Field Notes No. 005 // Staining Light

F I E L D N O T E S

staining light

No. 005

may 2015

F I E L D N O T E Sart through collection

Issue No. 5staining light

Field Notes exists to document the expressions and art that collect over the course of our experiences.

This issue is an effort to explore the spaces of contradiction, split selves and multiple truths within us. Much of our world exists in terms of opposites and binaries. While at times these catego-ries can help us construct an identity and understand the world around us, at other times they are responsible for feelings of paralyzing uncertainty and an inability to reconcile what is “true.” Our beliefs sometimes ram against each other, yet again their flu-idity hums within us in euphony. There is more happening within us than we can sometimes express, but it is crucial, at the very least, to try.

fieldnotesarts.org

matthew dwyer shannon keelanfranzi ehmer albert lagrange peter giunta alexa masicarly goldburg eleni mutafopulosnikole jewell mollie o’leary

c o n t r i b u t o r s

eleni mutafopulascollected sketches

Listen for the broken sound.My heart peeps through a crooked window pane,wondering when I will be found.

Pieces of myself fall like fingerprints on the ground.Splinters of a smile, invisible heartbeats, muted pain.Please, listen for the broken sound.

A glass bandage covers the deepest wound.A ticket on the nowhere train,taking people to oblivion, never to be found.

Even in the air, we can drown.Silver teardrops leak into my brain.Tell me, did you hear the broken sound?

Time doesn’t stop; don’t turn around.A bouquet tied with a blue vein.Some dropped petals are never found.

The void between I am and I was is profound.Take my hand, fill it with what you cannot explain.I know you heard it too—the broken sound.It whispered in my ear, stop waiting to be found.

collected poetrymollie o’leary

stuck to the bottom of a shoe

through p. 09

peachesI watchas a man walksby, eyeing

us. He takes out some changebut will not

pay our full expense. Hebargains us

close toseventy-eightcents, though we

are pricedat one dollar.Then he scoops

up a curvy fruit. His sharp, hard teeth

bite with anticipa-tion. The young

fruit stepsout of its skin,revealing

wet flesh underneath. Hewipes his mouth.

The next day I sit ina bowl that

is called“Yesterday’s Pick”with the rest

of the old fruit. We area little

Wrinkled. Our fuzz is morethick. A man

scruncheshis nose as ifinsulted

by ourmortality--as if our

realnessis shameful. He turns away.

But wewon’t make ourselvessmall for him.

At theend of the day,we may be

dropped in trashcans and soonforgotten.

but this isn’t our life. Lookclosely now.

We willescape our cageof stifling

plasticand gather in compost piles.

We will grow togetherin strength and

number.We won’t sufferquietly.

We will regenerateand rise up

into the air. Openyour mouth

and breathein the future.We are here.

dead planet She sits in the waiting roomfor 17 minutes andstares at the dead potted plant.It is surrounded by yellow leaves.

She sits in the dentist’s chairfor an hour. “How often do you floss?”The dentist wipes her chin.

The taste of metallic blood.A pale water stain on the ceilingand a film of dust, obscuring a familyportrait. They are wearingidentitcal white shirts.

The radio plays a song on the way home with wordsthat don’t make sense.She drives over yellow leaves—they break apart so delicately.

At home, she watches the TV. It is talking about someone else’s life.

Light continues to fade,and her life quietly peels away.Hour by hour, she sheds morelayers, acquiescing to the tickingclock above her.

A slow unfolding,like letting go of a hand.She wonders how it will feelto reach her core—the center of Time

She hopes it feels like somethingat all

I want to be so much.My eyes are lotus petals,cradling the impossible softness.

There are no edges. Just like me.Gentleness is crushing. I can onlyfeel it through the fire.

I am not someoneor anyone at all. My tearsdo not cleanse me.

I am afraid of so much.Look at the way the world turns,and nobody notices.

My memories are satellites above my head.Blood red moons, circling.

I want you. It is not simple.I think about that a lot, and whatyour hands say about me.

The future slips through my fingerseach day, but I always find it againa little down the path.

I understand nothing exceptthrough what I feel. And I feel so much.

pendulum

you can be whoever you want

albert lagrange

You grow up being shaped by notions of rigidity and strict form. The scope is narrow and biased. Success and ideals are defined for you and anything other than that is outcasted, deemed as social blasphemy. You are rarely urged to take risks or go against the grain in any way as this would be a detriment to your well-being and reputation. Instead of instilling fear and insecurity, the goal should be the encouragement of individuality and expression. You need to be reminded that you can go anywhere and do anything you want. You need to be reminded that this Earth belongs to nobody. It is a mass of compounds suspended in space whose future is out of any humans hands. Its future is decided by Nature. You need to be reminded that you are Nature. You are a vibration of en-ergy who happens to have cognizance and a terrestrial life, just the same as are the ones shoving fear and conformity down your throat; you need to be reminded of this. Hierarchy is an illusion, borders are an illusion, and time is an illusion; you need to be reminded of this. You need to be reminded that you can be whoever you want.

triptychnikole jewell

mild velvet—the stormleaves a great divide:peat and pitchglycerine and lyethe named and instinct

the rose and tonicof whipping bloodthe forst and unfrostinfluence and seizure

and you—all palmsand bergamot—and me, hinge jointand gingerwith all this time inside

predictive textmatthew dwyer

facing page

Typed only using predictive text, these messages explore the relationship we have with technology, and the aggregates of messages and concerns we express daily. A side effect of this prediction is the non-linear nature of the expressions. As it only accounts for grammar, the results are vague coherence and stream of consciousness ideas, unexpectedly jumping to new topics with the change of a keyword.

don’t do this to meshannon keelan

This piece explores the duality of the highly emotional and highly emotionless self.

baby bluealexa masialexa masi

not so much afraid of myself but afraidof never coming closer to the truth, of nevertaming it, of never packing it into all of my aching living and breathing—my baby blue, my heart in husky denim,my voice slapping against my skin as I satin the bathroom and wondered if on my ninth birthdayI would wake up and find myselfas something else, closer and closer withal.not afraid—never of myself, butstill afraid.

not so much a deep space but a singlethistle of light, eddying, purpling,and blowing right past me—not so much afraid of its sting, its candy bite,but afraid of it slipping away,ribbons of tadpole light like ribbonsout of my hair and so left undone,and so left unbecoming, unbelonginginto something else: closer, farther, the fear of truth andnothing to fear withal

baby bluebaby bluebaby blue alexa masi

virginia wakes me with blushing light second-hand through the windowshieldto leave my body untouched.i didn’t feel that it was a question.

virginia watches me for three highway hoursand i hold my arm out the window withthe other splaying towards the radio, riding crucifix style.i didn’t feel that it was a condition.

primordial hurt in a passenger seatthat would seem self-evident but hasbeen covered up: bugs hitting my glass body,a mausoleum of tiny, grimy endingsbut i didn’t feel it was an absolute.

original heated body still fresh from aclay oven, still tendon-red from gnawing itsway out from between a chokecollar of ribs,but now motionless through the air whilecarving high-speed in hot steel through the air,not feeling that it’s anything butwondering if those sirens are for me.

alexa masisayer

collected artworkfranzi ehmer

through p. 23

It might be impossible to plant a treeAnd then lie down over it and wait for it to carry you to heaven.It would take approximately 1 lifetimeAnd your progress would be measurable.

It is based on the simple assumption that trees grow up, rather than downAs God, in one of many forms, is the star of HGTV’sIntelligent Design.

How intelligent, to create these service elevatorsAnd how clueless we have beenToiling away with our little dialy inquisitions,Taking the stairs.We must not waste time inquiring in the lateral.

It is too late for you, so quickly now.Have children, do the decent thing and leave them in the yard.

garden green peter giunta

peter giunta

The inside of your head is a pub,Often much too crowded.You wonder why sinuses existIf not to remind you of how hard it isTo force your ideas through the nose.

It gets harderTo remind you that we must not blame disease.It eats and commutesAnd starves.You stopped eating because you didn’t want to feed itOr because you can’t stand the idea that Little Debbie hasn’t aged a day.

You want to be emblazoned on a microwaveable boxSo that people will envy your immortalityAnd yet you also want to be popular among the elderlyBecause they hold the secret to life.Learning cribbage anew each day,Concerned only with the location of their caneIn the hour of lunch.

black cane at lunchtime

collected photographycarly goldberg

through p. 29


franzi ehmer www.franziehmer.com https://www.facebook.com/franziehmer.artFranzi Ehmer is a German-born expressionist figurate painter from London. Her early and intimate works surround the essence of restriction. Her artworks depict the restrictions in the mind, body and movement, along side society, culture and religion. Exploration of the theme begun with personal narrative and self-reflection leading to the facades and hidden boundaries inflicted by exterior forces. Tackling oppression and discomfort for communities and individuals is a growing passion for Franzi, and is represented in a number of her works. Rich in psychological nature and twisted images, the viewer is lured into a world of realiza-tion and appreciation. Her current works encompass abstract ideas and mix media processes. In contrast to her abstract focus and studies of the interaction between colours and shapes, her detail orientated eye has been caught by the medium of tattooing and is currently build-ing a portfolio heavily incorporating dot work and line work.

carly goldberg [email protected] Carly Goldberg is a lover of bad jokes and baked potatoes. Somehwere between the two, she dedicates the rest of her time to the music industry.

nikole jewell [email protected] leash-baby.tumblr.com

shannon keelan [email protected] is a Boston based artist getting her bachelor’s degree in communications and the-atre. You can expect a website of some sort when she gets her act together but for now you can email [email protected] if you’d like.

additional artist information

albert lagrange [email protected] strangescope.tumblr.comAlbert LaGrange is a film photography who’s goal is to capture the things you can’t remem-ber the next day, the way your body language changes when the person you think about at night enters the room, and the places you go when you are sick of your hometown.

mollie o’leary [email protected] O’Leary grew up in Weymouth, Massachusetts, an urban town south of Boston. he is currently a sophomore at Kenyon College in central Ohio. She plans to major in English with a concentration in creative writing and a minor in Philosophy.


inquiries // submissions

[email protected]

SUBMIT: Issue No. 6Field Notes is always seeking art and written work, under the broadest of definitions, from as many willing voices as possible. If you have put yourself and your experiences into some printable form, please do not hesitate to send it our way.

Issue No. 6 will be centered around beginners - an experiment in expressing yourself outside of a form you’ve already developed skills in. This prompt is relatively simple in direction, however can yield an infinite number of possi-bilities. The only requirement is that whatever you submit should be in a form or medium you are not well-versed in by any stretch of the imagination.

More detailed information on the prompt, submission guidelines, and due dates can be found on our website.

To ensure your work will be reviewed and accepted in a timely manner, please submit no later than September 1st, 2015.

We look forward to hearing from you.

SUBMIT: Issue No. 6

field notesissue no. 005

Field Notes No. 005 // Staining Light

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