Ashley Inguanta

Photograph “Shift” forthcoming in PANK

Ashley Inguanta — Thu, 24 May 2012 14:22:52 +0000

I am honored to have my photograph “Shift” forthcoming in the next print issue of PANK. This photograph is from the first underwater set I’ve ever done, which is titled Birthplace as Rented Room. This set is more like an ongoing project, and I am beyond thankful that the first photo from the project has found such a good home.

Read/listen to “It’s End of the World Karaoke” in PANK

Ashley Inguanta — Sun, 20 May 2012 14:43:12 +0000

Happy to announce the new issue of PANK is up, where you can read/listen to my story “It’s End of the World Karaoke.” It’s an honor to be included in this issue.

New artwork in Corium Magazine

Ashley Inguanta — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 22:22:26 +0000

It’s an honor to have two of my photos published in the new issue of Corium Magazine.

Check out larger versions of the photographs here.

Feature by Photographer Leslie June

Ashley Inguanta — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 15:00:14 +0000

Thank you, Leslie, for featuring my work on your blog. It’s an honor.

Interview with Dave Reale up at SmokeLong Quarterly

Ashley Inguanta — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 16:58:57 +0000

Here, I talk to artist Dave Reale about detail, collaboration, the art he creates for SmokeLong, and more.

Check it out here.

New travel essay: Time/Space: An Ode (up at the Burrow Press Review)

Ashley Inguanta — Thu, 29 Mar 2012 17:37:32 +0000

My new travel essay, “Time/Space: An Ode,” is up at the Burrow Press Review.

I’ve joined Bluecanvas!

Ashley Inguanta — Mon, 26 Mar 2012 14:40:37 +0000

I’m happy to announce that I’ve joined the Bluecanvas community, and I’m looking forward to connecting with other artists out there.

My Bluecanvas page: http://www.bluecanvas.com/ashleyinguanta

Read “Belly of the Whale” in Prime Number Magazine’s new installement, “Prime Decimals 17.5″

Ashley Inguanta — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 14:01:33 +0000

“I am in your hometown singing all the songs you used to love, all electric and big, big hair. I hitched a ride here with a man. I’m in the back of his pickup, leaning into the driver’s seat. He smells like wheat, metal.”

You called me Artist

Ashley Inguanta — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 14:33:43 +0000

You called me Artist. I was young, then, and didn’t understand. I played my piano for a woman one night and she called me Musician. We ate at Denny’s and ordered eggs sunny side down. Several good years swallowed and I’m in a house made of stars, and one of the best pole dancers in Florida, she’s in another room, her own room, sleeping. She woke from a coma that year. She’s healing. In the kitchen, we talk about making sushi out of Twinkies and gummy bears but I want her to know I am healing, too, and I want to see her again but I never do. My time in that house has come and gone fast, I realize. I feel full now. I can leave. I’ve made it to New York City alone. I’ve made it Home, to Joshua tree, alone. In a room that I associate with starvation, I call my uncle. He is dying. I mention snowflakes to my uncle and those are the last words I say to him. When I was eleven, a girl named Laura got hit by a car and died. She went to my school, but I didn’t know her. Questions come up sometimes, questions like: Where have you all gone, and This planet is not the end of the road, and then I realize these questions are more like roots, affirmations. You called me Artist and said this with such beautiful, pure honesty, and after that, everything hit at once. I am dancing underneath all of these lights now, and I am just beginning to understand how to move, how to make out with strangers, how to explain Sexuality is a continuum, over and over. I’d learn how to smoke and how to snort and how to swallow. I would learn how to clean up, clean it all up. Artist. I want to make music. I want to go back to the time when everything was beginning. I want to remember what it feels like to make music for a woman, playing for her on the piano in my living room.

Home…

Ashley Inguanta — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 14:09:58 +0000

Home as choice. Birthplace as rented room.