Myriad Selves

Myriad Selves

         I could die of difference, or I could live myriad selves. Audre Lorde The enormous collage, Jheri Now, Curl Later, by L.A. artist Mark Bradford has been a part of the Brooklyn Museum’s permanent collection for over fifteen years. My love affair and subsequent...
Boob

Boob

    I. “Just look at those boobies,” my mother said. I had never heard her utter the word “boob” before, let alone “boobies.” We were a missionary family, stopping to see relatives in Finland before moving permanently (terrifyingly) to the...
Mystery, Menace, and Early Sorrow

Mystery, Menace, and Early Sorrow

The dolls never slept.  They stayed wide eyed and unblinking on their shelf in my small, overheated room, watching me watch the man and woman in the apartment across the way. As a child with insomnia, I was wide eyed, too, although I would have preferred sleep....
Open House in Open Season

Open House in Open Season

We thought it the ultimate frontier. Not for the curbside windshield shards or Thumbelina’s dollhouse—four lopsided floors and a staircase that twirled from one tiny room to the next. Not even for a price tag that could fit inside a mouse hole in the plaster wall. It...
Deep Listening

Deep Listening

The Concert It was a Friday night and Pauline Oliveros of the Deep Listening Institute was giving a concert in a converted warehouse in downtown Boston. It was a large space with girders; everything painted brightly and divided into many rooms and studios. I followed...
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