Our Mission
Stone Canoe is a community project in the broadest sense. It is committed to showcasing the work of artists and writers from, or somehow connected to, the Upstate New York region. But, as you will discover by even a brief glance at its contents, the perspective of the journal is far from parochial. The contributors to Stone Canoe No. 1 (71 in all) represent remarkable diversity in every respect—age, level of experience, cultural background, choice of subject matter, and point of view. Geographically, our “local” contributors range from Albany to Buffalo, and from Binghamton to Canton. There are writers and artists representing 11 of the region’s colleges and universities. There are people who grew up in Syracuse, like Diana Abu-Jaber, or those who were educated here, like Stephen Dunn and Robert Phillips, who have gone on to forge distinguished careers elsewhere. There are major writers like Jhumpa Lahiri and Rhina Espaillat whose brief visits have energized our community. There are artists like Wendy Gonyea and Tom Huff whose ancestors have lived in the region since the beginnings of oral history. There are recent immigrants like John Bul Dau and Mario Javier whose celebration of their heritage further enriches the lives of their newfound neighbors. There are students from local and regional high schools. There are artists and writers whose life circumstances have forced them to pursue their artistic goals “on the side,” and others who have had to fight through disabilities to make their voices heard. Pulitzer Prize winners are positioned next to writers publishing their first work. Our editorial strategy has been to mix all these together in an attempt to dramatize the collective power of their artistic contribution and to discover what new meaning their work takes on in juxtaposition.
Each voice or hand adds to the texture of our collective experience. Some of the work is directly related to local history, such as Elaine Handley’s tale of the Underground Railroad and the Erie Canal, David Hajdu’s account of the burning of comic books in Upstate towns, and Marion Wilson’s encounter with the malevolent spirit of John Jamelske. There are homages to the environment, such as Lewraine Graham’s graceful landscapes and Joseph Scheer’s remarkable moth photographs. Others range further afield, taking on subjects like racism and jazz, addiction in the family, village life in India, and the horrors of war in Viet Nam, Iraq, or Africa. There are multiple perspectives on what it means to be Native American, Jewish American, Arab American, or African American; what it means to be a son, daughter, mother, or father; what it feels like to be young, old, rejected, loved, lonely, angry, full of joy, or full of fear. Occasionally the subject matter or language may be troubling to some readers. One must remember, however, that the best artists often expose us to unfamiliar or unpleasant truths, and challenge us to confront them with new clarity.
