Salt, Ash, and Lead: An Artist and His Materials
The most harrowing allusion in the painting is unavoidable—the train tracks.
After a trial-by-fire year as public school substitute teacher and fly-by-night freelancer, Julia will shed the tribulations of the work-world to embark on a MA in art history and museum studies at Case Western Reserve University in Cleveland, OH. If you are in town, she’ll gladly take you to a local museum. She enjoys walks, leopard print, and good conversation.
On Music in Silence
I wonder if there is not a bit of wisdom in learning to control and interpret the metaphorical silences that intersperse our lives.
What Two Hippos Taught Me about Love and Friendship
Loving another person is simultaneously the simplest and the most complicated thing that we do.
Words, Words, Words: “Unquiet Thoughts” on Holy Week
The constant babble of words in my head—all clambering for my attention—was not conducive for entering into Holy Week.
Aristotle, the Buddha, and PB&J
Some days might call for an extra dab of peanut butter and others for rivers of jelly.
The Wheels on the Struggle Bus (or Julia’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day)
HOW DARE THE SUN SHINE WHEN I FEEL LIKE A PIECE OF TRASH STUCK ON THE UNDERSIDE OF A PARK BENCH THAT HAS BEEN PEED ON BY DOG.
Used Things, Old Things, Worn-but-good-enough Things: A Defense
As we receive and give our things away, we perpetuate a legacy of generous exchange.
Wrapped in Significance: Christmas Art History 102
Because of these human details within the Nativity story, the tiny family huddled in a barn in Bethlehem so long ago feel as close as our own memories.
Lend me Your Ears Part II: Podcasts
Oh, and the whole shebang is narrated by a mouse.
The Tell-Tale Figment of My Imagination
The eternal shades of nightly gloom, which had so recently entwined my soul like a noose, loosened their chokehold and seemed to float away, ethereal bonds dissipating like specks of dust caught in a sunbeam.
Little Fires Everywhere: A Book Review
What if the fairy-tale village is not so innocent? What if the destitute mother sues for custody? What if Cinderella seduces the prince?
The Glorious Summer the Ceiling Fell In: A Plan for a Poem
I’d personify the pigeons that crowd onto the narrowest of ledges on the building across the street, their plumage flashing psychedelic green and pink.
Rising to the Occasion
Then we heard an all-too-familiar sound―a jolt and an internal groan as the bus gasped for breath. We all responded in cartoon-like unison.
Squirrels, Pearls, and Makin’ Whoopie with Your Hat On
For example, the medieval church declared you could not have sex on Sundays (or Thursdays, Fridays, or Saturdays).
Junctions
While at home, I went on a walk, remembering how, after a long rain, the air would smell like cupcakes or Cheerios as the fumes from General Mills wafted over the trees and rooftops.
“Natural History Psychedelia”: Alexis Rockman’s “Great Lakes Cycle”
These works are about as subtle as a trainwreck, but they are surprisingly fun, despite their depressingly urgent call to take environmental responsibility.
Tax Season, Toil, and the Non-triumph of Work: A Meditation on Ecclesiastes
What has a man from all the toil and striving of heart with which he toils beneath the sun? For all his days are full of sorrow, and his work is a vexation.
Neighbors
On Sunday, I came across a body, lying by the side of the road—an expanding pool of blood seeping from the head.
Authorial, Historical, Ghostly, and Sad: The Many Voices of Lincoln in the Bardo: A Novel
In some respects, Lincoln in the Bardo doesn’t really feel like a novel at all (despite the insistent subtitle), but is rather a carefully curated collection of voices that reside in some literary bardo between genres.
Hail Marys: Christmas Art History 101
Why this part of the story? Why is this heavenly exchange, from a narrative full of divine meetings, such a favorite in western Christian art?
Dulce Domum
But to return to reality, the sweet normality of home becomes sweetest after absence. The familiar is defined by exposure to the foreign and new.
Lend Me Your Ears: Podcasts
For a blog written by people between the ages of twenty-three and thirty circa 2017, it’s been a while since we’ve talked about podcasts.
It’s About Time
Time isn’t food, money, a place, or a feeling, or an object or a person—it just is. Despite a wealth of idioms, it’s still hard to talk about time and harder still to savor it.
Help!
I always tried to do the independent thing first—I’ll call my own tow-truck, I’ll look for my own apartment, I’ll find a job, I’ll pick a grad program.
The Best Things Happen While You’re Dancing
It was glorious. We started slow, but accelerated into more and more swings and twirls. The best dances are the ones with strange guys who happened to be very good dancers.
The Kingdom Belongs to Such as These
By mid morning, the classroom was really heating up. I turned on every available fan, shut off the the overhead lights, and opened the windows.
The Fat Lady Sings
In opera we spend time on what matters in life: the big emotional peaks and abysses.
Loving A Man Called Ove: A Book Review
Like many a literary grouch before him, Ove’s icy winter of life thaws before his final curtain.
Wunderkammer!
Nowhere else in this big wide world of ours can you find a life-size Michael Jackson and Princess Diana made entirely out of marzipan.
