From 1455’s Movable Type, Issue 13 (peruse the complete archives, here).
So, what’s next? It’s possible this endeavor could continue to evolve and grow in the right ways, or we might eventually face the reality that running an arts-oriented non-profit that doesn’t sell anything is never going to be feasible as a business proposition. For now, I intend to exist as comfortably as possible in this space where, as a writer, I’m both a supporter and participant in the so-called Literary Industry. I’ll also acknowledge, with concern, that this space—and arts in general—has become more of a zero-sum game—whether it’s the book publishing or music or movie industry, there are increasingly less risks taken or tolerated; funding and promotion generally goes to the established, and so much worthwhile creative output is getting lost in the margins. As I’ve opined many times during the last decade, it’s never been easier to get one’s work into the world, and it’s seldom been more difficult, considering all this competing product, to be noticed.
I see part of my life’s work helping champion voices that might otherwise remain unheard, while connecting communities in an increasingly bifurcated climate that creates barriers and isolation. A win for me is helping facilitate communication and connection amongst passionate people who might otherwise never engage with or discuss things they care about with people outside their bubble. What I’m saying is, we know these dislocations are a pressing sociopolitical issue, but they also pertain very much to the art world.
As such, I am proud to repeat that 1455’s mission is transparent as it is positive: we celebrate storytelling and connect communities, by any means possible. I think we’d all agree this has never been more critical, for our collective and individual well-being. Our commitment to keeping all our programming free is non-negotiable; this includes events like tonight, our annual Young Poets Contest, our monthly Author Series, our digitial e-zine Movable Type, our workshops, and public events.
After a supremely productive 2021, I’m at once happy and humbled to note that 2022 was another wonderful year in terms of creative industry and pieces published. Of course, it’s not about the publications but the process. Or put another way, it’s more important (and meaningful) to feel satisfied with the work, and less so what happens to it. That said, the goal of serious writing is to engage, and a successful effort initiates some type of dialogue, or connection, bringing full circle what begins, necessarily, as a deeply personal act created in isolation.
Thinking back on a year where we expected profound change (some of it happened, certain things we hoped or expected for didn’t, and in many ways we are sadly back to a sort of stalemate we experienced almost two years ago), I felt at times informed, infuriated, and inspired, which seems just about right. Throughout the year I found myself recalling the legend of King Canute and his imperious attempt to repel the tides. In simpler times, this allegory spoke succinctly and indelibly to man’s hubris, as well as our impermanence. Today, the perverse synergy of our action and inaction (all we do, all we’re not doing)—driven by greed, abetted by denial—suggests a profound disconnect between the world we imagine and the one we’re busy creating, in our image. Once again, we must find the words that lead to action, cognizant that both change and hope begin inside our minds and hearts.
Onward to 2023, and let’s hope for continued conversation and connection.
January
Ornette Coleman’s Question, courtesy of Jerry Jazz Musician.
Black and Blue Collar: A Triptych, courtesy of Exterminating Angel Press.
John Coltrane’s Ascent, courtesy of The Decadent Review.
Thelonious Monk’s Moods, courtesy of Jerry Jazz Musician.
Anthropogenic, courtesy of Book of Matches.
February
My Uncle’s Garage, courtesy of Blood and Thunder.
Ian McDonald: MVP of the Best Prog Rock Album Ever, Medium.
March
William Hurt: The Complete Package, Medium.
April
The Centennial of Charles Mingus, Medium.
Chef’s Second Chance, courtesy of The Decadent Review.
May
Ray Liotta: Goodbye to a Goodfella, Medium.
June
Howlin’ Wolf’s Harp, courtesy of The Decolonial Passage.
Hagler vs. Hearns, 1985, courtesy of 805 Lit + Art.
The Gold Bullet, courtesy of Maryland Literary Review.
July
South Loudoun Street, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow, courtesy of The Blue Mountain Review.
After Chester Higgins’s “Bowery Denizen, 1985,” courtesy of The Decadent Review (Pushcart Prize Nominated.)
I Want To Write Poems, courtesy of The Remington Review.
In My Cups, courtesy of Flash Fiction Magazine.
South Loudoun Street, Mid-Afternoon Saturday, courtesy of Triggerfish Critical Review.
The Insane Dog in the Alley, courtesy of Triggerfish Critical Review.
August
Chet Baker’s Smog, courtesy of Jerry Jazz Musician.
Ghost Poem, courtesy of Washington Writer’s Publishing House.
South Loudoun Street, First Sustained Frost, courtesy of Plum Tree Tavern.
The Voices in Your Head, courtesy of Plum Tree Tavern.
September
The Sound & Vision of Pharoah Sanders, Medium.
Barbara Ehrenreich and the Dignity of Labor, Medium.
October
Richard Pryor on the Sunset Strip, 1982, courtesy of The Decadent Review.
Lightnin’ Hopkins’s Bottle, courtesy of The Blue Mountain Review.
November
Kurt Vonnegut at 100, Medium.
December
The Fire Sermon: “The Waste Land” at 100, Medium.
Pelé: Ambassador of Joy, Medium.
Running, courtesy of The Coachella Review.
