You talk about the 19th century having very similar problems to today. Is there someone you see from that period as having an approach to those problems that you try to emulate?
There was a man named Paschal Beverly Randolph. I wouldn’t say that he had any solutions to the time, but he embraced the kind of hodgepodge nature of the 19th century. In fact, I got a lot of fashion from him, even if you look at his image.
Happy Friday Thursday. *sings in Hamilton* Take a break. Clearly I need one!! Lol!
Many thanks to Sowande’ Mustakeem who shared this video and encourages us to daannnnnnceeeeeeeeee. Self care is an act of resistance. And this video is lush, a romp through a bayou filled with black fairies, menacing frogs, and gothic imagery.
I don’t know how I missed that one of my favorite authors wrote a novella set in New Orleans during the Haitian migration to the city in 2010!!! So glad this post connected me to “Effluent Engine”–and I can’t wait to read it!
HoloHalo is a speculative science fiction project and the brainchild of artist Senongo Akpem. The HoloHalo is described as “a holographic communication device that learns and adapts to you. Autonomously project colors and patterns that sync with your mood.” The site provides specs on the software and hardware needed to make your halo work, and gifs model the halo on Afrxdiasporic subjects.
Wowwwwwwww. I’m in love. And I want one. Can you imagine a Purple Lemonade halo? Or the halo around slavery scholars working in the slave ship’s archive or on maroonage?
There is an interview with Senongo Akpem, Creator of HoloHalo in Inverse:
big Bang: The singularity at the beginning of the universe
for five hundred years the essence of being black is that you can be transported. anywhere. anytime. anyhow. for five hundred years a black skin is a passport. to a lifetime of slavery. a guarantee that the european can carry out terrorist acts against the african with impunity. for five hundred years the european moves the african “all over the place.” at his behest and whim. and then one bright summer’s morning, he looks me in the eye and tells me: “you fucking people are all over the place.”