LOVE IMAGES OF
ENDING VIOLENCE YOUTH TO YOUTH Leave Out Violence (LOVE) was created to reduce and help eliminate violence in the lives of youth and their communities by initiating a movement of youth spokespeople who communicate a message of non-violence.
LOVE was started because violence had deeply affected the life of a remarkable woman: Twinkle Rudberg. In 1972, her husband was stabbed to death while trying to help a woman who was being attacked for her purse. To further compound the horror and senselessness of this act, the attacker was a 14 year old boy– who was both homeless and under the influence of drugs. The young boy was a runaway, who recently joined a gang. Clearly this tragedy began long before he took the life of an innocent man.
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WE USE PROTECTION, REGGIE RUSSAW, 21
In response to this tragedy, Twinkle decided something had to be done to help troubled youth like this lost teenager. She wanted to create an organization that would identify and focus on the causes of teen violence â&#x20AC;&#x201C; neglect, isolation, lack of mentorship and domestic abuse. 15 years ago, she created LOVE, which has since grown exponentially. Since its inception, LOVE has become quite a success helping over 30,000 teens with programs from coast to coast in Canada. The trend has found its way to the United States, where LOVE had an impressive launch 5 years ago. With the support of the Department of Education, the NYPD and other prominent New Yorkers LOVE is successfully being implemented in several New York City high schools.
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TRYPTIC, REGGIE RUSSAW, 21
LOVE TRANSFORM VIOLENCE INTO
LOVE PROGRAMS
Leave Out Violence (LOVE) is a photojournalism and writing program that teaches youth the skills necessary to document their perspective on violence and youth culture. LOVE Youth build self-confidence as they discover innate talents, find their voice, develop skills and begin to believe in their potential for success. LOVE makes schools safer, improves student achievements and changes the outlook of the community by creating promise for the future.
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SHADOWS, CAROL TORRES, 15
Can i say miss him after i dissed him want 2 kis him when i didn’t listen He dared me to do it so i did its over now but did i win i did it finished it between me and him but i miss him and i front on myself tellin me that its ok lying to myself saying i can do without him crying to myself saying he don’t love me rewinding myself to get a better picture how i was his miss and he was my mister b’cuz i loved him so much i was concerned thought i was happy but now i learned behind my tears in the back of my mind me breaking up with him i was being kind twas the right thing to do after now i rewind
to his lies his secrets to his strengths that were my weakness how could i forget why should i cry for a liar he helped kill my soul in the killing of my soul he was the supplier his sinister smile i made me tired in my heart i truly admired when you sold me you BS i was your consumer your #1 buyer naive and in love i listened to every word soaked it up like a sponge forgot my value my worth dumb cuz you killed my heart you pulled the plug finally you did it my heart hurts but is done yea its ok now now that i see your lies laid out in front of me your crimes paid off for a minute i was blind but you better back up cuz i dont take nicely to your kind —OLIVIA CAREW, 14
MASKED MURDERER
R
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TEARFUL CONFUSION, KAREN CASIDAD, 16
13
REMEMBER ME AT
Remember that people can be assholes and always looking for a fight. Remember that crappy apartment you lived in with mold on the walls. Remember all the friends who helped you get through that time. Remember that was who you used to be.
Remember me at 16. Remember how much fun you had, moshing to G. O. D. Remember all the shit you want to change. Remember all of the work you have to do to ensure a successful future. Never forget who you are now. Remember me at 25. Remember your successful career, for which you work really hard. Remember your girlfriend, who would never hurt you. Remember the simplicity of your daily life. Remember the man you strive to grow up to be. â&#x20AC;&#x201D;ROBERT FELDMAN, 16
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BONJOUR, JAMILA SMITH, 15
Violence is shooting my friend in the leg. Violence is the sharp pain-not the one our gym teachers tell us about. Violence is sorrow. Violence is revenge. Violence is the eight year-olds trying to hang out with the men doing drug dealing and guns, where I live. Violence is how our ancestors came to New York City. Violence is being ashamed to speak your name. Violence is sometimes girls. Violence is tears coming down flowing through my body. Violence is giving him the hand. Violence is finding comfort in the most unreasonable way Cutting. Violence is tears to help get it out. Violence is hate, the core root of all the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s problems. Violence is all the bad things in this world living under one roof. Violenceâ&#x20AC;Ś ~ COMPILED WITH WORDS FROM THE NEW COMMUNITY OF STUDENTS AT LOVE
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LIFE TREE, CHRIS THOMAS, 21
People say that kids don’t go through shit, That they shouldn’t complain, That they can’t speak out ‘cause us kids don’t know what’s right for us. And you think you do? Is it right that you abuse us Mentally And Physically? Is it right that we can’t come to you? You hush us! But at the same time, you want us to talk to you ‘cause “you will always be there for us when we need you.” Will you tell us it’s ok, That we can be gay
That it’s ok for boys to cry And it’s ok to just ask why? You tell us to get used to not having a say ‘cause that’s life. When we REBEL it’s wrong, But how else can we speak out and tell the world About that stranger beating us every day, abusing his power. I already got used to it. For ten years or more! NOW YOU GET USED TO THIS… You can’t break me. So listen to me when I say “It’s Life get used to it!” —DANIEL FELICIANO
IT’S
LIFE!
B B B B B B B B B B B
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VENDREDI SKATERS, JAMILA SMITH, 15
They say that I sound white when I speak But look on my skin side Yo, I’m black on the outside and Black on the inside I’m from the streets too No rap sheet but I rap sleekly Freshly I release my word off of this chest see The smell of old beer and urine tell Tales of a missed friend The crack vials seems to grow from the pavement The man on the corner seemed to defy gravity While he balanced on his tip toes and leaned forward Backwards on the understanding of Being in chains, Who were are captors? Livin in an invisible prison No understanding of that world we’re all missin I don’t sound like The “around the way” type, So I say “right well You’re a stereo type” I get looks like maybe I was actually talking About types of stereos Oreo they called me My teachers applaud me Some people expected me Other people respected me What is it to be black? Do I have to then be an expectation? Predictable in conversation What does it mean to just be? I like my black tims and hoodies I like my loosey spot on the corner I like my park with the hole in the fence I love my du rag and fitted baseball cap I love being me And I happen to be black. —REGGIE RUSSAW, 21
IN THE CAR DAMN, I WISH I WASN’T HERE . I WISH I WASN’T HERE LISTENING TO MY MOM YELLING. TELLING ME HOW WRONG I AM AND HOW WRONG MY DAD IS. IT HURTS. IT HURTS BECAUSE I LOOK AT MY DAD AS A SUPERHERO.
AND YET SHE SAYS ALL THESE AWFUL THINGS ABOUT HIM. SHE SAYS HE’S NOT THE PERSON I THINK HE IS. OUCH!
DAMN, I WISH I WAS IN THIS OTHER PLACE. WHERE I’M SMILING AND NOT HOLDING BACK TEARS. WHERE I’M CHILLING WITH MY FRIENDS AND NOT HEARING HER MOUTH GO ON… AND ON! I FEAR ONE THING – WHAT IF EVERYTHING SHE SAYS ABOUT ME, MY DAD, AND ME IS TRUE?!
“CAROL ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME!!!!!” FUCK, NO MATTER WHAT I SAY. I’M WRONG…
BREATHE. —CAROL TORRES, 15
LO VE
I am left in this world alone just to drown in my own despair. My whole life I have been waiting, hoping, and wanting someone to come and save me. I’ve called, and reached out but no one was ever there. I have been put down so many times that I have forgotten how to pick myself up againNow here comes LOVE. A great helping hand helping me pick myself up. I never thought that this would ever be possible but here I am surprised, astonished at how much I’ve changed for the better of course. They’ve helped me and continue to do so. Thanks to them I have noticed many qualities which I had but left in the dark since I thought no one cared. Now I know I have a voice in life and that I’m not alone in this world. Thanks LOVE for all the Help, Support and Most of all Your unconditional love. —VICK GOMEZ, 18
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TWO FACED, JAHMERE DALEY, 18
One’s so beautiful The other is evil and cruel. Which one you’ll show today, no one knows. The day is bright & bold So many chances to let your love show But instead, you reveal the side of you that makes me shrink Into a speck of dust Lost within the atmosphere Hiding away until your other face comes near to save me. And make me feel like a person again. I wonder what face you’ll show today. —ANXHELA ZENUNI, 16
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OBSTACLES, SCOTT FRANCHI, 15
Thrusting with quickness Pounding with agony “I love you” he whispers As he grasps the back of me I respond in silence Let the tears mix sweat Endure the violence And leave the bed wet Messed up sheets And half torn pillows Warmth between our bodies My heart is hollow But he’s still inside me Internally I’m lusting And wanting more Getting aggressive But his touch I adored Was I blind or in the mood? I didn’t love him
So there was nothing to lose No one would know Even I could deny I’d keep it on the low And have my head held high Until it didn’t come Back aches and hungry all the time I thought I was done This baby couldn’t be mine I’m a baby myself I couldn’t tell anyone But I needed help Do I get tested or wait a couple weeks I probably miscounted But maybe I’ve leaked No stain not even a spot I pick up the phone and Pressed the green dot “baby I think I’m pregnant”
But he tells me I’m not This isn’t happening Its all a dream I swear Reality can’t be this bad As I shed a tear Lick the salt droplet off my lips Sit on the toilet And give the tester a kiss I hope for the best Wait 7 minutes And it’s a negative Now instead of tears of sorrow There are tears of relief and joy There isn’t a question in my mind of Is it a girl or boy —SAMANTHA VIOTTY, 16
MORE QUESTIONS
&
When you pick up a gun you’re already endangering someone, but they don’t realize that. Gunshots are nothing more than a broken ballad written by god. They say guns don’t kill people, people kill people. But people are just like guns sometimes they can be loaded then fired leaving you mentally, physically and emotionally scarred or dead even. Javy, had to hustle that white to get that glock, I was in the biggest state of shock in my entire life, now she’s fighting for her life. You see, Javy thought he was tough... Javy was blood, threw up the signs for blood, ran his set for blood. But after firing seven shots he froze helplessly when he saw her blood. —JAMILA SMITH, 15
GUNS GUNSHOTS
&
S
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THE LIGHT, VICK GOMEZ, 18
A VIOLENT AWAKENING THIS MORNING I WOKE UP TO THE EMPTY BED BESIDE ME. THE BED THAT IS PRESENT IN EVERY CHILDHOOD MEMORY WE SHARED TOGETHER. THE BED THAT STILL CONTAINS HER WARM AND FAMILIAR SCENT. I AWOKE TO FIND THAT INDEED IT WASN’T JUST A BAD DREAM AND SHE REALLY WASN’T COMING BACK.
IF THE BED COULD SPEAK I IMAGINED IT CRYING
WITH ME, TELLING ME HOW VIOLENCE IS EVIL AND HOW IT HAD ROBBED US FROM THE ONLY THING WE’VE REALLY LOVED IN THIS COLD WORLD. I WOULD TELL HIM THAT I NOW HAD NO ONE TO REMINISCE WITH ABOUT THE MEMORIES OF THE GOOD OLD DAYS WHEN WE WOULD PRETEND WE WERE CHARACTERS FROM OUR FAVORITE CARTOON SHOW OR THE TIME WHEN
WE DECIDED WE WOULD BUILD OUR OWN SECRET PASSAGE WAY THROUGH OUR CLOSET. NO, I AWOKE TO THE COLD
REALIZATION THAT VIOLENCE, SOMETHING I’VE FOUGHT SO HARD AGAINST HAD TAKEN MY LOVELY SISTER.
IT RIPPED HER OF HER LIFE AND DREAMS; SHE NO LONGER HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO EXPERIENCE THE TRUE BEAUTIES OF LIFE. SHE WILL NO LONGER WALK THROUGH THAT DOOR FROM A LONG DAY OF SCHOOL AND LAY ON THAT VACANT BED THAT
HAD COMFORTED HER FOR ALL THESE YEARS.
ALL BECAUSE OF VIOLENCE; THIS PANDEMIC THAT HAS AFFECTED THE LIVES OF BILLIONS AND RUINED THE LIVES OF MANY.
I AWOKE AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME SHE WAS THERE RIGHT NEXT TO ME
I WAS RELIEVED. SOUND ASLEEP AND AS BEAUTIFUL AS EVER IT WAS JUST A HORRIBLE DREAM AND EVERYTHING WAS FINE
THEN I REALIZED THAT THIS WASN’T TRUE FOR THE MANY PEOPLE WHO HAVE LOST A BROTHER OR SISTER BECAUSE OF VIOLENCE; BECAUSE NO ONE EVER THOUGHT THAT MAYBE SHOWING
A LITTLE LOVE COULD KEEP SOMEBODY
OUT THERE ALIVE A LITTLE LONGER. —NOEMI MADERA, 18
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THE ALLEY, REGGIE RUSAW, 21
CLOSE
YOUR EYES THEN OPEN THEM CLOSE YOUR EYES, THEN OPEN THEM.
Has the world become any better? Has a black man, or white woman become president? Has this even made things better, or has it made things worse? Has the mentality of the world shifted from power and greed, to peace and prosperity?
CLOSE YOUR EYES, THEN OPEN THEM.
Do you see through the veil that blinds you? Do you really understand the world around you? Do you see the media powerhouse, sitting above you? Do you feel the tainted needle it controls, piercing through your paper mind?
CLOSE YOUR EYES, THEN OPEN THEM.
Can you feel the pain of the men, women, and children of the Middle East? Can you understand that lives are being taken to heat your home, fuel your car? Can you give up the conveniences, which ultimately cripple you, for the safety of others? Can you stand above the gluttonous populous, and claim your individuality?
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ALONE, DYANA MENDEZ, 15
CLOSE YOUR EYES, THEN OPEN THEM. Is it all gone? Is it all over? Is the nightmare passed? Is it safe to come out now? â&#x20AC;&#x201D;GEORGE PARKER, 17
Revenge, a horrible human impulse, driving people to bad acts, ACTS OF VIOLENCE. Revenge is driven by the mind when it feels that wrong has been left. It’s left pain, hurt and death in the mind. All come from an act of violence. —SCOTT FRANCHI, 16
The friendly faces and familiar places all burned like an aching heart. I visited hell for the course of a year of my life, the year I met myself for the first time. It was somewhere between the violence and the drugs that I realized the issue at hand. It wasn’t my street reputation, or the respect from my boys that was on the line, it was my soul The demon faces surrounded me constantly, grinning and laughing, tempting me Do it, just do it, c’mon, just do it! Was a little street credit and respect worth my life? Far to many have paid for respect with blood and pain. Too many times I was putting my reputation along side with my freedom... Freedom or respect, how could I decide? The devil himself delivered the contract sheet, wanting me to sign the dotted line with blood. I refused. I refused and returned the contract with a smile I knew the time had come for a change, MY SOUL IS NOT FOR SALE. —CHRIS QUINONES, 19
MY SOUL IS NOT FOR SALE
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EMACIATED JAHMERE DALEY, 18
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TOO FAR, CHRIS QUINONES, 19
I am a singer without a voice An artist without passion I am a reader who is blind And who yells out caution I am your daughter and current slave I am your sister who is in pain I am a victim of your perverted ways And thatâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s why things will never be the same I am a stranger in current danger But trust me, I will never surrender Now I may be all of these things But I am still unclear to me I can sit here all day saying, I am, I am, I am, But my question will still remain Who Am I? â&#x20AC;&#x201D;VICK GOMEZ, 18
WHO AM I?
SCHOOL SHOOTINGS. School shootings are nothing new to students of our generation. We’ve lived through tragic violence committed by our peers in places like Virginia Tech and at Dawson College. In fact these incidents have become so commonplace, we forget about each murder spree days after it happens. Within months, another school shooter and his/her victims grab the news headlines, only to be forgotten as the cycle continues. It may no longer be a surprise that kids have access to guns and that they can and will kill other kids, but it’s a shock that adults and newsmakers keep looking the other way. It’s been reported that the youth who were behind these school shootings were outcasts within their schools and communities, mistreated and often belittled by their peers. The way the perpetrator acted or dressed often gets magnified and labeled as “strange,” as onlookers continue to make an outsider of the youth. Parents point blame at celebrities such as shock rocker Marilyn Manson. Manson’s controversial songs are seen as the root of the problem, and the explanation as to why the student shot a gun on campus. The fact they were fans of his or any other personality like him does not mean anything, especially since most of these rockers do not condone this violence. It’s time that we stop looking for someone or something to blame. We have to come to terms with the fact that no matter what school you go to or what grade you’re in students will always haze and pick on one another. Some parents may think they are doing a good job, when in reality they may just be ignoring us all together. Ignoring us gives us the feeling that we can do what we want - when we want. Others who think we are nothing more than just overactive-horny teenagers belittle us, and it is that belittling that opens up the chance for another school shooting. Personally, I know it’s not easy being a young adult in this age where expectations continue to rise as more and more changes continue to happen, leaving us to survive the times as best we can. So instead of blaming anything or ignoring us or just teaching us to survive, programs like LOVE try to turn it into something positive. The PhotoJournalism Program within LOVE establishes the groundwork for us to open up and feel comfortable in our own shoes. Through the writing we do and through the photos we take whatever pent up emotion we have is let loose and spread out across different canvases. Being there with other people offers different perspectives on your own ideas and opens up your mind to other peers’ ideas. Then the Leadership program builds on all of that and gives you the confidence to speak your mind outside of LOVE and show people you do have a voice and that it is important. The students and subsequent shooters at Columbine High School, Dawson College and Virginia Tech may have needed some place just like this. They needed people who would listen to them and not shove them aside. They needed people to give them the opportunity speak and be heard. LOVE has been there providing an ear to those who need it, while empowering them to do much more. —ERNESTO VALVERDE, 19
3.6.08
PSYCHE OF A SCHOOL SHOOTER: COMMUNAL POEM CREATED IN LEADERSHIP WORKSHOP 3-6-08 Unpredictably snapping into a personal assassin, An injustice that could have been preventable, Never thought I’d stare down the barrel of a gun. It would be crazy to make a problem for no reason. But around me there’s only black because these people don’t care about me. As I hold my breath and plunge into the abyss, A lost soul, Still no one notices. The confusion and anger sets in.
Why does this keep happening? We must answer these questions now.
A permanent solution to a temporary problem. A permanent tragic finality. Chaos in my head And chaos in the hallways. Was there a warning?
My life is misconstrued, my Soul gives other’s fright, Like a night sky with no Stars in sight. I heal in the dark I hurt in the light I fight for what’s wrong I fight for what’s right I fight for love I fight for hate I glow I fly I live I die My world is filled with nothing but black skies. Every day when I look around I see my demons rise giving me a bitter and twisted mix of Emotions inside. This is the gloomy essence of a broken lullaby. —JAMILA SMITH, 15
THE ESSENCE OF A BROKEN LULLABY >>>
I’M SORRY CHRIS QUINONES, 19
E
THANKSGIVING DINNER I know you guys want to kill each other right now, and that your family is the last thing you’re thankful for… but its one of the only things I’m thankful for. So can’t we all just accept each other for one night… on one of the only nights that we are together? Diana so what if your son married a German? Do you see a Holocaust right now? NO… so then why is it so hard to deal with the German side of your family? If the Jews and Germans came to peace over a whole war, why can’t you come to peace over five people?
And Bob, how can you sit here listening to people tell you that you’re going to die soon? They’ve been saying this for five years and here you are sitting there, quiet and solemn.
Dad, you probably thought that making fun of your children was funny but now look at your family making fun of you. Telling you that you’re gonna get diabetes, you’re gonna die from smoking, and you’re OD’ing on your prescription drugs.
Mami, look at you sitting there with excuses running through your head of how to get out of eating this gigantic meal. Letting your disorder replay itself.
Hana, roll up your sleeves sis. Show them your tattoo of the whole cyclone, tell them how much you love your girlfriend, tell them that you accept your body and they should too. Alex, don’t let them force you to speak English. Let that Spanish roll off your tongue. You learned English so they should put in the same effort to learn Spanish. Te amotio! (PAUSE) Happy Thanksgiving…. —GRETA QUINN, 14
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DANGER, SCOTT FRANCHI, 16
CHA NGE YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO CHANGE SOMETHING. YOU WERE LIVING A LIFE OF CRIME, NOW YOU’RE HAVING A CHANGE OF HEART. START TELLING YOUR STORY. OF RACES KILLING OFF OTHER RACES, GOING CRAZY OVER YOUR EMOTIONS,
GOING OUT INTO THE REAL WORLD, KNOWING TOO MUCH AND NOT TOO LITTLE, SEEING THE LIGHT BEFORE IT’S YOUR TIME, OF THE FAMILY MEMBER THAT WAS TAKEN AWAY AND THAT ALL YOU DID WAS CRY FOR HIM. OF HOW YOU WERE LEFT THINKING IT’S
ALL YOUR FAULT. KNOW THAT FALLING IN LOVE HURTS SOMETIMES BUT HAVING A BROKEN HEART HURTS EVEN MORE. YOU STILL HAVE A CHANCE TO CHANGE SOMETHING. — KEISHA DUNCAN, 15
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UNTITLED, DANIEL FELICIANO
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SEPTEMBER SKATE, JAMILA SMITH, 15
( ) NO NAME So many words stinging the tip of her tongue so many thoughts slipping her mind so many feelings lost in the rapid heartbeat her chest gets tight it’s getting so much harder to breathe swallows hard and smiles and that smile is the hardest thing she will ever do the battles she’s fought the tears she’s dropped the healing wounds scars remain let go release and as she pushes her into his arms she smiles, and that smile is the hardest thing she will ever do —DARIA FANTACI, 16
I told myself I wouldn’t cry because tears tell the story of a sinner and my story is to be left untold. So I reversed my tears and cried on the inside. I painted a smile on my face so no one would know the truth. Looking in the mirror, it was no longer
myself who I saw. It was no longer MY reflection but a distorted perception of who everyone else wanted me to be. I was pacing through life while death was running behind me Death turned my innocent whispers into thunderous screams and LOVE turned my screams into art.
TURNED MY PAIN INTO
I no longer had to hide from what I was feeling I no longer had to hide from myself. Step by Step I began to rebuild mind while stitching up the tears in my heart. It was LOVE that healed my soul and turned my pain into art. —MORGAN JONES, 18
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COMICS, DYANA MEDNES, 15
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THE END OF THE WORLD, DYANA MEDEZ, 15
TODAY I HAD AN IMMORAL THOUGHT I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT…
TODAY I SAW INTO THE DARKNESS OF MY SOUL I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I NOTICED THE GLITCHES OF MY SKIN I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I FELL IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER SIN I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I DROWNED IN A RIVER OF PAIN I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I DOUBTED MY RELIGION AND FAITH I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I LIED WITH THE LEAST OF REGRETS I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I CUT MYSELF INTO TINY LITTLE SHREDS I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I FELT LIKE A LOST BOAT IN THE TURBULENT SEA I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… TODAY I BUILT AN IMAGINARY WORLD FOR ONLY ME TO SEE
I’M SORRY I CAN’T BE PERFECT… —ELIZABETH MADERA, 18
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SELF, JAMILA SMITH, 15
LOVE THE WORLD NEEDS NOW MORE THAN EVER.
TONI SCHULMAN
IS A PROUD SUPPORTER OF LOVE AND ITS MISSION TO END YOUTH VIOLENCE
The Board of Directors, Partners and Management of
MDC Partners wish to pay tribute to
Miles S. Nadal and his Family Miles Nadal and MDC Partners are proud to assist LOVE in their efforts to help the youth of NYC in their quest to end violence.
for this well-deserved and prestigious award as the
JNF Toronto 2007 Negev Dinner Honouree
Where Great Talent Lives
(AZELTON !VENUE 4ORONTO /. - 2 % s 4EL s &AX 4HIRD !VENUE TH &LOOR .EW 9ORK .9 s 4EL s &AX
!
THANKS! LYN HUGHES
FOR CONTRIBUTING YOUR TALENTS TO THE IMAGES OF LOVE AUCTION
DAVID MANCINI, LE BERNARDIN TOM HUBBARD, HEWLETT PACKARD
GABE GREENBERG, GREENBERG EDITIONS
CAROL FONDÉ, LTD., EXHIBITION COLOR PRINTING PETER BERBERIAN, GOTHAM IMAGING
RICK WESTER / THOMAS PRETI CATERERS / DIAGEO
VINO ITALIAN WINES/I TRULLI/CENTOVINI / GREG RATHE, THE DISPLAYERS REID CALLANAN, SANTA FE WORKSHOPS / IAN GINSBERG C.O. BIGELOW MEG COHEN DESIGN / SUPERMARCHÉ
HUGE THANK YOU TO ALL THE PHOTOGRAPHERS WHO DONATED THEIR WORK TO OUR MAJOR DONORS JUDY CARMEL THE CATALOG FOR GIVING MARIENNE HILL-TREADWAY, GAP INC CLAUDIA GLENN BARASCH AND SHELLY HIRSHON THE LADY LIBERTY RIDE THE LOTOS FOUNDATION PETER ISAACSON ADOBE SYSTEMS TOM MORAN, MUTUAL OF AMERICA THE NICOLE SCHIFFMAN FOUNDATION CAMP SPONSOR: NETJETS
LOVE U.S. Board of Directors Twinkle Rudberg, M.S.M Founder Barbara Goldstein, Chairman Emeritus HONORARY PATRONS LOVE U.S. Richard Kirshenbaum Dr. Isadore Rosenfeld Avram Westin Mortimer Zuckerman U.S. BOARD OF DIRECTORS Linda Thibodeau President Claudia Glenn Barasch EVP Jill Armus Audrey S. Amdursky Tom Guarriello Marienne Hill-Treadway Sheldon Hirshon ESQ Henry Joost Carolyn Kessler Leslie Kirschenbaum Amy Limb Lisa Mirchin Holly Newman Peter Orengo Mitch Reiter Lawrence D. Rose Toni Schulman Ariel Schulman Yaniv Schulman Mickey Sumner Romi Swidler-Howard Steve Thibodeau Alexa Isbell-Wolman
LOVE STAFF: Mark Ferreira, Program Director Deborah Gopstein, Program Coordinator CONTACT LOVE: Leave Out Violence 64 Fulton Street Suite 801 New York, NY 10038 212-608-7070 WEBSITE: www.leaveoutviolence-us.org EMAIL: love@leaveoutviolence-us.org AUCTION COMMITTEE Jill Armus, Chair Helen Cannavale Barbara Reyes Sarah Rozen Jessica Sokol Amy Rosenfeld HOST COMMITTEE Lisa Mirchin, Chair Daniel Cohen Grace MFP dos Santos Marla Maples Anne Fahey Storment