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all rights reserved to the artists published with permission by Fraud uncredited content is of public copyright Read and Forget Production Creative Director: Erica Lindberg Art Director: Linnea Frank Cover: Linnea Frank


contributing: Elsa ร…grup Gabriella Carlson Dwayne Coleman Linnea Frank Emils Gedrovics Julia Gidlรถw Abigail Jones Erica Lindberg Gordon Leonard Mills


Emils Gedrovics


Abbi Jones


Chameleon fried by the who are you, - a fraud? text by erica lindberg

My name is Erica and I am a fraud. Pause for applauds I am a human being, which makes me a creature both simple and complex beyond understanding. This is not a coincidence; this is how we are made. After birth, it is, almost, (not at all?) completely up to us as individuals to play with that circumstance as a fact. Who we want to be Now tell me… Who do we live for if not for others? We have all seen Into the Wild. No? Well, download it illegally now! (Do not) We feed on the company of others. This is how we grow. Read: intellectually (intermittently around your waist). To illustrate, let us play a scenario game. Scenario #1 – You just love yourself and everything about you, but no one except you can see it. The hatred is spread towards your being as you walk down the street. Scenario #2 – You are what they called “the popular kid in school”, you have always somewhere to be. Not because you want or need to but because others want you there. You are loved in all ways possible, but all you seem able to ask yourself is “Why me?” Who is a winner, who is slaughtered chicken dinner? If you have not heard the expression: you have to love yourself before you can love others, you have read it by now and by now you are flushing it down an imaginary toilet. I can see the reasoning in that ancient saying , and it is not logical.

This is why I think what I think when I think about that saying: Most importantly, I do not believe we as human beings can control our emotions to that extent that we can restrain love towards others before attending extensive therapy in order to ease the pain of the troubled childhood that is strangling us from loving ourselves. Secondly, I believe that there is something called healthy love and something called unhealthy love, both are equally much love. What is healthy and not I leave undefined. Conclusion: There are reasons for broken hearts beyond unanswered love notes. To love yourself is a bonus, not a necessity. To be loved by others is not a necessity but it sure make things easier. We want life to be easy; it is just easiest that way. To make things easy things become complicated. Ultimately, the question is not formulated as love or not love, it is about to be seen or not seen. If we are not seen, how can we be sure we exist? Since there is no such thing as a general perfect, we create ourselves with pieces from our individual idea of perfection. The result is never satisfactory enough. This is my problem. I want not only to be my own very best; I also want to be everyone else’s best and my own very best is measured in how many everyone else’s best I can be. This is impossible to calculate, so please listen to my advice: Do NOT try this at home or smoke will come out of your ears in no time. No one wants to have chimney-ears. This is all very limiting. I am not a jumper and I can only be in one place, doing one thing at a time. What I want is to be everywhere doing everything, how can I be so poorly made!? Unwillingly, but still accepting my destiny with all the boundaries it means to be a human being, I tend to change colour depending on my surroundings in order to be seen as I want to be seen: my own very best. “I can be whatever you want me to be” I whisper, but


sun

everything within reason of course. It is all about highlighting specific qualities. If you want me to be a woo-girl, I am. If you want me to be a radical feminist, I am. Simple and easy. NO. Worst-case scenario accidentally happens once a year, my birthday. You might think that the problem is a non-issue and solvable simply trough not making an event on Facebook and just not have a birthday party. Now tell me again, who wants to be THAT person who is not throwing any celebration? It is not going to be me. Whatever I am, I am not boring: Okay. Whoever your friends are, wherever they come from, no one wants to be boring. So, the key to salvation is how/when/where you celebrate. As I have friends with different backgrounds etc. (my desperate try to be all over the place) it is impossible for me to throw a party with everyone’s favourite cup of tea, some of them do not even like tea (!) and as I do not want to point out my diversion in my being I basically have to choose. Last years solution gave an incredible outcome. The one thing that creates gaps between people more sufficiently than anything else is money. Sadly you might say, but still, oh so true. When a game involves money it is easy to smell the ugliness, no matter amount or level of importance. I never said I was beautiful, but I can with certainty tell you that my inside is greasy, bloody and full of intestines rapped up together, just like yours. So, I merely picked a restaurant I knew very few of my friends could afford and made a reservation for 45 people. A fifth of my circle showed up. A frustrated group of waiters, but my image intact. There is a delicate line to be aware of. That is where my own strive crosses someone else’s. All I can do is make the most of what I have without hurting. If I want to keep antagonists to a minimum, I should stay out of hurt. Willingness is a dangerous thing and the secret is unsympathetically enough, to realize that your mental activity is no greater than

any other mind. The difference is made as we choose how to use our abilities. This is no wrong, only exceptional. Because as strongly we are connected and how equal we may ever be, we are still individuals in a crowd. What a spotlight does is light up a very specific area and outside the lines of the spotlight there is supposed to be darkness. The spotlight is not meant to be for everyone and therefore creates a constant huffing and buffing among us, created by greed. As the chameleon wanders trough its surroundings unseen, it is matching, always watching. A part of it all. I wish there was more room but my ego among others are flooding the planet, not matching, not at all. I am a chameleon fried by the need to constantly stay in the spotlight, forcing myself against my true habitat. I still call it survival. My name is Erica and I am a fraud.


Gabriella Carlson


Gordon Leonard Mills


Elsa Ă…grup


Julia Gidlรถw


Dwayne Coleman


1.

Description of a morning selfie before work Abigail Jones

I wear my new favourite cobalt blue shirt that makes me think of a painter’s shirt. It’s got a narrow collar, long sleeves, front button fastenings, two f lap pockets and it’s overall shape is like a wide-cut A. It could be something like what Van Gogh might have worn when painting sunf lowers. With that in mind I go over to where the window is with the ledge with numerous unlit candles – it’s morning – and a vase of dying dahlias, their petals turning a yellowy brown at the ends. With my phone I take a selfie using the front camera. Not my whole face or anything like that. The sunlight was streaming in as my bedroom windows face east. It was catching the blonde strands in my hair and really illuminating them. So I had my blue shirt, the wilting dahlias and my lips and hair in shot. Oh, also the ref lection in the glass – because of the way the windows are set up with criss-cross metal framework and double glazing – what was I saying… oh yes, the ref lection. So I had my blue shirt, the wilting dahlias behind my hair, and me, their ref lection in the criss-cross double-glazing, and my lips in shot. Oh, and then not to forget, with my upper body, in


Linnea Frank


before work. I wear my new favourite cobalt blue shirt that makes me think of a painter’s shirt. It’s got a narrow collar, long sleeves, front button fastenings, two flap pockets and it’s overall shape is like a wide-cut A. It could be something like what Van Gogh might have worn when painting sunflowers. With that in mind I go over to where the window is with the ledge with numerous unlit candles – it’s morning – and a vase of dying dahlias, their petals turning a yellowy brown at the ends. With my phone I take a selfie using the front camera. Not my whole face or anything like that. The sunlight was streaming in as my bedroom windows face east. It was catching the blonde strands in my hair and really illuminating them. So I had my blue shirt, the wilting dahlias and my lips and hair in shot. Oh, also the reflection in the glass – because of the way the windows are set up with criss-cross metal framework and double glazing – what was I saying… oh yes, the reflection. So I had my blue shirt, the wilting dahlias behind my hair, and me, their reflection in the criss-cross double-glazing, and my lips in shot. Oh, and then not to forget, with my upper body, in the blue shirt, the sunlight coming through the criss-cross windows was hitting my 35 degree angle, this was to get the dahlias in shot nicely behind me with my hair illuminated enough at the same time. So the sunlight coming through the criss-cross framework inside the glass windows printed a shadow of criss-cross framing over my cobalt blue shirt. What I remember from the picture was my blue shirt with the projected criss-cross shadow, the wilting brownish dahlias behind me on the ledge, their reflection in the criss-cross double-glazing, and my lips and hair in shot.


II.

F l i p p i n g i t o v e r a n d o v e r


, a n d o v e r a g a i n .

Flipping it over and over, and over again. The flip being a full 180° As in, if it were a coin, it would be flipped from heads to tails – three or four times until the whole pillow fits into the material cover. H – T – H – T…and so on. Pushing it in a little further each time. Flipping it over after each push to distribute the feathers that bunch on one side because of the directed push to get it into the cover.


Flipping it over each time, like a coin. And with each push and flip, the two ends – furthest away from one’s hands – gets closer to the two ends – also furthest away from the hands – to meeting, so that the pillow cover nicely covers the whole of the pillow with the flip distributing the feathers, evenly.


FRAUD MAGAZINE #1  

The first issue of FRAUD Magazine, an independent London-based art journal for young creators.