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Brynne Boehlecke

By Halle Sheppard, CLA Student Writer - December 1, 2025

Brynne Boehlecke, ‘25, has always been a poet and a writer at heart, but during her time at Oregon State, her poetry was such a stand out that it ended up winning her the Provost’s Literary Prize, one of the most prestigious creative writing awards across the entire university. Her journey to OSU though, was a bit less straightforward than her love of writing.

Boehlecke originally took a tour of OSU when she was 15 with her brother. “My brother immediately fell in love with it, he's a rower and nuclear engineer major which made OSU a perfect fit for him.”

She, on the other hand, was a bit more unsure and was still exploring a few other options, but was soon convinced due to the proximity to her family and love for Oregon. Boehlecke, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, soon found another convincing reason to stay.

“I knew OSU had a really good creative writing program, but then OSU announced that any student who is a member of federally recognized tribes would get in-state tuition,” and she took it as a sign. “I had a great experience and have never regretted it, and would probably have chosen OSU anyways because it had everything I was looking for.”

While she always knew that she wanted to pursue writing as a career she enrolled in the School of Writing, Literature, and Film to achieve those goals. She was already a step ahead too, as she arrived at OSU with sophomore status, given the amount of advanced courses she took in high school back in Las Vegas. Boehlecke still wanted the traditional four-year college experience though, and decided to add on minors to further fill up her schedule and credentials.

Boehlecke tried out several different options, but none of them felt quite right. “It wasn’t until I took Native American Literature [ENG 360] that I thought it was really cool and I could see myself doing this.”

Boehlecke loved the minor, saying, “it was great for me, I loved every single class that I took in that minor, and it really helped my writing.”

One minor still wasn’t enough to fill her four years though, and she soon looked at other options to add on. Since her brother also needed language credits, they decided to take German together.

While the minors were fun for her, Boehlecke retained a deep focus on writing and a lifelong love for the craft,“I’ve always been a writer, it's the way my brain feels comfortable expressing itself, through poetry and fiction.”

A love of writing also ran in her family, with members who were children’s poets, as well as librarians, which exposed her to the literary arts from a young age.

“Having grown up around someone who was so deep in their love for libraries, it was hard not to follow in their same path.” She passionately defends libraries in the growing modern age, explaining that “there’s nothing more punk than a public library” in its vital role of providing resources and services.

“There will never ever be a time in humanity when information is not needed, and libraries aren’t an instrumental part of society” she explained, as she hopes to perhaps follow her grandmother’s path someday.

While she loves libraries, it is the stories they hold that fascinate her too. Throughout her time at OSU she continued to weave stories herself, including her Provost’s Literary Prize-winning poem: Spider Web. While she wanted to write about the concept for a long time, it was not the one she expected to win out of her submissions, even completing the poem “the day before I turned it in.”

Her poem was inspired by the concept of an “earth diver,” a figure in many Indigenous mythologies that dove to the bottom of the ocean and retrieved the land, bringing it to the surface to create the world for the rest of Earth’s creatures. Sometimes, the creature drowns and other times it survives, but their role is crucial in creating land.

“I had been trying to connect that concept of an earth diver to my relationship with Cherokee as a language,” she explains. “One day when I die there will be all of my ancestors who speak this language that I don’t speak, and I won’t know how to communicate with them and thank them for the life I have.”

She had struggled to connect the two concepts for a long time, but finally succeeded through the lens of the Cherokee story of the water spider (who was not technically an earth diver, but brought fire and life in a similar manner), as a demonstration of her struggle to connect with her past.

Her role in the School of Writing, Literature, and Film’s creative writing program extended beyond her poetry submissions though, as she also served as editor-in-chief for PRISM, the university’s premier art and literary journal.

Boehlecke started as a volunteer her first year, but soon became very involved due to her enjoyment of the time she spent there. “PRISM really was the highlight of my college experience, and I’m so glad that I found it when I did.”

She expressed how the College of Liberal Arts set her up for success in her future career, not only through her award and experience, but also through the opportunities the college provided.

“I have a lot of aspirations,” Boehlecke explained, “ the main thing OSU and the college really helped me with that I didn’t anticipate was showing me that there’s way more out there for creative majors than I realized.”

Both PRISM, her major, and two minors exposed her to avenues in publishing, libraries, academia, and teaching that she could see herself pursuing in the near future.

She has always wanted to be a writer though, and hopes to one day be a children’s and middle grade writer. “I was the kid who got made fun of for eating lunch in the school library, and I can’t wait until there’s a day where people are jealous of those kids that get to eat lunch in the library.”

She hopes to write stories that will bring hope and connection, and create work that inspires, like how fantasy serves as a mirror to reality and even depressing poetry is uplifting in its showing that the reader isn’t alone.

Her passion continues to drive her, and Boehlecke is ready to continue to leave her mark on the literary world, and make a brighter future.

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Alejandra Hilbert

By Selene Lawrence, CLA Student Writer - November 21, 2025

As a researcher, tech enthusiast, and up-and-coming scholar of engineering psychology, Alejandra Hilbert is an unstoppable force. From the dawning completion of her master’s degree to the impressive variety of research projects she’s assisted in during her first year at Oregon State, Hilbert has worked hard to forge her own path to accomplish her ambitions. Beneath the passion for her field and the endless ripples of potential research ideas, she possesses the discipline and proficiency of a seasoned psychologist, something that will only uplift her as she continues her progress in her doctoral program. With four years to go until completing her Ph.D., it is clear that Hilbert will undoubtedly prove herself a scientist to keep an eye on.  

Hilbert, a second-generation immigrant and a first-generation student, grew up in Sacramento, California. Like many, she was introduced to psychology through the enduring crime thrillers on network television. “I was obsessed with Law & Order,” she recalled. “There’s a character in the show who's a psychologist, and the way that he approached criminality and people who were incarcerated stood out to me. I knew it wasn't accurate, but from watching that show, I knew from a really young age that I wanted to be a psychologist.” Hilbert was the first in her family to go to college, starting off at Sacramento’s American River College before transferring to the University of California, Berkeley, where she graduated with degrees in legal studies and psychology.

While her initial focus was legal and forensic psychology, Hilbert decided that it wasn’t the right fit. “It was really amazing work, especially being able to do research that directly impacted policy and legislature, but it was also draining,” she explained. “I learned very quickly that I wasn’t built for that life.” After graduating, Hilbert was hired as a lab manager and research assistant at UC Berkeley’s Risk-Resilience Lab, where she worked for three years and is still affiliated with today. She didn’t know it at the time, but that role would ultimately inspire her to explore her current field. A study designing a video game to strategically reduce aggression in young boys placed Hilbert on an interdisciplinary team of psychologists and criminologists, as well as game developers, designers, and producers. “Seeing how these elements of different fields all came together was really magical for me,” she said. “Until I worked on that project, I never thought to combine my love of psychology and my love of technology as a research discipline. Engineering psychology felt like a melding of all the different things I’m passionate about.” 

Once Hilbert began to explore her interest in human-computer interaction, everything fell into place. She became immersed in engineering psychology and applied experimental research. Hilbert began to look into Ph.D. programs before deciding on just a few to apply to. “I'm a firm believer that if you're going to do something, you should do it right,” she said, “I only wanted to go to schools that I felt really compelled to attend. OSU had the perfect mix.” On her first visit to OSU, Hilbert knew that it was the school for her. “I felt like my presence was valued, that the faculty cared about who I was, and were excited that I wanted to come here,” she said, “it's been such an encouraging environment.”

Hilbert is currently in the process of completing her master’s thesis, a study evaluating how using  ChatGPT affects authentic written expression. In spoken or written interaction, people naturally tend to echo the language of their conversation partner. Hilbert’s research will evaluate the same phenomenon in human-AI interactions. “I’m studying how much we’re adopting ChatGPT's language and how it might change the language we use over time,” she said. “Artificial intelligence is embedded into the fabric of our lives. I'm really interested in how it's impacting our natural language production.”  

With hundreds of millions of weekly users, ChatGPT is one of the most popular and well-known generative AI tools. However, as ChatGPT use becomes more widespread, concerns about its impact—and that of other large language models (LLMs)—continue to grow. In the past year, more and more people have spoken out about environmental concerns around the data centers that power generative AI and the ethical issues (including privacy, copyright, misinformation, and bias) around collecting the data to train LLMs. Some, like Hilbert, are concerned with the larger cognitive impacts of using generative AI tools. “I see it as a tool that brings opportunity, but should be approached with skepticism,” she said. “Generative AI is now a frequent conversational partner, its rise brings questions about eroding linguistic diversity and the potential to dull our individual writing skills. The language of the tool may become the language of the user.”

Hilbert may be studying the potential drawbacks of regular ChatGPT use, but she isn’t afraid to interact with it. As an avid technologist, Hilbert has found that the tool assists her with her work in social media and science communications. “I think that the best research comes from personal problems,” she said. “I use ChatGPT almost daily, oftentimes to help me generate images, polish my writing, or make content fit within social media parameters. It became clear to me that I was being fed the same sentence structure every day. Eventually, I felt like I was mimicking it; I was just reading so many outputs that it became difficult not to mirror what I had been reading all that time.” The experience not only inspired her master’s thesis but also prompted Hilbert to reevaluate her interactions with AI. “It's made me a more aware user. I'm using it in a different way,” she explained, “I'm being more intentional about what I'm asking the machine to do for me.”

The completion of her master’s degree is on the horizon, and Hilbert’s ambition shows no sign of waning. She has many ideas for future research projects around AI use, as existing studies have yet to catch up with contemporary AI trends. “There is AI research, but much of it predates the boom. Given how much shifted in the past year, it’s important to revisit those questions as earlier research is context-bound and often dated,” Hilbert explained. “Since public biases toward AI have evolved, pre-boom study samples may no longer reflect today’s users, which means the results may differ.” She added, “I'd like to research racial differences and technology use. One of my best friends has never used AI and refuses to ever use it. We’re both Black women, but we have very different perspectives on technology. She feels like she has to work twice as hard and doesn't want to give anybody a reason to think she's taking shortcuts. Like my friend, I feel the pressure to prove my worth as a Black woman. I love technology, and I use AI to amplify my effort. I'm really curious about perspectives amongst Black Americans on the use of AI.” 

Hilbert has high hopes for AI in psychology and beyond. In her research, it’s safe to say that she won’t just be watching and waiting; she’ll be working toward solutions. “I really hope to see AI that is less dependent on physical resources. I’d like to see efforts toward building a system that’s less environmentally taxing,” she said. “AI has done some amazing things with human supervision, whether it be helping to map genomes that we have not been able to otherwise, or finding ways to preserve languages that have been lost. We have this beautiful tool that has very quickly had some amazing applications; I hope we can find ways to create synergy between machines and humans as opposed to finding ways to replace humans with machines.” 

Apart from her thesis, Hilbert is involved with several other research projects at Oregon State University. In the Applied Cognitive Theory, Usability & Learning (ACTUAL) Lab led by her advisor, Dr. Christopher Sanchez, she works on designing and administering studies and training undergraduate students. “Dr. Sanchez is a jack-of-all-trades,” she said. “It’s been a privilege to work so closely with him. He’s spent hours helping me turn my big ideas into studies grounded in theory and good science. I am very grateful for his mentorship.” Hilbert’s interdisciplinary specialty also lends to her extensive collaboration with the College of Engineering. She recently assisted with an experiment led by Dr. Naomi Fitter, which aims to increase engineering identity in children through a workshop of educational activities, and one led by Dr. Julie Adams in collaboration with NASA and the Federal Aviation Administration. The experiment studied the physiological and cognitive factors that influence pilots’ ability to operate multiple drones simultaneously. 

Another one of Hilbert’s projects, a study in immersive technologies, is similar to the experiment that led her to fall in love with engineering psychology. The study utilizes virtual reality and other technologies in evaluating how changes to our environment using modern technology can increase attentional resources when working on a computer. “I’m focused on evaluating and building technology that helps people learn, perform, and flourish.,” Hilbert said. “Research is all about storytelling: picking a story, getting to learn more about it, and portraying the story accurately. The story I love to tell is about how technology can help humans.”

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Ximena Andrade

By Taylor Pedersen, CLA Student Writer - December 10, 2025

When Ximena Andrade first stepped into the fast-paced world of public relations in Lima, Peru, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting herself into. “Honestly, I didn’t even know what PR was,” she said with a laugh. “But I think it was perfect for me. As a social scientist, I’ve always been drawn to understanding people and communication, and PR found me.”

Today, Andrade is a master’s student in the College of Liberal Arts’ School of Communication, researching how artificial intelligence is reshaping crisis communication and how audiences perceive its use. But before academia, she was already a seasoned professional working full-time at one of the world’s leading communications and corporate-affairs consulting firms, managing communications for clients in technology, fintech, energy, telecommunications, and hydrocarbons. 

Her path into PR, she admitted, wasn’t initially part of the plan. With a degree in political science from Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Andrade envisioned a career in public policy, but after having a positive experience interviewing with the public relations team at a top consulting firm, she switched directions. “Life takes us places we don’t expect,” Andrade said. 

What drew her in was the complexity of the work; the need to think strategically, quickly, and empathetically. “Communication isn’t just about messaging anymore,” she said. “It’s deeply connected to politics, economics, and society. I realized PR allowed me to engage with all of that.”

Transitioning from full-time professional work in Peru to graduate school life in Oregon was, as Andrade described it, “a lesson in humility.”

“When you’ve been in a field for a while, it’s easy to feel like you already know everything. But communication is one of those areas where you have to stay open. If you don’t adapt, you become outdated very quickly.”

That openness, what she calls an “adaptability mindset,” has become a defining part of her academic and professional identity. At OSU, Andrade has found space to blend her practical expertise with new tools, examining how the rise of AI is altering not just the practice of communication, but people’s trust in it.

Her research zeroes in on crisis communication: how organizations respond during a crisis and the growing role of artificial intelligence in that process.

“In crises, communication is everything,” Andrade explained. “But when AI starts being used, people’s perceptions change.”

Her early findings suggest that while AI tools can streamline crisis responses, they also introduce new ethical challenges. “One of the main insights we’ve seen is that when people realize AI was used in a crisis message, their trust levels can shift immediately,” she said.

Andrade believes the key challenge for future communicators will be to balance technological precision with emotional intelligence and to ensure that speed and data don’t replace empathy.

Andrade’s global outlook has shaped much of her approach. Born and raised in Peru, she developed a passion for international perspectives early on. “When I was twelve, I traveled to Brazil, and throughout high school, I participated in many student exchange programs through global opportunities,” she recalled. “That really opened my eyes. I realized how much we can learn from stepping outside our own contexts.”

That curiosity eventually led her abroad to Oregon State. “When I first connected with OSU’s School of Communication, there was an instant sense of chemistry,” she said. “It felt like a place where I could bring my professional experience and still keep learning.”

As AI continues to transform the world, Andrade is thinking about what the next generation of professionals will need most.

“Adaptability, for sure,” she said without hesitation. “But also ethics, creativity, and humanity. The technology will keep evolving, so it’s our responsibility to evolve with it responsibly.”

When she finishes her degree, Andrade hopes to bridge her research and professional work, helping organizations navigate communication with transparency and care in an increasingly digital world.

“Communication is changing faster than ever,” she said. “But at its core, it’s still about connection; between people, between cultures, and between ideas.”

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Phoebe Ison

By Taylor Pedersen, CLA Student Writer - November 18, 2025

When Phoebe Ison talks about her art, she often circles back to light. The way it filters through moss in a North Carolina forest, glints off the Jersey Shore, or bends and fractures through the panes of her stained-glass work. Light, for Ison, is a metaphor for the way creativity passes through her life, refracted across mediums and places.

Now an incoming senior in the School of Communication’s digital communication arts program, Ison is stepping into her biggest role yet: station manager for KBVR-TV, where she has plans to expand the student-run station’s programming and deepen its creative reach. It’s a natural continuation of the path she’s carved at OSU, from producing The Lyrical Lounge, a poetry and performance program, to exploring the intersection of technology and artistry through film, set design, and media production.

But Ison’s journey here has been anything but linear.

Born in Pennsylvania, the second of seven children, she spent her early years bouncing between states—New Jersey, North Carolina, and Utah—absorbing the quirks of regional culture. In New Jersey, she recalls the bluntness of bagel shop banter; in North Carolina, the deep forests where she foraged mushrooms and studied rock quarries. “Those early experiences really gave me variety,” she said. “All the different colors, textures, and attitudes feed into my creative work.”

By 18, Ison had already graduated from high school early and set off on her own. She spent six months working as a cook at the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry’s Hancock Field Station in Eastern Oregon, a remote desert land dotted with refurbished cabins from the Rajneeshpuram religious community that lived there in the 1980s. She rose before dawn, managed budgets and menus, and cooked for dozens, then spent afternoons hiking through canyons and collecting deer bones. The experience, she said, gave her independence. “It was a project that cleared my mind and helped me understand who I was.”

When she arrived in Corvallis, she was undecided on a major, torn between science and art. Forestry and natural resources fascinated her, but left her discouraged. “I was leaning towards graphic and product design, but I kept thinking: do I want my creativity to be drained for corporations, or can I find another way to apply it?” she said. That “other way” came when she wandered into an Orange Media Network open house and found herself inside the KBVR-TV studio.

At first, she sat quietly, watching critiques of color palettes and lighting choices. Soon she was volunteering on shoots, learning technical roles, and discovering the fast-paced collaboration of television. “There’s such a steep learning curve, but it was exhilarating,” she said. “TV production stimulates my brain in so many different ways. I don’t get bored.”

Outside the studio, Ison has another passion: stained glass. Under the name The Underground Cathedral, she has been creating glass art since high school. For her, it’s not only craft but history. “Even though I’m not religious, stained glass has this power. It’s turned people toward spirituality for centuries,” she said. She finds inspiration in aerial views of farmland, mossy lakes, and the shifting colors of nature. “It’s the same mental process as film,” she explained. “Working with light, color, and texture to create something that moves people.”

Looking beyond graduation, Ison envisions herself working with creative teams in film or theater, somewhere between set design, cinematography, and production. She hopes to contribute to projects that feel both meaningful and innovative. “I love the intersection of art and technology that TV and film offer,” she said. “My goal is to make work that captures emotion, history, and humanity and to help shape an industry that desperately needs change-makers.”

For now, she has one more year at OSU, where she’ll guide KBVR-TV through its next season. Like her glasswork, her vision is about bending light into something memorable. “It’s all about capturing the most human product we can,” she said. “Something symbolic, something that matters.”

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Tresa Handforth

By Ellie Webb-Bowen, CLA Student Writer - November 19, 2025

Originally from Hermiston, Oregon, Tresa Handforth often felt like she was limited to how she was able to express herself in rural Eastern Oregon. She discovered writing as an outlet early on in elementary school and became an avid reader of novels and fantasy/sci-fi throughout her teenage years.

“I didn't always feel like I could dress the way I wanted to or express how I felt in the classroom,” said Handforth. 

She had her eyes set on leaving her small hometown to pursue higher education, initially wanting to attend the University of Oregon in hopes of starting on the path of becoming a lawyer. After touring OSU, Handforth fell in love with the campus, which “felt like home after just a few steps”. Handforth even applied for early admission, getting in with many of her friends from Hermiston.

Initially a business major, Handforth soon became less interested in business and more interested in pursuing her creative aspiration in writing. An impactful instructor of Composition (WR 121) was what finally pushed her to officially switch majors. 

“Unfortunately, I don't remember the instructor’s name, but she was a graduate student in the School of Writing, Literature, and Film at the time who was teaching Writing 121. There was something about how she taught writing and reading her feedback that inspired me to change my major to writing. I’ll never forget that class.” 

At the end of the year, the student instructor told Handforth that her writing inspired some of their own, even writing a quote from one of Handforth’s stories on a stick note and stuck to her desk.

As a creative writing student, Handforth’s focus is on short stories and poetry, with two of her favorite professors being John Larison and Jennifer Richter. Lessons from Larison’s fiction writing courses, including Classical Mythology (ENG 215), and Richter’s poetry series, have stayed with Handforth and continue to impact her work.

In addition to writing on the side, Handforth has been highly involved in Chi Theta Phi, a design and creative-focused academic sorority on campus. During freshman year, Handforth went with a friend to a recruitment event to learn more and now, four years later, she’s president of the sorority.

In her role, Handforth leads meetings with her executive team and works closely with representatives of the Collective Greek Council and the Center for Fraternity & Sorority Life, as well as helping plan recruitment and sisterhood events. 

“It’s a lot of dividing and conquering, you know, trying to make sure everyone else is doing what they're supposed to, but also doing my own tasks that I'm in charge of,” Handforth explained. 

Handforth said anyone can join the sorority, whether you’re majoring in something creative or design-related, like graphic design, or creative writing, or just have an interest in creative arts.  

“Chi Theta Phi is the perfect chapter to explore your own creativity,” continued Handforth. “You get to work with and learn from your creative peers. It’s a small group with a lot of passion.” 

After graduating next spring, Handforth’s goal is becoming a screenplay writer or entering the publishing field. During the school year, she plans to continue working on her short stories and poetry; her eyes are set on moving to a bigger city to accomplish her dreams.

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Evan Mount

By Taylor Pedersen, CLA Student Writer - November 7, 2025

When Evan Mount arrived at Oregon State University, he imagined a future filled with greenhouses and microscopes. A passionate gardener raised in Seattle, he chose OSU for its prestigious botany program after a short stint studying chemistry at UC San Diego. Music, though ever-present in his life, was still just a side project or an outlet, not a career.

Now, as an incoming fifth-year in the music technology and production program at the School of Visual, Performing, and Design Arts, Mount has traded soil samples for soundboards. He’s a violinist in the OSU Symphony, a DJ at KBVR-FM, a former Reser Creative Scholar, and a current PRAx student advisory council member, as well as a tutor at the Writing Center. For him, music is no longer a hobby in the margins but the center of his academic and creative life.

“I think I realized it when I stopped going to science advisors altogether,” Mount said with a laugh. “I was only meeting with Kristen Rorrer, the music advisor, every quarter. At some point it clicked: not only do I love the music, I love the people in the department. I wanted to be around them more. That was when I knew.”

Mount’s musical story began at age five, when his mom gave him a choice: sports or an instrument. He chose the violin, and though his early practice sessions were reluctant, middle school changed everything.

“My middle school orchestra teacher was incredible,” he recalled. “She got us playing in the community, going to conferences, and connecting with the local scene. That’s when I thought: ‘I want to do this for me, not just because I have to.’”

By high school, he was well known in Seattle’s classical and chamber music circles, performing in school and city orchestras and building a reputation. Still, when it came time to choose a major, presumed practicality won out. “I didn’t think music could lead to a stable career,” he said. “There was pressure to pick something STEM, and I was good at chemistry. But I eventually realized that being in a lab wasn’t the life I wanted.”

Though he pivoted away from science, Mount sees echoes of his chemistry and botany background in his music work. “It’s funny, waves show up in both fields,” he said. “In chemistry, you learn about molecular vibrations, and in music technology, you’re learning how sound waves move in a studio. Resonance, acoustics… There are surprising overlaps.”

Gardening, too, remains an influence. His family’s massive flower garden back in Seattle still shapes his creative process. “It reminds me to step back and not get too analytical,” he said. “Sometimes I’ll get stuck overthinking chords or production choices. But if I go outside, put my hands in the dirt, it resets me. It’s grounding, literally and figuratively.”

At OSU, Mount thrives on bridging worlds. He performs classical violin in the symphony, mixes pop and electronic tracks on his KBVR radio show, and even merged the two when he performed computer-based DJ music with the OSU Symphony last year.

“It’s fun finding threads between genres,” he said. “The same chords that show up in a symphony piece might also be in a Top 40 hit. Putting them side by side is really satisfying.” That sense of connection extends beyond the music itself. Living with fellow artists from the School of Visual, Performing, and Design Arts, Mount describes feeling “comfortable” in a way he never did in STEM fields. “These are people who care about art, music, and writing. They’re not just classmates, they’re collaborators and friends.”

Outside of music, Mount tutors at the Writing Center and helped to organize the Peer Educator Conference for fall 2025. He sees these roles as extensions of his artistry. “It’s about collaboration,” he said. “Music can be really individual, but tutoring and leading a conference remind me how to work with a team, set goals, and adapt when things don’t go as planned. Those skills carry over into the studio, too.”

Looking ahead to his final year, Mount is eager to dive deeper into music production, especially pop. “I’ve mostly focused on performance and simpler production so far,” he said. “Now I want to explore the more complex side of it, making tracks with friends and experimenting with new sounds.”

Technology is another point of excitement. Recently, one of his instructors demonstrated an eight-channel audio setup—music composed for a circle of speakers surrounding the listener. “It blew my mind,” Mount said. “The idea that sound could move all around you, even in a 32- or 64-channel space, feels like the future. I want to be part of that.”

For Mount, the journey from botany to music hasn’t been about abandoning one passion for another but about finding where different parts of his life intersect. Whether it’s the science of waves, the patience of gardening, or the collaboration of teaching, he sees his past as feeding into his present.

“I’ve gone all in on music, and I like what’s happening,” he said. “But I also know I can spread out, try new things, and make connections. That’s what excites me: the possibility that music can hold all of it.”

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Holly Zell

By Taylor Pedersen, CLA Student Writer - November 13, 2025

By the time Holly Zell reached her fifth year as a Ph.D. student in psychology at the School of Psychological Science, she had already lived what many of her peers in academia might only study. For years, she sat across from clients in community clinics, navigating crisis after crisis, watching burnout loom over her colleagues and herself. Before that, she carried the personal weight of losing her father to suicide at age 16, a loss that left questions she would spend years confronting, first as a counselor, now as a researcher.

“I used to say it didn’t influence me at all,” Zell said about her father’s death. “But of course it did. It gave me a comfort level with the topic of suicide that not everyone has. I don’t feel like I’m trying to investigate how my dad died; that’s not something I’ll ever fully understand. But it did spark an existential curiosity about why people make that choice, and that curiosity has never left me.”

Born in Ontario, Canada, Zell began her undergraduate studies at Carleton University in Ottawa, where she majored in business. But by the end of her first semester, she felt out of place. Microeconomics and calculus didn’t resonate, but psychology did. “Intro Psych was the only class I liked,” she said. “I remember my mom once joking that marketing was about selling people things they don’t need, and I thought: ‘is that really what I want to do?’”

She switched majors, drawn in part by her own lived experience after her father’s death. “Psychology gave me a language for questions I’d already been asking,” Zell said.

When her family later moved to Colorado, Zell followed and enrolled in a master's program in clinical mental health counseling at University of Northern Colorado. There, she earned her counseling degree and began work in community mental health.

Zell and her husband eventually relocated to Oregon, where she worked at the Yamhill County community mental health center. She also served on the center’s suicide intervention team. The work was vital, but it was exhausting.

“Caseloads were high, the pay didn’t reflect the workload, and so much of what clients brought into therapy was tied to systemic inequalities we couldn’t fix,” she recalled. “What they really needed was stable housing, food security, and transportation. Therapy can help people cope, but it can’t erase massive income inequality.”

The onset of the COVID-19 pandemic only magnified the strain. Overnight, her practice shifted entirely to telehealth, something she had been trained to avoid. “We were told, ‘don’t do telehealth if you can help it,’ and suddenly it was the only option,” she said. “What I learned is that it isn’t inherently worse. For rural clients, it can actually be a lifeline.”

Still, the constant pressure left her burned out. “I realized I do my best therapy work when I’m not doing therapy full-time,” Zell said. “I couldn’t sustain it forever.”

Burnout gave Zell the space to consider a different path, one she had once thought closed to her. Years earlier, she applied to clinical psychology Ph.D. programs and was rejected across the board. “It devastated me,” she said. “I thought it meant I wasn’t good enough. I had to work through a lot of what I was holding that to mean about myself.”

This time, she applied to just one program: Oregon State’s psychology Ph.D. “It was a long shot. I told myself, ‘I probably won’t get in, but maybe this will give me something to hold onto while I figure out what’s next.’” To her surprise, she was accepted.

Now a member of Dr. David Kerr’s lab, Zell is focused on suicide prevention in young adults, with her dissertation examining suicide risk among transgender young people and the protective role of support systems such as family, peers, and schools.

The topic is both professional and personal. As a queer, nonbinary researcher and counselor, Zell has worked closely with LGBTQ+ clients throughout her career. “In community health, younger queer and trans clients were often placed with me, partly because I was out,” Zell said. “Later, in private practice, I made my identity clear on my website so people knew they’d have a safe space.”

Her research is driven by those lived encounters. “There are models of suicide risk that completely ignore systemic oppression,” she said. “But for trans youth, discrimination is central to suicide risk. I want to push toward models that explicitly account for how systemic injustice fuels suicidal thinking.”

Her findings so far underscore what many advocates already know: family support can be life-saving. “When trans youth are respected by their families—when parents use their name, their pronouns, and help them access care—their suicide risk doesn’t increase compared with cisgender youth,” Zell said. “But rejection can be devastating. In those cases, chosen family and queer community become critical.”

Because of her identity and personal history, Zell is no stranger to the critique that she is “too close” to her topic. She doesn’t buy it. “I don’t believe in perfectly objective research,” she said. “Whether you’re inside or outside the community you study, you bring bias. The key is checking your work through collaboration, feedback, and evidence.”

Her stance reflects her counseling background: honesty about subjectivity paired with a commitment to rigor. “I’m not trying to find out if trans people face oppression. That’s a fact. My work asks how those sociopolitical factors interact with suicide risk and what can be done to intervene.”

Looking back, Zell sees her path from a burned-out therapist to a fifth-year doctoral candidate as a process of redefining what success means. “In the past, I measured worth by grades, by productivity,” she said. “Now I think more about balance. How to prioritize wellness over constant output.”

Her research may be rooted in tragedy, but her approach is grounded in hope: that by asking better questions, she can help build a system where fewer families face the loss hers did.

“Suicide is complicated,” Zell said. “But if we can understand the protective power of support, maybe we can make it less common.”

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Mayah Garcia-Harper

By Jessica Florescu, CLA Student Writer - November 10, 2025

Before starting her college education at Oregon State, Mayahuel Garcia-Harper, ‘25, had a different plan. Her experience growing up on a farm outside of Portland led her to considering zoology, specifically at Colorado State University. 

“I was always a huge animal lover,” said Garcia-Harper. “I was exploring the natural areas around my family’s farm, identifying insects, reptiles, and anything else that moved. I felt a connection between me and critters of all shapes and sizes.”

But the COVID-19 Pandemic derailed Garcia-Harper’s plans. She decided to defer her enrollment at Colorado State and take a gap year. Over fall 2020, Garcia-Harper went on a three month backpacking trip through Utah and Wyoming, led by the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS). 

“Taking that time in the wilderness was the best thing that I could have done,” said Garcia-Harper. “I proved to myself that I could accomplish physically and mentally challenging things. My self-confidence grew exponentially.”

Returning to Oregon from isolation in December 2020, Garcia-Harper considered reapplying to college. There was still uncertainty in 2021 as to whether in-person classes would be offered, so Garcia-Harper decided to stick close to home and enroll in Oregon State’s zoology program at the College of Science.

Garcia-Harper began her first year at OSU as part of the Louis Stokes Alliance for Minority Participation (LSAMP) program, managed by the Educational Opportunities Program (EOP), and lived in Sackett Hall while classes were still part in-person and online. Although Garcia-Harper was fascinated with animal behavior studies, she ended up switching her major to psychology, after a stint in the University Exploratory Studies program, to gain more of a school-life balance. 

Garcia-Harper explained, “I was doing really well in my classes, but my social life struggled, because I needed to lock in so much with school. I was sometimes overwhelmed with the STEM curriculum and that was when I started looking into different avenues to get myself to the same end goal: learning more about the strong connection that animals have with humans and vice versa.”

Garcia-Harper began working as a research assistant in the Human-Animal Interaction Lab through the College of Agricultural Sciences, where she was able to explore animal behavior, cognition, and attachment theory, facilitating training sessions with family pets and children. 

As a student in the School of Psychological Science, Garcia-Harper was introduced to how manmade and natural spaces can impact people’s behavior and cognition. Through Professor Sabine Huemer’s Conservation Psychology (PSY 492) course, students learn more about what motivates people to practice sustainable actions. Garcia-Harper connected these concepts to the interactions between humans and nature in relation to built environments. 

Garcia-Harper joined Dr. Huemer’s Nature Engagement Studies (NEST) Lab as a research assistant and for her Honors College thesis, she explored the learning outcomes of increased daylight, greenery, and natural elements (wood) in K-12 classroom settings. 

“There isn’t much previous research available that looks at this specifically in educational settings,” said Garcia-Harper. “The biophilia hypothesis states that humans have an innate desire to connect with the natural world. It has been suggested that incorporating natural elements in indoor settings can improve things like productivity, learning, even happiness in humans. I was investigating if this can be seen in educational settings.”

Garcia-Harper was also partially inspired to explore this hypothesis after working in her mother’s early childhood center, Escuela Viva, as a young adult. “I worked with children from ages six months through five years old and observed how our classroom turtles, named Mertle and Gertle, helped facilitate a calmer transition that positively shifted the kids’ focus when their parents dropped them off.” 

Now, she’s returned to working at Escuela Viva for the time being before finding a Ph.D. program that’s right for her interests in environmental psychology.

For current students, Garcia-Harper recommends becoming part of campus EOP programs to find community and build a support system. For those studying psychology specifically, explore all of the different facets of psychology and what careers are available after graduating. 

“I knew I didn’t want to become a therapist, mainly because of my personal difficulties of compartmentalizing things paired with being highly empathetic,” explained Garcia-Harper. “But that doesn’t mean you have to either when majoring in psychology. The field is broad and diverse and I encourage students to explore and become self-aware of their own interests for the future, in order to find the best personal career path.”

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Gordon Gilkey demonstrating a printmaking technique in 1951 |Credit: OSU Special Collections & Archives Research Center (SCARC) 

By Jessica Krueger, CLA Student Writer - November 14, 2025

Gordon Gilkey’s retirement, by his estimation, lasted only two weeks. 

It was the late 1970s and Gilkey was in his mid-sixties. A devoted art teacher and tireless college administrator, Gilkey had spent his last thirty years at Oregon State University—first as a professor and head of the art department, then as dean of the College of Liberal Arts from 1964 to 1977. 

It was Gilkey, in fact, who had led efforts to establish the CLA in the first place. When Oregon State hired Gilkey in 1947, it offered no degree programs in the humanities and fine arts. OSU’s focus was on agriculture and the “hard sciences.” Gilkey strongly believed in the value of a liberal arts education, and over the course of many years, convinced the university's administration of its importance. It is in part thanks to Gilkey that OSU offers such a diverse range of degree programs today.

Indeed, Gilkey had never been one to sit still—especially when art was involved. 

After graduating in 1936 from the University of Oregon with a Master of Fine Arts in printmaking, Gilkey was hired as the official artist for the 1939 New York World’s Fair. Over a two-year period, Gilkey worked diligently to etch sixty or so plates. Each was unique and  captured some aspect of the fair’s construction, exhibitions, or grand visions for the future. 

Because multiples are made of each original print etching, Gilkey believed that printmaking was a more democratic medium than other fine arts. 

In post-World War II Europe, Gilkey worked alongside the “Monuments Men” as he led efforts to gather and preserve German war art. In his spare time, he taught Holocaust survivors and prisoners of war how to draw.

In 1965, Gilkey organized support for the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Endowment for the Arts. Recognizing that the state of Oregon would need its own agency to receive funds from the endowments, Gilkey later helped to establish the Oregon Arts Commission. Today, OSU’s Valley Library features artwork which the commission helped to  select and acquire through its Oregon’s Percent for Art in Public Places program. 

By the time Gilkey left OSU in 1978, he had accumulated an enormous collection of art. An experienced printmaker himself, much of the art was Gilkey’s own work. But most of the pieces had been gathered over years of travel and through exchanges with friends, students, and other artists. 

For years, Gilkey had kept his collection in the basement of his house in Corvallis. He invited students and locals to see it, but otherwise the art remained tucked away in steel cases. Now that he was retired, Gilkey wanted to find a proper home for his art collection, a place where the public could see and enjoy it. 

“(Art) helps enrich people’s lives,” Gilkey said. “It allows for their own personal expression, and then the products of their expression enriches (other) people’s lives.”

So Gilkey wrapped up his last class at OSU and within two weeks had moved to Portland, art collection in tow. He donated most of his art to the Portland Art Museum and took a lifetime appointment there as curator of prints and drawings. In 1993, the museum inaugurated the Vivian and Gordon Gilkey Graphic Arts Collection, named in honor of him and his wife of fifty-seven years. 

Until the mid-1990s, the Portland Art Museum was tied with the Pacific Northwest College of Art (then the Museum Art School) and so Gilkey got involved there too, as part-time professor and resident printmaker. Today, the PNCA offers the Gilkey Center for Printmaking in support of students interested in the medium. 

Asked about his personal philosophy in 1998, Gilkey replied: “Well, I keep learning. I learn more about people, I learn more about art as I travel, as I read. And as I work with my students, work with my colleagues, I learn more about art. And I have developed (a broad) taste in art from all periods, and in all media. 

“So I try to impart that to my students: Keep an open mind, be able to judge your own work, and don’t be too critical of other people’s work. They have a right for their own expression.”

Gilkey continued to make prints, teach art at the PNCA, and work for the Portland Art Museum into his late eighties. He passed away in 2000, but the barriers he broke and paths he paved for the creation and sharing of artwork continue on.

This is the third and last installment in a series which discusses the life of Gordon Gilkey (1912-2000), a well-known printmaker and the first dean of Oregon State University’s College of Liberal Arts. Born and raised in Lane County, Oregon, Gilkey graduated from the University of Oregon in 1936 with a Master of Fine Arts. After his work with the German Wartime Art Project in post-World War II Europe, Gilkey returned to Oregon where his service to the arts continued. He had tremendous impact on OSU, local and national art scenes, and museums across the U.S. In 1998, oral historian James Strassmaier sat down with Gilkey to document his legacy for the Oregon Historical Society. Read part 1 and part 2 of Gilkey's story.