hey, you’re in
LUCK!
34 A HARSH TRUTH by Kurtis Sawyer
35 I JUST WANT TO BE PICKED by Emilie McKnight
37 LUCKY, TO ME, IS... by Shiyi Zhou
38 THE BECKONING CAT: TAROT CARD SERIES by Alexis Tien-Chow
39 MAYBE IT WASN’T LUCK, OR THE UNIVERSE HAD OTHER PLANS by Sarah Anne Biscaro
40 GOOD FORTUNE by Anastasia Brovkina
41 MOVE by Ella White
43 CATCH by Stephanie Auw
44 UNTITLED (ANNIKA) by Ashley Cheng
45 COMEDY by Graciella Rosary
47 UNTITLED by Roxy Lewon
48 TRANS JOY by Bella Martin
49 ASYMMETRICAL GAPS BETWEEN ‘I LOVE YOU’ AND ‘GOODBYE’ by Nipuli Ranatunga
50 YEAR OF THE SNAKE by Clara Kathleen
51 ON THE PROBABILITY OF AN IDEAL ENDGAME by Vy Le
52 ECLECTICALLY LUCKY by Shamrah Sable
53 MERANTAU, MENJARING (TO WANDER, TO CATCH) by Abi Simatupang
55 CAPTURED LUCK by Lily Yang
57 OH NO! by Lauren James
58 SLEIGHT OF HAND by Jignya Warrier
59 BELOVED BITS & PIECES by Felicia Krisno and Olivia Hanif 60 SWARM by Vanessa Bolinger
61 ALWAYS by Maeve Stinson
63 “LUCK FROM THE SKY” CHEMO SERIES #1 by Ricardo Izeta
64 LUCKY ME by Kara Mia Roxas
LUCKY 7
[2025]
digital collage
All my life I had been considered unlucky by others—from being left handed to my zodiac sign. The only thing that I had found to be lucky was the number seven. I clung to that, desperately. I learned to not let others define my luck by traits I could not change, but define my own luck in my life.
kiana allan
THE ONLY SIN
THAT BRINGS NO PLEASURE
digital illustration
The sign of the horns is an Italian gesture used to ward off bad luck, or the evil eye. This “malevolent gaze” is said to be cast by an envious person: is envy something to be feared then, rather than desired?
YEAR 4 COMMUNICATION DESIGN [2024]
While I don’t believe in the cosmic power of the evil eye, I believe that these superstitions inform the way we present ourselves or interact with one another. The title of this piece reflects the anxieties one might experience living with these sensibilities.
jessica ruffolo
PETAL PORTAL
Petal Portal is an ephemeral wearable artwork composed of rose petals, which were dipped in beeswax and attached to each other with metal rings into a chainmail form—a symbol of preservation and adornment. Bodies are portals through which human consciousnesses can connect, and this work asks what it means to adorn such a portal with a material that is temporarily preserved, and momentarily held together.
Making this piece involved endless repair throughout repeated breakage, which required me to trust the nature of chance and believe that the petals would somehow produce a strong form. Through luck and care, the fragility of the petals transformed into a structural piece.
shelly kositsky mixed
LUCKY FISH
[2025]
SO
LUCKY
The skin surrounding where it lodged its teeth is pink and squishy. It hurts more than I care to admit. In the morning I am sharply aware of it, by evening it is a dull throb. I don’t complain though. I am the luckiest girl alive.
The day I found it was a gloomy and hopeless one. I had paused by the patch of green on my way to work, the same as I did every day. Squatted, raked my hands through the tangles a few times, tried not to feel bitter towards the dozens of three-leaved clovers winking up at me. Still, the familiar disappointment was beginning to settle in when I saw it: wide symmetrical petals blooming from the centre of the patch. A trembling thing more perfect–more whole–than the others.
The rain stopped, the dread ebbed; I could see a beautiful future unfurling before me. I would quit my job, I would move somewhere warm, I would tell my family I love them and they would accept me for who I am. All my wishes were about to come true. Then it sprung upwards and bit me on the ankle.
On closer inspection I discovered that its underside was covered in rows of white teeth. I pried at the edges with my fingers, but the green skin was fragile and I worried about losing a leaf. Despite the shock of it, and the little trickle of blood that ribboned into my sock, the elation remained. I wore it home and that night my dreams were full of everything that was about to be.
Now that some weeks have passed, the shiny newness of it has worn off somewhat. Still, I have not lost hope, far from it. I glimpse it every time I tie my shoes, and in the shower when I hang my head. I would peel it off for a moment if I could, just to get a break from the ache of it, but no more than a moment. It is everything I wanted and more. Whenever I get the chance, I scroll through the channels and the ads for a sign.
Any day now, my luck is going to change.
YEAR 4 VISUAL ARTS
I approached the painting like it was a collage and puzzle. I created the artwork using fluorescent paints and graphic drawings.
GL OW
christina kim painting
BUNNY &
digital illustration [2025] chih chi chen
YEAR 4 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @CHITOPIA.77
Bunny & Lucky is a whimsical, risograph-inspired illustration that captures the cozy magic of a girl and her beloved bunny. With soft, earthy tones and playful lines, this charming illustration showcases the peaceful moment of the girl lying contentedly on top of her gentle rabbit companion.
YEAR 2 INDUSTRIAL DESIGN @FUNKYSPRITE
eliana nicole carlos
KNICKKNACKS
[2024] mixed media on wooden skateboard deck
This skateboard project is an amalgamation of things that piqued my interest during the time I was making it. The random illustrated elements and found objects were left up to chance, to which its final composition was a wonderful surprise of its own. By choosing to let loose and be inspired by objects found in free bins, the term “knick-knacks” brings them all together.
Every time things fall into place for us, I always say, “we’re just lucky gals”. And in those moments, I believe luck shines its brightest when our paths cross again.
phyllis cheung
YEAR 3 COMMUNICATION DESIGN
APPLE OF MY EYE
I WISH I WERE AN ISOPOD
YEAR 4 VISUAL ARTS @SKYLARJADEART
skylar jade
Created using silicone for three dimensional texture and oil paint for rich colours, I Wish I Were An Isopod reflects on an idealized spineless existence.
the drum on my chest beats rapidly that sunny day. tips of my fingers surged electrical, back of my legs stretched too far.
this is my second attempt at the run. if i fuck this one up, i wouldn’t be able to ho home and rest. i’ll need to beg him to boost my already miserable grades past the 75% mark.
so i ran. i ran, ran, ran, ran.
and i reached the end 10 seconds too late.
“sialan, g beruntung gw.” 3
his eyes looked down towards my 10-year-old teary face, disappointment flushed his skin. he silently marked his paper red, and told me:
“kalau begini aja engga bisa, nantinya mau gimana coba?” 4 outside of that class, I was adored by all of my friends. I was the best writer, and illustrator, and painter, and pianist, and singer, and scientist, and that, and this, and this and that, andthisandthatandthisandthatandthisandthat.
but every time the bells rang for sports, i go weak in the knees and my arms flail in the air. since i was 5, i was told my ass was “too heavy to run fast” by the adults. and my legs’ motoric skills was just shit; nothing i can do about that. and my grandpa died from a heart attack, so i will too if i run too hard.
so i listen to the beats of my heart. even if i’ll fail now, i’ll survive by the beats of my heart.
1 Luck.
2 Heart.
3 “Shit, I’m unlucky
4 “If you can’t even do this, how would you do anything later?” All translations are done from Indonesian.
[2025] editorial
UNTUNG1, IN 3 SENTIMENTS
abi simatupang
YEAR 3 COMMUNICATION DESIGN
@ABELBERITH
02, gantung 5
another medal got hung in my honor. another painting got hung on the wall. another picture got hung by my parents’ door.
my name is decorated with achievements 5 feet taller than me. reminders that i can always do more, more, more
so i believed that that’s all it takes. and i never really understood why others can’t just… “do more.”
one night my nanny, 8 years older than me, snuck me out of the house. she was 21 then, i was 13. i was crying that night, kept telling myself i was not doing enough; she thought a bag of cireng6 would cheer me up.
as we bit the forbidden cloud, she listened silently to me. little did i know then that she never had a medal to hang, even if she did “more.”
she wished she could, but how could she if by 15 she was no longer in school?
her “more” would not result in the same medals, same paintings, same pictures. her more would result in adulthood that came too early, in the form of low-paid child labor.
and even after living that, she would kindly say to me:
“kamu beruntung kok. masih bisa gagal.” 7
so i hang my medals with caution and care.
03, puntung 8
the ashes from father’s lit cigarette hits the ground, as a huff of pitch black smoke comes out of his mouth. his eyes look sunken by the midnight. i peeked from behind the glass door, waiting for him to come back in.
i saw the same pitch black puffs coming from my 15-year-old friend. the smell of slow death was strong from her words, as she chuckles and says,
“kalau kena paru itu genetik doang. gw beruntung kok, babeh gw ngerokok ampe sekarang engga sakit apa-apa.” 9
her eyes were sinking similarly to my dad in his 30s. he was diagnosed with diabetes in his 40s.
now in my early 20s, i check on everyone i’ve ever known, including her and her cigarettes. last i heard she’s somewhere trying shrooms, weed, lsd; always high, never hitting earth. i’m inclined to see her with half an eye to the side, but i remind myself—
—when you’ve seen 10 adults in a smoke-tinted room, you accept that as the only reality.she never had the chance to hit the ground.
it gives you no room to realize what could be different.
5 Hang.
6 Fried tapioca flour balls, a delicacy in many parts of Java, Indonesia.
7 “You are lucky. You can still fall.”
8 Butt of a cigarette.
9 “Lung problems [from smoking] are genetic. Don’t worry about it, I’m lucky, my dad’s still smoking yet he has no health problems.”
00, untung-untungan 10
nothing happens without leaving a mark. not a cigarette without its ashes, not the heart without its blood, not the lottery without crumpled paper. every action comes with its consequence, and every consequence comes from its actions.
“hidup itu jangan pernah untung-untungan.” 11
10 Hit-or-miss
11 “Don’t live life based soley on luck.”
YEAR 4 ILLUSTRATION MELESTARIKAN
kelly hardi
KISAH BUDAYA
[2024] digital illustration
@BYKELLYHARDI
This booklet explores seven Chinese-Indonesian superstitions that shaped my understanding of heritage, luck, and belonging. In reflecting on these customs, I uncovered not just the habits themselves, but how they anchored me to family and tradition. Through illustrations and reflections, these pages honor the rituals that shaped me while prompting me to reconsider what I wish to carry forward.
This is a photo taken in the past summer of 2024 at a Buddhist temple in Hangzhou, China. Traditionally, Koi fish has always been a symbol of luck and prosperity. With the theme of this issue, this was the first image that came to my mind. With the fast pace of our current lives, this is a reminder to slow down and take it steady.
“ 禅 ” ZEN
[2024] collage
garlyal
3 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @ST4RCHIILD
WISH YOU THE BEST
LUCKIEST TYPE
[2024] working typeface + risograph poster
I created the Luckiest Type on a software called Glyphs, and it is inspired by my handwriting & of course, luck. I think it is quite fun to have my handwriting & symbols of luck easily accessible for all of my design needs.
luca jacoe
YEAR 4 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @LUJACOE
These photographs were made while I was thinking about daydreams. I am always daydreaming or making up hypothetical scenarios in my mind. I feel lucky to have time to be in my mind and to be able to create work that reflects those daydream spaces that I feel. [2024] digital photography
RISM
WOVEN WITH
In the heart of a South Indian village, where the sun kissed the rice fields golden, there lived a sparrow named Chittu. She was no ordinary sparrow—she was a weaver. Unlike the other birds who made nests in the trees, Chittu built her home with the finest silk threads stolen from the looms of the village weavers. Her nest shimmered in the morning light, a delicate tapestry of gold and green.
Chittu believed that luck could be woven, that with the right threads, she could craft a life without misfortune. She collected pieces of turmeric-stained cloth for prosperity, fragments of jasmine-scented garlands for good fortune, and even a scrap of a bride’s saree, believing it would bring endless joy.
One evening, as she flitted through the village, she overheard an old woman whispering to a child, “You see, kanna, life is like kolam. Sometimes the rice flour spreads unevenly, sometimes the ants come before the design is complete. But that’s alright. A new pattern begins the next day.”
The child frowned. “But shouldn’t it always be perfect, Paati?”
Paati chuckled, smoothing the child’s hair. “A kolam is never meant to last forever. We draw it every morning with rice flour so even the smallest ant can eat it. It fades, gets smudged, disappears underfoot… and yet, we always draw it again. Life is the same, kanna. You cannot trap luck in perfect lines.”
Chittu scoffed. Why leave things to fate when she could shape her own destiny? She would weave the perfect nest, a sanctuary untouched by bad luck.
For weeks, Chittu worked tirelessly. No storm would shake her, no gust of wind would topple her home. But as she finished the final stitch, she noticed something strange.
Her shadow, once a faithful companion on the ground, was gone.
At first, she felt relieved. Perhaps her shadow had carried all her misfortunes away. She soared over the fields, feeling lighter than ever. Her days were easy—she never lost a feather to a predator’s claws, never struggled to find food. Her nest was the most envied in the village.
But soon, something felt… off. When she danced in the wind, there was no dark twin mimicking her joy. When she landed, she felt untethered, as if she didn’t truly belong to the earth.
The worst part? The other sparrows no longer visited.
“You are too perfect, Chittu,” one finally admitted. “There’s nothing unexpected about you. You always win, always know where to find food, always stay safe. What stories will we tell at sunset if you have nothing to stumble over?”
THE WIND
[2025] editorial
Chittu’s feathers ruffled. Wasn’t this what she wanted? A life without uncertainty?
One evening, a storm rolled in. The wind howled through the village, tearing leaves from the trees. Chittu perched in her perfect nest, unbothered. She had woven it to withstand anything.
But then—a gust of wind carried a single red thread into her nest. It was coarse, unlike the silk she had collected, and looked like it had been yanked from an old, well-worn dhoti.
Chittu frowned. This wasn’t part of her nest. She picked it up in her beak, ready to toss it into the storm.
Then, she hesitated. Something about it felt… warm. Familiar. Alive. A reminder of the messy, unpredictable world she had shut out.
For the first time in weeks, she let something unplanned stay. And as the storm quieted, the morning sun stretched across the village—and there, on the ground beneath her, was her shadow.
Chittu didn’t change her entire nest. She still wove beauty, still collected silken threads. But now, she allowed a few stray feathers to remain. A misplaced grain of rice. An uneven strand of cotton.
And when the other sparrows returned, they found Chittu not just with a perfect nest, but with stories. Stories of winds that carried unexpected gifts. Of small struggles that turned into songs. Of shadows that weren’t burdens, but companions.
One day, the child from the village saw Chittu and pointed. “Paati, look! That sparrow is carrying a piece of an old dhoti in her nest!”
Paati smiled. “Ah, she has learned. Luck isn’t in perfection, kanna. It’s in the spaces where the rice flour smudges, where the ants walk through the kolam. It’s in the stories we tell, in the shadows that dance beside us.”
Chittu listened, and this time, she understood.
Because luck, she realized, wasn’t something to weave—it was something to notice, like a kolam that changed with the morning breeze, imperfect but full of life.
*kolam - a pattern drawn using rice flour paste, in front of the doorsteps of south indian households.
janice tsai
This photograph of an oriental magpie was taken in Shilin District in Taiwan. In Taiwanese culture, the oriental magpie symbolizes joy, good luck, and positive news—a sentiment reflected in its Chinese name, 喜鵲, where “喜” means happiness. Though I’m not superstitious, I felt incredibly lucky to witness this beautiful bird and capture its image. Strangely enough, the rest of my day unfolded beautifully, as if the magpie had truly brought me a bit of luck.
YEAR 2 PHOTOGRAPHY
@JANICETSAI_PHOTOGRAPHY
WINGED FORTUNE
[2024] photography
THE HUG
[2025] digital illustration
This detailed piece is dedicated to my partner, and to all the people in my life who bring warmth to my daily life. I am endlessly lucky.
grace hattrup
YEAR 3 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @ARTHATTS
U N T I T L E D
[2024] mixed media
Dominoes, much like humans, represent the choices we make in life. We choose to confront cycles whether positive or negative that we believe we can handle. Yet, once a decision is set in motion, it creates momentum that becomes difficult to stop. This reflects the nature of our existence, where actions often lead to inevitable outcomes, revealing the essence of who we are and the continuous ripple effect of our choices. jun baek YEAR 4 VISUAL
[2024] mixed media
YEAR 3 VISUAL ARTS @NIKIKARIMALI
I made this painting when I was very confused mentally and found a lot of solace in playing with painting techniques and sketches. I tend to be very planned out in all the art I create, but this one came from that place of play. I’m surprised at how it turned out. I was initially worried I wouldn’t like it with all the risk I took to create it, but I got lucky and it all came together.
niki karimali
[2024] oil painting
I painted this piece after returning from a solo trip to California this past spring. I was feeling very inspired and lucky to have met many new friends and gained new experiences that I wouldn’t otherwise if I didn’t impulsively decided to travel. I felt as though this trip was the start of reshaping myself and becoming something new; I’ve created this distorted self portrait as a commemoration of that feeling.
YEAR 3 VISUAL ARTS @FRIENDLY.FERNS
katja dutchyshen
[2024] painting
DEEP END
cochise seitcher
YEAR 3 VISUAL @HAAKWAYIIHARTS
In my culture, the evil eye pendant is a powerful symbol of luck. Almost everyone wears an evil eye necklace or pendant—it’s a superstition meant to protect against misfortune and the envious gaze of others.
E V I L E Y E
THE WING THAT LETS A FEATHER FALL OVER THE GREAT PLAINS
The eagle is the strongest and most powerful bird. Eagle flies the closest to creator. Eagle feathers represent strength, resilience, & are used medicinally. I wrote this poem in collaboration with my hometown, Saskatoon, SK.
It knows nothing about you. It feels like stranded From where we stand we can see the whole province
At the petrol cathedral
The one for the charter trucks; the truck stop preachers Who sing the prayers of atoms and make black angels who fly There is no consoling
Oh no! My body has no outlines! It’s shit like this that makes me worry that my heart isn’t scared. Would you ever even pick up a feather?
I imagine I am a crow straddling achromic worlds It’s opium, the bargain we made.
The screaming white that canopies the Dené
You know, the white you like to ignore?
Carbon burning in the dark wilds
You fucked divine order. You bent over god, and you fucked his order.
You die like an animal.
I saw you from behind when you kissed the motel bible I hated you for it then, I wished someone could see it.
O,
His devouring star, Linger Linger, and melt me into naked boilerplate peace a sickened juvenile mulch Hallowed be
And it’s just biological fact, you know. That everything melts.
A long flat place, the nothing is what scares me. and that’s what makes it sacred. Because
O, you
Pioneer squatter, you. blackened lung it spurs on the mist in the inbetween. You have to stand still to hear the spirit breath;
It could always be a solipsistic fantasy. But then, by the windshield-wipe of his wings Eagle clears the mist
Melting desires into smoke.
[2025] poetry
YEAR 3 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @SPROUTBUNNIE.PNG
kurtis
YEAR 4 ILLUSTRATION
@WORMRODEO
This piece represents the resilience of transformation and serves as a symbol of renewal and the magic of luck. Created during a challenging period in my life, its bright, vibrant, and chaotic energy has been both a beacon of hope and an anchor to my reality. The style is carefree and playful, with elements of childlike whimsy. The bold layering of pencil crayon and marker harkens back to a time of carefree joy, when luck felt like a magical experience to behold.
A H ARS H T R U
sawyer [2024] marker + pencil crayon
I JUST WANT
Using various materials such as fabric, wire and foam, I JUST WANT TO BE PICKED is a soft sculpture representing a muted green landscape covered with four-leaf clovers. My art practice frequently embodies nature and the narrative that can come from it, so I wanted to incorporate this repeating motif within my piece.
Healing can be an on-and-off and isolating process. Not being chosen and having that sense of belonging can cause one to feel as though they are unlucky and unwanted compared to everyone else; as if everyone is getting picked but you are left falling behind.
When you stop looking for external validation, waiting to be accepted by others and deliberately make the choice to accept and choose yourself instead, that’s when true healing takes place.
TO BE PICKED
emilie mcknight
[2024] soft sculpture
LUCKY, TO ME, IS...
[2024] photography
YEAR 4 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @UGTC1
This is a series I created about luck, inspired by moments, people, and scenarios that make me feel truly lucky. Everyone has their own definition of luck, and for me, these moments serve as a source of inspiration—filling me with hope and reminding me to always be grateful for what I have in the present. shiyi zhou
THE BECKONING CAT :
alexis tien-chow
TAROT CARD SERIES
[2023] digital illustration
The amicable creature, the Lucky Cat, is believed to bring fortune and prosperity to households through its embodiment of life-enhancing energy.
MAY BE IT WAS LUCK, OR THE UNIVERSE HAD OTHER PLANS
[2025] digital collage
“Maybe It wasn’t luck, or the Universe had Other Plans” is a digital collage I made to process how I felt about losing a four leaf clover hairpin on the same day I wore it out for the first time. I believed I had been lucky that day, finding it at the bottom of the jewelry bin at an urban source, and I saved it for a special occasion. But once I arrived at the cafe and looked in the bathroom mirror, it was gone. I had lost other precious objects that week and at this point it began to feel personal, so I came home and created a design for a new clover hairpin. This collage combines this design with images from the cafe from that day, the food I ate while crying about such a small thing being lost. When reflecting through making this piece I think that maybe losing the hairpin was needed for me to become inspired to create a design. For that luck had me find it first and lose it, maybe I wasn’t meant to keep it, and it had to pass though my care for a short while before bringing luck to someone else.
GOOD FORTUNE
[2025] editorial
MOVE
We were born from migration. We are like geese flying arrows overhead in flocks, pointing the direction they know. I think of all the minute occurrences that had to have happened for us to exist here. We drink water, and I leave a spit mark on the side of a glass, and he leaves one on the other side.
He says, “I like the snow, it’s so quiet. The cars go slower, this street—it looks like a new street.” Then he nudges me under the trees where snow is coming off in big clumps. When it hits the ground, it doesn’t make any noise at all.
When we are tired, we go to sleep. I complain that it’s cold and he complains that it’s hot. And the geese, they still fly, like arrows. Nothing changes. When we are tired, we just sleep.
I’m sitting in the car, and my legs ache the way they used to when I was a kid, the kind of pain my mother brushed off as a growing pain. The car radio blares out in the early evening, cutting through the winter dark. When you’re tired, like how I’m tired, any sound reverberates all sharp and rattling.
“Well, we won’t have our favourite fruits in Canada in the summer,” the radio host announces.
“Maybe we can import them from Mexico, instead of America,” his co-host suggests.
“But the logistics—how do we move produce around the borders?”
But the logistics, how do we move people around the borders?
ella white
We were born into this wound, born only from the movement of the people before us. They are always forced across borders, lines that seek to create, only to rupture. When I was born, I cracked open a scab. I always pick at the healing crusts of my skinned knees, I can never leave them alone. I always have to think about how I got here: I must always destroy what they tell me I cannot destroy.
When we leave our bed, a smell, something human, rises gently from the sheets. It’s nothing like the sweet smell of detergent, or the manufactured smell of textile, or even the open window. For a split second, I smell our scents when I step back into the room after we’ve slept: his blood and my blood, the smell of our saliva upon waking, the dandruff of our scalps still sleeping on the pillowcase. Thin light filters through the window, covering everything in a shroud of warmth.
I’m busy and tired and I’m cold in my winter car. But with all this movement in the world, still, I am caught and tangled into my fleeting morning. Everyone deserves to wake up this way.
CATCH
[2024] illustration book stephanie auw
YEAR 3 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @DILETTANTEA
A journal series of a net, an unlucky fisherman and a lucky? fish.
CATCH is a series of three journals that explores the dynamics of big emotions through three unique perspectives: the fish, the net, and the fisherman—each an essential part of the concept of “catching” in sea. CATCH invites readers to reflect on their experiences of big and scary emotions, delving into them from three different unconventional angles.
(ANNIKA) UNTITLED
[2024] YEAR 4 PHOTOGRAPHY @0922S9
My interpretation of the Japanese song “喜劇 (Comedy)” by Gen Hoshino was inspired by my own personal experience. I feel lucky that I met someone who genuinely appreciates my true self and embraces every aspect of it.
I mean… what are the chances, right?
graciella rosary
YEAR 4 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @GRACIELLAROSARY
UNTITLED
I stumbled upon this set of vertebrae on a hiking trip after deciding to peek my head over a small bluff. They accompanied me on the rest of the trip and acted as a good luck charm for our adventure.
roxy lewon
T R ANS
bella martin
YEAR 3 VISUAL ARTS
@ARTISTBELLAMARTIN
GAPS BETWEEN
nipuliranatunga
linoleum [2024]
‘I LOVE YOU’ AND ‘GOODBYE’
[2025]
YEAROF TH E S N AKE
digital illustration
This piece was created in celebration of the Lunar New Year, a time of transformation, wisdom, and personal growth.
clara kathleen
ON THE PROBABILITY OF AN IDEAL ENDGAME
editorial [2025]
(Death) is an absolute certainty. So we talked about it often.
“I hope to have built a fortune. At least enough so I can retire without making another dime in my elderhood. If I die tomorrow though, this little shit of a brother can have my car. And I should tell my mom to sell this shitty house in this shitty strata for a nicer apartment. Get someone involved, in case my shitty dad flips out again.” Sighed. “Who knows, you know?”
You pressed on gas, and the night drive turned silent. You reached over to find comfort, unclenching your hand in mine. Fingers slowly intertwined, like how they usually do.
You had a dream not long ago, of looking for me in empty hallways. You knocked on heavy doors, one by one. You didn’t know though: I was looking for you, too. I had been for a little while. In my dreams, amongst crowds of strangers. In my visions.
And I dreamed of building a fortune. Building a kingdom of regenerative beauty with you. A landscape where the sky and earth meet; at the centre of it all lies your tree of life. I wanted to plant a plethora of evergreens around you, and I wanted to make nature sing around you, and I wanted to move moons and stars along the stretch of our universe so they can shine above you, above me, across the landscape. And when time passes, we will grow. We will stretch with our universe. The tips of our fingers and toes can always touch, as all things that belong come back. We can be eternally glorious. Even when apart. Even in deaths. Even in rebirths as new, poor human beings.
We witnessed one another change throughout the years. Faces. Bodies. Minds. Souls. Our lives. Uphills and downhills. Goods and bads. Vices and virtues. We forget who we were before it all started sometimes; now more often than not. But at the beginnings and endings of it all, we kept finding new particles of love. They kept staying, despite derivatives. Somehow, they grew. And somehow, they were pure.
In entanglement with you, (Love) became an inevitable certainty.
“In order to achieve your ideal look, your visions, you have to do tests. Experiments and iterations. Include things that work in your pipeline and maintain them. Find out how the industry does it. It’s always worth it when you make it to the end.”
I took that advice to heart without knowing. Reiterating through versions of you. Through versions of me. Learning. Loving. Moulding it into different forms. Building from it. Failing. Learning again. Doing it again. Getting it semi-right; failing again. Taking from it, learning again. Doing it again. Getting it more right; maintaining it. Failing again. Then learning again. Doing it again. Getting it more right. Loving more; then building from it. Ect. Repeat.
There is no constant probability, but in [(Re)-Experiencing the certainties of the game itself] exists the probability amplitude of the ideal endgame.
And where are you at? Who are you now? What do you see? Complete, and begin again.
EC LE CTIC AL LY
LUCKY
illustration + text, book [2024]
YEAR 3 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @ABELBERITH
merantau, menjaring (to wander, to catch) contains 2 prose-poetry pieces: bona pasogit. (homeland.) and mulih dhisik. (go home, or roadtrip.). This book is a collection of my memories of growing up in Indonesia, woven together to create a colourful, surrealistic reflection on familial expectations, gender, and self-determination. It’s a story of what the dice of life has rolled onto me, and the few quirks I can make of it.
MERANTAU, MENJARING
(TO WANDER, TO CATCH)
CA P TU R ED LUCK
photography [2024]
This is a collection of photographic works, each frame brimming with heartfelt blessings. These pictures capture the essence of daily life, a seemingly ordinary existence where, in fact, every individual harbors unique dreams and hopes.
Against the backdrop of these quiet and serene corners of life, the photos unearth diverse people and those intangible elements within their hearts that yearn to be intertwined with good fortune. It’s as if the camera lens has delicately caught these moments of hope and possibility. That’s precisely why I titled this body of work “Captured Luck”, a name that encapsulates the magic and serendipity frozen in each image.
OH NO!
watercolour [2024]
lauren james
YEAR 4 VISUAL ART
“Oh No!” was inspired by an encounter I had with a Douglas Squirrel, whom I accidentally startled, causing them to drop the Douglas Fir cone they were eating. As a result, they began to continuously bark at me, as if to relay their annoyance at me. When the Douglas Squirrel eats a coniferous cone, they peel off each scale to reveal the tasty seeds hidden inside, in return scattering these little scales all over the forest floor.
“Sleight of hand” is a piece representative of luck--and even fate--for me. It is “for me” since it is based on the theories of fate and destiny; everything that has happened to and because of me, did, because that is the only way any of it could’ve happened. This life is what it is, exactly because of the highs and lows I went through, and I find myself pretty darn grateful for everything. I’d consider myself incredibly lucky for being able to be here, away from home, and blooming into my own person. I find myself both grateful and lucky to be able to express any of this at all.
It was critical for life to have gone exactly the way it did for me to be here. If not, it wouldn’t have been me who was here, I might not have been “here” at all.
SLEIGHT OF HAND
jignya warrier
BELOVED
BITS & PIECES
[2024] mixed media
A zine about an exploration between risograph printing and traditional printmaking techniques, with illustrations surrounding the theme of "things we like" and "things that bring us happiness".
olivia hanif
felicia krisno
vanessa bolinger
YEAR 4 VISUAL ARTS @NEDDA_.MAY
[2024] mixed media
“Swarm” came to existence through the aleatory nature of the metal casting process.
SWARM
Always [2024]
YEAR 4 VISUAL ARTS @MXEVEART
This painting is an ode to my partner, someone I am very lucky to have in my life. The flowers represent life, the skulls represent death, and together they represent a love that will always last.
oil on canvas
maeve stinson
LUCKY ME
[2024] pens + markers
kara mia roxas
YEAR 2 COMMUNICATION DESIGN @MISOMII.A
TEAMS
EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
Kelly Hardi
CREATIVE DIRECTOR
Graciella Rosary
DESIGN TEAM
Skye Bainard
Brandon Chan
Chelsie Chin
Kathy Deng
Jessica Ruffolo
Tayla Schaffer
Tanya Thind
Emily Xie
MEDIA DIRECTOR
Malvika Garlyal
EDITORIAL DIRECTOR
Abi Simatupang
MEDIA TEAM
Sophia Borchers
Ashley Cheng
Shayne Hommy
Seoyoung Moon
Anne SueYeun Seol
Charlie Sun
Braelynn Simpson
EDITORIAL TEAM
Vy Le
Anoushka Nair
Bethany Pardoe
Ella White
COLOPHON
WOO is available at Emily Carr University and at woopublication.ca.
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© 2025 including all content by the artists, authors, and editors. All images are reproduced with the permission of the artists.
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