ISSUE IV

ISSUE 04 DECEMBER 2021
SIENNA
SOLSTICE
an anti-disciplinary publication

antidisciplinary (adj.)
a rejection of the idea of the “interdisciplinary,” as disciplines are
not only interconnected, but interdependent, wherein no system of
thought can contain the fullness of the human experience

LETTER FROM
THE EDITORS
Dear Reader,
As I saw the pages of this volume come together, I found myself in awe of the
dimension and complexity with which our featured creators have presented their
worlds to us. As with every preceding volume, the works included in this issue
illuminate the pockets of existence that cannot be found without the vessels of
shared experience–artwork, prose, poetry, film, photography, and even more–
brought forth by our creators. Too easily we look upon the world and search for
the next best thing. On this Winter Solstice, I invite you to consider our world in
all the beauty she has already laid out before us.
—Kate
As we wind down our year, Sienna Solstice approaches its second year as a
journal. In these two years, we’ve had chances to explore the founding question
of our project: what do we lose when we draw strict boundaries between mediums
of expression and exploration? From interviews with artists, creators, and
academics through the countless pieces we’ve received from our community,
we’ve been able to interact with individual projects highlighting the margins.
This issue features computer generated art, music in conversation with neurotransmitters,
photographs investigating the self, and a multitude of other permutations
of mediums. In this dialogue of mediums, we hope you continue to
see the multiplicity of life and our world’s interdependence between the different
disciplines of expression.
Thank you for celebrating with us this Winter Solstice.
Warmly,
Kate & Lea

table of c
06 08
An Interview with
Melodysheep
The Editors
14
To Forget You
To Become No One
Stephanie Alishan
Opening Image
Robert Fanning
The Waiting
Stephanie Alishan
16
Only When I Forgave
Stephanie Alishan
22
Demodex
Morgan Rondinelli
24
Kinetic Tapestry
Aaron Lelito

ontents
10 12
Toronja
J. Villanueva
Paradigm shift of
body recognition
Mina Hyeon
Junhong Cho
Peace Choi
18 20
NeuroKnitting Beethoven
Varvara and Mar
Gagarin in the Trees
Andre F. Peltier
Personified River
Linda Dallimore
West of the Milky Way,
South of the Clouds
Emerald Liu
26
Franklin Carmichael Of The
Group Of Seven Using Duct
Tape For The First Time
Colin James
Song for Standing Bells
Robert Fanning
28
Playmates
Edwin Evans-Thirlwell
Selections from
‘Other Seasons’
Edward Lee
The Tiniest Suns
Maija Haavisto

6 SIENNA SOLSTICE
An Interview with Melodysheep
John D. Boswell, known by his artist name as Melodysheep, is a composer,
filmmaker, editor, and VFX artist whose work has spanned the depths of the
internet and the entertainment industry. Known particularly for his viral compositions
centered around space and the natural world, Melodysheep’s work
evokes questions regarding the interactions of music and scientific wonder.
Pursuing such an ambitious passion like musical science is rare and not everyone really understands
it. What challenges did you encounter on this journey? How did you overcome this
and what advice would you give people who want to pursue something similar?
MELODYSHEEP: The biggest challenge in what I do is in trying to relate the information
clearly, but also impactfully & creatively. The scientific worldview is beautiful, but can
be hard for the average person to wrap their head around, just because of how detailed
and deep the picture is. Cut-and-dry explanations are simple, but creative approaches to
relaying information can be much more stirring and impactful. So it takes quite a bit of
care to figure out the best way to relay the information in a compelling way anyone can
understand, but also with fresh new approach. It helps to share works-in-progress with
people who are unfamiliar with the subject, and get their take. Is the information clear?
And is the emotional impact there? Very important to strike the right balance. And the
music should always support the storytelling, not get in the way of it.
Take us through a step-by-step of where your mind is when you are creating music for science.
How does science translate to a score in your mind?
MELODYSHEEP: My step-by-step process begins with asking: how do I use music to
help convey these ideas? What genres best serve the subject, and what moods can
reflect the knowledge I’m sharing? Once I have a script, I map out crescendos that add
suspension while taking in preliminary information, and climaxes for when you receive
that pinnacle piece of information. The rest is shaping the music into the right mood and
vibe.
On your website you write you “strive to evoke a sense of awe” in your music. How do you
come across evoking those grandiose feelings of awe with such grandiose subjects such as
space and nature?
MELODYSHEEP: I like to let the music take center stage often; too many words or descriptions
can be distracting, and the audience needs breaks to process what they’ve
heard. Music can help steer your mind in a direction while stewing on those thoughts;
exultant music will make you feel inspired, while creepy music will lead your mind to
more questions and imagining stranger possibilities.

ISSUE IV 7
What was your experience working with Protocol Labs? How did you foster this connection?
MELODYSHEEP: Juan Benet from Protocol Labs reached out to me directly and expressed
interest in supporting my work. We discovered that our interests were clearly
aligned, and that it could be a natural partnership. With their support, I can focus more
on creating science content for public consumption, and less on working side jobs to
pay the bills. For that I couldn’t be more grateful, and they have been amazing partners
the last couple of years.
What was the research process for the project like? Considering you have a non-STEM educational
background, but a strong passion for the sciences, how did you go about obtaining
the theories you incorporated and how did you decide on which theories to feature?
MELODYSHEEP: The research process was continuous throughout the year-long journey
it took to make the video. It was mostly done through reading articles and watching
lectures, taking notes as I went and continuously tweaking the timeline to make
sure everything fit correctly. There’s really a lot you can learn this way, and when you
get stuck, it’s easy to reach out to scientists and ask them questions; they are usually
happy to oblige.
We have a bit of tradition with every artist we feature where at the end of the interview we
ask them for what advice they’d give to our audience (of mostly college-aged students). So
following with tradition: what advice would you give to yourself when you were our age?
MELODYSHEEP: Keep doing what you love! I never thought this would be my career,
but when you’re passionate about something, you get good at it, and people will pay
attention.

8 SIENNA SOLSTICE
OPENING IMAGE
Robert Fanning
—after Arve Henriksen
Even Spring’s early work: operose—
throat-stuck.
Dull light
through shattered green
windows of a long-abandoned factory
in a winter city
no-one visits—
a column of sleet
falls through
a hole in the roof
—a slate grey sky.
Something flaps up above
the rusted beams and pillars, broken
chain links, massive iron hooks
on frayed ropes and cables—
everywhere, ghost music
of machines
that once held everything together.
When she comes,
dragging her yellow gown
across grit and glass,
across tufts of feathers and shit—
her voice crackles —at first—
a muted trumpet
in the mist
before throwing herself
open— her impromptu aria
a wide beacon sweeping
over the stone avenues,
the empty city.

ISSUE IV 9
The Waiting
Stephanie Alishan

10 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Toronja
J. Villanueva
When you take a heavy motorcycle, that’s not meant
for offroad use, through dirt trails filled with shifting sand,
mud, and rocks—after some time there comes a sweet
moment when you stop noticing all of those things. Your hands
no longer feel the vibrations on the handlebars.
The arches of your feet no longer feel the pain
brought by the digging of the two spiked footpegs.
And you float on dialed-in suspension as if your weight
meant nothing at all, like I assume it means
absolutely nothing in the vacuum of outer space.
I remember feeling that, as a boy, when I would take
an old beat up Huffy through areas I would
call trails. Through rows of toronja tree labores
and up on top of canal levees is where that hand
me down would go. Whether it was fixing flats,
stealing a grapefruit for lunch, or rearranging the old
bike’s chain, I was able to handle anything. Even the
horse sized dogs, from that one house near the
monte, that would chase me were nothing. Whatever
those trails put in front of me and that bike, didn’t have any
weight at all. Sometimes, when I felt extra brave,
I would stay out there ‘til nighttime and watch the stars appear.
Scattered like grains of salt across the black table that
is the night sky. I wondered how long I would have
to pedal to reach one of those specks of light. As always,
some noise from the void would smack me out of my
stupor, and I would fly straight home. Standing tall regardless
of my fear, tears in my young eyes, weightless on
my pegs. I learned in astronomy class, once, that
the nearest star to us, Alpha Centauri, is

ISSUE IV 11
around twenty five trillion miles away. On a oneto-one-billion
scale of the universe—if the
size of the sun was around the size of a grapefruit and
you set that fruit sun down on the west coast—the
nearest grapefruit would be Alpha Centauri, twenty
five hundred miles away on the east coast. I
still dream of one day getting on my spaceship and
riding to the nearest star where another boy,
on his spaceship, might have a trail for me to ride.
And perhaps, a grapefruit for me to munch on.

12 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Paradigm shift of body recognition
Mina Hyeon (Generative Art + Writing),
Junhong Cho (Choreographer + Dancer),
Peace Choi (Cinematographer)

ISSUE IV 13
This work is an experiment in observing and expressing how the body is
perceived and how several relationships constantly change in virtual but
‘real’ environments.
Choreographer/dancer Junhong Cho, whom I met on a dance project NAMU
in 2018. This artist’s movements coexist with lightness walking on calm water
and powerful energy when a massive ice wall cracks down.
—Mina Hyeon

14 SIENNA SOLSTICE
To Forget You

ISSUE IV 15
To Become No One
Taken over the last couple years, these works are images of the ‘other’. The other in
terms of another body: a strange physical form or our own form on days we feel at
war within, as well as the other in nature: the all encompassing presence of systems
so much bigger than us. It is within our own vessels we experience the other, it is
within the body we find the husk of what differentiates and connects us to the earth.
These images are not just an ode to the beauty of the earth but of the naked figure,
acknowledging the isolation and despair our residing within them can cause. Intimacy
with the self comes from time with ourselves alone, and peace comes from our
time alone in Nature. When we return to the body: we return to the earth.
—Stephanie Alishan

16 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Only When

ISSUE IV 17
I Forgave

# SIENNA SOLSTICE
NeuroKnitting Beethoven
Varvara and Mar
Credit: Nabi Art Centre
NeuroKnitting Beethoven celebrates the 250th anniversary of the great composer
Ludwig van Beethoven by re-imagining his music through the creative application
of brain waves and knitting. In a classical music concert, we hear the interpretation
of the composer’s piece by a musician. What if we could also see and manifest in
the knitting processes the musician’s state of mind when performing?
NeuroKnitting Beethoven project re-visits Beethoven’s music by offering a novel
experience of classical music at the interface between neuroscience, music, and
media art. During the concert, we recorded the brain waves of a pianist (in Seoul
we recorded Buddist monk’s brain waves), which affected Circular Knitic’s (our circular
knitting machine) pattern and knitting speed. The first one is composed of the
peaks of attention level, and the second corresponded to the meditation state. In
other words, the higher was the attention, the denser was the pattern. And higher
was the meditation level, faster knitted the machine. And all these processes were
in real-time and took place simultaneously.
For full project documentation see: http://var-mar.info/neuroknitting-beethoven/

ISSUE I #
In addition to the affective knitting
with brain data, the performance had
also visuals that represented all data
that was received from the EEG headset
and had thematic videos that were
generated with AI algorithm (Style-
GAN2) and that reacted to the audio
input (music in this case), too.
The project was initially planned as an
on-site interactive performance-concert
that was transformed into a telematic
performance due to Covid-19,
which added an additional twist to the
project. Meaning, the concert, capturing
brain data, and visuals were happening
in the physical space of the
performance with the audience. Knitting
happened in our studio and was
streamed to the performance place,
and at the same time, brain data from
the performance place was sent over
the internet in real-time to our studio
that controlled the knitting machine.
Also, the entire performance was
streamed online.

20 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Gagarin in the Trees
Andre F. Peltier
The ghost of Yuri Gagarin
floats down the hallways
of the International
Space Station.
The resident astronauts,
cosmonauts, uchū-hikō-shi
salute as he slides by.
They tell him their deepest secrets
while flushing their filth
into the void.
“Dear Yuri,” they say,
“It’s been eight hours since
my last evacuation.
I have eaten two portions of
dehydrated chocolate pudding,
and I spent twenty minutes
on the tread mill.
I really miss morning coffee
overlooking the
Hollywood sign
and the Kiselyova Rock.
I miss lazy Saturdays
in my garden.”
“Поехали,” he replies.
The vacuum of space
greets the spationauts
and the spationauts wave
to Gagarin while falling
27,000 kilometers per hour.
When the falling station
misses the curve of the Earth
again and again,
the spationaut says
a brief prayer,
thanking the engineers,
those great rangers of
the atomic age.
Claudie Haigneré said
her prayers to Gagarin also
and in return,
he blessed her saintly
homecoming.
eases around the trees
in my back yard
and climbs the tallest
to get a better view.
He climbs the tallest
to recall his vantage
point in orbit.
The ghost of Yuri Gagarin
returns to Клу́шино
and reminisces with his
Muscovite brethren.
They recall
the good old days.
They wait patiently,
and they see what
the future
holds.
Personified River
Linda Dallimore
The ghost of Yuri Gagarin

ISSUE IV 21
West of the Milky Way, South of
the Clouds
Emerald Liu
A silhouette reclines in a worn-out retro webbed chair
tracing kinetic shadows
scattered across the abandoned terrace tiles
As the scenery of dusk sets into a jade studded
lacquered night
Lemonade sips leave a fugitive tang on the tongue
knowing the time zone you frequent comes closer to a rising dawn
where dew drops osculate the soft to deep pink petals
of wild camellia shrubs
that brush beside assorti swirls of polka dots on your chiffon dress
as you drink your sweet Azuki shake
gazing over Yuan Yang rice terraces’ liquid mirror surfaces
that reflect abstract fragments of the night
Separately we find ourselves sharing the same celestial scene
as the Milky Way cuts through the Summer Triangle
like a voluptuous barrier
Stimulating a thirst for saline drops
that touch the curve of your cupid’s bow
more intimately
than any simple tangent could
Pressing your lips to the glass’s edge
The venation of its imprint leaves an all too familiar pattern
of taste and touch tied in stardust

22 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Demodex
Morgan Rondinelli
You have mites on your face. Yes,
you. Nearly 100% of humans do. We are
inoculated shortly after birth, by our mothers
or those otherwise in closest proximity
to us. This gift of mites has been given for
thousands of generations, likely since before
we were considered modern Homo
sapiens. The mites are called Demodex,
species names D. folliculorum and D. brevis.
If you take a plastic slide and scrape
it along your nose or eyebrows, and then
put the oils and dead skin under a microscope,
with a good eye and a bit of luck,
you can see these mites for yourself. They
have eight legs, like all mites, which are
technically arachnids, cousins of spiders
and ticks. But rather than thin, long legs
like a spider, Demodex have fat, stubby
legs attached to their fat, little bodies.
They use these to grasp onto a hair, the
rest of their body sticking slightly out of
the follicle. They’re honestly kind of cute.
I know this, not from seeing Google
images of Demodex, though I’ve seen
plenty of those too, but from seeing my
own Demodex mite. We did this as a lab
exercise in my undergraduate Ecology of
Human Parasites class. We had dissected
worms and fish, but this is the lab I
remember most. Dr. Chelsea Wood stood
at the front of the lab room showing us
images of what we should be looking for
amongst our own skin. Then, she walked
around checking everyone’s microscopes
when they thought they had found one.
We all stayed hovered over our microscopes,
only taking breaks to scrape more
dead skin onto a slide, both excited and
disgusted about the prospect of seeing a
mite from our own faces. Suddenly, I saw
legs. Eight legs and a tube-like body. And
then I excitedly bumped my microscope
out of focus. I had likely found Demodex,
and then I had lost it. Carefully, I zoomed
out. I scrolled back and forth and back and
forth, and was able to relocate the mite. I
sighed with relief, though more carefully
this time so as not to hit the microscope
again. I raised my hand and ushered over
Dr. Wood. She looked down the lens for
a few seconds while I waited anxiously.
So often, we thought we had identified a
specimen, but when Dr. Wood checked,
really it was just an air bubble. But Dr.
Wood then confirmed, “Yep! You found
one.” She brought my slide up to her more
powerful microscope to take some nice
pictures. My classmates each took turns
looking at my Demodex. Though the prevalence
rate on humans is estimated in the
upper nineties, I was the only one in my
class to find a mite. It’s a bit of a blind
search to go through random dead skin
on a microscope slide. But finding one of
my own Demodex mites earned me ten
bonus points towards the final exam, so I
didn’t mind. My classmates insisted that I
name the lone mite. We named it Jimmy.
As a biologist, I know there is life
on me and within me, and I mean that
literally. Besides mites like Demodex, I am
home for a multitude of bacteria. They live
in my gut, between my teeth, on my skin.
My microbiome is everywhere I am. The
bacteria in my digestive system are part

ISSUE IV 23
of my digestive system. Like a termite
relying on its protozoans and the bacteria
within those organisms to digest the
wood it eats into sugar, I need my own
bacteria for successful digestion. An infant’s
gut microbiome and immune system
development can be influenced by
whether they were born vaginally or by
Caesarean section, and what initial bacteria
they encountered during birth. As
soon as we enter the world, we are bombarded
with bacteria fighting to make us
home. And all those years later, we can
still see the early signs of worlds colliding.
Demodex mites live in a world different
from our own though. It is a scale of
giant hairs and deep pores. That is their
food, the dead skin and sebum coming off
our faces. And, I don’t know how to put
this poetically, but Demodex mites don’t
have an anus. They eat and eat these
pieces of you and then die full of you, full
of your cells and your being. Until they
explode and now your face is covered in
mite poop. Or I guess, parts of yourself
turned into mite poop.
To my microbiome, I am a great
home. I provide them food and shelter,
and the bacteria in return provide things
like digestion and protection from harmful
bacteria. The same goes for larger organisms,
like my Demodex mites. Some biologists
argue Demodex mites aren’t even
parasites since they hardly affect me or
my fitness, aside from being suspected
to occasionally cause skin conditions, like
rosacea. Perhaps it’s just commensalism,
a positive-neutral relationship. The Demodex
benefit, and I, the human, am unaffected.
Ecological relationships and terms
like parasitism are less clear cut than you
would think. Still, the Demodex mites are
always with me. When I crack open a new
book or when I lie down on my pillow for
a nap or when I snuggle against my cat
or when I put in a load of laundry or when
I reach up to scratch my face, they are
always there. (I bet you’re scratching your
face now.) The vastness of it all makes me
feel a bit powerful though. Suddenly, rather
than a small, lonely human on a vast
planet, I am the world for a small, lonely
mite.
As scientists, we are often taught
to remove loveliness from our work. This
is true in writing, especially. Though there
is creativity in the research process, the
written word must be bland, straightforward,
explicit. Loveliness can be distracting,
so get straight to the point. This
conflict between my two selves, one analytical
and one who wants more loveliness
in the world, constantly meets its
maker. Science is lovely though. And scientific
words can roll with pleasure off the
page and tongue: Pathogen; prehensile.
Osmosis; organelle. Gamete; guanine.
Deciduous; Demodex. Dēmós meaning
fat. Dēx meaning wood worm. In the Domain
Eukaryota. Kingdom: Animalia. Arthropoda,
Cheliceria, Arachnida, Acari,
Trombidiformes, Demodicidae, Demodex
folliculorum.
Science is lovely when I smell
freshly cut grass, or hear the buzz of a
honeybee. With cut grass, you are really
smelling airborne green leaf volatiles, a
carbon-based compound. It’s the individual
pieces of grass using pheromones to
communicate with blades and plants farther
away. Fortify yourself, danger is coming!
Though the messengers cannot run
away or save themselves, grass still try to
warn their compatriots. The mental image
of these floating pheromones is both
heroic and sad. The distant grass is only
expecting insects, and time to prepare a
defense, not an all too nearby gas lawnmower.
Their efforts are futile, and they

24 SIENNA SOLSTICE
too will soon smell of freshly cut grass.
The buzz of a honeybee brings to
mind their complex social structure. There
are numerous rankings and jobs within a
hive, the most basic division being into
female queen, female workers, and male
drones. But even deeper, workers have
countless jobs, from raising young bees
to doting on the queen to cleaning the
hive. All members are geared, or at least
all the female workers, towards protecting
the queen and the longevity of the
hive. This makes sense if you look at their
genetic makeup. Unfertilized eggs, only
one gamete, develop as males. These
drones have two goals: eat and mate. On
the other hand, fertilized eggs develop
as females. Worker females, sister bees,
share far more genetic material with one
another than biological human siblings.
Sister bees are 75% related, to our 50%,
so they are even more inclined to protect
one another.
Scientists rigorously debate if altruism
exists. Like sister honeybees, nearby
blades of grass are closely related, so it
makes sense that they would try to warn
their cousins. If I can’t survive, maybe you
can, and you will carry on our common
genes. Of course, grass does not have
a brain. No blade has ever thought this
through. It’s simply that those historic
grass blades who warned their cousins,
passed on their genes. Bees do have
brains, but I highly doubt they run a probability
calculation when feeding their
queen. This is all merely a statistical game
for scientists to play. Many scientists assert
that there is no such thing as true
altruism, that all acts of care stem from
this game of still trying to ensure the longevity
of your own genes. Whether bees
or grass or humans, it is a selfish act. We
must expect an act of care in return. I help
you, you help me. But I don’t buy this for a
minute. Maybe we are sometimes unconsciously
helping blood relatives for this
reason, but that can’t be the only reason.
And help transcends families, species
even. Dolphins have been known to circle
and protect human swimmers from nearby
sharks. Surely, our genetic relationship
to dolphins is distant enough that it’s just
out of compassion. I will even settle for it
being curiosity. What could the dolphins
possibly expect in return? Even among
organisms less developed neurologically,
care must be innate.
Sometimes in science we are inclined
to remove loveliness from the
world. We can lose the forest for the trees,
so to speak, and see only trees trying to
ensure their genetic survival. Or only the
species diversity makeup of a forest. Or
only the chemical structure of a yellowing,
fall leaf. Science is lovely though. The
unwavering presence of Demodex mites
on my skin provides an odd form of reassurance:
I am never alone. There will always
be a mite munching on me, helping
recycle the cells I shed, probably until the
day I die. I merely give the mites food and
a warm home. They give me a constant.
Isn’t that just a more obscure form of altruism?
Maybe only to a poet.

ISSUE IV 25
Kinetic Tapsety
Aaron Lelito

26 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Franklin Carmichael Of The Group Of
Seven Using Duct Tape For The First Time
Colin James
Tuesday was essentially a washout.
Can’t say enough about
those student volunteers.
I just sat there dreaming
in vernacular strokes.
From the side rhetorically,
I may appear thoughtful.

ISSUE IV 27
SONG FOR STANDING BELLS
Robert Fanning
What’s left of every word is bone and shell.
Etched husks, wind-hewn, deserted instruments
we ring with breath. The body’s empty bell
brims. A tunnel of hum, we rim and spill
through syllables, skimming lines to animate
what’s left. Every word. Bones, shells,
feathers, wave-worn stones. This windfall
hour. The song you hold this moment’s
wearing breath. The body’s empty bell
resounds the notes, vessels cast to spell
what’s missing. Unveiling the whole in fragments.
What’s left if the very world is bone, a shell
drained dry. Your voice divines, a word-drawn well
to reach the remnant sea. To swell the absence
we ring. With breath, the body’s empty bell
flows through interstices, fills every hull
and carapace. Toward nothing. Toward resonance.
What’s left of every word is bone and shell;
we ring with breath the body’s empty bell.

28 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Playmates
Edwin Evans-Thirlwell
assume waver and full
baring of parts sufficient to avoid
unnecessary friction,
don’t forget to describe
the protuberances:
albedo pop-up a crop, fresh
no listless or tangible function,
even the defunct to belong
to an intimate and acceptable
definition,
fragments and components
to be objects in themselves,
a catalogue
of orbits and a diverse range
of ends,
reparation to be conducted
within a scope adequate
to avert cascading
snow or wet sand,
dynamics of loose material,
graze of use,
sidewind and bones
angst upon marble,
voluptuous and insular -
a frill and a thrill
festooned with toggle switches,
emerging
from high life
in milk and honey,
striking the hatch
A Day Refusing To End
Edward Lee

ISSUE IV 29
The Tiniest Suns
Maija Haavisto
it starts by introducing tiny crinkles
on the tops of cookies
some dislike the effect
while others make them
crack intentionally
the ridges spread into faultlines
and continue opening into sinkholes
at that point it’s much too late
you might lose a limb or two
but you don’t even care any more
you’re too busy staring at the static
it’s easy to get lost into it
the intricacy of the blooming pixels
you’re static and it’s not funny
but you laugh anyway
tires pop, eyes pop
once you ...let’s not go there
look mom! no limbs! no head!
the spherical limb fully severed!
no body! no me! just static
that goes bzzzzzz
like a swarm of angry bees
no one’s driving this bike
(but bees! so many bees!)
as it heads into a ditch
where unmanned bikes tend to go
that is where I’d go look
but yeah, there’s nothing to be found
the circuits still bubble up sparkles
and you could stare at them
all day, I think you do
I think that’s where you’ve been
all day
orbiting the tiniest suns
Edward Lee
Another Day, Another Chance

Aaron Lelito is a visual artist from Buffalo,
NY. In his photographic work, he is primarily
drawn to the patterns and imagery of nature.
His images have been published as cover art
in Red Rock Review, Peatsmoke Journal, and
The Scriblerus. His work has also appeared in
LandLocked Magazine, EcoTheo Review, About
Place Journal, and Alluvian. He is editor in chief
of the art & literature website Wild Roof Journal.
See more of his work on Instagram @runic_ruminations.
Andre F. Peltier (he/him) is a Lecturer III at
Eastern Michigan University where he teaches
literature and writing. He lives in Ypsilanti,
MI, with his wife and children. His poetry has
recently appeared in various publications like
CP Quarterly, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Version
9 Magazine, About Place, Novus Review,
Wingless Dreamer, and Fahmidan Journal, and
most recently he has had a poem accepted by
Lavender and Lime Literary. In his free time, he
obsesses over soccer and comic books.
Colin James has a couple of chapbooks of poetry
published. Dreams Of The Really Annoying
from Writing Knights Press and A Thoroughness
Not Deprived of Absurdity from Piski’s Porch
Press and a book of poems, Resisting Probability,
from Sagging Meniscus Press. Formally
from the UK he now lives in Massachusetts.
Edward Lee is an artist and writer from Ireland.
His paintings and photography have been exhibited
widely, while his poetry, short stories,
non-fiction have been published in magazines
in Ireland, England and America, including The
Stinging Fly, Skylight 47, Acumen and Smiths
Knoll. He is currently working on two photography
collections: ‘Lying Down With The Dead’
and ‘There Is A Beauty In Broken Things’. He
also makes musical noise under the names
Ayahuasca Collective, Orson Carroll, Lego Figures
Fighting, and Pale Blsond Boy. His blog/
website can be found at https://edwardmlee.
wordpress.com
Edwin Evans-Thirlwell (he & him) is the London-based
peddler of cardboard solar systems,
playable gardens, boxed cats, poetic FAQs and
bad fables about the ugliness of eating. His longer
projects include a verse response to NA-
SA’s Golden Record. He also writes videogame
criticism for places like Edge, Wired and Heterotopias.
One of these days he’ll realise that
this was all a terrible mistake. Any day now.
Emerald Liu is a Sino-Belgian writer who has
previously written for The Millions, Drawing
Matter, and Far-Near amongst many others.
Her poetry has been featured in group art exhibitions
in Antwerp and NYC, you can find her
poems in Verses Magazine, Superfroot, Giallo
Lit, etc. She is currently the Poetry + Prose editor
of Asians In The Arts.
J. Villanueva is a Chicano writer/poet from
deep south Texas. When he is not agonizing
in front of his computer, he is building and riding
his motorcycles. He currently has work(s)
forthcoming in Alebrijes Review. He is currently
an MFA student at the University of Texas-Rio
Grande Valley. You can follow him on Twitter @
Jay_theaztec.
Linda Dallimore is an emerging composer and
flutist hailing from Auckland, New Zealand. She
loves writing music for orchestras and chamber
ensembles. Her music explores textures,
colours, and often draws inspiration from personal
experiences, the environment, and social
and political topics. Linda’s music has
been played by the New Zealand Symphony
Orchestra, Rhode Island Philharmonic, Albany
(NY) Symphony Orchestra, Auckland Philharmonia
Orchestra, Ensemble Klangrauschen,
B3:Brouwer Trio and the Aspen Contemporary
Ensemble. Linda completed a Master of Musical
Arts in composition at Yale School of Music
in 2021, studying with Christopher Theofanidis
and Martin Bresnick. As an alumna of Berklee
College of Music, Linda majored in composition
and flute performance. She is a member of the
Composers Association of New Zealand and
represented by SOUNZ centre for New Zealand
Music and APRA AMCOS.

Maija Haavisto is a poet, novelist, medical
writer, artist and disability activist. She has had
17 books published in Finland, including the poetry
collections Raskas vesi (Aviador 2018) and
Hopeatee (Oppian 2020). In English her poetry
has appeared or is forthcoming in e.g. Cosmospen,
Topical Poetry, Littoral, ShabdAaweg Review,
Asylum, Eye to the Telescope, Shoreline
of Infinity and Kaleidoscope. Find her on Twitter:
http://www.twitter.com/DiamonDie She
also has poetry readings available on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/user/DiamonDie
Mina Hyeon was born in Seoul, South Korea,
and spent years in the States. Her early experience
of diverse cultures became a seed for
her to understand the world better. She has
loved playing video games and reading sci-fi/
detective novels since she was seven years old.
Enthusiasm in understanding humans and storytelling
led her to major in film&theater, and
after years of field experience, she started her
MFA study in multimedia at Korea National
University of Arts. Working in the XR industry
as a co-founder/producer of GiiÖii immersive
storytelling studio, she won awards at global
film festivals such as SXSW with her XR projects.
She is developing her art in the theme of
a ‘multiverse traveler,’ which aims to seek the
potential of the virtual environment as a physical
space and an extended sensory receptor of
ourselves using AI, XR, generative art form.
Robert Fanning is the author of six poetry
collections, including four full-length collections:
Severance (Salmon Poetry, Ireland, 2019),
Our Sudden Museum (Salmon Poetry, Ireland,
2017), American Prophet (Marick Press, 2009),
and The Seed Thieves (Marick Press, 2006), as
well as two chapbooks: Sheet Music (Three
Bee Press, 2016), and Old Bright Wheel (Ledge
Press Poetry Award, 2001). His poems have appeared
in Poetry, Ploughshares, Shenandoah,
Gulf Coast, THRUSH, Waxwing, The Atlanta
Review, and many other journals. A graduate of
the University of Michigan and Sarah Lawrence
College, he is a Professor of Creative Writing
at Central Michigan University. He is also the
Founder and Facilitator of the Wellspring Literary
Series, and the Founder and Director
of PEN/INSULA POETRY, a site for Michigan
poets. He lives with his wife, sculptor Denise
Whitebread Fanning, and their two children.
Stephanie Alishan is a London-born Armenian
artist and writer working primarily in film,
photography and immersive installation. With
a background in Veterinary Science, Alishan’s
work is rooted in the physical form: desolate
contorted bodies and immense natural landscapes.
Exploring themes of intimacy, sexuality
and loss, her work centres around the need
for confession, especially in terms of the female
experience. Having exhibited work internationally
between London and Guatemala, Alishan
produces work in a variety of traditional media,
always pushing the limits on what can be
achieved through solely analog materials such
as film, photographic emulsion and projection
integrated with her writings. @stephalishanstudio
Varvara & Mar is an artist duo formed by Varvara
Guljajeva and Mar Canet in 2009. Often
duo’s work is inspired by the information age. In
their practice, they confront social changes and
the impact of the technological era. The artist
duo has exhibited their art pieces in a number
of international shows and festivals. Varvara &
Mar has exhibited at MAD in New York, FACT in
Liverpool, Santa Monica in Barcelona, Barbican
and V&A Museum in London, Onassis Cultural
Centre in Athens, Ars Electronica museum
in Linz, ZKM in Karlsruhe, etc. Varvara (born in
Tartu, Estonia), holds the position of Assistant
Professor in Computational Media and Arts at
the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology
(GZ). Previously she has held a position
at the Estonian Academy of Arts. Mar (born in
Barcelona) is a Ph.D. candidate and Cudan research
fellow at the Baltic Film, Media and Arts
School in Tallinn University, focusing on AI and
interactive art. Link: www.var-mar.info