At 17, Chalmers joined the Air Force to “become a man”, which led to a four year stint in London. It was a welcome escape from the increasingly tense situation in the United States. Emmett Till had been murdered only a few years prior and Martin Luther King’s famous “I Have a Dream Speech” was several years away. England wasn’t exactly a shining city on the hill for…

It's not uncommon for Asian Americans to feel like outsiders in a group of perpetual outsiders. America has long viewed the Asian diaspora with distrust, especially during times of great societal change or stress. Unsurprisingly, our parents often stress the importance of cultural assimilation, of fitting in. (My mother even gave me a "white" name…

"When I remember I see red” is a phrase laden with allusions to memory, race, bloodshed, and anger. It recalls the American Indian experience and the activism that characterizes this generation of Native artists. In addition to creating compelling works of art, many helped restore aspects…

Few would argue against the idea that museums are the legacy of Western colonialism, serving as the products of straight, able-bodied, white, male privilege. This creates all sorts of problems when talking about “art” and “not-art”. And yet, paradoxically, many museums see themselves…

Animal Crossing: New Horizons is having a bit of a moment. For those of you who don’t know, Animal Crossing is a game about collecting bugs for a terrified owl, fishing for a rare fish that just won’t spawn, low-key flexing on your friends, and about once a week, meticulously analyzing famous artworks so you don’t get hoodwinked by a fox who definitely does not…

In the late 2000s, a new type of music dropped into the YouTube playlists of students everywhere: Chillwave. The dreamy, retro pop sound is often accompanied by a lo-fi aesthetic, mellow vocals, and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. Fashionista Boyfriend, the brainchild of Casey Groat, is no exception. His debut album, Last Night, oozes atmosphere from a bygone era — be it a fuzzy summer memory or a momentary microgenre.

Leland Stanford stood over what soon be the First Transcontinental Railroad, hemmed in by a crowd of jubilant workers, railroad officials, and two imposing locomotives. A telegraph wire ran from the silver maul in his hands to a single railroad spike. Millions of dollars, almost two decades of work, and an inconceivable amount of human suffering had led to this moment. Stanford grasped the maul and swung…