Sefunmi Adeola’s Focus on African Subjects
Nigerian artist Sefunmi Adeola puts his sharp eyes to work as a photographer, illustrator and textile designer focusing on his African people. “I became interested in photography around 2014/2015,” says Adeola. “At the beginning, I was very interested in street photography and abstract street photography. I studied the works of artists I admired, looking at the tone, color, themes, and image-making. “I was utterly fascinated by the black and white images of artists like Ralph Gibson, and Rotimi Fani-Kayode as well as Sunmi Smart-Cole, Robert Frank, Robert Capa, Annie Leibovitz, and Diane Arbus.” Adeola prefers … Continue reading Sefunmi Adeola’s Focus on African Subjects
A Necessary Addiction by Fred Wilbur
Recently, my wife and I attended a dinner gathering of ten academics of which half were retired. We had met all before, though only a few do we consider knowing well. There was pleasant conversation as folks arrived—much about the inconveniences of the recent snow and ice. These folks were mostly scientists, with a good balance of humanities scholars and all are relentlessly curious and well versed in a range of subject areas. Dinner conversation bounced from tick-borne alpha-gal, to the absence of haggis being Robert Burns night (postponed because of the snowstorm a week … Continue reading A Necessary Addiction by Fred Wilbur
After the Blizzard by Trudy Hale
We had warning. A dangerous blizzard sweeps across the eastern United States. Be prepared. The young man stacks firewood on my porch and in the barn. I fill up jugs and a bucket with water in case of a power outage. Pull out candles and battery lanterns. The storm rolls in after midnight. Snow mixed with sleet and frozen rain. The temperature drops and keeps dropping. In the morning, still sleety and snowing. Yet, tree limbs and cedars are not fluffy with snow. The snow, it seems, viewed from my window, not all that pretty, … Continue reading After the Blizzard by Trudy Hale
Women who nap by Catherine Socarras Ferrell
Bed calls at midday, when the eyes drowse and honey themselves shut. Sleep curls thick as nectar. We hexagon ourselves, invert. Always a sigh. Hours ripen sweet. We seal away. For a moment, the unbearable buzz subsides. Cathy Socarras Ferrell is a poet and educator. The granddaughter of Cuban immigrants, she finds inspiration in family story-telling and the Sandhill cranes in her yard. Her work can be found at The Orchards Poetry Journal, Santa Clara Review, and other journals. Readers can connect with Cathy at ferrellwords.com. Follow us!
Holding Onto The Past Through Fiction by Virginia Pye
What happens to the homes where we once lived? Homes we left behind, in childhood when it wasn’t a choice, as an adult when it was necessary for work or, as elders, for health reasons or to be closer to family. We can track them down via Google maps, but I suggest they no longer exist. Those places where we once lived, and especially those we once loved, exist only in memory, and, if we’re lucky, in the imagination. I hold onto places I’ve loved by writing fiction set there. Writing helps me process loss. … Continue reading Holding Onto The Past Through Fiction by Virginia Pye
So Be It by Tyler Scott
Spring. Finally. After several snowstorms, ice, and being stuck in the house for days on end, Louise couldn’t wait to get in her yard. The daffodils had bloomed, the forsythia had appeared on stage and the February camellias were still struggling with their winter memories. There was plenty of work to do: mulching, feeding, cleaning up windblown trash, picking up sticks, planting grass seed, trimming bushes, pulling her pots out; she was so glad she had her yardman Buddy to help, insofar as her husband Robert wasn’t much help. The garden, other than family and … Continue reading So Be It by Tyler Scott
Dancing with a Shadow by Zihan Zang
I danced with a shadow, drifting in the wind, Our forms in ev’ry city window cast. We held each other as the night slipped past, Circled and spun in a chanted keen. I stared into you, where sorrow yields, Those hollow eyes where moonlight softly dives. Your touch slipped through my fingers–five to five– Like wind brushing through a silent mill. Why can’t I see your face, your countenance? Do you take root within my dripping misery, From mem’ries flooding beneath the city, Or are you but a flash of Renaissance? Should I still hold … Continue reading Dancing with a Shadow by Zihan Zang
Lisa Macchi: Disrupting the Paint by Russell Hart
Lisa Macchi took twenty-five years off from art, but now she’s painting Charlottesville red. Sitting in her McGuffey Art Center studio, radiating an energy that belies her eighty years, Lisa Macchi has some advice for young artists stressing over how to start a painting. “You have to break the silence,” she says. “The first thing I do is just get paint on the canvas. I put it there and see if it makes sense. It doesn’t even have to relate to how the painting … Continue reading Lisa Macchi: Disrupting the Paint by Russell Hart
A Very Ordinary Day by MJE Clubb
There were some signs, of course, that the world was ending. Sitting in the nurses’ station I sipped instant coffee, listening to a float nurse offhandedly mention that the winds would be kicking up later that day. I looked out the window. It was summer, the wind would be a welcome change. The next morning was dark. Waking up at 5 a.m., I wasn’t surprised. I bundled up my child to take her to daycare. I needed to get back to the hospital for my shift by 6 a.m. The sky remained dark. I dropped … Continue reading A Very Ordinary Day by MJE Clubb
Just One Thumb by Gayla Mills
I’ve been using an old refurbished desktop, just a couple hundred bucks. It’s okay—except for its geriatric pace and annoying habit of turning itself back on after shut down. Then I started getting threatening messages from Microsoft reminding me it can’t be upgraded to Windows 11 and will become even less capable and more vulnerable. Its days are numbered. My new Dell arrived last week and I began prepping for the switch. Since I didn’t want my files in the cloud (I’m under the illusion that I have some privacy left), I needed to back … Continue reading Just One Thumb by Gayla Mills