Summer Stage Series
The Image Summer Stage is lively series of free online events with something for everyone in the Image community. Twice a week, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, we will present an eclectic mix of programming that features our editors and contributors from all over the world.
Home Alone Together
Every week for the next three months, twenty-five artists from around the world will contribute one photograph from a different part of their living spaces. Together, these photographs—whether taken in a kitchen, bedroom, or looking out a window—will articulate a new, collective picture of home in a time of pandemic.
The Glen Online
Part creative workshop, part arts festival, part spiritual retreat, the annual Glen Workshop is, above all, an ongoing experiment in creativity and community. And for the first time in our history, that experiment is going online.
Redeeming the Time
It’s not an accident that art finds us in these moments, or that we find art. Each week as part of our series “Redeeming the Time,” we will publish original essays, poems, and works from our editors and editorial advisors that speak to our current moment.
Inside: editorial advisor Dua Abbas Rizvi reflects on her family’s memories of India’s partition; a photo essay by S. Billie Mandle, who photographs Catholic confessionals; Pádraig Ó Tuama interviews former Jamaican poet laureate Lorna Goodison; Yudel Huberman on Hasidic forestry; Ted Gioia on how free online art traps artists, and more...
While we creatives apprentice ourselves to various crafts, aspiring to art that is “fine,” we might also look for subtle ways to decorate our daily lives with new intentionality. There is a training of the soul in the arts we live with.
this should be no wilderness
to be lost in
“‘Life has become better, comrades. Life has become happier!’”
In the sanctuary, I repeated a childhood prayer
I knew some of the words to. I’d skip
a lecture and want to skip them all—
that you commit some part of your mind and heart to an unshakeable belief in the logic of global capital, which means that on a smaller scale you commit some part of your mind and heart to an unshakeable belief in the necessity of placing a two-inch needle into an instrument panel over and over and over again,
As a queer woman raised Catholic, I have had a complex relationship to the church—making these photographs was part confession, part reconciliation.
is there a dove?
I certainly can’t
Leonardo is famous
for hiding things,
I used to keep my beliefs about hell tucked latent in the hidden place. After Joe died, they began to eat at their cupboard, like moths in a sweater drawer.
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And then I wonder: is this the quiet that dominates the life of all those people in hiding as well? The smallness, the excessive focus on detail, the mind going around in ever smaller circles? Will deeper thoughts and grand narratives only make themselves heard after this is all over?
In these days of world pandemic caused by something that can’t be seen by the naked eye, I’m coming around to seeing this song as one of faith in our interconnectedness, our interconnectivity. The songs and drumming drifting down from balconies to fill the streets in Rome can be heard echoing from rooftops and windows in Barcelona to Budapest, Ankara to Panama, New York City to Gurgaon. We all sing the same song, though in different keys.
Simone Weil once said that “Attention, taken to its highest degree, is the same thing as prayer.” On this sunny morning, getting up close to the wall, I’m beginning to understand what she means.
Today I share some of our family’s favorites—stories that reflect the power of community, the value of resilience, and the possibilities of hope—all with enough depth to engage even the adults in your family.
We say flattening fattening smashing the; and do I look sexy (chin’s up, buttercup) in my balaclava? We say what is ZOOM, then we Zoom. We say zoom is malware (but it’s all malware). Check this box if you are not a robot, now do you wanna zoom?
My crime? The sins of pride, indifference, sloth,
Not ceaseless prayer to rid myself of pain.
For I was taught to regard suffering
As integral to everything that mattered—
Life, love, and faith, all of which were found wanting.
And so I want to start again. Or not.
Churches, synagogues, and other places of worship have had to close at a time when faith and the comfort of community are needed most. But faith finds a way to lift us, even from a distance.
In the midst of a viral pandemic that has shuttered schools and universities, why go on writing essays about the syntactical anomalies of Emily Dickinson’s poetry, or learning when and how to use the French subjunctive tense, when humanity itself is threatened by a massive, though microscopic, enemy?