KNACK Magazine #33

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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 chelsey alden editor

cover jonathon duarte spreads a.c. vaca

knackmagazine1 at gmail.com

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featured artists 4 erin haldane 8 ana victoria aguirre 16 marcus zúùiga 28 quick look 38 submission guidelines 44

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erin haldane

ana victoria aguirre

Erin Haldane graduated from Santa Fe University of Art and Design with a BFA in painting in 2014. She has since spent a year in Anchorage, Alaska and now resides in Eugene, Oregon.

She plans on attending graduate school in the next couple years to pursue training in art therapy.

Born and raised in Torre贸n, Mexico, Ana Victoria is a 22-year-old graphic designer finishing her last year at Santa Fe University of Art and Design. She is a dreamer who converses with form and color.

In addition to painting and drawing, Erin also enjoys knitting, crocheting, beading, quilting, and origami.

av-aa.com

erinhaldane.com erin.k.haldane@gmail.com

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marcus zúñiga

Marcus Zúñiga was born May 29, 1990 in Silver City, NM. He has lived in several small New Mexican communities and currently resides in Santa Fe, NM. Zúñiga graduated from the University of New Mexico in 2013 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. He has since exhibited his work at various venues in the Southwest including the Harwood Art Center, Museum of Contemporary Art – Tucson, ARTS Lab, the University of New Mexico Centennial Science and Engineering Library, and the Los Angeles Center for Digital Arts.

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k:33

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knack an acquired or natural skill at performing a task an adroit way of doing something a clever trick or stratagem

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erin haldane

studio art

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My current work focuses primarily on dreams and memory and the way they can overlap to create narratives of absurdity, humor, and whimsy, as well as beauty and expression. My pieces have become a visual documentation of the place in which my reality slips into a daydream. I like to employ pattern because of its ability to convey tone, place, and time and how subjectively each of those can be interpreted. I try to feature people, things, and places, that are not tied directly to anything tangible, explainable, or recognizable. I like to take my own memories out of context and allow them to create a new narrative within the body of my work. Presenting my viewer with a question or fragmented story that has no right or wrong answer or ending, is where my interest as an artist lies.

Process is just as important to me as product. Though I primarily use oil paints, I consider myself to be a multimedia collagist. I like to see my own hand in everything I do: from building the support or stretching the fabric, to rendering the shadow on a subject’s face. The translation from eye or photograph to hand and surface is very important to me. The slightest changes or slips are signifiers of personal touch and unique perception.

Even the most realistically rendered painting is still abstracted reality and I find that very liberating and endlessly fascinating. By utilizing different materials, such as textured fabric, working on any given piece has become a real visceral experience and often influences the finished piece in ways I never could have imagined.

There is nothing more rewarding for me than making and creating.

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Date Night

Landscape 1

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Landscape 2

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Rose Colored Glasses

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Untitled

Landscape 3

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Somewhere at Something 1

Wallflowers

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Snail

Somewhere at Something 2

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ana victoria aguirre

graphic design

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I think I can talk to form and color.

I’m a dreamer, I know.

I just feel it when they say, “We are happily juxtaposed.”

My heart stops for a second.

Time freezes.

Everything at that moment feels perfect.

And then, I say to myself, well done.

A great satisfaction embraces me, and life goes on.

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marcus zúùiga

video art

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My work shares imagery of the universe through observational studies, and creates ideas that concentrate on identity and place, and their relations with one another.

I believe this practice to be a continuation of indigenous sciences and astronomies from pre-Columbian eras.

With my work, I show the universe as it moves in real time, constantly changing and aging. I present these works with familiar and comfortable imagery accessible to all viewers, with the addition of new contexts and concepts that transform a reminiscent visual into a symbol that carries multi-dimensional purposes. I draw inspiration from the formal movements of minimalism, cubism, and surrealism. The videos all thematically relate to the general purpose of my artistic practice; contributing to the visual identity of my Southwestern Chicano culture with informed and conscious ideas.

By presenting my work with titles in Spanish and Nahuatl, along with scientific vocabulary, a new context is given to this imagery which allows new interpretations and perspectives to enter the viewer’s mind. In the age of a growing U.S. Latino population, it is important that individual sub-cultural Latino communities begin establishing contemporary visual identities. My contribution to this is my practice. By studying the environment that I’ve lived in throughout my life, I create this work with the purpose of bringing an understanding and awareness of place and identity in relation to the larger connectivity of universal sciences and energy.

My interest in video is its time based component. This allows for the videos to function as moving imagery that I design to exist on an endless loop. There is an artistic freedom that video can provide as opposed to the forever frozen moments of other art mediums. It is important for the videos to be digitally existing and electronically displayed. The digital aspect allows the art to be in dialogue with a realm of information that exists virtually and, without power, invisibly. This is not too dissimilar from electromagnetic waves in their function and our interpretations of them. The videos are designed to be displayed through any of the current video exhibiting technologies.

All of these technologies are appropriate for their use of light and electronics. It creates a dialogue of sensible, physical material in relation to the video, which sometimes can include the imagery of the video as well.

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CONS TEL ACION ES I ( TES SER AC T, SPI R A L , PEN ROSE)

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2015, TH R EE CH A N N EL V I D EO O N LOO P

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GUA DA LU PE, 2015, D I G ITA L V I D EO ON LOOP

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OB SERVACION ES (SOL , TL A HUIZC A L PA N TECU H TL I, M E T ZL I), 2015, TH R EE CH A N N EL V I D EO O N LOO P

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TE YOL I A , 2012, D I G ITA L V I D EO, 19 SECO N DS

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quick look

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p.40 anonymous p.42 allyson lupovich, a photographer and writer from Montreal, Canada. She creates work that investigates the relationship between the facade, interior and home. She explores the act of picture making by addressing the emotional values we place on images, and what it means to take a photograph. allysonlupovich.tumblr.com

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I am writing this from a state of inebriation—whiskey, I believe it was—late one evening in a dark, cold January. I have taken it upon myself to write this correspondence to you,

To my dearest reader,

FROM THE EDITOR

SCIENCE VS. ROMANCE Take Offs and Landings 2001 — WITH ARMS OUTSTRETCHED AND THAT'S HOW I CHOOSE TO REMEMBER IT The Execution of All Things 2002 — IT'S A HIT PORTIONS FOR FOXES MORE ADVENTUROUS A MAN, ME, THEN JIM More Adventurous 2004 — DREAMWORLD More Adventurous 2004 — LET ME BACK IN IT'LL GET YOU THERE RKives 2007

Vol. 3

‘Cause you’re just damage control for a walking corpse like me, like you; ‘cause we’ll all be portions for foxes. Yeah, we’ll all be portions for foxes.

Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett

You’re bad news, baby you’re bad news; and you’re bad news, baby you’re bad news; and you’re bad news, I don’t care I like you—and you’re bad news, I don’t care—I like you. I like you.

There’s a pretty young thing in front of you; and she’s real pretty, and she’s real into you, and then she’s sleeping inside of you. And the talking leads to touching, and the touching leads to sex, and then there is no mystery left; and it’s bad news. I don’t blame you, I do the same thing—I get lonely too. And you’re bad news; my friends tell me to leave you; that you’re bad news, bad news, bad news.

“And the talking leads to touching, and the touching leads to sex, and then there is no mystery left”

I know I’m alone if I’m with or without you, but just being around you offers me another form of relief; When the loneliness leads to bad dreams, and the bad dreams lead me to calling you, and I call you and say “come here!” And it’s bad news, baby I’m bad news—I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news. And it’s bad news, baby it’s bad news. It’s just bad news, bad news, bad news.

There’s blood in my mouth because I’ve been biting my tongue all week. I keep on talking trash, but I never say anything. And the talking leads to touching, and the touching leads to sex, and then there is no mystery left; and it’s bad news, baby, I’m bad news—I’m just bad news, bad news, bad news!

PORTIONS FOR FOXES

Any chimp can play human for a day, and use his opposable thumbs to iron his uniform; and run for office on election day and fancy himself a real decision maker then deploy more troops than salt in a shaker.

My mom she cried about money and time and how she felt older. I didn't understand much She left and I stayed, my dad played in the bar.

We traveled all night—The clouds fooled us into seeing snow as far as we could see but it was summer and the sun came up and never went down for two whole weeks.

When dad moved out to a frozen land, the TV was jumping, and it didn't quite feel right. The cards they came with pictures of frozen lights and giant frozen sculptures, so big, right beside him, carved out of snow.

AND THAT'S HOW I IT'S A HIT CHOOSE TO REMEMBER IT

Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett

It's sixteen miles to the promised land, and I promise you I'm doing the best I can. Now, don't fool yourself in thinking you're more than a man, 'cause you'll probably end up dead. I visit these mountains with frequency and I stand here with my arms up.

Now, some days, they last longer than others, but this day, by the lake, went too fast and if you want me you better speak up—I won't wait—so you'd better move fast!

Don't fool yourself in thinking you're more than you are with your arms outstretched to me.

Now, it's sixteen miles to the promised land, and I promise you, I'm doing the best I can. Now, some days, they last longer than others, but this day, by the lake, went too fast; and if you want me, you better speak up—I won't wait!—so you'd better move fast!

And some days, they last longer than others, but this day, by the lake, went too fast; and if you want me, you better speak up—I won't wait!—so you'd better move fast!

WITH ARMS OUTSTRETCHED

Monday November 11, 1946

Let it be printed, let it be known, I'm leaving you, I'm going home, and all you can do is just watch me go.

I've put you down, talked you up, defended your honor, and then packed it in and picked it up, and all you can do is watch me go.

From the Eastern seaboard, the landlocked Midwest, the Keys, the Alps, the Black Hills and Budapest—with my heart in a sling, tail between my legs a-swinging, I'm sorry for leaving.

But when the palm trees bow their heads, no matter how wrong I've been, LA, you always let me back in.

And you can bury me when my body breaks in the earth that created me, in the Golden State; by my mama, and her brother, and their mama too.

'Cause I had a dream I was carried on backs of a thousand green birds, and they carried me to a

She was the girl with the string around her neck, with the boy who could only give her less. It could be more if she learned to never expect, and now she's her and him and then a baby next. The wedding bells won't ring, but she couldn't care less—you exist when you're living in a dream world.

He grew up drinking milk from the cow, from the farm. He was the traitor's father's father's father.

His father made him go give back to his country. He gave his both knees, his overseas to fight the disease—it's spreading fast over maps and it don't look back when you're living in a dream world.

It is a lion's science fiction wings, just like a jolly dizzy for zero, one, three times. The size of the people that came before—me and you and what we'd do for money. This greed and jealousy turn to need.

See, I'm a man with a plan to use my hands. I'm touching yours,

LET ME BACK IN DREAMWORLD

Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett

I used to think if I could realize I'd die then I would be a lot nicer—used to believe in a lot more, now I just see straight ahead. That's not to say I don't have good times but as for my days, I spend them waiting.

Crash sites keep me up at night; impact, division, it splits in two directly underneath you. As for those things—as for those things—that act as markers in your life, but in between—but in between—you can't remember, and so it seems—and so it seems—that you've grown up and over me—up and over me—and these silly things—these silly things—I like to dwell on.

Test sites keep me up at night; chainlink and meters—I talk to you, it's cold out there but I'm telling you I'm lonely too.

Facts versus romance, you go and call yourself the boss but we're not robots inside a grid. Text versus romance, you go and add it all you want, still we're not robots inside a grid.

Zeros and Ones.

SCIENCE VERSUS ROMANCE

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LJG

“it's a magical world, ol' buddy! let's go exploring!”

In closing, I shall leave with you a quote from a great childhood influence of mine:

So, for now, I must tip my hat and walk away—the distance between us on this planet can only grow so great before we are walking back towards one another, and on the day we re-meet, we shall reminisce, laugh, and love. But until then, our paths must remain as separate trails through the jungle.

However, you may begin to notice my absence from your life, if you have not already sensed a change. I must now focus on myself and my place on this planet; I have not been blessed with immortality, but I have been given drive and creativity, and there is surely a manner in which I can use these gifts to leave some sort of lasting relic to myself, and to humanity.

I have long known that you can do anything you put your heart and mind to, and I beseech you to keep that knowledge with you, even in your toughest of times. More than anything else in this skeleton of a soul that I carry, I want you to find your lasting happiness, however you may best achieve that. As such, I will always support you and your endeavors, even if my physical presence is oft found to be absent. If you ever feel that you need someone to listen to you, to remind you that you are indeed on the right path, I will always be available for you.

No, dear friend, this is both a letter of affection and admiration, yet also a temporary adieu—I, for a grand reason that I have yet to understand, will always hold a special place for you in my heart, mind, and soul—a fact I suspect you already understand to be true. But this letter is not a request for a rash, requited action upon your part—rather, it seeks quite the opposite: to give you a positive reinforcement of yourself and to encourage you to continue on the path you're traveling.

and it indeed should be considered a letter of “I love you”, but not in the common manner, oft typified by silly, irrational acts such as the theft of a blue tuba, or other such nonsense.

Jenny Lewis

I'm a holiday for hanging, I'm a holiday for hanging, I'm a holiday yeah, I'm a holiday for hanging, it's a holiday for hanging, yeah.

It's a holiday for hanging, yeah.

It's a holiday for hanging, yeah. It's a holiday for hanging, yeah. It's a holiday for hanging, yeah.

But you still wear a cross, and you think you're gonna get in.

But the pardons never come from upstairs; they're always a moment too late. But it's Entertainment— keep the crowd on their toes, it's justice, we're safe. It's not a hit, it's a holiday. Shoo-bop, shoo-bop, my baby.

Any fool can play executioner for a day, and say, with fingers pointed in both directions, "He went that-a-way! It's only a switch or syringe; I'm exempt from eternal sins!"

And if it's not, then it's a holiday for a hanging. Yeah, it's a holiday for hanging. It's a holiday for hanging.

'Shoo-bop, shoo-bop, my baby.'

But it's a sin when success complains, and your writer's block? It don't mean shit. Just throw it against the wall, and see what sticks. 'Gotta write a hit!—I think this is it. It's a hit!'

Any idiot can play Greek for a day and join a sorority or write a tragedy and articulate all that pain, and maybe you'll get paid.

But if she blinks or smiles, she'll give you away, 'cause no one wants to pay to see her happiness—no one wants to pay to see her day to day; and I'm not buying it either... but I'll try selling it anyway.

Any asshole can open up a museum; put all of the things he loves on display so everyone can see them. The house, the car, a thoughtful wife; ordinary moments in his ordinary life.

But it's a jungle when war is made, and you'll panic and throw your own shit at the enemy—the camera pulls back to reveal your true identity—"Look, it's a sheep in wolf's clothing; a smoking gun holding ape!"

Blake Sennett and Morgan Nagler

you're the girl who wanted more.

Now baby, the story has faded from love to lie. The clover under your feet is shooting stars in the night. The people under your feet are shooting stars in the night. The people, all that you meet, they're living in a dream world. They’re living in a dream world.

All the pennies that you save, they will get you there. All the hearts that you break, they will get you there "You can sleep upon my doorstep, you can promise me indifference, Jim. But my mind is made up, and I'll never let you in again. For the slow fade of love it might hit you from below—It's your gradual descent into a life you never meant. It's the slow fade of love."

Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett

It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there.

It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. I will get you there.

"Diana, Diana, Diana—I would die for you! I'm in love with you completely, I'm afraid that's all I can do!"

Jenny Lewis

It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there.

It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. I will get you there.

All the hostages that you take, they will get you there. All the hands that you shake, they will get you there. All the conman that you fake, they will get you there. All the hearts that you break, they will get you there.

She said,

It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there. It’ll get you there.

I was driving south of Melrose when I happened upon my old lover's old house. I found myself staring at the closed oak door like the day she threw me out.

All the trips that you take, they will get you there. All the little white pills you take, they will get you there. All the compliments that you take, they will get you there. All the hearts that you break, they will get you there.

IT'LL GET YOU THERE

Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett

I've been trying to nod my head, but it's like I've got a broken neck.

Wanting to say 'I will' as my last testament. For you to be saved and me to be brave, we don't have to walk down that aisle—'cause if marriage ain't enough, well, at least we'll be loved.

I've felt the wind on my cheek coming down from the east and thought about how we are all as numerous as leaves on trees, and maybe ours is the cause of all mankind—get loved, make more, try to stay alive.

I've been trying to nod my head, but it's like I've got a broken neck.

Wanting to say 'I will' as my last testament. For me to be saved and you to be brave, we don't have to walk down that aisle—'cause if marriage ain't enough, well, at least we'll be loved.

And f my brain quits, well, I guess then that's just it, and if my hands stop working you can call me lazy, and if I get pregnant, I guess I'll just have the baby. Let it be loved! Let me be loved!

And if you banish me from your profits and if I get banished from the kingdom up above, I'd sacrifice money and heaven, all for love—let me be loved! Let me be loved!

And it's only doubts that we're counting on fingers broken long ago.

I read with every broken heart, we should become more adventurous.

MORE ADVENTUROUS

Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett

place without words and there was nothing, but there was everything, and it sounded like this.

But when the palm trees bow their heads, no matter how cruel I've been, LA, you always let me back in.

And when the palm trees bow their heads, no matter how cruel I've been, LA, you always let me back in.

"He said, 'the slow fade of love, and its mist might choke you. It's my gradual descent into a life I never meant—It's the slow fade of love."

"I'm surprised you noticed. Well, my husband, he's leaving, and I can't convince him to stay; and he'll take our daughter with him—she wants to go with him anyway. I'm sorry I'm hard to live with, but living is the problem for me. I'm selling people things they don't want when I don't know what they need.

She said,

"Hey, what troubles you?"

I said,

A woman calls my house once a week, she's always selling things—some charity, a phone plan, a subscription to a magazine. And as I turned her down—I always do—there was something trembling in her voice.

"The slow fade of love, its soft edge might cut you, and our poor friend, Jim, well, he just lived within the slow fade of love."

She said,

I had one friend in high school, recently he hung himself with string.

His note said, 'If living is the problem, well, that's just baffling.' And at the wake, I waited around to see my ex-first love, and I barely recognized her, but I knew exactly what she was thinking of. We sat quietly in the corner, whispering close about loss, and I remembered why I loved her, and I asked her why I drove her off.

A MAN, ME, THEN JIM

Jenny Lewis

My dad was there, it was summer's last eve, and that's how I choose to remember it.

There was a boy who wanted to skate with me—he held my hand and we went around more times I counted by a mural of an Arctic scene. I was looking at my feet because it was perfect and the air was clean.

My dad was nice and seemed sorry for not being around, he left work early and took me to a skating rink where all of the kids in the world could have been. I was scared and tall with skates on and my favorite jeans.

In the airport I had seen or imagined a mural of an arctic scene with seals and people that seemed nicer than me where they smoked and talked about the disappearing ground.

I wondered if I looked like him—he was small even with boots on; he looked like an Eskimo, and we were in Alaska.

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INTO SO MANY PIECES

INTO A MILLION PIECES

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i’ll pray on words i’ll never say, inside the time, the shadows form, and feed the dark, i’ll always stay but not for long.

you consume me always now, maybe later i’ll forget, it’s hard when you’re there always.

come the winter now and watch a part of me fall apart into so many pieces.

you’ll spin me around and around until i fall apart into a million pieces.

but maybe this is just for now

it always has been.

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You are hanging out with your two best friends that are dating.

You leave her bedroom awkwardly because they’re going to fuck.

You grab the things that are important like your face wash, cell phone and charger, and go into the guest room that her OCD mother fixed up that day.

Sheets washed, clean pillows and vacuumed carpet, with some freshly-washed garments hanging to dry.

The room is off-turquoise, with beige-pink and grey accents.

The internet modem is the only thing sitting on the desk shoved in the corner.

After washing your face you come back into the room, shut the light off and get underneath the covers.

It’s mid May, and the sound of the rain dripping from the roof onto the trees is exactly how you remember.

You subtly think about them having sex down the hall.

You start listening to the calmness of the tropical city air, while tiny droplets of rain seep through the open window onto your upper lip.

It’s 3:19am and the rain is coming down harder.

The harder it falls, the faster you drift off to sleep.

You remember the people you once knew in this city, and how you never quite fit in.

Or how you saw things differently.

You were always a f ly on the wall, always searching for your rightful place, but you always felt disconnected from the place you knew best.

That’s why you left.

That’s why you went as far as you could, to a place you once dreamt about.

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WHILE TINY DROPLETS OF R AIN SEEP THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW ONTO YOUR UPPER LIP

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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

pass it on

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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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