
The Girl and the Baton
Under the stars in Bordeaux, a conductor handed a little girl her baton. What happened next is something I will never forget.
My Red Sneakers is a collection of reflective essays on identity, courage, art, memory, and meaning after illusion, ambition, and certainty fall away. I don’t write as an expert or guide, but as a traveler who has paid attention.
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Under the stars in Bordeaux, a conductor handed a little girl her baton. What happened next is something I will never forget.

Ella Fitzgerald almost danced at the Apollo and then sang instead and made history. My aunt's song to me as a kid taught me why that leap matters.

On Greece: a borrowed culture, an honorary etera, magpies that mate for life, and standing humbled in the shadow of everything it gave the world.

Camille Claudel didn't lose her mind—she lost her name. Auguste Rodin's muse, erased for 30 years as an "inconvenience."

That night, nobody wanted to go home. Here's why sobremesa, the Spanish art of lingering after a meal, might be exactly what many are missing.

Punished for sloppy handwriting. Silenced by a D in art. Decades later, a tiny canvas and two blue lines changed a person's perspective about what was possible.

She fled revolutions, painted power, and wore her escape on her wrists. Tamara de Lempicka survived everything, including being forgotten.

Picasso's genius is preserved forever. So why does a little girl walk through a museum and sense, even before she can say it, that something is missing?

A light show in Provence, a genius in an asylum, a young woman who signs her name in the back of the canvas. The question is: whose art gets on the walls?

I failed my first test and it changed my life. One professor, one bad grade, and suddenly Lord Byron became a shadow I'd carry for decades.