I took a turn guest-hosting on Shara Morris and Ariela Emery’s radio show, Real Talk, on KCHUNG Radio. Check out the first 15 minutes to hear our discussion on what it means to travel alone as a female.
"Dunham has found a successful shtick — creating big, hot messes who are easy to sympathize with — and with a new multi-million dollar book deal, she’s building it into a comedy empire. But she, unlike her characters, isn’t stuck in arrested development; though Dunham’s made a career off of being funny and pathetic, her latest piece of writing, the film Nobody Walks, shows that she’s heading in a new and somewhat surprising direction. This one isn’t that funny, and that’s intentional. It’s also not that engaging, however, which is a bigger problem.”
For those of you in the Portland, Maine area on May 16, it’s my first gallery show, at the Salt Institute for Documentary Studies. The show features the radio, writing, photo and multimedia work of this semester’s students at the Salt. Come by if you can!
Photograph by Liz Mak. Kimberly and her American Girl doll.
If you’ve had any experience with the Jejune Institute, it’s probably similar to my own: I was introduced to it by a friend, who first took great pains to pronounce the name correctly — je-joon — and then refused to say another word on the subject. “I can’t tell you anything more about it,” he said, “but you should definitely go try it for yourself.”
Catching on largely through word-of-mouth, the now inoperative Institute was an alternate reality game and beloved not-so-secret secret created by Oakland artist Jeff Hull. Also named the Center for Socio-Reengineering, the Jejune Institute has long been the subject of misinformation and rumor, with many mistaking the game’s smattering of devotees and obscure operations for the trappings of a cult. In truth, it was a multi-level urban scavenger hunt, and an opportunity to better familiarize oneself with San Francisco and explore the landscape through appreciation of the small details: a graffito, or a plaque stuck at the base of a forgotten statue. It was, at best, a game both meticulously planned and unpredictably spontaneous, revealing a hidden, less-appreciated San Francisco.