I don’t care about fashion. I only read The New York Times’ Sunday Styles section for the Modern Love column (I’m more romantic than trendy). Recently, a friend asked me to accompany her to the Brooklyn Museum to see the exhibit, The Fashion World of Jean Paul Gaultier: From the Sidewalk to the Catwalk, before it closed on February 23. My only knowledge of the designer was his cologne, Le Male, which my stepfather would wear religiously. Despite my ambivalence, I joined my friend and awed at 140 Gaultier ensembles, ranging from his earliest to most recent collections. My favorite haute couture outfit: A S&M getup I’d wear while forcing Anna Wintour to pick through the bargain bins at the Gap.
A recent outing during another blistering winter storm, led seven associates and myself to Momofuku Noodle Bar, an intimate Asian-inspired restaurant on 1st avenue. Since it’s opening in 2004, Momofuku has been serving foodies bowls of delicious ramen dishes with chunks of pork belly and Sichuan sausage. Before I ordered, I noticed several patrons slurping on what appeared to be a pork-based dish. Instead of inquiring and trying something new, we ordered the fried chicken dinner and gorged on the two whole fried birds (one southern styled, one Korean style). I should have stepped outside of my comfort zone and tried a pork/shiitake bun, but my gut shouted, “If you can’t identify it, don’t eat it, Jamil!”
The beauty of accumulated snow in New York City fades quickly: Crisp white snow is replaced with slush mingled with canine feces within hours of its plummet. This winter, New York has experienced frequent storms causing me to lament and inquire, “Where are you, spring?” I’ve lived in the northeast for well over a decade, however, I’m still not acclimated to its temperamental seasons. I don’t ask for much, but what I really want, no, need, is for spring to come quickly and bring with it a balmy breeze.
If you’ve ever visited the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, you’ve awed at Urban Light, the large-scale installation designed by artist Chris Burden. Situated at the entrance of LACMA, this solar-powered assemblage caught my attention while I was cruising down Wilshire Boulevard. I begged my friend to pull over so I could capture the above image taken around midnight on a balmy January evening. There is something magical about Urban Light’s street lamps illuminating this stretch of the Miracle Mile. Not only is it breathtaking, it will transport you to the 1920s, the era in which the lamps were created.
My weekend activities bible, New York Magazine, recently published a story on new ice skating rinks in the five boroughs of New York City. One in particular, LeFrak Center at Lakeside, stood out among the others for its cerulean-blue ceiling and close proximity to my house. So one-night, a friend and I ventured to Prospect Park in Brooklyn and joined a horde of teenagers for a performance of “A Black Man on Ice.” As the star performer, I treated the attendees to some amateurish tricks and strained facial expressions. In spite of the lack of applause and adulation, I had a great time and left with a blister as a souvenir.
My father and I both love road trips, so during my weeklong stay in Texas we ventured to Marfa, TX. Situated in the Chihuahuan Desert, Marfa is a town of about 2000 folks, including a growing number of artists. During our visit, and after a gorge fest at Dairy Queen, we toured The Chinati Foundation, a museum with outdoor installations by such artists as Donald Judd. The highlight of the trip was Prada Marfa, an art installation on U.S. Route 90. Don’t’ bring your credit card; a camera will suffice to capture quirky photos just like Beyoncé took during her stopover.
I’ve lived in several different states including Alaska, Florida, Georgia, Colorado and New York. However, I identify Texas and California as home. This holiday, I spent time with my father in Fort Stockton, TX, a small town of 8,000 denizens. After five o’clock, the town shuts down and there isn’t much to do. For example, on Christmas Eve around dusk, instead of heading to the local bar for some Christmas-inspired spirits, I counted kids. Not the foul-mouthed bastards on New York’s subways, but newborn American Boer goats. Most folks would be caroling on this holy night but not us West Texans: it’s all about the kids.
In Texas, Santa arrives on a John Deere Gator holding a red cup full of festive cheer. Merry Christmas.
Do you know the difference between a manager and a leader? Before attending the Duke Leadership Program I had no clue. However, after spending five days on Duke University’s bucolic campus at The Fuqua School of Business, I can now identify their differences and prefer to steer my career towards being a leader.
A manager works by providing rewards for doing what the organization wants. A leader provides guidance and meaning. There are six domains of leadership; Relational Leadership - according to the DLP - is where I thrive. This domain demonstrates fairness and understanding of others.
What I learned in the program is in order to be a well-rounded leader, I need to work on conquering the other five domains of leadership, which include Responsible, Supportive, Contextual, Personal, and Inspirational. Interested in learning more about the six domains: click here.
Winter’s chill couldn’t keep me from trekking to New Windsor, NY to experience the Storm King Art Center. This outdoor museum, situated in the Hudson Valley, showcases works from artists such as Alexander Calder, Roy Lichtenstein and Nam June Paik. The museum sits on 500 acres of rolling hills and has unobstructed views of Moodna Creek. Unfortunately, Storm King Art Center is closed until the spring, but make sure to add it your must-do list and awe at installations like Menashe Kadishman’s massive Suspended, pictured above.