Virginia Bradford has been an INK editor for three years. She has a lot of hobbies, including editing, but also some of the following things.
This is my AP Studio Art concentration, which is a science fiction fashion photography series. I based it on 60's B-movies and used three models, Megan Bainbridge '19, Lela Lee '21, and Amelia Bradford '23 (my sister). I started it in January 2019 and finished it in April 2019.
A poem I wrote last year, in 2018, about an event that happened in 2015.
Caught up in a love affair with England,
She sees me for the second time right here,
As strangers, I see which aspects of hers
Have heightened, in the absence of myself.
Her voice is but a whisper, and I blink
She seems almost always nervous, I think.
How strange to me, that we once shared green tea
On a table, by the mall carousel.
Three years have passed, since last we thought we knew
Our lives would be "eternal", "unusual",
With him and England, she kept me a space,
Nurtured it like a garden, but slowly
Abandoned it, for England, she would say
Could build gardens and castles all day.
Various drawings I've done, and my Scholastic photo thrown in. From 2018 and 2019.
Stop-Motion, Video Editing, and Theater
A variation of movie-related projects. I did some paper animation for a NHD project on Igor Stravinsky, made a music video and another video, all from 2018. There is also a bit of my Hannah Dustin play this year and a little bit from when I was in A Winter's Tale. I haven't made a movie before.
A short story I wrote in March 2019.
Somehow I was able to catch a glimpse of him when he first arrived-- it was a regular night at the theater, and he arrived with the new troupe. I was doing my regular cleaning and straightening-out, sweeping backstage the dust into neat lines. Over the past few years of service, not entirely out of a need of money but also a private passion for the goings-on of that stage, I had earned some amount of respect, or at least a kind of resignation from the actors toward my existence.
It was a strange existence for myself, being a constant presence as well as an invisible one, leaving me to become a connoisseur of secrets. At the side of a room, looking down at the floor, or folding a costume dress that Mr. Jordan thought was too rough for his skin, I would hear an un-hushed conversation saying that so-and-so was deeply in love with so-and-so. And so-and-so loved another so-and-so, I knew, from another conversation.