Heidi

by Sarah B. Evans, based on The Long and the Short of Long-Term Memory by Cecil Castelucci

Glass beads and chain on braided black cords.

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

Tags: interfictions2auction, interfictions2, interstitialartsfoundation, interstitial, jewelry, thelongandtheshortoflongtermmemory, cecilcastelucci
Uploaded: October 31, 2009
View this photo on Flickr

0 comments

No comments for this photo. Add a comment >

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
    Bee with Cleaver Everybody Knows Everybody Knows Timothy by Sarah Evans The Long and the Short of Long-Term Memory Book Prester John by JoSelle Vanderhooft Remembrances The Child Empress of Mars Inwood Hill by K Tempest Bradford Visual Fiction or The Metamorphosis of Vision
    View more photos >
    A Taste of Interfictions 2
    • “I have never noticed until now the tender cut of your jaw, how the skin scoops inwards towards the throat, a reservoir for rain, or honey, or milk. I have never noticed the way your neck quivers next to the jugular. I have never noticed the way your sleep-sigh takes on a musical pattern, moving along in harmonic thirds, as though somewhere, in some dream, people are singing in chords.”
      From: Four Very True Tales by Kelly Barnhill
    • “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
    • “The book is the kind of speculative, sweeping thought-experiment that all the cool physicists are writing these days. I am probably wrong about almost everything. But I hope I'm wrong in the ways that will someday lead us to science. That's exactly what I said to my kid-gloves NPR interviewer, and she seemed, in her throaty, liberal-media way, duly impressed.

      And then I almost kicked a pigeon.”
      From: The Assimilated Cuban's Guide to Quantum Santeria by Carlos Hernandez
    • “Jake Pray may never have had a hit song, but to the latest crop of anti-war protestors, "What We Sing" has the same iconic resonance that "Bring the Boys Home" or "Masters of War" had for their parents. And over three hundred youngbloods turned out for the memorial of this iconoclastic musician, held this past March in Riverside Church.

      Not surprisingly, Pray became a lightning rod for activists across the world when his life ended in Manhattan's "Tombs" detention facility. He was arrested after an incident with police during the anti-war protests this March. The autopsy report declared its findings inconclusive.”
      From: The Score by Alaya Dawn Johnson

    Click here for another excerpt

Powered by the Flickr Photo Album plugin for WordPress.