"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty

Posts tagged ‘Art is Power’

Daily Prompt Love <3 Even–Especially–When It's Hard

23 May 2017

Make art about seeing the world through eyes of Love, especially when it seems most impossible. 

love first

 

 

Daily Prompt <3 That Beautiful Yawp

22 May 2017

Thanks and Love to that fabulous poet-sister Amy Tudor for posting the article that inspires today’s prompt. 

“Adults in America don’t sing communally. Children routinely sing together in their schools and activities, and even infants have sing-alongs galore to attend. But past the age of majority, at grown-up commemorations, celebrations, and gatherings, this most essential human yawp of feeling—of marking, with a grace note, that we are together in this place at this time—usually goes missing.”

How Communal Singing Disappeared From American Life: And Why We Should Bring It Back

Make art about singing with others, about that joining of voices. 

singing

Very Special Call for Submissions Love <3 FutureCycle Press and Good Works Review

The wonderful Robert S. King and Diane Kistner at FutureCycle Press are launching a new journal: Good Works Reviewnow open for submissions. 

From the website: 

“Submissions to our first issue are now open (see guidelines) for poetry, short fiction, literary essays, and black-and-white artwork. We will not publish online but in an annual printed issue along with a Kindle e-book version, usually in December of each year.

Like Kentucky Review, this new publication is part of FutureCycle Press’s Good Works Projects. All proceeds from sales of GWR are donated to the ACLU.

Website: http://goodworksreview.futurecycle.org/

Guidelines: https://futurecycleflash.submittable.com/submit

Daily Prompt Catch-Up <3 Attempting Peace in the Tumult

20 May 2017

Sewing without a pattern, a night gown I’ve wanted to attempt for months, but kept scaring myself out of trying. 

Make art about attempting something you’ve been scared to try. 

gown for prompt

 

21 May 2017

Make art about making moments of peace among the tumult. 

peace among tumult

Friday Call for Submissions Love <3 Blood Tree: Inaugural Issue

Blood Tree
“Blood Tree Literature is an up-and-coming online literary journal based in Santa Fe, New Mexico. We are currently looking for lyrical and resonant works of flash fiction/nonfiction, prose, experimental, and hybrids that push the boundaries of convention and genre. We welcome both published and emerging writers. 
Additionally, we are so excited to announce that we are welcoming visual artists to submit art forms including but not limited to: video essays & short films, photo series, fine art collections, graphic design, and each and every variant of these medias. Artwork will be accompanied by a biography and a link (if applicable) to the artist’s website. This is a great opportunity for those who are looking to both promote their art through a different medium and draw attention to personal portfolios.
Please send submissions to bloodtreelitATyahooDOTcom to be considered for publication. All submissions must be submitted in a single Microsoft Word or PDF document with page numbers. Please include a cover page stating your name, a brief bio, and your contact information. 
The launch of Blood Tree is due this summer. Submissions are rolling.
Website: https://www.bloodtreeliterature.com/
On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pg/bloodtreelit/about/
Editor at Blood Tree 

Daily Prompt Love <3 Another Chance: A Very Special Birthday Prompt

19 May 2017

Seven years ago today, my oldest son J was in a terrible car accident, his little plastic Saturn sedan t-boned by a brand new Dodge Charger with its all-steel construction.

J, my laughing, charismatic, kind, smart son, only 22 then, was critically injured, with a compression skull fracture, subdural hematoma, subarachnoid hemorrhaging, and four feather bleeds into his beautiful brain. They airlifted him by helicopter from our small town to the major medical facility, MCV, in Richmond, admitting him directly into the neurological ICU. He was conscious the whole time, talking, joking, charming the nurses, complaining that he couldn’t look out the window on his first-ever helicopter ride, even saying things meant to reassure me, his sister, his brother, the friends who stood by us at the hospital. We bedded down in the ICU waiting room, while behind those heavy doors, monitors clicked and hummed, documenting my son’s traumatic brain injury. That was Wednesday. 

Early Thursday afternoon, as I stood as J’s bedside, a doctor we hadn’t seen before strode in, his crisp white lab coat flowing behind him. He introduced himself as the head of neurological research, and after a moment, he asked us if we had seen J’s latest CT scan. We hadn’t, so he hurried from the room, telling us he’d be right back. J and I looked at each other, confused, and my son must have seen worry in my eyes, as he patted my hand. 

The doctor returned, wheeling in a large piece of equipment, a medical imaging viewer, and positioned it at the end of J’s ICU bed. He turned it on and the image of my son’s skull appeared,  stark in the black and whiteness of it all. For a second, we were completely silent. Then the doctor, smiling, began to explain what we were seeing.

What we were seeing was nothing: no bleeding, no bruising, no swelling. The only sign that remained of my son’s injury just 24 hours before was the spiderweb of fractures in the bone, as if a pencil eraser had been pushed into the fragile shell of an egg, a network of bone break just beneath the C-shaped wound on the side of his head.  J’s brain looked completely normal, showing not a single other sign of the blow he’d taken the day before in the wreck that had left his little car mangled, left nothing but the driver’s seat intact. 

The doctor grinned, saying, “We want to study you, study why and how you healed so quickly.”

That was Thursday. We brought J home midday on Friday. Six weeks later, he was back at work, then back to his last year of college that fall. We talked time and again about his miraculous healing, about why it might have happened. 

J, my wise son, said, “Mom, I don’t know why it happened. I just know I got another chance.” 

He now calls May 19 his birthday. His Facebook status this morning read, “Today, I am alive.” 

Make art about being given another chance. 

 

J and Max

 

 

 

Daily Prompt Love Catch-Up <3 Small Lights

17 May 2017

I hate grocery shopping. But today while grudging my way through it, I ran into a retired colleague whom I adore and haven’t seen in a while. He made me laugh, like always. And I laughed through the rest of the shopping. 

Make art about something good arising from something you usually dread. 

flower

18 May 2017

Dreamt I was lighting candles, thousands and thousands of candles, as far as I could see. 

Make art about the power small lights. 

candles

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