Paul Stone
M. Roomie
Emily Holland
Bagged Clementines by Paul Stone
Habitat
by M. Roomie
To Deceive the Eye
by Emily Holland
Love you so much it makes me sick /
Come on over and do the twist /
Over-do it and have a fit/ Beat me out of me / She keeps it pumping straight to my heart
— “Aneurysm” by Nirvana
fingers pluck, manipulate metal, string bones / careless fingers, veiny webs. tone so vibrating/discordant it’s euphoric & maybe that’s the point. love you so much it makes me sick, Kurt sings of the time he walked off stage & threw up. have you ever felt out of control, so out of control, so warm & nauseated you thought you would die? sweaty palms, sweat & forearm bruises, & vomit the color of plums. come on over and do the twist, violent movement jerk like love or euphoria or both or maybe love is obsession and maybe obsession dwells beneath dirt blonde bangs covering eyes the shade of lit galaxies. does all love feel this good, does all obsession feel this violent?
over-do it and have a fit, arms littered in tar splotches, fingers over silver strings now the color of rust, of powdered cocoa. maybe to love is to lose control, maybe to lose control is to expire, maybe that’s the point.
keeps it pumping straight to my heart, yellow lights flash & burrow, the summoner leaps in a bleached jumpsuit, a reforming stain. he doesn’t play right anymore & maybe that’s the point and/or he doesn’t care & that’s the point.
beat me out of me, groan / spit / vomit guitar squeals rising across body, squeezing harder
/ tighter / higher / careless. groan/spit/vomit rising how steam stings cold skin, how skin slicks warm brass, bent shoulders, bowing both to the audience and below, below anyone, gods of tar, god of leaving.
come on over and do the twist is an invitation. beat me out of me is a need.
keeps it pumpin' straight to my— how fingers prick nickel / how skin sticks to rust / how the word “how” strings sentences together so they don’t fall out, don’t fall away, so tar flowing through windy sentences doesn’t collapse like tired veins. scream into microphone. splatter spit on sweaty nickel. gaze, eyes momentarily lucid, pricked needle eyes, black like bruises or black like leaving or black like not sleeping, like never sleeping/resting/turning off.
Yorkshire-based artist Paul Stone became a full-time painter in 2008, bringing to his practice a first-class degree in History of Art and a Master’s in Contemporary Fine Art Practice from Sheffield. Working from South Yorkshire, he has developed a sustained and focused body of work, each year building upon an established foundation. Stone specialises in still life painting, drawing on the familiar objects of daily life and presenting them with a distinctly contemporary clarity. Working in oils within a framework of classical realism, he employs controlled light and shadow to articulate surface, texture and spatial presence. His compositions frequently combine fruit and vegetables with carefully selected found objects, lending renewed attention to the ordinary. Plain, often neutral backgrounds serve to isolate these arrangements, directing the viewer’s attention towards form and placement. Composition remains central, informed by an engagement with Spanish and Dutch still life painting of the eighteenth century, alongside later artists such as William Nicholson. His work can be found on his Instagram and can be purchased through Gladwell & Patterson.
Armand Popa is a Bucharest-based artist and producer whose work has evolved from indie-leaning psychedelic rock and shoegaze into a raw, high-energy psychedelic rock sound. Entirely self-produced and shaped by years of writing and producing for other artists, his music is driven by fuzz-drenched guitars and immersive textures, offering a critical view of modern society and its emotional impact. His second album, Fuzz Panic, recorded at Avanpost Studio, marks this shift and is designed for an intense live experience.
Matti Ben-Lev is a queer little guy who thinks his art is important. He has, shockingly, through the power of manipulation convinced some people to also think his art is important. He lives in squalor and shame in a Northern VA townhouse with his partner’s cats.