I’m Adrienne,

but I respond to ‘mama' and a secret family nickname and also, “friend,” my favorite calling. I’m good at friendship. I’m good at friendship because I’m good at alone-ship. (so, not the hanging out part as much as the loyal beyond measure part.) I’m less good at community unless we’re talking teaching, in which case students 8-80 say I’m frustratingly good at holding space that invites your desire for community + asks you to bring your whole self to the effort.

I live at the foot of the Blue Ridge, and it’s the mountains or desert for me. I don’t hate the ocean, but I don’t crave submersion. I do deep dives all on my own; I want to spread out and up, and I ask the land for that support. I’m on Monacan land. I like hats and very long walks by myself. 

mostly, I’m roaming theaters, galleries, bookstores, and corner dive bars, staying the course of that time I escaped, generally running from anything that sounds like permanence, demanding a lot of emotional support from films I’ve memorized, and reclaiming my romantic tendencies. here, specifically, I’m pausing to annotate philosophy on intimacy, accidental patterns, art practice, legacy, surrender, mothering the act, and becoming. 


I like to keep things casual; I hated Patreon, and I’m not built for the forever implications of a newsletter, but I want the barrier to entry for my nonsense to be low.. aaaaaand writing, as all art, transforms and enlivens, and the human behind the page is splayed, and so yeah, some things are behind a paywall. that’s about my protection, my sense of privacy, and my revelations, only.

in general, h o m e / w o r k is kind of a container. it holds:

after/hours, an off-grid mapping of constellatory thinking cobbled together parallel to art-making;

& book/club, which is kitchen table whispers à la Weems’ dreams, and it is a paid thing because, frankly, it’s private love notes + performance recordings..

(truly, I don’t easily share that which I hold precious, and the club is a challenge to the control agent in me that seeks to hoard beauty for myself #justincase.)

it’s ok if I overwhelm you.

it’s ok if you’re not sure where to begin.

it’s ok if you feel convicted by words, sometimes; even your own.

I’m no good at making myself palatable, and I don’t know if I’m inspiring to, but I’m sure as hell legit, and damn good company, and maybe you’ve been looking for a reason to abandon your tendency toward shrinkage.

In the end, that’s what you’ll get here: antidotes to recoiling from your wildest dreams.

xx Adrienne

Why subscribe?

This is what was written, generically:

“Subscribe to get full access to the newsletter and website. Never miss an update.”

But, if you’re anything like me, the answer is: because you’ll forget until the little receipt comes through and then what was even the point of this?

More sincerely, I have built this corner for ideas + moments without a home. Perhaps, subscribe in solidarity with the act of sharing for no reason.


They said:

“You won’t have to worry about missing anything. Every new edition of the newsletter goes directly to your inbox.”

I know: time is an illusion, but FOMO is real.

Vibes, etc.

Provided logic:

“Be part of a community of people who share your interests.”

My logic: These are my interests, sis, and they don’t have to be yours, but I’ll write about them all pretty and sarcastic and soul-affirming, and, like, maybe that can be your interest.

Subscribe to h o m e / w o r k

irregular commentary on art, mothering, world domination from bed, time, and words.. from Adrienne Oliver, unrelenting romantic, unreliable narrator, and all-around damn good company.


mother of the year & unreliable narrator with big auntie energy.