by Daniel G. Reinhold
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Statement about Artist
We are honored to include Daniel G. Reinhold’s art work and poetry in this issue, and would like to thank his widow, Patty Carbajal, for procuring and identifying his artwork and giving us permission to reprint. Faculty member Jenny Factor spoke of him with eloquence in this Lunch Ticket post, “Some Memories of Daniel G. Reinhold.” I have a single memory of Daniel from my first “brown bag” reading during an Antioch MFA residency, which is where students read works-in-progress and polished material in front of peers. He was graduating that term and I was in my first semester, terrified, my hands trembling on the pages I was about to read. He read a poem about his deceased brother, which moved me to tears, and just afterward, I had to collect myself and read an essay about my recently passed father. I recognized in his work the grief that naturally follows us throughout our lives, empty spaces we must fill again, never quite matching the original contours of what has gone missing. Grief is jagged. In looking over some of Daniel’s art work, I see the reproduction of those ideas—the smaller spaces held within larger ones, circles within circles, eclipses of color that overlap but never quite complete.