musings about art and writing in Lower Manhattan — For months now I’ve been passing by this marvelous public art project called the XO Love project (the interactive part of the project is you cross your arms in fists across your chest, take a photo, and post it.) Crossed arms are American Sign Language for “love.” The artist is…

it’s like Alice in Wonderland met the Great Gatsby in a Fendi bag — First, an admission: I am an enormous, longtime fan of the parklike island just an 8 minute ferry ride from Lower Manhattan — and what I love best about “Gov Island” is its unfinished, run-down, ghost-like solitude. I love that it is infested with artists and art colonies. I even…

I’ve lived in the Big Apple more than twenty years. The universe has thrown me 9/11, Sandy, Irene, unrest both King and Floyd, Ebola, Mad Cow and a global pandemic — not to mention a decade as an actress who just missed Broadway and second decade as a writer overlooked…

first, make sure you have access to coffee. — I’m the founder and by default the executive director of a tiny but extremely effective arts nonprofit. Founders tend to wear all the hats until they can fundraise salaries for other clever heads to wear some of these many hats. …

Once there was a grad student. She was bright and clever. She could string words together in glorious shapes that blurred into characters and stories under tiny reading lights. She spent five years drowning in coffee behind a screen, crafting and weaving, cutting and pasting, sweating over semicolons. Deleting. Retyping…