At first, the little cabin had no windows. Only open staring holes, waiting for glass to give them a name. I had brought panes with me in hopes of finding a house that they would make a home, and once they were placed I could not help covertly admiring how they first let the sun pass through, and then as the day went on, caught the light and threw it back into the valley. I told myself the flashes looked like leaping fish, or a treasure long lost to the depths pulled gasping from the waves. I could even tell myself that I believed it.
Hidden on land that rolled like the sea, the cabin was my treasure. I had come looking for solitude, for silence. And I thought I had found it. Until the afternoon Jonas walked out of the woods.
This is how love stories begin.
Mine is not a love story.
But there is love in it, later.… Read More...
The Fable of Arachne, by Diego Velázquez
With sagest craft Arachne worked
Her web, and at a corner lurked,
Awaiting what should plump her soon,
To case it in the death-cocoon.
Sagaciously her home she chose
For visits that would never close;
Inside my chalet-porch her feast
Plucked all the winds but chill North-east.
The finished structure, bar on bar,
Had snatched from light to form a star,… Read More...
Thomas Nast’s famous depiction of the “Tweed Ring,” courtesy of the Wikimedia Foundation
Art is a form of self-expression and is utilized by someone to express one’s individuality, to distinguish them from a larger collective entity. There is no wrong way to express art because it is left up to interpretation, anything can be art to someone. Art is used to invoke an emotional response in others in an attempt to better understand the world around them, or the people around them. A piece of art can do this so well that the intent of an artist behind a particular piece of work is usually disregarded by the public. The intent of the author does not matter when there are so many different perspectives on a piece of art that can offer so much reflection into the complexities of the human spirit. That is one of the main goals of creating art, to search for a deeper reason to live out our brief existence on in this universe, to contribute to the beauty of our world so that we can be remembered for something after we depart. Art is a wonderful chaotic; fantastic and depressing; joyous and lamenting.
But can art be political, should it be political? Surely something that can inspire such emotion in a person can also inspire activism, or does politicking forsake art in exchange for passionate rhetoric with empty nuance? Do political endeavors attract emotional artists or just bland, empty, and sometimes heartless talking heads? The United States presidential election of 2000 may have many people saying nothing good can come from politics and that everyone is corrupt. But, if pieces of art can inspire such an emotional reaction out of someone, then why can’t that energy transfer to political action?… Read More...
When the old women crowded around, Ember regressed into a little girl. It shouldn’t work that way. She was a full-grown adult, a mother, a seasoned soldier, and now a successful businesswoman keeping her two-person family housed and fed. She had traveled across the sea to places no one else in her village had even heard of, selling her sword in service of a good man, commanded missions, killed enemies with her bare hands, and she had even learned to read and write. None of these women could compare.
Yet in this tiny mountain village, faced with disapproval and condescension, Ember’s self-worth disintegrated.
“My dear, you’re going to be better off this way.” Great Aunt clucked her tongue and pressed in closer, speaking on rotten breath. “If they choose her, then look at the bright side.”
“You can’t mean–”
“Once she’s gone, you can marry a respectable man and start a family.”
“I have a family.”
“My dear, what you have is a burden.”
… Read More...