#30 ENG !"#$%&'(")*+,-./+0(1)23456467
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Mega*Zine Lost&Found #30/2021 SILENCE TABLE OF CONTENT:
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GALLERY
Grażyna Ambrożek
Grażyna Ambrożek AEGISart
https://www.facebook.com/ga.aegisart/
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GALLERY
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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Grażyna Ambrożek
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POETRY
Piotr Szreniawski
Nikolaos this is not a stage whisper actors perceive the intricacies they look for sources of deception in daggers near the throat and in the hand he scared me today rewarding at grace and discretion bad friend am I not to talk about the fall of the rule of law? you forbid to hear what fate says? Nicholas in Greek means victory of the people demos laos ethnos
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POETRY
Marek Trusiewicz
A sea of bodies. A piled up wave of corpses. A bloody mouth covered with unfulfilling. Suicides, loners - derailed people. Thrown out of the system, slipping between melancholy journeyman's saliva droplets. Rime-covered cheeks nestled against the rugs of the body. Drooping eyelids brushed with fingertips. Clotted bleeding. Priceless solace after the pact is dissolved with breathing. I embrace you, my brothers. My children. With my cracked eyes, I turn the pages of hard labor. When exiled to the island of Nazino, I devour myself. I smash all form and all certainty into a pulp. I see you in every glowing cigarette pigmentary nevus and nervous tic. I drink you mixed up with regret. Something crawls out. Breaking the ribs, the biting parasite widens the throat, to be ready for the conscious scream of helplessness.
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GALLERY
Elena Baila
Elena Baila Homage to John Cage and 4′33″ (four minutes, thirty-three seconds) https://www.instagram.com/elena.baila/ https://www.facebook.com/elenabailalbrizzi/
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GALLERY
Elena Baila
Maze
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Elena Baila
Water Mirror
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Elena Baila
Monumental Cemetery
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Elena Baila
No Roundabout
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Elena Baila
Abandoned Bed
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Elena Baila
Abandoned Bed
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Elena Baila
No Words Needed
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Elena Baila
No Words To Say
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POETRY
Józef Zdunek
silence and decibels there is no silence on Earth drifted away from the decibel smog civilization pandemic now it's in the nooks and crannies The universe and meditates on the handicap human thinking silence is a blessing God-Nature for man decibels a curse crazy noise who injures soul and body and the homo cogitans is silent
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POETRY
Ninn Ja Edge It squatted on the edge the best of my selves and she taught them to be silent she said take yourself away from him, just like that I can hear the truth There was no other way there and the ruby of that stream he drank thirsty fears and dawn survived from oblivion it will grow on this turf May and the Truth will be revealed again there will be Permanent stripped of wine and will not be allowed to kill ...
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GALLERY
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Joanna Sarnecka
Traditional fairy tales were created in a context other than children's literature. In fact, in the world from which they came, childhood was understood completely differently. You could say that no such thing existed. It only became a distinct stage of life from the nineteenth century, when it was recognized as being particularly sensitive to educational and upbringing influences. Strong efforts were made to best take advantage of these areas. At the same time, the child became something completely DIFFERENT to every adult, an outlaw; often, in the so-called higher spheres, children were deprived of domestic duties towards their family. Infantilized and treated with a pinch of salt, a child became an ambitious project that had yet to be implemented. And how to define the success of this project? Well, today it is measured by the effectiveness of a new pair of hands on the labor market. Efficiency and effectiveness - these are the criteria for success in our capitalist reality. Of course, individually. We have less and less in common with the collective. How was it before? Experience In Europe, in rural environments until the 19th century, survival was a challenge and death was experienced every day. Adults and children died of hunger, weakness, hard work, or from uncurable diseases. At the same time, the overabundance of work in the field, and then also in factories, meant that each new person was needed to contribute their labor. The community formed an interdependent organism one hundred percent committed to survival. Human life unfolded in a linear plan from birth to death, divided into moments of transition to successive stages, but it also followed a circle, wound around the rhythm of the seasons and annual celebrations. When a child was born, before it was ritually included in the community, e.g., through baptism, it was treated as a being on the border of worlds. If it died before baptism, it remained a wandering spirit, unable to find peace. Another necessary ritual was initiation. It was organized differently in different communities to varying degrees, but
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Long, Long Time Ago
Joanna Sarnecka
nonetheless it was a ritual present in almost all cultures, demonstrating its universal meaning. Die to be reborn Here a young person is to become an adult, that is, an individual fully responsible for the community, for the transfer of knowledge and tradition, and finally also for survival. The initiation scenario assumed the adept was excluded from the community and underwent a symbolic death and re-inclusion. The death that the initiated had to face was contained in the symbolic figures of phantoms, animals, and ancestral spirits; at the level of action, it was recalled by silence, hunger, loneliness in the forest, confusion, and sometimes hallucinogenic substances. Thus, the initiated not only faced his own fear of death, but also wandered around the afterlife, where he met strange inhabitants of these lands, helpers, and antagonists; he underwent tests of effort, cunning and courage. Following this, the community celebrated his rebirth, and from then on, he received all the rights and knowledge he was owed. In a word, adulthood meant the readiness to face both life and death. We can find the image of initiation rituals in traditional fairy tales. The main character is a bit funny, weak, stupid, the youngest brother; he sets out into the unknown, undergoes trials, gains favor from nature by showing concern for the community of living creatures. In the end, he gets everything: the kingdom, power, wealth, and a beautiful princess for his wife. It is, of course, a symbolic image that shows the value of maturity, the meaning of the competences acquired during the initiation process. Of course, today we can critique the male-centered story. Nevertheless, there are also female narratives. For example, the story of Little Red Riding Hood, deeply immersed in female symbolism from start to finish. Red robes, care for victuals – food that gives life, carried like a sacrifice, and grandma – the previous ruler of life in the family saga. Following the flowers of her accidental dreams, the girl gets lost in the forest and encounters a wolf – a wild, untamed male nature, which annihilates her. Another male force comes to the rescue - representing the social order of the forester
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Long, Long Time Ago
Joanna Sarnecka
– ruling the forest also with the help of his shotgun. It can be said that even this story, despite placing femininity in its center, does not give us full agency. But let's return to the subject of death and initiation, because after all, Little Red Riding Hood must end up in the wolf's belly. There is no escape. A girl must die, careless, inattentive, so that a woman could be born, hand in hand with her grandmother, born from the single belly of nature. There was a story left There is no initiation today. Nobody puts anyone to the test of loneliness, silence or hunger. We do not have the opportunity to face death in such a deep and ritualistic (and therefore also social) way. As such, it is difficult for us to understand the meaning of this inevitable meeting. There are still stories, traditional fairy tales in which the memories of the old rituals have survived. It's not the same, but it's always something. There is a story about the Seer of Lublin. He no longer remembered the magical places in the forest where his great predecessors prayed with the help of powerful words, and he no longer knew the words of those extraordinary prayers. He was left with only the story of those events, but - as the legend goes - this story was as effective as the actions of his great predecessors. The art of the story goes back to the oral tradition, the times before writing, to which we, in a sense, return today. The word had the nature and meaning of an action. There is talk of verbal events. That's what stories are. So maybe in times when we can see the consequences of ousting death from our everyday life, the taboo that separates us from such an essential, key existential experience, it is important to tell these stories, to face the fear, cruelty of death in them? To set off with a hero or a heroine on a journey full of trials and dangers, getting lost in the forest labyrinth, looking into Baba Yaga's eyes, and meeting her in this subtle way, knowing that she is there and having the courage to ruminate about it? https://www.opowiescizwalizki.pl/
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Long, Long Time Ago
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Kuba Żeligowski
Kuba Żeligowski
https://www.facebook.com/wielkowiejskosc/
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GALLERY
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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Kuba Żeligowski
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POETRY
Ewa Jakubek
The last stroll My ear adheres to silence For the last time like to a seashell I gather the morning skylark and the cuckoo’s promise Leaves enduring quivers in the summer rain And the humming of that bubbly river Pleased with its full banks. I remove moss from my green eyes Moist from peering down Stacks of dead rocks lay past me Imprisoned in the net lock forever. On the threshold of the forest Mother Mary smiles to me And restores my heart to stillness.
Translation: Ewa Jakubek
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
Oliwia Jakiel Hardt The void after losing a loved one is just as acute, whether we are losing a human or an animal. Everyone experiences the mourning process differently: for some, they are told to cut themselves off completely from their memories, others have to immerse themselves in them to feel relieved. When my beloved cat Shiva passed away, the emptiness she left behind was so huge that I felt that I had to photograph her. (The project was created as part of the Charles School) https://www.facebook.com/NyxeFotografia
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
Traces
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
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Oliwia Jakiel Hardt
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POETRY
Yanko Wojownik
*** Relationships full of understatements. Words are missing when needed. Other times, they are served in excess. The annoying taste of crap dominates. Always. Stupidity is a companion when there is no fulfillment. People like dogs should get to know each other on neutral ground. Then, possibly, visit, this way they won't bite - maybe. Sometimes it is necessary to take in order not to hurt the giver. When helplessness has the greatest strength and the brain has poisoned itself with an imaginary rescue. Unconsciousness throws the worst junk. The screens do not transmit feelings, they piss off the state with drawing crystals. One sound fell silent. Silence will always be on this side, you will not enjoy unwanted peace. The memory must expire in order not to look for the past scenario in other fairy tales. Out of sentiment.
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Justyna Sygulska
Justyna Sygulska Works performed as part of the INKtober challenge 2021.
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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Justyna Sygulska
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POETRY
Adam Michniewicz
wojny ciszy ze słowami to nigdy nie było dla mnie i nie mogło być rzeczą stałą jednak w wojnach ciszy ze słowami przeważnie faworyzowałem ciszę nie wiem niczego na pewno ale może to dlatego że tylko po zwycięstwie słów następowało niezręczne milczenie
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Błażej Kurowski
Błażej Kurowski Works performed as part of the INKtober challenge 2021. https://www.facebook.com/qrjuszart
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Błażej Kurowski
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Kasia Borowczak
Since the moment of the first significant loss in my life, the death of my father, I have constantly been drawn to reflect on the quality of our conversations on how we experience the death of a loved one. Based on my convictions, on my own experience and on conversations with other people, I feel the quality of these conversations is not always satisfactory. Sometimes it is even impossible to measure, as some of the conversations we would like to have after the death of a loved one (and I'm not talking here about the conversations with people who have died) simply did not or will never take place. There is a silence. However, you have to wait some time for the silence to start, because right after a death, you always get noise: the preparations and the conversations, both on the phone and with those at home. There are also the emotions or states of mind that you didn’t know much about before. The relatives and friends want to get involved, act, and help. There are also decisions to be made. A bell rings, maybe a trumpet, or even an organist or funeral singer? A lot is going on. The opposite of silence, then. But can we be sure? After that, it is not so harmonious anymore. At least not on the outside. The familiar footsteps of the deceased faded away, as well as the way they laughed,
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Silence in Grief
Kasia Borowczak
sneezed, got angry, locked doors, washed dishes, or whistled. Lots of sounds got lost. The silence follows. But what’s happening to us at that time? Oh, a lot. New emotions every now and then. Some of them come out of left field but others are familiar. You attempt to reconstruct what has just happened, and your well-known identity undergoes changes ('I no longer have a father, wife, daughter, so can I still think of myself as a daughter, husband, parent?'). You also start looking at the world from a different perspective, and maybe your value system doesn’t look the same anymore. More decisions have to be made. ('Am I sure I'm ready to start sorting things out after my loved one?’ or ‘Do I really have to go to this party? I am not in the mood'). A lot has happened and changed. The opposite of silence. Since so much has changed, so much has to be said. A story has been created. A unique and important story. About what we felt and thought. It is a pity that so few will have a chance to share it, because there are so few willing to listen. We have already lost many unique stories, and are continuing to lose them. Let me come back to the silence and the lack of conversations mentioned at the beginning. These don’t take place, because not everyone is strong and willing
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Silence in Grief
Kasia Borowczak
enough. And this applies to both sides – those offering support and those who accept it. I talk to people from different cultures and religions about the self-support and the support from others they have found soothing and helpful after the death of a loved one. We also often talk about the ability of others to give support. Together, we, both as individuals and society, still have a lot to do in this regard. Probably everyone who has gone through a painful loss in their life, experienced an unsuccessful attempt to be supported, which remained in the memory for a long time ('I do believe that they’re looking down on you and are in a better place' – when you are an atheist, 'You’re so young, you’ll have lots more children’ – when you just experienced a miscarriage, or ‘At least she was in your life for so long. I didn't know my grandparents at all’ – when you are struggling so much after the death of your beloved grandmother). I always ask for a comment on this matter. I hear from some: ‘I think that it is much better to say something, however inadequate it may sound, than to say nothing at all. If we don’t talk about grief and the loss of a loved one, it is almost like denying the existence of that person’. And from others:
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Silence in Grief
Kasia Borowczak
‘I think it would be better if people who don't want to face difficult emotions didn’t ask questions to people experiencing grief, because it's more hurtful than a sincere intention to accept whatever is said’. So silence versus lack of silence. It’s all so confusing. I am thinking about a solution, and only one comes to mind. Maybe we should start to ask what to do and say to offer support, and to communicate how we would like to be supported? Even if it were about saying, ‘I would like to be able to support you better, but I don't know how’ or ‘I don't know how you can support me, it's all too difficult for me now’. It seems to me that by communicating like this, we give ourselves space for our helplessness, our inability to deal with every situation, our responsibility for our own words and feelings, and even our awareness of other people’s needs. We break the silence while keeping it. _______________ The quoted quotes come from the interviews conducted as part of the Conversation Project – https://www.project-conversation.com/
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Silence in Grief
GALLERY
Katarzyna Świętochowska
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POETRY
Magdalena Zawadzka
someone saw beauty versus despair the artist's brush brush the reality mixed into gray white with black illusions of life darkness and light in the dark the obscurity of real vision freedom of escape at a gallop in silence the eloquence of the word what is escaping between the lines in silence the reality of the situation the fleeting nature of life little hope in a second goodbye
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