I Picked a Good Head
We kicked off 2026 with a packed house and a wait list. Before claiming an empty seat, people lingered just long enough to grab a cup of CrashMurderBusiness coffee and a delectable treat from Santa Fe Sconery—a bakery proving that scones can be moist, flaky, and packed with inventive flavor combos.
January’s theme was KOORSO, which means “a faint glimmer of hope” in Farsi. But when artist and educator Phoenix Savage took to the mic, she rejected the word hope entirely.
“Hope,” she said, “is powerless. It doesn’t offer the user any agency.” Instead, Phoenix proposed something more demanding: trust.
Trust, she explained, is a quiet, internal certainty that doesn’t outsource responsibility. Unlike hope, it requires participation.
This distinction matters because language shapes what we believe, how we act, and what we believe is possible. Phoenix spent a year in Nigeria as a Fulbright Fellow studying traditional Yoruba philosophy, where words are understood as active forces that help create reality. In Yoruba, the word ase represents the power of the spoken word.
Phoenix also introduced the concept of the head—ori—as more than anatomy. In Yoruba philosophy, the head is destiny. There’s a saying that translates to “I picked a good head,” a reminder that destiny isn’t assigned so much as chosen. As Phoenix put it, “It’s my job to ensure the best possible outcomes by honoring my head when I wake up.”
Her art reflects this same philosophy. She creates work that asks viewers to participate rather than observe. Heads and ears appear throughout, including a collection of ear sculptures that quite literally talk back, responding to the audience with mo gbo, which means, “I hear you.”
Koorsoo, reimagined as trust, isn’t passive. It asks us to choose our words carefully, act with intention, and stay aligned with our destiny.
Celina Hunt won the door prize—a free, hour-long psychic reading with Phoenix.
The morning closed with an icebreaker that carried the theme forward. The ask: write down a word, a quote, or a phrase you trust when things feel uncertain. The cards were collected and randomly redistributed—no names, just words to carry. One member read hers and said, “Wow, this was meant for me.”
It read: Flow with grace.
Eight people stood up for 30-Second Pitches. See what’s brewing, and get their contact info here.
And a huge thank you to Jeshaka for creating this month's incredible Sketch Notes!
Check out January’s Flickr Album.
Photos by Ivan Barnett and Marisa Gjurgevich.
Video by SpaceHelmetPictures.
