New York and Marcia Tucker

It's uncanny the way days and weeks go by. For me anyway, New York has a way of passing time. In what seems like an instant, it's the beginning of a new month. Another rent check is due, and my bangs need a trim.

This time-suck, New York, has consumed me for nine months. Months in a past life I surely would have shown more work, written countless blog posts for the weekly paper, and more likely than not, have a whole new catalog of summer festival photographs to boast about.

In this time I have managed to figure out that the L train goes through Manhattan, connecting me to every train I could desire. And eventually end up where ever I was going. But, I also learned to give myself an hour to do so. With this rule, I tend towards being very early, if not gracefully on time, every time.

Besides getting around the Island via subway, I have also become an adventurous cyclist. Seattle is nothing like riding in Brooklyn. Mostly because the streets in Seattle have very few gaping holes, taxi cabs, pedestrians, and of course cars in general.

So it took me nine months to learn how to exist in New York. I think I'm now getting a better hang of it.

I've spent the last couple weeks reading the memoir of Marcia Tucker: A Short Life Of Trouble; 40 years in New York's Art World. If there is anyone else who could possibly inspire me the way she has, I'd like to read about them. Marcia was a feminist, a curator, an entrepreneur, a Badass. Her story, from front to end, had me hanging on every word, turning pages wanting to know more. Sometimes, I could barely see the text through my tear-filled eyes...other times, I would let out a booming, gut-wrenching laughter.

I need Marcia's story. And I needed to find it right now...at this point in my life. Had I met Marcia Tucker's world any sooner, or later, I may have missed it's influence. The afternoon I completed the book, I was sitting in the lobby of the Ace Hotel, clutching a glass of white wine (that I of course spilled all over the book in a laughing fit). There was a handsome man sitting near me, I could feel his glance. We talked a little bit about the book.

Marcia created the New Museum of Contemporary Art. As we chatted, I told him I would visit the museum on my next free day. As the words left my mouth, I promised myself I would follow through with this plan. I went two days later with my friend Josh. It was GORGEOUS!

It's important to find passion in things and live it up, enjoy them...revel in the beauty of a powerful emotion. I admire Marcia Tucker because this is how she lived.

New York is my new home. I may still get lost from time to time, and lose track of weeks at a time, but it's so interesting and full of life. I'm excited to call it my home.