CALL FOR COVER ART!
Photographers & Visual Artists of all mediums submit your original art to us to be considered for the cover of our No. 3 magazine.
Send high-quality images to INFO@GenreUrbanArts.com by December 1st.
Thank you so much for your support!
The first two therapists I saw were both pastors. While living with my parents, it was hard to even convince my mom to let me see a therapist, so a person of the clergy with a psychology degree was a good compromise for them. Continue reading Sliding Scale
Artist: Ariana Vaeth
Continue reading Selected Works: Ariana Vaeth
As a lover of creativity, I get lost from time to time in other’s creative works. Whether it’s a stroke of a pen or the stroke of a brush, I want to follow its inception to its completion. An artist who I admire as a thinker and creator is Tara Flores. Her works are not only lovely but also intricate. There is a world to get lost in and meditate upon once Flores has given herself to a canvas.
In October, her new series called “Boundaries Lost and Found,” will be showing first at Anthropologie in downtown Seattle for the month of October. Those paintings will also be in the shop on her site.
Here’s a preliminary statement for the upcoming series:
I’m sure most people can relate to having issues with emotional boundaries in relationships (like maybe all you moms of little ones who haven’t peed with the door closed in a few years?) but there are also the boundaries of our physical bodies in space- kind of.
Have you ever had acupuncture and felt all fuzzy and in the midst of your groovy nap-like-meditation-state realized that you don’t feel where your body ends and the space around you begins anymore? Like all your atoms were starting to spread out and float away? Just me?? We’re convinced there are defined limits to what we think of as “self” but what happens when we scale down and see that we’re made of atoms that are mostly made of space? Or that there are far more bacterial cells holding our body together than human ones?I love to picture what this cartoon-Fantasia-version of this tiny science would look like. The beautiful, awe-inspiring energy of it all. The boundaries, the membranes, the movement and scale of life. This is why I paint what I paint.
Purchase her art. Add her accounts. View her work. I promise that you will not be disappointed.
Love, peace & light,
…and tell me again about how you love me
about how empty that statement is
so empty in fact it is better you say nothing
Remind me once again.
The ballad of the lemon
(Small poem on chromatic prohibitions)
(Yellow sun-blinding yellow-yellow yellow)
If you eat lemons will not have your period
If you eat lemons you will not have satisfactions
If you brush your hair while you have “those” things
You block them for sure
Continue reading The Ballad of the Lemon
Artist Jennifer Shepit resides in Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada where she constructs other galaxies with her bare hands, a bit of paint, and universes of imagination, so much so that I found myself sending poetry over to her to request her visual representation of my work. When I laid eyes on this piece of art, I love it so much that I am not even sharing a photo of it in this post as it is the part of a larger project that I cannot wait to reveal. I will say that it is more beautiful in person than it was in the image that she sent me upon completion, and I am stingily am holding onto the painting only parceling out glimpses to others as though it is a secret lover.
Please go view and purchase some of her work. You can view her page at Instagram at @jennifershepit and click here for her Etsy.
Listen to music by Juxt Dame & Brother Wilson. Let us know what you think in comments.
Vibing to this.
in between washing the dishes
Ammi yells at me
curses her life
all I did was accidentally leave the
glass by the tv
I roll my eyes and lock myself in the bathroom
until she’s done the cooking in the kitchen
I come back outside
and plug my brain into the tv
so she can’t throw more side comments my way
Her anger is for me not becoming the person she wished I be
My anger is for her never defending me
but we push it down
we swallow it, chug it down like a bottle of whiskey
let the damage be done inside
all we notice is the burning madness
showing in our swollen eyes
from crying all night
Photography Credit: Chip Johnston