Inc! Issue #12
Afro-Surrealism, Best Shave of my Life, Marketer Interview & more Korean Entertainment
Hello readers! September is such a lovely month. I hope yours has been as good as mine.
Let’s jump right into Issue #12.
Afro-Surrealism
One of my favorite shows, Atlanta, is often described as Afro-Surrealism. So I did more research. Screenrant published a post on 9 Movies and Shows That Use Afro-Surrealism. I am definitely going to watch Sorry to Bother You. But movies and TV are just a glimpse into this movement.
Back in 1924, André Breton wrote the Surrealist Manifesto - which went on to define what we know as Surrealism today. And I recently discovered the Afrosurreal Manifesto by D. Scot Miller written in 2009.
I love #8 in his manifesto:
Ambiguous as Prince, black as Fanon, literary as Reed, dandy as André Leon Tally, the Afro-Surrealist seeks definition in the absurdity of a "post-racial" world.
D. Scott Miller also includes this poem on his site, which was a nice reminder that not all surrealism is visual. In fact, surrealist writing paints its own work of art, quite effectively.
Afro Surreal Generation (Poem The First)
Today, The energy went to building Tupac and Biggie Smalls Pez dispensers, Sun Ra and Henry Dumas facing each other on a palette of twilight, Derby hats, burkas and masks. And remember its thronged seduction. The pressing of face and corpuscular beat. The rush to connect to those eyes, that coat, those sandals, tattooed knuckles. Wonder how much done for love How much done for lack of.
I have lots more reading to do, but this was a firm reminder that not all significant movements in history are white. ‘We’ just happen to control the message most of the time, with direct access to global media distribution. It’s no different than how news works today.
A constant reminder is this: look more closely at history and see what role women or non-whites played in shaping it. That’s the full story. And Afro-surrealism is no different. Although the manifesto arrived in 2009, it’s also important to look at the 85 years between Breton and Miller. It wasn’t all white men.
Intrigued? Here are some more Afro-Surrealism resources, which hopefully will lead you down a rabbit hole.
Afro-Surrealism: What Black Is and Can Be
From Beyoncé to Sorry to Bother You: the new age of Afro-surrealism
Sorry to Bother You and the New Black Surrealism
How Donald Glover’s surrealism makes ‘Atlanta’ a work of art
Interview with a Marketer
I am pleased for all of you to meet Sharmin Kent. Sharmin is the Manager, Content Strategy Lead at Studio Science, an Indianapolis based agency. She and I have known of one another for years and I’ve had the pleasure of working with her as a client. But we’ve never actually sat down and just talked. Until now…
You ready to talk diversity, tech, B2B and our favorite shows? Good.
Sneaker Feature
The first pair of Jordan’s I ever purchased were the Air Jordan 2 Retro Infrared Cement’s. I still have them and I have since added to my collection. As I’ve gotten older, I have found myself drawn to things I loved as a kid …sneakers, baseball hats, video games, hip hop and some sports. Probably worth a conversation with my therapist.
But these Jordan’s were my first and will always hold a special place in my sneaker heart. What were your first meaningful pair of sneakers?
Behind the Lens (going back to 2014)
This piece is a complete rip off from Gear Patrol’s essay titled, The Best Shave I Ever Had. I’m a big fan of their site and as I read this essay (8 years ago), it got me thinking about the wet shaves I’ve had in Palermo, Capri, Kusadasi, Indianapolis, Goa, and Mumbai. So this is my experience sitting in the chair, with a tip of the hat to Gear Patrol.
When traveling I tend to shave less (unless it is work related). Abroad, I like to let the stubble settle in, and then I head to an old school barber shop. It’s always a man, with a no no nonsense approach and enough years at the chair to deal with any face shape or size.
The wet shaves I had in Capri and Indianapolis were terrible. There were patches of hair still left. I basically went home and shaved again.
But the one I had in Mumbai was unforgettable and superb.
It started with several rounds of lathering. Then a double wet shave. This man had an eye for detail and I knew I’d be leaving with an old man baby face. After the double shave, I was lathered again with a variety of creams, ointments and concoctions. I got the feeling that some of these were homemade, some of them very old, and some of them now possibly banned in other countries. But sitting in that chair, what are you doing to do? I anticipated a burn and looked for an allergic reaction or rash, but all was clear.
After this hydration approach, I was given a face massage by hand. Which felt great. Then my barber strapped what looked like a palm sander to the back of his hand, plugged it in and then he palmed my face. This palm sander, muscle car carburetor or whatever it was, caused an incredibly intense, probing vibration to my cranium, sinuses, nasal passage and eye sockets. At one point, I thought my nose would break. But, as mentioned in the previous paragraph, you’re in the chair. This massage was more akin to torture than therapy. I was so pleased when it ended.
But the massages continued.
This time to the my head. Fortunately this did not involve any gadgets. Instead, it consisted of him feverishly scratching my scalp with his finger nails. It was like watching a cat with fleas. And my head burned. My barber was also not too impressed with my bouffon, barnet or hair style. The massage also included a makeover. And he immediately dispensed some new products into my hair, wielding a comb, something my head only sees at a salon back home. He worked his magic and made me look like an Ivy League prep boy. Which was fine.
Was I done? No. One last act to this marvelous play. Clean shaven, sculpted hair? There was only one thing missing. A splash of Old Spice.
The smells from childhood overwhelmed me, but the sting of Old Spice brought me back to reality. I paid and tipped my barber (something like $5 total) and headed back into the frenetic streets of Mumbai. With the best shave of my life. See for yourself.
Consumption
Links
Revolution, The History of Turntable Design
K-everything: the rise and rise of Korean culture
Dolly Parton’s New ‘Doggy Parton’ Collection Features Pet Clothes, Accessories, and More
Vacation Classic Whip Sunscreen
What a Mass Shooting Does to a Town After the Cameras Leave
AI-powered humanoid robot named CEO of Chinese company in world first
Ted Lasso and AFC Richmond Are Coming to 'FIFA 23'
TV
Sweet Home. This South Korean horror meets zombie meets human drama is both scary and filled with hope. I am hooked and thank goodness they just renewed for another 2 seasons.
Hellhound. This South Korean show is a little hard to explain, so here is some copy and paste from Wikipedia: “An original Netflix release set in the near future, supernatural beings suddenly appear out of nowhere to condemn people to Hell.” Good luck going to sleep!
Taxi Cab. Another South Korean show. A cab company is a front for an organization that helps exact revenge on evil. I hope this show never ends.
Uncoupled. Think of this as a gay Sex in the City. Starts off a little shaky but ends strong.
Love is Blind: Life After the Altar. Judge away.
Movies
14 Peaks. Nepali mountaineer Nimsdai Purja decides to climb 14 of the 8,000-meter mountain peaks in 7 months.
Icarus. I am late to the party on this one, but my goodness. What a film.
Top Gun (the new one). Holy shit y’all. I watched this on a flight and it got me so fired up, I wanted to fly the Boeing 737. Bad ass action movie.
Much love to all of you. And hang in there. Daniel