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Culture Check-In

Culture Check-In: Spring

By: Serenna Sousa ’27

The second it hits 50 and people get even a glimpse of spring, everyone starts acting straight out of a college catalog.

Hoodies are thrown off, spikeball is being played on any free patch of grass, UV levels are suddenly being checked, and half marathon decisions are being made.

Nothing has really changed, but the energy has; and now everything from what we’re wearing to what we’re paying attention to feels slightly different.

What do we even have in store for fashion, tech, art, and everything in between this season?

Keep reading to find out!

Put Together, Kind Of

Sooo we’ve been all rebranding our aesthetics for months now…

And it’s not even subtle anymore. You can see it in what people are wearing; everything feels more intentional, like everyone suddenly has a version of themselves they’re trying to present. Oversized trench, utilitarian pieces, masculine tailoring…like okay, why are we all trying to dress like European casual all of a sudden?

There’s something about it that feels a little…borowed. Like we’re assembling outfits from our situationships. Pieces that aren’t fully ours, but wearing them anyway. Slightly oversized, slightly detached, like we’re trying something on without fully committing to it.

But what’s funny is at the exact same time, we’re leaning just as hard in the opposite direction. Satin, lace, pajama dressing, boudoir everything; like suddenly getting dressed also means looking a little undone, a little softer, a little more intimate.

It’s a weird balance where everything is either structured and put together or intentionally effortless, like you didn’t even try…even though we all know it took you a hot minute to come up with it.

What’s Going on With Tech

And now there’s technology…one of the scariest sectors to even think about right now. It feels like every time you start to understand something, there’s already something newer, faster, and slightly more concerning replacing it. Like we’re all just collectively trying to keep up without questioning enough what we’re keeping up with. 

There’s so much talk around AI verification, trying to prove what’s real online, which somehow makes everything seem less real. And then you have things like Ulta’s AI manicures…which is just the perfect example of all of this.

Instead of picking a color style based on what we actually like, we’re now bringing color theory to our hands…which feels a little excessive. What matches our tone, our vibe, our aesthetic. And it’s supposed to feel personalized, but it almost feels like the opposite.

The more specific it gets, the less it actually feels like a choice.

Honestly, it’s not even that bad, just a little strange. Why are we outsourcing even the smallest decisions about ourselves to ARTIFICIAL intelligence?

And now, microchipping is casually entering the conversation again. Which feels like one of those things that should be a much bigger deal than we’re currently treating it. It’s a little controversial, especially depending on how people interpret it, but somehow still becoming normal. 

Apple of course drops something like the Neo, another sleek, hyper-advanced, budget friendly version of the MacBook which makes it way easier to justify getting one. Same clean look, same feel, just slightly more within reach. Finally, the MacBook has become something people can actually have, not just something some people dream about.

Somehow, the more everything is optimized for us, the less it actually feels like it’s coming from us.

Pop Culture Right Now

We obviously couldn’t forget pop culture…which is somehow struggling with the same thing. Everything is always trying to be everything at once.

Take SYRN, Sydney Sweeney’s new brand, for example. It’s supposed to be all about self-expression, about embracing different sides of yourself. But it ends up feeling a little unclear. Romantic, seductive, playful, effortless…like okay, which one is it?

It’s meant to feel empowering, but still leans so heavily into the male gaze, which kind of contradicts the whole idea. And that’s where it gets a little confusing. It’s trying to say one thing, but visually and stylistically, it’s saying something completely different. It’s trying too hard to be too many things at once, without fully committing to any of them.

The return of things like the America’s Next Top Model documentary on Netflix feels similar. It’s not even about revisiting the show, it’s more like…is Tyra Banks trying to win people back, or is the check inflow just needing a little dusting?

And then, there’s the Oscars, which are supposed to feel like the standard, the final say. You have films like Paul Thomas Anderson’s One Battle After Another dominating with six awards, or Micheal B. Jordan finally winning Best Actor for Sinners, something people have been saying was overdue for a while…at least depending on who you ask.

But even with those big moments, it just doesn’t feel as definitive as it used to. What matters, what gets recognized, all feels like it’s shifting.

What Art Is Turning Into

Art is beginning to feel a little less stable right now. Not necessarily in the work itself, but in what it means and who gets to define it.

With things like Banksy’s identity potentially being revealed, it kind of takes away from what made the work so compelling in the first place. The anonymity was part of it, and once that is taken away, the work starts to feel a little different too.

And with artists like Keith Haring, there’s this conversation around whether his work has been “sanitized” over time, whether something that once felt bold and disruptive is now being softened to fit a different audience. 

The works aren’t even the things that are changing but the way we’re allowed to experience it is. 

And then you have situations like missing Picassos and legal battles over ownership. Where it becomes less about expression and more about control, value, and who gets to claim it. 

It just feels like meaning changes depending on who has control over it.

Maybe that’s just where things are right now. Nothing feels fully set; not style, not meaning, not even what feels real. Everything is sifting, adjusting, being reworked in real time. And instead of having it all figured out, we’re just…kind of going with it.

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Into the Collection

A McMullen Winterlude

By: Emily Barnabas ’26

Winterlude, let’s go down to the chapel

Then come back and cook up a meal

Well, come out when the skating rink glistens

By the sun, near the old crossroad sign

The snow is so cold, but our love can be bold

Winterlude, this dude thinks you’re fine

Winterlude by Bob Dylan may be one of the best snow day songs. By capturing the essence of a slower, simpler life, Dylan’s lyrics evoke the quiet magic and new possibility that arrives with snowfall. With over 20 inches of snow falling in late January, Boston College students enjoyed a winterlude of their own. Whether they were socializing at the “Snarty” in the Mods or curling up with hot chocolate on the couch, the storm provided a welcome reprieve from the frantic start of the semester. 

Moments of winterlude have been documented in art for ages. Whether it be written recollections or visual representations, there is something special about the way that snowfall makes us pause and reflect. The Permanent Collection of the McMullen Museum of Art features several notable snow scenes, those of which capture the transformative nature of winter. In celebration of this season, this feature will highlight selected works from the Permanent Collection, discussing how artists across periods and styles have interpreted the spirit of this time of year.

Anthonij (Anton) Mauve (1838–1888)
Snow Scene with Sheep, c. 1882–88
Oil on canvas, 9.3 x 12.5 in.
McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College, 1988.91

Snow Scene with Sheep depicts a tranquil scene of a clustered flock of sheep with a shepherd trailing nearby in the background. Hands stuffed deep into coat pockets and bundled in layers of dark green, the shepherd’s dedication to tending their flock through the winter chill can be interpreted as a metaphor for social and spiritual care (Howe). Mauve’s use of tonal gradations and soft brush strokes create the illusion of depth, signaling the distance that the flock has traveled. When looking at this work, one may imagine the solitude of this journey and sense the resilience needed to persist through such a landscape. In this suspended moment, the subjects’ movement feels slow and deliberate, each step through the snow symbolizing steadfast care in the midst of nature’s austerity. 

Frank-Meadow Sutcliffe (1853–1941)
Beggars Bridge, Yorkshire in Snow (near Whitby), c. 1900
Albumen print, 8 x 5 in.
McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College, Gift of David L. Mahoney and Winn Ellis, December 2002, 2002.51

Viewing Sutcliffe’s Beggars Bridge is like listening to Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide, exuding feelings of longing, seclusion, and tranquility.

Then I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills

Til the landslide brought me down

An Albumen print, a method of producing photographic print using a mix of egg whites and salt, this intricate snowscape is brought to life in the small fibers of silver nitrate that bind to the paper. Taking a closer look, the variety of lines—visible in the delicate tree branches and gentle curve of Beggars Bridge—guides the viewer’s eye across the composition with soft intention. Placing emphasis on the subtle impressions left in the snow, this graceful scene carries a deeper emotional weight that is reflective of a literal and symbolic passage through the isolation of winter.

Arnie Jarmak (1949–)
Snow Mask, Blizzard of ’78, 1978, 17 x 10.125 in.
McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College, Gift of the Artist, 2021.71

Following a snowstorm in February of 1978, Jarmak took his camera on a stroll to capture the impact of the historic snowstorm which struck the area. Photographing along the Mystic River (Tobin) Bridge, the local cantilever truss bridge which connects Boston and Chelsea, Jarmak encountered an instance of pure joy and winterlude. What appears as a photograph of a masked, but grinning, child in the snow represents so much more: “a recognition of [their] humanity made visible in the final print” (Andersen & Larsen). Jarmak’s photograph tells an additional narrative of Chelsea’s community, one rich in internal pride and resilience. Through the photographic medium, Jarmak’s striking portrait reminds audiences that moments of joy should not be overlooked during times of hardship.

Works Cited

Howe, Jeffrey. “Snow Scene with Sheep.” McMullen Museum of Art, Boston Collegehttps://mcmullenmuseum.bc.edu/anthonij-mauve-snow-scene-with-sheep/. Accessed 9 Mar. 2026

Arnie Jarmak: Photographing Chelsea in Transition, 1977–89. Edited by Ash Anderson and Diana Larsen, McMullen Museum of Art, Boston College,2022. https://bcweb.bc.edu/mcmullen/exhibitions/jarmak/Jarmak.pdf. Accessed 9 Mar. 2026.

Categories
Art Abroad Uncategorized

The Mona Lisa Heist

By: Elona Michael ’28

Amid a quiet Sunday evening at the Louvre, on August 20, 1911, a mysterious man with a peculiar mustache gave birth to the most famous work of art in the world. Well, not literally, but one can make a strong connection to it.

Everyone knows the Mona Lisa, painted by the well-renowned Italian Renaissance painter Leonardo da Vinci, celebrated through its personal yet mysterious depiction of Mona Lisa herself and the artist’s realist techniques. It has become a world-renowned staple, always surrounded by long lines of visitors at the Louvre and endless conspiracy theories online.

Yet, there was once a time when the painting stood as one of the vast selections of Renaissance pieces in the Salon Carré.

In 1908, a young Italian man named Vincenzo Peruggia moved from his small town in northern Italy to Paris, where he found a cleaning and framing job at the Louvre. His duties mainly consisted of maintenance as well as constructing protective cases for certain valuable pieces of art, and this happened to include the box frame surrounding the Mona Lisa. 

After a couple of years, Peruggia left his job at the Louvre, but his time at the museum did not end there. On the quiet maintenance morning of August 21, 1911, dressed in his standard Louvre employee uniform, Peruggia snuck into the museum with no questions asked. He found himself in the Salon Carré and patiently waited for other clueless employees to finish their duties. Once they had left, he carefully picked up the Mona Lisa from the wall and scattered to the service stairwell. 

There, he utilized his mastery of protective case frames and efficiently removed them and forced himself into a closet where he would stay for the rest of the day. And once the museum finally cleared out, he wrapped the painting in his coat and dashed out.

And this officially marks the heist of the 20th century, the heist that started it all. 

Later on, when cleaning staff saw the painting had been removed, they did not dare to investigate, automatically assuming that it had been swiped for repairing or inspection services. It wasn’t until the artist Louis Beroud noticed the blank wall, where the painting had sat, and immediately called security, eventually leading to a 48-hour shutdown of the museum.

The scandal had completely blown up in the media and the larger world. Nobody had known the Mona Lisa, yet everyone was fascinated by the heist. Who stole it? How did they do it? What were the motives? Where is the painting now? And why the Mona Lisa?

The New York Times reported it as the crime of the century. The Washington Post accidentally published the wrong painting when announcing the theft. People around the world curated new conspiracy theories each day on where it was located, from the U.S., Japan, to Russia. 

Many French newspapers fueled and grilled American art collectors and tycoons, such as JP Morgan and vast American millionaires, with accusations of having commissioned the heist to snatch France’s cultural heritage for themselves.

French police investigated every corner. They stopped ships, questioned avant-garde artists such as Pablo Picasso and Guillaume Apollinaire, and hundreds of others. In fact, they were able to find some crucial clues along the way, including the fingerprint on the protective glass stain Peruggia had removed, and even got close enough to the point where they interviewed Peruggia twice, but still assessed no suspect probability. 

The Incredible 1911 Theft of the Mona Lisa | Barnebys Magazine

It wasn’t for another two years that they eventually identified Peruggia as the thief following his attempt to sell the painting to an art dealer in Florence. 

The 28-month global-spanning frenzy led to the birth of the Mona Lisa. Even before its official return, over 120,000 people visited the Louvre just to see the space where it hung. 

And although the heist gave name and fame to the most well-renowned art in the world, it also revealed something greater about society and the way we view art. 

Movies have depicted and glamorized countless heists, further illuminating society’s century-long fascination with theft. The phenomenon of a victimless crime that challenges wealthy institutions gives a thrill to what is the unknown. 

Therefore, it is crucial to question why society becomes captivated with stories of theft. Further illuminating that maybe it isn’t the art itself but what lies before it, how it got there. 

And what does a heist provide? A sensation for investigation, a mind open for imagination, and a mystery that needs to be solved.