Dear readers,
As I settle into my new life in New Jersey, as water pools in my apartment flooring, finding a home between hardened concrete and the laminate above, I find myself privy to a rebirth of sorts. I’ve come to understand The Dilettante to be an ongoing project, something never quite finished, with a life force not quite easily defined. She lives on the back burner, rolling at a simmer, allowing ideas to meld, creative blocks to tenderize, inspiration to thicken.
The Dilettante has gone through many iterations, unsurprisingly oft reflecting my own. The first edition of The Dilettante was published when I was in college, a compilation of personal works stitched together to form a body, like Frankenstein’s monster. I find that words and images take on new life when pieced together as a mosaic, an emergent property of meaning, greater than its component parts. The first copies were bound with a hand-held hole puncher and twine, tied neatly into a bow along each spine. From there, the project expanded, slightly at first, then all at once, a network of creative college students eager to feel seen and heard and part of something. I rode the high of being platformed, even if the platform was of my own creation, its relevance apparent only to the handful of people that surrounded me. Nonetheless, I felt not only a part of something but of its foundation, a community at long last.
As time has passed, The Dilettante died in many minds, but never in my own. I always knew I would return to her, someday, sometime, when I found myself in need of a medium for translation, transforming the world within me into one to be shared by others. Edition 6, published after a four-and-a-half-year hiatus, was a lighthouse flashing through the fog.
Simultaneously solitary and in need of others, not unlike myself, this project yearns for others to complete it. With me, alone, it feels incomplete. I reach through time and space, vision too blurry to be of any use, hoping for another hand to grasp.
In this next era of The Dilettante, in addition to physical editions printed on a publication schedule yet to be determined, I imagine a return to the glory days of the internet: scrolling through articles on Rookie, learning how to be a human in the world, reading poetry and short stories and comics, clicking through image galleries of travels and paintings and collages, absorbing reviews of books and albums and films. The golden age of the World Wide Web made way for community, far before the rise of short-form content and shameless consumerism sold us this bastardized version of empty connection. I’m tired of being forcefed the next best product, the perfect wardrobe and makeup and furniture for whatever aesthetic finds itself in favor with the never-ending, ever-speeding trend cycle. I want opportunities for thoughtful self-reflection. I want to find a mirror through which to see myself, not a mold for me to fit.
This is all to say, I don’t have a clear vision for what The Dilettante is becoming, in the same way that I don’t have a vision for who I am becoming. Nonetheless, I am certain that I’d like to create a community of sorts, to platform ideas and creations that urge us all further along to becoming actualized versions of ourselves. I envision an anthology of works that celebrates differences as the natural complement to similarities, allowing us to reintegrate these divisions of self that have been fractured by the tiny boxes we have been coerced into constructing.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts. If you’re interested in submitting to The Dilettante, whether that’s poetry, short stories, opinion pieces, personal reflections, photography, comics, collages, or other written or visual works, check out our submissions page. If you’re interested in getting involved with The Dilettante in another capacity, or if you have general inquiries, please contact us.
Love,
Vi
The Dilettante 