On an equinox when nothing seems equal, we’re very grateful for the art, videography, poetry, and prose that fill this issue. Our contributors bring their art from Canada, Italy, South Korea, and all regions of the United States, from urban, suburban, and rural locales.
We dedicate this issue to Yvonne Rand (September 23, 1935 – August 19, 2020), who contributed the essay “On Seeing” to the Spring 2018 Issue. Yvonne gives us a profound account of what can happen when we engage deeply with an art form, in her case, a painting by Agnes Martin. Any art form, from literature to music, has this possibility if the artist and the audience are completely present for the experiences of creating and of engaging.
Where I’m writing these late summer days in Santa Cruz on the Northern California coast, not even the dark and light are equal due to wildfire smoke obscuring the sun. The owls seem confused, calling and flying two hours earlier than they usually do here.
In such times of great upheaval in nature and societies, we know we must turn to the deepest resources we have as human beings. We need to drink from the wellspring of balance, of clear-sightedness, of perseverance, of joy, of creative effort to transform what needs to be changed, to make our world better for everyone.
The arts and contemplative practices nourish us from that wellspring. They have been with us from the earliest records we have of human activity—cave wall paintings, carvings of animal and human figures in stone and bone, bone flutes, and polished and incised shells. We can touch the arts now in online words and images, in recordings, in books, and in street art. We can find our own forms to make art. We can engage in our practices of contemplation for insight into how we take action in this world.
And of course, we can find the wellspring in the world of plants and animals. Trees are already showing new growth near my friend’s home that burned in the August fires. The Monarch butterflies in my front garden are still stopping to feed on the milkweed plants before they continue further south or winter over at nearby Natural Bridges State Beach. And the migrant Rufous hummingbirds have returned to join the resident Anna’s in sipping from the scarlet pineapple sage before heading further south.
We hope you’re well and can take the time to enjoy and be nourished by the art and writing in this issue. There is humor, poignancy, power, ecstasy, calm, and beauty to be found.
Carolyn Dille
Founding Editor