photography.poetry.paintings.place
k r i s s t a l o r e
OCTOBER 2026 edition
The Poetics of Space
- a universal truth that has not been written about
nor described. Why ?? Why is there is no language regarding - the “personality of a place.”
I am going to speak up for these four walls.
Speak up for our structures, our architecture, our spaces, our places, and yes, who we are in relation to where we live. The interconnectedness between our abodes & our beings.
featured essay :
Sense of Place essay by Emerson Bentvelzen - 7th grade
Dear Guemes Island,
You define my childhood.
The splashing of the waves
While we make smores
and share stories.
The anticipation on the
seven minute long ferry
ride to finally see my
cousins for the first time
in a year. The feeling of
independence during the kids
bike ride alone to the store.
Eating dinner while watching the
waves splash up on the shore.
Looking at Jack Island in
the distance with the misshapen
tree where we put my great grandmother’s
ashes. Dogs playing with one another
and getting dirty with the
sand from the ocean. The double rainbow
that appears every year. Pass the Island
fire department, grave yard, play ground,
and the abandoned trailer which will always
be a mystery. There will be a house
that holds my fondest memories
with family. It holds my childhood
and my relationships with my family.
Guemes Island, you will always be my second
Home.
- Emerson Bentvelzen - 7th grade
matt's muse.ings
poetry by Matt Turley
TOWERS and TENTS
Tent held all that mattered
while it did
Sneaking out at dusk
into cool forgiving air
Reading books he did
to observe her where
no jock would venture
A quiet home for words
Timing elevators
Awaiting when the doors
opened, revealing subtle beauty
in her knowing smile
Aligning careers
to chart a course for kids
Deciding on the timing
And buying their first home
Alone in his apartment
After many years of
Unanswered accusations
Despondent and detached
Girl toddler on his knee
resembling her mom and him
He sees the three
generations in her eyes
Homaging endless friends
Recalling countless capers
The light that I see
is grateful for me
I am not old
I am not old…she said.
I am rare.
I am the standing ovation
At the end of the play.
I am the retrospective
Of my life as art
I am the hours
Connected like the dots
Into good sense
I am the fullness
Of existing.
You think I am waiting to die.
But I am waiting to be found I am a treasure.
I am a map.
And these wrinkles are
Imprints of my journey
Ask me anything.
-Wendy Huntington.
Sock it to me
... the latest in sock knitting
sunflower painting donations
to the Sunflower Fund
for Ukraine
Inspiration for this series of four sunflowers - - Van Gogh’s 5 variations of sunflowers in a vase.
… By repeating the same composition, & at the same time, shifting the color palettes,
my focus became less dependent upon duplicating the subject matter,
& more about seeing the energy of the subject matter.
