notes from tokyo

Friday, June 23, 2017



Of course, the writing that struck me most was from the book I didn't buy.

Tokyo Day 2: Already finding myself a nook in the middle of Comme des Garçonsreading excerpts from the Met's Art of the In-Between, collecting notes dotted with question marks I'd come back to again & again over the following weeks. I left home wanting to understand the idea of home better. Tokyo, where a scatter of childhood memories rooted in the delicate radius of a singular neighborhood, now years later, becomes a less tangible city, with new memories sprawling outwards. This city still feels like a piece of home, even though far less than half a life was spent here. The people make it this way. In the homes we create ourselves, over and over as we grow up, in someone else. Home is multiple places now, home is someone. Rei's words- on marriage, (the freedom to) stand out, blend in, how we say goodbyes in small & large ways, and continue saying these goodbyes after death. On the importance of becoming a child again to create, suffering to create, posterity, opulence. I visited multiple shrines, temples, cemeteries in Tokyo, then later in Kyoto, sacred places for people I knew, and knew nothing of. There's a stillness in these places that is really peaceful, brimming with energies of their own, an otherworldly feeling. 

images from Rei Kawakubo's Art of the In-Between and AnOther mag






"I called it the Ceremony of Separation. It's about how the beauty and power of ceremony can alleviate the pain of separating, for the one departing as well as for the one saying goodbye." 







"I want to be forgotten" 

















here / there

Thursday, June 15, 2017



 ここから
 そこまで

tokyo. 6.12.2017
your moon, my moon  


Blue

Monday, June 12, 2017



branches like arteries 
violent in the night, volatile
 and the small white petals drawing you
closer,

waking up what's asleep inside 


marguerite duras: 
the light fell from the sky 
in cataracts of pure transparency, 
in torrents of silence
and immobility. 


the air was blue, you could hold it in your hand.
blue. 
















every night was different, each one had a name as long as it lasted. 












Crinkle

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Fay by Mia Dabrowski & Bérenger Pelc,
Novembre Magazine






i. all that's revealed in midnight blue,
whispers, shared songs, 
gold tinted mischievous crinkle
of your eye

ii. "the night, because it holds endless possibilities, is god" 
-the theology of innocence, susan meltzer






Soft burn

Tuesday, May 23, 2017



"Eyes closed, I gave myself to the sun...
I brushed from the sky the azure that is darkness, and I lived-
gold spark of pure light" 

Rimbaud, A Season in Hell


Isaiah and Slim, Brooklyn
clothes by Nika Tang


fragments ii.

Sunday, May 21, 2017


i. "psychoanalysts say that shame ruins your capacity for reverie by making cracks in the mind where it is dangerous for thoughts to wander."
-anne carson, shame stack


ii. ask the moon 
where we went last night

what would she tell you? 







iii. 
f: friction, fantasy, fortress, filament, free-fall, free me, find me, finish me, forget-me-not




iv. recently:

red tulips to wake up to, 






















last light at the headlands, 

magical image by Raffaele Cariou, 

"lullaby music for psychotics" or Blood by This Mortal Coil, 

revisiting always favorite "Brooklyn Gang" by Bruce Davidson, 

"the city of absurdity" & other paintings by david lynch, 

"Angel's egg" the visuals, the OST (!!)  



v. 
journal entry a few week ago: 

"so it seems we've finally
learned, how to outsmart the 
beauty of dawn"

this week:
we wrote a song for eos





vi. 
one kind of perfect blue, where storm meets sea



vii. 
how to measure 

the velocity 

of


                            falling?










fragments i.

Friday, May 12, 2017

 i. 
that the sky never ages 
and we do
reminds us of our place in the universe

ii. 
"pharmakon means drug, but as Jacques Derrida and others have pointed out, the word in Greek famously
refuses to designate whether poison or cure"

iii. 
"alright then, let me try to rephrase. 
When I was alive, I aimed to be a student not of longing but of light."


 An old polaroid for mono-ha, a night in the cemetery- drawn to this angel.
Revisiting bluets, and learning about Copernicus. 



Latifah for Micaela Greg s/s17, 
a few favorite moments




April's table of contents:

Friday, April 14, 2017





Pt 1:

i. a cruel gentle trajectory 
ii. all the ions (inside my body) starting arguments they cannot win
iii. the minor key
iv. after 4 b4 rain
v. "as if color could be further revealed by slitting" 
vi. choose which mirror you look into
vii. anatomy: fingers tracing lower spine tingling
viii. in your flickering eyes a prism 
ix. do we grow younger & younger every year?
x. below my feet a thousand lights
xi. rust
xii. chase the sun until it falls off the bench 
xiii. waltz in the 4th dimension
xiv. us, alive








Horreur Sympathique ii.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

i. in the blink of an eye
ii. the careful thoughts you disguise
iii. versailles 














iv. crimson string 
glass

do you promise a 
shattered
vermillion
lie?



v.  finding decadent 
sinews,

i vanished 





vii. into
the beating of arteries
and tonight's
reverberations

folie à deux

Wednesday, March 15, 2017


Nathan and Juke wear Jacquemus, Adidas x Raf Simons, 
hififnk, Oak+ Fort, Uniqlo x Lemaire 


8:20 am
trying to love you more, you taught me to kiss the crook of my thumb and index because in it, I found a soul in the shape of a broken 
habit, one that learns and unlearns habituating, learning itself. 

Look at you, a little poem, 
wondering why the 
blue was so wide,
and your flesh even wider. 

_______

Nathan gave me this poem- part of a larger poem he wrote, near the end of our photoshoot, just several days after Ren Hang passed. Looking through these photos, he was unquestionably on our minds that day, lingering on the edges of all we went after. 

 

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