Rooted, Restless
Staying Put, Casting Lines
I’ve been in Pittsburgh for fourteen months now.
The last time I stayed in one place that long, I was in my twenties and broke. And honestly, I’m not sure that even slowed me down then. I remember fifty bucks, a good friend, and a last-minute drive to Chicago like it was nothing. Movement has always been my default.
Which is why what I want right now — badly — is to get out of town.
So of course, life has asked me to stay still.
That tension doesn’t come naturally to me. But it’s familiar. These last several months have carried the texture I know well: commitment layered on top of longing. Work while it’s there. Say yes to the gig. Do the job. Finish the show. Get out of town. Rinse and repeat. For years, that’s been the rhythm: work, make money, travel, make art.
Lately, though, the pattern has shifted.
A Routine That Barely Qualifies as One
When I’m not on a show, my days follow something that resembles a routine — though “routine” might be generous. Mornings are for grounding: coffee, ten minutes of journaling, yoga, meditation. After that, the first few hours are reserved for thinking work — business decisions, logistics, planning. The afternoons and evenings belong to making: writing, painting, creating. I learned this rhythm years ago — that the brain likes to chew through logistics early and save creative real estate for later.
Routine, for me, is stabilizing. It’s the place where I put myself first — something I’ve had to practice intentionally. That is why the first hour of my mornings are set aside for me.
But when I’m on a show, working twelve to sixteen hours a day, that structure compresses. Writing becomes five minutes instead of thirty. Yoga turns into ten minutes instead of an hour. Meditation happens in my car at lunch. I don’t abandon the ritual — I scale it. That’s survival with intention.
A Show Finds Its Home
Over the holidays, while much of the world slowed down, I went the other direction. I had a two-week hiatus and spent it submitting proposals — three major artist calls (including one at the Pittsburgh International Airport), five residency applications, and two artist grants. At the same time, I was installing two art shows. (I will never be accused of not trying!)
One of those — the abstract work — has found a home at Father Ryan’s Art Center in McKees Rocks. Which is also where my art studio is located (more on that in a minute).
It’s a true community hub: music rooms, dance studios, classrooms, a theater that seats over a hundred, workshops, a café, and accessible visual arts programming for all ages. It felt right that this work landed there — in a place that, like Sto-Rox itself, is still becoming.
Sto-Rox exists because two towns — Stowe and McKees Rocks — chose collaboration over separation. Instead of picking one name, they merged. The result is a place defined by overlap, shared ground, and resilience. That spirit mirrors the work on the walls.
If you’re curious to see it in person, Father Ryan Arts Center is open throughout the week, with weekday hours stretching from morning into evening and Saturday access as well. And yes — if you’re wandering McKees Rocks, Pierogies Plus nearby is worth the stop. Consider that a local directive.
The Studio in McKees Rocks
My current studio is inside Radiant Hall in McKees Rocks, and it’s become both refuge and engine room for me.
There’s something about this neighborhood — the grit, the history, the way life hums instead of performs — that feels alive underfoot. It is also home to one of the most beautiful churches I have seen in Pittsburgh. It literally makes me think I am in Prague instead of McKees Rocks. We’ve also been filming here a lot — in pockets across the neighborhood — because the place is unexpectedly cinematic.
Radiant Hall itself is rare: affordable studio space paired with a genuine creative community. Not just rooms to rent, but a place where artists show up, experiment across disciplines, and build long-term relationships. It feels less like isolation with a key and more like being part of something alive.
Around the Corners: Los Sabrosos
Across town, on Penn Avenue, there’s another pulse entirely.
As I mentioned in the last post, Los Sabrosos has become part of the current rhythm — a community centered around movement, expression, and shared energy. The latest show there carries a different tempo than the studio or the abstract work. It’s social. Rhythmic. Alive.
It’s a reminder that art doesn’t only happen in quiet rooms with paint under fingernails. Sometimes it happens where bodies move together, where rhythm becomes collective.
I moved my Navigational Series along those walls — letting the work brush up against motion instead of solitude.
Why This Matters — And What’s Next
None of these projects feel like endpoints. They feel like chapters of curiosity:
abstract work anchored in community space
a studio that functions as infrastructure for what’s next
filming in lived-in neighborhoods instead of curated facades
movement-based communities that keep the work social and porous
These are couriers of momentum, not destinations.
What’s ahead feels tangible now:
Books this year — plural, if all goes well
a hoped-for artist residency in South America
and, if timing and luck align, a feature at the Pittsburgh International Airport — a full-circle moment I don’t take lightly
Why I’m Sharing This Here
If you’re here, this isn’t just an update — it’s an invitation.
I’m not done traveling.
I’m not done making.
I’m not done letting the unfamiliar pull me forward.
What’s different now is that I finally have the space — literal and internal — to let the work deepen instead of fragment. The studio is humming. The writing is coming back online. The road is still calling.
I’m just answering it from a more grounded place.
Thanks for staying close to this work, for walking alongside the detours, and for supporting Skewed North as it continues to evolve.
It’s only getting better from here. 🧭
For Paid Subscribers: Do I Go to South America… or Should I?
Having no freedom for six months because I committed to the show — and I’m loyal AF — has me a little amped right now. In a good way. In a restless way.
Once again, I find myself with very few responsibilities. Okay, maybe a couple small ones. Like my cat, Tater. But he knows this drill. He’s been through this phase before.