Living Master: Jeremy Lipking

By Michael Zakian In a remarkably short period of time, Jeremy Lipking has emerged as one of the country’s premier realist artists. His talent, which rivals that of the late 19th century painterly realists such as John Singer Sargent, Joaquin Sorolla, and Anders Zorn, is outstanding for a painter of...

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By A. Michaelle Yarbrough The music of the crescendo plays so sweet As she moves across the floor so gracefully To a soothing gentle blossoming beat Her motion paints pictures of love lost painfully He’s just a prop to accompany in the duet A place of joy and pride stretched...

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By Damian Robin On a night-lit street, an empty pizza box Staggers against a wall like thrown-off knickers. Its flat and grey insides have darker shapes of grey, Tagged serrated cheese, and snagged tomato skin. Ugly, like the marks on tortured people’s skin. Or awkward stories you may read from...

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By Catherine Tufariello Their shrieks careening dizzily between Delight and outrage, the students in the yard Are playing hard, Though they have little room and nothing green In their asphalt pen.  Nothing but fences, bricks, And at regulation height, a pair of hoops From which gray loops Vestigially descend.  With...

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Photos Track Medieval Icelandic Sagas

NEW YORK—The English-speaking world has the tales of King Arthur. The Arab world has “One Thousand and One Nights.” The Scandinavian people of Iceland have the “Íslendingasögur,” or “The Sagas of Icelanders”—which are arguably more embedded in the landscape of its people than other ancient tales. While the English might...

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By Aubrey Henderson The sweet silence evades me these long days, When I can close my eyes and hear God speak, Without words, He dissipates the dark haze, Occupying my being with the grand mystique. I never wanted to cause affliction To you or any sentient being, Yet in my...

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Flash Point for New Renaissance

By Evan Mantyk NEW YORK—A new vigor for classical arts, like another Renaissance, was in the air at the Institute of Classical Architecture and Art, in Manhattan, where the lifelike sculptures of Sabin Howard were on exhibit earlier this year. “Real art uplifts you, it transforms you,” said award-winning novelist...

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By Michael T. Young Ice is the past tense of water, is verb condensed to noun, pure speed contracted to a stasis of glitter, a brief foam frozen in marble beads, the memories that can’t recede. It is the practice of winter habits, of hibernating inhabitants hoarding the landscape, seeds...

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Coming of Falun Holy King

"Coming of Falun Holy King" Oil on Canvas (42 x 156 inches) 2007, Kunlun Zhang, Xiaoping Chen. From the pinnacle of the cosmos descends the Holy Falun (“Law Wheel”) King. His radiant presence brims here with redemptive grace. Layered tiers of different hues underfoot portray different planes of existence through...

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By Dan Skorbach The tired eyes have earned their time for resting The mind won't think and feet will move no more, And when the smallest pillow seems a blessing That's when the night is almost at your door. And as she enters, with her comes the wonders Echoing hum...

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Why Poetry Should be Metered

Poetry should be metered, because metered poetry is, quite simply, better than free verse.  This is for the same reason that realist art trumps impressionist art and that Baroque music trumps rock and roll and hip-hop. It is because art, in its best state, is not about the experience of...

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‘Let None Dare Call It Beauty’ by Adam Sedia

  By Kara Lysandra Ross I was in Epcot Center in Disney World last year, and in the Innovations Center they had a computerized survey, which had already been taken by thousands of people. The survey was based on what broad issues or groups the participants thought were going to...

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By Chen Z'iang (Translated by Lan Hua) The orchids birthed Through spring And summer both Such luxuriant growth How can leaf Be so green Hidden and alone In the forest remote The vermillion flowers Hang from a purplish stem Slowly absorbing The light as the Daytime fades And with the...

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By Robert Crawford By August I noticed the lack of care, And now in September I feel the despair; The rusting tools, the vanished rows, Reveal an all too brief affair. The hopeful beginning has come to a close As a meeting place for sinister crows And devious weeds planning...

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The Red Dragon Slayer

In the picture above, a Chinese citizen writes the words "Tui Dang" (literally "Quit Party") signifying his resignation from the Chinese Communist Party. Since the publishing of the “Nine Commentaries on the Communist Party” by the Chinese language edition of The Epoch Times in November, 2004, Chinese people have been...

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By Dan Skorbach If I could talk to trees and meet with mighty lions, If I could ride the winds and gain the moon’s advice, I’d ask how they command the forces of the wild, And how they see the earthly beings through their eyes. If I could climb a...

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By Aubrey Henderson Reluctantly I emerged from natures Soothing womb; forsaking the assuagement Of community, for the dark lament Emanating from the hearts of strangers In a greyhound station.  Countless dangers Swarm from screens like locusts, breeding the descent Of a nation; grief and fear circumvent Reason and compassion, fueling...

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