If you’re reading this, then big mazel! You made it through the past 80 days of January 2026! 

Last week reminded me that art can be a balm in times like these. I am privileged to live in a city with some of the greatest museums in the world. However, I am ashamed to say, I rarely visit them these days. Either my schedule doesn’t seem to mesh with museum hours or I avoid going when I know the crowds will be at their peak. To me, fighting for a sightline to view something framed on a wall is worse than not seeing it at all. 

I need space. 

These past few weeks have been a lot on a personal front but also because I live in the United States in its Reich Stuff cosplay era and care what happens to people. Being the only child, show-must-go-on personality that I am, I spent most of the past few weeks swimming upstream with a bad back. I’m putting my head down, but breathing the air, occasionally still reporting on what things they can eat and drink if they can even afford them. But hey. It’s out there in case things change, right? Or do we just take what we can get right now? I don’t know. 

Anyway, by last Wednesday I knew I needed to give myself a break. So despite it being nearly as cold as outer space and the very real threat of wiping out on the permafrost that had mostly still not been cleared from NYC streets from last weekend’s storm, I took some Motrin for my herniated spine and kept a reservation to go on an after hours tour of the Ruth Asawa exhibit at MoMA with members of the Lotos Club. 

For those unfamiliar, Awawa (1926-2013) was a Japanese American artist with an astounding body of work created between the 1940s and early 2000s. Born in California, she spent her teen years in an internment camp, and once released from confinement, devoted the rest of her life to rendering themes of movement and dance through countless paintings, sculpture, lithography, line drawings, and jewelry. 

Though she studied art at Black Mountain College, much of her technique was original. Intricate hanging wire mesh sculptures made her famous, but the exhibit also contains the through lines to her evolving aesthetics—the compact, mosaic-like abstract watercolors; the ceramic masks of family and friends she coaxed into sitting for a casting; photos, proposals and notes from her various mentorships at art colleges; all the various ways she opened her world to interlocking planes of motion and innovation, all while facing down Asian American racism. 

MoMA curator Cara Manes led the team bringing this exhibit to life over the course of several years, having been a massive Asawa fan, then getting to work closely with her family for the retrospective. Mane gave the tour to some 20 or so of us, who got to wander the airy galleries after the selfie-stick crowds had left. I resisted the urge to briefly break away, spin, and yell “Wheeeeeee!!!” in one of the rooms while the rest of the group was listening to Mane’s thoughtful lecture. 

Space. Movement. Creativity. Resolve. In these past couple of years I’d forgotten about those things until I received an infusion of it.

The exhibit ends this coming Saturday, February 7th. I highly recommend checking it out if you can swing it. 

On Friday, the day of the general strike, my friend Colleen Newvine Tebeau, who is a writer and life coach, posted a reel on Instagram about self care. She discusses how many of us have been locked in fight or flight survival mode indefinitely, and the effect that can have on the body and mind. How can you show up to be a helper—especially AGAIN—when you’re burning out?

She reminded us that Friday was not only a good opportunity to join displays of solidarity and resistance, but also to regenerate if that seemed expending too much energy. Sometimes it’s not always about flooding representatives’ switchboards and email boxes, or painting and foisting clever signs. It’s important to consider ways to reset for the coming months, plan on which businesses to support, take time outs from doom scrolling to nurture the mind and body with fun activities—music, art, food, movies, transportive literature, cuddling pets, laughing on the phone with a good friend, etc. And to move our bodies. 

If you’re too blown out to do that, then the fascists win. 

I’m going to do something new at the end of each newsletter, starting with this one. First, I ask what you’ve been doing to reset your mind in the chaos? Did you read a book that pulls you away from work or study? Did you venture out for a walk in a new direction? Try a new restaurant or visit an old standby? Call someone you haven’t spoken to in a while? Please tell me in the comments. Maybe if you’ve been receiving these newsletters, particularly if you’re a subscriber (thank you!) who hasn’t introduced yourself before, these are good moments to do so.

(Btw if you are uncomfortable posting on the public page, you can simply reply to this email.)

Also, I will be telling you about my lipstick of the week. Why? Because for me, wearing lipstick and displays of self-identity is as much a part of showing up for the revolution as continuing to write about yummy things to eat and drink.

This was a Revlon Cherries in the Snow week for sure. I wanted something bright and classic that lights up my complexion in blustery conditions, and also lasts through the elements. This berry-red shade premiered in 1953 and has stuck around for good reason: it’s highly pigmented and compliments a variety of skin tones from fair to dark. A friend who works in costume design recently shared that it’s a perennial favorite of a theatrical makeup artist colleague because it looks amazing from a distance and can easily be replenished for $9 or less from a drug store on the fly. The series The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel had a massive costume budget, but over all the options, this was the tone of choice for Midge. 

The formula has evolved to be even more matte lately, leaving a base layer that deceptively appears to stay on even after eating and drinking. The evening of the Asawa exhibit I received several separate compliments on the shade, with questions about how it stayed on. 

The secret is it didn’t, and I didn’t even go to great lengths to prep and prime my lips before applying. It’s just such an intensely pigmented tone that it looks like it’s always been there. 

Cheers, all. Be kind to one another and stay warm!

--A

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