Photos by one of may favorite photographers, Peter Lindbergh, and one of my favorite photo subjects, stark black n white photos with the 90's supermodels.
Love Love.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Excerpt, Jay-Z
If you love Jay, sneak a peak of his book Decoded...
We Tote Guns to the Grammys
"Invisibility was the enemy, and the fight had multiple fronts. For instance, 1998 was an important year for hip-hop. It was two years after Pac (TuPac) had been gunned down, and just a year after Biggie was killed. DMX dropped two number one albums that year. Outkast released Aquemini, a game-changing album lyrically and sonically, but also for what it meant to Southern rap. (Juvenile's 400 Degreez, also released in '98, was a major shot in the growing New Orleans movement. I jumped on a remix of his single "Ha," which was a great mix of regional styles.) Mos Def and Talib Kweli had their Black Star album, one of the most definitive indie rap records of all time. The prototypical "backpack rappers," A Tribe Called Quest, released their last album, The Love Movement. And the biggest album of the year in any genre was The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.
It was a beautiful time all the way around in hip-hop. The album I released that year, Vol 2...Hard Knock Life, was the biggest record of my life. The opening week was unreal for me-we did more that three hundred thousand units, by far the biggest opening number for my career to that point. The album moved Lauryn Hill down to number four, but Outkast's Aquemini was right behind me, and The Love Movement was number three. Those four albums together told the story of young black America from four dramatically different perspectives-we were bohemians and hustlers and revolutionaries and space-age Southern boys. We were funny and serious, spiritual and ambitious, lovers and gangsters, mothers and brothers. This was the full picture of our generation. Each of these albums was an innovative and honest work of art and wildly popular on the charts. Every kid in the country had at least one of these albums, and a lot of them had all four. The entire world was plugged into the stories that came out of the specific struggles and creative explosion of or generation. And that was just the tip of the iceberg of what was happening in hip-hop that year.
So, in this incredible year for diverse strands of real hip-hop, what happens as the Grammy Awards? First, DMX, with two number one albums and a huge single, "Get At Me Dog," that brought rap back to its grimy roots, was completely snubbed. And then, in this years when rap dominated the charts an provided the most innovative and creative music you could find on the radio, they decided not to televise and of the rap awards. Rap music was fully coming into its own creatively and commercially, but still being treated as if it wasn't fit to sit in the company of the rest of the music community.
I was nominated three ties that year, but when they told us they weren't televising our awards I decided to stay home. It wasn't a big-deal, formal boycott. God knows there were bigger issues in the world. And eventually I started coming to the show and even performing. But not until they started showing rap the respect it deserves. The larger point was, I wasn't going to be a partner to my own invisibility."
Even at a young age I loved music. I cried for an hour when Mariah Carey lost to Whitney Houston at the Grammys one year. I was so young at the time I can't even tell you which year it was, but I do know I hid underneath a table until the tears stopped flowing in my living room. In no literal way could I possibly relate to Jay-Z on the level of being a hustler turned rapper turned mogul turned international superstar, but what I can relate to are the universal human to human experiences that life exposes all to. Even more so to distance myself from Jay-Z, I am biracial (asian and white) and he is black; which is not just a race but within it has a strong history and culture that I will never fully understand. In a very obvious way we are different, but perhaps with music being audio and not visual it creates a neutral area for all to absorb its content. In 1998 I was 10 years old, and it was probably one of the first years of my life I can accurately recall. I remember getting Lauryn Hill's The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill as a birthday present from my friend Hannah, and highly anticipating watching the Grammy's that year. Not because she was nominated so many times or because I was heavily involved in the maturing of rap that, but because I recognized her from starring in Sister Act 3.
I was too young to really appreciate the lyrical content of the album and the range in musicality Lauryn layered it with, but 12 years later I still have that same album playing in my '98 Passat flooding the interior of both my car and body with her beats, lyrics, and flows. We Tote Guns to the Grammys revealed insight into the lives of rap artists in '98. I was only watching as a naive fan, having no exposure to suppression, but having lived 12 years since that Grammys season, I find myself sad. Sad for those who were ignored, sad for those who ignored, and sad for a country that prides itself on equal opportunity seems to ignore the fact that even the arts seem to suppress those that are too different. In a year where so many talented forms of one the rap genre were enthusiastically consumed by masses, the critiques remained skeptics and "haters".
The idea of being invisible in Asian culture is prominent, for the saying goes, "the nail that sticks out gets hammered down", but I do not agree. Invisibility changes nothing. Being silent says nothing. Music is not only art but means for becoming visible in an audible sense especially in a world where appearances are so critically graded. Where your voice and your talent (should but not always) be the means for one's success regardless to your race, gender or whatever other descriptive factor a human possesses. Music brings together people of all genres not only annually at the Grammys, but also in space. In bars, clubs, restaurants, homes, and in my case especially in cars. So when you see a young hapa haole (half japanese-half white) girl raping along to Jay-Z's "Can I Get A" in a blue '98 Passat, acknowledge that as an American culture, rap is art that is bridging gaps that 12 years ago were even prevalent at the Grammys.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Devilin' in Blue
Sticking to the theme of Colors, I wanted to congratulate Coach K of the Duke Blue Devils on his legendary 880th win today. 12-0, Go Blue Devils!!!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Sooner than later, I told myself I'd start a blog
Instead of starting off 2011 with the birth of my own blog (and with the possibility of once again putting it off for yet another month or year...) I decided to end 2010 with a sense of accomplishment and putting to use the age old saying, carpe diem.
Although at this point I am only using this blog as a means for me to ramble, collect, and share thoughts, I do hope at least one person will find similarities or intrigue in what they view upon this little ol' blog.
Loves Loves,
Cassie
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