Cover art by Kylie Addison Sabra
All artwork is either altered from its original format or features overlays to help protect the artist.
Letter from the Editor Christmas in Second Life is my favorite time of year. The trees shed their fall wardrobe in favor of winter white. Ponds turn into skating rinks and horses pull sleighs of snuggling couples. Second Life is always magical, but never more so than now. The Rose glistens with newfallen snow. And the family Christmas Tree is decorated and awaits our family gathering. I'm just waiting for the man in red to drop down our chimney. My goal is to publish between eight and ten issues of The Rose Theatre Art Galleries magazine in 2014. I would go for the whole twelve months, but I hate to over promise and under deliver. New Year's Day is just around the corner. I'm not a fan of resolutions. Must be an extension of the over promising and under delivering issue. I like to keep promises—even to myself. The desire to constantly improve and to continually move forward is a strong component of my personality however, and thoughts of selfimprovement loom in the outer reaches of my mind, seeking purchase in my conscious thought. Those that know me best are aware that my health has been on a downwardbound elevator the past couple of years. I'm pulling the emergency stop button on its progress. I've pressed all of the buttons on the upper floors—determined to reverse the process with what influence I still have over my my own body. As this year draws to its inevitable conclusion, I am delighted to have been a part of it and look forward to what the morrow may bring. I wish each of you joy and happiness during this blessed season and peace and prosperity in the year to come. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Lovingly submitted, Kylie Addison Sabra
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By Kylie Addison You may have noticed a new face about Angel Manor—the Lady Margaret. Perhaps you found her charming, or maybe a bit stand offish; or, at worst, flat out rude. Don’t take it personally, it’s just Mum. She’s been away these past couple of years, convalescing in Scotland. We would get over to see her as often as we could. Finally, happily we have been able to bring her home.
She has spent her long life looking after her family and always—always protecting the Angel name. She instilled in her children a sense of elegance, decency and propriety that none has ventured far from. She burnished perceived flaws in her flock as vehemently,
The manor was empty without her. There were times we felt her presence; even catching glimpses of her running a whitegloved finger over the silver, examining it for tarnish; or brushing across a silk lampshade and tsk tsking the staff under her breath when her glove revealed even the tiniest speck of dust. Sadly it was nothingm only a glimmer of light through an open window, or our own intense desire to have our Mum back home. She is with us once more. You may find her enjoying a quiet cup of tea in one of the state rooms. You may even catch a conspiratorial wink exchanged between her and Jeeves as he surreptitiously pulls a flask of brandy from his coat pocket and tipples a bit into her teacup. Mum has a charm about her that may not be readily perceived by the eye, if it merely rests upon her in passing. She wears a mantle of refined grace; a far cry from the faded rose, as some might label her because of her years.
Photgraphy by Kaya Angel
Dowager Countess Margaret Beaufort Angel and as brusquely, as she might rub out an elusive stain that a housemaid had missed. She molded us to seek perfection in all we do. No, she was not always easy to grow up with,
but we never had cause to doubt her love for us. She instilled in us a deep understanding of what it means to be an Angel, and nothing could earn her ire faster than for one of us to forget who we are and what we stand for. Afternoon tea is a tradition in our household. Mum hosts tea like a queen holding court—just as she was taught by her mother before her. We enter the room, a bit breathlessly because we are a few minutes late. Jeeves stands just behind Mother, his tea towel folded neatly over his arm. “Come. Come children. Do sit down before tea grows any colder.” Mum glances pointedly at the clock. We each give her a peck on the cheek and take our prescribed seats. Without a word she places a napkin over Kezzy’s exposed knees. She struggles to hide her disapproval and selfconsciously tugs at her own skirts to ward away the draft about her ankles. Kezzy bites her lip and forces a smile. “Thank you, Mum. It is a bit chilly in here.” The teacup trembles against its saucer in Mum’s hands. We pretend not to notice. Kaya kneels before her tucking her coverlet snugly around her feet. He shares a knowing glance with Jeeves, who deftly pours a bit of brandy into her cup. She sips and the aches and pains begin to ease—steadying her
hands. “There, Mum. That will warm you right up,” he whispers before returning to his seat. Mum clears her throat and her eyes focus on the tip of her nose. “Where is that American husband of yours, Kylie?” “He’s working today, Mum.” “Well he seems a good enough sort, considering his lack of breeding.” She releases a fractured sigh. “I suppose one can’t help into what state one is born.” “Mother. He comes from a wellrespected family, and quite well off, if I may say so. Hawk has made a great success of himself.” Lady Margaret’s lips purse. “He is not English, Kylie. He has no lineage.” She casts a cursory glance at Kaya and Kezzy. “I suppose a spouse of some sort is better than none at all. And what kind of name is Hawk? Who names their children after birds?” She waves the thought away with her hand and mutters, “Americans, of course.”
Photography by Kaya Angel
Dowager Countess Margaret, the Angel Family Matriarch
“He is not a show dog, Mother. I think you miss the finer point. I
love him.” “Love. What has love to do with anything? Will love bring you fortune? Will it endure?” She shakes her head vehemently. “Nothing endures but your good name, Kylie.” Kaya, ever the peacemaker, shifts in his seat and raises his cup. Jeeves is at his side, before he can even ask, and freshens his tea. “Mother. I believe you loved Father. You spent many good years together. You seemed happy.” China met china with an jolting clang. “And then he died.” She sat silently for a moment then whispered in a shatteredsilk voice. “He died.” Her eyes travel away from us, to another time. A solitary tear falls, caught up in the wrinkles of her wizened face. One would not normally think of her as wrinkled. She holds herself in such stern posture that not even age would defy her by tugging on that aristocratic brow. In this moment, though, time tread roughly across her face. Her brow fell to the point of nearly obscuring her once bright eyes. Those wrinkles, held at bay by pure defiance, folded into deep creases over her cheeks, draping below her jawline. And that solitary tear found exit at the tip of her chin. One by one, her children gathered about her. There were no words that could console. None were spoken. It is the way of the Angels. When you meet Lady Margaret at tea or wandering the halls of her great home. Greet her kindly. Behind that stern façade beats a heart filled with love for family and friends, accompanied by regret for times fading and love lost.
Photography by Kylie Addison Sabra
Photograph by Kylie Sabra
Winter Moon Sim
Mystic Winter Dream Sim
Christmas Downsized
by Kylie Addison Sabra
Christmas is filled with idyllic images—the anticipation in a child’s eye; snowflakes as big as saucers, blanketing the Earth in a fleeting coverlet of purity; a lovingly decorated tree surrounded by presents; great feasts regretted on the morrow. These images assault our senses with every greeting card and commercial. We struggle to make our realities match this picture of perfection. It is this very struggle that, for many, turns Christmas into a time filled with angst and unfulfilled expectations. I love Christmas. Without a doubt, it is my favorite time of year, but I think it is time to reevaluate my Hallmark™ moments vision. The worldwide economy is staggering. Many face the prospect of buying presents they can’t afford, going into debt to purchase gifts that will be forgotten before the spring thaw. Empty nesters begin to realize how much of this season was wrapped around children that no longer lend their magical excitement. Those in emotional crisis find their conditions worsen at this time, resulting in increased feelings of depression and anxiety. My husband and I have faced a difficult few years since I became too ill to work. This change came about at the same time our children left the nest. Christmas can not possibly meet the expectations of years past. We downsized our home to a
lovely, small flat with an incredible view of Puget Sound and both the Olympic and Cascade Mountains. I have always been one of those who takes decorating for Christmas to levels bordering insanity—well maybe just obsessive compulsive disorder. However, I’m not physically able to keep up this tradition.
This year, I’ve adopted a new approach to the holidays. I have downsized Christmas. Gone is the sevenandahalffoot tree, covered with over 300 ornaments and 2,000 lights. Yes, 300. I counted them. Last year was the last time I undertook this gargantuan task that easily takes 12 to 16 hours to complete. Besides, such a beast would not begin to fit in our smaller home. Visions of the Grizwold's Christmas tree of Christmas Vacation fame leap to mind. Besides, why block the view that greets us just outside our windows? This year graces us with a sixfooter that I can actually wrap my arms about. I miss the height, so it rests upon a pedestal, elevating it to well over eight feet. Such a tree presents a bit of a conundrum—no room for presents. I smile, knowing they will not be missed, because the giant space beneath our giant trees of yore that demanded to be
filled simply does not exist. Rather than worrying over presents, we are focusing on activities. We kicked off the season with the Seattle Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony the day after the Thanksgiving. We shared the day with my son, his wife and my grandson Henry. It is these events that leave an indelible mark on our psyches—not gifts, but rather time shared with people we love. We will take in the sights of the Bellevue Botanical Gardens, where every limb and stem is covered in lights. We will have friends and family over for brunch or dessert—more affordable and less stressful than preparing fullblown dinners. We’ll pile into the car and tour the neighborhoods known to decorate the way I used to. We’ll treat ourselves to Starbucks™ peppermint mochas and eggnog lattes—well not too many of those. For the first time in the last two to three years, I find myself looking forward to what this season holds. I have finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll not see our children’s eyes light up with wonder as we turn on the lights, or hear their gasps as they enter the room on Christmas morning ready to shred paper in their exuberant quest to see if the guy in the red suit came through for them. It’s just my husband and me, and that is enough.
Merry Christmas Kylie Addison Sabra
Xavorin Soars to New Heights by Kylie Addison Sabra Bianca Xavorin serves as the Rose Art Galleries Events Director. Her social skills are a perfect fit. We welcomed her help in spreading the word about The Rose both in world and through social media channels. She is party girl extraordinaire and she and her partner, Walter Gedenspire, will breathe new life into gallery events. Currently she is working with Skip Staheli on a special art project to be unveiled at the Rose Theatre Christmas Masquerade Ball, December 21st. Staheli released a fullpermission picture of himself; encouraging Second Life artists to take it, work their magic and make it their own. Xavorin is collecting these works and the top contenders will be displayed at the Ball. The winner's work, as determined by Angel Manor family and staff, will earn an honored spot in the Rose Art Gallery lobby. Xavorin is not only growing into her role and finding her way at The Rose, she is clearly growing as an artist, as evidenced by this month's exhibition. The art features well and notsowellknown sites in Paris 1900s. She is determined to hone her skills in order to bring her visions to life. She is venturing into new territory, looking beyond Second Life avatars and turning her lens to the world we inhabit. I look forward to watching her progress over the coming years.
Artwork by Sabbian Paine
Artwork by Sabbian Paine
The Art of Sabbian Paine Sabbian Paine has been capturing the world of Second Life through his lens since early 2009 when he was introduced to the world of Second Life photography. What started out as a hobby for this real life, classically trained artist/illustrator soon became a big passion for Sabbian. Second Life quickly became a new platform of self expression, providing a limitless source of atmospheres and backdrops for his work, which he often refers to as being submersed in a world filled with threedimensional art. In addition to being constantly inspired by the creations Second Life has to offer, music and emotions play a driving force behind Sabbian's work. Each piece
shares the title or a lyric of the song that inspired it and is meant to be ex perienced with that song playing—like a soundtrack for the image. In addition to photography, Sabbian has also dabbled in machinima and received a firstplace award by UTSA for his first machinima created in Second Life. Sabbian's work can been seen in various galleries across the grid and has also been featured in a number of Second Life magazines and a reallife publication. Shortly after being featured in The Best of SL's (BOSL) April 2011 issue, Sabbian joined the BOSL team as a staff photographer.
Larger-than-Life Art Nature of the Beast
by Kylie Addison Sabra
Art, presented at the scale used in a real life home, loses impact in the oversized parameters of a virtual world. Some might find this a disadvantage for an art gallery: I find it a blessing. In this venue, art can excel, become larger than life. Its emotional impact is compounded. Everything else fades into the background and the art piece takes center stage. I've seen pieces in reallife galleries that are freed of the fetters of size limitations. Often they are the old masters; at other times brilliantly colored modern abstract. I feel small before them—not insignificant. Rather, I am engulfed.
I curate for two inworld art galleries in Second Life: The Rose Theatre Art Galleries and Paris Metro Art Gallery. Both structures insist, by their very natures, that art be presented super sized in order to compete with both the size and grand architecture of the galleries. The challenge comes in taming these large galleries. My passion lies in stripping a gallery to its bare, white walls when a new artist moves in, and transforming each gallery into an entirely unique vessel for the incoming art. In three years of virtual curating, I've never repeated a gallery design. I worry I may run out of ideas, but then the new artist arrives and with them, inspiration.
This piece raises many questions for me. I know the calculated, fastidious nature of the artist so I don't question for a moment that the focus blur is intentional. Is the woman in a dream state? Is the hand the hand of a lover? A stalker? Does the set of her mouth speak of fear or longing? Does she see into the future, or feel the pain of regret? Yes, many questions. This is the essential value that much of Belmer's work holds. She makes us think about ourselves. She makes us wonder about her. Kylie Addison Sabra
The Story of Jessica (as told by Isa Messioptra - edited by Kylie Sabra) Once upon a time two men, named David Lynch and Baron Munchhausen, were drinking absinthe in a burning building. In walked a woman named Sylvia Plath. The woman signaled to the men with her curling finger and swiftly demanded, "You two. Come with me." She proceeded to lead them to a hotel room were she explained that she was immediately and simultaneously to be impregnated by both of them. The two men looked at each other with an expression of amazement, shrugged their shoulders. Nine months later Sylvia gave birth. And the baby was named Jessica. The Work, by the artist herself During a conversation with a friend, she made the chance comment that she would rather be a character in a novel than a real person. I got to wondering just what the difference was. Who do we think we are. In Second Life, The Self, that cherished idea of a unique personal identity, is also a blank page for truth and fiction. This creates an open-ended opportunity for intrigue and narrative that I try to exploit by making images. I hope my pictures blend and coalesce beauty and mystery with a dash of uneasiness and a piquant pinch of sensuality , and serve as a nice reminder that appearances and narratives are deceiving and regardless of the virtual world we all participate in, we only have dominion over things of which we have direct sensual knowledge. My work can be freely viewed via my Flickr.
jessica belmer December 2013
I live in the United States and make my living as an art director providing creative solutions in web, graphic and video design since 1996. Since childhood, I've enjoyed expressing myself through many forms of art and music; just about anywhere that tenders a canvas for my creativity. After being introduced to Second Life by a longtime friend, I quickly became involved in exploring the possibilities of creating in a virtual world medium—in both its limitations and its freedoms. My interests in the poetic and spiritual visual language now finds expression in Second Life. I am delighted to share a selection of my work at The Rose Theatre & Art Gallery. 7 Rings is an eclectic collection of three sculptures (Haiku, Flower of Life, Whirly Gigs) and four acrylic paintings textured to Second Life canvas prims (Tangerine Zen, Stillness Within, White Poppies, and Mustard Strain). I keep extremely busy in real life with my day gig and will have a web presence of my Second Life work up very soon (The cobbler's children have no shoes!). In the meantime, please feel free to IM me if you have any questions or comments about my work, or friend me on Facebook Mia Anais aka marleeoneal
Oneal's work is fresh. Her choice of colors lends lightness of spirit. Simple structures, courageously combined, yield complexity that appeals to the senses.
I have been enjoying the beauty of virtual landscapes since I started Second Life in 2007. Whenever I meet talented photographers and appreciate their works, the thought “I wonder how they do that?� flashes into my mind. There are awesome creators here whose works are moving, and inspire me. Thanks to these wonderful artists, I have learned to take more sophisticated photographs of this wonderful world. Of course I love taking pictures in real life, too, but when it comes to an artistic effect, Second Life beats real life in opportunities. Koro Carnell
In a world where you can be anything or anyone you can imagine, it is refreshing to view the world through the eyes of your favorite animal. The horse is ever a soulful creature—humorous, loving, curious. Beverly's work with horses reveals the many facets of their nature.
Artwork by Leonorah Beverly
Leonorah Beverly Beverly started her Second Life in 2008. She immediately recognized the wonderful possibilities that only a virtual, three dimensional world has to offer—building, creating and communicating with people all over the world. After a short and not very successful career as an inworld jewelry designer, Leo stumbled across some inspiring photographs of Second Life and was fascinated with the fabulous craftsmanship shown in these pictures. She decided to try her own hand. Working with colors, surfaces, and all the options available in a virtual world is a challenge that never loses it's attraction. Taking photographs, in Second Life as well as in real life, is not only a way of "imaging" an environment or a person; it's a way to express a personal view, a personal comprehension of beauty and personal emotions. If these pictures can form a relationship between the artist and the beholder, then that is exactly what Leo wants to achieve. Leo was born in Munich, Bavaria, Germany works as a librarian. She met her husband in Second Life and has shared his life for nearly five years.
"Never stop learning. You always will find your own way." Leonorah Beverly
Dream Builder by Kylie Addison Sabra This is my third Christmas build in the Grand Exhibition Hall at the Rose Art Gallery. The hall is 60 x 40 x 12 meters, which doesn't sound like a lot, but Christmas 2011 I built an entire home in this space. It included three rooms and even a view to an outdoor scene with falling snow. At other times, this hall has housed a Louisiana bayou to showcase the work of Domatalia Jinx and a topsy turvy world of darkness that took away your sense of place and time for Aelin Quan. The hall is both blessing and curse as I try to breathe new life into it month after month—35 months now. Rarely has it sat empty. I can hear it ranting at me if it does. At Christmas, I pull from the dreams of my own childhood. I looked very much like the little blonde in the picture. Christmas was a time of pure magic for me and I pour a lot of my self into the Christmas builds. I try to recreate the holiday as seen through the eyes of a child. This year, the child is a princes of Angel Manor. You may see her skipping through the halls from time to time, but look quickly, she may vanish before your eyes like an apparition. The Manor is filled many ghosts of Christmases past. As you step into the great hallway, you will find the art of Toysoldier Thor, Carlotta Ceawlin, TwinkleStarlight, Candace Ducatillon and even a few of my own pieces. Each artist shares his or her
vision of winter and Christmas, in their own unique styles and each is a joy to behold. The young princess' bedchamber is a vision of childhood wishes. Every little girl dreams of a lifesize doll house, and I'm sure that more than a few have dreamed of one made entirely of chocolate, candy and cookies. This petite dream house was created by Boudoir of Second Life. As a girl, I always wanted a canopy bed. My dad would just chuckle and say, "No problem. We'll just hang a can of p—" Well I think you can guess where that tale was leading. Needless to say, I never got my canopy bed, so I gave one to our little princess. In the main family room, the tree is lit and brimming with presents. A warm fire blazes in the hearth. Jeeves supervises the household staff as they rush too and fro with steaming platters and a great prime rib for the buffet table. A table in the sitting area is laden with every conceivable confection to tempt the family after dinner. Jeeves himself sets fresh coffee so it is ready to brew at a touch of a switch. The tea service is laid and a pot of water is set to heat. Today, the family serves themselves, and the staff is released early to spend Christmas with their fami lies—Jeeves being the notable exception. Jeeves has been in service to the family for decades. He will stay and watch over us. No matter how often he is invited to join, he simply can't bring himself to do so. "It isn't proper, Sir," he'd say, but he never leaves our side.