Author: Sabina Smith, age 15. When I first read June Jordan’s “Poem about My Rights,” it was the first day of spring break. Conferences had just ended and I was sitting at a coffee shop next to Expedition Press with my friend. We saw Myrna and she invited us over. On her wall in the shop there was a copy of the poem tacked up. I began reading the poem because it caught my interest, and I still can’t fully describe how powerful it felt, so full of emotion and honestly, I’d never read anything more mesmerizing.
ABC, 123: planning out the On Edge art installation to scale. Recently I was interviewed by a 13 yr old who asked me what the hardest part of my job is. “Time!” I said immediately. “Good lord, time management. Knowing what to prioritize when.” A week prior a journalist asked me about my relationship to time as if I knew some secret about detaching from the fast-paced pressures of the digital
New artwork is taking over my shop! Show opens May 31 in Seattle. A year ago, at a windy roadside stop in South Dakota with a couple flickering bars of reception, I checked my email. There was a message from the manager of a gallery in downtown Seattle, whom I’d met at a couple openings. She was wondering whether I wanted to join next year? I gasped and rubbed the sand out of my eyes, read it again.
From analog to digital and back again, laying out the linocut. I first read the poem “Sweet Darkness” by David Whyte on a Friday, at the end of one of the worst weeks of my life. Husband demanding separation, step daughter screaming, mother gone missing. With rain and wind and a million shouting voices of need all around, I got to those last three lines and the bottom fell out. It was a sucker punch to the gut, aimed straight at all the things I already knew and didn’t want to. anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.”