here we go…

Hello there internet~
I am sitting here wondering what the most clever and enticing way to begin a blog is…What am I going to say to keep you coming back for more?!

*crickets*

I got nothin’…’cept the truth and a “promise.”

Truth: I needed MORE SPACE! I’ve been writing about female graffiti writers since 2001. I took a few years between the MA and the PhD to pay my dues at various nonprofit orgs. and then got back into researching and interviewing in 2008. Almost immediately, I realized I needed somewhere to put all the incredible images, interviews, and pictures that simply do not fit into one measly dissertation. Ha. I said measly. The answer to the space problem has always been a blog, but not until now did I actually have time to sit down and deal with the techy brouhaha needed even when using these lovely templates.

Promise: So, in the next few weeks I “promise” to do some digging into my archives to get this movin’. After that, with the shows opening at bob bar in the LES every month (curated by muah), I am sure I can keep you at least partially entertained with graffiti-related amazingness.

If you are just dying to read more, you can check out the page “Fillin’ with Feminism” that links to the little manifesto type piece that the outstanding ladies over at C.O.P. published for me. And if you read that and I still haven’t updated…check out my blogroll.

Or peep one of my favorite songs to listen to while I write and revel in the old school wonderfulness: 

P.s. if you (like most) are wondering “why ovaries?” (or, are slightly offended by the ovaries) or think my blog/dissertation title is a play on Stephen ESPO Powers’s book…this is important: It’s not meant to refer back to Espo’s book in any way and it is most certainly not actually about ovaries.  Hip hop graffiti (different from the “stop the war” or “Jane loves Lisa” types of graffiti) is often referred to as the “art of getting over.” So, back in the early 2000s when I began working with NYC writer Dona, she sent me an image of a piece she did and at the top it said “The Art of Getting Ovaries”—end of story. The playful pun signaling difference and determination won me over, and with her blessings I ran with it.

That’s all for now, more later…

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