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Kreative Kwame
I work in mixed media, printmaking. This usually involves several of these: acrylic paint, ink, marker pen or color pencil, paper weaving, collage and printmaking and performance.
Traditional healers and “sorcerers” have over the years claimed that people with albinism are “ghosts” who never die but merely disappear. In many parts of East Africa, people with albinism are targeted for their body parts, which some believe hold magical powers and bring good fortune. Albinism is a genetic condition that causes a deficit in the biosynthesis of melanin, a pigment that colours the skin, hair and eyes. “banaoroko” is an aspiring artist. I met him at a theatre close to where I work. He was there for rehearsal for a talent show due the next day. I introduced myself to him as an aspiring photographer and said I’ll love for us to make visual statements together. He opened up to me about dealing with colorism. “Dealing with stares from birth sounds a bit tough, but you get used to it” he said. We went on to plan a creative shoot which was so fun! I learnt a lot from him. Here is our visual statement.
The year 2019 was revolutionary for me. Amidst an internal conflict in my country Cameroon that had been going on for 3 years, changing the very way we live, I found the courage to share my love for art and created my IG page where I hoped to share my creations.
I could never imagine this journey will lead me here. It was an escape from the realities we faced. I remember searching “how to edit cinematic photos that tell a story” on YouTube. I immediately went out with my then iPhone 7 and began shooting expressive photos. I’ve always liked the idea of creating photos in a series accompanied by an essay on the theme chosen. The interpretation of these often thought provoking photos that touch on different subjects is left for the viewer to decipher for themselves.
Lior Locher
I work in mixed media, printmaking. This usually involves several of these: acrylic paint, ink, marker pen or color pencil, paper weaving, collage and printmaking and performance.
I work in mixed media, printmaking. This usually involves several of these: acrylic paint, ink, marker pen or color pencil, paper weaving, collage and printmaking and performance. I just launched my first film. I love bright colors and media that dry quickly so you can add more layers. Printmaking adds science, whimsy and cool kit, elements that are fixed and yet vary from print to print. Collage was my first love and still plays a prominent role. It started with travel ephemera and a fascination with Japanese origami paper and traditional patterns while living there, and has since expanded to anything that’s flat and sticks. In my other life I trained in personal development, coaching and psychotherapy as well as teaching different styles of yoga. I continue to be fascinated by our inner lives as humans, how we make sense of our own journeys and experiences, and how our mind and body come together. Our lives always involve picking up what already is, at that point in time, and recombining it to move forward, adding our own flavor. Often ripping things up and starting again, layers and sedimentations that form over time into something uniquely ours. That applies to life and art. Mixed media work is a great way to capture this.
Letter from the Editor
When Andy Plattner asked me to join the editorial team of The Headlight Review in the spring of last year, I brought along my history of editing literary magazines in the Midwest. Although I was prepared to find the South different from the Rust Belt, it didn’t occur to me that even the literary magazines here might be just a little bit different.
Dear reader,
When Andy Plattner asked me to join the editorial team of The Headlight Review in the spring of last year, I brought along my history of editing literary magazines in the Midwest. Although I was prepared to find the South different from the Rust Belt, it didn’t occur to me that even the literary magazines here might be just a little bit different.
At least according to its mission statement, THR does not focus on regional literature. And, yet, by virtue of our place, our staff, and our contributors, we find hints of the New South in the pieces of this issue. Without seeking them out, we have stories of racial tension and progress here in the South, poems of southern music, food, and masculinity, and, of course, we have southern ghosts. The pieces of this issue explore our struggles to come of age, to understand ourselves, and to wrest language into authentic service.
The editorial team and I are proud to present this collection of fiction, poetry, and artwork as a testament to the brilliance of our authors and our own efforts to serve authentically in the last six months. In that time, we also awarded the 2023 Grooms Prize, judged by Anna Schachner. Begun to honor Anthony Grooms for his service here at KSU and his contributions to literature, the Grooms Prize awards $250 and a bespoke publication to a piece of quality short fiction. This year’s winner, Anita Lo’s “52 Pick-Up,” reveals a bold new voice confronting the difficulty of family and growing up. It appears in this issue alongside our two other finalists for the prize.
We have restructured the journal’s masthead for this issue, and I want to thank our guest editors, Gregory Emilio and Melanie Sumner, who edited our poetry and fiction sections respectively. Their hard work and insight have shaped those sections, and we’re immensely fortunate to have the benefit of their contributions.
Brittany Files, our Managing Editor, has been essential to sustaining THR as I came into this role. Brittany designs and publishes the website, works with our authors, and, in short, makes this publication possible, and I thank her for her service.
We also benefited this year from the hard work of Antwan Bowen, who serves as THR’s Social Media Manager, and I thank him, too, for his dedication to learning the ins and outs of publishing and for advocating on behalf of the magazine and our activities.
Finally, I want to thank Andy Plattner for offering me the opportunity to join this team. Though he will deny it, his dedication to THR has driven the journal from its inception. I’m happy to report that Andy and I have undertaken many exciting initiatives to carry his vision into the future. We’ve begun producing interviews with authors, planning a series of critical writings, undertaking some community service activities, and even designing a print edition of the magazine. About all of which, more in the next issue.
With this issue, we recommit ourselves to our mission to promote new creative writing that demonstrates the persistent value of imaginative literature. I’m especially excited to emphasize the diverse perspectives of this issue and to encourage many more new and emerging writers to join us in exploring what it means to find ourselves in a new place and a new time still haunted by the legacies of our past.
Sincerely,
Kurt Milberger, Editorial Director
Madeline O’Neill
In my work, I strive to highlight the hardships many minorities endure at the hands of American society and the modern world.
In my work, I strive to highlight the hardships many minorities endure at the hands of American society and the modern world. Typically, this inspires me to use my platform to emphasize the resilience and passion of the Indigenous population of North America, also those of the Muslim religion. It is important to bring forth the power and impact Indigenous cultures have on modern society, as we are advanced because of their diverse and inclusive culture. We should strive to have such diversity in our lives as well!
Tyrone Mckie
Drawing pencils capture fleeting ideas from my inner world and the world at large. These then transform into surreal digital paintings brought to life in Photoshop.
My artistic practice delves into the complexities of human experience, using digital paintings and digital collages as my tools of exploration. Drawing pencils capture fleeting ideas from my inner world and the world at large. These then transform into surreal digital paintings brought to life in Photoshop. With my digital collages, I curate fragments from various media sources, weaving them together to build a rich tapestry of imagery and often typography. As in our lives, where seemingly disparate elements coalesce to form our unique narrative, this artistic process reflects the interconnectedness of reality.
At its core, my art fuels a journey of self-discovery and a yearning to understand the world and universe around me. It's a visual conversation that invites viewers to explore their own emotions, ponder their place in the grand scheme, and engage with the questions that lurk beneath the surface. My work doesn't often offer easy answers, but instead invites contemplation and reflection, encouraging viewers to appreciate the beautiful complexities and contradictions inherent in being human.
Self Portrait as a Blushing Petal, Nestled into the Melt
My cousin told me he found / Jesus, which was the easy part / since he couldn’t find his way / out of Brooklyn. Then this morning / it was so quiet you could hear / a cat walking. By noon the wind / kicked in making the trees swing / like Count Basie and the traffic / sounded like his horn section.
I felt the seams of sky loosen and balloon over us the day I pedaled to your house, / my white skirt billowing behind me. Before, the ache did not disturb. Before, I clung to my / wake, vermilion and veined. I don’t know why the sun raked at my back, intensely begged me / to make my way to you. Does a crocus question / its readiness to bloom? Del Playa stretched open—this is where we kissed, the saltiness sealing familiarity on our lips. How many blackflies / have swarmed us since the night, digging us a ditch, / picking up next fight? Rousing our panic / like scattering field mice? But we floated / above this traffic, our bodies satin / in suspension, the tendrils / of our fingers irreversibly / and invisibly tangled, / and I can’t / and won’t / explain / this enigma, / a sweet fragrance / of red hibiscus / glazing over us / This stem, aerial, and erect. / These stipules, present, and free. / Our fusion protects a younger leaf— / look how she collects the dew, drinks in light / every time laughter shakes our joints. She may never know / how we suffered and recovered from two hard frosts. The blight crystallized, / thought never hardening us. I prefer this side of the story, how we came out warm. / and a bit weathered on the other end. I want to cup the syrupy smell in my hands again.
for her, an offering / of what love can cocoon. / Maybe now it’s plumeria / perfuming this place, / interlaced with the urge to love you / harder, love you even when / the biggest freeze of all towers over us, / livid and lethal. And yet-this stem, deep-rooted. / This blushing petal, nestled into the melt- / shivering in the delicate spring wind. / when you cradle me, heat flares. / When the stars spin / in wild directions, / you say, Burn, burn, / and explode into everything / you touch.