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The PieCrust of a Closed Question
The piecrust lodged in my emotional throat when I was 8 and it’s been there ever since. I was 8 and I was visiting the home of my sworn enemy. I can’t remember her name. I didn’t even remember she was my enemy until some relative – I can’t remember who –...
Happy Little Monster
Don’t do more … hide less. This is what my pirate buddy Karen Montanaro reminds me all the time, though I always forget who she’s quoting, and then she reminds me its Jerzy Growtoski. (“How will I ever remember this?” I asked her...I Stand up for You
I stand up for you you who did not find the partner who supports you and i mean your spirit, your heartbroken longing to sing out loud in your own voice I stand up for you you, whose tiny glories pale as you see other glories gloried you, who could never say “I...
Spiritual Farting in Public
I belong to a secret facebook group with two friends from a former success mastermind. We 3 failed out of it. This secret group is the only place I can come and vent and bitch and whine and not feel the shame of spiritually farting in public. In this secret place we...
Your job: the articulation of human experience
The articulation of human experience is your job. It is your whole job as an artist. (thus said my inner Nanny to me last night) Well … that’s almost your whole job. The other part is sharing it. Don’t roll your eyes at me. Remember …...
You are a catalyst for belonging
You are a catalyst for belonging. When you step onto a stage – you make a place for each person in the audience to belong there. And because all the world is a stage, no matter what you’re doing, you can step onto it. You represent your audience on that stage....
Do You March to Different Underwear?
Do you march to different underwear? Click To Tweet My grandmother tried to put the fear of underwear in me: what if I had an accident, someone saw my underwear – and it was ratty? So, here’s where my aesthetic differs from hers: I LIKE the look of...
Counting Fish
It was in Calaveras County, in the foothills of the Sierras in the ’60’s. I was 6. We went to a forestry preserve – maybe a fishery, and likely in Big Trees State park. We walked into a small flat meadow, where a forest ranger in short sleeves knelt...
I’m Seeing Friends
On Saturday, it became imperative I fill one wall of my studio with drawings of my – how do I say this – my 2-dimensional friends. It’s the only thing I know to call them. I’m not trying to be cute. I dragged the deskjet color printer up from the first floor. I...
