| Editors Note: Issue #3 |
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Thumbing through an old literary theory book, thumbing being the predominant word, I found some writing on deconstruction. For some reason this relationship between deconstruction and our theme, “Reconstruction,” took hold of me and kind of became an obsession. And, of course, after some nonextensive research, I found that as usual “nothing is new under the sun” and more apt minds have found this idea interesting and even worthy of scholarship. So, that being said, I do not attempt to add to this discussion but merely want to “ruminate” the connection. The pairings of photography and poetry in this issue created a jumping off point for my obsession. Separately the works are complete; but when viewed together, new ideas, even new images are created. Jennifer Steensma-Hoag and Otto Selles’ collaboration re/construct was, consequently, the inspiration for this issue’s them. One of their pairings (p. 10-11) was so visually intriguing that I found myself yearning for context. Then as I viewed it alongside the poem, the image, the curved concrete, became words evading a single purpose and encompassing both movement and permanence. I think, professors, please correct me if I’m wrong, that reconstruction may even be the name given to some literary theory if not an idea being tossed about among theorists. Both the decontextualizing of the image along with ambiguity of definition challenged my assumptions about the nature of meaning. Is our inability to come up with one definitive meaning in the above pairing evidence of a universe with no center, no epitome as Derrida seems to posit? Or could it be that some realities are subjective, limited to time and space, while spiritual reality or that which connects us to one another and with something greater than ourselves is still universal? C.S. Lewis said that “If the whole world has no meaning, we should never have found out that it has no meaning.” It does seem odd that we would long for something that doesn’t even exist. That we would intuitively try to define, to make sense of our life and the world around us, even reach out to others in hopes of appeasing that longing. In this issue, reconstruction takes us to a place of hope, a place of grace, and even a place of meaning. Language, lives, and images find themselves participating in the exercise of reconstruction. Words have been deciphered and redefined, life-giving language found in the silence of a brooding bird, and the loyalty of an unexpected friend. Grace experienced through the reality of a mundane testimony, the comfort of a muddy field, and the drunken kiss of a tainted whore. And, our artists have challenged and made us rethink our visual expectations mining out fresh meanings through their communal efforts. Thank you contributors! After much contemplation, your reconstruction has given me hope, pulled me out of myself and into the lives of my children, friends, and loving husband making me see the beauty in my daughter’s giant red house shoes and my son’s fixation with peeing in the snow. Thank you readers! You have made it possible for me to participate in this adventure. We welcome you to Issue 03: “Reconstruction” in hopes that your taking apart and putting back together will be fruitful and hopeful endeavors. Grace and Peace, Amy Lowe |
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