Another art writer once said to me: no one wants to be an art writer Megan. I laughed because for me it was true. Art writing has been an accidental vocation. I attended Elam School of Fine Arts and graduated in 1998 when I was in my early twenties. When […]
Essays
10 posts
The Sapling, May 29, 2018 ___ In the South Island, at the back of an old mineshaft is the entrance to the planet O. There are two ways to get there. You can be forced by a coil of venomous yellow smoke like Susan Ferris. Or if you are lucky, […]
Litro Magazine, 9 December 2017. _____ How to describe Skype’s aquatic ring tone? That digital threshold of rising blips and sinking bloops. For some it is the sweet sound of being wanted. For others it is scary. For others still it sounds like an Owl City Song. For me, it can only […]
Booknotes 178, Summer 2013, p10-11 ____ Last night I dreamt about Dita Von Teese. I dreamt about her as a precursor to writing this piece about coffee table books. I’m sure Dita can’t quite imagine me here on the other side of the world dreaming about her for such pragmatic […]
___ My father’s toilet has always been a place of quiet. Mentally at least. The window is covered with a net curtain that the wind likes to tickle and tease. Down the brick driveway the sand gutters and runs in long sweeps. For a long time a list of talismans […]
1. ‘Femme Fatale, Megan speaking, how can I help?’ I sat at reception feeling like a teller at a bank. Outside, the neon sign winked on and off in the window of the ranch slider: Erotic Massage. A male voice through the creamy holes of the receiver, ‘do you have […]
Hey Cookie, how’s it going? You’ve been dead 24 years. I think you’d be happy to know that there are new drugs on the market and people who are HIV positive now have a chance at a long life. It’s all in the timing, Cookie. You, your husband, and your […]
The Lumiere Reader, September 10, 2012 ___ A female arm snakes above the stage sinewy as smoke, a lovely leg spikes and its reflection ripples the silver waters of the mirror below. With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride, you’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under. The mirror divides the stage like […]
I’ve Been to Me I have been places. Down the shops, to Europe, to New York long enough to get stoned and visit Williamsburg. I once saw Air Force One parked on the tarmac in Rome. This year I’ve managed Auckland, London, Norwich and Barcelona. (Sound the toot of […]
The Lumiere Reader, November 11, 2011 ___ What is Sweet Valley? — a mythical place, an American dream, an idea, an ideal, or just the caramel dip between Jessica Wakefield’s thighs? There was a time in my life when I read Sweet Valley High and I read it as much for […]