WalkingBlind Art And Literature Magazine by WalkingBlind Magazine

Volume 1 number 1

August 2010

Cover art by Anton Semenov

Inside Extreme verse: The poetry of Junia Pholprasert “My flesh is weeping pale tears another basin of cherry beeds blossom.” More on page -

Premiere Issue -

WalkingBlind is the new cutting edge journal for the Art and Literary community. A fresh new vision on the culture of and creativity of the human race!

Interviews: The dark world of Gloom “I’m not trying to ‘tell’, but rather ‘remind’ people with my art that all emotions caused by art are already there, already inside us.” Read the full article on page -

Required Reading: www.nevaehvision.com

Graphic Design “A lack of graphic design or designers would be catastrophic. Without convincing advertisement, companies would never be able to compete with one another for consumer supremacy.” More on page -

WalkingBlind Art and Literature Magazine Published by NevaehVision

Editor’s Letter

Kendra Gimblet - Executive Editor

alkingBlind Literature and Art Magazine is an online periodical that W shows an outward expression to an inward passion. It’s a periodical that capsules creations that daze its readers and critics. WalkingBlind describes the taking over of our bodies to art, when the tools of our craft are in hand everything else is blurred to the point of invisibility; we go blind. One of the purposes of WalkingBlind is to remove the blinders off of the world and show them the avant-garde of art.

WalkingBlind Issue 1 vol. 1 About the front cover. On our front cover is Weiss’s Secret by 37 year old Siberian resident Anton Semenov. When we witnessed the level of detail achieved by Anton we knew his images would hold a special place of honor in our premier issue. Check out this issues center section for more from Anton.

WalkingBlind Layout and Editorial Executive Editor- Kendra Gimblet Assitant Editor- Glen L. Puchlerz Graphics Director- Glen L. Puchlerz Business

WalkingBlind Art and Literature Magazine is publication of NevaehVision. For advertising or submision queries contact: kgimblet@nevaehvision.com www.nevaehvision.com

WalkingBlind exists to open up a cosmos of art yet unseen. This periodical will contain some of the most underground and alternative forms of expression, while occasionally shaking hands with its mainstream brethren. The uncovering of true artistry is the reason why WalkingBlind has emerged into the world of the living. Unlike other undertakings of the same genre this magazine is not here to present the new black of the art universe, but rather to unearth the ever evolving state of art and the freshness of creativity within the culture of its community. The passion to communicate the underestimated language in which artists speak was one of the strong gusts of wind that delivered the metaphorical stork to our minds; with baby WalkingBlind in its basket. You all are the first of what we believe will be many who will come to enjoy the treasure trove of art and the artists that labored them into being. WalkingBlind was birthed in order to spotlight the world’s oldest form of expression, and that is art. Everyone seems to have forgotten that literature and illustration were once one; they thrived together and survived thousands of years inside of one another. The offspring of this union educated the commoner and empowered the lonely street artist. The catalyst that defined ancient communication was art. Now, that has all but died, leaving behind much weaker segregated districts of its once whole self. WalkingBlind will concentrate on and bring together that communication through the reunification of these forms face to face in one place. You are invited to take part in this marriage of an eclectic consommé, and explore the focal point of its passion. The scope and mission of this magazine is to effectively illuminate the realm of underground art by loosing the blindfold from the eyes of mainstream culture. WalkingBlind pursues original artistic styles acknowledging that every artist’s vision is individually unique. Our intent is also to convey how strong the chain that holds the art community together really is. We endeavor to inspire those already practicing their craft to excellence and motive aspiring artists to grow. Pushing the boundaries of free artistic expression beyond the apex of ordinary sight. It is our sincere vision to unwrap the art of the underground artist. The magazine will strive to bring the best art related materials to our viewers, and saturate the world with our pens and brushes. Our vision for the future is to one day soon become a widely circulated ultra exposed online magazine. We wish to donate to the professional and amateur art community as well as become the global go to gallery for emerging art.

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Features August 2010 Volume 1 Number 1

Digital Art 5913 20 -

Lois Van Baarle Fransico Perez Anton Semenov Guangjian Huang

31 37 43 -

Chelsea Green Lewyta Berk Ozturk Mark Magnaye

53 54 55 56 62 -

Anton Frost Gunjan Shane Cotier Junia Pholprasert Kendra Gimblet

66 70 75 79 -

Gabe Farnsworth Pansa Sunavee Denis Grzetic Dr. Lee Hunter

85 87 89 -

Photography Intro Graphic Design Coherence

93 -

Sion Darkness

Traditional Art

Poetry & Prose

Photography

Articles

Enterainment Departments WalkingBlind Art and literature Magazine is a publication of the nevaehvision co. Content is protected under U.S. and International copyright laws. Any duplication without the express written authorization of Walkingblind Magazine and itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s subsidiaries is strictly prohibited. Artistist creative works and/or intellectual properties are under license to WalkingBlind Magazine and remain the sole properties of the artists. For further information contact WalkingBlind Art and Literature Magazine at: http//www.nevaehvision.com or email info@nevaehvision.com. WalkingBlind Art and Literature Magazine is a monthly publication with offices in Florida and Massachusetts CopyrightÂŠNevaehvision.com, 2010. All rights Reserved.

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the age of political correctness I feel obligated to explain the name of the magazine in a clearer way in order for all of our readers and critics to know what the name: 'WalkingBlind' means, and how it came to be. This name was not a last minute epiphany or a crackle and pop of the brain that graced my lips when pondering the defining word of a future magazine. It is in no way ment to be offensive to any person, or organization of any kind and was created for the purpose of art and art alone. The word 'Walkingblind' was assembled by me four years ago as a unique username in various other artistic sites that would allow me to upload my creative writings. Along the way it has been modified slightly to include hyphens and numbers to accomadate those sites, but the meaning that has always been attached to it has remained true. Strung together by a lonely writer abandoned to the narrow confinments of college rule paper, this lover of verse mulled over the broken alphabet as if to brew a pot of stone soup. This person wanted a name that had power behind it, a strong catalyst that would propell a fire for art forward. This name had to represent the feeling of being possessed by the gift of artistic expression in such a way that everything else seemed all but meaningless in the artist's sight, thus it was born.

Digital Art Next Right

WalkingBlind Literature and Art Magazine is an online periodical that shows an outward expression to an inward passion. It describes the taking over of our bodies to art, when the tools of our craft are in hand everything else is blurred to the point of invisibility; we go blind to all but creativity.

Whats In a Name

Loish.Net

Walkingblind Magazine

Lois Van Baarle

pin the globe, place a finger on Western Europe bordering the North Sea, look somewhere between Belgium and Germany amidst flowing bouquets of colored ribbons

and playful koi fish dancing on air and you will find Lois Van Baarle hard at work enjoying what she loves to do best, draw. Creating from a well drenched in pure imagination and usually without reference she spends most of her time perfecting her art. Putting emphasis on flow and expression her art work stands in a class of its own. The vibrant pallet from which she chooses to mix stands out as a huge facet of her very personal style. Her images grab ones mind playfully, delicately, but always powerfully, motivating the viewer to feel eliciting all manner of thought and emotion and all directly related to her masterful use of color. An active member of the art community Lois is a dynamic force, ever evolving, growing in vision and style. From childhood to adult life her mission has been to draw, to create, to bring to life characters and places that exist nowhere else but in her minds eye. Currently residing in the Netherlands Lois is quite accomplished, with her portfolio reflecting many moods and seasons of artistic prose and vision. The variety and vibrancy of her work speaks for itself but sometimes we like to hear from the artists themselves to gain insight beyond the surface so let me introduce you to Lois and the world she creates.

Lois Van Baarle is currently a freelance illustrator/animator performing work ranging from illustrations to concept art, character designs and animations working almost always digital. Her drawing skills are self-taught, at 18 she decided to study animation which she did for five years, one year in Belgium and four in Utrecht, the Netherlands. At the Utrecht School of the Arts Lois obtained a European Media Master in Arts and won the HKU award for the most innovative graduation project, an animation entitled Trichrome Blue. photo by McKlin

I was enormously in awe of Art Nouveau At a young age I was influenced by commercial animation and comic styles, particularly Disney films and the work of French comic artists such as Aurore BlackCat. I was also enormously in awe of Art Nouveau, particularly the work of Alfonse Mucha, and over time tried to fuse the two in my own work, making decorative, feminine pieces with a cartoony touch. As I studied animation I became influenced by Triplettes de Belleville and other French animation films with a slightly darker touch. I'm still developing my 'artistic vision,' exploring different directions to go and how to do this best.

Mermaid by Loish

Because I studied animation but also illustrate a lot, I have different approaches to my work which have yet to form a coherent whole in my opinion. Hugely important to me is the use of color in my work, which I feel has the strongest emotive power and motivates me enormously - specifically in my personal animation project, Trichrome, which is supposed to form a trilogy of animations in which each one deals with a separate color and the emotions they bring.

Walkingblind Magazine Glow by Loish

LOISH I'm doing a constant mix of personal work - illustrations as well as animation - and building up freelance experience. Over the years I've developed a huge fondness for Photoshop and using a "digital painting" technique for my work.

Crimson Petals by Loish. “I wanted to try out some new colors”

Koi Pond, initially this was a speed sketch, but I ended picking up at it a few hours a day to relax

Born in Holland I have Dutch nationality, however I've lived all over the world, including the United States, Indonesia, France and Belgium. Drawing since the day I could hold a pencil it had always been a hobby to me until I decided to study pursue art as a career. Some people ask me how I developed my own style. It wasn’t really a conscious decision I made, nor do I have any specific methods for doing this. I suppose developing your own style has to do with drawing a lot. The more you draw your work evolves and you start to find the ways which suit you best. I'm very active on the DeviantArt community: loish.deviantart.com and have been featured there numerous times with the 'daily deviation feature.' My animation is posted to Vimeo (vimeo.com/loish) and of course my own main website loish.net

A girl and her pet, I found this boring so I did what any resonable person would do; I added an Octopus!

Submerged, Arandom concept doodle, I like it in terms of atmosohere.

Paco AGE: 27 OCCUPATION: Freelance Illustrator ARTISTIC STYLE: Smokin! LOCATION: Miami, FL

Digital Artist

Fransico Perez

WEBSITE: www.pac23.com

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Killa Penguin by Paco

With all the vitality of the theme song to Donkey Kong Francisco Perez presents himself as Pac, an in your face type of digital artist with the Dunny Collection and pop to prove it. If you’ve contemplated his work you will agree when I call it bold, I feel there should be some wild ‘Tada!” or cartoon-ish “Bang!” that comes along with his art. For example take Pac’s ‘Panda With Gun’ it is both stunning and slightly frightening when all you hear in the back of your head is Aerosmith’s “Jane’s Got A Gun”. The way he has the bamboo twig sticking out of his mouth and the panda’s grip on the already smoking gun along with Pac’s attention to detail makes this a hard core piece of art, lets not forget the panda’s glowing eyes practically begging you to try him. If I may continue I would like to lasso ‘Panda Tattoos’ and ‘Bear 2’ forward so that I can speak clearly of their greatness. At first glance I had quickly tilted

my head to avoid being grabbed and snatched into the screen by these outrageous characters, and with their arms spread out infront of them as if to tap on the flat panel of my LCD who could blame me. The excitement that runs through a person’s veins when observing them can be compared to hooking oneself up to a bungee cord and jumping from a bridge, that feeling of cold adrenaline seeping into the extremities is what I experienced. What is that? I’m going a bit overboard with my analogies am I? If your asking me that then you haven’t noticed the facial expressions of his created creatures which are enough to give a brown bear a nose bleed. When explaining why we needed Pac’s work in the magazine to my team I entertained them by assuming the poses depicted in his art to win them over. Other than making

myself look ridiculous I noticed how actionpacked his work really is; it makes you grin from ear to ear and wish you could borrow their surplus gusto for the rest of your life. The art moves in animated form between the boundaries of our imagination displaying a fierce attitude and voice of their own. Among them I can envision the crazed ‘Killa Penguin’ running rapid waving

Panda with Gun by Paco

Panda Tattoos by Paco

his trusty dagger. From the looks of him I can tell he hasn’t been in his natural habitat for a long time judging from the harsh glint on the blade and glow on his leathery skin. The eyes are my favorite part of this piece, they bulge and appear to be causing the wrinkles directly below and the tiny specks called pupils are opposite of one another resembling an insane drunkard; he looks as if he will can go off on you just for sneezing. If you were to make this image bigger you would see the healed over scar on the eyelid, the nicks on his aging yellow beak, and the penguin’s five o’clock shadow all proof of Pac’s ability to make the little details tell a story. Another thing that makes this artist unique is his influences, one of which is Miami, Fl. Having vacationed to that part of the world a couple of times I can say from experience that Miami has dominated its slice of land. As soon as you cross over into the city you know something has changed, it’s like they release freedom into the air and paint their houses with heat. Everything is constantly being passed right under your nose, and your eyes take in so many things at once that they’d like

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to pop out of your head. Pac’s art has adopted this feeling of dramatic urgency and transforms our minds into a virtual playing field for his creatures to frolic. In short it’s a thrill the senses simply can’t take all at once or your brain might spasm from prolonged exposure. If you don’t believe me stare at ‘Wax 1’ for awhile, at first it seems mildly simplistic and humorous, you might crack a smile at the doomed character while overlooking the awesome aspects of this piece. Take a closer look at it and you will see that the fishbowl our little friend is in is sweating bullets which go extremely well with the bold exclamation mark and his slightly tilted head; you can’t help but think about what this trapped guy is wondering in such a small smothering confinement. Why didn’t I pick another outwardly

shocking piece you ask? It’s because Pac has done something really important and slightly sneaky here. Though the tanked being isn’t as vigorous as the rest of his brethren he is performing an action, he’s thinking. You know an artist has the ability to keep growing in the business of his choosing when he can make internal thinking appear to take on an outward action without so much as drawing a raised hand. Here we have an example of that as Pac’s creation stands in a small bowl of water dressed in a bright green and yellow diving suit with a cowboy belt around his waist and a weird sombrero looking hat. How much more activity do you want in a piece of art? Francisco Perez has been a blast to write about not only because of his fun drawings, but due to the quality of work he produces and his unique style which I have been writing about the whole time. He is sure to keep on rising to the top of the art world as his digital illustrations become high demand for their originality and strength. I’m sure you haven’t gotten enough of this artist so please visit him on the web at the sites we included above, or buy his awesome work at. http://pacman23.gutterspaced.com

Wax by Paco

Bear2 by Paco

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ANToN

SeMeNo

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Guangjian Huang

Our next artist is one of astronomical proportions his work is so powerful in elegance and strength that it can floor entire mountains and throw the planet off balance. With an artist of such talent in our mist you cannot simply jump into his work, but ease into it with all the graceful poise of a ballet dancer, and the shrewdness of a master thief. I am not playing favorites, but something I learned early on with

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Guangjian Huang’s artistry is like an enchanted oasis this digital artist is to never finalize what his art means or appears to be saying, like a drying slab of concrete it may look a certain way one minute and a totally different material in the next. In order to help you not to make the same mistake I did I want you to think on one word. {Beauty} What exactly does this word mean? Can it be defined within the blasphemous structure of a man’s category obsessed mind, forever banished to wonder without the power of its full definition to back it up? Is something only beautiful when it gives you pleasure or deep satisfaction whether it arises from sensory manifestations or meaningful design? I ask this due to the fact that this artist’s work has a strange beauty to it, an alchemic allure that dawns the soul like fitted clothing and refreshes the deserts of imagination by providing our mind’s eye with constant visual sequences of rough elegance. Guangjian Huang’s artistry is like an enchanted oasis with purple-gold trees sprouting through red soil to worship the sky hanging low with onyx clouds next to a watering hole in which you can view his work and drink it deeply. This extremely adept artist says “I like the visions which are full of visual impact and magic charm. I want to show these fantastic stories through my works.” We get to see that impact in ‘Angels and Demons’ a favorite of mine and the artist himself it’s like we’ve come to admire a black hole, an as we stare into the swirling brilliance of the celestial body it steals our eyes. If you are an honest person lets embark on a slight experiment of candour, look upon the first piece of art for two seconds and when you are done close your eyes tightly and bring it back up into your mind; the smooth marbled face of the man surrounded by ultimate manners of power, the slightly awkward colors spread across the piece, the range of textures from soft to jagged. Now open

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them once more and take in the entirety of this work of art, let yourself become engulfed by the enormity of this piece’s purpose by picking out small aspects and facts discovered within it. When observing it intimately you can witness each detail, each small dot under the eye, every strand of hair, and freckle of light. When looking at it this way we can see that the complex color creates a thin aura of confusion around the man, lock-

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ing him into a battle with himself and the other worldly beings who want him. You can see their want through the way the garments of those beings caress him, both are cold even the sun splashed silver armor resting loosely on his shoulder as the blade of the upper piece makes camp against his neck. I admire how the shadows play with his Adamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s apple while the helm of darkness slowly encroaches upon the characterâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s innocent face and chest at the hollow of his throat. Take a look at how the snakelike tentacles swim among the white hair strands in the oceanic background of the image, it almost gives you a feeling of hopeless drowning and brings light to why his face is so stoic. After seeing all of this a slight tinge of sorrow may nip at your heart, and the reason for that is because this man represents us. Think deeply about how it is to live in the world and how innocent you were coming into this life ready to take it on with a candy bar and a water pistol. Now look at yourself and your problems, examine the dark helm that waits patiently to incase your face and the situations that seem like a cold

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light ready to devour you, gather up all of this knowledge and look at yourself in the eye. The true beauty in Huang’s work comes from his natural ability to make us look ourselves in the face and never know it. Seeing this makes it hard for me to believe that this talented man at one time majored in business, I had to ask him about the decision and he said this: ‘I liked drawing very much when I was a little child, but I enrolled as a financial university major in accounting compliance with the wishes of my parents. When I graduated in 2005, I worked as an accountant for half a year. Then I turned to learn arts, because I found it's terrible to do the job which you don't like, now I can draw every day. I feel I'm one of the luckiest people in the world.’ I can’t imagine what the world would have missed out on if he had not followed his dream and stayed an accountant, it goes to show that dreams weigh more than money. So as you enjoy Huang’s art remember that it almost didn’t exist.

Want to see your artwork here?

Send us a sample and a description of the type of art youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re involved in. We are always on the lookout for talented artists!

Send samples and Submission inquiries to: kgimblet@nevaehvision.com

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Traditional Art

ew details seperate my work from my life and from myself. I view it all as a great schism between the beautiful and the macabre. Chelsea Greene Lewyta was born 1987 and raised in the Hudson River Valley of New York mostly in the small town of Cornwall. Since she was little she loved to create, pretend, explore, and be surrounded by nature. In her adolescence she started using artwork as an escape and means of expressing herself. Her high school art program was very supportive and cultivated her mind. It was there that she realized she wanted to do something with her talent and passion. Chelsea attended the Pratt Institute and received early acceptance, with a partial academic scholarship. It was a very constructive environment. Chelsea got involved in the school comic, Static Fish, where her work was first published. Some of Chelsea’s other favorite artists include Marlane Dumas, Hans Bellmer, Louise Bourgeois, Julie Heffernan, Fuyuko Matsui, Takato Yamamoto, Arthur Rackham, Jessie Wilcox Smith, Beatrix Potter, Egon Schiele, Alphonse Mucha, Édouard Manet, and William Adolphe Bouguereau.. Chelsea discovered her favorite artist, Kiki Smith, on a gallery trip with her Illustration class to the Whitney. She describes Smith’s work as changing her life, the emotional impact on Chelsea was profound.

Chelsea

A freelance

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Greene Lewyta

e illustrator living in New York City U.S.A

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A selection of Chelseaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s art exhibiting lighter themes. This body of work is aesthetically driven. These images are geared towards childrens illustration and were created for publication.

An owl a

Besides these specific artists, Chelsea has been greatly inspired by woodblock prints from the far east. Eastern cultures have always been an interest for her. Growing up with an adopted Korean sister she was exposed to an exotic culture and encouraged to learn more. Her family and her life have been an inspiration for her work, but mostly her work depicts her perspective on emotionally involved subjects. Chelsea describes her work as an extension of herself, a great schism between the beautiful and

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by Che

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the macabre. Her work started out from a sort of feminist perspective, dealing with the themes of weight and beauty, the male gaze, race and sexuality and interpersonal struggles. From there she extended her empathy to more of a humanist standpoint, relating to pain not by reason but experience. Some of the themes she has taken an interest in since, are coming of age, obsession of youth, and interior/exterior spaces and figures. In October 2008 she was published in her first major Newspaper,

The background image “Pond” comes from a selection of Chelsea’s art exhibiting stronger themes. This body of work is heavily content driven and were created for the purpose of published illustration and gallery exhibition.

Water D

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Bamboo Forest by Chelsea Greene Lewyta

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A work entitled ‘Fall’ by Chelsea Greene Lewyta

Born and raised in New York, Chelsea currently resides in Manhattan of the Illustration department. Chelsea began exhibiting her work internationally with a show in Sydney, Australia at The National Grid in Summer of 2008. The biggest motivating show for her was The Kids Are Alright curetted by Beau Basse, a group of emerging artists showing in a tour of five cities in 2009. Chelsea graduated Pratt in May of 2009. Since then she has worked on a variety of album covers, small projects, and is in the process of illustrating a children’s book. She has continued to show and recently a lot of her focus has gone into a new body of work executed in oil and other traditional media. 35

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the New York Observer. The same year, two of her pieces were featured in the Society of Illustratorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Student Show and one won the Greenwich Workshop Award. While at Pratt Chelsea also studied oil painting, silk screening, lithography, paper and book making where she was exposed to more fine art styles of teaching and process than the commercial drive

From her stronger content driven work a piece entitled Pond

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All I Have is Her by Berk OzTurk

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Berk Ozturk Close your eyes an open your senses to a world filthy with the varied detritus of the modern age. Hear the screech of nations crying out from inside their lowered cages and watch behind your eyelids as evil ambles unabashedly naked towards its next victim. Smell the fumes as they rise above the mountains to feast holes into a bleeding sky and feel the earth beneath you swollen with a still born harvest. Now open your eyes and behold the work of Berk Öztürk a twenty-three year old freelance traditional artist from Ýstanbul, Turkey. I did that very experiment and when I looked upon his work I saw hope, it is hard to believe that hope can be seen in a canvas that avoids being lit with bright skies and candy like colors such as some of our other wonderful artists, but it is true. In each piece of art featured throughout his article you can spot a symbol of freedom, whether it be the slightly open door that lets in a sliver of light in ‘All I Have Is Her’ or the obsessive desire for fish in ‘Loverman’. When asked about the artistic vision and motivation of his work Berk replied ‘In my paintings I always offer alternatives to the viewers, I usually cover a moment in life. I always leave a door open for probabilities. I say maybe there is a hope. Generally, the characters I draw are pessimistic, helpless, and desperate who cannot confess that despair. They are always searching for another road, or street, for another world. What I do is, give them the world that they want. It’s pleasant for me to create an opposite situation between the colors, textures and the subjects.’ The answer I got from him made me ponder on the millions of people stuck solid in the interim of life, with their minds captured in a chaotic whirlwind

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while they dig into the spiritual brick wall holding the answer to their struggle at bay. Berk’s illustrations latch onto the feeling all humans have right before the last metaphorical straw breaks the camel’s back. This artist steals that scene from life, manifests it in art form and creates light in unexpected places. He gives his characters a way out, an unlocked door at the end of the tunnel if you will, a choice between their day to day and a world unlike their own. ‘I prefer to show dark and sad incidents’ Berk says ‘out of pretty figures in my drawings. I deform and draw the things that I've experienced and or I've observed.I explain everything that I observe and realize in my life, out of adult figures that seem childish. I am trying to create a new story with a new beginning and unique ending, from the lonely pages of different stories.’ Berk’s phantasmagorical art is both gritty and awe inspiring, when observing his work the originality of his pieces stroke the artistic heart while providing a mental seat in which to rest. With such a wonderful array of talent the obvious question to ask next would be: “What influenced this? How did this come to be? What started his journey into the depths of visual art?” Thankfully we have asked just that and his answer like the last is truly informative ‘My interest in art started by the means of my aunt and her boyfriend. In those days they had been drawing in various children books and fashion magazines. I can say that the first people whom discovered my talents in art, were them. My mother and my primary school teacher understood my talents and encouraged me to keep on drawing persistently. I started to draw with every

Lover Man by Berk OzTurk

The Last Movie by Berk OzTurk

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The Last Dream by Berk ozTurk

pen and paper that I found. Because I was a child, I didn’t realize what and why I was drawing. Drawings that I created were only some expressional thoughts of a child which had helped me to improve technically for sure. Now, I am a senior student in art at Marmara University Faculty of Fine Arts. I am in the course that I've wanted. I've been drawing illustrations for three years and I know that I've devoted my life to it. The truth is, there were no major influences at the beginning. I was already influenced by the art itself. But when your style takes on its own characteristic shape, the things that influence you will still stand out. I can say that, French Cinema has an influence on me. Besides that, I admire Kunio Kato, Tim Burton, Mike Mignola, Jakup Dvorsky, The Triplets of Belleville, Machinarium, La Maison en Petits Cubes are the works that I’ve liked most in last years.’ As a blank canvas ready to receive the stroke of the artist’s brush OzTurk’s innate talent enables him to collect a myriad of techniques from the various artists he’s mentioned above. If you know Kunio Kato, Tim Burton, Mike Mignola, and Jakup Dvorsky’s work you’d be amazed with what Berk has learned from these pioneers in the arts. Gleaning a better sense of surreal imagery, textural depth, a subdued color pallet along with dark ambiance and mystery combined with his own special techniques OzTurk is a force to be reckoned with. With such people to impact the style and artistic ventures of our featured artist is there any doubt that he will be the next big thing in the world of traditional illustration. The alternative beauty of the work we are presented with more than satisfies our desire for future hope while still connecting with our ever present situations.

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Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision. -Salvador Dali

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Days To Remember by Berk OzTurk

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Striving to create art that compels and comforts

Throughout all of the digital and traditional features my team and I have strived to keep your blood boiling by using in your face pieces that could stop a heartbeat and melt a prehistoric iceberg in the matter of seconds. During our quest to incorporate artists that challenge the mind with complex philosophy and technique I began to wonder about the ending, usually people are accustomed to the ‘start hard finish hard’ mentality,

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but I wanted to give the audience something to rest on. In comes Mark Magnaye as Blok- Blok a young energetic artist whose warm color ranges and expressive characters create a sense of relaxed separation from this world. Mark Magnaye was born in a little town called Sapang Palay in the province of Bulacan in the Philippines on December 17, 1991. He is a third year student from the University of the Philippines taking

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up Visual Communication. He is also a recipient of Pitoy Moreno Scholarship grant and a consistent dean's lister. He loves snapping lovely photographs and eating home cooked spaghetti. It is amazing how art is like a language of its own, it speaks to us in many ways, whether it’s loud or eerily silent, Mark’s art tells us to stop rushing in life so that we may experience the good and bad to the full; the piece ‘Whale’

Whale by Mark Magnaye

Umbrella by Mark Magnaye

is a great example of this. In ‘Whale’ the little girl and her whale friend sit still on top of a rich green hill that seems to divide them from the world and pushes them toward a sky darkened with the colors of the setting sun. It has such a comforting haze to it yet the sadness of the misplaced whale is displayed in the way the whale’s eyes close and the posture of the girl. With the ability to make his audience feel such intertwining emotion I had to ask him about the origins of his wonderful work, the response I got wowed me: ‘I came from a family of artists. My grandfather was the one who helped me develop my foundations as an artist. His formal training with Fernando Amorsolo, a Phil. National artist, was passed into the family. There are also several artists who inspire me with their work and creativity like Beth Doctolero and Serj Bumatay III from the Philippines, Miguel Calatayud and Berk Oztürk. The colorful culture and tradition of my country is also a constant inspiration for me to

Walkingblind Magazine

Waiting by Mark Magnaye

produce great artworks. There are a couple of attention getters in what he wrote that probably didn’t send any red flags up for you so I’ll explain why those few sentences are so awesome. Fernando Amorsolo’s paintings and sketches are of rural Philippine landscapes which he displayed in perfection, his special technique of capturing specific lighting conditions in the Philippines and painting them on his canvas made him one of the most important artists in the history of painting in the Philippines. The privilege to learn from a great master of the arts and then pass it down to his family is the equivalent of the king of pop coming back from the dead and teaching a dancing class. Mark’s grandfather’s training and artistic maturity along with his famous teacher are partially responsible for helping shape Blok-Blok’s work into the unique art it is today. Another thing that stood out to me was one name ‘Berk Oztürk’ whom Mark seems to look up to as an artist; it is a freakishly rare coincidence that his own article is right after his idol’s art. This is

Walkingblind Magazine

Yoshimi the After Ballet by Mark Magnaye

something none of us saw coming, matter of fact Berk’s work and placement was complete weeks before Mark’s was. What I find more intriguing is the impact that Berk has had on the feelings seeping from the canvas of our featured artist; I am talking about hope ‘the unlocked door at the end of the tunnel if you will’. My last question was simply to inquire his reasoning for drawing and painting like he does, an artist can have the best training and others artists to look up to but one thing every successful artist has in common is passion; I asked

him about his. ‘Art was a big part of my childhood, more than entertainment, watching cartoons and anime was a learning experience. Back then, drawing and sketching was as much fun as playing with friends. When my teachers in school saw my talent, they encouraged me to participate in inter-school competitions. Joining in such art contests honed my skills and inspired me to polish my craft while having a great deal of fun. As an artist, it is a great joy to reach out through my artworks and connect to my audience even if they are thousands

of miles away. Whenever my creations are appreciated by people, it also drives me to strive more, learn and continue producing original and significant art while expressing myself and reflecting my life.’ To have had this artist among the pages of WalkingBlind has been a real treat, with his great use of color, quality of work, and his show of passion we wish him good luck as he continues to follow his dreams that reflect so much in his artwork.

Floating by Mark Magnaye

Walkingblind Magazine

Anton Frost is a 24 year old poet living in Grand Haven, Michigan. He says: I am a poet simply because I believe in poetry, same as I believe in the profound human capacities for contradiction, paradox, villainy and love. Good or bad in anyone's estimation, used or unrealized, our capabilities are simply there. Poetry is there, where I happen to find myself. So I write. Gunjan is a teenager taking the world by storm with her fresh verses and rational that will put any reader on the spot. Her poetic forms range from haikus to sonnets and lyrics taking on many shapes depending on her real life experiances. Though 15 she is already developing into a mature writer with each poem she completes.

Shane Alden Cotier

a 29 year-old earthhuman who was raised in a den of wild toasters, George Foreman Grills, and other kitchen appliances gone bad. His writing styles include (but are not limited to) "mostly ignored" & "completely ignored," as well as the ever popular "scrawled in crayon," and, of course, the classic "Shaolin Tiger Style."

Junia’s philosophical mind is best described as a deep cistern of alternative beauty. Upon discovering her poetry I found it to be capturing. Her verses envelopes its readers into a universe filled with mindnumbing reality and intoxicating word usage. Her style rivals the best works in publication today. Although she doesn’t call herself a writer her readers think differently.

The depth with which Mr. Frost writes will cause the reader to ponder their own intellect. Simply complex is how it appears before the populous disguised as a common entity, but as you start to read each stanza opens up another realm of reasoning. If intense poetry is your style Mr.Frost is here to accommodate your literary appetite.

Gunjan “I'm just a teenager who acts in a modern way but thinks in an old-fashioned way. I write how I feel rather than talking it out to people.”

After reading the short bio by Mr. Cotier a big question mark appears over one’s head as you ponder on his definition of style. His childhood among defective kitchenware has shaped his writing into something inbetween epic and facetious. When reading his creations expect to find yourself submerged beneath thick layers of truth, and crazed revelations.

Junia Pholprasert “i am not a poet. or a writer. i am just a little more each time i write. if you were to ask me to define what it is that i write, i would only define it is not.” 48

Anton Frost http://antonfrost.deviantart.com/ Buy a package of light bulbs at any store and inevitable one bulb in the box will outshine the rest. It always happens, it just seems more luminous. It doesn’t look dissimilar from the other bulbs on the outside but somewhere at the factory it got wired a little differently on the inside, its just so intense! You may ask what am I going on about lighting fixtures for in the literary column of an art magazine. The answer is this, like the bulbs there are poets and then there are poets. There are some that put verse to a page step back and its good but then there are others, the Keats, the Whitman’s that stand out from the rest. What makes their writing different is intensity, the force of motivation and feeling behind the verse. When talking about intensity twenty four year old writer / poet Anton Frost from Grand Haven, Michigan shines like that one bulb I was talking about. Writing with clarity and dang good style is good thing but you have to back it up with feeling with passion to capture the heart and mind of the reader and Anton Frost does just that. Its an interesting occurrence characteristic of the best poets to consider themselves as such not because they have the ability to place verse on a page in an aesthetically pleasing manner but because they believe in the power of the words themselves to change the lives of not only the reader but the writer as well. They believe that words have a life and a breath in there own right. This is exactly what Anton says in regards to his own work. Anton’s work is more than just writing, its an expansion of one’s horizons but I’ll let you the reader be the judge rather then attempt to place myself as end authority on the subject. On "body" – (a brief description of the poetical work by Anton Frost) It is the best translation I could muster of myself, limbs centered on the torso, a core that trembles like tree shadows in the wind--all substantial and immaterial at once. I say as little as possible about my poems. It's all there, and like a blatant crime, it is done, and explains itself. The truth behind a poem, its essence in every line, is what should be discussed. Poetry is so paradoxical in that it provides resolution while at the same time rarely presenting answers, and while it may sometimes be a response to query, more than asking questions, it is a cageless acknowledgment and celebration of mystery. I never question anybody's poem, I just celebrate it, and it is always enough. On "Continuation" – (a brief description of the poetical work by Anton Frost) A poem in the midst. The dance that follows stillness. Harvest, then feast. Writing a poem is a reward for outlasting your despair that everything has left you. Most of the time you rely on your stillness, and your ability to sit doing nothing and simply be, if only for an instant, then you get a hit on your line and the world thrashes. Your head swims with the beautiful moment, the incessant revelation that you are alive in this boundless place. All the words, so familiar they are a part of you; the sky dances around you at times like that. Everything turns over, shows its other side. The moon is on the other side of the earth, but you can feel it spin, looking more like yin and yang than a coin of cheese. This poem's merit for me is the recollection of how I walked down the street, under the glowing overcast, and felt I would burst if I didn't dance, or write.

Walkingblind Magazine

Gunjan http://guitargirl94.deviantart.com/ One of our chosen artists that I believe really needs her day in the sun is Gunjan. Rarely do you find a flower in the eve of the day slowly blossoming to show the world its true hue. We are pleased to have such a young flower saturating the pages of Walkingblind with her craft. To explain her way of writing I would say that Gunjan writes her poems as if she is a master lapidary. With a careful hand, and a steady eye the master studies the precious rock and determines what shape it will be cut into, how rough the edges should be and how long it will take for it to become fully matured. When asked about the motivation behind her writing she says: I write from real life experiences. Everything I write has crossed my mind at one point in my life. It is written when the feeling is fresh in my mind. Once it gets too late and the feeling has drifted, I just leave it alone and wait for another thought which I get down on paper. Life experiences as well as the emotions compounded on top of them as we all know have a way of revealing our demons and angels, harnessing those way ward strands of fleeting memories and molding them into coherent sentences is a challenge even for the best poets. For those who pick up the baton and don the mantle of high standards a style of unprecedented distinction will be their reward, this writer is no exception to that pragmatic truth. She doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t write with a motive in mind nor does she have a set plan or format for her words to fit into. Gunjan understands that words are not like water which takes the form of whatever is around, disguising itself as the material that contains it. A dangerious writer is one who refuses to wall in her words not to say anything against those who cherish structured verses. Introducing Gunjan has been my pleasure and honor so without carrying on any further may I present the evidence of my proclamation. On Buried Alive: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Gunjan)This piece is about starting a new life but still missing and remembering the one you lost. You want to believe you're happy with this new one but there's always the little things you're holding onto. The pain and regret is what hurts even when you're happy, because you can't ever forget every memory. One of the few rules I live by is that no matter how much your heart breaks, keep every promise you once made to your heartbreaker; be the better person. On God, If You're Out There: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Gunjan)This is a piece from the point of view of somebody who used to believe in God but after being let down so much, there is little hope in them that God will return and save them from the pain they're living in.

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Shane Alden Cotier http://youinventedme.deviantart.com/ heeatsfaces@aim.com When asked about his approach to writing Shane Cotier replies: “Shaolin Tiger Style”, caught off guard my mind wondered to visions of Kung Fu Panda as Po and Tai Lung battled through the temple. Stumbling back to reality I fussed over various logical conclusions and even was about to consult an intelligent family member before the truth smacked me in the head; writing can be described as a type of martial art. By comparing his way of molding verses to a rigorously driven tradition dating back thousands of years he was revealing to us his thoughts on the techniques of writing as a whole. Shane has mental and physical control over his poetry, it shows in each break of line and curve of descending stanzas. He lets his poetry freeform from his mind and develops it on the way down to his paper, or illuminating computer screen. Just as martial arts relies on a force unseen, such as the chi, so does Shane’s poetry also venture into the metaphysical, the reality beyond what is perceptible to the naked eye. Think of Mr. Cotier’s writing as unconventional imagery. In conjunction with his view of style he adds this statement to the fold: “On the off chance someone wonders why it is he writes, he is invariably mystified by both the question and the sudden interest. If he had to answer that question, particularly in the third person, he would say he writes because he has to -- it is an overwhelming urge that leaves no choice. He writes to stop his arms & hands from flapping like startled birds, and to briefly stall the inevitable explosion his head will one day experience.” The purpose for writing can be as numerous as the many stars in the sky to writers, it could be anything from the gentle innocence in a child’s eye, or the strong belief that what you do counts. For this writer it’s an act done repeatedly to ward off what he believes is the end of his cranium as a whole. What he describes holds a lot of truth, when reading his work a sense of pressure fills you as if the words themselves have entered into you mind and expanded triple their normal size. Taking in this writer’s poetry is an experience the reader will never regret even as his poetic martial art invades the crevices of common thinking. On The Modern Air Condition: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Shane Cotier) this poem was written one day while trying to write a poem with words in it. In this instance, and perhaps in this instance only, he succeeded with gusto. On Something To Write About at Home: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Shane Cotier) is one of Shane's "World Famous" road poems. It was written on a train ride to Upstate New York. You could say it's a poem about trains, microwaved bagels, and longing. Then again, you're quite free to say it's about chocolate unicorns, raspberry sunsets, and the wacky adventures of a hobo named Grizzlefoot. Shane really doesn't mind, either way.

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Junia Pholprasert http://vampiricbunny.deviantart.com/ A great French politician and philosopher once said “To become truly great, one has to stand with people, not above them.” Humility is the virtue many believe all other virtues hinge upon and it is a rare occasion to find a person that is honestly truly humble in the face of their own brilliance. Enter seventeen year old poet Junia Pholprasert; brilliantly talented and steeped in deep philosophical musings her writing looms large, overwhelming beautiful and seductively intellectual in a way that would say to her peers catch me if you can! To many, in this class of writers to be questioned about their work would open a segway into a lengthened discourse of personal pronouns and shameless self -indulgence, but when we questioned this poet on her writing and the driving motivation behind it , Junia, in an uncommon act of great humility, simply stated ” I am not a poet. or a writer. I am just a little more each time i write.” Choosing to grow each time from the experience of writing and the accolades that follow rather then to allow only ones ego to become enlarged is the mark of a humble human being and a truly great writer. Junia’s style drives the poetic art out of the realm of the existential norm and on through to the transcendental beyond ordinary sight or common experience, in short, it’s a powerful force commanding one’s full attention . Junia’s philosophy on writing reaches a true level of wisdom far beyond her years as you will read here in her own descriptions of her poetry and how she approaches the art. Junia“My motivation to write is like that of other peoples. i find muses around me, the ghosts around me, the world around me, and a world i made up. i like to write about the lines between them. I guess if and when i am writing for someone else, i want to bleed out pretty words from my ugly body. I write for my mother. if you were to ask me to define what it is that I write, I would only define it is not! I approach writing as a form of escapism, but also I acknowledge it as a form of art. I’d rather call it an art, as opposed to an expression despite that it is an expression. I think that poetry without expression is beautiful on it’s own right because it is still art.” Junia places herself at a level on par with other writers within her field, however, as you will see this statement is a by product of her great humility towards her art. We find her work a cut above the rest and truly something to brag about!

On Opium: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Junia Pholprasert} I wrote this for a friend who has a discrete infatuation with opiate influenced chemicals. It encircles her perception over society, and my perception over reality. However, to say that ‘you’ is her is only half true. That is because I believe that every being in the earth can be personified into the fragility of a balloon, especially one of which harnesses opium. the smoke of opium could effortlessly end it’s plastic life, yet it can embody it for the purpose of levitation. if i were to illustrate the idiosyncratic traits of a human being, then I would say they are sinless ( or at least a universe close to ‘sinless’). However, no one is sinless, so no one is truly humane. This tainted sanctuary we call earth is a turning façade, because of the contamination of our own hands – such as the life of a balloon shortens with every touch. I was implying a caveat, almost – one day the universe will belittle itself small enough to fit in my small mouth. On Cherry: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Junia Pholprasert} This could be derived within two transgress ocular depictions. The first is self destruction of the human body by mutilation. The latter is a portrayal of the world of water and world of reality. I have named this ‘cherry’, because cherry beads are very pretty. Despite how grotesque these acts may seem, simplicity is always clean and pretty. As for the ‘air being too much to breathe’ this is perception over reality being over bearing so escapade in the vein of fabrication was needed. This could be the most humane piece I have ever written.

Walkingblind Magazine

Body by Anton Frost

body: a setting mapped in blood, electrified borders of touch, a warm colonnade, a corridor of passages. lips kissing each breath, the rotary verve, an occupied pattern, messages sent and received sub rosa, serials unread, intuited. swarms converge, conquered into the shape of limbs, eyes, reach defined. we dance in our bodies: sort and express the disparate elements of a song often sung-parts hemming themselves inside of expansion; galactic anatomy, explosive, on its own verge.

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it breathes and wakes; welcome.

Trapped in a paradise, With no way out.

Buried Alive by Gunjan

Stuck in utopia, With evil far behind. But somehow I'm imprisoned; Tormented yet smiling. This suffering makes me Bleed out my happiness. Living under this convincing pretense Hurts my heart as the sun goes down. I continue to keep my vows And break the midnight silence With my own tears. I tell others who believe me That I never lie. But everything I say to the other dimension Just kills me inside. Under my skin is where lies the truth; The things that I cannot reveal. Nobody can cut through my flesh And dig up the truth. Only one being knows the spot with the red cross, Scarred into me for the rest of this life. But now I wonder if those memories are still being remembered. Do you still listen to our lullabies? Do they help you get to sleep at night, Or do they rip you apart Like they do to me? You don't want to recover those dreams Because you know you just need one more fall Till your shallow heart will stop beating. But you're the only one Who can save me this time From being buried alive. Walkingblind Magazine

Something To Write About at home by Shane Alden Cotier I'd been drug sniffed addled & otherwise by agents in deep blues demanding points of origin questioning allegiance misor replaced hope to heart to god like father thought or hand to fist to mouth like mother taught as if no one had colored those pale shades of in between so I shook as all good books taught me stretched taught toward a sinuous trail of spread skin a constant a(c)cord a consistent connection to the shape you've made me I tried to trace this journey as a map but found you'd folded us into song

Walkingblind Magazine

Opium by Junia Pholprasert

the universe is pale. i`ve swallowed it arms first into my mouth open wide coerce inside i`ve stomached the underbelly of profound galaxies intervened ribbons of shredded stars and surplus dreams space is nothing but an absence of dominance what really does not matter is that the earth was softest against my teeth. humanity and smoke and mirrors suck me in societyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s deceitful bong, breathe me conspiracies fascists extremists hypocrites sadistic tendencies and something no more or less than sh*t. i am a swollen opium balloon: blue to purple without the red in between.

Walkingblind Magazine

God if Your out There by Gunjan

They're supposed to help out When we are in trouble, But after all the pain and suffering, After everything I've endured, I must erase this belief from my heart. There is no God. Allah wasn't there for me, Nor was Vishnu. Yahweh broke the shield, Revealing me to the creatures That ate up my mind. Shangdi threw me off the cliff himself, Shen and Zhu left me in pieces, And BahĂ did not help. Waheguru removed the light And let me rot away. Odin, if you're really here, Show me a sign that you will keep me happy. Please, don't betray me once more.

Disclaimer: This is not meant to be offensive to anybody or any religion. There are many God-believing religions left out. I took the names of the Gods in some religions only. These were chosen by random.

Walkingblind Magazine

The Modern Air Condition by Shane Alden Cotier

you can' t fall in love with a man for his handwriting but his hand writing is another thing entirely we propose to it admiringly we make bows of ourselves we make new words for fire and we make our real families strangers we take real strangers to bed bodiless skulls cacklin' madly at the necks who've lost their heads

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Cherry by Junia Pholprasert I’ll wear your braclet of cherry beads. Draw me a pretty pink heart on my wrist so I can wear him under my sleeve. The steel is warmest in the water. -mouthlessYou kiss me with cherry lips. Spitting out layers and layers of me. -stiletto sliting substratums-

The air is foreign curious hypocritical treacherous -animalistic conspiraciesI’ll remain in the water -solacewhere there isn’t too much to breathe. My flesh is weeping pale tears -surrenderingas another basin of cherry beads blossom.

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the sun eclipses shadow. i am overcome by my body. my breath wreathes my being, a red garland, pulsating, a door and the drama of being opened. i feel myself emerge, into movement, patterned, intent. the core outward; i am exempt from substance, swaying on the color and light dancing like twin sisters, on the music and movement, orbital. i touch rock, stone of time beyond reckoning, old histories visited and discarded,

sun-smoked, transient, entranced, hazes and phrasing the continuation, the illimitable syllable.

the menus and search parties,

we drive our interiors further in, and out-our ejection.

dreams and dawning flowers of day continue,

the air is charged, rain-washed, electrical. a buzzing circles, descends. blind sky sound down from sky, formless

the doorways and nights,

this place, my eyes and passages, this one surpassing continuation.

Continuation by Anton Frost

drips echoing in the storm-drain, taste of iron in the sound. blood song sung by water-cool erasure dry breathing heavy sodden wet

what good are they to me, i to them?

sight is for the bold, looking, looking...

the street continues.

i walk and stand atop my own pillar.

the desert persists.

i feel what surpasses touch.

the sea retreats and the moon advances with its pale floodwaters into the night.

the rain continues, and the ignition, taking eons, of the sun continues;

desire is a light burning space.

the moon continues, the rotations and tides,

hair engulfed in the wind,

shores and storms,

Walkingblind Magazine

Surreal - Mate

A short story by Kendra Gimblet

ith crossed legs and interlaced fingers I stared with envious joy at my niece as her tiny body suffered under a mass of disheveled blankets. The child’s breathing came in short gasps and throaty wheezes as her sporadic heartbeat set the EKG ablaze, raking my nails lightly over the hospital’s chair I tapped them impatiently keeping in rhythm with the frantic flickers of her eyes under blue veined lids. The salty sweat forming on her brow grew fat and pooled at the sides of her head, filling her inner ear with fluid. I hated her, the sun rose above mountains to peek at her as she lived and the moon became obese with restless souls to accent her gorgeous features as she died. The features she inherited from me the one who carried her parasitic form between the roots of my womb for a barren sister who couldn’t hold onto the sweet thread of life long enough to see her face. What a shame it had been to bury what was left of my beloved sister’s body beside her cantankerous witch of a mother. With a stone heart I arose from the chair and slowly ambled my way to her side heels silently kissing the cold ashen-gray

floor. Raising a hand I lightly brought it down upon her head and stroked her limp brown curls. Opening her matching violet eyes she sleepily gazed at me “momma” she called weakly and I scowled at the title but let it pass this time “yes Anelia”. Her ignorant innocence spilled over in the form of visible fairy tears that I gently wiped away “Am I going to die like the doctor said?” I nodded assuring her of the fact “but I’m almost five” “all die, it is a glorious triangle set up by an infinite being, but you will get a special death…One that will help you continue to live on” “live on?...will you come visit me?” “thankfully no.” With my smirk like smile I urged her back to sleep “take her before her body becomes a waste” I whispered and as if summoned a black silhouette appeared in the corner. “You are a foolish human to bring her body here” “I do as I please” I whispered again stroking her nose. With no warning the creature leapt into the air as if to take flight and landed like a lion on the other side of Anelia’s bed. The traitorous walls circulated his glorious spicy fragrance until the hallucinogenic swirled into my nostrils causing my teeth to chatter. Biting the inside of my cheek I continued to stare at the girl as the glow Walkingblind Magazine

Surreal - Mate

in her skin started to fade “you must hurry and take her, she will be gone before the hour’s out” “such a smart human” he said slowly pronouncing each word as if his slimy tongue was sliding off the backs of them “I wonder if she will taste as good as you do”. With smoldering eyes I squared my bare brown shoulders and lifted my chin sharply in his direction, he stood before me in the form of a pale human with a tight black sweater clinging to his deformed ribs and an oversized trench coat holier than a Catholic priest barely hanging from his frame. “I doubt her essence will be anything to barter with, after all half of it belongs to you” a wildly barbaric smile drew itself with rich charcoal upon his lips and the eyes of a demonic spirit vibrated an envious green inside of his sockets. The allure of his scent and beckoning eyes summoned desire like a pagan gathering in my chest and with each twitch of his face it grew bigger. “She does look a bit like me” he said turning to Anelia and grabbing a fist full of hair, angling the girl’s head toward the moonlight he sniffed her brow and nodded proudly. “I am pleased, you and I make a good product” he picked a foot off of the hospital’s floor and when he put it back down my line of vision was swimming with his tall image. “We will still be needing your services” he said letting a light shudder pass into and out through his body as he drooled lightly. “I will not” my heart sped up and his eyes rolled into the back of his head “you say no, but your soul screams otherwise maybe you two should have tea sometime” I raised my hand to slap him but as my fingers collided with his marble toned skin he lashed out and shoved me so hard I went sprawling into the far wall. 63

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“Here let me help you stand” he hissed into my ear “leave me!” I spat holding my right side. His chuckling filled the night air and I almost didn’t sense my body being lifted up until I was pressed into the wall that had only a few seconds ago become my mortal enemy. “Leave you!” his voice bellowed like a drunk man’s against the floor and ceiling “leave you! you pledged your life to me, wasn’t it you who begged my kin folk to save your soul from such a pitiful homosapian existence. You who devoted yourself to our history and way of living, even your thoughts mirror our very own, you belong to me” “was it not you who stalked me!” “for prey my lovely mate only to drain you of every thriving tendril within your spiritual cistern, I will not deny that I courted your aroma, but my dear you mustn’t think that it was one sided.” The human in me began to weep tears of acid from the inside of myself, I could feel the tears under the skin trail down my skull and cyclone to the pitiful bones of my feet. The other half of me poisoned with long years and knowledge turned to the creature as his swarm of black hair rattled with excitement. With one last glance at Anelia I nodded a silent goodbye to her “do not worry when she learns how to cover her natural body with a human disguise she will come back to this world and visit you” he said impatiently “until then…” I sensed his charcoal smile and closed my eyes. With as much strength as I could muster I wrapped my arms around his upper back and pulled him down to my presented neck, pressing the back of my head against the wall as drops of saliva met my throat in long strands and hot breath massaged goose bitten flesh. “Stop playing with your food!”

Surreal - Mate

I barked and with that a hundred knife-like teeth pierced into me sending blood pouring down my chest in a rush of red. The vile creature drunk like a dehydrated man barred from all water and I was his well, black slowly crept into my vision, spidering the corners of my eyes and the only sound my ears strained to hear was a constant gulping. Holding onto my last strands of dignity I braced myself for each time he clinched his jaw to milk more blood from me. Though I could not hold on when his venom began to enter me burning the wounds he opened and filling the cavities that used to be full of blood until I was so plumb from it my ears and eyes excreted his toxic poison. He released me and I slumped onto a white stand, taking a chance I looked over and saw him face buried in the puddle of blood that gathered onto the floor, when finished he stood with a face full of evil joy and a smudge of my blood on his cheek. Reaching up I wiped my DNA from his face and he shivered “We’re not done yet” he gargled and with that I fainted. Dreams are such bizarre things, I am living two lifetimes in one and my knowledge rivals that of any flesh born human or surreal being yet…dreams are so hauntingly obtuse. I remember just before I gave my life away in return for a new manifestation of forever, I had just gotten to the middle of a new book called ‘Dracula’ when my father came into the study and in a drunken rage tore the clothes from my teenage body and beat me with fists and horse whip. He was in pain because I held the beauty and eyes of a woman who used him up and then discarded him like a lovelorn delivery boy. It was in that moment that I called out to my

dark stalker and the window exploded as he rushed in, before my father could turn around his neck was mangled and a hand punched itself through his chest. When looking into the eyes of my savior I saw… darkness such darkness. “Ma’am wake up, ma’am?” a bright light flickered from eye to eye and they responded to the annoying invasion with a glare at the woman breathing in my face so hard I could smell the end of her life. “Can you hear me?” “how can I not, what your voice lacks in buoyancy your face picks up in candidness” I sneered. She backed up and pointed her nose skyward. “Well you’ve been out for a week, we thought you were going to die” she said as I sat up “you have an accent” I said “where am I?” “Kildare” “Ireland…” she nodded “a nice couple found you and brought you in” rolling my eyes I got out of bed.” Shuffling into new clothes I headed for the door “see you in seven months” she said and I stopped “what?” “your with child, and he’s growing like a weed he is” “he?” “yes woman a nice strong boy! What will you name him?” touching my stomach I said “Bastian Dragomir” “after your husband?” “no, after my mate.”

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WalkingBlind

Photography

Photographer

Colgate Smile by Coulombic

Cameras: Canon EOS 5D, Infrared-modified Canon EOS 5D, Canon EOS 1Ds MK III Lenses: Canon EF 16-35mm f/2.8L, Canon EF 16-35mm f/2.8L II, Canon EF 50mm f/1.4, Sigma 24-70mm f/2.8 Macro www.flickr.com/photos/coulombic http://.coulombic.deviantart.com http://500px.com/coulombic http://1x.com/v2/#?action=mypro file&u=49368

Walkingblind Magazine

Coulombic Gabe Farnsworth

Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m not sure how old I was, but I happened across a series of images from Ansel Adams. Growing up in the early 1980s was, as many of us remember, a little different than life today. Instead of digital cameras, DVDs, and speaking of gigabytes of memory, we had film, and magnetic tape. Life has changed more than a fair bit since then. Photograph albums are a relic; a throwback to a time that was, but is no longer. Replaced with it we have digital collages, iPhoto, Pi-

casa. . . a strange replacement, entirely sterile, and lacking the emotional sentimentality of holding something physical. I picked up my first camera at an early age and began playing with it. I remember my motherâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s large hands cradling mine as we held her old Olympus 35mm together; the cold steel in my embrace, my fingers not quite large enough to hold the camera and

OTTER BEACH I'm new at this "waterscape" thing. I don't think many of my images have turned out particularly well, but it's a learning process. Plus, there really wasn't all that much sunlight, so the lighting, in general, was rather bland for my time spent around the coast. To make matters worse, my Hitech 1.2 GND filter very obviously colorcasts.

Good Fortune Cove Taken down the US-101 scenic coastal highway in Oregon near Cape Perpetua. In the case you're wondering, I was drenched right after this shot. Not lightly misted, but completely, full-body drenched. It was incredibly loud whenever the waves would crack against the jagged basalt. I have pictures right after this where the water impacted me and my camera. Walkingblind Magazine

operate its functions all at the same time. It felt so heavy and awkward; my thumb straining with the assistance of my mother’s hand to wind the film. Quite honestly, I was less interested in taking pictures than the mechanical actions and composition of the camera, itself. Slowly, however, over the course of a few years, with the guided assistance of my mother, I grew to appreciate and enjoy exactly what a camera did, more than the hardware that comprised it. My initial images were nothing beyond a sentimental value – not even so much to me, but to my parents. A compromise was made, always, when deciding which were to be printed. Naturally, I was adamant that all of them were worthy of printing, but money was tight, and my mother had the final say after looking through the negatives. Picking up prints was always a joyful time. The excitement of seeing exactly what was captured is something I will never forget; something the new generation of photographers, many of them, will never know. I’m not sure exactly how old I was, but I happened across a series of images from Ansel Adams. While I’d seen nature photography before, naturally, his study of national parks moved me in a pretty substantial way. Ansel’s work, more than anything, directed me toward landscape photography, not simply with the goal of capturing nature not only as I see it, but capturing what is felt. Ultimately, more than capturing a technically perfect, beautiful image, that’s really the goal. A sense of sadness does overtake me when I think about the transition over the last 20 years, however. While the photographer’s intentions are largely the same, the overall implementations have changed substantially. Photography was about prints not all that long ago; those few cherished images from the roll converted into something physical. Now, it’s less about the prints, and more about the sheer number of images taken. Albums and family time spent sitting around, viewing historical moments of each others’ lives almost a thing of the past. While the

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Fear Me by Coulombic He's real! An owl I mistakenly awoke while hiking through Paria Canyon in Southern Utah. I inadvertently woke him up by brushing against the small tree in which he was sleeping. He tumbled, fell, and got up, only to conjure his most fearsome posture. Needless to say, it was hard to actually be intimidated, due to the situation, the sleep in his eyes, and his/her diminutive stature.

“Photography was about prints not all that long ago; those few cherished images from the roll converted into something physical.” photographer’s intentions are largely the same, the overall implementations have changed substantially. Photography was about prints not all that long ago; those few cherished images from the roll converted into something physical. Now, it’s less about the prints, and more about the sheer number of images taken. Albums and family time spent sitting around, viewing historical moments of each others’ lives almost a thing of the past. While much has certainly changed over the last 20 years in photography, for many, the ultimate goals have not. Still, as photographers, the desires are the same. We’re still working to create both beautiful and moving images. Film or digital, I would still hold the same views about what makes a great photograph; my toolset would be entirely different, but my mindset would be much the same.

Paria by Coulombic Paria Canyon as seen through infrared. In the background image in the red rock you see the wave of the North Coyote Buttes, the morning light on sandstone can be particularly vibrant. Of all the images of the Wave, located in Paria Canyon AZ/UT, floating around out there, this one, specifically, is pretty uncommon, as I had to crab-walk out onto a ledge, then around a bit of a cliff to get this. I seriously thought I was going to fall.

“Just some Guy with a couple of expensive cameras trying to get by in this crazy world.” Walkingblind Magazine

Pansa Sunavee

Mr. Camera

Born: 26 July 1972, Saraburi, Thailand. Education 1983 Ban Moh Patanarat School 1986 Satit Tephsatree Teachaer College School 1989 Faculty of Art, Lopburi Technical College. 1991 Diploma of Thai Art, Poh-Chang Institute. 1998 B.A. Philosophy, Ramkhamhaeng University. Current Residence: Phitsanulok Thailand Specialty: Fine art photo & Abstract painting Website : www.pansa-art.com

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Denis Grzetic

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It is seldom, in this digital age, one runs across tone and balance as technically perfect as found in the photography of Denis Grzetic. With Weston like finesse each monochrome print is a masterpiece of light and shadow in and of themselves. This award winning photographer has achieved a style and a clarity in his images most strive for but find very elusive. Once called a â&#x20AC;&#x153;quiet lightâ&#x20AC;? by Ansel Adams the eloquence of luminosity in Denisâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s photos is hard to beat.

Born 1964 in Pazin (Croatia) and starting with photography in 1984, Denis shot only black and white and developed in his own darkroom at that time....Working for a few different newspapers Denis found his way into several group exhibitions taking some awards in the Grisia-Rovinj Youth festival in Pazin. For various reasons Denis stopped doing photography in 1990 and returned once again on 1999. Denis recalls most of his interest for visual art

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Daydreaming In Carteret by Denis Grzetic

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terest lie in black and white photography and that interest continues to this day. Denis doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t express an interest in color photography even if, as he claims, "it is better to see a good color picturer then a bad black and white one." Sometime, Denis said, I hear opinions that some styles are better suited to color but I dont agree; before color photography even existed everything was shot in black and white. All kinds of different styles, no matter what they are there are photographers that have tried to express themselves with the black and white pallete. "We have color but now but I just dont find my interest lies there.....but of course that is just my opinion and many will disagree.

A church near Sitia by Denis Grzetic

We asked Denis who it was that he found as his inspiration when he was getting into the art of photography, his answer was; film directors like Luis Bunuel, John Ford, Andrei Tarkovsky,

Kada...Just for fun byDenis Grzetic

started with movies and film. He's a big film fan with movies very often being a source of greatest inspiration. Answering our interview questions Denis expressed an interest in paintings too but stated "I am not very good with that and I just stay there as a observer...but anything that is around me is inspiration for me, people, nature or just life itself." Denis tries to tell a story with some of his photography and often times is able to capture a moment that somehow "fits" to his vision...."When I started in 1984, in that time i didnt know much about technique, I knew that my in-

Sea Fence...III by Denis Grzetic Quiet Flight Denis Grzetic

thirds" We hope you enoyed Denisâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s imagery as much as we did. His timless style truly is one you feel you must return to over and over again. we look forward to seeing a lot more from this talented artist in the future.

Sergei Eisenstein and some are photographers like Ansel Adams, CartierBresson, croatian photographer ToĹĄo Dabac etc. In the end it is for viewer to deicide if something is interesting in some way in some of my pictures and is not necessary that he or she share the same vision with me. A good photograph is, I think, where the observer is motivated to see that picture again and again and find something new each time, even a very simple piece of sea and sky it doesnt matter really what the motitation is. Denis's equipment is stright forward: A canon 5d with 17-40L lens, A Canon F-1 (film camera), an Olympus E-1 with 14-54 and 25 mm pancake lens some tripods and various ND filters... Want to learn more about this photographer, you can find him on websites like "DeviantArt.com","Art Limited" ,"Photo Net", "Fotozine" and "My Four Debate

by Den

is Grze

tic

Post Cards

From Cambodia

Dr. Lee Hunter Edd.

Enter Dr. Hunter, My brother in law - teacher, father, musician, photographer, and very frequent flyer. On any other day, when not teaching He and his wife ( my sister) can be found traveling the globe living the kind of life most only dream of but few ever experienced. From the jungles of Ecuador to the mountains of Peru, then a flash across Europe, passing through Egypt and dining in China this is one very well traveled teacher! He ‘s the kind of professor you hope for when signing up for a class, never dull and always intriguing, but we’re not here to sit in sociology class. The images on that disk were from one of his trips to Cambodia and though he does not consider himself to be a professional photographer, the pictures were simply amazing. But who is this world traveler let Dr. Hunter himself tell you his story. In the 60s I attended Georgia Southern College majoring in psychology and anthropology. In 1967 my anthropology professor assigned the class to scour the countryside 'confiscating' artifacts that reflected the state's racist history. A lot of bathroom and water fountain signs were stolen. These were shaped into an exhibit piece. It was an invigorating time, even in rural Georgia. We were able to open a coffee house, travel to several civil rights marches, and

On any given day you will usually find Dr. Lee Hunter hard at work at Orange County Community College in Middletown NY, doing what he does best “teaching sociology,” but on any other its an entirely different matter. If you call he won’t pick up the phone, because where he’s going there aren’t any!!!

Not too long ago I received a disk in my mail box, stumbling into my office I dropped it in my computer and proceeded on a journey. This was not software or sales content, there were no ads here, in fact where I was going on that CD there weren’t even any roads. I had no fear of what I would find on that disk, knowing the person who had sent it to me, there was only anticipation of some Indiana Jones like crusade across some exotic far off landscape.

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meet Rev. King. In 1969 I became one of the first graduate students studying humanistic psychology at West Georgia College. Grad students lived together in a community and offered week-end therapy groups for people from Atlanta. It was an alternative program with no tests. We all discovered that we learned much more when we were responsible for our own experiences. By 1973 I had a Master's Degree and was teaching psychology in downtown Baltimore. In 1977 I moved to Boston to study sociology of education at Boston University and earned my doctoral degree in 1983. My dissertation dealt with the impact of mass production methods on school lessons aimed at teaching children how to handle their money. Instead of saving, they were supposed to spend wisely. That would keep the economy going. While in Boston my daughter RisĂŤ was born and I worked with my wife as co-manager of a private psychiatric halfway house. I devoted a lot of time in my life to music. In the 60s I was part of the folk music scene in Atlanta. At times during the 70s and 80s I traveled around the country collecting songs inspired by events in U.S. history like World Wars I and II, the Great Depression, the Space Race, the Cold War, etc. I would sing the songs at colleges, museums, and historical sites and I recorded two cassettes for sale at museums and historical sites. My wife and I

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now orient our lives around two priorities - teaching classes and traveling to the far corners of the planet - Australia, China, Costa Rica, Thailand, Egypt, Ecuador, Peru, and Cambodia. No classy hotels or beach lounging. We travel by public transport and sleep in backpacker hotels or jungle eco-lodges. I am trying to learn how to take good photographs of ancient sites and jungle wildlife. Every semester I teach SOC 101, the introductory course, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I offer SOC 120, Social Problems. This class focuses on the crises caused by the concentration of wealth and power in the hands of the super-rich who use their money to control politicians and make billions for themselves manipulating global markets. We all lose. Americans need a good health care system and better schools. College should be inexpensive and full of exciting and challenging courses.

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Lee Hunter and his wife Debbie in Egypt

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Articles

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ear reader, This months issue marks the beginning of Walkingblind Magazine’s premiere voyage to bring you the finest photographic images the world has to offer. From the surreal to the sublime we embark on a epic journey beyond the travel photos and snapshot crazed tourist to the meat of the photographic community. Our quest will carry us deep underground through winding labyrinths of cavernous galleries fleshing out the purest deposits of silver halides ever to grace the facade of the ferrotyped universe. But before we stap on our helmets and tighten our camera straps I would like to share with you some meditations on the role of photography as an art form as well as a postulate on why we become photographers in the first place. So join me for a different perspective, and one heck of a ride.

Photography as an art form and profession today pushing the envelope of the has been with us for only a short period of medium far beyond what he could time, just a a little over a hundred and fifty have ever imagined. Photography years, however the principles of photography has blossomed from that moment are much older. Dating back over a 2000 in time to a tool so necessary to us years ancient astronomers and sketch artists that we would literally be lost cast images on the wall of darkened room without it. However photography employing a device known as the ‘camera has not always been so well reobsura’ or darkroom. The very word phoceived, photography came on the tography is derived from two also very anscene like a whirlwind and flew cient Greek words, ‘photo’ meaning light and in the face of painters, sketch ‘graphein’ artists w h i c h everytranslated where. means to Photogwrite or raphers writing w e r e with light. viewed But what as non-Ansel Adams intrigues artists us about usurping the possithe glory bility of writing with light, about the possidue to those who had to work hard bilities of preserving for posterity that which with pen or brush to make an is but a reflection of a past experience who’s image. To combat this early light has already faded. When Joseph Niépce stigma many photographers, in an made the first lasting photographic image attempt to make the cold hard could he have know the immense impact on recorded image more aesthetically modern society as we know it his actions pleasing, purposely blurred their would have. Like ripples in a pond the reperimages to look more like an imcussions of the proverbial stone that he pressionist painting rather then a dropped still continue to radiate outward photograph. Fortunately there

Photography can not express the human soul, but the photographer perhaps can.

were some, those visionary thinkers, that believed photography to be a relevant art form in its own right and worthy of a place in the artistic community and history itself. Individuals like Paul Strand, Alfred Stieglitz , Edward Weston and of course Ansel Adams refused to be intimidated by the opponents of the photographic camp. Pioneering technique and craft these photographer and others fought back hard to bring the medium into its own. With a purist creed they began to produce images with a clarity and luminance not seen before. These heralds of the cause the myths and misconceptions assigned to photographer and set out on a mission to prove that the photographer, not photography can express the deepest visions of the human soul. We, who practice the photographic arts owe these radical claimstakers of the photographic frontier a debt of gratitude for their relentless efforts. So why do we become photographers? I believe it is a calling felt deep within our spirit to relate our most intimate feelings to the world to show them a moment in time we experience something larger than ourselves. We may not fully understand what we see through our viewfinders, however, we do understand how it made us feel on the inside. It is that feeling more then actual representation of what was literally there that we put into the final print, it is a piece of our being. The photographer seems almost small compared to the beauty and design of his subject matter, but giant in how it allows them to feel to be able to express that subject in a personal way. Like the story tell of old painting with hands on the walls of caves what we create is the story of our life and how all that we see with our minds eye made us react in that situation, it is satisfying in our prints to present sometime in mystical levels those most personal visions. Photography becomes an extension of our soul and allows us the luxury of being able to relate, in a way no other means afford, the epiphany, that rapturous moment the world around us caused to feel alive. We hope you will enjoy the articles and features to come, and welcome you on this most magazine journey. – Alex Dark Photographer

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Lifeline: Keeping up in Todayâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Graphic Industry -By Samantha Puchlerz

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It is one of the quickest paced jobs a person could work at. It ranks on the scale of need next to healthcare and agriculture, and it is one of the most mentally and imaginatively demanding career fields on the planet. It is the field of graphic art and design, and it has only one constant- without it, we would be a bland, uninformed, emotionally distant world. A lack of graphic design or designers would be catastrophic. Without convincing advertisement, companies would never be able to compete with one another for consumer supremacy, making products obsolete in their creation before even one could be sold. With smaller corporations and businesses depending on such exposure to keep their metaphoric â&#x20AC;&#x153;headsâ&#x20AC;? above water in the dog-eat-dog environment of today, their sales would tank almost immediately, forcing them into a door-closing freeze. It would leave thousands-perhaps, globally, even millions- without a cozy cubicle and a company computer to hang their hat at. Eventually the larger corporations would be forced to merge, laying off even more working class folk. And in this automated time we live in, necessary products would shoot off the assembly line without ever knowing so much as the touch of a human hand. Therefore, the only viable career becomes the touchy terra firma of automation, and with no choices, natural selection destroys everyone unfit for the job. In short, it

would be akin to dropping an atomic bomb on every major city in the world with the expectation of minimal fallout. Advertisers and graphic artists keep the wheel turning. But that turning also means they must adhere to the revolution. There can be no rebels in this field, except the kind that push to better the habitat in which they exist. They must not only push themselves above and beyond the call of artistic duty to ensure they can meet any challenge a potential client can heave at them, but remain up to date on the ever-shifting industry standards and be constantly exposed to new medium. For example, turn your attention to what is quite possibly the largest controversy to hit the mainstream design world in years- the great page layout war. Or, by its more common title: QuarkXpress v. Adobe InDesign. Both programs are well respected, well created programs. And in the end, you can arrive at your ideal result with either program. The issue is in the designers themselves. For many of us, QuarkXpress is or has been a way of life. We could use it in our sleep. However, when purchasing Adobe Products, InDesign is bundled in the CS suite. And Adobe’s shiny new CS5 is certainly nothing to sneeze at. But now the dilemma arisesdo we just continue on our merry way with Quark, or do we stake our claim in InDesign? The answer is left up to the eye of the beholder, as so much is in this industry. Even the use of color seems to be changing (Adobe Kuler may have had a hand in that). And that’s just our end of the spectrum. What about the printers of the world? Is anybody still stripping by hand, or are they all going DTP? How much is being sent to an offset press or to your publisher’s tear-jerkingly beautiful new Heidelberg? And of course, the all important question everyone needs to ask themselves: when is my new widescreen super hi-def iMac and my Wacom Cintiq 21UX going to finally arrive in the mail? Keeping yourself informed as a graphic designer is the quintessential key to surviving your day job. The other crucial part, besides having an obvious and second-nature understanding of your work and

how to make the vision in your head hit the paper, is to always try something new. With this new era of constant computer updates and the magnetic pull of the latest and greatest products (though I do not suggest getting said “magnetic pull” near your electronics) “new” is a word I personally find myself using at least once a day. So force yourself to think outside the box. Don’t try to push unfocused thoughts away during your work hours- embrace them and ask yourself how you can incorporate your freshly discovered nonconformity into your current masterpiece. Merge sleek with savvy, funky with elegant, and see what happens when your client either walks in or calls you up with their comments on the proof you gave them. 99.9 percent of the time it is a winning situation, or at least, one worth trying with the most open minded customer you have n retainer. So on your next coffee break, don’t let yourself mindlessly float away into that steaming hot cup o’ joe. Whip out that phone and budget out some time to check up on new materials. Maybe even budget your budget so you can afford your new toys. Also, embrace the ancient arts, arcane as they may seem, grab a pen or pencil and doodle on that napkin or a piece of paper. Because if we turn the wheel, doesn’t it make sense that one day it will have gone full circle? “Samantha was just 14 years old when she officially began working in the industry and has now worked for thousands of clients through her day job and her side project, “BlakMarket Studios.”

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Coherence A writer on writing by Indigo Reid

Top row:William Shakespeare - Henry David Thoreau Bottom row: Walt Witman - edger Allan Poe

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All images taken from the public domain

n many of my articles I start on a high vast knowledge and power of a creature who note in an attempt to give you a menhas been around for hundreds even thoutal wedgie which I would hope sesands of years, their flesh and nourishment cures your eyes to the screen for is now shared with a host who if not taken atleast the beginning paragraph. care of or just evil to begin with will posses Since a person normally judge what the body using it as its own. Though writers they read by the first sentence, I force myself don’t have to ingest an alien in order to beto produce the best horizontal tower of lexcome a vessel to words we do have to surreneme that is in my grasp of power in order to der our imagination and mind so that they osculate my desired meaning to your mind. may take residence within us, this can be While I am unable to accurately pinpoint the done with or without our ever knowing. The wanderings of your thoughts unless you wisdom that words bring is boundless if you comment on the website, I am led to hope think about it everything known to man, that my words have done a proper job. As every particle, every fact and fiction, ever lie you have probably figured from my horribly or truth every art form has been carried by self-centered example above this article is the vehicle of words at one time or another. about the task of harnessing words, to all the The importance of voice, language and comwriters, wannabes, and literary novices who munication depends on the functionality of dare to dream of a day when words bend to words. So you see why I say that writers are your will my advice to you is to give up and vessels not commanders but simple harbecome a court stenographer. Though you nessers of this special life blood that flows can command using throughout the world. words, you cannot com“a writer who bottles up the mand the words your Something I really using, it is a weird relawanted to give attention to words given to him is a ticking tionship that one who in this article is the outtime bomb waiting like a newbears the true mark of a pouring of bottled up talborn in the back of his mind, ent and the need to write writer has, this mark is in the palms of their hands almost to the point that it uncared for and unattended.” and when the words appears to be an addictive. swell up their veins like If you were to peer into a thick bile the palms itches certain person’s room at and the fingers respond by throwing living four in the morning every other day you wormlike letters onto the screen. I am rewould see a young woman laying on a Japanminded of a lovely person whom once told ese futon mattress staring up at a popcorn me that she didn’t consider herself a writer, ceiling, eyes slightly glazed over darting having read her work I smiled lightly and from one corner of her green gray walls to told her that she and I really had no say in the another. After a few minutes have passed the matter, we are vessels to the oldest form of woman would be breaking her neck to get creation. out of bed and turn her laptop computer on, tapping long fingernails on her glass desk as I can only compare the taking over of our her heartbeat skips like a young frolicking bodies to this art form to the grotesque filly, the cure to her impatience is Microsoft process in which a goa’uld from Stargate Word. Of course this person is me and there takes over a living being. If you are familiar have been other incidents where I would to the goa’uld then you know that they are a write poetry as I shopped, murmur ‘Ode on parasitic race, that have to take over healthy a Grecian Urn’ by John Keats to an innocent living beings in order to survive. When the child at the park, or hurry a poor cashier up person is taken over he or she inherits the just so I could scribble on the back of my reWalkingblind Magazine

ceipt. At first I thought it was just me that did these weird things in public like a druggie needing her morning, afternoon and dinner time fixes then I met other writers…real ones; I soon learned that I was not alone in my spastic behavior. There is a reason why a writer who bottles up the words given to him is a ticking time bomb waiting like a newborn in the back of his mind, uncared for and unattended to. I will put it this way, for convenience sake lets pretend that the Christian ‘Bible’ all sixty-six books compiled into one mega slab of knowledge which has been proven to date back thousands of years, was suppose to be written by one man. This man a natural born writer goes decades without writing what has taken over his heart and mind, he can’t sleep, eat, or focus like he needs to and on top of that his palms are excruciatingly itchy. The simple question I want to ask you is, do you want to be around that person when the bomb blows up? Write and save a live. In the last paragraph I talked about ‘real ones’ I am aware that you all are most likely asking me what a “real one” is, of course I was speaking of quality writers which are those who know what their writing about. I am a very honest person who doesn’t believe in sugar coating the truth just because it would take too much time, being this way helps me to say things boldly with a smile on my face, and what I have to say is that some writers new and old write terribly. There are times when I read different genres of literary work and wish I had scholarships to the best writing colleges around to pass out like candy. Discerning good writing from bad is undoubtedly subjective and usually left up to professors to decide, so picking out the bad apple is not a way to look at this delicate situation. In order to get to the core of any type of writing you must make contact with the writer, grammatical and typos can be fixed easily but that wont matter if the person is mentally immature. You may be reading this and feel offended but know that I am telling the truth, and if we continue to ignore 91

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those who are struggling they will never learn what it means to fall in love with freeform or Shakespearean verses. It is our job as the ones who went on before them to help them like we hoped someone would have helped us. Am I calling myself an excellent writer? No way, I am far from a literary crown and farther from sanity, I raise my words against no person and I only hope to one day inspire a fellow writer in his or her own quest of words. I was sitting here thinking about ways to help someone write better, because even that statement is often left to scrutiny. What we need to really think about is what makes a person’s writing style good period and end of story, while asking myself that question I remembered what I wrote in an online article about alternative literature it reads like this ‘What needs to be addressed here is that the perceived abstractness within alternative literature is only visual candy a coating of pattern and eye catching glitz. This illusion overlays the underlying path and structure conceived to lead the reader to a specific thought or emotion. Good alternative literature isn’t solely rated on the appearance of the piece but the readability and skill by the author to form an understandable creation. A lot of aspiring free form writers enjoy the freedom without the realization that there is still a foundation that remains to be built. The mantel the very core of writing is the meaning.’ To be able to help those writers who seem to be having a hard time, don’t tell them that their doing fine ask them about their art’s meaning of existence. Harnessing the power of words is not an easy thing to do, even some of the most famous poets in history failed to properly learn to mold a bit piece for their words. In closing I would like to thank you for reading this article and remember that it’s okay to be taken over by your words, never hold them back from the word, and don’t continue to baby those who need help show them that there is not correct way to write but there is a literary foundation that needs to be build.

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Entertainment

"Once upon a time" a short comic about relations between one witch and God of destruction

Sion Darkness

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To Be Continued? 98 99

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Be sure to come back for our next issue because..... Weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re turning up the Heat!

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Coming next month in WalkingBlind Magazine: Photoshop Howtoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s 101

Next Issue: Light Bursts

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