| 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 |
| ________________ |
| ________________ |
Ptero-Soar: Unusual Flight
My hope as a poet is to leave an image in your
mind that stays next to you always—a fossil
mystery embedded in your memory. If you
close your eyes, can you imagine a pterodactyl?
I once was an undergraduate at the University
of Texas, and on hot September afternoons en
route to my art history lecture, I would wander
through the Great Hall of the Texas Memorial
Museum. It was first for the air conditioning.
Then I discovered how accurately the Texas
Memorial Museum fits my personality. It is
cluttered full of minerals and fossils, including
the suspended skeleton cast of one of the
largest flying creatures ever discovered. An
ancient dragon. A reptile with a forty-foot
wingspan. A feathered serpent. A
Quetzalcoatlus northropi. The Texas Pterosaur.
I have a menagerie of natural symbols, or
intellectual totems. The animals in my
collection have inspired me by their
characteristics. I draw on what I love about
these animals to richen my experiences. For
me, the pterosaur is my symbol for creating.
Pterosaurs have always fascinated me. The
root, ptero, is a Greek prefix that means neither
"wing" nor "feather", but both. I like the fusion
of a warm-blooded, hollow-boned, hairy-
feathered, mammal-hearted, flying reptile. I
like that they are greatly varied in size, shape,
and habitat. I also like that they are extinct
and yet factually exist to us, because of our
ability to read the fossil record.
Most pterosaurs were the size of birds, but the
one soaring above my head in the Texas
Memorial Museum with a wingspan as long as a
school bus inspired me to think in terms of
How. Did. Something. So. But. It. Did.
Fly.
When I was a child I believed in my heart that,
if I tried intensely enough, I would be able to
fly. It was a strong feeling. Because of it I
would fling myself from the roofs of barns and
from the seats of swings into the bare air. And
I would crush crumble to the ground, a pile
of bones.
What ended up happening was, through solid
faith and repetition, I was able to
authentically feel myself in that moment I was
flying. I flew for one moment each time before
I crashed. I was able to collect those moments.
Glue them, or stitch them, or snap them
together. Make art from them.
I have also found that, as I grow more
understanding of myself, the more mandatory
for my peace of character it is to express the
joys and griefs of our short lifespan on Planet
Earth. We are the complex creatures we are
because of our ability to record art.
I have chosen the elaborate symbolism of the
ancient pterosaur as the mascot for my new
artistic journey, soaring through the moments
of our lives before our bones crumble on our
long dive into the sea.
Will you draw me a pterodactyl?
My hope as a poet is to leave an image in your
mind that stays next to you always—a fossil
mystery embedded in your memory. If you
close your eyes, can you imagine a pterodactyl?
I once was an undergraduate at the University
of Texas, and on hot September afternoons en
route to my art history lecture, I would wander
through the Great Hall of the Texas Memorial
Museum. It was first for the air conditioning.
Then I discovered how accurately the Texas
Memorial Museum fits my personality. It is
cluttered full of minerals and fossils, including
the suspended skeleton cast of one of the
largest flying creatures ever discovered. An
ancient dragon. A reptile with a forty-foot
wingspan. A feathered serpent. A
Quetzalcoatlus northropi. The Texas Pterosaur.
I have a menagerie of natural symbols, or
intellectual totems. The animals in my
collection have inspired me by their
characteristics. I draw on what I love about
these animals to richen my experiences. For
me, the pterosaur is my symbol for creating.
Pterosaurs have always fascinated me. The
root, ptero, is a Greek prefix that means neither
"wing" nor "feather", but both. I like the fusion
of a warm-blooded, hollow-boned, hairy-
feathered, mammal-hearted, flying reptile. I
like that they are greatly varied in size, shape,
and habitat. I also like that they are extinct
and yet factually exist to us, because of our
ability to read the fossil record.
Most pterosaurs were the size of birds, but the
one soaring above my head in the Texas
Memorial Museum with a wingspan as long as a
school bus inspired me to think in terms of
How. Did. Something. So. But. It. Did.
Fly.
When I was a child I believed in my heart that,
if I tried intensely enough, I would be able to
fly. It was a strong feeling. Because of it I
would fling myself from the roofs of barns and
from the seats of swings into the bare air. And
I would crush crumble to the ground, a pile
of bones.
What ended up happening was, through solid
faith and repetition, I was able to
authentically feel myself in that moment I was
flying. I flew for one moment each time before
I crashed. I was able to collect those moments.
Glue them, or stitch them, or snap them
together. Make art from them.
I have also found that, as I grow more
understanding of myself, the more mandatory
for my peace of character it is to express the
joys and griefs of our short lifespan on Planet
Earth. We are the complex creatures we are
because of our ability to record art.
I have chosen the elaborate symbolism of the
ancient pterosaur as the mascot for my new
artistic journey, soaring through the moments
of our lives before our bones crumble on our
long dive into the sea.
Will you draw me a pterodactyl?
| CHRISTINE NIMOCKS |
| "Ptotem Stalactite" |
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.
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.
