This post is not about tomatoes - Jéferson Diogo de Oliveira Santos
- nonaorbach
- May 28
- 2 min read
Updated: May 29
The crickets sing a melody that indicates that night is coming. There is a constancy, as if breathing were permanent, keeping the music of twilight uninterrupted. I have my feet on the ground, feeling the freezing temperature of almost winter, as if Mother Earth were blowing her fresh breath on the soles of my feet.
In the backyard of my family's home, where I lived until two years ago, there are vegetables and legumes growing next to rose bushes and other flowers. The yard is next to a small forest, right in the middle of a small historic town in the south of Brazil.
In this sacred space where part of my family lives, food and flowers growing. My mother has what they call a “green fingers” - everything she plants grows exuberantly.
My mother has a unique way of planting. She listens to nature and, intuitively, spreads seeds on the ground. The result is a profusion of plants living in harmony. Looking from afar, everything seems chaotic.
But... When we spend a few minutes in this space, with our feet on the ground, we notice the harmony and the small ecosystems that live there. The scent of aromatic herbs mixes with the roses and lilies in bloom. The birdsong echoes the buzzing of the bees that do their tireless - and important - work. The universe is present in its poetic beauty.
Dozens of green tomatoes hang from a small tomato plant, planted by my 3-year-old niece. It is beautiful to realize that there is food grown here. That the same land that sustains my family's house also nourishes the food that will go to our table. Farming in this land is healing old wounds in my family.
I find myself thinking about the studio.
What do I nourish in this space/state?
What are the foods of the soul that I cultivate daily in my sacred space?
How does each image and medium interact in this ecosystem that I call the studio?
A studio needs to nourish, after the soil has been prepared and the care has been persistent. Not all of us will have “green fingers”, but we can all help in the preparation, cultivation, and harvest, benefiting from and sharing the healing of food, for the body and the soul.
May our studio be like this small space of land around the house: a sacred place of preparation, nourishment, and sharing. An ecosystem of images, movements, and souls.
Jéferson Diogo de Oliveira Santos works and lives in Brazil:
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