Showing posts from November, 2016

Personal Style: On A Windy Autumn Afternoon


Autumn Diary: Slow Dancing

I like to think of life as a dance to heartbeats. And by this I mean something quite mind blowing and terrific. The goal is however not to be overwhelmed by the music but to dance consciously unconsciously. To create––not with rigid effort but with the help of a gentle internal guide––steps that complement the beating drum. That makes one sync beautifully with one’s song. For it is your song. The only song that is all yours. It is hard to keep listening and dancing to a song that never leaves you––a song that is you. Noises come, rushing to meet us as music and accompanying them, a false sense of urgency and significance. These deceitful occurrences often convince us that we must dance differently than we ought to. They say our moves are all wrong, too different. That we ought to move in uniformed steps. More quickly, more coldly, more selfishly, more arrogantly. They say imagination is for cats, human beings are brains. They say heart is weak flesh doomed to rot. They say we must sh…

How Happy is the Little Stone by Emily Dickinson

How Happy is the Little Stone
by Emily Dickinson

How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And doesn’t care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.


Photography: A Fine Harvest

pretty dead &                  fragile --- j

Opinion: A Penny For Your Happiness

What is originality if not pieces of the multitude gathered in one? What is culture if not that which gives a sense of belonging and permission to define the original? What is life if not that which is entirely given?––is it not stupefying that the most precious thing one possesses is freely given?And what is choice if not a tool that sculpts the particular from culture? Thus you choose to speak more or listen more, to share thoughtlessly or thoughtfully, to make the screen of your phone your eyes' homepage or throw it into nature and see anew the incomprehensible beauty that is life. Presence has much to do with consciously choosing whether to be happy or to be miserable. And if one chooses happiness, one must choose how often one wishes to be happy, and consequently what the source of one’s happiness ought to be. Should the source of happiness be specific or general? What is specific and and what is general? Should happiness spring from within or without? 
Let’s say every now and…

Mawusi FW16: Nitsowi (In Retrospect)

I want to go back in time and tell my college graduated self, with her billion pimples, that she is right to be secretly happy about not being able to find a job and getting to spend so much time exploring her hobbies. But of course I do not really want to do this; it would take out all the excitement in not knowing. For today, I am sharing here my new collection, Mawusi FW16: Nitsowi: It owes much to my failure to find employment after college, and I owe it my current state of calm and gratitude.
I got the beautiful alpaca yarn for this collection late in July and started knitting, slowly, in August. I finished the last piece on the morning of November 7th, and shot the whole thing that afternoon because I prefer working with natural light; I love its effect on images. Thus I was lucky that the light was very good and the shoot went smoothly. I didn't have to do much editing except a little cropping here and a tiny contrast adjustment there. This collection was a patience experim…

Joy And Sorrow by Khalil Gibran

Then a woman said, Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, ‘Joy is greater than sorrow,’ and others say, ‘Nay, sorrow is the greater.’
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Photography: Autumber? Autumber!

mon nom est Autumber je vis à Autum Ber mon plat préféré est au tum ber quand je serai grand, je veux être aut-umber
quel est mon nom? oui! merci, c'est Autumber.
- j