The stuff of sweet dreams or nightmares? Lauren Barnett presents the kind of establishments you can only visit in your dreams.
I am a filmmaker, illustrator, graphic designer and copy editor.
The stuff of sweet dreams or nightmares? Lauren Barnett presents the kind of establishments you can only visit in your dreams.
And maybe Epimetheus wasn’t so slow or foolish, so backward. Because “epi” also means upon, beside, about. Maybe he was thinking of the world aside from the struggle of gods and mortals. Maybe he was wisely thinking around that, besides that, of the rest of the world, which can continue with balance and equilibrium from day to day, regardless of the torments that gods and men bring upon themselves.
“My deepest self is connected to people and creatures that I will never meet or see. I think that each separate part knows and carries the whole in a way that is not yet accessible to our mental understanding.” An interview with the remarkable Anouk Rugueu
“There are big dogs and little dogs, but little dogs must not fret over the existence of the big ones. Everyone is obligated to howl in the voice that the Lord God has given him.”
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue. As ever, submit, support, subscribe. And have a […]
I’m talking about creating something big together, working together on something, something good. Something money and cynicism can’t touch, because we have no use for any of that. Something we believe in, even if it seems a little crazy. An unholy ghost building made up of dream-filled rooms and corridors leading to vistas and light. A place where we can sigh out our sentences and sing out our silences.
DO THEY THINK WE’RE MORONS? Do they think that if they slip the word “technology” into their advertisement we will believe that their product will miraculously turn back time? Yes, yes they do think we’re morons, but the truth is actually more cynical than that.
We’re given music. (And it does feel like a gift.) We’re given, specifically, a small, moving swell of music, like a warm gentle wave; a few notes from the second movement of Beethoven’s Emperor piano concerto. And then we return to the quiet world of this ridiculously beautiful expressive boy, to the sound of his breath, and of his madly pedaling feet.
But these people are working on something, they’re building something that defies understanding. In rusts and greys, the vast spaces of dried grass and gloomy sky are weighed down by small clusters of human clutter. And by people operating on a singularly American level of absurdity to respond to the lucid invitation to live and to create, in the very midst of the desert.
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.