作者： mustard

Sam Johar, 17, Hunter College High School, New York, N.Y.

Sam Johar, 17, takes readers behind the scenes of Grand Central Terminal’s celestial ceiling.Credit...Zack DeZon for The New York Times

Any New Yorker walking into Grand Central Station’s main concourse will immediately encounter an unusual sight: gaggles of tourists, phones outstretched, for once looking up — a result of the sweeping gold lines and twinkling stars that adorn the ceiling, turning the terminal into a work of art.

Grand Central’s celestial ceiling is a rare New York City landmark appreciated by tourists and residents alike. The mural invites watching eyes to dart east to west across a tapestry of gold constellations, where many stars are real lights, casting a subtle glow around them. Tourists are often so full of wonder that they block the way of the poor New Yorker running for a Hudson Line Metro-North train (I may be speaking from experience).

Normally, I’m a typical New Yorker about tourists — vaguely fond, but prevailingly annoyed. Here, though, I understand — I’ve been to Grand Central more times than I can count and I still stop. I still take a picture, still find Orion and wish him well.

Grand Central Station’s ceiling is the image that the city shows the rest of the world: a gilded sky of constellations, a future-looking metropolis rising ever upward. Excelsior. However, this surface-level story is incomplete.

For starters, the constellations are wrong. When the mural was constructed in 1913, the astronomer Harold Jacoby consulted Bayer’s star atlas to create a diagram, which was projected onto the ceiling. In the process, the whole illustration was reversed, save Orion. Nobody is sure of the reason for this inconsistency, though it’s speculated that the artists wished to portray Orion facing Taurus.

A closer look at each constellation leads to an interesting discovery — the ceiling actually consists of small square boards, creating checkerboards behind each constellation. Why? It’s not the original. The constellations were originally painted directly onto the plaster ceiling, but, thanks to the leaky roof, the mural was damaged. Rather than restore it, the city covered it up with a less detailed copy.

Despite its history, Grand Central Station’s constellations are undeniably beautiful — the faces turned up in wonder speak for themselves. Ignored, the ruined artwork below wonders, “Did anyone consider the irony of an incorrect map in a train station?”

New York City’s Excelsior motto leaves no room for what we’ve left behind in our climb higher. We’ve tried to bury a darker version of our city to make room for a metropolis that is the nation’s cultural and commercial center. However, as a New Yorker still looking up at Grand Central’s constellations, I have to believe in both New Yorks. There may be a darker truth behind the panels, the constellations may be wrong, but the ceiling is unique in its flaws — acknowledging its history only makes its beauty more striking.

Audrey He, 17, Plano West Senior High School, Plano, Texas

Amid the oppressive heat of summer in a small New England mill town, a young mother and her teenage daughter have fractured. So begins the quietly enthralling saga that is “Amy and Isabelle,” Elizabeth Strout’s debut novel chronicling the forces of love, shame and youth.

Amy Goodrow is 15 when she meets Mr. Robertson, her new math teacher. To Amy, he is wonderfully novel (“‘Was it really Cheerios you wanted for breakfast this morning?’ he asks the class, ‘Or did you eat those Cheerios simply from habit? Because your mother told you to’”), charming and attentive. As the months pass Amy falls in love; slowly, Mr. Robertson reciprocates, crossing the line from affection to seduction.

All of this is unbeknown to Isabelle Goodrow, who works a mundane job as a secretary by day, returning to the home she shares with the daughter she grows more distant from every night (“‘It’s Yeats, Mom. Not Yeets,’” Amy tells her mother, who reels in humiliation: “Here was something new to fear — her daughter’s pity for her ignorance”). When Isabelle discovers Amy’s secret affair, the taut strings of their relationship snap.

“Amy and Isabelle” is not a typical narrative of sexual predation. Amy is her own person, a teenage girl desperate for self-possession (as most teenage girls are), and her relationship to Mr. Robertson is imbued with the thrilling passion of first love: she thinks of his “intimate, wonderful voice” as she does homework; she prepares herself to see him after school as if going on a date, pinching her cheeks in the mirror. It is twisted, taboo, wrong. But Strout writes with a potent compassion that makes it difficult not to empathize.

Yet the book is not really about Amy and Mr. Robertson. It is about the secrets kept between parent and child, the startling intimacy that lies beneath the ordinary, how we cling to wreckage in the wake of devastation.

The titular characters are often cruel (Amy grows annoyed simply at the way “her mother’s face was tilted on the end of her long neck, like some kind of garter snake”). But they are also loving, fierce and brilliant. One night, when Isabelle comes home and does not find Amy (who is still with Mr. Robertson), she fears Amy has been kidnapped: “She felt as though cold water were pouring through her arms, her legs. She went down the stairs, stumbling at the bottom, bracing herself against the wall. This isn’t happening, she thought. This isn’t happening.”

This, Strout reminds us, is what it is to be human.

“Amy and Isabelle” is a triumph, exploring the crevices of the heart, the faults of our interior terrains, with incredible tenderness and nuance.

Amy Liu, 17, Developing Virtue Secondary School, Ukiah, Calif.

“Samsara” interprets its titular Sanskrit word as “the never-ending turning of the wheel of life,” writes Amy Liu, 17.Credit...Internet Video Archive

Tibetan monks creating an intricate sand mandala. The wreckage of a young girl’s bedroom after Hurricane Katrina. Otherworldly Angolan waterfalls and hanging pigs slit in an assembly line — contrasting imagery is the driving force behind the intensely thought-provoking nonverbal documentary “Samsara,” the latest in Mark Magidson and Ron Fricke’s series of meditative films on the human experience.

Captured in 25 countries across five continents, the film interprets its titular Sanskrit word as the cycle of birth and death, the never-ending turning of the wheel of life. With no dialogue, no narration, and no specific social or political agenda, “Samsara” opens discussion on the countless dualities we grapple with every day. The hectic flow of train passengers and the stillness of natural rock formations, both captured in time-lapse; the unsettling mechanical whir of humanoids and the raw depth of a human face; dozens of children and adults scavenging through mountainous dumps of fetid waste and hundreds of inmates performing an energetic dance routine — “Samsara” takes away the clash within these dichotomies to showcase man in nature, the artificial and the natural, the beauty amid the ugly. The wonders, the horrors and the raw truths of the world are all there, in dazzling 8K HD clarity. What you make of them is up to you.

Even on the 10th anniversary of its release in the United States, the film remains a poignant reminder for us to pause in our constantly shifting lives and look around us. The awe surrounding the documentary’s aerial footage and exquisite time-lapse — captured by a camera specially designed by Fricke — may have lessened as drones are now widespread and time-lapse is incorporated into every phone camera. But the slow pans and close-up shots which linger for just a bit longer than is customary and comfortable leave you enough time to not only pause and soak in every detail but also to ask questions and to think. Why do we incessantly manufacture, consume, discard, manufacture, consume, discard? What keeps us going if everything we make or do will be lost to time? What does it mean to treasure the beautiful, the joyous and the vibrant in the face of inevitable disfiguration, destruction and death?

I could describe every scene, list every location, introduce every song in the stirring musical score that accompanies this masterful montage — and still, the film would be a fresh, eye-opening, and deeply resonant experience. Whether the scene is primeval and nostalgic or breathtakingly exotic, you will find a piece of yourself in it. Because more than anything, “Samsara” is about human interconnectedness, showing human nature as it truly is: beautiful, ugly and complex, but never alone.

Gabriel Kantor, 15, Jackson Hole High School, Jackson, Wyo.

You wake up from a 100-year sleep to discover a once-grand kingdom overtaken by nature after some great “calamity” occurred years ago. The camera pans out to unveil an enormous world teeming with ruins, shrines and hostile enemies. This is the great plateau. So great, in fact, that I initially mistook it to be the entire map — it was only one percent. The rest of the world? Snowy peaks, immense deserts, overgrown jungles, smoldering volcanoes and more. You name it, it’s probably there.

I was initially skeptical of how anyone could build a feature-packed game to fit such a large world, especially on something with hardware as limited as a Nintendo console. I was mistaken. The world of Breath of the Wild isn’t just filled, it’s overflowing.

There are eight diverse regions, six cities, four giant mechanical creatures (which you can explore), a treacherous castle and over 120 shrines. Wait, was that a dragon? You can climb any surface, paraglide from any point and even “shield-surf” down steep slopes. The most remarkable aspect, though, is that in the hourlong journey to traverse from one end of the map to the other, there’s not one loading screen, not one interruption from continuous gameplay. Furthermore, there are no restrictions to gameplay. If you wanted, you could finish the entire game in 30 minutes, or explore everything the world has to offer. Besides the main story line, players can tame horses, find Koroks (arguably the cutest creature in the game) or just take in the scenery. Even combat is open-ended. With an expendable weapon system, swords and arrows become rare commodities, forcing more creative decisions. Foes cannot only be taken out with swords and spears, but with bombs, boulders and even high-speed flying magnetic doors.

When you’re young, there’s a certain feeling when you finally reach the cookie jar and are rewarded with a sweet surprise; that’s Breath of the Wild. Whenever I discover some new game mechanic, hard-to-reach area or hidden secret, I feel the delight of a little kid. With little to no instructions, you’re encouraged to explore the world on your own, make your own discoveries and drive your own story. In my over 300 hours of gameplay, I have still to discover everything in the vast world of Hyrule. The plot isn’t perfect and the character design could use some work (I’m talking about you Bolson), but that becomes irrelevant when the player creates the plot. Thousands of video games have been released since Tennis for Two in 1958, but few of them have been open-world, let alone nonlinear. This confluence of openness, freedom and a constant state of discovery defines Breath of the Wild: a sweet treat for any gamer.

Chloe Shannon Wong, 16, Arcadia High School, Arcadia, Calif.

Chloe Shannon Wong, 16, reviewed the lunch at her school’s cafeteria.Credit...Alyssa Schukar for The New York Times

Plastic sporks, waxy red apples and pizza gleaming with enough oil to fill a small car: These are the signatures of Arcadia’s most bustling eatery. Few dining establishments are as benignly mediocre — or enjoy such astronomic popularity. Since August, I’ve eaten here daily, along with 2,000 other loyal customers. But what is it about these state-subsidized meals that leads teenagers to storm the halls at noon? What exactly is the secret to my high school cafeteria’s success?

On the first day of my junior year, I decided to answer that question myself. As a newly-minted upperclassman (short a year of actual school thanks to Covid), I didn’t want to graduate without ever eating in the cafeteria — that staple setting of angsty teen films. I was used to eating with friends in the library, and visited the cafeteria (nicknamed the Cafe) expecting to be repelled by its unrelenting din. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised. Though the Cafe is always busy, it boasts a spacious seating area — and in the back, an organized kitchen, replete with serving stations and fridges stocked with juice. If you have a calculus test fifth period, it’s a great place to fuel your brain with some last-minute carbs and protein. And the options are plentiful: On Wednesdays, the plat du jour is Buffalo wings; on Tuesdays, tacos paired with spaghetti. Monday’s pepperoni pizza is actually passable; the mystery meat with pineapple and brown sauce on Thursdays, less so.

While the menu changes at the Cafe, the service and ambience never do. The queue is often hundreds long, but thanks to a squad of brutally efficient lunch ladies and a rigid system of lines and ladling, you’ll receive your meal faster than at any Michelin-starred restaurant. The apple juice is always cold; the plastic tables, relatively gum-free. When there aren’t enough seats inside, diners spill out into the quad, where dozens of red lunch tables ensure that no customer is left standing. For 40 minutes Monday through Friday, the entire school is united by Go-Gurts, ketchup and Styrofoam trays. Such vitality is a welcome sight — especially after the eerie hush of quarantine.

Even the most consummate school lunch critic can’t deny the charm of my high school cafeteria, which lies not in its forgettable cuisine, but in the community it sustains without fail. It’s in the lunch ladies’ sweet reminders to “Grab an apple, honey!”; the rowdy laughter of the varsity football team; the sophomore couple declaring saccharine love over a shared plate of nuggets and fries. Every day, hundreds of friendships and connections blossom inside the Cafe. And these memories will continue to linger — long after the puddle of chocolate milk by the front door has dried.

你认为2000年代最具标志性的青少年电视剧有哪些？

高中舞会上最难播放的歌曲有哪些？

有哪些最优秀的当代小说，重新定义了经典作品？

参加“My List”比赛的2949名青少年对这些问题以及更多问题都有强烈看法，你可以在下面欣赏或反驳他们的一些选择。

既然这次挑战的乐趣一半来自于构思一个概念，我们希望你不仅欣赏我们11位获奖者的作品，还能浏览由亚军和荣誉提名提交的富有想象力的名单标题。

‘Thank U, Next’ … or Not? 5 Ariana Grande Songs to Describe YOUR Situationship Struggles

Are You Stalling Out Reading ‘The Power Broker’? Here Are 3 Ways to Get Yourself Back on Track.

3 Indie Songs to Convert a Classical Music Purist

4 Iconic Teen Dramas That Defined the 2000s

3 Novels That Reinvent the Classics — and Get Away With It

4 Middle-Seat-Approved Films to Catch on Your Next Flight

4 Gazes Into Paradoxical 19th-Century Paris

The 3 Worst Songs to Play at a School Dance

Think Your Monachopsis Is Unique? Here Are 4 Artists Who Disagree.

The Female Gaze: 3 Paintings by 3 Trailblazing Female Portraitists

The Great Pretend: A Review of 3 Overhyped Cultural Staples

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All Finalists

Winners

Finalists are listed in alphabetical order by the writer’s first name.

Aaron Wang, 16, Regis High School, New York, N.Y.: “4 Gazes Into Paradoxical 19th-Century Paris”

Carter Considine, 17, The Athenian School, Danville, Calif.: “The Female Gaze: 3 Paintings by Three Trailblazing Female Portraitists”

Emilia Lun, 16, Kantonsschule Ausserschwyz, Freienbach, Switzerland: “The Great Pretend: A Review of 3 Overhyped Cultural Staples”

Emily Hsia, 15, Arnold O. Beckman High School, Irvine, Calif.: “4 Iconic Teen Dramas That Defined the 2000s”

Lela Harkrader, 16, Duke Ellington School of the Arts, Washington, D.C.: “4 Middle Seat Approved Films to Catch on Your Next Flight”

Maeve Costello, 16, Rocky River High School, Rocky River, Ohio: “The 3 Worst Songs to Play at a School Dance”

Nisha Sriram, 16, CHIREC International School. Hyderabad, India: “3 Indie Songs to Convert a Classical Music Purist”

Rishi Janakiraman, 15, Stanford Online High School, Redwood City, Calif.: “3 Novels That Reinvent the Classics — and Get Away With It”

Riya Srivastav, 16, Cerritos High School, Cerritos, Calif.: “Thank U, Next … or Not? 5 Ariana Grande Songs to Describe YOUR Situationship Struggles”

Sofia Hesling, 17, Mayfield Senior School, Pasadena, Calif.: “Think Your Monachopsis Is Unique? Here Are 4 Artists Who Disagree.”

Zayden Li, 16, Horace Mann School, Bronx, N.Y.: “Are You Stalling Out Reading ‘The Power Broker’? Here Are 3 Ways to Get Yourself Back on Track.”

Runners-Up

Aanya Sharma, 13, The Cambridge High School, Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates: “The Red Carpet Looks That Changed Fashion Forever”

Alexander Yaitanes, 18, Novato High School, Novato, Calif.: “Four B Horror Movies That Are Better Than You Think”

Allison Quach, 15, Hunter College High School, New York, N.Y.: “4 Things You Should Always Have in Your Closet”

Anson Zhou, 16, Wuxi Luoshe Senior High School, Wuxi, China: “Three Immersive Works Redefine the Boundaries Between Humans and Technology”

Emma Schelldorf, 16, West Park High School, Roseville, Calif.: “Five Movies to Watch If You’re Questioning Your Sexuality or Gender”

Ethan Y. Chen, 13, Shanghai American School, Shanghai: “Shanghai Restaurants Even the Pickiest Eaters Will Love!”

Himahasini Jammli, 18, Kempner High School, Sugar Land, Texas: “Three TV Shows That Perfectly Capture the First-Generation American Experience”

Lola Glass, 16, Beacon High School, New York City, “Three Must-Play Nintendo Games That Will Even Get Your Mom Hooked”

Maya Berman, 14, Marblehead High School, Marblehead, Mass.: “5 Genres, 5 Albums, 5 Years”

Mumtaz Cooper, 16, Alexander Hamilton Preparatory Academy, Elizabeth, N.J.: “Exploring the Resilience of Palestinian Cuisine in Paterson, N.J.”

Sarina Marzbani, 16, Orange County School of the Arts, Santa Ana, Calif.: “Top 4 Songs for When You Want to Cry Like They Do in the Movies”

Yu Shiman, 17, Temasek Junior College, Singapore: “5 Works of Modern Fashion That Blur the Line Between Art and Absurdity”

Zachary Yuan, 15, Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass.: “Top Four Jazz Albums That Tell Stories Without Words”

Honorable Mentions

Addison G. Townson, 17, Glen Ridge High School, Glen Ridge, N.J.: “Top 3 Best Country Songs That Capture the Essence of a Road Trip Through Rural America”

Adya Anubhuti, 18, United World College South East Asia, Singapore: “Three Satirical Movies That Became Uncomfortably Real”

Christopher Escobar-Cruz, 18, Don Bosco Cristo Rey High School, Takoma Park, Md.: “Top Three Video Games That’ll Break Your Heart”

Devon Chatalas, 17, Francis W. Parker School, Chicago: “Three of the Best ‘Black Mirror’ Episodes If You Don’t Know Where to Start and Everyone Has Told You Not to Watch the First One”

Emma Luo, 13, Fresh Minds Academy, Richmond, British Columbia: “Four Rising Women Artists Every Swiftie Should Know, Who Are the Next Generation of Storytellers”

Ethan Scarpatto, 16, Alexander Hamilton Preparatory Academy, Elizabeth, N.J.: “Animes About High School Teen Life That Will Have You Rethinking How You View Social Outcasts”

Geneva Huang, 16, Mira Costa High School, Manhattan Beach, Calif.: “Exploring L.A.’s Metro: 5 Art Pieces Worth Stopping For”

Helena Tang, 17, Pymble Ladies College, Pymble, Australia: “How to Fake Deep Thoughts in a Café With These 5 Pretentious Books (No One Has to Know You Didn’t Finish Them)”

Jeffrey Liu, 14, Concord Academy, Concord, Mass.: “Mashups Are Marvelous”

Sarah Howell, 16, Aurora High School, Aurora, Ohio: “5 Famous Fashion Moments in Film”

Stella Summerfield, 15, Ann Richards School for Young Women Leaders, Austin, Texas: “Four Poems by Mary Oliver That Soften the World’s Edges”

Sydney Coley, 16, Canterbury High School, Fort Wayne, Ind.: “An Artwork, a Song and a Poem for People Who Experience Absent Fatherhood”

Zhaniya Zhandos, 17, Nazarbayev Intellectual School of Physics and Mathematics, Almaty, Kazakhstan: “Kazakhstan’s Wildest Art Forms: An Animal That Dances, a Grave That Sings, and a Rap Battle That Dates Back Centuries”

Zhifei Han, 16, Shenzhen College of International Education: “The Three Best Desserts in Fast Food Restaurants”

By Emilia Lun, 16, Kantonsschule Ausserschwyz, Freienbach, Switzerland

Emilia Lun, 16, thinks the Mona Lisa is one of three beloved cultural staples that “secretly deserve a little side-eye.”Credit...Christophe Ena/Associated Press

The whispers start, the expectations build, and the crowd leans in. Then BAM! It’s that moment when everyone nods in forced agreement, pretending to love the thing. Some cultural staples survive on pure hype. Are we scared of being judged? Or just suffering from FOMO? With honesty, skepticism, and a touch of rebellion, here’s my unapologetically biased review of three beloved things that secretly deserve a little side-eye.

The Mona Lisa (Art)

I stood in line at the Louvre, craning my neck for a glimpse. People jostled, cameras flashed, anticipation built. And then — there she was. Small. Fenced off. Looking like a perfectly fine painting that somehow tricked the world into obsession. Sure, it’s a masterpiece. Sure, she’s got that enigmatic smile. But after battling crowds and staring at her for a solid five seconds, I thought, This? This is the big deal?

Maybe it’s the centuries of hype, or maybe I just don’t get Renaissance art, but the Mona Lisa feels less like a mind-blowing cultural experience and more like a glorified scavenger hunt item. Find the painting. Take the photo. Pretend your life is changed. Meanwhile, the Winged Victory of Samothrace is chilling a few rooms away, radiating power and grace without unnecessary drama. Why isn’t she getting the same love?

Avocado Toast (Restaurants/Fashion Statement?)

I love a good avocado — especially before it turns brown in 0.2 seconds. It’s creamy, versatile, and guacamole-essential. But slap it on toast, drizzle some artisanal olive oil, and suddenly it’s a personality trait? And worse — fifteen dollars? For bread with a spread?

Avocado toast has become the ultimate brunch flex. There’s an unspoken rule that ordering it makes you trendy, healthy, and effortlessly cool — or at least, your Instagram followers will think so. Over the years, we’ve seen elevated versions: topped with chili flakes, poached eggs, edible flowers — whatever justifies the price. And yet, when my friends suggest brunch, I find myself ordering it again, because, well, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? If brunch were a performance, avocado toast would be the overpriced ticket to an average show.

Standing Ovations (Theater)

Picture this: You’re at a play. The lights go down. Everyone claps. Fair enough. But then, at the end, even if the show was fine at best, the entire audience suddenly leaps to their feet like they just witnessed Shakespeare reincarnated. Why? Peer pressure.

The social contract of standing ovations is real. I’ve clapped for performances where I didn’t even understand the plot, just to avoid looking like a soulless monster. Once, at a local production, my friend leaned over and whispered, “What’s happening?” I shrugged, stood up, and clapped along — because heaven forbid we be the only two people left sitting.

At this point, standing ovations feel obligatory. Was the acting good? Meh. Costumes decent? Sure. Did the audience still launch out of their seats as if spring-loaded? Absolutely. Honestly, the real standing ovation should go to the brave souls who dare to remain seated.

These cultural darlings prove one thing: Hype doesn’t always equal happiness. Sometimes, it’s okay to admit you’re unimpressed. So next time someone gushes over avocado toast, the Mona Lisa, or an automatic standing ovation, remember: It’s perfectly fine to say, I don’t get it. The crowd might judge you, but at least you’ll be the only one standing (or, in this case, sitting) in your truth.

By Carter Considine, 17, The Athenian School, Danville, Calif.

The national traveling exhibitions “Mary Cassatt at Work,” “Tamara de Lempicka,” and “Amy Sherald: American Sublime” converged across three San Francisco museums. This trifecta of pioneering women, often diminished or overlooked, refuses to be ignored.

“Too feminine.” “Frivolous.” “Bombastic.” Male critics have used these words to dismiss the works of Cassatt, Lempicka and Sherald. But such critiques reveal more about entrenched biases than the quality of the art. Now, on the 50th anniversary of Laura Mulvey coining the term “male gaze,” we are more ready than ever to celebrate its antithesis — the “female gaze.” These three artists embrace it wholeheartedly, offering us a way of looking that imbues female subjects with agency and allows them to exist as fully realized individuals.

1. “In the Loge” (1878) by Mary Cassatt

The painting depicts a woman at the theater, her gaze fixed on the stage through opera glasses. A man in a nearby box seat eyes her through his opera glasses, transfixed. It is striking how Cassatt renders this leering man with loose brushstrokes, de-emphasizing his agency. The image seems a perfect encapsulation of the female gaze — it is an independent woman, indifferent to the gaze of others, who Cassatt has chosen to bring into focus. She observes the performance with seriousness and curiosity in a laceless dress, culturally literate and engaged. As an outspoken suffragist, Cassatt makes a more overtly political statement with this painting than in her traditionally celebrated mother and child images.

2. “Jeune Fille en Vert” (1930-1931) by Tamara de Lempicka

Moving ahead two generations, Lempicka’s model, like Cassatt’s sitter, is a nameless high-society Parisian woman. She exudes Art Deco sophistication in a shiny dress and wide-brimmed hat. Her gaze is turned away from the viewer, dismissing our attention while fully in control of her ability to command desire. There is undeniable power in her presence — she is unapologetically herself and timelessly cool. If Cassatt’s subject is indifferent to onlookers, Lempicka’s doubles down defiantly on busting out of female norms. The asymmetry of the composition, its geometric facets and curvaceous subject, create a new swaggering 20th-century woman apart from her forebears. As a queer artist, Lempicka is expanding the boundaries of the female gaze to include a self-determined sultry power.

3. “A Midsummer Afternoon Dream” (2020) by Amy Sherald

Michelle Obama’s famous portraiture artist, Amy Sherald, once faced misguided criticism for rendering the first lady’s skin tone “too gray.” Witnessing the same en grisaille technique throughout her exhibit is transfixing, particularly in this work. The muted grayscale draws our eyes directly to the subject’s self-possessed demeanor. The near-life-sized subject leans against a pale yellow fixed-gear bicycle, living her best life in a playful, sun-drenched pastoral setting with sunflowers, a white picket fence, and comfy sneakers. Her “cool auntie” vibes — her ability to make even flower picking somehow glamorous — is a powerful pushback against chauvinism and racial stereotypes. This woman knows exactly how to make the most of leisure time. Having just bicycled in a long sundress, her handlebar basket laden with a small dog and wildflowers, she appears like a goddess from the perspective of any niece looking for permission to live by her own rules.

Trailblazers Cassatt, Lempicka and Sherald have redefined the female gaze in art. Their works challenge the dominant male perspective and offer a refreshing, essential alternative. In an era inundated with alpha male archetypes, each of these unapologetic visions reminds us of the richness of the female experience. Their daring artistry will next cast its gaze over Philadelphia (Cassatt), Houston (Lempicka) and New York City (Sherald).

By Sofia Hesling, 17, Mayfield Senior School, Pasadena, Calif.

Scarlett Johansson in “Lost in Translation.” Sofia Hesling, 17, calls the movie a “beautifully melancholic film that explores how isolating a foreign city can feel.”

Monachopsis. n.: The subtle but persistent sensation of being out of place, slightly uncomfortable in your own skin, feeling as though you watch life go by as an observer. Though the word itself sounds foreign, the concept perfectly encapsulates the emotion that all souls on this planet experience at some point in their life. In fact, this state is so common that it’s portrayed in many streams of media — paintings, film, music.

When your diagnosis is monachopsis, dive into these works to feel less alone.

“Kid A” — Radiohead (2000)

Radiohead’s Thom Yorke has definitely experienced the feeling of a world that’s slightly off, to an intense degree. Surreal and haunting, “Kid A” is saturated with cold alienation and detachment, and creates the feeling of walking alone through an empty city at night. Yorke’s distant, ghostlike vocals enhance the feeling. The ironically named first track, “Everything in Its Right Place,” opens with an eerie and off-putting synth line, followed by the repetitive chanting of the song’s title. It’s almost as if the narrator is trying to convince himself that he is not slowly losing his mind. The chaotic, empty tone of the album showcases a distorted reality where, if you’re experiencing monachopsis, you’ll feel all too at home.

“The Bell Jar” — Sylvia Plath (1963)

No stranger to the world of psychotic feelings and loneliness, Sylvia Plath’s writing perfectly encapsulates isolation. “The Bell Jar” follows the story of college student Esther Greenwood, a wannabe poet, driven slowly mad by her increasing sense of dissociation from her peers and the world at large, brought on by a struggle with her sense of self and duty. This stream of consciousness and dreamlike novel conveys the feeling of mental distance from the rest of the world. Plath’s genius creates an uncomfortable, painfully honest read and Esther Greenwood is the perfect companion to share your mal de vivre with.

“Lost in Translation” — Sofia Coppola (2003)

With muted tones and trance-like scenes, “Lost in Translation” is the story of two lonely souls adrift in Tokyo. This beautifully melancholic film that explores how isolating a foreign city can feel manages to perfectly replicate that inner sense of displacement. Bob and Charlotte — Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson — connect over their search for purpose and meaning in life, soothing any worries in the viewer that monachopsis is a solitary condition.

“Melancholy” — Edvard Munch (circa 1891)

There’s a good chance this painting bears an uncanny resemblance to your own dejected mentality. A lonely soul in the painting’s foreground stares contemplatively into the distance, seemingly lost in thought while people interact in the background. This contrast highlights the increased despondency created when those around you are connected and happy. Knowing that even celebrated artists like Munch experienced monachopsis might render your discomfort more palatable.

Intelligent and esoteric, these “detached” artists were lauded for their ability to convey the “outsider” human experience through art. Through their work we share the distant and the lonely, and the ups and downs of the human experience. In sharing their haunted journey, and in our realization of its centrality to what it is to be human, we can agree with American essayist Henry David Thoreau, who advised that the best thing one can do is “to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life” and own the monachopsis in all of us.

So step through the looking glass and find a piece of yourself within one of these works.

By Maeve Costello, 16, Rocky River High School, Rocky River, Ohio

High school dances are the time for partying with friends, finally making eye contact with that crush from third period, and hearing bad, overplayed music. Compiled here are three song choices that don’t belong on the playlist for any high school dance.

“Hotel Room Service” by Pitbull opens with Mr. Worldwide inviting us to meet him at the hotel room where we can bring our girlfriends and forget about our boyfriends. Although it’s a catchy song that I can practically hear my classmates shrieking in my ear right now, it’s a bit of a strange choice for a school dance. As much as we’d all like to be going to some elaborate after-party clad in our Dillard’s junior wear, we all know that nobody’s going to the “hotel, motel, Holiday Inn.” We’re all going back to a friend’s house where someone’s Mrs. George-esque mother will greet us at the front door and ask for all the “hot gossip” before we descend to the basement and eat the snacks that have been prepared for us while watching throwback episodes of Barbie’s Life in the Dreamhouse, the closest to any ritzy establishment any of us will ever get. Catchy, sure. But relatable? For high school students? Far from it.

Next, Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” has its nostalgia factor, one of the main reasons it is sure to appear on the set list for any wedding, dance, or other event involving an amateur DJ. But why is it so popular, especially for the dance floor? This song is completely un-danceable. As soon as anyone hears the opening strains of this mellow soft-rock hit, the excited bouncing up and down is sure to cease as everyone softly smiles and pretends to be happy to hear America’s unofficial national anthem. Optimists will try to raise the energy by shredding their vocal cords braying the lyrics, but now it’s not a dance. This is a group of 16-year-olds acting like someone’s drunk aunt at a wedding, clumsily attempting to mimic the horns in the background by shrieking “BOM BOM BOM.” This is no longer a high school dance. Instead, the party has taken on more of a depressing karaoke feel, ruining the rush of youthfulness with which the night began.

Finally, we have “Cha Cha Slide,” a one-hit-wonder by DJ Casper. In this hit from 2000, the singer commands the audience to take part in basic movements — a sobriety test set to a funky beat, if you will. This dance may have been cool at one point, but it is long past its heyday. Nowadays, this song only evokes a confused reaction from a teenage crowd, most unsure if it’s time to get funky (funky funky funky) or if it’s time to go to the bathroom and take a mirror selfie with the gals. The once lively dance floor becomes a puzzled mob, trying to decide if it’s cool or dorkish to clap, clap, clap their hands. Looking around the room, Cathy from AP Honors Advanced Academic Class is getting down with her bad self, cha-cha-ing real smooth, but the rest of us don’t know if we are to join Cathy, or stand here or go home or what, and now the refreshments line is too long.