Art can be likened to an encounter with the Divine. In both forms, there is a confession of one’s true self and a creative expression of love for the Other. It is spiritual on all levels. This is especially true for Illinois-based artist, photographer, and writer Chelsea Ballinger, who was raised by her mother, an ordained pastor.

A conversation with Leuchtner gives the impression that she doesn’t dwell on things, a surprising twist, since artists do tend to be dwellers, don’t they? They dwell on the past, on death, on love. Feeling for its own sake falls by the wayside, and Leuchtner seems to have picked it up.

Adrian Octavius Walker is an American mixed-media artist currently working and living in Chicago, Illinois, from St. Louis, Missouri. His work is inspired by the Black body and the dynamics of the Black family—the story of us. The Black Gaze is brought forward. As we understand its strength, we allow ourselves to roll around in it, simmer in its intensity, and discover the joy of its inherent beauty.

This ambiguity is what makes photographer Juliet Cangelosi’s snapshot of a blank billboard during a trip to L.A so much more. She took the shot because she felt the scene of an empty white billboard in the colorful City of Angels was significant. In a place where dreams are made and stars are born, an emptiness remains.

It seems inevitable that Isamar Medina’s fascination with small things would become something bigger; what’s surprising is the pace at which it’s happened. The 26-year-old artist’s Slaps Show—a group show focused on selling affordable sticker art by artists from across the country—is approaching its third iteration in just over a year, and Medina says the amount of interest in the show from both artists and attendees has been shocking. For the June 2019 Slaps Show, Medina said people were lining up three hours before opening in the hopes of getting an original piece. It was quite a surprise for Medina, who started the show as a way to make visual art accessible and affordable to those who may feel shut out.

It’s been up and down. It was a huge part of my life, and I absolutely fell in love with it when I was 14. I was always shooting and editing. I think of it like a relationship you would have with a friend or a lover. There are times with photography where I’m absolutely obsessed with it, and I just want to shoot and create. There are other times I don’t pick up my camera for months, but I don’t really think too much of it. I don’t like forcing myself to be obsessed with it, because I think that it creates some disconnect with my work.

The water is boundless, an entity they find themselves wanting to get lost in. It’s a game of trust, one where they pray the aqua pura catches them before they succumb to dilapidated depths and glide over a classic element of creation. Life began here in the dominant form of earth. The waves exist as creator, preserver, and destroyer—it’s the unpredictable nature of its power that entices them as they dive in deeper, letting the current sweep them away.

Mirrors have always been a tool of magic for seeing into the future and getting a glimpse into fate. We see reflections as a vehicle for story telling from figures in Greek mythology like Narcissus to contemporary media such as Snow White. My work comes out of a need to photograph and a need to make.

Objects represented in miniature are fairly common—dollhouses, toys, and even art showcase narratives depicted on a small scale. Miniatures are an incredibly tactile art form and beg to be picked up and fiddled with. The miniature scenes created by Tammie Knight ignite that sense of excitement to explore while inviting one to place themselves inside the space. You can see yourself relaxing on the red velvet couch with a good book and sipping tea in “A Peek in the Victorian Parlor” or cooking in the extravagant kitchen in “The Busy Chef’s Kitchen.”

There's the political power on which we stand from and people who have done this before us. I think it's quite significant. There’s so many examples like the Suffragettes or Virginia Woolf, who had her own publishing house. I think [conventional printing restrictions] are freed up, we're saying if you want to use purple ink or if you want to use pink ink, we get to do that. And then there's another intersection there, which is the fact that we choose to print because it's the most personal, tactile form of distributing content.

It was toward the end of Karasz’s life in the 1960s and 70s that textile works began to enter fine art shows consistently, as a result of the craft movement, which pushed for the re-centering of fiber arts within the Western art canon. The movement has had meager success; textile artists that are now considered canonical eschewed traditional craft forms for the same reasons as the patriarchal exclusionists, favoring instead abstracted fiber forms. The number of accepted craft artists in fine art circles remain few, and they are predominately made up of white women.

With a magazine of her own came questions of how to make it the space she had dreamed. “I am a Black woman myself, and I was very fortunate in that my family has always prioritized diversity,” she said. With close LGBTQ+ relatives and a community of BIPOC and POC, Rayn always cared for and about communities marginalized in society. So, it was with that mindset she set Caldera’s submission requirements: only showcasing work from Black, Indigenous, POC and 2SLGBTQIA+ individuals.

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Beauty is in the beholders themselves. This is why these eight contemporary Asian photographers, analog or digital, are making names for themselves in the industry. From China and Manila to New York, each of them have brought distinct visions to their craft with their eye for composition, color, and movement.

This pandemic has not been kind to everyone, especially not to street photographers. When the urban jungle is the stage for your craft, quarantine does not work in your favor. And as responsible world citizens, it simply isn’t an option to risk lives for the perfect shot.

If what’s personal is political and art is personal, then art in all its form must be political. As artists, our work is inseparable from our personal politics. Our craft reflects how we see the world at such a pivotal point in history. Therefore, protest becomes necessary in bringing to light unjust systems and our personal internalized biases.

2020’s Pride month has been unlike any in recent history. With most of the world indoors to avoid coronavirus, streets are devoid of the usual parades, protests, and parties that accompany the season.

Art plays an important role in finding a sense of normalcy in this pandemic-ridden world. Thankfully, despite being locked up inside our homes, technology allows us to virtually walk inside art museums, take photo walks through Google Maps, hold online art exhibits in our pajamas, and join art workshops halfway around the world.

Sehar Sufi is a Pakistani-American, Muslim photographer and writer interested in representing the complexities of people of color. Her mission is to make work in which these marginalized groups see a reflection of themselves as beautiful and human.

Bria DuBose’s eyes widened slightly at the drawing on the northmost wall of the DuSable gallery. On it was a piece by Chicago artist and activist Dr. Margaret Taylor-Burroughs titled “Little Girl.” It depicts a young African American girl with her head tilted as she stares into the eyes of passersby.