Letter from the Editors

What is KCAA? KCAA is a place where artists come to grow and learn from others around

them. We learn how to express ourselves using our creativity and imagination, and we

learn to become confident in ourselves so that we can share our artwork with others. We

value individuality in the student body, and we encourage personal expression.

Chuong L.

The KCAA Art and Literary Magazine is a way to celebrate the artists who choose to

open up to our school, our community, and our world. The students of KCAA are coming

together to celebrate each other and to show the world what we are made of. We are

KCAA, and we are proud. We named our magazine “Limitless” because that is how we

choose to see ourselves as individuals and as a school. We are limitless.

Sincerely yours,

The KCAA Art/Literary Magazine Staff

Art/Literary Magazine Staff: 2014-2015

Jamie A.

Hugo A.

Sandra A.

Melissa E.

Ariana H.

Sayde H.

Jennifer L.

Berwo M.

Jerry M.

Cuong N.

Jessica O.

Gabriela P.

Angie P.

Jess R.

Jacob R.

Joseph S.

Katie Weisberger

Table of Contents

“American Dream” by Destiny N. 3 Digital Manipulation by Monica G. 4 “Invisible” by Kendy G. 5

“Our Días Enumerados Sin Fin” por Vallerie B. 7

Untitled by Russel P. 9

Solo Yo Me Conosco? / Only I Know Me por Sayde H. 10

Untitled by Sandra A. 11 Untitled by Jacob R. 12 You Should Be in the News by Hannah S. 13 Lady Justice is Alive by Kalina G. 14 Untitled by Han D. 14 Light Studies by Aryonna M. 15 Light Studies by Caleb D. 16 See the Light: Song Lyrics by Andres C. 17 “Y Si Tu Hijo Fuerra el 43? / And What if Your Child Were One of the 43?” By Destiny N. 18 Never Quit Drawing by Jenny L. 19

Cover Art by Emma P.

3

“American Dream” By Destiny N.

It all started with the crossing of the border, All that struggle it took to get that dream. Soon to be told that he was not wanted here. He sees his brothers and sisters, Chicanos, Chinos, Blacks; All of them, through and through, Hiding, HIDING, roaming through the streets. He came here expecting that white picket fence, green perfect grass, cut to the edge. That black suit with suitcase in hand. His wife waiting at the dinner table with his children, But instead he came here and gets working 10 hours a day, Walking home in the cold with his dirty work clothes, A metal barbed wired fence, Dead brown grass, A small apartment barely being able to fit his family of six With some food at the table; barely being able to feed all of their mouths. His wife working overtime to feed the children. And now he does not know what to do because He thought this was the land of the free. They all sang, "THE LAND OF THE FREE, THE LAND OF THE FREE," But there is no WE in FREE, can't you see? OPEN YOUR EYES. We make up America, But nobody sees us the people. Nobody will see us the people. So he goes and does what he has to do for his family, So they could be happy and not having to struggle like they did before. Now, Not knowing what he had gotten himself into he is now being handcuffed

And the stars are falling from his eyes. Now these stripes are defining him. He looks at his family through a clear glass, Seeing his wife and children ashamed because of what he did. But he says to them, "I did it for you, I had to do it for my family because we don't have that dream here mija. What else can I tell you what more?" Now I, I grew up knowing, "¡QUE VIVA LA RAZA, QUE VIVA LA RAZA!" and "THE LAND OF THE FREE, OH AMERICA THE LAND OF THE FREE!" But he, he came here to this country thinking it'll be so much better than it was over there, But there is no such thing of this So called "American Dream" Can't you see it is not the dream here, It is struggle. Long, hard working days of struggle. OPEN YOUR EYES, I am actually telling you to open your eyes now Because if you look up at the starry sky all of these stars are hypnotizing you To believe that dream. All they are telling you are lies, Lies are falling from the sky Rather than soaring in the night sky. Now, he stands here defined by these stripes. It is not that so called dream. AMERICA THE LAND OF THE FREE? I don't believe in America the land of the free, I don't see it the way I did before. All I see is Lies, Money, Greed. Money defining everything. Money here, Money there. It isn't all about money But that is what it is here. Don't bother looking up the American Dream, There shouldn't be one.

4

Monica G.

5

“Invisible”

by Kendy G.

My piece of artwork is a digital piece that was inspired by the work of Valerie James who created a

sculpture of items, shoes mainly, that were found in the desert and belonged to immigrants that died in

their pursuit of the American Dream. To be honest, my piece is more of a response to what has been said

about James’ artwork, this being because many find her work as a cheap version of the Holocaust that can

never be considered artwork. It is for this reason that my piece displays the fact that illegal immigrants

do matter and should not be judged by their hopes of living better.

The American dream is a key point in my project because in the image I display families that are

happy but are still missing something and it is then when members decide to migrate. Each picture has a

person outlined in black to represent that fact that they are missing and despite the fact that they don't

matter to us they matter to their families. That no one will ever replace them, that they are always going

to be missed, but most of all they will never be forgotten. Another very important piece is the use of the

sculpture of "La Madre" that is found in the border to represent all the mothers that are left heart broken

by their families breaking apart to be able to search for a better future. This part of the project is also

supposed to signify the fact that there is hope of seeing their family members again since the posture of

the sculpture makes it seem as if the women would be praying.

Another very important element that accounts for the name of my piece, "Invisible," is the use of

words that describe the immigrant from both sides. The name “Invisible” comes from how the words

overlap with the whole image making them representative of the fact that there is always going to be

someone judging yet being transparent: to show that they mean nothing to the hardworking immigrants.

I really do hope that my artwork opens the eyes of many to realize that it is time to open our eyes and

look at the reality in which we are living . While we love our happy lives, there are many families in pain,

not knowing if their family members are alive or dead! It is time to start caring for humanity!

6

“Invisible” by Kendy G.

7

“Our Días Enumerados Sin Fin”

por Vallerie B.

Yo siempre he estado orgullosa de mi cultura, donde el lenguaje parece tan suave y rico como el

chocolate Abuelita. También dónde las celebraciones obtienen el ambiente feliz y familiar, las comidas

tradicionales que se pasan de generación a generación, y los cuentos tristes, felices, y victoriosos. Nunca en mi

vida he sido avergonzada por hablar español o por la forma en que mi piel se compara con el chocolate. Pero

eso no significa que no he tenido personas que me atormentaban al respecto. La mayor parte de mi

experiencia en la escuela primaria fui objeto de burla por hablar español y por ser morena. Mi mama me puso

en clases de español empezando el Kínder hasta mediados del segundo grado. En veces nos enseñaban lo

básico de leer y escribir en inglés pero nunca se enfocaron tanto en que tuviéramos fluidez en el inglés. En la

clase de Ms. García, mi maestra de segundo grado, de acuerdo con los otros maestros, se tomó la decisión de

darme la oportunidad de estar en clases de inglés por medio día. En mi mente, la idea me emocionaba; mas

amistades, más recuerdos, y más oportunidades en el pero a la hora de la realidad todo parecía más bien un

infierno. ¿Quién iba saber que niñas de la edad de 7 años podían tener tanta maldad?

Todo empezó cuando la maestra me pidió por primera vez que leyera en voz alta un párrafo de un libro

que se llamaba, "Nate the Great". Inmediatamente, me puse nerviosa, yo sabía que mi inglés todavía tenía un

acento fuerte. Sin embargo, me puse a leer, pero el libro tenía palabras difíciles y cada vez que paraba, los

estudiantes se reían. A mí no me importaba tanto, de por sí, pensé que ellos nomás sabían un lenguaje y yo

dos. Mi hermano mayor tuvo circunstancias similares, por lo tanto el me enseñaba cómo comportarme en

situaciones como esta. En veces, cuando me enojaba con la maestra y los estudiantes, les gritaba malas

palabras en español, "¡Niños malosos! Qué no saben a respetar a los demás, hipócritas, y usted también

estúpida maestra, pinche racista!" Yo les decía. Además, cuando me preguntaban la traducción yo nomás les

decía que nunca podrán saber porque nomás sabían el inglés.

Durante el año, mejore mi inglés y los maestros estaban orgullosos de mi porque lo estaba aprendiendo

muy rápido. Ellos estaban felices por mi progreso, pero yo no estaba feliz. Obviamente, estaba orgullos de

cuanto aprendí pero no estaba segura en el ambiente. Casi no veía mis amigos de mis clases de español y los

extrañaba, en mi clase de inglés no tenía amigas o amigos. Cuando íbamos a la biblioteca, yo quería escoger

libros en español pero las niñas siempre me decían , "¡You cant check out books in Spanish. If You want to go

back to your Spanish class, then go, its not like you're any good here!" , por mucho lo que me dian, y ojos

entendía! Cuando se acabó el segundo grado, estaba agradecida que finalmente se acabó el año. Yo nunca le

dije a mi mama, porque era algo que no me molestaba tanto.

8

Entrando tercer año, yo tenía la misma clase de estudiantes como el año anterior. Desafortunadamente,

es exactamente lo que paso, las mismas niñas que me atormentaban de mi acento y de mi piel morena eran las

primeras que vi entrando al salón. Sin embargo, encontraron algo más para burlarse de mí; de mi forma de

vestir. Casi todos mis años de primaria, mi mama me escogía mi ropa y siempre me peinaba con trenzas. A mi

no me molestaban porque era niña chiquita y todavía no tenía el concepto de personas juntándose por la ropa

que tenían. En esos años, yo totalmente no sabía que era Areopostale. Obviamente, nunca había comprado de

esa marca! Yo sola, estaba en el laboraría de computación. Entraron las niñas y me miraron como sí fuera un

cáncer. Yo las ignore como siempre. Me preguntaron, "¿Tú no sabes que es Aeropostale?", yo dije, "no."

Inmediatamente me dijeron que era muy pobre porque no podía comprar de esa marca. De ahí nomás me

decían que mi familia era pobre porque era hispana. Otra vez las ignore como siempre. Estas burlas siguieron

todo el año, pero como siempre ha sido para mí, la escuela no es para buscar pleito, es para aprender.

Era mi cuarto grado, cuando cosas escalaron. Dos nuevas niñas se empezaron a juntarse con las niñas

que se burlaron de mí todos los años anteriores. Era un día cuando la maestra nos dejó ir afuera y yo me fui

sola a los columpios. Las niñas se acercaron y me agarraron mi mochila y la tiraron al suelo. Luego me

levantaron de los columpios y me tiraron. Yo les di un puñetazo en la cara. Sentí una sensación de descanso y

alivio. Finalmente hice algo para defenderme, capas no era la mejor idea, pero todavía lo hice! Y resulta que a

mí me castigaron! Sin embargo, yo no me preocupe porque en mi mente, yo sabía que era la causa. Desde ese

entonces, ya ni me importaba, yo nomás iba a la escuela para la educación, amigos nunca busqué.

Siempre cuando les cuento a una persona de esta historia, sienten lástima por mí. Piensan que esta era

una época de tormenta y obstáculos. Pero esos sentimientos que sienten las personas, no deben de ser tristes.

¿Si yo, nunca pare y me puse a llorar cómo niña chiquita que era, porque ustedes por algo que le paso a otro

ser humano? Yo en cualquier momento le pudiera decir a mi mama o a los maestros que me quería salir de la

clase de inglés. Pero no lo hice. ¿Por qué? Porqué todo tenemos que tomar riesgos con fe y sufrir las

consecuencias para un futuro mejor. Tal vez no pensaba exactamente eso cuando tenía 7, 8 años, pero siempre

tenía la idea de tener éxito en el futuro. Y eso es lo que tenemos que entender todos. No todo va hacer fácil,

tampoco siempre vamos a encontrar un atajo. Trabajemos de manera inteligente, no duró. Si yo fuese quedado

en clase de español por unos 2 o 3 años más, yo no estaría en clases más avanzadas hoy. Finalmente, con este

cuento ahí dos enseñanzas; nunca te avergoncéis de tu propia cultura, y toma riesgos, aunque en ese exacto

momento la vista no se está mirando muy bien, ten fe.

9

By Russell P.

10

Solo Yo Me Conosco? Por Sayde H. ¿Quien me conoce? Todos diran yo te conosco, Pero realmente nadie sabe. En esta vida la única persona Que me conoce soy yo Tu dirás por que yo solamente Solamente yo porque Yo se cuando ando mal, Enferma, enojada o triste No todos entendemos esto, Pero todos sabemos Que la mejor forma De decir lo que sentimos Es haciendo lo que mas nos gusta. La única persona que conoce Mis estados de animo soy yo Porque yo solo se cuando no estoy bien Cuando necesito estar sola Pero la única persona que entiende Las cosas que están mal y que no tengo que hacerlas Pero la que también se emociona, La que siente las emociones, La que decea que la oigan los demás, La que aveces no puede ser escuchada La que no siempre esta bien con ella misma, La que aparenta con una sonrisa La que no todos entienden. La que todos dicen ella tiene una forma diferente de ser. Por que diferente, no es diferente Es mi cultura,la cultura que mis seres queridos Me dieron, y la cual me representa, Me identifica, me enseña y sobre todo, La cultura que mas valoro, Y la que me describe como ser humano.

Only I Know Me By Sayde H. Who knows me? I know you will say you know me, But nobody really knows. In this life the only person Who knows me is me You will say why only me? Because only I know I know when I'm wrong, Sick, angry or sad Not everyone understands this, But we all know That the best way To say what we feel Is doing what we like The only person who knows My moods is me Because only I know when I'm not ok When I need to be alone But the only person who understands The things that are wrong and that I don't have to do But it also gets excited, But that also gets excited Who wishes to be heard by others, Which sometimes cannot be heard Which is not always ok with herself, Which appears with a smile That not everyone understands. Everyone says she has a different way of being. Because different, is not different It is my culture, the culture that my loved ones Gave to me, and that represents me, Identifies me, teaches me and above all, The culture that I value more, And descries me as a human being.

11

Sandra A.

12

Jacob R.

13

You Should Be in the News

By Hannah S.

In my art, you can see a variety of words collaged together. I intended to collage body parts together, but I settled on imposing a filter to exaggerate how magazines drastically change and alter women's appearances. In my inspiration, "You Are Not in the News," artist Robert Albiac incorporated a gray scale to make the piece more emotionally appealing, while I included pops of color to signify modern-day magazines. I believe that we women are held to high standards that we often can't reach. It breaks my heart how every single magazine cover I viewed had a young girl with minimal curves and a flat tummy. With this art I hope to show other girls like me that these standards aren't achievable. I took the collages from teen magazines that I read when I was younger and also really popular magazine covers like "Vogue" and "Seventeen." I am extremely concerned with the hypocrisy we are exposed to as teenagers and young women in the world today.

14

Lady Justice is Alive By Kalina G. Lady Justice is alive. She has broken free from the oppressive brass structure and walks among us all now. Lady Justice is alive. She has traded her sword for a pen and her scale for a journal, telling the stories of her ferocious battle. Lady Justice is alive. Energy fueled by passion and inspired by defeat oozes out of her, and creates an aura that can’t be ignored. Lady Justice is alive. She has persevered through cell blocks and handcuffs, they tried to break her, we tried to break her. Lady Justice is alive. The strength derived from her muscular physique is born inside of her, her muscles are crafted through heavy lifting of the world, and picking up the pieces that have fallen. Lady Justice is alive. The failures of her past, is the force that moves her forward, to persevere is her nature slowing down on occasion, but never fully stopping. Lady Justice is alive. She has picked up the material that once draped her weary body, and dawns prideful attire which prepares her for the opponents whom refuse to tire. Lady Justice is alive. Though her eyes are blind to color, class, and creed. She has a beautiful vista, that is the compass through her perilous journey. Lady Justice is Alive. She is with you in the morning, carries you each day, and by your side at night. She is the one who says, keep going and motivates your fight. She is there when you can’t see, feel, or hear her. She has given the world it’s warriors, nourishing them with love.

Lady Justice is Alive, and she makes up my whole world. Lady Justice gave me life, gave me faith, gave me drive. Lady Justice is the one I look to, when it seems my flame has died. Lady Justice walks among us, with sore feet and weak knees. Her endeavors encompass the night and day, each one existing in a different time continuum. The path she walks is endless, and for that she has won. Lady Justice is alive. She is not a stiff bronze sculpture, gathering dust over time, She is watching her mother die. She is running away. She is homeless. She is heartbroken and rusted. She is tired. She is lost. She is in love. She is beautiful. She is faithful. She is kind. She is victorious. She is alive like you and I.

Han D.

15

“Light Studies” by Aryonna M.

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“Light Studies” by Caleb D.

17

See the Light: Song Lyrics

By Andrés C.

Sitting around with the family watching TV, It's making people all over go crazy, They only see what they wanna see,

They don't stand up cause they're all lazy, These animals live in fear for what's to come,

They don't seem to have a way out, All they try to do is run run run.

It's time to stand up,

And fight for what's right, It's time to make these people see the light.

It can't go on like this,

Cause if it does we might miss This beautiful gift from God above

All these animals all they have to give is love, love, love. Hundreds of years of this tradition It's time for us to make our mission

To stop these Bulls from dyin’ Cause we all know that deep inside we're all cryin.

It's time to stand up,

And fight for what's right, It's time to make these people see the light.

Death after death is all this is giving,

It destroys that life we thought was worth living, If all it has to offer is this monstrosity of a sport,

Then we all live inside a lonely sad and destroyed court, Where the ruling of injustice is all that is made,

Then we as a human race have truly begun to fade, I'm only going to say this one more time,

Get your heads out of your asses and stop the crime.

Cause now is the time fight for what right, It's time to make these people see the light.

18

“Y Si Tu Hijo Fuerra el 43? / And What if Your Child Were One of the 43?” By Destiny N.

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Jenny L.

Thank you for reading Limitless. Look forward to our second issue: Spring 2015!