that moment

that moment the clash comes on the radio and instantly, you are eleven years old all over again. when you were just beginning to figure music out. and before you worried about things like taxes and cancer. yes, that moment.

sundays (7/52)

sunday, february the seventeenth (or, one week ago yesterday): an impromptu road trip, to astoria (where the thrifts have always been good to me), my favorite girl in the world, an excellent sign, a few instant relatives, mandatory hotel bed-jumping, street 14 coffee, two loungers, one seriously rad lego guy, one spectacular wall of books, one swooping/crying seagull, one favorite secret hideaway. 

every sunday, every sunday. is what I'm hoping.

(see also: jen's sunday, amy's sunday)

for your thursday

I did not actually get to stay here. at the color hotel, aka the saguaro. but back in october, while I was teaching at oasis at the ace, I snuck down one morning and spent a few hours wandering the grounds. because I knew I'd need this dose of color in february, I just knew it. and if you are battling any variation of the cold grey forever, I bet you need it too.

sundays (6/52)

sunday, february the tenth: yellow tulips (getting me through the cold grey forever), old school spirograph set in action (fiiiiinally), serious photobooth evidence (of a pretty great weekend with ward's awesome mom aka nani), corner of mi casa (or, magazine spines that make me happy).

every sunday in 2013. as much as I can manage.

(checkit, jen's sunday, amy's sunday)

home

my favorite childhood polaroid picture sits in the bottom of a box somewhere. I do not actually need to take it out and look at it to remember. the details are forever forged in my mind. it's a polaroid my mom took right after she surprised a ten year-old me with a redecorated bedroom. in it, I'm sitting on my bed, which has been freshly repainted, the old comforter replaced with a brand new cream-colored satin one. there are fresh, frilly new curtains on the windows, a cornflower blue bedside table (covered with flowers hand-painted by my mother) and a frosty new glass lamp. plucked right off the pages of the JCpenny catalog, I believe. in the picture, I'm sitting on that bed and I'm beaming. it's a moment I revisit again and again. because it was a room that made me feel special, a room that felt authentically mine. I knew then there was a very specific art to the planning and making of a space. that there was love in it, so much love. in all the details, love. what I didn't know was just how much it would affect me later on in life. how much it would influence me, both as an artist and a mother.

and so this is the subject of my most recent piece in issue sixteen of uppercase magazine: my mom and the home she (artfully) made for her family. it was not an easy piece to write, friends. but I'm glad I did it, I'm glad I pushed through. it was the least I could do, the very least.

and I wish you could read it, mom. I really really do. because this one's for you.

sundays (5/52)

sunday, february the third: ezra and ava and one of those sunday afternoon trips to target that took way too long.

(friends who have joined in on the sunday fun: jen and amy)

a is for antidote

going through my instagram images from january and one thing's for certain: to actively seek out color is to survive winter.

xanthe, I do believe we're on the same page.