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The Beauty of Quietly Sharing.

When my mother was on her earthly journey, she’d watch cooking shows back to back.

I was always a bit annoyed when I visited, wanting to change the channel from these toxically chipper people having nothing but fun cooking, not a hint of real life foibles in sight.

Well through out life, I’ve been taxed with taking care of myself. And being a bit of a foodie myself, the making of a dish would capture my attention from time to time.

These days I liken myself a very tasty cook, and it’s the chore I spend the most amount of time on.

So now, I willingly give cooking instruction videos in my feed a chance.

Which is how I found “Kay.”

Kay…. prepares the most exquisite meals… and characteristically does so through a darker lens than the vast majority of chefs you may encounter on social media. She is the Edgar Allen of bunch.

And most times seems genuinely taken with her process, not you.

Important because I want to think my own thoughts, and have my own experiences with what I’m watching. I don’t want to feel pressured to feel like the chef is a chum.

Her process is enough.

It’s already the best and highest bar for what it is.

Art That Takes You Home

…sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing
its loveliness…

~ Galway Kinnell

As an artist who lives in a culture dissimilar from the one in which I was raised, I am hyper-aware that much I was oriented on and knew as valuable growing up, is absent from my present environment. In the US, and in New York.

As a young woman my parents afforded me the chance to travel to the US for high school and to stay on for college. My parents didn’t agree with my every choice as a young woman, but they allowed me power over my own destiny, after a certain age.

However living in a culture with little indigenous influence, is a shift that takes a lifetime of adjustment. And I’ve honestly – not – very well.

Instead I remain hungry and attuned to any expression of it which happens along.

And in this choreographer, I recognized the reference to the ancient, ritual, and indigenous immediately. So I’ve looked him up, for more reconnection to what was revived in my spirit.

And been watching ever since, settling in.

A Small Must-See (Clip)

This is my favorite scene from the controversial film Padmaavat (which I completely loved).

First off, I love how romantic and sensual Indian culture and sensibility can be.

It’s in full celebration of the feminine in many ways.

So in their films they will include elements of attraction untypical on screen.

Notice how the King looks at the Queen in this scene, he is fully surrendered, taking in what looks like his ultimate pleasure (as things play out when a man is in love). Notice his touch, when it’s his turn in the ceremony.

With her we see her playful and trusting, and in the end fully surrendered as well.

There is some “other” really nice stuff in this film, but the dance of desire, reverence, and connection packed in this clip, is a gift on film, I’ve been waiting for.

 

The Superpower, Emotion.

Add some to the words and this is what results.

What do you think?

I heard this and was haunted, it really crawls under your skin and stays there.

*Beautiful.*

 

 

[Original song by Chris Issak]

And Another Gallery Crawl…

So my wonderful co-workers and I explored the Lower East Side recently…

A closer look at his works:
https://www.krausegallery.com/rodolfo-loaiza

Some of the works we saw there…
http://vanderplasgallery.com/artists/

Hope you found something to like also? And if you’re in the area (Lower East Side NYC, I recommend the galleries shown here). WE had a ball…

Here It Is Again.

Don’t give a shit. Don’t care. Books, until recently, were dangerous: banned, burned, watched. Write something dangerous. Say something you shouldn’t. Blow something up. But well. ~Shalom Auslander

 

(My favorite ‘writing’ piece of advice.)

She Died.

Spirit obliterated, I continue on empty. Hallow. Devoid of meaning.

Poverty stricken in truth, earnestness, courage and love.

Navigating a mine field of struggling intentions, fleeting seconds after effort for their lack of anchor in life.

Now what I hate, incubating nothing but rootless idea.

Copyright@ 2017 Tanyeno Wotorson

Reblogged. (Certainly…)