lines lines

Submitted by Laurie Griffith

For a gymnast, lines are not drawn with mercy. Chalk-white, slick, and untouchable, they border the floor, four corners stabbing at the judges, her executioners.

Salute. Green eyes lift. She hurdles, springs singing as she punches the floor. Her fingers swish and flick, drawing the lines higher, sharper. Heaviness has no place here. Be long, be thin, be straight. There isn’t room for the flesh that curves, wobbling with love and age, pushing against a too-small, purple level-eight leotard. Her arms shoot out, back leg arching towards her head. Extend the split. Her hip flexors stretch, cords primed to snap. That is the line: a razor’s edge of raised flesh, moving with the music. The notes alone will fuel her.

Salute. A camera flashes, bringing glimpses of a stomach dipping with a mouthful of breath. Even that is too filling.

I created this painting during my senior year of high school with the intention of displaying it in my future college apartment. Anticipating the initial stress and mental turmoil of the transition to college life, I decided to include several uplifting comments underneath my painting so that every time I look upon it, I can feel the same sense of calmness I felt when writing the messages. The surface painting is an expression of my perception of serene energy - inspired by several of my favorite impressionist painters, stories from my favorite novels, and a tranquil color palette.

Submitted by Mary McCaleb

Irememberbeingsprawledacross thebathroomfloor,forGodknows howlong,thecoolbiteofthetile soothing,butnotenoughforme tobecomfortable “Don’tscratchit,” mymothersaid,asifitweresimple.