In the final gasps of 2020, Pantone said 2021 is coming and it could go two different ways. For the first time, they gave us two colors for the upcoming year- Ultimate Gray and Illuminating. For those of us pinning our hopes on an improvement in circumstances, beginning at 12:01 am on January 1st, a hope which would be quickly dashed not only when we all went back to work after some holiday days off in a pandemic still, but when an organized group of politically and militarily organized white supremacists attempted to stage a violent coup on January 6th, Pantone’s choice was funny. A vibrant yellow, so sunny, next to a gloomy and perfect gray. The choice and the contrast couldn’t be more visually obvious.

But we all knew, deep down, that the idea of 2020 being a uniquely bad year was an illusion. 2020 only happened because of the amalgamation of the many bad years that preceded it, and 2021 would likely be no different. Pantone gave us the perfect visual for our bright collective hope, which masked an underlying bedrock.

I found myself, though, unconsciously surrounding myself with yellow, even tones of yellow that seemed so close to Illuminating it felt creepy. I started documenting the moments I naturally encountered this color in my world- a shrunken, domestic, and cocooned world that consisted of only my husband, son, and me. A universe that had stopped expanding for all three of us. And yellow was often paired with gray, a color which has always been one of my favorites. 

It felt uncanny, the way Pantone had predicted my colorway for the year.

Pantone says their choice “is aspirational and gives us hope.”

I liked the way they seemed to believe, so strongly, that colors can change our minds. That what we look at can seep into our lives.

I hoped we could imbue our first 2021 issue with accepting the reality of our world side by side with the idea of aspiration. In it, we are proud to present our 4th yearlong conversation between Wendy C. Ortiz and another writer. This year, with Lizz Huerta, her approach to the interview form is more important and yet more refreshing than ever, a way to get into the heads of writers over a long period of time. We’re also publishing Max Delsohn’s review of Detransition, Baby, since it seems like the rare instance the literary world is reading a book together in a wonderful cosmic book club. This issue’s poetry is by Courtney Bush, with an opening couplet that is “too real.” An essay by Nicholas Russell on Hozier and a short story by Jessie Shabin round out the issue to make us think, hard, about language and feeling and even love at the end of the world.

My little family cocoon made some new and important decisions to keep ourselves as healthy and happy as possible. We began to prioritize ourselves, a hard lesson we learned as every choice that didn’t over the past year made our lives feel fragile and uncertain. What I’m learning is even when things get better, the fear of a reversal of fortune looms over life, daily life, political life, the lives of our neighbors. So the yellow is there, I see it, but I don’t see it by itself, it’s always paired with gray. 

And so I present the first 2021 issue of the Triangle House Review, with pride and optimism, knowing that you might be reading it surrounded by gray.

Love,

Monika