The Fox is Black


  • It’s been over 16 years since I started Kitsune Noir (the predecessor to The Fox Is Black) and the beginnings of my foray into writing. In those 16 years, it’s been astonishing to see how the digital landscape has changed, evolved, and recently, begun to collapse in on itself. Similarly, though less disastrously, it’s interesting to think back about how much I’ve personally changed in that time. How my taste and interests have grown in new directions while some have wained and withered.

    At the core of what I do has always been curiosity. And with age, my curiosities and interests have changed. I’ve always viewed my work with The Fox Is Black as a journal, chronicling the things I see that delight me, along with the places I’m going, the things I’m doing, and world that I’m seeing. Taking you along for the journey is part of that journey. The fascinating people I’ve met over the last 16 years has been wondrous.

    Now, with The Fox Is Black’s current iteration, I’ve opted for simplicity. The design of the site is meant to evoke the warmth of the Mediterranean. A timeless feeling, a bit skeuomorphic, with each post meant to feel like you’re reading a letter from an old friend. There are a few smart features like the light box effect when you click an image, or the easy access buttons for music recommendations. It’s a focus on writing and imagery, plain and simple.

    For now, I’m really happy with this foundation. In the next few months I’ll add more formats to the site such as interviews, hopefully some wallpapers, and maybe a silly podcast? Time will tell. Thanks for all your support over the years, I hope you enjoy this new era of The Fox Is Black.

  • When we travel to different cities or countries, a little part of our brain unlocks. That overwhelming sense of mystery, intrigue, and excitement. Now nearly 11 months into living in Spain, Kyle and I are doing our best to explore our new home, taking long weekends and day trips, trying not to overthink it.

    A recent piece by Andre Aciman captured the joys of being away from the place you call home, and how nice it can be to sit and savor it:

    What I’m looking for is more in me than outside of me, just as sitting in this café allows me not to stop time but to distend it, to dispel all my thoughts and indulge in the eros of something unusual. I want to forget time. I don’t like time. When was time ever my friend? I don’t even want Orvieto to give me something new. What I want, maybe, is to be given something back, some intangible something I believe I once cradled but lost track of and can scarcely remember.