Welcome to (Re)!
I am very excited to present a curated “journal of ideas” that is a meeting place of visual art, prose, science, and more.
The idea for this endeavor came about from my love of vintage clothing and found objects and the way in which one ‘re’cycles these objects, et al. to make them their own. This concept then grew from that which we acquire in this vein, to that which we create through our various art forms (and yes, science and math are considered here, to be ‘the application of creative skill and imagination,’ as art is formally defined). All of the material presented incorporates a re-root word, such as relive, reinvent, reuse… into its framework in whatever way the artist chooses. And so, (Re) is a product of this expanded idea.
The journal, available monthly online, features the work of artists/creators/thinkers in various categories and I am honored to present their work within this forum.
Thank you so much for taking the time to explore this new and evolving (re)source.
I hope you enjoy the ride!
— Felice Neals
Writer, reader, photographer, dance devotee, film citizen, language-a-phile…
Memento Mori: Ice Storm/July
Poetry
(Re)turn
Jennifer Franklin
Still Life with Memory Box, Junk Mail, Polaroids, Spare Change, River Viewed Through Window, Extra Keys, and Postcard with Fragmentary Statue of Triple Hecate/Wild
Poetry
(Re)venant
Michael Tyrell
Kintsugi
Poetry
(Re)pair
Megan Skelly
WELCOME TO THE MULTI-GENRE SCIENCE CORNER
“Science is the poetry of reality.” — Carl Sagan
Wait. Did he say the Milky Way is probably full of alien dead civilizations…?!
Read all about it: https://www.mic.com/p/the-milky-way-is-probably-full-of-dead-alien-civilizations-according-to-physicists-53931796
(Re)joice
Artist: Sandy Thurlow
My paintings are a gift of joy from my heart to yours.
Each painting is a prayer for humanity to live in harmony, love, acceptance and peace.
Many of my landscapes and mandala are inspired by the beauty of our natural world.
My paintings are meant to express the simplicity of universal order and the complexity of esoteric symbolism.
(Re)joice in every leaf. (Re)joice in each ray of sunshine and in the smiling eyes of a friend. (Re)joice in the magic of a star-filled sky. (Re)joice in love flowing through life.
A Flower Dies in the Desert
2019. Multimedia Mandala
Little River, South Carolina
Where the Fairies Dance
Little River, South Carolina
Group Endeavor
Ojai, California
Sandy Thurlow grew up in Jacksonville, Florida and fled the South as soon as she was able to after high school.
She was awarded a Ford Foundation Scholarship to George Balanchine’s School of American Ballet in New York City.
She became a VISTA Volunteer in Rhode Island in the mid-1960s and later moved to Boston to participate in the peace, anti-war and feminist movements.
In the 1970s, she returned to NYC to work in an office in midtown Manhattan. At night she learned the Martha Graham modern dance technique at the Alvin Ailey American Dance Academy and took ballet classes at American Ballet Theatre School.
At the age of 68, after having lived in Boston, New York City, Los Angeles, and Oceanside, California, Sandy moved to Ojai, California. The intense spiritual energy inherent in Ojai inspired her to paint again after her retirement from many years in the work-a-day world.
Now she makes her home in Little River, South Carolina with her husband, Ron Thurlow, Ph.D., a wise and patient psychotherapist and Sebastian, their impatient Siamese cat.
Her work can be viewed on: https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/sandy-thurlow and on https://www.facebook.com/ArtbySandyThurlow
Music Stuff
The Carolina Chocolate Drops
Meet the Carolina Chocolate Drops, an African-American bluegrass band, whose album, Genuine Negro Jig garnered a Best Traditional Folk Album Grammy in 2010.
My fascination with regional music came long before a recent visit to Kentucky in the “bluegress south.” But discovering this wonderful group, recommended by a local Uber driver, was an unexpected treat.
According to an interview on NPR in 2014, “the Chocolate Drops got their start in 2005 with Rhianna Giddens, Dom Flemons and fiddle player Justin Robinson. The Durham, North Carolina-based trio would travel every Thursday night to the home of old-time fiddler and songster Joe Thompson to learn tunes, listen to stories and, most importantly, to jam. Joe was in his 80s, a black fiddler with a short bowing style that he inherited from generations of family musicians.”
All of the band members now enjoy solo careers, but their sweet and powerful sound lives on.
Here is a snippet from a live performance in 2012: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmPf1CJaF5s
For those who are familiar with the group and for others, who like myself, are newcomers to the Carolina Chocolate Drops’ tunes, I hope you enjoy their unique and lively style – a sublime tribute to the music and brilliance of the Black string band tradition. — FN
OTHER STUFF
Here is where I would like to express my deepest gratitude to the (Re) contributors, the friends and family who support this adventure with their encouragement and guidance, Lori and Jim, the web consultants who are holding my hand as I build this site with no previous experience in the web tech arena, and the wonderful readers, who I hope will continue to follow our monthly content. Thank you! Merci! Gracias! Shukriya! Grazie! Obrigado! Xiexie! Amsegenallo! Asante! Shukraan!
COVER photograph by Felice Neals: Celebrating Spring. A Young Espalier Tree. The Cloisters. NYC.
ART photographs by Sandy Thurlow.
TEXT photographs by Felice Neals: “Diadems of Spring” Frankfort, Kentucky. March 2021.
SCIENCE SECTION photo: NASA
THANK YOU, as always, to our Editor H.E. Fisher for her sharp eye and invaluable contribution. I could not have gotten this project off and running without her support and editorial expertise.
In honor of Poetry Month and of Spring here is a poem by the always inspiring Harlem Renaissance poet, Claude McKay:
Spring in New Hampshire
Too green the springing April grass,
Too blue the silver-speckled sky,
For me to linger here, alas,
While happy winds go laughing by,
Wasting the golden hours indoors,
Washing windows and scrubbing floors.
Too wonderful the April night,
Too faintly sweet the first May flowers,
The stars too gloriously bright,
For me to spend the evening hours,
When fields are fresh and streams are leaping,
Wearied, exhausted, dully sleeping.
***
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