Pop the damn champagne.

Last Christmas I was sent home from a party with a bottle of champagne. I decided not to open it until I had something very special to celebrate. Soon after I began preparing my application for an art residency and planned to save the bottle popping until I got into the program (a bold statement, indeed). I placed it lovingly on the bottom shelf of my fridge and eagerly awaited the email: “We are thrilled to offer you a spot in this year’s program!” ...

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Remember why.

Almost every time I'm out in the mountains there is a moment of pain or exhaustion when I ask, "Why?".

Sometimes I even say, "I'm never doing this again" or "I'm never going back there". 

Yet every time, without fail, my body recovers and I find myself yearning for it all once again. And I remember why...

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The life of an artist.

There is a whole part to being an artist that we don’t talk about much. The feeling, the opening, the brutal joy and pain behind the colors, the lines, the strokes. A creative life is just as much about feeling as it is about making...

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A land you learn to love slowly.
“It’s a land you learn to love very slowly.”

I jotted this quote from Francis Mallmann down one night while watching his episode of Chef’s Table (for, like, the 20th time).

..a land you learn to love slowly.

I paused the show and let the words sink in. They felt like warm vanilla. Comforting and familiar, yet something I've yet to experience during my 27 years on this earth...

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All things van life Q+A

Over the past year you've asked some great questions on everything from where to park, to working while traveling, to what it's like being a solo woman on the road, so I've put some of my answers in one handy place for you...

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This is for you when it's 1 a.m. & you’re in crisis mode.

Last night a good friend video called me from New Zealand. It was 9:30 p.m. in Denver, 5:30 p.m. in Wellington. I sat in bed under a thick down comforter with a cup of tea, while she was still wearing a striped summery top after just getting off work. Her hair was much longer than last time we Skyped — almost seven months ago — but the conversation picked up like we’d seen each other yesterday, as it always does...

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Happy birthday, #atwildwoman. Here are 24 things she's taught me.

Exactly one year ago I rode my awkward old Raleigh two-speed bike to the Wellington Library. Despite it almost being summer, the capital was cold and windy, and I ordered a flat white while staying bundled in my big down jacket and scarf.

I sat at a table in the library cafe and pulled out a drawing pad. I had no idea what I was doing — just playing around with pen and paper, like usual — and sketched the first-ever #atwildwoman...

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My mom’s advice on playing big.

When I first started scoping out places to live this winter, a friend introduced me to someone in Denver looking for a housemate. I met him and visited the house one sunny afternoon. It was cute, surrounded by trees, and in an awesome spot with a garage out back for doing art. I knew it was right...

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She chooses to be here.

It's midnight and am sitting on an air mattress with my new pup, Dewey, asleep by my side. After six months of driving, analyzing, planning, reanalyzing, and Craigslist-ing.. I'm finally sliding under a big down comforter in a house with a deep sigh of relief. You can stop running. You can rest...

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