Minding the Traces

Music, lyrics, and photographs by Bill Crandall. Get the song on Bandcamp: https://billcrandall.bandcamp.com

Social Justice, BLM, and Atlantika is a series of posts by Atlantika members that focus on the critical issues of race and social justice. The year 2020 has tragically brought together a pandemic with outsized impacts on communities of color and ongoing protests against the murder of George Floyd and the many others who have lost their lives as a result of racist violence. As our mission statement makes clear, Atlantika members have always valued “social responsibility, community, and nurturing a contemporary humanism through art.” However, in the wake of recent events, which are critical to the future of the nation and the world, Atlantika has renewed its commitment to make racial and social justice a lasting focal point -- and to do our part to bring about a powerful movement for change.

Bill Crandall

As an artist, I think a lot about relevance. I definitely admire straight-up beauty - which of course has its own relevance - but I try to challenge myself to create work that is truthful and brings itself to bear against our common challenges in some way. A dilemma is how direct to be. Shouty didacticism won’t win many converts, and can be boring art. How do we get people to care? Usually I choose a more indirect approach, wrapped in beauty and humanity as a lure before the relevance-trap snaps the viewer’s fingers. Hopefully they’ll start caring before they even realize it, before they can activate their defenses to caring.

I’ve been writing songs in the past several years, often with loose conceptual threads to relevance, but after George Floyd I knew I needed something more direct. I was angry. I picked up a guitar and quickly banged out a couple of fast, driving, chord progressions with a sketch of melody. That’s usually where I start. The lyrics didn’t come right away, not until I gave myself a deadline to finish before a small concert I was part of in my front yard for neighbors (which during COVID counted as a major live-music event).

I still resisted being too direct. I figured if A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall can be a protest song, there’s room for nuance, word play, and ambiguity. I wanted to speak to the culture of white supremacy that’s killing black people. I’ve been learning in racial equity work I’ve been doing, it’s not the shark (overt racists), it’s the water (white dominant culture that suffuses everything). White culture is not bad in itself, there is much I dearly love about it. But there has to be a more inclusive re-balancing. And yes, we are going to have to give something up to do that. It’s the only way forward.

White privilege does not mean whites have easy lives. But if what was happening to blacks was happening to whites there would be a revolution. So if it’s that bad, which it is, we can’t tolerate these conditions for anyone if we ourselves wouldn’t tolerate them. Otherwise we are willing, complicit oppressors based on self-interest, not wanting to give up a shred of power even to save the lives of our fellow humans. The way white people are raising and conditioning their children - whether intentionally or not, it’s not about intention - is creating the George Floyds of tomorrow. We all have work to do, but many if not most white people, even on the left, refuse to see it.

So the words touch on that. The sense of futility watching another black life snuffed out before our eyes, all that’s left is “minding the traces” as witnesses. The world recoiling from us in horror, as they see how little we value human life, how far we’ve fallen from moral anchors. The arc from slavery’s abuses revealed in scars, to today’s revealed on screens.

For the video imagery, I dug into my project archives. I realized I have quite a number of photos of black people, black lives, that matter to me. Some are of my family, which is interracial. Some are of strangers in fleeting moments of resonance. They don’t show black people at their worst, deserving our condescending pity. Nor are they sugarcoated. They are complex lives, full of mystery, joy, dignity, and hardship. In other words, ordinary lives worth caring about. I hope black people can recognize themselves in affirming ways, and white people find themselves drawn into the images - and caring before the trap snaps shut. I do it for my biracial daughter, my ‘silver girl’.

Fallen

Fallen on the street

And all the girls you know

Are wasting their time

Calling on your phone

Calling out to stop

And minding the traces

Blue from sticks and stones

And all the world you know

Is reeling us out

Finding that a breath here

Like a life

Is too expensive

If the fallen could be you

And the wasting could be mine

Then you’d say it’s too many times

And the fear of what could break

In the lives that you made

Keeps your mind on autopilot

From the raw backs of the owned

To the new blood on the phone

A silver girl can’t face these times, so I rise

We rise

If the fallen could be you

And the wasting could be mine

Then you’d say it’s too many times

And the fear of what could break

In the lives that you made

Keeps your mind on autopilot

Social Justice, BLM, and Atlantika: Billy Friebele and Yam Chew Oh

“Random Access Remix of ‘The Three Dimension of a Complete Life’ by Martin Luther King, Jr.,” Billy Friebele, 3D PLA Print from 3D scan of a bust of Martin Luther King, Jr., arduino, thermal printer, hardwood, hardware, 2016.

The year 2020 made us breathless. It unexpectedly brought together a deadly respiratory pandemic with George Floyd’s plaintive cry, “I can’t breathe.” We are witnesses to an ongoing catastrophe in which more than 805,000 people have already lost their lives around the world, including more than 176,000 in the US, with a special concentration of loss in communities of color. We also witnessed worldwide protests against the murder of George Floyd and the many others who have lost their lives as a result of racist violence.

Now there’s a question everyone should be asking themselves. The pandemic continues to threaten the entire world but especially poor and minority communities. The protests, although they continue, have died down a bit. What will each of us do to help the world breathe? To end racism, to safeguard Black lives, and to create a lasting movement toward social justice? After all, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. himself believed that the fight against racism is inextricably connected to one for social justice.

Atlantika Collective was formed not only as a means to engage collaboratively with artists, writers, curators, educators and thinkers, but to take a stand on “social responsibility, community, and nurturing a contemporary humanism through art.” Of course, none of Atlantika’s members is laboring under the illusion that our contributions will in and of themselves turn the tide on racism or social justice. However, we do perceive that, if each and every one of us who cares about the future finds a way to make a meaningful contribution, the results can be transformative. 

That’s why, in the weeks ahead, we’ll be sharing projects that Atlantika members have already created that focus on fighting racism or agitating for social justice. This new series, Social Justice, BLM, and Atlantika, is an effort to assert that these issues matter so much to our common future that they must continue to be a focal point for the foreseeable future, beyond the current round of protests and beyond the 2020 election. It signals a renewed commitment on the part of the entire Collective to make this subject a lasting focal point -- and to do our part to bring about a powerful worldwide movement for change.

In this first post, we explore the common ground between socially conscious works created by two Atlantika members whose work is often expressed through sculpture: Billy Friebele and Yam Chew Oh. 

Artwork by Billy Friebele and Yam Chew Oh, text by Mark Isaac

When Atlantika members recently began to discuss racial and social justice as a group, we quickly found an unexpected harmony and dialogue between two sculptural works created by members Billy Friebele and Yam Chew Oh. Both works are focused on issues of racial harmony, both involve the use of sculptural busts, both are based heavily on a prominent written text, and both were created in 2016. 

Billy Friebele’s piece, created during a residency at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial Library in Washington, DC, in 2016 combines a 3D print of a bust of King with a machine that allows viewers to press a button and receive a printout of a random portion of his sermon, The Three Dimensions of a Complete Life, delivered at New Covenant Baptist Church, Chicago, Illinois, on April 9, 1967. In an interactive experience, viewers can tear off a random part of the speech and take it away with them as a reminder of what King had to say about creating balance in one’s life between self-interest, the welfare of others, and attention to the spiritual. In this speech, King eloquently suggests that a life lived only to advance the self is woefully incomplete, and that humans find their full expression only in reaching out to others and to God.

Installation views of “Random Access Remix of ‘The Three Dimension of a Complete Life’ by Martin Luther King, Jr.,” Billy Friebele, 3D PLA Print from 3D scan of a bust of Martin Luther King, Jr., arduino, thermal printer, hardwood, hardware, 2016.

Yam Chew Oh’s work is similarly based on a famous text -- in this case W.H. Auden’s poem titled, September 1, 1939, composed during the first few days of World War II. The poem was disavowed by Auden, who both altered and removed its most famous phrase, “We must love one another or die.” But it gained an ardent following despite Auden’s misgivings and has become a popular favorite, and one of the most famous poems dealing with the subject of war. It’s lasting impact was evident when it was often invoked in response to the attacks of September 11, 2001.

View fullsize

We must love each other or die, Yam Chew Oh, mixed media, 16 x 18 x 20 inches, 2016.

In Oh’s sculpture titled “We must love each other or die,” two busts, one black and one white, face each other from less than an inch apart. Placed on a common platform split in the middle, they resemble giant opposing chess pieces confronting each other with heads tilted back in an eternal standoff. And yet, linked with thin strings in a rainbow of hues that inextricably bind them together, they are also drawn to each other and appear on the brink of a kiss.

King’s 1967 sermon focuses extensively on the importance of providing aid and sustenance to others. “Somewhere along the way,” he admonishes, “we must learn that there is nothing greater than to do something for others.” 

We must love each other or die (detail), Yam Chew Oh, mixed media, 16 x 18 x 20 inches, 2016.

Auden’s poem is mostly filled with a lament concerning the pathologies that have led to the advent of World War II, but it ends with a plea that he, among those who yearn for “the Just,” may fulfill some higher purpose: 

May I, composed like them

Of Eros and of dust,

Beleaguered by the same

Negation and despair,

Show an affirming flame. 

So both of the works by Friebele and Oh, finding inspiration in cultural masters, represent a calling to our higher selves. And in the context of current events, there can be no loftier aspiration than that of contributing to racial harmony and social justice. Although powerful forces relentlessly try to draw us away from this goal, we are only fully realized when we pursue it. And despite those who repeatedly try to draw us into conflict and separateness, we are only fully human when we embody love.

Paragon of Piety

Yam Chew Oh

In my sculptures, I employ the physicality and metaphorical potential of found or used materials to tell personal and familial stories.

My late father was a karung guni man, the Singapore equivalent of the rag-and-bone or junk man. [1] Growing up helping him with his trade had a deep impact on my love for ordinary and humble materials.

My mother had a hard life. She left Malaysia at 14 to work in Singapore so that she could help to support my grandparents, who were so poor they had to sell and give some of their 13 children up for adoption, and let a few of them die because they could not afford medication.

The Vow, acrylic paint on Post-it, anniversary bouquet ribbon, used grocery packaging, found wooden stick and metal mesh, and pin. Approx. 40 x 13 x 2 1/2 inches, 2018.

Mom is illiterate because my Grandpa felt that education was wasted on girls. But, my Grandma wanted Mom to “at least know how to write [her] own name,” so she sent her to a village tutor. Sadly, Mom gave up after a few lessons because she could not bear to see Grandma fending off lewd advances from lecherous village men the many nights she walked miles (with an oil lamp strapped to her forehead for light) to pick Mom up after class.

At 28, Mom married Dad, then a bread seller. We lived in an attap house [2] with my cousins and their four families. Mom bore Dad seven children and, even though she was trained as a seamstress, took on for years the bulk of the child-rearing duties while helping him with his odd jobs, as well as the back-breaking responsibilities for the family's pigs and poultry. When Dad had his first stroke, Mom was his sole caregiver for years. Nineteen years after he died from his third attack, Mom remains Dad's loyal widow—to remarry is unthinkable for someone who was raised to abide by age-old traditions; to question them would be sacrilegious. Mom is the exemplary "twenty-four paragons of filial piety wife” (二十四孝妻子), steadfast and unwavering in her duties as wife and mother. She wants her children to speak her late husband’s dialect (Hokkien) instead of hers (Teochew) because we must honor Dad - the patriarchal line - even though he is no longer with us.

The laundry handicap, used laundromat hangers and foam protective packaging, found bike bottle cage, dimensions variable, 2018.

I wish Mom could relax and enjoy her golden years, but to chill out and put her feet up are alien concepts to someone who has lived an arduous life bound by selfless duty to her family, and trapped under the weight of tradition, superstition, loyalty, and honor. She is helplessly preoccupied with the banal chores of daily living, such as laundry. I am still trying to comprehend why she could not just “let go” and not be consumed by housework and perpetual worries for her seven children, their six partners, and her four grandchildren. Even though Mom is incredibly resilient for her age and slight build, I worry for her when I think about how much more she could tolerate in her grueling life. Thankfully, she is beginning to understand the importance of self-care; the pandemic has impressed upon her a sense of urgency.

I have nothing but profound admiration and love for this amazing woman—without the privilege of an education, how she has managed to navigate this world for the last 76 years, with seven children in tow, is a miracle to me.

The widow’s lot, used cardboard photo frame corners, found mirror backing and scrap wood, 32 1/8 x 21 2/8 x 3 1/8 inches, 2018.

[1] The karung guni man is the Singapore equivalent of the 19th century rag-and-bone man in the UK, who scavenged unwanted rags, bones, metal, and other waste from the towns and cities where they lived and sold them to merchants. In America, they are called junk men, and in many developing countries, waste pickers. Karung guni are the Malay words for gunny/burlap sack, which was used in the past by Singapore karung guni men to hold the used newspaper they collected for resale. 

[2] The attap house is a traditional dwelling named after the attap palm (commonly known as the nipa or mangrove palm), which provides the wattle for the walls, and the leaves with which their roofs are thatched (the craft of building a roof with dry vegetation).

The Fish Cycle / Рыбный цикл

Valery Kondakov / Валерий Кондаков

Valery Kondakov, a contributor to Atlantika Collective, is a reclusive Siberian artist practicing in Eastern Siberia. His practice is extremely diverse, embracing painting, graphics, sculpture, decorative art, literature, and poetry. "The Fish Cycle" includes images of fish that were painted over an extended period of time. Kondakov writes, "This idea came to me 10 years ago. I gradually collected images, connecting them with situations in the community. So this cycle was composed." Kondakov's work can be described as neo-archaic, a movement in art that focuses on modern interpretations of the myth and ethnic roots of indigenous people in Siberia. In this series, the fish seem involved in all aspects of everyday life, from relationships to recreation to duplicity and scheming to the spiritual realm. And as the fish surface in our everyday life situations, they seem to inquire as to what kind of life we will choose: one that safeguards the natural world and each other, or something more nefarious? For more on Valery Kondakov and his artwork, please see our Members page.

Валерий Кондаков, сотрудник коллектива «Атлантика», сибирский художник-затворник, практикующий в Восточной Сибири. Его практика чрезвычайно разнообразна, она охватывает живопись, графику, скульптуру, декоративное искусство, литературу и поэзию. «Рыбный цикл» включает в себя изображения рыб, которые были нарисованы в течение длительного периода времени. Кондаков пишет: «Эта идея пришла ко мне 10 лет назад. Я постепенно собирал изображения, связывая их с ситуациями в обществе. Так что этот цикл был составлен». Работу Кондакова можно охарактеризовать как неоархаическое, движение в искусстве, которое фокусируется на современных интерпретациях мифа и этнических корней коренных народов Сибири. В этой серии рыбы кажутся вовлеченными во все аспекты повседневной жизни, от отношений до отдыха, от двуличия и интриги до духовного царства. И, по мере того, как рыбы появляются в наших повседневных жизненных ситуациях, они, кажется, спрашивают, какую жизнь мы выберем: ту, которая защищает мир природы и друг друга, или что-то более гнусное? Более подробную информацию о Валерии Кондакове и его работах можно найти на нашей странице участников.

“Fish-23,” 70 cm x 90 cm

"Рыбы-23" 70х90 х., м.

“Fish,” 46 cm x 35 cm

"Рыбы " 46х35 х., м.

“Fish-1’" 87.5 cm х 58 cm

Рыбы - 1" 87.5х58 х., м.

“Fish-15” 47 cm х 45 cm

"Рыбы-15" 47х45 х., м.

“Fish-14,” 55 cm x 79 cm

"Рыбы - 14" 55х79 х., м.

"We are not fish. Fish are mute," 33 cm x 82 cm, acrylic. '“Mute means silent. With your indifferent and obedient silence, meanness is easily committed.”.

"Мы - не рыбы. Рыбы немы." 33х82 х., м., акрил. “Немы - означает молчаливые. При твоём равнодушном и покорном молчании легко совершается подлость.”

"Fish-3" 43 cm x54 cm

"Рыбы-3" 43x54

The Indisputability of Spiritual Presence / Неоспоримость духовного присутствия

New artwork by Valery Kondakov / Новая работа Валерия Кондакова

"Red nails," sculpture, 75 × 80 × 49 cm, metal, wood, acrylic, 2020. The "red nails" are good and evil, democracy and power, the crucifixion of truth, these are thorns and freedom.

Скульптура. "Красные гвозди " 75×80×49 металл, дерево, акрил. 2020г. "Красные гвозди" - это добро и зло, демократия и власть, распятие истины, это тернии и свобода.

Atlantika Collective invites the participation of a wide variety of creative people from around the world, and we are pleased to welcome the participation of Valery Kondakov, a reclusive Siberian artist practicing in Nizhneangarsk, a town at the far northernmost point of Lake Baikal in Eastern Siberia. Kondakov’s practice is extremely diverse, embracing painting, graphics, sculpture, decorative art, literature, and poetry. His work , which has been exhibited in St. Petersburg, Moscow, Krasnoyarsk, Novosibirsk, and Dresden, may be described as neo-archaic, a movement in art that is “based on the artists turning to the archaeological heritage, to the myth and ethnic roots of cultures of the peoples of Siberia,” according to Russian anthropologist Anna Sirina. Kondakov himself describes a mystical experience in which he was selected by the spirits to pursue art that affirms his ancestry as an Evenk, and adopted the pseudonym “Ewi Enk.” Atlantika Collective members Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac met Kondakov in his hometown in 2019 and visited his studio. Enthralled with the quality of his work, its indisputable connection to his ancestors, and the purity of his spirit, they stayed in touch and now invite more of the world to become familiar with his oeuvre. For more on the artist’s background, see our Members and Contributors page.

Коллектив Атлантика приглашает к участию самых разных творческих людей со всего мира, и мы рады приветствовать участие Валерия Кондакова, сибирского художника-затворника, практикующего в Нижнеангарске, городе в самой северной точке Байкала в Восточной Сибири. , Практика Кондакова чрезвычайно разнообразна, она охватывает живопись, графику, скульптуру, декоративное искусство, литературу и поэзию. Его работы, которые выставлялись в Санкт-Петербурге, Москве, Красноярске, Новосибирске и Дрездене, можно охарактеризовать как неоархаическое, движение в искусстве, «основанное на художниках, обращающихся к археологическому наследию, к мифу и этнические корни культур народов Сибири », - считает российский антрополог Анна Сирина. Сам Кондаков описывает мистический опыт, в котором духи выбрали его для занятия искусством, которое подтверждает его происхождение как эвенка, и принял псевдоним «Эви Энк». Члены коллектива Atiantika Габриэла Булисова и Марк Исаак встретили Кондакова в его родном городе в 2019 году и посетили его студию. Увлеченные качеством его работы, его неоспоримой связью с его предками и чистотой его духа, они поддерживали связь и теперь приглашают больше людей познакомиться с его творчеством. Для получения дополнительной информации о художнике см. Нашу страницу «Авторы».

"Sunday" - a look at the essence of the original. The indisputability of spiritual presence.

"Воскресный день" - взгляд на сущность изначального. Неоспоримость духовного присутствия.

"It was. It is. It will be," 94 x 85 cm, copper, metal, technical details, epoxy.

"Было. Есть. Будет. " 94 х 85, медь, металл, технические детали, эпоксидная смола.

"Subconscious Something," 80 x 54 x 16 cm, copper, gypsum, metal, horse hair. “This Something lives in each of us.”

"Подсознательное Нечто " 80х54х16 медь, гипс, металл, конский волос. "Это Нечто живёт в каждом из нас.”

"In the winter sky," 25x37, acrylic, mascara, feather. “Our dreams”

“В зимнем небе," 25х37, акрил, тушь, перо. “Наши мечты.”

"TV News," 37 x 52 x 28 cm installation. “We must learn to see, hear and listen.”

"Новости ТВ" 37х52х28 инсталляция. “Надо учиться видеть, слышать и слушать.”

"Narrator," 85 x 103 cm, canvas, sewing, cord, thread, leather, wood, oil. “A character in Evenk life with a fabulous effect.”

"Сказитель" 85х103, холст, шитье, шнур, нить, кожа, дерево, масло. “Персонаж в эвенкийском быту со сказочным эффектом.”

Don't Freeze on Warming

Gabriela Bulisova & Mark Isaac

One day, we woke up and an African-American man was President. One day, we woke up and gay marriage was legal. One day, we woke up and the majority of Americans supported Black Lives Matter. When will we wake up on climate change?

You’ve probably already tuned in to one of the many commentators saying the pandemic can be an inflection point, and we don’t have to go back to the way it was. But on the other hand, isn’t a return to normal what most of us want? Shouldn’t we use the car now because it’s not safe on public transit? When can we drive to the beach or get back in an airplane? When will things get back to the way they were?

When fear of the virus finally lifts, when it’s truly safe to drink in a bar, eat in a restaurant, pray in a church, take in a concert, and go to a football game without a mask and without distancing, we could pretend that things are back to normal. But it would be magical thinking. 

In June, it was 88 degrees in a small village on the Arctic Circle called Russkoye Ustye. Most summers, they use snowmobiles to get around. In Siberia, where temperatures are increasing almost twice as fast as other parts of the world, temperatures were almost 20 degrees above average in May. The latest research shows that, even with strong climate action, there will likely be a total loss of summer sea ice in the Arctic before 2050.

The Irkutsk skyline in Eastern Siberia is darkened by smoke from distant wildfires in July 2019. Also shown is the damage done to nearby forests by wildfires. In the summer of 2019, forest fires the size of the nation of Belgium destroyed precious woodlands across Siberia. Similar fires this year started much earlier and threaten to compound the damage.

Last July, as we finished our Fulbright grant focused on Lake Baikal in Siberia, wildfires the size of the country of Belgium were consuming Russian forests. The smoke wafted across thousands of kilometers and entered Irkutsk, the city we were living in, turning the skies into a murky haze. This year, after we won a second Fulbright to Russia (already delayed due to the pandemic), the fires got off to a much earlier start, consuming vast swaths of these precious forests as early as April.

And the melting of permafrost is accelerating. In Siberia, Canada, Alaska, and other northern territories, roads are buckling, buildings are cracking, and most threatening of all, vast quantities of methane risk being released, with the potential to accelerate warming in a “feedback effect.” 

Shallow Frieze is a collection of experimental photographs that we created of Lake Baikal’s landscape that were frozen in ice and then rephotographed during a melting process. These photographs directly comment on the problem of global warming, which is occurring more rapidly in Siberia than most places in the world. Research by Russian and international scientists demonstrates that Baikal’s ice cover, critical to its many endemic species, is significantly shorter and thinner than a century ago. These warming trends are already contributing to changes in the Lake’s precious ecosystem, from tiny plankton to the world’s only freshwater seal.

It’s comforting to think of getting back to normal, but we’re already marooned somewhere quite distant from that. And rather than try to get back, we need to fight our way forward to a new place. Normal must be lashed, scraped, smashed, eliminated, excoriated, demolished.

And to do that, we need new paradigms, a leap forward, in our thinking. We got a glimpse of quieter, cleaner cities during lockdown. In the New York Times, Farhad Manjoo recently asked, "What about cities without cars?" Not as fanciful as we think, this solution has the potential to simultaneously clean the environment, save lives, expand park space, and improve health.

In the political realm, there’s always a tension between what we know we should do and what’s “politically realistic” given the power of the fossil fuel industry and its allies. But there’s considerable evidence now that the economy is moving faster than politicians. Recent studies show that solar and wind plants are already more economical, in every major market around the globe, than existing coal-fired plants. While regressive leaders cling to archaic paradigms in the hopes of solidifying their base and preserving dying jobs, a report issued in 2018 by, yes, the Trump Administration, makes it eminently clear that climate change could have a devastating impact on the American economy, eliminating as much as one-tenth of the nation’s GDP by the year 2100. 

The Green New Deal is often criticized for being too sweeping and unrealistic in part because it links climate change to social justice issues. But isn’t that exactly what the pandemic demonstrates? “I can’t breathe” are not just the dying words of George Floyd on the streets of Minneapolis, but they are the words of people of color dying from COVID-19 in disproportionate numbers, and they are the words of poor and working class people who are more frequently exposed to contaminants and pollution in the environment, causing serious health problems and premature death. (If this sounds like hyperbole, then be aware that more than 90 percent of people in the world breathe unhealthy air, causing 7 million deaths per year.)

Greta Thunberg is outspoken about the fairness issues at play in the climate crisis. She is quoted in Time Magazine recently saying, 

On average the CO2 emissions from one single Swede annually is the equivalent of 110 people from Mali in West Africa….The vast majority of the global population...are already living within the planetary boundaries….The climate and sustainability crisis is not a fair crisis. The ones who’ll be hit hardest from its consequences are often the ones who have done the least to cause the problem in the first place.

And while we all need to do our part and be willing to compromise on our lifestyle to limit greenhouse gas emissions, there’s a firm case to be made that the rich have outsized impacts, and need to be at the head of the line in making changes. Around the world, regardless of country, the wealthy often own several large houses, drive multiple cars long distance, fly frequently, and use energy at a rapid clip. As British scientist Kevin Anderson put it in the Guardian recently, “Globally the wealthiest 10% are responsible for half of all emissions, the wealthiest 20% for 70% of emissions.” 

If the rich were forced to cut their emissions to the level of an average citizen, Anderson estimates, we could cut greenhouse emissions by one-third. The catch, of course, is that wealthier citizens, industry leaders and top policymakers are among the most powerful and don’t easily embrace far-reaching changes, choosing to sublimate the fact that their own children are the ones who will be paying the proverbial piper. Anderson says, “Many senior academics, senior policymakers...have decided that it is unhelpful to rock the status quo boat and therefore choose to work within that political paradigm – they’ll push it as hard as they think it can go, but they repeatedly step back from questioning the paradigm itself.”

If climate change is not just an environmental issue, but a social justice issue, it forces us to consider how to claim more power so we can accelerate change. Recent history in the United States sadly does not suggest we’re good at maintaining meaningful movements. After all, what happened to Occupy Wall Street, The Women’s March, the March for Our Lives on gun violence, etc.? We don’t hear much about them anymore.

But it’s possible we’re in the middle of something a tad different. The Black Lives Matter protests, which occurred in hundreds of cities across America, are variously estimated to have included between 6 and 10 percent of all Americans, making it potentially the largest protest movement in US history. (That’s not counting the many solidarity protests abroad, including the one we joined in Bratislava, Slovakia.) 

Thousands gather for a Black Lives Matter solidarity protest in Bratislava, Slovakia, on June 13, 2020. Peaceful protesters gathered at the Square of the Slovak National Uprising, an important historic spot related to the fight against fascism, and marched to the US Embassy, where they heard speeches from African-Americans living in Slovakia and musical performances.

Although we don’t have the same revered leaders as we did in the 1960s in the heyday of the Civil Rights movement, we can learn from their strategies. Dr. Martin Luther King, for example, was indefatigable in pursuing protest and non-violent civil disobedience to demand and bring about lasting change. Less known is the fact that King himself was one of the first to closely link social justice and environmental justice issues. Now we need to follow through on Black Lives Matter, making desperately-needed and long overdue change in our criminal justice system, but we also need to go further, sustaining a long-term movement around environmental and economic justice.

Yes, we all need to vote, the presidency is especially important this time around. Just think about the American response to coronavirus, in which the president gathered fossil fuel moguls suffering from reduced demand and promised them he’s with them 1000 percent, versus the EU, which quickly pledged $800 billion to rebuild their economies differently. But our problems are too big to be resolved by one election. We must join our voices, create a lasting movement, and pursue paradigm-shifting changes through ballots, sustained protest and King’s (and Gandhi’s) powerful method of civil disobedience. 

There’s not a single thoughtful person who can’t step up their game, at least a tiny bit, during this demanding time. And artists, who can be meaningful influencers, are among those who have a responsibility to lead the way. Leaving room for a wide variety of approaches, Atlantika Collective has long prided itself on embracing a contemporary humanism and tackling socially conscious issues. In this time of coronavirus, Black Lives Matter, climate change and other pressing issues, you’ll see us take on more in this regard. You’ll also see some of us embracing direct action to accomplish change instead of relying solely on our artwork. Difficult times challenge us to do more. 

It’s tempting to freeze up and go back to the way things were. But this may be the most important moment in our lives. We must demand a share of power big enough to enact cathartic, transformational change: to eradicate the impact of racism in our justice system, revolutionize our environmental paradigm and save the planet. We must act and believe as if the politically impractical is not only possible but imperative. We must do this with rigor, consistency and perseverance. Only then will we wake up to a nation that is democratic and just -- and an economy that is clean, prosperous and fair.

The Martyred Jans of Czechoslovakia

Gabriela Bulisova & Mark Isaac

It was a long weekend in both the U.S. and the Czech Republic. While the U.S. celebrated its Independence Day in an atmosphere that was decidedly muted and uncertain, the Czech Republic celebrated its greatest religious reformer, Jan Hus, who was martyred in 1415.

The memorial to Jan Hus in Prague’s Old Town Square.

Hus was one of the first leaders of the reform movement in Christianity, long before better-known figures like Martin Luther. After calling for a series of changes in doctrine, Hus was excommunicated and eventually captured and burned at the stake by the church hierarchy. But local believers, called Hussites, defeated five papal crusades and lived true to Hus’s teachings until they came under the control of the Habsburg Monarchy in 1620.

We raise Hus’s memory not to make any point about theology, but to call further attention to the many notable figures who were capable of being powerfully true to their beliefs in this part of the world. Hus was given multiple chances to save his own life by recanting his beliefs. Instead, he is reported to have replied, "I would not for a chapel of gold retreat from the truth!" As flames engulfed him, he could be heard singing Psalms.

The photograph from Jan Palach’s student ID card.

But Jan Hus is not the only Central European Jan who was willing to die for his beliefs. Not far from the memorial to Hus in Prague’s Old Town Square is the site where Jan Palach, a student at Charles University, decided to make the ultimate sacrifice to protest the Soviet invasion and occupation of Czechoslovakia in 1968. Unnerved by the Prague Spring reforms of Alexander Dubcek, who sought “socialism with a human face,” the Soviets rolled tanks into Czechoslovakia and occupied the nation in August of that year. Five months later, distraught over the demoralization of the people of Czechoslovakia, Palach set himself on fire in protest and died several days later in a Prague hospital. His heroic act inspired several others to follow suit, both in Czechoslovakia and in other Warsaw Pact nations. One commentator called it, “arguably the most dramatic suicide of the 20th century.”

Images from a sculptural memorial to Jan Palach near the Vltava River in Prague.

Jan Kuciak, the Slovak investigative journalist who was shot to death as a result of his exposes of ties between Slovakia’s ruling party and organized crime. Photo: Eva Kubaniova, investigace.cz

And now, a third martyred Jan can be added to the list. Jan Kuciak, an investigative journalist who reported on corrupt ties between officials of the Smer (Direction) political party and organized crime in neighboring Slovakia, was shot to death in his house, along with his fiance, in February 2018. This brazen act sparked outrage throughout the nation and engendered some of the largest protests since the Velvet Revolution. After a lengthy investigation, several people have been tried for the murder, and the notorious businessman Martin Kocner, who was under investigation by Kuciak, is currently on trial for ordering his murder. Kuciak’s assassination led to a series of dramatic changes in Slovakia, including: the resignation of former Prime Minister Robert Fico; the election of the first female, progressive President, the remarkable Zuzana Caputova, who is committed to a reform agenda; and the downfall of the Smer Party in the most recent parliamentary election.

The fact that all three of these men are named Jan has not been lost on observers, and graffiti has appeared on the streets listing all their names together. But of course it is not a requirement to be named Jan to stand up for one’s beliefs, and it is certainly not a requirement to be male. A few days ago, we reported on the moving tribute that marked the 70th anniversary of the execution of Milada Horakova by the Communist Party in Czechoslovakia. Please read that post also for another story of superhuman Central European courage.

A memorial to Jan Kuciak and his fiance, Martina Kušnírová, in the Square of the Slovak National Uprising in Bratislava, Slovakia.

Now, on the occasion of Jan Hus Day, we venerate not only the three Jans, but the importance of free expression and conscience for all people. We know that in many places around the world, democracy is in decline, freedom of thought is evaporating, and journalists are subject to harassment and violence. One of those countries, sadly, is the United States, and it’s time to face up to that fact very directly. Now is a compelling moment to be inspired by those who sacrificed to defend these freedoms, and search for the right way to make our own, purposeful contributions.

When it comes to defending basic human rights and dignity, after all, it’s “Jan for all; all for Jan.”

Milada Horáková: A Czechoslovak Hero With Exceptional Courage

Mark Isaac & Gabriela Bulisova

One of the large banners currently hanging in Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic. Picturing Czechoslovak hero Milada Horáková, the banner reads, “Murdered by Communists.” The banners were installed to mark the 70th anniversary of her execution.

History is being written now, and it has rendered a verdict. This age calls on all of us to defend basic human rights and human dignity.

The signals are all around us, so numerous and prominent that they cannot be ignored. The continued brutal murders of people of color by law enforcement in the United States. The manner in which the coronavirus crisis impacts the poor and people of color much more than the privileged. The decline of democracy and the rise of increasingly autocratic rule in places like Hong Kong, Hungary, Brazil, the Philippines, the United States and elsewhere. The second economic recovery plan in just 12 years that very obviously prioritizes corporations and the rich over average people. 

But it’s not easy to know the best way to respond...or the lengths we are willing to go to make a stand for our principles. In the last few months, protesters in the United States risked arrest, brutality, and coronavirus by marching to fight racism. In the last few days, protesters in Hong Kong risked imprisonment and cruelty in the wake of the new Chinese security law that forcefully breaks China’s commitment to keep Hong Kong independent through 2047.

With these events in our minds, we arrived in the city of Prague, immediately noticing that the city was full of banners in red and black, all with the photograph of a woman, Milada Horáková, who has a very special place in Czechoslovak history.

Trained as a lawyer, she focused extensively on campaigning for social justice and for women’s rights. She first came to national prominence as a member of the resistance against Nazism during World War II. As a result of her resistance activities, she was tried by a German court, convicted, and held in concentration camps in Czechoslovakia and Germany until the war’s end, when she was liberated by American forces. She then returned to Czechoslovakia to continue her fight for freedom and democratic principles. 

In the years following the war, Czechoslovakia was in political turmoil, with Communists pressing for power. They tried first by democratic means but weren’t able to win a majority. So, in February 1948, with Soviet backing, the Communists took control of the government in a coup d’etat. By then a member of the Czechoslovak parliament, Horakova resigned in protest. And rather than leave the country, she continued to speak out in favor of political freedom for all. After extensive, unsuccessful efforts to persuade her to cooperate, the Communists eventually arrested her in 1949 and put her on trial for conspiracy to overthrow the regime.

Despite being physically and psychologically tortured in prison, Horáková refused for an extended period of time to confess to crimes she didn’t commit. Eventually, under extreme pressure, she did sign a confession and in a Stalinist show trial held in 1950, was sentenced to death along with several other “co-conspirators.” Although many notable figures from around the world, such as Albert Einstein, Eleanor Roosevelt and Winston Churchill, appealed for mercy on her behalf, Communist leader Klement Gottwald upheld her death sentence and Horáková was hung on June 27, 1950. Among her last words were these incredible sentences: “The birds are already waking up -- it is starting to dawn. I am going with my head held high.” As is the case with many executions, historically and in the present moment, the hanging was exceptionally brutal and continued for at least 13 minutes before Horáková died.

Although she confessed after being tortured, Horáková spoke eloquently at her trial, defending fundamental democratic principles. And so it was, a few days ago, that loudspeakers around Prague honored her memory by replaying critical moments in the trial. Without warning, on the morning of the 27th, the voice of the prosecutor could be heard across the entire city, accusing her of treason. And then Horáková’s voice rang out in all of Prague’s neighborhoods, strong and proud, declaring among other things, that “no one in this country has to be made to die or be imprisoned for their beliefs.”

Milada Horákova’s photographs from the time of her arrest in 1949, when she was charged with conspiracy to overthrow the Communist regime.

Mark didn’t understand Horáková’s precise words or those of the other trial participants, but it really wasn’t necessary to grasp her exact meaning. When she spoke, her fundamental decency, her courage, and her impassioned plea for freedom were universally recognizable, deeply moving, and awe-inspiring.

Milada Horáková was one of the rarest breed of people -- those who are willing to die to uphold their fundamental beliefs. As the world retreats from democracy, from treating people fairly, and from keeping people healthy, it is increasingly apparent that we must be a part of the resistance. Although most of us can never have as much courage as Milada Horáková had, we can strive to do a little more than we thought possible. And that will be a fitting way to honor her memory and the memory of other heros who have also lost their lives for reasons of conscience.

100 Years of Fortitude

Gabriela Bulisova

Atlantika Collective Member Gabriela Bulisova often takes on assignments on socially conscious issues. In her latest photo essay for Trix Magazine, she reports on the promising developments for women in politics in Slovakia, which is currently (like the United States) celebrating the centennial of women’s suffrage. In a startling development one year ago, an exemplary progressive woman, Zuzana Caputova, was elected President of this small Central European nation. As Gabriela’s reportage makes clear, not only is the President now the most beloved politician in the nation, with an approval rating of 74 percent, but she has inspired other women at all levels to demand their proper place in Slovakia’s political system. Caputova’s election may be a watershed moment that points the way toward gender equality in Slovakia, neighboring nations and around the world.

Please read the entire photo essay at Trix Magazine here: 100 Years of Fortitude.

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Roadside Attractions

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Bill Crandall

Viaduct began as an arts salon in my house in Takoma Park MD. I wanted to connect artists and audiences, support local indie music and art, and center discussion around the role of the artist and the relevance of art for our times.

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With the onset of the pandemic, I decided to take the salon outside as a tool for community resilience. “Roadside Attractions”, socially-distanced songs from the driveway, was born. A hyper-local model for live music in the COVID era. Artists confined to their homes were longing to perform, audiences were longing for that connection and resonance that live-streams don’t provide. By embracing the necessarily small - limiting mostly to an average of 20-30 nearby neighbors so far, who sit spread out across the street - it’s become a successful series with a range of top local acts. Recently we were offered co-sponsorship by the city of Takoma Parks arts program, which allowed me to pay the artists a decent honorarium. Which allows the events to become fundraisers for important causes, since artist pay is now covered.

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Kamyar Arsani (R) and Huda Asfour

Supporting artists and their work already felt like a noble cause - now it feels like a modest bit of direct action: channeling money to struggling artists, providing arts as community sustenance, and now a final layer of supporting social causes.

One of the first artists we had, Kamyar Arsani, said the fledgling model was the first to give him hope since the pandemic started, that it felt like the possible beginning of a movement.

The shows are live-streamed from the Viaduct Facebook group page. The events are also listed on my site here.

This week’s driveway set is by Arsen Sumbatyan and his jazz quartet. In the early days of COVID, our neighborhood noticed the sound of beautiful trumpet melodies wafting from what seemed a near distance. This happened over many days, often for hours at a time. It was magical, like a clarion call to something better. Finally we discovered this guy sitting in the open hatchback of his car in the center of a desolate parking lot a few blocks away. It was Arsen, who lived nearby and said he would go there just to keep in practice.

It was like an act of poetic defiance against the current reality. Which is what I hope for the Roadside Attractions series, especially as daily events continue to turn more grim, in ever more ways.

Trailer for the Film Adam / Трейлер к фильму «Адам»

Evgeny Masloboev / Евгений Маслобоев

This video is a short trailer for the film titled Adam, which is about the vibrations of clay and dust, and the vibration of the letter "A." The complete project is named "Star Alphabet," and it initially includes four short films: Adam, Light, Water, and String Theorem.

In this project, our creative team puts forward a hypothesis on the question of what language was spoken in the Garden of Eden - Angels, Animals, Plants, minerals, Man. I think it was a language of a single field of vibration, similar in structure and laws with the language of music. And more precisely -- improvisational music. In my view, of all languages existing on planet earth, the language of musical improvisation is closest to the language of the Garden of Eden.

The creative team of the filmmakers includes: Evgeny Masloboev, Ivan Milov, Stepan Turik, Olga Kurlykina, Andrey Zhuravlev, Arkady Olgin, Alexandra Poblinkova, Izolda Ferlikh, Lily Kananykhina, Polina Turik, Irina Lipovitskaya, Albert Faskhutdinov, Nikolay Legeido and Dmitry, Svetlana, and Ksenia of the Milov family. The project has the support of the shop Red Line, and the ceramic workshop "LES CERAMIC" (Irkutsk Ceramic Factory).

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Данное видео - это трейлер к кино-новелле "Адам". Новелла посвящена вибрациям глины и праха, вибрациям буквы "А"... Весь проект носит название "Звёздная Азбука". Изначально в него входит 4 кино-новеллы: "Адам", "Свет", "Вода" и "Теорема струн". 

В этом проекте наша творческая группа выдвигает гипотезу по вопросу: на каком языке общались в Эдемском Саду - Ангелы, животные, растения, минералы, Человек - ... думаю, это был язык единого поля вибраций, схожего по строению и законам с языком музыки. А если точнее - импровизационной музыки...Евгений Маслобоев: «Из всех языков, существующих на планете Земля, язык музыкальной импровизации – самый близкий к языку Эдемского Сада…»

Творческая группа создателей фильма: Евгений Маслобоев, Иван Милов,  Stepan Turik, Ольга Курлыкина, Андрей Журавлёв, Аркадий Ольгин, Александра Поблинкова, Izolda Ferlikh, Лиля Кананыхина, Полина Турик, Ирина Липовицкая, Альберт Фасхутдинов, Николай Легейдо и Дмитрий, Светлана, Ксения – семья Миловых. При поддержке: магазин "Красная Линия", керамическая мастерская "LES CERAMIC", ИКЗ (Иркутский Керамический Завод).

Slosh Cyphers on the Danube

Billy Friebele created a body of work focusing on urban waterways entitled Slosh Cyphers, which is a part of the Applied Forces group exhibition currently installed at the Arlington Arts Center. Due to the spread of COVID-19 the gallery is shuttered. This blog post is a way to continue sharing this work.

Danube River – from Bulgarian shore looking towards Romania

In the spring of 2018, I traveled to Bulgaria to attend the Culture and Energy Artist Residency, located in a farmhouse in the rural village of Shtraklevo. The closest city, Ruse, is on the banks of the Danube River, which forms the border between Bulgaria and Romania. My host, Hris Stomanyaka was super generous and allowed me to borrow her car in order to explore the area. There I found a very similar waterfront to the urban waterways near my home. Tangled knots of rusted steel, bits of industrial structure interwoven with the unruly natural growth and the persistent evidence of corrosion due to moisture.

Culture and Energy Residency house

The Danube river gave me the impression of immense resilience and a deep sense of history. The current was strong, and I watched plastic bottles and bits of trash rhythmically bob up and down as they were pulled fervently along. Collecting some of the discarded objects that washed up on the riverbanks I reconstructed a rudimentary drawing machine I had built for a river near my home outside of Washington, DC. 

The marks on paper captured time and movement, with lines forming as the water flowed, and dots in periods of rest. The restless energy created by passing barges rendered jittery scribbles. The lines reminded me of cartography, borders between water and land, and topography. When I showed these drawings to my Bulgarian hosts, Hris Stomanyaka and Plamen Yordanv they gave really insightful feedback and suggestions for future directions for the work. They also said, “You know those bottles are Romanian. They always wash up on our shores.” This comment stuck with me and it underscores the challenges facing this invaluable natural resource. When a river is a border, who protects it?

The Danube River is the most international waterway – almost 1,800 miles long, traveling through ten countries. A 2015 study in Austria found that 40 tons of microplastics are being transferred past the country’s border per year. An earlier study found that microplastics in this stretch of river outnumbers the number of fish larvae. This is all upriver from Bulgaria, so you can imagine how the amount increases downriver. Microplastics are often mistaken for food by wildlife and the surfaces of these tiny fragments can be breeding grounds for toxic pathogenic bacteria.

Meanwhile, there are some encouraging collaborations to protect the Danube River such as the International Commission for the Protection of the Danube River and the International Centre for Advanced Studies on River-Sea Systems. It will take coordinated efforts to fight the degradation.

Rusenski Lom, Basarbovo, Bulgaria

Thinking about the vast interconnectedness of this river as a border led me to explore the smaller waterways that feed into it. I traveled to the last major right tributary of the Danube in Basarbovo to repeat this process upstream. I again used found objects on-site to supplement my materials. The fact that plastic bottles can be found anywhere in the world is disturbing. The drawings produced here were less erratic as the calm stream flowed steadily. This little river, the Rusenski Lom, swelled with the wind and rippled from smaller movements like insects or leaves landing on the surface. I sat for three hours observing this smaller tributary, thinking about how water, fish, and plastics wander through the rocky terrain to join the larger swifter Danube, forming the Bulgarian/Romanian border before pouring out into the Danube Delta, and into the Black Sea.

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Left to Right: Slosh Cypher_02: Danube River - Ruse, Bulgaria, Slosh Cypher Installation, Slosh Cypher_03: Rusenski Lom - Basarbovo, Bulgaria

The drawings produced are two-dimensional records of a period of time, a compression, a truncated record. They only account for the surface of the water and ignores the depths, the history, environmental degradation, and the socio-political complexity of this aqueous border. This thin slice of time led me to consider the layers beneath the surface of the Danube River. The complicated history of Austria, Slovakia, Hungary, Croatia, Serbia Romania, Bulgaria, Moldova, and Ukraine are intertwined with this waterway.

There is something strange and poetic about a fluid border. In this time of increased nationalism, borders are being reinforced physically and psychologically, but the endless flow of water reminds us that the borders are mental creations, and nature erodes the static. Environmental threats cannot be cordoned off to one area. To address the plight of this natural resource collaboration across borders and disciplines will be necessary.

As an American visiting Bulgaria, I was in awe of the sense of immense human history and how it is tied to the land. The village of Shtraklevo felt timeless, like a frozen bubble. The village seemed to operate in rhythms more connected to the countryside. Ruins of castles, monasteries carved into the sides of cliffs, and remnants of Communist architecture form a layered collage of human traces on the landscape. What will our generation leave behind? Plastic bottles?

JOY ON FIRE // “UH HUH” // OFFICIAL VIDEO // 2020

Joy on Fire

“Uh Huh” is a protest song, during a protest year, during a baffling era.

The lead instrumentation—John Paul Carillo’s bass and guitar; Chris Olsen’s drums and percussion—alternates between harrowing restraint and thumping outcry. Anna Meadors plays the song’s dirge on her alto saxophone; the song, then, absorbs the universal lamentations of people who’ve been deprived of other people. When all four of us participate at once, including the howling vocals, there is a variety of madness that we could call liberation, or honesty. Listeners will be rewarded again and again by the virtuosity of the musicians. The outro, in particular, estimates the emotional quandary of marching forward, despite a societal environment that cannot remediate its own destructiveness.

“Uh Huh” refers to brothers in the universal sense: close and distant family, comrades, colleagues. We are protesting an inexcusable societal blight like gun crimes, on the one hand, but many protests can be echo-located in “Uh Huh.” (What’s your protest?) In the lyrics, a gun is pointed at an unarmed person. This fundamental inequality can transfer from one situation to another. You’re powerless at a crucial moment, you fear for your life, you lack a basic resource. You struggle to envision a future, uh huh.

The artists who created the video—Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac—have stamped their narrative on the song. By turns eerie, disturbing, and deeply righteous, the video commences with the thermal imagery of headless bodies trudging toward a blank destination, at an orderly pace, their backs to the viewer. Without being told, we know that many of them are doomed. There is a gun-scope encircling a partial portrait, and an incongruous flag unfurling, and a litter of human shapes strewn upon a stained ecosystem that’s struggling, itself, to persevere.

“De voi depinde,” said the poet Paul Celan: “It’s up to you.” What he meant was: the individual really matters. By design, the band does not appear. Our faces don’t outweigh the importance of the protest. What will our brothers be singing? What will our, what will our brothers be singing? If we deaden ourselves to loss, we’ll never challenge the status quo.

Play this song loud. Expect punk-jazz. Topple the establishment.

Joy on Fire is

John Paul Carillo (bass, guitar)

Anna Meadors (baritone and alto saxophones, vocals)

Chris Olsen (drums, percussion)

Dan Gutstein (lyrics, vocals)

“Uh Huh” composed by Carillo / Gutstein / Joy on Fire (2020)

Video by Gabriela Bulisova and Mark Isaac (2020)

http://www.joyonfire.com/

https://www.bulisova-isaac.com/

Exquisite Corps: Atlantika Edition

About Exquisite Corps: This is the Atlantika Collective edition of the original “Exquisite Corpse.”  Invented by surrealists, it is a method by which a collection of words or images is collectively assembled. Each collaborator adds to a composition in sequence, either by following a rule or by being allowed to see only the end of what the previous person contributed. More here: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exquisite_corpse.

Six people involved with Atlantika Collective have participated in Exquisite Corps in the following order: Billy Friebele, Gabriela Bulisova, Michelle Frankfurter, Jessica Zychowicz, Mark Isaac, Yam Chew Oh, and Todd Forsgren. The following text has also been created organically by the participants to accompany the piece.

A game began 100 years ago 

Players creating generative collaborative compositions

who are they?

what about their stories?

every bit,

E very bit,

e  v  e  r   y      b   i   t,

ponde r

pondr

rednop

.

.

.

.

Open close

The door swings on its hinges

                   closer in and then out.

They are all alone together again.

Just sitting there, smoking in the rain. 

Red sky at morning.“Sing a song of sixpence.”

The sparrow pecks at the windowpane.

Not this again.

Magnifying glasses for spectacles,The doctor pulls the numbers up like weeds in a field of wheat.

“A pocket full of rye.”

angle yourself really close

pinch the glove 

because that is  

down the hand 

how you can look 

important thing

perform hand hygiene

some distance away 

use soft boxes 

with interlaced fingers

absolutely the way

perform hand hygiene

from the skin 

without touching the skin 

slide the fingers

between the glove

of the forearm

perform hand hygiene

moment in time

find the perfect

turn inside out

skin of the wrist

perform hand hygiene

start things off 

allowing it to

bag or bin

and natural light

perform hand hygiene

away from the hand thus

folding it over the first 

lit from underneath

medicines and food 

palm to palm

perform hand hygiene

a big window

and vice versa

remove the second

mindful of that

in the gloved hand 

perform hand hygiene

hands with water

hold the removed 

folding it over 

light is to go

tips for doing

perform hand hygiene

here’s something 

wearing technique

opposing palms 

do the magic

rotational rubbing

perform hand hygiene

you’re not alone

separate bathrooms

fingers interlaced

fingers interlocked

always really happy

perform hand hygiene

turn off faucet

helpful for me 

find good lighting

find my magic spot

you’ll be like, wow

your hands are now safe

Staring at the screen, 

Pacing around the apartment,

Looking at the horizon,

One moment I’m overwhelmed,

The next I’m bored to death.

Flip flop flip flop flip flop repeat.

But strangely, the silver lining,

Is that some relationship flourish,

From a medium distance.

:)

Slow

Down

…

I n — h a l e

E x — h a l e

…

Beautiful corps

…

I am sitting in a room, different from the one you are in now….

America's Community & Urban Gardening

This post is part of a series by Todd Forsgren on his project Post-industrial Edens — photographs or urban and community gardens worldwide, which has been ongoing since 2004.

The popularity of urban and community gardens has seen a rapid rise around the world in the early 21st century. Gardeners cite a wide variety of reasons for this, from the practical and economic, to the political and philosophical. Globalization, and our increased awareness of abstract global issues, does indeed seem to be linked to an increasing number of people seeking this tangible and intimate connection to the landscape. 

A renewed interest in self-sufficiency and local/organically grown food is apparent in the developed world. Increasing food prices and shortages have encouraged those in the developing world to grow their own produce. As populations continue to rise and the climate changes, it seems inevitable that such gardening projects will become even more vital and these needs more pressing. 

While community-based agriculture has long been part of American culture, the allotment gardens reached their height during the Victory Garden program of World War II. During the war, gardens were planted according to a systematic plan for maximizing productivity from a small space. It is estimated that this popular program produced a full forty percent of vegetables consumed in the United States during the war, allowing more surplus food and resources to be sent overseas to support the troops.

Today, community gardening is seeing a large resurgence. These tiny plots of land can still be incredibly prolific: a carefully managed 20ft x 20ft garden can potentially grow $2000 worth of produce annually. The diversity of gardening practices currently seen in these spaces also suggests that community gardens possess other values to those who cultivate them.

 Despite this long-standing tradition, community gardens still exist in a manner quite novel to American land-use philosophy. Notably, our concept of land ownership, often thought of in terms of a public/private dichotomy, becomes much murkier within these gardens. The gardens run the gamut from individuals cultivating their own plot to land worked in a truly communal manner. Gardens are often created on abandoned lots or publicly owned land, where individuals can rent space for a nominal fee. Yet individual land ownership is often quite tenuous.

Perhaps due to this uncertainty and the initiative needed to start a garden, an especially strong sense of community often develops among the gardeners. These gardens often become central hubs of social integration. Conversely, the removal of this space from the ‘‘home”’ and ‘‘yard,” as well as the small financial obligation entailed, seem to lessen some of the sense of personal responsibility to maintain the garden. Meticulously managed plots are often next to plots that have been forgotten. In several instances, a particularly successful garden has even been blamed as a catalyst for gentrification of a neighborhood.

While some gardeners adopt the classic Victory Garden model, others employ more innovative and experimental gardening choices. Also, ideas from many other gardening traditions coexist in current community gardens, from English flower gardens to Japanese stone gardens. The modest scale of these spaces allows gardeners to personally re-connect to the land in their own way, but complete escape from the surrounding urban environment is impossible. The individual visions of community gardeners embrace everything from the pastoral ideal of the American landscape to a more realistic synthesis of this vernacular landscape.