A Creative Space + Literary Magazine
My father’s cigar-smoking, or rather its imminent threat, had caused our banishment to the porch. After supper, Dad had taken a cigar from his shirt pocket with the practiced deliberation of an actor. Mom, recognizing the cue as hers, stood and began clearing the dishes. “Marcel,” she said, “you’re not going to smoke that…
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Medium: Acrylics on canvas Size: 24 inches x 36 inches Shruti loves doing mainly abstract and mixed media artworks that don’t subscribe to complicated concepts. Her idea of art is simple beauty.
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Edward Michael Supranowicz is an Appalachian native. He has had artwork and poems published in the US and other countries.
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I am well worn, thumbed through, creased at the edgesAlways stuck on the same page, always mid-sentence,I can neither avert my eyes, turn thoughts, nor paperFor it is my life’s work, knowing something of what’s gone beforeBut no clarity as to what comes nextI live in the now of uncertaintyNo future, beyond skittish dreamsMy imprint…
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Right now I’m sitting alone in my favorite bistro. A cocktail or two, some delicious comfort food, and possibilities, all lie in waiting. Nights like this call for red lipstick. Nights where, no one you already know can make up for the crappy day you’ve had. The ones where existential crises dictate the order of…
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‘It’s a never-ending game of disintegration. I challenge the viewer by not living up to their expectations. I am denying the satisfaction of solving the riddle, hidden within the depth of my artwork.’ By turning his filmic cabinet of curiosity into an intriguing jigsaw puzzle of hybrid geometric patterns, Joas Nebe teases the viewer into accessing his game.…
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“I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up. I’m going to throw up all over my wedding dress!” I said. “Breathe,” my friend, Monica, replied. I breathed. I didn’t throw up. It was past the time of morning sickness so something else was wrong. The woman in the mirror in front of me reapplied the…
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Smiling into the morning’s faceI lie under a tree Listening to birds With my eyesI kiss the crooked treefull of rounded fruits A happy crowd held in friendly arms I can do what I wantI watch the river flow Don’t be a slave, don’t be a foolshe speaks to mewhile I cry tears of joy…
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Born in New York City, Emily Stedman’s family moved to France when she was in first grade. She currently lives in New York City and is represented at NOHO/M55 Gallery. Her colorful watercolor paintings explore imagined and actual narratives in the world around her. Links: emilystedman.com Instagram: @nepperhan_watercolors facebook.com/emily.stedman
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