WELCOME TO THE NOVEMBER 2010 EDITION OF LINN COUNTY KIDS CREATE. SCROLL DOWN SLOWLY AND YOU WILL FIND PHOTOS, POEMS, PAINTINGS, STORIES (INCLUDING PART OF A NOVEL IN PROGRESS AND THE START OF A STORY IN PROGRESS), AND DRAWINGS. THERE ARE SELF-PORTRAITS AND EMOTIONAL PORTRAITS AND INSPIRATIONAL WORKS OF ART. IN THE END, YOU WILL BE CONVINCED THAT LINN COUNTY KIDS CREATE.
CAROUSEL
Photo by Kate, Grade 6, Memorial
PEACE
Art by Flavio, AOS
RIDE POSTER
Art and Artist Statement by Dakota, AOS
The title of my piece is “Poster.” The process I took was printing the paper with a picture by tracing it on overhead, detailing it, then painting it. The technique I used was painting. The media I used were paper, pencil, and paint. My inspiration came from biking. I do it every day so that is what I drew. I liked the work because biking is something I like to do so it was fun to draw it.
SELF-PORTRAIT
by Alexandra, grade 7, Memorial
SELF-PORTRAIT
by SeanMarie, grade 7, Memorial
WINTER DAYS
by Mari, grade 6, Memorial
The snow glitters in a winter wonderland
Snowflakes dance down to the crystallized blanket
A narrow wind screams, rattling the unsuspecting tree limbs
Branches murmur under the weight
Of sparkling winter days.
SELF-PORTRAIT
by Alexandria, grade 7, Memorial
SELF-PORTRAIT
by Hanna, grade 7, Memorial
SERENITY
Art and Artist Statement by Sam, AOS
The tile of my art piece is “Serenity.” The technique I used was acrylic painting. The media I used were Sharpie, color pencil, acrylic paint, and fabric paint. To create this piece, I first lined the top of the poster paper to make sure the writing was even. Secondly, I wrote the lettering in pencil, using a font I found from a book. The, I drew the dove and the flower outlines underneath, also using pencil. Then, I went over the pencil outlines with Sharpie and then I used an assortment of acrylic and fabric paints to color in my dove. I used a color pencil to shade the letters of my quote, and then, I signed my poster with a Sharpie. My inspiration for my quote came from a book I was reading. This particular quote really stuck out to me because I’m sort of a “control freak” and it’s something I struggle with every day. I found the picture of my dove on the internet and I thought it was really beautiful. It also went well with my quote. Overall, I am very satisfied with my poster.
OREGON COAST
Photo by Kate, grade 6, Memorial
THE GIRL WHO HAD SUPERPOWERS
Story by Jasmin, grade 6, Memorial
Once upon a time, there was a girl named Emma. Her superpower was shape shifting. She secretly saved the day without telling her mom.
One day after school, her mom was on her way home from work when Emma had to go and save her mom.
When Emma went to go help all of a sudden when her mom yelled, “HELP!!!!!!!!!” When Emma got there, her mom’s car was stuck in a puddle of tar. Emma tried as hard as she could to help her mom. Then she had an idea so she went and turned into a tow truck.
Emma used the hook on the truck and pulled the car out of the tar pool. Emma had to wash her mom’s car three times to get all the tar off.
In the end, Emma’s mom found out that Emma was a superhero. Then, in the end, they lived happily ever after.
One day after school, her mom was on her way home from work when Emma had to go and save her mom.
When Emma went to go help all of a sudden when her mom yelled, “HELP!!!!!!!!!” When Emma got there, her mom’s car was stuck in a puddle of tar. Emma tried as hard as she could to help her mom. Then she had an idea so she went and turned into a tow truck.
Emma used the hook on the truck and pulled the car out of the tar pool. Emma had to wash her mom’s car three times to get all the tar off.
In the end, Emma’s mom found out that Emma was a superhero. Then, in the end, they lived happily ever after.
ZEBRA
Photo by Sarah, grade 6 Memorial
SELF-PORTRAIT
by Emily, grade 7, Memorial
MY MIND
Art and Artist Statement by Flavio, AOS
The title of my drawing is “My Mind.” My first step was to draw in pencil, then pen, and finally color. There was no technique, just what came to my mind. My materials were pencil, pen, paper, and color. My inspiration came from my mind. I liked the piece because it’s abstract and I like that style.
CHIHULY
Photo by Kate, grade 6, Memorial
GIRAFFE
Photo by Sarah, grade 6, Memorial
LOVE ON PAPER
Art and Artist Statement by Tosha, AOS
The title of my paper is “Love on Paper.” First, I thought of what to draw. I was thinking I could draw my name & my boy friend’s or a lot of random things or even both. But then, I saw a picture of a giraffe but that would not fill up the paper. Then, I drew them and filled in the paper (white spaces). I also took colors I like and filled in more of the white spaces. Finally, I went over it to make sure everything was how I wanted it. The technique that I used was drawing. The media I used were pencil, paper, crayons, and colored pencils. My idea came from a book, kinda, because I saw it and wanted to go for it and see how it went. I liked it because I have never done some thing like this piece. I’m proud I completed it because I got stuck after the two giraffes. But I finished it with a smile on my face.
RESCUE?
by SeanMarie, grade 7, Memorial
(Editor’s note: The following is part of a novel in progress. The story is set in an area controlled by a nasty animal dictator (Millitant Eval) against which a small group of animals is fighting. Fang is a leader of the resistance. Tarka, a collie, is in training. She is also the daughter of a revered, deceased resistance leader.)
“Thanks, Hermes.” Fang pulled a few coins out of the pouch he had tied around his leg with his teeth, and dropped them in front of Hermes. “Make sure that you’re not seen with Roswella. The Steelclaws think she is just a silly little house dog, with an addled brain and a short life. If they found out, both yours and Roswella’s would be short. If you get stopped by a soldier, just tell him you’re carrying banking records from manager to owner. They won’t check.”
“I know, I know.” Hermes was clearly was impatient to get going. “Nice meeting you Tarka.” He took off, soaring up through the trees and up into the sky. Despite herself, Tarka liked Hermes. He seemed honest.
“What was in the message? And who is Roswella?” Tarka had to trot to catch up with Fang, who had set off again at a brisk pace.
“One of our spies…” Fang said. “You’ll meet her soon, I bet.”
Tarka’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the morning. Fang purred in amusement. “You’re just like Fidele, always full of questions and always, always hungry.” He led the way back to the clearing where the post office and bakery were. The smell of freshly baked things made her stomach growl louder. She was glad when Fang headed toward the bakery.
However, when she was about to follow she saw out of the corner of her eye a flash of bright, vibrant green. When she turned she saw a silvery gray cat with brilliant emerald staring at her for an instant before the image melted away. A shiver ran down Tarka’s spine, despite the warm weather. Just my imagination thought Tarka. She had almost convinced her self when she remembered Tess’s tale of Tarka and Cecilia. A silver cat with green eyes was what Tess had said Cecilia had been.
“Well are you going to come in, or have you found you can eat thin air?” asked Fang, standing in the door of the bakery. Tarka shook herself mentally, and hurried to join him.
The sign on the bakery read Divine Sustenance. Tarka didn’t know what that meant, but right then she was focused on getting food. So focused in fact that she ran smack into a young corgi inside the bakery. “Sorry.” Tarka muttered, embarrassed.
“It’s fine.” The corgi said. She was striking, black with white and brown highlights on her paws, ears, face and chest. Her liquid gold eyes were kind and warm. Tarka guessed she was about twelve. “Fang’s over there.” The corgi motioned to her left with her head. “My name is Juno; I’m the baker’s daughter. What’s your name?”
“Tarka. Tarka Hale.” Juno looked shocked for a minute, and then lowered her voice.
“I would keep my name to myself if I were you in a place like this. Hale isn’t exactly a common name, and it will identify you as a Resistance member to almost anyone.” Juno smiled good-naturedly. “But who am I to question my betters? Come; let’s join my mom and Fang.”
The baker was a sleek, plump corgi. She was chatting with Fang over the counter while she kneaded bread with her paws. Fang gave Tarka a few coins from the bag around his leg. “Here, buy what you want to eat.” Fang said distractedly. Tarka held the coins in the air with a beam of invisible energy, checking out the edibles for sale. Finally she settled on a small rabbit meat pie. The sign read 4 Piceys.
Tarka gave the baker, who she learned was called Vesta, the money, and took the rabbit pie and wandered outside. She glanced around the town. A sign said it was called Morgon Aron. There was a dry goods store, a fresh produce market, an inn, and some houses. A fairly average little place. The collie ate her rabbit pie sitting by the bakery and watching passersby.
She was about to go back into the bakery when a commotion by the inn caught her eye. Two big, nasty looking dogs stood growling at someone in the shadows. A calico tomcat stood looking on, a look of smug satisfaction spread across his handsome face that made Tarka want to throttle him. She edged closer until she could see the figure in the shadow of the inn. It was a young brown wolf; her ears pinned back on her head in terror, her lips drawn back in a feral snarl. The two brutish dogs moved closer to the she-wolf, menacing snarls on there faces. Tarka was now close enough to hear what was being said.
“This will teach you, you vagabond!” spat the tomcat. Tarka could see dried blood on the brown wolf’s sides and on her face. One of the dogs grabbed the scruffy wolf by the collar, and dragged her out into the street. A small crowd had gathered, and the calico made no effort to disperse them.
“This is what comes of defying the rule of the eternal Militant Eval!” crowed the cat, and struck the ground. This was apparently a signal, because the first of the dogs leapt with surprising grace onto the wolf, while the other held her in place. The dog bit and tore at the wolf, but she did not cry out. She held her head at a proud angle, all of her former terror gone, and stared defiantly at the assembled crowd. A murmur of unease spread through the crowd, but nobody made a move to stop the dogs from ripping the wolf apart.
Tarka wasn’t surprised that nobody stood up to Militant Eval’s thugs. She had witnessed such things before, and Mrs. Pearlybolt had always ushered them away quickly. But now… if she was a member of the Resistance, wasn’t it her duty to stop such things? She pushed her way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the odd looks that were cast her way. The tomcat swung around, and when he saw her, and snarled to warn her off. She didn’t pay any attention, instead launching herself at him. The surprised expression on the tomcat’s face filled Tarka with cruel satisfaction. The two dogs did not pause in there merciless torture of the wolf while Tarka and the calico grappled, fighting for ground.
She quickly realized how foolish her idea had been. This cat was clearly a professional, and she had no idea how to fight. The calico managed flip her over on her back, and hold her down. Cats aren’t this strong… What’s going on? He flicked her muzzle with his tail, taunting her.
Tarka snagged his long tail in her mouth, and bit down hard. She felt warm blood seep into her mouth as she severed the tip. The calico yowled in pain, and dug his long claws in her side, ripping the flesh with surprising ease. Pain lanced through Tarka. How could his claws cut so easily? she thought in wonder. She glanced down and saw what she had taken before as bloodstains was the scarlet glint of hardened firesteel, honed to a fine point. Revulsion shot through her along with pain. What kind of monster is he? She glimpsed another red glint, and saw the two dog’s claws were replaced with firesteel as well.
The cat leapt onto her back, but before he could claw her neck, Tarka caught one of his legs in her mouth and tossed him into the mud at the side of the inn. She didn’t have time to catch her breath before the two thuggish dogs noticed the fight, and stood glaring at her. She dove at them without warning, bit down on one’s side and then backed away, only to dive at the other one. This went on for several minutes, for though the big dogs had the advantage of strength, Tarka was much quicker and smarter then they. Finally, one of the blood thirsty dogs caught Tarka in the ribs with a blow that sent her sprawling. Panting with exertion, she lay on the ground as the two dogs loomed over her, the brown wolf temporarily forgotten. This wasn’t a good idea at all… Tarka looked up at them defiantly, though she didn’t have the strength to put up much of a fight. The smaller of the dogs raised his paw, firesteel claws glinting in the midmorning light.
Just before he struck the brown wolf lurched upright and jumped at him. She sunk her fangs deep into the dog’s shoulder and his blow went wide of Tarka. Tarka quickly rolled out of range of the dog’s claws. She jumped to her feet, new energy surging through her, and threw herself at the brutes again. Together she and the brown wolf fought the dogs for what seemed like hours, but could have only been minutes. Finally the smaller dog, the one that the she-wolf had bit, went down, killed by a crushing blow to the head the brown wolf had delivered with her powerful hind legs. The remaining dog was losing ground, his blood lust which had fueled him ebbing.
Tarka and the brown wolf fought shoulder to shoulder. Tarka was relying purely on her untrained instinct, but the brown wolf must have had some training, because she seemed to know exactly what to do to gain an advantage. Slowly they beat down the brute of a dog. At last Tarka had an opening and bit down hard on his neck. Self-disgust filled her, but she held on tightly to his neck until the pulse of blood slowed and he went limp. She was about to say something to the she-wolf when something smacked into her from behind. She spun around and saw the tomcat staring at her with angry eyes.
Suddenly, Fang was on top of the tomcat, tearing at the tom’s fur and distracting him.
It was instinct, pure instinct. Tarka bit into the cat’s throat. His lifeblood flowed into her mouth, salty and bitter. For a moment, she enjoyed the taste, then jerked back, realizing what she had done. The tomcat’s wide open eyes stared at her as his last shuddering breath was exhaled. She turned away from those lifeless eyes to look at the she-wolf.
She was blood-streaked and muddy, weaving on her feet, but must have been beautiful at one time. Her teeth and claws were splattered with blood, and Tarka realized she must look the same. She was too tired to care.
She limped over to the she-wolf; her ribs aching were the dog had struck them, and the
“I suggest we leave the immediate premises.” said the wolf in a soft voice, indicating the crowd, who were gawking at Tarka and the wolf in awe. “It won’t be long until more of Militant Eval’s thugs arrive.” Her voice carried just a hint of an accent that Tarka couldn’t identify. Tarka nodded and looked around for Fang. She saw him standing in the doorway of the bakery, a look of pride on his scarred face. She didn’t feel proud of herself. She had just done what had to be done, and she hated the fact she had ended two lives that day.
“Do you want to come with me?” Tarka asked, turning back to the wolf, still thinking about the animals she killed. The wolf nodded.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” she said simply. Tarka and the she-wolf walked back to the bakery, ignoring the curious looks people gave them. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off now, and she felt more tired then she ever had before.
Fang followed them wordlessly out of Morgon Aron. Once they were a safe distance from the town Tarka halted and turned to the wolf. “Who are you?” asked Tarka bluntly, and then realized that it was rude. “I – sorry, um…”
“No, its fine.” said the she-wolf. “My name is Rowan Artemis Wilder.”
Fang looked shocked, and then a snarl formed on his lips. “Wilder.” he said, and it sounded almost like a curse. He crouched, ready to spring on the wolf.
“Thanks, Hermes.” Fang pulled a few coins out of the pouch he had tied around his leg with his teeth, and dropped them in front of Hermes. “Make sure that you’re not seen with Roswella. The Steelclaws think she is just a silly little house dog, with an addled brain and a short life. If they found out, both yours and Roswella’s would be short. If you get stopped by a soldier, just tell him you’re carrying banking records from manager to owner. They won’t check.”
“I know, I know.” Hermes was clearly was impatient to get going. “Nice meeting you Tarka.” He took off, soaring up through the trees and up into the sky. Despite herself, Tarka liked Hermes. He seemed honest.
“What was in the message? And who is Roswella?” Tarka had to trot to catch up with Fang, who had set off again at a brisk pace.
“One of our spies…” Fang said. “You’ll meet her soon, I bet.”
Tarka’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since the morning. Fang purred in amusement. “You’re just like Fidele, always full of questions and always, always hungry.” He led the way back to the clearing where the post office and bakery were. The smell of freshly baked things made her stomach growl louder. She was glad when Fang headed toward the bakery.
However, when she was about to follow she saw out of the corner of her eye a flash of bright, vibrant green. When she turned she saw a silvery gray cat with brilliant emerald staring at her for an instant before the image melted away. A shiver ran down Tarka’s spine, despite the warm weather. Just my imagination thought Tarka. She had almost convinced her self when she remembered Tess’s tale of Tarka and Cecilia. A silver cat with green eyes was what Tess had said Cecilia had been.
“Well are you going to come in, or have you found you can eat thin air?” asked Fang, standing in the door of the bakery. Tarka shook herself mentally, and hurried to join him.
The sign on the bakery read Divine Sustenance. Tarka didn’t know what that meant, but right then she was focused on getting food. So focused in fact that she ran smack into a young corgi inside the bakery. “Sorry.” Tarka muttered, embarrassed.
“It’s fine.” The corgi said. She was striking, black with white and brown highlights on her paws, ears, face and chest. Her liquid gold eyes were kind and warm. Tarka guessed she was about twelve. “Fang’s over there.” The corgi motioned to her left with her head. “My name is Juno; I’m the baker’s daughter. What’s your name?”
“Tarka. Tarka Hale.” Juno looked shocked for a minute, and then lowered her voice.
“I would keep my name to myself if I were you in a place like this. Hale isn’t exactly a common name, and it will identify you as a Resistance member to almost anyone.” Juno smiled good-naturedly. “But who am I to question my betters? Come; let’s join my mom and Fang.”
The baker was a sleek, plump corgi. She was chatting with Fang over the counter while she kneaded bread with her paws. Fang gave Tarka a few coins from the bag around his leg. “Here, buy what you want to eat.” Fang said distractedly. Tarka held the coins in the air with a beam of invisible energy, checking out the edibles for sale. Finally she settled on a small rabbit meat pie. The sign read 4 Piceys.
Tarka gave the baker, who she learned was called Vesta, the money, and took the rabbit pie and wandered outside. She glanced around the town. A sign said it was called Morgon Aron. There was a dry goods store, a fresh produce market, an inn, and some houses. A fairly average little place. The collie ate her rabbit pie sitting by the bakery and watching passersby.
She was about to go back into the bakery when a commotion by the inn caught her eye. Two big, nasty looking dogs stood growling at someone in the shadows. A calico tomcat stood looking on, a look of smug satisfaction spread across his handsome face that made Tarka want to throttle him. She edged closer until she could see the figure in the shadow of the inn. It was a young brown wolf; her ears pinned back on her head in terror, her lips drawn back in a feral snarl. The two brutish dogs moved closer to the she-wolf, menacing snarls on there faces. Tarka was now close enough to hear what was being said.
“This will teach you, you vagabond!” spat the tomcat. Tarka could see dried blood on the brown wolf’s sides and on her face. One of the dogs grabbed the scruffy wolf by the collar, and dragged her out into the street. A small crowd had gathered, and the calico made no effort to disperse them.
“This is what comes of defying the rule of the eternal Militant Eval!” crowed the cat, and struck the ground. This was apparently a signal, because the first of the dogs leapt with surprising grace onto the wolf, while the other held her in place. The dog bit and tore at the wolf, but she did not cry out. She held her head at a proud angle, all of her former terror gone, and stared defiantly at the assembled crowd. A murmur of unease spread through the crowd, but nobody made a move to stop the dogs from ripping the wolf apart.
Tarka wasn’t surprised that nobody stood up to Militant Eval’s thugs. She had witnessed such things before, and Mrs. Pearlybolt had always ushered them away quickly. But now… if she was a member of the Resistance, wasn’t it her duty to stop such things? She pushed her way to the front of the crowd, ignoring the odd looks that were cast her way. The tomcat swung around, and when he saw her, and snarled to warn her off. She didn’t pay any attention, instead launching herself at him. The surprised expression on the tomcat’s face filled Tarka with cruel satisfaction. The two dogs did not pause in there merciless torture of the wolf while Tarka and the calico grappled, fighting for ground.
She quickly realized how foolish her idea had been. This cat was clearly a professional, and she had no idea how to fight. The calico managed flip her over on her back, and hold her down. Cats aren’t this strong… What’s going on? He flicked her muzzle with his tail, taunting her.
Tarka snagged his long tail in her mouth, and bit down hard. She felt warm blood seep into her mouth as she severed the tip. The calico yowled in pain, and dug his long claws in her side, ripping the flesh with surprising ease. Pain lanced through Tarka. How could his claws cut so easily? she thought in wonder. She glanced down and saw what she had taken before as bloodstains was the scarlet glint of hardened firesteel, honed to a fine point. Revulsion shot through her along with pain. What kind of monster is he? She glimpsed another red glint, and saw the two dog’s claws were replaced with firesteel as well.
The cat leapt onto her back, but before he could claw her neck, Tarka caught one of his legs in her mouth and tossed him into the mud at the side of the inn. She didn’t have time to catch her breath before the two thuggish dogs noticed the fight, and stood glaring at her. She dove at them without warning, bit down on one’s side and then backed away, only to dive at the other one. This went on for several minutes, for though the big dogs had the advantage of strength, Tarka was much quicker and smarter then they. Finally, one of the blood thirsty dogs caught Tarka in the ribs with a blow that sent her sprawling. Panting with exertion, she lay on the ground as the two dogs loomed over her, the brown wolf temporarily forgotten. This wasn’t a good idea at all… Tarka looked up at them defiantly, though she didn’t have the strength to put up much of a fight. The smaller of the dogs raised his paw, firesteel claws glinting in the midmorning light.
Just before he struck the brown wolf lurched upright and jumped at him. She sunk her fangs deep into the dog’s shoulder and his blow went wide of Tarka. Tarka quickly rolled out of range of the dog’s claws. She jumped to her feet, new energy surging through her, and threw herself at the brutes again. Together she and the brown wolf fought the dogs for what seemed like hours, but could have only been minutes. Finally the smaller dog, the one that the she-wolf had bit, went down, killed by a crushing blow to the head the brown wolf had delivered with her powerful hind legs. The remaining dog was losing ground, his blood lust which had fueled him ebbing.
Tarka and the brown wolf fought shoulder to shoulder. Tarka was relying purely on her untrained instinct, but the brown wolf must have had some training, because she seemed to know exactly what to do to gain an advantage. Slowly they beat down the brute of a dog. At last Tarka had an opening and bit down hard on his neck. Self-disgust filled her, but she held on tightly to his neck until the pulse of blood slowed and he went limp. She was about to say something to the she-wolf when something smacked into her from behind. She spun around and saw the tomcat staring at her with angry eyes.
Suddenly, Fang was on top of the tomcat, tearing at the tom’s fur and distracting him.
It was instinct, pure instinct. Tarka bit into the cat’s throat. His lifeblood flowed into her mouth, salty and bitter. For a moment, she enjoyed the taste, then jerked back, realizing what she had done. The tomcat’s wide open eyes stared at her as his last shuddering breath was exhaled. She turned away from those lifeless eyes to look at the she-wolf.
She was blood-streaked and muddy, weaving on her feet, but must have been beautiful at one time. Her teeth and claws were splattered with blood, and Tarka realized she must look the same. She was too tired to care.
She limped over to the she-wolf; her ribs aching were the dog had struck them, and the
“I suggest we leave the immediate premises.” said the wolf in a soft voice, indicating the crowd, who were gawking at Tarka and the wolf in awe. “It won’t be long until more of Militant Eval’s thugs arrive.” Her voice carried just a hint of an accent that Tarka couldn’t identify. Tarka nodded and looked around for Fang. She saw him standing in the doorway of the bakery, a look of pride on his scarred face. She didn’t feel proud of herself. She had just done what had to be done, and she hated the fact she had ended two lives that day.
“Do you want to come with me?” Tarka asked, turning back to the wolf, still thinking about the animals she killed. The wolf nodded.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.” she said simply. Tarka and the she-wolf walked back to the bakery, ignoring the curious looks people gave them. The adrenaline from the fight was wearing off now, and she felt more tired then she ever had before.
Fang followed them wordlessly out of Morgon Aron. Once they were a safe distance from the town Tarka halted and turned to the wolf. “Who are you?” asked Tarka bluntly, and then realized that it was rude. “I – sorry, um…”
“No, its fine.” said the she-wolf. “My name is Rowan Artemis Wilder.”
Fang looked shocked, and then a snarl formed on his lips. “Wilder.” he said, and it sounded almost like a curse. He crouched, ready to spring on the wolf.
FRIEND
Drawing by Phoebe, grade 6, Memorial
LOVE
Art and Artist Statement by Shannon, AOS
The title of my piece is, “All You Need Is Love.” First, I drew the sketch, then I transferred it onto paper, then I painted it. The media I used were pencil, paper, ruler, paint brush, and acrylic paint. My inspiration came from love. I like it because I believe love is a powerful feeling.
RESPECT
Art and Artist Statement by Kristen, AOS
The title of my art piece is “Respect.” The techniques I used were drawing, painting and color. The materials I used were pencil, paper, eraser, ruler, paint and sharpie. The process it took for me to make the piece was as follows: First, I grabbed a piece of paper, then I started to draw the outline of my piece, then I started putting details into it. Finally, I painted in my piece to make it colorful. My idea for this piece came from what I have been taught to do. I liked this piece because it was colorful but I did not like it because it looked sloppy.
EMOTION
Art and Artist Statement by Suzy, AOS
The title of my art piece is “Emotion.” I feel I gave a lot of technique, starting from shading with my ebony pencil, ending with my mere imagination. The medium or material that I used for my piece was a plain ebony pencil with dark graphite. My inspirations were my feelings and my daughter. I really thought that these two would help me build a better image of what to draw. In the end, I really desired my art piece because I noticed that I really did all the lines I should have and it was personal.
SDRAWKCAB
by Audrey, grade 6, Memorial
When you’re feeling backwards,
And don’t know what to do,
Up is down and down is up
And all is crazy too.
There’s pickle juice on Mom’s white dress
The kitchen’s not a big ol’ mess
And if that’s not strange enough,
Your sister’s wearing pink?
Your mother isn’t so uptight
It’s stranger than you think.
Then Mom snaps out of her trance.
She says it’s time for school,
Believing it was backwards has made me a fool.
SELF-PORTRAIT
by Sydney, grade 7, Memorial
SELF-PORTRAIT
by Madelyn, grade 7, Memorial
HEAVEN
Art and Artist Statement by Lacey, AOS
The title of my art piece is “Heaven.” The process I took to make it was first drawing on the words, the outlining them all in black. I re-traced the words in white so they could be easily read. Last, I splattered on some sparkles for stars. My technique was painting. Paint, paintbrush, paper and pencil were the materials I used. The inspiration for this piece was derived from an amazing band called “The Spill Canvas” whose frontman, Nick Thomas, is one of the most genius artist I know. He wrote the quote, “Heaven’s not a place that you go when you die. It’s that moment in life when you actually feel alive. So live for the moment.” It means that you shouldn’t wait until you’re dead to experience heaven. Embrace the “heaven” in every single day of your life & always live for the moment. I like this piece because it includes one of my favorite (school appropriate) quotes.
MONKEY
Photo by Sarah, grade 6, Memorial
THE MAN IN THE WINDOW
A suspenseful beginning by Cheyce, grade 7, Memorial
The kids looked out of the window and saw a man. He was shedding his skin. The kids could not believe their eyes! As they peered curiously out the window at this thing, who was growing hair out of his back at this time, it turned and saw them. The kids ducked. They were whispering and then there was silence as the window fogged up. The kids took a deep breath. When they thought it was clear they looked out of the window, but the thing had vanished. Just as they thought everything was back to normal, they heard a growl and turned around to find the thing standing right behind them. To be continued…
UNIVERSAL HUMAN
Art and Artist Statement by DeShane, AOS
“Universal Human” I wanted to add depth to the piece, so I went ahead and made the tunnel that goes to the Universe. It shows that every person has endless qualities, that mankind is extraordinary, and they have endless possibilities. I liked using shading, color, and contrast. Paint, felt tip, and paint were my media. I like the work.
PURPLE DRAGON
Art and Artist Statement by Tony, AOS
“Purple Dragon” I first looked up Chinese Characters that stood for Dragon, Love, Heart. I then proceeded to draw the symbols. I then used multiple types of lines to fill in the white with purple and black colors. I drew the entire thing with colored pencils and ebony on paper.
The inspiration behind the piece was merely that I enjoy drawing Chinese symbols and that purple and black is my favorite color combination. I like my piece because of the color and symbols.
The inspiration behind the piece was merely that I enjoy drawing Chinese symbols and that purple and black is my favorite color combination. I like my piece because of the color and symbols.
ABORIGINAL
Art by Ayla, AOS
I THINK I CAN
Art and Artist Statement by Ora, AOS
The title of my artist statement is “I think I can.” The process that I used was that I sketched what I wanted to draw, then, I painted inside the sketch. The technique I used was contrast of lights and darks and texture. The materials that I used were a pencil, acrylic paint, and Sharpie. My inspiration for this piece was the children’s story, “The Little Train That Could” because it represents courage with the fact that the train still went up the hill after he found out that he could possibly not make it up the hill.
ROADS
Art by Daniel, AOS
COURAGE
Art and Artist Statement by Ashley, AOS
The title of my art piece is “Courage.” First, I thought of which letter from the word “ROCKS” I wanted to do a poster on. Then, I researched quotes on COURAGE until I found one I could work with. After that, I did an outline of a drawing that matched up with my quote. Finally, I put it all together and painted after I drew it out. The technique I used was acrylic paint. I believe it’s better because it dries fast. The materials I used were pencil, paper, paint, eraser and sharpie. My idea just came because I like to draw hands. I didn’t really like the work because of all the time I spent putting lines in the hands and feet that got covered up by the paint.
HIPPO
Photo by Sarah, grade 6, Memorial
