cover of 2022 spring issue

An Elegy for my North Star

drawing of someone biking down hill

SOFIA RODRIGO
My grandmother was a woman in the boldest sense of the word. She was fiery and strong, but also caring and selfless. She was Britney Spears CD’s playing in a little red car so old I didn’t think it would make it out of the driveway, but I liked to think it ran on her magic alone. She was breakfast in bed and Saturday morning cartoons I wasn’t allowed to watch at home. She was my North Star, promising me I could always find her by looking up at the sky. She was tough love; she taught me how to climb a tree but refused to help me get back down, claiming that one day she wouldn’t be here, and I’d need to be able to do things by myself….Continue Reading An Elegy for my North Star

The Ivory Tower

drawing of a house

THOMAS BRODEY
It’s not often that you want to escape something you love. And yet often, that’s how I feel about my alma mater. A liberal arts education is like nothing else in the world. Much like Rapunzel in her tower, we hear about the world outside, from a passing bird perhaps, or a glimpse of a far off land. We paint what we cannot see on the walls, and hone our minds and hands so that we can portray with perfect realism an image we have.
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An Alphabet of Film Studies Under Quarantine

YASMIN HAMILTON
B is for Barthes, Roland. In particular, his 1979 essay “Upon Leaving the Movie Theater,” my favorite piece of writing on the syllabus of my freshman year film studies course. Barthes explores the pre- and post-viewing condition of the movie-goer—what he calls the “cinematic condition.” He describes the condition of the viewer before seeing a movie in Freudian terms: as “pre-hypnotic,” the viewer having a “‘crepuscular reverie’” that draws them to submit themself to the “anonymous, indifferent cube of darkness” that films are (1)….Continue Reading An Alphabet of Film Studies Under Quarantine

The Art of Looking

DIEGO DUCKENFIELD-LOPEZ
I follow a mysterious woman draped in a navy-blue coat with a turquoise diamond pattern. The camera, like me, follows her steadfastly, focused on her hood, which bounces as she walks, until it falls off to reveal a messy bun of bright, blonde hair. She bolts towards the cliff, my heart matches her speed as she gets closer and closer without slowing down; I chase her desperately but the wind pushes me back…Continue Reading The Art of Looking