Month: March 2017

An Interview with Michael Gillan Maxwell

How would you describe your journey as an artist? I trained in fine arts at the University of Colorado in Boulder in the 70’s and went to work in a production pottery studio before moving to the Ithaca area in New York where I established Old Mill Pottery. I did that for almost 8 years and eventually became a teacher of visual art in public schools, community art centers and at the college level. While ceramics remained my main area of focus, I also experimented with a wide variety of mixed media. I studied photography and continued exploring a...

Read More

An Interview with Ileen Kaplan

How would you describe your journey as an artist? I have loved visual art as an appreciator for as long as I can remember. I took many art history classes in college, and a high point in my life was going to the Chicago Art Institute and seeing in person many of the paintings that I had studied about. But it wasn’t until I took a trip with Michael to Bavaria in 1998 that I thought about painting myself. We were taking a walk through some fields in the gorgeous early morning light and I heard a voice my...

Read More

Why I Like Complicated Positions

I prefer complicated positions in cramped spaces for sex. Sudden attempts at eye contact make face-to-face fucks uncomfortable given the fleetingness of efforts connecting feelings to specific nerve endings. Which synapse gets fired. I don’t wonder what he’s thinking unless he shoves his eyes into mine, intrusive as a couples selfies. A man’s gaze is rarely more gentle than his member. He wants something substantial with those fries. Would I prefer a rear-facing position every time? Generalization is insufficient. A formula comforts, but comfort is the petri dish of boredom. The quantity of comfortable bored folks is clinical. Statistics...

Read More

Hypervolemia

How do I know if I’m one of those people? The clouds are plush purple wholly water. The morning boils with questions like a child in a new land. It’s all new to them: questions, answers, it’s all the same to them. But you didn’t want answers, or at least not anymore. Why not? With a fracture, bone pierces brain. There’s a certain beauty in bruising as it rushes in — the flush of release, the flash of stars when the brain smashes into the back of the skull. Flesh is stones on a beach that low tide relinquishes....

Read More

The Insect Effect and My Alma Mater

I’m not saying where but two undergrads died of alcohol poisoning, a fraternity went into the porno business, and riots broke out at Fifth and Ivy. A midge drowned in my eye, its body flown into me. A gelatinous wreck on a saline sea. Waves of schnapps slosh in my mother soul and I cry mid-sentence. A smutty thrust of genitals intrudes on my grocery list and I forget to buy milk. I see police with paintball guns. My arms sting, my ears ring. There, there. A calm grabs me by the sleeve. I kneel down for a brunch...

Read More