Honors independent study project
For this project, all of the honors students chose a different topic from American history, conducted research about it, and created a project for exhibition. I focused on Glen Canyon Dam, and specifically what the ideology of its creators was. The project ended with an exhibition at which we presented our essays, projects, and research.
Below are my documentation binder, final project, and poem. To view them in full screen, click the rectangle icon in the bottom right corner.
Below are my documentation binder, final project, and poem. To view them in full screen, click the rectangle icon in the bottom right corner.
Documentation binder
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Project Reflection
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Final project
Glen Canyon
What can you see when you stare In to a great chasm of reds, greys, and pinks, In to the eyes of the raging torrent below If you are looking through the blinds of a Sterile, clean, bright Office, half a world away? If you gaze in to the depths Looking only for anchor points, Foundations, and concrete works, Your eyes will not see Where they’re looking. A petroglyph here, A squirrel there, A gnarled tree, combing the air With dark fingers, Or a looming canyon wall, Stained red and black by eons in the elements. Insignificant, you say. Industrial power, Water for a nation, The advancement of a people, The development of an entire continent, These purposes rise Higher than the most lofty of summits, (Do they not?) But When the flowing waters of life are Cut, Severed By an impenetrable knife of concrete, When all of the little things wither and die, Is that not a death worthy of a funeral? When the petroglyph drowns in a reservoir of power, When the canyon wall is buried beneath layer after layer Of slowly settling sediment, When the river dies, A wilting plant spilling its lifeblood in to a power line, Should we not take notice? Maybe, in a different place and time, If you could clear your vision and see that canyon For what it really is, Feel the cool wind across your face, See the power in an unassuming rock carving, Understand the beauty of life in something as simple as a squirrel, Run your eyes over the massive edifice of stone, Maybe then you would hold a funeral of such proportions So as to give life where before you have brought only death, To see To understand And maybe to save. |