WELCOME, WE’RE GLAD YOU’RE HERE. The Pandora Staff of 2020 proudly presents the second edition of Pandora Magazine in over 10 years. We are here to bring back a tradition once cherished, one that brought life to the Centenary College community. We believe that in order for the arts to flourish, they must be celebrated. This magazine features some of our favorite works produced by the Centenary student body, ranging from poetry to digital art. We hope you will find awe, inspiration, and wonder while journeying through the minds of our creators. Enjoy
LOVE, PANDORA MAG
MEET THE CREATORS LILA BEAVERS - Editor-in-Chief @LMB.AESTHETICS
Creating Pandora Magazine has been the highlight of my college career, and I am so proud to present our second edition. I am a senior Comm/Art major and freelance designer.
ABBIE BOUDREAUX - Editor
Hi! I’m Abbie & I’m an English & History double major. This magazine is something that I’m incredibly passionate about and I’m very glad that you all get to enjoy it. (:
MARS RAMSEY - Designer @RISSAFORDAYS @SOCIETYMARSPRESS
Cocou!! :)) I’m a senior French major & COMM minor at Centenary! I’ve loved working with this team to bring you this fantastic magazine. We hope you love it as much as we do!
ANNA JANE STORMS - Junior Editor
@SNOWWHITESTORMS
I’m a sophomore Arts Management major/French minor, tea addict, and skincare fanatic. It was so much fun joining the Pandora staff this year!
GRETA SIMOLKE - Design Intern
@GSIMOLKE1
Hi, I’m Greta Simolke and I am a Communications major with a focus in Film, Television, and Video. It has been an absolute joy working on the magazine, and I am so proud of everyone who submitted their works!
PHOEBE CRAGON - Editor Intern
I’m a sophomore English major, and I’ve had so much fun getting involved with Pandora!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
4 4 4 5 6 7 8 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 20 21 22 23
MUSHROOM BABY BEAR SALT LAMP PERSONA BAD DREAM REFRACTION GROWTH DECAY EPHEMERA FROM A FOXHOLE, KOREA 1952 DESERT MUTE MICHELLE WEATHERMAN RECORDS AROS I AROS II PORTRAITS OF LIGHT MIDDLE CLASS MARITIME THE SUN IS STILL AND DELIVERING A SPEECH A MODERN QUARANTINE THERMOMETERS HELL’S GATE TIME’S STATIC BEAT EVERYTHING GOES THE LAST SNOW DAY AT WESTWOOD DRIVE
24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 38 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 45 46
MY BROTHER’S SCAR CACTUS LOST IN MY HEAD MISSED A SPOT SELF PORTRAIT WINDOWS LADY JUSTICE WEEPS WE MAKE THAT HAPPEN BY VOTING DEKU DDS CABIN IN THE WOODS MAN ON THE STREETS OF ITALY WORKING FOR YOUR MONEY TO THE MOON & BACK BUILDING FERN AVENUE THE TEA PARTY BEFORE THE SUNRISE REALITY CERTAINTY IS A PERFORMANCE THE BURN BARREL BARN PEARS SAINT VALLEY SUR SOMME
MUSHROOM Leah Baer Graphic art Class of 2019
BABY BEAR Leah Baer graphic art Class of 2019
SALT LAMP 6
Leah Baer Graphic art Class of 2019
PERSONA Janette Gary Photography Class of 2023
7
BAD DREAM Lila Beavers Acrylic on canvas Class of 2021
8
REFRACTION When Mom and Dad still made me cover my eyes when mature scenes were on tv, I had my first cigarette. Mom was gone and Dad was passed out. I didn’t think they’d miss this one. I sat on the porch. The sky was bending in the heat. I went back inside for a glass of sweet tea. I winced as the screen door slammed on my way out. The cigarette between my butt and the porch, I felt it squish as I squirmed to get it out. I see a trail of ants. The ants scurry around, looking for a reprieve from the heat. I gave them some of my tea. They drowned in sugar. I put the cigarette between my lips. I’m not allowed to play with lighters. So I look at the bending sky and chew. and chew. and chew. and chew. Arden Miller Class of 2023
9
DECAY 10
Lila Beavers Graphite Class of 2021
EPHEMERA I have never Been privy To the contact Made with one another. Fleeting moments Of brushes and breath And lasting memories Of press and pull. For now, The gaze I lay upon you Success. The hands, Like the mind, Can only stretch Mary Caruthers Class of 2024
11
FROM A FOXHOLE KOREA 1952. I was supposed to graduate in May, and become a man, like my father with his heavy hands. But my birthday came in snowy February, and the Army had me come their way. To a police action... Seoul, Incheon, and Daegu, all names they didn’t teach us in Geography 102 Atlas pages smudged with the paper-cut blood of boys wanting to know where they’ll be dying too. ...in a police action. How dare I meet him there? He with eyes the color of a happy sky and soft lips stained by my name, mashing with his gentle hands to kiss my cheeks. A fucking police action... Society’s rules don’t apply in the place where men can only die. And so, it was my right as a man to spill the blood of the one that killed the best secret that this damned war gave me. Callie Fedd Class of 2022
12
DESERT Remi Miller Photography Class of 2023
13
MUTE MICHELLE Teri Johnson Acrylic on birch panel Class of 2021
14
WEATHERMAN RECORDS Sabrina Handal Digital art Class of 2019
15
AROS I, AROS II
Abbie Boudreaux Photography Class of 2021
16
PORTRAITS OF LIGHT Carlos Romero Photography Class of 2020
17
MIDDLE CLASS MARITIME I grew up middle-class maritime surrounded by the symbols of status and loneliness; a pool in the yard and an island in the kitchen Mom and Dad, there were easier ways to tell me you were drowning. Danny Paulk Class of 2021
18
THE SUN IS STILL AND DELIVERING A SPEECH
Jan Gary 4’’ x 4’’ Mixed media Class of 2023
19
A MODERN QUARANTINE Marissa Ramsey Digital art Class of 2021
THERMOMETERS 20
Nilu D’hungel Watercolor Class of 2020
21
22
HELL’S GATE
Thomas Rodgers Watercolor and pen on paper Class of 2024
BEAT
BrKevin Brown Jr. 15”x19” Acrylic Class of 2023
TIMES STATIC
Thomas Rodgers Watercolor and pen on paper Class of 2024
23
EVERYTHING GOES for trixie & my grandmother
the november wind pierced me through the thick green of my sweater and it terrorized the small gap between my boots and my jeans it reached me even past the strange numbness that had held my body captive for a long while and after a moment, i began to shiver feeling much like how my childhood dog perked up in frigid winter’s breath before her warm springtime death Abbie Boudreaux Class of 2021
24
THE LAST SNOW DAY AT WESTWOOD DRIVE
Anna Jane Storms 11’’x 8.5’’ Watercolor and pen on paper Class of 2023
25
MY BROTHER’S SCAR Small, almost a pockmark, just below the eye, a rock I had thrown in blind rage, so close to having blinded, my brother carries with him the mark of vengeful youth and looks to me, the eldest, my mother’s other son, grinning, younger still, always by twenty-one months. I never told him sorry. We speak softer now, not carrying stones. Brian Flynn Class of 2021
26
CACTUS
Briana Holmes Multimedia Class of 2021
27
LOST IN MY HEAD Lyssa Harmon Pen on paper Class of 2023
MISSED A SPOT
Crystal Burson Photography Class of 2020
29
SELF PORTRAIT
Kyla Bartley Multimedia (paint skins, acrylic, common litter) Class of 2021
30
WINDOWS Nilu D’hungel Acrylic Class of 2020
31
LADY JUSTICE WEEPS
Baylee Barajas Photography Class of 2022
32
WE MAKE THAT HAPPEN BY VOTING
Sarah Duet 8.5x11” Mixed media collage (magazine, photo, scrapbook paper, glue) Class of 2011
33
DEKU
Eli Eide Digital art Class of 2023
34
DDS “Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.” -Stephen King The click of the gun’s hammer drawing back was so quiet he might’ve missed it beneath theconstant racket of the typewriter. But there was no mistaking it. There were no sounds in thisplace that were not his. “I’ve been waiting for you.” “Then I guess you’ve already said your prayers, huh?” He shifted in his chair to look at her full on. She was exactly how he’d always imagined her: long, blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and tall, high bone structure, which was masculine in its sharpness yet undeniably feminine in its relief. She was tall. Dressed in a bandana and cowboy boots, she was like the outlaw girl of his dreams. Silver revolver with filigree etchings he could just make out from where it was pressed between his eyes. “Anna,” he said, voice full of warmth. She sneered. “I’m surprised you even remember me.” “Of course I remember you,” he dared to look away, to her side. “And I remember you, too, Michael. How have you been?” The young man halfway hidden behind her crept out unsurely, one hand on his holster and his spurs clinking together as he shuffled. He had short brown hair and a down tilt to his eyes that made him look permanently sad and unsure. One half of his face dropped downward like he’d had a stroke, but he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.
“What’s it to you, old man?” Michael’s lip curled dangerously, but on his young face it only looked defensive. Anna was the real threat here. “So I guess you two are here to take revenge on me?” “You’re the Creator. You tell me.” He sighed, but not in anger. Only sadness. “Anna, you were always one of my favorites. But you have to understand. The Story called for--” “--For me to die so that my husband could have the development he needed to realize his actions were corrupting everything he loved, yeah, I know! But what about my story?! What about Michael’s?” She lowered the gun and gestured back at the young man with her other hand. “Look at what you’ve done to him! Where’s his story, huh? Where’s our development?” The Creator lowered his head and said nothing for a long time. When he raised it again, he gestured at the far wall, which was covered in an array of landscape paintings which shifted and rearranged themselves constantly. “Upon that wall is everything that I have ever Created. I always meant for you to have a home.” Anna shook her head. “It’s too late. The others are on their way.” Her finger held a signet ring which read, “ Darling ,” in elegant script. Michael had one too. “The Society has spoken. Tonight the Darlings tell our own Story.” She raised her gun, and with it fired the end into the air.
Danny Paulk Class of 2021
35
CABIN IN THE WOODS Leah Baer Photography Class of 2020
36
MAN ON THE STREETS OF ITALY Crouched and folded at the seams, Threads hanging off slow bones You rest on your carpet, White plastic billows like clouds beside you. A duplicate chanced glance And we lock through time and glass. A kiss floats off your ravined mouth, It burns and melts. Stretched lips bridge the gap of humanity. Yet, we still watched the crumble of Morandi. The greyhound barks and bounds, And acrid smoke chokes. His eyes glint like stars, Or maybe like a wolf’s. Alyssa Fyfe Class of 2021
37
38
WORKING FOR YOUR MONEY
Sam Hamilton Acrylic on canvas Class of 2020
39
TO THE MOON AND BACK My father is the man on the moon, distant, but he still knows how to bring a tide. He says he loves me more than the moon and all the stars in the sky. He says he loves me to the moon and back. But he never came back. So his love must be expansive, He must still be looking for love in that deep, dark sea of eternal night. In the waves of darkness, he still knows how to bring a tide, distant. Jerney Harms Class of 2023
40
BUILDING
Jerney Harms Photography Class of 2023
FERN AVENUE The car radio
skitters and splutters and stammers
through a scratched CD from fifth grade in almost-time
with the lurch of my wrecked suspension.
I struggle to sing along. I know but the melody
or maybe earlier
is twisted and wrung to incomprehensibility.
Staccato syllables uncertainly zipper-merge out of I am distracted
my stalling mouth.
imagining the eyes of a pre-teen me on my back.
Also, I am not a good driver. by the stuttering
all the words,
I am distracted
transmission that beats my heart into an echo,
sends me diving down backroads where where the smooth-curving
streets are dotted with potholes
in a comforting familiar cadence, where the warped old songs
I feel safe,
I can sing
without anyone listening,
not even myself.
Phoebe Cragon Class of 2023
41
THE TEA PARTY L.A. Easley Acrylic on canvas Class of 2022
42
BEFORE THE SUNRISE Silently I sat under the swallowed night, covered with leaves from tree branches and bushes. The sky is so dark and gloomy. Stars blaze above my anxious and terrified self. Noises from the distance became clearer and clearer, like crystal. Still, I sat beneath the bush unseen and unshaken as each footstep rose my heart beat, frightened they might hear it. I held my chest as if to silence the beat. Branches on the ground snapped with their every step. Cautiously, they passed by whispering amongst themselves, “ali hehe?” (where is he?) and “wey ingo bukebuke sha” (come slowly). Sweat began dripping down my smooth black face as if I was sitting in a sauna. My feet cringed to the ground and my eyes intently observed the rebels as they passed. Each held a long sharp silver knife that was specially crafted for murder; they looked so sharp that they could slice water in half. As time passed I steadily progressed out of the bushes. I maneuvered through the forest, glimpsing around at every step. Never have I given a thought about how big and scary the jungle was till now. There were chimpanzees screaming, birds chirping, and crickets stridulating as they rubbed the upper and lower parts of their wings together. I ran, ran, and ran till I could breathe no more, still frightened that they may capture me. Ahead, I could see a sort of light and with each sprint that I made it became more vivid; it encouraged me to run
faster. As my left knee rose in the air, my upper body uncontrollably moved forward, I suddenly started tumbling on the ground. Perplexed, I slowly got up only to see an infant and mother lying down. Wounds covered their bodies from limb to face. The knives certainly served their purpose.Once again I could feel my heartbeat pounding harder than before. Not through my ear drums, but within my chest the beat played like drums. Hours later, I arrived at a square brick house; home. I cranked open the door and entered the darkness. I called out to my parents softly, “papa oli hehe” (Dad, where are you? I did what you taught me and I have come back) and “ma ma oli hehe” (Ma ma, where are you? The sun is about to rise and we need to prepare for school). I passed an area in the house where my siblings and I used to sit and tell stories all night before the rebels took them away. Now, all I had were memories. Slowly, I stepped within my parents’ room and my foot suddenly froze midair. My eyes widening and my chest so heavy like I’d been crushed. Tears rolled down my face and more painful memories were added to my pre-existing ones. But morning came as it always did, and the sun’s sunlight dried the tears on my cheeks, and like always, my heart yearned for better days
Shimirimana Eliya Class of 2021
43
REALITY
Aeriel Placeres 36x36” Resin and Acrylic on canvas Class of 2020
44
CERTAINTY IS A PERFORMANCE
Sarah Duet 5x7” Book page, marker Class of 2011
45
BARN
THE BURN BARREL
Remi Miller Photography composite Class of 2023
We congregate around cedar, oak, pipe tobacco, the gristle parts the dogs won’t eat. Dead grandfathers hang in the air like smoke. Today it smells of peppermints and hay, that last Sunday conversation after church. Everyone took their hats off indoors. Everyone, that is, except a few old men who were going grey, or bald, or worse, as was the case with Mr. Al, who once showed up to Sunday dinner, Tuesday morning. I remember his shaking hands – my grandfather speaking tongues at the bedside. Brian Flynn Class of 2021
46
PEARS
Jerney Harms Photography Class of 2023
47
SAINT VALERY SUR SOMME Danny Paulk Photography Class of 2021
48
PANDORA COLORING BOOK 2020
BELL TOWER 49
50
51
52
53
54