Including: Surgical Tech Student Poetry
Parkland College Student Art Magazine
A Parkland College Student Publication 2400 W. Bradley • Champaign, IL 61821• imagesmag.tumblr.com • images@parkland.edu
In 1981, the first edition of IMAGES was published. It was supported and promoted by Joe Harris, chair of the Department of Humanities at the time. After a few annual editions, and then an extended hiatus, IMAGES reappeared in 2000 in its current soft cover format. The Prospectus News has been the publisher and promoter of the publication since 2003. Each year we approach the project with great expectations. This year, we are proud to present a selection of the finest works of traditional visual arts, graphic art, digital media and computer generated artwork, Poetry, fiction, non-fiction, and three dimensional sculpture that Parkland College students have produced. IMAGES provides valuable, hands-on experience with various responsibilities of magazine design and production. IMAGES also provides student-artists with a great opportunity to get their work published. special thanks: A special thank you goes out to the Parkland College Student Government and the Office of Student Life for financial support and special assistance making this publication possible.
A special thank you goes out to the faculty of the Departments of Fine Arts and the Department of Humanities. They are critical to the success of the publication in both its content and promotion. Thank you to Paul Young, whose design guidance has been instrumental in this edition. Last but not least, we thank IMAGES and Prospectus News advisor; John Eby for all that he does for these publications. We would not be able to do what we do without him. images guidelines: Submissions are accepted from Parkland students registered during the 2011-2012 academic year. Interested students may submit a maximum of (6) works for consideration. A maximum of (3) works per artist will be selected. IMAGES staff members and judges may make the maximum number of submissions, but may neither promote nor judge their own entries.
Like us on Facebook at: facebook.com/pages/Images-student-art-magazine/155206121200271 For past IMAGES entries, check out imagesmag.tumblr.com
credits Art & Design Director
Burke Stanion
Production / Publication Advisor
John Eby
Judges
Benji Frazzetto Sean Hermann Tammala King Cathy Peters Shane Rogers Abriel Shipley Briana Stodden
Letterpress
Ghada Yousef
Champaign, Illinois Graphic Design
May 7– June 14, 2012 Reception: Thursday May 10 from 6pm–8pm Awards Ceremony at 7pm Musical performance by The Parkland Guitar Ensemble Art Gallery Talk with Paul Young, Professor of Graphic Design at Parkland College Wednesday June 13 from 10-11am
2400 West Bradley Avenue Champaign, Illinois 61821-1899 Gallery Office 217/351-2485 artgallery.parkland.edu Summer Gallery Hours Monday–Thursday 10am–7pm Closed May 28 in Observance of Memorial Day
To find the gallery when classes are in session, we suggest using the M6 parking lot on the north corner of the campus. Enter through any door and follow the ramps uphill to the highest point of the first floor, where the gallery is located. The gallery windows overlook the outdoor fountainarea. This program is partially supported by a grant from the Illinois Arts Council, a state agency.
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Simply Beautiful
Tammala King
Tolono, Illinois Photography
2
Candlelight
Angela Worman
Teutopolis, Illinois Photography
3
St. Louis
Cathy Peters
Monticello, Illinois Graphic Design
4
That’s No Moon Album Cover
Matthew Farrell Urbana, Illinois Graphic Design
5
Untitled
Brian Chilton
St. Joseph, Illinois 3D Digital
Jellyfish
Alisha Kirkley
Rantoul, Illinois Photography
6
Untitled
Kyle Dunn
Champaign, Illinois Photography
7
Playground
Angela Worman
Teutopolis, Illinois Photography
8
Tom Waits
Erik Meyer
Loda, Illinois Drawing
9
The Fear Of Family
Lisa Catrambone
Urbana, Illinois Painting
10
Ocean Avenue
Anna Longworth
St. Joseph, Illinois Photography
11
Blue Door
Lisa Catrambone
Urbana, Illinois Painting
12
Homeless
Vasudeva Pitta Urbana, Illinois Drawing
Summer In California
Jose Galue
Bloomington, Illinois 3D Digital
13
Capri
Xeromy Irani
Champaign, Illinois Photography
14
Lately
Thomas Atkins Urbana, Illinois Poetry
I was cutting in and out of the nights then, perpetually nocturnal. Pleased, at a distance. Yet so very astray. A restless infinity walking upright. I close my eyes and see the halos of bright lights burning. The great glowing electric hum of a city’s heartbreak. Endless houses, leaves, streets, trees, and the strange faces of those before and after my time. Tired and ragged concrete concealing its age in the shadows, looking for rest, hidden to the alleyways I tirelessly wandered.
I see limp plastic bags hanging from the limbs of trees. (like dead appendages) Naked bulbs hanging lazy on your porch, deep inside the murky blues of the night. These were the smoke soaked moments of endless possibility where our souls, confronted, dragged on fearlessly into the sunset. I’m still there when I think back to those nights. still aware to the irregularity of each step beneath my feet. still killing the ache, day by day. All I wanted was a silence that echoed.
See, time travel is easy... Though it’s hardest knowing not much has changed. Life for me lately has just been casting shadows, I feel so....more or less. Playing ear to the endless struggle of whirring lights and blurred faces; walking a labyrinth of lewd alley ways and vicious stairwells leading nowhere. All of it fueling the roving madness raging somewhere deep within. I’m standing unsure, yet smiling between these illusionist walls. Simply rolling with the current, biding my time.
Unrest me Take it with me Where ever I go, The day before has become today. Today I took myself Perhaps a little bit further, A joyride if you will. A ride just in my mind That I have done a million times, My body is unrest. Unrest me please Give my hands my thoughts, And take them with me.
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Unrest Me
Clayton Overstreet Champaign, Illinois Poetry
The World is Crashing All Around The world is crashing all around Treatment after treatment but there is no cure Will I help myself or someone else I may never know Keep your head up high they tell me But I don’t know why I’m too tired to continue the fight But I have to fight to the end For my daughters and all women in the world I’m an experiment sent from God Put here to do good and right for all women Keep my head up high they tell me Now I know why My life ending to find a cure Save another woman from this curse Every day I pray if there’s no cure before I go I might help find the cure for another woman I’m fighting the fight To save the next life Kick this curse to the curb Dedicated to all the women who have or is fighting breast cancer especially my mother Relda McConnell and my aunt Paula Gibbons!!! The World Is Crashing
Lisa Madden
Champaign, Illinois Poetry
16
Snake
Stewart Walker
Champaign, Illinois Painting
17
Dressing Up
Emily Sur
Champaign, Illinois Photography
18
AIGA Poster
Erik Meyer
Loda, Illinois Graphic Design
19
Me and My Guitar
Tammala King
Tolono, Illinois Photography
20
Untitled
Eric Inskip
Champaign, Illinois Drawing
21
Tree of Wonders
Lindsey Davis
Ogden, Illinois Photography
22
Untitled
Benji Frazzetto
Champaign, Illinois Graphic Design
23
Parkland Greeting Card
Cathy Peters
Monticello, Illinois Graphic Design
24
Self Portrait
Thomas Atkins Urbana, Illinois Painting
25
Brick Generation
David Klein II
Brocton, Illinois 3D Digital
26
Critter
Stewart Walker
Champaign, Illinois Painting
27
Mushrooms
Christopher Thomas Tuscola, Illinois 3D Digital
28
Soft Encounter
Emily Sur
Champaign, Illinois Photography
29
Holiday Card
Abriel Shipley
St. Joseph, Illinois Graphic Design
30
A Confused Man
Keisha Jackson
Champaign, Illinois Poetry
Never in my life Have I been so verbally and mentally abused Torn down to the floor By a man who is so confused
Feeling like a helpless boy Trapped in a grown man’s body Addicted to alcohol & drugs But ashamed to admit it to anybody.
Sick of being mistreated Due to one man’s own mistakes Too much pride to admit to his faults So he’d rather place the blame
Insecure, angry, and unhappy He feels there’s no way out Will vent to anyone who’ll listen to him To help validate his doubts.
A malicious mom to add on To the problems he already has Brainwashed & manipulated Convinced that everything good is bad.
Provokes the family to anger Kids but mainly his wife Tries to make her look bad To avoid changing his life.
It all started from childhood His first impression of a mother A subconscious hatred for women For being raised by his brother
He hears voices from God Saying son just come to me But every time he tries to make one step forward He gets blocked by the enemy.
He too was abused Misconception for the meaning of love Beat down by his step father Because he forgot to give his mother a hug
Prayer is the only thing that can change him Because the clock is winding down At the end of the day, they’ll be a price to pay And no one will be around
Lied to about his own identity Of not knowing his REAL dad Attempted suicide by overdosing on pills Because his mother had him misled.
Momma can’t save his soul No person can make him whole Will be faced with the decisions he made in life Cs God’s word Is what matters the most
She manipulated him then Still deceptive even now He wants to break the chain But he doesn’t know how Lacked his mother’s care As a young child Still longing for her touch So now as a grown man Any attention is sufficient enough
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Such a vicious cycle Of a generational curse not left behind Hard for the man to make rational decisions Because he battles in his mind If he ever yields What a great story he’d have to tell But which one will he choose Heaven or hell?
As we journey along the path of life the road seems long. There are many challenges and hurdles to endure that we aren’t sure where we belong. Opportunities come in all sizes that we can embrace. Everyone is searching for answers as we all run in the same race. Life hold’s the keys to our dreams in which we must unlock. Some will search their whole life to fit in, yet feel life is a road block. Can the answers to life’s questions be found in the deepest reservoirs of our hearts? Maybe if we just embark upon our day with a positive affirmation as it starts. Who would think positive self talk could strengthen our day. We don’t have yesterday or tomorrow but, we can make the most of today. Everyone in the world is special and is a true gift. Our qualities and talents can be shared with one another to give us a lift. The most expensive gift can’t
seem to buy happiness. So the best gift one can give is time to another which brings joy full of bliss. What is the most important thing everyone wants in life, it is to be loved. So many search for so long for what would make us happy and we all long to be moved. The sparks of a new romance take us emotionally to a place of power. We all want that feeling to last a lifetime and not go sour. Every day there is an opening to learn something new. Embrace each days new lessons it offers like the fresh morning dew. Nestled deep within our souls we must be true to us. As no one else will cherish the beauty within us. You never need to look farther than your own mirror for success. I am going to tell you that YOU are the Secret to Success. Secret To Success
Monica Gresian-Brewer Penfield, Illinois Poetry
32
Sunlight Rain
Emily Sur
Champaign, Illinois Photography
33
DasBoot
Scott Sheltra
Rome, New York Other (Sculpture, Metal, etc.)
34
Brink
Erik Inskip
Champaign, Illinois Photography
35
D.J. Belly Logo
Matthew Farrell Urbana, Illinois Graphic Design
Cards
Angela Worman
Teutopolis, Illinois Photography
36
Fireball
Robert Humphrey Sadorus, Illinois Graphic Design
37
Horror Movie Clip
Dusten Jenkins
Champaign, Illinois Photography
MegamanX
Jose Galue
Bloomington, Illinois 3D Digital
38
Untitled
Erin Zaloudek Loda, Illinois Painting
39
Untitled
Hyun Jong Yoo
Champaign, Illinois Photography
40
It’s A Classic
Julia Beemsterboer Champaign, Illinois Photography
41
O-Town
Lindsey Davis
Ogden, Illinois Photography
42
ABC’s Letter Design
Sabreen Judeh
Rockford, Illinois Graphic Design
43
Untitled
Kyle Dunn
Champaign, Illinois Photography
44
Gig Poster
Matthew Farrell Urbana, Illinois Graphic Design
45
Untitled
Brian Chilton
St. Joseph, Illinois 3D Digital
Untitled
Lisa Catrambone
Urbana, Illinois Painting
46
Sunlight & Nectar
Heather Owen
Champaign, Illinois Poetry
There’s a garden, where a rare flower grows. It can thrive… without the warmth of the sun’s light; or ever being kissed by the rain. Yet it wonders about the other flowersand longs to be the same. How glorious would it be? To feel the sun shining upon it’s leaves. Or to have its thirst quenched… by the sweet nectar of the rain. Though it can grow and survivewithout these essential things. Just imagine; how it would flourish in a day. If it were to ever feel the sun’s rays… or taste the sweet nectar of the rain. If only the gardener could see… his little flower’s plea; with, out stretched leavesattempting to touch the warm sunlight, that the day time brings.
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Or it’s roots surfacing… with every fresh drop of rain. Desperate to taste it’s sweet nectar. The little flower wonders… what would the gardener do? If only he knew… how his little flowerlonged to be like all the rest. Would he pull its roots ; from the cold, dry, desolate place? So the little flower could tastethe sweet nectar of the rain. And feel the warmth of the sun’s rays. Or would he ignore the little flower’s pleato taste the sweet nectar of the rain. Or feel the warmth of the sun’s ray’s… that the day time brings.
Daddy, Daddy I need you Why have you forsaken me? Mom woke me up this morning Fixed me breakfast And you weren’t there to take me to school. Daddy, Daddy I want to talk to you What did I do wrong? I long for your touch And for you to converse with me And you won’t even pick up the phone. Daddy, Daddy I need some advice Why can’t you be my friend? Of course you’re a parent who also reprimands But they both go hand in hand Daddy, Daddy I pray for you Why won’t you come through? When two people break up Is an unfortunate deal But neglecting a child’s not the right thing to do Rose
Julie Peak
St. Joseph, Illinois Poetry
Once a small existence; A simple life of trivial woes Blossomed into extreme resistance, Against all odds and fearsome foes With fearless and incorruptible strength Unending courage and undying will, Strive to do what’s right at any length Only to see it through until all is still Through many trials and troubles Wading through fear and pain The true gift of love doubles Realizing just how much there was to gain
Daddy, daddy I hope for you Will you ever let go of your pride? It hurts so badly That you’re not in my life But I try hard to keep it inside. Well daddy I can’t make you spend time with me I have no more questions to ask But when I grow up And have a kid of my own I’ll be the best parent than any child’s ever had. Daddy, Daddy
Keisha Jackson
Champaign, Illinois Poetry
48
Imagine
Jose Galue
Bloomington, Illinois 3D Digital
Prescribed Burn
Jessica Harbison LeRoy, Illinois Photography
49
Birds For James
Xeromy Irani
Champaign, Illinois Photography
50
Money!
David Hohulin
Gibson City, Illinois Photography
51
Laser Pointer
David Klein II
Brocton, Illinois 3D Digital
52
XXI Stones N.P.O. Project
Jordan Z. Peoples Savoy, Illinois 3D Digital
53
Henna Package Design
Sabreen Judeh
Rockford, Illinois Graphic Design
54
Coby on Winter Break
Hillary Lauren Seattle, Illinois 3D Digital
55
Young Lady
Vasudeva Pitta
Urbana, Illinois Painting
56
Every Last Drop
Natalie Fiol
Champaign, Illinois Graphic Design
57
Never Forgotten
Crystal Day
Gibson City, Illinois Photography
58
Untitled
Benji Frazzetto
Champaign, Illinois Graphic Design
59
Untitled
Kyle Dunn
Champaign, Illinois Photography
60
Roses are Red
Briana Kay Stodden Champaign, Illinois Photography
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Fitz And The Dizzyspells
Anna Longworth
St. Joseph, Illinois Photography
62
Why not get back up after he’s beaten me? I mean I’ve been beaten before and let’s not forget that I still have tons of work around the house to get done and I know if I lay here to long it’ll only upset him again. Ain’t no point in crying, because I know he really doesn’t like to hurt me he just can’t help it sometimes. His job is so demanding not to mention he’s had a few drinks tonight plus let’s not forget the abusive father and drunken neglectful mother. His uncontrollable anger is not his fault... right? He never means it. That’s what he tells me every time and I have to believe it....right? It’s just the stress. I know he doesn’t want me to add extra stress. I already know
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he can’t handle that. This isn’t the first time, but maybe, just maybe it could be the last....right? He loves me, it’s just that sometimes my questions upset him, especially if he’s had a rough day or already in a bad mood. I already know that when he has a lot on his mind to just stay away say nothing and do nothing “stupid,” as he calls it. I wouldn’t want to make him angry. So I need to get up and go wipe my face. But I must remember not to look too put together because I wouldn’t want him to think I didn’t learn a lesson from his rage. If I show him that I’m sorry for making him upset then maybe this really will be the last time.... right? I need to think of an
apology and quick. I wouldn’t dare want him to think that I’m not truly sorry. That would be really bad. Maybe I could say “Sorry for asking you what you wanted for dinner,” in my most regretful tone, “I know you say you don’t care what I cook but I just thought you might want something specific and I didn’t want to upset you by not checking to make sure that wasn’t the case.” then I can add “I just want to make you happy.” Its true really, I just want to make him happy. Yes, that should be an acceptable apology but I can’t do it yet. I have to start cooking or he’ll get pissed off all over again. I’ll do it once the food is done, that way he won’t be able to snap about his dinner still not being ready.
I am already late starting it because of the fighting, and it’s really my fault for making him mad....right? I know better than to ever question anything about him but sometimes, just sometimes, I wonder why things have to be this way. Why is my good never good enough? I mean I know he loves me, if he didn’t he wouldn’t care so much about my every move.... right? He wouldn’t always want me home and he wouldn’t always sound so jealous every time I tell him about my day. Jealousy is the biggest sign of him loving me....right? But why does he have to smack me to the ground or kick me and leave bruises? Why does he have to be so insecure? But no, I must not question his love. I
know he loves me. He tells me all the time that he could never live without me, that he would never live without me. That’s love....right? He tells me that him even thinking of me being with another man would kill him … or he’d kill me. I know he doesn’t really mean that part...right? No, he loves me and I know he does. He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with and he’s all I know. I know you’re thinking god she’s so dumb how can she be with a guy like that? I used to hear about girls who were with guys who hit them and thought that I could never be that stupid. But now I understand them, it’s not stupidity when you love him....right? Well I love him and he wasn’t always this way.
He just has so much baggage from his childhood. What type of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t help him overcome it? He’s not all bad and when he is bad it’s not his fault its mine. I know what makes him angry I just have to remember what buttons not to push. This will all get better if I just be careful not to make him upset. I just have to always make sure that he’s in a good mood and if he’s not I have to try and figure out how to get him in a better mood. Yes, that is all I need to do...right? Our love is the real deal....right? Yes, this has to be true love...right?
True Love Right
Alexis Roberts
Champaign, Illinois Poetry
64
Shattered Nightmare
Dusten Jenkins
Champaign, Illinois Photography
65
Shure Performance
Briana Kay Stodden
Champaign, Illinois Photography
66
Walkin On The Bridge
Joe Asselin
Champaign, Illinois Photography
67
I Killed The South; The South Killed Me
Morgan Bernier Mahomet, Illinois Drawing
68
Father
Hillary Lauren
Seattle, Washington 3D Digital
69
Wet Leaf
Alisha Kirkley
Rantoul, Illinois Photography
70
Illinois Renaissance
Cathy Peters
Monticello, Illinois Graphic Design
71
Between Sunset And Dusk
Joe Asselin
Champaign, Illinois 3D Digital
72
The Guitarist
Scott Sheltra
Rome, New York Other (Sculpture, Metal, etc.)
73
Cigarette
Briana Kay Stodden
Champaign, Illinois Photography
74
Untitled
Jessica Harbison LeRoy, Illinois Photography
75
Abandoned Drive-In Theater
Jason Pethtel
Champaign, Illinois 3D Digital
76
Spring in bloom
Heather Owen
Champaign, Illinois Photography
James Blunt
Kathryn Miller
Champaign, Illinois Drawing
77
Beats Antique
Abriel Shipley
St. Joseph, Illinois Graphic Design
78
Time
Julie Peak
St. Joseph, Illinois Poetry
Away it flies Consuming all behind the lies Come to me, for I cannot be Anymore Its close friend quite empty and blackened A few orbs and materia beyond man So complete and large abnormal sand They, so complete and porcelain fraction Incomplete and displaced Throughout the indifferent visions of light Ether, that of the weathered night Yet together; forever bound So different but all the same Always with one can both be found Together until the end of the game So pleased is she, for it bothers her so For space knows never to go He is forbidding, consequence fallen So together, they are to never be forgotten
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We have yet to learn forgiveness A gesture we sometimes lack Please allow me to express myself In a theoretical poetic act. This is a question That has been posed By many who are hurt? Try to read between the lines As I put this in rhyming words How can I forgive someone? Who treated me so bad? Called me out of my name Made me feel so sad. How can I forgive the friend? Who talk about me every chance they get Laugh in front of my face Then backstab me at the drop of a hat How can I forgive a family member? Who would leave me out in the cold? Steal my money to get high off drugs & alcohol Take my clothes, silver and gold. How can I forgive the man? Who raped me, beat me, and
tried to sabotage my soul Verbally, mentally, emotionally abused me While battling with myself to keep it all in A story untold. How can I forgive the spouse? Who would break my heart then claim to try to fix it Reel me in again say they love me Just to intentionally break my spirit How can I forgive the criminal? Who killed my mother, father, sister, brother? Never said sorry And will do it to another. Hmmm! Well I don’t quite know how to answer these questions My first reaction is to run There is so much doubt of what to say But here is my response. I can’t justify that behavior And I can’t take away nor heal your pain But one thing I know with unforgiving There is nothing to gain.
I suggest that you pray Every single day People can’t give you direction But God will definitely show you the way. Get into the word So you can learn how others got through Seek the voice from God So HE can tell you what to do. Then I want you to think of this Remember when the Pharisees killed Jesus He was an innocent man He didn’t say or do anything wrong But the blood was on his hands Jesus didn’t have to do it But HE did so that you and I would have life They scorned him, beat him, spit on him AND pierced him in the side. So with all that our God has given And he did with such great passion Forgive everyone for all that they’ve done So our father will forgive us our trespasses as it is in heaven. Forgiveness
Keisha Jackson
Champaign, Illinois Poetry
80
Rope Fight
Gloria Winchester-O’Brien Sidney, Illinois Photography
81
Fade
Alisha Kirkley
Rantoul, Illinois Photography
82
Gatlin F.O.B.
Jordan Z. Peoples Savoy, Illinois 3D Digital
83
Uriel
Hillary Lauren
Seattle, Illinois 3D Digital
84
Post Harvest
Dusten Jenkins
Champaign, Illinois Photography
85
Untitled
Jessica Harbison LeRoy, Illinois Photography
86
Flowing
Julia Beemsterboer Champaign, Illinois Photography
87
Strong and Fragile
Taryn Smith
Farmer City, Illinois Photography
88
Always Wishing
Joe Asselin
Champaign, Illinois 3D Digital
89
Water
David Hohulin
Gibson City, Illinois Photography
90
The General Specific
Anna Longworth
St. Joseph, Illinois Photography
91
Road To The Old Elevator
Taryn Smith
Farmer City, Illinois Photography
92
Logo Design Royal Hookah
Sabreen Judeh
Rockford, Illinois Graphic Design
93
Upon A Spark. Speed Paint
Jordan Z. Peoples Savoy, Illinois 3D Digital
Untitled
Vasudeva Pitta
Urbana, Illinois Drawing
94
Plunder Machine
Clayton Overstreet Champaign, Illinois Poetry
I am the Ghost Rider My mind is on fire And my skull is a blaze It is the night that brings about my change. I am the Ghost Writer My pen is dripping And my hand is stiff It is the words that I cannot forget. I am the Phantom Mister My life is his
And my actions are mine It is watching me all the time. I am the Thunder Clock My time is late And my date is wrong It is the Koo-Koo that keeps me strong. I am the Plunder Machine My course is unknown And my damage is free It is the leftovers that I do not care to see.
Adventure In this world; Things don’t always go as planned There are many ups and downs But when in need there’s someone to lend a hand We’ve been to every town And many a distant land No matter where we go And everywhere we’ve been The one thing I do know Through all the sights to have seen Together close we did grow And with many a shoulder to
lean I’m dependent on you so Through many tiring trials And even many a test Never any grave denials Because together we’re the best We traveled an infinite number of miles And prevailed in every quest Now to face the ultimate test Withstand the futures course The paved path leads to the west Together we journey and carry no remorse Adventure
Julie Peak
St. Joseph, Illinois Poetry
95
Torn and Scorn
Amy Pape
Savoy, Illinois Poetry
Acquiescence me in tidal tarn Waves rampant as nadirs Despondency and precariousness Rolling across frontiers Vulnerable like a flower Wildering in the sun Love hath left turpitude Impartial not to love the ton
Ike ant spell well. Wuhn re-son iscus, Welkus Ike ant reed. Ike ant reed well. Spell chech Kilta jineration -internet junkie Spellcheck
Eric Inskip
Champaign, Illinois Poetry
96
Uphill Pathway in Spring
Taryn Smith
Farmer City, Illinois Photography
97
Untitled
Hyun Jong Yoo
Champaign, Illinois Photography
98
Nature’s Teardrops
Heather Owen
Champaign, Illinois Photography
99
Untitled
Benji Frazzetto
Champaign, Illinois Graphic Design
100
Lily
Erin Zaloudek Loda, Illinois Drawing
101
Good Ol Midwest
Zachary Johnson Atwood, Illinois Photography
102
Zombie
Tammala King Tolono, Illinois Photography
103
Alone
Julia Beemsterboer Champaign, Illinois Photography
104
Untitled
Erin Zaloudek Loda, Illinois Painting
105
Tea
Ghada Yousef
Champaign, Illinois Graphic Design
106
Memories
Crystal Day
Gibson City, Illinois Photography
107
Bashful Ewe
Abriel Shipley
St. Joseph, Illinois Graphic Design
108
Untitled
Hyun Jong Yoo
Champaign, Illinois Photography
109
Country Girls Peace
Jessica Laley
Tuscola, Illinois Photography
110
CHAPTER ONE The casino was packed with people, alcohol and air – filled with the swirling smoke from countless cigarettes. Jack looked around the room, through the grey mist until he saw what he came here to do. A roulette wheel stood at a far back corner of the room, no one was close to it. Jack approached the wheel. He rubbed his finger on the edge, which parted the river of dust that collected on the mahogany surface. This being one of those self-serve roulette machines, Jack inserted his last two chips from his coat pocket, entered in his bet and touched the green button. Jack could hear the gears and cranks of the wheel, awakening from their deep slumber. Jack winced as the wheel took its sweet time gathering enough speed for one full rotation. After the first rotation, an obvious decrease in speed was made and the machine just stopped. Jack hit the wheel. The machine spit out his two chips. A message on the touch screen display had the message of: “invalid currency.” Jack tried all the coins he had in his pocket: dimes, quarters, nickels, even pennies and a single half-dollar he saved for special occasions. None of the coins worked, not even any bills he managed to hold on to were working. Jack kicked the wheel with his feet, crying at the circumstance rather than the pain he should have felt in his big toe. He carelessly rubbed his foot and then kicked it again. He kept kicking it, until the machine started to spark and smoke. With no one stopping Jack’s rampage, he continued his assault on the machine. Jack looked around; his breathing became erratic and heavy. Everyone seemed to be in their own world, each person staring intently at each other as if trying to pierce the walls of another person’s psyche. Then Jack realized that’s all they were doing.
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No one had their hands on any machines, no levers were being pulled, no shuffling of cards. The room was completely silent, except for the hum of the lights. There was no staff there, cheating had been eliminated in the last century. So, bouncers were no longer needed. Jack left the casino, hands in his pockets – playing with his chips – his back staring at the casino. A casino that knew just the kind of man Jack was and used that knowledge to deny him simple satisfaction. Jack left the parking lot, depressed and itching to not win, but just relieve this built-up stress that had been accumulating for months. He just moved here from another country for reasons he’d rather keep a secret. It wasn’t a choice, though, it was a demand. A demand that involved the rest of his life and one that would’ve been solved with a bullet in his brain, if he did not agree. Jack was on his way to his new place of employment, and he was already seven hours early. When someone is blackmailing you with murdering their son it’s better to be safe than sorry. His frantic running began to slow down when he glanced down at the time. He swear he heard it laugh. The light from the moon was still high above the hills; the sun still missing in action. All the people go nowadays was sunshine. Filtered through layers of thick smog and grey clouds, spraying bullets of water down on the people of the once great city. When Jack went to the local fast food burger joint, the last thing he expected was for it to be closed. In fact, every place of business seemed to either be closed or have a strange sign that said “back in five”. On top of that all the signs looked the same. What the hell is going on here? Jack thought, walking along the abandoned street. A few minutes passed by with no interruptions, until a strange homeless-looking man
jingled his cup of change. Jack stopped, rather than walking on like everybody else when faced with the option of helping a homeless person. “Where is everybody?” “Gambling problem?” the man asked. “How did you? Wait, don’t tell me, I just told you, right?” “No, most people don’t carry around poker chips in here. There’s no need for ‘em. Which means, you’re probably new around here, ain’tcha?” “I am but, this place is full of casinos. I mean I’ve never been in one, yet, but I would imagine they use poker chips.” “If only it were that simple. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going. I suggest you do the same, before things turn ugly ‘round here.” “Alright?” Jack continued along the street, kicking a small pebble with every step. Jack was a few feet away, when he heard a gunshot. He turned around and saw a person stood over him, a smoking gun in hand, and aimed at the now bleeding homeless man. He slouched there, in a pool of his own blood. Jack rushed over, but the person ran down a nearby alley. Jack stared down the dark alley, then looked back at the man. The man coughed up blood. Jack went over to him and carried him over his shoulder. A car drove down the road. Jack stood in the middle of the street, waving his hands to get the driver’s attention. The wheels squealed, leaving skid Jacks on the patch of road behind it. The windows lowered, Hanna sat behind the wheel. She looked at Jack and then the bloody mess on his shoulder. Her eyes were as lifeless as the mans. “Hanna, what are you doing here?” “I said I needed to see someone” Now my question for you is: why are helping him?” “He got shot, can’t you tell.” “I know, I’m the one who shot him.” The life drained from Jack’s face. The man on his shoulders did the same.
Frank leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head with a devilish grin on his scar bearing face. The phone rang, which he did not answer even though he knew who was calling. People didn’t call Frank, he call the people. They were on his schedule, not the other way around. After a few minutes, Frank decided to call the person back, if nothing else than to give him a piece of his mind. When Frank gave someone a piece of his own mind, quite literally would often end with that person’s brains all over the floor. Frank, however, wouldn’t be the one to pull the trigger. He had people for that. Hell he had a whole country at his disposal willing to do whatever he asked on the push of a button. After the phone rang and went to voicemail, Frank said the words: “Your next target is the Police chief” into the phone, which in turn would be held in her voicemail until she listened to his non-optional request. Frank smiled at his handy work. An entire country doing what he wants them to. Who ever said gambling was a sin, clearly had never played Frank’s own version of traditional gambling. If they had, then they wouldn’t be alive to say anything. Either that or they would have no free will. He couldn’t contain his excitement. He wanted his plan to kick into high gear right away, but knew if that many people died in one day, people would get suspicious. Even killing an entire neighborhood was a bit ballsy, but it was nothing a little fictional mass murdering psychopath couldn’t fix. He could see the newscast now, the one about a mass murderer in town. Police would no doubt get suspicious and would find out that it was in fact neighbors murdering neighbors. Frank had an ace up his sleeve, if it came to that. Having someone you know on the inside is always a good strategy to emplore.
Mercenary Gambling
Michael Bergonzi
Champaign, Illinois Literature (Short Story)
112
Mad Dash
Jessica Laley
Tusocla, Illinois Photography
113
Headlights
Xeromy Irani
Champaign, Illinois Photography
114
Bridge through the Woods
Jessica Laley
Tuscola, Illinois Photography
115
Frozen Steps
Crystal Day
Gibson City, Illinois Photography
116
Fence
David Hohulin
Gibson City, Illinois Photography
117
P A R K L A N D
C O L L E G E
GRAPHIC DES IG N ! ITION STUDENT JURIED EXHIB
Graphic Web Motion
CALL FOR ENTRIES DEADLINE: APRIL 17, 2012
.EDU/SH OW ENTRY FORM AND RULES: GDS.PA RKLAND
Call for Entries
Ghada Yousef
Champaign, Illinois Graphic Design
118
Wagon of Hay
Lindsey Davis Ogden, Illinois Photography
119
Special Segment
Surgical Tech Student Poetry Words, Images, technical skills,and self expression combine in this special section of IMAGES 2012. For the first time, we re including expressions by students in a specific program of study. In future editions of IMAGES we hope to do the same. The following poems were written as part of a class assignment for students in a program, that we know demands precision, and dependability. Students learn to work with great care under extreme pressures. Most might not consider it a program that inspires creativity and introspection, leading to overt artistic expression. However, the assignment assists these students in clarifying their felings, understanding their stressors, and developing strength that make them the best they can possibly be. Parkland College Surgical Technology students reflected on their first days in an operating room with doctors working on real patients, with dramatic risks and life-changing outcomes. These poems and pictures capture those first days.
120
Beep beep beep… It’s 4:30 already! Slowly make my way out of bed Heart racing Mind spinning as I make my way to the hospital Strip down, throw on scrubs Grabbing shoe covers and a hair net Ready or Not It is time to leave the locker room Waiting nervously for my case to start Here we go They just brought the patient in Time to scrub… If I remember how Everyone is ready Tech said it is all mine Scrubbed In
Ashley Campbell
Mahomet, Illinois Poetry - Surgical Tech
121
Center stage Under the bright lights Feeling good in action Patient can feel pain Need more Lidocaine Surgeon comforting the patient Then back to work Few bloody raytex here and there Time for closing count and finishing up I did it, this is what I want to do Nice job, keep up the good work 3 o’clock time to go home Leaving more confident
I jump out of bed thinking I’m late Just to find out that I’m not needing to be in a freaked out state Feeling sick to my stomach and feeling unprepared I jump in my car to head to the first clinical of my career Down the interstate I go getting more and more nervous I park my car and open the door and walk with another student that’s just as anxious With worry on both of our faces we dress in our scrubs, hair nets, and shoe covers We walk through the OR doors to see what it uncovers
Instantly the nerves calm down a little and we all smile and we are sent to our rooms to sort our pulled items pile Just like in the classroom I felt comfortable and at ease In the OR it feels like where I was meant to be Even though the most the material was foreign I had confidence that I could learn them Just like the morning the day had went fast Feeling silly about what I felt earlier that morning and glad that it didn’t last Adrian Young
Poetry - Surgical Tech
The clock is ticking I wake up at 3 AM thinking I am going to be late, I feel anxious and I can’t go back to sleep. It is dark outside, I run to catch the shuttle and arrive early to clinical. As I walk to the locker room I notice there is no noise in the hospital. I change into my scrubs and wait for my classmates to arrive. The clock is ticking I arrive to the operating room and I am there by myself for about 15 minutes. My surgical technician arrives and welcomes me. I help set up the Mayo stand and back-table everything feels so familiar yet I am so afraid of doing something wrong. I count instruments, sponges and other items I have all these numbers in my head and I am
trying to stay focus. The surgeon enters the room and does the timeout as I assist him to get gown and glove, everyone is moving in different directions and I am trying to keep up with them. The clock is ticking Before I realize everybody is ready for the patient and my heart is beating fast. The procedure begins and everything makes sense now. Everything flows smoothly during the procedure and I feel a little more relax. Both of my teachers congratulate me and tell me how good I did. I feel accomplished and as I walk towards the locker room I hear many conversations. The day is bright; the clock is ticking and its time to go home. Maria Sanchez
Poetry - Surgical Tech
122
I looked at the clock 4:30 AM I CAN’T DO THIS! Hop in the shower Hope for a surge of power I CAN’T DO THIS! Jump in the car My stomach anything but settled by far. I CANT DO THIS! Take that long walk My heart pounding like a rock. I CAN’T DO THIS!! My legs feel like jello Everyone’s telling me hello. I CAN’T DO THIS!!!! In the room room I go Gotta get started I know. OH MY GOSH I CAN’T DO THIS! The doc can get sorta fiesty and curse Says the circulating nurse. We’ll tell him play nice Now time to open supplies. OH NO I REALLY CAN’T DO THIS! At about 9 o’clock In walks the doc. My tech says you can gown and glove him. OH MAN I CANNOT DO THIS!!! Anesthesia says she’s out It’s time to begin no doubt. Got my meds in my cup I take a big gulp. Knife I hear the doc say. I CAN’T DO THIS! I Can’t Do This!
Amanda Prahl
Poetry - Surgical Tech
123
I pass it precise He makes his first slice I breathe and hand him the trocar. Everyone is chatting away I start to pray, Dear God please help me thru this! We repeat the process I really must digress My gut doesn’t feel such a mess! HEY MAYBE I CAN DO THIS! The procedure moves along I hand him something resembling tongs I’M STARTING TO FEEL SOME CONFIDENCE! Out come the tongs Bringing something along Here comes this ladies gall bladder. Looking slimy and greenish I can’t believe I don’t feel squeemish SUCCESS! OH YES I CAN DO THIS!!!! We put it in a cup The doc tells the other tech close her up. He looks my way and says great job. I feel elated, Can’t believe I ever hesitated Because I know, I CAN DO THIS!!
124
First step in room 4, it was empty. They said it would be cold, I was hot. People started to enter, I got shy. All I could do was stare, listen, anticipate what’s next and smile to remind myself I can do this. I get up to the field, tense and nervous. Trying to listen to what’s going on over my loud thoughts. Emily Anderson
Poetry - Surgical Tech
125
I can do this. I pass the scalpel, my shoulders relax a little. I can do this. Pass the second instrument. I really can do this. All I could do was stare, listen, anticipate what’s next and smile because I’m doing this.
I’m in my room; the alarms beeping loudly, my eyes opened wide greeted by the darkness, and cold, and unseen. I slowly rise. Pushing my fears down, I move forward
After waking up every hour, 4:45 finally arrives. I hop out of bed The words “make sure you eat a good breakfast” fly through my head The 15 minute drive seems to take a lifetime I think about everything I am going to encounter the in next 8 hours I am so not ready for this Employees joke when dressing for the day They are crazy for being so relaxed at a time like this I am given my task and look for my case I can’t find it, my day is ruined. My tech finds me and tells me to open my supplies I drop the telfa on the ground This day can’t get any worse. I manage to set up the back table, the patient arrives What am I getting myself in to? Time to start the case, now where is the knife? A few clamps and retractors are passed “Now, that’s not too bad!” I gain my confidence as the case comes to an end “Good Job” says my tech, I smile back at her Ha, I knew I could do this! Time for my next case Great, I am so not ready for this….
Arriving at the hospital, finding my way around. I change into scrubs, tying my shoes- i’m ready to go. Advancing through the doors but can’t remember taking a single step. I slowly rise. Pushing my fears down, I move forward I’m in the OR room; the alarms beeping loudly, my eyes opened wide greeted by the brightness, and cold, and unknown. I slowly rise. Pushing my fears down, I move forward Knife-Crile-Crile; the surgeons words break through my thoughts and my hand reacts. Nervous, but ready, I pass one after the other and soon the final suture is done- the day is over! The alarms are quiet, my eyes closed tight; success, I made it. Michael Kelly
Poetry - surgical tech
Sarah Bane
Poetry - surgical tech
126
Journal #2 Sur 132 I wake up at 4:30 am so excited for my first day of clinical Too early to eat I grab a granola bar and head out the door still excited and not nervous Driving into the parkland lot I feel my heart beginning to beating faster Said to myself this is it, you can go this Walking through the hospital door I walk to the stairs to go to the first floor Looking at multiple doors trying to remember which door is the locker room After getting changed I head to Room 4 My heart beating fast and begin to feel nervous for the first time Begin to freak out forgetting what to do next, do I wear a mask even though I’m not opening sterile supplies yet If I put one on and I don’t have to will the others laugh at me My surgical technologist walks into the room to greet me Stephanie Melchi
Poetry - surgical tech
127
She seems very friendly and fun to be around my heart begins to slow down again, I can do this Then everyone starts getting made about the plans for the day and start yelling, my heart begins to speed up again, and thinking to myself CAN I DO THIS?? The surgeon walks in I grab his gown and gloves and flies through that smoothly, and the Surg Tech walks me to the Mayo stand. Looking at the instruments I recognized every one of them. My confidence comes back, I CAN DO THIS! The surgery is over before I know it After the case the surgeon and employees said “Great Job” At the end of the day I walk back to the locker room to change to go home feeling a lot more relaxed and achieved The excitement about this career came back and could not wait to get more experience in this amazing career!
They are fast and constant with sterilizing, and loading instruments but it is almost a blur. A dream of where I really am The walls and floors are neutral and the air is so cold. Am I alive in here? Where is the breeze that is full of life? Cold, lifeless, and numbing That is how I feel when I touch base with reality in the operating room.
My first time brought a fear in me. How can I prosper in a career that produces uncertainties? Than a fear arises submitting me into complete action to follow through‌. follow through with my surroundings. I hear the surgeon: crile, forcep as I process the information I hear beeps that seem to prolong the silence. I then say to myself a mountain is never too high
for me to climb. As well as, anything worth fighting for is worth having. My first drive brought me something to look back on even though I am afraid of the unknown I am stronger than I believe, and even when I thought I was claming up I gloved the doctor like a pro.
Mary Fuesting
Poetry - Surgical Tech
128
index
129
Asselin, Joe
—
70, 75, 92
Laley, Jessica
—
113, 116, 118
Anderson, Emily
—
128
Lauren, Hillary
—
58, 72, 87
Atkins, Thomas
—
18, 28
Longworth, Anna
—
14, 65, 94
Bane, Sarah
—
129
Madden, Lisa
—
19
Beemsterboer, Julia
—
44, 90, 107
Melchi, Stephanie
—
130
Bergonzi, Michael
—
115
Meyer, Erik
—
12,22
Bernier, Morgan
—
71
Miller, Kathryn
—
80
Campbell, Ashley
—
124
Owen, Heather
—
50, 80, 102
Catrambone, Lisa
—
13, 15, 49,
Overstreet, Clayton
—
18, 98
Chilton, Brian
—
9, 49
Pape, Amy
—
99
Day, Crystal
—
61, 110, 119
Peak, Julie
—
51, 82, 98
Davis, Lindsey
—
25, 45, 122
Peoples, Jordan Z
—
56, 86, 97
Dunn, Kyle
—
10, 47, 63
Peters, Cathy
—
7, 27, 74
Farrell, Matthew
—
8, 39, 48
Pethtel, Jason
—
79
Fiol, Natalie
—
60
Pitta, Vasudeva
—
16, 59, 97
Frazzetto, Benji
—
26, 62, 103
Prahl, Amanda
—
126
Fuesting, Mary
—
131
Roberts, Alexis
—
67
Galue, Jose
—
16, 41, 52
Sanchez, Maria
—
125
Gresian-Brewer, Monica —
35
Sheltra, Scott
—
37, 76
Harbison, Jessica
—
52
Shipley, Abriel
—
33, 81, 111
Hohulin, David
—
54, 93, 120
Smith, Taryn
—
91, 95, 100
Humphrey, Robert
—
40
Stodden, Briana Kay
—
64, 69, 77
Inskip, Eric
—
24, 38, 99
Sur, Emily
—
32
Irani, Xeromy
—
17, 53, 117
Thomas, Christopher
—
31
Jackson, Keisha
—
34, 51, 83
Walker, Stewart
—
20, 30
Jenkins, Dusten
—
41, 68, 88
Winchester-Obrien, Gloria
84
Johnson, Zachary
—
105
Worman, Angela
—
6, 11, 39
Judeh, Sabreen
—
46, 56, 96
Yoo, Hyun Jong
—
43, 101, 112
Kelly, Michael
—
129
Young, Adrian
—
125
King, Tammala
—
5, 23, 106
Yousef, Ghada
—
4, 109, 121
Kirkley, Alisha
—
9, 85, 73
Zaloudek, Erin
—
42, 104, 108
Klein II, David
—
29, 55
131