and heaven, sunshine and flowers, boy and babies, family and friends, sparklers and birthday cake, nightgowns and puppies, Christmas and
fairytales. She liked to think she was the epitome of the American girl
if there ever was one.
When she was just a wee one, her momma and daddio took her to Sunday School where she heard about
a man named Jesus.
She knew He wasn’t just any ordinary fella, but He was the very Son of
God. She learned that Jesus came to earth and died on a cross because
He loved her. He died so that she could be set free from all her fears,
all her worries, all her cares, all her concerns. After three days of
being dead, He came back to life. He rose from the dead, so that all
who believed in Him wouldn’t ever really die but would get to live in
heaven forever in the great and glorious land for which they were
originally intended – together with their Father, unafraid, unashamed,
joyous and peaceful, safe and secure, filled with love and compassion.
Little Cait so looked forward to the day she could be with Jesus. She
believed He was the Messiah. She believed that He had saved her, and
that He loved her unconditionally. She knew He was mighty and powerful
and had authority over the heavens and the earth.
Yet as she grew up, she noticed she was often afraid.
In fact, often may have been an understatement.
She was afraid of practically erryyyyyything.
She feared it all. She was afraid of the dark, elevators, spiders,
getting lost, Splenda, scary movies, diabetes, cancer, car wrecks,
drowning, airplane crashes, tornados, mold, french fries, ticks,
medicine, slip-and-slides, germs, hair nets, cockroaches, Fox News,
mice, talking to boys, guns, gangs, and everything in between.
Cait was sometimes so afraid of getting sick that she made herself sick.
She was afraid of what the other kids at school thought of her. But
even more so, she was often afraid of what God thought of her. She
worried that one day He might change His mind and decide he didn’t
really love her. She sometimes wondered if he’d ever simply stop loving
her.
She was afraid He wouldn’t really protect her because she was too gross
for Jesus to really love her. She was afraid that one day the terrible,
dark enemy would over take her and snatch her out of her Father’s
hands. She was afraid of her thoughts and deeply afraid of rejection.
She was constantly fearful that something was wrong with her, that she
was unloveable, and suspicious that God couldn’t really be trusted. She
feared making decisions – particularly making the wrong decision. She
was afraid that if she chose incorrectly, she would walk out of God’s
will for her life and she would be removed from the house of God
forever.
In her heart, she knew that God would never remove His love for her and
that her fears were irrational and ridiculous and grounded in nothing
but lies, but yet she was still afraid.
She lived in a constant state of anxiety – her mind running wild with a
thousand what-ifs, her stomach full of what felt like icky worms that
rolled around inside her all the time, and her back full of tight knots
that seemed impossible to get rid of.
She felt as though she was a slave to fear. She served fear – not God.
In her head, she knew God loved her, but in her heart, she often
questioned how much and if His forever really meant forever.
—Anonymous
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Rio De Janeiro, Brazil