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People tell you a lot of really useless aphorisms when you have a baby.
When museums open the archives, some artists go to work.
As an artist-parent, I’ve tried to keep a sort of hands-off/crayons-out approach.
As the country devolves into just the place my 94-year-old Jewish grandma has warned me about for years, a few Saturdays ago I found myself spending a day staring at this man, Marcel.
It’s never as easy as it looks.
In between handing off our baby Amina to one of the 50 or so Moroccans who borrowed her for hugs and kisses.
Distance is relative.
The opening day for trout fishing in New York State falls on April Fool’s Day.
There’s a koan I think about.
When you look around you might see your neighbors but do you also see the heat they’re packing?
The life of the artist as parent makes you realize how few hours there are in the day.