Ginger Networked feminism
Summer 2018
MISSION
GRACIE BIALECKI LEIGH SUGAR LAUREN BANKA
LIANA IMAM
Ginger maps networks of creative people. In keeping with the logic of a network, all of the contributors to this issue were referred by an editor or contributor from a previous issue. As a feminist publication, we are committed to supporting the work of self-identified women and queer/trans/gender non-conforming individuals and strive to share the experiences and distinctive voices of those who identify as such. Our goal is to produce a zine with a diverse range of forms, content, and viewpoints.
JOEY BEHRENS CARLA AVRUCH
LAURA PORTWOODSTACER
HAYLEE EBERSOLE
KAITLIN McCARTHY
COURTNEY KESSEL + DANIELLE WYCKOFF
AMANDA LÓPEZKURTZ
JAN TRUMBAUER COLLEEN DURKIN
JESSICA LAW
• • • • • • •
ISSUE 1 ISSUE 2 ISSUE 3 ISSUE 4 ISSUE 5 ISSUE 6 ISSUE 7
• • • • • •
CLAUDIA GERBRACHT
ISSUE 8 ISSUE 9
MARIE HINSON ALEX VALLS
ISSUE 10
MICHAELA RIFE
ISSUE 11 ANNE MAILEY
LEANNE BOWES
ISSUE 13
EMMALINE PAYETTE
CARLY FREDERICK
MARKEE SPEYER MEREDITH SELLERS
NATASHA WEST JORDAN REZNICK
CRAIG CALDERWOOD
MEGAN SICKLES
ERIC DYER
CAMERON RINGNESS TONI KOCHENSPARGER
MOLLY HAGAN
IRENE CAVROS
JANE SERENSKA OLIVIA JANE HUFFMAN
KRISTINA HEADRICK
ERICA McKEEHEN
CAITLIN ROSE SWEET
JESS WILLLA WHEATON
Summer 2018
MARIA STABIO
SONYA DERMAN
REBECCA BALDWIN
FELICIA URSO
MARIA R. BAAB
BRITLYNN HANSENGIROD
MARISSA BLUESTONE MISIAN TAYLOR
ANDREA GUSSIE
JACQUELINE MELECIO
NATALIE EICHENGREEN
ALEXIS CANTU
MS. NIKO DARLING
PAULAPART
DEVIN DOUGHERTY
HALA ABDULKARIM
2
DELILAH JONES
ISSUE 12
KERRI GAUDELLI
LEYLA TULUN
SOFIE RAMOS
SAM CROW
KAITLIN McDONOUGH
KATIE VIDA
RACHEL WALLACH
LA JOHNSON
HARRIS BAUER KATIE FORD
BRIE ROCHELILLIOTT
DOROTEA MENDOZA
ISSACHAR CURBEON
NP SANCHEZ
LAURA McMULLEN
RACHEL ZARETSKY
KRYSTA SA
ALLI MALONEY
RACHEL BRODY
ENA SELIMOVIĆ ARIEL JACKSON
BRIE LIMINARA
SOFIA PONTÉN
ELAINE HEALY
YI-HSIN TZENG
HERMIONE SPRIGGS
LAURA COOPER
CAITLIN WRIGHT
MARTY MANUELA
JESSE HEIDER
ISA RADOJČIC
NANDI LOAF FREDRIKA THELANDERSSON
WOLFGANG SCHAFFER IVY HALDEMAN
ASHLEIGH DYE HANNAH NELSONTEUSCH KATHARINE PERKO
CLARE BOERSCH
ANA GIRALDOWINGLER EEL COSTELLO
TRACI CHAMBERLAIN
ANNIK HOSMANN ELIZABETH SULTZER
STEPHANIE VON BEHR
ABIGAIL HENNING
HANNAH RAWE COURTNEY STONE MARTHA WILSON
ALEX CHOWANIEC
MOLLY ADAMS
CAROLINE LARSEN
JACQUELINE CANTU LEIGH RUPLE
JILLIAN JACOBS JULIANA HALPERT
JESSICA PRUSA
LANI RUBIN
SOPHIE OAKLEY
BRE WISHART
LEAH JAMES
MIMI CHIAHEMEN NATALIE GIRSBERGER
JOLENE LUPO
KASIA HALL
EMILY LUDWIG SHAFFER
JENNIFER WEISS
JENNY BLUMENFELD
LAURA BERNSTEIN
NICKI GREEN
PAOLA DI TOLLA
JEN COHEN JESSICA WOHL
MOLLY RAPP
EMILY ROSE LARSON
INDIA TREAT
SARA LAUTMAN DEENAH VOLLMER
NATALIE BAXTER
TYLER MORGAN
KATE WHEELER
BONNIE LANE
TIFFANY SMITH
MARIA NIKOLIS
BECKY BRISTER
HANNAH MODE AGROFEMME
KATHERINE TARPINIAN
ANNELIE McKENZIE
CATHERINE AZIMI
SOPHIE KNIGHT
KATY McCARTHY
HANNAH MCMASTER
ALYCE HALIDAY MCQUEEN
LAUREN ARIAN
AMY BERENBEIM
G I N G E R 3
4
Summer 2018
Issue NO 13 contributors Marie Hinson .... PAGE 07 Kaitlin McDonough .... PAGE 11 Caitlin Rose Sweet .... PAGE 16 Meredith Sellers .... PAGE 22 Katy McCarthy .... PAGE 27 Catherine Azimi .... PAGE 31 Misian Taylor .... PAGE 37 Craig Calderwood .... PAGE 46 Courtney Kessel + Danielle Wyckoff .... PAGE 53 Annelie McKenzie .... PAGE 59 Devin Dougherty .... PAGE 63 ms. niko darling .... PAGE 71
Co-founders EDITO R
Markee Speyer D E S IGN E R
Jacqueline Cantu
On the cover: Uncontainable by Caitlin Rose Sweet. Ceramics and water, performance in Le Petit Versailles Garden, NYC 2017
G I N G E R 5
Marie Hinson The Road Through South Pass
T
he Road Through South Pass is a dreamy reimagining of the mountain landscapes of western Wyoming. Moving between documentary, dance, and scenic photography, eight short film poems wind their way through expansive sage-brush plains, picture perfect snow-capped peaks, and clean-lined frontier architecture. Despite an appearance of openness, this part of Wyoming is tightly boundaried as it quickly becomes one of the most expensive and exclusive landscapes in the world.
CLICK TO WATCH THE TRAILER
The Road Through South Pass dwells on the lines both visible and invisible that we write into the land and through the land into our bodies. The two channel piece is permeated with a voiced text score from a handwritten notebook that serves as a diary or an incomplete atlas in a search for rootedness, place, and a way home. Exploring western Wyoming was a way to push my practice beyond my roots in the landscapes of Appalachia and the urban east coast. I grew up in the mountains of rural eastern Appalachia where I was raised in a white, evangelical homeschool community. I was taught to believe and act as if I were indigenous to the place. My family, as they would say, was “as old as the hills� here. But as an artist and a person of trans experience, leaving was a matter of survival.
M a r i e H i n s o n 7
These films are part of my ongoing to work to heal and reimagine my relationships to my body, land, community and place. They are an opportunity for reconsidering and coming to terms with the stories my people have written into the land about how we got there, who belongs in it and its separateness from our selves. CLICK TO WATCH A SCENE
In The Road Through South Pass, the first group of films studies the landscape cautiously: reflexively framing a window on the Teton mountainscape from a wildlife photographer’s home; gazing out in pleasure on expanses of warm color and light from a butte above a cowboy town; or tending gently to the gestures and emotions of tourists taking photos of a canyon in Yellowstone. The second group of films uses dance to open up a site of permeability between body and land. Choreographed on the open plains of South Pass, the immense path of migration for people and animals across the continental divide, it channels a restless energy counter to the stoic lines of the first set of films. Here it also engages the historic Oregon trail route from which all these lines originated, when white people, like myself took over possession of the land.
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Summer 2018
Filmed in collaboration with Babs Case, Luke Zender, and Michaela Ellingson of Contemporary Dance Wyoming, the movement shifts between improvisation, joyful play, and poised gesture. These dances offer a different kind of placemaking— bodily, impermanent, fluid. They remember the movement that brought us here, while giving form to the action of the lines that work on the land and our bodies to hold, erase, reframe, or rewrite.
Marie Hinson is an artist and cinematographer currently based in Philadelphia. She is the director of photography on Catherine Pancake’s forthcoming documentary Queer Genius featuring visionary queer artists Eileen Myles, Barbara Hammer, Black Quantum Futurism and Jibz Cameron. In her art practice, Marie uses experimental combinations of documentary, dance, performance, poetry, and installation to reimagine the sites and meanings of interaction between land, body, community, image and text. Her work has shown around the world, including the Montreal Underground Film Festival, the London and Porto Underground Film Festival, Icebox Project Space, and Unexposed Microcinema. Originally from the mountains of eastern Appalachia, Marie moved to Philadelphia for an MFA in film production. She an active member of Vox Populi, one of the longest running collective art organizations in the country. Her current experimental dance film, The Road Through South Pass, was shot in residency at Teton Artlab in Wyoming in collaboration with choreographer Babs Case and Luke Zender and Michaela Ellingson of Contemporary Dance Wyoming. • mariehinson.com
M a r i e H i n s o n 9
Kaitlin McDonough Some Suggested Strategies for Use During Heartbreak: to be used in conjunction with / in addition to your own personal strategies
Untitled (Allegorical Pulp) #4; 2018, ink, watercolor and acrylic on handmade paper; 11 x 10"
K a i t l i n M c D o n o u g h 11
Untitled (Allegorical Pulp) #8; 2018; ink, watercolor and acrylic on handmade paper; 10 x 8.5"
Strategies: Heartbreak; 2018
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Summer 2018
Untitled (Allegorical Pulp) #1; 2018; ink, watercolor and acrylic on handmade paper; 11.5 x 9"
Strategies: Heartbreak; 2018
K a i t l i n M c D o n o u g h 13
Untitled (Allegorical Pulp) #6; 2018; ink, watercolor and acrylic on handmade paper; 8.5 x 6.5"
Kaitlin McDonough paints exuberant abstractions, often incorporating objects and nontraditional supports. The resulting icon and allegorical paintings highlight her interests in performative language, strategy, and energy technology. McDonough received her MFA from Tyler School of Art and her BFA from Boston University, Summa cum laude. Her work has been exhibited throughout Italy—in Venice, Rome, Vicenza, Bologna, Verona—and in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Serbia. Kaitlin has participated in a residency at the Vermont Studio Center and is currently a member of the Faculty at the New York Studio School. kaitlinmcdonough.com • Instagram: @kaitlinzorah 14
Summer 2018
Caitlin Rose Sweet
I
have raised my fist in anger surrounded by a crowd screaming. This same hand has slipped in and out of my lover’s body, smoothed the hair of a friend in need, and pinched wet clay into a vessel. My body is a site of resistance, pleasure, comfort and a tool for creation. I am an affect alien operating on the edges of society and use this difference to craft objects that reflect the struggle, rage, and pleasure of queer embodiment in a world that consistently erases our voices, communities, labor, and bodies. My ceramics practice is a messy entanglement of feminism, craft, and decorative art with a focus on the role that domestic objects play in the formation and maintenance of cultural identity throughout time. The objects we use and collect tell stories about who we are as individuals and how we connect to the collective. I am interested in the reciprocal relationship between how we shape objects to serve us and how our bodies in return are shaped by the objects that surround us. I complicate forms in order to express the expansive potentiality of queerness and its ability to value bodies outside of a normative capitalist construct of labor, hierarchy, and productivity. The vessels are not passive receivers but evolving hungry beasts that drip with desire, love, and the refusal to perform expected functions -- symbolizing the feeling of opening up space for bodies to transgress their containment. “The skin connects as well as contains.” —Sarah Ahmed “The hand knows what the hand does.” —Raymond Tallis “This is just what queer critique must do: use our historically and presently quite creative work with pleasure, sex, and bodies to jam whatever looks like the inevitable.” —Elizabeth Freeman
More Than a Woman, 2013
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Summer 2018
Uncontainable, ceramics and water, performance in Le Petit Versailles Garden, NYC, 2017 (Carmel Brown with Mother and Child vessels)
C a i t l i n R o s e S w e e t 17
ABOVE LEFT Untitled (breast), 2017 ABOVE RIGHT Uncontainable, ceramics and water, performance in Le Petit Versailles Garden, NYC, 2017 RIGHT My Body is a Weapon, ceramics and gold leaf, 2015
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Summer 2018
Uncontainable Vessel (Gusher detail), 2017
C a i t l i n R o s e S w e e t 19
The Future is Female (spider #3), 2015
Caitlin Rose Sweet is a multimedia artist who utilizes craft, video, and performance to question constructs of the body, sexuality, and what it means to be functional. Sweet prioritizes moments of mess, queering objects and entangled intimacies. The scale of her work ranges from small function pieces to large scale installations. She spends most of her time in her Bushwick studio making psychedelic ceramic smoking vessels and cuddling her tiny dogs. Sweet has a MFA from the Applied Craft and Design PNCA/OCAC and has shown internationally. caitlinrosesweet.com • caitlin@caitlinrosesweet.com• Instagram: @caitlinrosesweet 20
Summer 2018
Shadow_IMG_2487_ vanderWeydenDescent, 24 x 60", Oil and acrylic on panel, 2018
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Summer 2018
Meredith Sellers
M
eredith Sellers’ paintings consider solipsism, notions of ownership and appropriation, and the cycle of consumption and apathy through the frame of the window as both an architectural and a digital space. Painting has been discussed as a window since the Quattrocento, illusionistically offering a view into another realm outside our own. Since then, another window has become a pervasive presence in our daily lives—the screen. Both act as portals or gateways, one static and familiar, the other infinite and labyrinthian. Sellers’ paintings depict windows that are obfuscated, curtains drawn, providing only glimpses into stock photos and borrowed images: a melting Arctic ice shelf, an advertisement for underwear, an arid desert, the limp hand of van der Weyden’s grieving Madonna. Mediated images collide, acquiring new contexts and begging the question of how we choose to engage—or disengage— from the reality that goes on outside our windows.
Shadow_IMG_2487_ vanderWeydenDescent (detail), 24 x 60", Oil and acrylic on panel, 2018
M e r e d i t h S e l l e r s 23
3.jpg.CROP.promo-xlarge_BruntIceShelf_curtain, 24 x 60", Oil and acrylic on panel, 2018
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Summer 2018
3.jpg.CROP. promo-xlarge_ BruntIceShelf_ curtain (detail) 24x60� Oil and acrylic on panel, 2018
3.jpg.CROP. promo-xlarge_ BruntIceShelf_ curtain (detail) 24 x 60" Oil and acrylic on panel, 2018
Meredith Sellers is an artist and arts writer living and working in Philadelphia. She is an editor for Title Magazine, a 2018 Flaherty Fellow, and a participant in the 2017 Art Writing Workshop through the Andy Warhol Foundation. She has exhibited work at ICA Philadelphia, Lord Ludd, Vox Populi, Icebox Project Space, Black Oak House, Pilot Projects, and Delaware County Community College. meredithsellers.tumblr.com • @mmerde___
M e r e d i t h S e l l e r s 25
Katy McCarthy We’re Having A Ballast
A set of sandbags made of Victorian damask fabric worn on the body instigate a surreal and performative discussion about femininity and Victorian era strictures.
K a t y M c C a r t h y 27
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Summer 2018
Katy McCarthy is a research-based artist working primarily in video. Her work laminates historical moments with contemporary experience, often focusing on the historicization of gender and identity. She has been an artist-in-residence at Grin City, Iowa and The Wassaic Project in Wassaic, NY. Her work has been shown at Sleep Center Gallery; Flux Factory; Santa Barbara Contemporary Art Museum; Santa Barbara Museum of Art; Tiger Strike Asteroid Los Angeles; and NURTUREart’s 2018 Single Channel: Video Art Festival. She received her MFA from Hunter College. katymccarthy.com • Instagram: @miiccarthy
K a t y M c C a r t h y 29
Catherine Azimi Earth and Sky
Consider that the experience of being on spaceship earth is unsettling and euphoric in turn.
Cosmic Necklace / autobiographical debris, paint, colored pencil, graphite, pastel, tape and glue on paper / 23" x 25" / 2017
C a t h e r i n e A z i m i 31
Five-dimensional Drawing / autobiographical debris, paint, colored pencil, graphite, pastel, tape and glue on paper / 23" x 11" / 2017
“ The first hours in space are no idyll. Either you are floating up from somewhere or you are turning backward somersaults. Your inner ear becomes like a compass whose pointer has suddenly lost the earth’s poles. You first hold on, letting go with trepidation, and then you find that there is nowhere to fall and that you simply hang in the same place.” —Georgi Beregovoy, Astronaut
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Summer 2018
I’d like to float but I’m afraid. In order to cope, I explore ways to visualize my position.
Moon Phase Satellite / autobiographical debris, paint, colored pencil, pastel, tape and glue on board / 8" x 14" / 2017
C a t h e r i n e A z i m i 33
Consider also that memory is easily attributed to inanimate objects—tokens and talismans of person, place and experience. I imagine that by working with this material, I play out some ancestral karma, a cause and effect chain marked by a simple desire for pretty shiny things.
Overview Effect / autobiographical debris, paint, colored pencil, graphite, pastel, tape and glue on paper / 22" x 18" / 2017
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Summer 2018
Sun Spot / reflected light on wall / life size / 2017
Catherine Azimi is known for building dynamic images out of paint, tape, colored pencil, chalk and a long list of found objects that includes paper ephemera, seashells, jewelry and feathers. She often references cosmological phenomena as a way to transform formless clutter into formal compositions. She is thoughtful about how she installs her work, using color and cues from each exhibition space to create an overall environmental design. Azimi has exhibited in Los Angeles, Joshua Tree, CA, Guangzhou, China, Daegu, South Korea, Barcelona and Berlin. When she is not in her studio, she works as a project specialist in the conservation and site management of modern built heritage. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband Ali and cat Monkey.
C a t h e r i n e A z i m i 35
Misian Taylor
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
Mixing Bowl
He stands at the stove in the center of the kitchen in the center of a valley on the left-hand side of the Mississippi, yellow mixing bowl in the crook of his right arm whisking flour ‘till it dissolves then siphons small ponds of batter onto the cast iron which was too heavy to make off with in my backpack when he died
///
I was eight when I met him my mom already enthralled drove us out to his bright house in the dark country, he made me a steak brought me a heaping bowl of ice cream swimming in chocolate sauce in the morning we hiked acres for tall mushrooms found only under dead Oaks my mom has always been after the spring’s second heavy rain starving and we have always been poor, so when she refused to come the two of us two plates deep at the Old Country breakfast buffet would collapse into grins we spent whole yards of summer elbowdeep in blackberry bushes had so many we’d freeze them by the gallon standing in the dirt field shoeless two strawberries in the mouth for each
one
in the
bucket /// In December I stand at the top of his stairs without calling first; on Wednesday he called to tell me about the dying populous of his gut, its inexorable diffuse; I stand in the dark hallway until
M i s i a n T a y l o r 37
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
he says hello?; nothing but his voice could have made me enter the room, the large space where his new body would be. I sat on my bed in Brooklyn and now I sit in the green wingback that once sat in his father’s office. Are you eating? I ask, he says no, doesn’t have to explain the last month of catatonia we watch Dexter we both like seeing death ruin only bad men from out of the quickening dark, he says you know what sounds good? That pie place in Lansing fifteen minutes later we are in the Toyota on 35 racing the current toward the bridge he almost looks unsick in the sunlight that has swerved across the river to slant across his face except the lymphoma has bloomed the nodes below his ears to gourds we are both obliged to the no small mercy of pill bloat filling out his shirt his shoulders once pulled birch trees from the woods now shrunken to knobs I am working on not staring I am working on not looking away
///
Up over the bridge and it could be 1999 he could be well the radio could be playing Back at One by Brian McKnight he would wink at my mom she would squeeze his hand I would roll my eyes in the backseat it could be too hot for him to cut wood so we are going to find deals at Horsfall’s Variety Store afterward we might get burgers before heading back to the valley to watch dusk descend around our bright home on my left still sits the apartment building my friends and I broke into when I was twelve after my mom left him on his four hundred acres my friends rushed into unfurnished rooms with unfurnished boys on the apartment’s new carpet I fell asleep in a warm beer stupor dreamt of him pulling me out of the house angry with love
///
The bowl is not there when he arrives in my apartment early August boxes stacked high in corners, things I am certain I will want in New York City he is here to take apart the bed he built me he is standing in my doorway 38
Summer 2018
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
under his left arm, a jar of in the fridge later package of venison wrapped
lemons;
he puts a jar of gin
he says for gimlets, in butcher paper, and
hands me a
winks
///
We pull up to the bakery, a small sign in the windows says sorry he is billowing this pie it is the ultimate who would be closed on a Saturday and maybe he means he has not left the house in weeks and this promise of pie was the only edible thing we pull into a grocery store to get milk I forget why I am in this state walk too fast do not realize until I see him struggling to keep up the man who taught me to throw a spiral tight in a perfect arch who beat me in every bicycle race for two decades who spent mosquito bit evenings teaching me to sink a ball from any point in the paint who bought a punching bag after seeing Million Dollar Baby taught me to knock the jaw off a statue how to tell the difference between an eagle a buzzard a hawk by considering wingspan now this
is shuffling is a normal trip
and crouched
we are both trying
he says grab a peanut butter hon
to pretend I stand in the aisle
staring blankly //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
M i s i a n T a y l o r 39
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// ///////////////////////////////////// what size peanut butter do you buy when the doctor says he will not make it to Christmas? there are only //////////// three //////////// weeks until Christmas how much can he ////////////// eat in ///////////// three weeks if I get a small one will I remind him of /////////////////////////////////////funerals if I get one too large will he cry in the aisle are you ready hon on the way to the cashier we pass a freezer of pies oooh let’s get a pecan! His eyes, alit; I open the door and grab a pecan; And a pumpkin; Oh! Cherry! My arms stack with boxes, I ask if he wants an apple pie. Absolutely.
Later, we stand
at the stove four pies open on the cold range our forks busy our eyes big amid daisy wallpaper he and my mom began ripping down a decade ago and never finished, acres of absence threatening to consume the whole field
///
There were afternoons on the front porch watching ruby throated hummingbirds sugar themselves giddy and the May morning we headed out to Amish country for pies because the sun was bright enough to last we rode easy in the old blue Toyota eating sun chips NPR humming under the whir of wheat fields barreling up and down the hills next to us
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Summer 2018
rain rot collapsed the front porch the Toyota rusted out we ate all the pie
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
///
He was supposed to become a doctor but had he not dropped out of med school to drive from Washington state to where the Mississippi river stitches together three states my mom would have never met him // in a picture above my desk he is smiling out of the driver’s seat of a blue van the one he stuffed with a twin mattress and a wood burning stove bought off an old caboose, the road is snow covered and long in front of him // when he made it back to Wisconsin he put a small down payment on a small piece of land lived out of his van while selling an acre of potatoes bell peppers strawflowers at a farmers market in the city // that garden paid the first year’s farm payment he told me at least twenty times // he wants me to do something sensible, take up his sweat-through capitalist work ethic // but I only write; I can only remember
///
He tamps apples into sugared butter // or bread slices into egg and milk // or bluegill fillets fresh from the river; from his hands; after scaling all eight fish, shaking, as Vicodin thins in his blood, he asks me to roll them in the Shore Lunch panko crumbs, asks me to place them in the cast iron half oil half butter, tells me, with precision, the exact moment to flip them NPR is on upholstering the soft slumping silences between us // the kitchen lightswum from twin windows above the dining room table // in winter, sun reflects off acres of snow // douses the house electric // in summer, dried red husks of dead beetles collect in windowsills // in autumn, a doe split open will hang from the support beam beneath the deck // now, though, my feet in socks still cold while the wood furnace in the basement spits away full of wood he split and split and split and split ///
He led the dog riddled with tumors unable to eat or drink
M i s i a n T a y l o r 41
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
into the field returned hours later backbent from heaving shotgun shell newly glinting in the sun catching the eye of a buzzard hawk circling a mile above his silence which he wore for months twenty-one days of being able to swallow only water and soda he told me to call 911 I spoke into the pale yellow phone its tendrilled and reaching cord I didn’t understand was a shotgun countless doses / doses / doses / / / / / / / / / / / /
/ / / / / / / / / / / /
hours
later
the morphine ushered him out
of the young river
of his body I fell through sobs in the hallway while his bloodgrown kids swallowed theirs next to his bed beneath which my backpack held a change of clothes his mixing bowl a soda I’d packed dumbly thinking he might want it on our way home.
/// 42
Summer 2018
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
career ? tenure ? salary ? mortgage ? boutique ? iPhone ? new car ?
chicken coop wool sweater cottonwood, cedar, birch acres rhubarb wood ax hand callus horse barn, cedar beams, salmon loaf
///
chili trembles in the crock pot the house hushed from a foot of snow covering it mom’s right hand fishing out a fistful of popcorn from the yellow bowl he writes the day’s high and low temperatures in his journal the fat feral tabby on his lap he puts a jack face-up on the table, nods, my turn
///
Tell me anything again. Tell me denim. Tell me fixed with my own hands. Tell me dinner’s ready. Tell me clear the euchre deck so you can put the mashed potatoes down. Tell me there’s more dead oak where these mushrooms came from. Tell me storm. Tell me it’s a real thunderboomer. Tell me the whole house a mud room. Tell me the dog’s underneath the burs. Tell me the kitchen tiles amuck with dried dirt. Tell me the corn is planted. Tell me the fish are biting down at Blackhawk. Tell me you’ll be home later. Tell me there’s ice cream in the freezer. Tell me you’re hankering. Tell me you’ll have another bowl. Tell me there’s a doe on the hillside as I come down the stairs. Tell me there’s pancakes. Tell me to journal. Every day. Tell me sudoku. Tell me punching bag. Tell me bottle rockets because Texas. Tell me bon fire. Tell me to go throw some wood in. Tell me to be careful. I throw the wood in, you split it. I am warm because you woke first I woke because you built the house
M i s i a n T a y l o r 43
MISIAN TAYLOR TITLE: MIXING BOWL GINGER SUBMISSION 20 MAY 2018
///
the mixing bowl has always been in always been at the end of hour drive.
the cupboard this
There has always been
beneath the stove-top. This house has road, at the end of a two-and-a-half-
a gallon of
gas station
ice cream
in the freezer.
There has always been a hole in the bridge. He wore the same t-shirts the day I met him til the day he died. The Christmas cloth has been on the table since my mother left. The mice still eat the bread. Only the top four stairs creak. The hummingbirds will come back awaiting the sugar drink he will not be here to make. It has always been in this cupboard, needing the dust. So when he said from his hospital bed the dark to its place.
a palm or good rinse to loose God. Pie sounds good, I moved in
Misian Taylor is a white-passing mixed-race queer from a working poor Midwest. Their work has been published in John Jay’s Finest, Our Lives, and the Yahara Journal. Find them in Brooklyn or on Instagram thanking hydrangea / memes / you. • @misiantaylor 44
Summer 2018
Craig Calderwood
Thinking About “The Best of Both Worlds�; 2017; dimensional paint, upholstery fabric, thread; 26 x 26"
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Summer 2018
16/T/California; 2015; Pen on Cotton paper; 8.5 x 11"
C r a i g C a l d e r w o o d 47
B.P.D.; 2015; Pen on Cotton paper; 8.5 x 11"
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Summer 2018
Gift Giver; 2018; dimensional paint, upholstery fabric, thread; 35 x 26.25"
C r a i g C a l d e r w o o d 49
Nicki With Gherkins; 2016; dimensional paint, upholstery fabric, Swarovski crystal, pen, thread; 57 x 39"
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Summer 2018
This Bloodline WIll Die With Me; 2015; Pen on Cotton paper; 8.5 x 11"
A self-taught artist, Craig Calderwood’s obsessively intricate drawings and sculpture deal with trans/queer identity, biodiversity, and continued attempts to “normalize” desire. Maneuvering through non-verbal communication, Calderwood employs bright, intricate patterns of hidden (and sometimes blatant) symbolism in her work to portray complex narratives engaging the highly personal to the fantasized. Hailing from the San Joaquin Valley, they now live and work in San Francisco, CA. Craigcalderwood.com • Instagram: @craigcalderwood
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Courtney Kessel + Danielle Wyckoff Which Witch
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hrough performative works, digital photography, drawings, and video and through feminist frameworks, Kessel and Wyckoff explores female friendship, place, the fleeting moment, and negotiation.
The series we call Which Witch addresses the levels, limits, and language of intimate gestures. Our collaborative work investigates this intimacy between two women in friendship and in cahoots, as an alternative to the popular-culture depictions of women being in competition with one another. We use threads and strands that are physical and verbal in our drawings, photographs, and videos; present images of the two of us sensing each other’s proximity; and layer language and action in order to explore communication, perspective, and hilarity through platonic love. The selection of works for Ginger chronicle our travels together. Through the use of panoramic photography and video, using our smart phones, we capture moments of our navigating the familiar and new, the ways in which we negotiate space, humor, and ultimately our deep trust of and connection with one another. Which Witch becomes a play on language and the notion that women doing things together without men must somehow be up to no good. We take on this stereotype of witchiness in contemporary times with our collaborative work and individual materials and art practices.
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WATCH ESCALATOR VIDEO HERE
WATCH BEACH VIDEO HERE
Originally from the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, USA, Danielle C. Wyckoff currently lives and works in Grand Rapids, Michigan, USA. She is an artist, scholar, and educator, teaching at Kendall College of Art and Design. Her work investigates how loving or losing love allows us to empathize with each other and how the action of narrating an experience affirms our existences. Combining her backgrounds in art, literature, and theatre, Wyckoff’s work involves installation, performance, narrative studies, works on paper, video, and sculpture. She travels, lectures, and exhibits her work internationally. Wyckoff holds a BA in Art and English with minors in Art History and Technical Theatre (1999) and an MA in English (2004) from Georgia College. She earned her MFA in Art: Printmaking (2010) from Ohio University. daniellewyckoff.com • Instagram: daniellecwyckoff 56
Summer 2018
Courtney Kessel is a mother, artist, academic, and arts administrator living and working in Athens, Ohio. Kessel exhibits and lectures on her work nationally and internationally. Through sculpture, photography, performance, video, and sound, her work strives to make visible the quiet, understated, and often unseen love and labor of motherhood. Her work transcends the local binary of public/ private and extends into the repositioning of the ongoing, nonnarrative, excessive dialogic flow that occurs within the domestic space. Kessel endeavors to create a space that examines language and maternity through a feminist lens thereby opening a dialog between what is seen and not seen. Education: MFA in Sculpture & Expanded Practices and a certificate in Women’s & Gender Studies (2012) from Ohio University, BFA in Sculpture from Tyler School of Art (1998). She studied at Temple University Rome, Italy from 1995-1996. Kessel is the Gallery Director for the Ohio University Art Galleries and teaches in the School of Art + Design at Ohio University, Athens, Ohio. courtneykessel.com • Instagram: courtneykesselart
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Annelie McKenzie Purses
Romance Purse (after Anonymous), oil and gesso on purse, 16 x 9", 2017
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Plein Air Purse (after Louise Catherine Breslau), oil and gesso on purse, 11 x 7", 2017
Artemesia Sequin Purse, oil and gesso on purse, 4.5 x 9 inches, 2017
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Summer 2018
First Steps Purse (after Marguerite Gérard), oil and gesso on purse, 6.25 x 11", 2017
Red Judith Purse (after Fede Galizia), oil and gesso on purse, 5.5 x 8", 2017
Annelie McKenzie makes paintings which explore the feminine in art practice and art history. Born in Montreal, Canada, she earned an MFA from California State University, Long Beach, in 2013, and a BFA from the University of Calgary in 1997. She has exhibited at Contemporary Calgary (AB), Stems Gallery (Brussels), Torrance Art Museum (CA), Fourteen30 Contemporary (OR), VENUS LA (CA), and other spaces throughout the USA and Canada. McKenzie works and lives in Los Angeles with her dog Steve. anneliemckenzie.art • Store: shop.anneliemckenzie.art • Instagram: @anneliemckenzie • Twitter: @__AM_ • Facebook: Annelie McKenzie, Artist
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Devin Dougherty
(three vases, various sizes) porcelain, clay, lustre and matte glazes, raku and pit fired; felted drawing with wools, dyes, strings, laces, paints; watercolor with gouache
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9" high, porcelain with lustre glazes, felted drawing with golf leaf, wools, threads, inks
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Summer 2018
7" wide, pit fired porcelain bowl with rose hip stains; watercolor drawing
8" wide pit fired porcelain plate with blue engobes
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(three vases, various sizes) porcelain and earthenware, pit fired and raku with red bronze, engobes and resist; felted drawing with wools, gold leaf, strings and paints
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Summer 2018
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2 12.5" high raku vases, porcelain with clear, silver and red bronze glazes and resist; felted drawing with wools, gold leaf and paints
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Summer 2018
10" high porcelain pit fired vase; felted drawing with wools, strings, gold leaf and paints
Devin Dougherty is a California native who lives for now in Brooklyn NY. She was an artist student in Paris (too late to meet Giacometti) and a radical feminist activist in the SF East Bay in the early days. She still is a painter—a painting of hers is the cover of Marsh Hawk Press’s “The Blue Hill” by Geoffrey O’Brien. She has made ceramics in Rome at C.R.E.T.A., at the ceramics mecca in Provence, Vallauris, and at the Byrdcliffe Colony in Woodstock. Her work is a response to her love of the Etruscans, Morandi, Veronese, Bonnard and love for African and Haitian dance and culture.
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ms. niko darling Male Studies
Male Studies is a work in progress series inspired by the 19th-century photographic anatomy studies by Thomas Eakins, and the work of the Guerrilla Girls in which they address the huge imbalance between the number of women artists and female nudes in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (5% women artists, 85% female nudes).
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Male Studies II
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Male Studies VII
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Male Studies VI
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Summer 2018
Male Studies V
ms. niko darling is a queer Uruguayan photographer, filmmaker and educator who lives in Brooklyn, NY. Her work has been exhibited nationally and internationally including the International Center of Photography, Aperture gallery, and Paris Photo. She is currently working on a short documentary film about Pisces Women in an effort to comprehend her undeniable attraction to them. pisceswomenfilm.com
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NO BODY SHAMING - TRANS FRIENDLY - EVERYONE IS WELCOME The Rack Shack is an all inclusive bra boutique in Bushwick Brooklyn that aims to empower all shapes, colors and genders. Bra sizes 28A-40HH and everything in between. If we do not have your bra size, we will order it for you. We are working on extending our bra sizes even more..
The Rack Shack - 155 Central Avenue, Brooklyn NY 11221 +1 347 915 0248 - therackshackbk@gmail.com - www.therackshackbk.com For updates follow us on
@therackshackbk