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UMMA’s Strange You Never Knew is the first solo exhibition from Jarod Lew, a Detroit-based Chinese American photographer who grew up in Ferndale. As an adult, Lew discovered his mother had previously been engaged to Vincent Chin, a Chinese American autoworker. It was this engagement Chin was celebrating in 1982 when he was beaten to death with a baseball bat by two laid-off Chrysler workers outside of a strip club in Highland Park, a notorious hate crime that became a rallying cry for the Asian American civil rights movement. Chin’s killers were sentenced to a fine and probation but no jail time, the judge explaining that the white perpetrators “weren’t the kind of men you send to jail.”

Billed as “photographs of the Asian American diaspora in the Midwest,” Strange You Never Knew is an anthropological study as much as an artistic one. Much of the exhibit consists of Lew’s large-scale photos of Asian American Detroiters, both his own family (his mother is heavily featured) and others inside their homes. The tone is restrained, perhaps a bit uneasy. Children sit alongside their parents and elders, gazing outward, aware of the camera and each other, but there is a tension in their body language and facial expressions. It’s as if the subjects have things they want to say to each other, but can’t. The elders’ chosen environments have a specific feel: inlaid wooden furniture; flashes of gold and bright red; Buddha statues; potted bamboo plants; a pile of shoes next to a garage door. This decor is contrasted with the style of the younger generation: ironic t-shirts, Pokémon dolls, dyed hair.

In the center of the exhibit is Mimicry, a photo series in which Lew took old photos he found at the estate sale of a white family in Detroit and replaced their faces with his own. The series is presented as a carousel slideshow projected onto a screen in a comfortable recreation of a midcentury American living room. These images are occasionally interrupted by unedited photos showing the sort of casual racism Asian Americans have become used to, such as the white family taking part in a “Chinese-themed” party. The effect is comical, disconcerting, strange, highlighting how people of Asian descent have been left out of Detroit’s history.

Humming in the background of all of this is the murder of Vincent Chin, a singularly terrifying event for the Asian diaspora nationwide, but especially in the Detroit area, where the rise of the Japanese automotive industry had been blamed for an economic downturn and rising racial resentment. The final piece of the exhibit is a fascinating, interactive audio-visual installation, titled The New Challengers Strike Back: On one side, a contemporary local newscast featuring a group of white Detroiters smashing a 1978 Toyota Corolla with a sledgehammer in front of a Chinese restaurant. Next to that, an interactive segment of the 1991 classic Super Nintendo game Street Fighter II, in which museum visitors are invited to destroy a car with karate on-screen. The foggy analog audio of the former and the tinny 16-bit music of the latter loop endlessly as you peruse the exhibit, a tense cacophony that suggests both the metaphorical impression the crime left on the Asian community, and a classic Japanese video game echoing through the dens of countless ’90s American households.

A complex marriage of history, identity, and physical space, Strange You Never Knew feels less like an exhibition of individual works and more like a single cohesive piece of art. It can be overwhelming, but that’s the point; if an artwork’s message were easy to convey, the artist would simply write it down. Visitors should give themselves time to dwell in, meditate on, and simply experience the atmosphere as it washes over them, situating them in a hyper-specific place, time, and culture.

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Throughout his long life, Leon Makielski—Polish American son of South Bend, Indiana; Paris-trained Impressionist; U-M art instructor; friend of Robert Frost—painted tirelessly. At the time of his death in 1974, Makielski’s farmhouse, near the corner of Geddes and Arlington, was full to bursting with portraits, still lifes, and landscapes, over 3,000 in total. His fusion of Midwestern subjects with rigorous European technique won Makielski the title “Ann Arbor’s Monet.”

An impressive selection of Makielski’s landscape work can now be seen at the Michigan Art Gallery in Pittsfield Twp. This exhibit and sale, lasting until May, shows sixty-one paintings, almost all of them landscapes, painted en plein air in Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan. (The gallery plans another exhibit of Makielski’s European landscapes, painted during his training there between 1909 and 1913, and yet another for his many portraits of U-M faculty and other notable figures.)

The exhibit is a fabulously high-quality clearance sale. “About 80 percent of these pieces came from the farmhouse and from the berry farm,” said curator Elizabeth O’Connell. Leon’s twin sons, Ed and Don, founded the Makielski Berry Farm on Platt in 1955, and Ed carried it on until his death in 2017.

Ed’s widow, Diane Makielski, “passed away in the fall, so [the family is] selling the house. That’s when we came in,” says O’Connell, who runs the gallery for Schmidt’s auction house. “The family hung the paintings floor-to-ceiling in the farmhouse. We had to do very little restoration—it was mostly a problem of dust.”

Makielski studied under Monet at Giverny, and the Impressionist influence is easy to see. His Illinois work, painted in his twenties during summers spent at the Eagle’s Nest Art Colony, practically radiates the lazy warmth of early autumn, with brushstrokes in deep golds and greens, rendering rural Illinois haystacks in a manner reminiscent of Monet’s own Haystacks series. Meanwhile, his work in South Bend shows the Standpipe water tower and the University of Notre Dame’s Golden Dome benevolently looming over the St. Joe river in summer pastel glory, much as La Salute rises over the Grand Canal in Monet’s Venice.

The artist spent the majority of his career in Michigan, however, and it’s during this stretch that Makielski’s landscapes really sing. There is a strong sense of place in them, an appreciation of the character and natural beauty that’s still visible today between Pittsfield’s new subdivisions. In one standout piece, Makielski appears to have placed his easel right in the middle of Jackson Rd. (far less of a death wish in 1923 than it is today), depicting the rear of an automobile as it trundles away from him, under the long shadows of trees and power lines.

Makielski gave up his teaching job in 1927, only to see his waiting list of twenty-seven portrait commissions vanish during the Depression. Fortunately, the federal Works Progress Administration was hiring artists, and a particularly striking and magnetic piece is a six-foot-wide tempera study for a WPA mural that Makielski painted in the Lincoln Consolidated School (now Brick Elementary). It depicts residents gathering for a “work bee” to construct its sidewalks and running track. “It’s one of my favorite pieces,” says O’Connell. “We found it in the attic of the Makielski farm, and it took us several months to get it straightened out because it had warped a little bit.”

The pastoral richness of Makielski’s Michigan paintings demonstrates his fondness for the state, and especially for Ann Arbor, his chosen home. “There’s something in the Michigan pieces where you see his European-Midwest synthesis,” says O’Connell. “The bigness of the sky, that special lushness that you see in Michigan.”

Jim and Kathleen Mangi were married for 49 years. Environmental scientists and college sweethearts, they lived and worked all over the country: Alabama, New York, North Carolina, Washington, Virginia. When Kathleen was still in her 50s, she developed younger-onset Alzheimer’s disease. 

For a few years after her diagnosis, the Mangis remained active in their Northern Virginia community, facing mixed experiences when they went out into public. Eventually, they relocated to Saline, a city of about nine thousand in Washtenaw County, to be closer to their adult daughter, Charlene, who lives 10 miles north in Ann Arbor. In Saline, the Mangis lived in a supportive senior community and Kathleen transitioned to professional memory care. With more time and support, Jim Mangi turned his focus outward. "That gave me the bandwidth to look back and say, Okay, here I am. What can I do to help somebody else?” 

To begin, Mangi offered a public lecture series about dementia and caregiving, free and open to all. "That ran for eight Wednesday nights, and got a consistent crowd of about 50 people,” said Mangi. “That told us there was a lot of interest in this subject of dementia and caregiving.”  

The basics are worth noting: In Washtenaw County alone, there are over fifty thousand seniors. Ten percent of seniors have a form of dementia, including Alzheimer’s. A person with dementia lives an average of eight years following their diagnosis. The vast majority of people with dementia live at home, either alone or with care partners. 

Mangi had the sense that the interest generated at his lectures could be channeled into something. Drawing on his experience with Kathleen as well as national models from the D.C.-based nonprofit Dementia Friendly America, he initiated informal conversations with City officials, senior care workers, and his pastor. He presented a proposal, titled Envisioning a Dementia Friendly Community, laying out the vision of what a dementia friendly community looks like. It included simple best practices for assisting people with dementia in a wide variety of contexts: libraries, home inspections, policing.  

Saline Mayor Brian Marl was there. “At the end of my presentation, Brian stood right up and said, Yes. We should do that,” said Mangi, with a smile.  

The City of Saline soon issued a formal proclamation and invited Mangi’s group to provide dementia awareness training to Saline's municipal workforce. “I want everybody to feel embraced, comfortable, and safe in the Saline community,” Marl said. “That’s my standard since I was sworn in as mayor in January of 2013.” 

That early municipal support helped establish what would become Dementia Friendly Saline (DFS), now operating as Dementia Friendly Services (“to suggest that we are not just limited to the lovely city of Saline,” says Mangi). DFS has grown from a volunteer-led initiative to a part-time staff of six, and now offers education and programming to a range of sectors in the Saline community. One of the original lecture titles has become something of a mantra for Mangi and DFS: It’s a disease, not a disgrace. 

“We need to destigmatize it,” says Marl. “It's nothing to be afraid of; these are human beings. They’re our loved ones, they’re our brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, moms and dads, dear friends who are struggling with a debilitating illness. But we can still provide comfort and care, give them the best quality of life possible." 

Chelsea Harvey joined as the organization’s first employee in 2022 and now serves as director of programming. “The disease itself is a problem, but we also have a cultural problem,” says Harvey. “That’s something we all have the power to do something about. It starts with awareness and education.” 

Most people living with dementia remain in their homes, while still taking part in public life and relying on neighborhood services. That makes it critical, says Harvey, to train not just caregivers but also frontline workers in businesses, churches, banks, and restaurants. “We’re not going to ask a business to make expensive changes,” she said. “We’re going to ask them to slow down, be patient, and understand what people with dementia might need to feel safe.” 

To date, the organization has trained about 50 businesses and agencies in Saline and neighboring communities. Training content is adapted to fit each setting—for example, addressing financial protection when working with banks and realtors, or hospitality considerations for restaurants and theaters. 

One of the group’s most popular programs is the Memory Café, a twice-monthly social event held in a church, community center, or other accessible space, intended for individuals with dementia and their care partners. Coordinated by board member Lori Venable, the program began with six attendees—two of them Venable and her husband, Tom, who has dementia—and now draws between 60 and 70 people per session. “We want people to not feel isolated,” Venable said. “The number one objective is to have fun and to socialize. There's no rules. Everybody can just come as they are. It’s not a respite program where you leave your loved one—it’s an opportunity for both of you to be together.” 

The atmosphere of the Memory Café is friendly, casual, and supportive. The first hour typically features live music or a performer (when I attended, the entertainment was a magician), and the second hour includes interactive activities such as crafts, icebreakers, or chair yoga. “I like to structure it so the first hour is something engaging, and the second hour is more hands-on,” Venable said. “It gives people a chance to talk, to laugh, to connect.” The Memory Café also functions as a low-pressure entry point for information and resources. Refreshments are often provided by local senior care agencies, allowing attendees to casually interact with service providers. 

Another part of the initiative is the Dementia Friendly Screening film series, held by DFS in partnership with the Saline location of Emagine Entertainment, a regional cinema chain based in Troy. These monthly matinees are intended for people with dementia and their caregivers and feature classic movies, particularly musicals (June’s selection is the 1952 Audrey Hepburn–Gregory Peck romp Roman Holiday) in a modified theater setting—lights up, sound down, and a relaxed atmosphere. “We tell people to forget the rules,” Mangi said. “Go ahead and talk during the movie, get up, move around, sing, even dance in the aisles.” The screenings are staffed by DFS volunteers, who help caregivers with check-in, seating, and restroom navigation. The program has since expanded to other Emagine theaters throughout Michigan. “They’re intensely proud of their participation in the Dementia Friendly movie initiative,” said Marl. 

Although a relatively small city, Saline's approach is being felt throughout Southeast Michigan. DFS is consulting with leaders in Rochester Hills, Chelsea, Ann Arbor, and Grass Lake to help set up similar programming. The goal is for people with dementia to be welcome, not isolated, and accommodated everywhere any other resident would be: at City Hall, in stores, at the post office. Says Mangi, “We want to help build communities where people walk toward someone with dementia, not away from them.” 

Kathleen Mangi passed away in early 2025. “I have completed a 17-year caregiving journey with my wife,” says Jim Mangi with great fondness. The work is not yet done. With continued support from Mayor Marl and the City of Saline, DFS continues to refine its programs while helping other municipalities take their first steps. "Just the fact that we know that the City has our back,” says Mangi. "That’s sufficient—and it's extremely valuable.”

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The winner of the 2024 Community Excellence Award was the City of Houghton with Connecting Houghton, a placemaking project decades in the making that transformed the city’s aging downtown and waterfront into a vibrant, accessible, and unique public space through a combination of incremental change, community engagement, and D.I.Y. spirit. 

For years, this city of about 8,300 on the Upper Peninsula’s Keweenaw Waterway had been developing its waterfront, a muddy, hazardous industrial area originally used by trains and freighters hauling copper and coal. “We started acquiring waterfront property in the ‘70s and ‘80s,” said Tom Merz, mayor of Houghton from 1996 to 2006 and chairperson of the city's planning commission. “By 1990, most of it was public. The goal was to transform it from a place where kids weren’t allowed to play into the place where you bring your kids.” 

A key development in the project took place in 2006 with the dedication of the new Portage Lake District Library on the waterfront (the old library building is now a community center). "I don't know if this is true, but I'll tell it anyway, because it's a good story,” said Merz. "We're the only library in Michigan where you can drive right up to the dock. We have a sign facing the water on the waterfront, and people can just pull up in a boat and go to the library.” 

In 2015, Houghton’s Beautification Committee began, made up entirely of volunteers (including the wives of both Merz and city manager Eric Waara), which meets on Tuesday nights. “There would be two volunteers some nights, others there would be 11,” said Waara. “It started with a mural, donated plants, gardens. Suddenly more murals are getting painted—it started to build on itself. Someone would thin out their daylilies or hostas, they’d all end up in my driveway, I’d haul them somewhere. The Beautification Committee planted the flowers where there were none before. It was really organic, no pun intended.” 

As the committee worked its magic, the City noticed that Houghton residents were starting to naturally gravitate towards the waterfront. “It was people lingering. Having picnics and just sitting on benches, watching the world go by,” said Waara. 

The ball was rolling, but the City was still hoping to build something more akin to a “town square.” And so, in 2018, they started working with the Michigan Economic Development Corporation (MEDC) to secure funding to rebuild the pier, which saw its fruition in what Waara described as “a ginormous gathering space downtown.” Community & Business Development Director Amy Zawada worked with DPW to install firepits, tables, and other amenities to attract even more residents down to the waterfront and its new pier. 

The project had long been hindered by what Waara described as “the 800-pound gorilla that we had worked around for 40 years.” This was a rapidly deteriorating, blighted parking deck that ate up valuable sunlight and tens of thousands of square feet of space. Built in 1978, the structure had its own history as the first municipal parking deck in the Upper Peninsula—but had long since overstayed its usefulness. 

$1.6 million had already been sunk into maintaining the parking deck, with the hope of getting at least a decade of use out of it, but by year eight, it was clear that the City was at a crossroads.  

Instead of spending millions more on repairs, it was decided the best choice would be for the parking deck to come down. Houghton received a $1 million MEDC revitalization and placemaking grant in 2022 and bonded for the demolition and infrastructure improvements. Once the eyesore of the parking deck had been removed, the City was faced with wide-open space that cried out for redevelopment.  

Houghton worked with a landscape architect to create a space designed for people, not just cars, including engineered rain gardens and a universal access ramp to allow pedestrians of all abilities to move between Main Street and the waterfront. Beautification Committee volunteers added plants from the local nursery. DPW took advantage of a mild winter to build amenities along the waterfront, including wooden porch swings, benches, and a “lunch counter” with bar stools overlooking the water. 

Faced with the problem of pizza boxes clogging up garbage cans, Houghton once again got creative. "I looked all over Hell's half acre, every park supply place and Google: Does anybody make something for jamming pizza boxes into? Nope,” said Waara. “Okay! Public Works, here's a sketch. Make something like this. So now we have receptacles on the waterfront, basically a mailbox for your pizza box, that doesn't jam up the garbage cans. Because one pizza box at 4 on Friday afternoon means that garbage can is pretty much out of service till Saturday morning, when the guys come out to empty them.” 

Bolstered by a new Social District, Houghton’s waterfront now has a buzzing events calendar: a growing concert series, Fall Fest, the New Year’s Eve Chook Drop, and Jibba Jabba, a snowboarding competition sponsored by Red Bull and featuring over 30 professional snowboarders (including, this year, eight female snowboarders).  

“We were having placemaking meetings, just kind of a mishmash of community members that would get together to brainstorm stuff,” said Zawada. “Jibba Jabba was something we did a decade or more ago. It was really popular but fell by the wayside. People would say, you guys should bring that back somehow. And at the placemaking meeting we said, let’s do it.” 

The City intentionally left some areas of the waterfront empty as an opportunity for further development. “We're gonna leave this space, see how it feels when it's all done. And then we'll figure out what to do with it,” said Waara. “Once you can stand there and people walk there, you get ideas.”  

“It's like when you have a living room,” added Zawada. “You don't want to jam your living room full of furniture. You leave it open and spacious, and you can do all sorts of really fun stuff.” 

In 2025, Houghton is looking to improve accessibility for boaters and kayakers. The City is also focusing on supporting existing infrastructure, ensuring that the revitalized waterfront stays in great shape for the next half-century.  

“It’s a beautiful place,” said Waara. “You got sunrises, you got sunsets, you got date nights, you got jogging and walking, kids and dogs and people learning how to ride bikes. That was always the intent—we wanted to turn back toward the water as a public resource, instead of just a place to load and unload coal and vegetables.” 

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In January, the Under Secretary of State for Economic Growth, Energy, and the Environment, Jose W. Fernandez, and the Michigan Municipal League Foundation announced the launch of Michigan’s new Subnational Diplomacy Working Group, the first in the nation. This nonpartisan group will develop a subnational diplomacy strategy for Michigan, exploring how communities can leverage international economic partnerships. 

Prior to the creation of the Working Group, Julie Egan, Senior Fellow at the MML Foundation and a former U.S. diplomat, had facilitated trips for Michigan leaders to Armenia, Oman, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates, intended to spark dialogue on economic collaboration. We spoke with several participants in this nonpartisan initiative to learn more about it. 

What is “subnational diplomacy”? 

Helen Johnson (President, MML Foundation): Subnational diplomacy refers to the global partnerships that can be formed between city and state leaders and leaders all over the world, either in collaboration with the federal government or independently.  

Julie Egan (Senior Fellow, MML Foundation): Subnational diplomacy has been an area of focus for a long time in many areas of the world....The unit was founded in 2022, and its mission is to support local leaders who want to build their capacity in international affairs. 

How did the Michigan Municipal League get involved in subnational diplomacy? 

Helen Johnson: The Foundation has been in conversation for quite a long time about bringing innovation to local communities, bringing in people who have big ideas and strong networks, creating a platform for them to advance economic, social, and cultural growth. We saw opportunities to expand into other forms of diplomacy: sports diplomacy, arts and cultural diplomacy, economic diplomacy. Thus, we launched the Senior Fellowship Initiative. 

Michigan is the first state to have a subnational diplomacy initiative. Why Michigan? 

Julie Egan: There was a Eureka! moment between the Foundation, the State Department, and me: Michigan is an important leader. We have the most economically important international border in the country. We have municipalities of all sizes that have international investments. So, we started exploring how Michigan could step forward as a leader in developing a global engagement strategy. 

Assad Turfe (Deputy Executive, Wayne County): Michigan is uniquely positioned to lead in subnational diplomacy because of its diversity, economic strength, and strategic location. Wayne County is one of the most dynamic and globally connected regions in the country. 

Emilie LaGrow (Manager, Village of Cassopolis): Our current governor talks about Michiganders having grit, and I don't think there's anybody grittier than the salt of the earth, rural farming communities that make up 70 percent of our state. We’re just figuring out how to get stuff done. No one is doing it for us. And because of our small size, you're likely to get your project done here much faster than in larger municipalities. 

What are some of the forms this initiative has taken? 

Julie Egan: When Michigan works with the State Department, we want to ensure that Michigan has a seat at the table. We made sure there was a local leader from Michigan on this trip to Armenia, the Oakland County Executive David Coulter. The Memorandum of Understanding, which the State Department helped facilitate, is a first step, showing cooperation between Oakland County and an Armenia province called Tavush. 

For the second phase, the Oakland County Executive organized listening tours within the Armenian American community in Oakland County. He and his team are looking at opportunities to return to Armenia and dig into some specific areas of cooperation. It shows how useful local leaders can be as international advisors of sorts, who can advise and advocate on behalf of their communities. 

A longer trip took place in late 2024 to the Middle East, involving about a dozen participants. 

Bilal Hammoud (Executive Director, American Arab Chamber of Commerce): It was a 10-day trip. We flew to Qatar to attend the Doha Forum. Then Muscat, where we celebrated the 15-year free trade agreement between the U.S. and Oman. After that, we were in Abu Dhabi for two days. Finally, we traveled to Dubai and spent the rest of the trip there. 

Emilie LaGrow: It's an experience that leaves you a little bit speechless, and that doesn't happen to me often. We had a packed schedule. It was not uncommon for us to get our itinerary for the next day at 2 a.m. for a 7:30 a.m. call. It was exhausting, brain-wise, but stimulating at the same time. 

Andrew DeLeeuw (Deputy Administrator, Washtenaw County): A common thing we heard was the desire to diversify economies. People were very cognizant about needing to do more, have more opportunities for their residents in terms of jobs and education, using the benefits from oil and gas to transition into something sustainable. The parallels with the auto industry really jumped out to me, where you have a society that provided a lot of wealth for the region, but the industry is changing and there's a need to think about what comes next. Just a great experience, very educational. 

Julie Egan: The purpose of the trip was to build relationships. These opportunities are now up to the communities to explore. But there were some key projects that were brainstormed, such as the potential of a direct flight between Muscat and Detroit, university partnerships, and partnerships with cultural institutions like the Louvre Abu Dhabi. It was a door-opening mission, aiming to come back with a handful of potentially viable partnerships that could be explored in a second phase. 

Can you speak about some of the other benefits of the trip? 

Julie Egan: One of the highlights for me was seeing the group interact. We were in meetings all day, traveling to different countries, back-to-back meetings. It’s very intense and you get to know people, build bonds. There’s a lot of intellectual exchange, fertile grounds for cross-city, cross-county collaboration that you might not have thought of had you not had the chance to sit with them for days. 

Bilal Hammoud: It was a very productive trip, not just because we got to showcase Michigan to these other folks, but we got to showcase Michigan to Michigan. Counties do not always collaborate; things get siloed. But when you go into these meetings, spend 10 days pitching the same thing, you realize that the people in your group are listening, too. 

Assad Turfe: Beyond economic opportunities, the trip reinforced how much we have in common once we move past cultural differences. Whether in Michigan or the Gulf, people share the same aspirations: strong communities, economic prosperity, and opportunities for future generations. These connections go beyond business. They foster understanding, build relationships, and create a foundation for partnerships that benefit us both. 

Emilie LaGrow: Every meeting we had, every interaction with a sheik or an ambassador or even with each other, every single person wanted the same things for their people that I want for mine in Cassopolis. They want to give them opportunity. They want to ensure that they have a sustainable way of life. They want them to have education and healthcare. Wherever we are in the world, at the end of the day, we all are after the same thing. 

Andrew DeLeeuw: Travel, from my perspective, is a gift. You get to learn a lot of new things. You’re made a little bit uncomfortable — in a good sense, you’re made more open to new things. We were treated very warmly by all the different governments and entities who greeted us; we got a good sense of what their interests are, how they’re looking to grow and advance. I found we share a lot of parallels with each other. 

What are the next steps in the subnational diplomacy initiative? 

Bilal Hammoud: We’re continuing to collaborate with the MML Foundation. Some initiatives that are in the preliminary stages include developing data centers in Washtenaw County, taking advantage of its Brownfield properties, and growing tech infrastructure, as well as strengthening Michigan’s role in AI and technology by fostering partnerships with Gulf-based innovation hubs. 

Julie Egan: There is interest in a second phase, a follow-up trip to be discussed within the Working Group. For potential future trips, Africa—particularly Morocco—is of interest. France has extensive experience with subnational diplomacy and could be informative as a study mission. I think there's still quite a bit to be learned. 

What, in your view, is the value of subnational diplomacy as a concept? 

Bilal Hammoud: Building local relationships is key to ensuring that people, opportunities, and economic development can exchange freely. As Michigan moves forward, we must recognize that it’s time to look outward, embrace a global perspective. This is where subnational diplomacy becomes critical. It’s something I truly believe in, and it’s why having the League as a partner was such an instrumental part of this exchange. 

Emilie LaGrow: It’s about breaking bread and building bridges. It's that human connection that says, this is what my community has to offer. We're going to welcome you with open arms. We’re open for business. We're all after the same things: How one can leave a lasting impact in this community, make it sustainable and better for the next generation. There are opportunities available to all of us, but you have to reach out and get them. You can't be afraid of them. You just have to keep your mind and your doors open — you might be surprised at who walks through. 

Interviews have been edited for length and clarity. 

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At the height of El Movimiento—the Chicano/Latino labor and civil rights movement led by Dolores Huerta and Cesar Chavez—a group of mostly Mexican American U-M social work students founded Trabajadores de la Raza, intended to support underrepresented students and promote justice at the university. This group would evolve into the La Raza Arts and Media Collective, part of a vast network of grassroots organizations throughout the country. In UMMA’s glass-walled Stenn gallery, La Raza: Arts and Media Collective, 1975–Today celebrates its fiftieth anniversary.

Bold and colorful, the exhibit commemorates La Raza’s work at the intersection of art and identity activism, using DIY media to challenge and reframe narratives surrounding the Latino experience in the U.S. The pieces on display include drawings, documentary photography, and the group’s academic publication, the Raza Art & Media Collective Journal. (One piece of digital art, apparently meant to be presented on an old-fashioned tube television, was not operating at the time of our visit.) Fans of zines and their history will have a lot to appreciate; that artform, which emerged in the 1970s with the rise of photocopier technology, was embraced by La Raza wholeheartedly.

At times, the historical exhibit assumes more familiarity with its subject matter than is perhaps warranted. A sign lists the names of the founding members, but simple biographies for each would have been helpful. And while all sections have informational plaques in both English and Spanish, we occasionally felt confronted with a thicket of critical theory jargon (“recuperate public memory,” for example) that obfuscated more than it clarified. Newspaper clippings and plaques documenting La Raza’s interactions with a dizzying spectrum of organizations and activists could be difficult to follow. Something as basic as a timeline would have helped to ground things.

Connecting La Raza’s 1970s roots with contemporary activism, the exhibit also features three commissioned works by Latino artists which address themes of cultural identity in dialogue with the present day. Taking center stage is Aztlán del Norte, by La Raza founding member George Vargas (with Stamps professor Nicole Marroquin and Mina Marroquin-Crow). This striking, 15-foot-tall acrylic wall painting mingles Aztec cosmology with imagery of migrant workers from modern-day Mexico, presenting the U.S. as Aztlán, the Edenic ancestral homeland of the Aztec people. Several gorgeous original silkscreen posters, designed by Marroquin, commemorate the collective in a style that evokes the visual language of protests. (Marroquin also designed a black-and-white wallpaper that covers one wall of the exhibit, made up of other La Raza prints.) The largest piece, 2023 Stamps grad Michelle Inez Hinojosa’s The Ribbons, The Future, adorns the floor-to-ceiling windows that enclose the exhibit. This immense tapestry of semi-transparent PVA film evokes interwoven narratives stretching across time.

Small but substantial, La Raza is worth a trip to UMMA for anyone interested in the interaction between art, politics, and social movements. Not just a collection of pretty pictures and bumper sticker–ready slogans, it demands thoughtful focus from its audience. It is a challenging, fascinating, and worthwhile window into an underrepresented chapter of American history that deserves appreciation, celebration, and further work.

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The legend of the Mothman originated in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, where between November 1966 and December 1967, locals reported sightings of a winged humanoid creature with huge, glowing red eyes. While skeptics argued that the sightings could be attributed to sandhill cranes or large owls, the incidents led to widespread fear and speculation, some believing it to be an extraterrestrial or supernatural entity. After the Silver Bridge collapsed into the Ohio River in December 1967, killing 46 people, theories arose that the Mothman was an omen of impending disaster.

The myth is the jumping-off point for Theatre NOVA’s world premiere of Amber Palmer’s In Search of the Mothman, the first production in an ambitious 2024–25 season (the company’s tenth) of six wholly original shows. The plot, set in the present day, concerns twenty-three-year-old Jordan, who after a series of tragedies quits her teaching job and impulsively relocates from her hometown of Tallahassee to Point Pleasant. She knows nothing about the town, but she’s fascinated by the Mothman legend. She leaves behind her 17-year-old sister, Emily, though she continues to manage Emily’s life from afar, proofreading her college applications and holding her to a rehearsal schedule. Emily is an aspiring professional bassoonist, Jordan an oboist; the girls have a Christmas tradition of performing together for their church.

In a series of vignettes and monologues, the sisters reckon with their present and future, while the tragedies of the past are gradually revealed. There is little room for the narrative to sag; these young women have a lot going on, so much that it threatens to strain the play’s 90-minute runtime. There are questions of sexuality to wrestle with, relationships to navigate, auditions to plan for, traumas to process, dating profiles to refine, and even a dash of the supernatural. Given the sheer number of themes flying around, the significance of the Mothman gets a bit lost in the shuffle, coming back into focus only in the final few scenes.

The sisters are the only characters onstage, and their relationship carries the show. U-M student Carolyn Pierce is excellent as Emily, a sarcastic, insightful, wounded teenager whose expressive face shows every joy and disappointment her young life throws at her, as she struggles with insecurity and the potential loss of her sister. Olivia Kiefer has a more challenging role as her bossy, overachieving, avoidant adult sister, and despite having a lot to say, her Jordan remains something of an enigma.

The direction (by Shelby Seeley) as well as the set and props (by Paul Taylor and Briana O’Neal, respectively) make the most of the intimate space. Pierce and Kiefer are never more than ten feet from the audience, but rarely does the staging feel cramped or airless. Only in one scene did things start to get a bit tight, with audience members craning their necks to see the actresses’ faces. Jeff Alder’s creative lighting suggests a variety of different spaces, and Kennikki Jones-Jones’s sound design is subtle and effective, presenting Emily and Jordan as gifted musicians.

In Search of the Mothman is a meditation on the listlessness of young adulthood; of being borne back ceaselessly into the past; the feeling of being directionless, yet hopeful. Imperfect but thought-provoking, it’s an auspicious start for what promises to be a riveting season of theater at Theatre NOVA.

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The shabby, welcoming confines of the Blind Pig, the beloved Ann Arbor dive bar and longtime music venue on First St., are also host to regular late-night gatherings celebrating the offbeat, idiosyncratic world of B movies.

The series is the brainchild of Blind Pig employee Colum Slevin, who started the Burnout Film Society in 2018 with a friend. “We were a bunch of friends who had one-bedroom apartments,” he says. “We all wanted to watch these movies together, but we didn’t have a space to watch them in.” 

They started out at a now-defunct Main St. music venue. “That first year, we were in the fucking hallway, and it was, like, five people,” he says. 

The following year, they moved to the Blind Pig, migrating out onto the patio when the pandemic hit. And so 8 Ball Movie Night was born.

Every other Tuesday, Slevin picks a double feature based on a theme. Sometimes it’s seasonal, such as for the 4th of July or Halloween; other evenings are themed on a specific actor, such as “Carradine Collisions,” featuring David Carradine, “Hole Lotta Love” with Courtney Love, or “Marxism 101,” a night of Marx Brothers films.

He pairs better-known films with more obscure ones. For “High Seas Adventure,” the draw was the surreal 1990s cult classic Cabin Boy starring Chris Elliott. First, though, Slevin showed Czech director Karel Zeman’s Invention for Destruction, a vivid 1958 semi-animated adventure based on the works of Jules Verne.

“That B-side is the one that I want people to see,” he admits. A pairing of films by Prince featured Purple Rain—but only after he showed Under the Cherry Moon, the musician’s 1986 musical romantic comedy. Though it was poorly reviewed at the time and flopped at the box office, Slevin maintains that “it’s a wonderful movie.” And this way, “you have to actually experience it if you wanna get the ‘sugar-fix’ movie that you’ve seen a couple of times already. … That’s, like, my holy grail for all of this stuff: showing people something that they might not be aware of.”

8 Ball Movie Nights have a homey vibe, with a spread of free snacks and ten to twenty attendees enjoying pitchers of beer. In warmer months, they’re held on the back patio, with the films projected from the roof of the bar onto the gray-painted wall of the office building next door. The atmosphere is loose and funny, with viewers shouting jokes at the screen, Mystery Science Theater 3000–style. There’s a warm camaraderie among the mostly Gen X and Millennial crowd, and a shared appreciation for the unconventional and the unexpected.

Between films, there are trivia contests with prizes for winners after three rounds (a free DVD from Slevin’s large collection, which he brings in a huge tote bag), as well as portable games of mini golf from Ypsilanti-based Putt-R-Round. 

“It’s become this sort of community of friends,” says Slevin. “The response that we’ve had as of late these last couple of years has been so good: just being able to sit down, fuck around, watch something weird and stupid, and just have an experience together.”

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To write his new orchestral piece, Evan Chambers took a walk in the woods.

Commissioned by the City of Dexter last year to write a composition celebrating the bicentennial of its founding, Chambers, a U-M professor of music, decided to focus on the alchemy that arises from the integration of a town with the natural world surrounding it.

“I’m really committed to writing music that’s rooted in place,” says Chambers. “I’m especially committed to local communities—and not just communities of humans, but communities of life.” He was particularly struck by the way Dexter embraces, rather than pushes away, its natural environment: Mill Creek is a sacred place to [residents],” he says. He appreciates “the way the Huron River integrates into the city, and the fact that they’ve taken such beautiful care of the wetland. A particular kind of human culture arises from that.”

Inspired by this harmonious intermingling, Chambers visited many nature areas around Dexter last fall. Allowing the living world to be his guide, he took a sort of musical dictation from the environment: He captured bird calls, the croaking of tree frogs, and the sounds of acorns falling. At the wetlands on the Sloan Preserve, he listened to insects, frogs, birds, and the sound of the water. “Water has many songs in it, too,” notes Chambers. In the oak-hickory forest at the Miller-Smith Preserve, he marveled at how the shagbark hickory peeled in arcs reminiscent of a thumb piano, and wondered if plucking at it would make a pitch.

The result is a one-movement orchestral piece titled from the woods to the waters and home. About twelve minutes in duration, it’s made up of shorter sections based on places in and around the city of Dexter, and will be performed by the Dexter Community Orchestra.

Chambers found a variety of ways to bring natural sounds in the finished piece. The composition incorporates unorthodox instruments, with orchestra members shaking oak branches and plucking spruce cones. Some sections are more experimental; for a section titled “Branching,” Chambers gathered some smaller branches, laid them on musical staff paper, then used the imprints of the leaves as a guide to trace music onto the sheet. The giant oaks of the Miller-Smith Preserve, which reflect centuries of pre-settlement Native American agroforestry, inspired the section “Song of the Grandmother Oak.”

from the woods to the waters and home concludes with an original hymn. Lyric sheets will be passed out and the piece will end with communal singing. Chambers hopes that attendees will feel less like an audience and more a congregation: full participants in the music, rather than spectators.

Dexter, like all cities, is a dynamic organism made up of human beings who contribute as much to its character as do the architec- ture and the natural environment. Chambers hopes that the piece will inspire a variety of positive feelings, but most of all a sense of community. “There is joy and there is hope and there is a peacefulness,” he says. “But also an enthusiasm, in that we can claim our belonging to a place, and to each other.”