Bound, bone straight.
Shackles finally soften and fall at my feet, with strands soon to follow.
Rivers of hairitage lap at my back, woven from intermittent, perennial,
and ephemeral streams; with mouths sealed in buckets of boiling runoff.
I yearn for the cool of the ocean.
Through the wire, sweat beads from a muscle’s flex as undulations unravel
beneath the flats of fingers. I send waves crashing like fourth walls;
raining down Mother Nature’s liquids, oils and creams, as She turns winds to water,
clouds to coconut and sunshine to shea.
Weather me undone. Weather me, Oshun.
Weather me, ocean born of braun, not brush;
born of care, not comb; born of serenity, not sulfate.
Ocean as wide as you are deep. As tall as you are vast.
For volume begets volume, and this Sunday is loud and long:
– words by Emma Hanson
my new series, in collaboration with paper artist @misscloudyart
//..pondering the masks we wear in our daily lives – be it online, or in the real world. In a world based on appearances, we tend to mask ourselves, our experiences and our feelings in order to fit into the prescribed societal mold – to belong to a community..//
In the summer, I started an initiative, Age of Aesthetics.
As a way to give back to the community, I offered to creative direct and photograph (pro bono) a young, black designer’s lookbook.
That designer ended up being @emefa_ik for her brand @israellakobla
An amazing team came together to make this possible
Self Portrait 5|09|19
If we’re creating a future that gives more and more weight to the past, then what are we even getting better for?
We’re trying to be God with no idea what it means to be God. Slowly, we are pushing ourselves to self-destruction. Or maybe that was always the plan?
I think community is a stronger and more dangerous force than love… right now