Last month, Rivera was named one of three recipients of the inaugural Wagner Arts Fellowship, a new initiative recognizing socially engaged visual artists in Greater Boston. She joins visual activist and public historian L’Merchie Frazier and painter-sculptor Wen-ti Tsen in receiving the award, which includes a $75,000 unrestricted grant and access to supplemental professional development services such as financial planning, career consulting and legal support. Recipients are nominated anonymously by their peers, underscoring the respect and recognition they have earned among the artistic community. 

Rivera, who started teaching at Wellesley 16 years ago, highlighted how this unique opportunity can be transformational for an artist. “I think the most important thing about this fellowship is how it’s being done, also putting you in touch with professional consultants to make a sustainable practice. I’m discovering aspects of being an artist that I didn’t even know after being an artist for so many years.”

Drawing heavily from her upbringing in Chile and immigration experience to America, Rivera’s work explores themes of migration, displacement and belonging. 

“I started thinking of my awareness of art and culture. How was it built?” Rivera explained, “And it was built through a lot of information brought from the West, through colonization, mixing with what’s already there. And that was sort of like the thing that was creating my identity.” 

Distance from the influences constituting her identity allowed her to reflect on their scale, in turn appearing in her artwork. 

“I started to think about cultural migration from before the Spaniards arrived. In the continent we had influence from the Inca Empire and Mapuche people — all of these things created clashes and mixed different types of formations of identity. And then the influence of colonial, religious and Catholic imagery. So being [in Boston], I started looking at those influences and types of movements from a distance, and I started thinking about all of those moments at a global scale, and became really interested in displacement, migration and ideas of belonging and experiences of belonging, too.”

In an interview with The Wellesley News, Abigail Satinsky, Program Officer and Curator of Arts and Culture at the Wagner Foundation, spoke to what success looks like for the inaugural fellowship. To Satinsky, it’s about community and long-term impact: “[I hope] Boston is known for a place that supports its artists, and that when people come to come through town they see that there’s an active civic discourse that involves artists that are part of the conversation. And so in doing this, we hope to establish, you know, as an annual program that will continue into the future, that there will be more and more artists that see themselves as part of this cohort, that feel like that. This is a place that they can stay.”

The fellowship will culminate with the artists presenting their work at the MassArt Art Museum as part of an exhibition titled “GENERATIONS,” organized by the Wagner Foundation to coincide with the launch of the 2025 Boston Public Art Triennial, an ambitious citywide showcase of public art commissions. Running from May 22 to November 30, “GENERATIONS” will offer Boston residents the chance to engage with the fellows’ socially engaged pieces.

As for what to expect from Rivera? For her, support received from the Wagner Foundation has been a “big incentive to keep working and also expand the work outside of the studio.” Besides showing some other pieces that are relatively recent, she will be creating a completely new piece for the “GENERATIONS” exhibition. Here at Wellesley, we certainly cannot wait to see what’s in store.

Ivy Buck: How did the idea to make HARK! come about? 

Akasha Brahmbhatt: [In the winter] we all registered for Devising Theatre (THST 355), and we [the registered students] went in with the understanding that whatever came out of it would be the mainstage production. THST 355 has an open-ended schedule; we knew we would have show dates in April, and we knew the theme would be the environment or climate change, and we knew we would be the people to write, perform and design the play. But we didn’t know exactly what “HARK!” would look like. We started with various assignments and skits that we would write and eventually perform –– sometimes they would be only a few minutes long, sometimes it would be a movement piece [or] sometimes it would be a game.

Buck: What was the experience like of creating a show with all ages in mind? 

AB: This was something I had never done before, but it was really interesting because I got to tap into my inner child and remember the performances that I enjoyed as a kid, but most importantly decide what messages we wanted to send out into the world––especially in this day and age. There was a lot of pressure, but we did some workshops with the WCCC (Wellesley Community Children’s Center) and Wellesley Elementary School. 

Buck: Yes! I heard you got to perform in a school… 

AB: Yeah! We workshopped some of our pieces [for “HARK!”] there, and it was very formative; the kids were super responsive to what we had. We developed a song that framed the show, with the message “do I want to go outside?” and “what can I explore outside?” More of a question, than a statement, so it would hopefully spark some inspiration [amongst the kids.]

Buck: As an actor who has had previous experience doing scenic design for WCT, how did you envision this for “HARK”? 

AB: I got my inspiration from the Kennedy Center’s American College Theatre Festival in January. Actually…I was looking around the other students’ props and set poster boards, and one person’s props were made entirely out of cardboard. I was really inspired by that and brought the idea back to Wellesley. As we were developing the show, I thought it would be really cool to use recycled materials, and try to build a world as we build our show together. We got a bunch of cardboard from the dumpster and from each others’ delivered packages, and a lot of our set ended up being constructed from that cardboard. Throughout the process, when we were developing a narrative around a tree and rebuilding something as a community, we thought about rebuilding a tree in the center of our stage. We constructed boxes [to eventually form the tree] and as the show progresses, our props fill these boxes to create a “patchwork quilt” situation at the end. 

Buck: As you approach graduation, how do you think this experience of acting, producing and set-designing all at once will serve your future interests? 

AB: As someone who would love to have a career doing something creative, this has been a more valuable experience to conclude my Wellesley College Theatre education than a traditional scripted play, because I got to tap into all of my [theatrical] training. To create something from scratch is really incredible, it was a feeling I will take with me no matter what career I have or what I do after Wellesley. It’s been awesome to see all of these skills come together to create something out of nothing, with primarily a six-person team. It’s really inspiring! 

Buck: Describe “HARK” in five words or less…

AB: Hilarious. Adventure. Really. Killer. Exclamation point!

A surprise to many who may know him only from television, Keery’s music career did not start with ‘becoming’ Djo, or even as an actor on Netflix. He was originally the guitarist for the “Post Animal” rock band from 2014 to 2019, but decided to leave the band due to his acting commitments with “Stranger Things.” Keery continued his career as a solo indie rock artist while acting. He released his first official album, “Twenty Twenty” (2019) featuring 12 songs, including “Chateau (Feel Alright),” which drew many of his current fans into what is often referred to as ‘retro psychedelia meets modern indie rock.’ His songs often explore the themes of personal transformation and reflections on identity, and have been described by reviewers as a “nostalgic and retro synth-pop style that transports you into another realm of funk.” His newest releases explore similar themes but his style has transitioned more upbeat compared to “Tentpole Shangrila” and “Roddy” from his “Twenty Twenty” album. Although it might sound different from his previous albums, his music still has a retro charm. 

During the release of his debut album, Keery performed six concerts, many of which occurred during music festivals, including Lollapalooza and the Boston Callings Festival. Djo reappeared at the end of January 2025 for a surprise show in New York City, where he teased his newest release, “Basic Being Basic” from the Crux album, as well as several other songs from “Decide” and “Twenty Twenty” albums.

Djo’s “The Back on You” World Tour started on Feb. 6 in Auckland, New Zealand, and will end in Amsterdam in June after a North American loop. He will perform in Boston on May 2 with his old bandmates from “Post Animal,” who will open the show at Roadrunner. Fans should expect an exciting mix of his older music and some songs from his newest album. Although Djo’s presale and general admission tickets are sold out, resale tickets are still available for a relatively reasonable price.

Contact the editors responsible for this story: Ivy Buck, Anabelle Meyers

“The White Lotus” is one of HBO’s biggest hits and Emmy nomination-earners, and after originally being greenlit for a miniseries run in 2020, it blossomed into a multi-season anthology series. Self-described as a “black comedy drama,” “The White Lotus” packs each seasons’ respective figures into the resort at the chosen vacation destination, and lets them run wild. Over the years, we’ve seen under-the-counter drug deals in Hawaii, Jennifer Coolidge falling overboard in Italy (“these gays, they’re trying to murder me!”) and apparently now, a weed-addled Rick, played by Walton Goggins, setting a plethora of venomous snakes loose in Thailand. 

Each episode escalates the rising tension between wealthy guests at the White Lotus resorts. As the story progresses, we learn that each “group” of guests has more in common with each other than meets the eye, and eventually we become privy to dark secrets, class inequality and immorality abounds. However, “The White Lotus” adopts an abnormally slow pace for a show averaging only eight episodes per season. This is its greatest skill, and also its greatest source of criticism from fans and reviewers alike. 

If what I saw on X in the weeks since the third season’s premiere of “The White Lotus” is anything to go by, fans are either bored with the creeping pace of the season so far, or frustrated with said bored people for not understanding how the show “works.” “Nothing happened this episode,” read a post in response to the newly-released third episode. “Average White Lotus episode,” read another. “Each character has their own conflicts and we’re seeing this develop,” responded someone else. “What are [you] expecting? This is the standard.” 

Television with sharp social commentary often produces such dividing lines; those eager to critically dissect each and every moment seethe at those who express their emotional reactions at face value. In the case of “The White Lotus,” both are valid: the show exists to absorb the viewer in its universe, and also push them to analyze what they’re seeing. The writing is so meticulously crafted that viewers often receive very little “action” to dissect, and analysis drifts to the minute details: a glance between two characters, a moment’s conversation, or telling body language. Will Belinda connect Greg to the death of his ex-wife, Tanya? Will Laurie confront Kate over her vote for Trump? Does Rick secretly despise Chelsea? (Don’t worry about not knowing each character. Each of them embodies an archetype of someone we probably know in our own lives, anyway). 

It takes far more than an episode –– maybe even an entire season –– to get an answer to any of these questions, and that is the ultimate test of “The White Lotus:” to see if we have the attention span to stick around. In an age where short-form TikTok content dominates attention spans and splices them in half, “The White Lotus” succeeds on its long-form subtlety, forcing viewers to pay attention if they want any sense of what’s going on. The pace may drag, but it also serves to build eerie anticipation –– for you, and for each character whose turning point lies just out of reach. 

Contact the editors responsible for this article: Norah Catlin, Anabelle Meyers 

First introduced in March 2022, Wellesley Drag quickly became a campus staple. The student-led event founded by Ayelet Kaminer ’25, gives students a chance to adopt a drag persona and perform for their fellow sibs, making a home for itself in Claflin Hall’s basement. Wellesley Drag proudly describes itself as “an independent drag collective for queers, dykes, fags, freaks, sluts, haters, whores, and you.” Acts have ranged from drag king lip-syncs to burlesque routines and everything in between, giving rise to new campus celebrities with clever monikers like “Dickless Van Dyke” and “Ellen DeGenderless.”

Despite innumerable administrative roadblocks, Drag reached a peak in attendance and recognition during the 2023-24 academic year. However, due to ongoing renovations and many of the collective’s original members graduating, going abroad or stepping back, the organization did not hold an event for the entirety of the Fall 2024 semester. 

Thankfully, Drag’s hiatus came to an end when Millie Auslender ’27 and Destiny Eversole ’27 rose to the occasion. “I really wanted [drag] to be back,” Eversole told me. “And it felt like if I didn’t help bring it back, it just wouldn’t happen.” Auslender nodded in agreement, adding, “I remember being at my first Drag and thinking ‘I wanna do that one day.’” 

Auslender, who directed Wellelsey’s production of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” this fall, said, “I think through Rocky and also just being involved in the queer scene at Wellesley, people were talking about it a lot around me and I was like ‘hell yeah, I wanna help.’” 

Auslender and Eversole were by no means alone in this endeavor –– there were many people who helped them plan and execute the return of Wellesley Drag, from seasoned performers to TZE members who helped them secure the space. In particular, they expressed gratitude to Kaminer, Drag’s former producer and host. 

“They helped out a lot, especially with giving tips about how they’ve done it in the past,” Eversole stated. In terms of carrying on Kaminer’s legacy, Auslender told me that she feels “honored.” 

“I think with a lot of other people, stepping up to such a big plate could have been so much more daunting than it was, but Ayelet was so supportive in wanting other people to carry this on… and they want to see fresh ideas, they’re not like ‘no, you have to do it my way,’ they’re like ‘oh, I love the changes you’ve make, I love your vision.’ It’s just really nice to have that support from the founding member throughout the whole process.”

Even with the introduction of new leaders, fresh energy and a new location, Saturday’s performance had many of the qualities and traditions which have made it such a beloved hallmark of campus culture. Audience members gleefully participated in arm-wrestling, a lip-sync battle and a push-up contest. Both Auslender and Eversole performed, as a juggling clown and a slutty Ghostbuster, respectively. 

“I think it’s important for students to have fun and be silly. A lot of people know me just from Senate, or just from class — but that’s not who I am, fully. There’s also the part of me that will shake ass to the ‘Ghostbusters’ song, and I think having that layer of personality just makes everyone on campus seem more approachable and makes [Wellesley] feel more like a community,” Eversole said.

Other highlights of the evening included a tribute to Lady Gaga’s venerable 2009 VMA’s performance of “Paparazzi,” a lipsync to Chappell Roan’s unreleased femme-top anthem “The Giver,” and a drag-king burlesque performance to Steely Dan’s “Dirty Work” –– featuring a strap-on reveal, naturally.

“I think that especially now, when there’s so many restrictions on community spaces at Wellesley and lack of places where students can come together and be authentically themselves, it’s really important to have Drag as a place where students can do that. It’s a very accepting, very queer place where you can come and be yourself and not be judged for it,” Eversole remarked. Auslender added, “I think that’s something that does really lack at Wellesley –– third spaces in general… I think it’s a really important way for people to let loose.”

As restrictions on drag performances and trans existence have increased nationwide under the current Trump administration, the organizers and performers of Wellesley Drag feel the event more essential than ever. 

“Especially in the current political climate, it’s very important for a school like Wellesley especially to have a space on campus that is explicitly queer… without regard for all the shit Trump’s doing right now. There’s really not a lot of spaces off campus where people can feel 100% comfortable being themselves, so creating that space on campus is very important. If nothing else, just to set the precedent that queer and trans people deserve to live and have fun,” Eversole asserted.

Fortunately, the future of Wellesley Drag is in good hands. “It’s about freedom, it’s about community, and I’m really happy to be a part of that,” Auslender said. To aspiring performers, Auslender and Eversole impart the following advice: “Just do it. Get your ass on stage and have fun with it! It’s not that serious.”

If you missed Valentine’s Drag, do not despair –– the collective will be back later this semester. 

Contact the editors responsible for this article: Ivy Buck, Anabelle Meyers

While certainly fascinated by AI (who isn’t?), these professors were all humanists and creatives, and their research focused primarily on narrative as the key to understanding human behavior and connection. The professors included Anne Brubaker, senior lecturer in the Writing Program at Wellesley College, who researches American literature through the lens of science, technology and gender studies; Jonathan Adler at Olin College, who explores storytelling in the domain of social science; and his colleague Gillian Epstein who helps people harness the power of narrative to communicate in their own unique ways. Additionally there was Beth Wynstra who teaches performance and public speaking at Babson, and Kristi Girdharry, also at Babson, who researches storytelling in community spaces and archives. 

Girdharry opened with a brief introduction to her academic cohort about how they developed the idea for the event, which grew from an ongoing collaboration between these five professors. Friday’s workshop marked their first in-person event, as well as the group’s first foray into exploring AI. Inspired by Charles Yu’s short story, “Systems,” the group hoped to create a collective story with the help of AI, with all of us gathered at the event as authors. Girdharry acknowledged an important question, now at the forefront of my mind: if storytelling is such a human experience, why are they bringing in AI?

“We’re exploring AI as an idea generator for further human connection,” Girdharry said. “We don’t know unless we try, right? It’s very experimental. You have front row seats to something brand new.” 

Participants were asked to come up with questions to search, effectively replicating the processes AI undergoes when it is given a question: chiefly, making connections between separate pieces of information in order to come up with a coherent answer. 

After the group reflected on these exercises and how they impacted our thinking on AI and storytelling, the crowd trickled out of the room. My group and I stayed behind, continuing our conversation about AI and how our institutions have been acknowledging this innovative technology in various ways. 

There are, however, aspects of AI which went unmentioned; the professors leading the workshop did not leave room to discuss, say, AI’s extreme demands on natural resources or concerns regarding plagiarism and misinformation presented by models such as ChatGPT. Despite these concerns, I applaud the approach taken by the professors leading this workshop, focusing on each individual’s agency as a storyteller and our unique contributions to the systems we are both a part of and witness to, as Yu explores in his story for the “New York Times Magazine.”

If we are to integrate AI into our practices as writers, humanists, and storytellers, the boundaries need to be clear.  Although I would have appreciated a more direct statement from the Babson, Olin, Wellesley (Babson, Olin, Wellesley (BOW) professors on where those boundaries should lie, we must acknowledge that they, too, are still figuring this out. The most important thing is remaining open to exploring this innovation, while also practicing healthy criticism of a technology which we seem to be growing reliant on.

Contact the editors responsible for this article: Anabelle Meyers, Ivy Buck

A correction was made on Feb. 10, 2025: An earlier version of this article misidentified Jonathan Adler as a visiting lecturer at Wellesley this year. He is a Professor of Psychology at Olin and the Mary L. Cornille Distinguished Scholar in Residence at Wellesley this year.

Despite intermittent reminders to donate, this year’s Grammy Awards still delivered on its promise to be the industry’s biggest night of the year. In arguably the biggest story of the night, Beyoncé finally won Album of the Year for “Cowboy Carter” after enduring countless snubs throughout her two-decade solo career. She also took home the award for Best Country Album, making history as the first Black woman to win in any country category since the Pointer Sisters in 1974. Adding these wins to the tally, she remains the most-awarded artist in Grammys history with an astonishing 35 awards. 

Doechii’s acceptance of the Best Rap Album Award for “Alligator Bites Never Heal,” which Pitchfork described as “reprising her playful and melodic sides without skimping on hard-hitting hip-hop,” cemented her place in history as only the third woman to win the award. Her heartfelt speech spoke to Black women and girls watching at home: “Don’t allow anybody to project any stereotypes on you that tell you that you can’t be here, that you’re too dark or that you’re not smart enough or that you’re too dramatic or you’re too loud. You are exactly who you need to be, to be right where you are and I’m a testimony.”

Another powerful acceptance speech was Chappell Roan’s, who implored major labels to offer artists a livable wage and healthcare after she was awarded Best New Artist. Following a flamboyant, rodeo-clown-inspired performance of “Pink Pony Club,” the very song that Roan’s former label Atlantic Records discouraged the release of, she shared her experience of being dropped by her former label and struggling with her mental health. “Labels,” she said, “we got you, but do you got us?” 

The biggest loser of the night was Drake, who wasn’t even in attendance. Kendrick Lamar’s “Not Like Us,” the diss track destroying Drake’s reputation and dominating pop culture since its release in May, became the most awarded rap song in Grammys history by sweeping five categories on Sunday, most notably Record of the Year and Song of the Year. If rumors are true, this No. 1 smash hit will be featured when Lamar headlines the Super Bowl Halftime Show in New Orleans later this week.

Contact the editor responsible for this article: Anabelle Meyers

It’s no secret that over the course of her nearly 20-year career, Lady Gaga has perfected the art of creating entire visionary universes for each of her albums. Fans (“Little Monsters”) danced underage in gay bars for “The Fame” and “The Fame Monster,” wrapped pride flags and medieval chains around shoulders for “Born This Way,” screamed in the face of unimpressed critics for “ARTPOP,” cried country tears for “Joanne,” boarded hot pink flights to outer space for “Chromatica,” and for “MAYHEM,” who knows? But if the “Abracadabra” video –– co-directed by Parris Goebel, Bethany Vargas, and Gaga herself –– gives us any hint, it’s to get a headstart on any and all caffeine consumption. 

Arguably the highest-energy club anthem Gaga has released in over a decade (except perhaps “Stupid Love” or “Rain on Me,” the releases of which were thwarted by the COVID-19 pandemic), “Abracadabra” is a nearly-monochromatic, vaguely-Catholic, and absolutely Camp dance battle to the death between the lightest and darkest parts of Gaga herself.

“Mayhem is utter chaos!” Gaga told Lotte Jeffs for her cover feature in Elle last month. “[It] just felt good to me. It sounds good. It breaks a lot of rules and has a lot of fun.” 

‘“Good”’ is perhaps an understatement, but ‘“chaos”’ hits the bullseye. Over the course of four and a half minutes, Gaga treats viewers strapped in for “Abracadabra” to choreography reminiscent of “Judas” and “Bad Romance”; 2010s Gaga classics which combine heavy beats, haunting and sometimes operatic vocals, and dance of the highest queer standard. Yet along with multiple homages to prior eras of her artistry, “Abracadabra” offers something new for newborn and ancient fans alike: an evolving and thriving Lady Gaga who is the happiest and healthiest she’s been in years. Newly married to Harvard-educated tech investor Michael Polansky, Gaga expressed in Elle her love for her current life, and to the music which surrounds and sustains it.

“I’m so grateful,” she said. “Because I found a sense of happiness and joy that is true to me. The chaos I thought was long gone is fully intact and ready to greet me whenever I’d like. Part of the message of [MAYHEM] is that your demons are with you in the beginning and they are with you in the end, and I don’t mean it in a bleak way. Maybe we can make friends sooner with this reality instead of running all the time.” 

The music video for MAYHEM’s lead single “Disease,” released in October 2024, saw Gaga sprinting away from several iterations of partially demonic Gaga clones. By the end, it’s unclear if she makes it out alive. In “Ab

racadabra” however, Gaga looks the “Lady in Red,” her alter ego, right in the eye. Leaning on her army of angel-esque bodies for support, the Gaga in “Abracadabra” is defiant to the end, yes, but also, perhaps a bit more brave. 

“MAYHEM” is set to release worldwide on March 7. Buckle up, Little Monsters.

Contact the editor responsible for this story: Norah Catlin 

As much as we joke about living in a Wellesley “bubble,” such an isolated existence truly does exist when it comes to politics. A recent Wellesley News poll found that nearly 90% of students voted for Harris, clearly illustrating the campus’ staggeringly blue majority. Consequently, it is easy to believe that most Americans hold the same beliefs as us because we are constantly reinforced by a campus of students who do. In the week leading up to the election, there was a pervasive hope so tangible that it seemed counterintuitive for Kamala to lose. How could she when our school championed her candidacy so strongly? Surely the rest of Massachusetts would agree and, even if it was marginally close, so too would America. Only in retrospect can I see the error of these ideas; my consumption of political one-sidedness led to a disastrous oversight on where the rest of the country, and even my home state of Arizona, stood; in the end, they both came up Republican.

The Wellesley “bubble” is a beautiful place to purposefully engage with like-minded individuals in order to catalyze social change, but it is not reflective of the world beyond campus. This is a harsh reality we must reckon with to stay politically informed, and, much more importantly, engaged. Complacency due a perceived political unity poses a threat to democracy when citizens fail, or are unable, to participate in the election process. Awareness of the country’s enduring party split is essential in reminding those disengaged that their vote and voice matters; there is no democracy if half the country doesn’t participate. The revival of a Republican student organization on campus is one way in which productive political discourse could be encouraged. Perhaps debates about prevalent topics could be held between the Republican and Democratic groups, leading students of both parties to engage with the others’ views. Individually, we can also make an active effort to consume media from all sides of politics, such as podcasts that cover both Democratic and Republican current events, publications by a party we may not personally align with, or discussions between politicians of opposing viewpoints. Both of these initiatives would ensure that the Wellesley “bubble” doesn’t remove us too far from the reality of America’s political climate by reintroducing the presence of Republican ideals. Although engaging with these ideas could be argued as legitimizing them, which some Ddemocrats likely wish to avoid, political discourse is an opportunity to evaluate the extent to which ideological beliefs are rooted in logical justifications. Engaging with opposing viewpoints not only broadens our understanding of political beliefs but also strengthens our democratic system by ensuring that both ideas we agree and disagree with are thoughtfully assessed.

The apparent party unanimity felt at Wellesley can make it easy to disengage from politics under the assumption that your vote doesn’t matter. But as many of us so recently witnessed, election outcome predictions can be easily influenced by our surroundings, especially on Wellesley’s largely Democratic campus. To ensure that we remain politically literate and engaged, we must actively seek out diverse perspectives, challenging our own beliefs and broadening our understanding of the complexities that shape our national discourse. Ultimately, by confronting the nuances of this landscape and stepping beyond the echo chambers of our immediate environments, we can become more conscious participants in democracy.

In the 253 years since the Boston Massacre, political art has continued to have a large presence in the American public sphere. From Andy Warhol’s screen prints of the Birmingham Race Riots in 1964 to Tanekeya Word’s “We Were There. We Are Here. We Are In The Future.”–– a powerful defense of Black womens’ continuous but undercredited presence in the fight for equity in America –– art that responds to political injustice can often in-turn become a symbol for various movements seeking freedom from oppression. 

However, there is also value in turning towards any type of art –– strictly political or not –– during times of collective stress. In the hours, days, and now weeks since Donald Trump was announced to have won the 2024 Presidential Election, I have found myself with a reinvigorated desire to create art. At first, I wasn’t sure exactly why; in the depths of uncertainty and heartbreak I had expected to retreat into myself, as a possible defense against a political climate I am now terrified to exist within.

However, after the dust of seven red swing states and a shocking popular vote win began to settle –– though trust me, I’ll be reeling for quite a while –– the idea of creating something intentional with my hands became powerfully appealing. Not only can creating art ground oneself in the present moment, but it is a wholeheartedly radical act to continuously create, through whatever the medium may be, in a country where a majority of its voters currently support political agendas which seek to ban books, defund the arts and rewrite history. 

Of course, indulging in art for personal or political sake should be no substitute for political action which must, to some degree, operate at a level beyond the artistic. “White women, put down the knitting needles!” I heard someone on TikTok say in the days following the election, after scores of internet users took to their platforms to preach the importance of self-care and self-indulgence for those hurt by the election results. And I agree; turning towards art is not an excuse to become politically ignorant. But art is a tool and also a reprieve, to be used for both the political and personal. It is a privilege to have the ability to choose the latter, and often out of necessity we gravitate towards the former. Nonetheless, art has value during times of political chaos, even if just for a moment it clears the mind and brings inspiration, solace, or joy.

Heartbroken? Create. Angry? Create. Overjoyed? Create some more. Exhausted? Create slowly. Want to organize? Create with others. 

Create, create, create. 

Contact the editor responsible for this article: Norah Catlin