Twenty-two students, guided by instructors Lara Mendicino and Tim Krause, spent time exploring Southeast with cellphone cameras in hand. Their assignment: slow down, look closely, and capture aspects of campus life and culture that are often overlooked in the daily rush to class and work.

Students returned with images ranging from the unusual to the unexpectedly familiar, often seen from new angles. While many students captured images of nature, others focused on art, architecture, and even the signs. Each participant selected one photograph to feature and wrote a short interpretation in English—which, for many, is a second, third, or even fourth language—before making an audio recording to explain the image’s significance.

Using HARTS funding, Mendicino and Krause produced 8×10 color prints of each photograph and generated individual QR codes linking to the students’ recordings. The finished works were installed as an exhibit along the second-floor hallway bulletin boards in Mt. Scott Hall, where they will remain on display through at least the end of Winter 2026. Publication of the exhibit was sent via email to instructors, staff, and administrators of the SE ESOL department. Several instructors have expressed interest in taking their classes to see the exhibit.

The exhibit invites the hundreds, even thousands, of visitors who pass through the building to pause, look, and listen. Hearing students describe their own images in their own voices can spark reflection and conversation not only about the art itself but also about the cultures, languages, and lived experiences that make up the С��è��ý community.

Each day this week, I’ve had my coffee and breakfast at a small mosaic table on an octagonal porch overlooking an orchard. As I eat my croissants and scrambled eggs, a squirrel gluts herself on an unripe apple in the tree across from me, and a juvenile deer is doing what can only be described as playing in the sunlit field to my left. He munches at the grass for a few seconds before leaping and bucking with joy and abandon. At 41, I have dutifully taken up bird watching like a prince on whom the kingdom was foisted, knowing his day would come eventually, and taking up the scepter with dignity when the time comes (the scepter, binoculars, in this scenario). I make notes in my journal of all the sensory details, unsure what, if anything, they will become.

This type of morning, without the city sound of garbage trucks or the neighbors’ dogs, without my cat begging for food, and with no looming to-do list, is only possible because I am in the middle of a brief writing residency. My days are luxuriously free and aesthetically inspiring. A few days in, I have found my rhythms and routines, and I get why writing residencies are a thing: the luxury of time, the novelty of location, the ever-so-slight pressure to produce something good.

Despite being a writing instructor, my own writing practice is relatively new to me. I attribute this mainly to the fact that until my late 30s, I was working so much that I didn’t really have time to write. I studied literature in graduate school, and the bulk of the writing I produced consisted of long academic essays and — I’ve come to realize recently — emails with my friends. When I decided two years ago to start working more seriously on my own writing, I did not have a specific goal in mind. I just knew I had ideas, and I finally had the time to write them down. Over the past two years, I have written fitfully and at random. Usually I just wake up one morning with an idea and work on it until I realize I am hungry and it’s 2pm. Though I’ve written poetry and toyed with fiction in the past, my strength is nonfiction. It’s no surprise that after teaching students to write essays for 13 years, I gravitate towards the genre myself. While the fitful and random writing process worked for a while, it is not conducive to consistency or habit, and as I’ve gradually set more goals for myself (publishing more, posting monthly to substack), I’ve had to consider what it means to have a writing practice, how to write even if the muse hasn’t paid her visit.

Much of my writing reflects on the past. My own past and those I shared it with. Lately, my research (if you can call it that) largely revolves around re-reading old emails, which serve as a time capsule for what I thought, how I wrote, and who I was friends with at any given time from 2004 to 2011 (at which point smartphones, texting, and social media overthrew the personal email empire). Looking through old emails has become the closest thing to a writing ritual that I have. In fact, during my residency, I’ve been working on an essay about email, an ode of sorts to the last bastion of long form written communication before the fragmentation and chaos of texting and social media took over for good, before writing an email became so burdensome that people were foaming at the mouth to give it over to ChatGPT, even if it meant accelerating the destruction of the planet.

And so, here is the closest thing I have to a writing ritual. From my perch overlooking the field with the deer and the birds and the squirrels, I open old emails: between me and my best friend, between me and my mother, between me and my old roommates (who, when we were travelling, or sometimes even when we were living together, wrote each other long narratives about everything from relationships to god to climate change to Kate Bush). As I read my old writing, I am equal parts embarrassed and proud, delighted and horrified, humored and saddened. But most of all, I am heartened at this reminder that I have always been writing. And with this reminder, I can get to work.

A ritual to remind you you were always a writer

Step 1: Open your oldest email account

Step 2: Search for an email that’s as old as possible with one of your earliest acquaintances.

Step 3: Open one at random. The more decontextualized, the better (look for cryptic subject lines like song lyrics or simply “mushrooms”).

Step 4: Read the exchange in one big gulp.

Step 5: Cringe at your naivete, your sincerity, your bad writing.

Step 6: Celebrate your naivete, your sincerity, your bad writing, and your good writing (it’s there too).

Step 7: Notice how and where you were developing a voice, a point of view, perhaps even a world view.

Step 8: Marvel at the time capsule that big tech has given you in exchange for your privacy, a glimpse at your past thoughts with a to-the-minute time stamp.

Step 9: Open a blank page (digital or paper) and start writing.

Over the five days I stayed at Carolyn Moore Writers House, I used Kim Krans’ tarot The Wild Unknown Alchemy Deck and Guidebook to guide my daily writing. Each day, I drew a card and wrote in response to it.

Pictured below is the tarot spread in completion, the five daily cards grouped together. The one card to the right was my clarifying card, a final card meant to clarify and amplify the meaning of them all, and to give a sense of what I could take with me as my residency came to a close.

Quicksilver, the first card I drew on my first day was appropriate. In short, the card can be read as “the sacred threshold demands your attention.”

Coagulation, the second card I drew, can be read as, “experience the merging of others while not losing oneself.”

The New Pearl, the third day’s card, can be read as, “find the grit that will become the pearl.”

Iron, the card drawn for my fourth day, can be read as, “be held by the structure already in place.”

Sulphur, the card for my fifth and final day, can be read as, “embrace a both and mentality.”

And finally, Sap of the Moon Plant, the card I drew to clarify what to take from all cards, can be read as, “a metaphor for the wellspring of the unconscious–release your grip–the dream is waiting to show itself but awaits your sincere invitation.”

In her introduction to the tarot deck, Kim Karns recalls what an art teacher once told her during a critique: “I bet you thought you were working on a sculpture. Maybe the sculpture is working on you.”

That’s the point of view I held at the Writer’s House. I was there to work on writing, but more importantly, I let the writing work on me.

Some writing prompts to let the writing work on you:

• Quicksilver: Write about a time you stepped out of your everyday routine into a space that transformed how you saw yourself or your work. How did that shift feel?
• Coagulation: Explore the metaphor of creativity as a plant you’ve neglected. What happens when you start watering it again?
• The New Pearl: Write a short scene in which a character receives unexpected “grit” to work with. How do they transform it into something valuable?
• Iron: Imagine a house designed specifically to foster creativity. Walk through its rooms in your mind and describe them.
• Sulphur: Use a freewrite to explore how “ease” and “uncertainty” can exist together in the creative process.
• Sap of the Moon: Begin with the sentence: “It was always there, waiting for me…” and let the rest flow.

A Final Note

My writing desk at the Writers House

The experience allowed me to embrace a space of process so the purpose of my stay became one of allowing myself the time and space to simply be open to the experience of being at the house, writing and reading. I did, however, manage to see at least one creation to completion, courtesy of the wild blackberry bushes growing throughout the property.

A blackberry pie at the Writers House

Thank you to Justin Rigamonti and the HARTS program at С��è��ý for giving me the opportunity to write, compose, and become inspired at the Carolyn Moore Writers House. And thank you to James Pepe for the gift of Kim Krans’ Alchemy Deck & Guidebook.

On Saturday, June 7, students from ART 217: Comics Art and Literature concluded the term by attending and tabling at (BwPCon) in Portland, Oregon. The event made their coursework more tangible and provided real-world engagement with the wider comics community.

During the Spring term, students in ART 217 focused on graphic adaptations, examining how existing narratives, histories, and biographies are reinterpreted through the medium of comics. They closely studied Eileen Gray: A House Under the Sun, Days of Sand, and Kusama: The Graphic Novel, using these texts to inspire their own visual storytelling efforts. Each week, the class also produced physical, handmade micro-comics in the form of one-sheet folded zines. In preparation for BwPCon, the 20-person cohort  revised and printed their comics to share with the public, which gave them a chance to talk about the value and accessibility of this medium.

The day of the convention, ART 217 students took turns tabling in two-hour shifts. Not only did they distribute more than 400 comics, but they also chatted with curious attendees and taught some folks the fold-and-cut zine technique.

“I couldn’t be more proud of how our students showed up—both professionally and creatively. As an instructor, witnessing this level of engagement was moving. This wasn’t just an academic exercise; it was a real-world entry point into a larger dialogue about comics as a serious and vibrant cultural form,” said instructor Jay Olinger.

To see more student work from ART 217, .

Through my experience in taking the course Humanities 100, I’ve come to
understand the humanities as a vital collection of disciplines that collectively explore the multifaceted nature of the human experience. Rooted in the academic study of subjects like literature, theater, art, art history, religious studies, music, film, architecture, and philosophy, the humanities delve into the core of what it means to be human. This course has illuminated how individuals and societies across diverse cultures and
historical periods have sought to create, express, and understand their world through artistic creations, cultural innovations, intellectual ideas, and spiritual beliefs. Notably, our exploration extended to the powerful medium of film, including Akira Kurosawa Dreams, a cinematic work that vividly illustrated humanity’s complex and oftentimes fraught relationship with the natural world.

My engagement with this discipline throughout the term was multifaceted and very enriching. I actively participated in class discussions, striving to understand diverse viewpoints and critically analyze the material presented. The assigned readings, ranging
from excerpts of Dante Alighieri’s Inferno and Miguel de Cervantes Don Quixote to the thought-provoking Scheherazade Goes West by Fatima Mernissi, provided varied perspectives on human history, culture, and storytelling.

Another significant aspect of my engagement was through the Arts Culture project, which prompted me to step outside the traditional classroom setting to explore the humanities in action. I chose to attend a poetry slam, an experience that immediately resonated with our studies of the rich poetic traditions that flourished in Al-Andalus. Observing contemporary poets share their voices and stories in a dynamic format allowed me to draw parallels with the artistic spirit and cultural significance of poetry from different eras and cultures.

This exploration of the humanities extended beyond the classroom in other ways as well. The poetry slam served as a powerful reminder that human expression and the need for creative storytelling remain constant across time. It allowed me to connect a modern art form with the historical and cultural context we explored in class. Beyond
this project, I found myself more attuned to the presence of the humanities in my daily life. I started to notice architectural details, appreciate art throughout the many places I visited, and consider philosophical ideas present in everyday conversations, all through
a new lens developed in this course. Thanks to the encouragement of this course, I stepped outside my usual routine and experienced more of the arts, including a visit to the Portland Art Museum, attending a play, and watching documentaries I might have missed.

Ultimately, our study of the humanities in HUM 100 holds profound relevance and importance in the 21st century. In an increasingly interconnected and globalized world, understanding the diverse tapestry of human cultures, beliefs, and expressions is crucial for fostering empathy, promoting tolerance, and navigating complex intercultural
relationships. Our exploration of Medieval Spain, particularly the concept of convivencia, highlighted the historical possibilities of coexistence and mutual respect, lessons that remain vital in our contemporary society. Moreover, the humanities equip us with essential critical thinking, communication, and analytical skills necessary to engage
thoughtfully with the multifaceted challenges of our time. By exploring life’s enduring questions and the myriad ways humans have sought meaning, the humanities not only enrich our individual lives but also contribute to a more informed, engaged, and compassionate global community.

Please join us for a night of readings and celebration to mark the launch of landmark issues of two С��è��ý publications: Sylvania’s Alchemy turns 50 & Cascade’s The Pointed Circle turns 40!

Wednesday, June 12, 2024
Doors at 6 p.m.
Event at 6:30 p.m.

С��è��ý Cascade, Terrell Hall 122
5624 N Borthwick Ave, Portland, OR 97217

This special event will include contributor readings and words from the editors and will feature special guest readers Frank X Walker (author of ten books of poetry and founder of the Affrilachian poets) and Shauna Morgan (poet-scholar and Professor of Creative Writing and Africana Literature).

Alchemy’s 50th issue includes contributions by С��è��ý students, faculty, and alumni, as well as a special folio of selections from Alchemy’s 50-year history. This celebration issue includes work by prolific poet and founding member of the Northwest Native American Writers Association (and С��è��ý alumni), Gloria Bird; Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress (Poet Laureate of the US) and Poet Laureate of Oregon, William Stafford; and Oregon Book Award-winning fiction-writer (and С��è��ý alumni), Kesha Ajose Fisher.

The Pointed Circle’s 40th issue includes contributions by С��è��ý students, faculty, and alumni. The issue features a special folio of selections from the first three years of the Carolyn Moore Writer’s House at С��è��ý, including work by award-winning writers Ismet Prcic (winner of the 2013 Oregon Book Award for Fiction), Jae Nichelle (viral poetry star and author of the 2023 collection Gods Themselves), and Jose Hernandez Diaz (winner of the 2023 Benjamin Saltman Award).

Copies of both Alchemy and The Pointed Circle will be available at the event.

For questions, please contact Megan Savage or Justin Rigamonti.

We hope to see you there!

Join us on Wednesday June 14th at 7 pm for the launch of two of С��è��ý’s literary magazines, Alchemy and . Doors will open at 6 pm in Terrell Hall 122 on the Cascade Campus, and then at 7 pm we will hear from the editors and contributing authors of this year’s issues of the two magazines. To end the night, we’ll have short readings from award-winning writers Crystal Wilkinson and Ron Davis, aka upfromsumdirt.

Please write to thepointedcirclepdx@gmail.com with questions!

The issue can be .

We are grateful for all who have submitted work to this year’s publication. “Why do we publish in 2023?” – because art and literature build community by introducing unique perspectives. Without our community’s hard work and support, we would not have been able to make this happen. So, again, thank you to those who have submitted, and to you, for reading our publication. We are grateful to share this experience with you and to journey together: escaping into our collective creativity, risking our truth, and grounding, together, in this dewy Pacific Northwest community. Enjoy!

The editors of The Pointed Circle, С��è��ý’s long-running literary journal, invite you to share your writing and artwork for our upcoming 39th edition. We are looking for impassioned, intriguing work from diverse voices.

We consider unpublished works within these parameters: Poetry (up to 5 poems per submission)

Short stories and nonfiction (up to 2000 words)
Visual art (up to 3 images)

Please send your submissions to thepointedcirclepdx@gmail.com.
The subject line should include your name and the genre of your work. In the body of the email, please include a short (third-person) bio as well as a single document containing all of your pieces. For those submitting visual art, if your files will not fit in an email, please include a link to a Google Drive folder containing your pieces. We accept PDF, DOC, and DOCX for written works and high-res png or jpeg for visual works.

Simultaneous submissions are welcome. If your work is accepted by another publication, please email us to withdraw your submission. Please be aware that we are not a paying market.

Submission deadline: March 31, 2023

For more inspiration and information please check out our social media Instagram: @thepointedcircle
Twitter: @p_c_pdx – The Pointed Circle
TikTok: @pointedcircle0 – The Pointed Circle

The publication highlights the creative work of С��è��ý students – stories, poems, drawings, photographs, paintings, and other artworks. Faculty, staff, and community members are welcome to submit along with students.

Letter & Line is published digitally.

General Guidelines

• Submissions are accepted from December 1 to around February 15
• Submit up to 5 poems, 5 stories, 5 scripts, 5 pieces of creative nonfiction, 5 photographs, and 5 artworks.
• Submit up to 1,000 words for each story, script, or nonfiction submission.
• Title each submitted item, and submit each as a separate file (.jpeg, .tiff, .doc, .docx, or .rft are all okay; please do NOT submit .pdfs), up to 5 files for each category.
• A cover letter accompanying the first uploaded file should contain a brief bio, e-mail address, US Mail address, phone number, and the titles of works submitted.
• The Alchemy/Letter & Line Editing and Publishing class reserves editorial control of all material submitted and protects all rights.

Consider also submitting to our annual publication, 80 pages in full color and perfect bound. Submission deadline is March 10, publication June 1.

Letter & Line Literary Magazine, Division of English and World Languages

С��è��ý, PO Box 19000, Portland, OR 97280-0990

To see the previous edition of .

Letter & Line is the publication formerly known as Alembic. To see previous versions of Alembic, visit: Letter & Line.