greetings from japan

Paper prayers, geiko dances, and waiting for the ipad =)

on the move

Just moved out of my apartment in the East Village.

portraits of cape town

It used to be that African photography was characterized by the "exotic" or the starving child with the distended belly and flies. Post-1994 apartheid, acclaimed artist Zwelethu Mthethwa focuses on the identity of South Africa--everyday life in rural and urban settings. We see individuals in their own environments, with their families, reminding us that there is more to Africa than its issues, there are its people.

And the saturated color is stunning.

felt things.

Sweet birds, sea creatures, boats, telephones and silverware, Lauri Faggioni's felt objects take on a life of their own. Her work has been featured by Michel Gondry in "The Science of Sleep," and Devendra Banhart's "A Ribbon." Sadly, her store, Lake, in the East Village is no longer with us. 

Hopefully, we'll see more of her children in films.

lost things.

I am absolutely in love with this video by Angela Kohler and Ithyle Griffiths; it combines three of my most favorite things: stop motion animation, vintage knick knacks, and Alison Sudol of A Fine Frenzy. There's so much texture, whimsy, and sense of adventure.

Miss Kohler's other works in her portfolio are also very impressive.

happy summer

[marketplace] Bolga Baskets

Currently *on sale* at Urbanoutfitters.com , beautiful hand-woven baskets from Bolgatanga, Northern Ghana! I definitely see these things around, being sold in boutiques around the Village and many other fair trade organizations. They're perfect for picnics, and the leather handles make them pretty sturdy.

These baskets have a special place in my heart. When I was in Ghana, I had the opportunity to hang out and interview some of the women in a co-op who were making them:


A group of American students, we began our trip in mid-November from the city of Tamale to the Upper Eastern Region of Ghana searching for Baobab trees. Passing a few hazy bushfires and seas of wispy fair-haired savannah grass, we finally came across a most majestic figure; the baobab, perhaps the most quintessentially African tree, stood with its portly trunk laden with fruit, hanging from its root-like limbs. Underneath, we were greeted with yet another surprise, colors. Bright hues of orange, green, and purple leapt into my eyes yet still somehow seemed to be a natural extension of the surrounding landscape.


The bodies which contained these colors were containers themselves of space, baskets. The scene soon became boisterous—interlaid with the baskets were fans, hats, gourds, dancing, and thunderous children with their humble mothers, their laps strewn with straw. Nevertheless, the beauty of the colors, intricacy of the patterns in their grassy-woven bodies, how they play with form and space convinced me that indeed these baskets are art and their creators, artists. 


These artists carry several identities; they are mothers and daughters, “Northerners,” strong African women, but in their society, they are deemed foremost as widows. Although these women have worked hard in perfecting their craft, they are still only known as the basket-weaving widows, which in this region is not only an overwhelming title but a crippling one. Thus, in order to study them as artists, we must not only have an understanding of the evolution of their craft but also their identities as widows, incorporating a dialogue about the pervasiveness of cultural traditions, especially those which continue to violate the rights and dignity of others. Only then could we appreciate their art for both their aesthetic qualities and the personal stories of struggle behind them. 


When the director of Widows and Orphans Ministry, Betty Ayagiba first came to speak to our student group in November, she was particularly distressed. Only moments earlier, a widow had entered her office with a broken arm. Her husband’s family had severely beaten her because she refused to choose a male relative to remarry. The practice of true levirate highlights one of the most controversial customs regarding widows in Ghana. Originating from Biblical times, it involves marrying the younger brother or nephew of the deceased husband to continue having children for that husband because marriage is meant to continue into eternity. Therefore, the widow has little power over her own body. WOM has found that levirate marriages are responsible for the spread of HIV/AIDS to the widows and to young men and also puts a financial strain on the widows for having to take care of so many children. Refusal to remarry often leads to physical abuse. On the one hand, these rituals are steeped in tradition forming an integral part of the cultural fabric for people in this region. However, like female genital mutilation (FGM) and facial scarring, since widowhood rites are discriminatory and oppressive to women, their place in Ghana today should be reconsidered. In Bolgatanga, there is this group of escaped widows who having been rejected by their own communities have come together to form their own community, supporting and finding a family in each other.

During my interview, one widow offered to teach me the basic double-weave technique. She had already completed the base of the round basket and was not weaving stripes of different colors around the different spokes in a circular fashion, building the body of the basket. The materials she uses are elephant grasses from Southern Ghana. They normally grow on riverbanks or swampy areas. After harvesting, they are sun-dried to guarantee a better quality basket. She then dyes them by submerging the grasses into vats of boiling artificial dyes. The weaving process begins by splitting each grass into two halves down the middle. These halves are then twisted together, making them more durable. These straws are then dipped into water, making the weaving process easier. The base begins with twisting together a set of straws to make a structure resembling a spider; individual legs stick out allowing straws to be woven horizontally in and out along the ribs. At the top of the basket, the ribs are pushed flat and a straw is looped around them, creating a rim. Handles, straw or leather, may also be added. Finally, the excess straws sticking out at the bottoms are trimmed. After mastering this process, weavers are free to develop their own patterns, structures, and styles leading to unique colorful and challenging creations. 

It is not difficult to understand why handicrafts like baskets or pottery are termed traditional art. Basketry is a traditional skill; it is traditional in the sense that it immortalized the Ghanaian, even African culture, but the art itself is certainly contemporary. We must give these women credit for being innovative and developing their own individual style, building upon but not simply copying the basketry of centuries past. This begs a further question: what is contemporary art? Does an artwork have to reinvent the wheel or be abstract to be called contemporary or could these baskets be tributes, “containers of memory,” celebrating a long-standing heritage but still being relevant in their own right today.

The women who created these baskets are contemporary, and this struggle between how we wish to divide art into traditional and contemporary reflects the same struggle of these women; it is the traditions surrounding widowhood which wholly encases and defines them, but are they not modern women? Weaving their stories & requires artistic vision and a contemplation of their present situation. If anything there baskets tell the stories to the international community of how they are overcoming a very contemporary issue in their society.

Link to a video of our trip by Jaimie Shaff.

windy lines

Making its way from Gansevoort up to 34th Street in the Meatpacking District, the High Line is a repurposed railway that used to carry freight trains but now, lives on as a public park.

These photos were taken on a particularly windy day, giving the flowers and tall grasses an appearance of rippling waves. What I love most is still being able to see the old rails, to feel the original jungle slowly overtaking our urban one. The High Line is truly a much-needed breath of fresh wilderness splashing through Manhattan's side. It reminds me of Terry Tempest Williams who said: "Why not designate wilderness as an installation of art? ...I cannot live without art. I cannot live without wilderness.” 

Although this "nature as art" concept certainly reflects the High Line, I tend to agree with Anne Matthews, author of Wild Nights: Nature Returns to the City; for her the wilderness is more than a figment of human imagination. Human New Yorkers stare at the skyline and see the full swell of human ingenuity and convenience for “the city is truly home: time spent anywhere else is camping, or exile." In many ways, it is true that mankind has dominated over nature; the city is the ultimate testament to man’s marvel and meddling. For many of us, New York is our fortress. And yet, there is a return of falcons and even coyotes and beneath the city resides estuary, salt marsh, woodland, beach, freshwater river, and prairie--six natural habitats that truly define the city of New York. For me, this attests to the constant struggle and interchangeability between the natural and urban worlds. So when I visit the High Line, I still like to think that its well-groomed "natural elements" are creeping, invading, and engulfing. 

“The natural world [will] redefine a city with guerrilla persistence, reaching and twining in the night, leaf by tendril by thorn…nature exploited every edge, every niche.” 

[marketplace] Of Rags

Buying fabric in Accra was, for me, always an exercise of optimism and possibility. On a top floor of the Kaneshie market, in tin-roofed stalls along major streets, even at a refugee camp, you can find some of the most colorful and imaginative, patterned fabrics--some in tie dye print and others hand stamped with West African Adrinkra symbols. You could get high off of a few yards of the stuff. Seriously.

I remember my housemates and I lived for the days when our lovely seamstress, Marjorie, would drop by to take down orders of our newest design-whims. One of my favorites was an apron pieced together with different swaths, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that Of Rags is offering a sweet dress in a similar style:

Of Rags is a fair trade fashion cooperative that benefits special needs children in Accra, Ghana while creating jobs for the community. On Tuesday, May 25, they're throwing a concept party, featuring their new line at Nuyorican Poets Cafe, 236 East 3rd Street (Between Ave B & C), $5 at the door. For more photos, check out their facebook page.

hi you.

welcome!