Cadence Grandell (age 14)

Colorado, U.S.

Every living thing needs water to survive. The water supply doesn't just come out of nowhere, it is recycled and goes through the cycle again and again. The Earthrise photograph inspired me because it gave humanity a different point of view of the Earth. My photograph is a different view of water.

Especially in this time, people need to know that we are all connected. We may all come from different backgrounds, but we all need water to survive. To take this photo at North Clear Creek Falls in Southern Colorado, I lined up my phone with binoculars to get a good close up on the waterfall. Sometimes you need to look at something from a different perspective to see how beautiful it really is.

Ella Andersen (age 14)

California, U.S.

Artifacts in our everyday lives connect those we love and bring us together. I photographed "My Friend Flicka" by Mary O'Hara. This book was given to my great-grandfather, Victor, and it was given to him by his late sister Gloria in 1943. This copy was published in 1941, making it 79 years old. It sat on my papa's shelf above his bed for many years and now it sits on mine. The book has been passed down for two generations and I hope to continue this trend. This book is very special to me and my family. It shows us an aspect of my papa's family that we didn't know; he and Gloria had a great love for the country and horses. Gloria wrote to him the following words on the first page of this book: "To Vic, with the hope that one day his wish to own a horse will come true. May it be soon." These words from Gloria were one of the last things she said to my papa. Though my papa has passed, this book will forever remain significant in my life. It contains joyful memories and hope. One day, I hope to pass this very special book down to another generation.

Xiaolong Zhao (age 19)

Baotou, Mongolia

The objects in the picture are called the Four Treasures of the Study. They are brushes, inkstones, paperweights, and Xuan paper. On the right of the photograph, one brush is made of wolf hair and the other is made of wool. They have different nib hardnesses because they have different functions. On the top of the picture is the inkstone decorated by a carved dragon and a Chinese scroll, which symbolizes majesty. The inkstone is a special stone, and its function is to hold the ink stick that will be ground and mixed with water to make liquid ink, which will be transferred to the right container. On the left of the picture are two paperweights, and the pattern on them is bamboo from the Three Friends of Winter. These two heavier stones are responsible for keeping the paper flat. In the middle is Xuan paper, a specially crafted calligraphy paper. The word written on the paper is 福（blessing)—this Chinese character symbolizes peace and happiness. My mother and I like to use these tools to practice calligraphy. In the picture, I am writing calligraphy. My mother taught me calligraphy when I was very young. For my family, calligraphy not only represents a skill; it also cultivates one's mind and temperament. Because of my studies, I do not have time to study calligraphy systematically. Whenever I have free time, I always like to open the window and let the sunshine and breeze sprinkle onto the desk in the warm afternoon air. I like to feel the roughness of the ink particles and the smoothness of the Xuan paper, and forget all the worries in life to make my artwork.

I have always been curious about the evolution of other scripts, such as the ancient Greek alphabet, Egyptian hieroglyphs, cuneiform, and Indus Scripts. Unfortunately, these scripts and their cultures have all fallen into the long river of history. These characters are like mysterious codes waiting for humans to crack. There is only a little connection between them and the modern scripts, and their vitality is like a flame from a burned out candle. At this time, I feel the greatness of Chinese characters more and more. This is the only living ancient writing system with its own unique writing methods and instruments. I feel very fortunate that my culture is not locked away in a museum. It is in the homes of ordinary Chinese people who love and are still writing calligraphy, a part of the Chinese culture. Whenever I hold a brush, I feel I am connected to history. Whether it is ancient poetry or novels, ancient military orders or edicts, they were all written with the tools in my hand and the characters I use. How romantic is this! It's like passing the Olympic flame. Every Chinese dynasty, every Chinese emperor, and every ordinary person will pass the Chinese culture from generation to generation. The fire of the times burns traces of the old dynasty, but they cannot burn away all the traces of culture. This is not only a miracle for the Chinese people but also a miracle for humanity. Today, Chinese traditional culture has met with modern development. Calligraphy has a new life, and people don't need to commemorate it because it still exists.

Gemma Rossi (age 14)

California, U.S.

For Italians, pasta is a crucial part of daily life. Not only is it a staple of the Italian diet, but the craft of making pasta is passed down from generation to generation. From a pile of flour and an egg, traditional Italian women knead the dough with their hands into the tagliatelle con raggù that my father grew up eating every day in his home on the Adriatic coast. The artifact is not the pasta, but what is used to make the pasta. A tagliere (tale-YAY-ray), a large wooden board, is the surface on which pasta dough is kneaded and rolled out with a mattarello (Mat-TA-rel-lo), or rolling pin. Kept in every Italian family’s household, they are either used daily for traditional pasta or used for making pasta on special occasions. Our tagliere and mattarello are not passed down relics. They were a wedding gift made by Luciano Drudi, the old woodworker who lived across the street from my father’s childhood home in Borella. I will now inherit the tagliere and mattarello so I can make pasta just like my babbo taught me. The pasta will then be eaten by family and friends and will disappear as the night goes on. Italians end the night with liquirizia and gelato. Who doesn’t feel the connection created by good food?

Ian Rosenzweig (age 14)

Pennsylvania, U.S.

My artifact is an extremely important piece of my family’s history in America and a representation of the values we hold closely. It is a book entitled Seder Avodah for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. This translates from Hebrew to “Order of Service for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.” Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the Jewish New Year and Jewish Day of Repentance. They are the two most important holidays of the Jewish year and are referred to as the High Holy Days. This specific prayer book was passed down to my mother from her parents. It was written in 1960 by Rabbi Max D. Klein of Adath Jeshurun Synagogue (known as AJ), which was in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It is now in Elkins Park, Pennsylvania. Congregants brought the book with them to the services.

Today, most synagogues provide prayer books. The book belonged to my great-grandmother, Bella Zemble. AJ was the congregation my great-grandparents’ belonged to. Their three sons (including my grandfather) had their Bar Mitzvahs (Jewish Right of Passage ceremonies) there, my mother had her Bat Mitzvah there, and my parents were married there. AJ is a strong piece of our family’s history. Using this book was a joyous aspect of the difficult holiday services we endured in the pandemic environment. It allowed us to pray and participate in our service without squinting at the computer screen for hours on end, and it helped us to link our heritage, which felt particularly important this year since we had to socially distance from our relatives with whom we usually celebrate the holidays. The machzor brought up memories for all of us. It made us recall past, happier High Holy Days when we were able to pray in the synagogue with our community and be with our family, which were both missing elements from the online service. My mom thought about her grandmother who passed away when she was twelve years old.

My sister and I learned about our family’s history. We knew about the importance of Adath Jeshurun to our family and that my grandparents are still congregants at AJ, but there was so much more wrapped up in that little book. We learned about what a service day looked like for our great-grandparents and grandparents. We learned about my great-grandparents' untimely deaths within a year of each other. We learned about a synagogue that held so much importance in our family’s past, including memories of all life cycle events. But most importantly, I discovered a piece of my family that was buried deeply beneath the stories of family history that I typically hear: the stories of the Holocaust and the countless family members lost and the anti-Semitism that stripped my family of equal opportunity in Europe and in America. This book initiated discussions of happier times and I learned positive stories about the continuity of this synagogue and this book within my family. I learned about my family, their synagogue and the prayer book that was issued to them 60 years ago which is used on the exact days of the Jewish calendar that I use them on, forming a connection between myself and my great-grandparents. All these connections took place through an artifact that had no monetary value, but was treasured because it signified the ability to pray and live as Jews in a free country. It not only allowed us to experience feelings that we are meant to feel on our High Holy Days, but also express feelings passed down to us through my great-grandmother’s Seder Avodah, her prayer book.

Enora Le Moal (age 16)

United Arab Emirates

We can change our perspectives to see our planet as one home by observing animals. In an ecosystem, there are thousands of organisms which rely on each other. They work together. Unfortunately, humans tend to forget about the importance of collaboration. We are so busy thinking about our own problems that we forget how important the people around us are. With global warming, pollution, and deforestation, it is time for us to work together to make this planet a home. By seeing each other as one family, we become more aware of our actions and become more careful towards our surroundings. We need to stop putting people in boxes because we are all humans in the end.

In the film Earthrise, the Earth is described as a “blue marble.” I created this image by using a telescope from Al Wathba Wetland Reserve in Abu Dhabi, or United Arab Emirates (UAE). The black color of the telescope surrounding the image represents the infinite darkness of the universe while the lake and flamingos represent our Earth. The Earth in the Earthrise photograph is also observed from afar, which is shown in my photograph through the use of a telescope. I wanted to convey that we should admire the beauty of nature instead of trying to control it and interfere.

The UAE is important to me as a European citizen. It allows me to become more open-minded by discovering new traditions, cultures, and religions. Interacting with different people has enabled me to view the world from different angles. I want the UAE to be remembered as a country that is multicultural, and which has shown that perseverance and cooperation is the best route to success. People of diverse religions, cultures, and nationalities live in the UAE. It is a country that embraces this idea of being ‘one.’ It takes in people from all around the world and it doesn’t judge them. It accepts people no matter who they are.“The Abrahamic Family House project” (where a synagogue, church, and mosque will be built in the same location in Abu Dhabi) is a perfect example of respect and harmony between people from all backgrounds, beliefs, and nationalities.

Gianna Gazulla (age 14)

California, U.S.

It is vital that we all do our part to see our planet as one home. Earth provides us with all the resources we need, but most of the time we don’t give back and do our part to help protect it. To become closer to our planet, we can appreciate it and be grateful for all of the resources we do have that help us to thrive. As humans, we can change our perspective to see the world as one home. We must recognize that we all need to help each other out to be able to live together in harmony.

The film Earthrise was quite intriguing to me because I have always liked learning about space and other planets. My photograph was taken at Yellowstone National Park. Our world right now is trying to find new technologies to rebuild from all the damage we have done. I would like to be a part of that rebuilding and help to reconstruct the homes of animals that are being swept away by pollution.

Suhayl Wright (age 18)

New Jersey, U.S.

Marz Landon (age 17)

New Mexico, U.S.

This music box belonged to my great-grandmother, Elizabeth Baker Lamm, in the early 1900s. She always kept it on her dresser, no matter where she lived, as a precious keepsake. She was born in Dillon, Montana, in 1915 and was the oldest of five siblings. When she turned five, her family moved to Portland, Oregon. As the eldest, she took care of her siblings while her mother went out. She graduated high school in 1933 as the valedictorian and was offered a full scholarship to the prestigious Reed College. However, it was the height of the Depression. She turned down the opportunity to attend college and instead found a job to help support her parents and siblings. She held two jobs throughout the Depression. She got married, and her husband left her in 1940 when she was eight months pregnant! Forced to move back home again, she worked long hours as the first female manager at the big department store in Portland. She found a second job as a receptionist for a medical clinic on Saturdays.

In 1945, a man came in complaining of a headache. He fell in love with her and hired her to run the finances of his business. His business became successful in the post World War II economy. They worked together twelve hours a day, six days a week, for close to forty years. Little did they know they would be married in 1952. Their finances were tight, so we know my great-grandmother would not have been able to afford the music box on her own. It is unknown who gave it to her, but it was likely her husband for an anniversary gift. She treasured the music box as one of her most prized possessions. The music box still works, though it is rusty and a little out of tune. After winding it up a few times, it slowly plays the music that she used to love and appreciate so much. While listening to it, my mother and grandmother have memories of her smell, laugh, and smile. They often tell me about how she could light up a room. Admired for her selfless attitude towards life, she worked hard and persevered. I aspire to be like her—to work hard and be kind wherever I go.

Kilian Schoenenberger (age 18)

Burgdorf, Switzerland

Generations

After the passing of my Grandmother and Grandfather this year, I decided to document what they had left behind, the spaces they used to live in, and their environment. One image of the series particularly stood out because of its symbolic depth and connection to me, my family, time, and the essence of life.

In this image, there are printed portraits of family relatives propped up on an antique piece of furniture in my Grandmother’s old living room. She used to light the candle in the front left corner in memory of the people she had lost. The large clock is deeply ingrained in my childhood memories. I remember the times when my Grandmother and I would excitedly wait for the hour to strike.

She, Rosmarie, had lived in this small apartment for decades along with the large pendulum clock ticking away the time of her life, her husband's life, and the people she knew. For a long time, she wasn’t among the ones who had passed away, but now her photo fits in this category. In her picture (in the middle) which she had placed there by herself, she’s holding the next generation, her great-grandson. To the left is her beloved and lifetime partner and husband, and her son, who had passed away before she died from severe cancer. To the right are her sister and husband again. As one of her relatives, I can be seen reflected in the pendulum. My time is ticking as well. And so, the cycle continues. With this photograph, I hoped to portray how we are all connected in families, in life, and in death. This place will stay in my memory as a place of peace, happiness, openness, and love. View more of Kilian's work on his website.

Gianna Leung (age 16)

Mississauga, Canada

While I was looking for an artifact to photograph, I realized the immense sacrifice my immigrant parents gave to start a life here in Canada. This small clay teapot has always been an important part of the home. Growing up, I would often watch my parents brew tea after dinner and talk for hours about everything from the cooking time of ginseng soup to a close friend’s funeral in their home country they could not attend. I wondered why it was always accompanied by tea.

This small teapot was the only connection that remained for them as a reminder of their home. It gave them a reason to converse in the comfort of each other and allowed them to stay rooted in the foundation of their culture, even as their children forgot their mother tongue. In the Chinese tradition, the youngest family member serves elders. Often, the interactions that are possible between parents and children become limited as the world continues to evolve. This photograph conveys the idea that despite the development of technology and assimilation to another culture, families remain connected through small interactions made possible from objects of the past. Artifacts are a physical manifestation of the stories of our roots and are symbols we can see, hold, and experience for ourselves.

Mayarae Taylor M (age 17)

Colorado, U.S.

Our hearts beat one and the same.

The will of tranquility is finite and still.
You can hear the sounds of energy flowing through the quiet silence.
Despondency has made its way into the lungs of so many, but not you.
You hear the notes playing a song of reverence.
Among the roar of inferno, there is something speaking to you softly.
You bind from root to feet, becoming something greater than what’s around you.
A blueprint of serenity, all by looking at the small things.
You blossom and bud alongside the entity of life.
It tells you of all that has been lost, but also all that is yet to gain.
Warmth becomes you. You become the future.

Eternity is only ever what comes next.

You listen.

Zoya Hussain (age 17)

Canada

“Do we treat the earth as if ki is our relative—as if the earth were animated by being—with reciprocity and reverence, or as stuff that we may treat with or without respect, as we choose?" — Robin Wall Kimmerer

This illustration depicts how humans and nature are connected in many ways; we find peace in nature, yet we continue to destroy it. The skyscrapers, along with the cloud and fog, bring about a dream-like appearance, showing how humans have distanced ourselves. We have our ‘head in the clouds,’ ignoring the consequences of the problems we cause. The buildings are transparent. I could give viewers a glimpse into what’s happening inside the buildings, reflecting on the theme of repression and confinement. People are realizing that they need to change their destructive habits and are trying to escape from the buildings. The buildings situated very close together add a congested and claustrophobic tone to the top half of the work, suggesting that this transition is difficult for people to achieve due to fear or selfishness. There are no landmarks, no personality, and all the buildings are uniform, which leaves this work open to interpretation as it could be any city. This decision is based on today’s digital and modernized world, while the buildings and trees symbolize what supports each way of life (human and non-human) and how we are distancing ourselves from nature. The skyscrapers act as the city’s ‘trees.’

The connection point between the road and the river represents nature trying to make a comeback amid the pandemic. While, at the same time, we are all forced indoors. This could represent how our impact on nature can end up hurting us, such as with climate change and deforestation. I also added fallen trees near where the forest and city meet, showing the deforestation and destruction humans cause to nature to make way for our new industrialized way of life. The river is considerably more fluid than the road, and is connected to the trees by their roots; this shows the isolation within crowded cities and the unity of nature in a balanced environment. In the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic, I have gained a greater appreciation for the rest of the living world. Having the opportunity to stay home and take care of my mental health took me on a journey. I began to spend more time outside, stay up to date with current events, and sign petitions to protect the environment. This thought is connected to my drawing as the people living in those transparent buildings can see everything happening, yet they choose to remain distant and disregard the consequences of taking the earth for granted. The design of the river was inspired by aerial photographs of the Amazon River, on human’s dependence on and exploitation of nature.

The living world is calling out to us, and the very essence of life flows through our veins from every breath of oxygen we take to breathing out the carbon dioxide plants need to continue the cycle. We need only listen by putting Mother Nature first for once, and our prosperity will surely follow.

Mariana Sánchez (age 17)

Mexico City, Mexico

These are my great-grandfather’s glasses. His name was Indalecio Huitrón Miranda. I remember listening to his name and imagining how lovely getting to know him must have been. I never had the chance to do so. Grandfather Indalecio, also known as “Papalecho,” had a very entrepreneurial spirit. He dedicated his life to agriculture, cultivating citrus and coffee, and herding horses. In his last years of life, he put a candy stand on the corner of the main street of Teziutlán, a small town in the state of Puebla, here in Mexico. He was a humble, generous man, who led a tough, yet beautiful life. When my father told me stories about him and how he used to live, his glasses were always in the picture. This object, being so representative of him, was passed on to my grandfather and later on, to my dad. He tells me the Mexican glasses, made out of copper, are from the 1950s, approximately 70 years old. My father keeps them on a special shelf where they are safe from falling or breaking. I decided to take this photograph because the glasses and the picture behind them bring my father great memories of his grandpa. It is always very moving for me to experience these emotional moments with him. I will want the glasses to endure for a long time so that his memory stays with my family and is not left behind. Part of the reason behind taking this photograph is that the Day of the Dead is around the corner in Mexico right now. Even though this festivity is celebrated once a year, my family and I keep my great-grandfather’s memory alive through his copper glasses.

Carina Pepene (age 16)

Brasov, Romania

My photo depicts the beauty of the painstaking work behind the creation of the traditional Romanian costume. Worn and woven by women living in the rural area, the traditional Romanian costume is more than a piece of clothing; it connects generations and hundreds of years of history. Each region of Romania has its own particularities. Transylvania (especially Bran) is known for the simplistic white and black, occasionally red, pattern on the traditional blouse, also called the “ie.” Over the ie there is a vest embroidered with colorful beads that often form floral patterns and a thick belt called “brâu.” The woman looking out of the window is my grandma, wearing a 100-year-old ie, complete with other accessories that she got from her mother as a dowry. On her lap she is holding another ie she made when she was younger. “I might have been your age,” she nostalgically told me. My grandma never had a daughter to teach the mastery behind the traditional costume; it used to be one of the most valuable lessons passed down from mother to daughter. The traditional costume reflected the social status, the region, and the event. The ie was often made during sewing bees where locals would interact with each other, turning a simple gathering into a significant social event. When making parts of the national costume, such as the ie, the brâu, and the vest, women were weaving the destinies of future generations.

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