Jenny Lewis has dropped her trail mix. She’s standing in front of me at the Whole Foods 365 in Silver Lake, wearing a wide-brimmed rodeo hat, bell bottoms, and a rusty red-colored suede jacket with arm fringe that runs all the way down to her thigh. I cannot see her face, but I am well aware that it is indeed Jenny Lewis....
Moonee lives with her mother—the marvelously mouthy, blunt-smoking, middle-finger-wielding, heavily tattooed and seafoam-green-haired Halley. They share a room in a three-storied, resplendently lilac-colored Orlando motel called “The Magic Castle—” desperately conveying its closeness to Disney World’s Magic Kingdom....
My hometown was built on top of a graveyard for horses—at least that’s what Megan Martin’s parents told her and she, in turn, told us. Even if it wasn’t true, it kept our imaginations alight at the prospect of what lay beneath the split-levels and strip malls. For awhile, the closest thing to majesty remained underground, and we weren’t even sure of its existence....
Self Help Graphics spokesperson, Jennifer Cuevas, and associate director, Betty Avila, ahead of the East L.A. art center’s VIP opening for their PST-affiliated show: Día De Los Muertos: A Cultural Legacy, Past, Present and Future.
...
Leah is an arts and culture writer, cat mother and native Philadelphian. Most recently, she was an assistant editor for an art market magazine in New York City. She specializes in writing about relationships between the arts and social movements. Her first major work of writing was an original poem her mom painted on her bedroom wall in the 5th grade. She's been a relentless wordsmith ever since.
