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The Photography of Leigh Anita

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BIO

Living in Maine is like living in two places. I spend my days walking circles in the forest, down side streets, and through pocket gardens. In summertime, days pass slowly and the crystal green ocean glistens with falling waves. Deciduous forests cloak winding carriage trails to the Atlantic. In the winter there is only silence. Seaside towns that are so empty even light footsteps echo down their streets. Stone walls that once marked property lines crumble along the forest floor. Nature reclaims the ruins of ancestral homes and resort hotels. By night, dark salt water crashes against seaside cliffs while foghorns moan in the harbor. Three of the four seasons are spent in total isolation. Memories of being submerged in the amber glow of August fall away. Cicadas sing as the days grow shorter, until one morning a fog rolls in to hover above the marshland. I cross the great Piscataqua River by foot. From the bridge I watch its powerful current. Tankers pass along the waterfront with salt, freight, and scrap metal.

I grew up on a small island, and sometimes wonder if I grew up to become a small island. There are days that I escape to the city, but find vines creeping between the bricks and cobblestones.

Winter is brittle, trees lose their leaves and reach toward clouds heavy with snow. Days are dark and fade into what feels like endless night. Roads snake along the coast without streetlights, becoming treacherous after dusk. During my adolescence, I spent a great deal of time wandering the island. My brother and I made our playgrounds in abandoned bunkers and atop timber pilings that once supported an anti-submarine net to capture German U-Boats. When I couldn’t sleep, my father tapped messages on my back in morse code.

When I came of age, I left the island and all of its architectural ghosts. Every night, I found myself wandering city streets until sunrise, searching for patterns and visiting the dark waterfront. Silence no longer existed, and the stars were masked behind the ochre glow of millions of lights. As an adult, I find myself on the mainland, but within close proximity to the island and the unending loop. Although I work primarily as an illustrator, my creative process involves wandering alone and trying to understand what it means to be remote. I have returned for it. I vanish into the trees, down side streets, beneath the waves, into the salt air.

www.leighanita.com
Etsy.com/shop/LeighAnita

Instagram
Art: @leighanita
Nature: @some.girls.wander.by.mistake

 

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Ashley Urban

An Homage to Historic Downtown

 

Cal Edison Building

 

Cal Edison Building

 

Cal Edison Building

 

Hotel Hayward

 

Warner Bros Theatre Dome

 

Biltmore Hotel

 

Biltmore Hotel

 

Pac Mutual Building

 

Secret Ceiling

 

Los Angeles Theatre

 

 

ABOUT

Ashley Urban is a fine artist and illustrator, fashion designer, and visual story teller. Originally from the seclusions of a national forest in Colorado, she has found a strong juxtaposition of culture, sights, sounds and experiences after moving to Los Angeles in 2013. Ashley lives and designs a multitude of creative projects from her downtown Los Angeles studio. One of her favorite pastimes is taking walks through the downtown streets, photographing and studying historic architecture. She has an allegiance for sharing the sights of what she finds well designed, beautiful, strange, mesmerizing or overlooked. With an affinity for bygone eras, she finds considerable excitement and curiosity in the hidden stories that the spectacular historic buildings of Los Angeles could tell. You can find her art, photography, fashion and all manner of the ‘The Art of Style’ on her website, TheAshleyUrban.com

 

 

Social media: 
Architecture photography: @Urban.Decadence
Art/Fashion/Design: @TheAshleyUrban

TheAshleyUrban.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dream Poetry

Last Night in a Dream

by Ashley Inguanta

 

Last night in a dream, I was healthy. You were a rose. You got into my car and I took you home, and when you saw the white flags at the Brooklyn bridge’s arc, you told me the story of a conflicted hero, all shadow and moon, and I told you a story about resurrecting the dead. In your story, the hero did not want to die, so she did not leap. Instead, she turned into a seed. In my story, I kneeled by your grave. When I heard gunfire, I dodged each bullet—and then, finally, I woke up next to you, all new, stripes of sunlight over your hair like a crisp photograph.

Sometimes I wonder: If God could really hear me, what would the moon do? Any good moon would reach over both white flags, carry them to you as you fall asleep. Any good moon would hold me here, in this dream, where I can run to you without losing my breath, where you are a rose and my heart is good as new.

 

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BIO

ashley inguantaAshley Inguanta is a small-press author, photographer, and yoga teacher who has dedicated her life to helping others heal by developing healthy coping mechanisms. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from The University of Central Florida in 2011, and she earned her 200 hour RYT certificate from YOGAMAYA New York in 2014. She is the author of The Way Home (Dancing Girl Press, 2013 / re-published with The Writing Disorder on Kindle), For the Woman Alone (Ampersand Books 2014), and Bomb, which is forthcoming with Ampersand Books this fall. As a mental health advocate and queer rights advocate, she’s volunteered with organizations and facilities like Equality Florida and Lakeside Alternative, and currently she teaches healing, restorative writing and yoga classes at several locations in Central Florida.

 

PHOTOGRAPHY

Alexander C. Kafka is a journalist, photographer, and composer in Bethesda, Maryland. His photography portfolio is at https://www.lensculture.com/alexander-kafka

 

 

 

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