“I can’t believe you would write about something like that,” my sister said. She had called our house, it was pure luck that my mother happened to be out.
FICTION
FICTION
“I can’t believe you would write about something like that,” my sister said. She had called our house, it was pure luck that my mother happened to be out.
WIT TEA
My installations aren’t like your little illustrations!
Q&A
"...Often the draft has its own energy and then we almost kill it. We refine something down to death."
INSIGHT
Dillard asks, which of you want to give your lives and be writers?
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
I felt like it was my duty to uncover these stories — in a way I had to move through them, making paintings inspired by them and I even made a short film about this familial excavation with a wonderful group of female collaborators.
Who were we as an adult couple, not just two college kids sleeping on each other’s hand-me-down mattresses?
Purple: The color of longing, of the blood in your veins that your heart is pumping, butterflies and all.