Ecuador

Kichwa

Indigenous

I wonder if in the future the Kichwa Otavalo community will still be known for being “Mindalaes” traveling merchants, will we travel across galaxies or planets?

ñawpa

United States

Peru

Andes

Latinx

Created for the Alternative Worlds Andean collection.

I find a lot of inspiration in the tocapu as a symbol embodying the mystery of the cosmos. My first completed tocapu design, I found the process of creating this to be compelling and meditative, and a welcome departure from all of the time I spend programming websites and software.

I’m inspired by the possibility of incorporating more tocapus into my work, and into my life, as I imagine these designs to be not a part of my past, but an active and important part of my present. They’re also, in my humble opinion, very nice to look at.

Sky Tocapu

Philippines

Asian American

Caption: Photo of AVDLR taken on an iPhone with illustrations on top.
Initially, I wanted to start this project under the idea of being a “perpetual foreigner,” or the concept that regardless of me being an American citizen and having the tokens of what makes up an American (whatever that means… since the U.S. is a mix of cultures after all), I will always be perceived as “the other''.
As I was working on the project, I was led to a different and more general idea of the modernization of culture; sometimes it feels like culture is conflated with history (in that it is old and static) and we view it as a separate entity all together. I feel like knowledge of culture is often treated as a novelty or a parlor trick, like knowing how to dance tinikling or speak Tagalog, or even something as simple as eating a Filipino dish.
For some Filipino Americans, and for many other second generation immigrants, they aren’t given a choice of being able to celebrate their culture or not. And for many first generation immigrants, they leave behind a culture that continues to change even while they are away: there’s new slang, new pop culture trends, and maybe even a different political climate.
The debate between mainlanders versus the diaspora has been prevalent on social media but has been the worst on TikTok, I’ve found. The word “toxic” is commonly thrown around nowadays but that’s the best way to describe the lack of critical thinking, the apathy, and the refusal to take responsibility for and acknowledge mistakes. It’s difficult for me who sits on the fence of these two identities to be invalidated and for discussions to be halted because the desire to be correct outweighs the desire to learn… well that and the fact that I’ve seen arguments turn into ad hominem attacks. Thankfully I haven’t personally experienced any of this yet, but this is something I keep in the back of my mind that sometimes keeps me from putting my work out there (I’m slowly getting over it though).
To the main point of this work: culture is now. Thanks to the internet (as corny as it sounds), I can be 8,757 miles away from my hometown in the Philippines and still be caught up on the news, pop culture, and memes. But that can’t replace me physically being there and experiencing everything myself. Of course, I acknowledge that this comes from a place of privilege because I have the financial means to live comfortably. However, in a way, I feel lost. After taking a year off of my art and taking a step back, it would seem as though I was looking through my culture through that historical lens I mentioned earlier.
This work is a baby step for me. I think I’m moving in the direction I want my work to go in, both in terms of media and focus. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to create work. Is it because I lack guidance? Or creativity? Materials? I know that I am an impulsive artist that creates work when the spark happens, but I wonder if there is a way for me to nurture that better…
Anyway, let’s talk about the process and ideas that come into this work. This is a continuation of my photo collaboration project that I did for my senior thesis. I decided to get rid of the square dimensions and go for an 8x10 inches size.
<ol>
<li dir="auto">I knew I wanted to wear the barong, so that was an easy choice.</li>
<li dir="auto">I decided to tuck my hair to mimic choking or the feeling of being overwhelmed or drowning (I think I’ll make another project for this).</li>
</ol>
I love my hair. It used to be down to butt. But I would use it as a femininity marker to compare myself to other women. I knew I did this and I knew it was wrong. I cut it to my chin when I was a sophomore in college. I can’t tell you enough how disgusted I am with myself that I was like that. And doing that did help.
<ol>
<li dir="auto">The typography stickers are slang that’s commonly used today (and some even I use). I had to ask my boyfriend any other terms he knew since I felt like the ones I knew were pretty outdated.</li>
<li dir="auto">If you’re familiar with Japan’s purikura, or photo sticker booth, I’m sure you can see the inspiration. Culture was formed hundreds of years ago, but we insert ourselves into it and shape it today.</li>
</ol>
I honestly didn’t know how to tastefully illustrate on top of this, not that it needed to be aesthetically pleasing, I just didn’t know how to combine the background and the foreground to make it look like a complete piece. I didn’t want to edit the original photo too much but I also didn’t want it to look like it was just a photo.
I’m satisfied with how this piece turned out. I will keep this written piece as raw as possible for genuity purposes (and it would be nice to see where my head was when I look back later).&nbsp;
AVDLR

Acceptance

A photo of a woman wearing Philippine cultural attire with illustrations and typography overlaid.

A woman walking across a starlit path towards a city on the horizon

A diamond-shaped geometric pattern against a blue background

White text 'Ana Somnia' on white background

Un collage de una mujer en ropa de verano; tres mujeres autoritarias; una niña contra el cielo en la noche; una mujer con sus ojos cerrados; un patrón de geometría sagrada; una pintura de pájaros de pintura al agua chino; una mujer dormiendo; una mujer vestida de poncho; una mujer con una pistola

Three men standing side-by-side near trees with a bridge in the foggy distance

Close-up of an Irish Setter puppy with reddish fur

Memoir

Envisioning the Future

On "Different Folks" and Andean musical fusion

I’ve started and stopped this letter about 10 times now. It’s like, how do you capture a crystallized moment of what you’re thinking and feeling? Then you look back and recognize that the person you were before is just an echo, and you’re slightly changed despite being the same.

Moreso than before, I’m coming to appreciate how everything and everyone is in a constant state of renewal and transformation.

We might take someone’s outward appearance for granted, just beneath the surface though everything is always flowing. It takes listening to one another’s stories to feel just how malleable life is; and there’s so much beauty in that.

In terms of where I am lately, I’ve been trying to do a better job of expressing gratitude. Before meals, for example — and I don’t always remember to do this — I’ll touch my necklace of an Andean cross under my shirt to be thankful for the meal, and to recognize all of the processes required for that food to arrive in front of me. In this way, I’m trying to make more aspects of my life sacred, in a world where so many things are made to feel cheap and disposable.

In your last letter, you wrote about how technology has accelerated the rate of change between generations, and how some Gen Zers look to millennials rather than elders for guidance on navigating life’s challenges. I feel that. We’re all improvising, learning from one another, taking things a step at a time.

This also leads me to think about our institutions and cultural practices. My gut feeling is that many of our institutions are inadequate, on an existential level, to address the challenges of our times, including these generational gaps that you mention. For sure this challenge isn’t unique to our moment — still, it’s wild to think how we’re facing a climate crisis, mental health crisis, pandemic, and more all at once.

In face of all this, I feel like social media and technology is a way of putting a bandaid on something that’s broken and needs tending to. It’s easier to caught up doomscrolling, to get a dopamine rush, than to address how we can create a fundamentally healthier culture overall. Maybe though that does begin on a person to person level, like this, you and me, talking about stuff as we see it, maybe thinking about what could be.

You spoke briefly about how our approach to creating technology contributes to the divide between generations and is fundamental in the issues we face. Of course, someone — in this case, millennials, Gen X, and Boomers — were the ones who created and financed all of these systems. So a big question for me is, what are the cultural values in place that allow such institutions to flourish? If we had a different system of values, would we as a culture gravitate towards different kinds of experiences?

It’s a tall question. Myself, I’m thinking of what it takes to make a shift in culture, even in my own life. I’ve been trying, as mentioned, to think more deeply about my connection to the earth and the processes around me. The small acts of gratitude I’ve been doing are, I think, contributing to a sense of consciousness and connection that has started to make me feel, rather than fragmented and anxious, whole.

It’s still an ongoing process, and I’m not sure where this ends up for me. I do know that, rather than taking a plane to see my family in Florida for a wedding this October, I instead booked a train despite it being more expensive and taking more time. It’s a sacrifice for sure, and it was painful to do it. At the same time, I feel at least that I’m living a truth that goes beyond the individualistic, frenetic emphasis on everything being fast, and cheap, instead thinking more holistically about how my actions impact the planet, trying to cultivate different ways of being within myself.

I’ll leave you with this last thought: I recently got myself a plant. It’s a bromeliad, an offset from one owned by my mom. It’s such a seemingly insignificant thing; for someone so mired in technology and disconnected from nature here in NYC though — always thinking about being more productive, more of this, more of that — it felt like a step towards something. Who knows how these little changes will add up. It’s a journey for sure, and honestly I’m just being led by faith and intuition, a sincere belief that everything will lead to a better future and, in a traditional Andean view of reality, that the mind and body are one.

Anyway, I’ve been so glad to be able to write this to you. Apologies for the delay, and I’m looking forward to reading your next letter (which has already been published for a while now!)

We might take someone’s outward appearance for granted, just beneath the surface though everything is always flowing. It takes listening to one another’s stories to feel just how malleable life is...

(Dear Charles #2) Cultivating Cultural Change

Heritage, music, and creative freedom

<a href="https://anasomnia.com">Ana Somnia</a> is a meditation on what it’s like to dream. It’s also a piece that uses a single interactive element to draw us into an animated world, a clever decision that is minimalism at its best.

On the title screen, atmospheric sounds introduce us to Ana Somnia’s creepy Tim Burton-esque world. We promptly find ourselves inside a little girl’s bedroom. The girl, sitting up in bed, tells us to turn off the lights and goes to sleep. The piece then waits for our interaction, and we hear a music box playing in the background.



<img src="https://altsalt.s3.amazonaws.com/catalog/article/3/anasomnia-2-1024x652.jpg">



It’s here that the clever trick comes out. To “turn off the lights,” you can spoil the fun and cover up your webcam with your hand; or, if willing to play along for a moment, you can turn off the lights in the room you’re physically in (yes, that involves getting up and turning the lights off in real life), to trigger the webcam into opening the rest of the story.

After doing so, Ana’s dream world comes alive, and we progress through a series of animated images, including strange creatures, tentacles, and assorted objects, as well as music and sound effects to match.



<img src="https://altsalt.s3.amazonaws.com/catalog/article/3/anasomnia-3-1024x695.jpg">



For me, it’s the subtleties that really make this piece come alive. The world is nicely fleshed out, from the sound design and music down to the seemingly trivial details (in the opening scene, for example, hovering over the teddy bear will cause it to cover its eyes).

Also interesting is how much the webcam adds to the experience. It’s a great example of creating new kinds of artistic meaning with technology. This animation could’ve been a simple video… but isn’t it cooler when there’s interactivity involved?



<img src="https://altsalt.s3.amazonaws.com/catalog/article/3/anasomnia-4-1024x648.jpg">



I always love to see artists doing interesting things with the technology at their disposal. Now this is just an idea, but it’d be great to see, for example, an e-book that uses the same webcam principle to add some extra immersion in telling its story.

Ana Somnia was created by German artist <a target="_blank" href="http://www.kimkoester.com">Kim Köster</a>. You can support him by purchasing Ana Somnia posters and other merchandise <a target="_blank" href="https://rostlaub.com">here</a>.

Ana Somnia is a meditation on what it’s like to dream. It’s also a piece that uses a single interactive element to draw us into an animated world, a clever decision that is minimalism at its best.

Get Lost Dark Ana Somnia

Turn out the lights and explore a dream world in Ana Somnia

Los ecos de nuestros ancestros que se escuchan
a través del tiempo y el espacio,
nosotros encontraremos la llave para el futuro,
al mirar en nuestro pasado.

¡Se hace un llamado a toda nuestra gente andina y asiatico americana! AltSalt está creando dos colecciones multidisciplinarias de trabajo creativo, y queremos que seas parte del proyecto.

¿Para quien?: Creadores de zines, escritores, diseñadores, creadores de juegos, creadores de videos, músicos, y creadores de cualquier medio artístico que se identifican como andinos o como asioamericanos.

¿Tópico?: Trabajo en equipos o trabajo independiente para someter una publicación basada en la siguiente idea: “Imaginar o visualizar un futuro en que tu cultura, historia y valores han guiado al mundo a una realidad alternativa, y empleando esa energía, crear una pieza artística que se haga sentir a la par con nuestros tiempos.”

¿Cuándo?: El desarrollo del trabajo se puede empezar tan pronto como leas este mensaje. Ofreceremos un taller el 17-18 de julio, para compartir progreso y conocernos como participantes. Los trabajos finales serán sometidos el domingo 15 de agosto. Los días se van volando- empezemos pronto!

Únete a nuestro Discord (opcional, altamente recomendado)

Aviso: También le damos la bienvenida a personas que quieren colaborar entres ambas culturas. Si quieres trabajar en equipo y combinar la cultura andina y la cultura asiática… HAZLO! Destacaremos proyectos que combinan ambas culturas dentro de una parte especial en las colecciones.

Pensar y recopilación de ideas, formación de equipos, empezar a trabajar



Sábado 17 de julio — Domingo 18 de julio

Talleres de fin de semana para socializar y compartir progreso



Domingo 18 de julio — Domingo 15 de agosto

Continuar trabajando en los proyectos y entrega de proyectos finalizados



Presentación colaborativa y lanzamiento de las colecciones

Nuestra Visión en General — Nuestro propósito es visualizar y crear un mundo alternativo a través de nuestra creatividad colectiva. Para crecer en comunidad, debemos ser curiosos en crecer no solamente personalmente sino también con las multitudes con las que nos cruzamos. Esperamos que esta será la primera de muchas iniciativas para crear solidaridad a través de comunidades y compartir conocimiento. Transcendamos los bordes sociales y conectémonos.

¿Por qué estas dos comunidades? Son las que nosotros, los organizadores, somos más familiarizados, y de las cuales somos parte. ¡Esperamos ofrecer un espacio similar para otras comunidades en AltSalt en el futuro!

Abierto Para Toda Gente Creativa — No importa cuál es tu etapa dentro del proceso creativo, o si tus obras son gratuitas or comerciales, puedes inscribirte.

¿Ya has creado trabajo y quieres incluirlo en las colecciones?



¿Has empezado a trabajar en proyectos creativos pero no has tenido la oportunidad de terminarlos?



¿Eres nuevo en el proceso de crear zines o publicaciones creativas?

¡Serás bienvenido a participar! Solo llenar nuestro formulario, inscribirse a nuestra comunidad de creativos en Discord para encontrar inspiración, colaboradores, o guía, e involucrarte con nuestros próximos eventos.

La colección andina busca destacar trabajos creativos y artísticos en medios y estilos de publicación diversos por creadores que se autoidentifican como andinos/andinas/andinxes. Utilicemos el término ‘andino’ para honrar nuestra historia compartida antes de la colonización, aunque sabemos que hoy estamos muchos acostumbrados a identificarnos por nacionalidad (como peruano o peruano-americano). Apreciamos la complejidad rica de identidades representada en nuestra comunidad y damos la bienvenida a cualquiera para participar que tenga vínculos ancestrales o sociales a los Andes (sea Ecuador, Chile, Argentina, Perú, Bolivia, etc.) y sus diásporas. La identidad andina también es interseccional y se extiende más allá de una dicotomía indígena, español, mestizo, o latinx/latiné. Por esa razón, somos inclusivos de diásporas diversas como las comunidades nikkei del Perú y de las comunidades descendientes de africanos.

Esta colección es por y para nosotros, nuestros ancestros, y futuras generaciones. Nuestra meta es que se sienta familiar y al mismo tiempo enteramente nueva porque incluye perspectivas diversas dentro de nuestro repertorio de culturas, que tan poco se ve representado en la narrativa dominante.

Este es un espacio experimental para explorar tu identidad individual, tu creatividad, y ser parte de nuestra comunidad. Te invitamos a visitarnos, contribuir y colaborar de la manera que sea más interesante para ti.

C O L E C C I O N    A S I A T I C O A M E R I C A N A

La colección asiaticoamericana busca explorar las diversas facetas de las experiencias y herencias culturales variadas de los asioamericanos a través de medios y publicaciones creativas. Esta colección es para y por asioamericanos, incluyendo aquellos quienes sus herencias incluyen Asia del Este, Sureste, y Sur, las islas del Pacífico, y las identidades multiétnicas y diaspóricas.

En definir una colección, las distinciones entre quien está incluido dentro del ‘nosotros’ es incierto. Dentro de nuestras comunidades, hay desigualdades de poder entre los grupos. Diferencias entre ‘asioamericano’ a través de clase socioeconómico, color, género, sexo, religión, estatus migratorio, historia, y origen nacional produce historias desproporcionadas y desbalanciadas, además de encuentros con violencia estatal. Adicionalmente, llamados para comunidad pueden ofrecer unidad estratégica pero borrar los efectos diferentes de racialización y colonización bajo un término general. En vez de exigir inclusión, nuestra colección ofrece un espacio para compartir narratives que se tratan de diferentes interacciones entre historias y experiencias, con aquellos que se identifican como asioamericanos.

Esta colección busca proveer un espacio para explorar la identidad, fortalecer comunidades y crear una fuente creativa para nutrirnos, llenar nuestras almas, y explorar sin restricciones y extender los límites de nuestras imaginaciones, usando nuestra práctica creativa para reflexionar sobre nuestros tiempos compartidos hacia un futuro de liberación colectiva.

¿Interesado? ¡Llena nuestro formulario!

Para visualizar un mundo alternativo, y
porque nuestra representación es importante,
compartiendo conocimiento y consciencia,
crearemos el futuro.

De izquierda a derecha: Arte por Jessica Tin, Jamie San Andres de Rimay Raiz, Layqa Nuna Yawar, Lia Coleman, Felix Kar-wah Fok cortesía de Shirley Man-Kin Leung, Sandy Enriquez, Adina Farinango y Angela DelosReyes. Patrón de fondo por Artemio Morales con agradecedimiento por las enseñanzas de Zadir Milla Euribe, Música por Jonathan Morales. 

¡Se hace un llamado a toda nuestra gente andina y asioamericana! AltSalt está creando dos colecciones multidisciplinarias de trabajo. Queremos que seas parte de este proyecto.

Mundos Alternatives: Los Andes y América Asiatica

"To Dream and Be Intentional" — Interview with Shirley Man-Kin Leung

(Interview)

Every year since my friend Bill committed suicide, his mother and I had exchanged Christmas cards. And I am one of those people who do holiday letters. As I have drifted apart from college friends, those annual missives are the only updates I get or give to them and some others in my life, including Bill’s mother. In the holiday letter of 1997, I had announced to the world that after years of hiding the truth even from myself, I had finally come to terms with being gay.&nbsp;I had just moved to the Normal Heights section San Diego from where I had been living in northern San Diego County, in Carlsbad. The house that I was now renting was on the hill above the Qualcomm Stadium where the 1998 Super Bowl would be held, close enough to hear the blimp engines and we’d be able to walk out to my front porch to see the Blue Angels flyover and watch the fireworks show. I decided to throw a Super Bowl/house warming/coming out party.&nbsp;When I packed for the move from Carlsbad to San Diego, I had vowed I would really weed things out. If I was never going to read that book or wear that shirt again, I’d donate it. Bags of clothes went to Goodwill and boxes of books went to the Carlsbad Library.&nbsp;The Friday before Super Bowl Sunday I still had lots of unpacking to do to and I had promised myself that every single box would be emptied so I’d have Saturday free for party prep. I had about 15 boxes to go and was slicing into them, quickly dispatching whatever I found to the appropriate shelf, closet, or cabinet. Then it happened. I slit open a box that I moved to Carlsbad and from Carlsbad without having ever opened. It had stayed for years out of sight up above my car on the joists of the garage. I knew I was never going to wear the clothes that were in it or read the books or look at the photos hidden in it. In it were all of the things that reminded me of Bill. Photos of the trips we had taken together, music cassettes, books, clothes, and gifts he had given me over the years of our friendship. Shortly after Bill’s death, unable to deal with my guilt and sadness, I had sealed all remembrances of him away and I had no intention of opening that box either before or after the move.&nbsp;Suicide is different. I have lost close friends to cancer and felt terrible, but I never felt guilty. I can’t cure cancer. I couldn’t have done anything to prevent the car accidents that claimed other friends’ lives. But suicide, rightly or wrongly, feels preventable. If I had listened better, if I had been a better friend, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Bill’s suicide haunted me so badly that I couldn’t bear to think about him without it causing days of depression.&nbsp;I opened that box and on top was a bicycling jersey Bill had given me. It made my heart sink. I hadn’t planned to deal with this box now or ever, but in my haste to finish unpacking, I had attacked the box without reading the magic marker warning on the top. Shit. I didn’t have time to deal with this. But the jersey wouldn’t release my stare. I had way too much to do and couldn’t spend time fixating on a stupid shirt. I should just re-seal the box and get back to work. Then I remembered my self-imposed dictum to get rid of anything I would never wear again. But I couldn’t throw it out. It was one of my last tangible reminders of Bill. A reminder I couldn’t bring myself to even look at, let alone wear, so I should just donate it to Goodwill. But I couldn’t give it away. I should just seal the box and deal with another time. But I had to deal with it sometime. I should just throw it out. And so it went, my wheels spinning in the same circle as I faced what I had avoided for years. I also thought of the absurdity of keeping a cycling jersey—my knees were too shot to ride more than a mile or two anyway. My days of riding centuries were over; that was something else Bill and I had in common, our knees had curtailed our serious cycling.I got tired of standing over the box, but still couldn’t let go of the dilemma. I carried the shirt to the living room and held it as I sat and stared at it and replayed the options in my head. Donate it. I can’t. Wear it. I can’t. Only to dismiss them all and start over again. After at least an hour, maybe two, I grew tired of my stupid indecision. I needed to go pick up my mail from my P.O. box before they closed and I hadn’t put a shirt on yet that day, so I just decided, screw it. It’s just a shirt. Put it on and go get the mail.<img src="https://altsalt.s3.amazonaws.com/catalog/article/7/image-7/Ring Crop-152315.jpg" alt="A golden ring on a finger" style="height: auto;width: auto"/>Bill's ringIn that day’s mail was a package slip. I stood in line and gave it to the clerk who retrieved a padded envelope just slightly too large to fit in the box. On it was Bill’s mother’s return address. A month earlier, I had already received my once-a-year communication from her—a card with the usual short note, something to the effect of, “I hope you’re doing well” so I hadn’t expected anything.&nbsp;With great curiosity, I opened the envelope. In it was a gold ring. I recognized it immediately as Bill’s. He treasured that ring and had worn it for years. It had been made for him by his great-uncle, a dentist in England who used scraps of dental gold in wax molds to make jewelry of his own designs. After Bill’s great-uncle’s death, the ring meant even more to him as a daily reminder of the man who had been his surrogate grandfather. Bill and I had that in common, also—we each had a special great-uncle who took the place of the grandfathers we both lacked.&nbsp;After one trip to England to visit his mother’s family, Bill came back heartbroken. He said he had been helping his mother’s brother work in the garden and in the course of the digging and planting apparently the ring had slipped off his wet and slimy finger. He didn’t notice it was gone until they were done and he was washing his hands. They went back the garden and raked and dug and searched. They even borrowed a metal detector, but to no avail. Bill had lost the last piece of his great-uncle and there was no way to replace it.&nbsp;In the package with Bill’s ring was a handwritten note from his mother. She said her brother had been working in his garden and found the ring. He thought she should have it. She received the ring the same day she got my coming out letter and she knew I had to have the ring. She said she was giving it to me by proxy for Bill and that she was happy that I had finally found the self-acceptance that Bill never had. Suddenly everything fell into place. The real reason Bill had killed himself.&nbsp;I sat in the car and cried until I calmed down enough to drive home. It also seemed beyond coincidence that for the first time since Bill had died, I was wearing a shirt he had given me while I was holding his ring.&nbsp;Bill’s death had always been a scab for me. Not an open wound, but a barely-healed scab over a wound I was afraid to go anywhere near for fear of causing damage too deep to handle. I had a hard time ever remembering the good times with Bill since the ending was so horrible and my guilt so overwhelming that I shut out thinking about him at all. With the ring, I felt like he had forgiven me (if there was ever anything to forgive) and I knew I could finally start to think of him without immediately going to the bad places.&nbsp;When I got home, I called a friend of Bill’s in L.A. and asked how soon I could see him. Monday, the day after the Super Bowl, I drove to L.A. to have dinner with him. He and Bill had gone to high school together and lived together in Belgium for almost a year when they were trying to break into the ranks of professional track cyclists. I figured if anyone knew if Bill was secretly gay, he would. He said that even in high school, Bill’s friends had assured him that it was okay to come out. He’d still be their friend, and it would be okay. But Bill always vehemently denied being gay.<img src="https://altsalt.s3.amazonaws.com/catalog/article/7/image-7/IYWH cover small-091429.jpg" alt="A book cover containing the title " style="height: auto;width: auto"/>The memoir containing this and other storiesI asked why he thought Bill was gay and he ran through a list of stereotypical gay interests including liking Morrissey, Lucy, and Marilyn Monroe. The way he dressed and held his cigarette. I had noticed some of those things, but attributed the mannerism to being half English and spending so much time in Europe. (There is the old joke: Is he gay? No, just European.) The friend also said he wondered about my friendship with Bill and how quickly Bill and I became friends when we started working together and Bill at times saying things about me that crossed the line from friendship to crush.&nbsp;The talk helped me understand so much. In my mind I replayed many of the moments I’d had with Bill and they made so much more sense now.&nbsp;Once I sorted out the flood of emotions, I wrote to his mother and told her that far more than his ring, she given me back Bill. I know Bill is still with me. He is a part of me and I can enjoy the good memories without having to dwell on the bad. I cried for days when he died, but had been afraid to since; afraid to start again for fear I’d never stop. I finally let out what I had kept inside. It put one more piece of my old unhappy life behind me, to be even happier out of the closet.&nbsp;I was able to unpack the rest of the box of Bill’s stuff. Wear those shirts again. Look at photos of him, have on display some of the other gifts he had given me.&nbsp;I sent Bill’s mother her annual Christmas card about three years ago and a few days later got an email from a real estate agent in Pasadena. He said he was sorry to inform me that Bill’s mother had died. He said in addition to selling the house for the family in England, he had been asked to check mail and follow up on things that required it. His mother never got over the death of her only son so at least now she was at peace.&nbsp;My eyes are moist and I am wearing his ring as I type this, and although still weirded out by the coincidence of the timing, but there has to be a message here: if I ever needed a final endorsement that I was doing the right thing by choosing to be happy for the first time in my life, Bill’s ring was certainly it.I have had so many people ask about the ring over the years. Sometimes just holding out my credit card to pay in a store, the clerk has grabbed my hand and wanted to look at the ring. Some seemed to sense there is some magic to it and asked if it had a story. Once at a drug store, I started telling the story to the clerk and then I realized a line was forming at the register and I apologized and stepped aside and everyone in the line said, “No, this is good. Go on. Finish the story. Please continue.”&nbsp;◇ ◇ ◇The story of The Coming Out Ring is abridged and adapted from <a href="http://www.waltergmeyer.com/product/werent-not-happening/" target="_blank">If You Weren’t Here, This Would Not Be Happening: plogs from my life</a>.&nbsp;Walter G. Meyer is the co- or ghost-writer of six nonfiction books and his the author of critically-acclaimed, award-winning, and Amazon-bestselling gay-themed novel Rounding Third. He has been on radio and television programs including NPR and he has spoken at colleges, libraries and community centers across the country.&nbsp;Mr. Meyer told his own coming out story in The Los Angeles Times, he has written for all of the major gay publications including Out and Advocate and he has written on LGBT topics for the mainstream press including The San Diego Union-Tribune and The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. His articles have appeared in Kiplinger’s Personal Finance, Orange County Register, Westways, Baja Explorer, and dozens of other magazines and newspapers. He is the co-author of a widely-produced stage play GAM3RS.&nbsp;Originally from Pittsburgh, Mr. Meyer has a degree from the School of Communications at Penn State and currently resides in San Diego.

Every year since my friend Bill committed suicide, his mother and I had exchanged Christmas cards. And I am one of those people who do holiday letters...

The Coming Out Ring

A couple of days ago, I came to Pennsylvania to visit my parents and meet the newest addition to our family, a four-month old puppy named Bruno.

After a 2.5-hour trip out of New York, I arrived among the blossoming trees and cold spring of the Poconos. Getting out of the car into the quiet woods, so different from the bustle of the city, I breathed in the crisp air. It felt, as it always does, like breathing for the first time.

The neighborhood road outside my parents' house in Pennsylvania.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting on coming here. I do know that when I saw Bruno, my world froze as I saw his Irish Setter chocolate eyes, wiry frame, and red-orange fur. I knelt down to pet him, he jumped on me in excitement and my mind and body were instantly transported to the past.

Bruno lying down after an impromptu play session with a bunch of old blankets.

I’d grown up with an Irish Setter too, one that passed away 10 years ago. Seeing Bruno reminded me of physical memories I didn’t even know I had, recalling sensations from when I was nine years old playing with my first puppy.

Things are different now. Yet I’ve been thinking about the different portals we have to our memories, how the present is always intersecting, coexisting, recreating with the past.

This 2000-year-old fabric and its mesmerizing shapes was on display at an Andean textile exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum.

At the Brooklyn Museum, I once attended an Andean textile exhibit, seeing mantles woven 2,000 years ago. Following mesmerizing masterful figures and geometric patterns in the cloth, I recall how the pieces felt so familiar and foreign at the same time.

Inherently, we’re not so different from cultures of a thousand years ago. Yet everything is always in a process of change, akin to proceeding in spirals — what has happened reverberates in the present, transformed, circling back on itself, repeating and digressing — recalling, reinventing, ad infinitum.

I do know that when I saw Bruno, my world froze as I saw his Irish Setter chocolate eyes, wiry frame, and red-orange fur. I knelt down to pet him, he jumped on me in excitement and my mind and body...

Reverberating with the past

Thanks Walter! Lovely story of healing and love.

Walter, this is so beautiful and moving. I resonate a lot with having jewelry that serves as a portal to another person's memories and life and stories.&nbsp;

<a href="/shirley" target="_self">@Shirley Man-Kin Leung</a> Hi Shirley - Thanks for writing. As I wrote in the story, the ring does seem to have a magic power that draws people. They want to talk about it I get to talk about Bill. At times I find myself twisting the ring on my finger and memories come flooding back.&nbsp;

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Blue text on white background: "These are the things they took from us, They left us bare These are the things they couldn’t"

A group of people surrounding a frustrated girl trying to draw, they all seem to be looking at what she's doing.

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Two people in a book store, Jackson and Felix. Felix says, "I'm kinda pissed", Jackson responds and asks, "Why?".

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**SHORTLISTED for the New Media Writing Prize 2017** **SHORTLISTED for the Opening Up Digital Fiction People's Choice Award 2017** **FEATURED in the upcoming Electronic Literature Collection Volume 4 by ELO** **FEATURED in the Babycastles Art Gallery Wordhack Anthology**◇ ◇ ◇"Above the mirror, small and low, hung a fluorescent bulb whose light shone through my skin..."People we love often fade away. As time goes on, how do we remember our relationships, and what insights does that distance afford us?Featuring an original soundtrack, 22 photo illustrations, and a few innovative surprises, A MODERN GHOST explores a young man's memories of a love that was never realized.A prototype story, it is the first release by Artmayu Studios.

A Modern Ghost

Choclo y Chicha Vol. 1

First Generation

See Sandy is a 14 page storybook zine — follow the protagonist (yours truly) through a sunny day of exploring New York City!

This is a trilingual zine in English, Spanish and Quechua. I made this zine with lots of love for my baby niece because I wanted her to grow up knowing, hearing and seeing Quechua. I also made it as a way to continue practicing Quechua and challenging myself to keep learning.

This is written at the beginner level of Quechua.

See Sandy

Making AI Art Responsibly: A Field Guide

Part of the Kiona Ligtvoet’s solo exhibition “These Are the Things” at <a href="https://www.latitude53.org" target="_blank">Latitude 53</a>, this document is collaborator Paxsi's contribution to this gentle attempt at navigating intergenerational barriers to grief, tenderness and longing, in the presence of enfranchisement and personal displacement.In their essay, Paxsi, an Aymara and Welsh-Irish writer and artist, reflects on their Aymara roots as it relates to family connection and their trans non-binary identity.From the author:“I am honoured and privileged to be contributing to this collaboration with this piece of writing which expresses my grief and longing for the things that were taken from me, as well as a celebration of the things that cannot and will never be.“As you reflect upon and consume my words and Kiona’s work, please consider contributing reparations to Kiona’s home community, Michel First Nation, for the legal fees required to reclaim their land and status rights. Reparations can be sent as e-transfers to kionaligtvoet@gmail.com, which will be forwarded to Michel First Nation.”

Letter to Miguel, from “These Are the Things”

The first Cat Scratch Fever comic! 3 short comics in zine format, a total of 12 pages. About a big group of friends and their relationships.The zine is 8.5 by 5.5 inches. The comics were inked traditionally and scanned, then edited in photoshop.!!!!! CAT SCRATCH FEVER IS 18+ !!!! for nudity and adult themes.

Cat Scratch Fever vol. 1

Different Nourishment: Exordium

Riveted in the Word

Choclo y Chicha Vol. 2

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I'm a software developer, director of Artmayu Studios, and founder of AltSalt.I love the digital and literary worlds, especially exploring new kinds of digital literature, from experimental multimedia books to narrative adventure games.Currently, I'm in the process of learning more about my Andean background, and thinking through how to bridge that heritage with the world of technology.

The Andean diaspora* community in the United States is confronted with discrimination and a sense of dual exclusion from both Latinx and white US heritages due to histories of colonialism and imperialism that continue to impose Western epistemologies across time and borders. Rima(y) Raíz, an Andean diaspora collective based in NYC, NJ, IL and CA, confronts these issues by documenting and sharing inter-generational oral hxstories of the Andean diaspora in efforts to reclaim a sense of identity, alter dominant narratives about their communities, preserve experiences and knowledge of their elders for the next generation, and create a sense of solidarity. &nbsp;We are inspired by Andean notions of time, space, and community such as pachakutik and the ayllu and we choose oral hxstory as a medium due to its inter-disciplinary, borderless nature. Oral hxstory also acts as a way to decolonize the production of knowledge. The main components of the project are (1) interview three generations across the US-Andean diaspora, including community leaders (2) archive the oral histories in a public website, (3) share and discuss the stories via a podcast, zine, public space installations, and virtual Raymi or parties, and (4) organize gatherings of Andean organizations and leaders to celebrate and unite cultural advocacy efforts.Coloniality may have traversed time and space, but so has our resistance.*The Andean diasporic community includes people with South American heritage from Andean countries such as Bolivia, Ecuador, and Peru. Hence, Rimay Raiz utilizes the term Andean to refer to this region of South America, as opposed to folks that are strictly from the highlands. We remain inclusive of the many nationalities in the Andean region, and recognize that people that may identify with diverse backgrounds, such as that of the coast and the Amazon, Black, Indigenous, mestizo, and we welcome all people who identify with our mission and background, whether they are recent immigrants, second generation, or have not connected to their ancestral countries for generations.

I am gardener and composter passionate about equity in the food system. Quinoa scholar and oral history and community archive enthusiast. Runasimita yachapakuq. Member of the Rimay Raiz colectivo.&nbsp;

Ecuadorian-American sociologist, of Huancavilca and Kichwa descent. Bi-coastal, born in Queens, NY and raised in both NY and CA. Musician, community activist, project coordinator at an immigrant and workers rights org, and co-founder of Rimay Raiz.&nbsp;

Bridging the worlds of the West and Andes through storytelling...Artmayu is a digital book production studio, and the studio behind AltSalt!Our name comes from Artemis, the Greek goddess of the moon, and Mayu, the celestial river from Andean cosmology.In addition to maintaining the AltSalt website, we make animated ebooks, games, and other creative digital projects.

Editorial content by the AltSalt team.

Shirley identifies as a queer, asian-american woman of color. She works as a community organizer in Northern Colorado and as a yoga teacher. When not being self-referential in a bio, you can find her painting watercolors, biking around town, dancing, or reading a book.

Imanalla! I'm Sandy, a zinester librarian in sunny southern California. I started making zines as a way to practice and maintain Quechua, my ancestral language and one of the most widely spoken Indigenous languages of the Americas. I now feel like I have too many zine ideas and too little time, but I try to make it work!&nbsp;I participate in several Andinx community projects like the annual May Sumak Quichwa Film Showcase and oral history collective Rimay Raíz. I love creating spaces for our community to share our cultures, languages, and experiences in the diaspora.&nbsp;In my spare time, I enjoy reading/watching things in the realms of sci-fi, fantasy, or horror. I also like to weave and garden (especially with, you guessed it, Andean potatoes!).&nbsp;

ᎠᏂᏴᏫᏯ / Cherokee ᎠᏎᎩ ᎠᏓᏅᏙ / Twospirit I enjoy extravagant patterns, psychedelic colors, and interesting lines. Stories that deal with Indigenous peoples' histories and religions as well as modern issues are what I crave. I research native plants + fungi + lichens especially in regards to those used as food and medicine. I also study architecture and industrial design with a particular affinity for anything in the realm of Art Deco.

Writing, scriptwriting, andean ethnofuturism, nueva trova, improvised music, folk music, non white centric SciFi, decolonization and decolonising art

I'm a writer and cartographer. I mostly write scif/fantasy and have worked on some table top rpg projects such as the in*die zine and unbreakable rpg. I manage the integral states project, where I draw US states and territories as fantasy maps and pair them with pre-colonial histories.&nbsp;

Envisioning an alternative world

Joel

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