It only takes a few words..

I have been reminded lately just how powerful our words can be. What we speak to ourselves internally and what we allow escape our mouths into the ether has flight, holds weight. Fear and negativity - when ingested, projected, indulged - only foster more of the same. Positive thoughts and energy - when nurtured - regenerate in a similar manner, but they're undeniably more pleasurable to spread and therefore more powerful than any bile-filled, downtrodden pejorative.

It's such a simple, almost quaint idea. One that's shown itself true in my life time after time, but one that can be hard to live by in the muck of the day to day. When I need a reminder I choose and repeat a mantra, an inspirational phrase spoken in the present tense that's calibrated to bring about positive change. The ones that have been on my tongue for years are still potent but I've needed new fodder. This phrase, delivered by a friend this morning in a timely email, is just right :

"You, my dear, are not a fearful woman. You are full of light and hope and love.

I'll accept that and I'll repeat it, again and again. Thank you for lighting up my morning, Friend, for giving me a new tool with which to keep dreaming and stretching and growing.

Electric Wire Hustle

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Electric Wire Hustle, a neo soul group out of New Zealand, at an intimate loft party in Brooklyn. I'd admittedly never met anyone from that part of the world before, but I wasn't expecting so much soul and swagger.

Their sound amply fits into a genre I call "journey music" - the type that lays an intoxicating base and forces you to be in the moment with it, almost as if in a trance. And in that moment you're loose to feel whatever emotion, memory, or real-time interaction you might be having - fully and freely. Its tone creates a sacred space.

Here's one of my favorites tracks ...



Last night I smiled slyly to the lyrics, "chew on the thing, sexy style" ... though, in the sober light of Sunday morning, I think he might be saying "do her own thing, sense of style." (smile) Both are nice, you decide...

untitled

photo by : Ronald Traeger

Last night's thunderstorm and hail must have come through to remind us recently returned city folk that nature still rules. It was absolutely fantastic to be caught in her whirl last night, despite the soggy socks and the unspun hair. Actually, because of that coming undone. A reminder to be wild, even in the pretty city.

That Dress Looks Nice On You..

Never underestimate the power of a compliment. Of exposing oneself enough to lift someone else up.

How sweet is this song... a dreamy musing, from desirous man to deserving woman...

A Poem

I found this poem or, should I say, this poem found me this morning, after a desperate week. An elegant reminder to put out into the world what we want to see, what we want to receive and know as our reality. Easier mused upon than lived at times, but a solid truth nonetheless. One to aspire to, to strive for, to live by...

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true,
Then give the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.

Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need,
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your word and deed.

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind;
And honor will honor meet;
And a smile that is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.

Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn,
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thoughts outborne
Though the sowing seemed but vain.

For life is the mirror of king and slave,
‘Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.

- Madeline Bridges -
American poet (1844 – 1920)

Something Outrageous

photographer : unknown

A good friend sent me a greeting card reminding me to do something outrageous everyday, stating that it's those random acts of self expression and daring that keep our hearts beating and our souls smiling. Indeed.

For me, the most outrageous, daring thing I can do is to step out and "make my own music" so to speak, to identify and then work diligently on a project of my own. A notion that fills me with equal parts angst and joy, a swinging pendulum of high emotion that has me exhausted right now. How to balance it all, how to eliminate the fear and judgement, that's always been my question.

This photograph by an unknown photographer (if you know the origin, please do share), pulled all of these thoughts together for me this morning. An artist at his craft, at his love, independent of yet amidst the crowd.

Here's to the courage to step out and do something outrageous, to getting going, to being kind to oneself in the process.

..and Sunday Morning

Saturday Night...

Otoño

Fall time is my time, my favorite time of the year. The past two days have given a glimpse of what's to come in a few months and I have welcomed their early arrival wholeheartedly.

There aren't many out there like me, I don't think. Fall for me represents new life, growth, substance. The blown out bright of Summer fades down and you can see what lies before you; objects that were once backlit and sometimes distorted by the Summer sun come into focus and you can really see what you're working with.

Fall for me is a duet of adventure and focus. I usually take my big soul stretching trips during this season. I also tend to dream, create and actualize to the turning of the leaves, the more languid step. And it's already begun, thanks to this little taste of breeze and grey sky.

This song took me there this morning, along with visions of oversized scarves, flirty trench coats, a smart looking cap from Still Life and a Fall cutie to match. Bags packed, airplanes taking off, a good book tucked underarm. Yes please.

thisisaphototest

In just a few short weeks one of my best friends is moving to London to pursue a new phase in life. She is away this week, saying final farewells to her family in New Jersey. This temporary separation simulates more to come, and I can't deny that I've been a bit low without her. But I am so so proud of the woman she is and the woman she is growing to be.

In her absence today, I visited her photoblog, a beautiful reflection of her eye, her wit, her professional and personal integrity. The following words struck me, spoke to me, someplace deep. And they made me smile, knowing that I can and will have her near, no matter the distance.

"life can be lived in black and white. but it is the bursts of color that inspire you to do more, be better, live differently. you can call those your infrared moments where you see something in yourself that others can’t see. and sometimes that color is so vivid and bright, you can’t help but follow your dreams and hope that the end result is exactly as it should be."

Well said, ma belle.

Click here for the full post, and to be blessed with more of her curatorial genius.

,

Translating the language of the mind and heart into the language on the page
is not always easy for me. I feel and experience so many things I don't think I come close to expressing, honoring, with the written word. But I keep trying, in hopes that I'll get better and better.

I've been doing a lot of this offline lately, starting and stopping, getting to a certain point and then wondering "what now". I still write to publish, aiming to make things succinct and rounded out at the end, and perhaps that's the problem. With that approach, I might not ever grow beyond the precipice, go beyond my astute and enjoyable yet limited observations. I feel the need to write more now, to expand, and I am not so sure how. That is what the Fall is for I suppose. Write on.

The desire to expand on my writing is but one extension of a yearning core, a desire for more in my life, in all areas. My relationships, my profession, my physical space. I have experienced moments like this in the past and I know how to get through them, how to come out triumphant and further evolved. But somehow it's seeming harder. No longer junior in my career, no longer up for meaningless romps and romance, the stakes are higher, the prize is harder won. And I'm weary sometimes of the constant achieving of it. It's hard for me to say this, but I don't always know what to do. And the things I do know, I am sometimes afraid to do. So what now.

Like in my writing there is a comma here... ,
and I know it's mostly up to me to fashion what words, what truths come after.
A reality I both shy away from and cherish.

A Shift

Something changed
tonight
and my Summer has begun.
Slow coming,
but it's here.
Carefree and spinning,
like this spirited image.























Here's to shedding what weighs,
embracing what remains,
having fun with it.

Uncle Elmer Turns 100

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” N.Mandela

A quote I gleaned this morning from a friend, and a truth that suitably frames my trip home this weekend to celebrate the 100th birthday of my Uncle Elmer. I only found out about my Uncle Elmer some 4 years ago, when I was home in DC for the weekend with my boyfriend at the time. I'd informed my Father that we'd be leaving early on Sunday to head back to NYC. He was furious. How could I miss Uncle Elmer's birthday, how could I be so dismissive? I remember an intense feeling of injustice. I didn't even know who this Man was; my Father had never mentioned an Uncle Elmer until that very moment. Or maybe he had, I just hadn't listened.

I have selfishly harbored these feelings of being unjustly accused, if even passively, since then. Feeling like a bad daughter, a bad great-great-great-niece for not being aware, instinctually, of his existence or the importance of these occasions, I have kept my distance.

This Spring a friend, who was doing research on Juneteenth and the experience of recently freed slaves in 1860s Texas, jumpstarted a memory. Of my Father's tales of our very own family who, newly freed in Virginia, migrated to Texas and somehow acquired 2,000 acres of land, and how that land had oil on it. Of a book published by my Uncle Rick Hyman entitled My Texas Family : An Uncommon Journey to Prosperity, which features oral histories and historical paintings based on some 300 black and white photos from that period that he found tucked away in a box. My Father gave me a copy of that book when it was published in 2000. When I called him to ask about it this May, he told me it still rests on my nightstand, it's been there for years.

I'm going home to get that book this weekend, and to talk to Uncle Elmer, who I've realized is from that very branch of the family, one of the last living members from that chapter in my family's history. I feel silly when I think about the time I've wasted. Thanks to strong genes and uncanny health (Uncle Elmer still lives alone and will be driving himself to his party on Sunday), I still have a chance. And I'm going to take it this time.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Elmer.

Kwesi Abbensetts

Kwesi Abbensetts - friend, fellow Brooklynite, infinitely talented photographer - does it again. Just look at the grain and texture in these images from his most recent story. His black and white breathes life despite the absence of color. His color evokes a distinctive, smoky, sultry essence that's all his own. I can't wait to find the right project to book him for; the world of advertising could use his grace.

Good work, Man. Keep blessing us with your eye, with your beauty.

(click on the images to see them in their full glory)

(my favorite..)

For more of his work, check out his photo blog.

Bedtime

The bed is the canvas for our dreams, the backdrop against which we bridge the dream world and the physical world. I have no idea how much I move in my sleep, no one has ever told me. I only hope I dream (and live) as vividly as this woman.

Sweet dreams, and sweet journey tonight.

On the Street Where You Live

The stories that lurk behind closed doors in some neighborhoods often sit perched on stoops in Brooklyn. Yet one can still go years living as an intimate stranger. This NYT article, on the inhabitants of South Elliott Street between Dekalb and Lafayette Avenues in Fort Greene, has certainly revealed me as a hobbit when it comes to my immediate community.

I'm social, no doubt. You'll often find me on my front steps on a Saturday or Sunday morning, newspaper splayed, with designs on the adjacent farmer's market and park. But my companions are usually imports, brought in from other corners of Brooklyn, other boroughs, even other countries. And, on many an afternoon, my cheeks have turned brighter than the rosé we sip when a neighbor passes by. Not just from merry intoxication, but also embarrassment. I know many faces but few names. (Come to think of it, I rarely think to ask for names. Until now it's been enough to call them, "my neighbor.") This has caused many an awkward moment. Me hiding behind a gushy sip, aptly timed to fill the awkward silence. My neighbors choosing to either introduce themselves or wander off in a cloud of mystery cast by my absent-minded rudeness. A scenario that's repeated itself way too often, I'm now realizing.

The profiles featured in this article, and the colorful, diverse characters they showcase, have me curious about those I live amongst and have yet to truly engage with. There are stories to be told, histories to be shared, connections to be made all up and down my street and on every street. It's just a matter of listening, of opening oneself up.

In a city of "go" and "me," that can be the hardest part. But, in a city with one of the most vibrant narratives in the world, it's worth the effort.

Take Flight

This video of one of the most beautiful stars in my solar system, miss KALALEA, has put a smile all over my face this morning. And how could it not? Especially sprinkled with the colorful commentary of another ardent constellation, miss NILEA P.

Alongside these two women, it's impossible to stay on the ground for long.

Thank you, Darlings. For lighting up my life every single time. For your energy, for you fearlessness, for your love. Take FLIGHT (and take me along next time, hear?).

Você

a little romance for a monday night, masquerading as a sunday night, flirting like a saturday. por você.

art lust

I had to re-post this beautiful image from Stephanie Baptist's photo and art blog, thisisaphototest.

Mustafa Maluka, I can’t believe you think that of me, 2007

This gorgeous exercise in arresting contours and vibrant color belongs over my bed. One day.

Last Day

After 3 frantic days of shooting an ad campaign in the streets of NYC, we've arrived at our last day. Thankfully we're in a loft this morning. A quite well appointed one with a perched heaven of a master suite, exposed bath, manicured terraces on each side and all. And this music streaming throughout, soothing the nerves of my anxious Creative Director and head strong Photographer.

Thank you for this moment of respite, Nancy. Your lyrics are scandalous but your trills are sweet.