The three-piece genre-fluid band Dial Tone rehearses in the basement of guitarist Cole Pivec’s house in the Linden Hills neighborhood of southwest Minneapolis.

It is a setting natural to any college band. A flight of stairs curls downward into a mostly-finished space crowded with workout gear. Acoustic guitars lounge on the couch and a keyboard sits in the corner. A cajón, a box-shaped drum that can be played while sitting on it, serves as a stool for the keyboard and an instrument.

The band, made up of fourth-year University of Minnesota honors students Pivec, Daisy Forester and Henning Hanson, had just reunited after spending six months apart studying abroad last semester.

Still, they said it felt like they had not missed a beat.

“Coming home now, it feels like we’re caught up, you know?” Pivec said.

Just before going on hiatus, Dial Tone released their first full-length album, self-titled and entirely self-produced. It is a 13-track concept album tracing the sonic history of Minneapolis, something they said contributes to their goal of making “authentic music.”

“(That concept) was really helpful as we were developing our own sound,” Forester said. “How we wanted to pay homage to the city while bringing our own twist and flavor to it.”

At this basement rehearsal on a rainy July 4, the band was preparing for the debut of their newest direction: a stripped-back EP titled “Time For A Living.”

The release party is set for July 12 at Green Room on Girard Avenue in Uptown, a venue Forester said she grew up two blocks away from, another example of just how steeped Dial Tone is in this city.

“We wanted to challenge ourselves to broaden our horizons and push ourselves in every facet that surrounds music,” Pivec said about the EP. “We get to reimagine some of these songs and shine a new light on them that we haven’t been able to do in the past.”

The EP’s title is drawn from the album’s ninth track, an upbeat indie rock song evocative of Twin Cities pop-rock band Hippo Campus (whose song “Suicide Saturday” they cover on the EP).

The song “Time For A Living” is a young person’s anthem. It speaks of concurrent optimism and cynicism that characterizes our time; of feeling like you are starting to figure out who you are, but you still have no idea who that person is, all the while having friends around you experiencing the same thing.

“We learn to bark, we got no bite / But we rage, rage, rage against the dying of the light,” Forester sings. The lyrics reference the Dylan Thomas poem, “Do not go gentle into that good night.”

Watching them rehearse the acoustic version felt like magic being conjured right before my eyes. Dial Tone’s music taps into that special energy between the three friends that ties them together — a blending and balancing of histories and personalities that remind everyone of who they are.

The strong friendship in their music reminds me of Paramore, another female-fronted three-person outfit built on lifelong friendships formed during the members’ youth. Dial Tone was flattered by the comparison.

“Something that has helped us do all of the things we’re trying to accomplish is the fact that the relationship came first and the music came after,” Hanson said.

The keyword to Dial Tone’s musical ethos is authenticity — they make the music they want to make, do not over-execute production to get a point across and intentionally avoid falling into niches within the scene.

“The competition that builds up in niches gets in the way of authenticity and having fun,” Forester said.

It is important to note Dial Tone’s youth. As university students, they started writing their album in January 2023 and spent the time between the release of their album and their EP a world apart from each other. They said the creative opportunities for their future are endless.

“I think we realized through this process that Dial Tone can be a lot more than just a punk rock band that plays house shows,” Pivec said.

Past the stairs in Pivec’s basement is the band’s electric set-up. I left them just as they were practicing their song “D.I.Y. (Interlude).” Standing on the front stoop waiting for my ride home, I could hear the dulled music of a future EP rumbling beneath the house.

“MaXXXine” is the star-studded conclusion to Ti West’s “X” horror film trilogy, a thrilling and thought-provoking tale of the tragedy and depravity of the pursuit of fame, particularly through the female experience.

Starring Mia Goth, “MaXXXine” is a gripping watch as a standalone film. However, as part of a whole, it does not quite live up to its predecessors, “X” and “Pearl,” both released in 2022.

The hour and 41 minutes-long flick follows Goth as Maxine Minx, adult film star, aspiring actress and final girl of “X,” as she is finally getting her break — the one that will make her the “f–cking movie star,” she tells herself in the mirror.

However, a serial killer targeting her fellow actresses and adult performers threatens to reveal her past, including her connection to deaths at a Texas farm where reels of an adult film she starred in turned up.

In an attempt to ground the narrative in reality, the killer is called the Night Stalker and the killings are contextualized with news footage covering the real Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez, who terrorized Los Angeles between 1984 and 1985.

Given the in-movie killer’s real identity, this choice is puzzling, because similar choices to ground “X” and “Pearl” were not made. 

The “X” trilogy centers around issues at the darker depths of humanity: desire, fame, morality, religion and sex and its commodification. 

Subversive issues do not need to be noticeable to be impactful if they are addressed in creative and compelling ways, which West has been successful at thus far. It is disappointing to see “MaXXXine” falter in that respect.

At the same time, Goth’s stunning performance as the titular character makes up for the film’s narrative weaknesses. The 5’10” actress towers even taller in Minx’s signature stiletto boots, which she uses at one point to crush the testicles of a man who corners her in an alley, a ghoulishly funny scene to watch.

Minx is cool, stoic and single-minded, which Goth channels expertly with sparse inflection, a powerful gaze and a fast-paced walk, often ending with the slamming door of her convertible before she speeds off onto a busy L.A. street.

Other standout performances include Giancarlo Esposito as Minx’s dedicated and comedic agent and lawyer Teddy Knight, Kevin Bacon as John Labat, the greasy and vengeful private detective pursuing Minx, and Elizabeth Debicki as the ambitious and stoic director Elizabeth Bender, the one person who seems to intimidate Minx.

The one outright bad performance is quite short: Halsey as Minx’s fellow adult performer Tabby Martin. Halsey’s acting struggles overshadowed the character being portrayed.

It is hard to remember a single thing Martin said because of Halsey’s awful East Coast accent. Her presence in this film serves more as celebrity eye candy than a substantive character, but perhaps that is why her performance duration is so short.

“MaXXXine” is the latest addition to A24’s oeuvre of thought-provoking horror films. Suspense is timely and balanced and the gore is experimental, but not gratuitous if you know what to expect by now.

What is more, “MaXXXine” and the “X” trilogy tap into the ultimate cultural subversion: a horror film about sex.

Parallels can be drawn between the 1980s and today with rising conservatism, immense inflation and moral panics running amok. It makes sense that a story about an adult film star running from an evangelical past and chasing fame is so resonant today — it gets at the darker parts of humanity that surround us which we are trying to shield our eyes from.

Maxine Minx is a unique final girl because she not only demands that it be her but knows that it will be. Her desire defines her identity, personality and actions, which allows her to cheat death time and time again.

Her mantra, instilled in her by her highly influential evangelical pastor father, is “I will not accept a life I do not deserve.”

It is a powerful phrase — one that is easy to leave the movie with on-repeat in your head. It also makes it harder to accept this middle-of-the-road conclusion that the “X” trilogy deserved more from.

Vogue Down, a Minneapolis ballroom collective, brought face, body and undeniable energy to its first-ever showcase at the Coffman Union Great Hall Friday.

The seven-member collective channeled education about ballroom culture, a highly influential Black and Latinx LGBTQ+ subculture, through an electrifying performance and a witty and welcoming attitude.

Known simply as ballroom, the subculture revolves around balls, competitions where queer, trans and gender-expansive people perform different drag genres and categories, according to Grinnell College.

Black and Latinx queer and trans people spearheaded the subculture in reaction to the exclusionary all-white balls of the 1920s and popularized it from the 1960s to today.

“It’s such important work uplifting Black and brown queer voices in ball culture,” said Mycall Akeem Riley, director of the University of Minnesota Gender and Sexuality Center for Queer and Trans Life (GSC).

The GSC organized the event to conclude their month-long event series celebrating Pride Month.

“The main goal of the GSC has always been to think intersectionally, to think about those on the margins of our movements,” Riley said. “(Ballroom) is such a beautiful way to think about queerness.”

Awareness of ballroom in the popular consciousness has been raised through shows such as “Pose,”  “Legendary” and the 1990 documentary “Paris is Burning.” 

Vogue Down MPLS co-CEO Don Thompson acknowledged the gaps still left for most people at the beginning of the showcase.

Thompson told the audience the purpose of the showcase was “so you know what happens when you actually come to the ball.”

The showcase began with a rundown of ballroom etiquette, which revolved around maintaining high energy.

“Energy is what makes the ball, what makes the girls feel it,” Thompson said. 

One of the ways this is accomplished is through clapping to the beat of the music contestants walk to. By the time the event was over, the palms of my hands were glowing pink.

The most exciting part of the evening was when Vogue Down invited audience members to walk in the Runway category, including the subcategories All-American and European.

The main difference between the two is gender presentation. All-American is more masculine with a stick-straight walk, while European incorporates more feminine hip movements into its walk (“way more girly about the situation,” in the words of Thomspon).

A person sporting a dark brown business suit with a green tie was the first to attempt the All-American walk. They brought an effortless swagger to the stage, rendering a minimal walk into an engaging performance of the steely business executive archetype.

A heartwarming moment came when a young child, who looked to be around five years old, got on stage to walk European. Her pink dress swayed and her arm swung back and forth as she marched down the runway with stompy, little kid confidence and hand on hip.

“Give it up for House of Disney Channel!” joked Wariboko Semenitari, known as Wari 007, another collective member. When she finished her walk she received the most applause from the audience.

Houses in ballroom are a cross between a team and a chosen family that performers often represent at balls, indicated by their last name in their alias. In the case of Wari 007, they do not belong to a house, hence their last name.

The showcase concluded with a demonstration of voguing followed by battles between teams of two.

Voguing utilizes fast, stylized arm and hand movements, sharp poses and low-to-the-ground foot movements, according to Grinnell College. A performance is a combination of the five elements of voguing: duckwalking, catwalking, floor performance, hand performance and spins and dips.

“You take these pieces and you put them together in your own way,” said Vogue Down member and co-CEO Yoni Light while addressing the crowd. “Vogue is not just dance, it’s a feeling.”

Zetovi Dillard, a fourth-year University of Minnesota student, participated in ballroom before and said this was her fourth Vogue Down event.

“(Ballroom) feels like a sacred space to me,” Dillard said. “Just watching is like I’m witnessing the beauty within my community and my subculture as a Black trans woman.”

Dillard said the low-pressure atmosphere motivated her to perform at the showcase and helped ease her mind of getting chopped, or eliminated.

“Even when I am nervous, it’s out of love,” she said.

Dillard said she hopes the showcase will help to bring ballroom culture to the University, something she has wanted to see happen for a while.

 “I think people enjoyed themselves,” she said. “Even if no one else did I know that I did.”

As Pride Month comes to a close, it is crucial to learn about Black and brown queer culture. It was Black and brown lesbians and trans women, such as Marsha P. Johnson, Stormé DeLarverie and Sylvia Rivera, who were the key players of the Stonewall Riots.

On a wider scale, much of the language of ballroom has proliferated through popular culture, “Too often the taking is done without giving credit to the community,” according to Google Arts and Culture.

“We would not have Pride without trans-Black women,” Light said in an interveiw. “You gotta know where you come from to know where you are and where you’re going.”

Even with classes out for the summer, a college student’s time may still be consumed with work and other obligations. Nearly 90% of students report working in some capacity this season, according to the National Recreation and Park Association.

However, school is only out for some. In 2020, nearly 7 million students took summer courses, according to The Hechinger Report.

Taking time to indulge in our hobbies is incredibly valuable, especially with the freedom and leisure summer brings.

“We’re more than just what we do for work,” said Jake Loeffler, a clinical psychologist at Boynton Health’s Student Counseling Services. 

Loeffler said it is easy to get into “survival mode” during the semester, which makes summer the perfect time to notice the benefits of leisurely activities.

Those benefits include increased creativity, cognitive stimulation and sensory engagement, which calms the nervous system, according to Loeffler.

Loeffler said that group-oriented hobbies can also reduce loneliness and isolation. He said the unity he feels playing soccer with others is “almost like an orchestra playing together.”

Another burgeoning opportunity for a communal hobby is taking shape in Twin Cities Skaters and their new studio in Uptown.

James Adams, founder of Twin Cities Skaters, has roller skated for most of his life, a hobby he reinvigorated 10 years ago as physical therapy for his knees after playing basketball.

“What I loved about it as a child is just like the wheels and being able to roll and go fast,” Adams said. “Now I enjoy the community building and the dancing part of it. I enjoy the teaching aspect. I love everything about it.”

The studio, at the corner of Hennepin Avenue and 31st Street, occupies the space of a former furniture store. It is a wide-open space with a polished concrete floor, energizing dance music and murals adorning its walls. A mural depicting Prince is in progress on the wall facing Hennepin Avenue.

Twin Cities Skaters hosts weekly roller disco events at Rice Park in downtown St. Paul. More events and skating opportunities can be found on their Instagram page and website.

“If you want a night of sober fun, come to Uptown,” Adams said.

Summer hobbies do not need to be movement-oriented, knitting or crocheting are perfect portable activities to bring anywhere, like from the beach to the living room.

Ty Lind is a Minneapolis Community & Technical College student and local crochet artist who got obsessed with the craft two years ago. 

“It’s very meditative,” Lind said. “I always have to do something with my hands. Plus you get something out of it.”

Since then, Lind started sharing and selling their colorful creations and offering commissions on Instagram.

Lind was selling at the Pride Makers Market on Saturday in downtown Minneapolis. They sat behind their booth in the dark space, booming with club music, crocheting a periwinkle mesh sweater someone commissioned for a production of “Romeo and Juliet.”

Lind said monetizing their hobby was a good way to show others what they were making and bring in extra money, but it sometimes took the fun out of crocheting.

“Making things just for myself or gifts for others usually feels better,” Lind said.

Loeffler agreed that monetizing a hobby can be stressful, but it can also provide an opportunity to connect with others over that hobby.

“It’s just important to check in with yourself,” Loeffler said. “Finding that balance of doing it for yourself but potentially exploring what it could be.”

A big hurdle for people when it comes to trying a new hobby can be perfectionism, or not wanting to try something for the fear of being bad at it. 

However, Loeffler said that hobbies can normalize mistakes, therefore reducing anxiety.

“I tell everybody that I started by falling,” said Aaron Hayes, a performer at Twin Cities Skaters. “All you gotta do is try it one time, get inspired by that one feeling, and you’ll be able to grow.”

Since Charli XCX’s highly anticipated sixth studio album “BRAT” was released on June 7, memes imitating its incredibly simplistic cover have spread across the internet.

The cover is ironic, given the record’s high energy and meticulous production paired with a vulnerable, authentic lyricism which the artist called “unique minimalism.”

“We went back and forth on deciding which production tools to ban vs which to lean on,” the artist wrote in her Instagram post announcing the album’s release. 

Charli also wrote that they looked through 65 shades of green to find “the final most ultimate most brat green.”

Charli teamed up with her long-term executive producer and hyperpop pioneer, A.G. Cook, along with British DJs Finn Keane and Hudson Mohawke to put out the 15-track, 40-minute record evocative of the London rave scene where she first started performing.

From the beginning, listening to “BRAT” feels like going out dancing with Charli. She warms us up with the short and sweet opener “360” while still keeping our eyes on her. She’s everywhere, all 360 degrees around us.

Once we are warmed up, Charli wastes no time picking up speed with the pulsing second track “Club classics.” 

A repeating phrase in this song is “I wanna dance to me.” Charli compels the listener to want the same with a warped, hyper-pop beat that brings to mind the sweat marks and blinding lights she sings about. It is a celebration of the songs it is trying — and succeeding — to be.

“Sympathy is a knife” marks the climax of the album’s first third with more vulnerable lyrics while maintaining high energy and danceability.

Charli expresses her insecurity and decries the sympathy people are giving her as fake, aiming to comfort her ego and save her career rather than her feelings.

“I’m embarrassed to have it, but need the sympathy,” she sings right before the chorus where she compares that sympathy to a knife.

Vulnerability and danceability intertwine in “Sympathy is a knife.” It portrays dancing as more than a fun activity and instead a form of distracting yourself from internal or external struggles — it can be a way to express your deepest insecurities.

Following “Sympathy is a knife” is the album’s shortest song, a slow, two-minute water break called “I might say something stupid.” 

Charli continues expressing her struggles with fame and insecurity. It seems as if the angry and frustrated tears of the previous song have dried, leaving her and the listener empty.

“I’m famous but not quite / But I’m perfect in the background / One foot in a normal life,” she sings. “I go so cold, I go so cold / And I don’t know if I belong here anymore, I-”

Charli gets us back on our feet with track five, “Talk talk,” an upbeat, pop love song about the thrill of chasing a crush.

My favorite track and the album’s lead single “Von dutch” marks the approximate halfway point of the album. Finn Keane brings expert production to this pulsing EDM track and Charli’s distorted vocals and limited tonal range scratch the brain so well.

“Von dutch, cult classic but I still pop,” she drones. Yes, Miss XCX, you do.

It is hard to resist singing the praises of every track on the rest of the album, but I will stick to naming a few highlights.

“So I” is a tender, piano-dominated tribute to the late music producer and artist SOPHIE, with whom Charli had a close, creative and personal relationship. Charli sings about regretting pushing SOPHIE away, thinking she wasn’t cool enough for SOPHIE and how she wouldn’t have if she knew she was going to die.

The energetic dance pop tracks “B2b” and “Mean girls” have also proven to be fan favorites and help maintain a consistent sound throughout the record.

The concluding track, “365,” is a reworked, sped-up version of the opener. A song decidedly about partying, it combines the best parts of the production of “Club classics” and the infectious melody of “360.”

At this point in the album and our night out with Charli, she has shown us her true colors and what lies behind the unabashed confidence she brings to the floor. That vulnerability takes on a different meaning and renders Charli’s invitation to dance with her undeniable.

Even hearing her call herself a “brat,” at this point, is incredibly endearing.

“Who the f— are you? I’m a brat when I’m bumpin’ that,” she raps. “Now I wanna hear my track, are you bumpin’ that?”

It is easy for those unfamiliar with Charli XCX music to call it “club music” and consider it shallow. At the same time, people do not dance for no reason. They dance to escape as well as to feel. 

On “BRAT,” Charli encourages both.

Whether or not you identify as LGBTQ+, engaging with queer history and culture is always a worthy endeavor, especially during Pride Month.

Maintaining queer visibility is a continuous struggle, especially today and throughout literature. According to Axios, the books in 2023 most targeted for bans in America centered on LGBTQ+ experiences and people of color.

There’s power in finding a book that’s incredibly relatable or reveals a new experience. In sum, choosing to read queer literature is an act of solidarity.

Here are five books recommended by local queer people:

“Giovanni’s Room” by James Baldwin (1956)

Gabe McHenry, 23, a worker at the Jean-Nickolaus Tretter Collection in LGBT Studies, said the 1956 novel “Giovanni’s Room” is “the most tender gay book Baldwin has to offer.”

The book is a glimpse into the life of an American man living in Paris who starts an affair with an Italian bartender he meets at a gay bar named Giovanni. At 159 pages, McHenry called it an easy, short read with an interesting plot that is easy to get sucked into.

McHenry said he put off reading the last 50-or-so pages of “Giovanni’s Room” because he “wasn’t prepared” for the hurt he was going to feel.

“It was pretty intense,” he said. “I think it would provoke strong emotion in anyone, gay or not.”

Overall, the tenderness and depth of “Giovanni’s Room,” according to McHenry, would provide a rich reading experience for anyone.

“We Both Laughed in Pleasure” by Lou Sullivan, ed. Ellis Martin & Zach Ozma (2019)

Another recommendation from McHenry, “We Both Laughed in Pleasure” is a collection of diary entries by transgender rights activist Lou Sullivan from 1961 to 1991, the year of Sullivan’s death.

McHenry said “We Both Laughed in Pleasure” is his favorite piece of queer literature and Sullivan is a huge reason why he can exist as himself today.

Sullivan lobbied for gay transgender males to receive gender-affirming surgery. Before the late 1980s, it was expected for transgender people to fill stereotypical heterosexual gender roles and be denied gender-affirming care if they were openly gay.

“He forced the medical establishment to acknowledge gay trans people,” McHenry said.

“We Both Laughed in Pleasure” includes entries from when Sullivan was a child and had his first thoughts of wanting to be a boy.

“There’s no more intimate look into someone’s life than writing from when they were a really small child,” McHenry said.

McHenry said reading the book solidified a feeling of community, even though he had been out as gay and trans for many years before he first read it.

A 2019 “New Yorker” review of the book called it “a radical testament to trans happiness.”

“Gender Queer” by Maia Kobabe (2019)

Like “We Both Laughed in Pleasure,” Kobabe’s 2019 graphic memoir “Gender Queer” starts in the author’s childhood and travels through many significant experiences in their discovery of their gender.

The recommendation comes from Jaden Lowden, 35, a Minneapolis resident and first-time visitor to the Quatrefoil Library, a nonprofit LGBTQ+ library and community center in the Phillips neighborhood.

Lowden came to Quatrefoil to find “Gender Queer,” which they said they had read half of and wanted to continue reading.

“I’ve never read something so incredibly me before,” they said.

Lowden highly recommended it for people “so outside the gender binary” like they are.

“Gender Queer” is an important read because of how challenged its presence is in school libraries. The American Library Association ranked it the most challenged book in 2023 for its queer themes and sexual content.

Still, “Publisher’s Weekly” said in its 2019 review that the memoir “relates, with sometimes painful honesty, the experience of growing up non-gender-conforming.”

“A Safe Girl to Love” by Casey Plett (2014)

Brynn Lee, 43, Lowden’s roommate and fellow Quatrefoil visitor, recommended Casey Plett’s collection of short stories featuring young trans women in various settings and experiences.

She guided me to the return-to-shelf cart where she had been eyeing the book.

Author Casey Plett grew up in a Mennonite family in rural Manitoba, Canada. One of the settings featured in “A Safe Girl to Love” is a small town in the same province.

Plett’s experience as a trans woman is not dissimilar from many others’ – denial of identity due to internalized transphobia, a victim of bullying in school and a lack of family support among other obstacles.

Still, the book aims to show how “growing up as a trans girl can be charming, funny, frustrating, or sad, but never will it be predictable,” according to its publisher’s website.

“Stone Butch Blues” by Leslie Feinberg (1993)

This recommendation comes partially from me since this novel came up multiple times in my conversations with Lowden and Lee at Quatrefoil. 

“Stone Butch Blues” is another queer classic. Similar to “Giovanni’s Room,” “Stone Butch Blues” is an intense read that packs punch after punch of emotion.

Lowden said they had to “be in the right mindset” to start reading it, but eventually, they just had to take the plunge.

“Stone Butch Blues” is a semi-autobiographical novel that follows Jess Goldberg, a butch lesbian, through her exploration and struggles with gender identity, intimate relationships, labor organizing and poverty in New York during the second half of the 20th century.

Life is never easy for Goldberg — she faces violence for being gay, insecurity and isolation from being a transmasculine butch lesbian along with physical and emotional pain from living in poverty.

Like “Gender Queer,” this book depicts queer suffering with painful honesty. At the same time, as the 2014 Slate obituary for Feinberg states, “It also shows the healing power of love and political activism.”

Both Lee and I assured Lowden that “Stone Butch Blues” has a quite happy — if not, satisfying — ending. Suffering is an unavoidable dimension of the queer experience, but that doesn’t mean we will never know joy.

The queer experience is rich, multifaceted and ultimately human. I hope these recommendations reflect that and so much more.

The American Craft Fest (ACF), held June 8 and 9 at the Union Depot in St. Paul, was bustling with crafters and guests of all ages.

The event was a first for the American Craft Council (ACC) and hosted vendors displaying a wide range of what crafts can be. The crafters included more traditional ceramicists, jewelry makers and textile artists as well as a local kombucha company and an astrologer.

Eric Wilson, director of marketing and communications for the ACC, said creating this broad perspective was intentional.

“Craft is having a moment and we want to support that moment as much as possible,” Wilson said.

One crafter was Katja Johnson, a recent University of Minnesota graduate and assistant manager at Mudluk Pottery in south Minneapolis. Johnson demonstrated how to sculpt bananas in a variety of sizes and ripeness out of clay. I had seen this technique on Instagram, which is what compelled me to visit the Craft Fest on Sunday.

“OK, bananas. Cool, but why?” Johnson said, imitating a theoretical skeptic of their demonstration. “OK, but why not?”

Visitors to the Mudluk Pottery table were hardly skeptical of Johnson’s craft, though. Two children came up to the table, clearly entranced by the miniature bananas out for display.

“You can touch it,” Johnson told them. The child pinched it between their small fingers. “It just needs to be fired, though.”

Another visitor, an older woman, beamed at Johnson. “Those just make me smile,” she laughed.

Johnson described their seemingly random choice to sculpt bananas to demonstrate ceramics as elevating an everyday object to rediscover meaning in the mundane.

“It’s a whimsical take on replication,” Johnson said. “There are so many different emotional attachments to objects which create a million different pathways to memory.”

Johnson said someone had commented on the overripe banana, saying it was time to make banana bread. A random, fun object had become significant through replication, impulse and creativity.

My favorites were the bunch of three small, plump plantains. It brought back a memory of seeing them for the first time at a grocery store and delightfully admiring how cute they were.

Wilson said the ACF was “an opportunity to get up close with craft” and was meant to “(shrink) the distance between maker and attendee.” 

Roxanne Richardson of the Weaver’s Guild of Minnesota explained how to spin yarn on a wheel and demonstrated by having me pull apart a clump of wool from her hand.

She told me to pull just until there was a thin, sinewy connection between the clump in her hand and the one in mine. Then she told me to twist clockwise.

“The wheel does the twisting for you,” Richardson said as she pushed the pedals of the wheel with her feet. The yarn twisted and spun through the larger main wheel before collecting around a smaller wheel on top, which formed the spool of yarn.

Richardson, a knitter by craft and spinner for five years, told me about spinning classes at the Weaver’s Guild where attendees can get wheels to use.

My next stop was the Textile Center’s table where I pounded plant matter into treated cotton with a hammer. The result was a sweet-smelling, splotchy, artful mess.

I tried kombucha samples from Northstar Kombucha, locally made in Northeast Minneapolis. Their grapefruit basil flavor had an explosion of bright herbiness at the end but a fruitiness that was too neutral.

The powerful sweetness of white peach reminded me of my favorite juice as a kid: Ocean Spray white-cranberry strawberry.

I was on my way out before I spotted the sign for astrology readings by Silver Rising Astrology, housed at The Future, a metaphysical store in south Minneapolis.

I told the astrologer, Lacey Prpić Hedtke, I was surprised to see astrology at a craft fest.

“I love the Craft Council,” she said, adding that it was not her first time doing readings at a craft fest.

Prpić Hedtke (who is an Aquarius sun, Aries moon and Taurus rising, for those interested) said she had been interested in astrology since she was 12.

“It helps me understand who I am and how other people are,” she said.

Prpić Hedtke said she turned her interest into a business when she realized she could help others.

“Being an astrologer is a lot like being a therapist, and I love giving people pep talks,” she said. “People can see themselves reflected in a chart and I can help them understand themselves better.”

I agree the categorical nature of astrology is very pleasing, but it is interesting to see how no two people with the same sign or placement are alike.

Prpić Hedtke brought up twins as an example, and I thought of my own twin, whose Leo voice and energy boom over mine but whose heart is just as big as mine and always holds space for me.

Although I did not buy things at the Craft Fest, I left feeling excited and connected, and I intend to return next year.

Walking through a residential neighborhood on a warm summer day, it’s not uncommon to stumble across a Little Free Library.

They’re those colorful house-shaped boxes on stilts filled with books that are unique fixtures in any neighborhood. In Como, I’ve counted five.

Behind those boxes is the non-profit organization Little Free Library, which today is based in St. Paul. The late Todd Bol started Little Free Library in 2009 by building one in Hudson, Wisconsin in memory of his mother, a book lover and school teacher who had recently passed.

“We believe all people are empowered when the opportunity to discover a personally relevant book to read is not limited by time, space, or privilege,” said the organization’s website.

Today, there are over 180,000 libraries across 121 countries and on all seven continents, according to Little Free Library Director of Communications Margaret Aldrich.

It always excites me to see a little library and what’s inside, though their contents are, simply put, hit-or-miss.

Most of the time it’s pulp novels all by the same author that were donated en masse or children’s books outgrown by previous owners.

LeShay Andrewin, 21, a University of Minnesota senior, said there’s usually nothing to their taste, such as Black literature, in the little libraries in their St. Paul neighborhood.

“Every time I see one I get excited, but then it’s excitement then disappointment,” Andrewin said.

That is not to say that there are never any gems in a little library. I once found a complete special edition set of the “Hunger Games” trilogy and a self-published book of sewing patterns from 1987 with a handwritten dedication in the same library in the Midway neighborhood of St. Paul.

Em Inserra, 21, also a senior at the University, said she found a hardcover “Calvin and Hobbes” anthology the first time she ever looked in a little library as a kid. It became her favorite book from her childhood and is now a coffee table book of hers.

Inserra said she also loves finding pre-owned, annotated books in little libraries.

“That’s probably my favorite part,” she said. “It’s a totally different way to read the book and get a different perspective.”

Little libraries can also facilitate mutual aid in neighborhoods by storing free food and other necessities for people to take. I found a sealed bag of rice in the library outside of the University Baptist Church during a walk on Thursday.

“I’ve seen canned goods or mittens or things like that [in little libraries],” said Tori Wensloff, 24, a recent University graduate and bookseller at Wild Rumpus Books in Linden Hills. “I like that that wasn’t the original purpose but that it’s kind of spun into that.”

There’s also hidden potential for art projects.

I found vintage horticulture magazines and used them for collages. I have also found the same black and white photocopied collage zine titled “Banana Shake” distributed among libraries in Como.

In 2022, University Relations and partners had libraries installed across campus. Locations included nearby the Rarig Center on West Bank, the 4th Street Ramp on East Bank and outside the St. Paul Student Center.

There’s also a library outside the Robert J. Jones Urban Research Outreach-Engagement Center (UROC) in the Willard-Hay neighborhood in northwest Minneapolis.

“The Little Free Libraries are intended to help engage the University community and encourage reading,” the University said in its original statement.

However, it seems that even those most excited about little libraries haven’t noticed the ones around campus.

Wensloff hadn’t heard about the libraries until I mentioned them, but now that they have graduated, they said they probably wouldn’t be returning to campus.

Andrewin said they found CDs and the “Twilight” series in the little library next to Rarig. On Sunday, I found “The Complete French Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke” in that same library and exchanged it for a zine about the history of the Cedar-Riverside neighborhood.

However, people do interact with little libraries. According to Little Free Library’s website, one book is shared on average in a Little Free Library every day.

Both Wensloff and Andrewin said they’ve donated books they don’t read or like anymore.

“There’s definitely a vibe of community,” Wensloff said. “I have a lot of books to share.”

Wensloff spoke of the serendipity of little libraries. Once when they were having a bad day, they found a book in a little library called “Read this when you’re blue.” They said it felt like it had been waiting for them.

As the fight for Palestinian liberation and the student activism movement heat up, local activists are using art as a medium of expression.

After three days of protests, the sidewalk outside Coffman Union is filled with chalk drawings with pro-Palestinian messages. A multi-colored hopscotch grid goes up to 11 and ends with the anti-police slogan “F— 12.”

Annie Russell-Pribnow, a University of Minnesota fourth-year student, was handing out yellow posters with a design reading “SETTLERS F— OFF, STOP THE ANNEXATION OF PALESTINE” in bold black font framing a keffiyeh-wearing figure at Tuesday’s encampment protest.

Russell-Pribnow is an avid printmaker and an organizer with Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), the MN Anti-War Committee and Freedom Road Socialist Organization. 

“[Art] is how I can contribute beyond my baseline organizing,” Russell-Pribnow said. “It’s something I enjoy doing.”

They’re behind designs you may have seen around campus, such as the iconic “Joan Gabel And Her Piglets” design seen on t-shirts and posters in 2021. It depicts the former University president walking several pet pigs wearing police uniforms on leashes and wearing a shirt saying “I [heart] my cop dad.”

Russell-Pribnow considers themself an organizer-artist. Just three days after their 18th birthday, George Floyd was murdered, sparking a summer of uprisings that activated their activism.

They joined SDS immediately when they started college. After being diagnosed with ADHD and prescribed Adderall, they said they found the mental capacity to make more art and their activism emerged as a natural theme.

“Art is such a valuable tool for emotional connection and communicating ideas,” Russell-Pribnow said. “Protest art is still so influential today, which is really f—in’ cool.”

At the same time, they said a poster or a print doesn’t make change by itself.

“Protest art is either extremely undervalued or overvalued,” they said. “There needs to be a movement behind the poster.”

Across town in Whittier, a new chapter of SDS is starting at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design (MCAD). Founder and president Drew Ellingson said they hope it will grow a stronger political force on campus.

“I have a strong disdain for political apathy,” Ellingson said. “I believe in empowering students at MCAD, especially incoming freshmen. I can help organize them and form them and hopefully, we can make something happen.”

A rising fourth-year student at MCAD, Ellingson, a filmmaker and creative writer, said he plans to take documentary production and political propaganda classes in the fall and eventually make documentaries on Camp Nenookaasi and the Palestinian liberation movement in Minnesota.

Ellingson said key issues MCAD SDS seeks to address include accessibility at the Morrison Building, making the overpriced required meal plan optional and securing better pay for staff and faculty through unionization.

Although they’re currently the only member, Ellingson hopes that collaborating with other student organizations will gain traction for MCAD SDS.

“There’s a concerning lack of interest among some students,” Ellingson said. “I feel like some students here talk the talk but don’t walk the walk. That’s why I want to start SDS: to get people off their asses.”

Russell-Pribnow said hyperindividualism among artists in art schools could be what’s discouraging activism.

Still, activist artists are finding creative ways to meaningfully engage with their communities and support causes for change.

One such artist is Leo Rose Rodriguez, a Minneapolis-based poet. The proceeds from their chapbook, “Eretz: Jewish Poems for Palestine,” help support the charity Medical Aid for Palestinians. They also illustrated the cover.

“I’m making art about the things that are important to me, a lot of which are the injustices of the world,” Rodriguez said. “It’s something that flows really naturally. It’s good to know that my art is doing something more than just symbolically.”

Rodriguez, who is Jewish, said it’s especially important for them to use their voice to fight for Palestinian liberation.

“The mainstream narrative is that you can’t support Jews and Palestine,” Rodriguez said. 

After Oct. 7, Rodriguez said they felt like they needed to do something or else they would lose their mind.

The title “Eretz” comes from the traditional Jewish name for the very land in the southern Levant that is also known as Palestine: “Eretz-Yisrael.” 

According to Rodriguez’s website, the poems “present a counternarrative to conflation of the State of Israel with the Jewish people by those who claim to carry out a genocide in Palestine in their name.”

Each of these artists understands the power activist art has. Protest art isn’t the change itself, but it is what sustains and nourishes it.

“Art is a community building that transcends your specific time and place, which is really beautiful,” Rodriguez said.

Never was there a more colorful and enchanting place housed in a simple, one-story brick building than the Minnesota Textile Center. 

The center is a national nonprofit fiber arts organization nestled on the corner of University Avenue, just a short stroll away from the Prospect Park Green Line station. It’s a unique nexus of artmaking, education and community hidden in plain sight.

“It’s a place of reunion,” said Vicky Eidelsztein, a part-time associate in the center’s retail store. “People are members here for many years. There’s a group of women that come in and sit in the library to work on their sewing projects together.”

From crochet to rug making to quilting, Textile Center is a resource for everyone, regardless of skill level, interested in the fiber arts — appreciators, beginners and masters alike.

According to Mia Finnamore, the center’s communications director, Textile Center programs fall into three categories: education, exhibitions and retail.

Textile Center offers classes in a variety of mediums at all skill levels taught by artists from around the world. Their Pat O’Connor Library contains over 32,000 volumes about all fiber art media. Their “Garden to Dye For” grows plants anyone can forage to make natural dyes.

It features exhibitions, such as Mary Logue’s “My Life in Rugs,” that are always free for public viewing. Its retail shop, brightly and cheerfully lit by the building’s large front windows, offers tools and guides to different mediums as well as items crafted by Textile Center members and other local artists.

Four women — Carla Adams, Margaret Miller, Paula Pfaff and Nedra Granquist — incorporated Textile Center 30 years ago to fill a need for a space of community, education and sharing of art in the fiber arts community, according to their website’s “History” page. 

Today, Textile Center remains an important institution within the fiber arts community locally and nationally. It also stands to be a great resource for the upcoming generations of fiber artists.

In the age of the COVID-19 pandemic and environmental degradation due to the fast fashion industry, Gen Z has created a fiber arts renaissance, especially knitting and crochet. A cursory TikTok search of #knittok shows videos with likes ranging from the thousands to hundreds of thousands.

When I visited Textile Center on Tuesday, their delivery receiving room was stuffed with boxes upon boxes of donations of all things fabric arts that they were preparing to sell at their garage sale April 19-21, a key event they host twice every year. 

“We have two completely full rooms of things that would otherwise potentially end up in landfills,” said Erin Husted, the center’s retail and merchandising director. “Then we sell it to the community at highly, highly discounted prices.”

Husted and Finnamore agreed the garage sale is a great way for students and young people to get involved with Textile Center or step foot in the world of fiber arts in general.

“The supplies for fiber arts can be really expensive if you’re buying them brand new,” Husted said. “This way you can find knitting needles for a dollar, a huge bag of fabric for 15 bucks, acrylic yarn for a buck a skein … it’s really accessible.”

All proceeds from the garage sale go back into the center’s other programming, according to Husted.

Students can also become Textile Center members, which comes with its own set of perks, at a discounted rate of $30 per year.

Moving forward, Husted said Textile Center aims to prioritize growing its presence as well as the diversity of its leadership and community — particularly in age as well as in race. 

“We do think fiber art is for all,” Husted said. “We’re making sure we are bringing in lots of voices, not just the ones of our founders.”

Though fiber arts has been practiced since humanity’s beginnings, its relegation as “women’s work” has trivialized its artistic potential, as well as the potential for others to try it. Exploring places like Textile Center and building community within them is the way to break down those stereotypes and truly open up the craft to everyone.

Needless to say, I’ll be stopping by the garage sale. Perhaps I’ll finally get an embroidery hoop for cheap or a vintage crochet pattern book. Whatever I find, I’ll know it’ll be from a place that welcomes me as I am.