more from the
Spring 2017 issue:
Letters from the Guest Editor
– Jennifer Bonner
We're in for Better Wetter
An Interview with Leonard Koren
– Mimi Zeiger
Windows on the World
Sharon Johnston with Veronika Kellndorfer
Barbara Bestor and Brooke Hodge
– Floria Sigismondi
Spring 2017 (41.01)
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— Floria Sigismondi
Water often drifts in and out of my work,
its image recurring like a message from the subconscious.
I am made of the very thing. It gnaws at me.
When I finally forget about it, it's no use, I get thirsty!
When the water, the ocean is too far away, I am compelled to
make a concrete container and fill it up with the stuff.
I can't help it.
I really can't get away from it, as much as I try. It carries me.
It soothes and feeds me and sometimes even threatens me.
When I want to drift off into a dream I drift into its mesmerizing,
always changing reflections, and dance with the sun.
When I'm bored, I try to pick it up. It alludes me.
It drips right through me as though to challenge whether I truly exist.
When I'm angry I shout at it and its molecules start to change.
It becomes my anger. It becomes my poison. Anger is d-anger.
I met the shark from Jaws in my container.
There is a whole world in there if I want it ... if I squint hard enough, if I can make
myself small enough, if I can make my molecules mix with the molecules of the
water then maybe I can be as fluid as the shark in my container.
Maybe I can be anything and everything! I can be a tree that grows out
and beyond the surface of the water, bigger and taller than the water,
and then I can obliterate it completely, only to hope for rain,
just to fill my concrete container again, so I can be something else.
In my back yard.
I built a concrete container.
I filled it with my subconscious, so I could swim
as deep as my imagination.