Photography, Running and Writing with Carl Scharwath Sick Lit Magazine: What inspires you as an artist? Carl Scharwath: Other artists. I have a deep love of reading, the arts and discovering new authors and photographers. The biographies of artists are also inportant to learn as they have gone through many of the same heartbreaks and still overcame them….
Tag: #artlife
Remembering Snake Skeletons and a Cherry Red Impala -Artist, Finn Lafcadio O’Hanlon
Remembering Snake Skeletons and a Cherry Red Impala On the 21st September, a second solo exhibition by 24-year-old English-born American artist, Finn Lafcadio O’Hanlon, will open at the Whiteconcepts space in Berlin. Titled The Plague Year, it will expand his meticulous exploration of syncretic religious, mediaeval and ‘pop’ iconography, cartography and lexicology – this time, within…
What Makes an Editor, Well, an Editor?
August brings more than just scorching temperatures that belong in one of the 9 circles of hell: it also brings SLM! And, with that comes CONTEST WINNERS, a NEW PUSHCART PRIZE NOMINEE, and….(wait for it)…Santino Prinzi’s Perceptions Theme! The other day, Melissa sent me a quote about writers that said something along the lines of:…
Reality.
We aren’t a cookie cutter publication. We will never be. And, why? Life isn’t like that and neither are human beings. The fact that I don’t put each author, publication or artist in a box has limited SLM’s visibility on certain lists / forums; it’s limited our ability to be seen. Their denial of our…
Teresa Law – Art, Life and Artlife.
Sick Lit Magazine: What inspires your work? Teresa Law: Women, primarily. I am a feminist and that influences me a lot, along with bright colours and sarcasm. Three things that I love! I’ve always drawn cartoonish pictures, and I think that’s continued many years later. I find that a backstory or argument or some social situation quite…
Submissions: FAQs, Deadlines and What’s Really Up
‘Tis a new year. ‘Tis the time to revamp and re-explain the submissions process. I understand it can be a bit confusing when I have monthly themes going on for most of 2016. I’m not trying to make it difficult; readers and writers alike tend to get excited when there are themes happening, so I…
Laugh/Inhaling Suburbia/Raucous II – by Z.M. WISE
Laugh Laugh. Laugh. Snicker. Got humor? Have jokes will travel. Humor: my greatest ally. I make love to you every day, burying my voice in your euphoric environment. Echoing in barbaric ‘ha-ha’ tones, a lullaby of chuckles, sent to my loved one. She deserves this after a life time of killing tears,…
10.0 – by Molly Mary O’Brien
10.0 She lives on the moon, teaching gymnastics. She’s way too old to compete now, ancient at 28. She can no longer do a double layout punch front, which is where you flip forward in the air twice with your whole body extended and rigid, then bounce against the floor hard and immediately flip…
The Other Woman – by DEE LEAN
The other woman. I sat across from her looking her in the eyes and holding her gaze. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. I’m not what she expected; I’m not the monster she awaited. Words fell out of her mouth trying to tell me things that I knew weren’t true. Excuses and reasons on why…
Happy Fucking New Year. (Just Kidding. I love you guys.)
I’m sure a lot of you make resolutions; I don’t. I do the opposite since I’m perpetually in a state of self-loathing and self-criticism that seems to run on a loop. So I want to mess up and not hate myself for it. Sometimes the hardest person to forgive is yourself. I’m never too proud…
The Accessory of Responsibility – by COLIN JAMES
THE ACCESSORY OF RESPONSIBILITY She showed up in a large, white van. Her cauterizing tools were kept within Velcro flaps that enthralled the vehicle’s essential task. No discernible hats. Her talent is concealed, wrapped astutely out of sight, in a long coat of lipid gabardine. She…
The Tree/Lub Dub, Lub Dub (the beating heart) – by AZIA DUPONT
Lub Dub, Lub Dub (the beating heart) It seems no matter where I hide fetal-positioned cursing the rainclouds for infiltrating my brainwaves, my eyes all grey water pouring, a blinding fog choking me silent for the fifteenth time in two weeks, my husband is always there. He says the clouds are just water…
