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By the time I contacted Marion for an interview in 2003, I’d been a widow for long enough that I no longer feared meeting this first wife, though I cannot say I was looking forward to it. I will admit I was intimidated by Marion’s effortless grace—who wouldn’t be? She is a good deal younger than I …

When I later asked her why she bought the paintings if she didn’t think they were so great, X told me they were her reminder that meaningful work isn’t always “good work” and a challenge to make things that were both good and meaningful. The paintings were also, though my wife was loath to utter su…

It would not be unreasonable to say that X and I, in that moment, did not yet know each other except by instinct. We hadn’t yet cohabitated, had endured no hardships, hadn’t traveled together, and had only discussed personal matters in the most cursory ways. Despite this, I felt X knew me better th…

The Pain Room was designed to be viewed by one person at a time. Viewers had to open the short door, crawl inside the little room, lock themselves in, and sit in a chair to view a six- minute film, a compilation of vile images and scenes—torture, decay, violence, death. If the viewer flinched or lo…

when she visited the office of the “dubiously named small press,” she met two employees, “the sort of nebbish folk that flow like tepid blood from one publishing venture to the next.”