VISUALIZE
Table of Contents
4 Ana Baird
18 Candy Olberding
32 An Nguyen
Sunflower
Copper Red
Lux
5 Lauren Kudera
19 Dylan Miller
34 Candy Olberding
Frozen in Time
King Kong
Temoku
5 Audra Bintz
19 Zoë Williams
34 Dylan Miller
Energy
THE Magazine
Ampersand
6 Julia Porzner
20 Sean Mennell
35 Audra Bintz
Cry
Untitled
Color Study
7 Zoë Williams Dr. Strange
20 Cameron Sticka Wretched
35 Candy Olberding Leaf Bowl
8 Becci Harrington
21 Matthew Dillon
American Typewriter
Awake
36 Danielle Turner 20 Minute Pose
9 Darby Clark & Juan Alvarez
21 Nick Palmer
Record Deal
Potato Omelette
38 Ana Baird Enchanted Apples
10 Cassie Capellen
22 Marsha Stewart
Baby & Me
Sleeping Dove
39 Zoë Williams The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
11 Michala Drum Gazing
22 Zoë Williams
40 Taylor Schultz
12 Nikayla Cooper Yummy Complimentary Colors
23 Candy Olberding Copper Red Temoku
40 Jodene Pappenfort
12 Zoë Williams
26 Michala Drum
Lone Mountain Architects
Playful
41 Cameron Sticka Terror King
13 Candy Olberding
27 Julia Porzner
Ceramic Plate II
Swirl
41 Zoë Williams Skull Study
14 Becci Harrington Greece
27 Daniel Sullivan Odds & Ends
42 Michala Drum Emperor’s New Clothes
15 Danielle Turner
28 Ana Baird
The Hit Girl
Cold & Bored
42 Mallory Schenach 4x4 Poster
16 Zoë Williams
28 Cassie Capellen
Best Friends
Orchestra Program
43 Cameron Sticka
16 Jess Bakken
29 An Nguyen
Ice
Touch the Sky
17 Jessica Goodwin Greenough Lake
30 Jodene Pappenfort Pet Personified
45 Darby Clark Illustration
30 Cameron Sticka Ode to Lovecraft
46 Benny Dial
Coralsand
31 Becci Harrington Vespa
Explore MarkerRender
Majestic Burger Triptych
44 Dylan Miller Woods
Geiko
VISUALIZE
46 Candy Olberding Ceramic Plate I
54 Marsha Stewart Heavenly Church
63 Danielle Turner I’m Ron Fucking Swanson
47 Michala Drum Trinkets
55 Danielle Turner
64 Matthew Strissel
The Good
Northern Lights
48 Zoë Williams
55 Olivia Christensen
65 Candy Olberding
Mother of Dragons
Chandler
Copper Red II
48 Nick Palmer
56 Nikayla Cooper
65 An Nguyen
Virgin
Cuba Sunsets
Once Upon a Time in Manhattan
49 Becci Harrington
56 Candy Olberding
Lion of Judah
Fish Bowl
66 Michala Drum Wonder
50 Michala Drum Crystal
57 Zoë Williams Alecci’s Logo
67 Cameron Sticka
51 Alvin Cooper
57 Becci Harrington
67 Zoë Williams
Let It Ride
Da Vinci Style
Pontiac Trans Am
52 Ana Baird
58 Cameron Sticka
68 Julia Porzner
Looks Like Fall
Barbarian
Incident
52 Darby Clark Synesthesia
60 Taylor Schultz
69 Dylan Miller
Paris
Alecci’s Shaved Ice Logo
53 Cameron Sticka
62 Cameron Sticka Witch Doctor
69 Mallory Schenach
Agriculture Site Mockup
VERBALIZE
Godzilla
Powder Basin Motocross Logo
6 Jess Bakken
24 Amy Bradfield Cox
49 Caleb & Jacob Garza
Spirit of the Flame
See No Evil
The Leading Light
11 Randi Wilkerson
29 Cole Wright
51 Cullen Smith
Starry Night
Haiku
What the Window Sees
13 Caleb & Jacob Garza
33 Kenneth Ferbrache The Glory of the Night
54 Kenneth Ferbrache The Night Dawn of Spring
Shift
37 Mandee Leonhardt Winter
59 Talyn Rider & Charles Black Warrior Souls
17 Caleb & Jacob Garza
38 Jeremy Ohman
61 Caleb Garza
Regeneration
Missing Something Important
What If?
18 Randi Wilkerson
43 Kenneth Ferbrache
64 Kenneth Ferbrache
Books
To Heaven in Babel
Value of a Picture
23 Caleb & Jacob Garza Austere Autumn
44 Randi Wilkerson
66 Randi Wilkerson Awakening
The Rising of the Son
15 Randi Wilkerson
Splitting Frozen Wood
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Sunflower Ana Baird Watercolor
Frozen in Time Lauren Kudera Photography
Energy Audra Bintz Plaster
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Spirit of the Flame Jess Bakken Song Lyrics Lightning and earth collide Striking the mountain side Ignite the woodland pyre Unleash waves of fire Deafening roar as the forest burns Inferno raging across the land
Cry Julia Porzner Acrylic
Wheel of the ancient cycle turns Rising from ashes saplings will stand Smoke ascends to the sky The ablaze timbers die Incinerate them all Thousands of corpses fall Mighty coniferous phoenix trees Reproducing in conflagration Great tongues of fire releasing seeds Catalyst of new generations Spirit of flame Cycle of life
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Dr. Strange ZoĂŤ Williams Digital
DR. STRANGE
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
American Typewriter Becci Harrington Digital
Record Deal Darby Clark & Juan Alvarez Digital
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Baby & Me Cassie Capellen Graphite
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Starry Night Randi Wilkerson Poetry Waves of silver-blue sky Crash against a rolling shore. The village below sleeps, Oblivious to the dance above. Stars ripple like stones dropped in still Water, as though shaking with The joy of their existence. The swaying Cyprus stretches, Reaching for the play of wave and light. All of nature is dancing, singing, “I’m alive!” And all the while the city sleeps. Will they ever wake to see the visions Right before their eyes? Will they ever know this possessing spirit That forces my paintbrush to fly?
Gazing Michala Drum Ink/Acrylic/Marker
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Yummy Complimentary Colors Nikayla Cooper Photography
Lone Mountain Architects ZoĂŤ Williams Digital
Ceramic Plate II Candy Olberding Stoneware
The Rising of the Son Caleb & Jacob Garza Poetry And so at last the day is born Awakened from its solemn rest Ah glorious simple summer morn Arise with child’s first breath Put to death the crescent enemy Bury him in his demise Delivered from dark enmity The son begins to rise
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Greece Becci Harrington Linocut
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Shift
The Hit Girl
Randi Wilkerson Poetry
Danielle Turner Monoprint It is quiet. A gray screen of cloud over
The sun lends secrecy to a hushed Moment. A stuttering wind plays with the Pages of my journal. Its muttering voice should threaten The calm, yet it only seems to Enforce it. The grass is dead and empty, The trees are sleeping sound. Should I wake the moment? Backpacks in haste Burst from doors all around. Laugher echoes in the empty air, Pleasure thundering with such intensity That the clouds draw back to let the Sun shine. On the wall nearby seven little sparrows begin to sing Their morning tales. Feet scuff the cracked pavement and Car engines roar steadily by. Doors slam closed and laughter Fades into nothing. The fragile wind dies abruptly and The sparrows cease telling Their stories. Without the joyous sound to fill the air The haze drifts in to darken the sun. The still moment returns, more solid than ever. A playful breath scatters my pages. A single bird dares to chirp. I smile. The moment is not as quiet as I had thought.
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Best Friends ZoĂŤ Williams Graphite
Ice Jess Bakken Photography
Regeneration Caleb & Jacob Garza Poetry Angels weep in solemn prayer Their Savior left to die They mourn their king in great despair Thrice the day and night Tears like dew comfort man And resurrect his faith T’was the nature of the plan To overcome the grave
Greenough Lake Jessica Goodwin Photography
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Books Randi Wilkerson Poetry Colors in the aisles rust, leaf, cherry, sand, too distorted can’t focus and then one leaps out to grab my eyes laughing because I couldn’t see it before.
Copper Red Candy Olberding Stoneware
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
King Kong Dylan Miller Digital
Volume XVI, Issue Nº1
THE Magazine
Table of Contents
Zoë Williams Digital
2 KLINIC SLAB 3 LETTERS 4 ZAGREB GIGS 6 EVENTS GUIDE
MAGAZINE
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Untitled Sean Mennell Ceramic
Wretched Cameron Sticka Acrylic
Awake Matthew Dillon Photography
Potato Omelette Nick Palmer Mixed Media
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Sleeping Dove Marsha Stewart Photography
Coralsand ZoĂŤ Williams Digital
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Austere Autumn Caleb & Jacob Garza Poetry The trees forgo their countenance As clouds begin to grey Their branches cry red tear drops As the sun begins to fade The western winds provoke, Attack the undergrowth Tears forever Fall ‘till Spring is under oath
Copper Red Temoku Candy Olberding Stoneware
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
See No Evil Amy Bradfield Cox Short Story I constantly find myself retracing my steps; constantly revisiting the places I did 50 years ago. I have been to this giant’s-mouth of a gate every day, multiple times a day, since 1942, but still, I have not found a way out. A … something—some unseen force holds me here, trapped just like I was when Mauthausen was at its hellish height. I am always here, my memory is the one residing here. God will not allow me to leave. Perhaps I am to remain as a reminder for eternity. I had thought, or rather I had hoped, that I would at least be able to see my friends and family in this life, but, for some reason, the chamber was not the end as we all prayed it would be. It was only a new beginning. A familiar shadow beckons me over to the gate. I know him, and it saddens me to know that I may never see the face that belongs to my best friend and protector, to the sweet soul of Samuel. I smile as I approach him, wondering if he can see me. I follow his wispy gesture to see a young family approaching the rusted gate. The mother resembles my own in height and in appearance. Her thick, wavy hair crosses her left shoulder softly and perfectly. Her chestnut eyes tell novels of misfortune and misery, as did my mother’s before her passing. I was always told that I looked much like my mother with her high cheek bones and tall, slender body type. The little girl clutches the woman’s finger with one hand and a thorn-less crimson rose with the other, bears slight resemblance to my younger sister who I gave my sight for. Her bracken curls bounce in the slight September breeze; her saucer eyes stare at me … as though she knows I’m here. Typical, children seem to be the only ones to really know the significance of what happened on this hallowed ground. The mother takes the young girl in her arm and accepts her husband’s hand as he slips his personal typewriter in his pocket before they venture into the camp. I turn back to face Samuel, to whisper that we had visitors, but, as always, he had gone—he had other duties to perform. Carefully, I follow the family as they approach the cabin—my cabin, where 15 other girls and I had slept. I hear each breath the family takes as they look at the cramped room. I crawl on to my top bunk next to the window to watch their expressions. Horror and disgust pock their faces. The little girl points with the rose to her father. He, in turn, takes the child in his arms and
lifts her to place the rose on my bunk. “For you,” she whispered, before turning to bury her face in her father’s shirt in callow embarrassment. I pick up the rose, smiling at the gift and at the memory it held, a memory that for me had no color, no light, no sight—a memory that held hatred in its purest form and love in its truest; a memory of Samuel and of the day I died. * * * “Here,” a warm breath tickles my ear as a thin, calloused hand places something slender and hard in mine. I close my fingers around the stem; but, recoil almost immediately, nearly dropping it. “Sorry,” Samuel whispers, his voice is low so only I can hear. “It has thorns.” The statement made a connection. More carefully, I positioned the rose in my hand and felt its soft, velvet head. A smile trickles across my face, breaking the gaunt and miserable expression that my face had held refuge to in the last few months. “Every rose has its thorns,” I whisper towards the warm shadow I know to be my protector—my Samuel. I feel him move closer. “What color is it?” I ask, my mind running through the pallets of the paint set I had as a child, wishing that I had not taken for granted my sight while I had it. “Red.” Red—the color of love, the color of hatred, the color of passion—passion; one way or another, I was going to make it out of here. A soft “clink” rang in the musty, stale air. It was not until then that I noticed that the always present sounds of my fellow Jews performing their meaningless tasks had become quieter. We had wandered away from the pack, away to the barrier of freedom and “Hell-on-Earth”. I place my hand on the cold iron cage. Samuel moves his hand and rests it on top of mine. I can feel both the chill from the steel fence and the warmth from my best friend. “What do you see?” I ask, moving even closer to Samuel— a subconscious action. Samuel scoffed, a low and annoyed sound, “I see everything that I want; everything I wish for—and everything that I will never touch.” I feel a tear roll out of my blinded eyes, stinging my dry, cracking skin as I try to whisper my sympathy, but I stop before I can even take a breath when I hear the “lub dub” of the heavy toed boot of a Nazi officer. Instinctively, I look down to avoid the eye contact that
would give away my visual imperfection as a large, meaty claw grabbed my shoulder and thrust me around to face my captor. Samuel exhaled quickly; he must have received a blow from the commander. “What are you two doing?” the Nazi barks. Neither of us answers; knowing that doing so would bring a harsher punishment than staying silent; we were not considered worthy to speak to them. I can tell that he turns and moves away from us, but I know that he has not left completely. “I have two over here!” he calls to another demon. “Bring them,” another voice replies. I recognize the voice, not by name, but by reputation. The one responding was the man who took the life of my sister, defiled my mother, and took my sight with the butt of his rifle when I had attempted to protect my mother and sister. “Time to clean-up!” The Nazi prods me with his riffle shaft as if I were some poisonous serpent, unsafe to touch. “We bathed just over a week ago,” Samuel states suspiciously, breaking the unspoken code of speaking with them. The Nazi laughs. “You did, but we find it fit to allow you another, one more—now to the bath Jewpig.” I feel Samuel stumble as he is shoved by the Nazi. I follow closely, allowing him to be my eyes. His pace is fast and hard to keep up to. Rushed and scattered voices only confuse me. Samuel grabs my hand for some reassurance and to provide the only comfort available. “What’s happening? What do you see?” Samuel’s arm stretches, pulling on mine. He tries to see around the crowd. “They are entering the bath.” Bodies push against my own on every side. “How many?” “Um … A hundred, maybe a hundred and twenty,” he whispers in my ear. The line moves quickly. We stand feet away from baths entrance. “Remove your clothing and enter quickly!” a command rings out. We quickly obey. In this state there is nothing to be embarrassed about. There is little difference between the male and female body—each gender is just as skinny as the other. We are little more than walking skeletons. I step through the door, Samuel still holding my hand with his own. The cement floor seems colder than normal. I hold my breath as we pass the crematorium. The smell of burnt hair and flesh is fresh, and a slight wave of heat is still flowing from the right hand side of the small room. I fight the urge to vomit.
One by one, we file into the shower room like cattle reporting for a branding. This should be no different than any other bath, but something inside tells me otherwise. I am afraid. Samuel and I find a place against the slimy wall as more and more Jews pile in, each person, nearly standing upon the next. I hear both a heavy “thunk” as the door closes and a cry of horror from several people. “What’s happened?” I ask, my voice rising in anxiety. Samuel slides down the wall and sits on the floor, pulling me down with him. “They’ve turned off the lights.” Darkness was nothing new to me. “The drains are blocked,” I hear a grown man weep; “the drains are gone.” “What’s that mean?” My voice could hardly break the surface of my lips. “It’s not a good thing. It means we’re at a dead end. We are coming to the close. We will never see freedom. We will be greeting our God in a short time.” I couldn’t cry. The news was not “news”. Deep inside, I think I knew that this would always be my outcome. Somehow, I knew that I would meet my end here. I lay my head on Samuel’s shoulder as the showers turn on. “Speak with me until we fall asleep,” I plea, knowing that I will never again awaken. “We are going to be with our families, Leah.” He promises, “You can have a sister again and I will have my brothers and grandparents back … and I will meet my mother for the first time.” “My sister’s name is Molleigh,” I gasp. Each breath I take is a war in and of itself. “She looks like me, but her eyes are brown rather than green, and her hair curls more than mine, but it is just as dark…. So is Mother’s.” My voice cuts off as a wave of pain causes my back to arch and toes to curl. Samuel forces a laugh, taking my hand in his once again, “My brother had … he had this odd little wind-up monkey that he loved.” He stops, I hear his heart beat slowing, lub-dub, lu-b— dub, l-u—b d-u—-b. “The monkey would cover his ears and his mouth and his eyes. My grand-dad told us to live like that— hear no evil, speak no evil, and see no evil … I can’t help not hear the evil, it’s all …” he gasped. “… It is all around us. And I most certainly have spoken evil against the men here … and I see evil everywhere I look.” His lips softly touch my forehead, before he continues; his speech slurs and began slowing down like a freight train coming to the end of its track, “Be grateful continued …
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See No Evil … continued Amy Bradfield Cox Short Story that you lost your sight early on … thank God that you could see no evil.” I nod. My heart seems to pound a little harder, my breathing mimics Samuel’s gasps for air. I feel like a fish that has washed up on the shore, surrounded by air, but unable to take any into my lungs. “We’re going home Le …” Samuel’s voice trails off before he can finish my name. I wait for him to complete his sentence, but he doesn’t. I wait to feel his chest rise again, but it doesn’t. Pain pierces my body, and I lose control of my muscles and my body begins to convulse slightly, but this isn’t that bad. This is nothing. I almost smile as the prospect of escape. I am going home. I will be with my family again, and Samuel will be there waiting for me. Death is not the end, I think to myself. Silently, I let the darkness over take me.
Playful Michala Drum Ink
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Swirl Julia Porzner Acrylic
Odds & Ends Daniel Sullivan Graphite
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Cold & Bored Ana Baird Watercolor
Orchestra Program Cassie Capellen Digital
Haiku Cole Wright Poetry Cowboy grips his rope Steer taken down to dry earth Sweet stench of burnt skin Tents glow with spirit Still trees glazed in the moon light Night of the elk rut Man on the water I am perfect in his grace
Touch the Sky An Nguyen Photography
Jesus is the all I’m bound for the east Where the hills are what I know Hills of Caroline Inscribed on our bones The message of the gospel Beneath that Jesus Works in to the night Eager not able to sleep His flight leaves so soon Cold wind beaten snow Bicycles sit stiff and cold Courtyard sits vacant Snow churning the night Men walk sleepily back home Silent streets of white Warm house of students Hidden from the wind and snow Christmas is coming Return of many Joy and laughter reappear College is a time
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Pet Personified Jodene Pappenfort Photography
Ode to Lovecraft Cameron Sticka Acrylic
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Vespa Becci Harrington Digital
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Lux An Nguyen Photography
The Glory of the Night Kenneth Ferbrache Poetry Oh, glorious night! How bright the star-filled night. Ten million, trillion stars in the universe, so close together always so far away unable to count all, try as one might twinkle, twinkle little stars oh how they glimmer dancing in their light yet they are beacons unmoving in the void of night. Like a party in the sky they entertain their night with our dreams. Watching, waiting, laughing at our humble plight. Always leading lost souls in ever great circles. No place of rest they do lead like fools, we follow, we fight forever they will shine in the shadows of night. Twinkle, dance, shine your light oh little stars. Oh glorious night!
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Temoku Candy Olberding Stoneware
— Ampersand —
Ampersand Dylan Miller Digital
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Color Study Audra Bintz Watercolor
Leaf Bowl Candy Olberding Stoneware
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
20 Minute Pose Danielle Turner Ink
Winter Mandee Leonhardt Poetry If I could write you a poem, It’d go on and on about all that’s gone wrong. But instead I could write you a letter and make everything better. It’s been cold, its been rough, But it’s been undeniably love. Love causes the heart to beat, Love causes the heart to break in defeat. Love is impatient, love is unkind. Love is jealous, love is selfish. All the times together, Good and bad, We thought we’d be forever. Hurting each other this way, what can I say? This is the worst thing that’s happened since May. Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time. If any of these past months were joyful, Then we definitely need to part. Morgan, it cuts me right through the heart, But Ron Pope describes you as my heaven, Yet we cry like when we were seven. We are long past due, We need to start new. There’s no good explanation, Maybe we lost determination. Everything happens for a reason, I guess winter just wasn’t our season.
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Missing Something Important Jeremy Ohman Poetry Cannot hear, Please don’t speak, Kiss my ear, So I can keep You close to me.
Enchanted Apples Ana Baird Watercolor
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz ZoĂŤ Williams Digital
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Explore Taylor Schultz Digital
EXPLORE
MarkerRender Jodene Pappenfort Photography
Terror King Cameron Sticka Acrylic
Skull Study ZoĂŤ Williams Graphite
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Emperor’s New Clothes Michala Drum Ink
4x4 Poster Mallory Schenach Digital
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Majestic Burger Triptych Cameron Sticka Digital
To Heaven in Babel Kenneth Ferbrache Poetry Forever up, no end in sight Ever constructing but never finished below the clouds, above the clouds the road will ever continue in a spiral to the pearly gates on high. United as one, one in purpose divided by the divine hand United in god a tower to heaven. Moving closer to God, always so far away. Built like so many others on the road to hell. Never knowing he’s always there‌
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Splitting Frozen Wood Randi Wilkerson Poetry Gloves of bitter ice Encase our hands, bent like Claws around smooth, wooden handles. I can count the seconds in every Blood cell surrendering to the Cold. My mother’s hammer falls, Rings against the wedge biting Deep into the wood. She draws in a breath of frozen air And returns a puff of steam. The hammer dives again, And again. My hands are frozen solid And I cannot seem to breathe, Yet she just powers on Ahead, drawing from some Unseen source. Her fierce eyes silently cry Defiance to the cold. Every swing denies its power And every ring is an echo of the Force that is her life, Refusing to give in. I take a deep breath And pick up my hammer. Our next swings echo As one.
Woods Dylan Miller Photography
Illustration Darby Clark Digital
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Geiko Benny Dial Photography
Ceramic Plate I Candy Olberding Stoneware
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Trinkets Michala Drum Graphite
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Mother of Dragons ZoĂŤ Williams Digital
Virgin Nick Palmer Mixed Media
The Leading Light Caleb & Jacob Garza Poetry All the eyes of Heaven Watch graceful from above Each one the purest diamond Each one the fairest dove Each one will choose a man Each man a constellation Willed by the hand of God A promise of Salvation
Lion of Judah Becci Harrington Monoprint
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Crystal Michala Drum Watercolor
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What the Window Sees Cullen Smith Poetry Trees groan against the wind On the other side of glass Plastic ripples As construction workers scurry about Heads bowed, shoulders hunched Cables taut, then loose, then taut again Plywood creaks, metal silent Dust-flecked snow drifts, Marker flags whipping in the forlorn air Grey pervades what the window sees Stains on the glass, like tears Where breath condensed, froze Melted and froze again
Let It Ride Alvin Cooper Photography
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Looks Like Fall Ana Baird Watercolor
Synesthesia Darby Clark Digital
Agriculture Site Mockup Cameron Sticka Digital
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The Night Dawn of Spring Kenneth Ferbrache Poetry The heavens scatter down rain drops. Tear drops of sorrow and joy. Full of life they bring death to winter’s infertile ground. Angel kisses upon my soul. Tears drops of life; an answer to unspoken prayers. Green is the birth the rain brings. Blessings from on high they are the tears of God. Relaxing is the sound of falling tears upon the ground. Tear drops scattered from heaven the dawn of spring in the darkness of night.
Heavenly Church Marsha Stewart Photography
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
The Good Danielle Turner Monoprint
Chandler Olivia Christensen Graphite
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Cuba Sunsets Nikayla Cooper Photography
Fish Bowl Candy Olberding Stoneware
Alecci’s Logo Zoë Williams Digital
Alecci’s Ice
Delights
Da Vinci Style Becci Harrington Digital
DA VINCI
STYLE 57
Barbarian Cameron Sticka Digital
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Warrior Souls Talyn Rider & Charles Black Poetry In tribute to Ameera Dark and light, souls in the night. Talking of forbidden treasures Few others can see. The light guiding. The dark following, Seeking the glow of emerald fields. Harsh words with no effect, Deep secrets revealed and healed. Shadows, darker than night, Enemies beaten back by spirits of light. Past, present, future, All combined in two warriors’ fight, Intertwined through all of time, surviving the strife. A bond, a connection, Between two weary souls Looking for a faith missing from life. Not of romance, but of battle delight Love of Family, Burning bright Dark and light, Bound in destiny and fighting strong, Living the warrior life.
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Paris Taylor Schultz Digital
What If? Caleb Garza Poetry THEM: “What if you’re wrong? What if your god is buried and gone? What if the one who was nailed to the tree Was just someone normal, like you, or like me? What if the man they laid in the tomb Was not really born of a virgin womb? And what if the god you speak of has lied? After all, how could ‘god’ be crucified? And how do you know he even existed? That it’s not just some story that someone got twisted? How can you trust in something unseen? It could all be fake, imagined, a dream! Why do you claim to trust in this joke? Do you honestly think this is your hope? One man was killed and that’s the game changer? Oh, and what kind of god is born in a manger? You’re foolish; your god is hopeless and fake, If you ask me, it’s all a mistake…”
ME: “If all that I claim to believe is untrue Then I have no hope and I am a fool But faith is the evidence of things unseen So in Christ I trust, in him I believe What proof of wind is there but effects? We can’t see a breeze but nevertheless We know that it’s there and it’s undisputed! And you think invisibility makes God refuted!? I mean, yeah we can’t see him, why does that break the deal? To me, it takes more faith to believe he’s not real!! Have you not seen the sunsets in purples and reds? Or tried to count stars and lose track in your head? It’s simpler to me to believe God put them there Than to think that a “bang” made everything appear Oh and which came first the chicken or the egg? I’m still not sure, but it was on the 4th day… Now why would my God die for me? Because he SO LOVED as it says in John 3 If he hasn’t died and he hasn’t risen Then I have no hope of being forgiven My God is not dead, he’s surely alive And I believe because he gave me life Born beaten crucified He sent his son to live, to die What if? You ask, what if I’m wrong Then I have no hope and I’m long gone But I know my God is alive and well And praise him cuz I’m never going to hell.” What if? What if you’re wrong?
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Witch Doctor Cameron Sticka Digital
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I’m Ron Fucking Swanson Danielle Turner Cardboard/Acrylic
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Value of a Picture Kenneth Ferbrache Poetry Thousands of words before me. A mural of colors blend together add shade, depth and light to our souls A priceless piece of paper more valuable than gold. Smiling faces stare at me, frozen in time memories of a past long ago happiness and joy fill their souls. No matter the distance nor pain I endure. They are always here through this mural before me.
Northern Lights Matthew Strissel Photography
Copper Red II Candy Olberding Stoneware
Once Upon a Time in Manhattan An Nguyen Photography
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Wonder Michala Drum Ink
Awakening Randi Wilkerson Poetry Little green shoots spring up from the ground, Enchanting the darkness that’s spread all around. Snow’s icy death sinks into the earth, Feeding the flowers that open with mirth. A robin’s cheery chirp thanks the withering dark. Winter’s last breath is spring’s birthing mark.
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Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Godzilla Cameron Sticka Digital
Pontiac Trans Am ZoĂŤ Williams Digital
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Incident Julia Porzner Graphite
Alecci’s Shaved Ice Logo Dylan Miller Digital
Powder Basin Motocross Logo Mallory Schenach Digital
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WHO ARE WE? Visualize Verbalize Vocalize is an annual studentproduced magazine for creative and curious minds, intending to surprise readers with its rich mix of diverse artwork, prose, poetry, and music. We publish original and innovative works that represent what the Northwest College art scene is all about. Some of these pieces may change the way you perceive artwork and the way you analyze written works. RenÊe Tafoya and Morgan Tyree have strived to encourage their students to put together a magazine filled with only the best of the best, and thus far their students have done just that. Visualize Verbalize Vocalize progresses from an idea to a finished publication all in one semester. We start by sending out submission forms campus-wide to students who hope to have their work published, while simultaneously beginning the design process. After the submissions are received, students who are a part of the Visualize Verbalize Vocalize production team begin the judging process to determine which images, literature, artwork, and music will be included in the magazine—ask any team member, this is the most difficult part of the entire magazine.
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This years team of students came together to collaborate on designing, editing, photo correction, and layout using the Adobe Creative Suite. Visualize Verbalize Vocalize is printed on a 1972 Heidelberg SORD single-color offset press located at Northwest College by our Printing Services. The press has over 66 million impressions to date. George Laughlin, our Printing Services Technician, works hard to make sure our publication comes out even better than we could have imagined. Our Printing Services uses a state of the art Compter to Plate Kodak Trendsetter to create the metal plates that the Heidleberg uses for our print production. This magazine not only showcases the capabilities of our students enrolled in various programs, but also the professors who lead their students to this grandiose publication. More importantly, perhaps, we publish visual, verbal, and vocal compositions that make us proud to say we came from Northwest College.
Visualize Verbalize Vocalize
Morgan Tyree
RenĂŠe Tafoya
Assistant Professor of Graphic Arts
Assistant Professor of Grapic Design
Cassie Capellen Graphic Design
Vera Horstmann Graphic Design
Dylan Slusher Marketing
Darby Clark Graphic Design
Dylan Miller Graphic Design
Cameron Sticka Graphic Design
Ana Baird Graphic Design
Becci Harrington Graphic Design
An Nguyen Graphic Design
ZoĂŤ Williams Graphic Design