Online Art Exhibition
Call and Response: Collaboration at a Distance Round 14, Special Edition: Nature

Call and Response: Collaboration at a Distance Round 14, Special Edition: Nature

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 just finishing up Round 14 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.

Please join us for the opening reception of the online exhibition via zoom Sunday March 27, 11am-1pm pst.

Cover photo by Sue Jenkins

Call and Response: Nature Artist Talk March 27, 2022

Adeola Davies-Aiyeloja and Sandy Huse


Aidan Mirowsky


Anda Marcu and Dellis Frank


Andi colombo and April Bermudez


Ann Storc and Ilke Iter


Anne M Bray and Kathryn Pitt


Ashley Hester and Christine Hippeli


Aurora Bewicke and Faina Kumpan


Austin Lubetkin and Lina Kogan


Betty Rosen and Robyn Alatorre


Corinne Lightweaver and Theresa Knopf


Cynthia Cole and Sina Evans


Debra Bianculli and Kess Kin


Elisabeth Kelvin and Michal Greenboim


Eva Marie Amiya and Julie Williams


Genie Davis and Maddie Maser

1 Genie Davis

All the selves you were are already past

There is something about tomorrow,
the invisible link
between hold-music
and war,

the inevitability of what was,
the return of what will be.
And if you find yourself lost,
at sea, on your knees

cajoling, capitulating, praying,
protesting, binging festival movies,
online, unlinked, tethered,
then free—

so it seems, those slivers of you
slide together in new ways.
There are more funerals,
“Celebrations of life,”

the backwards slip of time so fast.
And yet the future gleams.
Through a power outage
in a dark desert motel,

the night around you like
a blanket, the fire
blazing up against paler stars,
the light of which is just

distant but fiercer than any
flame. You ask my name.
I have changed that too,
in a heart adrift in clouds of snow.

White crowns on the cactus,
ruts dissolving down an empty road.
It is time to end resistance,
it’s time to go home.

1 Genie Davis
2 Maddie Maser

3 Genie Davis

I am a Sky

I am a Sky full of stars,
Jupiter and Mars,
translucent shell.
I am mother of pearl,

once a girl,
creature of loss,
gathering moss,
in a forest of tears and rain.

I am a moon,
yellow in June,
liquid as light,
shimmering bright.

I am the cloud,
doubtful but proud,
shivering grey on the wind.
I am my skin,

animal sheath,
howling the heath,
victim of peace,
waiting to break.

I am the wind beginning
to ache,
spring on the flower,
the future – my power

But I may not see.
Blind as the air,
surfeit with care,
ever veiled but in view.

I am a sky,
I am you.

3 Genie Davis
4 Maddie Maser

5 Genie Davis

Hear Me Now (Ghost Sounds Singing)

She’s still listening to the sounds of rivers,
the liquid infinitesimal fluttering
ff water wings and reeds.
If memory is

translucent, transcendent,
then so are these words (if you say them/see them).
We listen within this world together,
a song you cannot see.

Dragon flies dart blue emeralds across the boardwalk,
the hush of flight, sky path, the connection –
a train passes, the image flickers
restart the movie, draw the shades.

I waver in the sunlight,
half-forgotten on a shiny highway,
whose onward pull allures even the most sedentary of
creatures, flying tires, beating wings, and beating heart.

Suspended in air, the green sunlight
filtered through photosynthetic sunglass leaves,
the illusion is complete,
of sanctuary.

Until we elevate the truth
beyond reason, as if nature
itself were the words, the poetry, a feeling we are showing
through light, through color, through sound

an emotion that indicates
we capture what envelops us with
the music of wings.
That dragonfly again,

the barest fluttering of the heart,
the faintest ripple of memory
the scratching of shadows –
you may remember me.

In a fragment of song,
in a flower or a stone,
sparkling with the morning light,
still quiet and unknown.

5 Genie Davis