Submissions are closed for this year. A winner and an honorable mention were chosen for each age division in the categories of writing and visual art.

Winners and honorable mentions will be on display at Portsmouth Historical Soceity, but you can also see and read them below!

2024 Winners

Visual Art, ages 7–10

Hamilton C.
Red Panda
Honorable Mention
Visual Art, ages 7–10
Inspired by: W. Simes Co. Portsmouth NH Stoneware by Jane Copp

Anora D.
Shapes in the Sunbeam
Visual Art, ages 7–10
Inspired by: Fan quilt, Rhoda Jane Fogg (Mrs. George Dana) Brown

Visual Art, ages 15–18

Isabella M.
Fairfield Gazebo
Honorable Mention
Visual Art, ages 15-18
Inspired by The Road from Portsmouth, Sarah Haven Foster

Creative Writing, ages 7–10

Ronan D.
“Sailing to Paradise”
Winner
Writing, ages 7–10
Inspired by: Immigrants Arrival by Marilene Sawaf

Our country’s been engulfed by war,
and we can’t take it anymore.
It was so scary that I wouldn’t dare leave my home,
as buildings crumbled just like Styrofoam.

We decided to flee
all the way out to sea.

For our poor home, things were going so sad,
And for leaving my friends behind, I feel so bad.
The sea seems endless, and we’ve been out here for days
under all the heat of the sun’s burning rays.
One unlucky night, we struggled to stay warm,
for lightning struck and rain fell during a horrible storm.
As I watch the happy, colorful fish,
to be happy at my new home is all that I wish.
At least I know at our new home, whatever we do or see,

we will be free!

One lucky day, we saw it, large and grand!
We had finally found land!

Anora D.
“The Wondrous Wedding Dress”
Honorable Mention
Writing, ages 7–10
Inspired by: Wedding dress belonging to Mary Ann Morrison

The wedding dress was a majestic white,
The presents all piled up were a beautiful sight.
The band’s sweet flute music played,
And in the wind, the bride’s veil swayed.
The bride showed excitement and joy on her face,
As she walked down the aisle wearing her dress made of lace.
The graceful flower girl wore a cheery smile,
As she dropped petals that spread throughout the aisle.
The ring bearer approached with the shiny golden rings
Fit for the fanciest of all queens and kings.
Two bridesmaids stood very still in a pose,
And the bride’s bouquet held a single red rose.
The happiness inside everyone started to bloom,
As the beautiful bride kissed the handsome groom.

Creative Writing, Ages 11–14

River M.
“Beaded Purse”
Winner
Writing, ages 11–14
Inspired by: Beaded bag, unidentified Haudenosaunee Confederacy (Iroquois) artist

I enjoyed visiting the Portsmouth Historical Society and their exhibits. I saw many interesting things, but the thing that spoke to me was the beaded purse.

I chose the beaded purse because it stood out from everything else. It had sparkly glass beads, lovely craftsmanship, and a large green leaf design on it. It was handmade in 1845. Women used it for bartering and carrying their belongings.

I wondered who carried the purse. Was it a rich woman? Or a poor woman? I wonder what the woman who carried this purse looked like and how she dressed.

I’ve seen some bead work that has been done in modern times but the beads are glued. Since they didn’t have that kind of glue back then, it would seem that they would have to sew each bead on individually. This must’ve taken a very long time to make. I admire their attention span, creativity, and skill.

I liked this piece so much because it had amazing rainbow colors, beautiful designs, and shows us a peek at the past!

Creative Writing, Ages 15–18

Rena E.
“The Tray”
Winner
Writing, ages 15–18
Inspired by: Tray, Celia Thaxter

My mother typically wore a pristine, ironed dress and her silver hair tied back in a ponytail. She always arrived at church early and kept her calendar in her pocket book. She was a relatively organized woman. Unfortunately, no one could say the same for her lake house. She was, for lack of better words, a hoarder. Every cabinet in every room was full. My sister and I dreaded bringing our children to the house because of the porcelain dolls lining the staircase, anticipating being knocked down.

In her will my mother left the house to her two daughters. We both knew it was time to clean it out, and I was always the more productive sister. Two days after the funeral I dried my tears and packed my car full of cardboard boxes and garbage bags. My mother’s door resisted as I pushed it open. Some of her clutter must have been blocking the entrance. I carried a single empty cardboard box and two trash bags with me. I started collecting the beach towels piled up against the door, thinking: One thing at a time.

The maze of purposeless objects shrunk as I put more in my trash bags. Most of her things could not be donated, they were too old or dirty. The only thing I had in my donation box so far was an unopened microwave box. The last room I needed to clear out was the living room. The room had a large window on one side. Walking in, I noticed the dust on the furniture, blowing it off as I took careful steps. A delicate tray stood on the wooden table below me. I had not noticed much of the little trinkets like this. My mom kept so many around the house that it was hard to notice them until most of them were gone. Peering down at the tray, I saw the cracks in the golden paint exposing the bare metal underneath. I plucked at the paint, peeling shards off and brushing them onto the floor. The window in front of me framed a picturesque scene of the sun setting over the water. Vibrant colors flooded the cloudless sky: shades of purple, my mother’s favorite color. As a child I believed that when people went to heaven God would let them paint the sky one last time. I do not believe in heaven anymore. Still, some part of me wondered if maybe this was my mom’s painting, her last goodbye to the world.

Barely taking my eyes off of the window for a moment, I rummaged through the heavy trash bag to find a painting kit I had picked up earlier. It was one of those little kits wrapped in plastic with tiny containers of each paint color. The plastic covering cracked as I ripped it open. It came with a canvas as well. Disregarding the canvas I glanced down again at the dusty table, noticing the tray. I dipped the flimsy paintbrush into the purple paint capsule and brushed it on the tray. I added more blue and red to perfectly match the colors I saw in front of me. Suddenly a flock of birds flew out in front of the window. There was a pair of birds standing to my right, one young and one old. Like a mother and daughter. They sat near the water watching the same sunset I was. I added the pair to the painting as well.

When I was finished with the tray I took it back to my car, watching the last bit of light fade into the lake through my rearview mirror. I threw the trash bags and donation box into the trunk. The tray sat on my passenger seat, paint still drying.

“I love you, mom,” I said.

Estella P.
“A Letter to a Friend”
Honorable Mention
Writing, ages 15–18
Inspired by: Sally Brewster’s shoe

Dear Elizabeth,

Hello, my dearest friend. Today was terribly busy. I awoke early this morning to sounds of shouting and running, which isn’t awful uncommon when we are expecting important guests, but this was a bit extreme. I had to wait such a long time for Missy, my maid, to come help dress me up, as even she was busy prettying up the tavern. I must’ve rang for her five times before she showed up to help, and, I’ll admit, tell me what all the fussing was about. She knows more about that sort of thing than I do, the workers are all terrible gossips, I love it.

As Missy laced me up, she told me the President, George Washington, was coming to visit Portsmouth! And, although at this point in the morning, we were unaware whether he would stay in our tavern, we wanted it to look its best, just in case!

Later in the day, after I did the best iteration of my morning routine I could, given the circumstances, I was told the President was about to arrive!! And he was staying at our tavern! (Despite it not being certain until now, everyone assumed he would stay with us. Our tavern is the nicest in town.) Missy helped clean me up before he arrived, I had to look perfect for the President!

We awaited his arrival with bated breath. His entrance was first announced by his servants, and he quickly followed. My father and brothers bowed as he came closer and my mother, sisters, and I curtsied likewise. However, he told us not to! He said he was just a regular man and we ought to treat him as such! And then, he invited us to the ball the mayor was throwing in his honor tonight! I WENT TO A BALL WITH THE PRESIDENT!!!!!!!! I still am in disbelief at what’s happened today.

After he said that, Missy whisked me upstairs to start preparing for the ball. She completely redid my hair, and took out my Sunday dress! After all that, when I had thought I was ready to go downstairs, my mother came in with an item I constantly covet, beautiful satin slippers. They’re European, and very expensive. They were given to me for my birthday earlier this year, but I can only wear them on the most special occasions. My mother says these shoes were so expensive, they have to last generations to get our moneys worth.

The ball was the most fun I’ve ever had! I danced and spun and felt like a princess. Portsmouth didn’t feel like Portsmouth, it felt romantic and bright in ways it never has before. I hope this feeling stays, it’s so wonderful. I never want this day to end.

Sadly, I fear I must bid you adieu. The first rays of sunlight are hesitantly approaching my window, which means I really ought to sleep.

Sincerely, your darling friend, Sally Brewster

Seth K.
“A Brilliant Light”
Honorable Mention
Writing, ages 15–18
Inspired by: Cane made of wood from the USS Constitution

“Batten down the hatches! I want all hands on deck!” the sea captain commanded. A blinding light flashed, and a crack louder than an explosion rang out. It could have been heard hundreds of miles away, on the mainland.

“Reef the Mainsail!” the captain shouted again. “We’re making it out of this storm. We’ve too much to lose on this ship to just drown!” The seamen scurried around the deck, tying ropes of sails down on the deck, trying to control Mother Nature’s wicked torment. A surge of water infiltrated the deck, launching a man skyborne. He wailed as he soared through the air. 

This was Peter’s third trip with the crew. He was fresh out of high school. He told the captain of his hopes, dreams, aspirations, and eagerness for the sea. The captain tries to maintain a strong leadership figure for his crewmates, but it is hard for him to deny the soft spot he had for the boy. Peter reminded the captain of himself when he was younger; excited, hardworking, and a little reckless at times. The captain’s jaw gaped as he watched his young prospect fly far over the ship. Suddenly, the storm paled.

As Peter flew through the air, time seemed to slow. The captain’s heart raced, and he shouted for the crew to try and spot where the boy might land. Milliseconds before Peter’s plunge into the dark, churning waters, a brilliant beam of light broke through the storm clouds. A strange hum filled the air. The crew shielded their eyes as the light enveloped Peter, suspending him inches above the water.

The light gently carried him back onto the deck, unharmed. The crew stared in disbelief as the storm began to calm, as though the mysterious light had tamed it. Still in shock, the captain approached Peter, who was equally bemused.

“Captain, what just happened?” Peter asked, his voice trembling.

“I don’t know, lad,” the captain replied, “but it seems you’ve been chosen for something far greater than this storm.”

Shaking off his shock, the captain quickly regained composure. “Men,” he started, “We need to get this ship back home. Secure the sails and set course!”

The crew, still stunned, snapped into action. They hoisted the mainsail, adjusted the rigging, and secured the deck. The captain returned to the helm and turned the wheel, steering the ship towards the distant shore. The mysterious light that saved Peter lingered in their minds, filling them with a sense of awe and determination.

The storm receded rapidly as if respecting the empyrean light. The once tumultuous sea calmed, and the ship sliced through the waves with ease. The crew worked diligently, their spirits lifted by the miracle they had just witnessed.

Still processing what had happened, Peter found himself hovering beside the captain. “Sir, what do you think that light was?”

The captain glanced at him, his eyes reflecting both wonder and uncertainty. “I can’t say for sure, Peter. But whatever it was, it saved you and gave us a chance to make it home. Let’s focus on getting this shipment back home. That’s our priority. Then we can try to understand what happened.”

Hours passed, and the coastline came into view. The familiar sight of the harbor brought a sigh of relief from the crew. As they approached the dock, the captain gave one final command.

“Prepare to dock!” He shouted. “Let’s bring her in smoothly, men.”

The crew expertly maneuvered the ship into the harbor. As they disembarked, the townsfolk gathered, eager for supplies and stories. The captain, Peter, and the crew recounted their harrowing experiences, leaving out no detail of the heavenly light.

Word quickly spread, and the tale became legendary. Scientists from the region visited to analyze the ship. Samples were taken, and tests were conducted, yet the mysterious light remained an unsolved enigma, a beacon of hope and mystery for the coming generations.

A silversmith found an odd energy imbued with some of the silver aboard. After profuse testing yielded inconclusive results, the silversmith molded the infused metal into a band and fixed it to a cane. He gifted the cane to the crew, a token of their resilience and divinity. Everyone on the crew unanimously agreed to grant it to Peter.

Having faced the sea’s fury and the wonder of the light, Peter knew his life had changed forever. He felt a deep sense of purpose and a connection to the sea that went beyond mere adventure. With the cane in one hand, the captain beside him, and crew at his back, he gazed over the calm waters, knowing his journey was just beginning, and the sea held many more secrets waiting to be discovered.

Our Young Artists Contest will be open next April with our 2025 Exhibition!