Instagram Story Viewer

I got nominated for a drama desk award today. Without mirrors was very special. Jerry and David, and Johnny, and Caren, and Kathleen, and Emily are the best. I made the lighting for this show with 9 source fours, 6 light bulbs I had at home, an I cue, a fan, the fog machine they have at the brick, plus some mirrors we found at materials for the arts and a mirror that Jerry found on the street. We didn’t even have a gel order. All told, we spent MAYBE 1500 dollarson this design, basically all of it on labor. Artistic abundance need not cost an arm and a leg. With thoughtful/playful collaboration you can make magic anywhere. Go make magic right now!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I flew to the west coast and took a photo of a log that looked neat.

For her deep investments in collaboration, continually putting herself on the line, and tirelessly honoring the legacy of experimental theatre with audaciously expansive lighting achievements this season, the judges are proud to present the Obie Award for Outstanding Design to KATE McGEE.

This happened 😎 So proud to have won for my work on such defiantly singular projects. Bestiary, Bowl EP, and Suppose beautiful Madeline Harvey are three of my favorite projects ever. To have helped create them all in one season was award enough. My speech is way too long. And I still didn’t get to thank everyone. I will say that despite the horrors, defiantly shifting my practice back to a place of unabashed love has been transformational. I love theater and the weirdos who make it so much. I love that I get to watch performers every day for work. I love the technicians I collaborate with. I love the administrators who keep the doors open.I love the people who run box office. I love the custodians who clean our spaces after we leave. I probably love you, too. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

This happened 😎 So proud to have won for my work on such defiantly singular projects. Bestiary, Bowl EP, and Suppose beautiful Madeline Harvey are three of my favorite projects ever. To have helped create them all in one season was award enough. My speech is way too long. And I still didn’t get to thank everyone. I will say that despite the horrors, defiantly shifting my practice back to a place of unabashed love has been transformational. I love theater and the weirdos who make it so much. I love that I get to watch performers every day for work. I love the technicians I collaborate with. I love the administrators who keep the doors open.I love the people who run box office. I love the custodians who clean our spaces after we leave. I probably love you, too. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

This happened 😎 So proud to have won for my work on such defiantly singular projects. Bestiary, Bowl EP, and Suppose beautiful Madeline Harvey are three of my favorite projects ever. To have helped create them all in one season was award enough. My speech is way too long. And I still didn’t get to thank everyone. I will say that despite the horrors, defiantly shifting my practice back to a place of unabashed love has been transformational. I love theater and the weirdos who make it so much. I love that I get to watch performers every day for work. I love the technicians I collaborate with. I love the administrators who keep the doors open.I love the people who run box office. I love the custodians who clean our spaces after we leave. I probably love you, too. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

This happened 😎 So proud to have won for my work on such defiantly singular projects. Bestiary, Bowl EP, and Suppose beautiful Madeline Harvey are three of my favorite projects ever. To have helped create them all in one season was award enough. My speech is way too long. And I still didn’t get to thank everyone. I will say that despite the horrors, defiantly shifting my practice back to a place of unabashed love has been transformational. I love theater and the weirdos who make it so much. I love that I get to watch performers every day for work. I love the technicians I collaborate with. I love the administrators who keep the doors open.I love the people who run box office. I love the custodians who clean our spaces after we leave. I probably love you, too. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

One great thing about this year is that I got back to taking photos. Of the 2400 or so I took, a few I really loved. Including this one.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

2025 was a hard year. As a clocky transwoman I basically became public enemy number 1 to much of America. My year started with the president and the federal government declaring that I don’t exist. I want to post one of those defiant I’m still here no matter what! essays, but the reality is that I’m limping across the finish line into 2026.

2024 was the busiest year of my career so far. In 2025 basically all of my institutional theater work evaporated, to the point that I turned down more shows in 2024 than I designed in 2025. Suddenly shows that used to be offers became interviews and then even the interviews stopped coming. I lost explicitly trans shows to cis designers several times. The one major off-broadway show I had in 2025, I booked in the summer of 2024. I had other income lighting concerts last year, but in the first 6 months of 2025, I made $4,250 working in theater. I survived through the year partially on the back of savings that are now completely drained. I have a bit more credit card debt that I am comfortable with.

The good news is that I remain firmly entrenched in the tranny 1 percent. Even having lost sixty percent of my income overnight, I can still afford to have a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. I speak English, am white, and have my citizenship. I am not in danger of being carted away by ICE to one of DHS’s torture facilities. (Yet) I am often scared with good reason. I have been depressed for periods over the past year, though never enough that I didn’t try to make something beautiful every day. Really the predominant emotion this year has been a profound sense of depersonalization. In the Documentary my undesirable friends Part 1, Russian journalists targeted by Putin’s regime speak of feeling like they have fallen into a separate world that none of their countrymen even know exists. This is the reality for trans people and immigrants right now. ICE is engaged in ethnic cleansing. We trans people are becoming un-personed in the eyes of the law. I weigh daily the idea of leaving the US. We simply are not living in the same America as the rest of you.

I started taking photos again about a year ago, and so far I’ve made one truly excellent image 😎

More than a decade on from its writing, Celine Songs prescient late Obama era play “Family”, gets turned up to 11 in @hoipolloiworld ‘s blast beat of a production. I do hope you can make it to @lamamaetc for the run 😈

More than a decade on from its writing, Celine Songs prescient late Obama era play “Family”, gets turned up to 11 in @hoipolloiworld ‘s blast beat of a production. I do hope you can make it to @lamamaetc for the run 😈

More than a decade on from its writing, Celine Songs prescient late Obama era play “Family”, gets turned up to 11 in @hoipolloiworld ‘s blast beat of a production. I do hope you can make it to @lamamaetc for the run 😈

Birds are beautiful. Don’t forget to look up, Brooklyn 😎📸

Absolute dream come true to light the one and only Esperanza Spalding and co for 10,000ish people in Montreal over 4th of July weekend. I think it’s no coincidence that the kindest crew in live music also happens to be one of the most talented. 🥰 Can’t say enough about these humans.

I bought a camera so that I would have something other than close ups of my designs and then I shot my first show with it and basically took nothing but close ups. Anyway, come see Hoi Polloi’s winning is winning at Jill@Jack through July 13th.