"Phoenix from the Ash" started because of a basketball I had lying around. That basketball and I played outside on the hoop every day for years, yet hadn't been picked up in a long time. I had played up to my freshman year of high school and lost my love for the sport. The coaches did not care who I was and what I was dealing with, and pushed me past my limits. In the end, I left angry and hurt. I wanted to show my emotions, but knew I needed time to heal and grow. A couple months later, I still wanted to be a part of a team. I loved the friendships built and everything that came along with being a part of something, so I decided to join the bowling team. I immediately fell in love with it, like that fire in me had morphed into a new love. My fire had been relit even after the ashes had settled from basketball. Remembering the basketball I had, I decided to give it a new use. I sliced and cut the basketball, just as the sport had done to me. I puzzle-pieced the ball back together to make a flame, the fire that was in me. To show my new passion through bowling, I took a picture of the ball on the bowling alley carpet floor, showing the strong foundation bowling has now given me. Lastly, I put my drawing skills to use and drew a picture of me bowling in motion, representing the growing nature of the sport and life. I truly believe this piece fully encapsulates the theme “Unleash Mad Potential” through what bowling has given me. Since then, my passion for the sport has only continued to grow. I have won multiple state tournaments and competed in Junior Gold, the national youth tournament, twice. My own potential has been tapped in to, and if it wasn't for the madness of freshman year and me saying no, I would not be who I am today. The use of unusual materials, such as the bowling alley floor and basketball, helped me understand the potential every day objects can have in my art. Since then, I have used more than just watercolors and such by delving into items I have: trash, string, pictures, etc.. This piece truly taught me to push my own limits and trust the process. In the next couple months, I will be committing to bowl at a D1 college and continuing my education in Business and Marketing. This piece and opportunity has opened so many doors for me, and truly has not only taught me what I can do, but how my limits are unlimited.

When I was younger, I never thought I would use my talents for much outside of my art class. I practiced drawing eyes, faces, hands, all of it. I was the basic art girl in middle school. My teachers always told me to use my craft, but I never understood what they meant until high school. The art program at St. Joseph's is amazing and pushes us to make art we are invested in. Quickly, I started taking advanced art classes, and it forced me to think differently: what materials can I use, and what do I want to say with my art? Immediately, I thought of my brother, my cornerstone. I wanted to tell others about his perseverance and how children with chronic illnesses are truly warriors. I started with watercolors and paints, but pushed myself to work with medical supplies and other materials I had never tried before. The beginning of my investigation truly taught me to push my boundaries with what I thought impossible. By the end of the school year, my investigation had changed to how my brother's medical needs had affected the most important parts of my life. I dove deep into my feelings and conveyed how I felt through it all, the good and the bad. All the times I felt put to the side, hurt, and alone ended up being seen in my art. I showed my mental anguish when my brother was in physical pain through my art, and it freed me from my own shackles I had made. It healed a part of me and my family and helped us grow closer together in such a dark time for us. I learned I wasn't the only one at school going through these experiences. Others saw my art and had personal connections, and we came together as well, listening to each other and making new friendships. All of a sudden, I felt free. I had freed myself from something I didn't think I needed to be freed from. With this newfound freedom, I chose this year to investigate my classes and how it has helped my development. Choosing to study my environmental class, my interest was piqued by ecology and humanity's part in the world. While I continue my focus on my education as a main point in my pieces, I have learned how important it is to use environmentally friendly materials. I recycle most of my materials now from packaging and what I find in the recycling bin daily. While recycling has kept some of my materials, some materials I still have to make. When I have to make materials, I try to use materials that one day can be repurposed by other artists. Exploring new materials found in what others label as garbage has made me think of a new way to use things. Anything can be turned into art, and I look around now and see new possibilities. Possibilities that hope to inspire others to do the same, just like I have.

The sound of wheels rolling across the rough, dusty roads slowly created. One small robot, all alone in a world created by humanity’s own mistake. Wall-E knows only to pick up trash and continue to work, but a piece of humanity is in him, as evidenced by his love for anything human: the cockroach, pictures and videos of humans, and most importantly, the plant in the shoe. The movie relies on humanity’s lack of empathy for each other and how lazy they have become. This makes Wall-E stand out from everyone else, not just because of his different life experiences, but because of how much he cares for others. His empathy carries the movie and shows how important having strong relationships is and how fulfilling they may be. This movie was always shown to me starting at a very young age. My parents saw the importance of it, but I never understood the movie. I just saw two robots having fun together, until I watched it with my little brother. Watching the movie with him truly helped me understand the meaning of it all. The movie gave me more empathy for my brother, who is autistic and non-verbal. Wall-E and Eve reminded me of our sibling relationship in a sense. They both learned so much from each other and learned to trust and love each other, a love that even when other robots thought was different. While my brother and I are clearly not in love with each other, it reflects how we learned to love each other. When we were younger, I didn’t understand why he was so different from other kids. He was always getting medicine at least 3 times a day and didn’t have to go to school, which I always thought was unfair. As I grew up, I learned that there was so much more happening: he was so sick that the doctors didn’t think he would live to be 2, and his development was held back due to medical practices and developmental disorders. I learned he would never be able to go a day without some level of help and would never be able to fully speak. This realization hit me hard, and I needed a way to understand all of this. My little self couldn’t understand why the world could be so cruel and how fate could be so mean to my brother. The best way for me to understand all of this was through the media I watched, but there was nothing that was similar to all of this. Then, Wall-E was put on the television. I related to Eve so much: a robot who understood the world, and at first didn’t understand who this new robot was and how he didn’t know what to do, but as time went on, learned to love him. The little robot from the Earth, who is non-verbal and needed help because he was built differently from other robots, was a direct comparison for my little brother. Wall-E was the closest version to understanding my brother that I had, and it was truly healing to watch. If I hadn’t had this comparison, I might not have the empathy for my brother that I have today. This media truly taught me empathy and shaped who I am today, someone who believes everyone should be understood, just as Wall-E and Eve loved so much that they saved all of humanity. I believe together, we can all allow for everyone to be heard and seen once we all learn to empathize with each other.