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No Missing Pieces Zine #1 pg 78-81

Submitted by admin on Tue, 12/02/2014 - 23:32

A mixed media art project on a rectangular canvas covered with cropped photographs, handwritten text, typed text, old painted postcards, paint, brown and white feathers, part of a dried shed snake skin, watery coffee and coffee grounds.

Contributor Bio: Jordan is a 28-year-old mixed-race, Autistic & otherwise disabled, gay punk nerd. Jordan goes by “he” or "they" pronouns & lives mostly on a farm in the Appalachian mountains in Maryland with his dad and dogs. Jordan is the editor of No Missing Pieces Zine, writes some other zines, and runs Feral Is My Heart Zine Distro. For more info, go to: http://feralismyheart.tumblr.com/

 

Title: Snapshots

Artist: Jordan Glass

November 2014

Image: A mixed media art project on a rectangular canvas covered with cropped photographs in color and black and white; handwritten text in ink and blue marker; blocks of blue marker and black ink scratches covering handwritten text; typed poetry on numbered white paper, some with words underlined; old splatter-painted, glittery, and watercolor-painted postcards I decorated as a child (with a castle-shaped one I repainted to look like it’s on fire); acrylic paint (metallic gold, metallic bronze, orange, red, yellow, black); dark brown woodpecker feathers with white markings; navy blue fabric with white thread; a light brown piece of shed snake skin; watery coffee; and coffee grounds. The photos are of three dogs (one black, one brown and white, and one black and brown), a fish, plants, a creek next to trees and a snowy field, illuminated windows in a blue house, me as a small child, me as an adult, and my maternal grandparents.

Image text (handwritten): (On and around the glittery postcard with the black dog photo) “Taylor, R.I.P. My best friend and family, he made me feel safe. Taylor was comfort & protection. Taylor showed me that love doesn’t hurt. He made me feel safe. Now I feel broken and everything hurts. Taylor never cared when I lost my words.”

(Above and below grandparents photo) “Granddad. Nana. Love forever.”

(Around little kid goggles photo) “Little Jordan, 4 years old.”

(Under white and brown dog photo) “Panda” (arrow pointing up to photo)

(Next to plant photo on left, in between typed poetry blocks) “Escape into my head”

(Below little kid photo) “I buried myself and grew into someone new. I forgot I was a seed.”

(Above sleeping puppy photo) “JETT”

(Near cropped self-portrait overlapping with garden photo) “I live in the woods now, held by mountains. I am never coming back. Look for me in the garden.”

 

Image text (typed): (Parts of an unfinished poem I wrote called Snapshots.)

(Trigger warning: nonconsensual touch, body horror, ableism, unreality, anxiety, meltdown)

Snapshots by Jordan Glass

Standing on a chair at the kitchen sink

swimming my hands through warm, soapy water

Everything else slips away

Goggles on in the bathtub, octopus rides on my back

Schools of fish sparkle through bubbles

Whales hum to me

 

I am small enough to fit curled on my favorite step

my imaginary family lives on the staircase

I walk against the walls so I don’t step on them

They are my safe people

They have no faces and no need for touch

They roll their love down the stairs to me like soft marbles

Pressed against the pine wood, I fall asleep

 

People touch me and I feel invaded

Pull up the drawbridge

Archers man the battlements, pull back their arrows

People touch me like an animal trap

I want to chew off my arms to escape

Nobody notices or cares

Now I know my body doesn’t belong to me

 

. . . noisy and fast like fireworks

. . . I am on my own

 

. . . My grandparents live directly across the street from my house for a while

I go over there every day after school and they help raise me

Granddad always calls me “Little Bits”

I follow along with Disney books-on-tape and watch cartoons in their room

Granddad echoes the characters perfectly

Granddad is the first disabled person I know

He sees with his hands, his cane, and pictures in his head

Nana helps him when he needs it

Granddad shows me disability is not bad, just different, and you can adjust

Maybe I’m not a mistake like my brother said

Nana brushes my hair and I fall asleep