Month: January 2016

Onionskin

A photo series by Minu Jun. Minu Speaks: The series explores the intersection between artifice and the natural, and how I found the definition of the two super arbitrary. Fruit is considered natural and clothes are considered manufactured, even though both are heavily processed. I wanted to compound these two layers into a single image and present it as one world, because that’s kind of how I see it. Also, the series looks at our obsession with printing things that are considered natural and the human figure as a representation of naturally, something natural, or something fake.   Somi responds to Minu’s ideas: Each image in this series questions the supposed purity of nature and the human form. The series toys with the idea of “natural” by  decimating things we associate with it. An onion in pieces, a cloud of dismembered penises caught in tangled branches… These dissections are mixed with still life photos, depicting scenes that range from clean to hectic. The cleaner sets have a sense of symmetry and deliberation. The wig hung in a net, for example. …

Frame the mundane: Eric Anaya

ERIC SPEAKS: “I didn’t seeing photos in a serious light until I was in High School. The thing I love the most about photos is the simplicity to making a beautiful image. An absolutely lovely photo can be taken as quick as a second, capturing the entire scene, a feeling, an energy, or even an aesthetic. It could be anything too! A boy picking his nose on his father’s shoulders, a haggard man’s shadow pursuing a bank’s granite wall. Even a freckled woman eating a bowl of chow mein. Honestly.  If you can frame the mundane to look interesting or eye-taking, that’s something that should really be appreciated.” “I’ve always enjoyed illustrating, before it was just a lot of doodles and sheet paper drawings. I used to go into things with a plan. I knew what I wanted to draw and was upset when it didn’t come out how I liked to. It was only until just a couple of days ago, when me and a couple of friends settled in Berkeley for some days. It was …

matriarchal and empyreal

HILDEBURH’S WAR by Emily Yin Your orphaned eyes do not befit a queen of noble birth. Ungrateful wretch, always begging when wrought torques hang about your paltry neck. Let them unmake your Danish heart. Remember, you want for nothing except a home. Your daddy renounced you for a fragile peace. And so it goes, an armistice profaned: your son and husband dead within the month. You stateless woman, you shadow apart from man. Daughter of the conquering and mother of the conquered. Hildeburh, your shuddering shoulders and muzzled mouth bring you too close to animal—Hildeburh, don’t go with the Danes across the ocean. It is time to unmoor. PROTECTED by Grace Meyer Neon: visor, vest, jacket when it’s cold, gloves, a safety whistle My mom used to be a crossing guard. Neon: dress, heels, I should have brought a jacket, big earrings, no safety whistle It started the moment he whistled at me. She wanted to be a policewoman. Instead she would hold a sign: neon red hexagon Always Red: Stop. That night No, Stop, …

Jaundice, A Jaunt, Jaune: John

ABOUT JOHN:  “I’m a 20 old year art student from Colombia. I live in Bogota and my favorite color is yellow. Every time my grandma stares at my face, she says I’m yellow and my name tells it too. John, as people know me, is Jaune in french , and in spite of not having a relation with french stuff , Jaune means:  John and Yellow at the same time, so I use it as my nickname . Artworks themselves are already too revealing for also having your real name into exposure.” John Celis, 2015. Mixed media. JOHN SPEAKS*: “My work is just composed of drawings, because even though sometimes I use paint , I just keep in mind that I should be drawing. Aside from other things, like showing skills or concepts, I want my work to be honest about who I am and with how I think , and for me drawing is the media where I can achieve that . This is because drawing is immediate, there’s no time for any lies in …

not a bush: words from rachana hegde

half life you step on the bus smelling like chlorine eyes bright, prickling with tears; all those late nights are catching up to you, swallowing your sanity whole; i watch you call your mother words blurring together – (& this might be a memory but) i remember: the shape of your hands on the windowsill pressing hope into the tip of a pencil scratching out a different dream from the one your father screamed fingers clenched around the door-handle of your room; when you sit down next to me, you carry the weight of unshed tears – two phone calls later you’re clawing at your wrists muttering about mistakes & consequences & i grow tired of watching you draw blood from a body that deserves better – (you deserve better) – than a half life filled to the brim with: school / swimming / school / swimming “this is how we become tragedies (statistics)” I tell you but there is an exam next week & you want to start studying. *  *  * Metamorphosis I …

A digestion of Blue Clouds

Blue Clouds is a slice of unending leisure. Each song on the EP is laced with longing references to a “you.” Yet, the true subject of this love letter doesn’t seem to be a person as much as it is the languor of youth, the potential of an upcoming weekend, the somehow satisfying melancholy of being in love. At certain points, Nathaniel Stephens’ deep, almost guttural vocals coast into a delicate tremor, a tenderness saved for looking into a blue sky with the best people you know. The EP’s six tracks are carefully arranged, beginning with a short “Interlude” that could act as an overview of Stephens’ unhurried “paradise” and a love that belongs “amongst the stars.” This first track introduces a stripped guitar style and raw choppiness that continues for the rest of the EP. The next two tracks embody a melancholic balance between deep appreciation for “harmony” and a lovesick helping of the blues. Stephens’ lyrics seesaw between a sense of awareness for the vast life ahead and a very specific dynamic between two people. The fourth track, “Lady Killer,” kills me (Stephens …