New fiction from Garner Behnke.
New fiction from Garner Behnke.
“I embrace the accidents and errors as they not only remind us how vulnerable and delicate we are, they can often show us something new. It is at the point of breakdown that the medium begins to reveal itself. Through glitches and mistakes we get to see the base elements, the very construction of the material that creates those illusions of reality, the apparatus of photography itself.”
“A starting point, for artists or for anyone else, might be simply learning to look around where you live now. – Lucy Lippard” Photographs and their stories from Michael Acker.
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.
There is a second sort of bamboo growing here, with beautiful varied dark green stripes on a yellow background. My friend tells me that in Vietnam this is special and a spirit might live in such bamboo. There is a large stand of such striped bamboo nearby. I’ve seen no spirits but there are weaver birds occupying the grove, much activity from the birds building their nests. The ground around the stand is littered with failed nest attempts.