I could argue that there is, in fact, an art to the garage sale – I’ve certainly claimed more than a few cheap treasures – but I wouldn’t imagine scouting for such in the hushed halls of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA). Tell that to MoMA curators who recently launched “Meta-Monumental Garage Sale” in the museum’s open and noisy atrium. Here donated items were browsed – and bought – as they might have spilled from a friend’s front porch or wide backyard. Had I been an art participant all these years and never known … Continue reading In Your Own Backyard→
Charlottesville performance artist Avery Lawrence recently claimed the Grand Prize of Art Takes Miami 2012 competition. The “edgy,” contemporary SCOPE art fair was held in early December concurrently with Art Basel. Lawrence’s interactive, winning show, Arranging Suitcases, is an imaginative mix of painting, film and performances based on “personal memories” turned into “visual yarns.” His first daily performance, Assembling the Instrument, was inspired by his paternal grandmother “who picks up with a new man and a new life after her husband’s death (from a brain aneurysm).” Lawrence reenacts a video scene dramatizing his grandmother’s … Continue reading Art by Avery Lawrence→
Between Worlds for Margie Her arms flutter, as if to flee her body, the milk glass hands skimming sheets like autumn wings: thumb and fingers open and close, perhaps to pluck a word, sometimes pointing to say a name or spread into a trembling fan as lungs surge inside her chest, the way that burst of sparrow, trapped on my sun porch, charged the frantic air, beating, beating against God’s hard light. Wavering Place I’m slowly bringing things back, … Continue reading Between Worlds; Wavering Place by Diana Pinckney→
Fence for Margie She built that fence in the snow. All we saw of her was her red anorak and the upward flash of her tool, a hammer. Later, after her husband died and we tried to visit she wouldn’t come to the door. Now all that’s left is that fence, weathered, sturdy, still barring us, though she has moved away. She took her dog with her but she left the dish behind. Now, it sits there like a bright blue plug. We think if we remove it the whole yard may swirl inward, … Continue reading Fence by Corey Mesler→
Being Me The Trip across Texas is mine. Well, it’s in my name. The bank picks up the tab, I grab the fantasy: he practices my autograph in a cheap motel like a kid does Mickey Mantle’s. His girlfriend is horny, pretty and young, naked but for an anklet with chain linked to a ring on her toe. Her thighs are tattooed with flames. He says, “Wait one Goddamn minute,” goes out to test my card on a carton of Camels, beer and a convenience store rose. “YES, YES,” she shouts applauding his success. … Continue reading Being Me by Thomas Michael McDade→
Accidental Stowaway from Singapore, no papers or passport, surname unknown, Short-tailed Babbler, Japanese White-eye, Orange-bellied Flowerpecker, whoever you are, passing passerine, drawn to perch on a lifeboat winch by some crumb or flash of an earring as tugs yank the ship out into channel and two days later, in the South China Sea, you’re stuck too, nowhere to flee from here to horizon, as shown by forays of fluttering panic over the waves and back before exhaustion drowns you, little prisoner, condemned to be transported to a dirtier city, or if you hang on … Continue reading Accidental by Stephen Cushman→
Lover’s Quarrel 1 Because you cling like cigarette smoke, thin and acrid, in the brim of my hat, as if you know God lives on the addiction of our breath. 2 When the shadows finish wallpapering the bedroom, and the crows flock east with the traffic, is when. 3 How can I watch, in peace, the city bathe behind the sheer plastic shower curtain of the rain? My eyes towel off a nakedness not ours. 4 Because it’s late, and we know it will all expire, and I’ve programmed the wind, an oscillating fan, … Continue reading Lover’s Quarrel; At the Intersection by Stephen Hitchcock→
I’m all for book groups. In theory, at least. In practice, not so much. I’ve tried, but failed, several times to remain a member of one. I could argue (and I have) that this is because too many of these groups evolve into competitive-cooking, wine-swilling, salacious gossip sessions, but, actually, that’s the part I like. What I don’t like, I’ve discovered, is the book part. For me, there is something that happens to the whole experience of reading when it is done for the purpose of shared group discussion. It changes into something other: … Continue reading Resolution→
As Streetlight gets ready to go into our second year, it’s my sad duty to bid farewell to one of our editors and my glad duty to introduce two new editors. George Kamide, who has been on the staff since we went online last year leaves more than a small vacancy here. One can hardly overstate the contribution George has made, not only as fiction editor, but as a planner and facilitator of the website. His previous experience working on an online publication and his willingness to put in the extra effort made our … Continue reading Farewell and Hail→
Streetlight Magazine is going global. We are now pleased to be receiving readers and art submissions from abroad. Among them, are artists Fabio Sassi of Bologna, Italy and Eleanor Leonne Bennett of Manchester, England. Sassi has been a self-taught, visual artist since 1990. ”I’ve been influenced by Andy Warhol and the Pop Art movement, the Arte Povera (literally Poor Art) movement mixed with a bit of Wabi Sabi,” he says. Besides photography, Sassi also works in acrylics, stenciling on canvas, board or vinyl records. “I use the stencil technique and have cut more than 100 patterns. Recently, I am tending to use real … Continue reading Art Imports from Abroad→
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