Spring 2018 Volume 3
Introspection--the examination or observation of one’s own mental and emotional processes. While reviewing the entries for the 2018 Oviedo High School Arts Unleashed Literary Magazine, the design team realized that the majority of the submissions dealt with deep, meaningful ideas; they look inward to figure out different concepts and issues. Perplexing--completely baffling; very puzzling. Some of these things, however, seemed difficult or confusing to figure out, so we chose to add “perplexing” to the idea of “introspection.” The magazine itself comes and goes over the course of the years, which isn’t quite ever explained. The life cycle of the magazine is perplexing. Perhaps, with a little introspection, we will be able to understand its purpose and presence--or lack thereof--a little better.
arts unleashe Literary Lions Club
president Isabel Fain vice president Bryn Garick secretary Michelle Cudebec social media guru Delaney Fose
members Sophia Bloom Carlos Chavez Morgan Gunter Amari Jacobs Sophia Knight
advisers Rachel Miracolo & Michelle Millard
Asiana Battle Katie Coghill Patrick Costello Kenneth Dukes Maria Escobar
Journalism I Pub
Madison McConnell Justina Nielsen Katie Pierce Taylor Thompson Alyssa Tossi
adviser Elise T. Carlson
melancholy page 4 complex page 18 scattered page 30 ambitious page 42 insightful page 58
ed staff 2018
blication Staff photographers James Bowen Ashley Dacosta Alison Schimpf Michelle Vernikos Katherine Flores Brianna McIntyre Mackinley Spalding Rhaven Stevens
Abbie Davis Grace Davis Jhan Delgado Batalla Katie Hassell Raelyn Knaub Nick McGrew Emily Metevier Brooke Murdock Jadyn Watkins
Arts Unleashed Literary Magazine is produced by the Journalism I class. Students of Oviedo High School submitted art and literature, which were carefully considered by the members of the Literary Lions Club. Oviedo High School 601 King Street Oviedo, FL 32765 407.320.4050
The Predicament of an Open Flame Julia Hoffman
An open flame is something of admiration. Hues of red, yellow, orange, white, and blue transcend into an other-worldly masterpiece. As Prometheus did, some look up to it, as for it can be a symbol of life. Of passion. Of warmth. But it is said not to play with fire. It can destroy. It can incinerate. It can take life as easily as it gave it. Uncontrolled it is a hazardous affair, inflicting pain on those surrounding; searing the life out of everything until it all turns to ash. This causes some to hate it. There are ways in place to prevent a fire from growing too out of hand. But the thing most don’t realize, is how easy it is to put out. By means of sand. Of water. Of eliminating its fuel. But sometimes, sometimes the ember keep burning. Even after it has been fought against long and hard for many days, months, years. It always fights. Against all odds. But that’s the thing about an open flame. It moves ever so gracefully-grows, creates, destroys. It has been a witness to life. It comforts us in times of need. But that doesn’t keep some from despising it. We can’t blame it, really. As in all of creation, it only wants to be perfect. And perfection is impossible to have without burning the world.
2am panic attack. inhale. exhale. inhale. Focus on your breathing. Focus on the rising and falling of your chest. Inhale. Count to eight. Exhale. inhale. Why was I even awake? Why did I choose to punish myself by staying up past everyone who talks to me? Why did I force myself to suffer alone when there are so many people who would answer a call from me at this hour? exhale. I hated this feeling. This feeling of warm sadness that clouded my heart and settled in the pits of my stomach making me curl into a ball. I hated the loss of feeling in my fingers and toes from lack of breath. inhale. The phantom feeling of his arms scooping me against his chest only made my breaths faster. The way I could hear his voice in my ear, saying that everything would be ok. It wouldn’t. This only caused my tears to fall faster. exhale. I knew I could do it. That wasn’t the problem. I knew
in a couple moments I would be able to crawl into my bed and read until I fell asleep. The problem: I didn’t want to. I was tired of the daunting feeling that no one truly cared as much as I wished they would. Tired of the feeling that if I didn’t write first or make plans, people wouldn’t talk to me. Tired of the feeling that I wasn’t enough. inhale. I watched my phone carefully from across the room, it didn’t have any unanswered messages. Everyone who talked to me had gone to bed four hours ago. I was alone. I’d text someone after I had calmed down to apologize, for what I didn’t know. My gut was telling me I had messed up somehow. Perhaps, I was simply apologizing for losing my breath, for prolonging the anxiety by not just gaining enough courage to call someone for help. exhale. I pulled my beanie down over my ears trapping my headphones. It didn’t matter that no one was going to see me like this, that the one person who had was gone. I didn’t want to look like this, I didn’t want to look how I felt. I roughly rubbed the spot under my eye where makeup was smudged. This only irritated my eyes and soon my hands were rubbing the gap in my collarbone. inhale. I should’ve listened to everyone and gone to bed. I should’ve showered before midnight and been asleep
by the time the clock turned to a new day. But I didn’t because I hated the dark. I hated being alone in a dark place with just my thoughts. Though, nothing was worse than the rapid breaths I tried desperately to calm down. exhale. “You have to do this,” I whispered to myself. “If you can’t, then what can you do?” The thought that I was quickly becoming what my friends didn’t want entered my mind and suddenly all progress I had made on my breaths was lost. inhale. I couldn’t help them when they were having family problems or be properly happy when they ask someone they like out. exhale. I dropped friends after suffering through months of fighting, only to miss those dropped and blame myself for the fights. inhale. Somewhere in the last month I had become the friend people had, but didn’t necessarily want. I wasn’t the friend who was the first choice. I was more of a thirdchoice kind of person and that was ok. exhale. I had been his first choice, he was mine. But suddenly, we weren’t a choice for each other
anymore. inhale. “Stop it. You have to breathe, you have to calm down.” I covered my mouth to keep the sobs from waking up my family. I could do this on my own. I had to do this. exhale. The worst thing about panic attacks that continued for this long is that catching my breath was pointless, something would upset me and suddenly all progress would be lost. Instead, I just had to wait it out. I had to wait until my face dried up, and my heart slowed down. inhale. Eventually, all I was left with is the thoughts that I could no longer cry about and the feelings that would swirl in my head for days until I did something to make me happy enough to forget about my sadness. exhale. “You can do it, you know you can do it. You have to do it,” I begged silently to myself. “Please just breathe.” inhale. Count to 8. exhale…
To be Immortal Carlos Chavez It is one of those times again. The times of boredom. They come frequently, and getting out of them is difficult. Some people are always worried about their time, rushing about things, trying to save their time. This isnâ€™t me. There are some disadvantages of being immortal, boredom is one of them. Changing my name and appearance is no problem, they had made sure I was able to do that. I have lived under many names and faked many deaths. My list of accomplishments is really long. I have gone to every single country in the world, eaten every single animal, climbed every single mountain, I have swum whole oceans, participated in every major war. I have written hundreds of books. I can fluently speak hundreds of languages. I know all there is to learn. I have endured prison, torture, sickness. I have been starving, dehydrated, hypothermic. And I cannot die. Swords, knives, bullets, water, explosions, paralysis, claw, teeth, lava, ice, acid. None of that can kill me. I have tried everything. It never brings death, only pain. I have been alive as long as this world had existed. It was fun at first, doing dangerous stunts knowing nothing could kill me. Then came the first heartbreak. It is the worst thing you can do as an immortal, fall in love. I knew she would die, I knew I could never be with her. But I fell in love anyway. I watch my wives and kids and grandkids and everyone I ever loved die. And I keep living. At times I go back into society, but I mostly stay away, they remind me of what I am. I have many isolated homes across the world. This had been the longest period of time I have been away from the world. I look around at the countless piles of books I have read. I start screaming. I scream for mercy. I plead for them to forgive me, for them to kill me. I scream and cry this whole night, as I have many nights before and would many nights after. When would this end? I can take it no longer. The tears flow down my cheeks. I sob uncontrollably. I lay there for a few hours. When I get up, nothing has changed. No one has heard me.
Faded Sophia Bloom There’s an attic in an abandoned house, And in the attic there’s a box And in the box is a layer of dust And under the dust is a cameo-brooch. There’s a story in an abandoned cameo-brooch, And in the story is a woman And in that woman was love And in that love there was sorrow And in that sorrow was grief. There’s still grief at the abandoned grave-stone, And under that stone was a body And in that body was a heart And in that heart was love And in that love was sorrow And in that sorrow was grief.
Unprepared for the Unknown Saadhana Sridharan
Once vital, Words and numbers bounce on the carpet as the papers flood the roped-off area. I scream internally as the precious knowledge falls off the table of use. I look up at the approaching unknown Shooting at light speed Filled with hope that it will Falter for just a moment. Please. I cling to the disappearing knowledge, the papers, the words, the numbers, No matter how useless they had become. Filled with fear that it will keep approaching. I didnâ€™t know how to do this. Life.
AP Seminarrr (Video with lyrics) Ethan Fields & Ben Robinson
I know how you’re all feeling; Curious, maybe afraid I’m here to show you what to do No need to be dismayed So just come along with us a sec And hold on for the ride We’ll show you how to pass And also, get a 5 Task one, otherwise known as TMP Is a project you work on collaboratively You pick a topic, converse with your peers Dole out the different lenses over a round of beers (cheers!) Ayyy you’ve finally started Form a focused research question related to your topic Research, write, revise, don’t stop it
Peer edit then you’re done, now you’ve rocked it Time to create your group presentation Amalgamate your essays make a stylish creation Add pretty pictures if you’re in the mood But most importantly, don’t forget to include 1. Proper citations 2. Real-world applications 3. Academic explanations Counter arguments and then their subsequent refutations Once you’re finished rehearse again and again A min of 8 minutes and a max of 10 Dress up, calm down, pray “amen” Time to shine Smile, PRESENT
Click image to view video (or use https://youtu.be/DDUyK48zPbo)
AP Seminarrr The class’ll take you far Cause Anthony will show the way You’re gonna be a star AP Seminarrr Task two, this one’s individual You do a lotta research and make your own visuals It all comes together in the IMP, A media presentation for the class to see Begin with the stimuli to write a question It can be anything; it’s at your discretion So think of an idea that can grab attention From GMOs to outer space to foreign interventions First you gotta surf through the internet But with EbscoHost, hey homie, it’s no sweat An online database made just for you With journals, articles and recent interviews
So find the best sources to compose your evidence Carefully lookin at credibility and relevance Be sure to also cite from your stimulus materials And you’ll be loaded up like a Prince of Nigeria By the way, did you know that those scam emails from Nigerian princes are meant to be phony? So only gullible people fall for it; it’s all in Think Like a Freak, one of the summer reading options (yo that was a great read) AP Seminarrr The class’ll take you far Cause Anthony will show the way You’re gonna be a star AP Seminarrr I LOVE SEMINAR
Sail Isabel Fain I remember the water; duller than usual. The waves clashed together then slowly folded on each other to return to its original, sunken form. They were like a storm; a tranquil and silent storm. A storm that you knew even though it was rough now, it would get better in the end. I could see the waves were shadowed by the dark overcast above my little boat. I was young and inexperienced. Plus I never really had to think quick on my numb, damp feet before. I had rounded the bobbing bouee and gripped the rope in my boat a little bit tighter. My frozen fingers held tight on the salt soaked rope as I felt the wind shift and crescendo into a fury as my boat turned. The boom whipped over my head and flew to the other side of the boat. I ducked down under the fatal metal pole and rose on the opposite side. I felt something change. Something wasnâ€™t right. After a moment, I held up my hand to see the rudder handle snapped in two. My eyes grew wide and my mind froze like the icy waters I floated on. Pounding in my head began to echo as my heart started to beat rapidly. The little boat heaved and began spinning violently in circles. I scrambled to and fro in the boat as it rocked along the deathly waves. It was certain that if I didnâ€™t act now, I would find myself trapped under the depth of the lake. My mind clicked into motion. I analyzed the situation and figured that I would have to somehow stop the boat from spinning and turn it towards the finish line. From there, the wind would take over. I took a moment to pause, stop, and breathe. I told myself that I could do this. I let the misty air swallow me and I opened my eyes I didnâ€™t notice I had closed. First I threw the no longer necessary tiller to the front of the boat. Leaning off the back of the boat, I shoved my hand into the water. It pricked my hand with the freezing temperature and I remember the tough gloves that were snug around my hand absorb the salty lake and become flexible. I fumbled in the water for the rudder, and grasped the wooden mechanism. A grunt escaped by chapped lips as I pulled the rudder towards me, and the boat steadied itself. Finally, I could see the lake clearly in front of me. The sail thrashed and popped above my head. I wiped the damp strands of hair out of my face and pulled on the rope once more. My body stretched the length of the boat in desperate effort to reclaim control of my vehicle. Droplets sprayed in my face as the boat began to push forward in the choppy waters. With my hand still trying in vain not to let the rudder go, my heart rate began to slow down.
Just as I thought I could make it to the finish line, a shocking gust of wind hit my boat. My ship hit a wave on the water and my hand slipped from the rudder. The boat turned sharply towards the wind and I fell back into my boat. The boat kept turning, and since I still held the main sheet in my hand out of fear, it turned a little more. The boat creaked its final efforts to stay afloat, then gave out and toppled on its side. I was dumped into the lake. I remember the breath being sucked straight from my lungs. My already slightly wet clothing swirled around me in the water. The bone freezing water engulfed me and for a moment I thought this was it. My head broke the surface of the water and I gasped for air. My boat had never flipped over before. Luckily I was trained for what to do if it happened, but never in conditions like this. I desperately tried to push against the fighting waves to get back to my boat. As soon as my purple tinted hands reached the boat, I felt a tiny relief. My fingers moved to the daggerboard that is normally pointed into the water; it was sticking out into the cold air and gleaming brightly. With all the strength I had left, I pulled down on the board. Miraculously, it righted itself and the boat was rightside up. Mouthing a “thank you,” I swam back to the side of the boat. Now I had to get back in. I didn’t have any strength left to pull myself back into the boat on the first try. My soaked clothing was weighing me down. I remember it felt like the ocean was holding on to me and was trying to pull me down back into the water. The wind picked up and howled around me. Brown locks of hair was plastered to my face and around my eyes. In my struggle, I didn’t realize I had lost my hat. I was tired of fighting this, and with my last effort, pulled myself back into the boat. A large puddle of water greeted me as I flopped back into my boat. Next step: bail. Quickly I grabbed the large cup tied to the boat and began scooping the water out of my boat. After a few minutes of this, I could see the other sailors coming up on me fast. I dropped my pail and in one swift motion I adjusted the rope and pulled again on the rudder to point the boat towards the finish line. My boat took off through the water almost happily. Dark skies slowly became lighter when I approached the finish line. As I crossed that invisible maker that symbolized I had finished the race, a whistle blew the sound carried to my boat and it began to sink in to my brain that I had just won first place.
Burt - Click image to view video (or use https://youtu.be/7CmK2PmQ7Xw)
Faye Landers - Click image to view video (or use https://youtu.be/e31DIHqC46U)
Resilience Nicholas M. Smith In the beginning, My world was lost. Then I started winning, But at what cost. It was then that I moved, Onto the next chapter of my life. And while part of me was soothed, The other went on with strife. In a new place, Feeling like I was on my own, Thinking I needed my space, When in fact I wasn’t alone. I now live my life in peace, The pain put behind me and turned into strength. And though the past may not cease, I plan to live life to the full extent of its length.
Dark Skin Egypt Bennett White palms Dark eyes Dark skin 90s bops Plain old tops Dark skin A love for Lana No desire for drama Dark skin Jilted by a father It truly isn’t a bother Dark skin Grown by Oviedo Acceptance I won’t reach though Dark skin To be happy is a privilege A true wish in every village Dark skin Never should I complain There are others in more disdain Dark skin
Priorities Mylena Ferman This was when I realized just how deeply I had fallen in love with her. She was sitting on the couch, and the entire living room was a mess. There were books on the table, the couch, the floor; books scattered everywhere. Some were open, some were closed. I distinctly remember one was a medical book, though I had no idea why as her career was in creative writing. Though, I remember that day clearly. It was the same day I got her a ring as an early birthday present. The same day we shared a kiss under the palm tree, her lips tasted like chips and salsa. It was the very same day I told her I wished the day would never end. For her, it didn’t. That night, she stayed up and didn’t get a wink of sleep. Not that it affected her much anyways. The glasses that were perched on her nose were actually clean for once. And her brown locks (I had convinced her not to dye it for once) were up in the messiest bun you could have ever seen. To be honest, I don’t think she brushed her hair at all that week. Despite that, I couldn’t help but stare when I found her on the couch. She was so caught up in whatever she was doing that she didn’t notice me there. No, I waited and took note of all the little habits she had. Like how she always either bit her lip or stuck out her tongue when she was so focused, as she was in that moment. How her face turned serious and a little worrying. I noticed the little black dot on her cheek that her co-worker put with a sharpie because he “really wanted to give me another mole on my cheek, who was I to say no?”. And, as I watched, I realized I wanted to have many nights like this. Waking up
to find her so focused, muttering and cursing to herself as she worked on whatever she was working on. Despite the baggy shirt and tangled mess atop her head, the dark circles under her eyes and the chipping paint on her nails, she looked beautiful. She must have heard the floor creak as I leaned on the wall because she jumped and looked back. With eyes that were undoubtedly blurry, she looked over at me. I smiled and pushed off the doorway, beginning to walk over to her. “Hey babe” I murmured, sitting beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She grinned and leaned onto me, deciding to use me as a pillow as she continued working. She ignored me for about a minute as she perfected the sentence she was working on, then she looked up. “I thought you were going to sleep?” she questioned “I did.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the adorably confused look on her face. “Babe, you know I have a habit of waking up if I’m not cuddling. Besides, it’s almost sunrise. Why are you still up?” She looked at the clock in surprise and laughed. “I started doing things and forgot to sleep. You know: priorities.” It was that exact moment I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. That exact moment I knew I loved her with all my being or, as she put it, all my butt (“My butt is bigger than my heart”). But, I simply smiled and nodded, taking her paper and reading over her article. “Babe, you’re tired.” “Nu-uh!”
continues on next page
continued from previous page “You misspelled your own name.” “Oh.” “You also put Candyland instead of California.” “Oh, yeah….. I was in the mood for chocolate at that time. I’ll fix it later. Sage, darling, let’s get something to eat?”
She was beautiful, her words, her mind, her bod Everything about her drew me in. I loved the way tongue seemed to caress my name. How her eyes drank me in and made me feel like royalty no matt if I wore a gem-encrusted dress or chlorine staine rags. She was beautiful herself, despite not thinkin she was. Her hair was incredibly thick, a lovely thi to play with. Her eyes, while most people would lo at them and think ‘dull’, drew me in. They were fille with the light of her mind, swirling with hazel and yellow ideas. Her silky skin tanned easily, and yet most days it was so pale. The shape of her body,
dy. her s ter ed ng ing ook ed
despite the large stomach she always tried to hide (I told her once I would take a bite if she continued to call them ‘rolls’) “Stop staring at me like that!” She said, cutting me off from my thoughts and pushing away from me. I winced slightly as her elbow jabbed my side. I told her she was beautiful, and she flushed and stood, shaking her head. It saddened me to know she saw herself through the lens of the society she loathed. She hated it so much, yet couldn’t help but to fall into their own thoughts and mindsets from time to time. She knew it too, and she hated it even more for it. Hated herself even more for it. But none of that mattered. Not when I held her in my arms. Not when she smiled. Not when she was curled into me after a long day. No, she was so beautiful and she didn’t even know it. “Mi Luna~” I chimed happily, grinning as I made over to her. “Si, mi sol?”
“I love you~” “Ahhh…… It’s too early to be blushing! Shut up, let’s go to sleep!” With a laugh, I picked her off her feet and headed back into the room. She complained, she hated being picked up because of her weight. But, I didn’t care. I pressed my lips to her chapped ones to shut her up. She giggled into the kiss, laughing softly in joy as I kissed her neck and laid her down on the bed. “You are beautiful,” I murmured softly, brushing her hair behind her ear as I laid beside her. An arm under her head, bodies pressed together to keep warm. We had a few more hours till we had to wake, and I was going to spend it besides her. “I love you,” I murmured, smiling sleepily at her, she yawned and curled into me as a response. Sleep quickly began to overtake me, my mind slowly being swept away into a sweet darkness. I only just barely caught her words. “I love you too.”
Bryn Garick The shoes were blue, not purple like the boy with brown eyes and curly hair always told her. Secretly, he knew they were blue. He just loved the way her eyes lit up and how she bit her lip to stop from smiling when she told him he was wrong. He loved the delicate way her hands tugged her sweater sleeves between her fingers as she tried to tell him that her shoes were blue, so he just smiled and told her the shoes were purplle. They’d been together for nearly four months. Though, the most they had done was hold hands; Ellie didn’t mind though, she always wanted her first kiss to be special. After all, you only get one. They were an unlikely match, the Brainiac and the Musician. But for as much as Zeke liked watching Ellie’s eyes scrunch up as she laughed at him, he also stared in awe as she looked quizzically at her physics homework, and while Ellie adored listening to a song, what she loved even more was watching Zeke’s face light up as he stared at his favorite band on stage. “When will you accept defeat and just admit your shoes are blue?” Zeke was laughing as he asked. It was the topic he had brought up since their first date. The unexplainable cold weather of today had caused Ellie to bring out her favorite sweater, the one she tugged over her fingers when she was nervous. The record store they were standing in didn’t sell a lot of new records and their collection of used
records were mostly from the 1950s, but Zeke liked it anyway. He thought that the collection of ancient records would inspire some resurrection of early rock and roll. “I will accept defeat when my shoes get bleached and turn some shade of purple,” Ellie said with a giggle, and she grabbed the fabric of her sleeves over her hands. Zeke smiled at the action. She turned away from the grinning boy and continued to flip through the records. “Do you guys need help finding anything?” the clerk asked sounding bored. “Actually yeah, do you happen to have any new releases?” Zeke replied. The employee nodded, gesturing for Zeke to follow him. Ellie tagged along as they walked to the back of the small room. There were two milk crates full of beat up records wrapped in plastic, and a sticker on the top marked with a price ranging from five to twenty dollars. Zeke knelt by them and began to shift through the records. Ellie stood and watched him from behind. She enjoyed the way his fingers gently touched only the top of the records, and the way his eyes read each title before he thought for a moment if the record would match his collection. “What do you think about this?” he asked Ellie,
continues on next page
continued from previous page holding up a purple album with clasped hands sketched on the front. “I’ve never heard of that band,” Ellie stated simply with a shrug. “Me neither, but it reminds me of us, so it has to be good,” he said standing and passing the record for her to look at it. “My shoes are blue,” she commented. They both know the purple background was the reason it was reminiscent of their relationship. “It’s fifteen dollars.” She read the sticker. “You’re going to spend fifteen dollars on a record you don’t know anything about just because you like the cover?” Ellie asked in disbelief. She was very protective of her money, only spending it on the very essential things like gas and food. Zeke was quite the opposite, spending his money on whatever seemed fit
at the time. “Ellie, I’m going to spend fifteen dollars on something that will forever remind me of you,” he laughed. She didn’t smile, she just shook her head. “You don’t have a steady job, you can’t just spend all your money because of me,” she said, and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, you’ve made my decision clear. I’m buying the record,” he stated grabbing it from her hands gently and walking back to the front of the store. She followed, a frown now playing on her features. “I can’t believe you.” “I can’t believe you think your shoes are blue,” he said causing Ellie to laugh loudly at the subject change. He leaned in, his eyes on her lips as she laughed.
Sparks Rachael Fargo An ember sparked will softly glow, and fed by fuel will grow and grow. I once was cinder sparked by you, first timid...till the flames then grew. And so our start was touch of dawn With amber hue for I was drawn, To eyes so welcoming and warm I never guessed youâ€™d do me harm. Like morning glory love in June The rapture of mid-afternoon Romance of which the ancients wrote, Our passion had no antidote. And with the dust though scarlet tinged Our love began to come unhinged For clouds arrived which filled your eyes Extinguishing bright twilight skies With cold of night came shadows pall And i could not tear down your wall. By midnights hour the fire was dead Mere ashes smoldered in its stead You left, and should you reappear Ive vowed to shun you, now i fear The very thing for which I yearnOne touch...and then again-to burn.
page 20, 44, 53
What were you going for with your artwork?
What mood were you tryi your film?
It was kind of just mor fun mood, just somet watch because it wa something I was do watching the proc
I wanted to be a fine artist.
CARLOS EGYPT BENNETT
What was your inspiration for this p I read a writing prompt in a website that ta about immortalit
What message were you trying to send through your writing? I was trying to tell a story and that youâ€™ve got to enjoy your life.
page 49, 7
page 17, 49
What was the mood that you were going for in this drawing? I was going for a bit of a joyful mood, but it would contrast with the shades of blue that I used, because even though blue is mainly seen as a gloomy, sad color, I kind of wanted to create create a contrasting mood by having an energetic picture.
page 10-11, 26-27, 52, 69
ing to put in to
re like a thing fun to as a creation, oing, and cess.
S CHAVEZ page 14
What do these pictures mean to you? It means that I can go further into it, and actually get somewhere in life.
piece? alked ty.
page 7, 50-51, 61, 64, 70 What emotions are you trying to make the readers feel in your story? I was trying to have them be put into my shoes and kind of to make them feel panic, as well as the sense of like overcoming the conflict, and really feel that relief and stress, both in the story and after reading and during the conflict.
ABBY FRENCH page 62, 68
Title of Work, page 8
Is your poetry somehow directly connected to your life at home or at school?
As an artist, what does th mean to you?
“They way i see it as a a personal feeling, ph is more like express pcture is directly co your life.”
Yeah. Most this poem. Specifically, but most of the poetry, I write is about my mom and she passed away like when I was five.
What message were you trying to send i writ
What mood were you going for with your writing?
I don’t really know if there was a message, I was just trying to make a cute scene.
I was going for a very fluff type of mood, very intimate, cute, soft parts of the relationship.
NICOLE H page 13
ETHAN FIELDS & BEN ROBINSON
What emotions are you trying to make the audience feel? The joy in there, but also it’s like some serious introspection, like really what’s the point of this and what’s the point of me. What message are you trying to send?
To demonstrate that AP Seminar was a worthwhile experience for students.
It’s kin like a way
an artist is as hotography sing how this onnected to
What was the mood you were going for with your story? I was kind of just doing it for fun. What was your inspiration for your artwork? It was a piece that I did for decoration because it was Halloween.
in your ting?
es your art mean to you as the artist?
nd of like each thing I draw is almost a step for me, like me improving, in a y, and conveying something important.
What was the mood of your piece? I was trying to put in a lot of symbolism and kind of mood of almost, I don’t want to say necessarily angst, but it’s it’s kind of angsty.
What was your history with drawing and what got you into it? I started drawing because of “My Little Pony” and I actually started sketching in third grade. Another thing that got me into sketching and drawing is different shows.
SAMANTHA OUTEN page 66
What does this peice mean to you as an artist? This peice was a collaboration that I did through my piano studio, Blakemore School of Music, and it meant a lot to me because as a solo pianist I didn’t get much of an opportunity to play with other musicians, so this was an amazing opportunity.
What does the sculpture as an artist?
It’s not like any other p I’ve worked towards. of me that wants to artist. It’s connecte pieces that I’ve m far this one was t
What is the mood you were going for wi artw
page 29, 54
I wanted to create a piece that was inspiring, by showing life and beauty in the dark.
page 8, 72
How is this work related your to your life? I guess it’s just a reflection of another way to express myself. And what does the art mean to you as the artist? For some of the pieces, they can relate it to slavery.
It was photo in d
N JAKE REED
page 12, 75
mean to you
project that Itâ€™s a part become an ed with other made, but by the biggest.
25, 28, 48
My inspiration was glitchy and when people hide behind a mask, and when you take off that mask you may not know how to react so you kind of glitch out in a way. The message I was trying to send is that people usually hide behind mask and its kind of scary to take them off.
ith this work?
s the inspiration for this photo?
me and Lexy Wolfe out on a oshoot, just having fun taking pictures downtown Orlando.
What was the mood you were going for with this artwork? I wanted it to be really dark and dreary. What were your reasons for only using black and white colors? I thought it would make the things contrast really well, and make the colors pop, so you can see whatâ€™s going on better.
SUE THAI page 80
What message are you tr through this picture?
Enjoy every moment in look at things around appreciate it, and yo is much more beau
How is this drawi related to your l
This is a paint garden, and i close conne
RAPHAEL NICHOLAS SMITH
What was the mood you were going for wit artw
Realistic. What were you trying to show through this piece? What Socrates looked like.
What is the mood you were going for? I was going for realistic, and kind of gritty. It wasn’t supposed to be all glorified and glamourfied in a sense, it was supposed to be like, ‘This is the reality of my life when going through certain situations and going through high anxiety situations.’ This is what I feel like, this isn’t something happy, and it’s not something to be proud of, it’s just what happens.
What emo audienc
When sen I ju c
rying to send
n your life, d you, and ou will see life utiful.
ing directlly life?
ting of my it has a really ection to me.
L THORP page 78
th your work?
3, 32-33, 35, 76
otions are you trying to make the ce feel when looking at your pictures?
What did the photo mean to you as the person who took it? To me it was set up, like that one was of a goose and I singled it out to where the back was in it, and it showed the oneness of the goose and how the goose, by itself, can make everything else really nice.
page 8, 15, 36, 45, 54, 55
n I draw, I don’t go for like the nsitive-type look or touchy-feely look. ust go for like, ‘Hey, that’s pretty creative.’
Oviedo High School
Spring 2018 Oviedo High School