Mosaic 2023

mosaic The Publication of the Arts

1500 Mark Thomas Drive | Monterey, CA 93940 | 831.655.9300 | santacatalina.org

Student Editors

Reena Dail ’23

Audrey Morrison ’23

Faculty Advisor

Dr. Raegan Russell

Staff

Amparo Alcaraz ’23

Sophie Knipp ’25

Piper Anderson ’23

Ava Kruger ’24

Yunah Baek ’26

Maggie Madden ’24

Leah Brewer ’24

Brooke McCoy ’26

Suhana Dail ’26

Anna McMillan ’24

Montana Driscoll ’24

Tanusha Mehtani ’25

Jasmine Flanders ’23

Georgia Morrison ’26

Isabell Fujita ’26

Maria Rivera-Rubio ’23

Chloe Goforth ’23

Norah Elena Ruiz ’24

Juli Herrera ’26

Selma Ruiz ’23

Abby Jung ’26

Hope Sallee ’26

Emma Kim ’24

Cecilia Yu ’24

Design & Production

Communications Office

Front Cover: Cluttery, Lorenza Cerisola ’24, gouache All content © 2023 Santa Catalina School students as indicated.

5/2022 - 200

mosaic The Publication of the Arts SPRING 2023

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Table of Contents Art, Cluttery ......................................................Lorenza Marquad Cerisola ’24.......Front Cover Poem, Typewriter...............................................Yunah Baek ’26.............................................4 Art, Untitled.......................................................Sophie Knipp ’25...........................................5 Art, 0.5..............................................................Anna Yeh ’23.................................................6 Poem, Uncomfortable ......................................Hope Sallee ’26.............................................7 Poem, POV-seidon............................................Ali Calderon ’26.............................................8 Short Story, A Report Card Comment for Young Victor Frankenstein............................Sophie Gong ’25...........................................9 Photography, many different views.....................C.C. Shaw ’23.............................................10 Poem, City........................................................Nikol Lahoda ’26.........................................11 Poem, Ghost Boys............................................Sorin Alling ’26............................................12 Poem, Calypso..................................................Nancy Ma ’26..............................................14 Art, Portrait of Martha Yeme...............................Amparo Alcaraz ’23.....................................15 Photography, Celebration..................................C.C. Shaw ’23.............................................16 Poem, Summer Days of You..............................Zehya Mohan-Black ’26..............................17 Poem, Rock Bottom..........................................Christina Wu ’24 .........................................18 Art, Blue............................................................Anna Yeh ’23...............................................20 Poem, Ocean's Embrace...................................Louise Burton ’26........................................21 Art, Calla Lily......................................................Maggie Zou ’23...........................................22 Poem, Twenty Years..........................................Suhana Dail ’26 ..........................................23 Photography, Foxglove......................................Suhana Dail ’26...........................................24

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Acknowledgments Dr. Barbara Ostos Mr. Peter Myers Mrs. Julie Edson ’88 Sister Claire Sister Christine Ms. Crystal Boyd ’89 Mrs. Emily Slayton Dr. Nancy Hunt Mrs. Katherine Busch Ms. Jamie Ball Ms. Claire Lerner Ms. Beth Jones Mrs. Sarah Paff Dr. John Murphy Mr. Fred White …and all the students of Santa Catalina who created wonderful art during the ’22-23 school year.

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Typewriter Yunah Baek ’26

Clack, clack.

The stamp of ink on paper, decisive Decisions punctuated with letter-sized Punches. Certain individuals, The typewriter and I. Clack, clack.

But, careful and unable to press the backspace, a key of the past.

A conscientious antique, the typewriter and I. Cantankerous, capable keys, authoring halting music for my eyes.

A producer of poised discord, the typewriter and I. Clack, clack.

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Untitled, Sophie Knipp ’25, watercolor

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0.5, Anna Yeh ’23, colored pencil

Uncomfortable Hope Sallee ’26

Uncomfortable Is such a versatile word That it makes me sad.

Because I don’t think of itchy sweaters, Or too small shoes, Or wooden chairs, When I hear that word.

Instead I think Of the photos taken of women on the streets When their skirts are “too short” For people’s wandering eyes And they’re deemed the property Of whoever finds them first.

I think Of the slimy feeling I get When certain people say certain things Because I’m a fourteen year old girl And they think I’m old enough To be looked at in that way.

I think About how worried I am For my sister to be walking on a college campus alone Without the protection She shouldn’t need to have.

I think Of all the eerie street corners That I’ve walked just a little bit faster to get away from As I wondered if this would be the moment When I became part of the ninety percent Who were also women.

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POV-seidon Ali Calderon ’26

Ah! So you want to hear about the little liar, I see?

Oh well, doesn’t this topic genuinely interest me!

As the god and king of the treacherous ocean, I have dealt with a lot of commotion.

But this man, Odysseus, is the worst, And may or may not have been cursed….

All because of what he did to my son: Took a stake to his eye. Was it really that fun?

And then he strapped himself to a sheep, He got back to his ship and took a mighty leap, By telling my son his true name, And though I know he wanted fame, Oh, well, your actions have just been so lame!

When reminded of how my boy used to be, my heart drops, For my dear, blind, handsome cyclops!

Now I spend my days Torturing Odysseus in all ways, Making sure his life is rotten, Just so that he will hide and be forgotten!

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A Report Card Comment for Young Victor Frankenstein from His Professor in Ingolstadt Sophie Gong ’25

Dear Mr. Frankenstein, Over the course of the past semester, students in English III Honors have worked diligently to improve their writing skills while reading the most classic texts known to man. Creative writing, poetry, and prose have also been completed to supplement this literature. Victor has shown his prowess in the English language through his conscientious essays and careful reading. He is never late to turn in an assignment, but I don’t believe he has ever contributed in class. Now, I would like to send my deepest sympathies to you and your family for the loss of your wife, Victor’s beloved mother. I understand that she had a considerable impact on your son’s life. With that being said, I want to inform you of what I am concerned about: Victor appears not to have any friends. I’m afraid he does not put himself out there in class or outside the classroom. As a result, he is quite utterly alone.

In addition, while the descriptiveness of Victor’s creative work is beyond his years, it is of a very dark kind. I’ve noticed that he prefers to only produce works that are tinged with horror or are entirely gothic. Victor has never written stories of light humor, flowery romance, or even mystery.

There is always a constant dark theme in every creative story he writes.

It is one of my greatest desires that Victor will gain a friendship this year.

I worry that this loneliness (along with the loss of his mother) is causing his depressed writing. Please take care of him when he goes home for the holidays.

Cordially, Professor Nicolette Periwin The Publication of the Arts

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mosaic many different views, C.C. Shaw ’23, digital photography

City Nikol Lahoda ’26

The cars are honking, you hear shouting, And suddenly you’re in the moment Hunting.

To catch a cab, to catch your soul That you so quickly gave this foul City. So many words, and ground, Still grey, not brown.

And soil, destroyed by people’s callous hearts Hidden under concrete streets without spark.

Walking in the rain. Crowd. People. Loneliness.

There’s no one there to guess Your feelings, your duplicated days As if you were an algorithm to someone’s magic trick.

And all the fictive, faux, fake pretending makes you sick.

City. Everyone trying to be a one they never will, Routine, after years, willingness to kill.

A clone, they will restore with a replica the closest day.

The city, a place where you never had a say.

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Ghost Boys Sorin Alling ‘26

Two ghost boys Two ghost hearts Waiting For something new.

Waiting for the snow The terrible cold To pass.

They were promised Nothing, And yet Cold seeps Into their ghost bones.

Maybe the sun Will return.

So there they sit.

Waiting Waiting Waiting.

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Two ghost boys On a Thursday afternoon Not yet ready To move on.

The shadows creep in And the night comes quickly.

Or maybe They have been sitting Forever.

Waiting Waiting Waiting.

Two ghost boys Sitting in the dark.

I want to leave One says, His ghost tears disappearing Into the firm Real Snow.

There is no reply From his dead friend.

But he will reply.

Won’t he?

The boy is quiet.

Waiting Waiting Waiting.

Two ghost boys Two transparent souls.

Perhaps If the first boy Had kept quiet His companion Would have stayed.

Perhaps then He would not be alone.

Or maybe He always was.

One ghost boy With one glass heart Waiting Waiting waiting.

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Calypso Nancy Ma ‘26

First time I saw him, he was blown in the indigo water by waves.

Looking exhausted and miserable, he floated towards the shore of my fertile island.

I saved him out of compassion and fed him with mellow wine and fine cattle.

Everyone knows the great King Odysseus and the glorious deed he had done in Troy.

I didn’t want him to leave, so I kept him here out of possessive obsessions.

Though trapping him for seven years, I loved him and cared for him; I give him all my heart.

I was thinking about him all the time, figuring out ways to make him change his mind and forget about Ithaca and his wife Penelope.

But all he did was weep desperately, sitting alone near the shore, Trying to look at his patria through the thick fog.

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My life was already tragedy, those wayward and biased male gods even commanded me to send him back to Ithaca.

What shall I do?

He chose Ithaca instead of being immortal with me on this island that has blooming flowers all year round.

So, I let him go.

Unwillingly but no choice.

I knew his way to his hometown will not be a pleasant journey.

Still, I blessed him and gave him agood luck.

Last time I saw him, he was in cloak and tunic, with an axe and an adze.

His silhouette slowly faded in the fog.

Now, there is only me on this island, and there will be only me on this island, with endless food, endless wine, and endless life, enjoying the endless void in my heart.

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Portrait of Martha Yeme, Amparo Alcaraz ’23, gouache

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mosaic Celebration, C.C. Shaw ’23, digital photography

Summer Days of You Zehya Mohan-Black ’26

Do you feel the kiss of Sun, her rosy tones that dance across you?

Perhaps, instead, you are the one, to brighten those around you.

I feel your kiss, oh Sun, graze my heated cheeks.

Those lovely kisses met by none, that warms the sky for weeks.

To me, you are the Sun, whose brilliant rays cast away the dark, till day turns into night.

By then her starry sky will mark, the Moon in all her light.

But you bring forth my golden hour, oh Sun, from break of dawn to dusk.

Since all these lovely days begun, you’ve left the cold a husk.

I wish to rest upon these clouds, that float along my view.

All fluffy whites who lazily shroud, your never ending blue.

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Rock Bottom Christina Wu’24

The world is frigid dive into the sea And be relieved.....

Dispersed moonlight through the clouds Hiding from the crowd Spattered on the scales of the sea.

Waves wetting white skirts, Trying to push you back; Trying to warn you Wash away the blood, Listen to the depths of the sea Whose wail is guiding The soul is lost to the silence No one will wake you up.

Salty scent of the sea breeze Stepping on the wet gravel Ashes scattered into the sea You ask me where is the destination of the soul.

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Is there anyone who loves me Can the world cease to be?

Always smiling at the cool ones people on the shore, smiling on their faces, A dim light of love for the world Everything is scattered into smoke.

Sorrow is a cloud Go back, There's someone waiting for you on the shore.

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Blue, Anna Yeh ’23, digital art

Ocean's Embrace Louise Burton ’26

I would consider myself like the waves.

Not on a beautiful day, rocking you back and forth calmly.

Not the clear, rapid swell.

Not a small ripple on the shore, for your children to play in Or for you to dance in with someone you adore.

But instead rolling around on a foggy night, without the sun, but the stars and the moon The universe surrounding me, Belonging to the night.

Let me drown you in my dusk.

Let the stars guide your soul.

Let my brightest star give you hope for the rest of the world to glow.

I will mold you like sea glass, suffocate in the tides Do not break, but let me soften your sharp edges Breath the salt of the endless ocean Go far, but I will pull you back And when they ask why, I loved you Just know that the water was never afraid to touch you Even while you were, torn, shattered, beaten, defeated; The waves will always be here to heal you.

And so will I.

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mosaic Calla Lily, Maggie Zou ’23, acrylic paint

Twenty Years Suhana Dail ’26

One, two, three, four, five.

You’ll be back soon.

Sailing back to me With your eyes bright with victory.

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Waiting in the shadows, Knowing you’ll be back.

You have to be back.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

How much more until I see you again?

Hear you again?

Have you again?

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.

I have lost.

We are lost.

Now resting in the darkness.

Leaves and ashes, Thirst and tears.

It’s not possible.

Fruits and pain, Dreams made real.

It is possible.

Twenty.

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mosaic Foxglove, Suhana Dail ’26, digital photography