Volume 10 | Issue 2
MEET THE BOARD
OUT NOW!!!!
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Standford Lipsey Student Publications Building 420 Maynard St, Ann Arbor, MI 48109
BROOKLYN BLEVINS APOORVA GAUTAM Editor-in-Chief
Publisher
Creative Director
Marketing Director
Operations Director
ABBY RAPOPORT
NEHA KOTAGIRI
AVA BEN-DAVID
Design Editor
Print Fashion Editors
Print Features Editor
Print Photo Editors
MARGARET LAAKSO
DANA GRAY
CATHERINE AUGUST
ALEX LAM SINYU DENG
Video Editor
Digital Fashion Editor
Digital Features Editor
Print Beauty Editor
CARLY NICHOLS
JANAE DYAS
JANICE KANG
ELISSA LI
Finance Coordinators
Events Coordinator
Managing Photo Editor
Digital Photo Editor
HARINI SHANKAR MAKENZIE KULCZYCKI
SENA KADDURAH
EMMA PETERSON
SUREET KUAR SARAU
Human Resources Coordinator
Social Media Coordinators
Public Relations Coordinators
Digital Content Editor
SARAH LINDENBACH
LUIZA SANTOS AUBREY BORSCHKE
ANGELA LI
JESSICA CHO ESTHER MURRAY
Design Team Kai Huie, Liza Miller, Terri Kang, Ashley Glabicki, Emily Sun, Katherine Kell, Sebastien Triplett, Tiya Madhavan, Bailey Hwang
Fashion Team Melissa Yu, Tzu-Yun Fun, aith Tang, Reagan Hakala, Janna Jacobson, Paige Tushman, Paula Luput, Annabelle Ye, Mary-Katherine Acho Tartoni, Elena Shaheen, Jessica Kroetsch, Taylor Stevens, Juliana Ramirez, Jessica Li, Ligaya Galang, Ansie Kruse, Bobby Curries, Ankitha Donepudi, Niko Smith, Sidney Vue, Angela Li, Emily Jennett, Sigourney Acharya, Aurelia Hudak, Emily Sun
Features Team Lynn Dang, Sailor West, Shelby Jenkins, Meera Kumar, Ava Shapiro, Mya Fromwiller, Melissa Werkema, Emerson McKay, Lucy Dover, Emma Edmondson, Tara Wasik
Photography Team Sureet Sarau, Riley Kisser, Oliver Segal, Paulina Rajski, Yueshan, Jiang, Carly Nichols, Tess Crowley, Maggie Kirkman, Taylor Pacis, Anisha Chopra, Vivian Leech, Anika Minocha, Emmanuelle Cubba, Audrey Eng, Mary Katharine Acho-Tartoni, Patrick Li, Harrison Brown
Videography Team Carly Nichols, Juana Mancera, Eaman Ali, Takara Wilson, Johannes Pardi, Kaelin Park
Digital Content Team Jessica Cho, Sarafina Chea, Esther Murray, Aurelia Hudak, Sigourney Acharya, Ally Chang, Clare Hong, Kiana Pandit, Irem Hatipoglu, Shari Frazer, Sophie Ding, Haniya Farooq, Alana Vang, Emily Jennett
Finance Team Elle Donakowski, Suma Moolaveesala, Manvita Battepati, Rendie Zhang, Olivia Jabari
Human Resources Team Sarah Lindenbach, Lily Watchel, Emma Lewry, Diya Nambiar
Public Relations Team Harini Shanker, Brandon Cole, Katherine Lambert, Devin Vowels, Ava Ben-David, Ava Ray, Samantha Wright
Events Team Tara Nayak, Erin Segui, Shruti Patel, Tiara Blonshine, Paris Rodgers, Allie Cain, Lottie Winegarden
Social Media Team Samedha Gorrai, Olivia Sun, Charlotte Foley, Hannah Ding, Aubrey Borschke, Camila Escobar, Ellie Ngassa, Aarya Padhye, Luiza Santos
Street Style Team Alexa Rind, Jordyn Hardy, Jenna Frieberg, Xander Bower, Ernest Hawkes, Anika Minocha, Ellie Ngassa, Nina Walker
LETTER FROM THE EDITORS 06 THE POWER OF SPACE 08 THREE’S A CROWD 10 METAMORPHOSIS 20 PERCEPTION IN THE DIGITAL AGE 24 TAINTED AFFAIR 26 SENIOR YEAR: EVERYTHING, EVERYWHERE, ALL AT ONCE 32 5
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hange can only be understood as it occurs. Despite how hard we try, we cannot signal for it to stop, to wait for us to properly digest its craftsmanship, before moving on to the next stage of life having a clear understanding of who we used to be in comparison to who we are now. As a result, this all-consuming force, one impacting our relationships with others, our surroundings, and even ourselves, proves difficult to digest holistically. To be in a state of flux is to be constantly changing, in a continual motion of evolution, simultaneously defining both your past and present, all while creating a space for the future. Thus, to most accurately understand the concept of being in flux, our creatives found themselves doing the work to break down the true essence of change in bite-sized pieces. Each discrete unit, whether it be a word on the page or a photographed frame, is a symbol for transformation through story-telling. In “The Power of Space,” Shelby Jenkins toys with the significance of the single character that separates the word “influx” from the title of this month’s issue, IN FLUX. This linguistic change serves as a marker for the ease of intrinsic transformation. Separating out the prefix in– can also give the term flux scientific connotations (in physics the rate of flow of a fluid) but by reorienting this definition to consider the personal, we’re left to wonder how change can be quantified. With a foundational understanding of the vocabulary driving our explorations of change, we move into case studies of our own individual fluctuations, namely in relationships.
“Metamorphosis” explores a relationship’s pendulum swing between independence and codependence, how relationships are altered by reliance until the lines between self and other are blurred. In “Three’s a Crowd,” we see change in the form of assimilation as friends attempt to maintain a relationship that has been seemingly thrown off-kilter. As humans, it’s unlikely that we’ll escape the constant flurry of coming and going, change, and transition that make our lives so dynamic and lived. While the motion of my fingers against the worn keys of my computer is one that I find solace and familiarity in, there’s something to be said about the transformative nature of writing in and of itself. And this can be said for nearly every action in our day-to-day regimen. We’ll continue to be changed by our conscious actions, and while daunting, this fact can also empower us to transform each day, much in the way each day will transform us. So as you make your way through the content of this issue, think about the perpetual motion of your eyes scanning the page, the flip from one piece to the next, how this consistent movement alters the landscape of your brain as you engage with each element laid out before you. This singular moment in time marks a version of you that this issue will never see again; only time will give way to the differences.
Brooklyn Blevins Editor-In-Chief
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e’re in the season of getting into the flow of things. When nothing is fixed, and everything is up in the air. When the languid streams of summer swell into the torrential waters of fall, flooding us with all that the season brings. Nothing is ever truly set in stone; even stone itself is subject to erosion, weathering, and change. Relationship dynamics shift, priorities rearrange, routines reconfigure, beliefs upend. As our writers have pointed out in this issue, our motivations for self-documentation, relationships with environments we know like the back of our hands, and outlooks on loss and rejection aren’t exempt from the process of evolution either. From incoming first-years to outgoing graduatesto-be, we are all susceptible to the fluctuations of change. Which is a truth that should be met with gladness rather than fear; stagnant, unflowing bodies of water inevitably grow stale and, eventually, deadly. IN FLUX is an elegy for all that has been and no longer is, for everything that has been engulfed by the unrelenting undulations of time. It is also a welcoming of all that can be and will be, of everything we’re making room for by letting go of what we’d been clutching so closely to our chests. It’s an embracing of out with the old, in with the new. Inhale. Exhale.
Janice Kang Digital Features Editor 7
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f I had to guess, the precious subscription to the Oxford English Dictionary that the University of Michigan gifts its students probably goes untouched by most, if they are at all aware of this pricy
yet wondrous privilege in the first place. Even at the risk of sounding pretentious, I’ll admit to being a frequent user of the Oxford English Dictionary. Then again, I am an English major, so pretentiousness is a core tenant. If websites were coffee shops, cozy places that lined the streets rather than just existing behind our screens, then I would easily be considered a regular at the OED–my order infamous among the baristas for the insane number of espresso shots it contains. (Again, see: English major). I have found words to be uniquely and distinctly human. They each have their own pedigrees and histories steeped in time and place and huffs of breath passed through pursed lips forming their meaning. The etymology of a word, its origin and evolution of meaning, lies between the deep wrinkles on your grandmother’s forehead, the same place where all the priceless lessons only time can teach reside. According to my beloved Oxford England Dictionary, to be in flux is to experience the action of flowing. A continuous succession of changes of condition, composition or substance. I think my favorite meaning of the word is the one under the “Mathematics” headers, which defines being in flux as a continued motion, fluxion. The mathematicians are usually onto something. The friction between my lips and teeth as the /f/ sound rolls off my tongue is charmingly satisfying. I like the way my cheeks puff up ever so slightly, as if saying the word itself demands our body to be in constant motion. Demanding to be in flux. However, if you press the ‘delete’ key on your computer even a single time, you’ve created an entirely different word. You haven’t actually changed any letters at all but remove a space, and you arrive at influx. The act of flowing in; an in flow. It only takes a shift in a tiny bit of air to have transformed the entire definition of a word. Nearly identical lettering, and yet fraternal twins in the end. What is it about this singular space, or lack of space, that tugs at my being so endlessly? When you string the words up into a sentence, they make out like the pearls of a vintage necklace. As if the universe itself is declaring the truthfulness of the sentiment. When you create the space in your life to be in flux and allow spontaneous opportunities to arrive.
WRITER SHELBY JENKINS GRAPHIC DESIGNER SÉBASTIEN TRIPLETT
Perhaps surprisingly and slightly contrary to the opinion expressed above, I have never been one to believe strongly in the idea that “everything happens for a reason.” Even Reason only has twenty-four hours in her day—hardly enough time to determine the destiny of all eight billion humans on this planet. Instead, I tend to believe in the idea that when one thing ends, something else begins. Even if said “something else” takes her sweet time in revealing herself to you. It has taken me my fair share of heartbreak—over people and opportunities alike—to realize that rejection is a much closer synonym to redirection than loss. The space between influx and in flux feels like proof enough of that. Even when a door is closed so viciously in your face that you barely have enough time to jerk your fingers out of the way before it slams, there are lessons lingering in the space there. Lessons I can confidently say I have not wanted to learn, much less been told that they exist, when it felt like everything I wanted was slipping so quickly out of reach. But with enough time and space from the once devastating present, I came to appreciate each rejection for the novel path it sent me down. I came to realize that each time I lost what I thought I wanted, I was already in the midst of gaining something else, something that was much closer to what I needed. The universe just had to clear space in my life for me to receive it. Of course, there’s a fair chance we’re all actually just being tugged along by “divine timing” or the location of the planets in the sky or some grand mystical being. I think each of those are very real possibilities. But I, myself, am a rather big fan of personal agency and choose to lean into believing I can control, at the very least, my outlook on life. While I implore you to find something you feel passionate enough about achieving that to miss out on it makes you feel big emotions, I ultimately offer you peace in knowing the next thing is always, always coming. Just give it the time and space to arrive.
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SHOOT DIRECTOR BOBBY CURIE PHOTOGRAPHERS TESS CROWLEY YUESHAUN JIANG FASHION JANAÉ DYAS VIDEO EAMAN MODELS ZAMORA TAMMINGA CHIARA DETTIN CRISTINA ERKSINE GRAPHIC DESIGNER TERRI KANG
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METAMORPHOSIS
DIRECTOR ANKITHA DONEPUDI STYLIST ANKITHA DONEPUDI PHOTOGRAPHERS JESS CHO RILEY KISSER SOPHIE DING VIDEOGRAPHER JUANA MANCERA GRAPHIC DESIGNER LIZA MILLER MODELS ISABELLA XU HELENA GROBEL
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Perception IN THE
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digital age
fter a long day of classes, I change out of the itchy clothes I wore to class and throw on my favorite sweatpants and my ugliest thrifted sweatshirt. I then climb onto my pale green comforter dotted with little white flowers, throw my fuzziest blanket over myself, and enjoy the contrast between the cool cotton of my comforter and the warmth of my blanket. I untangle my old wired headphones and plug them into my phone as I begin to scroll through my contacts. When I reach the contacts of one of my closest friends from home, I press “Call” and anxiously wait for the ringing to stop. Her face soon appears across my screen and I instantly feel a sense of relief. We laugh and catch up, talking about everything that happened since we last spoke, and to supplement some of my stories, I share my screen and scroll through my camera roll. She asks me to pause on one photo in particular—one of me hugging a friend, me with a messy smile and my friend caught mid-laugh. She smiles and says, “You look really happy in this one.” After we move on from that picture and eventually end the call, that comment lingers in my mind. There have been so many times where I have tried to look “attractive” in photos, but I’ve never intentionally desired to look happy in one. And yet, that comment meant so much more to me than receiving a compliment on my physical appearance I’ve grown up in an age where the social norm is to be constantly taking pictures, which allowed me to influence how I appear in a space that almost everyone now inhabits: the digital space. The nature of digital spaces, such as social media platforms, allows me to control how I appear to others by choosing which pictures to post or hide. Holding this type of control, along with the societal emphasis on beauty, often led me to prioritize my physical appearance over anything else. Time and time again, I would disregard a beautiful setting or happy memory if I didn’t like how I looked in that picture. I began to expect perfection, and having pictures of myself so readily available and in such abundance made it easy to critique myself..
WRITER MYA FROMWILLER GRAPHIC DESIGNER KAI HUIE This criticism can often overshadow the original purpose of taking pictures: to capture precious moments in time. I’ve often found myself looking at old pictures and the first thought being, “I don’t really like how I look in this,” even though these pictures are representative of something so much more significant, such as my relationship with someone or a new experience. As I grow older, I find the constant critique of my physical appearance, especially in photos, to be exhausting. I now strive to appear in photos more naturally and genuinely, not because I want to look a certain way, but because I want my pictures to capture more than just my physical appearance. I now realize how unrealistic it was to expect perfection because no picture will ever be perfect. The way we are captured in photos is never consistent— factors such as lighting, angles, and camera quality can produce immense variations in the way we appear. Recognizing that these variations exist and are unavoidable has allowed me to appreciate and accept photos that I would have otherwise discarded. I find myself being less critical of the photos where my smile is messy or my eyes are half closed, because those convey more genuine moments than posed photos ever could. And as I learn to appreciate these moments of imperfection more often, I strive to look upon my camera roll with much kinder eyes, and search for something deeper than how I look.
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SHOOT DIRECTOR ANGELA LI STYLIST SIDNEY VUE PHOTOGRAPHERS SUREET SAURA CARLY NICHOLS VIDEO CARLY NICHOLS GRAPHIC DESIGNER EMILY SUN MODELS ALLISON GAINES NAV DALMIA
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Senior Year: Everything, Everywhere, All at Once WRITER SAILOR WEST GRAPHIC DESIGNER KATIE KELL
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wo weeks ago, I dreamt that I died. If reading that sentence feels jarring, imagine actually having the dream. Suffice to say, it was a rude awakening in every sense of
the phrase. My heart was hammering out of my chest as I peeled by sweat coated back off my disheveled sheets. I sat up, and my mind immediately began to race. What did this mean? Do I want to Google “death dream” and let the internet tell me my fate? Luckily, I had a therapy appointment scheduled for that afternoon, and my therapist is particularly well versed in dream analysis. She was quick to reassure me that my dream didn’t forebode imminent death. “Dreams are symbolic, they are rarely to be taken at face value,” she
informed me. Apparently, dreams about death are surprisingly common and symbolize periods of personal evolution. When our minds are coping with change or transformation, it may feel like a part of us, or our life, is “dying” to make room for something new. Her explanation greatly resonated with me. Last week, I came home from class to join my roommate on the couch for our daily debrief session and found her staring at her computer screen, crying. Instantly worried, I seated myself next to her and asked what was wrong. She shared that she had just signed her offer letter, committing her to a full-time job in Boston starting next summer. She quickly clarified that her tears weren’t sad, but they weren’t particularly happy either. “It’s just emotion,” she shared. We proceeded to sit there, reflecting on how crazy it was that before we know it, our cherished little college life will be no longer. As the weeks have passed, I have found myself in a similar situation, faced with decisions that commit myself to imminent change. The past couple of weeks have been uncomfortable. Fun, definitely, but still uncomfortable. The campus feels just as foreign as it does familiar. The absence of friends who have graduated is palpable, and being the oldest makes us feel superior but separate.
Unlike the rest of the undergraduate campus, we are balancing the voice in our ear to savor every last minute of college with the other voice telling us to apply for jobs, get ready to move somewhere, and figure out what life as an adult will look like. This constant internal negotiation between living in the moment and planning for the future is contradictory and incredibly difficult to manage simultaneously. I knew senior year of college would be filled with lower commitment classes, making memories with my friends, and cherishing all that Ann Arbor has to offer one last time. However, I wasn’t prepared for feeling like I had changed on the inside amidst an unchanged environment. Do not get me wrong, I love college. I don’t think I’ll ever feel completely ready to begin adulthood, and there will always be a part of me that could live in Ann Arbor forever. However, I feel myself shifting. There is no denying that this year is different from my past couple years of college. My mom has always said that “life has a funny way of preparing you for the next thing.” I truly believe that this chaos of emotions that has become my senior year is life preparing me for the impending change. You can’t have Rick’s Thursdays and early morning game days without the tears on the couch. You can’t have the hilarious memories and late night snack runs without hugging and promising that whatever next year brings, it will be just as incredible as this year. Every tear, hug, and “what the fuck am I going to do with my life” moment is complemented with memories that I’ll cherish for a lifetime. This conflict of emotions and self-aware sense of evolution is normal and should be felt. My roommate is allowed to cry about signing her offer letter, not because she is sad or happy, but because it is everything all at once. Like in my essential.
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