Fall pages 2012


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Fall pages 2012

  1. 1. BeanSwitch StaffExecutive Editors – Misty Dunlap Sheila ScottVisual Editor – Kalsey StultsSupporting Cast - Eli Anderson Eric Brand Dave Chambliss Jonathan French Rocky Holland Zack Nabors Jennifer Parrish Madilyn Peay Beth Reed Lyndsay Riggs Crystal Springer Marah Vogt Sarah WilliamsFaculty Advisors - Chris Hill – Department of English and Modern Foreign Languages Jeffery Longacre – Department of English and Modern Foreign Languages Tomi Parrish – Department of Communications 
  2. 2. Art Table of ContentsFire and Ice Cody Speed CoverBallet Dancer Memori DePriest 1Mystic Moon Zachariah Dickson 3Not Ready to Leave Here Cody Speed 9Tearfall Zachariah Dickson 11Drops of Jupiter Cody Speed 13Distant Places Bring Lonesome Faces Cody Michael Williams 15The Calling Mary Jean Hall 16? Alexandra Stover 19Wish Right Now Cody Speed 20Sadness Zachariah Dickson 23Gaze Alexandra Stover 26Tree Woman Cries Zachariah Dickson 24Dance It All Away Beth Crocker 28To be Unmeasured Cody Michael Williams 31Waterland Zachariah Dickson 33Blooming with Hue Jocelyne Barchet 34Another View of the Eiffel Tower Kara Kidwell 35Abstract Painting Lauren Suiter 36Center Melanie O’Neil 37Wine Bottle Aaron Burks 38Alone at Last Megan Schwab 39
  3. 3. Curious Aquarium Jocelyne Barchet 40Nighttime Melanie O’Neil 41Gilt and Crystal at the Louvre Kara Kidwell 43Night Sky Dreamscape Jocelyne Barchet 45Blackhole Sun Zach Johnson 46Oil Alexandra Stover 48Into the Dark Cody Speed 50The Companion Diane Shaw 54Tilted, Twisted, and Worn Donna Hacker 57Wonderland Zachariah Dickson 59Feather Stone Cody Speed 60Deadly Substance Jocelyne Barchet 6912:30 Aaron Burks 70Timeless Kait Scott 73
  4. 4. Literary Table of ContentsThe Wedding Dance Belinda Barker 2The Visitors Sonny Taylor 4These Shoes Belinda Barker 10We Buried a Boy Today Belinda Barker 12Benefits Brittney Reed 14In God We Trust Ashley Burton 17A Sideways Glance Kristin Brooks 21Wonder Lust Rachel Hurst 25Colorful Jami Miller 27The All Powerful Hairy Hand Jonathan Lucas French 29The Question Cody Jarman 32Ephemera Brittney Reed 42A Modern Pyramus and Thisbe Misty Dunlap 44Rotting Teeth Rachel Hurst 47The Gremlin of All Hallow’s Eve Eli Anderson 49Should I Do This? Regan Ward 51The Shakes Toshya Leonard 55Family Photographs Belinda Barker 58Road to Recovery Rocky Holland 61Please, Professor Kathleen Alford 71
  5. 5. Ballet Dancer Memori DePriest Title: Ballet Dancer Media: Graphite Pencils Size: 11 x 14 inchesIntention: Wanted to try a technique we had done earlier in figure drawing while it was fresh on my mind. 1
  6. 6. The Wedding Dance Belinda Barkerthe wedding danceof dreams yet untolda ballerina I am! graceand beauty to beholda dress of organzaor leather or laceand the joy of completion ripeon my facemy Papa in earnestshowing his prizeand me in his gloryreflecting his eyesthe wedding danceof dreams now tolda woman I am! graceand beauty to behold   2
  7. 7. Mystic Moon Zacharia Dickson Graphic Design 2170 X 2996 pixels Capturing the eye of the viewer with the many aspects of thenight, and provoking the same mystified emotion that one has when looking at the moon. 3
  8. 8. The Visitor Sonny Taylor Sitting in the hospital waiting room, a little girl swings her legs slowly. Herhands are braced on the semi-soft plastic of the chair cushion as she looks aroundthe sterile, dimly lit room with soft brown eyes. Hospitals are nothing new to thisfour-year-old, though for once she’s experiencing the waiting room as a visitor,not a patient soon to be ushered back into a room. Still, the nurses are familiar toher. Her gaze halts its exploration of the off-white walls as the squeaking of shoesreaches her ears. Glancing in that direction, she smiles hesitantly at the womanwalking towards her, a nurse she knows from her countless visits here. Thisnurse, she remembers, is particularly gentle when drawing blood. “Hi!” she chimes sweetly, giving the woman a delighted smile, revealingteeth that are just crooked enough to be charming, along with deep dimples. Thenurse stops by the little girl’s chair, the squeaking of her typical white shoescoming to an abrupt halt. “Hey, sweetie,” she answers warmly, her voice low and soothing. To thelittle girl, she sounds like what a nurse should sound like, comforting, gentle andfriendly. Reaching one calloused hand into the pocket of her hot pink scrubs, shepulls out a prized piece of candy for the girl, a small red lollipop wrapped in clearplastic. Smiling, the girl takes the lollipop and opens it, popping it into her mouthwith a soft lip-smacking sound as she mumbles a polite, thank you. The nurselaughs, reaching out to ruffle the little one’s dark curls. “Are you excited about meeting your little brother?” Gazing up at the nice woman’s angular face and pretty green eyes, the littlegirl rolls her eyes. “Not really. Babies are ugly. But, Momma says I ain’t gunna thank that whenI see him,” she answers honestly, knowing that it isn’t right to lie. The nurse laughs, shaking her head slightly. As the tip of her long blondponytail brushes against her back, she gives the girl a conspirator’s grin. 4
  9. 9. “I thought my little brother was ugly when he was born, too. And he suredid annoy me. But, I loved him, and when he woke us up in the middle of thenight with his crying, I’d always try to help my parents get him back to sleep.” The little girl wrinkles her nose, her pale lips turning downwards to form aserious frown. “I sure hope he don’t keep me up all night. I gotta go to school, ya know.” “I’m sure you’ll be able to get plenty of sleep, sw--” The nurse’s response is cutoff by the sudden voice booming in the air, the intercom speaker almost visiblyrattling from the sound. She lets out a startled sigh and stands quickly.“You be good now,” she calls as she rushes off, her shoes squeaking again, muchfaster this time. Nearly an hour later, a painfully long amount of time for the little girl, adoctor comes out and leads her back into a room. She skips along beside himhappily, her tiny legs working overtime to keep up with his long strides. Once inthe room, the girl lets out a delighted cry of “Mommy!” before rushing towardsthe woman. She half climbs onto the bed, struggling slightly with its height, toplant a loud cherry scented kiss on the dark haired woman’s sweaty cheek. Thenshe freezes, her brown eyes locking on the bundle in the baby bed next to herMommy. “Is that him?” she asks curiously, not looking away from the bundle to seeher mother’s smile.“That’s him, alright. You have a little brother, possum britches. His name isNathan,” the mother answers weakly, obviously more than a tad tired from thehours of labor. The little girl hops off the bed and walks slowly over to the baby’s bed,stretching up on her tiptoes to see him better. As her mother and the doctor talk,the girl stares at the little thing in the bed. It doesn’t look completely human; itshead is big, its body is too long, its hands are chubby, and its fingers are so tinythat she isn’t sure they’re fully formed. As she stares at him, the little thing blinksslowly and then gazes up at her with squinty blue eyes. She reaches over slowlyto touch his puffy little hand, wondering why his skin is so red that when shetouches it the spot around her fingers goes all white and weird looking. The baby 5
  10. 10. wiggles his fingers slightly, barely a twitch, and she slides her index finger againsthis palm. As he closes his tiny little stubs around her slim digit, a delighted smilebreaks across her innocent face. Practically glowing with happiness, she gazesadoringly at the little boy until he closes his eyes again and releases her finger. Finally, she looks towards her mother again. “Mommy?” she quips quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby. “Yes?” “I gunna call him Bubba,” she answers, as though this is the most simple,and highly important, thing in the world. For around six months the little girl goes to school when she has to, butotherwise she stays home, practically attached to her brother’s side. In her mind,the rapidly growing baby is the most precious thing in the world. She doesn’tmind when he cries. She patiently allows him to pull on her long brown curls. Shegiggles at how much noise he makes when he’s happy and how he smiles when hesees her. Life is perfect. One night, at her grandma’s house, Bubba is lying on the couch whileMomma gets ready to change his diaper. The girl prances into the kitchen,opening the door to the large white refrigerator and looking around in it. Notfinding what she wants, she shuts the door and heads towards the back porch toask her Pa if he can help. However, before she can cross the distance, she hearsan alarmed cry. She rushes towards the sound quickly, hearing her Bubba’s wailstart up. Before she can get to him, she’s scooped up in her Daddy’s arms andcarried in the opposite direction. Daddy takes her home, without Momma orBubba, and for hours she paces the house, whining impatiently and demanding tosee her brother. Finally, Momma comes in the door, Bubba in her arms. The littlegirl rushes towards them, rambling on a mile a minute wanting to know what’shappening and why everyone’s so upset. “Bubby just hit his head,” Momma explains quietly, as the strapping babyboy reaches impatiently for his sister, making grabby hands.Satisfied with this response, and seeing that he’s okay, the little girl reachesup and slides her own sun-kissed hand into his chubby paw. Things go back tonormal, for a few days. 6
  11. 11. Three nights later, the little girl stands in the waiting room of a hospital,yet again. This time, tears streak down her cheeks and she clutches her jacketclosed around her pajamas. A Beanie Baby puppy is firmly squished between onearm and her chest as she sobs quietly, pleading with anyone who will listen, toplease tell her what’s wrong. She can’t understand why her Bubba was shaking sobadly, or why her Momma and Daddy are crying and they aren’t allowed to seehim. As they cart the little boy out of the hospital on a stretcher, into the awaitinghelicopter, the little girl rushes after him. She stands in the hospital doors,watching the massive blades slice through the air, practically cowering away fromthe terrible sound. She watches with wide, terrified eyes as the giant metal beasttakes her brother away. Then, she’s rushed off to her grandma’s house whileMomma and Daddy go to take care of Bubba and bring him home.Not a week later, she’s sitting in the miniature rocking chair in the middle of hergrandma’s living room, clutching the same stuffed puppy to her chest. Her faceis still streaked with tears, but she’s smiling up at a man in a dark suit. This man,his light brown eyes warm and welcoming, jokes with her. He asks to sit in herchair, and she squeals in protest, informing him that he’s too big and will breakit. He asks to see her puppy, and she clutches it tighter, her bright smile suddenlyfading. He sighs, his dark skin lacking in a certain glow that shows someoneis enjoying his activity. Brushing his lanky fingers through his short brownhair, he crouches down in front of the girl, giving her a very serious look. Andthen he asks a round of questions that range from just plain silly to absolutelydevastating. Finally, she’s in tears again, glaring up at this man. His eyes are nolonger warm but full of sorrow. He smoothes over his dark suit nervously, unsure as to how to face thewrath of this tiny whirlwind. “My Mommy and Daddy are not mean. You are mean. Stop bothering me.Go away. NOW!” Her voice rises with each word, until she’s shouting at him, hercheeks flushed and her eyes nearly black with fury. “They never hurt us!” she adds in a softer tone, the words broken by a sob,before she rushes out. The man in the suit thanks her grandma for their time, shaking her handand apologizing for upsetting the little girl. Then he turns to his partner, a man 7
  12. 12. with a similar appearance but no fondness or sympathy for children. This manhad been ignored by the little girl during the entire meeting, as she’d heard himtelling her grandma that they didn’t want her seeing her mother or father. “I think she made it pretty clear,” the nicer man says as they take theirleave. Days go by, the funeral passing in a blur that she doesn’t even want toremember. She cries almost constantly, wanting her brother back, wanting to seeher parents, wanting to know why God is being so mean. The days turn to monthsbefore she’s allowed to live with her parents, only seeing them when supervised.During this time, the only comfort to her is her dreams. Every night, she experiences the same dream. A soft glowing white lightsurrounds her, and soon enough she isn’t alone, but in the company of a beautifulwoman with long blond hair and comforting green eyes. This woman, however,isn’t dressed in hot pink scrubs or bringing lollipops. A white dress that seemsto flow and flutter constantly covers her willowy form in a demure fashion, thesleeves falling well past her hands. Large white wings sprout from her back, asource of interest to the girl even though she understands what they mean. Thefeathers ruffle occasionally, in response to some movement or action, creating acomforting sound that soon becomes the little girl’s new version of her brother’slaugh. And a thin ring of gold hovers above the woman’s head, glowing with thesame bright white light as everything else in this dreamscape. The woman bringsnews, her voice somehow holding every happy memory the little girl has of herbrother. The news is always the same. Bubba is okay, he is happy; he is withpeople that love him. He is not gone. As much as the little girl may want to stay in this dream with this womanwho reminds her of happiness, she cannot. Soon enough, life returns tohappiness; though, there are moments of great sorrow. She returns to her parents.She grows up. She never forgets the visitors of her youth: the nurse that told herit was possible to like her brother; the man in the suit that tried to gain her trust,simply so he could question her about her parents; and the angel that visitedher dreams to help her find closure. But most importantly, the adorable littleboy, who was the most amazing Bubba in the world, while he had the time to be,the little boy that changed her life, and left a deep mark on her heart, soul, andfamily. 8
  13. 13. Not Ready to Leave Here Cody Speed Not Ready to Leave Here Pen and Ink 8x11 Leaving behind someone you love. 9
  14. 14. These Shoes Belinda Barkerthese shoesnever worn in my youthstiff and unyieldingperched high ontheir lofty placewaitingthese shoesbrought down with halting purposealien and newbeside a dressthe color of mourningwaitingthese shoescreased with maps from my tearsscalloped and hotfallen from downward eyesthat cannot turn awaywaitingthese shoesrediscoveredbroken and plianthidden beneath the silent storiesof my lifewaiting 10
  15. 15. Tear Fall Zacharia Dickson Graphic Design 1384 X 3648 pixelsRepresents the sadness of losing a loved one, through the heart of a grieving child. 11
  16. 16. We Buried a Boy Belinda Barkerwe buried a boy todaya beautiful boythe soundof a mother’s silent mourningthe soundof your own child’s griefunimaginable soundsunanswerable questionsunthinkable answersthe soundof each heart rendingjoining all the othersdesperate to make senseof the beautiful boy’s deaththe soundof young men in unisontheir cadence crushed and strongsinging the swan song of the boythe soundof lovewe buried a boy todaya beautiful boyIn loving memory of Jacob Cole Nunley (September 22,1993--September 10, 2012) 12
  17. 17. Drops of Jupiter Cody Speed Acrylic on canvas 20x16 Looking up and seeing the one you lost in the stars. 13
  18. 18. BenefitsYou sit across from meand tell me about my retirement options. Brittney ReedEven you know this is ridiculous:the tiny giggle bubbles from your lipsat the end of each sentence.You were running late—I’m twenty-three.I must make you feel awkward.You tell me about my new lifeinsurance policy, and I wonder if I diedhow much money my parents would get,if it would be enough for even one roundof my father’s chemo. If it could gathereach hair from his pillow, weave it into somethingother than an empty bank accountand a line of zeros.My face is pale but unfair, unlined.They call me sweetie on the phone, ask for my superior.The little I command is too much.They want to know where I hide my incompetence.I must keep it in my tiny pocket of years,sewn into the hem of my thrift store skirt.You push pages across your deskand I sign each one with my namebut also with thank you,with I’m sorry,I don’t want this,I have no place in my life to put it.I don’t want this,I have no place in my life to put it.  14
  19. 19. Distant Places Bring Lonesome Faces Cody Williams 15
  20. 20. The Calling Mary Jean Hall The Calling Digital PhotoCapturing the beauty of nature. 16
  21. 21. In God We TrustIt all seems the same Ashley BurtonJustification for a gameReality for a peaceA color of a painting for which we might beThe same God in a different landHolding the same handsLeading people to understandYet you hate and migrateAnd won’t seek face ofAnyone who looks differentlyThan youWho speaks with more slurs than you do?And we sin and say only God can judge meLike it is ok to be a slob of whom we teach not to beIt all seems the sameJustification for a gameReality for a peaceA color of a painting for which we might beWars based on differencesAnd we neglect what is significantFor prized possessions that fade awayAnd say we want a piece of heavenYet don’t search for righteousnessOr pray to understand what needs to be understoodThis is a land where people look at your shoesBefore they speak to youAnd ask what you doInstead of asking about youIt all seems the sameJustification for a gameReality for a peaceA color of a painting for which we might be 17
  22. 22. We base our trust in a government we distrustAnd take from the poorKnock if you may on murderers’ doorAnd we claim that every hard working person is evilWe belittle if they don’t meet the standards of everyone elseWe have forgotten about the collective goodAnd only think about selfWe say AmenAlthough we don’t agreeWe get on our knees to do everything but praySo I sayIt all seems the sameJustification for a gameReality for a peaceA color of a painting for which we might be  18
  23. 23. Noah’s Ark Alexandra Stover 19
  24. 24. Wish Right Now Cody Speed Acrylic on canvas 20x16Saying goodbye to all your dreams and wishing for a reprieve. 20
  25. 25. A Sideways Glance Kristin BrooksBeth quietly retrieved her coffee from the counter of the coffee shop, andretreated to a corner seat in the back of the supposedly warm, and welcom-ing café. She couldn’t help but enjoy the warm rays of the sun that, regardlessof the bold orange blinds, seemed to be drawn to her like two magnets, thathad found themselves in the bottom of the cluttered kitchen ‘catch-all’ draw-er. She seemed to be surrounded by warmth: the friendly waitress behindthe counter who had smiled, as she had unknowingly given her the incor-rect change; the rays of sun passing through the windows; and the appealingsideways glance of the handsome young gentlemen, sitting across from hersipping, on what appeared to be a latte, covered in rich cream. Wait, this lastentry in the never-ending lists of her mind was one that had not been noticed,or logged mentally, before. She found herself out of her comfort zone, beingone who usually melted, unnoticed into the scenery.The man reminded her of Steven, her ex, who had broken her heart, just a fewmonths before. She had fallen in love with him, and the year that they hadbeen together, had been wonderful. Beth had always been a quiet person, whonever said much, and was always in the shadow of others. Steven had the un-canny ability of making her forget about her self-conscious nature, and coulddraw her out of herself enough, that she could enjoy life. She had finallylearned to trust him, and had started to picture their future together, just asher world had come crashing down. He had sat her down at the kitchen table,in the apartment that they shared, and bluntly told her that he had met some-one else. He left shortly after that, and she hadn’t seen him since. This hadpropelled her back deeper, into her painfully shy world of self-consciousness,and withdrawal.Seeing this man, Beth thought to herself, that maybe this was the start toa new beginning, a second chance at a life with someone else. She held herbreath as the man smiled, rose to his feet, and started to make his way toher table. Her heart fluttered, as his shiny black shoes waded through what 21
  26. 26. had once been a cup of coffee strewn along the floor that had carelessly and in-efficiently been cleaned up. Her mind flew to the possibilities of what he mightsay to her, and what she could possibly say that would keep him from running inthe opposite direction. She always had been able to say just the wrong thing thatwould cause a guy to quickly excuse himself, from her presence, but maybe shehad learned enough from Steven, to keep this guy from bolting.He grew closer and closer, and time seemed to pass slower and slower. Time wasjolted into what seemed an endless Hades, as he passed by her and reached forthe decorative handle of the exit door, she had unknowingly placed herself be-side, as she felt her hopes diminish and her dream for a normal life disappear,along with the handsome stranger, around the bustling street corner. 22
  27. 27. Sadness Zachariah Dickson Graphic Design 2265 X 7681 pixelsEmotions: meant to be seen, not held in and thought on. 23
  28. 28. Gaze Alexandra Stover Watercolor (landscape) Acrylic (characters) on canvas 18x24Putting my original characters in their natural environ- ment for the first time. 24
  29. 29. Wonder Lust Rachel HurstI want to take this worldAnd crack it within these trembling hands.I want to take itAnd press its fractures to my lipsSo that I can drink deeply of itsWonders and secrets. 25
  30. 30. Tree Woman Cries Cody Speed Graphic Design 2264 X 3046 pixelsEven when the world around you is beautiful, it does not make up the grief within oneself. 26
  31. 31. Colorful Jami Miller Blue lips, Red eyes Violet patches on my skin Reluctant apologies Mean nothing when Released from those lips And then I hear himWhisper “you are my favorite fragile thing” And I am in love again. 27
  32. 32. Dance It All Away Beth Crocker Permanent Marker and Sharpie 9x12Expressing joy, youth, and freedom in the use of the figure and the colors. 28
  33. 33. The All Powerful Hairy Hand Jonathan Lucas French He was lying there in the rank smell of urine and shit, stiff, like a fish youleft in the back of a pickup too long on a hot day. With his pants and underwearat his ankles it was almost surreal seeing him there, in the basement of thechurch, where my family knelt and prayed, sang and danced. With an open mouthand eyes wide open, stuck, frozen in time, his face was mashed against the coldcement floor. It was so much to take in, standing there seeing him. I didn’t daremove nor make a sound. I just stood and stared, listening to the music and thepeople I knew to be good, dancing and celebrating Jesus in all His glory, in thesanctuary above. It was Willard, the retarded boy, who didn’t like to be touched by anyonehe didn’t know. He was Mrs. Dowdy’s grandson and she had taken him to everychurch service I ever been to. His beard was one of wonder, one that could neverbe groomed, due to his erratic violent movements. He sat often in front of meand my family, and I would peer at him and ponder as to what he was thinking,as he moved his head as if flies were all about. He was unique, gray haired at anearly age, with yellow and black teeth that were usually clenched. He had agedeyes that seemed to look beyond this world and into another. I admired him,admired his blood vessels that ran wild, standing out on his arms like markingson a map. I admired his strength for throwing people about when they would tryto place hands on him. He was almost a super hero in slacks, Willard, the retard.Now he was beneath me, dead in a puddle of his own piss, with people dancingabove unbeknownst to his new form. A hand was placed on my shoulder, coming from nowhere, startling me,almost like it was a hand of God himself. It was Brother Rick, dressed in black asalways, holding me, reassuring me. Standing there we looked at poor Willard. “Dear Lord, what in the world was he doing?” Brother Rick said calmly,clenching me close, my elbow at his waist. 29
  34. 34. Staring at Willard, it was a thought, his words, though none of real reason.I was young and knew not a lot, but I knew it wasn’t what Willard was doing,rather what had been done to him. With tears in my eyes waiting to fall, mybody tensed up with every movement of Brother Rick’s big hairy hand, workingits way up my neck, as I looked at the last of my mindless super hero. I thoughtI was special. I thought I was the only one. I thought if I could’ve been Willard,I would’ve been strong enough, mindless enough, to fight back; I wasn’t, andneither was he.  30
  35. 35. To be Unmeasured Cody Williams 31
  36. 36. The Question Cody Jarman This is not a poem nor is it a short story nor a play nor a dance, painting, or sculpture It is present merely to raise the question Just like you or I The universe is wide it is an eternally silent plane but if a being gives a voice to the void is that not meaning enough? 32
  37. 37. Waterland Zachariah Dickson Graphic Design 1930 X 3804 pixelsShowing the fluidity of both ocean creatures and humanity, and our ability to change and warp to the changing of the world. 33
  38. 38. Blooming with Hue Jocelyne Barchet Acrylic Paint 18x24 Showing a full spectrum of color centered on flowers. 34
  39. 39. Looking up the Eiffel at Night Kara Kidwell Digital Photo 4320 x 3240 pixels Showing an angle of the Eiffel Tower that is not normally seen. 35
  40. 40. Abstract Painting Lauren Suiter Acrylic on canvas 11X14An abstract piece that contains no recognizable forms yet depicts an overall happy mood. 36
  41. 41. Center Melanie O’Neil PhotographCapturing the beauty of Mother Nature. 37
  42. 42. Wine Bottle Aaron Burks Charcoal on Paper 18x24A study of still life with light, shadow and tone. 38
  43. 43. Alone at Last Megan Schwab Oil on Canvas 28x 22Endeavoring with oil paints for the first time. 39
  44. 44. Curious Aquarium Jocelyne Barchet Pastels 11x14Representing the curiosity of a young person’s mind. (Notice the child in the bottom-left corner) 40
  45. 45. Nighttime Melanie O’Neil PhotographShowing how bright the world can be at night. 41
  46. 46. Ephemera Brittney ReedI find my pleasure in cheap things meant to be taken offlike the leopard-print slip that slidesover the cleft between thighswith a purring, symphony of zippersmeant to be thrown awaythe books never made for top billing on any shelfpaperbacks born to die kicked under bedspages still sticky with cherry soda and lustto be tossed asidethe thin edge of night and morningwhen another cigarette forever is never the lastand the car tires binge-eat asphaltlike they’re looking for love at the bottom of the cookie jarmade cheap and easythe lucky can buy happiness from gumball machines,find it in lipstick, unicorn pinkglitter stickers on early ‘90s trapper keepersboth trashy and inanearraying selves in junk,building lives out of cast-offs from the bottom of the drawer,lighting blonde Jesus candles while radio starlets gyrateon tarnished silver screensThey wouldn’t call it tacky if it didn’t stick in your heart. 42
  47. 47. Gilt and Crystal at the Louvre Kara Kidwell Digital Photography 4320 x 3240 pixels Showing a chandelier from another angle. 43
  48. 48. A Modern Pyramus and Thisbe Misty DunlapI am having a love affair between the wallsknock once for are you thereknock twice with a long pause in between for I want to kiss youknock three times for reassurance that everything will be okaywe will not wake up in ten years to find we still have nottaken that road trip or won a Nobel Prizewe sleep as close as we can to our shared wallbacks pressed, ribs uncurleda knuckle running against the eggshell white paintas if the color was the soft crook of an elbowwhisper all your fears, regrets, plans, likesI will keep an empty tumbler on my windowsillready to listen 44
  49. 49. Night Sky Dreamscape Jocelyne Barchet Oil paint 18x24 Resembling a dream. 45
  50. 50. Blackhole Sun Zach Johnson Charcoal on Drawing Paper 9x12 Realizing an idea. 46
  51. 51. Rotting Teeth Rachel Hurst His fingers sailed across the decaying teeth, lithe and caressing. Each onegave in to his touch hesitantly, and whispered music between the trees andthe moonlight. Melodies soared into the night, carried on his breath with eachslow exhale. Around him the world hushed. No cry of the birds were heard, nomovement of the wind called. All the sounds of the night fell quiet in the presenceof him and the long forgotten instrument. The stars, as well, took a step back atthe show of his hands’ gentle play. Sour wood permeated the air and foliage spilt forth from its core. The feelof the ruts and scars marred along the keys matched his own on the curve of hislip and those along the delicate lining of her heart. It was an outcast to its owner,just as the girl with shaking hands was to the lover before him. Each groan of anunyielding chord struck him, just as the hardness in her words would. Despiteits quiet beauty, abuse had left its scoring mark on the piano, leaving its spiritbroken for nature to take back into its bosom. No amount of skill would againbeckon its beautiful language. Its love cast away from its owner, just as hisbeloved had been. No, neither the piano nor the girl would sing for him, as theyhad for those that touched them before. But still he would remain. 47
  52. 52. Oil Alexandra Stover Oil painting on canvasBeing striking and complimentary of the colors within it while remaining loose. 48
  53. 53. The Gremlin of All Hallow’s Eve Eli AndersonI tell you now of a beast of oldWho walked the earth with courage bold.Listen close with fervid earAnd lean in close so you may hear.He walked these hills, these plains, these woodsAnd even terrorized our neighborhoods.His figure is ghastly, his spirit you’ll feelAnd his presence alone will make grown men squeal.His long lanky limbs leave no print in the earthAnd he is ghoulishly misshapen for lack of girth.He prowls the night with malice entailAnd he uses the land for his shadowy veil.His hair hangs long from all four limbsAnd cursed be the soul that catches a glimpse.His long ivory claws stay sharp from useAnd from them he learned to deal man abuse.His large sunken eyes can be spotted at night,They’ve been known to emit a ghoulish green light.Do not be fooled, he is no boorish bruteHis mind is as sharp as yours and mine to boot.He is often seen tracing the water’s edgeAnd is occasionally spotted peering from a mountain ledge.We know not where he next will creepBut we know that he can never sleep. 49
  54. 54. Into the Dark Cody Speed Pen and Ink 8x11Facing the darkness and pain is always better with a friend. 50
  55. 55. Should I Do This? Regan WardShould I do this? What if I’m gonna regret this? John’s pale face feels like it isgradually beginning to sizzle under the scrutiny of the sun’s rays. Kate drawshis attention, away from deep thoughts, with the breathless sigh to his right thatbrings goose bumps to every inch of his skin. He is so warm and so cold; he isincredibly confused but also absolutely sure. Her freckled collarbones slowly riseas the small bits of pollen around her face rush to her pink, slender nose. A fewstrands of pumpernickel-colored hair slide elegantly across her high cheekboneand strong jaw line, as she tilts her closed emerald eyes towards him.“What?” she says.“What ‘what’?”“You’re staring at me. You can’t hide it from me anymore, ya know?”“So, you can just sense that now or something?”“Yeah, pretty much. Ever since high school,” she says.“Ah, yes, Arlington High. How you loved that place.”“Oh, hush. It’s not like you were having the time of your life either.”“I started to, senior year.”“Now you’re just sucking up.”“No really. Just like right then; your giggle always made French easier.”“Weren’t you just blessed the only seat open was right in front of you, then?”“Nah, first thing that came to mind was, ‘Ew, freshman.’”“Don’t even pretend. I knew what you were thinking the first day of freshmanyear.”“You’re weird.”“You’re the one staring.”“True.”“So?”“It’s nothing. You just look relaxed is all.”“Wow.” 51
  56. 56. “Huh?”“You suck at lying, even with my eyes closed.”“I thought you were sleeping, so I was going to play a prank on you.”“Really? What prank was that?”“No, I’ll just save it for later,” he says.“You weren’t going to play a prank.”“You can wipe that little smirk off your face, smart butt. I did have a prank.”“Then do it. I still have my eyes closed, don’t I?”“You won’t like it.”“Isn’t that the point of a prank?”“Not my prank.”“Then why don’t you do it?”“Maybe, I will.”“You’re too careful about things. You need to buck up, Mister.”“You pick on me now, but wouldn’t you want any boy to be careful with you?”“I’m not pickin’ too bad. And, of course I would, but you’re different.”“You don’t want me to be careful?”“No, you just aren’t anywhere near normal.”“Aren’t we just a pair then?”“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be. I mean, come on, we’ve known eachother for about seven years now, right? If I haven’t decided by now that I hateyour guts, when will I ever?”“True.”“Seriously, John, I’m only kidding. What is it? You looked like you were about tobe sick… but just now you look like you could up and kiss that frog sitting by thathalf-sunk log over there. What is up with you today?”“I just wanted to ask you something.”“And that’s your prank or…”“Yeah, kind of.”“So, what is it?”“You’re kinda cute, you know that?”“Do what now?”“Will you marry me?” 52
  57. 57. “You are a jerk.”“What?”“You do not ask a girl to marry you as a prank, if you want to live to see themornin’ after.”“Sorry, I didn’t think it would bother you.”“It didn’t.”“Liar.”“Hey, I do have a real question for you, though.”“What’s that?”“Wanna propose to me?” “I just did.”  53
  58. 58. The Companion Diane Shaw Acrylic on Paper 14 x 21Signifying the universal behavior pattern for those who have the ability to be a loyal companion without the need to be self-serving. 54
  59. 59. The Shakes Toshya LeonardAll of the fine ChinaHas been put awaySince the fateful hourGrandpa got the shakes.Grandma took out the TVAnd the garbage too,But judging by her expression,It didn’t do much good.There Grandpa sits talkingTo all of no audience,And all the doctors can prescribeIs a dose of plenty patience.As Grandma’s wrinkles grow,Grandpa’s condition stays the same.The pills; the drugs; the war; the Man;Those are who to blame.He can remember the pastAs clear as the blue sky,And all Grandma can doIs sit back in her rocker and cry.Grandpa hasn’t been his bestSince April of 1965.Grandma is out of mind,But at the same, still alive. 55
  60. 60. Grandpa talks about the bombsAnd when the missiles flew,But ask him about the kids,And he doesn’t have a clue.He still yells into his pillowAnd cannot help but weep.It’s probably been a thousand nightsSince Grandma’s gotten any sleep.It’s not that she doesn’t care;It’s that she cares too much.No offense to God,But her prayers haven’t had luck.Grandma just wants company,For she can’t drink coffee alone,But it would be just as easyTo send Grandpa off to “the home.”Grandma understands that ageIs a force that you can’t fight,And with it comes rage,Which Grandpa fights every night.Grandma still claimsThat Grandpa’s love is there.Even if they are crazy together,It’s a love that they still share.All of the fine ChinaIs still put away,But Grandma remainsWith Grandpa and his shakes. 56
  61. 61. Tilted, Twisted, and Worn Donna Hacker Digital PhotoCapturing the early morning light that is reflecting on this quirky old rugged white picket fence. 57
  62. 62. Family Photographs Belinda Barkerheart falling firstmind scrambling behindsearching for a holdto recapture the snapshotbefore this flash in timefamily photographsnever takenforgotten to be forgottenin the space not yet awake and not yet sleeping even there and even thenthey awake in dreamsof muscles reenacting the slow motionsplummeting down into the darkest roomwhere a stopped heart must remember how to beatand a body so plagued with wearinessleaves a spirit whose brokenness is its only beautyfamily photographsnever displayedforgotten to be forgotten 58
  63. 63. Wonderland Zachariah Dickson Graphic Design 632 X 2616 pixelsGiving the viewer a new reflection beyond the looking glass. 59
  64. 64. Feather Stone Cody Speed Clay/Metal/Feathers 19x22The higher and brighter the feathers, the closer to the spirits you are. Influenced by African masks. 60
  65. 65. Road to Recovery Rocky Holland Russell Russo was a compulsive gambler. Compulsive was a nice way of putting it.Russell needed to feel the exciting rush of betting like a drug addict, needed to feel the high ofpremium heroin. Lady Luck is a bipolar wasp, uncertain, untrustworthy, and ready to strike atany moment. Russell had been in recovery for half a year. It had been six months since his lastpaycheck was blown, his last bill went unpaid and his last relative had cut him off. Russell had stopped at Dave’s Gas and Grubb to fill his tank after work. There appearedto be only one clerk working behind the counter and Russell stood at the end of a long line ofrush hour customers. The clerk was overwhelmed and the customers were becoming agitated.Russell glanced around the store as he waited, and his eyes came to a flashy purple sign withsilver stars, advertising the state lottery. There was a new scratch off game available, Red Hot25’s,and the sign informed him, that he could win twenty-five hundred dollars every week, forlife. He imagined what it would be like to hit that jackpot. He imagined walking into work thenext day and telling his boss to piss off; being able to retire early and spend the rest of his daysrelaxing. He thought of what it would be like to pay off all his loans, the student loans, as wellas, the gambling loans. He could have it all, for just the minor, tiny, insignificant, short-terminvestment of five dollars out of pocket. “Next!” the store clerk said, waking Russell from his daydream. “Pump number three, pack of Marlboro Lights…and a Red Hot 25, please.” Russelltold himself not to feel guilty. It was only five dollars; besides, the money went towards collegescholarships and new roads. All he had done was donate five dollars to a good cause. Thiswas not a big deal. Russell took a quarter from his pocket and began to scratch the lottery ticket. Heabsolutely hated scratching tickets one play at a time; he always scratched the entire ticket all 61
  66. 66. at once and looked for the winning numbers after. Russell’s heart dropped to his stomach, ashe saw a flaming twenty-five appear. He looked across to the prizes: free ticket. Russell wasglad he wasn’t walking away empty handed. It was like he had gotten two tickets for the priceof one, which made the five dollar investment, worth it in his mind. He scratched ticket number two. That one was a bust. Russell discarded the ticket intothe trash. He started to walk out of the convenience store, while thinking: If the odds are one inthree, then one of the next two tickets could possibly have a cash prize, right? Russell bustedon the next two tickets he purchased. Thinking that the roll of tickets was bound to pay off atsome point, now more than ever, he bought two more. “Hot damn!” Russell said, as he finally hit fifteen dollars. “Would you like to keep playing or do you want the cash?” the clerk asked him. Russell heard his next words, as if he were having an out of body experience. Hisconscience was screaming at him from some far off distant land, but it was too late; thewarning had fallen upon deaf ears, and he lost complete control. “I want a Lucky Horseshoe,Outstanding Aces, Quick $50, 10x The Money, Bingo, Cool Dice, Platinum Diamonds, Cent ofCash, Dazzling 7’s, Flaming Cherries, Hot Slots and Crazy Eights.” “Anything else?” the clerk asked, indifferently. “A one dollar quick pick for the Cash 4 evening drawing, any order.” Russell placed hisCash 4 ticket in his wallet, took a seat at the small table in the back of the store and began toscratch. Thirty minutes later Russell heard himself telling the clerk, “This is my last round andthen I’m done.” Fifteen minutes after that, he said, “A few more, then I’ve got to go.” Finally, therush started to wear off and the guilt started to set in. Russell’s conscience had caught up withhim. After two hours, Russell had lost close to two hundred dollars, including the money fromthe handful of times he had won. 62
  67. 67. Russell sat in his Nissan Civic staring at a picture of his wife, Renee, and his threechildren. He kept a photograph of his family taped to his dashboard, his motivation. It had donehim no good, today. He was going to have to go home and tell his wife where the two hundreddollars had gone. He imagined sitting down at the kitchen table, and telling her; which, wouldbe followed by the unbearable conversation that was sure to come after. He could already seethe hurt and disappointment in her eyes, the worst part of it all. That, however, was a situationhe’d had to deal with, time and time again in the past. Tonight, there would be a new one. He’dhave to tell his three sons, that they would not be going to the ballpark this weekend. It wouldhave been his youngest son’s first time seeing a live major league game. It wasn’t unusual for Russell to work late, every so often. His boss wasn’t stingy aboutover-time, during the busy season. He called Renee, to tell her that he’d be coming home late.The lie seemed insignificant, compared to what he’d inevitably be telling her, later that night.His hope was that he could stop off for a night cap first, and stay out just long enough to return,when his boys had gone to bed. He stopped at his usual drinking spot, Tessa’s Bar and Grill. He walked in, loosened histie, took a seat on a small brown leather stool, and noticed a video poker machine, three stoolsdown from him, sitting at the end of the bar. “What the hell,” he said. He fed the machine a dollar and began to play. He didn’t getthe same kind of rush playing the video poker machine, as he got playing the scratch cards;the machine didn’t pay out in anything but points, and if you were lucky, your name on the highscore screen. “Looks like someone’s off the wagon,” said Tessa, as she sat down onto the stool nextto him. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Tess,” he replied. Russell and Renee had gone to college with Tessa. He and Tessa had even datedbriefly. Renee had been Tessa’s roommate, which, was how Russell had initially been 63
  68. 68. introduced to her. Tessa had kept in touch with them since graduation and remained a closefriend of the family. It was in college that Russell first discovered the joys and sorrows of hisgambling addiction. He had taken up sports betting, and it had gotten serious, when he’d losta substantial amount of his student loan. Luckily, Tessa had taken pity on him, and leant himthe money, that allowed him to pay for the expenses of his final semester. Now, all these yearslater, when things went wrong he still went to her and spilled his woes over a cold drink. Tessawas a very caring person, his best friend. “How much are you out?” she asked. “Two,” he said, staring at the video poker game. “That’s not so bad, Russ. At least, it’s not like your trip to Reno.” “Tell that to Renee,” Russell said, as he put another dollar into the machine. “She’s very understanding, Russell. You know that. You’re sick, and you’ve beenworking hard, to overcome this thing. No one’s going to fault you, for a small relapse, thissoon.” “It’s been six months, Tess,” Russell said, looking at her now. “Christ, I was supposedto take my boys to the game tomorrow, and now I have to tell them, we can’t go, because theirdaddy’s a screw up. I picked a hell of a week to relapse.” Russell had tears and frustration inhis eyes. Tessa placed her hand on his shoulder, and said “You’re, not a screw up. You’re,human. You put your pants on, one leg at a time, like the rest of us. Is there anything I can do,to help? Would you like me, to talk to Renee?” “Can you lend me two hundred dollars?” Russell asked. It pained him more thananything, to hit people up for money to cover his gambling losses, but it never stopped himfrom doing it. His pride never mattered, as much as, the shame he felt from not being able toconceal what he’d done, from his family. “Do I really need to answer that?” Tessa said, sounding a little more hostile, than she’dintended. “You know I promised, not to enable you.” 64
  69. 69. “I know. you, and everyone else who matters. How about a rum and Coke then?” Tessa stepped behind the bar and prepared his drink, giving him a double shot of rum,but only charging him regular price. She leaned against the counter and watched the brokengambler play video poker, biting her lip and wanting to do something to help him. An ideapopped into her head, and she grabbed a cocktail napkin and pen. She jotted down a nameand address, and slid the napkin in front of Russell. “What’s this?” he asked. “I’ll make a long story short,” she began. “I let a guy I was dating run up a tab in here,a little over a thousand dollars, and we had a falling out, last month. He never came back topay it. I told him I’d involve the authorities and we agreed to settle it for five hundred. I wassupposed to pick up the money at his place, after work tonight; you do it, and you can keeptwo hundred of it.” “Tessa, no, I…” “You’d be doing me a great favor, Russell. I really don’t want to see him again. This isn’tme enabling you; this is me paying you to do a job. What do you say?” “I don’t know what to say. I promise I’ll repay you.” “Just promise me you’ll stick with the therapy, Russell. You can beat this thing. Iknow you can. You take your boys to the baseball game and have a great time. Remember, they’re depending on you to get well.” Russell thanked her and hurried to his car. Once again he’d been in a bind and Tessahad bailed him out. But he really would pay her back this time, and he was more determinedthan ever, to control his vice. This time, he’d let his addiction hurt not only him and Renee, buthis boys. Russell truly believed he could be better than that. He was going to do right by hisfamily and was going to do right by his overly generous friend. His car came to a stop, in the driveway of 566 Memorial Street. He glanced at thepicture of his family on the dash, as he pulled the napkin from his pocket. The guy’s name 65
  70. 70. was Brian. Russell walked across a gravel driveway, to a white two-story house with a longwooden porch on the front of it. He thought it was a gorgeous place; had a well-kept lawn, twocar garage, garden, and a porch swing. It was a nice little slice of the American dream; likesomething out of a magazine. He rang the doorbell, and a short moment later it was answered by a large, gruff,unshaven man wearing a polo shirt and khaki shorts. The man had anger in his eyes, andRussell wondered for a second if this had been a good idea. Brian was built like a professionalfootball player, and Russell could smell whiskey on his breath. “Who the hell are you?” Brian asked. “I’m a…uh…coworker of Tessa’s. She sent me to pick up the money.” “You work for Tessa?” Brian asked, looking Russell up and down. “That’s right.” “How come I’ve never seen you in there before?” “Just started; got hired on as a floor bouncer,” Russell said, hoping to end this encounterquickly. Brian snickered at Russell and began to laugh at him. “You’re a bouncer? You alwayswear a suit and tie to work?” “When it’s appropriate,” Russell said, feeling foolish now. “So, were you supposed to come over here and rough me up for the rest of the money,Mr. Floor Bouncer?” “Just what was agreed on.” Russell was getting extremely uncomfortable, now. Hethought once or twice of turning around and bolting back to his car. He wished Brian would justshut up and give him the money. “So, you’re here to rough me up, for what was agreed upon?” Good God! Russell thought to himself. The situation was turning ugly fast. “Look, I’mjust here to pick up the five hundred. I’m not looking for any trouble.” 66
  71. 71. Brian stepped closer to Russell, chest to chest with him, staring into his eyes and sizinghim up. Russell tried to look away and was almost sure, he was about to get punched in theface. “Wait here,” Brian said and went back into the house. “Thank you,” Russell muttered under his breath, relieved not to be lying on the ground,with a broken nose. Brain returned to the door, holding a Mossberg 12 gauge pump action shotgun, withpistol grip across his chest. “I don’t know what kind of crap Tessa is trying to pull, but you cantell her, if she wants the money, she can take me to court. Now, get the hell off my porch.” Russell hadn’t even waited for Brain to finish his last sentence, before he’d turnedaround, and sprinted back to his car. When he’d put enough distance between himself andthe house, he pulled off the road and tried to get his breathing under control. He thought fora second, he might have been having a heart attack, but as the adrenalin started to wear off,he caught his breath and calmed his nerves. Russell looked at the picture of his family andslammed his fists onto the steering wheel. He was back to square one. He was going to haveto go home, and tell his wife, he’d lost the money, and tell his boys, that they’d be watching thegame in the living room on the flat screen. And now, he’d messed things up for Tessa, as well.Russell decided to head home, and get it over with. He started the car and turned the volume up on the radio, to try and concentrate onsomething, other than what he was about to face. He caught the tail end of some new rocksong, and as it faded out, the DJ announced, “Up next, we’ll have tonight’s winning lotterynumbers.” Russell suddenly remembered the Cash 4 ticket he’d purchased earlier and quicklydug it out of his wallet. He listened as the DJ read through the Powerball and Cash 3 drawings. “Now for your Cash 4 evening drawing, the numbers are: Three, four, three, and three.” Russell looked at the ticket, and his adrenaline was suddenly pumping, as it had whenthe crazy man had been threatening him, with a shotgun. Lady Luck had stung him, and he 67
  72. 72. could feel the poison entering his veins. The numbers on Russell’s ticket read: 3; 3; 4; and 3.Russell tried to remember the jackpot for three identical digits, in any order. He pulled into the closest gas station, and asked the clerk to tell him what his ticketpaid out. She ran his ticket through the lotto machine, and on the electronic display appeared:WINNER! $1,200! Russell couldn’t believe it. As the clerk handed him back his ticket, he foundhimself, once again tempted by the scratch-offs. He had extra cash now, more than enough fora couple of go-rounds; perhaps, a quick trip to the casino, instead. Russell thought of his family. He thought of his wife, Renee. He remembered his boysand the game tomorrow. He pictured Tessa standing behind the bar, with the sad pitiful lookon her face, and the offer to bail him out, again. He thought of all the people who meantsomething to him, turned around, and walked out of the store. The next day, he would give Tessa one thousand dollars, and tell her Brian had cometo his senses, and decided to settle things evenly. He would take his boys to the ballpark andput the remaining two hundred to use on hotdogs, sodas, and souvenirs. On Tuesday night,the next week, he would go to his gamblers anonymous group therapy session, discuss hisrelapse, and begin his journey once again, on the long road to recovery. 68
  73. 73. Deadly Substance Jocelyne Barchet Charcoal 18x24Looking through the eyes of the artist while sketching. 69
  74. 74. 12:30 Aaron Burks Charcoal on Paper 18x24A study of still life with light, shadow and tone. 70
  75. 75. Please, Professor Kathleen AlfordOh please, professor, please shut up,My head, my brain is stuffed, full up,I know I need to pay attention,But my mind’s gone past all redemption,So please, professor, please shut up.It’s not that I don’t want to learn,It’s not that this class I spurn,It’s just that I’ve my focus lost,And I know not listening will cost,So please, professor, please shut up.I hear you speak, but nothing stays,I know my eyes have got that glaze,I’m sorry I don’t seem to care,About the things you’ve got to share,But please, professor, please shut up.Cut class short, just this once,I feel like such a royal dunce,The others seem to feel the same,Heads ducked low in tired shame,Oh please, professor, please shut up. 71
  76. 76. My hand is cramped, my eyes have crossed,My foot’s asleep and I’m plumb lost,Oh please, oh please, oh please dear prof.,Let us have just an hour off,Please, professor, please shut up.Please professor, don’t be sad,And please don’t let us make you mad,It’s not that we don’t care – we do!We just need some time to renew,So please, professor, just – please shut up. 72
  77. 77. Timeless Kait Scott Timeless Digital PhotographyDocumenting the passage of time. 73