Milkwithtea Magazine Vol.3 by MILKWITHTEA MAGAZINE

Edited and curated by Ayse Argit

Blog: http://www.milkwithtea.blogspot.com Facebook Page Twitter @milkwithtea Flickr Picture Pool

All images, poems&writings, and art works are property of the respective artists and may not be used without their permission.

Artists Wai Lin Tse

Ian Watson & K. Noedel

Alex Currie

Nirrimi Joy Firebrace

Alon Braier

Thomas C. Chung

Sean Marc Lee

Alberto Polo Ia単ez

Michael Rodegang Drescher

Gary Colin

Francis Flower

Richard Vergez

Dor Reznik

Anton Mariinsky

Levi Jackson

Anthony Cudahy

Stockholm/Barcelona Sweden/Spain Website

Wai Lin Tse milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Buffalo, New York, USA Website Facebook "I suppose I fell in love with photography when I discovered it could be used for more than just a photograph. It’s a memory, an honest moment in time that holds an emotion and a story. The scenes I photograph are the ones I’m truly inspired by; those small moments that make me feel something. I’m inspired by the way the wind whips through my best friend’s hair on a summer car ride with all the windows down, and how the sun makes my sister’s eyes look green when she stares directly in it for too long. Even the way my model looks into the camera, when everything comes together in the exact pose and styling and emotion and I know that this is the shot, and that only the opening of my shutter can keep this second of time and preserve it forever. I strive to capture these memories – to portray them so vividly and accurately that they are made up of more than just pixels or colors or grain – that they are a part of a bigger story, simply an instant in between the bigger occasions of life." Alex Currie milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Alex Currie milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Alex Lin Wai Currie Tse milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Alex Currie milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Tel Aviv, Israel Website

Alon Braier milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Alon Braier, "Back in the day" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Alon Braier, "Some Popsicle Romance" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Taipei, Taiwan Website Sean Marc Lee is an American photographer specializing in lifestyle, editorial, travel and street fashion photography currently based in Taipei, Taiwan.

Sean Marc Lee milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Heidelberg, Germany mailto:michael.r.drescher@gmx.de

Michael Rodegang Drescher milkwithtea magazine vol.3

FIRST DATE RENDEZ-VOUS She smiles. That’s a good sign. So I sing. Room’s crowded; candlelight everywhere and we sip Chardonnay. I was raised the old way: Reach for the check, don’t look. Mother’s wisdom. The bread is stale and she’s having the chicken. So am I. I worry too much. What I hate about maggots is that they remind me of the fact that in its essence, life is eating yourself. From beginning to end life’s a constant string of kills. They bring the entrées. Can she tell I’m nervous? Can she tell I feel old? Everywhere candlelight. Sing me to sleep, she says, lying there. She smiles. That’s a good sign. We sip Chardonnay and I see our daughter crying, running for the door. Don’t worry, she says. She’s young. She’ll find her way. That girl was raised the old way, no wonder she rebels. They bring pepper. The chicken smells. What I love about her, is that her smile triggers memories of happiness yet to come. From beginning to end life’s a constant string of her. I was raised the old way. I open the door for her. Room’s crowded, candlelight everywhere. I reach for the check. This is normal for women her age. She smiles, but I can tell. Things kept inside become poison, she says. Mother’s wisdom. We sip Chardonnay. Our daughter runs to the door. Do you want children?, she asks. The waiter brings pepper. That’s a good sign, the doctor says. She’s young. I worry too much.

Michael Rodegang Drescher milkwithtea magazine vol.3

What I don’t understand about death is that its reality is so omnipresent. We love, we live, we laugh, we walk in death. From beginning to end death’s a constant string of life. How I love her. I open the door for her. Can she tell I’m nervous? Reach for the check, don’t look. We have cheesecake for desert. Desert’s a good sign, I think. She’s having chicken, and I worry a little, for the chicken smells. She smiles and I open the door for her. Our daughter runs to the bathroom, laughing. How I love her. She’ll be back in four years. Candlelight everywhere. We sip Chardonnay. She reaches for the check and I sing. What I love about her, is that she smiled when we met and rarely stopped smiling after. From beginning to end that is a good sign. Can she tell I’m nervous? Can she tell I feel old? Room’s crowded, candlelight everywhere. Our daughter’s found her way. She’s officiating. There’ll be cheesecake and wine after. How I love her. Room’s crowded and I worry, but I open the door for her. Sing me to sleep, she says, lying there. The bread was stale. The chicken smelled. Things kept inside become poison, she said. So I sing while they sip Chardonnay. But she smiles. A memory of happiness yet to come. Can she tell I feel old? Can she tell I am nervous? Can I take you home?, I ask. She smiles and I reach for the check. Candlelight everywhere. Sing me to sleep, she says, lying there. So I sing. How I love her. I kiss her for the very first time. I smile. That is a good sign.

Michael Rodegang Drescher milkwithtea magazine vol.3

THE EMPTY SIGNIFIER I was too young to really understand what that word meant but I saw what it did to the world, what it did to him. I knew the word ‘night-shift’. And before the other word was, there was the sound of our door opening. We waited for that, jumped out of bed and ran out to meet him. He smelt of metal and oil. And I remember our laughter, when the world was still young. I remember ice-cream and walks in the park, and being carried over intersections. Then my mother cried, my brother cried, and I wondered why. Till I saw him running up and down the street, a butter-knife in his hand, shouting her name. I will never forget our neighbors’ soft voices or the slice of bread on the kitchen-floor. There were times when he forgot our faces, and I made him chase me over couch and tables and chairs. I still don’t know why I did that. But the phone rang. I remember my brother vanishing into the bathroom. And something hollow and cold. I exhaled too long to get the empty out of me. I never grew into his clothes.

Michael Rodegang Drescher milkwithtea magazine vol.3

THE YOUNG ONES You wake up and all of sudden you like boys I don’t smoke What do you like, do you have Fishes in your head? How I love Spain! No I love Barcelona! She’s almost a Doctor Three years ago I saw that movie there are some girls who talk too fast but they all love their boyfriends dearly We’re all having a good time but he’s all about the sex They gave it to us for €350! And there was a DJ! No, not in Portugal, they thought we were Spanish I think like Neurology and generally, Medicine But it’s not Blood Blood is a kind of liquid with stuff in it Michael Rodegang Drescher milkwithtea magazine vol.3

(Francesco Frizzera) Rovereto, North Italy Flickr "Right now, this is a period where I fear time. I take pictures, because they are the only things that help me to remember all about time that has passed. I'm writing my story. I don't want to forget anything."

Francis Flower milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Haifa, Israel Website Flickr "My portraits are highly inspired by music and also everyday things surrounding me, I'm very connected to them and they are personal to me."

Dor Reznik milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Salt Lake City, Utah, USA Website

Levi Jackson milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Bremen, Germany Ian Watson at Literaturhaus Bremen Image&Poem Ensembles are from Ian Watson's and K. Noedel's joint project "An Inside Job". Images by K. Noedel Words by Ian Watson Image by K. Noedel, Words by Ian Watson milkwithtea magazine vol.3

POEMS PENDING I lean my forehead on the cooling glass. Outside, the shadow trees are stripped of rhyme, reduced to brittle twigs picked clean by frost. Behind me, grey and orange sonnets coiled like cables hang down from a sterile sky. The neon flashes, flushes out my mind, removes the poems pending from their shelves where they have waited for delivery. Chaos reflected in the cold outside. The lines and metaphors are scattered now like childrenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mislaid building blocks or coins flung carelessly and waiting to be piled and spent. They lie in wait, reflected. Soon Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll turn back to the building site and write.

"An Inside Job", Images by K. Noedel, Words by Ian Watson milkwithtea magazine vol.3

ACCEPTANCE DATE It’s over: I have put the final touches to the final touch. So, clear the decks and clear the desk; shut down the laptop and fold it away; put the thesaurus back on the shelf; hose down the walls and polish the floor  caress it softly till it’s smooth as a mirror; let in the garden smells and the birdsong; start to greet the neighbours again; stop muttering in the street. It’s over: I have lit my candle at the altar of the god of deadlines, burned the midnight single malt, abstained from cinema, pub and bed, changed black & white cartridges and had the back of the printer off, whimpered at the shaving mirror, been tempted to sleep with publishers. I have kissed the padded envelope at the letter-box. It’s over: Now the desk is as empty as my head. Out for a walk, I can even smell the river  till a phrase falls out of the sky and I’m starting over. " An Inside Job", Images by K. Noedel, Words by Ian Watson milkwithtea magazine vol.3

BACKSTAGE … And all the men and women merely players. When the curtain lifts, the act begins; and when the curtain falls, we beat that slow retreat, still bowing, lift our eyes to where the spotlights were but now are swallowed whole by layered scarlet velvet  breathe in long and slow to where the tension is. Then, chin on chest, we breathe out soft and slow; we let our shoulders fall. We wash the grease off, stare at what the colours hide, because we must return to where the backstage ghosts reside, that world of plasterboard and hanging dust.

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts … William Shakespeare, As you like it. Act II, Scene 7

" An Inside Job", Images by K. Noedel, Words by Ian Watson milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Australia Website

Nirrimi Joy Firebrace milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Sydney, Australia Website Facebook Artwork title: "A Promise Made, Is A Promise Kept" "This botanical installation consists of 88 knitted cacti formed as a circle. Alluding to the growth and patience required for global climate change, it speaks of a fear that unless we persist quietly and without aggression, things might stay the same. This artwork is seen through the eyes of a child, soft to the touch, with spines and needles that cannot hurt. The significance of the number 88, refers to the fortune and good luck in my native Chinese culture. The title of this piece are the words of a child speaking to the world. It is entitled, “A Promise Made, Is A Promise Kept”." © 2014 Thomas C. Chung Photography by Bo Guo Thomas C. Chung, "A Promise Made, Is A Promise Kept" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Thomas C. Chung, "A Promise Made, Is A Promise Kept" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Coru単a, Galicia, Spain Website

Alberto Polo Ia単ez milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Paris, France Website

Gary Colin milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Gary Colin, "Vues de lâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;esprit" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Brooklyn, New York, USA Website

Richard Vergez milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Richard Vergez, "Match" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Richard Vergez, "Despair" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Richard Vergez, "Departure" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Moscow, Russia Website

Anton Mariinsky milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Anton Mariinsky, for "Akzia" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Anton Mariinsky, transl. "Swan", for "The Moscow News" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Anton Mariinsky, for "Mens Health" milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Brooklyn, New York, USA Website

Anthony Cudahy milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Anthony Cudahy, LURK, oil on canvas, 26” x 22”, 2014 milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Anthony Cudahy, Nightwalk, oil and gouache on canvas, 48” x 36”, 2014 milkwithtea magazine vol.3

Anthony Cudahy, Ian in the bright light, oil on canvas, 18” x 24”, 2015 milkwithtea magazine vol.3

art? mind = blown matters you observe the moments you feel your thoughts and dreams countless images your mind produces and stories your legs walk you through things your hands/feet/body help visualizing all that makes your heart excited and that your gut insists you do

ÂŠ Milkwithtea, A. Argit 89