For the first time in a while, I have a room that’s all my own. Even though we moved almost 9 months ago, it took me some time to settle in. I bought and repurposed some furniture: a desk, a small bookshelf, a daybed with soft pink sheets.
And then I finally got around to putting up my art. I want to tell you about it.
First, the wall above my desk…
This wall is covered in blue and white wallpaper in an ocean wave pattern. I inherited it from our landlord’s son since this used to be his room. I love it, but the art here needed to be big and bold to stand up against the pattern of the wallpaper.
Brad Kayal’s The New Pornographers poster. Fillmore, February 1, 2020. I think this is the last show I saw live before the pandemic?! My now-partner was in town from New York and we had been dating for barely a month.
Waffle Bail fundraiser flier I pulled off a pole in Oakland. I was there to attend district leader training for Elizabeth Warren’s Presidential campaign. Unfortunately, it was also the day I found out my dad had cancer, so I left the training at lunch and never came back. As a lawyer, it reminds me that the system I’m part of is broken, and it’s my responsibility to fix it, even just a little bit, every single day.
9 coasters mounted on top of glass. I got this frame at a garage sale for free. The owners were emptying a parent’s home after their death and they wanted everything gone by the end of the day. Underneath is a boring Susan Sargent floral print but it works as a background for some coasters I’ve collected over years’ of memorable nights. Except for the one in the bottom right corner, which was designed by my amazingly talented friend Megan Dweck. It’s a portrait of one of her cats drinking from a glass: a familiar scene in any cat household.
Hot pink Tenangos Otomi embroidery of two birds surrounded by flowers. I bought this on my first trip to Mexico City. I don’t believe in souvenirs but I was intent on bringing these back with me. There’s a similar embroidery of rabbits in our primary bedroom, and I gifted one with blue birds to my Mom. She used it to make a purse.
Nate Duval’s Brooklyn print. When I lived in Williamsburg in the early 2000s, the East River waterfront was dominated by the decaying wreck of the Domino Sugar refinery. You could smell the sweet, treacly sludge seeping out of its pores from blocks away. People broke in to take pictures and tag up the walls. When I moved to California, I ordered this print to remind me of home.
The next two aren’t particularly memorable, just images I love: Anisa Makhoul’s bright pants and sneakers (would totally wear) and a postcard from Blackbird Press of an orange cat with “whatever” written across her chest.
Frida Kahlo’s Self Portrait with Curly Hair. My Mom and I share a love of Frida Kahlo’s work so when I see Frida, I think of my Mom as well. A few years back, I picked up a large wall calendar with many of her paintings. This was the first page I framed. I didn’t get a chance to visit her house museum when I was in CDMX, which is one of the reasons I’m desperate to go back.
I’m constantly adding things.
Like these two tiny square prints by Sally Nixon that remind me of living on my own after my divorce. In one, a woman is eating a takeout meal of hamburger and fries alone on her orange living room couch. In the other, a woman is reading Busy Philipps’s autobiography under a colorful crocheted afghan, her face slathered in a green clay skin mask. I remember listening to the audio book as I cleaned my bedroom, sobbing during the chapter about Busy’s abortion.
Martha Rich’s “I Said No” cat print. I’ve been following Martha since accidentally buying her (now-favorite, threadbare) sweatshirt with the “Stop Talking” cat image. I adore Martha. She’s an activist, and an artist, and I just love her style.
Now the wall behind me…
This is what you’ll see if we’re ever on a video call together.
Dave Kloc’s the Mountain Goats Wyvern Tour poster. One of my best friends came all the way from Australia to see me… and the Mountain Goats at the Fillmore in 2019. We went both nights.
Cassandra Calin’s Nap print. A gift from my partner. This is a very accurate portrait of me when I sleep.
Two Abigail Penner prints, together in a single frame. One of my favorite artists, Abigail has a series reflecting on her own body dysmorphia and eating disorder that deeply resonates with my own struggle. You Look Lovely has her underwear-clad protagonist looking into the mirror at her monster self. In the other, the same character is staring into a fridge, empty except for beer cans.
Jen Duffin/Nova Mercury’s small round weaving in pinks and blues. One of these days, I’ll take Jen’s course on how to make these, but until then, I’m privileged to have hers.
Cloey Zikmund’s Banana Cat print. Cloey is a tattoo artist in Chicago who does incredible black tattoos on botanical and animal themes, and champions representation and ethics in her profession. At the start of the pandemic, when she could no longer draw on people, she began making art prints. Our cat Annie is orange and we call her Banana. So I had to have it.
Anisa Makhoul’s Blue Ink Flowers print. I wanted something cobalt blue to match the wallpaper on the opposite wall. I didn’t want it to be a Matisse poster. Very happy to have Anisa’s flowers in a pitcher instead.
Jimbobart’s Underwear Bear. This was a gift to myself. I’ve been obsessed with Jimbobart forever, I’ve gotten their pieces for friends, and finally allowed myself to get one too, to complete this gallery wall with a pop of red. No regrets.
Next to the bed…
I have a daybed in my office. For friends to stay when they visit, for daytime naps, and okay… sometimes I sleep here when my partner’s and mine sleep habits don’t match.
Above it is a small curio shelf.
On it, among other meaningful trinkets is Anya Nazarenko’s Banana Cat polymer sculpture. Sometimes I’ll punch weird queries into Etsy to see what comes up. One day I typed in “Banana cat” because I have a cat named Banana. Anya’s work came up. She is an amazing multimedia artist who recently fled Moscow with her family to live and work in Georgia. She speaks about her opposition to Russia’s war in Ukraine and struggles between creating commercially successful works and those she’s passionate about.
As I was writing about these, a pattern emerged…
I never set out to host a veritable gallery of art made by women in my office, but it just kind of… happened? I didn’t buy these pieces all in one go: I accumulated them over years of following and admiring their work online. And when something spoke to me, I bought it and squirreled it away until I had the space to display.
But I’m so grateful to have all these people in the room where I spend most of my day, keeping me company. These women remind me to stay soft in a world that wants us to be prickly; colorful in a world that wants us to go grey to be taken seriously; joyful in the face of grief and struggle. I wouldn’t trade them for all the Picassos and Monets in the world.
