OSU’s Art & Literary Magazine / Winter 2009

“Bright Ideas”Alex Davis

Digital Photography

© Prism MagazineWinter 2009Volume 45: 2

Editor in ChiefCarly Scheick

Technical EditorsPatrick Hennessey Jenn Blechman Leah Anderson

Editorial Collective

prism is published three times annually under the authority of Oregon State University and the Student Media Committee policies for student, faculty and staff of the Associated Students of Oregon State University. Prism accepts submissions of literary or artistic nature year round from students enrolled at Oregon State University.

Cover: Icarus by Seth Jefferson (oil on panel)

Back Cover: Skyscape by Seth Jefferson (oil on panel)

Send submissions to:Prism Magazine118 Memorial Union EastOregon State UniversityCorvallis, OR 97331

541-737-2253prism@oregonstate.edu Printed by Precision Graphics Tualatin, Oregon

Mellissa ChislomJames CutzHannah DahlNicole GeetingRose HansenSarah Lopez

Kendra MillerKim MyersAshley NoredLauren SigelMorgan Williams

1

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

2 1

22

23

24

25

26

28

29

30

3 1

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

40

Bright Ideas

forest

Futile Words

Dear Ruth

Moreland Hall’s Bathroom Stalls

Untitled I & II

Key

No Apologies

The Train to Cincinnati

Group Feature : Women’s Center Art Show

Endurance

Found Dictionary

Blockmaker

The Painter

My Sacred Coffee Girl

Dylan

Untitled 7, 8, 9 & 11

Eraser

Personal Space

Still Life

Little Murder

Tips for Taking Photographs at Great Distances

Human Nature

Icicles

Emptiness

Perseus and the Quest for Medusa’s Head

tight little knot

I

lost at sea

Man & Pig

Okay Mr.

Subway

What is Beneath

Once You Forget to Remember You Remember

Contributors’ Notes

Niagra

Contents

Alex Davis : Digital Photography

Ali Schlicting : Acrylic on Board

Andrew Edwards : Mixed Media Design

Jill Macdonald : Poetry

Craig Bidiman : Poetry

Casey Helton : Digital Photography

Marne Elmore : Bronze Sculpture

Tim Pfarr : Short Short

Tim Pfarr : Short Short

Ramia Alghamdi : Oil on Canvas

Lauren Dillard : Short Short

Deahna Fumarol : Poetry

Talia Filipek : Photography

Amy Tacchini : Monotype Print on BFK

Feygon Nickerson : Poetry

Shea Pedersen : Short Short

Nathan Carmichael : Digital Painting

Deahna Fumarol : Poetry

Jessica Marshall : Graphite

Devan Woods : Pen & Ink

Michael Stoneberg : Poetry

Jonathan Peacock : Poetry

Amanda Bounds : Photography

Alex McElroy : Short Short

Amy Zacher : Poetry

Matthew Lahmann : Digital Painting

Kyla Grasso : Poetry

Deahna Fumarol : Poetry

Sarah Lopez : Acrylic on Canvas

Justin Smith : Clay Sculpture

Talia Filipek : Poetry

Sarah Paeth : Short Short

Deahna Fumarol : Oil on Canvas

Greg Luckeroth : Intaglio Print

Ryan Schanno : Digital Photomanipulation

1 4 5815

2921

36

1622

37

19

33

25

40

9 12

4

“forest”Ali Schlicting

Acrylic on Board

5

“Futile Words”Andrew Edwards

Mixed Media Design

6

Dear RuthJill Macdonald

Editor’s Pick

Dear Ruth,I didn’t mean(That is to say)I wasn’t trying (I just mean)It wasn’t my intentionToTake/mangle/repulse/exclude/degrade/(impress?)YouBut/however/regardlessIn retrospectLet’s consider myActions/deeds/wrongdoingsTo beNecessary/just/permanent/hilarious/(heroic?) And of the purest intent.Thank you/sincerely/swimmingly/begrudgingly, Chas/Danny/Erik/Simon

PS: You can keep the refrigerator/money/dog/kids.

7

Moreland Hall’s Bathroom StallsCraig Bidiman

I, the traveler, was appalled at what I found:

If Oregon State has such a good engineering program,Who designed these stalls?I can barely get in here without falling into the toiletBut this is the most literate jumble of graffiti I have ever seen

Please join the dialogue

Although, the inherent fatal flaw of mankind is this:His propensity to exploit and manipulatehis environment and surroundings is everlooked at and often mistaken for virtue

Manifest your virtue, however smallIt will contribute to becoming the all

It’s cold in here, come winter

Women are the root of evil.Why is Helen Keller a bad driver?Because she’s a woman!If you want peace, prepare for war

Kill no one, please.

Not a soldier of fortune, but a believer in defenseProtector of the rights, I fight the current eventsSoul so right, I cause a total eclipseScrew the new order, I become my own sequence

God hates religious fanatics

Todd says some of this graffiti has been here for over 25 yearsAnd that your equation doesn’t prove shitBut you said it’s not an equation, it’s proofMaybe you should stick to English

Please join the dialogue

Life is but a dream so don’t wake upBut it’s a shocking discovery when you wakeTo find you are a person and not one of the peopleEverything in moderation, including moderation

“Hail Hitler”—Good idea, poor executionBush plus Cheney equals war crimesWar of aggression. Torture. KidnappingCrimes against Humanity

Please join the dialogue

Times to cry alone, there may be lightBut not one soul, I wait with an insane mind,Alone with glee,For once I can be alone, and will forever be

Round and round this little world spinsI am who sent me!For a good time, call Nick (number supplied)The traveler was here…

And will forever be

8

“Untitled I & II”Casey Helton

Digital Photography

9

“Key”Marne Elmore

Bronze Sculpture

10 No Apologies Tim Pfarr

When I was bored, I would shoot birds with my pistol, watching them fall lifelessly to the ground one by one,

leaving my yard a minefield of blown apart, decomposing carcasses. I died shooting birds, and the last shot from my pistol shot into the bushes. I would say I’m sorry for what I did, but I’m not.

11The Train To Cincinnati Tim Pfarr

I took the train to Cincinnati and spent the trip alone near a window, watching the dead leaves on the ground speed by me behind the

tinted glass. Fall had not officially begun yet, but the leaves had passed away early that year. I was greeted by my sister when I arrived at the station. She gave me a hug, the first hug I had received in some time. From there, she led me to her car, and together we drove away, discussing the arrangements.

12

Group Feature: Women’s Center Art Show

In honor of Women’s History month, the OSU Women’s Center presents our annual art show. This show features women who are OSU faculty, staff, students, and community members. All mediums are accepted and generally the art submitted fits an ongoing theme. This year’s theme was “She Flies With Her Own Wings.” Past themes have included “Celebrating the Future, Cherishing the Past” and “Back to Basics”. The artist is urged to individually interpret these themes. The art show is held in the MU Concourse and runs for an entire month.

Interested participants can contact the OSU Women’s Center at 737-3186 or womenscenter@oregonstate.edu.

“Untitled”Ramia Alghamdimais, fine arts

13

Endurance Lauren Dillard

T he rattling echo of gunfire plays between my ears. It’s always there, that sound. I hear the whirring buzz of bullets flying through the air, again and again. The malleable metal strikes cement behind my consciousness. When a hollow-point

bullet hits a surface, it mushrooms and continues to spin. It causes maximum damage with the least amount of effort.

I wasn’t there, but I can piece it together in my head. The bullets weren’t flying toward me. They were flying toward my soldier. The soft, warm emotions that I feel for him don’t match the hard cruelty of his assignment.

“Will you wait for me?” he asks.

Blowing winds and stinging sand are standard issue for my soldier. Blowing rain and stinging tears are standard issue for me. He wields an M16, while I wield a pen and a toothbrush.

“Will you remember what I look like?” he asks. Missing someone means that they are a necessary part of your whole. Otherwise, you wouldn’t miss them. They would be extra and you wouldn’t need them.

I wring my hands. One bullet screams through the silence. Saying goodbye again is better than saying goodbye for a final time. He carries ammo through the Iraqi desert; I carry thoughts of him with me always. It’s tough, but the echoes grow quiet. He’s tough, but my soldier is constantly missing home and family. If he can stay alive, then I can live with the expectation of uncertainty.

I told him he was worth it, when he called to say goodbye.

14

First printed nineteen hundred forty-nine,jaundice-paged and bone brittle,the cardboard casingover the spine folds

down like flaps on a cereal boxexposing shriveled binding;broken down glue husk offlaky liver spots.

A section for neologismsREVISED 1965first entry is A-bomband the last is

war crime. Deckle edges of pageslook blood-flecked, unaligned, andpenciled just inside:$1.99

Found Dictionary Deahna Fumarol

15“Blockmaker”Talia FilipekPhotography

16 “The Painter”Amy Tacchini

Monotype Print on BFK

17

Stately she,My sacred coffee girl—Our wild struggle is the ancient condition.I lick her cup of lushRainfall and earth secret,Discover fresh sanctuary,Coaxed up from deep moistRich brown places of spring.Heat thrives between my lips.

My Sacred Coffee Girl Feygon Nickerson

18 The literal cocktail party phenom-enon; everything pushes into walls and faces blur. Traces of heart-ache

make way over to the punch and leave puddles of blood under their owners. They rust on excuses, but it seems unnecessary for their crime. Committed to memory, committed to fate, they spend hours making small talk with their date. They spend a long time thinking about their wounds. People claim that “no one will out me on this one,” but I know to update myself. The future is yet to come and we only have ourselves.

Slowly I suffocate in my bubble. The sparks and butterflies and God-awful-heat are all putting up one hellofa fight! Tell a simple lie for a simple time. It’s just another some-thing for me to forget. Like my cloves on the kitchen counter.

Shit, I left them there again. I am going crazy with all these artsy artists and the mess that they leave. Alcohol and drugs every-where. I am feeling sick of all this cheerful poetry coming from lips that could fill my entire emptiness if they chose to tell the truth or anything other than those awful words. They couldn’t fill my emptiness if they tried. Fake sadness is worse than virtual death, for at least death can cause honest pain.

Now I have no choice but to retrieve my cigarettes from the other room. Nothing is worse than being a hypocrite. So I go. And slink against the walls. I am invisible, even when I try not to be. But this is one of those lucky moments where what I am matches who

I want to be.Dylan is standing over the bowl of chips.

My cloves are near the bowl. The chips are orange and radioactive, and I wonder if just looking at them will harm me in any way.

It’s this moment—a flirt with life, a win-dow of hope. It’s my chance to survive and to adapt with my fellow human. Only between despair and violence can I resist until insanity. I’ll die quitting. Remember that. Don’t ever try to save me. I’ve known myself longer than I’ve known anybody.

Dylan looks up at me. His hands have already turned the color of sunrise. Torn up skin tells no tales of what has been quoted numerous times under bullet hole stars. He says that everything is falling into a category box, overflowing with the desire to run away and to ruin something new. I understand him perfectly. I agree, but can’t nod my head.

We’ve pledged to accompany each other but don’t sign a dotted line. There is no need to hurt what is mine. I have already passed away with the last exhale of the earth’s salty air. The residue drips down my cheeks. Death is contagious. It starts over and over again, resurrected in the form of innocence. I feel so scared right now for Dylan’s health.

Confusing true affection with effusive-ness, struggling with the past and resisting the future, I have never felt so alone in an all you can eat buffet. The quintessential dust of man is standing right in front of me eating chips, and I can’t even say hello.

DylanShea Pedersen

19

“Untitled 7, 8, 9 & 11”Nathan CarmichaelDigital Painting

20

Whether it be rubbing mouths raw with a Pink Pearl, or the soap soap soap:

some things will flat out notcome clean.

Eraser Deahna Fumarol

21“Personal Space”Jessica Marshall

Graphite

22“Still Life”

Devan Woods Pen & Ink

23

Thou shall not killI won’tUnless it’s a spiderThen I will

I wiped the little WingedBodies from the carIn the carwash

I found an antCrushedStuck to the bottomOf my shoe

Yesterday, I swattedA flyThat had been trappedIn my room

Thou shall not killI won’tUnless it’s small

Little Murder Michael Stoneberg

24

I.

Cowards gave mePoints in case

The camera

flinched—

Don’t let them see

you cry. Most were

Gentle With their words.

II.

Saturdays wePracticed

Iconoclasm

While the city

Explained the rightWay to undress

A girl with yourEyes.

III.

Father was aSmile:

The first

PictureTaken from space,Or my room.

Grayscale,But still

A smile.

Tips for Taking Photographs at Great DistancesJonathan Peacock

25

“Human Nature”Amanda Boundsphotograpy

26

S he walks out of the bathroom, wiping the back of her wrist over her lips. The blinds splinter the invading sunlight, dripping it

over his face, waking him. He yawns, stretching his arms overhead, and leans toward the empty side of the bed, pats it softly.

She sits, running her nails through his short brown hair. “Long night?”

“Yeah.” He takes her hand, kisses a knuckle. Pushing against the mattress, he comes to sit. “You’re not wearing your ring.”

“No.”“Why?”“It’s too big.” She twirls her opposite pointer

around her naked ring finger. “I think I’ve lost some weight.”

“In your finger?”“It kept slipping off, okay?”He swings out of bed, thumps to the bathroom.

The medicine cabinet door slaps the wall, followed by the rattle of aspirin opening and water flowing. He chops down on the light switch, walking back into the bedroom.

“I thought you didn’t drink last night,” she says, lying down, pulling a pillow over her stomach.

“I didn’t.”“Why the Advil, then?”He stands at his dresser, leaning against it with

his forearm. Tapping his fingers lightly, he swivels his head towards her. “Am I not allowed to have a headache?”

“Well it seems weird, that’s all.” Hugging the pillow, she sits up. “You’re out all night, sober, and the next morning you have a throbbing headache.”

“It’s not throbbing.”“Sorry, a regular headache.”“We were out late. I told you that.”“It’s just you’ve . . . nothing.” She flicks her wrist,

as if shooting a basketball. “No, what?”“Well, you’ve been out late before . . . and . . .”He had pulled a t-shirt from his middle drawer

and now wore it only over his arms, up to the shoul-ders, but facing down. Staring at her, his upside-down, half-off shirt covering the curled hairs on his chest, he asks, “And?”

“And you’ve never had a headache the next morning. That’s all I’m saying.”

Laughing skeptically, he births through the neck of his shirt. “That’s not all you’re saying.”

“What am I saying, then?”“You think I drank last night.”She bends her knees to her chest, flattening the

pillow against her, and says, “Did you?”He shakes his head slightly, looking down.“Well?”“I was driving.”“Hasn’t stopped you before.”“Don’t.”“I’m sorry. But . . . you know.”He walks to her side of the bed, sits beside her.

She scoots over as he combs his fingers through her hair. He pulls softly at her shoulder, bringing her neck against his chest, angled. “I’ve told you, I wouldn’t risk it,” he says, circling his palm beneath her tank top, over the smooth swell of her stomach. “I promised.”

Icicles Alex McElroy

27

“I know,” she says, nodding into his chest. “You alright?”She backs off of him, curling her lips into her

mouth. After staring at him for a second, watching his blue eyes grasp the strands of sunlight cutting in, she widens her mouth, smiling.

“Okay,” he says, kissing her cheek. He pushes himself out of bed, walks into the bathroom and runs the water over his toothbrush.

“I’m going to my mom’s today,” she says, the faucet full blast, deafening him.

“Wha?” Spitting, he turns off the water. “I’m going to my mom’s today.”He walks back, stands beside the bed, hands at

his hips. “I don’t get it.” “Get what?”“Well, why are you going?” “I don’t know. I think she’s lonely.” “Is she?”“I don’t know how she couldn’t be. All she has

are the dogs.”He sits down; leaning back against the head-

board, he skates his fingers through his hair. “I’m already packed.”“How?”“Last night. When you were out.”He bends forward, towards her. “Is that what

this is about?”“No. I told you, she’s lonely.”“All of a sudden.”She sneers, looks away quickly. “I don’t control

her feelings.”“What about yours?”“What about mine?”“You think I drank last night.”“I know you did.”He laughs, looking at the ceiling, the pinpricks

of their tiled stucco. “What?”

“You’re going to your mother’s because of an assumption.”

“I’m going because she knows how to be in this situation.”

“I haven’t crashed into anything.”She stares at him, shaking her head, cradling the

base of her stomach.“Oh.”“Yeah. But I better go. I told her I’d be there for

brunch.” She inches towards the edge of the mat-tress, lands her feet on the carpet, standing.

“Do you still love me?”“Of course I do,” she says flatly, pinching down

a blind. An icicle hanging from the roof drips in her line of sight, the sun possessing it; it sparkles like a prism while slowly shrinking higher, dripping onto their windowsill.

“Just checking,” he says, twisting off his wed-ding ring.

28

He sought women of her type erratic, enigmaticNow at the pew rather than the desk the ladies with crosses around their necksHands held high in the morning legs spread wide at nightBut none had yet to satisfy his soul

Each one had an undetectable blemish something gnawing, laughing at himPointing out his errors and the cold hard truth of his twisted, beaten path

Emptiness Amy Zacher

29

“Perseus and the Questfor Medusa’s Head”

Matthew LahmannDigital Painting

30

tight little knotKyla Grasso

It scares the shit out of me I wake up one morning, And this chick I’ve been fucking for like three months is sitting on the front porch of my place

Her hair is down and crumpled,She’s wearing that old college sweatshirt her dog who died over a year ago had chewed holes in, And she’s throwing up in the grass beside the front step her bare feet are resting on

It makes me think babies, mashed peas, high-chairs, dirty diapers and a whole shitload of other things I never wanted It makes me think we’re in too deep

She says it’s nothingSays she would’ve told me if we were in troubleShe says it’s because of the cough she’s had all week

She got up early today Said she wanted to wish the horses a good morning

But I can see now, bloodshot eyes and snot on her sleeves, It wasn’t about the horses; She’d hid away in the loft, and would have cried all day if I wouldn’t have woken up and come looking for her there

I love her, But I can’t have babies

“What about art school?” I ask, but she just pushes me away and tells me it’s not babies, it’s just the flu

We sit in silence the rest of the morning We don’t talk We don’t even move We just wait and see what comes of the mistakes we made, and watch this place tie our world together, pull the knot a little tighter

31

The pronoun,not the numeral, for

this is not a piece in parts.It is entirely

about meand my

self-centered-

ness.

I sometimes thinkmagnanimous

thoughtsand from time to time

I feel things(for others)

as well.

I try tokeep it all

to myself-

centeredself

(but I canat times

be generousenough to share).

If beingcentered

in one’s selfis such self-centered

ness:

Within whose selfshould we be

centered?

I Deahna Fumarol

32

“lost at sea”Sarah Lopez

Acrylic on Canvas

33

“Man & Pig”Justin Smith

Clay Sculpture

34

Okay Mr.Talia Filipek

In a whiskey windHe turned, he grinnedand pushed me into twinea golden messGod won’t you blessthe Man who turns the Time.A moonlight mistakethe dirt to rakesonnets compromise.“Isn’t this nice?”spoke his acoustic device thenhe somersaulted into goodbyes.

35

She walked briskly through the dimly lit subway station, the footsteps of her stilettos echoing

loudly against the faded brick walls. One of the commercial lights flickered as if it could extinguish at any moment. Her eyes darted suspiciously around the deserted station. The walls were wet with condensation, for it was a hot summer night, even by New York stan-dards. What few feet of the walls that wasn’t decorated with loopy and colorful graffiti was plastered with peeling posters demonstrat-ing the proper safety techniques in the event of an emergency. A homeless man, clad in a holey brown tank top (Had it always been that color?) and a pair of faded cutoffs stirred in the corner of the station and mumbled in-audibly towards her. He wasn’t wearing shoes,

and she could see the accumulation of filth marking his toes. She walked faster. A subway whizzed by, and she watched through the windows as the faces of hundreds of strangers blurred into unrecognizable nothingness. The air, thick with humidity, provided tempo-rary relief from the heat as it blew her blond hair into a fan behind her. The lingering scent of urine and oil resided for a moment in her nostrils, but it left as quickly as it had come. She anxiously surveyed the confusing map—a rainbow of differently colored lines intercrossing at certain points, and tried to remember what line she was supposed to take to get home. A bead of sweat tickled her back as it slid down her spine. She shivered slightly, even though it was far from chilly. It was her first time riding the subway at night.

SubwaySarah Paeth

36“What is Beneath”

Deahna FumarolOil on Canvas

37

“Once You Forget to Remember You Remember”Greg LuckerothIntaglio Print

38

Seth Jefferson senior, fine arts

“Icarus,” “Skyscape” (cover/back cover) – Lost: Grey & White pigeon with black bits. Nor-mal size. A bit mangy looking. Does not have a name. Call 619-3745.

Alex Davissenior, zoology

“Bright Ideas” – I found this light bulb nestled against the rocks on a trip to the coast. I was amazed that something so fragile could remain mostly intact after it had been caught in the waves. I adjusted the colors slightly while also sharpening the image to really make the small details “pop” out.

Ali Schlictingsenior, fine arts

“ forest” – This piece is part of a series of surreal landscapes. The paintings are based on how humans interact with the environment and change the landscape as a byproduct of resource consumption.

Andrew Edwardssenior, graphic design

“Futile Words” – This project was assigned with the mission of deconstructing an art manifesto of my choosing and reconstructing in a way so as to show my own personal interpretation of that manifesto. I felt the words and opinions expressed by the author of the manifesto where hollow and substance-less, so I reflected that in

his actual words in this poster.

Jill Macdonald junior, health promotions& health behavior

“Dear Ruth” – I’m fascinated by the way people barrel through one another’s lives. Break ups are often both tragic and humorous and, whether leaving or left, no one ever really seems to have

the faintest idea what they’re doing.

Craig Bidiman junior, english/education

“Moreland Hall’s Bathroom Stalls” – I wrote this poem after being dumbfounded by the ridicu-lous writings I found on the walls of the bath-room stalls in Moreland Hall. Each line comes directly from those stalls. I took time to sit in each stall and type out each of the scribblings and etchings. I contributed the organization and some transitions. Please visit these stalls, you

will never be bored again!

Casey Helton junior, electrical & computer engineering

“Untitled I & II” – In both of these pictures it was spring, March to be exact. It had been quite comfortably warm and sunny, then came an un-expected rain. The rain was light and refreshing. It left all of the beautifully budding and glowing flowers gleaming in a splash of clear cool spheres of water. The perfect opportunity for a macro

photographer.

Marne Elmorejunior, fine arts

“Key” – Sculpture can inspire artists to seek new mediums and experiment with different tech-niques. The benefit of challenging one’s creative expression through utilizing different mediums is very important. Each medium used in the creation of art requires a different approach and

way of thinking as well as problem solving.

Tim Pfarrsenior, new media communications

“No Apologies,” “The Train to Cincinnati” – As a New Media major here at OSU, I spend most of my time working in journalism and video production. However, I love to write fiction on the side, especially in the form of little snip-its

like these. I hope you enjoy reading them!

Lauren Dillardsenior, new media communications“Endurance” – This piece was compiled from

a few blog entries that I had written. My other half, aka boyfriend, is in our nation’s military. I find the urge to write when something moves me emotionally—as this man has. Fear, love, hope and pain are all tangible in this reality.

Deahna Fumarolsenior, fine arts

“Found Dictionary,” “Eraser,” “I,” “What is Beneath” – My work is focused on journeys: de-partures, destinations, and all points in between. The literal and visual translation of individual moments into art is as important to me as the moments themselves. How does one capture a moment? Where do they begin and end? The experiments are ongoing.

Talia Filipeksenior, recreation resource management

“Blockmaker,” “Okay Mr.” – A square malfunc-tion in Earth’s assembly line, do not distribute,

will use as a natural place to set my teacup.

Amy Tacchinisenior, fine arts

“The Painter” – Drawing from life seems to

influence and motivate me most. This work was

one of my first experiments with monotype

and I enjoy how it utilizes the ink while still

referencing my drawing roots. The image itself

is not a self portrait, however, I do find it to have

captured a sense of fatigued focus that as an

artist I can relate to.

Feygon Nickersonsenior, theatre arts

“My Sacred Coffee Girl” – For Amy. This piece was inspired by my first love, when I discovered that the heart’s desire makes no distinction between the mundane and the divine; love challenges every shield constructed to protect a person from pain. I

discovered too late that this is a good thing.

Shea Pedersenfreshman, english

“Dylan” – I write mainly about people and am

Contributors’ Notes

39

concerned about the relationships we have with others and ourselves. Ironically, it seems as though the more we try to understand a soul, the less we know about it. I also like to write about the importance of taking vitamins.

Nathan Carmichaelsenior, applied visual arts

“Untitled 7, 8, 9 & 11” – Nathan likes making pictures. He likes all the different ways there are to make them, but doesn’t like sticky pigments or solvents, so he just fakes it. He also likes cook-ies. Sometimes, Nathan speaks about himself in

the third person. But not always.

Jessica Marshallsophomore, fine arts

“Personal Space” – Most people can identify with making a fort. From the act of creation to the enjoyment of enclosure within, we all know the feeling of privacy and ownership that a fort can give. This piece attempts to capture this idea of personal space through both personal memory

and piece content.

Devan Woodssophomore, graphic design

“Still Life” – This piece is from my reflections study I did in 2007 as I was attending Cheme-keta Community College. Creating a still-life composition was a challenge for me not only because I used permanent ink, but because it forced me to step out of my comfort zone and

create something representational.

Michael Stonebergsenior, english

“Little Murder” – I decided I wanted to use short lines in a poem, and I tried to make the subject

match and not match at the same time.

Jonathan Peacockmfa, poetry

“Tips for Taking Photographs at Great Dis-tances” – This piece assumes a deeply reflective quality, wherein I’ve asked the reader to experi-ence the lines meditatively. The work requires

the reader to assume responsibility for their own emotions, and arrive at a mostly natural conclusion based in part on relationship and

memory—strictly subjective, of course.

Amanda Boundssenior, environmental science

“Human Nature” – This photo was shot with 65mm film, a little light, and two models in an attempt to exemplify humankind’s need to dominate that which we encounter. Human

Nature prevails.

Alex McElroyjunior, english

“Icicles” – Sometimes I respond sincerely when asked “What’s up?” Other times I prefer them to

keep speaking to me.

Amy Zachersenior, political science

“Emptiness” – This is supposed to feel unfin-ished, but the lines that were removed were: “That the one who got away/ would scorn him until his dying day.” I wrote this a couple years back so I don’t remember what I was thinking.

Matthew Lahmannsenior, fine arts

“Perseus and the Quest for Medusa’s Head” – This is a steampunk rendition of the classical myth of Perseus slaying Medusa. Bringing the myth into a new genre was a challenge but one worth

undertaking.

Kyla Grassosenior, environmental science

“tight little knot” – Kyla loves girls, boys, rocks, Rhoald Dahl and her dog, Abi, who’s probably run into you before. grew up in Maine, but is here in Oregon for some reason. Furthermore, doesn’t understand why anyone wouldmajor in writing, which is ironic. This is first attempt at many things.

Sarah Lopezsenior, fine arts

“ lost at sea” – I like to paint gnomes.

Justin Smithmba, business

“Man & Pig” – This is a scene that exists as part of my animation portfolio. The characters are constructed of clay and the forest is done in

miniature scale with real wood.

Sarah Paethfreshmen, biology

“Subway” – The inspiration to write “Subway” came after a summer trip to New York City. Like a subway, New York never truly stops—it is always moving, always changing. New York doesn’t wait for anyone. You have to race to keep up with it, because if you pause for just a mo-ment, you miss the quintessential beauty of it all. Call it fast. Call it mayhem. I call it the greatest city in the world.

Greg Luckerothsenior, fine arts“Once You Forget to Remember You Remember” – This artwork was inspired by “The Rebel,” written by Albert Camus. He confronts human existence/mortality and outlines his reasoning

for perseverance of life.

Ryan Schannosenior, graphic design

“Niagra” – This was a photograph I took while visiting the falls in Canada. I was trying to show the power of nature, and the insignificance of humanity. The lighthearted colors represent the false grasp man has on its surroundings.

40

“Niagra”Ryan Schanno

Digital Photomanipulation

submit your:poetry, short fiction, creative non-fiction, painting, sculpture, drawing, illustration,

graphic design, photography, one-act plays, prints, and more.

Open to students only. All majors are welcome to submit work. Students may submit up to 5

pieces per medium each term.

Submission Deadline April 24th, 5pm

prism@oregonstate.eduoregonstate.edu/prismmagazine

When a hollow-point bullet hits a surface, it mushrooms and continues to spin. It causes maximum damage with the least amount of effort.

“Endurance ”

Lauren Dillard, pg. 13