cross threads arts journal

8/4/2019 Cross Threads Arts Journal

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CROSSTHREADSArtsJournal

acreativeartsjournalpr

esentedbythe

WestsideArtsCouncilhigh

lightingthe

WestsideofSyracuse,New

York


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CROSSTHREADS Arts Journal

a creative arts journal that promotes and highlights all

the artists who live, work, or have some relation to the

Westside o Syracuse, NY.


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Copyright (c) 2011

No part o this document may be reproduced or transmitted

in any orm, by any means electronic or mechanical, including

photocopying and recording, or by any inormation storage or

retrieval system, without consent rom the authors.

All Rights Reserved

ISBN:

Design: Stephanie Hart


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Pg. 3 Introduction

Pg. 4 Acknowledgements

Pg. 5 Special Thank You

Pg. 7 Nygeleke Jones Oh Dancing Sky

Pg. 8-9 Emily Watanabe Untitled

Pg. 10-11 Samantha Harmon Two Addresses Unknown

Pg. 12 Nygeleke Jones My Mom

Pg. 13 Jadin Cooper UntitledPg. 14 Jessica Sharpe Orange Church

Pg. 15 Teyah Williams Circus Willy Wonka

Pg. 16 Marcus Jacobs Sentry Duty at Fort Stanwix

Pg. 17 Kristen Tietjens St Lucys

Maarten Jacobs St. Lucys Church

Pg. 18 Yanira Johnson Wyoming Street

Pg. 19 Roxanna Carpenter UntiledPg. 20 Nate Pritts New Color o the Background

Pg. 21 Casey Landerkin Untitled

Pg. 22 Sarah Hudkins, Blodgett School

Pg. 23 Thay Mo, Untiled

Pg. 24 Katie Brown, A Real Good Man

Pg. 26 Luis Santiago Untitled

Pg. 27 Ashley Homer A Man getting Ready or Work

Pg. 28 Nijah Haskins My StreetPg. 29 Megan Montana Welcome Inn

Pg. 30 Mother Earth Near Westside

Pg. 31 Temerity Matthews Untilted

Pg. 32 Isaac Rothwell 10:30 on Tioga

Pg. 33 Alexandra Crosby Welcome Inn

Table o Contents


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Pg. 34 Rachel Lyons Fist Palm Peace

Pg. 39 Tia Williams Peace

Pg. 40 Samantha Harmon Blodgett Middle School

Stacy Grin Fused Glass and Bark

Pg. 41 Samantha Harmon Untitled

Pg. 42 Terry Ritchie The West Side Tulips

Pg. 43 Roxana Carpenter St. Lucys Garden

Pg. 44 Samantha Harmon The Welcome InnPg. 45 Calvin West Girl with the Yellow Jump Rope

Pg. 46 Kristin Dugger Ogress

Pg. 48 Louaisa Holmes All About Me

Pg. 49 Roxana Carpenter Untitled

Pg. 50 Josh Stowe Untitled

Pg. 51 Carole Horan New Man in the Hood

Stacy Gin Untitled Fused Glass

Pg. 52 Patrick Suarez The City

Pg. 53 Pattie Fiegl Take Flight

Pg. 54 Jay Furgal Tattered Tickets

Pg. 55 Savier Williams Untitled

Pg. 56 Jacqueline Padilla Untitled

Pg. 57 Jay Furgal Voices

Table o Contents


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CROSSTHREADS is a creative arts journal that promotes

and highlights all the artists who live, work, or have somerelation to the Westside o Syracuse. The journal seeks to

publish submissions o students, the everyday artist, and

proessional artists o all ages. The goal o the journal is

to highlight unity, raise community awareness o the arts,

showcase the historic and emergent arts community, and

reect cultural experiences within the neighborhood.

For the members o the Westside Arts Council the neigh-

borhood o the Near Westside is place unlike any other.

The neighborhood we know is a piece o beautiul art

unto its own or the people who are ortunate enough to

experience and create it every day.

Mission Statement

To act as a cultural advocacy group or the

Near Westside community by bringing together

neighborhood residents, agencies, cultural institutions,

and artists with the intention o exploring our

opportunities in the Near Westside neighborhoodsas well as in the broader Syracuse community. This

group will organize art projects and events that will

engage the entire community driven by residents input

concerning what art they would like to see in their

neighborhood.

CROSSTHREADS Arts Journal


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This collection o art would not have been possible without the

support o many individuals and organizations.

Jessie Keating Imagine Syracuse

Becky Jackson Seymour Elementary School

Stacy Grin - Blodgett Elementary School (Transerred to

Meachum Elementary School)

Kristen Dugger Blodgett Elementary School (Transerred toFowler High School)

Betsey Sipple - Art Instructor Imagine Syracuse

Kelly Moser Art - Teacher Seymour Dual Language Academy

Sarah McCoubrey Syracuse University VPA

Stephen Parks Syracuse University/New City Community Press

Sheena Solomon Giord Foundation

The Westside Arts Council selection and editorial committee:

Mother Earth

Peter Thompson

Isaac RothwellKatie Lemons-Brown

Maarten Jacobs

Mary Stanley

Acknowledgements


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The Giord Foundation

The Near Westside InitiativeNew City Community Press

Special Thank You to:


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OH, DANCING SKYby Nygeleke Jones, age 9

Imagine Syracuse

Oh, dancing sky

I wonder how bright

you really are.

From rain to rainbows

to sun to og

rom lightning to thunderIts so very hard to see the sun.

I would grab a star

and clear it all away,

so that it will all be okay.

Oh, dancing sky

I wonder how bright

your really are.


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Emily WantanabeUntitled, Pen and Watercolor on Paper


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Samantha HarmonTwo Addresses UnknownPencil, Pen,Watercolor, Acrylic


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MY MOMBy Nygeleke Jones, age 10Imagine Syracuse

My mom is magnifcent

Shes like the midnight breeze.

But shes cool as can be.She is like a purple ower

Growing, blossoming, getting brighter

Brighter, brighter!

My mom is nothing imaginable.

My mom is like the sun

Shining over me.

My mom is magnifcent

Shes like a midnight breeze.


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Jadin Cooper, Pre K, Blodgett School


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Jessica Sharpe

Orange Church

Oil on Paper


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Tayah Williams - Grade 6

Imagine Syracuse

Circus Willy Wonka

Wire and Fabric


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Marcus Jacobs

Sentry Duty at Fort Stanwix, May 2009Marker and Colored Pencil

Seymour Dual Language Academy


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Maarten Jacobs

St. Lucys Church

Photograph

Kristen TietjensSt Lucys

Pencil on Paper


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WYOMING STREETBy Yanira Johnson, age 11

Imagine Syracuse

O, shining bright utures

Over Wyoming Street.

The kids bright utures

Cant be beat.

The kids chanting loud over winning kickball

Quiet Down! the neighbors shout. Or thesecurity Ill call!

We are athletes

Over Wyoming Street.

Our winning love

Cant be beat.

We share everything we haveOh, we share all

From the snowy, breezy winters

To the warm yet leay all.

We are all loving on Wyoming Street

Our big puddles o love


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Roxanna CarpenterUntitled

Drawing on Paper


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New Color o the Backgroundby Nate Pritts

Outside the window, a series o buildings

planted in snow. Snow blind in morning,

Im relying on memory. Faltering

in restlessness, Im eeling my way.

In the oreground, ake owers, a sad blue renzy.

Every day I can count on seeing some birds

& every day what the hell are they still doing here.All these trees without leaves. Icy shatterings.

Its February in Syracuse. Its Syracuse,

New York in my heart & I dont know

how I got back here. Except that I do.

Except I was gagged & blunted or years.

The map that I ollowed ran jagged & red.

You hold something close or long enough

& even big sharp things blur. Gigantic,

but who can say what it was. Things in distance

look aded & smudged. They named thisperspective. They say that this blue looks bluer

depending. These shocks more shocking

because o old tremors & shakes.

Orange sunlight even in winter. You can idle

in a car & watch snow turn purple.


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Your limbs heat up. Your body become bodied,

your breath & her breath. Now things are clear.

Remember all those parts you orgot.

The right shade pulled low keeps out the night.

Your eyes a lovely brown to swallow me

whole & so much more whole with your hand

in my hand. Your eyes much more brownwhen theyre brown in this old town. Change

the color o the lights & it all starts again.

Hold this shrapnel up to the sky & its beautiul.

Casey LanderkinUntitled Ink andWatercolor on Paper


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SarahHudkins,B

lodgettSchool,InkonPap

er


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ThayMo,PreK

,BlodgettSchool


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A Real Good ManKatie Brown

A blank

blinking page.

calling inspiration rom theundercurrent o my imagination.

Yet

a subtle hesitation

I think maybe

Id rather jump o this page and into your arms

caught in each others Springtime charmsdisregarding the demand o real lie,

with a real good man.

They dont come along oten you know.

(no you might not know)

It seems all the grown up ones

have grown into their suits and toys

And all the boysstill hang rom trees

o irresponsibility

and just grow into

impressive

chimpanzees.

I think maybe

theres more to Kansas and blue skies

there might just be rainbows in your eyes

You may surpass the adventures o an empty page

(where I have ound my empty stage

and played upon it like a dove reed rom the wire cage


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rom the raters to the worn oor boards

my wings tire without a perching treeand long or more

perhaps with youI could be somewhat

ree as we

balance on the earths edge

looking out on a lemon drop sea)

We could be more than a page could contain.

Star-gazing city lights, making wishes on lit window panes,

delighted when morning creeps under the sheetsand tickles our toes.

(Could you catch this heart in the throws?)

I think maybe theres Godzilla shoes to fll.

But where theres a Will

(a mighty soul

and a holy plight)

I think I just might

jump the black and white words

this real lie demands

into the solid arms

o

a

real

good

man


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Luis Santiago

Untitled


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Ashley Homer, Grade 5

A Man getting Ready or Work

Marker and Oil Pastel

Seymour Dual Language Acadamy

A man is brushing his teeth. Hes about to wash his

hands. This is what he does every morning when he

wakes up.

El hombre est cepillando sus dientes. El va a lavar

sus manos. Este es lo que el hace cada maana

cuando se despuerta.


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MY STREETBy Nijah Haskins, age 9

Imagine Syracuse

All the actions on my street

Its so noisy

but at the same time

its quiet in the air o soaring people

on my street.

I always thought it was sae

but I never know i its dangerous.I may never fnd out

but I know the trees, snow,

and sometimes deer

are there or a purpose.

The purpose

because its my street.


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Megan Montana

Welcome Inn

Acrylic on Paper


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Mother Earth

Near Westside

Pencil and Ink on Paper


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Temerity Matthews Untitled Graphite on Paper


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10:30 on TiogaIsaac Rothwell

Thick paint layered with strokes o promiseThru scattered dreams my ocus honest

Crisp nocturne breeze a melody or the

senses,

As we revel in the lampposts golden glow o

paste concrete

And take my blessings census

With hope or days when all have changed

their tenses,

From mine to ours

Remove labels rom people like we keep on

jars

The clouds are gone, the clouds are gone

But will return,

Empty parks like empty hearts,

No lie to give

Skiddy... Skiddy, tonight you live


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Alexandra Crosby

Welcome Inn

Oil on Paper


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Fist Palm Peace by Rachel Lyons

Sowe should play a game.

Wait, are we throwing on 3 or on shoot? 123shoot or throw

on 3?

Ok, rock, paper, scissors, shoot. Got it.

Rock crushes scissors, scissors cut paper, paper covers rock. Rock.

Paper. Scissors. Shoot.

Rock.

A fst.

Your fst.

A powerul base.A clenched motion to bench anger until it steps up to the plate

or debate and conversation racing towards sensations o tightened

muscles, popped knuckles and that oundation o hate treading

along until it crashes into a cheekbone.

A known wall o deense against those orces pushing you down

and pressing your chest until the nonsense becomes unrest and

what was bottled up fnally erupts to say

Take a breath and get some air and push it back with a resoundingYES, I will be heard

not herded into the masses o anonymous words and aces phased

out by those eyes that chose

to throw stony glances, to take away chances, and to hold in their

fsts the lielines that divide time between fngers o reedom and

twisting wrists

cuslinked together or dinner parties o elaborate vocabularies and

cus

linked together or sentences and terms o undetermined length to

rehabilitate mistakes.

Do your fsticus belie your blu that you stand perched on to over-

look the nooks and crannies o inequalities that historically are


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entrenched in neighborhoods

and inequalities that are drenching the sidewalks o the downtrod-

den with the sweat o brows and bodies and poor souls wondering

what is good or?

What is it good or?What orce compels you to wage this war o fsts and fts and starts

o anger and

rage unolding page to page to page to page until

today,

When I heard your screams down Onondaga street as I sat on my

ront stoop.

And I criedor you, or me, Im not really sure.For your voice so strained, or your spirit so drained, or your fsts

that hopeully missed your target. We all need to work on our aim,

our goal o fnding a strong rock oundation o solidarity and not

a rock bottom street o uncertainty and ear. What will your fst

dismiss and what will it take responsibility or? When will it open up

and recognize the bliss that lies in hands that band together to rock

these perceived notions o dierence and roll into new images o

me and you standing on the same side?Paper.

A palm.

Your palm.

Slapped with the truth o human contact.

Sharing pieces o yoursel and seconds o your health and infnitely

small yet transormative energies speeding and crashing and creat-

ing a bond between borders o skin and arteries and

vain attempts to neglect the resounding beating o the drums o

each heartbeat in this room, eeling in our blood that we are a part

o something bigger:

a riendship, a community, a city, a state, a nation with

leaders on the street and

leaders well never meet.

The women and men meant to govern and add up the cost o war in


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bills and paper and bills and paper and red lines o budgets nudg-

ing our palms to clutch

what sense we have let in our heads and

what cents we have let jingling in our pockets.

Do we ip that coin and risk landing heads up: to declare war, towrite bills o torture, to battle with the past o tough times and

harsh lines and worn hands that wrought an iron ence too intense

to mend and heal;

or do we risk landing tails, tales o widows getting papers and tele-

grams stating that

We regret to inorm you mam,

the truths covered in camouaged lives and uniorms that defne

the texture o

one souls lie against anothers.

How the grain and pain o this army green and khaki and black and

white and brown and red kaleidoscope becomes the rope you climb

to choose that deadline or lieline as you hide behind grasses and

see merely ashes o light because

blinking eyes miss crucial moments.

Blinking eyes divide what is united intrinsically and rhythmically,because

enemies

hearts

beat

too

and their mothers cry out and shout names o those who ran

together never knowing how they could go palm to palm to make

their way rom orders on papers to jungles, deserts, streams,

DREAMSseen only when they close their eyelids,

the sites, views and hues o courage too young to give up and too

seless to turn back now.

A pledge becomes declared not on paper but on palms, a battlefeld

psalm

ormed ater many miles and many troubles and many struggles:


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My hands will cradle your broken body when you all.

My palm will calm your breath and close your eyes when you no

longer have control, when you release.

I will take that paper rom your inside pocket and put it next to my

heart.

And I will keep running. And you will still be one o us.Scissors.

An unexpected sign o peace.

A sign o humble power to cut down borders and boundaries.

To edit the texts o papers and the anger o fstssince you can

take that extra moment to contemplate the weight and the cost

o what youve brought to bear on a world which has seen its air

share o wear and tear.

We tear paper to pieces and see the many that create the one: each

part important,

each part needed to eed the fre at the heart o the matter.

We take fsts and close a scissors snip! to trim back our curt verse o

rustrated rage and fnd a chorus to vocalize our pride in a move-

ment o the universe,

one verse o common good that should warm our aces with rays o

golden rules and tools to dig deeper to meanings that tell the truthjust

below

the surace.

The fght is ar rom over.

But the enemies can be seen as any one and mes.

It couldve been me in her shoes, walking and running along to a

dierent drummer who eventually returns to the loud

resounding heartbeat underneath the skin o societiesand the stars o the sky.

And I sit and wonder why the cosmos know we exist,

but or what purpose?

I wonder about a peaceul puzzle that requires patience

and persistence and


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human imperections to cooperate and co-create a treaty sealed

and bonded with the

skin o handshakes in the ace o doubt and hate.

What will I embrace to see this ate come alive?

Watch or simple generosities and clever possibilities.Savor what survives and encourage what thrives to make new

shapes and cut along new lines to defne our experiences in all their

madness and truth.

Shoot.

Thrown down what you will.

Your decision.The choice is in your hands, and any second could be the second

that holds opportunities unseen and wisdoms come clean.

Keep your eyes on what is now and remember your roots

the next time you

rock,

paper,

scissors,

shoot.


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PEACEby Tia Williams, age 9

Imagine Syracuse

Peace is like a sunny feld

flled with owers.

It is like a maple tree.

It is like a cloud in the sky.

The touch o peace is smooth.

The ower is a rose.Peace is like the sun shining

oh so high.

Peace is like a bunny bouncy,

bouncy in the grass.

Peace is the color o pink.

Peace is a ast motion.


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Samantha Harmon

Blodgette Middle School

Pen, Pencil,Watercolor on Paper

Stacy Grin

Fused Glass and Bark

ArtTeacher at Blodgette MS.


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Samantha Harmon

Untitled

Pencil and Arcylic on top o Photo


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The West Side TulipsBy Terry Ritchie

Like tulips many o us are slinky and tall; while others are like a mixture o

blended colors, cute and

small.

Tulips have beautiul petals that slowly and graceully all to the ground, even

when no one is around to

see them all.

We as a people oten stumble and all, but most o us pick ourselves up and

continue to stand tall.

Some people are so ocused on the old dilapidated house that we come out o,

that they ail to noticethat we have begun soaring like the aggressive eagles and the peaceul, gentle

doves.

I only we had the power to eradicate hatred and prejudice we could teach

everyone to provide security,

embrace loyalty, and demand unwavering equality and justice or everyone.

When one petal alls rom a tulip it does not diminish the beauty o the other

tulips; similarly when oneperson makes a mistake it should not cause others to think negatively o

everyone that lives in that

locality or vicinity.

Some people speak disparagingly o the west side residents, but that is be-

cause they are outside looking

in; so they ail to see the beauty, eel the love, or experience the knowledge

that is ound deep within

our hearts and our minds.

I you look closely at the west side it has many beautiul tulips and many beau-

tiul people just waiting to

be discovered.


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Roxana Carpenter

St. Lucys Garden

Oil on paper


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Samantha Harmon

The Welcome Inn

Pencil and Pen on Paper


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Girl with the Yellow Jump Rope

Wire and Fabric

Calvin West - Grade 5

Imagine Syracuse


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Kristin Dugger

Ogress

Oil on Wood


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Louaisa Holmes-Grade 6

All About Me

Pencil and Oil Pastel

Imagine Syracuse


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Roxanna Carpenter

Drawing on Paper


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Josh Stowe

UntitledDrawing on paper


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New Man in the 'Hoodby Carole Horan

A young man striding down the street with purpose,Arms swinging, eyes and ears taking it all in.

Recently trading gown or town (diploma in hand),

He's here to help make a dierence.

Stacy Grin

Untitled

Fused Glass


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Patrick Suarez

Grade 5

The City

Marker and Oil Pastel

Seymour Dual-Language Academy

People are walking in the city on the sidewalk. One man is

walking with his dog. They like how the city looks with its

tall buildings and skyscrapers.

La gente est caminando en la ciudad. Un hombre est

caminando con su perro. A ellos las gustan como es la

ciudad con los edifcios muy altos y los rasacacielos


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Pattie Fiegl

Take Flight

Drawing with Poem on Paper


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Tattered Ticketsby Jay Furgal

In this realm o doves and bulldozerswe watch and wait

as i there were messages in the titles

as fne as we were

up the hill

spine speaks o rainbow nights

the river and the old mill, orgotten

over and maybe seen across

it said...

i read...

nudge on my side

my rainbow reection

almost a hero

mistaken or a earless orce

concentrated calm

thick and irregularin small circles around

buds o paralyzing permission

crumbled centro passports

insert into slot and enjoy the ride

into the sophia sky


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Savier Williams, Grade 4

Untitled

Blodgett School


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Jacqueline Padilla, Grade 7Blodgett School

Untitled

Mixed Media


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VoicesBy Jay Furgal

October called this morning

and imparted me to the importance o

reedom, second chances,

and mosaic table tops.


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