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MOCA ZINE 2010

MOCAZINE

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Welcome to the Eleventh Year of the MOCAZINE!

The Museum of Contemporary Art, North Miami, is delighted to work with the talentedyoung people of our community to create an arts and culture magazine by and for teens.

The goal of the MOCAZINE is to acquaint teens with career opportunities in the fields of

art and communications, as well as introduce teens to the world of contemporary art. All

of the articles in the MOCAZINE are written by teens. This publication is meant to serve as

a teaching tool, and showcase the hard work and efforts of the actively involved teens that

bring fresh energy to MOCA. The MOCAZINE enables teens to make connections with

MOCA’s exhibitions, and with one another.

Please feel free to contact me with any questions or comments at [email protected] .Looking forward,

Lark Keeler

Interim Curator of Education

MOCA’s teen programs are made possible through funding from The Children’s Trust,

National Endowment for the Arts, The Florida Department of Education and the School

Board of Miami-Dade County, Jan and Dan Lewis, The Arnold S. Katz Endowment, Florida

Department of State, Division of Cultural Affairs and the Florida Arts Council, John H. & EthelG. Noble Charitable Trust with Deutsche Bank acting as Trustee, Ethel & W. George Kennedy

Family Foundation, The Columbine Foundation, and Citi Foundation, Mickey and Madeline

Arison Family Foundation and the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation.

Bonnie Clearwater MOCA Director and Chief Curator

Joanne Katz Board of Trustees, Co-Chair of the Education Committee

Cindi Nash Board of Trustees, Co-Chair of the Education Committee

Lark Keeler Interim Curator of Education

Jillian Hernandez Education Outreach Coordinator

Karla Kennedy Summer Journalism Instructor

Gus Miranda Drawing Instructor

Noelle Theard Photography Instructor

Sydney Richardson Editor

Rachel Zaretsky Editor

Tommy Ralph Pace Graphic Design Advisor

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MOCA ZINE 2010

CONTENTS

MOCAZINE2010

ARTICLES

Shinique Smith.............................................................................................. PG.4

Convention..................................................................................................... PG.6

Soy Mi Madre................................................................................................. PG.8

Fascinated with Football............................................................................. PG.10

The Digital Frontier...................................................................................... PG.12

Admus Cain and God.................................................................................... PG.14

STUDENT ART PROFILES

Lucia Sanchez............................................................................................. PG.22

Audrey Gair.................................................................................................. PG.24

Azura Wannman............................................................................................ PG.26

Daniel Young................................................................................................. PG.28

Christopher Labora...................................................................................... PG.29

Jennifer Mendez........................................................................................... PG.30

Rachel Zaretsky............................................................................................ PG.31

MOCA PROGRAMS

Perspective : Selections from Photography classes at MOCA................. PG.32

Render : Selections from Drawing Classes at MOCA................................ PG.38

WOTR!............................................................................................................. PG.42

Young Bohemians........................................................................................ PG.44

Teen Programs............................................................................................. PG.46

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shinique smitht r, mOCA d Vva Azala ad oppory o dow w clpr ad par

s s o lar or abo r pcog mOCA

xbo magr, r ory, prao ad flc.

IntervIew by: vIvIan azalIa

Vivian: So I have seen some of your work and it’s

kind of abstract with the grafti and calligraphy.

How would you describe it?

Shinique: I’m really bad at making labels, but for

me it’s a combination of many inuences of my

life occurring in one space. I’m taking this chaos

and making a harmony out of it. When i was a kid

I tagged, so there’s an element of that. I studied

calligraphy. I use words as my tool of abstraction

and also I use it as a form of meditation. There are

afrmations or bits from songs.

Vivian: Which element of your composition is the

most important and that you like the most?

Shinique: There isn’t a hierarchy. I try and make

things equal. I don’t want anything to be higher; it

just has to move the story along. It’s a mixture of

being emotional & analytical, I don’t want to have

something in there just because it’s cool, and it

really has to move the story along.

Vivian: Which message are you trying to commu-

nicate with your artwork?

Shinique: I’m just declaring something to be true

and try to be honest--as honest as I can be. As

far as politically there isn’t one specic message.I think with what I use, it symbolizes how everyone

ties into together, how everyone consumes, we

all desire. It symbolizes memories of our youth,

when you feel invincible and everything in that ur-

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MOCA ZINE 2010

ban environment seems beautiful. It’s bringing

the high and the low, the cheap and the expen-

sive, my grandmother’s stuff next to someone’s

grandmother’s stuff. There’s text, with notes

that I found. It’s more of an essence that con-

nects us all--all the little things--our residue.

Vivian: How did you cross over from tagging to

now sculpture and painting?

Shinique: Well my grafti career was very brief.

I have friends who were more informed than I

was. The writing in my art work is more of a

ribbon that ties everything together. When I tie

sculpture, it’s the same kind of linear gesture as

writing.

Vivian: Do you like painting or sculpting better?

Shinique: It depends on the day. You have

a love/hate relationship. I don’t even know if I

know how to make a sculpture, because I didn’t

study it. I gure it out as I’m going along. Both

things--both rely on collage. I don’t love one

form more than another.

Vivian: Which piece is your favorite?

Shinique: I have a few favorites. When I look at

the work and I ask if I made that, it doesn’t even

feel as it came from me. I’m kind of a pack rat.

That I attach to my work.

Vivian: So you have used your own clothes to

make your work?

Shinique: Yes. I have regretful moments when

I see my sculptures, especially when I rst start-

ed and didn’t have anything. It was a sense of

discovery and taking things people have dis-

carded, and giving them a new energy. Most

of the things I use have history in them and I

try and stay away from that and not play that up

too much. I don’t want to hit anyone over the

head with “oh this is old, and this has meaning.”

People connect to things in different ways.

Vivian: Do you have any of your pieces in your

house?

Shinique: I do. I have a couple things I’ll never part with. When I rst started using script in my

work and using grafti remover, I would write

and then remove it, try and make it clean, and

remove it, and buff it write again. It has this

“scroll feel” to it. My rst sculpture-- I’ll never let

that go, but for the most part is to not live and

die around it. Work can loosen energy when not

seen, so I don’t keep too many things. I like to

have it out in the world where people can see it.Vivian: I was wondering with the use of callig-

raphy in your work, do you have any Japanese

ancestry?

Shinique: Nope, I just studied it. I’m more Na-

tive American, German. A lot of my art has the

“scrolly nature” of Celtic art. I love it.

Vivian: On a funny note, what does your com-

forter look like? Is it funky?

Shinique: You would think I’d have one but no,the most Celtic room is the living room. Apart

from that my bedroom is simple, robin egg’s

blue.

Vivian: What does your closet look like?

Shinique: Well, my closet looks plain. I wear a

lot of black.

Vivian: Where do you nd most of the clothes

for your art?

Shinique: I get it from people I know or peoplethey know. People are forever buying stuff they

don’t need just because they like the fabric. I

have a lot of material. My work has this super

hero vibe to it that I guess some pieces have

soaked up.

Vivian: What inspires you?

Shinique: Well my mom worked at a magazine

and fashion has always inspired me. I’ve always

been around fabrics and cloth even though I hat-

ed the smell. I’m also inspired by music, lots of

female singers, lots of rock and roll, and when

rock and rap came together, as well as fashion

designers.

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The Museum of Contemporary Art’s exhibition,

Convention, centers on the idea of professional and

social gatherings in a fast-pace culture dominated

by the Internet and other forms of media.

Convention is a group exhibition that raises ques-

tions as to how people meet in the world. The pieces

displayed showed ways that people could convene,

provide critiques of conventions, or pose opportuni-

ties for actual gatherings.

“It is important to network, and for social and profes-

sional groups to gather, and that’s why this exhibit

was created,” Ruba Katrib, Assistant Curator and

creator of Convention said.

Convention delves into other ways of gathering that

don’t include the social networking sites, e-mail pro-

grams, or cell phone services, that people in the

contemporary world usually resort to.

“Convention shows people that there are other ways to meet other than the internet or thorough the

phone,” Amber Mark, a student who attended the

exhibit with the summer journalism institute said.

CONVEN

TIONAT THE MUSEUM OF CONTEMPORARY ART

Hilary Higgins

11th GradeMiami Lakes Educational Center

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The exhibit, open from May 21 to September

13, 2009 is interactive. Many pieces require

audience participation, and allow for actual

gatherings to occur.

“What appeals to me is the fact that the

exhibit is a very active one. Each piece re-

ally engaged me in a different way,” Donna

Fields, the director of communications said.

Pieces in the exhibit range from different

types of mediums such as photography, lm,

sculptures, or installations.

“This show is probably the most engaging

one, and the pieces reach beyond the tra-

ditional art objects. Every work brings some-

thing to the show,” Katrib says.

Miami also plays a part in the exhibit’s mean-

ing. As a center for diverse groups and con-

vention culture it is a place where many so-

cial and professional conventions are held.

Katrib wanted to create a platform to gath-

er professionals especially those in the art

world.

“The idea started with the rotating cast of

people that come to Miami, and gather at

the Miami Beach Convention Center. Miami

is a city that is affected by this networking,”

Katrib said.

The exhibit is composed of pieces from local

and international artists. In itself it is a meet-

ing place for many different groups.

Dancers practice in a piece called the

Rehearsal Space. Presentations are held in

The Helga platform. Groups of people gath-

er to see the exhibit, and artists go to explain

their work.

One of the pieces displayed at the museum

is the Salon Colada. Fritz Haeg created the

piece. It explores the places people gather.

Haeg is working with a Coral Gables couple

who agreed to have their living room furni-

ture transplanted to the museum. The cou-ple was provided with furnishings that would

be used to host salon discussions in their

homes.

“ It’s really an extraordinary project. It’s pretty

remarkable what’s happening in the home of

the couple, and then the meeting of people

here in the living room,” Fields said.

The Museum of Contemporary Art in North

Miami usually hosts about eight to ten ex-

hibits a year, each about two to four months.

The museum is involved with the community,

and hosts programs correlating with the cur-

rent exhibit.

“MOCA is very closely knit with the local

community. We do it through the exhibitions,

outreach programs, free jazz shows, and

we work closely with schools. Reaching the

community is the heart of what MOCA is all

about,” Fields said.

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‘Soy Mi Madre’ depicts a story in which stereotypical Spanish culture is the pinnacle as

far as humor goes. Te husband, Sergeant Sainte, is portrayed as a womanizing aristocrat.

His wife, Sable, is a vicious woman who treats her servants with suspicion and resentment,

accusing Solana, her younger sister and servant of stealing an heirloom. Although the

servants had stolen the heirloom, they sold it to help treat Solana’s husband who had been

injured working for the Sainte’s as a landscaper. When Sable was asked for money from

Solana and her mother Clara, she scoed at the two and accused them of being ungrateful.

Enraged, Solana secretly plotted to seek revenge upon her employer Sable. Eventually as the

lm climaxes, Solana’s husband dies, she becomes angered and pulls a gun on Sable. Clara

in a moment of desperation to end Sable and Solana’s feud reveals that she is Sable’s mother.

Solana then breaks a vase on the oor and orders Sable to get on her knees and clean the

shattered vase. “Clean it with your precious little hands!”

Synopsis

Phil Collins, Still from “Soy Mi Madre”, from the exhibition “Te Reach of Realism at MOCA.

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Tis dramatic portrayal of a twisted family concealing truths from each other in times of

dire need and cooperation is dynamic, humorous, and suspenseful. From the audiences

view the mother seems suspiciously cautious which is logical when we nd that both

women, servant and the austere rich woman, are her daughters, although neither know.

Te husband complains about his wife and their lack luster relationship and drinks heavily

to cope. Te tension that is invisible to them is absolutely uproarious considering that they

are equally self-righteous and spiteful women who despise each other, and yet they are

sisters. Te cinematography takes a likewise comical approach, showing us what a novella

set is like; scene changes with replaced characters, and propped-up walls. Te closing

scene gives us a real view into the mind of the servant daughter, who feels entitled and

unappreciated, when she pulls a gun on the rich woman. All in all this novella ends with

truths revealed and hierarchy balanced.

Critique

by Christopher Labora and Jennifer Mendez

Phil Collins, Still from “Soy Mi Madre”, from the exhibition “Te Reach of Realism at MOCA.

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siblings all of which she adores. She has an identical twin sister. She said “me and

her just don’t get along.” She is aggravated constantly by her many sisters, her

twin in particular.

She did Ballet before becoming a football player. Although she hated it, she did

ballet because it allowed her to spend time with her mother, something she has

difficulty doing to this day because her mother is a full-time nurse.

Diversity runs in St. Louis’s family. Her grandmother is from Panama, a

Central American country. Also her uncle is from Granada, a country located in the

Caribbean. St. Louis finds it difficult sometimes to understand her uncle. She can

understand Creole quite well as her mother is Haitian.

St. Louis’s plans for the future, other than playing football, are to become a sur-

geon, lawyer or a police detective. “Other people look up to you,” St. Louis said.

She wishes to lead not follow.

She would like to meet Ellen Degeneres, a talk show host who is also a comedian.

St. Louis is amazed by her antics and likes her personality. Oprah Winfrey and

Barack Obama are a few of her idols. Along with Lil Wayne and Young Jeezy, both

famous hip-hop artists.

St. Louis practices with local football teams and is able to see her mother a few

times a week.

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THE

DIGITAL

FRONTIERBy : Makana. Levy

Grade Level: 9th

Doctors Charter School

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The Internet has a power like no

other. With such a power, good or

bad, can be done at extreme levels.

“The digital frontier has given society a wealth

of resources to share knowledge,” Leigh Goessl

said, according to www.helium.com.

This knowledge is the main ingredient in the

Internet’s fuel. Online, web-surfers, are able to

learn, provide and share information. They decide

whether to use that information to help or to hurt.

“My favorite thing about the Internet is that any-

one can add information,” Eban Thomas, a com-

puter engineer, said.

Sometimes, though, people wonder if informa-

tion not meant to be shared with the world is as

private as they suggest. Crimes against this sug-

gestion are committed easily with the Internet as

a tool.

“With everything digital, we are dependent on

others to protect our information and unfortu-

nately this isn’t always reliable,” Goessl said.

Although profiles can be stolen, they can be used

to network and communicate.

“Social –networking websites are designed to al-

low members to connect and communicate with

one another,” Lauren Litwinka said, according towww.blog.hudsonhorizons.com.

Social-networking websites give people a sense

of convenience with the need to speak to friends,

meet others, advertise, and spread news. It is

fast, simple and easy.

Still, out of all good energy the Internet has to

offer, some decide to use it for their satisfaction,

no matter who gets hurt.

“It’s really a shame that there are people who are

surfing the net who seek to cause harm any way

possible,” Joseph Malek said, according to

www.helium.com.

Internet-posers, scammers, and sexual

predators are using the benefits of the In-

ternet to try to harm others.

They exist, but it is the possible victim’s

duty to protect themselves as much as they

can.

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When this monster entered my brain, I’ll never

know, but it is here to stay.

Te claustrophobic apartment opened its

foul mouth and swallowed Admus Cain whole. He sat, motionless,

in the belly of the beast, observing the fetid juice that ran down the

walls. He sat for twenty one days. A red ashing light; his voice

mail was full. He made his way over to the recorder and pressed

play, then stumbled onto the couch and waited. Te rst few

hundred messages were from Elizabeth. His mother. He wrinkled

his brow in annoyance and reached over to the recorder and pressed

delete. He erased Elizabeth over and over again.

Te next message was from Dr. Bleuler. Delete.

When he came to the nal message; his muscles tensed and

his eyes widened. Her voice resonated throughout the tiny room

he called home and shook the thin plywood walls. Tat voice—

her voice—it was talking to him. He quickly reached over to the

recorder and pressed replay.

“Admus? It’s Violet.” He soaked in the warm, languid honey

of her voice, and it dripped its way down as the message played onloop.

“Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you! Where the

hell are you? It’s like you dropped o the face of the Earth! God,

Admus! I thought you were healthy again. Just call

me back when you… when you get this.”

He listened to her voice for a long

while before drowning in her honey

and forcing himself to move into

the furthest corner of the room, thekitchen. It was empty, just the way he

liked it. Te cabinets and a sink and

a stack of dishes were piled together

haphazardly, alone in their culinary

pursuits. Kitchens had always been

too loud for Admus. Refrigerators

were romance novel-addicted idiots,

microwaves never tired of informing

the world on the complicated politicsof their insides, and he hated all food

because food never really said anything

he wanted to hear. However, Admus

always had a thing for listening to

by India Huff

Admus Cainand God

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MOCA ZINE 2010

*

* * * *

animals, chiey domesticated ones.

Lucifer, his pet chicken of six years, was

the most interesting person Admus had ever

listened to. He had listen to animals, and

even plants, ever since he entered junior high

school. Admus could still remember his rst

conversational encounter with a creature.

His name was Goliath, ironically he was a

gerbil. Goliath had begged Admus to kill the

neighbor’s cat. Admus refused, but deeply

regretted it when the cat ate Goliath one

week later.

Chicken feed was the only food

that was allowed in the kitchen

because it rarely spoke, except for

the occasional hiccup, which amused

Admus. He reached into a cabi-

net and poured out two bowls of

feed, one for Lucifer,

and one for himself.Both were consumed

quickly and without

anything else.

Admus

reached for his

medicine out

of habit,

a small orange bottle in the uppermost shelf

beside the sink. It read: Zyprexa, consumed

orally with every meal, for treatment of

adulthood schizophrenia. Violet’s smooth

voice echoed throughout his brain again.

(“You know what I think? I think you

shouldn’t make your mouth swallow some-

thing it can’t even pronounce. It just isn’t

right, you know?”)

Admus tested this. “Zeeeee uh preeeee

sha? Is that it?” He couldn’t be sure, since

he hadn’t been taking the prescription for

a few weeks now, his tongue had forgotten

how to curl around the word. o taunt

Lucifer, Admus asked, “Hey, how do you

pronounce it? Zuuuuu pruuuuu sheeee—”

Te chicken cut him o coldly, cocking

his head to one side.

I believe you are aware of how I feel about Zyprexa, Admus.

“Come on, don’t be mad at me, Lucy!

I stopped taking the Zeeeeeee preeeeeeee

shayyyyy.”

For now.

“Forever! Uh, for forever? For forever

and forever.” Admus laughed at the words

tangling in his mouth.

How do I know? “I can prove it to you!”

How?

Admus was at a loss. “Let’s go

outside. I’m tired of this place.” He

stared meaningfully at the sink, who

blushed.

Tey were already down the stairs

of the emergency exit behind his

apartment complex, the cold January air biting at his bare arms and legs,

Lucifer tucked in the nook of Admus’

elbow. Admus had thrown out all of

his winter clothes, because Lucifer had

“I stopped taking theZeeeeeee preeeeeeee shayyyyy.”

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told him to. Even if he didn’t understand

why Lucifer told him to do it, he knew it was right,

partly because of the army of ants whom had told him so, andpartly because the chicken gave him the companionship he’d

always craved—unobtrusive and inhuman.

“Where we headed?”

Destination: Washington Square , Lucifer commanded.

Admus walked, then ran.

As they approached, he winced. Even on a Tursday night in

January, Washington Park was always full of people and their

noises. He had never been fond of these

types of humans, even when he’d been medi-cated, and now, after weeks of solitude, their

mind pollution was giving him a headache.

When they reached Hangman’s Elm,

Lucifer clucked violently. Tere—across the

rows of gossiping, crotchety old roses, was a

bleached blond head of hair that seemed to

glow in the midst of the dissonance. André.

Lucifer stabbed at Admus’ hand. André! An-

dré! Both owner and pet enjoyed spendingtime with the eccentric insomniac.

André’s slender frame was planted rmly

to the wet grass. His eyes danced wildly in

their sockets, dodging from left to right.

His ngers tapped rudiments on top of the

garbage bin he was standing behind. André

was a coke end, but he was also the only

human Admus seemed to be able to tolerate.

Tey had met in middle school, both in their

school’s extremely under-populated Remedial

program (only two students, in fact), and

both with a knack for being left out. It was

the formula for a quick friendship.

Admus made his way over to André’s

luminous gure. André spotted him.

“Hey, hey! My Adbrother, and Lucy

Goosey. Long time no see! What brings you

to the jungle?” He stuck his hand out, wait-

ing for the customary knuckle-brush. None

came, and the hand was withdrawn, André

undaunted.

“Lucifer said.”

“Lucifer said.”

André nodded. “alking to the chicken

again? O your meds then, eh?”

“Tat, I am.”

“Why’d you stop takin’ em? Not that I’m

against it. Let the mind roam free!”

“I was tired of being alone, you know?”

André nodded again. Even though he

wasn’t a schizophrenic, he understood. Tat

was the plus side of being friends with a dope

end.

A pause.

“So, Admiral. Where’s that babe you

used to go around with?”

Violet? Admus tried to evoke an im-

age. What had happened to her? He tried

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to conjure up anything,

realizing there was absolutely

nothing only when Lucifer started

to cluck impatiently.

“I don’t remember.”

“My Adman, that don’t matter! You know I say, a girl you can’t remember is a girl worth

forgetting!”

“I guess so.”

“Yeeeeahhh, so anyway, you’ll never guess

what went down yesterday.

Remember that punk Joey? Well, he…”

André’s voice trailed o, as Admus was now

focused on the ock of night pigeons that

ew overhead. Pigeons, especially the onesthat came out after dark, were as wise as they

were tough from living in the city. Admus

closed his eyes to hear

them better, thing

he’d done since the diagnosis. Lucifer rolled

his beady black eyes as if incredulous at the

fact that Admus could nd interest in the

pseudo-sage pigeons, but made no other

move to stop him.

ILLUSION IS THE DUST THE DEVIL

THROWS IN THE EYES OF THE FOOLISH.

Admus pondered their proverb for a

while, but his interest waned as his headache

waxed. He opened his eyes and glanced

over at André, who was speaking to himself

at this point. Violet’s voice trickled into his

veins, “Admus” she called out from behind

his frontal lobe. Admus then looked down

at Lucifer, whose small eyes pierced his own.

Lucifer spoke in his typical warbling, high

Admus, I’m sure you can at least recall my

feelings towards Violet.

“I know. But, you don’t understand—”

Lucifer interrupted him. Don’t.

Lucifer had felt bitter towards the girl

ever since she’d made a mindless commentregarding him, the pet chicken. (“Why do

you insist on keeping that creature? He’s so

lthy. And do you have to talk to him? Are

you crazy, or something?”)

Tough Admus knew that Violet could

be pompous, she was also wonderful. But

the one axiom he knew above all others was

that it was better not to challenge Lucifer, so

he dropped the subject.His brain had started to rattle in his

head, like a single marble in a glass jar, and

all he wanted to do was loosen up. His focus

returned to André, who was now picking

through the Big Mac wrappers and old cloth-

ing inside his former drum.

“Hey, how about a party? I don’t feel too

good.”

André stopped looking for a midnight

snack, and turned to Admus. “You? Party?”

He burst out in to ovine laughter. Admus,

the king of the socially stunted, was not the

typical partier.

“Not that sort of party.” Admus knew

that André could whip up the right concoc-

tion to relieve him of his headache.

André’s smile widened, revealing weath-

ered teeth. “Alright! Let’s go, Adbro!”

“Lucifer started to cluck impatiently”

“I don’t remember...”

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rolls with your sugar? Go big or go

home, my Adman.”

“Okay.” Admus pondered. “I pick big.”He was handed the desired dosage. Tey

were silent. He devoured them. Te relief for

his anticipation as to what was to come was

almost immediate:

trails of light from the swinging bulb

wrapped their arms around him and

squeezed; the numbers on the clock rear-

ranged themselves, performing a numeri-

cal ballet (it was, apparently, midnightagain).

Ten, billions more

people entered the

apartment. Where

Te three left the park, and soon ar-

rived at a seedy looking building. A dull

sign pulsed l’Hôtel Heureuse. Heeeeee uhh

rooooo eeeeeezz? Mick decided the building

was inedible.

André darted inside, patting the goose

bumps on his arms. Admus, on the other

hand, was numb to both cold and pain, and

took his time entering the building, but

Lucifer was freezing, and for his sake Admus

followed André inside. André waved them

over and put his index nger over his dry

lips, motioning for silence. Admus didn’t

understand why, for the crusty lobby was full

of noise. He looked around but saw noth-

ing. He walked over to the nearest wall and

pressed his icy ear against the aking oral

wallpaper. Te noise increased about twenty

decibels… cockroaches were atrocious crea-

tures. Nothing to listen to; just noise. He

lost interest and followed André up the stairs.

One ight became six, and they were in front

of room six sixty one.Tey walked in cautiously.

André locked the door behind them, and

turned on the solitary light, a bulb which

hung undulating overhead. Its sharp yellow

rays muted by the shadows of countless ies.

Te walls were bare, with the exception of a

lonesome clock. It was nearing two in the

morning.

“Whose place is this, André?”“Ours, for the night.”

André made himself comfortable in the

middle of the room. Admus put Lucifer

down and joined him.

“What’s your poison?” André was no

longer smiling.

Admus looked over to Lucifer for advice.

He always did, when there was an important

decision to be made.Lysergic Acid Diethylamide. ell that oaf

to be generous.

“I’ll have some sugar. Lots of sugar.”

“And would you like a side of ootsie

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MOCA ZINE 2010

were they coming from? Te corner of

the room’s oor caved in, and Admus could

see the storey below. More people crawledout from the crater. Teir doe eyes burn

holes in the crumbling walls. Butting their

antlers, they yelled. Tey were yelling at him.

Yelling at André. Yelling at Lucifer. People

were out to get him. Tey always were.

“Come on. Make them leave. Go, go, go.”

André didn’t question Admus, then again,

he seldom did. Nothing happened, and the

deer people kept coming. A few more capsules, and the

entire ceiling was collapsing

down into showers of

liquid mercury

that splattered deep into the sky. Cock-

roaches fell from the new-formed clouds,

and they poured from cracks in the walls.

Tey covered every inch of the oor and a

violently spasming Admus. André began to

contort; shiny black holes replaced his once

electric eyes, and a hard black shell seeped

into existence from his pores.

Black is the absence of the reection of

light , observed Lucifer, calmly picking o

cockroaches from his lustrous white feathers

in the midst of the chaos.

“Help me, Lucifer! Lucifer!” Admus

was crying, and the cockroaches drank his

tears. “Help me, Lucifer, please!”

What do you want me to do?

“Make it stop make it stop make it stop

oh Violet oh Lucy make it stop!” Admus

was curled up into a small ball now, crush-

ing cockroaches in the folds of his stomach.

Why don’t you just get up and… leave?

Admus parted his lips again with an an-

swer ready, but the cockroaches beneath histongue ate it. He stared up at an ethereal

reection in the face of the dancing clock.

Mary Magdalene looked back, wagging a

sinister nger. His eyelids grew heavy and

locked themselves shut, but the key was

back in Washington Park. Lucifer marched

over to his side and began to peck on his

trembling carcass, searching for chicken-

feed. Te street savvy night pigeons, thecockroaches, Goliath the gerbil, the house-

cat that killed him, they all appeared in the

corners and joined Lucifer in the raiding of

Admus’ pockets.

When this monster entered my brain, I’ll

never know, but it is here to stay. How does

one cure himself? I can’t stop it, the mon-

ster goes on, and hurts me as well as society. Maybe you can stop him. I can’t.

- Dennis Rader

High School Student

Award Winning Short Story

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Rachel Zaretsky

Watercolor and Colored Pencil on paper.

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MOCA ZINE 2010

YOUNGARTISTS

PROFILESA SELECTION OF WORKBY SOUTH FLORIDA

STUDENT ARTISTSCURATED BY MOCAZINE STUDENT EDITORS

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Faced with a culture so deeply rooted in its own twisted ideals and expectations of the productivity of women

and of the natural world, I strive for sanity and reconciliation within myself and for others. I am hoping to

present through my work, what I believe is wrong with the way we view nourishment and feminine roles(personas) in the context of age. I do this in a way that considers the domestic home as the modern stage

for socialization and our stray from natural order, that began when humans shifted from a hunter gatherer

society, into an agricultural society. At this point in history, women were removed from their long held place

at the intellectual and powerful height of society and rather, they were now to be machines, placed in the

modernly dened “home” where they would serve, passively, as producers of labor. Bounty, that which has

been held at such high esteem, the woman’s ultimate power, now her original oppressor. I seem to subcon-

sciously draw from the imagery of mandala-like, deity gures throughout history as a way of working o the

very attraction to things that I have learned the human maintains. I present image they will be drawn to, but

under closer inspection, nd to be slightly disturbing, unnatural, lamenting, and strangely, tightly contained,and exposed.

Featured Artist:

Lucia SanchezNew World School of the Arts

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New World School of the Arts

Like most young women, I nd it natural to indulge in moments of secret van-

ity. Yet I nd that girls my age are afraid to be honest with their true features

and traits- whether they be good or bad. Instead of suppressing the natural urge

to explore myself, I decided to create self portraits that exploit my vanity. In do-

ing so, I am able to honestly express myself in a way that subtly pokes fun at my

ego but also confronts vanity in an approachable and slightly satirical manner.

Featured Artist:

1 6 ” x 2 0 ” , M i x e d - M e d i a

AUDREY GAIR

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MOCA ZINE 2010

1 0 ” x 1 2 ” , M

i x e d - M e d i a

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Design and Architecture Senior HighAZura Wannman

Sometimes I can stay in bed for hours, my eyes

still blurry with sleep, but my windows are full

of day and the walls open wide.

Weaving between the foggy blur between sleep and

consciousness, I dream of a small boat in a gray sea,

with nothing but a thin white horizon blurring into

the pale of the sky. Tere are two passengers in this

boat, and they have never been lonely. Tey are not

hungry. Tey are not tired. Tey are as awake as the

water. Tere are no birthdays to remember or forget.

Te liminal spaces throughout which we drift create

a context informed by the objective and subjective,

the perceived and the imagined. Te signicance

attached to an experience dictates how our identi-

ties are reected and, in turn, how our identities

translate our awareness. Awareness parades around

in costume and in camouage; mild spectators look

on and strangers pass by. I try to see things, little by

little, as they are, as realities as dependent on feeling

as on fact, existing within both realms as malleable

truths.

I wish to wake up on one of those mornings, soggy

not with rain but with light, and experience lifeunclouded by superuous words, stray glances, di-

rectionless steps, purposeless thoughts. All I seek

is a truth I will be able to carry and a philosophy

that will not destroy my life’s integrity but feed its

growth. o step out of bed, where notions of life and

death are implicit, and to bead day after day onto

a string of pearls where each pearl is as radiant as

its sister.

Featured Artist:

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MOCA ZINE 2010

I want to hear stories. I want to question their con-

text, to re-imagine each happening within the con-

text on my own memories, to shift meanings until

they bleed together. I want friends and strangers to

share their childhoods, to exchange the signicance

of toys recovered from tired old boxes with one an-

other, for them all to cry that the others can’t feel

what they have felt, can’t be where they have been,

can’t grasp the meaning of that quiet summer or that

day in the forest where they discussed the things that

meant nothing to anyone else.

I believe in ghosts, the kinds which are manifested

in the everyday, which appear in the form of memo-

ries, distortions, impressions of past on present. Te

ghost is an unrecognized consequence, a revelation

of time, the sentiment found along with an old pho-

to, the guilt of losing one’s innocence to rationality

and complexities, relationships, the weight of self-

su ciency, decay despite preservation,

the way one’s stomach feels when one leaves home,

the elusive synesthesia experienced only in a dream,

a faint glitter in a preserved animal’s eye, the death

of a tree, the lump in the throat that prevents stories

from being told, the luxury of the continuance of

tradition, the relics of the attic, the old wallpaper

soon to be replaced, a loose tie between scattered

ideas, the nostalgia that feeds as a ghost ower upon

memory. Te awareness of the present, indivisible

from the impressions of the past.

I am for an art which supplements living instead of

rejecting it; art capable of providing an environment

ideal for self-realization and growth rather than self-

destruction; art that can be applied to understand-

ing instead of rewording questions; art that yields

conditions for both the denition of ego and its dis-

solution, while still rooted in the reality of life.

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Questioning the boundaries of what is and is not “animal” while making the connections

between humans and what we refer to as animals creates the foundation of both Shewolf

3D and Shewolf 2D. Whether or not people have evolved past being considered animals

alludes to the sculpture Capitoline Wolf , depicting two young children sucking from the

teats of a wolf. eats serve as a common thread between humans and animals in Shewolf

3D where similarities between animals and humans, such as teats/breasts are brought to

the attention of the viewer. Showing the contrast of what is and is not animal through the

blurring of person and wolf is depicted in both Shewolf 2D and 3D.

Shewolf 2D; acrylic paint, charcoal on paper; 24” x 38”

Daniel YoungNew World School of the Arts

Featured Artist:

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MOCA ZINE 2010

Featured Artist:

Christopher Labora is, contrary to popular belief, not an artist, however he does

attend DASH with his fellow MOCA’ZINE conspirators and is focusing on graphic

design classes. Originally introduced to the ne art world via grati his art work still

holds true to the loose and quick marks portrayed by street art.

Christopher LaboraDesign and Architecture Senior High

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Featured Artist:

Jennifer Mendez

Jennifer Mendez is a morbidly comical graphic design student at Design and Architecture

Senior High. Her artwork, although stark, is composed of many layers which juxtapose topics

of domestication and indierence between the major role players, like housewives or cherished

pets.

Design and Architecture Senior High

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MOCA ZINE 2010

Featured Artist:

rachel zaretskyDesign and Architecture Senior High

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PERSPECTIVESelectionS from mocA'S yeAr long photogrAphy clASSeS.

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MOCA ZINE 2010

Robert Lopez Zuniga

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Alyssa Panaganiban

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MOCA ZINE 2010

Elizabeth Newberry

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Kayla Delacerda

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MOCA ZINE 2010

Katerina Resek

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Render: Images from MOCA’s year long Drawing Classes.

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MOCA ZINE 2010

exhibition shots.

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MOCA ZINE 2010

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WOTR!Since its inception in 2004, Women on the Rise! (WOTR!) has

served over 1,400 at-risk girls ages 12-18 through its series of

workshops on contemporary women artists who deal with issues of

body image, identity and female empowerment in their work, ad-

dressing issues of self esteem and positive choices. Experienced

artists trained by MOCA educators conduct sessions with girls who

attend alternative schools, rehabilitation centers or are part of the juvenile justice system. Contact [email protected]

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MOCA ZINE 2010

check us out on facebook.

www.facebook.com/artforce

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Young Bohemians nightA moca teen art force event

Students in MOCA’s courtyard.

MOCA Junior Docent, Christian Dougnac explaining his peice of art.

Toad Eyes performing at Young Bohemians Night.

Teens from all over Miami-Dade and

Broward Counties took part in the muse-

um’s rst-ever Young Bohemians Night.

Conceived by MOCA’s high school Junior

Docents, this showcase for artful teens

and creative thinkers featured outstand-ing performances by students from New

World School of the Arts, LaSalle High

School, North Miami Senior High and Dr.

Michael Krop Senior High as well an exhi-

bition curated by the Junior Docents fea-

turing paintings, pastels and drawings,

ceramics and photography. At the end

of the evening, the band Toad Eyes was

voted Audience Favorite and awarded aHoly Explorer guitar donated by Gibson

and a scholarship to Live Modern School

of Music’s summer program.

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MOCA ZINE 2010

Virginia De Las Pozas

performing with her guitar.

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MOCA ZINE 2010

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