It’s the very last day of 2014, and I wanted to post one more installment of TheThe Infoxicated Corner before we take off a few (more) weeks, and I catch y’all again a bit later into the New Year. I can’t believe Infoxicated went live at the beginning of September: the past few months have flown by, and yet I have the feeling that we’ve gone some crazy places together through all the absolutely stunning contributions people have shared with us. I feel very blessed to have brought y’all this amazing stuff, and really grateful to the other TheThe crew, who invited me and and gave me my own little corner. (How sad would it be if I didn’t have this platform, and this embarrassment of aesthetic/creative riches had been kept to my quiet little niche of SoCal?) And I’m really pleased — no, I think a better word might be proud — to finish out the calendar year on this note, to be able to bring y’all these final pieces to keep you art-inebriated until we reconvene in 2015.
These pieces are all about vision — learning to see things, and how. Tyree Guyton and Trista Dymond over at The Heidelberg Project in Detroit have not only shown their city a new way to look at a “bad” neighborhood — more recently, they’ve also taken physical evidence of malice (the remnants of their houses, destroyed by arson) and transformed them into a community-unifying, buoyantly creative project that fosters connectivity of all kinds. Bradley Harrison reviews Dorothea Lasky’s Rome, paying careful attention to her work before it and tracing the trajectory of her craft with the kind of keen, thoughtful focus that all artists hope their work will receive. PhD/RN Samantha Cohen Tamulis has penned a personal, delightfully smart and smart-alecky essay about how her advanced degree in Literature advances her struggle to challenge the application of hostile language to women’s bodies within the medical profession. And Allie Marini Batts graces us with her sweet, fantastic, smithereen-ing poems: they dance in flux between the wounds of the past, the abandon of the present, and the inevitability of a future whose dimensions refuse to fully reveal themselves until it’s too late.
May your days be merry and bright. I’m already kvelling over the stuff I get to bring y’all in the New Year.
Beatitudes,
F3
