BOUNDLESS: Fairytale

fair·y tale /ferē tāl/

A fairytale is the world designed by the creative. A fairytale reveals the truth of our identity; by fabricating our visions, others can see them, too.

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Boundless is made to inspire creators and celebrate the artistic voices at Presentation High School showcasing, art, literature, design, and photography.

Images writing and digital content are the proprty of respective artists and may not be reproduced or copied

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Once upon a 4

time...

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Alumni Jurors.............7-8 Chapter 1 Out in Nature...........8-19 Chapter 2 Tell-Tale Classics.........20-31 Chapter 3 The Day Dreamer..........32-43 Chapter 4 Broken Dreams.........44-61 Chapter 5 Midnight Blues.........62-75 Team Members........76-77

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A lu m ni Ju ro rs :

The following are alumni in creative fields who have donated their time to review our student selections. After reviewing the selected work from each category, they chose the top pieces they felt stood out as exceptional work. These selected works will be denoted by a fairy within the magazine.

A note from the fairies: Look for the three of us next to art

pieces throughout the magazine! They indicate the favorite pieces of our alumni

Ashley Guarino Maag Art has always been important to Ashley, and while attending Presentation (class of ‘12), she found opportunities to appreciate the arts. The foundation established in high school allowed her to continue that passion in college. She graduated from Washington State University with a BA in Creative Writing (class of ‘16). She has since transitioned from creative writing into paid acquisition for a tech company in the Bay Area.

Experiences in her career have allowed for that creativity to continually grow, especially when strategizing paid and social campaigns for apps.

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Danielle Cartier

www.daniellecartier.net/ @danielle_cartier Danielle Cartier is a Visual Artist, Muralist and Professor of Art based in New Jersey. Danielle received her BFA from Sonoma State University and her MFA from the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. She is currently working on multiple large-scale, mixed media paintings and new, grant-funded, community-based public art projects in 2022.

Jazz Wong A graphic designer and photographer studying at Parsons School of Design. Ever since she was a child, Jazz was in love with the arts.

At Presentation, she was a club officer for Tees Of Pres, created posters for the Math and Science colloquium, and assisted with the rebirth of the Art and Literature Magazine, eventually becoming the head director for the next two years. They are currently working towards a BFA in Communication Design.

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Chapter on Amaya Gomez Growing Wings Digital photograph This piece was heavily focused on aiding my skills of using adobe photoshop & other adobe programs. I started by cutting out my subject & adding wings behind her. After I had the wings in the right spot I added her. ilhouette that I had cut out, back in so that the editing was seamless.

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Out

ne:

in Nature

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Hailey Soulia- Nurturing The Body Digital photograph

Emily Soberano- Untitled 10

Digital photograph

Rishika Mallu Overwhelmed Orange Digital photograph

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Jasmine Nguyen Bee Butt Acrylic paint

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Allison Kemp Presentation Fashion Show

Royal Blue Knit Fabric (Tube Dress), White/Cream Polyester with Faux Orange Flowers (Skirt)

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Sanjna Shah i tap on the glass of the aquarium to see the fish tremble is this cruel? maybe. i see myself in them only when they swim from end to end leaving bubbles of panic in their wake. i am the finger pressing to the glass and i am the scales of the fish whipping away the water and i am the eyeballs of the fish bolted to the floor. i put those synthetic plants in the tank last week wishing for the same ignorance as them so i could look at my brain and wonder if it was even real. of course it is- isn’t- was- is. what do they think looking outside their entire universe seeing another one? i know. i am thinking the same thing seeing myself smile in the mirror, oh what i could have. what i will never acquire, what they will never experience. another day, another time i tap on the glass of the aquarium to see the fish tremble.

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Mia Overbo - Stillness Digital photograph

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Tabitha Paigen Fairies Mischievous fairies, quick and sly Confuse you, taunt you, draw the eye You’ll be tricked and turned and lose your way Be careful or dance til the break of day Mushrooms glare, each way is blocked Fairies come and all is lost Now that you can never leave Shrill laughter rings; weren’t those just trees?

Follow follow, sighs the wind Do not trust the fairy kin And if you wish to live again Do not follow, says the wind Troublesome fairies, quick and sly Confuse you, taunt you, draw the eye You’ll be tricked and turned and lose the way Never again to see the break of day

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Mia Overbo Presentation Fashion Show Babydoll Dress

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Tia Colvert Lost in a Fairytale World I was four years old When my father told Me fairy tales of old Snow White awakened by true love’s kiss A detail which I surely did not miss A maiden with hair golden like the sun All alone without anyone Imprisoned inside a tower By an evil witch’s power A beauty who fell in love with a beast And then become queen of the east Stories of a boy who conquered death And never laid to rest Forever on the run Isn’t much fun From the pirate with a hook And his gang of fellow crooks Cinderella lost her glass shoe Which served as a clue For her devoted prince And they’ve been together ever since The fishermen’s greedy wife Who remained dissatisfied with her life She demanded mighty powers From an enchanted flounder Stories from a faraway lands Where genies dwelled among man And a cave filled to the brim with gold As wide a s a corn field, so I’ve been told

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Accessed by the phrase Open Sesame To protect it from enemies Stories of Gods and heroes Who against all odds rose To defeat monsters And perform wonders Stories of true love and sacrifice Which is an unfair price Although I am grown I have not yet thrown Away my love for these childhood stories I find solace in tales of glory Life is tragic So, I live in a fantasy world of magic Yet I must let go I must grow And enter the real world.

Tanisha Prasad- A Ray of Hope Digital photograph

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Chapter tw

20Ella Zhang - Sunset Digital photograph

Tell-Tale Classics

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Michelle Lu Yellow I am stained by jade green mingled with ardent scarlet– a layered yellow rich with stories watered by salty tears and thickened by the hurdles life throws my way. call me yellow.

Allison Kemp Digger the Desert Tortoise Colored pencils

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Varsha Chilukuri Lost in Thought Procreate painting

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Rylie Paul-ROSE Digital photograph

HoaiPhuong First Day Ink and chalk pastel

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Leila Sharafkah- SnowBloom Digital photograph

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Sudikshaa Amar Purple (March 26-April 7)

The daring undertone between determination & liberation.

This compromise between two opposing factions — seems to be a rarity by nature.

Its waves break through the confines of the Higgs field with the celerity unmatched by a charging bullet from a Remington.

Its existence was only revealed to us by the viscous, grotesque mucilage of an obscure mollusk circa 1200 BCE. It was said that approximately twelve thousand bolinus brandaris To fabricate a small swatch of this hue.

Its foul divinity albeit royalty’s crest.

Was the cause of organized assassinations, Social stratification, And military aggression.

Yet its allure Never ceased to capture the attention of all As the ardent moon works relentlessly To move the swaying tides As if it were Sisyphus and his rock Under Zeus’ divine order

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Jillian Horowitz -My True Colors Colored pencil, acrylic, marker, and graphite

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Ella Zhang Character Design: A Chinese Empress Digital Application

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Meera Misra Untitled

Digital photograph

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Meera Misra David Procreate

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Amelie Sedlack- Starry Night

Clay and glaze In ceramics we did a tile project and I made mine based off of “Starry Night” by Vincent Van Gogh

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Xochitl B. Bird on a Wire Digital photograph

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Alexis Higgins- The Pink Night Digital photograph

Chapter th

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The D

ree:

aydreamer

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Cassia Yue-Lonely Eyes Digital photograph 34

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Naina GuptaFalling Gouache, Watercolor

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Alisha S.- Music & Mind Digital photograph

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Shrobana Sengupta- Two Worlds

Acrylic on wood (collage with paper, fake flowers, and jewelry) My Indian ethnicity and American upbringing has always presented me with my two worlds. These two worlds co-exist in me and will continue to do so. It has been a complete blessing to live, grow and thrive in my two worlds and then create ONE world which incorporates the best of the two.

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Mia Romo-Untitled

Acrylic paint on canvas

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Mia Overbo My walk home from school is truly remarkable.

Despite having my driver’s license and a car, I choose to walk home from school every day. This may sound silly, but the special 15 minutes is the only part of my routine when I can simply be.

I hadn’t truly realized its beauty until I walked down the same ordinary sidewalk a dozen times by myself. I always go alone because it makes me quiet – with quietness comes attentiveness – and soon, I began to notice everything: the new garden in my neighbor’s yard, the progression of the blooming and falling of the leaves on the trees, and how the light changes ever so slightly depending on the time of day I leave school. It is so easy to miss the little details – but I pay attention because the little details are my inspiration. As I make my way towards the traffic light, I pass the trumpet vine growing along the fence and study how light indicates form on each leaf. “How would I paint that?” I ask myself.

Those 15 minutes are when I paint the world around me, right inside of my head. With inspiration comes fulfillment – My mood is sunny by the time I make it to the corner. The crossing guard and I say hello and make small talk while we wait for the light to turn green. This little interaction only exists because I began the practice of being present in the moment. These are the moments that should never be missed.

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My walk leaves a trail in my camera roll of all the pretty things I noticed that day. Some photos repeat themselves, sometimes three or four times over the span of walks I have taken months apart. The subtle changes show me how every day is special. For example, I always check the little “mailbox library” at the corner of my street, and I can say with a great level of certainty that I am one of few, if not the only one, who notices which books are new and which have been there for a long time.

This knowledge may sound useless, and in a way, it is – but not entirely. The point remains the same: my walk from school every day builds the habit of observing the world around me, which, in turn, trains me to tune into the present moment and turn ordinary, daily monotony into something exciting, new, and special. To give all of these little things a lot of meaning, all it takes is for somebody to notice—the moment they inspire is the moment they become remarkable.

Joyce YuAir Force of Nature Acrylic on paper

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Mia Overbo -Space, Time, & Energy 42

Acrylic Paint

Shweta Arun- The Floating Planet Digital Photograph The world in my backyard.

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Chapter three:

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Broke

en Dreams

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Sophie - What Is Most Important Watercolor, color pencil

Sanjana LingamBonds with a Need of Bandages Procreate

The theme this piece is covering is “love”. The proof how with the broad concept of love, you can conquer all. These two bruised up hands show resilience

Sophie BagoyeThank You 46

Oil Pastel and digital

Shweta Arun-Identity Digital art

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Isabelle O Hara- Untitled

Digital photograph My goal was to showcase emotion using facial expression and color.

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Nicole Chang The Looking Glass Digital photograph

Your average holographic mirror portal for some good ol’ dimensional travel

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Tanisha Prasad- Trapped Digital photograph

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Naina Gupta Someone Will Remember Us Linocut and ink

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Ella Zhang-Decibel Bleed Yarn, headphone

After I lost my AirPods, I began to notice that many people wear something in their ears. I soon realized that it wasn’t to listen to music, but to avoid connecting and socializing with other people. This epiphany became the inspiration for Decibel Bleed, which criticizes members of our society for voluntarily cutting themselves off from the world to protect themselves from hearing life’s injustices, thus remaining ignorant and self-centered. The black headphones represent isolation, and the two hands made of yarn and mod dodge represent injustice, which are blocked out by the headphones. The yarn hands are red because this color is associated with life, passion, blood and violence. String of yarn drapes beneath the hands to give the impression of blood running and dripping from the fingers that are grabbing each speaker of the headphones.

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Sahar LalehparvarMoney Is the Root of All Evil

Ink, soft pastels, sharpie

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This piece was inspired by the quote “money is the root of all evil”.

Sophia Rosito- Bound Linoleum printing

I have been developing a story for some time now. One of the themes is discrimination and how it puts limitations on those discriminated. This art piece is supposed to capture that idea. In the story I am developing, the people in that world have wings. Wings typically represent freedom, but in the image those wings are bound in chains, representing those limitation.

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Jasmine Nguyen- Viper’s Pit Digital

Kathy GuoLoGICAL 56

Ink

Chayne Hollis- Vogue Linocut print

Trans bodies are often excluded from media, as they don’t fit into our beauty standards— what cis society thinks a typical “man” or “woman” should look like. Here, I try to show them in the spotlight, even overshadowing symbols of typical beauty— open and proud trans bodies.

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Jill HorowitzShards and Shatters Graphite and color pencil

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Ella Zhang- My Dog <3 Digital photograph

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Some Mysterious Force Michelle Lu Little Jeremy lay gasping on the ground, covered with splotchy, red patches. “W-why didn’t y-you call the ambulance?” she managed to make out through intermittent sobs. “Jeremy could’ve DIED, and all you c-could do was-” Mrs. Jacobs inhaled sharply. “And all you could do was call him ‘DISGUSTING’?”

Mark groaned. “Damn you, lady,” he muttered, casting his eyes away from the accusing and enraged glare of his neighbor across the street.

“You’re just a sad and miserable old man!” Mrs. Jacobs cried. She cradled poor Jeremy’s head in her lap as he clawed at his skin, leaving blood-red marks on his once pale, freckled skin.

“Ehh, go to hell. How was I to know that he’s allergic to a damn bee?

The kid’s always scratchin’ himself sick.” Mark shuffled along the sidewalk in his boots, past the heaving son and bawling mother, each step leaving behind crumbs of dried cement. He crammed his hand deep in the pockets of his trousers, caked with dirt and large droplets of sweat from his work in the daytime.

Life was noisy enough with the incessant droning and clanking of the excavators on site, crunching over that dilapidated old thing, the diner. Standing for nearly five decades, its paint peeled in cheap strips off the walls and fell in tiny flakes over anyone who walked by. The once luminescent sheen of the red block letters spelling out “The Bufont Munch ‘’ no longer shined, and the ‘M’ fell lopsided, leaning sideways on the ‘t’ in fatigue. The new mayor of the town, a snappy fellow dressed always in a clean suit and matching neck tie, insisted that this weatherbeaten shack be demolished. It was not “suitable” for the outer appearance of the town or conducive in attracting tourists and new residents.

Mark Little, age fifty-eight, the longtime resident of an inconspicuous little town in the middle of nowhere, then had bestowed upon him this very job. Rather, no one else deigned to sign up for the role of construction foreman, even if it meant a salary two times the average income. In all of its glory, the diner remained cherished by all the residents of Bufont—a memory frozen in time of the once savory and tender classic cheeseburger with fries and the only jukebox in town that still played “Little Darlin’” with the toss of a quarter.

“Don’t you turn your back on me,” Mrs. Jacobs yelled from across the street, one arm still holding Jeremy while the other waving wildly at Mark. “If Jeremy faints, I am going to hold you responsible.”

Her eyes blazed bright with more fury as she recalled the whispers in town. “It didn’t matter that our good-for-nothing mayor hired a dozen construction workers to t-tear down the diner. But you--how could you make yourself a part of this, too?”

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Mark felt a twinge of guilt jolt through his body. It was true; he had grown up in this town and in this diner. He hung out with his best friends at the Bufont Munch and played card games after school let out. This was where he earned his first paycheck. He had his first kiss on the second table to the right. His first dance was with a girl to the songs on the jukebox.

Ptooey. He spat on the ground, hard. “Why the hell does any of this matter? It’s just a damn diner that’s falling apart, anyways. You gotta problem with me trying to make some bucks for myself?” He didn’t wait for Mrs. Jacob’s response. Mark stomped up his front porch stairs and slammed the door behind him.

The house was dark, and Mark fumbled to turn on the lights while kicking off his dusty boots. Sighing, he surveyed his disheveled living room.

Dirty dishes and bowls stacked high in piles on the table, and soiled clothes were strewn across the floor, leaving little room for walking space. Ignoring the mess and the growl of his stomach, Mark walked towards a pile of blankets, careful as he lifted up the layers until he revealed two, floppy ears and a set of drooping eyes staring back at him.

“Hey there, Tillie,” Mark cooed, as he massaged her large ears and let his companion sniff his hand until she recognized his scent. “Look what I bought you today-- a can of your favorite dinner: salmon, potato, and pea stew.” She limped over slowly, her left front leg dragging on the ground. In several gulps she swallowed the meal and, limping back, nestled in the blankets again. Mark waited until Tillie fell asleep, watching as she succumbed to her heavy eyelids. As he reached for the doorknob, a pat pat pat filled the room. Confused, Mark turned around, observing in shock Tillie’s tail wagging as it slapped the blanket in quick succession. He wondered what, or who, Tillie was looking at.

Outside, the evening air felt cool on his bare skin. Mark, hesitant, closed the front door behind him. Something had compelled him to go for a walk. Certainly, this was not his own idea, and certainly not now, when half the town hated him. ‘Some mysterious force that keeps all of us going,’ his mother used to say. ‘We all just keep turnin’ in turnin’ and then wound up six feet under. That’s why you ought to listen to it more often.’

Mark swallowed. His arms somehow felt lighter; he swung them a few times and with determined strides and a consistent pace, began walking down the neighborhood. Clack. Clack. Clack. His jammed fists loosened their strain in his pockets.

A gust of wind blew by and filled the air with a sweet floral scent of magnolia flowers. The curtains were drawn inside the house, but a warm glow illuminated the front porch. Holding his breath, Mark stopped and strained his ears for any noise he could make out. Silence. The front porch light blinked a few times and turned off quietly. Mark exhaled.

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Chapter f iv

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Midn

Ella Zhang-Touch Inspired by the realization of how important human connections are during the pandemic.

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ight Blues

Nicole Chang -Moonshot

Digital photograph

a Sometimes, taking a second glance can shift the entire world from of stars. simple sun in a muddy puddle to a mystical moon akin thsousands

Kiana Duggal-Alluring Flaws 64

Digital photograph

My Dreams Saanvi Bapat I always go to a different place at this time The beach, the city, the school, the darkness.

I always feel a different way at this time Excitement, loneliness, concern, fear.

Yet it all immediately goes away after this time As if those places and emotions never were there to begin.

But when I go to those different places, Aren’t I in the same place?

But when I feel those different ways Aren’t I imagining it?

But I dare to wonder, what if it were true?

What if I were at the beach being shoved into a hole the size of my body, my screams being covered up by the suffocating sand?

What if I were in the city, the tall skyscrapers falling one after another at my feet, as I scampered for my life until I ran out of breath, seeing the fateful glass building’s shadow over my head in my last moments?

What if I were at school, failing test after test, being an utter disappointment to my family and those I loved?

What if I were in the darkness, with no light even possible to be conjured up in my imagination, as I slowly lost all sense of consciousness?

But then I know, when I wake up That to dream is one, but to believe is another.

So I forget my dreams, until I dream them again When they come back to haunt me once more.

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Sophia Anthus- Untitled Clay, acrylic paint, glaze

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Meera Misra- Vasilisa the Wise Digital, Procreate

Based on an old Eastern European fairy tale.

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Firey Glass - Kiana Duggal Digital photograph

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Ella Zhang Seeking the Comforting Truth Digital photograph The piece Seeking the Comforting Truth was inspired by my observing the increasing schism between political factions, states, and people. Today, people scream at each other about science, vaccines, immigration, isolationism, and color, and no one appears to be willing to listen to opposing perspectives. It is as if everyone believes only they see the truth, and yet their clarity and conclusions are filtered by their ideologies. I chose to use several pairs of eyeglasses to represent how people see our world differently. The placement and lighting of the glasses bring to mind the motion of insect wings illuminated by moonlight. This is an abstract portrayal of insects at night; they fly blindly and gather near lamps, similar to how people follow political figures and believe their words without a second thought.

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Chayne Hollis- Tic

Watercolor wax pastels, plexiglass, modeling paste, acrylic

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Sophia Campbell-Untitled Wood, nylon, and acrylic

This piece is an abstract scupture that was inspired by lightning storms.

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Mothchild - Shewta Arun 72

Digital art

KC- Reflecting Digital Photograph

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n.g.

Writer she would have been an ornament to society, but she is not so content, so hollow. she is not pretty; she is undefinable, celestial. her mind is the night sky—a glittering chasm of reflection. when it spills over, she dips her pen in its inky blackness and finds poetry. and the real thing lies there, just beyond her reach, in the summer wind gliding through an open window, in the first pink-gold flush of light at dawn. she is a part of it, and it is a part of her. she does not know herself, but each line she writes reveals to her another piece of the puzzle. drunk on possibility, the words fall, stardust scattered on an empty page.

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Mushroom - Olivia Trmacder Ipad and apple pencil

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Members of the Team 76

Lead Directors

Mia Overbo & Ella Zhang

Literature

Michelle Lu - Lead Gia Mohlajee Ava Santor Naina Gupta Sasha Wang Saanvi Bapat Miriam Ramakrishnan

Art

Allison, Kemp - Lead Naina Gupta - Lead Kate Crone Mia Overbo Anusha jain Sahana Mahesh Quinlyn Phan Tiana Do

Moderator

Photography

Amaya Gomez - Lead Ella Zhang Meera Misra Brianna Rivera Alvarez

Advertising & Publications Sahana Mahesh - Lead Quinlyn Phan Arushi Kharbanda Lasya Pamarthy

Design

Shrobana - Lead Jasmine Sohn

Ms. Deak

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