Anxiety, loose journals and an idea. Like any and everything, when its all said and done the foundation of all projects can be stripped down to the most obsolete moments. I believe the oldest poem in Nameless: A Post-Traumatic Self was written nearly two years ago, while the last addition is only about a month old. When I look back on my evolution throughout this time period the phases can't really be categorized chronologically and for good reason, that's why all dates were excluded from the publishing. In a way I think that this is a testament to the wavering process of healing. For example, the saddest times were probably transcribed in the beginning, two years ago, but about a month ago a moment of fleeting angst called for an introspective and somewhat sad piece. In that regard, the biggest thing I learned about my healing process was that there is no definitive say on when the ill feelings will fade there is simply the beginning the end and the time in between. Something eventfully painful occurs, you cry and hurt, you have days where everything feels light, maybe even elongated periods of time, weeks, months where you can breathe easy, but that's neither here nor there. A year later when you find yourself facing the same demons that you seem to have escaped, you ask yourself how is this still happening to me, you ask yourself why a million + times, but with more living you come to know that its finally over. There's no date or time stamp, no true summation but there is an end. For me the release of these thoughts and feelings into the world is exactly that. I had to find a way to express myself and since I can remember the only thing I felt exceptional at was writing. Throughout my life I always told myself that this is what I would be, but I didn't know that I would become that through the misfortune of my relationships with past lovers. I guess like most creative outlets, the cliché of tragedy before triumph definitely fits here as well.
Transitioning from scattered feelings into logistics was the most difficult part of the process. I've done many projects throughout school and been a part of many things that required organization throughout my life but none of those things were directly composed by me. None of those things were for me - in that sense I was just working and doing x,y,z to either get by or pass the time. When it became more personal is when I began to panic about my skillsets that would allow this project to come together - or lack thereof. The writing has been collected in a file on my desktop for over two years and writing for me is as fluid an act as drinking water, that was the easy part. Assembling all of these loose journals was the real challenge. With no real direction, I began to reach out to other poets and writers I looked up to. If you asked me then, I would tell you that I was searching for mentor-ship. In hindsight, I was really searching for confidence in myself. I needed someone I considered prolific to tell me I was good enough, but throughout the journey I found that the relationship between what's ready to be shared with the world and what's not quite ripe yet is solely between the artist and the work. No one can reassure you but you.
But I digress - After a few emails and google docs went unread or unresponded to I said fuck it, and started outlining ideas myself. I was very overwhelmed and working out of order until I reached out to my editor turned friend Breeana Nykole. I felt at ease from our first meeting which is definitely credited to her balanced energy. I like to call her my aunty (haha). I tend to get rowdy and overwhelmed when any little thing goes wrong, Bree's aura allows for no unnecessary disorder. There was a brief moment (that felt like forever) of turbulence that occurred when she moved from Los Angeles to North Carolina, a week of no contact - which led to no clarity for me in terms of her involvement in the project. Although there were moments where I wish I could teleport overall, Bree moving was the biggest blessing to happen to Nameless: A Post-Traumatic Self. After a week of not speaking, Bree re-emerged well rested and momentarily free from all responsibilities, leaving her more enthusiastic and involved than before, even with miles between us. I have Breeana and SYLA journal to thank for giving this zine structure, breathing life into it with the design and aesthetics, and keeping all of my loose screws together and focused on the end result.
When asking someone to describe their personal style the answers vary, for me I take pride in always appearing comfortable no matter what the event calls for. With that comfort comes my love for dark and/or neutral colors, uniform tones that blend well with my effortlessness. I couldn't have imagined that my first personal project would involve four colors (yellow, blue, green and lavender) until styling came into question. Maya Spratling (JetpackSprat) colored my lifes work in pastels and minimalism. A person with attention to detail is something inherent and hard to come by, needless to say, its a necessary skill that is difficult to learn. A lot of time we see things often imitated but never duplicated and wonder why the imitator can't seem to get it right - this is all because of details. through Maya I learned (especially with color theory) that every little thing matters. Although my own preferences were involved in picking some of the pieces depicted, I don't think I could take credit for the seamlessness of the styling that took place throughout production. From twisting of buttons, steaming wrinkles so meticulously that it irritated me at times (LOL), to pulling of stray threads Maya made sure that everything looked as good as my writing reads, down to a simple stud earring that wouldn't have mattered to me had she not pointed it out, yet made all the difference.
Throughout life I've always regarded very few women as friends. That can be attributed to my introvert/extrovert commonalities (s/o SZA), my childhood experiences with other girls, or my lack of trust that was embedded in me from a young age by my mother who always told me "I'd rather see you hanging with a bunch of guys than a bunch of girls because if I don't know anything, I know that your guy friends will always have your back". With a somewhat rough playschool upbringing I would say that my mom was right for the most part , I grew up getting into fights I never started, was jumped once or twice, and even threatened to be cut with a razor from girls in elementary and middle school. There was one girl at John Burroughs Middle School however, that I did not know would become one of my most loyal friends in my adult life. Denita Turner and I used to ride the school bus together, only speaking Hi-Bye in passing. It wasn't until I moved back to Los Angeles in January 2016, after graduating from college that we became inseparable friends. Since the first night we met and ate vegan Thai food while bonding over music and poetry in her car she named 'Karma' she's debunked every hangup I've had about befriending other women which has allowed me to connect with almost every woman that has aided me in producing Nameless: A Post-Traumatic Self. The list of ways in which Denita has helped me goes on for miles but in less words: I am left-handed and Denita Turner is my left hand.
Naturally - and as aforementioned - anyone I've met through Denita has also became a friend to me. One of those people is fellow Libra and makeup artist of our era, Erin Pea. In a time when the MUA is a quintessential Instagram micro-celebrity who over-saturates pretty faces in foundation, mink eyelashes and glitter Erin harnesses and editorial gift that enables her to enhance a face all while still keeping that persons true essence. Ms. Pea is many things but I would crown her in my immediate collective as the household make-up artist for creatives. I once told her that for some reason when I scroll through social media I can immediately pinpoint her brush to a face without knowing that it’s her work. Until I worked with Erin, I personally never noticed how an artistic form that is often disregarded also has the same potential to bud a signature style as any art form does. Progressively, after a long day of shooting and makeup artistry, I also told Erin that soon we'd all be flipping through her work in Vogue Magazine. I said that amidst a series of jokes, but I was dead serious.
I showed up late the first day of shooting. I had just experienced a very overwhelming panic attack due to an unorganized morning and everything was falling apart. When we all finally arrived at the location, I immediately began showering Ciarra Walters - A talented Los Angeles based photographer - in apologies. she didn't respond typically by saying "it's ok" or whatever else people say when they have to accept an "I'm sorry" to my surprise she told me "Just stop". Instead of being rightfully upset that I was late on a day filled with obligations, the only thing she was concerned about was sound energy going into shooting. I'm fairly new to being the subject of photoshoots so I was very nervous to begin with. I wanted to shoot digital - more room for error - she wanted to shoot 35mm film - more grain and texture. She insisted and to my relief I found that with patience, affirmative words of encouragement and a knack for color portraiture and angles, Ciarra's approach to photography will turn any novice model into a professional. So there I was, the subject of my own writing working through insecurities and self-confidence in front of a lens. Ciarra agreed to work with me last minute after my first photographer was unable to commit to the project. Looking back, there were a lot of moments that one would consider fate, if they believe in that sort of thing, but after all the mishaps occurred, having Ciarra as my golden eye was definitely the best example of destiny.
There is no math to how friendship develops. Just different interactions, different settings and reasons. The one thing I do know as a commonality between all friendship dynamics is organic development and trust is a minimum. Rick Dove and I experienced a serendipitous interaction going from not being allowed to drink my beer on the Broadway and Olympic corner per his orders to 5am conversations over painting walls in preparation for the show. With Hiatus Kaiyote's "Molasses" playing in the background I vividly recall a conversation about potential; On a weary working morning, we came to the conclusion that there is something precious about opening the first door for a person with potential. Knowing that you yourself were once someone that was just waiting for someone to believe in you. Rick could've easily turned my release concept down, he could have easily sided with the industry ideal of only working with known creatives but instead he took a chance with me and Nameless. I haven't had a chance to discuss his views on the turnout but I hope he'll agree agree that expectations were exceeded. Furthermore, that although we started our relationship as peers, we ended as friends. Friends with Rick from Pakkard. That's a big deal.
In retrospect, I thank all of these people greatly. They've seen me through my anxieties, fears and lowest moments throughout this journey and it all produced an exceedingly successful product. Months of work leads up to mere moments of relief once it’s all said and done and although I've had mixed feelings of sadness about the end of it all, I am happy that I did not have to relish in the process alone. Success is without a doubt sweeter when you have loved ones to share it with.
Fin.