Evren Durham ’30

Contributing Writer

Have you ever walked into the Cornelia Center and seen the giant colorful blobs that adorn one of the walls? Well, if you have, you may know that that piece is Sol LeWitt’s “Wall Drawing #849: Irregular Blobs of Color, 1998,” so calling them “giant colorful blobs” is actually not too far off from their given name. Presumably, like most people, I did not know this information, but I had seen that wall. This piece is absolutely one of its kind (according to the article online about it) but honestly, I had never taken much interest in it before my recent trip to Mass MoCA.

Mass MoCA, or the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art, is located in North Adams, Massachusetts and I was doubting why I had chosen to go when it was 10:45 a.m. on a Saturday and I was piling onto a bus for a 2 hour ride for an optional InterArts trip. The ride there, though, already had me changing my tune as we drove through the picturesque New England fall. Then, when we arrived, I knew this museum was going to be worth the wake up call.

Housed in an old textile factory, Mass MoCA consists of multiple buildings and the outside space surrounding them. Each and every corner I turned, the place seemed to get larger and the art seemed to surround me fully and completely. We began outside of the main buildings that comprise Mass MoCA where we saw an old building that had been turned into a soundscape area and when we reached the top floor, there was a balcony area. Attached was an old van that had been decorated as if it had become the home of someone after the apocalypse struck. Stepping into it was creepy, disconcerting, odd and kind of magical as I partially expected to find a man living there with the ways the floors were worn in and books were scattered about.

I thought that was going to be the oddest, coolest thing in that museum, but I could not have been more wrong. I will admit, I would never have called myself a fan of contemporary art before this museum. Don’t get me wrong, I think people should express themselves however they want, but the idea of a banana taped to a wall just has never called to me. Now, I’m a fan of contemporary art. I only spent a few hours there, but during that time, I walked in a hallway with lights strung up to mimic the milky way, went into a room that was truly pitch black (would not recommend doing that alone, that was scarier than any haunted house I have ever been in), saw a room with a smaller room in it with a smaller room in it with a smaller room in it until the room got so small you couldn’t really see it, listened as my voice echoed around me in a concrete pipe, played a giant trapezoid shaped string instrument called a trapezoidalmonochord (along with many other interesting instruments) and I sat on a slumpie to scroll on my phone as that is what the slumpie is designed for. And that was still not even half the stuff the museum had to offer.

One of the art pieces involved walls covered with drawings, shapes and colors; the artist’s name, Sol LeWitt, rang a bell to me, but I couldn’t remember why. When I got back to campus, I talked about this museum, all of it. Sol LeWitt and his walls full of shapes and colors came up. Only then did I learn we had a piece of his right here on campus. The wall full of giant colorful blobs is art, intentionally, and it’s Sol LeWitt’s piece. The next time I was in the Cornelia Center I really looked at it and not just because I knew I was writing this article. It made me want to go back to Mass MoCA: something about being in that place, seeing the art and being in that old factory made me begin to notice all the art that exists in even the most unlikely of places, including 114 Vernon Street.

So, with all that being said, I strongly suggest you go to Mass MoCA. If you really like those giant colorful blobs there are walls full of art like it. If you don’t like those giant colorful blobs there is art completely unlike them. Even if you feel completely impartial to any of this there is art you will like. I truly do think Mass MoCA has art for everyone. I know I will certainly be making that trip again.

Zeeva Haviland ’30

Contributing Writer

For the last nine months, the HartBeat Ensemble, a community theater based in Hartford, Connecticut, has called the Austin Arts Center on Trinity College’s campus home. Moving to Trinity’s campus in Jan. 2026, the 25-year-old company has made it its mission to make accessible art in the Hartford community and is “dedicated to creating provocative theater that connects our community beyond the traditional barriers of class, race, geography and gender.” From shows that address social justice issues to inclusive ticket pricing, the HartBeat ensemble strives to connect the community across traditional social barriers. 

“A Lesson From Aloes” is one of these shows. Taking place in apartheid South Africa, the show illustrates the harsh reality of life in a police state, consisting of 3 characters: Piet Benzuidenhout, an Afrikaner; Gladys Benzuidenhout, Piet’s English wife; and Steve Daniels, Piet’s friend and a black activist who was just released from prison under a banishment order. 

If you are looking for fast-paced entertainment, this show is not for you. However, if you are looking for a show that makes you think critically and addresses key issues of racism and policing, “A Lesson From Aloes” is for you.

While the first half of the show is extremely slow-paced and, frankly, a little dull, it does introduce the suffocating and paranoid atmosphere of apartheid South Africa. The seemingly endless time dedicated to talking about aloe plants highlights Piet’s struggle to find himself after being ostracized from his activist group due to suspicions of Piet being the police informant. Piet’s dedication to the aloes serves as his shield from needing to address his isolation and highlights his survival. The aloe plant is known for its ability to survive in extremely harsh conditions and parallels the rigid and oppressive system of apartheid South Africa. 

Despite the first half of the show being very drawn out and full of awkward silences, Brian Jennings’s (Piet) and Rebecka Jones’s (Gladys) performances were excellent and truly heartfelt. While watching Gladys’s mental breakdown and her husband’s heartbreak at his inability to help his wife, I could truly see the terror and long-lasting consequences of living through a police raid. 

Where the show truly picked up was in the second act when Godfrey L. Simmons Jr. (Steve) took the stage. As he entered the stage, Steve and Piet greeted each other; their joy and laughter were contagious across the audience. As Steve struggled to determine if Piet was indeed the informant that landed him in prison, the air on the stage quickly became uneasy. The tense discussions between lifelong friends highlighted the paranoia and distrust; these were caused between friends due to living in a police state with constant raids and oppressive racial classifications. The passion and fear that Simmons was able to convey through Steve illustrated the harsh reality that many parents faced due to the oppressive regime, where parents were forced to leave the only place they had ever known to protect their kids from state-sanctioned violence.

While not the most entertaining show, “A Lesson From Aloes” tackles critical issues relating to Apartheid South Africa and state repression and racial violence across the globe. Although taking place 60 years ago, many of the socio-political and psychological issues addressed in “A Lesson From Aloes” are still relevant today.

Sophia Luneva ’30

Contributing Writer

Dashiell Sigmond ’30

Contributing Writer

Fall is officially here with the return of the Pratt Street Autumn Festival in the historic district of downtown Hartford. Pratt Street is a pedestrian-only street filled with restaurants, retail stores and bars, making it the perfect place for a community gathering. The festival ran from Oct. 3 to Oct. 4, featuring live music, local vendor stands and free face painting for community members.

Hartford’s local vendors lined the streets throughout the weekend, selling handmade jewelry, candles and fall-inspired ceramics. The street was full of the Hartford community enjoying a lovely fall day while walking in and out of the open shops on the street. Hartford Prints, Gentle Bull Shop and Bloom Bake Shop were among the most popular stores for people to visit. The Gentle Bull Shop had an amazing five dollar bin among other incredible vintage finds, handmade jewelry and intricate ceramics; Hartford Prints was full of autumn-inspired candles, stationery and tote bags. The Bloom Bake Shop had a line spanning the entire block waiting for their artisanal pastries and coffee. 

East Hartford’s School of Rock band performed during the festival. The band covered classic fall songs, such as a cover of “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles, along with some original songs crafted by the students, both in and out of school. The afternoon continued with other artists taking the stage, including Elena Foster, who is a local Connecticut-based folk singer and songwriter.

Overall, the festival was a huge success, drawing out several families and locals to Pratt Street, embracing the changing season and taking part in community activities.  

Drew M. Hoidal ’29

Arts & Entertainment Editor

On Thursday Oct. 1, the Live DJ series held its first event in Underground Coffeehouse (UG), with an open tab and a set by DJ Marcus McGregor ’30, a freshman student at Trinity and a member of Trinity’s Temple of Hip Hop. UG, located under Mather Hall, was full of energy as students enjoyed music, conversation and complimentary drinks. The event brought a new sense of enthusiasm to Underground, where students could order a free drink of choice, dance and mumble song lyrics while connecting with fellow attendees. They experienced how different music can transform a familiar place into an environment where people can connect beyond their typical social circles. 

Orchestrated through the Trinity Temple of Hip Hop, the Live DJ series, a series of events designed to bring students together through live DJ sets, in efforts to connect and celebrate art and culture. 

Temple of Hip Hop is a student run organization that offers many opportunities for Trinity students to explore Hip Hop culture and express their creativity, giving students the chance to share their music in an uplifting positive environment. Trinity’s Temple of Hip Hop, is one of Temple of Hip Hop’s many national chapters, which receives funding and support to help its mission of preserving and documenting hip hop history. Through the academic school year, Temple of Hip Hop offers a variety of events for students to learn about the history of Hip Hop, connect with other vibrant minds and elevate Hip Hop music as a way for people to become inspired.

The International Hip Hop festival is one of the many activities Trinity’s Temple of Hip Hop organizes. The event allows students to collaborate and share their artistic talents while getting the opportunity to learn about Hip Hop artists from around the world. Individuals can come together through listening to the variety of diverse forms of expression at the International Hip Hop festival. 

When Temple of Hip Hop began, its meetings took place in the UG on the Trinity Campus, where club events became a party hub for students. Since then, the chapter has expanded its energy beyond UG creating more opportunities for students to collaborate and share their work. 

Andreia Soares ’27, co-president of The Temple of Hip Hop, has been involved with Temple since her junior year. She was first introduced to the Temple of Hip Hop through her Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority sister who had served as the president of Temple. Soares was given a position on the e-board her junior spring and has made many efforts to help expand Temple’s reach as well as increase student involvement. Since her beginning of the position, she’s been enthusiastic about the club, promoting the organization to the Trinity community. Last spring, Soares recalls her time at the International Hip Hop festival as one of her most memorable experiences with the club, an event that brought community members together to listen to different artists and experience Hip Hop’s influence across cultures. Soares recalled a moment that occurred after the festival: there was an after party, where Temple of Hip Hop members got to come together to celebrate the unifying power of music, recognizing the thoughtful planning behind the event and the club’s outstanding promotion.

The Temple of Hip Hop does not just introduce students to Hip Hop culture, it builds a space where individuals can build relationships, feel a part of a creative community and discover new perspectives. For Soares, her admiration for the club is to welcome new members that come from different backgrounds and experiences. She emphasized that the club is about “finding taste and style” through the different people you meet and the variety of music tastes and perspectives the club challenges its members to engage with. In an interview with the Tripod, Soares was asked why the club serves as a crucial part of our Trinity community, in response, she stated, “In this digital age where everything is on your phone, messages, social media, music and art, the club creates an outlet for individuals to engage with art in a physical way. DJ’s will mix tapes on vinyls, so seeing this form of creation takes you off your phone and immerses you.” 

DJ McGregor also shared a similar perspective on the value of experiencing music in person. McGregor has explored his passion for DJ-ing since his early years of High School when he was introduced to the music style by a few of his friends at The Hotchkiss School. McGregor claims since his introduction to DJ-ing he’s used it as a platform to share his musical tastes and bring individuals together through his love of music. McGregor mixes house music, rap, R&B and country, blending different genres to create an inclusive atmosphere for listeners to discover new sounds. Through his spectrum of music genres that he uses, he aims to create an atmosphere that makes students and all listeners more open minded. When asked about promoting the club, McGregor stated that he’s been able to promote the club through flyers, word of mouth and sharing with his friends the impact that this club has. Students could feel the energy of DJ McGregor’s music. Through events such as the DJ series McGregor aims to create an atmosphere where the impact of music encourages people to spread out and reaches all sides of campus. McGregor aims to create a space where people can congregate in a setting that cultivates a sense of community, welcoming artists and open minded individuals looking to expand their music palette. 

The club will hold the DJ series through the course of the next few months where different types of people come, listen and bond over music and culture. The event will take place on select Tuesdays and Thursdays. For the full schedule of upcoming DJ series events, follow Temple of Hip Hop on Instagram at @trinityhiphop.

Finnegan Howard ’30 

Contributing Writer

A lot of the cinematic public discourse this year has been devoted to the question of whether or not film is an inherently political artform. Kicked off by director and head of this year’s Berlin Film Festival jury Wim Wenders asserting, “We have to stay out of politics because… we are the counterweight for politics,” this discussion has lingered over the course of the festival circuit and has served to frame every film premiering along the way as a response (or lack thereof) to the current moment. Looking at this year’s New York Film Festival through that framework, the 64th edition of the festival has not failed to meet the moment or shy away from the conversation at all. In the introduction to the festival’s program, artistic director Dennis Lim writes, “Our slate is full of reminders that cinema has a unique ability to reflect and make sense of the world. You could take almost any cross section of the lineup and come away with a vivid picture of what our present looks, sounds, and feels like.” As a result, the outside world has never felt like such an overbearing presence in Lincoln Center’s theaters, a space once defined through its escapism, and I’ve seen audiences respond to it in funky ways. On one hand, I’ve found audiences more willing to tackle a diverse slate of films than previous additions; but on the other hand, I’ve found an audience that at some point can be marked as too excitable. Whether it’s raucous standing ovation or incessant laughter throughout stretches of serious social dramas, this year’s NYFF audience is one that seems determined to “create moments” to aid an artform threatened by AI and looming mergers. As a result, it feels unavoidable to look at this year’s films from a lens other than that of the outside world, and doesn’t the context of its existence make a piece of art political? 

The Revivals section, composed of new restorations of old films, has often been regarded as the most overlooked section of the festival. But, during the festival’s opening weekend, the festival received an event only rivaled by Godzilla itself: the North American premiere of the 4K restoration of Ken Russell’s 1971 film The Devils. Finding a second life along the festival circuit, it’s hard to imagine why audiences might connect with a film about a leader with a ridiculous hairdo leveraging the institutions of fate as a means of gaining unprecedented control of political institutions. “Ken always said this was his one political film,” his widow Lisi Tribble remarked in an introduction for the film, and it’s hard to imagine a film mixing the sacred with the sacrilegious as anything but. Certainly it was taken so at the time, as American and British censors demanded that two scenes of the film (one “perverting” communion, the other reckoning with the violation of a nun’s autonomy throughout the film) be cut so the film could be widely released, but those scenes have been reinserted to remarkable effect in this new restoration. The restoration has also served to lend the film a newfound timeliness in its crystal-clear visual fidelity reflecting our present moment with such urgency you wouldn’t think it was a 55-year-old film. “The thing that it means to each generation is different,” British critic and overseer of the restoration Mark Kermode observed in a Q&A following the film, and I’m excited (and scared) to see how the film evolves upon subsequent revisits. 

A good flipside to The Devils is also found in Revivals in Malayali filmmaker John Abraham’s 1986 film Report to Mother, which fails to capture its political backdrop with any sense of urgency. The film follows Purushan, a college student on his way to Delhi who discovers the dead body of a man he recognizes along the way and gets sidetracked in the quest to rally the man’s community and inform his mother of his death. Intercut along the way are brief glimpses at the man’s life, his previous political beliefs (or lack thereof) and the political violence he witnessed that drove him to take his own life. Fusing documentary footage and recreation of class revolts across various villages throughout, Abraham attempts to contextualize Purushan’s quest as a rallying cry for communities to come together in response to their material conditions. However, the splicing of these different timelines fail to evolve the film in any meaningful way, leaving the film to ceaselessly repeat itself about the various successes of communities uprising in an uninspiring attempt to call the audience to action. Left with no political engine, the film’s narrative is left to sputter on with the same scene of Purushan’s group meeting someone new, informing them of the man’s death, and having the new person join the group over and over again in a drab attempt to portray the process of rallying. All of this repetition serves to render Report to Mother dramatically inert due to a lack of trust in its audience, which is something you don’t want when your film opens with voiceover directly calling for membership of your artistic movement. 

Speaking of dramatically inert: Godzilla Minus Zero! As someone who adores Godzilla Minus One, it brings me no joy to report that Takashi Yamazaki’s follow-up to his Oscar-winning kaiju blockbuster fails to live up to the original by any metric. Taking place in 1949, two years after the events of the original, the film follows former kamikaze pilot Koichi and his partner Noriko’s life with their adopted daughter being upended by the emergence of a new monster: King Ghidorah. With Ghidorah actively evolving and the Americans breathing down their necks, Koichi and the team from the first team are left with no other choice: fighting fire with fire and bringing back Godzilla. Using the monsters as a muddled allegory for the arms race and resistance under American occupation, Yamazaki’s script fails to imbue the melodramatic core of the film with any sort of emotional propulsion, the very thing that made Minus One so special. As a result, Godzilla Minus Zero has no counterbalance to the effects-driven monster battles, leaving the film running on the fumes of the original. While not entirely meritless (I found the film’s subversion of genre expectations remarkably inventive), Godzilla Minus Zero feels like empty calories compared to the buffet of the first, and I can’t help but leave with a bad taste in my mouth as a result. 

Much of the little dramatic tension in Minus Zero is derived from Minus One’s expression in the belief of life persevering, which I found to be articulated much more succinctly in Hong Sang-soo’s Nowhere to Lay My Eyes. Hong’s 26th film to play NYFF’s Main Slate (breaking the record previously set by Jean-Luc Godard) follows Sang-hee, an experimental filmmaker, coming home for the first time in a long time and being confronted by her mother questioning her way of living and her documentarian stepfather. The film is thus propelled by the tensions bubbling at the surface as Sang-hee attempts to convince her mother of the validity of her way of living as the mother attempts to impose her life on Sang-hee, trying to draw her from Seoul to their small island with promises of land and running a restaurant. Further complicated when Sang-hee meets her stepsister, a painter bankrolled entirely by her parents while Sang-hee struggles to make ends meet in Seoul, Hong paints a portrait of the societal tension between pursuing the life you want versus the life that brings you comfort and who is or isn’t allowed to pursue one life or another. One of the reasons for Hong’s prolificacy at the festival is due to his efficient means of production, regularly writing, filming, and editing his features within his month, and you can feel that efficiency in the breeziness of Nowhere to Lay My Eyes’ 72 minute runtime. Hong’s minimalist approach to the camera allows for events to unfold without fuss, giving the film the breathing room to meditate on these relations so eloquently. Even if it gets tripped up in its didacticism from time to time, Nowhere to Lay My Eyes is a beautiful grace note of a film ____. 

Also in the Main Slate is another film by a South Korean festival regular about the unspoken tensions sewn by class division featuring a main character as a documentarian: Possible Love by Lee Chang-dong. A decade in the making and partially based on Lee’s experience reckoning with what it means for his camera to be in the spaces of striking workers, Possible Love follows the family of Mi-ok (Jeon Do-yeon) and Ho-seok (Sul Kyung-gu in the hollowed-out performance of the festival so far) as they attempt to move on from the emotional, physical, and financial trauma in the aftermath of mass layoffs until a documentarian and her rich boyfriend intrude on their life. Beyond the superficial comparisons to Nowhere to Lay My Eyes, Possible Love shares many of the same strengths and weaknesses as Hong’s latest, as a first half insistent on driving its point home and setting up framework fails to truly move into a realm of its own. However, the second half that follows is so delicate and revelatory that I’m left to wonder if the ends justify the means. Like the documentarian, once Lee gets the camera out of the way of his subjects, Possible Love is able to strike gold in capturing how material conditions inhibit our ability to truly connect. After all, how can one be romantic when the threat of company and state violence is constantly breathing down their back? How do you reckon with living with people who have never even been confronted with that threat? What role does the camera work in breaking down or creating barriers in our ability to connect? Possible Love so effortlessly glides between these contemporary issues, confronting the viewer with such a prescient portrait of today that it feels like it’s being live-streamed. 

Similarly prescient (although nowhere as nearly contemporarily set) is Markus Schleinzer’s Rose, a fable about control over the narratives of our life. In the mid 1600s and the aftermath of the Thirty-Years’ War, Rose (played by Sandra Huller) is a woman who has assumed the identity of her fallen male comrade coming to a small, rural village to claim a deed to farmland in his name. After being accepted by the village and in an attempt to grow their farmland, Rose makes a deal with a figurehead of the community for partial ownership of a river in exchange for marrying his daughter, and the story unfolds from there. In a time where women were treated as property and outright forbidden from owning property, Rose’s story, although fictional, falls into a lineage of thousands of other women throughout the time period who adopted the identity of a man. These women’s motivations are varied, whether it’s to serve for their country or the greater level of freedom allowed by trousers, and Huller’s performance as Rose captures the peace all of these women seek in contrast with a society attempting to strip them from it at every point. As a result, what happens in the third act is haunting as Huller’s Rose stares the viewer down as everything occurs around them, confronting them with the absurdity of how little has changed and underpinned in the countless stories of assumed identities left unrecorded. Like The Devils (and, to a lesser extent, Godzilla Minus Zero), there remains truth to be mined about our present in stories about our past, and Rose proves that in the portrait of the consistent disenfranchisement of marginalized groups. 

For a story that can’t be set in any other time than today, look no further than Sebastian Brameshuber’s London. In a time where society has never placed a greater level of importance on therapy but meaningful connections are few and far between, London paints a portrait of the people left to carry the burden of society’s stories: gig workers. As retiree Bobby (played by actor Bobby Sommer) shuttles passengers from all over Europe between Salzburg and Vienna, Bobby serves as a human bounce board for people and their stories, prompting the passengers to go further and further into themselves. From this focus put on the passenger’s stories, the viewer learns little about Bobby directly, only catching real glimpses of Bobby’s life in cutaways between episodic encounters with passengers. As a result, every piece of information the viewer gains about Bobby throughout the conversations feel like small wins, strung along by the intrigue Bobby excavates from his passengers’ lives, all while the threat of a global conflict boils over in the background. If I’m to be frank for a second, conceptually this is extremely similar to Wenders’s Perfect Days, which is a personal favorite of mine, and London is so clearly indebted to Perfect Days that I was always in the bag for this one (there’s even a direct allusion via a shared needle drop). However, London more than stands on its own merits as a film that knows what it is, keeping its sublime drama to the confines of a car that has more than enough fuel in the tank to go for miles. 

However, the most important film I saw at this year’s festival was NAZA, directed by Yuval Abraham and Rachel Szor, the Israeli directors of No Other Land. A term used by the Israeli military as code for the estimated amount of civilian casualties in the bombing of Palestinian households, NAZA details the tools of systematic oppression and surveillance used by the Israeli military in carrying out the genocide of Palestinians told through the anonymized confessions of Israeli military officials. Set against the backdrop of Tel Aviv’s rooftops as military officials describe the destruction of entire Palestinian cities off-screen, NAZA uses the contradiction of these officials’ removal from the devastation they’re causing to highlight the tragedy of the continued dehumanization of Palestinians. Abraham and Szor offer no remorse for these officials, their faces obscured to prevent them from being humanized as they so casually confess their crimes against humanity. While the information disclosed in the film offers is often not new (all of the information in this film has been rigorously fact-checked by multiple sources and has already been reported on in Abraham’s journalistic work), what NAZA offers is the intervention of the camera in highlighting the dissidence of the day-to-day life unfolding in the background with the cold descriptions of Palestinian surveillance. While Israelis sit in their homes without fear of being watched, Palestinians are under the threat of constant surveillance and violence for the act of existing, a crime perpetuated by the same military leaders who tell the world not to believe the testimony of the Palestinian people recording the destruction of their communities while they admit to it in the comfort of anonymity. In that way, shots peering into windows of the day-to-day life of Israelis without their consent serves as NAZA turning the camera of the security apparatus back on the people benefitting from its use in the ethnic cleansing of the indigenous population to the land they’re living on. 

The response to NAZA has rightfully brought into question why this film has received such a platform while Palestinian stories haven’t. For example, Palestinian films Conversation with the Sea and Citizen Osama also premiered at the Venice Film Festival and currently lack distribution; NAZA won a prize and has already begun to self-distribute itself in US theaters. At NYFF itself, Edward Said: Between Worlds, a documentary about the Palestinian-American scholar who spent his career advocating for Palestinian sovereignty, also doesn’t have distribution of any kind. However, universal to the response of these stories is Zionist backlash and casting doubt on the validity of their claims. On opening weekend, trucks with the text “UNVERIFIED” flashed in front of the theaters showing NAZA, with Zionists rallying on the streets rallying against the validity of the film’s testimony. I believe that’s why the producers of the film placed such importance of the rigor in the journalistic process behind the film when introducing it, as time and time again these stories have been attacked on the validity of their claims. But how can you deny the existence of a crime when its perpetrators testify to its perpetuation?  

At NYFF, usually when a screening ends it’s met with a round of applause. When my screening of NAZA ended, there was complete silence; the man next to me openly sobbed through the second half of the film. How can you not cry for a crime being actively committed that the world attempts to pretend isn’t happening? 

Zeeva Haviland ‘30

Contributing Writer

Are you looking for something to do on Thursday afternoons? I would like to introduce you to Lunchtime Thursdays: free 30-minute organ recitals on the first Thursday of every month at 12:45 p.m in the Trinity Chapel, highlighting organists from around North America.

On Oct. 1, 2026, I happily sat down in the chapel to watch Mary-Katherine Fletcher, the Minister of Music at Christ Church in Needham, Massachusetts. Walking in, I thought: how interesting can an organ be? I sat down wondering if this 30-minute recital would drag on for what felt like an eternity. However, I was very quickly and happily surprised by the unique and lively music echoing through the chapel. As I listened to Fletcher, I was mesmerized by the beautiful yet haunting melodies that filled the air.

Traditionally, the organ is thought of as a boring instrument that accompanies church services; however, I was quickly captivated by the versatility of this seemingly boring instrument. It wasn’t just an instrument that played simple church melodies, but an instrument that was able to fill the chapel with complex and intricate melodies that transcend time. It is an instrument that puts the entire orchestra in the hands of the organist, allowing it to feel grand, haunting and dramatic while simultaneously being light and elegant.

As the chapel filled up with over 30 members of the community, I was struck by the love and appreciation of organ music connecting individuals of all generations together. From Trinity students to retired members of the community, this was an event that connected all ages through a love of music. The excitement in the air was evident as individuals walked through the door, pausing their days for a recital. I watched friends meeting up at the chapel, spending time together, laughing and updating each other on their lives while enjoying the beautiful music being played. This was so much more than a simple recital; it was a place of community and connection.

The program consisted of pieces from James H. Rodgers Sonata No. 1 in E minor and René L. Becker’s Toccata in D, Op. 32. As I listened, I felt transported into a fairy tale, looking for magical fairies around the corner as I danced around a ballroom. The energetic and majestic melody transfixed the audience. The room vibrated with the organ’s power, and the audience became captivated, with many closing their eyes and swaying along. The chapel was enthralled by the musical battle between a haunting low pattern and the light, energetic, high-pitched melody.

In an interview for the Tripod after the recital, I talked with Fletcher, and she expressed her love for the versatility that the organ offers, stating she loves its power and its ability to play softly and elegantly. To her, “everyone should experience an organ concert at least once.”

While the Lunchtime Thursday performances are significantly shorter than the Albert Schweitzer Organ concert that happened on Sept. 26-27, these short recitals introduce the beauty of the organ and offer students and the community the opportunity to connect over a love of music. Future lunchtime performances include Sarah Kennedy on Nov. 5, 2026, Madison Thompson on Feb. 4, 2027, John Abdenour on March 4, 2027, and Ted Babbitt on April 1, 2027. Next year’s Albert Schweitzer Organ Festival will be from Sept. 24-25, 2027.

Drew M. Hoidal ’29

Arts & Entertainment Editor

The Austin Arts Center (AAC) provides Trinity students with numerous opportunities to experience and engage with artists, offering a variety of exhibitions, performances, and events through the school year. On Thursday, Sept. 24, the Fellows- Work by Select Alumni of the Studio Postbaccalaureate Fellowship Program was put on display in the Widener Gallery located on the first floor of Austin Arts Center. The exhibition invites Trinity students and faculty to observe the works created by artists connected to the Trinity community. On Oct. 1st, a reception was held in the main lobby of AAC where the artists got to discuss their works and answer the questions of prospective student artists. The lobby was filled with melodious background tunes and snacks and drinks were included.The Gallery will continue to display the works of these artists until Oct. 30, offering a diverse collection of pieces that showcase many artistic approaches and perspectives, ranging from sculptures to projections. 

Fellows’ exhibit combines the works of three different Trinity college Studio Arts Alumni, featuring art by Weixi Zhang, Sydney Smith and Ciara Rubi. Rubi holds a long history with art work, her work being shown at Yale school of Art, The study Hotel, as well as Maysas room. Rubi is a guest artist in residence at Southwestern Oregon Community College. Her work featured in the gallery is derived from polaroid autoportraits, and it’s inspired by concealment and discovery, where she embodies both the elusive hider and seeker, with the camera serving as the opposing force. Her work uses tactics of cutting, peeling, layering, and scratching to make the pieces look obscured. The gallery also holds work from Sydney Smith, who holds an undergraduate degree from Wesleyan University. Her work showcased at Ball and Socket Arts and was also featured at Ely Center of Contemporary Art. Smith’s art presented in the Widener Gallery is created through carving wood into sculpture, recognizing that wood and/or stone resembles bodies that hold stories. Smith transforms these organic elements to question traditional structures, pushing their physical properties and symbolic meanings to their limits. Lastly, Weixi Zhang’s work is featured in the Gallery. Zhang, born in China, holds a BA in Computer Science and Studio Arts from Trinity College. Zhang’s works across installation, performance and image making, intervening in areas where she remains perpetually unsettled. Her research explores disapproval and hydrological memory. She creates situations that confront these forces, drawing on contingency, sound, and data. 

Together, the artists demonstrate the range of approaches that can emerge from different techniques and materials, highlighting distinct perspectives and how creative processes shape work. Upon entering the gallery, visitors are met with a small table that displays directories for the art exhibit. The information in these packets provides the titles of pieces featured in the gallery and information about the artists. When visitors walk into the gallery, Weixi Zhang’s “Washed Ashore, 2024” is projected onto one of the white walls. The projector displays a 3 channel video portrayal of different ocean schemes. The projection is beautiful and ambient, capturing the natural essence of a slow moving landscape. Sydney Smith’s “Letter to the Editors, 2025” is another expressive visionary work that sits in the exhibit. The Sculpture is composed of ambrosia maple, combining natural materials with an unconventional design. 

The Fellows exhibit showcased in the Widener Gallery presents a variety of works, each created through different approaches to materials, composition and visual expression. At the front of the gallery  Weixi Zhang’s Washed Ashore  illuminates the space with projected images that blur the line between stillness and motion. Zhangs’ Survival Swimming Manual is also displayed, featuring illustrations and notes that blend sketches of nature with organized information. Zhang even left copies of the piece at the reception, for students to take home, extending her work beyond the gallery. Other pieces suggest movement through connected shapes linked by thin lines or intertwined materials. Sydney Smith’s DNR, for example, connects hemlock bark, creating a relationship between natural material and structure of the work. Ciara Rubi’s “Diary Writing no.1” combines text and drawing, beginning with the line “I once spoke to my friend Margeret of my desire to convert to Bootyism someday;..” Alongside the text are two hand-like drawings, creating the impression of a personal record or diary entry. The pairing of text and drawing makes it feel as though the visual poses as a record. Overall, the exhibit is intriguing and challenges observers to think about nature, movement, and expression. The gallery encourages viewers to stop and think about the meaning each piece holds.

Julianna Williams ’30

Contributing Writer

“With great power comes great responsibility,” and “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” calls into question what exactly it means to have “great power,” whether it can be classified as “good” or “evil,” and how society determines who wields it. 

Marvel’s latest film, directed by Destin Daniel Cretton, maintains the characteristic blend of intense action, emotional depth, and lighthearted humor, although this time a darker tone of solemn despondency pervades the atmosphere. Four years have passed since “No Way Home”, and Tom Holland’s potent portrayal of the physical, mental, and emotional growth of our beloved Peter Parker since the conclusion of the previous film makes it clear that Spider-Man is no longer the squeaky-voiced, mischievous teenager we once found so relatable. 

That is not to say the character is not still strikingly humanized and real—in fact, he may be more so as he grapples with amplified versions of real-world struggles. Spider-Man pulls audience sympathies with his insistence on being “fine,” while suffering loneliness, heartbreak, sensory overstimulation, physical pain, self-doubt, and resistance to change that leads to repression of his own power.

This repression of power is echoed in Sadie Sink’s exquisite performance as Jean Grey. Her portrayals of rage, grief, sorrow, and vulnerability can be seen as heart-wrenching reflections of real power dynamics as she struggles to maintain autonomy in a world where certain systems and institutions would prefer to own, control, and suppress what she is capable of. 

Characters like Ned, Yelena, and Frank provide the comedic relief to this emotional tension, although not every joke lands perfectly to the critical eye, and some of the obvious product placement is more humorous than Spider-Man’s awkward moments (do that many people even own Samsung Galaxies?).

The film is well-paced and not fully time-linear, as flashbacks and memories help to flesh out some of the events between the last scene of “No Way Home” and the exposition of “Brand New Day.” As Spider-Man swings through New York, sweeping shots of the cityscape and immersive close-ups pull viewers directly into the onscreen action. With some hallmarks of Cretton’s work from “Shang Chi and the Legend of Ten Rings” revealing themselves in increased martial-arts based stunt work, “Brand New Day’s” fight scenes rank among Marvel’s most engaging and dynamic.

The film certainly hits home in a world where people are growing increasingly isolated from one another in fundamental ways. Perhaps it’s the current mental health crisis that makes “Brand New Day’s” depiction of telepathy–control of thoughts through self-doubt and negativity–so emotionally captivating.

With isolation recurring as a melancholic theme throughout the film, the persistent loyalty and companionship between our favorite characters is all the more heartwarming. As viewers witness such acts of sacrifice and support, they leave grateful for their own circles of friends and family, impacted by the film’s reminders that no one, not even Spider-Man, can do everything on their own.

Whether you’re a die-hard Marvel fan who will be able to spot every comic book easter egg, an enthusiast of fast-paced action, are looking to root for the characters you’ve fallen in love with, or are simply wondering what all the fuss is about, “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” is well worth a watch.

Alex Gervais ’28

Managing Editor

On Saturday, Sept. 26, I attended the 29th Annual Albert Schweitzer Organ Festival Hartford. As someone whose organ experience extended only to going to Midnight Organ on Halloween last year and “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” at Fenway (shoutout to the incredible Sox organist Josh Kantor), I had no idea what to expect for the night. Would I sit in a half-empty chapel listening to a 20-minute piece of choral music that had seemingly dragged on into its eighth movement, or would I experience something truly special?

I’m happy to say it was the latter. The Organ Festival is one of those events that only comes around once-in-a-Trinity. This year was the 29th time the festival has run, and was the 10th anniversary of it here at Trinity after it transitioned out of its previous home at a Wethersfield church. As Carolyn Kuan, music director for the Hartford Symphony Orchestra (HSO) put it in the pre-concert panel: “it was time for the festival to go to college.” 

The primetime performance was billed as “Music in a Gothic Space,” an accurate description of the night’s event. The true star of the show was the organ, expertly played for much of the show by none other than Trinity’s own John Rose Distinguished College Organist, Director of Chapel Music and Artist-in-Residence, Christopher Houlihan ’09. The Hartford Symphony Orchestra, directed by Carolyn Kuan, was the perfect foil for Houlihan’s commanding organ. The two worked in symbiotic harmony, almost mirroring a call-and-response during parts of the program. 

Music played on the organ is the type of music that, ironically, has to be seen to be believed. It’s music worst listened to alone in your bedroom on a pair of three-year old Airpod Pros. It’s music best listened to in the Chapel sitting on a pew built in 1935. The grandness of the organ itself makes it a commanding musical storyteller. It both dominates and underscores, leading the show but assisting seemingly every other instrument. 

The program they played consisted of pieces by Horatio Parker and Steven Sondheim, seminal composers in American classical music. They also played a piece by Samuel Barber, where the organist performs a cadenza pedal solo. Their rendition of Sondheim’s “Everybody Says Don’t” from “Anyone Can Whistle,” was particularly impressive, bringing the most raucous cheers of the night as the program approached intermission.

Following intermission, the winner of the Festival’s Biennial Young Professional Competition, Nathan Ringkamp, played a piece by Rachel Lauren unaccompanied by the HSO. The HSO followed his performance by playing a couple of pieces by Barber without accompaniment from the organ. Both of these performances, while absolutely performed technically well, felt emptier without their respective counterparts. It felt that the solo organist was missing the pep and rhythm brought by the orchestra, and the orchestra was missing the grand, menacing sound of the organ. 

The crowd reacted to this schism accordingly: the same people who seemed to hang on to every note of Houlihan and the symphony’s earlier performance began to seem distracted, their eyes cast not towards the band but instead gazing up around the Chapel or down at their phones. For those still iron-focused on the orchestra it seemed like a different kind of attention, a forced, polite attention; not the gripping excitement Houlihan’s organ had inspired in the crowd. 

But then, Houlihan returned. As he strided back up to the organ for what he earlier referred to as a “planned encore” the Chapel became abuzz with the excitement of organ yet again. As he set up his sheet music the crowd whispered in anticipation, they sat up a little bit straighter, as if they already understood what was coming next. 

During the pre-show panel he delivered the quote that became the title of this piece: “I love when music makes us chuckle a little.” A chuckle is an apt description for the night. While even in Trinity’s oh-so-grand chapel playing swelling, emotional music, the symphony still had fun. At points they giggled in unison, seemingly all amused with a clever musical choice made by Houlihan or with a crowd member’s delayed, ice-breaking applause at the end of their second piece. This is the beauty of the organ festival; a group of passionate people coming together to celebrate an oft undercelebrated art form, but doing it with the joy and zeal that can only come from true appreciation of artistry. 

Next year’s festival will be from Sept. 24-25, I sincerely encourage all Trinity students to attend. I previously referred to this event as happening only “once-in-a-Trinity,” because it’s the kind of event we can only have here. There is no Albert Schweitzer Organ Festival at Wesleyan. There is no Opus 2536 at Hamilton. Bates does not employ Christopher Houlihan. The Hartford Symphony Orchestra does not play at Middlebury. We get unique experiences here, ones that may not be the most memorable of our time at school, but exemplify what the liberal arts can really be. This was one of those experiences. 

Cam Guendner ’30

Contributing Writer

“Amrum,” the 2025 war drama from famed filmmaker Fatih Akin is, to borrow from the film’s own language, “ein Meisterwerk”— a masterpiece. 

The film, based on the childhood memories of Hark Bohm, a German screenwriter, follows a twelve-year-old German boy, Nanning Bohm, played by Jasper Billerbeck, during the final months of World War II. After Hamburg is bombed by the Allies, Nanning, his two younger siblings, aunt and pregnant mother move to the isolated island of Amrum in Northern Germany. Nanning spends his days farming potatoes and fishing to support his family, as well as taking part in the National Socialist youth program by the wish of his mother. As the war comes to an end and Nazi Germany’s defeat is imminent, Nanning’s mother, a supporter of the Third Reich, is emotionally paralyzed by the collapse of the regime. In hopes that he will liberate his mother from this depressive state, Nanning scours his depleted and austere town to find his mother’s favorite meal, honey and butter on white bread. 

The overarching thematic question that the film dives into is the idea of individual conscience versus collective/inherited beliefs. Although Nanning is born into a fascist household, he is completely unaware of the atrocities associated with his family’s political affiliations and consistently proves that he himself is not full of hate but instead, only indoctrinated into the cause. I personally found the film’s simplistic story-telling more thought provoking than other more action-driven WWII media such as “Saving Private Ryan” or “All Quiet on the Western Front.” The film did not dig deep into the trenches of the frontlines, it instead examined the effects of strong political influence as well as the preservation of human morality through the perspective of a young boy. 

Throughout the film, Nanning displays everlasting persistence to hunt down the ingredients that will serve his mother’s hunger. This relentless pursuit speaks to the idea of innocence and guilelessness children possess. Although there may be barriers to feeling sympathy for Nanning due to his family’s status, his personal pure and kindhearted actions brought to my mind the idea of humans being inherently good, yet subconsciously corrupted by their environment.  In my interpretation, the purpose of the film was not to garner sympathy for the Axis powers or to rationalize their ideology, but rather to convey the damaging effects of indoctrination and highlight how easily conscience can be silenced by loyalty, shared beliefs, and inheritance. 

The film’s multi-layered plot and captivating yet contentious concept can be wholly credited to the co-producers of the film, Fatih Akin, Herman Weidgel, Lara Förtsch and Ann-Kristin Bardi as well as its script’s co-authors Fatih Akin and Hark Bohm. “Amrum” was initially conceived and had planned to be directed by Bohm himself, as it was derived from his experiences as a child; however, as his health declined he asked former student, Fatih Akin, to take over the directing duties. Akin initially had reservations about taking over the project as he felt that he was not close enough with the screenplay, yet after spending time with the material he was able to grow a personal connection to the film and direct it in Bohm’s honor. Before his passing in 2025, Bohm shot a brief cameo that can be seen near the end of the film, giving the famed director, screenwriter, actor, and mentor one last time in the spotlight. 

As to the cinematic elements of the film, I was pleasantly surprised at the visual execution. With the majority of shots being filmed on the island of Amrum itself, Karl Walter Lindenlaub’s cinematographic style displayed the vast shorelines and beautiful windswept plains of the isle perfectly. It felt as if I was alongside Nanning on his quests, only with the addition of subtitles. Yes, this film is entirely in German, but that did not deter me from walking into Cinestudio with my elementary knowledge of the language and walking out saying: “acht von zehn” — (8/10).