February's Letter
"The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light." -James Baldwin
Hello Again,
I hope that this letter finds you focused and fulfilled as we close out February and step into March. This month has not been without its complications but, for me, it’s mostly been a month of softness, travel, friendship, revitalization, and thankfully, work.
I was very fortunate to photograph one of my favorite rappers (top five), Westside Boogie, for Huffington Post. I am forever indebted to Christy Havranek who took a chance on this story and accepted my pitch. I’ve been pitching stories on Boogie since 2018. I pitched him so often that I started building genuine relationships with his producers and we’ve become close friends. I’ve loved this man and his music for so long but more than that, the public tenderness that he shows his son, Darius, has been healing for me. Finally getting the opportunity to give him his flowers was important for me. I’m hearing that Boogie was especially “proud” of the images of him and Darius. I’m grateful to Lena and Dart. I owe so much to Clark and Jesse (H1 and H2) for making this experience and my time in LA so special.
I had the pleasure of linking up with Kelela again, this time getting her in front of my camera for The New York Times. I love the photos from this shoot so much and as always, I loved working with my assistant/mentee Joel on this.
I enjoyed sitting at the piano with the lovely Jason Moran in his gorgeous Harlem apartment for The New York Times. I was honored to photograph the first Black woman to have a nationally syndicated comic, Barbara Brandon-Croft, for The Washington Post. I was also over the moon to finally get my hands on the latest issue of WSJ featuring my portraits of Sarah Sze ahead of her big show at The Guggenheim. Sarah offered me such beautiful language to describe my work, referring to it as non-hierarchical. I’ll always cherish that bit of language.
I spent a week in the Poconos with my good friend, Shanita, writing and working on a book outline for an essay collection that I’m writing. During that time I also met with a pair of editors from a literary press that I admire to talk about my essays. It was affirming to speak with folks who are deeply embedded in that world and to witness their enthusiasm around my literary work. When I wasn’t working on writing, I spent most my days luxuriously indolent. I napped, relaxed, and caught up with myself.
Last week, the gays and I went out to a fantastic dinner at my new favorite restaurant, Tartina. We ate a delicious meal, laughed loudly, sauntered down the street to Dive Bar and shut it down singing Mariah, Janet, SZA, Beyonce, Nicki, and Britney from the Jukebox. It was one of those New York nights that I’ll always cherish, the jocular kind that leaves you vibrating with excitement and gratitude for being here and being alive.
Reading, Watching, & Listening…
I discovered the writing of Aisha Sabatini Sloan and really enjoyed these two pieces by her. I especially loved the writing in the Yale Review piece about one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s homes and some of the technical qualities of Kerry James Marshall’s paintings. The writing was rich! One of my favorite offerings from the piece was, “What would it look like to write in such a way that the page takes on the surface of a mirror?”
I had an unusual experience while reading this newsletter by
about a small bookstore in East Stroudsburg that honors notable writers and thinkers by taping their obituaries to the walls and shelves around the store. As I opened the newsletter, I was sitting in the window of a Starbucks directly across the street from this very bookstore in East Stroudsburg. It was so random, so eerie. To make it even stranger, Aaron quoted me toward the end of the letter and I had no idea. It was so weird.Reading this I was floored by the fact that white people have managed to be racist, colorist, and segregationist against the damn BEES down in Austria. I screamed “fuck yes” 300 times reading this piece about my favorite band, Paramore and their new album (which I still haven’t been able to sit with). I was saddened by this story about yet another Black artist dying to soon, without any support, after giving so much of himself to his field.
I laughed myself into a coughing fit at the title of this New Yorker piece calling Stephen Shore, “America’s Most Cherished Photographer” when Joseph Rodriguez, Dawoud Bey, Eli Reed, Ming Smith, Ruven Afandor, Jim Goldberg, Nan Goldin and so many others still walk this earth. A bit ham-fisted and foolish if you ask me. Cool interview though.
I rolled my eyes at this piece about Rihanna and, as always, the lack of criticality from people engaging her decision to perform at the Superbowl after initially, “shutting them down” during Colin Kaepernick’s protest of the NFL.
As well, Riri’s Superbowl performance gave nap time.
I was so pleasantly surprised by this cover story on SZA for The New York Times Magazine. I thought Danyel's writing was terrific. I was also a big fan of the thunderous writing in this piece about a man who survived both attacks on the Twin Towers.
I really enjoyed this quick profile on my thick husband, Jonathan Majors. I had no idea that he was a poet and his fandom of Mary Oliver made me smile. His mother selling plasma so that he could attend an acting program made me sigh an old, anguished sigh.
I could not catch my breath after seeing Michael Keaton suit up again as Batman in the trailer for the new Flash film, though I’m torn and mostly challenged by DC’S desire to press on with the release of the film after Ezra Miller racked up so many accusations of predatory abuse. Capitalism persists.
I was moved by this short film by The New Yorker about the so called, “Crimes Against Nature” laws in NOLA. I hadn’t heard of this law but it was unsurprising to learn about the transphobic specifics and the long and lasting impact of this law’s violence.
I have been LOVING every episode of The Last of Us. Wonderful acting by everyone that they bring onto the show. Excellent casting. Episode five was too much, it ripped me apart. I finished Fleishman is in Trouble but don’t have much to say about it. I enjoyed the first few episodes of Poker Face but the plot became so formulaic and redundant that I gave up. Abbott Elementary slays me every week. This last episode was especially funny (“gee golly it sure does” absolutely sent me. I’m SO tired of Ava but have been informed that… I am Ava).
SNOWFALL IS BACK!!! Fine ass Damson Idris with that beautiful smile and unpredictable accent!!! Such entertaining performances, I’m nervous to see how it all ends.
I loved the Richard Avedon MURALS exhibition at The Met and going with my dearest friend, Joe Pug, (an OG Avedon stan) was a treat. Thinking of Avedon printing, well… having his work printed, at this scale is kind of insane. The factory portraits are wild (flaccid white dicks as big as your head).
Ab-Soul’s tiny desk was superb. I feel his music and his struggles so deeply. He’s a powerful performer. I loved how casually brilliant Julie Dash was in this video for Vogue speaking about Daughter’s of The Dust. I was inspired hearing her speak about working with Kerry James Marshall and Arthur Jafa in such a richly collaborative way. I’m willing more collaboration into my creative practices, in ways that stretch me.
Musically, it’s mostly been Mariah and SZA. I’ve been replaying the Mariah Carey, I Still Believe Remix endlessly. I’ve also been obsessed with Azula by Joseph Chilliams, my homie from Pivot Gang. It’s such an emotionally lush song, makes me cry often and miss Amy Winehouse even more. I’ve also spent a lot of time listening to Skin Tight by Ravyn Lenae and Steve Lacy as well as Let My Baby Stay by Mac Demarco. It’s still sad girl season in this house.
My literary fav, Hilton Als, was on Talk Easy a bit ago. The episode really outdid itself. I loved Hilton’s dirty joke about wanting to be “inside” of Prince and I felt seen by how he proclaimed his desire for partnership.
The great Ada Limón was a guest on On Being recently, giving me chills as she read one of my favorite poems of hers, Before. It was earthshaking.
I wanted this month’s letter to be a bit lighter in tone, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge the loss of a great man, Marshall “Eddie” Conway, a man that I admired tremendously and whose death has deeply effected me.
Mr. Conway, or Eddie, as many in the community lovingly called him, was a life inspiration. An ex-Black Panther from Baltimore who spent nearly 45 years as a political prisoner, wrongfully imprisoned for the murder of a police officer and the attempted murder of another in the 1970’s. What I know about Eddie is that he dedicated his full life to our liberation. His cri de coeur was healing, educating, and empowering Black people. I was still living in Baltimore the day that he was released from prison and I had never seen that kind of communal reverie and community embrace.
I’ve been sitting with so many feelings surrounding this loss. I’m impressed by the thought of a person dedicating their life to fighting white supremacy in the ways that they can. I’m devastated at the thought of them dying and white supremacy remaining unbruised, unbroken, and just as violent, persistent, and insatiable as ever before. I know that this framing is a bit pessimistic. I know that spending too much time in this thought could invalidate the pursuit of liberation, the pursuit of the unreachable thing. I also acknowledge the quiet work, the grassroots, community building work that leaders in the community do that impacts people daily in ways unknown. I just wish that this world would have moved a little more for Eddie the way that I wish it had moved for so many of our ancestors.
I’m grateful for his service, his example, and that even for a moment, I was bathed in his warm, all-consuming light. In 2016, I made the above portrait of Eddie from an honorific place and he loved it, his family and friends loved it. I was deeply honored that this image was used on his obituary to honor the very magnitude of his life. A difficult gift to hold. We love you, Eddie. Rest well.
you are Ava
Fleischman In In Trouble was genius, and I won't debate!