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NB: Information about the TER-Arrowhead collaboration follows the student works below.  Gold Octopus Frontlet, by the Moche people (Peru) 300-600 AD. Photo by Thad Zajdowicz from Pasadena, California, USA, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons A Waiting Game The watcher condemned to be locked here forever. Cursed with knowledge; And forced with the truth. Just waiting, watching, wishing for something to amount. Wanting a day to come to finally be released from this cage. But knowing that this day will never come; The watcher is forced to exile with only his thoughts to keep company. Hope is lost—forever. Always looking, always watching there is nothing not seen. Ready to reach out; Shielding the past and future with precision. Each glorious golden arm, always ready. Each arm serrated with observing eyes; Seven wonders—needing protection, So why eight arms? What do we not know? A piece of mystery, Each question jogging another; This was a piece of the past. What is its future? Camden Brittnacher ** A People’s Secret Treasure Behold–the golden octopus frontlet, a mystery crafted by the ancients. The jubilant jewels of chrysocolla clench the viewers attention with its eerie colour. The golden frontlet–delicately crafted by ancients who sought magical powers. It’s glistening, gold glamour seeks to draw your attention to its lustrous design. Ferocious teeth growl as if it were a lion trapped in a cephalopod's body–waiting to strike. Each tentacle, sharp as razor blades, waiting to puncture an unsuspecting foe. Who knows the true purpose of the frontlet? Who knows when it was created? Who knows how it was created? Behold–the mystery of the golden octopus frontlet. Luke Dongarra ** The Spread of Wealth All gold reaches eight different ways, stemming from one head. Godly power from the top, reaching out with sharp hands. We dream to be the ones grabbing onto the gold, might take us to the promised land, the land where we feel rich. The land where we reach our goals. The greed we have chasing this wealth ends with our hands in a bloody mess. The head reaches out to us but we don’t grab on, as the ends are sharp. Why don’t we share that wealth? The head reaches out with its sharp hands. Shouldn’t the hands of wealth be soft, against the rough hands of the poor? Wealth does evil. Eight different ways we could help. Reaching out like we want to, with sharp hands so they can’t grab on. A face behind it all, with all of the wealth to help. Why won’t the power give generosity? Are they just too greedy? Seth Lundberg
** Old Art It starts in the ground A metal is all Then found by a people Refined, Polished, Shaped A now piece of beauty A sign of fear and art The eight serpents The eight who created this worldly sculpture The eight serpents The eight barriers to break before entering the heart The eight serpents that revolve around their maker Lucky number eight Made of gold Beauty to outsiders A warning to neighbours A sign of power and resilience A sign of complexity and distrust The neighbours know to be wary Blue and Green The eyes The greed and ambition The authority and commitment Kept hidden from the world Until its blinders are removed Its teeth made of bone From foe and prey Its hands outstretched Hidden claws Acting as hands To those in need This masterpiece Now housed in peace and tranquility Before made by warriors A piece of history and fear Now a piece of beauty and awe Forever…Old Art Sam Michaelis ** The Octopus Bench Thalassophobia has always taken hold of me since I was a child. Even the theoretical creatures deep in the unknown like the giant Pacific octopus. They can reach 600 pounds! I encountered an octopus when I snorkeled in Mexico. It was no bigger than four feet in diameter, but I was purely petrified. Tears filled my goggles and I squirmed like a squid, dashed like a dolphin, and bolted like a barracuda into the boat. I wrapped myself in a towel and sat in the seat farthest from the entrance to the water. I threw up all over the boat deck. The captain didn’t look too happy with me. I slept in the sun until the boat returned to land. A couple of years later, the movie Finding Dory was released. It changed the way I thought about all sea creatures. Hank, the deuteragonist, is a practical character. He learned that being impractical can be okay and realism is not the only answer. Hank also had seven tentacles instead of eight, which led me to think that octopi are living, breathing animals… not just unfamiliar creatures. I knew I was overreacting when I encountered the octopus, but at the time I thought that sea creatures had every intention of hurting me. Not too long after, I went to the Georgia Aquarium in Atlanta. The smell filled my nostrils before I even got to the entrance. The fishy, slimy, and rotten smell seeped into my lungs. Each step reminded me that the farther I went into the aquarium, the harder it would be to get out. We first paid a visit to the small freshwater fish. Their habitat was a dark shade of green, it was ill-lit, and it was small compared to how many fish were housed in the specific tank. I felt awful. I could barely tell their faces were gloomy through the murky water. I swallowed my sadness and continued looking at the freshwater animals. The next exhibit my family took a visit to was the stingray petting area. I wanted nothing to do with the interactive exhibit. I curled up behind my mom in hopes of having a temporary escape. My brother pinched the back of my t-shirt and dragged me to the elevated pool where the stingrays were held. My eyes were like saucers. My hands had the same color red as my cheeks. My arms remained at my sides in terror. My brother pushed me into the line of kids with their sleeves rolled up. The brown rays trickled around the perimeter of their tank. My sleeved arm went into the water blindly. I looked away, with my eyes squinted shut. It was a roller coaster. The slimy, smooth ray swam just below my fingers. Tears barrel rolled around my cheeks. It was the scariest, yet calming experience. My feelings were scattered around the tank like stingrays. I stood around the tank with the other children with a thousand-yard stare. I was blank and emotionless. I pulled my hand out of the water and wiped it on my brother's shirt. I trudged and sat on the octopus bench near the exhibit. I sat and thought about nothing. I stared at the ceiling. My eyes caught the sign: “Estuary stingrays only sting when provoked, be kind to the animals!” It took me a few seconds to comprehend my thoughts. Underwater creatures are not monsters, they are just animals. Ever since, I have learned to accept aquatic creatures and recognize they are beautiful animals, capable of love, like any other animal. Megan Okey ** Trapped in a Treasure I gaze out of my glass jail, watching as people walk by and point at me and other artifacts in the museum. My eight gold arms blind my turquoise eyes. A grimace is permanently etched on my face. I will people to look closer at me-- so they can see that I am trapped. They can’t hear me; they think I am a treasure, but in reality, I need saving. Karly Turinske ** Editorial Note For more than a year we have been working with teachers at Arrowhead Union High School who are using ekphrasis in their writing classes, and publishing selected works by the student writers. This has been an exciting collaboration in so many ways, being part of the invitation to students to contemplate art and discover the different ways that it can show us the human experience, near and far, past, present, or personal. Choosing from the student submissions a few to publish here for our readers is a painful process. Every single entry is a success story in our book, showing a facet of the communication that happens between someone far away or in another time, and a student today, and the creativity that connection can inspire. We are profoundly impressed by that creativity, and by your curiosity and by your courage. A big congratulations to the writers whose works are shown here this time. We hope all of you will continue to explore art, writing, and ekphrasis. Our readers and writers know from experience the extraordinary blessings they will bring to your life stories. Love, The Ekphrastic Review ** A Note from Liz Jorgensen and Terri Carnell We teach creative writing and advanced composition at Arrowhead Union High School in Hartland, Wisconsin. For the past year and a half, we’ve had the pleasure of collaborating with Lorette and The Ekphrastic Review (1/12/2023, 5/26/2023, 7/10/2023, 1/5/2024). We want to express our sincerest gratitude to Lorette. Providing this authentic opportunity, she has selflessly dedicated many hours, and we are honoured and humbled to again have our students’ work showcased in TER. This year, our 236 students responded to one of the following: · The Chess Game, by Sofonisba Anguissola (Italy) 1555 · Christina’s World, by Andrew Wyeth (USA) 1948 · Gold Octopus Frontlet, by the Moche people (Peru) 300-600 AD (photo by Thad Zaidowicz) · Blue Soap Bubble, by Joseph Cornell (USA) 1950 · Three Coke Bottles, by Andy Warhol (USA) Our classrooms buzzed as our students engaged with the pieces of art, creatively expressing their own identity, values and beliefs. We were impressed with our students’ interpretations, their interdisciplinary connections, and their emotional intelligence! Through descriptive language, vivid imagery and sensory details, our students explored joy and nostalgia, contemplation or introspection. The students said they felt inspired and creative:
The study of ekphrasis encouraged each of our students to develop an appreciation for art and to see what is possible when art inspires writing. We hope you enjoy their ekphrastic pieces as much as we do.
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November 2025
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