An installment of Chris Offutt’s Omnivore column, Cooking with Chris.  Big Bad Breakfast’s official slogan is “Lard have Mercy,” and I own one of their souvenir t-shirts. Recently I began to consider the words more carefully. Could it be sacrilegious? How… by Chris Offutt | Sep, 2018

A poem from the Fall 2018 issue. It is such a tragedy, all this Working. The vacation I need is on your mark, Get set, go. It’s been years Since I’ve seen the light by Alex Lemon | Oct, 2018

A Points South essay from the Fall 2018 issue My suitcase is full of batik and baby cologne. One bar emulates the American South. The cover band plays Journey. by Helene Achanzar | Sep, 2018

A poem from the Fall 2018 issue. Heading east on Route 6, A young couple scutters by On a motorbike. Harley, I think. On their way to the beach. I can See his feet are bare, resting inches From the muffler’s burning heat—oh The recklessness of… by Kate Daniels | Sep, 2018

A feature essay from the Fall 2018 issue. Why was my great-great-grandfather always referred to as “Robert Singleton, the Civil War veteran who lost his leg at Murfreesboro, then went on to become Clerk of the County Court” rather than… by Danielle Chapman | Sep, 2018

 A Letter from the Editor, Fall 2018. I was struck by a phrase written by Jelani Cobb for the New Yorker, which characterized our former president as “a man who grasps history as the living context of our lives.” This… by Eliza Borné | Sep, 2018

A feature essay from the Fall 2018 issue. Prine radiates a sense of well-being, along with a sort of amused nonchalance toward potential disaster. This is a good thing, because the Coupe, as it turns out, has no passenger-side safety… by Tom Piazza | Oct, 2018

A Points South essay from the Fall 2018 issue I've come to have a friendship with a raven in Paris. I call him Cleitus, a name that I picked up from a Dukes of Hazzard episode or Greek mythology. The… by Megan Mayhew Bergman | Sep, 2018

Anne Spencer’s ecosystem of art and activism As I read, I fell in love with Anne Spencer’s fierceness and wit. In some ways, she reminded me of my own grandmother—a voluble woman, gardener, and scrawler of notes on the back… by Tess Taylor | Oct, 2018

Ryan Steed

Ryan Steed is a Memphis-based photographer and educator. He completed an MFA in Photography at Memphis College of Art, where he currently teaches darkroom and social documentary photography. He has recently exhibited work in Memphis, Little Rock, Portland, Minneapolis, and Brooklyn, and his work has been published by Aint-Bad and Number:Inc.

May 15, 2018

The images in Ryan Steed’s Went Out for Cigarettes span four Southern states but are occupied by a common “physical and psychological landscape” shaped by the act of travel itself. Marked by the omnipresence of roadside signs and messages scrawled on windows and walls, Steed’s project is concerned with the witness and discovery inherent in any journey.