Dragonfly Gardens - The Mystique Of How Artists Connect

In honor of my dearly departed friend, Susan Smith Evans

When I answered the phone to hear your husband telling me the news of your tragic accident, my mind fought against accepting his words. I listened to Ron and the story he relayed. No! This could not be happening.

And when I called other friends, as he requested, I experienced that endless sorrow wash over me, soaking into the depths of my being.

Going to my kiln later that night I pulled out the newly fired red ceramic dragonflies, still warm from the firing. They glistened in the night and I remember staring at them, wanting to somehow ease my own grief and that of others.

Carefully I strung one with a cord. I knotted the circle of string and placed this transformational one around my neck. These small hand crafted items, created from earth and water, were processed in fire and then brought forth into the air.

I put all the dragonflies on strings, writing your name upon each one:
BELOVED SUSAN

The next day, holding my ceremonial basket, I pulled out these ceramic ones, each wrapped in red tissue paper.
I handed one to each of the women in our artist group who had gathered together to try and make sense of your death.

We talked stories, allowing the words to penetrate into our understanding.
Over and over we spoke of your kindness,
your beauty, your generosity.
We all knew your vast artistic genius.
And you chose to reach out,
touching our hearts and changing our lives.

We wore our dragonflies in your honor

We wore them to your memorial service.
We wore them as we walked the desert cove labyrinth. We walked in your honor while the flowers sang and the butterflies came.

We wore our dragonflies because we wanted to deeply know that your wings are now strong
And you can move between worlds.

These small ceramic tokens were a comfort when there were no words.

Later that month I saw a silk screen print that you had created, years ago. The Dragonfly Garden. Yes, there was the red dragonfly.

The Dragonfly Garden depicted a red dragonfly on a silk screen print. I had never before seen this work and was moved to tears to understand that, under any words, there are deep connections.

Deep in the this realm and on into the next, there you were.

I stood at the gallery, staring, weeping, moved beyond my own ability to explain as this red dragonfly flew between us.

Yesterday I went to the gallery and was gifted with this work.

It had been donated to a center for creativity that you loved and now it hangs on the wall behind my desk.

It is a work soaked in connected expression to other artists that I don’t know how to explain. I look and gaze into this art that extends beyond the paper medium that the print is pressed upon.

My gaze falls upon hands, often depicted in your work.

Over the decades your work has contained hands and the details of nature. In this work there is an onlooker off to the side.

I gaze beyond the ink and the depiction of beauty into the wandering places where there are no words.

I look at the details and the passion you poured out.

I can hear your voice, soft and measured, and here you are, in my home.

Calling us, inviting us, to come deeper in.

This artwork holds a powerful connection that has always been present.

Over and over in my life have I experienced help from both sides of the veil. To say I walk between worlds is nothing new for me. As artists, this expands our perspective.

It reminds us that we are not alone.

We walk in places that exceeds our words and understanding and for me, living in Dragonfly Gardens is a very good place to dwell.