My work is born out of my need and desire to simplify and/or reduce each moment to its absolute essential, by removing details from life that tend to obscure what is truly being experienced.
Featured artist: Gigi Mills
Review: Northern Kin Festival 2023
He doesn’t have the resources of Glastonbury and pretty much runs the festival at a loss because he believes in doing it. The music was fabulous.
Bootheel Blues
I wanted a come-to-Jesus-go-to-hell storm of biblical proportions to befall this God-soaked land. She didn’t want pennies from heaven. I wanted a cold, hard million-dollar blast to wipe out this so-called event.
Au Hasard Balthazar
We tend to make everything hold meaning for us as humans, but what the sheep and the donkey know feels deeper than allegories and metaphors and stories humans need to tell ourselves. It feels fundamental and honest and beautiful, and the movie ends the way it began, with the ringing of warm bells.
May Issue, 2023
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.
Letter From the Editor, May, 2023: Magpies Commons
In my insomnia thoughts, I imagined Tidings of Magpies as a sort of commons. A green space where we can walk and talk together, and work together on our allotment gardens. Ideas can grow, and we can bind them together with each other’s thoughts and feelings, and make something new and beautiful.
Magpies Mix Tape: The Originals
Here is a list of the (close to) original version of songs you might know better from more popular versions that you might not have known were covers.
Sitting in Silence with Strangers
In the course of my travels I have had many unforgettable conversations, many from dusk to till dawn, entire train and plane rides, fascinating people with incredible stories or theories on the point of our existence, and yet, more often than not, it’s the conversations in silence I remember most fondly.
Holland
“Once I saw a barge with a small very happy dog patrolling the deck, he seemed to have a good life travelling the canals and rivers.”
After the Apocalypse (Or My Grandmother was a Landscape)
So what remains after you lose everything? When water or fire or clumsiness or meanness or a pandemic or cancer or war or ignorance and obsolescence changes everything–breaks everything, what do we do with what remains? We make art.
magpiesmagazine.com 