Parsing through the onslaught of self-promoting and self-defeating capsules of "creativity" on social media these days is enough to send anyone for the hills, seeking a horizon and trees.

British artist Gary Bunt's gentle illustrations and whimsical poetry are the antidote to such "look at me" shallowness. Opting instead for a "look at this" message. His work has been an absolute delight for me these past few months.

"What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs?" Mary Oliver opined in lyrical contemplation of dogs she'd loved and lost and in reverence for the Something that created them in the first place.

In his first published work, The Man Who Found God, Bunt concurs:

A Faithful Friend

The older he's grown he seems more alone

There's a sadness deep in his eyes

But he knows he's got me, a faithful friend I shall be

Forever I'll walk by his side

Greater love hath no man than this (John 15:13)

The Man Who Found God is a word and image culled from the mind of a man who has illustrated for decades, perhaps much - but not exactly - like his character. It pulls us into the near-sighted focus of rooms, gardens, and lanes; echoing the time-aged belief that the most beautiful aspects of life, that shape of beauty that moves the pale, can often be found within rather than without.

Up The Wooden Hill

Another day comes to an end
With our worries and our cares
We make our way up the wooden hill
For it's time to say our prayers

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done (Matthew 6:10)

And yet, there is an expansiveness to Bunt's work, the central theme is the friendship between the dog, the Master (who is only seen through the eyes of the dog), and the sometimes-subtle, sometimes-overwhelming Grace that awakens tulips and warms their shoulders from time to time.

Feeling Blessed

It's a beautiful day, we're on our way
We have set off on our quest
His spirit was strong as we poodled along
The two of us feeling blessed

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God (Matthew 5:8)

The Beach Hut

It's been a very busy day
Time to get some sleep
Tonight we'll stay in this little hut
That sits upon the beach

I lie down and sleep, I wake again because the Lord sustains me (Psalm 3:5)

"The Man Who Found God" is a journey to be sure, but it is less a narrative of a journey and more the beautiful visual incantations of daily life. The things that, Annie Dillard tells us, sum up life.

Many Miles

He's getting very tired
We've walked for many miles
Through the woods across the fields
Over wooden stiles
"Tomorrow is another day my friend
I fear I need to rest
For I don't seem any closer
And I'm really trying my best"

Take therefore no thought for the morrow (Matthew 6:34)

When they say God is in the details, they mean the small quotidian sorrows and actions that prick and lull our souls throughout the day. A walk taken stride by stride, watching the wind move through water,

 to speak to us, and the small diligences that make something from nothing.

At the end of all of this, what we seek, demand perhaps, is an arrival of sorts. A rest. For those seekers of God (Christian or otherwise)

 and disciples of his teachings, this rest is a critical aspect of life. Not death, per se, but an embrace. Poet and essayist Joseph Brodsky defined it as anonymity and peace simultaneously.

Anonymity from our thunderous ego, perhaps. From the thunderous doings of things and striving towards things, assuredly.

Church Lane

He took a look in his special book
His faith is renewed again
"Let's move on I must stay strong
He might be down Church Lane"   We live on a Church Land, at its end is of course the church, and a coursing river. In the cemetery next to the church there is an "Ellen" buried, who I visit often, wondering where she is.

I love them that love me, and those that seek me early shall find me (Proverbs 8:17)

Simone Weil, a devout Catholic and almost sublime being without contradiction, reasoned that it was only through the existence and contemplation of God that we gave ourselves existence. I think of Mary Oliver wondering what "Something" brought forth the froth across the ocean and Emerson beholding stars to ascend earthly slight.

In The Man Who Found God the days pass in beautiful English venues, the stuff of memory and dream.

The Red Gate

As we ambled down the road
I'm greeted by a mate
A dachshund named Dale wagging his tail
Behind a nice red gate
"It looks likes you're rather busy
Can you possibly spare some time?
I'm searching for the man upstairs
Have you happened to see any sign?"
"I know he must be busy
Because it's near the end of spring
And he has to change the seasons
As summer's coming in"

While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease (Genesis 8:22)

Pastures New

I'm feeling sorry for my Master
Sitting here beneath the moon
He's quite upset he hasn't found God yet
I hope he finds him soon
"I know he is around so I must not get down
Tomorrow the skies will be blue
After a good night's sleep, I'll be back on my feet
And we'll head for pastures new"

He maketh me lie down in green pastures (Psalm 23:2)

The Village

"We'll find a place in the village to stay
My Bible I need to read
Maybe I can find some clues
And see where that may lead"

The Kingdom of heaven is like unto treasure hid in a field (Matthew 13:44)

I found myself thinking of Leonard Cohen's poetic sundry: "There is a moment in every day when I kneel before the love I have for you. Then I remember that I am still that man, and I know that my life’s work is to be that man." It seems to capture the same feeling of question and longing; of being and claiming that comes alive in Bunt's work.

South Bound

"Why is it I keep failing?
I don't know what to do
Perhaps it's time to head back south
I need to start anew"
My Master's disappointed
He's feeling rather low
Autumn leaves are falling
It's time for us to go

My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart (Psalm 73:26)

"Once again the thought of you has rescued me from the puzzle of my indifference" Cohen continues. It is love, isn't it? That very thing. Through love into which all our of faith - of any sort - is born.There is no mistaking the palindrome 'God' and 'Dog' that dance together throughout Bunt's text. Animals show us all the love in the world, they open our hearts and open them again to love widely as we did once.   I gather here those who love animals with as much innocence as humanity allows. Read more from Gerald Durrell, David Attenborough, A. A. Milne and Doris Lessing. Animals without whom we would be so utterly lonely and so utterly lost.

Behold, I shew you a mystery (1 Corinthians 15:51)

PS: behold, I show you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall be changed.

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Whatever your convictions, whatever your path, linger on these pages and let the words entwine your heart, as you might Okakura's longing for wisdom from the practice of tea, Neruda's beyond-reason love of common things, and Rebecca Solnit's guide to finding and being, lost.

May restful thoughts fill your heart and cox your mind to comfort.

All images are ⓒ  Gary Bunt, 2022, and provided courtesy of the Portland Gallery.