LAMBs Note: To illustrate this year’s theme of pride over prejudice, we’ve selected two photographs, one of BAA students at Boston Pride Parade 2024, and one, Stanley Forman’s Pulitzer Prize-winning photo in 1976, “The Soiling of Old Glory”. The two photos, taken less than two miles, but more than 48 years apart, tell a compelling story when juxtaposed. The use of the flag in “The Soiling of Old Glory”symbolizes the violent attempt to prevent the court-ordered desegregation of Boston Public Schools starting in1974. Almost five decades later, a multiracial, multigender group of students--all of whom attend the same school, our beloved Boston Arts Academy--pose for a picture; one student holds the pride flag in their hands as a gesture of solidarity. For us, the flags, pointed in a similar direction but employed for opposing purposes, confirm the wisdom of a statement Martin Luther King Jr. made in a 1968 speech: “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice.”
Top photo: “BAA Pride” was taken on June 8, 2024, and published here with permission of Rose Marz, BAA librarian.
Bottom photo: “The Soiling of Old Glory” was taken on April 5, 1976 during the Boston busing desegregation protests, and published here with permission of mulit-Pulitizer Prize-winning photographer, Stanley Forman.
A Letter from the LAMBs
Dear Reader,
This year, it seemed fitting to share with you the letter i. As writers, we are indebted to i for making our poetry rich with imagery, irony, and iambs, and our stories exciting with inciting incidents, idioms, and in media res beginnings. And while no one can deny that lowercase i is cute as a button with its little tittle, for all of us humans, capital I is indespensable for expressing our individuality. Afterall, where would me and myself be without I? So, we hope you enjoy your i and put it to good use expressing proudly who you are.
Even so, today, however proud we may be individually, collectively our American society seems rife with divisions over politics, immigration, and other polarizing issues. And so, like our nation, i finds itself stuck in the middle of pride and prejudice. Thus, in this year’s Forage, we’ve selected art that addresses some of our society’s historical and contemporary prejudices, while also choosing art bursting with pride: pride of place and purpose, of culture and community, of identity and integrity, of family and friendship, of self and school. And to emphasize this pride, we’ve organized this edition by the themes of the pride flag with their corresponding colors.
Finally, our school’s shared value, diversity with respect, reminds us that pride need not turn into hubris or self-aggrandizement, that, in fact, pride’s best side is inclusive. Thus, from this liminal space, we choose this year’s theme of pride over prejudice* with the hope that it guides our communities, our society and our humanity toward a more united, inclusive and just place.
With gratitude, LAMB Editorial Team
Anuja, Asher, Finuala, Magaly, Sophia, Teddy & Ms. Brown
*Art titled with an asterisk has a corresponding note in the magazine’s final section.
75
poetic canvas waits just for you.”
Poetry/Spoken Word Cont’d
Time | Anuja Chattergoon
Canvas | Justin Silvestre Vasquez
Fire | Rachel Saint Louis
Star | Asher Doubek
Finuala Nivens
Prejudice | Sophia Salgado
Aayla Morriseau-Claravall
Fall Down | Leonad Tineo
of Innocent | Miles Hunt
Te Extrano |Magaly Olivera Rodriguez
Shephard Interviews
60 A People’s Pottery: Interview with Gustavo Barceloni, Ceramacist | Brown LAMB
114 A People’s Poetry: An Interview with Robert Pinsky, Former U.S. Poet Laureate | LAMBs
194 A People’s Power: An Interview with Leah Baptista-Pires, Class Valedictorian and Vice-President | Sophia LAMB
Short Stories
88 The Muse Murders | Mia Flynn
98 (K)Night |Aayla Morriseau-Claravall
102 Leapard Arts Academy | Elenat Luxuma
Recipe
Bread & Butter| Lisa Polito
Grandma Effie’s Elixir | Ms. Brown
Like | Ms. Brown
Screenplay, Script& Theater
Wille | Olivia Jamrog
Heaven Comes Back |Rye Warner
Champions| Avant Moro Flack
"Every night she ate the dinner her parents had prepared for her and excused herself from the table, even if she sat there alone." 98
speech excerpt from BAA’s Pride Assembly 2025| Aayla Morriseau-Claravall
Right now, President Trump wants to rip transgender people from society... He against the transgender community, removing access to a number of resources. He order that would only recognize the male-female binary promote gender ideology. Not only that, he signed an executive order that would crack down especially people under the age of 19, preventing transgender youth from getting life-saving executive order that would stop federal funding for hospitals that provide hormones and gender-affirming to begin with sucks. But having to live in a society who hates you also … sucks. It is 2025 and I’m myself and I’m a transgender. I either hear good things said about my gender my gender identity. The good things are usually just simple compliments said by my supportive plus community. Well, the bad things are usually said by strangers who know nothing about ty. I get told that I am beautiful or I get told that I am confused. To those who call me me confused, who say that transgender youth are confused, I tell you we are you are confused about us. We are not confused because you want us alien force or propaganda used to corrupt the children. Transgender is the past, the
We deserve to live in a place that doesn’t sign executive
We deserve to live in a place that doesn’t want to strip us of our humanity. Transgender rights, and transgender people are still people. We always have been and always gender siblings, I thank you for being you. To all of my transgender siblings, I of my transgender siblings, I thank you for living with me in a society that does not ty listening to me today, I thank you for supporting me. And to those who believe you, I will always, unapologetically, be transgender…..
| junior
He signed numerous executive orders He signed an execu tive binary and remove material that down on gender-affirming care for all ages, life-saving care. And there’s more. He signed an gender-affirming surgery. Having less rights and it feels like we’re only going backwards.
identity or I hear bad things said about supportive community, that is the LGBTQ about me outside of my gen der identibeautiful, thank you. To those who call are not confused be cause us to be. …Transgender isn’t some the present, and the future.
executive orders against us. Transgender rights are hu man will be. To all of my trans thank you for being alive. To all not want us to live. To my commu nibelieve that I am wrong because I am not ….. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Morriseau-Claravall
film and dance (34:25-40:16)|William McLaughlin, faculty and Kylie Grossmann
by multigrade dancers
ceramic | Josten Cy Janak Parks | sophomore
Thinking Cup
personal narrative | Anthony Thomas | freshman
Iwas in 8th grade. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, or what high school I wanted to go to next year. I heard that high school was when school got serious and colleges would start looking at you, so it was a big decision for me. Now, making lifealtering decisions has never been easy for me. I’m always overthinking and what not. Thinking about the future and where I’ll end up scares me more than Scream--the one in 2022, not the original one, although that one is frigthening, too.
Me and my friend group were all in this sort of rut in terms of picking a high school. We didn’t want to split up, but we also wanted to have our own futures. Ever since 6th grade, my friend, Eddie, had really been talking up this school named Boston Arts Academy. Now, he was thinking about his future, while I was not. He was very artsy and creative, and while I was also creative, I didn’t have much artistic skill. This very much backfired on me when it was nearing the end of middle school with high school just down the road.
Then one day, we got a field trip form. It was for Boston Arts Academy. Now, maybe it was justified or maybe it wasn’t, but my thought process at that moment was: AHHHHHHHH, I don’t know if I want to go there! I was panicking. What made it worse was that my art teacher, Ms. J, said that we should only sign the form if we’re applying.Great. My friends kept encouraging me to go, while I hadn’t even gotten over my irrational thoughts yet. Even though the voices in my head were saying NO, NO, NO, I ended up signing the slip reluctantly.
The day of the tour arrived. First, we went into the auditorium. It was just like a movie theater with those cushioned seats that flip up and an oversized white screen. (I hoped they weren’t going to show Scream which would terrify me more than I already was. It turned out they just showed videos of their students and their art.)
For the next half hour, I mainly zoned out, but I do remember that they went over the statistics of gender and how inclusive the school was and, like, I was trying not to fall asleep. This stuff didn’t interest me! I just wanted to tour the school and see whether my overthinking was justified or not.
The tour didn’t last a long time; we kinda just met some people and saw a bunch of classrooms and then we left. When we got back to the school, I said to myself, Screw it, why not? and I decided that I was going to Boston Arts Academy. And then I remem- bered, I have to apply; I can’t just say I’m going to BAA and poof, I’m in.
Next was filling out the application. I was still in my irrational mindset, so I debated for a while. Fast for - ward about a month or so into the future, and I was still overthinking. I looked at the deadline: January 26, 2024. That was only three days away! Yes, I really was overthinking that much, but somehow I got my application done in time.
After I sent it in, I was relieved that the worst of my troubles were behind me. But then I found out that I had to actually, like, go into the school and…audition. The fear that I felt in that moment was unparalleled by any other anything I had experienced in my short, soon to be shorter, life.
A few days later, I got an email. I opened it. It read as follows, “Dear Anthony Thompson III: This is a gentle reminder. Your Multi-Media Entertainment and Production | Entretenimiento Multimedia y Producción audition is booked for Friday, February 2, 2024, 3:00pm EST at Boston Arts Academy. 174 Ipswich St, Boston MA 02215. We look forward to seeing you all soon!”
WE LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU ALL SOON?! OKAY?! THANKS, I GUESS?
That’s one way to get me very afraid. Tell me that you look forward to seeing me soon. That’s like when I take a test and when I get it back, my teacher tells me she looks forward to seeing me after school. I think they call that irony; I call it torture. That doesn’t give me fear that I’ll mess up. Nope. Not. One. Bit.
Finally, it’s the day. We go into my art teacher’s classroom for breakfast. All that’s on my mind is the audition. What if I mess up? What if I say something dumb and people judge me? What if I can’t do what I’m told due to my rebellious nature and I get thrown out on the streets?
In the Blink of an Eye
ceramic | Samantha Bedoya | freshman
My audition was scheduled for 3:00 PM which gave me more time to overthink! How wonderful. I don’t remember much in the several hours that were in between us getting there and my audition. But what I do remember is that they called for music. They never specified which group, though, since Multimedia is classified under the “Music” category. So me, and what my friends affectionately call my peanut brain, went upstairs to the fifth floor only to be told that it wasn’t my time yet. I went back to the auditorium and I assume I slept because the only recollection of the rest of the day I have is of the actual audition.
The clock hit 3:00. It was my time. Not to shine. To be very afraid. I got up. Climbed the stairs (making sure not to trip and look dumb in the process) and finally made it to the MIDI lab. I sat down.
They ex-
plained what we’d have to do. What we had to do was… put audio over a video. The fear I had immediately evaporat- ed. I thought “All that stress and overthinking for this?! I can do this.”
They gave us 90 minutes and that was all the time I needed to add audio to half of the animation. After the time was up, I went downstairs. I found my teacher and she asked how it went. I said well. I still did have one fear though. Was what I did enough to get in?
A month passed. It was March 12, decision day. During school, all my friends were getting their decisions via email while mine wasn’t updating. I rushed home after school because I was out-of-my-mind anxious (and also due to the fact that my curfew was up soon). I entered my house, got on my laptop, opened up my emails, and scrolled straight down to the email from Boston Arts Academy. It loaded. I took a breath in. I read it:
“Dear Anthony Thompson III: Congratulations! You are invited to be a part of the Boston Arts Academy (BAA) community. The overall quality of the applicants was extremely high and our decisions were very difficult. However, you performed with distinction in the Admissions process and we are thrilled to offer you the opportunity to attend BAA for the School Year 2024-2025 in Grade 9 for Multi-Media Entertainment and Production. We hope you choose Boston Arts Academy and we look forward to seeing you soon!”
WE LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU SOON! For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of those words. I got in. I breathed out. I GOT IN! I was so supremely excited that I celebrated the only way I knew how. By doing absolutely nothing. I told all my friends the great news. They were happy for me. All I knew is that this was a new chapter in my life. A big one.
Hear Me Now Vessel
ceramic | Madeline Gutay| freshman
film
Pedro
Henrique Coelho
| freshman
Brenny O’Brien
Prep Time: utes
Time: 25-30 minutes
Ingredients:
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
1 packet (2 1/4 tsp) active dry yeast
1 1/2 cups warm water
1 tsp sugar
Instructions:
In a small bowl, mix warm water, sugar, and yeast. Let sit for 5-10 minutes until frothy.
In a large mixing bowl, combine flour and salt.
Gradually add yeast mixture to the flour, stirring with a wooden spoon until a dough forms.
Knead dough on a floured surface for 8-10 minutes until smooth and elastic.
Place dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a kitchen towel, and let rise for 1-1.5 hours.
Preheat the oven to 425°F. Shape dough into a round, loaf, or braid and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake for 25-30 minutes until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack before serving.
recipes | Elisabetta
Prep Time: 5
Churning Time:
Ingredients:
2 cups heavy cream
Pinch of salt (optional) Instructions: Pour heavy cream way. Secure lid minutes until butter Alternatively, use until butter separates Strain butter using with cold water.
Store in an airtight
Elisabetta Polito minutes
Time: 10-15 minutes
cream (optional)
cream into a mason jar, filling it halflid and shake vigorously for 10-15 butter forms.
use an electric mixer to beat cream separates from the liquid (buttermilk). using a fine mesh strainer and rinse water. Mix in salt if desired.
airtight container.
P neapple D ar es
c omedic web series |
Valenzuela
free
verse | Aliya Weyrah | junior
I used to go outside, but now I stay in.
I used to find more things, and find more things interestin’.
I’d stare at the trees, and watch the leaves as they swayed in the wind.
I’d pick sunflowers, and feel the rain shower my face.
I’d always find something new and question things I already knew.
Now, I’ve stopped going outside. I rarely have the mind.
Though, I miss the sunshine, and the weight lifting off my spine
Now, I only stay in and find new things from inside the comfort of my own head.
Ife Head pencil on folder | Alexa Nova, sophomore
A
Head of the Class*
clay sculpture | Jeyden Santos | sophomore
Stuffed Dolls*
fabric dolls | Fashion Sewcity Students | sophomores
As she weeps, waves form
Her sailor husband, seasick
Heat rising like a candlewick
His death was an artform
The wave at his toes, angelic
Baby child flushed by sick
Heat rising like a candlewick
|classical music | performed by Nearah
Nearah Sanon, senior and Lillian Chen, freshman
“... it means understanding time doesn’t heal all wounds by itself; it needs a friend to listen.“
free
verse| Anuja Chattergoon|sophomore
Another time in another place
I will not be the girl I am today. I will not be the girl stuck in poverty
Stuck trying to be the girl they wanted me to be.
Another time in another place
I will not be the first-gen girl Who’s always forgiving When she isn’t given anything
Another time I’ll be living with my grandparents And be able to see my dad
More than just 23 minutes in a blue moon
Another time I won’t ever feel jealous
Of a girl who meets “the beauty standards”
Maybe I wouldn’t think I was fat.
Another time I wouldn’t think I need to do more
To be on top of what I already do.
Maybe in a different time, I’d be able to say the things that mattered At the time they mattered most.
Maybe in a different time I’d be able to do me without feeling ashamed for what I am or who I am.
But there is no other Time
Right now
I just am the girl I am today.
upperhouse dancers
Stroll Through the Meadow
digital photo
Leonaldo Sanchez | freshman
I’m not the kind of person who has a lot of friends; it is a personal choice. I value the quality of my relationships more than the quantity; that hasn’t always been the case.
personal narrative| Tomas Labrador ! junior
When I was younger, I craved connections and closeness to other people. I would force myself into relationships I didn’t need and sacrifice potential meaningful relationships for the sake of getting more. I was a fool; I didn’t know what having a friend was until I met Her. We met in 5th grade.
During our first summer, we’d spend days in the East Boston Harbor listening to music together and talking. Neither of us wanted to be at home that much, especially J. She sometimes would ask me to stay with her for a bit longer or ask my mom if she could stay with us for the night. One day, right after our ESL test, we sat next to the basketball court and she pulled out the string headphones we shared to listen to music. Usually, we would talk for a while first and then listen to music, but she was excited to show me an artist she had discovered the other day. It was Billie Eilish—we absolutely loved it. After a couple songs, she played “Listen Before I Go”, and I joked about how depressing it was. J stared at the grass without showing signs of having heard the joke. After a few seconds, she raised her gaze from the floor and looked up to me, giving me the most well-masked smile I’d ever seen.
In September, we ended up going to different schools. We wouldn’t see each other as much, but we would still keep in touch. I would skip the song every time it was played in my playlist. The song was slow, and most of it was just Billie’s vocals accompanied by a piano. I would much rather listen to an upbeat song than stop for a second and listen to it. I didn’t understand the lyrics either. I would hear fragments of words and make a mental map of what the song was about. The weird and uncomfortable sounds in some parts of the song, like the bridge, made it difficult for me to connect with it. So, it just stayed in my playlist as one more of the hundreds of songs in there.
I had made new friends at school too and often canceled plans with J in order to be with them. I even began to date someone, and in March, I introduced her to J. They didn’t like each other. I stayed at J’s house that day because her parents had been out of town for the whole week, so I felt bad leaving her alone. I then realized that we hadn’t had a sleepover for about 6 months; we had to catch up. We spoke for hours in what seemed to be the most genuine conversation I had since I entered school. I had friends at school, of course, but none of them would ask me how I was with any further interest than to seem polite. J was hesitant to talk about her school life. She said that it wasn’t interesting. After a few hours, we headed to her room. It was a mess. There were papers all over the floor. Her bed was undone, and her desktop was full of school papers where I could distinguish the C’s. She saw me looking at her room and gave me the same look she gave me in the harbor. I finally sat on the floor, and she sat in her bed. We decided to listen to some music. I let J choose first. She played Listen Before I Go. The song played, but what once appeared as simple and boring now seemed minimalistic and beautiful. The silence of the song allowed me to hear the raw vocals and the emotion. My English was better too; I could finally understand the lyrics and little words “not okay… leave me…better hurry“ transformed into full sentences: “I’m not okay, I feel so scattered/ don’t say, I’m all that matters/leave me.” It all clicked together then; it wasn’t just a sad song; it was a song about suicide; it was a cry for help. J began to cry in between the last chorus and the bridge as the song entered its climactic moment. What began as a little sob exploded into a scream as Billie sang, “Call my friends and tell them that I love them, and I’ll miss them, but I’m not sorry.“ I stared at her; a thought crossed my mind, but my throat resigned to spill it out. I was about to ask the question, “Are you ok?” but she hugged me, and I thought that was all she needed from me at that point.
In May, my girlfriend cheated on me, and I discovered it the day I was going to a party with J and my friends. I wasn’t in the best mood. At the party, I didn’t want to talk to anyone—I headed to the balcony, hoping to be alone. J followed me a few minutes later, hoping to talk. What began as a conversation turned into an argument where I lost my temper. I was blinded by anger and told her really harmful things. She left. For around an hour, flashbacks periodically crashed into me like a truck: her messy room, the smiles that now were more similar to a shield, the distant look in her eyes. The same thought I had at her house came back—I decided to listen. I ran as fast as I could, “Better hurry,” hoping to get to her place in time. When I got to her house, the door was open. “I’m leaving soon.”
I headed in. It was all dark except for her room upstairs. As I moved in the darkness to the light, every step I made felt heavier and louder than the last one, almost as if I were the only person in the house. I got to her room. I found her, but I was the only person in that house.
At that moment, I wished I had seen the little signs—how her smiles never reached her eyes. I wished I had bothered to put the pieces together. I wished I had overreacted to the signs rather than ignoring them.
Back then, I thought having friends meant having fun, going out, and laughing. But in that moment, I realized that friendship was about the subtle signs, the cries behind the songs they play for you. It means to open up your eyes and see others. It means to ask the questions—as uncomfortable as they can get or as stupid as they might seem. It means understanding time doesn’t heal all wounds by itself; it needs a friend to listen. If I could change anything, I would go back to that day at her house. I would ask her the question she probably wanted me to ask: “Are you okay?” And then, I would listen.
Dos Patos|digital photo|Mateo Cisterna Carrasco|freshman
murals | Jayson Cardoso | ‘24
Artist Statement (for next two pages): Jayson Cardoso studied the Harlem Renaissance artists this year and incorporated the energy and thinking from that era into his work. He created 2 murals that are approximately 6’x8’.
Here is an excerpt from Jayson’s thesis:
In my first piece, drawing inspiration from the Harlem Renaissance artists, my work embodies the vibrant cultural legacy and creative dynamism that characterized this influential period. Influenced by the innovative approaches of Jacob Lawrence, Beaufort Delaney, Langston Hughes, and Romare Bearden, I infuse my art with the rich colors, shapes, and energy that I experience living in Dorchester, Massachusetts. Much like the Harlem Renaissance artists, I seek to capture the essence of my environment, using my Cape Verdean community’s vibrant hues and dynamic forms to reflect their rich cultural heritage.
In contrast, my second piece, rendered in black and white, represents how I often feel seen or portrayed by the world. This monochromatic approach reflects the stark reality of being perceived as “other,” with my rich cultural heritage neither appreciated nor respected. Through the use of contrasting shades, I convey a sense of alienation and the struggle for recognition within a broader societal context. This piece is a poignant commentary on the challenges faced by marginalized communities, highlighting the disparity between the vibrant, complex inner lives of individuals [pride] and the often reductive external perceptions imposed upon them [prejudice].
I’ve known rivers ancient dusky rivers I’ve known rivers ancient dusky rivers
rivers my soul has grown deep like the rivers my soul has grown deep like the rivers
I’ve known rivers ancient dusky rivers I’ve known rivers ancient dusky rivers
my soul has grown deep like the rivers my soul has grown deep like the rivers
Produced by Molly Jo Rivelli | faculty
I’ve known rivers ancient dusky rivers
I’ve known rivers ancient dusky rivers
song (43:54-47:30) | sung by Sequan Mack
rivers my soul has grown deep like the rivers rivers my soul has grown deep like the rivers
ballet (22:06-24:46) | choreographed by Ms. Obeso, faculty
faculty | danced
by Nayjaya Mackay, senior
Ceramicist
Over Tavares March and
Brown LAMB: as interested Gustavo well as the Brown LAMB: A People’s question off by asking,
Barceloni: Brazilian, Brazilian has lot of what you know, self based and mushrooms leave it there
Over savory bites of spanakopita, BAA ceramics teacher, Gustavo Tavares Barceloni, and LAMBs leader, Sonya Brown, sat down in March at one of his Allston haunts to talk about his artmaking journey vision.
LAMB: Well, since we’re at this restaurant, I’m wondering if you’re interested in the dishes themselves as you are in the food.
Gustavo Tavares Barceloni: I was interested in the food that went on the plate as the plates themselves.
LAMB: I was listening to the interviews you did for a recent project, People’s History of Allston, and it seems that you asked the participants a question like, how would you describe yourself? So, I’m just going to start asking, how would you describe yourself?
Barceloni: Oh, I guess the first few labels that come to mind are like I’m a 29 year old, ceramic artist. Though, you know there’s many more labels, I could say, but being has definitely shaped a whole lot of who I am. I’ll say I’m a socialist; that forms a what I am. It forms my desire for a better world and to build a cooperative community, know, so that goes into teaching my art and everything else. I would also, describe myon some interests. I’m a forager, always in the forest looking for, you know, plants mushrooms and my connection to nature. That informs my worldview a lot. So yeah, I’ll there for now. But those are, I think, big parts of who I am.
LAMB: How did you get introduced to ceramic arts and what is its continued appeal for you?
Barceloni: It started in high school. I was generally interested in sculpture. I was interested in art. But I actually did not like working with clay at first. I hated it it would break and mess up. And I was frustrated. Clay teaches you some patience, for sure. And I just kind of stuck with it through all the trial and error.
And I think what really hooked me was working on the potter’s wheel. That just felt very exciting and fun and interesting. And I was just hyper-fixated on how to make a good pot on the wheel. So that got me really interested into going to art school.
And it was really between art school and culinary arts that I was going to decide on which way to go. At the time, I was involved in a program called Future Chefs. Helps high school students develop culinary skills. So basically, I kind of did both. I went to Mass Art while also working in the restaurant at the time called Top of the Hub. And I would collaborate with chefs and make ceramic arts. So I was interested in the food that went on the plates, as well as the plates themselves. And that marriage was very exciting for me.
And clay is this material that can be shaped into basically anything. There is this intimacy to it, you know, that favorite mug that someone uses every morning once they sip their tea. It is part of our daily rituals of our food, of when we get together to eat, how we serve our food, and I’m interested in it as like an instrument for building community. I’m interested in also in its potential to become a lot of things.
So I guess I’m obsessed with the medium because it’s something that I am now really good at and I feel really comfortable working with. The potter’s wheel is still exciting to me, it’s still interesting to me, it’s still a challenge in different ways. And yeah, there’s like an endless rabbit hole of, you know, more to learn when it comes to ceramics, ceramic chemistry, and different processes and different techniques. So yeah, I guess it never gets old for me in that way.
Brown LAMB: Okay, so a few of your students’ work from BAA, few pieces are gonna be included in this year’s magazine. As a ceramics teacher, as a teaching artist, what do you hope to instill in your students?
Barceloni: Well, I want them to understand the relevancy of clay of how the medium has been used throughout history and how artists can use it today and have used it today. Of course, I want them to learn you know the methods and techniques to help get their you knowdeas into reality. But yeah I want them to understand the importance of why this material matters. What it’s done in people’s lives both as like its practical sense of how it’s helped us preserve food, helped us carry on traditions, helped us tell our stories and also like how they
can do the same. How students can tell their stories through clay and how they can be part of that conversation and that tradition.
Brown LAMB: How to do you help people share their stories?
Barceloni: I made this installation piece where I took a popcorn machine, I painted it. I made clay popcorn pieces, hundreds of them, and [people] would kind of refer to that scent when you smell something it brings you back to a certain place. For me it was Curitiba where I was born, the popcorn maker on the street. And you know they often have the sweet and the salty popcorn, and for me again these memories are also sweet and salty.
So, I invited people to take a popcorn piece, take one of these ceramic popcorn pieces and they would also answer on a piece of paper what place are you nostalgic for? What complicates that feeling? So this participatory artwork would help people share their stories, share those thoughts and feelings that they might have bottled up inside.
Brown LAMB: That’s a great segue. So telling stories and using this medium, you recently had a project, A People’s History of Allston. First of all, that title reminded me of People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn, is there a connection there?
Barceloni: Oh, for sure. I read that book and it definitely did open my mind a lot to the realities of, you know, the US and what it’s actually like and that is the basis for many spinoffs
Gustavo Barceloni (right), interviewing an Allston resident (left) for his project, A People’s History of Allston *.
of like a people’s history of something, similar to this project. What is from the community’s perspective? What is from the people’s perspective of what’s going on? So the question of who tells the stories and who writes the history, I think it’s really important. And that’s why it was motivated to start with my own neighborhood, my own neighbors to tell their perspective of what’s going on around us.
Brown LAMB: Okay, can you tell me a little bit about the process of engendering that project with the community?
Barceloni: To begin with, this was an initiative, through my partnership with the Harvard Ed portal. And the Harvard Ed portal had this call for artists in the neighborhood to join this sort of like months long cohort where we would kind of learn various things that would help benefit us as artists in our careers and kind of support the kind of projects we would want to envision.
So, my project that I came up with was was this one, because I want to find the means to engage more deeply with my neighbors and also help my neighbors tell their stories and be engaged in the community themselves. So, yeah, I wanted that sort of reciprocal relationship.
What happened is, you know, I would have a slab of clay. I would have a bunch of stamps, stamps I’ve made, stamps I’ve gathered, and some tools. And I would interview my neighbors. They would tell about their memories and about what they see in the present changing, what their hopes were for the future of Allston. And after recording that audio, we would also record that story in clay by stamping their story into that clay slab. Later, I would take that slab, form it into a mug for them to be able to take home, for them to be able to, you know, continue sipping some tea, spilling the tea, you know, telling their stories.
And of course, what’s involved in that is a pledge. So after our interview, a pledge of action, what they would want to do to be a better neighbor, to help their community, to increase their knowledge or skills that can benefit the community. So, yeah, those were the main parts of it.
And I would show up in places like old folks home. I’ll show in Jackson Mann’s Community Center, down the street, some close-by businesses. I would go to the park, Ringer Park, all these kind of iconic locations in Allston to kind of meet people where they’re at and literally help them get involved into, you know, an art process that would be easy for them to, you know, be involved with.
Brown LAMB: Okay, so for this year’s all-VA exhibit at BAA, you showcased the large jar. I think it was part of the A People’s History of Allston Project, right? Would you just speak about that piece a little bit, or maybe any particular, like, symbols or words on it that, you know, are very meaningful for you?
Barceloni: Yeah, for sure. So, when this, you know, exhibition finally happens, right? All my neighbors got together, they got to see all the mugs, they got to see, share their stories, they got to all meet up at this exhibition. Was it at the Harvard Corridor? That’s where they came.
That vase was also like a kind of centerpiece. And what it contained was the audio recording from all the interviews. So blaring out from inside of this space was the neighbors voices, you know. So, and the pot itself on the outside reflected a lot of what the neighbors said. So a lot of these symbols, words, and things came from the participants themselves.
I interviewed folks from this neighborhood as well, where they would say, if you were sick, someone would bring you some soup, you know, people knew your name, then they knew where you’re going through, and they would help you out. People had each other’s backs. But development comes around, buys up these homes, kicks people out of their neighborhood, bulldozes these homes down, builds up something else, right?
So what you see on that jar is a group of people with picket signs, you know, saying things like, you know, like artist power, you hear. On the other side of that jar you see these dragons sitting on top of coins, you know, like the classic hoarders of wealth, you know, kind of in myths and whatnot, and label these developers like Samia and Hamilton and others, Harvard even. Harvard University owns a third of Alston, you know, and it’s, yeah, this fight being played out, which is why this question is posed on the top of the jar, saying, what side are you on, right?
Brown LAMB: On the link that I saw you described yourself as artist-activist and so I’m wondering what are some specific issues you really want to address in your art.
Barceloni: The thing I focused on a lot was like my own personal experience, someone, you know, born in Brazil, grew up in the United States, that relationship which causes all sorts of questions and confusions about who I am, right? So being not 100% Brazilian, not feeling 100% American, that sort of in-between state is something that growing up, resonate with immigrant children or children of immigrant parents. And yeah, the question of like authenticity of like, am I being true to my roots or true to who I am or who am I really?
That’s something that I answered often through my art. I want to kind of represent that experience, that cultural confliction that so many people face. And it’s cathartic in the sense that yeah, it helps get these thoughts out into something tangible, you know, and if a picture is worth a thousand words, you know, making art that represents that. Yeah, it really helps me out and also helps out someone who is maybe feeling this way, but doesn’t have the words or the art ability to do so. So I felt a responsibility in that sense.
Brown LAMB: The last question for all of these Shepard Interviews is where do you see your art or you leading others in the future?
Barceloni: I think the lessons I want to leave behind are that artists need to get organized; they need to do collective work. Our power is greater together than apart. Art is best when shared. It’s best when it makes a difference. It’s best when it helps others. Art is also maybe best when divorced a bit from profit; sometimes it’s about funding your art rather than art making you riches. And finding out how to do that is something that’s really important for artists to explore. Yeah, educate those around you, agitate and organize. Those are the main things I want to leave behind in this life.
join an organization or start an organization. Revolutionary, radical, that’s what’s needed because we need radical change for the problems, right? That are deeply rooted in our society, that need to be uprooted and replanted. So, yeah, help plant that seed, help uproot those weeds, help water that, help the sun shine, and help us dance a little along the way too, you know? Joy is needed, isn’t it? Building hope is an important project. That’s what’s needed.
Brown LAMB: I love that. Thank you so much.
People’s History of Allston
Gustavo
Barceloni , adjunct faculty
Grandma Effie’s Elix
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Blending Time: 5 minutes
Ingredients:
1garlic head
thumb length of ginger
1 lemon
2 cups of honey
Instructions:
Peel the garlic and ginger, and cut into half-inch pieces. Cut the lemon in half to deseed it, but keep the peel on. In a blender, pour the honey. Add the remaining ingredients and blend until smooth. Pour in a glass jar, put on a lid, and store in the refigerator.
“Sunsets paint a stunning hue,”
NelsonNguyen
sophomore
villanelle | Justin Silvestre Vasquez | junior
The sky, so vast and blue, With clouds floating in a dance, A poetic canvas, waits just for you.
Sunrises dawn each day anew At the world’s entrance The sky, so vast and blue.
Birds soar high, their freedom true, As they sing their melodies, perchance, A poetic canvas, waits just for you.
Rainbows after rain, a magical view, Colors arching in a joyful stance, (Across) The sky, so vast and blue.
Sunsets paint a stunning hue, As the stars begin their nighttime prance, A poetic canvas, waits just for you.
All day, gaze forward, down or askew But nary an upward glance (Toward)The sky, so vast and blue. A poetic canvas, still waits for you.
free verse | Rachel Saint-Louis | junior
Her hair burns winter fire. The crisp burn she had.
The daze I was in.
I felt warmer within every second that passed. Every second that blew in between her strands of ember.
All I wanted was her.
I desired her, the days were so cold and moody agone from my love.
My desires.
My fire.
but so I shall never be seen by her.
The different seasons we live in, I feel her but she will never me.
The more I hope for her eyes to set upon me the more she dwindles away into the wind.
So with furthermore.
I shall burn this love I have and writings I withhold in my heart made of wood, and burn it in the embers of my chest. For what I have, that’s hotter than ever known.
sonnet | Asher Doubek |sophomore
The stars drift slow beyond my windowpane. Their hush recalls the stories you once told.
You spoke of skies with wonder, not disdain, And gave the moon a meaning rich and old.
Your hands, like roots, were firm and worn by time, Yet held the weight of worlds without a strain. You taught me strength through silence, not through chime, And laughed like thunder softened into rain.
Now in the dark, I seek your voice once more— A calm that settled storms inside my chest.
Though you are gone, your light still guides me sure, A compass set within my heart to rest.
So when I gaze at stars too vast to chart, I find you there, still the steady beat in my heart.
performed by Freshmen Dancers Majors
(0-5:07) | directed by Mr. Rivelli, faculty and conducted by Brian Washington*, senior
choral music (27:05-29:24) |directed by Ms Rivelli, faculty |sung by Combined Choirs
film|written & directed by Rye
Rye Warner|senior
installment 2 |A Mia Flynn Murder Mystery | sophomore
Mavis Kennedy handed Captain Smith the police report she had been given back and looked at the scene around her; it was a mess. Police cars littered the academy’s back lawn, forensics workers were knee-deep in mud, and a crowd of students was frantically looking over the shoulders of officers.
“I’m afraid you got your work cut out for you, Kennedy.” Captain Smith gave her a tight smile and clapped his hand on her shoulder.
“I’m afraid I do.” Mavis deadpanned and gave the Captain a curt nod before walking over to the forensics team.
As she walked away, she felt her boots squelch in the mud; the prints that were left were prominent.
“Detective!” A young forensics investigator with a tape measure called out.
“What is it?” Mavis asked while making her over to him. Looking over, she saw the investigator holding up the tape measure to large footprints in the mud, and just to the left of them, a long rut ran perpendicular. Mavis reached into the pocket of her trench coat and pulled out a small, spiral-bound notebook and pen.
“Shoe size is an eight and a half, the indents of the shoe indicate that the killer was wearing work boots,” The investigator informed. “The drag marks align with the mud that was found on the victim’s dress and shoes. But the marks start halfway between the school’s main building and the lake itself.”
digital illustration ! Aayana Kelley Young ! sophomore
“Where are the prints coming from?”
“Not sure. Somewhere from the school, but they’re less defined as they get closer to the building. Hard to define an exact path.” Mavis nodded and jotted down all the information into her notebook before snapping it shut.
“Thanks.”
Just as she began to walk away, a glimmer caught her eye, standing out in the sea of dark mud like a star. She crouched down and rummaged around in her pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief and laid it over her hand before digging into the mud. Her fingers got a hold of a flat, bumpy, semicircle with thin spikes. She tugged it out of the mud and cleaned off the object with her handkerchief, revealing a glimmering silver hair clip with intricate flower engravings and decorated with pale pink jewels.
“Hey! Can I get an evidence bag for this?” Mavis shouted out to no one in particular as her attention was captured by the glittering clip in her hand.
A woman forensic investigator rushes over with a clear evidence bag and opens it right under Mavis’s hand. Mavis carefully wrapped up the pin in her
illustration in colored pencil
Naomy Chavez sophomore Characters
handkerchief and deposited it into the bag and stood back up, brushing her hands off.
“Get that checked for any hair; see if it belongs to our vic.” She orders the woman before opening her notebook once more and scribbling down a quick note: The victim possibly dragged by her feet would explain why her hair clip was lost in the mud.
The woman she was speaking to gave a quick nod to her before running off to one of the forensic vans. Mavis turns away and goes back to following the footprints in the mud. The prints began to get lighter and lighter, and barely even an indent in the soil could be seen when she passed the back doors of the main building. Carefully, she watched and followed every step before eventually finding herself at the school’s greenhouse. She looked at the stone step that led to the glass door, and resting on it were a pair of muddied gardening boots.
Mavis hummed to herself as she passed the boots and made her way into the greenhouse; she pushed the door open, and she was hit with hot, humid air and the smell of fertilizer. Inside, she found a mess of broken and knocked over flower pots; gardening tools were littered across the floor. She bent down to look at a pair of sheers when she heard shouting and rapid footsteps up into the greenhouse.
“Detective Kennedy!” A high-pitched voice chirped with glee over the yells of men. Mavis turned around and saw a skinny girl with bright orange hair tied up into a sloppy bun. She wore bright rainbow striped stockings, a dark brown skirt, a white button-up, and a pair of red glasses; a camera hung around her neck, and a satchel bag was thrown over her shoulder. The girl had a wide smile as she eagerly held out her hand.
“Lori Campbell, at your service.”
(27:02-31:18)|
salsa
choreographed by Tatiana Obeso, faculty | performed by by multigrade
multigrade Dance Majors
music | (44:33-47:18) |directed by Mr. Bradley, faculty | sung by
Home was often times lonely. The girl’s parents worked late nights and had business trips to attend, too, leaving her alone in a house fit for three. The girl’s favorite color was red, and she liked to sing while strumming the strings of the ukulele she got for her 12th birthday. She liked horses, and she liked knights in shining armor. She liked to imagine stories to go along with her songs, and she liked to make them about knights in shining armour riding horses. She wondered if her parents would come to her shows when she became famous.
Whenever she picked up her ukulele, she added a new part to her never ending story. A new tune, a new adventure. Sometimes she wished that a knight in shining armour would one day gallop up to her front door and take her away to a new life. She wished that the knight would be charming and handsome. She wished that he also liked the color red, that he liked to sing songs and play the ukulele, and that he also liked horses.
Every night she ate the dinner her parents had prepared for her and excused herself from the table, even if she sat there alone. Every night she lit a small candle in her room and stayed up past her bedtime, even if she had school the next day. And every night, she brought out the ukulele she got for her 12th birthday to sing about the knight in shining armour who rode a horse, and liked the color red, and also liked to sing and play the ukulele; just like she did. And every night she wished that the handsome and charming knight would come into her life and make her feel less lonely.
Ignited | acrylic on canvas | Stella Shippy | senior
“human and otherwise”
short story | Elenat Luxuma | freshman
Acold puff of air curled off from Chichi’s lips as she lightly wrapped her arms around herself. She took a step forward to face the sleek, contemporary-looking building before her. Behind her followed Sunny, Sasha, and Orlu, wrapped in buttoned-up jackets with thick scarves and red blush on their noses. Orlu had displeasure written all over his face, Sasha looked unfazed at the weather, and Sunny braced herself quietly against the enraged winds.
“Is this seriously how you Americans live?” Orlu asked with disdain, a trail of cold air billowing from his lips. Sasha shrugged, and Sunny gave an awkward smile. Fervent winds and powdered blizzards did not deter the Bostonians from populating their winter wonderland.
“It’s not that bad”, she softly answered. “You get used to it once some time passes.” She shoved her hands inside her pockets as the cold started to stiffen her fingers. While the others conversed, Sasha lifted his gaze from his iPhone and glanced up towards the name of the building. Written in white, bolded letters, it spelled out ‘Boston Arts Academy’.
Self-Portrait Using Royal Indian Painting
watercolor, colored pencil, and pen
“So this is where Oga sent us, huh? I never thought I’d ever set foot in Boston, considering there aren’t many black people compared to Chicago.” He remarked, throughout all the trip he couldn’t count on his finger the amount of white people he spotted from time to time as they drove to Fenway. The building in front of them wasn’t too bad, he thought. It was seamless and well-designed with artistic symbols that hung against the Windex-clear windows. It reminded him of the huts inside of Leopard Knocks.
“I can’t believe we got sent to this. We could travel anywhere in the world, and Anatov chose one of the coldest, windiest parts of America.” He sneered, pulling his beanie further down his head. “Orlu’s right, why would Anatov choose a public art school out of all the places in the world?” Sunny added. Their mission was to collect data on the fluctuations of juju in North America, but the last place they expected their mission to be carried out was…Boston.
“When is someone going to open this stupid door for us?” Chichi whined, causing the other three to stop their questioning. “We’ve been standing in this snow for ten minutes and I’m afraid if we keep waiting longer, my buttcheeks will freeze off and fall out!” She was right, the sky was covered by a lacklustre gray that sucked the happiness out of Boston residents and turned them into bitter, mindless zombies, especially the drivers.
Snowflakes gracefully fell from the sky to their inevitable death while the wind angrily blew aside anything in its path. Meanwhile in Leopard Knocks, the residents were probably being gently toasted by the sun’s resplendent rays. As Sasha, Sunny, and Chichi patiently waited outside, Orlu decided to call Anatov to have someone open the door for them.
After a few minutes of waiting in the biting cold, a friendly-looking security officer came and warmly introduced them to the building. He was neither too short nor too tall, his body clad in a dark navy uniform, and his grayish hair was a testament to how much he had served the building.
“The interior is actually smaller than how the exterior looks!” exclaimed Chichi, earning a few nods of agreement from the others.
“The Obi library could fit two of this building. Considering it’s a US school, I was expecting it to be bigger,” said Orlu.
Sasha’s eyes slightly widened from bewilderment and he scoffed. “So you just expect everything in the US to be enormous?” he asked. “Not every school in the US has the funds or the privilege to be this size,” Sasha explained.
“Well, if that’s truly the case, then maybe the US shouldn’t market itself as this superpower haven for intellectuals, especially if more than 20% of the population is uneducated, including you.” Orlu spat out, causing Sasha to cringe.
“Especially if more than 20% of the population is uneducated, including you,” he mocked, his tone laced with rising anger.
Sensing the rising tension between the two boys, Sunny moved in closer to Orlu while Chichi wrapped her arms around Sasha’s.
The school was almost empty, and the noise was so minimal that the sounds of their steps bounced off the walls. Only a few students roamed the near-desolate halls, with the occasional staff person stopping to say ‘hi’ to the Oha coven. While they were being escorted by the security officer, they made sure to keep an eye out for any juju in the air. After all, Anatov’s brief message was clear: Find new recruits.
Climbing the grey marble-like stairs from the first floor, in which seemed like an interminable flight, they finally reached the second floor. Unlike the first floor, it wasn’t filled with cafeteria seats and tables; it was a simple corridor that led to a hallway farther down.
“Wait here for the guide. He’ll be there soon,” the security guard instructed, leaving us four nearby the door to the upper floors. Making sure the officer left, Sunny decided to speak.
“Do any of you sense any juju around?” Chichi shook her head, and so did Orlu and Sasha.
“If there was,” Chichi prompted, “I would’ve sensed it by now.” Orlu lifted up his head thoughtfully.
“Maybe Anatov was incorrect; maybe this place has no juju at all”, concluded Sunny, which earned a laugh from Sasha and Chichi.
“Anatov? Wrong? Anatov could calculate more possibilities than a supercomputer could; the problem is not likely to him,” Orlu commented. Sunny’s cheeks flushed and she sheepishly looked off to the side.
It didn’t take too much time for their guide to arrive. He was a tall, white American boy who looked around the age of sixteen. Their senses immediately sent out alarms. This boy was not an average lamb. Or perhaps better said, he isn’t a lambat all. The Oha coven glanced at each other before Sasha took the initiative to say something.
“Hi, my name’s Sunny,” she greeted. “The girl next to me is Chichi” Then, she pointed toward the two boys. “This is Orlu and Sasha. What’s your name?” she asked politely.
The boy didn’t respond; instead, he lifted up his hand with unfamiliar hand motions that made the Oha coven break out in confusion. Upon seeing their bewilderment, he pressed a finger to his lips and then wagged it in the air. Orlu’s face brightened.
“Are you…signing?”, Orlu asked hesitantly. The boy nodded assertively while pulling out a clipboard and a piece of paper. Sunny and Chichi watched in a mix of curiosity and awe while Sasha remained as imperturbed as ever. The sound of pencil scratching against paper echoed down the deserted hallway as the group waited patiently.
The boy paused for a moment before hanging the clipboard in the air. On the piece of paper were messily written words: ‘My name is Dustin. I will be your guide for BAA. Let me know if you have any questions’. The group nodded enthusiastically, except for Sasha, whose face was flooded with agitation as they began the tour.
Cat alibrije | Yaslene Marizan
The Oha coven conversed while Dustin led the way to most of the floors, showing off the studio rooms, the music rooms, and a variety of academic classrooms. Dustin, it turned out, was very expressive and mischievous, and Chichi liked him for that reason. Upon realizing that, Sasha’s mood became downright sour. It seemed like he was made out of salt and vinegar, and everything sinister.
While the tour continued, Sunny confronted Dustin about whether he was a Leopard person. At first, he immediately denied the assumption, but soon after Orlu’s pestering, he conceded and revealed the truth. He did have juju in his bloodline, and it turns out that Anatov was right; there are juju carriers in this school. Perhaps not all of them were Leopard people, in the way that American values were slightly different from Nigerian values. Americans seemed more laidback and informal with their values in the eyes of the Eastern world. Leopard culture here wasn’t solid either; it was a mix of opinions and an amalgamation of cultural values.
“So, how strong is your juju, Dustin?” Chichi purred, intentionally trying to wind up the boy. Dustin picked up his clipboard and wrote down ‘It depends on what you consider strong, Chichi’, flashing her a conceited smirk. Sasha immediately wrapped his arms around Chichi’s shoulder with a look that screamed back off. Chichi just laughed in response, while Orlu rolled his eyes and Sunny remained quietly present.
“You’re right,” Chichi admitted. “How about we have a little duel? Right here, while nobody’s looking,”
“What?! Chichi, this is school property, an American one at that! Did the cold freeze off your brain cells or what?”Orlu spat out.
“Hey, calm yourself down, Orlu, it’s just a friendly duel”, Sasha quickly interjected.
“You’re only saying that because you want Dustin to get beaten to a pulp”, Orlu countered, which earned a grunt from Sasha in response.
“Chichi, I don’t think this is a good idea. Remember, the last time you summoned a masquerade full of insects. Besides, we don’t know Dustin’s capabilities. Please think for once.” Sunny pleaded. Dustin watched the whole ordeal with amusement on his lips, and Chichi shook her head excitedly.
“Don’t worry”, she reassured, “I got this. Besides, it’s a friendly little duel, not a battle. What’s a kid like him going to do?”
Chichi did one of the oldest tricks in the book. She waved her hands in the air and faked a confused expression.
Orlu sighed and took Sunny’s hands, leading them a few meters away while Sasha leaned back against a nearby wall. Dustin walked up to Chichi, towering over herlike the Empire State Building. He signaled for Chichi to start, and she gladly took the invitation.
Dustin took two steps forward, only to stumble back from an invisible force. He walked to the right, then to the left, and finally back, but there was nowhere to move. She literally caged him in. Dustin smirked.
Suddenly, the whole Oha coven felt an uprising in Juju, ringing every alarm bell in their heads. Dustin opened his mouth, but no words came tumbling out. Instead, it was a high-pitched wail that pierced the space around them. A rising ball ascended from the tunnels off his throat. It was covered with a sinister stench that was filled with the distorted screams and wails from unidentified individuals. The Oha coven covered their ears as Dustin broke off the invisible cage.
Soon, the reality around them started to crack like shattering glass. The ball glowed with a visceral scarlet as it began to shift and contort like a trapped fetus. It seemed like Chichi screwed up badly. The Oha coven could barely open their eyes as glass shards and miscellaneous objects were flung around like ragdolls.
In an instant, a warm feeling started to envelope them; it felt smooth and buttery. When they looked up, it was all paint. Acrylic paints, oil paints, watercolor, gouache. They all seamlessly traveled the space like a bullet train in the form of a rainbow. The Oha coven turned in the direction where it first emerged, and they spotted three feminine figures that stood as menacingly as the Powerpuff Girls with colorful guns.
‘That’s the American spirit,’ Sasha thought gleefully. The taller girl, one with dark hair and navy ends, lifted up her baby blue gun and aimed for the scarlet ball. Bang! The bullet sent a ripple of aftershock to all the individuals nearby. As
“Seriously, Dustin? We have new guests, and you pick a fight with them?” The younger one said. She had an extended cut that stretched out from her eyebrow to the bottom of her lip, but her blonde bangs curled up against it, almost successfully hiding it from sight.
Dustin shrugged with no remorse as he watched the rainbow particles clear up the previously shattered space. Like threads, they mended back together the reality they were in; the sky wasn’t shattered, the objects went back to where they were, and the chaos in the hallways cleared up as if there hadn’t been a fight in the first place.
For the rest of the day, the Oha coven remained silent. It was to be expected. Orlu couldn’t rescue the day like he usually does. Chichi ended up in trouble again. Sasha was being a prick. And Sunny… remained Sunny. Anatov was going
| Taylor Kilkenny | junior
alibrije
Torrent (Etude Op. 10 No. 4)
| Forage Arts Magazine
classical piano| played by Lillian Chen | sophomore
Currents
modern dance choreographed by Da’Von Doane danced by multigrade
book based on “Beige” lyrics by
pop-up
Yoke
Lore | KT Hamilton | sophomore
Ooooooo
pop song | Jacquelyn Garcia Pena | sophomore
Verse 1
I think back to the time of my first kiss
I struggle to remember it
Like how long I had to wait
Or the length of her waist
I can’t remember it
Except for the taste
Pre-chorus
Her lips were tainted a slight pink
Or was it red I don’t know
But it sure as hell wasn’t lipstick
Chorus
Ooooooo I just wanna taste your cherry chapstick
You know what girls that like girls wear
Please lick your lips
Then grab my hips
Pull me in real close
Like there’s an apocalypse
I just wanna taste your cherry chapstick
Your cherry chapstick
Verse 2
I think back to the sweet taste of your lips
I’ll never forget
Or am I lying, was it when We helped each other stand
Now I remember, it was
When we first held hands
Pre-chorus
Your lips were tainted a slight pink
Yes, this time I remember it
Ohh I know
Ohh I knowww it wasn’t lipstick
Chorus
Ooooooo I just wanna taste your cherry chapstick
You know what girls that like girls wear
Please lick your lips
Then tickle my midriff
Pull me in real close
Like there’s an apocalypse
I just wanna taste your cherry chapstick
Your cherry chapstick
Pre-ending chorus
I kissed her lips (She kissed my lips)
She licked her lips (So I licked my lips)
Tell me what this is (Tell her what it is)
TELL ME WHAT THIS ISSSS
Ending Chorus
Ooooooo I just wanna taste your cherry chapstick
You know what girls that like girls wear
Please lick your lips
Then kiss my lips
Pull me in real close
Like there’s an apocalypse
I just wanna taste your cherry chapstick
Your cherry chapstick
On a blustery Wednesday in March, ceramacist Gustavo Tav ares Barceloni and I sat in one of his Allston restaurants..over spinach.. and talked about using art to mold the world...uthor Viet Thanh Nguyen took a detour on the way to his Harvard
During boxes LAMBs their
Brown LAMB: writer and up-and-coming
Robert Pinsky: have anybody place around the anxiety, fashion students, is trying to be
Anuja LAMB: are wondering
Mr. Pinsky: on the Jersey was kind of I got D’s and [But] I had this most literary was me, a drummer, most important play weddings summer. And
Shepherd Inteview: Author - Robert Pinsky
Interviewers - BAA LAMBs
During an interview at Robert Pinsky’s B.U. office, brimming with boxes and books, the nation’s beloved bard bedazzled the BAA LAMBs with favorite verses, an impromptu poetry exercise, and to delight, even a few jokes.
LAMB: Robert, this is beautiful, having you as a professional and someone who’s been in the field for so long talk with our up-and-coming writers.
Pinsky: You three should appreciate that, for me, it’s a pleasure and an honor to anybody your age interested in what I do. Sometimes when you’re 16 years old or any around there, you don’t realize that for people your grandparents age and older, there’s “Will these kids take anything I do seriously?”. And I didn’t know there’d be two students, but I was very careful to dress like an old man who’s not trying too hard, but be in control of it. (The LAMBs laugh lightheartedly.
LAMB: Thank you. Well, the first question is, as high school students, we wondering what your high school years were like.
Pinsky: My high school years were, in a way, in the spirit of BAA. I wish BAA existed Jersey Shore, where I was a student. Music kept me in school. I think everyone knew I bright verbally. I had moments where I’d do well in Spanish and plane geometry. and F’s in citizenship.
this one identity socially. I was voted most musical boy in my graduating class, not literary boy. Lunchtime, people would dance to sort of early rock and roll tunes. And it drummer, and a piano player. So, my breath was the melody. And that was the important element for me in high school. So, I could play the saxophone well enough to weddings and bah mitzvahs. We played at the beach club. We played Latin stuff in the And that’s who I was.
Thea LAMB: When did you know you wanted to be a writer?
Pinsky: I can’t remember how old I was when I read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass repeatedly. I mean, I would finish the book and then I would go back to page one. Something about the Lewis Carroll imagination. For me, it was like watching a movie or having a dream. I wasn’t thinking about the words.
It was like a movie in my mind. It was like three sentences, maybe four sentences. I could put my hand over it. And it was like being cheated. And how did he do that? I had this vivid story that interested me and moved me. It was just words, not that many words.
So, maybe that was a moment. Oh, I didn’t think then, I must be a writer. But it was understanding partly that, as a reader, you are collaborating with the writer. Lewis Carroll writing that scene knew I would start making it up, as would anybody who could read. So, reading is a form of writing, in that sense. You’re helping create it as you read. And then I spent my whole life doing that.
And as a teacher, in a way, that’s where I spent all my time here [at Boston University], in Berkeley, California, just teaching people that reading is writing. And of course, writing is reading. And I’ll use that moment, which is a true moment, as embodying that.
Thea LAMB: What is your process for creating your poems?
Pinsky: I try to compose something with my mouth. Name an object. [One of the LAMBs says, “A ball.”] A ball? So, if I want to get a ball into the form, I’ll take the consonants in reverse order. Say, I’ll go into the lab of my imagination. And there’s no law about how I’m supposed to do it. And that’s a little corny, but it’s getting started. In the lawless experiments performed in the lab of the human ear, blah, blah, blah, blah.
So it’s like noodling at a piano. I haven’t done anything great yet, but I’m doing something. And what are the other words that are the cliches to do with balls? Bouncing. So, insubstantial. I’m trying to use the same consonants:
In the substantive revolution over currents like the bouncing ball in the old fashioned TV shows that helped the audience all sing together. That ball is corny and helpful. Who isn’t? So I, too, Professor Pinsky, am corny and helpful. And I’m having a ball trying to improvise on that.
So there’s a real life sort of B minus example of what [my process] is.
Magaly LAMB: As the US poet laureate from 1997 to 2000, you promoted poetry as an important public resource. What is it about poetry that you believe makes it vital for communities or humanity?
Pinsky: I think it’s vital for people. I don’t know if it’s vital for communities or not.
You used the word promoted. I probably wouldn’t use it because, for me, it’s a kind of word, advertising products. And I’m of two minds even about the idea of poet laureate, making it official. The rebellious high school kid in me still says, “Who says the government should say who can be an important poet?”
The importance for poetry, to me, is related to my answer in which I spoke about Alice in Wonderland. We talk about the mass media. They have a mass, medium is what comes between an artist and a thinker and the audience. Artists call it medium...Is the medium tempera? Is it oil? Is it metal? Is it soap? What is the media? And we say the media are the medium of print, the medium of the web, the medium of film, the medium of video. They are rightly called mass media. It’s not necessarily a negative or bad thing. There can be a great work of art that is a TV show that is on a mass scale. I believe that the medium for poetry is the breath and voice of any reader.
l-r: Ms. Brown (faculty), Magaly Oliveira Rodriguez (sophomore), Robert Pinsky, Anuja Chattergoon (sophomore), Theadora Rodine (junior)
If you imagine saying aloud, “Further in Summer than the Birds/Pathetic from the grass/A minor Nation celebrates/Its unobtrusive Mass.” Your voice would be, as my voice just was, the medium for Emily Dickinson. Emily Dickinson has been dead for more than 100 years. Her medium is not an actress playing her in a film. It’s not a classroom where it’s taught. Her medium is the individual reader. I give these performances. I love giving them. My most important medium is my hope that maybe, maybe 100 years after I die, somebody will say something I wrote the way I just said something Emily Dickinson wrote.
And the power of poetry is that it is on a human scale. Inherently, in the nature of the medium, it respects the dignity of the individual. The power of poetry is that it is on a human scale, like the human voice. And mass media, the mass of information that creates chat GPT or something, needs massive, massive scale. “Further in Summer than the Birds, Pathetic from the Grass,” is in the scale of one voice. She did it with her voice. I’m giving it to you with my voice. So, the power of poetry, in my opinion, is its human scale.
And that makes it, in some ways, the queen of all the arts. The most intimate, the most deeply personal. The poetry gets into you, becomes a part of you, recognizes your importance.
A crowd gathers at Center for the Arts at Castle Hill on the Cape to enjoy the symbiotic sounds of PoemJazz by Robert Pinsky, Stan Strickland, Catherine Bent and Jeff Jones.
Anuja LAMB: Ideally, how often or when and how would you like to see the everyday person engaging in poetry?
Pinsky: Possibly the best way of all, is that you have something by memory. I had that one stanza of Emily Dickinson by memory. I think it helps you be a better writer if you get good sentences the way you have a tune. You don’t exactly memorize it; you just know it.
And I have a two-line poem I love, also 19th century, by Landor. “On love, on grief, on every human thing, time sprinkles Lethe’s water with his wing.” You don’t have to know what Lethe’s water is; it’s whatever time sprinkles on everything. “On love, on grief, on every human thing, time sprinkles Lethe’s water with his wing.” I think that sounds good and you can begin to understand why it sounds good. It’s physical. It’s bodily. Poetry is a body art.
As much as dance, in a way more than dance, poetry is the most bodily art. Three times at the beginning of that, I put my upper teeth on my lower lip. “On love, on grief, on every human thing,”. Three times at the end I push my lips, “Time sprinkles Lethe’s water with his wing.” When Walter Savage Landor composed that poem, he wasn’t thinking about the teeth or the lip. He had been making poems for decades. So, he knew how to make it toward somebody totally unlike him. He was a rich, learned Englishman in the 19th century. He made it so that a not so rich Jewish, white American, almost 200 years later, would feel it sounds good. It feels good to say, “On love,on grief, on every human thing”.
So the ideal way is it’s in your head. You never know what it might look like. Like music, like tunes. Some people hum to themselves. I try to be generous about different media, including the web. So, if you go to favoritepoem.org, you’ll see the construction worker reading a Walt Whitman and say why likes it. You’ll see a Cambodian American high school student in San Jose read a Langston Hughes poem and say why she likes it. You’ll see a Jamaican immigrant read a poem by Sylvia Platt, and say why he likes it. So, they’re examples of what I’m talking about. You just let the poem be in you, like a melody.
Anuja LAMB: You said poetry is a vocal art, not just a literary one. Do you have any advice for writers that may struggle with public speaking and sharing their work in front of others?
Pinsky: Find poems you love, that you didn’t write, and get them by heart and if you can recite a poem by Gwendolyn Brooks or Ben Johnson or John Keats or Robert Hayden or Charles Baudelaire or Pablo Neruda. Get one by heart. It’s good for you. And when you’re in public, maybe you can work in saying at least a few lines by Pablo Neruda. It’ll give you some confidence. So there’s a poem by Gwendolyn Brooks that I first heard on the website, favoritepoem.org, and then I got it by heart.
So, don’t limit yourself to yourself, to your self-consciousness and your fear of public speaking. Get out of the narrow confines of yourself. Pray, say, “Please, Emily Dickinson, please, Pablo Neruda, help me. I’m afraid of public speaking.” And the great artists will take pity on you, “Let’s reward her. She’s paying attention to us, so we’ll give her her favor back.” That’s what the ancestors did. If you consult them, they will respond to you. So in a three-word answer, consult your ancestors.
Magaly LAMB: You have many accomplishments as a writer. According to our research, you’ve published nine books of poetry, edited numerous more, translated work by Dante and Czesław Miłosz, created the Favorite Poem Project, won several writing awards, and were the first U.S. Poet Laureate to be appointed for three terms. Our magazine’s theme this year is pride over prejudice. So, of all these accomplishments, would you name one or two of which you are most proud and explain why?
Pinsky: There’s a temptation to name the poems that I’m working on, though, they not published yet. I’m thinking most of what I want to do next. And it’s better than my second-rate ball poem, believe me. ( We LAMBs titter, remembering the improv earlier in the interview.)
I published a book recently that I was happy to find a lot of people wrote to me they liked. It’s called Proverbs of Limbo. And I hope that the poems in that book--and I give that copy to BAA [he points to one on a chair]--engage the prejudices of our time to do with identity, sexual identity, ethnic identity, religious identity, racial identity. I hope the poems in that book take an unprejudiced, idiosyncratic, Robert-ish approach to those subjects, that they avoid not only cliche one, but even cliches two and three. I hope I keep thinking about it harder without ever claiming I have it all figured out. It’s from the heart. So I’ll say that about that book.
So, that’s about prejudice. And pride, I’m proud of the poems because I think they’re American
and mixed in a way our country is. So, I’m proud of that.
And in a completely different way, I’m proud that with this slightly fishy title, Poet Laureate, I made those videos at favoritepoem.org. And if you go to its poetry archive, you can see, I read poems on tv for the PBS News Hour about the news. So, that when the stock market went down, I read, Frost’s “Provide, Provide.” When Frank Sinatra died, I read from a translation of Virgil’s eclogue about a famous singer, great singer dying. And favoritepoem.org and the poetry archive there, used the technology of my time, I daresay say our time, in a way that isn’t necessarily where prejudice leads. And I’m proud of that website.
Brown LAMB: For the last one, people often reflect as they retire. I was at your retirement reading in May and wondered what is something you look back on, you can’t help but smile about or appreciate?
Pinsky: That I have made my grandkids laugh. It’s a family that does a lot of joking.
And just yesterday, after this very hot high school graduation, they’re all very worried about Ellen and me. And I didn’t have a hat and, “Robert, you need more water.” That kind of thing. We’re all sitting around. My grandaughter graduate, Hazel, said, grandpa, “Did the heat have an effect on you?” And I said,... “Do say that again?” She said, “Did the heat affect you? I said, “It makes me ask everyone I’m talking to to say whatever they say twice.” So, they all laughed. (As did we LAMBs at this retelling. )
And in the car--my wife always drives--she said to me, “George was worried about you. When you had your head down, your hands on your head” This is my son-in-law, George. And I said, “Yes, the the outward signs of heat fatigue, are very hard to tell from the outward signs of ennui.” She laughed just the way you did. So, I like amusing people I’m with and especially people I love.
LAMBs: Thank you, Mr. Pinsky. We had a ball.
Click here to visit the favoritepoem.org site.
Pride
ghazal
Finuala Nevins sophomore
Some laugh out when I dream too big out side, But I hold my head up, starry- eyed with pride.
I’ve messed up a lot, I won’t pretend, Still I face each day, not hide, in pride.
They wanted me small, quiet, and neat, But I learned to take up space and reside in pride.
I am an artist, with my hands voice and mind, I create. I look upon the work I do with pride.
You can call me an artist, I won’t hide what’s inside. I’m just being me, and I do it with pride. color temperature study in dry pastel |
&
Angela Sierra ! freshman
&
Prejudice
duplex | Sophia Salgado | sophomore
Prejudice is a thing of man’s war
We fight because of our prejudice
Fighting is a result of prejudice In a way, we stand up for ourselves and others
Others, even ourselves, stand in the way Prejudice influences others
Others influence prejudice
Brainwashing the world with their thinking
Washing the world’s brain with new thinking We must fight for equality
Equality is worth fighting for Reveal the truth, restore power
Restoring power after the truth is revealed Prejudice is a thing of man’s war.
Chastelyn Lara
Feliz ! freshman
play | directed by Juanita Rodrigues, faculty | acted by multigrade Theater Majors
I fear my heart may break through my bones then burst through my skin, leaving a bloody mess in its wake.
I fear that my stomach may become too greedy, wanting nothing more than to eat my meaty flesh.
I fear my bones will be next too, shaking so violently that they break free from the form that holds me together.
I fear that my body may be against me, watching and waiting, for me to be at my weakest. wanting nothing more but to be free from the confines of who i am.
I fear many things, but I fear myself the most.
free verse | Aayla Morriseau-Claravall | junior
Self-Portrait
character exploration | Olivia Jamrog | freshman
Thirty-six years, one-hundred and seventy-three cases closed, three-hundred-and-one murderers convicted, cases from the Fritz’s to the Von-Mildenstein’s, these, some of the most infamous and so-called unsolvable cases in Britain, closed, over eight-hundred-thousand words written (on computers, paper, and typewriters, yes; I have been alive for that long) elbow tendonitis, carpal tunnel, and three broken bones — all of this is what I have to show from my career and my life. What is life, really? Are we simply just skins filled with meat existing in the everlasting void that is space and time? What does this all mean, and is there anything outside of this perception? I struggle to understand it. My parents have long passed. I don’t have any tethers or non-transactional ties to this world. I do sometimes long for when I was a child and everything seemed so wonderful and bewildering, but even then I was, well, odd.
As a child, I started speaking only four months out from the womb. My parents told me that I would point to things and say them. I would do it to simple things, such as pointing to my parent leaving, or pointing at the window when I would hear a car pass. To which my mother would respond:
“Oh, well Father just has to leave now, but he will be back soon!” or “That car is just heading to its next destination with haste!”
But I would also point to other things that would make her have to answer more philosophically, like pointing to myself, or to the sun. To both, my mother would respond “Oh, well.. Erm… let's just get you down for your nap!” or “Erm… Are you feeling hungry?”
I just think that I had quite a head on my shoulders, and thought of things on a much larger scale than kids my age. I completed kindergarten at three and a half years old and high school at fourteen. I never had enough money to go to college, so when my ravenous brain ran out of material to learn, I developed a passion for perfection and details and nature, human and otherwise. Everything that I see is judged. I notice everything about it instantly. If an ant crawls in front of my big toe, I instantly notice their urgency. I can tell that if I could hear such things, their nostrils would be hard at work, sniffing as their tiny hair-like legs carry them to their next confectioned victim. This phenomenon is probably what makes me such a great detective, and what has led me to, on paper, a successful and well-lived life. But every day, when I get home from the office, I struggle with what to spend my time with. I always need to be productive. You will never find me watching recreational television or playing videographic-games like the kids these days as I can’t see their value or enjoyment. So, if you remove the fact that I specialize in solving mysteries about people who have met their untimely end, my life is tremendously uninteresting. I never take days off, and I never stop working, as it is the only activity that gives me catharsis. I have had clients tease me about being a “factory”. No joy, just cold productivity. But I am not sure what the difference is between catharsis and happiness. Is there even one? Or is it simply too perplexing and complicated for our simple brains to comprehend?
free verse | Leinad Tineo |senior
Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes ashes, We all fall down.
A simple nursery rhyme a lot of us sang as children. Ring around a rosie
Like rings around Saturn, my favorite planet. When the whole world figured out that we could land on the moon, Millions of kids like me realized that anything was possible. When I looked up into the black sky, little specks of light shining in the distance. Where I tried looking for new stars and planets, That was the moment I wished to be an astronaut. I wanted to see the rings surrounding Saturn for myself. Rings made from destroyed comets and asteroids, Quickly turned into cold metal rings surrounding my wrists, binding them together, as they cut into my skin And they create bruises. as I taste the blood in my mouth after being beaten to a pulp by the people who I thought were supposed to be protecting me.
My pockets, filled with posies. Until I reach into my pocket to show you, And you assume there’s a gun in there and shoot.
Suddenly the sound of kids playing in playground, Turned into sirens.
The words “Get on the ground” stapling in my brain, Like I was getting branded, in the same spot over and over again. That’s what ruined my dream. Instead of growing up an astronaut, I’ll grow up to be a prisoner. From what I’ve heard from other prisoners, I’ll be lucky if I have a window in my jail cell. where you can see the stars. Where I can try to find Saturn again. Ashes, Ashes, Ashes from my ancestors, crowded away in a ship like they were a packet of anchovies, dying off one by one.
Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes ashes, we all fall down.
A simple nursery rhyme a lot of us sang as children. Ring around a rosie. Or rings around Saturn, my favorite planet. When the whole world figured out that we could land on the moon, Millions of kids like me realized that anything was possible. When I looked up into the black sky, little specks of light shining in the distance. Where I tried looking for new stars and planets, That was the moment I wished to be an astronaut. I wanted to see the rings surrounding Saturn for myself. Rings made from destroyed comets and asteroids, that quickly turned into cold metal rings that surround my wrists, binding them together, as they cut into my skin And they create bruises. as I taste the blood in my mouth after being beaten to a pulp by the people who I thought were supposed to be protecting me.
My pockets, filled with posies. Until I reach into my pocket to show you, And you assume there’s a gun in there and shoot.
Suddenly the sound of kids playing in playground, Turned into sirens. The words “Get on the ground” stapling in my brain,
That’s what ruined my dream. Instead of growing up an astronaut, I’ll grow up to be a prisoner.
From what i’ve heard from other prisoners, I’ll be lucky if I have a window in my jail cell. where you can see the stars.
Ashes, Ashes, Ashes from my ancestors, crowded away in a ship like they were a packet of anchovies, dying off one by one. Ashes from my classmates. My friends I thought I’d graduate with, dying off one by one.
Ashes, Ashes, whiplashes, whiplashes, the ones received by slaves, or by the young black Boys and girls who just want to achieve their dreams. Let a student with less melanin than I do the bare minimum and receive praise But when I don’t get the same opportunities
Ashes, Ashes, Oh, were my passions not good enough? Was I supposed to see my world through rose-tinted-glasses? Until my life flashes before my eyes And I’m being incarcerated at the age of 15. An age so young, but when I share my story my experience is shared by millions of people my age And younger.
If I put all those ashes into one pile, every aspiration from every child, each black body, killed for being too “hostile”, each one, their futures so versatile, but that never stopped you from putting us on trial, charging us as adults.
The scent of burnt paper, dead bodies and ruined dreams that comes from this pile sears a permanent smell in our noses. The pile is no longer just a pile, it’s a wall. The wall that separates us from you
3 |linotype | Nick Simmons | junior
Ashes are what you made of me. Ashes are what you made of us Ashes, ashes, We all fall down
“She was perfect, and she was pretty, and I loved her so.”
INT. CLUB - NIGHT
OLIVER turns from the bar, a glass of liquor in hand. Something grabs his attention and he puts down the drink. He looks at something on the stage(off screen). He seems almost put in a trance. Music plays. Stage lights. Music fades out.
OLIVER(V.O.)
There are precious few moments in a man’s life that mean anything. I’ve never had the mind for right place wrong time or vica versa. All I know is that on October third I ended up at the Carolina Club, and for the first in a long time, I felt like there was nowhere - no time, right or wrong.
PAN UP FADE
An inky black sky with a shining moon almost full.
TITLE CARD
The moon goes down and the sun comes up behind hazy clouds.
EXT. UPPER APARTMENT COMPLEX - DAY
Pan down to see the top of a brick apartment complex that stands over a foggy street. A phone rings.
INT. APARTMENT - DAY
Oliver is crumpled, asleep in a chair. Empty bottles. A closet full of clothes - men’s and womens. The phone ringing stops and Oliver’s raises his hand to rub the sleep from his eyes.
OLIVER(V.O)
And just like that it’s gone.
The phone rings again and he picks up.
OLIVER
Charlie,... I know...I’m telling you I’m fine...Those jobs where going belly up if I was there or not.
As Charlie speaks, Oliver stiffens and leans against the wall.
OLIVER(CONT’D)
If Heaven Comes Back
noir | Rye Warner | senior
..So you’re just gonna cut me out?(listening) There’s always a damn choice. And who is this “They”? No one does it like me and you know it, Charlie.(listening) What do you mean take the fall? (Panicked) Give me the name of the place. I just need a few days. I can show you I still got it.
Listening, Oliver’s demeanor seems broken and he leans against the wall.
No I’m still here. Let me write down the address. Tell me the name again? Right... I’ll head over tonight.
Oliver sets down the phone as he tries to recall last night.
OLIVER
When did hush money get so hard to come by?
Reaching into the closet for his shirt, he sees a white dress at the back of the closet. He takes it in his hand, feeling the fabric for a moment, then goes to grab his blazer.
START MONTAGE
OLIVER(V.O)
I don’t remember much of the day after that. Thought a shot might cure the headache but there’s too much on my mind. Must’ve knocked someone or anothers’ head. The Carolina Club. What are the chances? I saw that old performer she liked there last night... What was his name?
Taking the last sips of a labelless bottle, ironing a shirt, putting on a police badge, opening the door, walking outwiping blood from his knuckles with a white hankercheif.
INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT
Oliver stands at his mirror, carefully adjusting his hat.
OLIVER (To Mirror)
It’s really a wonder you were able to keep this place under wraps for so long... Don’t get smart with me. Place like this doesn’t pay the bills without a little something extra. Besides I see booze hounds stumbling out of here every other night... You know how this goes.
The character breaks and he presses his fingers against the glass before curling them into a fist. As he leaves the apartment he searches for his keys and notices the badge. He pauses before taking it off, placing it on the kitchen table.
EXT. CLUB - NIGHT
Oliver stands outside, back to the wall. The barkeep leaves through the front door and Oliver slips in before it closes.
INT. CLUB - NIGHT
Oliver climbs upstairs where faint music can be heard. As he enters the main room of the club there is no one in sight. He finds his glass from last night empty at the bar. He looks up at the stage, remembering. An arm in a tassled white dress dances; the dress sways on the stage. Back to the presentthe stage is empty. Oliver follows the music.
INT. BACKSTAGE - NIGHT
JULIAN stands at a table with rags and cosmetics, wearing that same white dress. Music plays from a record player. Julian is doing a dance when Oliver rounds the corner. Julian turns and jumps in surprise.
OLIVER
Oh, sorry-
JULIAN
(Shaken)
No It’s no trouble. Have you been here long?
OLIVER
No...the door was open and I heard the music.
JULIAN
(Settling, analyzing Oliver)
Sure...Oh I remember you, that boy from the other night. You make a good audience.
Julian turns down the music.
OLIVER
Do you perform here every night?
JULIAN
Nearly these days. I’m just closing up. I wouldn’t mind some company.
Julian stands at a chair, looking back at Oliver who still stands in the doorway.
JULIAN
Well?
OLIVER
Right..
He sits.
JULIAN
What was your name again?
OLIVER
It’s Oliver- You know if the owner’ll be in at all this week?
JULIAN (Hesitantly)
No, hasn’t been in for a while.
Oliver studies Julian, who wipes off some makeup.
OLIVER
You know, I think my wife used to be a big fan.
JULIAN (Glad for a change in topic) Oh? Not anymore?
OLIVER (Shaken)
No, she...
JULIAN (Setting down rag)
Oh. I’m so sorry. Love like that is hard to come by.
OLIVER It is.
They both look away. Oliver looks back first.
OLIVER
So, how does someone get into this line of work.
JULIAN
Once you feel hundreds of eyes on you just as you are, there’s no going back.
OLIVER
I can’t imagine being up there in front of all those people.
JULIAN (eyeing Oliver)
The way I see it, most people are performing all the time. It’s only when they get on stage they become themselves.
Oliver leans back, considering Julian. He takes off his hat and looks at it before speaking.
OLIVER
That’s a funny way of looking at it. Why then? Why the stage?
Julian puts down the rag and thinks.
JULIAN
I suppose people like to be seen.
OLIVER
They never really feel it though do they? Not really.
JULIAN (Thinking)
No, I suppose not...If you’re lucky, maybe once or twice in a lifetime.
They smile sadly at each other.
OLIVER (slightly mocking)
And who is the Julian Eltinge during the day? Off stage?
JULIAN
Not much of anybody anymore. The glory days are over. Let’s not talk of that. Tonight’s good enough for me.
OLIVER
So what do you like to dance to? When it’s just you.
Julian smiles, getting up to put something on as Oliver watches. “Midnight, the Stars and You” starts playing.
JULIAN
This is more of a slow dance.
Julian holds out his arm and beckons Oliver who shakes his head and looks down. A solomn realization.
OLIVER
It’s your club, isn’t it Julian?
JULIAN
Depends who’s asking.
OLIVER
What do you mean by that exactly?
JULIAN
Is it the man who came in yesterday flashing his badge to my bartender, or is it the one who watched me dance?
Arm still extended, Oliver just looks at him, a broken look on his face. A phone rings somewhere in the club.
OLIVER
I should get that.
JULIAN
Song might be over when you get back.
Julian holds out his hand still.
FADE TO BLACK
JULIAN(V.O)
Will I be the girl or you?
OLIVER(V.O)
I guess I’ll be the boy.
JULIAN(V.O)
Fine choice.
The shadow of the two dancing can be seen on the wall. The phone rings again. In a starkly lit room, it goes unanswered. Outside, police sirens can be heard in the distance, getting closer. The sound fades out, fade to a black sky with a full moon as “Heartaches” plays.
OLIVER(V.O)
And just like that, it’s gone.
END
148 | Forage Arts Magazine
modern dance (47:40-51:06) choreographed by Jade Elise Hunte | danced by seniors 148| Forage Arts Magazine
seniors Jade Elise Hunte, Leah Baptista Pires, and Maura Cardoso Goncalves
Untitled |acrylic on canvas | Rimi Mallick
|faculty
personal narrative | Julian Rodriguez | senior
Music has been ever-present in my life. I started studying piano and voice at age six, having expressed a love of music for as long as I can remember. My passion led me to BAA where after some difficult reflection, I chose to specialize in vocal music, and in my sophomore year, despite my anxiety about travel, auditioned for the award-winning spirituals ensemble.
Over the past four years, I have learned so much about my instrument. This wasn’t at all easy my freshman year, after my voice dropped dramatically the summer before school started. What I remember most of all about my first year is that my body shook as I tried to control my new voice when I sang. But what I will remember most as I prepare to graduate is that my time at BAA taught me that the beauty of music allows you to take something that you didn’t create, and make it your own.
I learned this best the summer before my senior year, when I was fortunate to attend the Boston University Tanglewood Institute. There, I read the title of the song I was assigned for my final performance at Tanglewood: “I bought me a cat.” My smile faded as I discovered that I would have to “quack” and “neigh” in front of my colleagues, teachers, mother and strangers. No other song in the program was a children’s song. As I started singing for my first progress check, my classmates started to laugh, an unwelcome development. I stepped off stage, realizing that the song shocked and intimidated me.
Later that week, as I continued practicing “I bought me a cat,” my classmates started singing it back to me, saying that it was their favorite song. Something began to shift inside me. Although I continued to be uncomfortable with singing this song, I understood that the song required me to have fun, and also to make that fun visible for the audience. As the final performance came closer, I started to love the song, because I realized why it was assigned to me. The program director had seen my constant seriousness on stage. Her mission was to push my boundaries, and get me to let go of my fear of judgment. As I stepped on stage for the final performance, I didn’t feel nervous. My priority was to have fun, and get the audience to laugh along with me. Somewhere between the “fiddle-eye-fee” and the “quack,” it hit me. Music had brought me another gift: the ability to constantly challenge and surprise myself.
Over my four years at BAA, my journey as an artist has enriched my life in too many ways to count. It has given me the highlights of my young life. Because of my art, I’ve made friends that I hope to have for a lifetime. I’ve learned the lesson that will carry me forward: that music and my artistic practice can bring me profound calm and make my many anxieties disappear.
| sophomore
digital music | Charlotte Gonzalez
Saldarriaga | sophomore
complementary color painting | Anjelica
Anjelica Familia Encarnacion | freshman
When I was seven I had a doll
A fairy Barbie with big bright wings
I got her for my birthday
She was Perfect and she was Pretty And I loved her so I didn’t yet know the heartbreak
That this doll would cause me Hadn’t yet resented her for it
Because she was Pretty and she was Perfect
And I wasn’t I was Wrong and Bad and No No Good Didn’t feel like a boy
Was violent and too shy I never meant for that Anger to turn onto her I mean she was a gift I loved
Yet that didn’t mean
She didn’t make me want
To rage and rage and rage
At the unfairness of it all
Until I destroyed her
With the fury of my resentment
And took the rest of her beauty with it
I let myself spiral unchecked
In feelings of self-loathing and insecurity
Just so I wouldn’t have to hurt anymore
So I metaphorically carved words
Like Envy and Rage and Misery
Into her plastic body
I cut her hair and tore her clothes
And colored her skin
I wanted her to be just like me
Wrong and Twisted and Blurred
Tried to rend her into
Anymore undesireable shape
My insecurities almost felt as bitter as envy did
And envy would eat up your love
If you let it
by Gabriela Ruiz Herran | junior
As humans, emotions, like love, fear, sadness, and anger are a normal part of our lives. But what happens when a person, a teenager enormously susceptible to social troubles, cannot express and feel those emotions? That is the reality of Yunjae, the teenage protagonist of Almond by Won-Pyung Sohn.
From afar, Yunjae, is like any other teenager. He has a normal family and a normal life. Yet, there is something different about him, his brain. Yunjae has alexithymia, a condition that impairs his ability to identify and express emotions. His cerebral amygdala is the size of an almond.
When Yunjae’s mother and grandmother are victims of a violent attack, his life takes a dramatic turn. He’s alone and must take care of the family library business, facing rejection and isolation, that is, until he meets Gon. Gon is a troublemaker, but Yunjae can’t see that. Gon becomes his friend, and soon Younjae, Gon, and a girl named Dora, who just dreams of running, are in a situation that will challenge everything they have experienced so far in their high school lives.
While the book explores the peculiar and lonely life of Yunjae, self-reflective readers will finish the novel with a greater appreciation of all the connections they have and all the emotions they are capable of feeling and expressing. The book has a simple but compelling message: Humans do not always understand each other perfectly, however, this is not, and should not be an obstacle to a sense of empathy.
I read this book in Spanish, but I am certain that the way this book is written in any language conveys a tenderness that will resonate with readers of all ages from the beginning until the very end.
“There is an almond inside of me, in you too. And in those, you hate and love too. But nobody can feel them. We just know it’s there.
In short, this story is about a monster that meets another monster. One of those monsters is me.”
Demetrius Dumond and Diligent Sankofa | freshmen
“I have never lived.”
video voiceover | Avant Moro Flack | sophomore
You want to talk about greatness, huh? Then let’s talk about Boston.
Because when you speak of champions, you speak our name. You see, in some cities, sports are entertainment. In Boston, it’s bloodline. They’re where we bleed differently. They’re heritage. They’re war cries and lullabies. From Fenway to Foxborough, from Causeway Street to TD Garden, we don’t just watch sports—we live them. We breathe them. And more often than not? We win them.
Let’s start with the Red Sox—once the heartbreakers of generations, now the comeback kings of baseball. We waited 86 years. Eight. Six. Years. The Curse of the Bambino had become a myth older than some countries. But in 2004, we didn’t just break the curse— we obliterated it. Down 0-3 to the Yankees in the ALCS? We came back. First team in MLB history to ever do it. Then we swept the Cardinals and brought home our first World Series since 1918. And if that wasn’t enough? We did it again in 2007. And again in 2013, when the city needed hope after the Marathon bombing, the Sox gave us something to believe in. Again, in 2018, I want to remind the world who runs this town. But it’s not just all about baseball in this town.
Moreover, let’s head down I-95 to Gillette Stadium. The house that Belichick and Brady built. You know the Patriots. Everybody knows the Patriots. Six Super Bowl titles in under two decades. NINE appearances. A dynasty for the ages. And before you talk about cheating or deflating or videotaping, don’t waste your breath because greatness isn’t about perfection. It’s about resilience. About being down 28-3 in the Super Bowl and saying, “Not today.” It’s about going from sixth-round draft pick to GOAT. It’s about rewriting the definition of a franchise from laughingstock to legend. That day, we came back better than ever with our star player, Tom Brady. Not to tell you also that it was his last year with us before he had went to the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
And then, then you’ve got the Celtics. 18 banners hanging from the rafters. EIGHTEEN. Tied for the most in NBA history. Bill Russell, the man who redefined defense and still...holds more rings than fingers. Larry Legend, the definition of blue-collar brilliance. Paul Pierce, Kevin Garnett, Ray Allen—the 2008 crew that brought the title back to Beantown. And now? Jayson Tatum, Jaylen Brown—next-gen stars carrying the torch forward. You don’t just play for the Celtics—you inherit a legacy.
Imma guess you’re still not convinced, huh? Then lace up your skates and glide over to TD Garden. The Bruins. The Big Bad Bruins. We’ve got our share of banners there, too. Bobby Orr flying through the air in ‘70. Ray Bourque finally hoisting the Cup— even if it wasn’t in black and gold, the city felt it. Then 2011, Vancouver never saw it coming. Tim Thomas stood on his head, and we brought Lord Stanley’s Cup back where it belongs. Because in Boston, we finish what we start.
And beyond the trophies, beyond the numbers—it’s the soul of this city that makes us champions. It’s the kid wearing a Nomar jersey in Little League. The dad who re
members watching Havlicek steal the ball. The grandmother, who still curses Buckner but cheers louder than anyone. It’s duck boats rolling down Boylston Street, confetti falling like New England snow. It’s that unspoken bond between the fan and the team, the city and the game. We don’t cheer because we want to. We cheer because we have to. Because it’s in our DNA. Because in Boston, sports aren’t a pastime, they’re a promise. A promise that no matter the odds, no matter the score, we never back down.
We are Boston, City of Champions
film | Nate Owens | senior
(1:33:55-1:39:55) | Nate Owens | senior
‘‘
Alright, good afternoon everybody. For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Nate Owen and I’m a senior film major here at the Boston Arts Academy.
To start off, I’d like to thank everyone in attendance for showing up to this event and I’d like to reflect on these four incredible years that we spent together as community. What truly astonished me is that Mr. Vasquez was right all along; it really did go by so fast.
I still remember that old brick building over on Fields Corner back in 2021, all alone, scared out my mind, and surrounded by all these strangers who I assumed wouldn’t understand me and where I was coming from. But four years later, all those strangers that I was skeptical of at first are now friends of mine that I will never forget the rest of my life.
And while I might not have gotten the perfect grades required to be nominated as valuatorian or even salutatorian, I’m still incredibly thankful for this opportunity to speak to all you at this ceremony. In fact, I believe it’s outright impossible to measure intelligence solely based on a letter and a number.
Because being smart is about so much more than getting good letters and numbers. It’s about loving yourself and others. It’s about having empathy and compassion.
Passion with Balance
It’s about understanding other people’s perspectives and where in the world they’re coming from. It’s about having an open mind and be willing to do the right thing even when it’s difficult or unpopular.
Now I like to speak personally and have a heart to heart with all you, the BAA community. I learned a lot over these past four years. I think we all have. But the most important thing that I learned in life is that we shouldn’t be afraid to dream big and create change within ourselves, within our community, within the world as a whole.
I also learned that BAA is all about inclusion. This school is unique and that it selects the students solely based on talent, not connections, and certainly not money, but raw artistic talent. I’m proud to have attended this school because it
really taught me that everyone deserves to have their voice heard, everyone deserves to be listened to, and everyone deserves to have a seat at the table.
And I’ll be honest, to this day, I still think it’s a miracle that I just managed to get into this school. Thought for sure I’d failed that
Vision with Integrity
monologue, but that’s A lesson that I’m taking school is all about hope. for a brighter future because this school are the future.
It’s about creativity can make and create change in our personally, it’s about the goofy kid who’s obsessed and outer space, who repeat random phrases room, hate loud noises, foods, and could not look eye, could not only be but admired and respected, and superficial politeness, and authentic kindness.
It’s about the hope in this world, and the can be celebrated rather doesn’t say diversity and know what does. And while this opportunity absolutely phenomenal, for a moment and say exhausting. Getting up for five days in a row for not easy.I spent more time
neither here nor there. taking with me is that this hope. It’s all about hope because the students of future. the hope that make a difference our society. And for me the hope that even that obsessed with geography would talk to himself, phrases and pace around the noises, bright lights, certain look at teachers in the accepted by his peers, respected, not out of shallow politeness, but out of genuine kindness.
hope that we all belong hope that differences rather than feared. If that and respect, then I don’t opportunity has been phenomenal, I’d like to be real that it’s also been very up at six in the morning for four years straight is time stressing about me-
eeting my community service quota than I can even remember. Hell, I’d say I had senioritis since I was a freshman. If any of you can relate to what I just said, remember, that doesn’t mean you’re lazy. That doesn’t mean you’re broken. It just means that you’re human.
It’s more than okay to have one of those days where you just want to lay in bed and do nothing. We have all had days like that, but as we graduate and move on to the next chapters of our lives, don’t let that become everyday.
You see, every single person in this room is like a little flame, ready to become a roaring fire. So whatever you do, don’t let that flame burn out prematurely, and don’t let it fade away before it’s time. After all, it’s about having a passion with balance. But also, keep in mind that life is just like a TV show, so make every episode count.
And before I go, I just want to say one last thing. You were all fantastic.
Community with Social Responsibility Diversity with Respect
Absolutely fantastic. And you know what? So was I. Thank you for listening, everybody. I love y’all.
(15:09-17:02) |
directed by Molly Jo Rivelli ! sung by The Treble All Stars
*|public art installation , video | Ja’Hari Ortega
monologue from Fences | Ngolela Kamanampata | freshman
August Wilson Monologue Competition
2025 ISB Youth Jazz Bass Competition
five jazz selections | Madelena Kozol |sophomore
by Brian Paulding
Extraño una vida
Que nunca he vivido
Extraño mi familia
Que nunca he conocido
Extraño las pumarosas
Que nunca he comido
Extraño los cielos
Que nunca he sentido
Tengo celos de ellos
Que pueden vivir
Felices con tantas palmas
Y playas ahi
Tengo celos de ellos
Que pueden decir
No vengas aqui
No hay nada para ti
Mi Isla Te Extraño
Pero las montañas me llaman
Y La paz me levanta
Y me envuelvo en sus olas
My Island I Miss You free verse | Magaly Olivera Untitled
(en Dos Lenguajes)
You (in Two Languages)
Olivera Rodriguez | sophomore
I miss a life I have never lived
I miss my family I have never known
I miss the rose apples I have never tasted I miss the heavens I have never felt I am jealous of those Who can live
Happily with so many palm trees And beaches there I am jealous of those Who can say Don’t come here
There’s nothing for you
But the mountains call me And peace lifts me And envelopes me in its waves
aromatherapy | Ms. Brown | faculty
aromatherapy
day, in my garden I grow many. Here are few of my favorites: Lavender helps calm and relax,peppermint.can soothe headaches and belly aches, and lemon can lift your spirits.
| Here are few of my favorites: lavender helps calm and relax,peppermint can soothe headaches and bellyaches, and lemon balm can help digestion.
k pop dance ! multigrade
rock (46:15-50:12) | directed by Chris
, faculty| performed by Instrumental
Lee Rodriguez
Instrumental Majors | multigrade
spiritual |directed by
Michael Bradley, faculty
| sung by The Spirituals* | multigrade
Class Vice
Interviewer
Sophia the first in the prestigious prepare you?
Leah: So, I was coming worked choreographed And then aspect of dances and In a month my God; texting me know Young also, I’m
Sophia of dance
Shepherd Interview Shepherd Inteview:
Vice President & Valedictorian - Leah Pires, senior*
Interviewer - Sophia Salgado, sophomore LAMB
Sophia LAMB: Ok, Leah, we’re going to start with a big one. You are first BAA student in the school’s 27-year history to win an award prestigious National Young Arts Competition. How did you prepare for that competition and what does this distinction mean to So, Mr. McLaughlin told me about Young Arts during the summertime when coming back from New York. And I thought, Hmm, I’m gonna do this. So, we together for about a week and we choreographed the modern section. He choreographed and I just kept practicing.
then Levi Marksman, who is a BAA alum, he choreographed the contemporary of it. So, I had Levi and I had Mr. McLaughlin, and we created two different and then we recorded it.
month or two, I heard back that I was selected as a winner. And I was like, “Oh God; this is real!” Then, people who I went to Summer Intensives with were me ”Congrats!” I didn’t really understand what it meant then. But now to Young Arts is such a big deal and to be a winner, it’s a humbling thing, but I’m very proud in a way.
Sophia LAMB: Okay, so for the second question, how did your love dance begin and what have you done to keep it growing?
Leah: It began like when I was around two years old. My sister danced and my cousin, and I would always go to their dance performances. I remember one time in particular. My dad always records things. It was my sister’s recital and I I actually ran on stage, so I ruined the show a little bit. (Leah and Sophia both laugh guiltily at this.) And then my dad and my mom were like, she needs to be in dance. So, that’s where my love was.
I think it was just looking up to my sister, looking up to my cousin, and being like, I want to be in that space. I’ve always had a passion for it. I grew up in that environment. My dad used to bring me to watch Alvin Ailey since I was, maybe, six years old. From that, I always wanted to be in the dance world somehow.
Now, it just continues because being a dance major here and having so many opportunities that BAA gives us in the Dance Department, I can see myself doing great things.
Sophia LAMB: And are you planning to continue dance?
Leah: I’m going to be at the Alvin Ailey School (she beams) and, also, at Fordham University in New York.
Sophia LAMB: That’s really cool. So, for the scholar, you are the valedictorian of the your class, and as you mentioned in your speech, the first valedictorian in your family. Can you share your journey and process to becoming valedictorian?
Leah: Yeah, well, it really started off in elementary school. I know it’s far back, but I was actually told that I can’t be in the same class as the rest of students. I was told I had to be in a special class because my comprehension wasn’t like fully there. I wasn’t reading at a level that the other students were, I wasn’t writing at the level, and I couldn’t understand certain things. That’s what I was told, but I was also in a predominantly white space where I was. I was the only black student in the class. I don’t know so much if that makes a difference, but I think that it did.
I was upset and I would always complain to my dad, “No, I can do it.” So, my dad started buying these books at Staples and it would be the first grade book, second grade book, and third grade book, and it would be like for the whole entire year. I would be in first grade, but my dad, he’d get the second grade one or the third grade
one. And we’d start doing one page of each subject every single night. That was how I would get my comprehension. I would start being higher. I actually was doing better than expected. Eventually, they put me in the class with the rest of the students. And then high school came and I was like, oh, this is my time. I was gonna perform in an arts high school and I’m just gonna do it. I had momentum from that setback; I think that’s really what it was. I thought I just have to keep going, I have to keep pushing.
Sophia LAMB: That’s crazy. When I was in elementary school, my dad actually same thing for me. That’s how I got so into reading and writing because I really loved doing it when I was little.
And so, another question. You gave the keynote address at the Boston Public School’s Valedictorian Luncheon this week. One of your lines was, “ There are three types of people in this world. The ones who want it to happen, the ones who watch it happen, and the ones who make it happen. So I’m asking you, which one will you be?” Why do you think it is especially important for young people to hear that question?
Leah: At school, a lot of people like came up to me and they said that one part in my speech; it really stuck with them. So, that section of my speech was so important because I think so often we can be leaders, but I think a misconception is that the leader has to allow us in the room, or they’re the one that’s always talking. But I know there’re silent leaders all around us that have a vision, that have a voice. And what matters is what you’re doing with your voice, what you’re doing to make a change in the world. It’s bigger than yourself. So, I think asking that question is kind of rhetorical, but it’s making everyone think, “What do you want to do with your life, and how is it going to impact the people around you? What is your legacy?”
Sophia LAMB: You’re inspiring me right now. For global citizen, what are some of the ways you’ve given back to the community that mean the most to you or you’re most proud of?
Leah: I think probably the Cape Verde community service trip that we did last year with BAA. I’m Cape Verdean, so I think that’s why it hit home a little bit more. I actually hadn’t been back to Cape Verde in a really long time.
So, we spent a lot of time with the youth; we were in the classrooms. I think that’s what opened up my mind to understanding this is way bigger than myself. I know I say that a lot now, but I think that moment made me realize there’s so many lives connected to mine in everything that I do. Going there teaching ballet or even talking to them, having conversations. Learning about my culture, too, because I feel like sometimes I’m not in tune with my culture being so Americanized. You lose some of that aspect of tradition. It really showed me that if I can become a leader there and and be a voice for the Cape Verdeans, especially in arts, that’s really going to influence young kids, and show them that they can do it. I think that was the moment. And really, just being a leader in anything that you do is giving back.
Sophia LAMB: So what are your next steps after BAA or like ultimate career goal?
Leah: I’m grateful I’m doing what my younger self and my current self has always dreamed of. I’m going to be in New York City at the Alvin Ailey School, my dream company. I’m getting my BFA in dance. But I’m also going to be on a pre-law track at Fordham University because I love everything law. Humanities actually is the class that really influenced that and sparked, you know, a love for justice. I think that’s my big thing, producing justice in everything, every aspect, even in dance. So, I’m excited.
I’m gonna be on that track, but I’m gonna continue dancing at Alvin Ailey School because I want to be a professional dancer. I want to be in a company, but I also want to be in a predominately black space. I had an option. I could have gone to Juilliard. I could have gone to, you know, USC, Gloria Kauffman School of Dance, but I was like I want to be here. This is where I want to grow.
speech | Leah Baptista-Pires | senior
Istand before you today as the first valedictorian in my family, as a young black woman, born and raised in Boston, as a student educated in Boston Public Schools, and as someone who was once told, ‘You can’t be in that class; your comprehension isn’t there.’ Yeah, that was said to me. And if I’m honest, I believed it for a moment. I let it sit on me, let it cloud my confidence.
And that’s the thing about words, they’re heavy, they plant seeds. And depending on who you are and where you are, they either push you forward or they push you down. But I made a decision. I decided I was going to rise above those words. I was going to outgrow those expectations. I wasn’t just going to catch up, I was going to lead. Six years later, here I am at the top of my class.
And I want to say this loud and clear for anyone who has been made to feel small, unworthy, or invisible. You do not need permission to be excellent. See when people look at black girls, especially in school systems, they often don’t expect us to be the ones holding the mic at graduation. They don’t expect us to be the scholars, the leaders, the artists, the changemakers. Sometimes they don’t even expect us to be in the room. But here I am. And I’m not the only one. We’re all in the room.
Leah, addresses fellow valedictorians and other guests at the BPS Valedictorian Luncheon 2025
And we didn’t get here by accident. We got here by grace, by faith, by the kind of hard work that often goes unseen. We are not the exception. We are the evidence. The evidence is that when you invest in yourself, when you believe in yourself, when you give yourself space to grow, you will bloom.
Class of 2025, let’s talk about what we’ve lived through. We entered high school during a global pandemic. We spent our first year learning through a screen, trying to stay focused while dealing with Wi-Fi issues, family struggles, and the uncertainty of the world around us. And yet, we found a way.
Some of us were grieving. Some of us were working jobs. Some of us were caretakers at 15 years old. But we kept showing up, tired, confused, scared. But we showed up. We were the first high school class of the new era. We were the first of the new normal. We were, and still are,whole. And now we have to decide what kind of leaders will we be.
I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to hold it close. There are three types of people in this world. The ones who want it to happen, the ones who watch it happen, and the ones who make it happen. So I’m asking you, which one will you be? Because we didn’t just survive Zoom school, mental health challenges, social injustices, racial trauma, and academic pressure just to live life on the sidelines. We’re not here to play small. We’re here to lead, to heal, to create, to redefine what success looks like, to show up for those who come after us and say, “I’ve been where you are. You’re going to make it.
You know what helped me make it? My faith in God. It was through God’s grace that I’m standing here today. Because there were so many moments I didn’t feel worthy and so many days I wanted to quit. I would cry and write things down in my notebook. Sometimes my dreams seemed unreachable But I wrote them down anyway. And everytime I wanted to give up, my faith reminded me, this is bigger than you. So if you’re ever down in a season of doubt, ask yourself, “What would happen if I should rise?”
Words are powerful. They shape the way we move, the way we think, the way dream. But guess what ? So is your presence. So never let a negative word or world define who you are.
To my fellow valedictorians, you inspeire me. To my teachers thank you for pusing me. To my family, thank you being my foundation. To Boston Publis Schools and Boston Arts Academy, thank you for investing in Black and Brown students and artists and leaders. Thank you for helping me become who I am today.
To the class of 2025 I want to leave you with this. Your story is still being written and I want you to know you are enough, you are powerful and you are already the change we’ve been waiting for. We didn’t just make it, we made history. Thank you.‘‘
video courtesy of Berklee School of Music:
Class President Speech (39:58-44:45)
Dance Feature (44:46-49:27)
Theater Feature (1:29:53 - 1:33:38)
Visual Arts & Design Feature (1:40:44-1:45:46)
School Song (2:10:24-2:16:50)
202 | Forage Arts Magazine
Notes on Pride
MMIW (p. 13): MMIW is the acronym for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women. According to the National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center, ”The alarming reports of abduction and murder of Native women highlight one of the most devastating issues facing Tribal communities. On some reservations, Native women face murder rates more than ten times the national average. These disappearances and murders are often directly linked to domestic violence, dating violence, sexual assault, stalking, sex trafficking, and longstanding harms impacting Indigenous communities...In response to this ongoing crisis, grassroots movements have grown at the local, regional, national, and international levels to honor the lives of missing and murdered Indigenous women and relatives, and to work toward lasting safety and support. May 5 has been recognized as the National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Relatives, honoring Hanna Harris, a 21-year-old woman from the Northern Cheyenne Tribe who went missing and was later found murdered in 2013.”
“Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Relatives (MMIWR).” National Indigenous Women’s Resource Center (NIWRC), NIWRC, www.niwrc.org/mmiwr-awareness. Accessed 10 June 2025.
Trumpled (p.14): Having just learned what a portmanteau is this semester, we LAMBs are proud to have created our own by combining the words Trump and trample into trumple, meaning the condition or state of being crushed by an action of President Trump.
Transgender Lives Trumpled (p. 14): According to the American Civil Liberties Union, “Beginning in January, the Trump administration issued a series of executive orders that remove protections for trans people. His directives include targeting transgender students, banning trans Americans from military service, and giving federal agencies the green light to openly discriminate against their trans employees. These orders align with the extremist vision of Project 2025, a sweeping right-wing agenda that seeks to dismantle civil rights protections, consolidate presidential power, and dehumanize transgender people.”
Francois, Lisa. “The Human Toll of Trump’s Anti-Trans Crusade: ACLU.” American Civil Liberties Union, ACLU, 3 Apr. 2025, www.aclu.org/news/lgbtq-rights/the-human-toll-of-trumps-anti-trans-crusade#:~:tex t=After%20President%20Donald%20Trump%20issued,over%20their%20patients’%20medical%20needs. Accessed 10 June 2025.
Say Their Name (p. 14): On the skirt are the names of over two-hundred murdered transgendered women, each name handwritten by the artist. In the U.S., transgender people, in general face much higher rates of violent assault than cisgender people. Specifically, “Transgender people (16+) are victimized over four times more often than cisgender people. In 2017-2018, transgender people experienced 86.2 victimizations per 1,000 people compared to 21.7 victimizations per 1,000 people for cisgender people” according to a 2023 UCLA press release.
“Transgender People over Four Times More Likely than Cisgender People to Be Victims of Violent Crime.” Williams Institute School of Law , The Williams Institute, 21 Dec. 2022, williamsinstitute.law.ucla.edu/press/ncvstrans-press-release/. Accessed 10 June 2025.
Pride & Prejudice
Entering BAA (p. 15): As part of the Boston Public School System, in 1998 Boston Arts Academy proudly was establised as “the city’s first full inclusion high school – a place that admits students based solely on arts auditions without regard to prior academic, behavioral, or learning challenges.”
“About.” Boston Arts Academy, Boston Arts Academy , 8 Apr. 2025, bostonartsacademy.org/about/#story.
Nonna’s Bread & Butter (p. 26 ): Ms. Polito proudly shares these recipes which she learned as a young girl by helping her Nonna (grandma) make them at least once a week for the family.
Head of the Class (p. 23): This sculpture is based on the famous bronze and terracota sculptures created by artists of the Ile-Ife Kingdom in Nigeria. During the early 20th century, Leo Froebenius, a German anthropologist, came upon the sculptures in his expeditions. “Despite his admiration for these sculptures, Frobenius could not accept that they had been made by Africans. His racism led him to concoct a ludicrous theory that survivors from the legendary Greek island of Atlantis brought their Greek civilization to Africa”
Stuffed Dolls (p. 32): Ms. Polito and her sophomore Fashion Sewcity students proudly make these dolls to donate to children with cancer at Boston Children’s Hospital.
Notes on Pride &
Time (p. 42): This year, alumnus Kyre Ambrose’s life was tragically ended at nineteen years old. To honor Kyrie and his passion for dance, “Boston Arts Academy Foundation, with the Ambrose Family, is pleased to share The Legacy of Kyre Fund, a new scholarship for students of Boston Arts Academy pursuing a BFA in Dance in their college careers. We are proud to honor Kyre Ambrose, BAA ‘23’s extraordinary artistry and the impact that he made on his community.”
“The Legacy of Kyre Fund.” Boston Arts Academy, Boston Arts Academy Foundation , 5 Mar. 2025, bostonart sacademy.org/foundation/the-legacy-of-kyre-fund/.
Known Rivers(p. 51): Public health researcher, Shervin Assari, found that, “For black men in the U.S., racism is a daily experience that harms their health and leads to chronic disease and poor health” and “while racism harms many groups of people, black men are paying the highest cost.”
“Racism Causes Life-Threatening Conditions for Black Men Every Day.” Giving Compass, Giving Compass Network, 3 Dec. 2021, givingcompass.org/article/racism-causes-life-threatening-conditions-for-black-men-every-day.
Women Composers Recital (pp. 56-57): Music faculty member, Molly Jo Rivelli, who produced and performed in the Women Composers Recital explained during the show, “Patricia Caicedo is the woman who inspired this whole project of Women Latina Composers. She has worked hard to compile all of these pieces that have been lost and unknown for decades...She has said these pieces need to be out in the world and she compiled them into two volumes of beautiful works. I believe they came out about four years ago, so this is new. I found them by searching online and it’s become a huge wave of energy around this project” and she continued proudly, “I think tha we are the first high school to take on these songs...I wrote to her over the summer and showewed her some of the videos... She was so excited, so just know that she knows we’re doing this. She lives in Brazil, but she does come to the United States and I’m hoping to bring her here the next time she’s here in the Boston area.”
A People’s History of Allston (p. 63): “In this community-generated project, Barceloni represents a snapshot of people and their collective power through ceramic art. Over the last year, Barceloni listened as neighbors shared their stories about the challenges and joys of life in Allston, discussed ways to take action on local issues, and guided them to stamp clay slabs as a record of their commitment and concerns.” Listen to the interviews at https://edportal.harvard. edu/peoples-history-allston
“A People’s History of Allston.” Harvard Ed Portal, The President and Fellows at Harvard College, edportal.harvard. edu/peoples-history-allston. Accessed 10 June 2025.
Prejudice cont’d
Grandma Effie’s Elixir (p. 68): Before there was CVS pharmarcy, there was Grandma Effie, at least that’s how my grandmother, Eloise, spoke about my great-great grandmother. Grandma Effie was the community healer in her North Carolina hometown. My grandmother would give us a tablespoon of cod liver oil every morning to ward off sickness. However, if we did catch a cold, she’d make a tea for us with a tablespoon of Grandma Effie’s Elixir and hot water every morning and evening until we got better, which never seemed to take more than four days. I’m proud to carry on this tradition with my family. Grandma Effie took this herself. She lived to be 112 years old.
Edwiana LaMontagne (p. 71): Senior Edwiana LaMontagne earned the distinction of Best Filmmaker at this year’s Boston Arts Academy Film Festival (BAAFF).
Elephant Gun (p. 86): Senior Rye Warner’s film Elephant Gun earned the distrinction of Best Overall Film at this year’s Boston Arts Academy Film Festival (BAAFF).
Joe Turner’s Come and Gone (p. 124): The play’s title is based on a blues song centered on a real historical figure, Joe Turney. “In the late 19th century... Joe Turney became well-known in the South. He was the brother of Pete Turney who was the governor of Tennessee. Joe Turney had the responsibility of taking black prisoners from Memphis to the Tennessee State Penitentiary in Nashville. It is said that Joe would make a habit of distributing some of the prisoners to convict farms along the Mississippi River, where employers paid commissions to obtain laborers. According to Leon F. Litwack in his terrific book Trouble in Mind: Black Southerners in the Age of Jim Crow: ‘Most of the prisoners had been rounded up for minor infractions, often when police raided a craps game set up by an informer; after a perfunctory court appearance, the blacks were removed, usually the same day, and turned over to Turney. He was reputed to have handcuffed eighty prisoners to forty links of chain. When a man turned up missing that night in the community, the word quickly spread, ‘They tell me Joe Turner’s come and gone.’ Family members were left to mourn the missing.”
“Prison Culture “ ‘They Tell Me Joe Turner’s Come and Gone:’ Music, Prison, & the Convict Lease System.” Prison Culture RSS, Prison Culture , 28 Nov. 2010, www.usprisonculture.com/2010/11/28/they-tell-me-joe-turn ers-come-and-gone-music-prison-the-convict-lease-system/.
Forage Submissions, Production &
end
the school yaar Forage Publishing Party 2025 208 | Forage Arts Magazine
Forage is produced annually by us BAAD LAMBs*. Starting in the fall, we call for submissions of original artwork from across the BAA community (i.e., students, families, faculty, staff, and alums). Then, in consultation with arts faculty, our LAMB editorial team selects a body of artistic work that meets our mission-aligned criteria:
208 | Forage Arts Magazine
Forage Arts Magazine
l-r Ms. Brown, Magaly Olivera (sophomore),Aayla Claravall-Morriseau (junior), Asher Doubek (sophomore), Sophia Salgado (sophomore), Anuja Chattergoon (sophomore) and Finuala Nivens (sophomore taking the photo) at our
of
1. diversity of voice, perspective, and media; 2. excellent craftsmanship; and 3. distinctive creativity.
After we edit the pieces, we forage. We forage for themes, stories, and conversations that emerge between them and that will nurture humanity in our school and global community. The collection of pieces is then handed over to a community member who creates a design and layout that best showcases the year’s work.
If you are a current or previous member of the BAA community, we welcome you to submit any of your original artwork for possible publication in a future edition of Forage. Please use this link or qr code.
Colophon
This year’s Forage was designed with Adobe InDesign. The cover title, artwork titles, and page numbers are in Futura PT Bold. Artists’ names are in EB Garamond Bold and attributions and body text are in Futura PT Book.
LAMB Editorial Team
Anuja Chattergoon, fashion
Asher Doubek, studio art
Finuala Nevins, studio art
Magaly Olivera, fashion
Sophia Salgado, music
Teddy Kieber, media entertainment production
Advisor: Ms.Brown, dance
*BAAD stands for Boston Arts Academy Dear and LAMBs stands for Literary Arts Minors and memBers. Our group is a pilot program at BAA. Please click this link if you’d like to find out more.
