STAR=RATS

On my way home from a movie, I was eavesdropping on the subway. A group of anxious high school seniors OR college freshmen-- a fledgling bunch still in awe of the sound of their voice--sat directly behind me. There was a conversation of distant girlfriends, where every sentence ended in a question mark, and, even "clubbing" was mentioned. One main player, a boy, was called into question regarding his girlfriend at home and the girl on his arm. He seemed to be concerned and was anxious to chat with her when he returned to his hometown. Le dame au currant was a little deflated, but not defeated and continued to probe for an explanation for his mood. Suddenly voices lowered, tones softened, and passion rose a few notches between the pair. The other three continued their noisy train ride discussion of found objects and other sideshow randomness. The boy and girl murmured their close conversation and everyone listening (only me!) was privy to the innerworkings-- plumbing--of the forbidden love affair. Their whole intention seemed to originate as something slow and new, a flirtatious step up the ladder of dating and maturation. It was obvious that it had gotten away from them.


"Control has left me, and I can't feel another thing."

Fresh and Fertile....fall art FALL!

Infinite Island at the Brooklyn Museum - A sprawling exhibit of 45 artists from 14 Caribbean nations declaring themselves as the rightful owners/originators/sinners of the projected getaway.












Midnight's Daydream at the Studio Museum-- Three male artists-in-residence (Titus Khaphar, Wardell Milan II, Demetrius Oliver) tug aggressively at past marginalized ideals...displaying their relevance. If these are my compadres as I stomp towards the future, I am slightly at ease.


STANDOUT:
WARDELL MILAN's series Battle Royale-- Collaged photos based around Ralph Ellison's boxers The Invisible Man presented as vulnerable objects and players for a captive audience.
masculinity=boxers=puppets=objects=feminine


AND two new shows at the Whitney...

Neither New Nor Correct: New Work by Mark Bradford










collage at 2006 Whitney Biennial









and Kara Walker's My Complement, My Enemy, My Oppressor, My Love. There is a great retrospective written on her by Hilton Als in the most recent New Yorker.

Get to it...some of them will be leaving soon.

--

fetchin'

It is easy to take jabs at people that think highly of themselves. This is something that has been said of me. My thought process in response tends to be, "well if I don't, then who the hell will?" It seems that in recent years and certainly within my generation, humility has been mistaken for self deprecation. Cutting ourselves down to make others feel good. That's not exactly the definition of the word....in fact, it's the complete opposite. Humility should come naturally and shouldn't be some forced behavior we do out of guilt. Statistically, young adutls are pretty heavily medicated for our social and emotional slights, leaving us to second guess ourselves and our surroundings. We boast to get lifted, but then we cry ourselves to sleep at night. Let's eliminate one pill-poppin' step--try basking in the glow of WHO YOU ARE. I feel fortunate that I was raised to relish in my assets--see them as gifts and use them accordingly. Dumbing down for someone's comfort doesn't provide any growth or ascension. And, we mustn't forget that that is why we are here....for the most part.
wink.


Tap into your lovingkindness and let that lead you, but smile broadly and hold your head high in the meantime.