A Look into Student Film at Columbia. By Liam Curedale Illustration by Em Bennett In September, Kallen Fenster, CC ’28, a fresh-faced Columbia sophomore walked onto campus. This past summer, he’d realized that he wanted to pursue a career in entertainment law. He loved film, and he loved law—as much as anyone can. So, Kallen started looking around. Barnumbia has no shortage of student-run film production groups. Studio 292, Girls Who Film, The 1 Train is Delayed, CLIP, and ot

A visit to the re-opened Studio Museum in Harlem. By Aliyyah Hamid Illustration by Julie Shi A fluorescent light sculpture forms the following couplet: “Me/We.” The “We” sits below “Me,” as if reflecting it. The original poet was none other than Muhammad Ali, who was asked to “give us a poem!” during a speech at the Harvard commencement in 1975. Give us a Poem is the title of the neon light sculpture by Glenn Ligon that sits yards above its audience, mounted in the lobby of

One Man’s Search for Fauna in the Most Unlikely of Places. By David Kramer Illustrations by Em Bennett Every day, thousands of cars drive down Broadway, the average 1 train carries 7,000 passengers between dawn and dusk, and tens of thousands of pedestrians hurry across Manhattan. It’s a busy, noisy city. But in the basement of a pet store on Broadway, a tortoise sleeps. His name is George, he’s 28 years old, and he thinks you should feed him strawberries. George leads an a

On today’s agenda: An attempted bribery scandal, Response to ICE and Glass House Rocks, and a coming out party. By Rocky Rūb Well, well, well. It has officially happened. CCSC has become so afraid of The Blue and White ’s attentive readership and astute observations of political malpractice that they have resorted to arse-kissery and bribery. Of course, council members have always been keen to praise my good looks and striking wit—something they’ve been doing since before I s

On love as a constant. Introductions are for small talk; let me write about the weather. This winter, New York City has been coated in the deepest snow that the class of 2026 has seen in their four winters at Columbia. Though at first the white layer seemed as permanent as a blank page, it didn’t lie idle for long. Snowmen sprang out of benches. Snow angels appeared on the lawns. Municipal dump trucks donned plows and struggled through graying streets. During the first big

Or why I will never find love on reality TV. By Evan Rossi Illustration by Isabelle Oh I recently applied to be cast on the next season of Love Island USA . Ever since I saw the genuine, everlasting look of love in the eyes of Season 7’s Amaya and Bryan upon winning the show (and $100,000), I knew I would do whatever it takes to become America’s next sweetheart. Eighty-seven questions later—including, “What is the most difficult thing you have ever been through?”—I submitted

Applying Self-Disclosure to Columbia’s Couples By Jack Bradner Illustration by Selin Ho In 1997, psychologists Arthur Aron et al. published their seminal study, “The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness: A Procedure and Some Preliminary Findings.” To investigate how self-disclosure affects relationship-building, Aron et al. devised a set of 36 questions to probe closeness between unacquainted participants. Two of the participants in Aron’s study were married s

Unhardening the heart . By Althea Downing-Sherer Illustration by Iris Pope This Valentine’s Day, as some of us face the perils of online dating or despair over unrequited crushes, Achsah Guibbory urges us to reframe love: not as conquest, but as devotion. Achsah Guibbory is a professor of 17th-century English literature at Barnard College, specializing in John Milton and John Donne. She has published multiple books, including Returning to John Donne; Christian Identity, Jews

By Hannah Lui Illustration by Selin Ho Turtle-necked at the Kawai where he learned to waltz&rag. And compose and doodle and dance but I only hear Scott Joplin’s Maple Leaf tortured from the copper When I think of him here At the piano I am looking at his post-op face on my phone. Not as bad as I expected Mom says When he left two days ago the last time I saw the face she bore, his&this hits me now Now, Fog bruising purple, his nose is not the same Thick hanging hea

By Lynn Wilcox You are tired. You sweat from your eyes while slumber makes your breath a whistle, I brought you here, my restless traveler, under sterile light, in hotel bathrooms, on cold porcelain, my sole splits. I cry out, but your mind is far away, reaching for some immaterial idyll. Silence enters through the window and I want for you to listen, so I steal a moment from your slumber, unconscious, allowed. I go to sleep with a dirty mouth and unquiet mind. Too early.

By Camille Pirtle We can’t cook. That is our first attempt at endearment to the college girls at the bar. They flip their honey-blonde hair over their shoulders and consider us, shy looks on their faces. They have seen Americans before, but never quite like us. Two of us. Gray sweaters and glasses, brown belts from Abercrombie bought before the trip, twelve-seventy-five-each and no returns. Two girls that dress like boys. Big white fluoride grins. They don’t have that here. N

A lovely moment I recall. By Eva Spier Illustration by Jiaying Geng In 1825, Alexander Pushkin, widely regarded as the father of Russian poetry and memorized by legions of pupils to this day, joined Russian socialite Anna Kern at her aunt’s Trigorskoye estate near Mikhaylovskoye to work on his manuscript of Eugene Onegin . He became infatuated with the woman in a matter of weeks, who had been unhappily married to General Yermolai Kern by ways of an arranged marriage since th

On small moments of love that lie solely within a New York City park. By Sayuri Govender Illustration by Jacqueline Subkhanberdina In each of the parks around campus are pockets of us—people-watching with our neighbors, sharing inside jokes, and breathing out with the trees. I have dozens of different trail loops memorized, and I know exactly which one I need when. For a long, contemplative moment, I’ll walk down to the bend near 99th where Riverside Park meets the Hudson R

On a priori truth and looking at the moon. By Duda Kovarsky Rotta Illustration by Justin Chen Read while listening to Billie Holiday's I’ll Be Seeing You. Ever since I spent a semester reading Kant's Critique of Pure Reason for class, that Prussian virgin's words have loitered in my mind. The thick Critique weighed heavy on my bag from class to class, and on my peregrinations to see the woman I love. Over the course of our medium-distance New York-Boston relationship, we

On college love, temptation, and heartbreak from a Muslim-American perspective . By Sara Omer Illustration by Kathleen Halley-Segal I exist in a rift between two vastly different worlds, straining to hold them together. The first world was introduced to me by my parents. I can only reach this one through focus and expert dissociation. I awake from my slumber in the middle of a silent night while everyone around me is snoring and dreaming. I splash unnervingly cool water on

Some names have been changed, some haven’t. By Rocky Rūb Illustration by Em Bennett Three and a half years ago, I started making a playlist for every semester. It’s a maladaptive practice, in which I imagine that each 14-week stretch of time makes up a television season, and that each playlist makes up its soundtrack. I’m the main character, obviously, but a couple tracks focus on my friends, the featured cast members. There are times that I actually can’t listen to the playl

How to drink from the heart. By Iris Eisenman Illustration by Justin Chen In anticipation of a date, I watched my friend, who never smokes, tuck a cigarette into her purse. When I asked her why, she told me it was her first date routine. Something about the small ritual gave her a comfortable distance from the moment, like someone else was experiencing the night in her stead. I immediately recognized her desire for a switch to be flipped, for romance to exist in a compartment

On relationships, labels, and keeping love alive . By Ana Sorrentino Illustration by Iris Pope The names in this piece have been changed to respect the sources’ romantic privacy. Upon reading, I’m sure you’ll understand why. In high relief against the outer wall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, white birds bathe in shallow pools of melted snow along the plaza’s edge. In soft crowds they stretch wings, pivot, and stare. Two take off flying around in a frantic chase to th

A love letter to the U.S. Mint’s newest retiree. By Luke Zinger Illustration by Isabelle Oh In my hometown upstate, there is a large plastic fish head whose five-foot wide mouth juts out from the carpet. The fish is actually an exhibit in my favorite childhood museum, and every few months from ages four to eight, I would look forward to making a wish while dropping a coin down its mouth. I never remembered to bring a coin myself, so I would plead for my parents (or grandpare

Stories from college, Paris, and among the oranges. By Kate Sibery Illustrations by Nini Vilac For a long time I told the story as follows: my parents met at a Halloween party in college, my mom was dressed as a farmer in denim overalls and my dad wasn’t dressed up as anything because that is just typical of him. It has since been clarified that my parents knew of each other before then because their respective roommates—Jen and Brady, who are married to this day—were dating.