My own Nijinsky Faun

                                       These nymphs, I would perpetuate them.                                                            …

We Two, How Long we Were Fool’d

Whitman always says it best. Whatever it is, he says it best. My dad and I just spoke about Whitman, and coincidentally, the next day, I got my copy of Leaves of Grass out of storage and I found a poem that I don’t remember reading, though I must have read it a dozen times….

Silk Skirt Ripped from the Lining of an Antique Wardrobe

  Dupioni silk – stiff, high sheen – has always been used for royalty and wedding dresses. This gorgeous silk lined my antique wardrobe until this weekend. When I bought it, the silk was ripped and hanging loose, threadbare, begging to be stripped. I had just moved to Oxford and vowed to buy a wardrobe so…

Chalk Skulls & Vodka

The Chiltern Hills in England are made of chalk. Friday night Sean collected armfuls of the rocks from a building site that were bound for the skip. Balls of chalk rolled from Sean’s arms onto the kitchen table like dusty skulls. We took them in hand and wrote each other love notes on the house –…

little clouds and blind spots

I love Sean’s portraits of self-portraits – he dissolves into a fairy tale, a Little Prince, a Pierrot. He becomes his truest self twice over. When I paint my face I create a self-portrait on the most immediate canvas. The mirror provides me with a portrait, then I paint a self-portrait on its reflection until…