We Went Out and Happened to Things

It has been an extraordinary privilege to work with artist Jenn Chemasko. I can't begin to tell you how life-giving her work (and words) have been to my heart since meeting her here a few years ago. Motherhood, discipline, art. Beauty mixed with the ups and downs of life — Jenn masters these elements on canvas and paper, right where she is at, mixed with an often simple, yet profound story to tell. I feel the sweet beginnings of furthering my creativity over twenty years ago. I yearned to lift my camera, and push myself to do more — creating in quiet corners as children slept. Thank you for your love, kindness and friendship Jenn. You inspire me to keep going. ox

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The brilliant mind, keen eyes, and generous heart of Deborah T. Hewitt made this soft collision of color, words, music, and *images a reality. It was she who took the seed of a thought, gave it wings, and pulled it all together. Thank you for inviting me to tea, Deb. Your work and wisdom have truly been an inspiration to me.

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Thank you for joining us for the first installment of We Went Out and Happened to Things. As an extra — above is a video compilation (without our words) to Isao Tomita’s Clair de Lune (1974) with a little surprise at the end. You can also play the music while you scroll below. <when receiving this in email: click on "View entire message">

May your day be blessed with bounty and beauty.

xoxo

Morning misty sprays…

orange blossoms wave to coastal breezes

bursting with color

and lush with verdant life,

turquoise summer in seasons of light, ominous landscapes and hippy cows

under rainbows resplendent over rooftops

and Paul’s Pig Pool Party… we must attend to

from the solitude of silent dreamlands…

precarious scenes in seas of castle-making and bnbs

where the pastel globe meets the pastel sky,

splashes of cadillac deserts, art of reason and thunder at twilight,

separated and put back together before the story is fully told.

Shimmers of dining spaces and evening spirits,

echoes of moonlight where swans don’t sing.

Build us a home that our feet might leave

on paths old soles know and new souls wander, fresh in their first joy of discovery…

where comfortable cats sink into shades of blue with dollops of orange

and everyday objects in solemn friendship live their own secret lives.

Long before us, they came in search of water surrounded by burnt shades of crafted rocks.

We come in search of something more ineffable.

Potters, artists, dancers, hunters, gatherers, earth’s medicine, heart healers..

the slowly eroding past

and colors of the west

indelibly mark my vision, permeate my sight, never to be forgotten.

I am my father’s daughter. My Father…

in His deep and perfect love, bestowed upon us the gift of color…

in all it’s natural glory

and I in mine. “Paint me like a Raphael”... before you go

Goodbye Picasso, and the tree of life who so generously outstretched its limbs, so that we might play.

Goodbye, fleeting evanescence…

And we in vintage flare

anticipate a raucous tea party replete with bandits…

ready for the good old days…

And time, sliced like oranges and devoured; an aromatic peel the only memento of its passing sweetness.

From minute to minute. We waited. We hoped. We lived.

The weight of the world divided into tiny little boxes becomes bearable…

Then Christmas came in shades of blue, dots of red, questions of understanding, games

and the amber glow of joy.

Elves and angels speak our names

enchanting us from the well worn pages of our favorite books.

Children pour sunshine song through the house…

the kind of sunshine that accumulates in raindrops like fruit accumulates in fruit bowls.

Familiar cats wait for brunch

and dreams of home console a weary wanderer.

Roadtrips fill our thoughts…

and we who had hoped for oceans, instead find solace in the loveliness of puddles.

Starbursts, sundials, and sustenance

guide us through table top landscapes, across bridges of whimsy and onward into the dusky twilight.

Seasons of sumptuous conversations where shades of blue turquoise meet orange for tea…

*Images by Deborah, with the majority of artwork, blended with some images, by Jenn — and smatterings of collected art in Deb’s home or photographed on the street.