Introducing: From the Soul of MARRISA WILSON

Hello? Is this thing on? Is anyone there?

Since the start of the new year, I’ve been feeling… disconnected. Fried. Disillusioned. With the entire fashion industry, and where my work fits into it. When I first dreamed about going in to fashion, all the way back in the 2nd grade, I didn’t envision the industry to be where it is today. 

Whether you are in the fashion industry, a fashion lover, or someone who is interested in how fashion speaks to culture are large, you may be noticing some shifts in our digital relationships. As artists, we are burnt out by the impossible pace of social media, a failing retail economy, dwindling opportunities to be heard or seen, and celebrity-led brands commanding all of the attention. As consumers, we have over-consumed enough meaningless content but are always ready to receive the next dose of dopamine-inducing entertainment. 

I don’t like the word “content.” I think we live in a world of made of words, with made up meanings. And “content” is the worst of them all — especially with so much of it, so much digital stuff

And I hate making it, just ask my business partner (and my new husband who I love dearly!), how much of a nightmare it is to get me to film a piece of content. It’s truly an awful experience for everyone involved. I love creating tangible things — designing clothes, putting on runway shows — that comes naturally to me. But making content to promote myself and my brand — taking selfie videos to talk about what I’ve created and hoping I can convince you all to care—  always feels forced and fake. 

 
 
 

And while you may enjoy viewing that content, — or, more likely, may not have seen it because I don’t play the game enough for the algorithm to show you — it truly kills me inside. It’s just not how I want to represent myself or my work. 

But unfortunately, my disdain for making content has translated into missed opportunities, from collaborations to retail partnerships, because no one is willing to take a risk on talent that doesn’t have a massive following. It’s had real life implications, which is a quite weird thing to me. Because it used to be that if you worked very hard, had a clear point of view, created a unique, high quality product, and delivered it beautifully and creatively, people would notice. Our artistic output was our value. 

Now the expectation is that, on top of all of that, you also need to run a production studio, constantly create fresh content, spend all day on every social media channel, stay up to date on every new trend, self-promote until your blue in the face, and hope that the algorithmic powers-that-be allow your content to even be seen. Maybe, if you’re lucky (and funny, charming, witty, insightful, attractive, entertaining) enough, you can become not just an artist, but an influencer. That is the only way now to break through the noise and grab attention. 

And if you’ve seen this story from The Cut on how Independent designers are hanging on by a thread, or this NYT article on how New York is not able to support emerging talent, or this Business of Fashion article on what designers are doing to survive, I’ll tell you that where the fashion industry is right now… ain’t it. 

So where does that put me? Oddly enough, over these last several weeks of introspection, through the stress and challenges of running this business, I’ve realized that I need to imagine even bigger. Bigger than the noise and the contrivances the industry values. I know that the work I’ve accomplished is not by accident. And I’ve also realized that you, too, need to imagine even bigger. Because your work and value is not by accident either. 

So where does one start in this David vs. Goliath-sized task …?

Well, I’ve been journaling and filling up a fresh sketchbook every day for the past several weeks. And this is now my fourth working session, my fourth attempt to write this first journal entry and put my jumbled thoughts and sketches into words. My first attempt was to collect all of my feeling from my journal and express them. It was… a lot.

With a bit of reflection, I tried again, take two. This time I sat down, made some tea, listened to all of Erykah Badu’s albums (maybe Baduizm and Mama’s Gun twice) and just tried sketching while I processed what I wanted to say. 

For some reason, I decided to use pastels. I’d started experimenting with pastels in the early concept development of my Fall/Winter 2023 Collection. But I had never used them for fashion illustrations, only for still life drawings, like fruit. I’ve used them to warm up my hand but have always relied more on gouache, which I was more comfortable with because I built my portfolio with markers, colored pencils, and paint. 

But on this night, I let go of what I thought I knew about my skillset and just let my hand and my mind wander.

I took a lot of photos along the way, just to see if any ideas came to me. I had no expectations for what the finished product would look like, or what I was capable of doing. I never thought to try to render something as accurately as I could using pastels. There are so many hyper-realistic pastel artists that I guess I assumed I wasn’t going to be very good at it. But I don’t even think it was that conscious, I just… never thought to… 

And when I finished, I had drawn a very detailed pastel piece. I definitely didn’t expect to do that. I was surprised and excited by it, and I didn’t realize how many hours had gone by… 

So that was my second attempt.  My third attempt at writing this first entry was sitting back down with this finished pastel drawing and trying to figure out what to say. I still hadn’t come up with anything. But I had this really good illustration that I never thought my hand was capable of making. So while I hadn’t written anything, I think I actually said a lot. 

The output may or may not be something hard and tangible, but I greatly improved on a skill. And I hadn’t done that in a long time — practice a skill simply to get better, without a specific idea of where it would go in mind, or for a specific project. The result was unexpected but it still has incredible value. 

And those are the moments that I feel like are missing from my life in this digital age, and perhaps you may feel the same way too. While the death of journalism in this age of content will tell you otherwise, everything shouldn’t be bite-sized and easy to digest. Because these moments are just as (if not more) important than the editorial moments or the finished product. 

It’s not sexy, it’s not flashy, but it’s important and honest. 

And I think that’s a good way to introduce what this space aims to do in the World of MW. My goals are so much bigger than the box this industry has put me in, and apparel products are just one piece of this world I want to build. But rather than draft up a laundry list of grievances to make the fashion version of a Diary of a Mad Black Woman, I need to create the world that I want to be in. And that path is not quick or easy, and I don’t have a complete vision for what exactly it looks like. 

What I’m saying is… I don’t have a flashy way to introduce this journal and welcome you into this space. Not one our digital world will value. 

I just know that I need to do it and hope that the work will provide enough value itself. 

I just know that I need to create a space where we can talk by dreaming, developing, and doing. A space to tinker, unpack and reflect. Practice, reflect, adapt, grow. A space to figure things out, without having to fit into specific proportions or mediums. 

Sort of like an artistic home. 

 
 

I think the idea of home is something that’s largely missing in this digital age. That’s where we really become better versions of ourselves, isn’t it? Not in front of a camera. 

At home is truly where you nourish and replenish your soul. 

So if you’re looking for me, I’ll be here for a little while. I think this space will do me some good, maybe allow me to feel like I’m drowning a little less. I need it, because bitterness does not look cute on me, or go well with yellow. I’m excited to see the version of myself on the other side of this experiment. 

I’ve spent a long time obsessively looking everywhere else outside of me for the answer to it all. But I’ll tell you it’s not found in the depths of the internet, there’s no one piece of content that will tell you exactly what to do, and no marketing strategy that will make you go viral and send you off to a world of happiness. 

I promise, I checked. 

But I believe that I have all the answers right here at my fingertips, and in my head and in my heart. I just need time and space to put all the bits and bots together. And there, you’ll find the magic.

So I hope you’ll subscribe to From the Soul and find interesting things here that you can use to build the world you want to exist in. 

My name is Marrisa Wilson and I hope you hear me. Because I’m just speaking From the Soul. 💛

 

Marrisa Wilson is the Creative Director and Founder of MARRISA WILSON New York. The first generation Guyanese-American designer uses her collections as a medium to explore culture and history through the lens of her Caribbean heritage, with artisan hand-painted prints, high-quality custom fabrics, expert surface treatments and unique textile manipulations.