letter-from-the-editors

Until quite recently, I had never really been anywhere. New York is a cluttered place where everything I could ever need is in the palm of my hand.

The black-and-white checkerboard floors, exposed brick walls, red leather booths, and shining red lights displaying “MEL’S.” The dartboard, wooden chairs, and the cramped and dark interior of 1020. The long bar counter, antique light fixtures, and abstract paintings of Arts and Crafts Beer Parlor. These are the staple campus bars for many Columbia students today—places to de-stress, mingle, and enjoy drinks and classic bar food.

Columbia School of the Arts promotes its film master’s degree program with a skillfully produced trailer that offers a seductive sales pitch to prospective applicants. The school boasts that students’ films play at “every major film festival you can think of: Telluride, Berlin, South by Southwest and Tribeca, Cannes.” Deans and professors tout the program’s focus on practical training and portfolio development set students up for industry success: The school proudly announces that students are “making things from the first day they come here and they’re making things as they walk out the door.”

Police fatally shot a man on the steps of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Sunday afternoon after he opened fire near a crowd of hundreds gathered for a Christmas choral concert. It is not clear whether the man was shooting at people in the crowd, but no other injuries or fatalities have been reported.

For the last four years, Belle Harlem operated a 12-seat chef’s table in its 275-square-foot space. The restaurant prided itself on its one communal table where everyone could share the space and chat with owners Darryl and Melissa Burnette. With a paid staff of one, the restaurant had an intimate, cozy character, seating diners just a few feet from the chefs at work. Then, the pandemic hit.

“Look at all those people,” a young woman, played by Lindsey Belisle, BC ’23, says, watching the bustle of a New York street from a park bench. “Who are they? Where are they from? And where are they going?”

The highly ornate facade of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine is a stunning backdrop for Jamie Wellerstein as he dances on its steps, singing about his writing dreams and his newfound love, Cathy Hiatt. The actor playing Jamie must perform in front of a camera in lieu of a live audience; this is the reality of virtual theater that Columbia’s student theater groups are facing.

I came to New York City when I was four. I spent the next seven years living in a flat in Gravesend. Perhaps the most aptly named neighborhood in the city, Gravesend is as weary and empty as its name suggests. I don’t remember much about those days besides that the winters were cold; sharing a room, my sister and I would sleep in winter coats because the heater was broken.

The news on campus today was pretty much the same across the board: While many of us thought we’d be waking up to greet our first female president, the electoral college swung unpredictably in favor of Donald Trump.