“Summer will end soon enough, and childhood as well.”
was hiding, not very effectively, on a ski slope turned lush by summer. When I saw it from a distance, it was standing; as we approached, it lay down to await whatever fate we wished to dole out.
Forêt de Compiègne, France
High Noon at the Poppy Corral
Everyone knows that the best time to go on a desert photo hike is right around noon, when it’s 90 degrees, the light quality is as harsh as possible, and the sun is beating down on you like seven hundred hammers.
God, it was hot. The Klimt umbrella was not placed for cuteness; it fell out of my sweaty fumbling hands and rolled away down the trail as if to say: “Let’s get the hell out of here. Please.”
Antelope Valley, CA.
Three Years, 27 Countries, One Hell of a Pair of Boots.
They’ve been with me as I tromped through the USA, Luxembourg, Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, China, Russia, Greece, Turkey, Egypt, United Arab Emirates, Malaysia, Indonesia, Canada, England, France, Austria, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Poland, Portugal, Spain, Italy, Croatia, Bosnia, Montenegro, and Serbia.
Time to put them out to pasture… and replace them with an identical pair.
Disclaimer: I’ve worked on many projects with over a dozen different studios. None of the following content is meant to implicate any one in particular, and it is not a strictly linear narrative.
Update, 10-1-13: You can find a follow-up interview to this post here: http://www.gamesindustry.biz/articles/2013-09-30-women-in-games-rebalancing-the-scales
There’s been a lot of anger creeping into my corner of the internet: Anger about the unequal or insensitive treatment of women and minorities, specifically within the game industry.
As a woman working in games since 2007, I’ve felt hurt, discouraged, and isolated by various forms of discrimination. Most of it came from people who were in no way intending to be hurtful. Anger does not accurately describe my true feelings, and so I don’t feel angry.
Really, I don’t.
Let’s say you’re a guy who’s just entered the game industry right out of college. People joke about you being all young and fresh-faced, but then after a couple of months they get tired of the joke, or some new blood moves in and you’re not the “young guy” any more.