September 8, 2008 — by Jacqueline
They sing.
They hurt.
They teach.
They sanctify.They were man’s first immeasurable feat of magic.They liberated us from ignorance and our barbarous past.
For without these marvelous scribbles which build letters into words, words into sentences, sentences into systems and sciences and creeds, man would be forever confined to the self-isolated prison of the scuttlefish and chimpanzee.
“One picture is worth a ten thousand words,” goes the timeworn Chinese maxim. “But,” one writer tartly said, “It takes words to say that.”
We live by words: Love, Truth, God.
We fight for words: Freedom, Country, Fame.
We die for words: Liberty, Glory, Honor.
They bestow the priceless gift of articulacy on our minds and hearts– from “Mama” to “infinity.”
And the men [and women] who truly shape our destiny, the giants who teach us, inspire us, lead us to deeds of immortality, are those who use words with clarity, grandeur and passion: Socrates, Jesus, Luther, Lincoln, Churchill.
–Leo Rosten
After a months-long search with many qualified applicants, and a lot of talent, we can finally introduce to you our new illustrator: Megan Amoss! A warm thanks goes out to all the applicants that participated: we saw far more great work, passion, spunk, and style than we had even hoped for.
A significant amount of time was spent weighing each illustrator and their work, and making the choice was difficult among so much talented applicants, but in the end Megan came out convincingly on top. She has all of the qualities of a great illustrator, but what set her apart was her individual style that speaks so clearly to the intangibles of art and beauty.
Her audition piece speaks for her better than I can. (We can’t share with you what she was illustrating, but we can show you her audition piece.):
From her bio: Megan Amoss is a Baltimore, MD illustrator and musician. In her spare time, Megan enjoys botany, reading, making websites, and playing chamber music. She occasionally returns library books on time. Her website is meganamoss.com.
Megan is going to be taking over the online illustrations for a time while Anatole and Lacey work on illustrating our Fall print publication, Documenting the Unseen. We’re very excited to be working with her.
Today, her first illustration was published for Christopher Hoitash’s “The Crossroads“. Make sure to check out the fine job she did, and of course read the latest piece too!
You’ve probably noticed that we aren’t the kind of blog that references a lot of funny or even informative videos. I’ve been wondering about this, because online videos sure can be fun to watch, but I never go out of my way to watch them. I only watch them when they are sent to me or watched by other people in my presence and then I can’t help but watch too.
What do you think? Online videos: persistent, annoying, everywhere; or funny, useful, and informative? If we posted or linked to them, would you watch them? Or would that make us like every other blog around?
There are times when I try so hard to not be like everyone else, or to do what everyone else is doing, that I miss out on a lot. This might be one of those times, but I’m not sure.
that you will never read again, nor wish anyone else to read? Ah, I could have thrown it in the trash. I could have burned it in a bonfire. Or shredded it and used it as compost in the garden. But what about the artist in me?
Here are some things I came up with to make book disposal more fun. Because I am completey incompetant at posting pictures to this blog, as I’m sure some of you have noticed, I posted them to my super secret personal blog, here.
Any more suggestions? I still have a lot of the book left …
August 27, 2008 — by Jacqueline
Have the sort of friendship that transcends place.
Sometimes two people feel the same way about something, but express that feeling through different words. And they think they aren’t agreeing because it doesn’t sound like they are.
And I think it’s wonderful that we have the variety of words to express what we mean. But sometimes it makes things that are so simple more complicated than they need to be.
So I wonder what would happen to poetry if there were no such things as synonyms. Poetry especially, but really, all writing. For the same reason we don’t wear uniforms or all drive red cars, there are words that we can use to make life (and writing!) interesting.
I’m not sure if this is a “use a new word today instead of the one you always use” post or if it is an “abandon synonyms for the sake of understanding!” post, but it’s definitely something I’ve observed with fascination for quite a long time.
August 23, 2008 — by Jacqueline
We build towers to attempt the heavens.
But maybe, just maybe, the heavens pour down rain to reach us.
August 21, 2008 — by Jacqueline
I found solitude in an unexpected place for the last two months– in a bustling city full of emergency vehicles’ urgent sirens, stressed-out, sleep-deprived commuters, petulant smells rising from grates, foraging homeless, and stereotypical tourists.
Please read: I wasn’t seeking solitude. I avoided it the way a three-year-old fights sleep.
Up until then, solitude meant isolation. Being alone. I craved connection until I adjusted to the perpetual awareness of my connection to the world.
Now that I’ve left my temporary city life, I crave solitude. Now, though, I’m more peaceful and joyful and less high-strung. I’m less pulled between what I want, and what others need.
It’s not that the grass is greener on the other side when it comes to being in solitude or community, we just need both.
Solitude allows us to be present to all people, to recognize our humanity in each other, to experience life on a level that matters. Without solitude, we lose touch with things that matter.
Try it:
Even just turning off the TV, putting down the book, turning off the music, turning off your phone ringer for ten minutes will get you started. Don’t be afraid to hear what you think. Maybe you’ll grow to like this voice over the perpetual drone of marketing gimmicks, slogans, and theme songs. Let the stillness feed you. It’s like lotion for your insides.
XXII
I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
- Emily Dickinson
I hesitate to write a lengthy post, but can’t help but share what I’ve been reading and thinking about lately.
First is “The Jungle”, by Upton Sinclair, that book I carried with me to Starbucks, a book that focuses on life during the Industrial Revolution. Second is Henry David Thoreau’s “Walden”, perhaps remembered most as something many of us had to read in high school. But I’ve returned to it years later because of one word repeated throughout that has always stuck in my head: simplicity.
The themes of these two books, contrasting in nature, are still relevant today. We still live by the terms of the Industrial Revolution. We can make 200 in a day? So why not push harder and make 215? Why should it be impossible? If we can do it, we should. Bigger and better is always best. Etc, etc, etc. Let’s work ourselves to the bone, and make as much product and money as we can. At the same time, people want to return to the old and familiar, the simple. Organically grown food is not such a new thing. Neither is writing by hand, or walking or biking instead of driving. And yet people are returning to these things with fervor as a means to escape what it is that they so strongly desire, more.
These books were written 100, 150 years ago, and still carry in them ideas that are still churning around today. It’s amazing, it’s relevant, and it makes me glad that I’m not reading only what’s on the current bestsellers list.
“Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. “
–Thoreau
I’ve been going to Starbucks every workday for almost two weeks now. I’m pretty ashamed for getting myself into that sort of routine, which is not only helping to destroy the independent coffee house, but it is costing me a good deal of money - and I can’t even say that their coffee does it for me.
However, had I not been at Starbucks this morning, I would not have been able to have a … moment, encounter, I don’t even know what to call it.
I ordered my Americano. I sat down because I had like seven minutes to kill. I pulled “The Jungle” by Upton Sinclair out of my purse and began to read. And then came the nice young man that I ordered my coffee from. He was wiping off tables and asked me casually “What are you reading?”
I quickly realized that I’d have to give him an honest answer. “‘The Jungle’ by Upton Sinclair” I said, knowing full well that even a few weeks ago, that would have meant nothing to me, and figuring it probably wouldn’t to him, either. He would probably ask what it was about, and I would have to tell him.
I was right. “What’s it about?” he asked. To which I launched into a little summation about the meat-packing industry in Chicago at the turn of the century. “It’s really pretty gory,” I said, thinking that I didn’t sound much like a nicely-dressed-in-pink, twenty-something girl who stopped at Starbucks on her way to her professional job. I wondered if I should give him details about the plot so it would sound more interesting, until I realized that maybe it wasn’t the best conversation piece. So I didn’t. And he politely said “Oh, I’ll have to read it sometime,” and went on his way.
It seems ridiculous to be self conscious about what I’m reading. But I have to admit, I would have felt a lot more like a normal, pleasant, professional yonung lady if I had been reading something by Jane Austin. Stereotypes. Oh well.
Shouldn’t the days that are the most boring and tedious be the days where my mind is filled with creativity? You know, since because I’m not really doing anything, my mind should be roaming all over the place in its attempt to remain functional?
As it seems to happen, the duller the day, the less my mind feels like doing anything.
Any sympathizers? Givers of solutions?
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