Here are four pieces that one of our favorite contributing editors, Kathleen Cramer, wrote for works & conversations. For those who didn't know her, they can serve as a good introduction to something of the essence of this singularly gifted artist - an actor-librettist-poet- painter-writer. Her theater life was a tapestry of performance, script writing, directing and friendships that included the well known figures Murray Mednick, Olan Jones (Overtone Industries) and Sam Shepard. And it was a joy for me having played a small role in sharing her unique voice with the world.

I met Kathleen in my high school days in Southern California where we were among the misfits getting through our coursework, but casting about for more vital areas of engagement.

One memory that stands out is our sitting next to each other in our junior year physiology class where we were always competing on our test scores. Given my shyness, the banter involved was the closest I ever got to expressing my thrall for this red-headed beauty with her ironic wit and air of mystery. It's telling that, in our high school's class yearbook, where each student declared their goal in life, Kathleen wrote “Empress of a large nation” and I, “Epistemologist.”

Her wit and artfulness - and the depth concealed beneath it, so well exemplified in these short pieces, was already there at Upland High where, in my imagination, we would somehow recognize our destiny together. But after high school graduation in 1961, we went our separate ways.

Then to my utter astonishment, one Sunday morning in the mid-1970s, there was Kathleen walking through the door of our place on St. Elmo Way in San Francisco. She, too, had found the group of seekers I had - she in Los Angeles - and now she'd moved to the Bay Area.

I know little about her life during the years between our high school graduation in 1961 and meeting her again in San Francisco in the mid-70s. There were accounts of her as a showgirl in Las Vegas, and later living with a group of friends around a young chemist trying to synthesize LSD. He succeeded, the story goes, and later was important for another young chemist named Owsley Stanley. Yes. That Owsley of San Francisco psychedelic fame.

It didn't take long after Kathleen had moved north for me to guess that she might be willing and interested in doing some writing for the magazine. By then, I'd begun to feel I'd found my bearings in what had been a spontaneous leap into publishing. One thing I did have from the beginning was a clear sense of the quality of the material I wanted to bring to others - something not so easy to find. I had no doubt, however, that with Kathleen, that would not be an issue, and I was delighted when she expressed interest in my proposal.

The way we worked together was open-ended. Sometimes I'd describe an idea I thought she might find interesting or amusing, and sometimes she'd present me with an idea. The first piece she wrote for us w&c #2 (1999) came from a suggestion I made: "Don't you find it impossible sometimes at an art exhibit - like in front of a sculpture - not to sneak in some taps and touchings when the gallery guard isn't watching?"

I'd had my share of little adventures around this and thought there was room for a send-up. Ergo, who better than Kathleen? As I guessed, she was there - and wrote a small tour de force on the subject: I Touch Art.

I made it clear that she had carte blanche to write anything she thought might be a fit for w&c. And around 2004, I think it was, she told me she and her husband, Charles, were going to Greece with the intent of finding a house there.

"Oh my! Surely a great piece for the magazine will be coming out of this, too," I thought. 

They did buy a house in Greece, and their visits over the years - Charles being Greek - must have been a special enrichment in their lives together. How Martin Heidegger* got involved in the piece she wrote is a perfect mystery. But it's a great example of not only this artist's unique charm and wit, but her ability to bring a seemingly effortless depth to her writing. More than that, it was a brilliant leap that rightly belongs to the subject. And no one else I know of could have brought it - and with such a light touch: Looking for a House in Greece with Martin Heidegger. (*see Heidegger's essay, Building, Dwelling, Thinking)

For w&c issue #16 - "Toward Inaccessible Places" (2008) we published Kathleen's Prophecies, a unique piece both perfectly suited to this remarkable issue, but beneath its whimsical surface, utterly generous. I've never read anything quite like it.

This fourth piece came from my telling her about an experience I'd had. One evening as the sun was setting, for some reason, I suddenly decided to see if I could note the exact moment of its setting. I don't recall what moved me to bring this up, but I thought it might spark an interest. It did, and her Seven Sunsets followed.

Each of these short writings carry Kathleen's singular voice and are shared with my deepest gratitude. She passed away in September, 2025. She will be greatly missed.