The Eyrie A Literary/Trades Journal
‘21
Eastern Maine Community College
The Eyrie ‘21 A Literary/Trades Journal The Eyrie is a literary/arts trade journal published by Eastern Maine Community College to showcase student work. The issue highlights exceptional writers and craftsmen from across the campus.
Faculty Advisors Heather Magee, Dr. Lesley Gillis Cover Photo & Design Meredith Atkinson Page Design Michaela Qualey Page Layout/Design Meredith Atkinson Angela Patterson James Cogswell Michaela Qualey Destinee Duprey Skylar Shackley Trung (John) Ho Andrew Sikes Jenny Jordan Ann Stanley Connor McDevitt Cassaundra Thompson Amaryah McRobbie Seth Welch DGD231 Printing and Publishing
©All work in this journal remain the sole property of their owner and may not be reprinted without permission
Table of Contents CREATIVE NONFICTION Ghosts of The Prairie, John Squires..................... 7 CREATIVE WRITING Poem About a Time When Something Took My Breath Away, Anna Heneise............................... 19 ABC’s of My Childhood, Laura Lindsay.............. 21 Killer, Sherralyn Robbins.................................... 27 Silent Listener, Lydia Short................................. 28 Poem, Lydia Short.............................................. 30 INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE Galaxies and Mud Puddles, Amy Goodson........ 33 WILDERNESS ETHICS Final Case Study Overcrowding, Tinia Graham. 41 2D DESIGN Band Poster, Jonathan Ho................................. 49 Blue Blazer Logo, Jonathan Ho.......................... 50 Blue Blazer Business Card. Jonathan Ho.......... 51 Blue Blazer Sign, Peter Mouland....................... 52 Music Poster Daft Punk, Ann M Stanley............. 53 Blue Blazer Branding, Michaela Qualey........ 54-55 COMMERCIAL PHOTOGRAPHY Sunrise, Alycia Hall............................................. 57 Step by Step, Connor McDevitt.......................... 58 Ben Model 1 & 2, Amaryah McRobbie............... 59 Apple Spice, Michaela Qualey........................... 60 DIGITAL ILLUSTRATION A Mouse Study, Meredith Atkinson..................... 63 FINE ART PHOTOGRAPHY The Canoe, Angela Patterson............................ 65 Stair Railing, Angela Patterson........................... 66 The Waterfall, Angela Patterson......................... 67
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Table of Contents
GRAPHIC WEB DESIGN Slice of Life Arts & Crafts Website Mockup, Andrew Sikes..69 Clara’s Fragrance Emporium Skyscraper banner, Seth Welch........................................................... 70 INTRODUCTION TO DIGITAL PHOTOGRAPHY Hibiscus, Skylar Shackley................................................. 73 A Quiet Place, Cassie Thompson...................................... 74 Sky on Fire, Cassie Thompson......................................... 75 Eye to Eye, Cassie Thompson.......................................... 76 Breaking theFourth Wall, Ann Stanley............................... 77 INTRODUCTION TO PHOTOSHOP Pathy Portrait, Meredith Atkinson...................................... 59 American Dogthic, Meredith Atkinson............................... 60 Project 03, Caroline Decker.............................................. 61 Postcard, Jonathan Ho (Trung)......................................... 62 Florida Postcard, Melinda Manzo...................................... 63 Thomas Shelby, Michaela Qualey..................................... 64 Yuki Kajiura Musician of Dot Hack Sign, Ann Stanley....... 65 MARKETING COMMUNICATIONS Logos, Connor McDevitt.................................................... 67 PAGE LAYOUT AND DESIGN BMW Ad Card, Seth Welch............................................... 69 TIME BASED MEDIA Scene 1 Torrie and Yatto, James Cogswell...................... 71 TYPOGRAPHY Form Alteration, James Cogswell...................................... 75 The Nanny, Destinee Duprey............................................ 76 Positive V. Negative, Jenny Jordan .................................. 77 Illustrative Word Meaning 1 & 2, Jenny Jordon................. 78 Font Typography Sikes, Andrew Sikes.............................. 79 Bone Slash Font, Seth A. Welch....................................... 80
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Creative Non-Fiction 6
Ghosts of The Prairie John Squires
I’ve always found it strange that, as humans, we have seemingly no control over the memories that attach to us forever. Like mischievous ghosts, sights and sounds can bind to us without warning; and in spite of our obsession with holding on to memories of our choosing, even the most unremarkable moments can pass by and etch into our memory forever. It is of no surprise, of course, that a particularly unremarkable moment, in a particularly unremarkable place, wandered into my mind – finding itself a permanent home. I was waiting in the checkout line of a Dollar General in Borger, Texas when this very memory crossed my path. “Ron? What are you doing here,” an old man, looking to be about seventy-five or so, approaches an even older looking man. “I thought they buried you.” “Yep,” Ron says with a weakened sigh. “Every morning, I read the obituary pages to see if I’m there, but I ain’t seen my name yet.” The two old friends exchange a few additional light-hearted, but morose jabs at each other. They talk about Thanksgiving, they talk about the cold weather, they casually lament over their dead wives. At the time, I thought little of their conversation, but it stuck with me forever. During my stay in the strange town of Borger, I would find that things had a tendency to do just that. The town of Borger, Texas rests in the Northern section of the Texas Panhandle. For centuries, this vast expanse of grasslands lay totally undisturbed, save for the strong winds that travel for hundreds of miles on end without being disturbed by the occasional rock, or tree. In 1921, 7
oil was discovered in the desolate prairie. Five years later, hundreds of acres of land in the area would be purchased by businessman, Ace Borger, along with his partner John Miller – who would later become Borger’s first mayor. Within only a few months, the allure of the prospects of Black Gold attracted about 45,000 people to Borger. Now a Boomtown, the newborn city quickly established a post office, a school district, steam-generated electricity, and a hospital. Ninety-eight years pass by in Borger, and I sit on the porch of a double-wide trailer with my two friends and co-workers, Owen and Tony. A layer of fresh snow (Borger is, in fact, the snowiest town in Texas) blankets the trailer park around us, adding a ghostly ambiance to an island of dilapidated trailers that rests in a seemingly endless ocean of grass. We are all smoking cigarettes, a habit that we picked up out of boredom during our stay here. Owen, wrapped in a heavy blanket to protect himself from the unending icy winds, puts down his cigarette to ignite a small glass pipe of marijuana. “A little discretion, now,” I tap some ember and ash off the tip of my cigarette and watch it fall through the worm-eaten boards of the wooden porch. “You know how it is here. They’ll saw your hands off if they catch you with grass.” “Or worse,” Tony grunts as he takes a sip from a coffee mug filled with whiskey and water. “You’re right,” Owen passes me the pipe, then exhales a puff of pungent smoke. “Gotta watch out for the federales.” This need for stealth and secrecy is merely a game, one of many that we’ve made up to hold on to our sanity. The drug of choice in this town is crystal meth; and judging by the scarcity of police cruisers, or even the sounds of a faint siren, there doesn’t seem to be much law enforcement going on here. Like most of the denizens of this once-bustling town, we 8
are not here of our own choosing. We are volunteers of a federal conservation corps that specializes in trailwork in various natural areas; national parks, wildlife preserves, the like. The function of our branch was simple. Entities such as the National Park Service would contract out trail construction or maintenance to our conservation corps; and once assignments were finalized, a group of corps members would head out to the project to complete the work. My time in AmeriCorps gave me the opportunity to work on the scenic trails of Tonto National Forest, Rocky Mountain National Park, the Grand Canyon, and Petrified Forest National Park. For this assignment, we found ourselves in a trailer park in the middle of the Texas Panhandle. These assignments, which we called “hitches”, lasted for eight days at a time. During these hitches, we would camp out overnight in the area we were working in, while performing our contracted trailwork during the day. Upon completion of the hitch, we would pack up camp and head back to our housing to enjoy six days off. This fourteenday cycle served as the structure for all of our projects, a schedule that I loved. Eight days in some of the most picturesque locations in the United States, followed by six days of relaxation (mostly debauchery and partying) with the rest of my fellow corps members in the city where our group housing was. The Texas Project was different. The contract between our corps and the National Park Service to perform new trail construction around Lake Meredith National Recreation Area, was a contract of three hitch cycles – meaning, three eight-day working periods. Because the Texas Panhandle was about a two-day road trip from where our headquarters and housing was located, the administration of our conservation corps decided it would be prudent to house us there for the duration of the project, rather than heading back to housing after each eight-day cycle. This meant that instead of returning for six days off after eight days of work, as usual, we were required to enjoy 9
all of our off days in Borger, Texas. Overall, we were here for about two months. Something we thought of as a prison sentence more than a work assignment. It did not take long for myself and my coworkers to realize that our off days were the most wearisome portion of our sentence. Our initial explorations of the tiny prairie town revealed that the only two locations of interest were a Dollar General, and a Dairy Queen that served chicken-fried steak fingers and allowed patrons to smoke cigarettes indoors – something that we saw as a true Texas experience. Lake Meredith, where we were digging new hiking trail, might have been a fine place for the upper-middle class of Dallas and Amarillo to drive their jet skis to on Labor Day; but here, in the middle of winter, it had no interest to us. While a nicotinefueled Dairy Queen adventure was truly a fine way to eat up a few hours of our first day off, that still left us with over five days to kill in the middle of this trailer park town. Boredom and ennui set in rapidly and sharply, like rigor mortis. While the challenges that came with the monotony of so much time off in a desolate place such as Borger were significant, the conditions of our eight-day work periods were punishing in their own right, and I would be remiss if I didn’t describe them as such. The mornings were always bitter cold; and given that our work at Lake Meredith was essentially taking place in a crater, the sunlight wouldn’t hit us until about three or four hours into our workday. The merciless chill from the strong prairie winds was the “icing on the cake of bullshit” - as my coworker, Kevin, put it. With trees and rocks being a rare sight in the prairie, the wind travels uninterrupted for hundreds of miles at a time. Aside from the weather seemingly never being in our favor, the work itself was backbreaking. The entirety of the project was new trail construction; and to put it simply, the only way to construct new trail is to spend hours carving it out of the side of a hill with heavy picks and rock bars. The hard, chilled clay of the hillside was speckled with large rocks; and I can’t 10
remember one day where I wasn’t aching over my entire body. “Hear me out,” I interrupt the cold silence of our lunch break. It is day seven of the first hitch cycle. “What if, instead of having to spend so many days off here, we just work twentyfour days in a row, and then go home?” My comment, which wasn’t made completely in jest, was met with a few laughs from the rest of my coworkers. Our crew leader, Brad, who made the cheerful acceptance of our fate here his mission, told me to try and make the best of it – something I, along with the rest of my coworkers, had absolutely no intention of doing. After a few months of being the most promising and flourishing boomtown in Texas, Borger predictably became a hideout for all types of outlaws who operated on the fringe of society. Benefitting from its ample distance from the larger cities in Texas, Borger became an asylum for speak-easies, gambling dens, brothels, and any other criminal enterprise that planted its roots in the hard, prairie soil. Murder and robbery was a daily occurrence, and Borger quickly gained a reputation throughout Texas as a home for ne’er-do-wells. It is said that, during this time, it was commonly known throughout Texas as Booger Town. The criminal activity in Borger existed in symbiosis with the town’s administrative body. John Miller, the first mayor of Borger, established a close partnership with the leader of Borger’s crime syndicate, an outlaw known as “Two-Gun Dick” Herwig – a name which is so comically-villainous, that I had to do extra research just to make sure this was an actual man, and not the antagonist in an old Rocky & Bullwinkle special. The town government soon fell under complete control of its criminal activity, while netting profits for everyone at the top. Borger became so notorious as a den of crime, that the Texas Rangers were dispatched to “rein in” the town, but even their efforts proved to be futile. 11
“Oh shit,” Owen says with a tone of disbelief. It is the third day of our second set of off days, and we are walking around our new neighborhood, a sea of trailers, just to kill time. “Is that a puppy?” At first, I thought the rustling in the unkempt grass next to us appeared to be just the wind, but in Owen’s glance, he was able to spot the tiny, grey figure of a Pitbull puppy. It looked to be about nine or ten weeks old. “The hell is wrong with these people,” I looked around for anyone who might belong to the dog, but no one else was around. “It’s already below freezing, and the sun hasn’t even gone down. Poor thing will freeze to death!” “I know,” Owen picks up the tiny, grey puppy and rubs it between his hands, attempting to warm it up. “It was probably abandoned. Pieces of shit probably chose buying meth over having to buy dog food.” “Come on,” I looked around again for any sign of the pup’s original owner, but found none. “Let’s take him home.” Owen and I returned to the other trailer where the rest of our crew – Brad and three more of our coworkers - were housed. We presented our new friend like a fabulous diamond found in the rough around us; and after only a few minutes in our temporary home, the friendly innocence of the puppy seems to make everyone forget about the desolation around us. For just a few moments, the hardships of our time here in Borger seem to disappear. Perhaps it was the puppy and its power to remain playful and friendly, in spite of being surrounded by so much bleakness, that gave us some kind of respite from our own depression. I watch the puppy run from person to person, spinning itself around in circles in its own jubilation. The orange glow of the ceiling light reflecting off the fauxwood paneling of the trailer, the smiles on my coworkers’ tired faces, the laughter we shared in this cold and quiet place – without warning, another ghost of Borger, Texas 12
attaches itself to my memory forever. “I’m not really sure what we can do,” Brad says after watching us play with the puppy for a few minutes. “There isn’t an animal hospital or a shelter or anything in this town, and we legally can’t keep a pet here because of the liability.” “So, what’s your suggestion?” I take up a harsh tone with Brad, something that was becoming increasingly easier to do as more days of his forced positivity went by. “We let the thing loose and let it freeze?” “Not at all, Squires,” Brad picks up the puppy, nuzzles it with his nose, and hands it to me. “You and Owen are going to go out and knock on doors until you find who this dog belongs to.” So, we did. Owen and I, puppy in arms, traversed the sea of trailer parks in search of a lost puppy’s original owner. Most of the doors we knocked on responded with no answer, meaning that people were either wary to talk to us, or the trailers were simply abandoned – given the dilapidated condition of most of the trailers, I suspected the latter. After about two hours of walking around in the chilly, windy night, we finally came across a trailer which answered our call. “What do you want? It’s like fuckin’ ten o’clock,” A lanky, scarecrow of a man in a stained white tank top addresses Owen and me. His eyes are sunken and yellowed, and his facial hair grows in patchy lines across his face as if drawn on by a worn stick of charcoal. “Well, we were just trying to see if we could find – ,” Owen is quickly cut off by the man. “Oh, shit! Where’d you guys find Smokey?” Owen and I looked at each other, the same thought in the back of our heads – that we had rescued something from the hands of certain death, only to return it back to the jaws of 13
its captor. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as Gandalf would famously remark. I wanted nothing more than to tell the scarecrow man off, but what could we do? This was Borger. No help would be offered for us, or the puppy. Much like the days of its founding, it was a complete free-for-all. “Smokey was laying in the grass,” I respond to the scarecrow man. “He seemed to be having a good time, aside from the fact that he was entering the initial stages of hypothermia.” “Right, right,” the scarecrow man responds as if he has heard sounds coming from my mouth, and indeed understands that I have spoken, but has failed to comprehend any idea or notion from my words. “Well, y’all have a good night.” The man stares at Owen and I expectantly, waiting for us to hand Smokey back to him. Owen and I look at each other, as if communicating by thought. We can’t possibly give this poor thing back to this cretin, can we? After giving us even a few moments of happiness, how can we just throw it back in darkness? Surely, there is something we can do. But, in that moment, nothing heroic came over us; and perhaps, heroism is something that hasn’t existed in these lands for quite some time. The scarecrow man grabs Smokey from Owen’s hands, and shuts the door in our faces. Owen and I look at each other with an expression that transcended disbelief, but rested on complacency; an expression that failed to understand the nature of everything around us, but accepted the conditions for what they were. Desolation. The lawless glory days of Borger, if you would call them that, began to decline rapidly in the 1930s. In a sheer stroke of 14
misfortune, something I can only classify as “Borgeresque”, the oil wells of Borger began to dry up just as the fortunes of the nation began to dry up with the onset of the Great Depression. As opportunity fled the town, so did any remaining honest folk, and the unruliness and mayhem that plagued the once-flourishing boomtown reached new heights. In a culminating episode of the town’s fate, the proverbial chickens had finally come home to roost for the man who established the town. On August 31, 1934, Ace Borger walked into the town’s post office to check his mail. He was met there by Arthur Huey, the county treasurer. Arthur had a dispute with Ace relating to Ace neglecting to bail Arthur out of jail when he was convicted on embezzlement charges. Strangely enough, this quarrel wasn’t completely unfounded, given that Ace Borger had a lengthy history of letting other town officials slide on their skirting of the law. It can be said, simply enough, that Ace just didn’t like Arthur that much. After a quick shouting match, Arthur brandished a Colt .45 pistol and shot Ace Borger five times. When Ace fell to the ground, Arthur pulled Ace’s own gun out of his jacket, and shot him five more times. In the years that followed, the population of Borger began to dwindle as those who had been attracted by the prosperity of black gold had to find new prospects. For those who remained, desolation was all they would face. The ruthlessness of the Dust Bowl era hit Borger hard; and the remaining carbon black plants added soot to the alreadyharsh dust storms, coating the town in layers of dark grime and dust. All in all, the town would never fully recover. The Boomtown that had once reached a bustling population of 45,000 began to decrease over the decades. Eighty-four years pass by since Ace Borger’s violent end. The population of the town of Borger is now about 8,000. Owen, Tony, and I sit on the porch of our trailer and smoke 15
cigarettes and weed. We leave Borger in two days; and to our disbelief, our sentence in Borger is coming to an end, even when we felt as though we would be trapped here forever. Our mood is light, and we talk about all of the things we’re going to do when we get back to housing. Seeing all of our friends who have been on different projects, going back to all of our favorite bars, and hiking all of our favorite trails in the mountains that surround the town. “Goddamn,” Tony lights a new cigarette. “I can’t wait to get back to Northern-fucking-Arizona. I can’t wait.” “Yeah,” I nod, and let out a weak laugh. “This place has gotten to me. It’s gotten to all of us, hasn’t it?” We all nod silently. “You know what the funny thing is?” Owen laughs to himself. “What’s that?” Tony asks him. “After all of our hard work digging a hiking trail around the lake, I don’t think we did one good thing for this town,” Owen shakes his head and takes a puff from his cigarette. “What the hell is a hiking trail supposed to do for all of these people?” Owen waves his hands around, signaling the trailer park around us, and the desolation that plagued it like the storms of black grime that covered the grass during the Dust Bowl. “You know,” I laugh. “I truly hope, one day, they fill in that crater with concrete and cover up that trail we worked so hard to dig.” “Why’s that,” Owen responds. We are all laughing together now. “Because then they could build a Six Flags on top of it,” I reply. “That would make Borger great again!” 16
I stare off into the distance, at nothing in particular, because there is nothing in particular to stare at in Borger, Texas. Yeah, I think to myself, a Six Flags. Wouldn’t that be nice? When I think back on what it was like to spend time in a place like Borger, I can’t help but relate it to a haunted house. A place where, as soon as you enter, you feel the weight of the ghosts that inhabit it. Like a haunted house, the spell is only effective if you stay there, save for whatever you bring with you. At least, that’s how it felt for us, as soon as we packed our things and began the long drive home, it began to feel as though we were never in Borger in the first place. Leaving that town was like waking up from a dream you can barely remember. A couple years have passed now since I served my sentence in Borger, Texas; and while I am happy to spend my days anywhere else, sometimes I can’t help but feel that I left a ghost behind. Another ghost of Borger, to commiserate for eternity with the ghosts of dreams of fortune, the ghosts of new beginnings, the ghost of Ace Borger, the ghosts of the scarecrow man, the ghost of Smokey – born into a world that cared nothing for him. As I reminisce on what it was like to spend time in such a place, I have always struggled to find any sort of resolution or lasting lesson to come out of it; and maybe that’s entirely the point, that you can’t find any sort of catharsis in a haunted place. In some places, maybe all there is to comprehend are the ghosts of the past that rush over you like a chilly, prairie wind.
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Creative Writing 18
Poem About a Time When Something Took My Breath Away Anna Heneise
Sticks and stones may break my bones But words will twist and crush me.
Voice of thunder, words of thorn Branches, boulders, sticks and stones Bypassing my iron bones Took my heart into their grip Squeezed till lifeblood Gushed and dripped.
Stick and stones may break my bones But words will bind and choke me.
Voice of thunder, words of thorn Branches, boulders, sticks and stones Chased me as I ran from home Settled down inside my lungs Stretched and grew and stuffed 19
Bound my breath and tongue.
Sticks and stones may break my bones But words will surely kill me.
There is no room inside my heart Inside my lungs Inside me
To hold your thorns, scorn, and myself For you cannot abide me.
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ABC’s of My Childhood Laura Lindsay
Albert This is the name of my dad. He is also the fourth generation. I find this to be so cool that his name has been carried on for this many generations. He has lived in many places because his parents were in the Air Force. He even lived overseas when he was younger. He lives in Florida now and has for over 40 years. Brother My brother is seven years younger than I am. I remember being in 1st grade when I was picked up by my grandparents because he was born. His name is also Albert, which makes him the fifth generation. Colleen This is my mom’s name. She was born in New York and moved to Maine, which is where she lived and graduated from high school. She moved to Florida shortly after high school and lived with her aunt. She groomed dogs with her aunt for a few years before going on to other work. Dogs I had 3 dogs when I lived in Florida. A bigger dog and two smaller dogs. I don’t remember what kind of dogs they were though. After living in Maine for around a year I had another dog. She was a sheltie mix and she was the best. Evergreen This was the name of one of the roads I lived on when I moved to Maine. It was a dirt road and a quiet wooded area. It was close to my aunt’s house, which I spent a lot of time at. This also was very different from my house in Florida, 21
which was in a busy neighborhood on a paved street with houses all around. Fair I would go to the fair every year with my mom, siblings, and family. There would always be a big group of us that would go together. It was a tradition for us to go when the fair came to town. We always made our way to the animals first, which we all enjoyed going to see. I also liked getting the fries and fresh lemonade. I liked to play the carnival games that were there and visit the little shop areas. I always enjoyed seeing the different things that were for sale. I didn’t do the rides, but some of my family would. Grandparents My grandparents in Florida (my dad’s parents) I would see them every week, sometimes more than once. I went to church with them, spent nights over there all the time, and just spent time with them. We would go for walks together around the block and sing songs in the car together. My grandparents in Maine (my mom’s parents) I used to go and visit every Sunday for the day. All of my cousins, aunts and uncles would be there. We would have lunch together and just visit and spend time together. Sometimes playing games, sitting outside, or watching movies. It was always something I looked forward to doing and enjoyed spending time with my grandparents and family. Hurricane I was actually born when a hurricane was going on, which I think is neat. I believe it was a category 3 hurricane. My parents would joke that I just couldn’t wait. Ice Storm of 98 The ice storm is something that I remember strictly from stories, pictures, and people telling me about it. We moved 22
to Maine the summer of 1999, so it was right after the ice storm happened. I remember it being talked about a lot and something that was often referenced. Even though I wasn’t living in Maine yet, this is still something that is a part of my childhood. Jars I remember canning in mason jars to make dilly beans and also pickles. We used the vegetables from my aunt’s farm. It was always a fun experience and something I looked forward to doing every year. There would always be a bunch of the family getting together to do this and making a day of it. We would have so many jars by the end of it. Each family would get to take some home with them. It was something that you hoped you had enough to last until the next year, when it was time for canning again. Kickball When my siblings and I would be at my grandparents’ house, we had friends across the street that we would play with all the time. We often would play kickball in the street and it was something we would do all day and into the evening. I still remember playing in the dark under the street lights. We always had so much fun. Library There was a library up the road from where I lived when I was living in Florida. I would often ride my bike there. I loved going to the library. They would have story time and a kid section that I thought was so cool. I have a scar on my knee from when I tried to ride my bike up over a curb and fell. Middle School I went to three different middle schools. I started 6th grade in Florida. I remember thinking that school was so big and scary. I then went to 7th grade in Maine and once again
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was so scared because I knew no one and was the new kid. Then my 8th grade year I went to another new school where I didn’t know anyone again. NeeNee This was the name of our babysitter when we were little. We would go to her house and play with her dog and watch Nick Jr. I remember she always made the best tuna fish sandwiches. She was like a grandmother to us and watched us for many years. Opal This was the name of a hurricane I remember having to leave for. We ended up making it a little vacation and going to Ripley’s Believe It or Not. I remember coming back after the hurricane was done and a big tree in our yard had fallen over. Parade I loved going to parades when I was little. Any kind of parade. They would always be so much fun and exciting. A few that stick out to me are the 4th of July parades and also the Christmas parades. This was when I lived in Florida so it was very hot during the 4th of July parade and not really cold at all during the Christmas parade. Q*bert This was a computer game that I used to play on my grandfather’s computer, in his computer room. I always loved going in there to play on his computer. It was always such a treat and special. All of us grandkids would always want to go in there and play on Grandpa’s computer. There were a handful of games that we liked to play. He was also a big gamer so he always had the cool games. 24
Roller Skates I loved to roller skate up and down my road when I was younger. I even had roller blades once I got better with roller skates. I also would go to the roller rink and always enjoyed being there. I remember skating around for hours and liking when the hokey pokey song came on and people would dance to it in the middle of the rink. Sister My sister is two years younger than I am. We did everything together when we were little. She moved back to Florida after high school and lived there for a few years. She now lives back in Maine and doesn’t live far from me. Trips When we would take trips up to Maine, we always drove. It would take us three days, but it was something that I liked to do. It was always a lot of fun seeing all the different places and scenery. Also being able to stay in a hotel and swim in the pool. Under the Oaks This was the name of a wooden playground that was outside. It was such an awesome playground. It was also close to my grandparents house, so we would go there often. It was all made out of wood and was something you were able to climb on, walk on, hide under, and slide. It was so cool! We also had birthday parties there, picnics, and walked the trail that was around the whole place. Visit Some of my family from Maine would come visit us in Florida and stay with us. I remember my cousins and aunts and uncles coming. It was always a lot of fun and special. We enjoyed having them there and being able to show them 25
around different places and do new things with them. Water Park I loved visiting the water park when I was a kid. We would always go with my cousins and grandparents. We would spend the day there. It was always so much fun. I loved to play in the water and ride some of the rides. The lazy river was one of my favorites because my siblings and I would swim around while some of my family would float. Xray When I was young I had to have an x-ray done on my back to check and see how bad my scoliosis was. I had never had one done before and I remember being worried about what was going to happen. It of course ended up not being bad at all and not taking long. Yarn My aunt taught me how to crochet and knit. I really enjoyed her teaching me how to do this. It was also nice to spend time with her doing something together. It was fun to try and make things. My grandmother also used to crochet and knit all kinds of different things. I remember always being so amazed at the animals she would make or baby booties and clothes she would make. Zoo There was a zoo we would go to and I always enjoyed going and seeing the different animals. There was a petting zoo area where we could pet the goats and feed the giraffes. I loved to see the giraffes up close. They are such beautiful animals. I also found the tigers, monkeys, and alligators to be really cool to see.
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Killer
Sherralyn Robbins Female escorts delicately swaying to the fireman’s music Inspecting celery at the neighborhood grocery store. Waves crashing against the rocks. Looking over the shoulder, heavy breathing. Shoveling the snow in front of the one-car garage. Body submerged happy shadows. Taking a lukewarm bubble bath while listening to jazz music. Looking into the mirror screaming plausible deniability. Shame to cheap thrills, cost of living an internal sacrifice. River’s shrills, rapids. Tip-toeing to the pantry, crushing a box of crackers. Nightly escapades, Scrabble games, human bowling. Shaking in an old man’s embrace. Shoreline thoughts, skipping rocks. Days spent in bed, nights meticulously spent in the water. The perfect alibi, an expansive vocabulary. Resume, resume, resume. The ballad of canoes and kayaks. Drinking tea-little finger raised. Getting lost in numbers, in education. Religious ceremonies, ironic monologues, testimonies. Two cherries on top, throw one at the cop, and run the other way. Malicious desire, self-preservation, bloody hands, and a bloody heart. The river runs away.
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Silent Listener Lydia Short
I was raised in the woods, with a heart and a tongue An ear that can’t hear, two eyes that see one It wasn’t until I turned fourteen That I realized these were the special attributes about me I learned from the leaves and listened to the wind, Based mood upon colors, passed notes through tree limbs My friends four legged and equipped with a tail, Companionship taught me how silence prevails A language so soft it’s perceived through emotion, Conveyed through the eyes, in sync with the ocean A greater understanding hidden in the sand, Each pebble holding a secret unknown to man Deep conversations between myself and the trees, I listened to their stories encrypted in the leaves, I try to explain the way that I speak, The things the forest tells me when words are too weak A language too intimate to be touched by man, Have we forgotten we once lived off of this land? This world expects a perfect tongue, Communication lost within a language that doesn’t require one How do we speak the words deep in our souls, When word-count and format have become our only goals? The beauty of language is not heard by man, It is touched by the soul, it doesn’t follow a plan The smartest of minds did not learn from a page, They read the world as a book, approaching new chapters with age
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Innocence is stripped with deadlines and tests, Parents are worried children are not doing their best, But how can you expect a child to learn? When wisdom is portrayed as something that is earned
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Poem
Lydia Short
I feel it everywhere around me,
like a quilt, draping my head to my toes,
keeping me warm.
oh, yes.
I can see it,
as the hairs on my arms rise, like the first ray of sunlight
beaming down,
just for me.
oh, yes
I can hear it everywhere. As the wind whispers through the leaves,
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my face becomes wet
as the clouds sing down onto my cheeks,
I smile. Because I know,
Music Will Never Leave.
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Introduction To Literature 32
Galaxies and Mud Puddles Amy Goodson
Converting a Short Story to a Poem Rocket Night, a night most of us look forward to. The night we shoot the least memorable child into the stars. We meet in the gymnasium, as is custom, and mingle with cupcakes and Hawaiian Punch as the children play. Who have they chosen this year? Daniel, was it? Or Donald? I can see why they chose him, he is the most objectionable. I mean, just look at him. We hope his journey is joyful. We applaud the impending launch, his parents half-heartedly, looking rather pale, as is customary. We follow the principal to the playground to witness the launch in all its metallic glory. Our children pry the frightened boy away from his mother’s skirts and shove him in. At last secured in his tiny space coffin, not even his favorite pencil to comfort him, his face pressed against the window, we watch in awe, the rocket blast, the pyrotechnic display reflected in our children’s eyes. 33
He drifts into space, and out of our thoughts, with only a microphone to keep him company. Sometimes I imagine them all up there drifting, narrating their lives from the depths of the unknown. Alexander Weinstein’s short fiction story “Rocket Night” is an ominous tale of a community who ritually sacrifices the least-liked child among the students each fall by shooting them off into space in a rocket, for eternity. While utilizing the impactful, precise language of poetry my aim is to maintain the overall tone, imagery, and stylistic feel of the original work in order to most effectively demonstrate the attitudes of the people and reiterate Weinstein’s message about technology. It seems stranger now, during this pandemic, to be writing about this from this perspective, as we are all finding technology to be a huge source of comfort while we are under stay home orders; keeping us as connected as we can be, while observing social distancing. What sort of impact will this have on us? In order to preserve the foreboding tone of “Rocket Night,” I have kept the wording as consistent with that of the original work as space would allow, focusing on key phrases that carry the most emphasis. For instance, upon referencing the location of the event, the narrator adds the phrase “as is custom” (Weinstein 711). This tells us that this ceremonious occasion is steeped in tradition, and just sounds kind of creepy. The narrator later goes on to describe the actions of the parents of the chosen child, stating “his parents applauded less than others, looking a bit pale, but we acknowledged that the parents of the chosen often do seem pale” (Weinstein 712). I have chosen to highlight this connection by retaining the phrase “as is custom” (Goodson line 6), in reference to the gymnasium, and using it again to reference the parents’ reactions in my poem, where it states “We applaud the impending launch,/his parents half34
heartedly, looking rather pale,/as is customary” (Goodson 15-17). These phrases speak to the attitudes of the people. Another example of this are words and phrases like “We” (Goodson 18), “Our children” (Goodson 20), and “the… boy” (Goodson 20). This demonstrates the us versus them mentality the villagers have in relation to themselves and the chosen children and their families. This is similarly exemplified in the phrase “a night most of us look forward to” (Goodson 2). I felt this statement was an important one to retain for its eeriness and also to reiterate the divide among these people, between the haves and the have-nots. Interestingly, I can see this paralleled in the slow government response to the threat of the virus, and the insider trading among some of our state representatives. Now, the imagery of the rocket launch reinforces Weinstein’s message about the proliferation of technology into our daily lives, desensitizing us and essentially killing people’s empathy. We get a sense of this, when the narrator says “those with stars and galaxies in their futures, can be seen at the edges of the field, playing with sticks alone or staring into mud puddles at drowned worms” (Weinstein 711). The narrator uses language like “stars” and “galaxies” attributing a surreal, dream-like quality to their fatal ascent, while the reality of such a journey would be quite the nightmare. This is why I have left the phrase “into the stars” (Goodson 4) intact, in my poem. The speaker also makes note of the chosen children playing in mud and with worms, as if to suggest getting dirty and playing in nature is for peasants. These absurdities showcase the attitudes of the people; they willingly participate in this homicidal ritual, believing the chosen children have somehow earned this fateful end. This illuminates the disconnect this community has from the physical world and what really matters in life, because of technology. The rocket is glamorized, as the speaker narrates “When the rocket blasted off, it made us all take an involuntary step backwards, the light of the flames illuminating the wonder upon our children’s faces… 35
We sighed with awe, some applauded” (Weinstein 712). This scene gives us a deeper view into the psyche of this community while highlighting how the glitz of technology lures us in. To keep this important part of Weinstein’s message alive in my poem, I have included this part “we watch in awe, the rocket blast,/the pyrotechnic display reflected in our children’s eyes” (Goodson 26-27). The community members are more affected by the spectacle of the rocket launch than they are by their sacrifice of this innocent child. The festivity of the event would be similar to that of a blood sport – think PG version of The Running Man. This element is exemplified when Weinstein states “Rocket Night is an event which almost all of us look forward to” (711). This is also why I have included the images of the gymnasium as the meeting place, their enjoyment of punch and cupcakes, the festivities being led by the principal, and the launch site being the playground. The gym and playground are places where children play together and can act most like children, cupcakes and punch are party foods, and the principal is a prominent member of the community, also the leader of the school. The people do not dread this event, they see it as a celebration, basically of their own privilege. One might suggest some of the attitudes among big business recently have mirrored this sentiment, as they seem to be prioritizing their billions over their customers’ lives, as death tolls rise. Poetry forces one to choose more impactful words that carry more weight, which makes it trickier to say exactly what one wants to say. Ambiguity, however, is part of what makes poetry so universal; this allows the reader to make their own connections with the piece, to greater affect. For instance, in the beginning of the story, the narrator talks about the types of children who are chosen, describing them as “least liked” (Weinstein 711), “short, squat” (Weinstein 711), “a boy from India whose name none of us could remember” (Weinstein 711), and the principal then forgets the name of 36
the boy that is to be launched this Rocket Night. The narrator also speaks of the child’s appearance, as being slovenly. In my poem, I have used the phrases: “least memorable” (Goodson 3), “most objectionable” (Goodson 12), and the following narrative “Who have they chosen this year?/Daniel, was it? Or Donald?” (Goodson 9-10). This was my way of inferring these biases without getting bogged down by too many specifics, thus allowing the audience to draw upon their own experiences as point of reference. As far as form is concerned, free verse being more modern and my personal preference, it seemed to be the most appropriate choice as “Rocket Night” is a modern, if not futuristic, story. Currently, it could be argued that certain media outlets, and even the White House, have taken some poetic license with their reports about containment efforts. Ultimately, the aim of my poem version of “Rocket Night” is to most effectively demonstrate the feelings of superiority the villagers have toward the chosen families, while also issuing Weinstein’s warning about the negative impacts of technology on society, to greater affect and scope than in the original work. Hopefully, by maintaining the ominous foreboding tone, highlighting the tell-tale rocket imagery, and utilizing the impactful precise language of poetry, I have done just that. I am finding it stranger to be writing about this now, during this pandemic, since I am appreciating technology like never before, under the current circumstances. Social media and video chatting capabilities are keeping us all connected, in otherwise impossible ways, under stay-at-home orders. However, in a true apocalyptical tale, all of technology and civilization typically fail, leaving in its wake a wild west type of environment for survivors to contend with. I guess that’s the difference between an apocalypse and a dystopia. Works Cited Weinstein, Alexander. “Rocket Night.” Making Literature Matter: An Anthology for Readers and Writers, edited 37
by John Schilb and John Clifford, 7th ed., Bedford/St. Martins/Macmillan Learning, 2018, pp. 710-13.
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Wilderness Ethics 40
Final Case Study Overcrowding Tinia Graham
Wilderness Issue: Crowding at parks Stakeholders: National Park Service and the General Public. I’ll start with my story. It was 1994, Art History in High School where I first turned the page in my oversized textbook and had my first look at a painting by Albert Bierstadt. I remember being breathtaken with mouth agape, as I touched the page. How can this be? How can someone seriously paint awe like that! I found out what the place of the painting and since ’94 it was my #1 must-see place. In 2007, I made the trip and booked my tour. As we rode the shuttle, I knew there were a lot of people at the park of course but I didn’t let it bother me much, I could see glimpses of El Capitan through the trees and soon I would actually see what was in that painting! The shuttle stopped and we all charged off. So, yeah, the formation was fascinating and beautiful, but Bierstadt didn’t paint in all these people of course. I didn’t do any research about the numbers of visitors or anything (I was just focused on getting here to this one location to see this most important sight); I didn’t know anything about the crowding issues at the time but it would not have changed my mind. So, what was missing from the experience I imagined was the whole being breath-taken at the awesomeness. The big WOW just wasn’t there, and I blame the crowds. What I did experience was, being careful not to get in anyone’s way, getting to the fence to get my clear view and some pictures then moving along so that I would not get in anyone else’s pictures. It was loud, with people chattering in different languages, 41
some kids being naughty, lots of strollers and buses, and other tour shuttles (just like mine). I have the memory of being in that place now, but it’s not the serene, jaw-dropping moment I thought it would be. I can’t figure out if I am glad that I went or if I should never have gone. The vision I held before I got there, well it’s still there, but it feels like a fairytale piggybacking on the truth. It is just noise and crowds that just happens to have a great view. I left wondering if I ever wanted to visit a popular park again. The only thing I wanted was to feel like I did when I saw the painting. I didn’t think that was too much to hope for, but it was. Just like you don’t expect a movie to be better than the book, not expect the real thing to be better than the painting. Issues of overcrowding are numerous and not all are listed here: 1. Damage to the experience: Solitude vs Access: Some people seek solitude, but parks don’t limit access. a. Increased noise, trash, waste, transportation. “Parked cars stretched for more than a mile near the bottom of the trail, and hundreds of people splashed mask-less in the canyon’s pools.” (Chow 2020). b. “Full parking lots leads people to park illegally… has also led to more accidents with wildlife and with people” (Vollman 2020). c. Back to “My Story” – A person may go to a park with their “vision” but the actual experience they have with all the crowding will most likely damage their vision. 2. Damage to wilderness/habitat: Ecosystem vs Fairness: Too many people trample wilderness but is it “fair” to keep them from doing it? They have rights to be there also. Hmm…. tricky one. If humans are simply “members of 42
the biota” then everything we do could just be viewed as a natural process? As stewards of the land, at least we try to maintain and preserve the ecosystems. 3. Pollution: Environmental responsibility vs Carelessness/Ease: Seems like people want to be responsible and have clean parks BUT will be fine to litter and graffiti if they find it easier or consider it art. The mindset of “someone else will pick it up, or the park staff get paid to do it or it’s art and I am inspiring people” helps them to justify their actions. Some people probably litter if they don’t find a trash receptacle nearby thinking “the park should put garbage bins on the trail”. Graffiti is viewed both as art and pollution. People may be thinking they are doing something beautiful for the park and others simply see it as trash. A similar issue is discussed in the Outside/In podcast called “Leave No Stone” where painted rocks, called “kindness rocks” are left all over the country (Quimby 2019) Some see them as trash, and some see them as cute little inspirational treasures. Other pollution includes our typical vehicle emissions, noise pollution, waste and trash. “Litter accumulated on the sides of trails and at watering holes. Graffiti materialized on rocks” (Chow 2020) 4. Volunteer burnout: Parks rely on a good team of volunteers to get lots of work done. One volunteer named Mora, from Chow’s article titled “National Parks are Getting Trashed During COVID19, Endangering Surrounding Communities” spoke about a trail being shut down completely so that a team of volunteers to go in clean because there was so much pee and poo, graffiti, and regular trash. Volunteers are superheroes but what happens when they get burned out!? 5. Angry locals and angry visitors: People who live in the area cannot go enjoy the park without hordes which 43
angers them. But on the flip side, many locals make their living on these hordes. Too many people also anger visitors since they have paid money and don’t expect to have to wait hours for things which they have paid for. 6. COVID19 Pandemic! As we know the pandemic has sent tons of people to parks to recreate outdoors causing even more crowding! 7. Rogue or social trails: Too many people all on the same trail causes widening of the trail or people going off trail creating rogue trails. Although the Watermans would certainly have encouraged this as we read throughout their book, they would not want a bunch of rogue trails being created all over the place. NPS needs to know their trails and map. If people are making new ones without the NPS knowing, it causes safety and ecosystem issues. 8. Popular via Social media: Popularity increases with people posting selfies with geotags. It shows everyone that can see the post where to go at the tip of their fingertips. Propose Solutions are also numerous and not all are listed here: Solution 1 – Cap visitation: I feel like the only solution is to just simply limit the numbers. I know this is unpopular. The feeling of “being told” when you can go to the parks just seems odd. But it would solve a lot of problems. The crowds are causing so many issues, visitors get angry, throw trash around, trample where they shouldn’t (often to just get away from crowds), and there’s no place to park. Think about it…if parks could state their carrying capacity, then: • Rangers could do their best jobs, educate and help visitors better because they wouldn’t have to spend so much time on crowd management. 44
• Volunteers would not get burned out cleaning up the same trails over and over every time they get trashed. • Parking and vehicles would not be so congested because there just would not be as many. • Trails not so busy. Trampled vegetation could begin to grow back, and hikers can have the experience they came to the park for. • More locals could enjoy parks and surrounding areas with getting angry at hordes of tourists I believe it is the duty of the NPS to begin implementing some crowd control measures in order to fulfill their mission of, “…the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of this and future generations.” I think they are not doing very well for the future generations. It’s like how the Desert of Maine was created. So much overuse, now the land really is useless, except as a strange place to visit in Maine. I feel it is time for some stricter guidelines to be implemented at parks. I am reminded of a quote from the Waterman’s book, “Without some degree of management, “wildness” cannot survive the number of people who seek to enjoy it” (pg. 47) Solution 2 – Pricing: Originally, I wanted to just propose an increase in park fees for everyone all the time, but then, after research a bit, I realized quick that it is not fair to everyone across the board. With parks having to deal with increased visitations, that means they deal with increased maintenance costs, and more funding must come from somewhere. So maybe we don’t need to discuss and increase every day, but we don’t have to rule it out entirely. Holidays are extremely popular for parks, maybe implementing a Holiday fee? Of course it wouldn’t be popular for visitors, raising costs never is, but I’m thinking of ways to lessen crowds during the busiest of times…..it could work and there would still be plenty of other days in the year when the fees remain the same. What about higher fees to park in the best spots? 45
Solution 3 – There’s an app for that: Alexandra Vollman’s article from June 2020 has an interesting discussion for apps. She discusses ideas from Jeff Olson (Chief of Science Communications Office for NPS). He says NPS is looking at ways to provide information quickly “includes real-time looks as the lines at entry stations, up-to-date signage about parking space.” I am reminded of the Disney Experience App where you can view all the wait times for different rides in the parks. Although is seems very odd to need an app like this at a National Park, I have no doubt it would work great. People already have their phones with them anyway and there is a sort of priceless commodity, called convenience. I am reminded of the “My Disney Experience” app. I used the Disney app all the time when I took my family to Disney World….if a wait was too long at the Mine Train then we headed to another experience and I made sure to get a Fast Pass for Mine Train…it really helped my family have a better time, so perhaps a similar app is just what the parks need. Conclusion: Stewards or just one of the many species of the biota? It is true that the human species is a member of the biotic community, but we must consider ourselves as a special case. If we didn’t then we would have to believe everything we have done and are doing on this earth is completely natural. Building infrastructure, mining/drilling, cutting rainforests, purposely introducing invasive species…. all completely natural things that humans do. We must not forget, however that we are quite a special case. No other species can do what humans can, at the scale we can. We have extreme abilities that other species do not. Ability to research and learn and discovery through science. We know why some things are the way they, and we can try to foresee and react to problems before they happen or try fixing them afterwards. These are the reasons why humans 46
are inherently stewards and we need to become more careful stewards, because, back to the topic of this paper, we are the cause of the crowds. We have made it important to crowd the parks. Through history books, artwork, TV, radio podcasts, sports and social media, we’ve told everyone where the parks are, which ones will be the most popular, which trails are best, where/when to go for the best view and the importance of getting outside. We simply need to become better and stronger stewards for the environment. References 1. Chow, A. (2020, July 22). In COVID-19 Pandemic, National Parks Are Getting Trashed. Retrieved December 09, 2020, from https://time.com/5869788/ national-parks-covid-19/ 2. Evans-Brown, Sam (Producer). Outside/In. Nature Has Done Her Part [NHPR, Audio podcast]. February 6, 2020. http://outsideinradio.org/shows/2020/2/6/ nature-has-done-her-part?rq=laura%20waterman 3. Quimby, Taylor (Producer). Evans-Brown, Sam (Producer). Outside/In. Leave No Stone [NHPR, Audio podcast]. February 14, 2019. http://outsideinradio.org/ shows/2019/1/31/leavenostone?rq=stone 4. Vollman, A. (2020, June 25). Overcrowding and Underpaying at National Parks. Retrieved December 09, 2020, from https://modernconservationist.com/ overcrowding-and-underpaying-at-national-parks/ Waterman, G., & Waterman, L. (2014). Wilderness ethics: Preserving the spirit of wildness. Woodstock, VT: Countryman Press.
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2-D Design 48
Band Poster Jonathan Ho
I used one of my favorite bands to complete a poster assignment for ART 112 2-D Design class. I’ve always dreamed of having the opportunity to collaborate with this band and designing more posters for my favorite bands.
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Blue Blazer Logo Jonathan Ho
This is a final project I completed for ART 112 2-D Design class about brand identity. I designed a logo, business card, and menu for a fictional restaurant & pub called Blue Blazer. I completely enjoyed this project.
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Blue Blazer Business Card Jonathan Ho
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Blue Blazer Sign Peter Mouland
This is among the few pieces of work I’m currently comfortable with going into the Eyrie. It was from my first semester final for 2-D Design and in my opinion is one of my best professional works. For this final we had to create the overall design theme for the logo, sign, as well as other stuff for a pub.
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Music Poster Daft Punk Ann M Stanley
This was crafted in my first year of Digital Graphic Design in 2-D Design. This was to create a music poster with rhythm and limited colors. I really enjoyed the limits placed on the piece, as it had me focus more on how to make sound while being ready to read and understand, yet eye catching to. I had pulled the two colors from the animated cast, as their alien looks where very recognizable and used lines with soft colors to capture the band’s techno beats. 53
Blue Blazer Branding Michaela Qualey
Blue Blaze
ART 112 2-D Design – The Blue Blazer logo and business card was created for my 2-D Design Final. I stood out in this final by being the only student to not use the color blue in my project.
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Blue Blazer Branding Michaela Qualey
Blue Blaze Scottish Pub
Smooth Drinks . Hearty Meal . Open Fire
207-BBL-AZER (207-225-2937)
Michaela Qualey - Owner 124 Bay Road, Bangor Maine
ORDER ONLINE www.blueblazer.com
Blue Blaze
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Commerical Photography 56
Sunrise
Alycia Hall
The photo I am including is the photo I took for my final in the Fall 2020 semester for Commercial Photography. It is an example of HDR photography, and the assignment was to use any of the techniques we had learned that year and create three stock images for the final project. This was one of my favorite photos of the semester. 57
Step by step Connor McDevitt
This was made for Commercial Photography. The assignment was to show how something is done through multiple pictures showing how to do something. It is multiple pictures put together in an order so it looks like step by step instructions. I decided to buy a burger and show a process of opening the burger, eating it, and throwing the wrapper away.
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Ben Model 1 & 2 Amaryah McRobbie
The title of both of these pieces I wanted to keep simple so it’s “Ben Model 1” “Ben Model 2”.These photos were used for my commercial photography final we had to have two people model for us. This assignment called for us to find two models, any age, but one had to be male and the other had to be a female.
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Apple Spice Michaela Qualey
I took this photography for our food photography shoot. The single food item was intended to be displayed in a food magazine article. I enjoyed layering and styling the food to create a stellar photograph.
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Digital Illustration 62
A Mouse Study Meredith Atkinson
This assignment was to create an illustrative work using type in InDesign. The final Image needed to portray shapes and design balance using type and a few simple shape elements.
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Fine Art
Photography 64
The Canoe
Angela Patterson
The canoe was for our Isolation Project. We were asked to take photos of what isolation looked to us. This was taken during spring ‘20 right after Covid-19 changed everything
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Stair Railing
Angela Patterson
The image of the stair railing was for a black and white assignment.
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The Waterfall Angela Patterson
The waterfall was an image for our motion assignment.
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Inro To Graphic Web Design 68
Slice of Life Arts & Crafts Website Mockup Andrew Sikes
The Art Of Life
“The place to find the art of your life”
HomePage
Arts & Crafts Photography Paintings Art Of The Week Furniture
Whats New
About Us
Contact
Cart
Home Page News News Feed
This photo was taken by Andrew Sikes in
October Fest This month is what is known as the Spooky Month. Get your costumes ready and bust out the treats for some limited time offers and some... See More >
Rockland on the coast of Maine. The photo Other
is of the coast with a rockbridge that leads to a lighthouse off the coast. The bridge is only appears at a low tide.
Add To Cart Price of Photo: $30.00 Photo By: Andrew D. Sikes
The Red Train This photo was taken by Andrew Sikes in the woods surrounding the town of Greenville, ME. The train if one of many that pass through the town on thier daily routes. The picture was taken along the tracks that go through the town of Greenville, ME.
Octobers Furniture Seasonsal furniture is here for you to chose from. These items will a limited time deal and will be unavaliable after October so be... See More >
This Is An Ad
Rockland Bay
The work was created to be a website that could sell various pieces of artwork on the internet. The website was designed to have multiple tabs that people could search for different items. The different tabs were Photography, Paintings, Furniture, Other and would have items to buy that fell into that category. Other tabs such as the news tab, contact tab, and the home tab.
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Clara’s Fragrance Emporium Skyscraper banner Seth Welch
This work was made during the Graphic Web Design class during 2020, with the assignment in question tasking each student to create four different ads based on four different sizes. This work is one of several thumbnails Seth had designed in order to understand the quirks of each ad before turning towards ones based around his website.
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Intro to Digital Photography 72
Hibiscus
Skylar Shackley
We were told to photograph multiple items and select the three best photos to submit. This was one of them, and was my personal favorite out of the three.
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A Quiet Place Cassie Thompson
This photo was taken for my Intro to Photography class for composition and color.
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Sky on Fire
Cassie Thompson
This photo was taken for my Intro to Photography class, for finding natural and surrounding light.
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Eye to Eye
Cassie Thompson
This photo was taken for my Intro to Photography class for portraits.
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Breaking the Fourth Wall Ann Stanley
This was crafted in my first year of Digital Graphic Design in Introduction to Digital Photography. This piece was my final, to use all the skills I had learned from the class and to create a single narrative shot. I crafted the whole scene, and placed everything in the setup, as well as the lighting. I aimed to make a piece that would leave you wondering what was happening and seemed mystical as 2-D and 3-D crossed. 77
Intro to Photoshop 78
Pathy Portrait Meredith Atkinson
In 2012 I got a job as a professional ski patroller at a large resort in rural Vermont. I loved the rugged lifestyle, fresh mountain air, and the local weirdos. The assignment was a self portrait using only paths in Photoshop.
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American Dogthic Meredith Atkinson
All of the skills used in creating this piece, that was a gift, were learned explicitly in Photoshop class.
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Project 03
Caroline Decker
This project was done for my Photoshop class last semester. During this project we had to be able to turn the black and white image into a colored image. This had to be one of my favorite projects out of all the ones we did. I chose to turn it purple and green because of the joker who is one of my favorite villains. I also took out the black background and made it red because it makes the flower pop and shows the details of the flower. 81
Postcard
Jonathan Ho (Trung)
This is an assignment in Introduction to Photoshop class, I used many of the famous landmarks of Vietnam to complete this postcard. Thereby I also want to introduce to everyone to more about my country through this postcard.
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Florida Postcard Melinda Manzo
This vintage postcard was done in my first year of the Digital Graphic and Design program in my Photoshop class. I used color that would give it an 80’s Vibe. Also, I focused on a cartoon like effect on the postcard.
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Thomas Shelby Michaela Qualey
Thomas Shelby from Peaky Blinders was my choice on my project using the pen tool in Photoshop. Creating Thomas Shelby’s face was the most challenging part due to his strong jaw line and cuts on his face.
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Yuki Kajiura Musician of Dot Hack Sign Ann Stanley
This was crafted in my first year of Digital Graphic Design in Introduction to Photoshop. This piece was from taking a photo and using the line tools to recreate the colors, as well as the lighting and shading. I did my piece on Yuki Kajiura as I love her music and was listening to it a lot that year. She did music for the .Hack//Sign anime.
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Marketing
Communications 86
Logos
Connor McDevitt
This is called Logos. They were made for Marketing Communications class. They are different choices for logos or my made-up company. If I were to make a product for my made-up company, one of those logos would be on that product.
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Page Layout & Design 88
BMW Ad Card by Seth Welch
This piece is one of two created for the Intro to Page Layout and Design class during the 2020 semester. The piece was part of an assignment that essentially had students create several thumbnails using various provided images based around the BMW car brand, which would end with one being select to finalize and ultimately be used to promote the brand and the model of car present in the images. This was not the image used for the final project, but this design was still liked by several others. 89
Time-Based Media 90
Scene 1 Torrie and Yatto by James Cogswell
Create a script of your choosing. This one is the script for the beginning of my story. By learning to script, It enables others to see the important parts of a story and draw or write them down. ACT I Scene 1 Scene Heading: x-30m Y- -150m Underground Ravine in Mo’lo Torrie standing with his shield out in front of his companion Close up: Torrie (Looking determined and brave) Yatto, you have to leave now! It’s too dangerous with that creature chasing us! Mid Shot: Yatto (looking visibly concerned and worried) I can’t leave now sir! We need to finish this quest! Mid Shot: Torrie 91
(Concentrated on finding a way to convince Yatto) Cutaway shot: Monster Barreling up the slope to ram into the small party of humanoids Before Torrie could react the monster slammed into his shield with its entire body, causing a vibration to ripple through torries body Close up: Torrie (Screams in pain from the shock of the giant muscular body slamming into him) Mid Shot: Yatto Torrie! (Yatto dashes down the slope to pull the attention of the monster away from Torrie) Wide Shot: The Monster notices another humanoid figure dashing at it. It reacts by charging into the figure leaving Torrie on the ground. Extreme Close up: Torrie is on the ground in bleeding as his companion is flung many meters up the slope of the ravine.
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An unknown amount of time passes when Torrie finally awakens on the slope Close up: Torrie: (His head swimming with pain, he leans himself against his shield as he tries to figure out where he is and what time it is) Ugh....What....Where? Point of View: Monster: (The is watching Torrie from higher on the slope. Watching his every move) Many more moments have passed when Torrie finally gets back on his feet. Torrie Now to figure out where Yatto went.
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Typography 94
Form Alteration James Cogswell
l
Iso ation This was to change the text in a simplistic way. By doing this, the word then starts to give off more emotion and meaning. I changed the I in isolation to resemble a wall that closes out the rest of the word.
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The Nanny
Destinee Duprey
The assignment for this piece of work was to choose a movie or television series that had a poorly designed logo. We had to creatively redesign that logo to match the movies or series better. I chose the television series, The Nanny. I created this piece in Adobe Illustrator. I based my design on the main characters eccentric wardrobe and the era in which the show aired (90s)
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Positive V. Negative C. Positive v. Negative Jenny Jordan By Jenny Jordan
This was Part C of the seventh assignment for my Typography DGD221 class in 2020.
It required us to make thumbnail sketches of our initials then use black and white letter forms in Adobe Illustrator to create an overlay of our initials.We were allowed to vary the fonts and sizes, cut sections out of the letters, and slightly alter the paths then we uploaded the finished product as a pdf file with the thumbnails to Assignment 07.
This was Part C of the seventh assignment for my Typography DGD221 class in 2020. It required us to make thumbnail sketches of our initials then use black and white letter forms in Adobe Illustrator to create an overlay of our initials. We were allowed to vary the fonts and sizes, cut sections out of the letters, and slightly alter the paths then we uploaded the finished product as a pdf file with the thumbnails to Assignment 07.
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Illustrative Word Meaning 1 & 2 Jenny Jordon
This was Part B of the fifth assignment for my Typography class in October 2020. It required us to read the DGD 221 01 week 05 PDF, choose four words from the list in the assigned pdf, sketch multiple thumbnails, and then carefully follow the requirements to create one composition in Adobe Illustrator for each word. Of the four, I had chosen Fear, Suspicion, Joy, and Surprise, the former two being the selected words for this chapter.
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Font Typography Sikes Andrew Sikes
The work that was made is a font that I created for the DGD 221 01 Typography course. The font consists of the entire alphabet along with a few other symbols. The font works great but can be a tad bit hard to read at a distant but is good for a fantasy theme.
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Bone Slash Font Seth A. Welch
This was a font created as a result of the assignment for the 11th week of the DGD 221 01 Typography class back in November of 2020. The following is a spread of the complete alphabet of the font created by Seth using bone and crescent shapes, hence the name of the unique font. He first needed to draw thumbnails and also research some already existing fonts for inspiration. However he would come to create this font whilst working on a different font entirely
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