Sc(o)rpia Online Magazine

Sc(o)rpia (2018–ongoing)

Co-created with Erynn Mitchell, Sc(o)rpia is an online magazine and collaborative platform for artists across disciplines. Each issue is built around a central theme, with open calls for submissions and space for creative exchange. As co-founder and contributing writer, I’ve included selected articles from the publication in this portfolio.

Algorithm, Spring 2020 - Picture by Shewli Ghosh

Algorithm

We lean towards noticing what we lack rather than appreciating what we have.

Nothing new with that statement, however I decided to start documenting what is happening around me. In honor of spring, the month of rebirth I decided to look at the question:

What makes me notice change?

Below a little conglomeration of thoughts that came to me while I was reading in the garden the other day and realized spring had arrived.

Time stood still that night.

The breeze stopped blowing. Crickets stopped singing. Star light did not flicker, and the rain drops froze mid air. It was oh so silent. Everything changed. What once was categorized as the norm had mutated into something new. Abnormality turned into beauty. Awe took over.

I too had forgotten to move for a second. Trapped in that stillness I started to wonder what had happened. Until that moment I had been comfortably sitting under the lemon tree. A book in my hand, and a leaf between my fingertips, I had been letting the breeze caress my skin. I looked up into the tree’s crown. Glimmering leaves smiled down back to me, moved by that same light breeze accompanying me through the printed letters between the book’s pages. The tree’s shadow was spotted by rays of sun. Some of them were agile enough to have criss-crossed past the obstacle-like labyrinth of lemons, branches, and leaves, but had been led to an inevitable stop; the impenetrable surface of the ground. And yet, even if the light was not able to proceed, warmth had been seeping into the ground spreading its embrace of transformation. Life had awoken.

Spring arrived silently, it did not need to announce itself with noise. It’s sheer beauty was enough. The trees changed their garments. They turned white, yellow, purple, blue, and red. How can so much grow and change over our heads and under our feet without making any noise? It had always baffled me. The air had changed too, leaving behind that cold pinch of the winter season. Now it had transformed into an invigorating and crisp scent of freshness. I filled my lungs with it. I could only marvel at the beauty of nature’s spectacle.

I still did not dare to move, stuck in the same seated position, with my feet barely touching the ground. I did not want to touch the ground. Pollute it with the egocentricity of the human mind. Instinctively I raised my chin towards the blue patches of sky among the bright yellow lemons. My eyes closed. I wanted to feel the light on my eyelids. Feel like the ground that we think impenetrable to light. Orange. Yellow. Red. Flickering glimmers. Light was always able to seep in. I noticed that the crickets had resumed their singing. Movement crept back around me welcoming a new wave of life. If only we would detach more often from our egocentric and control driven perceptions and notions of life and nature. Let the environment take the lead and enjoy the little wonders of life.

The book escaped my grasp, slid down my lap and fell to the ground. I opened my eyes. Rustling in the branches. A bird took flight. The sky swallowed up its silhouette. It looked like it had vanished into the blue. The crickets continued chirping. The leaves over my head were still waving in the breeze. Clouds chased after each other in the sky in a never ending game of tag, a dangerous game of creation and destruction. Their shapes dissolved or changed forever once they collided and melted together.

Abstraction. Intuition. Precision. Everything had come together into a beautiful manifestation. A new season. I picked up my book. It had absorbed the warmth of the ground. I brought it up to my cheek and felt its warmth. Saw the letters come to life. Rewrite a thousand more stories. I shivered, recalled the sound of falling rain in the night, both cradling me to sleep and waking me up time after time. Just like an old friend bringing good news. A never ending circle of rebirth and hope. I had always welcomed the pitter patter of the rain and missed it when it descended from above in its coldest form. Snowflakes dancing a slow walzer with one another, frozen in time and momentum. Beauty truly is in the details. In the continuous imperfections that make something unique. In the circular motion of the seasons relentlessly sprouting and falling.

In the careful precision of the chaotic algorithm that is Nature.

By Nicole Morpurgo

Onto New Beginnings, Winter 2019 - Picture by Nicole Morpurgo

Onto New Beginnings

Broken plates, melted lead, twelve grapes and red underwear. These are only some of the new year's traditions that can be found around the world. As many of the events one celebrates in their life, everything is a beautifully multifaceted entity interpreted in various ways by people and countries. As a travel lover I have come to realize that shared holidays can be a very interesting window into understanding the similar, or very different, ways countries view the passing of time and the meaning of new beginnings.

The New Year is something that is celebrated throughout the world even if not on the same day or time, it is probably one of the most anticipated days of the year.

A couple of years ago I have started celebrating New Year’s in a different City or country to better understand what traditions are celebrated out there. It is a tradition that I have quickly have come to look forward to and am happy to have started it in the company of my sister.

Growing up in Italy, the New Year’s traditions consisted in celebrating with friends and family. A big potloc meal was set up and every guest brought something. There are certain dishes that have to be cooked and eaten, center stage are the Cotechino or Zampone with lentils. A Cotechino is a fresh sausage made from fatback, pork skin and pork. The rich meat dish is accompanied by lentils believed to bring one money in the next year. Apart from eating an important part of the New Year’s celebrations are the outdoor activities of fireworks and firecrackers, while the latter are lit throughout the night the fireworks usually start at midnight and continues into dawn.

Additionally the tradition of wearing red lingerie is believed to bring love and prosperity to the new year, the underwear must be tossed away the day after. In some parts of Italy people gather old objects and toss them out of the window to symbolize the dischargement of the old and welcoming the new year with more space for improvement.

Another country that brakes and tosses objects as a New Year’s tradition is Denmark. Throughout the year old plates are collected by families and are tossed against the front door of friends and family. More shattered plates one wakes up the greater his popularity among friends is.

In Germany on the other hand people start the year with a little fortune telling. Little lead figures are melted and dropped into cold water taking different forms that are interpreted with a chart and tell one what awaits them in the coming year. To send away bad luck and negative vibes it is believed that the lighting of many candles, firecrackers and fireworks can help. To bring each other luck people gift little marzipan sweets to each other that usually are shaped in the form of piglets, cloverleafs or chimney sweepers.

Spain has its own little ritual of eating grapes for New Year’s, twelve of them have to be eaten at every stroke of the clock. Often the event of the twelve midnight strokes is televised live and an entire country counts down and eats grapes together. Succeeding in getting all the grapes into your mouth assures good luck and prosperity for the coming year.

Looking at these traditions, one is clear, people are celebrating new beginnings by leaving behind the bad experiences the old year might have left them with. A New Year is used as the line through which one wants to cross with less problems or dead weight. New goals are set to leave what is toxic or traps one in the past. The New Year, for many, is a blank plate ready to be filled with new and exciting experiences. But is it necessary to really leave everything behind? Isn’t the old what makes it possible to make the new possible? For me the goals for the coming year have become to set new ones basing at least one on one of the past year(s). It is thanks to the past that I live in the present, that is why I want to take something with me. Might it be a good or bad experience, something that has taught me something, that has made me grow through struggle. In 2017, for example, I have learned to be patient with myself after an injury stopped my athletic career for an entire semester. Looking after myself and giving myself time had me come back even stronger once I was healed, teaching me to not only set new resolution but to also take something of the past with me in order to succeed in the coming year. What are your resolutions for the coming year? One that not only marks the start of yet another 365 days, 52.1428571 weeks, and 8760 hours, but that of a new decade.

You have time: experience, observe, grow, and keep on becoming the best version of yourself.

By Nicole Morpurgo

City Land(e)scape, Fall 2019 - Picture by Nicole Morpurgo

Land(e)scapes:

What do you see outside of your bedroom window?

Trees?Buildings?Clouds?How detailed can you describe the view?

Do you see it right now in front of your eyes or is it a view that has slowly faded into the background of your perception? Is it a treasured memory or a part of your life that you take for granted? Why has it become granted?

I started missing the view outside my window a couple of weeks before I left for University. My incumbent departure made me realize that what had been in front of my eyes for 18+ years would become memory, something of the past, something that would not be granted any more. Yet, what was awaiting me were so many more great views and experiences I would have never got to encounter if my bedroom view would have not changed; if I would have stood still.

Closing my eyes I can remember many views with one common trait: a square frame encompassing a little snippet of the world behind the glass. From the pitch black summer sky drizzled with stars I got to fall asleep under while sailing in Greece and Croatia, to the Shewmaker Hall parking lot offering breathtaking sun downs in St Cloud, to the vegetable garden terrace and the power station dusty windows at Lake Orta. I have assembled a great number of beautiful and unique bedroom window views throughout the years. What is so special about the view one gets from their window is that in a space of less than a couple of meters one can start to understand and grasp what is waiting for them outside. May it be a familiar view or one that will grow into a familiar one, the frame of a window is the door to the life outside, the street life, the soul of a city.

May it be the chaotic landscape of lights and sounds of New York City or the quiet hill sides of northern Italy, maybe the reinvigorating fresh air of the Swiss alps, or the salty air of the mediteranian sea. All of these are reachable through a square in the wall inviting you to look at a snippet of a bigger picture. With just one look out of the window the landscape that is presented to us can be the driving force for one to start to adapt and perceive the vibe of a place.

I was once told by my art history teacher in highschool to describe what I got to see while on my way home from school. Interestingly enough I could only describe less than half of the buildings and streets I had to pass through not once, but twice a day every day, for two entire years. I was baffled by the realization of the narrow perception of my surroundings. Routine had killed a habit everyone should nurture; seeing things in an active and conscious way. As I got sent off with the very simple task of “alza lo sguardo mentre torni a casa, oggi” meaning “look up while you return home, today”, a new world opened up to me. I noticed the bustle of people walking in and out of shops, elderly pairs sitting on benches, dogs running in the dog park, and the cars at the red light. However that only described the ever changing part of the picture, what drew me in was the background. At first glance it seemed to change because of the movement in the foreground. Yet it had been the same for such a long time slightly changing through time. The landscape of a city is one of the most versatile characteristics of them all. The design of the space around me became the protagonist of my perception. I noticed the way the sun fell on the corner of a street in the morning, and how it had moved to a shop window in the afternoon. I noticed the imperfection of the asphalt near the bus station. When it rained the water would gather into it and whoever was so unlucky to stand near it would get drenched by the passing cars. How about the abandoned street maintenance cabin that had been turned into a sitting spot by adolescents. Or the trees roots that, despite everything, had ventured out and beyond the little speck of dirt designated to them and had started lifting the cement. How many had tripped on those roots searching for space? How many would still do it regardless of how many times they had walked down that street? Streets have a story to tell and they will tell that story if one wants it or not. If we are lucky we will hear that story and learn to search for more stories by opening our perception bubble and start to look around.

My city, Milan, the city I had been raised in, had revealed itself in all its glory in the most beautiful way possible. Not long after my professor’s remarks I had started to bring myself to notice points of view and city landscapes that I had ignored and taken for granted. My bedroom window seemed as the perfect place to start from. That rectangle, a canvas depicting a sketch of the outside life had become the way I perceived actively my city. I encourage anyone to do the same, capture what the world has to offer and you will be rewarded.

You know the feeling of lifting fog?

The moment in which you are greeted by a breathtaking view?

Those seconds, just before it happens, and you know it will, are something else. It is liberating, thrilling to say the least. Like driving into the fog at the bottom of the mountain pass and resurfacing to be greeted by a sea of clouds. Or when one dives into a wave at the sea gets enveloped by the force of the currents to remerge seconds after.

Enjoy your city to be able to enjoy the ones you’ll visit in your life. To be able to experience them consciously. Take them in, do not only look at them through your phones and cameras and car windows. Slow down.

For too long I was not able to really experience and appreciate Milan’s landscape which had been evolving under my very eyes. I was just too engaged into escaping the beauty of what was right in front of me. I was standing still while the city evolved. Then the fog lifted...

By Nicole Morpurgo

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