Aug 102016
 

About a week and a half ago, I was in NYC with my family and we stopped at the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a day of fun. While there, we saw the exhibit, “Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology.” It is about the place where old-school fashion techniques meet technology. It is also about how one technique isn’t better than the other, rather, how both traditional fashion techniques and new techniques in fashion using technology can complement each other. What I found most fascinating about the exhibit was watching the production of the pieces, the hand-beading and stitching, and the intention behind each piece. Great stuff!

Here are some of the most striking pieces I saw:


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If in NYC, I urge you to check this exhibit out. It is quite beautiful.

I find that viewing beautiful things inspires me to not only find the beauty in life, but also to bring this beauty into my writing and other creative projects.

Happy creating!

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Apr 182011
 

The last Crusader challenge has fallen upon us and here it is:

Show Not Tell Crusader Challenge: In 300 words or less, write a passage (it can be an excerpt from your WIP, flash fiction, a poem, or any other writing) that shows (rather than tells) the following:

  • you’re scared and hungry
  • it’s dusk
  • you think someone is following you
  • and just for fun, see if you can involve all five senses AND include these random words: shimmer, saccadic, substance, and salt.

Here is my entry:

Her eyes grew wide, her face hot, her heart pounding. A growl roared from her stomach. Shut up, shut up. She darted forward and stepped ever so carefully on the cracked floor. Reaching an icy brick wall, she placed her cheek next to it letting the cold sink in before licking. She cringed at the saltiness and wiped the disgusting taste from her tongue.

A boom shook the place; the vibrations ran through her body like a subwoofer. Did somebody push over a dumpster? She spun around, her foot caught. She pulled on her ankle. Rubber soles slapped the floor. She yanked it out and ran.

“Who’s there?” she screeched.

The hairs on her forearms stood up as the edge of the doorway made its way under her fingertips. She reached down. A cold, metal knob saluted her. She twisted. The door flew open. Darkness dripped from the hallway. She sprinted down the corridor; her hands shaking, her eyes saccadic. She grabbed her chest and felt around the pockets of her pants. Her inhaler was gone. There was a wheeze, a misstep, a fall. Get up dammit!

A light shimmered in the shadows. She used her last bit of energy to pounce like a panther and push.

It was dusk, but the streetlamps illuminated the downtown sky. A congested sidewalk filled with laughing tourists passed. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she rushed across the street, bumping into people along the way.

“Watch where you’re going moron.”

A smile crawled on her face. She was alive and still in Chicago. She took a deep breath. It smelled like rain on top of hot concrete.

It was the substance crazy dreams were made of.

***

The end for now.  To learn more about the Crusade, please visit: Rach Writes.

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