Dear readers,
I am writing this editorial with aching wrists. My carpal tunnel has been acting up for days. At the same time, my joints ache, compounded by rheumatoid arthritis flares and perimenopausal woes. The fine weather we have been experiencing here in Singapore isn't helping much either. On my good days, I can walk briskly, drinking in the wondrous blue-and-white skies and the shimmering peridot of the trees. On days when my body says No, I long for the blue skies and good health.
During these flares, I often wonder about accessibility, especially for disabled poets, photographers and artists, as well as people who struggle with chronic and often invisible illnesses? Are our poetry magazines and journals accessible to - say - the visually impaired? How are they going to access the poems and the art? Not all have access to screen readers. Not all poems are read or described.
Moreover, how do/can disabled poets, photographers and artists make use of mass media tools to express themselves, their art and their thoughts?
In a beautiful twist of synchronicity, the poets and artists in this issue convey the vital message and beauty of accessibility, be it via art or translations. Accessibility means to be understood. To be heard, to be seen, to have our messages reach people: that's accessibility.
Accessibility also translates to self-love and love of our own physical bodies. To able-bodied folk, our bodies seem to have failed us. We end up internalizing such damaging ideas. We think we aren't lovable, nobody will love us. No, that's plain wrong, wrong, wrong. We have the freedom to be who we are. Freedom is accessibility. Mobility is accessibility. Even when we fence or lock our bodies up in the choices we make or have people make them for us due to illness or disease, we do it for ourselves. We have the power to allow or deny access. We need to love ourselves first.
Dov Zeller's glitch art and Dhiyanah Hassan's gorgeous art take our breath away with their sheer beauty. I love how these artists make use of technology and different media to express their art. Glitch art is an art-form that challenges traditional art by "corrupting digital data or physically manipulating electronic devices." (Wikipedia). Dov challenges the way how we perceives art. Dhiyanah is not only a good poet, but a talented illustrator too. Her digital illustrations are both gentle and forceful at the same time whereby we have to confront issues faced by people who have invisible illnesses.
Cecilia Deer's poems 'Plant' and 'Rose of Jericho' are wonderful. Translated from Danish, they give us a glimpse into other worlds. They speak of cycles, of death and rebirth, of growing and dying. Essentially, at the end of the day, we are still speaking the same language: cycles, rhythms, loves, ideas, bodies, selves.
Rachel Tanner's 'Inconclusive' is a powerful and painful poem that hit me hard when I first read it. Fertility and motherhood form such a huge part in people's lives. Yet, many blame themselves for not being able to become mothers. The social pressure is enormous and often unkind, bordering on cruel. Let's not judge people based on their biology. Let's accept people who they are.
How we judge bodies continues in Mo's poems. They are lovely in that they speak of love in many ways: romantic and self-love. Self-love is important. 'Ghost of the Lighthouses' resonates, because "a lighthouse is still a lighthouse even when it's locked". That's crucial. We are still us. Even when we are still figuring ourselves out, we are still essentially us. 'Sacred Ground' ends with "I want to grow with you." Because love is like that. We start with sacred ground and we nurse it with love. What a fitting metaphor for a plant and botany-inspired magazine!
May kindness and compassion be the root of accessibility.
Joyce, Editor-in-Chief
I am writing this editorial with aching wrists. My carpal tunnel has been acting up for days. At the same time, my joints ache, compounded by rheumatoid arthritis flares and perimenopausal woes. The fine weather we have been experiencing here in Singapore isn't helping much either. On my good days, I can walk briskly, drinking in the wondrous blue-and-white skies and the shimmering peridot of the trees. On days when my body says No, I long for the blue skies and good health.
During these flares, I often wonder about accessibility, especially for disabled poets, photographers and artists, as well as people who struggle with chronic and often invisible illnesses? Are our poetry magazines and journals accessible to - say - the visually impaired? How are they going to access the poems and the art? Not all have access to screen readers. Not all poems are read or described.
Moreover, how do/can disabled poets, photographers and artists make use of mass media tools to express themselves, their art and their thoughts?
In a beautiful twist of synchronicity, the poets and artists in this issue convey the vital message and beauty of accessibility, be it via art or translations. Accessibility means to be understood. To be heard, to be seen, to have our messages reach people: that's accessibility.
Accessibility also translates to self-love and love of our own physical bodies. To able-bodied folk, our bodies seem to have failed us. We end up internalizing such damaging ideas. We think we aren't lovable, nobody will love us. No, that's plain wrong, wrong, wrong. We have the freedom to be who we are. Freedom is accessibility. Mobility is accessibility. Even when we fence or lock our bodies up in the choices we make or have people make them for us due to illness or disease, we do it for ourselves. We have the power to allow or deny access. We need to love ourselves first.
Dov Zeller's glitch art and Dhiyanah Hassan's gorgeous art take our breath away with their sheer beauty. I love how these artists make use of technology and different media to express their art. Glitch art is an art-form that challenges traditional art by "corrupting digital data or physically manipulating electronic devices." (Wikipedia). Dov challenges the way how we perceives art. Dhiyanah is not only a good poet, but a talented illustrator too. Her digital illustrations are both gentle and forceful at the same time whereby we have to confront issues faced by people who have invisible illnesses.
Cecilia Deer's poems 'Plant' and 'Rose of Jericho' are wonderful. Translated from Danish, they give us a glimpse into other worlds. They speak of cycles, of death and rebirth, of growing and dying. Essentially, at the end of the day, we are still speaking the same language: cycles, rhythms, loves, ideas, bodies, selves.
Rachel Tanner's 'Inconclusive' is a powerful and painful poem that hit me hard when I first read it. Fertility and motherhood form such a huge part in people's lives. Yet, many blame themselves for not being able to become mothers. The social pressure is enormous and often unkind, bordering on cruel. Let's not judge people based on their biology. Let's accept people who they are.
How we judge bodies continues in Mo's poems. They are lovely in that they speak of love in many ways: romantic and self-love. Self-love is important. 'Ghost of the Lighthouses' resonates, because "a lighthouse is still a lighthouse even when it's locked". That's crucial. We are still us. Even when we are still figuring ourselves out, we are still essentially us. 'Sacred Ground' ends with "I want to grow with you." Because love is like that. We start with sacred ground and we nurse it with love. What a fitting metaphor for a plant and botany-inspired magazine!
May kindness and compassion be the root of accessibility.
Joyce, Editor-in-Chief