DIVIDED / CONVERGED / the other side 2012
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s executive editors of the log, we saw the effects publications had on people. we saw the elation as the spine was cracked and the pages were viewed for the very first time. We saw the pride the page designers felt as they flipped through the books and saw their designs and ideas spring to life on the freshly printed pages. we saw the joy students felt as they opened the book and saw themselves; saw memories in the making. we could feel the hard work and love emanating from the publications room as designers and writers put their heart and soul into the publication. we wanted you to have those same feelings. at the end of the 2010-2011 school year, we were informed that the literary arts magazine, the other side, was no longer going to be offered in the course guide
as a north publication. as the only publication that allowed students to submit their own work, we knew this was a product that was too valuable to lose. we wanted to give you the chance to see your works of art come to life. so, here it is. the revamped 2011-2012 literary arts magazine. this is your artwork, your poems, your photography, your magazine. your art was different, it was unique, it was tailored to your interests. it was your art that divided you and set you apart from the rest. it was your art that converged and made the other side come together. we took what you gave us and made it into the final product. without your designs, your ideas and your inspirations, this would never have been possible.
COURTNEY CROMPTON / JACLYN GILL
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table of contents / Our featured artists
one • “silhouette” by jane baldwin two/three • letter from the editors / table of contents four/five • “forgotten” by ellen hacker six/seven • sarah whaley / meagan wolf eight/nine • chelsea mathis / jaclyn gill ten/eleven • madi slack / grace snider / ellen hacker twelve/thirteen • david sowerby / emma terry / hannah patton / sarah whaley fourteen/fifteen • “all of the lights” by hannah patton sixteen/seventeen • jane baldwin / erin ruffin / agne jonaityte eighteen/nineteen • featured photography artists twenty/twenty-one • agne jonaityte / ramya vijayagopal twenty-two/twenty-three • emma terry / michelle morales / hannah patton twenty-four/twenty-five • david sowerby twenty-six/twenty-seven • adam grimes / chelsea mathis / lucie cyliax
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ARTIST PROFILE
ellen hacker “across the street from my grandma’s house i wanted to get some creative pictures. photography helps me express the artist i want to be because it is not as typical as drawing or painting is.”
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THE CRUMBLING GATE by sarah whaley I think I once believed in love And making wish on star above And every time I see your face I contemplate a second grace But hold myself in iron chains If only to escape the pain A passion wild and untamed For everything without a name But really, who am I to blame? I'm scared of love, but cannot hate For centuries I may here wait At my abandoned, crumbling gate
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left • the old lady middle • a quiet reflection right • graceful disaster
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ARTIST PROFILE
meagan wolf “i feel at ease when i’m drawing or painting. i sometimes even get a rush from it. it’s a way that i can express my feelings and get creative.”
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“photography is my life. it takes me on adventures and introduces me to a varety of new people and places. this hobby has really opened my eyes to columbus and what the world is like around me through a camera lens. it is the ultimate get away from stress in my day.”
ARTIST PROFILE
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left • outsde closed doors middle • standing tall right • city nights
chelsea mathis
Home by jaclyn gill Home. It was where we grew up. It was where we spent our days skipping on the sidewalk and jumping out of swings. It was where we learned to ride a bike without training wheels. It was where we learned to cheer for our favorite team. It was where we experienced our first love, and our first heartache. Home. Even as we moved on in our lives, the memories we made and the footsteps we left always remained.
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our featured artists top left • madi slack bottom left • grace snider right • ellen hacker
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ANONYMOUS I am shattered. My eyes search for sunlight but you are the cloth blinding me. I struggle for freedom but you are the shackles that pull me back. I try to swim but you insist on drowning me. I cannot escape. My tears fall like brilliant glass, bitter and vivid. My lips move to protest but there is nothing I can say. I have nowhere to turn and no one to save me. I am broken. Those sharp words So carelessly thrown. Don't even look back To see how much I'm bleeding, I'm dying. You may forgive and forget but I have not that privilege Because I remember every word. As the peaceful moon sweeps over the starry sky I lie awake, the memories tattooed in my eyelids. The nightmare that is real life won't allow me to escape to the paradise of my dreams.
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ARTIST PROFILE
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“i started taking pictures with my disposable camera my mom would buy me to keep me occupied while grocery shopping with her. i’d take pictures of people we’d pass and of food we’d put in our carts. i’ve been documenting the things i enjoy since then.”
emma terry
hannah patton
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What is love? by sarah whaley What is love? It is always there, but never seen. Reveals its mark, although The touch is softer than the Brush of a feather. Carries us on it’s wings, But not above the ground. Saves all things, But creates the deepest wound When taken. Says all things, Yet never makes a sound. Is the greatest And yet the most terrifying Of all emotions.
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ARTIST PROFILE
hannah patton “art is my passion. when i’m working on something i completely dive into it. i’m always looking for new ways to make my art unique. one day i want to be an artist. i have always loved art and appreciate it more as a get older.”
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our featured artists
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top left • agne jonaityte bottom left • hannah patton middle • erin ruffin right • agne jonaityte
top left • looking back bottom left • mr. fancy pants middle • garrett hedlund right • extrapolation
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Loudus by ben miller Watching the last golden sun make its last stand. Morpheus said it was called a jungle Safaria, and I was told that at the end waited mans greatest bounty. Loudas, our guide, led the Tyndrarid Pair, but only to betray us for what he called the greater good. Now I feel my mouth coughing up red wine. I see Loudas shoot Castor, who is Now cold and has gone back to the dust By my simple sanguinary greed. Morpheus plays again to show a pure white laurel on the mountain bank that found me, but I have denied her once, twice, Thrice. Black now from grieving, she withers and fades to earth’s dust. And Loudus had killed what should have been his greatest agape. Now I cannot take back the Laurel to save her broke heart. I cannot save Castor my last friend. I realize now that Loudus is me, Loudus is dead.
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our featured artists
top left • sergio armendariz bottom left • robert booth middle • david sowerby top right • sergio armendariz middle right • lauren backmeyer bottom right • ashley bruner
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“for me, it’s not so much about expression as much as it is a great way to relax. having an art class 8th period relieves stress like nothing else. through art, i’ve learned how to appreciate the beauty in a clear blue sky even when my head is full of assignments and projects i have to do.”
ARTIST PROFILE
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agne joaintyte
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Rain by ramya vijayagopal Clear and cool Drops peppering the roof with a metallic ping A symbol of hope of a new beginning of a better tomorrow. Refreshing and sweet The drops tumble from ashy clouds that wisp outward in the lighter gray sky. Lightning flashes and arcs across the sky graceful as a dancer performing a perfect pirouette. The thunder follows shortly crashing out a beat like a hand on a drum or the tide on the rocks.
bottom left • flower child middle • the wise man top right • droplets bottom right • despair
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top left • michelle morales bottom left • hannah patton right • michelle morales
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Go by emma terry Go, he said, Until the stone gives way to the high place All the fire and air and stone Until arms reach up to the glory that Cracks, creates, mystifies, renews Go, he said, Til tongues shudder at the very presenceAnd all is calmed and hushed and stilled For the coming is near and The test is at way Go, he said, Do not stop until the end is within sight For it is there you will find meIndeed you’ll meet me. Go.
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“Art is one of my favorite things in the world. it expresses all the emotions i can’t put into words and brings beauty we see in the world to the forefront of our vision. being an artist is a huge part of who i am and how i enjoy myself.”
ARTIST PROFILE
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david sowerby
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Evanescence by david sowerby Nature. Born in spring. Dead in fall. The evanescent cycle; The ebbs and flows of time. All is born of the Earth, and we all Return when is our time. Each of us is part of each next generation.
left • corvidae right • blue jambii
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“The beauty of art is that you can picture something in your mind and then make it a reality.”
ARTIST PROFILE
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lucie cyliax
left • lucie cyliax right • chelsea mathis
rabbits are nice to know by adam grimes [Act I, scene I.] Two young men, by the names of Vieux and Nouveau, live in a somewhat quiet suburb of New York City. Nouveau contacts Vieux in hopes to speak with him soon about a recent experience he just had. The play opens with them opening the door to the café. Vieux: Mhhm, so now that we’re here will you tell me about whatever it is that you had to summon me here for.
good distance past it, it bounced up behind me closer. It did this maybe three more times until eventually I had to cross the street. What do you think of that? Vieux: Dude shut up, you’ve never talked like this in your life. Joking, dude? Nouveau: No actually I see the world clearer now. [Speaking in a choppy fashion] It was a mind-altering experience, like a drug or something, except the reverse, because instead of feeling doped up, I’m sobered up. Essentially, I can create anything I want, when I want, out of anything I want.
Nouveau: Just a second, let’s get a drink first. Vieux: Yes, I’ll have a cappuccino with a bit of sweetener, please. Nouveau: A black coffee for me will be all. Vieux receives his drink first and picks a spot in the corner facing away from the rest of the café. Nouveau with his coffee sits opposite Vieux facing the café. The café has a brown wood floor, olive colored walls, and vibrant red painted tables and chairs. Nouveau: I saw a rabbit a few feet in front of me on the right while walking today. When I proceeded to walk ahead it did not move but kept its head terrifyingly still, and once I was a
At this moment a waitress who was bringing a large amount of food and a couple coffees to a table just across the café tripped and sent all of the contents of her tray into the air. Yet this was no problem. The waitress manipulated herself under the food and coffee and retrieved them back on her tray just as they belonged. Vieux: You just see that? If you had told me some story about how you caught a bunch of food that you spilt by cartwheeling underneath it and catching it, I’d probably believe you more. Nouveau: [To the waitress] Excuse me, ma’am? Did you see a rabbit too? Waitress: Yeah.
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columbus north high school / volume 4 / 2012 / columbus, indiana