Dedications: Art for special people, places, past moments
According to American writer Elbert Hubbard, “art is not a thing; it is a way.” Art is a way of living, a way of existing in the world, and of course, a way of connecting with others. In this special project, “Dedications,” The Emory Wheel’s Arts & Life Staff shares the places and people that defined, inspired or guided us through life. To explore these relationships, we’ve turned to art. Whether dedicating a song, movie or play, these articles reflect the intersection between community and creativity. We hope you enjoy them as much as we do.
Articles
Grace, gratitude and other lessons from my ‘Sweet Creature’
By: Catherine Goodman
I was raised on the water. Living on Skidaway Island in Savannah, Ga., my fondest memories smell of murky marsh soil and sound like cicadas serenading the setting sun. I spent my childhood running on bare feet through my neighborhood, catching squareback marsh crabs with my brother and driving 35 minutes to the beach on Saturdays with my dad. But of my many adolescent memories in coastal Georgia, those that sing the loudest, smell the sweetest and wash over me like waves on the shore are the ones with my grandmother.
‘Vienna waits for you:’ A dedication to my camp friends
By: Sasha Ratner
While it is a difficult task, I’ll try. “Vienna” (1977) by Billy Joel takes me to a particular place — with my friends and fellow seniors campers of Camp Seneca Lake in 2022. The words never pass between us, but it’s apparent: This could be our last summer together before the inexorable shove into summer internships, gainful employment and inevitably, adulthood. In just a few notes, I am immediately transported back to the fleeting moments of our final summer, indelible memories on the cusps of adulthood.
Ode to those who rose the curtain on ‘A Whole New World’ for me
By: Jacob Muscolino
The same way the Genie and Abu stood beside Aladdin when his life changed, and how the Sultan loved his daughter Jasmine through her challenges, I know my grandmas will be there for all of life’s magic carpet rides, even the ones that may be shaky or as shocking as a shooting star. In that same light, the world of theater has imprinted its undying signature on my heart and I will forever be drawn to the stage — if not as a performer, then always as an eager viewer.
Relearning vulnerability through Kieślowski’s ‘Three Colours: Red’
By: Clément Lee
The first time I saw this movie, I did not feel the need to analyze its philosophical allusions or technical achievements. I simply surrendered to feeling the film. Kieślowski’s use of red color gradients and lighting to convey themes of passion, love and rhythm read like visual poetry. For the first time in years, I was not trying to find the meaning behind every little scene and dissect the movie intellectually — instead, I let the film move me emotionally.
Minnesota, ‘I’m gonna love you for a long time’
By: Amelia Bush
Partially because of the memory attached to it and partially because of some indescribable pull I felt toward the song, I played “Love You For a Long Time” on repeat while I laid in bed and stared at the tiled ceilings of my dorm room during my first week in Atlanta. Every time I played the song, it reminded me of home.
The balance of a woman as seen through her eyes
By: Wendy Pelayo
In my mother’s beautiful brown eyes, I imagine the story of her past — a blurry, rose-colored image filled with sacrifice. I know she is more than a “mother” when our eyes meet, but her expression is hard to read.
A typical ‘Sunday Morning’ with my sisters
But one thing I never doubted was the superiority of the music my sisters gave me. My vast knowledge of ’90s and ’00s hits wouldn’t have been possible without the two of them exposing me to their world of music whenever they had the chance. I surrounded myself with their vast music taste, completely immersed and lost in its beautiful words. I’m so grateful for that opportunity, and I would dedicate my life to the music they showed me if I could. Instead, I’ll just dedicate one of those songs to my sisters: “Sunday Morning” (2002) by Maroon 5.
Finding ever-evolving meaning in Arcade Fire’s ‘Funeral’
By: Alex Gerson
“Funeral” is an incredibly meaningful album to me, but I never would have thought to listen to it without a publication like Pitchfork recommending it. That’s why I want to dedicate this album to the Arts & Life section of the Wheel. To me, “Funeral” is a testament to the power of arts journalism — it can open our eyes to pieces of art that stay with us for the rest of our lives.
Embracing change through ‘Bliss’
By: Anya Agarkar
Before I went away to college, I was sure that I would be beside myself with homesickness. I have always been a terribly sentimental person, so I spent my senior year laying awake at night and reciting all the things I loved about home over and over again in my head, bracing myself for the sadness I was sure I would feel. I thought about my friends, my mother's cooking, my dad's horrendous jokes and the way the sunlight filtered into the living room at home.
‘Texas wants you anyway:’ A love letter to the Lone Star State
By: Paige Hogan
As a born and raised Texan, I am both proud of and take comfort in my roots. From the southern charm of College Station, Texas to the urban beauty of Dallas, the state has always provided me with adventure and a sense of belonging that has shaped who I am today.
Driving down memory lane, embracing sisterhood through ‘Bros’
By: Martha Caroline Powell
Driving my 2013 blue Subaru Outback down a gravel road with fields on both sides, I smelled freshly cut grass wafting through the open windows. I sank into the rhythm of the road, each bump and turn comforting in its familiarity. My phone played a new song — an almost magical tune that seemed to draw me into its world. It was a song I had not heard before, but somehow, it felt like I had known it forever.
Elvis in Penghu, echoes in time
By: Jessie Li
Art, like “A Brighter Summer Day,” is never confined to a single meaning — its resonance shifts across time, places and personal histories. So, when I think of “A Brighter Summer Day,” I don’t just think of the film. I think of my family in Taiwan, their history and the beautifully complex story of the island itself.
Carousel of time: Visualizing my mom’s lullaby
By: Sasha Emmerich
Tucked under the covers of my pony-themed bunk bed as my mom sang me “The Circle Game” (1970) by Joni Mitchell, I always thought the song meant that life becomes a little less magical with each passing year — once I grew up, I would eventually step off the carousel and be on my own. But I now know the carousel spins infinitely, and the only way to go is forward.
