On The Brink by Cherie Lee


The perfect size
and the perfect shape
Organically forming
A perfect landscape.

The life within,
A single race,
Dependent on sharing
The beautiful space.

The wisdom of ages
The wonders of art
A singular component
Of our Big Bang start.

But a little plastic man,
who’s been here but a blink,
Seems hell-bent on pushing it
Right over the brink.


“Feeling Frail” Collection by Cherie Lee



I entered a place of need
Not empty at all, but overflowing
with dearth.
And I was filled with holes.
Holes where things used to be.
Holes where things were supposed to be.
Holes that I thought should be filled
To be my complete me.
But the holes are who I was then.

I tried to throw my holes away
Angry how their weight held me down.
But swat as hard as I may
They kept floating back in.
How can they be so bubbly buoyant
When they’re so damn weighty?

I wanted to get rid of my holes,
Though each one was something I sought.
Just give them away, Here!
But no one wanted my holes.
They were, after all, all Mine.
So I clung to my holes with greed.
Certain they would sustain me.
As consumed with devoid as I could be
I thought I might never be empty.

So in this lightless place
Alone with all my holes
In ignorance
I plucked one to look closer.
And seeing that nothing was in it
It ceased to exist at all.

Folks come here full of holes
all the time.
When one can see there’s nothing there,
Then they can see
all that is.


We have more than enough by Shannon Amey


This work was created as a result of the current COVID-19 pandemic where I am grateful for all that we do have rather than a sense of lack. Currently working form my home studio with my partner also working from home and my 12.5-year-old dog. We have more than enough. Enough love, food, company, entertainment, laundry, and gratitude. My brain may be wandering to anxious places during these times, but I know I can be calmed by focusing on the abundance of what we do have.



Discoballs on Balconies by Isma Gul Hasan


My work is about the silence surrounding us during this pandemic. It highlights moments of reflection, as well as heightened observation during this period. In isolating ourselves in our home we yearn for moments of connection and congruence, and thus start viewing the world in a new light, tinged with longing and silence.
This particular illustration was conceived after a quiet walk to the grocery store. I spotted a discoball hanging outside a window in a nondescript building. It was a strange, cinematic moment. Not a soul outdoors, except maybe a few far off. And in the silence of a moment that held very subtle signs of life here and there, this discoball seemed too loud, too incongruous, almost vulgar. And I recognised in it a foreignness, a resignation, of a world that I can’t touch or experience. A world that we humans have misunderstood. Beneath the thin film onto which we are firmly stuck, breeding, brooding, writhing, there is a world of silence that exists independently of us, that has retreated into itself because we haven’t understood it. We have festooned it with our ideas and truths and theories and opinions, but it endures. In all the chaos of the world there exist discoballs on balconies, that endure. I then resumed my walk, and saw the discoball turn away, unconcerned and oblivious, as it exited my sight.