Dear Reader,
These days, with most of us stuck in seclusion, one could say the range has expanded its reach: invaded the city, spilled over from grasslands to concrete. The clichés of the West’s big sky and vast spaces — austere, remote, devoid of human presence — feel suddenly everywhere proximate. The plaza has become a vacant plain. Instead of pining for a solitary reprieve, many now yearn for human reunion. We’ve experienced a share of the shepherd’s isolation, and the reality is not so romantic.
For whatever downtime you have, we offer Issue Three. We’re proud to feature another outstanding lineup of contributors, their work ranging from the West Texas borderlands to the soy fields of Argentina to the frozen flats of central Idaho. “While I was walking through parts of Iceland, estranged from family and friends on the other side of the world, geologically active landscapes revealed themselves to constitute a living, breathing ecosystem with its own set of rules,” writes Ng Hui Hsien, reflecting on her series of evocative photographs. Her observations presciently echo our current circumstances — estranged, we’re endeavoring to understand the world and its inhabitants (human, animal, virus, and otherwise) in new and, hopefully, more humble ways. The rules aren’t always man-made.
To that end, we consider the words and artworks collected here to be as relevant as ever. Joy Castro turns her eye to the complicated (yet potentially redemptive) relationship between nature and war; Sylvia Chan unearths those human atrocities which take place against the background of conservation movements; Heid E. Erdrich and Steven Yazzie (in her poems, his paintings) reimagine the boundaries of post-colonial time and space. The list goes on …
Safe wishes,
Sean McCoy
Executive Editor