the outward appearance or apparent form of something, especially when the reality is different. noun
Dear Readers,
Welcome to Squinch’s latest issue, Semblance,BeyondtheSurface. This edition invites you to think through the divergence between appearance and reality, where hidden layers reveal more profound truths. Inspired by the lens of “macro to micro,” our contributors explore the complex ideas of perception and the unseen forces shaping our understanding of the world around us.
In this issue, artists and writers, alike, deconstruct and reassemble the familiar, urging us to look beyond surface appearances to uncover deeper insights about society, nature, and the human condition. The pieces challenge the viewer’s gaze, revealing the power dynamics, cultural constructs, and assumptions embedded in acts of observation. This issue draws you into intimate encounters, where themes of fragmentation and reconstruction highlight how we, as viewers, engage with subjects in ways that may be both empowering and unsettling.
This exploration of deconstruction as a way of understanding is both a gesture of inquiry and resistance. By dissecting traditional forms and ideas, the featured works raise questions about agency and our role as observers. The act of breaking down and reinterpreting the familiar is, in part, a liberation—a way to regain control and to see beyond our preconceived notions. Through this lens, the natural world, human identity, and social ideologies become mirrors, prompting us to consider how our perceptions might either obscure or reveal a fuller truth.
In keeping with the theme of interconnectedness, this issue reflects on our relationships to each other and to the world. From meditative reflections on nature to contemplations on the human form, Semblance brings us closer to understanding the balance between the known and the unknown, intimacy and distance.
Thank you for joining us on this journey through Semblance,BeyondtheSurface. We hope you enjoy this issue of Squinch and that these pages encourage you to question, contemplate, and perhaps find yourself seeing the world with fresh eyes.
Warm regards,
Kayla Palmer & Willa Barry Co-Editors-in-Chief, 2024
Isaac Killilea, Seule , Film Photograph, 8x10in
Solace: Photography’s Answer to Art’s Exclusion
by Willa Barry
“Happiness of the collector, the happiness of the solitary: to be tête-à-tête with things” Walter Benjamin, “Pariser Passagen”
With the ice of the Cold War still frozen solid, Sam Abell sat in his Moscow hotel and captured the essence of photography as art: its power. Abell faced Moscow’s Red Square for twelve hours to create the composition for his photograph Pears and Red Square (1) in his series “Tolstoy,” commemorating the Russia that Tolstoy immortalized. Art is and has always been a symbol of knowledge and wealth: sought after and exclusive. Consequently, a restrictive and exclusive cycle rules the art world: those who can access art are able to dictate what is, and what is not art. However, photography interrupted the cycle; as photography advanced, the realm of artistic expression grew. Photography allows almost anyone to scratch an artistic itch, making artistic expression accessible. Ostensibly, the initial opposition from the art world to photography was based on arguments from technical to aesthetic. In actuality, the fear of the art form is rooted in the consequences of accessibility – shattering the cycle. Despite the immeasurable value photography added to art, the oppositions, rooted in the art form’s accessibility, are not without merit. Photographs are embedded in our lives. A photograph captures a moment we want to remember, but the surplus of photographs, and perhaps our overindulgence in photography, has lessened its value. Pho-
tographs flood our lives, making the distinction between a photograph that is art and a photograph that is not ambiguous. Anyone can take a photograph, but what transitions a photograph from a memento to art? Just as anything in excess loses its value, photography’s value as art starts to appear insignificant as the surplus of photographs grows. A photograph starts as a moment preserved, but to retain value, a photograph must fulfill its purpose. It must connect with its viewers. When a photograph can connect with its viewer it has power, turning a photograph from a moment preserved to a reminder of a moment lost. A photograph has fulfilled its purpose when its viewer can find solace in a reality disconnected from human life. When Abell was asked why he worked on his single composition for so long, he responded “My answer: for solace” (2). The photograph’s strong yet tranquil nature, the room Abell left for personal meaning, places its viewer within the world of the photograph, connecting the two realms of reality. Being tête-à-tête with the worlds, the absences shown and felt in them sparks solace for its viewer — a display of the photograph’s power. The photograph’s power to connect with its viewer makes its art. Abell’s photograph perfectly models the art form: an inclusive medium resulting in accessibility.
Lauren Boysa, Untitled (Coreopsis) , 2024, Oil and flocking on canvas, 22 x 28in
A Reflection on Rene Magritte’s The Eternally Obvious and The Female Nude
by Caitlyn Bains
Rene Magritte’s The Eternally Obvious, created in 1930, is currently displayed in the Menil Collection. It depicts the frontal nude of a woman, cut into five isolated paintings that serve to create the entire fulllength portrait. The way the piece is mounted onto an acrylic sheet is meant to give the piece an almost life-size view of a woman, and that we as the viewer can stand in front of her almost as if she exists in the space of the real world. By deconstructing the nude, Magritte creates a nonconsensual threeway relationship between him, as the artist, us, the viewer as the unwilling voyeur, and the subject as the person being preyed on.
The deconstruction calls into question what exactly the trope of the female nude is. Is it enough to see the woman’s face, breasts, vagina, thighs, and feet? If it counts to not see the entire body then what is the most important part of the nude? Is it specifically the breasts and vagina? Or can any part of the woman’s body be leered on as a form of fine art and can we as the viewer remain a voyeur and ogle at the woman knowingly and unreservedly? Can the female nude be read as a long-standing tradition of voyeurism?
According to The MET, where a later version of The Eternally Nude lives, Magritte referred to the pieces as both objects and “Toiles Decoupes” or cut-up paintings (The MET Description). Cutting up the painting, similar to the way collages are made, implies violence. By cutting up the piece into
five individual parts, he renders the ‘woman’ unaware that the rest of her body is being displayed in such a way. The act of cutting the painting can be read in two different ways: one of violence or one of liberationone whereby making the viewer uncomfortable leads to the liberation of the subject. As indicated by the name, she is ‘eternally’ unaware of the fact that anyone who crosses her can see her in almost full nudity. According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, voyeurism is the act of, “surreptitiously viewing a person without their consent in a place where the person has a reasonable expectation of privacy.” Magritte titling the piece in this way indicates the unawareness that the viewer is there or can see the entirety of her body. While it is meant to be an uncomfortable experience for the viewer, the fact that the subject is unaware creates an uneven power dynamic. Through the deconstruction of the nude, we the viewer are made to reconstruct the image in our minds. The act of reconstructing it in our minds makes us the voyeur, unwilling or not, we are aware that our subject or victim will never know that we can see her in such a way. The act is made more uncomfortable because her gaze is on us and as we stand in front of her she can see us as well, though she will not know what we know. There is a relationship between cutting up the painting to the sawing trick most magicians perform as the subject of it is a wom-
an in the magic trick. The sawing trick today is seen as more of a fun spectacle than as an act of violence, but the history of the trick was both. The first documented display of the trick was by magician Percy T. Selbit in 1921. The New York Times article, “Sawing Someone in Half Never Gets Old. Even at 100”, describes the trick stating that Selbit’s female assistant is placed in a wooden box, making her unseen by the crowd. Then he would tie ropes to her wrists, ankles, and neck and would invite members of the audience to the stage to hold the ropes while he cut her in half. The trick became famous and in later iterations, there would be blood spilled on the floor to make the trick seem real (NYT). While the trick was fake and the assistant used a small blade to cut herself free, the intention to make it as real as possible shows casual violence towards women in the name of a spectacle. But along the lines of art, cutting up the piece as an act of liberation is reminiscent of the attack of Deigo Velazquez’s TheRokebyVenus. The voyeuristic aspect of the female nude was specifically called into question when the suffrage activist, Mary Richardson, attempted to destroy Diego Velazquez’s TheRokebyVenus. Velazquez’s piece is of the Venus, a long-standing artistic tradition of portraying a woman reclined in the nude. On March 10th, 1914, Richardson cut seven slashes into the piece as a protest against the arrest of the British suffragette, Emmeline Pankhurst. In a much later interview in 1952, Richardson also stated that she did not like, “the way men visitors gaped at it all day long” (BBC). By this account, Richardson’s attack on the piece serves as a sort of liberation of it, by cutting it up she is freeing it from the voyeuristic eye of the viewer, disrupting a long-standing tradition.
The creation of the sawing trick and the attack on The RokebyVenus were contemporaneous events to the moment Magritte painted TheEternallyObvious. Suffragette Movements took place all over Europe, as the field of feminist writing was taking shape. Whether or not Magritte had this in mind, he is questioning a long-standing artistic tradition in which women are subjects to be considered in a field practiced primarily by men.
Painting Label: Rene Magritte, The Eternally Obvious (L’Evidence Eternelle), 1930, 66 x 15 x 22, oil on five separately stretched and framed canvases mounted on acrylic sheet, The Menil Collection, Houston, Texas
George Stoica, Wooden Barrel Aged Beer , 2024, Oil on canvas, 9x12in
Isaac Killilea, Autumn’s Scene , 2024, Film Photograph, 8x10in
Elena Jordan, Can you read your favorite book? , 2024, Oil on foam board, 16x22in
The Zeitz MoCAA Museum
by Bowen Supple
When a building is left to ruin, we are confronted by the decision of how to treat its future. Options can range from costly reconstruction to abandonment. Few approaches, however, are as sustainable as adaptive reuse—revitalizing an existing structure and breathing new life into its foundation, rather than letting it waste away. This is the mission of the Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa (MOCAA) in Cape Town, South Africa. While displaying the largest collection of contemporary African art, its structural backbone is salvaged from a decommissioned grain silo, transforming it into a monument for modern art and green urban renewal. Architecture has long cycled through phases of reuse. Civilizations have time and time again practiced this sustainability by converting buildings for both religious and functional reasons. The Hagia Sophia of Istanbul controversially transitioned from a cathedral to a mosque and finally to a museum,
illustrating a site’s adaptability at the cost of its users. Rome’s Colosseum, initially a gladiatorial arena, later served as a cemetery, when the need for such a stadium expired. Projects of reuse reflect a change in humanity’s needs and the contemporary ethos of the public.
In the US, it wasn’t until the 1970s that a more formal movement of adaptive reuse emerged, sparking with the signing of the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966, encouraging the preservation and recycling of significant historical structures. Before its enactment, no formal laws or regulations decided the parameters of preservation, and early colonial projects of the 19th century demonstrated artistic liberties in building preservation instead of creative reuses of them. Yet, following the act’s approval, the sustainability of buildings was now something to boast, issuing a new wave of appreciation for a rescued structure. It is worth noting that adaptive reuse
George Stoica, Farm Over Yonder, 2024, Oil on canvas, 10x20in
brought virtually nothing new: only the title and the newfound laws of the administrative project solidified. The policy of recycling buildings found new support for such projects, and adaptive reuse became a bold way for architects to contrast antiquated structures with modern forms. Boston’s Liberty Hotel exemplifies this trend; converted from the historic Charles Street Jail, the hotel’s modern lobby reconciles the old brick atrium of the prison’s panopticon. Global examples of adaptive reuse demonstrate the ends to which the limits of architectural creativity can be pushed.
Such is the case for the keystone of Cape Town’s aptly named silo district, the recently converted grain silo: the Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa (MOCAA). After falling to disuse in the early 2000s, a team of architects rescued the silo but preserved the concrete structure to refresh it as a modern art museum, evoking a seemingly intentional brutalist tone against hollow echoes of
industrialism. The MOCAA boasts the largest display of contemporary African art and its diaspora worldwide, but more than this, the building stands as a crossroads of creative brilliance, sustainability, and prowess. Exhibitions inside display a mix of avante-garde interactive artworks and static sculptures. The art demonstrates the forefront of artistic capability, but what sets the MOCAA apart is its ability to showcase unprecedented art in a building that reflects revolutionary construction. Adaptive reuse sparks creativity in the places it revitalizes. Seen not only as a sustainable option for the future of architecture, it showcases creativity and influences forward thinking. Buildings of such nature can facilitate pioneering minds, inspired by the ingenuity of this revolutionary architectural style. Humanity can learn from such examples of creative sustainability, and individuals can experience appreciation for buildings left to ruin.
Isaac Killilea, Aegina’s Postcard, 2024, Film Photograph, 8x10in
Antío Fíle
Vera
Anna Novick, Untitled, 2024, Oil pastels, Colored Pencils, Graphite, Procreate, and Adobe Illustrator, 18x24in
George Stoica, On the Clock, 2024, Oil on canvas, 16x20in
Nature, Philosophy, and Audience; An Analysis of Shao Fan’s “In the Name of the Rabbit”
by Xinyue Jin
Shao Fan, a celebrated contemporary Chinese artist, is renowned for his ability to blend tradition with modernity. Born in 1964 into a family of Beijing artists, Shao’s upbringing shaped his early exposure to the arts. Over the past forty years, his practice has encompassed a variety of mediums, from painting and sculpture to architecture and garden design. One of Fan’s most striking bodies of work is his series titled “In the Name of the Rabbit,” which reflects his deep contemplation of time, nature, and the human-animal relationship. Shao Fan has switched to using ink on xuan paper for this series of works, creating an intense yet delicate contrast. The rabbit’s form, though recognizable, dissolves as the viewer looks closer, breaking down any preconceived notions of what a rabbit is. The act of viewing becomes an act of shared consciousness, where the boundaries between artist, viewer, and subject blur.
Shao Fan’s affinity for rabbits began serendipitously when a friend gifted him a rabbit as a pet. This everyday companionship turned into an artistic inquiry, as Shao noticed a deep, almost meditative connection between himself and the animal. He describes a moment where, by looking into the rabbit’s eyes, he felt as though he was gazing into a mirror, confronting his own essence. This relationship gave rise to a question: how does a rabbit perceive the world, and can humans step outside their perspective to see with a rabbit’s eyes? Shao imagined a rabbit seeing another as majestic as a lion; an insight that would be impossible through human perception. His fascination with the rabbit is evident in his series “In the Name of the Rabbit,” which is an evolution of his earlier “Rabbit Portrait” series. In both, Shao monumentalized the form of the rabbit, bestowing it with an almost regal presence. The rabbit in Shao Fan’s works serves as a medium through which humans communicate with the natural world. In Chinese cosmology, animals were never considered a lower order of life but were believed to possess cosmic powers. This idea is mirrored in Shao’s approach to his rabbit paintings, which convey a sense of reverence and timelessness. The rabbit, far from being a trivial or humorous subject, becomes a powerful symbol of the connection between life, consciousness, and the universe. In an analysis of Shao Fan’s work, German scholar Beate Reifenscheid observed that the artist transforms the visages and postures of animals into monumental forms, endowing
them with an ageless and eternal quality. This transformation renders the animals simultaneously familiar and yet distant, as though they exist both in our realm and beyond it. Reifenscheid compares Shao’s technique to that of Albrecht Dürer, particularly in Dürer’s Self-Portrait with Fur Collar, noting that Shao employs both Chinese and Western artistic traditions to explore the eternal within the mortal.
In addition, Shao’s artistic style represents a profound engagement with Daoist philosophy, which emphasizes the harmonious unity between man and nature. His approach to the rabbit, in particular, is not as a literal subject but as a bridge to the cosmos. This connection, rooted in both traditional Chinese painting and philosophy, invites viewers to see beyond the surface. The rabbit becomes
Lauren Boysa, Untitled (Hydrangea Beach Day), 2024, Oil and flocking on canvas, 20 x 20in
a reflection of the soul’s journey, and through Shao’s masterful use of scale and form, it is transformed into an icon of contemplation.
Shao’s art invites us to reconsider the boundary between humans and animals, a theme that resonates deeply within his work. As John Berger once noted, the gaze shared between humans and animals is charged with ignorance and fear, but also familiarity. Shao’s paintings evoke this tension, as the rabbit stares back at the viewer, dissolving the usual distinctions between observer and observed. His works capture the moment of mutual recognition between species, a moment that suggests a shared existence even in the face of difference.
Shao Fan’s “In the Name of the Rabbit” series represents an extraordinary convergence of tradition and innovation. Through his monumental portrayal of rabbits, Shao reflects on the deeper connection between humans and nature, offering viewers a shared space for contemplation. His use of traditional Chinese techniques, infused with modern philosophical inquiry, allows his work to transcend cultural and temporal boundaries. In doing so, Shao invites us to reconsider our relationship with the world around us and, perhaps, to see it through the eyes of a rabbit. His work is not merely an artistic statement but a philosophical one, rooted in the idea that we are all part of a greater, ineffable whole.
Zoë Denkenberger, Untitled 21 Paintings, 2024, Oil paint on cardstock, Various dimensions
Sarah Nagel, Tire Swing Series, 2024, Photo collage, 8x11in
Nothing Is As It Seems: The distortion of reality through media
by Barrett Walsh
Welcome to 2024; we are living in the digital age. Most of us wake up, look at our cell phones, and allow the virtual world to occupy the real one. Even though the screens used exist on a two-dimensional glass plane, we are pulled into their deeper dimensionality. Digital technology has permanently altered the structure and chemicals in our brains, leading to lower attention spans and pleasure (Pepperdine Boone Center). In the evolution of media, it has become harder to distinguish what is accurate from manipulation and to see how our minds are affected by the spread of ideologies. People’s perception of reality has always depended on the world around them. It is the human experience to consume information: from birth till death – or even before birth. Studies have shown that a mother’s diet and listening habits while pregnant influence their child (Mennella). Exposure to social, political, ethical, and other ideologies comes through our connections with family, community, and now devices. We consume endless information: from the television to social media to the billboards scattered along the highway. In Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus, the writer Jean-Louis Baudry argues that the media’s apparatus or form can affect the media’s message and even become the message itself. Now, the ideology is that of a digital apparatus. The danger of this medium is its likeness to reality and its ability to trick us. To better understand how technology and media capture reality, we must understand its development through time. The history of media arguably begins at the start of language and communication itself, however, to narrow the scope of this article, let’s start at one of the most important visual developments…
The Invention of the Photograph
The development of the photograph began with projection. The Camera Obscura, which translates from Latin to “dark chambers,” is said to be first described in 400 BC (Artland). The invention consisted of small rooms where a single hole let in light from outside. The result was an upside-down image of the outside scene. Scientists and artists used the camera obscura to view the sun’s eclipses and trace subjects. Theorist André Bazin, in “The Ontology of the Photograph,” said with the Camera Obscura, “The artist was now in a position to create the illusion of three-dimensional space within which things seem to appear as our eyes in reality see them.” This visual tool began the distortion of our perception because of its similarity to our perception. The primary distortion is that the image projects upside down, but the image can change size or skew depending on the surface and angle of the light. The change of perspective may separate the reflection from reality, but the likeness to the actual subject was an immense development
for art and science. The next step was making a permanent impression of time and space. In the early 1800s, Nicéphore Niépce, a French inventor, began experimenting with light-sensitive substances and made the first device to capture and reproduce an image. He called his work heliographs or sun drawings, using chemicals like silver chloride and asphalt to invent the first photomechanical reproduction process. He then passed his work on to Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre, who discovered that silver halide crystals would arrange as an image on a film plate after light exposure. In the beginning, exposure times were 20 minutes to an hour, but with more chemical experiments, new processes reduced the exposure to a minute and then to seconds. Eventually, a photo would be captured in less than a second, introducing one of the powers of photography: immediacy. A picture could now represent a singular moment, the present where the camera found itself translated onto a piece of film, waiting in the canister for development.
Film Development
Photography underwent many other phases before the first film camera became accessible to the general public. Initially, photographers had to become part scientists in processing and developing (NGA). However, when Kodak’s camera became available to the world
in 1888, people would send the camera back for Kodak to process the film. Kodak’s slogan was, “You press the button, we do the rest” (Kodak). Eventually, darkrooms would become a more popular place for photographers to develop films independently. A standard step-by-step chemical process for developing and printing film became known, and many photographers still use it today. The process allows photographers to transfer their photos to paper and adjust the size, proportions, exposure, and more.
Because of the photographer’s influence, the photograph’s result is not always like reality. Another power of photography is manipulating the light from the moment the image was captured to whatever the photographer intends. So, while there is still the element of realism in most photographs, there is also the impression of the photographer’s eye, desires, and ability to capture what’s intended. Even before a photographer takes a photograph, they must pay attention to the exposure and composition of the image. On a camera, especially when shooting manually, there are settings including the ISO: the sensor’s sensitivity, the shutter speed: how fast the lens opens and closes, and the aperture: how wide the lens opens, which affects the depth of field. These all combined, plus the focus, angle, and lens used, all reflect what the final image will look like. So, while a photograph may look similar to reality, many mechanical and chemical processes separate the capture of light from the perception of the physical place and the perception through human eyes. Reflecting on the beginning of pho-
tography as a chemical process can help break down how photographs capture and manipulate reality. The chemical reaction of the actual light into an image is a specific process that separates reality from the image. The image may look like reality, but it is an imprint of the light. The invention of photography was more like the human perspective than any other medium and shook the world of artists attempting realism (National Gallery of Art). Finally came an art form that bled accuracy and dependency, an art form that could visually share information, stories, and spaces. Coupled with the Printing Press, the photograph became featured globally in newspapers, magazines, and more as an extension of writing or on its own. The new visual expression of real places and events would forever change the world. The problem was the need for more awareness of what else could be done through the visuals: misrepresentation and misinformation. Photographs can spread information that seems natural but is manipulated by the photographer and the photographer’s environment. The deeper part is that photographers themselves may need to be aware of the ideas they share because the machine is capturing reality.
Apparatus Theory
The apparatus theory became a widespread discussion in the 1970s, paralleling Marxist theory. As explained by Louis Baudry, the apparatus of cinema is similar to a dream because of how audiences take in what they are watching. As they sit still, they allow their mind to be taken over by the visuals; they lose control and are “unable to differentiate between self and the other ideologies of the film” (The Cinematic Apparatus). According to Ralph Stephenson, former director of Paris Pulman Cinema, “In presenting a background, an environment, and characters who behave in a certain way, every motion picture may be said to be propaganda.” The ideas communicated to the audience may be on purpose; for example, the communist film Soy Cuba, directed by Mikhail Kalatozov, is meant to highlight the struggles of Cuba and the time in history before and during the revolution. This film is widely viewed as propaganda because of how the stories come off as genuine but are manipulated to express communist values.
The film was financed by the Soviet and Cuban governments to represent a pro-communist narrative. Through the use of characters that seem genuine, viewers are exposed to a crafted reality. A viewer without knowledge of the film’s goal may allow themselves to believe the information being spread without questioning its validity. The apparatus theory emphasizes the power of the visual narrative and the psychological impact that cinema has on a viewer. Without realizing it, audiences are taking in beliefs on reality that may shift or take over their perspectives. Sergei Eisenstein, a famous screenwriter, director, and film theorist, said, “Cinematic exquisite essences and worth rely on how to metamorphose the ‘real world’ occurrences within the orb lenses of the cameras.” In other words, reality is changed via the lens of the camera.
The apparatus theory can also be applied to other media types, especially photography since the cinematic apparatus uses the photographic apparatus itself. The photographs we take are representative of the ideologies in and around us. One of the most famous photographs is MigrantMother by Dorothea Lange, commissioned by the Farmers Security Association. The photo depicts a mother and her children. A face of worry, messy clothes, and dirt-covered skin communicates the hardship of a family in poverty during the Great Depression. The photo itself does not present explicit political ideas; however, the powerful visual was used to support the ideologies of the FSA. At the time, the FSA was a progressive government movement
that wanted to help those struggling in rural America. The images captured by photographers like Lange helped share the experiences of farmers in America to promote the need for government aid. Viewers see photographs transported to a different time and place than the present, not necessarily to where the photograph was taken, but a place based on what they can see and feel through the photograph.
Apparatuses Now
The first digital camera came 100 years after the film camera. A computer inside the camera processes the light and codes the information that the lens captures bit by bit. Using zeros and ones, the computer classifies the order, color, and brightness to display using pixels. The result is an image more like reality than any film photograph but less physically connected since it was no longer a chemical reaction. Many photographers accustomed to film feared how photography would change, and they viewed the digital methods as mechanical rather than artistic. However, digital photography introduced more power to the photographer to control the image how they desire. A photographer can always decide what they want the photograph to look like, but with technology, it has become easier to bring these ideas to life. This is through the camera, but especially the editing software. Editing software can help reduce distortion like perspective errors created by the camera lens and code translation, color, brightness, and more. The
software can also help create an even more manipulated image. For example, people can edit their features and make themselves look completely different in an image than in real life. Overall, the digital connection with photography made the medium even more powerful. The impact of the viewer is to feel more connected to the reality that the photographer wants to portray, whether that be closer or farther from the physical world.
In the 2000s, the internet became the new way of sharing digital information, and before we knew it, we were all using mobile devices, apps, and social media. These digital apparatuses became a combination and extension of media like photography and the mobile device, in combination with software-ications like social media, has had a severe impact on society’s interpretation of reality. Those born with technology at their fingertips—and even those without—have become normalized to social media. We constantly take in posts from friends, acquaintances, strangers, and, most importantly, famous people. These images make us feel connected, like we know what their lives are like and what they go through, and lead us to misunderstand their reality. This is especially true because of more developed editing, or face filters, which edit reality before
the photo or video is captured. Even the idea of a profile picture may seem simple, but we choose a singular photo to represent who we are and what we look like, which is impossible, a singular photo will never represent a person in their entirety. We have let ourselves be taken over by the digital world and its mesmerizing perfection, satisfaction, and overstimulation. Social media has developed to have algorithms meant to control us, to capture what we like and say. Our feeds depend on our realities, but they are distorted to keep us from wanting to leave the app. The algorithms of apps like Instagram and TikTok have increased screen time by over 30 minutes per day since 2013, according to Exploding Topics. There is a clear sign of danger in the apparatuses being used, yet a lack of awareness or interest in making a change.
Now, artificial intelligence is frequently in the news, and websites are implementing the use of AI, such as Google’s Gemini, Instagram, and Facebook’s Meta AI, and programs like ChatGPT explicitly geared for AI. Recently, Sewell Setzer, a ninth grader from Florida, was driven to suicide by an AI chatbot. Setzer had been manipulated into believing the chatbot was real and that killing himself would bring them together. AI is the training of a computer through masses of data to react based on what a person inputs. AI is trained to act a certain way; for example, AI assistants respond like humans, provide information, and help manage tasks. The ability of AI as an apparatus to copy reality by combining information, images, and code to spawn a new response based on a prompt or trained action is a powerful tool but also dangerous to those unaware of its faults. The effect of meshing reality allows the AI to return freakishly “real” responses, whether an answer to a question or a generated image that looks real. Many people are confused over what is real and what is not. The power of videos and images is now even more dangerous because they may not even be real photos taken by a camera. In recent news events, like the War in Gaza or the 2024 U.S. Presidential Election, many AI-generated photos and videos were made to manipulate viewers. There is a serious cause for concern, and this is just the beginning.
The power of media, whether it is digital, analog, text, or visual, is something not to be underestimated. We, as humans, absorb ideas, and it is up to us to process information and decide what is accurate. The evolution of visual narratives started with a deep chemical connection with reality and has now shifted to an AI-powered creation of images. How do we know what is real? How can we determine what to believe?
At the end of the day, we must be conscious. The apparatus theory itself is based on the fact that audiences allow themselves to drift into a place of unconscious consumption of information, giving the information more power to manipulate what we think. Regardless of the form of media, we must stay aware that everything we are shown has been edited or manipulated. Even a raw, unedited image was taken on purpose through the eyes of someone with certain ideologies. Questioning what we see, what we hear, and what we know is more important than ever. So, separate yourself from what you see daily, take a breath, and reflect on how and why it is being shared. Give yourself the power to decide what you believe.
Sara Sierra-Garcia, Organic, 2024, Photo collage, 8x9in
Farm Fresh, 11x7in
Locally Grown, 8x6in
Göbeklitepe; Deciphering a Stone Age Oddity
by Emir R. Tali
Göbeklitepe is an archeological site located in Southeastern Turkey and the site itself is a small mound situated in a flat landscape. It went unnoticed by almost everyone as a natural feature and was passed over by American archeologists in the 1960s as insignificant. Until 1994, when Klaus Schmidt, a German archeologist, noticed unusual T-shaped limestone pillars partially exposed on the surface and initiated a comprehensive excavation in collaboration with local archeologists. The process revealed a huge amount of unexpected information: multiple circular and oval structures were buried under the mound, each with massive stone pillars arranged in distinct patterns. The oldest layers have been dated back to around 9600 BCE—this predates Stonehenge by several millennia!
To be a little more exact, Göbeklitepe consists of a series of circular enclosures built from limestone pillars weighing up to 20 tons and reaching heights of 6 meters. These pillars are arranged in concentric circles, and two larger central pillars are surrounded by smaller ones. These enclosures are also connected by stone walls and are layered on top of each other, indicating new structures built on top of older structures across centuries. The most remarkable thing about Göbeklitepe, however, is the in-
tricate carvings on the pillars. There are depictions of animals like foxes, lions, boars, birds, snakes, and insects.
It’s likely that they represented deities and spirits for the people who carved them, being very sophisticated and detailed. In fact, it’s likely the case that the T-shaped pillars represent humans due to depictions in low relief carvings of arms, hands, and items of clothing like loincloths on some of the pillars.
It is generally believed by archeologists today that Göbeklitepe was a ceremonial or religious center for the Stone Age hunter-gatherers in the region. Each enclosure may have had specific functions or might have represented different tribal groups participating in shared rituals, and this is also supported by the lack of residential debris. It must have had significant spiritual importance to the local population for them to devote so many resources towards its construction, maintenance, and expansion over time.
Of course, Stone Age civilization is generally viewed as extremely primitive, where people tend to picture small nomadic bands of hunter-gatherers with limited social complexity. Historically, it was believed that the development of agriculture around 8000 BCE in the Fertile Crescent was what led to settlements and permanent communities. Thus, the complex societies were capable of
undertaking large communal construction projects. Scholars generally hold the belief that organized religion and monuments were a product of agricultural societies with surplus resources and fixed social hierarchies. They did not think that hunter-gatherers could build something as large and long-lasting as Göbeklitepe. Göbeklitepe upended these long-held assumptions by showing that Stone Age humans were capable of having complex societies and being able to construct monuments before agriculture was even around. They were able to coordinate labor forces, move construction materials around, and employ skilled carvers and artists to develop faith and worship centers. This carries profound implications: instead of agriculture allowing religion to form, it may have been the motivation behind settling down in communities, and developing agriculture may have been motivated by the need and desire to support religious activity. Our prehistoric ancestors were far more advanced than what we have traditionally given credit to them for, and it’s incredible that we can ascertain this through the art that they left behind for us.
Lauren Boysa, Untitled (Incarnata), 2024, Oil and flocking on canvas, 20x20in
Lauren Boysa, Untitled (Callisia), 2024, Oil and flocking on panel, 10x11.5in
The Art of Reinvention: Svetlana Stepanova’s Transition from Painter to Printmaker
by Mia Hand
Art can be an expedition into the intricate landscape of self-exploration, where each brushstroke and every creative decision reveals new facets of identity and personal insight. For Svetlana Stepanova, a sophomore in the College of Fine Arts at Boston University, painting has expanded her creative horizons for the past ten years: until this past semester. Although painting has been the cornerstone of Stepanova’s artistic identity, her latest venture into printmaking marks an exciting evolution in her practice. Stepanova’s journey from painter to printmaker reflects both the challenges and rewards of navigating different artistic processes, through her work, she skillfully balances thematic depth and textual details. From a young age, Stepanova was invested in the art world, but more impor-
tantly, painting. Her family encouraged her creative explorations, as she enrolled at a local art school, the Nancy Stephen Gallery and School of Art, around age ten. Here, she would ignite a lifelong passion for art, inevitably landing her at Boston University last year, where she studies painting. Stepanova is passionate about oil paints above all else, as they communicate through shape and color rather than lines and shading, allowing for flexibility and movement in the craft.
“For me, there’s more pressure in drawing, as each mark feels like it must be precise and permanent. In contrast, painting feels less stressful because it enables you to revisit and make mistakes. Whenever I paint, I
Portrait of Svetlana Stepanova in Boston University’s printmaking studio. Photo by Mia Hand.
trust that I’ll find a way to illustrate anything… there’s so much freedom in painting while still maintaining a certain structure. It’s the perfect balance for me as an artist.”
She considers painting as a relationship between autonomy and discipline. Stepanova’s art exists between these two ideals, following enough structure to create a narrative painting while removing pressures of permanency.
In the studio, Stepanova’s process is a delicate dance between intuition and intention. She begins each canvas with a gestural drawing—often a loose, expressive wash that sets the foundation. From there, the piece evolves as she introduces color, refining the composition with both spontaneity and precision. This rhythm has become second nature to her, creating a space where her creative impulses can flow freely within a structured framework. When asked how she feels while painting, Stepanova lights up:
“I get super eager when I start painting! Eager to see how my hands will transform my vision into a final product that has such a different effect than what I see in real life or photo references. While it can be a bit stressful at times, the thrill of experimenting and mixing vibrant colors makes it all worthwhile.”
In every brushstroke, shadow, and shape that Stepanova creates, she feels the stresses and joys—the ups and the downs. The rollercoaster of emotions is essential to her routine; she puts a bit of herself into every piece she creates, transforming and analyzing as she assembles a narrative through oil. When asked how she feels about her new venture into printmaking, a medium whose artistic process is strikingly different from that of painters, she said, “Again, I
get so excited to imagine how the final product will turn out. Since this is a new process for me, I really have to trust myself.”
Stepanova is enveloped in a completely different way of creating, but more importantly, approaching the concept of art. Her comfort of existing in the in-between, between the structure and fluidity of painting, is wholly uprooted. Each mark she meticulously carves into the block is ever so permanent. This permanency challenges Stepanova’s comfort as an artist, navigating the anxieties of trying something new and the freedom of experimentation. Yet, as with any new endeavor, printmaking comes with its frustrations. “Printmaking forces me to think more graphically and focus less on tiny details. Instead, I find myself capturing my subjects in simplified yet fully representational forms. I can no longer easily blend colors to depict light; now, I consider how various marks can create the effects of shadows and highlights and think about colors in layers.” This exploration into printmaking culminated in a recent print titled The Inner Workings, which embodies Stepanova’s evolving perspective. “I wanted to think about what it feels like to examine the ‘inner workings’ of a mechanism,” she explains. “It’s about revealing the mechanics behind functionality while evoking wonder about design and engineering.” Creating this print was intricate and fulfilling, involving multiple steps—from sketch-
Svetlana carving wooden block. Photo by Mia Hand.
ing to carving, inking, and printing. “I started with a drawing, transferred it onto a wooden block using carbon paper, and then began carving. The final printing process is exhilarating. Lifting the paper off the block and seeing how my print has transferred is my favorite step.”
As Stepanova reflects on her journey through printmaking, she recognizes its profound influence on her painting practice.
“What I’ve learned will definitely inform who I am as a painter,” she notes. “I think it’ll enable me to paint more representationally and consider graphic approaches in my work.” The ongoing dialogue between the larger, overarching themes and the intricate details continues to shape her evolving artistic identity, bridging the macro and the micro in her creative process.
For Stepanova, art is an ongoing process of discovery and transformation. “Art is about exploration and evolution,” she says. “Each medium reveals different facets of who I am as an artist. Through painting, I explore color and form; I discover lines and spaces through printmaking.” The tension between these two processes enriches her practice, encouraging Stepanova to consider how different artistic languages can reveal new ways of seeing and understanding the world.
Svetlana rolling ink on to wooden block. Photo by Mia Hand.
Svetlana lifting print off wooden block. Photo by Mia Hand.
Svetlana Stepanova, The Inner
Contributors
Executive Board
Kayla Palmer - Co-Editor-in-Chief
Kayla is a senior studying Media Science and Religion. She joined Squinch in her sophomore year and loves how it has allowed her to meet so many people who are passionate about the visual arts. Kayla hopes to continue to grow the Squinch community and collaborate with other organizations at BU.
Willa Barry - Co-editor-in-Chief
Willa is a junior studying the History of Art and Architecture with a Business minor in Innovation and Entrepreneurship. She has been a member of Squinch since her freshman year and loves how it allows her to express her love for contemporary art in a flourishing community.
Elena Jordan - Creative Director
EJ is a junior studying the History of Art and Architecture, Chemistry, and Visual Arts. She joined Squinch Magazine during her sophomore year with the hopes of finding a diverse community of creatively minded individuals to collaborate with and has enjoyed, since joining, working with the Squinch team. In this issue, EJ explores book banning and the invisible implications of text on a page.
Svetlana Stepanova - Digital Design Director
Svetlana is a sophomore pursuing a dual degree in CFA for Painting and CAS for Architectural Studies. She joined Squinch last semester and has loved this club for its like-minded community and as another outlet to create art. Svetlana primarily works with oil painting, but with this issue, she explored materiality and varying processes for making art.
Gabrielle Wylie-Chaney - Senior Editor
Gabrielle is a sophomore double majoring in the History of Art and Architecture and Italian and is a Cinema, Media, and Urban Studies double minor. She has been at Squinch for the past two years and loves to foster her deep-rooted passion for the production of media.
Mia Hand - Outreach Director
Mia is a junior studying the History of Art and Architecture, with a minor in Political Science. She has been a member of Squinch since her sophomore year. It provides her with a supportive community to engage in a creative space to write and refine her ideas while also allowing her to converse with a broader audience around the evolving art world.
Julia Cheung - Creative Marketing Director
Julia is a senior studying Graphic Design. She has been a member of Squinch since junior year, and loves promoting artists by designing advertisements.
Contributors
Artists
Lauren Boysa
Lauren is a senior and is pursuing a dual major in Painting and the History of Art and Architecture. She has been involved with Squinch Magazine since the beginning of her junior year. One of Lauren’s primary objectives with her contributions is to raise environmental awareness through her art and accompanying artist statements, leveraging the magazine’s wide reach to effect positive change.
Zoë Denkenberger
Zoë is a sophomore studying Painting with a minor in Innovation and Entrepreneurship. She joined Squinch magazine this year and enjoys creating art that attempts to capture society in a more comprehensible way. Her pieces in this issue exemplify this theme, lacking in broader and often overbearing preconceptions to evoke a sense of slowness, gratitude, and relief from the overwhelming reality of the wider environment.
Arin Gokdemir
Arin is a senior studying Cultural Anthropology with a minor in Film Production. He enjoys art of all kinds, but especially art that speaks to the human condition and broader social issues. He joined Squinch Magazine this year as a photographer. In his free time, he produces music for films and video games and hopes to study architecture to become an urban designer.
Isaac Killilea
Isaac is a senior studying International Relations with a focus on Environment and Development, complemented by a minor in Visual Arts. This year, he joined Squinch Magazine and is excited to be part of a vibrant, creatively driven community. Isaac is excited to bring his photography to the magazine, eager to capture moments that resonate with storytelling and creativity!
Melina Menghi
Melina is a sophomore studying the History of Art and Architecture with a minor in Visual Arts. This is her first semester in Squinch, and she is thankful to have found such a collaborative and fun creative outlet.
Sarah Nagel
Sarah Nagel is a senior studying International Relations and Architectural Studies with a minor in Visual Arts. She joined Squinch this past year to get involved in more creative pursuits and surround herself with other creatives and art lovers! Her pieces in this issue, from the Tire Swing series, stem from a place of nostalgia for her childhood home in rural Pennsylvania, where she lived until she was 13 years old. In her triptych, she hoped to convey a sense of fragmentation of memory over time as the images of the tire swing- a symbol of her childhood - become more and more fragmented and abstract.
Anna Novick
Anna is a sophomore studying Graphic Design with a minor in Business Administration and Advertising. She joined Squinch as an artist during her freshman year and has loved being a part of this creative and driven community. In this issue, she explored the unseen work that goes behind mass production; specifically for clementines. Anna is excited to continue growing her artistic skills with Squinch and to help spread positivity and knowledge with her art.
Sara Sierra-Garcia
Sara is a sophomore studying the History of Art and Architecture with a minor in Visual Arts. She joined Squinch her freshman year and has enjoyed being part of such a driven community of artists. She works mostly with mixed media photo collages but enjoys working with other mediums such as ceramics as well. Her artwork in this issue centers on the strawberry farming industry and tells the story of the migrant workers who make the harvest possible but often go unnoticed and mistreated.
George Stoica
George is a junior studying Biochemistry and Molecular Biology. He joined Squinch during his sophomore year and enjoys being in a community that appreciates art. In this issue, he wanted to display the source of where things in daily life might come from. A person welding a metal frame, a farm where crops are grown, and a wooden barrel where some beers are aged.
Writers
Caitlyn Bains
Caitlyn is a junior studying the History of Art and Architecture with a minor in Asian studies. She has been a member of Squinch since her sophomore year. Squinch has given her a collaborative space filled with like-minded people which has fostered her creativity.
Kate Bernstein
Kate is a senior studying English with a minor in the History of Art and Architecture. This is her first semester as a member of Squinch, and she looks forward to working alongside fellow writers and artists this year. Her research interests include women in modernism, book arts, and avant-garde photography and filmmaking practices.
Xinyue Jin
Xinyue is a senior studying the History of Art and Architecture. She has been in Squinch since her junior year. Squinch has provided her with a space to write without restrictions about her thoughts on East Asian contemporary art.
Bowen Supple
Bowen is a junior studying Architectural Studies with a minor in French. He joined Squinch this year as an extension of his interest in art, writing, and culture. Through his blog post and piece for Semblance, Beyond the Surface, he has used Squinch to channel the medium of architecture, relating its artistic, cultural, and urban characteristics to its position as an expressed form of human thought.
Emir R. Tali
Emir is a sophomore studying Economics & Mathematics alongside Data Science. He joined Squinch Magazine this year and has enjoyed writing about art history.
Barrett Walsh
Barrett is a senior studying Journalism with a concentration in Multimedia Storytelling. She began writing for Squinch in 2023 and found a welcoming outlet for expression and connection with other creators. After graduating this fall, Barrett plans on working as a photojournalist and continuing her education in graduate school. Check out her website barr.press!
Marketing and Outreach
Andrew Kim
Andrew is a freshman studying Chemistry with a specialization in chemical biology in the pre-health track. This is his first semester working with Squinch and wishes to better help show the wonders of his fellow writers and artists.
Sarah Tocci
Sarah is a sophomore studying Advertising. This is her first semester as a member of Squinch. She joined to continue her love of design for marketing and outreach purposes.
Works Cited
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A Reflection on Rene Magritte’s The Eternally Obvious and the Female Nude by Caitlyn Bains Marshall, Alex. “Sawing Someone in Half Never Gets Old. Even at 100.” The New York Times, January 29, 2021, sec. Arts. https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/01/29/arts/magic-trick-100years.html.
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Khan, Sarah. “Zeitz Museum of Contemporary Art Africa Cape Town, South Africa - Museum Review.” Condé Nast Traveler, https://www.cntraveler. com/activities/cape-town/zeitz-museum-of-contemporary-art-africa.
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Nature, Philosophy and Audience; an Analysis of Shao Fan’s “In the Name of the Rabbit” by Jasmin Jin
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Beate Reifenscheid: “Shao Fan—From Portrait to Countenance,” collected in Yu Han 1984-2018, Eastern Publishing Co, Beijing, 2018, p. 9.
Nothing Is As It Seems; The Reality of What We See by Barrett Walsh
Baudry, J., & Williams, A. (1974). Ideological Effects of the Basic Cinematographic Apparatus. Film Quarterly, 28(2), 39–47. https://doi. org/10.2307/1211632
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Research Guides: Dorothea Lange’s “Migrant Mother” Photographs in the Farm Security Administration Collection: Introduction. (n.d.). https://guides.loc.gov/migrant-mother
Rosenblum, N., Newhall, B., Grundberg, A., & Gernsheim, H. E. R. (2024, September 27). History of photography | History, Inventions, Artists, & Events. Encyclopedia Britannica. https:// www.britannica.com/technology/photography
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Göbeklitepe; Deciphering a Stone Age Oddity by Emir R. Tali
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