4X4 Student Collaborative
Wachusett’s 4x4 Exhibition was a collaborative installation of professional and student work in various disciplines and mediums in the school’s Bowes Art Gallery. When our exhibition opened on February 14th, it contained work from the Worcester area's 4x4 Poet and Artist Collaborative. Their group was established in 2008 by photographer Susan Sedgwick and poet Susan Roney-O’Brien. As more members joined, an array of different media arose from their collaborative process. The group's monthly meetings became so productive that the artists began entering shows. Not long after, the name “4x4” was given to the group by poet Dan Lewis.
The 4X4 artists work collaboratively by finding inspiration in each other’s art. A visual artist might read a poem and become inspired to create a new work. A poet might listen to a musical composition and write a poem inspired by that song. Our students tried the same creative process with each others’ work.
As time went by, our 4x4 show displayed its true colors. The focal point was the collaborative process that the student groups used for inspiration. Students from different ELA and Art classes were able to create a stunning combination of poetry, writing, photography, digital media, music, and fine art.
Matthew Sweet, Student Curator
The 4X4 artists work collaboratively by finding inspiration in each other’s art. A visual artist might read a poem and become inspired to create a new work. A poet might listen to a musical composition and write a poem inspired by that song. Our students tried the same creative process with each others’ work.
As time went by, our 4x4 show displayed its true colors. The focal point was the collaborative process that the student groups used for inspiration. Students from different ELA and Art classes were able to create a stunning combination of poetry, writing, photography, digital media, music, and fine art.
Matthew Sweet, Student Curator
Untitled
Zoe Yanco Some seek materialistic goods Others seek adventure Some need plans While others live in the moment Although he seemed to have no destination in mind He knew exactly where he was headed “Not all who wander are lost” was the saying that he lived by Others may never understand the concept But to the man in the mountains, it was live or die The peak's tips flirted with the cotton mounds And the sun danced with the horizon The weight of his pack pushed down on him And the pressure made the snow encase his feet The arrow toggled between two directions But the man's mind was set The man may have strayed from the beaten path Yet he always knew what lay ahead |
Perpetual Decent
Keara McAuliffe I once dwelt in the world of happiness and light, but I fell. So far down to the world where people bleed black blood and the night is perpetual. This “land,” my mind, is always engulfed in darkness. There is a man, a man who resides in the land of light. He tries to bring me back there. He takes my hand and tries with all his might to drag me back. What he doesn’t know is that I belong here. I don’t deserve to go back to that world of dance and song. I want to, more than anything, I want to go back. But I am stuck here, where the flowers wilt and have thorns that cut and scratch at me until I can’t recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. I can’t stand that reflection. The man takes my scarred hands in his. He tells me that it doesn’t have to be this way. That I should get help. He’s probably right. But how could I admit that I’m trapped in a world of my own design? I desperately want to go with him, as if it would return the air to my lungs that has long since departed. I want, no, need to leave this place. I’m withering away to nothing in this wasteland of self-hatred. It’s clear to me now. If I made this place then I can destroy it. If I want to go with this man, I have to claw my way back into his world. So I grip his hand harder, and I fight. |
Mister Monster
Delaney DeNorscia
Hello mister monster
Who lurks under my bed
That follows me all day
And stalks me like prey in the shadows
Who makes it hard to sleep
Because you latch onto my brain
And drive me insane
Making sure that chaos is thriving
The driving force of what scares me most
Who doesn't let me talk to anyone
Because you tell me they all hate me
I know I'm a burden to them
But still you berate me
Keeping a tight grip on my life
Like a ravenous parasite
Zeroing in on the people staring
Who are actually genuine and caring
But I know you block that out too
For distortion is your talent
And paranoia is your battle cry
It's clear I can't get rid of you
I think we both know why
We're one in the same
Trapped together we remain
Mister monster, you're my shadow
And my mind is your domain
Delaney DeNorscia
Hello mister monster
Who lurks under my bed
That follows me all day
And stalks me like prey in the shadows
Who makes it hard to sleep
Because you latch onto my brain
And drive me insane
Making sure that chaos is thriving
The driving force of what scares me most
Who doesn't let me talk to anyone
Because you tell me they all hate me
I know I'm a burden to them
But still you berate me
Keeping a tight grip on my life
Like a ravenous parasite
Zeroing in on the people staring
Who are actually genuine and caring
But I know you block that out too
For distortion is your talent
And paranoia is your battle cry
It's clear I can't get rid of you
I think we both know why
We're one in the same
Trapped together we remain
Mister monster, you're my shadow
And my mind is your domain
“Teach your daughters...”
Eileen Xu The room is all glass, fragile and easily broken- like a heart. Yet it is difficult for the one inside to force her way out. Does she not realize how easily her confines are shattered? She lives restricted. One day, a figure’s footprints appear on the glass ceiling, but she sees no one. The next day, another layer of prints has appeared, and so the days pass as such. She grows intrigued, wants to see who is above, and then what lies beyond. The view from her window is only that of her elevation, abuzz with life’s little changes but overall stagnant. She may dress like a princess, and live in a beautiful house, but they mean nothing if she is trapped. And a pile of broken glass slippers lies on the ground, delicate so-called “beauty” only achieved by meeting other people’s expectations and following restrictions. What is the point to forcing them on, if they are easily dropped and difficult to walk in? She decides to shatter the glass ceiling barring her way, unfaltering will like a hammer swing. To rise above her confines, and build a path forward. And when she does, the glass breaks, and a ladder descends to her from the heavens. Or has it always been there, waiting for her to take the first step? The girl’s feet are shrunken from trying to fit into the suppressing glass slippers. Still she tries and tries to climb the ladder. When she reaches the top, when she finally sees the tabula rasa of sky above, a hand reaches to her. She doesn’t see the body it connects to, but she takes the hand with a smile, for who else is it but the unknown, possibility-filled future? |
The Mighty Die Too
Jolie Grasso We marvel at the massive dinosaur Who once ruled the earth with a mighty rawr, Who wore scaled armor with swords for claws, And who towered at tremendous heights Which continue to fill us with terrified excitement. We’re filled with awe at the thought Of the fearsome t-rex, And remember the raptors with rapture, But these glorified godzillas are long gone, Extinct. The ravenous beasts which fought tooth and nail every day Just to survive, The monsters who clawed their way into Hollywood blockbusters Who inhabit the screen and incite the screams of our children, Have died out. Like the snap of a finger, Gone. One instant decided the fate of the dinosaurs, And all that is left- Bones. Now look at yourself. Feeble, fleshy, fragile, Bite size, when in comparison to the dinosaurs. Do you fight for your food with your own hands and mouth? Do you know how to survive on your own, without modern technologies? If the dinos couldn’t make it through the end of the world, What makes you think you will? |