A magazine of LIT + ART.
It starts somewhere inside the body touching tough tissues, sliding along expanding and contracting muscular structures. The strophe and the antistrophe. The wax and then the wane. When she leaves the apartment, her things will become the negatives of a photograph. A bowl left on the nightstand. Her sweater slung over the back of the dining room chair. The toothbrush she forgot to take before she left.
My mother got knocked up in New York City, 1960, and never let me forget it: how she’d sweat standing still, her belly swollen and sore; how the rats would taunt her, perched on the stovetop, finding crumbs to eat no matter how well she cleaned. She soon learned not to bother. She moved to Florida before I could form memory. I never got around to moving myself. By thirty, I knew I wasn’t one for change; by fifty, it was best I stay to help out.
To prevent tipping the step-masculinity due to overreaching, the user must work with the body centered. Do not attempt to mount the masculinity from the side or step from one masculinity to another unless the masculinity is secured against sideways motion.
There’s a face behind our sink. Scratch that. There’s a face behind the tile above our sink. I hope that makes sense. It’s hard to describe, really. We chiseled away that old tile, we chipped off countless layers of caked-on grime, and there’s this face. Plain as day. Or maybe not plain as day.
Clapping in movie theaters has never been more appropriate. If your next film experience includes artwork from Pittsburgh's Nathan O. Marsh, then get ready to applaud! Marsh's diverse body of work can be seen in films such as The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (2015).
This magical Madrid-based artist/illustrator/comic swirls together her love for horror, science fiction, and action-genre literature and films. Her work reflects and layers together these many obsessions.
From the west side Seven Mile in Detroit emerged the miraculous beauty that is Jamea Richmond-Edwards. Her work in portraiture tells a story. With a deft hand, Richmond-Edwards crafts figures carved of ebony wood, blanketed in layers of ink, acrylic, fabrics, and a passionate vulnerability.
María Ramos helps us wish on big yellow stars for bright pink hair. This maker of zines and children's author is based in Madrid. Ramos blends silly elements with bright colors to create a whole host of characters.
Spaghetti Toes (a.k.a. Marty Bruckner) is inspired by the silly words of his young daughter. The wise one-liners of a two-year-old girl have been brought to life through Spaghetti Toes' drawings. Each silly nugget of knowledge has been preserved through his artwork. Since the beginning of this collection, Spaghetti Toes has been able to illustrate for people all over the world, taking their children's knowledge and adding to the encyclopedia of sayings. Spend some time with the monsters, princesses, superheroes, and super silliness that is Spaghetti Toes.
When you’re here, you should check your idea of reading as a status symbol at the door and enjoy yourself. We prefer art that keeps it simple while packing a punch, and we think art and culture is best enjoyed with enthusiasm that hasn’t been dipped in ten-dollar words.
Our online magazine isn’t our print mag’s subordinate—it’s a living, breathing publication that’s accessible to anyone (with internet access) at any time at no cost. And by pairing all of our writing with art, we’re not just making our website pretty—we’re making reading more approachable on the whole.
The world’s full of misfits channeling their creativity in ways that give gatekeepers nightmares. Much as we’d like to tilt our heads toward the slush pile and default to the excuse of “we work with what we’re given,” that’s complacent, and complacency is uncool.