CAVALCADEPoint Park University’s creative MaGAzine

About the Editor

Kathryn Jones is a Point Park University Junior studying in Ad/PR and Multimedia. In what spare time she has she enjoys graphic design, writing comics, and ceramics.

In a world where businesses are requiring creativity from their staff it’s more important than ever to nurture creativity in yourself. Of course that’s easier said than done in university when you’ve got hours of classwork, likely a job and still want to have a few hours left over to yourself to watch your favorite shows and hang out with your friends. Unfortunately creativity is just like any other muscle and if you let it get weak it won’t be there when your teachers suddenly demand a creative spin on a project or when you have the opportunity to really do something fun with your imagination. So how do you keep that muscle strong and expand it? These are a few of my own personal ways.

Sign up for classes: There are classes that focus on creative outlets all over the city, so take them, either in what you’re good at or new things. Signing up for them requires you to empty out an actual time slot for spending time on creative projects instead of pushing it to the side for another time. Not only does it create that dedicated time in your schedule but also it’s likely that you’ll meet people that

will inspire you in some way in the process.

Do projects while you catch up on your favorite shows: Most of us will occasionally kickback and watch a show, whether you prefer to binge watch a season at a time or just catch them weekly it’s a time when you have your hands free and part of your brain as well. So pick up the pencil and pad, the knitting needles or whatever it is you use and take time to relax and stretch out your creative muscles.

Keep a binder of ideas and inspirations: Everyone thinks of ideas right before the go to bed, or finds something in a magazine that they think looks really cool. But our days are busy and by the time you get to work on something artistic the idea or inspiration is often gone. So put them in one place so you never put off working the creative muscles for the excuse that you don’t know what to do.

My ways might not work for you, but in the process of trying them out you might find your own tricks as you work those creative muscles. But the most important thing is to remember to take pride in what you can do, to show it off to the world. That’s what the Cavalcade is all about, Point Park celebrating the creative child we all hopefully keep in ourselves as we grow older.

Editor’s Note“Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once we grow up.” – Pablo Picass

Photography

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2

3

by: Kiersten Lewis

Photography

Photography

by: Kiersten Lewis

by: Kiersten Lewis

Photography

Photography

by: Kiersten Lewis

by: Kiersten Lewis

Photography

Photography

by: Kiersten Lewis

by: Lauren Finkel

Photography

Photography

by: Lauren Finkel

by: Lauren Finkel

Graphic Design

Graphic Design

by: Onicell

by: Kaitlyn Colhouer

Graphic Designby: Kaitlyn Colhouer

Graphic Designby: Kaitlyn Colhouer

Comics

Comics

by: Sehn & Onicell

by: Sehn & Onicell

Comics

Comics

by: Sehn & Onicell

by: Sehn & Onicell

Comics

Comics

by: Sehn & Onicell

by: Sehn & Onicell

Comics

Comics

by: Sehn & Onicell

by: Sehn & Onicell

Comicsby: Sehn & Onicell

Comicsby: Sehn & Onicell

Comicsby: Sehn & Onicell

Comics

Comics

by: Sehn & Onicell

by: Sehn & Onicell

Comicsby: Sehn & Onicell

Animation

Animation While we can’t print animations

for obvious reasons check out the animations section at

www.ppucavalcade.com

Comicsby: Sehn & Onicell

Edward sipped his drink as he watched the entertainment circle the garden. The host of the party had odd taste to hire a voodoo witch doctor but he supposed it was something different to look at. The man shuf-fled about on bandaged feet, a burlap cape with long black feather on it obscured most of his body, except the occasional arm peeking out to give someone something.

He noticed uneasily that the entertainer’s fingers looked very clawish. But worst was the mask he wore. The bottom half of his face was visible but above that was a leather mask that looked very crow like with a mane of black feathers coming off the back. And in one of its eye sockets was a red eye that moved, he was so sure it moved. But that was all just trickery and showmanship. Everyone knew that.

So he refused to act any different as the man approached him, refused to wonder how the man saw so well with his eyes so covered by that mask. His voice was nothing like Edward had imagined, he had expect-ed soothing and peaceful, the covering of wisdom over a man just doing this for the money. But his voice was raspy, and Edward found himself leaning in to hear the pleasant buzz of it. The witch doctor asked, “What do you want as a gift from this party?”

He sighed and asked, “How much?” As long as it didn’t cost too much he might as well ask for something as a way to remember the strange man, it wasn’t like he cared about remembering this boring party.

The thin lips curved slightly before he shook his head, causing the feathers to rustle like leaves. “No charge.”

The host must have paid for him to give away party favors. “Okay fine, let me think.” He had said anything and he wanted to try and stump the other man since he had to match his request with some useless trinket.

Even as he shifted from side to side the red eye followed him and he wondered what mechanism was letting it do that. He was really trying to think of a way to stump the other man when he said, “It must be hard.” He sounded amused and Edward hated people being amused at his expense.

He narrowed his eyes and asked, “What?” For all his creepiness the witch doctor was still just an employee and he had something coming if he thought that he could say something like that to Edward, the moron was stuck in this dead end entertainment job while Edward was making a name for himself.

For his anger he got a larger smile that seemed like it should be painful for the man’s mouth, twisting it too wide. “Having so great a mind to think of possibilities and only one wish to ask for. Shall I tell you what others have asked for?” He seemed a bit closer than before though Edward couldn’t remember him moving, but at least it was easier for him to hear him now and he smelled pleasantly like herbs.

Edward straightened his suit a little, pleased that the other man could tell he was better than everyone else when it came to his mind and nodded, curious to hear whatever boring things the others had asked for.

Almost as if he was singing a nursery rhyme the other man told him, “They asked for money, for fame, for love, for sex, and one little girl asked for a pony.” The soothing cadence made it a bit hard to con-centrate on the words but Edward managed, of course he did, and he disdained them all as childish things to ask for.

He had to ask, “They all asked for those specific things?” For a few of them he could imagine but there was no one in the crowd that he thought was crude enough to outright ask for fame or sex.

He shook his head. “No, but pretty wording does not change the truth.” Maybe this performer was cleverer than he had first thought. That only made him want to stump him more.

“What can’t you give?” He didn’t want him to use that as an excuse every time he didn’t have something that matched well with what Edward asked for.

“Nothing.” Edward thought he heard a playful lilt in the other man’s voice and wondered if he was enjoying this as much as he was, if they were actually both playing together, matching wits. It must be bor-ing for the man to spend all his time around people who were easily sucked into that voodoo nonsense.

But finally he had something different and told him, “Fine. Then I ask for truth.” What sort of thing would he try and pawn off on him? Eyeglasses or some other nonsense like that?

Instead of immediately rooting around in his cape he asked, “What kind?” Which made Edward smile, this man really was good, maybe he should try and get in contact with him out of that silly costume.

But he still wanted to win. “Inner truth. Show me everything about myself and give me the truth.” There was no way he could do that.

A smile pulled at those thin lips again. “Very well.” He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a woman’s perfume bottle, old and the top was rusted.

Just as Edward was about to say something he heard, “Hey you! How did you get into my party?” from behind him and turned to see the host of the party striding towards them. Since they were friends Edward knew that that wasn’t directed at him. Just what the man meant dawned on him and he turned back to the witch doctor who wasn’t just an entertainer, suddenly realizing he could be in some real danger. Not from voodoo obviously but some real means of doing someone harm.

He got a face full of spray from the bottle and the man murmured in his ear, so close, too close, “Fear is the only truth.”

He startled back, gasping in surprise and suddenly the red eye had disappeared and the skull’s eye sockets shone bright gold and seemed to suck him in with their brilliance and beauty. They blinded him and he closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes the light was gone and so was the party. He was back in a dingy room he knew too well, the TV blaring sports. Edward felt panic growing in his chest as he heard heavy footsteps and an angry yell of his name. He looked down at himself and saw a scared little boy and hugged himself as his father came in, as giant as he remembered.

The gathered crowd watched as Edward began to scream. From the branch of a tree the witch doctor who had disappeared from everyone’s sight watched as well with his too wide smile.

Creative Writing

Creative Writing

by: Onicell

by: Onicell

Dinner GuestDeath stopped by my house today

Simply on his way to another place And another time

But my sister so fair and sweetCaught his eye

And Death fell in love with the softest sound

And now Death and my sister stare into each other’s eyesAs he is wrapped around my sister’s finger

The darkest ring ever wrought

As her lips shine like rubies From the force of his kisses

As she gasps in her bed

I watch as they writhe Until they are finished

And shut her eyes for her

I am in the house of the sleepingLeft alone with Death and the chores to do

Dinner is still on the table, untouched by the catMy parents too caught up by their new son-in-law

To finish their meals

And now that Death has loved my sisterAnd dined with my parents to impress them

He waves his hand and drifts away

DownI hate you sometimes

For being there in sunlit momentsBut disappearing like smoke

when I reached out to save myselffrom plummeting down into the dark well

The cold and slimy pit in my mind

Don’t tell me you knew I was strong enoughTo climb out on my own

I have paler lines on pale skin that spellYou were wrong

The sight of the train tracks below the oncoming train screams

You were wrongYou were wrong

And I almost died because of your mistakeYour faith

Down in that wellI learned to hate myself As much as you must

to leave me in such a place

I love you But sometimes

When I read my story in those paler linesI hate you

Enough to pull you down into the well with me

Poetry

Poetryby: Onicell

by: Anonymous

Ceramics

Ceramics

by: Onicell

by: Onicell

Thank you to all our contributors

Anonymous Kaitlyn Colhouer

Lauren FinkelKiersten Lewis

OnicellSehn

To see the magazine online go towww.ppucavalcade.com