“Drawing - there evolved a method of communication that raised man’s intellectual powers to a vastly higher plane than could have been achieved through the mere utterance of vocal sound. Even the most crude and distorted portrayal of objects and devices and the drawing of embryonic hieroglyphics, symbols, and signs required unprecedented ingenuity and facility, employing skills unknown throughout the word-of-mouth epoch.” - Dard Hunter, Papermaking: The History and Technique of an Ancient Craft, 1938
TSAI ANTENG | LYDIA K. BAKER | JAVIER BARRIOS | ISABEL CAVENECIA | VERNA ESTES | LOWE FEHN | KAYLA GARTENBERG | EMILY GORUM | VALENTINA GUERRERO MARIN | YIMIAO LIU | IAN LOTTO | HOLLY MILLS | LARYSA MYERS | MEGAN NUGROHO | ZAYN QAHTANI | TJ RINOSKI | CHARLES E. ROBERTS III | MARIA VICTORIA SANTOS | CHERI SMITH | CECILIA SOSA
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
- Khalil Gibran, The Prophet (1923)
THE CIRCUMCISED, 2020
Charcoal, graphite and colored pencil on paper
56 x 42 in
142.2 x 106.7 cm
Crossing the Water by Sylvia Plath
Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.
A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.
Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;
Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.
Arrancaron la hiedra./ De raíz. No les fue fácil, sin embargo./ Emplearon podadoras,/ palas y guantes para no lastimarse./ esa hiedra que tardó años en cubrir/ la pared al fondo del patio./ Aferrada al concreto, parecía resistirse./ Ese era su territorio./ Si hubiera podido hablar/ no lo hubiera hecho,/ habría gritado,/ no hubiera perdido el tiempo/ en hacerlos entrar en razón/ porque el objetivo de esta mañana/ era cortarla, ver la pared lisa, perpendicular./ La hiedra dejó marcas/ como huellas de aves pequeñas,/ similares a las que dejan en la arena/ los pájaros marinos. (...)
They pulled up the ivy/ by the roots. It wasn’t easy, however,/ They used pruners,/ shovels and gloves so as to not get hurt,/ that ivy that took years to cover/ the wall at the back of the backyard./ Clinged to the concrete, it seemed to hold back. That was its territory./ If it could have spoken,/ it would not have done so,/ it would have screamed,/ it would not have wasted time/ to make them see reason/ because the objective this morning/ was to cut it down, to see the smooth wall, perpendicular./ The ivy left marks/ like tracks of small birds,/ as those left in the sand/ by seabirds./ (...)
- Luis Chavez. (2017). La historia de una hiedra. Chile: Overol.
laid out on us
watching over from within.
and still while after
white air sticks to the plain of back
pushes up from behind
holds the layers against and
billows up inside the lungs
a sheet pinned at the corners and
rounded globe earthed from the wind
until they untack
slack on the deck then
inching pile with the debris
unknowing wind could be more than rock
more than brick and could rip nails from wood itself when given a sail
- Lowe Fehn
EMOTIONS SWAY, 2020
Colored pencil on paper
10 x 10 in
25.4 x 25.4 cm
The Sea by Mary Oliver
body remembers that life and cries for
the lost parts of itself-
opening like flowers into
the flesh - my legs
want to lock and become
one muscle, I swear I know
just what the blue-gray scales
the rest of me would
in that motherlap,
in that dreamhouse
of salt and exercise,
what a spillage
of nostalgia pleads
from the very bones! how
they long to give up the long trek
inland, the brittle
beauty of understanding,
become gain a flaming body
of blind feeling
in the luminous roughage of the sea's body,
like victory inside that
insucking genesis, that
roaring flamboyance, that
conclusion of our own.
SOLAR EGG YOLK, 2021
Colored pencil on paper
7 x 9 in
17.8 x 22.9 cm