Ron Norsworthy brings his version of black glitter to Fifth Avenue – Essence

There is not any nonsense in Ron Norsworthy’s look and tone. I noticed this immediately during our conversation. The interdisciplinary artist it has owl-like eyes, black, wide and glossy. With as much emphasis as the good Reverend, Norsworthy tilts his head, bobbing like a corkscrew, and declares that each single one of us who walks this earth is “f… beautiful.” In the era we live in, full of mental distortions, plasticized aesthetics and distorted self-image, his balanced words and sermons seem particularly energizing. Many times I resist the urge to arise and shout, “Amen!” Ready to release one of those long and loose church “.”

We sit within the Edwynn Houk Gallery on Fifth Avenue, curled up in lavish chairs surrounding Norsworthy’s upcoming exhibition. He is dressed simply in an olive green motorcycle jacket, thin jeans and a dove gray turtleneck, with the identical authority as his royal subjects. The revision of the tragic Greek myth goals to overthrow not only the exclusionary cliques of beauty and history, but in addition to hold a mirror up to a nation eternally erased. As frivolous because the word “beauty” may sound, beauty as a system is commonly an insidious concept.

“Who can be beautiful? Who are the arbiters of beauty?” These are the questions Norsworthy asks and explores through his exhibition. “Whom does culture favor, allow and support? We cannot think about beauty without thinking about gender, class, or ethnicity, and these are all narratives that have shaped us. They are, and often classical notions of beauty have been shaped by white models of power. I wanted to bring these narratives to life and make them more relevant to people like me,” Norsworthy says at one point in our conversation.

Born and raised in South Bend, Indiana, Norsworthy’s path to becoming an influential figure within the art world was shaped by the ladies in his family. She tells me the story about her grandmother’s jewelry box, its light, each set, and all of the pendants. “I remember her sewing, us both looking at the illustrations, and then I ran over to try and sketch the dresses,” he said. His mother was one other figure he admired growing up. She remembers how sensually she tied the scarves. Here he mentions what he calls “her amazing fur”, which he loved immensely. “I know too many beautiful black women who just knew how to carry themselves – it was never about the physical marks, it was about how they radiated the whole package.”

These impressions shaped by black women left an indelible mark on his stylistic edicts. Like his grandmother, he doesn’t mix fashion with style, preferring high-quality wardrobe staples over low-cost and poorly produced fabrics. “Fashion is a moment,” declares Norsworthy. “Style is eternal and I have never been interested in that kind of impermanence.” He is currently experiencing a “tailored moment” by designing and embroidering his suits and jackets. Also favorites are designers resembling Emily Adams Bode Aujla and Thom Browne, whom she praises for his or her level of tailoring. Like his works of art, Norsworthy’s style just isn’t only a way to honor the depths of our inner life, but in addition an energetic way to empower our change.

“I grew up in a time where so many restrictions were placed on me. It was a form of perpetual anxiety because I knew I’d never meet them,” Norsworthy recalled. He tells stories about his upbringing that made it difficult for him to build a world in which he felt comfortable or that made sense. “I believe it’s extremely necessary that we are able to look within the mirror and say, ‘I’m not ashamed of who I’m,’ and that every of us can live strongly in our identity.”

Norsworthy’s profession began in the sector of set design, where he created visually stunning sets or “site-specific installations” for artists resembling Britney Spears, Lisa Marie Presley, Notorious BIG and plenty of others. The visionary behind movies resembling Erykah Badu’s “Bag Lady” and Foxy Brown’s “I’ll Be” has collaborated with such luminaries as costume designer June Ambrose and director Hype Williams. Missy Elliott’s “The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly)” is one other feat he is amazingly proud of achieving. “Set design and creative direction were my first canvases,” he admits. “It was a way for me to express myself and challenge the limits of our dreams.”

For nearly thirty years, his designs, characterised by baroque mise-en-scenes and ornate reality, have made him one of probably the most sought-after names within the industry. But Norsworthy’s ambitions at all times prolonged beyond the world of stage design. “I never wanted to limit myself to one medium,” he explains. He claims that art is about exploration and experimentation – it’s a way of crossing boundaries.

He soon began to explore other forms of artistic expression, from photography to installation. After starting his own brand, he became one of the primary black men to offer sold-out collections. “I have a very wide practice. I’m not afraid of materials.” He says he loves sculptures, collages and assemblages. Here, Norsworthy mentions that he can even create beyond his expectations. “If I decided I wanted to design sneakers or a wedding dress, I could and would do it using the same methodology.”

Among eleven offerings, swirling photographs mined from the Internet and transferred to picket panels, Norsworthy offers the type of narrative that almost all movies refuse to take into consideration, let alone imagine. Instead of black lives mutilated, stripped of dignity and degraded, each portrait that comes together is a study in delicious splendor. In Norsworthy’s universe, black men stare upon their reflections in cozy, warmly lit homes or wear tailored suits adorned with cabochon brooches and diamond flowers.

In one portrait, titled “Narcissus in Fleetwood Chapel,” a Renaissance figure resembling the enduring artist Prince, with a petulant expression and a lavish coat, lounges affectionately in a Cadillac Coupe DeVille. Although Norsworthy insists that they’re all his favorites, this one remains to be electrifying.” It challenges what we mean by gender. She is wearing tights, no top, no shirt, fur, and her hair is curly. I really like all these elements combined with his pose and reflection.”

In one other peculiar photo, a person elegantly dressed looks on the exquisite beauty of a portrait of Laura Wheeler Waring. In others, vases, roses and tulips are decorated with sparkling diamonds that might be found at a Sotheby’s auction.

My favorite from the exhibition is named) A young man seems to be searching through the frame. His skin, a greedy shade of brown, seems to absorb all the sunshine. He is hunched over, half-dressed, and his thighs are decorated with tulips. His hair is flooded Soul Head that may destroy the couch. A necklace of pearls and diamonds hangs around his collarbones and chest. The suit hangs on the wall. At his feet lie a suitcase and a pair of women’s shoes. The room he’s in is empty and full of luxuries: a stool, an antique mirror, a still life portrait, and an unopened package draped over a pink chair. Refracted rainbows dance on the wallpaper and floor. But what intrigues me most is the person’s face.

His lips are pursed and his gaze is nearly confrontational, although his posture seems gentle, gentle, and his shoulders are hunched. Is he nervous? Is this an invasion of his privacy? Is he sad? Has he lost a friend? Am I studying it an excessive amount of? Wanting deeply to be soaked in what I imagine? Is that just his face? Or perhaps he’s bored, tired of being elegant, tired of being seen in any respect, tired of the ridiculous binaries of the world.

Of all my habits, probably the most crucial to my survival was the knowledge that there was no diamond as brilliant as mine. I grew up in a house full of a mother’s sublime love. A love that insisted that I believe highly of myself, hold my head high, value my feelings, and spend hours respecting myself within the mirror.

There were, of course, just a few years once I confused self-confidence with self-love, and two years once I lost strength under the load of the world. But still, my mother’s love for me surpassed any form of hatred. I need everyone to know this sense of mastery. I wish everyone knew how to stay calm in a world that’s betting on us destroying our self-awareness. One of probably the most stunning effects of the commodification of beauty is its subtlety and normalization. This concept only offers a refracted mirror that may put you at war with yourself and devour your imagination.

These ideals indicate why Norsworthy’s work raises a crucial and urgent query. What would the world be like if we softened our minds and dared to love our reflections? His latest exhibition goals to answer this query in a novel way.