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Art & Other Fictitious Imaginings
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By Jack M. Freedman  Red state infiltrator
Orange skinned dictator Yellow-bellied legislator Green paper separator
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 Artist Bio:
Mariana was born in a small town called Cascavel (Rattlesnake), in the state of Paraná, Brazil, in 1988. As a child, Mariana was interested in the manga art form from Japan, and her first works were an act of fun and expression of her interests. Later in life, as she moved to Curitiba, the capital of Paraná, she started to have more contact with fine art. There, she developed her skills and practiced mostly with charcoal, pen, and pencil. She has also worked as a digital illustrator since 2012. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
By Kayo Shido  "Emotional Landscape 10," pastel, oil, ink, acrylic, tempera on mylar on wood panel, 2020, 36"x48" Artist StatementDeeply influenced by Carl Jung, I am interested in our unconscious mind. We store an incredible amount of data by perceiving with our five senses as images, thoughts, feelings, and sensations into the subconscious storage room. They sometimes emerge as an inspiration – I believe creativity exists in our subconscious mind. And there is said to be a deeper level of collective unconsciousness where we connect with other people on a subliminal level. I imagine having invisible rhizome nourished by memories, dreams, images, and ideas stored deep under the ground which is connecting with others to share emotion or beauty without boundaries.
Painting is for me is a journey to my rhizome, to discover how all my perceptions and experiences have blended in mind, and to how they can be extracted on the surface. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Editor's Note: Cecilia André is one of the Ankhlave artists featured in the Queens Botanical Garden. Read Quail Bell's story about Ankhlave's garden project here.  "Breaking Waves" on the Crabapple tree orchard, far end, at the Queens Botanical Garden, bordering the neighborhood houses. Artist StatementI make large outdoor installations and use color transparencies to cast colored shadows. These pieces invite viewers to bathe themselves in colored lights, to experience my patterns and designs on their skin or clothing. Animals have bathed in my light pieces, too. As clouds cover the sun, the colored shadows fade then reignite as the sun comes out, bringing curiosity and awareness to the phenomena of daylight and sunshine which surrounds us daily.
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By Serrina Zhou  Look, the earth cracking like pomegranate
The scorched soot tracking the azure Cornflower blue against the infinity Of mangroves. Sixteen years and I Have not burned since. No, no. my Mother is burning inside me, around Me; her bared fault lines tracing A scar that cannot be healed. In The last shade, I am shedding The folds of overripe mango, The sweetness peeling the salt Of her wounds, the words evanescent Like fireflies trickle among The saints and shadows, their broken Wings patched with sweet syrupy Morphine. Yesterday we watched The forecast suck the inner pleats Of fish children, unborn from their Mothers, all the tears shed into Mineral and myth, bleeding and Blinding. We bloomed where We were planted but eventually Even our seeds, offered to the Gusts of diaspora will fade Into ash, the skyline unending Will snap and I will have nothing But empty miracle, the barren Basilica of entropy simmering Beneath cracked pavements And combustion, torched ablaze. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Editor's Note: This piece previously appeared in Trouvaille Review.  Our daughter Jasmine grew troublesome that year. She complained about school, talked about boys, and cut her hair into a jagged wedge. My wife Hella said it was a phase, that it would pass, but Jasmine threw a fit when we asked her to pack for the family’s annual trip to coastal Maine.
“You’re coming, and that is that,” Hella said. Jasmine looked at me in protest, but I said nothing, and she must have thought me a monster. My little girl of fourteen no longer a little girl. Outside, a loud Trans Am circled the block. |
