KNACK Magazine #66

KNACK

no. 66

KNACK Magazine is dedicated to showcasing the work of artists of all mediums, and to discuss trends and ideas of art communities. KNACK Magazine’s ultimate aim is to connect and inspire emerging artists, working artists and established artists. We strive to create a place for

artists,

writers,

design-

ers, thinkers, and innovators to collaborate and produce a

unique,

informative,

unprecedented art

magazine

and

web-based each

month.

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES PHOTOGRAPHERS, GRAPHIC DESIGNERS & STUDIO ARTISTS: 10-12 high resolution images of your work. All should include pertinent caption information (name, date, medium, year).

WRITERS: You may submit up to 3,000 words and as little as one. We accept simultaneous submissions. No cover letter necessary. All submissions must be 12pt, Times New Roman, single or double-spaced with page numbers and include your name, e-mail, phone number, and genre.

KNACK seeks writing of all kinds. We will even consider recipes, reviews, and essays. We seek writers whose work has a distinct voice, is character driven, and is subversive but tasteful.

ALL SUBMISSIONS: KNACK encourages all submitters to include a portrait, a brief biography, which can include; your name, age, current location, awards, contact information, etc. (no more than 250 words). And an artist statement (no more than 500 words). 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.

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Please title files for submission with the name of the piece. This applies for both writing and visual submissions. *PLEASE TITLE FILES FOR SUBMISSION WITH THE NAME OF THE PIECE. THIS APPLIES FOR BOTH WRITING AND VISUAL SUBMISSIONS.

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REVIEWS

KNACK Magazine is requesting material to be reviewed. Reviews extend to any culture related event that may be happening in your community. 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 Magazine. 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 Magazine 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 N. 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.

EDITORS & STAFF Andrea Catalina Vaca Co-Founder, Publisher, Editor-In-Chief, Artist Coordinator, Digital Operations, Photographer, Designer, Circulation Director, Production Manager, Business Manager Jonathon Duarte Co-Founder, Creative Director Ariana Lombardi Co-Founder, Executive Editor, Artist Coordinator, Writer Chelsey Alden Editor, Writer Fernando Gaverd Digital Operations, Designer BFrank Designer

Cover Design: Andrea Catalina Vaca First & Last Spread Photography: A.C. Vaca Photography Magazine Design: Andrea Catalina Vaca

CONTENTS Artist Biographies 10

16 32 42 52 62 70

FEATURED ARTISTS

Njabulo Nkambule Md. Anisul Haque Sonjaye Maurya Salisalima Ratha Radu-Mihai Tanasa Laura Stoica

SPECIAL FEATURE DANCE

Ensemble /K/inêtikos’ 76 RECIPROCALS

QUICK LOOK ARTISTS

82 Komal Karad 84 Shubham Swami

KNACK Magazine, Issue #66

A R T I S T

B I O G R A P H I E S

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Njabulo Nkambule

Md. Anisul Haque

Njabulo Nkambule is a w r i t e r, musician, student, and poet from the Kingdom of Eswatini (formerly Swaziland). Author of the upcoming anthology Poetry Universe.

Nkambule also performs stand-up poetry. Currently, Nkambule is studying Journalism and Mass Communication at the University of Eswatini.

Md. Anisul Haque is an artist from Bangladesh.

He holds a BFA, and two MFAs in ceramics. Haque’s first solo exhibition, entitled Unfortunate Aspect of Humanity, was shown in 2019 at Nanjing University of the Arts, China. In 2020, his second solo exhibition entitled SCENE was held at X Space Art Space, Guyilang, Nanjing, China. Among many other awards, he received the Honorable Mention Award during the art exhibition entitled “Celebrating Mother Language in the Light of Art,” organized

by Artopolitan, and Bangladesh Shilpakala Academy in 2019. At present, Haque works as a ceramicist at Studio Vukhand.

W e b s i t e : h t t p s : / / w w w. l i n k t r. ee/dabluekiddie Website: https://www.booknet.com/en/book/march2 8 t h - b 2 8 1 7 6 5 Instagram: dablue_kiddie

Email: anis_cedu@yahoo.com Website: https://artisticanis. blogspot.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CRAMIC7anis

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Sonjaye Maurya

Salisalima Ratha

Sonjaye Maurya is an artist from Mumbai, India, with international recognition.

Maurya is a self taught artist bestowed with numerous awards like, Kala Ratan Award and the Swami Vivekananda Excellence Award. Many of Maurya’s works are neither realistic representation nor abstract.

Salisalima Ratha is from the Balangir District in Odisha, India. Ratha has an M.Phil in Economics from Sambalpur University, Odisha, India, and an MBA in Finance from the Institute of Management Technology, Ghaziabad, India.

Ratha then married and moved to Delhi in 2009 and currently has 12 years of corporate experience.

Email: sonjayemaurya@gmail. com Facebook: sonjaye.maurya.art. world Facebook: https://www. facebook.com/groups/creativeartaffairs YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/ channel/UC1wSBfMh-UjkRW4JbvKqdiA?app=desktop

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Email: rathasalisalima@gmail. com Instagram: salisalimaratha

Radu-Mihai Tanasa

Laura Stoica

Radu-Mihai Tanasa is an emerging artist with a deep appreciation and respect for the contemporary artistic world, and a passion for politics and everything creative.

Laura Stoica holds a degree in oil painting and is currently studying illustration and advertising at the National University of Arts George Enescu, Iasi, Romania.

Website: https://www.behance.net/raduthe Instagram: radutheguy

Email: stc.laura@gmail.com Website: https://www.behance.net/laurastoica

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FEATU A RT I

URED ISTS

Njabulo NKAMBULE I believe that words can either kill or heal a soul. I breathe poetry, I consume it, and through its words, through its own world, is where I find peace to connect with the unseen.

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I Will Rise I will rise after every fall, I will rise and pick-up my fallen self from the soil, I will rise to walk and stand tall, Like the trees as they develop from seeds, They rise and grow to great heights, still standing tall.

I will rise and make myself fruitful, I will rise like the sun that never conks out, But set every night, And every day it does rise.

I will rise up from the ashes like the phoenix, I will rise even when life gives me so many problems, I will still stand tall to find solutions, I will rise even after life has flooded my eyes with tears, I will rise and then wear a smile on my face.

I’ve come too far to give up now, I can’t quit because I wasn’t born to be a failure.

I will rise until I become triumphant, I will rise until my achievement is publicly declared, Even after falling once, twice, or thrice, Again, again, and again.

I will still rise to remain firm like the Eiffel Tower, Because I know my grounds and abilities, I will rise, I will rise.

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My Black Doesn’t Crack They made her break stones, Thinking that they were breaking her self esteem, Little did they know that she was imbokodvo, The being that faces challenges without any fear.

You stood up, when no one wanted to, You gambled with your own life, For every women in existence to be free, Because a nation with oppression, is not yet free, My black doesn’t crack Because you made sure that you restored that, Through women’s power, For I am an African and I’m proud of that, A woman of worth you really are.

Like a battle shield, You embraced everything under your skin Because your black doesn’t crack.

The very same country you fought for has turned against you, They claim to celebrate you while they prepare to break you down, Not providing the protection you deserve.

How can they do such evilness to you?

Try to manipulate you & rape you?

Do they know who you really are?

The struggle wasn’t the same the moment you joined, We are still swimming in those memories, You never asked for war, for any bloodshed, But just your voices to be heard and not ignored.

Your black doesn’t crack because you’re strong, You’re imbokodvo—exposed to so many challenges.

You face storms, rains, drought, but because you are a woman You are strong, you always come out alive, a survivor, Stronger than the word itself, Extra exceptional to the regulars, You’re really a black woman, and being black is being proud And when you’re proud, automatically you are free from the oppressors, The ones in authority, which you faced and overcame like a healed sore.

With all your might, As your black doesn’t crack, you are truly a beautiful sight, I declare you heroic with your beautiful deeds, You always wear a look of confidence on your face, Because you are not just a woman but a woman of strength, A woman of integrity and in times of destruction, You made sure that you created something, Because you are not just any woman, Since your black doesn’t crack, You are a woman of strength, courage, and positivity.

Torn Knees Torn knees!

Torn knees!

How am I supposed to kneel down?

Knowing that I have to pray in order for God to provide me with inner peace.

Just to ease the anguish I am going through.

Jagged edges on my cloth, I feel so hurt Having an unhealing sore deep inside my heart I try to separate myself from the rest just to stay apart, I can feel the pain like I have been beaten with a quirt.

The mind and heart racing just to spurt The infliction into my heart.

Look at my scars, They represent my lacerations, My heart distorted.

Everything of mine shapeless as my world is like scorched earth, I feel so deserted and that’s only because of my torn knees.

Will I ever be free of this misery, the pain and chains that tie me down?

I pray to God, but he doesn’t want to answer my prayers, Shift the blame to the paper but still my jagged torn knees are on my case.

It is not like I’m in need of your food, I just need to feed the inner me.

Heal the wounds deep inside me.

I’m thirsty but please keep your water, If I was that thirsty, I would finish all the water in the ocean.

Let me walk tall like I have achieved so much in life.

But these torn knees keep pulling me back, Back to the saddening and lousy life, Back to where I originate, Back to where my family tree lies, That is where my roots are.

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Slaved By My Own Blood Placards on the above sky, Flags swinging from left to right, back and forth, Masses protesting.

Why are we slaved by our blood?

We share the same skin colour, continent, country.

Power hungry, desperate human beings, Destroy everything instead of making it work out.

I see the streets painted in red, Blood flushing down the water drains, There isn’t any peace on these lands.

Police brutality clouding the nation, Injustice not shamed at all, Done trying to sugar-coat wickedness, Even if we hid our heads under the sand, We will still hear screams and cries of our very own, These evil people will continue killing us like insects.

Is this because of power?

Many authorities abuse what they have on their hands and that’s power.

Isn’t unlawful arrest an injustice?

Isn’t it a threat to the justice out there?

Slaved by my very own blood and brother, Police officers are monsters in uniform, Made to protect the society, But they push their own agendas.

Different eras, different times, Back then they used to arrest thieves, Now they shoot and kill innocent people.

How can a police detain, harass, murder,

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Even kidnap a citizen he is expected to protect?

Imagine being threatened or arrested for not giving them bribes.

Isn’t that stealing money from the suffering society?

It is a world flooded with cruelty and absurdities.

The world is not a safe place any more, Our sisters get raped by these beings, Thugs in police uniforms.

You would swear that, They are paid to be mean and violent towards people.

Discrimination, prejudice, racism and xenophobia, The angels of dark deeds, Ruling these lands that our ancestors left us.

For them, it’s easier to take life than to fund hospitals, In order to save lives.

The stomach is empty yet every gun is loaded with bullets, Bullets that will shoot and claim someone’s life.

We get beaten and shot at like we are wild animals.

We are expected to be silent, Not to voice out our main challenges.

Why are we slaved by our blood?

By our very own sisters and brothers.

We are caged, frightened, and fearful of our own lives.

We are ruled by Napoleon, People who do not care about the welfare of the citizens, Police brutality is a disease, It spreads like a cold or flu.

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Beneath The Scars Beneath the scars.

Beneath the scars lies a story, An old one that has never been told, Because it would trigger and arouse sad memories, Retentiveness of everything that happened.

The deeper you look at scars, That’s when you will initiate visualizing them as stars, Because they are always visible to the eyes like gashed wounds.

Beneath the scars, Beneath the scars lies a story, As a scar always leave its mark, They are not like many people out-there, People who change their colours now and then like chameleons, And since life is more like a marathon, A lot of them get tired and lost along the way.

But scars, they remain in a person’s flesh Longer than most people do.

Beneath the scars, Beneath the scars lies a story, A story filled with sadness, annoyance, and so much pain, That breaks a human heart and causes stress in his brain.

People who cause us scars, are those who are close to our hearts, Those that we love the most.

We love them so much that they leave us with thousands of scars.

The unfading cicatrix resembles the brokenness written upon my flesh.

The tormenting battles within myself, in my brain and heart, Will never fade away as long as my scars are still existing.

Beneath the scars, Beneath the scars lies story, But coming back to reality, the bleeding will eventually halt, And the wounds will soon start healing creating the scars, But after this process, your problems will still not be fixed, Because beneath the scars lies a story but not just any story, A painful story since wounds are so real.

Scars tell a story of where we come from, They reflect how our past used to look like, And those scars are the ones that carve us into the people that we are to be.

Scars are like a closed book, they shouldn’t be judged by just a look, Look deep within and find meanings, Because beneath the scars lies a story.

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Why My Street?

The morning breeze so calm and friendly, The morning sunlight so bright and beautiful, Making everything wonderful and cheerful.

With the vegetation engulfed in a smile.

Violence is a way of living.

An ugly culture adopted, With unity and solidarity aborted, With everything and everyone disconnected, We are separated from each other.

Guns and knives the friendly toys, Executing people Without giving them a second chance or even hope, Mugging and stealing is not a problem, Even stabbing to claim a life is seen as a beautiful thing.

My street is not a place for good-hearted people, The street that is so manipulative.

It introduces a good girl to promiscuity, A church boy to violence, My street is an ugly place.

A pastor on Sundays but a sinner on weekdays.

My street is not a place to be, But a place to live in fear and unhappiness, Sometimes I ask God if he is still out there?

Why my street? Are we cursed?

Are we made to suffer on purpose?

Why is my street not a place for hope, peace, and love?

Why my street?

Why is it not a good place filled with warmth?

Not a place full of cold-hearted people.

Why are people getting butchered, like wild animals.

My street is not a good place, An awesome land, or an area of hope.

My street is an ugly location in a beautiful world, Not a home for the faint-hearted, Even if you try to resist it, its ugliness will eventually consume you.

Move out of it, while you still can.

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I Can’t Breathe I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

I’m running out of breath.

My heart is heavy, I’m sinking in pain, I’m so hurt and I cannot help it at all.

I’m running out of time, I feel lost, With my mind taken elsewhere, I can’t think straight.

I’m tired of everything in this universe, I’m tired of everything being made a racial issue, I’m tired of black being made a personality trait.

It is just a matter of skin as the blood we bleed is the same, Why let that rule your mind—engulf everything in your brain and eyesight?

I can’t breathe.

How can you be so proud that you are taking other races down?

We haven’t changed a bit for a better future to elevate ourselves.

Instead of helping each other rise and become triumphantly united, They break us in every way until we fall and then they celebrate.

Celebrate while love and life is lost, While our ego and self-esteem is broken into pieces like broken glass.

I know they say ignorance is bliss, but I say ignorance kills, Because it is the black heart they fear.

I’m unapologetically black and I’m proud of my melanin, That’s why I’m blessed, blessed to never forget what you did, You did me wrong—enslaved me, robbed me of my roots and treated me like an ox.

I can’t forget that you made me feel ashamed of my own skin, Asking the creator absurd questions like why he made me a black child.

I cannot change the color of my skin, like I cannot change yours, My hurting heart cannot bury your shame.

Racism is not what is being taught or televised, It is the hate you have in your head & heart toward other races, Racism is a turmoil affecting the whole world at large.

Why must one suffer and be murdered because of skin color?

Racist people are trying to blind mankind.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

I CAN’T BREATHE

E

You’re hurting me and I can feel my whole body trembling.

We all know that the government cannot heal the wounds Between blacks and whites, for they always bring racism into the equation.

They know that the moment they take racism out, Like a lightbulb being switched off, The whole room dominated by thick darkness, So would be the end of their power.

When a black child cries, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, When we cry foul, they act as if no one hears or sees.

We hope that racists get jailed and sentenced, That the perpetrators get their well-deserved evil ransom, Since racial explosives are more toxic than grenades and bullets.

Racism is a wicked demon only here to fight peace and love in this world, I can’t breathe, Your knee on my neck feels like a noose, Taking my life as it strangles me.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

Why execute me like this?

As if I’ve murdered a saint in a church on a Sunday.

But when a white person kills someone, He doesn’t get beat up, with his head pressed against the concrete, Handcuffed and not given an ear when he begs for his own life.

My heart bleeds and it is hard for me to forgive, I’m screaming blue murder, it’s been long since we started, With this bone of contention.

#actagainstracism #blacklivesmatter #blackandproud

My Heart Sinks My heart sinks knowing that you took something from me, Something so priceless that can never be replaced or even bought, Trust was there and you stole it, crushed it then dumped it in a pit.

Your appearance tells a different story about you, Not reflecting the monster within you.

My mind changed, had a massive twist, I couldn’t think straight, You broke me, took me for a ride, Not realizing that you were chopping me into pieces, I didn’t hear the anger in your voice, Neither did I see the hunger in your eyes, But only your innocent, soft appearance on your face.

The strength of your grip, You took control over me, overpowered and pressed me.

My throat went dry, silencing my voice, I couldn’t scream, I tried and tried but I failed, I begged, pleaded and swore not to tell anyone, But you failed to listen when I said NO, You forced yourself inside me, you really broke me, and you killed me.

Everything was happening so fast, I couldn’t move an inch since I was frozen in fright, I cried, had my tears rolling down my face, Still, that didn’t touch you, you are really an animal.

I cried, I cried louder that heavens could hear me,

But no one came to my rescue, To free me from the monster doing me dirt.

I couldn’t feel my body, I was numb, I could barely walk, you really killed a part of me, Am I to blame? Are my clothes to blame?

No, you are just a pedophile, a murderer amongst rapists.

You didn’t rape my clothes, did you?

You raped me, a human being, you killed a part of me, I’m not the same person anymore and that sinks my heart.

Your face still haunts me, The branded images of that day still reflect in my mind, I see you in every corner, every shadow, I see you in my half dead sleep, You made me suffer in my own body, You don’t deserve the man in you, What did I do to deserve what you did to me?

You murdered my innocence, You took away my pride, Stole the trust I had for the humankind.

My heart sinks as I try to never think of it, As I try to talk about it, As I try to pass this stage, to get a healing, I’m tired of being a slave in my own body, I’m tired of letting my heart sink when I think of this.

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Time Flies Tick-tock, tick-tock.

That’s life counting down your inner clock, Having a lot of lovely and sorry memories if we look back, Looking back only to see what our lives really held, Sometimes we think that time is slow and sometimes it’s fast, Like it never stops but what I know is, time always lasts.

Time really flies like hours in a summer’s night, You wake up every day, leave your bed and stand before the mirror, Only looking at how beautiful your outer being is, But not having a deep conversation within yourself, Arguing about something valuable and more significant, Like how messed up your inner self is.

As seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years pass, As we grow old there’s a lot that we wish for, Things we wish could be returned, How we used to be taught and then forgot, The way we wish we never fought, Yet we hope that they forget us not.

Take a look back and see how everyone has grown, Like a wolf in the wilderness as you stand alone, But your peers all married and by that time perhaps all gone, To better destinations and yourself remaining back home, Reflecting on how you’ve done so much on your own.

You can lose everything, either yourself or mind, But you will never in a single day lose time, People waste time by being mad or sad, But for some, time is what they forever have.

Having the best moments of your life will always be worth it.

Time is wrong twice a day and that’s when you are asleep, But if the time is right, that timing will be perfect.

We waste time feeling sad for things that will eventually pass, We waste time having fun, not realizing that we are running out.

After wasting time we then tend to regret Not having the thought that time wasted is never regained, Just like spilled water on grass, it won’t be useful again.

We waste time hoping that we will have it forever, Not thinking that we will eventually die, leaving it behind, Because time flies and time is eternal.

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She Is Not Single She wants an organic love, A healthy, simple, and natural relationship, A relationship built on devotion, trust and support.

She just wants to be happy.

She wants something that is wholesome, Nutritious, and beneficial to her beautiful soul.

She is an imbokodvo after all, She knows how to stand her ground, Without being shaken by unsteady winds.

She doesn’t want a partner, But a passionate lover, Someone who can be her best friend and a healer.

She is not single but independent, She is picky where she invests her time and heart.

She has been hurt so many times, But now she is strong and a fighter, She battled her pain and won, She is not single and sad.

She was born with a beautiful glow, With her strength, she remains undefeated.

Even when she stumbles, she makes it look like a dance.

She is known to be fragile yet she is powerful.

She is smart, courageous, phenomenal, She is not single, she is just independent and strong.

She knows what she believes in and stands for it.

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I Am Still Caged I still feel like I have been imprisoned, I’m still chained like Django.

My wounds are still gaping, And I hope they heal fast, fast like a racing heart, But I need to be patient.

I need to write my pain out, Transform it to poetry, With my tears and blood, Let it flow to create heart-warming words, To heal those who are heartbroken.

Somethings are better left unsaid, Since what’s unsaid remains unsaid.

Yesterday passed, it gave birth to today, I don’t have to be looking for reasons, Like why is today like this?

I really have to heal, To avoid bleeding on people who never cut me.

I forgave myself last night, I have to recommit today.

Seems like being strong is all I’ve ever known.

As the sun rises, I promise myself to try again, I’m still not complete, I’m still evolving, I trust my process, But being caged drags me back, To jail cells, to the iron chains, With rusty surfaces hard as a witch’s heart.

Am I not kind to my own mind?

I have a lot of regrets, Like why I never started X. Opportunities flashing across my eyes like lightning, And I let them slide through my fingertips just like that.

Nothing hurts more Than a heart left wondering why?

Why didn’t I give it my best shot?

Problem is, I don’t know how to love slowly.

Ask for a single cloud, I will give you the whole sky.

With no rain, flowers are absent, My mind is full of gardens, Blooming like thoughts.

I know that I tasted like forever, Especially in temporary moments.

But sometimes I think, Forever wasn’t meant for humans. Only memories, For people change and get lost, Though memories last a lifetime.

I am still caged, I can still feel the pain on my limbs, Chains locked yet I think I am free.

They try to tear my wings apart, Not knowing that I’m more than a bird.

People are not evil, Evil comes to live within them.

I am still caged, I can feel the internal conflicts, My thoughts are still battling, My mind and heart are still at war, They won’t rest until I start listening to myself, Until I give eternity something to think about.

Time will tell me everything I wish to know, Like why I was caged, Why I fight with my emotions While wearing a calm smile.

While caged and confined, I fell in love with darkness.

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The Remaining Scars of The Past I was not even around but my parents were, I played no part in the struggle but I inherited all the wounds, Now I’m suffering the consequences.

Blood was shed as they fought a beautiful war, A war for a better future, for better education, and for equal rights.

It felt like they were fighting a losing battle, Chanting songs while carrying stones, It felt like they were fighting a losing battle, With firearms shooting at them, Eliminating each of them like they were fictional characters in a video game.

Truth be told, the wounds have not healed, The pain, the bruises, beatings, bitterness, Runs so deep, So deep that it’s hard to let go of the past that I was not even involved in.

It feels like I’m carrying an eternal burden on my shoulders, Which is extremely heavy and impossible to put it down.

They had a bright future before them, They had a dream and a mission, Driven by a vision and a passion.

Dreams brought into reality, they fought for what they believed in, For what would benefit the black child, For what the people were still wishing.

These are the greatest of all times, Greatest of all leaders, Leaders who stood up by example and gambled with their lives.

They influenced the future to be a better place, As they pushed boundaries to create opportunities.

Days, weeks, months, years have passed, but still The scars remain, they have not healed.

The blood shed has dyed the society, Caused a dark shadow which forever clouds our minds.

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X

Md. Anisul HAQUE No other material has such a natural relation with humans like clay. When I first took porcelain into my hands, the idea came so naturally, it called me to focus my work on social issues. I combine my ceramic work with cloth which allows me to have a different texture in my work. The distressed cloth texture expresses the emotional factors of our world, such as racism, third-world country oppression, and feminism. The purpose of my life is to serve humanity, and I believe that artists can awaken mankind against injustice.

Opposite Page: Depression of freedom 12cm x 14cm x 46cm porcelain 2019

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tied up 15cm x 17cm x 58cm stone ware 2018

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A

B

A Doubt to destiny 2 11cm x 10cm x 27cm Porcelain 2019

B unfortunate aspect of humanity 10cm x 25cm x 4cm porcelain 2020 35

Soreness 11cm x 10cm x 25cm stone ware 2018

Distressed clay 30cm x 24cm x 37cm Raku 2019

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The hardships of life 14cm x 6cm x 32cm stoneware 2018

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expectancy 14cm x 14cm x 14cm porcelain 2020

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Doubt to destiny 30cm x 19cm x 40cm porcelain 2019

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Race for survival 11cm x 12cm x 24cm porcelain 2020

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Sonjaye MAURYA My paintings explore the nuances of existence and bring forth the perplexities of life in a manner that provokes thought. Each medium, each technique, gives a different touch, and brings out the type of message that must be conveyed in each piece. I take inspiration from every feeling. My muse is my love for and hope in life.

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Apotheosis

Despair

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Creation of New Life

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From Left to Right: Life Blooming in Lockdown Trapped Sangha On the Path to Wisdom

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Inflorescence of Wisdom

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Freedom Uncaged

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Sanity

Salisalima RATHA Birds symbolize freedom, destination, and focus. Birds fly so high but they know their destination, they are so focused on their target. It is the most beautiful creation of God. Their colorful beauty and musical sounds are reflected in my paintings. For the past few years the population of birds has been declining rapidly. I advocate in my work to save birds and nature.

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Clause of Freedom

Alluring Nature

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Eternal love

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Black beauty 1

flamingo

Elysian 1

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Opposite Page: The Eve VI

Purity 1

Love birds II

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From Left to Right:

The Eve The Eve III The Eve IV

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Radu-Mihai TANASA The predicament we find ourselves in now, since the pandemic started, has undeniably changed our perceptions of time, work, space, and most importantly, ourselves. This series of self-portraits I have made during the lockdown represent a joining of performance art and experimental photography. It is an exploration of both personal body and mind; as the classic perception of time and work warped around me. This series was inspired by the Viennese Actionism movement, and by my fascination with the dark, moody, and ugly. I wanted to deconstruct my sanity, my perception, and my image. Sanity is very precious and it is important to keep healthy in both mind and spirit.

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S.inful A.mused R.ed S.elf

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CIRCUS Laura STOICA I’ve always been interested in the story behind every photo. The thoughts that precede every shot, be they conscious or not. At the moment, I am in a period of transition regarding my artistic path. I always try to accumulate new knowledge, to be in a space of fascination, and sustain the desire to learn more about different techniques.

This series of 5 artworks presents the life of a circus man. Enunciating through Gigi Calapod’s eyes the human feelings that are born from this environment. This series allows outsiders to observe how this circus environment is continuously subjected to a process of homogenization. We find sketches with different exercises, letters sent by different people expressing the appreciation for the show and the performers. There are even codenames that he and his friends shared, all in the name of a good show.

Through Calapod’s photographs, we can imagine a complex life: a life extracted from the social amalgam, a life completely dedicated to profession, a life in which every performer is part of a bigger family.

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ENSEMBLE /K Ensemble/K/ Dance is one of the most moving and ever-changing disciplines. It dares to break its own foundations without ever losing its original essence. Ensemble/K/ creates unaltered shows where the body moves and wanders, building bridges between visual art, writing, and new technology to promote interdisciplinary exploration and innovation. Beyond the artistic direction, Ensemble/K/ aims to support an array of artists and exhibitions in their administration and production. Ensemble/K/ facilitates and provides public access to many kinds of art. The company organizes classes & workshops, performances, festivals, and more to develop more conversations between artists and the public.

Léa Bridarolli / Associate Artistic Director Eneas Vaca Bualo / Associate Artistic Director Email: ensemble.kinetikos@gmail.com Facebook: Ensemble/K/inêtikos Instagram: ensemble.kinetikos

K/INÊTIKOS’ RECIPROCALS RECIPROCALS is a collaboration between Ensemble/K/, Bernard Bousquet, and the fashion brand TOKEN. The collaboration came to life following several performances and spontaneous encounters at Le Générateur, a performing arts space in Gentilly, France.

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Emptiness as a starting point. Bodies attract the attention. They are surrounded by abstract paintings which invite the spectator to get caught in shapes and reliefs, by sounds bringing mobility or immobility. Little by little, interactions start to appear. The conversation takes shape surrounded by music and movement, technique and skills. A product of different arts unveiled itself, a living painting both unique and generous creating reciprocity. Each being, each element, each thing is where it is supposed to be, right here, right now. To exist and be, not pretend. The intention is authentic, the words superficial. Light enhances the evident. It is a trip through sensations and colors, during which skilled and dynamic bodies bring us to this improbable world. A journey created for the present, experienced during a unique and unparalleled moment. As dancers and creators, we created RECIPROCALS to challenge ourselves with the unknown, and create an authentic and spontaneous art coherent with the theme of reciprocity. Each art form feeds itself and is fed by the other. We are looking for the simple and the complex, the absurd and the concrete, the chaotic and the calm. The artistic gesture: ephemeral and permanent. Through improvisation, we look for balance and accuracy in our artistic proposition, the clarity of the movement, the pure move. Searching, discovering, understanding ourselves.

Notes from Bernard Bousquet Reciprocal or reciprocity are terms which immediately convey the notion of relation and exchange.

Instantly, RECIPROCAL is perceived as positive, holding value and meaning. This is also the idea that we all share the same and unique role.

Bernard Bousquet, 2017

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P A R T O N E : L’ a b r i t r o u https://www.vimeo.com/487033683

https://www.vimeo.com/487179898

PART TWO: Catwalk

Artists: Léa Bridarolli / Dancer, Project Manager Eneas Vaca Bualo / Dancer, Project Manager Sijia Chen / Dancer Eléonore Dugué / Dancer Pavel Danko / Dancer Pauline Colemard / Dancer Simone Giancola / Dancer DJ Reïne / Composer, DJ Hernan Crosina / Composer, Live Musician Bernard Bousquet / Visual Artist, Stage Design TOKEN Monde / Costumes Christian Crosina / Stage Direction, Manager Elizabeth Saint Jalmes / Installation L’abri trou 81

Quick Look Komal Karad Broken can be beautiful. How beautiful, clean, and colorful an everyday object is. My artwork can be playful and varied. I try to create a mood through the color and express the emotion. I like the simplicity of drawing but also the accuracy. I have a BFA in Fine Art. Email: karadkomal451995@gmail.com

Shubham Swami

A single painting can hold the entire universe. My paintings unveil the face of society. I use white space to convey the happiness of the world.

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