Bee with Cleaver

by Lisa Bergin, based on To Set Before the King by Genevieve Valentine

7” needle-felted bee, made with wool.

This piece will be auctioned off to benefit the Interstitial Arts Foundation at iafauctions.com

Tags: interfictions2auction, interfictions2, interstitialartsfoundation, interstitial, doll, handcrafted, genevievevalentine, tosetbeforetheking
Uploaded: October 30, 2009
View this photo on Flickr

0 comments

No comments for this photo. Add a comment >

The Interfictions 2 Auction

slideshow
View this photo on Flickr

    IAFAuctions.com is part of the fundraising arm of the Interstitial Arts Foundation, a not–for–profit organization dedicated to the study, support, and promotion of interstitial art.

    IAF Photostream
    C. Jane Washburn - The Child Empress of Mars The Long and the Short of Long-Term Memory Book The Beauty of Strange Stories by Mia Nutick The Animometer [redacted] (series of 4) Vision Imagination Dream and Memory The Child Empress of Mars A Drop of Raspberry Valentines The Quiz
    View more photos >
    A Taste of Interfictions 2
    • “She came back and opened the door, was rather amazed that the courier was still standing there. The agent raised her arm and tazered the courier's face. Wasn't a clean shot; the stinger punctured her cheek, straight through. The courier fell back and the agent kicked the package through her apartment door, rubbing the arm brace where her tazer was attached. She then unhooked the wire, which would dissolve in about an hour. Kneeling down to the courier she said, "I warned you. It's my risk. It's my package. Why should you give a ---- if I get blown up by it? I have no family left to sue you. And you can ---- your Lord, you ----ing hear me?" She stood up and rolled the courier into the freight elevator, and pressed Down.

      She decided she needed wine before opening the package.”
      From: (*_*?) ~~~~ (-_-) : The Warp and the Woof by Alan DeNiro
    • “I was dead, now I'm alive. That's the first thing you need to know. We'll come back to that later. The second thing you need to know is there are no metaphors in this story. Everything is true. If there's a third thing, and usually there is, it would be that I love lists probably more than I should.”
      From: Some Things About Love, Magic, and Hair by Chris Kammerud
    • “October evening, 1969. Golden leaves spiral down. Johnny tries to catch one. His fingers touch the whisper of leaf but close on air. It doesn’t matter. He spins across the yard, dodging gold bullets. He’s hit! He’s hit! He falls to the ground, rolling in leaf, grass, sticks and dirt. In the distance, a dog barks. The boy lies still, arms spread, legs at odd angles. Dead. He is dead when the car pulls up in front of his house. Heart beating wild from all his spinning, he is dead, trying to still his breath when the doors slam shut and shoes click up the sidewalk, dead when a man’s voice says, “Mrs. Harlyle?” dead when his mother screams, a siren-sound that falls to the ground like leaves. The boy is dead when he opens his eyes, looks at the sky, darkly now. Dead as he lays there, waiting for God, angel, or ghost. Dead as one leaf spiral-lands on his cheek.”
      From: The Beautiful Feast by M. Rickert
    • “It had been forty-six years since Dunbar had visited the moon. He stood in his bathrobe at the scenic window taking in the view. The black sky, the craters, the landscape were exactly as he remembered.
      He cursed.

      Dunbar remembered many things from his past. He remembered his first telephone number. The number of steps from his front door to the playground two blocks over. The exact color of his shirt when he graduated from 6th grade. The words to the poem "Kubla Khan." The way the first car he owned had to be finessed when he shifted from first to third.

      He had come here to study memory so that he could learn how to forget.”
      From: The Long And Short Of Long Term Memory by Cecil Castellucci

    Click here for another excerpt

Powered by the Flickr Photo Album plugin for WordPress.