SCAN: Fall 2010

SCAD AT L A N TA ' S S T U D E N T M AGA Z I N E
FA L L 2 0 10 » VO L . 3 , N O. 1

GPB
C E L E B RA T E S
TABLE OF CONTENTS
» GRAPHIC NOVELS WORTH THE TIME 5
Photography GORAN JOVANOVIC Three graphic novels that push the boundaries of "super."
Model NATALIA YEPES
Dress MAKEN IMCHA » CREATIVE WRITING: MOSEY JO 6
A charming story of bathtime through the eyes of a child.
OF PROG R AMMING » CREATIVE WRITING: ALL ALL ALL
E X C E L L E N C E 8
The impact a simple jump rope can have on a life.

ABOUT THE ISSUE » CREATIVE WRITING: ECHOES OF THE PAST 10
Celebrate 50 years of broadcasting excellence with Georgia Public Broadcasting. This year, GPB is unveiling three An afternoon expedition is not what it seems.
Behind every great work of art is a story,
new documentaries which highlight some of our state’s most fascinating people and stories.
and behind every story is a work of art. » DRAWING INSIDE THE LINES 14
As If We Were We at SCAN have always been fascinated by
When a simple drawing assignment takes over your life.
the power of storytelling, and have decided
to dedicate this issue to the way people
» CREATIVE WRITING: POETRY 18
Y O U C A N B E A P A R T O F I T A L L express their ideas, either written or visual.
A collection of creative poems from SCAD students.
Whether you are a writer using your pen to
Visit gpb.org/50th-anniversary for more information and view clips from Augusta’s Master Plan, As If We Were
Ghosts and Margaret Mitchell. explore worlds both real and unreal, an art
» MEDIUM VS. MESSAGE 20
director trying to convey an idea through
Debating the merits of photography and illustration in design.
You can also learn more about all of the programs airing on GPB Television and GPB Radio, GPB’s award-winning art and copy or a sequential artist telling a
newscasts, and the outstanding educational resources GPB provides to teachers and students across Georgia. tale through pictures, the medium is only
half the message. The expression of ideas
» SHOWCASE 22
Spotlighting work from Sequential Art and Arts Administration.
that comes from our own creativity, or our
worth sharing
own experiences, resonates most. »
» WORLD TRENDS: VENICE 26
How Do You Get GPB? For a complete list of stations, programming information or GPB membership questions, visit www.gpb.org, email ask@gpb.org or call GPB Member & Audience Services at
1.800.222.4788 or 404.685.4788 in the Atlanta area. Explore and get lost in the mystique of the Italian city.

FALL 2 0 10 » SCAN MAGAZINE 1

Staff Contributors
Editor-In-Chief JENNIFER MESTRE

Managing Editor MARK ZIEMER

Art Director BRITTANY KRON

Copy Editor ALEXANDRA SOWERS NATALIA YEPES MERRITT PEDRICK GORAN JOVANOVIC SHAMIKA MAXIE
Model, Cover Artist, Cover Photographer, Cover, Hair, Cover
Drawing Inside the Lines
P.R. Director LAWREN MCCORD
(NOT PICTURED)

Lifestyle Editor ALLIE JEMISON

Photo Editor SEAN WRIGHT

Illustrations Editor ARTHUR BALL
(NOT PICTURED) RENÈE DUNN KERRY BURKE JOHN CREWS HILARY SMITH
Designer, Mosey Jo, Writer, Mosey Jo Model, Drawing Inside the Writer/Illustrator,
Web Director AZEM ODU All, All, All Lines, Illustrator, Mosey Jo Echoes of the Past

Ad Sales Rep SHANTAY ROBINSON

Ad Sales Rep ELENA VIPERA

TORIA MUNOZ YAIR HOENIG KELVIN PARKER RACHEL CHAIKOF
Writer, Writer, I Walk Back Writer, Forgone Conclusion Photographer, World Trends
The Death of an Inner Child
About SCAN Magazine
SCAN is the quarterly student magazine

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2 SCAN MAGAZINE » FA L L 2 0 10 FALL 2 0 10 » SCAN MAGAZINE 3

Those unfamiliar with the comic book subculture may think that all comic
books are about colorful characters powing and zapping their way through
the seedy underworld of some poorly lit, make-believe city. Well, those gen-

GRAPHIC NOVELS
eralizations are wrong. Comics are a visual telling of drama; they are about
fantasy and reality crashing together. Like traditional books, they can span

WORTH THE TIME
all genres and tackle all topics. The following is a great selection of comics
that may open a world of possibilities to new readers and avid fans alike. »

Written by ARTHUR BALL

BONE: THE COMPLETE AMERICAN JESUS SUPERMAN: RED SON
CARTOON EPIC IN ONE VOLUME BOOK ONE: CHOSEN THE DELUXE EDITION
by Jeff Smith by Mark Millar by Mark Millar

This book comically follows three Jesus is back and living in the American Have you ever wondered what Superman
cousins through a mythical world of Northwest. He's 12 years old, way too would be like if he was raised in Com-
monsters, dragons and wacky times. young to drink, but can turn water into munist Russia? If so, then, this is the
The comic is illustrated entirely in black wine. Seriously, though, this book is deep book for you. Adopted by Joseph Stalin,
and white and will have you chuckling and controversial. How should a kid Superman helps Russia conquer the
at every page. “Bone” has won several react when he finds out that he is Christ? world for the Communist cause. The only
awards nationally and globally, one of Pick up this three issue series before the thing that stands in his way is the United
which was Best Comic Book by the comic is made into a movie; the twist at States and its president, Lex Luthor.
National Cartoonist Society. the end will boggle your brain.

FALL 2 0 10 » SCAN MAGAZINE 5

Creative Writing
» FI CT I O N
Baths is one of ‘em. Somethin’ I like doin’ I hate Randy Dinkle. He’s a fat kid with
slow, that is. Mama always knows how to orange freckles splattered all over his face
draw a bath just right — not too hot and and he always steps on my heels when he
not too cold. She squirts lots of Ivory soap walks behind me in line. Every time I tell ‘im
in the water as it rushes from the faucet. to stop or I’ll punch his lights out, he throws
Mama leaves the washroom and I quickly his big round head back and laughs with a
undress, dropping my dirty clothes on the mouth full of crooked teeth. One of these
floor. Goosebumps wash over me, so I get days, I’m gonna forget my manners and sock
in the suds real fast. I love to bathe in the ‘im a good one, but for now, I’ll practice by
Ivory bubbles. Sometimes, I scoop the suds stuffin’ dirty suds down the drain.
up in my hands and decorate my head. I
Written by Kerry Burke | Illustrated by John Crews like to pretend that I’m Ms. Margaret from After I dry off, I wrap my towel round me
down the street. She always wears a big straw like a cape. I am Super Woman. Wonder
Daddy named me Josephine, after his hat when she works in her garden. Mama Woman. I am …
mother, and Mama named me Elizabeth, says she talks to herself and Daddy says she
after her sister who died. I guess they put see-nile. I think she’s nice ‘cause she always “Mosey?”
the names together and came up with gives me milk and cookies when I help her
Josephine Elizabeth — Jo Beth for short. weed her garden. “I’m goin’ …”
But I’m not called by any of those names.
My name’s Mosey Jo. Sometimes, I like to stretch myself out in the Walkin’ down the hall, I can hear my damp
bath. I rest my head against the back of the feet kinda slappin’ the floor. In my room,
Mama started callin’ me Mosey when I tub ‘till the bubbles come up to my chin. I look under my pillow for pajamas, but
was real small ‘cause I took my time doin’ Then, with my feet, I push my toes through they aren’t there. I look under the bed, but
everything. I was slow to crawl, slow to walk the suds like tulips pushin’ up the earth in they aren’t there neither. Then, there are
and slow to talk. ‘Cause I’m my mama’s only Ms. Margaret’s garden, or I make believe heavy foot steps in the hall and I can tell it’s
child, she never knew I was slow at that baby they are puppets puttin’ on a show. Mama Daddy. He comes in my room, taking my
stuff ‘till my Aunt Tedi came over and started says I have a wild imagination and I used pink pajamas with ice cream cones on them
fussin’ over me. Aunt Tedi made faces at my tell her it was her fault ‘cause she didn’t from the knob of my bedroom door before
mama and told her to quit carry’n me ‘cause give me no sisters or brothers to play with. picking up my stuffed giraffe off the floor. I
I was like a growth on my mama’s hip. My Sometimes, I think Daddy wishes he had a wiggle my jammies on and let Daddy throw
mama told her ain’t nothin’ wrong with lovin’ boy instead a me, so I try hard to make ‘im me like a sling shot onto the bed. He leans
a chile and maybe she could stand to learn proud. He says I’m a tomboy. I ain't over and kisses me. His face is scratchy with
a thing or two ‘bout lovin’ babies ‘cause her no tom... salt and pepper prickly hair, but I don’t
baby boy Baxter is all grown and nothin’ but mind ‘cause I love the way he smells. My
trouble. He comes ‘round here ever so offen. “Mosey! I know you’re wrinkled worse than a daddy smells like Christmas — like all those
Like when he needs something. He come prune. Get yourself outa that there tub and needles and pinecones on a tree.
here lookin’ for Daddy to give him money off to bed.”
‘cause Aunt Tedi done kicked him out again. “G’night, Mosey Jo,” he says in his tired
Somethin’ bout him breaking a mirror with “Yes, ma’am!” I holler. I pull the chain on end-of-the-day way.
a bottle, but it was her fault she made him the stopper and feel myself being sucked
crazy mad. He smells bad, my cousin Baxter. down the drain. When all the water is gone, “G’night.”
He smells like a greasy ashtray. Mama says I scrape the leftover suds down to the end
he smells of the devil and all his temptation. of the tub and mash them into the drain’s I fall asleep holding my giraffe in my arms
What Daddy says bout him, I’m not saying open mouth. Whenever I do this, I think of and picture what real giraffes look like
‘cause last time I said it, I got a bar of soap in Randy Dinkle playin’ Chubby Bunny with lopin’ cross the plains of Africa. »
my mouth. But like I was sayin’ before, I like marshmallows at the school lunch table.
takin’ my time doin’ some things. One of these days, he’s gonna throw up!


Creative Writing
» N O N - F I CT I O N

All, All, All immature, especially for a girl, but Double
Dutch never dies. Jumping rope certi-
fies swag for all ages.
one of us would walk the distance from her
house to mine and talk about the plans that
she had to make her life better. Towards the
in together girls end, there wasn’t much that she had to say.
I should have taught Keni how to jump. When she moved back in with her parents,
she seemed to lose her zeal for life and sat
Written by Shantay Robinson | Photo by Sean Wright
With the skill of jumping Double Dutch there day in and day out, taking care of her
comes a certain amount of admiration young daughter and son.
from the boys. As they didn't take the time
to learn it themselves, the boys gave us Yeah, she played softball as a child, but as an
respect for the jumping we did. But being adult, softball teams are far and few between
on a military base at fifteen, the bright red if you’re not part of a corporate league —
lipstick to attract attention came first. Keni and Keni was far from corporate. Double
had stories about them, which made me tell Dutch is a game that is easily accessible and
her my secret crushes. Or was it the other fun. All we needed was a telephone cord to
way around? As we got older, my mother play. Or we could have spent the ten dollars
would relay stories from Japan about Keni for two ropes and played. Maybe if Keni felt
getting into trouble. the rush from the rhythm of jumping rope
Even today, as a thirty-one year old woman, Brooklyn from whatever part of the world she she would have called me up to play Double
I find two ropes turning to God’s beat every was living in at the time. I knew how to jump, but Her parents seemed strict, but I remember Dutch later in life. Maybe if she learned to
once in a while and I am apt to jump in. I don’t think I ever tried to teach Keni. And if I our conversations at a very young age when jump rope she would have exercised more,
Double Dutch is a way for girls to bond on the did, I don’t think she got the hang of it because she said, “They’re so dense,” which made me and a thing like a heart attack would not
block or at the playground. We jump for the when she was around, we didn’t do much but talk. feel a little intimidated by her. We couldn’t have happened at the tender age of thirty.
course of the game and when the rope gets We’re the only two people in my family who are have been any more than eight years old.
curled up and goes back in the bag, we go the same age, so it was hard for me to play the My parents had taught me all I knew at that Keni's death happened so unexpectedly,
our separate ways. But when we come back to- role of mentor. Maybe she would have accepted point. I couldn’t imagine being so smart as but it certainly didn’t happen by accident. I
gether, the fun that we had sends a sensation my lead. Maybe she did already. I wish I had taken to call my parents “dense.” Keri was also a question some schools for not allowing kids
through us when we embrace. Here in the that four months difference between us to heart. strong girl. Her father would show off her to have recess. What will children grow up
South, it’s rare to find women jumping Dou- strength by having her pick him up. She was to be like if they don’t learn to play at an
ble Dutch; sharing together a few moments to I should have taught Keni how to jump. like Bam Bam from the Flintstones. I guess I early age? Will they continue to engage in
release from their innards the stresses of the always was a little intimidated by her. recreational activities or will they become
world. When I find them, we all have a good I’m not sure why Double Dutch hasn’t caught on sedentary, allowing all that they consume to
time — we bask in the collective amazement in other parts of the country by now. Keni spent The same people she called dense are rais- be the death of them?
of still being able to move to that beat. many of her formative years in the South, but I ing her children today. Keni died in July of
don’t have any recollection of her jumping at all. 2009. My sister woke me up from my sleep On the day of Keni’s funeral, there was a lot
Years since Double Dutch was a daily routine, They do play sports in the South. Softball and to tell me that Keni, who was in the hospital, family around consoling her parents and
I remember the days as a young girl when my baseball, those were the pictures that my mother had fallen on the floor and died. I couldn’t siblings who were devastated by her death.
house was the central location for all of my showed me of her. Bat in hand, dressed in full uni- believe it. It didn’t make any sense for her to In good spirits, the game of Double Dutch
cousins and friends to gather. For the most form, looking like she was ready to swing. Perhaps just die like that. Maybe if I had taught her was mentioned and, just like old folks who
part, my girls and I were located in the New the competitive nature of softball made her look how to play Double Dutch, she would have wanted to prove that they still had it, we
York City area, all except for cousin Keni, who so happy in the annual pictures they sent to us. jumped into another life, one away from the took to the streets to jump rope. The sandals
traveled the globe with her military family to boys and trouble. And maybe she wouldn’t came off and skirts were tucked between
lands across the sea. I don’t think those girls As a high school student in Georgia, I wasn’t have had a heart attack. She didn’t fall to the legs and we went at it. The delight in her
jumped DoubleDutch in Japan, where Keni’s jumping at all. I had trouble with my weight. The floor and die. She had a heart attack. daughter’s eyes, when her aunt carried her
father was stationed during the teen years of food to exercise ratio wasn’t really working out into the rope to jump the day of the funeral
her life. If they did, I’m sure Keni would for me. Keni, who was in Japan, had also gained Keni stayed sedentary for two years after the was inspiring. She wanted to jump with ev-
have come back strapped with the know-how. a lot of weight around the same time. She still birth of her second child. As I stepped out- eryone once she got a taste of the rhythm. I
When we got together, there was Double looked good, but I could tell that she was inactive side from time to time to have a cigarette, wish Keni could have seen it. Maybe if I had
Dutch for hours. Every now and then my and without my hours of play, I had become she’d be outside of her house smoking, too. offered Keni a taste of the rhythm she would
cousin Keni would visit my family’s home in inactive, too. As a teen, softball seemed a little We’d wave to one another and, at times, have been here to see it. »


ECHOES
Written and Illustrated by Hilary Smith
of
the
Past The three of us inspect the front of the
house. It is between two equally empty
looking houses, but this particular one
seems to be the oldest of the three. The
walls are eggshell white, with blue shut-
ters and brown shingles covering the roof.
The porch is wooden and falling apart; a
“Actually, I would like a picture of that
door,” Casey heads back in the direction
from which he came.

“The idea is not to be seen,” I remind him,
rolling my eyes and continuing to the back
of the house.
then back at her again, able to focus on
something else. She’s wearing a flowered
frock, too big for her wire frame. I can see
her veins, blue through her skin, and her
silver hair, pinned into a lose bun at the
top of her head, revealing again her
bug-like eyes.
fire hydrant is chained to one of the pillars
holding up the awning. The mailbox is As I round the corner to the back of the She is creepy, but seems lonely. I feel

I
missing and there are big red Xs spray- house, I notice an old woman holding obligated to follow her into the house. We
like vintage things, antique painted across most of the trees in the a watering can to the plants by the back enter the mudroom through the back door,
things. Beautiful, obsolete, front yard. Laurie approaches the front door. I’ve never been exploring and come the screen door slams shut behind me. She
old things. My insides tingle door, which appears to be hanging on across an inhabitant before. Suddenly, this doesn’t remove her shoes, so I leave mine
when I touch peeling paint on fragile with only one hinge. isn’t my excursion anymore … I don’t like on as well. I follow her through the house.
walls and trace the spider web cracks to intrude. I’m a paleontologist, not Chris
in worn glass. I have a collection of A car slows to a stop in front of the house. Columbus. I’m about to take off when she The inside of the house looks nothing like
Laurie ducks behind the banisters of the spots me. the outside. Of course, everything is dated,
rusty nails, just because I find their
porch, further covered by shrubbery. Casey but it all looks new and functional. We stop
colors beautiful. And every time and I plaster ourselves against the side I look behind me for Casey, knowing he’d when she reaches the kitchen — I can see
someone gives me flowers, I hang of the house hoping that we are skinny pull his classic “I’m an art student doing through it into the dining room. There’s a
them upside down and let them dry, enough to be hidden by the trees in the homework” excuse and we’d be out of there beautiful cloth covering the table, which is
so I can put them back in the vase front yard. safely in seconds, but he and his camera set with actual silver silverware and china.
and they’ll last forever. It’s almost are nowhere in sight. I am on my own, so I
like I can preserve time by living in a The car continues on. It was only following make up my own lie. My focus returns to the kitchen, where
past that has already passed — it’s my the rules of the road, stopping for the stop the woman is searching her drawers for
sign we hadn’t seen. “Maybe we shouldn’t “Sorry, ma’am. I got lost.” She raises her something. “Do you live with your family?”
own reality away from reality.
hang around the front,” I suggest. eyebrow. “…chasing after my dog,” I end I inquire.
lamely. “I thought he went this way, I guess
Most people my age think I’m weird, but
A hint of a walkway leads around to the not. I’ll be going now.” I wave to her hesi- “Oh no, it’s just me.” She pulls two towels
Casey and Laurie share my taste. Casey is a
back of the house. Remnants of a stepping tantly with my empty hand, quickly remem- out from a drawer. “Do you like cookies?
photographer. His portfolio is full of things
stone path are visible under the long blades bering that in my right is the now “stolen”
I love, mostly castles and churches from his
of grass and tall weeds. I lead the way, care- souvenir. My normal response would have been “Who
trips to Europe. Laurie is a writer. She gets in-
ful to step over the kudzu creeping in from doesn’t?” but she is elderly and proper
spiration for her ghost stories by taking walks
the neighboring yard. Casey stumbles along The old woman beckons me forward. “Do and, not to mention, an utter stranger. I’m
through old buildings and spending hours in
behind me, now holding his camera by the stay. It’s not often that I have visitors.” already in her house, I shouldn’t be eating
antique stores.
strap so if he were to fall on his face, he her poison apples, too.
wouldn’t crush it into his chest. I check my peripheral vision for Laurie and
I like exploring and collecting, sometimes
Casey, but I can’t see them. “Yes, ma’am, but I just ate.”
journaling in my own shorthand as I go. I
“Case, you might want to get a picture of
have yet to find a career that uses my unique
the front door. It has a keyhole for a skel- She smiles at me. I’m locked into her gaze. “You can just take a seat there.” She points
hobbies. Maybe National Geographic will
eton key!” Laurie mentions excitedly as she Her brown eyes are so dark that it makes to the dining room table. “I’ll get you some
find me worthy …
skips after us. her pupils look dilated. I look away and right from the oven.”
It’s nearing the end of summer and I’m
Something catches in the tread of my boots,
yearning to go on another excursion before
so I lean against the side of the house to
Casey leaves for France and Laurie goes out
balance myself and get the object out. The
of state to school. I think I’m suffering from
culprit is a silver clip-on earring with a lace-
“I notice an old woman holding a watering can to
exploration withdrawal. I call my friends
and we set the date. Laurie is psyched. “This
like pattern and some sort of green rock in the plants by the back door. Suddenly, this isn’t my
the center. I can make something out of it if
is just the inspiration I need,” she tells me.
I clean it up and pull off the clip-on piece. excursion any more … I don’t like to intrude. I’m a
“I’ll finally have a cure for this stupid writer’s
block. You’re an angel.”
It’s big enough to be a necklace pendant.
paleontologist, not Chris Columbus.”

“It’s okay, really.” I look around for an mom makes them. And they smell so good. out the kitchen window into the back yard, I look behind me to see the old woman
excuse to change the topic or even leave. “Ma’am, I just ate.” looking for my two friends. getting closer. I search for another exit. I
I notice an old rocking chair in the living can outrun her if I have somewhere to go
room, much like one my great-grandmoth- She places the china plate down in front “At least have a cookie before you go.” — the broken front door!

Managing
er used to have. It sits beside a beautiful of me and puts two of the cookies on it
end table and decorative lamp. Maybe I before walking off again. “I’ll join you and I stood from the couch. “It’s really nice of I dash past her, searching each doorway as

college
should become an interior designer. we can talk.” you to offer, but I’m full and I need to go.” I pass it for my magical one-hinged door.
There’s another flash of light and I’m
I stray into the living room and sit on the She disappears again and quickly reap- “But I made them just for you.” blinded.
couch because I feel awkward standing.
I’m careful not to brush my dirty jeans
pears with two tiny teacups filled with milk.
She places one on the table before sitting She couldn’t have been expecting me. Her “Casey! Laurie! Where are you?”
expenses
against her pristine coffee table. I trace my
finger around the lace doily, which prob-
down across from me in the rocking chair.
I sit uncomfortably with my hands in my
creep factor has just skyrocketed and I
need to find an exit. My vision is recovering, but I’m still seeing doesn’t have
ably served as a coaster. The table vibrates
slightly under my touch. Startled, I remove
lap, waiting for her to make the first move.
The evening sun reflects strongly in her “Can I have my earring back before you
spots. I have no idea how I managed to
look directly at the sun when all the win- to be difficult
my hand. It’s silent for a moment and cup, causing me to see spots. leave?” she asks, innocently. dows are boarded up. Were they boarded
then, I can hear the quick vibration again. up before? I backtrack a couple of steps
Let us help you find ways to
I check my pocket for my phone and then
“So, you were looking around?” she asks, as
if picking up a conversation from earlier.
The clip-on had been in my pocket this
whole time, how had she known? I look up
and realize I had seen a glimpse of a room
through the hall mirror. lighten your financial load ROSWELL
1165 WOODSTOCK RD.
remember I left it in Casey’s car. at her, past her eerie eyes and notice she
When it comes to managing (NEAR SUPER TARGET)
“Oh, I love your house. I love antiques. is wearing only one earring — a polished, “They can’t hear you.” 770-993-0240
I put my ear to the table. I can hear the vi- The fact that you’re still using all of this silver earring with a shining emerald in the your college finances,
bration, like an invisible cell phone is buzz- instead of displaying it is amazing to me.” I center. I pull the earring out of my pocket “Why not?” I demand. Wachovia has all kinds of
ing its way across the mahogany. Then, gesture to her kitchen, pointing out appli- to see that it matches, perfectly. The rust tools to help you make smart For all your art supply needs,
I hear muffled voices, like I am trying to
listen to a conversation from under water.
ances that might not even exist in our era. is gone and the green rock is identifiable.
I drop it and the earring clatters on the
“Because you’re not there.” The woman
smiles mischievously and directs her gaze
decisions. Whether you’re
planning for books and tuition
pick Blick.
Her frail hand reaches and places her tea- china as I run for the door. to the mirror I had passed. At this angle,
or budgeting for a semester’s
I sit up straight, as if I could hide the fact cup next to mine. “I meant my yard. You I can only see what is down the hall. The
that I was behaving bizarrely. were looking around.” I can hear the floorboards creek as she dining room table is covered with a sheet,
worth of pizza, learning how
slowly follows me. I reach the back door but I can see where the china sat beneath to manage your money and
She is back with a cookie tray covered in “Oh yes, for my dog. I should be going. where only moments ago I saw my friends it. I walk past it and peer into the room, use it wisely is simple. And it
perfectly aligned, perfectly round oat- Buster could get miles away if I just sit outside. I grasp the handle and turn it. everything is back to normal. Back in the starts with Wachovia Student
meal cookies. They don’t have raisins ... around.” I fix my posture so that I can see mirror, it’s all coated with dust; the large Checking. Check it out online at
I always have to pick them out when my over her head, through the doorway and Nothing happens. But it’s unlocked. window facing out from the kitchen is wachovia.com/studentchecking.
boarded up.

She unhooks the mirror from its place on
the wall, leaving me to hold it. I turn the
mirror to face the living room, and sure
enough the couch, rocking chair, coffee
228 Ottley Drive table and end tables with twin lamps are
$5 CASH $10 CASH $20 CASH Atlanta, GA 30324

20% off
cloaked in white sheets. Right in front of
toward the purchase of toward the purchase toward the purchase of (800) 426-2246 where I was sitting is Laurie’s unattended
any item of your choice. of any Fairgate ruler. any sewing machine or (404) 261-4240 cell phone. ENTIRE PURCHASE OF NON-SALE, IN-STOCK ITEMS
EXPIRES 12/31/10 EXPIRES 12/31/10 serger. EXPIRES 12/31/10
sales@sewingmachine.com VALID 10/10/10 TO 10/24/10
I see another flash. I direct the mirror at Blick Art Materials, Retail Inc., coupon must be surrendered at time of purchase; no
copies will be honored. Limit one coupon per visit. Valid only on non-sale, in-stock
Wachovia Bank and Wachovia Bank of
it. Casey is standing at the source, with Delaware, divisions of Wells Fargo Bank,
items. Not valid with any other discounts or promotion, phone/mail/internet orders
Please visit our Atlanta showroom and purchases of gift cards.
Laurie beside him. The floor is coated N.A., Member FDIC.

*ao03859*
for all of your sewing, embroidery,
with dust, only two sets of footprints © 2010 Wells Fargo Bank, N.A.
sublimation and direct to garment All rights reserved. ECG-315401
disturb the scene. I am nothing more than
printing equipment and supplies.
another one of Laurie’s ghost stories. »


DR AW G
INNES
E TH E LI
Photography GORAN JOVANOVIC

INS ID
Illustration ARTHUR BALL

Model JOHN CREWS

Styling LAWREN MCCORD


Creative Writing
» PO E T R Y

I Walk Back
by Yair Hoenig

A voice pulled my heart down to Earth,
He said: “It’s time for you to leave, because I don’t have
Any remnants from what I was or what I should have been.”
Both my hands held each side of my heart and tore it in two,
Two moments in time, Past and Future.
What has led me to an unknown mystification
has become an earth with no earth,
As if everything that was there mortified life
At the other side of my heart stood resolute the future.
“History repeats itself “he said,
But the four billion population
Concealed themselves in a poisoned lockdown of fear
from knowledge and Acknowledgment.
Sons of gods they say…
Forgone Conclusion The Death of an Inner Child
The grip of self concern as if it was exhumed from a holy particle. by Kelvin Parker by Toria Munoz
The future shrugged its shoulders and looked back. Instantly the results crashed head on with my facial expressions And sharp, spiked needles rose on my arms The windows brush, the wind breezing through the window.
What is this swirl of man doing? For the moment my confidence was paralyzed, Like chill bumps rising from thorns Memories of time’s past with smells of clean clothes and mud on small shoes.
They slave themselves for hideous sickness. And the disbelief shattered my face with open lacerations Every bone in my body began to crack Reflecting in a small mind, time we’re losing, what do we do with these blues?
Eminent declaration on one who holds more death. Dried blood squirted out the wounds of my reflections And my skin started peeling Small hands and marriages on playgrounds, where did they go?
Nausea hit the future, On my time and effort wasted Like ashes burning away from a cigarette We have the future in our hands, hands that grasped security blankets and toys
as if urine had gone up all the way into his throat. The confusion dried the moisture from my contact lenses, Suddenly my insides began tearing apart with painted faces glancing low.
“No one is happy at his share”, he hissed And they formed into rings of glass that slashed at my eyelids For the moment defeat tortured my heart Hearing monsters and madness; but perhaps we propose that.
The foundation of love on a barren kiss. The more I blinked, the deeper the cuts winked I rubbed my chest, We looked good in the shoes of an outcast.
Pendent on his fate, as wind to its direction, The shock caused my tongue to snatch at my tonsils But it was too late And punches and names; youth can be cruel.
Decided the future to turn himself up-side-down. And in between the duel intruded my saliva The pain clogged my veins Flashbacking, mind-trekking, my inner child was cool.
He let man go back as they are advancing in time, That tied up the end of my throat Causing them to burst Then, one day, it got pushed away, and it died.
While they slide down the valley of Earth and what is human. I tried to grasp for air, My determination was left lying in the dust It doesn’t fully come back, no, parts of it die with getting older.
A voice pulled my heart down to Earth But was overwhelmed with this suffocation, Like metal intentionally not oiled to rust Naiveness, wonderment, and curiosity, bolder.
And said: “It’s time for you to go now, And all I could do was stare Then my dream was carried away in a black hearse I killed my inner child, and it cried. »
Back on your feet, walk towards your past Immediately my soul felt the impact
And keep on going until you won’t speak but feel”. For the moment my spirit was ruined
And set the future back onto its past. A knife dug a deep cut across my right cheek


Medium
Matt Jones had a different view on the
subject. He stated, “I also feel like it’s the
demise of photography.” He related this
demise to the changes in the economy
and the possible effect on his career,

VS. Message citing the initiatives that businesses
have taken to cut costs and conduct
their own photography, without the use
of a professional photographer. While
considering his career and the options
open to him, Jones asserted, “Every
Written by ALEXANDRA SOWERS single person in this department is going
Illustration by ARTHUR BALL to come out with a BFA in photography,
but the percentage of students who
actually make a solid living and become
The use of illustration and a name in photography is very, very
photography is continually in slim and very, very rare.” Though
debate when trying to convey a photography as a medium may be the
message. Art directors, authors most widely used, the photographers
and designers try to best convey themselves may have to consider the
a feeling or message through work available.
imagery. Yet, the age-old “When you want to state some moment Art directors and editors can dictate the
question arises: should I use an in fact, I think photography is a better utilization or demise of illustrations or Among the discussion of SCAD Atlanta’s
illustration or a photograph? status owes most to its near-total eclipse illustration in a graphic design layout, use because, usually, the camera doesn’t photographs. Lovell asserted, “I think illustration and photography programs
by graphic design.” He opined that “[the illustration] is still going to have lie.” Photoshop may be implemented because of the compressed workflow was the collaborative efforts of the
The advent of Adobe's Creative Suite illustration is more of an art form with that overall feel of what that illustrator to perfect the image, but a photograph that editors and art directors have students and professors. Lovell described
gives even the most novice designer the personal connotations, frequently wanted to portray.” The image’s style ultimately portrays reality. now, they have to get work done really the collaboration between art forms
ability to manipulate any photograph about vivid displays of authorship, while and/or feel cannot be changed, even fast and that sort of precludes a lot of as “a cross-pollination.” He referred
to achieve any possible look. Some see graphic design is about the anonymous after manipulation. Despite illustration’s Some designers use illustration and illustrative styles that take more time.” to photography professor Suellen
this as the “demise” of illustration, as conveying of messages. SCAD Atlanta’s stylistic abilities, Robertson maintained photography together to best convey He observed that the availability of Parker, “who has sort of an illustrative
discussed in author Steven Heller’s Illustration Program Coordinator that one art form does not take a message. Aileen Tan-Rodriguez, a stock imagery has come to push aside mind [and] is teaching her students
article, “The Fall and Rise of Illustration: Richard Lovell stated, “[Illustration] precedence over the other. "It’s just fourth year graphic design student, illustration in many respects. While he to illustrate through the lens of the
An Interview with Charles Hively.” is based on a stylistic nuance … [An personal preference of whether you commented: “I could use both [art has a pessimistic view of illustration’s camera,” which he called “amazing.”
Former creative director Charles illustrator’s] work has a certain look want photography or whether you want forms] to give [my designs] a little presence in the design world, Lovell The illustration department also has
Hively stated in the article, “I agree that is appropriate to help enhance a illustration for the look and feel you’re oomph, whether I drew something and believes there will be a resurgence of collage classes that teach students to take
that photography is the most widely story.” He related the differences in each going for in your design.” The artwork then used a photograph to make that this art form. He feels that people photographic imagery and recompose
used visual medium and has been for art form to storytelling, observing that chosen must relate to the piece, whether humanistic drawing become life-like are getting tired of seeing digitally- them into illustrative forms. Tan-
some time at the expense of the hand- while both illustration and photography written or designed. in a realistic setting.” The illustration, manipulated photography, that people Rodriguez commented: “I actually like
rendered art of illustration.” Hively can be used to solve a visual problem, thus, embellishes the photograph and “want to see more traditional-looking how [professors] make us combine the
blamed art schools for the overuse of illustration is “visual storytelling, [while] While photography is the most used vice versa. Robin Holstein, a graduate illustration, more painterly approaches two [art forms] … I like how they push
stock photos in design and the isolation photography is primarily capturing an visual in the commercial world, this art student in sequential art, pointed out to things.” Fourth year photography us to be able to do well in both and then,
of illustration classes and programs. He instance — a real moment.” form approaches the visual problem in the use of photography in comics and student Allison Jarek commented that in our own way, combine to two to make
added that today’s art director “fails to a different way. Matt Jones, a fourth year graphic novels. He stated that in Europe, “there needs to be more of a balance [the project] even better.” SCAD’s efforts
see the value of how a conceptual artist Illustration can not only stand on its photography student, asserted, “I feel “they do actually have sequential [between the two mediums]. I certainly at collaboration and “cross-pollination”
helps to bring a concept to fruition.” own as a work of art, but can be used like illustration and photography are two comics, but with photographs.” This wouldn’t want photography to eliminate as well as the talents and abilities of
in a magazine, novel or design layout completely different things … I feel like kind of graphic novel demonstrates the use of illustration.” While some its students may level the playing field
Graphic designer Adrian Shaughnessy, to enhance the written word. Matt you’re able to accomplish the same thing the possibilities for the combination strive for a balance, there will always between illustration and photography
wrote for “The Design Observer Group” Robertson, a fourth year graphic design with both of them, it just depends on and collaboration of illustration and be some sort of conflict between the — and the demise of either may be
that “perhaps illustration’s current student, observed that when using an the approach you take.” Lovell observed, photography. two art forms. forgotten. »


Showcase
» SEQUENTIAL ART

Falynn Koch
Artist Statement
For a long time, I wasn’t using color in my work at all — maybe a splash
here, a splash there. After I rediscovered a travel watercolor kit my
grandmother gave to me, that all changed. I made myself do a postcard-
sized painting every day for a month, and I still try to as often as I can. A
lot of people color comics using the computer, and I have done that, but
since entering the SCAD Atlanta graduate program, I have been drawn
toward doing things traditionally. Using a brush and nib has taught me
to embrace the happy accidents that can come with paint and ink. I feel
that experimenting and creating without the safety of the undo button is
important; this method is frustrating and liberating at the same time.

My comics and illustrations are usually about serious situations, with a
humorous twist thrown in. This is really just a reflection of my personal-
ity. I’m a positive and lighthearted person who can find the amusing in
the somber — like in my griffin illustrations: Typically you see the eagle
and lion combination, but what about a pigeon and a house cat? This
combination is still a griffin by definition, but is not as majestic. There
are no rules in comics or art, in general. I’m for taking everything off
pedestals and looking from a different perspective. »

22 FALL 2 0 10 » SCAN MAGAZINE 23

Showcase
» A R T A D M I N I S T R AT I O N

Kat Reynolds
Artist Statement
An arts administrator is to creative organiza- Just as tattoo artists prepares their stations
tions as mortar is to bricks. Artistic events before turning on the needle, my co-writer/
such as theatre produtions, gallery openings, producer and I prepped the script before
museum exhibits, symphony concerts, fashion putting pen to paper. We spent a year inter-
shows and art classes are not a feat for one viewing anyone with body art, and created
artist alone. In fact, a small army of designers, characters based on those stories as well as
historians, performers and managers are our personal experiences with tattoos.
required to ensure success for these events.
Arts administrators are just as integral a Over the course of a year, TATS was written.
component of creative organizations as the We prepared ourselves to promote the show
art itself. through website launches, photo and video
shoots, as well as viral marketing campaigns.
As theatre director and producer, I have With audience interest peaked, the TATS

Photography by RACHEL BODENSTEIN
had many opportunities to assist in building team hired an excellent group of designers,
theatre productions from the ground up. musicians, dancers and actors. A grueling
From scribbling notes, to rewrites, table rehearsal schedule set in and challenged me
readings, auditions, rehearsals and curtain to not only put on a director’s hat, but also —
calls, my best experiences have been leading for the first time — a producer’s shield.
and administering live productions.
Daily conversations urged me to make fast
In 2006, one conversation about tattoos cata- decisions regarding budgets, staffing, actors’
pulted a three year collaboration with Atlanta safety and ticket sales. These choices, along
based theatre playwright and director Col- with hours of consultation with team mem-
leen Hammond Whitmore. In October 2009, bers, emphasized for me the necessity for
Atlanta’s 14th Street Playhouse premiered a administrators in the arts. Every participant
successful run of TATS:theexperience© filled in a performing arts event has a job, and
with dancing, acting, puppetry and original each person’s goal must lead to the same
music. One of our audience members even end. Administrators keep the team on a fast,
stopped me in the lobby and whispered, and often risky, track to opening night.
“I needed a tissue, and then a cigarette.” Behind the scenes, this play script and
Theatre productions are a roller coaster ride ultimate performance is a result of over
— from the administrative offices to front row three years of planning and achieving a
center. With TATS, I was thrilled to get on mountain of artistic goals. »
board the ride time and time again.

24 SCAN MAGAZINE » FA L L 2 0 10

SCAN: Fall 2010

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