Living Arrows

The wintry darkness has passed and my skateboard adventures in Brooklyn are underway. I didn’t...

Thu, 11 Apr 2013 14:49:00 -0400

The wintry darkness has passed and my skateboard adventures in Brooklyn are underway. I didn’t have to skate too far to find what is arguably the most fascinating structure in Greenpoint- a 1903 erected public bath. I initially had a jejune response to its interior- a windowless workshop- but after chatting with the proprietor, Luis, I was absorb by the entire scene.

The number of public bathhouses in Brooklyn once crested at five. They were reportedly a solution to a public health need in overcrowded cities. I’m not a fan of public bathing facitilies, but I definitely love limestone columns. The baths were all closed by 1960 and auctioned off. Luis bought the Huron Street bath twenty years ago and uses it as a workshop to make picture frames while renting the upstairs to two artists. When I left him a note in the mailbox slit of his door asking to tour the structure, I imagined it would be teeming with flowers and fountains. I was amused to walk into his office, surrounded by 22 carat gold picture frames, walls of wooden blocks, and a miasma of dust.

We happily conversed in a desultory fashion about art appreciation, immigration, Colombian food, Guyana, health, money, and rent. The wintry darkness has passed.

Only the everyday raconteurs at The Moth StorySLAM could present a soporific story about fibbing...

Tue, 26 Feb 2013 17:49:00 -0500

Only the everyday raconteurs at The Moth StorySLAM could present a soporific story about fibbing and translate that into “I tell lies because there was no communication in my childhood home.” Last night my brain was a bit addled by lack of sleep, but my attraction to storytelling never seems to pall.

It’s a powerful image: full access to the written word from a room covered in book pages. The...

Fri, 19 Oct 2012 11:50:00 -0400

It’s a powerful image: full access to the written word from a room covered in book pages. The installation, Pablo Lehmann’s “The Scribe’s House”, aptly complements a Saul Williams’ quote I read a few years ago- only through new words might new worlds be called into order.

I often write motivational pablum on paper and tape it to my walls. Presently, one of the papers reads “Be Aleeka.” and it serves as a daily reminder to relax. I like Lehmann’s idea of covering a room with the pages of discarded books, creating a flow of words that can’t be read or assembled into sentences. It’s as if he created a tactile language for the imaginary boarder. Imagine if instead of tombstones, mausoleums were just covered in all the books we’ve read? That would be a better reflection of me than any eulogy could afford.

The most fascinating thing about books is that your opinions on characters change as you age. Characters you once thought were evil, can surprisingly be deemed … lost. Like a milquetoast soldier approaching a battleground, I walked towards “The Scribe’s House” knowing that what I felt about books would change once I saw Pablo’s new world.

The “Scribe’s House” is available for free viewing at Anthropologie on 50 Rockefeller Plaza.

CLICKtivism- To help modern society, we have to use the tools of the present.

Tue, 25 Sep 2012 20:40:00 -0400

Even a man who lives in complete social isolation and cherishes a solipsistic view on life would dare not deny the definite evidence of technology’s distinctive effect on modern communication. Social media and mobile apps are, by their own reckoning, a way for new communities to address old problems in new ways.

During a recent trip to visit my family in South America, I couldn’t help but marvel at my cousins who were signing onto Facebook as I remembered how difficult it was for me to shower that morning. (We ran out of water and someone had to fetch more water from the lake.) It was a priority for me to have a decent shower. It was my cousins’ priority to “friend” me. Technology’s redoubtable and addictive properties will sometimes challenge our priorities but, above all, it truly is a great tool for “finding the others”.

It’s not really about connecting with friends or for braggadocios to post attractive pictures of themselves, it’s for crowd sourcing solutions. Young Kenyans were pioneering the use of text messaging to monitor political conflict in 2010. There are now mobile apps for blood sample analysis, even though women in developing countries are 21% less likely than men to own a mobile phone. Can social media help us move toward democratization?

This past weekend’s Social Good Summit presented and parsed topics and questions like the one above. There were also summits in several other countries and attendees were shown videos of other meetups in Greece, New Zealand, Montenegro, Egypt, and Myanmar. We learned about concepts like Shared Value, innovative websites like ShoutAbout, and new mobile app challenges. It was a summit that marketed humanitarian organizations as we concurrently learned how terrible humanitarians are at marketing.

The speakers at SGS truly distilled the values of corporations and NGOs who are coming together for social impact:

Todd Park, Chief Technology Officer of the United States, described his work in the White House as being an incubator of initiatives, not companies. He talked about the Open Data Initiative. He focuses on open innovation and the desire to make new data available and unavailable data usable/downloadable. He reminded us that Government’s decision to make the global positioning system freely available is what fueled private sector innovations like navigation systems (GPS).

I enjoyed the thoughts of Larry Irving, Co-founder of Mobile Alliance for Global Good. He discussed being connected with a purpose and recited this rarely publicized quote by MLK Jr. - “A great revolution is taking place in the world today…a technological revolution, with the impact of automation and cybernation…yes, we do live in a period where changes are taking place.”

Another highlight was Dr. Hans Rosling’s lecture. If you’ve also watched his TED talks, then you can imagine how excited I was to see him live. He reminded us not to think of developing countries as one place. There are so many different levels of development.

He also had a very impressive pointer.

Deepak Chopra mesmerized the room when he told us that social networks are an extension of our mind. He advised us to create dynamic networks that self-organize themselves.

Here are a few more quotes from more notables, followed by my favorite tweets from the summit:

Actress America Ferrera

Actor Forest Whitaker with Ericsson CEO Hans Vestberg

Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano talks to ForbesWomen President Moira Forbes (I was so impressed with Moira’s questions.) They talked about cyber security, regulation, and shared responsibility.

I was also captivated by Arturo Sarukhan, the Ambassador of Mexico to the U.S. He has a very arresting presence.

For further resources, please visit the website for Grand Challenges, Half the Sky, We Advance U, 10X10, and Connect To Learn. Connect to Learn is a global initiative designed by Hans Vestberg and the inimitable Jeffrey Sachs (below).

All photos taken by me (Aleeka Kay Edwards)

“‘When you are that serious and that creative, and non-trusting on an intimate level, and your art...

Fri, 10 Aug 2012 19:39:53 -0400

“‘When you are that serious and that creative, and non-trusting on an intimate level, and your art has given you so much, your ability to create becomes your medicine,’ she said. ‘It’s the only thing that’s given you that stability, that joy, that self-esteem. And so you are like, “This part of me no one is going to touch.” When you’re young, that works, because it gets you from A to B. When you get older, when you are trying to have a family and children, it doesn’t work. I think that some artists can be prone to protecting the well that they fetched their inspiration from so well that they are actually protecting malignant parts of themselves, too. You begin to see that something is broken. It’s not just a matter of being the mythological lone wolf; something is broken.’”

I imagine ateliers everywhere are occupied by confused people; people obsessing over their art while...

Thu, 07 Jun 2012 12:45:00 -0400

I imagine ateliers everywhere are occupied by confused people; people obsessing over their art while avoiding the specter of debt. You sacrifice a lot to be an artist, mostly financial security and sanity. Steven Mcgaughey created this website to keep a semblance of art in his life while in medical school. He promised himself that he would continue to sketch and doodle everyday. It is seemingly his panacea to keeping art in his life as he struggles with ~~finding~~ creating himself.

In “Gastric Subway” (below), his love of design and his passion for medicine live in perfect comity on the overcrowded web. I’m so happy I stumbled onto his work. It’s very rare you come across something so clever:

Great concert last week by the trumpeter/conguero/flugelhorn...

Tue, 05 Jun 2012 19:08:00 -0400

Great concert last week by the trumpeter/conguero/flugelhorn player at Blue Note Jazz Club. It was Latin Jazz at its best. I miss the personalities of New Orleans musicians; men who would have probably doffed Mr. Gonzalez’s fedora and used it to fan themselves or to collect the saliva drip from their mouthpieces. I miss that rapture…but the sui generis sound of Gonzalez and his band is equally as passionate.

Cerulean sky above me, open water below me, and alacrity within me. My ride on the East River Ferry...

Sun, 03 Jun 2012 22:58:00 -0400

Cerulean sky above me, open water below me, and alacrity within me. My ride on the East River Ferry to Governors Island was the most insouciant adventure I’ve had in months. It was so relaxing. I drifted away from a city of harried business people who were probably scurrying from one office to the other. My feet were shod in sneakers for a 5k race around the island and the sweet tunes from last night’s Radiohead and Caribou concert were still ringing in my ears.

I remained sanguine about my chances of winning the race, even though I never exercise. Never. Still, I felt as though if I really wanted to win I could. That was a delusion. I was at the back of the pack and incapable of overhauling even the oldest of runners. My handsome friend, Daniel Alvarez, remained the cynosure of all eyes on the field when it was announced that he was the second place winner.

We played with my football and then traipsed from one picnic site to another, looking for the post-race celebration. As we sat and joked, in that moment I was completely happy with my life and the people in it.

It would require less than the fingers of one hand to count the number of poems that make me as...

Thu, 24 May 2012 18:10:00 -0400

It would require less than the fingers of one hand to count the number of poems that make me as teary eyed as this Sarah Williams’ poem. I’ve been engaged by it all week and even when I try to invest my mind into other things or secure a modicum of lightheartedness, nothing that has been tried satisfies. I can’t stop picturing coronas of stars and headstones.

The Old Astronomer To His Pupil

Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, — I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then till now.

Pray, remember, that I leave you all my theory complete,
Lacking only certain data, for your adding as is meet;
And remember, men will scorn it, ’tis original and true,
And the obloquy of newness may fall bitterly on you.

But, my pupil, as my pupil you have learnt the worth of scorn;
You have laughed with me at pity, we have joyed to be forlorn;
What, for us, are all distractions of men’s fellowship and smiles?
What, for us, the goddess Pleasure, with her meretricious wiles?

You may tell that German college that their honour comes too late.
But they must not waste repentance on the grizzly savant’s fate;
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.

What, my boy, you are not weeping? You should save your eyes for sight;
You will need them, mine observer, yet for many another night.
I leave none but you, my pupil, unto whom my plans are known.
You “have none but me,” you murmur, and I “leave you quite alone”?

Well then, kiss me, — since my mother left her blessing on my brow,
There has been a something wanting in my nature until now;
I can dimly comprehend it, — that I might have been more kind,
Might have cherished you more wisely, as the one I leave behind.

I “have never failed in kindness”? No, we lived too high for strife, —
Calmest coldness was the error which has crept into our life;
But your spirit is untainted, I can dedicate you still
To the service of our science: you will further it? you will!

There are certain calculations I should like to make with you,
To be sure that your deductions will be logical and true;
And remember, “Patience, Patience,” is the watchword of a sage,
Not to-day nor yet to-morrow can complete a perfect age.

I have sworn, like Tycho Brahe, that a greater man may reap;
But if none should do my reaping, ’twill disturb me in my sleep.
So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;
See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;
Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:
It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars, —
God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t now include one of my own poems. I have a book of poems that I wrote. At one point I wanted to print them and distribute pamphlets to the homeless.

Vents, tirades, release

Explosions and eruptions

Corrugated panels flatten at the roar of childlike tantrums

Spreadsheets of wishful thinking

Excel

Spitting out rants and gargling thoughts

In order to lather conditions

Start pulling strands of fiber from drains that suck effervescence

Fall forward into flames of the unheard

Marking darkness with release

Though the bar crowds are no more enjoyable, I’ve grown...

Sun, 20 May 2012 16:52:00 -0400

Though the bar crowds are no more enjoyable, I’ve grown sufficiently inured to it. I prefer intimate gatherings with common people who speak with forethought and lay their tables with an amazing array of homemade viand. Nonetheless, I went to two bars yesterday…two more than I usually go to on the weekends. It was a big day for UEFA futbol, so I whiled away the hours watching Chelsea win the Champions League on a mute tv screen at Woodworks in Brooklyn.

Before I set off for my second outing, I dropped by my dear friend’s apartment for a moment of normalcy. Spending time with Faizah Malik is always enjoyable, especially yesterday when she introduced me to my new favorite documentary- Helvetica. I highly recommend this Gary Hustwit film about typeface and messaging. Most of the fonts used in signage, magazines, and even this blog are in Helvetica.

These are some of my favorite quotes from the movie:

* “It’s not about the black of the font, it’s about the white space between the letters. Much like music, which is not about the notes but the timing created by the space between the notes.”

* “Helvetica is everywhere. It’s a socialist font.”

* “Helvetica has a push and pull feeling. It makes you feel as if all your problems are contained, or maybe don’t exist at all.”

Spectral looking and fueled by nothing, Ms. Perkins walked towards me and I almost gasped at the...

Mon, 14 May 2012 19:20:00 -0400

Spectral looking and fueled by nothing, Ms. Perkins walked towards me and I almost gasped at the condition of her face. Neither sunglasses nor clumps of makeup could cover the discoloration surrounding her eyes. Still, she was as lively as ever as she told me why she needed a ride to the doctor. I see her only about once every two years but I make an effort to keep in contact. Hanks of her grey hair were the only distraction from her shocking appearance and demeanor, which was both dependent and aggresively active at once.

My mother met Ms. Perkins in C-Town grocery store when I was ten years old and seduced her into giving me and my sisters piano lessons for practically free. We didn’t learn until months later that she was a seasoned piano and violin playing prodigy who once had a salable name- Gloria Perkins.

I slogged away at piano; practiced for hours. I wasn’t musically inclined like my younger sister but I was diligent in my studies. By high school I was uncontrollably peeing on piano stools at musician competitions (this actually only happened once) and by college I was playing in church during the spring breaks. My college essay was titled “Gone Chopin for Music” and I even played a few times for friends at my university until one day when a student at Brown made me realize that I was, in fact, not good enough to be playing near a student at Brown.

Ms. Perkins’ feet were always shod in cute shoes (even though the lessons were held in her own home) and she wore broaches that she hand-made. I wish I still had the broach she designed for me. It didn’t stop there. She is also a brilliant painter. The art gene is riddled throughout her body. It really is all she has. I think I remember her referring obliquely about a man she dated but it must not have been a real love since I never caught her looking off into space, daydreaming…missing. She wore makeup, yes. Always wore makeup. But this was not for a man, it was for us. So much so that the one time we went to her house unnannounced, I recall she didn’t even open the door .

She lives in the same house she grew up in. By spurning tv and other gadgets, she tricks herself into living in the past. She often references her performances as if they occurred a few days prior when in fact they were decades ago. Years ago she owned dogs but as they died she replaced them with cats. It was her tawny cat that greeted her at the front door when we returned from the doctor’s appointment.

Despite her grievances, she’ll probably live until her hundreds, I predict. Mostly thanks to her life as a nonsmoker, teetotaler,and as a person so far removed from anything unrelated to the arts. So, when all these gimmicks that we live everyday go the way of the dodo, Ms. Perkins would have known no different as she never paid attention to them in the first place.

” Affairs of the heart come and go, and so do life and death…but music just continues.”- unknown

Ten-year-old violin prodigy Gloria played with the National Symphony Orchestra

Ms. Perkins now (almost 90 years old)

Pilgrim Postcard model: the beautiful Alejandra Cerna...

Fri, 11 May 2012 08:43:00 -0400

Pilgrim Postcard

model: the beautiful Alejandra Cerna Rios

photographer: Aleeka Kay Edwards

(no special effects added)

Not surprising: “If you educate a girl in the developing world,...

Wed, 09 May 2012 17:40:59 -0400

Not surprising: “If you educate a girl in the developing world, you educate five people. On average, five people get educated because if you educate one girl, then she will educate at least four other people through the course of her life.”

VERY engaging presentation on the importance of girls learning technology.

Ensconced in my bed this morning, I watched this Matt Box...

Wed, 09 May 2012 08:04:16 -0400

Ensconced in my bed this morning, I watched this Matt Box animation at least ten times. I somewhat resembled a sentient puppet waiting for the stage music to guide me into productivity. I couldn’t stop replaying the video. I lived and died in the same moment…afraid to move onto the next thing. This creation is so calming.

I bought my first skateboard (I’ve had three sector nine boards in the past six years) when I was 23 and living in Los Angeles. I have an almost tactile memory of the first time I stepped on a board. That feeling of freedom and serenity is almost unmatched. Matt’s video above evokes that happiness and longing. Back to watching…

Email Matt at matthew-box@live.co.uk if you’d like to collaborate with him :)

I was greeted by a smell that must have been an amalgam of soiled pants, sweaty...

Tue, 08 May 2012 11:51:00 -0400

I was greeted by a smell that must have been an amalgam of soiled pants, sweaty palms, and saved periodicals.

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the classroom were the ajar windows, clearly an indication that the professor was met by the same stench. I attended the Henry George School of Social Science earlier in the week to take a free economics course. It was enjoyable so I returned on this particular Friday night to hear another free lecture. There were about 40 people in the room, all seemingly oblivious to the smell. They appear anxious for the lecture to begin and I notice their shoulders are curled forward from the heaviness of their weighty thoughts. These students are much older than I, they have slight accents, and they are certainly poor but none are mendicants. They’re not seated here to cadge a meal, beg for a job, or mooch. They are here to learn. Somehow they manage to be extremely attentive students while also still invested in their own ruminations.

Inside of ten minutes, I left my mid-section seat and walked to stand at the back of the classroom. I wasn’t running from the stench, even though I did realize I was unfortunately sitting in the same row as the lead emitter. Instead, I had to find another seat because the occasional “mmm hmms” from the crowd and the erratic head nodding of the woman next to me was such an overwhelming kinetic act and unlike any other experience I’ve had in a classroom. They don’t wait for the instructor to finish his screed before they comment and they comment in decibels that hurt my eardrums. They long for this free education. It is obviously the highlight of their day.

You would think their senectitude would cause them to be more carefree, but they care about government laws and sustainable development as much as the young protesters occupying the streets. Oh, do they care. There is even the regular attendee who enjoys proselytizing in the corner. A man too agitated to take a seat. He doesn’t hide his feelings that failed health care programs are, to him, a galling setback to his career plans. I’ve been thinking a lot about where the hungry go to learn. Sure, we can all be autodidacts and teach ourselves by reading the newspaper but classrooms are still the safest place to recapitulate what you read; to ensure you understood what you read.

Conterminously, I’ve been thinking about the recent news that Cooper Union College, after 110 years of free education, will start charging graduate students. These students will probably pay for this education. Most of them have probably never heard of the free economics courses at the Henry George School, and they probably never will. It’s a small building and an even smaller classroom. I have yet to meet anyone else who is aware that it even exists. But it’s okay… because those students at Henry George have formed their own community.

Vintage: My beautiful younger sister in elementary school

The colorful feast in this ring display case, that I recently made for my sister using a discarded...

Sun, 06 May 2012 13:07:36 -0400

The colorful feast in this ring display case, that I recently made for my sister using a discarded box, can put the infelicities of the week in shadow.

This week my love for color themes led me to the work of a very fertile designer named Justina, whose indefatigable blog postings made me smile. Variously a designer, artisan, and stylist, Justina Blakeney is an expert at playing with colors and forms. Your mood vibrates when looking at her creations and concepts, if not overwhelmed with envy for her winning vividness.

photo of Justina by Kim Grisco

She calls her home a Jungalow and describes it as bringing nature indoors. It’s bohemian and tropical, vintage and cozy. It volcanically highlights creative reuse, bright colors, bold patterns, worldly finds, and plants.

Each click thru on her blog, gallery, and even the gift wrap ideas using leaves on her flickr account echo her imaginative ascendance.

View her Jungalow below, starting with the side table she upcycled using fabric and upholstery tacks. Her talent is hard to reduce.

The first thing you notice when you meet Matthew is his skin. Yesterday morning I had prepared...

Fri, 04 May 2012 12:23:33 -0400

The first thing you notice when you meet Matthew is his skin. Yesterday morning I had prepared myself for our sit-down by reading his hagiography on the Harvard website. From his picture on the website I didn’t glean how luminous his skin is, so inviting even under the shade of his worn baseball cap. His pearl skin was dotted with a few red patches which made me even more curious about where he’s been and all that he’s seen. Matthew Bonds was leaving for Rwanda soon but we were meeting to talk about the work I’m doing for his company. I’m creating their website and launching their social media campaign.

Matt has his PHD in both ecology and economics. He joined the Harvard faculty after a fellowship in sustainable development at Columbia University, where he was mentored by Jeffrey Sachs (gasp). He analyzes the relationship between ecology and economic development and focuses on how health care can promote economic growth in poor regions. In Rwanda he works with Partners in Health to measure socioeconomic impacts. I wanted to eat him whole; parse everything that he was about to tell me.

I asked so many questions. At first my questions revolved around his company, since that was the purpose of our sit-down. (To create the website, even though I’ve read the facts, I wanted to get a face-to-face sense of the public weal.) Then I jumped right into personal questions. I wanted to know everything about his career path.

Then I told him a few reasons why I was so actively transitioning careers and why I loved international development. He had, of course, never watched an Anderson Cooper segment. I didn’t dare mention Wendy Williams. Nonetheless, he made a few statements that I found to be so insightful.

1. “The funny thing about fame is that it’s amplified the closer you get to it.”

So true. Most people who work in media still obsess over hosts and taking pictures with celebrities to post on their blogs/twitter. It’s interesting. You would think that because it’s their job they would be less sycophantic.

2. “It’s so much more fun to be stressed out about things you genuinely care about.”

While it’s stressful for me to be transitioning into a career in international development, it’s also fun to be meeting someone like Matthew and inhaling his wisdom. I rather be doing this than writing a research packet on a crazy woman who takes her toddler tanning.

3. “It’s never too late.”

Matt said his sister went to medical school at 33 years old. She’s 38 now and just starting her residency. It was kind of him to tell me her story.

It’s been a rainy week but I definitely have seen the light.

Loving this video on the relationship between poverty...

Tue, 01 May 2012 16:25:45 -0400

Loving this video on the relationship between poverty alleviation and population growth.

I love how photographer Shanna Allyn controverts the...

Mon, 30 Apr 2012 10:02:26 -0400

I love how photographer Shanna Allyn controverts the sexualization of women by transforming ingenues into modern day gargoyles. It would require less than the fingers of two hands to count the number of artists who provide such intelligent visual commentary on women. Her merger of beauty and the beast is stimulating and in the same vein as Jean Michael Basquiat’s Mona Lisa.

RoundPegg strengthens companies by optimizing the skills of...

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 13:02:00 -0400

RoundPegg strengthens companies by optimizing the skills of their employees. It’s the proto-eHarmony for Jobs… finding the most compatible employer and employee to build the best relationship. Swoon. Answers to three assessment tests allow them to profile the values, personality traits, and communication styles of a staff. The end goal being that every hire fits a company’s culture and team dynamic. RoundPegg boasts improved employee performance and reminds clients that companies with strong, well-aligned cultures are six times more successful than their competitors.

I mention this as a prologue to the oil paintings above because the painter, Valery Estabrook, is one of the few people I know who shares my same values, personality traits, and communication style. My behavior is definitely improved in thanks to her friendship. This painting is my favorite in her collection. I can’t remember the date of my first menstrual cycle but I distinctly remember my grandmother forcing me to eat an egg. She never revealed the purpose and I was too distracted to ask for an explanation. Valery’s renderings master a cheerful disposition of colors and textures, while effecting comfort and my longing for the unheard words of a matriarch. The broken egg shell represents fragility, rebirth, fertility and other mysterious layered meanings. Any further attempt to comment on her skill would risk revealing myself to be a dilettante when I’m simply just a fan of her work…and of her character. For more of her work visit valeryestabrook.com