We do not live more fully merely by doing more, seeing more, tasting more, and experiencing more than we ever have before. On the contrary, some of us need to discover that we will not begin to live more fully until we have the courage to do and see and taste and experience much less than usual.-Thomas Merton

If I made a t-shirt, or a bumper sticker in summation of this trip though it’s wordy and a little heavy, the above would be the only explanation I could possibly give for everything that molds and melds my mind as the days continue to gather here. a continual lesson in humility, patience, compassion, and overall intentionality and right action, i’ve never been so perpetually exhausted nor rejuvenated……

“Whats your BBM?”

ME: I don’t really have a blackberry…

“Ok well whats your mobile in general”

ME: yeah, i don’t really have one of those either…I have Facebook? And a postal address…too much too soon?! (creeping myself out as i realize i may have taken the serious question into joke territory…awkward)

“paper and pen?”

ME: on it.

The conclusion of that little anecdote is the possession of a strip of paper with eleven odd numbers on it and the very apparent example of my antiquated armory even though admittedly i’m very much on the younger end of the registration tent at Somerset House. How to approach journalism less with words and observations and more with transactions and technology wars seems to be the theme of the party and i’m wearing the wrong costume. Curious to see how things play out at LFW(guess the acronym), can I survive without obligatory modern devices, blackberrys, twitter, ETC? I know I’m not going to look cool but everyone always looks so cool that me looking cool never really was on the plate past day one anyway. Apparently I was supposed to be in the cue hours ago and as I already mastered the late arrival award yesterday trying to register, curious just how much demolition to my arsenal of graceful moves will occur. Lots of questions, no answers, and a day with only possibilities isn’t a bad way to begin in my book but I have a feeling that the ethos of the fashion world may not be so akin to my mentality as my twitter was flooded with #nosleep #stress #killmenow tags from those much more in the know and entrenched than me in the system.  should probably stop blogging and get going.. #killmenow, #stress, #nosleep. Lovely.

The above photograph is part a new exhibit hitting the James Hyman gallery in London  on Tuesday, ironically but intentionally in time for Fashion Week, as based around 20th century photographer August Sander (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/August_Sander). Highly influential but underrated, I covered this exhibit for JustLuxe but was inspired by the ethos behind it due to the fact that Sander has for a long time been a personal favorite after seeing his work at the Getty a few years ago, struck by the simplistic haunting imagery the maimed, exiled, different. Experiencing a somewhat tumultuous personal life, his work was influenced by the fringe society of the Weimar Republic during World War II, a collective band of mishapen mishaps, worn by the whirlwinds of reality. The world of Sander is a canvas for all walks of life, a utopia of harmonizing discord.

The Hyman Gallery exhibit focuses on a modern continuum of Sander’s work as Italian photographer Albrecht Tübke’s challenges trend based photographers (think Saratorialist http:/thesartorialist.blogspot.com/or Lookbook (http://www.lookbook.nu) with whom beauty is a given, cool the norm. Tübke’s has worked alongside the Saratoralist’s Scott Shurman, using him as an intentional subject for one of his portraits, an interesting parallel. Both differing in style of subject and method, Tübke often picks a favorite street corner to occupy for hours on end, letting life quite literally pass him by. While Schuman is undoubtedly a brilliant artist in his own right capturing iconic imagery from across the globe, Tübke seeks to abandon the hunt and gather approach to gathering subjects, allowing the grime of the day to give breed to inspiration, a rather metaphorical approach to the everyday encountered by all.

The decision to hold this exhibit during the very trend and consumerist based Fashion Week is absolutely one I applaud. In an age where image reigns and so often ideals are pushed aside, this exhibit is an intentional reminder that beauty is not a formula but rather a conscious choice to be influential, and vibrant always.

**All images property of the James Hyman Gallery

Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul-Thomas Merton

liFe is not Holy/ because it is Beautiful/it is beautiful/Because it is Holy-R. Lax

32 years later.

Become yourself.

become incredibly high and real and influence

everyone around you with your vibrations,

no matter how difficult it is.

drop everything else and

start doing the most fantastic, real things you

can think of-

become yourself

get to your own reality.”-paul williams

Here’s a preview of a piece written for a new magazine coming out of San Diego :) Stay tuned for more to come!

It is Industry Night at Vendome, an elite Mayfair modernist nightspot alive with the glory of glamour and above all the fever of an approaching weekend.  My own night is strictly the later, as I am late, lost, and fresh from the grunge of the underground subway.  Upon approaching the minimally chic entry I expect a Kate Moss or at least a Taylor Momsen look alike to beam lazars at me from studded Louboutins , teeth barred against entry to the famed underground Xanadu where palatial interiors fuse in perfection with the madness of a modern spin on the 70’s.  My appearance however, is anything but majestic as my attire is perhaps more appropriately akin to a jog about than an Industry Night event at what promises to be the premiere London’s exclusive club experience. Instead of infamous exclusion famed at other popular Mayfair clubs, the bouncer is none of the above and genuinely seems to welcome me into the dark double doors, catching me off guard.
Yet, perhaps I have no room to be surprised as my own exploration of the London scene has yet to be what anything of what I envisioned. Far less Winehousesque-escapades, much more Black Eyed Peas, and an introduction to the British tradition of birthday cakes at midnight in case your Patron needs an even sweeter pairing. Five minutes and two flights of stairs down to the wonderland of Vendome sub-reality has set in. While the bouncer may be warm and inviting above ground, down the rabbit hole cool rules….

What do you get when you mix a pinch of Secretly Canadian’s best(think Solid Gold, Rosebuds, Bon Iver) in a cosmic supergroup? Welcome to Gayngs(www.myspace.com/gayngs). :)

Today I felt like the ultimate foreigner. From literally snapping the head off the pay phone(it fell!!) to pushing open the fire escape door (apparently there are security cameras so all of my idiocies are gonna be captured…great) to trying to hail a taxi ala NYC(apparently not persuasive here) today was pretty much a big joke. The flight felt astonishingly short and while I did not sit next to Britain’s best looking —my seatmate was a charming Harley-Davidson rep covered in tattoos which, as a good tattoo should do, always evokes a story of sorts. The only major accomplishment (which may be somewhat of a negative for adjustment purposes), was finally figuring out how to get internet after a huge failure with telephone communication. Even though I got lost, acted like an idiot, cried a bit, and felt really fucking homesick I have to be confident that in a few days things will be on the up—i won’t hate how the streets signs are craftily hidden, nevermind that the streets themselves are a regular maze, how awkward and flat my accent sounds in contrast with the lyrical hum I am surrounded by, or a hundred million things that get to me when i’m lost, carrying over my bodyweight in luggage, and generally swimming in humidity. Silver Lining—The day ended well with walk through the perimeter of my new neighborhood and I shot some of the buildings with dusk as a canvas—perfect lighting for the austere colours.  I want to edit and put them up but  I barely have any battery and my transformer pack of chargers is very much letting me down. Tomorrow, class somewhat begins so sleeping tonight is crucial and I don’t think will present much of a challenge. Home seems so far away and it is quite literally unimaginable that somewhere, across the bigass “pond”, the life that I know too well is just reaching its peak (if even). As much as I want to be doing everything that’s routine instead of writing in a journal in a quiet room in a hostel full of equally quiet strangers, I have to keep whats actually in the present forefront. Not what I would hope to carve as the future, not what I wish  could erase as the past, but merely to surround myself with what is present and tangible now.

T-minus five hours until I leave and I still haven’t done my homework, finished my laundry, or weighed my suitcases, all of which range in priority but still finish on the same level of cruciality, and all of which i’ve had the same alotted eight days in which to acomplish. oops. Over the last few days I have managed to finish three books(Imperfect Birds-Anne Lamont, One Day-David Nicols, Thoughts in Solitude-Thomas Merton), assemble some art projects i’ve been meaning to for ages(see above) go on some amazing hikes(all of which have made me realize how unnaturally loud san diego can be) and generally psych myself up for the adventure ahead, a feeling almost as unatural as getting used to the aforementioned silence and sleeping more than four hours has been. I can honestly say I have no idea what to expect out of the next few months, and for someone that chronically drinks to the future with half a glass still full of the past I figured i’d feel at least a little bit more on edge either with apprehension and/or excitement, neither of which have yet to make an apperance. For now, I know my future consists of a direct flight and a window seat, what more is there to need?

Feel like I’ve been in transit for ages, from Chicago to a whirlwind year to a faster summer this past week at home has been a slow blur, time has taken a backseat for once and the days stretch. From a 9-5 existence to an open expanse of hours with no constraints.„,a sharp adjustment, but needed. Decided to start another blog as I’m really no good at journaling and worse at pulling things from memory. So here goes. No big updates for now, just Denver for a few days then a red-eye to the UK. Finaaaally.