13.3 Perform

Polina Edmunds Figure Skater

CONTENT

ISSUE 13.3

“Perform” Summer 2021

Cultivator Daniel Garcia

Community Partnerships & Producer Kristen Pfund

Editors

Elizabeth Sullivan, Virginia Graham

Grace Olivieri, Katheryn Hypes

Maddie Cleeland, Katie Shiver

Illustrations Bree Karpavage Interns Jesse Garcia

Photographers

Mark Chua, Peter Salcido Sannie Celeridad, Milan Loiacono Stan Olszewski, Leopoldo Macaya Robert J Schultze

Writers

Esther Young, Jonathan Fung

Johanna Hickle, Chris Jalufka David Ma, Brandon Roos Demone Carter, Michelle Runde Taran Escobar-Ausman Katie Shiver, Kevin Marks Dana Harris Seeger, Jeff Brummett

Publisher SVCREATES

Usually, when writing these brief intros to each issue, I have too many ideas flooding my brain, and I have to discipline myself to find one thought to reflect on, mainly because the people in the issue inspire me so much that I am bursting with praise and want to communicate my desire for you to meet them. This issue, however, I feel flat. Not because these featured people are any less inspirational. They are indeed very inspiring! Polina Edmunds’ journey as an Olympic athlete and courage in her recent retirement reflect the momentous transitions we all have to go through. Pole dancer–entrepreneur, immigrant Lacin Keles shows the triumphs and struggles that make us strong. Photographer Abraham Menor demonstrates a melding of passion, hobby, and interests. And Jackelin Solorio’s performance art that boldly shares her voice and vision of the world all fill me with admiration.

But it is just this pandemic has me in a funk. Not that I really want the world to return to “normal.” I have actually found life more enjoyable without a list of events to attend; there are a few things I have learned I can live without. Yet, the birth of another talent-filled issue without an in-person Pick-Up Party to meet with the members, sponsors, and contributors, I have to admit, makes me sad.

So much of what the magazine is about is to bring creatives together to celebrate and meet each other, while highlighting the talented people featured in the issue. So, with this issue, I find myself at a loss for words. However, I know if you are feeling like I am, reading these articles and getting to know these people will add a spark of joy to your day. Hopefully, this issue marks the end of a long season, and we will celebrate together again soon.

Thank you, Daniel Garcia

THE CULTIVATOR

IN THIS ISSUE

Prince Ali | Cynthia Cao | Chine Slender | Mammoth Pictures

To participate in CONTENT MAGAZINE, email daniel@content-magazine.com

Membership & sponsorship information available by contacting editor@content-magazine.com

Polina Edmunds,

Chine

Jackelin Solorio, pg. 28

Who is public art for?

Written by Dana Harris Seeger Collage by Bree Karpavage

sjartsadvocates.org Social media sanjosearts

There is no doubt whatsoever that art can be very provocative. In all its forms—song lyrics, poetry, painting, sculpture—art has pushed the boundaries of what the society of the time and place would call “acceptable.” What do I mean by “acceptable”? I mean that the general public can understand it in a way that doesn’t cause confusion or offend the beliefs and structures that uphold that our society. Art critics and government officials have always held the keys to what art could be displayed and shown in public or funded with public monies and remove this text.

So what’s wrong with this picture? For one thing, it assumes that those in power (either in government or in the media) know better than the rest of us

and have the right to determine what is shown to us and that we do not have the brains or the education to examine, understand, and choose for ourselves whether we accept the views expressed in the art as our own. It also assumes that our sensibilities are too delicate, nothing and may get offended by political, religious, or social statements that display a different worldview from ours. Most importantly (and probably most likely the cause of censorship throughout time), the artwork disrupts a power structure that those in power are desperate to uphold.

What is it these people don’t want us to see? Well, throughout the history of art, there has been censorship of some type, whether based on morals

or rules of decency, on certain religious beliefs, or on political criticism of a particular group or person. Even long after works have been created, they still remain a target for censorship. For example, when Picasso completed Guernica, a response to the Nazi bombing of the Spanish/Basque town of Guernica in 1937, he didn’t exhibit it in Spain, keeping it out of the hands of those in power he thought would not accept his criticism of their actions. This is agood place for a blue line. It was well-received by those he did exhibit it to. Then in 2003, a tapestry reproduction of the painting at the United Nations was covered up for a press conference held to argue for the bombing of Iraq. Coincidence? The imagery that was depicted

- Dana Harris Seeger

“Art has pushed the boundaries of what the society of the time and place would call `acceptable.’ ”

remained as poignant as the day it was created, now obscured so it wouldn’t interfere with the story the military and government officials were trying to create.

This brings me to the impetus for writing this article: the censorship of a segment of a 2020 exhibition in San Jose, California, USA—not in a foreign country run by a dictator, but rather the epicenter of free speech and creative thinking. During its tenure on display at the San Jose Mineta International Airport, as part of a blue line group exhibit titled Holding the Moment, a piece entitled Americana, by Eric Bui, was the cause of distress among airport staff, police officers, and some members of the public. The artwork, along with the rest of the segment of

the exhibition (which was put up in phases), was officially taken down because it represented a possible interpretation of violence against police officers and blue line. There was, however, no public forum, no opportunity for the artist to address the concerns brought forth. The other members of the exhibit were also not informed of the decision to prematurely de-install the show, and some were not afforded the opportunity to see their work installed at the airport according to the original timeline given.

As an artist who was juried into the same show by a panel of Bay Area artists and professionals, I feel a sense of concern that their decision was overridden post jurying and after opportunities for the public to view

the works prior to display. It seems as though a process was adhered to during the initial phase of acceptance and then completely disregarded once the works were exhibited at the airport. This concerns me, because it shows that those with the authority to choose, display, and remove the artworks that the public sees are operating under a structure that allows for changing the rules in the middle of the game.

If we are to be a civilized society that values freedom of speech and the assumption that all people can think for themselves, then what does this incident say about the future of such a society? Who is public art for? Whose voices matter? And whose voices get to be heard?

Americana by Eric Bui

From guitar offcuts from Santa Cruz Guitar Company, floorboards from an 1880s era mansion, to the hand railing from the second oldest hotel in New York, each piece of wood tells a story.

Thanks to unique upcycling collaborations, Ventana Surfboards & Supplies, based in Aptos, California, uses eco-friendly materials to build wooden, hollow-frame surfboards and bodysurfing handplanes. The company is an online, pop-up, and wholesale store run by dynamic duo Martijn Stiphout, surfer and craftsman, and David Dennis, a surfer and eco-impassioned businessman. In exchange for donations of wood and other materials, companies get publicity from Ventana shout outs. It’s a win-win-win for companies, surfers, and the planet.

Oak, cherry, redwood, mahogany, cedar, Douglas fir, pine, spruce, ebony, cork, you name it, Ventana Surfboards & Supplies is filled with pieces of wood suspended in the rafters, leaning against walls, piled on shelves. But this isn’t just any wood, and it’s not just any reclaimed wood either. Each piece of wood tells a story— guitar offcuts from Santa Cruz Guitar Company, floorboards from an 1880s era Mansion, handrailing from the second oldest hotel in New York still operating.

Many trees today are legally protected from harvest. “But the wood is a hell of a lot nicer than anything you can buy new right now,” explains David. Thanks to their unique reclamation collaborations, Ventana gets better quality wood, with an amazing story, for free.

The mahogany handrailing, for example, was provided by the customer, whose family used to own the old hotel. Martijn sliced the cylindrical handrail horizontally into thin circles, which were inlayed onto the fin of Ventana’s kelp forest board. The rest of the kelp board was crafted from cherry and apple wood from the customer’s own grove. The entire board, like all Ventana boards, was sealed with non-toxic, eco-responsible epoxy, either tree sap-based resin or soy-based eco-epoxy. Every one of Ventana’s boards is gold certified by the Sustainable Surf’s Ecoboard Project.

It all started at a charity photo exhibition for the Surfrider Foundation. David, who works full time as a program manager at Microsoft and does photography as a passion project on the side, was raising money for the organization by photo

chronicling surfboard building, or “shaping.” After learning to surf at nearly age 40, David used his photography to connect to the surfing community, where he met avid surfer and board builder Martijn. As he was photographing, David “realized how toxic surfboard production is,” and noticed “Martijn was doing this amazing stuff with reclaimed wood.”

Thus came about the partnership between David’s Type A personality with Martijn’s laissez-faire demeanor, jokes Martijn, with the surf as their middle ground. Their planning meetings happened at Capitola Beach, between waves in the moonlight, just two guys on surfboards who shared a love of surfing, giving back, and being responsible to the earth.

Martijn is the artist and craftsman behind Ventana. He learned reclamation at an early age. Growing up in South Africa, his family would go to the dump and return with more than they left behind. He “figured out really quick that trash was free” and it could turn into other things with the woodworking skills Martijn began honing at three years old. His father’s job had the family traveling all over the world, and along the way, Martijn acquired a love of surfing in the Netherlands

and a degree in marine biology from Monterey State University. Martijn’s surfboard designs are inspired by the woods that are on hand, as that determines what can be done, composition-wise. The wood informs their designs—that is the challenge, and beauty, of reclaimed wood.

When the two met, Martijn was already creating boards, but things weren’t picking up. They brainstormed about how to bring more value to reclaimed wood. Fortunately, reclaimed wood has a past; it tells a story. In 2014, they founded Ventana Surfboards & Supplies to grant people not just a product, but an environmentally friendly one, and a piece of history.

Ventana used their press launch to birth not just another surfboard company, but as a way to showcase what they are doing with reclaimed materials. For the months leading up to the launch, they collected glass bottles from Save Our Shores beach cleanups and turned them into soy candles with—you guessed it—wooden wicks. The candles were then sold and proceeds donated back to Save Our Shores.

“I don’t build anything, I’m not allowed to touch the tools, I do all the sales and marketing stuff,” David explains. He runs the business side of Ven-

tana, all while working full-time at Microsoft. But he doesn’t let the corporate life slog his dreams, even after 20 years at Microsoft; Instead, he utilizes Microsoft’s donation dollar and volunteer hour matching program at his photo exhibitions, where he volunteers his time supporting homelessness, conservation, and education. David also teaches classes about turning trash into value to teens at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and serves on a panel about sustainability.

In addition to the upcycling collaborations on the back-end, Ventana collaborates with artists on the front-end in multiple unique ways. “We pick an artist, and we say, ‘Take a look at what we do…We don’t want to have a lot of creative control; We love your work and what you’re doing. Create something that’s inspired by Ventana,’ ” explains David.

One notable collaboration was a project where Martijn crafted reclaimed redwood handplanes as blank, unfinished canvasses. David made a call for artists, then shipped the blank handplanes across the United States. Each artist laid their art onto the boards—using resin, paint, metal engraving inlay, wood burning, cloth—then shipped them back to Ventana to be completed. Ventana got some

very cool handplane art, and the artists were able to promote their art in new ways and connect with a different audience—the surfing community.

Ventana’s creations aren’t just the boards that take 50 to 100 hours over the course of as much as 10 weeks to complete. Because their boards can be pricey, Ventana expanded their product line to include bookmarks, tags on Ventana apparel, and Martijn’s invention, the Save a Surf box, all made from their reclaimed, story-full wood. This broadens the brand’s reach from surfing beyond, and ensures that Ventana is not “a brand that’s only accessible to the wealthy.”

Opening day, when they launched at a holiday craft fair at the Seymour Marine Discovery Center, was one of the most successful days in the company’s history. But at following events, they engaged with as little as three customers. This was discouraging, especially for Martijn, for whom Ventana is his sole source of income. He remains committed to Ventana, affirming that the key is to “have faith in the business and overcome the fear of what’s next.” David’s motto is “Worry on purpose,” because the greatest opportunities seem to strike at the most worrisome times. C

David Dennis Martijn Stiphout

Cynthia Cao

When Cynthia Cao was a young girl, her mother liked to reward her with trips to Michaels. There, she would buy stamps for her collection. It was an inexpensive way to encourage creativity—drawing and painting were her childhood hobbies when she wasn’t reading or playing outside, happily entertained with the family pets.

Though Cynthia fell in love with the freedom of artistic play, she planned her career for a different trajectory. Exposed to few professions in the art world growing up, she chose careers that were “art-adjacent” to support herself. For seven years, she worked as a school photographer. As she took drawing classes at night, the art of photography faded into the humdrum of her work.

When she told her family she was leaving her job to study painting, no one supported this pivot. “They didn’t think about art in the ways I’ve learned,” Cynthia explained. “They didn’t know its history from visiting museums and galleries... they’d think of lacquer paintings in restaurants or flea markets where artists try to sell souvenir-type paintings.”

But when Cynthia took her first intaglio class and pulled her first print, “it felt like Christmas morning.” As the sun shone through the print studio and leapt off the metal plate, “I had an overwhelming feeling that this was what I was sup -

posed to be doing.” Printmaking combined her loves—paper and ink—with a soothing process of repetition and variation; she could create books. Her choice to leave now made sense.

As Cynthia worked through her degree in pictorial arts at SJSU, she pursued internships and volunteered in spaces that expanded her curiosity.

As an artist assistant at the Institute of Contemporary Art San Jose (ICA), she discovered that the real party took place behind the scenes, during installation. “Seeing how art is being made in the gallery, how other installers were getting to use power tools and ride scissors lifts, was so interesting.” Five months before graduation, she approached the facilities manager and asked him, “Can I work for you?”

They worked together for six years, with Cynthia being the first woman to be hired to the installations team. As an art handler and preparator at ICA, she enjoyed being a conduit for other artists’ visions in gallery spaces. “It’s very collaborative, even though art technicians aren’t really out there,” she says. “The work requires artistic skill and craftsmanship, but we’re helping others showcase their work.”

The visionary work of gallery technicians animates her, as it invigorates her personal goal. In the foreseeably pandemic-free future, Cynthia

Written

cynthiacao.com sjsu.edu/thompsongallery Instagram hownowbrowncao_

by Esther Young Photography by Sannie Celeridad

Cynthia planned an “art-adjacent” career. Then, art became the centripetal force.

“The art world is so much bigger than most people think...there are many roles to be had.”

-Cynthia Cao

hopes to set up her new studio at Citadel Art Studios so that other printmaking artists can use her press and indulge in the joy of shared process. The press, gifted to her by a professor, is a conduit for community outside the art school bubble. “Come make a print with me!” she smiles and winks, “Just clean up your mess!”

Years have passed since Cynthia has established herself in the art world. She has found joy in its multiple branches—as technician, educator, and most recently, a Creative Ambassador for the city of San Jose.

As a facilitator for creativity, Cynthia is deep in the process of planning two major projects: Taste of Home and Community Table. The two projects run parallel to each other, addressing food insecurity from different perspectives.

Taste of Home, a multi-workshop series launching with Chopsticks Alley Art, will address the cultural gaps in food pantries through art: a printmaking class will spotlight food-centered stories and memories; local artists will present handson projects; art supplies will be distributed to elementary schools and libraries; and local chefs paired with students in the SJSU cooking and nutrition program will develop recipes for food pantries—culminating in Cynthia’s goal to inspire changes in food donations. Community Table will be a collaboration with SJSU and involve students across disciplines.

These Creative Ambassador projects are a convergence of all her experiences thus far. Now that she’s managing SJSU’s student art galleries where she first discovered fine art handling, she gratefully brings back the “real world” experiences her professors prepared her for. “What I want to show students here goes beyond technical things like putting a show together,” she shares. Many art students are apprehensive before graduation, but “the art world is so much bigger than most people think...there are many roles to be had.”

Cynthia’s ambition to expand the possibilities of artistic professions in young people’s imaginations goes right back to her family. When Cynthia brought her mother to Chopsticks Alley Art’s 2018 opening ceremony for Salt Stained: Home, her mother moved between the exhibits and live demonstrations, eyes wide. “She loved this fashion designer there who used a traditional Vietnamese basket technique to weave old telephone wires,” Cynthia remembers. “She had so much fun!”

Looking back, Cynthia wonders whether those behavior-rewarding stamps from years ago might have sparked her zeal for printmaking today. Either way, she has blazed her own path through the arts. With a freelance art consulting business and her own studio to call her happy place, “I’ve proven this is what I’m going to do.” C

(L to R) Kourosh Ahari , Alexis Bronte, and Alex Bretow

Monster-Free Horror Films

M MAMMOTH PICTURES

If you think about it, monsters are human nature’s dark side with flesh. The rotting corpse crawling out of your closet is your most putrid secret dragging itself into the light. The whiteeyed ghosts are your past mistakes and unresolved traumas come to haunt you. Despite their strengths, symbols are an indirect way of making a point. And some horror storytellers ignore the story’s deeper significance altogether, haphazardly tossing in gremlins and gorgons at the drop of a hat. Not so with intentional filmmakers Alex Bretow and Kourosh Ahari.

Like a deranged nurse with a scalpel, the co-owners of Mammoth Pictures choose to plunge right into the heart of things with more plausible films. To these two, the thriller, horror, and suspense genres should be more than fear tactics and fake blood— they should explore insights into humanity and ground themselves in real experiences. “For us, that makes a good thriller or horror,” Kourosh affirms. “It really deals with human internal fear rather than something monstrous or external.”

“All of our films are ‘monster’ free,” Alex verifies. That said, “A few of our films have these [shadowy] dark figures or have supernatural elements represented in other more grounded ways.”

With a number of films wading into the psychological, they’ve spanned heavy-hitting topics like postpartum depression, the Spanish flu pandemic, and heroin withdrawal. In 2018, their short film grappling with the issue of generational wrongs was backed by Tom Hanks.

Then there’s their latest film, The Night , produced by Jeffrey Allard (also the producer of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies). The story explores secrets and the kind of fear that asks, “What if this loved one or this person I’m hiding this information from finds out? Or what if I have to face them and it damages everything?” Kourosh describes. “What if this fear comes to the surface and interacts with elements and figures and characters that they face throughout the story?”

Written by Johanna Hickle Photography by Robert J Schultze

THE NIGHT IN THEATERS AND AT HOME NOW FROM IFC MIDNIGHT

Genre: Horror/Thriller/Mystery

Synopsis: An Iranian couple living in the US become trapped inside a hotel when insidious events force them to face the secrets that have come between them in a night that never ends.

Written by: Kourosh Ahari & Milad Jarmooz

Directed by: Kourosh Ahari

Produced by: Alex Bretow p.g.a., Kourosh Ahari p.g.a., Jeffrey Allard

(THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE), Cheryl Staurulakis, Armin Amiri

Executive Producer: George Rush (SORRY TO BOTHER YOU), Leo Staurulakis, Ryan Clarkson, P.K. Patel

Consulting Producer: Terry George (HOTEL RWANDA)

Starring: Shahab Hosseini (THE SALESMAN), Niousha Jafarian (HBO’s HERE AND NOW), Leah Oganyan, George Maguire (FIGHT CLUB)

Production Company: Mammoth Pictures In Association with 7Skies Entertainment, Indie Entertainment, Orama Filmworks, Leveller Media & Supernova8 Films

Distributor: IFC Midnight (US/Canada), Vertigo Releasing (UK)

GENERATIONS

Genre: Drama Length: TBD Synopsis: A tragedy at work and family secrets revealed at home provoke a doctor to discover the truth about himself and his lineage.

Starring: George Maguire (FIGHT CLUB), Dyan McBride, Cascius La Fleur, Nancy Madden, Rick Lasquette, P.K. Patel and Kathryn Howell (JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH )

Supported By: Tom Hanks

Directed by: Kourosh Ahari Produced by: Alex Bretow Executive Producers: George Maguire, Marcella Cortland, P.K. Patel and James Currie

THE SECRET OF 40

Genre: Horror/Thriller/Suspense Length: 28 min.

Synopsis: Devastated by the loss of his mother, Josh performs a ritual in an attempt to reach her beyond the grave. His pure intentions open unexpected doors as he taps into powers beyond his control.

Starring: Julian De La Celle ( BLACK-ISH ), Robert Rusler (A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2 ), Judie Aronson ( WEIRD SCIENCE ) George Maguire ( THE PURSUIT OF HAPPYNESS) and Christy St. John

Directed by: Kourosh Ahari

Produced by: Alex Bretow Status: Premiered at Cinequest Film Festival 2016

About this Film: The Secret of 40 is presented as a Barco Escape 3-Screen Cinema Experience. This film was produced in collaboration with Barco Technologies and is the first horror film ever produced in Barco Escape’s 3-Screen Cinema format. It premiered March 4th, 2016 at Cinequest Film Festival, and currently being developed into a feature length film.

The Night hits on something—because not only was it sold to IFC Midnight (distributor of genre entertainment) and released throughout North America earlier this year, but it made history as the first American-produced film to be released theatrically in Iran since the country’s revolution back in the ’70s.

The Night also got Kourosh signed by Paradigm Talent Agency and Rain Management Group as well as gained Mammoth Pictures a new head of development (the talented Alexis Bronte, former Art Director of the feature film Sounds of Silence ).

Getting to this milestone has been quite the journey—as have the circumstances that led to Kourosh and Alex’s partnership. For that story, we must rewind back to their college years.

For Kourosh, it all started at 18, when he first moved from Iran to the States. Back then, he wanted to study animation at San Jose State, but because of the high demand for classes, he minored in film, hoping to collaborate with animation students and professors until finding his way into the program. But after attending the internationally acclaimed Festival de Cannes in France and winning two awards for his short film, Malaise , Kourosh was hooked. “Just being there watching the movie with the audience and feeling that for the first time—how it captures the audience and how people were affected by it—was such a great feeling that I immediately fell in love with it, and that’s all I wanted to do!” he recalls. Animation slipped right off the radar. By the time he graduated, he’d already directed The Yellow Wallpaper , premiering at Cinequest, a feature length film adapted from Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s short story by the same title.

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, Alex’s talent burgeoned at Sonoma State University. His first film submission at his college film festival placed in third. The following year, he claimed first. Soon, he joined a student-run broadcasting class to hone his skills. “It had really no organization,” he recalls. “It was a class that students were taking because they knew it was basically free credit and they didn’t have to do any work. But they had a full television studio and a lot of equipment for filmmaking.” Alex became a student leader in the program, investing late nights on research to develop a curriculum from scratch. He also raised funds and helped recruit judges from the industry to their film festival, all while gaining entry-level gigs on productions off campus.

Then two of Alex’s films earned a spot at the Festival de Cannes—as it happens, the same year Kourosh’s film was featured. The two students hit it off, only finding out upon their return to the Bay that they lived in the same region. A partnership was born soon after.

One of the trademarks of Kourosh and Alex’s partnership is that they’re always cracking each other up. As a case in point, take Alex’s favorite behind-the-scenes memory from The Night . Because the film is in Farsi as well as English, their main actor, Shahab Hosseini, taught Alex a goofy phrase in the language. Later, between takes, Kourosh and Shahab were sharing a vulnerable heart-to-heart moment in Farsi…when Alex, not understanding the context, bounded over and blurted out his line. “All of us were just hysterical because it was so out of place—so the wrong thing to say at the moment,” Alex laughs.

Their partnership is also fueled by mutual appreciation. “One thing I have to give Alex credit for is that when he commits to something, he brings his 100 percent,” Kourosh says. “He goes into it with heart and such passion.”

Alex is quick to return the compliment. “[Kourosh is] very humble in not talking about how he graduated at the top of his class and received the Excellence in Film Directing Award,” he says. “But Kourosh is very much like that. He’s very humble, but he’s incredibly talented and incredibly hardworking…he inspires me to work harder and he inspires a lot of people around him to work harder and to give their best.”

The friends and partners invite others to join in their collaborative spirit with an annual screenplay competition to support undiscovered talent. Why? Because just like all those horror movie teens at the cabin in the woods, original screenplays don’t often get the chance to see the light of day. That said, these submissions must embody Mammoth Picture values. “Slashers, campy horror, and screenplays leaning too heavily on scare value will have a significantly lower chance of winning,” their website specifies. In other words, they aren’t interested in stories packed with so many jump scares that the film becomes one long, demented game of peekaboo.

As the friends and partners of Mammoth Pictures continue to favor inner demons over fiery hellhounds, their future films are sure to be as insightful as they are intimidating. Whatever comes next will be worth braving the theater for. C

“A few of our films have these [shadowy] dark figures or have supernatural elements represented in other more grounded ways.”

-Alex Bretow

brainsoiled.com pagesstacked.bigcartel.com Instagram diggingsoundcollect keptabsorbed

I f you truly want to get to know someone, ask them about their favorite music.

Take a stroll through their Spotify playlists, listen to the burned CDs from their teenage years or have them share about their most memorable concert experience. Nothing bottles up our memories, then vividly retells our joys and fears and loves and losses, quite like the sounds that lived through those moments with us.

With Digging Sound Collect, photographer Abraham Menor honors that very idea, utilizing his masterful eye for the moment to elevate the seemingly mundane exercise of collecting records into a celebration of culture and heritage. The series, which now spans two volumes, welcomes viewers into the passionate world (and, in most cases, homes) of vinyl collectors.

“I’m there to listen to them,” shares Menor when describing his process. “What I’m trying to do is get them to feel comfortable, not only with sharing their story but with being in the moment where I can capture it through photography.”

What started as casual snaps of close friends extended to documenting collectors from Hawaii, St. Louis, and even South Africa, where Menor captured a man named Solomon who appears ready to be swallowed up by the stacks of records looming directly behind him in a six-story vintage shop in Johannesburg.

As for his craft, Menor shares that his journey with film began on San Jose’s East Side, where his love for graffiti served as his entry point to shooting.

“If you’re familiar with graffiti culture, when you did

pieces or if you were going around looking at other pieces, pictures were the way you collected [them],” he shares. “It was like collecting baseball cards.”

Though he began shooting purely to document, he fell in love with the process, thanks to a film photography course at De Anza College. The street photography zine Hamburger Eyes proved a revelation when he found a copy at the now-defunct Alameda Archives, its raw black and white photos much more relatable than the landscape books he was finding at the library. Yet even as he continued to document and refine his approach, he admits that he was still hesitant to call himself a photographer.

A 2003 trip to London changed that. His time in the UK happened to coincide with a series of worldwide protests

Written by Brandon Roos Photography by Mark Chua

Abraham Menor

With Digging Sound Collect, photographer Abraham Menor utilizes his masterful eye for the moment to elevate the seemingly mundane exercise of collecting records into a celebration of culture and heritage.

in opposition to the pending Iraq War. He captured the massive demonstration, shooting so much film that he had to ask strangers for more cash to buy extra rolls. When he showed his friends the results, they were amazed.

“I come from an old school background,” he explains. “You’ve got to put in the work and gain the notoriety and respect from those who came before.” Armed with the validation he’d long been looking for, he finally stamped himself a photographer.

His studies in sociology first educated him about issues of social justice. It’s a topic that continues to be a throughline for much of his visual work. Last year, he released “San Jose Uprising,” which provided an up-close look at San Jose’s summer 2020 protests in the wake of the police killings of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor.

Compared to his work documenting protest, Digging Sound Collect is much more subtle, with his subjects proudly displaying their most treasured finds. The series also works to show the diversity of the record digging community. While San Jose’s native son Peanut Butter Wolf may be casually looking back at the camera in front of a wall full of vinyl, Melissa Dueñas, co-founder of the weekly radio show Lowrider Sundays, is seen sorting through a small collection of prized LPs in record cubes near her bed while a 45 sets the midday soundtrack.

“I was intentional not to say I want the biggest record collectors,” he points out, stressing that the series is more about capturing a passion for music than displaying the breadth of someone’s collection. “I don’t care if you’ve only got a crate or if you’ve got ten thousand [records].” To him, a respect

for the tradition and an appreciation for the music they collect is all someone needs to qualify.

While COVID paused his initial volume two timeline, forcing him to scrap planned trips to Washington DC, Chicago, and the Philippines, he was able to keep shooting in a limited capacity with those who were okay with him filming as he took all proper precautions. He was finally able to release his follow-up in early 2021.

As he writes in the foreword to his latest volume, “I don’t know how many records I listened to and how many new discoveries have been added to my own collection or that are permanently engrained in the playlist in my head, but I do know that I did my best to share what I was able to capture through my camera.” C

“I’m there to listen to them. What I’m trying to do is get them to feel comfortable not only with sharing their story but be in the moment where

I can capture it through photography.”

–Abraham Menor

Visual Artist Jackelin Solorio

Jackelin Solorio

Jackelin Solorio is an agent of visual language. Each photo, each ceramic, each video performance that emerge from her studio are a question and a dare.

Come closer. Try not to look away. Be confronted, be comforted, hold the question that has arisen between two bodies.

Artists are revered for their emotional vulnerability. Solorio takes it a step further as her chapters evolve from form to form: the outpour of feeling into a journal instigates a ceramic that holds its weight; the finished ceramic asks to be casted into a story; the performance ties all the messages together. By working in different dimensions, Solorio layers the weaknesses of one medium under the strengths of another.

In 2020, Solorio published a performance titled Fruit of Knowledge . In the video, she stands alone in a cage. Naked and blindfolded by choice, she has invited her own body to join her mind in exploring a question together: What if Eve’s choice to eat the fruit was favorable? Above the cage hangs an apple—the symbol of freedom, awareness. At the sixth hour of performance, Solorio reaches up and eats of the forbidden fruit.

Written by Esther Young Photography by Peter Salcido

jackelinsolorio6.wixsite.com/creations Instagram clay_mundo

What an audience perceives can spark a beautiful exchange of prompt and perception. And yet, what the audience rarely sees is the labor for the art to exist. For her seven-minute video, Solorio received three days of migraines from dehydration and exhaustion. Yet, when the time comes to channel another question through performance, Solorio will gladly do it again. “I don’t feel protected while doing my work,” she shares. “I get stronger from doing it.”

She is driven by the intrigue of self-discovery. Strength grows through the pain of shedding the social constructs pressed upon us since birth. In another performance created during the pandemic, Perpetual Cycle , Solorio filmed herself again. The video shows her running—which, true to life, is a practice she keeps six days of the week. The following scene shows her eating, but chewing away at excessive amounts of food. Then, a toilet: Jackelin heaves and

“The Cage, Eve, and the Apple” Etching on ceramic slab, 6.5”x11”

“Jesus(a) Christ(a)” Etching on proceliam, 18”x7.5”

“Snake with Crown” Etching on ceramic slab, 8”x7”

“Fruit of Knowledge cage” Ceramic cage, 66”x26”

“Female Vessel 2” Ceramic, 5”x11”

“No Bra No Problem” Ceramic bra used in performance video

“The POPE(A)”

vomits orange liquid into the bowl. At long last, she stands, sucks in her stomach and smiles at the mirror.

The idea for this performance came during a run: “I asked myself, ‘Why am I running so much? Am I addicted to it?’ ” After all, when she started running at 13, her goal had been to lose weight, pressured by unrealistic expectations. Though her daily run evolved into a life-giving ritual, she continues to hold herself accountable through her art. “This came from a real space,” Solorio emphasizes. “I really did binge. It was hard, but necessary.”

Solorio challenges the male gaze and the patriarchal arm of religion in her physical art forms as well. The body, bare under the gaze of other eyes, speaks of attraction as much as it does repulsion. Sculptures of clay and human hair, such as Solorio’s ceramic vagina collection, are as wondrous as they are shocking. In a recent series, a photo documentation of The Last Supper creates an alternate history: The female body, recast as the pope or as Jesus Christ herself, reminds us all to ask why. Why are things the way they are, and what keeps them that way? “I researched,” Solorio says. “I found that a woman could be pope, but the current pope needs to declare it. And no one will go against tradition.”

What once protected now provokes. Solorio was about six or seven, living with her grandmother in Mexico, when she was first punished by gender tradition. Her grandmother chastised her for playing on the soccer field—a place for boys and men, not girls— and sent her to her room. There, she kneeled and prayed to the Virgin Mary and Jesus while her grandmother disciplined her. “She left some welts. Then I had to go to catechism school.” Solorio went, but she purposefully donned a pair of booty shorts that revealed the marks.

Before arriving fully in her role as artist, Solorio taught preschool for 10 years and served as a preschool director for five. Currently, she is a caregiver of three girls under five years old. “I give it my all. Being around children so much, you can become like them,” she laughs. “I lack a social filter sometimes; I don’t want to be contained. I want to be childlike and free.”

The common threads of playfulness and honesty are woven through all her endeavors, especially her artmaking. Solorio rejects a strictly linear approach to self-reflection. “I’m always connecting to my old self,” she says. “We’re all intertwined.” The first version of herself, the dreamer, holds hands with the pessimist born in hindsight. “My very first love was murdered, and I was trying to find this lost love,” she shares. “Looking into the past...I grew up very poor. With not a lot of great male figures in my life. You start thinking about all the bad things, you know?”

But she has also opened herself to hope, which frames her defiant spirit. “I’m in a good state of life where I know myself,” she smiles, “And I will not stay quiet now.” C

“I lack a social filter sometimes; I don’t want to be contained. I want to be childlike and free.”

–Jackelin Solorio

“The Metaphor” performance video

SJSU PHOTO 123 SJSU PHOTO 123

San JoSe State UniverSity’S photo illUStration coUrSe , taught by Professor Jonathan Fung, includes a fashion editorial photography assignment. The assignment introduces students to editorial techniques using digital and film cameras, studio and location lighting, and digital image processing to create a strong mood and tone when showcasing clothing and accessories. Students learn about the fashion industry and styles from top fashion photographers, makeup and hair artists, and stylists.

Due to COVID-19 restrictions, this course was taught online during the spring 2021 semester. Professor Fung challenged his students to take risks and be creative with their fashion assignment. Students stepped out of their comfort zones while adhering to safety protocols and physical distancing. Professional cameras were replaced with the students’ own equipment, studios were makeshift home studios and backyards, and friends and family members (even students) became models.

This was a great opportunity for SJSU students to have their fashion editorial image published in Content Magazine. Not only did they learn how to become better professionals and deliver quality work on a deadline, they found their resilience as artists to create despite (or in response to) challenging life circumstances.

Written by Jonathan Fung

Pho tographers

1 Matt Langford is a model and fashion photographer based in Los Angeles who works with film and digital. He wants to further develop his film photography skills as he approaches graduation in the fall of 2021. Instagram: mjh.langford

2 Armando Austin is a Bay Area photographer, stylist, and visual designer. His work explores multiple gender identities through high fashion photography. Instagram: iiits_a_rap

3 Yujung Lee is a graphic designer and illustrator. Her personal style emanates simplicity and minimalism and expresses that less is more. Linkedin: yujunglee4545

4 Yvonne Bellido works in the Bay Area and has experience in digital and film photography. She will graduate in the fall of ’21 with a BFA in film and photography. She hopes to pursue a career in fashion photography. Instagram: yvonnebellido

5 Daren Chou is a contemporary photographer who combines his artistic skill set with a sense of humor, allowing him to express contemporary issues through innovative methods. Instagram: daren_zyr13

6 Alyssa Karlin is a Bay Area–based photographer. She is currently pursuing a BFA in photography at SJSU with plans to graduate in 2022. Instagram: karlin.photos

7 Zack (Biu) Lam is a model and photographer in the Bay Area. He works in portraiture, videography, and commercial art. He will graduate in the fall of 2021. Instagram: Zackl.b

8 Brianna Felix is a photography student at SJSU. They are an LGBTQ+ and POC photographer who represents their communities in their photos. Instagram: goddess.pictures

9 Willow Ransom is a California-based fashion photographer who recently graduated from San Jose State University with a BFA in photography. Instagram: willowransom.photography

10 Haleigh Bei will graduate in the fall of ’21 with a BFA in photography. She has found her passion in sports photography and will pursue a career in this field. Instagram: bei_photography_

11 Eilaria Maryousef is a senior at SJSU who applies a mixture of visual and fine arts in her work that showcases versatility and variety. She is pursuing a degree in graphic design. Instagram: eilariam

12 Edgar Mendoza is an artist who recently graduated from SJSU with a degree in art design studies. Instagram: emendxza

13 Mikayla Crisafulli is a junior at San Jose State studying graphic design. She combines photography with graphic design to create illustrations. Instagram: m_c_graphicdesign

14 LJ Maravillas is an artist works in multiple digital mediums such as photography, painting, 3D modeling, and animation. He is majoring in graphic design. Instagram: ljmarvelous

15 Ivete Pereira is a Brazilian graphic design student with a minimalistic approach. Ivete believes that design needs to focus on what is essential. Instagram: iivetepereira

16 Reyn Padilla is a graphic designer and illustrator from the Bay Area who graduated from SJSU in Spring 2021. Instagram: rendilla

17 Shannon Gonzalez is a Bay Area–based artist whose work focuses on their personal headspace. Since 2018, they have concentrated on the concept of identity. Instagram: classicallyunusual

18 Hang Huynh is a contemporary artist who creates sculptures and oil paintings. She is pursuing a BFA degree in spatial art with a minor in photography. Instagram: hang_k_huynh

EDMUNDS POLINA

after the ice

P

Written by Johanna Hickle Photography by Daniel Garcia Makeup by Moni Sebestyen of Adorn Salon Hair styling by Duran for Umbrella Salon Wardrobe styling by Grace Martinez Clothing & accessories from AU LA LA DESIGN aulala.design bleav.com Social media bleavpodcasts

I

magine you’re stepping through the cerulean and sapphire entry of the Iceberg Skating Palace at the 2014 Sochi Olympics. By the time you’ve wandered the massive arena long enough to locate your seat, a Latin song floods the air and a willowy American’s skates have stirred to life. As she flits across the rink with a triple Lutz/triple toe loop combination and a double Axel, you can’t help but admire her airy affinity with the ice.

You’ve just met the Iron Butterfly, the ninthplaced Olympian and two-time US national silver medalist, Polina Edmunds. And while Edmunds’ nickname fits the weightless way she maneuvers across ice, there’s more to it than that.

Did you know that behind the cloak of the cocoon, caterpillars dissolve their bodies into a soup before reorganizing and reassembling themselves into a new creature? Though Edmunds’ transformation might not have called for such drastic measures, she’s overcome her own fair share of uncomfortable transitions and growing pains over the years.

Take for example the crippling mental block she faced in middle school, which left her inca-

pable of performing jumps. “My coaches were at such a loss,” Edmunds recalls of her six-month burnout. “They tried yelling at me. They tried crying with me. They tried so many different tactics to get me to do it. And I just couldn’t.”

Part of the problem was Edmunds’ longing for even a taste of normalcy. The 5am practices, after-school practices, and early bedtimes didn’t allow for much of that. But when Edmunds’ friends planned a Jamba Juice and salon trip on the last day of seventh grade, Edmunds’ mom (also one of her coaches) had an idea. She promised her daughter the day off if she could nail her jumps.

“Every time I got butterflies in my stomach, I thought about Jamba Juice,” Edmunds smiles. “That was the one word that kept replaying and replaying in my mind.” After her special girls’ day, Edmunds felt once again ready to face the rink. “It was my favorite day ever, but I came home, and I kind of had that reset where I was like, ‘That was fun. But skating makes me special—I’m going to go back.’ ”

Puberty was another rocky transition. Edmunds’ new physique meant she had to adjust to a different body balance, readjusting her poise

“They tried yelling at me. They tried crying with me. They tried so many different tactics to get me to do it. And I just couldn’t.”

–Polina Edmunds

to new proportions and relearning the muscle memory of moves. Her metabolism changed too. As a youngster, Edmunds’s big appetite was a source of pride. While other skaters religiously watched what they ate, she could polish off a big meal right before taking on the rink (something that always gained her more than a few odd looks from her competitors).

She laughs, recalling her indignation when coach David Glynn and her mom suggested she cut back on the milkshakes and pizza slices. “Eating everything you want and still being a toothpick—that was the best!” she asserts. “And all of a sudden, knowing that that’s not the case anymore and that I need to pay attention, I struggled with fully identifying with that.” It took her a whole two years to finally respect her body’s new limits.

Most recently, Edmunds has faced another pivotal transition. After rinks closed for months during the pandemic and consistent practice was no longer an option, she made the decision to retire from competitive skating. It can’t be easy to step away from the only way of life you’ve ever known.

It was at 20 months of age that Edmunds’ mom first plopped her into skates. It was at four she began lessons. By the ripe age of five, she earned the lead role in a skating performance as the audacious Pippi Longstocking. “My mom put pipe cleaners in my hair, braided them, spray-painted them orange,” she recalls. Edmunds has fond memories of her dad encouraging her with gifts. “Whenever I won first place when I was growing up, my dad would take me to Toys R Us, and I would get to pick out a doll…I ended up having like 20 Cabbage Patch kids!”

For Edmunds, the rink echoes with countless memories and thousands of hours of hard work. It has been the site of adrenaline-charged performances, new friends, and daring feats. To say it contains a large chunk of her identity is an understatement. “It was really emotional,” Edmunds told a reporter at NBC Sports about deciding whether or not to retire. “Every time I talked about it, I would start to cry, just because I couldn’t fathom the idea of stopping.”

But here’s the thing about stories—one chapter must end before the next can start.

One of the first transitions Edmunds made in retirement was taking the sudden lack of structure and finding a new rhythm. In less than a week of her big announcement, she started her own podcast, Bleav in Figure Skating. After gaining confidence and credibility by sharing her own journey across several episodes, she began interviewing big names like gold medal Olympians Kristi Yamaguchi and Brian Boitano. With hopes of one day becoming a sportscaster, it’s a fantastic first step for her future.

As she switches from interviewee to interviewer, Edmunds hopes she can enrich the interactions between media and athletes. “[As a skater,] I found that whenever I did the typical interview with NBC or wherever, the questions were pretty much the same and there wasn’t a whole lot of depth to the conversation…as athletes, we kind of all get the same questions.”

To counteract this, she creates a safe space for her guests by letting them know she can relate. “I try to include my own personal experiences and make it conversational,” she says. “And it ends up honestly feeling a lot like a therapy session…I need to start calling it Therapy With Polina!”

She also gets specific, focusing on niche angles rather than overarching careers, like discussing Gracie Gold’s struggle to regain skills and consistency in the rink after her hiatus. Or reflecting on eating disorders with Rachael Flatt, who studied the subject at Stanford after watching many athletic peers fall victim. Beyond the podcast, Edmunds has started hosting seminars for young skaters about mental training, nutrition, and other key topics regarding the sport.

Edmunds’ graceful shift from one sphere to the next carries the same fluidity as her movements across ice. It’s been a year since her retirement, and this new season looks good on her. She’s done away with her long locks for a stylish, new haircut. She’s shed the braces of her youth and gained a few healthy pounds that compliment her face and figure. The winged pendent of her necklace clinches it—the Iron Butterfly is alive and well. C

Most recently, Edmunds has faced another pivotal transition . After rinks closed for months during the pandemic and consistent practice was no longer an option, she decided to retire from competitive skating.

PRINCE ALI

How does a professional dancer survive a global pandemic?

We’ve seen the lockdown footage of folks in urban areas dancing on apartment balconies—a hopeful sign of life and defiance during COVID.

Yet, how does a professional dancer survive a global pandemic?

It’s not easy. For Alex “Prince Ali” Flores, San Jose native and veteran street dancer and instructor, the pandemic is one more challenge in a life in which one has chosen the path of art and rarely looks back. “I’m just blessed to be in the situation I’m in right now,” he says. That situation for many of us is in front of a computer running Zoom. He’s assembled what amounts to a studio dancefloor in an apartment bedroom, equipped with wide-angle cameras so he can dance, teach, and break down the technique of his students. It’s a strange environment for popping—Flores’s dance style of choice for over 15 years—a street style that has a history of battle culture, competition, and community.

“The style that I do is not the most popular,” says Flores. “I don’t advertise myself as this hip-hop-studio, commercial dancer. I do something that’s a very old-school, traditional style of street dance. I had to bounce back and get creative.”

Getting creative is at the heart of popping, which took shape here on the West Coast in the Oakland communities of the 1960s, where local kids developed a style called boogaloo. “It

started in black communities in Oakland around the Civil Rights Movement. These kids were essentially creating this dance, characterized by a lot of soul stepping, stops, and animated-type movements. It all started in Oakland with boogaloo,” says Flores.

The soundtrack for boogaloo was often live funk bands, or James Brown on vinyl, blasting out of driveways and talent shows and echoing in local gyms. Middle and high school mascots would even face off in boogaloo dance battles for school pride and street cred. As the music got faster into the 1970s and more digital in the 80s, the dancing changed with it. In the mass-market sense, we now know it as “breakdancing” or “hip-hop” dance, yet purists know that each genre has its own style, moves, aesthetic, and aficionados. For Flores, popping was his first love.

“Popping is its own style, a beautiful style,” he says.

Growing up in a close-knit Mexican family in East San Jose, Flores was a shy kid whose father loved fishing and the outdoors and encouraged his son to become a public service officer and serve the community. A cousin who would break and pop at raves turned Flores on to street dance, and by high school, he had found his calling and an alternate way to serve the community.

“I was always the quiet kid, and I didn’t really

Written by Kevin Marks

Photography by Leopoldo Macaya

princealifreez.com Instagram princealifreez

have a voice in school,” says Flores. “I was always the wallflower in the back. I made this conscious choice. I’m going to do this. This is the thing I’m going to focus my energy on.”

Popping provided a focus, a passion, and a way to navigate adolescence and avoid gang culture in the neighborhood. He befriended local dancers Aiko Shirakawa and San Jose legend Spacewalker, who mentored him and critiqued his moves. It was urban folk art happening in the moment.

“There really was no school for popping. The way we learned was by being around people. It was very organic,” says Flores.

As he grew older, he continued to learn from the most established Bay Area dance crews, such as Playboyz Inc and Renegade Rockers, until a hallelujah moment arrived with an offer from Bobby and Damone from Future Arts, who offered him a salary equal to his day job to teach dance. He jumped at the chance.

He continued to work on his craft, teach, and compete until winning his first world title for popping in 2019 at the Freestyle Session World Finals in San Diego, a seminal moment for his career and his art.

The arts in general, and street dance in particular, are in a curious position in 2021. Superstar-sponsored, mass-market dance shows are reintroducing wide swaths of the population to dance and choreography, yet perhaps missing

the point when it comes to freestyle and street dance, which is more immediate and of-the-moment, like jazz and hip-hop. For Flores, who has served as a judge and showcase artist for shows like World of Dance, he sees the world turning on to dance, but also tries to stay true to the form, even as street dance in general evolves and emerges.

While acknowledging that the competitive aspect of popping and street dance will always be a part of the form, Flores imagines a focus for street dance in the post-pandemic landscape that leans more toward helping one another through art, instead of trying to prove who’s best. He sees the city of San Jose and its communities as part of that equation.

“If we can have some sort of facility where artists can go and get paid their worth, that would be amazing,” says Flores.

Among his many dance education offerings, Flores teaches an intensive dance boot camp called “The Renegade Way,” which seems to describe the ethos one must have to pursue a life in street dance. For Alex Flores, his smile is disarming and his demeanor is warm and friendly, but when it comes to dance, his determination is evident.

“I’ll never stop dancing,” he says. C

“I don’t advertise myself as this hip-hop-studio, commercial dancer. I do something that’s a very old-school, traditional style of street dance.”

–Alex “Prince Ali” Flores

ented, but I also see enough room for art appreciation,” said Lacin. “I would love to see more art events—performing arts, festivals, dance—here in the Bay Area and San Jose, as well as more support for artists and greater creative community.” In 2018, Lacin founded Magnetic Pole Fit, a community-oriented pole, dance, and fitness studio with a mission to create a safe space for members to express themselves freely in a nonjudgmental, supportive, and motivational environment. But it wasn’t an easy start for her. “When I first opened the doors of Magnetic Pole Fit, I knew very few people in San Jose. I had no network, so I had to start from scratch,” recalled Lacin. “For the first two months, almost no

LACIN KELES

Every entrepreneur knows the value of strength, flexibility, and resilience, but it’s rare to meet someone who embodies these values both mentally and physically the way Lacin Keles does. Lacin was born in Turkey near the Black Sea, where she began her dance training and earned a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. She later lived and traveled across different countries from Russia to Spain, training in various dance styles before she found herself in San Jose after her husband got a job offer. Since then, Lacin has opened her own business, is about to graduate with a Master of Fine Arts in dance-creative practice and is now forming her own dance company.

After first moving to San Jose, Lacin realized more people were creating apps than art. “Silicon Valley is very tech-ori-

magneticpolefit.com lacinkelesmovement.com Instagram lacinthemover

Written by Michelle Runde Photography by Milan Loiacono

one came to my classes. I was dancing by myself in the studio.” After working on getting more visibility though her own marketing, more people came. “Eventually, the most amazing and beautiful individuals started to fill the studio, and our community slowly grew,” said Lacin. “People saw how pole dancing changed their life. Students were connecting not only with me and one another, but they were also making connections within their bodies.”

A consistent challenge Lacin has faced are preconceptions people have about pole dancing, starting with assuming all types of pole dancing are the same. “Pole sports, pole fitness, pole dancing, pole artistry, and more,” Lacin explained, “for me, pole dance is a dance genre, it is an artistic workout. People may have their opinions about what they think pole dancing is, but for me, it is a powerful form of artist expression that celebrates our bodies,

strength, and women’s sexuality.” Lacin has seen the benefits this can have for women who are willing to try, both for their bodies and their minds: “I see many beginners coming to pole dancing classes thinking that they aren’t strong enough or flexible enough for pole dancing, or they think they don’t have the right body for pole dancing, or they think that they must have a certain dance or gymnastics background. However, it’s quite the opposite,” said Lacin. “Through pole dancing we learn to love our bodies and be proud of our imperfections and be confident in our feminine identities and sexuality. As we practice, we build our strength, flexibility, increase our mobility and awareness. I usually say that I’m not doing pole dancing because I’m strong, I’m strong because I’m doing pole dancing.”

As with so many small businesses, Magnetic Pole Fit was forced to shut its doors in March 2020 due to COVID-19, and later that year the studio closed permanently, though Lacin still hosts virtual and private lessons. Although it was an emotionally difficult decision to close, Lacin seized the opportunity to shift her creative energy into a life-long passion project. “I’m currently working on establishing Lacin Keles Movement, my dance company, this year,” said Lacin. The company’s mission is to empower women, cultivate artistry in all ages, and inspire the audience to embrace their voice and full potential.

As part of her master’s thesis, Lacin will debut a duet with fellow Magnetic Pole Fit community member Amanda Mendoza in June at LeFevre Theatre of Saint Mary’s College. Lacin explained the performance’s message: “There are many challenges we women face in life every day where

we’re still living in a culture of [masculinity] and a male dominated world. At work, at school, at home, on the streets, there is violence, abuse, sexual harassment, discrimination, judgment, rape, murder, and more. Through dance and movement, I aim to address our collective traumas as women and the challenges we face and the importance of gender equality and women’s rights.”

Lacin’s goal is to empower women and to inspire her audience to embrace a world where women are free to express their feminine and sexual identities. Lacin is also working on a solo dance film highlighting the duality of women living their sexuality freely, while suppressing it because of social oppression, culture, religion, and fear of violence. Although Lacin Keles Movement is starting small, there is no doubt Lacin will soon have an eager audience who’s as passionate about her mission as she is. C

Rapper Chinedu Emeahara, aka Chine Slender

Written by Brandon Roos Photography by Leopoldo Macaya

soundcloud.com/sjhnic

Instagram chineslender

When you first hear “CVNT KALL ME BRO,” the sheer force of the two-minute onslaught feels like the sonic equivalent of running into a brick wall.

There’s so much to process in an instant. If you’re not first floored by the peaking, pounding bass and delicate bells of the jackhammer beat, then the screamed opening lines certainly snatch your full attention. A few seconds later, you realize bewilderment is exactly the reaction rapper Chine Slender (real name Chinedu Emeahara) is hoping for, because four bars into the song, it backspins right back to the top, a built-in re-load.

“The angst was high,” he recalls of the night that set the tone for recording the song. “My homie was definitely influencing me to just scream my lungs out. I was feeling anxious, energized, and rageful, ready to pretty much attack— not someone, but attack life in a way, I guess.”

Energy is a key part of Chine Slender’s sonic signature. After being mesmerized by the first mosh pit he ever saw at a backyard metal show in his teens, he now urges fans to open their own pit once things hit a fever pitch. His wide range of influences, which draws as much inspiration from the SoundCloud rap of the late XXXTentacion as contemporary metal giants System of a Down, explains why the response he hopes for is rooted more in rock than rap.

While his heavier moments loom large on Worlds Away From Limbo 97 , he also presents a new side of himself on the 7-song set, released this past January. The more melodic rapping on his first solo EP seems to draw inspiration from the contemplative lyricism normally found in emo and alternative. On the brooding “Worldz Away,” where he’s accompanied by a spare guitar and a slowly pulsing 808 kick, he raps “Maybe I’m a curse / or a cancer, where my stars is,” his dark contemplation drawing a parallel with the work of Canadian DIY rapper Golden BSP or the late Lil Peep.

If the project feels oddly eclectic, that’s because Chine’s a good snapshot of hip-hop’s zeitgeist. It’s a genre in transition, where the pop success of Drake has brought melody more fully into lyrical delivery, and the rise of new age stars like Lil Uzi Vert has brought a new emo introspection to a musical style that has never been huge on sharing its feelings.

“I figure that a lot of people—and me especially—deal with the anxiety that uncertainty brings,” explains the 23-year-old when speaking on the title of his album (the number 97 alludes to the year he was born). “[The title is] the fact that you’re worlds away from your uncertainty. I feel like the project itself had a lot to do with me coming into who I [am].”

That transition was partly aided by psychedelic experiences, a dynamic that plays heavily into the visual of his video for “Down.” Such experiences gave him the space to sit more comfortably with what he labels his “demons,” which led to better recognizing and accepting the balance inherent in life—light existing with darkness, joy sitting alongside pain. “It definitely has influenced a lot of the way I think—the music that I make and the sound I go for as well,” he shares.

Though Chine marks 2016 as the official beginning of his music career, 2018 was the watershed year for his career thus far, with songs like “Get It” and “Lane Switch” racking up tens of thousands of plays on SoundCloud. That notoriety led to shows throughout the Bay Area and even performances in LA and Reno. In 2019, he released Take Off , a collaborative EP with rapper Lo-So and producer JR Beatz.

His musical momentum was halted in the fall of 2019, when he moved to Virginia to attend Norfolk State University. At the urging of a

friend, he auditioned for the school’s homecoming concert, and impressed the judges enough to earn a spot opening for Lil Durk in front of the whole school, a moment that proved to be his East Coast breakthrough.

That rise didn’t come without a little culture shock. “Some of them didn’t know what to do because they never felt it—they didn’t know what a mosh pit was,” he explains. He didn’t sweat it, chalking up the experience to simply working out kinks in the crowd. “Eventually, after my second show out there, I was getting the mosh pit ready. Now they knew how to rage.”

Since returning to San Jose in the wake of COVID lockdowns, there haven’t been many chances to connect with audiences back in his hometown—with one notable exception. As part of a Martha Street Art Night, he summoned a mosh pit when debuting “CVNT KALL ME BRO +.” In the spirit of social distance and in a nod to his punk spirit, he did so on top of a van. C

“The angst was high. My homie was definitely influencing me to just scream my lungs out. I was feeling anxious, energized, and rageful.”

–Chine Slander

Every weekend, Row takes to the Bay Area’s hip-hop airwaves on 106 KMEL radio. While her restless soul says there’s plenty more to come, she’s already living proof that dreams come true.

Brandon Roos

by Stan Olszewski

On-Air Radio Personalit y Rowena Dayanghirang

Row admits that Drake’s been causing problems at her day job.

“That was something I had to compromise on with HR—he was scaring people,” she shares, referring to the life-size cardboard cutout of the rapper that sits in her office. “I had to move him somewhere else.”

As for the symbolism, Row (full name Rowena Dayanghirang) says the cutout is a way to maintain her identity within a corporate setting. “When you think of the type of person who works at a law firm or does what I do, you don’t exactly think of a minority.” She takes pride in that. “I’m a female. I’m Asian. I love hip-hop music. I’m ratchet. That’s my personality, but don’t get it twisted, because I’m smart and I know what I’m doing.”

It’s that self-confidence, paired with a restless work ethic, that’s fueled her success in the two worlds she occupies. She may be a corporate paralegal during the week, but on weekends, she’s engaging with listeners as an on-air talent for 106 KMEL, the Bay Area’s hip-hop station. She’s a homegrown success story, rising from her beginnings in college radio to the region’s commercial airwaves.

She recalls her first brush with radio in high school, when Wild 94.9 welcomed her and her ASB classmates on-air to announce the top seven songs of the day. While the thrill of being on-air stuck with her, Row admits that radio was not on her radar during her first few years studying at San Jose State. “I didn’t even know that they had a college radio station,” she admits, “But when I learned that, I [thought] ‘Maybe this is my chance on how to get into it.’ ”

She debuted on-air in the summer of 2010 and remained with KSJS until 2014. Her passion for radio kept her involved with the station even after graduating, but she eventually grew complacent. Once she secured an internship in the Fall of 2013 with KMEL, the station she grew up listening to, she knew she needed to make a good impression.

“To be honest, I didn’t know how I was going to get on the radio, but I felt like I was definitely on track. At least I was in the building, was rubbing elbows with the right people,” recalls Row. When she had a chance to get on the mic at a street team event in front of morning jock Sana G, she leaned on her experience as her high school’s events coordinator to address the crowd with confidence.

That moment paid off out of the blue on Friday, February 7, 2014, when she received a call from Sana G herself. She wanted Row to sit in on Monday’s morning show broadcast, to dish on celebrity gossip. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect: Row’s final KSJS broadcast was February 9. On Valentine’s Day, her boss said he wanted to put her on-air. She landed her first broadcast on April 26, her mother’s birthday.

“If it were up to me, I would do radio fulltime,” she admits. “But to do it full-time, it’s just a matter of somebody leaving or getting fired. The turnover in radio, or entertainment period, is very few and far between. That’s my passion, but I need the health insurance. Seeing how I’m a two-time cancer survivor, that’s not something I can compromise.” She says that to maintain a close eye on her recovery, Row gets a yearly PET scan, so health insurance is a must.

Row was dealt her first cancer scare when she was only 12. After noticing a lump on her neck, she was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. At the time, she was terrified she’d lose all her hair, yet miraculously kept most of it after treatment, and after a semester away from school, she returned to her classmates. At 19, she felt a familiar lump on the other side of her neck. This second spell sidelined her from San Jose State for a year, and she spent a month at Stanford Hospital at the height of her treatment, quarantined and tasked with creative ways to pass the time. When she recalls those experiences, she remembers just how much music played in her recovery. “A big thing for me was music,” she says. “ ‘Fall in Love’ by Slum Village and ‘Time: The Donut of the Heart’ by J Dilla were the two songs I remember listening to on repeat while I was going through treatment.”

Not only is she a cancer survivor, but a rare Filipina in radio. As such, she shares about messages on social media from people thanking her for representing the culture. But her eyes are still set on so much more. In time, she’d like to conquer New York City, radio’s top market, following in the footsteps of inspirations like Sway and Angie Martinez.

“I’ve learned to appreciate the journey,” she says. “I have yet to hit my prime in commercial radio. I know I still have a long way to go, but it keeps me excited, because I know the best has yet to come.” C

“I have yet to hit my prime in commercial radio. I know I still have a long way to go, but it keeps me excited because I know the best has yet to come.”

-Row

Written by Brandon Roos Photography by Sannie Celeridad

aptobler.com Instagram ap.tobler

With music as a creative means to normalize her struggles, AP Tobler’s vulnerable art takes cues from the grunge age—and has already reached fans worldwide.

IT STARTED FROM AN URGE TO HIT PEOPLE. “I wanted to do something active, and I was a bit of a violent kid, so I asked my mom if I could do karate,” starts Annapurna “AP” Toblerwhen asked how she first got involved with music. At the ripe age of eight, music didn’t appear on her radar until after her mom shot down her martial arts dreams, afraid Tobler would get hurt. A hopeful alternative hit her out of the blue.

“I woke up and just knew I wanted to play the drums,” she recalls. Soon after, her mother found out San Jose’s School of Rock, an innovative music school that utilizes rock as a framework for music instruction, was offering an open house. That first visit turned out to be a transformative experience once she sat at the kit.

“I was jamming with two instructors [and] was like, ‘OK, yes. This is it,’ ” says Tobler. “It was an awakening for me. It ended up getting me my fit for hitting things, which was a good bonus.”

She soon excelled. At the age of 12, Tobler was a finalist in the 2017 Hit Like a Girl Contest, an international competition for female drummers and even won the popular vote that year. Her joy in playing is palpable in her submission video, where her frenetic excitement pairs beautifully with the lightning-quick speed needed to drum along to the eternal Foo Fighters’ classic “Everlong.” That success earned her a chance to perform at that year’s Percussive Art Society International Conference (PASIC).

Her time at School of Rock culminated with a stint as part of the School of Rock All Stars. One of 25 nationwide standouts, she joined a 10-day tour along the East Coast, a journey that, while exhausting, was the most amazing experience of her life.

Beginning with her song “Luvhate” in mid-2019, Tobler has been releasing a slow trickle of solo singles, her sound a throwback splash of ’90s grunge and alternative that recalls bands like Foo Fighters and Weezer. What’s perhaps

most surprising is that these creations are thoroughly and completely her own: all lyrics, riffs, and instruments are penned— and played—by the precocious 15-year-old.

“Whenever I’m starting to noodle around with the guitar, it’s like my fingers just sort of know what to do,” she says of her process. “I don’t have to think about it too much.”

Songs start to form at night, when she’ll write lyrics into the Notes app on her phone. Later, she pairs those words while working through chords. Once the pieces are in place, she adds her drums last.

“I write these songs for myself mainly because I have a lot of struggles with depression and anxiety,” admits Tobler. “I feel like I can take those emotions, put [them] in a little bottle in the shape of a song, and just take it out of myself. It’s quite therapeutic for me.”

The music video for her most recent single, “Mercury Twin,” shows that catharsis at play. Flanked by visuals that

parade through downtown San Jose’s SoFA District, Tobler pleads: “The enemy is me / a psychological defeat / but fear enshrouds my soul / it cages me and takes control.” Her lyrics struggle to keep up with the pace of the song, a subtle sign she’s lost in the chaos of her own emotions.

If “Mercury Twin” finds Tobler caught in a whirlwind, “Stingray” stands as a musical counterpoint—a woozy, simmering song of sorrow. The song, an ode to a lost friend, ends on the heart-breaking note: “Sitting in that rocking chair, viewing all I value / learning each and every thing / is worth nothing without you.”

Her courage to share such vulnerability has earned praise from fans who have admitted in messages that her music has helped them with their own struggles. Hearing that is an honor to Tobler, who says Nirvana, the first band she fell in love with, still comforts her when she’s down.

“It’s pretty wild knowing that I can be that person to other people,” she says. “I hope that my music can be heard by other people that are going through the same experiences that I am, and they can feel heard and less alone.” Thanks to some savvy marketing training with Music Career Mastermind, Tobler’s music has even started to

gain worldwide reach. A glance through the YouTube comments for her “Mercury Twin” video shows praise from supporters in Brazil, Argentina, Peru, Mexico, Russia and Ukraine. In time, she’d like to tour those countries and continue to build her international fandom.

Until then, Tobler’s continuing her daily discipline. Currently, that’s working through the pain of building stamina with her double bass pedal. “That’s been fun,” she says before highlighting the key point she’s learned thus far through music: there are no shortcuts with drumming. “It hurts,” Tobler says, “but it’s starting to hurt less.” C

– AP Tobler

“Whenever I’m starting to noodle around with the guitar, it’s like my fingers just sort of know what to do. I don’t have to think about it too much.”

PICKS ALBUM

R.A.P. Ferreira

Bob’s Son (Ruby Yacht)

Release date: January 1, 2021

Written by Demone Carter

Creating a classic album is an elusive goal for most artists. In 2020, R.A.P. Ferreira (FKA milo) achieved this feat of artistry with his album Purple Moonlight Pages. Expansive, unique, and simply beautiful, Purple Moonlight Pages was an album-of-theyear choice of many.

But how do you follow that? The short answer is—you don’t.

On New Year’s Day 2021, R.A.P. Ferreira released his latest album, Bob’s Son. The album is an ode to iconoclastic poet Bob Kaufman, who, among other things, helped birth the Beat poetry movement. R.A.P. Ferreira’s approach to rapping has always built upon the spoken-word and jazz vocalese traditions and these influences are very evident on Bob’s Son

The beats, which were made by Ferreira under the alias Scallops Hotel, are slow moving and almost ethereal. Over these sparse sample-laden tracks R.A.P. Ferreira plays with language in a deft and clever way that borrows from the best spoken-word traditions without relying on the clichés that typically make rap/ poetry fusion sound corny.

The standout tracks on Bob’s Son are “The cough bombers return,” “sips of ripple wine,” and “bobby digital’s little wings.” My favorite track on this album isn’t much of a rap song at all; it’s a spoken-word piece entitled “abomunist manifesto,” in which R.A.P. Ferreira bends our ears and imaginations with lines like “abomunists do not write for money, they write the money itself / abomunists believe only what they dream only after it come true.”

What I like most about Bob’s Son is that it’s a departure from the formula that made Purple Moon Light Pages such a great record. We do not hear the sophisticated musicianship of Kenny Segal and the Jefferson Park Boys nor is there a stand-out single like “Leaving Hell.” Instead, we get R.A.P. Ferreira penning a mystical ode to his poetry idol and championing the cause of poetry itself.

Favorite track: “Bobby Digital’s Little Wings” RUBYYACHT.COM

Instagram: hipcatscience

Introducing… (Dead Oceans/Easy Eye Sound)

Release date: January 8, 2021 Written

by Taran Escobar-Ausman

With the uncertainty of the outside world, the sweet, honey-dipped, and tender, yet resolute falsetto of singer and drummer Aaron Frazer is a straight injection of your favorite drug. It’s a voice that conjures the innocence and hopefulness of post-war R&B while planting itself firmly in the urgency of modern times. Written and recorded in one week’s time with Dan Auerbach, along with L. Russell Brown (of Frankie Valli fame), Frazer’s debut, Introducing…, is destined to be a modern soul classic.

As drummer, songwriter, and co-vocalist for the soul outfit Durand Jones and the Indications and creator of the gospel-soul project, The Flying Stars of Brooklyn, Frazer comes seasoned and primed to finally introduce his pressed-collar soul. The dynamic songwriting team produce songs that integrate the golden glow of ’70s soul-funk, the melodic nuance of doowop, and the grittiness of a Memphis studio session in the late ’60s. A personal favorite, the hypnotic “Love Is,” is the perfect marriage of each songwriter’s approach as the vocal melody floats over a march-like soul groove.

While at first glance love and heartache seem to be central themes, Frazer takes on climate change and environmental duress. The lead single, “Bad News,” takes its musical cue from Gaye’s “What’s Goin’ On,” where Frazer sings as Mother Nature speaking to a lover in a troubled relationship, “I’m on fire / I’m on fire / I can barely keep it turning.” On “Ride With Me,” he invokes the blues train metaphor to convince the masses to change their ways before it’s too late.

Instrumentally, each song is a joy to listen to as tasteful counter melodies and melodic interplay keep the listener interested. Of course, Frazer’s drum works take center stage in the mix, providing a solid foundation to an album that will certainly make an impression in the world of modern soul.

Favorite track: “Love Is”

AARONFRAZERMUSIC.COM

Social media: aaron_frazer

Curated by Needle to the Groove Instagram: needletothegrooverecords

Aaron Frazer

Nick Cave & Warren Ellis

Carnage

(Goliath Enterprises)

Release Date: February 23, 2021

Written by Jeff Brummett

The prolific Nick Cave strikes again with the prophetic and powerful Carnage, a departure from the justifiably moribund ode to his deceased son Arthur as the subject of his last album, Ghosteen. Forgoing the full Bad Seeds lineup, perhaps due to pandemic necessity, Cave enlists his film composition partner, the brilliant instrumentalist and fellow countryman Warren Ellis for this round. The stripped-down nature adds to the intimacy of the record as a whole, almost as if you’re watching a play in a theater rather than your typical live rock setting.

The intense opener, “Hand Of God,” with its Morricone string swells and eerie pulse, backing Cave’s gripping and gospeltinged yelps, sets the tone for a record which is bound with Cave’s usual caterwauls of faith-tinged allegories and seedy character pieces—most with a shared duality of good and evil. “Some people aren’t trying to find anything but that kingdom in the sky,” he claims, as his protagonist goes to the river to await the hand of god and “let the river cast its spell on me.”

“White Elephant” has Cave in the guise of a white supremacist eagerly hoping for a wrongfully justified (in his mind) course of violence against the protest movements of our nation’s current troubled state. “With my elephant gun of tears, I’ll shoot you all for free, if you ever think about coming ’round here, I’ll shoot you in the fucking face.” Over a minimal almost hip-hop beat, this hypnotic piece fills the audience with the necessary dread and delusion of this character’s apocryphal mindset.

At only eight songs, Carnage gets in and gets out, forsaking album bloat for concise yet deep themes, forever dealing with unanswered questions about the afterlife, the balance between the brutality, and the hope of human capability. On the gorgeous “Shattered Ground,” he perfectly puts it, wailing: “Sometimes the moon is talking to nobody and there’s a madness in her and a madness in me, and together it forms of kind of sanity. Oh baby, don’t leave me.” Cast as a poet in the wreckage, a contemplative howler bent on fury and sadness, Cave and Ellis craft a record of great weight and solace simmering beneath the surface of the constant search for salvation and humanity.

Favorite track: “Hand Of God” NICKCAVE.COM

Instagram: thewarrenellis, nickcaveofficial

Fatboi Sharif & Roper Williams

Gandhi Loves Children (Self-Released)

Release date: October 16, 2020 Written by David Ma

Gross, graphic, nightmarish rhymes on repeat over desolate backdrops. Like a John Carpenter kill, it’s eerie and unsettling but not entirely surprising. This is Gandhi Loves Children, the project between rapper Fat Boi Sharif and beatmaker Roper Williams, New Jersey natives whose recent work has quietly raised their profile in an already expansive, bubbling modern rap arena.

In the video for their single “Smithsonian,” Sharif is in clown makeup, prancing around a forest at night, stabbing a corpse. In another scene, he’s shirtless, wearing sunglasses beneath the bangs of a brown Jane Birkin–like wig. It’s needlessly offputting, but that’s the point. There’s shock value here, but it’s noticeably deliberate, a calculated presentation of shambolic fever dreams. Sharif possesses presence and has a knack for putting associative words and themes together. On “Fly Pelican” he says: “Sky settled in, cyanide mescaline, tie dyed evidence, fly pelican, my kingdom heaven sent.”

Producer Roper Williams has found modest success with other collabs, recently with artists Navy Blue and Pink Siifu, underground notables in their own right. With Sharif it’s clearly more hand-in-glove, an easy chemistry heard on songs like “Galvy,” a noisy instrumental that’s interrupted by panicky vocals and sirens. The whole soundscape isn’t dark, as Roper uses a well-placed Muppets sample to great effect in the album’s midsection. Sharif oftentimes is overly demonstrative, like he’s voicing a cartoon rather than reading lines, emphasizing words to the point of acting them out. Roper’s uncluttered, mournful backdrops are perfect for this. It’s grotesque at points but nonetheless holds your attention—disturbing things often do.

Today’s modern rap landscape is more varied than ever before; scenes exist within scenes with tangential subgenres to behold. There’s plenty to parse, but it’s always nice seeing young artists—just an album or two into their careers—who are assured in their own sound, one that’s informed by very obvious and important influences. In this case: Gravediggaz, Brother Lynch Hung, Necro, Kool Keith, Tech N9ne, and other classic acts with dark comedic angles and horrorcore-tinged material. We’re obviously very excited (and slightly terrified) to see what they do next.

Favorite track: “Pelican Fly”

FATBOISHARIF.BANDCAMP.COM/ALBUM/GANDHI-LOVES-CHILDREN

Instagram: roper_williams, fatboi_sharif

CONTRIBUTORS

The production of CONTENT MAGAZINE would not be possible without the talented writers, editors, graphic artists, and photographers who contribute to each issue. We thank you and are proud to provide a publication to display your work. We are also thankful for the sponsors and readers who have supported this magazine through sponsorships and memberships.

Be a part of the CONTENT community.

Contact us at: Editor@content-magazine.com

BREE KARPAVAGE

Bree is a collage artist living in the Santa Cruz Mountains. She uses the creative process of cut and paste collage as a ritual for empowerment, healing, and spiritual growth.

Instagram: bree.karpavage

GRACE MARTINEZ

Grace is a Bay Area based digital content creator and stylist. Her work is synonymous with cultivating an effortlessly chic aesthetic while mastering the art of styling fashion.

Instagram: gracejeramie

ELIZABETH SULLIVAN

Elizabeth is a copyeditor and poet with an MFA from the University of Washington. She lives with her husband and numerous bees, chickens, and goats, and is fond of making and eating cheese washed down with a moderate amount of mead.

PETER SALCIDO

Peter is a Silicon Valley native who influences the space around him through his expression of style and ambiance. He is a fashion editorial photographer, blogger, and content creator.

Instagram: peter_salcido

KATIE SHIVER

Katie left high tech to complete her creative writing B.A. and now writes full-time — a testament to following your dreams. Watch for her upcoming memoir, “Apologies to my Dog.”

Instagram: katrix01

DEBBIE ANN DURAN

Duran has been a hairstylist at Umbrella Salon for 6 years. She continues to challenge herself and expand her experience in hair, art, design, and fashion.

Instagram: hey.duran

TARAN ESCOBAR-AUSMAN

Taran is an educator, author, record collector, and cerebral vagabond who is completely driven by inquisitiveness and curiosity and is in search of any revelational serendipity.

Instagram: taran_ea

KEVIN

B. MARKS

Kevin is a writer, musician, and collector of weird lounge and surf vinyl. His first book—a memoir told through pop music—was published in early 2019. You can find him jogging on the Los Gatos Creek Trail with his wife or at home telling his two sons, “STOP THAT!”

Instagram: iamapollo13

2, 2021

Save the date for Hope Services’ largest fundraiser of the year, benefiting programs and services to more than 3,200 Bay Area individuals of all ages with developmental disabilities and co-occurring mental health needs.

Hope Services is grateful for over 45 sponsors and partners, * that represent a vital investment in helping bridge the gap from state funding.

For additional information or sponsorship opportunities: concert@hopeservices.org or 408.284.2862

*For a complete list, visit hopeservices.org/concert

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