The following images are in response to Haruki Murakami’s short story, NEW YORK MINING DISASTER. These were created by Junior illustration students in Ken Henson’s Figuration class at the AAC. The poetry following each image was written by Matt Hart during our group critique. Ken says “Thank you” to his students and to Matt.
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Fahrudin Omerovic
One rectangular light like a geometric life, blazing in a city of off-switches.
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Eunha Chung
Every scene has its shadow, simplicity/complexity, like ants on a conveyor belt. Weird red sun in the distance.
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Julio Labra
Each one of us a hive, weird and massive constellations.
When we pull back the curtain of an ear, it’s amazing.
Swarmed or swarming. And expensive.
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Kayla Sorenson
The important stories break between the bars in our cages, between the ribbon-pink streets and secret platforms.
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Kathryn DiMartino
The deer and the cats, like a forest of X-rays.
Your breath hanging out in the distance of distance.
This fossil fuel maybe causes the disaster – an engine burning engine,
like a history lesson.
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Kristy Kemper
The path of the canary in the mouth of the tiger.
Spit-fire rollercoaster flooded with water.
Black-tie infirmary of fireworks snakes.
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Maureen Fellinger
When you raise up your hands, the anemones will blossom.
Multiple shadows make a darkness.
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Graham Vogel
The ears of many rabbits are your only window ever.
The depths become surfaces, the surfaces depths.
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Christine Hurayt
Dear foreign correspondent: Wish you were here.
I’m drinking a pick-axe at the bottom of the ocean.
All my dreams lately are bees with human beards.
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David Canny
Where are we flooded with red-headed spotlights?
My face is your face, but it’s never a likeness.
When you go to the trouble, let it be a commercial –
A commercial for Easy Bake Ovens and light.
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Jessica Burkhart
(image unavailable)
A three-headed flower with its heart on its sleeve; the space
in the void is NO BODY.
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Ashley Serra
When thought breaks pink, with time in a bumble, everyone of us
a raindrop breaking through rock.
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Sarah Grein
To convey this message, we’ll have to cool off.
A marching band future awaits you.
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Kincy Fields
television sucks all the air out of the room.
A vision into vision, where people aren’t breathing.
Nobody’s breathing, but everybody moves,
a stillness as still as evolution.
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Kourtnei Finnell
When we comfort each other in the light we have left,
let us always remember the party.
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