A massive carpet of green amidst skyscrapers of grey. Throw in a few shades of clear blue too. And a few dots of grey. Grass, water, fountains, bridges, trees. Ordinary elements that unite to form the extraordinary. Central Park. I wonder who thought to build a grandiose city around a field of green. So many wonders yet so little time to explore. It’s like exploring through the woods in a fairytale. Or a book where the reader has the excitement of choosing the ending. Each turn and bend in the path alters where the road will take you. Choose wisely, for the park holds a mystery. … More Portrait of a Park by Courtney Dodge
At the Frick Museum, I particularly enjoyed the religious pieces. The one that caught my attention was the crucifixion of Jesus, especially since I went during the liturgical season of Lent and approaching Easter. The golden colors brought the picture to life. Jesus was the center of this image and this demonstrated the importance and priority that He should take in the lives of those who believe. … More Golden Glory by Christina Marini
The foil began at the edges of your eyes.
I don’t know how it got there, or where it came from, if it’s organic or inorganic or even explainable by science but there it is, this gold crinkly stuff, stuck to the outsides of your eyes and slowly spreading down your cheeks, like golden tears, like a rash. Our classmates think it’s a fashion statement, a Nylon editorial imitation, but I follow you into the bathroom and watch you try to pick it off and you can’t, it’s like skin. … More Modern Deity by Meghan Bennett
I stop. I stare. This is not what we do. This is not how we dance. Her arms shouldn’t be held like that. Straight out, then soften the elbows a bit, round your palms and turn them in. Your arms should not be bent downwards. Elbows to the sky, ladies, elbows to the sky. Turn your arms into bird’s wings and fly. Why are you smiling? No smiling in ballet. We are pleasant, we are neutral, we are here to be seen and admired but not noticed. … More critique by Lauren Tavares
No photographs allowed in the museum.
No way to save what you’re seeing.
Never will you view these paintings again,
for once you leave here the experience ends.
But take a look at those around you,
who you share this museum with.
Not just your friends but strangers too,
only here for a little bit. … More The Frick Museum Does Not Allow Photographs by Satish Reginald
The lights shine down on us all, illuminating our lines and creating shadows that define us. We stare into our own souls and reflect on our reflections. Then, we move.
We inhabit our music. It becomes a playground, a mad scientist’s lab, a space in the void where we can be everything and nothing all at once. Piano notes flow down my spine and bend my back into positions not thought possible. With each strum of the guitar, my heart leaps and I fly through the air with its power. Bass sharpens my movements, quick fingers and toes and snaps of the wrists. … More the lab by Lauren Tavares