The GPCC Arts Ministry was established in the autumn of 2016 to provide an opportunity for people inside and outside the congregation to connect with God and each other through the creative process. God has given each of us a voice, and creative endeavors allow us to speak to each other and to acknowledge God's presence within us. The Arts Ministry includes art exhibitions, a designated Poetry Sunday, when Poetry is incorporated into the worship service, and opportunities to participate in art making and art classes. An inter-generational dramatic production is presented in December during Advent. Other programs are in formation.
   
 

Current Exhibit

 

{extra}ordinary Paper

 Exhibit Open February 11 - March 25, 2018

Monday - Friday  9:00 AM - 1:00 PM
Sunday - 11:00 - 1:00 PM
Or by appointment

                        

 

Previous Exhibit

Call & Response

Poets and Artist in Dialogue!

 Past Exhibits 
    Please browse our past exhibits on our Facebook Page - fb

                       

 

 
     

Poetry of the Month

Advice to a Prophet

Richard Wilbur

When you come, as you soon must, to the streets of our city,   

Mad-eyed from stating the obvious,
Not proclaiming our fall but begging us
In God’s name to have self-pity,

Spare us all word of the weapons, their force and range,   
The long numbers that rocket the mind;
Our slow, unreckoning hearts will be left behind,   
Unable to fear what is too strange.

Nor shall you scare us with talk of the death of the race.   
How should we dream of this place without us?—
The sun mere fire, the leaves untroubled about us,   
A stone look on the stone’s face?

Speak of the world’s own change. Though we cannot conceive   
Of an undreamt thing, we know to our cost
How the dreamt cloud crumbles, the vines are blackened by frost,   
How the view alters. We could believe,

If you told us so, that the white-tailed deer will slip   
Into perfect shade, grown perfectly shy,
The lark avoid the reaches of our eye,
The jack-pine lose its knuckled grip

On the cold ledge, and every torrent burn
As Xanthus once, its gliding trout
Stunned in a twinkling. What should we be without   
The dolphin’s arc, the dove’s return,

These things in which we have seen ourselves and spoken?   
Ask us, prophet, how we shall call
Our natures forth when that live tongue is all
Dispelled, that glass obscured or broken

In which we have said the rose of our love and the clean   
Horse of our courage, in which beheld
The singing locust of the soul unshelled,
And all we mean or wish to mean.

Ask us, ask us whether with the worldless rose   
Our hearts shall fail us; come demanding   
Whether there shall be lofty or long standing   
When the bronze annals of the oak-tree close.

 
         

 

 

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