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The title of the volume was inspired by Charlotte Anna Perkins Gilman’s The Housewife.
The10thanniversaryofourprojectissomewhattricky Lastyear,we published our 10th volume on the ninth anniversary because there were two projects in the first year (2015) So, this is our true 10th anniversary,andit’sincredibletohavelivedtowitnessit.
It all began with Cynthia Willett’s remarkable art project where participants were asked to express how we all live under the same ancientskies.Bytheway,theprojectevenjourneyedtospaceaboard the OSIRIS-REx spacecraft and landed on asteroid Bennu! I still find thatmind-blowing.
I loved Cynthia’s unifying and inspiring idea. For a long time, I had been a creator too shy to share my art, poetry, and prose with the world.Cynthiaencouragedme,andIwillbeforevergratefultoherfor that. Following that nudge, I instinctively sensed there might be others out there likeme: eager to create,collaborate, and makethis worldabetterplace,howeverclichédthatmightsound.
They say you don’t choose your family. Yet in 2015, I opened my metaphoricalhome(thethemeofthisedition)tomyclosefriendsby invitingthemtoparticipateinthefirstcollaborativeproject,titledThe Linking Words. Over the years, nearly 90 contributors have become eitherpermanentortemporaryresidentsofthehome,eachleavingan indelible mark and shaping the project into something unique, extraordinary,andinclusive AgnetaMLindhdubbedtheproject“The LinkingWorlds,”andthenameseemssofitting!
Once, an acquaintance condescendingly remarked that the participantswere“theproject’sonlyaudience.”Well,I’mnotsorryto disappointhim AccordingtoIssuu’sstatistics,ourvolumeshavebeen read over 5,000 times, including in countries with no participants, such as Nicaragua, Paraguay, Kenya, Saudi Arabia, Mongolia, and Georgia.
I want to sincerely thank all the participants and readers for the wonderfuldecade!
Magdalena Brzezinska
Elisabeth Granli, Norway/USA
tell me tell me, with your musings and pondering how to build a home, a loving place architects, builders, and interior designing build structure, a dwelling, a pleasant space but a home is a creation from different matter the home is created from a joining of souls mingling and harmonizing their personalities it is living beyond their physical mold creating a history and recalling of stories providing a feeling of affection when retold
Anthony Kolasny, USA
La Donna, Mieke van Os
94 (h) x 74 (b) x 4 (d) cm
acrylic, tempera, marker, wax, varnish on canvas, floating frame in traffic black, ready to hang, 2023
THUIS
I’m coming home hang my coat on the coat rack free myself from my worries look into your eyes attract your love: at home!
At home, where I loose myself in a book, get goosebumps from a song that crawls under my skin. A place where it is nice to be from time to time, to be alone every now and then, where nothing necessary needs to be done, where you feel a close friendship, where the outside world comes in.
At home, where expectations just walk in, without knocking, brazenly, pretending they belong there. Where the day takes you by surprise and spins a web of possibilities and future visions.
At home, where the windows provide a view of the world: an unknown place, a distant city, another country where you can relax on holiday, sit on the edge of a fountain, light a candle for a loved one in an old church, or play a board game in pleasant company. Where you take time to relax, unhurried, in a world where everything and everyone moves.
Essential, Lia Mastrodonato, Italy/Germany
Mixed media, charcoal and acrylic on paper
At home, the word keeps haunting my head, asking: when is something your home?
Why do you say ‘at home’ and not just ‘at my house’? Home is not in the bricks of my house, it’s in my head, in my parents, in my brothers and sister, in my love, in shared history.
At home, the scent of comfort and security, a place with sad and especially happy memories, one that embraces me with warm words, loving moments, own stories and living past, attached to my soul.
At home, it has brought me to where I’m today, wherever life has led me and wherever I’m going. It fills a heart with love, here and now, there and later. That matters, that determines my life, that’s life.
At home, there are so many valuable things in all the days after all these years, even if life bites you in the back for a moment and there are setbacks from time to time.
There is so much encompassed in the word ‘THUIS’ (at home), where time seems to slow down and the world seems to hold its breath, stands still.
Mieke van Os, The Netherlands
Elżbieta Hetman, Poland
Home
Wherever you are
Home is in your own body
An asylum for your private thoughts
An independent means of transport
A solid foundation and cement
A secluded island and a vast ocean
A comfortable bed and a roof over your head
A milky lamp and a soft rug
You give someone a substitute for home
When you smile sincerely
When you notice another person
When you bend over an animal's fate
You carry it inside you for the rest of your life
Share it generously with the address found
In the right person
Iwona Hetman-Pawlaczyk, Poland
Rainbow Palms in Full Acrylic
My Dreamscape Oasis
Beneath the shade of palms that dance, In hues of gold and green are radiant plants, At home I find, though strange it seems, They’re painted in the colors of my dreams.
Each leaf a whisper, soft and low, In pinks and blues that gently glow, The world outside may rage and storm, Yet home, in light, the heart grows warm.
No grand estate with gilded walls, No marble halls where echo calls, But peace, my friend, in every beam, A tapestry of light and sheen.
The wind, a sigh, the air so sweet, Where skies and lakes and heaven meet, In this small grove, my soul takes flight, Bathed in a prism’s soft delight.
So let the world its riches chase, And toil in vain for fleeting grace. For here, beneath these rainbow trees, I’ve found my home, and sweet release.
Artandpoetryby Jim Fleckenstein, Hardeeville, SC, USA
She took her son by the hand and said: it’s you and me. Trust in ustrust is Our Home. Miles and miles down the road, it's still true. Their hearts are their four walls, their hearth and their haven.
I am Alexander Bay. How do you do? I have a story. May I share it with you?
One day all was fine. The next it was not. One day I am free. Now I'm in one spot. Coronavirus with a curve and a spike. It is a long word that I do not like.
My school is all closed. My teachers gone home. I had lots of friends. Now I'm alone. My park was so crowded. I waited to swing. Now it is empty. Not one human being.
I will think for myself. A hard and long thought. When nothing is open. Nothing is bought. What can I do with what I have here. Something will come. It will appear.
Out of the blue, I know what to do.
I am a builder, house building every day. I build houses in the home where I stay. The living room corner today will do fine. You can build a house, too, something like mine.
I am a builder of a blanket house today. How do I do it you might wish to say? The piano is not long. It is quite tall. My house is my size. It is quite small.
I stretch the blanket from piano to stool. It will be my home. It will be my school. A green string holds up the pictures I drew. I drew them myself. You can draw, too.
I am a builder, house building every day. I build a house in the home where I stay.
Yulia Ivanova, Russia
I have my lunch on a mat that is blue. My animals and heroes eat with me, too. Now I am sleeping. Can not move about. Some of me inside, some of me out.
Who will I be tomorrow?
I have a dream. Be a cook. To the kitchen I go with my recipe book. Tomorrow is here. What will I do? I have a dream. I hope it comes true.
Blanket House Building Materials
One blanket
Put over a table or chairs or piano and stool
One long string and safety pins
Pin string to the blanket
Pin art to the string to make the Gallery of Art
Inside the blanket house a pillow and friends of your choice for company. a place to read a place to work on numbers a flashlight if it is dark a place to eat and drink a place to sleep and dream.
Elin
Babcock, USA
Sole Afra Martinez, Argentina
Den in the Stars
The snow-covered den saw the birth of a bear
Warmth and milk, his sleeping mother's love
The small cub was safe and content in heart
All was well in his small snoring home
The cub did not know of the sky or the stars
The den was as cozy as it was dark
Warm spring invites the bears from the dark
Feasts the mother while plays the young bear
He’s learning new skills and to follow his stars
Back rubbing on trees, many new things to love
Sweet honey raided from buzzing bees’ home
He rolls in the flowers and holds one to his snout
Time matures, and so does the hero with a snout
The brave growing bear has no fear for the dark
He quests for a mate, wants to start a new home
With the one of his dreams, the perfect she-bear
The one whose hugs make one dizzy with love
The one whose eyes outshine all stars
Tender moments seen only by the stars
Two bears together, fur pressing on fur
New life finds a beginning in their ursine love
Soon days become brief, nights frosty and dark
Fair twins the drowsy mother will bear
The prospect of cubs adds new meaning to home
Majestic and regal. The whole forest is his home
Soft fern floor, pine walls, the ceiling a canopy of stars
To wander alone is the lot of King Bears
High in the trees are the marks of his claws
He’s sure of his strength. His spirit is wild but not dark
He watches the sunsets over the woods that he loves
Magdalena Brzezinska, Poland
Time reshapes his majesty’s love
Younger bears contend for the throne of his home
He lives in his dreams and they comfort in the dark
The voice of ancient bears calls strong from the stars
Generations of great ones with their eternal paws
The best adventure yet awaits the old bear
He lived true, he loved strong, and gazed on the stars
Bright is his next home as light fills his fond heart
When the night sky is dark, he’s one with the Great Bear
Aki Halme, Finland
A RED-WINDOWED HOUSE
(A fairy tale told to a grandson before going to bed)
“Granny, why does your house have such big windows?”
“To see the whole wide world better, dear.”
“And Gran, why are the doors so wide?”
“To always stay open for friends who wish to visit us.”
“And why do you need such a large oven in the kitchen?”
“To cook hearty meals for everyone, and to keep the house warm.”
“Granny, why are your hands so big?”
“To hold you close, my love, and never let you go.”
Art and poetry by Dąbrówka Ujec, Poland/The Netherlands
Daily song ignites the tender fire anew, weaving wills, tears, and laughter that rise. A mammal’s cradle holds us close and true, a promise of eternal peace, our prize. Why does the valley burn with shadows deep? The echo of our games is lost and hollow, the endless night breaks our trembling feet, under the bitter rain of despair and sorrow. Yet, doubt transforms, filling the earth with signs, soft murmurs and fruits of hope’s embrace, adorning the garden where our courage lies. An endless fountain of wisdom does flow, that at the sacred fire makes us face a truth: live and love, and fear no more.
Artandpoetryby Romina Guerra Alvarez, Chile
Home is where the heart is And my heart is anywhere they are. My small family, my world, my life. Home is a feeling, a need, a shelter. May everyone find home, peace, and love. Wherever and whenever can that be.
Artandlyricalproseby Abeer Hassan, Egypt
Home
Home is where the heart is – they say, But what has such great power? To imprint on us those that lay
As the foundations of our Rootedness?
And are these static? Can they change? Are they chosen or rather found?
Oh, how mysterious, how strange Are the intricacies around Human hearts.
A country? A building? A place? The people who mean for us Acceptance, assurance of peace? Who cherish, value, guide and thus Make us thrive?
It may be some or all of these.
But - however they may appearTheir presence in your life means There’s something you need to hear: You are blessed. 2024
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
2024, Peter Sansom, The Netherlands
Wild tides whip and surge dislocating directions
Homeward routes splinter
Cathy Silk, The Netherlands
We are so small... the world is ours
Artandaphorismby Simona Vasilache, Romania/Japan
Guðný Sigridur Olafsdottir, Iceland
Nowhere Special
I'm a globetrotting nomad. I ain't got no home. If you ask from whence I hail Or what place I call my own, I'll just stare for a moment, Embarrassed and confused, "What's that mean? I dunno what! Can I be ...um, excused?" 'cause the truth is when you say: "home" and "from" Very likely in your brain They are a simple unison. But for me, nothin' doing! Do I have to spell it out? Every stage. Of my life. Parallels. A re-route. And not only that, But the spans in-between... Lay fractured by disruption And a major change of scene. And the cycle to "keep going" Rounds on me every few years; Though I've stayed put for a while now The wanderlust endures.
So with my heart flung in pieces ‘cross the whole wide massive globe, Where I'm “from” doesn't factor, Only where this thought arose: That 'here' are my people! They accept me as I am! I don't fit into their culture; I don't live their social plan. But they greet me with a welcome So sincere I almost cry (which I do, when the time comes, to say that last goodbye).
And I leave with a feeling In my bones identified,
Magdalena Brzezinska, Poland
To be homesickness incarnate, Boiled down and rarefied. It don’t matter that we're different In 'most every sort of way: Color, food, nation and accent, Or to whom or if we pray. What's important is the kindness That they show someone like me Who is homeless in an outland sense, Like one adrift at sea. And my desperate hope for these folks, For I feel as if they’re kin, Is that safety, joy, and comfort reign; Disaster never seen. So when you ask, "where you from?" Watch me smile, for since birth: I ain’t from nowhere special Just a place called Planet Earth.
“Wait awhile,” the kindly Shepherd whispered to the flock.
“One’s gone missing, though I know his path.” Staff in hand, focused, purposeful, to recover the rebellious, proud, stubborn lost sheep, unconditionally loved.
He is surfing the rolling waves on the mighty ocean of his imaginings, sharing with loved ones and friends. Proudly hunched behind the wheel, alert, attentive, confident, dreamer, visionary, sailor extraordinaire Searching …
He is the poet, the writer, the mystic, developer of mind-changing games and workshops, creator of entrepreneurial, potentially life-changing experiences, positive agent of change, idealistic dreamer, strumming melodic sounds, ‘Hello darkness, my old friend,’ on the ‘Streets of London’ Searching …
He is training the masses on the African continent, hungry to learn, listening intently to every word, interacting, laughing, inspired by his knowledge, skills, expertise. Lives enriched, new horizons beckoning, equipped, motivated, challenged Searching …
He is peacefully resting in the African bush with his precious loved ones, marvelling at the wild the beloved, majestic elephants the plethora of feathered friends, the variety of tall ancestral trees,
the winding mountain paths, African dawn, pink sunset skies, starry, starry nights flickering love messages
Searching …
He is reaching out, the servant leader, with a hopeful hand-up to the struggling disadvantaged. Selfless, empathetic, kind and caring, uplifting drifting lives, the captivating, caring smile, authentic, compassionate eyes, encouraging, sharing, giving, giving, giving, wanting nothing in return
Searching …
He is researching, corresponding, robust discussions interlaced with fun times, humour, the life of the party, global communicator, deep thinker, stumbling, controlling, persevering, entrepreneurial, philosophical
Searching …
He is embracing his loved ones, providing, kind, supporting, exploring and extending bonding love, fellow pilgrims, adventurers, travellers, unbreakable familial ties, precious, adored soulmates
Searching …
He is wearily waiting, spent, wandering, wondering, lonely, seemingly lost.
“Ah, there you are, little one,” the kindly Shepherd compassionately whispers, gathering him in His strong, loving arms and taking him home.
Lost, now found.
Robin Cox, New Zealand
Anna Łosińska, Poland
Home is mum.
Her hugs instead of warm plaid, Her smile instead of sunlight, Her voice instead of the alarm clock.
Home is memories. Scents that you remember wherever you are, Sounds that make you feel cozy, Touches that make you feel loved.
Home is the morning tea with milk, Armenian pastry for Easter, Christmas tree with old toys from my childhood...
I don't have all these anymore. Now my home is my solitude, My inner weakness and strength, Now my home is me.
