Kiki Smith

at the de Young. So delightful. 

Also, some of my favorite things at the de Young are the strange views.


Just moving spaces around.

I go out walking

On the 33 bus from the Mission to the Haight, I looked to my right and saw a hill, somewhat craggy, with people and dogs on top. I thought, I don't know where that is; a rare experience for me after six years in the city. A quick map consultation suggested that this was Corona Heights. I couldn't remember having heard of Corona Heights. On a sunny day, I decided to walk there.

That's it, that hill far away.

I took that narrow stairway to get there, which made me feel clever and sneaky.

At the top of the hill, there's this: (forgive us if you can, this is San Francisco, now).

And then, of course, you turn

and look out.

oh scone, oh scone

Let me tell you about this scone. 

Actually, to begin my life with the beginning of my life, let me tell you about my relationship with scones. I definitely ate scones growing up. Those dry, crumbly triangular things you can find at most cafes. They didn't tend to taste like much and they usually had cranberries in them. The first time I had a life-changing scone experience (understatement is for other people) was in Kraków, Poland. I was at a little potluck party, and a Scottish fellow brought scones he'd made and, significantly, clotted cream. Spare a moment, if you can, to pity the poor me who, until the wise age of twenty-three, had never known the joys of clotted cream. What is this? I remember asking. And then eating. A lot. From that day forward, I had a different idea about scones. The scones, as I recall, were less dry, less tired-seeming than the scones to which I'd been accustomed. But it was the addition of clotted cream that did me in.

Picture me now, cozy in San Francisco, coming home from a late Saturday morning run to find two trays of scones being pulled from the oven. My housemate Tim has recently taken up baking (as if he needed to be more charming), much to everyone's delight. So there they were, these scones. Tim made them from the Cheeseboard cookbook. They have lots of things in them, including blueberries, buttermilk, and heavy cream. And pure joy. These are the best scones I have ever had. In my life. I don't know how to tell you this. They were so good, I not only didn't want clotted cream, I didn't add butter. I can think of no higher praise.

representing it visually

At a recent party at my house, I overheard two people, who hadn't known one another previously, begin an animated conversation over their shared enthusiasm for carpentry and table-making. There were so many people who didn't know each other. I am always wanting to introduce people and particularly those with overlapping areas of interest. I began a kind of Venn diagram on the chalk board in my kitchen of people and the things they liked, experiences they'd had, qualities they possessed. Then I let everyone else take it over. (pictured here) 

I would not describe this as a functional image, necessarily. No doubt there are far more elegant and scannable ways of displaying the same content visually. But it was a lot of fun to make and to puzzle out later. I've dubbed it a disinformation graphic, which is amusing but not quite apt. Perhaps a hermeneutic circle of a party? I'll accept suggestions.