What do you think of this?
the beauty you see
is merely a reflection
of what’s within you
It is a poem, written by Jenny Bienemann. It is a haiku, an ancient form of Japanese poetry usually written in 17 syllables over three lines, often the first with five syllables, then seven and then five, and generally focused on the natural world. Here is a famous example, written by a fellow named Natsume Sōseki, a novelist and poet often called the “Charles Dickens of Japan,” who lived from 1867 to 1916:
Over the wintry
Forest, winds howl in rage
with no leaves to blow.
Nice, yes?
Bienemann tells me that she first learned of haiku when she was in third grade but did not return to the form until — and, yes, she remembers the exact day — Sept. 10, 2017, “when I got the idea to take a picture with my phone and write a poem to accompany it and then post it on social media.”
Haiku seemed a perfect form and it was a hit. People responded enthusiastically to the photos/poems she began posting and in time that led to a charming book, “Haiku Milieu,” which gathered 120 photos paired with haiku, as well as an accompanying CD and a series of concerts.
“We are so blessed to be part of this great city,” Bienemann says. “There are so many talented musicians who also happen to be very nice people.”
She organized a concert with some pals from the music scene, asking each to write and perform a song inspired by a haiku. That first concert she called “utterly spectacular” saying, “The room was coin-drop quiet. There were 20 songs and such a mix, from punk to jazz fusion and, of course, a lot of folk. Some were funny, some heartbreaking.”
There have been 17 similar concerts since, and the next comes Friday at Fitzgerald’s. It features a number of local talents, a band and, as Jenny’s husband Robin Bienemann says, “because it’s at night perhaps some adult themes.”
He will be there, of course. He and Jenny have often shared stages, becoming admired fixtures on the local music scene.
They have been together since meeting at an open mic night at the much-missed Abbey Pub and have been married for 26 years. They live in Oak Park and have “regular jobs” that pay the bills. Each morning they share a kitchen table, coffee and food. Jenny has often written a haiku by the time Robin is up.
“For better or worse, I am her sounding board for the early draft of a haiku,” he says. “I think we’re lucky this has evolved in this way. I am a collaborator, editor.”
“I am always looking at his face when I read to him,” Jenny says. “Is he smiling?”
“I do try to keep a poker face,” he says.
Mostly, he smiles. And there is a palpable affection and respect between these two.
“It’s rather amazing how this has all come to be,” he says. “It was technology, the wonders of the iPhone, that lured Jenny into becoming a visual artist and it’s thrilling for me to watch.”
And a thrill to see in this new book, “Sundays with Jenny Bienemann,” filled with more than 250 haiku and many striking photos — urban and rural — and some abstract line drawings of Jenny’s.
This merging of an ancient poetic form and modern technology has a deeper almost philosophical meaning. Here’s another from Jenny:
you can’t blame others
for not giving you what you
won’t let yourself have
“It reaffirmed for me that writing songs based on a specific haiku is really a community-building platform,” Jenny says. “Connecting us to one another and connecting all of us to the world.”
Robin writes haiku but he also writes songs, good songs.
He recently was a medalist at the Grassy Hill New Folk Song Contest at the Kerrville Folk Festival in Kerrville, Texasd. Founded in 1972, this three-week-long festival attracts more than 30,000 people. In the singer/songwriter world, this is a highly prestigious gathering.
This year there were a record 1,341 entries, 24 finalists, and 6 winners and Robin was one of them. “It was quite an honor,” he says. “This was the third year I had been invited. Just to compete has long been one of the goals of my life. To win?”
He answers that question with a smile.
“This is like the Olympics of songwriting,” he told me. “We were treated like world-class athletes.”
He was the only Midwesterner among the medalists and won for two songs, “Polly Amorous” and “Ostrich Farm,” about a farmer who wills his 13 acres to the ostrich in his care. That former song is on his latest CD, “Animal Communicator,” along with another called “Hey Haikuer” which contains these lyrics:
“No need to be Japanese to make one.
It’s just a recipe for poetry.
Just don’t fill it full of extra syllables.
They’ll make it longer but not truer Haikuer.
Every time you tie your shoe you find something to haiku.
Haikuer. I’d like to be more like you are Haikuer.”
“Haiku Milieu After Dark” is 8:30 p.m. Saturday at FitzGerald’s, 6615 Roosevelt Road, Berwyn; free RSVPs (age 21+) at fitzgeraldsnightclub.com
rkogan@chicagotribune.com
