KNACK Magazine #70 by KNACK Magazine

KNACK

Do not let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do. - John Wooden

KNACK Magazine is dedicated to showcasing the work of artists of all mediums, and to discuss trends and ideas of art communities. KNACK Magazine’s

ultimate

aim

is to connect and inspire e m e r g i n g a r t i s t s , w o r k i n g a r tists and established artists. We strive to create a place for artists, writers, designers, thinkers, and innovators to collaborate and produce a unique, informative, and unprecedented web-based art magazine each month.

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES PHOTOGRAPHERS, GRAPHIC DESIGNERS & STUDIO ARTISTS: 10-12 high resolution images of your work. All should include pertinent caption information (name, date, medium, year). WRITERS: You may submit up to 3,000 words and as little as one. We accept simultaneous submissions. No cover letter necessary. All submissions must be 12pt, Times New Roman, single or double-spaced with page numbers and include your name, e-mail, phone number, and genre. KNACK seeks writing of all kinds. We will even consider recipes, reviews, and essays. We seek writers whose work has a distinct voice, is character driven, and is subversive but tasteful. ALL SUBMISSIONS: KNACK encourages all submitters to include a portrait, a brief biography, which can include; your name, age, current location, awards, contact information, etc. (no more than 250 words). And an artist statement (no more than 500 words). We believe that your perspective of your work and process is as lucrative as the work itself. This may range from your upbringing and/or education as an artist, what type of work you produce, inspirations, etc. If there are specifications or preferences concerning the way in which your work is to be displayed please include them. Please title files for submission with the name of the piece. This applies for both writing and visual submissions. *PLEASE TITLE FILES FOR SUBMISSION WITH THE NAME OF THE PIECE. THIS APPLIES FOR BOTH WRITING AND VISUAL SUBMISSIONS.

EMAIL: KNACKMAGAZINE1@GMAIL.COM SUBJECT: SUBMISSION [PHOTOGRAPHY, STUDIO ART, CREATIVE WRITING, GRAPHIC DESIGN] ACCEPTABLE FORMATS: IMAGES: .PDF, .TIFF, OR .JPEG WRITTEN WORKS: .DOC, .DOCX, AND .RTF

REVIEWS

KNACK Magazine is requesting material to be reviewed. Reviews extend to any culture related event that may be happening in your community. Do you know of an exciting show or exhibition opening? Is there an art collective in your city that deserves some press? Are you a musician, have a band, or are a filmmaker? Send us your CD, movie, or titles of upcoming releases which you’d like to see reviewed in KNACK Magazine. We believe that reviews are essential to creating a dialogue about the arts. If something thrills you, we want to know about it and share it with the KNACK Magazine community—no matter if you live in the New York or Los Angeles, Montreal or Mexico. All review material can be sent to knackmagazine1@gmail.com. Please send a copy of CDs and films to 4319 N. Greenview Ave, Chicago, IL 60613. If you would like review material returned to you include return postage and packaging. Entries should contain pertinent details such as name, year, release date, websites and links (if applicable). For community events we ask that information be sent up to two months in advance to allow proper time for assignment and review. We look forward to seeing and hearing your work.

EDITORS & STAFF Andrea Catalina Vaca Co-Founder, Publisher, Editor-In-Chief, Artist Coordinator, Digital Operations, Photographer, Designer, Circulation Director, Production Manager, Business Manager Jonathon Duarte Co-Founder, Creative Director Ariana Lombardi Co-Founder, Executive Editor, Artist Coordinator, Writer Chelsey Alden Editor, Writer Fernando Gaverd Digital Operations, Designer Benjamin Smith Designer Curtis Mueller Editor

Front & Back Cover Design: Andrea Catalina Vaca First Spread Design & Photography: Andrea Catalina Vaca & A.C. Vaca Photography Last Spread Photography: A.C. Vaca Photography Magazine Design: Andrea Catalina Vaca

CONTENTS 10

Artist Biographies

FEATURED ARTISTS 24 30 16 Zaam Arif

Ivory Bennett

Dan Bucko

Julie Hamel

Pranjit Sarma

KNACK Magazine, Issue #70

ARTIST BIOGRAPH Zaam Arif is an American-Pakistani contemporary artist residing and working in Houston, Texas. Arif is currently pursuing his BFA in Design but has been taught and been an apprentice of his artist father, for several years. Arif’s work has been published across many platforms, most recent being “Gulf Stream Magazine” in Miami, Florida and “The Gasher Journal” in Boulder, Colorado. Email: zaam.artist@gmail.com Website: www.zaamarif.com

HIES Ivory Bennett (she/her) is a 30-year-old published millennial currently working in Dallas, Texas. She is a former foster youth with 17 years of lived experience. Bennett also has Type 1 Diabetes (also known as Juvenile Diabetes) – a motivating factor behind her passion for the healing potential and power of art, especially writing. She credits art, a love of learning, and a passion for literacy to her success. Bennett has a Bachelor of Arts dual degree from The University of Pittsburgh in Africana Studies and English Literature with a minor in Theatre Arts (Performance). She also has a Master of Education Administration. She is an aspiring Doctoral student. Currently, she is a dual-accredited English teacher and cheer coach at a Title 1 Collegiate Academy. Outside of work, she has a strong commitment to education equity and foster care advocacy. Bennett loves to travel internationally, try new vegan dishes, and tend to her plant-babies. Bennett eagerly awaits the arrival of her fiancé from Nigeria and their new Lhasa Apso puppy, Bella.

Julie Hamel is a multidisciplinary maker working with photographic media that speaks of loss and memory. She frequently uses what’s found in nature to highlight the distance in human interactions, marking the importance of the connections and the emotional effects of separation. Hamel received her BFA with honors in photography, and a fellowship from the University of New Hampshire in 2010. After living in the South and Rocky Mountains, she returned to New England and now resides in Loudon, New Hampshire. She received her MFA in Visual Arts from Lesley University College of Art + Design, Cambridge, MA in 2021. Hamel has won numerous awards and has shown across the United States, Canada, and internationally including Italy, Budapest, Greece, and England. Website: www.juliehamelphotography.com Instagram: juliehamel_inprogress

Dan Bucko is a San Diego based photographer and professional creative. He works days as a Creative Director, producing and orchestrating advertising and marketing collateral for corporate America. His real passion is photography, a rekindled love affair originally discovered in high school with black and white film. After sidestepping into a music career in the 90’s, Bucko is back in the visual space 24/7. With the digital image revolution, Bucko reconnected with photography. He shoots with a Canon 5D IV and a Fuji XT3 converted to super Infrared by Life Pixel. The beach, the city, the mountains and the desert are all close in San Diego and Bucko is out a couple times a week looking for new compositions. Bucko is a member of a few local photo groups including the San Diego Photo Club and shoots with other fellow photographers around town. This is Bucko’s first art submission. Bucko lives with his wife Kathy, daughter Zoe and son Jack who all support his quest to continue to grow as a photographer and visual storyteller. Email: dbuckopc@gmail.com Website: www.buckocreative.com Instagram: danbuckophotography

Pranjit Sarma is an innovative practitioner who focuses on natural interpretation and diverse social approach. He is from the diverse land of North-East India, a spectacular expression of many communities and tribes with 270 regional languages. Sarma was brought up among these many different communities, such as Mising, Bodo, Garo, Dimasa, and Kasari. This gave him a unique perspective to understand the different ways these communities interpret and identify their self ethics of living. Sarma is a printmaker, working with aquatint etchings.

Zaam ARIF My goal is to explore existentialist experiences of the layman, the experiences that we tend to hide. I confront these experiences with a penetrating interpretation of human nature, transforming them into a visceral reality. My work is a manifestation of my understanding of the contemporary human condition along with insights garnered from my study of classical literature and psychology. I am adamant in exploring the harsher truths and inner conflicts of this day and age using visual contrast, whether through color, lack thereof, or the medium itself to express it.

The Immigrant, Oil on Linen, 2021

Study of Sartre I Oil on Linen on Panel 2021

Study of Sartre II Oil on Linen on Panel 2021

Les Fumeurs, Oil on Canvas, 2021

The Wait, Oil on Canvas, 2021

Study of Albert Camus 9 Series Oil on Canvas 2021

Untitled, Oil on Linen on Panel, 2021

Study of a Stranger, Oil on Linen on Panel, 2021

Ivory BENNETT If pain is sometimes a recipe for disaster and destruction, then writing is the medicine that we all need to reconcile our wounds and poetry is the salve for our souls. I truly believe that there is so much healing to be had through the repurposing of our pain.

Truly, I believe that the 2020’s is the second New Negro Movement. And I want to be legendary like Zora Neale Hurston, James Baldwin, Alice Dunbar Nelson, Claude McKay, and Langston Hughes, just to name a few. Notedly, I think it is critical to continue the works of giants like Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, Alice Walker, Amari Baraka, Gwendolyn Brooks, and Nikki Giovani. Moreover, I cannot forgo mentioning the beautiful inspiration of Khalil Gibran, Rupi Kaur, Rumi, Ntozake Shange, Nayyirah Waheed, and Edwidge Danticat. All these incredible writers have shown me that the possibilities are infinite and that writing is limitless. The marathon must continue – and I am ready to run!

My life is a clear indication that not all pain leads to destruction and that pain, when aligned with the right tools, can also generate a great sense of positive passion and powerful purpose. I write to give voice to the ancestors who stand behind me. I write to give direction to the descendants who will come after me. And I write to make sense of myself, my experiences, and the world around me. I hope to liberate others with my words. I hope to heal others with my stories. And I hope to illuminate untapped potentials hidden deep within people who are often overlooked with my imaginings. I hope to make people feel loved, feel seen, feel heard, feel supported, and find healing through my works.

Because I’m Free June 18th, 2016 @ 10:47 AM Now I ain’t never been loved by anyone the way I done loved myself. And that ain’t selfish… it’s self-full. I wanna be – I need ta be complete in this world because I’m alone. And I can’t only be half of me – I need all of me and alla my soul. Ya eva’ wonder why you cain’t sleep at night. You feel uncomfortable. It’s dem scars. Dem scars you carry on your back. Dem scars dat dripped your ancesta’s blood. They get ta itchin’ cause you got your freedom. Ya got y’own freedom – but, you ain’t even free. They died for you and you ain’t even free. You eva’ wonder why people don’t talk about their pain? I read pain – I see it in peoples’ eyes. I hear it in they voice – the way they laugh when they get nervous or the way they croon when they recall a mem’ry. I see it in the fingers of the barber down the street… his fingers know pain. They know the pain and death of flesh… they know pleasure, too – but, they know more hurt than anything. Yeah, I know pain. I done made love to pain. And freedom, too. Black men are so strong and so beautiful. I hate that they can’t see that. And I hate that they cain’t see that black womens is the only ones who see it. We see it and we love them, still.

Immigration September 20th, 2017 @ 9:49 AM My great grandmother was known to make mountains of molehills. Out in the desert, she would say, is where the possibilities are endless. When the sun set, the moon gave way to a new place, a new time – time was measured in sunsets and moons. She knew every constellation. In the city, I saw her eyes fill with winter. Cold, she would always be searching for the sun and the moon above the towering buildings. She missed her friends in the sky and would reach for them in the night with her fingertips. She would tell me, “When I die, take me home. Take me back to my country and spread me across the land.”

Dear DACA September 12th, 2017 @ 10:55 AM An old man once told me about the American dream. He was barefoot and shucking white corn. His back was bent from years of hard work, and his fingers read of routine and war. He told me about borders and bridges, cultures crossing over one another. He told me about jungles and judges – the only difference between the two was one was of God and one wasn’t. He told me about loss and of love, and planting seeds that you may never see grow. He told me about investments in self, and investments in what will come long after you’re gone. He told me to search for my purpose with my fingers and with my heart. “The first step,” he said, “is to be courageous and just. That is the only way to start.” This man, he shared with me a dream deferred, as he looked me in my eyes. He told me, “Take action, dear child, and arrive at these things you have heard.”

Rooted Love had rooted itself in every fiber of my being. Passion had become a vine in the deepest chambers of myself. I wondered, “How can I still breathe with all of these ivies clinging to my soul?” My exhale caught me off guard. “Go to the base of the tree. And lie down. Face your palms to the sky. Absorb the sunlight into your melanin. Breathe deeply and feel the grass cradle your curves. Listen to the birds – their song is one of faith and of hope, unseen. Allow your fingertips to dance across the rough bark of its roots; each wave within those timbers reminds you of your own fragility. A fragility necessary for tenderness and growth. Now close your eyes. Breathe, again. And again. Do you feel the earth moving to the drum of your pulse? That’s life. That is love.” It started to rain. And I didn’t mind. Or, move. I let the warmth of the water run over me. In that moment, I felt like every single raindrop falling from the sky onto myself. What magic.

My mother always sang my name when she called me. But, today was different. She could see it. Inside of me. Before I was even aware. I pretended to be preoccupied, so that she would call again. I loved her song. But she waited longer than usual. “Yes, mother? I will be there in a few moments. Please wait.” I needed a moment to gather my thoughts –

they were spread about my room like opened books in a small, dark bedroom. Desperately, I wanted to gather them into my wicker basket and sort them out… into some recognizable manner. “I’m sorry, Mum. I’m not feeling well today. Do you need me to help you with something?” Suddenly, I felt lost again. I closed my eyes, before I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” fell quietly from my lips. “I love you. That is all. Oh... have you seen how beautiful Grandmother’s tree has blossomed this spring? Isn’t it lovely?” Inside of me, I felt the rain falling again. A feeling of fullness made me place one hand over my belly with slight concern. “Yes. Lovely, it is. Does it feel like a storm is coming to you? It feels like a storm is on its way, no?”

I had seen a million mahogany sunsets. But, this one. This one had rippled through me like the loudest crackle of thunder, I’d ever encountered. “Can I touch you? I want to know what it feels like.” “What what feels like?” “To be strong and soft. You’re so beautiful. Can I touch you, please? Just on your shoul-

ders and neck? I promise that’s it.” I let him touch me. His touch never meant much to me. Probably because he bored me. I don’t think he ever felt pain. Or, knew what it meant to burn from the inside out of want. We were in the pumpkin patch. The leaves were glistening with dew. There were droplets of water on my skirt – kind of in the shape of a constellation. I wondered what love felt like without gravity. Was it softer? Easier? “Okay. Okay. That’s enough, let’s get back to work.” It’s not that I wasn’t turned on by his gentle kisses. It’s just that, I wasn’t in love with him. I’d never be. And that was okay with him. He knew. I looked into the blue, cotton-filled sky. I felt both of my palms sink a little deeper into the spongy earth. I exhaled and felt my belly sink in slowly. He knew.

“What are we gonna say?” “Say whatever you’d like. I’m not asking you to lie.” Her knuckles fought hard with the dough. Flour dusted the entire wooden slab. In the window, a sunflower had two tiny droplets on its petals. “Say... I don’t want anyone there. Not even you.” A butterfly flew past the window where the flower rested, opened towards the sun.

“And that may be hard to understand. But I need to do this alone. In private. I love you. I love you all. I just want this one thing for myself.” She wiped the sweat clinging to her chin, onto her right shoulder. She took a deep breath and said, “Hand me that greased pan, will you? I’m going to let this sit for a while. It will rise, eventually.”

Sometimes, when old dogs feel that they are dying, they will wander away to die alone. Death without an audience sounds more dignified, to me, so I thought. I wasn’t so much afraid of dying, as I was of living. There was a time, once, when I was young. We all went swimming. And I was afraid. Afraid of the water, I couldn’t see into it because it was murky. And afraid of the swing people were using for fun. And it’s not that I was fearful of heights. No. I was afraid of the joy I saw on their faces. I didn’t want to ever miss that moment, where joy takes over your being and swallows you up like the light from the sun, when you dare to stare directly at it. If I couldn’t feel that warmth forever, I didn’t want it at all.

Julie HAMEL Human interactions are dynamic and fluid, changing over time. How is it that we can share the same moments and proximate space, but ultimately have different experiences and memories? In my work, I use altered photographic negatives as a medium to highlight the distance in human connections and interactions. My process begins by using film as a proxy for relationships. A pinhole camera exploits long exposures that force the film to be in a state of constant sensitivity, creating images that could not be rendered otherwise. By physically layering two sheets of film together during exposure, I am constructing a connection that inevitably will be severed. I ‘blindly’ adhere remnants from

the body and nature onto the unexposed film, creating intimacy and connection through the sense of physical touch. Remnants attached to the film project onto and block each other, hindering complete exposures. These images, layered and fragmented, often show locations or people that are close to me. At different stages of processing, items degrade and disappear, leaving one to consider what is absent and what is present. Whether they are working together or separately, their creation as a seamless indexical moment references the distance and loss of a past connection. Each empty moment requires the viewer to consider what is missing; like our memories of past conversations, only traces may remain. Opposite Page: Above Image of Altered Negatives 1 & 2 (Oak) Large Format Film with Oak Sapling, Dirt, Tape, Glass and Wood, 2020 Below Altered Negative 1 (Bunny) Large Format Film with Butterfly Wing, Hair, Thread and Tape, 2020

Altered Negative 1 (Leaf), Large Format Film with Leaf and Thread, 2020

Altered Negative 2 (Leaf), Large Format Film, 2020

Altered Negative 1 (Grass) Large Format Film with Grass, Cut Film and Tape 2020

Altered Negative 2 (Grass) Large Format Film 2020

Altered Negative 1 (Hali) Large Format Film with Butterfly Wing, Hair, Old Negative, Thread and Tape 2020

Altered Negative 2 (Hali) Large Format Film 2020

Altered Negative 1 (Oak) Large Format Film with Oak Sapling, Dirt and Tape 2020

Altered Negative 2 (Oak) Large Format Film 2020

Altered Negative 1 (Neighbor) Large Format Film, Seed Pods, Old Negative, Ferns, Thread and Tape

Altered Negative 2 (Neighbor) Large Format Film 2020

Dan BUCKO Ghost Hunting With Infrared

I look for that moment on the edge of the unconscious, between yesterday and forever ago. The forgotten and left behind are barely held together with bent nails and an occasional rusted exoskeleton. Structure is in decay, but texture is in full bloom. Still recognizable remains of past lifetimes. Full color intimidates, so I use infrared. I listen for the echoes of weddings, births, holidays and funerals that are now a faint rustle in tall weeds, squeaky gates and loose boards. As I open the camera shutter I capture a past reality that old souls spent a lifetime navigating. I go slowly but I only have an afternoon, just hoping some spirit will reveal itself.

All photos: FujiFilm XT3 mirrorless DSLR converted by Life Pixel with 18mm-135mm XF FujiFilm lens Old 395 Highway Mid-August 2020

Fading Glory Abandoned In The Sierra Foothills

Bodie Speedway

Clockwise: Cart And Post Last Stand Closed

Previous Page: Wheelbarrow On Main Street

Latched Gate

Praise Waiteth For Thee

Wood Wagon

Wind Through Weeds

Next Page: View Of Mono Lake

Pranjit SARMA My works are a metaphoric representation of the social-political chaos of Northeast Indian states realized visually. I tend to portray the superfluous power structure and its effects through the symbolic presentation on the issues related to the innocent inhabitants and tribes of my land, who have not received judicial proclamations for their problems. Therefore, my works speak loudly about the sufferings of the people and tribes from the hegemonic political discourses, intending to recover their muted voices.

the printing medium. My works dwell between the questions of various perspectives of the society I belong to, and my acceptance of this social perception. These issues are deeply rooted in my psyche, which guides me in the process of understanding myself, as the situation of my soil is undergoing through visual imagination. As brought up by a strong mother, I am so much aware of the emotional and mental stages of childbirth, nourishment and attachment. But at the same time I am also intertwined by the patriarchy of the society we live in. Gender biasness and equality play a dominant role in a few of my works in order to pay homage and gratitude to motherhood which has been occasionally overshadowed by patriarchy.

As an artist, I tend to follow a documentary approach on one hand, and a psychoanalytical approach on the other—not to reform the subjects, but to capture them through

Inner Shelter 40cm x 35cm Etching and Aquatint 2021

Untitled, 60cm x 120cm, Etching and Aquatint, 2018

A Tribute to the Motherhood 3 65cm x 65cm Etching and Aquatint 2020

Inner Shelter 3, 45cm x 60cm, Etching and Aquatint, 2018

Untitled 30cm x 90cm Etching and Aquatint

Untitled 18cm x 30cm Etching and Aquatint

A Spirit of Motherhood 60cm x 45 cm Etching and Aquatint 2020

Untitled, 45cm x 60cm, Etching and Aquatint, 2018

Untitled 60cm x 45cm Etching and Aquatint 2019

Untitled, 60cm x 30cm, Etching and Aquatint, 2019

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