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issue #7   |   spring 2020




issue #7

click names or scroll

rowan spencer+

+
every day (with sound)
john liles &
elissa levy
+

+
two from tiny organs
terri witek+

+
folding poem (the length
of a monster)
fin sorrel+

+
two pieces
emily somoskey+

+
three pieces
derek owens & michael blitz+

+
three from stories
in search of...
 
contributor notes

rowan spencer

every day

play ► (0:56)







Materials:
visual collage - smartphone photos of the floor, walls, windows, shower drain, bed, and neighbouring trees of an apartment; digital illustration; Instagram screenshots; found texture

sound collage: smartphone field recordings of the floor, walls, windows, shower drain, bed, and neighbouring trees of an apartment; scam voicemail recording

john liles & elissa levy

the steady state





this oh what a while
that we've been given

to breathe the air
we breathe

that we form bonds
how we lend electrons,

something dearest
through the blue

to breathe the air
we breathe and in

the lungs
what bleeds

our honey alights
our hearts

and none of us
will endure this



how to ask anyone near





*
enthusiasm can incapacitate
in the companion animal

what could      make bearable all that we must

sugar incantations,

snuggest lifemate,

arteries

are endless

until they aren't

*

and when the dark goes down

and you are photon-lonely

there is no way
to approximate
the touch



Materials for Tiny Organs (2020):
Potatoes and buttons cast in plaster, spray paint, geode, cast wax Invisalign, wax and aqua resign buttons and wax bone, string, rock cast in aqua resin

Notes:
Our relationship with planetary minerals dates back over 120,000 years, to a time before we became “modern”. In this very brief geological window, humanity has come to domesticate the chemical elements that constitute all-natural matter. As we harness material, it is easy to forget that ours is not the only velocity at play. We stand upon the evidence – miles of rock strata detailing timelines and local histories of an earth that is always growing.

Here, in a collaboration sprouted and grown at Oak Spring Garden, we examine the complexities and interplays of the quotidian, within and against a growing Anthropocene. Mixed media arrangements of cast rocks, potatoes, bones, and oyster shells bring the physicality of a tangible language existing on a single page. Sculpture and language work in the task of reimagining organic material into new formal relations by venturing through a common ground. In doing so, light is cast upon the reciprocal relationship between the natural world and how it is employed by humans.

terri witek

folding poem (length of a monster)







Notes:
I'm interested in antiquities museums and their signage: all the guesses and transcriptions of material objects-- likely excavated from earth layers-- now housed in glass. I wondered how to excavate the phrases themselves, already so mysterious. I cut some up and began folding. I unfolded them in little doc cam performances during poetry readings. 3D animator Dengke Chen animated, and with his use of timing and space, the phrases took on another strange life. Sound engineer Amandine Pras then tangled recordings of my readings.

fin sorrel

joseph and me









discogiaii







Materials:
joseph and me - dream capture sequence, text editor, Indesign (from a novel in progress); discogiaii - found toys, tape, reel to reel, digital collage, photo.

emily somoskey

placed space







incandescent







absent glow







Materials:
placed space - oil, collage and resin on panel; absent glow - oil and collage on panel; incandescent - mixed media on canvas.

derek owens & michael blitz

the wooden thing





not weeping! Buckets and buckets of tears. And sweat. No, not sweat! Crying everywhere. Not good.

Start again.

Start with a name.

Then a description. No! Things. Start with the things, then the description, then the names.

Okay, but crying for Christ’s sake? What the hell was with the crying? No one cried anymore. People wept, now.

“They,” he muttered, “should be weeping.”



the twelfth of sometimes





though it was a perfectly lovely bouquet.

“Nothing,” Johnny Mathis snapped, “is perfect!” But he was, as always, wrong. One day, it was true, he would be right. It was a statistical certainty.

“Oh, darling,” she murmured, “nothing is certain.” Still, she thought, he seems sufficiently convinced that I am my sister.

“You,” he remarked, “seem somehow different.”

Yes, she thought, yes.



eland security





“The redacted redacted redacted redacted notwithstanding,” he explained, “the redacted redacted unfortunate.”

“Yes, sir, that makes perfect sense.” Major Thomas was the professional sycophant desired by every member of the redacted redacted. “Will you be holding a press conference, Sir?” The Major already knew the answer would be “Of course!”

“Of course!” General Owens was nothing if not terse. “And I’m going to tell those journalist bastards that if they misquote me, the redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted Pacific Ocean!”

The meeting was over, as signaled by the General’s customary cigar-lighting. Major Thomas turned to the others to indicate, without words, that it was time for them to leave. One by one, the members of the redacted redacted filed out. The last to leave, Major Thomas turned back to look one last time at the man who, by the Major’s hand, would be dead within the hour.

“What are you looking at?” demanded the General.

redacted redacted redacted, Sir.”

General Owens made the sound he always made. As the Major made his exit, closing the door silently behind him, the General felt the first twinge of guilt. He had learned of the Major’s plans for him and had made sure, during a moment when the would-be assassin looked away, to redacted redacted redacted the redacted.

Notes:
Samples from a collection of 65 stories (by Blitz) with images (by Owens), completed in 2019


ctrl + v

issue #7   |   spring 2020


Loading issue...

issue #7

click names or scroll

rowan spencer+
+
every day
with sound
john liles &
elissa levy
+
+
two from tiny organs
terri witek+
+
folding poem (the length of a monster)
fin sorrel+
+
two pieces
emily somoskey+
+
three pieces
derek owens &
michael blitz
+
+
three stories
in search of
contributor notes

issue #7

click names or scroll

rowan spencer
john liles & elissa levy
terri witek
fin sorrel
emily somoskey
derek owens & michael blitz
contributor notes

rowan spencer

every day (with sound)

play ► (0:56)

every day

Materials:
visual collage - smartphone photos of the floor, walls, windows, shower drain, bed, and neighbouring trees of an apartment; digital illustration; Instagram screenshots; found texture

sound collage: smartphone field recordings of the floor, walls, windows, shower drain, bed, and neighbouring trees of an apartment; scam voicemail recording

john liles & elissa levy

the steady state
how to ask anyone near

the steady state

how to ask anyone near

Materials for Tiny Organs (2020):
Potatoes and buttons cast in plaster, spray paint, geode, cast wax Invisalign, wax and aqua resign buttons and wax bone, string, rock cast in aqua resin.

Notes:
Our relationship with planetary minerals dates back over 120,000 years, to a time before we became “modern”. In this very brief geological window, humanity has come to domesticate the chemical elements that constitute all-natural matter. As we harness material, it is easy to forget that ours is not the only velocity at play. We stand upon the evidence – miles of rock strata detailing timelines and local histories of an earth that is always growing.

Here, in a collaboration sprouted and grown at Oak Spring Garden, we examine the complexities and interplays of the quotidian, within and against a growing Anthropocene. Mixed media arrangements of cast rocks, potatoes, bones, and oyster shells bring the physicality of a tangible language existing on a single page. Sculpture and language work in the task of reimagining organic material into new formal relations by venturing through a common ground. In doing so, light is cast upon the reciprocal relationship between the natural world and how it is employed by humans.

terri witek

folding poems(the length of a monster)

folding poems(the length of a monster)

Notes:
I'm interested in antiquities museums and their signage: all the guesses and transcriptions of material objects-- likely excavated from earth layers-- now housed in glass. I wondered how to excavate the phrases themselves, already so mysterious. I cut some up and began folding. I unfolded them in little doc cam performances during poetry readings. 3D animator Dengke Chen animated, and with his use of timing and space, the phrases took on another strange life. Sound engineer Amandine Pras then tangled recordings of my readings.

fin sorrel

joseph and me
discogiaii

joseph and me

discogiaii

Materials:
joseph and me - dream capture sequence, text editor, Indesign (from a novel in progress); discogiaii - found toys, tape, reel to reel, digital collage, photo.

emily somoskey

placed space
incandescent
absent glow

placed space

incandescent

absent glow

Materials:
placed space - oil, collage and resin on panel; absent glow - oil and collage on panel; incandescent - mixed media on canvas.

derek owens & michael blitz

the wooden thing
the twelfth of sometimes
eland security

the wooden thing

not weeping! Buckets and buckets of tears. And sweat. No, not sweat! Crying everywhere. Not good.

Start again.

Start with a name.

Then a description. No! Things. Start with the things, then the description, then the names.

Okay, but crying for Christ’s sake? What the hell was with the crying? No one cried anymore. People wept, now.

“They,” he muttered, “should be weeping.”

the twelfth of sometimes

though it was a perfectly lovely bouquet.

“Nothing,” Johnny Mathis snapped, “is perfect!” But he was, as always, wrong. One day, it was true, he would be right. It was a statistical certainty.

“Oh, darling,” she murmured, “nothing is certain.” Still, she thought, he seems sufficiently convinced that I am my sister.

“You,” he remarked, “seem somehow different.”

Yes, she thought, yes.

eland security

“The redacted redacted redacted redacted notwithstanding,” he explained, “the redacted redacted unfortunate.”

“Yes, sir, that makes perfect sense.” Major Thomas was the professional sycophant desired by every member of the redacted redacted. “Will you be holding a press conference, Sir?” The Major already knew the answer would be “Of course!”

“Of course!” General Owens was nothing if not terse. “And I’m going to tell those journalist bastards that if they misquote me, the redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted redacted Pacific Ocean!”

The meeting was over, as signaled by the General’s customary cigar-lighting. Major Thomas turned to the others to indicate, without words, that it was time for them to leave. One by one, the members of the redacted redacted filed out. The last to leave, Major Thomas turned back to look one last time at the man who, by the Major’s hand, would be dead within the hour.

“What are you looking at?” demanded the General.

redacted redacted redacted, Sir.”

General Owens made the sound he always made. As the Major made his exit, closing the door silently behind him, the General felt the first twinge of guilt. He had learned of the Major’s plans for him and had made sure, during a moment when the would-be assassin looked away, to redacted redacted redacted the redacted.

Notes:
Samples from a collection of 65 stories (by Blitz) with images (by Owens), completed in 2019

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