"Stand against the bland. Think differently." Trevor Stuurman
The rainy daze of muggy evenings.
The pain and sorrow of artist block.
The once-inspiring light of tomorrow, now shining less and less.
Do more than simply "rage against the dying of the light".
Create your own.
Add more fuel to the fire.
More wick to the candle.
Harness the hope of the aurora borealis.
Fracture the rainbows on high.
Construct barcodes of chrome.
Forge your own kaleidoscope of dreams.
Stand against the backdrop of your art.
Shine the light towards your future.
Look to the sky.
Dream of a better one.
Art, life, love and joy lives again.
Words by Rich Etienne
He used to ride the train. Day in, day out, he descended into the caverns of the city, and waited far too long for a journey far too cluttered. The same route, the same crazies, the same stench, the same delays-- the tunnel went on for what seemed like forever. When the commute finally took him above ground, he ascended to a city of contradictions. The Sun, bright and life-giving, yet hidden behind a curtain of dense gray; buildings erected from artistic dreams and desires, yet coated in black; streets and roads of endless possibilities, yet paved with congestion.
There was a place that called his name. Tobago. It wanted him. It softly whispered into the wind, soothing his ears, hoping he'd one day answer. Desperate for a breath of fresh purpose, he left for that place-- a place of better surroundings. When his foot touched the warm, earthen grounds of the island, his eyes opened for the first time in years. The boldness of the houses, each standing proud with a roof of orange and walls of blue. Following the lead of the Sun, the people draped themselves with life-- dispersing their energy to him, and shedding the woes and wearies of the city. Clearly blue and as God intended it, the water caressed his body, soothing the aches and burns of employers, corporate dress codes, and quarterly budget reports.
Tobago wanted him, because it knew he needed it. But, he couldn't stay forever, though tempting it seemed. He had to return to the city. But, if he was going to go back-- back to the same route, the same crazies, the same stench, and the same delays-- he was going to go back with the spice of life.
The blue of the houses, clear waters and the glorious skies of Tobago inspired the design of the NB1 998 sneaker. With every step he takes on the dark, congested streets, a splash of energy infuses those he passes by. Inspired and invigorated by the POW! In his strut, they go out in search of life. They find another place that calls their names and return to the dense gray skies with the essence of their journey all wrapped up in a singular pop of color. A break from the routine. A breath of freedom.
Create your own journey here
Delicate and refined. Simple and powerful.
He stands with precision and structure. As well-cut as a diamond, he steps out onto the Diamond of the field, ready to take his place in the finely tuned machine of the game. The progression from flat foundation to triumphant tower was one of time, effort and acute attention to the finest of details. Layered with Hearts, Spades, and finesse, he's risen to the skies desired by many, yet scraped by few. He strips it all away. Pulling out a Spade and watching the collapse of beauty. Reds and blacks, Clubs and Hearts-- the awe-inspiring structure of sheer skill and patience comes fluttering down. Scattered across the field. And then he starts again. He rebuilds. Rising once more with the same care and precision he had before. As much as he loves to look at his completed work, he loves the journey all the more.He's a product of his environment. A product of New York.
Product of New York | '86 Trophy Pack | 4.11.15
Words by Rich Etienne
Location | Studio959
Sponsored by Product Of New York
Ever since he was a child, he had a hard time fitting in. He was the reclusive introvert who spent more time mulling over the printed words scattered across the pages in the books he kept close at hand than conversing with someone he could possibly befriend. In his eyes, people were simply characters in life's novel. The individuals he observed during his daily commute were much like the men and women he cradled in his palm. With stolen glances and prolonged stares that seemingly went unnoticed, he learned to read to between the lines to develop "John," "Alissa", "Robert", and others who were now apart of his own narrative.
There was something amiss about this man that makes him all the more a subject of intrigue. He was poetically terrified of his own shadow; too frightened to examine the man he had become and not brave enough to think of what he could achieve with his talents. His routines were robotic. His wardrobe was littered with striped garments reminiscent of the bar codes branded on the back covers of the stacked books that stood beside him as read on. The barriers of his apartment sheltered the silence that he so adored. It was this calming quietude that relaxed his bones as his mind teleported him to the infinite landscapes of elsewhere.
When he had his fill of pages for the evening, it was then that sound would be reintroduced to his aphonic abode. As he made his way to the bathroom, the wooden floorboards would speak in fluent creaks. His breathing manifested itself in audibly loud yawns indicative of his fatigued state. After voiding himself of the fluids he withheld during his journeys in literature, he does something most people would deem rather peculiar. He peers at his reflection in the mirror and begins to mimic the facial expressions of the characters that he had previously observed throughout the course of his commute. It was only in this manner that he would allow the features of his face to feel emotion. His preoccupation in studying the somatic language and mannerisms of strangers reveal his desire to experience the things that cause humans to feel. This is the case of an intelligent, beautiful man, paralyzed by the fear that comes with uncertainty.
Words by Joekenneth
Casting Gerard Pierre
Photo Assistant Brandon Pitcher
Sponsored by Paige Denim