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k nack magazi ne / issue eight
KNACK is dedicated to showcasing the work of new artists of all mediums and to discussing trends and ideas within art communities. KNACK’s ultimate aim is to connect and inspire emerging artists. We strive to create a place for artists, writers, designers, thinkers, and innovators to collaborate and produce a unique, informative, and unprecedented web-based magazine each month.
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WILL SMITH Co-Founder, Photo Editor ANDREA VACA Co-Founder, Art Director, Production Manager ARIANA LOMBARDI Executive Editor JONATHON DUARTE Creative Director, Design
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KNACK ARTMAGA ZINE.COM K N ACK M AGA ZINE1@ GM A IL .C OM
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IS SU E EI G HT
Artist Biographies . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4-5 Bailey Schaumburg. . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Fernando Gaverd . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Leo Goodman. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Ben Kline. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Submission Guidleines . . . . . . . . . . . 40
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BAILEY SCHAUMBURG
FERNANDO GAVERD
Originally from Lawrence, KS, Bailey traveled to Santa Fe, NM to study Creative Writing at Santa Fe University of Art and Design.
Fernando Gaverd is a graduate of Santa Fe University of Art and Design. He earned his Bachelor of Fine Art degree in Graphic Design. He is a co-founder of the design collective Hexagono Design. Fernando’s work consists of organic and hand-made elements within a gridded structure that is sometimes not noticeable. He considers his design work as a form of contemplative art.
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bailey.schaumburg@gmail.com
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LEO GOODMAN
BEN KLINE
Leo Goodman is a typographer and graphic designer hailing from Massachusetts, trained at the Santa Fe University of Art and Design in New Mexico. I don’t create most of my design, rather, something puts a scene in my head, and I try to translate it to print.
Ben Kline lives in Cincinnati, Ohio, works in higher education, and writes fiction, poetry and more, some of which he workshops and features on his NSFW multimedia idea blog Original Content Required. He was most recently published in Headmaster Magazine No. 5. klinedb@gmail.com
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BAILEY SCHAUMBURG C R E AT I V E W R I T I N G
I write what I see and what I know, with the flares of color the poems ask for. I’m inspired by the strange mixtures of words that come from people’s mouths, but more so by the peculiarities that often go unnoticed: movements, expressions, ticks. I aspire to write the colors of minds and bodies and the people who inhabit them. ...
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sabotage
i. blood, so much – it spurts from your arm like a loosed spigot, a cannon ready to blow shrapnel across filthy tiles, a red for cocktail dresses and sexual lipsticks, the rouge carpeting of a fancy-facade hotel ballroom with off-white linen tablecloths the washrag you rig around your arm begins leaking, weeping plasma onto the tile floor and when you pull it to your mouth to suck it makes a hissing whisper of a noise sinner mercy, caught somewhere within maraschino cherries in the refrigerator door and the gurgles of tanked individuals and a professor who looks at his students with inspired precision and asks:
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“art, or arse?”
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ii. sobbing in the shower isn’t actually that no one can see itnot even you, really, because droplets become droplets and swish down the drain in a pile bloodshot and all but outside, it is nothing short of shame, flush, and smile a fallacy
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iii. at seventeen you have cannibalized the meaning of intimacy at the foot of his bed, pulverized closeness like smashed pistachios you taught him to sleep upside-down in Februarythe most dreary of months
iv. cabinet crushing you imagine them to avoid the caricatured eyeballs leering from behind the barista bar as cabinet crushing exploding from all ends of the oak panels, their bindings intact and the sheets fluttering in the still air, dancing, as monarchs do, raving wild and freed from the nets of small children oh the sheets, they smell so fine –
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shaved strips of burning wood –
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v. your dreams become your only shared secret with yourself there is a man who watches you some nights he stands behind the corner coat rack and distorts his face before projecting his masks onto each of your walls his mouth moves but he never says anythingyou wake up feeling refreshed he is the only one who scares you anymore
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FERNANDO GAVERD GRAPHIC DESIGN
After being introduced to graphic design as contemplative art, the pursuit of more and different points of view of this practice has kept all doors open to a flexible and subjective perception of my surroundings. This maintains the curiosity and energy around the exploration of beauty among the absurdity of relative life. ...
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LEO GOODMAN GRAPHIC DESIGN
The result of a song putting a scene in my head, and I then try to translate that scene to paper/print. ...
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i’m giving you a nightcall to tell you how i feel i want to drive you through the night down the hills i’m gonna tell you something you don’t want to hear i’m gonna show you where it’s dark but have no fear there’s something inside you it’s hard to explain they’re talking about you boy but you’re still the same there’s something inside you it’s hard to explain they’re talking about you boy but you’re still the same i’m giving you a nightcall to tell you how i feel i want to drive you through the night down the hills i’m gonna tell you something you don’t want to hear i’m gonna show you where it’s dark but have no fear there’s something inside you it’s hard to explain they’re talking about you boy but you’re still the same there’s something inside you it’s hard to explain they’re talking about you boy but you’re still the same there’s something inside you there’s something inside you it’s hard to explain it’s hard to explain they’re talking about you boy talking about you boy but you’re still the same
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oh, my love look, and see the sun rising from the river nature’s miracle once more will light the world but this light is not for those men still lost in an old black shadow won’t you help me to believe that they will see a day a brighter day when all the shadows will fade away that day i’ll cry that “i believe!” that i believe
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oh, my love high above us the sun now embraces nature and from nature we should learn that all can start again as the stars must fade away to give a bright new day
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oh, my love look, and see the sun rising from the river nature’s miracle once more will light the world but this light is not for those men still lost in an old black shadow won’t you help me to believe that they will see a day a brighter day when all the shadows will fade away that day i’ll cry that “i believe!” that i believe oh, my love high above us the sun now embraces nature and from nature we should learn that all can start again as the stars must fade away to give a bright new day 27
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BEN KLINE C R E AT I V E W R I T I N G
My artistic intent changes like a pop star’s hairstyle. I oscillate between fiction, poetry, photography, essays, photo poems, audio/video pieces and whatever else falls out of my brain. My main impulse is to feel and be creative. Even if the result is garbage. Working in various formats/styles/genres proved challenging over the years. Previously I found it difficult to make my brain write fiction at the same time I was in poetry mode. Thus I would alternate between working on a novel manuscript for a few months, then spend a month taking photos, a season writing poems. This strange inner wall bothered me until I conceptualized a solution - my current ongoing project, a Tumblr blog titled Original Content Required. My simple manifesto - all the content is mine and original - has enabled me to conjure in all the areas I enjoy. The blog serves as workshop, idea garage, thought dump, testing center and more. I thoroughly enjoy it and am looking forward to utilizing it to move my work into new zones of creativity. ...
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delirium of the stye
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I have a stye in my left eye. It hurts. That sharp pinch of taut swell. It appears translucent, pink, like glass flesh. We are all pink on the deep inside until the cancer immaculately conceives and death takes its black crayon to your guts. I prefer to be not so morbid, but airplanes and trains fester with germs and ideas: a fiery break apart over ocean depth or gonorrhea making conjunctions on the handrail? Either as an outcome stinks, much like a skunk flat under eighteen interstate wheels at dawn. The pus hardens to crust before it dribbles, then crumbles and spreads. Enemy salt. And the skunk was of course a lover en route. Aren’t we all? Swooning, intent, yet adrift. I have a warm damp cloth pressed against my face. It cools too quickly, like internet lust. Would you rather sleep alone after a strange man’s dangerous embrace? Never mind a room of knives. Desire is bacteria resistant and disaster ready. 33
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going fast in loose directions
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I am not the slut you seem to think me to be. Or seem to want me to be. To facilitate something. You see me running in short shorts bare-chested. Going fast in loose directions. I am not the runner I would like to be. Drinking alone is a hunter’s game. I sit at home in sweatpants and watch tv. Wallowing like a seal on my sofa. I binge on ice cream and pretend to drink tea. To intimate nothing. Presumption is the sport of queens. I go on meaningful dates with unavailable men. We smile and fawn. Reciprocating with the fortitude of practice. I am not the lover I should want to be. I calculate risk without knowing the heart’s math. Its spreadsheets are infinite. I may have too much I in my life. Monumental amounts and incurable doses of me. I have photos fit for endless scrolling. Perpetual trolling is the new FBI. Vanity makes us wish eternity. I am too late to delete.
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i’ll never let me go
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But to where? I am here. I rarely veer. I am albatross, hill-people, and queer. These lines I write at a moment’s spur crack off my writer’s bone and travel the digiverse instantly simultaneous. A spill of 101011111110110101000010101011110011101010 10101110101010101 and so forth, so on, and so void of polarity despite the charges against good name, that human form of code. This is my copyright. Stop trying to make cents. And again with the 1 2 1 2 like a monkey, like a moose, like that albatross often mistaken for a goose, doing a dosey doe at an American Legion Hall on the river’s ugly south shore, high above the water where they spit their tobacco in dashboard styrofoam cups and still listen to George Jones. I am here. I have nothing to hide. I am under my words, though they do not speak for me. I am here to steer the sentence into the paragraph’s end, into the death of the point undecipherable from the start. Let me go. I am here. As much as I might like a rewrite.
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PHOTOGRAPHERS, GRAPHIC DESIGNERS & STUDIO ARTISTS Up to 10 high resolution images of your work. All must include pertinent caption information (name, date, medium, year). If there are specifications or preferences concerning the way in which an image is displayed please include them.
WRITERS K NAC K se e ks writing of all kinds . We will eve n conside r re cipes , reviews , and essays (although we do not prefe r any thing that is ac ade mic). We se e k write rs whose work has a distinc t voice , is charac te r drive n , and is subve rsive b ut tastef ul . We are not inte reste d in fantasy or ge nre f ic tion . Yo u may submit up to 2 5 ,0 0 0 words and as lit tle as on e . We acce pt simultan e ous submissions . N o cove r let te r n e cessar y. All submissions must be 12pt, Tim es N ew Roman , do uble -space d with page numbe rs and include your nam e , e - mail , phon e numbe r, and ge nre .
ALL SUBMISSIONS: KNACK encourages all submitters to include an artist statement with their submission. We believe that your perspective of your work and process is as lucrative as the work itself. This may range from your upbringing and/or education as an artist, what type of work you produce, inspirations, etc. If there are specifications or preferences concerning the way in which an image is displayed please include them. A brief biography including your name, age, current location, and portrait of the artist is also encouraged (no more than 700 words).
*Please title f iles for submission with the name of the piece. This applies for both writing and visual submissions.
ACCEPTABLE FORMATS IMAGES: PDF or JPEG WRITTEN WORKS: .doc, .docx, and RTF
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EMAIL: knackmagazine1@gmail.com SUBJECT: SUBMISSION (PHOTOGRAPHY, STUDIO ART, CREATIVE WRITING, GRAPHIC DESIGN)
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Missed a submission deadline? Do not fear! K N ACK oper ates on a rolling submission s ystem. This means that we w ill consider wor k from any ar tist at any time. Our “ deadlines� merely ser ve as a cutof f for each issue of the magazine. A ny and all wor k sent to knackmagazine1@ gmail.com w ill be considered for submission as long as it follow s submission guidelines. The day wor k is sent merely reflec t s the issue it w ill be considered for. Have questions or suggestions? E-mail us. We w ant to hear your thought s, comment s, and concer ns. Sincerely, A r iana Lombardi, Editor
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ISSUE 12 SUNDAY, AUGUST 11th
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KNACK is requesting material to be reviewed. Reviews extend to any culture-related event that may be happening in the community in which you live. Do you know of an exciting show or exhibition opening? Is there an art collective in your city that deserves some press? Are you a musician, have a band, or are a filmmaker? Send us your CD, movie, or titles of upcoming releases which you’d like to see reviewed in KNACK. We believe that reviews are essential to creating a dialogue about the arts. If something thrills you, we want to know about it and share it with the KNACK community—no matter if you live in the New York or Los Angeles, Montreal or Mexico.
All review material can be sent to knackmagazine1@gmail.
com. Please send a copy of CDs and films to 1720 West Alameda Street Santa Fe, NM 87501. If you would like review material returned to you include return postage and packaging. Entries should contain pertinent details such as name, year, release date, websites and links (if applicable). For community events we ask that information be sent up to two months in advance to allow proper time for assignment and review.
We look forward to seeing and hearing your work.
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