SIR: style.identity.reduxxx.

You can call me Sir.

I am realizing how much character informs my own personal style-- rather than aesthetic. Or therefore, my aesthetic is readily informed by intention. I WANT to provoke a specific thought by the way that I dress. Then you can attach more opinion when engaging my swagger, and therefore my outfit is formed. I wonder if this is the way I create, the way I work....of course, of course.

images, images...

Recently, a coworker (Patricia!) and I simultaneously came to the conclusion that my style is counterintuitive. Over the past two years, I have transgressed, progressed, and assessed my ensemble evolution. I have moved from "urban ballerina" wearing skin tight jeans and varying leo/uni-tards with hi-tops, bucks and chucks...while toting newspapers and slinging lattes for about a year; to "expat dancing detective" when I ran away from home for half of 2009-- living out of suitcases in Europe and the L.E.S. and crashing in the apartments of eclectic strangers. Wardrobe must be mobile on multiple levels--oversized trenchcoats, dark tights, and layered sweaters as coat substitutes. And now, my silhouette portrays "international dance teacher"-- rooted in one spot but certainly living in my figurative "house on a hill"-- producing insight and lesson plans from boyish layers and secondhand mens shoes. The intuition countered could quite possibly be the fight for survival--all perhaps invisible. Ah, yes, but seemingly INVINCIBLE based on appearance.

I sincerely enjoy evoking "character" with my day to day apparel. Call me crazy..or just call me. I love getting dressed and relish in the mysterious results. All abstract, ecstasy pour moi. And, I rally around those that do the same. Step into your wardrobe driver's seat and gravitate towards what you want to wear-- don't plan. Form narrative around what you want to wear, if you wish...

symbols, symbols...cymbals?

The man in the photo exemplifies such. His demeanor exudes more than his white top and bottom offer. Style is just as much about personality as it is about color coordination. The photo is courtesy of the Sartorialist. I hope he doesn't mind. The man in the photo, that is.

4 years later. Stranger on the Road.

7 million dollar settlement for Sean Bell family and two friends involved in Police murder in November of 2006.

Detective Palladino called the settlement laughable and that police were performing their lawful duty.

The officers were acquitted of all charges in June of 2008. I am struggling with resolutions here. It is alarming that this monetary reparation required almost four years--and what's even more unfortunate and is how little this will heal. It ends up driving deeper, the placement and empty value that informs the belabored perspective of black and brown people in America. I am not ungrateful, I am honestly finding it difficult to feel any real pathos on a human (forget social, at this point) level, when justice continues to be impaired.

"I'm just a stranger, traveling on the road. I don't know nobody and I don't know where to go....I'm just a stranger, a long, long, long, long way from home." - Shirley Caesar

Accept loss forever. KEROUAC

murmurations

According to the accordion of current catastrophes I am to unfold as many menageries. On earth. Replicating some symbolic growth on original soil. I taste irrelevance…familiar salt as I awaken again from this non-sleep repeat. Death to the learned me and light on ancient self that remains on my heart shelf. To see in shapes is to miss mistakes and movement lies when frozen inside.

Somehow God had been forgotten—therefore involved, but somehow rotten. I have never attempted to deny and have only been in search of reply…seeking the stars to get me by, standing, MY, decay, all in evidence’s way of shadow and smoke, identifying as a practical joke and creating my own symbol of gracious shape at night I would produce the magic tape hoping to win. And even if I got in-- my story grew scarce. The frown’s just purpose is to reject plastic repairs.

And so I begin the debate surrounding how to NOT wait.
To diminish time right up to the minute is the only way I think I will again GET IN IT.

Refusing to seek some final place, I pray to enjoy my own space.