There is a joke that should we ever run out of magazine ideas, since all anybody needs to do is choose a noun and place it after “The Politics of.” Our publication has had its fair share of such themes — “The Politics of Policy” (1983), “The Politics of Sex” (2005), “The Politics of Memory” (2014), to name a few — and there will likely be more to come.
No doubt there is value to the phrase “The Politics of.” Who can escape that which is political and politicized? But let’s not forget the alternative value gained when we place “politics” on the other side of the preposition. This new phrase reminds us that politics, no matter how big and self-evident the word is played up to be by legislators, by the media, and by other keepers of power, does not and cannot define itself.
Our theme for this magazine is “The Art of Politics.” It was pitched by none other than our Senior and Associate Covers Editors Liana McGhee ’25 and Nurayn Khan ’26. To use their language, this issue “explores how art functions as a form of expression, protest, and a driver of cultural change.” From fashion to music to performance, art has “held pivotal roles in the political conversation and the way people view one another.” McGhee and Khan write that “artists have been using their talents to hold a mirror to society” that reflects back its “triumphs and flaws.” Art lessens the distance between how things seem and what they are. It charts a map from ourselves to others and challenges us to go the distance.
When did art last move you? Perhaps as recently as yesterday a song hit you hard. Or a month ago you read the final sentence of a novel and choked up. Or a year back you sat stunned watching the credits to a film that so wholly transported you outside of yourself, and to this day you cannot put into words how those two hours made you feel and why. All of us have been moved. We are capable of being moved again. So why is it that what we understand to be politics with a capital P often does the opposite? Why are we deadened by rhetoric meant to arouse, and why is our governing attitude toward those who govern us ambivalence on good days and learned helplessness on bad ones?
Each author of our magazine turns to some form of art to engage these questions and ask still more of their own. They reason through what is political about art but also what is artful about politics and why both are essential to a humane and self-critical polity. Our contributors celebrate art while directing attention to the problems it creates and in doing so, remind us that to honor art is not to worship it, but instead to parse and probe and seek to understand what the person on the other side desired to communicate through colors, words, sights, and sounds.
“I’ll admit it,” Brian Jeon ’27 writes. “I’m a Lana Del Rey fan, or at least I was.” Jeon’s article “It’s Hard to Love You ft. Kanye West and Lana Del Rey” asks how consumers ought to engage with artists whose personal stances problematize their craft. What Jeon ultimately leans an ear toward is not a playlist or a soundtrack but the discomfort that arises when he must choose between a beloved song and a hateful belief. Vikram Kolli ’27 begins “Unveiling the Queer Renaissance: Beyoncé’s Recognition of Voguing and House Music” with the singer’s recent tour that “stands out amongst the sea of vibrant, colorful lyricism that is the rest of her discography.” His contemporary focus soon takes a historical turn as Kolli sheds light on the origins of ballroom culture that proved so formative in the aesthetic and musical ethos of the pop-R&B star’s album. In “Mural Arts Philadelphia: Public Art as a Conduit for Urban Transformation, Political Mobilization, and Community Building,” Makenna Walko ’27 spotlights pieces “created by and for the community” such as Meg Saligman’s “Common Threads” (1998) as well as Cesar Viveros and Larissa Preston’s “Women in Progress” (2001). Walko does the important work of reasoning through how murals can act as a “conduit for collective memory” while also expressing a “unique local identity.”
Anya Zhang ’27 traces a biography of Ai Weiwei to gain a clearer, fuller understanding of how and why the Chinese artist generates such consistent controversy. Zhang observes how across a wealth of mediums, the infamous creator maintains the “same punchy and in-your-face vocalization.” Her article “Ai Weiwei: Blurring the Lines Between Artistry and Absurdity” inquires into the civic function of works that outrage and disquiet. Though Weiwei’s creations “feed off absurdity and shock value,” Zhang argues, “his recurring messages of freedom reveal the genuineness behind his ground-breaking visions.” In her feature “The Pitches of Protests,” Mikalah Hodge ’27 asks, “How has protest music changed throughout American history, and why has music been such a powerful tool for social change?” Hodge zeroes in on musical terms that are often interchanged but actually hold distinct meanings: What defines a “tune,” and how might that be different from a “song,” and how do songs evolve into “rallying calls” that move nations? In the interview “Is Poetry Too Political?” Kendall Cooper ’27 speaks to National Youth Poet Laureate Salome Agbaroji ’27 about how the literary form might help constituents reclaim their lived experiences to enrich and engage in democratic discourse. “I strongly believe that poetry’s subjective nature is what makes it the perfect ground to talk about politics,” Agbaroji told Cooper. “I think democracy was invented to embrace subjectivity.”
Concluding our seasonal collection is an endpaper from former Community Engagement Director Chinyere Obasi ’24. An old friend of the publication, Obasi has also contributed more than 10 articles whose focuses range from funding the performing arts to satirical journalism. We are fortunate that an author with such an enduring commitment to the interplay between art and politics agreed to close us out.
As ever, heartfelt thanks to Liana McGhee and Nurayn Khan, our trusted Covers duo whose editorial aptitude and compassion know no bounds. Much gratitude goes to Managing Editor Fawwaz Shoukfeh ’24, whose steadfast commitment to our articles as well as the people who write and edit them has proved instrumental. We wish you all the best as the school year begins. Regardless of whether you are a student or not, it is our sincere hope that your days, weeks, months, and years are ones that hold art tight. Know that you are capable of creating it in some ordinary yet profound way each and every moment.
