Declare a space and claim it.

SUBMISSION BY TERRA FULLER \\ 5.29.2020

SUBMISSION BY BRIAN THORSTENSON / PEPPER \\ 4.18.2020

SUBMISSION BY SEMIRA DANIELS \ 4.11.2020

The deck in my backyard = claimed 

SUBMISSION BY ERIC GARCIA \\ 3.23.2020

This area is nestled on an Andean peak in the Salta province of Argentina. My friend and I rented a car and drove up to this area (which was no small feat). I’m not going to even begin to try and describe the sensation in my body and mind being there — I’ll just say that I couldn’t stop crying. Maybe it was the spirits. Maybe it was the altitude. Maybe it was Devendra Banhart’s music that carried us up there.

This is a space I now have forever access to. Although I can’t claim the land, this memory and state of being has now imprinted itself into me.

SUBMISSION BY ERIN MEI-LING STUART \\ 3.22.2020

Well, I'm not too crazy about how this turned out, but in the spirit of not being to precious about things, here it is. (I sense this will be a theme with my jukebox submissions.) I've taken countless snapshots of this view from the top corner of Dolores Park over the years. It's a space that belongs to everyone, but also feels like it belongs particularly to me. I'm magnetically drawn there on the daily walks that give me a little break from sheltering-in-place in my studio apartment. I'm not the only one. Around sunset, neighbors make the pilgrimage up the hill to survey the city. Yesterday, I overheard a who had claimed a prime bench spot say "the world's on fire, but I'm just gonna sit up here and watch the clouds go by."  Today, just before I took this picture, a man behind me yelled "Carry a purse!" Was that directed at me? Maybe. I didn't have a purse. I was traveling light on this little stroll. Long pause. "Just don't hit me with with it!" Ok, probably not directed at me. It's cool. I claimed the space, but I'm happy to share it.

SUBMISSION BY ANGELO LEOTTA \\ 3.21.2020