WalkingBlind Art And Literature Magazine

August 2010V

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WalkingBlind Art and Literature Magazine Published by NevaehVision

Premiere Issue -WalkingBlind is the new cutting edgejournal for the Art and Literary community.A fresh new vision on the culture of and creativity of the human race!

InsideExtreme verse:The poetry of Junia Pholprasert “My flesh is weeping pale tears an-

other basin of cherry beeds blossom.”

More on page -

Interviews:The dark world of Gloom“I’m not trying to ‘tell’, but rather ‘re-

mind’ people with my art that all emo-

tions caused by art are already there,

already inside us.”

Read the full article on page -

Required Reading:Graphic Design “A lack of graphic design or designers

would be catastrophic. Without con-

vincing advertisement, companies

would never be able to compete with

one another for consumer su-

premacy.”

More on page -

Cover art by Anton Semenov

WalkingBlind Issue 1 vol. 1About the front cover.

On our front cover is Weiss’sSecret by 37 year old Siberianresident Anton Semenov. Whenwe witnessed the level of detailachieved by Anton we knew hisimages would hold a specialplace of honor in our premierissue. Check out this issuescenter section for more fromAnton.

WalkingBlindLayout and Editorial

Executive Editor- Kendra Gimblet Assitant Editor- Glen L. Puchlerz

Graphics Director- Glen L. Puchlerz

Business

WalkingBlind Art and LiteratureMagazine is publication ofNevaehVision.

For advertising or submision queries contact:[email protected]

www.nevaehvision.com

Editor’s Letter

WalkingBlind Literature and Art Magazine is an online periodical thatshows an outward expression to an inward passion. It’s a periodical

that capsules creations that daze its readers and critics. WalkingBlind de-scribes the taking over of our bodies to art, when the tools of our craft arein hand everything else is blurred to the point of invisibility; we go blind.One of the purposes of WalkingBlind is to remove the blinders off of theworld and show them the avant-garde of art.

WalkingBlind exists to open up a cosmos of art yet unseen. This peri-odical will contain some of the most underground and alternative formsof expression, while occasionally shaking hands with its mainstreambrethren. The uncovering of true artistry is the reason why WalkingBlindhas emerged into the world of the living. Unlike other undertakings of thesame genre this magazine is not here to present the new black of the artuniverse, but rather to unearth the ever evolving state of art and the fresh-ness of creativity within the culture of its community. The passion to com-municate the underestimated language in which artists speak was oneof the strong gusts of wind that delivered the metaphorical stork to ourminds; with baby WalkingBlind in its basket. You all are the first of whatwe believe will be many who will come to enjoy the treasure trove of artand the artists that labored them into being.

WalkingBlind was birthed in order to spotlight the world’s oldest form ofexpression, and that is art. Everyone seems to have forgotten that litera-ture and illustration were once one; they thrived together and survivedthousands of years inside of one another. The offspring of this union ed-ucated the commoner and empowered the lonely street artist. The cata-lyst that defined ancient communication was art. Now, that has all butdied, leaving behind much weaker segregated districts of its once wholeself. WalkingBlind will concentrate on and bring together that communi-cation through the reunification of these forms face to face in one place.You are invited to take part in this marriage of an eclectic consommé, andexplore the focal point of its passion.

The scope and mission of this magazine is to effectively illuminate therealm of underground art by loosing the blindfold from the eyes of main-stream culture. WalkingBlind pursues original artistic styles acknowledg-ing that every artist’s vision is individually unique. Our intent is also toconvey how strong the chain that holds the art community together reallyis. We endeavor to inspire those already practicing their craft to excel-lence and motive aspiring artists to grow. Pushing the boundaries of freeartistic expression beyond the apex of ordinary sight.

It is our sincere vision to unwrap the art of the underground artist. Themagazine will strive to bring the best art related materials to our viewers,and saturate the world with our pens and brushes. Our vision for the fu-ture is to one day soon become a widely circulated ultra exposed onlinemagazine. We wish to donate to the professional and amateur art com-munity as well as become the global go to gallery for emerging art.

WalkingBlindKendra Gimblet - Executive Editor

Inside

WalkingBlindWalkingBlindF e a t u r e s

August 2010Volume 1 Number 1

Departments

Digital Art

Traditional Art

Poetry & Prose

Photography

Articles

Enterainment

Lois Van Baarle Fransico Perez Anton Semenov Guangjian Huang

5 -9 -13 -20 -

Chelsea Green LewytaBerk OzturkMark Magnaye

Anton FrostGunjanShane CotierJunia Pholprasert Kendra Gimblet

Gabe FarnsworthPansa SunaveeDenis Grzetic Dr. Lee Hunter

Photography IntroGraphic DesignCoherence

Sion Darkness

WalkingBlind Art and literature Magazine is a publication of the nevaehvision co. Content is protected under U.S. and International copyright laws. Any duplicationwithout the express written authorization of Walkingblind Magazine and it’s subsidiaries is strictly prohibited. Artistist creative works and/or intellectual propertiesare under license to WalkingBlind Magazine and remain the sole properties of the artists. For further information contact WalkingBlind Art and Literature Magazine

at: http//www.nevaehvision.com or email [email protected]. WalkingBlind Art and Literature Magazine is a monthly publication with offices in Florida andMassachusetts Copyright©Nevaehvision.com, 2010. All rights Reserved.

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F e a t u r e s

INthe age of political correctness

I feel obligated to explain the

name of the magazine in a

clearer way in order for all of our readers

and critics to know what the name: 'Walk-

ingBlind' means, and how it came to be.

This name was not a last minute epiphany

or a crackle and pop of the brain that graced

my lips when pondering the defining word

of a future magazine. It is in no way ment

to be offensive to any person, or organiza-

tion of any kind and was created for the

purpose of art and art alone.

The word 'Walkingblind' was assembled by

me four years ago as a unique username in

various other artistic sites that would allow

me to upload my creative writings. Along

the way it has been modified slightly to in-

clude hyphens and numbers to accomadate

those sites, but the meaning that has always

been attached to it has remained true.

Strung together by a lonely writer aban-

doned to the narrow confinments of college

rule paper, this lover of verse mulled over

the broken alphabet as if to brew a pot of

stone soup. This person wanted a name that

had power behind it, a strong catalyst that

would propell a fire for art forward. This

name had to represent the feeling of being

possessed by the gift of artistic expression

in such a way that everything else seemed

all but meaningless in the artist's sight, thus

it was born.

WalkingBlind Literature and Art Magazine

is an online periodical that shows an out-

ward expression to an inward passion. It de-

scribes the taking over of our bodies to art,

when the tools of our craft are in hand

everything else is blurred to the point of in-

visibility; we go blind to all but creativity.

Whats In a Name

Political CorrectnessWalkingBlind

Digital Art

Next Right

4

Lois

Van

Baa

rle

Lois

Van

Baa

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Lo

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Walkingblind Magazine

andplayfulkoi fishdancing onair and youwill find LoisVan Baarle hardat work enjoyingwhat she loves to dobest, draw. Creatingfrom a well drenched inpure imagination and usu-ally without reference shespends most of her time per-fecting her art. Putting emphasison flow and expression her art workstands in a class of its own. The vibrant palletfrom which she chooses to mix stands out as a huge facetof her very personal style. Her images grab ones mind playfully,delicately, but always powerfully, motivating the viewer to feel elicitingall manner of thought and emotion and all directly related to her masterfuluse of color. An active member of the art community Lois is a dynamic force, everevolving, growing in vision and style. From childhood to adult life her mission has been to draw,to create, to bring to life characters and places that exist nowhere else but in her minds eye. Currently residing in theNetherlands Lois is quite accomplished, with her portfolio reflecting many moods and seasons of artistic prose andvision. The variety and vibrancy of her work speaks for itself but sometimes we like to hear from the artists themselvesto gain insight beyond the surface so let me introduce you to Lois and the world she creates.

Spin the globe, place a finger on Western Europe borderingthe North Sea, look somewhere between Belgium and

Germany amidst flowing bou-quets of coloredr i bbons

6

Lois Van Baarle is currently a freelance illustrator/anima-

tor performing work ranging from illustrations to concept

art, character designs and animations working almost al-

ways digital. Her drawing skills are self-taught, at 18 she

decided to study animation which she did for five years,

one year in Belgium and four in Utrecht, the Netherlands.

At the Utrecht School of the Arts Lois obtained a Euro-

pean Media Master in Arts and won the HKU award for

the most innovative graduation project, an animation en-

titled Trichrome Blue.

I was enormously in awe of Art Nouveau

At a young age I was influenced by commercial ani-mation and comic styles, particularly Disney films andthe work of French comic artists such as Aurore Black-Cat. I was also enormously in awe of Art Nouveau,particularly the work of Alfonse Mucha, and over timetried to fuse the two in my own work, making decora-tive, feminine pieces with a cartoony touch. As I stud-ied animation I became influenced by Triplettes deBelleville and other French animation films with aslightly darker touch. I'm still de-veloping my 'artistic vision,' ex-ploring different directions to goand how to do this best.

Because I studied animation butalso illustrate a lot, I have differ-ent approaches to my work whichhave yet to form a coherentwhole in my opinion. Hugely im-portant to me is the use of colorin my work, which I feel has thestrongest emotive power and mo-

tivates me enormously - specifically in my personalanimation project, Trichrome, which is supposed toform a trilogy of animations in which each one dealswith a separate color and the emotions they bring.

Mermaid by Loish

photo by McKlin

Glow by Loish7


I was enormously in awe of Art Nouveau

L O I S HI'm doing a constant mix of personal work - illustra-

tions as well as animation - and building up free-

lance experience. Over the years I've developed a

huge fondness for

Photoshop and

using a "digital

painting" technique

for my work.

Born in Holland Ihave Dutch nation-ality, however I'velived all over theworld, includingthe United States,Indonesia, France and Belgium.Drawing since the day I couldhold a pencil it had always beena hobby to me until I decided tostudy pursue art as a career.Some people ask me how I de-veloped my own style. It wasn’treally a conscious decision Imade, nor do I have any spe-cific methods for doing this. Isuppose developing your ownstyle has to do with drawing alot. The more you draw yourwork evolves and you start tofind the ways which suit youbest. I'm very active on the De-viantArt community: loish.de-viantart.com and have beenfeatured there numerous timeswith the 'daily deviation feature.'My animation is posted toVimeo (vimeo.com/loish) and ofcourse my own main websiteloish.net

Crimson Petals by Loish. “I wanted to try outsome new colors”

A girl and her pet, I found this boring so I did what anyresonable person would do; I added an Octopus!

Koi Pond, initially this was a speed sketch, but Iended picking up at it a few hours a day to relax

Submerged, Arandom concept doodle, Ilike it in terms of atmosohere.

8

PacoF

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Arti

st

AGE: 27

OCCUPATION: Freelance Illustrator

ARTISTIC STYLE: Smokin!

LOCATION: Miami, FL

WEBSITE: www.pac23.com

9Walkingblind Magazine

Collection and pop to prove it. Ifyou’ve contemplated his workyou will agree when I call it bold,I feel there should be some wild‘Tada!” or cartoon-ish “Bang!”that comes along with his art. Forexample take Pac’s ‘Panda WithGun’ it is both stunning andslightly frightening when all youhear in the back of your head isAerosmith’s “Jane’s Got A Gun”.The way he has the bamboo twigsticking out of his mouth and thepanda’s grip on the alreadysmoking gun along with Pac’s at-tention to detail makes this ahard core piece of art, lets notforget the panda’s glowing eyespractically begging you to tryhim. If I may continue I would liketo lasso ‘Panda Tattoos’ and‘Bear 2’ forward so that I canspeak clearly of their greatness.At first glance I had quickly tilted

my head to avoidbeing grabbedand snatched intothe screen bythese outrageouscharacters, andwith their armsspread out infrontof them as if totap on the flatpanel of my LCDwho could blameme. The excite-ment that runsthrough a per-son’s veins whenobserving themcan be comparedto hooking one-self up to abungee cord andjumping from abridge, that feel-

ing of cold adrenaline seep-ing into the extremities iswhat I experienced. What isthat? I’m going a bit over-board with my analogies amI? If your asking me that thenyou haven’t noticed the facialexpressions of his createdcreatures which are enoughto give a brown bear a nosebleed. When explain-ing why we neededPac’s work inthe magazineto my team Ie n t e r t a i n e dthem by assumingthe poses de-picted in his art towin them over.Other than making

myself look ridiculous Inoticed how action-packed his work really is;it makes you grin from earto ear and wish you couldborrow their surplus gustofor the rest of your life.The art movesin animatedform betweenthe bound-aries of ourimagination dis-playing a fierceattitude and voiceof their own.Among them Ican envisionthe crazed‘Killa Pen-guin’ run-ning rapidw a v i n g

With all the vitality of thetheme song to Donkey KongFrancisco Perez presents him-self as Pac, an in your face typeof digital artist with the Dunny

Panda with Gun by Paco

Killa Penguin by Paco

10

shocking piece you ask? It’s be-cause Pac has done somethingreally important and slightlysneaky here. Though the tankedbeing isn’t as vigorous as the restof his brethren he is performingan action, he’s thinking. You knowan artist has the ability to keepgrowing in the business of hischoosing when he can make in-ternal thinking appear to take onan outward action without somuch as drawing a raised hand.Here we have an example of thatas Pac’s creation stands in asmall bowl of water dressed in abright green and yellow diving suitwith a cowboy belt around hiswaist and a weird sombrero look-ing hat. How much more activitydo you want in a piece of art?Francisco Perez has been a blastto write about not only because ofhis fun drawings, but due to thequality of work he produces andhis unique style which I havebeen writing about the wholetime. He is sure to keep on risingto the top of the art world as his

digital illustrations become highdemand for their originality

and strength. I’m sureyou haven’t gotten

enough of this artistso please visit himon the web at thesites we in-cluded above,or buy his awe-some work at.h t t p : / / p a c -man23.gutter-spaced.com

to pop out of your head. Pac’sart has adopted this feeling ofdramatic urgency and trans-forms our minds into a virtualplaying field for his creatures tofrolic. In short it’s a thrill thesenses simply can’t take all atonce or your brain might spasmfrom prolonged exposure. If youdon’t believe me stare at ‘Wax 1’for awhile, at first it seems mildlysimplistic and humorous, youmight crack a smile at thedoomed character while over-looking the awesome aspects ofthis piece. Take a closer look atit and you will see that the fish-bowl our little friend is in issweating bullets which go ex-tremely well with the bold excla-mation mark and his slightlytilted head; you can’t help butthink about what this trappedguy is wondering in such a smallsmothering confinement. Whydidn’t I pick another outwardly

his trusty dagger. From the looks ofhim I can tell he hasn’t been in hisnatural habitat for a long time judg-ing from the harsh glint on the bladeand glow on his leathery skin. Theeyes are my favorite part of thispiece, they bulge and appear to becausing the wrinkles directly belowand the tiny specks called pupilsare opposite of one another resem-bling an insane drunkard; he looksas if he will can go off on you justfor sneezing. If you were to makethis image bigger you would seethe healed over scar on the eyelid,the nicks on his aging yellowbeak, and the penguin’s five o’-clock shadow all proof ofPac’s ability to make the littledetails tell a story. Anotherthing that makes this artistunique is his influences,one of which is Miami, Fl.Having vacationed to thatpart of the world a coupleof times I can say fromexperience that Miamihas dominated its slice ofland. As soon as you crossover into the city you knowsomething has changed, it’slike they release freedom intothe air and paint their houseswith heat. Everything is con-stantly being passed right underyour nose, and your eyes take in somany things at once that they’d like

Wax by Paco

Panda Tattoos by Paco


Bear2 by Paco


A N T o N S e M e N ov

A N T o N S e M e N ovWalkingblind Magazine


16





Guangjian Huang

Our next artist is one of astro-nomical proportions his work isso powerful in elegance andstrength that it can floor entiremountains and throw the planetoff balance. With an artist ofsuch talent in our mist you can-not simply jump into his work, butease into it with all the gracefulpoise of a ballet dancer, and theshrewdness of a master thief. Iam not playing favorites, butsomething I learned early on with


Guangjian Huang

22

this digital artist is to never finalize what hisart means or appears to be saying, like adrying slab of concrete it may look a certainway one minute and a totally different ma-terial in the next. In order to help you not tomake the same mistake I did I want you tothink on one word. {Beauty} What exactlydoes this word mean? Can it be definedwithin the blasphemous structure of a man’scategory obsessed mind, forever banishedto wonder without the power of its full defi-nition to back it up? Is something only beau-tiful when it gives you pleasure or deepsatisfaction whether it arises from sensorymanifestations or meaningful design? I askthis due to the fact that this artist’s work hasa strange beauty to it, an alchemic allurethat dawns the soul like fitted clothing andrefreshes the deserts of imagination by pro-viding our mind’s eye with constant visualsequences of rough elegance. GuangjianHuang’s artistry is like an enchanted oasiswith purple-gold trees sprouting through redsoil to worship the sky hanging low withonyx clouds next to a watering hole in whichyou can view his work and drink it deeply.This extremely adept artist says “I like thevisions which are full of visual impact andmagic charm. I want to show these fantasticstories through my works.” We get to seethat impact in ‘Angels and Demons’ a fa-vorite of mine and the artist himself it’s likewe’ve come to admire a black hole, an aswe stare into the swirling brilliance of the ce-lestial body it steals our eyes. If you are anhonest person lets embark on a slight ex-periment of candour, look upon the firstpiece of art for two seconds and when youare done close your eyes tightly and bring itback up into your mind; the smooth marbledface of the man surrounded by ultimatemanners of power, the slightly awkward col-ors spread across the piece, the range oftextures from soft to jagged. Now open

them once more and take in the entirety of this workof art, let yourself become engulfed by the enormity ofthis piece’s purpose by picking out small aspects andfacts discovered within it. When observing it intimatelyyou can witness each detail, each small dot under theeye, every strand of hair, and freckle of light. Whenlooking at it this way we can see that the complex colorcreates a thin aura of confusion around the man, lock-

Guangjian Huang’s artistry is likean enchanted oasis



ing him into a battle with himself and the other worldly beings who want him. You can see their wantthrough the way the garments of those beings caress him, both are cold even the sun splashed silverarmor resting loosely on his shoulder as the blade of the upper piece makes camp against his neck.I admire how the shadows play with his Adam’s apple while the helm of darkness slowly encroachesupon the character’s innocent face and chest at the hollow of his throat. Take a look at how the snake-like tentacles swim among the white hair strands in the oceanic background of the image, it almostgives you a feeling of hopeless drowning and brings light to why his face is so stoic. After seeing allof this a slight tinge of sorrow may nip at your heart, and the reason for that is because this man rep-resents us. Think deeply about how it is to live in the world and how innocent you were coming intothis life ready to take it on with a candy bar and a water pistol. Now look at yourself and your problems,examine the dark helm that waits patiently to incase your face and the situations that seem like a cold


light ready to devour you, gather up all of this knowledge and look at yourself in the eye. The true beautyin Huang’s work comes from his natural ability to make us look ourselves in the face and never knowit. Seeing this makes it hard for me to believe that this talented man at one time majored in business,I had to ask him about the decision and he said this: ‘I liked drawing very much when I was a little child,but I enrolled as a financial university major in accounting compliance with the wishes of my parents.When I graduated in 2005, I worked as an accountant for half a year. Then I turned to learn arts, be-cause I found it's terrible to do the job which you don't like, now I can draw every day. I feel I'm one ofthe luckiest people in the world.’ I can’t imagine what the world would have missed out on if he had notfollowed his dream and stayed an accountant, it goes to show that dreams weigh more than money.So as you enjoy Huang’s art remember that it almost didn’t exist.

26

Want to see your

artwork here?

Send us a sam-

ple and a de-

scription of the

type of art you’re

involved in. We

are always on

the lookout

for talented

artists!

Send samples andSubmission inquiriesto: [email protected]

Wal

kingB

lind Traditional Art

Traditional Art

Chelsea Greene Lewyta was born 1987 and raised in the Hudson River Valley of NewYork mostly in the small town of Cornwall. Since she was little she loved to create,pretend, explore, and be surrounded by nature. In her adolescence she started usingartwork as an escape and means of expressing herself.

Her high school art program was very supportive and cultivated her mind. It wasthere that she realized she wanted to do something with her talent and passion.Chelsea attended the Pratt Institute and received early acceptance, with a partial ac-

ademic scholarship. It was a very constructive environment. Chelsea got in-volved in the school comic, Static Fish, where her work was first published.Some of Chelsea’s other favorite artists include Marlane Dumas, HansBellmer, Louise Bourgeois, Julie Heffernan, Fuyuko Matsui, Takato Ya-mamoto, Arthur Rackham, Jessie Wilcox Smith, Beatrix Potter, EgonSchiele, Alphonse Mucha, Édouard Manet, and William Adolphe

Bouguereau.. Chelsea discovered her favorite artist, Kiki Smith, on a gallery trip withher Illustration class to the Whitney. She describes Smith’s work as changing her life,the emotional impact on Chelsea was profound.

Few details seperate my work from my life

and from myself. I view it all as a great

schism between the beautiful and the macabre.

Chelsea Greene Lewyta A freelance illustrator living in New York City U.S.A


Chelsea Greene Lewyta A freelance illustrator living in New York City U.S.A


Besides these specific artists, Chelsea hasbeen greatly inspired by woodblock printsfrom the far east. Eastern cultures have al-ways been an interest for her. Growing upwith an adopted Korean sister she was ex-posed to an exotic culture and encouragedto learn more. Her family and her life havebeen an inspiration for her work, but mostlyher work depicts her perspective on emo-tionally involved subjects. Chelsea de-scribes her work as an extension of herself,a great schism between the beautiful and

the macabre. Her work started out from asort of feminist perspective, dealing withthe themes of weight and beauty, the malegaze, race and sexuality and interpersonalstruggles. From there she extended herempathy to more of a humanist standpoint,relating to pain not by reason but experi-ence. Some of the themes she has takenan interest in since, are coming of age, ob-session of youth, and interior/exteriorspaces and figures. In October 2008 shewas published in her first major Newspaper,

A selection of Chelsea’s art exhibiting

lighter themes. This body of work is aes-

thetically driven. These images are

geared towards childrens illustration and

were created for publication.

An owl and rider by Chelsae Greene Lewyta

33

Bamboo Forest by Chelsea Greene Lewyta

Water Dragon by Chelsea Greene Lewyta

The backgroundimage “Pond”comes from aselection ofChelsea’s art ex-hibiting strongerthemes. Thisbody of work isheavily contentdriven and werecreated for thepurpose of pub-lished illustrationand gallery exhi-bition.


of the Illustration department. Chelsea began ex-hibiting her work internationally with a show inSydney, Australia at The National Grid in Summerof 2008. The biggest motivating show for her wasThe Kids Are Alright curetted by Beau Basse, agroup of emerging artists showing in a tour of fivecities in 2009. Chelsea graduated Pratt in May of2009. Since then she has worked on a variety ofalbum covers, small projects, and is in theprocess of illustrating a children’s book. She hascontinued to show and recently a lot of her focushas gone into a new body of work executed in oiland other traditional media.

A work entitled ‘Fall’ by Chelsea Greene Lewyta

Born and raised in New York, Chelsea

currently resides in Manhattan


From her stronger content driven work a piece entitled Pond

List

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y C

hels

ea G

reen

e Le

wyt

a

the New York Observer. The sameyear, two of her pieces were featuredin the Society of Illustrator’s StudentShow and one won the GreenwichWorkshop Award. While at PrattChelsea also studied oil painting, silkscreening, lithography, paper andbook making where she was exposed

to more fine art styles of teach-ing and process than

the commerciald r i v e

36


All I H

ave

is He

r by B

erk O

zTu

rk


Berk OzturkClose your eyes an open your senses to a world

filthy with the varied detritus of the modern age. Hearthe screech of nations crying out from inside their low-ered cages and watch behind your eyelids as evil am-bles unabashedly naked towards its next victim. Smellthe fumes as they rise above the mountains to feastholes into a bleeding sky and feel the earth beneath youswollen with a still born harvest. Now open your eyesand behold the work of Berk Öztürk a twenty-three yearold freelance traditional artist from Ýstanbul, Turkey. Idid that very experiment and when I looked upon hiswork I saw hope, it is hard to believe that hope can beseen in a canvas that avoids being lit with bright skiesand candy like colors such as some of our other won-derful artists, but it is true. In each piece of art featuredthroughout his article you can spot a symbol of freedom,whether it be the slightly open door that lets in a sliverof light in ‘All I Have Is Her’ or the obsessive desire forfish in ‘Loverman’. When asked about the artistic visionand motivation of his work Berk replied ‘In my paintings

I always offer alternatives

to the viewers, I usually

cover a moment in life. I al-

ways leave a door open for

probabilities. I say maybe

there is a hope. Generally,

the characters I draw are

pessimistic, helpless, and

desperate who cannot con-

fess that despair. They are

always searching for an-

other road, or street, for an-

other world. What I do is,

give them the world that

they want. It’s pleasant for

me to create an opposite

situation between the col-

ors, textures and the sub-

jects.’ The answer I gotfrom him made me ponderon the millions of peoplestuck solid in the interim oflife, with their minds cap-tured in a chaotic whirlwind

while they dig into the spiritual brick wall holding theanswer to their struggle at bay. Berk’s illustrationslatch onto the feeling all humans have right beforethe last metaphorical straw breaks the camel’sback. This artist steals that scene from life, mani-fests it in art form and creates light in unexpectedplaces. He gives his characters a way out, an un-locked door at the end of the tunnel if you will, achoice between their day to day and a world unliketheir own. ‘I prefer to show dark and sad incidents’

Berk says ‘out of pretty figures in my drawings. I de-

form and draw the things that I've experienced and

or I've observed.I explain everything that I observe

and realize in my life, out of adult figures that seem

childish. I am trying to create a new story with a new

beginning and unique ending, from the lonely pages

of different stories.’

Berk’s phantasmagorical art is both gritty andawe inspiring, when observing his work the original-ity of his pieces stroke the artistic heart while pro-

viding a mental seat in whichto rest. With such a wonder-ful array of talent the obviousquestion to ask next wouldbe: “What influenced this?How did this come to be?What started his journey intothe depths of visual art?”Thankfully we have askedjust that and his answer likethe last is truly informative‘My interest in art started by

the means of my aunt and

her boyfriend. In those days

they had been drawing in

various children books and

fashion magazines. I can

say that the first people

whom discovered my talents

in art, were them. My mother

and my primary school

teacher understood my tal-

ents and encouraged me to

keep on drawing persistently.

I started to draw with every

Lover Man by Berk OzTurk39Walkingblind Magazine

The Last Movie by Berk OzTurk40


The Last Dream by Berk ozTurk41Walkingblind Magazine

pen and paper that I found. Because I was a

child, I didn’t realize what and why I was draw-

ing. Drawings that I created were only some ex-

pressional thoughts of a child which had helped

me to improve technically for sure. Now, I am a

senior student in art at Marmara University Fac-

ulty of Fine Arts. I am in the course that I've

wanted. I've been drawing illustrations for three

years and I know that I've devoted my life to it.

The truth is, there were no major influences at

the beginning. I was already influenced by the

art itself. But when your style takes on its own

characteristic shape, the things that influence

you will still stand out. I can say that, French Cin-

ema has an influence on me. Besides that, I ad-

mire Kunio Kato, Tim Burton, Mike Mignola,

Jakup Dvorsky, The Triplets of Belleville, Machi-

narium, La Maison en Petits Cubes are the

works that I’ve liked most in last years.’ As ablank canvas ready to receive the stroke of theartist’s brush OzTurk’s innate talent enables himto collect a myriad of techniques from the vari-ous artists he’s mentioned above. If you knowKunio Kato, Tim Burton, Mike Mignola, andJakup Dvorsky’s work you’d be amazed withwhat Berk has learned from these pioneers inthe arts. Gleaning a better sense of surreal im-agery, textural depth, a subdued color palletalong with dark ambiance and mystery com-bined with his own special techniques OzTurk isa force to be reckoned with. With such people toimpact the style and artistic ventures of our fea-tured artist is there any doubt that he will be thenext big thing in the world of traditional illustra-tion. The alternative beauty of the work we arepresented with more than satisfies our desire forfuture hope while still connecting with our everpresent situations.

Surrealism is destructive, but it de-stroys only what it considers to beshackles limiting our vision.

-Salvador Dali

Days To Remember by Berk OzTurk

““

42

Throughout all of the digital andtraditional features my team and Ihave strived to keep your bloodboiling by using in your facepieces that could stop a heartbeatand melt a prehistoric iceberg inthe matter of seconds. During ourquest to incorporate artists thatchallenge the mind with complexphilosophy and technique I beganto wonder about the ending, usu-ally people are accustomed to the‘start hard finish hard’ mentality,

“Striving to create art that compels and comforts”but I wanted to give the audiencesomething to rest on. In comesMark Magnaye as Blok- Blok ayoung energetic artist whosewarm color ranges and expressivecharacters create a sense of re-laxed separation from this world.Mark Magnaye was born in a littletown called Sapang Palay in theprovince of Bulacan in the Philip-pines on December 17, 1991. Heis a third year student from theUniversity of the Philippines taking

up Visual Communication. He isalso a recipient of Pitoy MorenoScholarship grant and a consis-tent dean's lister. He loves snap-ping lovely photographs andeating home cooked spaghetti. Itis amazing how art is like a lan-guage of its own, it speaks to usin many ways, whether it’s loudor eerily silent, Mark’s art tells usto stop rushing in life so that wemay experience the good andbad to the full; the piece ‘Whale’

Whale by Mark Magnaye43 Walkingblind Magazine

is a great example of this. In‘Whale’ the little girl and herwhale friend sit still on top of arich green hill that seems to di-vide them from the world andpushes them toward a skydarkened with the colors of thesetting sun. It has such a com-forting haze to it yet the sad-ness of the misplaced whale isdisplayed in the way thewhale’s eyes close and theposture of the girl. With theability to make his audiencefeel such intertwining emotion Ihad to ask him about the ori-gins of his wonderful work, theresponse I got wowed me: ‘Icame from a family of artists.My grandfather was the onewho helped me develop myfoundations as an artist. Hisformal training with FernandoAmorsolo, a Phil. Nationalartist, was passed into the fam-ily. There are also severalartists who inspire me with theirwork and creativity like BethDoctolero and Serj Bumatay IIIfrom the Philippines, MiguelCalatayud and Berk Oztürk.The colorful culture and tradi-tion of my country is also a con-stant inspiration for me to

Umbrella by Mark Magnaye


produce great artworks. Thereare a couple of attention gettersin what he wrote that probablydidn’t send any red flags up foryou so I’ll explain why those fewsentences are so awesome. Fer-nando Amorsolo’s paintings andsketches are of rural Philippinelandscapes which he displayed inperfection, his special techniqueof capturing specific lighting con-ditions in the Philippines andpainting them on his canvasmade him one of the most impor-tant artists in the history of paint-ing in the Philippines. Theprivilege to learn from a greatmaster of the arts and then passit down to his family is the equiv-alent of the king of pop comingback from the dead and teachinga dancing class. Mark’s grandfa-ther’s training and artistic matu-rity along with his famous teacherare partially responsible for help-ing shape Blok-Blok’s work intothe unique art it is today. Anotherthing that stood out to me wasone name ‘Berk Oztürk’ whomMark seems to look up to as anartist; it is a freakishly rare coin-cidence that his own article isright after his idol’s art. This is

Waiting by Mark Magnaye


something none of us saw coming, matter of factBerk’s work and placement was complete weeksbefore Mark’s was. What I find more intriguing isthe impact that Berk has had on the feelings seep-ing from the canvas of our featured artist; I am talk-ing about hope ‘the unlocked door at the end of thetunnel if you will’. My last question was simply toinquire his reasoning for drawing and painting likehe does, an artist can have the best training andothers artists to look up to but one thing every suc-cessful artist has in common is passion; I asked

him about his. ‘Art was a big part of my childhood,more than entertainment, watching cartoons andanime was a learning experience. Back then, draw-ing and sketching was as much fun as playing withfriends. When my teachers in school saw my talent,they encouraged me to participate in inter-school competitions. Joining in such art contests honedmy skills and inspired me to polish my craft while having a great deal of fun. As an artist, it is agreat joy to reach out through my artworks andconnect to my audience even if they are thousands

of miles away. Whenever my creations are appre-ciated by people, it also drives me to strive more,learn and continue producing original and signifi-cant art while expressing myself and reflecting mylife.’ To have had this artist among the pages ofWalkingBlind has been a real treat, with his greatuse of color, quality of work, and his show of pas-sion we wish him good luck as he continues to fol-low his dreams that reflect so much in his artwork.

Yo

shim

i the

Afte

r Ba

llet b

y Ma

rk Ma

gn

aye

Flo

atin

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y Ma

rk Ma

gn

aye


Junia’s philosophical mind is best de-scribed as a deep cistern of alternativebeauty. Upon discovering her poetry I foundit to be capturing. Her verses envelopes itsreaders into a universe filled with mind-numbing reality and intoxicating wordusage. Her style rivals the best works inpublication today. Although she doesn’t callherself a writer her readers think differently.

Gunjan is a teenager taking the worldby storm with her fresh verses and rationalthat will put any reader on the spot.Her poetic forms range from haikus to son-nets and lyrics taking on many shapes de-pending on her real life experiances.Though 15 she is already developing into amature writer with each poem she com-pletes.

The depth with which Mr. Frost writeswill cause the reader to ponder their ownintellect. Simply complex is how it appearsbefore the populous disguised as a com-mon entity, but as you start to read eachstanza opens up another realm of reason-ing. If intense poetry is your style Mr.Frostis here to accommodate your literary ap-petite.

After reading the short bio by Mr. Cotiera big question mark appears over one’shead as you ponder on his definition ofstyle. His childhood among defectivekitchenware has shaped his writing intosomething inbetween epic and facetious.When reading his creations expect to findyourself submerged beneath thick layersof truth, and crazed revelations.

Anton Frost is a 24 year old poet liv-ing in Grand Haven, Michigan. He says: Iam a poet simply because I believe in po-etry, same as I believe in the profoundhuman capacities for contradiction, para-dox, villainy and love. Good or bad in any-one's estimation, used or unrealized, ourcapabilities are simply there. Poetry isthere, where I happen to find myself. So Iwrite.

Gunjan

“I'm just a teenager who acts in a mod-ern way but thinks in an old-fashionedway. I write how I feel rather than talk-

ing it out to people.”

Shane Alden Cotier a 29 year-oldearthhuman who was raised in a den ofwild toasters, George Foreman Grills,and other kitchen appliances gone bad.His writing styles include (but are not lim-ited to) "mostly ignored" & "completely ig-nored," as well as the ever popular"scrawled in crayon," and, of course, theclassic "Shaolin Tiger Style."

Junia Pholprasert

“i am not a poet. or a writer. i am just alittle more each time i write. if you wereto ask me to define what it is that i write,

i would only define it is not.”

48

Anton Frosthttp://antonfrost.deviantart.com/

Buy a package of light bulbs at any store and inevitable one bulb in the box will outshine the rest. Italways happens, it just seems more luminous. It doesn’t look dissimilar from the other bulbs on the outsidebut somewhere at the factory it got wired a little differently on the inside, its just so intense! You may askwhat am I going on about lighting fixtures for in the literary column of an art magazine. The answer isthis, like the bulbs there are poets and then there are poets. There are some that put verse to a pagestep back and its good but then there are others, the Keats, the Whitman’s that stand out from the rest.What makes their writing different is intensity, the force of motivation and feeling behind the verse. Whentalking about intensity twenty four year old writer / poet Anton Frost from Grand Haven, Michigan shineslike that one bulb I was talking about. Writing with clarity and dang good style is good thing but you haveto back it up with feeling with passion to capture the heart and mind of the reader and Anton Frost doesjust that. Its an interesting occurrence characteristic of the best poets to consider themselves as suchnot because they have the ability to place verse on a page in an aesthetically pleasing manner but becausethey believe in the power of the words themselves to change the lives of not only the reader but the writeras well. They believe that words have a life and a breath in there own right. This is exactly what Antonsays in regards to his own work. Anton’s work is more than just writing, its an expansion of one’s horizonsbut I’ll let you the reader be the judge rather then attempt to place myself as end authority on the subject.

On "body" – (a brief description of the poetical work by Anton Frost)It is the best translation I could muster of myself, limbs centered on the torso, a core that trembles liketree shadows in the wind--all substantial and immaterial at once. I say as little as possible about mypoems. It's all there, and like a blatant crime, it is done, and explains itself. The truth behind a poem, itsessence in every line, is what should be discussed. Poetry is so paradoxical in that it provides resolutionwhile at the same time rarely presenting answers, and while it may sometimes be a response to query,more than asking questions, it is a cageless acknowledgment and celebration of mystery. I never questionanybody's poem, I just celebrate it, and it is always enough.

On "Continuation" – (a brief description of the poetical work by Anton Frost)A poem in the midst. The dance that follows stillness. Harvest, then feast. Writing a poem is a reward foroutlasting your despair that everything has left you. Most of the time you rely on your stillness, and yourability to sit doing nothing and simply be, if only for an instant, then you get a hit on your line and the worldthrashes. Your head swims with the beautiful moment, the incessant revelation that you are alive in thisboundless place. All the words, so familiar they are a part of you; the sky dances around you at times likethat. Everything turns over, shows its other side. The moon is on the other side of the earth, but you canfeel it spin, looking more like yin and yang than a coin of cheese. This poem's merit for me is the recol-lection of how I walked down the street, under the glowing overcast, and felt I would burst if I didn't dance,or write.


Gunjanhttp://guitargirl94.deviantart.com/

One of our chosen artists that I believe really needs her day in the sun is Gunjan. Rarely doyou find a flower in the eve of the day slowly blossoming to show the world its true hue. We arepleased to have such a young flower saturating the pages of Walkingblind with her craft. To ex-plain her way of writing I would say that Gunjan writes her poems as if she is a master lapidary.With a careful hand, and a steady eye the master studies the precious rock and determineswhat shape it will be cut into, how rough the edges should be and how long it will take for it tobecome fully matured. When asked about the motivation behind her writing she says: I write

from real life experiences. Everything I write has crossed my mind at one point in my life. It is

written when the feeling is fresh in my mind. Once it gets too late and the feeling has drifted, I

just leave it alone and wait for another thought which I get down on paper. Life experiences aswell as the emotions compounded on top of them as we all know have a way of revealing ourdemons and angels, harnessing those way ward strands of fleeting memories and molding theminto coherent sentences is a challenge even for the best poets. For those who pick up the batonand don the mantle of high standards a style of unprecedented distinction will be their reward,this writer is no exception to that pragmatic truth. She doesn’t write with a motive in mind nordoes she have a set plan or format for her words to fit into. Gunjan understands that words arenot like water which takes the form of whatever is around, disguising itself as the material thatcontains it. A dangerious writer is one who refuses to wall in her words not to say anything againstthose who cherish structured verses. Introducing Gunjan has been my pleasure and honor sowithout carrying on any further may I present the evidence of my proclamation.

On Buried Alive: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Gunjan)This piece is about startinga new life but still missing and remembering the one you lost. You want to believe you're happywith this new one but there's always the little things you're holding onto. The pain and regret iswhat hurts even when you're happy, because you can't ever forget every memory. One of thefew rules I live by is that no matter how much your heart breaks, keep every promise you oncemade to your heartbreaker; be the better person.

On God, If You're Out There: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Gunjan)This is a piecefrom the point of view of somebody who used to believe in God but after being let down so much,there is little hope in them that God will return and save them from the pain they're living in.


Shane Alden Cotierhttp://youinventedme.deviantart.com/[email protected]

When asked about his approach to writing Shane Cotier replies: “Shaolin Tiger Style”, caught offguard my mind wondered to visions of Kung Fu Panda as Po and Tai Lung battled through the temple.Stumbling back to reality I fussed over various logical conclusions and even was about to consult anintelligent family member before the truth smacked me in the head; writing can be described as a typeof martial art. By comparing his way of molding verses to a rigorously driven tradition dating back thou-sands of years he was revealing to us his thoughts on the techniques of writing as a whole. Shane hasmental and physical control over his poetry, it shows in each break of line and curve of descendingstanzas. He lets his poetry freeform from his mind and develops it on the way down to his paper, or il-luminating computer screen. Just as martial arts relies on a force unseen, such as the chi, so doesShane’s poetry also venture into the metaphysical, the reality beyond what is perceptible to the nakedeye. Think of Mr. Cotier’s writing as unconventional imagery. In conjunction with his view of style headds this statement to the fold: “On the off chance someone wonders why it is he writes, he is invariablymystified by both the question and the sudden interest. If he had to answer that question, particularlyin the third person, he would say he writes because he has to -- it is an overwhelming urge that leavesno choice. He writes to stop his arms & hands from flapping like startled birds, and to briefly stall theinevitable explosion his head will one day experience.” The purpose for writing can be as numerousas the many stars in the sky to writers, it could be anything from the gentle innocence in a child’s eye,or the strong belief that what you do counts. For this writer it’s an act done repeatedly to ward off whathe believes is the end of his cranium as a whole. What he describes holds a lot of truth, when readinghis work a sense of pressure fills you as if the words themselves have entered into you mind and ex-panded triple their normal size. Taking in this writer’s poetry is an experience the reader will neverregret even as his poetic martial art invades the crevices of common thinking.

On The Modern Air Condition: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Shane Cotier) this poemwas written one day while trying to write a poem with words in it. In this instance, and perhaps in thisinstance only, he succeeded with gusto.

On Something To Write About at Home: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Shane Cotier) isone of Shane's "World Famous" road poems. It was written on a train ride to Upstate New York. Youcould say it's a poem about trains, microwaved bagels, and longing. Then again, you're quite free tosay it's about chocolate unicorns, raspberry sunsets, and the wacky adventures of a hobo named Griz-zlefoot. Shane really doesn't mind, either way.


Junia Pholpraserthttp://vampiricbunny.deviantart.com/

A great French politician and philosopher once said “To become truly great, one has to stand withpeople, not above them.” Humility is the virtue many believe all other virtues hinge upon and it is a rareoccasion to find a person that is honestly truly humble in the face of their own brilliance. Enter seven-teen year old poet Junia Pholprasert; brilliantly talented and steeped in deep philosophical musingsher writing looms large, overwhelming beautiful and seductively intellectual in a way that would say toher peers catch me if you can! To many, in this class of writers to be questioned about their work wouldopen a segway into a lengthened discourse of personal pronouns and shameless self -indulgence, butwhen we questioned this poet on her writing and the driving motivation behind it , Junia, in an uncommonact of great humility, simply stated ” I am not a poet. or a writer. I am just a little more each time i write.”Choosing to grow each time from the experience of writing and the accolades that follow rather thento allow only ones ego to become enlarged is the mark of a humble human being and a truly greatwriter. Junia’s style drives the poetic art out of the realm of the existential norm and on through to thetranscendental beyond ordinary sight or common experience, in short, it’s a powerful force commandingone’s full attention . Junia’s philosophy on writing reaches a true level of wisdom far beyond her yearsas you will read here in her own descriptions of her poetry and how she approaches the art. Junia-“My motivation to write is like that of other peoples. i find muses around me, the ghosts around me, theworld around me, and a world i made up. i like to write about the lines between them. I guess if andwhen i am writing for someone else, i want to bleed out pretty words from my ugly body. I write for mymother. if you were to ask me to define what it is that I write, I would only define it is not! I approachwriting as a form of escapism, but also I acknowledge it as a form of art. I’d rather call it an art, as op-posed to an expression despite that it is an expression. I think that poetry without expression is beautifulon it’s own right because it is still art.” Junia places herself at a level on par with other writers withinher field, however, as you will see this statement is a by product of her great humility towards her art.We find her work a cut above the rest and truly something to brag about!

On Opium: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Junia Pholprasert}I wrote this for a friend who has a discrete infatuation with opiate influenced chemicals. It encircles herperception over society, and my perception over reality. However, to say that ‘you’ is her is only halftrue. That is because I believe that every being in the earth can be personified into the fragility of a bal-loon, especially one of which harnesses opium. the smoke of opium could effortlessly end it’s plasticlife, yet it can embody it for the purpose of levitation. if i were to illustrate the idiosyncratic traits of ahuman being, then I would say they are sinless ( or at least a universe close to ‘sinless’). However, noone is sinless, so no one is truly humane. This tainted sanctuary we call earth is a turning façade, be-cause of the contamination of our own hands – such as the life of a balloon shortens with every touch.I was implying a caveat, almost – one day the universe will belittle itself small enough to fit in my smallmouth.

On Cherry: - ( a brief description of the poetical work by Junia Pholprasert}This could be derived within two transgress ocular depictions. The first is self destruction of the humanbody by mutilation. The latter is a portrayal of the world of water and world of reality. I have named this‘cherry’, because cherry beads are very pretty. Despite how grotesque these acts may seem, simplicityis always clean and pretty. As for the ‘air being too much to breathe’ this is perception over reality beingover bearing so escapade in the vein of fabrication was needed. This could be the most humane pieceI have ever written.


body:a settingmapped in blood,

electrified bordersof touch,

a warm colonnade,

a corridorof passages.

lips kissingeach breath,

the rotary verve,an occupied pattern,

messages sentand receivedsub rosa,

serials unread,intuited.

swarmsconverge,conqueredinto the shapeof limbs,eyes,

reach defined.

we dancein our bodies:

sort and expressthe disparate elementsof a song often sung--

partshemming themselvesinside of expansion;

galactic anatomy,explosive,on its own verge.

it breathesand wakes;welcome.

Body by Anton Frost


Trapped in a paradise,With no way out.

Stuck in utopia,With evil far behind.

But somehow I'm imprisoned;Tormented yet smiling.

This suffering makes meBleed out my happiness.

Living under this convincing pretenseHurts my heart as the sun goes down.

I continue to keep my vowsAnd break the midnight silenceWith my own tears.

I tell others who believe meThat I never lie.

But everything I say to the other dimensionJust kills me inside.

Under my skin is where lies the truth;The things that I cannot reveal.

Nobody can cut through my fleshAnd dig up the truth.

Only one being knows the spot with the red cross,Scarred into me for the rest of this life.

But now I wonder if those memories are still being re-membered.

Do you still listen to our lullabies?Do they help you get to sleep at night,Or do they rip you apartLike they do to me?

You don't want to recover those dreamsBecause you know you just need one more fallTill your shallow heart will stop beating.

But you're the only oneWho can save me this timeFrom being buried alive.

Buried Alive by Gunjan


I'd been drug sniffedaddled & otherwiseby agents indeepbluesdemandingpoints of originquestioning allegiancemis-orre-placed

hope to heart to godlike father thoughtorhand to fist to mouthlike mother taught

as if no one hadcolored those paleshades ofin between

so I shookas all good bookstaught me

stretched taughttowarda sinuoustrailof spreadskin

a constanta(c)cord

a consistentconnectionto the shapeyou've made me

I tried to tracethis journeyas a mapbut found you'dfolded usintosong

Something To Write About at home byShane Alden Cotier


Opium by Junia Pholprasert

the universe is pale.

i`ve swallowed itarms firstinto my mouth

open wide

coerce inside

i`ve stomachedthe underbellyof profound galaxiesintervenedribbonsof shredded starsand surplus dreams

space is nothing but an absence of dominance

what really does not matter is thatthe earth was softest against my teeth.

humanity and

smoke and mirrors

suck mein society’s deceitful bong,

breathe me

conspiracies fascists extremists hypocrites

sadistic tendencies

and something no moreor lessthan sh*t.

i am a swollen opium balloon:

blue to purple without the red in between.


They're supposed to help outWhen we are in trouble,But after all the pain and suffering,After everything I've endured,I must erase this belief from my heart.

There is no God.

Allah wasn't there for me,Nor was Vishnu.

Yahweh broke the shield,Revealing me to the creaturesThat ate up my mind.

Shangdi threw me off the cliff himself,Shen and Zhu left me in pieces,And Bahà did not help.

Waheguru removed the lightAnd let me rot away.

Odin, if you're really here,Show me a sign that you will keep me happy.

Please, don't betray me once more.

God if Your out There by Gunjan

Disclaimer: This is not meant to be offensive to anybody or any religion. Thereare many God-believing religions left out. I took the names of the Gods in somereligions only. These were chosen by random.


you can' t fallin love witha manfor hishandwritingbut his handwritingis anotherthingentirely

we propose to itadmiringly

we makebowsof our-selves

we makenew wordsfor fireand we

make our realfamiliesstrangers

we takerealstrangersto bed

bodiless skullscacklin' madlyat theneckswho've losttheir heads

The Modern Air Condition byShane Alden Cotier


Cherry by Junia Pholprasert

I’ll wear your braclet of cherry beads.

Draw me apretty pinkheart

on my wrist so I can wear him under my sleeve.

The steelis warmestin the water.

-mouthless-

You kiss mewith cherry lips.

Spitting outlayersand layersof me.

-stiletto sliting substratums-

The air is foreign

curious hypocritical treacherous

-animalistic conspiracies-

I’ll remain inthe water

-solace-

where thereisn’ttoo much tobreathe.

My flesh is weepingpale tears

-surrendering-as another basin ofcherry beads blossom.


the sun eclipses shadow.i am overcome by my body.

my breath wreathesmy being,

a red garland,pulsating,

a doorand the dramaof being opened.

i feel myself emerge,into movement,patterned, intent.

the coreoutward;

i am exemptfrom substance,swaying

on the colorand lightdancing like twin sisters,

on the music and movement,orbital.

i touch rock,stone of timebeyond reckoning,

old historiesvisitedand discarded,

what good are they to me,i to them?

the streetcontinues.

the desert persists.

the sea retreatsand the moonadvances with itspale floodwatersinto the night.

desireis a light burningspace.

hair engulfedin the wind,

sun-smoked, transient,entranced,hazes and phrasingthe continuation,the illimitable syllable.

we drive our interiorsfurther in,and out--our ejection.

the air is charged,rain-washed,electrical.

a buzzingcircles,descends.

blind skysound downfrom sky,formless

drips echoingin the storm-drain,

taste of ironin the sound.

blood songsung by water--

cool erasuredry breathingheavysodden wet

sight is for the bold,looking,looking...

i walk and standatop my own pillar.

i feelwhat surpasses touch.

the rain continues,and the ignition,taking eons, of the suncontinues;

the moon continues,the rotationsand tides,

shoresand storms,

the menusand search parties,

the doorwaysand nights,

dreams anddawning flowersof day continue,

this place,my eyes and passages,this one surpassingcontinuation.

Continuation byAnton Frost


With crossed legs and inter-laced fingers I stared withenvious joy at my niece asher tiny body suffered under

a mass of disheveled blankets. Thechild’s breathing came in short gasps andthroaty wheezes as her sporadic heart-beat set the EKG ablaze, raking my nailslightly over the hospital’s chair I tappedthem impatiently keeping in rhythm withthe frantic flickers of her eyes under blueveined lids. The salty sweat forming onher brow grew fat and pooled at the sidesof her head, filling her inner ear with fluid.I hated her, the sun rose above moun-tains to peek at her as she lived and themoon became obese with restless soulsto accent her gorgeous features as shedied.

The features she inherited from me theone who carried her parasitic form be-tween the roots of my womb for a barrensister who couldn’t hold onto the sweetthread of life long enough to see her face.What a shame it had been to bury whatwas left of my beloved sister’s body be-side her cantankerous witch of a mother.With a stone heart I arose from the chairand slowly ambled my way to her sideheels silently kissing the cold ashen-gray

floor. Raising a hand I lightly brought itdown upon her head and stroked her limpbrown curls. Opening her matching violeteyes she sleepily gazed at me “momma”she called weakly and I scowled at thetitle but let it pass this time “yes Anelia”.Her ignorant innocence spilled over in theform of visible fairy tears that I gentlywiped away “Am I going to die like thedoctor said?” I nodded assuring her of thefact “but I’m almost five” “all die, it is a glo-rious triangle set up by an infinite being,but you will get a special death…One thatwill help you continue to live on” “liveon?...will you come visit me?” “thankfullyno.” With my smirk like smile I urged herback to sleep “take her before her bodybecomes a waste” I whispered and as ifsummoned a black silhouette appearedin the corner. “You are a foolish human tobring her body here” “I do as I please” Iwhispered again stroking her nose.

With no warning the creature leapt intothe air as if to take flight and landed like alion on the other side of Anelia’s bed. Thetraitorous walls circulated his gloriousspicy fragrance until the hallucinogenicswirled into my nostrils causing my teethto chatter. Biting the inside of my cheek Icontinued to stare at the girl as the glow

Surreal - Mate

A short story by Kendra Gimblet


in her skin started to fade “you must hurryand take her, she will be gone before thehour’s out” “such a smart human” he saidslowly pronouncing each word as if hisslimy tongue was sliding off the backs ofthem “I wonder if she will taste as goodas you do”. With smoldering eyes Isquared my bare brown shoulders andlifted my chin sharply in his direction, hestood before me in the form of a palehuman with a tight black sweater clingingto his deformed ribs and an oversizedtrench coat holier than a Catholic priestbarely hanging from his frame. “I doubther essence will be anything to barterwith, after all half of it belongs to you” awildly barbaric smile drew itself with richcharcoal upon his lips and the eyes of ademonic spirit vibrated an envious greeninside of his sockets.

The allure of his scent and beckoningeyes summoned desire like a pagan gath-ering in my chest and with each twitch ofhis face it grew bigger. “She does look abit like me” he said turning to Anelia andgrabbing a fist full of hair, angling the girl’shead toward the moonlight he sniffed herbrow and nodded proudly. “I am pleased,you and I make a good product” hepicked a foot off of the hospital’s floor andwhen he put it back down my line of visionwas swimming with his tall image. “Wewill still be needing your services” he saidletting a light shudder pass into and outthrough his body as he drooled lightly. “Iwill not” my heart sped up and his eyesrolled into the back of his head “you sayno, but your soul screams otherwisemaybe you two should have tea some-time” I raised my hand to slap him but asmy fingers collided with his marble tonedskin he lashed out and shoved me sohard I went sprawling into the far wall.

“Here let me help you stand” he hissedinto my ear “leave me!” I spat holding myright side.

His chuckling filled the night air and Ialmost didn’t sense my body being liftedup until I was pressed into the wall thathad only a few seconds ago become mymortal enemy. “Leave you!” his voice bel-lowed like a drunk man’s against the floorand ceiling “leave you! you pledged yourlife to me, wasn’t it you who begged mykin folk to save your soul from such a piti-ful homosapian existence. You who de-voted yourself to our history and way ofliving, even your thoughts mirror our veryown, you belong to me” “was it not youwho stalked me!” “for prey my lovely mateonly to drain you of every thriving tendrilwithin your spiritual cistern, I will not denythat I courted your aroma, but my dearyou mustn’t think that it was one sided.”The human in me began to weep tears ofacid from the inside of myself, I could feelthe tears under the skin trail down myskull and cyclone to the pitiful bones ofmy feet. The other half of me poisonedwith long years and knowledge turned tothe creature as his swarm of black hairrattled with excitement. With one lastglance at Anelia I nodded a silent good-bye to her “do not worry when she learnshow to cover her natural body with ahuman disguise she will come back to thisworld and visit you” he said impatiently“until then…” I sensed his charcoal smileand closed my eyes. With as muchstrength as I could muster I wrapped myarms around his upper back and pulledhim down to my presented neck, pressingthe back of my head against the wall asdrops of saliva met my throat in longstrands and hot breath massaged goosebitten flesh. “Stop playing with your food!”

Surreal - Mate


I barked and with that a hundred knife-liketeeth pierced into me sending blood pour-ing down my chest in a rush of red.

The vile creature drunk like a dehy-drated man barred from all water and Iwas his well, black slowly crept into my vi-sion, spidering the corners of my eyesand the only sound my ears strained tohear was a constant gulping. Holdingonto my last strands of dignity I bracedmyself for each time he clinched his jawto milk more blood from me. Though Icould not hold on when his venom beganto enter me burning the wounds heopened and filling the cavities that usedto be full of blood until I was so plumbfrom it my ears and eyes excreted histoxic poison.

He released me and I slumped onto awhite stand, taking a chance I looked overand saw him face buried in the puddle ofblood that gathered onto the floor, whenfinished he stood with a face full of evil joyand a smudge of my blood on his cheek.Reaching up I wiped my DNA from hisface and he shivered “We’re not done yet”he gargled and with that I fainted.

Dreams are such bizarre things, I amliving two lifetimes in one and my knowl-edge rivals that of any flesh born humanor surreal being yet…dreams are sohauntingly obtuse. I remember just beforeI gave my life away in return for a newmanifestation of forever, I had just gottento the middle of a new book called ‘Drac-ula’ when my father came into the studyand in a drunken rage tore the clothesfrom my teenage body and beat me withfists and horse whip. He was in pain be-cause I held the beauty and eyes of awoman who used him up and then dis-carded him like a lovelorn delivery boy. Itwas in that moment that I called out to my

dark stalker and the window exploded ashe rushed in, before my father could turnaround his neck was mangled and a handpunched itself through his chest. Whenlooking into the eyes of my savior I saw…darkness such darkness. “Ma’am wakeup, ma’am?” a bright light flickered fromeye to eye and they responded to the an-noying invasion with a glare at the womanbreathing in my face so hard I could smellthe end of her life.

“Can you hear me?” “how can I not,what your voice lacks in buoyancy yourface picks up in candidness” I sneered.She backed up and pointed her nose sky-ward. “Well you’ve been out for a week,we thought you were going to die” shesaid as I sat up “you have an accent” Isaid “where am I?” “Kildare” “Ireland…”she nodded “a nice couple found you andbrought you in” rolling my eyes I got outof bed.” Shuffling into new clothes Iheaded for the door “see you in sevenmonths” she said and I stopped “what?”“your with child, and he’s growing like aweed he is” “he?” “yes woman a nicestrong boy! What will you name him?”touching my stomach I said “BastianDragomir” “after your husband?” “no, aftermy mate.”

Surreal - Mate


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Colgate Smile by Coulombic

Cameras: Canon EOS 5D, In-frared-modified Canon EOS 5D,Canon EOS 1Ds MK III

Lenses: Canon EF 16-35mmf/2.8L, Canon EF 16-35mm

f/2.8L II, Canon EF50mm f/1.4, Sigma24-70mm f/2.8 Macro

www.flickr.com/pho-tos/coulombic

http://.coulombic.deviantart.com

http://500px.com/coulombic

http://1x.com/v2/#?action=myprofile&u=49368

CoulombicGabe Farnsworth

I’m not sure how old I was, but I happened

across a series of images from Ansel Adams.

Growing up in the early 1980s was,as many of us remember, a little dif-ferent than life today. Instead of dig-ital cameras, DVDs, and speakingof gigabytes of memory, we hadfilm, and magnetic tape. Life haschanged more than a fair bit sincethen. Photograph albums are arelic; a throwback to a time that was,but is no longer. Replaced with itwe have digital collages, iPhoto, Pi-

casa. . . a strange replacement, en-tirely sterile, and lacking the emo-tional sentimentality of holdingsomething physical. I picked up myfirst camera at an early age andbegan playing with it. I remembermy mother’s large hands cradlingmine as we held her old Olympus35mm together; the cold steel in myembrace, my fingers not quite largeenough to hold the camera and

Photographer


OTTER BEACH Good Fortune Cove

I'm new at this "waterscape" thing. Idon't think many of my images haveturned out particularly well, but it's alearning process. Plus, there reallywasn't all that much sunlight, so thelighting, in general, was rather blandfor my time spent around the coast.To make matters worse, my Hitech1.2 GND filter very obviously color-casts.

Taken down the US-101 sceniccoastal highway in Oregon nearCape Perpetua. In the case you'rewondering, I was drenched rightafter this shot. Not lightly misted, butcompletely, full-body drenched. Itwas incredibly loud whenever thewaves would crack against thejagged basalt. I have pictures rightafter this where the water impactedme and my camera.


Fear Me by Coulombic

operate its functions all at the same time. It felt so heavyand awkward; my thumb straining with the assistance ofmy mother’s hand to wind the film. Quite honestly, I wasless interested in taking pictures than the mechanical ac-tions and composition of the camera, itself. Slowly, how-ever, over the course of a few years, with the guidedassistance of my mother, I grew to appreciate and enjoyexactly what a camera did, more than the hardware thatcomprised it.

My initial images were nothing beyond a sentimentalvalue – not even so much to me, but to my parents. Acompromise was made, always, when deciding whichwere to be printed. Naturally, I was adamant that all ofthem were worthy of printing, but money was tight, andmy mother had the final say after looking through thenegatives. Picking up prints was always a joyful time.The excitement of seeing exactly what was captured issomething I will never forget; something the new gener-ation of photographers, many of them, will never know.I’m not sure exactly how old I was, but I happened acrossa series of images from Ansel Adams. While I’d seen na-ture photography before, naturally, his study of nationalparks moved me in a pretty substantial way.

Ansel’s work, more than anything, directed me towardlandscape photography, not simply with the goal of cap-turing nature not only as I see it, but capturing what isfelt. Ultimately, more than capturing a technically perfect,beautiful image, that’s really the goal. A sense of sad-ness does overtake me when I think about the transitionover the last 20 years, however. While the photogra-pher’s intentions are largely the same, the overall imple-mentations have changed substantially. Photographywas about prints not all that long ago; those few cher-ished images from the roll converted into somethingphysical. Now, it’s less about the prints, and more aboutthe sheer number of images taken. Albums and familytime spent sitting around, viewing historical moments ofeach others’ lives almost a thing of the past. While the

He's real! An owl I mistakenly awoke while hik-ing through Paria Canyon in Southern Utah. Iinadvertently woke him up by brushing againstthe small tree in which he was sleeping. Hetumbled, fell, and got up, only to conjure hismost fearsome posture. Needless to say, itwas hard to actually be intimidated, due to thesituation, the sleep in his eyes, and his/herdiminutive stature.


Paria by Coulombic

Paria Canyon as seen throughinfrared. In the backgroundimage in the red rock you seethe wave of the North CoyoteButtes, the morning light onsandstone can be particularlyvibrant. Of all the images ofthe Wave, located in PariaCanyon AZ/UT, floating aroundout there, this one, specifically,is pretty uncommon, as I hadto crab-walk out onto a ledge,then around a bit of a cliff to getthis. I seriously thought I wasgoing to fall.

“Photography was about prints not all

that long ago; those few cherished im-

ages from the roll converted into some-

thing physical.”

“Just some Guy with a couple of ex-

pensive cameras trying to get by in

this crazy world.”

photographer’s intentions are largely the same, the overall implementations have changedsubstantially. Photography was about prints not all that long ago; those few cherished imagesfrom the roll converted into something physical. Now, it’s less about the prints, and moreabout the sheer number of images taken. Albums and family time spent sitting around, viewinghistorical moments of each others’ lives almost a thing of the past. While much has certainlychanged over the last 20 years in photography, for many, the ultimate goals have not. Still,as photographers, the desires are the same. We’re still working to create both beautiful andmoving images. Film or digital, I would still hold the same views about what makes a greatphotograph; my toolset would be entirely different, but my mindset would be much the same.


Pansa Sunavee

Mr. Camera

Born: 26 July 1972, Saraburi, Thailand.Education1983 Ban Moh Patanarat School1986 Satit Tephsatree Teachaer College School1989 Faculty of Art, Lopburi Technical College.1991 Diploma of Thai Art, Poh-Chang Institute.1998 B.A. Philosophy, Ramkhamhaeng University.Current Residence: Phitsanulok ThailandSpecialty: Fine art photo & Abstract paintingWebsite : www.pansa-art.com




Denis Grzetic

Walkingblind Magazine75

It is seldom, in this digital age, one runsacross tone and balance as technicallyperfect as found in the photography ofDenis Grzetic. With Weston like finesseeach monochrome print is a masterpieceof light and shadow in and of themselves.This award winning photographer hasachieved a style and a clarity in his im-ages most strive for but find very elusive.Once called a “quiet light” by AnselAdams the eloquence of luminosity inDenis’s photos is hard to beat.

Born 1964 in Pazin (Croatia) and startingwith photography in 1984, Denis shot onlyblack and white and developed in his owndarkroom at that time....Working for a fewdifferent newspapers Denis found his wayinto several group exhibitions takingsome awards in the Grisia-Rovinj Youthfestival in Pazin. For various reasonsDenis stopped doing photography in 1990and returned once again on 1999. Denisrecalls most of his interest for visual art

Daydreaming In Carteret by Denis Grzetic

Obi...II by Denis Grzetic


terest lie in black and white photographyand that interest continues to this day.Denis doesn’t express an interest incolor photography even if, as he claims,"it is better to see a good color picturerthen a bad black and white one." Some-time, Denis said, I hear opinions thatsome styles are better suited to color butI dont agree; before color photographyeven existed everything was shot inblack and white. All kinds of differentstyles, no matter what they are there arephotographers that have tried to ex-press themselves with the black andwhite pallete. "We have color but nowbut I just dont find my interest liesthere.....but of course that is just myopinion and many will disagree.

We asked Denis who it was that hefound as his inspiration when he wasgetting into the art of photography, hisanswer was; film directors like LuisBunuel, John Ford, Andrei Tarkovsky,

started with movies and film. He's a bigfilm fan with movies very often being asource of greatest inspiration. Answeringour interview questions Denis expressedan interest in paintings too but stated "Iam not very good with that and I just staythere as a observer...but anything that isaround me is inspiration for me, people,nature or just life itself." Denis tries to tella story with some of his photography andoften times is able to capture a momentthat somehow "fits" to his vision...."WhenI started in 1984, in that time i didnt knowmuch about technique, I knew that my in-

Kada...Just for fun byDenis Grzetic

A church near Sitia by Denis Grzetic

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Quiet Flight Denis Grzetic

Debate by Denis Grzetic

thirds" We hope you enoyed Denis’simagery as much as we did. His tim-less style truly is one you feel youmust return to over and over again.we look forward to seeing a lot morefrom this talented artist in the future.

Sergei Eisenstein and some are pho-tographers like Ansel Adams, Cartier-Bresson, croatian photographer TošoDabac etc. In the end it is for viewerto deicide if something is interestingin some way in some of my picturesand is not necessary that he or sheshare the same vision with me. Agood photograph is, I think, where theobserver is motivated to see that pic-ture again and again and find some-thing new each time, even a verysimple piece of sea and sky it doesntmatter really what the motitation is.

Denis's equipment is stright forward:A canon 5d with 17-40L lens, A CanonF-1 (film camera), an Olympus E-1with 14-54 and 25 mm pancake lenssome tripods and various ND filters...Want to learn more about this photog-rapher, you can find him on websiteslike "DeviantArt.com","Art Limited","Photo Net", "Fotozine" and "My Four

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Dr. Lee Hunter Edd.

PostCards

From Cambodia

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Enter Dr. Hunter, My brother in law - teacher, father,musician, photographer, and very frequent flyer. Onany other day, when not teaching He and his wife (my sister) can be found traveling the globe living thekind of life most only dream of but few ever experi-enced. From the jungles of Ecuador to the moun-tains of Peru, then a flash across Europe, passingthrough Egypt and dining in China this is one verywell traveled teacher! He ‘s the kind of professor youhope for when signing up for a class, never dull andalways intriguing, but we’re not here to sit in sociol-ogy class. The images on that disk were from oneof his trips to Cambodia and though he does not con-sider himself to be a professional photographer, thepictures were simply amazing. But who is this worldtraveler let Dr. Hunter himself tell you his story.

In the 60s I attended Georgia Southern College ma-joring in psychology and anthropology. In 1967 myanthropology professor assigned the class to scourthe countryside 'confiscating' artifacts that reflectedthe state's racist history. A lot of bathroom and waterfountain signs were stolen. These were shaped intoan exhibit piece. It was an invigoratingtime, even in rural Georgia. We were ableto open a coffee house, travel to sev-eral civil rights marches, a n d

On any given day you will usually find Dr.

Lee Hunter hard at work at Orange County

Community College in Middletown NY, doing

what he does best “teaching sociology,” but

on any other its an entirely different matter. If

you call he won’t pick up the phone, because

where he’s going there aren’t any!!!

Not too long ago I received a disk in mymail box, stumbling into my office Idropped it in my computer and pro-ceeded on a journey. This was not soft-ware or sales content, there were no adshere, in fact where I was going on thatCD there weren’t even any roads. I hadno fear of what I would find on that disk,knowing the person who had sent it tome, there was only anticipation of someIndiana Jones like crusade across someexotic far off landscape.


meet Rev. King. In 1969 I became one of the first graduate stu-dents studying humanistic psychology at WestGeorgia College. Grad students lived together ina community and offered week-end therapygroups for people from Atlanta. It was an alter-native program with no tests. We all discoveredthat we learned much more when we were re-sponsible for our own experiences. By 1973 Ihad a Master's Degree and was teaching psy-chology in downtown Baltimore. In 1977 Imoved to Boston to study sociology of educa-tion at Boston University and earned my doc-toral degree in 1983. My dissertation dealt withthe impact of mass production methods onschool lessons aimed at teaching children how

to handle their money. Instead of saving, they weresupposed to spend wisely. That would keep the econ-omy going. While in Boston my daughter Risë was bornand I worked with my wife as co-manager of a privatepsychiatric halfway house.

I devoted a lot of time in my life to music. In the 60s Iwas part of the folk music scene in Atlanta. At times dur-ing the 70s and 80s I traveled around thecountry collecting songsinspired by events inU.S. history like WorldWars I and II, the GreatDepression, the SpaceRace, the Cold War,etc. I would sing thesongs at colleges,museums, and his-torical sites and Irecorded two cas-settes for sale atmuseums andhistorical sites.My wife and I

81 Walkingblind Magazine

now orient our lives around two priorities- teaching classes and traveling to thefar corners of the planet - Australia,China, Costa Rica, Thailand, Egypt,Ecuador, Peru, and Cambodia. No classyhotels or beach lounging. We travel bypublic transport and sleep in backpackerhotels or jungle eco-lodges. I am trying tolearn how to take good photographs of an-cient sites and jungle wildlife.

Every semester I teach SOC 101, the intro-ductory course, on Mondays, Wednesdays,and Fridays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Ioffer SOC 120, Social Problems. This classfocuses on the crises caused by the concen-tration of wealth and power in the hands of thesuper-rich who use their money to control

politicians and make billions for themselves ma-nipulating global markets. We all lose. Ameri-cans need a good health care system andbetter schools. College should be inexpensiveand full of exciting and challenging courses.


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Dear reader, This months issue marks thebeginning of Walkingblind Magazine’s pre-miere voyage to bring you the finest pho-tographic images the world has to offer.From the surreal to the sublime we embark

on a epic journey beyond the travel photos and snap-shot crazed tourist to the meat of the photographiccommunity. Our quest will carry us deep under-ground through winding labyrinths of cavernous gal-leries fleshing out the purest deposits of silver halidesever to grace the facade of the ferrotyped universe.But before we stap on our helmets and tighten ourcamera straps I would like to share with you somemeditations on the role of photography as an art formas well as a postulate on why we become photogra-phers in the first place. So join me for a different per-spective, and one heck of a ride.

Photography as an art form and professionhas been with us for only a short period oftime, just a a little over a hundred and fiftyyears, however the principles of photographyare much older. Dating back over a 2000years ancient astronomers and sketch artistscast images on the wall of darkened roomemploying a device known as the ‘cameraobsura’ or darkroom. The very word pho-tography is derived from two also very an-cient Greek words, ‘photo’ meaning light and‘graphein’w h i c htranslatedmeans towrite orw r i t i n gwith light.But whatin t r iguesus aboutthe possi-bility of writing with light, about the possi-bilities of preserving for posterity that whichis but a reflection of a past experience who’slight has already faded. When Joseph Niépcemade the first lasting photographic imagecould he have know the immense impact onmodern society as we know it his actionswould have. Like ripples in a pond the reper-cussions of the proverbial stone that hedropped still continue to radiate outward

today pushing the envelope of themedium far beyond what he couldhave ever imagined. Photographyhas blossomed from that momentin time to a tool so necessary to usthat we would literally be lostwithout it. However photographyhas not always been so well re-ceived, photography came on thescene like a whirlwind and flewin the face of painters, sketch

a r t i s t se v e r y -w h e r e .Photog-r a p h e r sw e r ev i e w e das non-a r t i s t susurpingthe glory

due to those who had to work hardwith pen or brush to make animage. To combat this earlystigma many photographers, in anattempt to make the cold hardrecorded image more aestheticallypleasing, purposely blurred theirimages to look more like an im-pressionist painting rather then aphotograph. Fortunately there

were some, those visionary thinkers, that be-lieved photography to be a relevant art formin its own right and worthy of a place in theartistic community and history itself. Indi-viduals like Paul Strand, Alfred Stieglitz ,Edward Weston and of course Ansel Adamsrefused to be intimidated by the opponentsof the photographic camp. Pioneering tech-nique and craft these photographer and oth-ers fought back hard to bring the mediuminto its own. With a purist creed they beganto produce images with a clarity and lumi-nance not seen before. These heralds of thecause the myths and misconceptions as-signed to photographer and set out on a mis-sion to prove that the photographer, notphotography can express the deepest visionsof the human soul. We, who practice thephotographic arts owe these radical claim-stakers of the photographic frontier a debt ofgratitude for their relentless efforts. So whydo we become photographers? I believe it isa calling felt deep within our spirit to relateour most intimate feelings to the world toshow them a moment in time we experiencesomething larger than ourselves. We maynot fully understand what we see through ourviewfinders, however, we do understandhow it made us feel on the inside. It is thatfeeling more then actual representation ofwhat was literally there that we put into thefinal print, it is a piece of our being. Thephotographer seems almost small comparedto the beauty and design of his subject mat-ter, but giant in how it allows them to feelto be able to express that subject in a per-sonal way. Like the story tell of old paintingwith hands on the walls of caves what wecreate is the story of our life and how all thatwe see with our minds eye made us react inthat situation, it is satisfying in our prints topresent sometime in mystical levels thosemost personal visions. Photography be-comes an extension of our soul and allowsus the luxury of being able to relate, in a wayno other means afford, the epiphany, thatrapturous moment the world around uscaused to feel alive. We hope you will enjoythe articles and features to come, and wel-come you on this most magazine journey.

– Alex Dark Photographer

Photography can not ex-press the human soul,but the photographerperhaps can. -Ansel Adams


It is one of the quickest paced jobs a per-son could work at. It ranks on the scale ofneed next to healthcare and agriculture,and it is one of the most mentally andimaginatively demanding career fields onthe planet. It is the field of graphic art anddesign, and it has only one constant- with-out it, we would be a bland, uninformed,emotionally distant world. A lack ofgraphic design or designers would be cat-astrophic. Without convincing advertise-ment, companies would never be able tocompete with one another for consumersupremacy, making products obsolete intheir creation before even one could besold. With smaller corporations and busi-nesses depending on such exposure tokeep their metaphoric “heads” abovewater in the dog-eat-dog environment oftoday, their sales would tank almost im-mediately, forcing them into a door-closingfreeze. It would leave thousands-perhaps,globally, even millions- without a cozy cu-bicle and a company computer to hang

their hat at. Eventually the larger cor-porations would be forced to

merge, laying off evenmore working class

folk. And in thisautomatedtime we live

in, necessaryproducts would

shoot off the as-sembly line with-

out ever knowing somuch as the touch of

a human hand. There-fore, the only viable ca-

reer becomes the touchyterra firma of automation,

and with no choices, naturalselection destroys everyoneunfit for the job. In short, it

Lifeline:

Keeping up in Today’s Graphic Industry

-By Samantha Puchlerz


would be akin to dropping an atomic bombon every major city in the world with the ex-pectation of minimal fallout. Advertisers andgraphic artists keep the wheel turning. Butthat turning also means they must adhere tothe revolution. There can be no rebels in thisfield, except the kind that push to better thehabitat in which they exist. They must notonly push themselves above and beyondthe call of artistic duty to ensure they canmeet any challenge a potential client canheave at them, but remain up to date on theever-shifting industry standards and be con-stantly exposed to new medium. For exam-ple, turn your attention to what is quitepossibly the largest controversy to hit themainstream design world in years- the greatpage layout war. Or, by its more commontitle: QuarkXpress v. Adobe InDesign. Bothprograms are well respected, well createdprograms. And in the end, you can arrive atyour ideal result with either program. Theissue is in the designers themselves. Formany of us, QuarkXpress is or has been away of life. We could use it in our sleep.However, when purchasing Adobe Products,InDesign is bundled in the CS suite. AndAdobe’s shiny new CS5 is certainly nothingto sneeze at. But now the dilemma arises-do we just continue on our merry way withQuark, or do we stake our claim in InDe-sign? The answer is left up to the eye of thebeholder, as so much is in this industry.Even the use of color seems to be changing(Adobe Kuler may have had a hand in that).And that’s just our end of the spectrum.What about the printers of the world? Is any-body still stripping by hand, or are they allgoing DTP? How much is being sent to anoffset press or to your publisher’s tear-jerk-ingly beautiful new Heidelberg? And ofcourse, the all important question everyoneneeds to ask themselves: when is my newwidescreen super hi-def iMac and myWacom Cintiq 21UX going to finally arrive inthe mail? Keeping yourself informed as agraphic designer is the quintessential key tosurviving your day job. The other crucialpart, besides having an obvious and sec-ond-nature understanding of your work and

how to make the vision in your head hit thepaper, is to always try something new. Withthis new era of constant computer updatesand the magnetic pull of the latest and great-est products (though I do not suggest gettingsaid “magnetic pull” near your electronics)“new” is a word I personally find myselfusing at least once a day. So force yourselfto think outside the box. Don’t try to push un-focused thoughts away during your workhours- embrace them and ask yourself howyou can incorporate your freshly discoverednonconformity into your current master-piece. Merge sleek with savvy, funky with el-egant, and see what happens when yourclient either walks in or calls you up withtheir comments on the proof you gave them.99.9 percent of the time it is a winning situ-ation, or at least, one worth trying with themost open minded customer you have n re-tainer. So on your next coffee break, don’tlet yourself mindlessly float away into thatsteaming hot cup o’ joe. Whip out that phoneand budget out some time to check up onnew materials. Maybe even budget yourbudget so you can afford your new toys.Also, embrace the ancient arts, arcane asthey may seem, grab a pen or pencil anddoodle on that napkin or a piece of paper.Because if we turn the wheel, doesn’t itmake sense that one day it will have gonefull circle?

“Samantha was just 14 years old when she

officially began working in the industry and

has now worked for thousands of clients

through her day job and her side project,

“BlakMarket Studios.”


Top row:William Shakespeare - Henry David Thoreau

Bottom row: Walt Witman - edger Allan Poe

All images taken from the public domain

CoherenceA writer on writing by Indigo Reid


vast knowledge and power of a creature whohas been around for hundreds even thou-sands of years, their flesh and nourishmentis now shared with a host who if not takencare of or just evil to begin with will possesthe body using it as its own. Though writersdon’t have to ingest an alien in order to be-come a vessel to words we do have to surren-der our imagination and mind so that theymay take residence within us, this can bedone with or without our ever knowing. Thewisdom that words bring is boundless if youthink about it everything known to man,every particle, every fact and fiction, ever lieor truth every art form has been carried bythe vehicle of words at one time or another.The importance of voice, language and com-munication depends on the functionality ofwords. So you see why I say that writers arevessels not commanders but simple har-nessers of this special life blood that flows

throughout the world.

Something I reallywanted to give attention toin this article is the out-pouring of bottled up tal-ent and the need to writealmost to the point that itappears to be an addictive.If you were to peer into acertain person’s room at

four in the morning every other day youwould see a young woman laying on a Japan-ese futon mattress staring up at a popcornceiling, eyes slightly glazed over dartingfrom one corner of her green gray walls toanother. After a few minutes have passed thewoman would be breaking her neck to getout of bed and turn her laptop computer on,tapping long fingernails on her glass desk asher heartbeat skips like a young frolickingfilly, the cure to her impatience is MicrosoftWord. Of course this person is me and therehave been other incidents where I wouldwrite poetry as I shopped, murmur ‘Ode ona Grecian Urn’ by John Keats to an innocentchild at the park, or hurry a poor cashier upjust so I could scribble on the back of my re-

In many of my articles I start on a highnote in an attempt to give you a men-tal wedgie which I would hope se-cures your eyes to the screen foratleast the beginning paragraph.Since a person normally judge what

they read by the first sentence, I force myselfto produce the best horizontal tower of lex-eme that is in my grasp of power in order toosculate my desired meaning to your mind.While I am unable to accurately pinpoint thewanderings of your thoughts unless youcomment on the website, I am led to hopethat my words have done a proper job. Asyou have probably figured from my horriblyself-centered example above this article isabout the task of harnessing words, to all thewriters, wannabes, and literary novices whodare to dream of a day when words bend toyour will my advice to you is to give up andbecome a court stenographer. Though youcan command usingwords, you cannot com-mand the words yourusing, it is a weird rela-tionship that one whobears the true mark of awriter has, this mark is inthe palms of their handsand when the wordsswell up their veins likethick bile the palms itchesand the fingers respond by throwing livingwormlike letters onto the screen. I am re-minded of a lovely person whom once toldme that she didn’t consider herself a writer,having read her work I smiled lightly andtold her that she and I really had no say in thematter, we are vessels to the oldest form ofcreation.

I can only compare the taking over of ourbodies to this art form to the grotesqueprocess in which a goa’uld from Stargatetakes over a living being. If you are familiarto the goa’uld then you know that they are aparasitic race, that have to take over healthyliving beings in order to survive. When theperson is taken over he or she inherits the

“a writer who bottles up thewords given to him is a tickingtime bomb waiting like a new-born in the back of his mind,uncared for and unattended.”


ceipt. At first I thought it was just me that didthese weird things in public like a druggieneeding her morning, afternoon and dinnertime fixes then I met other writers…real ones;I soon learned that I was not alone in myspastic behavior. There is a reason why awriter who bottles up the words given to himis a ticking time bomb waiting like a new-born in the back of his mind, uncared for andunattended to. I will put it this way, for con-venience sake lets pretend that the Christian‘Bible’ all sixty-six books compiled into onemega slab of knowledge which has beenproven to date back thousands of years, wassuppose to be written by one man. This mana natural born writer goes decades withoutwriting what has taken over his heart andmind, he can’t sleep, eat, or focus like heneeds to and on top of that his palms are ex-cruciatingly itchy. The simple question Iwant to ask you is, do you want to be aroundthat person when the bomb blows up? Writeand save a live.

In the last paragraph I talked about ‘realones’ I am aware that you all are most likelyasking me what a “real one” is, of course Iwas speaking of quality writers which arethose who know what their writing about. Iam a very honest person who doesn’t believein sugar coating the truth just because itwould take too much time, being this wayhelps me to say things boldly with a smile onmy face, and what I have to say is that somewriters new and old write terribly. There aretimes when I read different genres of literarywork and wish I had scholarships to the bestwriting colleges around to pass out likecandy. Discerning good writing from bad isundoubtedly subjective and usually left upto professors to decide, so picking out thebad apple is not a way to look at this delicatesituation. In order to get to the core of anytype of writing you must make contact withthe writer, grammatical and typos can befixed easily but that wont matter if the personis mentally immature. You may be readingthis and feel offended but know that I amtelling the truth, and if we continue to ignore

those who are struggling they will neverlearn what it means to fall in love withfreeform or Shakespearean verses. It is ourjob as the ones who went on before them tohelp them like we hoped someone wouldhave helped us. Am I calling myself an excel-lent writer? No way, I am far from a literarycrown and farther from sanity, I raise mywords against no person and I only hope toone day inspire a fellow writer in his or herown quest of words. I was sitting here think-ing about ways to help someone write better,because even that statement is often left toscrutiny. What we need to really think aboutis what makes a person’s writing style goodperiod and end of story, while asking myselfthat question I remembered what I wrote inan online article about alternative literatureit reads like this ‘What needs to be addressedhere is that the perceived abstractness withinalternative literature is only visual candy acoating of pattern and eye catching glitz. Thisillusion overlays the underlying path andstructure conceived to lead the reader to aspecific thought or emotion. Good alternativeliterature isn’t solely rated on the appearanceof the piece but the readability and skill bythe author to form an understandable cre-ation. A lot of aspiring free form writersenjoy the freedom without the realizationthat there is still a foundation that remains tobe built. The mantel the very core of writingis the meaning.’ To be able to help those writ-ers who seem to be having a hard time, don’ttell them that their doing fine ask them abouttheir art’s meaning of existence.

Harnessing the power of words is not aneasy thing to do, even some of the most fa-mous poets in history failed to properly learnto mold a bit piece for their words. In closingI would like to thank you for reading this ar-ticle and remember that it’s okay to be takenover by your words, never hold them backfrom the word, and don’t continue to babythose who need help show them that there isnot correct way to write but there is a literaryfoundation that needs to be build.


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lind Entertainment

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Sion Darkness

"Once upon a time"a short comic about relations

between one witch and God of

destruction


"Once upon a time"






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