When I was at home for thanksgiving, I was digging through some old pictures, and I ran into a picture of me from more than 20 years ago, in the departure lounge at Philadelphia International Airport, heading off to Heathrow for the first time on my own. I was embarking upon my first great flight into my future, moving to London, full of determination to ‘make it’ in the art world; full of bravado and moxie. These shots of my brother and I goofing around don’t show anything of what happened moments later, which I recall like it was yesterday:

Read More

Ceci n’est pas une professeur de yoga.

I can remember sitting in Amy Ippoliti‘s class at Crunch Gym, on Lafayette Street, in New York in 2000. She was brightly sharing her capacious know-how with a room-full of amazed gym goers, who were, like me, surprised and delighted by the depth of what she was sharing – and the ease of her presence – and the general hilarity of the atmosphere. I remember the kindling of the desire, even then – to teach yoga.

Which I poo-pooed, of course.

Read More