Category Archives: Women

A.H. Scott: The Bridesmaid Question

Mike Pence: The Bridesmaid Question

 

Text by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2020

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The Bridesmaid Question
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Maybe it’s the question spoken in hushed tones. Or, just the obvious one which has some wondering out loud.
 
 
Why isn’t Mike Pence good enough to be the President of the United States of America?
 
 
Mike Pence can save America and put this country out of its’ misery right now, if he steps up to marry himself to a certain amendment and not a snotty brat with a constant pout.
 
 
 
After all, he’s a conservative’s conservative. Upright, uptight and potently pious is he. So, the question of him being the bridesmaid to a bride ever so shameless is an obvious one to take a peek under the tarnished, silken slip of this administration at hand.
 
 
An Evangelical base is more aligned with the life traveled by Mr. Pence. But, then again, it seems he is not the beloved one to stand in first place at the electoral altar.
 
 
Never the bride, but always the bridesmaid is Mike Pence.
 
 
Second-hand Mike!
Second-hand Mike!
 
 
Exactly what is it about you that people really don’t like?
Second-hand Mike is sanctimonious beyond anyone else on par
Yet, the one they love more is the boorish reality television star
Second-hand Mike wonders with stoic stare over why isn’t he worthy enough?
Amendment 25 is chiseled there in concrete
But, nobody’s calling in that bluff
Jobs may come
And, positions may transform
But, a certain bridesmaid sheds a tear when knowing that brass pinnacle is so near
Seems no matter how sincere you apply your gaze
Or, how earnest to the ideology you praise
Second banana is your finality of place
Choirboy or fornicator is the choice on the evangelical’s silver plate
Which will they cling to when the sins hit the fan?
The good boy who abides by all the perceived rules
Or, the problem child who kicks the golden can?
The answer is clear and Second-hand Mike weeps on his Missus’ shoulder
One spouse limit is his, as the bride’s been in triple-wedded bliss
At the head of the aisle one hand brushing another is a pliable second-hand job
Oh, Mother – clutch your pearls, if that be true
Let them pearls of fallacy scatter
When you couldn’t have that proclaimed Christian fortitude of humanity to say Black Lives Matter
Lacking a pair of spheres and absent a clue
You will never be the cream on top, because being the bride is just not you
Mike Pence is a bridesmaid, through and through
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About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/bare/
 
Also posted in Blog, Men, News, Politics, Portraits

Emily Williams: Home/Solitude

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Photography and Text by Emily Williams, Copyright 2020

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HOME/SOLITUDE

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I dedicate this series to my grandfather, Leon Williams.

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Driven by my frustration with the passage of time without a singular place to call home, I started to think about the meaning of home—a feeling rather than a physical space. A feeling that I chased, both literally and figuratively, while running countless miles on roads both familiar and unfamiliar. Listening to the sound of my own feet, in part, lead me to this series.

As the series grew, it started to center around solitude, the feeling I always circle back to when meditating on home. I wanted to explore the range of emotions contained in solitude—from loneliness, to peace, to anger. I aim to create visual representations of quiet that convey and explore the nuances among feelings that come with large amounts of time spent alone.

My photography searches for the evidence of humanity—an unmade bed, an abandoned shoe, an open window, a dilapidated gate—to discover who was or will be in that space. I want to find places that mean something to whomever may have inhabited them but appear vacant at the moment they are photographed. I felt the mundane, uninhabited nature of these scenes best convey solitude.

In the first few months of working, I mostly photographed inside houses. I was drawn to the easily recognizable evidence of their inhabitants. Later, other spaces that were not as easily recognizable as inhabited, such as landscapes and abstract pieces, were incorporated into my work.

Throughout the year, I have been consistently concerned with the geometry of my compositions with the exploration of different patterns of light. How light shapes what we see, how it defines space, and how its presence and absence creates mood fascinates me.

I used analog and digital processes in making and printing my photographs. I have printed on 11 in. x 14 in. Ilford warm tone, silver gelatin paper, and made inkjet prints on Baryta Photo Rag paper of the same size. I started by printing on the Ilford warm tone paper in the darkroom, and found that it allowed for more detail to be visible in heavy shadows. I chose the Baryta Photo Rag because it was the closest digital equivalent. I have used both the analog and digital processes in order to print each photograph in the process that suits it best. The photographs are taken primarily with Kodak 400TX film, in both the 35mm and 120mm sizes; I have on several occasions used Ilford HP5 for my 35mm photographs. Both of these films have a wide exposure latitude, allowing me to push and pull them as needed and giving me the flexibility to shoot in a wide range of lighting situations.

My work is inspired by that of Abelardo Morell, mainly from his three series Childhood, Still Lives, and Light, Time, and Optics. He records light and shadow, patterns, and domesticity to create compelling photographs of the everyday. I draw aspects of my creative process from Haruki Murakami’s book What I Talk about When I Talk about Running, where Murakami seamlessly connects his work as a fiction writer with running.

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About The Author:  Emily Williams is a recent graduate of Haverford College majoring in Fine Arts and History.  Class of 2020.

Also posted in Art, Blog, Film, Photography, Popular Culture, Travel

A.H. Scott: Teddy Bare

Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2020

 

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Text by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2020
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Teddy Bare
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Mary used her key that Teddy gave her to pop into his house when he wasn’t there to enjoy his pool in the back.
White dress with black buttons was quickly undone, as Mary peeled off blush colored bra and panty.
She knew he would be home soon and took a quick swim to cool off.  
Coming to the shallow end of the pool, she pulled herself partially onto the deck.
Resting her head atop of her arms on the edge of the pool, Mary closed her eyes with her legs lightly brushing against the Italian marble so cool.
Teddy had arrived to his home about ten minutes earlier and changed out of his boring attire into something frisky for this sunny afternoon in August.
Teddy bare was a pleasant sight out of the corner of Mary’s eye, as he dove into the opposite end of the pool.
Little was a splash made as his sights were set upon her.
Mary closed her eyes again and called out to the swimmer approaching her, “Teddy, how was your day?”
Coming closer to where she was, Teddy was eager to reply, “Better now to have your luscious body beaming beneath the sun’s rays”.
Mary was no fool, as she perched herself slightly outside of the waterline of that pool. Her ass was like a peach on the horizon of a ripple of water.
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Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2020

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Teddy had hands quite sizable, which Mary enjoyed in any kind of variable on her body.
That first touch of fingers making contact with her hips made Mary murmur a bit.
Scooping upward around both breasts, Teddy’s hands massaged each nipple slowly and pressed his body inside of her from behind.
Inside of Mary’s flower, she welcomed every insertion of this man’s desire.
Yet, this woman had her own sense of power in being with him.
Natural slip and slide of mutual inches of expanding pride were setting off sparks in the shallow end of that pool.
Teddy’s hands caressed her moist ass with adoring care, as Mary’s palms playfully drummed out a beat against the edge of that pool.
So good it was, as she made her move on him with measured pace of motioning herself around in that water to face this lusty man of this house.
Their eyes met as did their flesh again and again. Water moved between them with every point of contact, as intensity and serenity filled their gazes.
Tongues teased one another; with his tip racing along right side of her neck and soft kisses she was giving to his left cheek and parallel pectoral.
Feeling him inside of her, Mary’s soul pulsated with that headiness of horniness that she rarely revealed to anyone.
As for Teddy, he was a man consumed with pleasure in being with a woman who knew what she needed and expressed herself as wanting in fulfillment.
Locomotion of push and pull was theirs in that water, as Mary’s arms and legs wrapped around Teddy’s body.
Trickle of culmination, confidence and care came in satisfaction’s exhalation and roaring enthrallment in that pool area.
On a sun-drenched afternoon in August that was delightfully beyond compare, Mary expressed her deepest gratitude to Teddy bare.
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Photo: Tony Ward, Copyright 2020

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About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here:https://tonywarderotica.com/onehundredthousand/
 
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A.H. Scott: 100,000+

Deaths from Covid-19

 

 

Text by A.H. Scott, Copyright 2020

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100,000+

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Oh, I’m sorry if the number crimps your style
They are just souls of the departed
Oh yeah, just statistics in a ledger that runs red with their blood and our salty tears
We won’t forget them
Yet, you never acknowledge their existence
Let that number sink in for a while!
They’re gone now, but that’s not why you have a furrowed brow
Banner of best econ in history has dissipated from your craven clasp
Even as each one of them take their final gasp
Efficiency experts in Hades tout the time is right to kick open the doors of business to start the machine of industry again
Referencing the workforce as human capital stock, those in towers of ivory frivolously mock
Lessening this tragedy in terms of decimals and cents
Nary is a word of lament
Push, push, push won’t be easy for all of us to heed
Cynics might scoff at the naked two-step of greed
100,000 lives and counting
Coronavirus’ toll is mounting
Keepin’ your distance is what the Docs say
Yet, all which any of us can do when they slip away is pray
Covering one’s face assists in mitigation
But, some think they are above the fray of the citizenry to lead by example
They get on television and preen and pout their bleached vision
100,000
Yeah, that is a quantity
But, damnit it’s more than that – its’ human quality
Quality of flesh, blood, dreams and life were theirs once
Now, we who remain can’t even kiss their foreheads to say a final goodbye
They are not digits crimping a bureaucrat’s agenda
All they were we can remember
Beyond the spotlight that certain persons straddle with such soulless desperation
The souls of these Americans exhibit lives lived and loved to those touched by them
Less than a quarter of a year has amassed a horrendous record that some are attempting to ignore
Optics of the obvious tide of sorrow cannot be wished away
Closing one’s eyes and acting as if what’s happening exposes that rotten core
Turn the page and reopen America to make it yesterday once more
But, not this time
Bluebird bluster and any prophylactic concoction you can muster will not keep the spirits of 100,000 coming within a grasped few winks in your nightmare’s view
In day, in night the fallen will forever follow you
Even with the hallowed position you were entrusted with, you haven’t a clue
Who were they?
They are us
Who are we?
We are the bullhorn of their memory never to be silenced  
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About The Author: A.H. Scott is a poet based in New York City and frequent contributor to Tony Ward Studio. To read additional articles by Ms. Scott, go here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/conference/
 
Also posted in Blog, News, Politics, Popular Culture, Travel

Huiping Tina Zhong: Captivity

Photography and Text by Huiping Tina Zhong, Copyright 2020

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Captivity

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I have been following the update of the COVID-19 crisis since the very beginning when it was first discovered in China. Because I’m a Chinese international student, I’ve been worrying about my family and friends back home, although I did not expect that crisis to hit the US so soon and so hard, given that there were plentiful time for the government to execute precautions since the breakout in China in early January. I was in immense frustration, anger and sadness for the beginning of the social isolation period, yet now that intense emotions have passed, I’m increasingly aware of the fact that I’m not only physically trapped in my tiny apartment, but also am emotionally trapped in my lack of motivation and in my lethargy. Many have encouraged the public to face the current crisis with a positive attitude, yet it occurred to me that it was important to ponder negative feelings. Pondering and taking in these sensations in isolation is not only important for personal development, but also necessary for the progress of a society. Therefore, I shot these series of 24 pictures in my apartment to sit with the self that feels trapped.

When one is trapped, the positive thing is that one actually gets to spend more time with objects and self. As one observes the quotidian objects from different angles, the structures of these objects start to deconstruct. As their geometrical and linear structures get foregrounded, objects lose their identities while acquiring new poetic sensibilities. 

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About The Author:  Huiping Tina Zhong is a senior majoring in Art History at Bryn Mawr College. To access additional articles by Huiping Tina Zhong, click here: https://tonyward.com/iceland/

 

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