Book Review: Exhausting Jesus at the Minneapolis Institute of Art, by Klecko (2026)

From my afternoon at MIA with Klecko. Photo by Mark C. Taylor

Could you stare at a single painting for 100 hours? That's the challenge that the poet and writer Klecko set out for himself in his most recent book. Released in June, and titled Exhausting Jesus at the Minneapolis Institute of Art, the book chronicles Klecko's journey as he examines the painting Christus Consolator, from 1851 by the Dutch artist Ary Scheffer. Klecko divided his 100 hours into one-hour viewing segments, and throughout the book we see how Klecko approaches the painting, and the community that coalesces around him as his mission gets more attention. 

Klecko writes that he has two jobs as a poet: "Observe and Love, these are the only things you need to do if you want to be a successful poet. In my world, Observe and Love is more than a mantra, it's a lifestyle." (p.193) These two words, observe and love, play a large role in the book. And honestly, they should play a large role in every artist's practice. Simply put, that is what we all should strive to do: observe and love. 

During hour number 17, Klecko tells us one of his goals for the project: "What I'd like to accomplish is to remind you that if you invest 100 hours, or even a fraction of that, staring and contemplating on a single object, it just might change your life. It's changed mine." (p.47)

One of my favorite quotes from the book is this one: "As my thoughts twisted like a kaleidoscope, I realized that graveyards and art galleries may be the only places that held abject beauty and silence in perfect balance." (p.52) As someone who also finds solace and beauty in those places, I strongly agree. Or to borrow Klecko's phrase, "I didn't disagree." 

Klecko also describes impactful moments he's had at other art museums. You'll discover his love for Edward Hopper, and you'll want to Google all of the paintings Klecko mentions in the book. One of my favorite tidbits is his story about seeing Monet's lily pads at the Met in New York City. A woman came up to him and struck up a conversation about how wonderful it would be to see Monet's gardens in France. 

"I told her I would prefer to stay in New York with the painting, because if you visited the beautiful gardens in France, people would strike up conversations, and that would destroy the moment." (p.167) 

But don't read too much into that one interaction; it's usually Klecko who is striking up conversations with his fellow gallery occupants, and these are always entertaining. Klecko has the rare ability to strike up a conversation with anyone about pretty much anything.

Another quote I really liked was this one: "No amount of time will ever suffice when you are in the presence of beauty." (p.74) Well said, which at least partly explains why I'm so slow at art museums. 

Exhausting Jesus is mainly written in prose, but there are poems interspersed throughout. One of my favorite poems ends with these lines:

"In a crazy world we still have art, and you know what

That might be the difference

That might be what saves us" (p.148) Amen. 

Christus Consolator is a fascinating painting, as it contains 15 people, plus one Jesus. There's a lot going on in the painting, so it's a good candidate for long viewing. The painting has a fascinating story. Scheffer painted several versions of this painting, and it was big hit in the art world of the 1850's. The painting in MIA's collection came to the museum in a roundabout way. The painting was discovered in a janitor's closet in a church in Dassel, Minnesota, a small town about 50 miles west of Minneapolis. When the church realized the value of the painting, and how expensive it would be to conserve and care for it, they donated it to MIA. 

I'll confess, I've probably bypassed Christus Consolator numerous times in Gallery 357. Religious-themed paintings are not my personal favorite, although the art history classes I took in college helped deepen my knowledge of the Bible, since so many paintings were illustrating scenes from the Bible. I can appreciate these paintings, but I'm more naturally drawn to other subjects, like landscapes or portraits. Gallery 357 houses some of my favorite artworks from the permanent collection at MIA, like the incredible Veiled Lady sculpture by Raffaele Monti, the slightly creepy Portrait of Clementine by Henri Lehmann, and the somewhat enigmatic Temptation by William-Adolphe Bouguereau and On the Thames, a Heron by James Tissot. I liked Temptation so much that I had a poster of it on my wall at college. There are about a billion artists who have painted the female form, but for my money Bouguereau is one of the artists who really succeeded at presenting the beauty of women. 

Klecko's 100 hours take him through all seasons, and all types of weather. He writes about how the weather affects people's behavior. "In that silence I have watched, thought and deduced that the weather outside impacts how people are going to communicate inside the Institute...it's surprised me that people in the gallery are far less social in the summer...Looking back, it seems to me that the majority of quality conversations have taken place with people in parkas." (p.216) Maybe there's a certain solidarity among people when the weather is bad—we're getting through this together. And in Minnesota, there's no shortage of bad weather. There's a coffee shop I go to a lot to write, and I've learned that what I think about how the weather and attendance will correlate is usually the opposite. If it's crummy weather outside, I think "Oh, it'll be packed today with people getting out of the weather," and then there's no one there. And when it's beautiful weather and I think people will be outside enjoying it, the coffee shop is packed. Go figure. 

This past Sunday, I went to MIA to check out Christus Consolator in person, and to spend some time with Klecko, who has embarked on a new 100-hour project at MIA. We looked at a John Singer Sargent painting of donkeys, we talked about F. Scott Fitzgerald, we looked at Richard Avedon's gorgeous and haunting 1957 portrait of Marilyn Monroe, and we met a new friend who asked if she could eavesdrop on our conversation, and who promptly bought two copies of Exhausting Jesus. 

Exhausting Jesus at the Minneapolis Institute of Art is a wonderful book, one that reminds us of the power of art and what can happen when we look deeply and long at art, in communion with other people. 

Concert Review: Sting at the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis

Sting at the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis, October 14, 2026. (Photo by Mark C. Taylor) 

Sting put on an amazing show Wednesday night at the Orpheum Theatre in Minneapolis. I've seen Sting twice before, once on the Police reunion tour, and once at Myth nightclub in Maplewood. Sting is one of those people who just radiates coolness. On Wednesday night he came out on stage in a t-shirt and black pants and played us his songs for 105 minutes. There were no costume changes. There wasn't even a guitar change until the very last song of the evening. Just Sting, playing his bass with Dominic Miller on guitar and Chris Maas on drums. 

I'm currently reading my friend Klecko's book Exhausting Jesus, which chronicles his journey spending 100 hours staring at a painting of Jesus at the Minneapolis Art Institute. I'm not done with the book yet, but I recommend it. In the book, Klecko references Sting's debut solo album The Dream of the Blue Turtles. It's one of Klecko's top 10 favorite albums, so that made me listen to it again. It's a fascinating album, with a strong jazz feel, songs about Russians loving their children too, and children off on a foolish crusade in 1914 Europe, and a vampire in New Orleans who hates what he has to do. And I thought, "I really like Sting, but maybe he's a bit...well, pretentious sometimes. All these lofty song ideas." I sat with that thought for a while, and then I said to myself, "Hey, if you were a famous singer/songwriter, what kind of songs do you think you might write for an album?" I replied to myself, "Well, I would probably draw some inspiration from novels I've read, artworks I love, the sweep of history, and the current world-wide political situation." "Huh, don't you think that sounds a lot like what Sting did? Maybe YOU might be a little pretentious too." And I concluded that yeah, I might be. So maybe I should cut Sting some slack. And I really like that Sting has reach: he has ambitions, he does different things. He'll randomly get into the music of a lute player born in the 16th century and record an album of his music. I like that, I'll take that over someone who just does the same thing over and over again. 

Sting started the show with "Message in a Bottle," one of the Police's best-known songs, and he encouraged the audience to sing along with him. I have a random memory of "Message in a Bottle" being in a music book that we used in elementary school. I don't remember if we actually sang the song in music class, but I remember seeing "words and music by Sting" and wondering who this one-named person was. 

It's pretty amazing that Sting turned 75 years old two weeks ago, and his voice still sounds the same. He can still hit all of those high, keening notes in the Police songs. I guess all that yoga is good for you. Sting played more of his big hits, "Englishman in New York," "If I Ever Lose My Faith in You," "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic," and the beautiful "Fields of Gold." Sting told us that he lives in a castle about a mile from Stonehenge, and invited us to come over for tea the next time we're in the neighborhood. Just imagine knocking on the door of Sting's castle. "Is Sting here? Yeah, I saw him at the Orpheum in Minneapolis. Balcony, row 4. I was the guy hitting all the falsetto notes. Sting promised to make me a cup of tea if I came over. Okay, cool, I'll just wait for him in the reception room."  

The lighting for the concert was very cool, the lights projected onto the ceiling of the theater, so sitting in the balcony was a fun experience. It was also fun to see Sting in the trio format—of course, the Police were a trio, but you can just hear all the instruments so clearly when there's only three of them. Like Paul McCartney, Sting is inventive and melodic on the bass. 

Towards the end of the show, Sting played some of those classic Police songs from their first album, "So Lonely" and "Can't Stand Losing You." And of course, "Roxanne" during the encore. Those songs are almost 50 years old now, but Sting is still performing them with energy and enthusiasm. Sting is a bit like Paul Simon, who he toured with in 2014 and 2015, where he re-imagines his songs in concert, but he doesn't change them radically. It's a nice approach to take. 

Sting was funny and playful, ribbing Dominic Miller when he muffed the first note of a song. "You've played that song 3,000 times, but you've never played that note before!" Sting laughed. Sting also told Miller to pick the next song. Miller picked "We'll Be Together." I assumed this was a bit that had been worked out beforehand, but looking at Sting's setlist for this tour, Wednesday night was the first time out of 195 performances on this current tour that Sting has played "We'll Be Together," so maybe it was a spontaneous choice. Sting said of the song "It's no fun if we just play it perfectly, it's more fun if we mess it up a little." 

Star Tribune music critic Jon Bream wrote that during Tuesday night's show, the middle section of the concert lagged, as Sting played less-familiar songs and sat down much of the time. I looked at the setlists for Tuesday and Wednesday, and there are some notable differences. I didn't notice any lagging energy during Wednesday night's show. I think Sting just sat down for one song during the middle section of the concert. Otherwise he was quite mobile, as he had a headset mircophone that allowed him to move around as much as he wanted. 

For the final song, Sting sang "Fragile," dedicating it to the victims of ICE in Minneapolis during the Metro Surge operation. It was a beautiful and moving way to end the concert.