If any SFUAD students are itching to hit the slopes this winter, Zach Greer is the man to see. Director of the Outdoor Recreation Program at the Driscoll Fitness Center since the spring semester of 2012 and a graduate of the College of Santa Fe himself, Greer truly loves the activities he takes students out to do. A lot.

By Clara Hittel/Photos by Christopher Stahelin I am provided with hot tea and guided outside to the shed, amidst small patches of snow still clinging to the high-altitude chill. Within the odd structure that sits apart from Paul Groetzinger’s idyllic mountain home is the studio of Mesa Recordings. Groetzinger apologizes for the mess, while I decide that a variety of instruments scattered around the floor and dangling ominously from shelves overhead is exactly how a recording studio should look. He sits at his desk and I settle in by the space heater. Paul Groetzinger is a member of two well-known Santa Fe bands—D Numbers and Detroit Lightning—as well as a DJ and solo artist known as Feathericci. He is also now one of the founders of Mesa Recordings. I met the astoundingly friendly Groetzinger when I went to see Detroit Lightning play at the Cowgirl last week. It didn’t take me long to realize that this was the same Grateful Dead cover band I had the pleasure of stumbling upon at Totemoff’s—the bar on the slopes of the Santa Fe Ski Basin—a few weeks ago. Beats on the Basin is a regular winter occurrence, it turns out, presented by Hutton Broadcasting and benefiting the Adaptive Ski Program. Groetzinger and fellow Connecticut-born band mate Ben Wright, who have been playing music together since they were 14 years old and are both members of D Numbers and Detroit Lightning, run sound for every Beats on the Basin show. They are very busy men indeed. “I really like having a diverse musical life,” Groetzinger shares. “It makes me feel complete to do a bunch of different things. We’d sunk into the D numbers thing really heavily for many, many years and it’s nice that we’re all at...

By Clara Hittel/Photos by Christopher Stahelin     Jake Trujillo sits on a bench at the edge of the room observing a heated(ly comical) debate on the preservation of the lesser prairie chicken between state Rep. James Roger Madalena,  D-Rio Arriba, and state Rep. Candy Spence Ezzell, R-Chaves. After some staggeringly unprofessional questioning and a representative’s impersonation of a chicken, House Memorial 21 passes—“A memorial requesting that local officials support local efforts to preserve and protect the lesser prairie chicken and oppose its listing as “threatened” pursuant to the Federal Endangered Species Act”—and Trujillo slips from the House. Photographer Chris Stahelin and I later find him looking down at us from the second floor balcony. We wave at each other, and then the House Majority liaison disappears from the balcony in order to come down and speak to us. I first met Santa Fe-native Jake Trujillo in 2008. He was playing guitar and singing an original composition at Meow Wolf’s old location off Second Street. I thought he was a very impressive songwriter, and after that I saw him everywhere I went like he was a character in a comedy about a small town—the character that seems to work in every shop and café. (Note: Trujillo actually has worked in many cafés around Santa Fe.) This is why I was not surprised to find him working at the New Mexico State Legislature. “I got pretty lucky in the grand scheme of things—I got a pretty cushy job,” he grins. This year is Trujillo’s fourth at the Legislature—a job he says simply fell into his lap. He deserves it, even if it’s only temporary. “…It was always harder…to go back to barista-ing after working at the Roundhouse,” he admits. “Being a barista can be hard...

By Clara Hittel/Photos by Sandra Schoenenstein At 7:30 on a Saturday morning, I parked my car and trudged over to the Driscoll Fitness Center. If this is how early students have to leave to go to Ski Santa Fe, it’s no wonder they aren’t willing to wake up in time to go to Taos or Angel Fire. A few kids sat around the picnic table out front, adjusting to the chill outside in preparation for the slopes rather than huddling inside with hands wrapped around warm mugs of coffee in fear of the cold. I joined them at the table. The conversation I entered into was about what snow-appropriate garments we were lacking. Some people needed gloves, others hats. The immediate camaraderie of the trip goers was cheering so early in the morning. People began offering clothing and advice. I needed waterproof pants, as I have sadly outgrown my own super-official snowboarding pants. Sandra Duran graciously lent me her spare pair. The Feb. 2 journey up to the mountaintop felt like a summer-camp outing to a lake or other body of water where warm-weather activities might take place. The sun had risen with a vengeance and the radio offered what I would consider beach jams, such as Knee Deep (Feat. Jimmy Buffet) by the Zac Brown Band and Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Then again, we were all in parkas and woolen hats, and as we gained elevation the snow finally made its appearance. Pine branches drooped around us, burdened with winter, festively welcoming the line of cars that slowly ascended the mountain. My thoughts turned to ski trips of the past as the alpine scene crawled past my window. Growing up on the East Coast, my parents took me to the...

Story by Clara Hittel/Photos by Sandra Schoenenstein As the Hexagono gang wanders in and out of their communal office space in Alexis Hall following a meeting, I’m told that Rebecca will most likely take charge of answering for the group during the interview. Once all six of them – Rebecca Alvarez, Pablo Byrne, Suzelle Camou, Fernando Gaverd, Marco Lukini and Anacaro Villa – are seated in a row before me, I ask the first question on my mind: What would they consider themselves? I suggest that, to me, they seem like a collective of sorts. Rebecca looks around at the others briefly before responding that yes, a collective would be a good way to describe them—amidst a smattering of giggles from her comrades that she appears not to hear. Admittedly, they are a fun bunch and laugh a lot, communicating with each other by way of looks and gestures for the duration of our conversation and sometimes slipping into Spanish when consulting each other on how to respond. Hexagono formed two years ago, when some extremely motivated graphic design students “wanted to do something besides classes…something that no one else was doing in this school,” says Anacaro. All six current members of Hexagono attended different campuses of Universidad de Valle de México and were given the opportunity to study at SFUAD for less than their UVM tuition cost. They jumped at the exchange opportunity and eventually transferred to SFUAD permanently. Fernando explains how they formed Hexagono once at SFUAD: “Most of the time there were certain people – the ones who were staying at the lab after 2 AM, 3 AM, and all of us were with the same need…It’s super hard to get something as unified coming out of two people or three people,...