Fall 2022

EDITORIAL BOARD

EDITORIAL BOARD

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF

Daniella Conde

Zoe Golomb

MANAGING EDITOR

Kaitlyn McGowan

LEAD COPY EDITORS

Sofia Anrecio

Caroline Levine

CREATIVE EDITORS

Noah Towbin

Taylor DiPietro

DESIGN EDITOR

Courtney Chalmers

WEB COORDINATOR

Marinna Stopa

Gina Crespo

Peyton Harris

Aidan Bryant

Sriya Kommineni

Kyle Caliendo

Isabella Dy

Kayla Gates

Sarah Douglas

Chloe Grant

Michelle Mu

Niloufar Saririan

Summer Bossman

Meir Schochet

Ev Stirou

Susan Rossano

Brayden Newlin

Madelyn Markman

Madeline Browy

Tara Kari

Laurie Griffith

Ilan Kohan

Sophia Eberhard

Rory Angelus

Milana Mudra

Kayla Ehrlich

Emily Miller

Timi Sobanjo

Zoey Thomas

Andrea Bravo

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

Dear readers,

Welcome to the Fall 2022 issue of PRISM Magazine! Autumn is a time of rebirth and growth, and this is a theme we wanted to reflect in our magazine. The aim of this issue is to celebrate the art of Renaissance and escapism, seeking to expand our creative horizons as we explore new forms of inspiration in our everyday lives. We hope this issue inspires you to create in your own life..

We are so fortunate to have been able to work with an amazing team of PRISM staff writers, copy editors, photographers and designers this semester. We would also like to thank the Honors Office and Dr. Johnson, specifically, for offering their guidance and dedication to the magazine. All of these incredible individuals have helped make our first semester as Co-Editors-in-Chief a success.

Thank you for reading PRISM’s Fall 2022 Issue!

Sincerely,

Daniella Conde and Zoe Golomb

A FLORIDA STORMSTORMSTORM

With eyes closed, I feel the breeze that seldom travels far from shore. The waves which dance, wind in the trees–they give a hint of something more: Something lost, until it’s found— that is loud but makes no sound. Something strong and almost nigh, something etched onto the sky.

All who live have known this touch of nature’s breath and as such they feel her pause without fear, even though her storm is near.

May she paint the clouds with ink, fill our lungs with damp and wink, for we know the beauty of the calm before the storm above and the clouds, longing to release the rain that gives the world its peace.

With opened eyes, I feel the breeze, that pulls me close and reveals to me the beauty of a storm’s dark tease. O’ Florida, how I love thee.

Story by Caroline Levine Design by Courtney Chalmers

SLOWING THE ART OF

Autumn is my favorite season—as much as seasons can really exist here in Florida. But celebrating every time the temperature drops yet another degree, sampling every pumpkin-flavored item on the menu of every coffee shop within reach, and making a mess trying to bake Halloween-themed treats with friends: these are the things that make fall feel like fall. And even as the progression of the fall semester brings ever-increasing workloads and the impending doom of midterms, I always know that with the start of each school year, I get to look forward to celebrating my favorite season through Halloween decorations, fall festivals, and trips to the pumpkin patch.

But here’s the catch—I realized I never actually end up doing any of these things.

A Saturday morning trip to the fall-themed farmer’s market turns into an excuse for me to stay in bed because I’m just too tired from the school week. All of those Halloween-themed baking supplies seem like something fun to stare at on the shelves at Michael’s as I rush in to buy project supplies and promise myself I’ll come back for them later. And the pumpkin spice drinks I’d been waiting to try all year never quite find their way into my daily caffeine fix. I’ve never actually experienced autumn, and not just

because I live in a subtropical climate with no real seasons—I’ve just never actually gotten myself to do any of the things I promised myself I would. Fall has just become something I get to watch from my TV screen.

For me, it’s always been way too easy to fall into a mindset of constant work. When I’m not working, I feel guilty for leaving my studying behind. In trying to save all my leisure time for the weekends, the stress of the week leaves me too tired to do anything by the time Saturday rolls around. I’ve been living in an endless loop of work and study, while life has been passing me by. Meanwhile, I become too burnt out to even pick up my computer.

In the incessant day-to-day of college life, it’s easy to feel guilty when not giving in to the constant push to work. However, there is both beauty and necessity in slowing down. When I look back on my college years, I want to find more than empty days and blurred-together moments huddled up in the library. I also want to remember each moment of growth, every new experience, familiar moments spent with friends, the shifts and rhythms of daily life, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, and my first time trying a maple cinnamon latte (spoiler alert: they’re not for me, but at least I tried it). In a world that barely gives us time to breathe, it’s up to us to slow down and create time for the little moments that make our daily lives a life.

Story by Zoe Golomb Design by Courtney Chalmers

Florida, Framed

Inspired by paintings at the Harn Museum of Art in Gainesville, Florida

IAn unripened orange is concentrated on the wiry reflection, unspoiled.

Purity petrifies the ink-feathered bird returning to overcast brush.

Unshapely boscage, allured by liquid sun, is baited by beauty so perceptibly,

but its intrigue spoils the lake’s margins with lineations of rot.

Planetary striations, deific and fiery, fill the fatiguing sky before it blends

to meet the marsh in pigment.

“Golden Sunset” by George Inness

II

Peacock-feathered palm trees flaunt their headdresses, brushing ambiguous clouds unsure of whether to gather.

A coquina-bodied building regards an apatite tide, attentive.

Salt-dried shrubbery begets a golden coast

marbled with verdant marshland, a quaint pond emulating the lookout’s pearly hue.

Coconut palms brace eastern winds, one’s stem arched

like a figurehead decorating a ship’s bow. Sea oats sprawl

along the coastline as foam-bearded waves caress the shore.

Gulls glide along gusts, wings widespread, toward angel-bodied clouds

made ablaze by a budding sun. Ochre becomes dark slate

as rain draws near.

“Beach Scene” by Harold Newton

Poem by Kaitlyn McGowan

Design by Michelle Mu

Photo Courtesy of Michael Rivera, Wikimedia Commons

END THE STIGMA: THE VALUE OF HUMANITIES MAJORS

THE VALUE OF HUMANITIES MAJORS

A perspective that has been predominant since the mid 1900s is that there is one track that is the primary guarantee of success: science, technology, engineering and math (STEM). While they can not be devalued, STEM majors have been emphasized as the main mechanism towards accomplishment and achievement by society. As a result, humanities majors have been pushed to the side. They are often viewed as less intensive, fulfilling, and beneficial in comparison to STEM majors. This has created a stigma around securing humanities degrees and has actively discouraged students from pursuing them. Even with aspirations of graduate school and following a pre-professional track, receiving a degree from a humanities subfield has been viewed with skepticism. However, the value of these degrees has been grossly underestimated.

The foundational skills and deep thought processes that humanities curricula evoke are transferable for any career and should be openly respected.

Humanities majors include English, history, philosophy, religion, arts, literature, linguistics, and ethnic studies. These programs result in students delving into the intricacies of human interaction and the world, trying to find ways to understand the past, present, and future. This incorporates analysis of culture, ideas, trends, historical events, written works and ethics. The ability to have this wide-ranging perspective is extremely valuable as it allows individuals to see topics in a new light. This can lead to new ways of thought and promotes a versatile knowledge base where students explore a plethora of topics. Humanities courses and related majors require intensive reading, writing, research

and analysis, and they encourage students to think differently and challenge their pre-existing beliefs. Despite the uniqueness and freshness of humanities programs, students often take the courses to complete their general education requirements and then avoid them for the rest of their time in college. Students declaring or continuing to pursue a degree that falls under the humanities is even rarer. One reason that this has occurred is because of the specific mindset that has been thrust upon students from the economic reality, pressures from family or peers, and society overall. This mindset perceives humanities degrees as useless in the job market. Students on college campuses across the globe believe that workers only want STEM degrees and that they are a safer option for a steady income. People with this mindset are paralyzed by fear of the future and view STEM as the key to a job. The dedication individuals have for STEM should not be discouraged, stifled, or minimized in any matter. These majors are extremely valuable and play a necessary, beautiful role in our world. If one has an interest or devotion to a humanities field, one should not feel inadequate for following their passion. The degree should not carry a stigma or be automatically viewed as lesser just because of their differing nature.

To combat this stigma, it is necessary to recognize the value in receiving a humanities degree. Some of the skills cultivated by humanities majors include those in writing, critical thinking, research, analysis and communication. The humanities offer individuals the opportunity to uncover new perspectives about the world around them and subsequently peel back the layers of themselves. It requires them to learn how to effectively put their ideas into words on paper. It helps craft them into stronger writers by forcing them to build arguments out of logic and evidence and to explain those ideas succinctly and persua-

sively. This results in individuals developing effective nonverbal communication techniques. Humanities coursework also develops critical thinking skills that help students to see complex connections which allows them to reach well-thought-out conclusions. It pushes their thought processes to account for a plethora of influencing factors which promotes deliberate, objective decision making. Furthermore, educations in the humanities spur qualitative research that takes form in extensive analysis, usually in regards to nuanced texts. This advances students’ abilities to apply different vantage points to varying topics and comprehend complicated ideas rapidly and systematically.

The aforementioned skills are permanently required for nearly every job and career path. They help advance individuals on multiple levels, making them more multifaceted thinkers, learners, teachers and people. It is understandably easy to get lost in the looming net total of future paychecks and decide that a STEM path might be a better strategy. However, humanities majors mustn’t be discredited for the benefits that they bring. Each degree serves a purpose, constituting a method of personal growth and enlightenment. Students should follow their desires and study what fascinates them without embarrassment or feelings of inferiority, no matter the field that they choose to study.

Story

by Susan Rossano Design by Courtney Chalmers

LOAD FIRST THE JUST IT’S IT’S FIRST THE JUST LOAD

Going to college is a big step, and it can often be a scary and stressful time. Leaving parents behind brings a new sense of freedom, but also one of responsibility. We no longer have Mommy and Daddy to guide us down a clear-cut path. The transition is undoubtedly difficult, but here is some good news: you are definitely not alone in your struggles. I know I have encountered many challenges along the way during this first semester of my freshman year.

As a freshman, I have had my fair share of awkward and confusing moments, but there is one in particular I thought I should share. It was my first time doing the laundry since moving in. I had been dreading this moment for a long time, and I waited until I had practically run out of clothes before heading down to the treacherous laundry room. Alas, it was inevitable. The fateful day had to come eventually, and when it did, I found myself heaving a giant sack of clothes that probably weighed three fourths of my body weight. My first mistake was waiting as long as I did. Everything became so much more difficult than it needed to be.

When I made it to the laundry room, I took out my clothes, separated them into lights and darks (while frantically calling my parents and asking for advice, of course), and chucked them into the washing machines. I had no idea how to use any of the features on the washing machines and ended up washing my clothes with the default settings, which was annoying. By the time I figured it out, I already had one load going. I moved on to the next washing machine, threw in the detergent, and tried desperately to make sense of the settings. I asked someone nearby for help, and thankfully they were kind enough to explain the process to me. I felt accomplished knowing I had now managed to figure out how to separate my clothing successfully and use the washing machines correctly. I was so happy in fact, that I forgot to put the detergent into the third washing machine with the rest of my clothes. Without a care in the world, I put my clothes in, chose the settings I wanted, paid, and shut the machine. Then I saw my Tide pod sitting there. I dejectedly looked from the Tide pod to my clothes, which had just begun the process of being “washed”. “This is fine,” I said to myself, shaking the entire debacle off. I waited another 45 minutes before the cycle was complete, and I’m pretty sure that I made the same exact mistake the second time around, but I’d rather erase that from my memory. When all of my clothes were finally washed, I

put them in a dryer machine. I then waited for another 45 minutes before coming back and realizing that my clothes were still wet. I chalked it up to setting the temperature too low, so I put it on hot this time. After another 45 minutes, I came down and saw that once again my clothes were wet. Now, if you’ve ever done laundry at Hume Hall, you know that there are two rows of dryers with one stacked on top of the other. I put my clothes in the bottom dryer, dryer number 1, which had two control panels on it. I used the panel on the right, simply assuming it to correspond to the dryer I chose. I was wrong. The panel that went with the dryer I chose was the left one, and there was an arrow pointing down to it to signify that fact, but of course I hadn’t paid much attention to that. At this point, I was so used to messing it all up that I gave up. I picked the correct dryer, waited another 45 minutes, and came back. I was relieved that my clothes were finally dry, or so I thought… I shoved them into my bag and lugged it upstairs, glad the experience was over. However, it wasn’t over, and at this point I began believing my laundry had some sort of vendetta against me. I was peacefully folding my clothes when I realized that about a third of them were still wet. By then it was about 10 p.m., and I just wanted to sleep. There was no chance I was going to go back down and dry my laundry again, so I just laid them out to dry.

The clothes that did dry had their own problems. For whatever reason, there were strange dirt stains all over my clothes. The stains were weirdly hardened and looked like some kind of mud that someone had smeared on. There was also a dirty shoe print of the same nature on my favorite pair of pants. I took a sponge and spent a good hour and a half scrubbing off the stains. These clothes had gone from the dirty laundry, into the washer and dryer, and back into the bag. Not once did they touch the ground, and I most definitely did not step on any of them. To this day, I still have no clue how those stains appeared.

We all make silly mistakes during our first year in college. Mine just happened to be multi-layered and extremely unfortunate. So, whenever you think that your life is a mess, and you have no idea what you’re doing, think back to this. There’s a first time for everything, and we will all learn how to do the laundry eventually.

Story by Evanthia Stirou Design by Madeline Browy FALL

NORMAN TUNNEL POEMS

Bad Rhymes

They didn’t tell us college was two identical twin XL beds, mattresses of navy blue.

Eating breakfast at midnight, if at all, and dancing on a Wednesday like we had nothing to lose.

Late nights in the library, together, when dropping orgo lab was all we might have had to choose. Then one day I woke you up with the spray paint, rosy red for me and forest green for you.

Dreams change. You win and lose. But when it’s all done, we’ll still be those stick figure girls, just us two.

New Year’s Day

As she waits to change the channel, her chest aches. Too-thin ribs about to break and palms sweating, she prays the excitement surrounding the Citrus Bowl will distract her.

The football players shake hands, and the screen fractures into a storm of memories. Her blue fingernails click her messages open and shut, and a litany of gold well wishes marches in like a platoon.

The flock of vultures descends, years spent waiting to shred each word and photograph. She pauses on his familiar face, the eye at the middle of the tempest, and lets herself reminisce of hair spilling across a pillow, red palm fronds tangling with ferns soft and brown, while a suitcase lurks in the corner. Nicotine, mixed drinks and hope fill her mouth as two gold chains tangle and separate.

She breathes deep. It’s been a year now. All games must begin and end with the brush of a palm.

Poems by Laurie Griffith

Photos by Laurie Griffith

Design by Courtney Chalmers

The City of Gainesville through its murals

How can you feel connected to a place you barely live in? In the grand scheme of my life, my time spent in the city of Gainesville will barely make up five percent of it, and the time that I have spent living in the city will be even less than that. So many people pass through the University of Florida without knowing that they lived in this city, even though these two entities are reliant on one another. I could feel this divide as I walked down University Avenue at 8:00 a.m. from my parking spot downtown to the university campus; I walked through streets that didn’t know me and saw them for the first time.

At the end of my second-year spring semester, I made a promise to distance myself from the University of Florida and its campus culture, a promise to instead find a bridge across the seemingly endless cavern between me and the city of Gainesville, the city in which I lived. I quit student organizations and got a job as a policy research intern with the city. I joined the board of the bird-focused conservation group Alachua Audubon Society and started volunteering at Sweetwater Wetlands Park. I stopped going on campus as much, finding myself instead in parts of the city I barely knew existed. And on my daily walks from city hall in downtown Gainesville to the edge of UF’s campus, like drops of rain right before the downpour, fragments of this city revealed themselves to me. I learned the history of the streets, the stories of my neighbors, and the threads that connect the two.

It might have taken me 17, 50, or maybe just three times to see this mural and look into my own eyes instead of just hers. The colors aren’t pretty; they’re vibrant and alive, as real as the chains on her wrists, and as real as the determination in her eyes, my eyes. “Shackles” by Daniel Vélez-Climent at 200 NE First St. is a reflection of the way survival and struggle, especially for people of color and underrepresented groups, create strength and perseverance. I saw it as recognition, as a hand reaching out from the inside of a once-locked door and pulling me through. “Shackles” gave me eyes to see other Gainesville neighbors, their colors, their eyes, and the people who gave Gainesville its tenacity and ability to take steps forward in the face of a state government determined to drag them backwards. Her eyes have followed every injustice with rapt and resolute attention; her eyes gleam with the assurance of years past, a promise that we are not dead yet (Figure 1).

But where have we come from? And what do the whistling words of the past say about our future? In the most literal sense, the region we now call Gainesville came from a swamp, a sunken, boggy area teeming with greens and blues that could rival

that of UF’s mascot. We came from wetlands, ecotones inundated regularly to the point of deoxygenation to allow for once-living organic material to accumulate and create hubs of life for countless flora and fauna. Then we came from imperialism, from genocide and slaughter. Then came systemic hatred touted as truth, and exclusion of people of color, people like the Florida Highwaymen. In a burgeoning hub of intellect and culture, the Florida Highwaymen, like many Black artists, found no welcome and no consideration. So, they made the roads of Florida their homes and places of creation, driving along the east coast of Florida making and selling landscapes of the palm-ridden, water-embodied nature of the state. More of a movement than a distinct group, there were inspired Highwaymen working separately and together across Florida. The style was eye-catching, a canvas set aflame in fluid movement and undeniable color. They worked quickly to sell as many paintings as possible and the novelty of a masterpiece made in less than an hour caught the attention of buyers throughout the state. Al Black, one of the last living Highwaymen, painted a mural in Gainesville this year in August at 602 N Main St. and what I found in this mural was the desire for the self-expression and understanding denied to artists like Al Black and found in the authenticity of the Florida landscape. The ghosts of our state’s past are hovering off the corner of Main Street, buried underneath the roads we drive on and the buildings we inhabit, and captured by someone who used to be a ghost to others himself. There are still areas of Gainesville that mirror the mural without even trying, and there are still people who wander these streets in isolation. A lone, cut-down tree sits on the left-hand side of the painting, and I saw the loss, the distance, the emptiness flowing through the brushstrokes of its bark. A memorial of what was and a reminder of what is (Figure 2).

The heart of downtown Gainesville holds pieces done

by a handful of eclectic artists, making it difficult to find any underlying connection between them. And yet, one of Gainesville’s strengths lies in its pockets of connected diversity, a diversity driven both by the influx of students from various backgrounds and the diversity of thought present in the residents. People who have, as one of the various murals inside of the Downtown Parking Garage laments, “known rivers, ancient, dusky rivers.” Streams of consciousness connecting seemingly broken threads of unfinished stories with breaths we all breathe and depths we could sink to. Every mural in and on the parking garage is one sentence in a disjointed paragraph about the city of Gainesville, a city filled with words that do not always make sense together. But one of the first sentences you find within the garage is a warm balm to the chaos of every mural, “This was a Parking Lot, Now it’s a Peaceful Oasis,” a space to pause more than your vehicle (Figure 3). Right next door is a giant boy contemplating his toy cars; he looks pretty

sits in the bottom corner, oblivious to the history of struggle and current fight against gentrification (Figure 5). Yet, two feminine figures, one older and one younger, face one another, related in color and size, separated by man-made doors and signage. The artist, Jenna Horner, is a muralist in Gainesville whose feminine and floral elements speak life to the walls they reside in. Both women have a bold strength mixed with a soft silence, choosing to look at the other and see all that lies within and without their own realities. I thought of the times I had the same kind of equal footing with another human being; I thought of the older, seemingly less relevant lives that had found me and chosen to see me as more than a young passerby. I saw the partnership in acknowledgment that could be between the students and the neighbors, to “grow deep like rivers” and meet each other in the multiplicity of the water.

When I started to search for the murals myself instead of just noticing the ones I passed daily, I began to find small treasures in corners I would have never given a second glance. I stumbled upon a series of murals by the artist Nico right next to the local plant store Serpentine, larger-than-life sized paintings of the most beautiful, everyday faces, likely belonging to beautiful everyday people (Figure 6). “We need to invent a formula,” they said, “to repair this apathetic worldview because it has become an epidemic”.

blue. What adolescent existentialism has made him so? Why can I see my own concerned wistfulness in his young eyes? Am I just a child, playing with smaller versions of adult follies in my miniature life with my miniscule job and tiny salary? Or are we all just entertaining ourselves with unimportant priorities of our own making, turning ourselves blue? A mural on one of the outside corners of the parking garage begs the question, “What are the Aesthetics of Reinvestment?” It questions the economic and social costs of community reinvestment, most often translated as gentrification. A Florida orange blossom and Seminole Chief Osceola are layered under the Union Station Condos and a jogger that now occupy what used to be their home (Figure 4). Jane Jacobs, a journalist and activist who argued that the renewal of urban spaces did not respect those who lived there, stands with A. Quinn Jones, a man who fought for equal education access for African Americans and helped create the second fully accredited African-American high school in the state of Florida. In between them lies Porters Community, a historically black community in Gainesville that has fought against gentrification many times and the Continuum, a graduate housing unit representing the way student housing threatens such communities. A bored coffee drinker

One of the people’s eyes stared back at mine as I read those words, demanding empathy and recognition. Every mural in Gainesville breathing warmth into the walls of this city deserves rapt attention for the people who give it life and the history it holds. This city is so much more than just the backdrop to a college experience; it’s overflowing with substance and the opportunity to be in a community with those who can see it. Down the street, next to the studio of the local wildlife artist Jim Wilson stands “Hands Full of Dreams” by German artist Case Maclaim; two rich, inviting figs sit sliced open in weathered, yet gentle hands (Figure 7). I saw a hand outstretched in an offering, all I had to do was acknowledge and accept.

Story by Kayla Ehrlich Design by Rory Angelus

Photos by Kayla Ehrlich

PRISM’s PRISM’s

Daniella’s Music Picks

2022 has been an outstanding year for music, with artists new and old adding new work to their repertoire and having the freedom to tour, now that in-person gatherings have returned to the norm. For me, three albums stand out as the most cohesive and captivating bodies of music that have been released in the past 365 days.

“Harry’sHouse”

by Harry Styles

It’s no coincidence that this album has been nominated for five Grammys and broken several Billboard records – it’s just that good. After three years of musical silence from this popular rockstar, he took over the charts with the release of “Harry’s House” in May of 2022. Songs like “As It Was” and “Late Night Talking” topped the charts for weeks, and Styles has been sharing this album with the world live during his still-ongoing Love on Tour.

Styles has a unique ability to encapsulate personal

“Midnights” “Midnights”

by Taylor Swift

Arguably the most anticipated album release of 2022, “Midnights” broke the record for the most-streamed album in a single day in Spotify history on the day it was released. This does not come at surprise to anyone, as Taylor Swift has set countless precedents for the music industry. “Midnights” is a collection of tracks that tell stories from sleepless nights in Swift’s life, and her signature relatability permeates throughout the album.

experiences and emotion through songs in a way that allows them to speak for themselves. He is known as a reserved celebrity, reluctant to share too much in interviews and on social media. However, his real fans appreciate his sheer vulnerability through music; he tells us all we need to know through his songs. The aforementioned fans have increased in size considerably since the release of this masterful album – at last, the few who were immune to Styles’ charms have seen the light.

After the release of “Midnights,” Swift announced her Eras Tour – her first world tour since the Reputation Stadium Tour in 2018. The demand for tickets was so monumental, the presale broke Ticketmaster’s site. Since this tour is the Eras Tour, she will be performing songs from all of her ten studio albums. Now, as fans eagerly await the opportunity to see Swift live, we’re all wondering which songs from “Midnights” she’s going to perform.

by Sabrina Carpenter

For me to consider an album outstanding, it needs to not only showcase talent, but also a commitment to authenticity. Sabrina Carpenter is a smaller artist than Taylor Swift and Harry Styles, but she had been plunged into the spotlight due to her involvement in a highly publicized love triangle involving Olivia Rodrigo and Joshua Bassett. In the wake of her album release, that love triangle should be the least of anyone’s focus.

Carpenter is a gifted vocalist who wields her pen with bravery, writing about experiences that are supremely

personal. The fifth album track – “because i liked a boy” –sets the record straight when it comes to the public’s ill-informed opinion of her. This album is all about her speaking her truth, but even more so about her as a complex individual who shouldn’t be reduced to a celebrity scandal. After all, shouldn’t we care more about a young girl’s musical talent and hard work than her love life?

Story by Daniella Conde Design by Courtney Chalmers

“Harry’sHouse”

“emailsican’tsend” “emailsican’tsend”

Netflix Documentary exposes the Fyre Festival scam

(And no, the attendees did not meet Bella Hadid.)

Have you ever attended a music festival— and was it worth the hype? If your response is an unenthusiastic “sort of,” consider yourself lucky because you weren’t an attendee at Fyre Festival. In 2017, entrepreneur Billy McFarland dreamt up an app called Fyre to help people book famous musical artists and entertainers for their own events. To promote it, McFarland conceptualized a music festival. Fyre Festival would be the event where people could party alongside the celebrities they could book on the app, all on a luxurious private Bahamian island. The star-studded musical line-up and the promo videos graced by models like Bella Hadid sold to many attendees. But while the attendees expected to step into the novel world of “The Great Gatsby”, they actually stepped into “Lord of the Flies”.

Chris Smith, American film director of the 2019 Netflix documentary “FYRE: The Greatest Party That Never Happened” captures the epic fail that was Fyre Festival. The cast includes the many people who were exploited by event creator Billy McFarland, such as his event organizers, marketing team members, Bahamian service workers, and festival attendees. The viewer can watch interviews with these

people and footage from their months working with McFarland— and marvel at the lengths McFarland went to make Fyre possible. To McFarland, “the show must go on” meant putting construction and food service workers on 24-hour working shifts without pay, lying to investors, and pressuring an event organizer to sexually exploit themself to make up for not paying a company. Thankfully, the company postponed their fee deadlines instead. But still, nothing was too far for McFarland.

The documentary tells the story of Fyre Festival from the perspective of these people that were so convinced of McFarland’s promise and so charmed by his confidence that they followed him until the end. The end of the Fyre Festival was the arrival of attendees who saw that their ‘luxury villas’ were tents put up—like those in refugee camps or hurricane displacement victim camps—but with worse mattresses. There were no musical artists, no food or water, no electricity, and no security. There were also no private jets nor private islands— that much was a lie as well. And while this apocalyptic end was in sight, McFarland’s team propelled toward it with a hope that blinded them of it.

“You know, you just go with somebody’s…it’s that energy, and the belief system, and you just go and you go and you go. And then when do you stop? And no, I never thought it would end like this.”

The candidness of the interviews is what makes the Fyre Festival documentary by Chris Smith so captivating, human, and even relatable. While we could laugh at the music festival that went down as an epic fail— watching its downfall through the hopeful eyes of the exploited team reminds us that we have been there too. We have all believed so much in something and taken blows and punches for it because of our undying hope that it might just work. Be it a relationship, a friendship, a goal, or a dream, we refused to turn our backs on it because we had already gone in too deep

afestivalasgood asfantasy: afestivalasgood asfantasy: PICKS PICKS

and would rather see it through to its natural end than cut it off inorganically, before it was undoubtedly over. Game over at last is never comforting, but teaches the necessary lesson to have better judgment. All in all, Chris Smith’s “FYRE: The Greatest Party That Never Happened” is a compelling look at the lengths people will go to see their wish through and is a must-see for its candor.

Story by Madelyn Markman Design by Sriya Kommineni

MY PLAYLIST LIFE’S

My life is a playlist, full of the melodies that define my place in the world. The best of memories in the brightest and highest of notes, and the worst in the sorrowful lyrics of broken hearts and tears. In times of joy, I bathe in the feeling of infinity that accompanies a favorite piece. In moments of adversity, I find solace in the blind acceptance of music. Music is exciting, depressing, motivating—to every moment, it gives meaning.

In the face of hardship, I find myself questioning my path’s meaning. While there have been more than a thousand bad times in this world, I have found that confidence can be inspired by music. Sometimes, a particular song just hits all of the right notes to pull up my spirits when I can’t let go of stress and piece together my sanity to push through anxious tears.

For all souls, I believe there to be one person to quell the tears of loneliness and create wholeness in our hearts, meaning I feel that someone will someday tenderly cradle every piece of my heart, bring it home to me, and walk with me in the world. On the horizon, I can almost hear the most gentle of notes when they grace my life: tender bursts of intimate music.

Following bouts of achievement and triumph, I naturally turn to music to celebrate the joy of accomplishment and the avoidance of frustrated tears. My feeling of contentedness is flaunted in bright, peacocking notes, and I cannot help but burst with newfound pride and meaning. Whether it be a lasting or evanescent impact on our world, there must be an element of your life that you want to go flex, a masterpiece.

When someone you love moves on from this life, a piece of you may go silent, no more bright lights or lively music. Even as loved ones pass away and leave this world, we must be more than the grief, the defeat, the tears. Considering the night we met or our shared moments of meaning, I have learned to dwell on happier memories of him, not bleaker notes.

Music also serves as the cornerstone of good memories, the high notes. I am reminded of instances of the growth and development of a new piece of my personality, my identity, my sense of intrinsic meaning. I overcome obstacles. I assume new identities. I move forward to music. Certain songs remind us of how we come of age and mend the tears in our identities; through them, we may end up on top of the world.

I am defined by my life’s playlist, the notes, the lyrics, the music. Whether I’m listening to a joyous piece or one that draws tears, music is my soul, my meaning, my reason, my world.

Poem by Noah Towbin Design by Courtney Chalmers

THE IMPORTANCE OF STUDENT ART APPRECIATION

For the second year in a row, the University of Florida remains one of the nation’s top five public universities. The university’s prestigious status is most often accredited to its advances in STEM academics and the global impact of its scientific research. For the student body, however, this success in STEM tends to overshadow a crucial facet of the university: the dedication to and celebration of the arts.

University of Florida’s College of the Arts is home to over 30 majors within five different schools. One of the schools, the School of Theatre and Dance, is composed of an enthusiastic student body pursuing degrees relating to theater, acting, design, stage management, and dance. Throughout each fall and spring semester, the School of Theatre and Dance runs a season of student performances and shows.

This past October, I had the privilege of attending their 2022 production of “Cabaret”. I attended the performance during its opening weekend with a friend of mine, Kaitlyn. Now, Kaitlyn and I have made it a point to take advantage of on-campus arts events during our time here at UF. Between dance showcases, University Sym-

phony Orchestra live performances, and art exhibitions, we have made the effort to engage in various types of artistic expression. Each dance is exciting, each symphony is enchanting, and each student-led art exhibit is extraordinary. But, “Cabaret”? This production was incredible. The powerful intention behind this performance by the cast and production crew was unmistakable. The production value was tremendous, with the execution of the production itself being flawless. The set design was visually dynamic, faithful to the show’s settings, and appropriately adapted to the size of the stage upon which the production was performed. The time and care that went into this production were further made apparent through the cast’s excellent execution of complicated choreography (as choreographed by Andrew Cao), and the vocal quality expressed by each student contributing towards a singing role.

Just as soon as the show began, the audience was captivated by the performance. As for myself, for two and a half hours I was able to leave my unfinished essays behind and forget about the stress of impending class registration. I was instead consumed by the intricate set design, the live

music, and the cast’s take on this classic musical. When the performers made their final exit from the stage, the crowd sat in a shocked silence for a moment before collectively rising from their seats to deliver a well-deserved standing ovation. Kaitlyn and I were so amazed by the performance that we left the theater only able to express our awe through sputtering half-sentences and chaotic hand gestures. Of course, once we could form coherent thoughts, we went on to tell the rest of our friends that they needed to get tickets and see “Cabaret” before the show’s run ended.

I now realize that Kaitlyn and I were rewarded twofold by making the time to see “Cabaret”. By going to see the show, we took a moment to step away from our coursework. We all know that it’s important to take breaks in between assignments, or from studying. However, when students have back-to-back exams, all notions of taking a healthy break are often thrown out the dormroom window. Going to see “Cabaret” gave us an excuse to leave our desks for a moment to engage in something other than our heavy course load. Most importantly, it functioned as a productive break. We connected with the art and celebrated its expression by our fellow Gators for a few hours. I think it’s fair to differentiate this from the types of breaks that include procrastinating on approaching due dates through mindless scrolling of TikTok or counting down the days until the end of the semester. Secondly, through attending and promoting student-centered performances, we are able to encourage other students to engage with future artistic endeavors run through the University of Florida. Art and art appreciation are so incredibly important to students’ ability to create a holistic worldview, as they allow individuals to express themselves creatively and give them the opportunity to learn from and be inspired by the work of others.

Recognizing this, I wanted to know if the students participating in the performance felt the same. I spoke with Skylar Geraghty, who played the role of Kit Kat Girl. I asked for her opinion on the value of art appreciation and its importance as a subject for students to engage in.

Geraghty responded, saying that, “student appreci-

ation of the arts is vital, as it provides opportunities for new perspectives and encourages empathy and connection in a way that nothing else does.” She also expanded upon her response, noting that, “the arts challenge people to embrace a different point of view in an all-encompassing way, and in doing so, facilitate a unique type of learning and growth”.

I completely agree with Geraghty. The type of connection facilitated between students, and introspectively within oneself, through art appreciation is unique. On account of this, the imagination, creativity and skill required to execute impactful and inspiring pieces and performances should not go unnoticed or be understated within our university.

Take a productive break from your work, and challenge yourself to participate or be immersed in some form of creative expression. The School of Theatre and Dance’s current event and show season runs through April 2023. You can visit their website (as listed below) for more information on how you can appreciate art within our Gator community.

Link: https://arts.ufl.edu/academics/theatre-and-dance/current-season/

Story by Chloe Grant Design by Courtney Chalmers