A Greater Boston native, I'm a professional dancer and award-winning interdisciplinary artist with talents in choreography, filmmaking, art, and graphic design. I'm co-founder and artistic director of Luminarium Dance Company (Boston, MA), art director of Art New England magazine, senior contributor for The Arts Fuse, and am the Boston area dance critic for the international Fjord Review. I recently completed a one-year term as co-chair of the Arlington Cultural Council, and am regularly hired as an arts advocate to speak at events ranging from legislative assemblies at the State House to entrepreneurial panels for students at Mount Holyoke College. This blog serves as a behind-the-scenes peek into the life and journal of an interdisciplinary artist. Learn more at merliguerra.com or luminariumdance.org, and thank you for reading my thoughts on setting the visual and performing arts into motion.

Friday, May 18, 2018

Top 10 Professional & Personal Highlights of 2017

2017 will forever be a year for the books.

I wish I could write that one sentence and call this annual entry complete, but I promised myself a while back to always take a moment at the start of each January to reflect on the year before—specifically, to document my top ten professional accomplishments—in an effort to remind myself that, Yes, I really did make progress in my career!

Yet 2017 was a little different, and for that reason, my top ten list is going to reflect this difference by encapsulating not only professional accomplishments and milestones, but personal ones as well.

Merli V. Guerra's art installation, Pieces, on view at We Create, 2017.


Stepping into 2017, I was already knee-deep in my We Create project, having begun my work as one of its 2016-17 cohort artists in September. Through April, I continued to research and develop my initial concept: delving into the cohort’s 2016-17 theme of “hidden stories” by creating an art installation recognizing those with physical and mental disabilities. As my work unfolded, I found myself narrowing in on the specific story of my Noni’s struggle with Alzheimer’s, and society’s habit of tucking Alzheimer’s patients away—glancing by them only on the surface, unaware of the beautiful, multifaceted lives hidden within. Although I ultimately found the We Create cohort to be largely flawed in its execution, the piece I created through this process turned out to be quite poignant in more ways than one. Find out why by reading my post “Pieces: The Making of and Disregard for.”

2. PROFESSIONAL: 2 New Commissions—Devil's Turn & Rosoff Awards

In past years, Spring has been a quieter time for Luminarium, which allows Kim and me an opportunity to use our Winter rehearsals in a gradual, constructively explorative way. Yet this season, similar to 2016, we found ourselves with a wild January through May as we prepared for back-to-back commissions, a weeklong residency at the Fuller Craft Museum, and invitational showings in NYC and Endicott College.

Our first set of commissions for the year was the long-awaited result of a collaboration with Boston New Music Initiative. Kim and I were each given a selection of contemporary orchestral works from around the world, and I quickly fell in love with John Allemeier’s The Devil’s Turn—inspired by the quick-tempoed fiddle reel of the same name. Incorporating fleeting moments of folk dance and paralleling the string quartet with a quartet of dancers, the new work debuted to an enthusiastic audience at BNMI’s Ars Nexa Tempora at the Center for Arts at the Armory in Somerville, MA, in April.

The second commission was a choreographic collaboration between Kim, myself, and the The Ad Club, who approached us to create a new to open the prestigious 2017 Rosoff Awards at the State Room in Boston, MA. The new quintet celebrated diversity, individuality, and the power of rising as a unified society.

Jess Chang performs Merli V. Guerra's Untitled Breathing Installation #2: Glass. 

3. PROFESSIONAL: Kinetic Craft

For my 2017 Cultural Community Outreach Project (the 6th project in this annual series), I successfully created a residency for Luminarium Dance Company at the Fuller Craft Museum in Brockton, MA, for the entire week of April school vacation. Every day from 10am to 5pm, Tuesday, April 18 through Sunday, April 23, 2017, five company members performed throughout the museum, personifying each of the museum's five crafting elements in my project Kinetic Craft.

Over the course of four months, I painstakingly constructed a series of “breathing installations”—a concept I first developed back in 2011 with my fabric installation for Luminarium's residency at the Boston Center for the Arts’ Movement at the Mills—this time highlighting four of the five crafting elements (Textiles, Wood, Glass, and Metal), while Kim tackled the fifth (Ceramics). Serving 471 visitors and featuring 12 company members and guest performers, Kinetic Craft successfully interwove movement with craft. For a more thorough synopsis with photos, videos, and testimonials, read my post “Kinetic Craft Residency in Review.”

4. PERSONAL: A Tale of Two Cities

In June, Sean and I relocated our lives to Princeton, NJ, for a job offer Sean couldn’t refuse. I don’t often speak about my personal life beyond the arts on this online journal (an intentional omission), but as I mentioned at the start of this post, 2017 marked many milestones in my personal life that merit public sharing. If I’ve never said it on here before, I regularly recognize how fortunate I am to have such an incredible partner. Yes, Kim is amazing, but this time I do mean my romantic partner. Sean is one of the single hardest working minds I know—and that’s coming from someone whose brain is constantly running! He approaches his work with a level of thoughtfulness, interest, and independence that cannot help but reveal results. As much as it saddened me to see the writing on the wall back in 2016 when he accepted a summer internship with Bristol Myers Squibb in New Jersey, I was also overjoyed to witness him working for a company that both pushed him and, at the same time, saw in him what I do. It came as a shock to my ever-under-estimating then fiancé (and as no surprise to anyone else in his life) when he was offered a rotational position with the company to begin in 2017. The work he has done since our move—and will no doubt continue to do—is astounding.

Luckily, New Jersey is a mere 6-hour drive from Boston, so my work in Massachusetts in most ways hasn't skipped a beat. As I settle into a groove of commuting back and forth for events (be it my own, or those I'm reviewing and supporting), I am confident that this relocation will proffer opportunities to further grow in my field. Already, I have met inspiring artists hailing from NYC, Philly, and the Garden State, with whom I hope to collaborate.

From a family perspective, the pace here is far slower than in Boston. It feels as though time can finally be given to long walks with my other half in the myriad of wooded parks peppering Pennsylvania and Central New Jersey, and our neighborhood is warm and welcoming (it took a while to get used to people saying "hello" to me on the street and not wanting anything in return!). Truly, there is beauty here in its more relaxed approach to life, and I look forward to our adventure unfolding as I balance my own Tale of Two Cities between Boston and Princeton.

Photos: Somerby Jones.

5. PERSONAL: Married

It's official! On August 12, 2017, Sean and I made a commitment to keep this party going all life long. Read my thoughts on the wedding (and my thwarted attempt to elope) in my post "Sorry, Sean. You're stuck with me."

6. PERSONAL: Puppy Parenthood

As Sean and I discussed the challenges and benefits of relocating, one benefit became excitingly clear: A move to New Jersey meant we would finally have space for a dog! No more cramped apartments with zero backyards; we would finally be able to bring a pup into our lives. A mere five days after our wedding, we traveled five hours to Virginia to pick up Banksy (yes, named after the elusive graffiti artist), our adorable little Goldendoodle. It’s been a nonstop rollercoaster of emotions ever since—from affection to frustration, amusement to worry—and while her name has grown to “Banksy Nala Piranha-Puppy Guerra” (or simply “Banksy Connolly” when she’s quietly behaving), this unpredictable ball of fluff has wriggled her way into our hearts for good. You can follow Banksy on Instagram @banksysighting for daily updates on her shenanigans.

Photo: Brian Bolanowski.

7. PROFESSIONAL: Outlet Dance Project

Luminarium made its New Jersey debut this fall at the impressive Grounds For Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ. I felt honored to be selected as one of the choreographers creating new work for The Outlet Dance Project, as it meant my own New Jersey artistic debut as well. Performed by Kim and myself, Weathered was created in relation to Linda Cunningham's striking bronze sculpture War Memorial III. This towering duet used 1970s CBS Vietnam newscasts as a sound score—at times, standing tall as the heroes of war, and at others, becoming engulfed by the darkness as were the civilian and military victims of battle. I described the impetus behind the new work in my application proposal:

“As a choreographer and visual artist, I often find my work revolves around the concept of the present intermingling with the past. Be it facing a past iteration of one’s self, or connecting with those who came before us, my work has been described as “haunting,” and “cyclical.” So, too, do I feel this when witnessing Linda Cunningham’s War Memorial III, whose abstracted towers of bronze strike the eye as both piercing upward through the ground while simultaneously melting back to whence they came. Researching the installation further, I find this duality of rising and falling to be beautifully metaphoric—from standing tall as veterans to withering and being forgotten, this “war memorial” begs to be set in motion.”

Performed on October 7, 2017, Weathered will hold a special place in my memory for years to come—in addition to marking my first Mid-Atlantic performance, it happened to fall on my 30th birthday! Not only that, but the sculpture itself was created in 1987, so it, too, was celebrating its 30th year on this earth. Call me sentimental, but there is something satisfyingly synchronous about marking that key milestone together (not to mention spending the day with poor Kim, who was sweating buckets under 40 yards of black satin in the 90 degree sun!).

8. PROFESSIONAL: Leaving Art New England

Relocating to New Jersey meant a shift in my work as a designer as well. In October 2017, I officially resigned from my role as Art Director of Art New England magazine. During my five-year tenure at ANE, I oversaw the magazine’s growth from 60 to 120 pages, bi-monthly; designed its feature, column, and review layouts; and mocked up a total of roughly 1,500 covers (only 28 of which ever made it to fruition). Nothing quite compares to holding the physical manifestation of a project in my own two hands—thumbing through its pages, and marveling at the cover’s fully-realized design. Equally engaging are feature layouts, which have proffered me the most room for creativity—from discussing the piece as a whole with the editor to enhancing the writer’s words through imagery. As I move on, I’m grateful for the friendships I’ve made while holding this position, and for the breadth of artists I’ve had the pleasure of working with and promoting nationally.

9. PROFESSIONAL: Dance International

In the fall, I was proud to add another publication to my list of freelance dance critic assignments: Dance International magazine. My first review for this Canadian-based print publication is set to appear in the February issue, and I’m grateful to its Editor Kaija Pepper for helping me adjust to the magazine’s writing style. Keep your eyes peeled for a piece on Boston Ballet’s Obsidian Tear, with works by Jorma Elo and Wayne McGregor.

10. PROFESSIONAL: Moderated 100 Years of Modern Dance

At this stage in my career, I’ve spoken on a variety of panels covering the topics of entrepreneurship, choreography, arts funding, and legislation, to name a few. I ended 2017 with a new panel experience: as moderator. I was delighted when Kathy Hassinger, Artistic Director of Dance Currents, Inc., invited me to moderate her post-performance panel for 100 Years of Modern Dance at Green Street Studios in Cambridge, MA. In November, I had the honor of guiding a dialogue between local dance mavens Marcus Schulkind, Margot Parsons, Joanie Block, Ali Smith, Samantha Govoni, and Whitney Cover to an engaged audience who commented they wished the conversation could have gone on much longer! The event was a wonderful end to the year, and pushed me to participate in panels in a new capacity, while trying my best to employ my Libra balancing skills.

Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Kinetic Craft Residency in Review

For my 2017 Cultural Community Outreach Project (the 6th project in this annual series), I successfully created a residency for Luminarium at the Fuller Craft Museum in Brockton for the entire week of April school vacation. Every day from 10am to 5pm, Tuesday, April 18 through Sunday, April 23, 2017, five company members performed throughout the museum, personifying each of the museum's five crafting elements in a project we titled Kinetic Craft.

Over the course of four months, I painstakingly constructed a series of “breathing installations”—a concept I first developed back in 2011 with my fabric installation for Luminarium's residency at the Boston Center for the Arts’ Movement at the Mills—this time highlighting the five crafting elements: Textiles, Ceramics, Wood, Glass, and Metal.

The museum's 471 visitors that week perused the museum at their leisure as dancers from each installation performed and interacted with those passing by. Engaging for all ages, the event was free with museum admission, and garnered high praise from artists and participants alike. Luminarium received many lovely notes from those who attended saying that the week-long event "spoiled" them, and that it was the "best event that's ever come to the museum." To quote Titilayo Ngwenya, Director of Communications for the Fuller Craft Museum: "I wanted to congratulate you on a series of installations that not only captured the essence of the different craft media, but also engaged the audience with wonder and beautiful motion."

In addition to the hundreds of locals who attended, Luminarium was pleased to see many of its own followers wandering the museum—many of whom had never been, but commented on wanting to return. This was excellent feedback to receive, as one of Luminarium's goals of its annual Cultural Community Outreach Project is to introduce new patrons to the landmark it is honoring.

I'm especially grateful to the Brockton Cultural Council, whose grant helped make Kinetic Craft possible. It filled me with pride to be able to hire our network of company members and local performing artists at an hourly wage instead of a token stipend at the end of a long week. It allowed a total of 12 performers to sign up for as many shifts as they were able to take on, and by the end of the week, several of our company members were surprised to see how quickly their hours added up to a healthy paycheck! (A reality that in itself pains me—to see the surprise of fellow artists upon receiving fair compensation for the amount of work they put in. But that's a societal issue I'll address in a later post.) So thank you, BCC, for making this possible.

While Kim tackled the theme of Ceramics, I took on the other four. It's always an eerie moment to look back at my original notes and compare them to the end results—whether nearly identical from sketch to reality, or watching my thoughts morph and reshape themselves throughout the creative process. Below are my four breathing installations, then and now:

The goal was to create a full-bodied wind chime to highlight the resonant tones that metal can make. Our dancers would demonstrate the installation's ability to be played by any part of the body—foot, shoulder, knee, head—and encouraged visitors to set the metal bars into motion themselves. A hit with both young and old alike, the Metal Installation could be heard echoing through the halls of the museum, as engaged participants performed new melodies of their own.

Here, I chose to highlight wood's ability to be either strong and structural, or so thin and fragile that light can diffuse through it. The result was my trickiest installation to build: A large wooden structure supporting three semi-opaque walls of tissue paper, allowing the sunlight in the window to highlight the dancer's shadowy movements within. Being only semi-opaque, we quickly learned onsite that the performer needed to move closely along the paper walls, or else she'd disappear. This allowed for some interesting dialogue between performer and viewer, as those passing by were not always initially aware of her presence inside.

This installation morphed dramatically from its first concept to its final manifestation. Consistent throughout was my desire to capture glass's beautiful ability to melt, drip, liquify—and then to freeze in time. In the end, it wasn't a large, complex installation that needed to be built, but instead, simple and mobile. Inspired by my glass-blowing adventure with Kim, dancers were instructed to move with liquidity throughout the space while holding a white-hot glass orb. As they slowed to a static pose, they tapped the light attached to the orb I'd found—turning off the light and revealing its opaque opalescent swirls.

Kinetic Craft offered me the opportunity to restage Untitled Breathing Installation #1, originally created for Luminarium's Movement at the Mills performance for the Boston Center for the Arts. Over the course of the week, dancers crept in and out of their blanket fort, asking viewers to select their favorite fabric scraps, then sewing them artfully onto this once-white dress. By the end of the week, the dress had become a patchwork medley of colors and textures—paying homage to textiles' role to clothe us, whether out of fashion or necessity.

Please enjoy some footage of the week via Luminarium's promo video below:

And additional footage via the Fuller Craft Museum's video thanking Luminarium for its hard work:

Photos of the event can be viewed via Luminarium's Facebook album (click the thumbnail below) including some moments captured of our youngest viewer interacting with the installations:

Thank you to all who supported and participated in this out-of-the-norm residency, and to the network of performing artists who continuously make my Cultural Community Outreach Project a success.


Kinetic Craft was supported in part by a grant from the Brockton Cultural Council, a local agency which is supported by the Massachusetts Cultural Council, a state agency.

Monday, February 12, 2018

Que vous avez inspiré...

I've spoken these words on my blog in the past, and I'll say them again: I may not be "religious" in the traditional sense, but I am a firm believer in the power of synchronicity to make me pause and appreciate the interconnectedness of this complex universe of ours as a whole.

This summer I found myself caught in the swirl of one such synchronous moment—so personally profound that that I'm documenting and sharing it here. Sean and I traveled to Quebec this summer for a wedding, and while there, came across an artist's work that spoke to us both. Yet as the weekend went on, and Sean debated purchasing a piece, I was surprised to find that this artist's work meant more to me than I initially realized. Perhaps the best way to tell the story is to simply share the email I sent to the artist once we returned home. Here it is, in my rusty French, and then translated into English below.

Subject: Bonjour d'un artiste que vous avez inspiré...

Chère Sonia, 
J'ai récemment acheté une de vos magnifiques œuvres d'art, et cela m'a causé une expérience très émouvante. Quelques mois plus tard, je prends maintenant le temps de vous écrire et de vous raconter comment vos œuvres d'art sont importantes pour moi depuis mon enfance. Cette note est émouvante pour moi d'écrire, et j'espère que c'est bien reçu! 
Quand j'étais une jeune fille, mes parents m'ont emmené avec mon frère et moi en vacances à Québec, à partir de notre maison à Boston, MA, États-Unis. Je me souviens de tomber amoureux de la vieille architecture de la ville, de son histoire, et surtout de ses ruelles cachées pleines d'artistes de rue. À Boston, je n'avais jamais vu des artistes montrer leur travail dans les rues, alors c'était spécial pour moi. 
Mes parents sont des partisans des arts et ils m'ont aussi inculqué l'amour de l'art. Un jour de notre voyage, nous sommes retournés à la ruelle avec des stands d'art, et mes parents m'ont invité à choisir une œuvre d'art pour ma chambre. De toutes les œuvres d'art de la rue, l'une d'elles se détachait: une gravure minimaliste de deux ours bruns qui marchaient dans la neige. À l'époque, tout dans ma chambre était lumineux et joyeux, avec des papillons et des ballerines décorant mes murs. Pourtant j'étais là, tenant une gravure sombre, brune et blanche, contrairement à tout ce que j'avais déjà exprimé mon intérêt. 
Surpris par mon choix, mes parents m'ont demandé si j'étais sûr que c'était celui que je voulais, et pas l'arbre à fleurs qui était à côté de cela qu'ils envisageaient d'acheter. Je me suis immédiatement découragé et j'ai retourné les ours, mais je l'ai toujours regretté.
Seize ans plus tard, je suis maintenant un danseur professionnel et un artiste interdisciplinaire, avec un amour de l'art visuel. Il n'y a pas de fées dans ma chambre, mais mon mari (Sean) et moi avons décoré nos murs avec des œuvres d'art que nous avons collectionnées dans le monde entier. 
En juillet, Sean et moi sommes allés au Québec pour un mariage (juste un mois avant notre propre mariage!). C'était la première fois de Sean au Québec, et ma première fois depuis 2001. Chaque fois que mon mari voyage dans un nouveau pays, il cherche un «souvenir» fidèle à la région, signé par l'artiste, et idéalement il rencontre l'artiste. C'est parfois difficile à accomplir! Mais cela devient un ajout mémorable à notre maison. 
Quand nous avons trouvé une rue avec des artistes (y compris de nombreuses gravures à vendre), il est devenu très excité, tout comme moi. Nous avons tous deux convenu que le premier artiste était de loin supérieur en détail et imagination aux autres gravures que nous avions vues. Mais Sean hésitait à acheter l'œuvre car elle représentait des sites que nous n'avions pas visités.

Cette nuit-là, il m'a demandé mon avis, et je lui ai parlé de la belle gravure d'ours qui ne correspondait pas tout à fait à mon style habituel, mais que j'avais toujours regretté de laisser derrière elle. "Ironiquement", ai-je dit, "c'est arrivé ici au Québec, et c'était une gravure de technique similaire à ce que vous aimez." 
Le lendemain, nous sommes retournés au stand d'art. L'homme qui regardait le stand se souvenait de nous et a montré à Sean plus d'œuvres d'art, jusqu'à ce qu'il en trouve un qui combinait notre amour de l'histoire et l'idée de la ville de Québec «alors et maintenant». C'était parfait. 
Il a ensuite demandé si nous étions familiers avec la façon dont les gravures sont faites, et a commencé à nous montrer de vieilles photos des travaux en cours. En feuilletant le livre, mon cœur s'est arrêté. Là, dans l'une des photos, il y avait mes ours bruns perdus depuis longtemps dans la neige, en cours de création. Je ne pouvais pas le croire! J'aurais dû dire quelque chose, mais je me suis figé. Je ne pouvais littéralement pas croire que toutes ces années plus tard, nous avions trébuché sur la même ruelle et étions tombés amoureux du même artiste. 
Sean a acheté votre œuvre et maintenant elle est encadrée avec nos autres œuvres d'Europe et d'Asie. 
Une semaine plus tard, j'ai raconté toute l'histoire à mes parents. Ils ont trouvé l'information originale avec l'œuvre d'art qu'ils ont achetée en 2001, et bien sûr, il y avait ton nom: Sonia Gilbert. Mon père (qui se sentait mal de ne pas avoir choisi les ours à l'époque) a localisé ton site web et l'oeuvre dont je me souvenais.

Se rendre dans une ville étrangère en tant qu'artiste en herbe et tomber amoureux du travail d'un artiste professionnel, puis tomber amoureux du même artiste seize ans plus tard (maintenant que je suis moi-même artiste professionnel) fut une expérience émotionnelle pour moi. Je voulais partager cette histoire avec vous afin que vous sachiez que les touristes qui passent devant votre stand n'oublient pas votre travail. Pour certains spectateurs, votre travail les inspire pour les années à venir. 
Je vous remercie,

Subject: Thank you from an artist you inspired...

Dear Sonia,

I recently bought one of your beautiful works of art, and it was a very moving experience for me. A few months later, I am now taking the time to write to you and tell you how your art has been important to me since my childhood. This note is emotional for me to write, and I hope it is well received!

When I was a girl, my parents took my brother and me on vacation to Quebec, from our home in Boston, MA, USA. I remember falling in love with the old architecture of the city, its history, and especially its hidden streets full of street artists. In Boston, I had never seen artists show their work on the streets, so it was special for me.

My parents are supporters of the arts and they also instilled in me the love of art. One day of our trip, we returned to the alley with art booths, and my parents invited me to choose a piece of art for my room. Of all the works of art in the street, one of them stood out: a minimalist engraving of two brown bears walking in the snow. At the time, everything in my room was bright and cheerful, with butterflies and ballerinas decorating my walls. Yet there I was, holding a dark, brown and white engraving, contrary to any of my prior interests.

Surprised by my choice, my parents asked me if I was sure it was the one I wanted, and not the flower tree that was next to that they were considering buying. I immediately became discouraged and returned the bears, but I have always regretted it.

Sixteen years later, I am now a professional dancer and an interdisciplinary artist, with a love of visual art. There are no fairies in my room, but my husband (Sean) and I decorate our walls with works of art that we have collected from around the world.

In July, Sean and I went to Quebec for a wedding (just a month before our own wedding!). It was Sean's first time in Quebec, and my first time since 2001. Whenever my husband travels to a new country, he looks for a "souvenir" true to the region, signed by the artist, and ideally he meets the artist. It is sometimes difficult to accomplish! But it becomes a memorable addition to our home.

When we found a street with artists (including many prints for sale), he became very excited, just like me. We both agreed that the first artist was far superior in detail and imagination to the other prints we had seen. But Sean was reluctant to buy the work because it depicted sites we had not visited.

That night, he asked me for my opinion, and I told him about the beautiful engraving of a bear that did not quite fit my usual style, but that I had always regretted leaving behind. "Ironically," I said, "it happened here in Quebec, and it was an engraving similar to what you like."

The next day we went back to the art booth. The man who was watching the stand remembered us and showed Sean more works of art, until he found one that combined our love of history with the idea of ​​the city of Quebec "then and now." It was perfect.

He then asked if we were familiar with how the prints were made, and started showing us old pictures of the work in progress. Leafing through the book, my heart stopped. There, in one of the pictures, were my brown bears long lost in the snow, being created. I could not believe it! I should have said something, but I froze. I literally could not believe that all these years later, we had stumbled onto the same alley and fallen in love with the same artist.

Sean bought your work and now it is framed with our other works from Europe and Asia.

A week later, I told the story to my parents. They found the original information with the artwork they bought in 2001, and of course, there was your name: Sonia Gilbert. My father (who felt bad about me not choosing the bears at the time) located your website and the work I remembered.

Going to a foreign city as an aspiring artist and falling in love with the work of a professional artist, then falling in love with the same artist sixteen years later (now that I'm a professional artist myself) was an emotional experience for me. I wanted to share this story with you so that you know that the tourists who pass by your booth do not forget your work. For some viewers, your work inspires them for years to come.

Thank you,
Much to my excitement, I soon received the following reply.

Je suis très émue !!! 
Votre courriel a rempli de fierté ma fille et mon amoureux..., ce qui me touche énormément ! 
C'est une belle histoire et c'est une grande récompense pour mon labeur. 
J'ai inculque l'amour des arts à ma fille et ça me touche que d'autres suivent ce chemin qui élève le cœur et l'esprit des humains. 
Je fais la même chose que vous lorsque je voyage. J'encourage les artistes ! 
J'aime, à la fin de la saison, me rendre sur la Rue du Trésor pour rencontrer les gens, mes gens. Cela me donne beaucoup d'énergie et votre courriel me remplie de bonheur. 
Vous êtes très belle ! 
J'aimerais votre adresse postale si cela ne vous ennuie pas. 
Merci beaucoup.
Sonia Gilbert

I am very moved !!! 
Your email has filled with pride my daughter and my boyfriend ... it affects me tremendously! 
It's a great story and it's a great reward for my toil. 
I instills the love of art with my daughter and it touches me that others follow this path that elevates the heart and mind of humans. 
I'm the same as you when I travel. I encourage artists! 
Like at the end of the season, go on the street Treasury to meet the people, my people. This gives me a lot of energy and email filled me with happiness. 
You are very beautiful ! 
I would like your mailing address if you do not mind. 
Thank you very much.
Sonia Gilbert

A few months later, I received in the mail an intricate, tiny print of a hummingbird. Such a gorgeous gesture! In turn, I sent Sonia a small bundle of seed packets (Botanical Interests uses artwork on all of their seed packets—simply beautiful) to attract hummingbirds to her garden. Sure enough, she replied that she does love to garden and looks forward to planting them in the Spring.

So there it is: Another moment, seemingly just like any other, until that swirl of energy catches you up and you realize you've been here before. Only this time, you realize you did take the bears home with you after all—in fact, you've carried them with you every day since.

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Sorry, Sean. You're stuck with me.

The not-very-Merli wedding bouquet I was gifted pre-Ubering.

Not long after getting engaged, my friend Jenny set us wise to the wonders of engagement events hosted by venues throughout Boston as a ploy to lure young couples into their pricey grasps. One such event—at a venue I’ll refrain from revealing—threw quite the impressive shindig, complete with full buffets on every floor and open bars around every corner. Having been kind to the florist in attendance, Sean and I were handed their display flowers at the end of the night: a boutonnière for an already dapper-looking Sean, and a luscious bouquet for me. Hugging Jenny goodnight, we hopped into the back of our Uber shared ride, and proceeded to head to the driver’s next pickup. An older woman soon climbed into the front seat, did a doubletake at the two of us—dressed to the nines and flowers in hand—and finally asked “I’m sorry but…did the two of you just get married?” Sean laughed and shook his head as I immediately blurted, “It’s so funny you ask! I was just telling Sean we’ve got the flowers and look amazing…why not get married tonight?” “Well what are the odds,” our stranger replied, “I’m a minister!” “And I’m a witness,” chimed in our otherwise grumpy driver.

At this point, I apparently turned wide-eyed to Sean who, ever the voice of reason, calmly reminded me that “everyone we know would kill us.” Recognizing defeat, I thanked our fellow passenger, and continued to smile in the dark at the thought of a spontaneous, cost-free wedding.


Over the years, I’ve seen friends post their thoughts on weddings, be it their own or in response to society’s view of them in general. Some view it as a chance to realize their childhood fantasies of the “perfect, magical day;” some deem it a religious necessity; and others argue that getting married isn’t an “accomplishment” and should not be exalted as such. Whatever your own views may be, here are my own: I agree that marriage is not an accomplishment, but I do view it as one of the most important commitments one can make (or not make, if that’s your choice!). It is the formal recognition that not only have you found someone you value to the point of sharing your life with them, but also that you agree to be their partner emotionally and physically from this day onward.

Personally, I never dreamed of my wedding. I never crooned over wedding dress magazines or thought about how I’d style my hair. In fact, I downright laughed when one popular wedding website (who bought my email from who knows who) sent me an Urgent Reminder! that my wedding was only 365 days away and in order to stand any chance of looking beautiful for my ceremony, it was imperative that I start my wedding beauty regimen now! Can you imagine? 365 days of torture! But I digress… No, for me the perfect marriage—I thought at the time—was a quiet, simple, meaningful elopement, sharing my vows with Sean and Sean alone, outdoors surrounded by the sounds of nature and the eyes and ears of only the one marrying us. My fiancé on the other hand, was the one who had selected his groomsmen back in middle school; had visions of me walking down the aisle in a white dress; and represented our friends and families' pleas for a traditional wedding.

My view from the barn, early Saturday morning. Those gorgeous deep blue-gray clouds soon drifted away before returning at the end of the ceremony.

They say marriage is often about compromise, so compromise we did. I got my outdoor ceremony (on an alpaca farm, no less!), and everyone else got the rest. Yet the kicker is this: I loved every minute of it. Maybe it was the quiet Vermont setting, or the last-minute drop in numbers on our guest list, but our ceremony actually did feel quite intimate. I found myself turning to my friends standing by me and my family and framily in the rows along the lawn, laughing as Sean and I displayed our clear differences as people—him: earnest, meticulous, and at times, cautious; me: gregarious, spontaneous, and at times, impatient—and choking up as Sean revealed his secret ability to kick my ass at writing vows. 

The totally-Merli wedding bouquet I was thrilled to carry. Shout out to Fast Pony Flowers for creating the most insanely stunning bouquet I've ever held, and for answering my initial outreach email with "Haphazard is my specialty." Thank you, Melissa!

So although I didn’t have my Uber-ride elopement, I did have the perfect wedding. Sean and I made a good team, from site visits to tastings to décor planning, and those who attended or sent their love from afar made the weekend that much more powerful. Even Mother Nature gave us each what we desired: for Sean, a rich blue sky with a few puffy white clouds (his exact request), and for me, a sudden deluge of rain as our guests raced inside the reception barn, while Sean and I laughed our way through fields and covered bridges. Compromise at its finest.

Another shout out to our incredible weather-defying photographer Somerby Jones!

In the end, I am grateful. Grateful to Sean for committing to a lifetime of shenanigans with me, and for pushing me to include our incredible network of friends and family in this important life event; grateful to my family for making it financially possible for us to spend an entire weekend visiting with our guests (nothing felt rushed, and no one felt missed); grateful to our amusingly renegade officiant Wayne for balancing humor with solemnity; and grateful to all those closest to us who took the time out of their busy lives to travel to middle-of-nowhere Vermont and celebrate this commitment. Truly, I could not have asked for a better partner, nor a better way to legally kick off our partnership.

To everyone in my life: Thank you. To Sean: Let’s do this!

Friday, August 18, 2017

From Dusty & Dated to Clean & Current: DIY Hutch Makeover


When Katie and I first moved into our Arlington MA apartment back in 2013, we found ourselves with a considerable increase in living space, particularly thanks to the addition of a beautiful dining room. With my plate collection spilling out into the pantry, and our cupboards filling up quickly, you can imagine my glee when I came across this beauty at a nearby tag sale for a local cause.

My old and battered hutch, standing in the Arlington apartment, featuring my grandmother's china and photos of both Katie's family and mine.

The owner of the hutch was incredibly kind, offering to not only drive it back to my apartment up the road (when my parents' car turned out to be too small to fit it), but helping my dad carry it up the winding staircase. Had my parents not be there to help me bring it in, my interaction with the seller would have ended there, but—being the ever-proud mother she is—before I knew it, my mom had begun bragging about my recent trip to Indian as a lead performer with a local dance company. "That wouldn't happen to be Deborah Abel Dance Company, would it?" he asked, "My daughter studies at Deborah's school!" From there, the conversation built with laughter and story sharing, as he explained that this old hutch had served its purpose loyally for many years before being repurposed as a storage unit for his kids' arts and crafts. Not surprisingly, I spent the remainder of the day picking glitter out of crevices, and scraping paint off of drawers, while my friend Anna sat in a chair next to me stitching shimmery beading onto her latest dress. An homage to arts and crafts, indeed!

The dark stained hutch stood regally alongside my antique hutch and table, giving our dining room a formal, sophisticated vibe for our three years in Arlington. Upon moving to Sean and my first home in Brighton, it became clear our furniture collection wasn't fitting together very well, and when the news came that we'd be relocating to New Jersey, it seemed like the appropriate time to put certain items out on the street for free taking, while finally treating ourselves to a few new items.

And in the middle of this "out with the old; in with the new" cleansing, stood the hutch. Realizing that new or refurbished farmhouse-style hutches run anywhere from roughly $800 to $2000, I set out to give this poor thing yet another new life on my own—this time with a refreshingly bright and current look.


While every item on here was display worthy, their tiny sizes quickly added up to unintentional clutter.

Deep gouges everywhere...

...as well as stubborn paint and glitter!

And some dated, scratched up hardware.


Step 1: Kick out the terrible, warped backing to replace with more modern beadboard.

Step 2: Thanks to our excellent friend Russell, we were able to borrow an electric sander! Looking back at my desk refurb project, I can't believe my week of sanding by hand could have been accomplished in 40 minutes.

Step 3: My first experience with chalk paint! I chose Opera Gown by Valspar (and no, they did not pay me—I'm mostly writing this down for my own knowledge later).

It wasn't until I finished painting (of course!) that I decided I just couldn't live with that old-fashioned valance on the hutch. Solution? Call Russell again and bribe him with a bag of candy to cut off the "frills" and leave it as a simple curve. Thanks, Russell!

Yup, this hardware—while gorgeous on my antique secretary desk—had to go.

Step 4: After staining the top with Minwax Golden Oak (again, wish I was getting free samples, but sadly I'm just an enthusiastic amateur), it was coming across far too orange in comparison to the blue/gray paint. It also looked too bright! So I set out to darken it up, tone down the orange hues, and give it a slightly more weathered feel by layering Jacobean and Weathered Oak.


Back outside with the hutch, the freshly cut valance already looks so much cleaner!

Step 5: After cutting, it turned out the original valance wasn't as evenly shaped as I originally thought, so it took some careful sanding to shape each curve to mirror the other.

Step 6: Last but not least, the back! Took some finagling to fit it into place, but it's 100 times cleaner, brighter, and more solid than its flimsy, warped predecessor.

— AFTER — 
Ta da! Here she is—adding a warm and inviting touch to our new New Jersey dining room.

Finally, the finished piece!

Sean's "evoo" and "vin" pourers have found their place.

The new hardware came to us by surprise—while wandering the Blueberries & Bluegrass Festival in Peddler's Village, PA, we came across a hardware shop with the perfect knobs and pulls!

Finally, my serving tray and beautiful Merula olive oil have a perfect home, reflecting the colors of the buffet beneath them!

To give the tea kettle a little extra height, we sat it on a box (we quickly emptied) that once held french chocolate liqueurs, gifted to us on one of my dad's trips. A nice reminder of family and our time in Paris.

The teapot and cups themselves are a souvenir—bought on our trip to Napa, and made by local artisans using glazes created from vineyard ashes when the land needs cleansing. Another beautiful reminder of our love of traveling.

Remember what was here before? I removed the old drawer to instead use it as a functional display shelf for our clean white plates!

Sean's the cook; I'm handy with a hammer. We complement each other pretty damn well.

And look at all that storage!

So there it is—my hutch makeover. Enjoy this before-and-after image below, and we hope to keep this beautiful piece for a long, long time.

Dusty & Dated turned Clean & Current