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Soul Vision by Lori Levy

We can’t hide here—the only two white women

in the front row of the Crossroads Theater in south L.A.,

where Isaac, the black man, stands on stage like a submachine gun,

blasting us with Soul Vision poetry.

He fires warning shots into the air,

words so hot they make his bald scalp shine.

 

I am close enough to see his throat bulge when he swallows.

He doesn’t need the crutch of a podium in front of him

or papers to remind him what he’s written down.

“I am the first black president of the United States!” he howls.

His words bang against the walls, hit the back of the theater,

pound against the bold letters on the restroom doors: Brothers. Sisters.

His voice is as loud as the riots that ripped these streets apart

when Rodney King was beaten by white policemen.

 

No one moves.  Even the jazz band

stops for Isaac, leaving guitars, drums, saxophones on stage

as they merge with the audience.

My daughter’s arm touches mine, but I can’t turn my head,

can’t take my eyes off Isaac, the poet,

who won’t let me forget, even for a moment,

that he has suffered, his people have suffered.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe …

 

until the band gets up to play again.

There is my daughter on bass guitar:

a white girl with four big black men.

Soul Vision turns into Summertime:

Martin is singing, heads are nodding,

I’m tapping my foot to the swinging beat.

Isaac is tapping his foot, too.

 

Lori Levy’s poems have appeared in Poet Lore, RATTLE, Nimrod International Journal, and numerous other literary journals and anthologies in the U.S., England, and Israel.  In October, 2013, she was featured in the Aurorean as one of their “Showcase Poets,” and her health-related poems have been published in medical and medical humanities journals, including a hybrid (poetry/prose) piece she co-authored with her father, a physician.  She lives with her family in Los Angeles, but “home” has also been Vermont and Israel.  Besides writing, she thoroughly enjoys being a grandmother to her three little grandchildren.

Image: By Cmcmahon – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=18464079

Evolution by Gregory Ferrand

It could’ve been the death of my father or just the realization that the man staring back at me in the mirror was no longer the embodiment of youth, but whatever the reason: a little over a year ago, I set out to do some serious thinking about my art and how I make it.

For as far back as I can remember, I knew that I’d be an artist. That’s what everyone told me I would be. But what kind of artist: animator, sculptor, or illustrator? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I liked to tell stories and I wanted to tell stories; stories with meaning, but most importantly, stories with feeling.

“Sometimes It’s Just You”, by Gregory Ferrand, 2016, acrylic on canvas

When I first settled on painting I really knew very little about it. The most important thing for me, at first, was to create easily readable and emotionally charged pictures. But over time, as I refined the way I presented my narratives, I thought that on a certain level the images felt flat. I felt that how I used the paint was “unconvincing”. For example, black paint was my stand in for all things in shadow and white paint was used the same way for all things in light.

As I began to wrestle with these ideas I realized something about the complexity of color: using color is about much more than the literal translation presented to us on a box of crayons; think of sky blue, brick red, and lemon yellow. Grass may be many combinations of yellows, reds, blues and whites. And for most of us, how we assign color to an object depends on what we think the object “is”, and what color it is supposed to be — grass is green. What I now see, because I stared at it long and hard enough, is that the degree and tone of light on an object changes the color we perceive it to be, and, even more importantly for me as a storyteller, how we feel about it.

At the same time, I realized that what a painting is about, the stories I tell in the traditional sense, isn’t what I most care about. I want my stories to be less tangible. They should be open-ended, and evoke a feeling. Through a smarter use of color I hope to create images that invite the viewer to not just look, but experience the moment depicted on canvas.

So I began to study color theory in earnest, practicing what I learned along the way. And after doing a number of paintings implementing the things I was learning, I recently completed what I consider to be a breakthrough. When I first made sketches of “The Engagement” two years ago, I thought of it as a simple story about family. But armed with new ideas on color, I decided to try a simple color experiment using complimentary colors. I arbitrarily assigned a blue palette for the background of the painting and an orange palette for the foreground. And in doing so, the story became much more compelling. Using only variations of blue, I began painting as I always do: in layers, starting from the background while moving forward as if I was a camera on a dolly, slowly overlapping forms. First the background wall, then the painting in frame, then the books and bookshelf, then the clock and decorations, then the mantle, and then the older couple.

“The Engagement” by Gregory Ferrand, 2016, acrylic on canvas

When I began to paint with the orange palette in the foreground I started to understand that the contrast between the older couple in the background bathed in cool tones, and the young people in the foreground in warm tones, turned this simple story about family into a fuller story with more nuance and possibility. It was, therefore, a more realistic story.

I don’t think that this painting is somehow the definitive moment when I figured out how to tell the perfect story, but I can say that I think it’s an example of how I’ve learned to use color more effectively to create stories that depict and explore the raw, messy, and seemingly unimportant moments in life (that really say so much about us all.)

Currently I’m continuing my exploration of color and narratives as I plan and create a new body of work for a solo show opening in November at the Adah Rose Gallery in Kensington, MD. I hope you’ll come see the work.

Gregory Ferrand received a degree in film from Virginia Commonwealth University in 1997 and promptly headed off to Buenos Aires, Argentina to teach English to business people. While living there he kept an illustrated journal in which he experimented with different media and recorded his observations about the culture and people around him. In doing so, he came to understand two things about himself: 1. that he was a painter and 2. that he was fascinated by the subtext of human interactions. He returned to the States in early 2000 and began painting seriously.

Ferrand pulls on influences as wide ranging as comics, Mexican muralists, and 1950’s fashion to create paintings that reveal the beauty of living. His background in film is evident in the strong use of narrative he employs to tell stories about characters and situations that do, have, and will exist; gently unmasking the psychological or emotional state of the subject, inviting the viewer to share and/or identify.

His works have been shown locally at Emerson Gallery at the McLean Project for the Arts, Hillyer Art Space, and the Adah Rose Gallery among others. Clients include Saatchi and Saatchi, American Airlines, Cava Mezze Restaurants, and the Mosaic Theater Company of Washington, DC.

The Cancer Fairy by Judith Swann

It was a small dark body, like a mouse.

Unemployed, it still drove the car,

pushing the TV out the passenger-side door,

yellow chyme and bile the color of grass,

like the time the Ferris Wheel made the little kids cry

at the Okoboji of slow dancing

There are things you can do with music

or, as in this case, with your voice.

Dense as fudge

it pullulated with margins outside

the half a permitted millimeter

of tissue-wrapped meat.

Tender slits healed as

she cried out for corporate capital,

offed her white negligee and wig,

disinviting them from her gondola,

it and its sleeper cells, daughter cells

for whom she had, unknowingly peeled

carrots and quartered pears in the Denver

of the stockyards.

We all came to hold her hand,

the dancer, the flight attendant, the nurse,

the teacher, the librarian,

all dripping tears

silly with love, the light

shedding like a dog in August,

an old dog.

judy_swannJudy Swann is a poet, essayist, editor, translator, blogger, and bicycle commuter, whose work has been published in many venues both in print and online. Her book of letters, We Are All Well : The Letters of Nora Hall, appeared in 2014.

Image: Ferdinand Hodler, Valentine Godé-Darel one day before her death

The Substance of Glass by Michael Janis

Glass is a seemingly untamable medium, continually floating in the lingering discourse between Art and Craft.

For those outside the Art world: if something can be used for a purpose (for instance a bowl) it’s often considered a work of Craft, and if it not, it can be considered a work of Art.

Echoes of Leaves and Shadows, 2016, Michael Janis; photograph by Pete Duvall

Since the start of the Studio Glass Movement, in the 1960’s in the United States, glass artists have worked the medium to communicate their concepts. While some artists continue to reflect the deep history of glass with traditional techniques, I explore contemporary art rather than craft production.

I make my glass powder drawings by sifting finely crushed colored glass onto sheets of flat glass. By scraping and scratching the powder with an X-acto knife or a rubber tipped shaper, I can create incredibly detailed imagery. I have an almost obsessive focus that served me well when I was an architect, and now allows me to sit for hours maneuvering frit powder into intricate forms that populate my narratives. I like engaging others with what I make, and incorporating both abstract and representational forms gives me the ability to tell stories and make the artwork something not just by me, but of me.

Luminescence, 2016, Michael Janis; photograph by Pete Duvall

I try to control and manipulate glass dust into precise patterns, but once the work is loaded into the kiln, the heat and physics of the glass takes over and reshapes whatever I had created. The intense heat causes the glass to flow and move – and this often alters the glass colors and traps air bubbles in unexpected ways. I’ve come to accept this result as a kind of organic quality that is part of the firing process. To cover my bases, I do a mojo dance to appease the kiln gods for a successful firing.

Besides making my own artwork, I am one of three Co-Directors of the Washington Glass School and Washington Glass Studio. For the Studio projects, I am challenged to work in different scales and methodologies. It helps to be flexible in design when working on public art sculpture, as many factors and outside players can have control over the resulting artwork. Many times the original concept has to be heavily modified and a more collaborative approach implemented. For the internally illuminated public art sculpture installed at Prince George’s County’s new Laurel library, the residents of the area were invited to make the inset panels in a series of glass quilting-bee workshops held at the Washington Glass School. In making the artwork in a collaborative way, we wanted to increase the place-sensitivity and create a tribute to the community’s identity. The neighborhood residents were excited to be able to see their glass artworks assembled into a tower and they feel really connected to the artwork.

At the Washington Glass School, the students and artists are encouraged to learn their craft, and then move beyond technique. This spring the Washington Glass School and the Virginia Glass Guild are hosting a joint exhibition, Embracing Narrative, as part of the Glass Art Society conference that will be held Norfolk, Virginia. The juried show, at the Portsmouth Art & Cultural Center from March 3 – June 4, 2017, will examine the art of storytelling, personal experiences, and social commentary through sculptural works in glass.

Michael Janis, portrait by Bob Severi

Michael Janis developed a focus on glass after working for twenty years as an architect in the United States and Australia. Co-Director of the Washington Glass School, Janis has also taught at the UK’s National Glass Centre at the University of Sunderland, Penland School of Crafts, California’s Bay Area Glass Institute, Cleveland Institute of Art, and The Glass Furnace (Istanbul, Turkey). Awarded a Fulbright Scholarship in 2012, he became an Artist-in-Residence at the Institute for International Research in Glass (IIRG) at the University of Sunderland. Janis’ artwork has been shown at major galleries and international art fairs and is included in the permanent collection of the Art Institute of Chicago. In 2011, Janis had a solo exhibition of his artwork at the Fuller Craft Museum (Massachusetts), and was named a “Rising Star” by the Creative Glass Center of America. The James Renwick Alliance named him “Distinguished Artist 2013/2014 and had him present his work at the Smithsonian American Art Museum. Janis was awarded Washington, DC’s prestigious Mayor’s Arts Award for Excellence in the Arts in 2016. His work is represented by Maurine Littleton Gallery in Washington, DC, Habatat Galleries in Royal Oak, MI, and Stewart Fine Art, Boca Raton, FL.

Featured image in this post is the Public Art Glass created for the Laurel, Maryland Public Library by the Washington Glass Studio.

Nuts by Melanie Bilkowski

2

Today is just another

Peanut Butter and Jelly day.

0.75 cents per sandwich retail.

But by the time

My daughter is 35,

I am sure that it’ll be triple that

Amount.

Unless we run out of

Peanut Butter

or Bees

or we just die

all together.

mel-bilkowski

Mel Bikowski wears many faces in this life. Poet. Mom. Wife. Artist. Dancer, Traveler, Hiker. Friend. Lover. She has poems published in Elephant Journal, GERM Magazine, and Quail Bell Magazine. She is currently studying Interdisciplinary Studies at Old Dominion University. Her abstract paintings can be found on her website along with personal realizations, meditations, journal entries, and a frame of her life in Alexandria, VA. Her Website: www.melbikowski.com

Image by Kimberly Vardeman – https://www.flickr.com/photos/kimberlykv/3740704177/, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=50824392