by
issue—3
rad gals
featuring Gwendolyn Knapp, Carmen King & Rachel Marshall Logan Neitzel, Ela Boyd, Mariane Ibrahim-Lenhardt, Olivia Knapp interviewed Deborah Roberts of Silvae
Editor in Chief Jason Mckinley Parker
Creative Director Elizabeth Rudge
Contributors Caroline Kaufman Photography: Kirby Calvin // New York City // www.kirbycalvin.com @kirbycalvin Words: Elizabeth Rudge // Seattle // www.elizabethrudge.com @elizabethrudge Ela Boyd Photography: Ela Boyd // London // www.elaboyd.com //@elaboyd Words: Ellen Caldwell // Los Angeles // www.eclaire.me // @ellencaldwell Private Parking Photography: Elizabeth Rudge Hair and makeup: Jenny Verador // Seattle // www.jennyverador.com // @jennyverador Talent: Emilie TCM Models Natural Selection Photography: Elizabeth Rudge Hair and makeup: Jenny Verador Talent: Jennae HEFFNER Product Shots Photography: Sam Hunt // Seattle // www.samhuntphoto.com @samhunt Anthony Roma // Seattle // www.anthonyroma.com // @anthony_roma Logan Neitzel Photography: Carmen Daneshmandi // New York City // www.carmendaneshmandi.com @carmendaneshmandi words: Amanda Zurita // Seattle // www.amandazurita.com // @acarolena Mariane MIA Photography: Megumi Arai // www.megumishauna.com // @oneflewup Words: Trenton Flock // Seattle // Rad Gals Words: Lauren Gallow // Seattle // www.desert-jewels.com // @desertren Carmen photography: Judson Felder // Seattle // www.judsonfelder.com // @judsonfelder Gwendolyn Photography: Elizabeth Rudge Rachel Photography: Heather Bruce Allison // Seattle // www.heather-allison.com // @strummergirl Reif Photography: Autumn Northcraft Hair and makeup: Clarity Mettler Talent: Savannah Bigley Words: Zoey Cane // Seattle // @zoeycane Oliva Knapp by Deborah Roberts of Silvae Photography: Manuela Insixiengmay // Seattle // www.manuelainsixiegmany.com // @mannyfrench The Stowe Photography: Avi Loud // Seattle // www.aviloud.com // @aviloud Talent: Danae
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The Illustrious Multiplicity of
Ela Boyd Interviewed by Ellen C. Caldwell
Simply put, Los Angeles-born and London-based artist Ela Boyd is a bad ass. Her light and video-installations combine technology, social media, projection, and performance to create an artistic happening for viewers to see, feel, and experience. She’s an artistic star on the rise and her “Expanded Cities” collaboration with photographer Aaron Farley recently opened in three cities across North America. I was lucky enough to sit down with her to catch up on her art in this digital age.
Ellen Caldwell—Can you tell me a little bit about your recent show “Expanded Cities”? Ela Boyd—“Expanded Cities” is an exhibition that doesn’t exist in one place—it’s in three cities simultaneously. Each gallery has two screens and two web cameras and each has a color field. When you walk in, you interrupt the projection and become a silhouette on the screen. That gets recorded and gets projected in another city – and so on. So it becomes a loop and makes you wonder which silhouette is actually in your space and which is beaming in from somewhere else. EC—That must be a wonderfully confusing and exciting experience as a viewer. What inspired this exhibit? EB—I’ve been working on this idea of multiplicity and how we can be in several places simultaneously—both through media and consciousness. Through obvious ways like our Facebook profile and social media, but then also in the more abstract conceptual way of existing in the form of being, as an image of consciousness in someone else’s mind. So the project is offering the gallery visitor a literal experience of this, where they see their image proliferate throughout the space through reflection, silhouettes, webcam feedback, and different strategies into a culminating experience. EC—How do you feel you are making your mark on light-based art? What do you see as being distinctly Ela? EB—Earlier light and space artists had this modernist approach to a pure color field and pure light and typically we see imagery as being representational, so I’m presenting the image as having an actual presence in the space. I’m re-presenting the actual image self as another version of the self. We’re calling this new movement “Light, Space, and Time,” using the temporal element of live, recorded footage and spanning time zones. Also there were nine events with simultaneous
performers, so we are working with cacophony, call and response, etc., so that even the performers proliferate their personas. We have this multi-perspectival access to the world. So, I was thinking about how to bring that into an art context and a kind of experiential space. I am also exploring digital culture references –it’s not just about new technology we have available that earlier artists weren’t working with, but it’s also the references to these new technologies and social media. I question what it means to have a Facebook profile, or to FaceTime, or to enter a keyword and see several images simultaneously. This is also really relevant to wondering about what the internet has to offer us. There’s a shift from thinking of art as having an aura or being precious, discreet, objects that gain value because of exclusive editions of the print. Whereas now, it’s more valuable if it proliferates through memes, likes, and shares. Objects and digital images permeate and saturate our lives, so they are losing their value in some ways. I’m thinking about offering a unique experience – so I think it’s kind of this new commerce that’s not so much about the object. The digital image relates more to art then because it’s more about proliferation and the concept. --“Expanded Cities” will culminate in a closing reception in London. Visit the exhibition’s website to learn more: http://elaboyd.com/expanded_cities Ela Boyd is a new media installation artist originally from Hollywood, CA currently living and working in East London. She is a recent graduate of the UCSD Visual Art MFA program and received her BFA from California College of Arts in San Francisco. Post-grad, she performed in the James Turrell Perceptual Cell installation during his retrospective at Los Angeles County Museum of Art and has been included in several exhibitions internationally. In addition to her artist practice, she is the art director for fashion films and is a new media experiential designer for international high street fashion flagship stores.
Designer—Jade Mellor
photography by Sam Hunt & Anthony Roma
Incense—blackbird
Designer—Reif
Designer—Ampersand as apostrophe
Logan Neitzel Interviewed by Amanda Zurita // photography by carmen daneshmandi
Boyishly handsome while still mussed up and edgy, New York–based designer Logan Neitzel has managed to create a collection that seems the physical manifestation of himself—dark and raw in a NYC kind of way, but also surprisingly practical and wearable... perhaps a call out to the Neitzel’s utilitarian Northwest roots. Looking at the line it’s hard to believe that the same designer sent a custom-made teal velvet suit down the red carpet, donned by hip-hop artist Macklemore at the 2014 Grammy Awards. The two are friends, with Neitzel often stepping in as stylist for the musician, proving that, while his collections skew more solemn than eccentric (“Aesthetically, dressing Trent Reznor is a bit more up my alley,” he quips), he’s as versatile a designer as they come.
I had the chance to chat with Neitzel in the throws of his latest collection launch. Get to know him, the prison-influenced line (really), and his views on design and physical space and the Internet, below. Amanda Zurita—What was your thought process behind the latest collection? What do you want it to say about you as a designer? Logan Neitzel—With this last collection I was really just trying to create my own take on basics or classic items. I think it’s a very cohesive collection and really gives people some interesting items to incorporate into their daily wardrobe. I don’t really like or follow trends, per say, so I try to make pieces that can last through a trend cycle and still be relevant in years to come.
of being a creative without financial backing. Anyone can be a “designer” now and social media and the Internet have changed everything. Pure talent gets you nowhere without marketing, which is the exasperating side of this business. I’m really a creature of escape, so when I get down like that I want to run away—here in Manhattan I do it on my bike. AZ—What is your perfect-world work environment? LN—I’d love to have some sort of empty garage or warehouse, somewhere that I could have barrels of garments dying, start fires, throw paint, and collect tools—lots and lots of tools. Something in between a fabrication shop, industrial design studio, and an atelier. Of course there would also be a team of craftsmen supporting the cause. I’d love this hypothetical studio to be open and out of the city in a more secluded atmosphere.
AZ—Do you have a favorite piece from the line? LN—My favorite pieces are those that cross over between the men’s and women’s collections, the uniform-style pieces in denim and wool. The base inspiration was prison, so the looks are uniform and unisex, strong and a bit restricted. But styled right, they’re modern and street.
AZ—Living in New York, do you feel like your work is a product of the physical places around you? LN—I think that my design process is influenced and also affected by my surroundings in ways, but I wouldn’t say my work is solely a product of my surroundings. New York is inspiring to me in a good way and sometimes in a bad way.
AZ—What do when you’re feeling kind of bogged down or stuck? How do you get back into a creative headspace? LN—I never really get stuck creatively; I get more sucked into frustration with the restrictions
I’ve learned a different level of sophistication by travel and living in this crazy place, but I feel the inspiration for my collections runs much deeper. What I produce is very much a result of my personality and my life experiences.
Private Parking photography by Elizabeth Rudge, hair and makeup by Jenny Verador, talent Emilie @TCM Models
shoes provided by—sole struck
photography manuela insixiengmay
olivia knapp interviewed by deborah roberts of silvae
Deborah Roberts—You studied at the Art Institute of Chicago and Parson’s School of Design. Did you originally see yourself going into fashion and what lead you in that direction? Olivia Knapp—I saw myself being an apparel designer. I was very seduced by the glamour and lifestyle that fashion provided, but my favorite part was always fashion illustration. I utilized my connections in the fashion industry and ended up using textile design as a way to get closer to the art world and drawing. DR—When did you decide to focus on your art and develop your drawing technique? OK—I think it started when I moved back to Seattle in 2007, after being in New York for four years, that began my transition into getting into fine art. I had been drawing from a very early age, but I never really thought it was a realistic way to make a living. I started getting introduced to different artists through publications like Juxta-pose Magazine and High Fructose and started watching the mini documentaries on PBS (art 21) and saw these little glimpses of these artists that made a go at it. It slowly became more tangible for me. Soon I just had a really clear vision of what kind of lifestyle I wanted and was willing to sacrifice al ot including money, in order to be able to draw full time and do the kind of artwork I was passionate about. DR—When did you start working with the cross-hatch technique and what does the design process look like for you? OK—I believe it started early on when I was freelancing for Eddie Bauer. One of the designers approached me with this old relief drawing that was a Baroque piece and wanted me to create something very similar for a t-shirt design. I spent 3 days on that design and I had so much fun. I hadn’t had that much fun working in a really really long time. That was the start of the rabbit hole for me. I started researching this technique and the history behind it and just really
wanted to recreate this aesthetic that I didn’t see in modern times. I also like the idea that the craft was created specially to replicate and copy art. During the time when crosshatching was most prevalent, before color printing became available, it was considered the lowest prestige of art. Because it was a commodity and wasn’t as precious. It’s ironic now because it’s more rare so people see more value in it. DR—What does the design process look like for you? Where do you go, what do you do to seek inspiration? OK—I can get inspiration anywhere, but I mostly need a few hours on the couch in solitude with my sketchbook to formulate my concepts. DR—Once you figure out the concept how do you translate that into your work. I know you’ve spent a lot of time developing the lighting. OK—First I come up with a rough sketch on the sofa that’s approximately 3x3 inches. I use a lot of medical models and botanicals and I will create a still life or a diorama of those objects, add in the right lighting and take about 30-50 photographs of that piece and use that as a guideline for my drawing. DR—Your most recent body of work looks at the relationship between the head and the heart. Do you see yourself continuing that conversation over the coming year? OK—The main idea behind the head and the heart is solely introspective. They are a piece of the larger story I am looking to tell. To be honest, the majority of my life is a struggle between the head and the heart, reason and desire.
DR—I clearly remember when we met. It was at a time we were both working at Eddie Bauer and we would ride the bus together. One day you showed me some of the drawings you were working on and I approached you about my print work for Silvae and it’s been just amazing working together. So I wanted to get some thoughts from you on what makes an ideal collaboration? OK—I think when you’re collaborating professionally when it comes to art and design it’s so personal. It’s always going to be personal. I think if you have a great foundation of just appreciating that other person on a personal level, and respecting the kind of work that they create, I think that’s ideal. DR—How has it been seeing your artwork in print? OK—It’s so wonderful to feel value for my personal vision and not just be seen as a technician. DR—And that’s what I think is so much fun about working with you is that I respect your artwork so much. It’s so much fun to have it on fabric, and for the everyday person to buy clothing that has art on it instead of just having everyday prints or stripes. And there’s meaning behind it and I think it’s a really interesting conversation looking at fashion that way. Relating it to art. OK—In regards to our collaboration over the seasons I think we have really good communication, and we’re both great listeners, so ultimately each print that we create takes equal parts from us. DR—And that’s what’s just been so fun. I feel like we bounce ideas back and forth and it’s fun to see how it evolves and grows and turns into something I certainly couldn’t have done on my own. That’s what my favorite thing about our collaboration is. The combination of our aesthetic always turns into something even cooler than I would have ever imagined it to be. OK—And I think that’s because we are always having a conversation about the work instead of meeting up and having a traditional meeting with guidelines, outlines, and boundaries there. I don’t feel like there’s any boundaries when it comes to the creative process with us. The openness is what allows us to be even more creative OK—You just came back from Capsule recently. How was your experience there? DR—his is my third time going to capsule and also my third season working on prints together. This season in particular was the most fun because we featured one of your full pieces of work. From afar it just looks like an interesting all over botanical print, on a closer look you see a head, a heart, and arteries. It was really fun to share your inspiration and your work with people at the show. People really responded to it and I think people in general really respond to a story and that’s why its important to me that every collection has a story. And I took it even further and used burnout and sheer fabrics that eluded to the theme of introspection. OK—I remember when we were at the beginning of the creation point for this print for Spring 2015 and your idea was to create a botanical print with my inspiration and we didn’t have a lot of time for the creative process. I remember when you came over and one of my very first pieces I did in this cross hatching style was laying out and it caught your eye and from there we decided to use an original piece. Initially I was a little nervous about using this print on clothing because you wanted to use color and the idea of the brain and heart in color usually looks very grotesque in most situations. I remember going back and forth on that and making sure that wasn’t going to happen and your feeling was subdued pastels and washed colors and it turned out beautifully. It just looks like an old etching with new objects. DR—I’m just so happy with how it turned out. OK—And will be out in stores February and March of 2015
Natural Selection photography by Elizabeth Rudge, hair and makeup by Jenny Verador, talent Jennae @Heffner
Rad Gals
words By Lauren Gallow
That voice inside your head. You know the one. The one that says, “You’re not good enough.” Actually, it often screams this, not just speaks it. “You can’t do this! Just give it up now before everyone finds out you’re a big fraud!” This voice often brings along its good friend, the “shoulds”: “I should be doing what will bring me approval/stability/money/etc.” These thoughts often speak very loudly and with great force. Noticing this mental chatter and choosing not to follow it down a path of self-doubt and selfsabotage has lately become a major practice for me and for many women in my periphery. Especially the women I know who are embarking on something new, wandering through uncharted territory with their creative work. Craft & Culture’s Rad Gals series highlights women who are staring this self-doubt right in the face and choosing instead to listen to another voice: the voice that speaks to their authentic calling, their reason for being on this planet. We all have that voice inside that whispers about the things that light us up. The voice that leads us to the truest, brightest versions of ourselves. The Rad Gal is the one who listens with confidence to that quiet voice and trusts she’s doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing, even in the face of uncertainty. It’s challenging to do the work of your heart. But it’s a challenge worth accepting, because you deserve to be deeply fulfilled in every level of your life. As these six women prove, once you make the conscious choice to listen to your heart and quiet the shouts of self-doubt, worlds of success, joy, and abundance open up. They show us that tapping into your soul’s happiness can be the positive force of change we so desperately need in this world.
photography By elizabeth rudge
Gwendolyn Knapp New Orleans writer Gwendolyn Knapp is quite open about the fact that staying her course as a writer hasn’t always been smooth sailing. Finding work has been difficult, as has telling the stories she feels compelled to tell. After earning her MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina Wilmington, Gwendolyn positioned herself as a fiction writer, even completing a full-length fictional novel. Today, she’s not shy about describing that novel as “total crap.” She soon realized that telling her own family stories carried much more weight and energy than the fiction she was writing. In many ways, however, that nonfiction writing has been the more difficult work for Gwendolyn. Especially compared to the food writing she does as the New Orleans Editor for Eater, an online food magazine. “My heart is not fully attached, I’m not pouring out emotions with that writing. It’s more mechanical,” she says. On the other hand, Gwendolyn describes her current book project as the scariest and most difficult work she’s ever done. The book is a collection of nonfiction stories about her family entitled After A While You Just Get Used To It: A Tale of Family Clutter, slated to be released Summer, 2015. A big reason for the “scary” is the fact that she’s telling the truth about her familial relationships and her mother’s hoarding addiction. Gwendolyn acknowledges this truth has been difficult to face in her own life, let alone write about. However, one gets the sense that for Gwendolyn, speaking her truth and facing her family secrets has invigorated her writing work in the most powerful way. Talking with Gwendolyn reminded me that sometimes the scariest things in life can paradoxically also be the best things. When I asked her why she keeps writing in spite of all the challenges it presents her, Gwendolyn acknowledged, “It makes me crazy to do it. But it also makes me crazy not to do it. I’ve come to acknowledge that writing and telling stories is an inherent, intrinsic part of who I am as a human. I just keep going back to it.” It’s this persistence to keep coming back to her work that has led to Gwendolyn’s success, including landing that major book deal with Gotham Books for her memoirs. However, for Gwendolyn, it’s clear that book deals and making millions
—Rad Gals
have never been the motivators. “If you really want to be a writer, and if you are a writer, and you just know you are,” she says, “it’s a hard life. It’s hard to make it. The payoff essentially has to come from within, because there’s often not a big payoff outside of that.” Ultimately, though, it’s not about the money for her. “How you measure success is important,” she notes. “Hopefully, you’re doing what you’re doing for the joy of the art.” For Gwendolyn, keeping that bigger picture in mind about why she’s doing what she’s doing is key. “Sometimes when I’m engulfed in my work I feel like I’m losing my mind,” she admits. A common refrain for anyone who’s gotten stuck in the art vortex: that place where you can’t see your way out of your creative projects. “But at the end of the day,” Gwendolyn insists, “I know I’m going to have this thing that I’ve created that’s bigger than me. I can step away and know that it’s separate from me, out there floating in the ether of ‘art,’ and that’s hugely important to me.”
photography By judson felder
Carmen King Trying to define Carmen King in one word is impossible. She’s funny, yet serious. She’s impulsive, but also intensely thoughtful and intentional. Even more, she’s set up her life in such a way as to make it impossible to define her through her work. You could call her a fisherman, a writer, a teacher, or a traveler. All these titles would be accurate, and yet, strangely, none of them are. Carmen is all of these things, but none of them define her.
A fifth-generation commercial fisherwoman from Cordova, Alaska, Carmen has spent virtually her entire life on fishing boats. “My mom even fished while she was pregnant with me!” Carmen delighted in revealing. In the 9-month “summer vacation” from commercial fishing, Carmen also has traveled the world working as an ESL teacher. It doesn’t end there. She also fancies herself a writer, crafting personal essays about her life adventures that are so outrageous they often read like fiction, but are anything but. After a decade as a commercial fisherman, Carmen is at the precipice of a new adventure, striking out to Los Angeles with the intention of planting some roots and finding a job on land. Even though she’s not quite sure how things are going to work out, her sense of adventure is intoxicating. “Every place I’ve ever decided to go has been very much on a whim,” she admits. “Sometimes if you just make a decision based on a feeling, you get the ball rolling. If everything works out effortlessly, maybe it’s a sign that that’s what you were supposed to choose.” Although, Carmen is quick to note that she has no qualms with shifting course if things aren’t working out. “Remembering that you can always make a change is really freeing,” she says. Talking to someone like Carmen who is so unabashedly open to trying new experiences and making big changes was nothing short of invigorating. Especially because Carmen’s real work, beyond what she does to make money, seems to be about tapping into her most authentic self. That is her foundation and everything else is just a bonus. “My work as a commercial fisherwoman has
—Rad Gals
been an incredible blessing that I never could have imagined,” she says. “I got a very strong sense about how I want to feel in my job. I never would have thought fishing was going to be the job that made me feel like myself and give me a sense of purpose. That job is full of these crazy volatile situations. And yet, there is something about overcoming a challenge that is truly euphoric. I think that has informed many of my life decisions.” Now that Carmen has stepped away from fishing and is searching for her next career path, she’s been able to hone in on the aspects of her fishing job that brought her happiness and try to recreate them. “I really value the connections and the friendships that happen when you are put into challenging situations with people you might not otherwise get to know,” she says. “It creates these experiences where you are your true, authentic self.” It’s these genuine human connections that Carmen values most and what she hopes to find in her next line of work. That, and a sense of excitement. “I’d love to get myself into some sort of situation that I can’t even imagine,” Carmen replied when I asked her what’s next. “I’d love to look around and say, ‘Wow! This is amazing!’” Fear doesn’t seem to be a factor for Carmen in all of this. “I’ve been broke, lost, and alone,” she says. “I’ve started things I haven’t finished. But I’ve never felt defeated. To me, an interesting life is its own currency.”
—Rad Gals
photography By heather bruce allison
Rachel Marshall When I met with local Seattle celebrity Rachel Marshall, I was so nervous I almost spilled my latte. Rachel has become a household name in my neighborhood with her eponymous Rachel’s Ginger Beer, or RGB for short—a handcrafted ginger soda that’s as tangy delicious as it is fresh.
She’s easy to spot around Seattle with her trademark blonde dreadlocks always piled high on her head. I’ve seen Rachel around town and at the local bars she coowns with her partners Adam Peters and Kate Opatz, but I never had the nerve to introduce myself. I was always intimidated by this power woman, as Rachel is someone who has a very strong sense of identity not only for herself, but also for her businesses. And yet, when I sat down with Rachel at my favorite Seattle café one rainy Tuesday afternoon, I was immediately disarmed. “You walked here in the rain??” she inquired. “You poor thing!” We quickly bonded over our shared love for our Capitol Hill neighborhood, and she told me about her decision to move farther north on the Hill when she and her partner Adam had their baby, Wyatt. What I found immediately with Rachel is that everything is personal, even if it’s business. “I’m not a corporation,” she says. “Being in the kitchen making the ginger beer is my favorite part of the job.. I love this product! I take it really personally.” Rachel runs RGB with her partner and talks about her employees as though they are family. It’s clear the whole enterprise is a labor of love for Rachel. She didn’t necessarily envision herself as a business owner, but knew there was something special about selling a product she was proud of. “At the beginning, I thought, I love making this ginger beer. I love delivering this product to people that I made with my two hands. I squeezed every lemon, I juiced every piece of ginger, I didn’t
—Rad Gals
use an extract. And these people drink it, and the look of satisfaction on their faces! To hear them say, ‘It’s not bad. No actually, it’s amazing!’” Rachel is committed to getting that reaction from her customers. Every. Single. Time. “That’s why I will dump out something that doesn’t taste right,” she says. “We’re not going to sell something that isn’t perfect. I’d rather take a loss and throw it all out. The end goal is that I want it to be perfect. My name is on the product.” That perfectionism has surely accounted for much of Rachel’s success. That, and her drive to continue making a superior product. RGB still uses the same four-ingredient recipe for their signature ginger beer that Rachel developed at the beginning, and she is adamant about refusing to cut corners to increase profits. Rachel’s passion for her product is infectious—she absolutely lights up when she talks about being in the kitchen testing out new flavor combinations, which she still does every Monday. Perhaps even more meaningful for Rachel, though, are the relationships she’s been able to forge over her ginger beer. “I care about the people I serve. I want to feel invested in their lives. There’s something so unbelievably satisfying about that to me. Walking through the farmer’s market on a Sunday morning and hugging the regulars and the farmers. Knowing we are a part of their lives and that they keep coming back to fill up their bottles over and over and over. More than what’s in the bank account, that is by and large the most satisfying thing.”
Reif
interviewed by Zoey Cane
Lindsey Reif likes to keep her studio clean. The white walls are the perfect backdrop for little pieces of inspiration: things printed from the internet, small details from vintage finds, mementos from events, and things that help to remind her how far she’s come. Certainly she has come a long way. Since 2010 Lindsey has expanded her label, Reif Haus, from simple beginnings as an accessory line, to a full on collection selling in local Portland boutiques and shops around the country. Lindsey says at first it was really just a hobby; a platform for experimenting and developing her aesthetic. “When I left my full time job, that’s when it all started to come together” says Lindsey, “The huge thing was finding a photographer who really clicked with my aesthetic. Is wasn’t until I found Autumn [Northcraft] that it all really gelled”. The Reif aesthetic follows the cues of Lindsey’s studio: clean lines, neutrals, and simple silhouettes. She’s more interested in timelessness and versatility than fitting in with the expected Pacific Northwest look. “I don’t think my brand necessarily reflects the northwest aesthetic…I often describe it more like midcentury furniture. Designed to look timeless in any situation.” Lindsey does, however, talk fondly about being an independent designer in Portland, where she’s lived for the last 12 years. “It’s exciting to be on the fringe of
an industry that’s sort of evolving. It’s cool to be on the brink of something rather than in the expected markets like LA or New York. It makes you work harder.” And despite some differences between Reif and the expected PNW style, Lindsey has found Portland to be a fruitful place for collaboration. She’s about to launch a collaboration between Reif and Better Late than Never Jewelry. “It’s hair jewelry, so like bun cages…you don’t really see those anymore. We were like, wouldn’t it be cool if this existed. And then we said, why don’t we just make them?!” Portland is the perfect place for that kind of do it yourself attitude, and the collection will be available in November. When she sets out to design a new collection, Lindsey mostly starts small. Sometimes she focuses on 2 or three details pulled from things she’s thrifted or pictures off the internet “I’m always taking these weird screen shots on my phone.” Sometimes she starts from the fabric and then designs around that. The important things are fluidity and flexibility. “Usually I’ll have one inspiration and by the time I’m done everything will be completely evolved.” Reif has evolved also as a brand over the past 4 years, and although Lindsey has her goals (focusing on local production, maybe someday designing her own textiles or branching out into a home goods line), she’s happy for now to be focused and hands on with her latest collection. AW14 available in stores and online now.
The Stowe photography by Avi Loud
caroline kaufman words by Elizabeth rudge // photography by Kirby Calvin
There are some days where you feel trapped in between a flood of selfies and other people’s extravagant lives of eating beautifully made macaroons in their Egyptian cotton sheets. Then there’s days when social media wins and you are introduced to an artist who makes you drop eveything to write a letter to them. That’s what happened to me when I saw the work of Caroline Kaufman. I just wanted to crawl into her knits and never leave. It seemed as if her pieces were conversation starters with a childlike playfulness and sophisticated craftsmanship in the details. This was something unique. This is something that needed to be in print and on the streets. Caroline Kaufman has roots stem from West Virginia and that is revealed in her identity as an artist. The Mountain State is the epicenter of the American craft. “As a textile based fashion designer, I carry a deep respect for story telling and art made by hands,” Kaufman starts. “I learned from a small age that clothing could be a canvas for tactile exploration, and that the power of a garment made by hands celebrated ancestry, storytelling, and the art of the three dimensional form.” Kaufman started designing at a small age using note pads found in her father’s center console of his car. “I took the liberty of filling those note pads up with maidens wearing tennis skirts, forlorn-pathwork-berry-gatherin dresses equipped with too many Heidi braids. My dad always begged me to use both sides of the page because I filled note pads so quickly. I remember being around four or five and being excited to go to school because it meant on the car ride I could draw in the notebooks.” I always wonder what some ones specific path is that brings them to their current passion. Through the years I‘ve found it’s bits and pieces woven together that can create the perfect profession. A kaleidoscope of sorts of past dreams and curated tastes. “As a teenager I wanted to be a marine biologist, own a bakery, work for national geographic, and a million other things”, Kaufman says. “As a teenager I began realizing that art and design played a huge role in every aspect of my life. I was constantly making, photographing, drawing, and coming up with concepts. I decided to go to art school and it was the best decision I ever made.” Kaufman recently
graduated from the Pratt Institute and while there found that fashion combined all that she loved in technical and artistic disciplines. Making the jump from small town urbia to New York City can be overwhelming for anyone, but it can also be just what is needed to shake up life and give past inspirations a new breath. “When I first arrived in New York I had never sewed and no idea what I was doing. Studying fashion design was a huge leap into the unknown, but I kept returning to my love of print and textiles.” To keep her natural inspiration alive Kaufman heads outdoors as much as possible. “I go to the park every day—even in the middle of winter I find a 15 minute time slot, and I ride my bike to Fort Greene. I’m also a huge proponent of the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. It isn’t my mountain home, or even a close second, but being surrounded by trees and flowers keeps me sane in this crazy city.” Kaufman feels this most recent collection, in it’s purest form, best illustrates who she is as an emerging designer. “I gathered inspiration from my childhood drawings, colors, textures, and daydreams. Textiles from the American South West have always inspired a lot of my colors and textures. However, I often find inspiration to feel very overwhelming, so I have to sit down and start playing with colors that feel natural to me, and finally let the work evolve on it’s own.” In fashion it’s important to keep ones identity as every season calls for a change of aesthetic or trend. It can be easy for a designer to lose their way in the masses of fast fashion, but you won’t find that here with Kaufman. “I live and work by the philosophy of showing up and doing your job, whatever that job may be. It’s a mindset that means every day I have to focus on the process of making and being an artist, rather than the result of my work, which is ultimately in the universe’s hands.” Kaufman believes the most important element of fashion is authenticity. Oh and pockets! Whatever the universe has in store for her is for the future to know. I can’t wait to see what the next year brings for Kaufman and what childhood dream we’ll be able to explore next through her eyes.
Mariane Ibrahim-Lenhardt interviewed trenton flock // photography by Megumi arai
It is hard to know where to begin when talking about someone like Mariane Ibrahim-Lenhardt—with her background, her job, her passions, her artists? They are all inextricably bound by a far-reaching vision. To put it succinctly, she’s a perfect example of a twenty-first-century cosmopolitan, which is a phrase I don’t use lightly. The twentieth-century cosmopolitan was typified by a self-indulgent jet-setter for whom the novelty of world travel was a benign extension of imperialism, but Ibrahim-Lenhardt is of a more evolved sort that uses increased mobility and communication to heal historical scars rather than benefit from them. Her sophisticated style and expertise are a reflection of the more compassionate, borderless world she hopes to see come about, and in effect become an irresistible endorsement of it.
She founded M.I.A Gallery in 2012 in downtown Seattle to show work from international contemporary artists. The last few years have been quite busy, as she has also been organizing exhibitions in other cities, from Hong Kong to London, and collaborating with artists, curators and intellectuals around the world. I’m catching her in the small window she has in Seattle at the end of September. A few days before, she was on a panel speaking to architecture students with Dave Adjaye at Harvard. The two of them were finishing the installation of a new show, Luminós/C/ity.Ordinary Joy which they curated from the Jean Pigozzi Contemporary African Art Collection. It’s the inaugural show of the new Ethelbert Cooper Gallery, Harvard University’s first gallery dedicated to African and African American Art. Ibrahim-Lenhardt gave a private art tour of the new installation to Oprah Winfrey and Steve McQueen before flying back to Seattle. In a few days, she leaves for the Frieze Art Fair in London, then returns at the end of the month to prepare the next installation at M.I.A Gallery. Despite her packed schedule, she still wishes she could do more traveling—and not for leisure, but rather to further push her passion: uniting and supporting creative minds around the world who foster more awareness of diverse cultures, question our own assumptions about identity, seek solutions for social and environmental ills, from Africa to Europe and Asia and beyond. And though her business is based in Seattle, she is always happy to be back in Africa, which she still calls home. Or rather, as she puts it while gesturing with her whole body, “Africa is more than home. It is I.” Ibrahim-Lenhardt was born in Noumea, New Caledonia in the southwest Pacific, which she describes lovingly as “one of the most beautiful places on earth.” Her family moved to Somalia when she was very young, and it was there that she developed her deepest roots. But to her dismay, they moved again to Paris shortly before Mohammed Siad Barre was deposed.
“We didn’t want to leave, but my father was very smart. He saw the coup coming.” The move left Ibrahim-Lenhardt feeling “dislocated,” and though she adapted to the her new environment, she hoped to return to Africa. She did in 2003, and lived in Somalia until 2006. “Those were some of the happiest, richest years of my life. Those years, 2003 through 2006, made me the person I am, who does what I do.” While in Africa, Ibrahim-Lenhardt saw a rich world of contemporary art that was not being shown much internationally, and the impetus for her gallery was initially to “show what was not being shown,” to reflect “the multitude of layers in African art” and also address the misconceptions that persist in the west about the African continent. “Sometimes people assume, or want to think that because I am African I have to show African art. It’s not the case. I’m showing African art because I feel there is a big gap. There’s a big blank. There’s something to be said.” “My Africa is not perfect; it has a lot of issues, like everywhere. I am not trying to create a global understanding of Africa. I’m talking about regions—and more than regions. I’m talking about subcultures in big regions, which is really a tiny window into the world.” For the casual observer, this might simply be a curiosity, a joyous glimpse of humanity’s diverse self-expression, but her interest in subcultures stems from a deeper desire to confront stereotypes about what Africans are and are not: “Africans don’t listen to heavy metal. Africans are not dandies...” The list goes on, and many entries on that list are matters of cultural appropriation, which typically flows only one way. That is, empire may appropriate what it will from other cultures, but turnabout is resisted or treated as illegitimate. After all, a
paralyzed culture is more easily absorbed. Ibrahim-Lenhardt’s opposition to this is evident in the artists with whom she works, who come from all over the world, not just Africa. Those artists who are of African descent are all still working within Africa, but speak to issues that are globally relevant. Others with different origins move across cultures fluidly, with devotion and respect. Some work to reinvigorate and document subcultures, reversing the cultural flow of appropriation and allowing for re-appropriation. Some question and inform identity—whether individual or continental—and encourage sovereignty based in cultural literacy. Some do it all, and taken as a whole, the work show at M.I.A Gallery closes the distance between people and cultures while enabling more pluralistic expression. “Someone who has been following my work and the shows that I have exhibited will see that they are all connected,” she says. “And each one is a chapter, part of a big book, and that book—if it continues like this—will make people realize that we have to cultivate our differences, but we also have to embrace our similarities.” Regarding re-appropriation, Ibrahim-Lenhardt explains, “Everything is blurred. Hybridity and our ability to make cultural fusion is, to me, the future. Mixing is the future.” Her “optimistic, futurist” vision is the foundation of M.I.A Gallery’s mission, and each of her artists have a unique approach consistent with this mission. Of course, the context of that mission isn’t immediately apparent to everyone, and the relatively low diversity in Seattle and its geographical distance from the origins of her artists—be they from Africa, Europe or Asia—presents challenges and rewards. “Before a person will collect from me, I have to educate them. That is my primary job in Seattle: I educate people about what’s happening, what I’m showing—then comes the
appreciation, and then, maybe, the person will like to purchase something. I’m on the other end of the world from Africa, and if I want to create in my own terms a better world, I have to do my part, and my part here is to make people more sensitive to the views they have of Africa.” “I end up being a sort of envoy or ambassador in this part of the country, this part of the world. There are others doing their part in other places—Detroit, San Francisco and so on—and we are so connected, so when an artist is visiting Seattle, they say, ‘Oh, you have to meet Mariane!’ So many artists visit Seattle, and I am able to meet them because of this connectivity and this unique position. So I wouldn’t change anything.” These visions are essential to maintaining momentum, but the brass tacks aspect of selling art remains her primary concern, precisely so it doesn’t have to concern her artists. As a gallerist, she serves both artists and audiences by creating a space where the work can be appreciated, but in the end its also about making sure more work can be made. “It’s fascinating how we love art, having art in our institutions, everywhere...but somebody has to take care of the artists if we want them to continue. And it’s really tough today to survive in our society, and when you are an artist it’s even harder. And when you are an artist in Africa, it almost mission impossible. I want to facilitate that for my artists, so they can keep going. I want to make sure that their work is seen and it is valued.” Because art’s benefits are intangible and impossible to quantify, it is notoriously hard to price. Ibrahim-Lenhardt candidly calls it irrational. “The way these things are valued—it can be one euro, ten euro, ten thousand euro—it is irrational.” However, the security and confidence to continue creating independently is vital to the artists, and therefore priceless to Ibrahim-Lenhardt. As with all dealers, her own success is tied directly to the success of her artists, but there is no push for a quick buck. The artists need only focus on creating sincere work true to their vision and from this work she curates shows that will leave a mark on a broader and broader audience. This leads to an important distinction for her: “I don’t just sell art. I build careers, and then I sell art. When I see work that is museum-quality, I pursue that. I develop the artist through the media, through public showings, and then comes the commercial part.” Even still, the decisions made about what to show come primarily from her long-term mission—what will fit in the big book being written with each exhibition, and what people need to see to develop their appreciation for contemporary work, especially work made in Africa or in connection with it. To fully understand that mission and the woman behind it, one must look at the artists. The bond between gallerist and those she represents goes far beyond the material side and is rooted in the shared experience of living between cultures. For example, artist Maïmouna Guerresi is an Italian-born woman who married an African man. She documents Sufism in lush photography, video installations and sculptures, seeking mystical elements common to all spritiual movements. “I don’t believe in countries. I don’t believe that there are borders of countries. There is always the question of ethnicity involved, as if you have to be from a certain country to talk about some subject. I’m not interested in that. Why is it okay for me to be African French—no one disputes that—and for an Italian to not be African as well? There is still a kind of danger, because by assuming that I am French but an Italian cannot be African—it is kind of degrading. As if an African being Westernized is always better than a Westerner being Africanized. It is a bit disturbing because we accept almost as a form of colonization.” “So I am very interested in that conversation, and in artists like Maïmouna who are finding their inspiration in Africa and also feel that sense of discrimination or segregation. The same thing goes for [Jean-Claude] Moschetti, who is white and French and goes to Africa, not to colonize anything, not to impose, but to truly receive what these cultures are offering and also helping them continue with the time by recording them.” The Moschetti show—on display in September and October—includes large portraits of shamans in colorful full-body costumes. These shamans are part of a network of closed secret societies across the continent. Moschetti has the extremely unique ability to participate in these societies and photograph the ceremonial garb—something most westerners could not dream of doing, and probably shouldn’t and wouldn’t. A spiritual tinge is frequently seen in work shown at M.I.A, but again each artist has a different approach and there is usually a twist in the story. Justin Dingwall, for example, photographed albino model Thando Hopa in portraits reminiscent of the Virgin Mary. Such western religious influences are also apparent in Maïmouna Guerresi’s work. “Maïmouna was herself born in a Catholic family. Her parents were Catholic missionaries in Africa, trying to convert people. And her reaction to that was finding her own spiritual quest in Africa, but in her own aesthetic, and creating her own iconography.” This aesthetic is informed by Italian Renaissance polytychs, saints and symmetrical forms, especially around tables—not unlike images of The Last Supper—and even if there is no food visible, there seems to be an invitation to a communal experience, one that is essential across cultures. It is worth noting as well that M.I.A Gallery represents an almost equal number of men and women artists. This was not a conscious decisions on Ibrahim-Lenhardt’s part; she chooses based on the merit of the work, not at all on the criteria of sex or provenance.
“It is harder to be an artist if you are a woman, just based on what is expected of you in the rest of your life. I think women have to confront issues of identity more naturally and frequently than men, and the women I work with are so strong and have such clear ideas about identity within and between cultures, it just comes naturally for me to work with them.” The recent Kimiko Yoshida show is a prime example. Yoshida creates countless, beautifully staged self-portraits in which she wears unique “bride” costumes. Sometimes they are drawn from abstract or artistic sources. Others are non-literal variations on authentic bridal outfits from throughout world history. Yoshida herself is dissolved in these figures as she embodies different visions of femininity—and humanity as a whole. Terhran-based Negar Farajiani has shown enormous versatility in her chosen mediums over the years: from video installations, to tapestries, to quilts, to jigsaw puzzles. The content is adapted to each medium, but in all cases there is a confrontation with what it means to be a woman in her region of the world, and underlying this a constant reminder that all of us are composite things, impossible to easily define. Belgian-born fine art photographer Fabrice Monteiro is another example of one who crosses culture, with an aesthetic influenced by both sides of his heritage—European and African. The content of his work deals more immediately with the past and future of Africa in a global setting: deeply affecting portraits of contemporary Africans wearing wrought-iron reconstructions of slave collars; fantastic images of “Djinn” rising from piles of trash and rotting machines that are dumped in Africa by western and eastern countries; and the recent show Gorean Summer, taken on a trip to Gorée—once a hub for brutal slave trade, now a coastal resort town where young people swarm to beat the heat. Ibrahim-Lenhardt emphasizes that being an outsider does not necessarily give one a clearer picture. She equally appreciates external and internal views of the broader culture, and part of her pride as an art dealer is ensuring that African artists who wish to stay on the continent do not need to feel they must move elsewhere to have an international career. To dislocate the artist from the region inspiring them would necessarily change the work they make, silencing them in a different way. “As for the contemporary art I see being made in Africa, I would say it is completely uninspired by the west. Some of the artists— some, not all—are self-taught, and when you are self-taught and don’t have the art history classes, and you start to create without knowing what has been done elsewhere, that is a pure aesthetic. It hasn’t been put under the yoke of institutions. It has not been dictated, and I think that is why now, contemporary African art has the attention of the world. African artists are not Afrocentric; they have access to a lot of information and they are tackling global issues, and a lot of collectors and curators are traveling now to Africa, and the artists are traveling more, too.” “The fact that there is now an art fair dedicated to African contemporary art being held in London—which is really central—is really interesting. It’s still separate in that way. Last year’s show was a great success, and maybe in time we’ll stop calling it African art. We will call it contemporary art and where it was made will not matter.” “Artists are traveling and exchange is constantly happening. Artists are doing residencies in other countries, within Africa. If you ask an artist, ‘Would you like to do a residency in Africa?’ the answer is, ‘Yes!’ There is a joie de vivre, there is a new sense of development, and you find a bit of yourself in Africa. And let’s not forget: We are all from Africa. So returning is really the most natural thing that can happen to a human.” And what of Ibrahim-Lenhardt’s next move? The rest of her year is of course full of planning for other exhibitions and traveling, including a trip to South America. When I note that she has artists from almost every continent, but not yet from South America, she smiles and shows excitement about what she might discover down there. “I am already very interested in a lot of Mexican artists. I would love to represent someone from that region, so I always encourage artists to submit, submit, submit! But I have to be careful, too, because as I said I am very bonded to my artists and it takes time the way I do it. I will add more artists proportional to my own development.” This ties to one of the few frustrations she lists about the gallery as it currently stands: The small space allows her to create intimate shows that one would experience differently in a larger space, and it makes maintaining her local brick-and-mortar more manageable while she travels, but it also makes some shows impossible. “It is a frustration because I know I can’t show certain work or get certain artists here because of the space. There will always be a frustration, and that is one of them right now, but I have been able to accomplish so much and I’m proud of what I have done. I know I am still very blessed.” It is hard to know where to begin when talking about someone like Mariane IbrahimLenhardt—and also to know where to end, but as it all begins and ends with the art for her, perhaps her words about the bond with her artists say it all: “It’s a difficult business. All of my artists...they know it. And there has been a great bond formed out of that. And I’m not going to let them down. I’m persistent and I will just keep going, and they give me a lot of force and strength. They make me each day a better warrior, and I have to fight for them, and I am happy to fight for them.”
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