The surface
was a series of small
mountain tops,
each less summitable
than the other.
A brief moment of existence,
a collection of fleeting moments.
The sun translated onto
a rippled ocean floor
where fish would embrace
the flashes of the big light in the sky.
Humans would try and mimic this,
falling short of truly acknowledging
it's power.
Stood in the shallow waters,
instead of swimming out
to where the earth's pull
became less obvious,
unable to enjoy
the feeling of flight.
Weekend Finds: 15/10/23
Given we’re aproaching the anniversary of Virgil Abloh’s passing, I found myself heading back to a number of the many DJ sets he left with us to enjoy. I often find myself listening back to one of his talks throughout the year, finding it an immense source of inspiration as I try to understand the brilliant human he was. This track was from one of his Televised Radio sets, a series that he began during the first lockdown, livestreaming his mixes from IG live where he could be found spinning on a translcuent Pioneer deck sat atop a heavy canvas piece designed by Denim Tears. I will always find it sad that I never got to meet him or even witness one of his many live sets, a feeling I’m sure that many have felt and will continue to feel for decades to come. Regardless, we must be greatful for the all the “Free Game” he left behind.
This was a beautifully atmospheric track that he queued towards the beginning of his set. However his version featured a heart felt poem from Sonny Hall, an individual who a friend had put me onto a few months prior. Sadly, I cannot find that particular version anywhere, believing it to be one of Virgil’s personal editions. If you fancy giving it a listen then head to track 09 on this set at around 35:20 and you’ll understand what I’m on about. It’s also worth acknowledging Ryuichi Sakamoto’s piano playing throughout, another genius talent we lost to cancer.
Another producer steps onto the Grime instrumental clip scene in the form of 808mystic. Placing a different spin on Skepta’s famous Westwood session, this one provides an alternative energy to the Wize edits but still one worth adding to the playlist.
Probably one of the most human pieces I’ve heard in a long time. Well worth the 11 minute + run time, especially when you give yourself the chance to recognise how simple yet profound Simone’s lyrics were and still are.
October Poetry: The Human Towel
Borrowing someone's towel is as human as it gets,
Each other's basic recognition that sleeping wet is simply no fun,
Not to mention getting your clothes wet.
A premonition between the two that an intimacy will be shared.
The Human Towel exchange is a magical thing,
Sparsely shared,
Especially now-a-days.
When I'm older I want my towel handovers to be fun.
A nice moment shared when grabbing a 1998 Wimbledon towel from the other person,
A simple chuckle as they read the year on the frilly textile,
Before rubbing it all over their naked bodies like the bar of soap before it.
Share more towels,
If you can
Although not too many
As there are nasty things floating about.
Weekend Finds + Favourites: 07/10/23
The following are just a few tracks and images that I recently came across. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
This one I found from a “Moog Board” playlist on Spotify. It gets quite cinematic towards the middle, something I can definitely imagine myself using later on in life if I ever get round to creating a montage of happy memories. Until then it can just remain a fun track.
This one’s a little more on the nose but delivers that feeling of being on the Brazilian coastline. No doubt a classic over there and one I hope to encounter while sipping my morning coffee at my future favourite spot.
Stumbling across this light jazz number towards the end of listening session, a favourite from the Japanese Jazz playlist I had great fun delving into.
Nike Fuelband, patent leather Air Force 1s and two Yeezy’s off of Virgil’s old blog, an era dripping in nostalgia. One day I hope to drop a Bobbito-style book with my life’s take on footwear but for now, a small dump on the website will have to do.
September Poetry: Dishwasher
I was in that moment, more conscious of being alone. No one to share a to-and-fro with, merely a gentle breeze as my companion, one that ad been there for quite some time, walking hand-in-hand consoling many a sole that spent its time on earth as one. This was and is a moment that people will share when letting others into their home. Happy to have guests but less inclined to enjoy washing the dishes after they’ve left. Although that’s what dishwashers are for.
June Poetry: Words On York
The history was palatable,
From the grass tucked between the cobbled streets,
to the cold faces of men
scribed onto the Minister walls.
It wasn't the first time that men managed to clamber onto
history through the labour
of other men.
The toil of forgotten souls who
spent days carving cold stone,
only for those inside to look
to the sky in search of theirs.
Friendly voices would echo against the cavernous walls of the Minister,
thousands of hours etched into sounds that would leap out onto the ears of eager-minded travellers.
"The word for apple is also the word for fruit in Latin",
beckoned one of the more lively tour guides,
another simple mistake that had managed to perch itself within culture for centuries.
Decades of musical references at once dispelled by a tentative historian,
his only hope be that more people spread the same message.
Upon entering,
One of the Fathers would utter words
in a moment of prayer,
people would sit in silence,
returning to childhood experiences when
older people were the voice of reason,
all of whom were looking for one small
moment to let go of responsibilities
and forget the family sat next to them,
most of whom were dependent on their strength
and guidance.
As the train drifted downwards,
the constraints would slowly fall back into position,
an unexplored city now less enigmatic,
a string of kind people
and good coffee
to thank.
June Poetry: Solace In Silence
The quiet times were always the loudest.
The grass would whisper,
the trees would coddle together,
preparing a surprise for the
humans' senses,
protecting the sun from
vengeful eyes
with its patchy branches.
Specks of light would
rush through,
a result of the trees position
among the sea of tall grass.
Both would bend to the wind,
days spent admiring the power
of a being that only
existed in passing,
reflecting on its fallen members
in a jovial compassion.
Neither the grass or the tree
would linger in its disposition.
The sun would shine regardless.
Thoughts on – Notebook on Cities and Clothes (1989) by Wim Wenders
I was recently listening to the MUBI podcast when I came across an interesting name, Wim Wenders. Little did I know, I had saved his “Paris, Texas” (1984) on my MUBI watchlist. During the podcast, the interviewer referenced a documentary that Wenders had made on Yohji Yamamoto which I immediately made note of. I knew little of Yohji Yamamoto’s work bar his adidas sub-label, Y-3. Wanting to learn more about the fashion designer, I found his documentary available on YouTube (although you can watch it for free via Vimeo).
The documentary was unlike any other I’d seen before, with a small digital screen playing while Wenders would simultaneously travel whichever City he was in. Two scenes stood out to me; 1 – the scene in which Yohji is adding his signature to the store sign outside his first shop, and two – the part where he is flicking through a book full of images of people from what seems like the 40s. This quote also stood out to me:
“Form and material, same old dilemma, same ritual as any other craft. Stand back, look, approach again, grasp, feel, hesitate, then sudden activity and then another long pause. After a while I began to see a certain paradox in Yohji’s work, what he creates is necessarily ephemeral. Victim to the immediate and voracious consumption which is the rule of his game. After all, fashion is about here and now. It only deals with today, never yesterday. By the same token, Yohji was inspired by the photographs of another time and by the work clothes of an era when people lived by a different rhythm and when work had a different sense of dignity. So it seemed to me Yohji expressed himself in two languages simultaneously; he played two instruments at the same time. The fluid and the solid. The fleeting and the permanent. The fugitive and the stable.” – Wim Wenders narration [20:15-21:15].
The scene at around 105 minutes also echoes this idea, as Yohji is fascinated by the people captured in the book. The quote taps into many themes, such as authenticity and ever-increasing cycles of fashion, both of which are more relevant than ever today. Given the documentary was recorded and released in 1989, it acts as another reminder of the power of nostalgia. As part of the Zillenial tribe who laments the simpler childhood days of the ‘90s, I didn’t realise it was the same for every other generation who were stuck romancing the past.
The people in the photos were born in a time when people were more present. People played less of a character as their circle of inspiration was smaller, the world felt smaller. Labour and goods wasn’t as frequently exported so the clothes of people reflected the hands-on nature of their role. The digital world was yet to exist so reality was very much in the here and now, playing out right in front of you, therefore you had to be dressed accordingly.
Clothing and textiles were nation or even state/county-based, therefore quality and function were that much better. These were clothes that would be lived in for years, also had to put up with the climate and ongoing hardships. Yohji understands this much better than most. This intimate level of knowledge can be seen throughout the entirety of his work.
Yohji eloquently summarises this when flicking through the book, “Men Of The Twentieth Century” by August Sander, “I’m especially curious about their faces, because of their career, life, business. They have exactly the right faces for that I think. I’m admiring their faces and clothing. For example, when I look at people on the street in a modern city, sometimes I can’t understand which profession they join in, they all look the same for me. But in this time, people looked like their profession and their background, their faces are their name card. Their clothes are very representative of their business and lives, so firstly I look at their faces and then imagine their profession.”
For perhaps the first time in centuries,there exists a gap between our identity and our work. This gap has only gotten wider since the documentary first aired, with the likelihood of it only expanding further. I recommend giving the documentary a watch, which you can do so here.
Random Writings: The Big Red Balloon
The balloon was beginning to frustrate him. Its pull grew increasingly larger as the wind picked up. His coat had seen better days as well, drenched by the westerly showers that this particular region was known for. It had often protected him from the brash environment of the underground, not that it ever rained there. If it did, it would have truly been the most miserable place on earth, but luckily for him, British transport had the tendency of being waterproof. The balloon overhead wavered while he remained fixed in his position, eager to prove the naysayers wrong. He could feel the blood slowly start to fall away from his hand, the lack of dexterity pointed out by the marching of ants down one side of his arm. He’d always hated pin and needles, early childhood memories filled with the ongoing fear of sitting still for too long. Clinging onto this great red floating object in the sky had begun to become more than a physical nuisance.
Skepta Wearing the Oakley Factory Team Flesh
Back in February, Skepta was sent to Japan on a PR campaign to explore his relationship with PUMA. Sabukaru did a great piece on this titled “24 Hours in Tokyo with Sabukaru, Skepta and PUMA”. It’s definitely worth checking out as it gives you an interesting look behind the scenes. Apart from the trip being a marketing piece for the newly created Velophasis silhouette, the multi-hyphenated artist managed to visit the PUMA archive in Germany, where he no doubt kept an eye open for a silhouette for his next collab.
A few days later, Skepta took to JME’s BadmanOnline Twitch channel during a late-night studio session, proceeding to show off a pair of creps he’d picked up on his trip. “You lot seen these? Mad tings, make sure to take an extra suitcase cause they’ve got some serious stuff out there”, he said while showing off a pair of the Brain Dead x Oakley Factory Team Flesh in the “Iron Brown” colourway to the people on the stream.
Oakley has been trickling back into the functional wear scene as Instagram accounts such as @inside.tag put people on game. As the hype for Nike’s ACG division slowly moved into Arcteryx between 2019-2021, other authentic brands such as 66 Degrees North and Oakley are now the focus for people who are tuned into the scene. While Oakley is far from breaking out onto the mainstream stage, people with an actual interest in outdoor wear are happily gathering up all the early 2000s and ‘90s pieces knowing the brand’s existing reputation as authentic functional wear.
The Oakley Factory Team Flesh is an interesting silhouette to say the least, created in June of 2000 and like other footwear that was released at the time, was way ahead of the curve. The neoprene booty entry foregoes the need for laces, while the upper’s water-wicking abilities and Open-cell Aeroprene ensure your feet don’t get wet or sweaty. The most interesting component is definitely the sole unit, with its wavering midsole and Traction Pod system underfoot that enhanced “tactile awareness”. This was perhaps Oakley’s attempt to dip its toe into the world of minimal footwear, a field that adidas was exploring with its Feet You Wear range from the ‘90s and ACG’s experimental pieces that ex-Nike designer Steve McDonald previews on his Instagram account.
Surprisingly, the Factory Team Flesh doesn’t stand out like a sore thumb among Oakley’s back catalogue of footwear, with the brand often leaning into the theme of unconventional design. It’ll be interesting to find out who was the creative lead for Oakley during that era, especially as we see archival models make a comeback through collaborations with Brain Dead. As Skepta’s track record has proven time and time again, the artist has an eye for good taste, so let’s hope we get more tasty revivals from Oakley.
wear shoes, write poems 