Student Gallery

From artifacts to portraits and landscapes of the living world, explore student artwork to encourage meaningful conversations in the classroom. Learn how to use the gallery.

Use Image Analysis Activity

Gianna Gazulla (age 16)

California, U.S.

Unexpected Beauty

As quoted by Margaret Wolfe Hungerford, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” My photograph captures the unexpected beauty that exists within my community. It represents the significance of national parks in the United States and across the globe through the tangible aspects and genuine opportunities that they offer. These opportunities allow us as protectors of the earth to more fully form a personal connection with our planet—to be conscious about our actions and the impact that they have on the earth. My photograph was taken in Yosemite National Park, and though it doesn’t depict the popular imagery that many people associate with this national park, such as Half Dome or El Capitan, it symbolizes that beauty can reveal itself through lesser known, or unexpected, places.

It wasn’t easy to achieve this image, but the process reminded me that anything that is worthwhile isn’t easy—for example, protecting the Earth against climate change and environmental impacts. We have a responsibility to make sacrifices in order to call ourselves true stewards of the Earth, and during that process, we recognize the beauty that we are called to protect.

Ned Henderson (age 17)

Queens Park, Australia

Unsettling Evidence

I am fortunate enough to witness two worlds in my country: the continual game of monopoly within the urban sprawl of Sydney and the often forgotten rural hearts and souls. This macro perspective of the inevitable devastation of our bushfire season was a message to the world. Being located within the city of Sydney NSW during the 2019-2020 fire season, I noticed a disconnection between people around me and what was happening only a couple hours drive west. This alarmed me, as I was viewing updates hourly for months whilst the majority were not concerned. With many family members having to evacuate multiple times, and watching the map for fires near the family farm, it wasn’t the greatest summer. After a fire storm swept through the rural town of Bilpin NSW, I was eager to examine the results. It honestly shocked me, as you cannot prepare yourself for what you see. To think that this is just one handful of ash and one small town upon thousands.

The film Earthrise made me consider scale and perspective. We could see the fires from space and feel the ash in New Zealand, but my image considers the inverse of this by examining the slightest fragment of the big picture. It is important to acknowledge the close connection between cities and the bush and the world's interconnectedness of ecosystems.

The gesture in the image is a transactional exchange of what we have offered and what the natural world offered in return—45 million acres of flaming earth.

Andrea Trejo (age 18)

Metepec, Mexico

La nervadura de una hoja, líneas paralelas o sin rumbo que sobresalen de su piel, se encarga de circular la savia y conectar cada rincón de la planta. Mis venas, caminos sin fin alguno por los cuales circula mi sangre, desde el corazón hasta la punta de mis dedos. Tú y yo no somos tan diferentes, nos unen líneas interminables, por lo que cuando intento escucharte lo hago como si tú fueras yo, se que un rayito de sol en la mañana te da energía para seguir todo el día y que escuchar una melodía te hace bailar, lo sé porque esas cosas hacen que se acelere mi corazón y que siga fluyendo por mis venas aquello que me mantiene con vida, y así como funciono yo, lo haces tú.

La única diferencia es que yo dependo de ti, pero tú no de mi.

The leaf rib, parallel lines with no guide to follow that bulge from its skin, is in charge of circulating the sap connecting every corner of the plant. My veins, paths with no ends that fulfill their function by taking the blood from my heart to the tip of my fingers. You and I, we are not so different at all, we are connected by unending lines. When I try to listen to you, I have in mind that you are me. I know that a sunbeam every morning gives you enough energy until the day ends and that listening to music makes you dance. I know this because these things make my heartbeat go faster and keep me alive, flowing in my veins. Just the way my body works, so does yours.

Our difference is that you can live without me, but I cannot live without you.

Isabel Mendoza (age 17)

Villa Verdun, Mexico

“I hope my grandson will always know the other beings as a source of counsel and inspiration, and listen more to butterflies than to bulldozers.” — Robin Wall Kimmerer

Navillera
Flying beautifully, like a butterfly

It's an ethereal sight, a dream-like komorebi. The clean, fresh air of the forest, along with so many wings flapping and a river-like sound, fills the space. This is one of the most beautiful moments in my life in a place where dreaming and wishing were allowed. The migratory phenomenon of the Monarch butterfly is one of the most extraordinary and mind-blowing trajectories of a living organism. Every autumn, they abandon their breeding grounds in Canada and Northern U.S. for millions to arrive in Mexico, flying far away from the cold to a place where the temperature allows them to recharge energy. When the time comes, they go north once more. Getting to the north can take between three and four generations to complete. With unique abilities of direction and navigation, they only need good temperature with sunlight, water, and trees to rest on. It's us who need to make sure they go unbothered, but we have failed to do so. The number of monarchs each day is decreasing. This is caused by the disappearance of milkweeds, in which they lay their eggs, and climate change.

When I had the opportunity to visit the butterflies in Sierra Chincua, I realized the beauty of nature and how isolated the cities are. One may think the opposite, that in the middle of the forest you are in the middle of nowhere, but that's not true. When you stand in a place full of life, you are connected with yourself and accompanied by music, stories, love, dreams ,and wonder. Listening to the living world is much simpler than you think; it comes naturally if you let yourself go. It's when you are able to open your heart and mind, realizing we are not the only ones on this planet that you are finally starting to listen. You may lose yourself between hearing and listening. To find the difference, you need to learn about the world and its organisms. You don't have to be an expert—just treat it carefully. This planet gives us the warmth of a mother and the embrace and protection we need. If she always carries us on her back, and we don't start using our legs, she will get tired and we will both fall. If we choose to listen to our destruction instead of her stories, there will be no more future for her other daughters and sons...for our daughters and sons.

Abigail Getty (age 17)

Illinois, U.S.

“Living beings are referred to as subjects, never as objects, and personhood is extended to all who breathe and some who don’t. I greet the silent boulder people with the same respect as I do the talkative chickadees,” writes Robin Wall Kimmerer. What happens when the world falls silent? When all falls still? Before this pandemic, we bustled and hustled through life, never looking further than our own field of vision we defined as our world. Our heads were in our phones, our gazes to the ground, untouched by life’s worst. The minute we were yanked from the routine comfort, and into the face of danger, we lost it. Each of us has become numb, terrified, scared, and more awake.

There are the trees to whisper secrets to and the water to awaken your memories, the birds to sing you awake, the frogs to sing you to sleep, the breeze to tickle your face during the day, and the fire to brighten your face in the dark of night. As humanity became isolated, we learned to cherish these things, some we may have never known. These are the fruits of life and they give themselves to us. Humankind has to remember its place in this shared beauty of the world.

Grace Bonk (age 17)

Wisconsin, U.S.

My family and I were visiting the Upper Peninsula of Michigan earlier this year. My dad went to college in Houghton and my mom's family is from there, so it is a very special place for our family. In the moment captured in the picture, my dad, my little brother, and I were walking across the frozen parts of Lake Superior. From the shore, my mom was calling out to us to be careful, and my brother and I were chuckling off her warnings. We were filled with adrenaline with the possibility of the ice breaking and in awe of the beauty around us. This photograph represents the fragility of Earth's climate. Humans walk along the thin ice that is the Earth's climate—fully aware of their actions and the risk they bring—just to see how far they can push before the ice breaks for good.

Lily West (age 16)

Maine, U.S.

Do you feel all the fish swimming to the surface?

"Do you feel all the fish swimming to the surface?" is a part of a small series of pieces about the beauty of and the destruction of the environment. As I learned more about the environment, I started to focus on whales and sea creatures. The ancient nature of whales is so clear in their size, the way their migratory patterns and song patterns work in communication with one another. There is something about the wisdom and knowledge of the oceans that these animals possess that would be lost if they were to go extinct, or their numbers were to drop greatly.

People have such little understanding of the ocean, which is why the whale's tail is all that is revealed. We do not, and simply cannot, know the waters to the same depth that they do. Also in the piece, there is a hawksbill turtle below the whale's tail. The beautiful pattern and colors on the back of hawksbill turtles inspired me to choose them as a species. Both of these animals have a history of endangerment. Humpback whales have made a major comeback since 1950 when their numbers dropped to 440. The current population is now around 120,000 to 150,000. In contrast, however, the hawksbill sea turtle is listed as critically endangered. They are in danger due to people hunting for their beautiful shells, among the other threats they face. The red lines are up for interpretation, but in my view, they show how much understanding of the oceans these creatures carry within them, and what it would mean for this to be lost. The beauty and wisdom of such animals are something that must not be destroyed.

Ellie Lint (age 18)

Montana, U.S.

Reciprocity is embodied by the idea that we must learn to give back to the world we take so much from. When we encounter nature every day, we take advantage of it instead of realizing all that Mother Earth gives us. On a cloudy day in May of 2020, an osprey carrying a massive trout landed on a tree branch right in front of my bedroom window. I slowly and carefully crept across my lawn up towards the base of the tree until I finally got the shot I was waiting for. In any other normal year, I would be in a concrete building sitting through a class, but Covid had put me into online school. Although Covid has taken a lot from me, I would have never had the chance to take one of the best pictures I've ever taken.

Shelly Fatal (age 17)

New York, U.S.

I sought to illustrate the interconnectedness of humanity and nature by composing the human body as if it were a landscape. By highlighting organic abstract forms, I hoped to express a love story between the inner and outer worlds—how they are mirrored in each other and intertwined. By monumentalizing this organ, I hope to communicate how the outside world is not so different from the smaller ecosystems within us, and how we rely on both systems' unity to survive.

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.

Dylan Mong (age 16)

California, U.S.

My artwork is a “love story” to the planet showcasing the vulnerability and hope we all have. Four eggs in a tiny nest symbolizes a new hope for life. The mother bird laid these eggs at this location due to the lack of human activity around this site. I’d like my artwork to communicate freedom and excitement to the world. The anticipation for the pandemic to be over is represented with the goal of raising new life.

Gabe Marusic (age 17)

Ohio, U.S.

Bought and Sold

Reciprocity is a two way road, and yet we have treated our Earth like a one-way highway, one in which we take everything without giving back. During the Covid-19 pandemic, I began to go on more walks as I found being in nature one of the best ways to escape from the hustle and bustle of the world. On one of these walks I found this sign and felt a strange irony in finding it in a forested area and decided to capture the emotion I felt behind it. In my photo, Bought and Sold, I try to capture the idea of how people often find they have the right to buy and sell nature to other people. I find that the harsh black and white film I used captures the raw emotion behind the ideas of this photo, as well as the natural sunset lighting that was used. The sign reads “sale pending,” implying the sale has not even happened yet, and yet the land is still being reserved rather than enjoyed by people. If we as people want to remain on this planet, maintaining a true relationship of reciprocity with the Earth is essential. When we just take from the Earth and never give back, we slowly kill the Earth. I found the following quote from Kimmerer especially relevant, “Birds, bugs, and berries are spoken of with the same respectful grammar as humans are.” It relates to the idea of nature and humans all being interconnected as one rather than being the two separate entities we paint them as. People tend to cut up and sell this planet we all share, but this is not our job. It was simply one we convinced ourselves we had.

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.

Melody Zhang (age 15)

New York, U.S.

The wind threads itself through the trees, whispering a song. Infinitely many songs join it: the sound of dripping water (melting ice), the crunching beneath your boots and your friend’s, a branch crackles, something moves in the bushes, two birds chirp and four crows join it, a car drives by but you’re moving away from it, taking the side path as it slopes down; at some point, you realize, the world around you is a stream. A stream of sounds, tastes, smells, colors, feelings.

A song that is noise and all. The earth sings a song that is a want, a need, a memory. The song is ephemeral.

Without thinking too much, you steadily step your way across the ice. It freezes in the winter, the mass of water becoming a field becoming a plate becoming a place. Here, the earth stops singing; the above and below of the lake is quiet, the pure white of the snow sitting on the surface undisturbed like a pearl—or an eye without a pupil.

It is looking; looking at nothing.

You know not what it had looked like years before, or decades earlier. You are confident that no one can know everything; knowledge comes in hundreds of people who all know too little until one being is formed from trillions of facts. You are one of these facts, your friend another, the unseeing eye the last.

The earth’s song starts up again: now, the wind scratches against your ears. It screams freely over the empty lake, no trees or mountains to divert it, not until you stand in the center of the lake and become a lightning rod. At the epicenter, the wind is so strong that it nearly knocks you over. It goes so fast that it rushes into your ears and SHOUTS,

and in that moment,
you realize:

The earth was never singing.
It was simply crying.

A need, a want, a memory.

Your friend begins to walk further. You blend in, but you are out of place. Without you at the center, there was no one to cry to (a want): just seventy miles of wind measuring a lake frozen in time, running circles around nothing (a need).

You stand still in the cries, raising your camera with reddened hands, your breath coming out like clouds. The shutter clicks; the shore on the other side sinks into blue, the white looking blindly at the gray sky, the whole thing empty except for one of the two people that heard.

(A memory.)

Mercer Weis (age 17)

California, U.S.

San Francisco, one of California's largest and busiest cities, is home to one of the most extraordinary landmarks in history: The Golden Gate Bridge. The Golden Gate Bridge, standing at a height of a staggering 227 meters and spanning 1.7 miles across the beautiful San Francisco Bay, connects the big city of San Francisco and the mountainous Marin County. For almost ninety years, the Golden Gate Bridge has offered the public a convenient, effective, and trustworthy form of transportation. After surviving a massive earthquake and human gridlock, the bridge still stands as one of the world’s largest bridges. Thousands of construction workers and materials built the bridge. One construction piece, the rivet, played a small but vital part in the formation and development of the Golden Gate Bridge. The artifact I have photographed is one of the 600,000 rivets installed in the Golden Gate Bridge when it was first built.

I am lucky enough to have a personal connection with the famous Golden Gate Bridge. My great-grandfather, Edwin Fraser, served as a President on the Golden Gate Bridge Board. He represented Del Norte County on a Board of forty-two other presidents. Before his appearance on the Board of Presidents, my great-grandfather was elected by the majority in his district to represent them in this stunning feat of bridge building. On January 23, 1929, my great-grandfather, along with the other presidents and top bridge engineer firms in the country, met for the first time to draft their management plans for the next four years. My great-grandfather voted on the bridge act, a three-cent tax paid by taxpayers, and many other provisions proposed by geologists, engineers, and fellow board members. The Golden Gate Bridge Board of Directors and Presidents earned a $35 million grant to build the Golden Gate Bridge. After four years of hard and challenging work, the first day of construction for the Golden Gate Bridge finally came on January 5, 1933. During the next four years, my great-grandfather collaborated with his fellow members to set goals for his workers to create the Golden Gate Bridge.

Finally, on May 27, 1937, the Golden Gate Bridge opened to the public. As a token of my great-grandfather’s success, he was given a small red rivet, a replica of the ones used in the Golden Great Bridge, to take home. This artifact has made its way down to me, his great-grandson. I have the honor of keeping this meaningful artifact with my immediate family, and hopefully, will pass it down to the next generation. Although this rivet itself is not a part of the Golden Gate Bridge, it represents the bridge’s purpose. The rivet is a symbol of a bridge that provides transportation to 112,000 vehicles and 27,000 tourists a day. The rivets themselves make up the bridge’s skeleton, one of the most critical structures in the bridge. The rivet embodies the innovative nature of the bridge and its technological breakthroughs at the time. Without these rivets, people would not have a convenient form of transportation today in a city bustling with traffic. It brings people together in one grand location to look out onto the San Francisco Bay. The message behind this rivet expresses the true purpose of an artifact. It is a symbol of one of our greatest achievements for the well-being of mankind.

Gianna Gazulla (age 16)

California, U.S.

Unexpected Beauty

Grace Bonk (age 17)

Wisconsin, U.S.

Dylan Mong (age 16)

California, U.S.

Ned Henderson (age 17)

Queens Park, Australia

Unsettling Evidence

The gesture in the image is a transactional exchange of what we have offered and what the natural world offered in return—45 million acres of flaming earth.