Hey lovelies! It has been much too long since I’ve shared any of the alchemy I stay brewing on this site. Over the past few months I have been hard at work developing Women.Weed.WiFi, a female art and cannabis collective. Together with my friends, we maintain a weekly blog that covers product reviews, spiritual guidance, and interviews with other artists we dig. Recently we launched our quarterly zine, the first issue called, “Say Perhaps to Society,” that features words and art from contributors and yours truly. Oh yeah, and we throw really bangin’ parties 😉 Read our manifesto and follow Women.Weed.WiFi to stay up to date with my creative endeavors.
This post is dedicated to breathing new air and experiencing a new self once more. Harvest is all about traveling and experiencing all the corners of girlhood, including sensuality. There are few places in the world more sensual than New Orleans, so of course it is near and dear to me. Like everywhere else, how you experience a place is determined by how you understand yourself at that moment. Revisiting the city as an adult, it was as if a totally different person was able to breathe the air for the first time, and I was able to revisit the emotion that governs, Beignets and Trumpets (I, II) in Harvest. Below are some photos from a recent trip to NOLA and an excerpt from Beignets and Trumpets (II): New Resident. For more to read purchase Harvest here. Happy reading and happy autumn!
I am pleased to share the completed mural by the incredibly talented Joe Nix. This piece was created for Uncle Ike’s Pot Shop in the Central District of Seattle and within a few weeks of meeting with Joe he had already completed this beauty. When asked if I wanted to be a part of the project I was humbled and hella excited—be spray painted larger than life on the side of a pot shop? Absolutely. Though I’m still fairly new to the city and the area, I have been here long enough to know that the profile of the Central District is rapidly changing (read GENTRIFICATION: the ruin of communities of color everywhere) and therefore the decision to put my kinky fro and blackness (peep the “Uhuru” shirt [meaning “freedom” for the uninitiated]) on the building makes me even happier than seeing my face every day 😉
Hello to all you lovely people visiting this corner of my virtual universe! Thank you for coming back once more. Today’s post is a bit different from the rest as it is my first video post. Directing and styling films (in addition to writing them, of course) has always been a dream of mine, and I’m proud to present the first of many to come. For this short accompaniment to my poem, “Coffee + Cigarettes” I combined forces once more with the rest of the expanding ATWTV team. Check out our new site and drop a line if you’re interested in contributing. Otherwise, witness the beginning of a new chapter below and, as always, let me know what your thoughts (+ or – ) are.
Ok, so I don’t buy Fashion (emphasis on the “F”) magazines regularly for a lot of reasons. The main ones being a) they’re too damn expensive b) they are boring c) I usually couldn’t care less about the celebrity on the cover. However, sometimes something, usually someone, grabs me from the cover and I gladly hand over my $4.99 to Ms. Anna Wintour. This week, as I prepared for a long journey via public transportation from the airport, I was overwhelmed by the statuesque physique and Diana Ross weave of the unrivaled tennis phenomenon, Ms. Serena Williams.
Amanya Maloba: I only have memory of growing up in one house. This house is a good house in a good, suburban neighborhood, with a lot of good memories associated with it. It used to be brown, but is now off-white. There used to be a swing set in the backyard, but it’s not there anymore. There used to be an enormous tree stuck at a 45-degree angle with a groundhog living under the exposed roots. The tree has been cut down, and I suspect the groundhog was eaten by one of the foxes that run through the yard. There is a creek that runs behind this house that is home to snakes and tadpoles. When I was small, I used to walk the path that led to an opening of the creek hand in hand with my father. In recent years I’ve taken to sitting alone on a rock at this opening. However, none of these images is a complete description of what and where home is.
Click here to read the rest of my latest piece on where the stories in Harvest were born and where I call home.
Harvest is available in print and eBook here.
Personalized copies of Harvest available here.