testing it all out, putting it all up and out there🤞🏽my thesis exhibit opens tomorrow | cossitt green room | 15-17h 🎞💡🔌
t ŵ ø d å ÿ š⏳| 🚪april 22-26 | 3-5pm | cossitt green room;
[no translation accessible]; a multimedia capstone project by yours truly — the exhibit opens in seven days ✨
it isn't often I feel grounded, let alone in my body. this might be the first time I think I look strong in a way that is beautiful (a strong word in itself). how I aspire? maybe? all dark hair and soft skin, muscle tone and bone structure. I think I am something else. honoured to be part of this particularly special creative vision and process.———————————————————————— "We Make the Banal Feel Spectacular" is a photography series by A. Eskenazi (@swamp_witch_). the gallery is open April 1st-5th from 4-6pm, in Taylor Theatre ! come bedazzled to be dazzled ✨
I'm thrilled to announce my first art print "breathbone" is officially available! write a postcard/lovenote/ode to spring, art up your dwelling, or gift this 14-hour piece to a loved one ✨dimensions are 6x4". dm for sliding scale rates -- paypal and cash options. all inquiries+designs at @avantegardeart.
føurth ŵ ë ē k // mood; grateful for all the ways this body moves, it is (I am?) damn phenomenal.
time for something else #unfuckyourinsides // I’m hypersensitive about food and fitness aka body and all (more commentary on this below). There are days I do amazing and days I can’t. I wasn’t gonna post this photo though it was a great shoot cause I got so anxious bout it. Admitting it is the start and I am determined to learn to love change and find groundedness in my body. In the vein of noting what is digestible, will also be unfucking my feed. It’s not personal, it’s just not helping my growth, periodt✨ ———————————————————————— the Rx lookbook; photographer: Amelia Eskenazi (@swamp_witch_) designer: Charley Dickey (@bycharleydickey) videographers: Lindumuzi Jabu Ndlovu (@jabooe) and Sam Suzuki (@sam_seabass)
For those of you whomst know me, I am quite the thinker. Accordingly, I’ve been thinking a lot about unpaid labour and the capitalist mindset. How even activism needs self-care, because it is draining (and can lead to burnout). How we need both assimilation and resistance for survival (to live). Here’s a #thoughtspiel ✨
There is something about art that is to our bodies as ocean tide is to moon. Curious, impeccably raw, gentil - for growth begins with a「自己的是自己做。」/ what is yours is yours to own, do, take action for. Engaging with no rules, without boundaries, or stepping outside them, a challenge, or a moment of quiet, or something for yourself, is phenomenally powerful. On that note, over the last few months: • I’ve been sketching again • knit cosy scarves and multi-patterned toques (beanies) • wrote, filmed, and edited a movement/poetry project • expanded my ceramics collection of lovely crockery • danced and performed shows —- Here’s that wee reminder to create create create, however that is to you 🍂
What are you? An ode to myself; an ode to twilight moons, to golden-skinned girls. You; strategic button-pusher, tree-climbing whirlwind / you; wearing a seabird fossil around your neck. Star-chaser, I say. Believer of roots grounded galaxies away, in train tracks that forged my iron spine, in midnight escapades and a (re)turn (in)to myself. (poetics bout to politicise personalise prioritise. stay tuned ✨)
Twenty-one and in awe. Thankful to learn people can laugh like love poems unravelled, even - no, especially, amongst dissociation and reeling messiness, etched in radically tired sighs and unapologetically bruised hands and fierce, fierce vulnerability.
Listen: do you hear your heart song calling rebellion melody? What you fear is what will happen when you drink it in. After all / that / glass is full; part water, part air. Vocal c(h)ords tremble your lungs. Hail in the inhale, river the glass upstream, the shattering awaits the wind(ow). Glare the sunlight eclipse, light the breeze a-float the mid-autumnal mo(u)rning. And then, when sky falls to parts - of water, and of air - breaking inklings of dream-edged night particles particular to you, that. That is when it star(t)s.
I think Scotland is a typhoon lightning bolt. Two nights ago I got in a mood, made tea, and walked east in search of the ocean and the stars. Found it surging, inhaled its calm and cold. Still don’t like holding things, still think too quickly for coherence, still feel too much of somewhere else. Still, today I got a book and had a puppy tug hello at my scarf. Feeling roots grow; it seems whirlwinds cannot dismantle the earth that lets it form on its chest.
Alpine thicket rustles the scrambling forest in my head and there is lichen in my hair for the first time in a year and a half. Thank you. I drift the tiredness onto open waters. Some kransekake, a little kubb, quite a bit of s(w)ing-orienteering, and we say goodbye. The bears aren't here anymore either. The eagles, though, they watch. We whisper until dawn. I learn stillness, and the tea gets cold three times. When the sun grounds and shadows reach out, I stay warm.