INFLUX Magazine_Spring 2025

SPRING 2025

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

EMMA WALYTKA & ELLA ANDERSON

When we first began working on

this edition of InFlux we were

overwhelmed, yet eager at the

possibility of creating a magazine

that reflected on the people, places and

things that physically influence us as human

beings. Just like the theme of physicality

itself, the space is broad, and at times even

undiscovered. We wanted to dive into the

undiscovered. The underrepresented. To be

bold in the spaces we occupy and tell the

stories of our community with color and a

passion for connection.

What made this magazine so special

was the people who filled it cover to cover

with their reporting, pictures, designs and

words. Together, with our team of 35 talented

individuals we embarked on InFlux’s largest

edition to date. Everyone explored what

physicality meant to them. How does an idea

translate into movement? How does the digital

landscape affect our self-image? Are there

limits to the ways we can present ourselves?

As you read, we hope you enjoy encountering

these journeys of exploration: The trials

and triumphs of being a college student and

working multiple jobs. The effects of artificial

intelligence on physical art. The dive into the

underground to discover the unknown. Each

of these pieces offers insight into how we are

met with physicality in our community.

We are so grateful for the incredible team

that created the magazine in front of you.

This team came together in collaboration to

create something greater than ourselves. We

would like to especially thank Sara Quinn and

Mark Porubcansky for their guidance and

continued help throughout the production

process. In the end, InFlux felt like not only

a magazine but also a family; one that has

made memories, crafted stories and uplifted

everyone involved.

We hope these stories will inspire you to

go forth and discover the people and places

around you, as they have inspired us.

Sending our love no matter where you are,

Emma Walytka and Ella Anderson

Printed by Modern Press

808 First St SW

New Brighton

MN 55112

All rights reserved

© 2025 by The Hubbard School of

Journalism and Mass Communication

University of Minnesota

Murphy Hall, 206 Church Street SE

Minneapolis, MN 55455

This publication is made possible by the Milton L. Kaplan Memorial Fund.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means

without the prior written permission of the publisher, excepting brief

quotes within bounds of fair use. / copyright.gov/fls/fl102.html

For more info contact Sara Quinn, squinn@umn.edu

2 / INFLUX MAGAZINE / 2025

table of contents

4. Working full-time:

the overlooked college

experience

8. Trust in the grind

14. Black men teach

18. Future of dining out

24. 16-year-old pre-med

student

28. Little free libraries

30. Generations in hockey

ON THE COVER:

Choreographer Brenna Mosser (front),

moves in mid-performance dance in

Minneapolis on February 27, 2025.

Read more about her work on page 56.

PHOTO BY MARGARET POULOS

32. What is digital

dysmorphia?

36. Generative AI:

a curse or a tool?

38. Rhythms of heritage

40. Alotta Shots,

but one at life

46. Weisman SEEN exhibit

48. The power of pets

52. Urban exploration:

Armadillo Underground

55. Crafting with

imperfect hands

56. Choreography:

Dancing the vision

62. 5 tips for running

a marathon

63. Travel tips for a

looooonnng flight

64. Keith Haring:

The radiant baby

reborn

70. Taekwondo club

72. A fashion archive:

Q&A with Goldstein

curator

78. Dakota word songs


ILLUSTRATIONS BY LILIAN NGUYEN

Will the demands of a

loan repayment schedule decide

my choice of career?


PERSONAL ESSAY

An overlooked

college experience

Working full-time as a full-time student is a constant internal battle;

one that I try to see the positive in.

BY SOFIA ESPARZA

It was 5:40 a.m. and the sky had begun

to turn orange when I unlocked my bike.

I put an airpod in my right ear, pressed

play on a rap playlist, and started pedaling

for the three-mile uphill ride to work.

Another 40-hour work week was ahead.

By the time I started my 6 a.m. shift as a

rental desk assistant at the University of

Minnesota’s Fleet Services

Facility, the campus vehicle rental,

I was drenched in sweat and

out of breath.

That was last summer, before

I bought my first car. I’m used to

working: I worked during high

school, and I hold down a fulltime

job while at the university,

but six miles of biking in addition

to my eight-hour shift was Esparza

Sofia

just too much. Even for me.

The National Center for Education

Statistics said that as of 2020, only 10% of

full-time college students worked more

than 35 hours per week. Forty percent of

full-time students are unemployed.

On my 14th birthday, I applied for

my first job. It was at a Culver’s restaurant

in my neighborhood in Eau Claire,

Wisconsin. I worked 18 hours a week,

the legal maximum for children under 16.

Being the only eighth grader to request time

off for amateur after-school volleyball games

was embarrassing.

Through high school, I worked two jobs.

The longest I worked without a day off was 15

days. The money I made went to college savings

or my phone bill, but most went toward

funding my club volleyball, which I played

year-round and proudly paid for myself.

However, when I committed to the

University of Minnesota, nothing could’ve

prepared me for the financial burden that

came along with pursuing a four-year degree.

As a first-generation college student, I had no

background and little guidance for important

financial decisions about student loans. My

high school savings were gone by the first

semester. I had no choice but to take out federal

and private student loans if I wanted to

continue my education.

One in four U.S. adults under

40 have student loan debt,

according to the Pew Research

Center. My dad cosigned my

loans because I wasn’t approved

on my own and my bachelor’s

degree depended on it. While I

calculated what my future repayment

plans would look like, student

loan debt became a divisive

political issue during the Biden

presidency. My dad still hopes that promises

of student loan forgiveness come to fruition.

I frequently worry about how my student

debt will affect my future. Will the demands

of a loan repayment schedule decide my

choice of career? I already struggle with the

low wages offered for internship positions. I

can’t help but feel that college is harder for

low-income students like myself, who have to

prioritize paying bills over gaining relevant

job experience.

As a junior in college, I work six days a

week. Apart from my leadership responsibilities

in two student magazines, I balance

my desk job at the university with a part-time

leasing consultant gig at my apartment complex.

I was struggling to keep up with rent

payments so the housing discount it offers

took some pressure off.

CONTINUED →


“Be a shark,” my father always said.

“Hard work will be rewarded.”

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Week

WED THU FRI

2 3 4

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12 - 4pm

Dinner with Dre, Corey,

and Aja

Buttercup Exec Meeting

7 - 8pm 6:30 - 8pm

Now, I work five steady 6 a.m.-2 p.m. shifts during the work

week, a rare schedule for a college student trying to keep up

with the demands of extracurricular activities, job hunting

and a social life.

When I stare at myself in the mirror in the early hours

before work, I see the exhaustion underneath my eyes. I think

about how lucky my roommates are to stay sleeping while I

splash my face with cold water. I think about how they’ll all get

ready for the day together and try to calm my fear of missing

out.

I struggle with the fact that my college experience looks

entirely different from that of my friends. I had dreams of

studying abroad, spending hours in the library between

classes and waking up after sunrise to a slow morning with

an iced latte.

The physical toll of working full-time as a student is draining.

I average five hours of sleep. When I’m not working, I want

to rest, making it difficult to find the energy to do homework. I

still think about how my legs would ache in the evenings when

I was biking to work.

“Be a shark,” my father always said. “Hard work will be

rewarded.” I grew up watching him work 12-hour overnight

shifts at the local Nestle factory. As a Mexican immigrant in

a country where immigration is perhaps the most divisive

political issue of all, he’s the hardest worker I know and my

source of strength. He taught me to use every opportunity

to my advantage and to see the value in paying for school

myself.

It’s a constant battle between wishing my situation was

different, and being grateful for my life as is. I wish my parents

could afford to help me through school, but my seven

siblings depend on them. I wish I had been smarter about

applying for financial aid as a freshman. I wish I didn’t

have to watch my friends leave for late-night bonfires and

dinners while I pack my lunch for my shift the next morning

and get ready for bed.

However, I do find satisfaction in being productive. It

feels almost fear-based: I worry that I’ll miss out on opportunities

if I’m not working as hard as I possibly can.

My desire to make my bachelor’s degree and my parent’s

sacrifices worth it weighs on me. They envisioned a better

future for their kids and working this hard is the only

way I’ve known to achieve it.

I get to attend college, unlike my parents. I have a job

that pays me well. I have a roof over my head and I can

afford to pay my rent on time. I have a higher income

than my mother.

Working 40 hours a week as a full-time student is

far from ideal. But it isn’t terrible. It’s a unique experience,

one that only a fraction of students go through.

My college experience may look different, but I like

to think it gives me a competitive edge. After all, the

early bird gets the worm.



Trust in

the Grind

STORY & PHOTOS BY RAINA BREWER

When Tara Wright offered to buy the coffee shop she had only been working at

for six months — her bosses laughed at first — and then they told her to earn it.


STORY & PHOTOS BY RAINA BREWER

Before Tara Wright could become a

well-known and respected personality

on the West Side of Saint Paul as

owner and operator of Amore Coffee,

she had to get a job there. She almost didn’t.

It was 2013. Wright had just moved to

West St. Paul, bought a house, and was working

for the state as a care provider. She was

also working against the poverty cycle as a

single mom.

“It’s almost impossible to pull yourself out

of the poverty loop,” Wright said. “It’s a level of

poverty that most people don’t understand.”

For Wright, being stuck in this loop left

her feeling unstable for many years. With every

little win, she worried a catastrophic loss

lurked behind the corner.

“Being poor is one thing, but being systematically

stuck is completely different,”

Wright said.

But Wright came to the West Side with a

sense of hope for new beginnings.

In those first few weeks exploring her

new neighborhood, Wright recalls a gloomy

spring day spent with her cousin Ashley, driving

across Saint Paul’s landmark High Bridge

and up the steep slope of Smith Avenue —

right past Amore.

Wright recalls that her immediate thought

was: “Oh, that place is cute, I’d like to work

there.”

A month or so later, Wright found herself

strolling into Amore for a fresh-squeezed

Amore Coffee, March 13, 2025.

Items from Tara Wright’s

memorabilia at Amore

Coffee in Saint Paul,

March 20, 2025.

lemonade and a job application.

“My cousin was like, ‘You’re crazy, why

would you want to work there? You already

have a great job.’ ” Wright said.

“I felt drawn to this place,” Wright said. “I

knew right away when I walked in that I belonged

here.”

Nancy Breymeier and Cate (formerly

CAPTION CAPTION

CAPTION

Kathy) Hauser, romantic partners and the

shop’s co-owners, were at odds on whether to

hire the “bubbly” lemonade girl.

“Kathy was the one that didn’t want to hire

me at first,” Wright said. “To Kathy, Amore was

more than just a coffee shop, it was their passion

project and they were protective of it.”

It was likely, at least partially, because

she had no experience, but Wright said that

Hauser chalked it up to being overstaffed.

But Nancy, who took on more of the financial

side of the business, knew Wright was

worth the risk.

“She had no experience, but said she

would work for free just to learn,” Breymeier

said. “That was when I knew she would be the

best employee.”

It wasn’t long until both of her bosses began

taking notice of her work ethic.

“I never had to make a list or ask her twice

to do something,” Breymeier said. “In fact,

most of the time I didn’t have to ask at all, she

just did the work that needed to get done.”

A few months into Wright’s employment,

Hauser’s elderly mother took a turn for the

worse and Wright began pulling extra shifts

to cover. Hauser started trusting Wright,

and it wasn’t long until she was promoted to

manager.

For Wright, her sense of community and

her new life was beautifully unfolding. But simultaneously

for Hauser, her passion for the

shop was beginning to dwindle.

“Her mom wasn’t healthy and the relationship

with her partner at the time was ending,”

Wright said. “Simply, Kathy was burnt out.”

Eventually, Hauser and Breymeier announced

they were selling everything: their

belongings, their house, and the coffee shop.

Wright was devastated.

Wright knew she didn’t have any money,

but she also knew she didn’t want to leave

Amore.

”I messaged Nancy and Kathy that night,”

Wright said. “I told them, ‘I don’t know how,

but I would like to buy Amore’ — which was

literally laughable to them.”

But the partners soon realized she was serious.

Breymeier stipulated that she needed

to fix her credit, save money, and buy a house

for her to even consider a sale. Wright was up

for the challenge, and because Breymeier believed

in her, she decided to buy Hauser out

CONTINUED →

Wright holds

a photo of

herself with

former owner

Nancy

Breymeier

on the day

she bought

the business.


Amore is open daily at

6:30 am, 879 Smith Ave S,

West St Paul.

PHOTOS BY RAINA BREWER


while Wright worked out the kinks.

Over the next five years, Wright worked

hard to earn Amore. She worked one-on-one

with Breymeier to fix her credit and get her

finances in order, as well as to learn every position

possible. Today, Wright has a closet full

of hats she wears for Amore: owner, operator,

roaster, cook, barista — and the smiling face

out front.

Over those same five years, Amore’s sales

doubled.

“Tara just needed a bit of encouragement

to realize what kind of person she could become,”

Breymeier said.

Amore was always a special place, but

soon became a bustling local hub for people

both new and old.

A place where community members mingled

and church-goers flocked,

A place where knitting and book clubs

chimed away, and where local bands played

and practiced,

A place where retired school teachers

offered free homework help to students on

Sundays,

And a place where everyone, no matter

who you were, could gather — even the furry

ones.

“She was worth more than I could pay her,”

said Breymeier regarding her former employee.

“I knew right then she needed to own the

coffee shop.”

So, on a handshake agreement, Breymeier

sold Wright the shop.

“It’s not every day that someone chooses

to believe in you the way Nancy believed in

me,” Wright said.

“Sometimes it does hit me, it just kind of

overwhelms me with gratitude and the realization

of my blessing,” Wright said. “It does

take a really — I want to say like — Godly person.

She really did redirect my life in a very

very profound way.”

“Because she was so kind to me, and took

a chance on me, I’m able to help a lot of people

and support a lot of people in a way that

without her trust I would never have been

able to do,” Wright said.

These days, Wright is more of a coffee

person than ever. But every once in a while,

she still enjoys a fresh-squeezed lemonade.

To her, the sweet-and-sour tinge serves as a

refreshing reminder of the satisfaction that

comes from hard work paying off.

Patrons take

time to slow

down.

The shop

has signature

house blend

coffee beans,

roasted

each day.

Tara Wright

sips a freshly

squeezed

lemonade.


Local

K-12

benefits

from

Black

men

who

teach

Bridging the gap in

Minnesota’s Education System

through organized support and

representation

STORY & PHOTOS BY RYANN FROLIK

Thetis White in his classroom at Monroe Elementary School in Coon Rapids, Minn.



“It’s been a brotherhood. I feel

I’ve been taken care of more than

anything else.” — JA’VON COLEMAN

Ja’Von Coleman is shadowing

second-grade teacher Chris Hosey at

Monroe Elementary School as a part of his

student teaching program through Black

Men Teach.

PHOTO BY RYANN FROLIK

Dominick Davis works with a student on

Feb. 26, 2025. PHOTO BY RYANN FROLIK

STORY & PHOTOS BY RYANN FROLIK

It didn’t take long for Dominick

Davis to realize once he started his

teaching career that students often

are treated differently based on

stereotypes.

“I noticed the treatment of

kids was different, depending on

what they looked like, and how they sound

or act,” said Davis, a fifth-grade teacher at

Monroe Elementary School in Coon Rapids,

Minnesota. “For me, every day is a new day.

I don’t care what a student did last year. This

year, with me, we’re going to figure it out so I

can help them reach as far as they want to go.”

Davis, a Black man, is a rarity in public

education in Minnesota.

Currently, Black male teachers make

up only 0.5% of the teaching workforce in

Minnesota, a disparity that often reinforces

educational inequities and creates a lack of

representation for Black students. This gap

is especially felt in classrooms where young

Black boys may never have the opportunity

to experience an academic environment

where equality and diverse perspectives are

prioritized, enriching the overall educational

experience for all students.

Black Men Teach, or BMT, is trying to

change that. Established in 2017, Black Men

Teach was created to address the significant

gap in Black male educators, particularly in

Minnesota. Based in St. Paul, the organization

provides vital resources, including support

for placing and preparing Black male

educators in elementary schools across the

Twin Cities Metro area.

Davis is passionate about understanding

students and offering a sense of community

to those who may not receive as much love

and care at home. In its early years, BMT

set a goal of achieving 20 percent Black

male teacher representation in the eight

schools they partnered with. As of now, the

organization is working to build a coalition

aimed at expanding to every elementary

school in Minnesota where, according to the

Minnesota Department of Education, nearly

37% of the student population identifies as

BIPOC in K-12 schools.

Black Men Teach offers financial support

to reduce barriers for prospective Black educators,

including paid internships and up

to $20,000 in scholarship support. It also

has partnered with Habitat for Humanity to

offer personalized aid for first-time home

buyers who are in BMT However, its efforts

go beyond financial assistance and include

community and emotional support. The

organization is dedicated to fostering engagement

and creating opportunities for

all students. It seeks to recruit high school

junior and senior boys interested in pursuing

careers in education. Prospective teachers

are offered hands-on experiences that provide

real-world exposure in the classroom,

including 1:1 instructional coaches. Students

develop their skills through creating lesson

plans, shadowing experienced educators and

receiving guidance to help them refine effective

teaching strategies.

Ja’Von Coleman, a student at Concordia

University in St. Paul, is a current member

of the BMT mentorship program who works

with second-grade teacher Chris Hosey at

Monroe Elementary. BMT has opened doors

in ways he never thought possible, Coleman

said. BMT has provided an opportunity to

attend a Black male education conference

in Philadelphia, as well as monthly meetings

with fellow college students, which helps

encourage prospective Black male teachers.

“It’s been a brotherhood,” Coleman said. “I

feel I’ve been taken care of more than anything

else.”

These efforts foster a network that allows

teachers to lean on one other, which in turn

enhances both teaching and learning. Black

Men Teach creates a continuous cycle of

support, reinforcing the understanding that

when educators are empowered and supported,

they are better equipped to provide that

same support to their students.


Dominic Davis teaches fifth-grade at Monroe Elementary School in Coon Rapids, Minn. PHOTO BY RYANN FROLIK


Takeout may take away from

a restaurant’s experience

Takeout is an easy option for customers who want to stay home.

However, restaurants were created to be enjoyed sitting inside.

Michaela Bialek and Paige Miller sip a malt along at Annie’s Parlor on March 19, 2025. PHOTO BY ISABELLA CALDWELL

STORY & PHOTOS BY ISABELLA CASWELL

At Al’s Breakfast, a narrow slice of

Dinkytown that has been getting

people going in the morning for

the past 75 years, there is no microwave,

deep fryer or freezer. And there is no

takeout menu.

Founded by Al Bergstrom in 1950, the

restaurant is still laid out for optimal socialization.

Customers sit at the counter elbow to

elbow, where they can see everything as it is

cooked.

Al’s does not offer takeout orders online

or from the phone number. Current owner

Alison Kirwin said they can only handle the

customers who come in since it’s so small.

But Al’s does offer to-go boxes to customers

who order in person. And if you can’t finish

your breakfast, you can box it up and take it

with you.

Al’s has taken a stand on one side of

a takeout divide in today’s food industry.

Perhaps it is the lingering effects of the

pandemic or inflation, but according to the

Ispos marketing research firm, 45% of those

surveyed said they cook dinner at home

more often since the start of 2024. That’s in

addition to those who prefer to take out their

restaurant food rather than dine in. Escoffier

School of Culinary Arts recorded that 57%

of Americans preferred ordering takeout or

delivery in 2024.

While customers may prefer it, offering

takeout often is not such an easy call for

restaurants. You’ll miss the social aspects of

dining in, and the food probably won’t be as

good by the time you get it home. But in the

end, restaurants need to make money.

CONTINUED →


Isabel Haglin and Will Harris comfortably converse

with customers at Al’s on February 28, 2025.


Costs of takeout

To Kirwin, who worked as a waitress at Al’s

for nearly 20 years before buying it, getting

takeout from a restaurant detracts from the

experience.

Restaurant workers at Al’s put a lot of

effort into making quality dishes. Kirwin believes

restaurants are meant to be sat in. The

vibe of the restaurant adds to the experience

of eating the food.

“If you’re sitting and having a conversation

with somebody, and you’re smelling

things and hearing things and whatever

else, I think that’s a valuable part of dining

out,” Kirwin said.

There is often a cultural element, as well.

Gai Noi, a family-style Laotian restaurant located

on the outskirts of Loring Park, opened

in May 2023. Customers typically order several

shareable plates and eat a mixture of

what their party ordered.

General Manager Minh Tran said the way

Gai Noi serves dishes as soon as they are hot

and ready pays respect to how Southeast

Asians view food culture. Tran immigrated

to the U.S. from Vietnam and appreciates Gai

Noi’s service values.

“If you put in all that work and you don’t

serve it immediately to your guests as soon as

it’s hot and ready, it’s considered an insult,”

Tran said.

Tran also believes that customers who

choose takeout opt out of experiencing the

personalities of staff and guides to the menu.

American customers need a guide to understand

Laotian cuisine if they want to truly

experience something new.

“The absolute best way to experience our

food is to come in, sit down and experience

what it really means to dine as if you were an

Asian person,” Tran said.

Effort to restore a legacy

Food delivery services such as Uber Eats

and DoorDash take a commission on delivery

orders. Annie’s Parlor, just off University

Avenue in Dinkytown, added a DoorDash

option for takeout in January and Uber

Eats in March. Andrew Shackett, director of

restaurant operations, said it is a small price

to pay in order to make Annie’s food more

accessible.

Annie’s originally opened in 1974, and it

is a hotspot for nostalgia, Shackett said. The

diner closed in 2020 and reopened in early

2024. The time gap forced a generation of college

students to miss the Annie’s experience.

People come into Annie’s all the time because

it was a significant part of their time in

college, according to Shackett. It was people’s

favorite place to go for a bite in Dinkytown.

It was a place where people met their significant

others and made friends.

Annie’s is not seeing the same numbers

as it did before it closed during the COVID-19

pandemic. Shackett is hoping takeout might

restore Annie’s legacy of being a popular

community spot to eat and grab a milkshake.

“Takeout is one way we can expand to

younger generations, but also be the spot that

Annie’s used to be on campus,” Shackett said.

On the other hand, the burgers are not as

hot and the milkshakes melt in the takeout

delivery process.

Kemps vanilla ice cream is scooped into a fudge malt for a customer

at Annie’s on March 19, 2025.

PHOTOS BY ISABELLA CASWELL

Staff to interact with

The owner of Gai Noi, Ann Ahmed, aimed

to create a more approachable and accessible

space for people to enjoy Southeast Asian cuisine.

For the management, a good part of that

CONTINUED →


Takeout orders wait to be

bagged and delivered at

Gai Noi on March 2, 2025.


formula depends on treating the staff right,

and how staff members interact with each

other and customers.

Gai Noi prioritizes employees with a

unique business model. The Laotian restaurant

is a non-tipping establishment with an

18% service fee. All front-of-house employees

are paid the same, Tran said. This encourages

employees to help each other out and leads to

a more supportive environment.

Gai Noi has consistent revenue, and that

has not changed since it opened. The restaurant

also has several regulars on a first-name

basis with the staff.

Gai Noi does offer takeout but does not

apply the service charge to those orders

which means that employees do not benefit

as much from takeout orders.

The restaurant staff works hard to hire diverse

and personable employees. Tran wants

Gai Noi to be a safe, comfortable space for

customers and for employees alike. He wants

customers to come in and feel that everyone

can be themselves.

Tran wants Gai Noi to be a haven for

LGBTQ+ people as well, especially during a

time when hate speech is on the rise. Moses

Mohamoud, a front-of-house employee, is

openly bisexual and has worked at Gai Noi

since it opened. He looks forward to going to

work.

“I feel confident when I come in here

rather than out there,” Mohamoud said. “I’ve

stayed here because I enjoy it.”

Mohamoud meets a lot of people and

makes friends with customers. He is comfortable

being himself, and when people ask, he

shares his coming out story.

He said that when Beyoncé came to

Minneapolis during her Renaissance Tour,

some of her dancers went to Gai Noi before

the show. Mohamoud did not know who they

were when he shared his story with the dancers.

They ended up offering him a ticket to

Beyonce’s concert.

“I love sharing my story, you know?”

Mohamoud said. “I want to be a voice to

somebody that may need it.”

If you don’t come in, chances are you’ll miss

that. It might be a good idea to dine out. Tran

said, “When you choose to come here, you’re

supporting so, so, so many people at once.”


Takeout orders are organized and double-checked at Gai Noi on March 2, 2025. PHOTO BY ISABELLA CASWELL


UGO OYEFIA

A 16-year old

pre-med student

defies the odds

Never too early. Do what you love.

BY LIANA CARRIKER

When Ugo Oyefia was about 12

years old, he moved back to

America from Nigeria and was

put into a middle school in St.

Joseph, Missouri. It didn’t take very long for

him to say to himself, “Wait a minute, these

classes are simple.”

So he started taking advanced classes

online. Two years later – at age 14 – he graduated

from high school.

Teachers were sometimes annoyed with

him, Oyefia said, “because I was quite a little

bit ahead of the class,” said Oyefia. “But the

logistics of busing me from a middle school

campus to a high school campus as a 12-yearold

would have been too much.”

Now, all of 16 years old, Oyefia lives on

his own in the Twin Cities. He is a pre-med

student at the University of Minnesota, already

with enough credits to be considered a

sophomore.

He spoke about his experience with InFlux

Magazine. His comments have been edited

for length and clarity.

CONTINUED →


At 16 years old, Ugo Oyefia is a

pre-med student at the University

of Minnesota, already with enough

credits to be considered a sophomore.

PHOTO BY RAINA BREWER

25

You’re a citizen of both Nigeria and

the U.S. You have also lived in the U.K.

What cultural differences have you

experienced?

Well, I think the emphasis on education is

very different. Here in the US, it’s not as emphasized.

I mean, no one really cares about

academics here in the U.S. as much as they

care about the Kansas City Chiefs, or, I don’t

know, the Eagles, or whatever the next team

it is.

In the U.K., it’s ‘Go to a prestigious university,

get yourself out of poverty.’ In Nigeria, it’s

just ‘Go to any university, get a degree, and

hopefully, you can find a good paying job so

you don’t work manual tasks.’ Here in the U.S.,

it’s almost like, ‘Wait a minute, if I go to high

school and I do well in basketball, then I can

go to the NBA, or then I can go to the NFL and

what have you.’

The U.S. really likes to prioritize sports,

which is a little bit odd, but you gotta have

your football.

Q: What made you choose the

University of Minnesota? How does it

align with your academic and career

goals?

Well, the University of Minnesota is a truly

good school. They have some of the greatest

programs for physics and political science

and biology in the country.

The U is not trying to be something it

isn’t. It’s not trying to be the next Princeton

or Harvard. It knows it’s a state school. It

still selects a handful of great and intelligent

individuals. And I think, truly, if you do

want to succeed, you can come here to the

University of Minnesota, and you can find any

opportunity.

Q: What is your support system like?

How do you stay motivated and

focused, especially during challenging

times?

I have a very close relationship with my

mom. I bring her up a lot. Everyone I know

hears something about my mom. That’s

because she calls me almost every, every

day! She’s very determined at pressuring me

every chance she gets.

She lives in Canada and runs a cooking

company, like a private chef of sorts. The

greatest support system I have is just her, my

brothers and my aunt. I have three brothers.

Q: Is she a good cook?

I like her cooking. I don’t get to taste it

quite often, but I do enjoy it.

It would be more efficient if I were commuting

from my family’s house or commuting

to university, but I’m on my own. I’m quite

literally juggling classes and work. So, I have

Ugo Oyefia PHOTO BY RAINA BREWER

“You have to

build a future

for yourself.”

to figure everything out myself, and I think

that’s some important liberty I have been

given. I really do enjoy it quite a lot.

Q: What do you hope to do with your

career in medicine? You talk about

wanting to be a lawyer, too?

I truly do have a passion for medicine, but

I do see a lot of injustices in our healthcare

system here in America that we can change

for the better. That’s really what motivates me

every day.

The best way I can see is learning how to

be a doctor first; learning how to use these

skills and learning to take care of people.

Q: Do you have any advice for

someone who feels they’re “too

young” to pursue their dreams or

make a lasting impact?

We’re on this planet on average, let’s say

80 years. You have 80 years to do whatever

you want … to go become the president, to go

become a governor, to become a doctor, to become

a lawyer, to become a communications

expert, to become a D1 athlete.

Let’s say everyone has 80 years. The sooner

you start on your plans, the better it is. You

are never too young to start working and preparing

for what you want in life.

There are established norms. You have to

be 18 to be in the military. There’s no way you

can bypass that. So maybe you start working

out, you start getting built, and by the time

you are 18, you’re quite ripped and you’re in

good shape so you can join the military.

You must find a way to work towards

your passion. You have to build a future for

yourself.

So every minute of every day, you just have

to say, ‘Am I doing what I love?’ And if you’re

doing what you love, it doesn’t matter what

anyone else tells you.

By the way, if you’re in high school right

now, and you’re reading or listening to me,

please, please, please, enjoy your high school

experience. Just do dual enrollment or PSEO.

I promise you, you’re gonna enjoy it more.


Building community

one story at a time

From book club members to fantasy buffs, the appeal of

Little Free Library is far-reaching.

STORY BY LILA SWEDZINSKI


BY LILA SWEDZINSKI

The first two years that Teresa

Anderson had her Little Free

Library, she kept a 50-page

record of all of the books that

were borrowed. The list came

to 1,993 books.

Anderson’s Little Library, called “Book

Club 101,” was a gift from her daughter. The

box and wooden post are painted red and

blue to match the trim of her house.

While she initially used it to house the

books that her book club had previously read,

her friends in the club started giving her their

books to put out as well. Soon enough, business

was booming.

Anderson lives in the Chicago area,

but Little Free Library is based in St. Paul,

Minnesota, and its mission is worldwide. The

nonprofit is dedicated to increasing book

access and building community. According

to their website, there have been more than

175,000 libraries built in 128 countries and

400 million books have been shared. On

March 11, the organization unveiled their

200,000th Little Library at Benjamin E. Mays

IB World School in St. Paul.

Little Free Library received multiple

awards over the years, including the

Innovations in Reading Prize in 2013 from the

National Book Foundation and the Library of

Congress Literacy Award in 2015.

Whether it’s to honor a loved one or make

space on a bedroom bookshelf, Little Free

Library stewardship offers an outlet for people

looking for a way to make connections and

help out in their community. The mailbox-sized

libraries can hold anything from a carefully

curated book selection to non-perishable food

items for all neighbors to enjoy.

Anderson had no plans of starting a book

club back in 2010. After the club her husband

took part in disbanded, a mutual friend

hounded her for several years to start her

own. Finally, she gave in and gathered five of

her good friends to start, eventually growing

the club to 11 members.

“We’ve lost some people, but we continue

to gain people as a result of the Little Free

Library,” she said.

Anderson recalls standing outside of her

house one day restocking her Little Free

Library when a couple that had recently

moved in next door approached her to introduce

themselves. The woman’s mother

planned to live on the second floor.

“She said [her] mother is an avid reader,”

Anderson said. “I said, ‘You need to tell her

there’s a book club she needs to join.’” That’s

how she recruited their newest member.

The club meets once a month, and the

members alternate hosting a dinner at their

homes for the occasion — oftentimes eating

foods inspired by the book they were discussing

that night. While they read mostly

contemporary fiction books, they try to add

in one nonfiction book every so often. Once a

year, Anderson tries to slip in a book of short

stories for her own reading pleasure. A few

club favorites are “Lonesome Dove” by Larry

McMurtry and “The Heaven & Earth Grocery

Store” by James McBride.

There are many Little Libraries in

Anderson’s eclectic Wicker Park neighborhood

for the community to visit. It didn’t take

long for neighbors to add their own flare to

her book selection.W

“The people from the community have definitely

mixed it up,” she said. “We have a lot of

religious books that get put into the library and

we have cookbooks. You wouldn’t believe how

many cookbooks have gone through the library.”

Anderson attributes the influx of cookbooks

to people turning to recipes online

more often.

According to a 2022 study from the Pew

Research Center, 30% of adults reported they

had read an e-book in the past 12 months.

That is an increase of five percentage points

from their survey conducted in 2019.

However, younger generations continue

to ground themselves in physical media and

get more involved with their communities.

Social media has shed light on new trends

of younger generations showing more interest

in physical media like books, CDs and

vinyl records. According to a 2022 study

out of Portland State University, 54% of the

2,075 Millennials and Gen Z surveyed had

visited a physical library during the previous

12-month period.

Little Free Library gives everyone the opportunity

to make material contributions in

their neighborhood and revive their connection

to physical books and media.

“Here Be Dragons”

Kelsey Binder’s mysterious Little Free

Library in Minneapolis is a safe haven for

books in the fantasy genre. It has a medium

wood finish with images inspired by “The

Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” decorated

on one side, Hogwarts on the other and

an image of the “Lonely Mountain” from

“The Lord of the Rings” on the back. Binder

purchased and put up her library in spring

of 2022 with a previous roommate, and they

wanted the simple illustrations to represent

core, recognizable fantasy books.

The medieval phrase “Here Be Dragons”

is what cartographers used to write on the

edges of maps to represent unexplored areas.

Kelsey Binder’s little library in Minneapolis is

filled with books in the fantasy genre.

PHOTO BY ANGELLINA CHANG


She believes it lends to the idea that fantasy

is “what’s at the edge of the map” — allowing

readers to explore unknown, exciting worlds.

Binder cites her experience as a student at

the University of Minnesota as inspiration for

wanting to put up her own Little Library since

she would often admire them while exploring

on campus and in the city. Another motivator

for her was to have quality books accessible

to people, which she thought some of the libraries

lacked.

“I definitely felt like a lot of them do end

up being just dumping grounds for not-good

books,” Binder said.

Binder finds it best not to let her Little

Library run itself. When she is less attentive,

people leave stickers, masks, magazines

and religious pamphlets. When she is more

involved with curating the selection, Binder

typically only keeps in books that she would

personally recommend to others — leaving

mostly fantasy while sprinkling in a

few classics. Some of her favorite fantasy

books include the “Harry Potter” series by

J.K. Rowling and the “Mistborn” series by

Brandon Sanderson.

“My bookshelf over there is basically even

split classics and fantasy,” Binder said. “I definitely

will go for a good old John Steinbeck

or something like that and be like, ‘I’m gonna

inflict this on all of my neighbors and make

them read that with me.’”

Gifting change

Similarly to Teresa Anderson, retired

nurse and Duluth native Jane Martin received

her Little Free Library as a Christmas

gift from her daughter in 2013. Being a student

at the University of Minnesota at the

time, Martin’s daughter was inspired by the

Little Libraries she saw on campus and in

the city. Martin loved the idea of sharing her

books with the community via Little Library,

especially since she belonged to a book club

at the time.

She is currently a member of two book

clubs, one of which is composed of her retired

work friends from the ICU at Essentia

Health - St. Mary’s Medical Center in Duluth.

In the past, they met once a month to discuss

the one book they were all reading. But for

the last two months, they have been discussing

the separate books they each read and

exchanging them between members as they

please. Her other book club is more structured.

Run through the Nordic Center, the

Jane Martin created her little library in

Duluth, Minnesota. PHOTO BY LILA SWEDZINSKI

From book club

members to

fantasy buffs,

the appeal of

Little Free Library

is far-reaching.

Kelsey Binder. PHOTO BY ANGELLINA CHANG

club meets October through May, and they

primarily read books that have been translated

into English from Nordic languages.

With memberships to three libraries in

Duluth, Martin is no stranger to the appeal

of reading on a budget. On the Little Free

Library mobile app, she stated in her Little

Library description her initial excitement

about sharing books with others and going

thrifting for new books to add.

Little Free Library operates through their

website, but their mobile app is a convenient

way to search for book-sharing boxes nearby.

Users can search by location or name to explore

the interactive map feature and stewards

who have registered their library on the app

can add descriptions for the public to read.

There are also tags that stewards can add

on the app such as “Banned Books,” “Read in

Color Library” and “Impact Library,” which

convey to readers how the box can be used.

Their Impact Library and Indigenous Library

programs are dedicated to improving literacy

rates through granting no-cost Little Free

Libraries to communities in need. The Read

in Color program, created after the murder

of George Floyd in 2020, aims to center multicultural

books with perspectives on racism

and social justice to celebrate and amplify

marginalized voices.

Although arriving at her house completely

assembled, the Little Library still needed to

be installed in her front yard with a base. Jane

enlisted her father to help her put it up, and

they got to work. However, the project was not

without its renovations.

“About three years ago, the top piece got

worn and was leaking, so my dad tore that off

and made a shingled roof so it looks more like

a little house,” Jane said.

When deciding on colors to paint her Little

Library, Jane tapped into her Norwegian heritage

and painted it a rusty, bright red and

a teal blue. For an added flare, she had her

friend, who is an artist, paint designs inspired

by a traditional Norwegian folk art style

called “Rosemaling.” Four years later, another

friend of hers built a bench in the same rusty

red color that sits next to her Little Library

for readers to enjoy in the spring, summer

and fall.

Martin finds joy in dedicating the lowest

shelf to children’s books.

“I can see my Library from my kitchen

window, and it’s really sweet when I see children

sitting there,” Martin said. “Kids have

left things in there [like] little pictures and

things for me, and they’ll say, ‘Thank you for

your Library.’”

For all ages, stewarding, borrowing and

replenishing books makes a tangible contribution

and strengthens the community bond.

One story at a time.


A celebration at the end of the 2021 State Championship game captures the energy of hockey mania. VIDEO CAPTURE, COURTESY HUBBARD BROADCASTING

GENERATIONS IN HOCKEY

The Minnesota High School Hockey Tournament equals sell-out crowds, unparalleled tradition

BY CARTER DOONER

Many students in the Midwest

might anticipate the month of

March for spring break and

the hint of balmy weather after

a long winter. Minnesotans share the excitement,

but often for an entirely different

reason.

The first week in March means the

Minnesota State High School Boys Hockey

Tournament. The Xcel Energy Center in St.

Paul welcomes thousands of fans eager to

see some great hockey and celebrate the accomplishments

of 16 teams across the state.

For some players, it will be the pinnacle of

their hockey career. The year-round grind of

dryland training and captain’s practices all

culminate in the pursuit of a state ribbon. For

others, the tournament is a stepping stone to

college sports, and perhaps one day the pros.

In recent years, the girls’ game has taken

off as well, with the state tournament in

late February breaking attendance records.

Minnesota High School girls hockey now

feeds a college game that is gaining popularity,

and a pro league founded in 2023. While

the pro league fields players from all over the

country, Minnesota accounts for more than

40% of its players. The size of the pipeline

illustrates Minnesota’s unique place in the

hockey world, and the opportunities now

available to its women players.

But it’s the boys’ game that has long been a

Minnesota institution. This year’s state championship

broke the attendance record with

20,941 people on hand to watch Moorhead

defeat Stillwater to capture their first championship

in school history. Earlier that day, East

Grand Forks took down St. Cloud Cathedral

to earn its third-ever championship.

For the Mittelstadt family, the tournament

ice has practically become a second home.

Three brothers, Casey, John and Luke, have a

combined eight state tournament appearances

for hockey powerhouse Eden Prairie High

School.

Luke and John, now on the Gopher hockey

team, recall taking the day off from middle

school to enjoy everything the event had to offer

– all while cheering on their older brother

Casey.

“I remember going down there, skipping

a day of school and hanging out with my

buddies,” said Luke. “My brother played in it

for three years, and just watching those guys;


A record crowd of 20,491 watched the

2025 championship game at Xcel Energy Center.

that’s what makes you fall in love with the

state tournament, it was always a lifelong

dream to play in it.”

The tournament is held Wednesday

through Saturday, with more than 120,000

people making the trip to St. Paul to see at

least one of the games. For those looking to

get annual tickets, get in line: There is an estimated

12-year waitlist to get season tickets.

With championship game single tickets selling

out within minutes, it quickly turns into

one of the hottest tickets in town.

It’s an annual tradition among some to

wait in line at the box office for hours, in the

hopes of just receiving standing-room-only

tickets. In this year’s tournament, the line

spilled into the Kellogg parking ramp outside

the arena.

Teams who make it to the tournament get

first priority with tickets. When Eden Prairie

got to the state tournament in 2021, Luke and

his teammates walked the halls with a little

extra pep in their step.

“We were pretty popular at school that

week,” he said. “Students don’t have to go to

class, everyone gets the day off from school,

there’s no other thing like it.”

When he and the Eagles stepped into the

big rink for the first time, Luke was caught off

guard by how different things were. His home

rink at Eden Prairie Community Center seated

just 1,200 people. It was a bit of a shock

taking the ice for the first time in front of

more than 19,000 fans.

“It’s unreal,” Luke said. “I remember my

first time skating out there and how bright it

was, you’re just like ‘woah, this is happening,

this is real.’”

That Eden Prairie team ran the table in the

2021 tournament, winning its first two matchups

before taking down Lakeville South in the

final. Luke had watched his brother Casey fall

short on the very same sheet of ice, but was

on hand to successfully close that chapter in

the family’s story.

Tied at one apiece in overtime, Luke’s linemate,

Jackson Blake, scored the game-winning

goal to give the Eagles their first state

championship in more than 10 years.

“I had a perfect angle to see it,” Luke said.

“You kind of just black out. Watching that

puck go in, it made everything right for a hot

minute.”

As a Minnesota institution, the tournament

offers iconic traditions players remember,

even before the first puck drops. Haircuts

have become a big deal. Each player is given

the opportunity to skate to the blueline without

their helmet and show off whatever crazy

haircut they have, and say whatever they want

into the camera. Luke’s team went all out, including

bleached-blonde hair and crewcuts.

For current Gopher and former Hill-

Murray forward Axel Begley, things were

much tamer. Begley, who made the state

tournament three times with the Pioneers,

said his coach told the team they should

be focused on the game and keep things

professional.

There were no tiger stripes, mullets or

other styles that could distract them from the

task at hand. After all, Hill-Murray is a private

school with a strict dress code.

In his sophomore season, Begley simply

waved to the camera and shouted out his

mom. When he got to his senior season,

things went a little different.

“I actually shouted out to my buddy’s

landscaping company. Went pretty viral, got

on Spittin’ Chiclets,” Begley said of a popular

weekly podcast that covers ice hockey and

pop culture. “It was everywhere. It was my

last chance to do something special, and it

actually got them some good business.”

It’s little snippets like these that make the

tournament memorable. It’s home to many

unique moments that find their way onto

other platforms, showing it’s more than just

a hockey tournament. It’s fun.

For John Mittelstadt, who has experienced

playing for one of the best college programs

in the country, nothing compares to the tournament

and high school hockey.

“High school hockey is the most fun by

far,” John said. “You get the best experience

with your buddies, and you are playing

against people you have played with your

whole life. I think that’s what makes it better

than everything else.”

Gopher player Axel Begley

made the Minnesota State

high school tournament

three times with the Hill-

Murray Pioneers.

An alumn of a team who

won the Minnesota state

high school championship,

Luke Mittelstadt also plays

for the Gophers. He is one of

a family of highly successful

Minnesota hockey players

that includes his brothers

Casey and John.



Scroll, compare,

repeat: What is

digital dysmorphia?

As social media and the rise of weight-loss drugs

fuel unrealistic beauty standards, people are

battling harmful effects of digital dysmorphia.

(Content warning: Mention of eating disorders and body

image in this article may be triggering some for readers. )

BY ELLIE TULKKI

Remember the body positivity movement?

After years of it being fashionable to challenge

unrealistic beauty standards displayed

on social media, “skinny” is back with a vengeance.

Once again, every interaction with your phone

risks reinforcing the message that the thinner you are,

the better you are.

“Every time you pick up your phone, there is a reason

to feel bad about yourself,” says Jillian Lampert, Vice

President of Communications at the Emily Program,

an organization that offers eating disorder treatment,

awareness and recovery.

In the digital age, curated and altered images blur the

line between reality and illusion, introducing a modern

phenomenon with a new and disturbing name: Digital

Dysmorphia. Constant exposure to internet images

makes it easy to obsess over perceived physical flaws.

The surge in the availability of weight-loss drugs

like Ozempic has encouraged unrealistic beauty standards

and quick weight-loss solutions that pressure

individuals to conform to a certain body shape and size.

A study done by the National Library of Medicine

earlier this year found there was a strong association

between social media usage and body dysmorphia

symptoms.

Thirty-three years ago, Lampert embarked on her

own personal recovery journey, confronting a silent

battle with an eating disorder. Today, Lampert is a passionate

advocate for those like her as a board member

of the Eating Disorders Coalition. She also teaches a

course on managing eating disorders at the University

of Minnesota.

CONTINUED →

Social media filters can creating unrealistic beauty

standards that foster insecurity and self-comparison.


When Lampert was struggling with her eating

disorder decades ago, she said people

used to look up to celebrities and movie

stars they saw in monthly magazines and

print publications. Times have changed.

“You used to look at a magazine and have

to wait at least a month to get new images,

so there was a more static image of body

perceptions. Now, social media has picked up

steam, and people get a new magazine every

second,” said Lampert. “It’s overwhelming.”

The shift in how individuals perceive images

on the internet is what introduced the

idea of digital dysmorphia.

Palgrave Communications, a peer-reviewed

journal known for its focus on social

sciences and public health, defines digital

dysmorphia as “excessively preoccupied with

perceived flaws in your appearance due to

frequent exposure to digitally altered images

on social media. That can lead to increased

dissatisfaction with your physical self and

sometimes even the decision to seek cosmetic

procedures matching their digitally

modified image.”

“There is a subtle idea that you might

not have to look like the influencer, but you

are now obligated to be a better you,” said

Lampert.

Avari Hanson, a student at the University

of Minnesota, knows this feeling all too well.

Hanson began struggling with an eating

disorder when she was 15 years old at the

height of the COVID-19 pandemic.

“During COVID-19, I became obsessed

with trends, losing weight and looking at myself

become skinnier every day,” said Hanson.

“It was like I saw everyone doing the Chloe

Ting workouts, so I thought I had to do them

too.”

Chloe Ting is a fitness influencer renowned

for her viral two-week shred challenge,

which gained widespread popularity in

2021 and is said to deliver quick weight-loss

results.

The impact of social media is a big reason

why Hanson feels it’s so important to raise

awareness, which she does by advocating

for eating disorder recovery and support. “I

have coping strategies, and I have recovered

significantly, but social media is a constant

reminder of how easy it is to fall back into old

habits,” said Hanson.

Lampert, along with other experts, is

increasingly concerned about how prone

younger generations are to developing eating

disorders.

“Think about it like a Venn diagram; one

bubble is how receptible you are to eating disorders,

and one bubble is the environment of

social media. Then there is this third bubble

that is psychological, such as how sensitive

we are to external pressure. Some of it’s genetic

and some of it’s social,” Lampert said.

The shift back to diet culture, fitness

trends and using weight-loss drugs to be

“skinny” is once again fueling the internet.

“We are seeing less body positivity. Now

we have weight-loss drugs, and there is an

outcry from body positivity influencers

because ‘why wouldn’t we lose weight if we

can,’” said Lampert.

Body positivity influencers are still trying

to push back, challenging these unrealistic

ideals.

“The reason I started making content

was to normalize a ‘normal’ body,” said Grace

Louise, a social media influencer known for

advocating body positivity and self-love. “All

I ever saw was thin women, and they were

celebrated, whereas curvier women would

get scrutinized. My philosophy is that every

body is a perfect body. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

According to the Pew Research Center,

weight-loss drugs like Ozempic, Rybelsus

and Wegovy have soared in sales by 89%

more since 2022.

“Now everyone can weigh less, which

sends a message that everyone should weigh

less,” Lampert said. “Why aren’t you using

these magic medicines when you could and

maybe should?”

Social media and celebrities have glorified

these weight-loss drugs, leaving a powerful

digital footprint. “There are going to be even

more people with voices in their heads telling

them they need to lose weight,” Lampert said.

In reality, the content they are consuming

is often far from realistic.

“It’s so toxic because these girls who have

genetically ‘ideal’ bodies will go on social media

to post workout routines and what they

The shift in how individuals perceive images

on the internet is what introduced the idea

of digital dysmorphia.


“The data is clear that viewing

social media is bad for us.’ ”

— JILLIAN LAMPERT

did to look like that, but it’s filters or genetics,”

said Hanson.

And that is exactly what’s happening.

“The data is clear that viewing social media

is bad for us,” Lampert said. “We used to

know that everything was photoshopped,

people were wearing makeup, lighting was

just specific, etc. But now, with social media

advancements, we don’t know that as much.

It’s harder to remember those images aren’t

necessarily real.”

It all takes a serious mental health toll.

Louise began dealing with her body issues

at a very young age. “I was always told I was

too thin, and then when I gained weight, I

wasn’t thin enough. It took such a toll on my

mental health,” said Louise.

Is the best way to fight these effects of

social media with social media itself? Louise

seems to think so.

“I remember getting one comment on a

video that said something like, “We have the

same body, and you made me love mine,” and

it was then that I realized how powerful social

media can be,” Louise said.

Louise is most active on TikTok, where her

most recent video, gaining over 10,000 views,

offers a powerful reminder: “Our bodies are

the least interesting thing about us, and you

deserve good food!”

The constant pull of social media is designed

to keep us engaged, often amplifying

our insecurities and reinforcing unhealthy

comparisons.

The Emily Program, an organization that

offers eating disorder treatment, awareness,

and recovery, teaches those struggling with

social media usage ways to circumvent it.

“The more exposure you have to something

that tells you who you ‘need’ to be is impactful

on someone. We need to find a balance,”

said Lampert. “If we don’t put our phones

down, we will be sucked into the algorithms

all night.”

It’s not just about putting a name on the

problem, it’s about offering practical solutions

that empower people to take control

of their mental health, their relationship

with their bodies and their social media

consumption.

“Your body allows you to do so many

things each day, so rather than focusing on

what it isn’t, try thanking it for what it is,”

said Louise.

If you or someone you know is struggling,

please reach out for help. The National Eating

Disorders Association (NEDA) offers confidential

support and resources to those affected.

You can contact their helpline at 1-800-931-

2237 or visit www.nationaleatingdisorders.

org for more information. Remember, you are

not alone, and help is available.


Generative AI:

A curse or a tool

for the future?

Students at the U

express their concerns

and excitement about the

BY SOPHIA ARNDT

At the beginning of her final semester at

the University of Minnesota, Malia Bronson

found herself stumped by an assignment in

her intermediate painting class.

Her search for a solution led her

straight into a controversy roiling

the art community about the very

nature of art.

Bronson, a fourth-year student

studying architecture, and her

classmates were asked by their

professor to make abstract self-portraits.

The trouble is, Bronson

doesn't do abstract. A devout

Christian from rural Iowa, she calls

herself an open book.

“It was hard for me to imagine

abstracting something like that,

and being myself,” Bronson said. “I

was lost on where to start with that.”

Bronson's long search for inspiration

started in the countryside

where she grew up and landed in

growing prevalence of

generative AI in the

art communities.

the world of artificial intelligence.

“I remember going to my grandma’s house

back home when I was younger, and she had

this painting of this woman in a lavender field

in her bathroom,” Bronson said.

“This woman’s face was just placed

in it, but it looked so natural. I've

never seen other images like that.”

Bronson could not find the

original artist nor the elusive

painting from her childhood to

reference while working. She was

back at square one when she started

to search Google for another

jolt of inspiration.

“I clicked on this link, it was an

AI website,” Bronson said.

The website specializes in

generating images of portraits of

nature with prompting from its users.

Bronson entered a photo into

the website with her specific idea

of a face built into a landscape,

picked from the choices of generated

images, and got to work on

Student Malia Bronson used an AI website

for inspiration on this abstract portrait for a

class project. PHOTO BY SOPHIA ARNDT

36 / INFLUX MAGAZINE

her painting.

Initially, Bronson planned to represent

her faith by painting her interpretation of the

Holy Spirit as a dove nesting in an overgrown

heart. However, after talking with her professor,

Bronson decided to pursue a version of

the portrait generated by the AI website.

“It was personal, but it wasn’t representative

of me. It was representative of anybody

who believes in that sort of thing,” Bronson

said.

Her professor supported the idea of using

the reference image produced by the website

but cautioned Bronson against falling into

the rabbit hole of generative AI art.

“She’s really pushing me, like ‘Don’t

straight up copy this, don’t plagiarize. That’s

not your original idea,’” Bronson said. “What

I’m doing is kind of blending a lot of those

ideas while still working off of it.”

Opening Feb. 20, the 258-year-old auction

house Christie’s announced their new exhibit

“Augmented Intelligence,” which featured

generated paintings, prints and other art

pieces. The theme was met with vitriol, as

thousands of artists signed a petition calling

for its cancellation.

The petition reached over 6,000 signatures,

as artists argued that the AI models

pulled on thousands of art pieces without

giving credit. These data sets likely include

copyrighted images, strengthening their

complaints of plagiarism.

Painting is not the only medium that has

seen an invasion of generative AI.

University sophomore Ashley Heilman is

an avid concertgoer and artist. Her main medium

is poetry. As both a fan and a creative,

Heilman has seen the impact of generative

art across the artistic landscape, like AIgenerated

songs or “original” poems.

“I think the biggest thing is that everything

AI takes pieces of goes uncredited, especially

in the artwork with any form or medium,”

Heilman said. “Giving credit to the artist is a

big piece of [art] and AI doesn’t do that.”

Bronson faced pushback when she presented

her art piece for class critique. Some

classmates felt the generative elements lessened

the creativity and could even be considered

plagiarism.

Plagiarism in art is not a new concept,

permeating the field as long as people have

had paint on their hands. AI generative art

presents a new issue, however, as artists can

generate a piece without even picking up a

paintbrush.

One classmate asked her how it could be

considered “art” if the idea had been generated

by an AI program.

Others supported her using it as a tool and

argued it had been a jumping-off point rather

than a complete replica. The piece ended

with a completely different vision than the

originally generated piece, including a different

landscape and color scheme that reflected

her memories of the Iowa countryside.

Either way, Bronson said it was essential

to be upfront about how she used generative

AI and that it will never replace an artist's

true touch. She agreed it presented a risk, but

said artists should not be afraid to use it as a

tool in the future.

Bronson is on track to graduate this

spring with minors in interior design and

fine art, in addition to her architecture major.

Generative AI serves as a tool, she says, but

it will never replace the personal connection

she has to every piece she works on.

“Part of being a true artist is imagination

and personal talent, that personal touch,”

Bronson said. “I would feel so wrong if I didn’t

include any of that in the work that I did.”

When Malia Bronson, above,

decided to use generative

AI for her project, her professor

supported the idea of

using the reference image

produced by the website

but cautioned her against

falling into the rabbit hole of

generative AI art.

PHOTO BY SOPHIA ARNDT


Rhythms of heritage:

Oromo youth revive cultural dance

From a small student-led effort to a growing tradition, the University of Minnesota’s

Oromo Student Union dance team is keeping its culture alive through dance.

BY FAAYA ADEM

Every year, the University of

Minnesota’s Oromo Student Union

(OSU) hosts an Oromo Night. The

event showcases Oromo culture

through dances, skits, and a fashion show.

The dancers are not professionals.

Instead, OSU has built a student dance team

over the years. High school and college students

from across the Twin Cities come to the

university for weekly practices throughout

the school year.

The dance team has grown to more than

50 dancers in the past few years, but it hasn’t

always been like this. It wasn’t until the past

two years that the team has grown massively.

As the Oromo youth in Minnesota become

of high school and university age, many have

taken an interest in learning more about their

cultural dances, dramatically increasing the

number of participants. The number of dancers

has nearly tripled since OSU’s Oromo

Night in 2023.

The increase in dancers has made many

parents, past dancers and choreographers

proud and excited to see Oromo youth embrace

and honor their culture.

“I am beyond proud of the interest in the

youth wanting to learn,” said Hennaa Foge, a

Univeristy of Minnesota student and co-choreographer

for OSU’s dance team. “They are

always eager to learn and their hunger to

learn is something that I enjoy seeing more

than anything.”

Oromo people originate from the Oromia

region of Ethiopia. Oromos fled Ethiopia in

the 1980s due to war, famine and government

persecution. There are more than 40,000

Oromos in Minnesota.

OSU performs 12 Oromo dances from all

over the region. Some dances, like Tirri and

Shaggoyyee, require women dancers to intricately

sway and shake their heads to a beat,

while dances like Wollo and Jimma require

intense shoulder movements.

Every dance requires months of work to

execute perfectly. Since women and men

Callee are

beads used for

costumes in

ceremonial

Oromo dance.



don’t always do the same movements, many

dances are taught in pieces before being

combined together.

Each region also has its own cultural

clothes that are worn for the show. The women

mainly wear colorful clothes, such as the

“shishibo” dress and the “wandaabo” top and

skirt. The men wear white tops, pants or toga-like

white bottoms called “woya.”

For years, OSU struggled to find enough

clothes from each region. Students would

bring in whatever they had, and even then,

many would wear clothes from different

regions.

“Choreographers have gotten crafty,” said

Foge. “With creativity and a decent budget,

we have been able to grow our collection of

addaa [cultural clothes] and how we show our

dance.”

After endless practices and dress rehearsals,

the culture night is held in the spring.

Scheduling the night is another task. OSU

must work around major religious events like

Ramadan and Easter, and still leave enough

time for the show to come together.

The work is never over, even after the

show is held. All of the music for the show is

mixed and then choreographed by university-aged

students. They spend hours over the

summer break working on each dance.

“I love working on the mix, I have a love

for Oromo and it has helped me learn and

understand so much better,” said Foge.

The choreographers and dancers don’t

mind the work, though. They’re proud to

showcase their culture, even if it requires

hours of strenuous practice.

“Being a part of a community has shaped

me into who I am. I have a profound love for

my culture, dance, history, and my community,”

said Foge. “I only want to spread knowledge

about Oromo people, and culture.”

Worn by Oromo women, a

Qarma is a beaded headpiece

worn as a symbol of

beauty and cultural identity.



Alotta Shots but o

Joshua Bilskemper spends weekdays

as a property manager for college

housing. On the weekends, he’s in full

drag, performing under the stage name

Alotta Shots.

BY SOFIA ESPARZA

After eight hours of Zoom meetings,

coordinating resident visits and

troubleshooting the winter ritual

of bursting water pipes, Joshua

Bilskemper clocks out of his last shift of the

week as a property manager in student housing.

He speeds home through 20 minutes of

rush hour traffic to take a nap and get a bite

to eat.

Then he puts on a wig, glues his eyebrows

down underneath makeup and throws on a

brightly-colored dress.

He heads to the Gay 90s nightclub in

downtown Minneapolis, walks up two flights

of red-carpeted stairs to the LaFemme

Lounge, and walks backstage to a bubblegum

pink dressing room.

Along the left wall hang dozens of intricate

costumes bejeweled with gems and sequins.

The closet is thick with ruffled sleeves and

colorful dresses and the back of the dressing

room door is adorned with costume jewelry

in every color imaginable. At the center of

the room, a studio mirror sits complemented

with plaques from competitions and lit by

white LED light bulbs that are ideal for doing

makeup.

It’s a room fit for a queen. A drag queen.

Bilskemper’s weekends are for hosting

and performing under the stage name Alotta

Shots with the Ladies of LaFemme, traveling

for shows, and pulling in cash tips on stage.

But he knows other lives, first as a middle

school science teacher and now as a property

manager at the Pavilion on Berry apartments

in St. Paul since 2024.

Bilskemper, 33, started drag in 2016. For

years, his friends tried convincing him to

perform drag because of his fun personality,

but it was the tragedy of the Pulse nightclub

shooting in Orlando, Florida, that finally

pushed him to do it.

Joshua Bilskemper gets

ready to host amateur night

at The Gay ‘90s in downtown

Minneapolis as Alotta Shots

on Feb. 19, 2025.



one at life


Alotta Shots looks into the mirror glancing at their almost complete look. PHOTO BY RYANN FROLIK

Bilskemper was on a nearly two monthlong

road trip around the southern United

States when 49 people were killed and 53

injured at the gay nightclub in Florida. It was

the second-worst mass shooting in U.S. history.

While he was visiting Savannah, Georgia,

he stopped by a local fundraiser put together

by the LGBT+ community in response to the

tragedy.

“There were drag entertainers there, leading

the way and they kind of inspired me,” he

said. “This is entertainment, but also these

people can be leaders with the community

and that was something really exciting for

me.”

Once he was back home in La Crosse,

Wisconsin, he entered the 2016 La Crosse

Pride drag competition. He didn’t even have

a stage name yet, but he won.

And the next morning, his job teaching

seventh grade science awaited him. As his

Alotta Shots dips into a vibrant palette.


life as a drag queen started to take shape,

he realized that it probably was taboo for a

small-town teacher. But what finally drove

him out of the classroom had more to do with

his view on education.

Bilskemper said he defines himself as

the teacher who always had animals in the

classroom. He brought in turtles, bunnies and

snakes. He recalled a time when he brought

baby bunnies, two of which went missing by

the start of the first period. He spent the class

period panicking, just to have some of his students

approach him at the end of class and

pull out the bunnies from their pants pockets.

“I told them to never do that again. I was

one of the few teachers who actually tried to

hold kids accountable and help them learn

life lessons in the present,” he said. “I just felt

like I was the only one that seemed to care,

and I can only do so much.”

Bilskemper needed a change from


By day, Joshua Bilskemper is a property manager at The Pavillion on Berry in St. Paul. PHOTO BY RYANN FROLIK

the small classrooms in Grand Meadow,

Minnesota, where he started his teaching

career, and got a job teaching middle school

science in White Bear Lake in 2018, the same

year he moved to Minneapolis.

His seventh graders knew about his career

in drag and often brought it up to him that

they looked up his drag Instagram account.

“I’d always tell them, ‘And what about it?’”

In teaching, you have to entertain and

interact with all types of personalities and

there’s a level of performance, according to

Bilskemper. “If I can entertain 30 eighth-graders,

I can entertain a bunch of drunk adults.”

Bilskemper was in drag for two years,

competing in weeknight shows, getting small

bookings here and there and trying to get his

name out there, until he got his first consistent

job in drag.

He said he was far from polished when the

Gay 90s’ show director reached out to him

Tools of the trade require organization.


and asked him to host the Wednesday night

amateur drag competition, So You Think You

Can Drag.

That gave him a chance to work with the

full-time cast of Ladies of LaFemme, the

longest-standing drag show in the Midwest.

After a year and a half of occasional bookings

with the cast and major changes in staffing,

he was asked to be a part of the full-time cast.

Three years later, he found that he needed

a bigger change than transferring school districts.

After nine years in education, he finally

resigned from White Bear Lake two weeks

before the start of the 2023-2024 school year.

In his view, the school administration cared

more about students enjoying their time than

being reprimanded.

A week before he quit teaching, he was

hosting So You Think You Can Drag. He told

the crowd that he was desperate for a new job.

“I was doing everything to just get out of



“Don’t allow

others to dictate

how your path in

life should be.”

— JOSHUA BILSKEMPER

teaching because that was so miserable and

I hated my life,” he said. “So I was like, is anyone

hiring?”

Sure enough, Jess Smith, regional

manager of Stadium Village Flats near the

University of Minnesota campus, was looking

for a new assistant manager. Josh had previously

worked as an RA in college and felt up

for the challenge.

“I got a napkin and I wrote down my name,

number and email and I was just like, here

you go, message me, let’s do something.”

He interviewed and before he knew he

got the job, he quit teaching. For 24 hours, he

thought he was jobless. He was offered the

job in student housing two days later.

In November 2024, he was promoted to

property manager at another apartment

complex within the company. He now spends

Monday through Friday doing property

walks, speaking with residents and planning

outreach events.

His day job has its rewards: He has a

steady paycheck, it’s less physically demanding

and more likely to see promotions. Drag

has become a way to express himself outside

the corporate landscape.

“I’m passionate about drag because it

gives me an outlet to be creative and to let

loose. The more you are a part of it, the more

you realize what it can be,” he said. “Whether

it’s being a community leader helping to raise

money for organizations, providing people

an outlet to get away from their crazy and

hectic lives or just laughing and enjoying

community.”

“You’ve got one shot at this thing called

life. It’s important to make the best of it.”

His weekends consist of late-night drag

shows in the Lafemme Lounge and trips

to Fargo, North Dakota, for performances,

where he can make up to $2000 a night.

Doing drag is hard on the body. Performers

wear heavy costumes, high heels, and thick

makeup underneath bright stage lights for

hours at a time. Like many entertainment

professions, it is also difficult to maintain a

livable wage, Bilskemper said. The five-hour

drag shifts he does Thursday through Sunday

are in effect another full-time job.

Alotta Shots entertains a crowd

at amateur night.



The “SEEN” exhibit at

the Weisman Art Museum

features elements

designed to allow a visitor

to experience a life of

incarceration. The show is

on view through May 18,

2025. PHOTO BY LILIAN NGUYEN

BY LILIAN NGUYEN

What does it mean to be seen? Not

just as an idea, but as a body?

When you think about incarceration,

you might think of

confinement that would isolate you and limit

you to restricted, routine movements.

But incarceration leaves a lasting impression

on a person’s identity as well.

The Weisman Art Museum’s latest exhibition,

SEEN, brings the physical reality of

incarceration to life, using art to explore how

it shapes identity and the struggle to reclaim

one’s presence.

Emily Baxter curated the exhibit. She is the

director and founder of We Are All Criminals,

(WAAC), a non-profit organization dedicated

to challenging society’s perceptions of what

it means to be a criminal.

The artwork on display was created by

inmates working with artists, activists and academics

from around the Twin Cities. One gallery

brings the harsh realities of incarceration


Isolation:

physical place,

body, and mind

Weisman exhibit explores what it means to

be incarcerated

to life through showcasing the emptiness of

a physical cage. As well as telephones on the

wall, being able to hear real messages sent to

those incarcerated. Art displayed in the second

gallery focuses on reality outside of the

bars, when newly released inmates attempt to

go back to their lives. Featuring a garden that

invites viewers to reflect.

The works displayed in SEEN are interactive.

The installations are designed to

provoke emotion and bring attention to often-unnoticed

realities.

One exhibit, Cage(d), allows visitors to

experience the physical reality of a prison

cell’s limited space and isolation. Standing

within the confines of the cell gives a visceral

understanding of what it means to be trapped

within the system. The work is a collaboration

between incarcerated artist Sarith Peou and

Carl Flink, the artistic director of the dance

company Black Label Movement.

This sense of confinement extends beyond

the physical place, into the body and mind. For

Peou, daily exercise is a way to cope. At regular

intervals during the run of the exhibit, Black

Label Movement dancer Cheng Xiong brings

these movements to life, reenacting Peou’s exercise

routine within the artwork in the gallery.

Ultimately, SEEN is a space where art and

the harsh realities of the incarcerated experience

intersect; from both inside and outside

the cell. The exhibit challenges us to reconsider

what it means to be seen, both within and

beyond the walls of incarceration.


The power of pets

The university’s Pet Away Stress and Anxiety program helps students and volunteers

BY KINSEY GADE

When Apollo comes to meet his

admirers at the University of

Minnesota, he styles a maroon

bandana tied around his neck

with the words “Gopher Dog” emblazoned in

big gold letters.

The 7-year-old, 13-pound Maltese Shih Tzu

mix sits patiently on a matching University of

Minnesota blanket on the floor by his owner,

Megan Schoenbauer. They wait for students

who come by to pet and scratch his curly gray

and black fur. At the university’s Pet Away

Stress and Anxiety (PAWS) program, roughly

five teams of dogs, bunnies, cats, guinea pigs

and chickens are stationed around the Health

Sciences Education Building’s seventh-floor

student lounge. The absence of barking, meowing

or clucking creates a calm scene for students

to walk around, pet the therapy animals

and start conversations with the handlers

about their chaotic school schedule, beloved

family pets and whatever else comes up.

Alexandra DeYoe, a third-year journalism

student, said the program is a great resource

for students who want to interact with

Apollo, a Maltese Shih Tzu mix,

is registered as an emotional

support dog. PHOTO BY RYANN FROLIK


different types of animals, such as chickens

and rabbits and their handlers.

“I live with two dogs at home, so I am always

around them, but it’s nice to take a few

minutes and pay attention to them or any animal

and focus on them rather than yourself,”

DeYoe said.

Animal teams in the PAWS program, like

Schoenbauer and Apollo, allow students

to destress from their hectic university

lives by interacting with therapy animals.

Schoenbauer, 22, a graduate of the university

nursing program, knows the emotional and

physical effects of the college experience

only too well.

Summer of 2020, before her first semester,

Schoenbauer worked in the COVID wing

of a small nursing home. Schoenbauer said

she experienced a lot of death from patients

she worked with, and Apollo was one of the

only things that grounded her.

“When we were in peak COVID, there was

someone dying every week,” Schoenbauer

said. “I remember there was one day when two

people died in the unit, and that was tough.”

Due to university COVID-19 restrictions,

Schoenbauer’s freshman-year classes were

mainly online, and much of her time was

spent in solitude. She wrestled with her mental

health and decided to register Apollo as an

emotional support animal to come and live in

her dorm for the spring semester.

Schoenbauer said Apollo helped her have

a more structured and productive dorm life.

“I had a really hard time getting out of

my dorm,” Schoenbauer said. “I knew if I had

Apollo, he would make me go outside and

make me go for walks. I would eat more because

I would be feeding him and remember

to feed myself.”

Although Schoenbauer had Apollo, she

was also an avid attendee of the PAWS program

and looked forward to interacting with

other animals and people during her breaks

between classes.

Schoenbauer works at Fairview Hospital

now, but she hasn’t forgotten what it was like.

She knew Apollo would be a great addition

to the PAWS program, so she worked at obedience

training until the pair was certified

as a therapy dog team with Pet Partners.

Schoenbauer said that PAWS has been an important

routine for her and Apollo, giving them

a chance to socialize and help other students.

“It’s fun to see people light up when they

are petting him and chatting,” Schoenbauer

said. “He gets very excited when we pull into

the parking garage because then he knows

why we are there.”

Attending PAWS events has become a regular routine for Schoenbauer and Apollo. The dog

gets excited to socialize with the students. PHOTO BY RYANN FROLIK

“He gets very excited when we pull

into the parking garage because

then he knows why we are there.”

— MEGAN SCHOENBAUER, about her dog Apollo

Benefits of furry friends

According to UCLA Health, petting an

animal triggers an automatic relaxation response,

which is stimulated by mood-elevating

hormones like serotonin, prolactin and

oxytocin. Human-animal interactions provide

comfort, minimize loneliness, increase mental

stimulation and reduce stress and anxiety.

Tanya Bailey, coordinator and director

of the Animal-Assisted Interactions (AAI)

Program and the PAWS program researched

the role animals played in college students’

mental health while earning her doctoral degree

in social work. One of her dissertation’s

biggest takeaways is the lack of knowledge

regarding college students’ mental health.

“The needs of college students within this

frame of 18 to 24 are really unique,” Bailey

said. “One of the unique things is that if

someone is going to develop mental illness

disorders, 75% of the time it’s going to happen

before they are 24.”

According to Bailey, universities and higher

education institutions started implementing

animal-assisted interactive programs in

the early 2000s.

In a 2017 survey of more than 150

institutions, 62% had an animal-AAI program,

according to Animal-assisted Stress

Reduction Programs in Higher Education.

CONTINUED →


“I don’t do circuses.

The animals are

my colleagues.

They are not

my tools.”

— TANYA BAILEY,

director of the PAWS

program

Bailey holds one of several therapy

chickens available for students to visit

to help with stress. Dogs, bunnies, cats,

guinea pigs and chickens are stationed

around the Health Sciences Education

Building’s seventh-floor student lounge.



However, Bailey said that while conducting

research for her dissertation, she found

that many university animal programs lacked

human-animal team certification.

“The animal program had to have certain

parameters in place, and one of those is thatthe

animals and handlers had to go through very

specific training and evaluation,” Bailey said.

PAWS in the puppy phase

Bailey was initially recruited to help start

an animal-based experience to help students

with their stress and anxiety and advocate for

mental health needs on the UMN campus.

The first iteration was Circus De-Stress,

which was brought to Coffman Memorial

Union to help students destress and learn

about the mental health resources on campus,

according to the UMN website. The

event consisted of a 30-minute circus display

with aerialists, high-wire walkers, jugglers

and clowns. It included booths with information

and resources about mental health

on campus and therapy animals brought by

Bailey for students to pet.

After three events, Bailey moved her animals

away from the circus to a calmer environment

more suitable for directly serving

students’ stress, anxiety and overall mental

health.

“I don’t do circuses,” Bailey said. “The

animals are my colleagues. They are not my

tools.”

The PAWS program, which began as a

once-a-week event at Boynton Health in

November 2013, requires animal and handler

teams to register with national organizations

specializing in therapy animals. After five

years, PAWS exceeded 11,000 student visits

and gradually expanded to four sessions a

week across all three UMN campuses: East

Bank, West Bank and Saint Paul.

During the COVID pandemic, the PAWS

program was cleared for five-minute appointments

with single students. In the spring

semester, it was permitted to hold ten-minute

meetings with students, which Bailey said

was a huge benefit for their well-being.

“Ten minutes felt like quality time compared

to five minutes,” Bailey said.

Bailey said students told her that the

PAWS program kept them from dropping

out or harming themselves because of the

enforced isolation during the pandemic.

A director’s pedigree

Bailey grew up with two beagles and a

rabbit, which cultivated her appreciation and

concern for animals. Her pets provided comfort

and attachment during every hardship of

her early life.

“I feel that connection and belonging are

almost more important than food, clothing

and shelter,” Bailey said.

As a licensed social worker, Bailey

drove children to the Washington County

Courthouse, many of whom faced child removal

or placement. Torie, Bailey’s border

collie, sat calmly in the back seat of her van.

Petting Torie provided comfort to the children

in a way Bailey could not. Now, Bailey

attends almost every PAWS session, sitting at

a table with one of her three Silkie chickens,

University of Minnesota graduate,

Megan Schoenbauer is a former

PAWS attendee. She brings her

dog Apollo to PAWS events to

help other students.


which are all registered with Intermountain

Therapy Animals: Hennifer, Henley and Atilla

the Hen (Tilly). During the PAWS session, the

chicken of the day sits obediently in a basket

while Bailey talks and instructs students on

how to pet.

The PAWS program now has more than

100 registered human-animal teams and is

still growing. Bailey said that the longevity,

legacy and integrity of PAWS are very important

to her, and she plans to continue directing

it until her retirement.

“I am not going anywhere anytime soon,”

Bailey said. “Now that I have my Ph.D., I feel

indebted to this field to help continue to

provide evidence of its effectiveness, most

specifically for college students. That’s my

jam right there.”


Urban exploration in

the Twin Cities reveals

both hidden danger

and beauty, tucked

away in abandoned

and restricted places.

An urban explorer who goes by

the name of Nested, overlooks

Minneapolis from the top of the

Gold Medal Flour building.

PHOTO COURTESY OF NESTED


LISTEN TO THE PODCAST

“Hazards

exist for

people that

are then

trying to

rescue the

explorers.”

— TYLER LUPKES,

Battalion Chief at

Hennepin EMS

An abandoned hospital

intersection, frozen in time

beneath a cracked skylight.

PHOTO COURTESY OF KING.EXPLORES.

BY SPENCER TOLKINEN AND KAYLIE SIROVY

Urbex Explorers in the Twin Cities make up a

largely hidden community drawn to the thrill of

finding beauty in the structures we leave in the

past, sealed off from the world. Many explorers

look for what’s unique in locations that to most people are

little more than eyesores.

However, urbexing comes with risks. Trespassing

plays a huge role in the experience, but these unseen

dangers can go beyond the legal consequences. Unsteady

structures, sudden falls and unseen hazards can turn a

fun adventure into a nightmare for explorers as well as

first responders.

Urban Exploration can be thrilling, but explorers

often underestimate the dangers of falls and injuries.

First responders warn that what seems like a thrilling

continued →

Firefighter Scott Crawford

dangles from the Stone

Arch Bridge during rescue

training in 2021.

PHOTO COURTESY OF TYLER LUPKES


adventure can quickly turn into a life-threatening situation for the

explorer and a source of trauma for loved ones.

Urban Exploration means poking around in abandoned and

restricted areas, and most of the time it’s going to include trespassing.

From deserted factories to decaying asylums, Urbexers thrill

at finding the beauty in the history of these places left to crumble.

“Nobody is using this property for anything,

and it’s just sitting there, rotting away.”

— KALLEE, Urbexer

The Minneapolis Light Rail tracks intersect, guiding trains through tunnels beneath the city. PHOTO COURTESY OF KING.EXPLORES


Crafting with

imperfect hands

STORY & ILLUSTRATIONS BY JASMINE GUTZ

Pottery is a journey of transformation through

touch. It’s about embracing imperfection

and creating something that tells a unique

story. The creative process is the focus

— each curve and texture reflects the craftsmanship

and individuality of the artist. From

the Earth itself to the canvas board, turning a

simple block of clay into a meaningful piece is

an act of connection. With its malleable nature,

clay responds to the creator’s touch, evolving with

every movement and decision.

To begin a pottery project, the clay needs to be prepped. On

a canvas board, knead the clay to work out any air bubbles. Then, the

fun begins — you can create anything you desire. As you pinch and pull,

the clay takes on new forms. Your hands guide the process, either tearing the

clay apart or building it up. A bit of water mixed with clay forms a paste called slip,

which helps bond the pieces together. Before attaching two pieces, gently score

both surfaces with a tool to create texture, allowing the slip to grip and hold them

securely. As you work, the clay will gradually dry and may crack or form wrinkles.

A damp sponge can help smooth things over. When the shape is right, allow it

to dry before carving any details.

Once your piece is bone-dry, it’s ready for firing. Imperfections are inevitable

— clay can shrink, crack or even explode in the kiln. Moisture is usually

the main cause of explosions, so make sure the clay is fully dry before

firing. If you’re working with hollow forms, remember to create a hole or

vent to allow steam to escape. Air bubbles in the clay can also serve as

weak points. Sometimes, it’s necessary to start over at any point in the

process, and that’s okay. It’s important to embrace these mistakes as

opportunities to learn and grow. Don’t be afraid to smush a project

and try again.

Pottery is about the journey of creation. It’s a timeless art that

blends function, creativity and imperfection. While this focuses

on kiln-fired pottery, the same principles apply to air-dried or

oven-baked clay. The true hidden beauty of clay lies in the fact

that there is a history behind each piece of pottery. While

fingerprints may have been cleared from the surface, every

design choice tells the story of the hands that shaped it.


Dancers tossing plastic

during a performance in

Minneapolis, Minn. on Feb.

27, 2025. PHOTO BY MARGARET POULOS


The choreographer’s mind

Brenna Mosser blends her passions

for dance and the environment

to create engaging and thoughtprovoking

choreography.

BY ABY GERVAIS

In preparation for a performance she

likes to describe as “Nightmare Escape

on Plastic Island,” Brenna Mosser tightens

the hammocks filled with single-use

plastic, which hang over the stage, waiting to

be dropped mid-performance.

Mosser looks nervous as she sets up fans

on the left side of the stage, putting her hand

on her chin as she checks to see how they

are positioned. Her dancers, however, are in

a circle warming up with inviting smiles on

their faces.

For three months, Mosser collected single-use

plastic from friends, family, neighbors

and plastic drives. During the performance,

Target bags, bubble wrap and even a Dum-

Dums sucker bag engulf the dancers as they

are shaken out of the hammocks.

The stage’s wood floor is barely recognizable

because of the array of colors. The red

of the Target logo stands out in the crowd of

plastic, allowing the scene to be familiar to

those watching. There are moments during

the performance where the dancers are almost

completely concealed.

Mosser, 33, is a dance artist based in

Minneapolis and the mastermind behind the

piece. Born and raised in Rochester, Mosser

found her way to the Twin Cities dance scene

in 2018. Beyond dance, she dedicates her

time to the French Cultural Center, Alliance

Française, as a bookkeeper.

In more recent choreographic work,

Mosser explained her way of thinking about

choreography and how to go about it.

“Dance is something you can say without

words,” she said.

While creating the initial movement for

her new ideas, she starts with what she describes

as the “fuzzy cotton ball idea” of what

she wants to do. But it takes quite a while to

chip away and ultimately fine-tune it into

something digestible for an audience.

While her passion for dance shines

through, Mosser’s love of the environment

fights for the spotlight as well. She was inspired

by her time in dance as a child and

participating in environmental programs as

an adult to blend her two passions together.

CONTINUED →


“Good choreography takes you through a journey,

and you have no idea where you’re going.”

— BRENNA MOSSER

Mosser spent her early 20s in

Europe studying dance and

developing an understanding

of the art of movement. She received

her bachelor’s degree in dance performance

from the Trinity Laban Conservatoire

of Music and Dance in London, and then

moved to Angers, France, to work with

world-renowned dance companies.

At around 24 years old, once

she was back on U.S. soil, Mosser

decided to join the Conservation

Corps Minnesota & Iowa, a

program for a variety

of ages to give back

to the community

through environmental

work according to the

Conservation Corps’

website.

After Mosser entered the Twin

Cities dance scene, Analog Dance

Works came to life. The dance company’s

mission is to provide a space

where artists can explore the intersection

between dance and science.

Mosser dedicates her passion to

her family, who supported Mosser in

her understanding of art and science

more deeply by engaging in “spectacular”

entire-family conversations about

these topics.

Her most recent choreographic

work, “The Awe Factor,” which includes

“Nightmare Escape on Plastic Island,”

attempts to inspire people with the

same love of the environment that she

has. She hopes it will inspire conversation

and ultimately, change.

“The Awe Factor” premiered in the

Spring of 2024 at the TEK BOX at the

Hennepin Center for the Arts in Minneapolis.

Now, almost a year later, she brought the choreography

back to life.

For the reprise, Mosser used the plastic element

within her piece to highlight the Zero

Waste Challenge by Hennepin County. During

February, the challenge spread awareness of

how limiting single-use plastics can make an

impact on climate change, according to the

Plastic-Free Challenge’s website.

This time around, Mosser donated the

plastic after the performance, in hopes to

give it one more life. One of the ways it will

be recycled is into new city park benches for

Hennepin County.

The choreography process

Choreography can be a lengthy process,

sometimes taking months to craft a performance-ready

piece. Mosser dedicates a lot of

her initial time to researching the topics she

wants to illustrate through movement.

When an idea strikes her, Mosser turns

to a few routes to begin expressing it in

physical movement. Sometimes a specific

movement pops into her head. However,

reading and conversations with experts in

the field can also spark her creativity.

Mosser wants to make people fall in love

with the environment through dance. This

core idea drives her conversations with

experts.

For her upcoming project, Mosser was invited

to the Artist-in-residence program

CONTINUED →

Mosser performs in

Minneapolis on Feb. 27,

2025. PHOTO BY MARGARET POULOS


After a frustrating private studio session at

Lunstrum Performing Arts in Minneapolis,

Mosser ponders the choreography for her

next production. PHOTO BY RAINA BREWER


Brenna Mosser, rehearses for her new

production during a private studio session at

Lunstrum Performing Arts. PHOTOS BY RAINA BREWER

at the University of Minnesota’s College of

Biological Sciences. She met with multiple

scientists to further develop her idea and

ask them about their own connections to the

environment.

Mosser won’t stop at just getting people

to care. She hopes to create a sense of awe,

which she describes as “that kind of resonating

feeling in your chest,” whether it is dance

as an art form or the environment as a whole.

Mosser interprets choreography as an

unveiling journey, creating that sense of awe

when the audience realizes the story behind

a dance.

Once an idea is set in stone, she turns to

improvisation. This type of movement allows

Mosser and her dancers to use all five senses

to paint a story and garner images.

This choreography journey can be a long

process for not only Mosser, who is constantly

teasing out what is working, but the dancers

as well. Mosser spends a lot of time taking

notes or videos of what she likes, or where a

set of movements is at for the time being. The

dancers are expected to practice the movement

and see where it takes them.

While Mosser has ideas of what she wants

in a piece, she is not married to an idea.

“If something is not working, let’s find

something else that will work,” she said.

There is a middle ground where intended

choreography meets individual choice for

dancers. Mosser, who performed in her own

reprise due to a dancer’s illness, said it was

scary to do her own movements.

“A lot of the movement feels good in my

body, which is because I choreographed it,”

she said. “But a lot of the movement as well,

I was like, I know this is a challenge, and I’m

maybe not the best dancer for it, but this is

what I want to have happen.”

Mosser said that each dancer will ultimately

have their own journey in any performance,

and she is curious about all of them.

However, each dancer’s journey should be

based on the choreography.

Next steps for Mosser

It was the second day of rehearsal for

Mosser’s upcoming project, Converge. Mosser

took out her nude knee pads, notebook and

pencil, a water bottle and a book titled “The


Mosser leads dance practice on March 19, 2025.

PHOTO BY MARGARET POULOS

Light Eaters: How the Unseen World of Plant

Intelligence Offers a New Understanding of

Life on Earth,” by Zoë Schlanger.

There were seven dancers present at the

rehearsal, which began with a warmup.

“This week is teasing out transitions,”

Mosser said to her dancers as they stretched

in a circle. There was a serious, yet inviting

energy in the room as Mosser went through

movements by herself, and the dancers

kept to their conversations, often filled with

laughter.

While Mosser creates the movement,

the dancers each have a stake in how they

ultimately perform. Jayde Grass, a dancer in

Mosser’s Converge, describes dance as a way

for the body to speak for oneself.

“Dance is the most universal language,”

she said.

Mosser works with the dancers to create

something they ultimately all feel comfortable

doing – and communicate it to an

audience.

“Good choreography takes you through a

journey, and you have no idea where you’re

going,” she said. “And then all a sudden, everything

you’ve seen makes sense.”


BY SOPHIA AUSETH

Putting “one foot in front

of the other” demands

perseverance and

discipline like no other. It’s

the battle of short runs and

running for speed against the

protracted toll of long runs.

Through my marathon training,

I’ve learned these five

tips from my own experience

and other runners:

5 Tips for running a

1. Run with a buddy. Running can get

lonely, so having a friend can help make

the time go by faster, and motivate you to

go further and faster.

2. Alternate easy and hard days.

Alternating gives your body the recovery

it needs between each run.

3. Get proper running shoes and gear.

The right shoes will have you running

your best, but the wrong ones can cause

injuries. It’s better to buy running shoes

in-store versus online. Always break

them in before race day.

4. Stay properly hydrated. Once you’re

dehydrated on a run, it is nearly impossible

to rehydrate yourself.

5. Give yourself grace. Running is

taxing, muscles start to cramp and joints

start to ache. It is important to listen to

your body when you feel it needs a break.

62 / INFLUX MAGAZINE /

Looooonnng flight?

With a bit of preparation and strategy, you can fly with ease. Here are a few suggestions

from someone who has flown many times from Minnesota to her home country.

BY YICHEN YAO

Prepare before the trip

On the flight

. Research your trip and be sure to

purchase the appropriate flight ticket.

.

Pick your seat on the plane.

The aisle seats can be more

comfortable. Or you can choose the

seats in the emergency exit row, which

are relatively more spacious.

. Wear comfortable clothes, like

sweatpants and a hoodie.

. Download entertainment content

on streaming platforms.

. Prepare travel pillows and

sleep masks.

. Stay hydrated before the flight.

. Stand up and walk every hour.

Stretching your legs promotes blood

circulation and prevents blood clots.

. Do some simple stretching

exercises on the seat, such as ankle

rotations and leg lifts.

. Drink more water. Avoid alcohol

and caffeine, which can aggravate

dehydration.

. The air in the cabin is dry, so use

lip balm and moisturizer to keep the

skin moist.

. Adjust your daily routine

according to the destination and try

to sleep on the plane according to the

destination timezone.

. Use the flight time to read, listen

to music or watch movies to relax.

. Carry earplugs or noise-canceling

headphones.

. Use disinfectant wipes: clean the

seat armrests, tray tables and screens

to maintain hygiene.

. Pack peppermint candy or

chewing gum.

Keeping a

positive attitude

will help you enjoy

the journey.

PHOTOS BY YICHEN YAO

/ 63

The radiant baby reborn

Keith Haring-inspired graffiti tags have been appearing around campus and surrounding

neighborhoods since last semester. How has his art, which is meant to be seen and

take up space, stayed relevant 35 years since his death?

BY SOMMER WAGEN

It’s 1982. A lanky young man joins

the crowd piling out of a New York

subway car. He looks furtively to

his left, then to his right. He strides

towards the tiled wall opposite the

track, locked onto the blank black paper

covering up empty advertising space.

He pulls out a piece of white chalk.

He draws quickly, in full view of

passersby. Some stop and watch the

image develop.

In a matter of minutes, a diptych appears.

Above, a simple, featureless figure

snaps a stick in half, the movement

and noise emphasized with short lines.

A circle with a heart inside hangs in the

upper left corner. Below, a figure chases

another with the stick intact, Xs placed

in each corner.

When he’s finished, the young man,

dressed in sneakers, blue jeans and a

white tank top, walks away casually,

hands in his pockets. On his shirt in

thick black lines is a figure in the same

style, a baby crawling on all fours.

Radiant lines emanate from it.

A radiant baby.

Decades later, I walk down the stairs

to the lower level of the Washington

Avenue bridge on the University of

Minnesota campus to catch the bus

home from class. I spot a message

scrawled across a pillar in large purple

letters:

“FREE PALESTINE.

WE WON’T BE SILENCED”

Below, a blocky, barking dog drawn

in black ink is chased by familiar-looking

figures. One holds up the Palestinian

flag, the other, a simple heart.

It's not clear who did the image on

the Washington Avenue bridge. But it's

the style of Keith Haring, the man who

drew the diptych in the New York subway

on CBS News more than 40 years

ago, and who died 35 years ago this

past February. It doesn't feel like mere

coincidence that graffiti art inspired

by Haring is appearing now. In a way,

the tags feel like Haring’s spirit leaving

messages from beyond, reminding us

from where and when it came. When

you think about it, our times are hardly

different from his.

One of several tags that have appeared by the

Anderson Hall bus stop, on West Bank campus.


A Future Primeval

It’s easy to recognize a Haring when

you see one, and even if you don’t, you’ll

probably feel like you’ve seen it somewhere

before. The summer before I saw

that first tag, the Walker Art Center in

Minneapolis hosted “Keith Haring: Art

is for Everybody,” the latest traveling

exhibition to explore the artist’s enduring

influence.

Likewise, once you’ve seen a Haringinspired

tag around campus, it’s hard

not to see them everywhere — on the

upper level of the Washington bridge,

on the backs of bus stop signs, or hidden

on a utility box outside of Coffman

Memorial Union.

Recently, whoever is drawing them

has been adding messages.

“Why erase art?” referencing the

tags consistently being painted over.

“Please make art.”

“See art, make art.”

“¡Viva la resistencia!”

Even before his death, Haring’s work

was absorbed into consumer culture,

denuding it of its anti-establishment

themes. When taken out of context, a

bunch of wiggling, featureless figures

frozen in motion are perfect for adorning

$10 T-shirts from Old Navy.

But in a catalogue essay for the

1990-91 traveling Haring exhibition

“Future Primeval,” Harvard psychologist

and 1960s counterculture hero,

Timothy Leary, places Haring's work

in the context of the "turbulent scary

decade" of the 1980s.

Haring did some of his most prominent

work in response to the AIDS

crisis, which affected him acutely as

a gay man and would later claim his

life. According to the CDC, more than

100,000 deaths among AIDS patients

were reported between 1981 and 1990,

but no one knows how many more

deaths went unreported. Journalist

Randy Shilts famously argued in his

1987 book “And the Band Played On”

that the Ronald Reagan administration

actively ignored the epidemic due to

homophobia until countless lives had

been lost.

Many tags

iterate

upon

Haring’s

style

with new

characters,

such as this

sticker with

dancing

rat figures

found

on the

Washington

Avenue

Bridge.

The first tag I remember seeing,

which was eventually painted over.

Haring’s own work was often

imbued with social justice

messaging.


Haring-esque figures run, jump and cartwheel

on the back of a utility box outside of Coffman

Memorial Union.

Fast forward 40 years. According

to Axios, the flurry of executive orders

President Donald Trump issued within

his first 100 days included mandating

federal recognition of only two sexes,

removing the ability to change passport

gender markers and removing federal

funding from medical schools and hospitals

that research gender-affirming

care. Even the website for the Stonewall

National Monument, the birthplace of

the Gay Liberation Movement, which is

managed by the National Parks Service,

removed all mentions of transgender

people, despite trans women such as

Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera

leading the charge during the uprising

and its aftermath.

Haring’s artwork plays a key role

in queer history, and University of

Minnesota students today recognize

that.

“It reminds us of the AIDS crisis,

and that’s it mainly for me,” said fourthyear

student Kait Sisney. “It’s a reminder

of how we lost so many people. We

lost so much art and so much work and

so much science and so much love and

care.”

Still, for Sisney and other queer

students, the Haring-like tags around

campus are bright spots in a darkly

chaotic world.

Abby Wichlacz, also in their fourth

year, said they appreciate the political

messages that have accompanied some

of the tags.

“Especially considering the climate

right now, I get the sense that I’m not

the only one thinking these things and

feeling a little bit lost,” they said.

The ability of Haring’s art to reach

people across time gets at how Leary interpreted

the phrase “Future Primeval.”

“Keith's art spanned the history

of the human spirit,” he wrote. “Keith

could have jumped out of the time capsule

in the paleolithic age and started

drawing on cave walls and they would

have understood and laughed— particularly

the kids…Keith communicated in

the basic global icons of our race.”

“A beautiful form of

self-expression”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Haring

tags around campus that seem to be

removed the quickest are those with

overt political messages. The “Free

Palestine” figures that I first saw were

painted over within a week.

No tag is safe from erasure, though.

A larger piece that fourth-year student

Stella Johnson found in a Blegen Hall

bathroom that depicted figures sliding,

crawling and dancing down a dragon’s

unfurled tongue was also removed.

Many tags still remain, including

a green figure surrounded by

pro-Palestine stickers on a lamppost

on Scholar’s Walk, as well as those on

off-campus neighborhoods such as

Southeast Como, Stadium Village and

Cedar-Riverside.

Each student I interviewed objected

to the tags being removed.

“I think it’s stupid,” said Sisney, a

self-described “graffiti nerd.” “It’s art

that we celebrate in museums and that

we cherish, that people are charged

money to see, but then you have a

problem with someone putting it up

around your campus? It’s silencing at

that point.”

What’s even more ironic: Haring

himself got his start in graffiti.

For some artists, graffiti is an act of

reclamation.

“In a lot of senses, [it] is kind of this

questioning of who gets to decide what

our lives look like,” said Twin Cities

graffiti artist CILA, as reported by

One of Wichlacz’s favorite tags, also found on a

West Bank pillar, says to bring back the medium

where Haring got his start: graffiti. The tag was

painted over. PHOTOS BY SOMMER WAGEN


A sticker on a window of WaHu Apartments in Stadium

Village encourages people to make their own art in

response to what they see, like Haring himself did.


journalist Quinn McClurg. “Why does

some building owner get to decide that?

So it’s this kind of flipping the script of

being like, ‘No, actually, we’re going to

paint on our walls.’”

Johnson pointed out how relevant

this sentiment is on a college campus.

“I know the [Washington Avenue]

Bridge used to have a lot of paintings

and graffiti, and I think part of why they

got rid of it was because it was getting

‘too political,’” she said. “But I think on

a college campus you should be more

free to do things like that.”

In this regard, spotting a joyously dynamic

Haringesque tag on the bridge,

now shrouded in a dreary anti-suicide

chain link fence, feels extra special.

Johnson said that seeing the graffiti

has made her want to start tagging as

well.

Wichlacz, who documents the tags

and other graffiti around the Twin

Cities on their Tumblr blog, captioned

one of their posts with a Keith Haring

quote:

“I don’t think that graffiti is

vandalism; I think it’s a beautiful

form of self-expression.”

Keith Haring with the poster he

designed for ArtFest, 1984.

IMAGE COURTESY THE WALKER ART CENTER


A sticker by the West Bank staircase to eastbound bus stops on Washington

Avenue indirectly confronts the University about removing the tags.

“Art absolutely comes

from the soul”

Based on her name alone, Minneapolis

thick line and pop artist Molly Haring

seemed like the prime suspect for the

tags around campus.

In actuality, she hadn’t even seen a

picture before I showed her over a Zoom

chat, but she identified the artist as a fellow

“disciple of Keith.”

Molly, a trans woman, adopted the last

name in homage to Keith and how his

art style influenced her identity as she

transitioned.

“He’s got a flow, and I feel it. I feel that

flow in my body,” she said. “If a Haring is

a genre of person, then I am definitely of

that species.”

Molly said her goal as an artist isn’t to

copy Keith’s work, but to iterate upon it,

relying on simple, thick lines and shapes

and bright colors while playing up the

trippiness and telling her own stories.

On top of canvas paintings, Molly has

also done graffiti and body paintings

(which Keith also did), as well as stickand-poke

tattoos, all of which have come

from the deluge of art she has produced

since transitioning.

A trans woman today using Keith

Haring’s art as a vessel for self-expression

speaks to its powerful relevance, as

well as its dynamism.

Haring once said of his art, “To define

my art is to destroy the purpose of it…

Nobody knows what the ultimate meaning

of my work is because there is none.”

Decades after his death, people are infusing

his style with their own meaning. He

would probably want nothing more than

that.

None of the students I interviewed

had an idea of who could be doing the

tags. It could be a single “disciple of

Keith” seeking to revive the spirit of his

art, or it could be a group of them, given

the breadth of their presence across

campus.

“I’m kind of torn on finding out [who

it is],” Wichlacz said. “It would be great to

know because I want to give this person

their accolades, but at the same time it’s

a nice little mystery that I can think about

and not associate with a person.”

In that sense, perhaps it doesn’t matter

who it is. Even in death, Haring is tapping

into a collective feeling that retains

the power to unite.

Many students identified the Haring tags as small spots of joy on their walks through campus, with their dynamic shapes and

movements and uplifting messages. PHOTOS BY SOMMER WAGEN


Sakthi Sundaram Saravanan,

President of the UMN Taekwondo

Club and James Cho warm up

with pads at RecWell Center.

PHOTO BY MAYA BELL

Taekwondo club:

community and motion

BY MAYA BELL

Kicking, punching and brandishing

weapons at each other is not how

most people build a sense of community.

But for many members of

the University of Minnesota’s Taekwondo

Club, finding where – and with whom – you

belong is equally important to the physical

challenge of martial arts.

There is plenty of sweaty warm-up exercise

for members of the intramural club when

they gather on Mondays, Wednesdays and

Fridays in a corner room at Rec-Well. You’ll

hear the thud of blows hitting pads. On a recent

Wednesday, members worked together

to put on bright red and blue sparring gear,

before gathering on two green mats as club

president Sakthi Sundaram Saravanan went

over the plan for the evening.

Taekwondo, which translates to “the way

of the foot and hand,” is a Korean martial

art that became popular in the U.S. after the

Korean War. According to Asian Matters for

America, there are 7 million practitioners of

Taekwondo in the U.S.

“I try to create a challenge for every single

person, regardless of where they are in their

career in Taekwondo,” Saravanan said.

Usually, the club has at least 10-20 members

at practice, ranging from freshmen to

seniors. On Mondays, Taekwondo focuses on

“Poomsae,” a sequence of defense and attack

moves and conditioning for leg strength so

group members can improve their kicks.

Saravanan says is the most difficult practice.

“You have to be very precise with your

movements. You have to be gentle yet forceful

with your moves when you do Poomsae,

and that’s a big challenge for a lot of people,”

Saravanan said.

Wednesdays are for sparring sessions.

Friday is given over to training with traditional

weapons like nunchucks, and flat swords

and the staff.

The club participates in collegiate competitions

and performs for student associations,

such as the Asian Student Association and the

Korean Student Association.

Even with the physical training, the martial

arts give the Taekwondo Club a sense of

community.

“I’ve been able to meet a lot of good people

who all share the same sort of interest and passion

that I have for Taekwondo, but also people

that I feel comfortable around that I can be myself,”

said James Cho, vice president of the club.

Cho originally joined the club as a beginner

during his freshman year. Taekwondo was

something he always wanted to do, but his parents

would not allow it.

“My parents didn’t let me because they were

like, ‘You’re gonna hurt yourself, you’re not athletic

enough.’ I saw the club, and I was like, you

know, I’m in college, why not?” Cho said. “So I

showed up at the first practice and I just really


liked the vibe.”

He practiced Taekwondo on and off by

watching internet videos and from friends

during elementary school. He kept coming

back due to the sense of community and the

friendships he’s made.

While the club doesn’t have the belt system,

he said he’s at least at a first-degree black

belt in experience.

“I feel like I’ve become more comfortable

moving in my own body, as in like when I

move, I don’t feel as slow,” Cho said. I feel more

comfortable. I feel I can go faster. I can now

jump higher.”

After three years of training and fighting,

he learned a lot from taekwondo beyond

kicking and punching. One important lesson

is that building a sense of community doesn’t

come from thin air, it takes a lot of work.

“Being the vice president for the past two

years, I’ve had to do a lot of things like organizing,

trying to get meetings done,” Cho said.

“It’s a lot of work, but after so many years of

doing it, I started to get a sense of how to effectively

do it so that everybody basically doesn’t

exclude anyone.”

One of the new members, James Bode, said

he appreciates that approach.

Bode did Taekwondo during high school in

a much more disciplined and rigid system.

“I’d say the community is awesome. It’s

not like when I did Taekwondo, it was with a

formal master. It was very regimented. This is

laid-back, casual. They don’t have to compete.

They can be there for hanging out and sparring,”

Bode said.

Each of the club members has a different

goal they want to achieve. Cho hopes the club

gets more funding from the university to pay

for training equipment and competitions.

Bode wants to use the club to help him enjoy

his senior year and maybe branch out after

college.

“Being a senior, I think it’s less about trying

to set some high bar for myself. It’s more so

to have an outlet to socialize and exercise and

then get back into Taekwondo and probably

carry it on after undergrad,” Bode said.

Even as the clock ticked down to the end of

this Wednesday’s session, some members still

wanted to spar, including Bode. For the final

matchups of the night, Bode and Cho sparred

against each other.

As they finally stopped, Bode, panting on

the floor, gave Cho a fist bump.

“Good match,” Bode said.

The Taekwondo club offers

members a chance to practice

and meet new people.

Above, Taekwondo members

observe practice.

PHOTO BY MAYA BELL

Left, Sakthi Sundaram

Saravanan, president of

the UMN Taekwondo Club,

demonstrates pad kicks.



A rack of vintage gowns at Goldstein Museum located in St Paul. PHOTO BY SYDNEY BECKER

Q&A

with Goldstein Curator

Jean McElvain


The purse and clutch collection at the Goldstein Museum. PHOTO BY SYDNEY BECKER

CURATING FASHION HISTORY

The Goldstein Museum’s growing collection focuses on preservation of fashion history and culture.

BY AVA VAN HOFWEGEN

Jean McElvain is a curator for the

Goldstein Museum of Design responsible

for developing its collection of

fashion pieces, altogether around

30,000 articles of clothing, accessories and

shoes. Each item is organized, labeled and

stored, ensuring its preservation. The museum

has been collecting items since the 1950s,

despite not being established as a museum

until the 1970s. The collection documents

fashion history, trends and insights into culture

around the world. Many of its pieces are

received through donations, which McElvain

researches and selects.

McElvain spoke to InFlux Magazine about

the world of fashion and the process of curating

a museum collection. Her comments have

been edited for length and clarity.

CONTINUED →


Q: What is your process for

museum curation?

Curation has a nonlinear approach. I

co-curated an exhibition last fall, Narrative

Threads, based on an individual’s lifelong

travel collection of textile objects from India.

My process is to work with print resources

in the library and compare those against the

object. I reach out to the local community

who might have expertise in that area, so

that we can do right by the objects. If they’re

from a cultural region outside of our own, we

want to make sure that we’re working with a

community that has first-hand knowledge of

those pieces.

The exhibition was focused on embroidered

pieces from a specific part of Northern

India and Pakistan. There is a lot to look at

and try to read from the objects themselves.

You’re trying to pull out pieces that can tell a s

tory so that people will be able to relate

and react in a way that makes them curious.

So we have the information-gathering part

of curation, and then trying to coalesce all

these different sources back into a readable

text, while trying to avoid language that feels

overly jargony. We try to weave a narrative,

no pun intended, that tells a story people can

understand. We want to make sure that some

people feel heard along the way.

Q: How do you see the development

of function in design over fashion?

With fashion, people often overlay contemporary

concepts of function and wear

when looking at past garments.

We just pulled garments for a class, from


“Design is how

we get through

our day and

function, everything

we do is

touched by it.”

— JEAN McELVAIN

the mid-1800s and they said ‘Oh, they look

so uncomfortable!’ Well, that’s almost not

germane, because our idea of comfort is athleisure.

It’s just not a paradigm that they were

used to.

The function of clothing over time has

changed quite a bit. There’s always this competing

idea of function and clothing. And

what does function mean? Does it function

socially? Does it function athletically? Does

it stay on your body? Is it sexy? What are you

trying to do with your clothing, I think, is the

fascinating part of clothing.

Q: Why is design important?

Design is everything around us. If you’re

thinking specifically of clothing, it’s so important

that we can solve problems through

design, whether it’s a garment problem or a

global problem about access to water or access

to resources. It’s important in terms of

the iterative process.

Design is how we get through our day and

function, everything we do is touched by it.

Wearing gloves to protect

elements of the collection,

Jean McElvain works with

a collection of folding fans

from the early 20th century.

PHOTO BY SYDNEY BECKER


Q: Is fashion evolution influenced

more by the public and its needs or is

it mainly the designers’ influence?

I think it’s very mutual right now. For a

long time, there was this theory that in the

1700s, 1800s and 1900s, it was the hierarchically

powerful people who would dictate

fashion and everybody would try to copy

them. During the 20th century, that began

to be more overtly challenged. It might have

been challenged previous to the 1960s; it’s

Top, Jean McElvain holds a vintage wedding

gown. Left, a collection of shoes from the

20th century. PHOTOS BY SYDNEY BECKER


Above, a 1962 Davidow two piece wool skirt

set. Below, a 1938 silk Schiaparelli gown.

PHOTOS BY SYDNEY BECKER

more talked about as a recent phenomenon.

Street culture is influential to designers.

Before hip-hop, designers weren’t making

certain silhouettes. Punk was a street movement

and became stylish. People who are

trying to be fringe or alternative are always

trying to run from mass manufacturing of the

style. Big luxury houses tend to pull on some

of the historic fashion lore.

If you look at Chanel, they’ll still produce

lines every year that look like they have the

chunky jacket from the 1960s. You could

argue that it is more embedded in a designer-down

kind of structure.

I think it’s strongly influenced by what celebrities

wear, what your friend wears, what

you see in the street.

The finances of fashion, too, are influential.

There is much more accessible clothing at a

lower price point. From my perspective, it’s

more strongly coming from the bottom up.

Q: If there was a fire, what would be

the one piece you would save?

What’s my favorite? That is so hard,

because often in curating, you’re trying to

eventually remove yourself emotionally from

pieces. I have a special fondness for our

Fortuny gowns, from the 1920s and 30s that

are absolutely irreplaceable. Same with our

Schiaparelli gowns, which are irreplaceable,

but that’s a hard question.

It really is much more valuable as a collection.

Individually, a 1950s makeup compact,

you’re like, cool, but so what?

But if you have 10 of them, then you start

to see variation. You can start to read more

from them by comparison.


Odówaŋ lyápi:

BY AYLA JORGENSEN

Ava Grace, a student at the

University of Minnesota, is a double

major in journalism and the

Dakota language. Born and raised

in Minneapolis, she has always been deeply

connected to the city’s vibrant urban Native

community.

As a kid, Ava became involved with Dream

of Wild Health in South Minneapolis, a

program dedicated to restoring health and

well-being in Native communities by reviving

knowledge of Indigenous foods, medicines

and lifestyles. Through this program, she

was introduced to traditional practices and

learned her first Dakota words and phrases.

Her passion for the language grew, and by

high school, she was taking college-level

Dakota courses, ultimately graduating early

to pursue the Dakota language program at

the University of Minnesota.

Ava is Lakota, part of the Oceti Sakowin

Oyate (Seven Council Fires), a nation made up

of distinct but linguistically-related groups.

Learning the language and eventually teaching

it became a profound source of connection

for her to her culture. She wants to pass

that on to the next generation. “My ultimate

goal is for my kids to be first-language speakers,”

she said.

Eventually, she began to write poetry in

University of Minnesota student Ava Grace

finds her voice in writing poetry in the

Dakota language. PHOTO BY SYDNEY BECKER

the language. The odówaŋ iyápi presented

here are a result of Ava’s dedication—not

just to learning Dakota words, but to internalizing

the meaning embedded within the

language’s structure. She wrote each poem

with the intention that every line supported

and enriched the overall meaning, always

mindful not to use sacred words or phrases in

contexts that did not justify their use.

Mníhaha k’a Owámniomni

and Assimilation?

The words Mnihaha (waterfall) and

Owamniomni (turbulent water) are the

Dakota names for what are commonly known

as Minnehaha Falls and St. Anthony Falls.

Ava was inspired to write a poem after

learning that Owamniomni once existed

near Mnihaha, but erosion—accelerated by

commercial activity along the river—shifted

it much farther north.

She reflects on the sorrow of these waterfalls

drifting apart after once being so intimately

connected. The Dakota word hasaŋi

came to her when she first heard the story.

Though it has no direct English equivalent, it

conveys a sense of deep connection, literally

meaning “connected with skin.”

Another poem, Assimilation? explores the

contrast between Indigenous and non-Indigenous

values within the framework of

assimilationist policies enforced by Indian

boarding schools. It reflects on what was lost

when traditional values such as empathy,

community, deep spirituality and respect for

the land were abandoned in the single-minded

pursuit of individualism and profitability.

Ava choosing to address this subject in a

language that was once nearly eradicated

is a powerful testament to the resilience of

Dakota values and culture.

Dakota artists are

well-known for their use

of florals in embroidery

and beadwork. The designs

are often symmetrical,

using delicate, pastel colors.


Reclaiming Identity through

Dakota Word Songs

Mnihahá k’a Owámniomni

Iha nawáh’uŋ

Hahá núm kichíyuzapi

Wakháŋheza skatápi wáŋbdake

Icúŋhan wiŋyaŋ kiŋ amásteic’iyepi

K’a wichásta kiŋ hógaŋ odépi

Hahá kiŋ kichíhnuni

Chaŋkú oõík’ada ayé

Chéya nawáh’un

Naháŋnake hasáŋni ecíye

Wáŋna naziŋ isnádapi

LISTEN TO AVA GRACE

RECITE HER POEMS IN THE

DAKOTA LANGUAGE

Assimilation?

Phézi uŋkózupi

Phézi wiyópheyeyapi

Táku wakháŋ chéuŋkiyapi

Wasicu waŋ wichasta chéyakiyapi

Phehiŋ uŋkichisuŋpi

Súŋ uŋyáhduksapi

Wochaŋtohnake unspéuŋkic’ichiyapi

Eháŋni wówicada “Wakhágsica” echáŋni

Wáŋna uŋhípi

Wóihake tókha wawásigsicuke ikiciyaye

I hear laughter

Two waterfalls hold each other

I see children playing

While the women sunbathe

And the men look for fish

The waterfalls lose each other

The trails grow narrow

And now, her partner calls out

They now stand alone

— Minnehaha and St. Anthony Falls

We grow our medicine

You all sell yours [medicine]

We pray to spirits

You all pray to a white man

We all braid each other’s hair

You all cut them [braids]

We teach one another empathy

You think our traditional ways are “devilish”

Now we’re here.

It is funny how assimilation works


MAP BY LILIAN NGUYEN

LEGEND

ORIGINAL DAKOTA NAMES OF THE TWIN CITIES

A

Wakpa Taŋka

Mississippi River

F

Mnisota Wakpa

Minnesota River

K

Wamanica Okaske Tipi

Como Zoo

B

Wita Topa Bde

Lake of the Isles

G

Owamniyomni

St Anthony Falls

L

Watakiŋyaŋ Oinaziŋ

MSP Airport

C

D

Bde Maka Ska

Bde Umaŋ

Lake Harriet

H

I

Wita Waste

Nicollet Island

Wita Taŋka

Pike Island

M

N

Isaŋthaŋka Akicita Tipi

Fort Snelling

Mnisota Makobaspe Tuŋkasidaŋyaŋpi Tipi

Capitol Building

E

Mnihaha Wakpadaŋ

Minnesota Creek

J

Mnisota Wounspe Waŋkatuya

University of Minnesota

O

Bde Ota Otunwe Wokage Owapazo Tipi

Minneapolis Institute of Art

P

Q

Bdote

Confluence of Minnesota and Mississippi

Rivers (Creation Story))

Wakan Tipi

Creation Story caves located near Bdote (Carver’s Cave)

R

Kap’oza

Historic Dakota village (downtown St Paul)


INFLUX Magazine_Spring 2025

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