As I lay in a mess of empty cold medicine boxes and body-warmed blankets, I turned on my third movie of the day. I couldn’t do much else than watch Netflix. After crying through Toy Story 3 and being stunned by the performances in August: Osage County, I turned on the Princess of Wales biopic starring Naomi Watts. Diana was ok. It wasn’t a great film by any means, but something broke through my Nyquil-tinged haze and left its mark on me. During a scene while Diana and her lov

I was introduced to Mary Ruefle on a road trip to Bend, Oregon when I had a fiancé, a comfortable existence—domestic and unchallenging. It was the four of us: my partner D, my brother, my good friend Matt, and me. D was driving, and seated behind him was my brother deep in a Manga on an e- reader. I was in the front passenger seat reading a book about depression. Then from behind my left shoulder the words “Madness,” “Rack,” “and” “Honey” in thick black type on an eggshell pa

From sailor to mediocre actor, amateur painter to photographer ingénue, Eugène Atget is an example of failing at what you want until you succeed at what you love. Atget lived in a rapidly changing Paris. The city was modernizing and instead of fighting the inevitability of change, he did something bold. He used his talents to preserve the city he loved. His subject was France, but he focused his work on Parisian interiors, vehicles, and something he called petites métiers, or

This project was conceived on Park Avenue in front of the Portland Art Museum on a Sunday afternoon in July. Jenny and Phillip, post-grads and held in their adult lives, were enrolled in an art history class at the museum that day. It was gloriously bright. They had sunglasses on. They’re sunglasses-type people. Phillip lifted his shades and said, “I have a great idea.” Jenny tilted her aviators down and said, “Yeah?” And the rest, as they say, is history. Phillip found that