Print Magazine 2024

Climate change is transforming how scientists think about their roles

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 18 Apr 2025 15:08:35 +0000

Climate change is transforming how scientists think about their roles Rachel Sauer Fri, 04/18/2025 - 09:08

Sarah Kuta

�� researcher Pedro DiNezio emphasizes solving the problems of climate change in the here and now

When Pedro DiNezio began studying El Niño and La Niña roughly 20 years ago, human-caused climate change was still a future problem. At that time, researchers spent much of their energy trying to show that humans were, in fact, influencing the world’s climate.

Flash forward two decades, and climate change is no longer some far-off, eventual phenomenon—it’s happening now. Communities and businesses are factoring climate change into their yearly, monthly and even weekly decisions.

Against this backdrop, climate scientists are starting to transition away from purely theoretical research and pivot toward more applied work and consulting. DiNezio, a �� associate professor of atmospheric and oceanic sciences, for example, is embarking on a new partnership with WTW, a global insurance broker and risk advisor—an exciting prospect for putting research into practice.

“We can’t stop the drought and the heatwaves, but we can do things to become more resilient, so they don’t affect us as badly—at least for a while,” says Pedro DiNezio, a �� associate professor of atmospheric and oceanic sciences.

“I’m going through a career transformation right now because I’m more and more interested in solving problems in the here and now,” says DiNezio. “Because we now know so much about the climate system and about the impact it could have on society, many of us in academia are feeling that it’s time to act.”

Resilience is key

As global temperatures continue to rise, world leaders are taking steps to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Whether their actions will be enough to stave off catastrophic warming remains to be seen. But, in the meantime, communities and businesses must prepare for and adapt to the unprecedented extremes caused by climate change.

Drought, heatwaves, wildfires, rising sea levels, coastal erosion and other ripple effects are already causing big problems—and scientists like DiNezio might be able to help solve them.

“We can’t stop the drought and the heatwaves, but we can do things to become more resilient, so they don’t affect us as badly—at least for a while,” DiNezio says. “And hopefully we can win that time we need to stabilize the climate.”

For example, research has linked hot weather with an increased risk of accidents and injuries in the workplace. Employees are more likely to suffer heat-related illnesses on hot days. But they’re also more likely to be involved with other seemingly unrelated accidents, too.

From an ethical perspective, companies want to keep their workers safe and healthy. But, from a business perspective, they also want to keep costs down—and workers-compensation insurance is a major expense.

“We’re only starting to learn the full extent of the impact of heatwaves and how we can mitigate them,” says DiNezio. “This is having a huge impact on businesses. So, how do we prevent these accidents?”

As the climate shifts, supply chains are also becoming increasingly vulnerable. When vital waterways like the Panama Canal’s Gatun Lake dry up during droughts, ships cannot reach their intended destinations on time. And those delays cost money.

“You cannot avoid these things, but at least you can know there’s a risk and plan an alternative shipping route,” DiNezio says.

Reinsurance companies are particularly interested in anticipating disasters because they already take a long-term, big-picture view of risk. While a company in one part of the world might be worried about drought and another might be focused on sea level rise, global reinsurance companies see what’s happening around the world and connect the dots.

“Reinsurance companies look for our knowledge because their scale makes them more sensitive to the aggregated effect of climate change over large swaths of the world,” says DiNezio. “They are some of the first businesses to think, ‘How do we anticipate this new climate that is continually changing and prepare for it?’”

Why now?

Climate science is a relatively new field. But, in recent years, it’s matured enough to allow researchers to make predictions that are applicable to communities and businesses.

When vital waterways like the Panama Canal’s Gatun Lake (above) dry up during droughts, ships cannot reach their intended destinations on time. And those delays cost money. (Photo: Valiant/Shutterstock)

“We are starting to see these climate events happening, we have the tools to better predict them, and the climate sector is recognizing this as a problem, as a need,” says DiNezio. “As academics, we cannot ignore them because this is no longer a theoretical exercise.”

Teaching has played an important role in DiNezio’s transformation. After joining the �� faculty four years ago, DiNezio began teaching an introductory-level class on climate change for non-science majors.

Every semester, DiNezio updated the curriculum because the climate was changing so fast. That process has been a bit of a reality check.

“When you talk about it with students, especially non-science majors, they are interested in what effect this could have on their lives and their careers,” says DiNezio. “You have to think about these things more concretely.”

Concrete problems

DiNezio, like other climate scientists who are experimenting with consulting, is approaching this new career chapter with a mix of enthusiasm and anticipation.

“I’m diving into something that I haven’t done before,” DiNezio says. “Sometimes, I describe it to my friend like I’m doing another PhD. … A lot of people in my field are going through this transformation and is entirely new.”

But, in some ways, DiNezio suspects solving real-world problems may be easier than solving theoretical ones. Either way, DiNezio is looking forward to the new challenge.

“When you move away from the purely academic, the problems become really concrete,” DiNezio says. “It’s really simple: How do you prevent heat deaths or help farmers mitigate drought? For me, the new thing is the action. The transformation is, how do we act with all this information about weather and climate? It’s very different from the academic approach. Now, we have a goal.”

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�� researcher Pedro DiNezio emphasizes solving the problems of climate change in the here and now.

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In a whirlwind of change, our core values remain constant

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 17 Apr 2025 18:51:57 +0000

In a whirlwind of change, our core values remain constant Rachel Sauer Thu, 04/17/2025 - 12:51

Daryl Maeda

Higher education is beset by challenges, and �� is not alone in needing to surmount them. While we face today’s difficulties and prepare to meet tomorrow’s, we remain tethered to certain truths, including that a broad university education is more critical than ever to the workforce and to society.

Remaining true to our values is critical as we confront new challenges, and it’s worth noting that overcoming adversity is embedded in the university’s history.

In the 1920s, for instance, the Ku Klux Klan controlled the Colorado Legislature and demanded that then-President George Norlin fire all Catholics and Jews at CU. Norlin refused, even though the Klan-dominated Legislature slashed CU’s budget to zero.

Daryl Maeda is interim dean of the College of Arts and Sciences and a professor of ethnic studies.

In the 1950s, hysteria over communists and “subversives” gripped the nation, prompting state lawmakers to demand the firing of professors who had once associated with communists. The university protected its tenured professors—though, sadly, dismissed some non-tenured faculty. The extent to which CU transcended the moment mirrors the degree to which it adhered to its core values.

Student protests against the Vietnam War in the 1960s drew more legislative fire and pressure to suppress dissent, but the university emerged from this controversial period with its values—academic freedom, free speech and open inquiry—intact.

These episodes hold lessons as we reach a new crossroads. Today, higher education faces broad challenges, including:

Changing demographics. America will likely hit a peak of about 3.5 million high school graduates in 2025, according to some estimates. After that, the pool of prospective college students might shrink by as much as 15% over the next decade. We call this the “enrollment cliff.”
Eroding public opinion. More people question the value of a college degree than at any point in our lifetimes. An increasing number of people believe colleges and universities should focus more on students’ career success. Others question higher education’s commitment to diversity, equity and inclusion.
Declining public funding. For decades, states have been steadily allocating less funding per student. Since 2000, state support per student has dropped by about 40%. Falling public funding drives rising tuition, which propels more student debt.

While the challenges are irrefutable, the best response is a matter of debate.

Some suggest that post-secondary education should focus more on “marketable” skills, “competency”-based education, “upskilling,” “reskilling” and the like. These are reasonable concerns, and the university is addressing them.

In a host of ways, we help students gain specific skills and specialized knowledge that help them pursue satisfying careers. In addition to majors and minors in a wide array of disciplines, we offer an ever-broader selection of certificates, research opportunities, study-abroad opportunities and internship-placement assistance.

Because we want to help students succeed, we provide advising, coaching, scholarships and other support. Predictive analytics help us intervene when students are at risk of dropping out and help them acquire skills to succeed.

At the same time, we are proud that a liberal arts education—which is the bedrock of the College of Arts and Sciences—imparts a host of foundational skills that drive success in a wide range of careers. Critical thinking and communications prowess remain at or near the top of employers’ most-requested employee attributes.

And this makes sense. As the world changes ever more rapidly, people increasingly need the ability to grasp, analyze and share new knowledge. As society grapples with new and vexing problems, those who broadly understand the arts, humanities, natural sciences and social sciences will be better prepared to help our democracy soar.

We know times are changing, and we are adapting. The college experience of today is not that of our forebears. While we adapt, however, we will not forsake our core values, the first of which is a broad education.

On the library that now bears his name, George Norlin’s words—that anyone who knows only this generation remains “always a child”—are literally etched in stone. In times of blistering change, our dedication to core values remains as solid as bedrock.

Daryl Maeda is interim dean of the College of Arts and Sciences.

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Voices of the Andes: Sharing Quechua stories and culture through modern media

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 16 Apr 2025 14:21:08 +0000

Voices of the Andes: Sharing Quechua stories and culture through modern media Rachel Sauer Wed, 04/16/2025 - 08:21

Cody DeBos

In new audio storytelling project, �� scholar Doris Loayza works to preserve the traditional tales and lore of the Peruvian highlands

In the highlands of Peru, Andean cultures have thrived for millennia. There, Quechua, the most widely spoken indigenous language in the Western Hemisphere, is more than just a means of communication—it’s a medium of cultural heritage, stories and traditions.

As a predominantly oral language, Quechua has historically been underrepresented in modern media. To bridge this gap, Doris Loayza, a teaching assistant professor in the �� Latin American and Latinx Studies Center, is on a mission to preserve and revitalize Quechua storytelling. Her project, “Producing and Distributing Audio Stories in Central Quechua of Peru,” aims to capture the voices of Quechua speakers and share their stories with a broader audience.

Doris Loayza (center, brown jacket), a teaching assistant professor in the �� Latin American and Latinx Studies Center, is leading a project to preserve and revitalize Quechua storytelling.

By recording these stories in audio form, Loayza and her team aren’t just connecting with millions of native speakers; they’re also honoring the oral traditions that have kept Quechua alive for centuries.

“We have so much to share and contribute in our own language, because our languages are the repository of our knowledge and our ways of relating with the world,” she says.

Connecting heritage and modern media

Across the Andes—primarily in Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador, with smaller pockets in Columbia, Argentina and even the United States—some 8 to 10 million people speak Quechua. For Loayza, Quechua is more than just a language; it’s a connection to her heritage.

Preserving Quechua stories and traditions is deeply personal for her. Growing up in the central Andes of Peru, she learned the Central Quechua variety from her mother.

“I always loved hearing and telling stories in Quechua,” she recalls. “Growing up, we always listened to the radio, especially the local radio. Today, I still love radio, and now podcasts.”

While earning a master’s degree in Latin American Studies at NYU, Loayza focused her research on Quechua radio in the Andes and learned the Southern Quechua variety. After graduating, she discovered the Colectivo Quechua Central, a volunteer group of native Quechua speakers who publish an online newspaper to promote reading and writing in Central Quechua.

“I reached out and proposed the idea to make audio versions of their newspaper stories, focusing on local cultural topics like food and identity, and then sharing them in a podcast format to distribute to radio stations in the central Peruvian Andes and on social media,” she explains.

Grant supports language education

Doris Loayza, teaching assistant professor at the Latin American and Latinx Studies Center and affiliated faculty of the Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies, along with co-project directors Joe Bryan, Leila Gomez and Ambrocio Gutierrez Lorenzo, has won a two-year, $149,925 National Endowment for the Humanities grant to develop course modules and educational resources about Quechua and Zapotec language and culture as part of efforts to expand and strengthen the Latin American Indigenous Languages and Cultures program.

“The group welcomed the idea, and thanks to support from ��’s Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies, we recorded the first episode this summer in Peru.”

The challenges and joys of storytelling

The lengthy process of recording and distributing audio stories in Central Quechua began with a discussion of where to perform interviews—and what to talk about. For the pilot episode, Loayza and the Colectivo settled on stories about tuqush, the Quechua word for “fermentation.” Tuqush also is an important traditional food in the central Andes, prepared from potato pulp or maize.

“We started in Lima, where thousands of migrants from the central Andes speak the language and are fervent consumers of tuqush,” she explains, “which is known as the penicillin of the Andes because it is a natural antibiotic.

“We got off to a great start because, during our first interview, we were eating tuqush while we were recording, which made the interview really intimate and enjoyable.”

She later traveled to Chavín de Huántar in Peru’s Ancash region, the site of one of the most ancient cultures of the Andes, to reconnect with members of the Colectivo and record nearly 20 more interviews.

“We have so much to share and contribute in our own language, because our languages are the repository of our knowledge and our ways of relating with the world,” says Doris Loayza of her "Producing and Distributing Audio Stories in Central Quechua of Peru" project. (Photo: Doris Loayza)

“One big challenge was finding time to get together because the members of the Colectivo have their own jobs and commitments where they live,” Loayza says.

The team also ran into some pleasant “trouble” when their arrival in Chavín coincided with the first day of a weeklong fiesta.

“I had just started an interview in Chavín when the brass band arrived,” she recalls. “Of course, we had to stop and dance with them at the entrance of the town.”

That wouldn’t be the only memorable moment of the trip. In her hometown of Llamellin, Loyaza interviewed the couple who rent her parent’s farm in the highlands.

“He told me that he still makes tuqush there, but that it was hidden because people used to steal it. He gave me instructions on how to find the site of a stream where potatoes were buried in a hole beneath the water,” she says. “I was excited to find this place on a hot sunny day in the highlands because it was on my father’s land. It meant a lot to me personally.”

After completing the interviews, Loayza and members of the Colectivo began editing the recordings and distributing them to local listeners.

“I learned so much about food, vocabulary and their storytelling style,” Loayza says. “The Andean people, especially Quechua women, are great storytellers. They are so proud to tell their stories.”

Sharing Quechua with everyone

With the successful launch of their pilot episode, Loayza and the Colectivo aim to continue editing and distributing the recorded stories, making them accessible to a wider audience of Quechua speakers.

The Quechua audio stories will also play a role in educating the next generation of students at ��, Loayza says: “With Professor Leila Gómez, we are working on developing a new curriculum to include the Central Quechua variety of these podcasts in our classes and teach it along with the Southern variety that we currently teach.

“Being able to offer both varieties to our students will enrich and expand the cultural understanding of the Quechua culture.”

Loayza adds that she hopes these audio stories will inspire others in Peruvian highland communities to start their own recordings, further preserving the language and its cultural significance.

“It is so important to connect and learn from other indigenous languages and cultures,” she says. “We all have similarities and particularities. Everyone on this team is excited to share their knowledge, enthusiasm and time so that this project continues.”

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In new audio storytelling project, �� scholar Doris Loayza works to preserve the traditional tales and lore of the Peruvian highlands.

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CU grad Erin Macdonald makes it so

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 15 Apr 2025 22:18:50 +0000

CU grad Erin Macdonald makes it so Rachel Sauer Tue, 04/15/2025 - 16:18

Bradley Worrell

The 2009 math and astrophysics double major has successfully transformed herself from a scientist to an educator to a storyteller sailing with the enterprise known as Star Trek

As she worked toward completing her bachelor’s degrees in astrophysics and mathematics at the �� in the late 2000s, Erin Macdonald often enjoyed watching Star Trek: The Next Generation with her college friends. Today, she is a science advisor for the entire Star Trek franchise.

“I don’t think I could have ever conceived it, that being able to work in television and movies was a real thing that people could actually do,” Macdonald says in retrospect. “And if you told me that I would see my name in TV credits—not to mention in the Star Trek font with the Star Trek theme playing—it’s almost unbelievable.”

It’s been a remarkable journey from academia to Hollywood, Macdonald acknowledges. Still, she is quick to add that in a multiverse of possibilities, the outcome was never assured, and it did not happen at warp speed.

�� alumnus Erin Macdonald, who double majored in mathematics and astrophysics, is a science advisor for the Star Trek franchise and author of Star Trek: My First Book of Space. (Photo: Bradley Worrell)

Raised in Fort Collins, Colorado, Macdonald did not grow up watching Star Trek. However, she was deeply motivated to study science after being inspired by the protagonist astronomer Ellie Arroway in the movie Contact, as well as by fictional FBI agent and medical doctor Dana Scully in the popular TV show The X-Files.

“I watched The X-Files growing up, and Dana Scully for me was just the coolest woman who ever existed. That really sparked an excitement to be a scientist,” she says. “And then when Contact came out, watching Dr. Ellie Arroway use a telescope to find aliens, and seeing her legitimately work as an astronomer was the first time I ever saw that as a career.”

Still, there were some obstacles to overcome, Macdonald says, including the fact that math did not come naturally to her.

“In high school, I had friends who were taking classes that seemed to get it. And for me, I felt like I was trudging through mud trying to understand things—but knowing that I had to get through the math,” she says. Finally, when taking a Calculus 3 course at ��, she says she experienced a breakthrough when she came to understand how math worked with physics, and then “everything just clicked.” It prompted her to immediately declare a double major in mathematics and astrophysics.

Gaining another role model

It also was in college that Macdonald was first exposed to Star Trek through a tightknit group of fellow students who were big fans of the TV shows.

“In the Venn diagram of physics majors and Star Trek fans, there is a big intersection,” she says with a laugh. “I was in my early 20s and (fictional) Voyager Captain Catherine Janeway became my new Scully. She was someone who had gone from being a science officer to a captain. At that point, I knew I wanted to get my PhD, but I didn’t necessarily want to be a researcher as a career. So, Janeway was a role model, how she was a leader and a problem-solver and a mentor. It was something I aspired to.”

After graduating from �� in May 2009, Macdonald enrolled at the University of Glasgow in Scotland, where she earned her PhD in astrophysics in 2012. Normally, a master’s degree would be the next educational step after obtaining an undergraduate degree, but Macdonald credits the quality of the education she received at ��—and particularly the research opportunity and mentorship of astrophysics and planetary sciences Professor Jeremy Darling—with allowing her to immediately advance to working toward a doctorate.

After obtaining her PhD, Macdonald spent two years doing post-doctoral research at Cardiff University in Wales, United Kingdom. She later moved back to Colorado, where she worked as an adjunct professor in the community college system and as an educator at the Denver Museum of Nature & Science for about a year, then transitioned to work as an aerospace engineer for a contractor based in the Denver area.

“In the Venn diagram of physics majors and Star Trek fans, there is a big intersection,” says �� alumnus Erin Macdonald. (Photo: Bradley Worrell)

It was during her time working for the contractor, and while attending pop culture conventions for fun, that Macdonald hit upon the idea that she could combine her deep knowledge of astrophysics with her love of science fiction to give talks on the science of science fiction TV shows, movies and videogames at fan conventions.

“After a while in the private sector, I found I really missed teaching. I was already going to conventions, so I proposed giving talks,” she says, adding that event organizers were receptive to the idea. “For topics, a popular one is physics and Star Trek. I’d say, ‘I did my PhD in gravitational physics, so let me explain how (theoretically) warp drives work, because I actually know the science of how warp drives work.’”

To boldly go …

In 2017, Macdonald moved to the Los Angeles area, where she continued to work in the aerospace industry while also giving science/science fiction talks at fan conventions, or as she describes herself in that time: “rocket scientist by day, warp engineering expert by evening.” It was during that period that she began meeting actors and writers at fan events, which ultimately led to industry connections with executives at CBS, the producer of all things Star Trek.

Macdonald was initially hired to give talks at CBS-sponsored events, including Star Trek Cruises. That led to an introduction with the co-executive producer of Star Trek Discovery, who asked Macdonald to serve as a science advisor for the show as season 3 began production.

“I believe I did a good job on that season, so I think the executives saw value in hiring a science advisor to be available to all of their shows to maintain consistency across the franchise, to understand all of the made-up technologies that we have in Star Trek and to be able to communicate that to the writers as well,” she says. “That’s been going on since 2019, so almost five years now.”

Meanwhile, Macdonald has written four screenplays, and she has done voice acting for Star Trek Prodigy, an animated Star Trek show, during which she had the opportunity to work with Kate Mulgrew, the actress who played Captain Janeway on Star Trek Voyager.

“When I started working on Star Trek Prodigy, they were bringing Captain Janeway back as a teacher for young kids. I was going to help write some of her lines, and that was when I had this huge epiphany of—I’m not meant to become Captain Janeway; I’m meant to write Captain Janeway and create characters that inspire kids to become scientists.”

“When I started working on Star Trek Prodigy, they were bringing Captain Janeway back as a teacher for young kids. I was going to help write some of her lines, and that was when I had this huge epiphany of—I’m not meant to become Captain Janeway; I’m meant to write Captain Janeway and create characters that inspire kids to become scientists,” she says. “And so now, I find that storytelling lets me sort of inspire and motivate the next generation of STEM professionals, and that’s what I want to do as a career.”

Macdonald has found her voice as a storyteller in several different ways. In 2022, she published Star Trek: My First Book of Space, an illustrate children’s board book that uses Star Trek to talk about science, technology, engineering, arts and math (STEAM), and she wrote and narrated the Audible Original “The Science of Sci-Fi” in collaboration with The Great Courses.

Additionally, in 2021, McDonald created Spacetime Productions, a film development and production company devoted to giving representation to traditionally marginalized voices, including those in the LGBTQIA+ community. The company has produced two short films including Identiteaze, released on the streaming service Nebula earlier this summer.

Reflecting on her journey from scientist to educator to storyteller, Macdonald says her success is the result of recognizing good opportunities, trusting her instincts, perseverance and, most importantly, putting in the time and work to achieve her goals.

“You know, I didn’t quit my PhD and move to LA with no plan. I took those important steps in between,” she says. “And it took me until well into my 30s for me to realize what I wanted, to be a storyteller and create those Dana Scullys and Captain Janeways, as opposed to becoming one of those characters. And that’s OK. All of those steps along the way helped inform the work I do now.”

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The 2009 math and astrophysics double major has successfully transformed herself from a scientist to an educator to a storyteller sailing with the enterprise known as 'Star Trek.'

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Art and transformation are inherently connected, prof says

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 08 Apr 2025 16:02:54 +0000

Art and transformation are inherently connected, prof says Rachel Sauer Tue, 04/08/2025 - 10:02

Bradley Worrell

For artist and professor of printmaking Melanie Yazzie, making art is about much more than creating something aesthetically pleasing

For Melanie Yazzie, professor of art practices and head of printmaking in the Department of Art and Art History at the ��, art and transformation are intrinsically connected.

That’s because she describes her art as being much more than just about creating aesthetically pleasing work—it’s a medium for sharing social, cultural and political experiences shaping the lives of native peoples in the United States and beyond. Her artwork—which takes the form of paintings, printmaking, sculptures and ceramics—is shaped by her personal experiences, as well as events and symbols from her Diné (Navajo) culture.

For Melanie Yazzie, a �� professor of art practices and head of printmaking in the Art and Art History, art and transformation are intrinsically connected.

“I think when you’re really digging deep inside yourself and you make a work about something that’s really important, maybe it’s a certain theme you are trying to get across, when someone else sees it and gets it and is affected by it, that’s when you really see the power in artmaking,” she says. “It can transform you as the maker and also the person who sees it.”

Yazzie says her artwork follows the Diné dictum “walk in beauty”—the idea of creating beauty and harmony. “There’s always positive and negative in the world, a sort of yin and yang. In Navajo culture, walking in beauty is really about walking a balanced path and trying to stay in a positive frame of mind,” she explains.

That doesn’t mean avoiding controversial subjects in her art, but she says it does color the approach she takes.

“When I was younger and in grad school, I made artwork that was very much in your face,” Yazzie says. “And in a sense, I was preaching to the choir. People who understood what I was saying would stay and listen, but what I realized with that work was that the people I wanted to reach dismissed (my work) as just, ‘she’s an angry woman or she’s an angry person of color.’”

Today, much of her work straddles the line between abstractionism and representationalism, with recurring motifs of abstracted animal and plant forms, as well as people—notably women—who are rendered in a spectrum of colors. Yazzie says casual gallery viewers have described some of her paintings and prints with words such as “beautiful” and “whimsical” and even “silly.”

For those willing to inquire, however, there are deeper meanings to many of her works, which can tackle such serious issues as the horrible treatment of Native Americans in boarding schools run by the U.S. government from the 1880s to 1920s or the unsolved murders of indigenous women today.

“In a sense, it’s like using honey to draw people in and then educating them,” Yazzie says of her artwork today. “It’s a much slower path, but I’ve seen it over the years making bigger strides than when I was shouting ‘injustice.’”

Particularly with her earlier works, but even in some cases today, Yazzie says some people who “very rigid” in their views don’t appreciate her art. While it’s not always easy to hear, she credits her upbringing on the Navajo nation in northeastern Arizona with keeping her grounded and confident.

“Since a very young age I was brought up among Navajo people and around really strong women role models. That was my foundation,” she says. “So, when people were sometimes rude or racist, I would think back to my grandmother, who only spoke Navajo, and she would explain (their outlook) to me by saying people will sometimes act like bad children, and they don’t understand how to behave, so you have to show more patience with them and have a kind heart.”

Sharing personal experiences

Artwork has allowed Yazzie to tap into and share deeply personal experiences, such as a series of paintings she did after she was first diagnosed with Type II diabetes and was for a time at risk of losing her eyesight. Those paintings were notable for featuring small numbers in “thought bubbles” in the background of various works, capturing her blood sugar highs and lows on a given day.

Yazzie says gallery patrons who are diabetic oftentimes picked up on the hidden numbers. She has enjoyed talking with them about why her numbers were particularly high or very low in certain paintings.

“I think when you’re really digging deep inside yourself and you make a work about something that’s really important, maybe it’s a certain theme you are trying to get across, when someone else sees it and gets it and is affected by it, that’s when you really see the power in artmaking,” says Melanie Yazzie (with her sculpture "Strength from Within"). (Photo: Melanie Yazzie)

“That type of conversation is something that you can only have with someone who understands that illness. And it was beautiful, because for the people who saw the work who were diabetic, it was like a secret language between us,” she says.

She adds, “People sometimes make diabetes like it’s something shameful, but when we talked about it in a public setting, they (patrons) felt embraced and included. That artwork is about creating a space of healing and acceptance.”

And while she is proud of her Navajo cultural heritage, Yazzie says she takes pleasure in the fact that she makes art that people would not normally expect from an indigenous artist.

“I think there are stereotypes of what people—even in my own Navajo community—would classify as being Native American artwork, and I think a lot of times I go against that,” she says, noting she generally eschews paintings of pottery work, tepees or male warriors on horses. “And I think that’s one of the things that makes my work really strong is that it’s unique and different and not fulfilling stereotypes about Native American artwork.”

Through the years, Yazzie’s art has been featured in more than 500 group and solo exhibitions around the world. Her work can always be found at the Glenn Green Gallery in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Just as being an artist can bring transforming knowledge to others, Yazzie says artists need to be open to transformation in their own work and how it is presented. She learned that lesson for herself recently, when people who follow her work asked if she could make her art more accessible, which led her to a new direction as an artist.

“I’ve started doing jewelry pieces and scarves. That idea came from collectors and others who were saying, ‘I have one of your paintings or prints and I wish I could carry it with me when I’m going to see the doctor or because I’m having a hard time now,” she says. “In the Navajo tradition, jewelry is worn for protection and to bring about good things. So, this came about from people who say my work brings them hope.”

Balancing the best of both worlds

Yazzie says she’s been creating art for as long as she can remember. Still, her career path wasn’t always set in stone. Her parents, who were both educators, encouraged her in her formative years to follow their path, as they had some concerns about whether being an artist was a viable career.

“In any community, it’s really a struggle to make a living as an artist, and so I think they were just worried about that,” she says. For a time, she seriously contemplated becoming an English or Spanish teacher, but eventually decided to pursue a career in the arts, a decision she says her parents ultimately came to appreciate.

“My father would always tell me, choose something that you are really passionate about and that you love. And many people say that: that if you do something you love it never really feels like work. That was my experience. I just found that artmaking and being in the artist community really fed me in ways that other things didn’t.”

Today, as a professor at ��, Yazzie says she is able to combine the best of both worlds as an artist and an instructor.

“Being a professor and helping students share their stories and experiences is deeply rewarding,” she says. “I think it’s wonderful to be able to help create a strong human being who is speaking their truth through their artwork.”

Even for �� students who have no interest in pursuing a career in the arts, Yazzie strongly encourages them to take classes that engage their creative side.

“My advice would be: Take an art class, a writing course, a music class, or anything in the creative realm,” she says. “It opens up parts of you that help you see the world in a more well-rounded way, and I think that is the power of a liberal arts education.”

"Remembering Brittany"

"Growing Stronger"

"She's Singing"

"Simon Joe Benally is Looking for a Rich Girlfriend"

"Speak Truth"

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For artist and professor of printmaking Melanie Yazzie, making art is about much more than creating something aesthetically pleasing.

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Dropping perfectionism and embracing purpose and joy

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 07 Apr 2025 15:22:31 +0000

Dropping perfectionism and embracing purpose and joy Rachel Sauer Mon, 04/07/2025 - 09:22

Pam Moore

�� alumna Julie Chavez reflects on her new memoir, which chronicles her journey through a mental health crisis to finding a new motto: ‘Be adequate’

When Julie Chavez (Span’00) graduated from the �� with a major in Spanish language and literature, she didn’t see herself becoming an author. As a self-proclaimed “lifelong reader” who blogged for fun, she’d been told many times that she should write a book.

Although flattered, Chavez, who lives in Pleasanton, California, with her husband Mando Chavez, a 1999 �� graduate, and their two sons, was comfortable in her role as a librarian at her sons’ school. And besides, she says, “I didn’t know what I wanted my story to be.”

�� alumna Julie Chavez (Span’00) describes learning to advocate for herself and let go of her perfectionist tendencies, embracing the motto “be adequate,” in her memoir Everyone But Myself.

That is, until her story found her.

When anxiety and perfectionism culminated in a debilitating panic attack and a paralyzing sense that she was always falling short no matter how hard she tried, Chavez’s world irrevocably changed.

After navigating many obstacles to accessing mental health services, working with a therapist to put her own proverbial oxygen mask on before tending to her family and finally learning to advocate for herself and let go of her perfectionist tendencies, she emerged with a new motto— “be adequate”—and the idea for the book she needed to write.

Told with humor and honesty, Chavez’s new memoir, Everyone But Myself, released last year and named a Washington Post noteworthy book and a USA Today bestseller, chronicles her journey from the depths of a crushing mental health crisis to a life filled with joy and purpose. Chavez spoke with Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine to explain the story behind the story.

Question: What motivated you to write Everyone But Myself?

Chavez: I knew that if I was going to write a book, it would have to have value for readers. Even though I loved writing, I didn’t see myself as a fiction writer and I didn’t think I had a story to tell.

But then I had my annual review with my principal. Over the prior year, my mental health had taken a nosedive, and I thanked her for having shared her own struggles with me during that time. Her candor really helped me through what I call my ‘mid-mom crisis’—which I later learned is something that many over-extended working moms struggle with as our elementary grade kids grow into humans who don’t need us intensely as they once did.

She said, ‘That’s what you should write your book about.’ That was when I realized that my story could truly be helpful for someone else.

Question: Who is Everyone But Myself for?

Chavez: I wish it hadn’t taken debilitating anxiety for me to finally understand that my self-care and creating boundaries around my own happiness was not only good, but necessary.

So, I wrote this for all the readers who see themselves in my story. It’s for the perfectionist moms, the anxious moms, the moms who, in trying to do their best for their families, have inadvertently abandoned themselves.

In her memoir Everyone But Myself, �� alumna Julie Chavez chronicles her journey from the depths of a crushing mental health crisis to a life filled with joy and purpose.

It’s also for all the moms who feel they don’t ‘deserve’ help. I love my life and my family so much. I feel grateful that I get to live a relatively comfortable life. And yet, even with all the privilege I’ve been afforded, I was taken aback at how aggressively and how quickly my mental health declined—and how hard it was to find a therapist when I needed one.

We tend to put our suffering on a ‘sliding scale’ or to minimize it by comparing it to other people’s problems but the truth is, when it’s hard, it’s hard, and it’s OK to ask for help.

Question: What challenges did you encounter on the road to publication?

Chavez: The book you have in your hands is my fourth rewrite. I can’t tell you how many times I asked myself whether it was worth it.

I started writing in the spring of 2019 and by the end of the year I had 30,000 words, which I thought was a book. It wasn’t. Then, I attended a class on publishing, where I learned that without a platform, it would be extremely difficult to find a publisher, particularly for a memoir.

So, I started working with a hybrid publisher, who recommended a rewrite. Meanwhile, [publisher] Zibby Owens’ Book Club published an essay of mine, which was an excerpt from the book, which did really well. Zibby ended up taking me on as one of her first acquisitions, and I parted ways with the hybrid publisher.

Following advice from Zibby’s team, I started a fresh rewrite. Instead of a memoir, it was an essay collection, but it just didn’t work. So now, I had an agent and I was starting with a blank page, which is actually kind of backward. Usually you get an agent once you have a fully written manuscript. I finished that version in December of 2022 and the book was published just over two years later.

Through it all, I had to re-learn the same lesson I learned in the pages of my book—that I had to keep showing up, remember my “why,” and not be too attached to the outcome.

Question: What has surprised you over the course of your publishing journey?

Chavez: There’s been a surprising number of women who have said, ‘You are telling my exact story.’ So many have said that after reading my story, they understand what they’re going through, which has been wonderful.

That was always my hope—that my book could be a friend to them and to open the door to the kinds of conversations we need to have.

But my favorite thing is when someone says they’re giving it to a friend or asks me to sign it for their sister.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

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�� alumna Julie Chavez reflects on her new memoir, which chronicles her journey through a mental health crisis to finding a new motto: ‘Be adequate.’

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Picturing climate change in the West

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 02 Apr 2025 20:57:22 +0000

Picturing climate change in the West Rachel Sauer Wed, 04/02/2025 - 14:57

Rachel Sauer

What began as a hobby for �� economics undergrad Lucas Gauthier came together as a photographic portfolio documenting the already-evident and potential effects of climate change

Lucas Gauthier and his family moved to Colorado when he was in 6th grade, and after a decade of fairly frequent moves—both parents were in the military—this is where everything made sense: mountains for climbing, runs for skiing, trails for hiking and rivers for rafting.

They took some convincing, but eventually his parents let him venture out on his own—forays that grew longer and longer and took him farther and farther into the Colorado wilderness.

Lucas Gauthier, a senior majoring in economics, has photographically documented his adventures in western landscapes since he was in high school.

About four or five years ago, he began taking pictures along the way, usually on his phone. The photography wasn’t the point, necessarily, “but I found that, especially in Colorado, hiking puts you in some very beautiful places,” he explains. “I hike, and the pictures happen while I’m hiking.”

A through line for what had become a large portfolio of photographs emerged in spring 2024. Gauthier, a senior majoring in economics with a focus on natural resource management, was taking ENLP 3100—Complex Leadership Challenges, a class that requires students to complete three projects during the semester.

The first two projects were more technically focused, but the third emphasized creating something of personal value. So, Gauthier thought about all the places in Colorado that he loves, scrolling through both his memories and his photos. He realized that what began as an almost offhanded hobby was actually documenting places that would be or already were altered by climate change.

From that realization was born Climate Change in the West: A Photographic Journal, a multimedia project that incorporates not only data about things like wildfire, heat wave and drought risk and their potential for significant economic impact, but makes it personal with the scenes of incomparable beauty he has witnessed and documented.

“My interest in water specifically came from my interest in hiking and skiing and an interest in all outdoor sports,” Gauthier says. “When people say there’s going to be less rain, less precipitation, that’s a big deal for me.

“I worked and lived in Breckenridge, which is a tourism-dependent area, so if there’s not enough water, that’s weeks of ski season that are lost, and there might not be a rafting season, so that’s where you start to see the overlaps between how climate change is affecting natural systems and the actual economic impacts on livelihoods.”

Capturing what he sees

“My interest in photography has been in capturing this broad swath of environments that we get to play in—as a way to memorialize the experience for myself, and also to share it with others,” Gauthier says.

He took two photography classes in high school, neither of which focused on outdoor or landscape photography, “but I do think those gave me a good idea for how to compose photos and set them up, how to look for different lighting and visual elements,” he says. “They got me in the mindset of thinking, ‘This is something that strikes me, and I’ll see if I can frame it in way that works with what I want to capture.’”

Gauthier was also in high school when he began tackling ever-more-ambitious climbs and started working his way through Colorado’s 58 fourteeners, a goal he completed over the summer. Of those 58, he climbed at least 45 solo.

“(Climbing solo) is kind of a mix of preference and necessity,” Gauthier explains. “It’s easier when the only person you have to plan for logistically is yourself. And when you’re trying to beat lighting and thunder, it’s best to move light and fast.”

However, he never moves so fast that he can’t look around and, if he’s able, to capture what he’s seeing in a photograph. And he returns to certain favorite places, enough that he can compare them season by season or year by year.

“We’ve had a mix of good and bad snow years, but it’s been very noticeable when a particular area that usually has good (snow) coverage into May or June has already melted,” he says. “And there have been times when I’ve hiked through area and a few years later it’s a burn scar, which is a very visceral sense of change in the environment.

“Then there are little things like aspens are yellowing at a different date, wildflowers are blooming and stop blooming at different times. While it’s not as black and white a change, moving those transition points is definitely something that adds up in aggregate.”

Factors of climate change

Now, as he works his way through Colorado’s 100 highest peaks—he’s summited more than 80—and completes his bachelor’s degree, he still is conceptualizing what it all means. Many climate change models are forecast to take decades—if not centuries—to happen, but Gauthier is already seeing anecdotal evidence of them. What does that mean for how he exists in the outdoors and what he’s going to do after he graduates?

“I feel like there is a lot of doom and gloom, and I definitely feel that, but at the same time I am very much a person who feels like I have to say what I’m going to do about it,” he says. “With my area of emphasis in environmental economics, it’s about acknowledging that we have these issues and asking how we address them through actual, tangible means. For me, that means engaging in actual political and broader social processes. When I’m engaged in something, I feel less powerless.

“I think the main point that I wanted to communicate with this project was emphasizing how each of these different factors of climate change are integrated,” he says. “Fires affect water quality, flooding affects agriculture and all of it impacts places that I and a lot of other people love.”

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What began as a hobby for �� economics undergrad Lucas Gauthier came together as a photographic portfolio documenting the already-evident and potential effects of climate change.

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Creating an inclusive and future-focused Hellems

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 04 Feb 2025 20:44:49 +0000

Creating an inclusive and future-focused Hellems Rachel Sauer Tue, 02/04/2025 - 13:44

Supporters revivify not just the building but also what it fosters and represents

John and Karen McLaren didn’t meet in Hellems—they met in a women’s studies class held in Ketchum—but their son William met his fiancée there.

So, as a family they well understand that a university education extends far beyond successive semesters of classes. It’s also a collection of experiences—bright beads on a string that grow, one after another, into something complete and beautiful.

Where those experiences happen is an important part of them, both in the moment and recalled in memory years later. For the 85% of �� undergraduate students who will have taken a class in Hellems Arts and Sciences Building by the time they graduate, the place is a part of the story.

�� alumnus Michael Klump (right), with College of Arts and Sciences Interim Dean Daryl Maeda, gave $2 million to the Hellems Fund for Collective Belonging and the Hellems Fund for Fostering Success. “I owe a lot of my success to attending the University of Colorado, where I had the privilege of meeting inspiring individuals and forming lifelong connections across the country,” says Klump. “These experiences have deeply motivated me to give back and set an example.”

“It’s the center of campus,” says Karen McLaren, explaining what inspired her and John, in part, to donate to the ongoing Hellems renovation. While their names will be on a plaque at the entrance of a conference room in honor of their donation, they see it as not only supporting the physical place—the walls and tables and teaching technology—but the broader idea of experience.

Hellems, then, is more than a building; it is also a symbol, one that heralds the liberal arts, signifies a common student experience and fosters student success. In that vein, supporters like the McLarens buttress two funds that advance these ends: the Hellems Fund for Collective Belonging and the Hellems Fund for Fostering Success.

These funds have garnered support. For instance, in addition to his $13 million donation to fund the Michael A. Klump Center for Real Estate, Klump gave $2 million to the Hellems Fund for Collective Belonging and the Hellems Fund for Fostering Success.

The Hellems Fund for Collective Belonging will provide resources for student mental health and well-being, which inspired Klump to include Hellems as part of his recent $15 million gift to ��. His gift of $2 million to name the Hellems south courtyard will help students find support groups through the Hellems Fund for Collective Belonging. “I owe a lot of my success to attending the University of Colorado, where I had the privilege of meeting inspiring individuals and forming lifelong connections across the country,” says Klump. “These experiences have deeply motivated me to give back and set an example.”

Hellems is “one of the most significant contributors to the student experience at ��,” notes designer David Keltner of Hacker Architects, which is working with �� to reimagine Hellems for today and tomorrow. “As such, it is not only one of the most commonly held experiences of the university; it also plays a role in creating those critical first impressions of collegiate life for incoming freshmen.”

Hellems also is the heart of the College of Arts and Sciences and home not only of the beloved Mary Rippon Theatre, but the Colorado Shakespeare Festival—a renowned nexus between the university and the community beyond its borders.

Construction on the 95,000-square-foot building is expected to be complete in 2025. The process of re-envisioning Hellems has been guided not only by administrative, faculty and staff input, but by guidance from students. They suggested not only practical improvements to accessibility, study spaces, classrooms and lighting, but creating spaces of gathering and belonging.

Reimagining Hellems has been a process of not only honoring its more than 100-year history and preserving the integrity of the building but also recreating it as a 21st-century space.

The redesign seeks LEED for New Construction Version 4 Gold Certification as well as reduced energy consumption, aligning with campuswide sustainability goals and aligning with college priorities

A reimagined Hellems will create opportunities for students to gather, linger, connect and succeed in their arts and sciences home on campus. It will be a place for everyone—accessible and inviting, a key part of the college experience.

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Supporters revivify not just the building but also what it fosters and represents.

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He will, he will rock you

Anonymous — Thu, 10 Oct 2024 13:11:59 +0000

He will, he will rock you Anonymous (not verified) Thu, 10/10/2024 - 07:11

Rachel Sauer

Pursuing a passion for music, �� economist Murat Iyigun transforms from recognized expert on economics of the family and economic history to regional rock star with a growing musical reputation

In a low-key pub and grill on a quiet street in Littleton, Colorado, it’s about 10 minutes to 8 on a Saturday night, and the renowned economist seems to be in six places at once.

He’s sound checking his guitar and finalizing plans with the light technician and joking with the singers and ticking through the set list with the drummer and donning a dusky green bomber jacket and wraparound shades.

The dance floor in front of the stage is empty for now, but it won’t be for long. At a little after 8, members of the steadily growing audience put down their forks and drinks to welcome—as they’d been invited, as the musicians had been introduced—the Custom Shop Band.

Murat Iyigun is a professor of economics focusing on the economics of the family and economic history.

A kaleidoscope of colored lights flashes from the rafters toward the stage as lead singers Amy Gray, Mckenna Lee and Abbey Kochevar begin an iconic refrain: stomp-stomp-clap, stomp-stomp-clap.

“Buddy you're a boy, make a big noise, playin' in the street, gonna be a big man someday,” Gray sings, achieving the stratospheric, Mercurian growl and grandeur of the original. “You got mud on your face, you big disgrace, kickin' your can all over the place. Singin'…”

The renowned economist leans toward his mic and joins the immortal chorus: “We will, we will rock you.”

It wasn’t so much a threat as a promise. For the next four hours, minus breaks between sets, the band founded by Murat Iyigun, a �� professor of economics and former economist with the Federal Reserve Board in Washington, D.C., would rock everyone there.

And they would rock hard.

‘You should listen to Queen’

The question, then, is how does a scholar and economist widely known for his research on the economics of the family and economic history come to be on a pub-and-grill stage on a Saturday night, slaying licks originally conceived by Brian May?

“Life is funny, isn’t it?” Iyigun admits.

The story starts, as not many rock stories do, in Ankara, Turkey. The son of a Turkish father and a Turkish-American mother, Iyigun grew up during a tumultuous time in Turkey, when older kids might stop him on the street to ask whether he was a leftist or a rightist. Still, he says, he was lucky and maybe even a little sheltered, while some of his older sisters’ friends became victims of the left/right violence.

It was that violence, in fact, that caused his older sister’s university to be shut down for seven months. To continue her chemistry studies, she transferred to The Ohio State University, but not before leaving her LP collection to her younger brother.

“I was about 13, and I was counting the days to when she left in July because I was going to be getting all the LPs,” Iyigun recalls with a laugh. “‘Hotel California’ was huge that summer, and then there was Cat Stevens, ELO. I was totally captivated even though, compared to now, things were so closed for us. Going to the U.S. was like going to Mars. But in terms of music and Western culture, especially among urban secular Turks, we followed everything.

Murat Iyigun was inspired to learn to play the guitar after hearing Queen's album Live Killers. (Photos: The Custom Shop Band)

“Now you can get all the vinyls and they’re easy to come by, but at that time people basically made tapes that everyone shared around. There was all this bootleg stuff that would come from Europe, and someone in Istanbul would press some vinyls, but I was never sure if they had an agreement (with the record labels) or if those were counterfeit.”

At the tender age of 13, Iyigun was more into the mellow side of rock n’ roll. A few years deeper into his teens, however, and he discovered KISS. Visiting family in the United States during the summer of ’78—a time that might be considered the fever-pitch apex of the band’s makeup years—Iyigun acquired all things KISS: T-shirts, posters, tapes, you name it.

It might have been the following summer, he doesn’t remember exactly, that he went camping with friends and met one of the great platonic loves of his teenage years—an older girl who inadvertently changed his life.

“She said, ‘You should listen to Queen, they’re a great band,’” Iyigun recalls. “So, I asked someone to make me a tape of the Live Killers album, and that was it.”

It says something about what happened to him, listening to that album, that he currently has—in a glass case in his Boulder home—a replica of May’s immortal Red Special guitar, signed by May. Iyigun also bought Red Special replicas for both of his daughters.

He heard Live Killers and had to learn to play guitar, is the point. Then he and some of his friends, including an ambassador’s son whose presence allowed them to practice at the Swiss embassy in Ankara, formed a band. Iyigun absolutely loved it, but making it as a rock musician in a Muslim country in the 1980s started to strike him as increasingly impossible.

“I thought, ‘OK, I need to get my act together,’” Iyigun says, so he came to the United States to earn an MBA at Boston University and then a master’s and PhD in economics at Brown University.

His parents had given him a Les Paul guitar when he graduated high school and began studying business administration at Hacettepe University—“in Turkey back then you just didn’t have these instruments, so for my parents I know this was very costly,” he explains—and as a graduate student at Brown he bought an amp and noodled around at home.

The Custom Shop Band includes, left to right, lead guitarist Murat Iyigun; singers Amy Gray, Mckenna Lee and Abbey Kochevar; drummer Kevin Thomas; bassist Elliot Elder; and keyboardist Tone Show. Steve Johnson (not pictured) also is a member of the band. (Photo: The Custom Shop Band)

But then life happened. He was beginning his career, he had a wife and young children, he was working toward tenure, and he just didn’t have time to play, for more than a decade.

Then, about 15 or so years ago, at a time he was hardly ever playing guitar, his daughters and wife gave him the game Guitar Hero for Father’s Day. He played it a bit and realized the game console was an instrument in its own way, so with typical focus “I thought, ‘I need to learn to play it well,’” he says. “It’s nothing like guitar playing, but I thought I could learn to do this, and then I was thinking about how I used to play. And that’s when I brought out my guitar.”

Learning through blues jams

“Once I started to come back to it, I realized some of my fundamentals had gone,” Iyigun says. “So, I started by taking these baby steps. I immediately hooked up with a great music teacher, Jeff Sollohub, a Berklee (College of Music) graduate and super nice guy, and every two weeks I’d work with him on a new song, on composition and things like that.

“Within a year or two, I realized I’m only going to get so good if I don’t actually go out and play. By the time I came back to it, there were so many more resources online, YouTube and things like that, and I still got a lot of joy out of playing at home. But I quickly realized there’s a limit to how much I can improve unless I get out and play. That’s when I discovered blues jams, which are the easiest way to go play live even though blues is super difficult to play well.”

He went to multiple blues jams a month around metro Denver and endured the “painful, painful learning process.” A significant moment of clarity and focus came when he saw the parallels between being onstage playing and lecturing in front of a full classroom or at an economics conference.

“I had a lot of embarrassing days where the ride home would be miserable, and I did that for a couple of years, and I was discovering other jams and just kept playing,” he says. “The limitation of blues jams, though, is you pack all the gear, get in the car, drive 40 minutes, get on the list, then the person running the jam will put these bands together and you play for 20 minutes. So, I drove there an hour, waited an hour, spent this time to play 20 minutes—and 18 minutes of that was painful.

“But after doing that a couple years, this blues band of three guys needed a guitar player, and they’d seen me play, so they said, ‘Do you want to join a band?’ I joined for about a year, and there was this point where I’m like, ‘Yeah, this is what I want.’”

Inside, though, he was still the kid obsessed with KISS and Queen who knew all the guitar greats, not just the blues ones. He was treasurer for Mile High Blues Society, but he wanted to play rock.

Joining the band

The Custom Shop Band—the name is a reference to the custom guitars Iyigun plays—came together in a way that could be interpreted as either patchwork or destiny: friends of friends, acquaintances who know a guy, calls and emails that began with, “Hey, are you interested in being in a band?”

Elliot Elder, the Custom Shop Band bass player and a 2022 �� graduate in jazz bass performance, was recommended by a mutual friend. Amy Gray, the original in what is now a trio of lead singers, was recommended to Iyigun by another mutual friend:

“I was singing with another band and had recently left them when I got a message from Murat,” Gray says. “He saw me in a video from that band, and he said they were looking for someone to do backups and fill in when their lead at the time was not available.

“So, I looked them up, I went to a show to see what they sounded like and saw that they played some fun songs, that they as instrumentalists all sounded good, so I thought, ‘Why not, let’s give it a chance, they all seem very nice’ and I jumped in and went with it.”

Murat Iyigun joins in on harmony during the Custom Shop Band's set list of "hits, with a twist."

Gray recruited Kochevar, whom she knew from performing with her in theater, and Lee, who had recently moved to Colorado from California and whom she knew through mutual friends. And that’s how the Custom Shop Band has worked: Iyigun founded it and continues to act as band leader and manager, but in every other way it’s a democracy.

“Murat is an awesome band leader,” Elder says. “One of the reasons why a lot of bands don’t get past a certain point, in my opinion, is the band leader doesn’t have the flexibility and communication skills to manage situations where lineups change, things change on short notice, people have different ideas about how a song should be played. Murat’s emailing venues, scheduling gigs, managing lineups and all the while teaching at CU. He puts a lot of work into it. You meet a lot of people in the music scene who don’t communicate, who don’t get details to people on time, but Murat is definitely an exception.”

The band, which also includes Kevin Thomas on drums and either Tone Show or Steve Johnson on guitar and keyboards, practices in-person when adding a new song to the set list or a new musician, but otherwise its members practice at home with versions of the songs that Iyigun sends to everyone. In keeping with the band’s democratic ethos, every member brings song suggestions to the table.

At any given show, the Custom Shop Band may open with Queen’s “We Will Rock You,” and soon thereafter play “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus and “It’s Raining Men” by The Weather Girls, which might be followed by a mashup of Foreigner’s “Jukebox Hero” and Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love.”

On a Saturday night in September, at a pub and grill on a quiet street in Littleton, “So What” by P!nk gets booties to the dance floor in a joyful melee. A dude to the left is lost in his own world of intricate air guitar and a lady on the right has divested herself of shoes. A little later, as the band plays Cheap Trick’s “I Want You to Want Me,” the air guitarist to the left reaches a fever pitch as the band’s lead guitarist, who also happens to be a renowned economist, absolutely wails on the solo.

And transitioning smoothly into Sweet’s “Ballroom Blitz,” the dancefloor still throbbing, the economist is grinning wide.

He will rock you.

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Pursuing a passion for music, �� economist Murat Iyigun transforms from recognized expert on economics of the family and economic history to regional rock star with a growing musical reputation.

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Why did a frozen Earth coincide with an evolutionary spurt?

Anonymous — Thu, 08 Aug 2024 17:39:03 +0000

Why did a frozen Earth coincide with an evolutionary spurt? Anonymous (not verified) Thu, 08/08/2024 - 11:39

Clint Talbott

�� geologists Lizzy Trower and Carl Simpson win $1 million in support from W.M. Keck Foundation to try to solve an evolutionary puzzle and to extend Earth’s temperature record by 2 billion years

What happened during the “Snowball Earth” period is perplexing: Just as the planet endured about 100 million years of deep freeze, with a thick layer of ice covering most of Earth and with low levels of atmospheric oxygen, forms of multicellular life emerged.

Lizzy Trower (top) and Carl Simpson. Trower image courtesy of Lizzy Trower; Simpson photo by CU photographer Glenn Asakawa. At the top of the page: A screen capture from a video of algae clumping together in Simpson's lab. Video by Andrea Halling.

Why? The prevailing scientific view is that such frigid temperatures would slow rather than speed evolution. But fossil records from 720 to 635 million years ago show an evolutionary spurt preceding the development of animals. Two �� scientists aim to help solve this puzzle.

If they succeed, they would not only help unravel an evolutionary mystery, but also extend the temperature record of Earth by 2 billion years.

Carl Simpson, a macroevolutionary paleobiologist at ��, has found evidence that cold seawater could have jump-started—rather than suppressed—evolution from single-celled to multicellular life forms. But to demonstrate that very cold temperatures could have sped up evolution, he needs an accurate temperature record from that period.

Temperature records using existing methods are accurate only to 500 million years ago. That could change, though: Lizzy Trower, a chemical sedimentologist, has developed a novel method of measuring global temperature from 500 million to 2.5 billion years ago.

Together, Trower and Simpson hope to test Simpson’s hypothesis against temperature records from Trower’s novel tool, and they recently won a $1 million grant from the W.M. Keck Foundation to do so.

Both the fossil record and calculations based on a “DNA clock”—which calculates the age of current organisms based on the rate of mutations over eons—indicate that multicellular organisms emerged during Snowball Earth.

Simpson, who is an assistant professor of geological sciences and curator of invertebrate paleontology at the CU Museum of Natural History, has spent a lot of time since coming to �� trying to understand the connection between extreme, prolonged cold and evolution. He describes a breakthrough stemming from a “knuckleheaded” approach: “trying to imagine what the unicellular ancestor of an animal would have been experiencing” during Snowball Earth.

During this “cold, salty and dark” period, there would have been up to a kilometer of ice at the Equator, and liquid water below the ice would have been very cold, about -5 degrees C (about 23 degrees F).

“One thing that you learn about small organisms from a physics point of view is that they don't experience the world the same way that we do, as larger-bodied organisms,” Simpson said. Unicellular organisms are affected by the viscosity, or thickness, of sea water.

The increase in viscosity—which increases as water temperature falls—could yield an evolutionary advantage to those single-celled organisms that clumped together, using their combined propulsion efforts to their mutual advantage. In his laboratory, Simpson and colleagues have found that a type of green algae responds as he hypothesized it would.

Video of algae clumping together in Simpson's lab. (Credit: Andrea Halling)

“And basically, that would trigger the origin of animals, potentially,” he said.

How cold was it?

However, there is uncertainty about how cold it was and how much that cold varied during Snowball Earth. Current methods suggest that the average global temperature in this period was about 20 degrees C, or 68 degrees F, levels that wouldn’t turn the planet into a snowball. That’s where Trower comes in.

Trower, an associate professor of geological sciences, studies grains of sand made from calcium carbonate and called ooids. These sand grains can gather material and get larger as they roll around, “as opposed to any other type of sand grain, which generally just gets smaller the more it’s transported around,” she said.

Trower’s idea was to explore whether the size of ooids could reveal things about the environments in which they formed. Ooids are affected by two kinds of processes: physical and chemical.

Physically, the sand grains are abraded as they roll around and collide with other grains. These abrasions and collisions make the grains shrink.

Chemically, the sand grains can grow with the precipitation of new minerals. Originally, Trower framed these reactions as reflecting the seawater in which they’re forming. “So, for example, if it's more super-saturated with respect to these calcium carbonate minerals, then the rate of mineral precipitation is faster, and that might explain why you would get ooids that are larger.”

But her calculations based on water viscosity didn’t suggest that ooids would grow as large as they did during Snowball Earth. Giant ooids from this period have been found in some places worldwide. Trower is focusing on a form of calcium carbonate called ikaite, which forms only in very cold conditions and which was discovered in a Norwegian fjord.

The ooids built on these rare, cold-loving carbonate minerals can grow comparatively large, greater than 2 millimeters in diameter. Trower notes that ooids of this size and composition form only in certain temperatures; thus, the diameter of these ooids could be a proxy measurement of Earth’s temperature for the last 2.5 billion years.

Answering a big question

With funding from the W.M. Keck Foundation, Trower, Simpson and colleagues will collect giant ooid samples from around the world, measure them and analyze the samples to determine the nature of minerals they were originally composed of.

Watch Lizzy Trower's talk, “Science Perseverance: What I Learned about Being a Scientist from a Grain of Sand,” in which she tells the story of her love for ooids, her journey from curious student to accomplished researcher, and the unexpected lessons learned along the way.

“That, in turn, can tell us something about the chemistry and water temperature in which they formed,” Trower said, noting that those results would be compared against the physical record.

The goal is to answer a big question: “Does the fossil record agree with the predictions we would make based on this theory from this new record of temperature?”

Undertaking such potentially ground-breaking research is both nerve-wracking and also quite exciting, Simpson and Trower said.

Anne Sheehan, professor and chair of the Department of Geological Sciences, praised the scientists: “The project benefits not only from the talent and creativity of Trower and Simpson but also from their willingness to step outside of their disciplines and take risks. This work exemplifies how cross-disciplinary collaboration can push the boundaries of Earth science and drive groundbreaking discoveries.”

Nancy J. Stevens, professor and research institute director of the CU Natural History Museum, observed: “The origin of complex multicellular life is an exciting puzzle to solve, and it would be remiss not to point out how Trower and Simpson have selected a topic and approach that mirror the contemporary research landscape. Organisms able to join forces to unlock new solutions can navigate challenging environments, and ultimately evolve and thrive.”

Trower and Simpson’s work also has potential implications for the human quest to find life elsewhere in the universe, Trower said. If extremely harsh and cold environments can spur evolutionary change, “then that is a really different type of thing to look for in exoplanets (potentially life-sustaining planets in other solar systems), or think about when and where (life) would exist.”

Based in Los Angeles, the W. M. Keck Foundation was established in 1954 by the late W. M. Keck, founder of the Superior Oil Co. The Foundation’s grant making is focused primarily on pioneering efforts in the areas of medical research, science and engineering and undergraduate education. The Foundation also maintains a Southern California Grant Program that provides support for the Los Angeles community, with a special emphasis on children and youth. For more information, please visit www.wmkeck.org.

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