Anna Jaap

“Nobody can discover the world for somebody else. 

 Only when we discover it for ourselves does it become common ground

 and a common bond

 and we cease to be alone.” 

― Wendell Berry,  A Place on Earth

Southern Sky, October

One of my cherished possessions is an inscribed volume of poems by Wendell Berry. It is the happy gift of an afternoon walk and an unassuming signboard on a Chicago sidewalk not far from the old Garrett popcorn shop on Michigan Avenue. Reading tonight, the sign said. Wendell Berry. As simple as that. 

First Breath 54x54 acrylic and charcoal
on canvas

Wendell Berry is many things - a poet, a playwrite, a professor, an organic farmer, an unexpected activist. Mark Bittman, lead food columnist for the New York Times, has called him an American hero. A fierce political voice for living in tandem with the rhythms of the land, Berry is passionate about the importance of supporting local economies and small farmers, and believes that community is fundamental to our survival.

That October night, he was a simply-dressed man with an unhurried voice – reading articulate, powerful, unapologetic words underscored with a deep chord of gratitude.  He spoke of the turning of the seasons, of family and old friends, of things to be changed and things to be savored. It was my first real introduction to his work, and I left both humbled and inspired. 

This morning, I am reminded of that evening. My studio looks out on farmland and overnight, in one thick frost, the fields have turned to a silvery sea, broken by purple brambles and curving, still-green blades of grass. It is so impossibly lovely that one heart can hardly hold it.

"All bend

in one wind."

― Wendell Berry, Given

Gratitude is a beautiful place from which to view the world, and to be reminded that we are not alone.

Frost Field, November