Stone-cutters 2014

Page 1

stone-cutters

harvard-westlake school

2014

stone-cutters

2014 Harvard Westlake School 3700 Coldwater Canyon Studio City, CA 91604 Phone: (818) 980-6692 www.hw.com Editor-in-Chief Julia Aizuss ’14 Literary Editors Kacey Bae ’15 Louly Maya ’14 Viisual Ar rt Editors Emma Lesher-Liao ’14 Danielle Stolz ’15 Alisa Tsenter ’14 Selection Committee Alisha Bansal ’14, Kaleigh Bergmann ’15, Emma Graham ’15, Jonathan Heckerman ’15, Emma Kofman ’16, Hannah Kofman ’14, Melanie Krassel ’15, Robert Lee ’14, Eric Lin ’14, Sacha Lin ’16, Chelsea Pan ’14, Rachel Porter ’16, Sam Schlesinger ’15 Production Jensen Davis ’16, Alex Gordon ’16, Marissa Karo ’16, David Ozen ’16, Dora Schoenberg ’16, Lauren Song ’16, Francesca Walker ’16 Faculty Advisers Amber Caron, Cheri Gaulke, Sasha Watson, Jen Bladen stone-cu cutters is printed by Southern Cal a ifornia a Graphics in Culv l err City, Cal a if. on 70# dull enamel paper stock c , and uses Georgia a typefface. Th T e production staff uses sev e en of the school’s Dell PCs. 750 copies were distributed i free on campus. ’ 4 Front cover: Emma Lesher-Liao ’1 Ode to Orthodontia: Walnuts and wir w e Back cover: Luke Soon-Shiong ’14 Yart of the Recluse (Solos): Acrylic on canvas

stone-cutters is an art and literary magazine written by and for students at Harvard-Westlake School. The editorial staff meets as a student-run, afterschool club. Submissions were solicited by an all-school e-mail, and juried by the student staff.

Contents 2 Self Portrait with Mountains Eric Lin ’14 3 Inside the Galle Fort Xenia Viragh ’15 4

I can’t write Rebecca Katz’15

5

Sock Sarah McAllister ’15

6 I Will Fade Out

Kayla Dillard ’15

7

What’s out there? (El Salvador) Alberto Rivera ’14

8

Patient 307 Sydney Foreman ’14

9 Shell Jordan Ellison ’15, Sophia Gonzalez ’15, Anne Kim ’15, Xenia Viragh ’15, Katie Zipkin-Leed ’15 10 Steffany

Hannah Kofman ’14

11 I’ll Take It To Go Danielle Stolz ’15 12 Mottled Jade Cups

Koji Everard ’15

14 Rise and Grind Audrey Wilson ’15 15 Glass Bottle 16 PM

Robert Lee ’14

Louly Maya ’14

17 Untitled

Scott Nussbaum ’15

18 (waterbed) Ethan Weinstein ’15 19 Now What

Luke Soon-Shiong ’14

20 This Is Not a RISD Bike Christopher Yang ’14 21 Untitled

Mazelle Etessami ’14

22 Portrait of a Young Woman and her Father Matt Leichenger ’14 23 Daphne, A Bildungsroman Julia Aizuss ’14 26 Samson and Delilah Aidan Yetman-Michaelson ’14 28 Perseverance Josh Shapiro ’14 29 Untitled

Melanie Krassel ’15

30 Faible Jacob Goodman ’15 32 Untitled

Eli Caplan ’14

34 Untitled

Lauren Lee ’14

35 A New Perspective Alisa Tsenter ’14 36 Faithful Hannah Kofman ’14 37 Packrat

Sammi Ho ’16

38 Tube Sock Emma Lesher-Liao ’14 39 Go On Clare Chou ’15 40 something to say Levi Craske-Curtin ’14 41 Mathis Darby Caso ’14

Big Ideas Wood, tin can, silicone, graphite, paper and a pencil Liza Woythaler ’14

Inside the Galle Fort wPhotography Xenia Viragh ’15

2

L01_HW_stonecutters_FINAL2014_PAGE2.indd 1

5/16/14 9:29 PM

Self Portrait with Mountains Acrylic and ink on board Eric Lin ’14

3

I can’t write. I can’t write Because I’m nervous to read this. %HFDXVH , VLW RQ D FROG ZRRGHQ Ă€RRU VWDULQJ DW D SL[HODWHG JORZLQJ JUH\ VFUHHQ DQG HWFK RXW VSDFH LQ P\ KHDG WR UHOD\ GHWDLOV WR P\ QRQH[LVWHQW DXGLHQFH %HFDXVH WKH VWUDQJH NLQG RI EXWWHUĂ€LHV ULVH KLJK DQG RQFH , DFWXDOO\ GR KDYH DQ DXGLHQFH , FRXOGQÂśW VD\ IRU FHUWDLQ ,ÂśG ÂżQG WKH EXULHG FRXUDJH WR UHDG WKH ZRUGV DORXG I can’t write. I can’t write 6LQFH ZULWLQJ LV WKH RQO\ WRRO Âą WKH WKRXJKWV LQ P\ KHDG Ă€RZ OLNH D VXGGHQ FROG OHDN RI water from a burst pipe. Since the thoughts remain in the real estate between my ears, listening to stories, my ear a safe haven for others as I struggle to get out my own words. I can’t write since all I want to do is write. I can’t write. I can’t write When I have to wait to be asked the question When the answer is always the same – “I’m good, thanks, and you?â€? I can’t write. I can’t write

4

%HFDXVH , WKLQN WKDW WKH SHUIHFW FUDIWLQJ RI MXVW WKH ULJKW ZRUGV LV FRQ¿QHG WR D SDSHU DQG SHQ %HFDXVH , FRQFHQWUDWH WRR KDUG RQ D FROOHFWLRQ RI SDUDGR[HV ZKHQ , VKRXOG UHDOO\ JR RXW DQG H[SHULHQFH WKHP P\VHOI I can’t write because I sit and wait. Because I don’t know what the outcome will be and I don’t know why I’m so afraid of that. Because I’m caught in the white space and knowing too little.

between knowing too much

I can’t write. I can’t write because I’m nervous to read this. Rebecca Katz ’15

Sock Carved Styrofoam Sarah McAllister ’15 5

I Will Fade Out (inspired by I Will Wade Out by E.E. Cummings) we will fade out, then, our biggest dreams and aspirations will be as distant as the swirling cosmos as untouchable as your beating heart we will not settle until then, we will discover, learn and love until the sun beams from within our sincere and tired eyes our story will be recorded in the steps we took we will not fade we will go out as quickly and as beautifully as lightning

Kayla Dillard ’15

6

What’s Out There? (El Salvador) Photography Alberto Rivera ’14

7

Patient 307 Oil on canvas Sydney Foreman ’14 (Opposite) Shell Photography Jordan Ellison ’15, Sophia Gonzalez ’15, Anne Kim ’15, Xenia Viragh ’15, Katie Zipkin-Leed ’15 8

I’ll Take It To Go Water color pencil and gouache on cold press board Danielle Stolz ’15

10

Steffany You hated her so I agreed. When she laughed through walls. And wore Mickey Mouse But I liked her Hair yesterday And her earrings And she’s nice I think it was the braids stuck on her head /LNH WZR H[SRVHG VHFUHWV And that she didn’t wait for the shuttle and walked instead But made the decision so quickly that it was worth it. We waited For the shuttle and our hands stung and our skin drained And we grew angry and annoyed and older Meanwhile she was walking With a girl with a nose ring A coat over her knees And her knitted hair made a hat But her ears were out and cold And on the shuttle we wondered if we would see her outside Young and walking And our knuckles stung in the slowly warming air And we immediately forgot to look

Hannah Kofman ’14 11

12

Mottled Jade Cups Glazed stoneware Koji Everard ’15

13

Glass Bottle Once, , VSLOOHG DOO P\ PR[LH EXW NHSW WKH ERWWOH There I trembled with an empty glass.

, JDYH LQ WKRXJK DQG ¿QDOO\ WULHG EHHU Believing the conviviality could inebriate my spirits, I only became overly sentimental and in need for sobering up. But coffee didn’t work so well. The glass was too cold And I got tired of smiling at people I passed by. Brooding, I stumbled across a water fountain. Though it became so clear, Nobody would ever know what I was drinking. Sometimes I felt like heaving that bottle up in the sky, %XW LWœV ZRUWK ¿YH FHQWV KHUH LQ &$ And probably more in a different state. Oh, what should I imbibe?

Robert Lee ’14

(Opposite) Rise and Grind Photography Audrey Wilson ’15 15

PM Carla waits on the edge of the tub as the water runs. Dave isn’t home yet. Dave hasn’t been home before nine o’clock for the past three months. A lot of work, Carla, I have a lot of work. Carla believes him and believes KHÂśV ZRUNLQJ IRU QRZ 7KHLU ÂżYH \HDU DQQLYHUVDU\ LV LQ WZR ZHHNV 7KHUHÂśV no mark on the calendar for dinner reservations or show tickets like there has been for the past four years. Carla can’t tell if Dave really did forget, RU LI KH LV WU\LQJ WR WULFN KHU LQWR DQ[LHW\ IRU DPXVHPHQW 7KDW ZDV RQH RI WKH WKLQJV VKH OLNHG DERXW KLP ZKHQ VKH ÂżUVW PHW 'DYH KLV ZLFNHG VHQVH RI humor. 7KH ZDWHU ÂżOOV H[DFWO\ Ă´ RI WKH WXE MXVW WKH ZD\ &DUOD OLNHV DQG VKH WXUQV the knob off. Before she can get in, the phone rings. “Hello?â€? she answers. “Carla, it’s me,â€? the voice sighs. Dave won’t be home till midnight. A lot of work, Carla, I have a lot of work. Carla laughs. Dave tells her not to wait up, not to make food for KLP DQG QRW WR OHDYH WKH OLJKW RQ +H FDQ ÂżQG KLV ZD\ LQ WKH GDUN 'DYH is sorry. A lot of work, Carla, I have a lot of work. Carla says it’s okay, she understands. Carla is a very understanding person. She returns to the tub and sinks slowly into the water. It’s almost hot enough to burn her bare skin. It’s electric, but she likes it. Carla sits in the bath as the water slowly loses heat and her skin slowly prunes until she is left shivering, wondering why she has stayed in it for so long.

Louly Maya ’14

(Opposite) Untitled 0L[HG PHGLD SKRWRJUDSK\ Scott Nussbaum ’15

16

17

(waterbed) we were awake while everyone else slept ZH WDONHG RI MHOO\ÂżVK and your eyes didn’t close for three minutes at a time i listened as our kaleidoscopic conversation drifted in out and our eyelids fell with the push and pull of the moon we fell asleep — ÂżUVW \RX WKHQ PH ² reading out loud as what we thought was the sun started to rise we couldn’t turn it off so the lamp stayed on all night i woke up with corduroy lines pressed into my arms and while the notsun rose we didn’t know if we should too and i am sure the tide was going out — even from so far away i could hear the waves breaking softer and softer as i drove homeward pushing the speed limit to its limit

Ethan Weinstein ’15

18

Now What Acrylic and sand on canvas Luke Soon-Shiong ’14 19

This Is Not a RISD Bike Graphite Christopher Yang ’14

20

Untitled Photography Mazelle Etessami ’14

21

Portrait of a Young Woman and Her Father Acrylic on wood Matt Leichenger ’14

22

Daphne, A Bildungsroman An Introduction Her Critical Reading score had stagnated at 690, and Tate returned to her childhood. She descended to the basement of the Odd, toting in one arm what used to require two. Books she dog-eared at seven, ten, sometimes as late as thirteen: The Chronicles of Narnia, The Phantom Tollbooth, The BFG. Her taste for fantasy when she was younger had not translated into a taste for what she sometimes called high literature, delicate pages encased in ivory towers she could not reach. No Rapunzel in this world to let down her hair. Thus, the Critical Reading score.

A Scene After school, the latest practice SAT results in her hand, January. Her school college counselor encounters the stagnation with penciled-in raised eyebrows, lowers the papers to her lap. She says, “Didn’t you use the word ‘welkin’ in an email to me once?â€? Tate sits on her hands, although she solved her nail-biting problem in WKH VL[WK JUDGH DQG UHDOO\ KHU KDQGV ZRXOG EH XVHIXO ULJKW DERXW QRZ because a couple strands of hair have slipped in front of her face, dark streaks cordoning off her vision, like: you shall not pass. Hadn’t she sent the guilty email back in ninth grade, or tenth? Wryly: “Well—once.â€? +HU FRXQVHORUÂśV QRVWULOV Ă€DUH ZLWK WKH IRUFH RI KHU FKXFNOHV 7DWH VPLUNV ZLWK WKH SOHDVXUH RI D UHOLDEOH TXLS ZHOO ODQGHG 7KH\ UHOD[ ZLWKLQ WKLV tableau, which has repeated itself ever since Tate’s PSAT sophomore year.

$ &ODULÂżFDWLRQ True, Tate could ably employ the word “welkin.â€? Tate was fond of words OLNH ZHONLQ 7KUHQRG\ ÂżUPDPHQW KDPDUWLD²VKH UHOLVKHG ZRUGV ZLWK D certain majestic heft to them, a dash of antique rust. But she had no use for ÂłGLIÂżGHQW ´ ZKLFK DSSHDUHG RQ KHU 36$7V DQG SUDFWLFH 6$7V DQG 6$7V DW DQ DODUPLQJ UDWH DQG ZKRVH GHÂżQLWLRQ VKH ZDV QRW DQ\ FORVHU WR NQRZLQJ She used “threnodyâ€? in her history term paper, and it came back to her circled in blue ink, with a hint of a chortle in the comment written in the margin: “A bit much, don’t you think?â€?

23

An Ekphrasis The basement of the Odd housed books whose decades-long presence had at last deemed them, maybe doomed them, unsellable. Unsellable, sometimes, by choice—here rested the books Tate’s dad hoarded in the dusty corners, unwilling to showcase to the purses of the public. He wasn’t as discreet as he pretended, but Tate didn’t begrudge him his hold on the ÂżUVW HGLWLRQ RI 7KH /DVW %DWWOH %HWWHU KLP KHU DQG 7KH 2G\VVH\ 8VHG Books than a tweedy antiquarian bookseller. Books rose around the room in stacks falling just short of towers, granting them the divine power to remain sturdy. Not that they would have IDU WR IDOO²D SRRO WDEOH KRJJHG PRVW RI WKH Ă€RRU DQG LW ZDV KHUH RQ WKH matted green felt, that Tate had often clambered when she was small to read whichever yellow-paged paperback she’d pulled with patient wiggles out of the overstuffed children’s shelf, lying on her belly between two leaning stacks of Pisa; and it was onto here that Tate now pulled herself, as a stack some inches away on the pool table quavered ominously. Her hair shook into her face with the force of her thump onto the felt, and she pursed her lips (between which a strand of hair was caught).

A Digression She’d cut it, the hair, short over the summer, with the half-formed, garbled thought of Reinventing Herself. But she’d cut it only three inches, and she felt just about the same. Somehow, though, the loss had impelled a change of temperament, if not in herself, in her hair. It frizzed thickly about her head now, obscuring her vision. More than anything (she realized one day, after an unwise head-turn thrust a thatch of hair in her face and nearly, in turn, caused a freeway accident) she felt as if she walked all day with her head in the clouds. Or stuck in the dirt, like an ostrich. Last Sunday, when business behind the register had slowed to a yawn, Tate ventured this second comparison to Miles, who she thought might ÂżQG LW DPXVLQJ ,QVWHDG KH VDLG Âł<RX NQRZ ZKDWÂśV UHDOO\ \RXU GLUW" 7KH basement.â€? “Shut up,â€? Tate said.

24

“I won’t let you leave the register if that girl comes again. I’ll trap you.� At the time, Tate hadn’t deigned to respond. As she opened The Last %DWWOH VKH VQRUWHG DW WKH UHPHPEHUHG H[FKDQJH DQG SXUVHG KHU OLSV (between which a couple strands of her hair were caught).

A Regression She knew how less-than-romantic a throatful of basement air redolent of yellow-paged books was, so she heaved an indulgent sigh—appropriate, she WKRXJKW IRU VRPHRQH ZLWK WKHLU KHDG LQ WKHLU FORXGV RU IRU DQ\RQH VL[WHHQ She thought about what Miles would call a “missed opportunity,â€? and what she would with histrionic lament call, maybe, a lost dalliance. Tate wasn’t sure how she felt about dalliances. That was something she had liked about FKLOGUHQÂśV IDQWDV\ LW ZDV YHU\ VXUH 7KH &KURQLFOHV RI 1DUQLD NQHZ H[DFWO\ KRZ LW IHOW DERXW IDLWK PRUDOV DGYHQWXUH 6KH FRXOG H[WUDSRODWH KRZ LW would feel about dalliances like hers, the ones she usually lost. The answer was Susan Pevensie, the sister left behind for her interests in frivolities— nylons, lipstick, parties—for her interest in what Narnia did not have. Tate had always been most interested in what Narnia had. Or in where the car of The Phantom Tollbooth would drive her, in the frobscottle the BFG drank, in how the Odd could replicate any of it. And when she realized at about twelve or so—in a moment of threnody, if you want to go there— that it couldn’t, she put down the books. Thus, the Critical Reading score. When she closed the books, she left the basement and moved on to the dalliances. Only this past spring, when her parents divorced, and her mom moved over the hill to the Valley—the Valley!—had Tate returned to the basement, where her thoughts began descending as she drifted off during SAT tutoring in Woodland Hills, staring at the head of that girl in front of her. Before that, she’d forgotten what happened to Susan.

A Sign, & A Coda For years, in her end-of-year evaluations, Tate’s English teachers wrote that she had “promise.� Tate wondered how long they could keep writing WKDW 7DWH ZRQGHUHG ZKDW LW ZDV H[DFWO\ WKDW VKH SURPLVHG ZKDW LW ZDV H[DFWO\ WKDW VKH UHSHDWHGO\ IDLOHG WR GHOLYHU

Julia Aizuss ’14 25

26

Samson and Delilah Ink on paper

Aidan Yetman-Michaelson ’14

27

Perseverance Photography Josh Shapiro ’14

28

Untitled Smog hazes out the Clear blue skyKilling the Birds that pass – Weights falling to the ground – they crash On Girls amid the Grass Burgundy paint now covers Green High pitched shrieks shake the earth Yet not a soul can hear the cries -For the Ground hates the Earth

7KDW QR[LRXV *DV ± ,W PDNHV *LUOV FRXJK ± The Grass – it wilts – The eyes grow wide When did the clouds turn Dark? Alas— A storm lurks, waiting to Attack When Suffocation takes its Toll What then be of our world? When the Firmament faints at last Our Ground will merely Fold

Melanie Krassel ’15

29

30

Faible Acrylic and pastel on cold press board Jacob Goodman ’15

31

32

Untitled Photography Eli Caplan ’14 33

A New Perspective Ink and black paper on cold press board Alisa Tsenter ’14 34

Untitled Oil on canvas Lauren Lee ’14

35

Faithful Please don’t question It’s not hard— Just move your family To my land And I will bring you legacy A dream for a promise 2 for 1 Please don’t question Just search for animals A pair of each kind And board them on an ark Hand built with no assistance Because you are righteous 'XWLIXOO\ LQGH[LQJ P\ JHQLXV JHQXV Please don’t question Just kill your son That’s all Throw in the charred ram, And I’ll double it Please don’t question The customer is always right

Hannah Kofman ’14

36

Packrat Camera Obscura Photography Sammi Ho ’16

37

38

Go On Quietly, your footsteps fall on the stone pathway that we paved together; the winding coils required long hours, where we paused our work to wipe our sweat away in the glorious rays, WKH ¿QDOH EHIRUH WKH GHOLFDWH satin stars winked at us to signal our rest, but we didn’t go inside; we lay on our work, held our hands together as the playful winds calmed, and caressed our cheeks and hair as we drifted off into the morning, when we open our eyes to see the birds À\ RII WRJHWKHU DQG the sun carefully hanging in the sky; it shines on us, only to realize our work is done, and we are back where we started

It’s your turn, now, to go on and build your own road while I stay here

(Opposite) Tube Sock Porcelain Emma Lesher-Liao ’14

and work on it some more.

Clare Chou ’15 39

something to say there’s something to be said

chest humming ‘cause you

about the way

keep taking parts of yourself out

you electrocute yourself

into the trash

these pretty thin wires seething through

out the backdoor

blood never meant to touch air,

down the sink

breaking out,

depositing these perfect pieces

and I’m not sure what the words are

trying to pardon the rotting,

‘cause I’m bad with my tongue

but with your makeup smearing

but you tell me there is no ugly, that

and your lips slipping into your gums

our organs care too much about us,

I know that this not a metamorphosis

that every cell in our body

WKHUH ZLOO EH QR EXWWHUĂ€\ ZLQJV DW

is devoted to maintaining the

WKH HQG RI WKLV H[SXOVLRQ

light in this vessel

every laugh rippling in your throat

but you –

crippling before sticking to the roof

compress your thighs with

this decay is wholly shattering.

KDQGV WKHVH H[SDQGLQJ ZKLWH NQXFNOHV

this decay makes me want to practice the words

squeezing until the cellulose yellows.

tell you you are more than your mistakes,

you’re always saying

more than your failures,

‘not my bruises,

more than that whittled soil in your garden

please just look at my eyes’

because bodies are hard to live in

these – the same.

bodies are almost impossible to live in

I see a blood sweet with glucose,

but there must be something said

sick with so much heavier

about the way you’re electric

I see a humor brittling and a bee hive in your

why are the words still stuck on my tongue

Levi Craske-Curtin ’14 40

Mathis Acrylic on skin Darby Caso ’14

41

2014

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