The Artist's Way

I’ve been off from work this week and attempting to prune through the detrius of a summer move. (Yes, I know it’s months overdue.) I tend not to be efficient at tasks like this, in part because it entails deciding which books to keep. Then I end up re-reading books, or feeling guilty about never finishing Infinite Jest and flipping through its pages trying to figure out where I left off.

It had been a long time since I picked up Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. The writer Kate DiCamillo recommended it to me twenty years ago. I needed the refresher. While I write in my journal compulsively, I hadn’t been doing “morning pages” — essentially, three pages of free-flowing writing in the morning. More to the point, I needed the reminder that to write well we almost always must write badly. We can’t judge those early drafts. We must commit to working hard to improve upon them. And keep at it, even when it’s frustrating and exhausting. Good things can emerge from that process.

“Each painting has its own way of evolving … When the painting is finished, the subject reveals itself.” William Baziotes

The Eye of the Beholder

I met Aimee Ng several years ago and we toured the Frick — where she is now chief curator — together. There is a lot of focus on the dearth of women artists, or more accurately on their underrepresenation in galleries and museums. I would argue the lack of women in curatorial roles has an impact too. Ng made a point of unearthing the stories of the women featured on the Frick’s walls. Here’s a story I wrote on what she found out.

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/12/20/arts/design/aimee-ng-curator-frick-gainsborough.html

Wisdom on the Streets of New York

There are many reasons I love New York. The theater, ballet, public readings. Sometimes it is the unexpected which fills me with delight. Street art, for example. I love spotting Phoebe on lamp posts:

And I always seem to stumble across messages from Sevensoulsdeep when I need to be reminded why it’s important not to give up. To persevere. To have dreams and make a consistent, daily effort to realize them.

On How to Live

Sometimes people seem impressed when I tell them I keep a journal. They seem to view it as a feat of discipline. But the truth is I write in those pages compulsively. It’s how I communicate with myself. Even in middle age, I’m trying to figure out how to live. In between the reminders to meditate and exercise and pick up milk, that’s what I keep coming back to in those entries. How do I want to spend my time?

I wish I could tell you I had hard and fast rules. I don’t. But I do notice that I tend to mark time by the art I interact with. I remember museum shows, or a theater performance, or the first time I see a particular ballet pas de deux. Other parts of my life can be a little bit of a blur — the runs in the park, the morning lattes, the hours spent at my computer editing. But then it is the daily effort on projects that lead to something bigger.

I think my goal for this upcoming year is to balance the quotidian work with getting out to see things. Maybe, too, doing things, like dancing merengue. It all requires effort, and sometimes it seems like making sure I’m fed and reasonably healthy and working is all I can manage. But there is a payoff to both daily effort and making time for the fun stuff. Here’s to trying, at least.

Calvin Royal III is Pushing the Boundaries of Ballet

I had the immense pleasure of profiling Calvin Royal III for NPR. One of the best afternoons I’ve had over the past few months happened at the American Ballet Theater’s studios, where he was rehearsing with Isabella Bolyston. They danced “Bitter Earth” which is one of those pas de deux that just grab you by the heart. I find it so enlivening to be with people who are passionate about what they do and put the hours in to make themselves as good as they possibly can be. To the point where they are the very best in the world.

Here’s Calvin as Apollo.

Photograph by Rosalie O'Connor.

Wintering the Pandemic

More than a foot of snow fell in New York City yesterday. The weird thing is, it didn’t change so much. It looked lovely and we went sledding in Riverside Park. But otherwise, we stayed in, just as we have for the past upteen months. No theater tickets to set aside, no plans to check out an exhibit at the Met. Or to meet up with anyone. We can’t be inside with others, after all, and it is frigid outside.

There’s a sense of stasis. I’ve been writing and reading. I miss being out, though. I realize why I became a reporter: it forced me out, gave me license, even a requirement to do so. I know those days will come back. I just miss them. It’s been a long process of wintering.

One of the Best Parts of NYC: Theater

I saw two plays last week: “A Strange Loop” and “Fairview.” They are both intense nights at the theater. “Loop” is about an African American artist who moonlights as an usher at The Lion King trying to find his place in the world. It was a glimpse into the gay community in the City, and how harsh and racist it can be. Also the scary moment when you are trying to do something creative and have no idea whether you can bring that work into the world.

Near the end, a patron at the “Lion King” gives Usher advice that can resonate with all of us. “Live your life and tell your own story in exactly the same way: truthfully and without fear.”

“Fairview” is harder to summarize—suffice it to say that it confronts the largely white audience and literally asks that we stand in the shoes of the African American cast. Before the curtain call, I was standing on the stage. For real.

There are a lot of things that can be tough about living in NYC. The heat this weekend is unbearable. It’s expensive. Often exhausting.

And then I go to these shows and I think: wow, thank you. It doesn’t just engage me in a way screens never match. I find those evenings stretch me. And I remember them long after I leave the theater.

It's Been a Minute

Wow, Sam Sanders is a really good interviewer.

https://www.npr.org/2018/09/17/648879063/interview-metoo-hits-elite-sports

I think an important part of engaging with someone is being present. Which is harder than it sounds. Particularly when you are simultaneously thinking—would that be a good cut of tape?

As someone pointed out to me once, the ear is shaped like a question mark. Listen before you ask.

Perhaps I should put that on the front page of my journal, as a reminder.

Giacometti at the Guggenheim

Last Saturday I saw the Giacometti exhibit at the Guggenheim Museum. I like going to lifetime retrospectives in part because it is an opportunity to see how artists evolve.

Early Giacometti was derivative of the surrealists. And then he created his own unique way of capturing people. What struck me most was how small details--a smudge on a face, a dab of color on an otherwise grey form--gave such a sense of life to his sculptures.

In a video at the end of the exhibit, he described the painstaking effort of trying to capture what couldn't be captured.

He was never satisfied with his art. But he never stopped working.

Heavenly Bodies at the Met

My cousin was in town last week and we traipsed around the city together. It is cool to see New York through a visitor's eyes. He didn't want to leave Washington Square Park. He was so taken with the performers and the fountain and the people milling around.

I did manage to get him to the Met, to see Heavenly Bodies, the costume exhibit: https://www.metmuseum.org/press/exhibitions/2017/heavenly-bodies

Who knew Valentino bridal dresses would blend in so well in the medieval hall.