a ceramics piece by Serelle Carr, ’19
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photos taken by Anais Livadas, ’19
titled: friday night lights
an oil pastel illustration by Chloe Xie, ’19
Artist’s Statement
I drew this portrait of my older brother recently in Drawing and Painting Intensive during studio time. I was inspired by his pensive look!
a series of photos taken by Henry Binder, ’19
Continue reading “fall”
a poem by Rebecca Eneyni, ’19
wait!
she tells him
her eyes flushing a
wild forest green that matches
the t-shirt she wore that morning,
the ratty holey grungy
tattered cloth that perches gently
on the dimples of her
angular shoulder blades
Continue reading “wait!”
a vignette by Kathleen Segal, ’19
“For the first time, he heard something that he knew to be music. He heard people singing. Behind him, across vast distances of space and time, from the place he had left, he thought he heard music too. But perhaps, it was only an echo.” ― Lois Lowry
Ickh that’s bright. I grimaced, squinting against the harsh light. Before I could fully adjust to the light, I found myself facing the corner again. Then the window. Then the wall. Back to the window. Upside down. Sideways. And there’s the corner again. I grew taller, raised to my full height. I faced the metal, staring at my friend. After months of new faces every week, I found their constant presence comforting. But what about last time… Continue reading “perhaps”
a vignette by Corynne Stollerman, ’19
The angel dumped the contents of the orange bottle into his quivering palm. With the precision of an owl stalking its prey, he picked up a pill and dropped it in the section of his pill organizer labeled “Monday.” The chalk-gray tablets left a powdery residue on his fingertips. He picked up another and transferred it to Tuesday. The entire pill sorting process usually took upwards of half an hour. The chalky pills he was sorting now were the first in a long line up, with bottles of giant capsules filled with translucent liquids and containers of bead-sized supplements lined up on the edge of the table. They were regarding him with a drowsy gaze, as if they were even tired of the whole ordeal.
a watercolor illustration by Chloe Xie, ’19
a short story by Jacob Landau, ’22
They were just children, not entirely sure who they would be yet or where they would find themselves next year, but they kept propelling themselves through the air with their short, insignificant legs nonetheless.
Continue reading “swings to space”
