SBA Art & Literary Magazine, Issue 1

ART

& LITERARY ST. BENEDICT AT AUBURNDALE

MAGAZINE →

ISSUE 1

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elcome to St. Benedict’s first ever Digital Art & Literary Magazine. We are excited the Art and English Departments were able to combine creative forces for this publication. Our hope is that this magazine will not only showcase but highlight the best of what St. Benedict’s art and creative writing students have to offer. Our school is packed full of talent and we know with this issue, we have only begun to scratch the surface. In this edition, you will find artwork from Mrs. Haysley’s painting and drawing class, Mrs. Black’s advanced art class, Mrs. Lile’s photography classes, Mrs. Pela’s graphic design class, and Mrs. Zeanah’s fall creative writing class. Many thanks to all the students and teachers who helped along the way. We hope you will enjoy the first issue and forward it on for family and friends to enjoy.

Magazine Design & Layout by: Amanda Neat, Caitlin Terry, Layla Rapp (Graphic Design Class Fall 2011)

Paul Mitchell • Class of 2013 • Drawing & Painting

Mary Beth Weber • Class of 2012 • Drawing & Painting

Fear the fear inside me, growing stronger. i’m too far lost, to find a way out. the fear inside me, taunting my sheepish heart. i’m not strong enough, i can’t fight it. i close my eyes to escape it, but it only gets worse. the fear inside me, corrupting my dreams. My safe haven, now the place i despise most. the fear inside me, raging within me. i can’t control it, no matter how hard i try. the beast within me comes alive. the fear inside me, breaking me open. i can’t conceal it or even try to hold it. the fear inside me, diminishing me. Bringing me to my end. i thought i’d be sad, i thought i’d be mad. the fear inside me, saving me. the closing darkness, filling my eyes, i can rest now. it’s all right.

emily Adkins • Class of 2012

Jenny Meegan • Class of 2013 • Advanced Art

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The Larger Scale here is a solemn temple, in a valley, where a bell rings sweetly in the morning. With the bell, follows a chain of soft chants– prayerful whispers–led by a line of monks. They repeat this

every morning when the sun is bright and the bell tolls for them. A young man with a freckled face, and purity within, awakes his soul and follows the bell with suitcase in tow. He wishes for a quiet prayer–a peaceful prayer with the monks of the temple. Carrying a nearly, empty suitcase, the man instead fills it with his desires. He dreams to live among the holy and follow as a warrior to his faith. He dreams of traveling far and wide and seeing what so few can see. “I am ready for my task,” says the man. “Where is the head priest?” The elder monk smiled and said, “With due time, my friend, today you will clean the chapel floors.” Upset with his menial chore, he walks head down–not even in prayer–to the chapel. On his hands and knees, he scrubs the chapel’s floors and glances to his side…and notices all of the holiest, head monks and priests scrubbing the floors alongside the discerning men. Head dropped in prayerful thanksgiving, he scrubs under the candles with the holiest of men. No task is inconsiderable when done for the sake of the community.

Grace Call • Class of 2013

Alicia Lawson • Class of 2013 • Drawing and Painting

Madeline Rector • Class of 2015 • Photography

Black Top

I could talk to you for hours.

You, me, these mountains, this black top, and a bucket of chalk.

The memories.

But it rained last night.

And all our memories were washed from that black top.

The things we called art, so haphazardly thrown on the ground, now gone.

If we walked a little ways around the corner, you would tell me secrets.

You cried that night.

The memories.

Back inside like nothing happened. Like no memories had been erased. Like no more had been made.

Good night Susan Boyle.

Tomorrow now and our art is gone.

Good night Susan Boyle.

And it’s tomorrow again.

The whole group is together now.

“Kumbayah, my Lord” One last tomorrow.

I’m not ready for bed. You aren’t either.

To the black top.

Completely content with this silence. With this peace.

With this black top.

The memories.

Hayden Morrissett • Class of 2012

This is what it is to be Happy this is a day when my world seems balanced. i smile and it’s not forced and i’m relaxed in my skin. on this day, i take a long drive, going the same routes as i usually do on a day like this. i make sure to pass a certain road, lined with trees. And for those few short minutes, as i make my way through that back road, i feel surrounded by beauty. the sun shines through the leaves and casts shadows down on the ground. i pass by and drive to this field near my house. it’s surrounded by trees and the sun is setting, creating a glow among them all. As i stand here, i feel this sense of fulfillment. i look around and breathe deeply. i feel completely and utterly happy with who i am and what i’m doing. i don’t need to be productive at this moment; all i need to do is be here. i was meant to be in this very spot at this very moment, thinking these very things. i realize that i’m not all there is to life, that the people and places and things i encounter every day are not all there is. there is something so much larger than all of this. the beauty and the essence of this field is who i am. i am the trees blossoming even through harsh weather. i am the grass that becomes wild sometimes and needs to be tamed. these trees are so old, and compared to them, i’m just a baby. i’ve only begun on this long mile, this journey they call life. But what is the meaning of it all? the possibilities are endless. the breeze and the sun, the greens and browns wrap me in their loving embrace and i feel my higher power comforting me through all of this. i feel safe in this place. here, sitting in the grass watching as another day passes, all of my senses are being used. i can feel the grace of the world as if she’s sitting right next to me. i feel consumed with a different kind of love that i have never felt before. i feel open for everything. i feel the need to give my love to everyone and everything in the whole world. i have so much of it to give. Sitting here, surrounded by all of this magnificence, i feel infinite. And in this moment, i feel content with life. i think to myself, this is what it is to be happy.

Lindsey Wells • Class of 2012

Mary Beth Weber • Class of 2012 • Drawing & Painting

Amanda Melvin • Class of 2014 • Photography

Who the elder of the village had sent me out into the woods two days ago. i was starting to wonder if i was ever going to have this vision quest that everyone keeps talking about. it was starting to get dark. i guess i was going to be spending another night in the woods. i started to fall asleep, when suddenly, i was very aware of the smell of pine. it filled my senses. i ran my fingers along the ground and felt pine needles everywhere. i guess i was sitting underneath a pine tree. the smell of smoke interrupted the smell of pine. is this it? is this my vision quest? An owl soon confirmed that it was indeed. he landed on a tree branch directly over my head and starting hooting. “hoot, hoot.” or was it, “Who, who?” Who am i? the owl started to fly around and i took that as a signal to follow it. i got up from the rough, but soft, pine needles and noticed the chill of the night. the owl led me to the bank of a nearby lake. i could feel the cool vapor roll off the lake onto my face. i wondered what this place was. i had never seen it before. “Who, who?” the owl went again. “i don’t know,” i said. i walked a few steps into the water. i liked the way it felt. A fish swam by my foot, brushing it as it went on its way. the owl started hooting again, this time, it sounded like a “hoot” not a “who.” i closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of pine. When i opened my eyes again, i was back at the tree, sitting in pine needles. the owl was gone, and the dawn was on the horizon. i sat there quietly for an hour or so, then slowly got up and went to find the chief elder.

Cathy holmes • Class of 2012

Rebekah Little • Class of 2012 • Graphic Arts

Palindrome (Forwards) Do you still see the world as a conspiracy?

I know the world has hurt you, but it has also hurt me Love isn’t real I refuse to believe Someone wants you, someone cares how you feel I find this very true There is always a way to change things That is not the truth Broken hearts are never to be heard Your friends will bring you comfort if you confide in them This is a lie The world is a conspiracy against you Katie Disalvo • Class of 2012

Palindrome (Backwards) The world is a conspiracy against you This is a lie Your friends will bring you comfort if you confide in them Broken hearts are never to be heard That is not the truth There is always a way to change things I find this very true Someone wants you, someone cares how you feel I refuse to believe Love isn’t real I know the world has hurt you, but it has also hurt me Do you still see the world as a conspiracy?

Katie Disalvo • Class of 2012

Halle Urban • Class of 2012 • Advanced Art

MJ Kim • Class of 2012 • Advanced Art

Don’t Be Afraid to Dance in the Streets Don’t be afraid to dance in the streets To sing in the crowd To turn the music up loud.

If that’s who you are let it show.

Be you, everybody else is taken.

Life is too short to try to be someone else The days go by fast After all, tomorrow’s just a future yesterday.

You can’t be afraid to show the person you are.

Be you, everybody else is taken.

Run in the halls Sing in the halls Always let your voice be heard.

If we can’t hear you, how can we know you?

Be you, everybody else is taken.

Have fun and work hard.

Be the best you can be.

Don’t ever let anyone get you down.

I will like you for who you are and the world will too.

Be you, everybody else is taken.

Megan Murphy Class of 2012

Dreamy White and Proper Gray Dreamy White and Proper Gray, Colors that absorb my day, The Dreamy White, it makes me Breathless, But Proper Gray pulls me back to Darkness.

The Insightful Rose in my White Dream spoke, To the Folkstone it said to go, But Proper Gray, it pulled me back To my real life where light is black.

The Dreamy White keeps on coming, Till the Essential Gray is no longer humming, But Proper Gray, it keeps up its fight, The Gray won’t let me go to the White.

Suddenly snowfall covered the Black Bean, Where gray had been rooted deep in my being.

The world was all gray as it was turning, The Dreamy White light was all I was yearning, Then, as if someone had bleached the sky, Dreamy White entered my tearful eye, I closed my eyes as it made me Breathless, But then Proper Gray pulled me back to the Darkness.

Marissa Boulanger • Class of 2012

Mary Beth Weber • Class of 2012 • Drawing & Painting

Coach Masterson I see the test and scantron on my desk I hope it’s not too hard I sit and start working on my torture Good, I know how to do the first problem I hope it’s not too hard I’ve got an answer Good, I know how to do the first problem Oh no! It’s matching I’ve got an answer Time to mark it down Oh no! It’s matching I think it’s ABC Time to mark it down Wait ABD I think it’s ABC Maybe ACE making it negative and not positive Wait ABD I’m so confused Maybe ACE making it negative and not positive Hold on there’s ADE I’m so confused Is it ABE? Hold on there’s ADE I’m definitely going with ABE Is it ABE? I’ll put that and hope it’s not wrong I’m definitely going with ABE I get my test back and the correct answer wasn’t even an option

Amanda Duckhorn • Class of 2012

Allison Fetz • Class of 2012 • Drawing & Painting

The Town of London has a Beast My body is outlived by my soul following an unstable source of light into the sky, like an elder tree As the fire grows, night to day in London Your last breath as cutting as a bomb in the wind As unforgettable as the beast Sin to one is like happiness to the beast As the bridge with holes gets longer for my soul As i lose my father’s gift of wind As the last candle burns to the last light While we listen to the werewolves in London Bring down the city as Lumber Jacks to trees Still ashes fall, unlike the leaves for this tree in all of its might the fiery beast had one more trick, for the gray rainy London release him from all he knows to take a soul to make a lamp of white fire to shed a light As the anger of heat kills the wind As the clam is felt, all dies but the wind Growing from the ground, little trees Like beacons, or a lighthouse giving light As i see who is behind this, the beast Laying the trap, like a hunter for our souls As i watch our town rebuilds London our hearts tick and tock like Big Ben of London As we build faster, we are refreshed by the winds More homes for those to rest not only body but soul As babies grow to adult slapping grow to trees the fiery hell turns in a small beast Leading the way, showing us a light Blinding by much even this tiny light once what we called home, was London how it is a home for a hiding beast Lied to all and many but yet the wind?

As leaves fall maybe a warning from the trees Where can we hide not just us but our souls Wind through the trees like light on city street of London leading our souls to the beast nick Murphy • Class of 2012

Erin Peel • Class of 2013 • Drawing & Painting

Today, I Saw a Magnolia Tree Today, I saw a magnolia tree I followed its branches to the sky Today, I could not climb Frozen—too afraid to fall Instead I went to the swing And imagined I could fly.

I imagine I’m a bird, I fly high, high above the tree though my body still sits in the swing.

I drift lazily through the sky unafraid to fall unafraid to climb.

Above the tallest mountain I climb.

To them below, I look tiny as a fly To them below, who are afraid to fall— Like the girl in the swing afraid to climb.

Around me with nothing but the sky I do not know the girl in the swing.

Branches in the breeze sway and swing.

With my eagle eye I see a squirrel climb— He can try but he will not make it to the sky.

Only I can fly.

If he wants he may watch me from the tree— see me dive into a free fall Limitless, unbound by place or weather, spring/summer/fall Time slips and swings I’ve lost where I am, can’t see the tree In a place of no up or down, no fall or climb I no longer need to fly I have become the sky Then the call, I hear from far away, slowly slip down from the sky.

I can feel the free fall— Again I fly Still farther I go down and I remember the girl and the swing, That she is me and we will climb.

Today, I saw a magnolia tree.

Tomorrow the tree and the sky will be there and I will climb unafraid to fall; I will forget the swing and embrace the sky.

Caitlin Terry • Class of 2012

Jenna Fisher • Class of 2015 • Art I