archive - issue 14

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  • /

    By Ruth Barker
    On the QWERTY layout of my computer keyboard, the symbol / appears beside the questioning symbol ?. They are represented together on the same key, and
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  • Apartment / Containers

    By Vincent Bezuidenhout
    These diptychs are the start of a series of images I have been working on regarding the visual landscape we choose to surround ourselves
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  • I returned home after my first year in college to discover my younger sister had turned gorgeous. This was a disappointment, but not an
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  • Butterfly

    By Adriana de Barros
    The pupa, a silk wrap of emotionsIsolated, within breathing, wanting to bethe intense pronoun of selfIt is silly to be one's own pronounShe giggles
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  • Collage

    By Claudio Parentela
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  • Drag and Snap

    By Leigh-Anne Niehaus
    This series is inspired by the childhood game of "snapdragon", which allows for simplistic and delightful decision-making through random selections of colour and number.
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  • Evidence of Life

    By Tamlyn Martin
    Below is an extract from a series of 11 poems created in parallel with visual artworks. 5. Memories laced with visceral realityFlooding herThe gentle
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  • Forward! Slash!

    By Travis Lyle
    You think you're a forward-thinking kinda person, do you? Lemme be the one to break it to you, sunshine – you're as lame as the
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  • Human/Nature

    By Lydia Anne McCarthy
    This series explores moments between nature and human beings that are at once idealistic and unsettling. Each picture is an independent narrative, but placed
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  • Immigrants

    By Stanley Onjezani Kenani
    you want to livenothing else.you leaveto liveyou swimor like fresh sardinesyou are packedin boatsyou leaveto live.  you leavegold in the belly of Africaoil in
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  • In Between

    By Tania van Schalkwyk
    Raised in an Arabian land of heat, fire and temper,sometimes the calm of England clamps downlike damp in a bathroom with no windowand a
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  • Letter to the Editor

    By Elan Gamaker
    Dear Sir/Madam I should like strenuously to object to the subject matter ("/") of your current issue. It must first be mentioned, however, that it
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  • Or: a line drawing

    By Gabeba Baderoon
    Pencil and nothing. Her face turned almost entirely away. Forehead, cheekbone,jaw,the bun low in her neck,shoulderand down,the long linejust enoughthen left alone.
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  • p u n c t u a t i o n

    By Ula Einstein
    Einstein works with a diverse range of media, including drawings and installation with fire, thread, and blades. The series of drawings and installations with
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  • PATCH

    By Sean Hampton-Cole
    Keys. John speaking. 'Lo?Good morning. May I speak to Bob Mitchell please?Bob in Bonds?I'm not really sure. I'm trying to...You want extension 125. This
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  • Pretty Babies

    By Peregrine Honig
    With the premise that "/ " presents what is IN and what is OUT, the "Pretty Babies" series explores the fashion industry's well-published and syndicated DOs
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  • River Bank

    By Mario Sughi
    The symbol / is intended initially as a symbol of division. A real or unreal line divides the girl from the water, the girl from
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  • Scissor

    By Charlotte Gait
    There was a time when you and I were connected by iron, acid, vitamin and blood. Where every mouthful I took was with the
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  • Seasaw

    By Sol Kjøk
    Here, the motif is conceived of as a seesaw (the typo in the title is intended, as this drawing is part of a series
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  • Series Seven Up

    By Noel Fignier
    Text by João Branco Kyron, HipnóticaThe collision is imminent and in the fraction of time left, the eyes shut and the vision is superbly
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  • A battle over samoosas between the snobbish Cinderella and a homeless electrician is mediated by Cinderella's boyfriend JJ. The samoosa battle is conflated with
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  • Wayne Porter, freelance journalist, donned his anthropologist's birthday suit and hit the bowling alley. Bar the bowlers hat tipped gently off centre, the man
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  • The Incised Wound

    By Joanne Hichens
    "Please, for me, Dave," I placed my hand on his, and really, no begging, just asked him nicely, "Lay off the booze tonight." Whether
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  • He had been driving for hours through that unstable, somnambulist night when he fell asleep at the wheel. He awoke with a start and
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  • The space between.

    By Mehita Iqani
    It's a handy little line, the one that we use to make our options known. Either/Or. Paper and ink or binary code? Its clichéd,
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  • Un Hombre Fuerte

    By Tamo Vonarim
    Sun.star.kid: Written these words are, at times of a subconscious flow – whether they are mine, I don't know. All I know is that I
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  • Unbroken Awareness

    By TENDAI MWANAKA
    My life is now a floating shellI am a vessel on that river.The storm, the ship, the sea,Whose shores we lost in crossing.  I
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  • Untitled

    By Wilhelm Saayman
    This series of images, made using pen and ink, photographs and Photoshop, explore alternate/dream realities.
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  • Untitled

    By Aryan Kaganof
    /At R550 rand I thought I'd rather die/ My mother: can I trust this woman?/ I thought the Romans were coming, dinkum/ …and always
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POETRY

Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

Shooting Star

By
  Shooting Star is a sound art work that depicts in multi-track stereo the age-old yet suddenly, technologically-accelerated process of the convergence of Eastern and Western cultures in our time. The piece reveals the uneasy though ultimately harmonious blending of differing traditions in the context of the rapidly changing 21st century world. The piece is comprised of two primary elements in multiple, interwoven layers: 1) performance by Scott F. Hall on the dan bau, a rare acoustic-electric single-stringed musical instrument native to Vietnam and; 2) recitation by Classics scholar Eleni Manolaraki the poem BYRON by Kostas Kariotakis in the original…
Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

The Turtle Arse Fiddler

By
in tunewith my surroundingsI read this articlethat deals with inner devilswhile below on the lower deckwater runs into manmade pondsmade by a humanme in this case but so whatand going back to readingI become dimly awareof a pain in my left elbowseriously crushedfalling backwardabout nine months ago andit acts out for the last few daysas the Mexican monsoonhovers overhead and feelsreal balmy and amply humidto have my pant legsweld to my thighsgiving me a restricted feelso I think of changinginto something airierbut writing this prevents mefrom leavingsince I don't want to lose the thought continuity processinspired by my readingespecially where…
Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

*

By
Well they're mainly rudeInit?Readers don't always geta good chuff.So we put them ininstead of blue trumpets  scraping nails   down glazed nerved   spinesin cars rushing through robots  to reach sweat behind curtains.They cover the thighsof miniskirted commutersrampantly underwrapped,   just asking.Arrange themselves on ceilings,well-worn lyricsto the bliss below.Splutter across fugitive filth and creep under spam.Unambiguous,they google that naughty handwhich tried to spill our scanty moralsWhen we want to know  (with **** in mind)to whom it is attached.
Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

Ad Absurdum

By
Ad Absurdum is an audio artwork that addresses the many footnotes and caveats that plague advertising.  Ad Absurdum = herd of marketing hits, clichés and platitudes, featuring a chorus of cats and two pounds of Velveeta.  This short sound artwork was inspired by the Third Coast Festival audio challenge.
Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

Two poems

By
I was about to submit this work without much regard for the 'theme' but once I thought about it, I realised the 'theme' is too open-ended not to enter on the basis of not 'getting it'. After all, answering open-ended questions is probably the easiest thing to do.So this is my open-ended answer. These are my terms and conditions. This is my fine print.**Grumpy She cries     pitiful, quiet, insecureI listen    dutiful, alone, smugShe's my mother's face    desperate, destitute and dependentI'm my father's anger    reticent, vicious and skeptical  *All's forgotten Soapsuds squeeze through my closed fistHer lips are rounded, this…
Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

Judicial Torture for M*

By
i wonder howdid she breathein that seaof daily tears i wonder how deepdid they grub her up,with the second gang rapeof the who,the where,the when and how interrogation.razor-blade questionswaking woundsof traumatizing memories,cutting nakedclothes of her soul.she invited it -so suggested their questions,leaving her in regret:why did she report it;in the first place? today it's me,pride between my thighsis taken,how i wishthat coward could pay,but no i can't,can't afford it,limping shoeless on that barbed pathof second rape,where what he did matters lessthan what i was wearing,no, i just can't.* - a friend who told me why she never disclosed that she…
Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

I'ist

By
This, is I.With I halo gone,With no application for redemption signed.I heal cracks feeding plasma to a barren earth.The I you seek, lies in the deception of I gall.Eat I whole and you will spit I when your teeth,In your greedy mastication discover I.This is I soul's pocket,Camouflaged to fool Descartes.
Wednesday, 01 October 2008 02:00

Finch

By
The wooden floor was shinyand squeaked when you walkedacross it in your new white takkies. * You were cranky as a loan shark,looking for someoneyou weren't sureyou wanted to find. * Birds flew in the high parts.There were lemon embargoes.Cowboys reeled in the long grassbehind the scenes. * You painted the word courageon a barbed wire fence, afraidthat the most hideous thingswould happen to you. * You lost faith in drawing and Buddhism.You lost faith full stop. * You wrote, 'Jessica, when she was in a good mood.'And she killed herself. * You wrote, 'Manic depressive illness."And you cried in the car. * There was a panicked…
Tuesday, 30 September 2008 02:00

Drawings and Sounds

By
       
Monday, 29 September 2008 02:00

Two Graphic Scores

By
Two found print pieces, featuring graphic scores. One audio performance.
Wednesday, 24 September 2008 02:00

Madame Aster Risk

By
To look upon her, to consider her, to be curious about her intent, her meaning, her function, her purpose and the precise measurement of ink that She Is. Doused upon each page that she adorns, in replica repetition in uniform form She appears *  * Print upon print Upon reprintUpon re-editionUpon photocopyUpon borrowed copyUpon final copyUpon precious copyUpon only copy Like the rings of a tree to time, she wades and waddles upon the written word, the umpire of interpretive text. In her finest display as arbitrator, she draws the spotlight toward her form as she do-si-do's across the page,…
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Butterfly

By
The pupa, a silk wrap of emotionsIsolated, within breathing, wanting to bethe intense pronoun of selfIt is silly to be one's own pronounShe giggles immensely,so much that, she is out of self She is the personification of herfeminine, gentle, divinebeautiful with every laugh and flaw Still protected in cocoon, wanting more than these "walls"she speaks of walls like a caged specimen If I were a butterfly, I'd fly so heavenlyshe laughs again at the exaggerationHer will to be free, to live and be loved Wanting to be a verb of desireher poetic nature metamorphoseseloquently in English rhythm and rhymes She…
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Untitled

By
/At R550 rand I thought I'd rather die/ My mother: can I trust this woman?/ I thought the Romans were coming, dinkum/ …and always with the opinions… incessant opinions…/ Only the inauthentic is valued. Only that which has been drained of all meaning is deemed meaningful/ You can't stop piracy. Piracy must be encouraged/ Give us our daily self. And then we re-enact this/ There's no judgement under the ocean/ Moenie 'n gegewe perd in die bek kyk nie/ Tonight at the emperor's old socks everyone's doing the high five sweetie pie want some sex in a box high five/…
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Scissor

By
There was a time when you and I were connected by iron, acid, vitamin and blood. Where every mouthful I took was with the express purpose of feeding you into a fat little babeczka I could rip out and sit on my knee, sing songs to and immerse in our tongue. Perhaps with the exception of the occasional vodka, every swallow was specifically packaged for delivery down the snot green umbilical hose so you could grow into the bouncing babeling you are today.You can look at me all you want out of those large faminous eyes but it's not like…
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Or: a line drawing

By
Pencil and nothing. Her face turned almost entirely away. Forehead, cheekbone,jaw,the bun low in her neck,shoulderand down,the long linejust enoughthen left alone.
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Immigrants

By
you want to livenothing else.you leaveto liveyou swimor like fresh sardinesyou are packedin boatsyou leaveto live.  you leavegold in the belly of Africaoil in the tummy of Africadiamond in the stomach of Africayou leave to livelike Lilongwe's beggarsin the middle of plenty  you leaveyour mother's tongue behindyour history behindyour dances and folkloreyour prideto live like filthchasing a dream whiletrampled uponin silence  the golden streetsthe skyscrapersthe fly-oversare at timesbitter than Lilongwe'sdust.
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Un Hombre Fuerte

By
Sun.star.kid: Written these words are, at times of a subconscious flow – whether they are mine, I don't know. All I know is that I put word on paper, so that it doesn't disappear. "Your experiences of your inner beauty – your higher self, will take care of everything". – message from a guru. 2005, Florence Italy. 17.Cap down, I salute you.Why am I here?I falter in my –Stupidity,I falter in my fear,I falter in my innocenceThat I can't even keepNear. 18.Until the gold of your love for me reflects in my eyes:I am no boxed horseNo pigeon heldFlower picked.…
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

In Between

By
Raised in an Arabian land of heat, fire and temper,sometimes the calm of England clamps downlike damp in a bathroom with no windowand a loud, inefficient extractor fan.  The setting is ordinary.I sit on a bench in a small town square,looking at a cobblestone floor,pretending to hear whispered romanticsecret stories in the rain — soft.  The stones sigh an outlandish tale of unrequited love.  I see a young couple squishing themselves togetherin front of a music-shop window. The guy rubshis hands along her bum, loving it.There is such comfort in roundness.  The shop's display of old music sheetsand DVD screens…
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Unbroken Awareness

By
My life is now a floating shellI am a vessel on that river.The storm, the ship, the sea,Whose shores we lost in crossing.  I can see the milky distances—In your eyes, but you cannot see me.A thin melon slice of first moon,Melting into songs and slivers of ice.  You could feel small creatures dying.Cowering humans in their burrows.Fighting for lives other than theirs.Aware they could not escape. Each of us came into beingKnowing who we are,What we are supposed to doBut why do you try to hold back—The sands, falling in the hourglass?  I am now unconscious.In a way—, but…
Sunday, 25 May 2008 02:00

Evidence of Life

By
Below is an extract from a series of 11 poems created in parallel with visual artworks. 5. Memories laced with visceral realityFlooding herThe gentle curve of her growing pregnant bellySubmerged in the morning lightFine sprawling linesDescribing the topography of her smileWitnessed by the reflection in the kitchen windowsThese iridescent sensationsMore real thanThe hard unmovable brutalityOf sturdy walls and polished floorboardsMore real thanA softly worn in couch of a bodyThis belongingnessWith all its evicted furyClimbing the ladder of her spineWanting to release itselfLike a taught rubber band6.A screamFilling every corner of her beloved homeLifting it ever so slightly from the groundWashing…
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