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If you’ve talked to a Zoomer lately, you’ve likely heard one of us declare our efforts to become more whimsical. Whimsy is the essence of curiosity and creativity that made the average childhood experience so self-reliantly amusing. It helped us enjoy the world and all it had to offer before the baggage of "real world" problems started to weigh us down. Ultimately, I've found that it is something that many young adults are hoping to reintegrate into their lives despite being more busier and tired (at least compared to the ones we led 10+ years ago). A few years ago, I felt depraved of whimsy. I recently saw this Thread (I know, nobody uses Threads) that summarizes how I feel most of the time. When you're someone as Type A as me and just have  to get shit done (or die trying), you need to operate on deadlines, timelines, and calendar invites - all of which are the exact antithesis of childlike wonder. For context, between 2023 and 2024, I finally faced the music of my post-grad blues:  I was not happy because I could no longer rely on the bubble of youth to serve me my social life, education, and passions all on a single silver platter. Yes, I acknowledge that I’m privileged to even have had those experiences as part of my reality, but that didn’t make the adjustment period any easier. Whether we like it or not, each of us are solely responsible for our own happiness and growth in this world. We’ve got to find a way to take advantage of the time AND ENERGY we have - even it feels like we never have enough of either of these things. So one day I decided to pump my schedule full of stuff that would force me to get out there socially and creatively, regardless if I had a buddy to face these new experiences with or not. And the more that I did this, I became emboldened to become someone who builds these opportunities for other people. I believe that this shift in mindset led to me to the idea for Club Rambutan. I became hungry to increase MY surface area of luck , and I wasn't going to wait for anyone else to feed me. Anyway, flash forward to now, in the great year of 2026 A.D., and my life is a lot more chaotic (in the best way). I recently started a new job (I switched from being in nonprofit for 3 years to an operations role at a start up a little under two weeks ago), am committed to making progress in my fitness journey, having a number of amazing relationships to grow, and I am of course still running Club Rambutan. I got exactly what I worked for. But regularly being at the mercy of whatever my Google Calendar says has worn me out a bit. And again, I don't mean to sound ungrateful for having to tend to these amazing things, but I realize now that I need to grant myself a little bit more flexibility and open ended opportunities to feel more grounded once again. So, although this sounds SUPER counterintuitive, my effort to become more whimsical is to do more . Specifically, more random and non-committal stuff. Enter: Craigslist. Hello, gig economy! Is the website sketchy looking? Sure. But if your sense of discernment is strong and you’re brave enough to look past the outdated user interface that practically hasn't been updated since the 2008 recession, you are bound to find a side quest that will expand your worldview. Don’t believe me? Here’s a brief timeline of my most recent gigs once I started treating CL like it was the morning paper.  August 2025: Brand Ambassador (Kali Uchis - $200) This was my first time truly delving into the world of CL. Around this time, I was looking for ways to offset the costs that went towards putting on The Pyres of Desire, which was Club Rambutan’s first-ever fashion show in September that year. Although CR has a separate bank account for all its expenses (which I think is worth mentioning that I’ve single-handedly built up over the last 2.5 years,  partially out of my own pocket before we started selling event tickets and merch), TPD was the most expensive event we’ve ever put on. I was worried that our expenses would be too much in the red, so that’s when I turned to CL in hopes for some quick cash.  I really lucked out when I applied to an extremely vague listing for a Brand Ambassador at Chase Center. On that very same night, I got a voicemail saying  I’d be working at Kali Uchis’s brand activation booth during her San Francisco show on the Sincerely, Tour , namely to sell body oil and butter from her lifestyle brand, Homebody by Uchis . At first I thought it was a scam! I was convinced that because they requested a picture of me in the initial application, they saw that I was a girl and made up a fake opportunity attached to a popular female celebrity in order to lure me somewhere and traffic me. I even tried searching up the name of my CL contact who was ~allegedly~ working with an event staffing agency, and even though no solid results turned up, I still trusted my gut and showed up to where they told me to go anyway. And lo and behold, it was the most fun 5 hour shift I’ve worked in a while (and I had just come from my actual job!).  Additional Perks:  Going backstage during Kali Uchis’ set, free makeup and clothes from the brand, and being complimented by many lovely women while working the activation. I ended up using this money to reserve a private room at a local bar in Oakland for the TPD after party. October 2025: Earring Model (Yellow Owl Workshop - $200) At this point, I had fully caught the CL bug and the only remedy was to secure another cool gig. Transparently, between the Uchis gig and YOW, I learned that it was crucial to be consistent in checking Craigslist (basically on a daily basis). People in the Bay Area STAY posting on CL and so there’s usually always a new flow of opportunities that are posted (but consequently are quickly claimed).  At Yellow Owl Workshop, I sat in a very roomy photo studio for 4 morning-time hours in the Mission District (before I went to my actual job) and hung out with a very hip, very cool millennial photographer and product manager (shoutout Aya and Eric!). You can see my right ear modeling a variety of enamel earrings on their website today , although my lobe was definitely sore after wearing 30+ pairs. Additional Perks:  Free lunch, free merch (I got a cute printed reusable grocery bag that can hold up to 40 lb), cute dog to entertain me, and two (2) free vintage tin type portraits of myself (courtesy of Eric and his vintage large-format camera and dope red room set up!) December 2025 - February 2026: Research Participant (Misc. Companies - on avg. $25/hour) Over these last few winter months, I’ve committed to more boring gigs as a research participant. I found that if I don’t have an immediate goal to spend a couple hundred bucks on, I’m less inclined to get out there because there isn’t a pressing need to make money. However, I did decide to book a last ish-minute trip to do my first ever solo vacation in Vienna and Copenhagen, so these gigs have been coming in clutch. For this purpose, I’ve gamified Craigslist; I’ve already paid for my plane tickets and other related accommodations, so I track how much everything costs and try to treat these gigs as a way to “discount” the overall price of everything by making as much of that money back. The main gigs I did were: Talking to a computer for 2 hours by typing in a dark cubicle with a heavy spiky helmet strapped to my head (I can participate up to 10 times, and I’ve completed this 6 times already and always between 7:30 and 9:30 AM) Reading  (sometimes aloud, sometimes silently) a very boring series of passages on a screen while wearing headphones even though nothing ever plays on them  (I can do this unlimited amount of times; I’ve completed this twice because the research facility is far from my apartment) Go to a rental house in Mission Bay and walk into different rooms doing miscellaneous actions while wearing a vest of wires for 30 minutes (this was a fun one; I got a $150 giftcard of my choice in exchange for my time)  I should mention that these RP gigs are usually offered at different time frames throughout the day, so I would choose the early morning slots before I went into my actual job. Am I crazy? I’d rather use the word “dedicated”. Some of them also let me choose how many hours I wanted to participate, usually from 1 to 4 hours at a time.  Now, I will admit that money was definitely an incentive for me to get out there and do these things. However, I also chose to see these as silly opportunities to lean into the unknown and sometimes LARP with strangers (main example: I’d ask to be addressed as “Angela”, which is my second name, instead of my first name that I’ve always gone by). For me that felt extremely whimsical.  Unfortunately, I foresee my CL adventures being put on pause for the time being (I got a new job so yay! But also boooooo), but I could not recommend this website enough for people who are dying to try something new. So if any of this resonated with you, I wish you the best on your journey [back] to whimsy – I’m confident that you’ll achieve it!

“Creativity is not just about writing novels, or composing a piece of music. Creativity means to revolt  against injustice. The revolution against injustice needs creativity. Without creativity we cannot revolt.  Creativity means a way of life, a philosophy in life. In your relationships: even in love relationships, you need creativity; in friendships, you need creativity; in any human work or endeavor, you need creativity. And creativity is not just something coming from heaven to fuel genius people. No, we are all creative. Everybody in this hall was born creative…Men and women, poor and rich, Black and white, Swedish or Egyptian, we are all born creative.” - Nawal El Saadawi, “Creativity, Women, Dissidence” at Clandestinofestival Press If you’ve been keeping up with Club Rambutan at all, you might have seen promotion for our event ICEBREAKERZ, and our declarative statement: “ Art is political. ” This may seem like the first time CR has declared an outwardly political stance, but to me and those on our team, art has always  been inherently political, and creation has always been inherently revolutionary.  It’s been hard not to feel despondent recently. In an expanding landscape of AI slop, goonmaxxing , ragebait, and real-world violence, the widening gyre of capitalist hellscape and despair is seemingly unending. I had a conversation with a friend recently and it spanned, as it often does, from the ongoings and discontents of our personal lives to our agitation with the world and politics. We spoke about our issues with the new Wuthering Heights  (2026) movie and somehow got to the topic of Ursula K. LeGuin’s short story “ The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, ” and an agreement that revolution requires imagination.  Our conversation reminded me of a class I took briefly at UC Davis that focused solely on utopian fiction. It was fascinating.  I read fiction voraciously growing up when I think many of us did, during the wave of Young Adult dystopian fiction that would shape our childhoods— The Hunger Games, Divergent, The Maze Runner, etc. Dystopian fiction has been generally well received in pop culture for a plethora of reasons. Aside from proving itself as a highly profitable genre, it can more directly and cathartically mirror the risks, injustices, and dangers of pre-existing society. It is imaginative in the way of warning, speculative in ways that validate existing fear, and builds potential atrocities upon historical events. Margaret Atwood, when criticized on the violent events of The Handmaid’s Tale,  famously said that she never wrote or included violence that did not already happen to women in history around the world. And given the current state of politics, people have been pointing to dystopian fiction now more than ever (and I’m glad that they are). There have been TikTok montages of The Hunger Games’   Capitol transposed against last year’s Met Gala , especially in contrast with the broadening class disparity,   current unaffordability crisis , and genocide in Gaza . There were also Instagram posts with quotes from George Orwell’s 1984 regarding rhetoric and propaganda in the wake of media denial and demonization surrounding the deaths of Renee Good, Alex Pretti, Keith Porter Jr., as well as other victims of ICE: “The party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command.” We heed the warnings of dystopian fiction because they mirror fear and injustice we’ve probably already seen, felt, or experienced. Even the insane popularity of Wicked  and Wicked: For Good  highlights the power of propaganda and rhetoric to mobilize fear of otherness into hatred and vitriol (and I could write a separate article about that). But within structures that are already unjust, utopian societies are not something we often consider. They are unreachable, unattainable, unrealistic, and ‘unproductive’ to imagine. They feel so impossibly out of reach because We all know that Hannah Montana taught us that “Nobody’s Perfect!” Idealism is more difficult than cynicism in a world where unjust suffering and tragedy exists, and  Achieving perfection is truly impossible. But that utopian fiction class taught me something important: if all these conditions are true, why would anyone write or try to conceptualize a utopia? If we were solely thinking logically, why waste all that time for something that can never be possible?  Don’t those questions point us directly to the problem? We’ve been conditioned by capitalism to consider things that don’t produce a “useful” (useful meaning profitable) “output” as unproductive, and therefore a waste of resources. More importantly, we are stopping ourselves before even allowing our minds to dream of what an ideal, perfect, or utopian society could be like . Regardless of whether or not it’s actually ever possible to achieve, there is a structure of violence that imposes itself in our own minds  before we even let ourselves imagine  an alternative. We don’t even consider letting our minds wander at the possibility . That’s what has built our cynicism, accumulated our hopelessness. If we are convinced that nothing can ever change, or (oh god) (my least favorite sentence ever) ‘that’s just the way the world is,’ then there is no mobility , there is no action that can be taken except to succumb to our fear and despair. Without our ability to conceptualize a better reality, we are forced to accept the one imposed upon us. The goal is not perfection, or utopia. It is about having the wherewithal and the strength  to be creative and imaginative . The courage to imagine a different reality. We cannot let cynicism stunt our desire for growth and social change. That’s why I believe that imagination is necessary for revolution , and that creativity is already inherently a radical act. Why, as the writer and activist El Saadawi says, “Without creativity, we cannot revolt.” Art has always historically been linked to political and social justice movements, used and created for organizing, protest and solidarity. It has always been a tool to speak up and against injustice, violence, and tragedy. It has always served as both a weapon and object of comfort, as a tool for anger and joy, as a method of both mobilization and celebration. If you need examples, you don’t have to look very far at all— the Harlem Renaissance, the birth of Jazz and Blues, the use of screenprints in the Chicano Movement, just to name a few. Not to mention that art and any mode of creation  is inherently radical in a landscape of consumerism and capitalism. Creation is a natural antithesis to consumption. As creatives, (whatever that means for you), we can take radical frameworks by their horns because we’re already seated atop the bull. We exist in positions that already place us outside of mainstream conveniences, careers, and frameworks. As a fiber artist, I’ve been personally touched and inspired by the wave of knitters and crocheters who have organized to knit the “Melt the ICE” hat as of January 2026, a pattern  designed and sold by a local yarn store in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The proceeds from the $5 pattern  are donated to organizations that aid immigrants in Minnesota, and the design itself—a pointed red hat with a tassel—is meant to mirror the red knitted hats made and worn by Norwegians as a form of revolt against the occupation of Nazi Germany. Norwegians were then historically persecuted for wearing, making, or distributing this hat , and now in 2026, knitters all over the world are knitting it to show solidarity with those affected and unjustly victimized by the gestapo-like methods of U.S. ICE agents and an increasingly fascist government. As we know, a red hat these days can often be seen as a symbol of hatred, but the resurgence of these hats attempt to show how symbols can and have always been reclaimed and used to resist and honor historical resistance. We have an inherent appreciation for beauty in the arts because of the nature of art--it explores our collective humanity through expression, shared perspectives and empathy. We, through choice, career, identification, or pure feeling are aligned at the margins of “normal” or “logically productive” society, placing us at the fringes in which we can observe, interpret, and express our world. To interpret our “epoch’s special pulse-beat,” as E.E. Cummings put it. Thus to be an artist is inherently radical and revolutionary! If we lived under a different sociopolitical system, maybe it would not be. But for the conditions of our reality, it’s already what we are. And some would say it is our responsibility to be... Toni Morrison writes in her essay for The Nation  (2004)  about the role of the artist in times of political distress, and it was both empowering and comforting for how I’ve been feeling in the wake of the news recently: “Christmas, the day after, in 2004, following the presidential re-election of George W. Bush. I am staring out of the window in an extremely dark mood, feeling helpless. Then a friend, a fellow artist, calls to wish me happy holidays. He asks, “How are you?” And instead of “Oh, fine–and you?”, I blurt out the truth: “Not well. Not only am I depressed, I can’t seem to work, to write; it’s as though I am paralyzed, unable to write anything more in the novel I’ve begun. I’ve never felt this way before, but the election…” I am about to explain with further detail when he interrupts, shouting: “ No! No, no, no! This is precisely the time when artists go to work– not when everything is fine, but in times of dread. That’s our job! ” I felt foolish the rest of the morning, especially when I recalled the artists who had done their work in gulags, prison cells, hospital beds; who did their work while hounded, exiled, reviled, pilloried. And those who were executed… This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal.  I know the world is bruised and bleeding, and though it is important not to ignore its pain, it is also critical to refuse to succumb to its malevolence. Like failure, chaos contains information that can lead to knowledge–even wisdom. Like art.” I’ve been repeating these quotes to myself, and I hope you might too. I hope you embolden yourself to dream, to imagine, to create, to speak out, to revolt. To be radical in your existence as it already is.  The CR team at ICEBREAKERZ <33

We all need to struggle a little bit more — and I’m saying this as a holier-than-thou girl who refuses to Doordash food on principle. I bring convenience into my life in other ways though (hypocrite again!); I google every question or problem that comes to mind; I check Yelp to see the menu and reviews before going somewhere to eat. My personal issue is with new experiences because I can’t know everything beforehand. How boring!  In a recent interview, Olympic gold medalist Alysa Liu said, “I love struggling, actually. It makes me feel alive.” I am fairly certain a whole generation of kids were genuinely changed by that statement. Sometimes you have to jump and not know if you’ll make it to the other side. That’s how I found myself spending $$$ to try something I’d wanted to do for years, but never could convince myself to go through with it. When I was younger, my jewelry always came from my mother, in gold hoops and an angel pendant necklace. Too bad gold looks terrible on me! At this point in my mid-twenties, I’ve amassed quite a silver collection, rings to fit every finger except those cursed pinkies. The only rings that have ever fit those are the shit ones from Claire’s, meant for a daring seven year old.  I’ve entertained thoughts of learning how to make jewelry for years, as I’m sure many an alternative girl has. There’s something so respectable and hardworking and so salt-of-the-earth about making something yourself. When you receive a compliment and you can say, “Oh thanks, I made it!” — now that’s an indescribable rush. I imagine it’s similar to how your local EDM DJ feels when one of his songs is used at a large festival.  But pulling the trigger on the actual learning is a different story. It’s horribly expensive to have a cool and interesting hobby, yet so amazing to fantasize.  It’s funny, really, my jewelry teacher  started working in silversmithing as a blue collar trade that he initially learned in high school (he is very old). Now every week he’s teaching a gaggle of middle aged women and me, how to hammer a cuff and put together a basic ring.  Ok so do you guys want to see what I made or what… We started out making cuffs with copper to learn the basics. Basically hammering 101. My teacher told me I seemed like I “bite off more than I can chew” with projects I was taking on. To be fair to him, that day I spent hours stamping a copper bangle until my wrists were shaking. I would show you my other cuff, but it got commandeered by a friend. [Omg I found my teacher’s IG so here  is a photo. I’m the pretentious one with the Oura ring. Soldering 101. The creation of a ring unsurprisingly combines all of the little things you learned along the way into a much more difficult task. Plus, now you’re likely using expensive silver. Stressful yet liberating!  Ring 1: Fire agate and silver Ring 2: turquoise and silver. [unfinished bezel eyes] Unfinished Twin Bezel Eyes: Charoite and silver. My gag down, my purple flower opus.  My teacher was right, of course. I took on too much with these matching purple rings, but it was so worth it. Am I going to take another multi week class to finish them and start another ridiculous project? Of course. Don’t think silly questions to yourself like that. But in case you’re wondering, here’s more info about my silversmithing class! FAQs How much did my class cost?  In Phoenix, it was around $250 for 7 classes, and once you hit ring making, you needed to buy the stones and the silver, if you so wished. It is not so awesome that silver chose to skyrocket right around when I chose to take the class. To others in larger cities, I have bad news. It is more expensive near you.  Why should I do this? I’m telling you, I get there at 6 PM, toil away with the hammers and torches and solder and my life slows down. The hours inch by when working with your hands. I’ve heard that a trick to extending your perceived lifetime is to shake up your routine and do something new.  Who should I learn from? Do not take those "make a ring in one session" classes. Those are not jewelry experts! That is a college student who took this as a side job and now has a concept of how to make a ring. Find the old guys who used to work in jewelry sweatshops.  My teacher was definitely one of those. He had stories, like how his ex-wife’s brother was part of the Iranian Shah’s council and somehow escaped in the 70s when the current government (may the Supreme Leader rest in pieces x) had their brutal takeover moment. Not really related to jewelry making besides the fact that his ex brother-in-law used to send him enormous amounts of Persian turquoise and lapis lazuli. #Score! #FreeIran! Even if you aren’t interested in jewelry making, I can recommend nothing more than trying something out of your typical day-to-day where you create instead of consume. Put those hands to work!

As the days get shorter and the nights become longer, the sizzling Phoenix heat is cooling off just in time for spooky activities to sprout in place. As an art school graduate, I am always on the lookout for one-off art classes (bonus points if they’re not over $60). I’ve taken a few across the valley, but I wanted to check back on one of my favorite Phoenix-based organizations, thems . , if they were hosting any sessions this month. thems. is a queer-led non-profit that collaborates with local artists, organizations and companies to host creative workshops and queer-focused events. They regularly host gatherings such as Fruity Poetry Night (a monthly open mic aiming to amplify LGBTQIA+ voices), writing labs, printmaking workshops, figure drawing classes and photo exhibitions. These events range from free to ticketed both at the door and on their site, making thems. accessible for all! This October, I attended my second thems. their figure drawing class at Afternoon Studios . I went to my first earlier this summer in May, which I loved. The class is meant for all skill levels, 18+, any and all materials welcomed, with minimal supplies available. I only brought my 9” x 12” sketchbook, ballpoint pens, and a few graphite and colored pencils. The atmosphere was so incredibly friendly, with neighboring participants welcoming me to borrow their supplies (this lovely woman next to me shared with me her selection of pastels). Though I had taken figure drawing classes in college, I’m pretty rusty. The host, Three Hearts Club, had started the workshop by giving some pointers on how to execute gesture drawings and capture a live model on paper. The poses started from quick 10-15 second gesture drawings, which gradually increased to the final pose lasting 35 minutes. I love affordable classes as much as the next person, but what keeps this workshop above the rest is how light-hearted and warm the fellow artists, hosts and models are. The majority of the class are also solo attendees, which can be especially daunting if you aren’t completely confident in your current artistic abilities. But everyone there is open to striking up conversations with whomever, sharing their supplies and showing one another their drawings. Leaving each workshop, I'm motivated to continue drawing and to generally create more in my daily life. I feel so much more comfortable and confident in my artistic abilities, so I look forward to definitely returning on a more regular basis.

An interview with Maya Johnson Maya : Can you explain to me the concept of your project and what you intend the final product to be?  Eamon : My project is centered around the fear of self-disconnect, where there's a different version of me that people see that I don't think is me. I stand by the phrase, “The person in the mirror is not really you.”   I've been focusing on that and the painting is a compilation of different images of certain elements of my past layered on top of each other. I'm a very obsessive painter with rendering and detailing. One of the most important parts of this painting is not so much the image itself, but rather the process. And I think the process of painting is one of the most efficient methods I have to co-existing and confronting that fear. The whole purpose of the painting is to figure out why I feel this self-disconnect and how I can understand that through the process of painting.  Untitled , 2025. M : When I was reading your journal, which sounds inappropriate to say out loud, I saw you wrote down self-confrontation, as if it's something you fear. Is that what you mean by the self-disconnect? E : Self-confrontation was the ulterior goal of the painting where I originally wanted to make an image that was a portrait confronting myself, but I felt that was too literal for my taste. When I was searching through materials to use for the painting, I saw all these images of my studio and revisited my old home recently. I was looking for past sentiments and then focused on that for the imagery. Eamon's Inspiration Fig 1. Self-portrait diptych from November 2023. Fig 2. A still from Ikebukuro West Gate Park (IWGP). Fig 3. Bulldog Hall @ ASU at night. Fig 4. A still life of Eamon's desk setup. M : Issue four centered on the theme of fear. How is it getting personal for you? Do you think fear drives you forward? Do you think it holds you back?  E : With this painting, I want to first and foremost express how I truly feel, and also try to find out if anyone else can relate to it through my personal images. It's a weird gray area where I’m trying to find commonality even though this is very personal to me. It does drive me forward. This painting has helped me develop an awareness about how to approach certain things in life. Having that fear is the first step to conquering it, obviously. So it definitely is a big motivator. WIP of Untitled , 2025. M : What were you most afraid of as a kid? Any irrational fears? Where do you think they come from? E : My biggest fear as a kid was probably remaining out of place, which I think is pretty much the groundwork for the self-disconnect. The root cause is I kept moving around, I was in Phoenix and Scottsdale my whole life, but kept shifting around to different districts, and then I never felt like I belonged. That sense of not belonging manifested into self-disconnect, because it's like,   Where have I actually been? Who am I really? It's just a snowball effect of I don't belong here, therefore, do I belong to myself? I was also very afraid of dogs. ( M : Really? So was my brother.) When I was two, the first dog I saw was taller than me. So I was like, “What is this thing?” It wasn't until fourth grade where I realized, okay, dogs are cool. M : When you say fear comes from not understanding, let’s go back to your fear being self-confrontation and self-disconnect. How have you come to understand yourself more through this process?  E : I painted a little bit throughout my childhood, but it wasn't until like two years ago until I focused on painting because I was mainly focused on just drawing and like digital works. The process of painting has helped me understand myself and how I approach things. I'm always in such a hurry. I have no idea why. Maybe because I grew up with the big pressure of school and career and stuff. Once I graduated, it all suddenly mellowed out and now I'm running for no reason. M : When you're approaching a painting process, a project, something that's physical. It's no take backsies, right? ( E : Right.) Do you prefer the physical medium over digital? Are you more analytical or methodical with the process? E : Yes, I do. It's the most efficient way of telling my story. It's not so much about the gratification of it, but with the physical medium you're so much more involved with it. You're getting more involved with the materials. The physical painting process is better because of how intimate it is. And you can do a lot more than just painting. I did a process called image transferring, where I printed out certain pictures and I plastered it on my canvas. The more I delve into the process, that's when the analytical phase keeps going up, the more the painting progresses. Once you get into all the details and the image starts to form, I realize, wait, I have to think about what I'm actually doing here. I have to lock in. M : Do you think fear starts with discomfort, and if so, when do you think discomfort evolves into fear? E : Discomfort is more so the byproduct of fear. My philosophy of fear is that it comes from just not understanding something. You probably beat yourself up for not knowing what “it” is or not knowing how to understand it. When people don't take initiative to try to understand what they fear the most, that's where the discomfort kicks in. It's pretty much like a snowball effect from there. There's this triangle between discomfort, fear, and ignorance, you know?  M : Is there anything that you found out about yourself through this exploration of fear that's kind of surprised you?  E : Surprised me? I don't know. I'm so locked into the painting where it’s hard to feel shocked about what's happening. I'm just letting it happen and seeing if I really resonate with it or not. In the back of my mind, the exact details of it are there, but I never drafted it out or manifested it until now. M :Is there anything that people should know before viewing your work? Any context that would help shape their viewing experience?  E : I want to make a painting that's so rendered out that all the clues are there. I was thinking about writing a mini piece to accompany the painting, but haven't really gotten an initiative on that yet. More so a very dramatic version of what's in my journal. It’s dramatic in the least weird way possible because that was my 2am post-grad crash out. So no context needed, I'll be there. I'll be there with the painting. Just look. People can talk to me. M : Did you just graduate? Are you in the midst of a bit of an identity crisis then?  Eamon Win graduating, 2025. E : Yes, three or four weeks ago. Not so much identity, but more so, alright, what's going on here? I feel like it's a time crisis. It's very, very intense. It's all about time. That's another thing involved with this piece is time, because I have a lot of stuff from the past in there. How do I become more efficient with the brutal process of time? Obviously time goes fast, time goes slow. How can I keep up with it? Is time even real? It's not!   That's one of the realizations I had over vacation. I was like, wow, time is not real. I just have to keep living through the motions, through the process. Learn to live in the present. M : Have you ever felt like you've belonged somewhere?  E : Yeah, the studio with my paintings. I've met people along the way that felt the same way. They manifest the same issues through painting and drawing. I'm very grateful for that and to have met them.

The new year is a special time. A marker for new beginnings, the perfect time to try new hobbies, reset routines and visualize personal goals for the upcoming year. It is the afterparty of the holiday season, except instead of indulging in substances, “dry January” is the move and the gym has replaced the club. But this year, it has been especially hard to maintain the positive vibes when there is so much noise  going on. From increasingly dystopian and harmful policies to the relentless violence against marginalized groups at the hands of ICE and the state, every single day  feels   like impending doom.    Social media no longer feels like a place to see what your friends are up to or catch up on your interests. It has become a space of uncensored news (primary sources) and a cesspool of unwanted marketing. With every scroll, the videos get heavier than the last and I just know there is irreversible damage being done to our brains. It is not normal to watch a “get ready with me” video, graphic footage of ICE raids, and then a local food review, all within the span of a few seconds. And I know this is by design, they (you know who I am referring to ) are betting on us ( the people ) to be emotionally exhausted from all of this and concede obediently .   My first read of this year is by political journalist and writer Sarah Jaffe,  From the Ashes . It is a brilliant piece of writing that has helped me navigate this feeling of helplessness, and to understand the importance of collective grief. It is essential to ruminate in your feelings and allow yourself to grieve in a world on fire.  “ Grief is a rupture. It makes unthinkable the future that you thought you would have. Rebellion is a rupture too, one where a collection of people come together to say, to demand, to insist that the past future is no longer one they will accept.”  I loved how Jaffe talked about grief in the book. She explained that under capitalism, grief is actively discouraged because processing it takes time away from productivity. American society is heavily centered around work culture and productivity. The use of PTO is something that is highly frowned upon, despite it being in place for a reason — especially during seasons of loss. When it is treated as an inconvenience rather than a necessity, burnout is inevitable.  “The ordinary death of a loved one under a capitalist order that routinely forbids sufficient time off to mourn. Workplace injuries, deindustrialization, police violence, pandemic, genocide, social murder, and how we can make sense of loss through struggle.” Collective and public mourning under capitalism builds community and purpose in organizing. Grief is the catalyst to direct action and change. It is the very reason there are so many people in the streets, shouting from the rooftops (both metaphorically and literally), who are brave enough to be on the frontlines.  “It is a movement full of pain and humor. Of joy and terror. Of grief and all stages of grieving”  If you are like me, someone who has been feeling a deep sense of sorrow and helplessness, but most of all, anger, we need to hold onto it. These feelings are the catalysts to change, it drives action behind our disdain for what is happening in our own cities.            It is equally as important to take the space and time to take care of yourself. Put your phone down, nourish your body with whole foods, pamper yourself, journal your feelings, watch a comfort movie or go see a friend. If you want to take care of your community, you need to take care of yourself first. Joy is political resistance in itself just as much as grief.  Yesterday, I joined the nationwide strike  and turned my anger into action. The walkout was organized on the one year anniversary of President Trump's inauguration on 1/30/26, it was to protest the actions of the Trump administration but more specifically, regarding the rampant, inhumane ICE raids sweeping the nation. There were more than 130 demonstrations across the country and it was inspiring to see how many people had organized their own walkouts in their cities. In the streets of San Francisco, I met so many community members, feeling the same way I did. I listened. I danced. I laughed. I marched. I used my voice. It was incredibly inspiring to see everyone show up. A couple thousand regular people were gathered at Dolores Park because of grief . We were all there because of collective grief yet I witnessed so much joy . The live music that was played. Seeing people of all ages dancing together. The free hot meals and fruits brought to share. It was a #hopecore moment for me.  photos taken from SF Standard via Instagram How will you use your grief?

There’s a number of things that I learned from Leean Pan that Club Chazu and Club Rambutan have in common (other than the fact we both have the word “club” in our title, lol). But I was pleasantly surprised to discover that she and I were somewhat similar on an individual level, too. I saw Leean for the first time at the Neo Lunar New Year market in Downtown Oakland earlier this month, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her - she was busy with customers who were crowding around at her booth, eager to look at all her merchandise. With four years of expertise under her belt, Leean is a full-time jewelry designer born and raised in the Bay Area, and (in her words) is a “first and a half” generation Chinese-Japanese-American. In this interview, we explored her methods of honoring her heritage through her craft. MARIA: What is the Club Chazu logo? How did you (or the designer) come up with it? LEEAN: The logo was designed by one of my friends. Since I do a lot of beading and wire work in my designs, it is literally supposed to look like one of the first designs I ever made, which is the flower motif with the two lines in the middle being like strings or wire threaded through.  Conceptually, it's also supposed to look like a bowl of rice with chopsticks on top. I definitely have a soft spot for the logo - it symbolizes the beginning of my journey in doing this, so it's very heartwarming for me to just see it in different places. MARIA: Long story short, what's the story behind how you got into jewelry making? LEEAN: I started at the end of 2020, so pretty early in the pandemic. I had a very reflective period in a time of such sadness and chaos, I not only wanted to do something for myself, but I was also thinking a lot about how I could create something that was also community-oriented. My love for fashion, my love for community, and also wanting to be a voice in the Asian community manifested Club Chazu. A lot of my whole purpose in doing this is to share stories and to connect different generations and cultures across the diaspora together through commonalities. MARIA: On the website, there’s a quote from you that states, ” For me, fashion has always been about what makes me feel the most comfortable in my body and what I feel represents my inner being ”. How would you describe your “inner being”, and how do you try to communicate that through your craft? LEEAN: Fashion is all about expression, right? I mean…for what else, I suppose? not even just fashion - art is a form of whatever is existing within somebody - emotionally, their experiences in life, their perspective. It echoes your character.  We were talking about doing what we do to serve the AAPI diaspora*** , and I think that if I were to zoom out, it really is just my way of encouraging others to not be afraid to show who they are in this very moment. We’re ever-changing and evolving and are going to go through things that will change us. When I’m making choices everyday, like when I’m dressing myself or deciding what to eat, it’s about who I want to be that day, today. are moldable and that’s okay, so I find beauty in that. So with my jewelry, I want people to feel a sense of flexibility when they’re wearing a piece of mine, to express something, whatever that means to them.  ***I used to be involved with Asian American/Pacific Islander advocacy and event planning at Arizona State University through student leadership, and had initially planned for Club Rambutan to serve primarily AAPI artists before expanding to a more intersectional scope. MARIA: I completely agree. I love how you touched on the topic of “change” and that change, regardless if it’s anticipated or not in our lives, usually ends up somewhat influencing a piece of our own identity and how we navigate the world. The concept of identity happens to be the focal theme for Issue 3 of Club Rambutan’s magazine , and I talk about this in my letter from the editor What would you say is the greatest milestone/accomplishment you’ve achieved so far in establishing your business? LEEAN: There's so many different things I feel I could talk about, which is great to say, you know? A goal of mine for the last five years has always been to connect with people. Like I mentioned, community is very important to me and I'm really proud that I found a way to create things that people resonate with that they also get to take home. The product and business part is still really important, but doing all that behind the scenes and being able to present it in a package or on a table and have someone read the story behind it has really been a heartwarming experience for me. I try to tell a lot of stories through my jewelry. Some that are my own experiences growing up through my heritage, but also to use my jewelry as a vessel for others’ stories as well, like those who I meet along the way. So by building this open line of communication with my customers, in the way that I post on social media and especially in the way that I try to show up in person, it’s really important to me to hold space for people coming in.  Whether they’re seeing my things for the first time or have been long-time customers, I always try to create a safe space for them to feel comfortable talking to me.  Fashion can be a little intimidating, but it doesn’t have to be that way, you know? I chose “Club” Chazu because it’s not so much as being an exclusive experience, but actually an inclusive one. (Admittedly, Club Rambutan used to be just “Rambutan”, and I made it a placeholder name because I was craving it while coming up with the idea for the collective. I tacked on “Club” a month later because I thought it just sounded cooler ;P) MARIA: I also read that your jewelry intends to represent Asian American & Pacific Islander (AAPI) cultures by “paying homage to past generations” . Scrolling through the shop page, I’m picking up on a very common theme in your merchandise: jade and pearl material, which are mostly assembled into a flower design that is made up of either five or six beads.  Why these materials, and why the flower design? And knowing this, how do you feel that these details accurately contribute to Club Chazu’s mission to honor such communities “across the diaspora”? LEEAN: I have to start by acknowledging that quote about “paying homage” because I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for my grandparents or parents. I have a lot of appreciation for my grandparents who raised me and all the struggles they went through to give me a good life. I started Club Chazu to encourage the younger generation to wear their culture with pride. My materials also call to that because I use jade due to its integral values and properties across Asian cultures and families. The six-petal flower is actually just my modern take on the traditional jade donut. I wanted to do something more on the cutesy side, and a lot of my other designs are a little bit childish which is done on purpose.  Overall, Club Chazu pays homage to our ancestors who may have felt like they had to hide when assimilating into this country. We all have different stories about that. So I see it as me wearing jade proudly, or wearing different motifs, textures, color combinations that are viewed as “more Asian” as a way of standing up for them, doing it for them. Like, now we can do this and be proud of who we are. It’s really important to me to do that, and have my business be part of that legacy.  You can follow along Club Chazu’s jewelry journey on their Instagram and website .

I’ve been thinking a lot about how every form of art is, in essence, language. Almost every medium I can think of (music, photography, poetry, fine art, sculpture…) can be understood somewhat, at its core, as a language to communicate, connect, evoke, or resonate. If art is the medium through which outward expression of internality is possible, every medium is a voice, a language. We experience this in different ways: how two melodies create a conversation; how a black-and-white shadow touches on our longing; how a jazz standard sounds like a perfect morning; how a painting speaks without speaking. If expression is a keystone of art, with a voice going outward from something within, there must always also be an ear to receive it. That might be one of the essences of language: an expression of phenomena (observable or otherwise) articulated through a medium constituted to be understandable for communication. Often, we strive to live out our creativity as modes of expression, as tools we use to make our truer selves clear and visible. We want to express some deeper nuance of our being, our thoughts, our ideas, our values. This does not make creation for the sake of creation any less meaningful, or expression for the sake of ourselves less important. But it’s easy to remember how our desire for expression sometimes stems from a desire to be seen or heard, understood or valued, or to create something that helps someone else feel less alone. We create not necessarily for people we desire validation from, but even for the dotted outline of a person we will never be able to meet. Communication through language is a tool for connection. Communication through art is a tool for connection. Is understanding possible without a shared language? If a speaker had no listener, would connection be possible at all?  As I’ve recently joined Club Rambutan’s newsletter team–(hi!) I promise I’m not always this ruminative, except when I am :) – I’ve been reflecting on my understandings of language, medium, and what it means to build creative community. I’ve also been going to a LOT of Open Mics, pushing myself to speak at as many as I can, as a form of excruciating exposure therapy.  Sitting at the Crocker Museum in Sacramento on a Thursday night, attending my second Open Mic of the week, I was struck, as always, at how powerful the space of an Open Mic can be. There are seldom other places that provide a stage and a voice for people who may otherwise feel voiceless, with no barrier to entry besides signing their name on a list. I’ve always thought that to be a rare and powerful thing. To be able to be a person of any background, of any history, suddenly in front of an attentive crowd. Where else is there a culture of community so welcoming as that of poets at an Open Mic? Where else is there such a celebration of voice?  Chio Saeturn reading her original poetry at the Crocker Museum. For some reason, the power of these facts struck me differently this time. All of those things were still true, and the silhouette of a microphone open to anyone was still powerful–but I noticed looking around me, that what was powerful in equal or greater measure was the willingness of every ear in the room being and remaining open to everything and anything the person behind the mic had to say. These spaces of listening felt rarer and more special to me in that moment than the spaces of speaking . The power of the listening did not feel inferior as it so often can, to that of the speaking; the power of the audience was not different from that of the artist. I remembered then that spaces like these require a rare level of empathy and acceptance. Upon entering, there is a shared, unspoken agreement to provide a space of listening regardless of who or what stands behind the microphone and reverberates outward. And through this agreement, sometimes there are moments of communal, inaudible confusion; moments where a hushed silence befalls contracting hearts; and moments of hollering, foot-stomping laughter. There are always snaps and claps, by necessity. The beauty of a shared agreement like this reminded me of the beauty of art as a connective tissue, as a language for connection. I felt as though the space of listening silently spoke these truths the loudest: that everyone is valued, deserves to speak, and deserves to be heard.  The listening crowd. The event was hosted at the Crocker Museum by the Sacramento Poetry Center in collaboration with Sac Poets founder Chio Saeturn , featuring Sacramento Poet Laureate Emeritus Andru Defeye and legendary local poet Traci Gourdine . It was hosted in part to celebrate the release of the 916ink anthology “Drop a Pen, ” a collection aiming to amplify voices of historically marginalized communities in Sacramento through authentic contributions and representation from these neighborhoods. The event also had booths with art from local independent artist-poets, where they sold handmade zines and prints. Zine by Reese Moon and prints by Jordan Gaona-Wilson + a free pass to the Crocker! I think as a creative, it’s so easy to get lost in our heads and the spiral of our own self-perceptions. I think that’s where community helps so much. Despite my fear, intimidation, and constant impostor syndrome, I went up to Andru after the event, and he gave me a memento with an original quote of his on it. I looked down at the rectangular black sticker in my palm with the words in bright white: “you are enough for the stars to shoot about.” I asked Andru what he would say to other young creatives looking to build community and grow in their passions, to which he responded: “Building community requires a baseline of everyone feeling safe. When creating community spaces, always consider not only physical, but mental and emotional safety. This is where codes of conduct can help create and anchor the culture of spaces to support true community building. Real leaders lead from the back, not the front. The leader has to be the one that keeps everyone’s best interests in mind and not just their own. It’s not always an easy role, but it’s crucial in true community building.” “If you want to grow in your passions, just keep doing them and growth is inevitable. I also think a major key is to define your own success as an artist. The creative industries will tell you what success is if you let them. And they’ll have you feeling all kinds of ways holding yourself up to those definitions .” Andru Defeye reading a Community Code of Conduct for Open Mics, and poems from his time as Sacramento Poet Laureate & community organizer. I am lucky to have been able to speak to both Andru and Chio, as well as begin to get to know them through local arts and poetry events. Not only are they incredible poets, they also display a deep willingness to listen and be present for others. They embody such a palpable passion for uplifting young voices and the existence of everyone around them. At the beginning of the event, Andru touched on the culture of snapping and mirroring in slam poetry circles: “it means ‘I hear you,’ it mirrors ‘I’m with you,’  it says ‘I feel that,’; you can say ‘Amen’ like you’re at church.” To me, nothing else but the snap, the stomps, and the mmhs can quite capture that specific culture of listening, mirroring, and being present for one another. But I deeply believe it shares the core of all of our approaches and responses to art when apprehended by its power. Art as language, language as art: we all create spaces of speaking and listening, regardless of medium. Me, Chio and our friend Hazel after the event. Traci Gourdine’s poetry and stories have been published in numerous literary magazines, and she is currently a professor at American River College. Andru Defeye’s new book Unlocked has just been released and is available for purchase now. You can find Chio and Sac Poets holding weekly workshops, classes and events that are open to all. Both Andru and Chio are active community organizers in the Sacramento poetry scene and have readings forthcoming. Sacramento Poetry Center is wrapping up its Poetry Month celebration and has a plethora of upcoming events , in addition to its weekly Open Mic.

Soooo I classify myself as an “expert comfort watcher.” It’s in my Letterboxd bio and everything. Cinephile is a big word, but do I love film? Yes, undoubtedly. So terribly much. I grew up constantly surrounded by films, and the cinema will always be a magical place for me (heyy Nicole Kidman…). But I have this weird thing where I’m scared to watch new movies. Sometimes I call it my “big movie fear.” Stories have had such a large impact on my life, and have essentially raised me, forming my morals and ethics…so when I sit down to watch a new movie I have a feeling I’d love? I get scared. I get scared of the journey that awaits me, because I know how powerful this medium is, and how much it impacts me emotionally. I guess you could call it the love of the game? So I comfort watch, quite a lot. But I feel like sometimes comfort watching gets a bad rap. Yes, I understand the argument that there’s so much more art out there to experience. I feel hungry and overwhelmed by wanting to consume all of it , all the time . Why spend your time “comfort watching”? You’re preventing yourself from experiencing new ideas, new inspirations… I get it. TRUST ME, I get it. You don’t need to tell me how many cult classic films I NEED to watch that I haven’t.  For a while, I think this feeling instilled a lot of shame in me. Somewhere along the way, I started shaming myself for watching the same movies from my childhood over and over again as an adult. But that didn’t lead me to watch more new movies, just fewer movies overall.  But I used to rewatch the SAME movies with my sister every single day after getting back home from school. My biggest flex used to be that I could recite the entire first Harry Potter film and probably most of the others (I still can, but it’s a shame J.K. Rowling is simply a massive transphobe ). I can also recite almost the entire second A Cinderella Story with young Selena Gomez (MAARYYY BUBBLES NOW!), and reenact the iconic one-sided mirror choreography she does with Drew Seeley (heavy breathing and all).  I still find myself craving (many) reruns of all the classic Barbie animated films, of which my favorites were Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses, Swan Lake, Princess Charm School, Diamond Castle, Fairytopia (all of them), Mariposa– the list goes on. I did a rewatch of A Fairy Secret and both Mermaid Tale s with my friends on a trip recently, and it brought me so much joy. Some comfort TV watches for me are Gossip Girl, The Vampire Diaries, Pretty Little Liars, Downton Abbey, and BBC’s Merlin. And I think like many of us, one of my most formative reading eras was the age of the dystopian young adult novel! I kid you not–I probably rewatch all The Hunger Games films at least once or twice a year, as well as Divergent, The Twilight Saga, and many of the others. But if I take a deeper look into why I rewatch these movies so often, it comes from a few simple truths. Besides the fact that these books–these stories–kept me company when I was lonely, and instilled some of the greatest morals and values I still hold today, these stories just bring me back to that place: childhood. Rewatching The Hunger Games brings me back to 5th grade, when I voraciously read all 3 books within 4/5 days. Watching Divergent takes me back to its premiere in theaters–I was closing out 6th grade with my friend, hearing Ellie Goulding blare out the end-credits song and exiting the theater feeling dauntless. Every childhood Christmas or New Years was cozily spent watching Harry Potter and fireworks with my sisters. My sister and I would sit down and rewatch a movie almost every single day after getting back from school. We just would. And we didn’t feel any shame about it.  To me, that’s the hidden power of comfort watching. It reminds you of the inner child within. It really is like therapy for your younger self, allowing the joy of indulging in comfort for the sake of it – transporting you to a time where you didn’t have reason yet to feel shame about what you liked, what you disliked, how you spent your time, or your day. Before you were saddled with responsibility, or before you underwent formative trauma, or before you experienced the pieces of media or art helped you through those moments. It’s a recognition of self, of our purest child self that we carry with us everywhere. That we are still those children, and those children are still us. We still make decisions based on that little kid’s desires all the time. And sometimes we should!  We really should!! Why are we holding ourselves back from joy ? Why do we feel less deserving of indulgence, or fun? Why are we postponing our own happiness? Why do we feel bad for leaning into the things that brought us joy as children, or the things that bring us childlike joy now? And it doesn’t have to take the form of comfort watching, but I think it’s worthwhile to follow your intuition to do anything that helps you remember the child you once were–and still are. We are all the ages we’ve ever been, and comfort doesn’t have to be harder to come by just because we’re older. As adults, we have narratives constantly coming from every direction telling us who we should be, what we should be doing, and how we should be spending our time. But we don’t have to shame ourselves for wanting to listen to the quiet, inner whisperings of our child selves. So little Maris wants you to know that you can rewatch the same movie every day or the same youtube video, play that old video game, search for that old bakery smell, make as many cups of matcha as you want, or hang onto your childhood pillow till it falls apart. No matter how many times you want to watch it, or how many times you need to, the only person you need permission from is your adult—and non-adult—self. <3

Highlighting Youth Speaks’ incredible nonprofit work in the arts & amplifying youth voices + an interview with their Communications Associate, Bridgette Yang As a part of my Poetry Month escapades in April, I was fortunate enough to attend the Youth Speaks Teen Poetry Slam Final in San Francisco. I was invited by Bridgette Yang, their Communications Associate, and it was CRAZY.  I drove all the way to the Bay just to see them for the night, and it was so worth it. These kids are SO talented, and their performances blew me away. They embodied such bravery, vulnerability, knowledge of themselves, and so much power. Power in their voices, in their lived experience, in themselves.  Youth from all over the Bay had competed to become a finalist that night. The highest scoring finalists are going on to represent the Bay Area at Brave New Voices , a 4-day international youth poetry festival–the only one of its kind in the world–celebrating “arts education, performance, and civic engagement.” This year’s Brave New Voices is being held in Madison, Wisconsin from July 16th-19th, and tickets are available now . While at the event, I learned more about Youth Speaks and the work they do. I actually began crying in the theater as they played videos illustrating their different programs. I wanted to highlight some of them here because I genuinely love their work, their commitment, and the principles under which they operate! What they do is so, so important. Here is an introduction about them, from their own website : “Founded in 1996 in San Francisco, Youth Speaks is an organization that promotes young voices through local and national youth poetry slams, festivals and more. They offer a comprehensive slate of literary arts education programs and provide numerous opportunities for youth to be published and heard. They are a leading presenter of Spoken Word performances, education and youth development programs, and have worked with hundreds of thousands of youth, helping create partner programs in 47 cities across the U.S.” They have a plethora of incredible programs : Brave New Voices (which I grew up watching on YouTube), Power Lab (that brings together passionate young artists for collaborative narrative change projects), Individual Artist Fellowships, The Backyard Conference summer camp, MC Olympics , Writing Workshops, Open Mics, etc. One of them, The Bigger Picture , aims to use art to tackle health disparities, acknowledging the societal conditions that create disproportionate impacts on marginalized communities. Its focus originally began in addressing the myriad of ways structural violence impacts disproportionate diagnoses of Type 2 Diabetes, but has since expanded to pandemics, climate change, police violence, etc., understanding how all these conditions are interrelated due to structurally violent environments built through centering racism and classism. They focus on using voices as instruments of change to help protect the health of BIPOC and working-class communities that are most targeted.   Most of their programs, like the Teen Poetry Slam, focus on spoken word and the importance of young voices. This is highlighted all over their website: “We envision a world in which young people are heard, honored and connected through creative ecosystems of interdependence and care.”“Literacy is a need, not a want, and literacy comes in various forms.”“The Voices of Youth Matter: We create spaces that challenge youth to develop and amplify their voices as creators of societal change.” Most strikingly, the website’s front page reads:  “The next generation speaks for itself.” It was a night packed with powerful performances from every teen on the stage. Their stories astounded me; the clarity with which they expressed themselves left me in awe. They spoke unflinchingly of their experiences as queer, as female, as racialized individuals, and as human beings subject to our healthcare system. They all spoke of their lived traumas with insurmountable courage. The night left me so inspired and proud to be part of a generation that strives to use their voices and their art to create collective safety, community, and wellbeing without exception. I am thankful for the individuals committed to uplifting these incredible youth in their potential and power.  After marvelling at the talent of these young poets, I was able to interview Bridgette Yang , who invited me to the event. I wanted to learn more about Bridgette’s work with Youth Speaks, and her connection to poetry. You can read our interview below: Maris: First off, thank you for your time and all your work at Youth Speaks. I think everything you guys are committed to is truly incredible. Can you tell me more about what work you do with these amazing youths and what propelled you into working with them? Working at Youth Speaks truly doesn’t feel like a job but a privilege. I’m the Communications Associate, and a large part of my job is managing our social media! We have three social media pages (@youthspeaks, @bravenewvoices, and @powerlab.global), but I mainly manage the first two. I film and edit videos, write captions, and plan social strategy.  I’ve actually been a fan of Youth Speaks for almost 10 years. When I was a freshman in high school, I would watch Brave New Voices videos in my bedroom all the time. I wanted to plug into Youth Speaks, but I lived in Los Angeles. So I joined GetLit, another literary non-profit that amplifies young voices through spoken word. I ended up competing in Brave New Voices my senior of high school as a part of the Los Angeles team, thinking that was the biggest “full-circle” moment I was going to get in the Youth Speaks realm.  Then I went to college in San Francisco. Shortly after graduating, an internship at Youth Speaks opened up. I jumped at the opportunity and was blessed enough to receive the position. Three years later, I’m on their full-time staff and wake up every day feeling so grateful to land my first “big girl job” at a place I’ve adored since I was a teen.  Maris: Youth Speaks highlights poetry and slam as tools for social change. Why do you think both are so connected to one another, and how do you think this is accomplished?  I believe poetry is such a powerful tool in enacting social change because it teaches the writer that their voice is important. Poetry helps you confront, reflect, and express your internal and external world. If you don’t have a sense of self, if you don’t know where you’ve been and where you’re going, how are you supposed to know what side of history you want to stand on?  Slam specifically is really moving in the way it can bring a group of people to share a collective energy. Social change is built on a collective effort, and spoken word spaces teach people that they are not as alone as they feel.  Maris: Why do you think amplifying young, creative voices in particular is so crucial? The youth are our future. They bring hope, energy, and a hunger for change so incredibly necessary in dismantling the harmful structures and practices that govern our society. There shouldn’t be a minimum age one needs to wait for in order to speak up. The sooner we start teaching them their voices matter, the sooner they believe they have the power to strengthen the revolution. Maris: What has personally struck you the most through your work with Youth Speaks? Seeing the youth gain confidence over time will never not amaze me! I have seen youth go from barely making eye contact at their first open mic to becoming a top-scoring finalist at a slam just a few months later. Time and time again, I reminded of how important it is for a young person to feel heard and seen. It reminds me of my own journey as a spoken word poet, and gets me emotional every time! I feel like I’m often helping a younger version of myself being in these spaces, and I know my coworkers feel the same. It truly is a blessing to not just help the youth find their voice, but also work with other passionate artists who believe so deeply in a brighter future .  You can find Bridgette’s directorial work and poetry at her website . Learn more about Youth Speaks and its branches in an area near you, as well as ways you can support their incredible programs.

Shopping consciously saves not only the planet, but your style too… People say a cluttered room is a reflection of a cluttered mind. This logic also applies to a cluttered closet — it is a reflection of a diluted sense of style and originality. Fast fashion and overnight shipping have birthed the death of personal style: overconsumption. Overconsumption starts with feeling the need to buy a “new” outfit for every new occasion, or seeing the “potential” in too many pieces at the thrift store (I was guilty of both of these in college). The idea of having limitless options for tops, dresses, and purses may seem great in theory, but it is impossible to truly resonate with all those options. It’s hard to ensure your style and aesthetic remain consistent when you have an overabundance of clothing.  It takes great restraint to resist the latest fashion “must-haves,” but there is value in slowing down. It helps you better understand your taste and discover different elements that you may gravitate towards, such as certain silhouettes or color palettes. In the process of intentional curation, you discover brands and designers that connect with you rather than buying another trending item behind a screen. You start to collect “staple” and “signature” pieces that last in your closet for years, both quality and style-wise. Similarly, developing personal style is to self-discover, finding who you are as a person, and taking the time to learn about yourself and immerse yourself in the world. One of my favorite fashion icons, Jane Birkin, built her style legacy through a handful of signature pieces and is widely known for her effortless and minimal style. While she is most notably the muse of Hermes’ Birkin bag - now seen as a symbol of status and wealth - she ironically never treated the Birkin bag as such. Instead, she wore the bag casually, wearing it down, personalizing it with accessories and keychains. Jane Birkin leaned towards owning a few beloved, versatile pieces that she restyled for years. Her style philosophy revolved around comfort, authenticity, and individuality rather than quantity.  Clothes are meant to be restyled and worn out, but it is rare to see pieces and garments have that look because the quality of most clothing is just not there anymore. Fast fashion has completely diminished the importance of having long-lasting pieces in a closet, using mostly polyester and plastic-substituted leather. Materials such as these will only last a couple of months before the seams begin to fall apart. Another great example that comes to mind is the Olsen twins. The Olsen twins have cemented themselves in fashion with a worn-in, on-the-go, layered aesthetic that emphasizes fabric textures and longevity. They are always re-wearing statement pieces such as vintage coats and bags over and over -- not due to lack of access, but because they have an intentionally curated closet. Specifically with Mary-Kate Olsen, her statement piece was a worn-out mint green Balenciaga City bag throughout the 2000s. She wore this bag ever so casually; it gained notoriety when Olsen ended up staining the bag with red wine, and the bag no longer resembled mint green due to how worn out it had become.  Now, the two examples I’ve shown are celebrities with an excessive amount of splurge money that isn’t always at the disposal of everyday people. However, the philosophy of curating pieces that feel personal to you and your style is accessible outside of luxury designers as well. I am a big fan of vintage and shopping second-hand. Most vintage pieces are often made with higher quality material (i.e., 100% cotton, linen, cashmere-wool, genuine leather, etc) compared to garments made today. I love thrifting in real life, but have found that eBay is a great site to find quality pieces at affordable prices. If you can, finding up-and-coming brands and designers that value ethical and sustainable fashion is always a great way to find staple pieces that provide longevity.  I love vintage coats, specifically the fur-trimmed ones that I keep in my regular rotation. It has become my signature amongst everyone who knows me! Some of my favorites I constantly rewear include a tan suede fur-lined coat, a faux fur Cheetah printed coat, and my fur-lined denim long coat. As someone whose fashion is heavily inspired by the early 2000s, fur-lined coats remind me of that era. The coats' influence came from childhood favorites like London Tipton and Raven Baxter , who often wore bold, statement outerwear that left a lasting impression on me. I love the versatility of my coats, dressing down my suede fur-lined coat for a casual grocery store run or dressing it up for a fancy white tie occasion.  It’s totally okay to love shopping for cute clothes, as I definitely share the same sentiment. But being selective in the pieces you choose to add to your closet will lead you to build a more meaningful relationship with fashion. It’s important to shop consciously and to find quality, timeless pieces that you connect with and ultimately provide longevity. Every season, there will be a new “IT” bag, dress, shoes, you name it -- make sure the piece speaks true to you and that you’re not falling for the hype. There is no right or wrong way to find your unique style, but it is certainly no t by overconsumption.

It’s been a little over one month since Club Rambutan’s twice sold-out debut fashion show, The Pyres of Desire ,  took place in Oakland, CA. Inspired by the 7 deadly sins, TPD showcased 5 emerging Bay Area designers and 15 original looks. The showcase explored the relationship between desire and fear -- themes that also intersect with Club Rambutan’s upcoming 4th issue , Amygdala.  I had the pleasure of collaborating on this project as Assistant Stylist for the photoshoot and fashion show itself. Today I am speaking with JH Sedrome , the Lead Stylist, to learn more about his perspective and creative process. JH is an independent fashion designer with extensive experience in creative direction, styling, and producing large-scale fashion shows.  Tiffany:  As the Lead Stylist, you played such a key role, and I had so much fun helping you out as an assistant stylist on the team. Before we dive deep into your process and look at the critiques, how do you feel about how The   Pyres of Desire  show came together?  JH : It was pretty fierce. I mean, we were just gallivanting. It was simple, you know, it was cute, you know what I mean? It was exactly what it had to be. T: Yes, exactly. No, honestly, it was a really cute and successful night. For our first fashion show to have been sold out twice and to highlight the fashion talent, what more could we have asked for?  JH:  Yes! I think there were obviously some learning experiences, but that's every event in life, you know?  T:  Yes, agreed. Can you share your experience within the fashion industry outside of CR? How did you get your start?  JH :  I was 17, and I was always in fashion clubs in high school. I was very interested in being active in the [fashion] scene, and I'm only really good at picking out outfits and choosing colors, and making things look cute. So it went hand in hand, and I gallivanted with friends, and we didn't have any money. We only had our iPhones. We just got really good at taking photos using what we had. We were resourceful and we never stopped creating and dressing up.  I also went to school, but I was hating my career path. I think I was working at Gap. I created a makeshift fashion portfolio; I printed out every single project I've worked on with my friends. Then I went to Macy's, Nordstrom, and basically every local retailer with a printout packet of my work and told them about my interest in pursuing a styling career.  T : I love that. Putting yourself out there is important, especially in any creative line of work. Where did that get you?  J:  It actually led me to multiple rejections. But [...] It was still important because doing that led me to form connections, and people know of me and my work now. I was always kept in mind, so whenever things did open up, I was the first person people called. People just threw my name around [because]  I continued to put myself out there in those environments. But as of two weeks ago, I have switched jobs and slightly switched career paths. T : Oh my gosh. Wait, I'm curious. What's your new job now? J:  I am now managing this interior design showroom, so now I get to just sit in a beautiful showroom and it's not folding sh*t. [laughs] People come in and they move the furniture and I get to sit on the furniture and I arrange furniture around like “oh that rug would look cute here.” Interior design and fashion go hand in hand; there are similar aspects.  T : Yes, I do see that intersection, and congratulations! I love this for you. Okay, can you talk more about your inspiration and creative process in both curating the ambiance of the venue space that we had? For example, your idea of utilizing the drapery. J : I take a look around and intuitively gravitate towards things that are simple and [effective]. When you pick one color and you put that color everywhere, it's easy to build off of that. It’s not only appealing to the eye because everything looks cohesive, but it also cements branding. Another way I look at set design is to just fill up space, thinking about easy concepts we can do in tight time constraints.  T : Period. You put practicality at the forefront when you helped with the set design.  J:  Yes, practicality and drama.  The best shows are always simple in design, and it's just the people that bring the dramatic flair.  T : What's your inspiration, creative process behind styling the looks? For example, when you and Maria created the styling cards at the very beginning, [...] how did you guys come up with different makeup looks or hairstyles? J:  What’s great about styling is how collaborative it is. It’s important that the designers also have their own creative freedom and vision of how they want their garment to come across. When I saw the garments, I knew things were going to change. I think that is just a fact of the matter.  And because it's more about creating like completed looks. A lot of them [designers] made dresses, so intuitively deciding the hair needs to be pulled back to highlight the dress.  “There are times when you don't need to style that much because it's a good dress. There's no need to add.” T: Yes. That's true. We also collaborated with local jewelry brands such as  Metal Thoroughfare and Descry SF  for the runway looks. How do you approach balancing the clothing accessories so that each piece kind of complements one another rather than overpowering the other?  J:  Once again, practicality is something I always think about. For example, the knitwear pieces shouldn't have the jewelry because it's gonna get snagged and [the fabric] is delicate. This was one of those cases where being practical took precedence over aesthetic styling. Many of the designers had strong aesthetics on their own. At the first fitting, it was hard to be able to truly accessorize and style when many of the pieces were unfinished. [All I could do] was offer words of encouragement and [suggest] my ideas. A lot of the designers were pretty receptive and did include some of the notes I had from the fitting.  T : You also designed a sickening dress for Joanne that started the show. It was like this layered wrap dress with pale shades of blue and gray, right? Tell me more about the creative process behind designing the dress. J:  That look was actually made the night before because we scrapped the original look last minute. Initially, I had designed a long coat, but I can't do a coat when it's hot outside. The weather was giving summer, so the coat did not fit the vibe.  I started playing around. The piece is literally just a tank top with a train. I used the extra fabric to wrap around her multiple times and tied knots. There was a slip dress underneath that had like a flounce trim. I combined premade pieces and made some last-minute edits. I had all these pieces from previous collections. The hair and makeup were heavily discussed between Joanne and I. Being barefoot was on the mood board because we were trying to pick out shoes, but none of the shoes were hitting with that look.  For the hair, we had a couple of ideas. We ended up doing an updo with face-framing pieces. The night before, we were just gallivanting, trying on the look, she walked back and forth, and then that's when we were able to make changes as we saw the garment in motion.A key portion is watching how it moves and taking functionality into account.  T:  And how did the idea of Joanne starting the runway with her screaming come about?  J:  The show was inspired by the 7 deadly sins, so the scream reminded me of Wrath. I wanted an authentic scream because I think that true blue, young designer history is having those like “you just had to be there” moments.  T:  Yes, it definitely was one of those moments, and the scream set the tone for the entire show. Now let’s  get into the look critiques. What were your favorites of the night?  J: For Mel Lamore , they brought symmetry and drama to their pieces. I knew they had theater experience, [too]. I loved their pieces, but we did need to [make] some tweaks. For example, they created these beautiful trains, but they were a little too long for functionality. The corsetry was beautiful and their looks, overall, were incredibly symmetrical. T: Mel’s looks were personally one of my favorites! I also loved how the Metal Thoroughfare’s jewelry elevated the pieces, like Kira’s [Wrath] look? Insane.  J: For Tianna , I’d say they had the most range design-wise and most experimental with silhouettes. They designed two dresses, a coat, and very abstract pants using unconventional materials. I appreciated their dedication to showcasing their Filipino heritage through their pieces.  Mar’s two-part Pride look was my personal favorite of Tianna’s, though. That was actually peak styling, a prime example of how much styling can really amp up a piece. I saw Mar’s hair getting done, and then I saw the hair getting completely covered up in fabric. I thought, “Wait, hold on. Why did you even do his hair? We need to highlight the hair, so I suggested we pull the headband back a little to show some of his hairstyle. Then Tianna came in, saw that we had changed it, and came running back with some red hair clips they brought, which were the perfect final touch.  “It’s fun to see how different people work with their design process and to see it on the model, and experimenting with the look until we get it right. At the end of the day, styling is just gallivanting and playing dress up and seeing what looks good.” T: Yes, I love that you’ve used gallivanting as a way to describe the creative process. Okay, the next designer is Erika Hurtado .  J: Erika’s looks were so impressive because she managed to use knitwear with other textures simultaneously. Her looks had such a great use of texture, and the gray/cream knitwear for the Sloth look on Vineeta was sooo fab. As a stylist, that cream knitwear look is an immediate pull for a client.  T: Yes, I agree 100%. I also loved how she incorporated two masks into her Envy and Wrath looks, very avant-garde. Let’s move on to Cole ’s looks.  J: Cole's looks were minimal but were fun with some styling touches. Like, for example, Biana’s Lust look was all white, but the fabric was wrinkled on purpose with some royal blue gloves, which I thought was a fun touch. Cole had his own vision of how he wanted everything to look.  T: Let’s move on to the last designer, Joey Ehren .  J: Joey’s looks had good construction; they were palatable, and I appreciated how clean the pieces looked. J: I also want to share a few words about what I got from this [entire] experience, too.  “To genuinely get to connect with all of these creative individuals and to take up space with complete strangers through design gave me pure uninhibited joy. Getting to live off your fantasies in such an immediate way and to run around and style with everyone. To bond, style, laugh, and say dumb, silly jokes behind the stage or in between shoots is what fashion and creative collaboration are all about.”  T: I agree. I loved being in an atmosphere of just creating and also community. Everybody was just so excited to be there. I have one last question for you. Which sin do you think you embody the most?  J: It's Libra season, so I'm gonna say Lust.  T: Okay, period. That's real. Thank you so much for joining me today to talk a little more about the behind-the-scenes styling of The Pyres of Desire . This is just the beginning of CR’s fashion presence!

An interview by Maris Juwono MARIS: How would you describe this project, and how it relates to the concept of fear?  PRIYANKA: I set out to build a sort of “ personal device .” Essentially, it’s a video sculpture with a screen, and it’s encased in a biodegradable plastic–a material I made myself. It really is kind of a doomsday, semi-futuristic version of a phone. I’ve drawn out different animations and video clips of texts coming through, new job posting alerts, AI videos of cats and stuff to play on the screen to mimic a phone.  i have a lot of technophobia, or fear of future technologies and what they might do to people.  M: Why did you decide to focus on technology, surveillance and censorship? How do technology, bio-material, and imagery intersect for you?  P: I’m a technologist [and engineer] by trade. I think a lot about technology: I engage with it a lot, and I design it. Being in a position like that forces me to think about the ethics of designing good  technology. A lot of things that I notice about the technology that we engage with every day freak me out. These devices know too much. People don’t even know what data they’re giving out or what data is being held on to.  There are three components [to the piece]: the technology, the bio-material, and imagery/animation. Inherently, my work in the past has always been at the intersection of really weird or seemingly  different things: different materials, mediums, and concepts. But I look at a lot of it as all being technology . There’s so much science, technology, and repetition needed to make a bio-material. [The artistic process] is super scientific, and [there were a large] number of digital applications I had to interact with to make just a few frames of animation. I don’t know– all of it is technology to me, and all of it is art to me.  Even the building of  technology.  all of it is technology to me, and all of it is art to me. M:  I don’t even know how you would go about making a biodegradable plastic… P:  I’m all self-taught and just cooking weird goops on the stove, hoping it comes out right. [It] literally is cooking. I don’t even cook myself food to eat, but I spend hours cooking these weird goops.  M:  I don’t know how many apps are needed to code all that animation either… P: I’m learning on the fly, honestly! M: I love how you merge engineering and technology into your art as a multidisciplinary practice. How did you start incorporating a ‘STEAM’ framework in your creative work?  P: My undergrad was in engineering in Boulder, Colorado, [after which] I went to art grad school in the NYU Tisch School of the Arts , in their Interactive Telecommunications Program . It was so fun. It was my excuse to go buck wild and throw glitter on my motors, and just make really weird things. Things I would have never thought about making in any  school, or would be encouraged to make. I was strongly encouraged by my family members to study something in STEM [because] they told me I would always have a very successful, prosperous future in [that] field. I signed up for engineering school not even knowing what [it] was at 18, even though I always had these artistic inclinations. After graduating and working as an adult, I always felt like part of me was missing, so I slowly got back into art.  I took a watercolor class and it kind of just snowballed. I started working as a studio assistant and a digital consultant for artists in my city. I started designing weird motor systems for kinetic sculptures that they wanted to build, and went from there. Then I went to grad school studying in an arts and engineering/new media art program. And I just loved  it. It was so much fun. M: I know you’ve mentioned the potential difficulty in others’ understanding of your work due to its experimental/multidisciplinary medium. What would you want audiences to understand about your piece outside of their direct experience/engagement with it?  I kind of mentioned that I really struggled within myself to find this piece and what it would be. I went back and forth with a lot of ideas and what I was trying to say. I think [that with] a lot of the work I do, the main takeaway is that everything I make is all prototype, it’s all process, it’s all experiment. It’s all a seed for maybe a future [piece of] work. It’s a way for me to untangle different ideas or thoughts I have in my own head–it might not make sense to everyone. We’re all works in progress, this piece is a work-in-progress. I think it’s okay if things are confusing.  M:  I’m curious to know what you think about institutional influences on artists and creativity. Do you think that influenced your interpretation of ‘fear’ as a focus? P: For this piece specifically, honestly, the main influences were really the news, and social media. I think right now there is a lot of fear to be had. I think there’s also a lot of confusion, and what adds an extra layer to it is that the whole point of news outlets and social media is [that they’re] incentivized to sensationalize news: to make it big, and to keep your attention. Social media is all about attention and keeping your eyes on the screen. So I don't know it’s very loaded; my fear was very heavily influenced by media that is made to make  me afraid.  And that’s a hard thing to come to terms with as well in the piece. My fear is literally translated into currency . My fear and my attention is dollars .  my fear was very heavily influenced by media that is made to make me afraid...that's a hard thing to come to terms with... M: I read in your application that you were excited to work with Club Rambutan and connect with other artists! What excites you or what has been most meaningful to you about working in a cohort with so many other amazing, intersectional and interdisciplinary artists? P: For sure the best part of this whole process were all the check-ins. Hearing from such talented artists from all over the country [of] all different types of mediums was just awesome. They have such innovative takes on fear, things I never would have thought of, and their art is of such high quality: it’s thought-through, prototyped, storyboarded, shot once and then [reshot]. It’s so amazing and inspirational to see people put so much care into their craft. The critique and feedback also was always exactly what I needed to hear in [those] moments, especially since I was struggling so much with this piece. The feedback was always so thoughtful from the other artists and the CR team too.  M: What would you want people to understand about you or themselves through your project? P: I think with most of my work, the point is that everything is process . Things are weird, and not just in making art, but in life in general and experiencing different things. Things are weird and confusing and always changing. I’m always just trying to reassure myself that when stuff doesn’t make sense or what I made isn’t perfect, it’s okay, and all of it is seeds, or content for the future. Even with these fears of a feeling lost to a digital void, and being watched, and feeling sucked in, living a repetitive life, and being disconnected--you know, things are always changing, that’s not [going to be] forever, we have more agency than we think we do .   You can always regulate your nervous system, like go touch grass. Maybe not if you’re based in Phoenix, but you could eat a banana, or something. Something can pull you out of that spiral that you think you’re going down. the point is that everything is process . M : What inspires you to create? What inspires you to push past–or embrace–fear? P: What I am always excited to do is learn something new  or achieve a new skill. This piece for me was a lot of that. I have never applied these biomaterials to my artwork before [or worked] with screens like this [to make] a video sculpture. I’m also brand new to animating, [using] Procreate, [and] making video content. So all [the] parts of this piece I [was] just learning as I [was] making.  Actually, my past work is usually very colorful, humorous and illustrative in style. I’ve gotten feedback that it’s very good for kids, so when I was told the prompt was fear, I felt like this was off-brand for me. I’m usually like a rainbow art teacher. But then I thought about it harder, and actually, a lot of the humor in my past work is a little bit self-deprecating [in] exploring weird thoughts, fears, and anxieties I have. So I’ve been engaging with fear in my work this whole time, which is something I didn’t realize initially. I want to make stuff that is fun, that people feel like they have access to and can engage with, in hopes that it’s not [necessarily] inspiring, but someone could think, “hey, that’s fun, I could do that too.” And that’s part of my philosophy of open source . In the past, it’s been applied to hardware in the company I used to work for: all the products were open source projects, so all the design files and code used to make them were published. The idea is that we push forward innovation if we’re open with our information . Everyone has access to it, [including] maybe people who wouldn’t normally, and they will have brand new, awesome ideas to riff off of what we put out. I think this also applies to art, so I’m hoping to put together a lot of documentation about how I made this piece to hopefully [show that] it’s not rocket science–anyone can do it.  You can see Priyanka Makin's full final project by purchasing Issue 04: Amygdala.

Photo by Wyatt Fields Kim Alexis: Part of your project incorporates a passionate and inquisitive diary entry. The first line, “I gave birth to myself and it frightens you”, is both striking and beautiful. For centuries, queerness has been a misunderstood and feared lifestyle. What motivates you to tell the stories of queer identity through your work? Wyatt: Both this [specific] project and all of my work are told through a queer lens, just from the way I see the world. To me, queerness is an action and an entire state of being and doing; [it’s] not just a label because I happen to like guys or the way I happened to be born in this time that we live in. To me, it's so important to acknowledge how radical existing as myself is after what the people who came before me went through and what is going on right now. Censorship is growing more and more towards queerness, and people don't want to see it, and people try to pretend it doesn't exist. So, in my opinion, through [my art] and the way I like to play with extremes, my stuff tends to either deal with an idealized version of life–what things could be like [as] dreamy and beyond the constraints of the world today–or they confront our reality and make fun of it and turn it on its head because it's all made up and it's completely ridiculous. That's just the word that I keep saying, because it's ridiculous. But to me, queerness is political and it is radical. I can't separate it from my work, because it's who I am. For this [artwork], I didn't want to only focus on the fear of queer and trans people. So with my writing specifically, I shed light on what society chooses to ignore, which is the bravery and divinity of what it means to look outside of what society has told you, and make you make yourself. Because it is a kind of divine act in a way, and a mad science experiment, and a supernatural phenomenon, and it should be looked at with awe instead of fear. Photo by Wyatt Fields Because it is a kind of divine act in a way, and a mad science experiment, and a supernatural phenomenon, and it should be looked at with awe instead of fear. K: Describe your creative process for this project. How did you come up with this idea? W: Since the theme is “fear” for this issue, I was obviously exploring my own and what's always in the back of my head: identity, being perceived, and loneliness. I was honestly stuck between this theme of queerness and another really important fear [to me], which is also informed by society's reactions to the world around us: apathy. I wanted to do a project [that] explores just how [prevalent] apathy in the world today towards the atrocities that we see happening in Palestine, Sudan, and ICE terrorizing our communities. And sometimes it feels like the non-reaction that people are having is making it even scarier. I decided to go with the way trans people are being treated now. I focused on a fear that is not so soul-crushing and turned it into a celebration, poking fun at how [society is afraid of] queer people and queerness in general. Photo by Wyatt Fields I focused on a fear that is not so soul-crushing and turned it into a celebration, poking fun at HOW [society is afraid of] queer people and queerness in general. [It’s] a campy celebration and peek into the life of the monstrous freak that people seem to think we are. K: Between moving from Memphis to San Francisco, do you think your relationship to your art has evolved? Specifically, was there anything new or insightful that you discovered about yourself due to your experiences living in these two culturally different cities? W: The move from the South to San Francisco is what informed me as an artist, to be honest. Growing up in Memphis. I've always loved art. I've always loved writing, movies and photos. My mom was a photographer on the side and I grew up watching so many movies, but I never really thought that I could be on the “making” side of things because those resources just weren't available to me. My life in Memphis was more focused on survival than thriving and focusing creatively. When I moved out here for school and took my first film classes, it kind of shifted my mindset. I've always been really into social justice, and I was adamant about being a journalist and I had to take all these creative classes to get into that as well, and I realized I can talk about important things while at the same time making beautiful things. That's kind of my mindset as an artist. Something really important to me is [having] people understand how culturally relevant and rich the South is. So many of the things we love are from and rooted in the South. That's just something I really want to get across to people because [there tends to be] a certain idea of the South and people who come from there. While there are really terrifying and backwards places [there] — just like around the entire country— it is also home to the biggest queer and biggest Black populations in our country. I would say that growing up in that kind of environment (especially Memphis, which is one of the most diverse cities in the country and where Martin Luther King was shot, which we recognize every year) and you feeling the energy of the movement just walking the streets, it informed me as a person. Even if what I'm making isn't explicitly political or radical, it's gonna come across in the words that I write and just the mindset that I have when I'm making the thing. You can see Wyatt Fields' full final project by purchasing Issue 04: Amygdala .

An interview with Tiffany Hua Tiffany Hua: Can you walk me through your final project and how it reflects this issue's theme of fear? Ahsea Kim: My final project is based on the idea of the mise-en-abyme . I wanted to approach fear through a more positive lens, [to use it] as a way to increase self-awareness and propel personal growth. Each layer of the mirror is a frame closer to the real me, revealing the depth of my identity. I believe fear can be used to discover myself, my triggers, what I am afraid of, and knowing these things can help me face & counter it meaningfully. When we think about fear, there's a natural negative connotation that is attached to it. Almost straight away, fear is seen as a bad thing. It is always treated as something that’s detrimental or harmful to you.  New Face of Fear (Informational Liaisons) by Ahsea Kim I was going through a season where I was reflecting on my own emotions, and I realized I am a very fearful person. I was very oblivious to it at first, but now I'm actually aware that that is kind of who I am. The epiphany was a really big moment for me. “I wanted to try to approach fear from a different perspective, where it's actually something that helps you realize who you are. For me, identity is a really big thing. I remember one of my friends saying, if someone really wants to break you, the best way to break someone is to make them confused about who they are.” T: I definitely think fear and identity are intertwined, and I love that your project is interpreting fear in a better light. Do you mind going more into detail regarding your technical approach to this piece?   A :  My primary medium is acrylic painting. With acrylic, it's more environmentally-friendly in terms of discarding [the paint]. I'm not calling myself a climate activist, but I do think about the climate as an artist.  I still do consider myself an emerging artist, and so I'm still figuring out the trajectory of my own style. The prominent motifs I incorporate in my artwork are the fish and the apple. Those two symbols are very important to me.  I love looking at fish. I just think they're so pretty; their colors, so vibrant and vivid, and so unapologetically flashy. Those are colors that you don't see on land. Fish are so mysterious to me because they all live under the sea. The other reason is because of my faith, my background as a Christian. The fish is a really important symbol for me, because it was a symbol of Christianity back in the Roman Empire. And fish in Greek are called ictus . If you get the spelling of ictus, which is i c, t, h, u, s, it's actually an acronym in Greek, that stands for Jesus, Christ, Son of God, Savior. That is my primary identity, being a child of God, living in love, by faith, and having this faith is really the foundation of who I am. Another cool thing about fish is they swim in schools. I read somewhere that fish perform the best when they're swimming with others. I don't really know the scientific part of it, but they survive because they have each other. And for me, community is a really big part of who I am as well.  The use of the apple motif in my artwork is also connected to my faith. Everyone knows the story of Adam and Eve, the bitten apple is famously used. But my apple is whole, and to me, it's like sanctification. It's a big theological word, but to elaborate on that, it's like us [humans] being more purified and becoming more like Christ. The wholeness represents what was made possible because of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice.  Apple motif from New Face of Fear (Informational Liaisons)  by Ahsea Kim T: In your initial application to Club Rambutan’s fourth artist cohort, you emphasized your tendency to question the role of art and how it molds the status quo in our society. How does your own artwork challenge social and cultural norms? A:  I strive to present works that help people question the meaning of life. It's such an important thing to question, “Why are people here? Are we just stardust? Where do we actually come from? Where are we actually going?”. In terms of challenging the status quo, I would like to encourage people who see my artwork, to start asking questions about what they're doing, their purpose or even question what comes after death. Maybe the status quo is that we no longer need to think as much because we have ChatGPT, and I include myself in that category. It is so convenient and comfortable for us not to think critically anymore. Overall, to encourage people to think more deeply about life and themselves. T: During your time at the University of Sydney as a bachelor's student of the visual arts, you began to lean more towards theory and started to focus on art history. What is your general thought process for creating your own work, both conceptually and in practice? A:  I'm not much of a planner. I just do what I like to do, just maybe that is part of the thought process, but I like to go on walks, just mindless walks, aimless destiny. I don't really have a specific destination when I go on these strolls. There's this word in French called flaneur , and it's when you go strolling in the city to observe. “I like to do that because I think those are the moments when something just clicks. When you think of wavelengths or frequency, it's kind of all over the place for me, but when I'm walking, there will always be one moment when I feel like the frequency just matches my next idea. The process for me is waiting.” I don't really go out of my way to rigorously look for what I want to work on. I also pray and meditate about what to paint next. My thought process is very passive in that I'm just sitting still or mindlessly walking around until I find that creative spark. T: I love that. Once you get that creative spark, do you just let your mind take creative control and just create in the moment? A: I have tried to do that, but it goes haywire, and I never liked the work. When I get that spark, that's when I sit down and start to think, “how do I want to build on this idea?”. Sometimes, I flick through Pinterest, I flick through books. I like to start to draw everything down, put everything together, and once I have that initial drawing, that's when I transpose it onto the canvas. My thought process when it comes to painting is very simple. It's not that sophisticated.  New Face of Fear (Informational Liaisons)  by Ahsea Kim T: Based on a pre-cohort interview you had with the team, the Bible helps you analyze both your individual purpose and relationships in this life. However, you've also mentioned an interest in the concept of desire and how we become what we long for, idolized in worship. How much of your identity would you say is attributed to the teachings of your religion, as opposed to your own growing interests and aspirations? A:  I think my own flesh and mind has had its opposition to the teachings of the Bible. It's hard because I have to essentially go against my own natural desires to follow what God has commanded me to do.  I would say it's always been a struggle. Most of my identity comes from the word of God, which is the Bible. Remember how I mentioned reflecting on your purpose in life? Like, “why are we here?”. I am constantly questioning things around me, there is power in being introspective. Always asking those questions is what makes me, me. If I don't have the word of God, I would go far as to say I don't really have an identity. My whole identity is built and based on the Bible, and I do have my fleshly aspirations, but I know how sweet it is to walk with God. I know that's an abstract term, but I just say I walk with God because He's always here with me. T: I love that your faith propels you as both an artist and person. What gravitates you towards acrylic painting as your primary medium?  A: It's the medium that I'm most accustomed to. It's fast drying. I like the speed and ease of using acrylic compared to other paints such as oil. It's not the idea of trying to get a painting done as fast as possible, because I've tried that and I always hated the outcome. So it's not that. But acrylic paint itself suits my pace, it's easy to use. It's easy to wash the paint off the brush. It's a very simple process, I love how practical it is and love how it looks after. I'm a very simple person.  Later in the future, I do see myself experimenting with other mediums as well, like oil on canvas or acrylic on linen canvas. T: I’d love to see you experiment with different painting methods, given how beautiful your acrylic paintings are. Lastly, what fears do you have as an artist, and how do you hope to overcome them? A : I'm just gonna be really honest. You know that cliche, the starving artist? It's a reality for me right now.  “I do have a passion for painting and I'm quite confident that I'll never give up, I'll never let this go, no matter how hard this road is. I think I'm quite determined in that way because I believe that this is God's calling for me, and I believe in myself and my talents as well. I have confidence in God.”  As of right now, I'm not really making a living out of it, so those financial fears are still there. Am I being too honest? T: No, I admire your vulnerability and this is a reality for many artists. It's very inspiring to see people still pursuing their artistic passions regardless. Financial fears, just as many other fears are the reality for many artists and your answer will definitely resonate with many. A:   Yes, you can’t deny it. I am still excited because I don't really know where this is going, but for me, it's just important to do the best with what I have. I think this season is for me to give my 800% in painting. It's my passion. I love it. It helps me feel closer to God, which is really important to me.  For me, what helps alleviate my fears is my faith. To trust the process, trust that God has what's best for me. I do believe that He has great things in store for me, but it's faith that keeps me going as an artist. I have faith in what He promised me, and that's it. That's all I have, but it's all I need. You can see Ahsea Kim's full final project by purchasing Issue 04: Amygdala.

Bre: What does fear look like to you, and how does this tie into your project for Issue 4? Sam: [My piece] is about the fear of identity/rejection. It’s centered on queerness, religion, and growing up in the South and how those [elements] intermix and intermingle, making it a really beautiful but also really frightening experience because a lot of those things don't necessarily coincide. This fear physically manifests in this form that I've made, that contains a face with multiple features. It translates this idea of being a lot of different versions of yourself that you want to honor, but [being unsure of] how to do that, and therefore being scared of how those different parts of yourself are going to be perceived by the people you love. B: If fear were a tangible material like clay, what would the texture be like? How would you work with it? S: I think that it would be this phase of clay called “bone dry,” which is after you’ve made something, it’s set out for a while, and right before it gets fired. It’s the most vulnerable state that the clay can be in. Whenever damage occurs, it’s almost irreversible because you can’t get the clay wet again to fix it. This relates to this idea of irreversible problems or cracking, or this weird intermediate phase of where you have to be careful. It reminds me of walking on eggshells, or the idea that things could go wrong at any moment. B: The vessels in your artwork are castings made of your face. Was this your first time doing life casts? Have you done this to others? What did you enjoy most about this process? S: Yeah! The cast that I did for this was my first one! In hindsight, I'm kind of like, “Oh, I probably should have known a little bit more about the process.” There was a lot of trial and error, and there were aspects of it that didn't really work the way that I wanted it to, which have translated into some modifications. What I learned from the experience was how cathartic it was to be so physically involved in making a piece. I use my hands all the time in sculpture, but to have my face completely coated in plaster, and also the experience of having my senses stripped, was really interesting. I ended up recruiting a friend of mine to help me because I didn't want to be alone whenever I was completely covering my face. So that was an interesting experience to be vulnerable, and relying on another person to make sure that I didn't suffocate. I had some extra materials so I ended up making one of her as well, mine got a little like fucked up in the whole process, so I'm glad to have hers as a little reminder of what we did. B: Your piece is fashioned after “biblical vessels”. Has religious iconography always influenced your work and life? S: I wanted to tie religion to this project because it felt like [it was something I had to] confront. I grew up super religious, very Baptist with a hint of Pentecostal on my maternal grandmother's side. This experience of realizing my queer identity, but also feeling really connected to my religious identity, was something that I wanted to honor. In a lot of art, it's really easy to completely reject religion and spirituality. For a long time I did, and my relationship with that is still tumultuous, but it was my way of confronting while also recognizing that it's still a very deeply ingrained part of who I am and how I came to be this way. I wanted to connect the fear, but also the familiarity of that. The religious imagery specifically I was drawn to, because there's just so much inspiration that I could take from, and the image that I was always going back to, is these paintings where it's a depiction of the Trinity through a portrait of Jesus, but he's got three faces that are interconnected. When I saw that, that's when I started to work on this idea of wanting faces on the pot. As I've said, it's evolved from that. At first, it was going to be almost an exact replica using my face, but the more I started working on it, the more I felt I wanted there to be less unity in those faces. To me, that expressed this experience of feeling disconnected. That was my main inspiration as far as religion, and then I did some research on biblical-era vessels. The shape of the pot itself is also supposed to be akin to an oil transportation type of vessel, that would’ve been used in biblical times. I wanted each piece to have a little bit of a backstory behind it so that it could all stay interconnected. B: If the faces on your vessel could speak, what would they say? S: I would like to think that they’d all say something different. I feel like this piece is so much about all of these other facets of yourself and who they are, what journey they’re on, and how fully realized they are …or maybe the lack of being fully realized. Some would discuss their childhood and growing up experiences, while others would explore being a young adult and redefine their relationship with religion and spirituality. And then some would talk about queerness and that being a different kind of religion or experience. Though I think they would all say something about still being the same person, even though each one brings a different side to the table. B: Is there anything you wish people to know about before delving into this artwork, and what would you like their takeaway to be? S: I think the main thing to know in receiving the work is that you may be afraid to be all of these different versions of yourself, but I hope that the viewer will find a little bit of solace in that all of us have this the same confusion, and it feels just as disjointed and dysregulating for everybody. The scary part is that maybe there's no answer, but in that, I hope that there's a connection there. There's this quote that I love: “Sometimes the fear does not subside, and so you must do so afraid,” and I feel like that's a pretty poignant message for this whole theme of fear. I've connected it a lot to this piece, and in working on it, I've been able to be afraid and start to be comfortable with the fear. Maybe the fear is starting to take on this new identity, as well as I'm taking on new identities. You can see Samantha's full final project by purchasing 04: The Identity Issue.

Welcome to Club Rambutan’s Breaking it Down (BID) series, where we shed light on the different areas of operations that make our organization the following three things: A Creative Collective (Event Planning, Social Media, Rambutan Roundup Newsletters) A Digital Residency (Cohorts, Artist Resource Group (ARG), Alumni) A Magazine (Formatting, Shipping Logistics, Packaging Design) This article will explain all the components of Club Rambutan’s Digital Residency . First, let’s start with terminology, with examples from Cohort 2’s slide deck for Onboarding Day: Cohort: A group of individual artists who are selected to join the Digital Residency. A cohort number is the same as its issue (i.e. Cohort 2 artists are in Issue 2). Also refers to the overall 6 month** timeline that it takes for our team to produce one magazine. A cohort officially begins on Onboarding Day and concludes with a “launch party". **For Cohort 5 and onward, this timeline will most likely change to accommodate an annual magazine as opposed to biannual. Cohort Artist: Each artist in a cohort must complete an original project within their time in residency. Their final piece must align with the issue’s theme** and meet our print standards in order to be published (at no cost to them). They primarily work with the Creative Director and Artist Resource Group (ARG). ** Each theme is purposely a broad, global topic decided by the Creative Director (EX: Issue 01 on multiculturalism , 02 on beauty, 03 on identity, 04 on fear). The magazine focuses on uplifting artwork made through an intersectional lens, given that we prioritize working with artists of marginalized /underrepresented identities.   Alumni: Once a cohort artist successfully completes their digital residency, they remain in our alumni network. The ARG runs a regular newsletter just for them, including a curated job board and spotlights to plug what they're working on now! We also do our best to continue including our alum in all our post-cohort projects, like: Jalen del Rosario & Angelina Byun (Cohort 1 alumni) - vendors at our NYC "soft launch" pop up GP Pabros (Cohort 3 alum) - led the photoshoot for Pyres of Desire Fashion Show (seen in Issue 04) GP Pabros on set with SF Event Coordinator Jules Agsalog and Founder Maria Manaog Destiny Montoya  (Cohort 3 alum) - curated Only My Honesty Matters , our first community art gallery. Destiny Montoya, curator for OMHM (August 2025) Wyatt Fields (Cohort 4 alum) - filmed and directed the concept video for The Pyres of Desires , our first our first fashion show. Next, let’s go over Club Rambutan’s selection process for Cohort Artists. Our Cohort Artist applications are always announced via our official Instagram account ( @club.rambutan ) and are integrated onto the home page of our website. We usually leave the apps open for two weeks, and then the Creative Director and Editor in Chief will review all the final submissions together. All applicants will receive an update afterwards, but those chosen for the next and final stage of the vetting process will be invited to a video interview with both leaders within the following week. Questions are not provided to interviewees ahead of time, but the final selections for the upcoming cohort of our Digital Residency are heavily influenced by how the artist aligns with our three guiding principles: ( learn more about them on our digital residency page! ) Skill Sharing It Takes a Village Creating for a Higher Purpose Overall, Cohort Artists are imperative to the production of each issue for the mag. Their physical artwork is more than just the content you’ll read in the magazine, but are powerful stories and experiences. This is the exciting part! Because we know that our Cohort Artists come from all sorts of intersectional backgrounds, by providing them with a very broad theme to work with, the magazine collects very different interpretations of what it means to each of them. Finally, here’s what our Digital Residency can offer our Cohort Artists. Unlike typical artist residencies, we are based completely online. Although our long term goal is to one day establish a brick and mortar studio, for now our co-working space looks like biweekly Zoom meetings with our Creative Director and Artist Resource Group (ARG). Here’s some things we’ve done so far, want to revisit and improve, and have plans to do… Hosted a professional panel for Cohort 1 with speakers Pacqui Pascal , Ana Peralta Chong , and Nidhi Naroth . Created a social media campaign in Cohort 2 for our artists to directly sell their work to our followers (and keep 100% of all profits!). Researched for and collaborated with our cohort artists to curate exclusive monthly job boards, which began in Cohort 3. Did we mention all cohort artists get a free copy of their magazine? Secure donations from art suppliers to send free welcome packages to our future cohort artists. Keep finding other ways to continue inspiring our cohorts! The overall org chart depicting Club Rambutan’s updated official team structure. Click here to view more. Interested? Cohort Artist Applications are always announced on our Instagram and on our site’s homepage, usually every 6-7 months. Stay tuned! For more questions, shoot us an email at hello@clubrambutan.com.

MAYA If you could maybe give me a quick breakdown of your project, that would be so wonderful. ISABEL: I ended up making a trio of self-portrait-like paintings–in oil and digitally–exploring some of my feelings about being (more) openly queer after a lifetime of not letting that aspect of my identity take center stage. MAYA: What is identity and how would you define it? Has it changed over the years for you? Has it been pretty consistent? ISABEL: For me, identity is what I create, the unique way I think, how I travel through the world, and how I express myself. The first time I realized, “I don’t feel particularly connected to the concept of womanhood–I want foremost to be seen through my art and ideas.” Centering my artistry, and strongly desiring to decenter gender, was key to my non-binary identity. When I was a teenager, being online was important and freeing for me because you don't have to be fully transparent online. You don't have to wear your own face. You don't have to use your full legal name. That was a core moment for me when I realized identity is what I choose and not what I'm born with.  MAYA: As you were talking, sorry, this is really terrible to say. But I was like, oh my god, Tumblr. ISABEL: Yeah, yeah, Tumblr was really important to me! The 2010s art community online was important to me and I think it's changed a lot. It's not really like that online now and I feel sad about that, but I'm sure that younger kids have their own good things that they're making in online spaces through. MAYA: I hope they can carry on the legacy.  Anyway, Issue 3 is centered on the theme of identity. What aspects of your own identity and your definition of identity are you looking to tie into this piece?  ISABEL: I'm focusing on my nostalgia for the freedom I described when I was a teenager and when I am online. I grew up in Auckland, New Zealand, and then I moved to America for college. In my senior year, I was done with all my technical degree requirements, so suddenly I had the free time to pick the classes that I wanted. I returned to creative writing, found more artistic and queer friends, and I finally felt like I had time to create.  I was returning to a version of myself that I originally liked better, that had been stuffed in the closet for me to achieve my girlboss career goal dreams.  As a teenager, I always knew I was queer, but I was from New Zealand, a country of 5 million people, basically a small US state.I'm a cultural late bloomer, in the sense that I was only really around vibrant queer communities after I moved to the US. My art is about that process of late blooming, through my more recent experiences about growing into my identity again. MAYA: Would you say you're coming full circle or you're blooming? From the digital age of the 2010s online, where you were anonymous, coming full circle to now…do you think that person you were online in the 2010s is now the person you are now in reality? ISABEL: I'm more of that person again, but now in a real space. Back then, I didn't have that; I had a couple queer friends in high school. At that point, the term GSA (Gay Straight Alliance) hadn't even arrived in New Zealand. We didn't know what a GSA was because we lived in a country with a small, limited, queer history. Now, I have all those feelings and intentions again, but I'm lucky that I'm in the Bay Area in California, where there's a really rich history that I can learn from and bring into who I was before. MAYA: I saw that you said your identity is defined by “falling into in-between spaces”. How did this play a role in your project?  ISABEL: Starting out, I made different drafts and compositions that are about facets of my personality or identity. For each person, there is so much across a cultural identity, where you personally grew up versus your heritage and your ancestry, gender, and even age and experiences, etc. So far, there's a gap between these pieces that I've made because I haven't been able to reconcile those things. The “in-betweenness” of it is that it's hard to neatly put them all together because they feel really disparate;  It's hard to say that I have a defined persona or path that's been trodden before. I'm trying to piece together these parts of me in languages or vocabularies that haven't existed yet.  MAYA: When I was looking through your portfolio, I noticed you use a lot of bright, eye-catching colors, even when the subject is not as positive. Traditionally, as a non-artist, I see bright colors as a sign of something positive. Do you think this is going to affect how people are going to view your work?  ISABEL: I love using bright colors and doing a lot of high contrast in my work. Sometimes, when I'm trying to do a more subdued piece or a palette-limited piece, I look at it, and I'm like, no, I'm gonna add all the colors back in. Some of this is my personal style. Recently my old roommate moved out and took all the furniture with her, so I ordered new furniture. When people stop by, they're like, this looks like a children's museum. I'm really excited by a work that evokes love and joy. If it's not necessarily a positive emotion that the piece is expressing, the vibrancy has a lot of intensity and impact, and that's what I'm drawn to. A long time ago, I did a series of works that was focusing on youth expression, and I was using really intense and bright colors to imply this need to be loud and audacious in that space to be heard. I can use vibrancy in a way that isn't necessarily positive. Overall, it's just for me, it makes me feel really intensely about the work, and I hope the viewer does too. M: When you say you're working in computer science, do you do UI/UX, or computer science?  ISABEL:  I'm a software engineer, but I've been continuing my research from college because I want to go back and do a PhD in the next two years. I grew up on the internet and the internet then is such a fascinating medium for me, for communities, for building a way for artists to connect with each other. I do research on how artists interact with the internet, how digital artists use software, etc. I'm also interested in youth on the internet, like digital safety for young people. The software engineering job is what I'm doing on the side to save up for when I make no money during a PhD.  MAYA: Do you apply any of this digital experience to your artwork? Does this affect you in any way or do you keep work and art separate?  ISABEL: Before I studied computer science at all, I was already interested in the internet. In some of my older works you can see these digital motifs, before I even knew anything about how to build software. I'm working on trying to use these skills to incorporate them into my art. Recently, a friend and I made a web story, a lot of text with some illustrations, and we hosted it on an interactive website because I know how to code now. I'm also interested in things like computational poetry, which people like because it's so interactive and  you can click buttons and generate new words programmatically. That's the thing that I've been trying to learn more about. So in some ways, it's coming together. MAYA: You talk about continuously experiencing growth and change throughout your life, right? So has there ever been a time where you were stagnant, where there was no change? And if so, what did you take away from it and how has it affected your perspective? ISABEL: It's hard to pinpoint a time that I felt stagnant because, inversely, I was changing a lot and I couldn't tell what exactly was causing it or what was the root cause. When I entered college, that's a point where people say, oh, you change a lot when you enter university. At the same time, I was moving to a country I'd never been to before where I didn't have any family and I didn't know anyone. All my New Zealand friends asked, do you feel America made you different? I didn’t know if it was America, or computer science, starting university, but everything was changing. I couldn't tell if it was good or inevitable. Now that I've graduated, it’s in my own hands to build my own schedule. You take a little more initiative to look for the communities that you want to be a part of and contribute to. This is the place where I could see myself, you know, taking a breather or having almost the opportunity to stagnate if I wanted to. MAYA: So do you want the chance to stagnate? That has a very negative meaning though . Do you think routine is now more important than change, even though maybe the change wasn't necessarily a choice? ISABEL: Recently, I've been feeling a lot of pressure from myself to continue doing the things I was doing before in college at the same rate, while also working a 9 to 5.I want to be putting out a lot of artwork or making a lot of artwork. I want to be writing more. I want to be publishing things. I want to be doing my research. But there isn't the rigidity of, oh, this is class time, this is college club time or whatever. I have my 9 to 5, and I'm trying to cram as many things in after work as possible. What I probably need is some kind of reset to look at what I'm doing and say, is this what I have time for? Is this healthy for me? That’s the benefit of taking a moment to sit and breathe. MAYA: For sure. I feel it's a pretty common experience after college to feel lost once you no longer have that community. I have one more question for you and it is a little bit of a broad one, so feel free to answer however you like. What drives and motivates you? What do you live for? ISABEL: I'm just really excited about the world. There are so many fun and beautiful things to look forward to in any aspect of life, so that's something that motivates me, one, to just get up every day, but also in my art. I'm very excited by other people's work. Not necessarily art made by other artists, but the art of someone leaving a note in a public space, or drawing a dog in the corner in wet concrete. What the world looks like, what it has to offer, and what people have to offer to each other I find really endearing. I spend a lot of time taking joy in as I move through the world.  You can see Isabel’s full final project by purchasing 03: The Identity Issue .

MAYA : Can you do a quick breakdown of the project? MARISA : Meet me by the pixel stream is a sculptural and digital project that I'm developing with Grace Wardlaw , a glassblower and artist. We have these glass pieces and metal lily pads that hold two different animations. The animation is what I've developed for Club Rambutan. The idea is to create this world where we’re questioning sexuality in a postdigital or postgender-based world. Below are work-in-progress images courtsey of Marisa Müsing and Grace Wardlaw. We're positioning the digital space as the future environment where we can explore our sexualities and concepts of gender. The inspiration came from this poem, “The Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti, which was written in the 1800s. The poem is a fairy tale of two sisters - it’s a little sapphic and queer coded - where one of them gets lured into this forest where these goblins have very desirable fruit for her to eat. When she eats them, she becomes ill, then the other sister has to go into the forest to get the fruit in order to bring her back to life. The second sister gets the fruit but refuses to eat it in front of the goblins, and they get nasty and creepy. There's this strange element of desire, then fear and danger that comes from the story. The actual history of the poem is inspired by Christina’s friend, a model who died of drug overdose, and was in the art world during the Pre-Raphaelite movement in the 1800s. Rossetti was drawing parallels between the desire and fantasy of the art world to the realities of it with drug overuse, starving yourself, etc. We wanted to create an updated version of the Goblin Market comparing it to the digital world today.  Are we ourselves the problem online? We have this very enticing space that we've built for ourselves and are acting within to portray our identities in a certain way, is it for ourselves or for the algorithm? MAYA : What would you say identity is and how would you define it?  MARISA : Identity is how you perceive yourself or want to be perceived in the world. I don't think it needs to be a marker of where you're from necessarily. That often ties into it, and feels like who you are as a person. I myself am Chinese and German and was born in Canada, so my parents and grandparents wereall from different parts of the world. Having a mixed race background and recently coming into my own sense of queerness, showed me that there's something strange about being part of these mixes of markers, not really fitting into any specific box and always kind of feeling very floaty. That's something that I have learned to learn; your identity is constantly something that you're editing and revising. I’m constantly changing, but I feel like myself. I'm often in this fluid world. It's like, what am I, where am I, who am I?  MAYA: What aspects of identity are you looking to share with your project? MARISA : Femininity is constantly changing. I'm quite interested in how it is explored online, with hyperfemininity like, “e-girls,” “girly pop,” spaces, and then also the trans, non-hetero, androgynous elements that we can play within ourselves. This idea of, I don’t know, seeing yourself as like a dragon online or something, there's so many variables as to how you define yourself in the digital space. We're very curious about how the influence of digital also changes how we perceive ourselves physically, too. There's this relationship between our own physical bodies and then what we present outwardly through these personas on digital accounts that we hold, or relationships we have with people online or offline.  Below are two memes Marisa provided as part of her references this project (lol). MAYA : You discuss cyberfemininity a lot. Is this what you're talking about and how do you define that?  MARISA : There's so many different types of cyberfeminism. I don't really know which one I identify with the most. Legacy Russell’s work is really inspiring to me, like Glitch Feminism , which she wrote in 2020. It describes the digital self as something that is meant to disrupt and distort, and she uses words like “haunting” or “creep” online, where you are actively opposing the system or fiddling with what is already out for us. We are constantly trying to play with what is the self and how we are being perceived online. That is a question always with cyberfeminism, especially right now. I mean, cyber feminism has existed since the 90s, but under different circumstances. It was a westernized concept for a long time for middle class white women within liberal arts or academic spaces, where it wasn't really accessible as a term for everyone. It's really changed and there's so many different variations now of what that can mean. There's, you know, indigenous futurisms, cyborg witches, transhackfeminism, ecofuturists and other guerrilla theorists that assert cyberfeminist practice in different ways. There's a lot to play with because of that. And that book makes it really exciting.  MAYA: To jump off of that, what do you think are the biggest differences between how cyberfemininity is used in like queer spaces versus heteronormative spaces?  MARISA: Both queerness and cyberfeminism are big buzz words right now, which is a funny thing. Sometimes I use them in ways where I think, maybe this isn't the right term to use, but it's the only one that I can find that makes the most sense. In heteronormative spaces, there's walls that are built up with limits on who can access it and why.  Like TERFs (trans-exclusionary radical feminist), how they're like, “oh, feminism is for everyone but these people,” and that doesn't make any sense. In queer spaces there's more access, especially for POC and marginalized communities, that allows for a more open, honest conversation and connection to others in very grounded ways. I've been looking into a lot of witchcraft recently, and there's so much that connects to indigenous practices of seeing the body not be the center of everything.  We are a part of a landscape of different beings and elements and it's not always just about us. It's about how that connects to everything else. There's a lot more beauty and nuance and weirdness within queer spaces than heteronormative spaces. Queer as a word means to be angled; it’s opposed to the straight line or the direct. It’s always following this other path, moving, meandering rather than going from point A to point B.  MAYA : Yeah, that's a really, really good way to put it. Another question I had is, there's a lot of intangible ideas here. How did you go about making them tangible?  MARISA : When we first started the project, it came from the poem and then we thought, “What do we do with this?” It ended up turning into a world building project, because we both work  through creating spaces or environments. My work personally tends to be within watery environments or dewy spaces; there’s something interesting about finding softness in a technological space. We wanted to create an environment where there were these lily pad structures that are holding glass seed pods, which are reflections of the body being absorbed or blossoming.  I started to look into hydrofeminism, which is another kind of subsection within feminism written by Astrida Neimanis, and the concept that we are bodies of water. As humans, we have water in our system. We ingest water, we expel water. It’s a part of us, but also what we do to the waters and pathways around us, which is something that we should put more care into. With the global infrastructure right now, there's so many toxins and industrial waste spilled into our ecosystems and destroying our habitats. As the fish start eating them and we eat the fish, the toxins become part of our bodies. All of our internet cables are underwater pathways that are the connections to all of us digitally right now. We rely on these resources to tie us together in very material formations. It's not just an ephemeral quality, it’s something very tangible and a real connection for us.  MAYA : So in your project, are you portraying Bas grotesque or beautiful? I was curious that if you're focusing more on softer environments, how are you going to bring the grotesque into it? Or are you going to lean more towards the beautiful? MARISA: It's grotesque enough that it's beautiful, or so beautiful that it's grotesque. With digital imagery right now, are really curious about this idea of creating these sexy digital watercolor goblins through this project. This environment is for these enticing, creepy, sexy trolls. Maybe that's what we are! I tend to stay within this beautiful space, and there's a lot of excitement when it strays into something weird or worse in some way. It's not just about aesthetics necessarily, it's a question of what is being said, and why is this character like that? What is that strange element in the scene that's changing how you feel about it? It ties into this idea of the uncanny valley , where it’s distorted enough that it makes you begin to question your environment and space.This uncanniness ties into the physical sculptural pieces, like the fact that these lily pads and seeds are made out of materials that aren't natural, industrial materials like glass and metal. There's always a lot more to work with when it starts to become gross or creepy rather than purely beautiful.  Below are a few final captures from Marisa and Grace’s exhibit. Image credits to Marisa Müsing and Alison Postma. MAYA : Yeah, the line is really blurred. Is there any context you think an audience would need before viewing your work, anything you would like to say beforehand before they see it?  MARISA : It would be good for them to read the poem beforehand. Maybe it wouldn't explain anything, but it would build the narrative for what we're working through with this new project. The question that we were asking ourselves is “how did we explore our own sexualities online?”. When was that moment? That's what drew us to these different parts of the project. That's an open question for people like, when was that moment for you? What do you remember? Who was it with or what thing was it with? I’d ask people to be open with the idea of what body and identity can mean for you. It's different for everyone, especially in digital spaces. You can see Marisa’s full final project by purchasing 03: The Identity Issue . It is also currently being featured in “I want you to see this”  at Xpace Cultural Centre in Toronto.

If any of our SF readers find themselves in Sac Town, or decide they want an excuse to go, I want to hook you up with one of the coolest spots I’ve been to in the City of Trees. Demo Art & Books  ( demo.spot  on IG) is a Sacramento-based “multipurpose space for experimentation,”. I initially thought it was an art bookstore, which it is, but it is also an independently owned art gallery, event space, radio station, and occasional host to underground raves. As you enter the space, you’ll find its bookstore front and center, stocked with curated books on fine art, design, photography, typography, fashion, and more. They also carry local artists’ zines, poetry, essays on social movements, and so much more. Its gallery space hosts monthly exhibitions, events, and art classes taught by local artists as well. I was introduced to Demo by my beloved friend Meg, and we were both in awe of their wide variety of reads I ended up buying two editions of a zine called Spillll , made by a collective of 4 ESEA (East / Southeast Asian) queer women creatives based in London. The zines are inspired by conversations around their own dining table on food, feminism, queerness, language and women, violence, feasting, and include personal recipes, comics, and essays. I’ve been so inspired and obsessed with what they’re doing, since I’ve also been hyperfixated on the intersections between language and violence, particularly toward women. If you’re interested, you can find them @ spillll.studio  on Instagram. Meg ended up with books on logos and anarchist design. We also found out that they have a radio station called DEMO RADIO , an online radio station that hosts both visiting and local DJs and artists. They go live pretty frequently and stream straight from DEMO, behind a glass screen right by all the books. Radio reruns  can be found on their website for listening any time. To the right of the store is the gallery space, which Meg and I ended up returning to only a few weeks later for a figure drawing class. It was perfect timing for both of us, because we had just talked about getting back into sketching and reconnecting with creative impulses, regardless of how long we hadn’t done it, or our anxiety about how “good” we are. The class featured a live model at the center of the room, and was led by Esther Wang , the founder of DEMO. She was really kind and encouraging, and the series of quick-time drawings she led helped us get in front of our fear and just do it. The class was packed and everyone was locked in on sketching the model as he moved from pose to pose, pencils rapidly scratching against paper. DEMO posts calendars  of all the art classes and events they’re hosting on their website and Instagram, with classes in pottery, figure drawing, riso printing, and more! I’ve been dying to go to a riso printing class, and it’s being hosted by a local artist whose style I really adore. Risograph printing is kind of like digital screenprinting, done in layers with eco-friendly ink! The zines made by Spillll are done in riso and you can see how the medium produces a distinguishably vibrant aesthetic. Demo is run solely by independent creatives and host a bunch of insanely cool events, so make sure to check 'em out and support them if you’re ever in the area!