Dear beloved readers,
We have a tradition here at Iris. At the end of every semester, we gather for a “celebration,” in a loose sense of the word. In place of our weekly meeting, we set a time before the upcoming break to share a meal, study, and fill each other in on everything that’s happening in our busy lives. Though our finals season gatherings are never sad, solemn goodbyes but rather, hopeful see you laters, I will admit, this semester’s celebration was particularly bittersweet for me. While far from a final departure from the friends and family I’ve found through my work here, I knew it would be the last time that I’d be able to gather together with this amazing team, at least for a little while.
My time guiding this publication has filled me with so much hope that humans can fight back in this age of AI slop, art theft, and heavy-handed resistance against creative work in all of its forms. In an era that overwhelmingly devalues art, it has been a privilege to be a part of a group of creatives dedicated to resisting through the written word. My team’s ability to both record the world from their unique point of view and construct entirely new ones with their (metaphorical) pens is nothing short of magic; I’ve watched them transform experiences drawn from a world that conspires to keep them exhausted, unmotivated, and uninspired into entirely new worlds of their own.
So, beloved reader, I bring you the final edition of Iris for the 2025–2026 academic year, “Together in the End,” created both to honor the incredible team I’ve been fortunate enough to work alongside all year and to reflect the deeply human urge to gather with those we love in order to celebrate endings together. CJ Ackerman-Garvin and incoming Iris author Beck Jewell open our issue with their collaborative piece “Blue Balloons,” a short story exploring feelings of dysphoria and isolation at a gender-reveal party, tailored into a blackout poem by Beck. CJ Ackerman-Garvin also writes solo for this issue in “A Body as Potential,” a series of vignettes imagining the various sensations and experiences of objects not typically considered bodies.
In “Sanc·tu·ary,” Sydney Mclellan and her most influential high school teacher each write one half of a shared poem, reflecting on the warmth, guidance, and joy they have brought to one another’s lives. Like CJ, Sydney also double-publishes this issue, crafting a hopeful dialogue between two survivors of a climate apocalypse in “A conversation about the end.”
Emily Frost and Iris artist Sara Jun illustrate the visions of Saint Hildegard of Bingen as migraine auras to demonstrate how far women in pain throughout history have had to go to find relief in their comic, “Are Migraines a Gift?” Similarly, graduating intern Maxine Prudhomme combines two of his many talents—writing and visual art—into one final piece meant to be experienced in full: “Afterglow.” In “To What End,” Geovanna murphy ruminates on a series of failed past friendships and how they started her down the path that ultimately led her to her best friends.
We also have three spectacular freelance pieces this issue: “Paints for Pigments" and “Tower,” by Ben Chu, and “Haiku,” by Iresha Choudary. To close us out, graduating intern Faith Leslie and her twin sister, Asia Leslie, reflect on the importance of public health through their own personal experiences, looking hopefully toward their future field of work in “A Call for Empathy: Notes on Global Health.”
Simone, Grace, Faith, and Maxine—I am so beyond proud of everything you all have accomplished with Iris and beyond. You all amaze me every day. I’m looking forward to keeping up with all of your post-grad adventures!
CJ, Jo, and Sydney—I'm so excited that you're choosing to continue to create with Iris. Your new team members truly have the most amazing returning interns to look to for guidance. Emily, I wish you the very best as you take over as editor this upcoming year! I am so confident that this publication will blossom under your leadership.
Mary, I know how you feel about sappy goodbyes. I do too. But really—thank you for everything. For always doing the best edits, for selflessly delivering soup when I had mono, for always having amazing stories to tell, and for helping me achieve my dream of law school in so many ways besides writing my recommendation letter. It has been such an honor to learn from you! This is just a see you later.
Iris artists, thank you for the life you bring to this magazine! The sheer amount of time and effort you all put into every piece is so apparent. And finally, thank you, Leigh Ann, Annie, and the entire Social Media and Communications team for always working to help our writers’ work reach new eyes.
Much love,
Lindsey Smith
Editor, Iris Magazine 2025-2026
