VOLUME I
JANUARY 2015
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ph ot o
PHOTOGRAPHY
POETRY
4// emma Fishman
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6// Virgina Wright 12// sophie gibbings 13// chelsea foster 25// spencer fields 26// andy stoffo 27// jake greene 30// lauren o’neil 49// tyler shephard-moffit
visual art 8// tj edson 28// marissa shea 29// sayre moskwa 45// eva marlier 48// ryan taft
editorials
by
la ur e
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10// kitchen table lindsay donovan 23// possible prophetic inclination hannah katz 24// a chance encounter stefan rehr 31// the orchard katie crawford 43// to suffer lindsay donovan 44// middle school sex ed hannah katz 46// another lovesick lakehouse lindsay donovan 47// boy katie crawford
14// vagabond olivia portegello
50// dreaming of henna elephants lindsay donovan
32// under//stated julia pincus
design: bekah skopil
52// beauty + the hypebeast emma fishman
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selections from archimedes, a suite of six katie Crawford
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They say nothing good happens after midnight, but we are pretty sure we met at 2 am. We immediately bonded over our shared weirdness and strange obsessions; like finds like. After spending a year collaborating together on various projects, our creative chemistry was impossible to ignore. At our reunion dinner this past September, we realized we had come to some mutual realizations over the summer. We ate salmon skin rolls in Chinatown while we tried to find a way to both recognize our newfound creativity and honor the amazing work all around us, in the form of our superiorly talented friends. None of the available outlets felt right for our vision, so, after much debate, we decided to create our own outlet. Just like that, the idea that would be Terrarium Magazine was born. With this first issue, Youthquake, all we aim to do is start a conversation. This magazine exists solely to celebrate the collaborators featured within. While all operated independently, there is an undeniable cohesion in their bodies of work. When soliciting pieces, all were asked to provide pieces that best represented their experience of being young in the 21st century. For every fashion editorial that you see within, those are our babies. From the creative concept to the styling, casting, crew, location, everything comes directly from us. These shoots provided one more way for us to work with some of our favorite contemporaries while showcasing our own talents. Terrarium aims to be a platform that encourages the organic and uninterrupted collaboration between young creatives across several media. The late Vogue Editor in Chief Diana Vreeland once said, “There’s only one very good life and that’s the life you know you want and you make it yourself.” This is the spirit in which this magazine was created; a body of work that we would be both proud to produce and excited to read. We hope that this first issue can provide some artistic insight into the beautifully unpredictable experience that is 21st century youth. All we can ask is that you never stop reading, never stop growing, and never ever stop creating. all our best, jack + lindsey
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emma fishman 19 // marietta, ga
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virginia wright 22 // Boston, MA
katie crawford
21 // Boston, MA
Selections from Archimedes A Suite of Six For: Richie Who hated all birds but had a good sense of humor This assembly of poetry was developed by putting words to paint, an erasure of text seeking rhythm, and an exploration of my love/hate relationship with Parrots. This process (catharsis, really) gave me a better sense of my voice as a poet and for the first time in two years I’m finally able to pen it, honestly. A professor once told me that I write as if I had never been taught formal sentence structure. He said it was as if I could only write in prose. I delight in that critique and the C+ received on said paper.
Psittaciformes Richard hated parrots the way children squirm at the thought of a dental exam. His fear was deeply rooted, occasionally painful. An image of a parrot however brief caused nausea followed by rapid-fire bowel movements. Richard hated the squawking, perpetual desire for crackers, feet clawing, resting on captains (and by association hated pirates). Avoiding the avian exhibit at the zoo, evading the poultry section of any illuminated pantry, Richard stroked his ear with the missing lobe. His eyes burning with rage as he recalled the parrot with orchid colored wings that mercilessly confused his face with a mango slice.
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tj edson
29 // boston, ma
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lindsay donovan 21 // Boston, MA Kitchen Table I’m Alive, I’m Alive photo by spencer fields
this morning I woke up screaming. I thought we were in love like this? I wanted to suck rosy nectar off the teeth, claim it as earned, a bounty of sweet defeat. I wanted to feel the coil before the bite, his tension and my slow release. I wanted to wipe bones clean of secrets so they gleamed like my mother’s marble counters but I was only disfiguring practicality into poems— an obsessive dream, a tugging thread as I sat at the kitchen table, peeling hard-boiled eggs. I felt like I was full from a breakfast eaten alone. I hear him scoff at my mess, a lyric I used to sing. I hear him walk away from the kitchen,t “why fall in love when you can fall asleep?” its just a sonnet I wish I could write, a rhyme I can’t stop tasting something about how in love I can never decide if I’m being chased or doing the killing.
photo by c helsea foster
I wanted nothing, then, feeling deviled but hard. I was nothing, merely a lonely hunter like one of the wolves that pursues the heart. Yellow eyes, coal fur, a howl that can drown the most ungodly of weeps. Never are they weak, forever hunting birds, the kind that keen at sunrise not in greeting, but calling to all the others that they survived the night.
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sophie gibbings
20 // santa barbara, ca
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chelsea foster 20 // Boston, ma
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Model : Kelsey Flegal | Photography : Olivia Portegello | Clothing Courtesy of Urban Outfitters, AllSaints, ASOS terrarium 14
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hannah katz 21 // boston, ma
Possible Prophetic Inclination Summer nights find us reading together surrounded by fireflies lighting the chilled air there is no need for flashlights Pens and notebooks replace novels and our skin changes us from outside in to a writer I light wicks to keep the night glowing and we fly through blank pages leaving footprints where we barely walked We build skyscrapers on notebook pages and write aging love legends on the walls of my house
art by marissa shea
We explore cracks in my cobblestone driveway and hoist ourselves up on the edge of possibilities for first lines of our stories
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We fulfill prophecies and we write more predicting our own radiation beyond book binds and into minds we’ve never met
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stefan rehr
spencer fields 21 // Boston, MA
photo by marissa shea
20 // weston, ct
A Chance Encounter. The rare mood of today is unparalleled Unrivaled, unbelievable, unrecognizable It was a dichotomy Or, depending on your perspective, a triptych The night, morning, and afternoon Each had its significance and together constituted the love that was realized Not an epiphany-this love was less sudden The conversation was love's manifestation and it happened over time But as the love crept in, intangibility was its accompaniment It was the overarching mood and nevertheless not palpable But this was a lingering love It didnt give up when copulation commenced It continued And incrimentally increased What the future holds is always a question The only certainty in life is uncertainty.
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andy stoffo 22 // Boston, MA
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jake greene 21 // Boston, ma
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marissa shea
20 // new york, ny
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sayre moskwa 21 // boston, ma
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lauren o’neil 22 // Boston, ma
katie crawford
21 // Boston, MA The Orchard I.
The best apple is peeled open Unfurling, blooming, moldy spores, A liquefied universe of green and yellow, Sparked in the in-between of day, cold as they Rode the waves of your rolling endless tongue. II. Lucidity pushed through the base of the earth, Covered your arms, laden with trimmings. Your ear of curled mossy softness, heard, When your breath, that brushed the plain, slowly sifted Out the dark, the soiled, the dead. III. Winter washed out with the sprouting of laid seeds, A swift spread of emerald above, Rescued lilacs like damsels from the muck, To lay around a dying apple tree Sown in the core of your tangled mind.
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Model : Paulina Keamy + Olivia Harvey | Photography : Julia Pincus | Clothing Courtesy of Nastygal, Topshop, LF, Zara, J. Crew, Doc Martens, Sam Edelman | Special thanks Madison Fishman
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lindsay donovan 21 // Boston, MA To Suffer Toska
life is suffering
The damp, city sun woke us welcomed an endless morning a locust of loud streets and sidewalk murals of paper bags and orange peels. Standing on the rusting porch next to barren pots shrinking in the doorway, I asked won’t you come outside, love? But you realized I was not your salvation and to be fair, people have left me for less. ten months ago, who were you trying to save? I called the earth to witness sang a sutra of loneliness as I cried like the Lvotus does in rain. Each root that is pulled from depths and tended to, takes something. Born again in abandonment and murk a poor flower returning to a petaled throne.
photo by chris garcia
I laid back in my deserted bed sank into a diseased rest, not myself and alone.
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hannah katz 22 // Boston, MA
eva marlier
18 // new york, ny
Middle School Sex Ed Your teacher will rip tape off her arm saying after your first time granting access past your invisible chastity belt you won’t quite stick to anyone else Tell her you think virginity is a fallacy Do not talk about the day your dad adopted your sister because he married a single mom that brings up premarital sex Lord Jesus knows you do not want to go there because there looks a lot like hell and, I’m convinced, hell looks a lot like middle school but you brought it up. look scared when she says premarital sex contort your face and say, “I want to be a virgin forever because sex scares me, my body can betray me and it is only my fault if I get pregnant.” Keep your hand on your desk when she says condoms to do not protect from Sexually Transmitted Diseases when she says birth control is evil when she says contraception is a one way ticket to hell and when you realize hell looks a lot like sitting in this too small desk Bible crammed between your science and literature textbooks missing geography class every Thursday for mandatory mass Nod when she tells you your body is a temple nod when she tells you it is your job to keep it sacred your job to keep it pure for your husband so you can love him like he deserves
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lindsay donovan
katie crawford
21 // Boston, MA
21 // Boston, MA Boy
Another Lovesick Lakehouse Kissing between screen doors, falling asleep on the patterned, ripped hammock as we touch tips of toes, reading next to each other. Silently smiling, savoring a simple touch as we slip into the wavy lull of summer snooze.
The boy Is no longer a boy. “Dad’s been off the booze for two weeks, I hope things are looking up through all this misery”. What a father gives,
Kayaking to blueberry island, picking the fresher bushes and housing tadpoles on the beach, you say I cannot keep them. You say I give up too easily on things.
A carrion bird Chewing on a blue marble eye Escorting across the river Styx Or any back country road
Sun bathing on the homemade raft as we touch thighs and giggle together, dripping wet, stealing kisses. This is how I should remember your family’s lakehouse.
A junkyard of husks Former waking bodies Placed a coin on a tongue
Instead, I shiver at how you dove lips first into my collarbone, and whispered into my goose pimpled flesh to see my red panties and tan lines. I remember the way you kissed me into submission bent me over the recliner, the only light shining from moon on water. The only pounding my heart’s.
Paid the toll for passage
Photo by Sophie Gibbings
I remember the seasick way you loved me, thinking I was a tide instead of a pond. You made my mouth water I wanted your disbelief to be true. I remember the way you’d pretend not to keep watch the way you thought I was beautiful in only a towel, sand in my hair. This is what I should forget.
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ryan taft
tyler shepard-moffit
22 // boston, ma
20 // Boston, MA
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lindsay donovan 21 // Boston, MA
Dreaming of Henna Elephants I. Icebergs broke off the cliffs of your pupils, plunged into the ocean and floated; gleamed lightly in the Arctic sun and I was drawn under. You still are a bright buoy breaking through the lip of a rapid wave, thrilling, no matter how unsatisfying. II. You are unafraid to plummet feet first off sawtooth rocks even when the moon is hiding from you and the water feels cold like the things you don’t know. You are always bold in fact a smile ignites your whole body as you paddle down white river, wet suit shining with winter frost, your lips as blue as the currents that ache to break you.
photo by TJ EDSON
You told me I was like the moment when you crawl out of the ocean, shells and sea glass slipping under your stomach, and your hands finally discover warm sand. III. I kissed you when I shouldn’t have but I felt something.
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Beauty + the hypebeast Models: Issac Amerling + Austyn Davis | Photography : Emma Fishman | HMUA : Lia Nagamatsu | Clothing Courtesy of Nike, H&M, American Apparel, Zara, Topshop, Timberland, Alexander Wang, Donna Karan | Special thanks: Stefan Rehr, Jake Landis, Cyrus Wesson, Cayla Komarow, Emily Erdbrink
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art by TJ EDSON