the other side of the world

20160107_131913We went to Chile, my dad and I, to visit my sister, Phoebe. She lives in Futaleufu, in the Patagonia region which is way down south. I was nervous to travel so far while pregnant but Smokey did great and so did I.



I love seeing Phoebe’s life. She’s made such a beautiful one.


Of course we made art together. I sketched while Phoebe painted murals in her new house, we made a mosaic together in the kitchen.


Here’s Phoebe working on her mural, looking just like our  mom.

There’s a kind of magic when we’re all together.



How much does place matter, where we live? What is home? I think about these questions a lot.


Phoebe in her greenhouse, and below is her garden on her land. 12494872_10100336620337287_7091185328840765845_n










Some of my drawings from the trip:


And now it’s time to begin my new beginning. It’s 2016. I’m leaving my job in six weeks. My baby will be born in four months. A whole new life full of unknowns.

march 10th and mood indigo

My friend Janet and I went to see Mood Indigo in New York City on Monday night, as part of the Rendezvous with French Cinema at the IFC Center and we got to meet Michel Gondry afterwards!

michel gondry

It was a magical night as you can probably guess. It was also the 5 year anniversary of my friend Lee’s death. On March 10th I never know what to do with myself. This year, I’m also looking ahead to the one year marking of my mom’s death on April 18th. For Lee I usually drink a Bottingtons, take some time out of the day to mark it, to feel sad and miss him. But there was something about being at the movie that night– maybe it was that the movie deals with grief in a really lovely way, but also just being there, doing something I really wanted to do, something special. Because I’m still here. I’m alive, and doing something I really want to do is taking advantage of being alive.

After the film, my old boss intriduced me to Mr. Gondry, and I was so excited my hands were shaking and I started sweating through my clothes. I had just seen something that touched me so deeply and was so beautiful, and here was the human being who made it! Right there! All I could stammer out was “I loved the movie.” In that moment I couldn’t wrap my mouth around the words I wanted to say. So, Mr. Gondry, if by any chance you are reading this, here is what I wanted to tell you about my experience watching your film:

Last year I was with my mom while she was very sick, and then dying. Your movie expresses this experience in a beautifully visual way: giving an image to the way it felt to go through that. Feeling the walls close in, the house being taken over by a strange clinging, climbing dust that covers the sunshine, the strangeness of doctors and machines and treatments, growing older so quickly, wanting to jump in and change my own story, the world turning to black and white.

I also got to see some friends in the city (to all the friends I did not see, I’m sorry! There’s never enough time to see everyone, I love you and I will see you soon):


Some of the food I got to eat: 20140309_17183920140310_17435320140310_170013

And here’s my favorite bathroom in Manhattan: 20140310_182402

the flick

In the past two and a half years since I left New York City, I’ve felt at least mild anxiety each time I go back to visit. Something about the city itself, the streets I used to walk daily, the relationships I left there, my past coming face to face with my present. This week I went to the city for a day trip to see a play with two friends, and it was the first time I felt completely comfortable. Maybe it was because I was there with people I’d never been to the city with, or that enough time has passed…

April marks my five year anniversary of working in movie theaters. Five years ago, in 2008, I walked into the IFC Center and asked if they were hiring. That job changed my life in ways that only now am I starting to understand. On Tuesday, my friends Janet and Sandra (who run Images Cinema, where I currently work) and I went to see The Flick at Playwright’s Horizons. It’s a play about working in a cinema in the final days of 35mm film projection. Watching this play, which connects to my own life more than anything I’ve ever seen, feelings and thoughts rushed to the surface of my mind and heart.

Working as an usher/box office/concessions staff and eventually manager at IFC was such a sweet and tender time in my life (as well as a bit tumultuous). The people I met, the movies I saw, the things I learned became part of who I am. I remember my last day working there. As I walked through each theater at the beginning of the shift, doing my morning checks, I thought: this is where I became my adult self. I fell in love here. I changed. 

At Images Cinema I was given the opportunity to be a film projectionist: the dream! To project 35mm film for two years, the final two years before digital took over, was an honor. That was such a special job for me, one that I’ll never forget. I loved it. I miss it all the time. For these past few months there’s been so much to focus on with the new digital projection system, and all my new responsibilities, that I hadn’t taken the time to really think about what that transition meant. While watching The Flick all these feelings began surfacing: about film, and the regret of leaving it behind, the history of it and what it meant to me personally. I thought about Dave, the head projectionist who trained me. I really enjoy all my new responsibilities, and working with the new system– being a part of something new, on the cusp of change– but there’s something about my time as a film projectionist that has a sort of glow around it.

It’s hard to really explain how I feel about this play. Seeing my movie theater life– the mundane tasks of cleaning and running a theater, etc.– heightened on a stage was so exhilarating and touching. I have a lot of feelings about it, and I’m still processing them.

391565_410956015633780_1444561135_n in the projection booth at Images Cinema  217_516668979407_5720_n working box office at the IFC Center