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I recently attended a colorful exhibition held at El Gallo Gallery in East Los Angeles. I find the art scene and the entrepreneurial spirit that exists in East LA quite fascinating!
I have been to this place few times before. The first time I was there – it was about a couple of years ago I attended a screening of a HBO movie – “Walkout”. It was an epic Hispanic civil rights film directed by Edward James Olmos that I also had a small guest role. This time around, the place was expanded; the crowd was diverse – ranging from dynamic art community to local music talents and filmmakers. Amidst great creative vibe, I met several people who are turning their true passion into rewarding professions. Here is my take on a pattern that you will most likely find among successful entrepreneurs!
Be passionate! This may sound like an obvious tip. But many people follow their passion half-hazardly and end up delivering mediocre result. I recently interviewed Philippa Burgess, the partner at Creative Convergence for my TV show that I am putting together.
She emphasizes on the importance of being passionate, believing in yourself and believing in your faith to get you through. When you are passionate about your effort, it validates your seriousness and commitment. In case of many successful entrepreneurs, they all share similar stories about how people once bought into their passion.
Create a niche – Successful entrepreneurs are good at creating their niches. Creating a niche out of a popular profession or skill is easier said than done. That’s where your creativity ought to kick in. As I have written in one of my earlier posts, people tend to fall for clichés and end up getting lost in the mediocrity trap. Jim Marquez, an East LA based author (and an ESL teacher) is an example of somebody who has created a niche for himself. He has written seven books, numerous columns for popular Los Angeles and European based Art Publications. His material is raw, uncensored yet lively and original. He covers controversial topics yet offers great poetic, truthful social commentaries and stories. His passion and niche helped him self publish all his books. As I often advocate, barriers to entry has truly gone down for creative entrepreneurs to take matters in their own hands and create and promote original materials.
Entrepreneur.com: Latest Articles
Kung Fu in Mesoamerica
08/04/08
Skeeze Whitlow
4317 N. 16th Street
Arlington, VA 22207
http://mason.gmu.edu/~pprende1
Dear Entrepreneur,
“Mira, Mistress of Destiny” (an 83,000 word novel) is a veritable ’How-To’ of psychic ability. Topics, ranging from the recognition of aural energies to a lifelong search for the Authentic Self are set against a background of the European-Maya conquest of 1523. During that cataclysm, a wealth of spiritual knowledge was lost.
Mira was the dispossessed daughter of a ruling mercantile family. As she tried to maintain spiritual connections, while reclaiming her position in Maya society, carriers of the True Cross arrived to destroy all she’d ever known. Mira used physical prowess, ingenuity and spiritual powers to foil her enemy. Think Kung Fu in Mesoamerica. In addition, the accompanying screenplay can assist the sales process.
A fast-paced, engaging, story which prompts readers to seek an inner connection with his or her Creator, this tale generates identification with the female protagonist. As a writer of twenty years, I’ve attained publication regularly, yet, never has a character so thoroughly overtaken my work. An action heroine, to be championed by today’s woman, Mira’s appeal lies in the fact that she takes a stand for moral and spiritual reasons. She re-educates us on our psychic aptitudes, providing hope for millions, and attaining the status of a living Goddess who forges foundations for the aspiration of her time.
Sincerely,
Skeeze Whitlow
Skeeze Whitlow
Estrella’s Walk
Skeeze Whitlow
In due time, I heard through the scuttlebutt word of a most amazing creature. An Indian Goddess. With iridescent beauty holding forth, standing proud, high atop a lush green hilltop in Armuelles. Our destination! And this Goddess’s name was Estrella.
Estrella.
So this was what it was all about: Estrella. They spoke of her with reverence. Beauty untouchable. Estrella’s light feminine mannerisms captivate. A ray of hope shines from above with the mention of this Goddess. Genuine seven crowned Chiriqui. Her dimensions consummate apparition like karat fixates diamond. Blamless vitality shifts through spectrum. Bizarre shades of night. The earth created for her amusement; water conceived so she might have somewhere to walk. Well formed bare feet, exquisite in their arch. She moves through dreams. And upon them. Every ethereal grace rewards those touched by Estrella.
A glimpse of her as she wanders down toward the sea, on midnight strolls with a sleek panther who comes out of the jungle to nuzzle against the firm of her thigh. Momentary pleasure indulges as they, two together, amble along the noiseless depth of riverside’s mist. As if in dance, she’d sway; he’d stretch velvety paws of guile. Heel and paw glisten over shiny slate, over garlands of flowers draped along the bank, sashaying through low fronds brushing against the calves of their legs. Touching the wily innocence of this night. Clinging vines reach for river’s succor. Before glowing orchids of Espirito Santo the atmosphere smacks of forever. They absorb the water’s babbling gurgle. In plain sight. Reptillian alertness. El grande zappo. The sensitive eyes of all God’s creatures. Below nesting birds of paradise, the cat’s haunching vertebre slithers to the tickle of brazen fingernails. Down to the river’s mouth, they step, often carelessly setting foot within the tempting flow, keeping clear of large round phosphorescent boulders. Dappled moonlight gleams.
Down to the gushing mouth where white crests of algae-laden sea lap against this peaceful flow, against these deep reflective pools which began their trickle and fall from craggy mountains, clear as day, rolling down through leafy hillsides to vast grasses, dipping to banana plantations. Estrella’s native land. Top soil takes on new meaning. Still waters span loamy banks. Aqua elements meet, touch and mingle. Rich dark silt sweats out nutrients. Shallow roots caress. Palms touch the starry starry sky. Thin trees, overgrowth of vine. Shoots and sprouts, scrubby bushes, blossoming bijous. Tiny, scurrying things thrive here. Off to the side of the pummeled footpath, beneath lush cover – small eyes blink. Noises coo. Magic escapes in effervescence. Memory bubbles!
To a hallowed opening in this suffocating jungle flora. The melding of fresh water and salt, a frothy bubbling point where the flow’s clarity is engulfed. Clouded. Enraptured. This land’s sweet nectar gives way to the sea’s stiff breeze. Estrella bids the famished cat drink. Lowering its head, the panther dips its tongue into brackish liquid. Slurping, lapping up juices of life. Sublime juices, pledging elusive powers. His sleek black whiskered mouth stitched with incisors; nimble pink lapper one notch above silence. Need pulsates like spanning rings. Desire craves this vicinity.
Estrella parts with her midnight paramour. Puma, lord God of fear and respect. She’ll walk with him tomorrow night. And ever after. Her ankles kick. Sand and salt sift through urging toes. Dry beach luminescent against crashing waves. Frothing traces of brine. The wind tugs her hair, a knowing smile glistens; she outshines. Her muscles flex. Shadowy flanks curve. Eager feet prowl. In search of dawn.
Yes, this is what I overheard from the beaten and world weary sailors as they made their ways back and forth from the meal table. I was mesmerized. Stunned. My anticipation shot up through the overhead. All I wanted was to meet this woman. Yes. I needed a Goddess like never before.
Word count: 641
Skeeze Whitlow
Estrella’s Walk
Skeeze Whitlow
In due time, I heard through the scuttlebutt word of a most amazing creature. An Indian Goddess. With iridescent beauty holding forth, standing proud, high atop a lush green hilltop in Armuelles. Our destination! And this Goddess’s name was Estrella.
Estrella.
So this was what it was all about: Estrella. They spoke of her with reverence. Beauty untouchable. Estrella’s light feminine mannerisms captivate. A ray of hope shines from above with the mention of this Goddess. Genuine seven crowned Chiriqui. Her dimensions consummate apparition like karat fixates diamond. Blamless vitality shifts through spectrum. Bizarre shades of night. The earth created for her amusement; water conceived so she might have somewhere to walk. Well formed bare feet, exquisite in their arch. She moves through dreams. And upon them. Every ethereal grace rewards those touched by Estrella.
A glimpse of her as she wanders down toward the sea, on midnight strolls with a sleek panther who comes out of the jungle to nuzzle against the firm of her thigh. Momentary pleasure indulges as they, two together, amble along the noiseless depth of riverside’s mist. As if in dance, she’d sway; he’d stretch velvety paws of guile. Heel and paw glisten over shiny slate, over garlands of flowers draped along the bank, sashaying through low fronds brushing against the calves of their legs. Touching the wily innocence of this night. Clinging vines reach for river’s succor. Before glowing orchids of Espirito Santo the atmosphere smacks of forever. They absorb the water’s babbling gurgle. In plain sight. Reptillian alertness. El grande zappo. The sensitive eyes of all God’s creatures. Below nesting birds of paradise, the cat’s haunching vertebre slithers to the tickle of brazen fingernails. Down to the river’s mouth, they step, often carelessly setting foot within the tempting flow, keeping clear of large round phosphorescent boulders. Dappled moonlight gleams.
Down to the gushing mouth where white crests of algae-laden sea lap against this peaceful flow, against these deep reflective pools which began their trickle and fall from craggy mountains, clear as day, rolling down through leafy hillsides to vast grasses, dipping to banana plantations. Estrella’s native land. Top soil takes on new meaning. Still waters span loamy banks. Aqua elements meet, touch and mingle. Rich dark silt sweats out nutrients. Shallow roots caress. Palms touch the starry starry sky. Thin trees, overgrowth of vine. Shoots and sprouts, scrubby bushes, blossoming bijous. Tiny, scurrying things thrive here. Off to the side of the pummeled footpath, beneath lush cover – small eyes blink. Noises coo. Magic escapes in effervescence. Memory bubbles!
To a hallowed opening in this suffocating jungle flora. The melding of fresh water and salt, a frothy bubbling point where the flow’s clarity is engulfed. Clouded. Enraptured. This land’s sweet nectar gives way to the sea’s stiff breeze. Estrella bids the famished cat drink. Lowering its head, the panther dips its tongue into brackish liquid. Slurping, lapping up juices of life. Sublime juices, pledging elusive powers. His sleek black whiskered mouth stitched with incisors; nimble pink lapper one notch above silence. Need pulsates like spanning rings. Desire craves this vicinity.
Estrella parts with her midnight paramour. Puma, lord God of fear and respect. She’ll walk with him tomorrow night. And ever after. Her ankles kick. Sand and salt sift through urging toes. Dry beach luminescent against crashing waves. Frothing traces of brine. The wind tugs her hair, a knowing smile glistens; she outshines. Her muscles flex. Shadowy flanks curve. Eager feet prowl. In search of dawn.
Yes, this is what I overheard from the beaten and world weary sailors as they made their ways back and forth from the meal table. I was mesmerized. Stunned. My anticipation shot up through the overhead. All I wanted was to meet this woman. Yes. I needed a Goddess like never before.
Word count: 641