The essence of Wit..

I was shocked to find out about the death of LA filmmaker/writer Theresa Duncan. Her blog, The Wit of the Staircase, was one of the few of these things I read regularly. It was sharp and unpredictable and capable of reaching poetic notes. Her descriptions of smells and perfumes were wildly inspired (Her description of Dzing! is how I found her). I was beginning to wonder why her site was not updating.

I don't know the circumstances of her death, other than what you can read
online - she killed herself July 10 or thereabouts, in NY, film project in jeopardy, left a long note, leaving her longtime soulmate, the artist Jeremy Blake, despondent, and now missing and believed dead himself, his clothes, passport, and wallet found at the water's edge in Rockaway Beach, after a report of a man swimming out to sea. It's an epically romantic end. Who can say if it's true. If some one you only know through the internet is said to be dead, then you morn the virtual loss.

I didn't know her, other than a few short emails, but like many, I was stuck on her ability to make you yearn for a world as vibrant and original as hers - A secret Lunar Society, a great home in Venice, a well turned phrase, a great picture choice, a coveted item, a sapphic celebrity crush, a flare for stylish elitism. Honestly, her sometimes haughty voice, like most haughty voices, seemed put on, and often made me wonder what (kind of pain) she was trying to cover up. Anyhow, I'll miss her passionate assertions and I hope she's found some peace.