Cordella Press

30/07/2024

Isabella Ducrot, a painter in Rome, didn’t really pick up a brush until her 50s. Four decades later, galleries and museums throughout Europe are celebrating her work. http://nyer.cm/g0OhdE2

24/07/2024

O l i v e r - B e e r
Oma’s Kitchen Floor
2008
Linoleum floor tiles

“Oma was the name I called my grandmother. She put the lino down in the 1960’s and over four decades her feet gradually wore through the decorative pattern.

Over the years marks appeared in front of the oven, the sink, the front door, where she turned around in front of the fridge, where she sat at her table shuffling her feet.

Like a drawing made over forty years, these worn patches describe half a lifetime of movement.”

18/07/2024

“You can’t sit around and wait for somebody to say who you are. You need to write it and paint it and do it.”
- Faith Ringgold (1930-2024)

20/06/2024

Scholars are uncovering the important role of the Black women who ran libraries during the Harlem Renaissance where they built collections and communities of writers and readers. https://nyti.ms/4esS58S

16/06/2024

"I lived when simply waiting was a large part of ordinary life: when we waited, gathered around a crackling radio, to hear the infinitely far-away voice of the king of England… I live now when we fuss if our computer can’t bring us everything we want instantly. We deny time.

We don’t want to do anything with it, we want to erase it, deny that it passes. What is time in cyberspace? And if you deny time you deny space. After all, it’s a continuum—which separates us.

So we talk on a cell phone to people in Indiana while jogging on the beach without seeing the beach, and gather on social media into huge separation-denying disembodied groups while ignoring the people around us.

​I find this virtual existence weird, and as a way of life, absurd. This could be because I am eighty-four years old. It could also be because it is weird, an absurd way to live."

~ Ursula K. LeGuin, Interview by Heather Davis

16/06/2024

In the ’80s the photographer Jo Ann Walters began visiting small, working-class towns around the country, and found herself gravitating toward the women and children she encountered. “I felt compelled to look closely, ritualistically, again and again, at the nearly impenetrable, seamless construction of stereotypes surrounding childhood, girlhood, motherhood and womanhood,” she said. See more of her work: http://nyer.cm/gN3pM0T

15/06/2024

A self-taught artist, Nellie Mae Rowe created extraordinary art from ordinary things. “I would take nothin’ and make somethin’ out of it. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been that way,” she declared. ⁣

Born in Fayetteville, Georgia, Rowe channeled her creative spirit by drawing on Styrofoam packaging, making chewing-gum sculptures, or fashioning dolls from stockings and old clothing. These remarkable works filled her yard and the little cottage she affectionately called her “playhouse.”⁣

In the summer of 1971—before Rowe’s work was widely known—photographer Melinda Blauvelt traveled to Georgia seeking subjects for her camera. On Paces Ferry Road in the rural community of Vinings, she happened upon the artist and her magical “playhouse.” Enchanted, Blauvelt asked permission to photograph Rowe and the “magical mosaic” of work surrounding her. She graciously agreed, and the resulting images, including this portrait, are an evocative record of Rowe and her art.⁣

🏛️ Visit this portrait on the first floor of the National Portrait Gallery in the "Recent Acquisitions" exhibition.

📸: "Nellie Mae Rowe, Vinings, Georgia" by Melinda Blauvelt, 1971 (printed 2021). National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. Gift of the artist. © Melinda Blauvelt ⁣

08/06/2024

06/06/2024

Tove Jansson was not an activist who stood on barricades, but the way she lived her life was a demonstration in itself.

Her approach to love was unique for her time. “I always fell in love with a person. Sometimes that person was a man, and sometimes it was a woman. But the important thing was that I fell in love with that person.” 🌈 ❤️

Get to know q***r themes in Tove Jansson's life and work here: https://moom.in/3x7c0cG

16/05/2024

"Hilma" (2023) is an engaging biopic about the enigmatic Swedish artist Hilma af Klint, whose work of graphic splendor went unheralded until decades after her death in 1944, and was only recently exhibited internationally. Her unconventional style was said to be 'channeled' – her muse being a peculiar connection to the spiritual world, here discretely rendered by director Lasse Hallstrom, whose daughter (Tora Hallstrom) and wife (Lena Olin) share the central role. Not unlike "Little Women" with a brush instead of a pen, this is an intriguing slice of feminist history. https://ondemand.arovideo.co.nz/film/hilma/

14/04/2024

With “Texas Hold ’Em,” Beyoncé has become the first Black woman to top the U.S. country music charts. The banjo and viola on the track are played by Rhiannon Giddens, an opera-trained roots musician from North Carolina who has described her own records as “black non-black music” and works alongside a long lineage of Black string bands. Revisit a Profile of Giddens, from 2019: http://nyer.cm/YJvL1PR

21/03/2024

Black bears in previously occupied dens / excavate under waterfalls / in hollow trees / in caves / Grizzly new dens / at the base of large trees / in sandy loam / in clay loam / in rocky silt / Dens / consist of entrance short tunnel / chamber/ bedding / spruce boughs

From “B E A R” by Gabrielle Jennings, in our 18th issue, Gloaming at cordella.org

06/03/2024

“There is a city / There is a river / And I am in between / Creased by the putting away / And getting back out / My fibers thinning”

From “Topography” by Briane Willis, in our 18th issue, Gloaming. Read more at cordella.org.

02/03/2024

“They do this, the buffalo, they push through every storm, they always do.” / Parting stiff polyester curtains, we watched a cold theater of sleet-pelted streaks of hooves / and resilience, / I saw the awe in my daughter’s eyes rest in their steely, patient grit / still barreling forth. / “That’s us, mom.”

From “Like a Ship” by Victoria Mikael in our new issue, Gloaming. Read the full poem at our link in bio. 🤍

11/02/2024

Lily Gladstone is the first Native American person to be nominated for a competitive acting Academy Award.

“It’s something that I wasn’t sure I would see in my career, in my lifetime,” said Gladstone, 37, who has Blackfeet and Nez Percé heritage.

05/02/2024

For Black History Month, observed annually during the month of February, we asked our member magazines and presses to share with us some of the books and literary journals they recommend reading in celebration.   Poetry   Rupture by Monique Adelle Codhill Press | 2023 Rupture “weaves together th...

05/02/2024

Water walker, cricket, bat, / blackbird, bear, invisible / coyote, / I hear you, know you / roam these bones. Feed me: / I dream you in marrow. ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

—from "Catskills: An Ode" by Michelle Bonczek Evory, read the full poem in our 18th issue at cordella.org

25/01/2024

"Then, settling into the trough of a sigh, where / stillness lingers before the breath’s return, here— / in that reticent, waiting space—we each conceived / our own ideas of motherhood & how we might be / different this time."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

From "Prevernal Bearing" by Sarah Yost, read it in full at cordella.org. 🤍

17/01/2024

“The last time I saw my dad was five weeks before he died of bronchoalveolar carcinoma and we stood among the shoes and suitcases in the entryway of my parents’ second-floor flat in England. He in dark green tracksuit bottoms with a V-neck white undershirt tucked into the waistband and pool slide sandals with socks, me already in my jacket with a carry-on bag slung over one shoulder. ‘OK, see you soon,’ I said. For some reason, I gave him the kind of hug you give on a Tuesday when you’ll get together on a Thursday.”

From Last Hug by Catherine DeNardo, in our new issue, Gloaming. Read more at our link in bio.

16/01/2024

Joni Mitchell: "The Blue album, there's hardly a dishonest note in the vocals. At that period of my life, I had no personal defenses. I felt like a cellophane wrapper on a pack of ci******es. I felt like I had absolutely no secrets from the world and I couldn't pretend in my life to be strong. Or to be happy. But the advantage of it in the music was that there were no defenses there either."

Mitchell was inspired to bare her personal regrets and roadblocks by fellow singer-songwriter Dylan. Though she’d written intimate songs before, hearing Dylan’s first-person narrative approach led to her pushing past old limits. "There came a point when I heard a Dylan song called 'Positively Fourth Street' and I thought 'oh my God, you can write about anything in songs.' It was like a revelation to me," she said. Among Mitchell's fully exposed emotions on Blue are the melancholy she shared in the title song.

Photographer: Baron Wolman

13/01/2024

The first pool I remember was the one I fell into as a small child. It was at an apartment complex that my young parents lived in. I recall falling in, opening my eyes, and seeing the color of the water and the reflection of sunlight shimmering in my field of vision. My mother pulled me out. I was around four years old. Eventually I became a good enough swimmer and spent the summers of my childhood and adolescence in any pool I could find.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​My parents were divorced by the time I was eight years old and I spent every other weekend with my dad. Back then he lived in apartment complexes; some of which had pools. My father would let my brother and me play for hours. And during the winter he would take us to hotels that had indoor pools. These stays helped us avoid the sense of loss.

My father’s business endeavors were prone to sudden changes. When times were good, he lived in luxurious homes; the best ones had pools. But when the tides would turn, the moves came abruptly. There were eleven homes in ten years. And sometimes the pools went dry.

I came to learn that the presence of a pool was a distraction from how impermanent things actually were. Underneath, there loomed an impending sense that everything could be lost. Stable could quickly become unstable, and suddenly we were in over our heads. Yet the pool was always seductive. There was a comfort in the stillness of its waters, albeit a calm that couldn’t be trusted.

Now, I look at pools as windows into my past, and insights into my present. Beyond their surfaces, the depths of my discoveries are seemingly infinite.

From "Last Night I Dreamt I Knew How to Swim" by award-winning photographer Natalie Christensen, featured in our new issue, "Gloaming." See more at cordella.org.

10/01/2024

The Girl Gives a Grand Tour of Her Self Portrait, Age 6
Rebecca Macijeski

4 foot something
Head like a circle
Arms and legs good healthy lines
Hands, feet, skin, hair
Not sure how many pounds—the right amount
Shoes my sister already had
My other sister will get them next
Look at the teeth don’t they sparkle?
Notice the elbows and knees
—good for climbing trees
Blackberry juice on my shirt
I keep trying to eat the sun
Check my pocket for fireflies
I keep them in case the lights go out
Don’t worry—I’ll let them go tomorrow
They glow better when they feel the air on their wings
My ears are my favorite part
They’re like leaves
When I grow up
I’m going to be a tree.

Featured in our new issue, Gloaming
✨ cordella.org ✨

08/01/2024

08/01/2024

Huge congrats to Lily Gladstone!

Congratulations to the ever-talented, history making achievements of on her win for Actress in a Drama Motion Picture | . We are so proud of you!!

07/01/2024

Everything happened after your birth,
when you left on a boat of herons
a new Eve
not to be eaten
as anybody’s muse
your spine a hearing trumpet
you blew self-portraits in glass,
and only spoke between worlds
mère, mer
now mother, now sea.

from “River Triptych” by Stacey C. Johnson, in our new issue, Gloaming 🤍 link in bio

05/01/2024

the ephemeral wraps around us,
silk shroud to wear
at parties and tombstones,
ice cream trucks, freezer trucks,
hospital beds.
she sits at the kitchen table
and tells me she couldn’t count
them all, that every day she walks
into work and there are
more.
i don’t know how to tell her
it will be okay,
like how i can’t say
that if i dream deeply enough,
feverishly enough,
the dead will reappear.
they frolic above me,
wander up the stairs,
whisper into floorboards
and peek through corridors.
i stay quiet until
they untether us.
the shroud slips,
they wave farewell

St. Joseph's Hospital—April 2020
Rebecca Bermudez
from Cordella's new issue, Gloaming

Read the new issue at cordella.org 🤍

04/01/2024

"Pain is sound-muted like a star"

​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Read Shaking Leaves by poet Mercé Alegre Bastida in our new issue, Gloaming, at cordella.org. 🤍