Xiaolong Zhao (age 19)

Baotou, Mongolia

The objects in the picture are called the Four Treasures of the Study. They are brushes, inkstones, paperweights, and Xuan paper. On the right of the photograph, one brush is made of wolf hair and the other is made of wool. They have different nib hardnesses because they have different functions. On the top of the picture is the inkstone decorated by a carved dragon and a Chinese scroll, which symbolizes majesty. The inkstone is a special stone, and its function is to hold the ink stick that will be ground and mixed with water to make liquid ink, which will be transferred to the right container. On the left of the picture are two paperweights, and the pattern on them is bamboo from the Three Friends of Winter. These two heavier stones are responsible for keeping the paper flat. In the middle is Xuan paper, a specially crafted calligraphy paper. The word written on the paper is 福（blessing)—this Chinese character symbolizes peace and happiness. My mother and I like to use these tools to practice calligraphy. In the picture, I am writing calligraphy. My mother taught me calligraphy when I was very young. For my family, calligraphy not only represents a skill; it also cultivates one's mind and temperament. Because of my studies, I do not have time to study calligraphy systematically. Whenever I have free time, I always like to open the window and let the sunshine and breeze sprinkle onto the desk in the warm afternoon air. I like to feel the roughness of the ink particles and the smoothness of the Xuan paper, and forget all the worries in life to make my artwork.

I have always been curious about the evolution of other scripts, such as the ancient Greek alphabet, Egyptian hieroglyphs, cuneiform, and Indus Scripts. Unfortunately, these scripts and their cultures have all fallen into the long river of history. These characters are like mysterious codes waiting for humans to crack. There is only a little connection between them and the modern scripts, and their vitality is like a flame from a burned out candle. At this time, I feel the greatness of Chinese characters more and more. This is the only living ancient writing system with its own unique writing methods and instruments. I feel very fortunate that my culture is not locked away in a museum. It is in the homes of ordinary Chinese people who love and are still writing calligraphy, a part of the Chinese culture. Whenever I hold a brush, I feel I am connected to history. Whether it is ancient poetry or novels, ancient military orders or edicts, they were all written with the tools in my hand and the characters I use. How romantic is this! It's like passing the Olympic flame. Every Chinese dynasty, every Chinese emperor, and every ordinary person will pass the Chinese culture from generation to generation. The fire of the times burns traces of the old dynasty, but they cannot burn away all the traces of culture. This is not only a miracle for the Chinese people but also a miracle for humanity. Today, Chinese traditional culture has met with modern development. Calligraphy has a new life, and people don't need to commemorate it because it still exists.

Ian Rosenzweig (age 14)

Pennsylvania, U.S.

My artifact is an extremely important piece of my family’s history in America and a representation of the values we hold closely. It is a book entitled Seder Avodah for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. This translates from Hebrew to “Order of Service for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.” Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the Jewish New Year and Jewish Day of Repentance. They are the two most important holidays of the Jewish year and are referred to as the High Holy Days. This specific prayer book was passed down to my mother from her parents. It was written in 1960 by Rabbi Max D. Klein of Adath Jeshurun Synagogue (known as AJ), which was in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It is now in Elkins Park, Pennsylvania. Congregants brought the book with them to the services.

Today, most synagogues provide prayer books. The book belonged to my great-grandmother, Bella Zemble. AJ was the congregation my great-grandparents’ belonged to. Their three sons (including my grandfather) had their Bar Mitzvahs (Jewish Right of Passage ceremonies) there, my mother had her Bat Mitzvah there, and my parents were married there. AJ is a strong piece of our family’s history. Using this book was a joyous aspect of the difficult holiday services we endured in the pandemic environment. It allowed us to pray and participate in our service without squinting at the computer screen for hours on end, and it helped us to link our heritage, which felt particularly important this year since we had to socially distance from our relatives with whom we usually celebrate the holidays. The machzor brought up memories for all of us. It made us recall past, happier High Holy Days when we were able to pray in the synagogue with our community and be with our family, which were both missing elements from the online service. My mom thought about her grandmother who passed away when she was twelve years old.

My sister and I learned about our family’s history. We knew about the importance of Adath Jeshurun to our family and that my grandparents are still congregants at AJ, but there was so much more wrapped up in that little book. We learned about what a service day looked like for our great-grandparents and grandparents. We learned about my great-grandparents' untimely deaths within a year of each other. We learned about a synagogue that held so much importance in our family’s past, including memories of all life cycle events. But most importantly, I discovered a piece of my family that was buried deeply beneath the stories of family history that I typically hear: the stories of the Holocaust and the countless family members lost and the anti-Semitism that stripped my family of equal opportunity in Europe and in America. This book initiated discussions of happier times and I learned positive stories about the continuity of this synagogue and this book within my family. I learned about my family, their synagogue and the prayer book that was issued to them 60 years ago which is used on the exact days of the Jewish calendar that I use them on, forming a connection between myself and my great-grandparents. All these connections took place through an artifact that had no monetary value, but was treasured because it signified the ability to pray and live as Jews in a free country. It not only allowed us to experience feelings that we are meant to feel on our High Holy Days, but also express feelings passed down to us through my great-grandmother’s Seder Avodah, her prayer book.

Iñaki Ramos (age 16)

Mexico City, Mexico

Due to the pandemic, the thought of death has become more present in our lives. Humanity has faced several challenges throughout the year of 2020, and most of us have lost someone we care about. I asked myself: how can an artifact connect us as a society? I realized that the concept of death, and death itself, has been more present than ever throughout the year. Because of the spread of COVID-19, we haven't been able to properly grieve.

I decided to document a typical altar for The Day of the Dead as my artifact. In Mexico, we have a celebration called The Day of the Dead where we show respect and appreciation for the people who are no longer with us. Every year on November 1st and 2nd, families across South America put up an altar to commemorate their lost ones. The Day of the Dead is considered one of the most beautiful traditions because it represents death from a completely different point of view. No one is really dead unless they are forgotten, so this day is dedicated to remembering all the people that we love and who are no longer with us.

This tradition has existed for more than 3,000 years and it has been passed down from generation to generation. An altar has different objects and each one of them has a meaning. It is formed by cempasuchil flowers, traditional food, candles, pictures, and personal belongings. The cempasuchil flowers are a bridge that connects the world of the living with the world of the dead. The candles illuminate the path home and the food and pictures welcome the dead to the world of the living. There is only a picture of my grandfather on the altar because it is not allowed to put a picture of a living person. Otherwise, you will get bad luck. Throughout my childhood my family has gathered to celebrate The Day of the Dead. I never felt the honor to celebrate it until six years ago when my grandfather passed away. It was special for me to set up an altar to honor him.

Since then, The Day of the Dead has been an important tradition in my life. The year 2020 has been difficult for many families across the world and most of us have been in constant pain. When I was putting up my altar this year, I realized that it helped me heal and have closure around my losses. It also helped me appreciate the values that I have learned from each person that is on my altar. The Day of the Dead is a tradition that connects us all in our most painful times when we lose someone we love. It also allows us to appreciate life.

Leela Khatri (age 16)

Ohio, U.S.

The celebration of Diwali has always held great importance to my family. I remember each celebration throughout my childhood as a blissful reflection of each year and the projection of hope for the future. For as long as I can remember, goddess Lakshmi’s framed picture has been around for our annual celebrations. To me, Lakshmi represents much more than the goddess of prosperity and good fortune. She holds the promise of happiness and is representative of eternal hope. I do not consider myself a religious person, yet the memories I have attached to Diwali will forever be priceless. A specific attachment I have with Diwali is the joy my grandfather had during that time of year. Every Diwali, he would take us shopping for new clothes to celebrate the new year and his beaming, radiant energy was contagious. Ultimately, I decided to take this photograph because I believe it captures the symbolism of Diwali.

To celebrate, a simple mandir and a short prayer may suffice. Diwali is a perfect time for reflection. I love spending time with my family and recognizing how grateful I am for the support I receive every day. I believe that capturing this scene projects the warmth and invitation of Diwali, a celebration that represents new beginnings and the hope for a better future. The candles and prayer items that I decided to represent as my artifact connect to our common humanity in several ways. The first is a symbol of faith, an item that one may turn to when feeling discouraged or lost, and any artifact can provide that same solace. The second is the symbol of hope, which contains the strength and value of resilience. I find that sharing individual stories is a great way of projecting happiness and motivation to the world. I chose this artifact because it is something that truly projects joy in my life and allows me to keep moving forward even through tough times.

Ella Andersen (age 14)

California, U.S.

Artifacts in our everyday lives connect those we love and bring us together. I photographed "My Friend Flicka" by Mary O'Hara. This book was given to my great-grandfather, Victor, and it was given to him by his late sister Gloria in 1943. This copy was published in 1941, making it 79 years old. It sat on my papa's shelf above his bed for many years and now it sits on mine. The book has been passed down for two generations and I hope to continue this trend. This book is very special to me and my family. It shows us an aspect of my papa's family that we didn't know; he and Gloria had a great love for the country and horses. Gloria wrote to him the following words on the first page of this book: "To Vic, with the hope that one day his wish to own a horse will come true. May it be soon." These words from Gloria were one of the last things she said to my papa. Though my papa has passed, this book will forever remain significant in my life. It contains joyful memories and hope. One day, I hope to pass this very special book down to another generation.

Skye Stubbs (age 17)

Florida, U.S.

The relationship between Indigenous people and nature inspired me to take this photograph. The gentle gesture of the subject resting on the tree speaks volumes, as if they are no different than each other. There is this unspoken respect shown in the photograph that I have seen firsthand between Indigenous people and anything that Mother Earth has provided to us. Being Indigenous, I remember when I would help my mother cook she would always say, "Do not be scared of the fire. You are supposed to respect it." Ironically, we always had an electric stove. However, that never led me away from respecting all things in life. Whether it was cooking under a chickee on a fire, or cooking on an electric stove in a house, I always respected the fire, and it respected me back. Respect goes a long way. We can listen to the living world with our whole selves by simply being close to nature. Go outside and breathe fresh air for a minute or go take a run in a field. Your efforts do not need to be extravagant, they just need to happen. Also, take care of the earth as it does you. It provides you with the air that you breathe and the food that you eat, and all the earth expects back is simple respect.

Amber Cypress (age 16)

Florida, U.S.

Silence

Being Indigenous, nature has always been an important aspect of my culture. In this photograph, the subject has a handprint on her mouth, symbolizing the ignorance of others and the silence of my people. "Respect the land" was a message passed down from my ancestors for generations. The land provides, it heals, and it is beautiful. Climate change is a major issue and has been for hundreds of years. My people fought for this land and they died protecting it. We won’t be the only ones affected by this issue: the animals are at risk, too. The animals are just as important as the land itself and we need to protect both. The reservation is home to many marvelous animals such as panthers, snakes, birds, and many more. There was a pipeline that almost ran through their home, destroying their chances of survival. The Keystone Pipeline was almost completed before it was shut down due to growing concerns. The pipeline would have run 100 miles through reservations across America, destroying not only our homes, but the home of animals as well. Climate change is a problem that still needs to be talked about today, and I want to be one to spread the message. My people were silenced for long enough, and we will not stand for it anymore. I refuse to remain silent.

Gemma Rossi (age 14)

California, U.S.

For Italians, pasta is a crucial part of daily life. Not only is it a staple of the Italian diet, but the craft of making pasta is passed down from generation to generation. From a pile of flour and an egg, traditional Italian women knead the dough with their hands into the tagliatelle con raggù that my father grew up eating every day in his home on the Adriatic coast. The artifact is not the pasta, but what is used to make the pasta. A tagliere (tale-YAY-ray), a large wooden board, is the surface on which pasta dough is kneaded and rolled out with a mattarello (Mat-TA-rel-lo), or rolling pin. Kept in every Italian family’s household, they are either used daily for traditional pasta or used for making pasta on special occasions. Our tagliere and mattarello are not passed down relics. They were a wedding gift made by Luciano Drudi, the old woodworker who lived across the street from my father’s childhood home in Borella. I will now inherit the tagliere and mattarello so I can make pasta just like my babbo taught me. The pasta will then be eaten by family and friends and will disappear as the night goes on. Italians end the night with liquirizia and gelato. Who doesn’t feel the connection created by good food?

Makenna Hartwick (age 15)

Hawaii, U.S.

History on the Family Table

This artifact is a Sankyo music box that dates back to the 1960s, possibly even the 1950s. Made in Japan, it has been passed down through my maternal family, starting with my great-grandma. She gave it to my mother, who had it since childhood and traveled across the country with it. It was then given to my older sister who gave it to me. I conducted research for several hours to find exactly when it was made and if there are others like it, but have found no answers. When wound up, the music box plays a delightful tune which brings me joy and causes me to think of the others who have listened to it before me.

Music is the only language that connects the whole Earth. It brings people together to dance, sing, have special moments, and make memories no matter what part of the world you are in. Each culture has its own unique style of music, but it is ultimately the joy of sound that unites us all. Not only is my artifact important to me, but the image in and of itself is one that I cherish.

The table that this box stands on was built in 2012 by my father and me. It has lasted through many years of tears, arguments, dinner parties, craft activities, and family meals. Every day, my family comes together to eat dinner on this table with no phones, just real human connection. We talk about our days, our frustrations, and share genuine time together no matter how tired we are. I feel as though many people today lack human connection and could use a family dinner every once in a while. Although you can’t hear its little song, it still brings me joy. My music box is already tarnished with age and history, and in a few more decades, it may be broken and thrown away by its new owner. Despite that, this picture allows it to live on forever, a magnificent piece frozen in time.

Gianna Leung (age 16)

Mississauga, Canada

While I was looking for an artifact to photograph, I realized the immense sacrifice my immigrant parents gave to start a life here in Canada. This small clay teapot has always been an important part of the home. Growing up, I would often watch my parents brew tea after dinner and talk for hours about everything from the cooking time of ginseng soup to a close friend’s funeral in their home country they could not attend. I wondered why it was always accompanied by tea.

This small teapot was the only connection that remained for them as a reminder of their home. It gave them a reason to converse in the comfort of each other and allowed them to stay rooted in the foundation of their culture, even as their children forgot their mother tongue. In the Chinese tradition, the youngest family member serves elders. Often, the interactions that are possible between parents and children become limited as the world continues to evolve. This photograph conveys the idea that despite the development of technology and assimilation to another culture, families remain connected through small interactions made possible from objects of the past. Artifacts are a physical manifestation of the stories of our roots and are symbols we can see, hold, and experience for ourselves.

Macey Aven (age 16)

Florida, U.S.

I photographed a statue of the Virgin Mary, an important figure in my religion and in my childhood. I took this photograph at St. Mark's Church, where I was baptized and received my communion. My great-grandparents were devout Christians from Italy who brought their religious customs to the United States. Growing up, I spent much of my time at the church or around those with a Christian influence. I wanted to share the beauty that I saw myself in these familiar statues and buildings.

María Fernanda Ortega Cuevas (age 18)

Mexico City, Mexico

To me, food means family. As a Mexican, I can tell you that food is union and caring. Food is how you demonstrate love. My passion for photography aims to show how one can find beauty even in the most ordinary places or objects. Almost every Mexican household in central Mexico owns most of the objects portrayed and uses or consumes them on a daily basis. The only element that might not be in every Mexican home are churros. They symbolize the importance of food in our culture and all the sweet and comforting memories that pan dulce (sweet bread) brings to every Mexican. I remember that as a child, one of the best things about the weekend was when we would go to Coyoacán, a historically rich neighborhood in Mexico City, where I would have breakfast with my family and walk around to visit beautifully vivid and colorful sites. The most awaited moment of the day was when we would go to our favorite churrería (churro shop) and buy a few while drinking hot chocolate.

The cempasúchil flowers and the candle represent our most internationally recognized festivity, The Day of the Dead, which has a beautiful and culturally rich historical meaning throughout Mexico. On a personal level, it has a very deep and profound significance. I believe this holiday makes people appreciate and realize how beautiful life is, not only because of the feelings, people, and experiences it brings us but how fragile and temporary all of it is. Yet, nothing makes us feel more alive and loved than sitting around a table with friends and family, basking in the sweet yet deep aroma of warm hot chocolate, while tasting the divine sweetness of a sugary-sweet churro. It does not end there though. The texture of a handmade plate with its cold to-the-touch ceramic slickness and a gently lit candle flame with the scent of serene lavender lights the dimly lit night sky filled with stars and cool wind. This lights the senses of everyone present and makes every moment of one’s encounter with this tradition even more memorable.

Riya Garg (age 17)

Florida, U.S.

This artifact, a special candle and flowers placed on a tray, is part of a ritual in my culture called Arti. The goal of Arti is to cleanse the air of any darkness and to give thanks to our gods. The candle, called a deepak, is lit and placed in the middle of the tray, representing the deity’s power. While everyone sings a song to praise the deity, the tray circles around the figure of our deity. It passes through each family so everyone can give their respects. One cups one’s hand over the flame and brings it to the forehead, and passes the blessing of the god to each person. The deepak is special in this time of year because of the holiday Diwali, the festival of lights, where we light deepaks and place them all over our house, representing purity in the home. Usually on Diwali a huge celebration occurs, where you can see deepaks everywhere since it's the main symbol of Diwali. I captured this photograph during Arti when my parents were doing a ritual with the priest to give blessings and ensure good luck.

Miguel Ángel Vargas Sosa (age 17)

Mexico City, Mexico

The Ring and the Skull

This photograph portrays a history of several generations. My great-grandfather lived in Mexico and he had a very complicated life. When he was a child, his family had no money. They were quite poor. He had to start working at a very young age to help his family, but he managed to continue studying and fulfilled his dream of becoming a doctor. At that time, students were allowed to have a real human skull for study and he had one. My great-grandfather began to work and with his first payment he bought the ring with his initials. This ring is more than 100-years-old. Many years passed and my grandfather was born. When he grew up, he followed his father's steps, becoming a doctor. The skull was passed on to him. Just like his father, he used the skull to study, and when my great-grandfather passed away he gave the ring to my grandfather. Many years later my father was born, and he decided that he would also become a doctor like his father. My grandfather gave him the skull. When my grandfather got sick, just days before he passed away at the age of 76, he gave the ring to my father and told him the story of where the ring came from and how important it was, just like his father once did.

Today, my brother continues the tradition. He is studying medicine accompanied by the skull and when the time comes, the ring will pass into his hands. For me, the ring is the most important artifact because it's a symbol of the effort and progress made by my family to get to where we are. The ring is a memory of those who had it in their hands, it represents the passion and sacrifice of moving forward. It also reflects change and progress. The ring is a memory of who we were, a reminder of who we are, and represents who we will be.

Maja Szpunar (age 15)

Hawaii, U.S.

This strój Krakowski has been passed down in my family as a tradition for generations. It is a traditional Polish folk costume from the town of Kraków and is worn on holidays. I feel connected with the people in my life through this object because, although I was born in Hawai’i, a piece of Poland is close. It helps me to remember where I am from and it connects me to our tradition. More than thirty years ago, my auntie Marlena was the original owner of this strój Krakowski. When she was young, she wore the vest with its flower crown and ditsy skirt on Easter celebrations, an important Polish tradition. Just as my aunt once did, I wore this outfit as a young child while I played with traditional Polish decorated wooden Easter eggs. I remember observing the detailed patterns at the age of two, feeling the texture along the vests’ beaded surface and lacing up the back with its silk string.

This artifact offers a glimpse of how times have changed, as I imagine the strój Krakowski sewn and embroidered by hand in a small Polish village. This contrasts with today’s culture where everything is mass-produced in distant factories and sold in corporate department stores. I am still part of this culture today, even though I live far away. My dad was born in Poland where his family dates back for generations. I live in Maui and many people are considered and treated like family. Yet, I have always felt like something was missing. I learned about Poland, Polish traditions, and about my family in this other country, but I have never experienced it for myself. This artifact gives me hope for the future. I hope to visit Poland and experience the stories I have been told. No matter what your background is, the human element of tradition is a way for all of us to connect with our culture and ancestors. It allows us to pass on the history of our ancestors and the lessons they learned to future generations. One day, I hope to pass this artifact and its story to a future generation.

Student Gallery

Using the Student Gallery in the Classroom