August 7, 2022
From the artist:
“My path was simple: Follow your passion. Pour in your heart and soul. Settle for nothing less than excellence. And with enough hard work and faith in yourself, you can realise your dream.” – Robert Mondavi.
Gloria Li
Avondale College
August 6, 2022
From the artist: Piano is a big passion of mine and to see future generations enjoying my favourite instrument brings me joy. My nieces and nephews inspire me everyday as they learn new skills. And my mum is the most genuine person out there, she encourages everyone in their passions and interests.
Sophie Clark
Pukekohe High School
Scribbler
Words
make my heart pitch, tip from its ledge,
warm meals of
paper and ink and plastic dustcovers.
We’ll be lifelong friends, swear it.
Without you I am muted,
feelings decay in my throat’s
dark chute.
Try to weave words, drop stitches,
turn the chalky silence of pages
to life.
I write until streetlights blink on,
shape you to dispel shadow, let in the sunlight
regurgitate
sadness and beauty.
Friends of ink and paper,
when the story trips, cuts open
its knees
and the words I fill you with
die out,
you leave.
Writing suffuses my mind with life’s
tackle,
drips from me, open wounded.
I’ll knit a daisy chain of letters, breathe clearer.
You are timorous soldiers,
dislocated from your homes and
herded away in emails,
disfigured by rejection and glory.
I crank the dials, try to brew
magic, medicine,
till fingertips ache, go numb.
I neglect the world for the misshapen
scraps of ideas,
the inklings which leak from
my head’s crevasses.
Vowel sounds and
grammatical placeholders,
embryonic and
delicate as snapped twigs.
To breach physical definitions,
my pen is never unpoised.
The writer in me
never turns off her light,
nor lays her head on the desk.
Isabelle Lloydd
St Mary’s College, Auckland
From the author:
The poem “Scribbler” examines my relationship to writing and to language itself. It seeks to articulate the emotional bond between writer and fruit, and the fixating pull of this expressive form. The poem’s name suggests the idea that my writing is always unfinished, imperfect, for constantly I learn and change.
August 5, 2022
From the artist: This piece endows a symbolic representation of the truth of the destructive power from colonial invasions towards the people of Polynesia. I am a proud Tongan who bares the pain and suffering endured by my ancestors in their time of struggle to protect their homes. Without their pain, I wouldn’t be here today and so I am passionate about my ancestral history.
Rhythm Hemehema
Dilworth School
Born into this World
Born into this world,
Where lines segregated land
Somehow, among these lines,
I lost my place in this world,
My home was cut into two –
Half in aotearoa,
Half in China.
Chinese words used to be the cushion I fall back on
When English became too much.
But the longer I spent in Aotearoa,
Chinese morphed from a comfortable pillow,
To a foreign, dusty object sitting on a shelf,
Rusting away with time.
I had not realise that English had become my cushion
Until my first reflex to answering my parents
Was a “what” in english.
Walking around the house in barefoot,
Speaking English to my sister,
Choosing to eat at cafes instead of Chinese restaurants,
My own culture is slipping away from me with time…
… almost…
Except when my culture unravels
away from me into strings,
It never really unties entirely,
Because my parents ingrained
And tied the complicity of the Chinese culture
into my identity like a Chinese knot,
Tight but unbreakable.
My mum’s homely Chinese cooking every night
On the table after I come home from school,
That fragrance that takes me back to China,
And my dad calls in Cantonese “sek fan la”.
“Dinner’s ready”.
Erica Hu
Diocesan School for Girls
From the artist: This fantastical impressionistic landscape reflects my soul, which constantly returns to the South Island in my imagination. The seasonal changes, from left to right, express that nothing is permanent. However, this special place has a permanent hold on my heart and inspires me continuously to pursue my passions in art.
Vickie Jiang
Auckland International College
Woman. I am woman. If I admit I look quite pretty today, when the man across the street compliments me, I am arrogant. If I choose to work and stay a little later tonight, I’m a work-obsessed she-devil who doesn’t care for her family. If I attend my favourite singer’s concert and scream her name, I’m a crazy fan who doesn’t respect boundaries. If I help an eldery man with his groceries, I am a gold-digging heartless wrench.
Man. I am man. When I take off my shirt in the gym and flex my muscles in the mirror, I’m strong. When I stay late at work, I’m a driven businessman. If I vandalise public property after my footy team loses a game, I’m just a poor bloke letting off some steam. If I wink and cheekily grin at the elderly lady on the bus, she’ll laugh and call me a handsome young man. I’m passionate, and free to show it.
I cannot walk the streets alone at night. It is not god I fear, it is man. When asked why I fear men, I say I think they will rape me. They will beat me. They will kill me.
I enjoy walking alone at night; it is calming. When asked why I fear women, I say I think they will reject me. They might embarrass me infront of my friends. They might not laugh at my joke.
To men who are offended by this, please don’t be. It is not all men, but I have to assume it is if I want to be safe. The double standards that infect our society prevent me from sharing the same passions that many men have. Let me be passionate, show my heart, show my soul.
I have a lot to give.
Isla Kirkman
Western Springs College
From the author:
This is a piece of writing that I am passionate about. It is for women to relate to, and for men to learn from.
From the artist: This triptych represents my passion for introspection and compassion for others. Inspired by van Gogh’s “Boots” – something personal and psychologically honest. The shoes in my painting link my childhood and present, as I wear those shoes now to school, but I used to wear similar shoes as a child.
Skyla Law Chan
Howick College
From the artist: This artwork shows passion of farming, love of the church and soul through the cows souls going to the church in a time of death.
Grace Powley
Baradene College
From the artist:
Following one’s passion is crucial. When ignored, it creates an extensive toll on the mind. The surrounding forest animals ridicule the Man in this claymation. Distraught, he walks around, only to be shown what his heart and soul truly crave. Finally unable to ignore his passion, he succumbs.
Leilani Stannage
Lynfield College
