ISSUE 11: CONSCIOUSNESS

This issue is our opportunity to cultivate planetary consciousness through the Arts

This special issue of Libretto Magazine shines light on consciousness through original stories and imagery from creatives around the corner, and around the world. This issue is our opportunity to cultivate planetary consciousness through the Arts. What exactly is consciousness anyway? Everything from bees to trees are awake and share knowledge. Human consciousness is distinguished by the ability to time travel in our thoughts, and share common intentions. Think storytelling. Think community. Despite our qualia, or uniqueness, we are all made of the same cosmic stardust. Behaving without consciousness signifies ignorance, unkindness, or confusion. Being unconscious means being asleep, comatose, or even dead. The word itself is an impressive accumulation of letters: two c’s, o’s, and n’s, four s’s. One I. At the most basic level, being conscious points to the “I” — the self. Humans turn to stories — whether spoken, written, sung, danced, stitched, or painted — to make sense of our lives. Storytellers guard heritages from erasure, break with rigid norms for innovation. They help us imagine what might not yet feel possible. Some stories may feel familiar while others may appear distant or out of reach. That’s the whole point. Imagine yourself in the storyteller’s shoes, perhaps going someplace you’ve never been, then return home to yourself with a wider lens on what it means to be human —consciously.

Inside this issue, readers will encounter poetry, prose, visual art, and author interviews. Geri Mendoza Gutwein’s poem “In the Absence of Thread,” conjures the memory of her mother threading a needle with her hair to mend her family’s clothing. In “It Starts With A Smoke,” a poem by Adrian Ernesto Cepeda, we witness the subtle, yet transformational, impact of conversations between people where “distance dissolves— / as the kindling of compassion begins…” Zama Madinana’s poem “Karibu” honors people’s labor and survival strategies recognizing that “we are all here to wash our septic wounds from the healing waters of uthukela.” A’bena Awuku-Larbi’s anthemic poem, “A Proclamation,” rejects negative depictions of womanhood and rewrites her life with the authority of her own visionary language: “I am priest and shrine / graceful as pythons gliding through water.” Dolapo Tajudeen’s poem “Confession” narrates an inner dialogue of desire and devotion in an attempt to rewrite one’s life path with modesty, discipline, and religious practice. CLS Sandoval’s poems remind us to be compassionate with our miraculous bodies, and she welcomes our eventual “complete release of conscious.” Jeremy Gadd’s poem “Bones” finds commonality in our calcified remains as “the last residual of being.”

In Ezioma Kalu’s essay “That Woman’s Curse,” the central character — who self-identifies as “the queen of all card games” — loses control over the hand of her life. She relinquishes agency over her actions and words, and “cannot say what’s on my mind, but the exact opposite.” Her outer and inner dialogue battle each other for authority over her being. This is a spine-tingling, split consciousness without power, balance, or harmony. “The Great Dig,” an essay by Christy McCarthy, faces the challenge of grief after the death of a grandparent. The main character first imagines herself as a winged creature, capable of flight. Over time, she learns to care for her trauma to assert self leadership through authenticity.

Mystical, emotional, and kinesthetic visual artworks guide this issue from intimate meditations, and the painful disorientation of grief, to healing and balance. Reva Santo’s “Balance” and “Protect” contributes rich red photographs of dancer Ashley Blanchard that dramatize the experience of finding center and mastering the tools to carve out one’s path. Onyi Love and Vanessa Marquez offer a colorful digital collage that centers a human being surrounded by parrots and ladybugs with a moon setting inside the mind. This conjures synergistic awareness of land, body, and multiple species. “Lucid III” is a delicate, realistic drawing by Pao Chutijirawong that peels back the surface to reveal a living blue ear listening from beyond. Bruria Finkel’s resonant “Meditations on Aleph and Ayin” pulses like an energy vortex, juxtaposing dreamy, penetrating hand-drawn pastel shapes with stamped images of ancient Hebrew letters. T.J. Dedeaux’s provocative rainbow watercolor portrait, poignantly captures the physical and emotional vulnerability of grief. Yemisi Oyeniyi’s “Èṣù-Ẹlégbára – Finding My Mother Tongue” layers an archival photograph of extended-family amidst towering black and red abstract forms in the tonalities of Esu, keeper of the crossroads. Vera Caldas’ crisp blue image of Crater Lake conveys a tonality impossible to imagine without freezing temperatures. The petite nib of a lone green pine tree illuminated by the sun poke out from beneath a baby blue ring of ice. Jun Ishibashi’s elegant images of clouds and sky bring us to the edge of the terrain. Land appears as a mere launching pad from Earth into the heavens.

Libretto intentionally centers learning by including behind-the-scenes conversations with literary artists. In his interview, Aremo Yusuf Alabi Balogun poetically states, “I crawled out of the mud where so many are left to decay and perish. The only instrument I had was and is still the art.” His process is deeply grounded in the Yoruba language and philosophy to forge an inclusive view of literary futures. “I will not discard the past, in a bid to appeal to the present,” he says. “The plan is to appear to the future and that is how transcendental arts can be created.” Writer and filmmaker Anthony Kane Evans also took time to chat with Libretto about his creative process. He reminds us that “everybody has their own story to tell.” Writer and painter Yemisi Aribisala explains her creative capacities as superpowers. “I like to think of painting as my right hand and writing as my left…It’s like being ambidextrous.” Her vivid paintings accompany her interview.

May each page of this issue plant the seeds of a fresh planetary consciousness in your limitless imagination. May we grow together in creative community, and be supported by the vast mysteries of our planet, deep as Olokun’s reach.

—Dr. Amy Shimshon-Santo,
Writer and educator