WWM [f560d3d]

Phil Knight used to repeat a mantra: "The cowards never started and the weak died along the way. That leaves us, ladies and gentlemen. Us."

Michael. LeBron. Serena. Virgil. Leo.

While much spectacle has been made about the Pope wearing Nikes — and the Americanness of Chicago's highest son finding tradition in modernity — we must yet again thank the midwest for saving America's greatest export. MJ and Leo in Chicago. Virgil in Rockford, IL. LeBron in Akron, OH. Serena in Saginaw, MI. All masters of their craft, pushing Beaverton into a new era.

The swoosh might've been designed in Oregon, but the heartland gave it a soul. Turns out, when Phil Knight said "us" he was talking about Chicago.

Though in many ways I’ve always known, I’ve only this weekend indwelled that without breath, we are nothing. I don’t mean that in some grand cosmic way (such is given) but in a kōanic, simple observation. Sure there are the meditators and monks and wellness types who know this all too well, but what about the rest of us? Do we take breath for granted? Or do we reserve that attention for the moments that matter?

Yesterday I laid on the brick in my backyard next to my Great Dane, Louie, as he died from what I assume was a heart attack (he was 9 and had DCM and a number of other long-term ailments, though through the end he was happy and nosy and sassy and playful all the same). I can’t shake the sound and feel of his last breath. One final exhale. There may be a word that encapsulates it — if there is I don’t know it. But then I noticed myself time after time yesterday and today exhaling slowly as my mind went back. I thought of my collegiate decathlon days, exhaling as I heard “on your marks”, drowning out all that was around me. I thought of the slightly-more-forceful-than-average exhales on my rebreather, deeper underwater than the Statue of Liberty is tall. Maybe it’s a good thing we think of breath only when absolutely necessary. Scarcity eases preciousness, even if only in notice. And what’s more precious than breath?

There's magic in an idea that can only be glimpsed.

Every once in a while, Kendrick Lamar's possibly untitled teaser track for GNX gets stuck in my head. I'm still not sure if it's the track itself or that it's unresolved, abruptly cut off at exactly one minute. A coiled spring. Dangerous. "Curated Vacancy".

The teaser preceded the album release by only 30 minutes. Who needs time to build the tension when information travels at the speed of light? Then, the magic doubled. The track was conspicuously absent from the album it introduced. Maybe it'd be on a deluxe version or only on physical media... but what we got was even better. Feb 2025 at the Super Bowl. Opening track again. The first Super Bowl with a sitting President in attendance, just three months after an election that roiled the country. Samuel L. Jackson as Uncle Sam introducing K.Dot at "The Great American Game". 65,719 in the arena and another 133,500,000 watching at home. Lamar illuminated by a single, far-away spotlight reminiscent of the opening of HUMBLE, gazing downwards while crouched on the hood of black GNX. But this time we get more than a minute. Trump, in his suite, looking down on Lamar, hears for the first time with all of us, "You would not get the picture if I had to sit you for hours in front of the Louvre... started with nothing but government cheese, but now I can seize the government too". While I doubt the bar was directed at the President, artwork worth its while always finds its audience.

Painters for centuries have offered us glimpses behind the curtain. Next time you're in NY go to the Met and visit The Third-Class Carriage (c. 1864). A nursing mother, an old woman, a sleeping boy — peasants in the cheap seats, painted the same as royals. Daumier was a newspaper man, mostly. Lithographs in Le Charivari and a caricature of the king that landed him in prison. Most of his paintings unseen until the year before his death. The completed Third-Class Carriage hangs in Ottawa. The Met's is unfinished. Grid lines still visible under the figures, scaffolding the artist never painted over. "Curated Vacancy" framing the discussion as France realized its democracy. Artwork, like government, belongs to the people.