Photographer

Adrift

James (Adrift)

Mortal Man

Adrift

By: James Dickerson

Optimism is new to me. I stopped having expectations some time ago and have learned to let life be.
— James Dickerson

This year I found myself breaking up with and wanting to get over what I thought was the  traveling path of my life. I left behind someone I should’ve held tighter to. Had an emotional fling that I’m still sore about - my first time engaged in intense desire; so intense that I broke my own rules involving women with significant others. And financially, as a single father, I found myself struggling to live on the pedestal I placed the responsibility to my sons on. Sleepless nights wrote my story after so much happened in so little time. 

I would think: what is the point of a sunrise if all you see is darkness? Every day felt the same. I became distant at work. The idea of friendship is a struggle and my kids wonder if I’m okay. What it meant to be a photographer in a non-traditional way was lost because of inconsistency. Prior to full time employment I was able to split my time on the street as an urban documentarian with my time as a clerk at a library, making enough noise in both respects to keep everyone happy. Almost everyone. The dissolving of my relationship with the mother of my children forced me into a full time spot at work. And then things started to die.

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Part of the problem was giving too much of myself to sustaining troubled waters. I needed still waters. I sought still waters, but aimlessly. Living for the satisfaction of others is not mentally healthy when you avoid your own health in the process. The darker life became the more I contemplated the wrong things. I told myself that the “end” would be a loss for everyone. I thought about my kids and what that would mean for them to lose their father, and a thread tightens and yanks me back a few feet from the edge. Their sadness I’d never want to face even in death. 

My relationship with them is strong so I have to survive for them. I have to survive for them. Fatherhood is keeping me alive. 

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I’m not the type to enter into the year with resolutions but I think about them. With their succession, how does the future feel a year older? If I hit every one would I die a better man? From one year to the next they ranged from weight loss, financial responsibly, a healthier relationship, and a home to raise my boys in. All the things I wished for when I was with their mother are still the things I wish for after. 

There’s something to be said about existing on the same page. Our story could be told together, written without ending, but our conflicts with each other prevented any real growth after 12 years. I don’t regret the loss of time but I regret the lack of growth.

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I doubt that I’ve truly healed from the strains of this break up. My nuclear family had a meltdown. We both assumed blame but still lacked growth. I tried dating after her and while that had its strengths, I was definitely its weakness. I left her feeling as lost as I was. That made me a bad guy. 

The bigger question is if I feel what is in my soul is for me. I don’t want the crash and burns to define my life. Nor the hang ups of emotional flings. “I want more life.” She shared that with me when I was having a rough moment. A phrase from a play that slips my mind. I debate whether our relationship was karmic in nature; that we taught each other something in the process. I did learn that I don’t want to be alone. But the bigger part I learned was that I never want to be who another man feels will destroy his happiness. But am I allowed to make that mistake in the process of growth?

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I don’t know how to end the year within this essay because my life is still changing. I may have written the most cryptic piece for the Mortal Man series. At the same time someone may pick this out as a resonating segment among others. Optimism is new to me. I stopped having expectations some time ago and have learned to let life be. However, as my life wraps up, I have a small amount of hope that’s always existed. It’s pushed me forward when permanent sleep was all I dwelled on. 

Let me experience internal peace, God. Just once, even if we aren’t friends.

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James Dickerson

Adrift

Son | Father | Brother | Photographer | Author | Real Life Documentarian

I met James on instagram. I admired his photography and reached out to him when I knew I’d re rolling through his hometown of Toledo, Ohio. Though it was our first time meeting our conversation was deep, intense, personal… REAL.

You can keep up with James on instagram at:

@dirtykics

James’ street photography is also featured on Wassuprockers’ “The Room” and can be viewed online here.

The Game of Life

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Mortal Man

The Game of Life

By: Cleavon (Proph3ssorX) Matthews Jr.

Mortal: 1.) That must die at sometime 2.) Of man as a being who must die 3.) Causing death of the body and or soul 4.) Lasting until death  5.) Very great; Extreme

Man: Noun- 1) An adult, male human being 2) Any human being; Person 3) The human race 4) Human Servant 5) A husband 6) Any piece used in a game. Verb- 1) to supply with people for work, defense ect. 2) To take one’s place at on, or in 3) To make oneself stronger or braver  Suffix- 1) A person of a certain country 2) A person doing a certain work 3) A person who uses or works some device.

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When we are young we wish to be old. When we become old we seek our youth; however, it is when we mature that we learn to appreciate each moment that makes up this thing called life. Any and every human being will encounter struggles, even without them the scales of life are not the easiest to balance. Yet, there is only one fact that remains no matter who you are or what you do; there must come a time where all living things must die. So what will you do with the time you have here? Do you get consumed in your ego and drown? Have you allowed defeat to get the last laugh? Or did you overcome that in which seemed impossible?  Did you hide in shame of guilt or did you share your story so that one day when met with the same challenges as you someone else can know that they too can make it? Or did you just share in order to boast?

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With that being said.

What are you willing to die for?

Better yet, What are you living for?

The games life plays can you deal with it?

The constant repenting and sinning cause we all fall short

It's not the trip but how you recovered the slip

When times get rough did you just dip?

What work did you supply?

Whom did you serve?

What legacy did you leave?

What marks did you achieve?

If none then I respect you still

It can’t be an office without the real people in the field

So I salute you

Your value isn’t placed in a bank account and possessions

But the opportunities to learn lessons

Protect yourself at all times realize

Sometimes the tricks are only in your mind

Don’t forget to be kind
No matter what country you are in don’t miss the chance to meet a friend

share a bit of time to admire each others works

Growing stronger and braver together in order to take our rightful place.

Understanding we are apart of one race.

Clipping dying buds blooming bountiful blossoms of bliss

We are more than just husbands, sons, brothers, uncles, cousins, friends, we can not be bound to our professions and the ideals impressed upon us by society

We carry the seed of life

Molded by Mistakes

Made through Mishaps

Manifested outta Misery

Mounted on the shoulders of those who has come before us

Mortal men we are

Monuments to love

UnMeasured and Magnified

Mortal Men are We

 
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The Game of Life

Cleavon (Proph3ssorX) Matthews Jr.

Human | Artist | Writer | Teacher | Culture Critique

Cleavon is my friend that collaborated with me at my (The Way I See It) photography exhibit. Our conversations on life helped plant the seed for me to start the Mortal Man project.

You can keep up with him on social media at:

Instagram: @proph3ssorx

Twitter: @prophessorx

A Eulogy: One Last Conversation with My Big Bruh

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Mortal Man

A Eulogy: One Last Conversation with My Big Bruh

By: Karlos L. Marshall

At some point in our lives, most people are faced with an unexpected and possibly even a tragic death of a loved one. The process of healing looks different for all, but sharing one’s testimony publicly with others is largely a sign of recovery. A few years ago, the unforeseen death of my brother shook me to my core and I have largely been private about that experience and its impact since. It was his death that made me discern the truth and reality of mortality, legacy, and life’s purpose. This project is part of the ongoing healing process for me, as I have decided to share intimate details of our brotherhood with the world — that only our family members and closest friends have known.
— Karlos L. Marshall
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I would like to just take this time to thank everyone for coming out and just to have one more conversation with my Big Bruh. Big Bruh, I would be remiss if I didn’t speak on your legacy, beliefs, and our experiences together amongst loved ones — on your celebration day. I’m just praying that my words could provide some level of justice to the life, in which you lived. Big Bruh, there are no words in the human diction that are capable of sorrow and suffrage of your loss.

When some individuals pass its unexpected. But you see — this here was unforeseen. It was unforeseen that we would not be afforded another opportunity of conversation — to cast a vision upon the present and future generations of all the children that bear our last name. It was unforeseen that I wouldn’t get another opportunity to call you on your way to work, as we oftentimes spoke about the plight of the Black community and creative avenues of change and upward-mobility for our people.

Big Bruh, it was unforeseen I wouldn’t be able to give you one more hug, one more backsided hand-slap that you thought was so cool. Big Bruh, it was unforeseen that we wouldn’t get to watch one more athletic event together. Or play one more game of one-on-one or horse even though I would mostly win.

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But even when we played a few years ago, you played off of me because you said I couldn’t even shoot when we were growing up as kids. Big Bruh, it was unforeseen we would no longer get to reminisce on our own childhood — by watching our sons interact with one another; as you undoubtedly said it best: “they’re cousins, but more like brothers.”

It was unforeseen that the first day the world welcomed me — would be the same day I speak to you for the very last time 26 years later. “Happy Birthday Little Brother,” you texted me. I replied, “Appreciate it. Hope all is well with you and the kids.” You said “most def. Same to you.” Big Bruh, it was unforeseen that after many childhood years of endless nightly conversations — that those would be the last humble words we would ever speak to one another.

Big Bruh, it was unforeseen that we would never be able to relive and recreate the good ol’ days. We would no longer get to laugh at our oldest brother for throwing the baseball over the backstop from the outfield. It was unforeseen I would no longer get to crack jokes on you for always having ashy knees when we were growing up. Big Bruh, it was unforeseen that I would be standing here right now — telling you I would miss your jokes about how light-skinned dudes was out-of-style.

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Big Bruh, do you recall telling me: how proud you were of me—after I got my master’s and bought my first house. A house that you went to take me to go see. You said, “you way ahead of the game Lil Bruh.” But you already knew, you were always the person I looked up to, as one person recently reminded me: “remember, I knew you when you were his Little Brother.”

Some called you “Truth.” I just called you Big Bruh. Big Bruh, growing up being able to say I was your Little Brother gave me a credential—that not even my own young hype could buy. Big Bruh, do you recall telling me that your daughter asked you: “is Uncle Karlos like my Daddy too?” You said, “no baby, but he’s like your Daddy when I’m not around.”

But that is one thing that I do know — is that you loved those kids. I’ve always attempted to try to emulate you and fill your shoes; something I still cannot do at this very moment, as I currently wear a pair of shoes that you once provided me.

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But it would be unforeseen the seismic void you would leave. Big Bruh, if there’s one thing I knew, it’s that you loved those kids. Big Bruh: a Man of God, a Father, a Son, a Brother, an Uncle, a Nephew, a Grandson, a Cousin, a Best Friend, a Colleague, and a Man of the Community you were —— with a vision to take our people to see the world and see the world they will. Big Bruh, it was unforeseen that you would never get the opportunity to be my Best Man. For that — I will never have the privilege of having one; because my Best Man — that you still are.

Big Bruh, we choose to relish the way in which you lived, rather than ponder the ways in which you may have died. Big Bruh, you were one of the very best men I will ever meet. And it was a pleasure and honor to walk in your footsteps for as long as I have.

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A fighter you were. You showed us that to your very last breath. Big Bruh, I know you have a great legacy because I still wear our last name proudly. I was your Little Brother then and I’m your Little Brother now. “Marshall Men: there are none stronger.” Ain’t that what you used to always tell me? Big Bruh, in the words of our favorite urban philosopher, “we gon’ be aight.”

In the true spirit of the African proverb—that it takes a village to raise a child, before you today brotha — is that village. We—will help raise your children. And Mom and Pops, also before you today is the village that helped deliver you second child to his righteoushome — for now — is your time to rest.

Big Bruh, it was and still is — unforseen, unimaginable, and incomprehensible — that my very first time being a pallbearer will be for you on this here very day. Big Bruh, that is the irony — for it is you—that has carried me, lifted me up, and propelled me forward to greatness — when I didn’t even know I possessed greatness in and of myself. That was the responsibility you felt to me your Little Brother. And for that — Big Bruh — I will forever love you!

Karlos L. Marshall

Educator | Civic Innovator | Brother

Founder of The Conscious Connect, INC.

Born and raised in the Champion City of Springfield, Ohio, Karlos L. Marshall has been recognized as an international thought leader at the intersections of urban education, civic innovation, and neighborhood revitalization. He has been named an honoree of the Forbes '30 Under 30' Class of 2019 and the International Literacy Association's '30 Under 30' Class of 2019. Through his nontraditional approaches, Mr. Marshall seeks to speak a world-class 21st Century cultural renaissance.

Higher Calling

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Mortal Man

Higher Calling

By: Ricardo Navas

I don’t go through life worrying about getting sick or something happening to me because I know that my life is in God’s hands.

When I first learned that my father had cancer I wasn’t really that worried. I felt like he was going to be fine. I felt like he was going to be beat cancer and that he was going to be alright. Even after he had surgery – I felt like he was going to recover and be ok. It was really hard for me to know exactly how he was feeling because when I was around him he would act as though he was doing fine but in reality he was in a lot of pain. I realize now that my dad was doing this to keep me, our family and everyone else from being sad. He didn’t want us to feel sorry for him or to get depressed. I think as a father, as a leader, as the man of the house he felt like that’s what he had to do. Even in his last moments my dad was hopeful and did not want us to be sad.

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When my father passed away it really hit me that I was closer to him than I was to my mother. With my dad it was like we were friends, he was my father but we were really close. We talked a lot and we were open about everything. So his death hit me really hard. It made me realize that this could happen to me so I need to be prepared. I have to take care of my family, make sure I have life insurance and my affairs in order.  I also thought about what my family’s life would be like if I was no longer here. So you become more vulnerable when you realize that this can happen to you too. At the same time I know that God is in control. When he says that it is my time it is “my time.”  So I don’t go through life worrying about getting sick or something happening to me because I know that my life is in God’s hands.

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A few years ago I was involved in a fatal car accident. I was hurt really bad and I nearly died but it wasn’t my time.  God said “it wasn’t my time yet.” I believe that I’m here because I still have work that God wants me to do. God isn’t finished with me. My purpose is here right now. We have to learn to take each and every day as a gift and not worry so much about “what could happen” because fear robs you of your happiness.

Art has always been important to me, creating art is important to me.  I used to be a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu fighter. That helped me realize that martial arts are just a physical way of expressing yourself and creating art. As a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu fighter I was using my body to create art. The injuries I suffered in the car accident prevent me from competing and I missed that feeling. I missed creating art.

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When I do something I do it with passion. I take my time learning the art. I don’t just do it because I “like it.” When I do something I put my heart into it. I felt like I had all these years doing Jiu Jitsu and now I can’t compete anymore, I can no longer use my body to create art. I didn’t know how to paint or how to draw, so I thought “maybe I‘ll be good at taking pictures.”  That’s when I got into photography. That’s when I realized that photography was going to be a new way for me to create art and express myself. Now when people ask me what I do for a living I tell them that I am a photographer. Even though I am an entrepreneur that’s running a successful business I identify myself more as a photographer. My business is a way for me to provide for my family but in my heart photography is my passion.

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Losing my father and being in that car accident has made me “tougher.” One of the last times I cried was when my dad died. Experiencing my father’s fight with cancer and nearly losing my own life just made me realize that those things can and will happen. Now when I see or experience something emotional it’s almost like I’m immune to it.

Another thing I want to talk about is how often things in America is taken for granted. I realize that I have opportunities that other people don’t. I grew up in Venezuela. When I was in second grade I used to walk a mile or more to school by myself. I would see so many disturbing things. I would walk pass dead animals, dead people, I got robbed. It was rough but all of those things made me stronger. When I moved to America I felt like people expected less of me because I was foreign. Even as owning my own business isn’t enough. I don’t look like the typical business owner so... that motivates me to be better, motivates me to prove people wrong.

In Venezuela grew up in without a lot of things so I had a chip on my shoulder. People expected little of me, even my own family. Some of them say, “I’m surprised that you have your own business, that you’re able to capture such good pictures – that you’re doing so well in life.” I felt like people thought I wouldn’t accomplish anything in life so that pushed me.

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I believe Venezuela has the second worst “documented” crime rate in the world. When I grew up it wasn’t like that there. It was known for our oil, gold and diamonds. Venezuela also has the most Miss Universe winners. So we were known for having beautiful things and beautiful people. So when I talk to people that have moved here from back home I talk to them and I challenge them to do their best. I remind them that when we move to other countries it to better ourselves, not to be the same type of people that we would have been if we had stayed in Venezuela.

There is so much opportunity here. And I think that’s what makes America so beautiful. Even though there’s racism and a lot of people that hate, you have opportunities. If you put that noise aside you have a chance to be great. I guess you have that chance in any country but especially here. If you study and work hard there’s no reason that you cannot get what you want in life.

 

Ricardo Navas

Higher Calling

Family Man + Venezuelan + Latino

Entrepreneur + Brazilian Jiu Jitsu Fighter

Photographer

instagram: @navasphotos

website: navasphotos.com

“Arte Suave”

Smooth Art

durand jones and the indications

MOtr pub - cincinnati oh

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i was introduced to durand jones and the indications music by my dude mike while digging through vinyl at omega records “my home away from home.” through the years mike has picked up on my taste of music which is quite similar to his so he always hits me with suggestions when i’m looking for something new. the self-titled album is hard to describe other than soulfully dope. perfect for vibing out and getting lost in yourself as well as with that special someone.

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when the opportunity to photograph their show at motr pub in cincinnati came up I jumped on it and i am so glad that i did! the venue gives you that close intimate feel and durand jones and the indications killed it. if they come your way I definitely suggest going to see them and if you haven’t heard their album check it out and let me know what you think!

you can view the full photo gallery here on cincymusic.

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