these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.

thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.

my artist website is here.

Feb 1, 2012


lately i have tucked all of myself in to my notebook and twists of yarn. there are no left overs.

and i also no longer have internet at home. this is a scary thing and very inconvenient but also fantastic. i get so much more done in a day now that i cannot run to check my email every 15 minutes when i am at home. i am forced to sit with the work in an old way, the way i used to before all this technology became the norm. i used to pace in the living room while i wrote. i used to wait and wait and wait to have the house to myself so that i could be crazy in it, pace around in it, take my clothes off, be naked in it, cry a little, or maybe cry alot. it is a way of working that i haven't enjoyed in so long it seems and i feel lucky to have it back. i wrote 500 words today in between rounds of German vocabulary and grammar. also, i have an excuse now to go to the library at CCA and look through the fancy art periodicals and fashion magazines from other countries. i am given the gift of Another Reason to Leave the House. still, i miss the blogs i used to frequent daily. i miss the electric words of others. other women typing their magnificent Love Letters To Self in to the glowing white rectangle. our own tiny art galleries, these spaces. our own surging, unapologetic diaries.

i can't stop thinking of francesca woodman. i know this might make me obnoxious but i don't care. she matters. i keep her book in my bed. i want to be near her images all the time. the world she was making. today i thought that at a certain point the line of our lives and the line of our work converge and become one. our art starts building a new world for us to inhabit somewhere over there, off to the side of the reality we know, and little by little we get closer to it, are pulled by its magnets and hooks. i wake every morning eager for my notebook and coffee. i am working every day and i can tell you honestly i haven't felt this much like myself in years. it is a beautiful and exciting feeling.