CARDIFF BASED ZINE BY YOUNG CREATIVES ISSUE 2 - FREE
contributors Carl Sutton is a graphic artist and designer currently based in Cardiff. His work is an exploration of deconstruction, anatomy, symmetry and entomology. Since mid-2009 he has been exhibiting personal work, selling prints and working on a range of commercial projects. Instagram: @deprivedanxiety
www.deprivedanxiety.com
Dee Bryan has been working at Photodrome, Cardiff for three years where she discovered photography assisting. She has continued to work in photography shooting for major record labels, magazines and fashion editorials worldwide. www.deebryanphotography.com
Durre is currently studying MA Creative Writing at Cardiff Met. She writes both prose and poetry. When she isn't writing, she can be found at Open Mics and workshops around Roath. durremughal.wordpress.com
Elin Burgess is currently studying an undergraduate degree in Music Technology. She has experience writing both fiction and non-fiction for publications such as The Brainstorm magazine and The Sprout Online. Elin is currently living in Bristol, and travelling to Texas, where her family lives, during her breaks from university.
Ed Fairburn is a Cardiff Illustration graduate who enjoys creating portraits using the contours of collected maps from across the world. His work is also rather popular in the US although he currently resides here in Cardiff. www.edfairburn.com
Efrosyni Tsiritaki is a zesty Greek, currently studying at the Welsh School of Architecture. Fascinated by the power of the arts; intrigued by the proximity of theatre and real life- the way people behave, react and interact; exhilarated by the possibilities of getting lost- at sea, in cities, in words.
Greg Stonard has been taking a break from drawing buildings by drawing people. Always keen to draw portraits of people willing to sit, he is interested in the slowness of portrait drawing, the record of that time spent, and its ability to reveal some sort of intimate expression. www.popupportraitartist.wordpress.com
Hollie is a freelance stylist currently based in London. Having worked on campaigns for several fashion and wedding brands in Cardiff, she is now the social media coordinator for The Whitepepper. When she's not instagramming, she's listening to blues and drinking too many pints for a young woman to consume. hollieblundell.carbonmade.com
Hannah Machover is currently at Cambridge University, reading English. She spent last year at Camberwell College of Art, illustrating her time and hoarding scrap paper. She creates narratives around marks on walls and sees figures in landscapes and spilt coffee. hannahmachoverphotos.tumblr.com
Hayato Nakayama is a Japanese student raised in Singapore and studies in Madrid and LA. He expresses the world he sees and his philosophy through the medium of art. Preferred drink for creativity is Scotch.
Liker of a good stain, a conversation without words, the smell of old books and strangers; Heather Kirk likes taking handfuls of Ikea pencils and finding them in her pockets thereafter. She likes rummaging for things, and she likes secrets, she likes imperfections, and feeling out of breath after a conversation. Heather doesn’t like it when bees get stuck in her fringe. But Heather does like saying hello.
Ian Cooke Tapia is a Cardiff Illustration student from the distant lands of Panama. He has a strong love of Panamanian Pre-Columbian art which has much influence on his work, he also enjoys creating works depicting stylised animals and Welsh myths (which he recently exhibited at the Cardiff MADE gallery). Ian’s work is heavily figurative, focusing on human form and animal studies. He enjoys telling stories but, at the same time, his work is very organic and instinctive.
PHOTOGRAPHY
Hello and welcome to issue two of Are You Lost Yet?, where we celebrate the imagination of a diverse, frustrated and inspiration hungry group of young people. Our contributors are as international as the city we live in, and in this issue I am proud to promote Cardiff as an emerging hub of pass-it-on creativity. In selecting the theme of this issue, WALLS, we were inspired to host our first exhibition of contributors’ work which filled the WALLS of The Abacus this November. We are constantly inspired by the energy that bounces off the WALLS of the Welsh capital and want to encapsulate it, in some small way, in these pages. We deviate from the theme of course; there should be no boundaries, no WALLS to our creativity and offering a diverse range of young people an open platform to reflect on the world they see is at the pulsing heart of what we do. This issue dips into the worlds of fashion, architecture, street art, poetry, illustration, photography‌. We are very proud to amplify these assorted young voices as they navigate the curious zoo of modernity.
Pass on the zine and get involved.
AYLY Founder & Editor-in-Chief
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Co-editor
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Having had his SLR and iPhone stolen within a week, resorted to his 2003 Nokia 6230i to capture summer in Madrid, Istanbul and Cardiff.
I have always considered a camera as a wall to reality, but with the Nokia, the phone that our generation began taking our first digital photos with, the boundary appears as one of time. We are so used to back (and front) facing smartphone cameras but with the Nokia images we view ourselves through the digital quality we became first accustomed, and are surprised by the lack of photographic detail that we expect in this high definition world. I don’t believe that as a collective youth we strive for the perfection that modern smartphone photo-editing offers. We strive for heuristic pleasure, we strive for each other, we strive to create. Using such a simple tool as my 2003 Nokia allowed me to utilise my camera in an unint-ruding way and stay a safe distance from the need for perfection in a photo. The large portion of my photographs are from my time spent in Madrid through the month of July. A city that is filled with too much passion for its calles to hold has its fair share of plazas for the youth to channel desire into conversation. These gatherings are fuelled by the easy to come by weed, and the on-call Bangladeshi men who serve tinnies of locally brewed Mahou from a plastic bag at a cost of ₏1. The youth live up to their name, partying it on until the glorious sunrise which is when a little rolled one and a bottle of cold water help coming down off The Euphoria.
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I want to note the photo of the riot van that is seen on Istikal, the main street that leads to the historic Taksim Square in Istanbul. The oppression young people feel is far more aggravated in this city, with most I met sharing a great belief in the protests they took part in [in 2013]. The police van that blocks the street epitomises the tension that is felt in the undercurrents of this vibrant city; where youth sub culture flirts with religion, the political establishments and multinational corporations. Returning to the Diff, I noticed the peculiarity in our own regimes. Drinking is our fanaticised, and casual, past-time. Spewing due to an intolerable amount consumed is The Trophy Story.
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Trying to capture the true essence of how we enjoy our time was my main mission in this series and thus led me to concentrate on moments where friends are amongst themselves, enjoying each others company within the walls of the cities they happen to find themselves. The photographs break down a wall of time, moving us back to how we recorded the world around us only 10 years ago.
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I work by some twisted tectonics I make islands on landCreating seas in my mind Which I watch from the sand I care not to swim Though some row over to meAnd I welcome them in With customs of tea They can’t stay for long They must leave with the tideFor land’s not a place For an island to reside An island takes comfort In the screech of the crowThe beauty in madness. All that I know; That girl on her bed Made wildly herself With no more excuse For her peculiar words.
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Otherwise known as artist Ekstraternek or as one half of psych-noise duo DOME, Sam Wall is our featured creative for this issue of AYLY. A second year Fine Art student at the Cardiff School of Art and Design, here he tells us about his uncensored influences, his delve into street art and why weird is good. AYLY #2
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I'LL NEVER BE GOOD AT ANYTHING! was my teenage years mantra, so I took
out my frustrations onto paper everyday. I didn't start getting serious about making artwork until I was about 16 or 17. The first thing I did that I was proud of was a drawing of a horse skull with all these lines inside. Looking back it was a terrible drawing but I as I persisted and experimented and discovered new artists my work began to get stranger. It became an obsession, like a little contest inside my head to see how far I could take that weirdness factor and see how people would react to it. Now my work is an uncertain and rough reflection of intrinsic visions, a middle perception between reality and a dream world. When I am creating work it’s a visceral and emotional experience. Since November last year I have been involved with the Modern Alchemists, who put on the Empty Walls Festival and help run The Abacus. My personal works are not over thought as much as my painted murals are. The fact that a mural will be seen by the passing public gets me thinking differently and there are certain ideas that I have to change to make it easier to accomplish- I have to think with brushes and spray cans instead of fine liner pens. I try to make my subject matter for walls accessible yet interesting, and not take months to complete.
When investigated further the expressions can begin to reflect where I am mentally at, showcasing a spectrum of insecurities, desires, struggles, surroundings, the lot. Figuring these out seems like an ongoing process. I am interested in subject matter that is purposefully ...not "right" so to speak. When I was young I used to watch a lot of David Firth cartoons and started seeking out other disturbing works as a morbid fascination. Eventually in the dark dwellings of the internet I hit the shore of the underground comix and print circulation, where I was exposed to the most uncompromisingly weird pieces of visual assault that is humanly imaginable which played a big role in my ever changing visual language. A few culprits to name are Nick Blinko, The Art of Skinner, Math-I and the many artists affiliated with the Marseille based collective Le Dernier Cri. I feel I owe a lot to them because looking at this kind of work gave me the confidence to not hold back and censor any of my thoughts or visions. AYLY #2
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DOME is the product of two friends with a mutual interest in playing abrasive, atmospheric sounds and then fusing them together to create unique textures. James [Wells] specializes in the soft, ambient spaced out sounds using samples, synths and pedal effects which usually work as the foundation for a track. I take archived or found audio and cut them up to make something new, throwing them into a mix of harsh feedback with samples and occasional vocals. We send the tracks back and forth until they sound acceptable to our taste... In a way I suppose, when I've been working on something visual for a long time it's good to have a break and play around with music and vice versa. But conceptually it's the same thing. That is to quench a thirst, to make myself not feel so worthless and to make people feel excited and liberated.
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Want to be our next featured creative? If you are under 25 and write, paint, draw, photograph or make music then please get in touch. Contact details can be found on the back of this zine. AYLY #2
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Editor profiles the grassroots creativity that has taken over the Welsh capital.
As one of the first fully multi-cultural cities in the UK, and with influence from its reclaimed Welsh heritage, Cardiff has for generations been a mosaic of ideas, religious expression, language, storytelling, and musical and artistic tradition.
However, a stroll around the core of today’s city reveals little of the vibrant personality of its 345,000 or so inhabitants; like most urban centres the plethora of highstreet stores, coffee shop chains and ‘The Mall’ takes attention away from anything of cultural value found lurking in our arcades or quiet side streets. The Abacus, a collaborative venture between arts collective the Modern Alchemists and Promo Cymru, is one of many new projects that is beginning to drastically alter this mundane picture. AYLY #2
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Based in the disused Cardiff Bus ticket office directly opposite Central Station, the transformed property hosts a gallery, project and workshop space and artist studios. Since its June 2014 opening, the venue is fast becoming the hub of the grassroots creative community of Cardiff and is offering the public unadulterated access to a heady mix of underground art, music, film and spoken word that literally spills out onto the streets.
Self-dubbed as “a space for artists, thinkers, musicians, and other creatively blooded people to explore, practice and develop their ideas�, The Abacus is the pulsing heart of a city whose artistic touch paper has been set alight, and were the drivers of The Empty Walls street art festival; an artist-led celebration of contemporary muralism and interventions of the urban environment. The project brought colour, culture and vibrancy to the city of Cardiff by creating an outdoor gallery of public murals created by some of the most talented and well respected artists in the scene. This month long festival ran throughout Autumn 2014 and illuminated the imagination of the city with work from over twenty local and international artists. For more photographs and information about Empty Walls visit www.emptywalls.co.uk Images courtesy of Promo Cymru. AYLY #2
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PHOTOGRAPHY
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STYLIST
DESIGNER
POETRY
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ii. Calliope She screams, flying through the trees screeching to a halt. to pick words up to race with a scroll In her mouth. First and most respectable of all Muses. She was the Muse of Epic Poetry and Eloquence.
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v. Melpomene Black paint glazed over these glass windows long ago. The muse of tragedy.
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vi. Erato Swirl and twist and rip the roof off of my home. Scream and shout at 1am making a mess of the place. Tear my life apart Turn my world around, Hurricane You. The muse of love poetry.
Jacket: Stylist’s own Trousers:
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one prenatal morning in maypril whilst hanging out across over some tracks the Spring sun dripping with all sorts of thrushes and stuff in the branches i went gawping at the rhododendrons down in gullies imagining goats here where country rockpools might get dammed take down your shawl cast off your wearies a deity is playing three notes repetitively overhead watermelon gum will remind me of the end of a sort of skeleton slum year a friend in need's a friend o send me back to Hopton Hill & tell me who killed Slightly Dead if bracken is a sword in me
POETRY
FRACK
your groundcrack brutality is two lips to my head here's a flask and here's your shoots and here's your pot of bootlike earth and now i pour in liquid droops which moan to foam like neutered surf to lap on rocky traethau weithau, dwi'm yn gallu saethu'n suth, mae'n eithaf trist i edrych fynu i weld y neidr yn ei nuth - i'm made to think a mithril myth is shimmering like white box static around frenetic hereticals, my elm will hate you
FR
ILLUSTRATION
A
C K
FRACK.
one evening in october so celestially unrepentant like seaspray sentences do you suppose the gunmen meant no serious harm? arm of Mik'maq warrior you are worthy of dramatization. the land of your tread has been trodden by the agents of Nation. tinderdry grass stem unbroken in the flat wind seen sharp under mescaline suns unwinding and casting orangepeel strips of light like Blakean blind eye open to cat patterns while back in my room writing poems i click for the wiki find the word uranium contaminating your first paragraph call me picky AYLY #2
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RACK
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but i think of strawberrpicking as a kid and yeah i went there, i dare you not to relate to the plastic basket, these plants are tall these rows obscure the fence of your field and the fence of the field will fall years after the reds have withered and we all begin regretting our hosepipes one incendiary dusk which struck haplessly in the middle of Decembuary's hush with such tactfully blushed half-intimations of which skins would touch in the future (kid, don't forget Deuteronomy - - six five, and what is one?), while the thundering chests of everyone drunk go baddadum baddadum dum badda dum, over where nobody's looking right now by the mound most maudlin, by the stream which seems chandelier clear over here where the crooked crowd found coasts cold in the winters and teemed into town, four beers down, one bottle of milk i won't tell you where, over there where it's finally beautiful! over there where it's not yet gone this way! over there where chaos is just a Chimera and a fairground tent never fluttered, cut my cheek with a grassblade stamp my forehead inky convince me, sputtering sounds predict leaks in the gas glades horsehead Stravinsky soundtrack nitroglycerin Kentucky you've got to be kidding me
F
R A C
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A
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FRACK
your moral conscience has not been constructed in symmetry
F
R
FRACK
a pond with a kid goat bleating chemical godsent, a dead dry farm
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“My friend Nicole once said that there are so many contradictions in receiving advice – so much conflicting information – which ironically is advice in itself. Receiving too much advice is a 'thing'. You need to find out what works for you, and that can only really be achieved through experience – so make use of the safe' environment at uni by engaging with as much as you can outside, after ticking all the boxes inside.”
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On the Berlin Wall over Breshnev and Honecker kissing, in alley cat blood cursive scrawl someone has written Faggots.
Robert, who surfed his own couch, gave us his bed kept us like pet Brits, Robert, pilgrimaged to Macclesfield to plant a rose on Ian Curtis grave, doesn't smoke, even though it's so cheap here, danced for four hours straight in a club where you pay a deposit on glass bottles, Robert, who is so nice I hate myself for being bored by him, Robert who plants flowers in the cracked asphalt, Robert drinks tall beers at breakfast and irons his clothes and stinks of church.
On the Berlin Wall, someone has written Faggots. In the most expensive clubs, men fuck each other in rooms that aren't that dark yet, And no-one minds. The stones say “Berlin is Poor but Sexy.”
The stones say; Fuck tourists, Go Home Hipsters, Laugh at yuppies. Some say “love is the answer.” This one says Faggots Beer is cheap and cigarettes are cheap and beds are cheap and Turkish food is cheap and the metro is cheap and sometimes it's easy to confuse people looking detached with people who know something and cynicism will kill us all but we won't care and Vivian Westwood T shirts are cheap and bands are cheap and the squats sell their own merchandise and I read a magazine article about how Berlin is becoming gentrified and I'm not sure what that means but I take you to look around some boutiques and we feel pretty on the pulse. And the wall says Faggots And everyone I know under the age of thirty five defines themselves by what they hate, except Robert, who plants flowers in the cracks in the asphalt. AYLY #2
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The watchful robin, questing perched on the barrows edge smelled something good and juicy from his perch there in the hedge
swooping over to investigate what did the robin see? 'twas a mess of freshly churned up earth dug by my girl and me and poking out its little head was a worm wet pick and fat we saw the robin hop on over and gobble it quick as that as we pile up our potato bed two or three more birds arrive and the worms are digging frantically in a bid to stay alive
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“My sources of inspiration...? The usual, I think – I talk to people, discuss ideas, view other work, listen to music. I don't feel there's a huge difference between inspiration and motivation – so whatever gets me moving, even if that's just a cup of coffee. ”
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Cities contradict themselves. They present opposing powers in a very fragile state of balance. Some cities go in and out of balance, others are in a constant state of turmoil, with various factors determining and affecting their actualities. I see these qualities through the eyes of architecture and inevitably explore myself in parallel every time.
Borders & Transitions
Whether you are a permanent resident, or just a visitor, one thing is clear when you approach a city; there is no decisive moment to define your entrance to it. An entrance is such a precise image, shaped through generations, and embedded in our cognitive understanding. And a border immediately brings to mind a line, something to cross, something definitive. Both words carry a heavy history and they coexist in our cities in a transient, sometimes ephemeral manner. Approaching the city, the built environment becomes more frequent, then constant, but there is no arch or gate you pass through like there used to be. In an increasingly globalised world, borders are being continually demolished.
Public & Private
In the city, the notion of public and private has been tipped on its head. The street becomes the home for the homeless. Bars and cafes are planted on rooftops, their access ploughing through people's dwellings. Windows look out onto streets, and passersby look into homes. Workplace and personal space merge and blur their borders with no tangible threshold. Ownership and property become undefined grey areas we try to negotiate. AYLY #2
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Proximity & Loneliness The fast pace of our lives and our increased dependability on technology is isolating us from our surroundings. We get wrapped up in our routines. But how can big cities be filled with lonely people when there are so many of us? With such literal proximity in our daily lives, our paths intersecting simultaneously and continually, it makes you wonder what keeps us so apart.
Perspective An obsession with purity, clarity, and coherence prevailed with the dawn of industrialization. It demanded that we strive for a pristine lifestyle that, quite frankly, has exhausted us. Although this industrialized view has qualities worthy of acknowledgment and promotion, no one can erase life's messiness, and trying too hard to keep everything sterile makes us more vulnerable, less resilient. This is why current architectural theory condemns the modernist approach where cities were laid out on an empty plane, with vast parks and houses rising into the clouds. The relationship with the street is what we return to, the transition from quiet to noisy and light to dark and public to private, and all those moments in-between. That's where life is, and that's where everyone responsible of shaping cities should be looking.
Sometimes, a city's density makes its way into my brain and deep into my psyche. It's like having pressed my face up against a glass window. I can't really see anything outside, nor can I breathe. But the city is out there, it lives and it breathes. The truth is we can even fall in love with ugly cities, cities with terrible life standards, bad weather and not enough greenery. Santiago Cirugeda asks us 'but who doesn't have an ugly friend?'
Density is an opposing idea to clarity and freedom of space. The beauty of density, and the reason why it’s so important for cities, is its layers. It is a palimpsest, because the city doesn't shed the impact we have on it. It gathers, and accumulates, and never forgets. The city is there for everyone, it belongs to all of us. Living in cities, my morality is challenged daily, and frustration is not an uncommon feeling. I daily come face to face with all the negative phenomena of our days – so called luxuries, hypocrisy, corruption, injustice, apathy, impersonality, desensitization, nature's destruction. But somehow, I still believe in the city, and keep faith. Because only a city's dense fabric can produce the rich, complex and diverse ideas that will help positively define our time.
ARTWORK
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get in touch to get involved - areyoulostyet.com
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POETRY
The womb from which we come from. Wedged between commuters in the tube. Trying to cross a highway. Queen Street during sales. at the synchronized movement of youth. Trash, mountains of it.
Warm. A cloudy day. Hot.
ILLUSTRATION
Being underwater. The arena of a stadium during a concert. My room during exams. A nightclub throbbing with life, vibrating A massive protest outside the council. I asphyxiate.
Cut to blackness. Silence. I hear people. I open my eyes. I'm immersed in honey and I'm trying to move. I move slowly. Very Slowly. I'm a jar on a shelf, on a shop window, and I see the city's life rushing by. Cars, people, teenagers, couples, strollers. You see me, stuck. Walk away. Take your time, take your time to take it all in.
Go be a spirit amongst the soulless.
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The way she lies on that side of the bed— curling into corners of the world The way she giggles when she’s falling down— hiding shame beneath an easy smile The way she brushes life out of her way— Rather: the way she sweeps her hair out of her face. How is it that her short and simple name Weighs down on me just like a winter coat? too hot too close too dense. Still; I know without her I would quickly freeze.
POETRY
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POETRY
ILLUSTRATION
Your hand is suspended above the door handle. You check the time, check the date, check for your mobile, keys, money, shoes. Check you haven’t got your shirt on wrong or half tucked in your pants from when you went to the toilet. Check your laces are tied and that your feet aren’t dragging discarded tissue paper. Check your belt, your zip. Check your reflection. Check your reflection. The o l d c l o c k t i c k s audibly in the hallway. You continue to stare, ready to go, to step out of the door but there is tomorrow, or the next day. You don’t need to do it today. AYLY #2
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In your mind you image the bus, passing your stop as you get to it. Alone now in the hallway, the pairs of eyes, all of them that you have no control over, bore through you. The sounds of car horns, traffic fumes and angry mothers shielded behind prams come to you as you stand with your hand above the latch, still, in the hallway. In the night you are paralysed. You rub your cold feet between the covers and the mattress as if to light a spark, a fire to burn down the numbness that has crept in. Your eyes dampen and you’re shouting
FUCK FUCK FUCK
fuck but the sound doesn’t get past your temples to your mouth but just stays there, building up like waves slowly slamming repeatedly against the same concrete walls of a hollow room. You draw your legs up towards yours chest and cross your arms in front of you. Then rock your head so as to even out the pressure in your temples. You belong to a generation of motivational power words that don’t match against your reality. The world is your oyster chase your dreams break down the walls.
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“I try telling stories, (...) Imagine it as a bondage session with your partner - one is bound, and you have an idea of what is going to happen, but it is not until those initial touches of skin on skin happen that the thing starts to take shape. Pleasure ensues.� AYLY #2
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RE: What I Wrote About the Passage of Time Time is an interesting concept really, you can breathe life into it or wait to wither. I like aged whiskey and marinated food. Quality over quantity. Understanding, compliments, complements, compromise, marrying. Emotions. Or you can just hang it, lifeless, dry, repetitive and trapped by the illusion of living. Eternal. Time becomes Prostitution. Time is not money it’s more than that, it’ll make you happier than a fortune in return for some love. There’s so much to love about: the rough edges, texture, the complexity, tempo. She’s a little bipolar, she can be nice on a warm saturday, quiet on other days and she'll walk away from you without a single days notice, uncompromising, meek. She'll make you suffer, fear and choke. Don’t let it move you, have values, and she'll love you back. When I’m on a date, she gets jealous. A disappointing end. Whilst a Lack of sexuality causes delay, as if time laughs at you. It’s a blend of subjectivity and objectivity. Time is but an asymmetry in this ‘ongoing march in entropy' or it can be flat, and boring.
WRITING
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ILLUSTRATION
It’s up to you really, it really is. 34
Push the bone dry, heavy head with the triumphant thumbprint, And circle the eclipsed section of the brain, That 05:00am abnormality That’s the reason you’re here today. Grating on your head and your heart, Ground down gums and tongue, The erratic butterfly mind flits in and out Of the Tonic Clonic lack of consciousness – Aftershock Vomit.
The ebbing remnants Of the Epileptic trip Slip away as the injected drip Sits in your skin; Grand mal Stage Two equates to One disrupted sleep, Hand to cheek, And the forehead wave From the sick-bay seat; EEG readings become Revealing with Crude flash testing As brain waves strain and – “What’s happened now?” You ask, and she answers, eyes smiling Painfully, “You’ve had another one.” Draw back the dignity drapes and dis-curtain to reveal The racked body lying depleted – But the needlepoint hand Held firmly by Her, Simply tightens its grip right back.
POETRY
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contributors Josh Pritchard is a gardening poet currently residing at coed hills rural artspace, where he grows veg, builds land art and occasionally writes a poem. Facebook search 'the cosmic bossman' for more info.
Illustration student from North Devon, studying at the Cardiff School of Art & Design. Jake likes to use a mix of fine liners, pencils, watercolour and digital. A great deal of his work is inspired by films, and he likes creating zines, posters, portraits and many other things in response to the film. Jake tried to be different with every project he is given as he creates his best work through experimentation.
Nicodemus Reuben likes to make things. He’s not very good at making things out of wood. Or bricks. Or metal. Or wires. So he makes things out of words. You can follow him on Facebook at /nicodemuspoet for more words and info about live shows.
A student engineer with a passion for art, technology and cycling. Sean made our lovely website and actually enjoys coding from scratch. Hates coffe though.
Kate is 17, from Cardiff and plans to run away with the circus. She prefers animals Sophie Holbeche is an illustration student at Cardiff School of Art and Design. She to people but loves the creative minds she sees in this zine. Kate doesn't have enjoys creating fun, engaging pieces of work that look at interesting moments. Sophie’s a certain writing 'style' as so much as she puts what's on her mind onto the page. work focuses on capturing people, emotions, journeys and landscapes. She of my aims is to do more magazine and editorial illustration work and also do more work with the Cardiff University Anatomy Centre.
Kathryn Lewis is a newly graduated fashion designer whose experimental work brings sustainable design to a main-stream fashion audience. The refined attention to detail and thought provoking narrative give her collections both ingenuity and great longevity.
Sam Wall is a second year Fine Art student at the Cardiff School of Art and Design. He makes pictures of diabolical beings under the name of Ekstraternek, and odd, abrasive noises under the name of DOME.
Melissa Edmunds is from Cardiff and is currently studying English and Creative Writing at Warwick University, and likes to look for people in poetry. She wants to develop poetry, prose and scripts that tackle human rights issues.
A Welsh born student, now studying Law in Spain, Tudor Etchells enjoys capturing the harsh realities of life, whilst attempting to see through to the beauty that even the most woeful situations inhabit.
Though a proud Cardiffian, Maddy’s roots lie in the Bohemian lands of the Czech Republic. A great love for folk identity, culture and art, she is studying History and Sociology in the University of Edinburgh. Also an erratic experimentalist and food enthusiast, Maddy is currently trying to master the art of Chinese dim sum.
Trina is a carnivorous vegetarian who studies marine biology. She likes writing songs, stories, poems, articles, taking pictures and making films about bees who turn people into yoghurt. Her spirit animal is the sea gull.
Molly’s main influences are old childrens annuals from the early 20th century, and her favourite illustrator is Beatrix Potter. She likes drawing everything from people to puddles, and currently has a bit of an obsession with drawing her room at the moment. Molly hasn’t much time for hobbies at the moment, but if she did she would play piano and go rock climbing. And she likes making dens. Molly is a cat person. But not a cat lady...
ekstraternek.tumblr.com
Zaru Jonson has been gaining recognition as a performance poet since 2009, with his recent involvement in Literature Wales' tribute to Dylan Thomas, Dylan Live, taking him as far as the PEN International Literature Festival in New York City. Increasingly writing over sample-based instrumentals, Zaru's work fuses a heavy Beat Generation influence with the mutated rhymeschemes and rhythms of underground hip-hop. soundcloud.com/foolinorbitzoobatwork
areyoulostyet.com