4-24-24 8:59 pm

I am so fortunate to keep a record of my life through words. I felt transported by the following prose while reading through previously written pieces. I remember exactly what was happening in my life then as I recorded it into my notes app. To see in hindsight what I was eluding to in this expression was so on point, prophetic even. I had no idea of the storm that was ahead of me.

I had just lost one of the most influential persons I’ve had in my lifetime to a battle with cancer. In the coming months after writing the following, I fought a looming eviction in an overpriced apartment in Harlem that I shared with my best friend…and lost. I had to move suddenly to avoid said eviction. I had to leave my best friend behind. I left everything behind because all that mattered was my survival.

That summer I went through one of the lowest points of my life. I floated through work, social gatherings, and travels. I felt like I was merely a husk of my former self—devoid of all the familiar parts. I faced suicidal thoughts and came out victorious thanks to therapy. (Shout out to Better Help!) My new home felt beyond foreign to me and I struggled with wanting to make it ‘feel like’ home because I wanted it to be temporary.

Despite all the challenges I found myself keeping the faith that it would all equalize. I had to go inwards to depths I’ve never reached before to find my essence again. I gripped hold of my values, held my inner child with nurturing light, and pulled that love back to the surface, then onto the shores. I weathered the storm. I found my tribe again. It’s an incredible feeling to be able to accept love from your friends and family after going through that kind of darkness.

If any of this resonates with you, if you’ve been through a time of great upheaval or if you are going through that now, please know that you are not alone. Your body and mind are wired to fight and come out on the other side. I send love out to everyone that has felt lost, destroyed, and like it’s not worth moving forward. It is! Keep wading through those waters and you will be found once again.

The following was written on 4-24-24 @ 8:59pm:

Change can be a terrifying thing. When you are on the precipice of a whole new life, and you feel the tides of change swelling. I get a metaphor of a plane crashing in the ocean and you’re the only survivor. Your entire life’s existence carried in the undertow; the people you’ve met, the place you live, the friends, the lovers, the familiar places, creature comforts…they all float about you in the expansive waters that surround you. You won’t be able to save any of them. The load you’ve brought with you on this trip belongs  to the sea now, sinking down to depths that light won’t touch. What matters is that you made it; you’re alive. That thought begins to wonder if you will truly make it out of these waters though.

Now you only have two options. One is to succumb to the idea that you will not be saved. No one will find you all the way out here. Eventually you will either starve, be eaten, or drown. This thought gets you no where. Literally. And since you are already no where, you can do the opposite. You can keep the faith that you will be saved. That you will get out of this alive. You will have another warm meal, you will see smiling faces and laugh with them, you will fall in love again.

When you do finally make it out of the waves, your feet firmly planted on earth, then you can mourn what you have lost. You can look back and remember exactly what it is you had before you made this miraculous recovery. You have hung onto it all for so long and it is a part of you. But it is not all you are. The strength, the resiliency you have from making it back to life, would be nothing without those past experiences, people, and places. They made you, their mark is forever burned inside of you. Take those energies and memories and transform them into new miracles. Imbue your new life with love and light in their honor. Go longer, farther, and faster than you ever have before. For now you know what is at stake to be lost.

An introductory period

When I was growing up, beginning primarily in middle school, I was always looking forward to my art classes. I loved the creative freedom and allowed myself to get lost within those moments, even if they did only last about an hour. I tried so many different mediums through the years—batik, charcoal, acrylic and oil paints, clay sculpture, pottery, metal smithing, lost wax jewelry. The list could go on and on and on. I was determined to try it all so I could know exactly what I loved and what would maybe need more time.

In my spare time when I was home, I loved to write. I’ve kept stacks of journals for so long now that I almost have the chronicles of the greater part of my life documented in pen and paper. It can be most fascinating to pick an old one up and get a glimpse into my life back then. Who was I crushing on? Who did I hate? What was I looking forward to? What was I dreading? So many raw emotions when you’re that age. There would be many pages dedicated to poetry or some would be a kind of drawing-collage hybrid with my entry for that day integrated and hidden within the illustration.

I also began writing short stories early on and my older sister, who had just graduated college, enrolled me in a creative writing summer class. I was so inspired by movies and often dreamt of seeing them come to life on a big screen. I wanted to write the next Kill Bill which was my cinema obsession at the time. All I knew is that I wanted to have my art be consumed. The idea of your writing being turned into film or television was so exciting to me. To witness it come to life visually, your words becoming this breathing, growing, tangible thing suddenly…that’s powerful!

In my junior and senior years of high school is when I discovered that fashion could be another outlet. Not only how I style myself but I could make clothes for other people too! I could use decoration of the self as a means of expression. I was taking the W Magazine’s from my best friend’s sister-in-law’s house when she was done with them—cutting out and pasting the oversized glossy pages to my bedroom walls. It got to the point where almost 100% of my walls were covered in either magazine clippings or other art works. I literally surrounded myself with the work of the world’s top designers and would stare at it all, soaking it in.

My passion for fashion translated well into a retail career. I worked my way up the food chain for a solid five years after high school before ending up in New York. I was recruited to begin working for Giorgio Armani in 2012 which felt like a dream. The Fifth Avenue flagship store was megalithic and housed all the Armani brands, even the Ristorante on the top floor. I forged so many friendships and working relationships there. After Armani came Hermès thanks to one of my colleagues. This felt like I was reaching a pinnacle of my career in retail.

It was at Hermès where I met someone that would alter the course of my life forever. He only shopped with me once, but our friendship would transcend way beyond silk scarves and Birkin bags. This person encouraged me to reignite the fires of creativity within, return to school, and go after my dreams. Four months later I arrived in San Francisco to attend Academy of Art University to study fashion journalism.

Now, as an (almost) 36 year old, I am pleased to say that I still carry around these burning embers of creativity. As an adult we don’t always get to pounce on every opportunity…but the one thing I always find the time for is writing. I still keep a journal. Still must keep a log of my life’s highs and lows. Future me will be so pleased to have the content to read. I guess that this blog will be a kind of extension of that.

Here I want to keep a chronicle of things that constantly inspire me. I hope that these entries help me dig deeper and discover further into the worlds of artistic expression. If you’ve made it this far, I bid you a very warm welcome and I hope that you return to see what I uncover next.

With gratitude,

DH