Donna has been thinking a lot about landscapes, partially because she has been traveling to some pretty remote ones the past couple of years, landscapes that seem completely alien, filled with icebergs and glaciers and more shades of blue than she thought existed. But she’s always happy to return to her own: the little lake near her home that supports numerous birds, including a majestic heron; the forest preserve that provides shade and softer surfaces for long walks; the perpetual hiss of suburban traffic.

We all grow up with physical landscapes that imprint upon us, whether those be pine forests or ocean beaches, fields of grain or desert sands, suburban lawns or city sidewalks. Sometimes we seek the comfort of those, and sometimes we long for the unfamiliar. But one of the landscapes artists most often explore is memory. Like a physical landscape, memory has its own structures and rhythms and is populated with its own unique flora and fauna. Memory can be both soothing and dangerous. It changes with time and with the light, and it cannot be counted on to stay the same on any given day.

The work in this issue sets out into that vastest of landscapes and plants a flag there, says I was there, now I am here, and I am sharing the experience. One of the most fascinating things about art, whether it is written or visual, is that every reader/viewer brings their own landscape to bear in interpreting it. As editors, we are often drawn to the same pieces for completely different reasons, and that’s the beauty of curating a collection of work for others. We’ve looked through our own lenses and seen something beautiful and real, and now we hope that others will appreciate this work in their own way.

So put on your glasses or your walking shoes - let Issue Seven take you on a journey.

Donna & Rachel