Category Archives: Art(s)

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.” – Jack Kerouac

The Way Of Grace: In Conversation With Playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney

Ecstatic Exchange is series on The Ecstatic Flash that chronicles my dialogues with people that inhabit creative spaces. The goal is to engage “successfully”artistic people and in so-doing inspire us all to lead more creative lives. In this edition, award-winning playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney, talks to me about his life in the arts and the force of Grace, which also happens to be the name of both his grandmothers.

The Way Of Grace: In Conversation With Playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney

Ecstatic Exchange is series on The Ecstatic Flash that chronicles my dialogues with people that inhabit creative spaces. The goal is to engage “successfully”artistic people and in so-doing inspire us all to lead more creative lives. In this edition, award-winning playwright Tarell Alvin McCraney, talks to me about his life in the arts and the force of Grace, which also happens to be the name of both his grandmothers.

Red Carpet Fashion Flash: 2016 Academy Awards

While Oscar season is one I annually await with bated breath for reasons both cinematic and sartorial, I cannot say I was particularly falling out of my seat with excitement in anticipation of last night’s Academy Awards ceremony. I found

Red Carpet Fashion Flash: 2016 Academy Awards

While Oscar season is one I annually await with bated breath for reasons both cinematic and sartorial, I cannot say I was particularly falling out of my seat with excitement in anticipation of last night’s Academy Awards ceremony. I found

The Fire And The Rose (or Let Nothing You Dismay)

The only savior from the burn of a half-baked existence is the sort of fire that shifts our shape and molds our mettle. Whenever the year comes to its Gregorian end, we exchange grand overtures, symphonically declaring what a good year the one ahead will be for us all. What we rarely mention is that shit is bound cloud the rivers of joy despite our most valiant efforts. What we hardly discuss is the notion that triumph and defeat are one and the same.

The Fire And The Rose (or Let Nothing You Dismay)

The only savior from the burn of a half-baked existence is the sort of fire that shifts our shape and molds our mettle. Whenever the year comes to its Gregorian end, we exchange grand overtures, symphonically declaring what a good year the one ahead will be for us all. What we rarely mention is that shit is bound cloud the rivers of joy despite our most valiant efforts. What we hardly discuss is the notion that triumph and defeat are one and the same.

The Dizziness of A Soul Made Visible Sans Artifice

“The dizziness of a soul made visible by artifice” are the words poet Stéphane Mallarmé employed to describe of art of Modern Dance pioneer Loie Fuller… Everything in this dizzying world turns in the gyre, like Ms. Fuller herself, hopefully spinning ever toward light.

The Dizziness of A Soul Made Visible Sans Artifice

“The dizziness of a soul made visible by artifice” are the words poet Stéphane Mallarmé employed to describe of art of Modern Dance pioneer Loie Fuller… Everything in this dizzying world turns in the gyre, like Ms. Fuller herself, hopefully spinning ever toward light.

Impression: Stormrise

Impressionism’s Impression on me in the Windy City and this stormy season of my life…

Impression: Stormrise

Impressionism’s Impression on me in the Windy City and this stormy season of my life…

One Name, One Dream: Painter Alvaro In His Own Words

“I knew it!” he bellowed. “I said to myself, look for Naomi, look for Naomi and there you are! I knew you would be fabulous!” These were the first words Brooklyn-born, Bronx-raised artist of Puerto-Rican and Spanish descent, Alvaro uttered to me when we met on the stairs on the First Baptist Church in the City of New York over a year ago. Alvaro—like Madonna and Rihanna, mononymously known for his craft— darted up the stairs, toward the bright red church doors against which I was leaning and gave me a warm and deep hug, the varietal of hug exchanged by old friends, and not people who were meeting for the first time ever for the purposes of an interview…

One Name, One Dream: Painter Alvaro In His Own Words

“I knew it!” he bellowed. “I said to myself, look for Naomi, look for Naomi and there you are! I knew you would be fabulous!” These were the first words Brooklyn-born, Bronx-raised artist of Puerto-Rican and Spanish descent, Alvaro uttered to me when we met on the stairs on the First Baptist Church in the City of New York over a year ago. Alvaro—like Madonna and Rihanna, mononymously known for his craft— darted up the stairs, toward the bright red church doors against which I was leaning and gave me a warm and deep hug, the varietal of hug exchanged by old friends, and not people who were meeting for the first time ever for the purposes of an interview…

Archie Leach Syndrome: The Courage To Be A Fraud

Perhaps the late New York Times columnist, David Carr, was right. Perhaps “we all walk this earth feeling like frauds” and “the trick is to be grateful and to hope the caper doesn’t end too soon.” But the caper begins only when we find that intrepidity to be that fraud that we suspect ourselves of being.

Archie Leach Syndrome: The Courage To Be A Fraud

Perhaps the late New York Times columnist, David Carr, was right. Perhaps “we all walk this earth feeling like frauds” and “the trick is to be grateful and to hope the caper doesn’t end too soon.” But the caper begins only when we find that intrepidity to be that fraud that we suspect ourselves of being.