Curated Compost: Creativity, the Pixie Dust of Maggie Rogers and More
A few leads on magical, lovely things to dive into.
Read
My cousin—that femme fatale—is always sending me books that broaden my mind and heart. And they always seem to come on time, like a bird at your window. The latest is the beautiful The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin with Neill Strauss. Rubin and Strauss make the case ardently, elegantly, that yes, the works are important, but the truth of being an artist is the way of living. More, of being, as their title suggests.
Listen
On 8/3, I got to see an artist I’ve cherished for years: The young Maggie Rogers, whose essence, verve, songs and interesting “start,” atomized by Pharrell Williams (parenthesis because we know art doesn’t start at the moment of discovery, but culture often suggests it does) accompanied me during the tumultuous and beautiful summer of 2019. My singer of the truest anthems. Plus, anyone who loves Maine (and Rogers is quite flagrant with her love of this cold wild state) immediately endears themselves to me. She played at Thompsons Point, encouraged by a globular harvest moon, and she was lovely.
To fall in love, start here, with the first song I ever heard by Maggie: Alaska
Quickie: Laugh
Tim Urban, the essayist who most consistently makes me snort reading his work, on having his first baby here.