Best day to wear a turtle neck with your blazer: is all the time.
By: Steven Underwood
#Wcwfashionshow set it off with Gianna (or Gia, as she is affectionately called)’s ode to the Streets.
Yesterday, New Jersey native, Gianna Ross, released her street inspired collection for Street Serenade Apparel. Her line focused on the dynamic looks of rap, hip-hop and black culture, celebrating the fierce nobility in our nouveau noir generation. The bold Centenary University Alum’s showcase stunted, featuring several of her sorors as models for her collection.
“Heart Beat Of The Streets”
An ode to the Streets, Culture, & the People that arose from it. Using the streets as our muse & embracing our journey, from the ground up🥀✊🏻✊🏼✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿
Do what Janelle Monae said: Femme the future and follow her Movement!
IG (Owner): Gia_lizz
Like, Comment and Follow for a close look at this artist’s journey!
I wanted to be a Super Villain for a day, and my dreams came true.
Look: ASOS: ASOS BERET in GREY HERRINGBONE. RED, WHITE AND BLUE THRIFT STORE: CALVIN KLEIN TRENCH COAT, THORN NECKLACE. TOPMAN: BLACK SKINNY CHINOS. AMAZON: CIRCULAR RETRO BLACK SHADES
Talia Rashay, 22, Columbus, OH; Dancer
“The possibilities are endless when you do what you love and love what you do!”
By Steven Underwood
When I met her, she had a dance at the base of her foot and a kick in her step that set flowers to bloom down the halls of our middle school. We weren’t rich, but her presence always was. Talia Rashay (Or simply, Shay), a Columbus native, had a beautiful art to her that was like smelling spring. She collected anything orange; she sung in the choir; she was pure and cool and vibed like jazz in moonlight behind a pair of glasses and a butterscotch smile.
Talia’s RAW profile sings her love for dance: “Dancing lives in me, music frees my soul and I express my love through the connection of movement and music” – she follows this with a heart emoji, because she’s just sweet like that.
Few who know her do not also know her reverence for family – and friends that are family, like her heart-and-soul, Brittany Dinea. Her brother is featured stage right in all of her snaps, and she smiles next to him like a proud mother. That butterscotch smile she reserves for love, affection and dedication. Her brother was an athlete for FRANKLIN HEIGHTS HIGH SCHOOL, a public school on the Southwest side of Columbus that has become the seed for Ohio’s most powerful and inspirational young minds like the revered Marshawn McCarrel, model, Brandon Lynn Watters, local entrepreneur Tony Harvard and Community Organizer, Matthew Quinn.
Often, her left manifests Brittaney, a bohemian princess who moves through Columbus like a nymph of concrete and beauty through perseverance, filling walls and canvas with art and inspiration. This inspiration flows into how she moves: always seductive, but rhythmically modest and conservative, like a dance of spring fertility – seduction for the sake of life, rather than excess and sloppy gluttony.
This kind of movement is rediculously difficult in Hip Hop. The artform is naturally bombastic and raw. It is delivered in truths: both measured and unmeasured, brutal and delicate. Few people ever call the Truth beautiful, but somehow Talia moves beautifully. On her Instagram, followers can find a video of her practice with Tru Kingdom Mega Crew from Columbus, Ohio. Far from alone on the stage, Talia’s actions are complimentary, but motivates an blossoming energy under the strobe lights. She doesn’t seem to ever strive for the spotlight of the performance, but lures it in as a matter of personality while up there. She lacks bombastic move, but — as every dancer knows — it’s not in what you do, it’s how you do it.
Such art is never a product of talent. Anyone could move to something sexually; anyone could step out on a floor and live in the moment selfishly. Talia’s talent comes best through hardwork and dedication to a craft that is meant to convey love. Though her Twitter Profile (@_ImShay) whispers of “Naturally Gifted” across the bio, her actual talents are a reflection of a flower pushing through icy bedrock and overwhelming snowfall: a promise of tomorrow’s spring day.
All Rights for the Featured Image are due to Visual Artist, Brittaney Dinea, and can be found @Brittanydinea on Instagram.
By Steven Underwood
Numb like the first time I said I hate you,
That’s what I am,
I worshipped the wrong words we shared;
I bent the knee on brown rice and glass
And acknowledged the kinship like
The pupper lapping sweetened water from a bowl.
Neglect my sorrows once, and I will come
Neglect my tears twice, and I follow
Neglect my heart thrice, cross it, and I will die
I hope those days are over
I pray that solace into my open palms
My bare lap
And my solemn dreams.
Then maybe I can finally feel
By Steven Underwood
You walk into a black wall and barely recognize that it’s built of brown bodies
And ask if something is the matter with how it is formatted.
There are arms mangled into the body, jabbing into broken ribs and closed mouths and shuttered eyes and pork-rolled tongues.
There is sweat dripping down their body in crimson, mingling with blood in a marriage of decay and debauchery and self-loathing.
You still wonder if something is the matter with how it is formatted.
You turn to the Asian pharmacist around the corner and ask him, and he has no answers and so you ask the Jewish librarian, and he ignores you outright. You ask the Hispanic barber and he does not want to speak your blistering white language on his pink tongue and you ask the Arabic teacher and he is afraid to answer because you wear a red hat. You ask every spectrum and color of the rainbow until the world is a searing maelstrom of every color and every pink, gooey tongue and every shade but black, until you return to the wall and patiently stare.
Then, you ask the wall. You open your mouth and speak.
“Why wall,” You say in a frantic manner. “Why are you joints connected and your foots in mouthes and your heels pressed to throat with the aggression of a boot, or a hammer or a world-smashing, all-ending fist of iron?”
The wall speaks in a powerful manner, in a warm tone that sounds like your father who abandoned, and the mother who sacrificed and the sister went ignored and the brother who protested nothing. “It is because, we cannot untangle from ourselves.”