Where to begin.
Writing this feels surreal. This year, I’ve dreaded Thursdays (the day we print) twenty-five times. I’ve wondered if I could do it twenty-five times. I haven’t felt like I’ve done a good enough job twenty-five times. I have built and let go of something I loved twenty-five times. I have wanted this magazine to succeed twenty-five times, and made mistakes twenty-five times. And now I’ll do it all for the twenty-sixth time.
Even though I’ll return as Editor next year, this print is special. It’ll be the last Critic I print as a student at Otago University. When I come back, I’ll be looking in from the outside in at the student culture that has shaped me. That’s a bittersweet feeling.
I don’t think I’ll love anything like I love Ōtepoti, or Critic, ever again. When I came here, I was unsure. I continued to be unsure, and I still am – but I now have things in my life that are certain. I am certain that I love journalism, and that I am exactly where I need to be. I think I was put on this Earth to find Critic, which I understand sounds intense, but I really mean it when I say this magazine is so special to me.
I remember that very early this year, an ex-Critic Editor from the early 2000s came into our office, just dropping by. He quizzed me on how things were, and we were mutually happy to hear how things were pretty much still the same despite the 20 or so years that had elapsed since his tenure. “You’ll never work this hard again,” he told me – and I get it. As the Editor who trained me, Nina, often said: Critic is a labour of love. And I think that when you pick-up Critic, you can actually feel how much every staff member genuinely adores it. I doubt I’ll ever feel this passionately about a role ever again, and I don’t want to. Like a first love, I will always have a special place for Critic.
For 101 years, this magazine has continued, and it has been an utter privilege to serve as Editor this year to continue that legacy. My job, university and education is a gift, and every period of stress has been worth it. Every hard week has been a small price to pay for the independence, patience and trust in myself that I have gained.
I wish I could thank every one of our readers personally. Everytime I walk through the Link and see people reading the magazine, watch someone flip through the pages during a lecture or point to an illustration to show their friend, I genuinely feel a sense of surprise. It means the world to me that even one person might read this thing, let alone the many that I’ve interacted with this year that do. Thank you.
To our staff and contributors, I hope you know that I love you all to your core. If any of you hit me with a car I would say thank you. You all make me so happy, and I couldn’t ask for a better team. The creativity, adaptability and passion you all demonstrate is a beautiful thing. I am lucky to have all of you.
So, here is the twenty-sixth mag for 2026. If you’re still reading, I hope to see you around for 2027. You won’t regret it.
PS: Don’t burn couches.
