It Is All in the Mind
The Sand’s Script
David Albert Solberg
The Night of
Dripping Conviction of an Everlasting Beauty
Another Restless Night in My Apartment
A Dark and Early Breakfast
I Speak of
Self Portrait as a Ghost
Make Me Like Autumn
What I Want to Know About You
Danger of Devotion
Lies We Tell Our Children
This is not a collection.
This is not meant to be read the way one would read most literary magazines, as a collection of pieces that are placed with careful intention, but inform each other insomuch as they sit across the divide of binding. This is not a collection, though we recognize that this distinction may be slightly misleading. This is a collection of art, but it is a collection in the same way that one's hand is merely a collection of flesh and tendons wrapped around the muscles and bones that allow us to grip and shake and emote. There is similarity here, because we do not look at the hand and notice its fundamental facets. We instead silently acknowledge our uncontested understanding that there are integral parts that forge the sum, and we marvel at their complexity when we ask ourselves just what is it that constitutes a hand; literal synecdoche. This magazine was designed to be viewed with the same kind of wonder.
Every poem, every piece of art, every piece of prose was selected carefully for the purpose of informing the piece that comes next, and the way in which we have culled these pieces together should work to create something larger than the pieces themselves: there is a narrative here. It exists within the framework of a magazine, and it developed in a way that we did not suspect it would when we first imagined what this issue would look like. Imagine our surprise, when having grabbed several distinct puzzle pieces from boxes strewn across the room, we found that each box contained a piece that snapped to the next, creating a picture that we did not know existed, much less anticipated. This is why we stress the cohesion of this magazine.
But in no way are we attempting to dictate the way that this should be read, for we are mindful of the fact that every person experiences art in a manner that is uniquely and completely theirs. Our only hope is that like a novel, the themes and elements present in each piece carry on throughout each chapter, and that this experience is not lost on the reader. We hope that even if you do not read this from cover to cover, that by exploring the confines of this literary sacellum you can see how these pieces work together, how they imbue each other with the experience of having been wrought with the commonality of creation; each work occupies the same air.
We thank you for opening these pages, for whatever reason that may be, and we want you to know that we are proud of this product and what it represents. We publish the work of honors students, but we believe that this affixed distinction is not necessary; we publish the work of artists. We thank every individual who was published in this issue and we thank every person who submitted, and we can only hope that interest in this magazine continues to grow, that the pieces we receive allow us to continue to produce the best possible product. Because this is our first issue, we recognize that we are setting the precedent for future issues, and all we can promise is that we are ready to meet the challenge of compiling the best art that we can, the kind of art that touches the souls of those engaging with it, the type of engagement that makes us feel like we belong in the world.
No matter what comes next, we only hope that you will continue to be there with us, and we hope that what you have in your hands is something that you will continue to come back to. That there will be something in this magazine that will speak to you in the way that great art does. This is not a collection.
This is the breath of life.