Issue 17: Home - Vol. 1 by Polemical Zine

BIACNA I LILIAN SIM I TORONTO I @THIRDBOREDOM I LILNAA.COM

For anyone who needs a home.

COVER: BIACNA

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Rebecca McLaren | @babygotbecs

SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER

Emily Callahan | @em_callahan

MARKETING MANAGER

POLEMICAL ZINE I ISSUE 17: HOME V1

MEET THE TEAM

MANAGEMENT

Nina Stoiber | @ninastoibs

DESIGN & ILLUSTRATION SENIOR TEAM

Andrea Valdivia | @nea.au

Jae Xin | @jae__xin Dina Baxevanakis | @dinadraws36

JUNIOR TEAM

Layan Dajani | @in_an_alternate_universe_

Maggie Rose | @maggierosecashman Danni Wright | @ladyshipcannabis Alessandra Crupi | @allycrupi @designbyinternos

Ingrid Zijlema | @ingridzijlema

Nathalia García | @naths.jpg Celeste Alvarez | @itsscelestee

O at H

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DEAR READER I REBECCA MCLAREN I TORONTO, CANADA I @BABYGOTBECS

DEAR READER

When you picked up this issue, did you think of a solid, brick house? A cozy apartment nestled in s new skyscraper? A sleeping bag strown on sidewalks? A car that just can’t keep warm? A weatherremoved from a nearby park?

Did you think of the country where you were born? The country where you were reborn? A city? A you could identify on a map, if you tried?

Or did you think of someone’s arms? Someone’s laugh? Your family? Your chosen family? The bod bodies that carry you? The world? Or the whole damn universe? Did you think of your childhood or did you think of your now? And did you think of a house or of a home?

2021 was a difficult year for many. Stay-at-home orders and resulting loneliness redefined our spac and how we felt about them.

To the artists, thank you for (metaphorically) welcoming us into your homes during this period of is good, the bad, and the ugly. For reminding us of what our homes were and what they will one day Thank you for proving you don’t always need to leave the house to go on an adventure. Much love xoxo

suburban streets? A shiny, -beaten tent forcefully

UNIVERSITY HOME I MCLARENREBECCA.WIXSITE.COM/PORTFOLIO

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TABLE OF CONTENTS 8

VISUAL ART BIACNA, LILIAN SIM…COVER, 2 THREE CHORDS AND THE TRUTH, LEXICON LOVE…12 ALL I KNOW IS THAT I KNOW NOTHING, LEXICON LOVE…13 FAMILIAR DREAMS, AYESHA NAEEM…14 WHAT I REMEMBER, AYESHA NAEEM…15 ESCALERA, DANIELA OLIVIA…16 RECÁMARA, DANIELA OLIVIA…17 UNTITLED, DINA BAXEVANAKIS…18 EVERYTHING IS GROSS, PHOEBE WARD…32-35 WHERE IS HOME, YOUDE…44-49 GOTTA WALK AWAY CAN’T STAND YOU, LEXICON LOVE…50 WHO LET THEM INSIDE, LEXICON LOVE…51 THE LIST, ANNA ONNI…53-57 WELCOME, MERAKI…58-59 HOUSE IN ZAZA, INFRAESTUDIO…60-61 INVASION, LUCY WINNICOTT…62-65 THE KITCHEN DOOR, RONA BEHAR KARP…68 THROUGH THE DINING ROOM, RONA BEHAR KARP…69 TAKEOFFYOURSHOESDON’TLETTHECATOUTHERE’SSOMEWINE,

MELISSA GIAMPIETRO…70-71

DOYOUEVERJUST…,MARISSA GIAMPIETRO…72-73 CAMPING, WHERE NEXT?, JEMIMA GOODSON…78

WHAT QUEER PLACE HAVE WE BEEN ABANDONED TO?, JEMIMA GOODSO STAYING FOR A NIGHT…?, JEMIMA GOODSON…79 ALL PACKED BUT NOWHERE TO GO., JEMIMA GOODSON…79 TRANSFORMATION, THERESA KOHLBECK JAKOBSEN…81

ON…79

THE THINGS FROM THE YARD, CASSIDY ARGO…82 EVIL SISTERS, CASSIDY ARGO…83 FIELDS OF GOLD, URMILA MENON…84-85 CROPPED SELF-PORTRAIT SERIES (2021), JEMMA HARVEY…86 SELF-PORTRAITS IN SPACE (2021), JEMMA HARVEY…87 WEST VIRGINIA, EMILY KENNEY…90 BIG SUR, EMILY KENNEY…91 ICK HAB’ NOCH EINEN KOFFER IN BERLIN. (I STILL HAVE A SUITCASE IN BERLIN.), LACUNA…92-93 DREAMING OF HOME 1, NOUSHIN DELFANI…104 DREAMING OF HOME 2, NOUSHIN DELFANI…105 LFO_RETRIG, AHMAD RIFQI ARDIAN…120 JOKER 4, AHMAD RIFQI ADRIAN…121 THE THINGS THAT WERE HARD TO REMEMBER, TYLER YOUNG…124-125 FLINTSTONES, CODY CUPMAN…126 NOT HOME, CODY CUPMAN…127 INTERIOR WITH FLORAL ARRANGEMENT (PINK), LAILA MARIE COSTA…128 INTERIOR WITH FLORAL ARRANGEMENT (GREEN), LAILA MARIE COSTA…129 HYGIENIC CHESS, RAYDEN LAWRENCE…130-131 HERITAGE, AMNNA ATTIA…132-135 COVER WORLDS, KRISTINA MICHALSKI…136-141 INHERITANCE, MARCUS BROTHERSBY…144 SOLO DANCE PARTY, MARCUS BROTHERSBY…145 FEELS LIKE HOME, ROSE SILBERMAN-GORN…154-155 MAGICAL SOUTHERN HOME., SOLLARE ART PRINTS…157 TWO UNKNOWN PEOPLE, NATHALIA GARCÍA…158 JUST A FRIEND, JOCELYN WONG…159 MINIATURE DOLLHOUSE JEWELRY COLLECTION, PASTRY PLUG…162-165 9

WRITING/POETRY DEAR READER, REBECCA MCLAREN…6 THE PICTURE THAT GROUNDS ME, STEPHANIE LI…19 WHERE IS HOME, YOUDE…47 THE LIST, ANNA ONNI…52-56 HOUSE TOUR, LEX OWENS…74-75 QUEER GLOBALIZATION, THERESA KOHLBECK JAKOBSEN…80 HOME, CALEB STAPLES…123 MAGICAL SOUTHERN HOME., SOLLARE ART PRINTS…156 JUST A FRIEND., JOCELYN WONG…158-159 AFGHAN DREAMING, MURSAL KHAROTI…161

PHOTOGRAPHY UNIVERSITY HOME, REBECCA MCLAREN…7 TRULY HOME, AMRYN SHAE…20-31 RETRATOS CASEROS, AINA DIAGO…36-39 MARKINGS: HOME FROM MEMORY - HOME FROM MONGOLIA, AKMAR…40-43 MACHINE WORLDS, BRIAN MICHAEL BARBEITO…66-67 UNTITLED, ELIZABETH CASASOLA…74 UNTITLED, ELIZABETH CASASOLA…76-77 SOLITUDE, JESSICA SWANK…88 RESTRICTED, JESSICA SWANK…89 TALES OF LA ISLA BONITA, SEIGAR…94-103 LOVE FROM HOME, SYDNEY CASSIDY…106-119 UNTITLED, SAMANTHA BRINKLEY…122 10

PHOTOGRAPHY CONT. UNTITLED, SAMANTHA BRINKLEY…122 HOME 1, SERGIO DE LA TORRE…142 HOME 2, SERGIO DE LA TORRE…143 TELL ME, HOW WAS YOUR DAY? FRAGMENTS OF A TRAPPED SOUL

(2020-2021), ANA LOUREIRO…146-153

RANTRE, RAD, STEVEN BABOUN…160-161

ESCALERA

DESIETEACINCO.COM

ESPACIOS INTERMITENTES, (2020) I DANIELA OLIVA I CUERNAVACA, MEXICO I @THEDANEEI @DESIETEACINCO

RECÁMARA

TRULY HOME I AMRYN SHAE I ST. CATHARINES, ONTARIO I @AMRYNSHAE

TRULY HOME I AMRYN SHAE I ST. CATHARINES, ONTARIO I @AMRYNSHA

TRULY HOME I AMRYN SHAE I ST. CATHARINES, ONTARIO I @AMRYNSHAE

PORTFOLIO

EVERYTHING IS GROSS I PHOEBE WARD I NORTHFIELD, MN, USA I @PHOEBECOMIX

PORTFOLIO

EVERYTHING IS GROSS I PHOEBE WARD I NORTHFIELD, MN, USA I @PHOEBECOMIX

MARKINGS: HOME FROM MEMORY – HOME FROM MONGOLIA I AKMAR I AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS

@___AKMAR___ I AKMAR.NL

Akmar made a diptych on the steppe of Mongolia. Both works consist of 300 marking flags of 80 cm high. A marking flag has a dual meaning, it can mark something that happened in the past (here it happened) and mark something of what is to come (here it will happen). The work Home from Memory is located on a mountain hill. From here you can overlook the valley, the endless landscape of Mongolia. In this emptiness the artist wanted to test her memory. She redefined the floor plan of the house in which she grew up. In her memory the place seems to be close in reality Akmar has not been there for more than 15 years. The expanded floor plan, with only her body as a measuring instrument, appeared to be similar in shape to the original house. The surface, on the other hand, had become more than twice as large. In the installation of Home from Memory Akmar led several visitors around. This role was ambivalent; did she speak here as someone who had knowledge of a house

MARKINGS: HOME FROM MEMORY – HOME FROM MONGOLIA I AKMAR I AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS 42

from the past or had she become a broker who showed the place of a new house to be built. In Home from Mongolia, the artist placed the 300 flags in a circle with a diameter of 30 meters. The installation lay in the lee of a mountain, a protective spot. A visiting Mongolian on his motorbike asked what the flags meant on this spot. He did not wait for the answer of the artist but answered his question himself: “The circle is an important form

for Mongolia. Everything is round: the seasons, the earth. I think it’s a holy place. But it can also be the place where the great Yurt of Genghis Khan stood.” The diptych was part of the LAM 360° in 2018. LAM 360° (Land Art Mongolia) is a biennial art festival located in Mongolia. LAM focuses on Land Art as a form of spatial visualization of the relations between nature, culture and social policies.

@___AKMAR___ I AKMAR.NL

AKMAR's work is multidisciplinary from video (computer generated) to physical sculpture. Common ground is the question ; What is reality? By adding time, this concept always gets a different outcome. The answer is diffuse and lies hidden in different materials and methods. That explains the diversity of my practice.

WHERE IS HOME I YOUDE I BERLIN, GERMANY I @MAXIDOUYE

@MAXIDOUYE

WHERE IS HOME I YOUDE I BERLIN, GERMANY

WHERE IS HOME I YOUDE I BERLIN, GERMANY I @MAXIDOUYE

THE LIST | ANNA ONNI | SINGAPORE | @ANNAONNI | ONNISCIENT.WIXSITE.COM/ANNAONNI

THE LIST

1. I used to roll out the giant paper sheets so that I could use chalk to trace your outline. You lay there laug as I scrawled all over you. On some days I would pin them up against the wall, a giant crime scene inves tion artefact which I would cordon off with police tape that a friend gave me as a gag gift. You thought i a little creepy. I smiled. Then a few days after you left and I started missing you enough, that life-sized fi of you was taken down so that I could fill it in. Fill it in with the textures of skin and clothes, whatever I ca remember – or believe I can remember. I’m comfortable with this presence of you, this proof of what I o knew and still know. I sometimes prop it up in where you used to sit hunched over in your chair at the di table gazing into the void of the world that we both felt between ourselves and other people. But most was the absence of what we felt between ourselves. There’s no need for company sometimes. It is not lo ness. Just alone time. And it is gone too fast sometimes when I am just watching a movie or cooking a m forget to just be by myself. So I force myself to be somewhat productive, half-convinced that making a r of filling in this chalk outline will conjure up some miracle. That relationship I have with you and your out a delicate balance, an inverted reality of ourselves. I refuse to throw it away.

2. Do you still wake up before your alarm clock rings? In those pale moments of morning do you ever wish someone was there for you to observe? To recognise that breathing of innocent sleep, before the day h started its machinations in the brain. This person would have been a hindrance to you all through the la evening and through the night. Tossing and turning and stealing the blankets. You used to desire eterna for lounging on deck chairs and the scented sweatiness of noontime siestas. But these daydreams of ho get monotonous. Wrapped up in each other the motions lose the taut tension of the first try. Because o imagination, entire lives have been lived with this person. You’ve seen this someone’s best and worst sid the thrilling newness and the mundane horrors of domesticity. You always wonder about the what ifs. If had the conventional marriage. If you had a child, two children, three, four. If you had died young and le everyone else behind. If the person breathing so close to you smelt differently and made your pheromo clench rather than relax. If you had only been a peripheral addition to this person’s life. It is a child’s slat scrawled over with tired profanities finally wiped clean in these vague seconds before the brain clicks in needs some time to remember. You hope that this person’s dreams are free of all thoughts and cares of daily grind. That means that they are free of you, if only for a few brief moments of respite. Or perhaps y worth of time acted out in those plodding seconds between deep sleep and full waking. It stings a little know that you aren’t there, an illusion in that space to romp and escape. It stings just a little to know tha would like an escape from the body lying next to you. But now you are alone when you wake up. Delicio free of these concerns until you think of them. Do you stay in bed unable to get up thirty seven minutes you were supposed to hustle yourself out the door into your shoes and onto the street? It is mainly beca you can’t bear to face the day yet. I know your weaknesses. I know you so well that you wanted to take b the imprints you made in my daily rhythms, knowing too well that I had taught myself to curl up quietly t your needs.

3. I was supposed to send you an email resigning from our relationship but I never got round to doing it. I crastinated for weeks and then we had a meal at our favourite Mexican restaurant before you had to fly again for work and I said that I thought we could really make it for the long run. Then just before you bo the plane you sent me a text that said: “I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving.”

4. With previous generations, our neurosis was more carefully contained and packaged into alcoholism, d cheating, gambling, and some socially tolerated forms of violence. Nowadays I don’t think anyone reall knows when a life-improving habit becomes an soul-numbing addiction. Every single item of consumer sustenance is churned through the industrial feed mixer so that everyone has to eat the same thing eve

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THE LIST | ANNA ONNI | SINGAPORE | @ANNAONNI | ONNISCIENT.WIXSITE.COM/ANNAONNI 54

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on’t genuinely like the taste. I miss the family photo lbum of my once-upon-a-time-would-be-in-laws where your most embarrassing moments in the potty nd bathtub were recorded for me to giggle and ease you tenderly. You never got round to coming with me to meet my parents. I’m grateful that you ever did.

planned your murder today. I would send you two ickets for the Maldives saying that I purchased it before you left and that I was in no mood to go. hen you would meet the diving instructors on the beach and they would give you two extra hours free you just paid for one. They were really friendly and eemed like great guys because I had paid them to be that way. You will die by a rigged oxygen tank which had been emptied out to a ten minute duraion for a thirty minute dive. Once you start to feel our lungs constricting it will be too late to swim up nd back to shore. No one would ever need to know. My only regret will be that you can’t draw a chalk outline in water.

ust kidding. I think. If I ever let you into my life once more…not likely though. I am very happy with the et-up I’ve made for myself. At least I know this is my ontingency plan for when you ever decide to come back and go away again.

wake up in the middle of the night to make a giant pan of paella for both of us to share. I use up my whole stockpile of semi-fresh vegetables and seaood in the fridge. I use up all the saffron and paprika nd cloves and cayenne pepper that remained in my pantry. I want this paella to be like the ever-flowing porridge pot because I’ve forgotten the word to alt it. The great river of paella would overflow from he pan and dibble tomatoes and capsicums and hellfish down the kitchen counter, across the floor nd through the corridor and out the front door, I would just need to keep stirring, stirring, stirring, the great big pan of paella. Everyone would be able to coop their portions from the emerging mound of paella outside my door, and my home would remain little spring from which food will feed and nourish thriving community. I hope the savoury smells of my paella will force all my neighbours to curiously tep into the hallway. On normal days we awkwardly brush past each other and retreat into our little cells. wonder if this bountiful serving out of paella counts s a neighbourly gesture. I hope none of them are llergic to shellfish. Perhaps I should have made a egan paella. Oh well.

8. Looking for UFOs in the night sky, we used to sit out on our balcony in the garden swing chair that you never really liked. I am with Gideon now. He loves lying down in my lap as I rock us back and forth, stroking his soft fur. I named him after my friend found a beautiful white stray that was close to starvation and had a heavily burnt tail from some horrible past owner. Now I own this unabashedly fat cat with an amputated tail. I have started to walk around the house with a leash because both he and I need to not sit down and eat all day. He likes to stare up at the sky, and sometimes his paw will tentatively try to touch a tiny star so many, many, many, miles away. Sometimes he tries to kiss me. He is rather affectionate. Last week the field next to my flat became the meeting point for drone enthusiasts and they started to bring in their buzzing devices that made the stars look even smaller. Gideon is fascinated with these UFOs. I stop whatever I am doing to accompany him on the balcony, gazing at the bright lights.

9. I need to buy some noise cancelling headphones. The upstairs neighbour has taken up a new hobby of drilling holes into walls and the downstairs neighbour has a son who has just started learning the violin. Sometimes I shuffle around the flat wondering why tiles feel misaligned and stains in the ceilings only appeared after you left. I am irritated by how these peripheral details to how much I love my home are so capable of interrupting my thoughts. I cut myself on the tile which juts out just a bit from the shower wall. The water flushed out the grit from the wound and I was tempted to make the wound deeper so that I could see it all wash out and swirl down into the drainpipe. Well-meaning friends and family members tell me that I’m too sensitive and should learn to care less. What I really want to do is pack myself and all my possessions up into a tiny little box and be forgotten. Let everyone forget me Let me forget myself.

10.For a while I try to do just that. I try to figure out what really sparks joy for me in my living space. I start with my clothes. That is the easiest to cull. I pack up all your leftover books into a box and donate them to the nearest charity shop. I miss some of these books already, the traces of your voice reading aloud passages to me is now blurred into sickly-sweet nothings. I turn to my overflowing supply of kitchen utensils. I throw out the paella pan. I am driven to distraction when I realise I actually feel burdened by the weight of all this stuff accumulated over the years of shared living spaces and growing up in this city. I spend a sleepless week pacing the streets after midnight. I imagine that I am only beholden to myself, that I own nothing more than the clothes I am wearing, and that I can easily find a way to slip away into the night and never need to pay taxes again. 11. I try caring less. I wind up being careless and letting an egg slip and fall from my hands. It smashes on the floor. Gideon creeps curiously into the kitchen and starts to lick at the yolk. I need exactly four eggs for the recipe and now I only have three. I can’t put the egg and all its cat smeared yolk back together again. I regret having made that oh so delicious omelette for breakfast. It is too comfortable in my pyjamas to go out and get more eggs and I have the other three eggs waiting to be made into curd. I count them out as I break each of them, trying not to let the shell fragments fall in. I hope each of the eggs are somewhat bigger than what the recipe calls for, to make up for that missing counterpart. I let Gideon clean up some of the mess for me but he decides to stick his paws into the whites and yellows and mixing them together. He figures I am too boring and marches off to pad around the living room with his new found painting materials. After putting my botched up recipe into the oven I get down on my knees and scrub away the dried up bits of egg that have rapidly fused to the floor. Gideon is scratching the balcony’s glass sliding door, adding to the claw marks etched into it. I am mad at him so I sat near the warmth of the oven as I pray for my life to turn out alright, watching the oven like a fireplace. Gideon returns to join me. I let him crawl into my lap. As a peace offering he brings me his raggedy mouse toy. The lemon curd tart is citrusy and sweet and just shy of being stingingly sour. You wouldn’t have approved of the taste, it was always a little too sweet for you every time I baked. I take another forkful. It tastes pretty darn good.

THE LIST | ANNA ONNI | SINGAPORE | @ANNAONNI | ONNISCIENT.WIXSITE.COM/ANNAONNI

y d e

d . y .

Anna Onni’s life goals include organising a free gathering of folks for art jamming, making art from dumpster diving finds, and starting a sincerely ironic meditation podcast. Her work can be found in The Singapore War Crimes Trials Project, The Birthday Book (2020), and literary anthologies Food Republic (2020) and Singapore at Home: Life across Lines (2021). She is currently working on expanding The Book of Sainted Aunts: The Illustrated Portraits of Mildly Martyred Sinners-Turned-Saints Since Queerdom Come that was published for this year’s Southeast Asian Queer Cultural Festival.

WELCOME I MERAKI I PEREIRA, COLOMBIA I @MERAKI4JPG

MURSALSBLOG.BLOGSPOT.COM

HOUSE IN ZAZA I INFRAESTUDIO I ZAZA DEL MEDIO, CUBA I @INFRA_ESTUDIO I INFRAESTUDIO.COM 60

The gap produced between perception and function of the house, as applicable, gives the space the freedom of not having to be framed under any dogma, while the basic functions of a home continue to be carried out. We want to create a found ruin: the shortest distance between the dissolution of the home and the conquest of the countryside. A really thin house.

INVASION

“Invasion explores the humorous and overwhelmingness of squishy forms present in my house during lockdown; the notion that they have been transformed into autonomous beings taking over the space, creating an otherworldly environment in the depths of the home in a squishy and absurd way” 62

INVASION I LUCY WINNICOTT I SURREY, UK I @LUCYWINNICOTTART I LUCYWINNICOTT.WIXSITE.COM/ARTWORK

MOSAICS, JOURNEYS THROUGH LANDSCAPES URBAN AND RURAL | BRIAN MICHAEL BARBEITO | ONTARIO, CANADA

machine worlds 67

THE KITCHEN DOOR I RONA BEHAR KARP

Rona Behar Karp is a trained architect who has shifted into art, depicting her everyday surroundings with an eye for detail, which can be a challenge when using soft colored pencils! These drawings depict her 1923 historic home in Los Angeles.

THROUGH THE DINING ROOM I RONA BEHAR KARP I LOS ANGELES, USA I @RONA_KARP_ART

TAKEOFFYOURSHOESDON’TLETTHECATOUTHERE’SSOMEWINE I MARISSA GIAMPIETRO I BURLINGTON, VT, USA

@RISS.326 I MARISSAGIAMPIETRO.COM

DOYOUEVERJUST... I MARISSA GIAMPIETRO I BURLINGTON, VT, USA I @RISS.326 I MARISSAGIAMPIETRO.COM

UNTITLED I ELIZABETH CASASOLA I MEXICO I @ELIIIICASASOLA

HOUSE TOUR I LEX OWENS I BROOKLYN, NEW YORK I @LEXUHPRO__

UNTITLED I ELIZABETH CASASOLA I MEXICO I @ELIIIICASASOLA

REFLECTION ON THE PAST I JEMIMA GOODSON I SAN DIEGO, CA USA I @JEMIMA GOODSON

REFLECTION ON THE PAST Growing up in a displaced missionary family of 9 the concept of home was narrow and broad at the same time. Home was where we slept for the night or the whole country I was born in. As I get older the idea of home has become more a question than a place. A home is a place of comfort, value, and identity but is this constrained to a physical framework or does it even exist?

What q 30 x 36 Oil/ Wa

Camping, Where Next? 30 x 36. Oil/ Water Color. 78

queer place have we been abandoned to? 6. ater Color.

All Packed but Nowhere to Go. 30 x 36. Oil/ Water Color.

Staying for a Night...? 30 x 36. Oil/ Water Color. 79

QUEER GLOBALIZATION I THERESA KOHLBECK JAKOBSEN

People say it’s where the heart is, but my heart is everywhere My heart lives in many places, many buildings People call it the center of their lifes, but my life is everywhere My life happens along the sidewalks, along borders People feel warm and safe when they are there, but I feel safe everywhere My feelings are transcendental, living outer space I don’t understand the concept I don’t understand the notion I don’t understand the people People connect there with their families, but my family is everyone My family is different, queer and unrelated People get their children there, but my child is everyone My child is whoever I feel responsible for, mostly animals People gather their close friends in this place, but my friend is everyone My friend is whoever wants it to be, diverse and disabled I want to create a new concept I want to create a new notion I want to be part of a new people A new home. Tórshavn, June 2021 Theresa Kohlbeck Jakobsen

TRANSFORMATION I THERESA KOHLBECK JAKOBSEN I TÓRSHAVN, FAROE ISLANDS I @PINKUDREYMA.WELT PINKUDREYMA.WELT.COM

THE THINGS FROM THE YARD I CASSIDY ARGO I RHODE ISLAND, UNITED STATES I @CASSIDY.ARGO

EVIL SISTERS I CASSIDY ARGO

CASSIDYARGO.COM

FIELDS OF GOLD I URMILA MENON IHONG KONG I @URMIMENON

My work for the past 5 years has been a series of expressions, oscillating in between reality and imagination using diverse mediums. I use my art as a more personal way of journaling my experiences. I turn everyday visuals, feelings into art using my lines, colors, and words. During the unfortunate time of this pandemic, I used my art as an inward journey to salvage my mental health. All of my work has a story to tell, ready to be heard. I use both traditional and digital mediums to create my work. I have always expressed the current phase of life I am in, the surroundings that influence it, and my experiences all along the long and neverending journey of a self-taught artist. I create because of this uncontrollable urge to express something that has caught my eye, an unforgettable memory, or an indelible feeling. I create so that people know that there is so much beauty around and in us, all we need to do is look. I create to touch and share those emotions that get lost in this volatile digital age where feelings have the fastest expiry date. Through my art I want people to feel the emotions that they have stashed up. I want them to experience places in ways they could imagine. I want my art to be an escape from the daily structure and routine. My art would teleport them from their childhood to their innermost desires, to their darkest thoughts and yet all of them would coexist in a colorful tapestry. I admire artists like Jean Michel Basquiat who used their art to explore the rampant issues that exist like undercurrents or artists like Jackson Pollock who revolutionized the approach to creating art. Being a person of color, art has been my way of gaining acceptance in a foreign land. Art transcends all barriers. My art always has a

play of the most unlikely colors coexisting in visual harmony. Through my art, I also want to convey that even as people, all colors can coexist and thus transcend all kinds of mental boundaries. I try to use my art as a medium to spread awareness, empathy and bring people together. Recently, I did a fundraiser to help the Covid situation in India. 100% of the proceeds were given to an NGO in India. South China Morning Post did a print and video feature about it. My artwork was also chosen for a fundraiser for Haw Par Mansion, one of the few surviving specimens of the Chinese Eclectic style architecture in Hong Kong, and an invaluable heritage site. It managed to contribute a generous amount to the foundation. My recent submission was selected to be featured in Zanna, a UK- based art magazine, as the cover story. Currently, I am working on a series ‘How do you feel today?’ In this age and time, we realize something is not right with us when we reach the end of the cliff. Little do we realize that it’s a systematic downturn that we ignore on a regular basis. This series is to create awareness about checking in with ourselves. This is my effort to use my art as therapy to open up a dialogue about mental health during these difficult times. Some of these works were selected to be displayed at the Wall of Fame as a part of the disCONNECT exhibition by HKWALLS and Schoeni Projects in London. I want to be a living example of the fact that anyone with passion can create art, that is for everyone and is everywhere. I want to create, collaborate, and unite people with art.

Fields have been an integral part of where I have come from. Be it going to our fields with my grandfather, listening to his stories, to rice fields anywhere in the world reminding me of home. These white birds have also been a constant in all my memories of a field. And not to mention the dramatic views of the sky which always proves that nature is the best artist of all times. This is the view I wake up to whenever I am home, whenever I think of my childhood and these are also the colors of my mom’s saree (traditional Indian attire) which is my favorite. This view is a tapestry of feelings that I hold close to my heart. I never took this view for granted ever, but I know more than ever that this is what will always feel like home no matter where I go.

ICK HAB’ NOCH EINEN KOFFER IN BERLIN I LACUNA I BERLIN, GERMANY I @LACUNA.STREETART

(I STILL HAV’ A SUITCASE IN BERLIN.) The sculpture is based on Marlene Dietrich's (1901 - 1992) song "Ich hab' noch einen Koffer in Berlin" from 1951. During the Nazi-regime in Germany, Marlene rejected to support the Nazi propaganda and became a citizen of the United States.

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Tales oF La Isla Bonita

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This is a set of street photography taken in La Palma. This Canary island is called La Isla Bonita like Madonna’s song. This is also the place I feel I belong to, where I was brought up and I have some of the best memories of my life. The photographs show my main visual fetishes: my plastic people, reflections, shadows, details, religious icons, and blue saturated colors. Based in Tenerife, missing London, and with the traveling restrictions, I have luckily been able to visit other islands. It has been a relief to find my shelter back home and to remember the beauty of La Isla Bonita.

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Seigar is a passionate travel, street, social-documentary, conceptual, and pop visual artist based in Tenerife, Spain. He feels obsessed with the pop culture that he shows in his works. He is a fetishist for reflections, saturated colors, curious finds, and religious icons. He has explored photography, video art, and collage. He also writes for some media. His main inspirations are traveling and people. His aim as an artist is to tell tales with his camera, creating a continuous storyline from his trips, encounters, and experiences. His most ambitious projects so far are his Plastic People, a study on anthropology and sociology that focuses on the humanization of the mannequins he finds in the shop windows all over

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a philologist and also works as a secondary school teacher. He is a self-taught visual artist, though he has done a two-year course in advanced photography and one in cinema and television. He has participated in several exhibitions and his works have been featured in many publications. He has collaborated with different media such as VICE and WAG1. He writes for Dodho, The Cultural,

TALES OF LA ISLA BONITA I SEIGAR I SPAIN I @JSEIGAR I SEIGAR.WORDPRESS.COM/

the world, and his Tales of a City, an ongoing urban photo-narrative project taken in London. He is

Red Hot Monde, Intra Mag, and Memoir Mixtapes about pop culture. Lately, he has experimented deeply with video forms. His last interest is documenting identity. Recently, he received the Rafael Ramos García International Photography Award.

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‘Love From Home’ is the name of my graduate collection. This project is a reflection on how my home has influenced me as the person I am today and how the spaces we inhabit can provide us with such a deep sense of security. I was really interested in the idea of safe havens and observing small details about my home that I otherwise would have overlooked had I not spent so much time there – which influenced the textures and colour palette. During lockdown my world was reduced to the four walls of my home and the fields I’d walk my dogs at. I found it really grounding living at a slowed pace and that translated through to making the clothes from British and upcycled fabrics with a sensitive, nostalgic feel to them.

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