A provocative and timely new take on self-portraiture and erotica Featuring a black vinyl cover with gold foil stamping, Say So brings together American artist Whitney Hubbs' (born 1977) recent self-portraits, made in the style of cheap, pornographic pin-up photography. After her acclaimed book Woman in Motion, in which she photographed models, Say So continues her quest to explore and challenge the relationship between the camera and the female body. In it, she uses and abuses her own body to revealing effect in masochistic (BDSM) performances which sit at the intersection of eroticism and humiliation and are wonderfully uncomfortable to digest. Using the camera as both an audience and a mirror, Hubbs positions her work within a long tradition of artists using photographic self-portraiture--from Claude Cahun to Valie Export and Boris Mikhailov--and reworks its language with a stripped-down, rowdy formalism that pays homage to her Riot Grrrl past. Say So offers up an outside position (drenched in inky black humor) responding to precarity, loneliness and marginalization in a world badly off its tilt. Hubbs' photographic work is accompanied by a new essay by iconic writer and critic Chris Kraus, author of the seminal novel I Love Dick.

A provocative and timely new take on self-portraiture and erotica Featuring a black vinyl cover with gold foil stamping, Say So brings together American artist Whitney Hubbs' (born 1977) recent self-portraits, made in the style of cheap, pornographic pin-up photography. After her acclaimed book Woman in Motion, in which she photographed models, Say So continues her quest to explore and challenge the relationship between the camera and the female body. In it, she uses and abuses her own body to revealing effect in masochistic (BDSM) performances which sit at the intersection of eroticism and humiliation and are wonderfully uncomfortable to digest. Using the camera as both an audience and a mirror, Hubbs positions her work within a long tradition of artists using photographic self-portraiture--from Claude Cahun to Valie Export and Boris Mikhailov--and reworks its language with a stripped-down, rowdy formalism that pays homage to her Riot Grrrl past. Say So offers up an outside position (drenched in inky black humor) responding to precarity, loneliness and marginalization in a world badly off its tilt. Hubbs' photographic work is accompanied by a new essay by iconic writer and critic Chris Kraus, author of the seminal novel I Love Dick.

On the unique meaning-making of image-text art In a series of textual and photographic essays, writer and editor Catherine Taylor explores our encounters with the intersection of the visual and the verbal. Taylor riffs on and subverts Roland Barthes' classic 1977 essay collection, Image Music Text, using his title as a playful point of departure for her thinking about the nature of image-text works and the music being made at their intersection. Taylor rejects overarching statements about medium or genre in favor of observing the particular to reveal broader ways of reading that are both familiar and disorientating. These reflections are at once critical and celebratory, dystopian and utopian, investigative and contemplative, didactic and dreamlike. They are imaginings of the world which ask: as we shuttle between linguistic and visual modes of meaning-making, what is the purpose of reinventing forms if not to reinvent ways of living? The author of You, Me, and the Violence, Apart and Giving Birth, Catherine Taylor (born 1964) is a founding editor of Essay Press, and an associate professor in writing at Ithaca College, where she codirects the Image Text MFA. She is also a codirector of ITI Press.

An intimate exploration into the musical genius of fifteen living jazz legends, from the longtime New York Times jazz critic Jazz is conducted almost wordlessly: John Coltrane rarely told his quartet what to do, and Miles Davis famously gave his group only the barest instructions before recording his masterpiece "Kind of Blue." Musicians are often loath to discuss their craft for fear of destroying its improvisational essence, rendering jazz among the most ephemeral and least transparent of the performing arts. In The Jazz Ear, the acclaimed music critic Ben Ratliff sits down with jazz greats to discuss recordings by the musicians who most influenced them. In the process, he skillfully coaxes out a profound understanding of the men and women themselves, the context of their work, and how jazz—from horn blare to drum riff—is created conceptually. Expanding on his popular interviews for The New York Times, Ratliff speaks with Sonny Rollins, Ornette Coleman, Branford Marsalis, Dianne Reeves, Wayne Shorter, Joshua Redman, and others about the subtle variations in generation, training, and attitude that define their music. Playful and keenly insightful, The Jazz Ear is a revelatory exploration of a unique way of making and hearing music.

Do you ever question God’s ability to catch you when you fall? Do shame, fear, and brokenness keep you from fully trusting God? Do you secretly believe your dreams are unreachable? Do you secretly believe your dreams are unreachable? You are not alone. This is a book about trust. How we fight it. How we learn to do it. How it transforms us. Life is not safe. That reality slips over us as we grow. Our response to the Father in that reality allows us either to swing higher and higher with the trust of a child . . . or fearfully shrink back from the swing set altogether. As we weigh that choice, God whispers: Trust me. In a remarkably transparent account, author and speaker Sheila Walsh opens wide her lifelong battle with trust and the moment-by-moment choices she made to follow where God led. Sheila has lived a life ruled by the “hidden places” of insecurity and brokenness and knows the overwhelming beauty of a life wholly handed over to Christ. As you encounter her struggles and triumphs, you also meet ten of the Bible’s transformed—Tabitha, David, Paul, and others—who teach us that in spite of overwhelming circumstances, just one trusting encounter with Christ sets beautiful things in motion. It can resurrect dreams, instill purpose, and ignite hope.