Scribbles & Doodles

[mayaisapapaya]

On a night like this

On a night like this it’s not easy to discard the temptation to deny our lust,

Our bodies yearning for that delicate yet destructive touch,

Caught up in our memories of what we once had neither of us aware that it’s too late for this,

The forbidden territory adding to the passion that always was and always will be between us.

The passion that takes me home The passion that takes you home and then carries you away into the arms of the other.

We end our affair as you go out into the night thinking that we are on the same level

When really my passion for you is deeper than sex, It runs through my veins through my blood to my heart,

I will not tell you though, for that will have us fall apart

[mayaisapapaya]

In Memory Of

In Memory Of by Maya Dupont

It was Christmas was it not? That day I saw you standing with your back against the wall?

I noticed you and talked to you about nonsensical things, yet nevertheless intrigued by what we had to say.

I remember now the clutter of bikes and kids and toys and chatter that surrounded us on that damp and gloomy day, yet your face was glowing removed from everything else.

In my memory you were and are and always will be wearing that blue jacket, that you wore so nonchalantly.

You looked at me, and smiled at me, was it then I fell in love?

[mayaisapapaya]

Distant Dream of a Family

Part I

Imagine a wide open field, with a few shrubs growing in the red glow of the earth, and off in the distance stands an olive tree – strong stout and relentless. That olive tree is him. His immense, graying trunk firmly rooted in the ground, a symbol of his strength, his wisdom. His many branches shooting off in all directions, an indication of his sensitivities and understanding. There’s a soft breeze that rustle his pale green leaves and carry them away into the distance - little tokens of his wisdom, his impressions implanted in the world. As the seasons pass, more and more of those leaves are swept away, until all that is left is the skeleton of the magnificent tree that once stood there so proud.

It seems that now a different kind of tree stands there in that field, I hardly recognize it and I am insulted by the imposter that took its place.  This imposter is slow and forgetful, sometimes he forgets even me. “Who are you and what was your name?” these questions shot to me like an arrow to the heart, ring in my ear, over and over and over again. Yet, I know I’m being selfish. It must be hard for him also, but never does he let it show. He shrugs it off nonchalantly as if it’s not a bother in the world, but sometimes I can see it. I can see it in his eyes that he is scared, or sad, or lonely. His friends have gone before him and he is reminded by his aches and sores that he will soon be next.

He is 74 and I am 21. It is strange to think that he has lived an entire life without me - him so old, and me so young, our worlds a generation apart. I rummage through my old box of memories, to look up a picture of his youth. The photograph is old and weathered but the face staring back at me is young. He is in his army uniform and wears the same somber expression worn in all photographs of that time. If the photograph were coloured, I would see his blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at me, features so different to my dark coloured eyes and my almost-black-hair. I stare at him in the picture and in my mind he comes alive.

Snapshot images of him as a kid rush through my head. I see him as a kid riding a bicycle through alleys and streets not yet cluttered by cars. I see him fighting with his seven older brothers and sisters for the last serving of dinner which he never would win. Flash forward through my made up memories and I see him out in the town, cruising for girls and booze and running a mock with the boys. Flash forward again and I see him on exotic adventures with or without my mom. I see him on his wedding day; he’s had more than one. I see all this in a shade of sepia, a marker of the time gone past and the crinkles in the photograph a reminder of the wrinkles yet to come.

When I was younger, and so was he, he used to be my friend. He would take me by the hand and eagerly show me the ways of the world. We would gallivant through streets and boroughs stopping at only the finest places, for food, for drinks, and presents for me - whilst he narrated the history of his life and the city. Now I’m not as sure as to where our friendship stands. It is strained at times and confused like him. I miss him though - even though he is still here with me. It is hard to watch a loved one grow old. I see him disappearing with the years, like the gradual fading of a photograph. Bleaker and bleaker until there is no more but a distant dream, a mere memory of the person he once was.

He is 74 and I am 21. He is my father and I his daughter. I am still his daughter but I am now also his mother. I am not ready to be a mother; I hardly know how to be a daughter. But as he once was there for me, I will be there for him.

[mayaisapapaya]

You & Me

YOU AND ME AND YOUR MANGY DOG ON A COUCH IN YOUR HOUSE WITH ENOUGH DRINKS TO STAY UP AS LATE AS WE WANT TO, EATING TAKE AWAY AND IGNORING ALL THE PEOPLE WHO ARE CALLING US ON OUR MOBILE PHONES, BECOMING MORE AND MORE AWARE OF THE FACT THAT THIS IS PROBABLY NOT THE MOST HEALTHY TIME OF OUR LIVES BUT IT IS DEFINATELY ONE OF THE MOST FUN MOMENTS IN OUR LIVES, AND THAT IT IS WORTH IT, EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF IT, SO WE HOLD HANDS AND WE LAUGH AND WE CRY FOR HOURS AS WE TRY NOT TO BLEED…

[mayaisapapaya]

LOST & FOUND MAGAZINE

by Maya Dupont

Smart, chic, sophisticated – with a touch of crazy. That’s how I would describe the launch party last night of Amsterdam’s new free fashion and lifestyle magazine Lost & Found Magazine. Words quite characteristic of the magazine itself.

The launch party was held at the Magna Plaza and was by invitation only. An open bar, DJ’s behind the decks accompanied by some live piano music and the hustle and bustle of well-dressed people meeting and greeting on the dance floor.

The founder of the magazine British publisher/creative & fashion director Leonie Summerbee proudly introduced her new magazine with a short speech and a thank you to her fashionista team who have helped realize her dream with the release of the new Lost & Found Magazine.

Lost & Found Magazine is “for those who like to lose themselves in music, art, fashion and experience the fine things Amsterdam has to offer”. For a fairly pretentious magazine, its surprisingly unpretentious - “we are not about the expensive things in life, but the best things in life” quoted by Ms. Summerbee herself.

The bimonthly magazine will be free of charge and distributed in Amsterdam in over 500 locations. Think stores, universities, galleries, hotels, spa’s and restaurants. The first edition is out now – go and get yourself a copy and don’t miss out on the finer things Amsterdam has to offer!

[mayaisapapaya]

Enter the Unknown World of: Ellebanna

 by Maya Dupont

“I want each collection to speak for itself. You put the costume on and you get a feeling of what the costume does to you as a person, how it changes your movements. It all kind of evolves from there.”

Annabelle Widmann is the name behind the up and coming concept of Ellebanna. Ellebanna is not so much an acronym as the backward reading of the designer’s first name Annabelle. To categorize Ellebanna as a clothing brand would not do justice to the creative vision which it represents. It stands for the unification of the young designers three main passions; art, fashion and performance. 

At age 23, Annabelle is fervently following her family’s footsteps in their creative orientation. Born to a sculptor and an artist, she has always been surrounded by inspirational people, as well as the eccentric elite of Ibiza - the island in which she was raised. Currently studying in Brighton, she took the time to talk to Amsterdam Today about the influences of island life on her designs, the thematic development of her theatrical performances, and her new project Recycle Art.

Annabelle is adamant about the inspiration that growing up on the island has had on her designs. She considers herself lucky to have grown up there. “You take in more than your average kid growing up in London I would think” she says referring to the beautiful nature which envelops the island. “Nature plays a big role on the island; you’re constantly in contact with [it] which in turn inspires my designs”. She also refers to the open mindedness of the island people “the people on the island are very open, all ages communicate with one another so it opens your mind as a child”. It is probably such a philosophy which motivated her to start with her first big show at only 20 years of age. 

The young designer has already hosted various shows across the UK and Ibiza. To call them fashion shows would, again, be an understatement. From her more wearable hippy chique collection of 2008, she has now ventured into the direction of costume design or “sculptural costumes” as she refers to them herself. These extravagant designs often involve working with unconventional materials such as metal, plastic, paper, or even recycled waste. “I find creating the costume has become more like creating an art piece rather than just a fashion item to get mass produced” - and the performance shows are a way to bring her designs to life. “You put the costume on and you get a feeling of what the costume does to you as a person, how it changes your movements and it all kind of evolves from there”.

When asked about the development of her performances she gives credit to all the people who have helped her realize her dream:- “People help me a lot. People who are willing to help really influence what we do and the show we put on”. This refers to her haphazard/organic method of putting on a show which consists of gathering a unit of creative people to come together and basically – do what they do best - whilst wearing her designs. “The idea of the show is to promote each individual in what they do – if she’s a model then she can walk like a model, if they do back flips then I want them to do the back flip – I want to get the best qualities out of everyone participating!” she adds enthusiastically. Remarkably, all the shows she has put up have so far been realized through contributions of like minded creative volunteers.  Few people have the vision or the passion to inspire such creativity in people, and at such a young age.

In essence her performance art is all about creating a fusion between the performance and her costumes. The designer says herself:- “what I’m really after is that the costume becomes the performance rather than the performer doing the performance becomes the performance. I want the costume to be the focus of the attention and the movements of the performer should enhance the qualities of the costume and make it come alive. You become part of the costume and that should start speaking for itself.” The description ties in nicely with her criteria for her designs. She says she wants her costumes to “enhance a dance” - again emphasizing the fusion of aesthetics and movement.

When asked about future projects she refers me to her new undertaking of Recycle Art. Recycle Art is a new project which she is setting up in Ibiza with hopes of going beyond the Spanish border. The project consists of an intensive course for people of all ages to learn how to create costumes out of recyclable materials and then to perform their own costumes through a “sensorial performance”. Sensorial performance, originating from the US, is a new and engaging way of involving the audience in the performance by playing with their senses through touch, sight and smell. Widmann says that the sensorial performance “goes well with the recycle art project since not everyone wants to be touching waste products, yet we are creating beautiful designs from them. The beauty of it is that nobody really notices the costumes are made from waste products until they come up close and see the designs”.

So far her projects have not been financially beneficial to her or her creative volunteers. However, she hopes to continue on this path to eventually be financially independent so that she can “start paying these amazing people who have helped me” as well as develop her theatrical concepts. Despite the financial short-comings, in her 2009 show at Atzaro, she did a fund raiser by selling raffles to raise money for Motor Neuron Disease – a rare disease but one which a close family member suffered from. In totally they raised “over 1000 euro” she says proudly.

Speaking to the young designer leaves a sense of amazement at the simplicity necessary for the magic that she creates. All one needs is a vision, and an organic beauty to inspire people to involve themselves with her projects. Today I entered the unknown world of Ellebanna. It is a world of creativity and inspirations which I hope will spread worldwide!

Videos and photos of her shows can be found at www.ellebanna.com 

[mayaisapapaya]

Au Bout Du Monde – the more we share the less we need

By Maya Dupont

     “When the shop first opened, it was just an empty room with nothing in it but a huge round table” – Waltraud Puschine

     This table would prove to be iconic for the esoteric book store found on the Singel 313 in Amsterdam. “People were curious to see what this man was doing in an empty store, with a set of maybe 12 books. They would come in and join him at his table for tea and cigarettes. It was these people that became his first customers and would remain so 20 years later” says Waltraud Puschine, a former employee of Au Bout du Monde.

     Walk into the store now and not much has changed: a round table in the back, stacked with tea and coffee and if you’re lucky – a bite to eat. Except now the tall bookshelves lining the walls are filled with books on eastern philosophies (Indian, Chinese, Japanese) and all the western philosophies that developed from the eastern thinking. Each book is a sign of the long journey that the store has been through. Amsterdam Today took the time to talk to the people of Au Bout du Monde – from past employees and owners, to current staff. It appears they each share a common goal: to continue the slow-cooked wisdom of eastern philosophies in a capitalist consumerist society.

Leon Dupont opened the doors of Au Bout du Monde in Jan. 1970. He dropped his job as a successful executive in advertising and marketing:- “I was fed up trying to sell things that I had no interest in buying myself” he says, and opted instead to pursue a life of spiritual fulfillment. “The idea to open shop was quite a magical moment. It came about whilst I was meditating and the room I was in transformed into a book store. When the moment passed, I knew I was going to open the book store which became Au Bout du Monde” Leon says. “I was particularly inspired by a book called ‘In Search of the Miraculous” by a Russian author called Ouspensky. His book gave me a new understanding of myself and the world”.

His former employee and lifetime friend Puschine explains the climate to which Au Bout du Monde opened its doors. “It was the time of the hippies. Our parents had worked hard to recover the economy during the post war period. They were very much involved with material possessions. My generation didn’t need to work as hard, we were profiting from the common wealth, which allowed us to pursue alternative values of spirituality and eastern philosophy – at least, for a certain group of people” Puschine recounts.

At the time Au Bout du Monde was the only book store of the sorts in the Netherlands, which added greatly to its success. “We even had some famous customers like The Beatles drummer Ringo Starr and the writer/philosopher Alan Watts.” Leon reminisces. Due to the opening of several other esoteric book stores around the city, Au Bout du Monde has lost some of its previous success. However, current owner Harm Saeijs is positive about the future of the book store:- “Former clients are coming back after many years, and every day new clients find the place. Best of all, every day we have people coming in telling us what a wonderful place it is, and how good the service is!”

Aside from the books on eastern wisdoms, the shop also offers handmade Buddha’s and tara’s, Tibetan flags, and handmade pottery and postcards. On certain days of the week the shop also organizes different activities and workshops such as the tarot readings by Felice Derkinderen. For dates and times check the website www.auboutdumonde.nl.

[mayaisapapaya]

The Effects of Facebook on Social Behaviour

by Maya Dupont

In the past decade there has been a steady influx of people using social network sites. In short, a social network site refers to an online platform for which users create personal profiles in order to connect to other peoples’ profiles to create an online community. Some popular examples include Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter. Since different network sites vary slightly in purpose and presentation, this paper will focus specifically on the social network site Facebook.  Although there are several other social network sites that date to much earlier times, the popularity of Facebook, as well as certain specific functions of the site, make it an interesting bit player in society with regards to media effects. However, due to the relatively new emergence of Facebook there appears to be a lack of relevant literature concerning the effects of this new type of online interaction. In response, this paper will attempt to explore the effects that Facebook will have on our social behaviour, using a Lacanian psychoanalytic framework. Since its launch in 2004, Facebook has an estimated 600 million active users, which constitutes for about 1/5th of the world’s population.[1] A study done by Nielsen Online, suggests that the average user spends approximately 7 hours on Facebook per month. This in comparison to the 17 minutes per month we spend on informational sites such as Wikipedia provides a clear indication of the active role Facebook plays in our society.[2] In essence, the popularity of Facebook can be attributed to the idea that it acts as an extension of oneself. This idea can be corroborated through several functions of the site. One of the most obvious one’s being that a user’s profile page is assigned to one’s real name as opposed to a fictional username, creating a direct link between user and profile. Other examples include the uploading of personal pictures, as well as tagged pictures, relationship statuses, events attended, interests, and one’s online ‘friends’. Consequently, Facebook becomes a domain people use to present themselves to their online community - led by the scopophillic desire of the user to look and to be looked at by their ‘friends’.

This concept of scopophilia gained popularity in the 70’s when film theorist Laura Mulvey used it in relation to the male gaze, spectatorship, and voyeurism in cinema.[3] In essence scopophilia acts as an umbrella term for the desire to look and be looked at, dividing the term in the passive and active role.  This paper will borrow the term voyeur and apply it to the active role of looking whilst the passive role of being looked at will be referred to as exhibitionism. Although Mulvey’s concept of scopophilia is not directly applicable to the study of Facebook, her ideas were very much influenced by French philosopher Jacques Lacan with regards to his psychoanalytic framework on the development of the ego.  Building on Freud’s structural model of the psyche (id, ego, super-ego), Lacan distinguishes between the Ideal-ego, the Ego-ideal and the Super-ego. I want to propose that these different divisions of the psyche can be identified with certain aspects of Facebook. The ideal-ego, according to Lacan, is the part of the psyche that constructs the notion of the ideal-self (who you want to be). In the case of Facebook this idea runs parallel to the construct of one’s personal Facebook page. For example, the exhibitionist will try to satisfy their ideal ego on Facebook by adding only certain friends, posting only certain pictures and updating their status only once every so often to create this image of the ‘ideal self’. However, this image of oneself can only be confirmed by the ego-ideal, the part of the psyche that looks to the “other” to confirm the ideal self by looking at how this self is perceived by the imaginary “other”. This notion of the imaginary other as a self identification mechanism can be said to take on the form of the multitude of faceless ‘friends’ in one’s network. For although the exhibitionist does not see these people looking at one’s profile, he/she is undoubtedly aware of their presence and in response to this, the exhibitionist will present themselves in such a way that satisfies both the ideal-ego, the ego-ideal, and the super-ego. The super-ego is the meta-arching component of the psyche which prohibits certain actions, desires, and fantasies, in its’ strive for “perfection”. In How to Read Lacan by Zizek, he refers to the super ego as the “cruel and insatiable agency which bombards me with impossible demands and which mocks my failed attempts to meet them” in this way it acts as the socialization/policing process which allows us to be functioning members of society.[4],[5] However, since this reading of the super-ego, society has undergone several societal changes. It appears that over time we have become a lot less conservative – think back to Victorian times for example. Freud would attribute this phenomenon to the gradual release of the super-ego. Through the gradual release of the super ego there has come a paradigm shift from norms and values to extremities and obscenities illustrated by our public display on Facebook. So although the interplay between the ideal-ego and the ego-ideal becomes clear, it is in fact this ‘release’ of the super-ego which motivates us to become voyeurs and exhibitionists on Facebook. 

Resulting from this interrelation between the psyche and Facebook, there appears to be a disconnect between the realities of Facebook and the realities of one’s life. This disconnect is created by trying to satisfy the ideal-ego through the ego-ideal, or the imaginary ‘other’, by means of one’s Facebook profile. Through the dichotomous relationship of the exhibitionist and the voyeur, one is constantly trying to impress the ‘invisible other’. Although this ‘other’ might not be visible, one is constantly aware of their presence as well as their judgments.  It is these silent judgments which cause a feeling of anxiety made not only by the impossible demands of the voyeur, but also through the exhibitionist’s act of voyeurism since he/she feels the need to compare their own status with that of others.  Jodie Dean mentions this experience in her book Blog Theory under the concept of communicative capitalism.[6] A simplified interpretation would suggest that the images uploaded to Facebook that the voyeur enjoys looking at are those of the exhibitionist doing some fun activity; this then creates some sort of inferiority complex which turns into anxiety from the feeling that everybody else is having more fun, yet the user can’t stop looking since it is these images which the user relies on for a sense of self worth/identification. This idea can be related to an example Douglas Rushkoff included in his book Program or be Programmed in which he describes a situation of a girl who actively lives her life in order to document it with digital photos to upload it to Facebook.[7] Although she uploads these photos for her online ‘friends’, indirectly she is doing it to gain a sense of self identification through the eyes of the Other. In conclusion, although Facebook is a social network site used primarily with the notion to keep in touch with ‘friends’, it has become clear that certain functions of Facebook clearly affect social behaviour and interactions.  Facebook appeals to our desire to look and to be looked at and to fulfill this desire we are constantly updating our profile’s, through photo’s, status updates and events attended. This desire speaks to us on two levels; one of the voyeur who enjoys looking, and the other of the exhibitionist who enjoys being looked at. Although different in nature, essentially they are both done to satisfy the narcissistic pleasure of reaffirming one’s self identity through the imaginary Other. Naturally these are not the only consequences which Facebook has/will have on our social behaviour, but it is an attempt to reveal the different layers on which the addictive nature of Facebook works.

  [1] Carlson, Nicholas

[2] The Nielsen Company

[3] Mulvey, Laura

[4] Zizek, Slavoj

[5] Freud, Sigmund

[6] Dean, Jodie

[7] Rushkoff, Douglas

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Numb

Numb by Maya Dupont

  And so I stood there, listening to the goddamn thing go round and round and round again. I stood there staring at the faded linoleum floor in the yellowed glow of the fluorescent lights. I was staring, but I wasn’t really seeing. I had crawled too far into me and my misery to really see anything as of late. It was as if someone had dimmed the lights of all the colour in the world and instead left everything looking dull and grey.

And so I stood there. I was entranced by the rhythmic sound of the machine, a steady drone that could be the new soundtrack to the rest of my life for all I cared. What would it matter anyway? I had already lost the ability to smile or dance or hear the beauty in the music. I lost all that when I lost him.

I realized as I was standing there that I should never have left the house. I wasn’t ready for it. Not at all, in any shape or form whatsoever. I could see the reflection of my strained face in the glass of the laundry machine and for the first time I could see how my face had aged over the past few months. Maybe it was because I wasn’t eating anymore. Maybe it was the drugs.

I thought I had shot up enough to feel comfortably numb but the high was wearing off and my demons were coming back again. Yeah that’s right - I had taken over the very vice that had taken the life of my lover. I tried to stop him, I really thought I could. Instead I let him take me down with him. I couldn’t help it though, I really loved the kid. I really, really loved him. I felt my eyes water up as a single tear rolled down my cheek. Impatient to get home, hearing the click of the laundry machine came as a relief. I grabbed the clothes, dumped them in my bag, pulled my oversized coat tight around my frail body and made my way home.

Once I was back in my apartment I got out my medicine, cooked it up and shot it into my veins – instant relief. I pottered around my dirty kitchen, made myself a cup of tea and curled up into my bed. Oh man, how did I let it get this far? I kept thinking to myself. I could still hear his voice and feel his presence around the house. I wondered if it was ever gonna leave me, did I even want it to leave me?  The wounds of the last few months were still fresh.

Tony had picked up his habit again after his old friend Jake had come back into the picture. I still remember the first day I had busted him when he came home high and how he told me it was gonna be all right, that it was just this one time. I should have known better. I remember him stumbling up the stairs with the tell tale glazed look over his eyes. I could still hear the arguments and false promises like shadows echoing around the room.

“You’re high, aren’t you?” “No.” “Yes you are, don’t lie to me, I can see it in your eyes.” “Ok, so what?” “What do you mean ‘so what’? I thought you promised me you were gonna lay off that shit.” “Yeah well, shit happens.”

“Shit happens? That’s all you’ve got to say? You stay clean for just a few months after coming to me crying that you wanted to get off this shit, begging for my help? For Christ’s sake Tony, I’m pregnant with your baby and all you care about is getting your next fix! How many times do I have to tell you, I can’t keep doing this anymore. Not with the little one on its way. Soon I’ll be having to take care of the both of you! Who’s gonna take care of me Tony, huh? Did you think about that one? DO YOU EVEN CARE?” I couldn’t help but scream at him. I knew it wasn’t going to help, with the state that he was in – in one ear and out the other that’s how it always was with him when he was high. I couldn’t believe I had let it get this far and yet I knew I didn’t have a choice. Despite all his flaws, I loved the guy. He was the father of my baby and nothing was gonna take him away from me.

“Oh give me a break Chelsea, I just needed a little something to take the edge off of things y’know? Come on baby, don’t be mad, it was just this once and it won’t happen again! You know I love you too much baby, come on and sit on the couch with me, let’s just enjoy each other for a while.”

 As naïve as I was, I believed him. I had believed him every time he told me he was gonna clean up his act. Now that I was on the stuff myself, I realized I was waiting for something that was never gonna happen. “Once an addict, always an addict,” my father had told me one of the rare occasions I had gone to him for advice. “But you don’t know him like I do dad, I know he’ll get it together! He simply has to with our baby girl on the way!” I remember telling him. Perhaps I was trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince him. I remember clearly how my dad simply shook his head in disappointment. His silence should have told me enough.

Unsurprisingly, Tony had died of an overdose. This happened only two months after he had started using again. Things had gone from bad to worse in the space of only two months. After that first time I had busted him, he never did clean up his act. He would come home high every night and invite his junky friends round our house. I don’t know why I didn’t leave him right there and then. Any ordinary person would have, only my relationship with Tony was anything but ordinary. We were lovers since high school. We went through everything together, and trust me, I was no saint either back in those days. Only things changed for me when I got pregnant. I knew enough that I had to clean up my act if I wanted to bring our baby into the world. And oh how I would have loved that baby.

Only our baby never had a chance. A few months into my pregnancy I had gone for a check-up at the hospital. That was when the doctor told me the bad news. I’d had a miscarriage and I was devastated. For some reason I blamed it all on Tony. Even though I knew it wasn’t his fault, I couldn’t help but blame him. I was in a bad state. We walked home together and I couldn’t stop crying. Even Tony was crying. He held his arm tight around my shoulders and tried to comfort me as best he could.

 “What did I do to deserve this Tony? Was I a bad momma?” I sobbed into his shoulder. “No baby, you can’t blame yourself, these things happen you know, it wasn’t your fault!”

Back at the house, the first thing Tony did was grab his stash and cook it up. “You want some?” he asked me. “It will make you feel better, I promise.” I shook my head, “No”.

“Are you sure?” He asked again. I saw his eyes glaze over and a serene sense of calm capture his body. In my state of shock, I didn’t know what else to do but say “yes.” I wanted to forget the pain just like him. It wasn’t fair for me to be suffering whilst he was sitting there numbed. For once I didn’t feel like taking care of anybody. I wanted somebody to take care of me. “Yes, give me some,” I said and I held my arm out for him to inject me.

 Tony gave me some and then took some more himself. “I love you,” he said. I felt the drug take-over my body, it was a strange sensation, my breathing slowed down and I became increasingly calm. I couldn’t feel my body anymore. I felt numbed. As I was sitting there just starting to relax, I saw Tony turning pale, and then blue. He fell off his chair and was having some sort of seizure. 

I tried to help him but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I could only stare at him, my limp hand tried to reach out and call to him “Buhhh” was all that I heard coming out of my mouth. I tried again but I couldn’t move. I used the little power that I had and threw my body on the floor next to his. “Buhhh” I tried to speak again but it was too late. I could see the life slowly draining out of him. His eyes fluttered open for one brief second and looked into mine “I’m sorry”.

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The Merry Pranksters

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Stop looking at me.

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I support Tacheles - Kunsthaus Berlin

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Hipster chique?

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Fashion & Culture

 The unification of a seemingly most obvious idea: CULTURE and FASHION.

Through the two conflicting concepts of nationalism and globalization it becomes ever more important to have such organizations as MMEC working on projects such as the cultural trade show. This combination of Fashion and Culture functions not only to create unity between the different cultures but also to ensure sustainability of our historical heritage. The identity of a nation is more than just the nationality of a country but relates to the shared ethnicity, religion and culture of that country - the ethos of what differentiate it from the rest of the world. The increasing inter-connectedness of society has resulted in an increase in the homogenization of cultures and identities. In this way globalization is threatening culture as well as national identity and consequently enhances feelings of distrust in what Ulrich Beck describes as our Risk Society. It is important that despite the process of globalization we keep these different cultures alive.

The Fashion Convention aims to keep these traditions alive through means of fabrics and different sensory experiences. In hope of fulfilling these aims Fashion Convention will be hosting several events leading up to the main International Cultural Trade Show which will be hosted in the last week of Amsterdam Fashion Week. I’m looking forward to being part of the hustle and bustle of MMEC and I hope that you guys will too!

Keep tuned for upcoming events!

Love, Papaya