Bored Wolves

Hands & Feet of Friends & Family is a weave of Helen Korpak’s photocollages and locket-sized literary captions recording closely observed familiar and familial gestures. Granular renderings tenderly taped, Korpak’s collages meld the touching and the wryly humorous, balancing throughout the vulnerability of artist and subjects bonded by essential fondness.

Beginning to look 
I started to notice 
the older I get 
the more I notice 
studying the reproductions 
separating this from that 
noticing the gestures 
feeling the movements 
of the joints—

Designed and typeset with haptic craft by Samuli Saarinen.

In Sleigh Ride, a kinetically wondrous prose tale from poet Joe Fletcher, a father and his convalescing son plunge in carpentered, stallion-drawn sleigh slashing through lush forest, advancing through a sequence of diorama-like settings. The books ten chapters are interspersed with gouache collages by Kraków artist Mikołaj Moskal (REMMUS), rooted and riverine, functioning as curtains swept aside to reveal each chapter of Fletcher’s exhilarating nocturne.

There was a sleigh: jet black and gleaming.

The long steel runners curved at their termini like arabesques of ice. It was too dark to clearly discern the design on its side, but it was intricate, ornate, suggestive of cuneiform and the minarets of Cairo. Two orange lanterns mounted above the driver’s chair were each encircled by a cloud of gnats and moths. Draped in fabulously embroidered saddlecloths, Ajax and Hector stomped the earth.

Given that the only exit from the cellar was the door, hardly wider and taller than a man, I marveled at how father could have extracted his creation from his smithy and pointed it at the forest. But I said nothing as I climbed unaided onto the purple velvet couch.

Heart. Compass, radar detector. Lost and anxious. Parents divorce. Respect the rhythm. Fallen angels, now my stomach is all butterflies.

In his artist’s book My Body Is a Reincarnated Population, Helsinki-based Hong Kong artist Oscar CHAN Yik Long (Melted Stars) embraces the pantheon of reincarnated souls embedded within him through ink-and-wash paintings and distilled capsule texts.

His process was guided by the rolls of a die used to connect individuals he has known and encountered in past lives—parents and siblings, relatives and ancestors, friends and enemies, lovers—to his present-life body. Who formed his throat? Who grew into his tongue? Who paired as lungs? Who became skin, muscle, bone, or blood?

The artist’s efforts were ultimately about a form of spiritual atonement in pursuit of physiological harmony for a body facing numerous afflictions: “Through my artwork, I wanted to let the people within me know that, regardless of the tragedies or conflicts that divided us in the past, I have come to terms with everything that happened between us. I sincerely apologize, I express gratitude, I forgive and send love.”

When living things bloom & molder all in a heartskip, when they expand toward death, this is what worms hear.

Artist’s book of paintings by Mikołaj Moskal: gouache, archival paper elements, simple & meaningful captions. REMMUS is a graft of Podlasie earth-water-sky and Mikołaj’s pigments, heart, and intuition. Designed in close collaboration with graphic artist and designer Kaja Gliwa.

The paintings are bracketed by a poem each by Kuba Niklasiński (“Flows | Flaws”) and Stefan Lorenzutti (“What Worm Heard”), handwritten by Mikołaj in English and Polish.

“Invest in a floating city or gentrify a submerged one.”

Nourhan Maayouf’s I Was Going to Work is a hybrid sci-fi picture book by the Cairo-based artist, in which the proto-cyborg citizens of Happy Land Nation establish new-fashioned diurnal rhythms against the ever-present backdrop of a monorail to nowhere and its pillars, idle and idolatrous.

Across forty-four spreads of what might be thought of as a picture book for adults, Maayouf delves into every aspect of a deeply familiar society in which retrograde devolution is billboarded as reinvention by Orwellian technocrats and speculators.

And yet pockets of the cyborg population continue striving, dreaming, craving, protesting, gleaning, and inventing. For a situation to be bleak, some notion of beauty must remain tenaciously rooted where it matters most.

I am not deep, although my eyes are, like a black sea that has been forgotten, as many have told me.

Noura Alsouma’s zine “Nawar’s Sketchbook” is a liquid lament by the Berlin-based Syrian visual artist and printmaker, riveted to eyes that see and therefore shed tears, channeling the heartfelt exposure of the sketchbooks Noura fills to the bleed.

With a moving text by the artist in the original Arabic, reproduced in her handwriting, as well as in English translation by Suja Sawafta.