DEBORAH BRODSKY: I think of Lilly’s time on East Sixth as a golden era. If someone had told me I would be moving west in two years, I’d have laughed them out of the room. At that point, New York was everything: my cosmos, my dharma, my whole way of life. After years of seeking and struggling, I was enmeshed in this vital, creative clan that was stronger and more loving than my “real” family in Woodmere had ever been. I was too young to think any of it would ever change. Renaldo wasn’t using yet, Leon was writing his plays—creating these compelling, complex roles for Cass—and the two of them were on fire with each other, this passionate creative engine. Judy and I were trying each other on for size, and I felt like I’d discovered a wonderful secret, thought that we’d avoid the usual traps since a man wasn’t involved. Lilly didn’t fit in with us right away—she looked like she was going to fall over the first time she saw me with Judy—but I could tell she just needed time to shrug off the last bits of Ohio still clinging to her. And once she did—well, it was Renaldo who put it best. She looked like she was on the outside, he said, but she was more inside than us all. Renaldo had a sixth sense for people; it was part of what made him such a beautiful dancer.

The way Lilly sat at the edge of the collective energy made her easy to overlook, but pay attention and you could tell that deep things were going down. The way she watched, she was like a lizard on a rock soaking up the heat, only Lilly was soaking up the people. And this was all before you even saw the camera. Once you did, you realized Lilly existed for that camera, as a living extension of it.

Later, I saw the same thing when she was holding Samantha. It was the first time I thought being a mother could be a positive force, something loving and artistic—though that was an idea I wouldn’t do anything with for many years. Anyway, when Lilly first showed up, I was reading every Sunday at the Zenith, and the idea of a journal wasn’t something I was just fooling around with in my head anymore. People were starting to submit work: friends from the Zenith scene, friends who read in other places, and friends who weren’t reading anywhere and wanted a way to put their words on the wind.