This is a self-portrait circa a decade ago– me doing me, an unrecognizable me. We shed ourselves. And any revisit is an exercise in revulsion. But instead of burying the traces, I've decided to try this foreign person on– as a character too close to home for comfort. I wrote this serenade on a Chinatown bus, Boston-New York, exactly ten years ago to the month. I remember because of the gray November rain swimming down the window.
Each morning I wake up in a Michel Gondry "Science of Sleep" haze and I think about which creative process I’d like to start with for the day. As a freelance artist I have the luxury of living in imagination land. When I tire of one project I simply shift to another one so that they’re all constantly interacting, influencing and inspiring one another. This week I’ve been working on producing/writing/directing a music video, pitching a column to Vogue.com, an article to T Style, writing a comedy spec, workshopping my feature dark comedy film script, shooting a self-portrait for this article, producing shoots for my fine art photography and brainstorming how to start a women’s rights non-profit combatting sex trafficking. Although it may seem like I’m all over the place I feel like Neo…that’s right I’m referencing the Matrix. I truly believe I see invisible creative/artistic code and I feel a compulsion to constantly create each moment of each day.