Lamanna’s piece shares her recollections and observations of her Italian immigrant grandmother, who possessed a kind, loyal heart but a fiery personality.

Cynthia Lamanna loves her Grandma Littier – and may be reached at cynthialamanna@yahoo.com

Grandma Jenny Lyn Isabella; She was/is my beloved Grandmother, that I recall only in the misty early and part of middle childhood (she passed away when I was in my early teens); she slipped away from this world too young, in a veil of unanswered questions, resignation, and sadness, a faded beauty, slipping away before her time; she loved with the guilelessness of a child, and lived for her children’s dreams, and successes. She lit candles in the dark cathedrals. To her children, sisters, brothers, and in-laws, she was a lunar eclipse, and one in a million, with a beautiful smile shining like a rainbow through her soul’s darkest interludes.

By her later mid years, some of the spark and color of life had faded and drained out of her, and on the surface, she appeared a hollowed out version of the fully alive woman who loved so deeply, and would always be loved in return. In an inner battle between angels and demons she was sweet faced and volcanic-like; She would give her last loaf of bread, or harbor a refugee in an instant, but don’t cross her, or be stupid enough to downgrade her family, or shun her gift of love and good will. Without proper nutrition, and dental care, some of her teeth were worn down to little dark pebbles, and some were removed. Still, she was radiant.

In my earlier childhood, whenever my Mother told me that she and Grandpa would be coming for a visit, there would be a rejoicing. I would feel it all over, like a tingling of great joy, and I remember taking my sister by the hand whirling around with her in a frenzied circle dance and singing a little ditty I made up, (at the age of four). She would come and always with great adoration, and elfin mischievous joy would bestow upon us a little toy or treasure, retrieved from her full suitcase. It could be a dusted vintage toy from the past or an orange fruited candy; to see the look on her face was priceless.

It didn’t much matter to us what it was, for it was she herself our hearts yearned for and longed to see. As time went by, her visits grew fewer and farther between. For our lavish Christmas Eve traditions, usually in the home of my godmother-Aunt Julie-Ann, she was there celebrating with us, somewhere in the shadows, and light; still looming a large presence even in later childhood, when I don’t remember seeing her in visible form anymore.

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Blurred

Svelte little girls are running in circles

behind my eyes.

When I was blind everything was a blur

–      thin ankles looked thick.

My hair is falling out with the lines of age,

the lies of age and I hear a snicker behind my back.

I used to enjoy that snicker now it is a poison bullet.

Pretty bones and soft brown hair

and the dreams they promised to prepare.

I feel deflated.

I used to be fire.

Am I part of the exclusivity now?

I’m left waiting.

There is no reply.

…

…

There never will be til the day I die.

My lips are always painted but the colour has changed.

My pretty bones- milky white and raised.

How easy it was to return to default.

When imagination comes to a grinding halt.

You lied to me- your perfection

                           is obscene.

No one said you wake me from my dream.

The Operating Table.

Xerox faces staring back at me.

White walls mocking tranquility.

Chrome reflections morph the truth.

Scientists promise the fountain of youth.

Surgical steel and a rubber glove.

Bright lights grant halos from above.

Rushed into the quiet room.

The cleanliness of comatose doom.

From the world of plastic.

Copied expressions and stretched elastic.

White light and humming  to calm the mind.

Lobotomies and pleasantries strangle mankind.

By Danielle Searby.

31st of May, 2009.

Danielle Searby may be reached at violetpixie@optusnet.au and welcomes comments and feedback.

Tori and Mateo

Yesterday I taught blind and deaf children. They inspired me. The blind and deaf He’s given joy. I saw the girl. I heard the boy. They offered a gift. I received…I adored…For my sight and hearing I praise the Lord. I can see His creation and hear His songs. I can sing His praises all day long.
Tori and Mateo inspired. Mateo is deaf and has amazing facial expessions. I kept thinking of what it would be like to never hear a symphony or laughter. Oh God, I’m so grateful for my hearing. Tori had just a tiny bit of hearing and vision. She was in constant motion. She never stopped moving all day long. I had such a deep love for her and I barely knew her. I knew it was the love of Jesus. I thank God for these children who have so much to give.

Tennis Shoes on Telephone Wires

My art is an extension of my forecast into my future using images of the past and present which form my concepts and postulates for the future.

Color and movement are integral parts which I use to weave a tapestry of emotion and passion on my canvas. These are life, these are what makes up my future.

Tuaromachia (bullfighting) is a passion that more and more women breaking into and this is a future I paint, I breathe,I live for and execute. For nothing can emote that passion but the gusano in my blood when I face death, the toro, my art, the color, the passion.

I’ve painted for most my life and it has always been a refuge to explore and put into the future what I dream.

Please click on the link below for an illustrative music video showing Sally Larsen at work in her studio.

newworld-show01

San Francisco based artist Sally Larsen is currently compiling a collection of German photography of the indigenous peoples of North, Central, and South America, known as The German Eye In America, which she intends to be as exhaustive as possible and to explore cultural attitudes towards native people.

“We’re getting everyone, literally – since the invention of the camera. Famous or not, in order to determine how the Germans viewed Native Americans through the lens of photography,” said Larsen.

Larsen discovered her focus on the Germans organically through observation: she examined various books of photographs, both historical and contemporary, and continually encountered Germans. To her, the Germans of past and present were relatively respectful of the natives and did not merely exoticize them or intentionally pose them in primitive situations as Europeans of the time might have expected. The indigenous people in German pictures often reflect and convey dignity and inspire curiosity about their lifestyles, and Larsen speculates this may stem from aspects of literary Romanticism present within old and new German culture and aesthetics.

Larsen also pursues other artistic endeavours through a variety of media – painting, writing, video creation, and photography. She lists off quite a variety of personal and professional interests: “Japanese culture [Japlish, Pomegranate 1993], Chinese martial arts, European art and architecture, San Francisco, California water, New York City, DNA, entheogens, asian poetry, and Native America.” 

Each day’s changing circumstances, moods, and climate suggest which art form and project she will work on that day.

“Some days present themselves as painting days, others demand a camera. There are orotone days, and there are digital c print days. I envision an endpoint and proceed. There are guitar days, synthesizer days, computer days, travel days, and people days.”

She feels her blood – her way of thinking and living in the world as a gift and heritage from her ancestors – ties together her various projects.

Larsen says, “I’m mixed, part Apache, part Aleutic, part Norwegian. I appreciate diversity and I cultivate dimensionality. For instance, my Native American blood inclines me to consider Asian values. It is a consequence of my DNA.

To Larsen, art comes through a variety of forms, and a great craftsperson should not have an overly narrow focus.

“Nor is this only about how I feel. The impetus to master multiple expressions has long been part and parcel of being a serious artist. Leonardo da Vinci asserted ‘But since we know that painting embraces and contains within itself all things produced by nature or whatever results from man’s passing actions – and everything that can be taken in by the eyes – he seems to me to be a pitiful master who can only do one thing well.”

Megan Ford, the daughter of the woman who painted “Nesting,” featured in our May issue “Finding Your Place in the World,” sings for San Francisco Bay Area theater productions and musicals, and has entered a contest where she covers a Taylor Swift song and has a chance to meet music professionals.

You are all invited to take a look at the contest and her entry here: http://sanfrancisco.singliketaylorswift.com/video/meganford

I would love to see this young woman find mentors and professional folks to market and develop her talent, as she’s been singing for years and has performed in The Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, and other professional productions in the community outside of her high school.

Megan’s brother Michael creates graphic art – profiles of celebrities  and people he knows, along with animated characters of his own invention. He welcomes comments and feedback on his work, publicly available here: http://www.ratemydrawings.com/user/santacruiser/

He pursues art with great dedication, creating a new character or figure almost every day, and has improved steadily with perspective, shading, and other technical aspects of visual art.