Call and Response: Collaboration at a Distance Round 12
In March 2020 when we went on lockdown due to the pandemic, the Shoebox Arts team created “Call and Response: Collaboration at a Distance” as a way to stay connected and to check in with and support each other. We are now going into Round 13 and have enjoyed the process, experiences and friendships that we have made. The project draws on the tradition of Jazz and Exquisite Corpse as a way for the artists to ping pong creatively off of each other. We are looking forward to continuing on for as long as we are needed.
Please join us for the opening reception of the online exhibition via zoom Saturday March 11, 11am-1pm pst.
Featured Artists:
Adriana Zúñiga Velásquez, Stacey Moore, Aidan Mirowsky, Pradnya Kapshikar, Ameyalli Gutiérrez, Azucena “Susie” Trejo Williams, Anne M Bray, Moya Devine, ASHLEY HESTER, Chrystal Robinson-Shofroth, ASHWIN A C, Kelly Clark, Aya Sabry, Alise Sheehan, Brenda Oelbaum, Nino Khundadze, Bushra Gill, Corinne Lightweaver, Candice Greathouse, Mizz Conchi Sanford, Carla Pohl, Priscila Huerta Avila, Debra Vodhanel, Lara Buffard, Elisabeth Kelvin, Zara Kuredjian, Eva Lin Fahey, Mary Frances Christine Ruffatto, Eva-Marie Amiya, VIJAY RAGHAVAN, ilke ilter, Beatrice (Bea) Antonie Martino, Joan Green, Kerrie Smith, Jody Zellen, Anda Marcu, Julie O’Sullivan, Charlotte Forté-Parnell, Kamelyta, Francisco Alvarado, Kim Niehans, Beth McCoy, Kristen Stephen, Aazam Irilian, Larisa-Elena Stan, Shirley Murphy, Leo Francisco, Clara Bolle, Lina Kogan, Genie Davis, Lucy Julia Hale, Ann Storc, Lyla Paakkanen, BEATRICE WOLERT, Matt Milligan, Joseph Alford, Michael Irudayaraj, Jesse Klassen, Michele “Mish”, Ibuki Kuramochi, Michele Mekel, Tina Minal, Michelle Rozic, john hogan, MYLES BROWN, Sabene Rizvi, Pau Gold, Cybil Cavalieri, Pia MYrvoLD, Bimbola Akinbola, Rebecca Bennett Duke, Theodore Heublein, Reksi Muhammad Sidik, Ivonne Navas Dominguez, Rory Sloan, Jennifer Hathaway, Sean-Michael Gettys, Gabriel Embeha, Stacie Birky Greene, ADEOLA DAVIES-AIYELOJA, Stacy Prihoda, Samantha Ayers, Theresa Francisco, Victoria Martino
Call and Response: Collaboration at a Distance Round 1 can be seen here Round 2 can be seen here Round 3 can be seen here and Round #4 can be seen here Round 5 can be seen here Round 6 can be seen here Round 7 can be seen here Round 8 can be seen here Round 9 can be seen here Round 10 can be seen here Round 11 can be seen here
Round 13 is open for participation through March 28 at 4pm pst. Info on how to submit is here
Cover photo by Lyla Paakkanen
Artist talk held on March 13, 11am PST
Adriana Zúñiga Velásquez and Stacey Moore
Aidan Mirowsky and Pradnya Kapshikar
Ameyalli Gutierrez and Azucena Susie Trejo Williams
Anne M Bray and Moya Devine
Ashley Hester and Chrystal Robinson
Aya Sabry and Alise Sheehan
dav 
dav 
dav 
Bimbola Akinbola and Pia MYrvolD
Brenda Oelbaum and Nino Khunadze
16 Nino Khundadze Scream
Scream
Dots fill in spaces,
Lines connect with lines,
Past runs out of the time,
Present crosses the mind!
Memories overload the cup,
Wounds start to bleed in pain with blood,
Feelings are impossible to cope,
I want to run, but I stop!
Soul screams, but there is no sound.
Heart bleeds, but blood is nowhere to be found.
Eyes cry, but no tears to wipe.
I open my mouth to speak, but I scream!
Still no sound!
26 Nino Khundadze Behind cry_smile
When you cry
the earth is crying!
When you smile
the universe smiles!
Bushra Gill and Corinne Lightweaver
Candice Greathouse and Conchi Sanford
Carla Pohl and Priscila Huerta
Debra Vodhanel and Lara Buffard
Elisabeth Kelvin and Zara Kuredjian
Eva Lin Fahey and Mary Ruffatto
Eva-Marie Amiya and Vijay Raghavan
Processed with MOLDIV 
Processed with MOLDIV
Ilke Ilter and Beatrice Antonie Martino
Ivonne Navas Dominguez and Reksi Muhammad Sidik
Joan Green and Kerrie Smith
Jody Zellen and Anda Marcu
Julie O’Sullivan and Charlotte Forté-Parnell
Kamelyta and Francisco Alvarado
Kim Niehans and Beth McCoy
Kristen Stephen and Aazam Irilian
Larisa-Elena Stan and Shirley Murphy
Leonardo Francisco and Clara Bolle
Lina Kogan and Genie Davis
2B Genie Davis
Layer
Within the architecture of a dream
I stand,
room upon room.
Within the ritual of loss
I can
traverse every ruin.
I see the squares that form a circle,
the eddies in the waves,
the lies that slip
to save us,
and those we wash away.
Cities and shorelines
rise, fall, fade.
Your history becomes
my memory,
your sorrow, my stage.
Into each layer of forgiveness,
through the passing strange,
take the road in wonder ridden,
be the celibates of change.
4C Genie Davis
Pause Break
You are taking a pause,
a break,
but you break things.
Tab back and forth
thinking things can change,
back the way they came,
like how it rains,
when the dead die.
Bury me beneath this sea.
Life is brief, and we are flame,
flicker out in sudden blame.
Ahead there is another light.
Burn bright there.
The living go down,
go on down,
go on, down.
N never again,
E enjoy.
D desire me.
A agony because you cannot,
pause this.
Break the bank.
Tab back –
tab forward.
Either way
the curve is deep and lovely.
Either way
the angle is sharp, unscalable.
Be round like the moon,
square as the window,
steep as the roof,
opaque as the view.
Clear as the sky,
dark as the sea,
red as the waiting,
blue again – breathe.
Pause.
Break.
Stay.
Leave.
8B Genie Davis
Knowledge
The chemistry of sizzling
light
cuts through the city of darkness,
where iron pyrite
combustible with water,
joins elements that mimic
volcanoes.
The wide beach
arcs toward illuminated hills
and a dark and wondrous sea.
There floats every lie and
cursed word
every impulsive reckoning.
Speak in the haste of the heart
and regret it,
worn by exhaustion
and the unheard, undiagnosed
untruths. Oh, to float back to
the halcyon days of plastered-over
peace.
The legacy of loss, revenge for
recognition,
unkindness, unlove.
You cannot measure.
Not with the balance of
periodic tables
or the weight of pain and ages.
I do not yet know
what I have gained.
On balance, none of us
ever do.
Birth guarantees
nothing. But a certain
sunrise bright
before the rain
that took us to the beery boardwalk
one summer
amid the dunes of being young.
An artist stood painting the sun’s portrait,
we watched him –
half in love.
He said, smoking,
ladies, I do not know the combustion point.
But I do accept the formula of knowledge.
10B Genie Davis
End Point
So this is it
the point of no return,
from which ships cast off
And new lives are born.
So this is it
the door has finally sealed.
There is no path forward,
despite the appeals.
So this is now,
and that was then.
A time of change and reckoning.
You see the light,
darkness fell.
You know the truth,
it’s just as well –
you began the ruse
But cannot tell –
you broke your spell
of only lies,
leaving when you
lose the disguise.
So this is it,
so long, farewell.
I knew it would come,
because time does tell.
And so this is that time,
as sunset flies
in the commanding
dark of the burning sky.
12B Genie Davis
Perfect Passed
Have you ever seen something perfect?
Treasure it, hold it,
watch it get crushed?
When we all go to dust
are we magical filaments,
the sparkles of fairies,
lighting bolts
cast at exclusion
through Zeus-like fingers
in the pale dawn?
Are we the brilliant transience
of dreams or
weighted, heavy
as charcoal ash settling
over a coal-burning town
in the thick need of winter?
No matter,
stork, star, stem
root, seed, they grow
decay, demean, delay.
They go. We are done for.
No matter how light the legacy
of our dazzling
- or more mundane –
dust. Broken
things get swept away
as they crumble, they must…
perfect, unusual petals
circle in. Do not
crush them only to
inhale the fragrance
of power and grasp.
It too will not last.
“This too will pass.”
If you see perfect,
covet and remember it
from a distance
of future past.
Have you seen…
are you missing?
This is a Requiem mass.
14B
On
What lies below, beneath, across –
dissolving into, or from, loss?
Feline, humane,
human, fallible,
the grid of the stairs
descends and rises.
How does one describe
disguises?
Where in the frenzied moment
of change when what was
to have united us, came
apart, unraveled…
What sequence of the dream
is this, what cause, what bliss?
You take the words
wrongly out of my mouth.
When did you feel the tired
journey going south?
What magnet pulled the compass
so far off course?
Or did it always point here?
Which is worse?
The cats stand at the top
of the stairs
chasing demons or their tails,
the garden rustles,
the wind rails,
and on we sail, on.
Lucy Hale and Ann Storc
