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This issue offers a mosaic of truth as the writers and artists wrestle with the “art of losing.”
Do we only lose things if we realize they are missing? The meanings of all these things are sometimes lost on us.
Besides, they were just things, right? I didn’t need his clothing to keep alive my memories.
Aloneness is tangible. It shrugs right up against you And presses against your skin. It smells cold and aches. Heat up the oven. Stir your sweet sauces. Put on your flowered dress, Earrings and bracelet. Set a pretty table, Mother’s china and goblets. Serve yourself first, There is space for a friend.ARTIST STATEMENTCooking For OneOil on canvas, 30 x 40 in.My exploration into contemporary painting practices embraces the yoking of concept with the visual, the process and sentiment. My paintings address concerns of individuals within contemporary society such as loss, mental illness, being female in a competitive world, the influence […]
For as long as I can remember, I have felt a certain kind of loneliness, an emptiness that I couldn’t put my finger on until recently. As a child, I often felt different from those around me. I was a half-Mexican child who looked fully Latina but was raised culturally White. I grew up in Houston, where I attended a Spanish-speaking congregation of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and an elementary school that was mostly Latino. I always felt out of place. I felt that my Latino peers were so connected to their Hispanic culture in a […]
From a workshop at the Exponent II Retreat in Fall 2022.Read by AuthorMy Journey with Ambiguous LossDeath has been on my mind for decades: my undergraduate thesis focused on James Agee’s A Death in the Family; one of my doctoral exams probed literary instances of death leading to beauty (elegy, last words, odes, etc.); dressing the body of a dear friend for burial over 20 years ago remains one of my most profound spiritual experiences; and on my mission in Colombia, I was struck by the ubiquitousness of fatality, as death notices were papered on lamp posts and fences, and […]
Read by AuthorThere is a distinct, sterile smell in every hospital. I think about the combination of cleaning supplies and latex gloves they must use to engineer this scent as I fidget with the notebook I brought to my mother-in-law’s oncology appointment. She is getting her test results back today and put me in charge of taking notes. The news seemed more likely to be bad than good. The nurse told us her doctor was running just a little late. All we needed to do was wait.* * *Two and a half years earlier, two significant things happened within a […]
Read by Author it’s easier, i think, to see substance in silence and ghosts, than in lions and hosts. after all, bees do not relate with words or touch but with work and minutes and hours and days passed away. threads in a quilt stand firm for the central fibers and fray at the edges. whispered weakness only, so he could not see. quiet can be peace when there’s no one left to talk to or love. no more mountainous roars, heart- hunger pangs, or trickling, dried-up streams. knobby fingers and withered skin do not crave warmth after aging in […]
These experiences led me to pull apart my intersectional masks one at a time and take on my rightful role with pride only made possible by loss.
Exponent II provides feminist forums for women and gender minorities across the Mormon spectrum to share their diverse life experiences in an atmosphere of trust and acceptance. through these exchanges, we strive to create a community to better understand and support each other.