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JOURNAL OF VISUAL ARTS AND CREATIVE WRITING

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JOURNAL OF VISUAL ARTS AND CREATIVE WRITING 2013-2014 recipient of Silver American Advertising Federation Award for Magazine Design

Lynchburg College 2014-2015 Department of Art http://www.lynchburg.edu/art

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IN MEMORIAM

1992-2014

The Art Department and the Aurous staff dedicates the

2014-2015 Aurous publication to Chelsea Meager. Chelsea was a Biology major and an Art minor at Lynchburg College. Known for her infectious smile, positive outlook, and significant artistic abilities, Chelsea will always be remembered.

Top left image: Not Titled by Chelsea Meager

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Art Director & Editor I Ella Schwarz Creative Writing Director & Editor I Erin Gough Art Assistant I Adrian Walker Creative Writing Assistant I Meredith Kurzweil Graphic Design Representative I Shannon Brockley Studio Art Representative I Kelvin Whitehurst Photographers I Adrian Walker & Taylor Haney

Faculty Advisor I Beverly Rhoads Literary Advisor I Laura Marello

A Special Thanks to I Michael Jones Rita Detwiler LC Art Department Dr. Delane Karalow Richard Pumphrey Siobhan Byrns Allison Wilkins Ursula Bryant

Copyright 2015 Art Department, Lynchburg College First North American serial rights revert back to the authors after publication


ART DIRECTOR’S NOTE

For the fifth edition of the Aurous, our goal was to showcase our visual

and literary arts together. Our purpose for combining the two arts is to enhance the visual experience of the reader and to feature the students, who excel in both disciplines. This publication serves to showcase work from the 2014-2015 year. My hope for this year’s Aurous is to enhance the experience of the reader and inspire other artists.

CREATIVE WRITING DIRECTOR’S NOTE

In its fifth year, the Aurous continues to showcase visual pieces as well

as creative writing ones. We pair these two artistic disciplines together in order to show an appreciation for different types of art, and to highlight talented Lynchburg College students. This year’s creative writing selections reveal a wide range of poetic forms—from villanelle’s to free verse. I hope that you as the reader will find the breadth of artistic work and the pairing of the literary with the visual enjoyable, engaging, and inspiring.

Cover Art: Yellow Tail by Adrian Walker

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TABLE OF CONTENTS 8 | chelsea stern, Millennial Romance 9 | kat zvara, Believe in Faries 10 & 11 | hunter goan, Obscuridad 12 | adrian walker, Yellow Tail 13 | shannon brockley, Vertical Life Branding 14 | ethan lee, Love like a Cigarette 15 | chelsea meager, Not Titled 16 | miranda melton, Break to Freedom 17 | azaria brown, The Story of Jezebel 18 | kat zvara, That Guy 19 | azaria brown, The Story of Jezebel 20 & 21 | amber ingram, The Roommate Ate his Brain 22 | lynnze watkins, Stairs 23 & 24 | deirdre scanlon, Always Already 25 | miranda melton, Untitled 26 | ella schwarz, Insomnia 27 | adrian walker, The Anatomy


TABLE OF CONTENTS 28 | evah workman, Angst 29 | ella schwarz, The Ebb of You 30 & 31 | hunter goan, Decay 32 | teresa gunter, Untitled 33 & 34 | erin gough, Leading up to Pickup Lines 35 | katie mix, Fields of Gettysburg 36 | amber ingram, Cats Outnumber Humans 37 | rachel wilson, Untitled 38 | olivia cesafsky, Untitled 39 & 40 | deirdre scanlon, Bikrim 41| katie mix, Born Free 42 | amber ingram, Chemical Regulations 43 & 44 | ethan lee, Ten Seconds at a Time 45 | adrian walker Balloons 46 | molly carr, Untitled 47 | erin gough, Lucy, Trying to be Good 48 | shannon brockley, Be Wiser 49 | amber ingram, Personal Branding

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MILLENNIAL ROMANCE Chelsea Stern They spritz perfume and curl their hair, they strap on heels they shouldn’t wear, a shot then two one beer or four, there’s no hard limit- they will drink more.

The squeals are loud their limbs they flail, they grind their hips against strangers to no avail, the rooms are dark and time is lost, I hear it’s fun but at what cost.

I spend my night alone in bed, reading books I’ve already read, while imagining the scene just down the street, where people disappear into rooms right after they meet.

And I tend to feel quite out of place, like no one understands, that I don’t want my young romantic life to consist of drunken one night stands.

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BELIEVE IN FAIRIES Kat Zvara 35mm film photography

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OSCURIDAD Hunter Goan conte on paper

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YELLOW TAIL Adrian Walker graphic design

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VERTICAL LIFE BRANDING Shannon Brockley package design

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LOVE LIKE A CIGARETTE Ethan Lee Love like a cigarette, hot and fast. Killing softly and slowly. Watch each lover disappear quicker than the smoke but feel their presence in the way their scent cloaks you and the way their taste lingers on lips once they’re gone. Love like summer’s thunderless rain, hot and fast. Early mornings with windows open when the entirety of the world is in rhythm with the droplets above your bedroom and the rise and fall of breath beneath sheets. Love like the sun loves shade, hot and fast. Able to rest easy on the brink of blindness, still knowing when to leave shadow behind. Love innocently, like you did your childhood ghosts. When the bumps in the night were more than water heaters. When imaginary and wrong were labels only those who outgrew themselves used.

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NOT TITLED Chelsea Meager collagraph

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BREAK TO FREEDOM Miranda Melton mixed media

TITLE Name Here

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THE STORY OF JEZEBEL Azaria Brown

She walks in long strides With the confidence of a super model Flowers wilt in her presence And bow, doing a hunch-backed dance Spreading pollen like confetti She doesn’t have allergies. Her mother before her was just the same Introducing her to so many uncles She could build a fence of brothers around her home After awhile they were no longer uncles They were Misters that growled drunken slurs from the bases of their throats And called it gospel. At the drop of a hat she’d become a doctor Pasting bandages on skin Gathering pieces of her mother’s scarred soul And shoving them back in her body Before long she knew the smell of burning flesh And what it felt like to be alone It was a feather floating in the Atlantic

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THE STORY OF JEZEBEL Azaria Brown

Bobbing with the laughter of lunacy It was the emptiness of a room Haunted by the ghosts of those that were once there. She was a mess of angles and parallel lines Her world made up of geometry Her clothes splattered with reactions As she glides down the sidewalk She rides their bursts of attention like ocean waves Her fingertips scorched with lessons learned Her life drawn in faded scrawl. She is not a slur She is a lady And she will be treated as such.

THAT GUY Kat Zvara graphic design

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THE ROOMMATE ATE HIS BRAIN Amber Ingram digital illustration

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STAIRS Lynnze Watkins digital photography

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ALWAYS ALREADY Deirdre Scanlon

It started with Orestes on trial in the clouds. It started with matricide. It started with the fury of the Erinnyes created to avenge

slain mothers, daughters, maidens.

It started with Athena, the god-like goddess with gray eyes. It started with thunderbolts, bribes, and veiled threats. It started with an acquittal, a man set free,

a mother dead.

It started with the Furies renamed. It started with an affair. It started with Aegisthus and Clytemnestra

and her husband Agamemnon.

It started with a return from war and a plot for power. It started with a cloth net over face, blood

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ALWAYS ALREADY Deirdre Scanlon

in water. It started with a husband murdered,

his woman: killer.

It started with Orestes avenging Agamemnon’s death. It started with her son avenging his father. It started with unfavorable winds. It started with Agamemnon’s sacrifice,

Clytemnestra’s loss.

It started with their daughter’s blood on her father’s hands. It started with a war caused by Helen’s beauty. It started with a marriage forced upon her. It started with Clytemnestra’s rape. It started with a woman. It started some time.

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UNTITLED Miranda Melton mixed media

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INSOMNIA Ella Schwarz collagraph

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THE ANATOMY Adrian Walker graphic design

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THE EBB OF YOU Ella Schwarz

I desire your wholeness and radiance. I hunger for your voice: a sand dollar tumbling on moss—dispersing your fragrance. I suspire for gravelling fire and your saccharine honey squeezed into the depths of me. Feathery-light breeze, your taste haunts— dances on my tongue. Your aphotic breaths fill my atmosphere; increasing my wants. I hunger for the fevery weather of your body, which radiates in waves. I am blind feeling, fumbling for—in your maze. Your moonlit skin fizzles and caves— Diffuses into a different realm when I part eyelids and awake alone.

ANGST Evah Workman oil painting

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DECAY Hunter Goan ink & charcoal

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UNTITLED Teresa Gunter watercolor

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LEADING UP TO PICKUP LINES Erin Gough

So there’s this: he’s the kind of boy who likes to think he likes philosophy. But then he goes and mixes scalene triangles --used them instead of equilaterals. And how on Earth do you confuse those two? He likes to say he knows the Greats: Descartes, Pascal, and Plato turn him on, and he agrees with Hobbes, he says. He’s deep. He’s read Thoreau, he’s annotated Hawking’s points, he forces lisping lips, his teeth profess his novel individuality.

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LEADING UP TO PICKUP LINES Erin Gough

and he compares himself to Newton. All alone among the masses, he leans back and posits shades to be subjective, thinks cheap water bottles out of being like he thinks he’s been the first to say things like cogito ergo sum. All this so that in bars when pretty girls are there he can walk in like Hemingway (he’s glanced), like Zeus and whisper nothings like as hot as Eve in Milton’s verse and God plays dice tonight, your eyes are blue as Pertrachan’s ideal —until the blond martini drinker gives, accepts the hand proffered.

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FIELDS OF GETTYSBURG Katie Mix digital photography

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CATS OUTNUMBER HUMANS Amber Ingram digital illustration

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UNTITLED Rachel Wilson oil paint

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UNTITLED Olivia Cesafsky ink on paper

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BIKRAM Deirdre Scanlon

On Monday mornings, I wake early, dress myself in tight clothes, ones that show my ribs in mirrored walls when arms stretch over head, with hands entwined and fingers pointed. Heat and water fills the air and settles down on tired limbs that kneel by windows stained with color. Says: skin to bones, fingertips to toes and watches bodies make boxes while pressing, lock your knees, lock your knees, lock your knees and breathe – in and out through your nose – with smi’ling faces turned upward. The part that’s hardest: stilling minds from racing out-

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BIKRAM Deirdre Scanlon

side hallowed walls. Just rest your body down as quick as hands meet floor. Let blood flow back to what you’ve cut off. Stare at ceiling spots and take a moment; recognize how you feel—let it go. Peace rests like lavender cool towels against dripping foreheads – seeps inwards, finds footing, settles. Stay as long as you can, here in meditation. When she leaves, we exhale prayer: Namasté.

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BORN FREE Katie Mix digital photography

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CHEMICAL REGULATIONS Amber Ingram digital illustration

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TEN SECONDS AT A TIME Ethan Lee

The neighbor’s kid keeps trying to speak to me. 8 years old, waits for me at the end of his driveway like a mailbox. “Today I got this bracelet. Jenny said she would be my friend forever if I wore it” And the door shuts behind me and that’s my mail for the day. He is there the next day, bracelet on wrist, magic marker scrawled on his hand that spells b f f “Today Jenny and I drew in art class. We ran out of paper though” and the door shuts behind me and that’s my mail for the day.

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TEN SECONDS AT A TIME Ethan Lee

I don’t know why I remember his life more than I do my own. Why I can remember the name of his class pet snake, Hank. I think about my neighbor’s kid waiting, updating me on his 8 year old life 10 seconds at a time. When I was on vacation in Seattle last year he must have waited all night, an unopened mailbox, flag up ears up Does he know the sound of my car? Today he wasn’t there waiting for me. There was just a bracelet in my mailbox and a moving truck next door. And the door shuts behind me, and the door shuts.

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BALLOONS ON SAN IGNAZIO (POZZO’S THE GLORIFICATION OF ST. IGNATIOUS) Adrian Walker digital photography

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UNTITLED Molly Carr sharpie on newsprint

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LUCY, TRYING TO BE GOOD Erin Gough At church I offer up myself, destruction, and the fall— this mournful gloom for that celestial light? I think about if Lucifer was justified at all in his adolescent rebellion. Like any post-blind Paul I send up broken prayers: poems memorized, songs, my ways out at church. I offer up my self-destruction—and the fall, wasn’t that destruction of the same type? We crawl towards imperfection like snakes in the grass. We doubt if Lucifer was just. Defied a tall God, sure, but sacrificed himself for the thrall of lesser angels with him. He was the strength. So I pout at church and offer up myself. Destruction and the fall have nothing to do with this song. I do not call upon the angels. I won’t ask the devout if Lucifer was just. If I’d at all felt my heart speed up when the others were enthralled, if I’d felt something when he talked about mercy and the drought at church, I’d offer up myself, destruction, and the fall, even if Lucifer was justified, at all.

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BE WISER Shannon Brockley graphic design

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SELF-BRANDING Amber Ingram graphic design

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Department of Art

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Aurous: Journal of Visual Arts and Creative Writing  

Lynchburg College's student-run Creative magazine dedicated to publishing exceptional student art and creative writing.

Aurous: Journal of Visual Arts and Creative Writing  

Lynchburg College's student-run Creative magazine dedicated to publishing exceptional student art and creative writing.

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