Welcome to The Good Butter
Hi I'm Charlotte, I am a writer and editor from New York City. I like to get around by riding my bike and taking the ferries. I take far too many pictures of sunsets, water, and the full moon. My favorite places in the city are where nature and the neglected meet.So what does good butter have to do with any of this? When baking delicious cookies one should always use the good butter.The excerpts and links below go to some of my work that has been published on the web. If you'd like to read more, you can contact me.
A Public Space
March 12
"Well, here it is, the day all the other days hinge on. After forty years, we still don't know what to do on this day. I still don't know what to do because it's complicated: I still don't want you to be dead and you're still dead all the same; how is this a celebration?"
The Twenty Magazine
Breaking The Surface: The Journey of a Beginner
"Surfing? I would never admit to this secret passion, not even to myself. Buried down so deep I even have to question is this a passion at all or am I just making it all up? But every time I look at a big swell my blood surges and my heart races. I’m fascinated by the roll; in wonder and awe of the structure, the miracle and beauty of curve and I want to be in it. Of course I’m terrified. No I have never surfed. Just in my mind, surfed my fantasies about surfing."
The Brooklyn Rail
Please Return
"I’m supposed to be writing about archives for Charles Duncan. This will force me to revisit my dissertation on stuff. No, I have never written a dissertation on stuff, but I could. The nature of stuff—why we have stuff, why some stuff is important, why it’s important to preserve certain stuff for the public good, what separates memory and the evidence of a life from an archive, what makes that stuff so important.Charles knows all about this kind of stuff.He contacted me just after my mother, Rose Slivka, died: “We’d like to complete the archive.” Charles worked for the Smithsonian’s Archives of American Art doing a lot of outreach, shaking trees to see what fruit would fall. He had no idea he would be helping me to move fifty boxes of assorted papers upstairs from the basement of my mother’s house. He had no idea his rented van would be the tiny circus clown car to my mother’s deeds."
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