Lelygaan Magazine Autumn Issue 2023

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Featured Writer - Julian Font

Featured Photographer - So e Hofer

Summer in the Ether

Symbiosis: Hannah Stree erk

Flowers for Williams

Subconscious Conscience

On

Cinnamon Buns and Running in the Woods Autumn

Featured Designer - Flavia-Elisabeta

SPECIAL THANKS TO

BAGELS AND BEANS GRONINGEN UNIVERSITY OF GRONINGEN

HANZE HOGESCHOOL ACADEMIE MINERVA

HANNAH STREEFKERK REDBULL OUR FRIENDS AND FAMILIES

EDITOR’S NOTE

Autumn. My favourite time of the year. Partially because of the colour scheme that nature unveils every year, but mostly because it’s such a season of change. Every single year, in the nineteen autumns I’ve experienced so far, I’ve seen a process happen that would never be possible in summer, spring, or winter. Autumn forces us to go inside, to watch the rain from behind the kitchen window. It’s a season of refection, of letting go, of preparing yourself for the darkness that is undeniably approaching as the sun starts to set later and later. It so beautifully refects what Lelygaan Magazine has come to stand for: going through the motions and growing from it. We’re all continuously evolving; you as a reader are navigating the roads of life, this team is becoming better at what we do, and the trees are shedding their leaves so they can grow back stronger in spring. New beginnings; that is what autumn prepares us for. Much like the trees’ cycle of rebirth, we must go through this same process to be able to see the April sun rise again.

Something bad happens, we sit through it, and we grow from it. Let this issue of Lelygaan inspire you, bring you joy and travel in your mind until April arrives again .

FEATURED WRITER

by Nathan Rivera

From Journals to Best-Selling Novels

In the world of words, Julian Font’s narrative is nothing short of extraordinary. From a 10-year-old fan-fction prodigy to a commanding force in best-selling fction, his journey brims with passion, resurgence, and an unyielding commitment to storytelling.

At a young age, Julian Font scribbled stories in his journals that danced with imagination. Yet, the cacophony of conformity during his teenage years dimmed his creative spark, as he reshaped himself to ft societal molds. Enter 2020, a year of redefnement, as he came across his old journals. Suddenly, the words ignited a blaze, reigniting a long-forgotten, God-given passion for storytelling.

In a recent interview, Font says, “I found myself molding into whatever people suggested I be. After years of hollow pursuits, I fnally asked myself, ‘Who did I want to be before the world told me who I needed to be?’ That’s when I came across my childhood journals and reconnected with a version of myself that knew no boundaries.”

In a mere blink, Julian Font has transformed from an aspiring wordsmith to a literary luminary. Coming of the success of his debut novel, “Night After Night,” his most recent release, “Write My Wrongs,” soared to the top ranks of Amazon’s Rockstar Romance Best-Seller list for weeks, captivating readers globally. Amid this ascent, Julian Font clings to an unwavering truth: he’s here to tell stories. His words are not just ink on a page; they’re an echo of a divine mission, a symphony of purpose.

“I don’t write for money or attention,” declares Font.

I want to ride a dragon, I want to travel through space, I want to be a lawyer, a pirate, I want to be it all. And writing books allows me to do that.”

The saga of Julian Font resonates as an anthem of rediscovery, a testament to authenticity, and a triumph of the human spirit. As his narratives continue to weave a web of wonder, his voyage stands as a beacon for all daring souls seeking fulfllment through artistic expression.

Julian Font is currently in the draft phase for his upcoming psychological thriller, one that has been rumored to disrupt the thriller genre itself. His Best-Selling Rockstar Romance novel is currently available on Amazon as a paperback and on Kindle Unlimited.

“You can do this,” I say to the man in front of me. “You can fucking do this.”

His hair is cut short and bleached platinum-blonde. Tattoos cover his skin, from the top of his neck to his fngertips. The fickering lights illuminate his deep-brown eyes–eyes longing for the motivation to do what he’s about to do.

The man is broken. He always has been and always will be. His tattoos tell his story. It’s a story of repeated mistakes and self-destructive patterns. How is he still alive? Will he ever change?

I reach a hand toward the man, but I can’t touch him. My hand is stopped by the mirror between us. The man in the mirror is me, and I spend every day wishing he wasn’t.

I shouldn’t be here, staring at my refection in the bathroom of a restaurant in Manhattan. I need to be out there in 10 minutes, but my anxiety keeps me from moving. Cold water.

I turn on the faucet, and it spews out freezing cold water. Between quick breaths, I splash it against my face. “You can do this.”

I grip the sink to keep myself from grabbing the vial of cocaine in my pocket. I promised myself I’d throw it away earlier today, but I couldn’t get myself to. It’s not that I’m addicted. I just need it to…

“Get your ass on stage!” a hoarse voice shouts from behind me. The voice belongs to the restaurant owner, who comes trudging into the bathroom. “You don’t play, you don’t get your fucking money.”

“I need that money,” I say to the restaurant owner through the refection. But I can’t perform.

“And I need someone to play music for the restaurant.” He pulls his pants up over his gut and lifts his sweaty chin. “Last time I’m gonna tell you, kid.”

My eyes fick from his eyes to my own as I stare into my refection again. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

The owner rolls his eyes, wipes the sweat of his face, then throws the door open. When he’s gone, it’s silent.

“I’m asking you to change your ways…” I say to the man in the mirror. “After tonight.” I reach into my pocket for the vial of coke.

With every step I take in the direction of the tiny stage, my head grows lighter. I thought the coke would help with my anxiety, but it only made it worse. I can hear my heartbeat in my head. My legs are growing weaker by the second.

The restaurant’s music cuts out as I step onto the stage, and the sudden silence forces heads to turn… toward me. How ironic–being an aspiring singer with a case of severe stage fright. This isn’t my frst time performing, it’s just my frst time performing in front of people. Behind closed doors, I can sing, write, and strum like I’m serenading a stadium of goddesses. In public, it’s a whole diferent story. There was a point in my life when I was confdent in my singing. I was 10 years old, sitting in the back seat of my mom’s car, windows rolled down and music blaring. “Sing it, baby!” she would shout, and I’d watch her smile at me through the rearview mirror. She looked like an angel. But I’m no longer in the car with her, and she’s no longer here with me.

Press Fast Forward to eighteen years later, and here I am on stage without her. Each time I perform, it goes down the same way. First, I get afraid. Then, I’m petrifed. Then, I keep thinking I could never live without her by my side.

I wrap the guitar strap over my shoulder, thinking once I hold the guitar, my stage fright will subside. My fngers are slippery along the wooden neck, and the guitar pick shakes in my right hand. When I turn to face the microphone, I misjudge the distance, and my chin makes contact. A high-pitched ringing sound echoes through the silent restaurant, bringing even more attention to my brewing panic attack.

Dammit.

I grab the mic and bring it close to my lips, saying, “Hi. M-my name is Eren Gratis… and I’m… this is…”

This is fucking embarrassing. That’s what this is.

The lighting in the restaurant is dim, but I can still see the cringed-out expressions of the guests. I don’t blame them.

“You’re hot!” a girl shouts from the back of the restaurant. Mufed laughter follows the comment, and I see that it’s coming from a table of four. I let out a nervous laugh. Say something. Or play something?

“NEXT!” a man shouts from the same table. More laughter follows the comment as they continue heckling me.

The spotlight suddenly becomes too much to bear. I try to catch my breath, but it escapes me. You can’t do this, I think to myself. You damn fool.

Excerpt from “WRITE MY WRONGS,” the Rockstar Romance novel by Julian Font. From Chapter 1, Eren’s perspective.

You’ll never be able to fnish what Mom started. You’re an imposter. A fraud. You don’t deserve to be on stage after what you’ve done to her. The crowd’s whispers bring me back to the present moment. I’ve been standing here breathing into the mic for who-knows-how-long.

“I’m sorry,” I exhale into the microphone. Little do they know, it’s not them I’m apologizing to.

I’m sorry, Mom.

I drop my guitar and make a beeline for the exit. When I shove the doors open, I’m embraced by the chilling breeze of the night. I’m overwhelmed by the city sounds–cars beeping, homeless people shouting, herds of people walking in diferent directions. All of the sounds become one, and I can’t fnd a rhythm.

I shove my hands in my pockets and walk into the alley beside the restaurant. There’s nothing but a dumpster and my motorcycle, which is propped up near the restaurant’s back door.

“Dammit!”

I kick the dumpster out of sheer frustration. BAM!

I’m angry that nothing has changed after all these years. I’m frustrated with myself for submitting to this never-ending cycle…

I book a gig.

I’m called to the stage. Nothing comes out. Repeat.

“Stick to writing songs,” people in the music industry tell me. “Leave the performing to the professionals.” With my back pressed against the brick wall, I lower myself to the ground, burying my face in my palms.

It blows my mind how, for the longest time, I’ve been numb to every feeling but ashamed–ashamed for the wrongs I’ve committed. I’d rather feel nothing at all… because fuck feeling ashamed.

I run my hands over my head and let out a deep breath. It brings me peace, knowing that most musicians are conficted like me. Maybe that’s what makes it okay to indulge in the vices we carry. Being conficted. Being broken.

I don’t know a rockstar who wasn’t addicted to drugs, sex, fame, or all the above. And I’ve got one of those vices at my disposal right now. I pull the coke vial out of my pocket and look at it for a moment.

I already broke my promise to quit today, and I could really use the confdence boost, so I do a bump. I feel the adrenaline rush through me, giving me the will to live until I need the next bump. I pull out a small fask and lean back against the wall.

“Close your eyes, Mom,” I whisper toward the heavens. “I’m not getting wasted by myself in an alley again.”

Before I can take a sip of my whiskey, a voice sends me into a panic. “I thought I was the only one who talks to myself,” the voice says.

I look left and see a silhouette standing at the end of the alley. It takes a few steps closer until it becomes a girl–a stunning girl–standing under the light shining from above the restaurant’s backdoor. She’s petite, her black heels making her stand taller than she actually is. Her hands are in the pockets of her pea coat that she tightens around her body.

“I wasn’t talking to myself,” I exhale.

I was talking to my dead mom, which is probably much more concerning.

“So I guess I am the only one who talks to myself,” the girl replies. Her eyes trail to my bike. “Is this your motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” I reply dryly.

She nods, taking a couple of steps around the motorcycle to get a better look. Her hair is a beautiful auburn color with strands of gold tied up into a top bun. Her curious eyes fick toward me, and all I see is the color blue–a piercing blue–so blue, they’d make the ocean envious. She looks at me for a moment, pondering what to say. I do the same.

SOFIE HOFER SOFIE HOFER

My name is Sofe

I am originally from a small village in Austria close to the city of Innsbruck -- a beautiful place in the alps with both nature and diferent places to explore. I have ventured out into various parts of the world over the years: my journey taking me to Norway for two years, then to beautiful Spain. Today I am based in Berlin, currently pursuing a degree in Entrepreneurial Leadership & Innovation with a focus in creative industries. Through these studies I have been diving deeper into my creative abilities and establishing myself as a creative individual. I have a profound love for travelling, painting, taking photos, meeting new people and pushing boundaries, as I continue to learn more about myself.

As a child I was always creating things -- whether that was houses made of sticks and stones in the woods, paintings with grass and dirt on some paper, paintings on my parents walls in the house, or music. This artistic ability has always existed and comforted me growing up. In fact, my family (having been photographers themselves for hundreds of years) can account for the presence of

cameras in my early and current life. There is something special about capturing moments and being able to keep them forever. At some point I started taking photos myself whilst painting and creating simultaneously. Now a few years later, the two have kind of merged into my current photography style. I am using my camera to paint a picture -- a kind of story. I’m creating something aesthetic to look at. My eyes and my camera are both the tools of creation.

Featured Photographer

Summer in the Ether

We’re not so diferent, you and I. In tandem we nibble toast in our towels and feel a damp patch spread across the duvet. We’ll sleep on the edge of our beds tonight. We’ll think about how our mothers’ brains live in our bodies. Our alarms go of at 7:30am and while I force myself vertical by 7:31, you’ll lie there another hour. The damp patch is still there but it gets a little smaller as we think about how our childhood dogs are lying exactly where they always are. I’m not sure what my father could be thinking about right now. I didn’t sleep too well, there were crumbs in the sheets. Pick up your socks of the foor, what would your mother think?

It’s okay that you don’t remember your childhood if you remember the lessons it taught you, says the mirror as you brush your teeth. Have you ever actually learned anything, asks mine. Breakfast is scrambled eggs and scrutiny. There was no toast left. We mix some extra spinach into the pan. We move in sync.

I’ve been journaling recently. Your intentions are public. You hide from the world as I go for a walk. People here don’t talk much. Our minds fll in the gaps. They don’t like our outfts or the way we’ve cut our hair. They don’t like our partners. During our last call, my mother said she still feels sixteen. You told me that creativity rears its head at the least likely times. I said doesn’t that make the least likely times the most likely. You shut me up.

You told me about your therapy session and I thought about how I should stop taking notes and start taking pills. My phone chimed at 3am last night. It was work. Yours chimed at 3:07. It was me.

I’m not sure how you spend your afternoons. I spend mine in refection; surely we can’t match there. You couldn’t drive around like me, you’ve become too well-adjusted. Not knowing and soon forgetting, I move alone for a brief moment as I crest a hilltop.The sky is grey but clear. I see one cow in a feld. Her head bows for a bite. She looks lonely. I wonder if my

parents have shared a meal these last few months. Shaking of the thought reveals a hidden corner of the feld. There, under a wide canopy of leaves, lays a whole cast of other cow folk. They couldn’t be more than 30 metres from her. I back away and it looks almost as if she’s right beside them all. I back away til my legs hit the bed.

I’m in my head and so are you. Nothing matters as we throw limbs around our rooms. We’re not so diferent, you and I.

You said that once as a reference to a comedian you now hate and I’m now ambiguous on. Can our diferences only ever be half-diferent? You wipe crumbs. I change my sheets.

by Beth Casserly

This piece of writing is made up of 6 diferent poems and letters and a disorganised series of words that I found in my notes app in June. All of them had the same source - my journey from Groningen, headed back home. Having been in mild dissociation since March, I entered a full dream-like state for the summer. Despite wanting to write, wanting to be as descriptive as I used to be, I simply couldn’t. There was nothing to delve into in my own brain, and even less in the world outside. This was the product - the real tale of my mundane existence, and the mostly imagined tale of my best friend’s existence, as we both battled our brains and forced them to be beautiful. The piece is straightforward. It’s a little jarring, and deliberately shallow. Despite that, it’s real, or at least I have to guess it was, I can’t quite remember.

“The only way the earth stands a chance of surviving is if we live more symbiotically with each other.”

“Symbiosis” HANNAH STREEFKERK

“The society we live in moves through life like a race car, it has stopped seeing the details in life.” Hannah Streefkerk explains as the main theme that she portrayed in her series of work Symbiosis. The lichen that she so carefully crochets are representative of the way that the world should be in her eyes: slow, detailed, careful and collaborative. In an interview with TxP magazine, she states: “Apart from their diversity in shape and colour, I also think the symbiotic aspect of lichen is very interesting; they are a so-called symbiotic collaboration between an algae and a mushroom. Without either one of them, there is no lichen, they’re dependent on each other.” She compares this to our society: we live fast and incredibly individualistic. She believes “the only way the earth stands a chance of surviving is if we live more symbiotically with each other.” She often

exhibited with these pieces outside, afrming the relation between nature and man even more. In her biggest work in the Symbiosis series, she portrays this theme by creating a world map, flled with lichen. Every little piece has been crocheted or embroidered with great detail and care. These techniques are a reinforcement of the overarching theme. In her interview with TxP she explains that she not only uses these traditional techniques because they are slow and detailed, like the lichen she creates with them, but also because “we don’t give ourselves the time for important matters, by using these techniques, I want us to stand still for a moment, to see, and to explore.”

Hannah Streefkerk was a textile artist, originally from the Netherlands, based in Sweden. In this piece, I discuss her most recent, and fnal, series of work: Symbiosis.

Disclaimer: all content in this piece has been accumulated from various sources such as grant applications or prior interviews. This is by no means an original interview with Hannah Streefkerk.

Thank you for watering That will be dead In the morning. Though They They are But they I won’t be too upset, And I won’t try to drown With my tears.

Flowers for Williams

by Jonathan Sijl

watering the plants

Though they drink water, They are just hanging on. are still drinking water, they are already gone. drown you

Subconscious Conscience

by Jonathan Sijl

The mistress of my dreams Appears once in a blue moon To turn me so blue for a morning.

I know she is not my lover, And yet my dreams force me to love her. My brain’s fabrication –The most sinful sensation.

She leaves in her wake A judgment that aspires To be like the Cross That used to haunt me In my dreams.

I wake once more, And her face is replaced With shame, and guilt.

I have been framed Like a painting And hanged On the wall, For all to see –For the crimes I have committed With the mistress of my dreams.

On Friendships, Faces, and Spirals

On Friendships, Faces and Spirals

by Shrila Kanth

Friendships, and

As you get older, making friends gets tougher. It is especially toughwhen you are no longer surrounded by people who share the same culture, colour, language or traditions as you. You might fnd yourself spending most of your day in a dorm room awkwardly googling “How to open a bank account?”, “How to pay rent?”, “How to make scrambled eggs?” and “How to make friends?”

Being surrounded by multiple new faces can be an isolating experience. Approaching people and potential friends can also be a nerve-wracking adventure that makes the palms of your hand sweat, and with everything else going on as a brand new University student, mustering up the courage to start a conversation can be scary. Leaving home, hopping onto a plane with a one way ticket and landing in a place much colder than home will make the people seem colder too. On lonely days, it is comforting to

remember that the road less taken is actually not that barren.

The frst year of University changes your perspective on everything. Meeting people from all walks of life is as intimidating as it is exciting. It is an overwhelming experience to have the luxury of choice. You can, for the frst time, truly choose who you want to be surrounded by. Choose who stays and choose who leaves. You have the luxury of choosing who you want to be. The new faces will never question it, they do not know who you used to be. Yet, you want them to like you for you. The spiral of highlighting your best traits whilst trying to maintain your authenticity is a process full of contradictions. It is a tug of war between who you are and who you’re trying to be. The spiral continues through the hallways of your student dorm, through the classrooms in diferent buildings, through blurry nights at clubs and through bustling cafes.

For me, the spiral didn’t stop until one evening. The common room was full of strange faces, all a little tired and in the mood for some music, a drink, some games and lots of questions. We asked questions about each other’s families and the progress of our countries. They asked me how I speak English so well, paving the way for a history lesson. They asked if I had a boyfriend which led to another history lesson. The next morning we left post-its on each other’s doors, signed up for salsa classes, and decided to have dinner together twice a week.

These strange faces that were once so intimidating turned out to be quite similar to mine. I learnt that human beings are inherently the same, regardless of one’s cultures, diferent colours, accents,

or traditions. Everyone I befriended in that dimly lit common room had that heart-breaking juvenile relationship, and they all loved Vienna by Billy Joel — just like me. All of them would creep out of their rooms at approximately 3am to grab a snack just like me, and all of them had “complicated” family dynamics, just like me. We all liked dancing on chairs and tables, and we all liked crying it out when we were frustrated. Eventually, we were sitting on planes and trains visiting each other’s homes because, overnight, the strangers had turned into family.

There are faces that I now search for as I enter a classroom, and faces I would run to as fast as I can to see at the train station. There are faces I want besides me at a concert or at a cafe as I study, and faces I remember as I pack my life in boxes moving for the third time in a year. There are faces that speak of Shakespeare, ones that speak of lab work, ones that smile in the kitchen, and ones that pop up on the occasional sunny day in the park. Now, three years later, there aren’t a lot of faces in the mix, just the ones that hold my hand in the deeper end of the sea when we’re on vacation.

by Shrila Kanth

cinnamon buns running the

cinnamon buns and running in woods autumn songs

Rhiannon (Live at Warner Brothers Studios in Burbank, CA 5/23/97) : Fleetwood Mac Fleetwood Mac never misses with a good autumn banger. This entire band reminds me of the season, and this is my favourite song out of their vast discography. This particular live version is very diferent from the original. The intro makes it feel much more magical than the recorded studio version, the chimes and Stevie Nicks’ fragile but powerful voice does the Welsh witch, which the song is written about, justice. One of Fleetwood Mac’s best performances, for sure. “Dreams unwind / Love’s a state of mind” is on my list of possible tattoos for sure.

smell that flls the air after it rains. That’s probably because this is the song I instantly play on rainy days. The acoustic guitar is able to transform any dull day into a mystical, foggy autumn day. My favourite lyric is “You got your gun to my head from the hill of high hopes / You got two bullets left, where do you want them to go?”

My favourite colour has always been orange, so it’s not a surprise that my favourite season is autumn. The amount of cinnamon buns that I make during this time of year is truly obscene. Naturally, that process must be accompanied by whimsical music. I have compiled some of my favourite autumn tunes in this list for you. Scan the spotify code for the full playlist!

by Noa Bente Maureen Prins

He Could Never Love You : Playyard, Henry Morris

If the feeling of a daydream could be captured in a song, it would be this one. All of my favourite instruments are used in this song; beautiful electric guitar melodies, a soft ride and snare in the background, all topped of by angelic vocals. My favourite part is when Henry switches from his head voice to speaking sulky into your ear, it almost feels like he’s sitting next to you on the couch. All you need for some perfect late night blues is this song and a steaming cup of tea.

Ghost, Again. : Rayland Baxter Petrichor. That is what this song makes me think of; that earthy

Mirror : Kendrick Lamar

“I choose me, I’m sorry.” Autumn is a season of letting go. A season of shedding the past and preparing yourself for change. Winter will pass, and spring beckons a new beginning, a new life. It’s a season of growth. Lamar beautifully conveys that in Mirror, and continues to do so throughout the entire album Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, it’s all about growth and rediscovery. Apart from these thematic elements at play here, I adore the melodies. They remind me of rain falling on the roof, making this one of my favourites to play while I’m baking or cooking.

Shapeshifting : The Golf Club

Werewolves, but make it groovy. This track has me dancing within a second, no matter where I am. The lyrics are super catchy and easy to sing along to, they are littered with rhymes such as ‘And I can feel a change in the air / I’ve been feeling kind of strange so beware’ this makes them fow in such a way they almost pull the words of your tongue. And a bonus: the beat just begs for your hips to move. This one is, together with Mirror, one of my top songs that plays on my kitchen speaker on a rainy day where all I do is dance and make pumpkin soup.

Only Girl : Stephen Sanchez

I can’t lie; I’m a hopeless romantic, and I adore love songs. ‘If love is an understatement / Then, honey, I’m a goddamn fool’ is the most creative line I have ever heard someone use to state that they’re in love. From my experience, a forest and a love song share the same melancholy energy. This song feels like a sunny day in autumn, running through the woods. Perhaps you’re with your lover, or perhaps you’re simply with the love you have for yourself and the trees. The sun lights up the coloured leaves like this song is able to light up your mood.

Cleopatra : The Lumineers

Cleopatra is one of my favourite historical fgures, so I explore any reference to her that grabs my attention. From Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra to this marvellous song, she’s a whirlwind of emotions. ‘I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life.’ Wow, way to hit you in the gut. This song has both made me cry and want to shake my ass (how very Cleopatra of me). The drums build throughout the entire song, it starts with a kickdrum and then adds more parts like snare flls and hi-hats topped with a tambourine, creating the perfect crescendo to dance in the forest to.

you feel about your best friends, especially when they are away. The song (I’m sure you can guess that I love electric guitars by now) does not only have beautiful instrumentals, but the lyrics speak with a deep level of profound love for your people. I don’t know where I belong, but I know I belong near the people that I love - “But these things lose all their meaning and allure / If you’re not there to witness the grandeur”

Love in the Time of Socialism : Yellow House

This song simply feels like a Van Gogh painting, that’s the frst thing that needs to be said. “There’s no life in anything when you’re not here.” If you’re anything like me, this is exactly how

Mind Over

Matter

(Reprise) : Young the Giant ‘And when the seasons change / Will you stand by me?’ Listening to this song, I close my eyes and imagine myself laying underneath a willow tree. A leather notebook in my hand, scribbling down a poem that just popped into my head. It’s so perfectly put together. The song starts of with a nice snare shufe and enchanting harmonies. It immediately sets the mood for the rest of the song: highly vibrant. The verses lead into a powerful chorus that has me spinning in circles in my bedroom late at night. The whole masterpiece is closed out by a wonderful acoustic outro that makes those earlier mentioned lyrics hit in a whole other way.

Designer FLAVIA SANDU FLAVIA SANDU

Featured

Hello there!

I’m Flavia, your local graphic designer with a passion for telling stories. Born in Bucharest, RO and based in Groningen, NL, I am currently fnishing my Bachelor’s in Graphic and Interaction Design at Academie Minerva, and discovering my creative identity along the way.

I enjoy combining digital and analog work, a workfow that I had in mind while creating my latest poster series. They consist of 5 lyric-inspired posters, that are based on various past works. I am a big believer in tying projects together and

recycling old designs or, rather, having an experimental personal archive that is constantly growing without an initial purpose, that you can always go back to. The posters include personal photography, old analog collages, parts from school assignments, and old ideas. They are a collection of the beginning of my creative development as a graphic designer.

Fashion Fatigue: How

to Build a Capsule Closet

by José Scholte

There are so many great reasons for you to start building your own capsule closet! Maybe you have just moved and had to leave most of your wardrobe at home (or only had clothes for a wildly different climate), maybe your room is surprisingly small once you move in, or maybe you are just suffering from fashion fatigue. Capsule closets might seem daunting because of the ‘limited’ options to pick from, but a narrowed-down selection is actually benefcial to you in a couple of ways.

1. Decision Fatigue:

Ever stood in line at the ice cream shop, totally overwhelmed by all the favors? We make exhausting decisions every day, every moment of our lives, sometimes without us even knowing. Decision fatigue can easily be avoided by nar-

rowing the amount of choices to make, saving you energy to use for more important things, like studying and partying!

2. Financial Effciency:

Let’s be honest, being a student is EXPENSIVE. With rent, bills, uni fees and food, we have enough things to spend our money on. By creating a timeless mix-and-match wardrobe, we save money spent on fast fashion and statement pieces.

3. Higher Quality:

By limiting the amount of clothes you buy, you save up the budget to buy things that will last you much longer. Say goodbye to cheap Primark pants and H&M bras, now you can live a life of quality over quantity. Added bonus: it’s better for our climate, so you are not just saving your money, but your planet too!

4. Time Effciency:

How long, every day, do you stand in front of your closet deciding what to wear? Personally, it is an embarrassing 30-40 minutes at least. I struggle picking what to wear, and when I fnally pick something out, it’s an item that I haven’t worn in quite a while and it turns out it doesn’t ft me quite right. Then it’s back to the drawing board for another 20-30 minutes. Imagine what

you could do with all the time saved by a capsule closet - you may save days of your life by keeping your options limited!

With these benefts in mind, let’s go over the steps that allow you to make your own capsule wardrobe, allowing you to start over with what you already have and expand on it. Honestly, the frst step is the worst one.Once that part is done, the fun begins.

Step 1 Gold Panning

To start your capsule wardrobe, you have to make some sacrifces. It is time to go sifting through your closet and say goodbye to those pieces you don’t really wear. As a guideline, use these criteria:

SMASH

It makes you feel happy/confdent

You like it

It suits your personal style

You wear it or you will wear it

It is ill ftting

The color not ft your skin tone or complexion

You own a similar looking item of better quality

It is broken, torn or stained in an unintentional way

Please be mindful of what you do with the clothes in the pass category. We live in a world with limited resources and something that might not bring you joy might be someone else’s absolute favorite. Always donate rather than throw away. If you need money, Vinted and Marktplaats are great resources to sell on. Even stained, torn and ripped clothing can have a future as a recycled material, so be aware of any textile deposits near you.

Step 2 Organize

Organize all you have left into a few categories:

Casual

Everyday skirts, anything denim, comfortable pants, shorts

T-shirts, Croptops and Tank Tops

Long Sleeves, hoodies and casual sweaters

Casual dresses, jumpsuits playsuits

Cardigans, blazers, zip-up hoodies

Formal

Formal skirts, suit pants, formal pants

Blouses and Tops

Formal sweaters

Formal dresses and jumpsuits

Suit jackets, formal blazers

Other

Yoga pants, sweatpants, the stuff you really don’t wear outside except for their intended purpose

Sports tops, seasonal tops

Longer sports tops, seasonal warmer tops

Party dresses, jumpsuits, seasonal wear

Core

Step 3 Pick Out Your Capsule

Choose all of the pieces that work best for your capsule, keeping an eye out for mixand-match opportunities. Suits, sets, neutrals and basics all lend themselves well to mixing. You don’t have to get rid of the rest of your clothes, but your capsule will be the go-to for easy dressing. Additionally, it helps to change out the capsules per season, to ensure that you don’t get overwhelmed with winter options in spring or summer. Some go-to options are black pants, lighter pants, white and/or black t-shirts, neutral coloured blazers, jeans, neutral button-ups, midi dresses with short sleeves, a little black dress, 1 or 2 suits, a nice warm knit, a slightly cooler knit, and a winter coat. These are just the more versatile basics, the must haves, and an occasional accent that works with more than 1 or 2 outfts.

Step 4 The Fun Part

Now comes the fun task of creating many outfts with these core items. Note down what you could possibly add to your capsule in order to make more options work, like a pair of jeans if you (like me) don’t always own jeans, but need some. By preparing some outfts, you will discover the gaps. I like this step so much because it helps you round out your seasonal capsules. Additionally, you can buy or use accessories to take outfts to the next level.

When it comes to the rest of your clothes, keep them near but out of sight to avoid overstimulation and decision fatigue. Additionally, don’t feel the need to have only

12 pieces of clothing in your capsule, 30-50 pieces is still workable and allows for more variation without being too overwhelming. It is not uncommon to still want to buy a trendy item. This is fne, just consider its place in your capsule, if it fts with your style, and keep in mind that trends fade quickly. Will you wear this item for the upcoming two to three years? Now that you know how to put together your capsule wardrobe, I suggest you go out on a hunt for ideas on pinterest, instagram and other websites for fashion inspiration, ways to style the items you own, and how to use items in ways you have not yet thought about. It’s all about fexibility and creativity. Go out and experiment, and have fun!

A Death in the Living Room

Written late at night, inspired by the blue lights that briefy lit up my room.

by Jonathan Sijl

My father spent his last three days with us, lying dead in the living room. Winter had only just ended. Although the snow had melted and the sun shone warmly through the window, my father still felt so cold. His face was frozen in a peaceful expression, as if he was thankful he could nally rest. We were told that a er his heart gave out, he likely only felt pain for a couple of seconds before he was o . I wonder what he thought about in those nal seconds.

Maybe he asked for forgiveness.

Maybe he thought of us – his two boys of ve and seven, his wife, his other son, his daughters... maybe even the cat? I don’t actually remember him interacting much with the cat. Honestly, I don’t have many memories of him anymore at this point.

But maybe he thought of the ones I also still remember: how I would squeeze the skin on his hand, between his thumb and index nger. How I would walk on his feet, and he would make me feel as if I was taking giant steps. Or maybe a memory from the photo book, where he held me as I slept in his arms, under a tree in the Amazon. Or maybe it was a tad less dramatic than all of that.

Maybe he just thought: “Wow, that really hurts.” and that was it.

Either way, he seemed to be at peace, at least.

He lied in the living room for three days, give or take. We painted his humble co n –his nal resting place, with cars, stickmen, clouds, the sun, our names, and every other thing we could think of. We did not question it. A er three days his co n looked rather lively, with all its drawings and colours. I even talked to him sometimes. I would just tell him about my day, or about some other small thing. I do think about how it would be to talk to him now if he was in front of me. I would probably just cry. e thought of it already does, anyway. If I really think about it, I don’t think I would say anything, honestly. Any question I would want to ask him would be met with the same dead silence I faced all those years ago. e dead silence I continued to face a er he was buried. e dead silence I still face. For some questions, the answer will never be enough.

My father spent his last three days with us, lying dead in the living room. Winter had only just ended. Although the snow had melted and the sun shone warmly through the window, I still felt so cold.

MARIA KOMOGORTSEVA

MARIA KOMOGORTSEVA

Maria Komogortseva (kwartsheli) is a russian illustrator, currently based in Groningen, The Netherlands. In their colorful works, they talk about everything that catches their mind and about their perception of life. Currently they are studying illustration and animation in Minerva Art Academy.

This illustration was made for Illustratie Biënnale 2023 in Haarlem as a part of Minerva Art Academy representation. We tried to answer the question of where a certain landscape begins and ends. All the landscapes created by the participants smoothly fow into each other, forming one long strip of an endless fantastic scenery. In my part I tried to imagine a landscape that is located not on the land but in the sky.

S T O P Boiling your vegetables

by José Scholte

When I frst started cooking for myself, I started looking less and less forward to dinnertime. The same types of boiled vegetables, served bland and boring… mushy carrots, broccoli, green beans, often interchanged with a simple pasta. I got so sick of it that I started just eating frozen bags of stir fry from Aldi. I needed to diversify the way I ate my veggies or I’d never have fun cooking and eating ever again, so I started experimenting and shaking things up with some… mixed results. I came across some variations that I eat, a year later!

ZUCCHINI LASAGNA

I prefer this with a red pasta sauce, but feel free to experiment with whatever sauce you like. You will be needing the following:

• Your preferred pasta sauce, enough to fll up ½ to ¾ s of your oven dish, depending on how many layers you want

• About ½ a zucchini per person (use more if you wish to add more layers)

• A portion of lasagne sheets per person (optional)

• Enough cheese to cover your lasagna

Step 1: Prepare your pasta sauce as usual. (Basic formula to tomato pasta sauce: Cut your veggies into small pieces (or use a bag of pre cut pasta veggies), sauté onions in some olive oil, add in pressed garlic, follow up with your proteïn and cook until done (optional), add in the veggies and a jar of tomato sauce, add in a bouillon cube and follow it up with seasoning to taste.)

Step 2: Cut thin, long slices of zucchini in order to form them into pasta sheets.

Step 3: Build your lasagna, but interchange layers of pasta sheets with your homemade zucchini sheets.

Step 4: Top of with cheese and bake in the oven following the instructions on the back of the pasta box - this is usually between 30 to 40 minutes at a temperature between 180 °C and 200 °C.

In order to prevent your lasagna becoming too watery, you must make sure you cut your sheets very thinly. If your lasagna still comes out watery, grill the zucchini sheets beforehand to draw some of that moisture out, before putting it into your lasagna. You could also leave out the pasta sheets and eat a vegetable-forward lowcarb meal instead.

CARROT FRIES FROM THE AIR-FRYER

The hardest part of this recipe is cutting a carrot. You will be needing the following:

• A portion of carrots per person

• Olive oil

• Salt

• Additional seasoning (optional)

ITCOULDN’T BEEASIER!

Step 1: Wash (peel if you prefer) and cut your carrots into fries the thickness of french fries. If you go too thick you might overcook the outside while the inside is still undercooked. Put your fries into a bowl.

Step 2: Add in sufcient olive oil to coat your fries.

Step 3: Mix/Fold in salt and any additional seasoning, and toss everything together. I make mine with italian herb mix and it usually ends up amazing.

Step 4: Cook the fries in an airfryer at 200 °C for 15-20 minutes until crispy.

Enjoy your veggie fries as a snack, a side, or throw them in the mix with actual french fries. Serve them to your friends and watch as they realise they’ve been made/ forced to eat healthy for a change!

THE EASIEST METHOD

Okay let’s be fair, we all have to start somewhere, and this is truly the easiest method of shaking things up. You will be needing the following:

• Your preferred boiled vegetable.

• Any pesto or tapenade to your liking.

Step 1: Toss your boiled vegetables in your pesto or tapenade until they are sufciently coated.

That’s it. All you need to make those boring vege- tables taste more interesting. You don’t need to do all these complex things just to enjoy your veggies. Anyone can do this, it’s truly the trick that will make chefs hate you.

EDITOR IN CHIEF, SOCIAL MEDIA STRATEGIST, AUTHOR, PHOTOGRAPHER, LAYOUT

Hello, I’m Maureen! I plan the issues, write articles, and do photography for the magazine alongside publishing it and working on our social media. I am a student of linguistics at the RUG and am specifcally interested in phonology. I’m also an author, barista, publisher and drummer. I love to be outside, sit in the sun, and listen to music. I always aim to inspire others to follow their creative pursuits and I hope this magazine does exactly that for you.

Noa Bente Maureen Savannah Hendrickse

DEPUTY EDITOR

Hey there! I’m Savannah :) I’ve dabbled in different areas in this issue (as you will see lol) — mainly writing and art. I’m studying modern literature at the RUG and am particularly interested in cross-sections between creative expression and the socio-political sphere that we currently inhabit. I’ve always wanted to be part of a space that allows a diverse community to voice their own stories and lived experiences — and this is what I know Lelygaan can do for students in Groningen.

Beth Casserly

EDITOR, AUTHOR

Hi, I’m Beth! I study English medieval and modern literature at the University of Groningen. When I’m not reading (which is rare), you’ll fnd me at a concert, writing poetry, sailing, or going on tangents about whatever I’m obsessed with that week. I adore being a part of Lelygaan magazine, and feel honoured to be surrounded by such individuality and beautiful minds.

ART DIRECTOR, SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER, CONTENT CREATOR, GRAPHIC DESIGN, LAYOUT

Hello! My name is Flavia and I’m your local graphic designer. Currently in the middle of my Bachelors in Design at Academie Minerva, my focus is on creating event campaigns, brand identities and designing for local magazines. Very excited to be part of Lelygaan and to design this issue, flled with creative individuals from all over the world. I only hope that my designs will inspire you through their words and images.

DEPUTY ART DIRECTOR, ILLUSTRATIOR, ANALOGUE TYPE

Hi-ya! I’m Ty, a third year Design student. I’m specializing in Illustration and Animation. Outside of class I spend most of my time reading comics, going to gigs and dancing. Genuinely cannot wait to share all of the work we have been doing for Lelygaan, hopefully it’ll inspire you too.

Flavia-Elisabeta Sandu Ty Victor Sanchez José Scholte

MARKET EDITOR, AUTHOR

Heya! I am José Scholte, a third year English Language and Culture student. Besides my study I work in the service industry, as I have done for quite some time. My hobbies include, but are not limited to; cooking, fashion, art, music, theater and flm. Here at Lelygaan I am the Market Editor, meaning that I’ll be your guide in the ever changing landscape of trends and fuxes, don’t worry, the ride won’t be too bumpy!

Maureen Prins Hendrickse Sandu

COLOFON

COLOFON

EDITORS:

EDITORS:

Noa Bente Maureen Prins

Noa Bente Maureen Prins

Beth Casserly

Beth Casserly

Savannah Hendrickse

DESIGN:

Flavia-Elisabeta Sandu

DESIGN:

Flavia-Elisabeta Sandu

CONTACT: maureenlelygaan@gmail.com

CONTACT: maureenlelygaan@gmail.com

(Editor in Chief) @lelygaan (Instagram)

(Editor in Chief) @lelygaan (Instagram)

Published by Lelygaan Publishing lelygaanpublishing@gmail.com

ISBN 978-90-832610-0-3

Published by Lelygaan Publishing lelygaanpublishing@gmail.com

ISBN 9789083261034

Copyright

Copyright

No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written consent of Lelygaan Publishing.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written consent of Lelygaan Publishing.

Copyright © 2023 Lelygaan Publishing

Copyright © 2023 Lelygaan Publishing