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Friday Photo 03.03.23
Fair warning, Friend.
The ride is shorter than it seems.
After the first few hills,
the thrill tapers off.
Then expect lots of bunny hops
up, down, up, down
up, down, up, down
Best to allow for leg room.
And breathing room.
If you have a high-tolerance
for that kind of thing,
you might enjoy an extended ride,
just table any expectations,
and make yourself a little smaller
(if you know what I mean).
Either way, itโs all downhill from here.
Enjoy the ride, though. It’s not bad,
there at the top of the first hill.
It’s exciting and full of promise.
Wheeeeee!
Until the bottom drops out.
Then you have to scramble,
remember where you left yourself,
gather the bits and pieces
from underneath it all.
There’s no refund for time spent,
so salvage what you can:
photobooth memories and souvenirs.
Poem ยฉ2023, Jen Payne
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Friday Photo 02.24.23
It was Rockport, North Shore
right before the fall
that humid, hot July,
the slow seduction
of an afternoon,
swimming and showers
that enticed hours
of love making,
our voracious sprint
for sustenance โ
four courses and wine,
Garth and The Dance
played at the bar
there on Bearskin Neck.
We were finished, even then
and we knew it,
held tight and played pretend
that one last weekend,
love and loss and relief writhing,
Goodbyes consummated
beneath summer cotton,
The End
a visible blur on the horizon
Poem ยฉ2023, Jen Payne
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Friday Photo 02.17.23
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Friday Photo 02.10.23
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Get Your Just Desserts
Get your just desserts and appear
in the next issue of MANIFEST (zine).
We blurred the shape of time,
bent it forwards and back,
twisted it enough to find common ground
there in those early fairy tale days
when I was so astonished by Us I wept
Our movements so in sync
it seemed we were cut from one bolt of cloth
only one stored for a decade or more in a castle
full of favorite old books and songs
and endless stories โ his and mine
and the ones we tell ourselves about Love
and who we are IN Love
But I never thought to look up
see the turrets and towers along the wall,
pay note to the bunker safely guarded,
the pock marks in that common ground,
the mortally wounded specters
who watched their watches
betting on our time
our precious, precious time
I thought the enemy was age
that Loss would come as natural cause and effect, expected
a well-roundedness to its execution
but I was wrong
Loss seeped slowly between the cracks I didn’t know at first were there
forced itself into the weakest places of Us
the way ivy overtakes mortar in a wall
until all that was left was the evidence of time we call Memory.
ยฉ2023, Jen Payne
Categories
Friday Photo 02.03.23
Issue #1 – Thereโs No Such Thing as the Poop Fairy: 5 Things to Remember When You Walk in the Woods
People love the nature preserve where I often walk. Who wouldnโt? Its wide, criss-crossing trails offer welcome views of the woods and ponds and wildlife. Itโs easy to forget that the busiest highway on the east coast is less than a mile away. Itโs easy to forget the busy-ness of life in general โ work and the To Do list and all the other mind clutter fade away when we spend time outdoors.
Unfortunately, as much as people love being out in nature, itโs hard to overlook the general disrespect many show for our protected natural spaces.
Just last week, on a brisk mile walk along my favorite trail, I spotted twelve discarded bags of dog poop. Twelve. Thatโs a poop bag about every 300 steps.
Some are tossed high and land on branches, like decorations. Some are tucked into hidey holes โ knots in trees, crevices between rocks. But most of them are just set down along the side of the trail โ as if someone is going to come by later and pick them all up. Abracadabra!
It makes me want to scream!
The thing is, once you start paying attention to them โ once you start being angry about them โ you start to see other things. The coffee cups, the nip bottles, the COVID masks, the dental flossers. The orange peels and apple cores. The Christmas ornaments and painted rocks, and similar garbage and graffiti.
Thereโs No Such Thing as the Poop Fairy: 5 Things to Remember When You Walk in the Woods was inspired by all of that. It’s a response that offers simple solutions: don’t litter, respect nature and wildlife, don’t leave your poop on the side of the trail.
At the end of the day, there is no magical creature โ winged, wand waving, or white bearded โ who is going to take care of the mess we keep leaving. Itโs up to us.
Get your copy of the mini-zine Thereโs No Such Thing as the Poop Fairy: 5 Things to Remember When You Walk in the Woods today! $3.00 includes shipping.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
Issue #11, Great & Small
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
As we move among the creatures of this planet โ every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth โ one can’t help but think of some greater force at work. Whether you call it God, Nature, or the Universe, come walk with me, meet some of my divine friends, and let’s see if John Muir was right when he wrote โThe clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.โ
INGREDIENTS: appropriation art, ceramic art, collaged elements, color copies, color scans, digital art, ephemera, essays, found art, found objects, found poetry, hand-drawn fonts, laser prints, original photographs, poetry, quotes, watercolor painting. With special thanks to Susan Doolittle and Mary OโConnor, and guest appearances by Ted Andrews, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Walt Disney, John Drysdale, Ogata Gekko, Ed Mazza, John Muir, Richard Scarry, E.H. Shepard, Ben Team, Brian Tomasik, Dr. E.O. Wilson, and Shibata Zeshin.
28-page, full color 5×7 booklet + Inserts and curated Spotify playlist, Cost: $8.00 or subscribe and get 4 issues for $25.00.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
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Friday Photo 01.27.23
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Friday Photo 01.13.23
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Grandmom!
A 100-WORD STORY
Last night I dreamt of my grandmother. She was sitting next to my dad toasting champagne in a luncheonette on Broad Street. You know, the kind with leather stools spinning around a counter and formica tables? I knew she’d be waiting, but the front door was locked, so I found a back entrance, pushed past the steel workers having lunch and ran to her. My heart was so full it felt like I was drowning, swallowing air and love; racing towards that hug that almost knocked us off our feet, her arms as tight as mine, holding on โtil morning.
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ยฉ2022, Jen Payne.ย Photo: John’s Cafe in Portland, Oregon
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Lightning in a January Sky!
JANUARY 11
Their eyes never lost touch.
They sat and talked and laughed for hours.
He reached for her hand as if he had done so every day since they last saw each other.
That familiar feeling surprised them long into the night.
They kissed.
There was lightning in the January sky.
It’s been more than 15 years since that fateful night that changed everything. How did they get there? And what happens next? Find out in WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE: A SORT-OF LOVE STORY, an epistolary novel told through a series of emails, written by Connecticut author and poet Jen Payne.
Itโs a conversation, a memoir, a love storyโฆ
WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE:
A SORT-OF LOVE STORY
by Jennifer A. Payne
Memoir / Creative Non-Fiction
5 x 7, Paperback, 130 pages
ISBN: 978-0-9905651-5-4
$16.00 (plus tax + shipping)
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
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Friday Photo 01.06.23
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NEW! Manifest (zine) #11: Great & Small
Issue #11, Great & Small
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
As we move among the creatures of this planet โ every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and every thing that creepeth upon the earth โ one can’t help but think of some greater force at work. Whether you call it God, Nature, or the Universe, come walk with me, meet some of my divine friends, and let’s see if John Muir was right when he wrote โThe clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.โ
INGREDIENTS: appropriation art, ceramic art, collaged elements, color copies, color scans, digital art, ephemera, essays, found art, found objects, found poetry, hand-drawn fonts, laser prints, original photographs, poetry, quotes, watercolor painting. With special thanks to Susan Doolittle and Mary OโConnor, and guest appearances by Ted Andrews, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Walt Disney, John Drysdale, Ogata Gekko, Ed Mazza, John Muir, Richard Scarry, E.H. Shepard, Ben Team, Brian Tomasik, Dr. E.O. Wilson, and Shibata Zeshin.
28-page, full color 5×7 booklet + Inserts and curated Spotify playlist, Cost: $8.00 or subscribe and get 4 issues for $25.00.
ORDER BY JANUARY 10 and get a free copy of THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS THE POOP FAIRY: 5 Things to Remember when You Walk in the Woods
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
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Spring No More
A 100-WORD STORY
Not that long ago, at mile marker 86.5 near East Lymeโs Pattagansett River, you could pull off the highway into a small dirt turnout, grab a container from your trunk, and fill it to the brim with cold, fresh water pouring from a natural spring. The spring was pretty popular. Youโd always see a car or two parked precariously on the side of the road โ traffic slowing more for the incline of the hill ahead than the waterseekers themselves. Itโs gone now, save for the old turnout, replaced by a cement culvert, its condo complex runoff too foul for thirst.
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ยฉ2022, Jen Payne.
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A Year in Books (2022)
A 100-WORD STORY
Harry Anderson saved my life. At least thatโs what my wide-eyed younger self remembers. The man had a gun, after all. I saw it as he paid for his coffee, hitched up under his arm. I was working the overnight, back when a girl could do that on her own. And besides, the cops watched out for me. Thatโs why I called them. Harry was there in minutes. Dragged the man to the parking lot. Discharged the gun in a moment of midlife bravado that almost got him fired. I never forgot it โ overfilled his apple fritters every time thereafter.
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ยฉ2022, Jen Payne.
The mourning doves are here for the winter,
eight by this morningโs count at the feeder before
eight by their count now on the slight-sagged branch
where they wait out the starlings
with hope there is something left
that galaxy of stars like a black hole
devours everything
leaves morsels for small sparrows at least
who will sneak back later to peck out
their gratitude in code on the frost
I read it sometimes, their code of thanks,
wonder if they know I timed it โ
spread seeds as soon as the doves arrived,
before the stars descended with the moon
made myself large by the side door
a warning, a warrior
let them have their take, those eight
grief is a hungry thing
even the weeping is enough to lay a table bare
Poem ยฉ2022, Jen Payne. Photo by Jennifer Snyder, Project Feederwatch
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Friday Photo 12.16.22
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Surprising Gift Idea (+ video)
MANIFEST (zine)
Consider a Gift Subscription. Itโs a
one-of-a-kind gift idea for the holidays!
Imagine a magazine thatโs like a mini art installation. Each issue is filled with unexpected images and creative rabbit holes, poetry, quotes, a curated Spotify playlist, and so much more!ย
$25.00
Gift subscriptions include a custom holiday greeting/gift acknowledgement and four printed issues of MANIFEST (zine) starting with the Winter 2023 issue,ย Great & Small.
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Friday Photo 12.09.22
On Friday, with only three weeks left to go before Christmas, I stopped at my local CVS for laser paper. Itโs a little more expensive there than at Staples, but itโs a shorter walk, and I like to save my steps for walking in the woods and not the big box stores.
Standing in line with my laser paper and a mini Panettone โ itโs the holidays after all โ I realized I was going to be waiting a while. There was a long line, one open register, and a family having a serious discussion with the cashier:
Can we use this coupon? (No.)
How about this one? (No.)
Is this eye pencil sharpener on sale? (No, itโs the other one, with the case.)
Canโt you apply the sale to this one? (No.) (Did you want the lip balm thatโs on sale?)
Oh yes. Hold on. Let me run back and get that.
The laser paper was getting heavy, and I almost dropped the mini Panettone. Plus I was hot now โ and a little annoyed โ and since the only other cashier was busy putting out the Valentineโs Day candy, I decided to leave.
Not huffy leave. Or angry leave. Just put down my things and move on to the next errand leave, practicing my best versions of Surrender and Acceptance.
Truth be told, I ended up having to do the same thing at the post office 10 minutes later. No big deal. I wasnโt in desperate need of laser paper (or that Panettone), and the letter I was mailing could post on Monday.
Since Iโd saved all of that time not waiting in lines, I headed across town to one of my favorite places to walk. A trail that winds across a marsh, and up through the woods to an overlook with views of Long Island Sound and a monument to poet Jennie Vedder that reminds:
I would be one with Earth again,
and grieve not as the seasons pass,
but joyous in the pulse of grass,
exultant with the beat of rain.
I would be one with Earth again,
one with her joy, one with her pain.
It was such a pretty almost-winter day. Sunny with a nice chilly breeze. Quiet except for some lingering gulls and the Amtrak heading to New York. Perfectโฆmarred only by the Festering I was still doing about the holidays, the lines, the people at the register back at CVS.
Then a little inner voice yelled: STOP!
You went to all that effort finding your Zen spot; you made decisions to leave the things that were not serving you; and here you are full-up with thoughts about those same things. STOP!
The thing is, we all have that choice every day. Do we sit in the muck of thoughts about this or that, or do we move on about our business? Get our shoes stuck down in the mud or walk around the edge and move forward?
But Iโm not perfect, and mind-control is not my forte whatsoeverโฆso I found that Festeringโs thoughts kept trying to find their way back in again. You know, sort of in that same way your thoughts push through your moments of Meditation? Zen then Me! Me! Me!ย Zen then Think Over Here! Think Over Here!
So we all sort of walked together for a whileโme, my thoughts, the folks in line at the post office, and the family at CVS. Until I lost site of the family, and the post office line dissipated. My thoughts wandered off about a new writing project, and there I was โ alone at last! Me and my Zen, again.
There is nothing like a walk in the woods to chase away the pesky thoughts. To reconnect you with Here and Now. To show you the way to Grace and Gratitude. And Zen.
ยฉ2022, Jen Payne
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Creative Gift Ideas
A Gift Subscription to MANIFEST (zine)
is a one-of-a-kind gift idea for the holidays!
Itโs like sending a mini art installation that features interesting images and creative rabbit holes, quotes, poetry, a curated Spotify playlist. Layered with colors, textures, meanings (and music), the result is a thought-full, tactile journey with nooks and crannies to discover along the way. Gift subscriptions cost $25.00 include a custom holiday greeting/gift acknowledgement and four printed issues of MANIFEST (zine) starting with our upcoming winter issue, Great & Small.
MANIFEST (zine)
Visit our Etsy Shop to order individual issues as gifts or stocking stuffers. Each costs $8.00, which includes some cool extras and shipping. (Each Etsy listing includes a sneak preview video.)
Our Books
Perfect for the book lover in your life, consider giving a book from Three Chairs Publishing. Each comes signed by the author with a few creative extras.
Donโt Miss Holiday Expo!
Looking for a festive shopping experience? Then be sure to visit the Holiday Expo at Guilford Art Center (411 Church Street, Guilford). Youโll find many of our Three Chairs Publishing creations on display, along with ceramics, pottery, glass, jewelry, homewares, fiber art, ornaments, accessories, toys, specialty foods, stationery, leather goods and more. More than 200 American artists, makers and designers are featured in this yearโs event. Click here for more information.
Thank you for your support!
Just like shopping local during the holidays, shopping at Three Chairs Publishingโs online shop has ripple effects. Your purchases help to support the women-owned printing company that prints our books, the locally-owned print shops that print our marketing materials, and the U.S. Postal Service which reliably delivers our products to your doorstep. You also help the self-employed editors, proofreaders, typesetters, artists, and tech support folks who help turn my ideas into things I can put into your hands to enjoy.
๏ปฟFor all of that, and your continued support of my creative work, thank you. Happy Holidays! โ JEN PAYNE
When sleeping with a bear
it is critical to pay attention to the breath โ
his and yours.
His will tell you when it is safe
to muck about in dreams
and when it is time
to curl up and play dead.
Death
in this case: to feign sleep
is a practiced thing
slow deep breath in
slow deep breath out
slow deep breath in
slow deep breath out
Most nights, heโll forget his hunger
and roll over โ you pray
hands clasped around your knees
making yourself small
a burr in the blanket and of far less importance
than himself and his sleep.
ยฉ2022, Jen Payne
There are tractor marks in the rabbit warren,
that sweet spot on the path where the
bittersweet and grapevines arbored the trail,
where the sounds of commerce faded just enough to hear
the rabbits waiting for you to pass.
Itโs bulldozed wide, now four-persons across
nevermind the rabbits
or the winter sparrows who found refuge there
or the jays who loved the grapes
or the pileated whose only recourse
is to tap out an S.O.S. on a nearby dying ash
Theyโre building infrastructure in the woods, you see
plowing back desperate saplings,
piling debris where the wild asters grew
flattening out the turtlesโ fertile slopes
laying instead their misplaced traprock paths
and sweet-smelling lumbered bridges
giving us more room to tramp about
another ingress marked by colored flags
nailed deep into the skins of trees
Tell me pleaseโฆ
Will the rabbits find sanctuary before the snow?
Were the turtles buried alive?
Do the trees weep before the hammer strikes?
Poem and photo ยฉ2022, Jen Payne
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Chronos Weeps
What happened to the shape of days?
The slow unfolding of dawn, the clear delineation of time โ beginning, end, respite
that marked space for pursuits of gods โ Hypnos, Eros, Hephaestus. (Though rarely in that order.)
Our haloed mechanisms godlike now โ omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Hey Siri: Who is Hephaestus?
And so we worship false gods, bow down to their divine scheme,
keep talismans close at hand for fear to miss their callings
their new demands of sacrifice โ silence, sabbath, solitude.
I fear they’ve killed Atlas, too, left our world spinning
without the stars to guide us,
without the sun and shadow, our shape of days
and time.
Poem ยฉ2022, Jen Payne. Photo by Scotch Mist, Head of Sculpture of Chronos in Knights’ Hall of Royal Castle, Warsaw, Poland.
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Thank you.
This past year has been a whirlwind for my little publishing imprint, Three Chairs Publishing. In February, I published my fourth book, Water Under the Bridge: A Sort-of Love Story. It kicked off with a warm welcome at the Guilford Art Center on Valentineโs weekend, and was featured by the Independent Book Review as part of โ45 Books Weโre Excited About from Indie Presses & Indie Authors.โ
Close to my heart has been my zine project, MANIFEST (zine). I created five issues this year โ Water, Endemic, Heroically Found, and The Lola Poems โ each with a different tone and theme. I think thatโs what I love most about the zine format. It allows my creative voice to speak its peace โ maybe loud, maybe sweet, maybe rambling โ hopefully always interesting.
Participation in THE EXCHANGE this past fall introduced my work to a new audience, as did a mention in the 25th anniversary issue of Broken Pencil magazine and reviews by Ken Bausert and Silver Nyx. My writing was included in Sunspot Literary Journalโs Geminga 2022 Contest for Tiny Prose, Poem, or Art, the Connecticut Bards Poetry Review 2022, and the Poetry Instituteโs zine Circumference. Good stuff, right?
This Thanksgiving, I find myself thinking about good stuff like that, and about all of the people who have supported my work in 2022โฆfrom my regular zine subscribers and the folks who bought my books, to the staff at the Guilford Art Center and the Blackstone Library.
I would be remiss if I didnโt mention the ongoing influence of my friend and mentor, author Dale Carlson, who passed away in January. And I am ever grateful for my ongoing creative conversations with Judith Bruder, Tara Buckley, Joy Bush, Laure Noe, and Mary OโConnor.
If youโre reading this, I am grateful for you, too! I could not do what I do without your kind and generous audience. Thank you.
With love and wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving!
โ Jen Payne โ
A lone osprey circles in the near-winter sky
bides time with the resident gulls
and wonders at the familiar landscape
now gone foreign
The sudden slow change went unremarked,
the memo of departure mislaid,
and communal cues misread
For wont of thermals, aloft now on fortitude alone
it flies along the coast โ searching maybe
or reeling in the easy, quiet solitude
a spin, swoop, spiral dance
Perhaps both, like me โ
a jubilant embrace belies
the ache of cold, empty air.
Poem ยฉ2022, Jen Payne
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Friday Photo 11.11.22
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Friday Photo 11.04.22
New Haven, CT by Jen Payne
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Friday Photo 10.28.22
New Haven, CT by Jen Payne
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Friday Photo 10.21.22
New Haven, CT by Jen Payne
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Friday Photo 10.07.22
New Haven, CT by Jen Payne
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Looking for something to read?
I am always inspired by those life moments that move us most โ love and loss, joy and disappointment, milestones and turning points. When Iโm not exploring our connections with one another, I enjoy writing about our relationships with nature, creativity, and mindfulness, and how these offer the clearest path to finding balance in our frenetic, spinning world.
Very often, my writing is accompanied by photography and artwork. As both a graphic designer and writer, I think partnering visuals and words layers the intentions of my work, and makes the communication more palpable. I hope you will agree!
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Banned Books Week 2022
Issue #10, The Lola Poems
โI have lived with several Zen masters โ all of them cats,โ writes Eckhart Tolle in his book The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment. โWatch any plant or animal and let it teach you acceptance of what is, surrender to the Now. Let it teach you Being. Let it teach you integrity โwhich means to be one, to be yourself, to be real. Let it teach you how to live and how to die, and how not to make living and dying into a problem.โ
THE LOLA POEMS is a limited edition, memorial issue of MANIFEST (zine) that honors the passing of my own little Zen master, Lola, by considering the lessons she taught me in our time together.
16-page, 4.25 x 5.5 booklet, Cost: $8.00 or subscribe and get 4 issues for $25.00.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
I want to be the one
who sharpens the tiny pencils
tucked neatly in the cubby
next to the Library’s
digital card catalog.
They are all that’s left
of the long wooden drawers,
their well-worn finger pulls,
the alphabet instructions:
how to get from here to there.
The tap-tap-tap machines
have replaced the tactile cards,
the rhythm of sorting,
the meditations of
this simple space where
The clocks tick
and pages turn
motes settle
on memories
and there at my fingertips
as close as those pencils
he appears, my age now
this young or this old
I do not recallโฆ
except for the moment
he said I want to be the one
who punches the clock,
works from here to there
and nothing more
nothing more
after giving so much more
for so long
but it was too late
for anything else
or anything more
than that beautiful secret
said out loud
this young or this old
I do not recallโฆ
his whisper of a wish
the change of heart
frozen in time as
The clocks tick
and pages turn
motes settle
on memories
and now I want to be the one
who punches the clock
or sharpens the tiny pencils
or something quiet and simple
so very simple
for whatever time I have left.
ย
Categories
The Sense of Grief
Akin to the โjust a bad dreamโ trope, my sense of grief is this: something has gone dreadfully wrong with the Universe and if I just do this ONE THING, it will all revert back to normal. One sees this frequently in science fiction and fantasy films โ the heroine on a quest to find a key, a portal, a magical lever that will right the wrong. Not unfamiliar with a strong work ethic, I slip easily into the task. And the expectation. Anticipating that each effort, no matter how small or insignificantย โ an action as simple as opening a door even โ may be that ONE THING. Now? Itโs fleeting of course. The hard weight of reality always presses firmly on sweet hope. At some point, you accept the new way of being, that empty empty space, but not without the occasional beautiful moment of Now?โฆ weeks, months, years later.
ยฉ2022, Jen Payne
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Sleeping on Arch Street
Aย 100-WORD STORY
I slept on a cot near my grandmotherโs bed in a room that smelled like eucalyptus. The aluminum frame squeaked when I moved, despite my small size and efforts to keep quiet. My grandfather slept in the adjoining room, his presence as unnerving as the Jesus portrait on the wall. The story goes he woke her once with a pitcher of water, threw it on the bed so she’d make his breakfast. I wonder if the train whistle ever disturbed him, pulled him down the tracks to the steel mill, back to the stacks and hot slag where he belonged.
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ยฉ2022, Jen Payne.
Issue #9, Heroically Found
Taking its theme from the William Butler Yeats poem โA Crazed Girl,โ HEROICALLY FOUND considers how we improvise as we go along โno matter what disaster occurred,โ finding balance, like the crazed girl, in โher music, her poetry, dancing upon the shore.โ Quoting from a variety of spiritual and creative sources, HEROICALLY FOUND posits that the way to find equilibrium in these challenging times is through mindful presence โ a meditation that opens our hearts and minds to art, to poetry, and to unexpected blessings. For writer Jen Payne, those blessings often include creativity, inspiration, and beautiful rays of insight revealed during her walking meditations in the woods and along the shore. Come along and see what you can find yourself!
INGREDIENTS: appropriation art, collaged elements, color copies, color scans, colored markers, digital art, ephemera, essays, found art, found objects, found poetry, hand-drawn fonts, handmade rubber stamp art, ink jet copies, land art, laser prints, original photographs, poetry, and quotes. With gratitude to Keri Smith and guest appearances by Dale Carlson, Joseph Cornell, Ami McKay, Charles Simic, William Butler Yeats, and more!
Special thanks to the James Blackstone Memorial Library in Branford, CT for its support of MANIFEST (zine).
24-page, full-color 5×7 + inserts, Cost: $8.00 or subscribe and get 4 issues for $25.00.
MANIFEST (zine): Heroically Found is part of THE EXCHANGE, a statewide Connecticut Artist Treasure Hunt on view, August 15 โ November 1, 2022 (rain or sun). It includes GPS-tracking, QR codes, and adventuring to 15 unique public art installations by 23 participating artists. The designated sites can be accessed through a map with GPS coordinates found at www.SomethingProjects.net.
You can pay through PayPal using a PayPal account or any standard credit card. If you prefer the old school approach, please send your check, made payable to Jen Payne, P.O. Box 453, Branford, CT 06405.
I am psyched to be part of THE EXCHANGE, a statewide artist treasure hunt happening in Connecticut from now until November 1! CLICK HERE for an interactive map, GPS coordinates, and video clues from all of the artists!
SomethingProjects is launching its first project, a statewide Connecticut Artist Treasure Hunt called THE EXCHANGE, on view daily, August 15 โ November 1, 2022 (rain or sun). It includes GPS-tracking, QR codes, and adventuring to 15 unique public art installations. The designated sites can be accessed through a map with GPS coordinates found at SomethingProjects.net beginning August 15.
Get ready for an adventure! Plan your outing to visit the many exciting projects in which the public is invited to engage in fun and meaningful ways in the towns of: Beacon Falls, Branford, Bridgeport, Darien, Easton, Fairfield, Hamden, Hartford, Meriden, New Haven, North Haven, Washington Depot, and Waterbury. Learn about these artists selected from your community by participating in the act of discovering what they have created to exchange with you.
THE EXCHANGE ARTISTS
Jeff Becker, Easton
Meg Bloom, New Haven
David Borawski, Hartford
Susan Breen, Bridgeport
Joy Bush, Hamden
Susan Clinard, New Haven
Jennifer Davies, Branford
Sierra Dennehy, New Haven
Ellen Hackl Fagan, Darien
Crystal Heiden, Milford
Allison Hornak, New Haven
Fritz Horstman, Bethany
Joe Bun Keo, Vernon/Rockville
Judith Kruger, New Haven
Susan McCaslin, New Haven
Bailey Murphy, Meriden
Adam Niklewicz, North Haven
Jen Payne, Branford
Roxy Savage, Fairfield
Max Schmidt, Meriden
Rosanne Shea, Waterbury
Kim Van Aelst, Hamden
Jo Yarrington, Fairfield
ABOUT SOMETHINGPROJECTS
In 2022, longtime friends and artists, Howard el-Yasin and Suzan Shutan decided to partner and launched SomethingProjects: a nomadic and provisional space providing short-term exhibitions that dually highlight artists as well as introducing communities to new viewpoints and practices by state, regional, national and international artists. As an incubator for ideas it encourages artists to step outside their boundaries and experiment with the intersection of materials, production, presentation and means of engagement with audience and space. Their locations will change, and offer site-specific opportunities. For more information about SomethingProjects and THE EXCHANGE, visit www.SomethingProjects.net.
Supported by the Connecticut Department of Economic and Community Development, Connecticut Office of the Arts, which also receives support from the federal ARPA.
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The Pond is Quiet Today
**CAUTION** DO NOT USE WATER FOR THE FOLLOWING PURPOSES: SWIMMING AND OTHER WATER CONTACT, FISHING, IRRIGATION, LIVESTOCK WATERING, DRINKINGโฆ
Did the green heron see the sign?
Or was he given advanced notice
to vacate his perch on the east side of the pond?
As he left, did he call out to the wood duck brood and mallards?
Warn the turtles, frogs, fish?
โItโs only moderately toxic they say, but I donโt want to take chances.โ
(Would you?)
The swan keeps a 40-foot distance, wonders if the chemical floats downstream, wonder if itโs as harmful as the turtle who snapped up her babes last spring.
The northern water snake who often skims across the pond knows not of half-lifes or bioaccumulations.
Nor will the field mouse debate the meaning of practically non-toxic with the bees who remain.
ยฉ2022, Poem & Photo by Jen Payne
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Upon the Death of a Friend, 1986
Of course you were the one to call. It was late, I remember, a rainy night like the last time we met. Cars on the wet, weathered pavement, wipers marking time. Starshine in puddles and you, light years away, saying you knew Iโd want to know, knew heโd been important. You knew despite the distance in our orbits, despite our final kiss that birthed a galaxy between us. My heart. You knew.
Poem ยฉ2022, Jen Payne. Image: Mark Plรถtz.
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Summer Song at 4 a.m.
Lone Seagull
due east of the
Bell Buoy at Mermaid Rocks
is background vocal for
katy-did
katy-did
katy-did
she-did
and the
cicada cricket
chorus
while the frog
in the marsh
sings solo tenor
only
interrupted
by the
footsteps
of a deer
so I,
barefoot too,
ask her:
do you hear
the sound of stars?
Poem ยฉ2022, Jen Payne
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Subscribe to Manifest (zine) today!
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Now that you know about zinesโฆ
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Swan Song
The swan has lost her mate,
so I wade ankle-deep in the
shallow pond and
with breath like water
crossover
lie child pose
in her nest
surrogate heart
close to her side
and whisper
Far away, there once
lived a king
who had eleven sons
and one daughterโฆ
Poem ยฉ2022, Jen Payne. IMAGE: The Wild Swans, illustration by Joseph Smith, Tales from Hans Christian Andersen, 1965.
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Want to Know More About Zines?
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Preview: Cat Lady Confessions
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MANIFEST (zine): Cat Lady Confessions
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Zines Should Be Treasured
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Hold-in-Your-Hand Art Installations
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What is MANIFEST (zine)?
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I wanna publish ‘zinesโฆ
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But I Love The Zine
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Preview: Itโs About Time
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MANIFEST (zine): Itโs About Time
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4 a.m. and I am one a part of all
Are those fireflies
come to join my meditation
or all the stars
a constellationย
above the grass
as waves crash
in a quiet ebb and flow
of breeze
that catches in trees
ย ย ย ย and that?
a soft bowl chime
Rinpoche
reminds
or the bell buoy
just offshore
marking time
and breeze,
the tease
of stars
Poem ยฉ2022, Jen Payne. Image: Nicholas Roerich, Star of the Hero.
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Girl, Cat, Fish
Some days, I feel like the girl in the tub with the fish in the comedy show hitting so close to home but so far out in left field that eating popcorn while I watch doesn’t seem nearly as awful as eating chicken wings during an episode of Criminal Minds. Me and my dying cat curled up on the floor, my hand stroking her tail โ and only her tail because otherwise she thinks I’m about to stick another pill down her throat and sheโll run to hide from me. Itโs a terrible thing when a part of your heart runs and hides from you, but I donโt blame her. She likes me best now in the mornings, too tired and stiff for any chase. Instead we curl up, like the girl and the fish in the tub, floating there in the early morning hours as if nothing will ever change.
ยฉ2022, Jen Payne. Scene from Huluโs Life & Beth.
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3 Chairs at Quimbyโs in Chicago!
3 Chairs at Quimbyโs in Chicago!
When I come back in my next life I want to be an artist AND I want to work at Quimbyโs in Chicago. Quimbyโs is an independently owned bookstore that sells independently-published and small press books, comics, zines and ephemera. They favor the unusual, the aberrant, the saucy and the lowbrow โ and they are super enthusiastic about what they do!
Since Iโm not dead yet, then I just have to enjoy Quimbyโs vicariously through their website and weekly โNew Stuff Saturday Livestream.โ Check it out!
BONUS: If you watch the recent New Stuff Saturday and stay tuned to timestamp 20:20, youโll notice a couple of familiar things in the pile: Manifest (zine) and Evidence of Flossing: What We Leave Behind.
Thatโs right, as of now, several of Three Chairs Publishingโs creations are for sale at Quimbyโs. Get your butt to Chicago nowโฆ
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Preview: Crickets
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MANIFEST (zine): Crickets
Now that youโve been learning about zines all month, are you thinking of making your own? On her website on โHooked to Books,โ Grace Plant suggests How to Make a Zine in 10 Easy Steps: Decide on your theme Choose a name Plan your features Choose a format Use a template Print a master copy [โฆ]
How to Zine โ Three Chairs Publishing
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Preview: Refuge, A Quarantine Zine
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Preview: Lexicon Zoom
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MANIFEST (zine): Lexicon Zoom
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A Brief History of Zines
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Preview: Water
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Iโll Be Right Backโฆ
I have a confession to make. For the past six months, I have been disappearing down a rabbit hole, crawling to the backside of the wardrobe, hitching a ride on a tornadoโฆand making my way to the empire of Une Belle Ville.
It started innocently enough โ my nephew on his tablet in the backseat on our way home from an adventure.
โWhatโs that?โ I asked, hearing huzzahs and sing-song chimes.
โForge of Empires,โ he said.
โA video game?โ
โYea, itโs cool. You build a city by collecting resources and building an army. Iโm in the Stone Age still.โ
When we got home, we sat on the couch together and he showed me his city. Just a few random huts, some dirt trails, an obelisk โ but it had me at sing-song. So I loaded it on my iphone and away we went, my nephew and me sharing our cities and achievements.
โIโm in the Iron Age!โ he announced.
โMe, too!โ
โYou caught up with me. I have three archers!โ
โI built a fruit farm!โ
We went on like this for a few weeks, comparing notes as we played dueling technologies. And then one day, I started hearing zap-zap-zap and kaboom instead of huzzah and sing-song, sing-song.
โWhat age are you in now?โ I asked, curiously.
โIโm playing Minecraft.โ
โNot Forge of Empire?โ
โNo. It was too boring. This is better, seeโฆโ
And so our paths diverged. He and his kabooms went one way, and I skipped along with my huzzahs from the Bronze age straight on through to the Industrial.
Ok, maybe it seems a little silly. Itโs also one of those nefarious escape mechanisms that gets you strung out on dopamine. ย But given the state of the world (and the state of my family of late)? Iโm all in for an extra hit of dopamine thank you very much.
The funny thing is, my city โ Une Belle Ville โ is exactly the kind of place Iโd like to spend my time if the rabbit hole jumping, wardrobe crawling, tornado clinging thing actually worked. My fellow villagers and I rank high in enthusiasm and participate happily as members of the local Guild. We trade instead of battle, we polish instead of plunder, we explore the world and give aid when we can. We have lots of trees and gardens, a rosarium and a butterfly house. Thereโs a mountain preserve, a Celtic farmstead, and a vineyard. We can see the Oracle of Delphi, the Arc de Triomphe, the Lighthouse of Alexandria, Notre Dame, and a Statue of Zeus all in an afternoonโs walk. We can visit the zoo, laugh on the ferris wheel, take a hot air balloon ride, or climb the steps of the Observatory to see the stars.
So far, Iโve built a paper mill, am working towards a print shop, and look forward to the day I can build a library for my city, because we all need books, donโt we? Those other things that give us a beautiful out, an โIโll be right backโ excuse to leave the 21st century messes and remember whatโs possible with a little bit of imagination and some escapism-flavored dopamine. Huzzah!
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MANIFEST (zine): Water
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