Arts manager and community organizer.

The DC Arts Center Pen Pal Project is a local pen pal initiative that seeks to keep the art of correspondence alive by creating and sustaining friendships and dialogue in Adams Morgan. The local aspect is crucial; all participants have a relationship with the neighborhood. Most modes of correspondence today encourage distance—both personal and physical. The pen pal project closes that distance. Distance is not always bad, but we have enough of it. It’s time for something that asks us to be earnest, to be real.

Writing pen-to-paper encourages people to think differently, to share sincerely, to be intentional. To connect with a stranger and wait patiently for a response—that is rare too. The benefits of having a pen pal have long been known, but opportunities to participate are infrequent.

Thanks to the institutional support of DCAC, finding a pen pal is easy. Users sign up with a brief survey and soon after are notified of a welcome letter awaiting them at DCAC. The welcome letter is the key to their correspondence; within it they learn how the system functions and—most importantly—who their pen pal is. Every aspect of the experience is accessible: envelopes are provided, and all writing levels are encouraged.

Sincere correspondence builds community. The DCAC Pen Pal Project endeavors to create a more connected neighborhood through the shared joy of letter writing.

The project is a replicable framework. It is now established at my alma mater, the University of Florida, under a club I used to lead: The English Society. Students can send and retrieve letters straight from the university library.

In a moment of intense hardship, head in my hands, I wondered: how did the knights of yore find their strength? Belief in divinity helped, but there was another thing: fellowship. They shared burdens, wisdom, meals and ordeals. I saw genuine value in that ancient framework, and besides, knights are awesome. I resolved to build a quest that encourages collaboration and connection culminating in a roundtable seminar.

I knew that the core model would be that of a scavenger hunt around the neighborhood. I took a walk around Adams Morgan and scouted six locations—spots where I could hide a sticker. After that, a flurry of iteration and experimentation had begun. I had decided that I wanted NFC technology to be the engine of the hunt—the same technology behind tap-to-pay. NFC stickers are very cheap, and when tapped with a phone they can transfer a link, just like a QR code. Stickers plus NFC created a discreet way of adhering interactable clues to walls.

Unbeknownst to me, this decision would have ripple effects that demanded a much larger scope. I had to create a website to host all the necessary information and cache clue activations; I had to determine how to best teach users about the NFC functionality. I wanted it to feel like magic, but magic cannot be explained. Striking the balance between mysterious scavenger hunt and accessible public program was an ongoing challenge. I had to wear three hats: public programmer, game designer, and the heavy steel helm of a knight.

There was a fourth hat too: graphic designer. I wanted Rove 54 to have a distinct aesthetic identity, a style that carried its Arthurian inspiration but was unmistakably contemporary. I commissioned my friend and talented artist @minivan.studio to design the Rove 54 sigil. That design became the keystone for the project’s aesthetic identity, and following his contribution I created a flyer and two copper artifacts, rewards for completing the quest.

The Pledge connects the six seal locations into a constellation, but it also does something much more significant: it commemorates previous Rovers. Each Rove 54 clue webpage carries a proverb, a short wisdom written by a previous Rover. Since this was my first experiment, there weren’t any previous Rovers yet, so I called on my friends. They may not have completed Rove 54 personally, but they’ve each inspired and supported me. They embody the spirit of Rove 54, and that makes them honorary Rovers. The Pledge distills what I believe is the core value of the project: everyone carries lived wisdom, and we all may exist in community and share our challenges with one another.

The other copper artifact is the coin. Admittedly, the design is rough, but I stand by the idea. Since Rove 54 is accessed through an NFC tag, access to the webpage can be discreetly hidden in a coin. The coin becomes a peer sponsorship mechanism: a rover completes the hunt, gets a coin, and gives that coin to a friend to challenge them to the rove.

I beta tested Rove 54 and those who participated enjoyed the experience. I got valuable feedback and was able to tighten all the loose screws on the project. That being said, Rove 54 must remain a working prototype for the foreseeable future. To operate as intended, Rove 54 necessitates monthly gatherings and community maintenance, and I determined that I lacked the bandwidth to properly establish it as a working graduate student.

Rove 54 can exist at any time, anywhere. I’m confident that one day I’ll have the means to bring Rove 54 to life.

For a long time I wanted to make a zine, but I wasn’t interested in producing something that only platformed my voice. I sat on this for a while before a different idea came to me: a system for performing memorable street interviews with strangers. The product of those interviews would become the foundation for the zine, and various fictional voices—written by me—would become the other half of each spread.

The process is straightforward but unique: I approach a stranger and ask them if they’d be interested in a one-question interview for the High Dive. If they say yes, I begin by asking them to choose an object from their bag to be the object of the interview. Sometimes I help them decide what object to talk about.

We begin with an informal conversation about the object and its meaning to the speaker. Then, I hand them a sheet of paper with a prompt: if this object was on display in a museum, how would you label it?

They write their response and then hand it back to me. Then, I surprise them: through the power of carbon copy paper, they get a stylized copy of their response to take home.

I take the basic original copy home to scan and include in the High Dive. At first I intended for the High Dive to be almost entirely composed of these interviews, but I felt like they needed a reason to exist—something more. Most editorial techniques would distract or diminish from the original interviews, but I had an idea: what if my written contributions were characters of their own, and what if they responded to the interview in their own way? From there, everything fell into place.

I hope to publish the first issue in late 2026 / early 2027!