Welcome to the eighth issue of Volume XXX of The Eye. We’ve officially reached the end of the semester, which means we’ve also reached the end of our traditional publication until next fall. To us, that’s both good news and sad news. The sad news is that the love and commitment we dedicate to forming each issue of this magazine will be placed on pause for a bit. The good news is that we’ll still be releasing stories through the summer term, and we are one step closer to the sweet release from Zoom school hell. It’s a trade-off we’re willing to take.

Welcome to the Arts Issue! We are so thrilled to share our somewhat annual collaboration with Spectator’s Arts and Entertainment section. This week, our issue is jam-packed with writing, photography, and illustrations focused on the arts in and around the Columbia community. From ballet to screenwriting to digicam photography, we have highlighted stories of artists and art lovers finding their way through a pandemic year that has devastated creators and performers, but also underscored the immeasurable value of the arts.

Welcome to the sixth issue of Volume XXX of The Eye. As we approach the end of the semester, it feels like a degree of normalcy is beginning to kick in: the weather is allowing for outdoor activities and vaccine cards abound on Instagram stories. But as the world starts seeming slightly more typical, we are also facing an all-too-familiar overload of tragedies; last we checked, there were at least 20 mass shootings in the past two weeks, including one that targeted Asian American women in Atlanta, Georgia.

Welcome to the fifth issue of Volume XXX of The Eye! We hope that you enjoyed a restful spring break and wish you a smooth transition into the second half of this semester. This week, The Eye is excited to share a selection of writings that will engage you on Columbia’s reckoning with anti-Black racism in 1987, the School of General Studies’ dance community (or lack thereof), stories of one year’s worth of television, and lessons on life and loss through The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild.

Welcome to the fourth issue of Volume XXX of The Eye! As we approach the middle of the semester (yes, we can’t believe it either!), The Eye is excited to share an issue that will capture your attention and make you think more critically about anti-violence initiatives in Harlem, the impacts of jazz music on the University and Harlem communities, increasing tuition prices, and birds.

Welcome to Issue 3 of The Eye! As midterms are approaching, we hope that you can take some time to read this week’s stories and catch up on the important issues impacting students.

Welcome to this semester’s second issue of The Eye! We hope that you’re settling into the semester and, for those on campus, enjoying the snow!

Welcome to Volume XXX of The Eye, Spectator’s long-form magazine.

The cast of characters at bargaining meetings between the Graduate Workers of Columbia-United Auto Workers and the Columbia administration is almost always the same. Ludda Ludwig, a second-year doctoral candidate in earth and environmental science and a bargaining committee representative for GWC, listens patiently to yet another explanation of why Columbia believes that health benefits are outside the scope of a collective bargaining contract. Bernie Plum, the University’s outside counsel tasked with delivering these arguments—he previously represented Disney, the NBA, and the New York Times in their negotiations with employee unions—looks downward toward his screen as he speaks, glasses perched at the end of his nose.

Back when Columbia was in-person, I made a regular habit of walking down Amsterdam to the Hungarian Pastry Shop. My trips usually started the same way: I would order and attempt to pay at the counter (with the cash I withdrew specifically for this event), only for the server to tell me, once again, that you pay when you leave. I’d take up too much space walking down the narrow corridor between tables and utter a consistent stream of apologies, primarily directed at the chairs I hit in my wake. I’d excuse-me my way to a table, pull out my laptop, and see that it had 9 percent battery remaining—barely enough to open a saved PDF, let alone write my essay. I’d confront the truth I’d known all along that intense productivity was not my top priority in coming here.