myrmidons & maenads

I’ve been fascinated by Francesca Woodman lately. I sort of want to be her, minus the existential depression and early death. (But if depression and death are the price for creating work like this…I might pay it.) This is my (amateur, digital) tribute to her short career.

mother said straight ahead

I borrowed my mom’s vintage cape and got to channel my favorite musical. Despite my lofty aspirations, I am far more Little Red than the Witch. It’s always weird when your mental image of yourself fails to align with reality. In my head I’m slinky and sinister and throaty-voiced; in real life I’m stocky and…

patchwork imp

Jumping on my own “masked creatures in the woods” bandwagon. I could get used to this. Dress: vintage, via Rusty Zipper Cape: from a friend Mask: Earthbound Trading Everything else: thrifted

ride with the moon in the dead of night

I’m halfway done with shows, and I’ve had five precious days off! We start our second run tomorrow night, but I’m at least sort of rested this time. And I was free enough to have a photo day with Holly this past Sunday. Did you know that Ethan Allen is buried less than a mile…


It’s Latin for “sorceress”. One day I’ll tattoo it on my right arm, my wand arm, and look down at it and smile. …and one more, because I fell into the river while taking these and the camera went off at the exact right moment:  

the witch & the sprite: madonna edition

I really love Madonna themes. The iconography is so lush, so blatantly defiant of the Second Commandment, that it’s easy to see the pagan roots of Abrahamic traditions. The Blessed Virgin is just another permutation of female divinity. She’s Baubo and Oshun and Persephone and the Morrigan alike. This, right here, is why I’m a…

the witch & the sprite, part ii: polka dots & trilliums

The second batch from my recent shoot with Holly. I like having friends who are dark where I am light. I am more a fairy, swathed in silks and gleeful scandal, than a witch. I need more trenchant forces to balance me.  

the witch & the sprite, part i

My favorite thing about photography, I think, is making people look exactly the way they see themselves. Seeing them smile as their private fancies bleed into real-life color. My lady Holly, for instance, is a lab tech by day – read: not allowed to wear harem pants or flowy scarves or anything that might catch…

three years: part II

It’s my anniversary. I get to be overtly narcissistic, okay? I came to blogging for the style and stayed for the photography. My earliest photos were almost unconscionably shitty; I look at them now and can’t believe I put them on the internet under my real name. Learning my way around my camera and cultivating…


Holly and I are kittening at the Vermont Burlesque Festival in T minus two days. Eep! We get red carpet photos and invitations to the performers’ brunch, which makes me die a little – I get to munch waffles and mimosas with real live performers? People who do this for a living, not a lark?…

mori girl

I am lashed to a gypsy boy by one colossal sky. when this universe shrinks to a cage, I’ll remember that his eyes were black holes; dripping, magnetic wounds; and through them we could probably tunnel our way free. I will miss you, gypsy brother, in the not-so-far-off fore when your pain is no longer…

into the woods (for real this time)

My last post of 2014: stomping once again on the old grounds and clashing patterns a la Amy Flying a Kite. I am burrowing beneath the skin of the forest, but I promise to see you on the other side.