Dappled Things, the Magazine

I'd also like to take a moment of my procrastination to remind my wide readership of the existence of Dappled Things, a Catholic art and literary magazine. The Advent/Christmas edition, most of it available online, has some impressive work. The short poems "The Carp" and "The Numbers," by Cristina A. Montes and John A. Di Camillo, respectively, are marvelously compact statements of great depth and mellifluousness (an unsatisfying word, if there ever was one - saw the word "mellifluity" online, but could find no definition - that, or "mellifluidity," might be useful neologisms). Brendan A. McGrath's "Ghetto Sunrise," were I a priest working in a thankless parish, would hang in my bedroom or sacristy.

Also, the works of Daniel Matsui, who's been featured in a number of Dappled Things editions, is worth recommending. Were I rich enough to build my own chapel, or a priest in charge of decorating a church, I'd consider hiring him to design windows or frescos (assuming they still fresco, otherwise murals). From this issue, his "Crucifixion" is his most attractive and ornate. I do not love the faces of his "Tree of Life and Death," but I like the symbolism, especially the juxtaposition in the tree of the symmetrical crucifix with the assymetrical angel of death. My favorite of the works available on his website, one which I think was published earlier in Dappled Things, is his "St. Jerome." I was familiar with the first version only, but I do like the second version also, lower down on the same page. I am comforted by the familiar lion, made curious by the whimsical litter at his feet, and enjoy the grace of the silouhette behind him. Also striking is his "St. Bartholomew," seemingly inspired not only by the medieval work he claims as his primary inspiration, but also, in the muscle-and-bone face, by comic books. (I hope he does not regard this as an insult, as it isn't. My untrained eye sees a resemblance, and I suppose it would be hard for most anyone interested in drawing to remain at this point un-influenced by the comics.) Looking at it again, I notice for the first time and appreciate his use of Greek letters, Phi and Theta, in his Latin captions. Perhaps his intent is to remind us of the way the Church brought the Greek and Roman cultures with it into modernity. Perhaps Bartholomew spoke Greek and Latin. In truth, I don't know the reason, but they are stylistically pleasing.