The Elevation Issue: Fall 2020 by The Prattler

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The

Prattler Fall

2020

Table of Contents COMMUNITY JUST MAKING: AN INTERVIEW WITH BRANDON FOUSHEE AND JOHN DENNISTON II - PAGE 6 Lucas MacCormack talks with Pratt artists Brandon Foushee and John Dennistion II about their new art installation, “Just Things,” their process and the friendship that helped make the entire exhibit possible. A LOOK AT PRATT’S LATINX ARTISTS - PAGE 10 Carly Tagen-Dye sheds light on the Latinx Student Alliance and chats with a few featured artists from their recent Instagram campaign about their work and experiences on campus.

THOUGHTS WINGS: A SHAKY FLIGHT- PAGE 16 Aidan Moyer finally throws the BritishAmerican rock band Wings into the spotlight, and shares his reasoning for creating a senior thesis centered around the musicians. PRATT ON THREE! - PAGE 20 Maddie Markley addresses what it’s like to be a student athlete at an art school, as well as how Pratt’s volleyball team has helped shape her into the player and person she is today.

FEATURE HOMESICK - PAGE 23 Amber Liu reflects on her and her peers’ experiences as international students in Trump’s America, and of the prejudices, challenges and moments of solace they’ve faced.

CULTURE A CLOCK WON’T CHANGE A CLIMATE - PAGE 26 Cassandra Bristow critiques the Climate Clock installation in Union Square, and digs deeper into how Pratt’s sustainability program can better educate students about the climate crisis. WOMEN’Z RIGHT’Z - PAGE 28 Camille Bavera expresses the importance of women’s rights and achievements in our everyday lives, as well as our role as the future generation in creating positive change within the movement. All articles will also be published on our website

Letter From the Editor Prattlers,

What do you think of when you hear the world elevation? This is a question we asked our writers earlier this semester, and one that’s surely been on many people’s minds as well. We’ve found a general answer by looking at what’s happening around us. Communicating and connecting with one another is a challenge these days. It’s hard to keep track of what’s going on around school and in the world without feeling overwhelmed. As a result, so much goes unnoticed. “The Elevation Issue” is our attempt to pay attention, and to uplift the voices of those we admire in the Pratt community and beyond. We have a wide variety of articles and interviews within these pages, highlighting everyone from our talented peers to political figures and obscure rock bands. We have personal testimonies that remind us of who is (and has always been) here, and that bring us closer to those doing amazing work during strange times. We learned a lot while editing, and hope you do the same while perusing this digital issue! As a publication, all of us here at The Prattler recognize our responsibility in sharing stories representative of our time and student body. With 2020 dwindling down, and a new, uncertain year on the horizon, we aim to continue elevating as best we can, and encourage you to reach out if you have something to share with us too. One of the greatest things we can do right now is show up for one another. So, with that in mind, be kind, and thank you for reading. Carly Tagen-Dye Editor-in-Chief

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Carly Tagen-Dye MANAGING EDITOR Nina Martinek

CREATIVE DIRECTORS Tien Servidio Jessica Tasmin ADVISORS Christopher Calderhead Eric Rosenblum

Cover by Jessica Tasmin prattleronline.com Instagram: @Prattler theprattler@gmail.com

community Just Making: An Interview with Brandon Foushee and John Denniston II LUCAS MACCORMACK

Photos courtesy of Brandon Foushee and John Denniston II

Since I’ve been staying in Massachusetts for the last few months, I planned a weekend trip to New York in midSeptember to see the collaborative photography and painting show Just Things at Pratt’s Lower ARC photo gallery. After spending two days trying to figure out how I’d get onto campus on such short notice, I was approved and slipped into the closed gallery to see the show. I went with one of the artists behind the show, photographer Brandon Foushee, who unlocked the doors, flicked the switch and shed light on the expansive 50+ piece exhibition he and John Denniston II

had put together. Brandon, a senior photography major at Pratt, had lived and breathed this exhibition for the past two months, alongside fellowcreator John, a senior painting major. The show starts with a wall of thirteen 8x10” hybrid experimentations titled “Image Feedback 1-13” presented in a checkerboard fashion, and made from darkroom paper exposure by Foushee and then painted over by Denniston. The exhibition continues with other works that give us a firm grasp onto a collage style of photos and paintings together on the same canvas. One of my favorite pieces, “Light Works #2” shows a downed and uprooted tree lying surrounded by a foggy mass of seemingly bleached canvas and

exposed photo paper. With these pieces that sit somewhere outside of either respective medium, the two prepare viewers for the conversation that is held throughout the exhibition: the relationship between painting and photography. Both Foushee and Denniston are artists who allow for the theoretical and the everyday to clash in their work, bringing together something that is greater than the sum of its parts. The two are deep thinkers on the nature of their craft, always searching for new perspectives and new angles to consider. After reflecting on the show as a whole, I wanted to sit down with them and engage in the conversations I was being led through in this exhibition. Once I was back in Massachusetts, the two joined me on a video call to share coffee and discuss their process. TO START OFF, WHAT INSPIRED THIS SHOW?

THAT’S NICE. HOW MANY STUDIO HOURS WOULD YOU SAY WENT INTO PREPARING THE SHOW? Deniston: I know the last week before the show was [comprised of] 14 hour days consecutively. [Add in] our own studio time…I’d say close to 100 hours, probably more. Foushee: We heard back that we got the show in late July and knew we wanted [it] to be late September. We had a solid two months to work, but we didn’t touch anything for that first month until [Pratt] opened because we needed those facilities. We only had, like, one month to make the pieces. Deniston: [Our conversations] set the groundwork for what we made and allowed us to work more seamlessly and effectively. There’s an aspect of [our] relationship in the way we work, so as far as time goes, I almost want to say it took the right amount of time. WAS THE ONE MONTH TIME CONSTRAINT PART OF THE PLAN TO BEGIN WITH? Foushee: The only thing built into the plan was [already knowing] we were going to need the school’s facilities. A lot of the show was a kind of call and response process where I would make one thing [and] John would respond to it, or vice versa. We tried to start out with the darkroom pieces, but after reaching out to see if I could use the darkroom, [the photo department] said I had to wait until the semester started. So we had two weeks in the beginning of “non-tangible” work. The piece “Light Works #4” and the

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Foushee: We bounced ideas [back and forth] because we always had long art talks where we just dove off the deep end. [The show] evolved from one of those talks, starting with the exhibition to the concept we have now of trying to bridge the gap between painting and photography. Deniston: Having a show [seemed] like the natural thing to do, given Brandon and I are so involved with each other’s perspectives. I would say things in regards to painting and Brandon would say things in regards to photography and we would compare the two naturally. We [just needed] to have a show about the things that we

talk about. It felt very organic.

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three columns titled “Free #1,” “Free #2,” and “Free #3” were all made in the last week. John had acquired all of those wood panels two weeks before the show. We knew we still needed to fill [gallery] space, but it didn’t feel cohesive without the super-clean staple pieces. Those two works are the best that we made. It was just both of us responding to what was there. It felt the most collaborative. Denniston: I agree. With these time constraints, I think we had amazing luck. [We also had] this relationship [with] free jazz. [We didn’t have] a foolproof plan; it was really just a hope for the best mindset. YOU MENTIONED FREE JAZZ, WHICH IS A STYLE OF JAZZ THAT WORKS TO STRIP AWAY ANY CONVENTIONS AT ALL. AFTER GOING TO THE SHOW, I CAN DEFINITELY SEE THE RELATIONSHIP. IT’S VERY ORGANIC, AND ONE CAN SEE YOUR DIFFERENT PERSONALITIES IN EACH WORK. COULD YOU TALK MORE ABOUT THIS RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE MUSIC AND THE WORK? HOW OFTEN WERE YOU PHYSICALLY WORKING TOGETHER?

Foushee: All the time we were in the studio together we had [free jazz] on. John and I [are] avid listeners. The complexities of free jazz [are incredible]. [It’s amazing] how you can tune your ear and listen and be able to see what each person is doing with each instrument. The best part [of] that genre for me is [that] in order to be okay with it, you have to be extremely open. So that’s the way I worked for the show. Both John and I were trying to be open with each other even if that [meant] shutting [an idea] down. We’d do

something and it [would fail] and we’d be like “Oh, we can still try and incorporate this.” It was just make, make, make, and pick and choose at the end. We were just so open to the idea that anything we touched could be considered. It was freeing to work [in a] way [that was] similar to the improvisation of free jazz. Denniston: That term Brandon used, “We were just making,” is a nice way to talk about our process. Brandon would send me what he was working on, and [it] would blow me away and get me excited. Our minds were engaged in this way almost 24/7. Foushee: It was seeing a crazy piece and being inspired to go and make a crazy piece. Denniston: It was us just trying to raise the bar for [the] both of us. It was like riding a bike; each of us had a foot on each pedal, and by the end, we were one body with two feet on the bike. WHY DO YOU FIND IT IMPORTANT TO BRING PAINTING AND PHOTOGRAPHY TOGETHER? Denniston: For me, it’s not something I feel the need to justify; it’s as important as doing any art. That goes along with our idea of the meaninglessness of distinguishing the two [mediums.] Like, Brandon also paints, and I also take pictures. We both have malleable practices. There’s no need to justify it, or there shouldn’t be. The show is an argument for that belief. We’re making “just things.” Foushee: The reason why we had Just Things as the title was to allude to [the idea of], “Here’s what we threw up on the walls; you guys have to actually

interact with it.” One of our motivations in conceiving this idea was [getting tired of being] part of a specific genre. At the end of the day, we’re all just making images. We don’t want genre to limit someone’s idea of what is on the wall. I think that people see [painting and photography] as so far apart that they can’t even come together, but I think they overlap. Ultimately, you’ve got to take work for what it is. Don’t limit the things you can do in any medium.

for sale publicly. We put a lot of time, effort and money into the show, so any sales are appreciated.

NOW THAT THE SHOW IS OVER, WHERE CAN PEOPLE FIND THE WORK? IS ANY OF IT FOR SALE? Denniston: Check out our website brandonfoushee.me. The catalogue section has all the prices; the secret password is “just-things.” Everything’s

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A Look at Pratt's

Latinx Artists

Though only two years old, the Latinx Student Alliance feels as if it’s been around for years. The Zoom meetings, held weekly every other Tuesday and Thursday, are full of camaraderie, even in the digital void. Current president Yessenia Sanchez utilizes time to catch up with students, talk about Latinx artists/creatives and cultivate a community as we move through a socially-distanced semester. “It’s always reassuring to find people who identify similarly to you,” Sanchez stated in a recent interview. “I’m just trying to make it easier for all the incoming Latinx students to find one another and connect.” Formed by Sanchez and former student Emma Vitoria in 2018, the LSA has been a source of solace for many students searching for a Latinx community at Pratt. The current pandemic has made connecting with others challenging, and like most clubs, the LSA has been getting creative to combat this. Last month was Latinx Heritage Month, and the club celebrated by using their Instagram to elevate art by Latinxidentifying students. Throughout the four weeks, they shared paintings, drawings and photographs in a successful campaign. The artwork

CARLY TAGEN-DYE

was later shared by Pratt Institute’s main Instagram account, as well as other departments, organizations and students campus-wide through stories and shoutouts. “It’s important to uplift and show our support for one another, especially as upcoming artists of color,” Sanchez continues. “Giving them the acknowledgement they deserve was the least we could do, and we plan to continue supporting them as much as we can throughout the year.” Though Latinx Heritage Month is technically over, these artists are still creating and still adamant about the importance of representation all year round. We had the chance to talk with a few featured students about their work, process and perspective on being a Latinx student at Pratt. Maribel Marmolejo Maribel Marmolejo, a third year BFA film major, is savvy in recording the moments many people would walk right past. Originally from Brooklyn, Marmolejo first became interested in film through her family.

“My brother and I would beg my mother to buy the bootleg DVDs by Flushing Broadway so we [could] watch them all day,” she recalls. “Our family bonded through movies. No one [was] arguing when we were watching a movie.” Though she cultivated an interest early on, it wasn’t until high school that Marmolejo began to realize a true passion for filmmaking. She attended the Downtown Community Television Center in Manhattan as a student, and worked under the guidance of professors who motivated her to share her work with the world. Since arriving at Pratt, however, Marmolejo has found many differences between New York public schools and the institution.

in Brooklyn. A recent series showcases residents around the city in the wake of COVID-19. Genuinity is an important part of her mission, especially when it pertains to current political and social issues. “My community is currently being displaced and that plays a huge role in my photography [and] the people I chose to capture pictures of,” Marmolejo states. “Gentrification is deadly...it’s taking over Bushwick. Sometimes I can’t even recognize it. With my camera, I have proof that we are, in fact, still here.” Capturing this now is essential in making sure these stories don’t get erased.

“I would see people that looked and spoke like me every morning [in high school, in] schools that were predominantly Black and Latinx,” Marmolejo says. “I felt like a complete outsider [at Pratt]...it felt like I had to be better, [that] I had to try twice as hard. It still feels like this.” She also stresses the importance of hiring more BIPOC professors, which would help other students as much as it has helped her.

Photo by Maribel Marmolejo

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This sense of isolation, along with other feelings, have stirred Marmolejo’s need to capture the world as she experiences it. Her work focuses on sharing her perspectives of her own life, both in her family or beyond. Photography is a favorite medium to explore. The subjects of Marmolejo’s photos range from relatives at home parties to people she meets around her neighborhood

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my history, my hardworking family, where I came from and the countless stories I come with,” she explains. “I am getting there slowly, but it’s the best feeling in the world.” Quincy Kmetz Quincy Kmetz, a senior BFA painting major, had always considered art to be nothing more than a hobby, something that she never believed she could pursue professionally. Despite praise from teachers and friends regarding her work, Kmetz took the office job route before attending Pratt. It was only later that she realized art was the right path for her.

Photo by Maribel Marmolejo Marmolejo is still hard at work as the semester wears on. One of her upcoming projects is a documentary about the daily struggles of New York City street vendors during the pandemic. Despite being a crucial component of local economies, these workers never seem to achieve basic rights to work, to paraphrase Marmolejo’s mission statement. The film will focus on obstacles like harsh working conditions and police brutality. More than anything, though, Marmolejo is dedicated to uplifting the voices of those who have been silenced for too long. “I am proud of my roots, how I speak, 12

“I had a natural tendency to do the opposite of what people told me,” she remembers. “[But] I realized what the rest of my life could look like if I didn’t make a decision. It’s probably the best decision I’ve made for myself.” Kmetz’ work features a wide range of topics from isolation to the experience of living in an expanding digital world. While she is usually an oil painter, Kmetz also experiments with different mediums. A charcoal series entitled “Lovers” tackles connection in the modern age, while other pieces focus on solitude and feeling isolated from others. “I’m thinking about friendship, I’m thinking about love,” Kmetz states. “Loneliness often goes hand in hand with that, [as] does rage and resentment. Sometimes it’s rage against others... rage against an unseeable force [or]

true self-aggression.” Kmetz’ most recent collection, “I Hear Rumors” is a painting series that speaks to the challenges voters are currently facing, like misinformation and a loss of individuality. Ever since learning of the FacebookCambridge Analytical scandal, Kmetz has become interested in exploring digitally spread lies in a visual way. The political climate today is divisive, and Kmetz understands that there can be an “endless search for an enemy” in people. This series, along with an upcoming collection of comic-book inspired

Art by Quincy Kmetz paintings about data manipulation, are a more approachable way of conversing about this topic. “I’m using this scale to humble the audience, [to say] ‘Listen up, this is important,” Kmetz says. “I don’t believe it’s my job as an artist to have answers. It’s my job to ask questions.” Kmetz feels she can’t speak to the experiences of every Latinx student at Pratt, and instead remarks that she is victimized by the institution as much as the next student. Nonetheless, Kmetz is adamant about making art school academics more inclusive and representative of its entire student body.

Art by Quincy Kmetz

“A place to start is with the academic catalog for History of Art and Design,” she states. “The 2020-2021 catalog does not have any Latin American or South American-specific history of 13

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art and design course(s). The power of education, especially access to history, can’t be underestimated in value.” Kmetz is looking forward to sharing her work with people in a physical space again someday. In the meantime, as long as the work is true to her beliefs, sharing via the internet will suffice. “I’ve been thinking about the place painting has as an antiquated medium in an expanding digital world,” she says. “I want to continue making work that engages my audience, and work that fulfills me.” Vivian Vazquez As a first year Communications Design student, Vivian Vazquez has been thrown into a strange situation for sure. This new mode of education hasn’t stopped her artistic motivations, however. Raised in a Mexican family, art was always something that Vazquez was drawn to, in one form or another. “My mom’s side consists of musical artists. Everyone from my abuelito down plays musical instruments, [and] were constantly singing and dancing every time I visited Mexico,” Vazquez says. Her mother, who studied architecture in college, heavily inspired Vazquez to pursue the visual arts, the only career field the latter could imagine for herself. (Her musical genes still remain, though. Vazquez states, “If times were more normal, you would hear me playing the ukulele or whatever instrument I could find around campus!”)

Art by Vivian Vazquez Working primarily with ink and marbling, Vazquez has since used her work to relay an important message. As someone who suffers from depression and anxiety, she began to notice how people within her community reacted to the illnesses in a negative way, perpetuating harmful stigma. “I realized that for students of color/ Latinx students with mental illnesses, we also have to deal with parents from a culture where mental illness doesn’t really ‘exist,’” Vazquez relays. “Unless they could see the injury or illness, you were making it all up. It’s become important to me to help other students in similar situations.”

Though Vazquez feels she hasn’t worked on a large-scale level to resolve these issues, her art portrays an insider’s view into mental illness in a way that feels monumental. The struggle is clear, and yet, Vazquez views each piece with a sense of hope in the distance. Normalizing the experience is the only way to move forward, both in the Latinx community and beyond. Her upcoming work continues to portray these themes. Vazquez feels they are a visual way to describe her mental headspace during particularly rough moments in her life.

Though her first year at Pratt is anything but typical, Vazquez feels there is much potential for students to learn about cultures outside of their own, whether in a physical or digital classroom. “I would enjoy having projects and courses that directly ask you to create work influenced by your own and each other’s cultures and identities,” Vazquez explains. “[One could] learn more than just general information about other countries in the world.” Challenging our understanding of one another is a staple of Vazquez’s mission. With these ideas, it’s clear that she has a promising road ahead. To keep in touch with the Latinx Student Alliance, follow them on Instagram (@ prattlatinx) or email them (latinx@pratt. edu) to be added to the club’s mailing list.

Art by Vivian Vazquez

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“Just by looking at them, I am reminded of where I once was and how far I have come,” she says. “I want to create work that evokes the unexplainable emotions those of us with mental illnesses feel but cannot express in words, and that inspires young people to pursue their hopes and motivations in spite of [them.]”

Thoughts

Wings: A Shaky As the second semester of senior thesis looms on the horizon, a stack of day-glo drawings grows taller while work hours stretch well into the early morning. Emails to press agents go unanswered, story points fail to click and frustration mounts. Sometimes, when ink runs low and my morale follows suit, I ask myself, why Wings? For context, Wings is the second-most popular band that Paul McCartney ever fronted (number one happens to be the most successful and wildly famous band of the twentieth century, the Beatles.) A question in this musical discourse tends to be, “Who cares about number two?” The history, discography and iconography (or lack thereof) of Wings tends to be revered only by the most diehard McCartney fans; even Sir Paul himself glosses over large swaths of their music. Naturally, this is the band I chose as the topic for my thesis: a 64-page graphic novel exploring the visual history of Paul’s number two band. Wings soundtracked my teenage years and became a model for finding success on a secondary track; through changes in my major, developments in my creative practice and ever-changing interpersonal relationships, Paul’s ability to adapt

Flight Aidan Moyer

Images by Aidan Moyer to working with new musicians cast him as my creative paragon. Linda McCartney similarly serves as a personal icon, as she halted her career in photography to learn how to sing and play keyboards literally on stage, maintained a “fuckyou” attitude in the face of sexism and took candid shots of the band that directly inspire my drawings. I only hope to capture some of that spirit, as well as my love for the tunes themselves. Admittedly, it’s been difficult to remain the chief Wings cheerleader throughout this process. McCartney’s gift for melody and his willingness to venture into oddball territory in his solo career has ensured Wings a spot in my heart and on my playlists for half a decade, but I can’t always say the same for my classmates. Sometimes, there are blank expressions from

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my twenty-something illustration peers when I discuss the band during a class, and even my parents, who are children of the seventies, are dumbfounded by my fascination with this obscure middle-of-the-road music. Wings wore gaudy outfits that lack the retrospective chic of the Beatles’ hippie wear, had horribly dated mullets and recorded a borderline unforgivable cover of “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

Thoughts

Somehow, it’s the passion of a select few who have kept the spark for this project going. People like 65-yearold Dan Ealey come to mind, who, as a long-haired nineteen-year-old, snuck onto the Nashville farm that Wings used as a rehearsal space and befriended the band. He lent his bass to Paul for a jam session, sold it for a newer model then spent his entire adult life searching for the long-lost bass before recovering it 42 years later. Dan was slated to talk to me on the phone for an hour and proceeded to spend nearly four more gushing about his almost 50-year-old adventure. Even the ex-members of the band have buoyed my interest in the project as I try to collect photos and interviews; guitar player Denny Laine was taken by a jacket I handcrafted to replicate Wings stagewear (lots of paint and rhinestones), and lead guitarist Laurence Juber spoke on how the band influenced the next generation of songwriters when his daughter wrote a Wings-esque piece for Harry Styles’ latest album.

Sometimes my project feels like an anachronism; the band’s story, however, contains similar gold nuggets of genre-bending and cross-cultural innovations. Many people (including John Lennon) wrote McCartney and Wings off as “granny music;” silly, substanceless love songs for teeny boppers. Without those silly love songs, though, I’d never have had the impetus to pick up a keyboard and start playing small, local gigs. I’d never have met a thriving community of fans ranging from young adults to senior citizens who share a love and appreciation for these records that would otherwise be gathering dust. Wings brought me great joy when no other music rang true. So, when people knock their music and mullets, I paraphrase Sir Paul himself: “What’s wrong with that? I’d like to know.”

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Pratt on Three! MADDIE MARKLEY Images by Maddie Markley

Fall of 2020 is my first season without volleyball in over eleven years. I began playing at the age of nine and quickly fell in love. Since then, the sport has consumed my life, and I can scarcely remember a time without it. I played on my high school varsity team for three years as well as competitive travelling ball for over five. Near the end of high school, I was recruited to play as a right side hitter for the Pratt Women’s team. I’ve enjoyed playing every fall and was devastated about the cancellation of my junior season; a result of the ongoing pandemic. It separated me from a program and a group of people that I hold very close to my heart. Pratt athletics is an unknown subject to many students. As art and design kids, we’re not supposed to be athletic, let alone dedicated to a sport. But the fact is, our athletics program offers seven competitive sports teams for roughly 175 athletes of all genders. We’ve 20

recently legitimized our program by becoming a part of the NCAA Division III organization in New York. We’re one of two NCAA qualified art and design schools in the nation (Academy of Art University is Division II). Our community is small and tight-knit. I can recognize a Pratt athlete almost anywhere on campus. We’re often seen in warmup gear or with our signature black athletics bag as we race to practice after an evening lecture. We all share a common understanding of what it’s like to manage a tight practice and studio schedule. The volleyball team, however, may be the most tight-knit group of them all. We’re often attributed to the likeness of a cult or sorority. On past teams, I’ve often been excluded and ignored. As an introverted athlete, it’s incredibly rare to find a team that brings you out of your shell. At Pratt, I’m loud, happy and positive when at practice. I danced with my teammates on our long bus rides to out-of-state tournaments and

screamed the lyrics of “Bohemian Rhapsody” at the top of my lungs. These people are my family and I always feel comfortable around them. In our 2019 season, the Pratt Women’s volleyball team broke school records. With our diverse and talented group of 22 girls, we won 20 matches and lost eight. We made it to the finals of the ACAA Conference Championships and maintained a 13-game winning streak throughout the season. We had much success and committed countless hours to the program, yet many of our classmates and professors remained oblivious to the fact that our athletic program even existed. Any attempt to gain support was met with disinterest from non-athletes. The PreGame Tailgate in our 2019 season (with free food and merchandise) offered hope with a decent turnout. Of course, the majority of our fans were fellow Pratt athletes. This is a testament to the community that Pratt Athletics fosters. As student athletes, we have to face the reality of playing a sport at an art school. A heavy workload often takes

priority. For me, it was never about the support. I thrive in this athletic program like I’ve never thrived before. In the past, I struggled with my mental fortitude in the game. I played on a wide variety of high-level teams where I was often overlooked due to my lack of consistency. I was always considered to have the “potential” to be a great player, yet my coaches never invested enough time in me. As a result, I spent many tournaments on the bench with shot confidence. When I arrived at Pratt my freshman year, I was nervous about playing, but was determined to show my team what I was capable of. My coach, Louis Sepulveda, gave me an opportunity that I needed, and I played in nearly every match of the season. In the end, I had accumulated a total of 190 kills and 58 service aces. I was awarded the title of Rookie of the Year for 2018. This was the first time I had been recognized for my commitment to volleyball in my entire life.

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thoughts

As I reflect on my experience as a Pratt athlete in the wake of a pandemic, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I’ve spent the last month reclaiming my love of volleyball at home in Minnesota. I attend an open gym every Wednesday, where I play with strangers on a men’s net. I always come home with a smile on my face, and I cry tears of joy at the thought of reuniting with my teammates at Pratt when this is all over. I’ve been so blessed to be a part of this program for the last two years and I only hope that our season will continue for my senior year. At the end of the day, sports are more than a recreational game: they are about drive, commitment and comradery. Pratt volleyball encompasses all three.

Homesick AMBER LIU Image by Isha Pandya

According to the Institute of International Education, in 2019, the number of international students in the United States reached an all-time high with more than a million students contributing over $44.7 billion to the economy. These students come from all over the world, aiming to attain the level of education advertised in America. However, there are a number of differences between international students and local students; ones that international students sometimes aren’t even aware of prior to beginning our studies.

With COVID-19, international students not only face the fear of not being able to remain healthy in this country, but also escalated racism and xenophobia. To this day, hearing people refer to it as the “China virus” (or plague, as stated by the President) makes me feel afraid, pained and insulted. While many students were able to return to their home states, international

FEATURE

Over the summer, I, along with many of my fellow international peers, faced the back-and-forth ICE visa mandate, which had made us unsure of our visa stability. Since then, I have been reflecting on my time as an international student to see how my college experience has differed from that of my American counterparts. While many of our peers were preoccupied with choosing room decorations and finding a roommate, we were frantically applying for visas, crossing our fingers that the officer on duty was in a good mood and that we’d be approved. Maybe that should’ve been my first indication that, as an international student, things would always be different for me.

During our time in the United States, there is little opportunity for international students to earn their own income. I first realized this when my lifelong dream of opening an Etsy shop was demolished when I discovered that I couldn’t earn an independent selfemployed income as an international student, despite paying American taxes. There is often the misconception that ‘international students are all rich,’ but that isn’t the case. Many rely on savings, sponsors and scholarships, and as a result, do not have the luxury of constant travel, making spending years away from families a common occurrence. Even if one does have the means to fly home, regulations prevent international students who are seeking a more permanent visa status from leaving the United States. I have had friends unable to attend weddings, funerals and Christmases for the sake of keeping their immigration status retention.

FEATURE

Lisa* spent weeks couch hopping through different states due to the travel bans imposed. As put by Nadine*, a senior at an New York City university, “...international students have no permanent home in this country.” Most of the time, the only ones we have to rely on are ourselves.

When you move to a new country, you are always told to expect “culture shock,” but international students are never told to expect intense discrimination. Rose*, another senior based in New York, reflects that she has been an international student her whole life, but never felt like one until coming to the United States. She constantly encounters the ageold question that every international student is constantly asked: “Wow, how is your English so good?” She realized that there’s an expectation to assimilate to American culture seamlessly, and if you don’t, you are immediately seen as an “Other.” One gets used to the funny looks received from saying a word differently or not knowing about an aspect of American culture, but can never get used to the uncomfortable microaggressions and problematic push for the model minority. I’ve had catcalls directed towards my ethnicity and been confused one too many times with the only other Asian in the room. Mitch*, a student who graduated from a Brooklyn college in 2019, says that despite never feeling out of place due to surrounding himself with international students, he still encountered microaggressions such as being as asked if elephants walked the streets of his home country

of India. He points out that while he has been asked this question many times, not once has it been by a fellow international student. Nadine also says that, “my experience of being an international student in the United States oftentimes ties in with feeling anxious.” Throughout our time here in the Big Apple, there are countdowns looming over our heads: a countdown to when our visa ends, when the government decides to halt our statuses, when we don’t find a job, when we face the next microaggression, when we are approached by ICE and it goes wrong. Many of these things are inevitable and out of our control. Most of the time, we are at the hands of the government, with no say in who sits on that government. It isn’t all doom and gloom for international students, though. Most of us don’t regret our choice to come to the United States. In New York, there

are restaurants that remind us of home and cultural events, like art galleries and parties, that create community. Most people are welcoming and love to learn about our cultures. Most empathize, understand and do what they can to ease our struggles. We are able to attain a Social Security Number, be involved in different organizations and even be awarded scholarships throughout our time here. We have access to a multitude of untapped resources, professional opportunities and high-class education that we were promised. We have the support of the Office of International Affairs and fellow international students who are always willing to provide advice and aid when we are lost. We are able to cultivate our talents, learn about American culture, meet diverse groups of people and represent our country to the best of our abilities. I am in love with my on-campus job as a tour guide and treasure the internships I have been able to experience. I love introducing my culture to people, like teaching people phrases in my language and cooking our national dishes for others. I’ve grown to be strong on my own and confident in my abilities to persevere for what I want to achieve. Going through these experiences has given me a more holistic and universal perspective on global issues, and being in the United States has made me more socially aware, while also finding comfort and pride in my own identity. These are all things that I wouldn’t trade, and I’m sure many of us feel the same way.

pity. I understand that many of these laws are present for a reason and are part of what we sign up for. I also recognize that, as someone who can speak English fluently and often with a Western accent, my experiences are not equivalent to those of all international students. Sometimes, I do start to believe that I should just shut up, be grateful to even be let into this country or just go back to where I came from. But when I am being publicly shamed by an immigration officer after a 30-hour flight, or when I am in tears at the airport because no one would process my visa, making me miss my flight to see my family, I’d like to propose that sometimes, it’s important to tell the often unheard stories of students like me. It’s important to show empathy and consideration for those who have different circumstances than you. If the past four years have shown me anything, it is that international students are a fierce and resilient group of people, who have been dealt these cards that often work against them, but nonetheless, have learned to to find strength, be independent and carve their own path through the rubble. *All names have been changed.

This piece isn’t meant to be a stream of constant complaints or requests for 25

culture

A Clock Won't Change A Climate

On September 19, 2019, 60,000 people attended the Peopleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Climate March in New York City. Many schools had given students the day off to march, while others decided to take the day off in order to participate. Pratt students were no exception. A year and a day later, on September 20, 2020 The New York Times published an article about the Union Square clock, a staple of the area, which has 26

CASSANDRA BISTROW

Image by Vivian Vasquez stopped telling time in the traditional way. An installation created by artists Gan Golan and Andrew Boyd, the clock now begins at 3:20pm with seven years, one hundred and three days, fifteen hours, forty minutes and seven seconds; the alleged time until climate change becomes irreversible. According to Boyd and Golan, this number comes from calculations done by the Mercator Research Institute on

Global Commons and Climate Change. The clock went viral a day after the article was posted. At first, its social media presence did exactly what the project itself was intended to do: remind us to reduce our carbon footprints, be conscious of the environment and elevate the doomsday deadline we are unsettlingly approaching. However, it didn’t take long for the tone of the public to quickly shift into one of disdain. Aren’t we trying? This question of trying especially resonates for students at Pratt, widely considered to be the up-and-coming generation. Who could come into contact with this ridiculous installation? What can we do during our time at school to make a difference, despite knowing where these damages are coming from?

culture

Pratt offers sustainability programs, but they aren’t necessarily known unless you seek them out. The institute’s sustainability minor, for example, requires fifteen credits. This means one could take electives such as “Politics of Climate Change” or “Power, Pollution and Profit” to educate themselves further about the situation, as well as interact with other invested students about the topic. Yet, what if Pratt made taking a class on the environment and sustainability a requirement? Wouldn’t the student body learn more about how to give back to the city we’re living in, while also finding community and working together to make Pratt a more sustainable campus?

Pratt also has a Sustainability Coalition, which you can find meetings for on their website. According to their mission statement, the coalition focuses on how a fashion major can make sustainable clothes, how an architecture student can design a building to best include solar panels or a green roof and is meant to open discussions about how artists can be environmentally conscious in their work, both on and off campus. Though all students are welcome, the coalition does seem heavily geared towards fashion, architecture and design majors, and once again, isn’t particularly known amongst the student body. Though Pratt is trying, there should be a recurring conversation about the environment for every student in every major. It’s true there are ways we can all do our part outside of school: we can wash our clothes in cold water, unplug our electronics, bring tote bags when we go grocery shopping and so on. If anything, the massive clock’s message should be geared towards institutions like Pratt which could be doing more, as well as the corporations who continue to damage the environment. A good place for Pratt to start would be advertising the coalition as well as their sustainability clubs much more, advocating for students to engage and expand the conversation. Despite the ridiculousness of the clock, we do have a deadline, and it is up to us as members of an institution to discuss how to put in as much effort as possible both on campus and in our future careers.

Thoughts

en'Z Right' Z m o

As a member of Gen Z, I’m inclined to believe that global change will be made by my generation and those that come after. But what if, in fact, they are already being made by those who came before me, and I am just meant to continue and widen their path? The presence of strong women in today’s media inspires people, regardless of their gender or nationality, to make overdue changes. With strong minds leading the charge, we can anticipate a better future.

Four years ago, we saw the first female presidential candidate, who graced the debate stage with as much poise as her male counterparts. Hilary Clinton didn’t win the election, but she showed women that they have a place in the political world and can run just as fast in

CAMILLE BAVERA Image by Naomi Desai any race. Fast forward to today, and one has continued inspiration in the form of the late Ruth Bader Ginsburg, a woman that personified the idea of feminism. A strong advocate of women’s rights, Bader Ginsburg’s embodiment of power and determination inspires the next generation of women and girls through her empty seat. When looking at pictures or art, her iconic gaze dares the viewer to fight as hard as she did. The three remaining positions in the Supreme Court held by women represent the evolution of obtaining equal rights, and although the other female justices’ work isn’t as well known, their very seats speak to RBG’s dedication to the fight.

Think about your Instagram account for a minute. How often do the posts in your feed reference empowerment? In addition to the horror stories we view of sexual workplace politics, there are uplifting ones as well. Whether it’s about casting a vote in the upcoming election, a strong female celebrities’ post or even basic, Simply Southern quotes in curly font about where a woman gets her strength, they all empower. Unfortunately we often flick past them, occasionally liking a post that would come back to haunt us if we didn’t. In doing this, we forget the struggles that made the post possible in the first place. These ideas weren’t as readily available to previous generations, and the sense of hope and upliftment they provide shouldn’t be taken for granted.

A mistake commonly made by young people today is that we think we’re all predestined to be changemakers, as though we were bred to make the world a better place. Perhaps this is because our generation was raised with constant praise and made to think that whatever we did was enough. Maybe this has given us a mentality that all of us are exceptionally powerful individuals going out to make great change, or maybe this stigma comes from real world pressures on young people to change the system entirely on their own. The fact is, if we were to zoom out and look at the bigger picture, we would see that change is already happening and has been for decades. In terms of progress, we’re not starting from scratch. Change is and has already been taking place. Judging by the lack of forward movement made in the campaign for women’s equality, however, we’ll still have to work just as hard as our predecessors. Like those before us, it’s our job to society and to those who have already made due change, as the up-and-coming generation, to make better what has been given to us and to inspire those who will follow.

Thoughts

Regardless of powerful females cementing their achievements in our history textbooks, women have experienced sexual misconduct in countless professional fields. Many have felt the need to make their stories known through the #MeToo movement. Stories are commonly told by women in media and politics, their experiences blowing up Twitter and Instagram feeds daily (the most publicized cases in recent years being those of Harvey Weinstein and Brett Cavanaugh). In these cases, the woman is victimized and made to feel weaker than a man, which is then emphasized in the media. However, while the stigma that a woman is not as capable as a man has been proven false time and time again, modern day statistics on gender pay-gap and sheer numbers of harassment cases still provoke disparaging thoughts:

When will women be taken seriously? Is the MeToo movement just another phase to be drowned out by a man’s voice? How many times must we prove our capabilities before we’re treated with an equal level of respect? These voices can be minimizing, especially to younger generations who feel that they don’t yet harness enough power to make individual change.