Our visually saturated, stimulating new issue of Beekiller confections features works from three clear-eyed, courageous photographers, a stolid yet playful painter, a self-devouring poet, a cliff-hanging fictionalist, and several powerful and emotive rock bands.
Alys Kenny endows us with three portraits of young women, in various forms of sun-kissed contemplation. One of the women stares at a space in front of her in a way that is wholly inscrutable and fascinating: does her face communicate sadness, or intense concentration? Two other women may be camping in the woods. Their rumpled, lightly dazed looks suggest a low-key utopian form of being lost.
Paintings by John Ortiz traffic in organic abstraction. Warm colors and generous lines define strong block-right shapes, stacked at angles to keep our expectations grounded but slightly tilting.
Inouk's indie-rock songs are haunting and catchy, paranoid and pastoral, they throb and scrape like a hug from a bony friend.
In her object-studies, Jenifer Arnow places inanimate accessories for human living in weirdly emotional poses, framing them between desolation and comforting familiarity.
In another rare beekiller interview, we quizzed songwritsress Elizabeth Harper about her affinity for rural living, Michael Landon, and loud rock bands. She also imparted tour wardrobe tips and weighed the costs and comforts of success.
Mixel Pixel have been a Beekiller favorite for years. This danceably lo-fi, video-game-sampling misanthropic love song makes us feel like someone injected sugar into our spine with a dirty needle. If songs like this played on MTV, life would be worth living.
Some Things You Can Do Right is Michael Hellein's Beekiller fiction-debut. This metatextual cliffhanger, verging on continuously impossible rescue, squares familial love against clenched nightmare anxiety.
Argentine make disaffected, gorgeous pop songs that swoon and tremble like a panic attack on a beautiful day, or a break-up with the only beautiful person you ever cared about.
Simon Tertychniy returns to the Beekiller fold with a poem about the inevitable failure of poetic self-improvement: "Advise me, oh my distant friend,
as to the how of approach
Our seasonal offering is rounded out by another contribution from the awe-inspiring Up The Empire, whose empirialist ambitions are the only ones Beekiller fully endorses. These pop-punk songs motor away like stadium anthems for the lionhearted, fresh-faced youth of today.