Pénétrable de Chicago

By Tylar Brown Location: Art Institute of Chicago   Dangling low. You are a beauty in some eyes. Long, see through plastic strings are what attract us. Kids automatically gravitate towards you because of your singularity and ingenuity. Walking through your strings feels like swimming, but             with no specific destination. Being                  … Continue reading Pénétrable de Chicago

The Horizon

By Natalie Kirykowicz Location: Art Institute of Chicago She stands and closes her eyes. The rocking that had turned her insides for the past few hours has ceased. As she takes a deep breath, she opens her eyes and looks straight ahead. She looks at nothing. The sea is stretched in a straight line across the horizon. She imagines sailing all the way to the edge, … Continue reading The Horizon

Shattered Tree

The year was 1959. One year before, the Americans and the Soviets finally decided to blow each other up, taking much of the rest of the world with them. Most of the fire, it seems, was concentrated on the USSR and America, though major population centers of allies on both sides were also hit. One of the sides, though nobody was really sure which, decided that … Continue reading Shattered Tree

Forest and Sun

Fire is truly the great equalizer. Both the massive redwood and the lowly dandelion find fire inescapable. I find myself standing in southern Oregon resting my eyes on the charred remains of a once vibrant part of the preserve. A place that very well could have been considered my home as a child. When my parents divorced I never ended up seeing much of my … Continue reading Forest and Sun

I am Margret

I might as well be a fish, Swimming, Without a thought, without a will.  I’m trapped in this glass. If only my confinement wasn’t real. Men. Musty, Scruffy. Yet smarter than I. They go places, See the world. I want to travel and meet people unlike myself. I want to meet those that can speak their minds, Do as they please, Explore new cities and … Continue reading I am Margret

American Collectors

When I was young, my mother always told me, “We are one of Native American.” “You should be proud of yourself,” she said. That was 30 years ago. Now I don’t live like a typical Native American, one that other people may imagine. For those years, my clock never stopped, unlike my mother’s. I left the reservation, went to college, went to law school, and … Continue reading American Collectors