Every day I walk by the Persian carpet store down the street from my apartment.  A few months ago, I caught the reflection of the buildings in the rug store window.  It looks almost as though the Mt. Vernon row houses are a design emerging from the pattern in the carpet.

Of course, as a textile enthusiast, I am always going to be attracted to to the designs and textures of carpets — and I particularly like this one.  I also love to the architecture of these old, nineteenth century Mt. Vernon row houses, with their brickwork and arcs and ornate entrances.

So I am drawn this layering of pattern and texture.  The resonance of organic and geometric shapes and warm color in both the cityscape and the Persian carpet, the way they interplay.

The image feels right just now: this resonance, this layering of place.  Back in the fall I mentioned that I received the Greater Baltimore Cultural Alliance’s Ruby Grant.  This winter I’ll use part of that grant to take a research trip for the last two stories in my collection.

That means that I’ll be away from my much-loved neighborhood for a little while, as I complete this book which spans from Baltimore to Japan to Hawaii to Seattle.  This story collection that layers refractions of place as its characters move across a shifting globe in the wake of war, and transport their complex webs of belonging.


These photographs of Dulkarian’s Persian Rug Co. are part of an interest in Baltimore windows that seems to have taken hold this past year in my photography (see here).  In the coming weeks, I’ll write about my research travel, but I’ll also continue to post a series of these Baltimore windows.

In that way, I can layer place here in my studio space just as in my story collection.  I look forward to taking you all along on the journey!


Milk & Honey

I’ve been doing a lot of research for my book this week.  On Sunday afternoon, I decided to carry my research material across the neighborhood to Milk and Honey for some fresh air and a change of scenery.  I’ve been to this cafe a few times since I moved in last winter, but usually just as a brief stop on my way someplace else.  It was nice on Sunday to be in the open sunlight of those big windows with a wall of paintings and an expanding page of notes.

Last summer, on a stop in Milk and Honey, I took some pictures of their windows.  I love the industrial gold-dome lamps against the daylight, and the layering of cafe and church.

Window / Frame

On a walk with my friend John, we spotted this window in a Station North drycleaner.  I love that in this shot, the frames in the shop window play against the reflected windows in the buildings opposite, the sheet glass against the tactile brownstones, the 19th century arches against the spare wood frames.

Plus, I love that the site of this piece is in the window of the emerging arts district’s drycleaner.  Art is everywhere in this pocket of Baltimore.

If you look closely, you can see John and — if you look even a little more closely — me in this photo.  Which I think is kind of great.  Portrait of the artists, lingering in a Station North drycleaner.

I’ve noticed that there seems to be an interest in displaying frames in windows lately. We saw this frame display in a Mt. Vernon window the same day.

I like it: the concept suggests a playfulness about windowframes — and probes some larger questions about framing, the act of viewing, and art. There could be some good academic scholarship here. These pieces enact an age-old idea: Art as a window?

Portico: Industrial

For the first few months after I moved in to my apartment, this building nearby was covered in scaffolding.  I’ve been thinking about how scaffolding creates temporary spaces in the streetscape of a city.

This pedestrian archway holds its own beauty: the yellow-caged lightbulbs, one with its slight tilt, the slender gleam of the braces, the wood and rust.  The experience of partial enclosure, of being on and also apart from the street.

Over the past few weeks, the scaffolding has come down from this building in sections, until now it’s completely removed.  My experience walking this sidewalk is palpably different since.  There is a change in the way my vision focuses.  A way this pop-up urban architecture shifts the dynamic of place.

Walking Around


One of the things I like about my new apartment is the neighborhood, which is rich with architectural detail.  I’ve spent a lot of time walking around noticing.  This lion is on my regular route, and I love the saturation of color.  There’s a paired lion on the other side of the stoop, but this one is the exception: there is something to the curves of his nose and lips, the tendrils and etchings, and to the deep, expressive carve of eye.

p.s.  The rich coloration makes me think of this painting by Mark Rothko.




A friend and I are working on a photo collaboration with this old 35 mm film camera.  I’m taking the photos, and he’s developing them.  So he has no idea what raw material he’ll be working with, and I have no idea what he’ll do with it.

It makes me think about how different film is from the digital photos I’ve become so used to.  Each shot requires more thought because you balance factors like film speed and depth of field — and because you take fewer of them.  And even while you’re more invested in each picture, you also learn to let it go once the shot’s been taken.  It may or may not come out, and you won’t find that out for a while. As I participate in this collaboration, I’m not thinking too much about the results, just enjoying the process.  It’s a nice creative space to be in.

Kachemak Bay

Homer Spit

I just returned from two weeks in Alaska, where I spent my time walking on beaches, hiking the tundra, reading by the midnight light in log cabins, and visiting tiny old fishing, mining, and mountaineering villages.

One of the places I liked most is the town of Homer, an important Halibut fishing capital and a dynamic, creative hub on the edge of the Kenai peninsula.  I wish I could spend a whole summer there.

I’m so excited about the posts coming up in the next few weeks!  Here are a couple images of Homer’s Kachemak Bay to get started.



Lean, MoMA

While I stopped in the MoMA lobby to draw up plans for my visit to its galleries, I was caught by this image of a fellow visitor standing by the window, glancing between his museum floorplan and the view outside.  I love the shape of the man and the statue, each leaning in their different ways.