ISSUE
05 PORT CITY REV IEW
2017 P O RT C IT Y RVOLUME E V IE5W THE LITERARY ARTS JOURNAL OF SCAD 2017
A N OTE “ GOOD DESIGN IS OBVIOUS. GREAT DESIGN IS INVISIBLE.” JOE SPARANO
COPYRIGHT & COLOPHON Individual pieces contained herein are the intellectual property of the contributors, who retain all rights to their material. Every effort was made to contact the artists to ensure that the information presented is correct. No part of this journal may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the editorial staff and the adviser. Port City Review, established in 2012, is an annual literary arts journal showcasing the work of SCAD students exclusively via a submission process. Published content is determined by student editors. The journal was designed by Sydney Seifried, BFA Graphic Design, Dallas, Texas, using Adobe Creative Suite. COVER PHOTO BY CHANDLER JERNIGAN BFA PHOTOGRAPHY, BRUNSWICK, GEORGIA
PRINTED IN CHINA
STA F F Creative Director Sydney Seifried
Editor-in-Chief Pablo Portilla del Valle
P O RT C IT Y R EV I E W
Indonesia
Illustration, Ink and Adobe Photoshop Dionesia Dewayani Surabaya, Indonesia, BFA Illustration
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Hansel’s Bakery + Café
Branding Design, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Illustrator, Adobe Lightroom Unitha Ramirez Fort Lauderdale, Florida, BFA Graphic Design
Piñitas
Digital Photography Yaniurka Pedroza Manahawkin, Venezuela, BFA Photography
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A Moment
Animation, Adobe Creative Suite Natalia Serrano Mirimar, Florida, BFA Motion Media Design
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Sea Friends
Digital Illustration Meredith Jones Sugar Land, Texas, BFA Illustration
National Geographic Identity Animation, Adobe Creative Suite
Rachel DeMeyer Honolulu, Hawaii, BFA Motion Media Design
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Street art in the new world Typography, Adobe Photoshop
Thomas Gardner Stockbridge, Georgia, BFA Graphic Design
I Want to Go Back
Chewed gum on Wood Panel Daeun Kang Seoul, South Korea, BFA Painting
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Cat with Succulents
Animation, Adobe Photoshop GIF Christy Mercadante Lake Mary, Florida, BFA Illustration
27 Club
Graphic Illustrations, Adobe Illustrator Jennifer Estridge Middletown, New York, BFA Motion Media Design
Wart are you looking at? Self Portrait, Ink on Bristol Paper, Adobe Photoshop
Hikari Kobayashi Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, BFA Illustration
Bike Tracker
App Design, Adobe Suite Hien Le Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, MFA Advertising
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Don't Forget To Eat Your Breakfast
Animation, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe After Effects Natalia Serrano Miramar, Florida, BFA Motion Media Design
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Subliminal Reverie Digital Photography
Rob Crossno Littleton, Colorado, BFA Photography
Alibi App Design Story
App Design, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe After Effects Muhammad Burhan Karachi, Pakistan, BFA Interactive Design and Game Development
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IN RESP ON S E TO DOOM SDAY 1. “You and I, We Were Very Siken”
A man walks into a bar and tells you that you are beautiful enough to take his life so you laugh and buy him a whiskey. You get him drunk so he will tell you he is sorry, and you ask to take him home. You slit his kneecaps in the street and ask him why he is bleeding on your perfect feet -- after all, you made him promise not to bleed -- and he crawls to you again because he knows (he’s bleeding), and he begs your gracious pardon. He digs his fingernails into his arm and shoots up (beautiful crystal glass) again for you; no, that’s his father, but we don’t talk about that. He is still smiling, and you stare at his eyes; you remember that you adore him. You tell him you want more ghosts of him, and, one last time, you call him darling, your little beast. 2. I Ordered a Whiskey, Neat, Because It Sounded Like A Reasonable Order and I’m Not a Big Drinker yes, darling; you never asked but yes, i am still in love with you. and i am glad, oh-so glad that i make you so very beautiful. darling, you know i have always found you the most beautiful. your beautiful lips (taste like cream soda and whiskey and regret) and i became an alcoholic after you -- you, like my father, you made me think my father was very beautiful but I know now my father is a bastard, no, that’s you, but we don’t talk about that. darling, i am sorry (i loved you) more because you always knew more than i, always knew the rules of our constant cockfight because you hated birds and i learned to crow like a good pigeon and you learned to smile and not tell me that pigeons don’t crow so i learned to crow more and i knew you hated me and i tried to hate you. i don’t hate you. i don’t hate you. i don’t hate you. oh, darling, i still Alexander Brookins love you. Matthews, North Carolina, BFA Interactive Design and Game Development
Visions Cannon 5D, 70-200mm Samuel Rock Stockholm, Sweden, BFA Film
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Coloring Chance Kendrick Twigs Illustration, Pen and Gouache on Paper
Samuel Urquhart Birmingham, Alabama, BFA Graphic Design
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MA NUFACT U RED I hadn’t been to church in seven years, but here I was, walking hand in hand with some guy I barely knew in the clothes I had on the night before making our way to his church. I felt sick. The sun was burning down on us and my dress kept getting stuck in between my thighs. My hair was unwashed and matted at the nape of my neck and my heels chipped away at the scabs that had formed last night while my shoes filled with blood, but Jack was happy, smiling at me. I met him at the coffee shop next to my house and he seemed nice enough – I didn’t know just how nice at the time – so when he asked me on a proper date, I agreed. And when he asked me to attend church with him after he made me cum, I couldn’t say no. I tried my hardest to smile back at him, “So what exactly am I about to walk into?” “Well, it’s small. Nondenominational, mostly young people-” “That’s a thing?” “Of course it’s a thing,” he said. He hadn’t stopped smiling yet, “What denomination are you?” My ankle buckled underneath me and I stumbled. I felt the remainder of the scabs rip off my feet. I reached for Jack’s shoulder to balance myself and he placed his left arm around my waist to catch me. I should probably think it was sweet, but my stomach churned and I felt my hangover resurface and I wished I had eaten something that morning. “Thanks,” I said, putting enough distance between us so that his arm would drop, “I haven’t really been to church in awhile, but I used to go to a Lutheran church with my father every other weekend when I was a kid.” He took my hand again and we continued walking down the street. “Why every other weekend?” I’d never met anyone who smiled so much. It was unsettling. “I’m guessing your parents are still married.” He laughed then began to turn right into the entrance of an old theater. A woman with blue hair stood in the doorway waving us down. “Wait, where are we going?” I asked. “Church,” he said. The blue haired woman smiled and shook our hands, “Welcome. Jack, it’s great seeing you again and it’s even better to see you brought a new face. My name is Gina, it’s great to meet you.” “Hi, Gina. This is Amy. Amy why don’t you go inside and get some coffee, I’ve got to catch up with Gina, I’ll just be a minute,” Jack said.
COM M U N I O N “Alright. Nice to meet you, Gina,” I hesitated then headed into the dim light of the theater. To my surprise it was still a functioning business. I could tell by the faint smell of popcorn, the promotion for Fiddler on the Roof playing that afternoon at 3:00 p.m. (a play I had never seen, but had owned the album for several years), and the fresh stain of soda on the confetti patterned carpet beneath me. A group of people about my age, perhaps even younger, gathered around a cart holding a portable coffee machine. I had to squeeze through three layers of them, all dressed in pastels, and was forced to dodge each welcoming conversation that I did not want to be apart of. I filled a small, Styrofoam cup with black coffee and took a couple of napkins to stuff in the back of my shoes, then made my way to a corner on the side of the room. People were laughing and talking with those around them while I hid and tried to fuse myself into the wall. There was always some type of fear that I had whenever attending church that I could feel in the pit of my stomach and I felt it now. With a smile stapled onto each person’s face and the awful floral patterned sweaters and the nude panty hosed old woman clinging tightly to a worn bible made me feel sick. Almost like they were huddled around me, pulling me closer in to them, begging me to join. There was always something cultish about it. I stared down at my coffee and tossed it out. “Hey, what are you doing over here?” Jack found me and he wasn’t smiling so much so I calmed down. “I just needed some space,” I said. “Are you alright?” “Yes.” He smiled again and I held back the urge to vomit all over the faded carpet. He put out his hand, “Come with me and we’ll find a seat.” Jack led me into the first room on our right and I expected to see a place of worship, but instead I could hardly see anything, only a cloud of scentless smoke and tiny blue lights. I coughed, knowing intelligently that the smoke most likely caused by a fog machine would not have irritated my lungs, but it seemed like an appropriate thing to do. Continue reading at theportcityreview.com Isabella Roy Mount Juliet, Tennessee, BFA Writing
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Hong Kong
Digital Photography Emily Galvin Orlando, Florida, BFA Photography
Savannah Places
Digital Photography Minji Kim Mok-Po, South Korea, BFA Architecture
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Rumi
Illustration, Pen and Digital Sanaz B. Yazdani Tehran, Iran, MA Illustration and Motion Media Design
The Bees and the Flowers Illustration, Colored Pencil, Adobe Photoshop Amanda Surveski Harwinton, Connecticut, BFA Illustration
El Renacuajo Paseador
Typography, Adobe Illustrator, Adobe Indesign Laura Ramirez Medellin, Colombia, BFA Graphic Design
Origen Colombian Coffee
Illustration, Pencil on Paper Illustration and Adobe Illustrator Laura Ramirez Medellin, Colombia, BFA Graphic Design
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Minotaur
Leather Accessories, Materials: Cowhide, Gazelle, Antler, Bison horn, Horse hair, Human hair, Chain. Hao Fang Beijing, China, MA Accessory Design
A Tibet Room
Interior Design, Maya, Z-brush, Photoshop, Unreal Engine, substance painter, substance designer, UVlayout Xiaopeng Shen Beijing, China, MFA Interactive Design and Game Development
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American Red Cross: Thank You Animation
Eli Guillou Clayton, North Carolina, BFA Motion Media Design
Happy Androids
Animation, Adobe After Effects. Zachary Wood Edwardsville, Pennsylvania, BFA Motion Media Design
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Untitled
Digital Photograph, Adobe Lightroom, Adobe Photoshop Jonathan Oppenheim Atlanta, Georgia, BFA Advertising Photography
Throne
Digital Photograph Rachel Sandene Plano, Texas, BFA Illustration
Hispanic Heritage
Poster, Adobe Illustrator, Adobe Photoshop Jeffery Lawson Thomasville, North Carolina, BFA Motion Media Design
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Industrial Wood
Digital Photography Pablo Portilla del Valle Queretaro, Mexico, BFA Writing
Rigid
Handbuilt Ceramics, Blue Enamel, Horsehair Raku Jessica Russell Huntsville, Alabama, BFA Photography
Ottumwa, Iowa
Digital Photography William Glaser Weston, Connecticut, BFA Photography
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FULL The spring before I returned to my mother’s house I was singed. It was the season of undressing spring appeared violently magnolias burst out of their bodies bushes blossomed spring was peeling back what winter tried to cover and breathing it’s hot air on the last of the chill. And in response we laid vertically on striped blankets and plastic beds, bean-shaped pools and deserted beaches, creaky mattresses and tile floors, always lying, always undressing. I laid down straight on a quiet mattress with a nervous boy as he undid each button like plucking petals of a rose; delicate, apologetic.
BLO O M Not once did I think of my mother the way she pulled down my hems and hiked up my collars her constant covering and concealing of my body her scorching stare a disapproving burn. Instead I was two stories high, in full bloom, spilling seeds, coming out and through, expanding and taking in the space I had allowed for my body and growing it, unapologetically. Asli Shebe Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, BFA Writing
Laundry day
Digital Photograph, 35mm Digital C-Print Kiele Twarowski Buffalo Grove, Illinois, BFA Photography
Baby's Breath
Digital Photograph, Adobe Lightroom Stephanie Quirk San Antonio, Texas, BFA Photography
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TH ING S I’V E DONE FOR A KLONDIKE BA R Family dinners were important in my house growing up. Dad worked nights, so when he was home mom wanted us to be the perfect family. Mom and dad would talk about taxes, mortgages, or whatever it is parents talked about, while my older brother and I made faces and picked at each other because he was clearly “not touching me.” My parents were strict and they knew everything that happened under their roof, and until the age of six, I actually believed that. “Pass the fucking mashed potatoes, please.” My six-year-old self knew exactly what I was saying. My brother’s mouth hung open as he waited for a response from our parents. My dad glanced over at me, passed the mashed potatoes, and carried on his conversation with my mom. From that moment on I’ve been on a never-ending quest to see what I could get away with. When I was nine, I paid Cameron Juarez fifteen dollars and some Bazooka Joe bubblegums to punch me in the nose so I could leave baseball practice early. He only fractured it, but he still got the job done. At the age of thirteen I convinced my brother he had H7N3 — the goose flu — because he kept calling me the “family disappointment.” Weeks later when he confessed to our mother, tears running down his face, that he had contracted the goose flu because he went down to the pond to pet the geese again, she informed him that there was no such thing as the goose flu and he became the real family disappointment. High school was two-fold for me. On one hand I loved to learn, especially things I had zero interest in. On the other, sitting for eight hours straight
Speechless
Illustration, Ink and Gouache on Bristol Daniel Creel Miami, Florida, BFA Illustration
was torture. To make the time pass, my best friend Cheyenne and I would enable each other and cause a ruckus. Cheyenne was five foot nine inches of intimidating teenage angst. If looks could kill, she’d be the last person on earth. Her source of confidence came from her perfectly applied eyeliner and her ability to say whatever she wanted without fearing repercussions. Her ivory white skin could be picked out of the crowds in the hallways as she cleared paths with her attitude. We caused the most problems in study hall. Between a teacher who never came to class and our never-ending laughter, we achieved no studying that year.
Holt Fueler sat in front of us. Typically Cheyenne and I strayed away from the athletic types, but Holt had a bad attitude towards life and was always up to no good, making us the perfect friends. If there was a bad idea to be had, it was floating around inside his mind. One day Holt turned around in his seat and, with wide eyes, looked Cheyenne in hers. “I have a serious question,” he said. “What would you do for a Klondike Bar?” Continue reading at theportcityreview.com Cory Hott Hilton Head Island, South Carolina BFA Writing
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The City
Illustration, Autodesk Sketchbook Pro, Adobe Photoshop. Jack Rinderknecht Houston, Texas, BFA Animation
The SM Mix
Album Cover, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe InDesign, Adobe Illustrator Unitha Ramirez Fort Lauderdale, Florida, BFA Graphic Design
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SU N DAY
N I G HT
i called Jesus today to ask where He put my sweater that was laying on the edge of the brown armchair in the living room but He hasn’t called me back yet. i’d like to think that maybe His phone died, but i know He’s ignoring me because the phone rings twice and then goes straight to voicemail. i wonder if it’s because i came home late last night smelling like ash and whiskey. He says He can taste how mixed up I am, and calls me bitter because i won’t let Him kiss me on the mouth. But i don’t want him to know that Sazerac tastes sweeter than His sermons, even though it burns like hell. He says i need to stop drinking, but He doesn’t understand. i need that fire in my throat. i need to be warm. And He took my only sweater. Ciera Bowlby Milton, Georgia, BFA Writing
Destra
Graphite, Gouache paints, Felt-Tipped Pens, Embroidery on Business Envelope Francesca Killian New Orleans, Louisiana, BFA Illustration and Fibers
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Dear Taylor (poster sculptures) Photography, Adobe Illustrator
Amanda Shearon Portland, Oregon, BFA Graphic Design
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TH EME PA RK
1 01
It’s not a ride; It’s an attraction. Those people aren’t customers; They’re guests, and if they are disabled, the disability never defines them. This is theme park terminology according to Kelsey Pearson, even though she didn’t write the handbook. She just recites it like substitute scripture, because she really sucks at being Catholic. That’s why she likes working at a theme park. It’s her place of worship. She practices patience weekly with the most insufferable people -sorry- guests. Everyday is a another chance to bet on how many times she saves someone else’s kid from getting bitten by a duck. “Look at Mommy, Dodge! Dodge, look at Mommy!” The kid tries to feed a mallard some mushed up piece of what looks like a chicken nugget. How despicable, feeding a duck the guts of a distant cousin. The parents probably ordered that from the kids menu at the Indian food quick service bar, because Dodge can’t handle falafel. Kelsey measures heights at her attraction’s entrance, so it’s Alex who has to tell the parents not to let Dodge feed the fowl. “Hey bud, be careful, they can bite,” Alex says. He parks strollers near the storage lockers. The parents don’t listen, because they’re too busy livestreaming Dodge for Facebook. It’s fun to watch. Alex doesn’t really care, because it’s not his kid. The mallard doesn’t give a shit either. He waddles away, disgusted by Dodge’s efforts to feed him one of his own. And of course Dodge follows and trips with his face inches from the duck’s tail. Kelsey calls this particular mallard Walter. He’s been around long enough to know which kids to intimidate. Dodge isn’t worth his time.
Continue reading at portcityreview.com Emilie Kefalas Decatur, Illinois, BFA Writing
Gentrification
Digital Photograph Carly Starnes Waxhaw, North Carolina, BFA Photography
Look at Me!
Digital Photograph Andrea Mora Miami, Florida, BFA Photography
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Space Station Digital Illustration Xiaopeng Shen Beijing, China, MFA Interactive Design and Game Development
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Terra
Advertising Design Hien Le Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, MFA Advertising
Something
Illustration, Adobe Photoshop Rachel Noto Dunwoody, Georgia, BFA Illustration
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Space Fish
Illustration, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Illustrator Christy Mercadante Lake Mary, Florida, BFA Illustration
An Authentic Traveler
Digital Painting, Mixed Media, Adobe Photoshop Yeonji Pak Sungnam Si, South Korea, BFA Illustration
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Turning Pages
Illustration, Adobe Photoshop Alyssa M. Gonzalez Miami, Florida, BFA Illustration
A Blurry Conscience
Acrylic Painting on Canvas
Nap Time
Digital Photography Trevor Barnett Gadsden, Alabama, BFA Illustration
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YOU ’RE “You’re late.” I gave her a half-assed apology and took my seat at the polished, wood table. “You couldn’t at least wear something decent?” my mother whispered sharply, referring to my black mini dress. “Oh this? I knew you’d love it,” I replied, looking down at the deep V-neck and lace trimming. “So, what’s up?” I asked, faking interest. “You know I hate it when you use colloquial phrases. Talk like a lady. I did not put you through years of speech to hear you say ‘what’s up?’ like I’m one of your ‘pals’ or what have you,” she said. My mother graduated from Harvard, top of her class, received a masters’ degree in physics but went on to become a real estate agent because she – according to my father – was ‘too pretty for science.’ My father was full of backhanded compliments and my mother, critiques, aggressive, you-know-it’s-for-your-own-good, mother-knows-best, suggestions. “Yes ma’am!” I replied, pursing my magenta lips. I turned my chair at an angle and let my legs hang out; she kicked them back in place with her white stiletto. “Cut that out. I’m getting tired of – Iman, are those bruises? Are you biking again? This is why we bought you a car, so you wouldn’t have to parade around, skirt flying up, covered in sweat –” “–I thought you called me here to talk about something important?” I reminded her, motioning to the waitress. “Yes, well I spoke to your sister and –”
L AT E “– Great,” I said knowing where this was going. “She’s worried about you.” “She should worry less about me and more about her cheating, misogynist husband, now shouldn’t she?” “She said you haven’t been eating and that she heard you throwing up last night and you were crying and –” “If she’s so worried why isn’t she here?” I said my voice raising an octave higher than my mother deemed appropriate for public spaces. “Now, don’t go getting upset with me,” she whispered. “Well, I’m fine,” I said, just as the waitress brought my water. I drank it all in one go and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. My mother squirmed. “I’ve got to head to work,” I said. My mother reached into her purse, pulled out a white, personalized envelope and pushed it towards me. “There. That should be enough to get rid of it,” she said, glancing at her watch. I stared at her eyes – black diamonds in her skull – at her pale, paper-thin skin, the perfect lines of eyeliner on her lids, the nude lipstick on her lips, the touch of rouge on her hollow cheeks. She had no pulse, no blood running through her veins, not a single wrinkle in her face. She never laughed or smiled, so it made sense. “It” I said, “is your grandson.” I pushed back the envelope and left.
Asli Shebe Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, BFA Writing
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Look Closely
35mm Photography Madelaine Sieracki Springfield, Virginia, BFA Photography
Please Be Seated Digital Photograph Calvin Scott Tampa, Florida, BFA Photography
Untitled XVIII
Digital Photograph Vada Ortiz Moapa, Nevada, BFA Graphic Design
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Nighttime Forests
Illustration, Adobe Photoshop Alyssa Gonzalez Miami, Florida, BFA Illustration
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Exit Climbers
Digital Photograph Kyle Sevener Charlotte, North Carolina, BA Visual Communications
A Zul
Jewelry, Back stitch Embroidery and Netting, Glass Beads Juliana Vargas Barranquilla, Colombia, BFA Fibers
Room Number 5 (p. 104)
Digital Photograph, Digital RA-4 print Laura Beckerdite Winston-Salem, North Carolina, BFA Photography
Breath in, exhale
Digital Photograph, Canon 5D Mark ii Jessie Rubin Saint Petersburg, Florida, BFA Photography
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G RAB
Scrolling scrolling scrolling tab tab tab the feed feeds the starving socially unstimulated pop-offers because after the birthing of silver screens and hologram halos came the era of everything at reach of selfie, selfie, selfie of #, #, #, like, like, like of loss of self and self-esteem we’re like um, kind of, insecure and so definitely unsure we don’t know of loss or of love we don’t have to reach or to run take take take grab grab grab we are pushing plastic and rubbing on glass eating white light all night we are the oxymoronic parallel juxtapositions
the nonsensical nihilistic narcissists self-love and self-loathing we wear both hats on both hands and nooses like necklaces acid acid acid washed jeans neon skies, menthol smoke and mirrors so many mirrors, but we are only as bright as the flash of our phones and as deep as the denim we wear we speak in electronic tongues LOL BRB GTG abbreviating words so unsure of what we say putting fillers like rocks in our mouths only to hear each other cry when one falls, we all choke but a muffled cry is only as loud as the ear that listens even death is just at reach and we grab grab grab it every time. Asli Shebe Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, BFA Writing
Dam City
Digital Illustration Xiaopeng Shen Beijing, China, MFA Interactive Design and Game Development
Charge
Illustration, Ink on Paper, Adobe Illustration Oki Honda Tokyo, Japan, BFA Sequential Art
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Portrait Study 2 Oil on Canvas
Rachel Noto Dunwoody, Georgia, BFA Illustration
The Rougher The Seas, The Smoother We Sail Digital Photography Kimberlyn Curtis Bethel Park, PA, BFA Illutration
Sidewalk
Digital Photography Shannon Link Nashville, Tennessee, BFA Photography
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Untitled (Huff Puff) Etching
Megan Gregware Fleming Island, Florida, BFA Sequential Art
P O RT C IT Y R EV I E W
The Arrival Monoprint
Megan Gregware Fleming Island, Florida, BFA Sequential Art
Fortress
Digital Photography Pablo Portilla del Valle Queretaro, Mexico, BFA Writing
Choral Interlude Etching
Penelope Stone Tucker, Georgia, BFA Photography
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Bundie Supply Branding Design
Kailey Staiano Loveland, Colorado, BFA Graphic Design
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The Light Man Bust
Illustration, Adobe Illustrator Emma Kochis Chicago, Illinois, BFA Interactive Design and Game Development
Tea Kettle Design
Kitchen Product, Rhino 3D, Keyshot Lu Pan Shenyang, China, BFA Industrial Design
The Red T-Shirt Company Branding Identity Branding Design
Jeffery Lawson Thomasville, North Carolina, BFA Motion Media Design
Nature Photographer Rebrand Magazine, Adobe Illustrator, Adobe InDesign
Vada Ortiz Moapa, Nevada, BFA Graphic Design
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Living Room in Greenbush
Skidaway Island, Savannah, Georgia
Savannah Places
William Glaser Weston, Connecticut, BFA Photography
Kyra Schmidt Evansville, Indiana, MFA Photography
Minji Kim Mok-Po, South Korea, BFA Architecture
Digital Photograph, C-Print
Digital Photograph ,Silver Gelatin Lumen, Digital Inkjet Print
Digital Photography
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ZUHAUSE All Oma ever talks about is dying She sits in the splintering wooden chair at the end of the dinner table, shawl around her shoulders, bitter coffee staining her 94-year-old teeth She says she doesn’t want to shower, that she would rather die instead She says she doesn’t want to eat, that she would rather die instead Daddy says if she could will herself to death, she would Oma’s been this way since I can remember And I wonder if maybe that’s why Mama didn’t live with us when I was 10 maybe Mama felt the way Oma feels When I was 10 Maybe that’s why Mama left our pretty little blue colonial, why she went to work and didn’t come back, leaving me with frozen dinners, cold peas, Daddy could never get the noodles warm, there was always a icy spot I wondered how Daddy felt until I knew And then he was screaming at my brother before the sun had even found the strength to rise And then I heard Mama’s voice And my toes dug their way out of the covers And pressed into the cold, wood floor
Opposing Forces
Handbuilt Ceramics, Raku Glaze Jessica Russell Huntsville, Alabama, BFA Photography
But there they stopped when Mama’s voice turned harsh in a way I hadn’t heard it before And I curled under my blanket As there was a knock on the door Mama let a man with a gun on his hip into Our pretty little blue colonial And suddenly he was yelling at my brother, too And there I felt like Oma And I wanted my words to be bullets And I wanted it all to stop And I thought maybe when I am 94 and my enkelin is 10, I will talk about dying, too. Victoria Pallien Oakland, New Jersey, BFA Writing
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Grey’s Abyss
Adobe Photoshop Kristine Houston Chester, Maryland, BFA Interactive Design and Game Development
Mint Mountains Photography, Adobe Illustrator
Jayson Hahn Singers Glen, Virginia, BFA Animation
Dimension
Digital Photography, Adobe Photoshop Renata Ingerson Newport Beach, California BFA Industrial Design
Mr.
Self Portrait, Language Processing Lincoln Samuelson Freeport, Maine, BFA User Experience Design
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Delicate Growth Mixed Media
Caroline Reeder Alpharetta, Georgia, BFA Fibers
Twin Lifestyle
Digital Painting, Adobe Photoshop Grace Poole Los Angeles, California, BFA Illustration
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Princess
Digital Photography, Silver Gelatin Print from 35mm John Geshel Pinehurst, North Carolina, BFA Photography
I Shot This During a Hurricane Evacuation Digital Photography
Andrea Ramirez Mixco, Guatemala, BFA Photography
Carter Digital Photography Calvin Scott Tampa, Florida, BFA Photography
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Dasul Kim Seongnam, Gyeonggi, Korea, BFA Motion Media Design
Poster, Adobe Creative Suite
Black History
P O RT C IT Y R EV I E W
Light Pod
UV powered indoor plant pot. Maral Bikales Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, BFA Industrial Design
Flower and Bird
Digital painting, Illustration, Adobe Photoshop Aiwen Chen Tianjin, China, MFA Illustration
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TOUCH
Animation, Adobe Premiere Pro/ After effects Dasul Kim Seongnam, Gyeonggi, Korea, BFA Motion Media Design
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GR ASS Do you know That sometimes I will lie on my bed and think about dying If you are let in, you will see dead grass behind the stone walls and clay, burnt from too many scorching suns There is no reason I am weak I am ashamed So the walls, they are chilled Botched, painted over Nobody knows, yet That sometimes I will start crying when I listen to voices tell their stories Alone in my fortress, listening to words They sing of sunny days and iced tea and I will cry something like tenderness Salt water seeping through the cracks For a moment I feel human I am telling you about the grass and salt So that you will know when I open the gate and you slip, stealthy through you will know what to do
A N D SA LT Bring seeds, if you please some freshwater too For clay, it turns over and grass grows through cycles The weather, it comes extreme, with no notice So we’ll build an awning for shelter and warmth At the top of the structure I’ll tinker and toy Bent wire, I’ll straighten and stick in the sky Antennas, you see them? They’re there to catch words I’m telling you this cause you seem fairly willing Poncho prepared And your spade seems quite sturdy Though you’re not necessary for green grass to grow You might be like fertilizer or salt for the snow
Amy Stoltenberg Minnetonka, Minnesota, BFA Writing
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Painted Lady Illustration Color pencil on duralar Christina Perez Palm City, Florida, BFA Illustration
Snapdragon Illustration Color pencil, graphite on duralar Christina Perez Palm City, Florida, BFA Illustration
12 Tribes Bride
Digital Photograph, 35 mm Print Karina Rovira Altamonte Springs, Florida, BFA Photography
98
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Red
Digital Photography Angie Stong Hamden, Connecticut, BFA Photography
Oscilla
Organizer, Material: Thermoformed Styrene Plastic Esmerly Simé Segura Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, BFA Industrial Design
100
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Peachy
Lithography Print on Paper Sophie Wagman Zimmerman, Minnesota, BFA Production Design
Hand Renderings For Interior Spaces Watercolour and Copic Markers on Paper Sekaraya Surjaudaja Jakarta, Indonesia, BFA Interior Design
102
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What Does it Take to be Protected? Digital Photograph, Inkjet paper
Shelby Beatty Houston, Texas, BFA Photography
The Dreamweaver (p. 104)
Handcrafted Kayak, Materials: Red Western Cedar, Padouk, Wenge, Curly Maple, Zebra Wood, Epoxy, Fiberglass, Varnish and Flat Bungee. Claudia Miranda Caracas, Venezuela, BFA Industrial Design Jacob Kleinman Phillips Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, BFA Industrial Design
106
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Cold cases
Illustration, Ampersand Claybord, Higgins Black Magic ink, Scratch Blade Pens on Paper Alejo Porras Alajuela, Costa Rica, MFA Illustration
108
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Cloaked
Digital Photograph, RA-4 Print, Adobe Lightroom Kristen Rust Morganton, North Carolina, BFA Photography
We Rest Here
Digital Photograph Calvin Scott Tampa, Florida, BFA Photography
110
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Sunshade
3D Model, Rhino Bhavana Shyam Gaithersburg, Maryland, BFA Architecture
Fall Lookbook
Adobe After Effects Yeonji Pak Sungnam Si, South Korea, BFA Illustration
114
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STEE L IN My mother was built from the bones of the earth. She cut her teeth on a marriage to a man who loved like the papercuts on a backhanded apology, Stitched a rattlesnake to her tongue and learned that just because you’re shivering doesn’t mean you’re not a weapon. My father was a rabid dog, a cocktail of nasty temper and blue-collar pride, a good old southern bred sinner doused in hand me down church clothes that stunk of Marlboros. The knot was already tied by the time they figured loving each other was like trying to swallow Christmas lights for the heat, but just getting a liver full of glass instead. My filthy feet used to be pincushions for that rickety porch, hard calloused things that would stomp and studder down the stairs, the trodden tongue of the house that built me.
That dead end nowhere house with its peeling paper and thick with secrets the way a coal mine tastes like soot, black chalky things that stick in your throat and choke you til your eyes burn if you stay down there too long. I used to sit on that fence for hours waiting for the storms to pass, swing my wild dirt smudged little body and echo the creaking krr, krr, krr of the hinges with my rusty little voice box, too far from any neighbors who could hear the sound of a war brewing in my belly. When I was ten I watched the Wizard of Oz, And couldn’t stop thinking about where you click click clack your ruby heels home to when Home is a word shaped like a loaded gun, And maybe the Good Witch would be the one to Rip it’s roots from the dull packed dirt, Leaving nothing but that metal gate and a scab on the earth, Nothing but that krr krr krr whining in the wind. Mel Walton Savannah, Georgia, BFA Illustration
TH E SAN D BOX
Touch Series
Monoprint on Kitakata Jackie Moyer Doylestown, Pennsylvania, BFA Printmaking
Dogs
Monoprint on Kitakata Jackie Moyer Doylestown, Pennsylvania, BFA Printmaking
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The Kelly Bag
Leather Acccessories, Acrylic on Leather Elise Bennett Alma, Michigan, BFA Accessory Design
Wetland Flora
Print Pattern, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Illustrator Giuliana Tamasco Bogotá, Colombia, BFA Fibers
Moving On
Digital Photograph, Digital C-Print, Adobe Photoshop Keaton Boyd Ponte Vedra, Florida, BFA Photography
118
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Tanama Webcomic Promo Animation, Adobe Creative
Sara Ina Ramos Sepúlveda Utuado, Puerto Rico, MFA Sequential Art
12:04 p.m. (They told me not to take photographs at this time. I did it anyways.) Digital Photograph, 35mm
Andrea Ramirez Mixco, Guatemala, BFA Photography
120
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Spinal Sap
Photography, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Illustration Hannah Hightower Thomaston, Georgia
Winter Song
Illustration, Adobe Illustrator Laura Ramirez Medellin, Colombia, BFA Motion Media
Scartissue
Motion Media, Adobe Photoshop, Adobe Affer Effects Jennifer Estridge Middletown, New York, BFA Motion Media Design
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A RT IST IND EX See online works at theportcityreview.com Barnett, Trevor Beatty, Shelby Beckerdite, Laura Bennett, Elise Bikales, Maral Bonisteel, Nate Bowlby, Ciera Boyd, Keaton Brookins, Alexander Burhan, Muhammad Chen, Aiwen Creel, Daniel Crossno, Rob Curtis, Kimberlyn DeMeyer, Rachel Dewayani, Dionesia Du, Yingchuan Estridge, Jennifer Fang, Hao Galvin, Emily Gardner, Thomas Geshel, John Glaser, William Gonzalez, Alyssa Gregware, Megan
56 105 65 117 91 Online 43 118 19 18 92 40 17 69 10 2,4 Online 13, 122 29 25 11, 12 87 36, 79 55, 62 71, 72, 73
Guillou, Eli Hahn, Jayson Hightower, Hannah Honda, Oki Hott, Cory Houston, Kristine Ingerson, Renata Jones, Meredith Kang, Daeun Kefalas, Emilie Killian, Francesca Kim, Dasul Kim, Minji Kim, Dasul Kobayashi, Hikari Kochis, Emma Lawson, Jeffery Le, Hien Link, Shannon Mercadante, Christy Miranda, Claudia Mora, Andrea Moyer, Jackie Noto, Rachel Oppenheim, Jonathan
32 83 121 68 40 83 84 9 12 47 44 90 26, 80 93, 94 14 77 34, 78 14, 51 70 13, 53 104 48 116 52, 69 33
Ortiz, Vada Pak, Yeonji Pallien, Victoria Pan, Lu Pedroza, Yaniurka Perez, Christina Poole, Grace Porras, Alejo Portilla del Valle, Pablo Quirk, Stephanie Ramirez, Unitha Ramirez, Laura Ramirez, Andrea Reeder, Caroline Rinderknecht, Jack Rock, Samuel Rovira, Karina Roy, Isabella Rubin, jessie Russell, Jessica Rust, Kristen Samuelson, Lincoln Sandene, Rachel Schmidt, Kyra Sepúlveda, Sara Ina
60, 78 54, 114 82 77 6 97 86 108 35, 73 38 5, 42, 73 28, 121 87, 120 85 41 20 98 23, 24 66 35, 82 110 84 33 79 119
Scott, Calvin Serrano, Natalia Sevener, Kyle Shearon, Amanda Shebe, Asli Shen, Xiaopeng Shyam, Bhavana Sieracki, Madelaine Simé Segura, Esmerly Staiano, Kailey Starnes, Carly Stoltenberg, Amy Stone, Penelope Stong, Angie Surjaudaja, Sekaraya Surveski, Amanda Tamasco, Giuliana Twarowski, Kiele Urquhart, Samuel Vargas, Juliana Wagman, Sophie Wagstaff, Trisstah Walton, Mel Wood, Zachary Yazdani, Sanaz
60, 88, 109 7, 8, 15 65 45 37, 58, 67 30, 50, 68 113 59 100 75 48 95, 96 74 99 102 27 117 38 21, 22 65 101 111 115 32 27 124