2020 BFA EXHIBITION Institute of Art and Design at New England College
DO WHAT YOU LOVE
LOVE WHAT YOU DO
2020 BFA EXHIBITION Institute of Art and Design at New England College
Photo courtesy of Shannon Pelletier
Gregory Adekomaya Cathleen Azuma Lauren Boisvert Joel Bowman Cindi Chagaris Dillon Clark Lexi Consentino Jillian Day Brian Demars Kai DeViller Lauren Duvall Carina Furino Ashtyn Godbois Sylvia Holleran Luke Hunt Erin Johnson Amelia Kester Anushka Koirala Madison Lavalley Marissa Lussos
Xavier Maurice Rebekah McCue Alecsander McInnis Paige Monast Crow Montani Sierra Petros Marissa Petruzzelli Angelia Hollenbach Rachel Roberts Mikaela Russell Jaime Serrano Jessalyn Silveira Emmitt Sourdif Emily Sousa Sam Svensson Aaron Sweeney Emily Thompson Marianna Tremblay Sam Verdisco Adriana Zulueta
GREGORY ADEKOMAYA JR As a digital designer, I focus strongly on conceptual design and working in a specific field of skills. I have always been interested in creating graphic design using various graphic programs such as Adobe Creative Suite. I believe that art is about communication and making connections between people. I believe that diversity is very important for an artist and the corporate economy. My artwork is targeted towards marketing and advertising for clients. My capabilities include an awareness of global design so when I work with clients in other countries I can design artwork that communicates their global message reflective of their cultures. I will be using my skills in UX and UI design as I offer innovation, motivation, and attention to detail with my unique perspective to the world of design.
I’M A DESIGNER
gadekomaya@gmail.com
gregadesign.crevado.com
Running Man, Digital, 2020
facebook.com/greg.adekomaya.5
Soda Design, Digital, 2020
Design NH Logo, Digital, 2020
African Mask, Digital, 2020
Victory Park App, Digital, 2020
Pizza Web Design, Digital, 2020
SYLVIA C. H. ALFORD Sylvia C. H. Alford is an illustrator with a passion for adventure and fantasy. She finds humour wherever there is opportunity for wordplay and has developed a whimsical style in linework and watercolor. The Isolated Princess tells the story of a girl who is alone and numb after escaping a siege on her childhood home. She finds someone who can help process the experience and build her up before finishing their own story and letting her find her own destiny. “This story is written from my own experiences as someone who would not be vulnerable for a long time. I took this opportunity to express the pain of feeling alone, the release of finding a listening ear, and the importance of emotional support to a sense of confidence.”
Storybook Invitation, Watercolor, Ink, 6.5” x 9.5”, 2020
sylviaalford.art@gmail.com
sylviaalfordart.wixsite.com/portfolio
@sylviaalford.art
Safety Stolen, Ink, Digital, 11” x 14”, 2020
Caged Bird, Ink, Digital, 11” x 14”, 2020
Greetings From NH , Watercolor, Digital, 6.5” x 9.5”, 2020
Safety Stolen, Ink, Digital, 11” x 14”, 2020
Wine Rush, Watercolor, Digital, 12” x 16”, 2019
CATHLEEN AZUMA As an illustrator, I love to paint in gouache, but also have found an affinity for digital illustration and graphic design. These processes together contribute to my current style as a graphic artist. My senior studio project is a series of paintings focused on various animals who are unfortunately threatened by environmental changes. The wildlife portrayed hold gemstone attributes within their features. Around the world, precious gemstones are preserved, protected, and taken care of. Shouldn’t that be the same for all animal species, especially those endangered? Threatened animals should also be protected, treasured, and preserved in their natural habitat. While spreading this important message through my illustrations, I want to do what I can to contribute to the cause: 25% of each piece will be donated to the Defenders of Wildlife; a trusted nonprofit organization that is dedicated to protecting “all native animals and plants in their natural communities.
catieazumadesigns@gmail.com
Ocean Jasper, Acrylic Gouache, Digital, 16” x 20”, 2020
ENDANGERED SPECIES catiedesigns.com
@catiedesigns
Above: Tiger’s Eye, Acrylic Gouache, Digital, 16” x 20”, 2020 Right: Pietersite, Acrylic Gouache, Digital, 16” x 20”, 2020
Above: Lapis Lazuli, Acrylic Gouache, Digital, 16” x 20”, 2020 Left: Amber, Acrylic Gouache, Digital, 16” x 20”, 2020
Above: Fairburn Agate, Acrylic Gouache, Digital, 16” x 20”, 2020 Left: Aquamarine, Acrylic Gouache, Digital, 16” x 20”, 2020
LAUREN BOISVERT The process of creating these painted patterns involves an acrylic underpainting topped with oil paints. From there, the painting is digitized to be edited and embellished to be put onto commercialized products such as mugs, notebooks, pillows, and tote bags. Influenced by the brand of Anthropologie, how their shop’s displays are art in themselves; but also, their support of the arts being turned into not only clothes but bedding, household items, etc. Artistic influences include Elizabeth Olwen, Annie Quigley, Teil Duncan, and Jessica Watts. In deciding how to compose these patterns, a great deal of research into flowers was considered specifically that a certain flower triggers a memory. Such as a daisy in the summertime, enjoying the hours of outside carefree play. In addition, the meanings of the flowers were explored to pair particular color palettes and flowers to express a feeling during a certain time. Self Portrait, Photograph, 2020
laurenboisvertart@gmail.com
laurenboisvertart@gmail.com
@laurenboisvertartist
Poppy, Mixed Media, 8”x10”, 2020
Clematis, Mixed Media, 8”x10”, 2019
Camellia & Dahlia,Mixed Media,8”x10”,2020
Pansies, Mixed Media, 8”x10”, 2019
Rhodendren, Mixed Media, 8”x10”, 2020
Echinacea, Mixed Media, 8”x10”, 2019
JOEL BOWMAN New Hampshire’s history is rife with stories of natives and settlers. Some of these stories are more well-known than others but all are important to the establishment of our state. This ongoing photo project attempts to bring light to some of the lesser known pieces of history while simultaneously exploring the practice of studio style portraiture. Joel Bowman uses his large format film camera as a way to meet new and interesting people and learn their stories.
First image: Boy with Banana Earbud, Large Format Film Photography, 8” x 10”, 2019 Second: Ste Marie Parish, 32” x 40”, Digital Print, 2020 Third: Father Moe, 16” x 20”, Digital Print, 2020
@jb_imagemaker
jbowmanimages.myportfolio.com
bowmanj603@gmail.com
STE MARIE PARISH In 1763, the French speaking Catholics of Quebec had been forced to vacate their language and religion after a royal proclamation by British King George III. This forced many Canadian French Catholics to find refuge in the United States. Manchester and its thriving mills became a favored destination for settlement. In 1880, to accommodate the growing population of mill workers and their catholic families, Bishop Healy assigned Father David Joseph Halde to build a parish on the west side of Manchester. In 1882, Father Pierre Hevey was appointed by Bishop Healy to replace father Halde. Over the next 17 years, he oversaw the fundraising and coordination of the growth of the mill community. His ambition and vision were directly involved in establishing many buildings and businesses that helped Manchester and the mill community. These included St. Mary’s Bank, Salle D’Asile on Cartier Street to house orphans and senior citizens, Notre Dame Hospital (currently CMC), the Note Dame Orphanage for girls, Saint Peter’s Orphanage for boys, residence for the Marist Brothers (currently Joseph House), and many more. Today, Father Maurice Larochelle, aka Father Moe, carries the torch as the eleventh Pastor of Ste Marie Parish. He has found time in his busy schedule to sit in one of the ornately carved chairs from the altar, to pose for his portrait.
CINDI ROSE CHAGARIS I am currently focusing on studying the art of natural science within the local environment. The subject I have chosen for recent work is natural science in the New Hampshire landscape. My recent work is a series of oil paintings of observational landscape. I am striving for an accurate representation express to what I see in the complexity of color, shape, and form found in nature’s renewing cycles of life. I aim to relay how landscape scenes in New Hampshire’s White Mountain National Forest are full of life and have spirit renewing qualities.
Sugar Hill Lupines, NH, Oil on canvas, 18” x 24”
NEW HAMPSHIRE WHITE MOUNTAINS
rosaliafineart.com
rosaliafineart@comcast.net
Left: Pemigewasset River, NH in Summer, Oil on canvas, 18” x 24” Right: Pemigewasset River, NH in Winter, Oil on canvas, 16” x 20”
Rock’s Estate, Bethlehem NH, Oil on canvas. 24” x 30”
The Basin, Franconia Notch, NH, 24” x 30”
DILLON CLARK Part graphic designer, part digital illustrator, part carbohydrate enthusiast, Dillon Clark has been working with virtual art and design since experimenting as a child on MS paint. Aesthetically inspired by modern French illustrators, he uses bold color, plays with negative space, and draws on the pop art and op art movements to craft a variety of both vector and raster works. As a designer, Dillon’s focus lies in branding and packaging design; his illustration works mainly discuss ideals of feminine beauty with a twist. If you need to find him, locate the closest computer with access to Adobe Illustrator and chances are you can find some tracks of his to follow. A Whole ‘Lotl Love, Raster and Vector Illustration, 11” x 17”, 2019
dillonclarkvisuals@gmail.com
@dillonclarkvisuals
Soda!, 3D Render and Vector, 2016
Qui, Moi?, Vector Illustration, 11” x 17”, 2020
Tea Time, Vector Illustration, 11” x 17”, 2019
Itsy Bitsy, Vector Illustration, 11” x 17”, 2019
L’odalisque, Vector Illustration, 11” x 17”, 2019
LEXI CONSENTINO I collected various things as a child, such as coins, CDs, and stones. Anything that stood out was stored in a box. From time to time I evaluated what I saved. I collected things in hopes of recognizing myself in them. I journaled often about how I was feeling, whether it was mundane or difficult. My experiences had to be written down. The combination of journaling and collecting developed into my work. I collect different things now, and with practice came the development of intention. As a book artist, my layouts are filled with both important and ordinary things I’ve saved. Found objects and photographs support my combination of digital and analog media. Together, they carry narratives about my identity, relationships, and empowerment. Where do you find your reflections? Do you recognize yourself?
lexiconsentino.com
Untitled, Gary Consentino, 35mm Film, 2001
STELLIUM
lexiconsentino@gmail.com
@lexiconsentino
Stellium, Visual Book, 2020
Excerpt from Stellium, Pages 54-57
JILLIAN DAY Cindy Sherman (American, b. 1954) is widely recognized as one of the most important and influential artists in contemporary art. Throughout her career, she has presented a sustained, eloquent, and provocative exploration of the construction of contemporary identity and the nature of representation, drawn from the unlimited supply of images from movies, TV, magazines, the Internet, and art history. Working as her own model for more than 30 years, Sherman has captured herself in a range of guises and personas which are at turns amusing and disturbing, distasteful and affecting. To create her photographs, she assumes multiple roles of photographer, model, makeup artist, hairdresser, stylist, and wardrobe mistress. With an arsenal of wigs, costumes, makeup, prosthetics, and props, Sherman has deftly altered her physique and surroundings to create a myriad of intriguing tableaus and characters, from screen siren to clown to aging socialite.
cindysherman.com
Name of piece, medium, size
UNTITLED FILM STILLS
hello@cindysherman.com
@csherman
BRIAN DEMARS In each chapter, the reader is taken into the complex life of a frustrated photographer, Tim (Fang). Not only is he trying gain a foothold in the art world, Tim is trying to navigate two worlds—the goth subculture that defined much of his past and the sometimes stifling normalcy of being a wedding photographer tasked with keeping his grandfather’s photo studio afloat. But then enters Amelia (Raven), a teacher and painter. Through their shared experiences of feeling marginalized in a cookie–cutter world and finding a necessary escape in art, they begin to form a bond that, eventually, turns into a genuine love story. Seen through the lens of a photographer and the brushstrokes of a painter, Tim and Amelia uncover their true selves as they collaborate in the creation of art and build the foundation of a lasting relationship.
HEARTBROKEN AT THE CEMETERY BY BRIAN DEMARS
bdemars63@gmail.com
@briandemars9
Excerpt from Heartbroken at The Cemetery headed back out to the patio, carefully walking around “ Iaimless patrons engaged in conversation. Looking
around, I noticed my friends had already left. I sat at an open bench, lighting another clove. Would the new endeavor be worth it or not? Was there more notoriety by doing model shoots? I had the talent, and equipment, but could I afford to pay them at that moment with the rent coming up? A tall woman wearing a sleeveless black dress wandered through the clusters of patrons. She cupped a glass of red wine in her right hand. One careless person almost bumped her with his elbow. Sidestepping, she made her way around two people lost in conversation, crossing her arms like a mummy King Tut’s sarcophagus. She turned in my direction with hesitation, our eyes met. She paused, then glanced away for a moment as if searching for someone. The spot on the bench where I sat was vacant. She took a breath before approaching. Her eyes were unique, the left was hazel, the right green. Her narrow face was linear with her short black bob haircut. Her septum and lip were pierced. She towered over me like a redwood tree.
“May I have a seat? There’s too many people for my liking around,” she said. “Sure,” I replied, taking a drag from my clove. She sat next to me, took a deep breath and gave me an awkward smile. Sipping from the wine, her lipstick left a red print on the rim of the glass. She crossed her fishnet–clad legs, straightened her posture. “Say, I hate to ask, but can I bum one of those?” she asked, eyeing my clove. I looked around the patio. There were plenty of other people smoking. I didn’t understand why she was approaching me out of all of them. She was way too attractive to want anything to do with the likes of me. I was as scrawny as a burnt–out matchstick, long– haired, and had a beard like a rogue marooned by his mates at sea. Handing her the pack she drew one with long narrow fingers, her nails painted black and manicured to sharp points resembling talons. On her inner right wrist was a tattoo of a raven sitting on a branch. “Perched and sat and nothing more” was written in cursive underneath the bird. “Thank you,” she replied. “It’s been forever since I’ve smoked one.”
“Did you quit?” I asked. “I used to smoke regularly, but when I started teaching, I cut down,” she replied. “What subject do you teach? English? Math? Theater?” I asked. “None of the above, middle school art. I have a dual degree in fine arts and art education,” she said. “I’m an artist myself. Photography is my medium and I own a studio downtown. I’m Fang, by the way,” I said, extending my hand. “Raven. It’s a pleasure,” she replied, taking it. “What do you like to paint?” I asked. She took out her phone, tucked the clove to the corner of her mouth, and pulled up an image of a hawk holding a heart in its talons. The sky in the background was a blending of grey and black, with shards of broken glass and razor blades raining down. I squinted at the details. “What’s the title?” I asked. “Huh? Oh, it’s called Hawk Saving Heart From Breaking. I like to paint surreal works,” she said with a nod.
“Are you inspired by Salvador Dali? Or Man Ray?” I asked. “I have respect for Dali, his color schemes and figures stand out on the canvas. My inspiration comes from H.R. Giger, Frida Kahlo, and Dorothea Tanning. Have you heard of any of them?” She exaggerated the word “artist” pronouncing it “ahhtists,” as if with a Boston accent. Yet, there wasn’t a harshness, like the way Bostonians spoke. There was a softness of being raised in a proper atmosphere. “I think I have?” I said, scratching my chin. Raven raised her eyebrows, then glanced back to her phone. She pulled up an image of a hammer– headed alien. “Why does that look familiar?” I asked. “If you’ve seen the Alien movies with Sigourney Weaver, this is the artwork that inspired the creation of those creatures,” Raven said. “Giger is the artist who painted them. “Okay, yeah, I never knew that,” I said. Raven continued to scroll through her phone. She showed me a picture of a painting. The female figure
had her spinal column exposed, yet instead of being the color of bone, it was steel.
“Uh, it was because of …” she paused. “Let me see some of your photography.”
“This is The Broken Column by Frida Kahlo. Her figure painting and style is an inspiration for my own,” she said.
She was clearly hiding whatever had been the inspiration, which was understandable since we had just met. Yet, in the back of my mind, I pondered if heartbreak had been the motivation to compose that dark piece. Or perhaps some other dark event in her life. I made a mental note that one common theme in her art was birds, including the tattoo on her wrist. I took out my own phone and showed her an image of a glass being shattered in black and white.
Raven scrunched her lips as she scrolled through Google, pulled up a painting of a nude woman sitting with her back exposed. Two ravens sat on either side with black cord in their beaks, sewing up wounds of where wings had been. Scarlet lines of blood trickled from the wounds. The figure centered in the middle of the canvas floated amongst the clouds. “Wow, this is amazing. I admire the colors, especially the blood,” I said. “Thank you. It’s part of a fallen angel series I did a long time ago. It took a couple of years to finish the entire thing,” she replied, flicking an ash. “What was the inspiration?” I asked. Raven took a deep breath, pushing her lip ring back and forth. She shuffled on the bench and took a sip from her wine.
Raven squinted at the screen while taking a drag from her clove. “I like the breaking glass. You caught the shattering beautifully.” “Thanks, my friend Blaze and I had to drop god knows how many bottles to get this shot. I placed the camera on the ground with him standing over it. We made a hell of a mess.” I showed her another picture, this one capturing a cemetery in winter. The slate stones were sticking up through the deep snow as the wind blew around the falling flakes.
“
“May I see one of your inspired works?” I asked.
KAI DEVILLER Kai DeViller, is an illustrator based in New England. The artist grew up in Tewksbury, Massachusetts with their parents, sister, grandparents, and a few pets. When they’re not in the studio drawing, they’re usually doing something else creative. Their hobbies consist of embroidery, sewing, and playing with Makeup. Kai has been making cards for their friends and family their entire life. The artist found that it was only fitting that for their senior illustration project they create a series of greeting cards. Kai wanted to make five birthday cards and five holiday cards. Kai’s cards can be for any age. However, the series on display is catered more to children. For this body of work, the artist wanted to play with fun and whimsical colors and a variety of original character designs. Kai’s senior project also challenged them to figure out fun ways to use hand lettering, a device commonly used in the greeting card/licensing industry. The artist hopes that her card designs will invoke feelings of happiness, making people smile. Dino Card, Digital, 5” X 7”, 2019
kaideviller@outlook.com
kaideviller.weebly.com
@kai_deviller
Mermaid Card, Digital, 5” x 7”, 2019
Mermaid, Digital, 8.5” x 11”, 2020
Halloween Card, Digital, 5” x 7”, 2019
Christmas Card, Digital, 5” x 7”, 2019
Potato Fact, Digital, 11” x 17”, 2020
LAUREN DUVALL
Then one day, I found a style that I was excited to work with. The style I found was highly inspired by the animation series Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure. The art in the show focused more on flat shapes rather than the use of linework. This dynamic approach helped me find my own way of working. After graduation, I plan on pursuing a career as a children’s book illustrator. My love of nature and fantasy has always inspired my work. I hope to bring my interests to the books I illustrate, inspiring children to go outside and use their imagination to create their own fantastic adventures.
@laurelsketches_
Self Portrait, Digital, 7” x 12”, 2020
I used to have the mindset that I should try to make my work look like something that would be displayed in a museum. However, it never really felt like that was where I truly wanted my art to go. So, I tried experimenting with a number of different styles. I sometimes felt lost when seeking my personal voice.
laurensketches.com
laurelsketches@gmail.com
Hansel and Gretel, Digital, 22” x 8”, 2019
Cartographer’s Daughter Cover, Digital, 12.5” x 18.5”, 2019
Wine Piece, Digital, 12” x 16”, 2019
Twelve Dancing Princesses Cover, Digital, 17� x 11�, 2020
CARINA FURINO Carina Furino is a photographer from Greenland, New Hampshire. In Eat It - It’s Good For You, she uses photography to explore the relationship between food, social norms, perception and herself. Carina has been dealing with the topic and notions of eating disorders on a personal level for years. For her thesis work she addresses it through art in order to expand the topical conversation. Using common raw foods and tools, Carina strives to engage the viewer and have one understand the disgust and anxiety that the artist experiences in relation to food.
Crunch, Photography, 11x16, 2020
EAT IT - IT’S GOOD FOR YOU
cfurino_ug@nec.edu
Skin, Photography, 16x8, 2020
Grapes, Photography, 11x15, 2019
Bite, Photography, 11x16, 2019
Squash, Photography, 16x11, 2019
ASHTYN GODBOIS Ashtyn Godbois is a New Hampshire based illustrator. In 2020, she graduated with her BFA from the Institute of Art and Design at New England College. Ashtyn’s grandmother introduced her to the world of art at a young age. She began her formal studies in art as a freshman in high school. She quickly realized that she wanted to pursue a career as a professional artist. Ashtyn plans to make a career in editorial illustration. A digital artist, she primarily uses Procreate and Adobe Illustrator to create her work. The work on display in this exhibition were generated from a series of prompts prevalent in the world of editorial illustration. For this series, the artist tried to use metaphors to create subtle, thoughtful solutions to visual problems.
Should College Be Free?, Digital, 8” x 10”, 2019
godboisillustrations@gmail.com
@godbois_illustrations
Do You Think Anxiety Is A Problem Among Young People? Digital, 8” x 10”, 2020
When I Open My Eyes, Digital, 12” x 18”, 2019
Left: Have We Become Numb To School Shootings?, Digital, 8” x 12”, 2019 Above: What Does Feminism Mean To You?, Digital, 18” x 12”, 2020
ANGELIA HOLLENBACH Angelia Hollenbach’s work consists of cosplay portraiture, headshots, animal portraiture, and scanography. Angelia enjoys capture people’s personalities, especially in cosplay and other characters. In her work tries to present to the viewer, the hidden sides of her subjects’ lives and personalities. In her current project is a personal yearbook, where she creating supernatural using only herself as the characters in the studio. In the Yearbook, Hollenbach creating a section called superlatives, where classmates supposedly for the vote “the most likely to…” These photographs truly dig into positive or less positive memories and especially most of us had during high school.
evilangie21@gmail.com
YEARBOOK
@angeliahollenbach
Most Likely to Become a Florist, Injet Print, Photography, 11” x 17”, 2020
Most Likely to Day Dream in Class, Inkjet Print, 11” X 17” , 2020
Most Likely to Be Late for Class, Inkjet Print, 11” X 17” , 2020
Most Likely to Have the Best Fur, Inkjet Print, 11” X 17” , 2020
Most Likely to Dance in Halls, Inkjet Print, 11” X 17” , 2020
LUKE HUNT Cindy Sherman (American, b. 1954) is widely recognized as one of the most important and influential artists in contemporary art. Throughout her career, she has presented a sustained, eloquent, and provocative exploration of the construction of contemporary identity and the nature of representation, drawn from the unlimited supply of images from movies, TV, magazines, the Internet, and art history. Working as her own model for more than 30 years, Sherman has captured herself in a range of guises and personas which are at turns amusing and disturbing, distasteful and affecting. To create her photographs, she assumes multiple roles of photographer, model, makeup artist, hairdresser, stylist, and wardrobe mistress. With an arsenal of wigs, costumes, makeup, prosthetics, and props, Sherman has deftly altered her physique and surroundings to create a myriad of intriguing tableaus and characters, from screen siren to clown to aging socialite.
cindysherman.com
Name of piece, medium, size
UNTITLED FILM STILLS
hello@cindysherman.com
@csherman
ERIN JOHNSON Erin’s series “Wonder” is about wanting to escape the hardships of daily life and to an alternate world. Erin creates imaginative scenes that are linked to her childhood memories of fantasy films. A sense of wonder is portrayed in the work so that the viewer might see themselves connecting their own past. Apart from this, Erin is a portrait and editorial photographer from Georgetown, Massachusetts. Her goal is to capture moments for people and create quality images for the client. Photography is an important part of her life and will continue to be a passion of hers.
Seeking, Inkjet Print, 24” x 18”, 2020
WONDER
erin-nicolephotography.com .
Dreamscape, Inkjet Print,16” x 9”, 2019
Rose Garden, Inkjet Print, 18” x 24”, 2019
Drift Away, Inkjet Print, 18” x 24”, 2019
The Glowing Door, Inkjet Print, 24” x 18”, 2020
ELIZABETH JOHNSON Before pursuing an education in the arts, I held a career working in sales and marketing. I have been unfailingly captivated with the power of creative commerce, often describing myself as, “the universal target audience.” Powerful imagery and design coupled with thoughtful packaging has the ability to influence consumers to the point of perceiving a transaction as a reward. As a result, I find myself drawn to contributing to the field: I create product-centric digital photographs for advertising content.
Untitled, Photography, 11” x 17”, 2019
ejohnson1_ug@nec.edu
www.infinitecreative.net
Untitled, Photography, 11” x 17”, 2019
Untitled, Photography, 11” x 17”, 2019
Untitled, Photography, 8” x 10”, 2020
Untitled, Photography, 8” x 10”, 2019
AMELIA KESTER What we consider magical and unreal is very real to some people. Differences of opinion on religion, superstition, and the lives of people with persistent and elaborate delusions show that reality is not cutand-dry. It is for this reason that, although I draw inspiration from works of fantasy, I cannot quite align myself with any genre that treats the magical as fantastic. There is no wonder in magic to me. It is simply reality for many people. What I think is wonderful is what happens when you walk through a door. My work typically happens in what has been called a “fugue state.� My subconscious runs the gambit. Writing is pleasurable for me because the endeavor is just discovery, as if pulling beautiful glittering mother-of-pearl knives from a dark cave. To write is to constantly surprise myself. The act of discovery makes the process worth more than the product.
@restekov
@cutelyderanged
IT ISN’T ON THE INSIDE IT’S ON THE OUTSIDE IT’S ON THE OUTSIDE NOT THE INSIDE lying in bed in the dark. I could feel her connection “ Itowas me, but I couldn’t see her. It was as if she had transformed into a vapor and diffused throughout the room.
I said, Okay. I have to go to work tomorrow. Is it okay if I go to work? Yes, she said. Of course. But you’ll help me?
I asked her Why me? Why now? I wanted to know. She felt more possible in that moment, more variable, like a perfume.
Of course, I said, I would. Pause. Do you like the world?
I don’t know, she said. Then: I have a job. I have to find an egg.
I think so too I said and then I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
I know, I said. But why me? I don’t know, she said. Then: I felt the strings pulling strongly. Then: I’m very glad it was you. From the other humans I’ve met so far I don’t know if all of them would be as nice to me. Where is the egg? Is it close? Is it far away? It is very close. They said they would put me very close. There was a feeling of her rustling somehow. Like in fourth grade they showed us a video of a mole digging and this was like that.
She was quiet. I don’t know yet, she said. It’s very much.
ANUSHKA KOIRALA Anushka Koirala is a Printmaking major with an Art History minor. They were born and raised in Kathmandu, Nepal and moved to the US at the age of fifteen. Their work involves homesickness, nostalgia and trauma. They admire artists that draw inspiration from their cultures and make it their own. These works often involve themes such as traumas, abuses, oppression, and other forms of pain which is what Anushka makes their art about as well. Their largest body of work is made through the various processes of printmaking, relief being their preferred process. They also enjoy book arts and incorporating printmaking in their books. In their artistic future, they are excited to create mixed media pieces. For their current body of work, they decided to use translucent paper and materials because this works well to express fragility, vulnerability and sacredness of Anushka’s subject matter. Their thesis portrays the contrast between the darkness of traumatic events and the lightness of joy in life. Anushka hopes that their work encourages people to embrace these two sides, their vulnerabilities, and to use our individual gifts to ease our collective suffering.
anushka.koi
Name of piece, medium, size
UNTITLED FILM STILLS
koirala.anushka@gmail.com
MADISON LA VALLEY I’m a fine artist from New Hampshire, I deal with themes of religion, confusion and anxiety. This body of work conveys the confusion and fear I’ve felt all my life. In my thesis show I explored the idea of eternity and how fear installed in me by the Catholic church has shaped the way I think and live my life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been confused about the concept of eternity. The idea that there was a higher being that controls not only the things that happen on earth but also where I would end up in the afterlife. Fear of heaven and hell paralyzed me with anxiety; What would happen to me after I die? Would it be nothingness? Would I be sent to hell to suffer for my sins? Was I good enough to be sent to heaven and reunited with loved ones?
Silent Knowledge of the Beyond Detail
THE GATE TO ETERNITY
mla-valley_uq@nec.edu
@madisonlavalley_art
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MARISSA LUSSOS Marissa Lussos is a photographer born in New York and has been making her work in the studio for the past 3 years, starting with portraits then slowly moving into still lifes as well as working with dolls. In her photographs, she uses mannequins and Barbie doll as metaphors for selfreflection and also as commentary about contemporary beauty standards and social norms. Marissa aims to visually discuss femininity in a brighter way and not necessarily focus on social criticism. With her photographs and projects, she hopes to inspire women of all ages, sizes and backgrounds to develop positive body image.
Headshot courtesy of Robert Mitchell Photography, 2019
@marissalussosphotography
marissa.lussos@gmail.com
It’s a Secret, Inkjet Print, 24”x36”, 2020
Morphe X Colourpop, Inkjet Print, 24”x36”, 2019
Angles are Attitude, Inkjet Print, 24”x36”, 2019
The Pink Side of Life, Inkjet Print, 24”x24”, 2019
The Girls, Inkjet Print, 24”x36”, 2020
XAVIER MAURICE For the past 8 years I’ve committed myself to Graphic Design, specializing in developing Pictograms, Brand Identities, Infographics, and Advertising Campaigns. While working on a project, I focus on understanding the message and developing a unique concept by researching, brainstorming, and following my creative artistic inquiries. In my visual compositions I try to achieve a sense of balance, simplicity, and contrast by taking inspiration from many influences. I’ll continue to develop my mixed media aesthetic by continuing to pay tribute to minimalism, the eastern design aesthetic, traditional media, and DIY culture. Having a variety of influences drives my creativity and keeps me on the cutting edge of current design movements while also having a style all my own. My end goal is to create effective and lasting designs and build strong relationships with clients, fellow artists, and coworkers to help meet their needs. The Double, Digital, 27” x 40”, 2020
xavier.roenmaurice@gmail.com
@xmcreativeguild
Art Attack, Digital, 6” x 6”, 2018
Banshee, Digital, 13” x 19”, 2020
Above: Crease Lightning, Digital, 8.5” x11”, 2017 The Oscars (while Black), Digital, 18” x 26”, 2020
Right: Fairfeed Brand Identity, Digital, 2020
REBEKAH MCCUE The idea of a fantasy novel is often shaped by the concept of the hero’s journey. But this journey necessarily requires a hero—and try as you might, you will not find one in this book. What you will find instead are civilians, equal parts unassuming and awe-inspiring: a druid who burns the land in order to better preserve it; an alchemist attempting to create a miracle cure for a dear friend’s fractured mind; a young goblin taught that every creature deserves to live and who must suddenly practice what they preach. While separated from each other by physical space, they are all connected by the impending or present death of their sun god, the Dawnlord. A group of adventurers are completing the hero’s journey somewhere in the background. But much grander are the personal lives of each of these seven strangers, forced to change in unexpected and remarkable ways.
rebekahmccue@gmail.com
@rebekahmccue
Excerpt from Death of the Dawnlord are used to meeting under moonlight, but we are “ We not used to that being when the world is brightest.
The silver outlines on the brush begin to shift and shake as each of our people creeps uneasily from their homes, out into the circular field we have carefully cultivated as we found it many moons ago. Or so the stories say. I am watching from my chosen spot a pace forward from the furthest edge from the Ellis tree. It gives me the greatest view of our people. And the greatest chance of not being caught talking. “What’s your father going to say now, Whitetooth?” I can’t help but jump when Bilbin manages to sneak behind me. Again. I turn and they smile wide enough to show the teeth they broke biting uncut bones, pleased with themself for their stalking skill. They reach two fingers down to the frozen soil, raking their claws to loosen the sediment before spitting loudly on the frosty dust. “So, what’s it going to be this time?” they ask, streaking the self-made mud under their eyes. “Are we going to delay our raid on the human village again because they ‘aren’t used to a world without sunlight’? Or maybe to ‘allow them time to replenish their resources’?”
“You seem hostile to the idea,” I say. Though truthfully, I am also confused with Father’s decision; we have always done raids on the human village during dark nights, taking food from their stores to prevent famine among our tribe. But the role of a Watcher is to create discussion, not to end it. Bilbin hisses angrily. Even in the blue-grey light, their orange eyes seem to flash to red. “The sun hasn’t come for several moonfalls,” they say. “If you ask me, the Night Mother sent us a blessing for war, and we’re wasting it! I think we should—” I shush them as movement in the Ellis Tree catches my eye. I nod towards the shape climbing the gnarled bark. The low, wide leaves hide it in shadow until they climb forwards on all fours to the lowest branch, necklace of teeth and bones glowing in the silver light that outlines their warty skin, their ragged ears. “Good dark to you, my friends,” Father greets us, bowing their head and bending their elbows. We nod in kind, and as I watch I see Father glance uncertainly to the sky. “It has been ten moonfalls since the sun last came,” they say, “and the Night Mother’s gifts to us have never been so kind. Our night eyes have led us to discarded lots of food, our teeth and claws the ability to tear through frozen bodies of prey. We are at a place of abundance never seen by our kind before.”
“Here comes the major ‘but,’” Bilbin whispers. “Or ‘butt.’” They smirk and turn to show their rear and point, and I swat their elbow to quiet them. “Our wealth of resources has grown to a point that we do not require raiding to feed our people,” Father continues, unaware. “However, to hoard this wealth of ours would be a product of greed and wastefulness. As the Night Mother gifted us kindness in our hour of need, so too should we gift the same to others who are struggling.” They pause then. The pause I know from when they told me Mother wasn’t coming home. From when a raiding party came back with no meat except one of our own. “… The Dark Moon will come in two moonrises. At that time, after our ceremony, we will send a raiding party to the human village not to take food from their homes, but to place some of our excess among them.” Our people shout in protest, the noise causing the silver leaves to shimmer in motion. Correction, half our people. Bilbin’s form hops in place, back halfbent and teeth cracking with swears. I only see this from the edges of my vision; my eyes are searching the clearing, watching some tribe members react in similar ways, others try to quell them or with eyes locked on our Watcher.
My gaze slips down to the heads of our people and skims over their faces. Heads were turning to glance behind and around, every yellow-golden eye searching every other and hastily moving away after catching each other. No one wanting to be the first to speak. “I’ll go,” I say. My arm has raised to indicate myself and I’m not sure when it happened. This certainly isn’t the way I imagined my first raid beginning, yet I still feel compelled for a reason I can’t name yet. I’m as stunned with myself as I am with Bilbin when they snarl, spit into the ground and say, “I will, too.”
Some of our elder raiders begin to choose themselves slowly as Father’s relieved eyes turn from us to them. I turn to look at Bilbin, nearly able to see my shocked expression reflected back at me in their narrowed glare. “Why—?” “It’s not for them,” they snarl. “I want to make sure they know.”
“
Father watches us all with somber eyes, lips drawn quietly. They wait a moment or two for the voices to quiet, for the initial shout to pass by. “Peace, peace.” They speak softly, quell the remaining anger to an irate silence. “I understand your fears and frustrations, I truly do,” Father says. “But we cannot allow this bounty to go to waste. I have spoken with our sibling tribes further in the forest, and they are overflowing as well. The Night Mother’s gifts are meant to be shared with those in need, the humans are now those people. However, as our kind are still reviled by other races, this raid will be just as dangerous as any other, and I would not ask any of us to take on this task unless you choose to. Are there any here who would wish to go?”
ALECSANDER MCINNIS Alecsander McInnis is an illustrator and comic artist who resides in Londonderry, New Hampshire. Ever since he began to develop his artistic skills, the artist has switched between several medias and has made alterations to his style several times. Through his work he hopes to inspire others to dream. Regardless of Alecsander’s ever-evolving style and approach to using different media, he has never lost sight of that goal. The body of work shown depicts a selection of pages from a personal narrative the artist has developed in the form of a graphic novel. The pages on display depict several moods ranging from heartwarming conversations employing calm, quiet mark-making to intense confrontations conveyed by sharp facial features, chaotic compositions and bold, organic use of line. The characters in the narrative on display face hard truths such as getting what you want, but not exactly in the way you wanted it.
MONSTER SLAYERS Name of piece, medium, size
alecsander.mcinnis@gmail.com
alecsandermcinnis.com
PAIGE MONAST Inspired by raw emotion and my impulsive nature, I Integrate words and phrases from my own journaling during challenging times in my life into both prints and clay work. Using striking primary colors layered through organic processes I incorporate hand-cut stencils which add an edge of geometry to contrast the organic textures placed. The order I place items become random compositional elements as I re-arrange and reprint the next piece. Found materials are used to create layers of texture and pattern in the prints and on the ceramic forms. Striving to build connections between my prints and clay work, I explore how color is used to make a cohesive body of work. Searching for bright colors in the clay process I am able to mimic my prints, using some of the same stencil and pattern. Telling a story though multiple pieces, the viewer is meant to move back and forth between pieces in both media, making contextual and visual connections through type, color, form, and textures.
cindysherman.com
Name of piece, medium, size
UNTITLED FILM STILLS
hello@cindysherman.com
@csherman
CROW MONTANI Crow is a multifaceted designer who creates work with inspiration drawn from pop culture, modern artists, and historical eras. Their art focuses on bold colors, shapes, and type applied to various media such as packaging, posters, and web design. Their designs use a mix of patterns, hand-lettering, and typography to create light-hearted designs for a wide audience. Moby Dick Bistro Poster, Digital, 11� x 14�, 2020
crowmontani@gmail.com
@crowmontani
New Years Resolution #1, Digital, 8” x 10”, 2020
New Years Resolution #2, Digital, 8” x 10”, 2020
THE PICKY WALLET CO. for those who beg AND choose.
Left: Picky Wallet Co. Packaging, Vector, 8.5” x 11”, 2020 Above: 88 Bottles Can Designs, Digital, 6” x 6”, 2020
Left: Wine Pairing Infographic, Vector, 11” x 17”, 2020 Above: Dungeons & Dragons Merch, Digital, 8.5” x 11”, 2020
SIERRA PETROS An empty canvas provides limitless possibilities to combine lines, shapes, colors and textures. When creating portraits of characters in my work, the expression and personality of the character dictates type of line and brushwork I use to depict them. I paint with acrylic colors straight from the tube with little mixing in order to create an arrangement of bright, saturated shapes that pop out from the canvas. To develop a range of values, I often use oil pastel which also adds textures to the flat colors. Over the past four years I have found my own personal voice by exploring characters through use of flat, geometric shapes and a cartoon-inspired style of drawing. Through my studies, I have found a multitude of facial features and expressions to exaggerate to describe a character’s emotions.
cindysherman.com
Name of piece, medium, size
UNTITLED FILM STILLS
hello@cindysherman.com
@csherman
MARISSA PETRUCindy Sherman (American, b. 1954) is widely recognized as one of the most important and influential artists in contemporary art. Throughout her career, she has presented a sustained, eloquent, and provocative exploration of the construction of contemporary identity and the nature of representation, drawn from the unlimited supply of images from movies, TV, magazines, the Internet, and art history. Working as her own model for more than 30 years, Sherman has captured herself in a range of guises and personas which are at turns amusing and disturbing, distasteful and affecting. To create her photographs, she assumes multiple roles of photographer, model, makeup artist, hairdresser, stylist, and wardrobe mistress. With an arsenal of wigs, costumes, makeup, prosthetics, and props, Sherman has deftly altered her physique and surroundings to create a myriad of intriguing tableaus and characters, from screen siren to clown to aging socialite.
cindysherman.com
Name of piece, medium, size
UNTITLED FILM STILLS
hello@cindysherman.com
@csherman
RACHEL ROBERTS I first had an interest in art when my grandfather gave me a child’s step-by-step drawing book at the age of five. I grew up with the interest of drawing realism inspired by artists such as Mark Crilley and MC Escher. While attending college at the Institute of Art & Design at New England College, I switched my focus from illustration to graphic design with the desire to work more commercially. Since starting college, I have learned the value of keeping a likeminded community, but to also embrace change.
Roberts’ Artist Image, Digital, 5” x 7”, 2020
rachelrebrob@gmail.com
rachelrobertsdesigns.wordpress.com
Fasting Facts, Digital, 18” x 24”, 2019
Adoption Options, Digital, 18” x 24”, 2019
Church History Timeline, Digital, 14” x 24”, 2019
Student Loans Then vs Now, Digital 11” x 17”, 2019
Lake Life, Digital, 24” x 18”, 2019
MIKAELA RUSSELL I fell in love with art at an early age, preferably the fantasy genre due to the creative freedom it provides. I am also an admirer of representational art, specifically portraiture. Originally working with traditional media, I now work primarily with digital techniques due to the opportunities it provides for self-expression. My passion for artmaking has helped me develop a fantastical, realistic style in which I create colorful illustrations that convey imaginative concepts. Most of my work features strong-willed, independent female characters that break common stereotypes in the fantasy genre. However, my portfolio also shows an ability to apply my skills to a wide variety of assignments across different genres and markets. My hope is that this flexibility will prove to be beneficial as I pursue a career in illustration.
Queen and Her Guardians, digital, 12.5� x 18�, 2020
mrussellillustrations@gmail.com
mikaelarussellillustrations.com
mikaela_russell_illustrations
Hunting Companions, digital, 12” x 16”, 2020
Shield Maiden and Ship, digital, 12.5” x 18.5”, 2019
First: Intown Manchester Summer Banner, digital, 10”x18”, 2020 Second: Intown Manchester Winter Banner, digital, 10”x 18”, 2020 Third: Elemental Priestess, digital, 11”x14”, 2020
JAIME SERRANO Jaime Serrano is a printmaker working primarily with relief and textiles, creating detail-heavy, dark images. His work explores themes of death and spirituality through animals, most of them in some form of decomposition and decay. This decay, however, is depicted in a positive light. It is what connects one back to nature, allows the body to nourish those around it. He also uses these animals to represent bigger ideas: lost loved ones, the feeling of being an outsider, the peace that comes from a quiet celebration of death.
Above: Broken Vessel, Woodcut, 18” x 24”, 2019 Right: My Dearest Friend I: Your Familiar Form Will Feed the Dirt Beneath You, Lithograph, 9” x 12”, 2019
@clovenhoney
clovenhaunt@gmail.com
My Dearest Friend II: Will the Trees Nurture You Like I Once Did?, Lithograph, 9” x 12”, 2019
Restful, Etching, 8” x 10”, 2020
Strength, Relief Print on Fabric, 5” x 7”, 2019
JESSALYN SILVEIRA Jessalyn Silveira is a visual artist whose work covers a vast spectrum of mediums. Within their senior thesis show, they used the expanse of available media to explore themes of upcycling and spirituality. The textile work within their show is made with recycled fabrics as well as yarns. Jessalyn firmly believes in using what you have in order to reduce the waste already polluting the world. Their framed pieces and shelves are also thrifted and upcycled. Giving a new life to worn and loved materials proved to be a gratifying experience. Spirituality comes through with their tarot cards. The theming of their cards comes from the importance of embracing femininity as a personal strength. Colors such as pink and generally bright hues and pastels are often associated with weakness and frailty, so Jessalyn uses these conflicting themes to explore their own gender expression and thoughts of feminine sexuality.
sketchbunnies@gmail.com
Pineapple Pizza, Digital, 5� x 5�
@sketchbunnies
The Star, Digital, 8” x 13.82”
The World, Digital, 8” x 13.82”
The Empress, 8” x 13.82”
Left: Fruit, Digital, 12” x 16” Right: He Loves Me, Digital, 5” x 7”
Left: Solo vs Team, Digital, 6” x 6” Right: Small Red Boy, Digital, 12.5” x 18.5”
EMMITT SOURDIF Cindy Sherman (American, b. 1954) is widely recognized as one of the most important and influential artists in contemporary art. Throughout her career, she has presented a sustained, eloquent, and provocative exploration of the construction of contemporary identity and the nature of representation, drawn from the unlimited supply of images from movies, TV, magazines, the Internet, and art history. Working as her own model for more than 30 years, Sherman has captured herself in a range of guises and personas which are at turns amusing and disturbing, distasteful and affecting. To create her photographs, she assumes multiple roles of photographer, model, makeup artist, hairdresser, stylist, and wardrobe mistress. With an arsenal of wigs, costumes, makeup, prosthetics, and props, Sherman has deftly altered her physique and surroundings to create a myriad of intriguing tableaus and characters, from screen siren to clown to aging socialite.
cindysherman.com
Name of piece, medium, size
UNTITLED FILM STILLS
hello@cindysherman.com
@csherman
EMILY SOUSA Emily Sousa is an illustrator that grew up in Southern New Hampshire. She started pursuing her passion for the arts at age 13 by posting drawings from her sketchbook online. Things really started to take off when she was given a Wacom drawing tablet and the digital software, Painttool SAI, for Christmas one year. While most of Emily’s work at that time was fanart of the comics and TV shows she loved, it would be the foundation for her love of saturated color palettes, expressive characters, and unique visual storytelling.
Name of piece, medium, size
During her time in college, Emily explored a number of traditional media but ultimately fell in love with classic pen and ink drawings. She found that the medium worked well with her already strong digital skillset to create organic shapes combined with sharp, dynamic colors. Emily hopes to develop her illustration career alongside her love for art education as she moves on into her fifth year in New England College’s master’s of education program.
sousstudios@gmail.com
@soustudios
SAM SVENSSON My project is a collection of curated personal essays and corresponding fables, each with significance to me and to the larger theme of conversation. I settled upon conversation because it is one of the human traits that can be seen in all dimensions of culture. The narrative voice, written from the POV of one Manus Farbank, laments the absurdity of modern existence, how a lack of meaningful conversation contributes to gun violence, rampant consumerism, disregard for human welfare, etc. Each fable is a morality play that connects to the corresponding essay topic. For example, gun violence is explored in a tale of garden gnomes; their idyllic life damaged and threatened by a distant, far off bureaucracy. In another, consumerism is explored with an island of sheep and their collective efforts to outlive the tyranny of a capitalist shrew.
@il_tor
manus.farbank@gmail.com
Excerpt from the essay, “On the Topic of: Sleeplessness” speaking, “ Generally if you ever look over at your alarm clock and it reads: “5 AM”-this means one of two things.
You either have your life entirely together, so much so that you rest early enough at night and are in good enough health from purposeful routine to be waking up at 5 AM, or, your life is so entirely derailed, for any number of reasons, that you are still yet awake at 5 in the morning. For me, it’s always been the latter, not that I would ever choose to be awake that early if I were eligible; begrudgingly, I see those neon symbols flash and I feel the weight of my strained vitals well up in my chest, burning your youth, are we? To my credit, I have always been a night owl. It’s as if my brain was wired backward, lethargy and dozing in the daytime, all my thoughts bottlenecked one at a time into my head from wherever it is that thoughts come from. I sway and fade and try to grasp what it is I’m seeing but it muddles together and I do my best because that’s all there is. But
in the night, a dam bursts, and I can’t get away from the noise; sirens and ideas, a whirlwind of notions that hands me all the answers I could have needed for that day, but twelve hours too late. Immutable, it’s something I carry within me. Doctors have a lot of words to box it away and set it tidy on a shelf, but insomnia, desynchronisation, melatonin deficiency only help so much and are only words to tell me what I’ve known is known. Tell me something I don’t know. And they say that it isn’t normal, but then why do so many people have trouble sleeping? If you and I didn’t have to go to work, were we out in the woods and fields, would it matter especially when my body told me to sleep and when it told me to wake? Perhaps it would be useful, even, to have one out of ten keep up and watch for the wolves and mountain lions while all others slept; in fact, I know it would, because every successful civilization has had night guards, a night watch. When you take to it like that, the conversation has changed. Why am I up at 5 in the morning? There is suddenly a third and fourth intent, this is how I am and I am doing it so that others may sleep. But we currently acknowledge nor legitimize either of these, though we could, in a culture no longer bound to the archaic workday of sunlight and candles. We choose to not accommodate those that would sleep differently and break them into shape, as a
catholic school sets upon children who are lefthanded until they admit fault and learn to scrawl with their right. It appears that, even as we push past the limitations of our nature, we invent new ways to clutch conformity for those that would set standards. It has always been this way. Think on it; I certainly have. The first caveman to get his hands on a stick stood in front of the first stream and decided who would drink and who wouldn’t and passed his stick down to his son after teaching him what he though the criteria for drinking was and was not. And sometimes, people’s nature falls into favor with the tune of that culture. Artists, especially, struggle; then briefly become lucrative under the stride of men like Medici who beguile the rulers, the church, the banks, into appreciating humanity and it’s expressions, but it only ever lasts for a time. The expressive gives way again to practicum, left-handed individuals must once again become righties, and those who are biologically or otherwise predisposed to be awake and alert during the night, must once again attempt to tranquilize and euthanize the truth of their nature to be awake with the larks, all for the sensibilities of the senseless antiquated. Does this seem like a lot from nothing? Perhaps I am accentuating, but these are symptoms,
While I don’t get a lot of sleep, I do have a lot of time to think, and you now know just how much there is to think about at 5 AM. So what do you and I do from here? There’s a caveman with a stick deciding whether or not you and I get to drink from that stream. Be your beliefs, sexuality, race, gender, class, size, shape, attitude, studies, intelligence, capabilities, handedness, circadian rhythm, or any other trait be too threatening or lacking or outlying to that caveman’s, you will be beaten, broken, made a scapegoat or denied your thirst, until you are dead, have left, or are assimilated. This is how we permit our hegemony to stand, not for any lack of rebelling or telling off, but for being just tame enough, because the consequences for a failed upheaval of ours is far more weighty than the failings of those who rule. If only some of us protest and refuse to work, those people are rounded up and sent to jail and the remainder pick up where they left off. When an oligarchy fails to safeguard its people against famine and war, their failures are paid back in full for experimenting with the ratio that is our lives to their profit margins.
The only sensible way to be, as much as I can see past the bags under my eyes, is one in which everyone may live for what is true for them without making others lie to themselves. That, and the sleep to be rested enough to live that life. Nothing else will ever bring us actualization, and we will never accidentally escape our own natures. Anyone who would step in front of you and bar the path to a deserved drink, unless you would change for them, is no one worth listening to, no one worth electing, and nothing to lose sleep over.
“
evidence of the whole disease, an ignorance that pervades and eludes truth. It usurps the truth, a matter of opinion and selective evidence, quotes out of context, all to continue the passing down of a stick--
AARON SWEENEY Aaron Sweeney is a photographer working in South Eastern Massachusetts. His work revolves around the places and people in which he is familiar. He draws inspiration from the landscape of the neighborhoods in which he grew up and finds the examination of places to be important. The feeling of social and physical isolation is an important theme in his work. Portraits of Home is an examination into his connection with the idea of home. This narrative was a way for him to work through his own difficulties with isolation and becoming independent. The photographs in this project aren’t simply about houses, but their representation of home. A house can be an all-encompassing space in which a home is formed, or simply four walls with nothing inside. As humans, we all want to belong to something and feel wanted.
Stillness, Digital Photograph, 2019
@aaronsweeneyphoto
PORTRAITS OF HOME aaronsweeneyphotography@gmail.com
Pale Blue, Digital Photograph, 2020
Rust, Digital Photograph, 2020
Reserved, Digital Photograph, 2019
Asleep, Digital Photograph, 2019
Seasonally Bare, Digital Photograph, 2020
EMILY THOMPSON Lee began with a lot of notes and research on psychopaths, synesthesia, sensory disorders, serial killers, and lepidopterology. I had a small notebook that I carried everywhere with me to write down story ideas and research. What started out as a grisly thriller with three narrators transformed into a hybrid work, blending epistolary writing with formal documents. As the book unfolds, an interwoven narrative emerges that follows one woman’s journey navigating the tortured legacy of trauma. Lee is told non-chronologically as the narrator, Clementine, looks back on her life. It begins somewhere between withdrawal and awareness, nearly seven years after the main events occur. Through Clementine’s journal entries— some addressing her deceased mother, some addressing a vague you—and assorted formal documents, both Clementine and the reader learn more about her past, and gain an understanding of the tragedies she’s endured.
cindysherman.com
LEE
hello@cindysherman.com
@csherman
Excerpt from Lee
“
Feb. 3 2018 The first time you let me walk around Huxley alone it was early summer when I was about seven, June maybe, I remember the June beetles were out something fierce then so it must’ve been, and you doused me in repellant before I left the house. I definitely remember the tantrum I threw over that smell and you threatening to force me inside all day if I didn’t stop with my “fuckin’ poutin’ an’ shoutin’ at wunce” and how I most certainly did stop then and there. The trees were all lively, bleeding green and shooting up not a bit gangly, and it was still early enough that most everybody was still in bed asleep as I traipsed the trails. Everyone but Esther, who was on her porch in the rocking chair she’d later gift to me, knitting and rocking and waving. I ducked down the path in front of Esther’s house leading into the woods. Back then the only buildings sprouting amidst the trees were ours, Esther’s, Miss Whitacre’s, the “boarding house,” and of course the generator shed just off what would eventually become the “Center” of Huxley, so all there was to see and be were the trees and bushes and boulders. Wild, long, scraggly grass perked up and raked along ankles as I hopped over rocks and brushed up against the deep bark and felt the cool itch along my arm settle in my hips in a most relaxing way. Birds chirped overhead both amongst the branches and fluttering along the canopy, and a gentle
breeze carried through, not remotely raucous, and the light blondish-still hairs on my arms lifted and lilted and froze in some suspended stasis, and I tumbled on, little dandelion weed that I was, and wound up deeper in the woods than I’d expected. I knew to look for the lilac ribbons if I got too lost, but that was the whole point of this walk that you knew would earn you some peace and quiet, for me to get lost for a while. It was such a beautiful quiet day and the sun was peeking through the canopy and I could feel it on my skin all warm and tingly and I just wanted to feel that for as long as possible so I kept on. By the time the sun had fully broken for the day over the horizon, I reached the lake, stepping directly in it. I’d been so distracted by watching the birds and looking up at the sun that it wasn’t until my left foot was fully submerged in the water that I realized where I was. Everything was still, the water, the trees, the earth, my mind, before I knew what I was doing I’d stripped down to my underwear and run straight into the water. With my hair swarming around me, the water caressing my face, my palms flat against the surface, I was weightless. Everything was quiet, the radiating ache in my knees, the shrill voice that gnawed away from inside, the air, all of it, silent and shining. I was floating on my back when you found me, and the stillness quickly ended with your shrieks of agony thinking I’d drowned and died.
Apr. 11 2019 I’m in a courtroom. There’s a ceiling fan overhead, missing a single bolt from each blade, making it rickety as it wobbles alive. I’m in the back row, and somehow the only row, right in front of him. He smiles at me. I look down and see the orange jumpsuit, when I look back up his hands are at my throat. I wake up. Feb. 18 2018 I had another session with Anne today after work. She asked about you again. It hasn’t really gotten any easier than before, except that I actually kind of can now. I mean, not really, depends on the person, Anne’s an exception because it’s not like she can’t just look in the file and see the information she wants anyways. You were a good mother most of the time who fiercely loved her children and prematurely died in an inexplicable ladder accident. It’s all right there in black & white, why do I need to say it over and over again? What does she hope to learn that I haven’t already said? Doyle didn’t just find you and call me over to look at your body with its blood pooling around your skull, he actually tipped the ladder over? I have no proof, nothing beyond the absent gaze in his eyes as I screamed literal bloody murder. Do you know what it’s like to feel death when you’re not dying? To feel the bones in your head shift like tectonic plates so invisible liquid can spill out of a non-existent opening, trickle over your eyebrow and dry up as the world slowly fades away, black edges
[date illegible] I walked along the narrow path, kicking pebbles and scattering acorns as I went. The little crinkle tinkle plopping noise reverberated and bounced from left shoulder to right. Scratchy scraggly bark brushed against my elbow as I entered the thicket behind Mrs. Matildha Maybrook’s home. Although I had to endure the cantered squawk of her daughter, Ruby’s, singing every time, it was the quickest shortcut to the library. After a few hundred yards, I passed by the compost pile and tried not to pass out. It wasn’t the smell, but it was. All putrid and rot, reeking. Reeking like a sun-bleached asshole three times skunked. I held my breath and quickly scurried towards open air. A low gravelly hum assaulted my ears as I darted past the generator shed, shoving my fingers in my ears to shield myself from the furious onslaught of grinding cogs and gears. It had been maybe eight or nine or as much as ten minutes since I left my house to go to work and I hadn’t heard the birds chirping once. I actually missed their song, the lilting warble of their voices crying out in harmony. There was one walk I took where I half-
watched, half-cowered as a baby bird torpedoed into a tree trunk right in front of me. I spent the following two weeks attempting to nurse it back to health only to find it dead on the greenhouse floor. There was no suicidal baby bird on this particular walk. The breeze walloped through the trees, rattled the branches, and rose strands of hair on my arms insectile. I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing warmth back into my hollow frame, and ignored the buzzquick trilling the back of my throat wanted to release in warped hush.
“
creep over pupils blurring rocks trees doyle you, only water remains sloshing in the belly which is falling over, collapsing, lungs failing for air, and finally upon collapse do they re-inflate… when I’m no longer looking at your lifeless body. Suffice it to say, you did not have an open casket.
MARIANNA TREMBLAY Marianna Tremblay is a photographer and fine artist from southern New Hampshire. Her work is inspired and informed by the phases of her life. In her practice, she experiments with photography, including alternative processes such as cyanotype. She also incorporates book arts, collage, embroidery and other art methods. Marianna’s current body of work has focused on family and the connection that is shared. This connection is one that spans across generations and ties people together who have never met. The title of this work is Unexpected Company. It honors the women in her family as well as the skills that have been passed down through the generations. Patches made of yarn and stitched fabric mingle with embroidered messages from the past. In this work, Marianna uses her family’s tradition of handmade gift-giving to craft an heirloom that will stand the test of time.
Nana’s Raisin Buns, Cyanotype on Fabric, 9” x 9”, 2019
UNEXPECTED COMPANY mftremblay123@gmail.com
@mariannas.photos
Unexpected Company, Textile and Cyanotype on Fabric, 72” x 45”, 2020
Mittens 1, Archival Inkjet Print, 10” x 10”, 2019
Mittens 2, Archival Inkjet Print, 10” x10”, 2019
Mother, Archival Inkjet Print, 10” x 10”, 2019
Self, Archival Inkjet Print, 10” x 10”, 2019
SAMANTHA VERDISCO The images in my senior exhibition are portraits I created of various actors and musicians that have inspired me to push forward and work hard to achieve my dreams. Whether it was pushing down social norms, overcoming fear of rejection, or battling mental health or drug abuse issues, these people have embraced their struggle and pushed forward no matter the challenge or obstacle. Portraits have always been a strong part of my growth as an artist, it’s a subject that throughout my years of learning I have always found myself falling back into. Some of my fondest memories are sitting in my high school art class and drawing or painting portraits of friends, family, and the occasional celebrity crush I would have. But for the most part I draw people that I have looked up to, people who inspired me to be a better person. They have inspired me to want to do better and to achieve the goals I have set for myself.
Zendaya, Digital illustration, 13” x 19”, 2020
samanthaverdisco1998@gmail.com
@discoarts
Robert Downey Jr, Digital, 13” x 19”, 2020
Hayley Kiyoko, Digital, 13” x 19”, 2020
Jenna Marbles, Digital, 13” x 19”, 2020
Melanie Scrofano, Digital, 13” x 19”, 2020
NF, Digital, 13” x 19”, 2020
KIERSTIN WELCH In my first few years in college, whenever I wrote a piece, I used fictional names and invented lives to cover up my own experiences. Over time, I have learned that no character can explore my stories better than I can. When I’m writing personal narratives, I am able to be brutally honest, to find myself in the writing. I am not a scared girl anymore, but someone who is no longer hiding from her past. In my essays, I am addressing sexual assault, having an eating disorder, complicated relationships, and my own struggle to accept myself. I am addressing everything that has made me the person I am now—sometimes cynical, sometimes trapped in my head with anxiety, sometimes a bad bitch who is just trying to get shit done. I am a collection of weird combinations and I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.
kierstin.115012@gmail.com
PARTICIPATION TROPHIES: A COLLECTION OF MISFORTUNES, MISTAKES, AND MARVELS
@_welchs_grapejuice
Excerpt from Participation Trophies: A Collection of Misfortunes, Mistakes, and Marvels have always been large. I have always struggled with “ Ithat, every aspect of it. Now I know this may come as a surprise, so please try and contain your gasps and shocked oohs and ahhs. How is it that a fat girl has a problem with her weight? The neverending rolls of my stomach? The excessive jiggle of my thighs when there is a bump in the road? The chins that seem to multiply when I laugh? How is this even possible, you may be asking yourself. I am told nearly every day that I need to love myself, or if I don’t love myself, I need to work out or eat better. They aren’t wrong; in some ways, I agree and I have fucking tried, believe me I have. It’s exhausting trying to wear short–sleeve shirts without feeling uncomfortable, or trying to find long–sleeve shirts that will actually stretch enough to fit around my arms. The arms that could qualify as calves. My calves could qualify as thighs. My individual thighs are equal to two waists. My waist, that of one’s hips, and my hips too large to be compared to anything else, at least on the human body. A hippo’s, perhaps. Speaking of, I had a friend once who decided to compare everyone to an animal. What do you think he chose? You guessed it, a hippo. I had made it a mission to change his mind during summer vacation
before starting high school. I wanted to be a gazelle, something lean and majestic. I still think about that sometimes. I think about it when my boyfriend holds me at night. On the rare occasions I sleep naked, I know he can feel my protruded stomach, fleshy and folded. I curl my body into itself, using my arms as a barrier. When he removes his hand, I think maybe if I was gazelle, I could let him keep it there. But I never changed that summer; I tried so fucking hard, but it didn’t matter. I was still a hippo. When I walked in the first day, I noticed how much everyone else had changed and that I was left the same girl who always wore sweatshirts and sweatpants, except all of the friends I had didn’t want me around anymore. The stakes were a lot higher. How was I supposed to compete with Victoria Secret or Hollister? I couldn’t even go shopping in those stores. Not that I wanted to, shopping was and still is the bane of my existence, my archnemesis. It’s a defeat when walking out of a dressing room, sweat and redness pricking my forehead. Every item, in all of its sizes, is placed on the go–back rack. This is the rack that reminds me I don’t belong here, along with the person, their eyes bouncing up and down my body, saying, “no luck?” as if shopping is about luck. Feeling beautiful is a horseshoe, and confidence is a bird shitting on you at the beach.
My friends stand with their yellow bags, curious as to how I had so many things to try on, but left with nothing except for a tiny piece of stretchy fabric all worked out. One shirt low cut so the bowling balls strapped to my chest can breathe. I’d rather buy one small thing than feel the discouragement of leaving a store that isn’t catered to me, filled with people knowing I don’t belong there. The feeling of walking out empty handed is something that is charged with undertones of purging. My friends never like going to the one store where things are meant for me. Where shirts wouldn’t compress my tits into pancake–esque smushes. Where jeans won’t struggle going over the dimples of my thighs let alone the mounds of stretch marks that are my ass cheeks. They say they need to get a coffee first, or some other excuse, to get out of sticking around. “I don’t know,” she says, “I always get these glares when I go in there.” Shuffling the bag on her shoulder, “I can’t control the fact that I’m skinny.” “I’ve never noticed anything like that,” I say, getting closer and closer to the small storefront. “That’s the opposite of what this store’s about.” “Except they only have plus sizes,” she says. “Their clothes are so cute, but they don’t even think of other sizes.”
“So, you know exactly how I feel when I come in here,” she says, sighing, her footsteps lingering at the entrance. She’ll walk in for two seconds. Before I can ask for her opinion, she prances away to the multitude of other options for her, and I breathe in the scent of body positivity, until a group of kids walk by and call it the fat person store, laughing the way teenagers who are experiencing their best years laugh. The other plus– sized women in the store look the same way I do— defeated and questioning the articles of clothing over their arms. In moments such as this, I think about when I was young. I couldn’t go to a store like this; if it wasn’t the clearance section of a department store, it was out of the question. My mother would never buy these clothes. I had to plead with her for months to get skinny jeans, which I had believed would make someone associate the type of jeans with the rest of my body; they didn’t. The second time I wore them people laughed at me more for trying than if I had worn the same baggy clothes I was trying to replace. Even now I question everything I put on my body. Instead of noticing how my green romper accentuates
my figure more two–hour than hourglass, I notice the slight swell of the fabric over my stomach. Did this fit like this before? Did I gain weight? Why did I even buy this? Maybe if I wore my control tights it would help, but they chafe. I had to think like this, question everything. If my shoes hit the wrong part of my ankle, my calves would look even larger. If a skirt or dress fell to my knees or longer, I would look shorter and therefore wider. I needed to elongate, not push down. Pushed down, the way I have to keep my when I eat in public.
“
“That’s because every other store is catered for those ‘other’ sizes. This is the one store that I have where I don’t feel judged.”
ADRIANA ZULUETA For centuries, ceramics have been used to tell stories. This body of work is the story of the resilience of the human spirit. The narrative is related to the tradition of kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery, making it whole with lacquer and gold, transforming a treasured object. A restored piece is revered for its preservation and enriched by the addition of gold, a visual statement of honor. Surviving trauma and rising from tragedy to become stronger and more resilient is the human process of kintsugi. The beauty and refinement of the human character and the transcendence of the spirit should be revered and honored.
Sweet Pea (Transcend Detail), Porcelain, 6.75 ” x 6 ” x 6”, 2020
RESILIENCE
The pieces here are a metaphor for the effects of our modern world’s disregard and disdain for the fragile human spirit; an allegory of verbal assault and internal dialogue as the spirit moves from rubble through recovery to renaissance.
adriana.zulueta.arts@gmail.com
@adriana_zulueta_arts
Shatter, Porcelain, 5.75” x 6” x 6”, 2020
Top: Survive, Porcelain, 6” x 6” x 5.5”, 2020 Bottom: Heal, Porcelain, 6.5” x 5.5” x 5.5”, 2020
Left: Thrive, Porcelain, 5.75” x 6” x 6”, 2020 Right: Transcend, Porcelain, 6.75” x 6” x 6”, 2020