Division of Arts and Humanities

Degree finally in hand, dancer leaps back onto 91�� stage

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 01 May 2025 22:11:47 +0000

Degree finally in hand, dancer leaps back onto 91�� stage Rachel Sauer Thu, 05/01/2025 - 16:11

Tim Grassley

91�� alumna Jessica Fudim was two courses away from graduating in 1997; 26 years later, she’s earned her degree

When Jessica Fudim left the 91�� in 1997, she was two courses away from graduating. Despite being so close, she felt stuck in an unhealthy cycle of signing up for and withdrawing from her final degree requirements. Something needed to change, and she decided it needed to be her studies.

“I’ve learned as a parent, you can only do so much and sometimes you have to cut something out or make something smaller on your plate,” she says. “So, I went to the safe space of being near my parents (in California). But I felt a hurt in my heart about it.”

Fudim went on to have a vibrant career as a dance performance artist, creating and performing original work across the United States. An entrepreneur and, with her husband, a parent of two kids, she owns and operates two businesses: Jessica Fudim Dance and Jessica Fudim Pilates. Despite her successes, her unfinished degree felt like a shadow—an unresolved experience that she privately grieved.

Jessica Fudim portrays Medusa in her dance-theater solo "Venomous." (Photo: Peter Ruocco)

Fudim is not alone. 91��’s Office of Data Analytics notes that each year, an average of 23 students who needed to enroll for only one or two semesters return after five years or more to earn bachelor's degrees. Despite the relative frequency of people returning to the university to finish their graduation requirements, it still felt to Fudim like an impassable hurdle. Then, in spring 2024, after exchanging emails with 91�� friends, faculty and staff, Fudim decided it was time for her curtain call.

“My kids are 12 and 14, and I do feel like I want them to see me finish. I want them to know that I did that.”

A college experience across state lines

Fudim (DnceBFA’24) grew up in Sonoma County, California, where she developed a love for dance. In high school, her dance instructor, Lara Branen, invited Fudim and classmates to attend the summer-long 91�� Jazz Dance Workshop, which Branen co-founded. Many of Fudim’s classes were taught in 91��’s Theatre and Dance Building, including performances in the Charlotte York Irey Theatre.

Fudim fell in love with Colorado and 91�� specifically. “It was totally transformative for me,” she recalls. “It helped crystallize this knowing that I wanted to dance—that I am a dancer.”

After graduating from high school, Fudim enrolled at the University of California, Irvine, which she attended from 1991 to 1993. She didn’t feel at home in Irvine, though, and transferred into 91��’s Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) in dance program in 1994. There, she thrived and was often identified as an example student, full of talent and drive.

Unbeknownst to many of her classmates and faculty, though, Fudim’s balance of school, work and personal life began to fray from the outset of her education. While her father paid her tuition, Fudim at one point held three part-time jobs to cover her living expenses, including the now-closed Espresso Roma café.

“I wasn't living lavishly,” she admits. “I lived on beans, rice, pizza and free croissants from the café. I’m a worker bee by nature, but back then especially, I didn't do a good job applying my work nature in the right direction. I spent more time working at my jobs than doing my academic work.”

Because Fudim transferred from California, some of her classes from Irvine did not count at 91�� for credit. She found herself on a different graduation timeline than her peers in the BFA program, a social challenge that grew as more friends graduated and left town.

“I think I had another semester or two of work to do,” she says, “but I started to check out. I completed my BFA (capstone) performance, but I withdrew from some classes. I’m so embarrassed that I got Fs in a couple of classes. But I didn’t have the skills to know how to ask for help—to say, ‘I’m struggling and I’m not sure what to do next.’”

Fudim went back to California in 1997, hoping to complete her degree by finishing a few classes at a local community college. Those attempts did not work out. She also tried distance learning but withdrew. Eventually, Fudim moved on.

Medusa (portrayed by Jessica Fudim) with her children Pegasus and Chrysaor in "Venomous." (Photo: Kyle Adler)

“It felt like a bad break up. It felt sad—unresolved. I haven’t been back to 91�� since then.”

A phone call leading to an academic plan

After returning to California, Fudim decided to invest fully in her dance career and, over the next 20 years, experienced tremendous success as a solo artist and with her ensemble company, The Dance Animals. She held several dance residencies, co-directed The Experimental Performance Institute (EPI) at New College of California and, with the late Dwayne Calizo, co-produced, choreographed for and performed in the multimedia performance series “Crash Cabaret: Where Queers Collide” at San Francisco’s Roxie Theatre.

Her most recent solo show, Venemous, which reimagines the myth of Medusa, debuted to critical acclaim, and she considered bringing the show to Colorado and 91��. She initially contacted Erika Randall, professor of dance and a friend, about the possibility of creating an alumnus event.

After sending her initial email, though, she felt compelled to follow up. “I sent a second email that said, ‘I want to be transparent—I never fully graduated from CU. It's something that I've wanted to do, and I do feel really motivated at this point in my life to complete that degree. But I just want you to know that I can’t come to 91�� as an alumna. I'm not. I haven't graduated.’”

At that time, Randall was the College of Arts and Sciences associate dean for student success, and part of her duties as dean included overseeing one of the academic advising units that helps students return to 91�� and complete their degrees. Randall remembers reading Fudim’s email and decided to call.

“When we talked, she said, ‘I had no idea how much not finishing my degree had held a shadow over me and how much it would mean to finish it,’” recalls Randall. “I got really excited and said, ‘You should come back. You should come to our graduation. You should do the performance you had written to me about performing.’”

“That was definitely a turning point for me,” says Fudim. “She is so warm and genuine and so non-judgmental. It was this healing gift to just have her open her arms like that. I didn't even feel at that point that I needed to be courageous. It just felt like I was so excited to do it.”

Randall connected Fudim with Dawn Fettig, an experienced academic advisor with a deep understanding of 91��’s historic curricula and degree requirements. As part of her work with special populations, Fettig helps students figure out what courses they need to complete degrees.

To determine how close Fudim was to graduation, Fettig reviewed her transcripts, the university’s old “Permanent Record Card” and handwritten notes included in Fudim’s file. After combing through university documentation, Fettig recreated Fudim’s academic record.

“If I use the transcript as a chronological record, I can see what made sense for a student's progression in their degree,” notes Fettig. “For example, what might make sense for this student to take to complete the requirement? And is there a substitution?”

Fettig emphasizes that the college never waives graduation requirements, and she works hard to maintain the integrity of degrees the university confers. “The 91�� degree means something to our departments, to our faculty, to our staff and to our students,” says Fettig. “We figure out a way to look at their completed work and ask if it meets the spirit of the requirements as they were set at the time.”

For Fudim, this meant completing a geography requirement as part of 91��’s Minimum Academic Preparation Standards (MAPS) and a final departmental stage performance. Fettig found a course in California near Fudim’s home that would count for the MAPS credit. They also explored marking her degree’s stage performance requirement as fulfilled by her career experience and then substituting the required credit with another dance course she had completed at 91��.

“In Jessica's case, because her dance degree is a performance art, I did have to go back to the department and say, ‘This is a professional working in the field. I think she’s probably met this stage performance requirement,’” says Fettig.

What would Medusa say if she had a chance to speak for herself?

Jessica Fudim’s dance-theater solo, Venomous, looks at the classic Greek myth from Medusa's perspective and moves her story beyond that of a snake-headed monster.

What: Venomous

When: 6:30 p.m. June 5 and 6

Where: The Pearl Ballroom, 2199 California Street in Denver

Learn more

“She didn't have the class, but she has the experience. She also has other classes that we can use as a substitution” for the major’s requirements.

Together, Fettig and Fudim created a plan that fueled Fudim’s motivation to complete her degree. “Having someone who is in a position of knowledge like Erika and Dawn, who say, ‘Yes, of course you can do this. We have a way for you to do this. And this is awesome.’ I just trusted them—I believed them,” says Fudim. “It shifted my outlook.”

Graduation and healing

While Fudim did have the motivation to tackle her coursework, she still had to juggle a full schedule. “I have two kids and I run two businesses,” notes Fudim. “I do all of my own admin work, and my bookkeeping. My husband works the opposite schedule so that we can tag-team childcare. When I needed to study, I had to plan it.”

Fudim’s mother regularly covered childcare to make room for Fudim to complete her coursework. Many days, her family created a homework club in which they could complete their assignments around the dinner table. This reframed the time needed to finish coursework as an opportunity to connect through shared experiences. While Fudim is happy she received an A in her geography class, the grade plays only a small part in how this experience affects her.

Fudim officially completed her degree and graduated in fall 2024. The experience has widened what she believes possible, and she’s thrilled for fresh opportunities to continue making art, performing and teaching dance. Notably, she will return to Colorado this summer to perform Venemous at the 2025 Denver Fringe Festival June 4-8. While staying in Colorado for the show, she plans to visit 91�� for the first time since leaving in 1997.

“My dear friend and former CU Dance BFA classmate, Kate Weglarz (Thorngren) will be flying out for the show and to go walking down memory lane with me in 91��,” says Fudim. “I'm excited to return to my roots in Colorado, and to share where I am now as an artist.”

Finishing her degree brings a sense of resolution and a lesson in persistence. “I feel like the primary reason I completed my degree was to create healing,” says Fudim. “It wasn’t closure. It’s opened me back up.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about theatre and dance? Show your support.

91�� alumna Jessica Fudim was two courses away from graduating in 1997; 26 years later, she’s earned her degree.

Traditional

White

Top image: Medusa (played by Jessica Fudim) welcomes the audience in "Venomous." (Photo: Kyle Adler)

Recognizing a century of boats against the current

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 23 Apr 2025 19:17:08 +0000

Recognizing a century of boats against the current Rachel Sauer Wed, 04/23/2025 - 13:17

Collette Mace

The Great Gatsby remains relevant for modern readers by shapeshifting with the times, says 91�� scholar Martin Bickman

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

The final words of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel, The Great Gatsby—published 100 years ago this month—are among the most known and appreciated in American literature.

Martin Bickman, a 91�� professor of English, notes that the intentional vagueness of The Great Gatsby helps readers of all generations connect with the characters.

And according to Martin Bickman, a 91�� professor of English, this line and the novel’s conclusion reflect the age in which it was written and neatly ends a novel that seems to capture the American psyche.

But why is The Great Gatsby considered the Great American Novel? Not because it’s great or because it’s American, Bickman explains—although it is both. This novel has remained relevant from generation to generation because it shapeshifts with the times, continuing to carry themes that Americans are bred to notice.

Questions of the American dream, wealth, class standing and ambition are central to American values in both 1925 and today. And while these themes look very different to the modern American, Bickman says the intentional vagueness of the novel helps readers of all generations connect with the characters.

To understand this, Bickman, a CU President’s Teaching Scholar who has taught a course called American Novel, cites “reader response theory,” a framework he emphasizes is critical in the study of literature. According to reader response theory, the reader of a text to take must take an active role in constructing the meaning within the text; if readers look only at a novel through the perspective of the author, that neglects much of the text’s meaning.

For this reason, no text can be interpreted the exact way by two different people. Readers approach texts differently as a result of their position in the world, and the experiences that have shaped them inform their understanding of what they read. The text then becomes a blank canvas for what readers project onto it, Bickman says

Seeing ourselves in Gatsby

What does this have to do with Gatsby? According to Bickman, the title character is just two-dimensional enough to serve as a perfect projection screen for readers of the novel. He’s mysterious, allowing the narrator, Nick Calloway, to cast his own assumptions about the world and the wealthy onto him, as well as vague enough to allow the reader to project their own internal thoughts and biases onto him.

As well as having characters that reflect the reader in personality and perceptions, The Great Gatsby also reflects classic American messages that are relevant today.

Because of his intentional ambiguity, Gatsby as a character can reflect what the reader thinks of many different things, including the elite, the rich and even the quintessential American dreamer.

This is how The Great Gatsby becomes a chameleon, remaining relevant in era, despite its age, Bickman says. As well as having characters that reflect the reader in personality and perceptions, the novel also reflects classic American messages that are relevant today.

The green light on Daisy’s dock, for example, represents the unattainable hopes for the future that stem from the inability to transcend the past. This feeling is still present, and most likely always will be in a country that believes in the possibility of a glowing future as long as we just work hard enough to get there—such is, in essence, the American dream, Bickman says.

It also showcases the all-to-frequent pain of the American dream. Although Bickman says the billionaires of today had no equal in Fitzgerald’s time, the uneasiness surrounding the callousness of the rich is on full display in Gatsby. Daisy, for example, named for the beautiful and delicate flower that Gatsby sees her as, is just as cruel and selfish as any of the men around her. She was the one driving the car, after all.

However, as she comes from “self-earned” money, and as someone who has seemingly “won” at the American dream, does she get a pass for her selfishness? In a way, she seems to, at least for the moment. And as time moves on, and the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer, it seems that the original questions of whether the rich can be callous changes to whether the rich can be cruel—a key difference in how the world works, according to Bickman.

“It’s a real pathology now,” he says, “I mean, these people are cruel. The richest of the rich in the 1920s were nothing like today’s billionaires.”

So the lessons of The Great Gatsby remain relevant, Bickman says, suggesting that modern readers should take a deep look between the lines and wonder what Gatsby can show us about ourselves.

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about English? Show your support.

'The Great Gatsby' remains relevant for modern readers by shapeshifting with the times, says 91�� scholar Martin Bickman.

Traditional

White

Top image: Warner Bros.

Holocaust victims to be memorialized on campus

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 16 Apr 2025 17:23:18 +0000

Holocaust victims to be memorialized on campus Rachel Sauer Wed, 04/16/2025 - 11:23

Holocaust Remembrance Day, or Yom HaShoah, to be observed by a public reading of the names of Jews killed in the Holocaust

Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day, will be observed on campus again this year with a public reading of the names of European Jews murdered by the Germans and their allies during the Holocaust.

Weather permitting, the reading will take place on Thursday, April 24, from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. at the Dalton Trumbo Fountain Court in front of the University Memorial Center.

The event’s organizers encourage the campus and broader communities to participate in the readings. Prospective participants may sign up here.

The U.S. Congress established the Days of Remembrance in 1980 as the nation’s annual commemoration of the Holocaust. The United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., which opened in 1993, leads the nation in observing Days of Remembrance and encourages observances throughout the United States.

Holocaust Remembrance Day

What: Public readings on Yom HaShoah

When: Thursday, April 24, from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m.

Where: Dalton Trumbo Fountain Court in front of the University Memorial Center.

The main event takes place at the U.S. Capitol, often attended by the U.S. President. In Israel, the Holocaust Martyrs’ and Heroes’ Remembrance Day (Yom HaShoah in Hebrew) is a national day of commemoration on which the 6 million Jews murdered in the Holocaust are memorialized.

It begins at sunset on the 27th of the month of Nisan, the first month of the Jewish calendar, and ends the following evening, according to the traditional Jewish custom of marking a day. Established in 1953 by a law from the Knesset, Israel’s parliament, it falls close the anniversary of the 1943 Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

The central ceremonies, in the evening and the following morning, are held at Yad Vashem, Israel’s official memorial to victims of the Holocaust.

During Yom HaShoah ceremonies in the United States, Israel and elsewhere, people read the names of Jews murdered by the Germans and their allies during the Shoah.

“The events of the Holocaust are given meaning only by remembering the individuals who died during that time,” Rabbi Sharon Sobel writes. “We gather as a community, we remember the names of those who died, and we affirm their lives by how we choose to lead our lives. So, names, indeed, are very powerful. ... we honor those who came before us and those who perished during the Holocaust by giving our names—and their names meaning through our actions and aspirations and the way we fulfill them.”

The 91�� event is presented by the Program in Jewish Studies. It is co-sponsored by the 91�� Department of History, Department of Women and Gender Studies and Center for Humanities and the Arts.

For more information on the Days of Remembrance and Yom HaShoah commemoration, please contact Professor Thomas Pegelow Kaplan, the Singer Endowed Chair in Jewish History, at thomas.pegelow-kaplan@colorado.edu.

“In our rapidly changing domestic and global political situation and the various devastating ongoing wars, especially in Israel and Gaza, these commemorations have again taken on yet a different meaning,” Pegelow Kaplan said.

“This event will also once more amount to a small contribution towards addressing charges of antisemitism (‘structural’ or not) that are still leveled against CU not only by right-wing non-Jewish and Jewish groups, but even by officials in or close to the federal government.”

Pegelow Kaplan noted that April 24 is also the anniversary of the start of the Armenian genocide, “and we will most certainly mention it and other mass crimes and mass death, especially in Gaza/Israel.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about Jewish studies? Show your support.

Holocaust Remembrance Day, or Yom HaShoah, to be observed by a public reading of the names of Jews killed in the Holocaust.

Traditional

White

Voices of the Andes: Sharing Quechua stories and culture through modern media

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 16 Apr 2025 14:21:08 +0000

Voices of the Andes: Sharing Quechua stories and culture through modern media Rachel Sauer Wed, 04/16/2025 - 08:21

Cody DeBos

In new audio storytelling project, 91�� scholar Doris Loayza works to preserve the traditional tales and lore of the Peruvian highlands

In the highlands of Peru, Andean cultures have thrived for millennia. There, Quechua, the most widely spoken indigenous language in the Western Hemisphere, is more than just a means of communication—it’s a medium of cultural heritage, stories and traditions.

As a predominantly oral language, Quechua has historically been underrepresented in modern media. To bridge this gap, Doris Loayza, a teaching assistant professor in the 91�� Latin American and Latinx Studies Center, is on a mission to preserve and revitalize Quechua storytelling. Her project, “Producing and Distributing Audio Stories in Central Quechua of Peru,” aims to capture the voices of Quechua speakers and share their stories with a broader audience.

Doris Loayza (center, brown jacket), a teaching assistant professor in the 91�� Latin American and Latinx Studies Center, is leading a project to preserve and revitalize Quechua storytelling.

By recording these stories in audio form, Loayza and her team aren’t just connecting with millions of native speakers; they’re also honoring the oral traditions that have kept Quechua alive for centuries.

“We have so much to share and contribute in our own language, because our languages are the repository of our knowledge and our ways of relating with the world,” she says.

Connecting heritage and modern media

Across the Andes—primarily in Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador, with smaller pockets in Columbia, Argentina and even the United States—some 8 to 10 million people speak Quechua. For Loayza, Quechua is more than just a language; it’s a connection to her heritage.

Preserving Quechua stories and traditions is deeply personal for her. Growing up in the central Andes of Peru, she learned the Central Quechua variety from her mother.

“I always loved hearing and telling stories in Quechua,” she recalls. “Growing up, we always listened to the radio, especially the local radio. Today, I still love radio, and now podcasts.”

While earning a master’s degree in Latin American Studies at NYU, Loayza focused her research on Quechua radio in the Andes and learned the Southern Quechua variety. After graduating, she discovered the Colectivo Quechua Central, a volunteer group of native Quechua speakers who publish an online newspaper to promote reading and writing in Central Quechua.

“I reached out and proposed the idea to make audio versions of their newspaper stories, focusing on local cultural topics like food and identity, and then sharing them in a podcast format to distribute to radio stations in the central Peruvian Andes and on social media,” she explains.

Grant supports language education

Doris Loayza, teaching assistant professor at the Latin American and Latinx Studies Center and affiliated faculty of the Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies, along with co-project directors Joe Bryan, Leila Gomez and Ambrocio Gutierrez Lorenzo, has won a two-year, $149,925 National Endowment for the Humanities grant to develop course modules and educational resources about Quechua and Zapotec language and culture as part of efforts to expand and strengthen the Latin American Indigenous Languages and Cultures program.

“The group welcomed the idea, and thanks to support from 91��’s Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies, we recorded the first episode this summer in Peru.”

The challenges and joys of storytelling

The lengthy process of recording and distributing audio stories in Central Quechua began with a discussion of where to perform interviews—and what to talk about. For the pilot episode, Loayza and the Colectivo settled on stories about tuqush, the Quechua word for “fermentation.” Tuqush also is an important traditional food in the central Andes, prepared from potato pulp or maize.

“We started in Lima, where thousands of migrants from the central Andes speak the language and are fervent consumers of tuqush,” she explains, “which is known as the penicillin of the Andes because it is a natural antibiotic.

“We got off to a great start because, during our first interview, we were eating tuqush while we were recording, which made the interview really intimate and enjoyable.”

She later traveled to Chavín de Huántar in Peru’s Ancash region, the site of one of the most ancient cultures of the Andes, to reconnect with members of the Colectivo and record nearly 20 more interviews.

“We have so much to share and contribute in our own language, because our languages are the repository of our knowledge and our ways of relating with the world,” says Doris Loayza of her "Producing and Distributing Audio Stories in Central Quechua of Peru" project. (Photo: Doris Loayza)

“One big challenge was finding time to get together because the members of the Colectivo have their own jobs and commitments where they live,” Loayza says.

The team also ran into some pleasant “trouble” when their arrival in Chavín coincided with the first day of a weeklong fiesta.

“I had just started an interview in Chavín when the brass band arrived,” she recalls. “Of course, we had to stop and dance with them at the entrance of the town.”

That wouldn’t be the only memorable moment of the trip. In her hometown of Llamellin, Loyaza interviewed the couple who rent her parent’s farm in the highlands.

“He told me that he still makes tuqush there, but that it was hidden because people used to steal it. He gave me instructions on how to find the site of a stream where potatoes were buried in a hole beneath the water,” she says. “I was excited to find this place on a hot sunny day in the highlands because it was on my father’s land. It meant a lot to me personally.”

After completing the interviews, Loayza and members of the Colectivo began editing the recordings and distributing them to local listeners.

“I learned so much about food, vocabulary and their storytelling style,” Loayza says. “The Andean people, especially Quechua women, are great storytellers. They are so proud to tell their stories.”

Sharing Quechua with everyone

With the successful launch of their pilot episode, Loayza and the Colectivo aim to continue editing and distributing the recorded stories, making them accessible to a wider audience of Quechua speakers.

The Quechua audio stories will also play a role in educating the next generation of students at 91��, Loayza says: “With Professor Leila Gómez, we are working on developing a new curriculum to include the Central Quechua variety of these podcasts in our classes and teach it along with the Southern variety that we currently teach.

“Being able to offer both varieties to our students will enrich and expand the cultural understanding of the Quechua culture.”

Loayza adds that she hopes these audio stories will inspire others in Peruvian highland communities to start their own recordings, further preserving the language and its cultural significance.

“It is so important to connect and learn from other indigenous languages and cultures,” she says. “We all have similarities and particularities. Everyone on this team is excited to share their knowledge, enthusiasm and time so that this project continues.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about Latin American and Latinx studies? Show your support.

In new audio storytelling project, 91�� scholar Doris Loayza works to preserve the traditional tales and lore of the Peruvian highlands.

Traditional

White

Art and transformation are inherently connected, prof says

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 08 Apr 2025 16:02:54 +0000

Art and transformation are inherently connected, prof says Rachel Sauer Tue, 04/08/2025 - 10:02

Bradley Worrell

For artist and professor of printmaking Melanie Yazzie, making art is about much more than creating something aesthetically pleasing

For Melanie Yazzie, professor of art practices and head of printmaking in the Department of Art and Art History at the 91��, art and transformation are intrinsically connected.

That’s because she describes her art as being much more than just about creating aesthetically pleasing work—it’s a medium for sharing social, cultural and political experiences shaping the lives of native peoples in the United States and beyond. Her artwork—which takes the form of paintings, printmaking, sculptures and ceramics—is shaped by her personal experiences, as well as events and symbols from her Diné (Navajo) culture.

For Melanie Yazzie, a 91�� professor of art practices and head of printmaking in the Art and Art History, art and transformation are intrinsically connected.

“I think when you’re really digging deep inside yourself and you make a work about something that’s really important, maybe it’s a certain theme you are trying to get across, when someone else sees it and gets it and is affected by it, that’s when you really see the power in artmaking,” she says. “It can transform you as the maker and also the person who sees it.”

Yazzie says her artwork follows the Diné dictum “walk in beauty”—the idea of creating beauty and harmony. “There’s always positive and negative in the world, a sort of yin and yang. In Navajo culture, walking in beauty is really about walking a balanced path and trying to stay in a positive frame of mind,” she explains.

That doesn’t mean avoiding controversial subjects in her art, but she says it does color the approach she takes.

“When I was younger and in grad school, I made artwork that was very much in your face,” Yazzie says. “And in a sense, I was preaching to the choir. People who understood what I was saying would stay and listen, but what I realized with that work was that the people I wanted to reach dismissed (my work) as just, ‘she’s an angry woman or she’s an angry person of color.’”

Today, much of her work straddles the line between abstractionism and representationalism, with recurring motifs of abstracted animal and plant forms, as well as people—notably women—who are rendered in a spectrum of colors. Yazzie says casual gallery viewers have described some of her paintings and prints with words such as “beautiful” and “whimsical” and even “silly.”

For those willing to inquire, however, there are deeper meanings to many of her works, which can tackle such serious issues as the horrible treatment of Native Americans in boarding schools run by the U.S. government from the 1880s to 1920s or the unsolved murders of indigenous women today.

“In a sense, it’s like using honey to draw people in and then educating them,” Yazzie says of her artwork today. “It’s a much slower path, but I’ve seen it over the years making bigger strides than when I was shouting ‘injustice.’”

Particularly with her earlier works, but even in some cases today, Yazzie says some people who “very rigid” in their views don’t appreciate her art. While it’s not always easy to hear, she credits her upbringing on the Navajo nation in northeastern Arizona with keeping her grounded and confident.

“Since a very young age I was brought up among Navajo people and around really strong women role models. That was my foundation,” she says. “So, when people were sometimes rude or racist, I would think back to my grandmother, who only spoke Navajo, and she would explain (their outlook) to me by saying people will sometimes act like bad children, and they don’t understand how to behave, so you have to show more patience with them and have a kind heart.”

Sharing personal experiences

Artwork has allowed Yazzie to tap into and share deeply personal experiences, such as a series of paintings she did after she was first diagnosed with Type II diabetes and was for a time at risk of losing her eyesight. Those paintings were notable for featuring small numbers in “thought bubbles” in the background of various works, capturing her blood sugar highs and lows on a given day.

Yazzie says gallery patrons who are diabetic oftentimes picked up on the hidden numbers. She has enjoyed talking with them about why her numbers were particularly high or very low in certain paintings.

“I think when you’re really digging deep inside yourself and you make a work about something that’s really important, maybe it’s a certain theme you are trying to get across, when someone else sees it and gets it and is affected by it, that’s when you really see the power in artmaking,” says Melanie Yazzie (with her sculpture "Strength from Within"). (Photo: Melanie Yazzie)

“That type of conversation is something that you can only have with someone who understands that illness. And it was beautiful, because for the people who saw the work who were diabetic, it was like a secret language between us,” she says.

She adds, “People sometimes make diabetes like it’s something shameful, but when we talked about it in a public setting, they (patrons) felt embraced and included. That artwork is about creating a space of healing and acceptance.”

And while she is proud of her Navajo cultural heritage, Yazzie says she takes pleasure in the fact that she makes art that people would not normally expect from an indigenous artist.

“I think there are stereotypes of what people—even in my own Navajo community—would classify as being Native American artwork, and I think a lot of times I go against that,” she says, noting she generally eschews paintings of pottery work, tepees or male warriors on horses. “And I think that’s one of the things that makes my work really strong is that it’s unique and different and not fulfilling stereotypes about Native American artwork.”

Through the years, Yazzie’s art has been featured in more than 500 group and solo exhibitions around the world. Her work can always be found at the Glenn Green Gallery in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Just as being an artist can bring transforming knowledge to others, Yazzie says artists need to be open to transformation in their own work and how it is presented. She learned that lesson for herself recently, when people who follow her work asked if she could make her art more accessible, which led her to a new direction as an artist.

“I’ve started doing jewelry pieces and scarves. That idea came from collectors and others who were saying, ‘I have one of your paintings or prints and I wish I could carry it with me when I’m going to see the doctor or because I’m having a hard time now,” she says. “In the Navajo tradition, jewelry is worn for protection and to bring about good things. So, this came about from people who say my work brings them hope.”

Balancing the best of both worlds

Yazzie says she’s been creating art for as long as she can remember. Still, her career path wasn’t always set in stone. Her parents, who were both educators, encouraged her in her formative years to follow their path, as they had some concerns about whether being an artist was a viable career.

“In any community, it’s really a struggle to make a living as an artist, and so I think they were just worried about that,” she says. For a time, she seriously contemplated becoming an English or Spanish teacher, but eventually decided to pursue a career in the arts, a decision she says her parents ultimately came to appreciate.

“My father would always tell me, choose something that you are really passionate about and that you love. And many people say that: that if you do something you love it never really feels like work. That was my experience. I just found that artmaking and being in the artist community really fed me in ways that other things didn’t.”

Today, as a professor at 91��, Yazzie says she is able to combine the best of both worlds as an artist and an instructor.

“Being a professor and helping students share their stories and experiences is deeply rewarding,” she says. “I think it’s wonderful to be able to help create a strong human being who is speaking their truth through their artwork.”

Even for 91�� students who have no interest in pursuing a career in the arts, Yazzie strongly encourages them to take classes that engage their creative side.

“My advice would be: Take an art class, a writing course, a music class, or anything in the creative realm,” she says. “It opens up parts of you that help you see the world in a more well-rounded way, and I think that is the power of a liberal arts education.”

"Remembering Brittany"

"Growing Stronger"

"She's Singing"

"Simon Joe Benally is Looking for a Rich Girlfriend"

"Speak Truth"

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about art and art history? Show your support.

For artist and professor of printmaking Melanie Yazzie, making art is about much more than creating something aesthetically pleasing.

Traditional

White

Dropping perfectionism and embracing purpose and joy

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 07 Apr 2025 15:22:31 +0000

Dropping perfectionism and embracing purpose and joy Rachel Sauer Mon, 04/07/2025 - 09:22

Pam Moore

91�� alumna Julie Chavez reflects on her new memoir, which chronicles her journey through a mental health crisis to finding a new motto: ‘Be adequate’

When Julie Chavez (Span’00) graduated from the 91�� with a major in Spanish language and literature, she didn’t see herself becoming an author. As a self-proclaimed “lifelong reader” who blogged for fun, she’d been told many times that she should write a book.

Although flattered, Chavez, who lives in Pleasanton, California, with her husband Mando Chavez, a 1999 91�� graduate, and their two sons, was comfortable in her role as a librarian at her sons’ school. And besides, she says, “I didn’t know what I wanted my story to be.”

91�� alumna Julie Chavez (Span’00) describes learning to advocate for herself and let go of her perfectionist tendencies, embracing the motto “be adequate,” in her memoir Everyone But Myself.

That is, until her story found her.

When anxiety and perfectionism culminated in a debilitating panic attack and a paralyzing sense that she was always falling short no matter how hard she tried, Chavez’s world irrevocably changed.

After navigating many obstacles to accessing mental health services, working with a therapist to put her own proverbial oxygen mask on before tending to her family and finally learning to advocate for herself and let go of her perfectionist tendencies, she emerged with a new motto— “be adequate”—and the idea for the book she needed to write.

Told with humor and honesty, Chavez’s new memoir, Everyone But Myself, released last year and named a Washington Post noteworthy book and a USA Today bestseller, chronicles her journey from the depths of a crushing mental health crisis to a life filled with joy and purpose. Chavez spoke with Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine to explain the story behind the story.

Question: What motivated you to write Everyone But Myself?

Chavez: I knew that if I was going to write a book, it would have to have value for readers. Even though I loved writing, I didn’t see myself as a fiction writer and I didn’t think I had a story to tell.

But then I had my annual review with my principal. Over the prior year, my mental health had taken a nosedive, and I thanked her for having shared her own struggles with me during that time. Her candor really helped me through what I call my ‘mid-mom crisis’—which I later learned is something that many over-extended working moms struggle with as our elementary grade kids grow into humans who don’t need us intensely as they once did.

She said, ‘That’s what you should write your book about.’ That was when I realized that my story could truly be helpful for someone else.

Question: Who is Everyone But Myself for?

Chavez: I wish it hadn’t taken debilitating anxiety for me to finally understand that my self-care and creating boundaries around my own happiness was not only good, but necessary.

So, I wrote this for all the readers who see themselves in my story. It’s for the perfectionist moms, the anxious moms, the moms who, in trying to do their best for their families, have inadvertently abandoned themselves.

In her memoir Everyone But Myself, 91�� alumna Julie Chavez chronicles her journey from the depths of a crushing mental health crisis to a life filled with joy and purpose.

It’s also for all the moms who feel they don’t ‘deserve’ help. I love my life and my family so much. I feel grateful that I get to live a relatively comfortable life. And yet, even with all the privilege I’ve been afforded, I was taken aback at how aggressively and how quickly my mental health declined—and how hard it was to find a therapist when I needed one.

We tend to put our suffering on a ‘sliding scale’ or to minimize it by comparing it to other people’s problems but the truth is, when it’s hard, it’s hard, and it’s OK to ask for help.

Question: What challenges did you encounter on the road to publication?

Chavez: The book you have in your hands is my fourth rewrite. I can’t tell you how many times I asked myself whether it was worth it.

I started writing in the spring of 2019 and by the end of the year I had 30,000 words, which I thought was a book. It wasn’t. Then, I attended a class on publishing, where I learned that without a platform, it would be extremely difficult to find a publisher, particularly for a memoir.

So, I started working with a hybrid publisher, who recommended a rewrite. Meanwhile, [publisher] Zibby Owens’ Book Club published an essay of mine, which was an excerpt from the book, which did really well. Zibby ended up taking me on as one of her first acquisitions, and I parted ways with the hybrid publisher.

Following advice from Zibby’s team, I started a fresh rewrite. Instead of a memoir, it was an essay collection, but it just didn’t work. So now, I had an agent and I was starting with a blank page, which is actually kind of backward. Usually you get an agent once you have a fully written manuscript. I finished that version in December of 2022 and the book was published just over two years later.

Through it all, I had to re-learn the same lesson I learned in the pages of my book—that I had to keep showing up, remember my “why,” and not be too attached to the outcome.

Question: What has surprised you over the course of your publishing journey?

Chavez: There’s been a surprising number of women who have said, ‘You are telling my exact story.’ So many have said that after reading my story, they understand what they’re going through, which has been wonderful.

That was always my hope—that my book could be a friend to them and to open the door to the kinds of conversations we need to have.

But my favorite thing is when someone says they’re giving it to a friend or asks me to sign it for their sister.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about Spanish and Portuguese? Show your support.

91�� alumna Julie Chavez reflects on her new memoir, which chronicles her journey through a mental health crisis to finding a new motto: ‘Be adequate.’

Traditional

White

Tales as old as time … yet we still love them

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 04 Apr 2025 15:36:10 +0000

Tales as old as time … yet we still love them Rachel Sauer Fri, 04/04/2025 - 09:36

Rachel Sauer

With yet another Snow White adaptation currently in theaters, 91�� scholar Suzanne Magnanini reflects on the enduring appeal of fairy tales

Once upon a time—this time, in fact, and many of the ones that came before it—there was a story that never grew dull in its telling.

It possibly leaped the porous cultural and national borders of narrative, carried by caravans or ships or ethernet cables and planted in the ready imaginations of successive generations of story lovers—those who tell them and those who hear them.

Maybe it’s the story of a young person who ventures into the unknown, where they encounter magic and beasts of all sizes and a resolution specific to the tale’s time and place. Maybe there really even are fairies involved.

Suzanne Magnanini, a 91�� associate professor of Italian and chair of the Department of French and Italian, notes that fairy tales' malleability helps them remain fresh and relevant over centuries of retellings.

And we never seem to tire of hearing about them.

The recent theatrical release of Disney’s live-action Snow White—one of countless retellings of the tale over more than 400 years—highlights the place of honor that fairy tales occupy in cultures around the world and in the hearts of people hearing them for the first time or the thousandth.

One of the reasons they remain fresh through countless years and iterations is their malleability, says Suzanne Magnanini, a 91�� associate professor of Italian and chair of the Department of French and Italian. “The Italian author Italo Calvino, who also edited a seminal collection of Italian folktales, writes of fairy tales as being like a stone fruit, where you have that hard core center that is always the same—you’ll usually recognize a Sleeping Beauty story, for example—but the fruit can be radically different around that.”

Stories of time and place

As a researcher, Magnanini has published broadly on fairy tales, including her 2008 book Fairy-Tale Science: Monstrous Generation in the Fairy Tales of Straparola and Basile. She began studying fairy tales while working on her PhD, finding in them a fascinating dovetailing between her interests in monstrosity and otherness.

“As a scholar, I take what’s called a social-historical approach,” she explains. “I’m really interested in all those little details that link a tale to a very precise place in time where it was told, and I’ve written about the ways in which fairy tales are used to elaborate on and think about scientific theories of reproduction that hadn’t really been nailed down at the time—questions that were still being circulated about whether humans could interbreed with animals, for example, and would that produce a monstrous child?

“You look at a some variations of Beauty and the Beast, like Giovan Francesco Straparola’s story of a pig king, where it’s a magical version of these questions, and maybe what’s actually happening is that fairy tales are a way to think through the anxieties and interests of the time.”

Fairy Tales at 91��

The ATU Index is one of the search elements that Suzanne Magnanini and her students are including as they develop the database for Fairy Tales at 91��. The project aims, in part, to improve access and searchability of the more than 2,000 fairy tale collections that are part of the Rare Books Collection at Norlin Library.

The project is a partnership between undergraduates and graduate students under the direction of Magnanini and Sean Babbs, instruction coordinator for the University Libraries' Rare and Distinctive Collections, as well as Hope Saska, CU Art Museum acting director and chief curator, who has trained students in visual-thinking strategies. The project is supported by Undergraduate Research Opportunities Program, the ASSETT Innovation Incubator, the President’s Teaching Scholars Program and the University Libraries.

Fairy Tales at 91�� will host a showcase of CU's fairy tale collection from 3:30 to 4:45 p.m. April 16 in Norlin Library M350B. Learn more here.

Though fairy tales may be spun in response to what’s happening in a specific time and place, they also often address concerns that aren’t specific to one location or culture but are broadly pondered across humanity. “Andrew Teverson has written that fairy tales are literature’s migrants because they can move across borders, they can move across boundaries and then make themselves at home and assimilate to a certain extent in different cultures,” Magnanini says.

For example, the Brothers Grimm heard a tale called “Sneewittchen” (Snow White) from folklorist Marie Hassenpflug, as well as from other sources, and included it as tale No. 53 in their seminal 1812 Grimm’s Fairy Tales. However, says Magnanini, there was a similar tale called “The Young Slave” in Giambattista Basile’s 1634 work Pentamerone. In fact, Snow White is type 709 in the Aarne–Thompson–Uther Index (ATU Index), which catalogs and describes common motifs and themes in fairy tales and folklore around the world.

Not so happily ever after

The origins of many fairy tales can be traced as far back as ancient Greece, Rome and China, Magnanini says, which speaks to their ability not only to help people of particular times and places explore their anxieties and questions, but to address the feelings that have been central to the human condition almost since our species emerged from caves.

“When I think about fairy tales, I think about number of characteristics that make them really appealing across time and space,” Magnanini says. “If you think about it, the protagonists are almost always young people heading out into the world—much like our students are heading out—leaving home behind, having to make their way in world, facing challenges. That experience can be very transformational, so in a way these stories are all about metamorphosis and change.

“A lot of times that’s when you’re living your life in Technicolor and all the emotions are new. So, even if you’re no longer in that moment of life, fairy tales tap into experiences like the first falling in love, the first adventure from home. And they often end right after the wedding, so you don’t see someone having to do their taxes or being like, ‘Oh, my god, I’ve been in this relationship for 30 years and I’m bored.’ I think part of the reason we don’t get tired of fairy tales is because they capture this fleeting time in life.”

“If you think about it, the (fairy tale) protagonists are almost always young people heading out into the world—much like our students are heading out—leaving home behind, having to make their way in world, facing challenges," says 91�� scholar Suzanne Magnanini. (Photo: Disney Studios)

While fairy tales, particularly as they’ve been interpreted and simplified by Disney, are stereotyped as having “and they lived happily ever after” endings, fairy tales pre-Disney more commonly ended with justice served, Magnanini says. For example, the version of “Snow White” in the 1812 Grimm’s Fairy Tales ends with the evil queen being forced to step into a pair of red-hot iron shoes and dance until she dies.

“A lot of people will say, ‘Oh, it’s the happy ending that’s the appeal of fairy tales,’ but it’s important to remember the vast majority of fairy tales end with the deliverance of justice—something really unjust has happened, someone has been discriminated against, there’s some evil in the world, and justice is delivered,” Magnanini explains. “People who study the formal aspects of fairy tales always talk about how the ‘happy ending’ is found in justice.

“Disney Studios has a tendency to remove the ambiguity from these tales and remove most of the violence—simplifying them in a lot of ways. If you read the French version of Beauty and the Beast, Charles Perrault’s version, there were other siblings in there; there was a complex family structure with complex interactions and a lot of really heavy issues—the family must deal with economic disaster.”

In fact, the field of fairy tale scholarship addresses everything from feminist interpretations of the stories to the ways in which children use fairy tales to help navigate psychosexual rites of passage. Generations of authors have told and continue to retell these familiar stories through different lenses of gender, sexuality, geography, racial identity, economic status and many, many others.

“What makes these stories different, and what I think is a big part of the appeal of fairy tales, is the magic or the marvel,” Magnanini says. “For it to be a fairy tale, scholars would say there has to be magic in there—not just the presence of magic, but magic that facilitates the happy ending by allowing the protagonist to overcome whatever obstacles are in the way of what they desire, maybe the marriage, the wealth, the happy ending. There’s something so satisfying about that, because it doesn’t happen in your quotidian day-to-day life. I mean, imagine if you met a talking deer.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about French and Italian? Show your support.

With yet another Snow White adaptation currently in theaters, 91�� scholar Suzanne Magnanini reflects on the enduring appeal of fairy tales.

Traditional

White

Top image: Disney Studios

CU prof fighting to keep Latin classes alive through video storytelling

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 01 Apr 2025 15:51:17 +0000

CU prof fighting to keep Latin classes alive through video storytelling Rachel Sauer Tue, 04/01/2025 - 09:51

Cody DeBos

For Reina Callier, learning Latin ‘is like lifting weights for your brain’

When a student in one of Reina Callier’s Latin classes said, “I came for the language, I stayed for the vibes,” she laughed, but the phrase stuck with her.

It captured something essential about Latin classrooms. Beyond conjugations and declensions, they offer students a haven for community, curiosity and a shared passion for the ancient world.

In recent years, though, that community has been shrinking.

Reina Callier, a 91�� teaching assistant professor of classics, notes that “Latin survives because people love it. And as long as we keep sharing that love, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Enrollment in Latin classes, especially at the secondary level, has largely been declining,” Callier explains. “During COVID, Latin classes were seen as non-essential, so they lost a lot of students. And they’ve been having a hard time bringing the numbers back up.”

For Callier, a teaching assistant professor of classics and the Latin Program Coordinator at the 91��, this trend is more than an academic concern.

She wasn’t alone in her worries. In response to falling enrollment rates, the Colorado Classics Association (CCA) formed a committee dedicated to promoting interest in Latin classes.

The solution? A project that would convey the benefits of learning Latin to students in their own words.

A language in decline

Across the country, Latin programs have struggled to justify their existence in an education system increasingly focused on STEM fields and workforce development. In some districts, administrators have proposed cutting Latin entirely, forcing teachers and students to fight for their programs.

In collaboration with the CCA and local high school educators, Callier helped spearhead You Belong in Latin, a video project designed to remind high school students why Latin is worth learning.

“We finally came up with the idea for a video, because it’s something you can share easily. It’s more entertaining than just looking at a brochure that says, ‘Here’s why Latin is a good thing to take,’” Callier says.

The project quickly took shape as teachers across Colorado filmed interviews with their students, capturing firsthand accounts of what Latin means to them. They also collected footage of classrooms filled with laughter, animated discussions and moments of discovery.

“One of the things we noticed is that once students get into Latin class, they really love it,” Callier says. “You just have to get them in the door.”

The team secured a grant to bring the project to life, which allowed them to hire a former 91�� student who majored in film—and took several semesters of Latin with Callier—to professionally edit the videos.

Over the course of a year, the raw footage was transformed into a compelling series of short videos, each emphasizing a unique aspect of the Latin classroom experience.

Now available on YouTube, the You Belong in Latin videos are a vital resource for teachers, students and parents to share.

Latin is for everyone

A central theme of You Belong in Latin is the tight-knit community formed in Latin classrooms. Unlike more popular language programs, Latin classes tend to be small, allowing students to form deeper relationships with their peers and instructors.

“At 91��, if you take Latin, aside from the first semester where there are two sections of Latin I, after that, everybody’s in the same class together,” Callier explains. “You continue to see the same instructors in the department as well. So you get to know them, and you get to know your peers in a way that’s not really very common at the college level.”

The same holds true in high schools, where Latin students often stay in one cohort across multiple years and gain a sense of unity and belonging.

The videos also seek to challenge the misconception that Latin is elitist—a subject reserved for Ivy League prep schools and aspiring academics.

“Latin actually isn’t elitist. Everybody’s starting from the same level when they walk into Latin class. There’s no barrier, and everybody can benefit from it in various ways,” Callier says.

And while Latin’s reputation as a “dead language” often turns students away, Callier argues that its benefits are very much alive. Latin gives students a foundation for English vocabulary, enhances their analytical skills and prepares them for careers in law, medicine and the sciences, she says, adding that it also provides direct access to Latin texts, “which is immensely beneficial to anyone who is enthusiastic about Roman literature or history.

“Latin actually isn’t elitist. Everybody’s starting from the same level when they walk into Latin class. There’s no barrier, and everybody can benefit from it in various ways.”

“Learning Latin is like weightlifting for your brain,” she says with a smile.

Keeping the momentum going

Now that the You Belong in Latin videos have been published, Callier is working to spread the word.

“We have been sharing our Colorado Classics Association YouTube channel with educators from around the country who are looking for different ways to promote Latin,” she says.

Feedback on the project has been encouraging for Latin educators who rarely receive recognition for their efforts.

“What we are doing as Latin educators is something that is really having an impact,” Callier says. “Students are getting a lot out of Latin in various ways, and they’re really appreciating what we bring to the table.”

At its heart, this project isn’t just about keeping Latin alive but also celebrating what makes it special. As Callier and her colleagues know, the language is only the beginning. The real magic comes from the people who learn and teach it.

Callier says, “Latin survives because people love it. And as long as we keep sharing that love, it’s not going anywhere.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about classics? Show your support.

For Reina Callier, learning Latin ‘is like lifting weights for your brain.'

Traditional

White

Patty Limerick and George Orwell merge to celebrate anniversaries

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 18 Mar 2025 15:17:07 +0000

Patty Limerick and George Orwell merge to celebrate anniversaries Rachel Sauer Tue, 03/18/2025 - 09:17

Daniel Long

The historian loaned her voice to the author in the summer of 2024 to commemorate her 40th year in 91�� and the 75th anniversary of 1984

It was a hot summer evening in June of 2024, in a barn on the east side of 91��, Colorado. On a low stage blanketed with a small, thin rug, two empty chairs sat facing each other, and between them, tall and menacing against the black backdrop, stood a red banner with “1984” written on it.

A large gray eye gazed out upon the audience from the center of that banner, lidless and all-seeing, an icon of surveillance.

Big Brother, it seemed, was watching, and he likely disapproved of what he saw.

91�� Professor Patty Limerick embodied 1984 author George Orwell in several public conversation, guided by the belief that “historians are people who try to reactivate the voices of the departed.”

His creator and harshest critic, George Orwell (born Eric Arthur Blair), had returned from the dead to discuss his life and work nearly 75 years after succumbing to tuberculosis at the age of 46 on Jan. 21, 1950, seven months following the publication of his most famous novel, 1984, the nightmare-vision that gave the world Room 101, memory holes, Newspeak and doublethink.

It would be the first of two public conversations he’d have over the summer, this one with TV show host Aaron Harber and the second with scholar, author and educator Clay Jenkinson.

Harber took the stage and faced the humble gathering of spectators. “I would like to introduce to you George Orwell,” he said.

Applause mounted in the sweltering barn as the author of Animal Farm, Road to Wigan Pier and numerous essays ambled down the aisle dividing the crowd and stepped up to meet Harber, dressed sharply but unseasonably in a jacket, trousers, tie and hat . . .

. . . and bearing a remarkable resemblance to 91�� history professor Patty Limerick.

Why channel Orwell?

“Tragedy . . . belonged to the ancient time, to a time when there was still privacy, love, and friendship, and when the members of a family stood by one another without needing to know the reason.”
—George Orwell, 1984

The year 2024 marked Limerick’s 40th in 91��, which is another way of saying she moved there in 1984. She wanted to celebrate, but how?

“Then I thought, ‘Yes, 1984—when was that published?’ I thought I knew, but I didn't. And when I checked, it was the 75th anniversary.”

This convergence of round numbers gave Limerick an idea: Maybe she could observe both anniversaries together, with the same event, as only a historian would.

Her initial thought was to ask her friend Jenkinson to don Orwell’s persona while she interviewed him. Having impersonated many historical figures—Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and J. Robert Oppenheimer, among others—for a variety of audiences, including Supreme Court justices and U.S. Congress, he seemed the natural choice.

But Jenkinson didn’t have sufficient time to prepare for the role, which left Limerick wondering: Could she do the impersonation herself?

She’d impersonated President Richard Nixon in her American History survey course several years prior, thinking this would prove more engaging than her usual lecture on the man. “The lecture on Richard Nixon was so useless because I, as a person of my age group, have a lot of feelings about Nixon,” Limerick says. “The lecture would be quite interesting if you were curious about my feelings about Nixon, but if you thought you might want to learn about Richard Nixon, you came to the wrong place.”

Even without the standard accoutrements—makeup, clothing, five o’clock shadow—Limerick’s impersonation of the 37th president did the trick, she says. Her students asked thoughtful questions, and she got the chance to put some flesh and sinew on the bones of her Nixonian knowledge.

“I certainly conveyed some moments in which Nixon was insufferably full of questionable convictions, but I also . . . conveyed his accomplishments,” such as “the lessening of tensions with China and the signing of crucial environmental laws,” she recalls. “I feel I got it right.”

So, why not impersonate Orwell? Why not lend him her voice as she had Nixon?

Why not indeed. After all, Limerick says, “historians are people who try to reactivate the voices of the departed.”

Guaranteed tyranny

“Don’t you see that the whole aim of Newspeak is to narrow the range of thought? In the end we shall make thoughtcrime literally impossible, because there will be no words in which to express it.”
—George Orwell, 1984

One of 1984’s most famous innovations is Newspeak, a language Orwell constructed to represent the nation-state of Oceania’s drive to control not just its citizens’ behavior but also what went on in their heads.

Patty Limerick (left), a 91�� historian, embodied George Orwell during a televised conversation with Aaron Harber. (Screen grab: PBS)

“The purpose of Newspeak was not only to provide a medium of expression for the world-view and mental habits proper to the devotees of Ingsoc (English socialism), but to make all other modes of thought impossible,” Orwell says in his appendix to 1984, “The Principles of Newspeak.”

“It was intended that when Newspeak had been adopted once and for all and Oldspeak forgotten, a heretical thought—that is, a thought diverging from the principles of Ingsoc—should be literally unthinkable, at least so far as thought is dependent on words.”

“Newspeak,” says Limerick, “is the foundation of guaranteed tyranny. You don’t let people have the words that they need. What became of justice? What became of freedom? What became of honor? They can’t ask those questions if they don’t have those words. People can’t resist if they don’t have the word ‘resist.’”

Orwell held strong views about the relationship between word and thought. He famously criticized nebulous prose in his essay “Politics and the English Language” by arguing that fuzzy writing both emerges from and leads to fuzzy thinking.

Decades later, not fully realizing her indebtedness to Orwell, Limerick made a similar case in her essay “Dancing with Professors,” though she approached the issue from an educational rather than a political angle. Yet both agreed that the stakes of clarity are high: freedom of thought for Orwell, the legitimacy and survival of academia for Limerick.

But what about some of the words that appear in the media these days—words like “mistruths” in place of “lies”? Would Orwell consider these examples of Newspeak?

Not necessarily, Limerick argues. For one thing, these words, wooly as they may be, add to the English language, creating new shades of meaning, while Newspeak feeds on subtraction.

“Do you know that Newspeak is the only language in the world whose vocabulary gets smaller every year?” the Newspeak enthusiast Syme asks of 1984’s protagonist, Winston Smith. “Every year fewer and fewer words, and the range of consciousness always a little smaller.”

For another thing, a word like “mistruth,” says Limerick, is often used not by the powerful to maintain their power but by media outlets that are trying to report on falsehoods without using incendiary words like “lie” or “liar.”

“If you're going to call the leader of the United States a liar repeatedly, and his supporters are not gentle and forgiving people, you’re going to spend much of your conscious life wondering how you’re going to cope with the consequences of your having said he’s lying.”

Newspeak does not deal in such subtleties, Limerick believes. Newspeak is where subtlety goes to die.

Two plus two equals five

“You are a slow learner, Winston,” said O’Brien gently.
“How can I help it?” (Winston) blubbered. “How can I help seeing what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four.”
“Sometimes, Winston. Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane.”
—George Orwell, 1984

Another of Orwell’s stickier inventions in 1984 is doublethink, or the capacity to believe two logically opposed things at once—things like war is peace, freedom is slavery and ignorance is strength.

“Doublethink is the power of tyrants to say contradictory things and not be held responsible for the disparities,” Limerick explains. “It is really bad, and really dangerous, and really perilous.”

Winston discovers how perilous when he’s interrogated by O’Brien, a character he assumes is a friend but who turns out to be a member of the Thought Police tasked with rooting out thought-criminals. After learning of Winston’s secret opposition to Ingsoc, O’Brien tortures him relentlessly to convert him back into doublethink, arguing that it “is impossible to see reality except by looking through the eyes of the Party.”

Yet Limerick points out that it is important not to mistake the direct contradictions of doublethink in 1984 with the paradoxes of real life.

Take historical figures, for example. The more one learns about them, says Limerick, the more complex they become, to the point that they may force students of history to hold seemingly contradictory thoughts when appraising them.

This happened to Limerick herself with William Stewart, senator of Nevada from 1865-75.

“Environmental activists and historians hold Stewart in contempt because he was the guy who wrote the 1872 mining law, which enshrines the notion that individuals can just go out and make mining claims and owe nothing in the way of revenue to the government,” she says.

Yet Stewart also proved crucial to getting the Fifteenth Amendment passed in 1870, which granted African American men the right to vote—an accomplishment Limerick urges everyone to admire.

Evidence sometimes demands conflicting feelings, Limerick says. Villains can do heroic things, and heroes can do villainous things, including Orwell. The great champion of free thought also expressed complicated, often inconsistent views about women, Jews and Catholicism. He wasn’t perfect, and any estimation that claimed he was would be flat. Posterity can both praise and blame him simultaneously—paradoxical, but true.

But that doesn’t mean two plus two will ever equal five.

Orwell’s lingering relevance

“We are the dead. Our only true life is in the future. We shall take part in it as handfuls of dust and splinters of bone. But how far away that future may be, there is no knowing.”
—George Orwell, 1984

The conversation between Jenkinson and Limerick’s Orwell, organized by the Vail Symposium, took place on Aug. 21, 2024, at the Donovan Pavilion in Vail. That night, the two engaged in an often funny and frequently tetchy back-and-forth about Orwell’s childhood, his views on socialism and his enduring legacy.

“Doublethink is the power of tyrants to say contradictory things and not be held responsible for the disparities. It is really bad, and really dangerous, and really perilous,” argues historian Patty Limerick.

When, about three-quarters of the way through the discussion, Jenkinson revealed he was wearing a 1984 T-shirt, Orwell stared at it, nonplussed, and asked, “My understanding from that shirt is that my name and that book are still recognizable?”

“Universally!” Jenkinson proclaimed. “One of the most recognizable books written in English and certainly one of the most recognizable books of the 20th century. And it has become extremely important again in the last dozen years or so because the world is having a strange flirtation with authoritarianism, and one of the ways that people have coped with this abroad and at home . . . is to go back to your book. And they find solace in it, they find warning in it, they find hope in it, and they find discouragement in it, but it is a key text as people try to sort our way through this extraordinarily difficult time in modern history.”

A long silence followed while Orwell gathered his thoughts.

“I’m having such mixed feelings,” he admitted to Jenkinson. “I hoped that what I wrote about (in 1984) would become mocked, humorous. ‘He thought these terrible things were going to happen. Nothing like that happened! Boy, did he get that wrong!’

“As an author, I am gratified knowing that (1984) went on and on,” he added. “(But) as a human being who welcomed a child (his adopted son Richard Blair) into the world, I’m not anything but shaken to believe that this book is still so relevant.”

Yet Orwell’s distress turned to horror when Jenkinson delivered the worst news of the night: the definition of the word “Orwellian.”

“When we say ‘Orwellian,’” Jenkinson said, “we mean surveillance, torture, discrimination, disappearances, propaganda, lies, permanent war, keeping the class system, keeping down the poor … ‘Orwellian’ is a dystopian word for us meaning a nightmare world.”

Orwell winced at this revelation. “The things I tried to prevent, the things I tried to warn people about, they associate with me?” he railed. “Change that word!”

Jenkinson held out his hands, welcoming Orwell’s ideas. “What would you prefer?”

Orwell offered two alternative definitions: one about intellectual openness and diversity, the other about the necessity of precise language.

But a third definition, one governed not by foreboding or criticism but by a zeal for life and all it contained, can be culled from the beginning of Orwell and Jenkinson’s talk.

“If you think . . . that I wrote 1984 when I knew I was dying, and knew that this would be my last book, and that the grimness of this book comes from the melancholy and despair of a dying man, you have that wrong,” Orwell said. “I lived with a commitment to being alive that never, never faltered.”

Perhaps the only thing comparable to Orwell’s commitment to being alive is Limerick’s commitment to keeping him alive—or, if not him, at least his memory. He won’t be memory-holed on her watch.

“I hate it so much that he died when he did, just a few months after 1984 came out, and that he was so sick and so frail while he was writing it,” she says. “I wanted to do anything I could to provide people today with an interlude where he was speaking.”

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about history? Show your support.

The historian loaned her voice to the author in the summer of 2024 to commemorate her 40th year in 91�� and the 75th anniversary of '1984.'

Traditional

White

Top illustration: Márton Kapoli

91�� religious studies professor says Twelver Shi’ism is open to discourse

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 17 Mar 2025 15:09:22 +0000

91�� religious studies professor says Twelver Shi’ism is open to discourse Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/17/2025 - 09:09

Bradley Worrell

Associate Professor Aun Hasan Ali’s book about Islam’s School of Hillah explores the dynamics and formation of Twelver Shi’ism, arguing that the faith was open to diverse intellectual traditions

Twelver Shi’ism, the largest branch of Shi’ite Islam, tends to be viewed as fundamentally authoritarian, particularly as seen through the lens of the ideology of the Iranian government.

Aun Hasan Ali, associate professor in the 91�� Department of Religious Studies whose area of focus is on Islamic intellectual history, particularly pre-modern Twelver Shi’i traditions, says he believes that modern perceptions of the faith have been colored by the 1979 Iranian Revolution.

“It was an unprecedented moment in a lot of ways, because for the first time in the history of Shi’ism, you had a theory of government where the jurist was the head of the state,” he says. “Traditionally, there was always a kind of separation between those two spheres.”

Aun Hasan Ali, 91�� associate professor of religious studies, argues that modern perceptions of Twelver Shi'ism have been colored by the 1979 Iranian Revolution.

As a result, Ali says the idea took root among some in the West and also in the Muslim Sunni tradition that Shi’i clerics were free to make whatever political or religious decisions they pleased, because they were not bound by the history of tradition. However, that’s not an accurate portrayal of how jurists and other followers come to decisions in Twelver Shi’i religious tradition, he adds.

Instead, Ali makes the case that Twelver Shi’ism is better understood as a “discursive tradition,” which, as defined by noted cultural anthropologist Talal Asad, involves researching foundational Islamic texts, such as the Quran and the writings of exemplary historical Shi’i religious figures, for context. Ali says his own definition of discursive tradition is tied less to foundational texts and more to how noted Shi’i religious figures interpreted those texts, as that is how most followers of the faith first engage on religious topics.

“In the same way that someone addressing ethics in contemporary philosophy needs to address (Immanuel) Kant, for instance, I view that as a parameter of the conversation,” he explains. “Similarly, when it comes to Islamic tradition, there are important figures that one needs to address. So, in the simplest terms, a discursive tradition should be thought of as a conversation across time and space among experts.”

In contrast to the idea that scholars make decisions based solely upon their authority, Ali contends that thinking of the Twelver Shi’i faith as a discursive tradition means the faith continually remains open to discussion, debate, mediation and modification.

Ali’s ideas on discursive tradition were shaped in part by his PhD dissertation on the School of Hillah, a center of religious learning that played a major role in preserving and promoting Twelver Shi’i Islamic religious traditions, while also being open to integrating diverse intellectual traditions, during its formative years, from the 12th to 14th centuries. Ali’s revised dissertation was published in 2023 by I.B. Taurus as the book, The School of Hillah and the Formation of Twelver Shi’i Islamic Tradition, which is being translated into Arabic for wider distribution.

Recently, Ali spoke with Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine about the importance of the School of Hillah in the formation of Twelver Shi’ism and its profound effect on the Shi’i faith today. His answers have been lightly edited and condensed for space considerations.

Question: Why does the School of Hillah take root in what is now southern Iraq?

Ali: Hillah becomes a center of scholarship for two reasons. One is that you have a (regional) Shi’i dynasty come to power that patronizes these scholars. The second reason is that you have the Mongol invasion in the 13th century, which pushes a lot of people looking to escape that devastation southward.

So, you end up with a concentration of scholars who are sought-after in the region. People travel to Hillah from the Levant, from Bahrain and from Iran. They travel there because they were seeking expert education, and the major figures of Hillah were the undisputed experts. (Students) came there to receive that kind of education in the same way that today somebody might come to CU seeking a world-class program in astrophysics. The same thing was happening in Hillah; they came there to learn from these masters.

With the Mongol invasion, sure, there’s devastation, but there are also opportunities. There are trade routes that enrich particular families in the area, and, as we all know, education requires money, so the influx of wealth also becomes a reason why they’re able to offer patronage to those scholars.

In The School of Hillah and the Formation of Twelver Shi’i Islamic Tradition, which is being translated into Arabic for wider distribution, author Aun Hasan Ali explores the School of Hillah, a center of religious learning that played a major role in preserving and promoting Twelver Shi’i Islamic religious traditions.

Question: Is the School of Hillah equivalent to what we would think of today as a university or maybe a seminary?

Ali: Certainly, it’s different in the sense that it’s not primarily organized in brick-and-mortar institutions. It’s more unstructured. Classes took place in the home of an individual, a prominent scholar.

It’s similar in the sense of curriculum. What I mean is that certain texts come to be understood as definitive of a tradition. And that’s part of the reason why Hillah is so important. A lot of the texts that we think of today as being definitive of Shi’i tradition were written in Hillah and continue to be studied today, so we can think of it in terms of there is, not uniformity, but an expectation that anybody who masters this tradition would read these texts. In that sense, it’s similar.

It’s also similar in the sense of structures of authority. Just as someone wishing to put forth a view in, let’s say, American jurisprudence, has to engage particular jurists; similarly, somebody wishing to put forward a view in Shi’i theology has to engage with the views of particular jurists. So, structures of authority can be similar in that way. The idea of a curriculum can be similar in that way, but it’s not organized as a single space in primarily brick-and-mortar institutions.

That was actually one of the points in the book. The organizing principle of the School of Hillah is these large families in which particular types of expertise is concentrated. So, one family may have an expertise in genealogy; another family may have an expertise in philosophy; while another family may have an expertise in law. These large families (in the community) structure the School of Hillah. And, of course, people intermarry between these families, so it becomes a network of intellectuals.

Question: For the students who completed their studies at Hillah, did they generally go on to become clerics and religious scholars?

Ali: If we look at the contemporary Twelver Shi’i tradition, it runs the full gamut. Before you have modern schools, people learn basic numeracy and literacy in religious institutions, which is the same as it was in the West.

Some of those people, after getting basic literacy and numeracy, go on to become merchants or preachers, for example. A smaller group will become teachers within the institution, and then a (small percentage) of those will become the next generation of masters of the tradition. Most people don’t reach that level, because it takes a long time—we’re talking maybe 20 years or more—to be considered competent within that tradition. It’s a very grueling process, and most people leave before they finish the entire process.

Question: Can you talk about how your idea of discursive tradition contrasts with the idea of jurists having the authority to make whatever decisions they want?

Ali: That’s exactly the idea I was pushing back against in the book—this kind of free-for-all idea about authority. That’s not to say authority isn’t important, or that jurists don’t exercise that kind of authority. But again, they do it within the horizons of possibility that are shaped by discursive tradition, as a conversation across space and time.

And yes, there’s a kind of push and pull where a really important figure can push a conversation forward, can expand at the horizons of possibility, but it’s not an arbitrary process. It’s a process that’s linked to the past at the same time that it looks ahead.

Question: Were there any major developments or contributions that came out of the School of Hillah that made a profound impact on Islam today?

Ali: Philosophy becoming integrated into theology is something that we can look to Hillah for, within the Shi’i world. That development takes place earlier within the Sunni world, but in the Shi’i world, Avicenna’s philosophy, or Avicenna’s metaphysics, comes to be integrated into Shi’i theology. In that time period, the integration of mysticism into Shi’ism is also something that happens in Hillah.

"There’s a kind of push and pull where a really important figure can push a conversation forward, can expand at the horizons of possibility, but it’s not an arbitrary process. It’s a process that’s linked to the past at the same time that it looks ahead."

When we think of (Islamic) law, that’s really one of the most important contributions that happens at Hillah, and you see the integration of advanced mathematics and advanced science into law. For example, in Islamic law, figuring out the direction of prayer from a distance, given the curvature of the earth is also a complicated thing, which leads to advanced discussions of science and mathematics integrated into the chapter on ritual prayer, for instance. Those would be a few examples.

At Hillah, you also have the production of these kinds of biographical dictionaries. So, when Muslims evaluate a piece of information, part of the way they evaluate it is by looking at who communicated that information. You can imagine that it would be very useful to have a kind of a biographical dictionary, where you could look up a particular individual and see what they were like. Were they known to be somebody who had scholarly expertise? Were they known to be somebody who was an upright person? Or were they known to be unscrupulous in the way that they narrated information? These kinds of biographical dictionaries, which facilitate legal discussions and conversations, were produced at Hillah.

Question: Despite the School of Hillah’s contributions to Islamic thought, you say there is not much scholarship about it. Why do you think that is?

Ali: I believe a lot of it has to do with the history of Islamic studies in the West—and that only in recent years has Shi’ism gotten the attention it deserved. Previously, scholars who studied Islam largely dealt with Sunni sources. And so, even when they talked about Shi’ism, they were talking about it through the lens of Sunni authors and Sunni sources.

This is despite the fact that Shi’ites—while making up somewhere between 15 and 20 percent of the (Muslim) population—their contributions, intellectually, to Islamic tradition has been disproportionate.

Things started to change in the 1980s and 1990s, but even among scholars focused on Shi’ism, they have tended to focus on its origins, or trying to explain how the Iranian Revolution happened, so in both of those ways Hillah was ignored.

Question: Do you have any particular hopes for your book?

Ali: In general, the book has been received well. I think that people (in Islamic studies) recognize this was a crucial period in Shi’i religious history that hadn’t really been sketched out the way I did in the book.

In terms of contributing to a broader discussion, my hope is the book brings together theoretical conversations in religious studies with meticulous historical scholarship. In Islamic studies, it’s sometimes separated by people who do theoretically rigorous projects and people who do meticulous historical scholarship. I tried to do both, and I hope that the book contributes to bridging the gap between these two different approaches within Islamic studies.

Did you enjoy this article? Subscribe to our newsletter. Passionate about religious studies? Show your support.

Associate Professor Aun Hasan Ali’s book about Islam’s School of Hillah explores the dynamics and formation of Twelver Shi’ism, arguing that the faith was open to diverse intellectual traditions.

Traditional

White

Division of Arts and Humanities

Degree finally in hand, dancer leaps back onto 91�� stage

Related Articles

Recognizing a century of boats against the current

Related Articles

Holocaust victims to be memorialized on campus

Related Articles

Voices of the Andes: Sharing Quechua stories and culture through modern media

Related Articles

Art and transformation are inherently connected, prof says

Related Articles

Dropping perfectionism and embracing purpose and joy

Related Articles

Tales as old as time … yet we still love them

Related Articles

CU prof fighting to keep Latin classes alive through video storytelling

Related Articles

Patty Limerick and George Orwell merge to celebrate anniversaries

Related Articles

91�� religious studies professor says Twelver Shi’ism is open to discourse

Related Articles

Division of Arts and Humanities

Degree finally in hand, dancer leaps back onto 91������ stage

Related Articles

Recognizing a century of boats against the current

Related Articles

Holocaust victims to be memorialized on campus

Related Articles

Voices of the Andes: Sharing Quechua stories and culture through modern media

Related Articles

Art and transformation are inherently connected, prof says

Related Articles

Dropping perfectionism and embracing purpose and joy

Related Articles

Tales as old as time … yet we still love them

Related Articles

CU prof fighting to keep Latin classes alive through video storytelling

Related Articles

Patty Limerick and George Orwell merge to celebrate anniversaries

Related Articles

91������ religious studies professor says Twelver Shi’ism is open to discourse

Related Articles

Degree finally in hand, dancer leaps back onto 91�� stage

91�� religious studies professor says Twelver Shi’ism is open to discourse