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Tag Archives: Sky

A little meditative walk on Sunday does my eyes some good.

Some where over the rainbow, way over in LA, via British Vogue, the little blue gingham dress is up to fetch two hundred thousand USD. In my dreams, I think I’ll buy some cotton gingham, and make myself and updated classic – for next Spring.

You Decide:

Goals in life now include:

1. Learning to tango

2. Owning a dress in the colors of the woman in this video.

3. Finding a man to tango with

4. traveling to cool and colorful places to tango.

(also reminds me of the strategic color placements in costumes and scenery of the Umbrellas of Cherborg – check out the trailer!)

Not really sure how I even stumbled on this site, but sure glad a did.  Out of all, I chose these to re-post as I loved the red nails on the women who were hard at work at this time.  They are strong and beautiful, and not just because of the red nail polish, but because they took pride in their work and themselves.

Please take the time to check out all of the amazing photographs.

“The photographs are the property of the Library of Congress and were included in a 2006 exhibit Bound for Glory: America in Color.”

One of the most basic necessities of living is shelter.  How one feels about their home can make all the difference between how one treats themselves and others.  The color of our homes has the power to transform ones’ life in it.  Jeroen Koolhaas and Dre Urhahn of Favela Painting, have pursued the art of transforming lives one paint can at a time.  They are indeed savoring the colors of life!  I’m a fan!

I’m also happy to report that this is a trend in other places in the world.

The skies were just so beautiful and blue yesterday in SOHO. See the reflections of the clouds on the windows?  Dreamy!

I can’t help myself.  But I just LOVE the colors this new re-design of the BP logo.  May all your travels this weekend (somehow) be petroleum free.

New Logo as seen on Greenpeace via Gawker.

Work above by Byron Kim as shown at the MOMA in 2008.

Today I walked to and from my Clinton Hill apartment to Atlantic Center.  About a twenty-minute walk.  On any normal day it is a most convenient commute that I enjoy by foot.  Today was not a normal day.  It is never a normal day the first scorching hot day of the year in New York City.  As I walked, I momentarily forgot that I had chopped off my hair that used to cover my neck, but the sun quickly reminded me that I had forgotten sunscreen, even on my face, a ritual I rarely forget.  I thought about all the skin tones my body might endure during the time of this walk.  My Irish freckles were becoming more apparent before my very eyes to a darker more prominent brown.  My shoulders a rosy shade of pink.  I know it’s shade by the feeling of it before I even see it, when I raise my arm and the shoulder skin wrinkles and has that tingly and dry feeling, then I know it’s pink before I even look at it.

I remembered the painting above that I’d seen at the MOMA two years ago by Byron Kim which consists of 265 panels of color – an exploration of one persons skin colors.  This stunning study begs of us never to categorize or label ourselves by skin color alone, we are simply much more than meets the (untrained) eye.  However, I’m equipped with sunscreen for tomorrow, in the advent of more pretty, but uncomfortable colors.

A few and many moons ago I met Maria Flores,  free-spirited adventurer, writer, artist, and photographer.  When I saw some of her photos from a recent trip to India, I asked her to write something for this blog.  Above her lovely photographs, and below her story.  She is available via e-mail at: manninoflores (at) yahoo (dot) com.

Thank you Maria for your contribution!


India: A Color-Loving Traveler’s Love

Sometime during the economic downturn, I was fortunate enough to lose my job at a well-known art museum in the City. This led to another even more fortunate opportunity for me to do the unthinkable and travel to India just like I’d always wanted. My long-awaited destination isn’t the kind you should visit on a two-week paid vacation. It is one you slowly relish for months (or even better, years) at a time. So, naturally, I took my pittance of a savings account, exchanged it all for rupees, and got on a one-way flight to New Delhi.

Landing in that mad yet mesmerizing place was just the start of them, my sweet little love affairs. As the months passed, I officially consummated my loves with: all nationalities of fellow male travelers (yes, way, but I don’t kiss and tell!); an ancient culture that thrives in every recess of the crusty, shit-smelling streets; and, above all, the COLOR that permeates the entire subcontinent.

Arrival was just the beginning. At first, the onslaught of vividness was too much for this Midwestern girl, accustomed to the grays and beiges of corn fields and sprawling highways. After the first frightened week, a wicked bout with Delhi Belly, and the realization that one must give oneself over to the madness and beauty of it all, I noticed that the tropical and musty light isn’t like it is in the States. Sure, the air is thickly polluted, the Taj Mahal just a Moghul skewer stuck in gelatin-thick smog. The pavement is strewn with inconceivable amounts of droppings and dregs, cracked and straddling the open sewer below. The beds may already or soon will have bedbugs. But there is no millimeter of that country that isn’t celebrated, made sacred, or hand-painted with color.

One can travel 200km by railway and de-board in a new state with an entirely different language, alphabet, and cuisine.  Aside from being mad little nuances to keep long-term travelers on their toes, these worlds apart are stunning marinades of over 9,000 years of fast-paced cultural ups and downs, political invasions, and cluster fucks of Reality. I’d go as far as to say that the only commonality between the widely varied chaos that is Hindustan is its revered appreciation and skilled harnessing of color. A large part of the Indian consciousness, color not only marks daily life, but it influences it too. Goods carriers, rickshaws, chai stalls, dhabas, saris, temples, matchboxes — you name it — everything is colorful. Each suggests a unique sensuousness and intimacy between the people and their objects. Demanding attention from the countless Hindu gods and goddesses, and the color-loving traveler alike.

So, gather one billion people with their own love affairs with color, pack them into overcrowded litter-laden streets, pummel them with harsh monsoons for six months of the year, and then put purely toxic and brightly colored powders and dyes in their impassioned hands. The result: Holi, arguably the coolest, most raucous celebration ever sanctioned by a culture in human history, and is perhaps the only festival of its kind to utilize the power of color.

A rowdy annual hue-and-cry parade of vivid earth tones, classic pastels, and clamorous neons, this phenomenon is a springtime festival celebrated mostly by Hindu and Sikh practitioners, but can be enjoyed by anyone with a love for the coming of spring and, of course, color. Fresh of the plane and hating the fact that my visa expired just before the actual Holi day, I celebrated in Richmond Hill, Queens. See you there next year.