KNACK Magazine #32

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is dedicated to showcasing the work of new artists of all mediums and to discussing trends and ideas within art communities

knack’s ultimate aim is to connect and inspire emerging artists

we strive to create a place for artists, writers, designers, thinkers, & innovators to collaborate and produce a unique, informative, and unprecedented web-based magazine each month

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andrea vaca co-founder, director, photo editor, marketing will smith co-founder, digital operations ariana lombardi co-founder, executive editor jonathon duarte co-founder, design director miljen aljinovic editor fernando gaverd designer, digital operations, marketing jake goodman designer, photographer

knackmagazine1 at gmail.com

cover jonathon duarte spreads a.c. vaca

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featured artists 4 liane pippin 8 frĂŠdĂŠric drouin 22 daniel siuba 32 amanda yamashita 42 a treat from knack & friends 54 submission guidelines 56

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liane pippin

frédéric drouin

Liane Pippin was raised in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma before attending Santa Fe University of Art & Design with a focus on Theatre Performance. After two years, she decided to leave school and move to New York City, where she currently resides. Her writing started while attending SFUAD after taking a class on the Beat Generation. It was a cathartic experience, which she has now begun to share with others. For a look at her most recent acting work, check out BlackNoiseMedia.com and the short film The Trade. In the future she would like to produce film, continue to write poetry, act, and direct theatre.

Frédéric Drouin aka Smith Smith is a 34 year old Nantais poly-artiste. He founded the Twin Daisies Records label in 2009, and BRAIN, a brand of screen-printed t-shirts, in 2010 before returning to his first love: the paper collage. Smith Smith is identified by the Maecene Arts collective that put up his first exhibitions. His most popular work to date remains his collection of portraits that he rebuilt but as a cluster of pixels that would have nothing to do together, but collectively offer a more or less similar but still notable portrait result.

via Twitter @LianePippin

http://smithartsmith.webs.com/ http://www.maecenearts.com/smithsmith smithsmith.art@gmail.com

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daniel siuba

amanda yamashita

Daniel Siuba is 26. He has lived in Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, California, and New Mexico. He recently relocated to New Orleans, Louisiana. He has a B.A. in Contemporary Music and an M.A. in Counseling Psychology. In addition to writing, he is also a composer, musician, and performer. Although he refuses to admit it publicly, he likes to sing more than anything else in the entire world. He goes by Dan, Danny, or Daniel, and sometimes, on rare occasions, you can call him Danny Ray.

Amanda Yamashita is a sculptor living and working in Los Angeles. She received her BFA from Biola University in La Mirada, CA. Her plush, tangible sculptures are physical representations of the immaterial body. During her undergraduate career, Amanda’s work was exhibited in Orange County, Los Angeles, and New York.

auricmess.com dannysiuba@gmail.com

yamashita.amanda@gmail.com

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knack an acquired or natural skill at performing a task

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liane pippin

creative writing

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It’s stream of consciousness based, so I don’t edit anything. After talking with people who have shared their struggles about life after school in Santa Fe, I felt the need to share and hopefully inspire others who are dealing with the same struggles.

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21 and tired

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I’m tired

I’m 21 and I’m tired.

Life is never anything real. My feelings are. & all I ask is that you trust them.

Feelings are attached, forgotten, reused & redistributed.

Will you let them in?

They must have your permission to intrude.

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falling freely

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Go run free and let yourself fall in the dark.

Remember your legs and your eyes and your touch, for they guide you beyond your mind.

The mind cannot see or feel, it only explains so we don’t go mad with wonder.

Where will my dreams take me?

Will my body follow?

Why must I know before I try?

This land is too big for me alone.

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not enough

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My darling I miss you but not enough.

I love your smile but not enough.

Maybe being yourself would be enough.

Yesterdays are in pieces.

They fly away because I don’t need them.

They run so I can’t chase them.

They aren’t mine.

Back to you.

Deal with them yourself now.

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play it again

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We were here again, alive again, at peace again, laughing again, singing again with the wind again.

Will you play it again?

It doesn’t sound the same as before.

Or maybe I don’t feel this way anymore.

Will you play it again?

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stir the story

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To be trapped is a cut deep.

To run free is

scared freedom

creeping.

If she sits alone in silence will the darkness creep up on her?

Stir the story

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Music.

I felt the love I felt the power.

The past & present as one together.

Us singing along, or just looking or thinking.

We were all feeling

“In my life, I love you more�

It was then I could It was then I was okay It was then I was scared

of who I could be

But you saw me there.

You sat by me there.

We were there together.

It was so small where else could we go?

sometimes we went deep inside sometimes we just danced around it sometimes we stayed far away

and went even further.

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the weight

It was then when I heard the

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Will you love me now that I’m gone?

I left for you. For us to grow on the outside & share what we found inside.

Why do I have to be just one person?

when I understand them all

when I listen to them all

when I care about them all.

It’s exhausting. I’m scared & that’s why I run.

Responsibility is too long to even say sometimes.

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frĂŠdĂŠric drouin aka smith smith studio art

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The first bits of paper that I collected and glued together were pictures of my idols, Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix. I was 14 and I absolutely did not want to lose those pictures of them so I started to assemble them religiously ... 20 years later I continue! It became a means of expression in itself, a playground for my life. I love the beauty of the absurd, humor, surrealism and provocation. I love working in the construction as well as the deconstruction of an image... When I approach the creation of a collage I have no specific technique, sometimes I know what I want, sometimes I listen to what the images say, sometimes I cut hundreds of bits of paper and other times of the sets.

But at the end of the story, I wish for one thing, I want both form and content... Collage = Freedom of Thought

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daniel siuba

creative writing

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I have been creating since childhood–mostly through music–but I recently became committed to writing after completing my master’s thesis. Drawing from various poets, depth psychologists, mystical traditions, and religions, I try to articulate complex psychological and interpersonal experiences in a way that is digestible. I hunt for the unseen, unacknowledged, and the repressed, both in the collective and in myself. Dedicated only to relative truth, I aim to provide new ways of seeing, rather than a rigid, dogmatic perspective.

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OnListen ing ...

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I hear a subtle chanting amidst the glow of conversation: What do you mean? I perpetually feel the presence of this question whether it is voiced or not. It stems from a curiosity about the personal experience of the word, concept, or image, combined with its standard definition. Merging definitions with experience results in a kind of linguistic animation: it makes the word alive, vital, and powerful. It also makes the word unique to each individual. In this way, we share ownership, but we also cannot claim any ownership at all, because linguistic real estate is unsellable. Even if you created your own language, its words, terms, and concepts would eventually be appropriated. Words belong to the people, and words belong to no one. Simultaneously ephemeral and eternal, they live on the page or in the mind, but cannot materialize into a concrete existence. They are intangible, yet still felt. They are unseen, but alive.

Since a live discussion is not taking place in real time, I have to initiate this exploration from what I feel is the beginning. In this essay, the starting point is the word dialogue. Not like dialogue in a film script or novel, but a present-tense interpersonal exchange. Beginning with the specific language, we then proceed to the act of sharing words. First, the word is split into two roots: Dia – to move through, throughout, or during; completely (diagnosis, dialect, diathermy) Logue – from Logos, Greek: The rational principle that governs and develops the universe. A word, saying, speech discourse, thought, proportion, ratio, reckoning; akin to legein; to choose, gather, recount tell over, speak.

These definitions are by no means exhaustive, but they are sufficient for our purposes. If I act as linguistic surgeon, sever these limbs, rearrange them, and reattach them, new definitions emerge.

Or new ways of seeing: To move through speech. A ratio of movement. A complete gathering. A reckoning throughout. Movement throughout words. A complete form of speech. Moving through choice.

To move a gathering of words throughout a chosen thought.

I experience a dialogue (or dialoguing) as a nonphysical traversing.

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Each person has something like a spirit–a living invisible inner self.

These selves wander together through a landscape of images, ideas, and emotions. The couple appears to be sitting in a booth at a diner, or sharing a table at a cafe, but they have already left. They have moved inward, to a kind of inner space. The movement is invisible; the distances–immeasurable.

i S I N G H E R PR A I SE S

ii The L I S T E N I N G B ODY

She–the Living Dialogue–fertilizes the air. She facilitates the birth, growth, and death of inspired conversation. She energizes the interpersonal field of experience. She requires attention, focus, and sacrifice. Any preconceived ideas, thoughts, or stories we imagined sharing in the dialogue must be abandoned–what is authentic in the moment will naturally arise. Our attachments must dissolve if we wish to keep the dialogue alive. Initiated by authentic eye contact, or a shared breath, Her presence can be silently invoked. Regardless of method, She–Muse of Conversation, Dyadic Inspiratrice, Lady Logos, Mother of Communal Tongues–must be called. The moment She arrives, we are elevated; all of our human faculties are enlivened, quickened, and made vital in Her presence.

If the listener in a conversation is not consciously aware of their own body below the neck, then very little is being received. Like a radio, if the reception is poor, only scattered bits are heard or understood. If we wish to properly tune ourselves, we must practice listening with our entire body. We must open from toe to head, spine to skull, pelvis to heart. We must unfold ourselves, and unselfconsciously bloom. The receiving itself can be a sufficient (and empathic) response–sometimes nothing needs to be said. Unfortunately, people fill silent and potentially intimate moments out of discomfort. They fear the possibility that they might feel awkward or–god forbid–vulnerable. When these moments are saturated with anxious verbosity, a candle is snuffed out.

You can smell the smoke, if you really pay attention.

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Whole-body listening is also applicable to engaging with works of art. Music may be the obvious example, but visual art also requires a depth of listening. Have you ever looked at a painting with your entire body? Or do you look for a few seconds–and only with your eyes–to judge whether you like or not before you move on? If a piece is approached patiently and curiously with all of our senses, it will tell a story. Paintings vibrate as much as music. Sculptures will speak if given the opportunity. Multi-dimensional works like installations or film can transport us to another dimension. Viewing screens, however, present a challenge. People often lose all sense of their bodies while they sit to watch a film in a theater or on the couch at home (or–dear god–on their smartphones). As their consciousness enters the screen, the sensate world disappears until the film is over. The addictive and repetitive activity of binge-watching films or television quickly becomes a kind of dissociated escapism. But what happens when we listen and observe, full-bodied, to a film? Could it transform us? Where could it take us? If we do not experiment, we will never know. Unless we listen with our whole body, the experiential, emotional, and intellectual richness offered by works of artistic expression will slip away.

Every day, as we repetitively click and scroll on our computers and phones, we are exposed to countless news stories, which are usually filled with human suffering. With a God’s Eye view of the planet, we now have a window into every tragedy on the globe the moment it happens. We consume videos, photos, and stories, with little concern for the bodily and psychological consequences. When I scroll through page after page of the dying, warring, starving, and despairing, my body starts to shut down. I cannot be present, because I am barely breathing. My body cannot process this level of tragedy, and it starts to freeze in response. My mind suggests, “Avoid the internet”, but I cannot avoid it entirely, because I want to be informed about current events in the world. The only way of maneuvering through this–at least so far–has been to limit my exposure, and to be more conscious about what I am absorbing. Permanent hermitage is not an option in the 21st century–even monks have podcasts.

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The DI F F IC U LT Y of S CR E E N S

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Perhaps someone should write a book or a curriculum for a class dedicated to teaching people how to process the massive amounts of traumatic material that they visually ingest on a daily (or hourly) basis. Maybe this idea is rooted in a feeling of helplessness, because whenever I am exposed to these videos, images, and stories, I feel an overwhelming fear, and a loss of control. The confusion can feel so profound that I end up feeling lightheaded, even dizzy at times. I have come to the somewhat obvious conclusion that I am not meant to metabolize the collective traumas of humanity. However, the general population seems to have little concern for the consequences of repetitive exposure to traumatic material, which, to me, is insane.

iv P S YC H IC I M AGE S

Pieces of shattered glass, a roaring lion mouth, waterfall of tears, seven obsidian snakes, a chain of lost islands, impenetrable red brick, a vibrating picture frame: They move from your psyche to mine. I tune to them. I inhale the archetypal energy. The images recalibrate my body. They are moving. I am moving. Now, we are synchronized. Together, we move as one.

Living images are rarely polite. They arrive spontaneously when the mood strikes them, which is rarely convenient for us. They are not born of the personal imagination. They are breathing telepathic paintings. Like little frogs, they hop from your head into mine, ready or not. These images often articulate the psycho-emotional state of an individual, and may perhaps say something about their personal mythology. It is akin to dream sharing–once the image is offered, if it deeply resonates or “hits� me, it penetrates and implants itself. Once I am penetrated, I can begin to penetrate. Then, I am inside. I explore this world of moving images. I intuit, think, feel, and sense. I touch its walls, walk its roads, converse with its characters, and feel its emotions. My toes dig into its invisible ground. Here, in this inner landscape, I am most alive.

Images emerge anytime I am truly listening. The greater the psychic repression or emotional intensity, the louder the image becomes. I wonder whether these are images that individual is incapable of hold-

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ing, or is refusing to acknowledge consciously; other times I wonder if they are messages from their internal world to mine. Either way, the images offer a new perspective, and new way of speaking. By observing them without bias and consciously acknowledging their presence, they wrap around my language and transform it. Whether I am speaking to the conscious ego of another, their unconscious, or to both, makes no difference to me, because the act of honoring the image allows for the possibility of a creative moment.

I have to ask: How often is anyone consciously listening for images?

The question is tinged with urgency, because I am of the position that cultivating this inner sight is necessary if we want life to continue on this planet. Living images must be allowed entrance in order to grow. The world is changing. We are losing rain, ice is melting, forests are burning, and entire species are disappearing. Apathy, denial, and greed have given birth to a world that is destroying itself. Lack of feeling, denial of responsibility, and craving for power provide no soil for new images, or for new life. If we continue to block the conception and birth of new images–consciously or unconsciously–we will be left in a blank and lifeless world.

Living images wake us up. They open our eyes to the mystery of creation. They remind us of the billions and billions of years of evolution that led up to the present moment. In our particular moment in time and space, we have reached a point of dying. Things are breaking down–as they often do–before a death. At critical points in human history, the unconscious–both personal and collective–confronts us with new symbols, new images. These images dictate and guide our future in ways that our egos cannot. If we do not listen, and continue to refuse them, we will only create more suffering. But if we consciously open to them, they will lead us in a new direction, and we can again follow wherever life is trying to go.

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living images are rarely polite

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I am driving my friend through a neighborhood–it looks like Indiana, New Mexico, and California merged into one. Lady Day is on the radio singing, “I Cover the Waterfront”. The sky is indigo and green, filled with clouds and lightning. “Tornados,” I think. Suddenly, we reach a sharp turn.

I stop the car. Then, slowly, I make the turn. Relieved, we curve around the front of a small mountain. We can see the whole valley. There are a few sky scrapers, thousands of homes, highways, and roads, as well as hills and mountains in the distance. Everything is the color of yellow sand, except the larger buildings and houses. I notice multiple funnel clouds, “Look!” I say, “Look at the clouds!” As I say this, the first skyscraper collapses. I realize the entire city is being destroyed by the storm. I feel exhilarated watching the buildings fall. They are just empty structures, I see no people inside of them; I don’t hear any screams. I am captivated by the iridescent blues and neon greens merging together in the sky. I feel safe.

Then, I wake up.

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amanda yamashita

studio art

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The forms I create have a unique physicality and history of their own. They are internal investigations with external bodies. My work playfully explores the personality and presence of the body, beyond muscle and bone.

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No. 5 chelsea little, st. louis 3/4 oz. cognac 1/2 oz. cointreau 1/4 oz. lemon juice 1/4 oz. maraschino liqueur float of tempranillo stir, then add float of tempranillo serve in a champagne coup glass

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The Farkle ariana lombardi, guangzhou, china 2 oz. bourbon 2 ice cubes twist of cotton candy, august sunset dappled on top of hazel, brick, black, emerald horizontal mountains unfolded like a paper fan against grains of highway 6 die (to play our odds against the other - this is part logic, part luck) stir slowly and with care until the ice dissolves serve in a tin can with rain collecting

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photographers, graphic designers, & studio artists Up to 10 high resolution images of your work.

All must include pertinent caption information (name, date, medium, year). If there are specifications or preferences concerning the way in which an image is displayed please include them.

submission guidelines

writers

images

KNACK seeks writing of all kinds. We will even consider recipes, reviews, and essays (although we do not prefer anything that is academic). We seek writers whose work has a distinct voice, is character driven, and is subversive but tasteful. We are not interested in fantasy or genre fiction. You may submit up to 25,000 words and as little as one. We accept simultaneous submissions. No cover letter necessary. All submissions must be 12pt, Times New Roman, double-spaced with page numbers and include your name, e-mail, phone number, and genre.

PDF TIFF JPEG

all submissions KNACK encourages all submitters to include an artist statement with their submission. We believe that your perspective of your work and process is as lucrative as the work itself. This may range from your upbringing and/or education as an artist, what type of work you produce, inspirations, etc. If there are specifications or preferences concerning the way in which an image is displayed please include them. A brief biography including your name, age, current location, and portrait of the artist is also encouraged (no more than 700 words).

written work .doc .docx RTF please include title files for submission with the name of the piece this applies for both writing and visual submissions

knackmagazine1@ gmail.com

subject: Submission (Photography, Studio Art,

Creative Writing, Graphic Design)

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missed a submission deadline?

do not fear!

KNACK operates on a rolling submission system. This means that we will consider work from any artist at any time. Our “deadlines� merely serve as a cutoff for each issue of the magazine. Any and all work sent to knackmagazine1@gmail.com will be considered for submission as long as it follows submission guidelines. The day work is sent merely reflects the issue it will be considered for.

Have questions or suggestions? E-mail us.

We want to hear your thoughts, comments, and concerns.

Sincerely, Ariana Lombardi, Executive Editor

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knack needs your help

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KNACK is requesting material to be reviewed. Reviews extend to any culture-related event that may be happening in the community in which you live. Do you know of an exciting show or exhibition opening? Is there an art collective in your city that deserves some press? Are you a musician, have a band, or are a filmmaker? Send us your CD, movie, or titles of upcoming releases which you’d like to see reviewed in KNACK. We believe that reviews are essential to creating a dialogue about the arts.

If something thrills you, we want to know about it and share it with the KNACK community—no matter if you live in the New York or Los Angeles, Montreal or Mexico.

All review material can be sent to knackmagazine1@gmail.com. Please send a copy of CDs and films to 4319 North Greenview Ave, Chicago, IL 60613. If you would like review material returned to you include return postage and packaging. Entries should contain pertinent details such as name, year, release date, websites and links (if applicable). For community events we ask that information be sent up to two months in advance to allow proper time for assignment and review.

We look forward to seeing and hearing your work.

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