julia hendrickson
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The "Blue" Couch and How It is Making Me Consider Payne's Grey

7/18/2025

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This summer another color dilemma rose to prominence on social media, the likes of which the internet hadn't experienced since the gold dress of 2015. A woman presented her "blue" couch and asked for some recommendations for other decor. The internet was quick (and kind) to point out that her couch was grey. Surely it's blue, she stated and provided other examples of blue items from her home. They were mostly grey. She took an online color blind test and filmed it. Many colors did not register in her rods and cones. She ended up getting her eyes professional tested to confirm color-blindness and was gifted a new blue couch. 
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Atmospheric River #1, Rainwater and Watercolor on Paper, 22"x30", 2024

​From Winsor & Newton's site "Payne's Gray is a dark blue grey historically made from a mixture of Ultramarine, Lamp Black and sometimes Crimson. It was named after the 18th c. water-colourist William Payne who created the mixture and often recommended it to his students as an alternative to plain black." 

While it is called a blue grey in the description, the titular word is "Gray." This makes me wonder if Mr. Payne had the same kind of colorblindness as the woman with the "blue" couch, who from the comment sections of her videos is not alone in experiencing the world in this way. 

It also made me wonder how many people experince my offerings a grey, not blue. While I recognize that there is variability in this color nine times out of ten it reads more blue than grey to me, especially in person. In photographs it tends towards grey. And all of this brings up color classifications and constructs. How did you learn all of the subtleties of what color is called what? Do you experience Payne's Gray as grey? Do you read it as blue? 
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Identifying Poems

7/17/2025

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As I am preparing for the semester and reflecting on the poems I share with my students, I am thinking about what poems I use as personal identifiers. These are the poems that have fundamentally explained something of my lived experience. 
The Horizontal Line
(An Hommage to Agnes Martin)

By Edward Hirsch 

It was like a white sail in the early morning

It was like a tremulous wind calming itself
After a night on the thunderous sea

The exhausted lightning lay down on its side
And slept on a bed of cumulous sheets

She came out of the mountains
And surrendered to the expansiveness of a plain

She underlined a text in Isaiah:
Make level in the desert
A highway for our God
Every valley shall be exalted
And every mountain and hill shall be made low


The mountain grew tired of striving upward
And longed to flatten its ragged peaks

The nostalgia of a cathedral for the open plain

The nostalgia of a soprano for plainsong

I know a woman who slept on a cot
And sailed over the abyss on a wooden plank

She looked as far as the eye can see
But the eye is a circle—poor pupil--
And the universe curved

It was like a pause on the Bridge of Sighs
An instant before the storm
Or the moment afterward

My friend listened to Gregorian chants
On the car radio as he raced down
A two-lane highway in southern France

I remember riding a bicycle very fast
On a country road where the yellow line
Quivered ever so slightly in the sun

The faint tremor in my father's hand
When he signed his name after the stroke

The beauty of an imperfection

An almost empty canvas turned on its side
A zip that forever changed its mind

From its first pointed stroke
To its last brush with meaning
The glow of the line was spiritual

How the childlike pencil went for a walk
And came home skipping

It was like lying down at dusk to rest
On the cool pavement under the car
After a blistering day in the desert

The beaded evanescence of the summer heat

The horizon was a glimmering blue band
A luminous streamer in the distance

I recited, Brightness falls from the air
And the line suddenly whisked me away

No chapel is more breathtaking
Than the one that has been retrieved
On the horizon of memory

She remembered the stillness of a pool
Before the swimmers entered the water
And the colorful ropes dividing the lanes

Each swimmer was a scar in the blue mist

Invisible bird,
Whistle me up from the dark on a bright branch

It's not the low murmur of your voice
Almost breaking over the phone
But the thin wire of grief
The hum of joy that connects us

Sacred dream of geometry,
Ruler and protractor, temper my anguish,
Untrouble my mind

Heartbeat, steady my hand

Each year she crossed a line
Through the front page of a fresh diary
And vowed to live above the line

She would not line up with others
She would align herself with the simple truth

She erased every line in her notebook but one
Farewell to the aspirations of the vertical
The ecstasies of the diagonal
The suffering cross

Someone left a prayer book open in the rain
And the printed lines blurred
Ink smudged our fingers when we prayed

Let every line be its own revelation

The line in the painting was surrounded by light
The light in the painting held its breath
On the threshold of a discovery

If only she could picture
The boundlessness of God drawing
An invisible thread through the starry spaces

If only she could paint
The horizon without limits

A horizontal line is a pilgrimage

A segment of devotion wrested from time

An infinitely gentle mark on a blank page

The stripe remains after everything else is gone

It is a wisp of praise with a human hand

It is singing on a bare canvas
Questionnaire by Wendell Barry 
1. How much poison are you willing
to eat for the success of the free
market and global trade? Please
name your preferred poisons.


2. For the sake of goodness, how much
evil are you willing to do?
Fill in the following blanks
with the names of your favorite
evils and acts of hatred.


3. What sacrifices are you prepared
to make for culture and civilization?
Please list the monuments, shrines,
and works of art you would
most willingly destroy.


4. In the name of patriotism and
the flag, how much of our beloved
land are you willing to desecrate?
List in the following spaces
the mountains, rivers, towns, farms
you could most readily do without.
​

5. State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,
the energy sources, the kinds of security,
for which you would kill a child.
Name, please, the children whom
you would be willing to kill. 

“Questionnaire” from Leavings: Poems. 




During Lockdown I Let the Dog Sleep in My Bed Again
by Maggie Smith 

Last night my daughter cried at bedtime.
Of loneliness, she said. She’s seen the graph,
the jagged mountain we need to press
into a meadow, and maybe she pictures
the drive home from southern Ohio,
how the green hills flatten without us
doing a damn thing. No sacrifice required.
I tell her the steep peak makes loneliness
our work, makes an honorable task of it.
But I shut myself in the bathroom and cry, hard,
into a hand towel. I walk alone in the snow,
squinting up into the big, wet flakes,
letting them bathe my face. I tell myself
it is a kind of touch. I tell myself it will do.

"During Lockdown I Let the Dog Sleep in My Bed Again" from Goldenrod.
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"Affection" Watercolor and Salt on Paper, 22"x30", 2023
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"Crown-Shy" Watercolor and Salt on Paper, 22"x30", 2024
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"Juxtapose 2" Watercolor and Salt on Paper, 22"x30", 2025

Gate A-4 by Naomi Shihab Nye 
​

​Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning
my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement:
“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please
come to the gate immediately.”

Well—one pauses these days. Gate A-4 was my own gate. I went there.

An older woman in full traditional Palestinian embroidered dress, just
like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing. “Help,”
said the flight agent. “Talk to her. What is her problem? We
told her the flight was going to be late and she did this.”

I stooped to put my arm around the woman and spoke haltingly.
“Shu-dow-a, Shu-bid-uck Habibti? Stani schway, Min fadlick, Shu-bit-
se-wee?” The minute she heard any words she knew, however poorly
used, she stopped crying. She thought the flight had been cancelled
entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for major medical treatment the
next day. I said, “No, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just later, who is
picking you up? Let's call him.”

We called her son, I spoke with him in English. I told him I would
stay with his mother till we got on the plane and ride next to 
her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just 
for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while
in Arabic and found out of course they had ten shared friends. Then I 
thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know
and let them chat with her? This all took up two hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling of her life, patting my knee,
answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemademamool
cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and
nuts—from her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the mom from California, the
lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered
sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookie.

And then the airline broke out free apple juice from huge coolers and two
little girls from our flight ran around serving it and they
were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend--
by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag,
some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country tradi-
tion. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and I thought, This
is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in that
gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—seemed apprehensive about
any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too.

This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.
“Gate A-4” from Honeybee.



It would be remiss to not mention, this week the brilliant poet Andrea Gibson died. Their work is extraordinary, with incisive, emotional rigor they presented experiential tableaus. ​
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What are Humans Doing?

7/2/2025

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I read 100 books in the last three months, bringing the count for this year to 200. These eight books are the standouts for their ability to prompt thoughtful reflection about the role of the observant human in powerful systems. 
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"A Different Kind of Power" by Jacinda Ardern stands apart as a memoir because of its precise balance of personal and professional narrative. Ardern credits working her editor to transfer her speech-writing skills into this format and the skillful handing of the prose is truly what makes this memoir distinct. 

"Death of the Author" by Nnedi Okorafor splices the protagonists life with excerpts from the book they are writing creating overlapping narratives that amplify and question each other. Every Okorafor book prompts different reflections about the role of technology, belief, and human suffering. This one continues exploring and pushing further discussion on these themes.

"The Book of Alchemy" (by) Suleika Jaouad. A collection of creative prompts with keen insights from a variety of authors. If you are uncertain about where your work is going next, I recommend working thru some of these prompts for some space. 

"The Lost Trees of Willow Avenue" by Mike Tidwell utilizes the hyperspecific locale of the authors home avenue to discuss climate change, illness, knowledge, and community action. 

While I fervently disagree with some of the examples used in "The Third Perspective" by Africa Brooke, that precisely gets to to the import of books like this which encourage varied response in the face of opinions that are counter to your worldview. 

I frequently run from devotionals, as they often contain theological points that are not aligned with my belief. And while navigating that nuance is a useful skill in public discourse, private practice can have distinct boundaries. I found "God Didn't Make Us to Hate Us" by The Rev. Lizzie McManus-Dail to be a notable encouraging exception. Progressive and anchored in the biblical text this devotional is a breath of fresh air. 

"Holy Hurt" by Hillary McBride PhD. is required reading for any woman in the church, anyone who loves a woman in the church, and any woman who has left the church. It gives clinical context and thus insight to lived church experience. 

I read "For Whom the Belle Tolls" by Jaysea Lynn after encountering her entertaining TikTok skits about the "Hellp Desk" (a customer service desk in Hell) and was truly delighted by the world construction of this book. Much of what the Contemporary West thinks about hell is derived from Dante's "Inferno". I wonder how much our cultural understanding will shift as a result of this new take on hell?

Honorable mentions: "The Filter Bubble" by Eli Pariser  
                                             "What We Talk About When We Talk About God" by Rob Bell

Review of first 100 books of the year can be found here. 
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Generative Community

6/18/2025

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Mako has begun working in a sketchbook made by my father. He shares about the experince and we reflect on what it is to work with the maculate with community produced materials. This is a profound gift. 
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Proof of Life and the Seasonality of Things

6/16/2025

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I am privileged to be part of generative covid-conscious group comprised of mostly educators. Our group text is filled with proof of life texts in the form of all the growing things we notice in our respective places of residence. This is a global group, so missives from Australia look different than offerings from North America. That being stated, the differences impart wonder. What does it mean to engage with the other from a place of curiosity? How does this practice sustain? How might it be a path forward for our world? 

In addition to the beauty offered by the group text, I live in proximity to an educational garden, where myriad species are cultivated in distinctive ways: desert, jungle, rose, Japanese, Chinese, English. Allow me to share some of those delights with you here, in the form of little edits. Most are constructed using the unfold app and sometimes their templates. Using a template makes me think about the images differently, which is helpful in cultivating a flexible mind.
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Living with Wonder

5/22/2025

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Congratulations Dr. Fujimura! Mako received an honorary doctorate from my alma mater Gordon College. The importance of an artist being granted this kind of degree is cannot be overstated. Mako has guided the Christian cultural conversation about art for decades and this acknowledgment proclaims that to an even larger audience. 
We talk about wonder and community, the interconnectedness of work and thought, and encourage others to make. 
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Richard Serra Helps Me Be A Better Artist

5/6/2025

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Passing thru the lobby, I turned left and gasped as my eyes landed on an unexpected friend. There before me was a comforting and confronting Richard Serra steel form, Band. This continuous bended metal rests gently in the space, forming arcs and encouraging meanders. 
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Patina
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Cave drawing? Graffiti? Tech Specs?
Serra had to seek out alternative production methods to bring his vision to life. He did not settle for a half-way process, instead he found the people were willing to try something different knowing that they might not succeed and worked with them to construct these beautiful monochromatic massifs. They are rich with contrast and presence. These pioneering pieces encourage my own material explorations. They model perseverance. And everytime I encounter one I learn more about the importance of line and balance. 
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Ongoing Conversations

4/30/2025

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In this monthly conversation, Mako and I say things that you have likely heard us discuss before: artists as generous futurists, our ongoing studio work, and how things grow. Repetition of concepts allows for a different kind of conversation, it is the bolstering of ideas, the true formation of culture. 
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100 Books

3/31/2025

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I read 100 books in the first quarter of 2025. These non-fiction books stand out, as idea-shaping and insightful reflections on how humans navigate all manner of experience. Benjamin offers the clearest framework for a future I want to be a part of, while Duke gives some insight into how people move forward with uncertainty. Mabute-Louie offers a case study in community development and Nezhukumatahil reflects on the tastes that shape experience. I highly recommend reading these together, as the antidote to current chaos, as guideposts to positive inclusive action, as a constructive foundation for communal advancement. 

*I reviewed my first 50 reads here if you are interested in some other recommendations. 
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Planting Bulbs as Patronage

3/18/2025

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Mako and I reflect on the importance of community, how planting flowers is a courageous act of patronage, and what it means to create in perilous times. 

Some books I would recommend as companions to this conversation are: 
Unreasonable Hospitality by Will Guidara
The Serviceberry by Robin Wall Kimmerer
Culture Care by Makoto Fujimura
Your Brain on Art by Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross
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©julia hendrickson 2025
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