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Autumn Outside My Car Window
Autumn Outside My Car Window
September 2025
"The leaf doesn’t mean anything. It blew into my car by happenstance. But I cling to it, even now in my memory, and search every centimeter of its textures and colors, every cell of its eroding image for meaning, some sacred connection to my narrow view of reality, a tether to nowhere but my own echo. I won’t find god in the leaf. It’s just a leaf."
The Emily Dickinson House Museum
The Emily Dickinson House Museum
Getting Sweaty with Emily, August 2023
Getting Sweaty with Emily, August 2023
I wondered if he loved Emily Dickinson once when he was young and somebody took her away from him. I wondered if he just rediscovered a middle school crush. I wondered if he related to her, both contented shut-ins. I still wasn’t jealous. I want to kiss Emily too. I’ll take them both on adventures. Imaginary friends.
Hotel UMass (work in progress)
Hotel UMass (work in progress)
In the April sunshine, a man and woman walk together toward the building. I am on the seventh floor; I look down on them as fascinated as I am by ants. They pause just outside the door and linger together, chatting warmly. I can feel their friendliness all the way from here but they do not touch, all business. For maybe twenty minutes they talk and I watch with varying degrees of attentiveness and voyeurism. I make coffee and drink it. I review my notes for my presentation. I watch. They talk and laugh.
I realize I miss this energy -- friendly, warm, intelligent conversation with someone who chooses to linger outside a doorway with me just a little longer. My attention raptly paid to someone who focuses entirely on me, who gets me and lets me attempt to get them.
The brick and cement and the sunshine are filled with promise. I marvel at how many people must traverse this quad every year. I am an ant.
The Clark
The Clark
The Albright-Knox Gallery
The Albright-Knox Gallery
Mass MoCA
Mass MoCA
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