Table of Contents RKYV # 21 {February 2009} RKYV ONLINE LOGO - David Marshall {current} - Roy G. James {original} - R.J. Pare {original online adaptation}
Virtual Cover # 21 - Art by Stephen Gibb - Layouts by R.J. Paré
Short Fiction - “The Magic Mushrooms – Part II” - By Jim Gibson
Interior Art - by Josh Bowe, Lee Ann Marie Macdonald, Dragan Petrovic Debesh, Poetry Jonathan Biermann, Lisa Marie Mueller, - By Larissa Gula, CS Cartier, R.J. Paré Stan Nelson, Victor Castro, Cindy Renfrow, Stephen Gibb, Tariq Rafiq Non-Fiction - “Futurism in the Funnies” Editorial Column - “At the Outset:” - By Roy G. James - A Few Thoughts from the Editor - By RJ Paré Family Life - “Drunken Dragon Tavern” Health - By Christina Marchetti - “Tom’s Therapeutic Tidings” - “Great Food on a Tight Budget” - By Tom Rossini - By Pauline Paré - “How to be Happy” - By CS Cartier Pop Culture - “Comic Book Review” Featured Artist Review - By Brad Bellmore – Stephen Gibb - “Raised On Saturday morning Cartoons” - By R.J. Paré - By Pauline Pare
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At the Outset A few thoughts from the Editor – by R.J. Pare’ Before I begin I would like to take a few moments and speak my mind on the thrilling and exciting topic of intellectual property. Stop that – no falling asleep. Every creator, these days, seems to think they will one day be exalted as Masters of their given field. Either that or they have convinced themselves that they would be fabulously wealthy if not for all those “internet thieves” robbing them of perceived windfalls.
Okay... let’s breathe here. Photographers, Writers, Painters, musicians etc – we all need to stop being so bloody uptight. All works of art, of any kind, are derivative in some fashion or another - unless you have the unmitigated gall to claim your works have zero inspiration outside of your own fertile imagination and that said imagination has never once watched TV, read a book, listened to music, viewed art etc. All of our experiences have an effect on our perspectives and thus play a part in our creative processes. Collage - as an art form, for example, is as valid as any other. Allow me to illustrate an example from literature: For argument’s sake let us say that I am writing a novel. In the novel one of the characters is singing his favourite tune during a scene. I write his dialogue and continue with the story. Now say that the song in question, that I used a few lines of as dialogue, is a well known popular song… does this mean my novel has now violated copyright? That is ridiculous - period Throughout the history of humankind we can find numerous examples in classical art and literature where creators have derived something new, based in part [whether large or small] on the works of those who came before them. It is a matter of degree.
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If I am flat out plagiarizing another author than of course I should be prosecuted. If, however, one of my characters spouts off a familiar line of song or poetry, during a story, than that should be fine. The same applies to visual or audio arts. If someone has “sampled” something another artist has created as a mere portion of some work they are creating… all that should be required is the posting of credit as to where all materials used originated from. This, of course, is an ongoing debate as technologies change and the web brings the entire world to your finger-tips. True copyright violation should only be accused if the derived work is nothing more [or little more] than a repackaging of the original work… if however the artist in question is actually creating a new piece of art then it should be respected and we should quit griping. The above is just my opinion and legal definitions of copyright vary from country to country – but wouldn’t it be nice if we all got along and didn’t crack down on the kid doing magazine collage or the student posting a home made video etc? This issue of RKYV I am glad to present the wonderfully surreal art of Stephen Gibb. I highly recommend his entertaining works that seem, to me at least – equal parts surrealism and 1960’s psychedelia. Once again our regular columnists, Larissa Gula, Tom Rossini, Christina Marchetti, Brad Bellmore and Pauline Pare’ join us - bringing their humour, wit and respective points of view to the topics they explore. This month we also welcome CS Cartier and his first column “How to be Happy” to our pages. With that… I will sign off for this month, but not before leaving you with this piece of advice: Find your creative outlet and embrace it. Nothing will nourish your mind and soul quite so much as the artistic offspring of your imagination. Jake ‘The Snake’ Roberts – by Jon Biermann page
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Untitled – by Lisa Marie Mueller
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Health Tom’s Therapeutic Tidings – By Tom Rossini How Randy can deal with Male Pattern Baldness!!! Many men suffer from hair loss either due to medical problems or genetics. And for Randy it has to be due to genetics as we know that he has no medical problems. In the past men often let nature take its course and deal with the patches of hair-loss or go to the barber and have them trim it down with those nice electric trimmers, shave that head bald or try that spray on hair. That definitely doesn't mean that many men weren't upset about it though or even embarrassed and some people even think Randy looks better this way. Today most men seem to take more pride in looking younger and their very best but for Randy… well that’s another story. The fact that there is a male hair loss treatment for them to benefit from is encouraging. While most men don't talk about it, they may have already had some procedures done but Randy just keeps it short. [Editor’s Note: I started buzzing my hair down, years ago, when I joined the CAF Reserve and have kept it that way ever since. If I were to let it grow out there most definitely would be bald patches – LOL Besides I’m a writer what the hell do I need a fancy hairdo for anyway? Take a looksee at what can happen when a writer lets their hair grow out – Charles Dickens may be revered amongst the literati but his hair makes it awfully difficult to take him seriously. Good thing there was no FaceBook back then, eh Chuck?]
Charles Dickens – by Roger Davidson
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But in all seriousness, it is important to take a realistic look at the issue of male hair loss treatment. While there are quite a few options out there, more than 90% of them really don't work. Before spending your hard earned dough on these so called miracle cures, you have to get to the source of the problem. There are a few types of medication that can work well as male hair loss treatment. You may find you are a good candidate to use them and that you get decent results to find this out you will want to consult a dermatologist.
Another form of acceptable medical treatment is Laser therapy which is a very common type of male hair loss treatment. This form of therapy can be pricey but it is also very effective. Laser therapy works by stimulating the hair follicles on the head. Basically by using the laser it increases the flow of blood to the hair shaft which can help a man re-grow hair that he thought was gone forever. The process can be time consuming though before you see results so you have to be patient. For the best results you need to get treatment as soon as you start to notice your hair falling out. Another form of treatment is hair transplantation. Hair Transplantation is the most expensive form of treatment and it can be quite painful. This involves taking hairs from other areas of the head and then inserting them in the areas where they have fallen out. This is a type of surgery that requires one section of the head to be done at a time. It can take several weeks for the area to heal up and most men find their scalp is tender and itchy. However, this is a procedure that does seem to work very well when other male hair loss treatment has failed.
The Rock – by Jon Biermann If you suffer from hair loss there is no reason to just allow it to continue. Find the right male hair loss treatment option for you. [Editor’s Note: Okay Tom, tough guy, you be the one to tell ‘The Rock’ that he needs a hair transplant – but please give us all a head’s up when you do. I want front row seats!]
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Cliff’s Notes: How to be Happy - By CS Cartier How does one become happy? To travel a path towards happiness there must be an accepted and understood meaning. If each of us has a different definition, then following steps would be useless and ultimately futile. Happiness is a feeling, right? Well, sure it is. But what is that feeling?
To be happy is to be content. I just ate a really good dinner, not too much to over eat and I am content. The food will digest and I will eventually get hungry again; just learning that food made me happy I naturally want that feeling to continue. To find that feeling again I eat but discover not contentment, but a sweet tooth. Happiness galore comes to the king of the castle and his big piece of pie and mountains of whipped topping. So I eat more and more searching for that bubble of happiness that I thought I had discovered. Before long my contentment is a big gut above my belt. This does not make me happy in the slightest. So I can most definitely agree that food while bringing contentment surely does not bring true happiness. Factually speaking, I am miserable that I have to starve myself and hit the weights. To be happy is to be pleased. My wife and I just had sex, thus I am pleased. So therefore I am happy. This shall continue forever until… “Not tonight honey, I have a headache.” To make a long story short, not happy. Cheating on her, while bringing the ‘pleased’ feeling back, will end eventually [most likely with a divorce and the wife taking everything I own]. No, I can say this would not please me or make me happy. Joyful or cheerful are also words that describe happiness. Joy and cheer are words that do not fall into my everyday conversations. I felt joy when my child was born, and her giggles are filled with cheer. I would conclude that children bring happiness. The sounds she would make became babbling which then morphed into her first words. ‘Dadda’ was a sound that brought me happiness and joy. Her first words, turned loud and screechy. Screams became demands and knowledge and learning taught the word ‘NO’. Oh, that is a word coming from her mouth that does not make me happy at all. No sir, make no mistake, the children of this world would forever be cute if that word was never allowed to exit their tiny little mouths. I am forced to conclude happiness comes with the child but grows with them and becomes work, regret, and ideas of what to do with the roll of duct tape that is hanging in the garage.
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Happy can be used to describe being in high spirits. I went to church to discover if this is true. The collection plate took my money, I could not find the god that everyone said would be there to answer my prayers and I blew my engine getting home. If religion makes one happy, I would rather be sad with a car that still works and a wallet filled with some green bills. Blissful, I heard is true happiness. The neighborhood bully is apparently the local crime boss (who knew). He hooks me up with a nickel bag. I get home and hide it from the kids and wife. I haven’t yet even rolled or lit the joint but already my heart is pumping and I’m filled with an incredible exhilaration. Blissful certain did make me happy. As a matter of fact, the screaming kids really didn’t bother me in the slightest while in my bliss. They were cute and cheerful and joy filled again. I was so mellow, that sex was beyond gratifying. I really do not even remember if my wife was there. The gut above my waist melted away and all I did was eat and continuously got the munchies. Blissful brought the discovery of god, who needs a church. I do not even need my car because I don’t want to go anywhere. The party is always here. I’m not sure why, but my wife was jealous that I was happy for she left me and took my kids. My job for some stupid reason fired me, and I spent my life savings on happiness. I’m not a genius but perhaps the price of bliss is way too high.
Circles and Squares – by Josh Bowe
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There is a dollar bill attached to this mysterious emotion and apparently strings. Now that my family is gone, I am sad and lonely. This is the opposite of happy. Could family be an important recipe ingredient to happiness? Well, I would ponder that further but a gruff looking police officer is screaming at me for sleeping on the park bench. No job means, no home and living on the streets is not fun or blissful. Could having a welcoming home be important to joy and cheer? Working hard to earn the respect of my peers may have something to do with being truly pleased but not a true feeling of happiness, just contentment with myself. I believe perhaps happiness might come from within and not from what we can get. Another scream from the officer, and I shuffle away. On the ground I discover a misplaced twenty. I smile, happy that I am about to be content. Under Fire – by Tindersen Blacktree Hoopdriver One should begin by truly being a part of their loving family. Therefore, one needs to review their relationships with his/her parents; brothers and sisters, other relatives and friends. Do the things you do every day improve these relationships or make them worse? Parents will always love their children even if they do not like their attitudes. Brothers and sisters will always be some of your best friends for life. To be happy you also need the common comforts—adequate food and shelter—we all have a dream of owning our own home someday. Nice clothes, a new car, etc. are nice but not totally necessary to be happy. How do you buy the common comforts and fulfill your dreams? You could have been born to rich parents who give you everything you want. This makes sure you never quit asking and are always unhappy that you didn’t ask for more.
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You could have parents who care that you work hard at school to give you the opportunity to get a higher paying job. You won’t enjoy working for near minimum wage very much—you will never own a new car or buy your own home. Many of the arguments with parents and spouses usually center around a lack of money. Depending on government handouts will not always make you happy. How do you work hard? Most people would rather play or watch TV rather than do homework or study. Parents must make sure that children are taught that the secret to success is hard work. Once you work hard you get to choose what work you do and get higher paying jobs. You can continue to work hard or choose to enjoy an easier life style. You don’t want to have to accept any menial job at low pay simply because you have no choice. Working hard means discipline. Parents have to teach their children to do the right things that will make them happy in the long term and not those that will make them sad. Learning to do the right thing is usually less fun than doing the wrong thing in the short term. Learning the right things will make you happy in the longer term. If you are a guest in someone’s home they will not discipline you—but if you live with them they have to assume the responsibilities of a parent and must discipline. A young girl will soon turn into a young lady. She needs a mother to explain the physical and emotional changes that we go through from ages 13-19. When are we happy? We will be happy when we have control of our life and can do the things that we choose to do. We are happy when we are able to say—what I/we have may not be much to others but I earned it and I am doing things –MY WAY. Therefore we are happy when we make the right decisions and we learn to live by them.
_ Smiley - by R.J. Paré
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Untitled – by Engin Korkmaz
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Featured Artist Review Stephen Gibb – by R.J. Paré We’ve got a treat for you this month as we feature the far-out surreal imagery of Stephen Gibb’s art. Stephen would have fit in quite well with the west coast head shop art scene of the late 60’s. His work strips away the carefully cultivated personas people erect and lays bare the primal emotions and turmoil that exist beneath. With a technique and fine arts polish that reminds one of Salvador Dali combined with the humour and perspective, on the human condition, of Robert Crumb – Stephen’s work captivates. Here’s some info I pulled from Stephen’s website: The gory details..... Stephen was dropped on his head as a baby while his mother was visiting the Museum of Modern Art. Ever since, he has been drawing, painting and scratching in a non-stop orgy of creation. His paintings are psychological offerings, rich in irony and distortions, bristling with sublime, psychotropic colours. Human forms struggle in an existential blending of mind and machine yet up through the conflict a subtle black humour percolates. Always wear your helmet. He is a member of Her Majesty's Secret Art Assembly, a collective of artists living and working in the Detroit/Windsor area. He is also a graduate of the University of Windsor's Lebel School of Art. http://www.stephengibb.com/
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Obligatory Artist's Statement I like to offer the viewer a disruption, or a mental speed-bump to take them out of themselves for a moment and allow them to re-interpret or re-examine their notions on the subjects engaged. By presenting images in a formal painting style which is then infused with contemporary cultural cues and themes I feel I can involve the viewer in a familiar experience while subtly directing them into uncharted territory. The object - the painting - becomes more than an aesthetic object but a vehicle of transcendence as the subject and object begin a two-way dialogue inside the viewers mind. As the viewer puzzles over the content and mental sleight-of-hand I gently grab their wallets and push them into the abyss... Stephen Gibb, 2005
Title: Death lies between Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood Size: 30 X 24 Date Created: 2008
R.J. Paré: This is an intriguing composition. At first glance it appears to portray a duality within man - with neither side being dominant. Our separate natures are shown to be pulling us in seemingly different directions. Of course, we are more complex in nature and have more sides or aspects of our personalities than just two.
As I look at this picture more closely I can see this element at work. Neither ‘side’ is truly a ‘whole’ rather each side is a composite of different impulses and emotions. We find fear and anger sharing space; curiosity and happiness seeking common ground. In the end all our plans, hopes and impulses will, despite their best efforts, bring us to the same destination. Our own mortality lies at the end of every person’s journey be they sinner or saint.
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1. R.J. Paré: Have you always known that you wanted to be or, rather, were an artist? Stephen Gibb: I didn’t know until I was about 7 years old when my teachers started making a fuss and I realized the other kids couldn’t draw. Up until that point I must have not noticed or cared. 2. RJP: Did you study or major in art while in school? SG: Yup. University of Windsor, Private First Class.
Title: Salad days Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood, aluminum dollar bills Size: 20 X 26 Date Created: 2009
RJP: The pursuit of the almighty dollar… How much anxiety does the average person experience when trying to balance needs and wants with how much cash is actually in the kitty. We desire more and more of it, almost to the point of lunacy. We should ask ourselves, is this really what life is all about? Stephen pokes fun at our need to ‘keep up with the Joneses’ in this piece. We may crave the cash… but ultimately it cannot nourish us.
3. RJP: Who was your biggest influence or source of encouragement, as a child, in pursuing art? SG: I always thought that both my parents were pretty good with drawing and they always made things by hand. I think I latched on to this trait early and never looked back.
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Title: Let them eat cake Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood Size: 24 X 24 Date Created: 2008
RJP: Here Stephen has creatively exposed one the classical ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ – Gluttony - in all its wanton abandon. Within each of us exists the urge to throw caution and good sense to the wind and gorge ourselves, literally and figuratively, on opportunities. In the end, are we to be ruled by reason or be slaves to animal impulse.
4. RJP: What is your favourite media to work with? SG: Oil paint on board. There is a quality that oil paint has that other paints just can’t match, almost three dimensional if done correctly. Also I’m not a fan of canvas. I like a nice stiff surface to work on. 5. RJP: Do you use any special tools and techniques to create your art? SG: I use my own version of the glazing technique perfected in the Renaissance period. It’s a bastardized method that utilizes the basic principles (layers of thin transparent paint on top of another) but yields similar results. Otherwise it’s just normal brushes and offthe-shelf paint. 6. RJP: What inspires you to create art? SG: I’m no neuroscientist but I’d suspect my brain is to blame. As to what causes the art to jiggle free—it could be anything from nursery rhymes to theoretical physics.
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Title: Smashed Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood, rubber mallet Size: 30 X 24 Date Created: 2008
RJP: Not only has Stephen mastered the painting of hyper-expressive features… but this composition effectively combines elements of modern sculpture with the addition of the rubber mallet interacting visually with the oil painting. This is a striking and powerful piece, one that I immediately chose to use on this months cover of RKYV ONLINE.
7. RJP: How would you categorize your artistic style? SG: Somewhere in Windsor, in a dark abandoned warehouse, Section B, Aisle 6, on the top shelf covered in dust there is a post-it note stuck to the cover of André Bretton’s Surrealist Manifesto that says “Guess Again!” I don’t put much stock in self-categorization. I’ll let someone else debate that catalogue number for me. Maybe that’s why I’m not filthy rich yet! Since this article will feature my paintings, maybe your readers can decide and send in their responses. That would be interesting.
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8. RJP: Would you say that there is a "message" or "unifying theme" in your work? SG: Yes. Existentialism, emotion and human nature. 9. RJP: Which famous artists or styles have influenced you? Why? SG: I’m always a little embarrassed to answer this and I don’t know why, maybe I find it too personal, too revealing. Let me try and break it down. When I was a kid (5-6) I loved comic book stuff. Since I was a kid in the 60s I loved Rat Fink and all that “groovy” psychedelic art of the time. Then I discovered Norman Rockwell (in a comic book of all places). I liked how he could editorialize a message in a simple image. By the time I was11 or 12 I discovered Hieronymus Bosch, Breugel and Salvador Dali all at pretty much the same time. Something deep inside connected with me that I just can’t explain. It just made sense. I loved the mystery of their paintings and the way things look real but unreal at the same time. I think Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights is the most important art object in existence.
Title: Smashed Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood, metal, rubber Size: 30 X 30 Date Created: 2009
RJP: An interesting and creative commentary on mortality and the effect it has on the human psychology, [as only a surrealist can provide]. Stephen’s clock is ticking, for the aged, wrinkly figure in question and for each one of us.
The question is do we travel towards this certainty with fear and anxiety or can accept our limited longevity with dignity and grace?
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Title: Unhinged Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood, metal Size: 18 X 24 Date Created: 2008 RJP: The true bane of old age is not a slowness of step or the weakening of our limbs. Our greatest fear as we grow older is the loss of our mental faculties. Senility is a very real concern for those approaching their golden years. In true satirical form, Stephen takes that apprehension and gives it a humorous twist through the ‘literal’ representation of a mind – unhinged.
10. RJP: If you could meet any living or dead artist, who would it be? SG: Hero worship is just weird. I don’t think I would. Maybe the guy who made the Venus of Willendorf (24,000 B.C.) just for fun. 11. RJP: What is the one question that you would ask him/her? Unga bunga?? 12. RJP: What do you think of the term "starving artist"? SG: I guess that’s a choice. You could be a starving accountant or a starving doctor but that doesn’t sound so romantic. I think it’s a Disney version of art. The artist who struggles to keep a vision alive, who battles the odds and dies penniless only to be exalted posthumously is such a contrived Hollywood convention. “You won’t be famous until your dead” is such a hollow crock of shit. People flock to clichés like security blankets and spout them off without thinking. “Starving artist” fits that category. If you feel compelled to make art but are unwilling to face reality then maybe you should consider another calling. I wanted to make art on my own terms and found that the only way to do that was not rely on it for my sustenance. I don’t want to have to answer to anyone, I don’t want to yield to a trend to be popular and cash in on what’s selling. I want what I do to be exactly what I want to do without grooming it or diminishing it for the marketplace.
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13. RJP: Do you feel more a sense of community with other artists or a sense of competition? SG: Strangely enough, Windsor has an amazing sense of community in the arts right now. My art friends from other cities can’t get over it and I just took it for granted until a few years ago. Now I really embrace it. It will inevitably evolve and hopefully make Windsor stronger. As for competition...I think some people look over their shoulders when they make art and others are inspired by challenge. 14. RJP: How do you market yourself? SG: Go to Google and type in Stephen Gibb.
Title: Goofy Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood Size: 12 X 12 Date Created: 2008
RJP: I simply love images that seem to change the longer you observe them. At first glance this is a smiling happy face. A closer look would convince you that the cheesy twit is a little on the ‘Goofy’ side [thus the title]. However, stare at this piece a little longer and I dare you to tell me there isn’t something menacing about it. I am reminded of Nicholson’s ‘Jack Torrance’ [from The Shining] the grin, a thinly veiled disguise for the deranged mania ready to burst forth, at any moment, with violent consequences.
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Title: Middle brain dominant Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood, steel saw Size: 28 X 22 Date Created: 2008
RJP: Stephen’s use of juxtaposition in exploring the vagaries of human emotional / psychological identity is, once again, on display it all its inventiveness. Our impulse is to simplify the imagery and reduce what we see to visual syllogisms on the nature of duality. But it’s not that easy. We aren’t 50% rational and 50% artistic… there is more to the human condition than what can be summarized in a right versus left brain argument.
Thus the Solomon like division of self is halted by the discovery of something unexpected. The middle brain concept can be a synergy of complimentary attributes from both the left and right brain paradigms that in collaboration are greater than the sum of their parts. It is of no great surprise that eastern philosophies locate the mystic ‘third eye’ in pretty much the same place. Could this be a certain ‘element of being’ humans have sought to discover and define for millennia. The middle brain – the soul?
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15. RJP: Do you find it difficult to stay motivated / inspired? SG: Motivated is a grown-up way of saying “You have to do this”. It’s the same soft abstract gun your parents held to your head to get you to do things you’d rather not but knew you had to. Homework, chores and other mundane crap. If I had to stay “motivated” to do art I sure wouldn’t be doing it. I absolutely love doing it. The concepts. The process. The mistakes. The surprises. And top it off with the fact that sometimes it really connects with someone. I get the satisfaction of exciting someone else with the same thing I’m excited about. Very primal. 16. RJP: Do you create your art full time or part time? SG: In my mind–I work on it around the clock. My physical body can only devote a few hours a day producing it (alas I must sleep). I do something entirely different to earn points for groceries. 17. RJP: What other interests do you have, besides art? SG: I’m a collector of obscure 60s garage and psychedelic music and like to read about experimental psychology since it helps me understand why adults act like they are still in high school.
Title: Psycho Clown Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood, Clown hair Size: 18 X 24 Date Created: 2008 RJP: I am uncertain as to the origins or rationales for Coulrophobia [fear of clowns]. I can tell you this though, I am certain this psycho clown is disturbing in a variety of ways. From his maniacal teeth-clenched grin to the hint of blood dripping down his chin this clown could inspire fear quite easily. When Stephen applies the added touch of the surreal multiple sets of eyes, this clown gives old Pennywise [from Stephen King’s It] a run for his money in the creep department.
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Title: Held down by the man Artist: Stephen Gibb Media Used: Oil on wood Size: 19 X 22 Date Created: 2008 RJP: The slogans of the sixties revisited. “Stick it to the man”. But, who is the man? Is he/she so unlike us as to be our antagonistic nemesis? In fact, within our psyches we are ‘the man’ ourselves. Impulses and urges are held in check by the more rationale parts of our minds. The ego, according to Freud, guided by the superego, restrains the id. In this topsy turvy offering Stephen Gibb has played out the alternative. The id triumphant! The jumbled anatomy representative of the chaotic nature an absence of impulse control implies. 18. RJP: What advice would you have for a young artist starting out today? SG: Don’t be afraid to ask for advice. 19. RJP: Do you have any big plans or shows coming up in 2009? SG: I have huge plans, some are top secret. What I can tell you is I’m working on a series of paintings based on influential things in my life that I want to pay homage to. A lot of artists and pop cultural cues will be the focus. It will be a smorgasbord of strange. As for shows, keep your ear to the ground. I’m sure I will do the Freak Show again (possibly around November) and whatever else comes my way. 20. RJP: How would you like your art, and by extension yourself, to be remembered? SG: Was it all a joke? Or was he serious...?
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A – by Tindersen Blacktree Hoopdriver
Short Fiction THE MAGIC MUSHROOMS PART II By Jim Gibson
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Sean was reminded of how tedious the limo business is at times while on a recent bar run. He’d taken a group of middle-aged businessmen to a strip club and was parked outside, waiting. A fully clothed, but attractive young lady was pacing back and forth in front of the club, attempting to lure the young Americans, as they walked the streets between the bars, to sample her club. At one point during this routine she attempted but failed to hold back a huge yawn and, spotting it, Sean asked “Tired are ya?” She replied with, “It looks like your job is as boring as mine,” and then they both smiled. “Got a quarter?” Kenny asked, suddenly interrupting Sean’s thoughts by opening the back door of the limo and depositing his bag. “Sure. Why?” Sean then turned and looked through the open divider. “Need to use a phone.” Sean dug a quarter from the change in his pant pocket and Kenny came up to the driver’s window to retrieve it. Thanks man!” Kenny looked fresher than before but still seemed frazzled as he hurried to a payphone outside the cashier’s booth. He returned minutes later and settled in the back seat so Sean seized the opportunity to ask about the money situation. “Kenny, you only paid for four hours. I need some more cash.” “Okay man!” “Like, I’m talking some cash before we go any further.” Kenny opened the front of his sport coat and revealed a money bag at his waist. Out of it he drew a wad of cash and counted out some bills. “Here’s five hundred.” Sean reached back, took the money, and then counted it. “That should do it.” “How long will that give me?” he asked. “Early morning...” Sean avoided a specific answer on purpose but he'd quickly calculated that a bar closing at two and a four o’clock arrival back in Windsor would net a decent tip. Kenny, true to form, didn’t respond. “So, is your girl going to meet you?” “We’re going to the bar but she needs some time to get ready.”
“Well, why don't we drive there, and then just wait outside.” Sean didn’t want to start driving all over ‘God’s green acres’; Kenny was too nuts. “Man, you’ll be impressed with this girl; she’s got huge tits. Man I love her!” Sean thought, “The word is lust, not love, Kenny. Lust...!” But, of course he didn't voice it. He was about to pull away and head up Wellington when Kenny, without warning, opened the door, got out, and headed into the cashier’s booth. Soon after, he returned with a package of gum, popped a piece in his mouth and then got back in the limo and stuffed the package in his bag. “Let’s go!” he announced. “We’re off!” Sean responded emphatically. They traveled north on Wellington, past the White Oaks Mall and the Tony Roma’s ribs place, familiar territory for Sean. Within fifteen minutes they were parked in front of an old brick home with a small cement stoop. “This it?” asked Kenny. “Don’t know. It should be, but I don’t see a number. I wonder if there’s an east and a west to this street.” Sean checked his pockets for the scrap of paper with the instructions but couldn’t find it. “Think we might have turned right instead of left; the numbers of the homes suggest we’re here but I’m not sure. Let’s check, okay?” Sean was beginning to feel like he was talking to himself because, again, Kenny didn’t reply. So he ignored it, turned the limo around in the broken-up driveway that led to a garage at the back of the lot, and headed back across Wellington. When he checked the houses on the east part of the street, each had a number but none the one that he was looking for. “I guess that other house was the one. Let’s go back,” he said to his uninvolved nut-case-of-a-client sitting idly behind him; he was beginning to feel like a babysitter. They weren’t back in front of the first house more than a few seconds before a dark haired girl in her early twenties and a fair-haired boy of the same age emerged from a side door and walked toward the limo. They were holding hands. “Well, this is interesting,” thought Sean. “Kenny, is this the girl you’re taking back to Windsor to live with you? She has a boyfriend.” “I’ll get her!” he replied emphatically. “Money talks...!” Sean usually opened the doors for his clients but before he could react, Kenny opened the door and Dawn poked her head inside and looked around before climbing in
and taking a seat close to Kenny but on the side seat. The boyfriend followed and sat beside Dawn. “This is my driver, Sean,” said Kenny. Sean threw her a wave across the opening of the divider. “Hi Sean,” said Dawn. “Hey Kenny, this is cool.” The boyfriend said nothing and Kenny ignored him. “How much money do you have in there?” asked Dawn as she leaned over and attempted to open the money bag at Kenny’s waist. “Hey, there's a lot,” Kenny replied, at the same time fighting her off. “Well, how much?” This time Dawn flirted with Kenny by moving over and cuddling up beside him. “Come on, you can tell me,” she asked demurely, again reaching for the bag. “Almost twenty thousand...” “Ooh.” Dawn made eye contact with Kenny, and then moved back beside her boyfriend. “Wow!” Sean thought; but he also wondered where Kenny had acquired all that money; it could only attract trouble. “So, what’s happening?” Sean asked, without raising his voice, as a general question to the group behind him. Dawn heard him and asked Kenny, “Got any beer?” “We can get some. Sean, stop at a beer store,” instructed Kenny. “Got it,” Sean replied. “Is there anything close, Dawn?” “On Wellington,” she replied. “Okay thanks.” It was a five-minute drive north on Wellington before Sean spotted a beer store and pulled into the parking lot. No one in the back made a move so he asked, “Want me to get it?” He was happy to grab a break from the incoherent chatter, everything from singing to hysterical laughing. Sean exited the car and wandered to the back expecting the window to be opened. When it wasn’t, he opened the door.
“What do you want?” he asked as his eyes scanned the group; he assumed it would be a group decision. “Three cases of Blue,” instructed Kenny without consulting anyone; and before handing Sean two one hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change.” Sean took the money and immediately headed off for the automatic doors of the beer store, waited for a biker carrying in empties, then followed him inside. He glanced, as always, at the variety of brands displayed on wall shelves, everything from standards like Coors and Canadian to imports like Corona from Mexico and Stella from Belgium. “Can I help you?” asked an attendant at one of the cash registers. “Three cases of Blue...” The attendant repeated the order into a mike and seconds later the three cases rumbled along the conveyor drums from the back room to the front. “I’m going to leave one case here for a few seconds, if you don’t mind?” Sean asked the attendant. Then without waiting for an answer, he piled one case on top of another and started for the limo; it was a warm night but with a cool breeze so, while the cases were heavy, he didn’t work up a sweat. Unsure of where Kenny wanted the beer, Sean gently lowered the cases and placed them on the tarmac by the back door of the limo, opened it, and asked, “Where do you want these?” “One case in here and the rest in the trunk,” Kenny instructed in a more forceful and confident voice than Sean had heard up to now; and something told him that this was not a good sign. Sean carefully picked up one case- he was always mindful of protecting his backand handed it to Kenny, who in turn put it on the floor and proceeded to rip it open. Leaving Kenny to the task, Sean closed the door, went to the front passenger door, opened it, punched open the glove compartment, and then pushed the yellow button to pop the trunk. After that, he walked back to the case of beer he’d left by the back door, placed it in the trunk and gently closed the lid to the point where it closed by itself. “Over fifty dollars just for buying some beer...? Not bad,” Sean thought. His attitude was simple; if he was going to do something that caused him to be away from home, particularly at night, it had better be worth it. Sean could hear the noise from inside the limo as he walked to the driver’s door but the darkened glass prevented him from seeing anything other than his own reflection. However, in this case, probably nothing was happening that could possibly embarrass anyone. But there had been instances with past clients when it might- the time, for
instance, when he’d driven six ladies- three couples- to London to hear Melissa Etheridge; the activities and the conversation in the back that night would most certainly have embarrassed, if not angered, a lot of people. “You forgot a case!” announced someone behind Sean. He turned toward the new voice and saw the beerstore attendant standing at the open door of the store holding a case of beer. “You forgot a case,” she repeated. He tapped his temple with my knuckles, the universal gesture for dumb, and then began to walk quickly toward her. The attendant met him halfway, handed over the case, and then asked, “Anyone famous in there?” “No. No one famous... Infamous maybe, but not famous,” he replied, and then thanked her for carrying out the case, turned, and started back to the limo. Carrying something causes you to watch more closely where you’re going and Sean found himself looking down on the tarmac, a type of surface he’d generally not focused on. But now he did; he noticed the different colors of the pebbles within the tar, the numerous oil stains, a section that looked like arctic polygons, the occasional pothole, even cigarette butts. He put the case in the trunk, did a quick scan of his surroundings to be sure he had the room and the grade to safely maneuver, got into the limo and started it up.
Bookmark - by Tindersen Blacktree Hoopdriver
“All set folks?” he asked his group. “Are we going to the bar?” Dawn asked Kenny.
“Of course... We’re gonna rock!” “To the bar, Sean,” instructed Dawn. “Do you know how to get there?” “I think so.”
It was a fifteen-minute drive, as they headed east on Oxford, then north on Adelaide, before turning into a small strip mall’s parking lot surrounded by apartments and single-family houses. The lot was only half full; not surprising since it was after six on a Monday. The mall contained a variety store at the east end, a pharmacy and hair salon in the middle, and the bar on the west end. Sean chose a parking space- actually he took up two spaces that faced each otherthen sat while the boyfriend got out and lit up a cigarette, leaving Dawn inside with Kenny. Kenny seized the moment and took his best shot. “You’re coming back with me tonight!” he exclaimed before moving over beside Dawn on the side seat and attempting to put his arms around her. “Kenny, I have a boyfriend,” she said, moving away. “I have money,” Kenny said, again trying to put his arms around her. To Sean, Kenny’s actions were pathetic and he felt sorry for him; he was getting lust, love and money all tangled up with each other. Sean knew it; but so, probably, did Kenny; he just couldn’t help himself. Mind you, some women do rate money above love. Sean recalled having asked Kay if she’d ever marry again, and if she did, would it be for love or for money. “Give me the money, honey!” she’d exclaimed without hesitation. “Let’s see if the bar is open,” said a cornered Dawn as she attempted to get by Kenny and out the door. Sean bounced out of his seat and scurried back to open the door but Dawn beat him to it. “Got a cigarette?” she asked her boyfriend as she clambered out of the limo and went to stand beside him. “Sure,” he replied as he lit a new cigarette with the one he was smoking, and then handed it to her. Kenny followed, but instead of joining Dawn and her friend, he nervously sauntered toward a small group of young people who were standing in front of the variety store. Sean decided to get back in the limo and use the break to call Jenny. He dialed, let the phone ring seven times, and then hung up as he began to hear the irritating highpitched screech of the fax. “Must be taking the dog for walk,” he thought, just as his cell
phone rang. Checking the call display he saw it was Jenny and answered. “Hi. Tried to get you...” “Yeah I know. I lost my glasses and couldn’t see to find the phone.” He believed her because he’d seen this happen before; she'd misplace her glasses and then couldn’t see well enough to find them; and with the phone often set by the ironing board, the laundry tubs, or even under towels, the task of finding it was compounded. “What’s happening?” Jenny asked- a good question because, in the limo business, strange things did happen and tonight’s run was promising to make a top-ten list; right along with the seven drunken wives, en route to a Bon Jovi concert dropping their underpants on cue as they stood up in the low brush beside a heavily traveled freeway stateside. Sean answered her with, “It could be a long night.” “Why?” she asked. “Well, I’m sitting in the limo outside a bar in the north of London and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m here when it closes.” “Oh gees! Should you tell Kay?” “Probably...” “Well, just take the day off tomorrow if you’re late getting home.” “Yeah, well, I’ll see. So, how are you?” “Oh I’m fine.” She then proceeded to tell him who she’d talked to on the phone, and that, maybe she’d work on playing her keyboard if he wasn’t going to be home. He, in turn, assured her that he’d be in touch. “Do you want me to call Kay?” she again asked. “Yeah, okay, but its cash so she doesn’t need to stay up. But she knows that.” “Can you get some sleep?” “I’m going to try. Listen, this is long distance. I’d better hang up.” “Yeah, okay.”
Sean hung up, then glanced to see if his group was anywhere in sight. It wasn’t, so he decided it was time to grab an hour’s rest, and then eat some lunch. If it was a concert, and the clients were clean and tidy, he often slept in the back, knowing that he wouldn’t be interrupted for two or three hours. More often than not, however, the back seats were littered with bottles, food, and clothing so he was forced to sleep in the front, his head resting precariously on one door arm-rest, feet balancing on the other. Obviously, sleeping inside a limo was not like being in one’s own bed; but even a couch was better. Tonight he was tired enough to endure almost any conditions. Oh, at first, he listened to his heart beat and heard every voice and foot step, but he also knew the doors were locked so eventually he was in a deep sleep, only to be awakened by his own snoring. A sudden glance outside revealed that the sun was getting low in the sky so he sat up, then turned the key in the ignition in order to check the limo’s dashboard clock; it was nine o’clock. Once he pulled himself together, his thoughts turned to finding his group. Glancing around, he could see that there were more people than before mingling around the front of the bar but neither Kenny nor Dawn and her boyfriend were immediately visible. For now, this absence didn’t trouble him; he felt calm, comfortable and rested; and hungry. He took the sandwich out of the red Coca Cola bag- he could almost taste the oven-roasted turkey sandwich before he’d even taken the first bite- unwrapped the cling wrap and took the first mouth watering bite; it wasn’t a Christmas turkey dinner, just a sandwich, but the soothing effect of that first bite was just as satisfying, maybe more so because the surroundings were so quiet. A few minutes later, he was finishing a half of a sandwich, and calmly popping big, purple, seedless grapes in his mouth, when he was interrupted by someone attempting to open the back door. A glance in the side view mirror revealed it was Kenny. “Shit!” he quietly muttered, before pushing the button to unlock the doors. Kenny climbed in, followed by three young people- two guys and a girl- that Sean hadn’t spotted in the mirror. Seconds later, Kenny left but the others stayed. Sean had a rule, briefly put, that paying customers could sit and ride in the limo while non-paying customers were not welcome and actively discouraged. So, he asked, “What’re ya doin guys?” while glaring at the freeloaders with his ‘this better be good’ look, something he’d learned in his teaching career while confronting smokers in a stairwell, or challenging talkers during a quiet work session in the classroom. “We’re partying,” replied the girl, a cute, curly-haired blonde.
Sean, in turn responded, annunciating every word clearly and slowly for effect. “Not, here, you’re, not...” The group didn’t protest, perhaps sensing that the environment wasn’t conducive to doing whatever they were planning on doing. “See ya,” said Sean, his matter-of-fact tone of voice re-emphasizing his position. The girl promptly opened the door and left, followed by the two guys. Sean watched them saunter toward the bar, half expecting a rendezvous with Kenny. Instead he saw him emerge from the bar and head east along the mall’s sidewalk, arm in arm with a new girl before disappearing around the side of the pharmacy. “Kenny’s busy; but doing what?” he wondered. Minutes later Kenny reappeared with his arm around the girl’s shoulders and headed inside the bar. Curious, Sean exited the limo and followed them.
To be continued…
Untitled - by Bob Labute
Untitled – by Lisa Marie Mueller
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Writer’s Column Creation in our World – by Larissa Gula What Good Art Does Hey gang! I hope no one missed reading this too much last month. I’m sorry to admit that January is not my favorite month of the year. It’s tradition that my mental health and relationships go to Hades for a brief fiasco and vacation, as well as my physical status. This year my back did not go out on me, which was a previous ailment – but I was sick for almost the full month. I still do not have a clear-cut reason for why this happened, so we’ll never know the reasons.
This was also the start of a new semester for me, which of course means pure chaos all around in terms of settling in and buying textbooks. Now that things are settling down, my classes are actually much more interesting on a personal level than last semester’s. Rather than taking basic classes that are prerequisites, I am able to take three English classes (on literature, journalism, and creative writing), a film studies, and another anthropology class in addition to last semester’s. It’s working out quite well for me. I have found myself back in touch with my inner muse after three months of being unable to produce much of anything. Having words near me constantly for English classes is doing me some good. It’s also exposing me to some magnificent literary art forms. So of course I had to think, just what divides the art forms people like us create from the things we aspire to mimic and surpass? To avoid going into a very deep essay, I think there are three very basic ideas behind “great art” that come off the top of a person’s head – and they are: *Great art tugs your heart; *Great art inspires others; and *Great art transcends somehow in its simplicity. This was an idea I had a long time ago – way back in August, when I was still exploring my college campus. I went inside one of the buildings to escape the heat and was lucky enough to catch one brave young man rehearsing in our music hall. I was incredibly moved by his voice and the song, a song about love.
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See? A simple idea – a piano and a love song. This is a pretty basic and repeated thing. Yet this young man’s voice was able to stir tears in my eyes, and I went back to my room to write out my feelings as soon as I could form words to describe them. Of course, there are other components to good art – and anyone who has ever taken a class focusing on it could probably rattle off the finer points. For our purposes, a three step check list is a good way to get started. But why just rattle off a list? This month is the start of a new idea. Rather than just preach about creating things, I figured I would share the inspiration I can find. Each month there will be an image posted under my column. It may be a photograph, it may be a poem, or it will be artwork. At first, I admit I’ll probably stick to personal photography. They will be good photos and will avoid any possible copyright issues, as long as no one tries selling the images of course. I urge everyone each month to look over the image being shared and let some idea come to you. You don’t feel to make it a final idea, but how better to practice then, well, practice? (Also – it will give everyone who takes part something to submit for the next month’s issue!) This month’s image is:
http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a253/aniu15228/100_0414.jpg
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So, sit down, write a poem, write a story, paint a picture – come up with something new and original based on this, even if it’s just for practice to ease back into a routine. Stir up emotions in your words or colors. And through editing and changes, the other two should eventually follow. I hope to see submissions based on this next month – because if I don’t this idea might not last long! Best of luck, -Larissa P.S. I have to insert advertising, folks (and I hope you’ll let this in, Randy!) I started a new blog last month that is public (as opposed to my LiveJournal), and I have high hopes for its future. As well as reposting my old poetry and my columns for this e-zine (so others can read them), I’m aiming to repost my newspaper articles. Remember, I write for Arts & Entertainment – so I’m sure everyone will find something interesting in the realm of theater, CDs, songwriting and performing, and art galleries! In addition to this, I have other ideas – such as an analysis of bands in my iTunes (histories and why I like them), a top 5 song list every week or so (and I do not listen to rap if this is any comfort in my music choice!), and links to my favorite DeviantArt.com artworks every week. In other words, over time you have potential to read some cool culture articles, discover some new bands, and see some new artwork that may inspire you. So please, at the very least take a look over what’s there so far. Then, if you like it, bookmark or follow my blog. It would an honor to be writing for more than myself. Share the link, too – I want to spread the word! Hope to see you there! http://trolleygirl13.blogspot.com/
Oscar Wilde – by Roger Davidson
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Jack Nicholson – by Jon Biermann
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Poetry Poems – by Larissa Gula Mother Nature Lush and green grass waves in the wind Alongside the aqua lake – All of the life on her domain is her kin. Time touches and shapes her homes He is her master, but also a friend Who will never leave her here alone. Legs race with a rising heartbeat As her children run along For her to forever watch and keep. And when the dead sink into the ground It is Time and other children Who makes it so nothing will be found. The cycle can never end As long as the Mother lives But if her children bring the end, It will be Time who comes for us.
Dreams By Candlelight Through the splintered door, he walks. He looks over the flickering kitchen, breathes in the vanilla candle and its familiar yearning and hunger. He takes her hand and brushes their fingers and wipes the melted wax to ease the throb – As he always has, in their dreams, in his letters, with his gliding touch. He takes the candle from her folded hands and lets her eyes grasp at his as they find familiarity in another world, inhabited by two. They stand and stare together –
Unseen Trees of Time – by Tariq Rafiq
and silently speak of the year gone by and see the wars within conquered wishing them down the oily sink. He dips down to blow out the candle – She shakes her head, touches his nose. They need its light to illuminate their dreams tonight And tomorrow they will need it still to find the path they’ll follow. and maybe this time They will not need two candles To light two roads and maybe their fingers will not let go, and will remain Together.
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Midnight Train I once picked up a dusty violin with a flimsy, cracking bow. It felt lonely, and screamed in my hands at the thought of being returned to its case, to the shadowy corner. Instead of putting it away, I lifted the wood to my shoulder. I softly coaxed a tune from the quivering wood, until I recognized the whistle being thrown out by the calming instrument.
Nude Series 4 – by Belinda Da Fonseca It had matched the nightly call of my old machine companions. With their creaking pistons, and gears, and proud smokestacks, they marked the trail constantly traveled until their message was lost in the clouds. The old ladies and Big Boys that ruled our land have diminished now.
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Yet my violin, my newfound friend, was mimicking the night I crumpled into the soft leather of days behind me. I rode along to the next station in the engine’s favorite coach, watching fields illuminated by lover’s lamps, and marshes filled with fireflies blinking their SOS – come to me. Now. The places came and went with the rattle of the Midnight Train. My trip, with no destination in the mind of the leader, carried me on, and on, and on. My only companion was peace. What a quiet pair we were. We rumpled and rocked along; the motions began soothing cracked fingers, and massaging beyond my limbs into a weary back; the motions began nudging, opening constricted capillaries –
Just Another Fence Bottom – Lee Ann Marie Macdonald Yet as the clogs I had obtained began to dissipate within me, the whistle suddenly screamed her shrill cry. It pierced the quartet circle in my attic corner. My eyes snapped open, the emptiness of carved wood still draped over my shoulder; it began quivering as it realized it had lost its companion. The shriek of bow-on-string ruined the chemistry. The dream we had created was now echoing, Echoing… Echoing… Leaving me nowhere appreciated.
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A Useless Disguise Beautiful blue lakes shimmered, and sunlight played By peeking its corners out from behind leaves, Flashing on hooves that clattered on cobblestones As they traveled towards their locked doors. Old Iron whistled from the mountains by day Breaking silence up and down the forests – And by starlight the lamps were blown out, violently, Becoming shards of flying wax, as the villages hid. But this morning, the men share embraces by dawn’s cloak And lover’s eyes glitter as their blue lake once could And the children run off with strips of tattered clothing – The now useless disguise of poor folk apathetic during war So that the men can trade hoods for a red uniform, darkened With unforgiving, never forgetting stains And the wearers can do nothing but hike up Old Iron’s Mountains, wishing they could hop onto a ride back down.
Untitled – by Tariq Rafiq
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By CS Cartier – Balance of Choice
9/11 and JFK were someone’s idea of art Remember that total produced is the sum of all parts Examples like these, are littering history books This must mean, if you only take a quick look, That we are evil thru and thru, head down to our toes Why chaos does not run ramped, no one does know. Upon further thought, and further deliberation Acts of kindness do show up across the nation. Volunteers and neighbours are trying to make a change It is up to us, not government to clean lakes and move the mountain range. Let us not judge man from monsters in our past Criminals may come and sadly innocent blood cast,
Inner Demondz – by Stan Nelson Does this determine if we are good, or evil; I am not qualified to tell But hand and hand is our strength, and when together, there is no hell.
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Thoughts on a cold, grey, February – by R.J. Paré The stark morning light penetrates, the car windows, with illusory warmth.
Bred to accommodate eyes of devotion, blind, to predicament.
Combustion driven hulk, idling heat, leaves us monoxide consequence.
Modern man scoffs denies what beasts we are, when shorn of our tinker toys.
The canine in the passenger seat, wants more, than its tongue in the wind.
An urge to smash my cel, to bits, and smear clean mud on my receding brow.
The loss of hills and forest, the price paid, when choosing man as best friend.
The bards of warmth locked in ice – thoughts on a cold, grey, February.
The Devastation of Depression – by Lee Ann Marie Macdonald.
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Tom Selleck – by Jon Biermann
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Non-Fiction Futurism in the Funnies – By Roy G. James
Figure 27 – Marvel Team-Up # 45, Marvel Comics Group, 1976, “Future Shock” Character: Spiderman
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Chronology The study of time, the control of time and the passage of time has always been an element of literature including comics for “time in ad finitum” [please excuse the pun]. That great science-fiction writer H. G. Wells expounded on the topic with his book “The Time Machine;” so, too, has Mike Grell reached levels of profundity on the topic in Figure 28 [and Spiderman in Figure 27]. Even the March Hare of Alice in Wonderland was concerned that he was “late for a very important date.” The very essence of the future is in time. Perhaps this is why the comic book writers and artists treat it so sanctimoniously and frequently.
Figure 28 – 1st special issue # 8, National Periodical Publications, Inc., 1975, “Warlord: Land of Fear” Character: Warlord
Editor’s Note: For all those who have enjoyed this nostalgic feature and its ‘retro’ perspective on Futurism - check this space next month for the final installment of Roy G. James classic essay [originally published 1980]:
Futurism in the Funnies Page 46
Self & Stephanie – Lisa Marie Mueller
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Family Life The Drunken Dragon Tavern – By Christina Marchetti Hi there folks, I've got another recipe for you here. The recipe in and of itself is not documented as historical, but all the flavours are there. The original recipe came from a Women's Circle Home Cooking book, but I've tweaked it to give it a medieval flavour. Enjoy. Tastefully yours, Tina. 1 cup of margarine or butter 1 cup of white sugar 1cup of brown sugar 2 eggs 1tsp vanilla 1/2 tsp of orange extract or the grated peel of one orange 1 1/2 cup flour 1/2 tsp salt 1/2 tsp baking soda 2 tsp cinnamon 2 tsp all spice 2 tsp cloves 1 tsp ginger 1 1/2cup of apple chopped into small pieces, OR 1 cup fresh apple and 1/2 cup of dried fruit such as raisins, or chopped apricots or dates, OR 1 1/2 cup chopped dry fruit 3 cups quick cooking oats.
Medieval Kitchen – by Cindy Renfrow Cream butter and sugar. Beat in eggs, vanilla and orange. Add dry ingredients and mix well. Add fruit. Drop by teaspoonful onto a cookie sheet with parchment paper on it. Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for approx. 10 minutes until golden. The texture of the cookie is going to be dependant on what kind of fruit you put into it. If using strictly dry fruit, you will come out with a crisper, drier cookie. The apples give a moister cookie. Enjoy. This again is a recipe that kids love!!!
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Great Food on a Tight Budget – by Pauline Paré Buying groceries in a recession can be disheartening to say the least. The good healthy foods that we are used to are becoming more expensive and more affordable foods may not be nearly as healthy for you. On my last shopping visit, I saw celery at $3 and tomatoes at 3.50 a pound. Getting frustrated at the prices of my favourite veggies and fruits, I decided to try something new. I noticed that rutabaga was only 50 cents a pound so I grabbed one of these strange oversized roots and brought it home. Rutabagas I Googled rutabagas and found that they are very popular in Europe. I found that they are great in stews and are used in a Swiss dish called rotmas. Rotmas means ‘root mash’ and is made by boiling cut up rutabaga, carrot and potato then mashing the 3 together just like mashed potatoes. My family loved it and the dish cost very little. I now look at the prices of vegetables and if I find a good deal on some that I haven’t tried, I buy it and look it up. I found out that I just love kale for instance and it has more iron than spinach at half the cost. With a little creativity, I am able to feed my family dinners packed with healthy veggies for a lower cost and I enjoy trying new flavours. Also, look at food that you normally associate with holidays, such as yams (sweet potatoes). The prices on these have dropped dramatically and there are great recipes online. They taste wonderfully sweet when paired up with carrots and they liven up plain old potatoes. Kale Trying new things can help you save money and eat healthier.
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Pop-Culture Comic Book Review – By Brad Bellmore
Soulfire – Variant Cover Art – Aspen Comics
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Soulfire Thumb partly up. I picked up the second issue of Aspen Comics’ “Shadow Magic” a new miniseries of the Soulfire, written by Vince Hernandez and drawn by Sana Takeda. A large story arc is laid out here with three different tales in this one issue all of which allude to and offer much more to come if you stick with the next issue. The issue opens with the hunting adventures of two young girls. As they resurface in the story, anticipation is created for their involvement in the larger tale. The same is true for the young dragon that gets trapped and later rescued. Nothing is clear yet how either of these tales fit together or with the third, but expectation of payoff grows readily. The third tale carries the weight of this book and provides the greatest tension and drama. In this portion, a princess finds herself in battle and relying upon he magical powers to survive and win. Although I don’t quite get all the layers of her character, she is intriguing. Again, not much is resolved in this one issue, but it whets the appetite for the larger arc continued in the next issue. For those who are familiar with Aspen, it is not surprising to say that the art in this comic is astoundingly beautiful. Everything about this book pops. The drawing, the colors, the characters, the backgrounds – all of it is pretty. Of course, the female characters more so than the rest, living up to Aspen’s reputation of portraying the most exquisitely gorgeous woman in the medium. Beyond that, the use of light and shadow and darkness to enhance the mood and tell the story worked well. Only at one point did I get lost in the flow of the panels, that because one panel (a close up) was so small that I missed it as part of the detail of the larger splash panel. The young dragon looks a little too much like Ord from the Dragon Tales cartoon on PBS, but otherwise the dragons are great. The art alone makes this comic worth the read. That could be said for anything published by Aspen. If large story arcs bother you, this may not be the title for you. If more complex tales fascinate you, that is offered here. Recently, I connected with Victor Castro, artist on Scionic, a new graphic novel by Arcana, written by Phillip Daay. This is our conversation about that project and his shot at something big. More information on the project, check out Victor’s forum on the Arcana website: http://www.arcanacomics.com/forum/viewtopic.php?t=4896&highlight=victor+castro RKYV: Tell us a little about Scionic. VICTOR: Well here is the synopsis for Scionic: In the year 2074, a long and devastating global war called the Geno-Purge explodes between two factions, ordinary humans and those who have enhanced themselves with technology. Two new races of humanity rise from the ashes. Those with genetic manipulations are named the Homo Geneticus. Those with cybernetic enhancements are known as the Homo Roboticus. Now decades later, another wave of technology threatens the world balance of power. A secret government program breeds innocent children to serve as living weapons of mass destruction… and a lone, disillusioned general named Theophilus is determined to rescue them.
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RKYV: How did you get connected with this project? VICTOR: I was contacted via email by Sean O’ Reilly, senior editor and CEO of Arcana Studios. The email was very straight forward; he asked if I could generate 80 plus pages on the back end. So, the first response I give him is “who the heck are you?” That was brilliant. He explained and I removed my foot from my mouth and agreed. RKYV: How did you get connected with Arcana? VICTOR: My connection came from Platinum Studios. As you may know I was one of the top 10 finalists in the 2008 Comic Book Challenge so after the contest was over I had a chance to meet some really great professionals and they moved my name around the independent networks. Then I got the email from Sean.
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RKYV: Are you still working on the project from the Comic Book Challenge? VICTOR: Not presently. The Warrior chronicles is on hold while I work on Scionic. I plan to get back to it when I have time, but that will depend on other future projects. RKYV: What is it like interpreting someone else’s story visually? Is it hard? Do you find opportunities to express yourself while doing this? Or is it all a matter of visual transcription? VICTOR: Philip Daay is a professional screenwriter, he has decided to adapt the original film script to a manageable graphic novel and it is still 92 pages long. Visualizing Phil’s pages is not as hard as you might think because of his abilities. He gives me most of the descriptions I need to make a solid panel. I rarely have questions about the page. I try to stick to the letter when penciling the pages so it is more of a matter of visual transcription. The project is almost like creating a storyboard, a series of screenshots.
RKYV: Did you have any creative input with Scionic? Developing the look of the characters? VICTOR: Believe it or not I don’t tend to make any suggestions with Scionic unless Phil and I hit a speed bump in the rendering. Sometimes it is difficult to get a panel perspective to work so I make some suggestions but so far it has all worked out. As far as the characters I have stayed within the descriptions that are in the script. I had the opportunity to visualize a good amount of the weapons and vehicles. RKYV: How do you interact with Phillip? You’re not in the same place are you? VICTOR: Email mostly. He’s in Texas and I’m in New York. Sometimes we have phone calls to clear up details of what he really wants in a panel. If he adjusts the script, he sends that to me. RKYV: Have you worked on a project of this size before? VICTOR: No, this is a definite test for any artist.
Scionic Variant Cover – by Victor Castro
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RKYV: Are there any other projects that you will collaborate on? VICTOR: Oh yes, I have spent the last couple of months working with independent companies with their initial development of books and ideas. This tends to be the most rewarding part of being a concept development artist and penciller. I can help the company or individual take the next step towards making the art, project, characters and all that become a reality. Most of this work is free. So far, I have assisted in projects like “When Heroes Were” from Speakeasy Primates, I am in talks with the VP of marketing for Arcana Studios for another book; the author of Rhino, Siike Donnelly wants me to assist him in his graphic novel called “Heaven’s Echo” and so much more. RKYV: Was the NYCC your first as an artist? You’re first representing Arcana? VICTOR: Yes, NYCC was my first as a professional creator and my first with Arcana, hopefully not my last. RKYV: How does your creative process work? How do you work? VICTOR: Well, it all begins with the script. I read it verbatim and start to give myself a visual and go directly to blue pencil. While I am reading the page I determine what is going to be the focus panel or where most of the action or dialog is going to be. So, the flow starts from left to right paying close attention to the readability of the panels and I start laying out the blue pencil. After I have a solid thumbnail layout and I am happy with it I move to a 4H pencils for sketch lines. At this point most of the more difficult work happens. This is when the characters detail, landscape, environment and action get penciled in. This takes the most amount of time with careful consideration to the panel and the page. After I am satisfied with the sketch lines I move to a 3H pencil to darken the pencils and move more towards the final pencils. This usually creates a nice clean gray pencil page that scans well at a high dpi. Depending on the difficulty of the panel layouts and perspective it takes about 6-7 hours to get to a final penciled page. RKYV: When will Scionic be released? VICTOR: Well, that really depends on me. Sean has established a very comfortable base for his creators. He specified a distinct interest in developing quality work instead of a rushed project. Don’t get me wrong, this can’t take 30 years but he really hasn’t made a deadline for this book. I am working with Philip Daay (the writer) to try to complete the pencils by December 2009. RKYV: What is the best part about working with a writer? VICTOR: I guess the best part is knowing that I have a specific focus. I can reference the script as many times as I need to help me get the panel or page out there. The writer has given me the structure all I have to do is make it happen. RKYV: What works best for you in terms of script to draw from? Do you like getting a panel by panel story? Or do you prefer to create from a prose story? VICTOR: I have only experienced the panel by panel script. The prose story would seem to give me a bigger stake into the books development. I would like to experience both.
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When Heroes Were poster [Flyboy] – by Victor Castro a Speakeasy Primates production.
Raised on Saturday Morning Cartoons – by Pauline Paré Currently, my Rogers on Demand is airing the entire first season of the AMC series “Breaking Bad”. I already have enough shows that I view regularly but I have been laid up with an awful cold, so I decided to give it a try. I have mentioned before how I love the shows made by specialty channels because they take chances and are usually raw and gritty. “Breaking Bad” is no exception. I was hooked right when the main concept was revealed, a middle-aged, over qualified high school chemistry teacher with a load of debts, finds out that he is dying of cancer and decides to ensure his family’s well being by using his chemistry skills to cook crystal meth. Like Dexter, the lines between good and evil are blurred and the show leaves you wondering who to root for. The main character, Walter White (Brian Cranston from Malcolm in the Middle), is likeable and maybe slightly twisted all at the same time. You feel sorry for him but shocked at the extremes he will go to. It is impossible to completely sympathize with his character; after all, he is doing some really bizarre things. There are, however, times when you can understand this man completely; his stubborn pride and the strange satisfaction he gets from finally having full control over one area of his life. The show is filled with interesting support characters and amazing storytelling. The first season is very short, only 7 episodes, but the show never slows down. I only have the season finale left to watch and I am very excited to see it. The second season is starting soon on AMC so if you can catch the first season`, I highly recommend it.