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Entries Tagged as 'Experimental'

Mental Landscapes

Rachel Lipscomb experiments with intuitive photography

November 2nd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

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Rachel Lipscomb has been a photographer for six years. She knew instantly that it was her passion and applied for the Photographic Imaging Program at the community college in Lansing, MI. Since graduating, she’s done her share of traveling, shooting photos, and creating fine art.

“My more recent work is very intuitive,” says Lipscomb. “I am trying to communicate emotion and describe the mental environment.”

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Week of the Steeple

September 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

Once a week, Quinn walks up the hill to visit Arbelia. He brings her chocolate bars and inquiries. Quinn is 25 years old. Born in a big room in a small town, brought round the states, ‘sbeen soaking it up and wringing it out. Arbelia is 80 years old. A poet, shaman, songwriter, biker, gardener, mother and grandmother, she has been incarcerated for 25 years. Quinn has been learning to sail. Arbelia has been painting landscapes.

It has occurred to me that I might be able to get in there as an outsider and unify and belong but to not stop belonging to anything, everything and nothing.

They were introduced by a mutual friend and have been visiting for a year and a half or so. They have created a cushion of mutual respect. A true place to start to speak from. They’ve been calling it traveling. With work and play and wordplay long the way. So once a week, Quinn heads down to the prison for a brief and precious visitation and he and Arbelia hit the road together.

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→ No CommentsTags: Fiction · · ·

To Know it Young

September 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

Rusted globs roll boorishly from the roof,
collect,
glimmer,
and fall seven flights
to pulse squandered rhythm onto the alley.
But oh, to know it young
like a Beat ideal.
To speak in the loosened voice
of nowhere glances.
To say,
“Typhoon
with nothing short of screams for all this beautiful young life
that drowns in cirrhosis like cheap wine.” [...]

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→ No CommentsTags: Poetry · ·

Week of the Shadow

May 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

Once a week, Quinn walks up the hill to visit Arbelia. He brings her books of photographs and mix tapes. Quinn is a 25-year-old curious cat born in a small town, brought ‘round the states, soaking it up and wringing it out. Arbelia is an 80-year-old sorceress, songwriter, biker, gardener, mother and Grandmother. She has been incarcerated for 25 years. Quinn has been learning piano. Arbelia has been writing her memoirs. They were introduced by a mutual friend and have been visiting for a year and a half or so. They have created a cushion of mutual respect. A true place to start to speak from. They’ve been calling it traveling. With work and play along the way. So once a week, Quinn heads down to the prison for a brief visitation and he and Arbelia hit the road together.

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→ No CommentsTags: Fiction ·

The Origin of Species

January 3rd, 2007 · Written by · No Comments

Metamorph

Life on Earth began as a gum wrapper made of aluminum, lying on a sidewalk; several stalks of peppermint grew inside it.

Human life began as a series of interruptions in global telecommunications—later explained as Sun spots. Our primary line of flight extends from a point (a mole on god’s face) and eventually intersects with a moment where it properly becomes an actual line of flight instead of a romantic novel:

a caterpillar is simply a caterpillar—it’s not a moth. [...]

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→ No CommentsTags: Poetry · · ·

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