Olesya Ivanishcheva & Cirkeline Nielsen in “Beauty At Ease” William Lords, Models.com

Olesya Ivanishcheva & Cirkeline Nielsen take a deep breathe in “Beauty At Ease” by William Lords for Models.com. To give is to get… To honor the idea that there is something greater than ourselves… To accept that I won’t be able to understand everything, but I will be able to BELIEVE. A Crown of Thorns is worn to proudly bare out the beauty of the truth. Military goes mainstream with designs that defy our imagination. Newheart Ohanian gathers embellished accouterments, styled high with looks by Prada, Chanel, Gucci and Givenchy. Fashions and furs find their way mimicking costumes that fit a character for a play. Accessories expand their territory with belts worn as chokers & coats covered in a plethora of pins. Red clears a pathway over clean skin, creating a symbolic cross marked over the right eye. A black splash takes charge with lava like lid tones emerging out in a rush of onyx flush. A somewhat macabre image takes over the face, with crystallized spots splattered on specific areas of the skin. Appropriate in it’s timing, this captures the sinister nature of our current political climate. Baring out the art of the dark. Shot with intent, Lords lures us in with strong images that inspire us to think. Projecting our problems on to someone else is not the answer. We must first commit to taking the target on ourselves, only then will we be able to see outside of our own minds – and thus effect true change.

To see is to believe as eyes become true windows to the soul. Modern warpaint projects passion as madness turns to display. Tones transform, changing from a solid shade to a liquid state art evokes a sense of salvation. The black onyx rises in triumph as the rock repeals itself, slamming into skin like a chaotic expulsion. Gold leafed nail beds explode as glitter gives off a visceral response. Mutating forth from vibrant blue to a violet hue a conversion signals space for a metamorphosis to take place. Going with the consistency of goo, Moises Ramirez grabs a big glob of glorious red and lets it ooze all over the lids. It aint pretty, but something in the non-consistency of color makes us take notice. Symbolism cries out with creativity doubling our visual pleasure. Blue shadow drags itself over the lids and down the nose, as purple follows suit, highlighted by a golden hue. These faces are a force to be reckoned with, echoed forth with unyielding power. Gonn Kinoshita creates compelling coiffure with displays of asymmetry unlike we’ve seen. His shining showpiece has multi-layered bangs with safety pins that dig into a crown made up of Chanel. Not for the faint of heart, this story follows the feelings that starts to flow. The art of extreme is caught in a dream as daylight turns to midnight in a land of the in-between.

Letting go of what could be is a daunting challenge. We are equipped to deal with both winning and losing, but how do we handle it when the ground beneath us gone. That’s to say, though we’re still walking it feels like the solid floor we stand upon has fled. Misogyny isn’t a mere miscalculation, rather, it’s a daunting message about where we are as one. While we might feel like we’re ready for a growth spurt, the truth may be that we have something left to learn. And that’s a painful lesson. The kind of pain that seems to know no bounds. After the current gut-wrenching disappointment of defeat, came the shock, disbelief, anger & fright. Lamenting this loss brought an underlying ache. A reality we would all have to face. Still walking around in a kind of post-hypnotic shock state, I wake each morning to a moment of utter numbness. My eyes are open and my lungs take in air, but my brain goes to a place of quiet reflection, as it seeks protection. And, while I know this teeters on the religious line, I see this as a creative expression of reflective confusion. Only to be followed by my new Mind Altering Mantra ~ I Survived the Political Fight of 2016. 

I salute the stars… I signal the sky… for who I am… is a creature that flies. Brandishing the scars of my youth, I say without pause and dare not bury the truth. For what I am is a story, written on the windows of my mind, and it is here that I will seek to salvage the purity of my kind. Tear stained pain runs down my face, marking this time as a moment of sheer sadness.  poetic prose – tanyajo

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