Susanna Chapman

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illustration for Nashville Chamber Music

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Book design (and doodles!) for You And Me And Him, by Kris Dinnison, on sale in July. Neon Orange Pantone 804!

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illustrations for Patrice Penney’s beautiful initiative, ICARA, which trains caregivers in East Africa to meet needs of children at risk.

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an illustration for Nashville Chamber Music Series, invented by Ben Jones

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My dad visited and took some pictures of the mural I made at Redeemer Fellowship Church in Watertown, MA. These are a first little sampling of them, I am very grateful to have a record of them.

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Logo for Soccer Nights 2015! Kaiti Jones is the most heroic all soccer heroes.

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I made the logo for Harvard's Social Enterprise Conference, or SECON. My idea in the venn diagram logo is that when many different and dynamic people put their heads together, they can arrive at the clearest and best ideas.

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mural making at Redeemer Fellowship Church, way underway, not underwhelming!

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This morning I had exactly 2014 photos in my camera roll. I flicked through to see what I wanted to save — a picture from Hall's Pond Sanctuary in Brookline with Ian — and delete what I didn't — a picture of the brand name on a polyurethane I thought I might buy in June. Now I have fewer photos and stronger memories, since even flicking past photos is like retracing. Last week my mom said ruefully "so much of life is things!" when I gushed about two of my friends who have taken on the minimalist lifestyle. Minimal living must require constant flicking through, assessing, saving mentally what you don't save physically. I am not a minimalist. I have many, many things, but I didn't have any knowledge of William Stafford whom Jeremy Botts mentioned in a Facebook comment. I flicked through a collection of Stafford poems online, beginning with one that starts, "Willows never forget how it feels to be young." William Stafford writes about wind and rivers really well, which makes see with more appreciation the windy and rivery dimensions of life. I also liked this poem called "You Reading This, Be Ready."

Starting here, what do you want to remember? How sunlight creeps along a shining floor? What scent of old wood hovers, what softened sound from outside fills the air? Will you ever bring a better gift for the world than the breathing respect you carry wherever you go right now? Are you waiting for time to show you some better thoughts? When you turn around, starting here, lift this new glimpse that you found; carry into evening all that you want from this day. This interval you spent reading or hearing this, keep it for life — What can anyone give you greater than now, starting here, right in this room, when you turn around? — William Stafford

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In addition to my own Christmas memories, I have some heirloom memories. When my mom was 5 years old and the proxy present-opener of her family, her twin uncles kept rewrapping one gift so she thought her mother had received five pairs of pink fuzzy slippers.

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I have a few favorite running routes around Wheaton I always return to. On visits home I pick one and sink into it like a wheel in a comfy rut. As I pass familiar turns and landmarks, memories ignite of what I was mulling over when I ran that same spot nine years ago, six years ago, last year. With each run I open and add to the time capsule. I don't tend to discuss routes, but today my dad asked me where I liked to run. I told him I'd just come from Lawson Field, which made him smile. "I used to run laps around Lawson Field when I was in college." "That's what I was just doing!" "I'd always run four." "I always run four!" So these pleasing ruts run even deeper than I thought. Now when I see one of my favorite memory-igniters, the old, tall birch tree in Lawson Field, I enjoy the thought that it has accompanied both me and my dad in our mullings, on many occasions, always four glimpses at a time.

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what it really is

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riding today chilled my bones. am warmed to revisit these memories of riding around concord and marblehead this summer. 

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tasty tunes ideas at sovagt.com

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Today I realized the anxious area of my brain is killing two birds with a single mental image. The two birds are a) my memory for anything I read and b) cloud computing. A little mug suspended in the sky, out of reach, can hold a very limited content. I can neither precisely control what I spray at it nor can I empty the mug, but sometimes a few drops of new content drip in and those will be with me probably forever.

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