Now: Here: This
July 18
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Anthony Gonzalez
Washington Heights, New York City
A crepuscular creature climbs from its cube, carefully calling
"koo-o-o-h" (caught in mid phoneme)
scotch tape collage and photoshop
Karen Greene
Washington Heights, New York City
untitled
photograph
I ws down on Canal street and stopped by my favorite doorway to see what had been added to my oft photographed site-- it has evolved to another state almost completely. the only way I know it was the same place was the figure's right foot still showed. all else has been changed/covered/forced to evolve? Here it is. At the bottom right it says, "Jesus saves"-- and so do photographers.
Edie Nadelhaft
New York City
Twice Shy (One Shot)
oil on canvas, 24" x 24"
Claire Adas
Lambertville, New Jersey
Malcolm and Isaac on the Bridge at 11am
digital video
The most important thing is keeping my patience and recognizing a moment for a moment.
Isabela Oldak
Poznan, Poland
henna tattoo
photograph
Recently I was in Morocco. It was my second trip there, and for sure
not the last one.
I returned with henna tattoo. It was a traditional ornament, painted on
hand.
After that I started to think what the power can a tattoo have if you
treat it like a weapon, what outgrow from tradition of tattoo.
Today I've written on my hand Arabic word: al horey'a, it means freedom.
I treat this tattoo like a conversation stimulus .
If someone is curios , he will ask what this inscription means, and this
can be a basis to start talking. For most of people, freedom is valuable
notion, but freedom write in arabic, on hand of white person, enforces
for deepest analysis .
We can observe now that Europe fears Islamic religion and culture, and United States changed the meaning of the real message from Quran. So this tattoo is a manifest against all this disagreement.
And maybe this small action and discussion about all this problems can have a power to change or force someone to think about this notion with reference to Arabic and Islamic culture.
Stephen Beveridge
Washington Heights, New York City
she never looked back
Important thing: nothing. none of it's important
Peter Ferko
Washington Heights, New York City
Self-portrait in a Dark Polish bathroom
photograph
After two weeks of shooting photographs all day long, I am feeling relatively dexterous in my technique. I liked the absurd notion of shooting in the dark. The mirror-camera positioning was the most challenging part for some reason. Maybe with so many things to confuse me in a new country, this last one took it over the top.
Rosa Naparstek
Washington Heights, New York City
Three
Mixed Media: Digital Photo w/digital lines
On My Mind:
I envy people who get "signs", have intuitive hits and "just
know". I most often just struggle. The other day, anxious about missing
a Castle Village Garage Sale. I tried to calm myself by saying, whatever
I need will be there when I get there (stuff is the staff of my work).
Finally, getting out of the house much too late, but at my own chosen
speed, I ran into a couple, who had I left a moment earlier, I would never
have seen. They told me about a sale I did not know about and that it
was the best. Forsaking all others, I ran there immediately. Unfortunately,
it was an estate sale. The collection of "things" was eclectic,
artistic, sensitive, extensive.
I met John, Julia's son, who told me that his mother had been an artist,
writer and journalist_born in Siberia and died too young.
I bought many things, and among them Three very much like what I already
have on my shelves. Then, when John, a writer himself, sent me a poem
in rhyme about his mother...I finally realized that I too had gotten a
"hit". Much of my artwork has accompanying rhyme.
Below is the poem by John and below that "Three" pieces from/and
for Julia.
While going through your things I start to wonder
Just what these objects really mean to me
A silver spoon, old postcards, or a compact filled with powder
A message in a bottle that belongs at sea
I think about our tiny stature next to stars but,
They too are born, die, then explode
And still their dead light from a million miles away
Continues to illuminate our world
I marvel looking at these remnants of your life on earth
And in a Chanel compact I can see divinity
I see the cycle of our lives go back in time, from death to birth
And feel infinitesimal become infinity.
John Kolchak: LA, CA
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