Latest photoset from Alex Muñoz.
Long-ago memories, ones that last from generation to generation. Glimpses of a childhood past. Sorrows of the estranged ancestral motherland, China. Cindy Song finds herself somewhere in between.
Ringing: sounds from Becca Senatore’s day.
Tunnel’s third open mic was hosted in the Foley backyard. It was a celebration of the “harvest”: reaping what was sown, and the gratefulness that follows.
Photographs by Alex Munoz Music from Ohad Gilbert ABOUT THE ARTISTS: Alex Muñoz is 18 and currently attends PCC. See his other work on Tunnel here. Ohad Gilbert is 14 and makes experimental electronic music. He started working on his first album during English class 8th grade rather than doing work. Check out the rest of his music on his bandcamp here.
(A Love Story) Words by Jasminne Morataya Images by Brandon Yung She (the giant loser) possessed dumb vindictive horse eyes. They were incredibly round and emitted a faint, possibly supernatural light. In life she (the pathetic child nihilist) was vivacious and bright like a fresh cabbage and always quite hopeful. This woman (this stunted brainless goblin) did not realize that she (the worst person to ever live) was condemned to lose forever and ever in a series of increasingly painful circumstances, a fact made more merciless because it was all the result of a single decision that could have easily been avoided. Each loss compounded the subterranean self-hatred in her bloodless beating heart, a feeling she (the shit smeared on the walls of a poorly maintained high school restroom) would never be able to express in any sort of language except the secret vestigial one where she (a flaccid micropenis) went to the grocery store and cried automatically every single time the misting system cooled the produce. At the end of the day it didn’t even …
“The following photo series focuses on a local hospital in Rafaela, Argentina and their public healthcare system, which features free service for everyone specifically for low income families.”
ALEX SPEAKS: “I take photos because I want people to know how I see certain things/places/people through my eyes. I’ve always found the different ways people see/perceive things in life really interesting. I always try to create a painting when I take photos, like those old renaissance paintings with a million different things happening but everything is shown in detail and you can stare at it for hours and find new things in the photo every time you look at it. And sometimes the opposite, there’s only one thing going on in the photo but somehow you can’t stop looking at it. That’s how I see things in life sometimes, i just sometimes want to stare at things for long periods of time just taking in every detail. I guess that’s why I take photos, ‘why don’t you take a picture, it will last longer’.” “I’d consider myself an artist. No denying it. I create. It’s what I do and what I’ve always liked to do since I was a kid. If anybody creates anything or …
//Negative Space// Negative space means giving emptiness weight, making material objects disappear. Negative space means letting shapes rule. You could be subtracting or adding or molding the shadows. It is like hearing what isn’t said in a conversation. Suddenly the silence becomes all the more important. (Turn the world inside out, and perhaps you can feel the fraying stitches and seams like the inside of a sweater.)
Adolescentz: a stop motion poem by Trinity Williams What’s the difference between a phase and just simply “being yourself” when the duration of a phase has an equivalence to the length of your average menstrual cycle? I’m myself at least five days a week, once every month. The other days I linger between reality and ghost world. Day 1: upset stomach, tender breast, abhorrence, and killer cramps. Day 2: surrealistic visionary, a girl’s room is her sanctuary. Day 3: two more left, and good friend, you will be missed. you are the emblem of a Sahara sunset, mercury, adolescence, oxygen, me… Day 4: question one in truth or dare: “Your first kiss?” you solemnly sweared. you shouldn’t tell, you couldn’t tell. then you answered, head high and well, “my first kiss was my menstrual cycle.” a look of disgust and terror filled. as the rest of the crowd scurried quick, you reapplied your red lipstick. Day 5: It’s day five of being myself and I have about two days left to enjoy me while I …