Blue

Focolare spirituality defines seven areas of life, each a way of expressing love. Nothing is more or less important, more or less sacred.  “Love is light,” Chiara Lubich explains. When clear light passes through a prism, or even a drop of water, it refracts into the seven colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. And just as that light breaks into different colors, love too has a way of expressing itself in just as many ways.

When I first began participating in Focolare gatherings, I was immediately struck by the harmony of the meeting spaces; even in very small details, the spaces conveyed a great sense of peace, order and beauty, which really touched me. I understood that there was something greater behind this and that expressing the beauty of God through harmony was a way of conveying God’s presence.

I began to live the spirituality of the Focolare in every aspect of my life including the arts, which have always been my passion. I’ve learned from Chiara Lubich that if I allow God to take the first place in my heart, he, who is love, can shape my every action. Consequently, inspirations become true art because in those movements—in the dance that I perform, in those forms that shape my sculptures—I express my soul, which is immortal, a reflection of heaven.

I remember so many moments when, while creating a new work, I would also try to love concretely even in very simple ways, like being the first to apologize when something happened, or running home to set the table for dinner before the others arrived, etc. Then I could really see the difference in my work. 

When I am creating something, the most beautiful experience for me is to be able to work with God within me. It could sound like a heresy, but sometimes I feel more union with him when I’m dancing, or creating an art piece at the studio, than when I go to Church. 

I also feel that it is important to share my ideas with others and to welcome their comments with openness. Recently I’ve taken a sculpture class with classmates who are more experienced than me—a few of them, for example, are retired architects. When I exposed my ideas to the class, two of them gave me advice that I initially didn’t like and didn’t want to take. However, since the title of my piece was “Dialogue,” I felt that I would have betrayed my art piece if I was not able to open myself to the other’s ideas and listen to them fully, trying to understand their reasoning. Everyone liked the final product and my work was made even easier after I tried to follow their advice.

In a previous sculpture class, my professor used to say that we should make art that nobody else has ever thought of before, and that it doesn’t matter if the piece is ugly or weird or immodest or crazy, the important is that it is different from what others have done so far. That thought can be exciting for artists, but I couldn’t fully agree with it. I am attracted to making things that are different, but that doesn’t mean making things that don’t reflect the beauty of creation, of humanity, of God.

Later in that semester, for another class, I had the idea of making some art that could be used for a fundraiser for those in the Middle East who are suffering because of war. When I spoke with some of my professors, they really encouraged me on my project. I made a wall of ceramic tiles that were taken down one by one by people giving their donation. I was able to raise $4,000.00 and many commented that the artwork was beautiful and original. People would say: “How did you come up with such an idea?” “This art work is amazing, I have never seen anything like this!” I knew that the merit was really not mine but it was a fruit of wanting to promote beauty and harmony in our world.  

— Joelma 

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