Images student art magazine

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2 0 1 1 I M A G E S Student Art Magazine

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Annual student art magazine at Parkland College

Transcript of Images student art magazine

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I M A G E SStudent Art Magazine

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I M A G E SStudent Art Magazine

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In 1981, the first edition of IMAGES was published. It was supported and pro-moted by Joe Harris, chair of the Department of Humanities at the time. Af-ter a few annual editions, and then an extended hiatus, IMAGES reappeared in 2000 in its current soft cover format. Prospectus News has been publisher and promoter of the magazine since 2003. Each year, we approach the proj-ect with great expectations. This year, we are proud to present a selection of the finest works of traditional visual arts, graphic art, digital media, computer generated artwork, poetry, and non-fiction from Parkland College students themselves.

IMAGES provides valuable, hands-on experience with various responsibili-ties of magazine design and production. IMAGES also provides student-artists with a great opportunity to get their work published. A special thank you goes out to the Parkland College Student Government and the Office of Student Life for financial support and special assistance making this publication possible.

A special thank you goes out to the faculty of the Department of Fine Arts and the Department of Humanities. They are critical to the success of the publica-tion in both its content and promotion.

Last but not least, we thank IMAGES and Prospectus News advisor, John Eby for all that he does for these publications. We would not be able to do what we do without him.

A note on IMAGES guidelines:Submissions are accepted from Parkland students registered during the 2010-2011 academic year.

Interested students may submit a maximum of (6) works per category for consideration. A maximum of (3) works per artist will be selected. IMAGES staff members may make the maximum number of submissions, but may nei-ther promote nor judge their own entries.

For past IMAGES entries check out imagesmag.tumblr.com

IMAGES 2011 Staff

Art & Design DirectorSean Hermann

Production/Publication Advisor Additional Design John Eby Burke Stanion

Judges Website DesignMorgan Bernier Levi NormanMatthew Kopmann Kassy CoanDavid Busboom Patrick WoodEleni Kametas-HicksJames Albrecht

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compositeIVBrandon Burton

Package 3DBurke Stanion

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Windy DaySophie McMahan

Dinner PartySophie McMahan

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Family PortraitSophie McMahan

Bugs *Pledge Allegiance to the Swag*Melvin Martin

Draw

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Graphic Design

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Advertisement No.1 for the Champaign Urbana BalletBenji Frazzetto

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Harvard BridgeYusak Desyanto

Chance of LoveSkyler Crank

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Felis CatusRosalie Ierardi

Chicago, IllinoisPeter Zurich

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Reflected HeavensBriana Stodden

Winter ParkingJake Godin

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Built To SpillSean Hermann

Hurtin’ PurtyJake Godin

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Cap’N JazzSean Hermann

University of Illinois Dairy FarmRosalie Ierardi

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ForgottenNicole Black

Overpasses & RainJake Godin

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RENTNicole Black

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Poetry/Literature

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Based on a picture of a little chinese girl staring out a window on a rainy dayKelsey Sanford

The girl sits on the window seat letting her feet dangle off the edge singing a happy song quietly to herself. “And all the stars in the sky twinkle, twinkle, and the moon smiles down as papa kisses my cheeks, one, two.” Her song trails off into silence. She looks up, biting her lip. She rubs the dust out of her black eyes, and smiles sleepily. She hears a knock on the misty glass behind her. She turns excitedly hoping it’s a lost dog, or maybe even one of those kids in her class that never seem to know she’s there. A man covered in shadow stands on the other side of the window peering in at her with hooded eyes. He has on one of those sly detective coats that reach all the way to the ground. Papa has one of those. This man’s coat is black, the color of her eyes she thinks. She presses her hands against the glass. “Hi,” she mouths. She starts to smile, but the man shakes his head, putting a finger to his mouth. The girl likes being quiet, she doesn’t mind, but this man confuses her. She doesn’t know him. She thinks of how her pa tells her not to talk to strangers. This thought scares her. “Who are you?” she thinks. The man starts to move, and the girl thinks he’s leaving. She waves a silent goodbye as he dissapears past the window. A knock now at the door. The doorbell rings. A clock ticks away the minutes somewhere in the house, and she shivers feeling like something is coming. Papa isn’t home. She wonders is she should open the door; see if maybe that man now wanted to come inside. She stays still and silent on her window seat waiting. She hears a scratching, rattling sound, and then the door clicks. An abrupt, sudden noise, like the sound of a car horn just before Matthew Hong (5 years old) is hit with an MTD bus.

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Outside the place where his life beginsHe’s banging on the door screaming “let me in”They look out the windows with stupid grinsThey say “You have another task to begin”

He’s waiting and waiting and waiting some moreHe’s banging and banging and banging on the doorHe’s waiting and waiting and waiting some moreHe’s banging and banging and banging on the door

Ready for the world, ready for the futureReady for the wounds that he’ll have to sutureReady for the future, ready for the worldReady for the real life to unfurl

He’s waiting and waiting and waiting some moreHe’s banging and banging and banging on the doorHe’s waiting and waiting and waiting some moreHe’s banging and banging and banging on the door

The purgatory of his early yearsAre stained with hatred and reek of fearHe feels so far yet feels so nearOblivious that he’s already here

He’s waiting and waiting and waiting some moreHe’s banging and banging and banging on the doorHe’s waiting and waiting and waiting some moreHe’s banging and banging and banging on the door

Pure OblivionJosh Grube

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I spend my days floating on the boughs of the breeze, enveloped in the warmest of sunshine. Taking the grass in stride as it stains my skin, dirt taking residence beneath my nails. Living and breathing the earth around me. The forest is alive with a chorus of a million strong, pulsing like a great heart, permeating through out the diamond sky. The distant heavy lull of thunder is coming on, proof flooding the gates of my senses. My skin trembles but I persevere into the trees, each step an adventure, a thrill in itself. High from the weight of it all, soaking my skin, intoxicating with a warm waver of awareness. I’m rich in thought, wealthy in my own wondering world.

I traverse forth across the blanketed ocean of leaves and log, amidst the staggering giants sleeping all around. The fog thickens immensely, leading me blind in an abyss of white, here I stumble upon beauty uncensored.

I’m taken aback by the still pretense of the quiet, morning lake. A loon calls out, a scream muffed in the company of fog. The surface is a wild mirror awaiting a frame. I send a signal in a leafs graceful descent, awakening the portrait and reverberating the still with wakes of brilliant reflection; as if they were rolling hills of glass, residing before long but tarnished with time enough to tell a tale, of a life, a world, to ours aside. A place we’d all like to be.

A Good PlaceTom Atkins

I.R.O. botMorgan Bernier

I was born a perfect robot. Beneath the beauty was the wiring to be whatever was needed. I could make you happy.I became a flawed animal. Beneath the scars lie a harsh personality. Full of hate and rage.I destroy myself daily with chemicals to kill. I don’t know how to stop. I want to be real again. To let nature absorb me. To release my energy.I will become part of nature. My energy will allow another to live. That is how I will make a difference.For today, I will do my best.For today, I will give love.Maybe tomorrow I can see my worth

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TattooedStephanie Davenport

The wounds insideno bandage battered, bruised.tattooed.

Unvoiced words,were silenced;stifled, stuffed.tattooed.

My scared life, calloused overcovered, closed.tattooed.

Until you came,healed my shamereleased, redeemed,my life.

Ruminating over strangenessKelsey Sanford

I feel bizarre, feel weird, strange. An oddball amongst fat chickens and emaciated straw men. Little girls in pigtail braids tied with peach bows. Wicked fingers reach out to rip strands of silky hair from a border collie in heat while she moans. Crazy old women, octogenarians writing tiny pieces of wisdom, aphorisms, on large sheets of rusted iron that will be eternally misunderstood. Bunny wabbits weally want to be weally worried over cut up slices of tissue paper flesh. Garnet and grey all at the same time. I want to know why butterflies are dying like flies and the mosquito spiders are whipping around sucking the cold dead fluids out of their frail corpses. Splayed out like the old man in his oak wood coffin. Pallbearers wring their hands with joy over the prospect of making sick money. Wildflower ghosts whisper of tomorrow spring and a fox in a crimson gown scoffs at the idea of having to attend a ball with only one glass shoe.

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I have to start where it seemed to beginI need a new box because the one I’m inDidn’t turn out like what I expectedWrong decisions equal wrong things affected

The left side of the brain’s the rationalityThe right side of the brain creates actualityBut the right side objects its own beliefsTrying, trying, trying for illogical relief

Logic, logic, logic can’t get me though thisLogic, logic, logic won’t see what’s amiss As I lay and reminisceThe key subtlety exists Flying through space and timeI see the stars, I hear wind chimesA broken organ’s playing with no soundWhy do I keep coming around

Stop logical solving of every questionStop logical decoding of every suggestionThe encryption is hidden in plain viewSelf actualization that’s way overdue

Logic, logic, logic can’t get me though thisLogic, logic, logic won’t see what’s amiss As I lay and reminisceThe key subtlety exists

What’s with my thoughts of repositioningTrying to go against my conditioning I don’t need to escape this contraptionI don’t need to view this fraction by fraction

I stapled shut my headTo stop objections that I’ve saidI just nod my head insteadAnd swallow what I’ve been fed

Logic, logic, logic can’t get me though thisLogic, logic, logic won’t see what’s amiss As I lay and reminisceThe key subtlety exists

It’s time that I join backRewind to rejoin the packA new dimension in the same placeA new time in the same race

But what’s waiting at the finish lineWhy am I making this race mineWhere is all of this really goingSlowly dying, slowly growing

Logic, logic, logic can’t get me though thisLogic, logic, logic won’t see what’s amiss As I lay and reminisceThe key subtlety exists

Mise En AbymeJosh Grube

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Crash Course In AutismLaura DeAngelis

Since my son was 2 of ageIll at ease led to rageHe’s not speaking,And his thinking,Slow, disorderedDistant dreamingTo many doctors I do goTo find what makes my child so,Neurological dilemmaOf the ASD umbrellaResearch at the Pfeiffer CenterHopes to make our children betterOxidative damage foundIn peripheral tissues. Now,Evidence may prove the sameIn my child’s autistic brainIn Neurology archive:Altered vascular phenotypeEnhanced oxidative stressContribute to clinical manifestHannah Poling vaccinated,HHS investigatedAutistic profile resulting-Unique case:No revoltingASD associatedMitochondrial dysfunction relatedMarked reduced activityFound for complex I and III

Subtle brain morphology due toxicologyNo focal lesions noted here,But neuro disorder presence clearMicroscopic alterations, macroscopic demarcationsHigh-dose neurotoxicity: cytotoxic injuryLow-dose neurotoxicity: dysregulation of development… see?In addition, in so far, as white matter volume areIncrease may have come to be in the womb postnatallyUrinary levels of isoprostane2, 3 dinor-thromboxaneReflecting platelet activationBy 6-ketoprostaglandinPathogenic or genetic?Intervention too sporadic?Are his lipids out of range?All I know...….……………..my kid is strange.

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Poor Man’s VoiceRobert N. Woods

I’ve been torn from the very beginning, one half of me says I’m losing… The other half says that I’m winning…my head is spinning- With these thoughts of prosperity…but with empty pockets it seems quite unfair to me. Why is it that I think rich, but I’m broke….it’s not that funny….so no I don’t get the joke What’s the antidote? Is it simply education? My social affiliations? Political persuasion? Why am I living sub-standard in this prosperous nation? I’m not a mathematical major…but I can see the equation… It’s a mindset of poverty that I’m facing.I see wars on T.V., but if you want to witness a real battle, you should try to be me. The world views me as poor, due to my family history, they want to keep me blinded so that I can’t see…its not a mystery…I’m holding onto my dream like it was my last dollar, I’m wearing a tank top, so I’m not a blue or white collar. Just a person with a vision that can’t be broken, the window of opportunity is now wide open, my hope is actually hope instead of endlessly hoping, now my mind is racing…. It’s a mindset of poverty that I’m facing.Is it the governments fault? Or is it my own? If I think poor I stay poor, a borrower with nothing to loan. I need to remind myself to step above, over and beyond. My level of success won’t be created with a magical wand. It won’t be based on governmental assistance, but rather… Elbow grease, determination and unrelenting persistence… Now you can see…if I stay poor then I have made a choice…. Is anyone listening to a poor man’s voice?

System KillerKelsey Sanford

1. Carving out a hole Inside my veins, killing mine How immunity dies

2. In a frenzied mess Bat wings of a wicked strain Beat my heart to pulp

3. Camaradeie sits between zombified microbes and goodbye brain cells

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The wall between now and then,it is a crystal plane.Letting through the silence,that’s tapping like the rain.

Yet still beyond this border,there lies a further truth.Testaments of beauty,true substance and the youth.

The interim is brimming bright,boiling with the angst.The tears are pushing diamonds,your eyes sparkle at the flanks.

And in the glare I caught a glimpse,a sudden flash that stretched the sky.I saw the time a’ ticking,My life before my eyes.

Compacted sand, a flash!Tom Atkins

A Snowy, Sunday afternoon,A walk in the park and solitude. All is awash in white. All is still.One faint birdsong can be heard.A cardinal flashes through the woods.

A walk in the park and solitude.My mind begins to quiet. My heart slows.At a distance a conversation can be heard.Worries about tomorrow encroaching upon me.

A walk in the park and solitude. I exit the park for home. At peace.The snow below my feet turns to asphalt.Reality is looming, as traffic races by me.

Search for SolitudeStephanie Davenport

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Forced to Grow Briana Stodden

(For my sister and her children)You’re just a baby now, in a big ole world you’ll get by somehow.He had to go away to work out the pain, but you’re not to blame my child. Life will force you to grow, just when you think you know how it goes. But don’t think you’re alone; I’m here to help carry the load.

Sickness takes a life, just when you think they will be alright. You can’t help but feel robbed, but you never know what you have ‘til it’s lost. Life will force you to grow, just when you think you know how it goes. But don’t think you’re alone; I’m here to help carry the load.

Sometimes you’ll have plenty, then you turn around and you’ve ended up with fewSometimes you’re friends are many, but when they’re gone it’s to thyself be true. Life will force you to grow, just when you think you know how it goes. But don’t think you’re alone; I’m here to help carry the load.

Don’t be afraid to fail, for a man is measured by his willingness to prevail.They won’t always believe in you, but they can only make you feel as bad as you let them too. Life will force you to grow, just when you think you know how it goes. But don’t think you’re alone; I’m here to help carry the load.

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SnowVirgina Dickey

A softness covers the world,bleaching the colors and erasing

definition. Lights, however, have not been extinguished;but illuminated by the white.

Trees don their alabaster coats andicy crystals climb up portholes,

filigree patterns leave behindthe stamp of winter.

Sound is enveloped by the crisp, clear, cold.The air soaks up echoes; the clock tower, muffled,

whispers its chimes.Voices are lost, carried away,on flurries; blowing words into the

silent night.

Powder decorates bodies, such as a ballerina might adorn her face.

Tongues lash out to capture the sparkles.Spinning, falling frozen vapor

settle on hands andarctic tears melt from tender warmth.

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Come onGive me something newCome onI’m talking to you

I’ve reached that pointWhere I see that it allIs poisoned by Politics and protocol

Color me impressedBut please don’t color in the linesI’ve heard the homogeneous attemptsAnd I’m sick of the same simple signs

Come onWhat are you going to do?Come onAm I getting through to you?

I’m sick of the standardWay of the gameI’m tired of the trivialI don’t want same

Color me impressedBut please don’t color in the linesI’ve heard the homogeneous attemptsAnd I’m sick of the same simple signs

Come onIt’s time to inspireCome onIgnite the fire

I know that it’s easyTo follow the codeBut I need something moreReset and reload

Color me impressedBut please don’t color in the linesI’ve heard the homogeneous attemptsAnd I’m sick of the same simple signs

Coloring LessonJosh Grube

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Come onGive me something newCome onI’m talking to you

I’ve reached that pointWhere I see that it allIs poisoned by Politics and protocol

Color me impressedBut please don’t color in the linesI’ve heard the homogeneous attemptsAnd I’m sick of the same simple signs

Come onWhat are you going to do?Come onAm I getting through to you?

I’m sick of the standardWay of the gameI’m tired of the trivialI don’t want same

Color me impressedBut please don’t color in the linesI’ve heard the homogeneous attemptsAnd I’m sick of the same simple signs

Come onIt’s time to inspireCome onIgnite the fire

I know that it’s easyTo follow the codeBut I need something moreReset and reload

Color me impressedBut please don’t color in the linesI’ve heard the homogeneous attemptsAnd I’m sick of the same simple signs

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3D 3

Burke Stanion - 3D Package Brandon Burton - compositeIV

Drawing 4

Sophie McMahan - Dinner Party Sophie McMahan - Windy Day Melvin Martin - Bugs *Pledge Allegiance to the Swag* Sophie McMahan - Family Portrait

Graphic Design 6

Benji Frazzetto - Advertisement No.1 for the C- U Ballet

Photography 7

Yusak Desyanto - Harvard Bridge Skyler Crank - Chance of Love Rosalie Ierardi - Felis Catus Peter Zurich - Chicago, Illinois Briana Stodden - Reflected Heavens Jake Godin - Winter Parking Sean Hermann - Built to Spill Jake Godin - Hurtin’ Purty Rosalie Ierardi - University of Illinois Dairy Farm Sean Hermann - Cap’N Jazz (Continued on the next page)

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(photography continued)

Nicole Black - Forgotten Jake Godin - Overpasses & Rain Nicole Black - RENT Poetry/Literature 14 Kelsy Sanford - Based on a picture of a little.. Josh Grube - Pure Oblivion Tom Atkins - A Good Place Morgan Bernier - I.R.O bot Stephanie Davenport - Tattooed Kelsey Sanford - Ruminating over strangeness Josh Grube - Mise En Abyme Laura DeAngelis - Crash Course In Autism Kelsey Sanford - System Killer Robert N. Woods - Poor Man’s Voice

Tom Atkins - Compacted sand, a flash!

Stephanie Davenport - Search for Solitude

Briana Stodden - Forced to Grow

Virginia Dickey - Snow

Josh Grube - Coloring Lesson

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Prospectus News A student produced publication since 1969 @ the_prospectus facebook.com/ProspectusNews

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