Photography

Joshua Benson

Plant photography feels like a quiet form of reverence. It’s my way of listening to the earth—of noticing the stories written in stems, textures, and light. Nature doesn’t perform for us, but it reveals itself to those who pay attention. Capturing those moments feels like a promise to protect them. There’s depth in stillness. And through my lens, I try to show that even the smallest leaf holds meaning.

Samantha Ringgold - Seasons

Change evokes fear. As a senior at DFA, I know my peers are well aware of this. Questions of where we are going, who we will be, and what is going to happen fill our minds and create a sense of anxiety for the unknown. Many of us have grown alongside our classmates through the years, watched them change as we changed. How do we move on from that?

We take it one season at a time. It is amazing how subtle the significant changes through each season can be when you are living through it versus looking back. The comparison of Fall and Winter--the difference between the vibrant colors and the white of the world--it can seem daunting. But when Fall changes into Winter, we don't quite catch it until the cold nips at our nose one morning. It doesn't seem so scary then, because we got through it. Change becomes bearable, and in this, we can recognize the beauty of the growth happening around us. The intense vibrancy of Spring as earth breathes in new life, reaching toward the sun with desperation and fresh beauty. Our southern summers, the smell of sunscreen dancing through the wind as the sun kisses our faces. Then Fall, when the world erupts into fierce flames. The leaves drift to sleep, as mother nature gently lays everyone to a soft sleep. Winter, when we may get frightened as we watch everything wither away. The color fades, the warmth dies down, but still, there is beauty in the cold. The world is only resting, as we all need to from time to time. It is the sleep before the blossom. Without our winter, we would never have our Spring.