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- I YELL AT MY DEMONS THROUGH A MEGAPHONE
“AND THE DEMONS SAY HEY WHAT UP I HOPE YOU’RE FEELING SPECTACULAR AND OF COURSE I’M NOT, I’M SCREAMING”
More from the Blog
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I YELL AT MY DEMONS THROUGH A MEGAPHONE
“AND THE DEMONS SAY HEY WHAT UP I HOPE YOU’RE FEELING SPECTACULAR AND OF COURSE I’M NOT, I’M SCREAMING”
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Planetary Excursion
Originally from New York, Emily Zweibel is a self-taught analog collage artist based in Mexico City. Her work explores the surreal landscapes that exist just beneath the surface of the everyday. She juxtaposes dualities — whimsy and foreboding, fragmentation and synthesis, mundane and extraordinary — to create a strange familiar, inviting you to find the…
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Psychic Readings
“Rumours bred like mosquitos in stagnant water. Some said the new Greene was a ghost—that they had died in those woods and decided to haunt the town as revenge. Some said they were possessed by spirits or demons who used their child body to enact their devilish plans.”
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Universal Joy
Jacqueline W. is a Black collage artist residing in Philadelphia, PA. Her work focuses on surreal scenes and dreamlike states that feel new, yet somehow familiar. Her goal in any work she creates is for the viewer to rest their eyes on the image and get lost in a new world for a spell.
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AN ALIEN’S GUIDE TO GETTING OUT OF HERE
“An orange sky, a rounded landscape, the architecture familiar and comforting. Everything you touch there touches you back”
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Errands Vivid
Originally from New York, Emily Zweibel is a self-taught analog collage artist based in Mexico City. Her work explores the surreal landscapes that exist just beneath the surface of the everyday. She juxtaposes dualities — whimsy and foreboding, fragmentation and synthesis, mundane and extraordinary — to create a strange familiar, inviting you to find the…
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alert and oriented times four
“feel this city skyline, its beautiful body and us rib-spilt all over the rooftop. tongues groping the distant lights – somewhere, a mother we pretend not to miss.”
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custodian of the breath
“Custodian of the breath whispering through veins and torn toenails put your ear to the dust, i’m told, for it spells our future”
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Sand Beast
“I’ve seen others flame out. Their bodies torched in a moment. A life here, then gone. Protein to ash. That’s how Bet died. I watched him go. Couldn’t even shout his name before he was cinders. Bet was like the sand. He was constant.”