Deborah Henson-Conant

Telling stories with music at

Still Life with Flu

I call these photos “Still Life with Flu” – the little stories in the arrangement of bowls and cups and half-eaten toast that I discover when I walk back into a room. I’ve spent the last 9 days mostly flat on my back, epic coughing jags, mostly... read more

The PieCrust of a Closed Question

The piecrust lodged in my emotional throat when I was 8 and it’s been there ever since. I was 8 and I was visiting the home of my sworn enemy.  I can’t remember her name.  I didn’t even remember she was my enemy until some relative – I can’t remember who –... read more

Happy Little Monster

Don’t do more … hide less. This is what my pirate buddy Karen Montanaro reminds me all the time, though I always forget who she’s quoting, and then she reminds me its Jerzy Growtoski.  (“How will I ever remember this?” I asked her... read more

I Stand up for You

I stand up for you you who did not find the partner who supports you and i mean your spirit, your heartbroken longing to sing out loud in your own voice I stand up for you you, whose tiny glories pale as you see other glories gloried you, who could never say “I... read more

Spiritual Farting in Public

I belong to a secret facebook group with two friends from a former success mastermind. We 3 failed out of it. This secret group is the only place I can come and vent and bitch and whine and not feel the shame of spiritually farting in public.  In this secret place we... read more

You are a catalyst for belonging

You are a catalyst for belonging. When you step onto a stage – you make a place for each person in the audience to belong there. And because all the world is a stage, no matter what you’re doing, you can step onto it. You represent your audience on that stage.... read more

Counting Fish

Calaveras County. The 60’s.  I was 6. We went to a forestry preserve – I think, now, it must have been a fishery. At a tiny stream in the middle of a small, flat meadow, a forest ranger in short sleeves knelt looking through the running water at his hands.... read more

I’m Seeing Friends

On Saturday, it became imperative I fill one wall of my studio with drawings of my – how do I say this – my 2-dimensional friends. It’s the only thing I know to call them. I’m not trying to be cute. I dragged the deskjet color printer up from the first floor.  I... read more