Letter from the Editors

While in many ways, these past two semesters have resembled life before the pandemic, this is not the same school that we left in spring 2020, nor is this the same magazine.

Many of us are on campus again. Community is more tangible, immediate. There is shared physical experience. We watch the trees for a few weeks erupt like fire, then drop their leaves. We watch winter chill campus, slick it in ice. We watch buds break out like breaths, only for nine inches of April snow to send the idea of spring whirling. We watch melt and rain, flower and sunbeam. 

If we’ve made similar observations over the past two years, they’ve been observations of different spaces, ones separated by distance and time zones—even oceans. There is significance in experiencing the same weather, the same climate—being waylaid by the same snowstorms and indulging in the same warm oases.

It’s as if we’ve all finally let out a breath we didn’t know we were holding in. After two years, there’s something tranquil about being seated around a wooden table in the presence of people again, all eager to share their ideas and listen to what others have to say. Zoom left us disconnected and fatigued, burdening our education and our private lives, yet we’ve made it to the other side. We learned to adapt—eventually, to breathe—and as the most potent threats receded, let that moment pass us by.

But calling this a new normal ignores the reality that we’re still seeking steady ground. The pandemic is ongoing; work and life must respond to the conditions of public health. Our lives remain in a state of flux.

Over the past two years, Ithaca College has endured faculty cuts, scarcity, curricular change. Students have balanced their workloads with the mental tolls of isolation and crisis. These are not soon forgotten even while returning to work and class largely in person. Remote work is still a norm, and some are excluded from in-person events. But opening a Zoom room and bringing people to the table is a compromise we’re happy to make. In that same time, Stillwater underwent drastic change. With Issue 59, we shifted to remote work and digital publication. With Issue 60, we embraced those modes, but still felt the disconnection of pandemic life. Remote work could be lonely, and there was great distance between us and many elements of the project. Still, we found community where we could and released a vibrant work that spoke to the perseverance and resilience of Stillwater contributors, despite the adversity of COVID-related isolation.

We hope Issue 61 reflects a commitment to exploring the ongoing complexity of shifting times. Working in-person again has been an honor after spending so much time apart. Physically sharing spaces together allowed for honest dialogue and problem solving within Stillwater, things that were more difficult over Zoom. We managed to determine our weak spots and take action promptly, strengthening fall programming efforts and reimagining the Stillwater blog. Stillwater has always been about showcasing student work, and we’re still retoothing our methods for how to best do so. This growth is ongoing, and we anticipate continued change in the coming year.

We suspect that this shifting life is also what made it so easy to find a common theme in this year’s issue. In many of these pieces, you’ll find an element of the unnerving—gore, fear, and angst—but you’ll also find beauty, hope, and release.

While this magazine is made by and for Ithaca College students and is in many ways a product of what this community has experienced, we hope the art herein speaks beyond South Hill—finding resonance with parallel changes afield. There’s deep emotional vulnerability in our contributors’ work. They brought themselves into their pieces wholeheartedly, and this issue is a reflection of their responses to a changing world. We’re proud of the artistic explorations of our contributors and staff—how they’ve made meaning in a space of uncertainty.

Read, enjoy, and—most of all—take care.


Matthew Gardener & Lyndsey Honor

Co-Editors in Chief