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.
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.”
Open, barely. This is one of the two prints I made in Chicago last week. I watched the election results come in with increasing sickness. I went to bed early and woke up numb. The rollercoaster ride since recalls the early days after my brother died: anger, shock, despair, and overall a grand penetrating sense of pure disbelief. It’s this disbelief I’ve been sitting with, and asking after from inside out.
Detail of metal type form from Broken Broadside 1. Words by Cedar Sigo. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my voice as an artist and my role as a publisher: how they inform and whether they inhibit each other. I feel a strong insistence (born of insecurity?) that I should divide these actions and define them. You know, really nail down what it is I’m doing. Then I forget. I keep making things the way it naturally occurs to me, and I watch how these activities of artist and publisher weave together. The most recent overlap is a new series called “Broken Broadsides.”