The world sometimes move a bit too fast for us. We generate schedules for ourselves that grow too familiar, and slip into cycles of monotonous habits that somehow rule our daily lives. The construction of time has perhaps limited us to how often we focus on ourselves – the moments spent searching for epiphanies that bend our minds towards enlightenment, and the moments spent acknowledging the world’s beauty that fills us with so much life. All in all, I value the moments in which time ceases to exist. I thrive off conversations in which you areable to see a person’s thoughts unfold, or songs in which the lyrics gently remind you of how wonderful life is. I hike mountains to reach places that entice all my senses, and I act on stages to explore mindsets that differ from my own. I temporarily escape the constraints of time, and find myself only focusing on the present. We need to devote our energy towards embracing the things that bring our world to a giant hult.
Remember in second grade when everyone had to draw out their family tree and bring it to class? Well, I never had much of a family. Growing up, it was always just my mother and I. Rosemary and Spice – the mother daughter pair that, despite our herb-related names, could not have been any more opposite. We were the Virgo and the Aquarius. The yin and the yang.
My mom dyed her hair pink, told me to skip school at least once a week, and owned a cookie company on the Sunset Strip. I hid my face in embarrassment as she would flaunt her latest tattoos, or blast Nina Hagen in the car as we drove down Hollywood Blvd. (Deep down, I always knew she was the “cool” mom.)
When I would come home after school with the instructions for my family tree assignment, I had many questions to ask: What is my great-aunt’s name? Who is married to who? Is my cousin’s name Jessica or Jenna?
“Spice, just make it up,” she insisted. “Be creative.”
And with those words, I froze. She tore down all barriers that I strictly obeyed in school and shined light on a new set of rules for me. I had the power to do things a bit differently. I learnt at a young age to never limit myself to the same box as everyone else. If everyone did exactly what they were told, the world would grow lifeless and dull. Variety is the spice of life, isn’t it?
In this city, you need to find time and escape the confines of the concrete jungle. This is a little video I made at Brighton Beach during Memorial Day weekend.
"Surrealism runs through the streets. Surrealism comes from the reality of Latin America."
Colombia, February 2016
"You should make something. You should bring something into the world that wasn't in the world before. It doesn't matter what it is. It doesn't matter if it's a table or a film or gardening - everyone should create. You should do something, then sit back and say, 'I did that.'"
Yesterday I was just itching to create something, so I did. This little video is the result.
There's always a soundtrack to your life here. Street performers playing their tunes. Subways disrupting conversations. Bands being heard in the distance at Central Park. Each sound wave impacts how you recall that moment in time.
This city is beginning to take shape. When you visit New York for a few days or even a week at a time, a sense of direction never exists; your mind blurs east and west and south and north into one entity. You let the city take control of where you go. But I think it's moments when you know when what subway line to take, or times when you know when to turn left on Spring St., it's those moments that make you feel like you truly belong, and take ownership of where you go - what you do with each new day.
Slyvan Esso + Porches, Celebrate Brooklyn
You were kind. You were a friend. You were a complete stranger.
“You must be an INFJ or an INFP,” my friend Tanya said.
I hadn’t taken the Myers-Briggs personality test in a while, and our conversation sparked my curious as to what it would say.
Lo’ and behold, the letters “INFJ” appeared on the screen. This type is said to be the rarest one – making up less than 1% of the world’s population. It made sense; I constantly feel like the birth child of an extrovert and introvert, I have a hard time trusting people who I first meet, and I choose to help others more often than myself.
Being alone in New York has been a bit overwhelming at times, but has allowed me to truly focus on myself. To understand how I want my free time to be spent. To put myself in unfamiliar scenarios. To learn about wonders I never had the chance to dive into.
Everything seems to be at my fingertips - completely within reach, within touch. And I’m eager to get my hands on all the energy this city has to offer me.