My Fairy-Tale Life, by Steven Boone

  Two weeks slipped by since my last post—sunlit and full, with the kind of quiet richness that unfolds when one returns to old ground with ...

New Mexico again—the land of wide skies, long shadows, and a heartbeat that still echoes in my bones. Albuquerque was the first stop: a swee...

From rogue taxis to Diego’s grave, tracing art, memory, and spirit through Roma Norte Plaza Río de Janeiro Amy and I parted ways on Monday, ...

  Amy and I are about to trade the bougainvillea and brass bands of Oaxaca for the buzzing highways and family hearths of the United States....

Lately, I’ve found myself returning to a time-honored tradition in painting: the still life. These quiet compositions—humble, unmoving, eve...

For nearly four years now, Amy and I have welcomed neighborhood children to our home each Sunday afternoon for free art classes. It began as...

Some cities whisper. Oaxaca shouts, sings, sometimes howls—and always colorfully. For Amy and me, living just outside the city, each visit i...

Every time my wife and I make the 40-minute drive from our quiet village into the vibrant heart of Oaxaca, I feel a shift—as though I’m step...

My wife Amy and I try to make the journey from our village into Oaxaca whenever events of deep cultural meaning unfold. These are times when...

Umbral (50 x 40 cm), captures a native Oaxaqueña standing at the threshold of a weathered wooden doorway with  deep turquoise trim . The vi...

As previously mentioned, focus has returned to words. Combing through decades of writing, essays are taking shape drawn from years of travel...