Triptych: Things That Come In Threes

Contributors Na’imah Bryant (cover artist) Sandra Nexeus Stanic Jhane Lola Braut Mark Ruel Media Jada Young Johanan Viljoen Zhane Johnson Emma McNamara Cody Fletcher Tyler Jones Mayra G. Favela Cheryl Cantafio

Letter from the E.I.C.

Dear Readers, Welcome to the inaugural issue, “Triptych: Things that Come in Threes,” from Three Panels Press! It is with great excitement that we present to you a collection that celebrates the power and beauty of threes in art, poetry, prose, and photography.

The number three has many meanings. Harmony is one thing it symbolizes! Harmony has to do with balance, agreement, and even music. You will find a lot of harmony throughout this issue. Balance in the composition of the work, the way the words flow, in the visuals seen and created.

You will find a diverse array of works that explore the theme of triptych in unique and profound ways. From the rhythmic cadence of verses in poetry to the interconnected narratives in prose, each piece invites you to contemplate the significance of threes in our lives and in our creative expressions.

Our contributors have poured their hearts and minds into crafting works that resonate with the essence of triptych—whether through symbolism, structure, or thematic exploration. We hope that as you immerse yourself in these pages, you discover new perspectives and find inspiration within the beauty that surrounds us.

Thank you to all our contributors for sharing their talents and visions with us. And to our readers, thank you for joining us on this journey. Happy reading!

Warm regards, Jhazzy Jhane Editor-in-Chief

CONTENTS PAGE 1 Panel 1: Poetry and Prose

PAGE 33 Panel 2: Photography & Art

PAGE 42 Panel 3: Ekphrastic Poetry

PAGE 1

Panel 1: Poetry & Prose

Nap of a Star Can you see me Hiding in the dark?

Light far from the Eyes who try to find The hidden me.

Brighter beings catch the Attention of those Looking through the long Lens searching for More than meets their Eyes. Deliverance among Skies of light they cry When the light falls and Dies at their feet. But they Wished from the Beginning for its end.

So I hide.

Afraid to see what Embracing my light Will find among the sky.

Knowledgeable me stays Asleep even when I’m Forever awake to the

Tyler Jones | @taj.the.poet

Darkness around me.

But in the black painted Life, there’s blues to be Pronounced and reds Painted amongst our Backdrops.

So instead of hitting Snooze, the nap is Over and the light I hid inside has time To be just as beautiful In the vast overhead sea.

Moons and suns can’t Hold me back from Having you see the Brightness I hid from me.

Flipping the switch was Always the solution to Light the star you were Always meant to see.

Tyler Jones | @taj.the.poet

PAGE 3

Catching Feelings Lucy and Ruby sailed the blue sea aboard a cozy fishing boat suitable for two on a sunny, placid June afternoon.

The trip was Lucy’s idea. The day, Ruby’s.

Ruby had never been fishing, and Lucy had never passed up an opportunity to spend time with Ruby. The pair shared a birthday, along with a flourishing fondness for each other’s company. That day at sea, Lucy turned 19. Ruby, 21. Their friendship, a mere yet dear month.

The young women baited their hooks and cast their lines into the water.

Lucy pondered, Ruby must think I’m a loser. Spending her 21st birthday fishing with me... must be out of pity...

Lucy paused her pondering, her eyes wandering to Ruby’s lips.

She swore she discerned a red tint. Lucy knew that Ruby wore tinted cherry chapstick for good luck on dates, or when around any romantic interest. Otherwise, she preferred mint.

Emma McNamara| @author_emma

Out of the blue, Lucy felt a tug on her line.

Oh, what a boisterous bite!

And from the abyss, a hefty, garish fish!

Lucy recognized the beast instantly. The formidable Feelings Fish.

“What is that?” asked Ruby, subtly sucking on the breath mint she had popped into her mouth while Lucy was preoccupied.

“It’s—” Catching a whiff of mint, Lucy frowned.

“It’s nothing. Let’s let it go.”

Alas, into the vast blue sea, Lucy freed her Feelings Fish.

Frowning, Ruby felt a tug on her line.

Oh... what a boisterous bite...

And duly disregarded, a hefty, garish fish.

Emma McNamara| @author_emma

PAGE 5

red blue and yellow they come in three red blue and yellow and create a whole colour pallet the entire spectrum that we can perceive in just those three colors can you even fathom that three colors responsible for millions of colors that paint our world in deep pain extreme beauty lonely despair and everything in between how does life come in the most simple package but it’s equally the most complex one the one you will never be able to fully grasp you mix blue and yellow and end up with shades of swaying willows minty eucalyptus and leaping frogs on a hot summer night croaking the night away

Lola Braut | @lola_bea_xoxo

blue and red give rise to a royal purple or to a shade of delicious cold grapes violet amethyst protection that you wear around your neck like some princess warrior from back in the day red and yellow and you’re left with a california orange sunset or a peeled orange skin left quietly on the table leaving vibrant citrus aroma lingering in the room and hanging to the back of your nostrils you don’t need much you need your cards that you were dealt when you were born and it’s on you to play them well one two three… …one for health one for love

Lola Braut | @lola_bea_xoxo

PAGE 7

one for imagination you manipulate one and the other card suffers everything is connected and demands equilibrium subtly balance those three things and you’ve mastered a good life powerful serene exquisite… …red blue yellow… those are the elements that make or break our lives they come in three and millions in between good luck you’re going to need it

Lola Braut | @lola_bea_xoxo

Flower of the Sun Being surrounded by sunshine lets my light glow on a natural high—brighter than any star in the sky.

I’m orange and gold with life as petals fall to show what winter was like as summer ends and spring waits in the wings again.

Such a thing of beauty helped me love once more at my core as I sought square zero in hopes of remembering what I was looking for.

Too bad I forgot, but as I went on and on, I blossomed under the moon but I still wonder whether I could’ve lived without the fire in my life—I guess I’ll never know.

But that’s good and plenty for my garden of marigold life.

Tyler Jones | @taj.the.poet

PAGE 9

Closed Eyes A poem of my admiration for a work of art close to my soul: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt.

I close my eyes, caressed by the winds, Sung to by the birds, And over the water, whether in spring, summer, autumn or winter—I am kissed by the sky and its eternal sun I close my eyes and feel the tender hands of gravity both on my waist and on my face, singing a melody made for me And of my scars and imperfections, with all my rough edges, stories, longings and silences—rises a symphony

I close my eyes and I know that even if I decide not to say a single word, I am understood I close my eyes and turn my head toward the stars and the cosmos that illuminate my life And suddenly even in my beautiful dances with solitude, I feel the sigh of heaven that tells me that when I least expect it, By closing my eyes, I will not need to see—but to feel, that which pulsates in a single touch, in a single glance, in a single hug...

Mayra G. Favela | @fireseapoetry

In a single hug—my hands, my body and my soul are and will be loved By listening to the poetry that is from my skin, we will be one for the other, together a melody on Earth, a source of light that the universe protects and God strengthens I close my eyes and now I understand what is true, It is to continue dancing, to continue living in the garden that gives me life, created with my voice and my hands The witness is the heart It is to continue singing with the birds, loving what I am on Earth, the wind and the water until I feel what I will know when I close my eyes, a power that will make every atom of me flourish even more, together—unbreakable, for that is how the Earth wants it, that is how the naked soul wants it, guided by the power that holds everything together, the power that holds everything together: love.

Mayra G. Favela | @fireseapoetry

PAGE 11

Ojos Cerrados Cierro mis ojos acariciada por los vientos, cantada por los pájaros, sobre el agua, sea en primervera, verano, otono o invierno—besada por el cielo y su sol eterno Cierro los ojos y siento las tiernas manos de la gravedad tanto en mi cintura como sobre mi rostro, cantando una melodía hecha para mí y de mis cicatrices e imperfecciones, con todas mis asperezas, historias, anhelos y silencios—una sinfonía

Cierro los ojos y sé que aunque decida no decir una sola palabra soy entendida, Cierro los ojos y vuelvo la cabeza hacia las estrellas y el cosmos que iluminan mi vida, Y de repente hasta en mis hermosas danzas con la soledad, siento el suspiro del cielo que me dice que a lo largo de mis viajes,

Mayra G. Favela | @fireseapoetry

Cuando yo menos lo espere, y cuando vuelva a cerrar los ojos, no necesitaré ver—sino sentir, que palpita en un solo roce, en una sola mirada, en un solo abrazo...

En un solo abrazo—mis manos, mi cuerpo y mi alma son y serán amados Al escuchar la poesía que es de mi piel, seremos el uno para el otro, juntos una melodía en la tierra, una fuente de luz que el universo protege y Dios fortalece Cierro los ojos y ahora entiendo lo qué es lo verdadero, Es seguir bailando, seguir viviendo en el jardín que me da vida, creado con mi voz y manos El testigo es el corazón, Es seguir cantando con los pájaros, añorando, amando lo que soy en la tierra, el viento y el agua hasta sentir lo que sabré cuando cierre los ojos, un poder que hará florecer aun mas cada átomo de mí, juntos—irrompibles Pues así lo quiere la tierra, Así lo quiere el alma desnuda, guiado por el poder que mantiene todo unido, el poder que lo mantiene todo unido: el amor.

Mayra G. Favela | @fireseapoetry

PAGE 13

It Will Be What Has Already Happened Our eyes see things, things we'll never truly process.

The cresting of the day at dawn, The shadows cast as the sun lingers in the day, The darkness that covers the world at night.

We just move through the day expecting it, ignoring it, rejecting it.

The same happens with our memories as we created, remembered, and left much OF THEM forgotten.

Every moment is an experience lived, enjoyed, and anticipated.

How do we heal from wounds yet to scar?

How do we enjoy pleasure we no longer feel?

How do we know we are in a space so visceral it will always exist within us?

We don't.

Cody Fletcher | @solconan

We just continue to watch the sky change as we look back and wonder where the stars went.

We process our trauma as lived pain.

Even when it hurts with each breath.

Is it our eyes, mind, or heart that betrays us?

Think of this world and what it offers.

May the sun guide you as it rises, Warm you when it wanes, And comfort you with the visions of a nebula when the return awaits.

You will read this, you are reading this, you have read this.

It is all a testament to what left and realizations of what is left to gain.

Find your own expression for this world and live in it.

You will be what you have already experienced but that doesn't mean your existence, your history, or your traumas must repeat themselves.

Cody Fletcher | @solconan

PAGE 15

Las Vegas in Three Parts Tempting Fate It seldom rains in Las Vegas.

The city could set itself on fire. I’ve watched it try. Sand dancing with the sun, begging it to do its worst. When the temperature gets this high, I see the city tempt its fate and ask to burn. Sometimes, I wish to burn with it.

Jhane | @quotedbyjhane

Night Drive in Las Vegas I shouldn’t have to use GPS in a place where I was born Or feel strange when people mention spots that aren’t familiar I might as well be a tourist in this town of casinos With slot machines in every Seven Eleven I roll down the windows and suffocate on the dry heat Watch cones spring up on the side of the road—Flowers that don’t need water Try not to let the smell of Jack-in-the-Box Lure me back to the childhood I barely had I try not to get nauseous at the thought of the empty eyes of adolescent acquaintances as they pretend to remember me from school There are bright lights in this big city But sometimes those are blinding Are deserts meant to feel this deserted

Jhane | @quotedbyjhane

PAGE 17

No Place Like “Home” Vegas is the excitement of hearing the bell on the corn man’s cart, our version of the ice cream truck, elotes—mayo all over my mouth, chili powder burning my lips Vegas is errands in the early morning or at night, not daring to go up against the dry heat when the temperatures hit the three digits Vegas is both what you see on t.v. and not Vegas is the strange questions I get asked about what it’s like to live there Vegas is the place I was born, though I never lived there long, so I’m too afraid to call it home

Jhane | @quotedbyjhane

Standing at the Last Judgment ekphrastic - Hans Memling’s painting

Angels, demons, and naked mortals with their hollow stares The gilded colors and message vibrant and violent I wonder if Memling had nightmares These ghastly panels rendered me silent The gilded colors and message vibrant and violent Saved to the left, Sinners to the right These ghastly panels rendered me silent Archangel Michael with fates balanced and ready to smite Saved to the left, Sinners to the right Demons with pitchforks in the center of it all Archangel Michael with fates balanced and ready to smite Only a work so grandiose could make us feel so small Demons with pitchforks in the center of it all I wonder if Memling had nightmares Only a work so grandiose could make us feel so small Angels, demons, and naked mortals with their hollow stares

Cheryl Cantafio | @cherylc.writer

PAGE 19

Revolutionary Road  y husband M does not like to sit on pillows Or on anything soft At all He says he is not used to it My husband says he is not used to unbiased looks “Good evening, neighbor” without keys between crossed fingers My husband is not used to friends except for those who just love to say they are his friends Because it is thought to be woke Being a friend to someone whose skin is Black whose homeland only prints postcards saying “greetings from hell” In official capacity

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

He is not used to white mothers who do not call the police To report an intruder at the children's park because the little girl he is feeding Is too white My husband is not used to a sleeping wife When he arrives home from the night shift His woman awaits for the sound of the door unlocking Confirmation of his safe arrival He lives Only then does she dare to dream My husband is not used to relaxed shoulders Forgotten identification documents in a rush Hands in his pockets Hooded jacket Broken headlight One drink too many However My husband is used to the brutality of the world Callous of the heart

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

PAGE 21

He is used to overwhelming bright lights of this city Uniforms, taxes, laws, and rules Wifi and 5G and forms He got used to old white men whose Ignorance Intolerance reeks from afar And vulgar women Interrogating his wife with inappropriate questions at beauty parlors As if his skin color buys them a ticket for that horrible unacceptable daily lynching Whose executor, among others wears silk gloves Works at sky high top floor offices Advertises expensive highlights Is often a mother of sons and daughters Whose worth is measured by the size of bra cups Nose jobs And horsepower in their engines

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

Nevertheless, At that rigid dance Of habit with horror We are all time offenders to favorite trespasses All our home literature is revolutionary Our mattress is as hard as a prison bed Where we laugh the softest We renew our vows annually On our wedding anniversary We never told anyone I proposed first Under the mango tree From which he would bring me The biggest and sweetest specimens Nucleus of love Nobody knows That tenderness and complicity Are woven into our sheets And hands Of which bones are already formed entrenched to the tendons of each other And to love someone else Would be uncalled for Not to say utterly wrong If there could ever even be A comparison to such love

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

PAGE 23

To Rio, With Love He kissed me three times A green-eyed Brazilian with a tattooed map of Rio de Janeiro across his entire back And the kiss would power down Main functions of my knees brain and self-control He would tell me How exotic I am That my smile makes him warm I did not tell him I was laughing at my exoticism In derision Although I liked the way my name rolled over his tongue How solemn he looked in uniform Even more without it And that hideous tattoo Although I entertained The idea of Corcovado and Christ the Savior under my fingers

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

He reminded me of a tiger I wanted to own it Sometimes I would imagine A bar and straw parasols At Jericoacoara Dark blue longing of Bossa Nova and his sturdy knuckles Against my waist Arrested silver around our fingers Caipirinha and familiarity of his sweat On the lips I had imagined the great Amazon river and hallucinogenic frogs Samba and sizzling nights tenderness so unlike to soldiers Mouthful of jaboticaba Years of tamed winters Silk after the small of my neck While he promises Children, a house A monkey For a pet

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

PAGE 25

Perhaps I would’ve loved him If we had more time If a real life resembled promises of Green-eyed Brazilian soldiers With a tattooed map of Rio De Janeiro Over their entire back The fourth time he tried to kiss me He promised less Expected more And I grew tired of imagining hallucinogenic frogs Eternal summer Samba and sizzling nights Jaboticaba and caipirinhas Silk against my skin And his Fall is my season, anyway I wear silk layered in winter I don't believe in promises And all it takes is a shiver To make everything not enough To me Brazil, my love.

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

Crying Out a Universe I can’t cry you a river While you’re pouring a Milky Way. Celestial waterfalls that will make a star fall.

I wish upon its arrival Before I crash land in your hands.

I can see every galaxy expanding, Vibrating in the sands of suns.

Raging against what love comes from When the heart finally Sees what it wants from the telescope of hope.

But when the realization Comes burning down, I won’t forget the sea of heavenly dreams.

The cool breeze of angels Have me in stasis as I freeze.

Tyler Jones | @taj.the.poet

PAGE 27

Three in One Three is One Since the dawn of time, ranging back to the edge of all mortal ken, humanity has recognized the fact that we have a special relationship with the number three. Around the fourth century BCE, the Greek philosopher Aristotle wrote the book, Rhetoric, in which he proposed the term “Omne trium perfectum.”

This phrase has since become known as the rule of threes. In essence, it states that people are more likely to take note of things stated or occurring in sets of three. You’ll see this in a range of modern advertising campaigns, ancient cultural beliefs, and even artwork or literature.

Threes in Religion and Culture Let’s consider a few examples. In Neopaganism, we see the representation of the triple goddess in her three forms as maiden, mother, and crone. At the same time, these forms are inextricably linked to the three phases of the moon: waxing, full, and waning.

Johanan Viljoen | @johananvpoetry

In Norse tradition, we see the example of the three Norns, or spinners, who sit at the foot of the tree of life and spin the tapestries that are the lives of humans. When they cut the thread, your time on Earth is done.

In Greek beliefs, we see the Moirai, three sisters named Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos who represent destiny and preordination.

The Romans had a similar belief, but their version was called the Parcae.

Even in Christian belief systems, we see the presence of the triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Each part is powerful in its own right, but essentially incomplete without the presence of the other two.

Threes in Art and Design But what does all this mean? Why is humankind fascinated with the concept of threes? Why do we see this pattern in everything around us? Is it something appealing about the symmetry, or lack thereof, that thirds produce?

Johanan Viljoen | @johananvpoetry

PAGE 29

I’d like to mention one final example, then delve deeper into my thoughts about the rule of threes. If you’re an art lover (which you probably are if you’re reading this magazine), then you’ll be familiar with the golden ratio, the rule of thirds, or the Fibonacci sequence.

Many architectural structures take their form thanks to the Fibonacci Sequence.

The golden ratio (1.618333...) describes the perfect ratio that is appealing to the mind’s eye.

The rule of thirds is an almost equivalent form of composition and spacing, but is slightly less exact than the golden ratio and therefore easier to implement. The Fibonacci sequence is when the golden ratio is continuously repeated within a pattern—a famous example being the shell of a nautilus.

Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa fits perfectly within the golden ratio, through either the use of spirals or rectangles.

Johanan Viljoen | @johananvpoetry

Why are Threes so Attractive?

But now back to the why. Why are we, as humans, so attracted to the number three, and patterns thereof?

It is my firm belief that, in our subconscious minds, humans recognize the fact that there is no completion in either the singular or the plural form. Until the last few centuries, few cultures required people to set such a rigid standard for who and what they were that they felt constricted to be only those things.

If you look at any of the examples mentioned above, you will find that there is completeness only in the union of the three elements.

Whether it’s mind, spirit, and body, subconscious, conscious, and superconscious thought, or the perfect blend of three colors, it is only in the amalgamation of all these parts that completion is found.

In Neopaganism, we see three phases of the goddess, three moon phases that are also linked to the tides of the ocean, with differing phases and seasons in our lives. In Christianity, we see that, “A three-strand cord is not easily broken.” We also see that the Godhead consists of a Father, a Savior, and a Comforter.

Johanan Viljoen | @johananvpoetry

PAGE 31

No matter which belief system, culture, or artform you look at, the rule of threes is so deeply ingrained that it is inextricable from many of the other beliefs. When we open our ears to hear, we can hear the echoes of our forebears, and their forebears, even of cultures long lost to us, ringing out the importance of threes.

What if the one warning they’ve been ringing out is the only one we’re not hearing. Today, we live in a society that tries to define us rigidly as one thing. All the time we hear, “I am a poet,” or “I am a businesswoman,” or “I’m not much, just a mom.”

When did we lose the sense of fully being what we are? Today, I give you permission. Whether it takes three things to fulfill you, or three sets of three, go be who you are. Whether that’s a writer, a businesswoman and a wife, or an artist, an entrepreneur, and a father, you were not born to be one single thing.

The threes are everywhere, and they are in you, too. Don’t be afraid to let them out.

Johanan Viljoen | @johananvpoetry

PAGE 33

Panel 2: Photography & Art

“The Tyler Set”

Na’imah Bryant | @naimahfaatin

“Three’s Company”

Na’imah Bryant | @naimahfaatin

PAGE 35

“Seal’s Beloved Roses”

Jada Young | @Jadaariyelle

“Bertha Antoinetta Cosway Mason Rochester, on her wedding day”

“Bertha Antoinetta Cosway Mason Rochester, on her wedding day”, 2024; acrylic, fabric, mesh, modelling paste, (140 cm x 124 cm) Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

PAGE 37

“The Crowded Room”

'The Crowded Room, 2023. 58" x 50* (148 cm x 127 cm) oil pigments, acrylic on duck canvas.

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

“Islander”

"Islander", 2023. Silk, cotton, jute, rope, acrylic on duck canvas. 58" L x 61.5* H (147 cm x 156.2 cm)

Sandra Nexeus Stanic | @littleapartment_art

PAGE 39

“3 Perspectives”

Mark Ruel Media | @markruelmedia

“Street Hearts”

Lola Braut | @lola_bea_xoxo

PAGE 41

Panel 3: Ekphrastic Poetry on Hieronymous Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights

About Bosch’s Painting Hieronymus Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights" is a triptych painting created around the year 1500. It's a highly intricate and enigmatic work that has fascinated viewers and art historians for centuries. Here are some key aspects of the painting: 1. Triptych Format: The painting consists of three panels.

2. Central Panel - Earthly Delights: The central panel portrays a lush and colorful garden filled with a multitude of human figures, animals, and imaginative creatures engaged in various activities.

These scenes depict a surreal and hedonistic vision of pleasure and excess.

3. Left Panel - Paradise: The left panel depicts the biblical Garden of Eden, showing Adam and Eve and other creatures in a harmonious and idyllic setting before the Fall. It contrasts sharply with the chaotic and frenzied central panel.

4. Right Panel - Hell: The right panel depicts a nightmarish vision of Hell, filled with torturous scenes and monstrous figures. It serves as a stark warning against the sinful excesses depicted in the central panel, suggesting the consequences of moral corruption and indulgence.

PAGE 43

In the Garden Ekphrastic - Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delight

1) Naivety is bliss, whether inherent or chosen as a mechanism to cope. Life is sweet when being naked isn’t scandalous. It’s the way of life. When we relish in the beauty of the world, nature, each other, and ourselves, the short days feel long and filled with laughter, pleasure, and joy.

2) We are no longer naïve. Ignorance became less blissful. Every day became mundane and we needed more to sustain our lust for life. We sought out more. Grew hungry. Began to feed the flesh, and then the flesh fed on us until even our bones were drenched in sin. Our long days grew shorter. Damned.

3) And then we are left with darkness. The sky above blanketed in it. The world we got to rule over now rules us. Everything is unnatural. We long for the days we didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t long for anything more than everyday simplicity. We continue to reap what we sowed from our sin. And we bathe in eternal darkness.

Jhane | @quotedbyjhane

An Earthly Delight ekphrastic - Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delight

The garden no longer pure Once protected The moon and pristine skies Now a perilous place Scattered in guilty pleasures Where temptation congregates Only to remain hostage In a place of restlessness A place stripped naked Discarded from the vegetations of peace Eve could’ve prevented by obeying Now they feast in greed Leaving the world once known to them Repainted red Accompanied by skies masked in black

Zhane Johnson | @thefabledfro

PAGE 45

JHAZZY JHANE, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LOLA BRAUT, CO-EDITOR JOHANAN VILJOEN, CO-EDITOR, CO-DESIGNER MORGANA FAYE, DESIGNER

GOOD THINGS COME IN THREES