a commodified soul

Asking myself big fluffy questions about art and my art and art as story versus art as craft... yadda yadda... it finally occurs to me how deeply inauthentic my work has been in recent years. Like a forgotten early 80s James Taylor song, my paintings and videos and photographs are so impersonal they disappear. In…

why you live

You owe it to yourself to follow your dragons as often as your bliss. You owe it to your family to follow your inner critic, taking notes. You owe it to your soul to call Time out on your own journey. The marker of a healthy soul is the joy it brings you to help…

the tiger and the bureaucrat

At the end of all the smart thoughts and bold decisions and colorful gestures you ask yourself, How do I show him my heart? We just aren't raised to do this. Or maybe I wasn't. Be reasonable, rational, and smart, is what I heard growing up. But the passion, and deep deep knowing, of your…

where it begins

It begins with an angry woman in a city gone mad. It begins with Amazon and poverty colliding, with immigrants driving for the first time in their lives alongside homeless people migrating across the city in dilapidated trailers. It begins with your mother calling, asking, "Were you caught in the shooting?" and you saying, "Probably…

Feel

This love as I understand it is big and very simple. Like the sheen of velvet, a symphony's crescendo, the funniest cartoon. It exists, constant and pervasive, mostly ignored. You do not want to feel loved. You have work to do. You suck, fate wins. You microwave your dinner, happy to feel malnourished, denied, and…

​You know how it goes. You're happy, you're sad. It's "good" and it's "bad." In the end it's a wash but you've loved and you tried and tomorrow you'll do it again.

I love you (from the Swearing Goddess)

Dig deeply. Dig with the rustiest trowel, with the plastic shovel your nephew takes to the beach, or with the scissors you trim your hair with. It doesn't matter. Dig into your soul. Down deep. Into your heart. Your liver, your toes. Go further. Dig until you find it. Somewhere, in a dark, unlit, maybe…

Why does disruption feel so good?

I leave one curtain open so she can look out into the night. I skip the downward dog because he's stretched out on that end of the yoga mat. I sleep on one side of the bed so they can have the other. I do this because they ask for so little else: food, water,…