Volume 13, Issue 2 (2025)

Dear Readers,

As the door to our college careers begins to close, we look back at our work on Gandy Dancer’s staff with enormous gratitude. This particular issue feels just as special as the previous one, it being our last. We want to thank our fellow staff members, all of our wonderful contributors, and you, dearest reader.

This semester we had the incredible opportunity to interview Amy Stuber after reading her debut short story collection, Sad Grownups. This collection features stories that explore the winding paths and raw transformations of becoming, and being, an adult. You will find both a review of her collection and the interview in the back of this issue. (Something we hope you enjoy!)

We were fortunate to receive a significant number of really strong art submissions this semester, with an abundance coming from the Fashion Institute of Technology, and each piece selected tugs on a different emotional chord. Desislava Furber’s “Necrolog (10 Years)” addresses mourning rituals in Bulgaria that continue forty days, a year, or even ten years after the death of a loved one. Sara Aparicio’s “Empanadas” evokes a deep sense of joy through the use of bright paint swatches. Some of the artwork takes us to uncomfortable places, like “Immaculate Conception” by Alex Herrera, which suggests a certain intimacy with the natural world. We’ve also been delighted by the various mediums and methods artists have utilized this semester.

So much poetry in this semester is evocative and sure-footed, as well. Zoe LaVallee writes: “Tulips burst / from sticky stems and bend ever / so slightly over the marigold patch” and in Magdalene Joseph’s “Reef is Just a Synonym for Heaven,” the speaker wishes to “kiss [their] brother’s cool cheek one last time.” Alternatively, Ada Benedicto’s “Sunday Brunch” provides a sharp, clear-eyed view of the stain of consumerism and American nationalism, ending with the lines: “I’m Red 40 glow. / I’m an American.”

In Amelia Weitknecht’s “Imagination’s Memoir,” imagination is the narrator who invites us to recall the pleasures of childlike curiosity and creativity. As we grow up we tend to grow apart, but our imagination never forgets us; and like old friends, we are reminded that we can still visit each other as if nothing has changed.

Every piece in this issue has been shaped by the creative minds of our wonderful authors and artists. We invite you to get back in touch with your imagination as you travel through this issue.

This goodbye is bittersweet, though our joy is overshadowed by our sadness. It has been a tremendous pleasure working as Managing Editors for the 2024-25 year, and we feel extremely confident that the magazine has been left in good hands. Join us on our last journey through Gandy Dancer.

Onwards!

Mollie McMullan and Jordyn Stinar