Four days in a row I find myself at the Tidal Basin. Biking has been up my alley lately, though with the increased use of my bicycle and my consistent neglect of its health I have found myself with two run down brake pads and popping gears. I’ve been jaded by days of blossoms falling and pseudoreflection. The 2AM waters are calmer and I take still pictures, wanting conversations where there are none.
Occasionally my nighttime excursions end in fruition as I learn about people that pass in dim light and dark nights. A dedicated photographer or two, the groups of friends and couples who want a different perspective and fewer crowds.
It was warmer back then and I was stuck in a state of wonder. “Spring has come”, I thought. But I was quite wrong as the next week passed in storms and jackets.
And from those meanderings of biking and blossoms I jaded myself. I wore my distinctly striped skinny jeans and my light cardigan, open to influence from nature and people. Fashion. The Trashion show was rapidly approaching; I asked a friend to partake in the theme that had so jaded me.
And for the next week we worked on diluting beet juice to dye coffee filters, cutting up shower curtains to sew, bending a broken umbrella, and re-purposing my second grade science fair project (which was actually about bikes).
And now I must recover and get sleep.
Katsucon was the first convention I attended back 8 years ago and I haven’t missed one since. Going to conventions has become cathartic and habitual. As I sit here with a post-con fever and tests on the horizon, it’s interesting reflecting on how the convention (and conventions in general) have evolved. My first Katsucon (Katsucon 13) was attended at the ripe age of 13, and it has grown with me. Katsucon marks its 20th year in my 20th year.
I still recall my first Katsucon, I with my tan Ayu-esque coat (Kanon) nervously doddering next to my father in the Omni Shoreham Hotel; the convention had a good number of people at the time, but a couple years would see numbers double and a new location to fit the growing number of attendees. I’d like to think I arrived before the hey-day and helped guide the ever growing convention population, but it’s more likely I’m just one in a crowd.
Check out all my photos here:
The latter half of Saturday was spent inside. Ironically, the experience was all about being ‘Green’.
There are many inconsistencies at the festival and people/vendors with different perspectives on what in means to be ‘green’. On that note, it is a wonderful culmination of perspectives which helps one figure out what side of the fence they land on.
Vendors were arrayed throughout the convention room, some capitalizing on marketing for their brand, selling goods and healthy lifestyles, or giving samples to fill the belly. I enjoy the festival in all its marketing tactic wonder.
We are innovating our technologies to become more environmentally friendly after said technologies are put into use. The process of making them is still controversial (and rightly so), but I shall not use this post degrade into a criticism. The kids are learning- I feel that is a good step towards future sustainability/’green’ goals. Though I continually underestimate the amount education has affected me, it’s pretty darn important for teaching the basics. For American society to change we’re going to need bottom up changes in efficiency.
All in all, I quite enjoy these events.
Tuesday night and ‘Screaming Females’. It was a hasty decision, but sometimes the most unforeseen occurrences (black swan occurrences) are the most enjoyable. This one certainly was.
Friday spent itself at a housewarming for an apartment on 4th street. She bought black lights and put them behind all the glass in the room for a classy but edgy effect.
Before the rain dribbled, I managed to bike to H St and enjoy a handful of Saturday afternoon hours. The festival spread a mile long with vendors, stages, and the raw culture of upper DC.
The characteristic buildings and “on the brink of revitalization” culture really brings H st its modern look with history in the bricks.
This Thai chili sauce has made a brand for itself with the vendors wearing characteristic T-shirts with bold graphics.
The artist in the back played music and danced to his art making while asking the crowd to interact with the paintings by quite literally painting on his canvas. I tried it out, soon realizing that some coordination is required. The man in front free paints his art with raw colors.
A few youngsters attempt air guitaring to some heavy metal as cardboard clad warriors cheered them on.
‘Some Never Really Get’ rapping out H Street melodies.
Flamboyant flamenco dancers were amazingly coordinated and expressive- they bursted their steps with ease.
The simpler trade still causes happiness as a boy jumps up and down to a streetside drummer.
It’s simple, silver, and floating. I took the metro one stop backwards to Artisphere to enjoy an interactive exhibit from Andy Warhol. Accompanied by a friend, I played the hour until dusk set in.
A friend amidst the clouds
They peeled the clouds off the ceiling- unsuccessfully attempting to keep the ‘floaters’ down.
It’s a simple scene- perhaps almost disappointing to a first glance observer- but I spent hours there frolicking around. It’s definitely worth a few memories. The exhibit is quite contrary to what one might expect from the colorful works of Andy Warhol, but its soon realized this room of puffed up reflective pillows floating around in a breeze of fans has merit- and provides for a whole lot of fun.
I may have missed the reception a day before, but the white noise music and space to roam gave vivid memories to the dispersed chatter.
Take the metro to Rosslyn and play around before the exhibit closes in October.
The second Wednesday of the month fell to dusk in anticipation- the monthly bike party met at Dupont for 8pm riding.
This time, the ride strolled across the river, around a roundabout at Arlington Cemetery and back into the city. Seeing the roundabout complete a full circle of bikers with their flashing night lights was quite the spectacle.
During the ride, there is usually one lengthy break. This one was permeated by an occasional police officer- a common sight that both agitates and adds to the excitement of the ride.
http://dcbikeparty.com Next month will be in the spirit of Halloween
Fall arrives and I have been struck with a cough as dry as the weather. The nights are becoming cooler and my schoolwork is accumulating.
Each part of the city is a cut of a different pie- there’s the starched shirt sector, the upper middle class sector, the dusk sector, the heritage sector- different channels of people that meander around the fanny pack (tourist) sector. Many of them have a way of celebrating their type of pie- the starched shirt sector convenes at classy restaurants with legs crossed and the dusk sector is permeated by a mix of clubs and music.
I lied, these pieces don’t go around each other- many a time they collide- one such event combines heritage, music, and local tourism : Adams Morgan Day.
Art is prevalent at the festival- from prints to clay to upcycled trays
Pop up street art is one great addition to the festival/DC culture- a piece of art unfolds during the time spent enjoying the festival
The street fills with diversity- From Tibet to Ecuador. I’m particularly fond of the balance of architecture in the district: bright colors, diverse cultures, and unique stores punctuate an otherwise mundanely historical area.
Thus the week began.
I went north of my regular city to Baltimore where an anime convention was held this past weekend. For me, this convention is the highlight of my summer- feel free to judge me and how I spend my life, but it is a glorious event. If you’ve heard of comic cons, anime conventions are exactly like that- just with more of a Japanese/anime theme.
So there are panels, concerts, famous people, photoshoots, and lots of people.
Here are just a few of the many photos I took: [the rest are available here]
I had a few frocks of my own to wear. Between photos and friends I slipped in time enough to get to a handful of panels.
I scarred myself in an 18+ panel and buried my face in my hands, but survive I did. I felt the heat of the sun charring through my costume, leaving me mucky and dehydrated. But this is the highlight of my summer.
In terms of items bought- I bought none. It seems the more conventions I go to, the less I am tempted to indulge in the spending of money. This might be the start of a great saving habit.
I feel the magnetized gaze of sleepiness. It’s Sunday night after the convention- sleep must now take its toll.
And no, the horse head is not me. Guess again.
Across the river from the city is a historic town. It doesn’t seem much different in terms of building height, but the feeling is more down to earth. There is little of the tight knit business suits and dining only the wealthy can afford. Prices here can still leap around, but there is something for everyone.
After about a year of consideration, a friend from university came down during summer vacation for an event and gave the one day she had off to me.
Alexandria, the town across the river, is centered along a main road with shops from which it expands outward to business buildings and the suburbs. King Street is the main road- an assertive name for an area with a distinct atmosphere.
Under the main stairwell of the torpedo factory is a small display of people.
For those who visit the city across the river from Alexandria- I beckon them to take a short trip across the river to enjoy a different side of the metropolitan area. History, art, dining, and a pleasant walk await.
I visited a friend’s house in the suburbs two days ago. Her father and his girlfriend made some mock pizza for us. It was a classy experience, though eating with the parents of anyone is always daunting. They reminded me of the philanthropists for art exhibitions in DC- refined but quirky in a subliminal way.
Her shifty eyed cat is very amicable, though at times on edge. We put her in a box for our amusement.