Alternative 2017

2017 Visual Art & Literature

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11 Margaret Bailey. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 Kevin Beck. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Katrina Bond . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Jordan Brashier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Lydia Bruce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15, 26 Haley Casillas. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37 Christian Cerda. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Sophia Esparza . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Martha Especulta. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Adora Evans. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Cristi Farrar-Mitchell. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Daisy Fernandez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Cesar Flores . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Tiffany Frame. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Justin M. Gilbert. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Jasmine Hernandez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Jonathan Juarez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 Allison Kanios . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 David Lackey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Juan Lara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Donna Mann. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Hermila Martinez. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Sharon Mathew. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Kevin Meyer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Luisa Montes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17, 25 Patricia Moran. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22, 29 Esther Moreno. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24, 39 Brian Nguyen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 Alicia M. Oberlachner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Alec Ogle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Tara Olson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10, 31 Luis Revilla . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Fausto Robledo. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Ariel Rodriguez. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Ziko Rogers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Alejandra Rosas. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 David Sanchez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Lynn Smith . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Vince Tuhy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Amber Washington. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Symone Anderson. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

AB O U T T H E A LT E RNATI VE The Alternative, Eastfield College’s student-produced visual art and literature magazine, was first published in 1990 to highlight student writing and artwork. After a three-year hiatus from 2007–09, it was restarted in 2010, receiving an honorable mention for general excellence from the Texas Community College Journalism Association.

The college has published a student literary magazine under five other names, starting with The Villager in 1971. It was changed to Goat Leg in 1976, Epoch in 1980, Et Cetera Ambiance in 1988 and Visions in 1989.

This year’s edition features a variety of works including drawings, paintings, poetry, and photography.

It would not have been possible without the collaborative efforts of students and advisers from the following disciplines: Art, Digital Media, English and Journalism.

DESIGNED AND PRODUCED BY THE ADVANCED DIGITAL PUBLISHING CLASS, DIGITAL MEDIA DEPARTMENT, DIVISION OF ARTS AND COMMUNICATIONS Lilia Chavero Manuel Guapo Muhammad Jallow Hermila Martinez Citlaly Montoya

Esther Moreno Edward Neal Alejandra Rosas David Sanchez Alvonda White

ARTS AND COMMUNICATIONS DIVISION ADVISERS Iris Bechtol, Gallery Director David Danforth, Digital Media Program Coordinator Lori Dann, Journalism Faculty and Program Coordinator Mandy Engleman, Digital Media Adjunct Faculty Elizabeth Langton, Student Publications Manager Larissa Pierce, English Faculty

All contributions in this magazine are the works of Eastfield College students. Opinions expressed in this magazine are those of the writers, photographers and artists and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Dallas County Community College District and Eastfield College.

SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE TIFFANY FRAME Acrylic on Canvas

SONNY MEMBRANE ALICIA M. OBERLACHNER

Son you ran away too soon Your cerebrum touched the grooves Of my septum Grasping the frame of what was To what is Deoxygenated flow You swallowed me whole Left me with no food to eat Nor air to breathe In a casket beneath Nearly twenty-eight Carrying the weight of your dreams In a world obscene Waiting for acetylcholine Or a false sense of hope The money choked us all Beckoned your call As you stood on my porch Listening to the caws We loved you so Though your spirit resides home Your memories rest within

INDOMITABLE DAVID LACKEY Photograph

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A BRAND NEW SKIRT A D O R A E VA N S As bright as a button, the toddler danced She was his daughter And not hers, because she didn’t wear skirts Daddy celebrated her dreams Mom left, driving in the girl’s fears.

Never trust a woman Dad married an evil woman.

She made fun of me when I danced Dad was there, but reinforced my fears He had no more time for his daughter No time for my dreams Men started to notice my skirts.

Aunt Donna looked great in skirts She had a miscarriage when she was a young woman I was eight, sleeping. Uncle interrupted one of my dreams.

Between adrenaline and fear my heart danced It was okay that I was no one’s daughter Being alone was no longer one of my fears My uncle’s visits calmed my fears So much power lived in my skirts I hated being a daughter Didn’t they know he made me a woman?

Something felt wrong, so I danced Dancing on stage filled my dreams.

Should’ve known Uncle’s love was not the stuff of dreams, Told everyone and solidified my fears Alone, again. In my room I danced Didn’t tell anyone else when men visited my skirts “I’m thirteen” men still saw me as a woman I hope I never have a daughter

RISING SUN ZIKO ROGERS Digital Illustration

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Why did my parents abandon their daughter?

Scary beings, visited my dreams Soon after I became a woman I surrendered to my fears I used the power of my skirts Making money while I danced I hope my daughter never shares my fears I’ll protect her dreams and put shorts under her skirts.

And once she is a woman, she’ll remember how we danced.

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ALTERED

UNTITLED (MASK)

S O P H I A E S PA R Z A

DAISY FERNANDEZ Mixed Media

The outside is pure The inside is vile A flower is closed, look At its beauty! Exotic, grace and dignity It radiates. Alas – the flower opens, a venomous snake comes slithering out.

CAUTERIZED KEVIN MEYER Found Cloth

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FRIDA HERMILA MARTINEZ Digital Illustration

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NUMB TA R A O L S O N

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CEMENTED ALEJANDRA ROSAS Photography

Endings

So it’s going to be

They always come

Her feeling numb

They always hurt

Her crying every night

They always break her

Her screaming at the top of

She is so tired

Her Lungs

She turned to the things that numb

Her giving up

The things she swore she wouldn’t touch again

Her not caring about

The things that tore her favorite people apart

The things that once meant the

Turning to everything

World to her

That he couldn’t handle anymore

Music

But this is the difference

Reading

If she can’t have what she wants

Friends

She doesn’t care anymore

Family

If he leaves, If she fails

Love

MY BABY!

If college isn’t the thing for her

None of it matters to

SYMONE ANDERSON Acrylic on Canvas

She doesn’t care

Her anymore

She doesn’t feel

She doesn’t feel anymore

She doesn’t try anymore

She doesn’t cry true tears anymore

It’s supposed to be

It is all robotic for her

Her Life

Her mind

Her Choice

Doesn’t think real thoughts

Her Future

Her mouth doesn’t say real words

But now it’s become

Her heart doesn’t feel real emotions

Her Life around their time

Numb

Her Choice with them commenting on everything

She only feels

Her Future built around other people

Numb

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MILDRED JUSTIN M. GILBERT

TAPPS ART

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BRIAN NGUYEN Digital Illustration

Maybe it was your possessions hidden away or Maybe it was your books on the shelf Or maybe it’s now my regrets

I was there I know I was only a stranger I know that was my fault

I kissed your head and I said I loved you The things I should have said

I wish I had grown up to care I never knew your middle name was Frances I never knew what amazing books you read

Before you were gone Although you were cold And could not hear

I never knew the person you were And that I now know I suffer with compunction and dread

I spoke anyway While you dreamed forever Somewhere out in space

I wish I could tell you why Maybe it was because I was angry Even though my quarrel was never with you

There are many things I want to say now But it is long too late Many things I hope you knew

But I made a promise I intend to keep I told you I would honor you

Many things now to be unsaid I’m sorry I was rarely there Thank you for all

And write something

The jeans you repaired Driving me to school And most of all

Sleep well and sweet dreams I hope you’re in a better place I’m glad the suffering is over

Being there Even when I wasn’t I may have only been “Sandwich”

I’m glad you can now be at peace.

But it is true I always did love you

Or Jesus in the end But I saw you more then I know you probably didn’t know

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DROWNING 2/16/17 A M B E R WA S H I N G T O N Why am I here . . . I can’t even swim Standing on the edge, my life on a limb Please God I’m waiting for a sign Give me a tip, what’s on your mind?

Should I go down this road or the other way?

Do I trust this person or the games they play?

I don’t understand what it is I seem to lack

How do I get around this? Feelings I can’t contain, help me train my brain, I feel like I’m going insane!

I’m reaching the bottom and I’m all out of time, I close my eyes and let fate help me shine.

But before I give up like how I always do, A hand pulls me back up before my wings flew.

I choke and gasp and try to rekindle my mind,

Every time I take a step forward, I’m somehow pushed three steps back.

Everything I’ve seen yet I still end up blind.

Suddenly I fell and the water surrounded my skies, I fell into my own pool of lies.

It’s time for me to fight, for my dreams and my happiness right now,

Frantically splashing and searching for air,

Anything my life will allow.

I saw the shadow on the surface of the person I despair,

So let’s do this! I survived, let’s turn this thing around today!

Her heart has a tear, her smile now rare, Someone who learned to forget to care.

Let me thank the person that made this all okay.

The shadow I saw was looking me in the face,

My life is flashing all through my mind, all the regrets I’m leaving behind.

And I looked in their eyes for I couldn’t turn away.

Nothing perfect I can find, everyone crossing the line!

This shadow I see every time I come here, is a person I love

Where are my goals?

Where is my happiness?

And a person I fear.

Where was myself when I needed me?

She’ll tell me all these wonderful things so positive and great,

Why is my soul not set free?

But she’ll also fill my head with madness and hate.

I’m blessed but depressed, how can that be?

I can’t escape from her or her ways, unless I force myself

My life is great but I’m not happy.

I’ve lost myself in a world of hate, can I be found or is it already too late?

I’m still young and have so much life, but the time keeps cutting me like a knife.

I’m not where I want to be and I don’t get it, please explain.

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To only have better days.

I’ll always dream of the fame, the spotlight, my goals, the wealth, But how can I stop drowning . . . when I’m the one pushing myself.

SELF PORTRAIT LYDIA BRUCE Charcoal on Paper

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#GOALS LUISA MONTES

In front of me stands a walking corpse.

Chapped lips half open in surprise and ghastly, sunken eyes stare back at me, a beauty that has left me paralyzed.

Dark lashes touch her majestic cheekbones erratically, delight visible in her gaze.

That gap between her thighs feeds her vanity; she deserves nothing but praise.

The pale skin stretches over her protruding bones painfully, like there is just too much of her to cover.

All it takes is a slender digit trailing her prominent collarbones shamelessly and this sight alone makes her stuttering heart flutter

EYEBOTIC KEVIN BECK Colored Pencil on Paper

And I can count her ribs, all so perfectly aligned, waiting to protect her frail chest from any harm.

She’s perfect, so thin and slim and only skin.

The cold reflection returns my grin.

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GIRLS LIKE ME K AT R I N A B O N D

Girls like me bruise easy

THE LADIES (1 OF 2) DONNA MANN Watercolor on Paper

A single poke and blood comes rushing to the surface, begging to be spilled Girls like me can’t shut up to save our lives Small talk turns into an autobiography and crying over scar tissue And that horrified look in your eyes Girls like me share our flaws before our phone numbers, You’ll see us naked before we ever undress Girls like me avoid eye contact We’re begging to be shot, no Kevlar, Just hoping honesty can cure bullet wounds Girls like me kiss with teeth and one hand in your hair The other on the door Girls like me love the taste of blood We’ll bite our tongues in half for metallic nostalgia Girls like me burn ourselves alive to keep warm Solve a problem by creating a bigger one Girls like me cure sickness with injury Feed a cold, starve a fever, lacerate a heartbreak It’ll get worse before it gets better Girls like me peel off scabs like stickers Open half-healed wounds like windows in the springtime Girls like me watch ourselves fall in love And do everything in our power to make sure the landing breaks bones Girls like me fall easy

THE LADIES (2 OF 2) DONNA MANN Watercolor on Paper

I don’t expect you to catch me.

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BRIDGE JORDAN BRASHIER Balsa Wood

BRIDGE VINCE TUHY Balsa Wood

GREEN BUILDING

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DAVID SANCHEZ Photograph

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CAGE

SILENT SONATA LYNN SMITH Acrylic on Canvas

ALLISON KANIOS They call it a home, The place you live.

Sometimes it’s more like a cage; Its doors cut people off from each other, Its curtains hide the windows.

The walls feel the anger and darkness that never leave the perimeter.

They absorb all the secrets, Grasping every painful detail.

Everything locks: the doors and windows.

It’s meant to keep things out, When in reality it locks everything in.

Yet we call this cage home.

SHADOWS FAUSTO ROBLEDO Ink and Marker on Paper

TRANQUIL FRUSTRATION PATRICIA MORAN Acrylic on Canvas

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( T H I S I S W H AT D R E A M S A R E ) LUISA MONTES

fragments of fantasies building homes upon resting realities creating bursting universes with indefinite insatiable galaxies sinuous tendrils of preposterous ideas and unattainable hopes like the exact pattern of a painter’s most famous strokes stuffing a raging mind who dares not forget ancient aspirations nevermind society’s cruel and constraining expectations splashes of color overflowing and filling up again and again an unhealthy amount of creativity that can only be condemned castles in the air, abundant in their fancy hallucinations fairy tales probably summoned by wicked incantations and still, perhaps, life’s most redeeming characteristic the only thing that allows the lost ones to be optimistic so let us dream, walk through our wishes in this neverland that if could only be let us sleep and discover worlds of life and love and light and beauty

NOT ALL WHO WANDER ARE LOST ESTHER MORENO Marker and Watercolor Brush

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DONUT LYDIA BRUCE Charcoal on Paper

LITTLE WONDERS JONATHAN JUAREZ Digital Illustration

STIFF LEGGED BEAR

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ARIEL RODRUGUEZ Mixed Media on Paper

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CUPCAKE PARTY 1 PATRICIA MORAN Acrylic on Canvas

CUPCAKE PARTY 2 PATRICIA MORAN Acrylic on Canvas

UNTITLED

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MARTHA ESPECULTA Ink and Watercolor on Paper

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NUMBERS TA R A O L S O N Grades Height Weight Rank GPA ACT score SAT score Numbers all numbers Everyone always trying to Bring up or bring down These numbers Just numbers 123456 100 200 300 2000 3000 Beauty Sexy Honesty Courage Letters all letters Making up words That mean just as much as numbers Character One word nine letters

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TREE

Makes up who we really are

ALEC OGLE Pigment Transfer on Bristol

Not GPA or 3.0 People not robots

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STITCHES CESAR FLORES Colored Pencil on Paper

EL PONCHO (MASK) JASMINE HERNANDEZ Mixed Media

UNTITLED JUAN LARA Charcoal on Paper

UNTITLED CRISTI FARRAR-MITCHELL Mixed Media

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CANDID LIES LUIS REVILLA Tonight . . .

I’m missing you like crazy.

And as the wrenching feeling of your absence overtakes me, I lay here in hopes for a better tomorrow.

A tomorrow where only you exist, like in today’s afternoon. When it was only you.

You and I. And I wanted to hold on longer.

Long enough to remember your touch.

And that is what I miss the most.

Your touch, a fire greater than anything revolves in my heart after every hug.

But I’m not content with the situation.

However, I am indeed content with you.

Because you are the best thing that has happened to me.

And I hope it’s not too late for this . . .

But let me remind you that you are the most important part of my life.

This mutual weakness is not good.

As I can hurt you as easily as you could hurt me.

But ironically, I want this.

I want you.

In every way, and every day.

On a snowy day when you are eager to wear a sweater and go outside.

As well as in the hottest day when all you want to do is stay in and eat ice cream. But the best part is that you would do either, disregarding the season. And that, ma’am, is a great quality not everyone has. I only see it in you.

You say there’s variety, but how can there be such when in my mind everything I see in you no one else has?

You want me to look for something different, as if I hadn’t been looking for someone like you this whole time.

The difference is: I found you.

I don’t care if this is wrong, even if someone tells me it’s wrong. But I feel this, and I’m willing to give it my all.

So just let me try my best not to lose this opportunity.

Sometimes I’m weak. But I am still going to do it.

And that’s how it is.

DE

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MARGARET BAILEY Mixed Media

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ACHA’S THOONIMUREE

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SHARON MATHEW Graphite on Paper

ORANGE AND BLUE STILL LIFE HALEY CASILLAS Watercolor on Paper

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THE FOUR MOPEDS OF THE APOCALYPSE

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CHRISTIAN CERDA Ink on Paper

FOXY BROWN PAM GRIER ESTHER MORENO Digital Illustration

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PRINTING GENEROUSLY DONATED BY

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