The Ivy | #12 | June 2017

THE IVY ISSUE NO. 12 | PHS

THE IVY

The Ivy began in the 1960s,

ISSUE N . 12 O

but its serialization began in 2014.

Editors’ Letter Dearest Readers, This is a letter that we dreaded writing. One of us has been with the magazine for half of her time here at PHS, and the other has been here ever since the first issue. We’ve watched the magazine grow from a group of students sitting together in the Fagles room into a completely redesigned publication. Before we entered high school, The Ivy printed issues from school computers and stapled them together in the library. In the past four years, The Ivy took that creative platform and built upon it until the magazine became what you are reading today. We are so happy to be graduating, but we will dearly miss sitting in a circle and eating pizza while arguing about which font to use on our spreads. We hope that you will enjoy our peers’ funny animals, beautiful art, and insightful literature as much as we do. So, with pride and much nostalgia, here is the last issue of the year.

Yours,

Stefan (my last name is too weird anyway) & Daphne (I’m getting my last name changed soon, so it doesn’t matter)

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Table of Contents Taylor Whittington, BLUE IS THE NEW WOMAN

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UNTITLED, Michelle Wang

Siyang Liu, SOMEDAY

8-9

IDENTITY, Shira Chuang

Darya Tahvildar-Zadeh, GOOD 2ND SEMESTER SENIOR VIBES

10-11

DAYBREAK, Rutha Chivate

Jasmine Xu, RENEWAL

12-13

DOUBLE DARES, Grace Forrest

Sour Pomo, AN ODE TO NETFLIX Mildred Ouyang Keri Zhang, A LOVELY MURDER IN THE GARDEN Grace Zhang, PERSEPHONE Marc Roberge-Pika, A PREMONITION

14-15 UNSQUARE DANCE, Will DeVoe 16-17

RUSH HOUR

18-19 SPRING TEA, Caroline Tan 20-21 SORRY, Angelique Bencivenga 22-23 INCHING ALONG, Valeria Torres-Olivares

Anonymous, MEDICATION

24-25 LONGPORT NIGHTS, Eli Nathan

Anonymous, DEAR M

26-27 72 YEARS WISER, Amelia Wright

Jerrybibo, LINEAR MIND 28-29 THOUGHTS, Jasper Scott Staff Page

30-31 Colophon

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BLUE IS THE NEW WOMAN, Taylor Whittington I wear blue like the river where my great-grandmother drowned.

Blue like the wind that whipped against her open skin.

Blue like the cotton, daisy-printed chains that covered her knees and bound her body tight.

Navy blue lace like a gate without a lock—an invitation for men she didn’t give the key.

Denim blue jeans of rebellion that split her legs in two and gave her the power to run.

Cyan like the ribbons that fell out of her curls and onto the pages of the textbook of freedom.

Teal like the paint on her kitchen walls and cardboard sign that floated down Wall Street in 1970.

I wear blue like a battle scar for those who fought before, the cobalt polish like a war heart that reminds me of the choices I’ve won.

My blue is a reminder of the ones who gave me the right to trade in my sundress for a pantsuit and my nightgown for lingerie.

My blue will not die till my daughter can only look back and wonder what the world was like before she could paint her own colors.

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TITLE, Artist Name

UNTITLED, Michelle Wang

gouache |7

S O M E D A Y, Siyang Liu

our minds. our raw anger. that is all we have left in this world to fuel the fire in our eyes to strengthen the restlessness in our hearts we devise, we scheme, we think ourselves smarter but the system prevails every time how we hunger for that power to create change to one day construct justice‌ we are comforted by the guarantee we built ourselves that wrongs could be righted just wait. our bodies are thrown against the relentless wall knock it down! knock it down! we scream, we are hoarse the wall does not budge the power is not ours.

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IDENTITY,

Shira Chuang acrylic

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summer nights, flashing lights ripe kiwis and stolen bikes oily food, stomachs full everything shiny, nothing dull comfortable conversation, casual banter TITLE, Artist Name witty jokes, meaningful encounters everything temporary, and so quick nothing negative can stick hand out the window, sights whizzing by radio fuzz, trees sigh and the boys are singing, the boys are singing their voices cracking, and ringing, and true it feels like the start of something new i join in too happily ever after, whooooooo ooo how can i ask for more?

GOOD 2ND SEMESTER SENIOR VIBES feat. panic! at the disco, Darya Tahvildar-Zadeh

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DAYBREAK, Rutha Chivate, acrylic TITLE, Artist Name

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RENEWAL, Jasmine Xu

acrylic on canvas

i’ve felt like escaping ever since my feet first hit the ground and i felt it i felt gone but what does “free” really mean, when your hopes, dreams, desires are constantly being shot by the people who let you go. why does starting down a new path feel like walking on thin ice. where numbness takes you first DOUBLE DARES, never the breeze or the snow or what Grace Forrest you see, it’s the things that creep up fast and ruin you faster it’s where you get your arms pulled so hard. so, so hard they snap. and they shake, and they won’t stop until peace. but how do you find peace in a constant stalemate? how do you become warm, when all you know are burns and cracks hot as the guilt that rises from you, i think, if that even exists anymore. cold to the touch, one push and it shatters everything. in one second, even less if you think about it how many things have you thought, and been wrong? so, so passionate, angry, livid about something and you’re wrong. you’re wrong i’m sorry and you are and you won’t tolerate it but you are so i guess i’m not sorry anymore i’m just waiting for you to incinerate burn the shackles you hold me in i dare you.

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AN ODE TO NETFLIX, Sour Pomo Amidst my detestable procrastination, A bright light, An avenue for damnation Yet divine in your own right, Beckoning away from this homework abyss And into the realm of a hazmat clad dad, to the weirdo on Maple Street And to fantasy worlds every second Molding me into an experienced nomad With a bad grade sheet

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UNSQUARE DANCE, Will DeVoe

ink and digital

RUSH HOUR, Mildred Ouyang

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photography

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A LOVELY MURDER IN THE GARDEN, Keri Zhang close, please close that cellar door bury the dagger in dust and time your rabbit pulse spills onto the parsley, sage, rosemary, and crime sleep, just sleep my lovely one the world spirals on around you, but here is a solace found in the forget-me-nots, face down hear me, hear through clouded ears a eulogy, my cavalier— haven’t you flirted enough, dear soul, with fears of yesteryear? rest, oh rest my comely love why gurgle, thrash, and cry? just revel in the dwindling rhythm of veins ‘til your end—a lullaby.

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art’s medium

SPRING TEA, Caroline Tan

graphite and oil on canvas | 19

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PERSEPHONE, Grace Zhang oil

SORRY, Angelique Bencivenga

I’d thought myself something worth remembering But the truth is some things are too traumatic to forget Do not think yourself the victim when you have broken more people than there are cracks in your body Little girl you mustn’t believe the lies you tell yourself You should not force your pain on others and call it trust.

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A PREMONITION, Marc Roberge-Pika

It rumbles down with the soundless power of an anachronism, the smartphone among the sepia or the newborn’s hate-filled first word: infinitely out of place yet wrongly there, illusorily concrete, an oxymoronic adverb: March thunder, or rather timeswept thunder washed ashore in March, swamping this month’s daffodils with flip-flops, flotsam from the future.

Washed ashore, an electric omen of a balancing act out-of-whack, slackwire walker hitting the ground before she knows she fell, Cambrian explosion among twenty-first century clouds, warm-water metal mandibles clacking beneath the surface.

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photography

INCHING ALONG, Valeria Torres-Olivares | 23

MEDICATION, Anonymous medication chemicals might solve nothing might just create more problems you don’t know who does you’re worried of course you are but is it worth it is it worth the pain the confusion the days weeks months lost to frustration depression it’s okay if you’re scared I am too I understand but nothing’s changing what you don’t realize your fear does not help your help hurts

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LONGPORT NIGHTS, Eli Nathan

photography

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DEAR M, Anonymous I tried to love you. You speak the language of the universe—how could I I tried to love you. You speak the language of the universe—how could I not love you? With all my mannerisms and appreciation for connections (and contradictions & all that’s in between)—how could I not accept you?

The wise speak of you as their muse. I’ve traced your silhouette in paintings and books and music. You’re everywhere. I wish I could breathe in your entire being and live in awe of the perfect coincidence of things. I wish I could study you every minute of the day and listen to all your stories of odd intellectuals with uneven shoulders.

But the truth is I’m not ready to give up what I have. While you’re dazzling, certainly, it’s too much. I think I met you too late in my life and this romance can’t work.

Dear M, please understand. You contain multitudes and you are infinite. I know. (Hell, the world knows.) Believe me, I know I’m a fool for not devoting myself to you.

Best regards, A Tired Calculus Student

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oil on canvas

72 YEARS WISER, Amelia Wright

LINEAR MIND, Jerrybibo

art’s medium

Floating away all my days deprived of this thing that’s called love Singing a song ‘bout being gone feeling blue ’til my life flew

Linear mind.

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photography

Looking behind I cannot find up the rooftop ‘bout time to stop

m

THOUGHTS, Jasper Scott

STAFF LIST Editors-in-Chief

Daphne Kontogiorgos-Heintz Stefan Pophristic

Managing Editor Leslie Liu

Copy Editors Keri Zhang Michelle Wang

Business

Jackie Girouard (Manager) Alexander Blackwell Jasmine Xu

Technology

Caroline Tan (Manager) Grace Zhang Jingyi Zhang

Advisors

Mr. Gonzalez Ms. Muça

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Contributing Sta Members Kamola Agzamova Mayowa Ayodele Clara Bourquelot Shira Chuang Emilia Ferrante Grace Forrest Emily Han Matt Karns Nina Li John Liang Lisa Mishra Nishan Mishra Angel Musyimi Maya Pophristic Anya Sachdev Shane Spring Valeria Torres-Olivares Ashley Wang Emily Wang Leah Williamson Amelia Wright Aileen Wu

an H y

JELLIE S, E

m il

COLOPHON The artwork in this issue was accepted through standard review board voting and discussion. The artists’ names were kept anonymous to everyone but the managing editor and the Editors-in-Chief, who had compiled all of the submissions. Each staff member could vote “yes” or “no” anonymously for each piece via Google form. All visual pieces with over 75% approval and literary pieces with over 42% approval were published in order to maintain a proportionate art-to-literature ratio. If multiple art submissions by the same artist had enough votes to be accepted, the piece with the most votes was published.

photography

FONTS PRINTING PAPER | House Laser Gloss #80, 8.5x8.5 inches Printed by Short Run Printing. 2017

COVER | Baskerville regular 60pt, 12pt TABLE OF CONTENTS | Open Sans semibold 14pt, Lora italic 14pt STAFF LIST | Open Sans semibold 14pt, Open Sans light 13pt, Lora italic 14pt COLOPHON | Open Sans semibold 13pt, Open Sans light 48pt, Lora italic 13pt, Lora regular 13pt SUBMISSION TITLES | Open Sans light 18pt SUBMISSION AUTHORS | Open Sans light 14pt SUBMISSION MEDIA | Open Sans light 12pt SUBMISSION TEXT | Lora regular 13pt

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BUSINESS ETHICS 101, Eddie Cai, oil