Archive | Weather Matters

Lady-Made Nature

I had another bad writing day–can I write a book? is this something that should even happen?–so I put on my raincoat and sailed into this stormy day to look at paintings. Fine arts is a relatively new fascination for me. My mom has a BFA from Massachusetts College of Arts so I always focused more on film and literature (and fashion, who am I kidding?). Recently, though, I’ve really fallen in love with the rainbow time capsule offered by painting and, to a lesser degree, sculpture; I’ve even written critical essays about a few key shows this year.

I went to the Rachel Uffner gallery to ogle “Same Space, Different Day,” an exhibition featuring the paintings of Shara Hughes, who captures the glee of childhood with an old soul scope and a punkrock fairytale palette. Man o man, do I love her work. I first noticed it a year ago–she doesn’t live far from me in the Williamsburg-Greenpoint neighborhood of Brooklyn–and today was lucky enough to talk to Ullner herself about what makes Hughes unique to people far savvier than me. Continue Reading →

The Color of Everything

The best part of April is its explosion of color after winter’s black-and-white hegemony: reds, pinks, yellows, oranges, yellows, and greens. So many greens. This year, with hateful extremists running—ahem, ruining—the show, the metaphor offered by spring’s rainbow feels especially resonant. I’ve written about this before but it bears repeating with the new season: As a psychic, color is the most important part of every day. I often know the color before I know the story, and hue is the most important element of any outfit or space. Truly, I am so grateful for all the color each person radiates, for it is integral to our greatest gift: that we are each part of everything.

Pic: Brooklyn Botanical Garden

April Showers

This is the first Tuesday morning I haven’t had to climb into into critic drag in more than five years. My show, Talking Pictures, was cancelled along with most of NY1’s other entertainment programming; the layoff dovetails with the end of my 15-year tenure as a labor journal editor, a job that quietly conferred the bulk of my financial stability. All to say: I am at a serious crossroads. But like clockwork, I rise with the dawn anyway–make coffee and Gracie’s breakfast and putter into my office. For a minute I’m floored. What shall I do with this time? What path shall I forge forward?Then my eye falls on the flowers still blooming on my desk from last weekend’s readings. Freesia and pussy willows, still sitting pretty in my ecosystem like the most gracious of emissaries: pollenated, fragrant, soft. I sigh and take a deep soldiering breath. I can do this, I’m pretty sure. I can do this, though I don’t even know what “it” is yet. This is spring. This is not the time to fall.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy