Mother-Survivor at the Gates of Dawn: An Icon In Contemporary Art
By Visual Art Issue 130
A WEIGHTY COWHIDE over a coatrack. A mighty African woman adorned with elephant dung. A disheveled Latvian man indifferently stuffing an apple into a child’s mouth. All of these are contemporary renderings of the Virgin Mary (by Dorothy Cross, Chris Ofilli, and Ance Eikena, respectively). Over the past decade, the Western visual art scene has…
Read MoreMonterchi, 1983
By Poetry Issue 120
Yes to mortal love and anguish.
Read MoreRule Out
By Fiction Issue 117
So much wine—wine with food and wine without, wine while they watched the kids play in the yard and when it was just the women together on a Monday night.
Read MoreMy Life as a Gambler
By Essay Issue 115
I had wagered more than I could afford to lose on the probability that God was a friend to the orphan and a protector of the vulnerable.
Read MoreMy Mother, on Horseback, in a Blizzard
By Poetry Issue 112
She has lived / six years on planet earth, and like other / children of the storm has been advised, The horse will bring you home.
Read MoreSome Flowers for My Mother
By Poetry Issue 112
never mind
the fickleness of the light
here, the damp that would
a more flimsily
rooted loveliness
drown.
Aparture
By Essay Issue 111
In ballet class they were always chiding us to not allow the difficulty of the act to be expressed in the hands… We girls were being taught the art of concealing art, ars est celare artem, the method wherein obfuscation becomes a weft to gird the warp of technique.
Read MoreMoth Light
By Fiction Issue 109
But it unfolded itself, and, like a long-held secret, its wings swelled wide enough to span her palm. Then she saw the color it had been keeping close: hind wings emblazoned with what shone like blue eyes, rimmed with gold and mounted on a concentric field of black.
Read MoreMotherhood: A Visual Contract
By Essay Issue 102
Leni Dothan examines and critiques how motherhood has been presented in western art history.
Read MoreThe Stand-In
By Short Story Issue 95
1 C AROLINE WAS PADDING, distracted and shoeless, through the weekday stillness of the empty church when she came upon Desmond’s wife standing on the other side of the back entrance. Framed by the double glass doors, Kim looked uncharacteristically small in an out-of-season winter jacket. Caroline offered up pastoral smile no. 6: Ironic Appreciation…
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