ART photos on Flickr

Art Fiesta 2015 by Claremont Lewis Museum of Art

John York plays guitar with artist Sumi Foley at the Padua Hills Art Fiesta on Sunday, November 1, 2015.

by Konan Tanigami, included in Seiyo Kusabana Zufu (Picture Album of Western Flowering Plants) – Japanese picture book published in 1917

Mother by Chris Garcia

The following story was written about a different image (not posted here) in the same series that this photo came from. I enjoyed it so much that I decided to post it on here.

Waiting

Written by Reannon Peterson

The planes are coming. Carrying bombs and who knows what else. She moved to the country so her daughter would be safe—growing thick fields of corn, working the land; trying to live a good, clean life. But you cannot always escape. She realizes that now.

They walk the rows in their masks and wait; for freedom, for sanity. Her daughter likes to hold the leaves. The government came a few months ago and gave them new clothes; she doesn’t understand why they have to wear white. But she doesn’t question. She can’t afford to go against the grain; for her daughter’s sake. They wear the masks and wait.

She would like something different for her daughter. They were trying for something better. She was a teacher before women were forbidden to work and they closed the schools. Her husband was taken to the camps two months ago. She doesn’t know if she’ll see him again. She probably won’t. He used to like her round shoulders. But she can’t think about it. She tries not to wonder if he’s dead. Sometimes there is a burning smell and she notices it. Everyone does.

They’ve been canning since June; trying to fill the cellar; to prepare just in case they survive. She doesn’t know what her daughter thinks about the future. Does she think about it? She’s too afraid to ask. She’s been trying to dig a well. Maybe they will survive. Maybe the camps will be attacked and some people will be able to escape. She doesn’t know where her neighbors went. Their cattle seem to have gone with them.

At night, they close all the curtains and secure the windows with wood. The dogs come out and scavenge. For those who have already killed themselves. For those who didn’t protect themselves well enough. For those who want to be taken. They wear the masks, hiding in the cellar or sometimes the attic, and wait.

She can’t just give up. It’s not what he would want. Her daughter deserves better. When the government sent those men to the town, she knew they should leave. But where would they go? They’re everywhere now. Too many people backed down. Governments should fear their people. They didn’t find two of her guns. In the meantime, they wear the masks and wait.

Arantxa Barrales by Saint John's School