ISSUE NO. 14: SELF-PORTRAIT 1
December 2022
This issue of Pearl Press features work from:
Cover image: Delilah Twersky
Curated by: Delilah Twersky
Download the PDF below.
Bloody Nose, 2017: Victor Isaac Alvarez
Isaac & Abraham, 2022: Daniel Terna
Isaac & Abraham, 2022: Daniel Terna
Self Baptism: Patrick Carew
POUGHKEEPSIE
beyond the pastel
smoothlooming sky
you appear incan-
descent along
the furthest trees
as a slice of gold
I am barreling at
a predetermined
speed and you are
tomorrow the scythe
Ellie Musgrave
A LONG WAY (TO THE TOP)
easier to hold
the specter of a red
sugar maple
set aflame than to
admit I have been
forgetting myself,
forgoing the one
voice I can return to
weakly, I bring up
what the prophets
used to say in
regard to rock music
but who am I
kidding. my guy at the
hardware store thinks
I got rid of my tattoo
maybe that is the ask:
who would you let
yourself be under the
stark martian stars?
Ellie Musgrave
Self Portrait, Ford Street 1983: Jan Watten
Self Portrait at 22: Jan Watten
My Phantom: Chitose Kuroishi
My Phantom: Chitose Kuroishi
Cacoon: Ildikó Kópé
Butterfly: Ildikó Kópé
Imago: Ildikó Kópé
Clutch: Chris Maliga
I KEEP HEARING (4/8)
that which others find sad and heart-
breaking are the things I feel the most love in
Say Yes and Romeo and Juliet are sad songs
and they line this bachelorette catacomb
once I figure out what, among all the old
books, is making my room smell like an
old bookstore, it's over for us bitches
I keep hearing "you got out with your life"
what I got out with was a few pots of
Target-shelf luxuries and a bag of chips
a stack of library books that mock me
from the shelf at the end of my bed
and, blessedly, a glimpse at the wide sky
on my skipstop commute back home
Ellie Musgrave
Me, Birthday, 2020: Isabelle Baldwin
Self portraits in France, 2022: Julia Sara Noëlle
PARTY ON, GARTH!
The beginning of my renaissance
is paved with pebbles, pickpocket stones
PARTY on!
perpetual immigrant-kid--
I tell myself in the mirror
that they're all in on the joke
as they laugh out loud
corn husks, stripping
in front of
my eyes
leaving stringy bits on the ground
like the remains of
a GOOD haircut.
i smile, pretending to know
how one thing blossoms into another
roses blooming in recession
transforming right before my eyes
into the tight coiled curls, of lavender
sprigs
somehow
IN someway, strung together
by an invisible thread
Is my shirt the wrong shade of red?
i tug on it at least ten times before
walking out the door, completely
UNSURE
of the recipe
My shoes, are they too worn down?
not enough?
blindfolded, i tiptoe on this tightrope
searching for THAT quintessential cool
or is it,
my smile?
too open? or my eyes, too honest?
what gives me away?
I wipe the hazy fog from the medicine cabinet, in an attempt
to erase--
as a way to be seen.
Elida Silvey
Self portraits in France, 2022: Julia Sara Noëlle
I Wish I Could Take You With Me: Alborz Kamalizad
Narcissus: Chris Maliga
Drowned Man II: Patrick Carew
Self Portrait with Mom: Patrick Carew
MAJESTIC
Beard the color of charcoal
That has been under fire
For too long
And not long enough
A monochromatic quilt
Of scruff nestled youthfulness
Blanketing a smile
Buoyant by 38 years of laughter
Because every thought is humorous
Even when they shouldn't be
Born endangered
He's an eagle's single eye
Soaring high
Squinting to get its focus
After seeing something funny
Off in the sunny distance
Of his stretch of the woods -- the ghetto
Where only the most brutal hunters compete
Over colored feathers -- the gangs
Clashing against the palette's authority -- the police
Yet he remains majestic
Tranquil, regal
And resolved
For all the world
To see
Kellen Parham
Me, Bedroom, 2020: Isabelle Baldwin
La Jaula: Javier E. Piñero
La Jaula: Javier E. Piñero
La Jaula: Javier E. Piñero
SUITS AND SCREWDRIVERS
I put my best suit on,
the one with the lapels that stick out like YSL
suits in the 70s used to
pretend to be Willie Dynamite, if
he were Mexican that is
float down the steps with my fur
coat
bellowing like a bull.
I order a martini, hold the olive
or a vodka screwdriver
in morning
pretend to enjoy it
as it drips down, like the taste of a night
gone-on for too long
I let it puncture a hole
in my stomach
like a hole-punch indicating
where something should go
I let viper-venom words stain my teeth
yellow
forget to brush my hair
forget to take out the trash
forget to call
my mom
Most importantly, I pretend that somehow -
suits and screwdrivers
fix those little niggling things
inside.
Elida Silvey
.jpg)
Self-Portrait with Greenwood Lake: Delilah Twersky
REBUILDING MY TEMPLE
Empower my body, yet shatter my soul
For the soil holding my entangled roots are rotten to the fucking core.
I feel..that always this skin that we've bathed in sin, must be peeled away
to see what is left of my pores.
You look at me with pure pleasure, one that man can ever truly measure.
But…they whisper in my ear, stay with this pain.
You’ll never have anything else worthy of your time,
the pinnacle of this everlasting pain for in the end, we are all the same.
Empower my body, yet shatter my soul
With these trembling hands, I cannot turn back time.
Just pour this refilling glass of wine, wishing this body wasn’t mine.
What is a self portrait that you can’t stand?
What is a body that no longer belongs to man?
Depression has a hold of my veins,
pulling my body by the reins.
All I know is pain.
Empower my body, yet shatter my soul
Even out of ruins, beauty can be reborn.
Too long have I spent time searching for a place to call my own, a place to home.
When in reality, it resided inside of me.
I know there is something bigger and better out there for me.
The world at my head, the sky at my feet.
I no longer walk with my soul in defeat.
Self love as my self portrait, this is what truly makes me whole.
Empower my body, yet shatter my soul
My insecurities ring loud, but I am proud.
Proud of where I am, for here I stand.
Rebuilding my temple, in return, wasn’t that simple
But I want to spend the rest of my life learning…
how to properly worship this gift in stride,
Rebuilding my temple, brick by brick.
It’s time I empower my body, and restore my soul.
Self love as my self portrait.
This is what truly makes me whole.
Darius Phelps
10 years since, or a portrait of Pop and me: Taj Reed
Thank you for reading.
For more updates check @pearl.press on Instagram.
Delilah Twersky
Pearl Press
©2022