Current Issue :: –> Things we've agreed to out of desperation.

Entasis Journal Entasis Journal Entasis Journal Entasis Journal Entasis Journal Entasis Journal

Entasis 1 :: Faustian Falls :: Fall 2010

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UPDATE: Entasis is helping Mod Melange, UK essay writing service a network of artists, raise a little money for a show on January 2nd, 2010. The show is free and you’re invited to come. Perhaps you’d like to help support art for an evening? Donations can be as low as a dollar.

Welcome to Entasis.

When we started putting together this, our inaugural issue, we eventually landed on “things we agree to out of desperation” as our theme. It permits us to bring our disparate but complementary editorial visions together into an issue that allows its poetry, prose, and visual art to speak to each other, even when they do so from what seem like opposite sides of the universe. As I look at the completed issue and observe the unities that bind together this wild and reckless and lovely collection of works, I’m immediately reminded of the Thomas Wyatt poem that concludes: “Noli me tangere, for Caesar’s I am, / And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.” I hope that as you read through what we’ve assembled here, you find yourself where I ended up—at the threshold where dailiness opens onto a strange and elusive, a darkly seductive and almost unfathomable world.

– JL

Anytime someone like Jenny whips out a few lines from Tommy Wyatt, you know she’s inviting you for a swim in the deep water. But how to get there, from here, when you’re me? My own version of Wyatt’s sentiments would sound something like this: “Someone, God, please touch me, I can’t get away from Caesar fast enough, / But I’m NOT WILD! I’M NOT WILD! I’M NOT WILD! WHERE’S A GUN?” Desperation, as far as I could tell, was simply a password. When we stabbed it during our first dart-throwing session, we knew, yes, what artist isn’t desperate? If you hear it and you respond to it, then welcome to the land down under. I think you speak-a my language.

I, for one, count myself fortunate to know, at worst by two degrees of separation, the talented artists represented here. Entasis has, more or less, just sort of happened: an accident of like minds: that, for me, is the unity.

– GMc

I mostly write long, prose narratives. It’s lonely, surly work done in a cave with a keyboard. I’ve always envied poets for their communities (and admired the tightropes they dance on. How do they balance on those thin columns of print in all that blankness?  Don’t look down guys, there’s no net!). Putting together this issue, with three poets, I realized that I did have a community, spread out across years and leagues, one filled with beautiful talents. Entasis helped make that community more real. The walls of the cave are stars.

– RA

I suppose one of our intended meanings behind “Entasis,” the name, was the idea of correcting an illusion by creating one. The slant you need to tell the truth (to revisit––joyously, jealously––those famous words by Ms. Emily). There’s a desperation in this illusion-making for illusion-killing, a madcap logic that both acknowledges and refuses the urgency of the act itself. Isn’t this the harebrained logic behind all works of art? Looking over what we’ve collected here, I’m thrilled by this obsessive to-fro tug between acknowledgment and refusal running through the work of all these tremendous artists. If Entasis endeavors to “correct” anything it’s the need for a place where a community of like and not so like minded people might bring their “corrective illusions.”

What was it GN’R enjoined so many years ago (perhaps not as auspiciously as Ms. Emily)? Ah, yes. Use your illusion.

– LR