SEA OF ROSARIES: OUR LADY OF THE WOODS

OUR LADY OF THE WOODS ©1994 ALFRED EAKER

Winter’s Night (Thomas Merton)

When, in the dark, the frost cracks on the window
The children awaken, and whisper.
One says the moonlight grated like a skate
Across the freezing river.
Another hears the starlight breaking like a knifeblade
Upon the silent, steelbright pond.
They say the trees are stiller than the frozen water
From waiting for a shouting light, a heavenly message.

Yet it is far from Christmas, when a star
Sang in the pane, as brittle as their innocence!
For now the light of early Lent
Glitters upon the icy step –
“We have wept letters to our patron saints,
(The children say) yet slept before they ended.”

Oh, is there in this night no sound of strings, of singers!
None coming from the wedding, no, nor
Bridegroom’s messenger?
(The sleepy virgins stir, and trim their lamps.)

The moonlight rings upon the ice as sudden as a
footstep;
Starlight clinks upon the dooryard stone, too like a
latch,
And the children are again, awake,
And all call out in whispers to their guardian angels.

SEA OF ROSARIES: Our Lady of Sorrows

“Our Lady Of Sorrows,” ©2009 Alfred Eaker (Franciscan Hermitage, Indianapolis)

The Evening of the Visitation (Thomas Merton)

Go, roads, to the four quarters of our quiet distance,
While you, full moon, wise queen,
Begin your evening journey to the hills of heaven,
And travel no less stately in the summer sky
Than Mary, going to the house of Zachary.

The woods are silent with the sleep of doves,
The valleys with the sleep of streams,
And all our barns are happy with peace of cattle gone to rest.
Still wakeful, in the fields, the shocks of wheat
Preach and say prayers:
You sheaves, make all your evensongs as sweet as ours,
Whose summer world, all ready for the granary and barn,
Seems to have seen, this day,
Into the secret of the Lord’s Nativity.

Now at the fall of night, you shocks,
Still bend your heads like kind and humble kings
The way you did this golden morning when you saw God’s
Mother passing,
While all our windows fill and sweeten
With the mild vespers of the hay and barley.

You moon and rising stars, pour on our barns and houses
Your gentle benedictions.
Remind us how our Mother, with far subtler and more holy
influence,
Blesses our rooves and eaves,
Our shutters, lattices and sills,
Our doors, and floors, and stairs, and rooms, and bedrooms,
Smiling by night upon her sleeping children:
O gentle Mary! Our lovely Mother in heaven!

SEA OF ROSARIES: Our Lady of Cobre and the dance of the scared feminine

Our Lady Of Cobre and the dance of the sacred feminine ©2018 Alfred Eaker 

Song for Our Lady of Cobre (Thomas Merton)

The white girls lift their heads like trees,
The black girls go
Reflected like flamingoes in the street.

The white girls sing as shrill as water,
The black girls talk as quiet as clay.
The white girls open their arms like clouds,
The black girls close their eyes like wings:
Angels bow down like bells,
Angels look up like toys,

Because the heavenly stars
Stand in a ring:
And all the pieces of the mosaic, earth,
Get up and fly away like birds.

SEA OF ROSARIES: Our Lady Of Guadalupe: A Woman Clothed In The Sun (and the Dragon of Chaos)

Our Lady of Guadalupe: A Woman Clothed In The Sun (and The Dragon of Chaos) © 2018 Alfred Eaker

Duns Scotus (Thomas Merton)

Striking like lightning to the quick of the real world
Scotus has mined all ranges to their deepest veins:
But where, oh, on what blazing mountain of theology
And in what Sinai’s furnace
Did God refine the gold?

Who ruled those arguments in their triumphant order
And armed them with their strict celestial light?
See the lance-lightning, blade-gliter, banner-progress
As love advances, company by company
In sunlit teams his clean embattled reasons,

Until the firmament, with high heavenly marvel
Views in our crystal souls her blue embodiment,
Unfurls a thousand flags above our heads –
It is the music of Our Lady’s army!

For Scotus is her theologian,
Nor has there ever been a braver chivalry than his
precision.
His thoughts are skies of cloudless peace
Bright as the vesture of her grand aurora
Filled with the rising Christ.

But we, a weak, suspicious generation,
Loving emotion, hating prayer,
We are not worthy of his wisdom.
Creeping like beasts between the mountain’s feet
We look for laws in the Arabian dust.
We have no notion of his freedom

Whose acts despise the chains of choice and passion.
We have no love for his beautitude
Whose act renounces motion:
Whose love flies home forever
As silver as felicity,
Working and quiet in the dancelight of an everlasting
arrow.

Lady, the image of whose heaven
Sings in the might of Scotus’ reasoning:
There is no line of his that has not blazed your glory
in the schools,
Though in dark words, without romance,
Calling us to swear you our liege.

Language was far too puny for his great theology:
But, oh! His thought strode through those words
Bright as the conquering Christ
Between the clouds His enemies:
And in the clearing storm and Sinai’s dying thunder
Scotus comes out, and shakes his golden locks
And sings like the African sun.

SEA OF ROSARIES: Our Lady of Pontmain

Our Lady of Pontmain ©2018 Alfred Eaker

Hagia Sophia (Thomas Merton)

I. Dawn. The Hour of Lauds.

There is in all visible things an invisible fecundity, a
dimmed light, a meek namelessness, a hidden whole-
ness. This mysterious Unity and Integrity is Wisdom,
the Mother of all, Natura naturans. There is in all
things an inexhaustible sweetness and purity, a silence
that is a fount of action and joy. It rises up in word-
less gentleness and flows out to me from the unseen
roots of all created being, welcoming me tenderly,
saluting me with indescribable humility. This is at
once my own being, my own nature, and the Gift of
my Creator’s Thought and Art within me, speaking
as Hagia Sophia, speaking as my sister, Wisdom.

I am awakened, I am born again at the voice of this,
my Sister, sent to me from the depths of the divine
fecundity.

Let us suppose I am a man lying asleep in a hospital.
I am indeed this man lying asleep. It is July the second,
the Feast of Our Lady’s Visitation. A Feast of Wisdom.

At five-thirty in the morning I am dreaming in a very
quiet room when a soft voice awakens me from my
dream. I am like all mankind awakening from all the
dreams that ever were dreamed in all the nights of the
world. It is like the One Christ awakening in all the
separate selves that ever were separate and isolated
and alone in all the lands of the earth. It is like all minds
coming back together into awareness from all distractions,
cross-purposes and confusions, into unity of love. It is like
the first morning of the world (when Adam, at the sweet voice
of Wisdom awoke from nonentity and knew her), and like the Last
Morning of the world when all the fragments of Adam will return from
death at the voice of Hagia Sophia, and will know where they stand.

Such is the awakening of one man, one morning, at
the voice of a nurse in the hospital. Awakening out
of languor and darkness, out of helplessness, out of
sleep, newly confronting reality and finding it to be
gentleness.

It is like being awakened by Eve. It is like being
awakened by the Blessed Virgin. It is like coming
forth from primordial nothingness and standing in
clarity, in Paradise.

In the cool hand of the nurse there is the touch of all
life, the touch of Spirit.

Thus Wisdom cries out to all who will hear (Sapientia
clamitat in plateis) and she cries out particularly
to the little, to the ignorant and the helpless.

Who is more little, who is more poor than the helpless
man who lies asleep in his bed without awareness and
without defense? Who is more trusting than
he who must entrust himself each night to sleep?
What is the reward of his trust? Gentleness comes to
him when he is most helpless and awakens him,
refreshed, beginning to be made whole. Love takes him
by the hand, and opens to him the doors of another
life, another day.

(But he who has defended himself, fought for himself
in sickness, planned for himself, guarded himself, loved
himself alone and watched over his own life all night, is
killed at last by exhaustion. For him there is no newness.
Everything is stale and old.)

When the helpless one awakens strong as the voice of
mercy, it is as if Life his Sister, as if the Blessed Virgin,
(his own flesh, his own sister), as if Nature made wise
by God’s Art and Incarnation were to stand over him and
invite him with unutterable sweetness to be awake and to
live. This is what it means to recognize Hagia Sophia.

II. Early Morning. The Hour of Prime.

O blessed, silent one, who speaks everywhere!

We do not hear the soft voice, the gentle voice, the
merciful and feminine.

We do not hear mercy, or yielding love, or non-resistance,
or non-reprisal. In her there are no reasons and no answers.
Yet she is the candor of God’s light, the expression of His
simplicity.

We do not hear the uncomplaining pardon that bows
down the innocent visages of flowers to the dewy
earth. We do not see the Child who is prisoner in all
the people, and who says nothing. She smiles, for
though they have bound her, she cannot be a prisoner.
Not that she is strong, or clever, but simply that
she does not understand imprisonment.

The helpless one, abandoned to sweet sleep, him the
gentle one will awake: Sophia.

All that is sweet in her tenderness will speak to him
on all sides in everything, without ceasing, and he
will never be the same again. He will have awakened
not to conquest and dark pleasure but to the impeccable
pure simplicity of One consciousness in all and through all:
one Wisdom, one Child, one Meaning, one Sister.

The stars rejoice in their setting, and in the rising of
the Sun. The heavenly lights rejoice in the going
forth of one man to make a new world in the morning,
because he has come out of the confused primordial dark
night into consciousness. He has expressed the clear silence
of Sophia in his own heart. He has become eternal.

III. High Morning. The Hour of Tierce.

The Sun burns in the sky like the Face of God, but
we do not know his countenance as terrible. His light
is diffused in the air and the light of God is diffused
by Hagia Sophia.

We do not see the Blinding One in black emptiness.
He speaks to us gently in ten thousand things, in
which His light is one fullness and one Wisdom.
Thus He shines not on them but from within them.
Such is the loving-kindness of Wisdom.

All the perfections of created things are also in God;
and therefore He is at once Father and Mother. As
Father He stands in solitary might surrounded by
darkness. As Mother His shining is diffused, embracing
all His creatures with merciful tenderness and light.
The Diffuse Shining of God is Hagia Sophia.
We call her His “glory.” In Sophia His power is
experienced only as mercy and as love.

(When the recluses of fourteenth-century England
heard their Church Bells and looked out upon the
wolds and fens under a kind sky, they spoke in their
hearts to “Jesus our Mother.” It was Sophia that had
awakened in their childlike hearts.)

Perhaps in a certain very primitive aspect Sophia is
the unknown, the dark, the nameless Ousia. Perhaps
she is even the Divine Nature, One in Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost. And perhaps she is in infinite light unmanifest,
not even waiting to be known as Light. This I do not know.
Out of the silence Light is spoken. We do not hear it or see
it until it is spoken.

In the Nameless Beginning, without Beginning, was
the Light. We have not seen this Beginning. I do not know
where she is, in this Beginning. I do not speak of her as a
Beginning, but as a manifestation.

Now the Wisdom of God, Sophia, comes forth, reaching
from “end to end mightily.” She wills to be also
the unseen pivot of all nature, the center and significance
of all the light that is in all and for all. That which is poorest
and humblest, that which is most hidden in all things is
nevertheless most obvious in them, and quite manifest, for it
is their own self that stands before us, naked and without care.

Sophia, the feminine child, is playing in the world,
obvious and unseen, playing at all times before the Creator.
Her delights are to be with the children of men. She is their sister.
The core of life that exists in all things is tenderness, mercy, virginity
the Light, the Life considered as passive, as received, as given, as
taken, as inexhaustibly renewed by the Gift of God. Sophia is
Gift, is Spirit, Donum Dei. She is God-given and God
Himself as Gift. God as all, and God reduced to Nothing:
inexhaustible nothingness. Exinanivit semetipsum. Humility as
the source of unfailing light.

Hagia Sophia in all things is the Divine Light reflected in them,
considered as a spontaneous participation, as their invitation
to the Wedding Feast.

Sophia is God’s sharing of Himself with creatures. His outporing,
and the Love by which He is given, and known, held and loved.

She is in all things like the air receiving the sunlight. In her
they prosper. In her they glorigy God. In her they rejoice to reflect
Him. In her they are united with him. She is the union between them.
She is the Love that unites them. She is life as communion, life as
thanksgiving, life as praise, life as festival, life as glory.

Because she receives perfectly there is in her no stain.
She is love without blemish, and gratitude without
self-complacency. All things praise her by being themselves
and by sharing in the Wedding Feast. She is the Bride and the
Feast and the Wedding.

The feminine principle in the world is the inexhaustible source
of creative realizations of the Father’s glory. She is His
manifestation in radiant splendor! But she remains unseen,
glimpsed only by a few. Sometimes there are none who
know her at all.

Sophia is the mercy of God in us. She is the tenderness
with which the infinitely mysterious power of pardon
turns the darkness of our sins into the light of grace.
She is the inexhaustible fountain of kindness, and would
almost seem to be, in herself, all mercy. So she does in us
a greater work than that of Creation: the work of new being
in grace, the work of pardon, the work of transformation from
brightness to brightness tamquam a Domini Spiritu. She
is in us the yielding and tender counterpart of the power, justice
and creative dynamism of the Father.

IV. Sunset. The Hour of Compline. Salve Regina.

Now the Blessed Virgin Mary is the one created being
who enacts and shows forth in her life all that is hidden in Sophia.
Because of this she can be said to be a personal manifestation
of Sophia, Who in God is Ousia rather than Person.

Natura in Mary becomes pure Mother. In her, Natura
is as she was from the origin from her divine birth. In Mary Natura
is all wise and is manifested as an all-prudent, all-loving, all-pure person:
not a Creator, and not a Redeemer, but perfect Creature, perfectly
Redeemed, the fruit of all God’s great power, the perfect expression
of wisdom in mercy.

It is she, it is Mary, Sophia, who in sadness and joy, with the full awareness
of what she is doing, sets upon the Second Person, the Logos, a crown
which is His Human Nature. Thus her consent opens the door of created
nature, of time, of history, to the Word of God.

God enters into His creation. Through her wise answer, through her obedient
understanding, through the sweet yielding consent of Sophia, God enters
without publicity into the city of rapacious men.

She crowns Him not with what is glorious, but with
what is greater than glory: the one thing greater than
glory is weakness, nothingness, poverty.

She sends the infinitely Rich and Powerful One forth
as poor and helpless, in His mission of inexpressible
mercy, to die for us on the Cross.

The shadows fall. The stars appear. The birds begin to sleep.
Night embraces the silent half of the earth. A vagrant, a destitute
wanderer with dusty feet, finds his way down a new road. A
homeless God, lost in the night, without papers, without
identifications, without even a number, a frail expendable exile
lies down in desolation under the sweet stars of the world and
entrusts Himself to sleep.

SEA OF ROSARIES: Our Lady of Kibeho

Our Lady of Kibeho ©2018 Alfred Eaker

Canticle for the Blessed Virgin (Thomas Merton)

Die, Boreas,
And drown your ruins in the gaudy sea,
December, clash your cymbals once again
And put them away.
The crops come thronging from the ground.
The land is green with strength.
The harvests sing like confidence
In the ascetic earth.
Let there be no more patience
With your iron music, death:
Stand, continents, and wear the spring your crown!

The ox-eyed land,
The muted lakes,
The cloudy groves that praise you,
Lady, with their blooms,
Fuse and destroy their lights
And burn them into gold for you, great Virgin,
Coining your honor in the glorious sun.

The skies speed up to meet you, and the seas
Swim you the silver of their crests.
If you delay to come, we’ll see the meteors, by night,
Skimming before your way,
Lighting the time of death’s dismay
In lights as lithe as animals.
And God will blaze your pathway with the incandescent stars.

But oh! Queen of all grace and counsel,
Cause of our joy, Oh Clement Virgin, come:
Show us those eyes as chaste as lightning,
Kinder than June and true as Scripture.
Heal with your looks the poisons of the universe,
And claim your Son’s regenerate world!

Because your Christ disposed Orion and Andromeda
And ordered the clean spheres,
And interplayed the chiming suns to be your toy,

Charm you with antiphon and psalmody
And canticle, and countersong;

Because your Christ
Fired the fair stars with argent for your raiment,
And charged the sinner’s tears
With clean repentent lights –
(As on the day you found me in the dens of libraries
And crushed the jeweled head of heresy) –
He gave you every one of the redeemed to be your dowry
And angels for your crown.

Come from the compass quarter where the thunder sleeps
And let the pity of those eyes
Rout all the armies of our million dangers
Here where we lie in siege:
For you unlock the treasures of the bleeding Wood.
You hold the Mass-keys, and the locks of Calvary,
And All-grace springs in the founts of your demand.

Lady, whose smiles are full of counsel and theology,
Never have you withheld those seas of light
Whose surf confounds the keenest eye.
Grace me to be the soldier of your Scotus,
Arming my actions with the news
Of your Immaculate command.

You, who have saved me from the ones about to break me
On the iron wheels of sin,

And brought me from the torturer
With all the florins of the Parasceve:
If Christ will burn me clean
Of my red-handed perjuries,
Win me His Blood again, and blazon me His priest.

But if my hands that one time wore the stench of death
Are too unworthy of the Liturgy
That speaks our deathless Pasch in veils of Bread,
Make me, until my death, His priest in secret
Offering Mass in all-day’s sacrifice.

Teach me to take all grace
And spring it into blades of act,
Grow spears and sheaves of charity,
While each new instant (new eternity),
Flowering with clean and individual circumstance,
Speaks me the whisper of His consecrating Spirit.
Then will obedience bring forth new Incarnations
Shining to God with the features of His Christ.

Tower, stars, and oh! You sun in Aries,
Shatter a way for her through the embattled weather,
Until the hills
Tidy their fields, and fill them full of flowers
For those Annunciations:

And hell shall melt his onsets
Faster than January’s brawling clouds
Doomed by the music of her chariot.

SEA OF ROSARIES: Our Lady of La Salette

Our Lady Of La Salette © 2018 Alfred Eaker

La Salette

(Thomas Merton)

It is a hundred years since your shy feet
Ventured to stand upon the pasture grass of the high
Alps,

Coming no deeper in our smoky atmosphere
Than these blue skies, the mountain eyes
Of the two shepherd children, young as flowers,
Born to be dazzled by no mortal snow.

Lady, it is a hundred years
Since those fair, terrible tears
Reproved, with their amazing grief
All the proud candor of those altitudes:
Crowning the flowers at your feet
With diamonds, that seized upon, transfigured into
nails of light
The rays of the mountain sun!-

And by their news,
(Which came with cowbells to the evening village
And to the world with church-bells
After not too many days,)
And by their news
We thought the walls of all hard hearts
Had broken down, and given in,
Poured out their dirty garrisons of sin,
And washed the streets with our own blood, if need
be –
– Only to have them clean!

And though we did not understand
The weight and import of so great a sorrow,
We never thought so soon to have seen
The loss of its undying memory,
Passing from the black world without a word,
Without a funeral!
For while our teeth were battling in the meat of
miracles and favors,
Your words, your prophecies, were all forgotten!

Now, one by one,
The things you said
Have come to be fulfilled.

John, in the might of his Apocalypse, could not fore-
tell
Half of the story of our monstrous century,
In which the arm of your inexorable Son,
Bound, by His Truth, to disavow your intercession
For this wolf-world, this craven zoo,
Has bombed the doors of hell clean off their hinges,
And burst the cage of antichrist,
And roused, with His first two great thunderbolts,
The chariots of Armageddon.

RED MEAT THEATER: THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST, OUR MOTHER (featuring Cheryl Townsend as Christ, and Donald Trump, his Admin, and the Alt-Right as her murderers) opening October 14th, 2017 at Thunder-Sky Gallery

Thunder-Sky Inc Gallery

4573 Hamilton Ave, Cincinnati, OH 45223

Opens Oct 14, 6-10 pm

Alfred Eaker artist statement on Red Meat Theater

Christ, Our Mother, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Christ, Our Mother is a reworking of the Good Shepherd theme and is best summarized by Andrew Harvey. “The Future of the world depends on the full restoration of the Sacred Feminine in all its tenderness, passion, divine ferocity, and surrendered persistence.”

Magnificat, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Magnificat, of course is the Lukian discourse attributed to Our Lady. It’s a precursor to “The Beatitudes.” Historicity not being a concern, the character of the Beatitudes reads as coming from the womb of the Magnificat’s author (hence, I use Cheryl Townsend as model for both Christ and Mary). The titled proclamation is an entry point into a nativity setting with Bing, Bowie, and the Little Drummer Boy as wise men paying homage. Burl Ives’ snowman, a skinny misfit Santa, and Diana Ross as an angel further announce the Christmas setting while a threatened, Trumpian/Herodian Goblin of Banality fumes in the landscape.

The Baptism of Christ, Our Mother, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

The Temptation of Christ, Our Mother, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

After her baptism, Christ is tempted by Old Nick himself, Lord Trump (and his 4-million-dollar golden toilet) in The Temptation of Christ, Our Mother.

Christ, our Mother and the Wedding at Cana, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Christ Our Mother celebrates the first SSM with Joe Biden in The Wedding at Cana. The Couple is based off men I knew who may not have ended as tragically as they did if laws had been more accepting at the time. This is my homage to Bud and Jeff (AKA Pee Wee).

Christ Our Mother and the adulteress, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Christ, Our Mother casting the demons into the swine, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Christ, Our Mother and the Samaritan woman, according to St. John acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Christ, Our Mother and the Samaritan woman, according to St. John depicts parallel myths. In the first, St. John (modeled after Antonio Adams) pens the narrative of Christ befriending an immigrant outsider. Meanwhile, three men are in hell, lamenting their state and questioning why they cannot leave this place. However, each wails loudly and in frustration complains that his neighbor is hell (this was a homily I heard in adolescence, told by Bishop Fulton Sheen).

Good Samaritan (A parable, as told by Christ, Our Mother), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Good Samaritan (A parable, as told by Christ, Our Mother) is an overly familiar one, but composed here under the teaching of the Christ figure: “In addition to giving your cloak, give you tunic as well,” and like St. Francis, Christ strips down to model what she preaches: “When you welcome the stranger, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, tend to the ill, you do this to me.” The Mother of the Conquered, she puts her strength into those who have been deeply stunned and staggered, harmfully shocked and pulled down, painfully intruded and left for dead. Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

Lazarus & The Rich Man (A parable, as told by Christ, Our Mother), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Lazarus & The Rich Man (A parable, as told by Christ, Our Mother) depicts Bernie Sanders as Father Abraham. Lazarus is modeled after the son of a friend, and Trump, as the rich man, throws a temper tantrum. Christ haughtily tells the tale to St. John, who will be inspired. David Ross and James Mannan are models for saints James and Peter.

Christ, our Mother healing the Leper, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Lenny Bernstein breaks a sweat conducting the whirling dervish in an Ode To Freedom as Christ, our Mother healing the Leper. Adorned in a three-sided Hindu mask is the Trump demon mocking the less fortunate.

Christ, Our Mother heals the faithful Centurion’s pais, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Christ, Our Mother heals the faithful Centurion’s pais is a well-known sacred narrative, which here pays tribute to a war hero and maverick who has the courage to stand against the Trump regime.

Christ, Our Mother and the Sermon On The Mount, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Ted Nugent contemplates assassinating Our Mother during the Sermon On The Mount. The late Greg Brown as St. Thomas, Denny Stevens as St. Luke, and Jimmy Carter as St. Matthew are among the attendees.

Mary and Martha, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Aja Rossman Gray models the complex Mary and Martha. It is Mary in the first narrative who sits at the feet of a teaching Christ while Martha complains, wanting help with the dinner (or whatever). Christ lets poor Martha know that Mary has the better priority. Later, it is Mary who complains when Christ arrives after her brother has died, but it is Martha who trusts Christ and has faith.

The Transfiguration of Christ, Our Mother, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

A Cher-like Christ leaps for joy with dancing Obamas as Yukon Cornelius celebrates their rainbow for misfits in The Transfiguration of Christ, Our Mother.

Vipers, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Vipers depicts a fast food crowned, wife beater Trump stalking Hillary while Gingrich and Palin egg the misogynist on. True to form, Christ calls them out.

Christ, Our mother throwing out the Moneychangers, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Karen Handel, Trump, and Mitch McConnell are The Moneychangers thrown out of the temple by Christ, Our Mother.

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross  (Christ, Our Mother in the Garden of Agony), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (The betrayal and arrest of Christ, Our Mother), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Betsy Devos, adorned in all her avarice as the Judas that she is, accompanied by alt-right thugs in The betrayal and arrest of Christ, Our Mother.

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (The trial of Christ, our Mother), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (The Passion of Christ, Our Mother), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Mike Pence cheers his lord and master Trump on in The Passion of Christ, Our Mother.

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (Christ, our mother before Pilate), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Paul Ryan as Pilate, washes his hands (with water given him by Steve Bannon) in Christ before Pilate.

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (Christ, Our Mother falls ), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Jerry Falwell Jr and David Duke fly their true Trumpian colors in Stations: Christ falls.

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (Christ meets her Mother on the way to the cross), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (Christ, our Mother meets the women of Jerusalem), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (Mary and the beloved disciple at the foot of the cross), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (The Gospel of Contempt), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Red Meat Theater: Stations of the Cross (The Murder of Christ, Our Mother), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Kim Davis, Mike Huckabee, and Ted Cruz are among the bloody supporters of Trump in The Murder of Christ, Our Mother.

RED MEAT THEATER-Stations of the cross (Yellow Resurrection), acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

BlueMahler, endless narrator that he always is, accompanies Mary and Martha for a Yellow Resurrection. “No demure little cabbage, that woman. No paltry, well-behaved carbon dot. No follower of world orders. She has dirty hands from growing earthly things, and from her day and night work alongside her hard-working sons and daughters. The thugs of the world try to erase her and erase her people, to un-mother them and while, yes, she is calm, but she is not without the will to rise again and again. She is pure, but not as in never going dark, never having doubt, never taking a wrong turn for a time. Holy Mother is not meant to be a fence. Holy Mother is a gate. All are mine, she says, whether they know me or not, whether they practice devotion or not.” Estes.

Peter and John racing to the tomb of Christ, Our Mother, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

The Ascension Of Christ, Our Mother, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Poor Donald gets eclipsed again in The Ascension Of Christ, Our Mother. If he could only learn that changing from bad to good is as easy as Winter Warlock’s first step. Still, Pope Francis and St. John are having a good old time enjoying the show.

The Apocalypse of Christ our Mother, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

After the Trump boys appeared at The trial of Christ, Our Mother (with big daddy Ciaphas Trump) they show up again as black-hatted Voldemort and Lash Larue in The Apocalypse of Christ our Mother. Per the norm, Melania is ignored while Bunker Trump plays with Ivanka as the world falls apart. Still Christ, (Cheryl as a Dorothy Parker type) hitches a ride to something better with St. John and King Moonracer.

 A Woman clothed in the sun, acrylic on canvas ©2017 Alfred Eaker

The Trump administration shows up as The Beast in A Woman clothed in the sun. Ok yeah, it’s stating the obvious, but subtlety is kinda boring these days.

 

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB (at The House Of Shadows, Gresham Oregon)

“Brother Cobweb: A White Trash Opera,” 8 ft x 4ft house paint on wood panel ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB  (house paint on 8 ft x 4 ft wood panel) “Jonestown Massacre” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Rehearsing Brother Cobweb with Rev. Harry (Garman Gibson)

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB  (house paint on 8 ft x 4 ft wood panel) “Gotterdammerung (detail)” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB  (house paint on 8 ft x 4 ft wood panel) “Gotterdammerung” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Alfred Eaker as Brother Cobweb in the “The Church Of Brother Cobweb” @ the House of Shadows©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB “Brother Cobweb’s Communion” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB “Brother Cobweb’s Communion” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB The Whore Of Babylon (Holly Day) ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB “Brother Cobweb’s Communion detail” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB (house paint on 8 ft x 16 ft wood panel) “Brother Cobweb’s Last Supper” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB “Brother Cobweb : Get Behind Me, Satan!” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB “Brother Cobweb preparing the sacrifice.” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB “Brother Cobweb & Rev. Harry preparing the sacrifice” ©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB Brother Cobweb’s A GOOD FIGHT ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Alfred Eaker as Brother Cobweb in the “TheChurch Of Brother Cobweb” @ the House of Shadows©2017 Alfred Eaker

Alfred Eaker as Brother Cobweb in the “The Church Of Brother Cobweb” @ the House of Shadows©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB . Old Nick (Kevin Klansnic). ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Alfred Eaker as Brother Cobweb in the “The Church Of Brother Cobweb” @ the House of Shadows©2017 Alfred Eaker

THE CHURCH OF BROTHER COBWEB Harlot for Christ ©2017 Alfred Eaker

Alfred Eaker as Brother Cobweb in the “The Church Of Brother Cobweb” @ the House of Shadows©2017 Alfred Eaker

Alfred Eaker Paintings

Alfred EAKER 'Our Lady Of The Mermaids%22 oil on canvas © 2011 Alfred Eaker “Our Lady Of The Mermaids”©2011 is a 3 ft x 4 ft oil on canvas. Over the years, I have painted numerous Madonnas, born full grown from a painter’s brow, yet I feel it is this one alone, from 2011, in which my very personal tradition and theological tenets crystallized most lucidly. I have attempted, since then, to paint her again as I did here. Predictably, it has proven futile. Although, Our Lady wears a thousand different skin tones, a thousand names, and a thousand costumes, she stands uniquely untamed in this canvas. This is no Madonna, subjected to patriarchal erasure, no demure, chaste cabbage. Our Lady is imbued with wild sensuality, diaphanous compassion, and revolutionary divinity. She is our lush, boundlessly expansive sanctuary of fearless truth-telling; the fiery daughter of primal white goddesses and Sophianic Mother of the brown mermaids.

* Our Lady was chosen for the 2014 cover of Aurora Literary Magazine.

 

Alfred Eaker %22Annhilation%22 (Sufism. Meditation on Christ casting the money changers out of the temple) oil on canvas. ©2014 Alfred Eaker “Annihilation” is a 2014,  40 x 48 oil on canvas. It stems from Sufi meditation. “Christ casting the money changers out of the temple” is that figure’s moth to the flame moment. It is the only time we see the gospel figure losing his temper and it is this act, which gets him killed and inevitably transforms him. It is lack of love that Christ is responding to. Rather than the traditional depicted action narrative, usually attached to the subject, “Annihilation” is filtered through Le Pointe Vierge; the innermost secret heart. Alfred Eaker 'Aja%22 oil on canvas. © 2014 Alfred Eaker “Aja” is a 2014, 30 x 40 oil on canvas, which is born of Elizabeth Johnson’s meditation on the Marian image: “Truly, Our Sister.” Yes, She is Mother, but also Sister, twin, companion.

ALFRED EAKER Prelude To A Day Of Wonder. Oil on canvas. © 2010 Alfred Eaker.

“Prelude To A Day Of Wonder” is a 2010, 36 x 48 oil on canvas. That it is a prelude is key. Pure,  emotional reaching… upward. A day of wonder is a day of attainment.ALFRED EAKER %22Annunication%22 oil on canvas © 2011 Alfred Eaker

“Annunciation” is a 2011, 3 ft x 5 ft oil on canvas, painted while I was in grad school seminary. It is the prologue to the Magnificat. The Marian figure is young, ethnic, sensually caught up in her mystical hour, manifested through the celestial visitor.   Alfred Eaker PIETA (2011) oil on canvas © 2011 Alfred Eaker

“Pieta” is one of numerous oil on canvases (3 ft x 5 ft) I have painted on the traditional subject. This interpretation is from 2011, and directly followed the above “Annunciation.” The same figure is aged approximately thirty years. Again, she is endowed in her Hour. Her Son, reduced to Corpus Christie, is being lifted to Her by John the beloved and Joseph of Arimathea.The author of the Beatitudes is clearly the son of the Magnificat’s author. In the gospel narrative, Christ cried out to His Father: “Why have you forsaken me?”  Father turned His face from Son. Yet, Mother faced Her son directly. As painful as it was, She did not look away. She did not forsake Him and wears a shirt of arrows for Him. Alfred Eaker %22Stations IV%22 Christ Meets His Mother On The Way To The Cross. oil on canvas 5 ft x 5 ft. ©2011 Alfred Eaker “Stations IV. Christ meets His Mother On The Way To The Cross” is a 2011 oil on canvas and on of six Station paintings. All are 5 ft x 5 ft. Again, I dispense of a narrative per se and channel the event through a purely emotional, almost musically mystical filter. This is a homage to the teachings of Fr. Justin Belitz. Alfred Eaker Barenboim conducts the Bruckner 7th . oil on canvas ©2014 Alfred Eaker “Barenboim conducts the Bruckner 7th” is a 2014, 3 ft x 4 ft oil on canvas. It is a reinterpretation from a sketch I made during a Chicago concert of that symphony, conducted by Daniel Barenboim in the 1990s. The 7th is the most personally mystical of Bruckner’s symphonic output. Barenboim is a pronounced romanticist and a visceral Brucknerian, shaping the composer’s intimate sanctuary. Alfred Eaker %22Pieta%22 oil on canvas © 2014 Alfred Eaker “Pieta” is a 58 x 48 oil on canvas from 2014. Revisiting the subject, I concentrated on the relationship between the Madonna and Her slain Son in a celestial, communal setting. Alfred Eaker Yellow Resurrection. oil on canvas. © 2008 Alfred Eaker

“Yellow Resurrection” is a 30 x 48 oil on canvas from 2008 and an entirely different variation of previous Pieta-like themes. My BlueMahler character serves as a narrator, composing an exotic interpretation of the Easter theme. Alfred Eaker %22Christ and the Woman at the well.%22 oil on canvas. © 2014 Alfred Eaker   “Christ and the Woman at the Well” is a 2014, 3 ft x 4 ft oil on canvas. It is painted in monochromatic hues. No water well is depicted. I forgo a narrative in favor of an emotional interaction. Although Christ is recognized as prophet, He learns from her. She teaches him her humanity and it is a vulnerable sharing. Alfred Eaker Escape to a Mysterious Freedom. oil on canvas. © 2007 alfred eaker

“Escape To A Mysterious Freedom” is one of several paintings inspired by my time in New Mexico. It is a 2007 oil on canvas and depicts a lone, female rider. It is a surreal variation of Gauguin’s Riders On The Beach. The woman is on a tension-filled promenade and the freedom which awaits her is an unknown one. I had read St. John of the Cross’ “Dark Night Of The Soul’ shortly before painting this and that certainly factored in. Alfred Eaker Prayer for a perilous descent. oil on canvas © 2007 alfred eaker

“Prayer For A Perilous Descent” is a 45 x 60, 2007 oil on canvas and companion piece to the previous painting. A family is depicted: A mother and father, shielding their children, through a perilous descent while Holy Mother prays for their safety. Alfred EAKER Blue Fugue oil on canvas © 2007 alfred eaker

“Blue Fugue” is another 2007 companion to “Escape To A Mysterious Freedom”  and is 3 ft x 4 ft. St. John Of the Cross and Gauguin inform the painting’s theme and milieu. A lone, male figure rides into a terrain of infinite shadows. DIGITAL CAMERA

“Passion of Perpetua and Felicity” is a  30 x 40, 2008 oil on canvas, taken from a gnostic text of martyrdom. It is a literal, narrative interpretation, but one saturated with paradoxical emotions, including divine eroticism. Alfred Eaker Married in the Faucet. oil on canvas. © 2007 alfred eaker

“Married In the Faucet” is a 3 ft x 4 ft 2007 canvas, named after a line from a poem by John M. Bennett (who acted in two of my films. He was Satan in “Jesus and her Gospel of Yes” and George H. Bush in “W.”) The BlueMahler character is depicted in an unconsummated marriage. DIGITAL CAMERA “Finger Paint Viscosity” is a 3 ft x 4 ft, 2007 oil on canvas, named after  Cheryl Townsend poem (Cheryl played Jesus in my “Jesus and her Gospel of Yes” film). BlueMahler conducts the non-narrative narrative (as he did in the film). Cheryl herself is depicted. Her form echoes the eroticism inherent in her words. There is an Alexander Scriabin-like insect quality to her sexed-up figure. * All paintings are for sale. For pricing, serious inquiries may contact us at: pinkfreudbluemahler@msn.com

2. Alfred Eaker Hay que caminar„ soñando ©Alfred Eaker 2013

“Hay que caminar, soñando “is a 40 x 60, 2013 oil on canvas, named after a musical composition by Luigi Nono, translated (roughly) as “Wanderer, there is no destination, but you must travel the road.”

1. Alfred Eaker Risonanze erranti (Resonances wandering) ©Alfred Eaker 2013

 

“Risonanze errant” (Resonances wandering) is a  x 33 x 52, oil on canvas from 2013, named after a musical composition by Luigi Nono.

5. Alfred Eaker Omaggio a Luigi Nono. ©Alfred Eaker 2013

“Omaggio a Luigi Nono” is a 3 ft x 3 ft oil on canvas, and homage to Luigi Nono.

4. Alfred Eaker Io, Frammento da Prometeo ©Alfred Eaker 2013

“Io, Frammento da Prometeo” is a 48 x 48, 2013 oil on canvas, named after a musical composition by Luigi Nono.

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“Shifting Sanctuaries” is a 2009, 30 x 48 oil on canvas of the BlueMahler character.

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“Fragments From a Crepuscular World” is a 30 x 48 oil on canvas from 2009.

ALFRED EAKER Self Portrait of the artist as a middle aged man c.2009 alfred eaker

“Self Portrait of the artist as a middle aged man” is a 3ft x 4 ft oil on canvas, from 2009.

 

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“Without World” is a 4ft x 4 ft oil on canvas from 2009.

** A portion of all sales will go to the Franciscan Hermitage.