Artifex Literary Art Magazine - 2020

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TAROT Artifex

2020

literary art magazine

Artifex

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School 5901 Pine Island Road Parkland, Florida 33076 Phone: 754-322-2250 Fax: 754-322-2280 www.browardschools.com/stonemandouglas litmagmsd@gmail.com Student Enrollment: 3300 School Staff: 240

Tarot Sam Grizelj, 12 Digital Art

TABLE OF CONTENTS PENTACLES

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Photography – Luminous – Augustus Griffith ..................................................................................07 Art – Forest – Mina Dinh .................................................................................................................08 Poetry – Product – Yasmin Gay ........................................................................................................08 Photography – Reflection – Andromeda Smith ................................................................................10 Poetry – A Walk in the Woods – Nikita Nangia.................................................................................11 Poetry – Six Feet Under – Charlie Shebes ........................................................................................12 Art – Pill – Justin Richards...............................................................................................................12 Poetry – The Kingdom of Undying Flowers – Ashley Blanchard.......................................................14 Art – Bloom – Mina Dinh.................................................................................................................15 Prose – Through the Thicket – Jacob Hunter...................................................................................16 Photography – Persistence – Andromeda Smith...............................................................................16 Poetry – The Devil – Morgan Stuczynski..........................................................................................18 Art – Snake – Justin Richard ...........................................................................................................19 Art – You are as Good as Everyone, but not Better Than Anyone – Monique Miquel ......................20 Poetry – Swords – Caspen Becher....................................................................................................20

WANDS

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Art – Creation – Anna Bayuk .........................................................................................................22 Photography – Unity – Sam Grizelj................................................................................................24 Poetry – I Couldn’t Wait – Hope Haddad .......................................................................................25 Poetry – Girl Power – Hope Haddad ..............................................................................................26 Art – Medusa – Grainne Popen.......................................................................................................27 Photography – High Five – Mina Dinh...........................................................................................28 Poetry – Bright Spirit – Kaitlyn Puller............................................................................................29 Poetry – Beast Cave – Sam Grizelj .................................................................................................30 Art – Don’t Let Others Intimidate You – Monique Miquel ..............................................................31 Photography – A Galaxy Walkway – Darian Williams....................................................................32 Poetry – With Fear Comes Fire – Sydney Lieberman .....................................................................33 Poetry – Imposter – Yasmin Gay ....................................................................................................34 Photography – Object – Sam Grizelj ..............................................................................................34 Prose – Beyond – Sam Grizelj .......................................................................................................36 Photography – No One – Darian Williams .....................................................................................37

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SWORDS

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Art – Just a Trim – Krystina Masihy ....................................................................................................... 39 Poetry – Get Well Soon – Payton Price................................................................................................... 40 Art – Double Edged – Hailey Jacobsen .................................................................................................. 41 Art – Silent Beauty – Emily Knox........................................................................................................... 42 Poetry – Moss on the Mirror – Madeleine Fair ....................................................................................... 43 Poetry – Ace of Hearts – Lana Licari ...................................................................................................... 44 Art – Winter’s Grey – Kylee Wilson ........................................................................................................ 45 Poetry – Letikiros – Andromeda Smith .................................................................................................. 46 Art – Conformity – Krystina Masihy ...................................................................................................... 47 Art – Spontaneous Combustion – Madelyn Wilson ................................................................................ 48 Poetry – Moths – Anna Bayuk................................................................................................................ 49 Poetry – Lost Lights – Caspen Becher..................................................................................................... 50 Art – Outer Space – Hailey Jacobsen ..................................................................................................... 51 Poetry – Defeat My Blindness – Matthew Roa........................................................................................ 52 Photography – Blind – Mina Dinh.......................................................................................................... 53

CUPS

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Photography – Indecision – Mina Dinh.................................................................................................. 54 Poetry – Love – Nikki Scotto.................................................................................................................. 56 Photography – Found – Amelia Sampson............................................................................................... 57 Poetry – Ode to the Girl with Bruised Knees – Yasmin Gay.................................................................... 58 Art – Demin Demeanor – Krystina Masihy............................................................................................. 59 Poetry – Victim – Nikki Scotto ............................................................................................................... 60 Art – Through the Leaves – Leah Ronkin ............................................................................................... 61 Poetry – Lost – Jiselle Caminero ............................................................................................................ 62 Photography – The Old Car – Madelyn Wilson ..................................................................................... 63 Art – Beyond: Clio – Vanessa Lopez-Vanegas ......................................................................................... 64 Poetry – The Dreamer Who Never Slept – Reese Lansman..................................................................... 65 Poetry – Prosopagnosia – Marisol Martinez ........................................................................................... 66 Art – Self Portrait – Monique Miquel ..................................................................................................... 67 Photography – Away in the Woods – Amelia Sampson .......................................................................... 68 Poetry – With You – Catherine Voit........................................................................................................ 69

FEATURED ARTISTS

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Featured Photographer – Mina Dinh .................................................................................................... 70 Featured Writer – Yasmin Gay ............................................................................................................... 72 Featured Artist – Justin Richard ............................................................................................................ 74

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TAROT

Pick a card, any card. Go ahead. They don’t bite.

Tarot is merely a deck of cards. Tarot is a crystal ball. Tarot is a mirror–no, tarot is a magnifying glass. Tarot is a 78-card deck divided into major and minor arcana. The journey in the tarot deck is much like any student’s journey through high school: it follows a Fool as he learns about the world around him and his place in it. The minor arcana in tarot is divided into four suits, just like any old deck of cards would be. Except rather than diamonds, spades, clubs, and hearts, the four suits of tarot are pentacles, wands, swords, and cups.

Pentacles are the world around; to look inwards, you must first look outwards. Pentacles define your circumstances, but do not trick yourself into believing they are unchangeable. They are your lunch money, your classroom, the contents of your backpack.

Wands are the fire within. They’re what pushes you forward, what keeps you cramming for that test, what makes you stay up half the night because you can’t sleep until you finish just one more thing. They’re energy and passion, which can be just as magical as the suit’s name suggests.

Swords are what you think, what you say, and what you do. They’re the images flashing in your mind or the words echoing in your head as you read this very page. They slice up life into decisions to be made, and cut your path right down the middle. When you hold this suit in your hand, you’re exercising agency over your destiny.

Cups are filled with the ever-fickle parts of humanity that are hardest to pin down. Your feelings, your impulses, and your creativity are all liquids, and this suit lays them out to be seen clearly. Cups can guide your path more than anything else sometimes. After all, the heart wants what it wants.

These four suits explore different aspects of what make us human. The art in each section does exactly the same. Tarot, much like art, can predict our future just as well as it can predict our past. At the heart of it all is the self, and the ways we explore it. Tarot is a crystal ball, in that you so often look at it and see the thing you most expected and least wanted to see: your own face, staring back at you. The artists in this book have each seen their own faces, and chose to share some portion of that knowledge with you, dear reader.

So pick a card, any card. Choose wisely.

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PENTACLES Material Possessions

pentacles are the world around they’re money, body, material strife if in a reading these fickle coins are found you best turn your eyes to your external life

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Luminous Augustus Griffith, 12 Photography

Product 08

These cards before me have rewritten my history Sealed my fate It's over Now I am the product of playing cards playing with my soul Never to live as my own Pentacles will deliver me to condemnation As my worldly possessions begin to possess me Coming to life and taking mine Clawing at my skin and my eyes Morphing from brown to green to empty Peeling me open layer by layer like I was Gaia

Forest Mina Dinh, 9 Mixed media

I am the product of my own desire The jester of time and destiny Kronos laughing as Purusho twists the stings supporting my marionette corpse Pulling and pushing me wherever they please They are Pain Almighty in all their glory Below them I stand surrounded by my own devices and skeletons I am now the product of my own mistakes

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A Walk in the Woods Along a wooded, lonely forest trail I went for a walk, on a golden day of fall With leaves of brown and yellow and a wooden rail I stopped and marveled at the splendor of it all I stopped to rest, hoping for a spell Beneath a maple tree so old With crimson leaves of love that fell And many untold stories to be told Words linger in the autumn air Memories whisper in my mind Fill my heart with despair With feelings of sadness undefined Life like a chain is binding me I yearn to fly, be wild and free The tree with stable roots of love divine Gave me a thought, a godly sign The tender touch of the autumn breeze Kissed and caressed my face Beckoning me to face the world Let go of the grief’s embrace The world of nature is a glorious place A place so unbound and free In every single leaf you can see grace If you really take the time to see

Reflection Andromeda Smith, 12 Photography

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He was in search of new ways to get high Out of options, he stooped to new lows If he said he was getting by that’d be a lie That’s why he looks for new ways to get high everywhere he goes

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It hurts to think and he doesn’t like pain A lot on his mind but nothing in his brain With little to lose and less to gain He’d do anything he can to just feel sane

Pill Justin Richard, 12 Colored pencil on paper

The light in the end will stay in a haze If only he’d stuck to his old ways He’ll stop soon because it’s just a phase Too little too late, nothing good stays To get what he wants is to cut all ties Avoiding what he needs with no reason why What made him feel alive would be his demise Now he’s six feet under from reaching new highs

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The Kingdom of Undying Flowers The crunchy grass crinkles like a plastic bag While delicate leaves flutter down to rest upon it And graceful flowers slowly begin to wilt.

In the distance waves a vibrant flag But its colors are dulled, for it is moonlit The flag is grounded yet its base is atilt Noticing this, a noble rider reaches into his saddlebag He waits for the morning to come when the flag is sunlit And saunters over to the flag, feeling no guilt.

He pulls it out of the ground and plants a new flag And takes a knife to the old, making a slit.

With his newly claimed land there is an empire to be built So he gets to work, heavy logs he drags All it takes is some determination and grit To stitch together a city like a beautiful quilt.

When it’s done, he admires his riches from rags He’s become a king from a misfit And unlike a dying flower, he will not let his kingdom wilt.

Bloom Mina Dinh, 9 Mixed media

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anctuary: Noun; a place of refuge of safety. Just over a ridge, tucked away in a small valley, lies a creek whose water runs thin, the slow trickle runs through the hard clay, blanketed in dead and decaying leaves and wild ferns. Few rays of light are able to penetrate the dense overhead cover of the tall oak’s treeline, that rise up like statues through the cold, shaded soil.

Supposedly there was an old brick road that runs through this gorge, but it’s long gone, a forgotten relic that’s been swallowed up by the sinkhole that the terrain is based around. The carcass of this road dribbles down the hill side in the form of crumbling clay bricks, leading to the place where the people of my town dumped their trash, old furniture, bikes and oil drums litter the surrounding area.

An old rotting leather chair and a green upholstered couch are now home to beer bottles and used up WD40.

Most would look at this overgrown mess and regard it as a dump, but to me it is my sanctuary. Beyond the trash and overgrowth, lies a land for reflection. Where I go to sit and listen to the birds chirp as I think about stress and what I’m doing.

It is almost as if I am in a vigil, I am lucid and unable to move or react, only reflect. I think about life and how it got here and what has been going on in my life. And now, nine hundred and fifteen miles away, I still travel there in my mind just to sit and ponder.

Persistence Andromeda Smith, 12 Photography

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Be careful who you trust, the devil isn’t always what it seems.

Sometimes it comes with high heels and designer purses calling you their best friend.

Facetimes every night and sleep over weekends.

Late night conversations spilling your darkest secrets & biggest fears.

Someone who says they’ll be by your side till the day you die Sometimes it comes with angel eyes but a devilish smirk.

Late night car rides just talking about life.

Sweet good morning kisses and long goodbye hugs.

Sometimes it comes with a bond bound with blood.

The people who are supposed to have your back, Be there for you when you only to make you stronger.

The ones who are there no matter what.

It comes with “I love you” and “I’ll always be here” It comes with “I won’t tell anybody” and “I promise” It comes with “I’m sorry” and “It will never happen again” Sometimes the devil looks like everything you’ve dreamed, But little did you know the dream would end up being a nightmare

Snake Justin Richard, 12 Colored pencil on paper

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Swords Once there was a princess Locked in the high tower o’er yonder hill Bartered like a coin Exchanged the kingdom’s most valuable possession For protection from the unyielding dragon Living in the ruins on yonder hill

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Once there was a princess Weary from tears but hardened cold from lies Climbed down the high tower o’er yonder hill By the tapestries and silken curtains With the long-dead knight’s sword sheathed on back and marched towards a forest of seep Once there was a warrior A mask of leather A shield of bone Who knew a forest like no other Moss grew in her armor And snakes avoided her feet Who walked into the kingdom where the trees ended

Once there was a warrior Where she walked people stopped Wary of a stranger with vines in her hair Flowers on her sword and ribcage for a shield But the birds knew her So the warrior wearing death, wearing life The warrior of rebirth Walked into the throne room and dropped onto her knees Once there was a knight Knelt at the feet of her queen Vowing to protect her so help her soul The queen requested one thing: Bring her what hurt her

You are as Good as Everyone, but not Better Than Anyone Monique Miquel, 12 Colored pencil on paper

Once there was a knight Who traveled through the forest of seep Walked past the dragon o’er yonder hill Into the kingdom who bartered a princess And back She gave the queen her sword Once there was a queen

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Creation Anna Bayuk, 12 Collage

WANDS WANDS

Energy, Motivations, Passion wands are movement, magic, pulsing light they’re passionate and spilling from the soul you wield them when you’re fighting the good fight they spur you on to chase your highest goals

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I Couldn’t Wait Because I couldn’t wait for love, It didn’t wait for me.

Love slipped away, far beyond what I could see.

The sun sinks into the sea, leaving the moon by its lonesome in the sky.

There was a time where love and I found ourselves in an eclipse, but it passed on in a few moments of bliss.

I’m afraid you need an iron grip to catch love.

It doesn’t like to wait.

It either punches you in the face or leaves you miles behind.

And right when you want to grab love by it’s hand and pull it toward you, it always seems out of reach.

But it’s always in your face.

Each corner you turn you’ll find love, and the only way to catch it now is to work for it.

Unity Sam Grizelj, 12 Photography

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Girl Power I f I am silent, I am complacent. When I speak my mind, I am hysterical. I am selfish for having an opinion. There is no winning in a patriarchy. Everything is dictated underneath the scrutiny of the male gaze. It is frustrating when all I want to be is heard. We are not free even though that is what we are raised to think.

We cannot walk down a street at night without looking over our shoulders and holding our breaths until our lungs burst. We may be ‘free’, but there is a girl being forced into a marriage on the other side of the world as we stay silent in our false belief of security. We are not free until we are all free. There is no time to waste, the planet we live on is dying for Christ’s sake. There is too much silence when our voices need to be raised. They need to be raised to the point where the earth cannot take it anymore. It needs to shake with our power if anything is going to be changed, and we need a change.

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Medusa Grainne Popen, 10 Acrylic on paper

Bright Spirit

People always told her as a little girl, “Your spirit is so bright.”

They were almost jealous of her optimism, Her ability to light the room with her presence, Her radiant smile, Her illuminating words, And her bright spirit.

Their awe never dissipated, Even as she grew older.

If anything they grew more envious.

As she grew even older and reached her final moments of life, Her weak body could no longer keep up with her bright spirit.

Even though her skin was cold, And her arms were fragile, Her radiant smile and illuminating words were still there.

As her eyes closed, And as she gave her last breath, Her bright spirit remained unaffected.

Everyone at her funeral could still feel her bright spirit in the room.

“It feels like she’s still here, in spirit.”

It’s because she was, Watching her dearest friends and family honor the bright life she lived, As a bright spirit with no body to resonate in anymore.

High Five Mina Dinh, 9 Photography

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Beast Cave Death stood at the edge of his cave He listened to his broken record sing in the background Watching souls slowly drift away into the sky like fireflies Up, Up, Up, and never to be seen again The souls would become part of the sky Held by the chain of stars that light the path of darkness

But Death stayed Death was left behind and stuck between two realms Both the life before and after Death was the bridge that held the two worlds together Death had continued to hold on He held them together for decades, centuries, life spans upon life spans Death continued to hold on Listening to his broken record But Death was becoming tired Tired of the repetition Tired of the loneliness that lingered in his shadows Tired of the isolation that scratched his at his limbs Tired of the darkness that led him to a bleak future Death was just tired.

Death stared out into the distance, and watched those that got to start a new But the more Death watched, the more Death could barely contain his anger His stomach boiled with fury and his throat screamed with years of suppressed rage Death finally let himself free Death grabbed his broken record and threw it And he watched it shatter against the wall And Death screamed Death cried Death cursed Death fell to his knees as he felt the weight of defeat push on him because he knew the truth Nothing would change Death’s life would continue to be the same So Death sweeped the pieces of the record And put it back together Death allowed the music to roam freely once again But as the days become nights and nights become days Death continued his role through the existence of life And Death listened to his broken record Until the needle was lifted from the machine And Death froze

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And he stared at the rare beauty of a lost soul

Don’t Let Others Intimidate You Monique Miquel, 12 Mixed media

With Fear Comes Fire

It is the monster under the bed Irrational instead of impavid It whispers in my ear everything that could possibly go wrong Like being a bug in the shadow of evil Its evil enchanted tingling embeds itself under my skin until I can shed my burning skin and rise with shining fiery wings

A Galaxy Walkway Darian Williams, 12 Photography

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Imposter I’m sitting on my phone watching girls with coke bottle bodies feed me a dream and I’m eating it up Watching my insecurities melt into my bathroom floor With me and all my rolls melting too along with it I’m letting my desire to be beautiful poison me, but the misery is so sweet There, she stares at me in the mirror Mocking all my flaws and imperfections as though she doesn’t share the same ones She laughs at our scars from my wrists to her hips to my hair As if we don’t carry all these same traits

She shrouds herself in black finding comfort in her own darkness While here I stand in men’s sweatpants and tee so far beneath her Her hand stretches out to meet mine leaving a cracked glass in her wake Each fracture spidering out until I’m trapped in her web The arachnid crawling out to her prey I’m frozen here in her silk And my feet have found a home here in this tile Please save me Suddenly her hand is around my throat And my breath is no longer And my limbs are no longer I am no longer me But just the worse version of her Sitting on my bathroom floor with my phone in hand While she consumes me and morphs me into a bedridden cocoon of blankets and self-pity Maybe I will never be the person I deserve to be And I’ll always be the phantom of the girl I dream of While my reflection consumes the life, I’ve built here on my bathroom floor Object Sam Grizelj, 12 Photography

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I

am beyond. I am the farthest from the ground, past the stars and the Milky Way. I lie deep between the burning suns and rest within the depth of the universe. I am beyond. I reach past the sun for the supernova, pushing through the burning explosives that spark from the center of the enlarged fiery orb.

My arm reaching until my hands can no longer find an object to grab. But I keep reaching, climbing, running until I reach my center. I do not stop with the limits placed by ancient rules and societal standards, I go beyond the structure mentally placed amongst our species. Because unlike those trapped within the mindset of society, I climb over the wired gates. I continue to run past limitations until I am far beyond my own.

Because I am beyond. I am beyond my own mental understanding. My soul and mind connect through a path of tangled strings, going in different directions. They are beyond finding the hole that began the chaotic misunderstanding that pushes the two further apart. The two are beyond gaining a connection, splitting me in two. But as I attempt to hold the two together, I feel my body tearing at its limitations. But I am beyond obeying to weakness because within the darkness there is light, and there is the ability to find strength in our weakest moments. And with each muscle I will continue to pull the two back to one and regain whole self again.

I am beyond. Defined as far away, I am far

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from understanding just simple emotions. My psyche has grown beyond comprehending a simple emotion to building a complex road map of actions and painted expressions humans create to transfer such feelings to the surface. I have gone beyond my own human comprehension to understand the way the human race functions with such expression. To laugh, to cry, to scream and shout–all actions defined within my internal dictionary that goes beyond human comprehension. I go beyond to understand them.

I go beyond. I travel upon undiscovered lands and find treasures hidden from the human eye as my pencil travels across the paper. The words I create transfer from my mind into the tips of my fingers as I go beyond my creative limitations. I go beyond the possible and travel deeper into the cave of impossible; because after going down in the darkness, you’ll find an unimaginable beauty.

A beauty beyond imagination that grasps at the inner desire of human nature, pulling them towards a glowing gem.

I am beyond. Beyond more than a simple thought process where neurons travel from one strand to another. Beyond human understanding filled with puzzles of uneven complex pieces.

Beyond a small world of simplicity into a large realm of infinite possibilities. Beyond a tiny star that blinks within the distance because I am the supernova, daring to burst at the touch. Beyond the chains of societal control as I break free from standards. I am beyond.

No One Darian Williams, 12 Photography

Just a Trim Krystina Masihy, 12 Graphite on paper

SWORDS

Thoughts, Words, Actions swords are concise and to the point they represent your thoughts and mind your words which enthuse or disappoint and the actions that you must use logic to find

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Get Well Soon H e forms tornados in my mind, a tsunami in my stomach, and cold winters in my arms and legs. I feel paralyzed in quicksand, sinking slowly until I can’t breathe anymore. He wraps his hands around my neck to hear my gasping for air. He thrives in my tears, dances during my sleepless nights.

He shows himself during the most inconvenient times, when I’m trying to sleep and eat. He embarrasses me in front of people I should feel comfortable with. He loves it when I start to give up on myself.

Give up on the fact that I could ever be normal.

I’ve forgotten what it’s like being away from him. He’s the “dealbreaker” in my relationships, because no one expects to get the both of us when I meet someone new. He’s the reason I leave class crying occasionally. I pray every night that I’m given the strength to push him away, but he

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knows my triggers like the back of his hand. This praying is starting to seem useless. My patience is running low and my self-esteem is dropping.

I decide to stop praying to who knows what above, and start seeking real help from a trained professional. After several therapy appointments and long nights writing in my journal, I’m starting to feel different. Day by day, I open my eyes more.

I remove his hands from my neck. I cut off his legs so he can no longer dance. I lock him in a cage far away from me. I finally am able to say to him, “Anxiety, you no longer have a hold on me.”

I walk outside for the first time without him, and the sky is finally blue. I start to notice the birds singing in the morning. I feel like myself for the first time in four years. He isn’t just something you get rid of overnight. He’s something you work at. You start at his ankles, and make your way up to his head. He seemed strong, but I’ll always be stronger than him.

Double Edged Hailey Jacobsen, 10 Digital art

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Moss on the Mirror Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, That’s what they’ve always told me.

Consistently giving that message the cold shoulder, Just letting my self-love be.

Fretting over my reflection, What I saw staring back was so detrimental.

The girl in the mirror never got any affection, Even though I knew nothing came of being overly self-judgmental.

My constant fear of what people thought when they saw me, Prevented me from seeing my reflection for who she truly is.

She’s a colorful mess so to speak but she’s funny, Understanding that my self-perception is my decision not hers or his.

I grew and bloomed after that moment, Letting the positivity come out of my spirit like white waters overflowing.

I learned to let go and makeover my sense of identity, Leaning into the mirror to let my reflection know I love me.

Silent Beauty Emily Knox, 12 Mixed media

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Ace of Hearts Black, grey, white, and purple

These are the colors I see when I close my eyes These are the colors I bleed with every word against me I see other people’s colors They’re all beautiful But I love mine the most I try to see my colors in others but it’s hard I am only 1% after all I’ve had other colors forced on me but they didn’t stick I love my colors but it gets lonely For many, they’re hard to comprehend But who needs understanding?

I know who I am Isn’t that enough?

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Winter’s Grey Kylee Wilson, 9 Colored pencil on paper

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Letikiros Her heart shatters and she Rages at the expectation Of innocence extinguished A mess

Of tears and blood That pool like those Inland seas of refreshment Now salted dry Her cries are condemned Her hope unfounded, she is A dead miracle Caught in her own conspiracy There is no way out Only a tree and the shards And the sand slowly drying Below her swaying form

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Conformity Krystina Masihy, 12 Mixed media

Moths

that winter, every window shattered and the house filled with moths they swallowed the light and sucked the moisture from the sky before I even noticed; my vision blurred and my knuckles bled as I stared into the middle distance perceiving nothing already used to the mass of wings blackening the air and writhing on the walls took me months to realize they were coming from me crawling out my mouth at night as I woke up every few hours restless and just a little bit emptier the bitter taste of dust coating my tongue and not enough left inside of my lungs for me to fall back into sleep and expect tiny wings to catch me

Spontaneous Combustion Madelyn Wilson, 10 Ink on paper

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Lost Lights I am a child of the stars A dim light on the horizon

I come from a dead world That’s common though, in my direction Know that I have no stars in my eyes Simple iron forged in the heart of dying giants And I have nebulas to make up for.

So of galaxies and antimatter what does one lost light mean?

Constellation changes Textbooks rewritten Old gods prayed to An empty area in the sky A void in the void.

Wish upon your stars Maybe, they’ll humor you

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Solar Sparkle Hailey Jacobsen, 10 Digital art

Defeat My Blindness Give it please, I beg for my innocence This world, oh so cruel, this society, I plead, save my life from their sinfulness, Before it all melts off, my sanity.

I find myself lumped, nightmare incarnate, Get me out, get me out of here, I plead, My world, locked, by this rectangle, this weight, Yet I lift it every day, my eyes bleed.

My brain trembles, my heart aches, I reach out, At first, a void, nothingness, misery, Then, a gentle warmness, I see her pout, “Put that away,” she says, “Not good, you see.”

With your curly hair, round face, eyes pure gold, Your delicate hands removed this blindfold.

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Blind Mina Dinh, 9 Photography

Indecision Mina Dinh, 9 Photography

CUPS WANDS

Energy, Motivations, Passion Emotions, Intuition, Creativity cups are pouring feelings to the brim emotions threatening to spill but creativity has a tale to spin when this suit has a role to fill

Creation Anna Bayuk, 12 Digital Art

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Love

When I first saw you, I could see love yet tension I saw you when you didn’t notice, Your perfectly placed freckles The hint of green in your eyes when the sun hits right There was something about you.

I nitpicked until I figured it out, and still after years I just know There is something different, Something so beautiful about you Perhaps your soft smile Or the sound of your laugh that lingers in my mind All I know now is the happiness Nothing seems to be in black and white now You brought out the color in my life, The bright green in the grass, vibrant yellow when the sun is out, the sky-blue, the deep reds in the roses, and the violet purples from flowers.

You are something different.

You are my love.

You are my person.

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Found Amelia Sampson, 10 Photography

Ode to the Girl With Bruised Knees I wonder what she was doing last Friday night When she fell from the heavens Scraped her knees on the sidewalk Moving too fast for my eyes to behold And yet her reflection couldn’t be clearer Staring at me in my mirror I wonder why her throat is sore Why she’s choking on her words Struggling to find syllables to scream she needs saving Was this what she expected?

As she kneeled on the floor Praying to a man that isn’t God Drowning in cologne and dollar bills Nightly thrills Was this what she expected?

As she kneeled on the floor Praying to a man that isn’t God A man that knows no hymns or psalms A man that can’t command her A man that drips only milk and honey to keep her quiet Complacent

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But never to heal her scratched knees This girl She’s a bandage Marked x across her paellas Keep your throat tight So, your screams don’t let out And no teeth No way out of this room Take a lozenge for the next day Remember the hair ties This hell This girl I wonder why she isn’t beautiful Why she isn’t a flower among phoenixes And why she’s bathing in the glory of a man that isn’t God Writing this in my bed at midnight Watching my knees shift from purple to blue To black to vanishing before my eyes Sinking deeper into this wall The only place where she’s comfortable and finds peace On this floor This tile This pit This girl is a firecracker with a blown fuse Lighter without the fluid God is telling her to blow Job well done Compliments her so she doesn’t feel led astray Reminds her of her father I wonder why she’s biting into that apple Letting the juice drip between her thighs But she chooses to ignore it His snake in her garden Slithering Spitting venom onto her wounds Her bruised knees But she knows it’s just another Friday night

Denim Demeanor Krystina Masihy, 12 Graphite on paper

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Victim

You played victim, so innocent and sweet You played my heart, so bittersweet I believed all your lovely lies Even when you were tongue-tied, Yet instead tables are turned I know what you’ve done, Who you are You are the one who is left to cry, No more tears coming from I Because I am the one who pulled away From the lies and all Alone you are Scared of dark Because I was your light, Now that is gone Do not come again Please for it is safer, Stay away Protect my heart from all costs

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Through the Leaves Leah Ronkin, 12 Digital art

Lost

I’m driving in my car My gas tank is on empty My destination is far I’m feeling kind of heavy

I look into his eyes I tell him what I see A devil in disguise But it’s with you I’d rather be I put my problems on the table It’s weighing on my mind I question if I’m even stable Try to leave my thoughts behind Walking like I’m happy But deep inside I’m broken No sleep, my hair is nappy My brain remains unspoken

The Old Car Madelyn Wilson, 10 Photography

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The Dreamer Who Never Slept As the shadows fall on a sleeping city, All but one begins to sleep.

She can’t help but dream of rainbows and cupcakes.

The little girl doesn’t sleep, For she can only dream.

The sun sets on a sleeping city, But she can’t fall asleep, For she is dreaming of friends and of school.

She has yet to close her eyes, So she dreams through the night.

The stars light up a sleeping city, But the girl refuses to sleep just yet.

She dreams of boys and music, Her dreams continue until the soft hours of dawn, Her dreams as vivid as reality.

The moonlight shines upon a sleeping city, The woman can do all but sleep.

She opens her eyes and dreams of a family and a house, It is impossible to sleep, When one’s dreams are like hers.

An owl hoots in the darkness of a sleeping city, The woman lays awake, unable to sleep.

She lets herself dream of a perfect world for her children.

She wishes her dreams were more than just that, And they keep her awake in awe.

The color fades from a sleeping city, Yet an old woman refrains from sleeping.

Her dreams show her grandchildren and her younger years.

She smiles fondly at her dreams, For they remind her of the old days.

Beyond: Clio Vanessa Lopez-Vanegas, 10 Ink on paper

The sun rises over the rooftops of a sleeping city, All but one begins to wake.

The old woman can’t help but sleep after a long, fulfilled life.

The old woman sleeps, For she is finally tired.

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Prosopagnosia There are days Usually the ones I need to be better When I cannot see faces as they are And in the bathroom mirror, I cannot see what it is that I am My features are just soft undulations of vague expression And I feel less like a person And more like a place where a person once was I know better, of course.

On these days, I go to school all the same And I work around by knowing the voices of people who matter The shapes that shift in and out of being are secondary to the sound waves Rippling through the air, like arms outstretched to reach me Someone says hello, On these days, I can only tell that you are you by your hair And the way that your body fits in your clothes I don’t know how to tell you I don’t recognize you And so I stare At the spaces that must be your eyes for too long And I know that I want to make the person-less space of myself collide with the person I know must be where you are I’ve been getting better with you I’m memorizing photographs in hopes I can recognize the landmarks of your skin I’m learning my way around, little by little But still I have to guess where your lips are Sometimes Most times I very nearly miss But I always find my way home in the end

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Self Portrait Monique Miquel, 12 Colored pencil on paper

With You When you are around I can’t help but smile The troubles of now Kept at bay for awhile When we are together I forget the world Everything is better A perfect mural When you are with me Winter turns to spring Your laughter the seed That blossoms in May When I am with you And don’t know what to say You know what to do To make my day

Away in the Woods Amelia Sampson, 10 Photography

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Insecurity Mina Dinh Bella Mina Dinh

Bella Mina Dinh

Peek-a-Boo Mina Dinh

Weird Sisters Mina Dinh

Jump for Joy Mina Dinh

MINA DINH, 09 Featured Photographer M

ina Dinh is a freshman at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School.

Besides photography, she enjoys kick boxing and playing piano in her free time. She is member of both the Spoken Word Poetry and Speech and Debate clubs. Her star sign is the Scorpio.

“I get a lot of inspiration from these photographers on YouTube called mango street. Their videos taught me a lot of the basics. Most of my more creative ideas come from my art background, a lot the more creative stuff I originally applied to paintings and then translated into art.”

WANDS

Energy, Motivations, Passion

“I don’t really know how it started, but as long as I can remember I always loved taking photos, and gradually began incorporating art into my photography as I grew more and more comfortable with the medium. I guess if you had to put a start to it, it would be taking photos of my friends.”

“I like taking portraits because I think people are probably the most interesting thing to photograph. Most people would much rather look at another human being than a tree, you know? And besides, I love the small interactions that come from photoshoots. You don’t exactly get that sort of connection from nature, or at least I don’t.”

“Trends are overrated. I see a lot of people doing what’s popular at the time and I think that’s just boring.

Expressing yourself through the medium is challenging, but I’d take anything sincere over another bland photo of a building.”

“I really wanted to do prom photography, and so hopefully there will be more chances for that in the future than there were this year. It’s always been a goal to be published more, just get to my work out there for more people to see. I also recently realized that I’m kind of in love with self portrait photography, it lets me be a lot more experimental than with others, which I’ve come to value more and more.”

Creation Anna Bayuk, 12 08, 15, 28, 53, 54 Digital Art

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YASMIN GAY, 10 Featured Writer

Y

asmin Gay is a sophomore at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. She is not only a member of the Spoken Word Poetry Club, but also DECA and HOSA. She participates in multiple athletic extracurriculars as well. She plans on attending FAU High School for her junior year. She loves to watch anime, volunteer with veterans, and hang out with friends in her spare time. Her star sign is the Gemini.

“I think it was around 7th or 8th grade, when I had to write a poem as English assignment or something. I guess I just found it cathartic, working through my emotions through writing. From there I joined westglades creative writing club, and I’ve been using it to tackle the topics in my life ever since.”

WANDS

Energy, Motivations, Passion

“Honestly? Just do it. Even if you think it’s bad, even if you hate it, once it’s out of your head it’s real. You can edit it, tweak it, whatever, but the best part is just getting it out there. You can’t get better if you never try.”

“Hopefully, I still get to write in a professional aspect when I’m older. I’ve been getting more into formal research oriented stuff, but I still want to release writing as an artistic endeavor as an adult.

The creative side of things is something too many people let go of, and I don’t want that to be me.”

Creation Anna Bayuk, 12 Digital Art

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06

08, 34, 58

“Free verse poems, specifically ones that grow from a small idea and turn into something completely new and much bigger by the end. I always love seeing my ideas develop with an unrestrained flow, seeing what things can grow into from what they were originally.”

“Mostly poets and singer-songwriters. Kevin Coval, Toaster come to mind as fantastic spoken word poets, and singer-songwriters would probably be Rina Sawayama and Noname. I really love their lyricism and skill with metaphors. They also all reexamine things that may seem small and show alternative perspectives. I also find their stuff relatable. In particular, I resonate with a lot of Noname’s work about the struggles of being a black woman in America.”

Hidden Justin Richard

Jump For Joy Mina Dinh

Neck Justin Richard

Jump For Joy Mina Dinh Amanda Justin Richard

JUSTINFeatured RICHARD, 12 Artist Justin is a senior at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. In addition to being President of the Art Honor Society, he also serves as treasurer of the Astronomy Club and is a member of DECA. He plans on attending FSU in the fall.

His star sign is the Aries.

“Realism. It’s what I strive for my artwork to be like, a reflection of our own world.

My favorite medium would probably be a little less simple, but I love graphite and charcoal because they’re some of the most versatile mediums to work with. They let me have more control and freedom with my work.”

WANDS

Energy, Motivations, Passion “Although I’m not planning on pursuing

“Art was always something I enjoyed from a young age, but I didn’t really get serious about it until the end of sophomore year when I saw friends enjoying the art classes at our school. I started out by watching a few YouTube videos at first, just to build up some technical skills, and now it’s one of my greatest passions.”

“I take inspiration from all around me.

Whenever I see a beautiful portrait of a family member, for example, I get really tempted to try my luck and draw it, just to see how it goes. There is one specific person who I absolutely love. She’s an artist on Instagram, who I’ve been watching grow for a while now. She always amazes me with her art. It’s all pops of bright color in a realist medium. Achieving realism with a Creation nontraditional style is inspiring to me.”

Anna Bayuk, 12 Digital Art

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a career in art, I do plan on continuing to create artwork as a way to relieve stress and occupy free time.”

“I would highly recommend watching YouTube videos on various techniques because watching someone demonstrate them can be extremely helpful. I’d also say to never give up when something doesn’t come out like how you hoped it would; practice really does make perfect with art.”

12, 19

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Editor’s Note W

e are immensely grateful for all your submissions to Artifex this year and look forward to continue publishing your work in years to come. If your piece did not make into the magazine this year, please do not be deterred from submitting again. Upon taking all submissions into consideration, we had to select a those that fit most closely to our theme, and further narrowed our choices due to the limited number of pages we were able to publish.

Next year, we hope to see artists both new

and old contributing to our publication. If you are interested, remember to submit your work with your name, grade, title, and medium (if applicable) to litmagmsd@gmail.com or deliver any work to Mrs. Falkowski in room 236.

Art continues to be a lasting part of our world, and it is us who continue to contribute to it. The goal of Artifex will always be to allow students to express themselves in the best ways they know how, whether it be art, photography, or writing.

Never stop creating, and we will see you next fall.

Special Thanks A special thanks to the Lawrence A. Sanders Foundation, Inc. for patronizing the arts for the last 12 years and allowing Artifex to display the literary and artistic talent of the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School’s student body. We are infinitely grateful for our adviser Melissa Falkowski,

without whom this issue would never have been completed. We would also like to thank our adoptive mom Stacey Lippel for her support.

Last but certainly not least, a big thanks to all of the remarkably talented students who sent in their amazing art, writing, and photography for this year’s issue of Artifex.

Editorial Policy

A

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rtifex is Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School’s Literary-Art magazine.

The main purpose of Artifex is to provide student writers, artists, and photographers with the opportunity to publish their creative work.

Any student in grades 9-12 may submit writing, art, or photography for consideration.

Submissions are considered blindly, without author or artist names. Editors read all submissions and sort them into “yes,” “no,” and “maybe” folders. Selected writing submissions are “paired” with art submissions based on thematic connection. An effort is made to ensure that pieces from a diverse group of students is included, and not just many submissions from

a few students. The type of art and writing included each year is entirely dependant on the submissions by the student body.

The staff reserves the right to edit grammatical errors and spelling mistakes without the author’s permission. The staff does not edit artwork, but will choose elements to from artwork to use as embelishments to the spread design. Authors, artists, and photographers, retain the copyright of all printed submissions, but grant Artifex the right to publish them initially and use them in the future for any promotional purposes.

The ideas and opinions expressed in Artifex reflect the individual writer’s and artist’s thoughts, as the magazine serves as a forum for student artistic expression.

COLOPHON A

rtifex is published using Adobe InDesign CC 2018, Adobe Photoshop CC 2018 on one Apple Laptop. Artifex was printed by the Sun-Sentinel. Two hundred fifty copies were printed and distributed to the student body (about 3,300) for free.

The cover is printed on 100 pound coated cover paper. The interior is printed on 60 pound offset stock paper. All 80 pages are printed in full color. Copy is set in 10-point Charter Roman font. Literature bylines are set in 24-point SD Stay Classy font. Headlines are set in 70-point Tarot font. Art bylines are set in 9-point Charter

Staff

Editor-in-Chief - Anna Bayuk Design Editor - Sam Grizelj* Submissions Editor - Marisol Martinez Adviser - Melissa Falkowski Content Editors - Maddie Wilson, Yasmin Gay Staff: Mar Acquaroli, Sophia Bly, Alivia Brower, Cailyn Catapano, Thais Guerra, Lybah Haque, Reese Lansman, Anahi Maldonado, Ryland Nance, Nikita Nangia, Rameen Naviwala, Kat Perez, Kaitlyn Puller, Chloe Rogers, Lydia Samuel, Amanda Santo, Nikki Scotto, Lexi Skolnick, Taylor Stevens, Morgan Stuczynski The Artifex editorial board and staff are part of the Creative Writing III-IV Honors courses at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, which are for credit courses.

However, the literary magazine is mostly completed after school as an extracurricular activity.

*All layouts were designed by Sam Grizelj

Roman Font italic. Headlines are set in 70-point Tarot font. Folios are set in 25-point Tarot font.

Artifex is a member of the Columbia Scholastic Press Association, the Florida Scholastic Press Association, the National Scholastic Press Association, and the Southern Interscholastic Press Association. The 2019 Artifex was an NSPA Pacemaker Finalist. It was rated All-Florida by FSPA, First Class with Two Marks of Distinction in Content and Photography, Art, and Graphics

by NSPA, and Gold Medalist with All-Columbian Honors in the Essentials category and the Visual Category by CSPA.