Student Ekphrases: Chief Nakapankam, Mungo Martin- Arrowhead Union High School and KM Global School for Global Leadership and Innovation

Partnering with Lorette C. Luzajic, the founding editor of The Ekphrastic Review, Elizabeth Jorgensen and Terri Carnell’s students have explored curated selections of artwork chosen by Luzajic each semester for the last two years. 

Elizabeth Jorgensen teaches at KM Global School for Global Leadership and Innovation, a charter school within the Kettle Moraine School District in Wales, Wisconsin. Her students’ journey began with Equestrian Oba and Attendants, a piece created by the Edo people of Nigeria between 1550 and 1680. Students immersed themselves in the history of the Benin Bronzes through various resources, including news articles, documentaries, maps, and primary source artifacts. To meet an argumentative writing target, students crafted well-reasoned arguments to support their claims and deepen their understanding of the artwork.

Terri Carnell teaches at Arrowhead Union High School in Hartland, Wisconsin, where her advanced composition students studied Equestrian Oba and Attendants, Composition by Fikret Mualla (Turkey, before 1967), Pingvellir by Þórarinn Þorláksson (Iceland, 1900), and Raven and Whale by Chief Nakapankam, Mungo Martin (Canada, 1960). Inspired by the artwork, students crafted short stories, poems, essays, vignettes, diary entries, and letters.

To select pieces for publication, students analyzed each others’ writing. They examined words and phrases, exploring their technical, connotative, and figurative meanings, and considered how specific word choices influenced meaning and tone. 

Both teachers are grateful for this collaboration which has provided their students with a unique opportunity to engage with art, refine their analytical skills, and express their creativity. Working with Lorette has not only enriched their students' learning experiences, but also broadened their global perspectives, fostering a meaningful connection with art, writing, and critical thinking.

Terri Carnell and Elizabeth Jorgensen ​

Raven and Whale, by Chief Nakapankam, Mungo Martin (Canada) 1960

 
Useless Creatures 
 
Greed
seizes the back of Pride.
Wrath
shouts, threatening
Envy
to take the tattered tail of Greed and stop this bothersome bird.
Sloth
sits atop of Greed’s green eyes, uselessly watching the battle that is ensuing.
Gluttony
stares from the empty stomach of Pride, praying that this bird becomes his next meal.
Lust
the smallest of the sins, gazes from behind the eye of Envy, silently whispering lewd thoughts.
Pride
smiles, hiding the sharp, blinding pain he feels in his back. 
 
Seven deadly sins
useless until the end of time. 
 
Elizabeth Kolp
 
**
Untitled 
 
“Phssssshhhh” was the noise of the water that spurted out of my mouth into the sky above me. 
 
Tail said to me, “What are you doing?”
 
“I am trying to get this raven to put us down,” I replied with a determined tone in my voice. 
 
We had been flying for two days without rest; Tail, Face, and I were all very tired. 
 
We were grabbed out of our ocean off the coast of present day Vancouver Island by an abnormally large raven. The raven’s name is Qu?uÅ¡in (pronounced Qu-ushin); he is the ruler of all birds in the Nuu-chah-nulth (Nootka) land (present day British Columbia, Canada).
 
After a third day of flying––our dorsal fins browned with the scabs from the blood drawn by the raven’s claws––we finally landed. We were resting atop The Spearhead in present day Whistler, BC. The Spearhead is 8,061 feet from sea level. 
 
Then, the raven spoke to us. “Kakaw̓in (Cu-Cu-Win) you have been chosen by my good friend Mink—č̓aastimc and I to help bring life to this area.”
 
“How so?” 
 
“In a time long after all of us are gone, the mountain we are atop now will overlook a village known to them as Whistler. Men will come from all over the world to ride the slopes of the mountains you see in front of you and they will be known as Whistler Mountain and Blackcomb Mountain.”
 
“So why are we here?”
 
“You are here to be the sacred guardian of the area.” Then, the raven flapped his wings and was gone. 
 
Over the following hundred years, we sat atop the mountain watching the land. 
 
One day, there was a pack of wolves who came through the valley below us. We watched as they chased a bear cub; they saw it as a potential threat. 
 
The cub was all alone; we had to do something. To the left of where we sat was a basin of water. In a split second decision, Tail decided to hurl himself against the side. Water came gushing out. It picked up rocks as it rushed down the side of the mountain. 
 
The wolves saw the water and were immediately scared away. The cub ran to a grove of trees and hid from the water. 
 
Once the water settled over the mountain, the air began to chill. The frozen water had somehow spread throughout the area covering the two other mountains. It made a thick layer of ice over the surrounding land. 
 
As time progressed, Tail, Face, and I had no source of water and no food, but we did have a sense of calm. We knew we had done something. 
 
A gust of wind blew and we were picked up and carried into the sky. Then, we spread out into millions of tiny white pieces, and we fell down to the large ice sheet. We were the first flurry of snow to come down on the land. 
 
Ryder Setter
 
**
 
The Battle of the Raven and the Whale
 
I think this symbolizes two Native American tribes going to battle. The whale represents a tribe near water (Mohave) and the raven represents a tribe in open space (Menominee), like in the middle of a field maybe. They battle and become one tribe and the faces can represent the chiefs or important people within the tribes. 
 
A long time ago, two tribes, the Mohave and the Menominee, lived near each other but often fought. One year, they both needed water from the same river, and a big fight started. The Mohave were quick and great with bows, while the Menominee were strong and smart in the forest. They battled hard, but after a while, they started noticing how talented the other tribe was. They began to wonder why they were even fighting.
 
On the fifth day of the battle, a huge storm came. Rain poured and lightning struck. The leaders of the tribes, Kano of the Mohave and Ralo of the Menominee, met in the middle of the battlefield. They decided that nature was showing them how there is enough for everyone and that fighting was wrong. Instead, they agreed to work together and became one tribe, called the Menoave.
 
When they joined as one, they shared their skills. The Mohave taught the Menominee how to live near the water, and the Menominee showed the Mohave how to survive in the forest. Together, they became stronger and lived in peace. Their story was told to children for years to show that working together is better than fighting. The Menoave became a happy and strong tribe.
 
Natalie Lietzau
 
**
 
Oh Mister - Raven and Whale
 
Oh, Mr. Raven, how I wish I were you. With the sky stretching endlessly ahead, your wings carry you wherever the wind may take you, free from the weight of anything underneath. But here I am, my body heavy, my world ridden with plastic, the ocean now pressing against me like a cage. What would it be like to soar without blue-bound limits, to leave behind the depths and the everlasting dark? To not be a whale.
 
Oh, Mr. Whale, what wonders you must have seen. You move through the vast, uncharted blue, weightless, and unchained, while I am still bound to a world filled with smog and steel. The ocean is a refuge untouched by the choking air above, a place where life moves with rhythm rather than resistance. I long for that silence, a world not riddled with unfamiliar noise; that space to breathe without the heaviness of poisoned air in my lungs. To not be a raven.
 
Oh, Mr. Human, look what you’ve done. You have turned our rivers into bottomless graveyards covered in filth, and our sky into a shadow of what once was and could have been if you weren’t so selfish. You have divided, polluted, consumed—left nothing untouched by your dirty hands. And now, the damage is done, Mr. Human. We cannot fly. We cannot swim. And soon, neither will you. Yet, you still stand here complicit, watching as the world slowly collapses in on itself. But the earth, the sky, the sea—we will remember, how could we forget? One day, we will divulge your secrets, revealing every act you thought could be forgotten.
 
Ethan Gomolla
 
**

The Illusion of Control

Sometimes, those who appear to be in charge are nothing more than puppets, their strings pulled by an unseen force. They wear the mask of authority, but behind them lurks the true master, the one who truly dictates the flow of power. You can’t always trust what you see. Those who seem small and insignificant might be the ones controlling everything from the shadows.

The mastermind perches above his puppet—claws digging deep into his back, his beak twisted into something that almost resembles laughter. He enjoys the game, knowing the puppet cannot resist, cannot fight back—not truly. The puppet, gritting his teeth, stiffens under the weight, unwilling to let the others see the truth. He must play the part, must keep up the illusion. If they ever found out who really controlled him, everything would fall apart. He must never divulge the secret.

Yet, there is someone watching. Sitting in the darkness, unseen but present. Their faces are empty, emotionless, and observant. Slowly, the darkness shifts, revealing a faint outline—an eerie face emerging from the void. A follower? A believer? A disciple? They linger behind the puppet, seeking guidance, seeking strength. They do not realize they are seeking it from the wrong one.

The puppet senses them and panics. He must not let them see his weakness. He struggles against the claws of his master, feigning resistance, blowing weakly at the one who truly holds the power. It is a performance, an illusion for those who watch. He pretends to be in control, pretends to fight, but in reality, he knows—he has always known—he is powerless.

Above him, the mastermind’s grip tightens, his amusement growing. His eyes gleam with delight at the absurdity of it all. The puppet believes he is fooling the watchers, but he, too, is blind. The blind leads the blind, and those who follow do so without question. They are complicit with their false leader. Their eyes are empty, hollow as the night sky. They watch in silence, believing they are witnessing leadership, never realizing they are simply watching a performance, a carefully crafted illusion of power.

And so, the cycle continues. The mastermind laughs. The puppet struggles. The followers watch. None of them aware of the truth.

Sofia McGinley
 
**
 
Origins Far Restored

An ancient tradition transformed, the art of lacrosse reborn. The chiefs of some of the most prestigious tribes in North America gathered in the mountains of Canada under the guidance of their ancestors to meet with Chief Nakapankam to debate the Native American-originated sport: lacrosse. 
 
Throughout the meeting, the Chiefs discussed the transformation of lacrosse. Originally, a sacred tradition for the Iroquois tribe, now played by over one million people. At its origins, the game was played as a test of strength and skill but now is overshadowed by competition for wealth and fame. Traditional sticks were painstakingly handcrafted from hickory wood and plant fibres, now they are manufactured from metals and synthetic fibers. The balls, composed of wood and animal hide, are now made of fluorescent rubber. The Chiefs expressed their dislike of the transformation lacrosse has had from its organic and natural roots. 
 
Chief Nakapankam believed the meeting went well and set up several meetings to further debate possible reasons lacrosse has evolved far from its origins. They express they are proud that a once traditionally Native American sport has now shared its influence around the world, but they believe the sport of “lacrosse” isn’t truly lacrosse. 
 
In a calm voice, Chief Nakapankam proposed the idea: “ We shall create a league of Native American lacrosse players. They will play the game in its natural state. Wooden sticks, balls and protective gear made of animal hide, and no strict rules of shot clocks or penalty calls. The game will be played to bring pride to our ancestors of the Iroquois tribe. We will play for each other. No competition for fame and wealth. Just pride for your tribe.”
​
From the meetings under the Canadian air, the Native American Lacrosse Association—NALA was born. The league would consist of 14 teams each representing different tribes. The equipment used would be only the Earth’s gifts and nothing else. Players would feel the Earth beneath their feet, the cool wind on their faces, and the pride their ancestors had in them. 
 
NALA would represent the past of lacrosse while bringing its ancient traditions into the future. NALA would be represented by the Raven and the Whale—the balance of the land and sea. The raven symbolizes generosity, uniqueness, and adaptability while the whale represents strength and peace. Together these two live in harmony, just as Native Americans do with their lands. 
 
NALA restored the love of lacrosse at its purest form for generations to come in the Native American community. Everyone, adults and children alike, began to fall in love with the feel of the smooth hickory wood stick in their hand forming grooves in the stick from its constant use. 
 
As the first games of NALA were played under the towering Canadian mountains, the sound of cheers, wooden sticks clashing, and pride from the ancestors above filled the air. The traditions of Native American lacrosse were restored and, with it, a new league of lacrosse was born.
 
Gabrielle Haas