A season of madness, following a lifetime of work - the compelling creation of In Ghost Time, The Art and Stories of Susan Preston.
Somewhere buried deep in my photo files is a picture of Susan Preston riding a pig through the vineyards. Off to the side, Lou, Geoffrey, a bottle of rosé and a plate of charcuterie. Off to the other the gypsy wagon they use to house their chickens at night. Said chickens, no doubt confused by the pig and the lady riding it, are running for their life.
Susan is and always has been madcap minded; hers is a forthright engagement with life that captivates, charms and can unnerve those who do not know her curiosity of all things human comes from a deep well of compassion. Thousands upon thousands have come to love and respect the iconic Preston Vineyards - the public face of Lou and Susan Preston who together have built one of the most remarkable farming and wine stories in California. Far less is know about Susan and her journey as a painter and a free verse poet.
That is until now. With the publication of In Ghost Time we have a worthy monograph to truly celebrate Susan Preston’s painting life, encompass her brilliant writings, dip into her paradoxical sketches and journals, cast a bemused eye at her illustrated ‘historical’ rogues gallery of ‘Criminals I have loved.’
On Sept 14, from 3-5 Barndiva will proudly host A Book Launch Party for In Ghost Time: The Art and Stories of Susan Preston.. Susan will sign books, we will be pouring Preston wine and serving Hors d’oeuvres from the summer garden, and a reading by the author will commence beneath the mullberries at 4pm
The community is invited to attend this complimentary event courtesy of Preston Farm and Vineyards
I first laid eyes on Susan Preston the day we opened Barndiva, over two decades ago. The crown jewel of opening day was a multi-discipline art exhibit I had put together to help define what my family meant by our name, barndiva. We were about to take our place in the amazing Sonoma food and wine shed and could think of no better way to showcase the farmers, chefs and makers we admired and hoped to get to know and serve - those singular individuals that consistently hit the high notes in their craft or art. The show invited a select group of extraordinary Sonoma county ‘makers’ – across the disciplines of bread, chocolate, wine, cured meats, balsamic apple cider vinegar, olive oil, honey, cheese, fruit preserves…. to exhibit . Each was paired with an artist tasked with ‘intrepreting’ their edible art. Lou was invited to exhibit a loaf of his wood fired bread. His wife Susan, reputed to be the artist in the family, was chosen to intrepret his craft, their daughter Maggie to document it.
I’d never met Susan Preston before opening day but her reputation preceeded her - most of the other artists seemed in awe of her, but none seemed to know her. She’d never answered my emails, did not attend any group meeting with the other artists, in fact an hour before the opening party was about to begin, was a no-show.
With ten minutes to go, crowds lined up at the front gates, excited to see what all the fuss had been about during our two year build, a classically beautiful sandy blond women of moderate height and an off kilter swagger strode in through the main door, garments floating around her. Carrying a full bag of flour on her shoulder, in a few stides she proceeded to bend, slash and pour the entire sack onto the new stone floor, just below the plinth where Lou’s ‘art,’ his perfect heritage grained loaf, sat beneath a spotlight. Flour dust glinted in the air around her for a moment, but it had not even settled before she turned, strode back to the front door, and returned with a faded blue chair, spindle backed, seat worn from decades of use. This she gently - but purposely -placed down into the flour. The feet landed silently, but four columns of flour rose in a poof .
Standing a few feet away, arms crossed, three things occurred to me in the moment:
Susan Preston had brought to my opening a performance piece, beside which everything else being exhibited - lovely as it all was - instantly felt stagnant;
Her ‘blue chair in flour’ didn’t just perfectly capture Lou’s art, it fully caught the zietghist of the exhibit and spoke eloquently of the direction we hoped to take Barndiva, our new venture, our journey from that day forward.
I needed to know this woman. (there was a fourth, namely how the hell would we clean up all the flour people immediately started tracking through the room, with just a few hours before our first dinner service, but, you know, art?)
One of the benefits of life at any age is having resolute friendships. I have been blessed with hers for over two decades now, as we continue trying to navigate some of life’s most daunting questions : How do we weigh if we’ve lived a full life ? Is just being a good citizen enough? What is the best course toward aging gracefully, gaining not losing one’s joy at just being alive? Few of us are immune to being influenced by outside forces - family, choice of a partner, children, friends, neighbors…. Then there’s the actions of the city-state which melds into whats happening and affecting us in the world. And all the while nature prods and circles, a warning, and a constant muse.
Susan Preston is fearless with the direction she lets her mind go. She can be shy, but press her and she’s a brutally honest conversationalist who speaks her mind, often presciently so. She can be flirty, but worries more than she should about what people think. She is, and this alongside her creativity is what I love most about her, insatiably curious.
Despite all her skill sets, honed over a lifetime, which included juggling all of the forces mentioned in the paragraph above, she took quite a beating around the middle of the pandemic when she encountered a perfect physical and psychological storm that jumbled her signposts and signals. Two knee surgeries, a hip replacement, the wrong medications to combat pain, the tremendous pressure of covid on her family, and the lives of her farm and vineyard community, all coalesced and came to bear down upon her at once. We don’t like to think or talk about the covid year much anymore, for good reason. Suffice to say it was an impossible time to get good medical care on the fly, safely, much less the testing and seeing professionals in person that could put the complicated pieces of most illnessess - susan’s included here -together.
It was during this trying time the notion of this book was born. Two years passed, with months spent obsessing over which canvasas to include, which writings, how to present her rogues gallery of beloved ‘criminals.’ Slowly, she regained her health. She started painting again.
That art in effect saved Susan Preston from a brief but terrifying period in her life is only something we can talk about now. Lou, her daughters Maggie and Francesca, Marcia and I never stopped marveling at her courage and fierceness; her dedication to put forth a truly unique exploration of what its like to live one’s life fully, even when you slip your moorings. Further, how her explorations of paint, brown paper, dirt, rabbit skin glue, olive oil, charcoal, black tea, river water, and word after haunting word enabled her to come back from whatever brink she was tottering on. Back to realizing there was more she wanted to paint. To get down on paper. To give - which she had done in the form of this remarkable book - to the world. There are several love stories that wait to be discovered In Ghost Time, not least Susan’s for the old Gold Coast mining towns where she grew up and ran wild, and the Dry Creek Valley and the town of Healdsburg where she and Lou have lived and parented and farmed, all the while giving so much to the community.
But what is also captured between the pages of In Ghost TIme- the reason you must have a copy laying around - is something we all need in abundance right now: a belief rendered in line, color, and words- that speaks to the ineffable goodness, through joy, despite pain, that lives in the human spirit when you are brave enough to allow it to come out.
Buy the book. You won’t be sorry.
We hope to see you at the party!
above: For Pina Bausch/ Full Stop, Caron paper, brown paper bag, acrylic, ink, oil pastel, black tea, adhesive glue |Upward Tears Paper backing, brown paper bag ink, acrylic, Conté crayon gouache, adhesive glue, letter stamps, rubber mats | Conversations Worth Having Brown paper bag, acrylic, carbon paper, olive oil, pastel, adhesive glue