While on a roadtrip across Colorado, my boyfriend and I stayed at “The Gold Miner’s Inn.” Over a breakfast of eggs, bacon, and cups of tang, she told us about the hotel, which she had moved into decades ago, to house archives for the National Archives- and about running a hotel during the pandemic - along with her disdain for Trump, the Democrats, and “transients” in these small mountain towns.

In Mexico City, I found a beautiful book of photographs by José Joaquín Blanco from the 1910s-1950s, and couldn’t stop sketching them; a man fighting a bear, a woman cutting a man’s hair, a man selling beer- these are slivers of those.

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A sketch of the faces of a couple I saw, sitting at their stand selling textiles in Bosque de Chapultepec in Mexico City, splashing in some symbols and plants from the scene around them, in watercolor.

A sketch of an amazing teacher of a capoeira class I took while in Salvador, Brazil, Mestre Lene. She taught with an intense seriousness, and had such pride in her school and her own practice, which requires so much dedication and strength. I loved the smooth serenity in her face, and the strength and will in her eyes.

A sketch of a neighbor, from a photo of him sitting on his stoop, in Ridgewood, Queens.

A sketch of my brother, Asa, smiling back at me at the Coney Island mermaid parade, wearing an amazing shirt he hand-painted, and lots of blue glitter.

Another neighbor in Ridgewood. He was wearing a red and blue checkered shirt, so I decided to play with those colors pouring from outside of him.

My boyfriend, Alex, his head flat against a pillow.

During the pandemic, I devoured documentaries and shows that felt like portraits themselves. And without going on the subway, or seeing new faces in person, sketching faces and figures on screen that struck me - because of their stories, or simply the beauty of them on screen- became my new way of drawing. Below are just a few. I hope to include more, with thoughts on the films & shows that have captivated and changed me.

A sketch of Ruth from an episode of Taste the Nation, devoted to the stories behind the foods enjoyed during Chanukah. Ruth, a holocaust survivor, spoke movingly about how she sees history repeating itself.

Some Kind of Heaven was a documentary that haunted me, and I felt compelled to draw while watching- a surreal, intimate, visual feast, following residents living in The Villages, Florida’s largest retirement community. The documentary was in some ways a series of beautiful, extremely up-close strange portraits, within a dreamy and dystopian world.

A painted sketch of a photo of Frida Kahlo that I saw of her in her home in Mexico City. She looked sly, mysterious, all-knowing.

Having color drip from her felt right, as her work, and being in her home, has always opened my eyes to the big color and beauty and nature one can have in their life.

A sketch of a photo of Frida in her bed, which I keep next to mine, which reassures me, especially these past years, and as someone who experiences chronic pain, what art and beauty can be made amidst and even created by, pain and loss and bedroom-bound times.

Poet Ezra Pound, from a photo I saw of him at the Foam museum in Amsterdam.

A quick sketch of Alice Neel, the ultimate portraitist (which doesn’t look like her) - from a photo, sitting casually and looking directly, as her subjects often did, in her portraits.

I loved how she looked candid, confident, soft, and strong, all at once.