When we first started the conversation with artist Karen Gearhart-Jensen back in May as leaves were bursting from sleepy wintery vines and grape clusters were blooming, I found extreme solace in walking the quiet vineyard rows, full sun warming my exposed face, inhaling unobstructed deep breaths. After two months of lockdown I already knew the words I wished to never hear again: pivot, new normal and lockdown being the first in a long list. As an eternal optimist, I have always sought unique paths to achieving a desired goal when all other options seemed blocked. It is generally never the easiest way nor the most efficient or productive, though it is mine. I can follow the arrow even when it is crooked, dodging trees in the forest. The clearing is always just around the ridge.
I was seeking connection in ways that I still don’t fully understand, and honestly haven’t had the time to reflect on. Initially in mid- March, I thought people would never buy wine again. A luxury product in a time of crisis? Alone in the tasting room day after day I called members, concerned about our collective welfare. News outlets and social media were and are constantly providing simultaneously too much information and not enough. How are you all personally, I wondered, beyond the noise. We were in our spring wine club season and it felt callous and insensitive to run business as usual and send shipments without asking permission, even though by joining the club you’ve authorized us to do so. I was racked with doubt and disbelief. Do you still want us? Do you still like us? Wait, what? You want us to double your order? You are so excited for your shipment? And you want to send wine to your friends?
I never take anything for granted, which is why I don’t save wine for special occasions. I actively work to secure your trust and support every single day. I am completely aware that this time has been devastating for millions of people, and not just in stats and figures, many of whom I know personally. I know you do, too. I am speechless at it all, which is not often the case. And I am hopeful, too, which is what winemaking forces us to be. The vines grow whether we bother them or not. The sun shines with or without us documenting its cycle in a perfect arc. Together they create a magical energy that produces abundance for us to share with each other when we weren’t even watching. How poetic and profound is that?
When I asked Karen if I could commission her to collaborate with me on Documenting Harvest 2020, the initial goal was to have a massive art showing this winter at the winery for our wine club, displaying all the works next to the grapes and the wines they reference so we could all gather in a collective sigh of relief at being able to embrace and enjoy togetherness once again. I told you I
am an optimist. The art show will happen when appropriate. Not a special time, just the right time. As these pieces came together, I asked Karen to create whatever mood struck her. There were no parameters besides expressing the joy and gravity of life in front of us. I gathered foliage, stems, tiny clusters and other vineyard objects, placed them in bags with water and left the bundles on her front porch for her to handle whenever she felt comfortable. We repeated this exercise a number of times. She produced artwork at a thrilling pace. To see the results of what I was feeling translated through someone else’s lens has been achingly poignant. Each time I study them the more humbled I become. When I was presenting a few pieces during one of our Art in the Park sessions a few weeks ago someone asked, “Why do you want to show us these things and bring us in so intensely?”
I was stunned at the question. Wasn’t it obvious? Though why would it be if I didn’t know either? I realized maybe we were speaking different languages. She came to drink wine and connect with friends. I wanted to talk about the meaning of life. I felt foolish for a second, then thought, this is all about the meaning of life. The wine, the friends, the art. This is exactly the reason. “That’s a great question,” I answered. “One I don’t have an answer for just yet, though I will, maybe, one day soon.”
Sonja Magdevski
To follow Karen: @relatingtonature
#documentingcasadumetzwines2020