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Nike Workwear

Today, a video from one of my favorite internet filmmakers, Van Neistat, led me to this wonderful brand, William Ellery Technical Apparel.

A maker out of New York City producing “outdoor and workwear apparel from vintage wears, envisioning each garment’s unique story.” With “boyhood sentimentality” shaping the clothing and the company.

I, of course, fell in love with it all straight away.

And the wonderful images and pieces sparked an idea in me. A collection of Nike workwear.

I love it when a juxtaposition strikes me. A juxtaposition that seems to fit itself so nicely into an illustration. And I love it when an idea comes from a specific trail of things like today.

The work of William Ellery’s founder, Trevor Davis, reminds me in ways of the work of Tom Sachs.

Tactile, custom, and hand-made. It makes me want to sew something. To make the things I use and wear even more my-own, outfitted to do and look exactly the way I would like.

Maybe I’ll get a sewing kit.

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The Distraction Quandary

Tom Sachs, a New York-based sculptor, gave a interesting TED talk on creativity and standards. In it, he said:

“Authenticity also demands endurance. Do it for a long time – whatever it is. Two years, it’s just an interest. Do something for five years, and it’s a hobby. Do something for 20 years, and you begin to build a sense of mastery and the holes in your position on the thing become too small to be of any consequence.”

The problem is that I’m constantly distracted. Distracted from my book while I’m reading. Distracted by that idea I need to jot down, or text that I’ll forget to send. Distracted from hobby to hobby, focus to focus. From season to season to season.

How do I attain mastery over any single thing when my lens of attention is constantly shifting?

Leonardo Da Vinci, famous for his mastery over so many varied things supposedly uttered these final words before his death:

“I have offended God and mankind because my work didn’t reach the quality it should have.”

Of course, that is ridiculous. Leonardo was one of mankind’s greatest artists and thinkers – yet he too felt this sense of impending failure. Honestly, I don’t know how to reconcile that contrast. That a man we revere for what he created and gave to the world, himself felt unfulfilled.

For now, as I ponder the quandary of Leonardo Da Vinci’s happiness, I suppose the only thing to do is continue in curiosity. To look every more intently for the beauty the world has to offer, so that I may add to it in whatever small bits I can. And, of course, to take David Sedaris’ advice from his book, Calypso:

“The key of course, is to stay busy.”