Of Human Design

This time it was a retreat in Tuscany, sent to me by a friend who knew I couldn’t say no to a trip where I would “get grounded” at an Italian villa through yoga, Human Design and Touchpoint workshops, as well as Tuscan culinary adventures. Who can say no to mindful pasta consumption? I caved.

From as far back as I can recall, I’ve been preoccupied with one major train of thought when it comes to belief systems (and honestly, with most human interactions in general): why do people do what they do? What are they looking for and how will those answers solve any of their problems? It’s a big question to contemplate, I know; but I find more solace in trying to figure people out than attempting to understand the afterlife. My ears perked at the retreat's mention of Human Design, a personality assessment tool supposedly founded on the principles of quantum entanglement and hard data. Was this the bridge between intuition and explanation I was looking for?

There has long been a misalignment between wellness culture and the scientific method. Muddled by celebrity endorsements, popular culture presents plenty of reasons to associate alternative spiritual philosophies with an inherent lack of credibility. Skepticism (and pseudoscience) aside, there must exist some inherent truth buried within observational “folk” systems like astrology, the I-Ching, and the Kabbalah, among many others; all systems developed to help our human brains navigate a chaotic world.

The quest to merge hard science and “New Age” philosophies in the study of consciousness is nothing new. Assigning meaning and understanding manifests in culture through religion, yoga, mysticism, science; our brains exist in a state of constant prediction, looking for patterns and anticipation in order to quell the anxiety of simply being alive in turbulent times. When it comes to investigating the deepest and most personal aspects of the unknown – ourselves – how do we reconcile centuries of intuition with the relatively new standard of precise science?

In the 1970s, reactionary movements railing against the political isolationism prominent during the Cold War era prompted sit-ins, teach-ins and love-ins. The reemergence of philosophical physics synchronized with the overarching radical atmosphere in the United States and abroad to provide the perfect cultural combination for psychic experiments, LSD trips, Eastern meditations and self-help workshops as ordinary citizens sought meaning in an increasingly hectic world.

It was during this period in American history that a group of fringe physicists associated with the University of California, Berkeley known as the Fundamental Fysiks Group began experimenting with the concept of quantum entanglement in a grand quest to investigate the nature of non-duality. During what I like to consider the first and best corporate retreat, these physicists gathered at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur – a center founded by Michael Murphy in 1962 after a sixteen-month spiritual journey through remote ashrams in India – to discuss physics, meditation, and do “workshops” (read: psychedelics). While the Fundamental Fysiks Group didn’t end up answering too many of their outstanding questions regarding the connection between Eastern mysticism and non-duality, the study of consciousness and search for meaning is still very much underway in contemporary culture.

In a much-needed respite and what would end up being my very own iteration of that not-entirely-fateful retreat at the Esalen Institute, I followed my intuition to Tuscany with a few goals in mind: firstly, to find out if the advertised Human Design workshop would bring me closer to alignment with the universe and my coded purpose in life, and secondly, to eat as much Italian food as humanly possible. An experience created and curated by contɘnt, a female-founded brand consultancy based in Brooklyn, the Get Grounded retreat (as it was aptly named) was fundamentally designed to encapsulate the modern need to tune out and tune in. Recognizing the desire for life-changing wellness journeys, contɘnt co-founders Alison Belilty and Tori Lazar started Get Grounded as a venture towards transitioning wellness experiences away from the mainstream status quo of disconnected programming and into the realm of playful, introspective immersion. By millenials, for millenials – the Get Grounded retreat was about experience in the name of self-discovery; plus, it was all very chic.

Despite literally being picture perfect, this retreat wasn’t necessarily Instagram fodder, though the rolling hills of Tuscany made the perfect backdrop for effective ‘grams. Over the course of the carefully planned 7-day retreat, seekers enjoyed a schedule of yoga, meditation, three square vegetarian meals made with produce grown on the property at Maraviglia Conscious Living Center, and participated in hands-on activities ranging from pasta making workshops to a mind-off trip to local hot springs. Internationally recognized (and Brooklyn-based) workshop leaders Erin Claire Jones, Human Design Guide and Leadership Coach and Jared Matthew Weiss, founder of Touchpoint, a town-hall style conversation on sex and relationships were selected by contɘnt to fulfil the psychological and emotional aspect of the journey.

Much like Esalen Institute founder Michael Murphy, the concept for Maraviglia was conceived of during a period of spiritual journeying and discovery by Italian-American entrepreneur Francesco Piatilli. After 8 years of running his own branding agency in New York City, Piatilli, who was raised amongst the rolling hills and slow lifestyle of Tuscany, found that the balance he craved in his life wasn’t achievable with a big city lifestyle. Finding new strength just below his apartment in the form of a tai-chi studio, Piatilli started on a path of spiritual exploration going as far as South America.

When Piatelli founded Maraviglia as a conscious living center, one thing was clear from the start: the people who were to gather there (namely international creative professionals) needed to stop everything in order to slow down and connect. “Conscious living has to be the base connector how guests interact amongst themselves and the environment,” Piatilli says, reflecting on the disconnectedness city living justifies. “If you live in a big city... it creates a disconnect within yourself and with others. You have to make that disconnect otherwise you’re going to go crazy.”

For Piatilli, Tuscany and Maraviglia specifically is not just a beautifully-situated, internationally-aware location where professionals and spiritual seekers can come to slow down, it’s home. Piatilli grew up within the walls of Maraviglia, playing amongst the property’s some 100 olive trees; now, he has transformed his childhood home and created a space that is a magical spot for connections to flourish in a profound way. The roots here are deep. Piatilli muses, “a place like [Maraviglia], you can let go of your guard.”

The connectedness of a natural lifestyle is abundant throughout the property, where Piatilli employs biodynamic farming methods to generate almost all the foods available for guests of the villa. There is an herb garden for both culinary and medicinal purposes (including one of the best bug bite balms I’ve ever used), bee hives, and, of course, olive trees, which have been on the property for about 400 years.

This type of slow, conscious living would be nothing without the subconscious. Retreat host Erin Claire Jones, Human Design coach, led workshops throughout the course of the week engaging attendees in meditative kundalini yoga sessions before detailing the particulars of their coded personality charts. This was the meat I was looking for: a deeper understanding of my predetermined Human Design “code”.

According to Human Design’s official website, The Jovian Archive, Human Design was created in the 1980s, a time of extreme cultural decrepitude, manic capitalism, and a lot of stimulants. Founder and messenger Ra Uru Hu (né Alan [Robert] Krokower) from Montreal, Canada and departed in 1983 to travel and fatefully ended up in Ibiza. In January 1987 Ra Uru Hu experienced a mystical enlightening over the course of 8 days and nights, during which time he channeled the transmission of information that would become the Human Design System.

Here’s where the quantum physics comes in: Human Design is fundamentally based on neutrinos. These energy particles carry “infinitesimally small” amounts of mass (information). The Jovian Archive states that “approximately 100 trillion neutrinos pass through your body every second.” With 70% of neutrinos in our solar system being emitted from the sun, the remaining 30% are sourced from other celestial bodies (stars and, for some reason, the planet Jupitor). The Human Design chart purports to map the movement of these neutrino information beams, and each individual’s chart (there are 2 billion combinations) captures imprints of neutrino-sourced information from two separate moments: about 88 days before birth, and at the time of birth.

On top of this neutrino framework lies several other charts for interpreting the energy imprints: a hexagram of 64 Gates, corresponding with the I’Ching as well as our 64 DNA codons, the Western Zodiac, 36 Kabbalah channels connecting the 9 Centers or “energy hubs”. The resulting chart is a pyramidal structure called a BodyGraph that detail where we are defined and predictable, and where we are more receptive to outside influences and our environment – in essence, the code for our “design” and our “personality.” Neither bad nor good, navigating the Body Graph requires the insight of a trained coach in order to interpret to its full potential.

Jones has been guiding clients through their personal charts since 2015. As we sat in the shalla, a structure on Maraviglia’s property sacredly dedicated to yoga, meditation and learning, Erin and I reviewed my chart. Unlike other personality assessment methods, the BodyGraph reveals aspects of oneself that for once in my life were validated by an outside lense – aspects that weren’t necessarily mystical, but intuitive and truthful. The system takes hyper-specific aspects of the personality: everything from how good you are at casual conversation to how you most successfully tend to make decisions (i.e. gut reactions vs. emotional processes).

Generally a self-aware person, none of the insights from my chart caused surprise or caught me off guard but our sessions did result in a more holistic, forgiving, and actionable attitude towards self-observation. For instance: my Throat Center, the energy center of communication, action, and attention seeking, is open or “undefined.” Some of the observable traits of people with open Throat Centers are “not knowing when to stop talking” and “seeking attention” (though it should be noted that every energy center has a “shadow” and a “wisdom”. The gift of gab and attention seeking might seem like shadows, but Jones clarified that the wisdoms to such traits mostly include being an extremely effective communicator). I have a lot to say always, so this came as no surprise to me.

Throughout the week at Maraviglia, I often found myself thinking of how the insights from Human Design were actually helping me be kinder to myself. During our trip to the hot springs, I sat under the steaming sulfuric waterfall and contemplated all the times my sacral gut response was dead on in recent business decisions. After rolling pasta dough during our ravioli-making workshop, a supercut of all the times I should have just kept my mouth shut scrolled through my brain. While taking my late-afternoon swim each day, I mulled over how I would lean in more to my profile (a 4/1, if anyone is interested) so that I can maximize my impact on this lifetime. I wondered if the physicists at Esalen felt this way; were they as satisfied with their scientific explorations as I was?

The thing that resonated with me most about diving into Human Design is that it didn’t provide answers, predictions or excuses – just insight. At the beginning of the retreat, our group sat in the shalla under yoga blankets and set intentions for the week. To say I achieved my intention would be counter to its purpose, but rather I lived my intention: I received energy through the curated workshops and experiences, and empathically listened to my peers share stories and emotions (both painful and joyous) during Weiss’s intimate Touchpoint sessions. It was a satisfying exploration of how reflection and growth can manifest among a group of strangers in a foreign country. If categorization is our brain’s natural defense mechanism against an overabundance of chaotic data, paring down to a simpler, less overwhelming lifestyle with a prescribed chart of my own personality and “design” achieved, even if only temporarily, a state of calm and connectedness. Plus, being in Tuscany certainly helped.

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line is wrapped around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?,” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I am going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounded fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I imagine the inside to be a mirror of this, hopefully with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I made a mental note to not drink too much liquid, the bathroom line is almost as long as the line outside. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provided me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

My hips swing around before I head towards the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I head back to dance when I hear Shigecki’s set start. I’m jumping around, sweating, and when I pause for a beat I let out a yelp. There are strippers working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.