Eric Jackson-Forsberg

Holden Maddox is a curator haunted by his pursuit of the truth. His esoteric study of Frank Lloyd Wright design and his attempts to sort out his shadowy, small-town past are irresistible obsessions. Driven by a desire to reconstruct his personal history and forge a future for himself, Holden is drawn into a mystery surrounding two pieces of art glass, artifacts with convoluted roots much older and deeper than he knows. Uncanny forces—from the far reaches of the solar system to the Brooklyn Bridge—complicate the quest in ways that defy his imagination, test his resolve, and bend the laws of physics.

I spent the late 90s doing battle with the product of one of Buffalo and SUNY’s most notorious design decisions: The University at Buffalo expansion campus in Amherst, NY. The first time I set foot on campus, I found that what I had heard was true: It put the brutal in Brutalist. Architectural style aside—after all, as I would learn, Brutalism in and of itself was not a sin—the UB Amherst campus had other, more systemic problems baked into its design—problems which are again top of mind.

Joining such techno-dystopian songs as "Computer Love" (Kraftwerk), "Deep Blue" (Arcade Fire), and much of Radiohead's OK Computer, Vienna Teng's "The Hymn of Acxiom" addresses the increasingly intimate relationship between people and computers. But, more than some of its counterparts, Teng's song characterizes the creepiness of such cybernetic intercourse through its form as well as its content.

From our first childhood friends to adult partners and confidants, relationships are a vital part of life. But EITs face two challenges when it comes to developing relationships and forging a supportive community: Feeling cut off from the support of family and friends when incarcerated and dealing with destructive thinking patterns that hamper the formation or continuation of beneficial relationships.