art
The best relationship art depicts the highs and lows of the authentic couple.
Let them eat cake!
On a particularly sunny afternoon, I found myself sitting across from my mother at a vaccination site. We weren’t scheduled to be there together, but the universe in its infinite wisdom made it so we were. As we sat amongst others in the bustling waiting area, I took a look around as a moment of silence approached us.
By Nicole V Scott5 years ago in Humans
Struggle and Vision
Being the sculptor of ceramic pieces endows the artist with a unique sense of power. Whatever comes from our hands has the ability to transcend time. The time our bodies, and the bodies of those we love, and the bodies of those we will love, are allowed. It’s a responsibility that few get to experience — creating something that has the potential energy to be seen and studied as a touchstone of present-day culture.
By Allie Alcala5 years ago in Humans
Needle and Thread
Over 15 years ago, I was signed up (against my will) for a cross stitch needlepoint class that took place directly after Chinese school ended. Much to my dismay, I, a Cantonese/Vietnamese child, was in way over my head when I stepped into that class when the teacher could not speak any of the languages I knew. She spoke Mandarin with very limited English, and we could not communicate. She recruited one of the students she knew to act as our translator, and we became fast friends. The first few translations, however made it very clear how unprepared I was for this class. My mom gave me needles but I was empty handed when asked where my thread, cross stich fabric and stencils were. I was mortified. I am as introverted as one can be and being the only one that could not communicate with my teacher while she is telling me how bad my cross-stitching was did not help. The next week, my mom takes me to get all the materials I needed, and I still did not get the right colours of thread, my needles were too large for the cross-stitch fabric, I forgot to bring scissors, the list goes on. My teacher eventually gave up on trying to teach me directly as my translator friend and I would quietly do our craft until the bell rang. Who knew this extracurricular I reluctantly joined would result in a newfound love for sewing and embroidery?
By Jackie Nguyen5 years ago in Humans
With Fiskars As My Weapon, I Can Change the World.
With Fiskars As My Weapon, I Can Change the World. From 2020 into 2021, the world took a blow to the gut, enduring pain, loss, fear, and other emotions that rein indescribable. For me, a 19-year-old empath hiding in the safety of my boyfriend’s home, I ached for those who were on the frontlines not only fighting a global pandemic but systematic racism, the climate crisis, and threats to our country’s democracy. Being alone with my thoughts was hard, as it was for most during quarantine; however, a pair of Fiskars provided me some distractions: I cropped all my old t-shirts, cut my bangs out of boredom (a mistake), and took on hand sewing; of course, when I wasn’t learning Tik Tok dances. Yes, Fiskars has been in my back pocket through the not-so-impactful times this past year, but they have been there for the most impactful times as well. Throughout quarantine, watching the news, and being on social media was hard. I constantly wondered, “What can I do to lighten the burden on those who can’t help themselves?”. I marched in as many protests as I could, signed petitions, joined an activist group, and planned a canned goods drive for family’s impacted by COVID-19. I still felt like I could be doing more to impact lives more profoundly.
By Magdalena Rene Nickle5 years ago in Humans
Honing a Craft
In this essay we will take a close look at how joy and happiness are natural by-products of fulfilling the creative process — I will let on a little about what I'm crafting on now, discuss the existential art of crafting mentality and talk about why scissors are just, so important.
By Alex Johnson5 years ago in Humans
From Trash to Pirate Treasure
As a woman in my mid-30s, I have a lot of the things that often come with growing up: A job, an apartment, and a pile of clothes that have just one or two things wrong with them. Growing up has meant more working than playing, and skewing my spending more in the direction of bills and responsibilities, rather than toys or the adventures that I dreamed about growing up. As a child, my dress-up bin included outfits to help me imagine myself as pirates, princesses, animals, astronauts, and everything combined and in between. Nothing gave me more joy than taking a simple scarf and tying it around my waist to hold a paper towel roller sword, or putting on bulky clothing to simulate the protective gear of a space explorer.
By Jennifer Trustem5 years ago in Humans
Beadwork and Cultural Connection
My husband told me I need a hobby. I guess watching TV mindlessly isn't considered a hobby. At first, I was slightly offended by his suggestion. It's not like I don't do anything. I enjoy gardening but as I get older, bending down for hours on end and eventually throwing my back out doesn't appeal to me anymore. So, I took some time to think about what I'd like to do, and what I hope to get out of it.
By Alison McLaughlin5 years ago in Humans
Paper Angels
“And you, my dear, … are Most Polite.” “Ugh,” really? I received my first award in the second grade. I resented the title, returning to my chair, while Most Improved smiled at Best Penmanship and Works Well with Others laughed at Best at Sharing. Ugh! The most pleases and thank yous spoken in any given day? Please! I needed to hatch an escape plan, tunnel my way out, find any diversion from becoming a future member of the Decency Police.
By Samia Afra5 years ago in Humans
The Cutting and Collecting of Magic Things
As how sometimes in dreaming hours a dog will still want to run, in mind finding further wide fields or sandy beaches, in body moving their legs swift and horizontally outward, scraping the air at some magic earth only they can see…
By Rosemary Stafford5 years ago in Humans
Marching with Scissors
I thought she died at 50, that woman who was me, singing her heart out with abandon, dancing like a lunatic, awash in sequins, glitter, sweat, and the mad delirium that is performing for an audience. I thought life killed her: married, divorced, career, married again, kids, divorced again, married (third time's the charm). Not much room for music in all that. Got older. Not much room for sequins or activism. Afraid of failing, of looking old, of losing what was once as natural as the pulse you feel when you press your fingers against your wrist.
By Anna Purnell (she/her)5 years ago in Humans
Passive Confessions
I used to be a professional belly dancer… well I guess I still am technically, but without the ability to gig or teach it doesn’t really feel right to say it that way and hasn’t since April 2020. I used to perform every week and teach classes and private lessons and, to be honest, things were going well. So well that I had finally given notice at my other job and was ready to go all in with this dance thing. I was overjoyed about this and the confidence it gave me fueled ideas and choreographies, big plans for my future as a performing artist.
By Chantal Bianca Schoenherz5 years ago in Humans
