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.
Imagination is the dream of a house, familiar and yet entirely new. Behind every door is an unexpected room, or staircase, or garden, or folly.
When bells ring out the time, the time passes strangely. The space between tolls seems impossible, like it’s hanging, waiting for something. For me.
Memorial Day. A day of shared remembering.
I feel I share a common interest in subject matter with Delano, and have traveled to many of the same places – just in very different times and circumstances.
I am beyond grateful for the chance to discuss the beautifully mysterious paintings of Simon Quadrat.
“I am driven to document my surroundings to try to find a sense of place in the world.”
“I’m all the time studying what I can do for my people. You can’t do nothing for yourself unless you do it for somebody else first. You can’t bake a corncake for yourself unless you bake it for somebody else. It ain’t worth the effort. In this world we have to talk a little and hush a heap. Love is just like a vein in a spring: Keeps you with supplements to cherish up what you have.”
These phantasms are concocted from a little kernel of conscience, or guilt, or fear, or loneliness. Sometimes others see them, sometimes they don’t, they’re shifting and dreamlike, and they operate according to their own rules. They’re unreliable narrators. They’re wise or foolish, in turn; they speak in riddles, they speak a questionable truth, changing and suspect, like all truths.
An art exhibit comes to rest in an abandoned New Jersey Neighborhood