Now

OUR SELECTED ARTISTS (In alphabetical order per category)

VISUAL ART

BUS

Jessie Blackmer, Art

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Undine Brod, Art

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Grace Cooper, Art/Ceramics, Design

As a transfer student to the great Ohio State University, I felt very intimidated by many of the surrounding art students. Throughout this time of intimidation, I began to rise up and face facts that I too can be as talented if I try and try, and try some more. During my 2D class, I was given an assignment and was to be inspired by the ‘Quilts of Gee’s Bend’ (http://www.quiltsofgeesbend.com/). With the innovative movement that this community displayed, I felt compelled to find my own way of making art using the items that surround me. No materials of this piece were bought specifically for the assignment. The fabric, paint, paper, thread and even foam board were all from a collection of art supplies left over from previous works. As a college student, I have learned to work with what I have and create pieces that reflect my personal state of being. To me, this untitled piece gives me hope and encourages me to produce more worthwhile art works in the years to come. I am very glad it brings a smile to my face each time I see it—and that is truly what my art is about.

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Clarence Fullard, Horticulture and Crop Science

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Kara Gut, Art/Photography

My art has a lot to do with the idea of embracing freedom, options and opportunity in life.  I thought that it would be a good choice to include a picture that captured this sentiment in a place that may seem crowded and small at times.  I would like the average bus rider to experience art that can take them away from the everyday and suspend them in a place quite new and exciting.

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Lauri Lynnxe Murphy**, Art/Sculpture

These drawings are all intuitive and automatic, created from collaged paint chips, ink, watercolors, gouache, and other materials on Yupo, a synthetic translucent paper.

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Heather Prior, Art

My paintings and drawings represent my relationship with the materials. My pieces tend to be about the experience of the process itself. Layering is a very important element within my work. For different pieces, it creates different incidents. Although my work is a combination of distinct characteristics, passages arise within many of them. These passages are created using line, layers, and color. Amid these aspects, the fluid movement of the paint and brush strokes connects them together. Using all of these qualities, I construct ambiguous spaces. There are places within a painting that are calm and stable but soon get disrupted by a bold line or seeping stain. The colors on my palette and shapes that are formed allow the viewer to make their own perception about what is in front of them.

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Nara Shin, Art

We see rapid changes in our everyday life, affected by technology. Technologies are allowing us to create, manage, and distribute content (images, stories, video) in a way that was never possible before. It’s changed not only our life cycle, but we can get to places in just hours to minutes.  As we travel, it is difficult to capture the movement through the camera since it may not show how it is in reality. These devices can distort it to make it seem like you are traveling through a virtual space which takes you beyond your imaginations. I was interested in how the camera can reveal the speed of traveling, exposing the light movement at night. The colors were not only beautiful, but it really emphasized how there were so many things we cannot see with our own eyes. The reason I used long exposure shots was because these photos capture the natural light around us and make it seem perplexing, as if it was caught on accident. The objects are unrecognizable; almost as if nothing was ever there.

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 BUS STOP

Kyle Begley, City & Regional Planning

A one man band, who sound is as thick as an orchestra. Recorded in a basement, myself and Jason Brown (who performs under the name Drive Far Fast) affordably produced an album with all the bells and whistles one has come to expect in the digital age of music. His music, reminiscent of a resurrected Elliot Smith, dares to speak openly about trials and tribulations we all must face.

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Jessie Blackmer, Art

This work was made to change the space by replacing something removed. In the case of the Salmonberries the ripe fruit was removed and replaced with glass berry prostheses. The glass sprouts, though not replacing a sprout, are standing in for a potential future form. The work is meant to pull us out of our everyday personal reverie and make us more aware of the present.

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Catherine Bullock, Art/Painting & Drawing

The pieces I have created are an investigation of space, real and imagined, and what these impossible spaces can imply for the viewer. I seek engagement with the environment through disorientation, and yet hope that there is a certain understanding of the universally familiar pieces and parts I am using to create said environments. These paintings are the beginning of a very thorough exploration I am conducting that will lead into a senior thesis project next year.

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Danny Gurwin, Architecture

This piece is a reaction to the state of the music industry in 2011.  Personally, I see the industry, (or the ‘game’) as a singular entity, which acts separately from the public, and specializes in production for the masses.  In this piece, I have taken the top 20 artists each in the genres of Hip-Hop, Pop, Rock, and Country (according to Billboard charts) and superimposed them based on musical genre to generate a new, fictional face that represents the current singular ‘face’ of music.  These faces represent idealized features and forms of those who become famous, and my pieces are an attempt to create and average composite face for each genre, which is in effect, the idealized image of a star, or what one might strive to look like in order to achieve fame in such a formulaic industry. The source images were all obtained from google, using the most popular and frequently hitting image for each musical artist.  I don’t claim the rights to the original photographs; however, they are abstracted beyond recognition and I do claim the rights to the new faces produced.

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Leila Karaze, Art/Photography

I grew up in Columbus but never took the time to appreciate the beautiful scenery that I am surrounded by.  Shooting with the view camera is the best way to capture the fine details of Columbus.

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Peter Philip Luckner, Art & Technology

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Elizabeth Nelson, Art/Painting & Drawing

This piece is representative of city life. I wanted to focus on the structures found in building and roads, as well as the movement of people, traffic, and light.

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Brad Noble, Art and Technology

I feel there has been a disconnect between the things we own and the understanding of how they are made. I am drawn more to a object that has a human touch in its creation, rather than something created on an assembly line. I have found this do-it-yourself attitude during my stay in Columbus, be it a makeshift music concert in the basement of a house, or building a skateboard ramp in a backyard.

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LITERATURE

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Waiting Men – Comfort #48

The city pays a man to wait on buses. Some of his job duties include shifting uncomfortably, pacing back and forth, glancing at a wrist watch every five minutes, issuing heavy sighs when citizens pass, and asking these passing citizens if they know when the number seven bus is coming.  I’ve been waiting a long time, he tells them. He uses the same line every time.

This is not a labor intense job, but standing all day can cause lower back problems. This means the city has to provide a fantastic healthcare plan, one that includes chiropractic coverage. There were questions at first — whether the money might be better spent elsewhere. However, shortly after the waiting man was hired and assigned the corner of High and Broad, people found it comforting and agreed that it was a wise investment.  They enjoyed the thought that even though no one else might be waiting for anything in the city, the waiting man was.

The city also has a less prestigious job for which they pay a man to hide in the bushes of the nearby park. As the bus passes, he runs wildly to catch it, yelling obscenities and jumping up and down, missing the bus by seconds. People are generally happy with this investment, too.  They know that they are on time to the bus stop. They are not left behind.  This is a nice feeling and so the Mayor wins reelection.

Andrew Ross Bailey, City and Regional Planning

I write short pieces on a daily basis at somethingnewplease.wordpress.com. I enjoy sharing these “stories” that provide snapshots and can be read quickly, communicating a scene or idea for those of us that do not have a lot of time in our day.

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Communication

Feeling

Anguish in

the Impossibility

of Language

Undeterred

we Reach

for Emotion.

I Remember

Exploring

Seven hundred miles with

will Power that can’t be

told Out loud.

Nothing

but Desperate

Sound

Christine Soliman, Art/Sculpture

My story was a search for independence. I lived off of my bicycle travelling everyday, meeting people and seeing the world without a window to obscure my view. It is impossible to describe my complete experience and this poem exemplifies this feeling.

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The Bargain

O, were I to change the world.

Were I to, from its grotesque form,

Rebuild the world anew

A shining, proud utopia

Where once scant but rats

Scuffled the dirtied streets.

With Promethean sacrifice,

Damned to have my innards

Torn out by carrion birds,

Would I willingly right

The immoral flow of our planet.

Were I but a nobler man than Faust

To make such a black sacrifice

And bleach the stains from the planets robes

Would I will the grime and filth of humanity

Upon my damned soul

And be but a grander Fallen

As in mine own fantasies.

Would I run risk that perchance

The deal maker is naught but Loki,

Would I have but the chance

To build mankind a city of alabaster and marble.

But alas, I am but of the flesh

And from the flesh spawns flaws.

Flaws that under such great strain

Would crack and fracture

Damning both my soul and my marble city

To ruin and despair.

For I have not the strength of Ajax,

Nor the wisdom of Odysseus.

I have not the fortitude of Hector.

I am but a man, with weakness

A hundred fold the size

Of Achilles cursed tendon,

And a man I must with content

Will to be, lest I fall pray

To my own desires, dark and accursed

                                                                                  Eric Stanek, History

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It is Midday in the Park

My toes press

into the sharp, fresh blades

wet like distilled grass

I could drink them

I lay in the field

The spinach strands tickle my elbows

and paint the backs my knees

gentle brushstrokes slide against my legs and whisper into my ears

the nape of my neck is wet

yet refreshed

they seep into strands of hair

twirling and winding

a plush emerald carpet is starting to grow

within my hair

sinking my fingers in

deep into the particles

the bits of earth climb atop one another

pushing and shoving into the nail

sometimes settling in the cracks of cuticles

as the blades peek through my fingers

Sarah Marks, Arts and Sciences

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What is Middlesex about?

The froth from her latte lingers,

a foamy caterpillar slurped

between burgundy lips.

She fingers a tendril of tentatively auburn curl

absently: mind and eyes alike fixed on Middlesex,

she turns a page with a flick,

lands another kiss on the coffee, softly.

She must be absorbed, obviously, obliviously,

sparing not a glance to me, two tables down

staring in spurts between nursing

my own medium drip, rehearsing

“I like your hair.” “Middlesex, what

a book” (pretending) Should I drop something?

If only I could figure out anything

from that cover…it’s not telling

a word. “Nice weather we’re having,”

But she is not having a word with me—

between stares, suddenly she leaves, no warning,

only leaving on her chair a hair, a slender thing,

a piece of skin clinging to its end.

Lily, Liu, Biomedical Science

“What is Middlesex about?” was written immediately after I attended the Ohio CAUSE conference, which brings together Central Ohio students interested in LGBTQ issues. Although I myself identify as straight, for the past year I’ve been seeking to learn more about the LGBTQ experience because I also identify as a (fairly) conservative Christian, and so much pain has been caused to the LGBTQ community by the Christian church. One of the workshops I attended at CAUSE was about the experience of transgender individuals, and that experience inspired me to write a love poem from a gender-ambiguous point of view to provoke readers to think more deeply about issues of gender.

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A Foreign Language

After the doctors discovered Father’s lung cancer and he checked into Tokyo General, a foreign man came to visit him who I’d never seen before. He wore a flat brim hat and a black overcoat, and had a sharp, ivory face. I’d come to the hospital straight from my private high school, and was reading to Father—Mishima, his favorite.

“Good evening. You must be young Master Ikura,” the man said to me in English, and then to my father, “It has been a while, Jyun.”

“Hello,” I said, closing the book. English was my worst subject at school and I was afraid I would be asked to say more, but Father dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I stepped outside the plastic curtain that separated my father’s bed from that of the four other patients in the room. Behind the curtain I could hear them speaking, and I was shocked to hear my father’s voice making those foreign sounds. I knew he’d spoken the language once, but I’d never heard him say more than a couple words at a time, and assumed that he’d forgotten it.

I was only sixteen, but by then my father was an old man, and he never liked to talk about the past. He barely ever mentioned anything about the years he’d lived in England, and he’d said even less about my mother, who’d been killed in a car accident over there when I was an infant. The stranger, with his black clothes and pale face, seemed like a ghost from the life my father had lived before me, a locked room I’d been forbidden from.

When the man left I followed him out, hoping to thank him for visiting Father. Night had fallen and it was raining, but this didn’t seem to bother the man, who took a package of cigarettes from his coat, and offered me one. I wasn’t a smoker but I took one anyway, and he lit it for me.

“Dunhill. Fine British tobacco,” he said. Though I could recognize each individual word, it was difficult for me to understand him when he strung them together. “Jyun did good by you, you’ve turned out well. Sis’ would be proud.”

A car with diplomatic license plates pulled around. The man reached over and put the pack of cigarettes into my shirt pocket, took out his wallet and handed me a wad of money, then threw his cigarette on the ground and got in the back of the town car. I admired my father and, even though he was always distant, in my own way I loved him. But as the car sped off I realized there were things about him I’d never know, entire oceans I could only see the surface of.

Two months later my father died. I bore down on my studies and worked on my English and though it took me a long time I learned to write down what I remembered about that strange man in his own language. After all, what I’d wanted in the first place was to understand him, to know where he fit in my life.

Michael Larson, English/Creative Writing

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OBER GATLINBURG

Even Radford Gatlin would find these heights

to his liking: in this shaky stasis

of almost flight, we thread through cerulean

mist on our very own Doppelmayr,

drifting above churches & pancake houses.

For eight dollars more, we chairlift higher

into the ridge, & a bluegrass band greets

those of us who dock here, the highest peak.

Thirty feet below, the more adventurous

can slide down the sleek side of the mountain

on plastic tubing built in the sixties,

when snow still softened gorges & feathered

horizons. Never mind the flying squirrels

who—thanks to all our racket—shy away

from their drama in the air, cling to rivulets

of bark, afraid, or the black bears dozing

in their glass habitat. “You will never

be purer,” our guide tells us, “than when you

marvel at Le Conte & Sugarland

Massifs—here, a mountain for our postcards,

there, a sun charging conifers with life eternal.”

William White, English/Creative Writing

My short poem “Ober Gatlinburg” deals with the ever encroaching force and presence of man onto the natural world, particularly that of the Smokey Mountains. It would be interesting to juxtapose this piece juxtaposed against the urban landscape of Columbus.

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Erotic Anthropodermic Bibliopegy

I was found on a shelf in the Wellcome library,

bound in human skin, a treatise on husbandry.

And still you’ve yet to open me. With all your

interest in the beasts of the world, you’d think

a human would be too much for you to resist.

The stink of rutting and sweating and piss

was tanned away, but it’s a scent you never lose

memory of. Press me. I can provide for you.

Don’t be thrown by the indulgence of reading me

alone. There is more than one way a word is bound.

Do you know what it means when I say that

“in evolution, three bone hearing is the holy grail?”

It means we can still hear when we talk. We can

moan and hear moaning. We can act this out together.

Rachel Roman, English

In this poem, I wanted to explore the relationship between language and people. Language, whether it is written or spoken or moaned, is how we connect with each other. It’s the only way we know how to connect and that makes it fraught with complications and importance.

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*Two Pieces of Art were Selected

**Top Selected Artist

Please help me congratulate all our selected artists, including our top selected artist, Lauri Lynnxe Murphy! At our opening ceremony this Monday, she will be awarded a $100 cash award, trophy, and  picture in the Columbus Dispatch. Her art will also be used for the front cover of the trifold Campus Loop South Art Map, and will be seen in June 2nd’s OnCampus’ paper and newsfeed.

Again, congratulations Lauri Lynnxe Murphy and congratulations to the all our other selected artists!

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