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Kunst og arkitektur

IMAGE 95 - Winter 2017

Now one of the leading literary journals published in English, IMAGE is read all over the world—and forms the nexus of a warm and active community. The publication seeks out and brings to its readers work of high artistic quality that engages with the historic faith traditions on a profound level, without easy answers or false uplift, and with a serious respect for beauty and truth.

United States
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1 År

I denne utgaven

8 min.
the liturgy of the stars

GROWING UP AS I DID amidst the dazzling lights of New York City, it is strange that even as a small child I was madly in love with the stars. The city’s glare effectively canceled out the night sky, admitting only the rare glimpse of the brightest heavenly orbs. Beyond the moon and Venus, you’d be lucky to spot Sirius, Vega, or Rigel—or constellations other than Orion and the Big Dipper. But what the artifice of the city may have taken from my perception of nature it restored in the form of the Hayden Planetarium. It all began when my mother took me to the Museum of Natural History, where the planetarium is housed, and we soon fell into a pattern on our return visits. This was the 1960s, decades before…

20 min.
the stand-in

1 CAROLINE WAS PADDING, distracted and shoeless, through the weekday stillness of the empty church when she came upon Desmond’s wife standing on the other side of the back entrance. Framed by the double glass doors, Kim looked uncharacteristically small in an out-of-season winter jacket. Caroline offered up pastoral smile no. 6: Ironic Appreciation of Life’s Injustices Large and Small, as she pushed open the door. “No doorbell,” she shrugged. “You have to knock on the glass.” Kim stepped inside, and Caroline gave her a hug. A warm hug, but not intimate; Caroline worried it smacked of tradecraft. Kim had stopped by to ask Caroline to officiate Desmond’s funeral. The service would have to wait a few days, Kim explained as they walked to Caroline’s office, the morning light sepia-toned through the church’s…

2 min.
lessons of a gentle childhood

Under this skylight many lost things are visible.I see the mighty black and yellow spiders in the iris beds by the old garage and feel not a shred of fear.I could husk two dozen sticky ears of sweet corn and pick two quarts of strawberries on my achy kneeswithout whining once. I could hit four baseballs in a row under the maple trees and over the fence,the only kind of home run that counts in my private game. I could sit through the whole Sunday night servicein the stickiest dusk of July and not once imagine committing the unpardonable sin, just to seeif anything would change. I could sing Just as I am, thine own to be seven times through and never switchto “Mr. Tambourine Man” in my head, never dream of dancing ’neath the diamond sky,…

22 min.
like water on stone

SALIM PEERS THROUGH the peephole in the men’s room in Temple B’nai Moshe and sees two girls standing side by side at the row of sinks in the ladies’ bathroom. One is tall and slim with golden hair that cups her scalp like a swim cap. The other is several inches shorter with a belly that lolls over her skirt like a tongue. Her hair is stringy, her shoulders beefy. The golden girl rolls her sleeves up past the elbow and soaps her hands while her lips move in prayer. Her movements are fluid. They make him think of water, of currents chugging downstream and sunlight flickering through a canopy of leaves. The other girl reminds him of his mother whose face is a desert of lines, deep and parched,…

1 min.
the virgin and the stone

That woman carrying a stone might be understood like this:the Virgin and the Stone: to her has been foretoldthe weight of the world. She carries a stone like others their cross. A cross:said to be from this landscape’s newest tree: artificial treewhose fruit is a natural corpse. The stone has the weightof a dead child: no: not a dead child, but a child foretold:the stone has a pregnant weight: stones are not dead:stones have never been alive: stones are aboutto be born. The stones will be born, but in the meantimewe reconstruct the temple word by word. A stone:a falling stone: a broken stone is not two stones.…

23 min.
secret identities, shifting shapes the graphic novels of gene luen yang

DORCAS CHENG-TOZUN ONE OF THE THREE NARRATIVES woven through American Born Chinese, Gene Luen Yang’s debut graphic novel, opens with Danny, a blond, blue-eyed teen who seems to be on the cusp of moving forward in his relationship with his longtime crush. The also blonde, blue-eyed girl is blushing just when Danny’s mom calls from the other room that his cousin Chin-Kee is on his way for a visit. It’s no surprise that the title character of a story called “Everyone Ruvs Chin-Kee” would dominate every panel he occupies, his bold blue and gold clothing garish against the muted earth tones of Danny’s universe. Chin-Kee is larger than life, embodying the most painful of Chinese stereotypes, with slit-eyes, buckteeth, yellow skin, and a long queue. He speaks terrible English and makes juvenile,…