| Letter from the Editor: Adventures Begin |
| Featured Artist: Storyteller Murray Dunlap |
| Featured: Original Fiction "The Black Oyster" |
| Ptotem: Ptero-soar |
| Recipe: Tortillas! |
| Rooting for Rubyeyes |
| Welcome to the Ptero Heart of Luna Taylor |
| CHRISTINE NIMOCKS |
| "Ptotem Stalactite" |
| ________________ |
.....................................................................................................
Dear Reader,
When I met Murray Dunlap, he was a soft-spoken young
athlete with a serious talent for storytelling and an impeccable
Southern charm. Life was shining brightly on him at that time.
We shared an office while writing fiction at UC Davis, and in
our overlapping brain-ticking hours, we had some excellent
conversations about art and life. What stands out most in my
memory is a practice, deeper even than storytelling, that was
important to both of us: illumination through music. We
similarly relied on the dynamism of music to bring us out of
the darkness and back to a creative space. At the time neither
of us considered music could also bring you out of a coma.
During one exchange we talked about Lead Belly, the old-time
12-string picker. I had recently discovered his music and
murderous story, and Murray was about to give him a cameo
in a new piece detailing one character's loss and eventual
destruction. He brought the first draft to workshop, but
through the years of following his published stories I never
saw it reappear in print. Distinctive filings from that story
stuck to me, however, and as you will soon learn, Murray's
storytelling voice is not one that fades easily from the memory.
Flash forward to early 2009. My mind was set on developing
my web property. I knew I wanted to create a personal
periodical, although I was still struggling with the conceptual
core. I was feeling uninspired in my own work, especially in
regards to voice, so I wrote to Murray to see what he was
doing. It was then I learned the basics of his incredible
survival story—which was very powerful and personal for
me—and I realized I was overwhelmed with more questions I
wanted to ask about his experience. Thus the first Ptero Heart
interview was born.
Murray answered every question I posed honestly and
without scruples. He also granted my request to publish an
original story. Because of memory issues that have resulted
from the traumatic brain injury, he cannot remember the finer
details of most situations from before the wreck. I asked him
if he remembered writing a story where his character listens to
Lead Belly, but he could not recall the piece at all. So we
looked at a few other stories, but none of them fit quite right
for Ptero Heart.
Then he brought up "The Black Oyster." He said he had no
idea where it was or if it was already published, but he would
email everyone who reads his drafts to see if he could find it.
He said it would be perfect for what I was looking for, and
sure enough, it turned out "The Black Oyster" was indeed the
story that included the bit about Lead Belly that had stuck to
me through the years—only rewritten and polished up and, in
my opinion, very good.
It is with great pleasure that I welcome you to the premiere
issue of Ptero Heart. In these pages, you will find a collection
of words and images that have persuaded my heart to take a
running leap out of my urban nest, spread my wings, and take
flight. In addition to the variegated adventures of Murray
Dunlap, I am eager to share with you the charmed artwork of
Brooklyn illustrator Christine Nimocks, introduce you to a
tiny creature named Black Bean Chihuahua, and, I am
particularly thrilled to present the Ptero Gallery, an open
exhibit of imaginative pteros.
As your curator on this adventure, there are a few personal
characteristics I should perhaps mete out. I have severe upper
register hearing loss. I can fully hear motors and vowels, but
cannot detect smoke alarm beeps or tea kettles at full steam.
Human pronunciation is very difficult and I depend primarily
on speechreading for in-person communication. There is no
letter S anymore except contextually. I require subtitled film
and cannot understand the lyrics to music.
Many creative people seek solace in solitude, but as my
hearing continues to deteriorate, isolation is taking on a vaster
meaning. I have struggled with darkness life-long and have a
tendency to hole up when I find myself in despair. In solitude
I am closer to finding peace, joy, and I usually find my way
out of the dark—and in the mood to create art—guided by
music. Music has changed much for me over the course of my
hearing loss, but what I am learning is that sound is not just
something to be heard, but something to be touched. Most
arts require more than one sense to be fully experienced. Like
Murray's character in "The Black Oyster," I know what it feels
like to physically find myself on the floor next to Lead Belly
thumbing out a ballad. To write about the way it feels is, to
me, the way to find the path away from the destruction in day
to day life.
Truth be told, Ptero Heart will be about my personality. I am a
tough poet with strong bones and a willowy soul, but I have a
very sensitive heart. The beauty in life's moments affects me.
It feels wonderful, but it also hurts. That is what this
pterodactyl adventure is finally about: finding the line
between the joy and the pain. To be able and unable. To soar
or not to soar. To sink or not to sink. To make art. To survive.
Enjoy,
Luna Taylor
Dear Reader,
When I met Murray Dunlap, he was a soft-spoken young
athlete with a serious talent for storytelling and an impeccable
Southern charm. Life was shining brightly on him at that time.
We shared an office while writing fiction at UC Davis, and in
our overlapping brain-ticking hours, we had some excellent
conversations about art and life. What stands out most in my
memory is a practice, deeper even than storytelling, that was
important to both of us: illumination through music. We
similarly relied on the dynamism of music to bring us out of
the darkness and back to a creative space. At the time neither
of us considered music could also bring you out of a coma.
During one exchange we talked about Lead Belly, the old-time
12-string picker. I had recently discovered his music and
murderous story, and Murray was about to give him a cameo
in a new piece detailing one character's loss and eventual
destruction. He brought the first draft to workshop, but
through the years of following his published stories I never
saw it reappear in print. Distinctive filings from that story
stuck to me, however, and as you will soon learn, Murray's
storytelling voice is not one that fades easily from the memory.
Flash forward to early 2009. My mind was set on developing
my web property. I knew I wanted to create a personal
periodical, although I was still struggling with the conceptual
core. I was feeling uninspired in my own work, especially in
regards to voice, so I wrote to Murray to see what he was
doing. It was then I learned the basics of his incredible
survival story—which was very powerful and personal for
me—and I realized I was overwhelmed with more questions I
wanted to ask about his experience. Thus the first Ptero Heart
interview was born.
Murray answered every question I posed honestly and
without scruples. He also granted my request to publish an
original story. Because of memory issues that have resulted
from the traumatic brain injury, he cannot remember the finer
details of most situations from before the wreck. I asked him
if he remembered writing a story where his character listens to
Lead Belly, but he could not recall the piece at all. So we
looked at a few other stories, but none of them fit quite right
for Ptero Heart.
Then he brought up "The Black Oyster." He said he had no
idea where it was or if it was already published, but he would
email everyone who reads his drafts to see if he could find it.
He said it would be perfect for what I was looking for, and
sure enough, it turned out "The Black Oyster" was indeed the
story that included the bit about Lead Belly that had stuck to
me through the years—only rewritten and polished up and, in
my opinion, very good.
It is with great pleasure that I welcome you to the premiere
issue of Ptero Heart. In these pages, you will find a collection
of words and images that have persuaded my heart to take a
running leap out of my urban nest, spread my wings, and take
flight. In addition to the variegated adventures of Murray
Dunlap, I am eager to share with you the charmed artwork of
Brooklyn illustrator Christine Nimocks, introduce you to a
tiny creature named Black Bean Chihuahua, and, I am
particularly thrilled to present the Ptero Gallery, an open
exhibit of imaginative pteros.
As your curator on this adventure, there are a few personal
characteristics I should perhaps mete out. I have severe upper
register hearing loss. I can fully hear motors and vowels, but
cannot detect smoke alarm beeps or tea kettles at full steam.
Human pronunciation is very difficult and I depend primarily
on speechreading for in-person communication. There is no
letter S anymore except contextually. I require subtitled film
and cannot understand the lyrics to music.
Many creative people seek solace in solitude, but as my
hearing continues to deteriorate, isolation is taking on a vaster
meaning. I have struggled with darkness life-long and have a
tendency to hole up when I find myself in despair. In solitude
I am closer to finding peace, joy, and I usually find my way
out of the dark—and in the mood to create art—guided by
music. Music has changed much for me over the course of my
hearing loss, but what I am learning is that sound is not just
something to be heard, but something to be touched. Most
arts require more than one sense to be fully experienced. Like
Murray's character in "The Black Oyster," I know what it feels
like to physically find myself on the floor next to Lead Belly
thumbing out a ballad. To write about the way it feels is, to
me, the way to find the path away from the destruction in day
to day life.
Truth be told, Ptero Heart will be about my personality. I am a
tough poet with strong bones and a willowy soul, but I have a
very sensitive heart. The beauty in life's moments affects me.
It feels wonderful, but it also hurts. That is what this
pterodactyl adventure is finally about: finding the line
between the joy and the pain. To be able and unable. To soar
or not to soar. To sink or not to sink. To make art. To survive.
Enjoy,
Luna Taylor
 |
 |
| ________________ |
The ptotem for February is the
raccoon. Submissions of original raccoon
images
should be sent to pterobones@gmail.com
no later than January 20th. All submissions
will be included in February's Ptero Heart.
raccoon. Submissions of original raccoon
images
should be sent to pterobones@gmail.com
no later than January 20th. All submissions
will be included in February's Ptero Heart.
