seasample of mint leaf ÷ matrix equation ÷ the end of the season ÷ relatively peaceful ÷ a raised stone basement ÷ beyond the clouds ÷ performance and precision ÷ the science of human history ÷ seen to be sympathetic ÷ this pathway is suppressed ÷ boob tube inanities ÷ wrecked off the coast ÷ completely in lowercase ÷ eternal dream ÷ group stage ÷ coach of the dragonflies ÷ superparticular ÷ all animals be stunned ÷ the variegated pink ÷ determiner of shoe size foamthe first machines to meet ʘ against kinetic energy ʘ symbols and markings ʘ making of answer ʘ see graphic ʘ a complete renovation ʘ tapering to a sharp point ʘ to peak at the same position ʘ the apparent similarity ʘ prefabricated buildings ʘ approved by the unicode ʘ philology and papyrology ʘ not available in most chain stores ʘ the mirror ʘ slender and slightly narrowed ʘ this good-versus-evil plot ʘ undone by reliability ʘ a symbol of the river ʘ water pistol ʘ in times of war ✱✱✱
MRCZ (Marcos) is a Brazilian artist born in 1991. He was born into a small town of ~3000 people and lived for years in a countryside house with his parents, which he believes to have changed him forever. He currently lives in the large city of Porto Alegre where he works in publicity. He started his artistic work in 2015, creating daily between college design courses and work. His main objective was to make something he could pour his entire heart into - to immerse himself completely. His productions are a way of expressing the challenges that come with the responsibilities of adulthood in a grand city. His inspirations include comics, music, the human mind and its gimmicks, philosophy, fiction and science. You can find more of his work here.
if i was 2 write a poem – no if no – hold on if i was to marry you have your baby carry your luggage through Heathrow trust allowing me to trim your moustache u trimming my sideburns - throwing out used collected tampons - hiding the remote letting u throw your farts at me the UFO sized plug – drain cover – listen to it whistle as the water trickles down in its insides too small – the hole too big to plug i will sit on it no that’s not grease from a sausage roll - don’t shake your fist it reminds me of – that is a water print from my scribbling hand love is burping freely no longer keeping hid typical – bodily what typical functions of the body shitting putting loo roll down first pissing the door shut eating with fist to mouth chewing silently - do it loud enough now to – wind you up watch you go love is heedless laughter wonder you are disgustingly lovely – my dear give us a kiss no no not an elbow in my ribs are u drunk yes ioz’m drunk look it is almost happy hour pisshead yourself would you rather i listen to your snoring fits n starts this won’t make sense later i’m always trying to be somebody as if i don’t quite fit myself i quiver in this shell \of flesh bones clumsy – difficult to control who reads the instructions i don’t understand Japanese i learnt French – in school but now all i can remember is bonjour and oral examinations which were never what i thought they may be and an enthusiastic teacher who had a voice which boomed and he was expressive in his gestures manner of a pm mp seemed to like me- he left suddenly a lot of people – familiar faces have left me without say so as if i didn’t need to be aware of their leaving but kind faces- encouraging voices do not often stay eventually they leave me with their lessons have i taken any of it in – still i walk the darkened pathway. ✱✱✱
"I’ve been fascinated with light and the mechanics of photography for a long time. This collection of photos was about trying to capture the flow of natural light, using the southern coasts of Cape Town, South Africa, as a subject. I wanted to try and capture the mood of the environment in Cape Town in winter: cold, rainy, brooding and wet. The exposures were long enough that the ocean ended up looking almost like clouds, smoky and flowing, rather than the crispness that comes with regular exposures. I prefer the process of taking landscapes on film and the texture that comes with the medium. Taking long exposures on film without any reference about the results is always a bit unnerving, but it’s also more exciting when you finally get back the images. Shooting with film also forces me to really slow down and carefully focus on the frame I want, as looking at the image I took and doing a quick correction of course isn’t possible. Every shot becomes more tangible. The way light moves is never really predictable, so getting back the negatives is, for me, a more interesting process than getting immediate feedback from a digital screen and then snapping off tons of pictures till you eventually get what you want. I’ve learnt to embrace the imperfections rather than dwell on them." ✱✱✱
oh my insides moved to a new city where fountains burst into cement my insides are on a time-change, i’m lagged the architecture is beautiful, my insides say i don’t understand the culture or the street signs, i reply oh you are the new city i’m not into this city, and no i can’t walk through walls, i’ve tried and most of the time windows keep you indoors so maybe i’ll change the buildings that hang from the sky into curtains you aren’t even a body you are a hallway of mirrors you are a backdrop a staged room to fool me to trust you oh you bring me to a room we hang our skin across from each other lay my organs in the closet as knotted stockings pour your blood on the bed as a duvet oh we look out the window at the buildings that hang from the sky at cities where water rushes upwards and buildings blow in the wind we crawl out the window and grope the tapestry we coil fingers knot histories and oh this new city oh ✱✱✱
giada cattaneo is an italian illustrator and word-lover with a strong italian accent. some call her "honey jade". she momved to miami after completing her bachelor's degree in history of contemporary art at the university of bolgna. she is passionate, positive and colourful. see more of her work here.
how do I describe this to you so you can begin to understand that I c a n n o t compromise my sanity anymore and must learn to compartmentalize and live with the clamoring in my skull. except that describing a migraine is the clinician’s job. if we gave it to the poet, how might she respond? case study #31: my mind feels like it took a dip into the aokigahara forest, but the skull feels like nick and jordan just met owl eyes in the library. file #a246zyx: herr doktor doktor, you keep telling me to express myself, so here goes. the ghost keeps haunting the sugar bowl and reminds me it’s there with that imaginary ringing. What did you call it? Sn Disease, also known as Tin Man Syndrome, cross-referenced as Tinnitus? that should be right, doktor. I won’t have to get BOTOX® like my mom, right? it’s not that bad, but where’s my closed car when it rains? pedagogic recipe for fried thoughts:
in a mood that feels like drifting, throw the cutlets into a frying pan hot with oil, sear and spatter in rosemary to linger with shriveled memories. if to your taste, blacken it and then serve with edible flowers and sprinkled with gold dust and 50 mg of ground up ibuprofen. ✱✱✱
The straw that broke the camel’s back is the same one I drew that one time no one wanted to do the difficult thing. Now it’s in a museum at a mid-major university, next to an unflattering picture of me. One of these things (the straw, the picture of me, me) is omnipresent: some serious philosophical territory. Someone “into analytics” is certainly a type of person who exists, but never flexes their interest for humankind. Our tour guide tries to hide this secret love from us. He avoids the direct light. It's like people only do these things because they can get paid. And that's just really sad. ✱✱✱
taking the long way home to tell me you’re tired of us I am tired of scouring the bottom of my feet looking for reasons to look back leaving pieces of myself everywhere I go a stream of everything I consider, slipping out of my heels, bouncing off the concrete and back into my mouth, but losing bits along the way bits I’ve scavenged for bits I’ve fought for bits of you that you’ve been looking for I’m tracking things in the house now you’re upset, because I never take my shoes off I never turn my mind off I’m upset because you don’t call me by name as if I blend in with the books and the towel rack you own every bit of me you wish to see and I keep dragging the other bits in the ones of me that cared for someone else the ones of me that never cared for myself they’re all here in the other room down the hall there’s a password knock three times and they’ll ask which way I fall the answer is forwards always stumbling into uncomfortability into the heavy brown that weighs on me every time you catch me with your eyes and string me up in the rafters then glance elsewhere fleeting suspension as I hover over the ground and dropping me to the floor, breaking the smaller bits the bits that aren’t replaceable you say you are tired of us, but truly you are tired of who I made myself be you’ve explored all my caverns all my interesting all my depraved and you’d like to trade me in for a smoother, seamless smile one that won’t care for unwanted bits one that will ignore your missteps and gather your loose ends behind you one that will fit ✱✱✱
Jonathon Prestidge (formerly known as Jonathon Baker) has been producing collage art since early 1993, ever since he first discovered the work of artists John Yates and collage master Winston Smith. Jonathon was so impressed with the cutting, surreal and informative illustrations that he immediately decided to attempt his own creations.
Jonathon first began publishing his work in various underground magazines, including his own punk zine “Greedy Pigs”, but as the internet ballooned in popularity he began his own various web galleries and other people’s sites and blogs. Recently, Jonathon has and has put together a free digital magazine to also showcase the work of other underground collage artists called “Cultural Dissection”. He also sells his work as t shirts and prints using various print on demand services. There is also a book of Jonathon's collage art in production. |
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