I was riding home on the train when a stranger sat down across from me. He looked at me for a long time before speaking.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said, finally. I didn’t respond, but the man mistook my silence as interest.
“You kill my wife and I kill yours.”
“What the fuck,” I said.
The baby’s mother went to nurse her and found her bassinet full of bits of glass, sparkling around her head like a halo. Panic stricken, the mother swept up all the crystals into her cupped hand, heart pounding, wondering how the glass ended up there—had a burglar broken in?
Since June, I’ve been working a sawmill job forty miles south of the place I’m living. There’s nothing to rent out there, even the single-wides eaten up by folks who’ve been in the mountains twenty years or more. But the mill pays better than waitressing, or bagging groceries at the A&B. It’s a temporary thing, the way I see it. A means of getting out.
“Tell me something nobody else knows about you,” he says, sitting across from you at the romantic table. In most settings, he looks like a boy, but sometimes he looks like a man, or a cat, or a telephone pole. He looks past your left ear when he speaks, like your eyes are the production assistant’s camera, like your eyes are the burning loins red foxglove on the mantel.
At dinner, he asks what I think the hardest thing about adulthood is.
Fine, that’s a lie. It sounds better that way, but of course we don’t eat dinner, not together.
The day after she died, my wife comes back to cut up my clothes: little waning moons at the hems of my dresses, the necks of my sweaters, the sleeves of a heavy flannel shirt she had once given me for Christmas. The floor of our closet—which still smells like her, powdery and clean—is littered with scraps.
No one can make orange looks as sweet as our darling Suzanne Dias. Dias finds the muse in the depths of her feelings, and in the details of her environment. Her individual mood and state of mind continually influence her artwork. Bold, digital, breathtaking - the work of starts in pencil and black ink, before being transformed into the vibrant hues you see before you.
Aurore Thill is a revelation, a seer, an inspiration. She found herself in a digital medium, processing her artwork in a totally different way. As a new-wave artist, Thill praises the use of Instagram for artists. This illustrator takes a single idea and entrenches it in magic. With each piece, she strives to find “IT” - a fantastical element that brings her creations to life.
Our very own Capetown Queen - Katrin Coetzer creates her artwork with a naturalistic touch and a fantastical air. With original techniques, Coetzer uses water-based media on paper, and her gouache paints and ink. This glorious artist and mother creates work for picture books, editorial, brand work, and exhibitions.
Petra Eriksson is our newest digital magician of womanly art. Her bold color palette and geometric boldness stopped us cold, and we’re overflowing with joy. She works with large windows and numerous plants around her, and minimal human interactions. Eriksson’s quiet resilience shines through in each of these striking illustrations.
We’re revisiting our favorite Russian wood nymph, Alexandra Dvornikova. Originally from Saint Petersburg, Russia, Dvornikova now lives and makes art in London. Her artwork is infused with her love of nature. She creates in a space where no eyes can see her, private and invisible to an audience until the piece is done. As a digital artist, Dvornikova comprises her work with her imagination, memories, bytes of information, and endless pixels.
This morning, our darling Rebecca Green got up, made coffee, and got to drawing while still in her pajamas. Each of these female focused drawings infuses elements of nature, magic, and absolute cuteness - which is why we fell in love. Green draws inspiration from the stories of her past. As an imaginative child, Green would play school, dentist, and grocery store. Her games of pretend have brought her to a career where creativity and make believe are essential.
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.