The Cascadi a Subducti on Z A LITERARY on QUARTERLY e‑ October 2012 X Vol. 2 No. 4 E ssays Painting and Writing: My Yin and Yang by Kiini Ibura Salaam Line Improvisation: Notes by the Fly in the Web by Mark Rich Poems Ortygia to Trimountaine by Sonya Taaffe Julia Margaret Cameron, 1860s IN THIS ISSUE Catherine McGuire GRANDMOTHER MAGMA Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness BOOK REVIEWS Birds and Birthdays by Christopher Barzak Lady Poetesses from Hell edited by Bag Person Collective Three by Annemarie Monahan Spacesuit: Fashioning Apollo by Nicholas de Monchaux Snapshots from a Black Hole & X Why Ask Y Kristine Campbell Other Oddities by K.C. Ball FEATURED ARTIST Kristine Campbell $4.00 Managing Editor VOL. 2 NO. 4—OCTOBER 2012 Lew Gilchriist Reviews Editor E ssays Nisi Shawl Painting and Writing: My Yin and Yang h 3 Features Editor by Kiini Ibura Salaam L. Timmel Duchamp Line Improvisation: Notes by the Fly in the Web h 6 Arts Editor by Mark Rich Kath Wilham GRANDMOTHER MAGMA REVIEW $4.00 Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness h 12 reviewed by Suzy McKee Charnas Poems Ortygia to Trimountaine h 18 by Sonya Taaffe Julia Margaret Cameron, 1860s h 20 Catherine McGuire REVIEWS Birds and Birthdays by Christopher Barzak h 14 H reviewed by Nic Clarke 2 Lady Poetesses from Hell, edited by Bag Person Collective h 16 reviewed by David Findlay Three by Annemarie Monahan h 17 reviewed by Deb Taber Spacesuit: Fashioning Apollo by Nicholas de Monchaux h 19 reviewed by Karen Burnham Snapshots from a Black Hole & Other Oddities, by K.C. Ball h 21 reviewed by Victoria Elisabeth Garcia FEATURED ARTIST Kristine Campbell h 22 Subscriptions and single issues online To order by check, payable to: at: www.thecsz.com Aqueduct Press Print subscription: $15/yr; P.O. Box 95787 Print single issue: $4 Seattle, WA 98145-2787 Electronic Subscription (PDF format): [Washington State Residents $10 per year add 9.5% sales tax.] In This Issue Electronic single issue: $3 Cover banner collagraph of the Cascadia subduction zone by Marilyn Liden Bode n y Painting and Writing: My Yin and Yang by Kiini Ibura Salaam The impulse to make art is as mysteri- ing posters for political marches and col- ous as it is insistent. Most artists cannot orful teaching materials. She treated us explain why they are drawn to create, let as apprentices, teaching us how to mea- alone why they create in a particular medi- sure, draw, cut, and color letters, numbers, um. Artists create under the sway of biol- charts, and designs. It is no wonder, then, ogy — physical and mental aptitude — and that as children all five of the Salaam sib- “Though we separate inexplicable urgings to develop something lings were always creating something. My artists from nonartists, sister and I frequently transformed the en- new. Though we separate artists from non- artistry can be seen artists, artistry can be seen in every aspect vironment in our bedroom, collaging tables in every aspect of life. of life. From wardrobe to word choice, we and walls with colorful images pulled from From wardrobe to word all curate our self-expressions. When the magazines. My brothers drew superheroes choice, we all curate our persona we created hits the mark, we are from the pages of their comic books; my alive to the thrill of knowing that our ex- sisters and I drew women we imagined, self-expressions.” ternal expression effectively broadcasts the sketched out fashion we wanted to wear, thoughts, feelings, and perspective we ex- and made oversized greeting cards and perience within. Making art is like that. It posters for friends and family members. is the process of expressing a person’s in- Interestingly, only one of us became a ternal landscape in a creative format that visual artist; I became a writer. Because can be shared with others. When an artist while art was always there, so were words. captures the impulses and intentions that A family of voracious readers, my siblings spur them to create, the rush is amazing. and cousins were all fluent in the literary Artistry was one of the central founda- arts. We frequently created booklets of our tions of my childhood. My four siblings stories and ideas with no regard for wheth- and I grew up in a swirl of music, visual er our writing was remarkable. I never i art, dance, literature, and activism. We considered my own writing personally sig- lived among thousands of iterations of nificant; I had dreams of being a dancer. 3 art — from shelves upon shelves of vinyl Before college, I abandoned dance and records lining the living room walls to vi- chose computer science as my major. But brant prints and paintings covering nearly after my first semester, I gave up ignoring every vertical surface, to bookshelves load- my ease and facility with words. I dropped ed with both books and three-dimension- the pretense that literature held no special al art from the African diaspora: art was meaning and changed majors. central and omnipresent throughout my As I delved into literary criticism and upbringing. black women’s autobiographies, I contin- The art objects in my home were not ued to make posters and greeting cards, simply objects that had been collected but I did so as a self-professed amateur. for visual impact; they were the cherished It was my older sister who was the artist. “Living among the expressions created by members of my She was a fashion designer; a watercolor, creations of relatives parents’ community. Living among the oil, and acrylic painter; a portrait artist. and family friends creations of relatives and family friends in- Her mediums were varied — paper, pencil, inculcated in me the culcated in me the understanding that art marker, bark, moss, leaves, orange peels, understanding that was something you made, not just appre- calligraphy ink; anything she could use to art was something ciated; that it was normal for you and the make a mark and hold form was fair game. you made, not just people in your community to create work Art was not only her innate talent, it was appreciated….” that brought value to the lives of others. also her personal expression and her cho- My parents themselves were creators, sen vocation. While making art was a fluid makers of things that others appreciated. part of my sister’s life, a chasm stretched My father was a poet and profound lover between me and artmaking. I dreamed of music. He would take us to dark bars, of being a real artist, but I stood on the where we would sit in a booth and watch wrong bank of the chasm, unable to reach Ellis Marsalis pound out Monk on the the place where “serious” art was made. piano. My mother was constantly creat- Cont. on p. 4 n Painting and Writing Three years after college — after I had of hyper-awareness. I must cut through (Cont. from p. 3) traveled the world, earned a Master’s de- mental chatter and listen keenly to locate gree, and had my first job — I finally ac- the right note to identify the exact flow of knowledged my desire to create “real” art. words that will effectively embody my idea, It happened away from home where no thought, or character. Writing demands one could judge or comment on my ef- vigilance to false starts, lazy descriptions, forts, where I could not compare my work and vague statements. Only after I have to that of “real” artists. I had buried myself picked through a jumble of words, images, amongst the crumbling old buildings of and ideas can I unearth the precise details Pelourhino in Salvador, Bahia, to write a that accurately render the contours of my novel. As I wrestled my ideas into themes subject. and chapters, I found myself surrounded In my first draft, I am like a stenogra- “Painting, for me, is by art. Sculpture, paintings, masks, and pher, transcribing the words as they fall always an exercise in crafts spilled out from ragtag galleries that through my mind. In the second draft I improvisation born from displayed art of varying skill levels. My am an explorer, hiking my way through a surrender. I lay down gaze bounced from the realistic render- labyrinth of possible approaches in search a line and follow it ings of highly trained painters to tourist of the right path of words to follow. On my through to a curve.” art that vibrantly captured the city with journey, I encounter walls that I must navi- rough strokes and stick figures. The range gate, obstacles to climb over, strictures to of what the galleries presented and sold as wrestle with. Editing is vigorous intellec- art heartened me. The certainty that my art tual exercise, a logical quagmire, a math- would be less sophisticated than the best ematical challenge. Writing presents a and more refined than the crudest was se- Rubik’s Cube of choices that I dare myself ductive. I found myself buying paints and to engage with. I often find myself squint- canvas. Untrained and uncertain, I decided ing, forehead wrinkled, as I attempt to see I would give painting a try. past the paragraph bluffs to identify the My first painting was of a woman I had combination of words, the sentence flow, H sketched after seeing the work of a local the voice and tone that will best deliver the sculptor. The woman’s facial features were truths I am trying to invoke.