Special Showcase with Arrowhead Union High School: Part Three- Vincent Van Gogh

The Ekphrastic Review is pleased as punch to present ekphrastic work from Arrowhead Union High School. Teachers Elizabeth Jorgensen and Terri Carnell love to engage their writing students with ekphrastic lessons and exercises, and we have the very difficult task of choosing a few selections and publishing them.

There were five artworks. Today is part one of five parts, with selections corresponding to each painting.

To all of the students who participated: we applaud your creativity and your courage. You wrote your hearts out! You all took risks, contemplating and interpreting a famous work of art, being brave enough to interpret it in your own way. You let the art inspire your imagination in new ways. 

It was an extremely difficult task choosing a few from many for each of the artworks. Congratulations  to each and every one of you on your words. We hope this taste of ekphrasis opens for a you a lifetime in relationship to visual art and literature. 
​

Cafe Terrace at Night, by Vincent Van Gogh (Netherlands) 1888

Halves

Is it too much to want two things at once?
Is it too much to want the sun and the stars,
and the shadows and deep sky?
Is it too much to crave a golden warmth and 
also a woven blue safety net?

I attempt to paint the romance I feel in the air.
The golden candlelight contrasts with the fluorescent starlight.
The painting turns muted as it reaches the bottom of the canvas.
That’s where I sit, alone and cold from the same breeze
that fills the awnings over the restaurants.

I paint the people that stroll down the street,
some holding hands, some gazing at the stars.
I step back from my painting, admiring the contrast
of colors and emotions. I have portrayed 
the feeling of loneliness and warmth. Gold and blue.

​Hayley Indermuehle

**


Fearing the Cold, Embracing the Warmth

The gritty feeling of cold cobblestone scraped against my face.
The air felt even cooler when on the ground.
I didn’t know if I could stand up.
I lay, bound to the frozen ground.
I needed warmth I so lacked.
I couldn’t stand the cold.
My muscles tightened up.
My body tensed.
Shivering up.
Cold.

Until.

Warmth.
Heating up.
My body relaxed.
My muscles protracted back.
I felt the welcoming warmth.
I feared the lingering frozen air.
I never wanted to leave this warmth.
I got up, sat down in a chair.
The air felt warm and smelled of coffee beans.
The welcoming feeling of the cafe left joy on my face.

Andrew W. Epstein

**

​One Empty Chair
 
Two glasses of water, two menus, and two chairs.
One impatient waiter, and as of now, only me.
The light breeze flowing through the alley messes my nice hair.
 
But I am not worried.  I am happy.  My heart beats in my ears as
I think to myself.  What if she truly is the one?
I tense my clammy hands under the table.
 
After 13 sips of water, I check the time.  It is 6:30. Maybe she’s just late.
I sit, waiting in my nice shoes, best button-down shirt, 
and the bow tie my dad gave me when I graduated.
 
The smile I saw in the mirror while getting dressed had since faded.
The waiter once again approaches the table and asks,
“Are you still waiting on someone?”
 
I respond, “No, I don’t think so, sorry.”
I take the napkin off my lap and stand up from the table.
I walk away from the patio and into the night.
 
I gaze up and observe the pairs of stars dancing together
with bliss and radiance, and think,
Why is it so hard for me?
 
Kyle McNeil
 
**

Hometown

I’ve lived in a nearby town almost as magical as France.
Shooting stars shine through the midnight sky, while people dance to 90s band music.
Every weekend families shopped at small businesses and grabbed a cup of coffee at my shop.
Every weekend parents wandered the enchanted eggshell town.
Every weekend this town was filled with optimism yellow,
but now it’s empty and ebony.
What happened to our world? 
Now, there are 0 orders.
Now, there are beige empty cups lying around town.
Now, there is a ghost town for whom happiness and laughter filled the air.
Where is everyone?
Why is everything so divergent? 
What changed?
Well…
Covid caused everything to feel black…
No more dancing, food trucks, beer gardens, or wine tasting.
However;
the shimmering stars shining within the sapphire sky..
create a town of hope.

Rachel Druckrey

**

A New Orleans’ Night 

Warm, breezy air fills the summer night, 
the beautiful baby blue sky disappears into the night  
Luminescent lanterns float up high to cast light up the sky
As I walk down the rocky cobblestone path 

Tiana’s Palace glows in the New Orleans, night 
Trumpet, trombone, and tuba fill the silence with rhythmic blues 
Seating crowds atop the burnished brown deck 
Laughter and happiness grows louder towards the entrance 

The restaurant’s packed to celebrate opening night
Marmalade orange glows the room   
Lily pad green tablecloth drapes over the table 
Fresh gumbo and airy beignets lie in front of each person 
Everyone’s contentment brings the restaurant to life
 
Lauren Fernandez

​**

The Lights Tell the Story

The street lights light up the warm summer night.
Laughter and joyous emotions fill the street air.
You see people laughing and smiling from 
restaurant to restaurant and store to store.

Atlanta, Georgia: Sports bar to sports bar.
The Braves stadium is filled with excited fans.
The loud music and good vibes filled the stadium.
During the player introductions, a loud chant roared from the fans.
“Acuna! Acuna! Acuna!” Fans shout.
The game wasn’t in their favor, but the streets are still booming.
The lights make it possible to see the happy fans all walking in the street.

Nashville, Tennessee: Broadway Street is filled with music.
The open window bars are on top of each other.
It was like I was looking at a mosh pit of concerts all happening at once.
The cowboy boots and hats were all I could see on people.
The lights tell me a story about the love of music.

Cincinnati, Ohio: The orange and black lights lit up the buildings
as the Bengals play in the AFC Championship.
The fans all chant, “Who Dey!”  hoping that their 
hometown team can make it to the Super Bowl.
The diehard fans showed me how much they love their city and won’t back down.

Each city has its own story and they all tell it in different ways.
Whether it’s like the music in Nashville, the diehard Bengals fans in Cincinnati,
or the optimistic Braves fans, every one of them is unique to themselves with just their city lights.

Joshua Gilroy

**

Cafe Terrace at Night

Christmas Eve all alone. 
Again. 
No family to come home to.
No love to fill the air. 
This is the third year in a row
where I venture the holidays by my lonesome. 

The restaurant I approach has few people
yet filled with loneliness accompanying the seats. 
Shadows cast along the empty seats
longing for someone to sit there.
It is a beautiful night,
the stars twinkle like early morning dew,
and the sky is a midnight blue that
reflects a sunset orange with the city lights. 
The cobblestone streets seem to go on forever
with the bumpy, rugged texture making my feet wobble underneath me. 

I look up above.
They always say to wish upon a star.
Well I wish to not spend another Christmas alone.
I turn around and hear someone approach me.
“Hi.”
Maybe I have hope for next year. 

Rachel Kleinhans

​**

Nowhere But Home Found in Cafe Terrace at Night

I roam the streets like a stray cat.
No ending destination, 
nowhere to go.

In the vast dark blue sky, 
twinkles of yellow shine light to the somewhat empty streets.
Home and store lights illuminate the spots of darkness left.

As the day comes to an end, everyone starts to go to bed.
Stores begin to close for the night;
except Cafe Terrace.

They smell of vanilla warmth and cinnamon comfort,
at any time of night or day, Cafe Terrace radiates light to the whole street.
Bring a smile to anyone's face that steps inside.

It's always calm even when its busy
And as I walk around I always get a smile.
This is very different from how I am treated on the streets.

A nice lady always serves me
In the same seat I am always in.
She is sweet like a pastry and has the kindest heart.

I enjoy my meal in peace.
People sometimes stare 
but I don’t mind.

After I am done, the nice lady comes back to clean up my dishes.
I wonder what her name is?
I wonder where she lives?
I wonder if she would let me go home with her?

As she walks away, so do I.
I make my way back into the street,
The dark, cold, and gloomy streets.

I roam the streets because I am a stray cat.
No ending destination, 
Nowhere to go.
Looking for a home.

Emma Nettesheim

​**

Champagne Face

Love is in the air, two lovers entangled.
Over some warm Italian ‘za.

The lights create an enchanted mood.
The cobblestone streets describe the history.
The starry night watches over the population.

The flavors fill the night air with emotion.
Glasses clink as conversation sparks.
It’s as romantic as watching the sunset.

Soon, It will be over just like that.
Familiar faces, back to strangers.

Burke Phillips

**

The Cafe

​The cafe, with its vibrant and lively atmosphere, is bustling with activity. The warm glow of the streetlights flood onto the cobblestone street, inviting pedestrians to step inside. As I entered, the hum of conversations and clinking of glasses filled the air, creating a symphony of voices. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sweet scent of pastries wafted through the space. The laughter of friends, the animated gestures of lovers, and the discussions between people all blended together into a bundle of life. In the bustling crowd, I found myself engaging with people around me. The barista's friendly smile, the polite nods from strangers, and the infectious laughter with the people around me helped me enjoy every moment in this vibrant cafe.

I stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, as the limit of space got to my head. Even outside the cafe was warm and welcoming, almost as if it was a trap. The place from the outside is drawing people into a cafe that can't fit anymore people, like a venus fly trap. Looking around I decided this was the place to be. I started scanning for tables outside; it was much more open out here, more space, more air, and more comfort. I settle on a corner table on the cobblestone street barely stretching its legs onto the wooden patio. I sat down and decided to wait for my friend's arrival, as I was already many minutes early.

The smell of pastries wafted through the air as the symphony of voices slowly turned into a bundle of whispers, as my focus turned to a painter standing outside the cafe. He almost looked like a beggar with the raggy clothes he had on and the look of he hadn't bathed in a couple weeks. But the more I looked, I realized that he was a painter. A man no larger than 5’ 8'' stood many feet away from the cafe, peering at his canvas then the cafe, alternating back and forth. He had red hair, green eyes and an angular face, no smile was shown but you could see his smile through his frown. You could tell this is what he was made to do, like he's done it a million times, like he enjoys every second of it. The thought of going up and talking to him quickly faded away as I could tell he was in a trance. Not losing his focus or eye contact on his canvas or cafe, this would explain the clothes and the look of dirt on his face. My attention slowly faded away from him as my friend neared the table. 

He complimented me on the choice of cafe, and that the food smelled amazing, as we both got up and decided to get some coffee and pastries. After squeezing out of the cafe, we sat at the same table I chose before, as the conversation started to blossom. Like gasoline added to fire, the words kept spewing out, creating this art piece of conversation. But sooner than we expected. We gathered out final statements and gifted each other goodbye as we both left the table. Then turning into my own direction, I spotted that painter again. Feeling much more social I decided to approach him, as I neared his glare never lost sight of the canvas or the cafe. So I decided to walk behind him to see how the painting looked. “Wow. That looks incredible, what's your name, son?” I asked excitedly.

The painter didn't even spare a glance as he muttered “Vincent. Vincent Van Gogh.”

Connor Lestina

​**

The City

a deeper look into Cafe Terrace at Night, by Vincent Van Gogh

The city is quiet, though, not quiet enough.
It’s evening, the starved people gather in the city to eat. 
       They’ve waited all day for this.
A sapphire lit sky, dancing with orbs of light as the city grows
colder.
       The city starts to sleep as the night creeps in.
Though, the streets remain alert. Swirling colours, entrancing smells.
       The people are alive. 
Prancing through the alleys, hopeless romantics dance as though the sun shined.
As the cool breeze commences, the shutters of the sleeping people crash against their walls.
The city never stays asleep.
For there are still things to do, places to see, people to meet. The sun shouldn’t dictate that.
It is nighttime in the city, yet, the people are alive. ​

Emma Fingleton

**

Light in the Tunnel

The stars shine through the city like fireworks as families smile and enjoy the food as the night dwindles away. As laughter runs through the homes, the smell of fresh brewed coffee fills the air. The joining of personalities brings the town together as night falls through the small town. As people walk, happiness fills the streets from smiles to elderly couples having the time of their lives. The character of the rock streets to the cafe that brings people together. The cafe has been a staple entry to happiness and peace. Locals know how much this special small town means to them, and new travelers see the special bond that everyone in town has. 

Windows are normally for privacy, but within the town they are used for company.The windows being left open as a sense of openness towards everyone in the town has brought a town of ruin to a place that is stronger than anywhere else. From being a town that hated everyone with killings and recklessness. Strength was brought to the town when people saw love within each other.  They light up the city and  a sense of comfort to the streets. From talking over the streets from house to house, to singing and bringing song to a town that is a compass of happiness.

Locals get asked, “Why is everyone so happy?” 

They respond with, “ The openness and love that we have for each other has brought light to a community that once was in shambles.”

 Being able to see for miles because of the windows always open has been a gateway to the streets being alive and truly a place of purity. The cafe has been a location that has done many things for the locals. Waking up a mile away and the smell of fresh bagels flows through the streets and into the open windows of sleepers. 

Light… “How is the city so light?” From when the locals decided to bring this city alive they knew that light was needed. But not in just the happiness sense. From the windows bringing light to the streets to the cafe being open all the time. Lanterns are always lit in the evening for three consecutive hours to keep the town light. They knew people won’t just be brought together by people being nice to each other. So, they brought the sense of  light to the city by being nice, but also by physically bringing life to the streets. The joy the lanterns bring to the city has truly shaped the culture of the town to be something of joy and gratitude. 

Painted in gold, alive in richness, the cafe. The staple part of everyone's life that has ever stepped foot into this town. Being the only place not painted in black or gray, shows the importance of what it means to the locals, besides the warm fresh bagels. People always ask why the cafe is such an important spot in the city. Well…if you ask anyone who has spent time in the town they say one word. Love. The love it brings to everyone is love that no one has ever seen before. Walking in, is a walk that only people who have gone to the cafe have experienced. Described as something out of a film, a walk that is remembered for a lifetime, a walk of light. 

No one knows the true meaning of love. This city that is alive and thriving knows the true meaning of love. It is at every corner and fills the streets without hesitation. They come but they stay because the true meaning of love is in this town. Finding love and happiness is a hard task in a world full of many opinions. But, the end of the map leads to this town, which once was in ruins. 

Bryson Kneser

**

Italy

As I stepped onto the pavement, the streets felt like an old quilt, each cobblestone patch was uneven. People were talking loudly sometimes in languages that I couldn't understand. Italy was much different from the US. People were friendly and everyone smiled as we walked past. As we walked past each building I caught a waft of a different food each time. There was a restaurant along the beach that we decided to stop at to get some water.

When I walked in I noticed everything was vintage. The walls were painted in faded green and tan colour with different shapes painted on them. Near the back of the restaurant all of the walls were cobblestone and there were mirrors everywhere. The floor was an old, rough wood that seemed like you would get a sliver from just touching it. Although the restaurant didn't seem like it was in the best shape, the food still smelled good. It smelled like a mix of different pastas and pizza.

As we continued down the street we noticed a large brick building along the side of the street. It was an old church that was much taller than all the other buildings. When we walked in we noticed that everything in the church looked very ancient. There were cobwebs everywhere. The air felt still, carrying with it the scent of aged wood and history. There were red carpet mats. The quiet church was very peaceful and inviting. The stained glass windows painted colourful pictures on the floor. An old organ stood in the corner, its keys and pipes showed signs of many years. As we continued on the street a large stone water fountain statue emerged. The clear water cascading from the fountain was very soothing. Continuing down the street the lively buzz of conversation filled the air, a mix of languages that were blending seamlessly. 

The streets foreign, although had a welcoming and familiar scene to the US. As we kept walking we entered a darker alley and the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The buzz of conversation faded into an eerie silence. The narrow path was dimly lit with flickering lights casting shadows on the ground. The scent of Italian food was replaced by an unsettling aroma. I could smell the sewer. As we navigated through the alley we came across a small antique shop. The entrance was a creaky wooden door. When we entered the shop there were many different types of stones. The air inside carried a musty scent of aged paper. There was stone in every colour and size you could imagine. Some of the stones were covered in diamond or were cut open and had purple crystals inside. They were very expensive. The most expensive one that I saw was a brown stone with blue crystals inside. It was around $5000. 

We then left and went down to the beach by the seaside. It was starting to get late. The sun dipped low on the horizon and the day turned into an evening. There were still many people out. Kids were still yelling and playing. Colourful beach towels and shoes were spread along the shoreline. As I walked along the beach the sand felt cool beneath my feet. The sound of waves crashing along the shore was soothing. The sky transformed into a canvas of bright oranges, pinks, and purples. Seagulls flew overhead creating shadows on the ground. As the sun started to set  we decided to call it a day. By the time we left we were one of the few families left on the beach.

Noah Kane

​**

A Winter Break

The star-filled abyss, lights up the night sky like a spotlight. I feel the cold breeze brush across my face with a shiver sent down my spine. Buildings line my left and right as my family and I walk through the Steamboat, Colorado, Ski town. Chatter fills the air as we pass restaurants and bars. Keeping an orange glow from heaters lined on the patios. The crunching of snow under our feet as we strut down the streets. In search of a place to relieve our hunger after the green excitement of the day of snowboarding, we find our target. 

A small German restaurant tucked away by a ski shop. Dad barging through the doors, I follow closely behind feeling a warm gust of heat releasing the shivers that had developed. 

“Good evening everybody! Follow me to your table,” the waitress insisted as we picked up our feet again making our way to the table. “Here are your menus. Is there anything I can get for you to drink right away?” 

I responded with the quickest answer I could muster, “ Water will do.” 

“Sounds good! I’ll be right back with your drinks,” the waitress stated as she turned around and started to make her way back to the kitchen. I sat there waiting for my water, clenching the menu in my grips immediately in search of what I was going to eat.

Not having any idea of what to get for German food, I turned to my dad, “What is the best option to go with here?” I asked in all seriousness, my hunger devouring me from the inside out. 

“Go with the pork schnitzel and spaetzle. It is a very popular German dish.” Taking my Dad’s word for it, I set the menu down with a yellow expression ready to order. Legs bouncing up and down off the ground anxiously waiting for the food – I had barely eaten anything throughout the day – I was more than ready to enjoy a German dish. 

Clink! Clink! Clink! Clink! Each glass slid on the table to the designated person. Ecstatic, I grabbed my glass of water, finishing half of it before the waitress could even leave. My dad picked up his pint of beer matching his burly shoulders and overgrown beard. The froth from the beer sitting upon his mustache – a white coat of snow. My mom and sister were too busy in a conversation to even realize a drink was in front of them.

Looking around the restaurant provided an experience in which I was able to feel more of a German culture - something I have never been exposed to before. German signs and posters stapled to the walls added more immersion in the restaurant. The smell of foods from other tables flooded my nose making my stomach churn. These new smells put me in excitement to try my food. So I sit patiently waiting for a new exposure to food.

I spot the waiter with the big pizza-like tray with all of our food on it. She placed the stand by the table and set the tray on it, already reaching for my food. I was the first one to get my plate. Then my mom, my sister, and dad.

“Enjoy your meal!” The waitress exclaimed as she picked up her trey and her stand and continued to make her way back into the kitchen. I look down at my plate, steam rapidly rising from the food. I could feel my mouth salivate as I picked up my fork and knife and began to dig in. The smells from each plate at our table became overwhelming as I wanted to eat anything and everything I could. I take the first bite of the pork schnitzel leaving a taste in my mouth I’ve never tasted before, but I more than enjoyed it as I immediately went in for the next.

Before I could even look back up at my parents, I was already on to the Spaetzle. Very similar looking to mac and cheese I could tell just by looking at it that it was going to be good. I clenched the fork in my hand and shoveled my first bite of Spaetzle into my mouth. It was better than mac and cheese, not having a single regret for the choice of the meal I made. The strings of cheese dripped off each noodle as I continued to finish everything on my plate. 

I need to have this again, is all I could think about as I grabbed my coat off of the chair and began to venture out the door and back to our condo. Back down the same street we came, still filled with the green liveliness of people enjoying the winter night in Steamboat, Colorado. The heaters lining the patio with the same orange glow. The same cold breeze brushing across my face. The star-filled abyss still lighting the sky, we open the door to the condo indicating the last of our night.

Mason Hull

**

Clear Parisian Night

The sky is simply lit by the stars. The streets are quiet, with the exception of muffled voices coming from the café. The lights are dim and yellow, but the café is brightened and brought to life by the people. They are laughing, eating, and having conversations. The waiters are serving food, filling up water, and taking orders, all with a smile on their face. Only a few people remain on the streets, some are walking home and some are just beginning their evening, but everyone appears at peace on this clear Parisian night. 

There is faint music coming from the square just around the buildings, everyone seems to have someone. Everyone but Timothée. He sits alone, his back to the rest of the tables so he doesn’t have to stare at all the couples, families, and friends. So he doesn’t have to be reminded that he has none of those. Timothée moved to Paris a month ago in hopes for a fresh start, for something new. The last month he has seen amazing things, done amazing things, and met amazing people, yet none of them stayed in his life for more than a day. Timothée works in fashion, hence why Paris was the perfect place for him to be. He met his coworkers on his second day in Paris. While they were nice, they also had a slight hint of a parisian stuck-up attitude; something a lot of French people hated about Paris. Timothée was warned about this attitude before he left Menton, France, his home for twenty years. 

Timothée sat and watched the people passing by the café for hours, every Friday since he’s been in Paris. He notices the regulars, people who seem to have it in their routine to walk the same streets at the same time every Friday. He sees the ones who are in love, the tourists here on their honeymoon or the locals who just needed a night out. He finds the most amusement in watching the Americans who don’t speak a word of French try to navigate the streets, and read the signs. Timothée has even let out a quiet chuckle a few times when the Americans ask for help, and the French act as if they don’t know any English. But it's Paris, everyone knows English. Although there have been many people Timothée has enjoyed observing for the last four Fridays, there has been only one special person he couldn’t keep his eye off of if he tried.  

He looks for her in the window of the jewelry store located right across the street from where he sits. He has decided she must work there because every Friday, at six o’clock Timothée see’s her turn off the lights and lock the door behind her. She then starts to make her way toward the square where Timothée loses sight of her, but he imagines her dancing and laughing with her friends. Her brown hair bouncing off her broad shoulders as she skips around the square in her flowy summer dress. Timothée can hear her short heels clicking on the concrete as she runs to join the dancing. He can see her brown eyes light up as they play her favorite song. As the music fades, Timothée imagines her leaving the square and heading to the bars that surround the area. Of course he doesn’t know if any of this is actually true, because Timothée is too scared to talk to her. 

As the night lingers on, Timothée contemplates taking a walk near the square. Everytime he thinks about getting another glimpse of her, he gets butterflies. Eventually, Timothée has to leave, like every Friday the café closes at eight and the workers begin clearing the tables. Unlike every Friday, Timothée decides tonight is the night, and he walks toward the square. In the square there are people dancing and drinking, just as he suspected. He scans the crowd to see if he can find her, but no luck, so he walks into the chaos. Timothée isn’t one to party, and he certainly isn’t one to dance but when he gets pulled into the crowd he finds himself in the middle of the dance floor. He frantically looks for a way out. He feels a hand on his shoulder, it was a girl but not the one he’s looking for. This girl had blonde hair and fair skin, freckles painted across her face and crystal clear blue eyes. This was the moment Timothée realized he might not be in love, just lonely. 

“Excuse-moi, monsieur, are you okay?” The girl asks.

“Oh oui merci, I am just looking for a way out,” he replies with a shaky voice.

“Why would you want to leave? The night is so young.” Her eyes really were beautiful; Timothée got lost in them as her gaze met his. 

“I don’t really like to dance, I was just looking for someone” 

“Well, I don’t believe that, everyone likes to dance.” 

That's when the girl took Timothées’ hand and they danced. He was awkward at first, but eventually he let the music guide him. In that moment Timothée forgot about his job, his lonely life in Paris, the café he sits at every Friday, even the girl from the jewelry store. The only thing he could think about was how he didn’t feel so lonely anymore. 

Megan Hughes