Posts Tagged ‘natural hair’

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On the first day we met, I knew I wanted her to be more than just the MUA to me. I wanted her to be my friend, such a sweet spirited woman. (more…)

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So here’s the story; I raided some models’ shoot.  .. oops.

On Sunday, after church, I got an aunt to style my hair the traditional way since I’ll have a busy week and less time for my hair. Threading, that’s what it’s called.

I paid a visit to Sela, who’s a friend and a photographer (I’d postponed our meet up long enough). Apparently, they were wrapping up a shoot, waiting for the last model to show up. The makeup artist, Kirky, asked if I’d wanted some makeup… why not??! So I told her just how I wanted it, and she slayed!

I am a Ga woman. My tribe is known for their fierceness, aggressiveness, high-spirit and ‘Ganess’ (that’s if there’s any word as such). One thing I admire about my tribe is, we enjoy patronising our culture. My hairstyle is called ‘Akwele Waobii’ translated as Akwele’s Fingers. So technically, this hairstyle is meant for me.

It’s always fun, engaging in an unplanned shoot. I’ll share the professional photographs with you when I get hold of them, but for now, take a look at these selfies.

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He is one of the few my mind syncs with. Befriending a notable Ghanaian in the arts industry has been, so far, one of the most amazing things I’ve done.

Steve Ababio is down to earth, real, intelligent, smart, God-fearing, and older than I am. Hah!

About a week ago, I paid him a visit at his residence; it’s serene and peaceful, especially when there is electricity and mosquitoes aren’t obsessing over your skin at about 4pm in the garden.

Here is the story behind the yellow bench – a short story; “you are not a certified model until take a shot on the yellow bench”.

So now tell me, how did I do?

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  • Follow Steve Ababio on Instagram HERE.
  • Follow Steve Ababio on Facebook HERE.

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Clay Visuals has an exciting thing going on and I was thrilled to be a part of it. The proliferation of photographers producing portraits with different niches, but that’s alright… impressive too.

Matthews, a team member, contacted me and proposed to do headshots with facial expressions. The project simply had the head shot out of the original headshot, literally, against a coloured background, with a text across the face describing the model’s facial expression.

Check out his previous work tagged ‘Happy’

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Here are a few BTS photos with the photographer. It was fun and swift.

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Photography: Clay Visuals [Instagram]


 

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I want to be a child again. I didn’t mean that completely but yeah… Growing up is plenty of work; there are responsibilities, consciousness, choices, attention, menstruation, school, pressure, makeup, hashtags… pfft!

I miss my childhood sometimes. I enjoy feeling like a child after 24, and I guess it’s in all of us too, yet 24 is too much of a  number to get stuck into reminiscing childhood moments and desires.

Growing up is some experience! So far, it’s been an interesting ride.

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DAY III

I got my neighbour to stretch my hair with the new black thread on the market. The market women said it’s an effective way of straightening the hair since the black hair naturally shrinks; we wanted our hair to look straight, if not close to straight, like the white women’s, we wanted to feel it being blown by the wind. It’s my first time trying this. Abena requested I did it so I have a closer resemblance to the foreign wig she’ll wear on her wedding day.

Now, I could only see 6 shiny long stretched strands of my hair hanging on my head. It looked different. I looked different, at least that’s what I saw in the mirror. A birthday gift from Abena, the mirror; 2 inches long with an orange painted wooden frame. I can see my image exactly as it is, clearer than I did in the water. The first time I looked into it, I thought I saw my soul looking back. Now, I’m contemplating telling her the truth. Will she believe me? Even my son doesn’t. He thinks I’m making it all up, like I’ve made up Kwabena all these years. Kwabena is real. He was disappointed, my son, but I felt bruised. He said I’m lonely and unwell in the head, and can only have imaginary friends who won’t tell me the truth in my face. He said discussing his father was too sensitive for me to be playing games with. Paa didn’t believe me; he’s everything I have now, and he just won’t believe me.

We’re at Abena’s at the moment for a dinner party. Abena suggested we celebrate my birthday and her upcoming union tonight. Baby-daddy sat next to me on my right hand side. I don’t know what that signifies. In this community, nothing happens by chance or luck. It’s either the work of the gods being manifested or it has some mysterious hand around it. Paa sat right across Baby-daddy and kept staring at him.

Kobbie: Hey kiddo, you’ve got something for me?

Abena: Yeah Paa, you seem to have something under those sleeves, literally and figuratively [smiles]

Paa: I’m 13, Auntie Abena, please slow down on the grammar.

All laugh, except me, obviously.

Abena: You can ask Kobbie anything, ok? C’mon, what are you curious about?

This is where I go numb, praying for the rapture to happen, now.

Paa: I’m worried about mother. Do you know a friend of hers called Kwabena? What of Fii?

Abena: Your mother can have friends besides me, there’s nothing wrong with it.

Paa: This is where you’re wrong. She’s the only one who sees them, and yesterday, I overheard her talking to Kwabena about my father. She said my father is here with us.

Abena: Wait… Wait… Huh?! Aku, is this true? I thought Kobina was dead. I mean, I never got to meet him but… He’s here with us in Kusiman?

I… Well… Yes, but…

Paa: No, I think mother is sick and needs medical attention.

Kobbie: C’mon kiddo, don’t say that about your mother. Wait… Did you say you’re 13?

No, Kobbie, don’t do this.

The tension couldn’t have risen any higher. The stars were too bright and looked too close. It was beginning to get cold outside.

Aku: I’m sorry Abena, but it’s late now and Paa has school at sunrise. We should take our leave.

Just when I take Paa by the hand, he turns and screams in a loud voice.

Paa: She says Uncle Kobbie is my father!! Uncle Kobbie, are you my father? This is all confusing but I have to know. Did you abandon me all these years to come back and marry mother’s friend? Or is mother just making up this like her imaginary friends?

At this moment, it’s as if the gods and the heavens held their breath to listen to who says what next. I couldn’t describe the dead silence any better.

Paa: Why is everyone quiet? Say something.

Abena: Aku, take your son home. Now.

Anyone ever told you, “I like your style”?

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Well, I think sneakers are yummy.
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These ones were gifted from my closest friend on my birthday this year. It was my favourite gift that day, not that I had many anyway.

I don’t mind wearing sleek heels for formal and corporate events, but I’ll choose sneakers over hills any day!

Style has evolved as a big deal today. The fashion world is taking over; Make-up Artists (MUAs), designers, tailors, fashion illustrators, models and photographers’ works are trending on social media like wildfire.

Appearances matters now. Signature looks even. There’s Rhianna’s Hair and Janelle Monae’s Black and Whiteness, not forgetting Africans returning to their Natural Hair roots, and rocking every style; whether afro, bald or locs.
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Style is primarily a reflection of one’s personality or mood at a peculiar time. It could be artistic or abstract, simple or meaningless.

There’s no wrong style or right style. I’d rather they be categorized as appropriate and/or inappropriate depending on the environment or circumstance.

My style is quite simple. I dress to feel confident: afrocentric, beads, sneakers, boots, T-shirts, trousers… Bodycon, heels and skirts when I deliberately want to feel sexy. Hahaha!!