Tag: arts ink

To: Those Who Have Reached The Coming of Age

veralynn Leave a comment

Dear Modernity,

The other day I saw the most beautiful couple. 

This woman, a trailing bright blue coat and chestnut brown ringlets tight on her scalp, walking hand in hand with her son. The father, plainly dressed and hurrying to cross the street, caught up with them, only to join their connection. Handfuls of hands testing their strength as they lifted their son up and down, and up and down, and up and down, until he broke out of their love with laughter. I thought how wonderful it is to be able to love without thought. 

There is a certain trace of grief felt when you realize your wants and needs have changed. And changed so fundamentally that you can never go back. The journey lies in objectivity and progress, but flips your insides out with an ease that you can only call growth. It begs for you to notice.

I want to be happy in the way that the river flows and finds constant peace in its unending motion. In the way that trees turn red, yellow, orange, and bare, just to come back alive in the spring, knowing that they were never really gone at all. In the way that the goose, swimming against the current, knows it will make it home at the end of the night. I want to be enveloped and protected by nature, and return to dust feeling completely whole. Even the rock that weathers against the tide locates itself under my step scrunched. 

The question now is: when will it happen? 

Whenever it does, I imagine that day to the one day of my life where there is no doubt and no hurt. There is only divine femininity and blue jays singing their songs as the river continues to run and never stop. The baby squirrels will only burrow under the leaves with acorn gifts for their mothers. Huitzilopochtli crystalizing me for the rest of time. 

With hope,

V.L.A.

P.S. Adrianne Lenker – Already Lost.  

A Side of Sketching – Signs of Fall

Kendelyne Leave a comment

Hello! The past few weeks have been full of traveling for me, so this spread was drawn in the car. It’s a synthesis of some of the most notable changes and symbols that I associate with the month of October: falling leaves, warmer clothes, pumpkin spice lattes (although I’ve never actually had one .ᴖ.), wool hats, digital cameras/retro technology, and pumpkin carving! Dressing in layers and wearing puffy coats is one of my favorite parts of this time of year, and I’m really enjoying meandering through campus as the leaves change and fall.

Bursley Bucaneer: Jada “Barbie” Smith

Arushi Singh Leave a comment
PIRATE SHIP FACT reference: The one room
Jada “Barbie” Smith

PIRATE SHIP FACT: Captains and higher-ranking members had private sleeping quarters, while common sailors slept in one room.

Friday, October 9th – 2:30 a.m.

The CLC was intended to be a space for community learning, so it was aptly named the “Community Learning Center” of Bursley. Yet, sometime around 12 a.m., the room transforms into what is essentially a medieval tavern. The congregation of computers, whiteboards, and comfy seating flips on its head to reveal the conversations waiting to be verbalized by those who were “studying.” Regardless of the assignments untouched and the essays left not started, laptops become cold to the touch as yapping and DoorDash orders commence. In this setting, after that time, is where Jada shared her story.

As an international student from Trinidad, Jada is one of three students she knew from her country to have gone to Michigan (and one of two Jada Smiths, a name she told me raises eyebrows in a “post-slap” society). During her college application process, even her counselor was unsure on how to help her apply internationally, forcing her on a journey paved by her own volition. As a result, Jada is a person of infinite professions. She truly is a Michigan “Barbie.”

Once the clock strikes twelve, the CLC partially turns into a gymnasium. It starts with a simple “hey dude can you do a cartwheel” and then ten seconds later everyone is trying to do backbends around the computers. In our lounging conversation, gymnastics came up as one of Jada’s activities from back home. She casually dropped that she was a gymnast and children’s instructor back in Trinidad, and that she could do a backflip. Obviously, I collectively rallied for a demonstration, but she said the ceilings were too low. So instead, with true showmanship, she did an aerial (an insane cartwheel with no hands). Meera (another Bursley Bucaneer) took a video that I’ve linked above.

On the theme of showmanship, Jada also included that she was a NATIONAL radio show host in Trinidad for a teens’ station. She would play music, take calls, and post her broadcasts on her Instagram, which went out across the Island. Through her Instagram reels, she showed videos of her breaking it down in the station while wearing the sickest outfits. Imagine yourself in her shoes; the second the microphone light goes red, you’re live in front of your country. However, if anyone is bound to establish a lack of personal pressure from that situation, it’s Jada.

Her expansive resume is only the tip of the iceberg. Here at Michigan, Jada is studying mechanical engineering. Considering every conversation freshman year starts with someone’s major, it was one of the only things I knew about her before our CLC chat. She studies hard, flips high, and radio-hosts (custom verb) powerfully.

In this blog series, I plan on giving each Bursley pirate ship member a nickname that attempts to encapsulate their story. Completely in character, Jada just happened to be wearing a Barbie sweatshirt that early, early Friday morning.

Whether Jada becomes a mechanical engineer, or a gymnast with a radio station about the field of mechanical engineering, I can’t wait to see what step Bursley’s “Barbie” takes next.

Yours sincerely,

Captain Singh

(NOTE: This author is not in any legitimate position of power. They just smugly decided to call themselves the “Captain,” apologies).

Capturing Campus: Sleep Paralysis

EKArts Leave a comment

Sleep Paralysis

Waking became worse than dreaming

of guilt and endless rooms

familiar and upside down

bottomless pits on the ceiling

falling upwards 

to breathe but not move

words like mercury in the throat

dispel panic through fluttering eyelids

know there is no sense in fighting

a prison of the mind

as limbs stiffen hard

at the sight

perched on the bed

with angel wings

borne of kerosene 

headlights for teeth

gnashing at the stillness

beneath tight sheets

A cherry pit soul

screams freedom

LOG_032_CITY_OF_MASKS

Traveler Leave a comment

The second moon of HKC 2901 d is a rainy and rocky one, dreary in climate but abundant in ores and other natural resources. The locals tend to keep to themselves—many have never stepped foot off the moon, let alone traveled to intra-system planets—and they are exceedingly polite but distant toward strangers. Theirs is predominantly a blue-collar community: most are employed in the processes of extracting, refining, and exporting the raw materials of the moon.

Despite this, they hold close-knit ties within their communities. Children, a rare sight, are safeguarded by every member regardless of blood relations. When one falls ill, others shoulder a share of the work and ensure that they do not go cold or hungry. The heart of each town lives in the hearth, where food is shared in communal meals when the day’s work is done.

The strength of their collective identity might also be owed in part to one unique aspect: due to high concentrations of atmospheric ammonia, every human must wear a breathing apparatus when outside of hermetically-sealed facilities. Over the generations, such apparatus have developed meaning in some cultures as both a symbol of practical protection and spiritual kinship. Some are passed down in families, marked by a lineage of workers. To wear their mask is to also belong to the collective, one of an anonymous whole. Among more religious sects, they have also acquired a meaning of modesty, and believers rarely take their masks off in the presence of others. Tourists tend to exaggerate this meaning to wild misinterpretations; planet-hoppers are especially guilty of this, envisioning romanticized lives of simple labor in exotic small towns. The more gauche souvenir shops found on HKC 2901 d tout overly-decorated and often non-functional masks, advertising sacred or magical effects.

– from System HKC 2901: A Primer, First Edition