The Pendulum WJ/ume XXVIII 2018
The Pendulum 2018
Volume XXVIII
St. Luke’s School 377 North Wilton Road New Canaan, CT 06840 203.966.5612 slspendulum@gmail.com
“The Veil II” Meg Adams, Digital Photograph
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Editor’s Statement Beyond the intentional creation of This year’s Pendulum theme, The
Veils by writers and politicians, all of us har-
Veil, attempts to articulate the many ways in
bor subconscious Veils. In this respect, The
which reality becomes obscured and mud-
Veil represents the unique and unnoticed lens-
died — with all the positive and negative
es that each of us use to perceive the world.
connotations the process rightfully deserves.
For a child, a simple car ride may seem like
In literature, obfuscation takes a central role:
a journey through magical kingdoms, where-
creative writers differ from essayists in that
as an adult might view the rush hour traffic
they employ metaphors, conceits, and seem-
as being pure torture: such is the subjective
ingly arbitrary narratives, instead of simple,
nature of the human experience. While our
deductive arguments, in order to present a
personal Veils produce the individuality we so
particular worldview. Hamlet does not sim-
cherish in modern society, they can also lead
ply come out on stage and say, “Huh, should
to harmful racial prejudice and empirical bias.
I commit suicide?” Rather, Shakespeare adds emotional heft and resonance to his words
Through both written and visual arts,
by writing about arrows, oceans and dreams.
we hope to explore the myriad of ways that
We all agree that The Veil is useful in liter-
Veils shape our perceptions. In the follow-
ature because it gives readers clarity on a
ing pages, photographs and paintings of fog,
more fundamental, emotional level; howev-
haze, and liquid refraction emulate, in physi-
er, The Veil, especially in politics, can act as
cal terms, the sublime mystery and off-putting
a nefarious force. This year we’ve seen the
uncertainty of The Veil, while various written
inclusion of “fake news” into our national
works attempt to expose our pre-existing as-
vocabulary. The prevalent conspiracy-mind-
sumptions and then subsequently turn them
ed skepticism of basic facts often leads to
on their heads. We hope to make you, our
bad policy decisions, which have had tangi-
treasured reader, more cognisant of
ble effects on individual lives across globe.
the The Veils that are imposed on you by oth-
both
ers and those that you impose on the world.
“The Veil III,” Meg Adama, Digital Photograph
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Table of Contents Literature Haiku A Triptych of Haikus
Mrs. Spencer, Tucker Menzies and Brendan Casey
81
Essay To Bare Or Not To Bare
Lynden Steele
“Floral Woods,” Matthew Crispi, Acrylic on Canvas
4
38-41
“Sleepy,� Anonymous, Graphite Drawing on Paper
Prose Riding North
Tucker Menzies
Concerto For Words
John Krill
51
Strangers
Chase Zammit
55
Under My Thumb Prompts
The Pendulum Staff
66-67
vignettes of her; more joyous/ pantone - 130
Tucker Menzies
72-73
College Wash Room
Christopher Besgen
74
Burn and Learn
Cate Van Elslander
83
Beneath The Veil
G Period Creative Writing Class
48-49
86-87
50-Word Stories Thinking About a 50-Word Story Ajit Akole
42
Common App
Adiah Price-Tucker
42
Me
Hope Jackson
43
Regret
Sophia Dellarusso
46
The Metro Station
Hannah Haden
47
I Do Not Want My Tears To Be In Vain
Kristen Beaumonte
64
The Trees Are Graying
Tucker Menzies
65
Jeremy Gerome
Lucia Wiggers
71
5
“TIME IS LIQUID,” Alexandra Schwartz, Chalk Drawing on Chlakboard
Dialogue Ready For Lunch
Kristen Beaumonte and Kate Stamoulis
Civic Enagement
Jack Thies
88-89 100
Poetry
6
The Next Step
Dominic Demarco
One Layer
Mia Mitchell
16
Imprisoned
Kristen Beaumonte
18
Black Lines
Bilal Memon
22
dilapidation
Alexandra Schwartz
25
The Space In Which We Dissolved
Sydney Adamsen
26
The City
Jack Thies
28
Phantasmic City
Will Pond
30
For Your Information
Rebecca Taylor
31
14-15
What If Laine Partington
35
He Fell From The Sky Clara Pakman
37
You Are Invited Lucia Wiggers
45
I Flood Amelia Wyckoff
57
Ugh, Not Again! Tucker Menzies
60
Look
61
Emma Castiglione
Classroom Clash
Matthew Murphy
63
Holiday Horror Clara Pakman
77
After All These Years
Leo Van Munching
78
It’s The Eve Of The Olympics
Max Lyakovetsky
84
I Will Be Diamond Kristen Beaumonte
93
Where Oceans Meet Lizzy Adamsen
94
Ice Laura Mercedes
98-99
“Hummingbird,” Chloe Kekedjian, Pastel Drawing on Paper
7
Artwork The Pendulum 2018 Cover: “The Veil,” Meg Adams, Digital Photograph
Ceramic Votive
Lucia Wiggers Stoneware Sculpture
103
Printmaking Arizona
Tierney Schiff Monoprint
69
Foliage
Tierney Schiff
90
Monoprint
“Bone Study,” Moli Ma, Acrylic Painting on Newspaper and Map
8
“American Hockey,” Lars Ernberg, Digital Imaging
Painting Floral Woods
Matthew Crispi
Acrylic on Canvas
4
Bone Study
Moli Ma
Acrylic on Newspaper and Map
8
Flock
Anna Raleigh Acrylic on Canvas
The Destruction of My Desires Failenn Aselta
Acrylic on Canvas
13 24
From Above
Emma Castiglione
Acrylic on Canvas
34
serenity
Alexandra Schwartz
Acrylic on Paper
41
Study Number One
Laine Partington
Acrylic on Paper
50
Mandolin Player
Haley Bloch
Acrylic on Canvas
70
Abstracted Landscape
Maya Klein
Acrylic on Paper
76
Finch
Chloe Kekedjian
Oil on Masonite Board
91
Pond
Elise Scott Acrylic on Canvas
Window in Córdoba
Maria Minuesa
Oil on Masonite Board
92 101
Digital American Hockey
Lars Ernberg
Digital Imaging
9
Red Riding Hood
Meg Adams
Digital Collage
23
Satanas Malleatoris Incus
Matthew Murphy
Digital Illustration
62
Sleeping
Meg Adams Digital Imaging
20
9
“Bone Study,” Samantha Schwartz, Oil pastel Drawing on Newspaper
10
Drawing Sleepy Anonymous Graphite on Paper
5
TIME IS LIQUID
Alexandra Schwartz
Chalk on Chalkboard
6
Hummingbird
Chloe Kekedjian
Pastel on Paper
7
Bone Study
Samantha Schwartz
Oil Pastel on Newspaper
10
you have my heart
Alexandra Schwartz
Ink on Paper
18
Femur Jenna Volpitta Graphite and Paper on Wallpaper
19
City Rebecca Taylor Ink on Paper
29
Untitled Olivia Schwartz Graphite on Paper
39
be casual
Alexandra Schwartz
Graphite on Paper
40
happy happy
Leo Van Munching
Digital Drawing
42
ink gem Alexandra Schwartz Ink on Paper
43
Portrait of Bertrand Russell
Jack Maguire
Graphite on Paper
54
switchblade
Leo Van Munching
Digital Drawing
55
small potatoes
Alexandra Schwartz
Graphite on Paper
64
buyshoesonline!! now!
Leo Van Munching
Digital Drawing
74
Wrench Moli Ma Graphite on Paper
75
Chilly Stroll
Leo Van Munching
Digital Drawing
80
Unknown Sigil 37
Leo Van Munching
Digital Drawing
83
Inner Archdemon
Leo Van Munching
Digital Drawing
85
Lighthouse in Galicia
Maria Minuesa
Pastel on Paper
90
Miss Me?
Leo Van Munching
Ink on Paper
98-99
Rhinestone Eyes
Leo Van Munching
Digital Drawing
96
11
Photography
12
The Veil
Meg Adams
Digital Photography
Cover
The Veil II
Meg Adams
Digital Photography
1
Midday Fog
Emma Duryea
Digital Photograph 14-15
The Veil
Abbey O’Meara
Gelatin Silver Print 17
Stripes
Lucia Wiggers
Digital Photograph 21
Menemsha
Isabelle Stone
Digital Photograph 26-27
Brooklyn Bridge
Brendan Casey
Digital Photograph 30
Deserted Pickup
Sam Boston
Gelatin Silver Print 31
Skater 8
Sam Boston
Color Photograph
Zion
Brody Menzies
Digital Photograph 32
Desert Road
Cate Van Elslander
Digital Photograph
Zebra
Jack Durvasula
Digital Photograph 33
Cacti
Lucia Wiggers
Digital Photograph 36-37
32 33
In Pursuit of Magic Bridget Dalton
Digital Photograph 44
Bard Light
Bridget Dalton
Digital Photograph
Railroad
Emma Duryea
Gelatin Silver Print 47
Submerged
Meg Adams
Digital Photograph 48-49
The Veil
Emma Castiglione Digital Photograph 52
Abstracted View
Jack Fitzgibbon
46
Gelatin Silver Print 52
Desolate Landscape Rutger Zenner
Digital Photograph 53
Mountain Mist
Rutger Zenner
Digital Photograph 53
Song Of The Sea
Bridget Dalton
Digital Photograph 56-57
Narnia
Bridget Dalton
Digital Photograph 65
Diamond In The Rough, Stratton Jack Conti
Digital Photograph
66-67
Oh, The Places We Will Go
Gelatin SilverPrint
68
Kathryn McCarthy
Portrait of Eugene Bridget Dalton
Digital Photograph 71
The Veil II
Meg Adams
Digital Photograph 72-73
The Veil
Claire Watson
Gelatin Silver Print 77
Blood Wall
Matthew Murphy Digital Photograph 78-79
Hemingway
Ping Ryan
Digital Photograph 81
The Road To Anywhere
Cate Van Elslander
Digital Photograph
Chilmark
Isabelle Stone
Digital Photograph 86-87
82
Nature’s Triptych Emma Cropper Digital Photographs 89 Shallow Bridget Dalton Digital Photograph 94-95 Blood Lake Emma Duryea Digital Photograph
97
Basil Goose Ansaldi Gelatin Silver Print
97
Vague Schuyler Keno Digital Photograph
102
Cup of Coffee Lucia Wiggers Digital Photograph
104-105
The Virtue of Light and American Pride
Nick DiCorpo
Gelatin Silver Print
80
Iconic Due Alexandra Schwartz and Brody Menzies Digital Photograph The Veil III Meg Adams Digital Photograph
97
106-107
The Veil II Meg Adams Digital Photograph
108
“Flock,” Anna Raleigh, Acrylic on Canvas
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The Next Step Dominic DeMarco
“Midday Fog, Emma Duryea, Digital Photograph
14
Who am I but a rabbit in the web of life Fumbling into the crosshairs of a hunter’s longbow Wandering blindly in a forest maze, alone But for looming presence unknown and unseen? Who can say if to my flesh a poison arrow flies To drain away the hope of future bright Or if before my feet lie traps of fallen leaves To pull from underneath my progress sweet? Who knows if this labyrinth has a center Or if the route to my goals can be achieved Perhaps it is easier to accept defeat And slowly stew in eternal failure.
What then would become of my hapless self If the arrow pierces my fragile skin And I enter the realm of endless void From which no death pact or dark bargain can save me? A shadowy voidwalker I would become Shuffling through the chills of endless night Searching for meaning in darkness unlimited Never again to see triumphant light. Unable to escape I know I would be As one cannot move when one cannot see Upwards mobility cannot be achieved When the doors to redemption are locked from above.
So what choice have I but to carry on Along this dismal, dreary, dangerous road And face the perils of a hunter’s mark Inside this wretche d and cursed maze? To nothing will I concede my inner fire As with ironhide I will take the blows Endure traps of venom and dodge arrows poisoned Competitive spirit lighting the way to an exit. I shall fight against the boundless energy of this world Seeking arcane intellect known to few Conquering the power overwhelming Sculpting the world with mind of swords. 15
One Layer Mia Mitchell
Struggling to stay afloat in quicksand that will never let up drowning in a sea of words that apparently define her Realizing that her identity was held in the hands of others that her personality wasn’t hers to determine That their first assumption of who she is is only what she’ll ever be Her identity solely revolves around her given word a singular trait that defines her existence
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“The Veil,” Abbey O’Meara, Gelatin Silver Print
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Imprisoned Kristen Beaumonte I hate that you make me hate What I want to love. For when my eyes meet yours, I see truth in every Painful lie. The love I want to feel Claws at its prison. But you built barriers That are too strong, There’s no escape. But I will take A chisel to your wall And pound the hammer on it. Whenever I can muster strength, Sparks will fly. I can’t bear it any longer, How you stab my flesh And pull my hair. I will put up a fight, And this time I will win.
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“you have my heart,” Alexandra Schwartz, Ink on Paper
“Femur,” Jenna Volpitta, Graphite and Paper and Wallpaper
19
“Sleeping,” Meg Adams, Digital Imaging
20
“Stripes,” Lucia Wiggers, Digital Photograph
21
Black Lines Bilal Memon I like to draw lines on my paper. I don’t doodle or sketch. I just draw straight black lines. Sometimes, they’re packed real close and thin -A monochromatic forest. But mostly I draw in thick, spaced-out strokes. Euterpe bangs and screams against her inky jail. Finally, she breaks free. I jot down my thesis, sentence, rap lyric -- before she runs away. Sometimes, the idea doesn’t come. Euterpe slinks into the corner of her cell And I’m left an idiot, scratching away at my paper. The television says computers are coming for our jobs. That creativity is what makes us human. But you don’t have creativity. Dylan, Shakespeare, Homer didn’t have creativity. Creativity had them. Like a virus, She latches on, does her damage, and then disappears. Or not.
22
“Red Riding Hood,” Meg Adams, Digital Collage
23
“The Destruction of My Desires,” Failenn Aselta, Acrylic on Canvas
24
dilapidation Alexandra Schwartz a marigold cast over it all countless attempts to make a mark bleeding and overlapping amongst each other “abstract intelligence� names of all shapes and sizes slightly rumbling on these tracks traversing the water and the roads faint red glowing beneath yet another tunnel wires and spires on which they balance we sway again blinking the delicate light sleep from my eyes a pale gradient from the softest, most gentle blue to the audacious marigold decelerating the steady rhythm slows we stop swaying and come to a halt
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The Space In Which We Dissolved Sydney Adamsen The space in which we dissolved-does it taste of us? Security lights, barefoot, gray sheets, wet heartbeats, the open window My heart slips backward, remembering, remembering Different people alone in the daylight Than we were together in the dark Fight against a brother, fight against the ticking clock, against a future It didn’t matter that we couldn’t win Because you made my brain quiet And i didn’t have to invent a thing. You told me last week You saw someone with my eyes That despite our history Somewhere in your nights you’re stuck when you think of me Why is the measure of love loss? It feels more like an empty stomach than a broken heart So much of you still runs through my blood And in my splintered dreams there’s always you I do not regret it one bit. 26
“Menemsha Isabelle Stone, Digital Photograph
27
The City Jack Thies
A puff of smoke disappeared from her lungs into the city air Loud voices and flashing lights with no signs of stopping The flickering fluorescent bulb wasn’t like the sun back in Ohio Guess this was home now
Loud voices and flashing lights with no signs of stopping A small apartment in Flatbush across from the local bodega Guess this was home now The cold late night walk to her last shift at the diner
A small apartment in Flatbush across from the local bodega Rent was due in three days and she knew she didn’t have the money The cold late night walk to her last shift at the diner If only she hadn’t met him
A puff of smoke disappeared from her lungs into the city air The flickering fluorescent bulb wasn’t like the sun back in Ohio Rent was due in 3 days and she knew she didn’t have the money If only she hadn’t met him 28
29
“City,” Rebecca Taylor, Ink on Paper
“Brooklyn Bridge,” Brendan Casey, Digital Photograph
Phantasmic City Will Pond Sweet smell of ginger lingers in the air Sounds of waves crashing fills the empty space Vast skylines of rooftops, they’ll catch your stare Birds sail through the sky and soar with such grace; The quick cool cars cruise by the side lane trees Leaves fall and scratch the surface of the street Crowds gathering under their sweet trees glee The smell of the scene, oh it must be sweet; Along the young whining brook, you might find The tender sweet creatures of this great land They live in shadows of the infant time They march in this city as one strong band; Although yet this phantasma may not seem, This unknown world is but an empty dream.
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For Your Information Rebecca Taylor I hit your car in my driveway as I left the house If I’m honest, I forgot you were there and only remembered when my car backed into yours But I was distracted and had a lot on my mind and your car was already pretty beat up anyway (Inspired by William Carlos Williams)
“Deserted Pick-Up,” Sam Boston, Gelatin Silver Print
31
“Skater 8,” Sam Boston, Color Photograph
“Zion,” Brody Menzies, Digital Photograph
32
“Desert Road,” Cate Van Elslander, Digital Photograph
“Zebra,” Jack Durvasula, Digital Photograph
33
“From Above,” Emma Castiglione, Acrylic on Canvas
34
What If? Laine Partington What if it rains peanut butter And we all drown in a sludge of trans fats? What if barbers revolt And chop off our noses with their shears? What if all music is replaced And a fork scraping a chalkboard takes its place? What if all art is covered by googly eyes And they are secret government cameras? What if sheep can no longer bleep And that causes people to never fall asleep? What if popcorn became the currency And buttery fingerprints were all we could see? What if the children had no homework And they could play and dream all day? What if pressure and expectation disappeared And I no longer lived a life ruled by fear? What if you stopped loving me And I stopped breathing as collateral damage? What if you spend your life thinking “What if � And you forget to live? 35
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He Fell From The Sky Clara Pakman He fell from the sky with alarming rapidity Wind-whistles screeching at bright-blue lucidity Sapphire cloud-mess hastens the plummet From some other-earthly and vanishing summit He drops like a stone! A bird never-flown! Gasping and frantic Flailing and panicked Nearing the imminent sporadic brightness A final blue tint And suddenly (whiteness)
“Cacti,� Lucia Wiggers, Digital Photograph
37
To Bare Or Not To Bare Lynden Steele
Those who want to argue that gender equality is the practice of the day just haven’t gotten dressed for a co-ed school.
It’s Saturday evening in the Pem-
gender neutral bathroom; in contrast, the
broke quad. I release my hair from a high
guys on the hall are clearly unburdened,
ponytail and begin to unpack the clothing
opting to stay in the t-shirts and athletic
I had rescued from the back of my draw-
gear that got them through the day. As fe-
er before my visit. Georgia stands beside
male students (and visitors, I should ad-
me, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles
mit) give in to the pressure to sexualize
from her black crop top. We’d quickly
their appearances, and guys chug beers
realized, during our first trip to Brown,
and play Fortnite, I can’t help concluding
that our everyday (and even weekend)
that guys have it better. In the halls of my
clothing just didn’t work for this thing
high school and the residence halls of lib-
called higher education. Going out col-
eral institutions, girls get mixed signals,
lege-style demands a full face of makeup,
but one message is clear: dress in ways
a belly-baring top or low-cut tank, short
that work best for your male counterparts.
shorts or maybe a skirt. Heels and wedg-
es, though not uncommon, are thankfully
optional. It’s too early for me to test my
ken feminist, but, standing in the halls
ability to drink socially and navigate my
of this Ivy League university, I can see
way back to my sister’s dorm in stilettos.
the myth of gender equality crumbling.
Weren’t we supposed to be the genera-
Between 8:30 and 9 pm, female
tion that was raised free of rigid stereo-
students begin to prepare for the evening.
types and expectations? But here we are,
Georgia and I watch, at first in amusement,
Georgia and I, tying red and yellow Harry
as girls try on and reject outfits and work
Potter ties around our necks and letting
to perfect makeup in the overcrowded 38
I’m not an intellect or an outspo-
(continued on page 40)
“Untitled,” Olivia Schwartz, Graphite on Paper
39
them drop down the meager cleavage
Marge Piercy’s “Barbie Doll,” raised
we’ve carefully exposed. The dominant
on “GE stoves and irons/and wee lip-
Brown social dress code is a clear affir-
sticks
the
color
of
cherry
candy.”
mation of the fact that, despite equality in the classroom, women still feel pressure
I should have taken the hint that
to dress up like tempting gifts, pleasing
boys rule the world in middle school, in
to male viewers, whether physically or
the cafeterias and classrooms of St. Luke’s
visually. I want to think we are the girls
School. That’s where the adults in charge
or women who can have it all, be power-
first offered me the unspoken rule of el-
ful and provocative, but I feel more like
ementary education: don’t tempt or distract the boys. I was all of eleven years old when a female teacher boldly approached me in the girls’ locker room, pressing her cold metal ruler against my bare leg to point out that my uniform skirt was actually “way more than” three inches from the top of my knee. I was pouring coffee in a Styrofoam cup when a Spanish teacher slut-shamed me, warning me that my short skirt “would give boys the
“be casual,” Alexandra Schwartz, Graphite on Paper
40
wrong idea.” My advisory discussed, as a group, whether my skirts were too short or my legs simply too long. I vividly remember that my friends argued that my legs were too long, while the two teachers insisted it was the skirt, which I “needed to should
replace
immediately.”
be
coursework,
Boys
concentrating not
on
my
on
anatomy.
“serenity,” Alexandra Schwartz, Acrylic on Paper
Those who want to argue that gen-
sky grows darker and the parties empty
der equality is the practice of the day just
out, I watch cautious girls dressed up like
haven’t gotten dressed for a co-ed school.
fancy presents looking for walks home.
While guys are oblivious, neither fearful of
While the guys move through campus
turning girls on during the school day nor
without any noticeable concern for safety,
carefully dressing to be appealing, we girls
the reality of being female comes to light.
dress under pressure. No tight pants. Tight
Georgia and I adjust our tops to keep out
skirt. Hide your legs. Bare your breasts.
the damp November air, turn our heads
My short time on a progressive college
away from the catcalls, and I think to my-
campus reminds me of an unfortunate
self, “To every woman a happy ending.”
truth: it’s a man’s world. As the Providence
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Thinking About A 50 Word Story Ajit Akole I threw the pink ball against the wall, caught it, and threw it up again. Could the ball go through the wall and into the atmosphere only to fall back down and hit Ms. Olshey’s annoying cat? Maybe by quantum tunneling. A pink flash hit me square in the face.
Common App Adiah Price-Tucker “This experience has shaped me into the person I am today and who I aim to become. This trial will always stay with me and remain a reference point for inspiration when I am faced with a challenge. Getting lost on my trip to the Swiss Alps was life-altering.”
“happy happy,” Leo Van Munching, Digital Drawing
42
Me Hope Jackson This is my fifty word story. This is a story about me and my inability to write a fifty word story. Anything I would say in fifty words is pointless anyways. I prefer long explanations. I’m sorry you had to read this. It was a waste of your time.
“ink gem,” Alexandra Schwartz, Ink on Paper
43
“In Pursuit of Magic,” Bridget Dalton, Digital Photograph
44
Lucia Wiggers
45
“Bard Light,” Bridget Dalton, Digital Photograph
Regret Sophia Dellarusso He now realized what he had to do. Catch the flight before it took off. She was leaving, and he thought he would be okay. When he arrived he was too late. He didn’t know the pain he would feel until she was gone. The nurse wouldn’t let him in. 46
The Metro Station Hannah Haden A 4x4 photograph fell out of his pocket, running to catch the 6:00. She lives in California now chasing impossible dreams. He stayed behind to work the 9-5. Losing sleep like he lost her, he thinks the picture was a lousy consolation prize. Even that too now is gone.
“Railroad,� Emma Duryea, Gelatin Silver Print
47
“Submerged,” Meg Adams, Digital Photograph
“riding north” Tucker Menzies
“flushing” the Yemeni guy at the bodega counter still doesn’t know my goddamn name. i’ve bought a five hour energy and a snickers every weekday for the past three months. i guess he sees a lot of white dudes who look the same as me. i know i sure do. you know the way that the february air bites your cheeks in new york city? i don’t notice it so much anymore, nor do i give thought to the black matter in the snow/sludge. all the shocks and sights are compounded in singular being, and i’m there too for now.
48
“august 18, 2017, in public” i saw a guy who looked like a husky tupac shakur shaving his head in the minnesota-st. paul airport bathroom. his shirt was fully off, he had brought a bluetooth speaker to soundtrack the experience. i wish i had been in that bathroom in the same joyous headspace that chubby 2pac was. but i saw him when i walked out, past the sinks and the stupid paper towels and after i had gotten it all out. i’d been in that bathroom, in the last stall on the left side, for what felt like a full hour, just crying like a b****. like a p*****. like every term in history equating women to weakness. but it was a woman who’d made me cry in that stall. maybe less a woman and more a girl. she was a girlfriend, but wouldn’t be for long after that. i still tell myself i love her sometimes, like when i hear certain songs or see a ferris wheel. maybe she feels the same way. maybe she really is as busy as she said she was when she didn’t have the time for me. 49
“Study Number One,” Laine Partington, Acrylic on Paper
50
Concerto for Words John Krill Andante A girl frolics in a field. Her dress is a dull yellow, and her hair has just been let down. She dances in silly, unsophisticated circles, and the grass parts at her feet as she moves. She is not particularly graceful, her movements are not rigid. But there is something magical about how she moves. She is free. She falls and grass hands rise from the ground to catch her. She lays and she laughs. The sun lights her face and her smile makes the plants around her a little greener.
Allegro A band plays at a wedding. The upbeat tempo keeps the guests on their feet, showing off dance moves, knowing that no one will watch, but everyone will see. The cake in the corner anxiously waits to be cut and served to all. At the front of the dance platform are a new husband and his bride. Only time will tell how their love will play out. But for now, at least, they are in a state of pure bliss, despite what their parents, the bridesmaids and groomsmen have to say. It is not the champagne, or the white dress that makes them so entranced with one another. It is not the rebellious phase of youth which they are in, and it is not the desire to fulfill society’s expectations. It is true love.
51
“The Veil,” Emma Castiglione, Digital Photograph
“Abstracted View,” Jack Fitzgibbon, Gelatin Silver Print
52
“Desolate Landscape,” Rutger Zenner, Digital Photograph
“Mountain Mist,” Rutger Zenner, Digital Photograph
53
Dear Dad Max Lyakovetsky Dear dad, I have taken The car out For a wash The one you’ve Been working on For some time I left the windows down Forgive me, the splashing Reminded me Of my favorite waterpark. (Inspired by William Carlos Williams)
“Portrait of Bertrand Russell,” Jack Maguire, Graphite on Paper
54
“switchblade,” Leo Van Munching, Digital Drawing
Strangers Chase Zammit The young waiter walks up with down before her and she hands him the a witty smile. She is caught off guard by
paper in utter silence. They both are lost
his charm and the sparkle in his eye. Her in each other’s gazes, paralyzed. Eventupupils dilate as he talks. All of his words
ally, the waiter corrects his attention, and
blur together because she cannot man-
says, “Pick you up at 8?” She responds, “28
age to take her focus off his features. The
Millhouse Road.” Once he walks away, she
waiter speaks up, “Excuse me Ma’am, any-
grins, takes out her notebook, and begins
thing to drink?” She blushes and quickly to draw him in a steel box, gagged and responds, “Coffee please, extra milk” with
tied to her bedpost. She details the sketch
a recovering wink. The waiter smiles and
with her instruments hanging from the
fetches her coffee. Once he returns, she
walls. She then circles and labels all of his
has already written down her number
weaknesses, planning for the night ahead.
on a paper napkin. He places the coffee 55
“Song Of The Sea,” Bridget Dalton, Digital Photograph
56
I Flood Amelia Wyckoff how did you turn my forest fire into running water? was I so weak that my flame only flick-
yet somehow I am still a slave to this world, this life, this wonder, this love -
ered, so small you could snuff me out? I was not made with fire in my belly just to be doused by you. You didn’t realize I am torrential; I don’t mist, I flood I don’t seethe, I storm, a tsunami in the making. a wave breaking with one push drowning cities with a crash. you made me just a trickle when I am a frothing ocean. you are not my moon, determining what path my tides shall follow, there is so much more than you. There is: the never ending barrage of beauty almost painful, sharing it makes me sound vain, full of joy, I glow, full of tears, I pour, I wash over life like a tidal wave
unrequited, unreturnable, unmatchable. I crave an intensity you can’t comprehend. is it even real? when I sing can anyone feel what I feel? they are stoic, as if made of steel. iron so hard that it withstands one hundred blows. my metal is malleable, reformed by my woes. they do not feel the weight of the earth on their shoulders they do not feel the pain of millions in their hearts they do not feel the current of the world coursing through their veins until each hair stands erect sizzling with a chord sung in unison, a raindrop tasting of spring, a word on a page that pierces my core like a dagger. my heart bleeds, my soul quakes but never, never for my own sake.
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Tucker Menzies
Look Emma Castiglione Look, I spent fourteen of your dollars On a 3 ounce Jar of chocolate Spread Forgive me, I know you said not to Waste Your Money On stupid things And that You really don’t Like chocolate The jar promised to save The elephants And, Frankly, That was reason enough For me (Inspired by William Carlos Williams)
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“Satanas Malleatoris Incus,” Matthew Murphy, Digital Illustration
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Classroom Clash Matthew Murphy Anyone want to start a fight? We are in school not even a bar. It’s 8:30 in the morning. We all start talking about who would win. We are in school not even a bar. It started as a joke. We all start talking about who would win. The class starts deciding who is strongest. It started as a joke. Tucker said it first. The class starts deciding who is strongest. It turns into a full brawl in the classroom. Anyone want to start a fight? It’s 8:30 in the morning. Tucker said it first. It turns into a full brawl in the classroom.
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“small potatoes,� Alexandra Schwartz, Graphite on Paper
I Do Not Want My Tears To Be In Vain Kristen Beaumonte When you make me cry, catch my tears and bottle them. Put them in your pocket and carry them with you wherever you go next. Remember them when you come upon dry earth with wilted flowers. Water the blooms, and you will have learned. I forgive you. 64
The Trees Are Graying Tucker Menzies
“Narnia,” Bridget Dalton, Digital Photograph
The trees are graying and it’s quiet at noon again. They’re all inside with pencils, text messages, caffeine. The air smells how morrissey sounds, somber winds and falling leaves like a major 7 chord. That same car is parked there, where I saw him touch her, I know he did.
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Under My Thumb The Pendulum Staff
While I was visiting my lemur’s crawl space in Anchorage, my potato leaked soup all over my scooter under my thumb.
Scooters are for people who can’t handle bikes. Lemurs are for people who can’t handle monkeys. This safe-space-trigger-warning society has gone too far! They’ve killed the real America and thrown its sad corpse in the crawl space. If you believe what they say, Anchorage will be drowned by the ice caps by Christmas (not the holidays) and all the ocean’s garbage will have turned the Pacific to potato leek soup. 66
I hide in the crawl space, my heart pounding. I hear scratching sounds like it’s still upstairs. I check my surroundings, scanning for supplies. Four cans of potato leek soup. Enough to last me a week. My stomach grumbles, but I push the feeling to the back of my mind. I have to focus on survival. I feel a sharp, rusty nail -- not much of a weapon, but it will have to do. Crrreeaak! I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Its little claws scrape the slate steps. He’s going to find me, I suddenly realize. I catch sight of a scooter in the corner. Maybe I can make a run for it and head to downtown Anchorage to hide in the throng of shoppers. I crack open the door and peer out. Darkness.
“Diamond In The Rough, Stratton,” Jack Conti, Digital Photograph
Suddenly, I hear a swish of a tail and a monkey-like chatter. As I look into the darkness, a huge pair of yellow lemur eyes blink at me. A tear drips down my face. I’ll never make it out alive. Nevertheless, I brandish my nail and prepare to fight.
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“Oh, The Places We Will Go,” Kathryn McCarthy, Gelatin Silver Print
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“Arizona,” Tierney Schiff, Monoprint
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“Mandolin Player,” Haley Bloch, Acrylic on Canvas
Jeromy Gerome Lucia Wiggers Tadpole, tired of his watery home; mucky floor, decomposing curtains, modest furnishings. The particulate in refracted green light felt suffocating. Seeing the listing for a fresh new place, he grew a pair and took a chance. Bursting through the bright white doors, he took a deep breath. “I’ll take it!”
“Portrait of Eugene,” Bridget Dalton, Digital Photograph
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vignettes of her; more joyous Tucker Menzies “meg.” that’s her name. short for megan, of course. megan elizabeth. her parents are named molly and greg- they thought it’d be a hoot to combine theirs for hers, so she was “meg.” i always joked that“grolly” would have been better. she lives in saint paul, minnesota, and somewhere deep in my heart too. both places are far from where i am at present. both are cold in january, but in that june held a trillion sparkling wines and peach-colored suns ready for sleep. she reminds me of a hundred bands that she doesn’t know the names of. i know she’s out there dancing, her strong legs and vibrant smile on display for some other judge -- she’s won two state championships, as it goes. i care more for the dance we shared in june, that golden low ceilinged room in santo domingo where the ladies teased at our motions and we collapsed laughing. she was meringue and merengue, like few can be. 72
“pantone-130” Tucker Menzies she loves that dark but vibrant yellow of schoolbuses and suns drawn in the corner. i loved how she could say such things. she stumbled through a sentence but i’d never correct her but we know it and laugh.
we were in peru together when we slept in those little yellow homes where we ate yellow potatoes and huddled around the yellow fire, where the ladies’ yellow calluses touched the flames and they didn’t say a word. i wanted to go a million other yellow places with her, where the trees are far apart and the cities all hold homes.
“The Veil I,” Meg Adams, Digital Photograph
73
College Wash Room Chris Besgen The windows at either end of the laundry
and empty, their lids flung open, with
room were open, but no breeze washed
crudely drawn signs that said “Broke!” A
through to carry off the stale odors of fab-
long shelf partially covered in blue paper
ric softener, detergent, and bleach. In the
ran the length of the wall, interrupted
small ponds of soapy water that stained
only by a locked door. Alone, at the far
the concrete floor were stray balls of mul-
end of the shelf, sat one empty laundry
ticolored lint and fuzz. Along the left wall
basket and an open box of Tide. Above
of the room stood ten rasping dryers,
the shelf at the other end was a small
their round windows offering glimpses of
bulletin board decorated with yellowed
jumping socks, underwear, and fatigues.
business cards and torn slips of paper:
Down the center of the room were a doz-
scrawled requests for rides, reward offers
en washing machines, set back to back in
for lost dogs, and phone numbers with-
two rows. Some were chugging like steam-
out names or explanations. On and on the
boats; others were whining and whistling
machines hummed and wheezed, gurgled
and dribbling suds. Two stood forlorn
and gushed, washed, rinsed, and spun.
“buy shoes online!! now!,” Leo Van Munching, Digital Drawing
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“Wrench,” Moli Ma, Graphite on Paper
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“Abstract Landscape,” Maya Klein, Acrylic on Paper
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Holiday Horror Clara Pakman T’was the morning of Christmas And amongst cake and pheasants Two children were crying By a tree with no presents. Not a creature was stirring As the doleful clock ticked To the tale of two parents Who still believed in Saint Nick.
“The Veil,” Claire Watson, Gelatin Silver Print
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After All These Years Leo Van Munching
Lat - Long (41.113342 – 73.481798)
Something missing. A crime committed. An innocence corrupted. 1 foot under. ... Feel free to go look for yourself. Take it with you
You’ll be taking the guilt off of my hands.
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“Blood Wall,” Matthew Murphy, Digital Photograph
“Chilly Stroll,” Leo Van Munching, Digital Drawing
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“The Virtue of Light and American Pride,” Nick DiCorpo, Gelatin Silver Print
A Triptych of Haikus Mrs. Spencer, Tucker Menzies, Brendan Casey
Statistics is Fun Dot plots transform histograms Visualize you
together, online always doesn’t always mean forever// no time
I love the darkness I wish there was never sun The shade is tranquil
“Hemingway,” Ping Ryan, Digital Photograph
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“Road To Anywhere,” Cate Van Elslander, Digital Photograph
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Burn and Learn Cate Van Elslander You charge out of the driveway with
While driving the brutally low speed lim-
an added adrenaline rush from the almost
it behind someone too dinosaur to drive,
accident you just caused from pulling out
you begin to notice the scenery. The
too early. The road becomes a twisty, turny
brown farmhouse at the end of the hill,
mess gazing at the empty-looking branch-
full of empty dreams and weeds. A brick
es and grey skies above you. I usually pass
country house placed right next to a mod-
the church on the corner of the street
ern mansion. It’s the same drive you make
right as some harsh word is blasted from
morning and night, but now it becomes
the first song that came on in my “Cloud
completely different. Things are brighter,
9” playlist. Still, I don’t feel guilty. It’s a
clearer, almost dream-like. It doesn’t seem
dreary day. The type of day that makes you
real. Like at any point, you could wake up
reminisce about the warm breeze blowing
in a cabin in Kentucky, living another life.
through your hair on a casual drive in Au-
About halfway through the drive, the idea
gust. The type of day that causes you to
of school settles in and it becomes more
dream about all the better days, though in
bearable. Right as you pass the quiet hous-
your case, there might not be too many.
es still whispering with weekend energy.
“Unknown Sigil 37,” Leo Van Munching, Digital Drawing
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Max Lyakovetsky 84
“Inner Archdemon,” Leo Van Munching, Digital Drawing
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Beneath The Veil Prompts G Period Creative Writing Class Everyone thinks that I’m a regular person, A human going to school and doing normal activities. My true underlying form is a scaly, serpentine snake alien From far away in a distant galaxy across the ever-expanding universe. Nobody knows this, except for you, so I need to memory wipe you with my extraterrestrial technology now.
People would be surprised to know that I am married to Odell Beckham Jr, but we are keeping it low-key for now. We got married years ago in Greece and honeymooned in Guatemala. He couldn’t live without me.
Everyone thinks that nothing will get better. For the rest of your life you’re screwed for something you did at 16. But when you are 23, graduated, and working, you come to realize none of it even mattered. If you won’t worry about it in 5 years, don’t worry about it for 5 minutes. 86
Everyone thinks that I could beat them in a fight, But I probably couldn’t But maybe I could,
“Chilmark,” Isabelle Stone, Digital Photograph
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Ready For Lunch Kristen Beaumonte and Kate Stamoulis
What’s for lunch? I don’t know but I ordered tacos. Score! Well geez no need to rub it in I can smell the guacamole from here I hate weirdly squishy foods Well if you think about it like that all foods sound unappetizing And yet we have to eat What an awful world we live in It could be a lot worse I guess, but lately it feels like that I don’t like to think about it I just feel like it keeps getting worse, the news and everything else. It’s hard to escape it Then move to a different world I hereby declare myself the ruler of Kate World, all are welcome You know what I mean...Don’t you? That you want to be the KateWorld Vice President? Sure, I’ll allow it
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Well thanks, but no. Haven’t you ever gone to another world? In the literal sense, no, in the figurative sense…. I guess? Good. In that case we both have hope. So the only way we can have hope is to go to “another world”? That’s just the first step. Then what? Then you bring your other world here. I like that idea. Well that makes two of us…
“Nature’s Triptych,” Emma Cropper, Digital Photograph Triptych
All this is making me hungry, ready for lunch?
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“Foliage,,” Tierney Schiff, Monoprint
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“Lighthouse in Galicia,” Maria Minuesa, Pastel Drawing on Paper
“Finch,” Chloe Kekedjian, Oil on Masonite Board
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“Pond,” Elise Scott, Acrylic on Canvas
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I Will Be Diamond Kristen Beaumonte
Am I or Am I Not The portrait of myself I’ve painted Still incomplete. For What meaning doth have magnificence When blinded by bearer’s love? Thus I’m but A portrait of glass, seen as often as the breath of nature. No more than a window meant only to Pour waterfalls of light onto those below, Keeping none as its own. How’st that I, so easily cracked, do Not shatter? I will strengthen to Diamond: not the fabric Of stars but of the moon in velvet sky. Cratered And cracked completely, yet still Creating motions of waves with but a whisper. I am but the moon, waxing and waning, Reflecting light but producing none of my own. I once hath been the sun, but too brightly shining Burnèd inside out. For no longer Can I dream myself to be A wingèd creature, nor can I so faithfully Trust in what my eyes didst not perceive. In present suspended Like a hatchling pushed, gone from the nest Without knowledge of flight. Poised to plummet But if made of diamond will learn to fly.
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Where Oceans Meet Lizzy Adamsen Upon the icy threshold of the still A faceless shadow, polishing a shell The burden lacking ruin would witness fill With feathered wings of beauty not to tell Of simple places our two bodies met One flowing to the east, and, of second Nature, the other west. A snaked inlet Woven together, while all but threatened The smoggy connect of a thought too late. She suddenly linked when the spiked line ceased And as wayward claws reaching for the bait A rigid tip of purpose which she creased Just as a leaf will fade in the winter Or as once sheen wood, will rot and splinter. 94
“Shallow,” Bridget Dalton, Digital Photograph
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“Rhinestone Eyes,” Leo Van Munching, Digital Drawing
“Basil,” Goose Ansaldi, Gelatin Silver Print
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“Blood Lake,” Emma Duryea, Digital Photograph
“Iconic Duo,” Alexandra Schwartz and Brody Menzies, Digital Photograph
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Ice Laura Mercedes When demons played with man’s immoral eye A looking glass of loathing they designed Which for the viewer image falsified With turn of love to mis’ry in the mind. Then to the ground the beasts flew down their glass For Lucifer to marvel and exhaust 98
“Miss Me?” Leo Van Munching, Ink Drawing on Paper
But when they flew a gale by god was cast Untimely from the skies that glass was tossed It soared from tempest-winds to earth below In fractals cruelly sharp and coldly tender To pierce the heart I yearned so to bestow With frost that nips the robins of December. Now in a glassy prison I must lay For ice is only melted by love’s ray. 99
Civic Engagement Jack Thies
“I can’t help but think you aren’t fully understanding the scope of this mistake,” Debra said. Bryce looked confused, “Honestly mom I don’t understand what the big deal is.” “The car is in our kitchen! How do you not see the big deal,” she said. “Agree to disagree I guess,” he said sarcastically. “Honey there is a Honda Civic next to the oven I don’t feel I’m blowing this out of proportion,” she said. “Mom I’ll do it tomorrow, just chillax,” Bryce replied. “Don’t tell me to “chillax”, Bryce. Just wait until your father comes home,” she responded. “Good, he’ll be on my side of this,” Bryce said. “He’ll be on the passenger’s side because you managed to get the car in the kitchen,” she responded, loudly.
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“Window in Córdoba,” Maria Minuesa, Oil on Masonite Board
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“Vague,” Schuyler Keno, Digital Photograph
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“Votive,” Lucia Wiggers, Stoneware Sculpture
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The Pendulum Staff Bilal Memon Ajit Akole Meg Adams Max Lyakovetsky Chloe Kekedjian Tucker Menzies Sarah Powless Lucia Wiggers Georgia Rosenberg Amelia Wyckoff Brody Menzies Lizzy Adamsen Kristen Beaumonte Hannah Matthew Kate Stamoulis Emma Seel Mae “Ping” Ryan Alexandra Schwartz
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“Cup of Coffee,” Lucia Wiggers, Digital Photograph
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Acknowledgements Editors: Ajit Akole and Bilal Memon
azine, ensuring that the artistic vision of The Pendulum comes to life on the page.
The editors are the heads of the staff and oversee all activity within the group. They lead the weekly staff lunch meetings and initiate discussion among the group while reviewing written submissions.
The editors review artwork as
well, working closely with the Art Department to find pieces to photograph and archive. They have final authority on the acceptance status of all submissions. They also encourage the school community to submit pieces, whether it be on an individual level or at a Town Meeting during the school day. The editors decide the order of pieces as they appear in the print and contact all those necessary to
Faculty Advisor for Literature: Stephen Flachsbart The job of the faculty advisor for literature is to generate enthusiasm for creative writing and to establish a sense of what is good literature. He also helps set the bar for what constitutes “publication quality,” and fosters a positive environment with room for constructive criticism. As head of the English Department, he provides the staff with a variety of student works from his and other teachers’ classes, works which ultimately constitute a major portion of the magazine’s litera-
ensure the publication of the magazine.
ture. He is the anchor of The Pendulum,
Layout Designer: Meg Adams
a squall of unidentified literary submis-
and without him our ship would drift into sions and incomplete acknowledgements.
The layout designer is in charge of the entire aesthetic component of the magazine. She works with the Art Department to determine visual design and places all written works and artworks. The layout designer also reviews all the works before placing them in the mag106
Faculty Advisor for Art: Jeorge Yankura The job of the faculty advisor for art is to aid the art editor and the contributing artists in preparing for the final design of the magazine. Through this process,
she is responsible for teaching InDesign
make this typeface easy on the eyes and
to the layout staff and also helps in edit-
attractive for the reader’s experience.
ing and general artistic direction. If Mr. Flachsbart is our anchor, Ms. Yanku-
Adobe Hebrew was created in 2004-2005
ra is the wind in our sails. She sees the
by John Hudson of Tiro Typeworks. This
magazine to completion every year and
serif-style typeface was specifically cre-
works tirelessly to ensure its aesthetic val-
ated for contemporary Hebrew business
ue, originality, and conceptual integrity.
communications. The Pendulum staff was attracted to the shape and crisp nature of
Technical Notes:
the letters in this type family, which allows for ease of readability by the viewer.
The fonts used in this volume of The Pendulum include Playfair Display Italic for
The Pendulum was created using Adobe In
headers and titles, and Adobe Hebrew
Design from the Adobe Creative Cloud.
Regular for text bodies and page numbers. The 2018 edition of The Pendulum was Playfair Display is a serif-style typeface
printed with a Kodak NexPress 2500
from the Playfair Project, led by Claus
Digital Production Color Press, at Im-
Eggers Sørensen, and is inspired by both
pression Point Printing by Robert La
the Scotch Roman typefaces and sim-
Banca. It uses Enhanced Dry Ink that
ilar designs of John Baskerville, both
produces a consistently high image qual-
from the Eighteenth Century. First re-
ity, providing vibrant colors, consistent
leased in 2011, this typeface features
spot color matching, smooth flat field
relatively consistent vertical height in
and gradients, and the unique ability to
both capital and lower case letters, mak-
match the ink gloss level to the substrate
ing it ideal for printed material.
being printed.
The
bold bodily shape and delicate hairlines
The paper used is Ap-
pleton Utopia II Matte Ivory 80# Text. “The Veil III,” Meg Adama, Digital Photograph
107
“The Veil II” Meg Adams, Digital Photograph