This summer, at Union Station, we have been enjoying the process of rediscovery. We thrilled to read so many compelling submissions, to watch how those submissions and our strange obsessions with the shapes of the work influenced and reconfigured what we thought we knew about the magazine. That strangeness and those obsessions are captured in David Ayllon’s brilliant illustrations which are a new and necessary element to USM.
The lady said they had thirty minutes to get hold of two hundred things and put them somewhere safe. Those who succeeded would be granted citizenship; those who didn’t would be bused away. In the case of families, there needed to be two hundred things per adult and one hundred per child. She held up a stopwatch and yelled, “Go!”
Interviews Editor, Jon Sands returns with a sit down with Geoff Kagan-Trenchard.
When my cousin Buddha was four years old he called me a bitch. I don’t remember what I did to
earn it, but I took it in stride…
Tom winks at Will, then stares attentively at his sister as she narrates. He’s not faking. He is genuinely interested in his sister’s meager life. Hanging on the wall behind him is a framed black and white photo of a handsome and long dead great-uncle, whom Dotty has frequently cited as Tom’s mirror image in every way.
The poppies in her hands were stolen
but she didn’t know it. The field more
abandoned than possessed.
Stay gone. Stay north. Stay in your survival mode & keep
against the Barring Sea. Go aboard a fishing ship & keep cold.
folio: David Ayllon
Illustrator, poet and graphic designer extraordinaire, David Ayllon lends us his portfolio of deliciously imaginative and whimsical works shared throughout issue nO. 10.
the Conversation: Geoff Kagan-Trenchard talks with Jon Sands
Geoff’s miraculous intellect, dry humor, and effortless viscerality escort us through a virtual realness parade of how we, as a culture, learned (and still learn) about violence and sexuality. It is an ode to the power of story, and a terse acknowledgment to the limits of that power. Then there are these moments of profound vulnerability and tenderness that root Geoff’s work. He says in this interview “You can’t ever really go wrong if you can acknowledge that you are just as frail, just as capable of wrong, as the people you hate.” Geoff manages to simultaneously gift us, both the compassion to move forward, and the hard medicine of not looking away.