Jameson OTT

Louboutin

Yes, and I can sit down on a white piece of paper and work because I don't believe too much into inspiration, only I'm waiting for inspiration, work and then inspiration may come. It's a little too easy to say that.

- Karl Lagerfeld

Something i've been working on

The illusionist

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

Drumroll Please...

He's a magician I presume. An illusionist. Now you see it, now you don't.
The rabbit never left the hat, but we all saw it hop away!
Curious, no?
I've always hated magic. Mystery is my better half.
So why his trick?
It's a mirrors thing. They'll shatter if you sneeze.
Or at least that's the illusion. Subtle. You wouldn't even know.
Brilliant man. An artist.
You'll understand tomorrow. I'm sure it's nothing.
A genius i'd say. Truly something.
Cruel, you ask? Oh no. Now you see it, now you don't. Ask me about the puppeteer.
The smoke is thick. Blink harder this time.
When it clears. And when they stop. He's gone.
Curious, no? Now you see it?
Top hats and candy canes. A ribbon if you're lucky. The sequins are distracting.
Subtle. You wouldn't even know. Genius.
Drumroll Please.

Now you see it...

Details in the fabric...

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

When things fall apart...

When things fall apart, remember where it is you stand. Don't be foolish in your endeavours, and save yourself the strain. You walk alone forever, and it's best to remember, that when things fall apart, your head is higher than your heart.

When things fall apart, remember that it's your fault. You let the walls surround you and you caused yourself the strain. You held your breath for falsehoods, and it's best to remember, that when things fall apart, the walls will remain.

When things fall apart, and believe me they will, remember where it is you stand.

See by Chloe/ Vintage clutch

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

L is for...

Its a funny thing, love. A treacherous battleground of endless heartache and defeat. So why do we keep going back? Why do we throw ourselves headfirst into the rancid, stagnant pool of pain and dejection, of loss and rejection? Masicist.
Sucker for punishment. Self proclaimed, sucker for punishment. No matter how many times it happens, something in me still yearns to give. Its a wonder there is actually anything left to give. How long until my pool of hope runs dry? Till the bitter drought of defeat rolls in? I know how hard it is for me to say love, but to feel it comes so natural, not to say that, that is easy too. How is it possible that i can want so strongly for the gratification of another soul needing mine, while i havent even mended the fragmented shards of whats left of it?
Wanna know what makes it worse? The media. Before you say anything i know, i know. I probably sound like my grandmother when i say that, but lets be honest. How many times a day are we fed delusions of love and happiness through film, poster, book and tv show? How many times do we have to fall from the euphoric high point we were set on by the depiction of love we are fed, that is no where near reality. Edward Cullen? Honestly. Capulets and Monatgues? Not really. How many times do i have to fall before it actually sinks in that it is never going to happen like that. That no man will ever go to the ends of the earth for me, or slay dragons and battle an army of a thousand ships? Who does that? Wanna kow? Can you handle the answer? Lemme tell you then. No one. Thats right. You heard me. No one.
I am fully aware of the fact, but i still cant convince my heart to sit still. how many times do i have to do this? How many times do i have to wallow in the agony of self mutilation, because lets be honest, thats all this is. Mutilation.
They dont deserve me, and yet i lower my standards and requirements, so that they might come close. To make it easier to be loved. Is that not the most vile thing you have ever heard? To degrade oneself so that suitors may have an easier time of seductiopn? Sadistic.
I'm a sucker for punishment. Dont rub it in.

All the other kids and their pumped up kicks

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

These streets

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

Mon cher fils...

Je pense à toi tous les jours, tellement ça fait mal. Je ne pouvais pas à nu pour vous laisser dans le noir plus longtemps, vous devez connaître la vérité sur votre passé solitaire.

Ton père et moi avons rencontré lorsque j'étais très jeune. Il était beau et charmant et tout ce qu'une jeune fille puisse rêver. Il m'a fait sentir spécial quand il m'a parlé, et j'ai été impressionné par son intelligence. Il était tellement plus vieux que moi, j'aurais dû savoir qu'il ne durerait pas. Nous nous sommes enfuis ensemble, et peu de temps après il a changé. Il n'était plus l'homme qui m'avait courtisé quand nous étions jeunes. Il est devenu lointain et passait ses journées dans cette étude sombre de son, en s'entourant de livres. J'ai essayé de partir, mais j'ai réalisé que j'étais enceinte, et pensé qu'il valait mieux rester, pour l'amour de vous. Il m'a pris au piège, vous devez comprendre. J'étais jeune et envie d'être libre.

Le jour vint où je ne pouvais plus supporter d'être dans une telle maison isolée. J'ai fait nos valises, et s'apprêtait à partir, mais il m'a pris au piège, me forçant à vous laissez derrière vous. Cet homme charmant n'existait plus, et je n'avais pas d'autre choix que d'aller, sans vous.

Je me rends compte maintenant de la solitude de votre vie doit avoir été, et pour cela je suis profondément désolé. Pardonnez-moi mon enfant. S'il vous plaît sais que je n'ai jamais oublié de vous, et de continuer à long pour vous tous les jours. Restez bien, ta mère.

 -Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

Vintage YSL

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

The Statement Blazer

It's not as if the room was quiet...

It’s not as if the room was quiet, but the air that swept around his face seemed to lap in whispers of vanilla bean and All Spice around his chin, igniting my nostrils in a familiar game of ‘I spy with my little eye, memories beginning with’… Nostalgia rang sweet with the thought of my father holed up in his study pouring over paper, as the musky scent of my mystery man drifted lightly up the rows of wooden pews. I couldn’t help but inhale deeply, blissfully unaware of the smile that swept coyly across my face. My attention wavered from the bodies on either side of me; they were losing and I was falling.

It’s not as if the room was quiet, but the brass in his voice echoed wistfully through the din like the miniature symbol of the dancing-monkey-wind-up toy of my childhood. It hit the back of my throat sharply like a peppermint lozenge but was quickly asuaged by the velvet giggle of the blonde haired girl in white to his left. He sounded nothing like my father, but then again, it’s not as if the room was quiet.

He was still for what seemed like too long and my ears filled up once more with the incessant natter of 8 o clock Monday morning. When he finally spoke again, the pitch of his voice had increased severely in what could have been an impression of the chesty redhead in the row in front of him but was most likely just a sneeze. As his head flew back in a gust of auburn mist and teeth, I resigned myself to the former; I didn’t like his laugh.

Willing him to turn around and notice me listening, I caught myself leaning gently over the desk. He turned sharply at the calling of his name from somewhere in the lofty heights of NSLT; David I think it was. The lust in my eyes was greeted abruptly by the poster child for abstinence; I grunted, shocked, but I don’t think he heard me…it’s not as if the room was quiet. 

- Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

Spha Mdlalose

Freedom is chartruse

Local Jazz Idol winner Spha Mdlalose. She's preformed with the likes of Josh Groban and Ladysmith Black Mambazo. Catch her this year at the Cape Town jazz festival. I have the pleasure of being a good friend. Her graduation recital shoot was styled and shot by yours truly, this is just a sneak peak at the raw beauty that carries through her music. Make sure to give her a listen if you see the name around.

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

The Cupboard

Taken by Kenny Jules Morifi-Winslow

50/50

So I had the pleasure of seeing another Seth Rogan film called 50/50. Not that he’s the director or anything but he’s the only real point of reference in the film that one can make to other films. 50/50 is about a young 27 year old male who finds out he has cancer and his journey to recovery as most films about illness are, though admitidly this particular one isn’t as heavy in terms of the weight of emotions it imposes on its audience as one would expect. Let me explain why.

We have a supporting actor like Seth Rogan who plays Kyle. A mid 20s goofy, supportive, idiotic and slightly dillusional friend to Adam who is diagnosed with spinal cancer. Along the way they bump into and encounter a lot of different people one of which is a woman he goes to see for his psychology sessions. She however is only in training and learning how to become a psychologist. Along the way they start to get to know eachother and teach the other about love and life. As with any film that has boy and a girl the two of them fall in love. This is apparent from the moment we see them on screen together. The films themes are quite broad and open to interpretation as with any art or film but one to take note of is that of love and family. At some point in the film Adam and Kyle go out looking for women to sleep with after Kyle finds Rachel cheating on Adam with some stranger. At which point Kyle makes it his mission to get Adam laid. Awkwardly though he uses the fact that he has cancer to get girls which seems to work for the unsuspecting victims while he keeps on seeing his shrink we see a potential love interest start to unfold as the film goes on. We also have the element of family and friends. Adams mother worries about the slightest of things including the type of tea he should be drinking while his father with alzhiemers struggles to recognise his face. Rogan (Kyle) offers a wonderful comic relief to the film as it tends to get heavy from time to time. Though I would’ve liked to see abit more intensity from Adam  there seems to be an underlying anger bubbling under the surface that never actually comes out except for one particular moment when he takes it upon himself to learn how to drive.

However with such honest performances on screen one would expect an honest ending. One slightly different to the typical Hollywood ending where the boy recovers in the end and falls in love with the girl in the film. Some may say that stories like this are there to inspire hope in those going through the same thing but if this is art surely it is the artists duty to stay true and honest. Granted all these things are true but it seems a bit too tame for a drama in the end. For the most part it was beautifully honest and sincere however the ending was stero typical and pretty with a bow tie at the end. 

-Wenzi Mgeyane

Ladies and Gentlemen...

Back in action. Things are going be a little different, let me know if you aren't following. I've changed, i've grown and i've found a vision I never had before. I want to engage, let you in to my world. I want you to see what I see, hear what I hear and adventure right beside me. I realised it's not enough to dictate, not enough just to preach, I want to relate, I want to practice what I preach, show you that electricity is a lifestyle, not a religion.
Let's live