Rand’s work had brought us to New Mexico for the very first time, and in a few weeks, we’d be in Japan. The timing was unintentional but it felt like my path was already set. If I was going to walk through Hiroshima, now long rebuilt, I couldn’t do so without considering the consequences of…
I broke my long-held rule about not taking photos of artwork while at The Georgia O’Keeffe Museum. I don’t know if my views on the matter have changed or not. Perhaps they’ve shifted only slightly. I still get angry at people using flashes to light up ancient works, I still want to scream at the…
Santa Fe has the highest concentration of galleries in the world – many of which sit side-by-side in adobe buildings along Canyon Road. It’s like visiting a bunch of tiny museums, the price of admission being the occasional side-eye you get from gallery owners once they’ve sized you up and realized you can’t afford anything.…
I thought Santa Fe was beautiful. Rand had been wanting to visit for years, had built it up in his mind so much that he had already asked me if I wanted to move there before we’d even set foot on the ground. He’d idealized so much that reality had trouble living up to what…
I spend a lot of time trying to make sense of things in my world. I’m often looking for explanations when there aren’t any, and inevitably find myself frustrated by the lack of answers. Why does Rand leave his shirt and jeans on the ground next to bed, stretched out, as though someone had been…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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