Synaesthesia
Issue #2 March 2016
The elements: Earth Wind Water Fire
Synaesthesia magazine#2
The elements
Synaesthesia Magazine #2 The Elements Hipérbole Ediciones 2016 Edition by Hipérbole Ediciones Team Cover photo by ‘Upon a Painted Ocean’, Hondartza Fraga Printed in Santiago of Chile First Edition Contact: hiperboleediciones@gmail.com This magazone has been published under a Creative Commons License – Non Commercial – No Dervis – 3.0 unported. We have adopted Creative Commons licensing beginning with our issue #2. We readily grant reprint permission for earlier copyrighted materials, upon request.
Synaesthesia magazine#2
The Elements
index Editorial
05
earth
06
wind
11
Illustrations
16
water
21
Fire
26
Authors
31
Contact
35
N°2: the elements Editorial______________________________________________ The elements. The so called cornerstones of the existence of the Earth by many indigenous cultures. The four elements, earth, wind, fire, water, have been a matter of subject by many cultures, among them the Mapuche. Under their view of the world it can be distinguished a vertical dimension (metaphysical) and a horizontal one (nature), with one number as the element of balance: four. Four are the holly divinities. Four are the skies. Four are the corners of the Earth. Four are the elements. However, today we see a globalised, capitalised civilisation which has been vanished from these elements: man wanted to know about them and in this way to master them. A mastery which is expressed by a constant climate change, a change that has only one purpose: the return of the equilibrium to our home. That is why in the issue number two of Synaesthesia Magazine we decided to find out what is the perception we have about this concept. How much has the Mapuche view of the world changed to what we see today? Do we believe and respect the elements? If there are no elements, what’s the cornerstone in us? These questions may or may not be answered in this issue. The order of the pieces of word included in this issue is divided into four categories, each of them representing the four elements of our existence. With lot of hope and simplicity, we introduce you the second issue of Synaesthesia Magazine. HipÊrbole Ediciones Team https://www.facebook.com/HiperboleEdiciones 05/Synaesthesia Magazine
Maximiliano Bolados
Gianfranco Marchant
To My Seed
The Earth: Where Everything Is Born and Dies
There will be left only Dry and broken furrows Which were Impatient fast-flowing rivers To fill the life in the valleys. The air will be thick Dirty and stifling Like a hell on surface. The soil will lie dead dried and dead, like the corpses who rest on it. Will you judge me looking At me with your angry face asking for explanations? I could tell you That it isn’t my fault That the man is brainless That the system That the dirty money But, Could I say it is not my fault?
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Where everything is born and dies Undeniable shelter of what we were Small kids from the neighbourhood Its games and imperfect street football matches Main ingredients of kid’s cake Undeniable entertainment and The first guilty pleasure of our Childish lives. The Earth, where everything is born and dies The last blanket that will shelter us in the infinite To my grandpa, to my granny To my friends, to myself and so many others. The Earth, which will serve us as worms’ banquet She brought us She gave us the Path under our shoes And she will return us to The origin of what we were.
Valentina Javier
Marlene Huerta
Freedom Woman
Federico Beltrán Oviedo
To be born again, Honey nectar Worms in the heart In the new dawn A reconciliation slogan flowered: For herself For you Just listen: it is so big the recognition of a new freedom! “Set up in yourself, Live in yourself” Bleeding from farewell, Shining under the sun; Resting of the urban flight Of your Street song Swallow of spring avenues. You go in and leave And you always end up Being you Being you.
I tried to figure out what Federico Beltrán Oviedo was doing twenty years ago, scanning all the clues that I found in the old pictures and in his day of birth, but nothing gave me information about his past. I concluded that he was alone, under an old tombstone and a pile of soil. Maximiliano Bolados
Wine Birth This land gave birth to the wine With carefully patience And rigorous prudence, To the light of a divine sun Veiling over its destiny. The Earth is a nice Jesus Christ Turning water in red: The world fits in a glass, Sweet taste in the mouth, Have a drink, I demand!
The Elements/08
Felipe Labra
There are no more questions Sometimes I enjoy The polluted air That fulfils my lungs And erodes plantations Sometimes I like The soil Forgotten and dry That supports my pressures And shut its pains up Sometimes I enjoy The water Sweetly treated That goes out from the rusty pipes Of my apartment. Sometimes I like The plants That multiply their anxieties Of knowing how to talk And communicate us That we are killing them With these neo – elements, Remanufactured. Sometimes I wonder If we are visionary enough Not to realise That we weren’t’ That our moment already gone
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Will we be infinitely blind to realise that soon we will no longer see answers nor fixes? Will it be the following ones Who achieve to follow smoothly, knowing us? There are no more questions.
Joaquín Eguren
Urban Heraclitus The sopaipilla food cart we saw yesterday, is it the same today?
Gerardo Jara
The Santón Maximón* Maximón smokes its cigarette at night In April, In its hand it carries the liquor, It is paid attention as if it were alive, It is invited to every house. It introduces itself and they say welcome And take it as a friend It is only its inhabitants who understand these things That they have to hurry up to receive it In the best possible way Anybody could see the rites Of a mixture of pre – Columbian and Hispanic cultures, Setting it up with the element at hand. Carving its factions on the wood Semi – man, semi – god who knows The peasants’ pains.
*Jara, G. (2015). Pueblo Amplio (1ª ed.) Santiago de Chile: Opalina Cartonera.
The Elements /10
Maximiliano Bolados
Valentina Javier
Wind Echoes
Untitled
Are you talking to me Through the wind? The leaves shake While I think in your silence, It could be the wind whispering Your advices. When you left, did you Leave an echo? That’s the reason I remember the last song You whistled, Or the reason because The sound of the sea and its Foaming hands kneading The rocks Is always with me. They say that when we leave We will be dust, Maybe some of us Will be air.
And be cloud And be blue Seaweed On the edge; Embroidered by butterflies. Stop making up tales That never existed. Stop building cardboard Wounded Lost Castles And be sea And be hill To breathe together One morning No plans No premeditated fluttering.
The Elements /12
Jacob Garay
Absence You, that avoided it How did you do it? The rebelliousness of our flesh Condemned us to its silence And brought with it the absence. In this carcinogenic chaos I also live from greed; I know death will come Exasperating. Now I don’t feel the rain On my forehead. Umbrellas justify the soul’s black out, the self-condemnation The fire, still sacred, Bothers, burns consciences Boiling subtleties; It is an honest spit on the face, Never ending laugh of incandescence lava. The unjustified, Vast fury Was the burning prostitute In the plantations; Knocked down the black in agony And turned red The sweet of his skin.
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The Earth is not soil, it’ weeping The sweetness of the fruit is missing. The air fulfils me of sorrow Doesn’t carry good news In the lungs, they play naughtily, Flight, agony and horror Its rubbing is no longer tender It turns uncertain and bitter. This, which is a lament, It will be cried by the sons, maybe They will harvest absence in the grey, vast fields. Throw you arrow Indian! I want to avoid this absence That its blade shakes the over time That penetrates and destroy this Selfish heart And in this way gives the reason to the bow. Enjoy my freedom To avoid this absence.
Gerardo Jara
Itz or the Dew*
*Jara, G. (2015). Pueblo Amplio (1ª ed.) Santiago de Chile: Opalina Cartonera.
As poured in the tears of coolness, Morning’s blessing in the leaves Blueish among the flowers That are speeded up by the lips Among the young Indian Muses, Painted by so much charms, That eternal dew that Blesses them on their heads That go dressed for their lovers In the wind they perfume Their attractive traits. Engraving Eyes of the bow of their eyebrows Which fall deeply Which throw their arrows that wounded us of lasting love, It is to petrify warriors’ hands And turn their sights to the light shadow Women of forest dews Of your mystic panther, To hunt, to be born, to give love And they don’t let you weave their song. And you sing at night the pleasure Of the sleeping sun, That you give his child In the opening of the Lotus’ flower.
The Elements /14
Joaquín Eguren
Tatiana Cárcamo
Wushu
Wind
In the middle of the end of the world He crosses me up and down Left to right Among glaciers, caves and forest He came to hide As pristine and soft song That gives free run to its ideas, Ideas of Patagonian people Blood and fire over the Paine Whispering the origin of the being Counting the days of the past and future, It closes my eyes And reminds me That we are all sons of mother Earth.
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To my puppy Look inside your eyes It’s calm It’s to see the story Of our days Looking as if it wasn’t more Conveying like this What I cannot remain silent. And even though words are not enough Here they are I will never be able to find Wind more refreshing As yours When I feel stifled.
‘The Earth” by Lusana Ávila https://www.flickr.com/photos/lusanirijilla/, Licensed in http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/
‘Wind’ by Sol Caraves https://www.facebook.com/situacionestupefacientes rockfutbolsaladeensayo/ Licensed in http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/
‘Water’ by Sol Caraves https://www.facebook.com/situacionestupefacientes rockfutbolsaladeensayo/ Licensed in http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/
‘Fire’ by Sol Caraves https://www.facebook.com/situacionestupefacientes rockfutbolsaladeensayo/ Licensed in http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/
Maximiliano Bolados
Romy Riq
I’d like to be Water
Dance
I’d like to be a drop that falls And swims in uncertainties: be the drop that falls From the shower to you hair Or kiss your face As a salty ocean drop, Become river’s water And run from the hill to you, Wandering in your fields, Your valleys and gullies.
Dancing with your shadow’s mark Under the gloomy rain and to transmute our laugh In clandestine dialect To let the drops… Make projections And give to the skin What it belongs to it To taste in the distance The fluorescence of your scent To name you until evangelize you As a divine mantra And to break The transmissible cliché Succumbing to heathen verses Drowning in the wet Of your verb Leaving the silence For the dawn.
To be the drop Of your glass of water, To live in the bird’s sing Which your mornings begin, or to be in the apple You bite carefully. The road is uncertain, But if I were water, truth is you would be My destiny.
The Elements /22
Marlene Huerta
Torrent When Rebeca descended by the banks to the river, she felt like flying. She was so fast that the wind could not stop her, tress were gossiping trying to come up with conclusions of what could happen to the girl by running too fast, although nobody hit the nail on the head. When she got to the river, she stopped suddenly, kneed on the bank and carefully examined millions of drops who were moving fast in front of her eyes. She stayed still, her sight staring the water. Tress started to worry and the wind speeded up its pace among them, as wanted to reach the girl before she made something crazy. Then Rebeca stretched her long arms until she touched the water and taking a deep breath she submerged in the river to catch that book of old pages, which is the only memory of his dying day. And without further delay, Rebeca, the book and water became just one.
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Valentina Javier
Gerardo Jara
Habitare
Water Ritual*
I managed time to my thought, I was rain and water everywhere I went to. I wanted to talk about time… Undecipherable Equidistant And wet. The resonant, constant question Arising as mountain’s echo Every time, every moment. There was not love, There were not traits Not even the path was real. Nothing had been found yet And it was that nothing Which would be found me somewhere with myself.
Ceremonial seat brought to the circles of this blood. Gathered in the sun with the moon Looking at each other Before the threshold, The reconstruction of the act Inside the jungle Eyes of the frightened toucan In the theft of a skull to another world. It is the cloud which is condensed To set course the rain’s task, To the dances of the bodies In front of the god Shak Who was seen in the first petals in the morning.
*Jara, G. (2015). Pueblo Amplio (1ª ed.) Santiago de Chile: Opalina Cartonera. The Elements /24
JoaquĂn Eguren
Tatiana CĂĄrcamo
ESMAL
27
What do I know about water? Water belongs to ESVAL It is trapped in a cup Full of fluorescent liquids Running through my city Uphill total polluted Downhill with higher pressure Pure it is not, Neither is ours, ESVAL Synonym of evilness She changed, she melt away The soil cried Seeing his friend Kidnapped by the progress.
One day Soil and water Got their revenge. They left us with no shoes, No roof And no family.
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Romy Riq
Valentina Javier
Confusion
Dual Woman
The “Meche” is burning In a war at herself Her sex becomes A gauzy excuse Of what futile everything Has come to be The city is burning and in the tongue’s tuning fork The confu-sion light son After a wasted moan in this mess called soul The “Meche” is burning And has dressed as the death Rising dust Plastered with transactions Under artificial light In the alley where one day She said to herself That we would ascend Attracted by the confusion Of a city on fire.
Growing rising body belly woman to the sun. Procreator of fish kids Swimming flying over native breasts. Flee as butterfly Cocoon heart Andean wind sounds that you Knew sing, caress and dance it as a contemplation of birds And ostriches. As mountain and river. A spring of water where You lay on your sisters’ feet the life. Haze high hill. There you rise to the vindictive cry, To hope to be there, Stealthy and serene; Slow as the voice that you fear That you loose As it can’t handle it anymore.
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Joaquín Eguren
Dispensable I love you, You light up my dream every day; Your light reflects over my yellowish, eroded smile You light up my eternal pleasure You are the genie in the bottle You get out To the rhythm of my snaps Wherever and whenever I want I carry you with me In numerous cans of polymers I’m your owner, I determine your shape and space Ah, what would I do without you? I’d probably buy another lighter, I would light up a cigarette And after that, You would go straight into Trash can, Let’s face it You and I become disposable.
The Elements /28
Maximiliano Gálvez
Untitled I was told to write something about the elements, the four elements. I have always thought that they are very few and that’s something I don’t like that much. The alchemists thought that the union of these four would result into a fifth element able to turn metals into gold. Alchemists called them as initiation elements and each of them was symbolised by a triangle. I see some of them alchemy engraving and I don’t understand a shit, they are all naked, making weird faces and posing with triangles on their hands. And if it that wasn’t enough, it seems everybody speaks Latin. But, it turns out that I like triangles and I stay still watching the scenes. I think somehow they remind me of you. I like those triangles who live in you. Those tiny triangles spread over your body. I have this strange theory that they occasionally move and sometimes one of them disappears and then gets back, like somebody who goes and buys some cigarettes. Three moles on your cheek framed my favourite triangle. I can’t stand of biting it. But I restrain myself as I always do when I’m with you. So I just watch how the air is contained after each breath of a menthol cigarette. Other times I contemplate how your laugh gets wider. It’s there where you twist yourself with laughter and I make my mow to see the triangle that lies as a warm keeper in your breasts. Three dots keep that chaos full of meaning which you represent, that risky perfect construction you seem to be. Everything is alive in you, I’d like to tell her. You are Mystic Soror I’d like to shout her while she takes the bus that takes her away from me. Let me discover again the wet triangle of your pubis, I’d like to tell her. But it seems nasty to me. It’s just I am very pedestrian and you look more celestial every day, more galactic. I am as earthly as the triangle I 29/ Synaesthesia Magazine
have on my chest, it0s just I look at it and I like to believe that it is there for yours. Even more when I find out rummaging around it, digging, as if you were not satisfied with the metaphor and you would like to stick you in my inside. Then I want to whisper sweet nothing and tell you that we will achieve the fifth element in our union. Because you are pure alchemy and I am the most mystical of our generation.
The Elements /30
Authors Maximiliano Bolados San Antonio, Chile Sea Man | Poet | Lost mbolados@renare.uchile.cl
Gianfranco Marchant Santiago, Chile Writer| Poet | Painter | Drawer | Vegan | Ecologist gianfrancomarchant.b@gmail.com
Valentina Javier Salvador de Jujuy, Argentina Impregnable Witch | Dreamer | Creative until tiredness | Walker valentina.javier12@gmail.com
Marlene Huerta Santiago, Chile Explorer | Free | Short – Story Teller lipss3@ug.uchile.cl
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Autores Felipe Labra Santiago, Chile Sometimes Engineer | scientist | Politician | Traveller | Photograph| Musician | Writer f.labra.o@gmail.com
Joaquín Eguren Ciudad Capital, Chile Languages | Football | Nostalgia | Referee joakoeguren@gmail.com
Gerardo Jara Chile Chilean Poet | Self - Taught | 1980 gerardo.sepulveda@mayor.cl
Tatiana Cárcamo Ñuñoa, Chile I have | 1 | editorial t.carcamo.r@gmail.com
Los Elementos/32
Autores Jacob Garay Santiago, Chile Observer | Writer | Fans of the beauty of nature marcosgarcia_g@gmail.com
Lusana ﾃ」ila Santiago, Chile Drawing| Painting | Dreaming lusana.avila@gmail.com
Sol Caraves Buenos Aires, Argentina Illustrator | Visual Artist solcaotica@gmail.com
Romy Riq Chile Visual Artist | Mother | Sushi | RPG l.beleth@gmail.com
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Autores Maximiliano Gรกlvez Santiago, Chile Mason | Radical | Fire Fighter | Mythomaniac fm.galvez@live.cl
The Elements /34
Contact If you liked the magazine, would like to participate in the next issue or would like to publish with us, you just have to write at hiperboleediciones@gmail.com or check our social networks: www.facebook.com/HiperboleEdiciones www.hiperboleediciones.blogspot.cl www.twitter.com/hiperboleedicion www.issuu.com/hiperboleediciones
Looking forward to you!
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"We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don’t know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; but we can’t accept it for what is.” Solaris 1979
The elements – Synaesthesia Magazine by Hipérbole Ediciones Printed in February 2016 at the workshops of Hipérbole Ediciones www.hiperboleediciones.blogspot.cl
40 copies issued all carefully folded by the editor team
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