Essay

Throughout photographic history, the threshold that many artists had to overcome was conveying the meaning of their photographs to the public if any at all, and the orientation of the subjects in their photography. The intent of portrait photography is to display the likeness, personality, and even the mood of the subject. Nineteenth century photo historian Alan Trachtenberg notes, “Aspiring professionals wrestled with the problem: how to arrange their sitters and manipulate the often fickle medium to produce not just a picture but a pleasing one--not just a likeness but a portrait”(Trachtenberg, 24). Through these words of Trachtenberg, we can deduce that the main problem was how photographers manipulate their subjects in a way that would

Kea and I began hooking up regularly on the weekends. He introduced me to a program at his church called “Teen Challenge”. It was hosted on Friday nights. There were some nice-looking church girls there. It kind of reminded me of Coming to America. The main reason why we were there were to plot on bitties (girls). Kea did his thing on the low. He is older than me by 1 year or two. He went to the Borough (Roxborough) High School and played football for the team. They had a good squad back then but Frankford ruled the city. When we got together, we swung around town or be chilling at his house playing each other in Tecmo Bowl trash-talking each other.

Callahan Byrn strode up to the microphone, notecards in hand. Fortyish, with a trim beard still mostly dark, he acknowledged the crowd of reporters with a nod of his cowboy hat and a sweep of his blue eyes before looking at his cards.

Georgie and his presentation. Jesus christ. Seeing it all made her sick - even sicker than getting caught in the first place. Sicker than being tracked down like some low-life scumbag. Sicker than having to choose between her life or Sheridan's.

Transfer students don’t become academics. I sat in the middle of the Honor’s Scholarship Ceremony and listened as a colleague of mine presented his research on transfer students in the university system. He demonstrated that academia tends to believe that transfers are not able to conduct original research. The situation felt particularly ironic. Afterall, I was a community college transfer who was being awarded a $5,000 research scholarship that very night. I had been attending UCLA for eight months but I still remembered how desperate I initially felt when I arrived. During my first two weeks, I went to the history writing center and asked a graduate student to review my research proposal and was promptly told “You aren’t going to be

I can make personal relations to the series Sevens due to the fact I have experienced some of these teens issues. The severity of my problems do not compare to all of them, but they are similar to some. I can relate to the stories on Danny, Jane, Karyn, Reed, and even Peter. My situations were very similar to theirs.

Pete crosses toward another table. He strings a needle, becomes frustrated, and throws it to the floor. James chuckles.

I’ve been struggling for many years with state of politics in America. Although I attempt to follow Biblical commands to pray for my leaders (yes, sometimes it’s just please let their term end with no re-election), over the last decade or so I’ve felt a growing discontent with the decisions that have been made in the name of tolerance with no tolerance or allowance for conservatives (and even some extremists) who don’t agree.

(1)I walked into the barber and the barber was sitting near his chair stropping his razor diligently, as I walked in he started to shake slightly but then hid the shakes but in his eyes I thought I saw that there was some panic in them but I was not sure. He had stopped sharpening the blade during that but he was now doing it again I assume in preparation of shaving me. I took off my gun and ammo and I put it in the wardrobe that was for this purpose, I then turned toward him and said “I want a shave” with that I took a seat. My heart began to race as I sat down and I started to get nervous if I should just run but I didn’t show any of this in front of the enemy that might kill me, if I was going to die I wanted some dignity.

It had been 30 years since Antarctica had melted and society in the mainland was beginning to break down. Buildings lay dry and burned down, except for some places which got tropical storms almost daily. Minnesota had been washed out, all the rivers flooding. The buildings lay abandoned, sinking into the swampy marsh that the state had become, along with Michigan, Wisconsin, and Iowa. All this had been the result of the Great Lakes spilling over into the land because of rainfall. Living here was not possible. It was where you were sent to prison from the Ocean Districts. The prisoners never came back after they were sent to the Midwestern Marshes. Along the mainland, about 200 miles out in the ocean at the most, there were tremendous

From scraping through school to achieving a leading GPA. It is amazing how a few years can cultivate such a shift in one's life. I found passion through life experience, individual challenges, and seeking new opportunities. Leaving home to work for major global businesses in NYC to exploring academic opportunities at different community colleges, it was through this process that I was able to discover how UCONN can provide what I need to reach my goals and contribute back to humanity.

Wars have been waging on the Earth as far back as written history in its various forms of art could document. In the past, military conflict was far more unforgiving than it is today as modern international humanitarian laws have regulated war to a certain extent. Civilians are now protected against various war crimes such as genocide and therefore distanced from the wars waged by their nation’s government against enemies. This distance and protection given to the civilian population has numbed them to the various horrors of war going on overseas. People do not have to worry about their safety or the lives of their children when the closest thing to war people experience is provided by images and video from limited news coverage in the

Paint powerfully swiped across a winter white canvas, leaving the pure canvas to be tainted. The calming fragrance of paint, strong as it may be, attacked my nostrils. The dust of the attic made my mouth cotton dry, and left me tasting the scratchy musty smell. Small segments the sunlight peaks through the sole window. Black paint dripped down running off the canvas onto the easel.Each black drop, full of my own passion, and emotion. No noise littered the room except my loud thoughts screaming, and the shift of a paint brush against the rough surface of the canvas. My thoughts carried me away from the reality of painting.

I'm on a vital mission... to find my ride to the hotel. I couldn't help but wonder what possessed my good friend to have both left his phone off but also hasn't checked it in over an hour and a half. I know he brought it considering I saw it in his hands before we entered, and he sent some surprisingly suggestive pictures of him with some female cosplayers. Honestly I couldn't be angry he was the reason I was even here, and he even provided this ODST costume the both of us are similar sizes which was cool. I definitely did not have the dedication to make such a convincing costume I've already been asked to be in several pictures despite not starting with any weapons and later in the day not having any weapons from halo i did have several

Tim pushed his back upwardly, propping up his elbows to survey his modest surroundings. The Hotel Samarra room had two twin beds, divided by a nightstand and a wobbly brass lamp. A dresser sat nearby the foot of Tim 's bed with a 1980 's Sylvania TV/VCR combo set. Across from the dresser was a raggedy desk and chair, nearest the entrance.