It opened with a cover of Andrew Bird’s “Left Handed Kisses” by Quinn Etoll ’23 (vocals), Julien Barriere ’24 (guitar, vocals), and Madeliene Speagle ’23 (violin). This was a great opener as many coming-of-age experiences involve heartbreak and the messiness of romance, which continued to appear throughout the night. Both Etoll and Barriere’s solo acts featured songs they wrote about love, with Etoll’s sobering “After You’re Gone,” written for someone she met at an open mic, balancing Barriere’s saccharine “Calico,” about a love confession to his now girlfriend. On the poetry side, Anneliese Peerbolte ’26 “Love Letter to a Taurus,” a heartwarming rendition of butch love, was read because although they “keep writing poems about people and then breaking up with them” it’s still a good poem in their eyes. Although not necessarily about her own coming of age, Carolina de la Vega ’26 read “Lobster Song,” a playful poem about the separation of two queer lobster soulmates that she wrote after eating lobster with friends in Boston. Love isn’t just that shared between people (or lobsters), but also with oneself. Ayelet Kaminer’s ’25 “Prayer Upon Buying a Vibrator,” read in both Hebrew and English, rejected shame about self-pleasure and instead held reverence for it. 

In addition to struggles with romantic love were those with societal expectations. Jacqueline Roderick ’23 read “Reimbursement,” a poem they wrote during sophomore fall that dealt with some of the classism that they had experienced during their time at Wellesley. As someone from a low-income background myself, I choked up a little at the line “your food was for thought, mine was for eating,” because it gets at the fact that those with financial privilege are able to experience more because they don’t have to just focus on survival. The second song Dan Lu ’26 performed expressed the pressure she felt to perform femininity and her declaring that she was “not going to be who my daddy wants [her] to be.” Finally Phoenix Endicott ’25 read “A House Called Tomorrow” by Alberto Ríos and explained that, alongside the motto “Make your ancestors proud” and a Hawaiian saying, these were the things they kept in mind when things got difficult or they needed motivation to keep going.

To close things out Barriere and Speagle gave an impromptu comedy sketch, mostly focusing on building off of strange responses to questions for the audience. One such response led to a few different theme park anecdotes, such as taking photos with alligators at Gatorland in Florida or near-lawsuit worthy injuries from Wild Waves in Washington. The audience streamed out as the bit dragged on, as Barriere had forecasted before launching into the opening song at the beginning of the event. Yet, those who did arrive stayed throughout the entire open mic, not just to see their friends perform. While a small group, it created an intimate space, one that held the complexities of the subject matter at hand. To explore coming of age is to celebrate the joys, laugh at the awkwardness and also to sit in hushed silence at the pains that come with entering adulthood. The performers captured that in their work, and the audience responded to it accordingly. Despite the differences in identities that made up both, it seems none of us can escape the growing pains of adolescence and there’s comfort in that.

She truly missed being able to go on tour and was delighted to read a few short passages from the novel before talking more in-depth about it. In fact, voice is central to the structure of the book, as the book itself is one of the narrators, creating a dialogue between Benny, the main character, and it. Not only does this create an unreliable narrator, but it brings a playfulness to what would otherwise be a difficult narrative to read. Benny, a 14-year-old boy, is struggling with the recent death of his father as well as what ends up being diagnosed as schizo-affective disorder. He begins to recover through reading, not unlike Ozeki herself. 

She said that “fiction has to be the most personal genre,” as her novels have all included some sort of personal element to them. The most recent two have featured teenagers struggling with mental health and finding solace in books, similar to how Ozeki coped with anxiety and depression at that age. She was also processing the death of her own father during the course of the eight years it took to write the novel. She said that is in part why there are so many personal elements, as her political opinions cannot help but be infused when she has time to ruminate on them. It becomes a positive feedback loop, however, where she struggles to finish when there are more ideas to incorporate because she takes more time.

In addition to the personal exploration in “The Book of Form and Emptiness,” Buddhism played a big part in shaping the novel. Ozeki drew from a question from a Zen parable “do insentient beings speak the dharma?” to inform how inanimate objects’ voices were incorporated into the story. Dharma roughly translates to “right way of living,” and could refer to how the inanimate objects form attachments to people and vice versa. This was combined with the proverb “only a Buddha in a Buddha” — meaning no enlightenment without others — when she chose to feature multiple perspectives in the narration. It felt limiting to only have the third person omniscient narrator, as initially she was just writing from the book’s perspective. She later switched to incorporate Benny, however, finding the two together to convey her themes better than the one. Finally, Ozeki centered the relationships that Benny formed, especially with those who were also receiving treatment in the psychiatric inpatient ward, as a way to illustrate the Buddhist concept of “no self.” Benny couldn’t begin recovery unless he had the support of others. While the novel itself is a complex read, understanding how Buddhism is interwoven into the text adds a layer, giving more food for thought. 

Much of the discussion focused on the craft of storytelling, both with specifics directed at choices Siefvater made as well as advice for aspiring writers. She was asked about how much research went into her writing, and recommended that whatever it is someone wants to write about it is helpful to already have some prior knowledge of the subject. With “The Raven Cycle,” there was a lot drawn from her college studies like Welsh history to speaking and writing Latin, as well as her own personal interests like cars. She encouraged declaring the very thing one wanted to foreshadow, with a nod to Noah’s story. Finally, she encouraged writers to really delve into the writing process and create a good story, because as much as she loves characters they alone cannot make up for the lack of a plot.

Interspersed throughout were anecdotes that spurred bursts of laughter. When talking about her interest in cars and her 1973 Camaro that inspired Gansey’s car “the pig,” she reminisced on the time a friend of hers read some steamy fanfiction of Ronan and Gansey that made it so she “couldn’t look at the gear shift the same way.” Later on as she discussed incorporating Latin into the story and how Ronan uses it, she talked about the jokes she wrote on the board in her Latin class in college. After the last final exam her ancient chainsmoking Latin professor startled Stiefavter by grabbing her and saying she was aware that Stiefavter had been writing the jokes because “no one else in this damn class speaks Latin.” Listening to her anecdotes that inspired the series and those that occured over the course of its publication explained why she called it “self-indulgent.”

That isn’t to say that the series was easy to write. In 2014 Stiefvater began to experience symptoms for what would be diagnosed in 2019 as Addison’s Disease. This impacted not only writing and touring but her everyday functioning. Additionally, she was receiving a lot of negative fan feedback about the series and she found it painful to write the story she wanted to write alongside it. She refused to say she’d never return to the world of “The Raven Cycle”/”The Dreamer Trilogy,” but for the time being feels that she has nothing else to add onto it and wants to focus on writing standalone books. Leaving readers possibly disappointed, but satisfied that the series was ending with intention from the author. 

Starting at 5 p.m., WZLY DJed outside as students, faculty and community members chatted and enjoyed hors d’oeuvres at the tent in the courtyard. With the jovial atmosphere and the excitement of the Davis staff, one would have no idea how difficult the installation of the current special exhibitions was. Just hours prior to opening, Mark Beeman, the manager of exhibitions and collections preparation, and Sarina Kahn-Reddy, the media specialist, were placing the finishing touches on everything.

At 6 p.m., Lisa Fischman, the Ruth Gordon Shapiro ’37 director, gave praise and thanks to those who made the re-opening possible in her opening remarks. She informed visitors of the 15-minute tours from 6:30 to 7:30 that would visit all of the special exhibitions open this fall. She ended with the announcement of the upcoming heating, ventilation and air conditioning (HVAC) renovations that will have the museum closed from January 2023 until Spring 2024. These renovations are essential to the preservation of the works in the collection, though the timing is unfortunate since the museum had only reopened in Spring 2022. 

Students who have not visited the Davis yet, or want to visit again, should be sure to stop by from now until Dec. 18. The current special exhibitions are more than worth an afternoon’s visit, and even if you have visited before, some of the permanent collection on display has changed.

The first is Maori artist Lisa Reihana’s “In Pursuit of Venus [Infected].” It is a video installation on the Lower Level of the museum that appropriates and transgresses the imagery present in the early 19th century wallpaper “Les Sauvages de la Mer Pacifique.” Here, Reihanar centers the Indigenous perspective on colonial contact with Pasifika peoples. The video is projected onto the wall through 5 projectors. It travels from right to left across the screens, yet different scenes are shown simultaneously. This is to favor a Maori conception of a nonlinear passage of time, which formally centers the Indigenous perspective, as well as disrupts the Western historical canon of these events. The result is a surreal viewing experience as sound and visuals travel around you.

On the second floor are three other incredible exhibitions. The first is “Freedom of Expression: African American Printmakers Abroad,” which was curated by Heather Hughes, the former Kemper assistant curator of academic affairs and exhibitions, as well as the Davis’ 2021 summer interns Chloe Pearce ’21, Grey Devlin ’22, Kay Bobb ’23 and Uttkantha Sindhwani ’22. It explores the works of various Black American artists in the early 20th century and the advancements they made to their practice through living and studying abroad.

The second exhibition is “Telling Time: Recent Acquisitions,” curated by Dr. Amanda Gilvin, Sonja Novak Koerner ’51, a senior curator and the assistant director of curatorial affairs. Using works that have entered the collection within the last five years, Dr. Gilvin explores how the historical narrative of art, as well as the narratives behind Wellesley and the field of museums, are shifting in response to current understandings of decolonization. The works vary in size, medium and subject matter, but are still able to address the overarching theme of the exhibition. 

The final special exhibition is “Gold, Glass and Pearls,” which exhibits ancient Mediterranean jewelry from both the Davis collection and Clapp Special Collections. It was curated by Nicole Berlin, the assistant curator of collections, and explores the stories of the jewelry’s creation as well as their usage. Through the use of 3D scanning, there are scans that allow for a 360-degree view of the objects as well as 3D printed copies of some of the jewelry that can be handled by visitors.

In addition to these special exhibitions, there have been changes to the other galleries. On every floor there have been objects swapped out for other pieces in the permanent collections, so even if you have visited before, there are new connections to be made between what is currently on display.

Just as the works’ connections to the theme vary, so do the mediums used. Some of my favorites are the photo installations. Hannah Dong’s ’22 “Fragmented Realities” is located in the Jewett Art Gallery and consists of eight archival inkjet prints on a plastic surface. They’re all on small stands so that they are upright to the viewer and have the subject face outward from two  pedestals. Each one is distorted, with the images sometimes being out of focus or having been printed so the ink would pool or bubble up. Dong uses the distortion to explore self-identity and how one navigates reflections and presentations of the self and others. Often the eyes of the subject would be scratched, replaced by pooled ink, or blotted out entirely, alluding to the warped perception one may develop of themself by looking at through the world’s lens. 

Not every print has a person on it though — some have hands. These hands are extended upward in varied degrees of being opened. The background of the hand prints are blue, seeming as though they were hands reaching up towards the sky. In one of the hand prints it isn’t reaching towards anything, but rather holding a rose that acts as an extension of the arm. The varying state of open or closed might read as the resistance one puts forth against the limitations society has, or the pursuit of freedom beyond these limitations.

Out in the Jewett Hallway Gallery is Maxx Aguilar’s ’22 “Nicotiana,” which is an acrylic painting on gessoed tempered masonite. They depicted two Black people watching a plant bud. The bud is in front of both of the people’s faces, casting luminescence onto them. There’s unity between the colors of the bud and plant and the people which visually represents the spiritual connection between them. The petal that is beginning the transformation of the bud has a sharp angle that is seen again in the corner of one eye on both of the figures, which connects the development and growth of the people and nature. Aguilar created this unity between Black people and nature to explore healing from colonialism and enslavement. Specifically, they’re centering Black transgender identity and the growth and healing beyond gender identities and heirarchies imposed by white people. It’s a beautiful piece that uses warm colors and swaying, soft brush strokes to represent the path forward. There must be healing for those, both people and nature, who have been harmed.

Finally, in the Sculpture court is Sarah Pado’s ’22 “Getting ready for Bed.” It is a portrait of the artist and her partner in pencil on paper. They are in a bathroom near the sink, where she’s drying her face with a towel and he is brushing his teeth. In the foreground of the drawing is the perspective of her partner, with her back to him and his hand on her shoulder. In the background is the mirror reflecting them. The scene depicted is one of everyday domesticity, but the gentle touch on her shoulder makes it intimate. In the mirror his eyes are shown to be looking at Pado, and so both the inclusion of his perspective and what is given through the objective perspective invites the viewer to take the place of the person expressing the affection rather than the one receiving it. This gesture shows how important small moments of romantic connection can be for those involved, whether they are the displayer or recipient of affections, for romantic relationships.

These are just a few of many works on display in Jewett, and they don’t even cover all of my favorites! If you need a study break, have some spare time, or are taking one last walk around campus before you leave for summer break, you should definitely visit Jewett to see all these works. 

By no means was “Douglas” a heavy show, but it did follow “Nanette”’s structure of using comedy to draw attention to how our society marginalizes people. It seemed that this was something that Gadsby wanted to take a step back from; at the beginning of the show she said she felt like it was owed, as the world was falling apart. Also, that those traumas had been processed. Most importantly, it seemed like she was in a better place personally compared to previous shows. She had gotten married in early 2021 and her wife Jenny — affectionately referred to by Gadsby’s nickname “Jenn-o” — was frequently mentioned throughout the show. In fact, its entirety was dedicated to their proposal story, even as Gadsby took multiple anecdotal detours. Despite the more stressful moments, including memories from an abusive relationship, the overall tone of the show pointed to her current joy. 

This tonal departure didn’t mean the end of the conversation about homophobic marginalization. Instead, by centering queer love and joy, Gadsby was displaying her resilience and growth. Though LGBTQ+ marriage was legalized in Australia in 2017, that didn’t mean homophobia was gone. It did show shifting attitudes towards acceptance, but not the end of homophobia. Her opening joke was about getting a shark cake so that a Christain bakery had to make a wedding cake for a gay couple without their knowledge. Though her clever thinking was funny, it showed one example of how the marginalization continues. Yet, it also showed how she was no longer engaging in self-deprecation, and instead is happy to be who she is despite not always being happy about the oppressive world she is living in. 

As usual, Gadsby has incredible body comedy and comedic timing. Despite breaking her leg and the limitations that it imposed, she was able to even find the fun in that with her cane Michael, making a pun out of the actor Michael Caine. She managed to engage with her props, which were three rabbits of different shapes and sizes placed on different parts of the stage. I say managed, because at one point she crushes one rabbit with a stool and stomps on it with her broken leg. As for comedic timing, she is excellent at responding to the audience. At multiple points she makes wisecracks about audience laughter, prompting another round of it. The best of all was when she was asking for a name for her ex-girlfriend to use throughout the show, and after multiple shouts created a garble “Shannon” was distinctly heard. Immediately Gadsby called it a “shit name” and then rolled with the punches.

Though I was laughing the majority of the show, I did leave feeling dissatisfied about the lack of art included. Maybe it’s the Art History major in me, but Gadsby does a great job of including art historical analysis into her shows, whether for poignant moments like Van Gogh’s sunflowers in “Nanette” or criticizing the names of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in “Douglas.” When I was waiting for the show to start, I found myself analyzing the three rabbits onstage and guessing what she might connect them to. I was disappointed to find that there was no connection with art to be made, especially considering the title of the show and the advertisement photo depicting her in likeness to an Athenian marble. Despite this disappointment, I can’t recommend the show enough.

The stage design situates Alison, played by Micah Fong ’22, in the center of the set, sitting at her work desk. This is where she remains for the majority of the musical, except for moments where she is hovering over the Small and Medium versions of herself to reflect back on her journal entries from those moments in her life, or during the song “Telephone Wire” where she steps down to drive with her father. Around her desk is the setting of her childhood home’s living room. The aesthetics are a testament to her father’s priorities: attempting to get their Victorian-era home on the National Register.  Though this aspiration is not inherently a bad one, it is the beginning of a pattern throughout the show on his focus of appearances and how they cover up what lies beneath, where Bruce attempts to “fix” things as a way to cover up for his homosexuality and project his anger towards his self outwards, whether that be the various homes he aims to restore or Alison’s gender non-conformity at different points in childhood. 

Alison’s placement divides the stage into two halves, which creates several triads throughout the musical, implying the connection between identities of those in the formation. At times, this is Alison and both of the younger versions of herself, and other times it is Alison, one of the younger versions of herself, and her father. 

Central to the show is identity and how it is formed over time, with a specific focus on the queerness of both Alison and Bruce and how differently the two interact with that part of their identity. The multiple triads formed over the course of the show create invisible crossroads and it is interesting to consider how these characters may be interacting with one another in that particular scene. 

Over the course of the show, Alison’s omniscient presence provides cutting remarks, gentle rebuffs, and self-aware commentary over the memories the audience is guided through. Though one might think with less dialogue the role would feel more secondary, Fong’s talent makes these quips both funny and poignant. They convey Alison’s adult wisdom, not just about her awkward childhood and young adult selves, but also about the abusive and predatory behavior that Bruce engages in and struggles to reconcile with, and they are able to strike that sweet spot between serious and self-effacing necessary for the role. Their singing also covers that emotional range, and I found Alison’s songs such as “Maps” and “Telephone Wire” were some of my favorites performed that night. 

Ella Stanley ’25, who played Little Alison, is tasked with having to sing and act to cover a wide range of emotions. She excels especially in those moments when Little Alison is shamed by Bruce into desperately trying to please him, such as when drawing her map for school or wearing a dress for an event. It was difficult not to cry, because you could see how Little Alison put aside her own personhood in order to please her father, and can only imagine how difficult it was for her to later on grapple with the internalized shame around her true self-expression.

Also incredible was Anna Kraffmiller ’24, who played Medium Alison. She captured the awkwardness and excitement that I and many other LGBTQ+ folks have while trying to figure out our identities during our young adult years. Her anxious physicality approaching the Gay Union meeting was perfect, and her excuse of “looking for the German club” as her escape was followed up by a mumbled “Danke” that elicited lots of laughs. There are other scenes where Kraffmiller embodies this joyous chaos well, but my favorite was while she sang “Changing My Major.” Though I favored the more emotionally devastating songs like “Welcome to Our House on Maple Avenue” and “Days and Days,” this was my favorite of the more light-hearted ones. 

Overall, I don’t have too many critiques of the show. I think that the director, Emma Wine ʼ24, achieved her goal. She brought such care and attention to how this musical would be run because she was aware of how meaningful this story was to many members of the Wellesley community, and had hoped to do it justice. Considering the outbursts of laughter, the entranced silences and even sniffles of possible tears I heard at times throughout the show, my guess is that I wasn’t the only one leaving feeling like I had a cathartic release. I can’t speak for anyone else, but this run did the show right by me. 

Directed by Emma Wine and starring Micah Fong as Alison, Ella Stanley as Little Alison, Anna Kraffmiller as Medium Alison, Kaiya Wilson as Bruce (Alison’s father), Paige Befeler as Helen (Alison’s mother), Annika Mathias as John (one of Alison’s brothers), Nico Decker as Christain (one of Alison’s brothers), Nora Cornell as Lovers and Ana Luisa McCollough as Joan. 

Next you’ll find N.E. Brown’s work. Brown grew up in the greater Pittsburgh area, and went on to earn her BFA in painting and drawing from Temple University and her MFA in painting and drawing at the University of Iowa. She takes a mixed media approach to art and currently incorporates painting, drawing, pyrography, and woodworking into her work to explore the connections between her personal experiences, U.S. history, and racial identity. In these pieces she explores what sanctuary means to her by incorporating sources of comfort such as family, spirituality and food. She has several portraits on display that center on familial affection and assert the importance of intergenerational connection. The central piece is “Sue”. It is one of her pyrographed pieces, where she used a wood burner to create the image on the padauk wood. The wood itself has a form that echoes the design of a steeple, and the portrait depicts a Black woman in three-quarters profile holding an infant whose eyes are downcast. Their posture recalls the Madonna and child image type, as well as highlighting the mother’s role in providing safety and comfort for her children. Though it’s not explicit that the woman is the mother of the child, the woman’s nails, earring, and hair beads are made from mother of pearl, whose namesake hints as such. Framing “Sue” is “Church Chairs”, which is a set of two chairs that also have Christain-design motifs. The top rails emulate the steeple shape, and the splat and cross rails create adjacent Lancet windows, like those of a Gothic Church. In addition to the portraits are numerous wooden spoons, signaling not just their usefulness in meeting one basic need people have, but also the comfort food can bring. Similar to how “Sue” is designed in order to evoke a steeple, so is the frame in “Spoon Sanctuary” that holds the spoon. 

Finally I looked at Brooke Henderson Stewart’s pieces. Stewart is an artist and educator who currently lives in the Boston area. She earned her MFA from the School of the Museum of Fine Arts at Tufts University and undergraduate degree in Art and Art History from the College of William and Mary. Stewart alternates between painting and woodcutting, using both to explore autobiographical subjects. Though Hinton’s and Brown’s art encourages the viewer to look at how they interact with one another, Stewart’s work demands it. She has placed woodblock prints parallel to the woodblocks themselves, creating several mirrors in her works. There are four woodblock prints present, with three of them being portraits while the other one being a scene of a diner. Each portrait represents someone she has socialized with during the COVID-19 pandemic and the intimacy she found in a one-on-one meeting. The carvings create movement within their stillness, evoking the personality of the subjects. The most striking to me of her pieces is “A visit with Nana,” where Nana is sitting at a table and lighting a cigarette with an ashtray, iPad, shopping list and couple $20 bills strewn on the table in front of her. In between the print and the woodblock is a mirror. A chair with an empty cigarette package and a print of cigarette butts rests faces the mirror, which evokes the absence and disconnection felt while making this woodblock. Furthermore, what’s left isn’t anything tangible related to Nana, just an image of her and the cigarettes. This portrait is my favorite of the three because it doesn’t just feel like the pandemic-caused social disconnect. Instead, it forces the viewer to confront the absences in their own life. Who were you able to see during this time, even if it was just through a screen? Who was lost? What did they leave behind? 

I highly recommend spending at least 30 minutes, if not an hour, considering what’s displayed in the gallery. There’s so much there that can be covered and what makes these works truly special are the personal connections you find within this collection.