Estimated reading time: 9 minutes

An accomplished designer steps into his true passion, creating multi-layered artworks with bold color and carefully nuanced composition

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I’ve known Steve Snider for years…decades, actually. As a photographer, I’ve collaborated with Steve on countless book cover projects during his tenures as Art Director at Little, Brown & Co. in Boston and St. Martin’s Press in NYC.

In his designs, he was always keenly aware of composition, cropping and nuanced texture to distill the emotional content of a book down to a single visual story. So I wasn’t surprised to see him bring these qualities to his street photography of urban walls and surfaces (which Best Self Magazine profiled a few years back in an article titled The Wall). What did surprise me was how lit up, even giddy, he would get while shooting, sharing and discussing this body of work…it has become his life’s work in this next chapter for him.

Recently, Steve has embarked on an exciting evolution, now ripping, layering and collaging his photographs into larger, even more textured pieces. In this Q&A with us, Steve dives into his process and inspiration for this next generation of derivative wall art. Be sure to check out the Gallery at the end!

—Bill Miles, Co-Founder and Creative Director, Best Self Magazine

Q: You’ve been creating photographic art from ‘wall art’ — urban walls and surfaces layered with tattered posters, paint, signage, graffiti and the like — for many years now. Tell us about the evolution to this new derivative medium… What inspired you? What is your process?

A: Wabi-sabi is the quintessential Japanese aesthetic that values the beauty of things imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete. This echos my response to the torn and weathered billboards indigenous to cities around the world. I began photographing urban walls many years ago, mostly while traveling, when I would have my camera with me. But at home I found the camera too cumbersome to carry all the time, so despite seeing many walls that I wanted to photograph I rarely returned to shoot them. And then something miraculous happened: the iPhone. Suddenly this little device I could carry in my pocket allowed me the freedom to be spontaneous; I could stop anywhere, get as many shots as I wanted and see them instantly!

And then a second thing happened: Instagram, a platform for sharing photographs. I began posting images, one a day, at stevesnidernyc and calling them #todayswall. I found myself anticipating time out of the office and anxious to leave my desk at lunchtime to wander around looking for subject matter. Something that had always been within me surfaced as a passion, and I realized that I wanted to devote myself to it full-time. So, in 2014, after 50 years in the publishing industry, my new vocation became seeking out and photographing great walls. I began making prints of my images, 21”x21” squares, but after a few years I felt the need to do bigger work. I began making larger prints of my images and then tearing them and reassembling the pieces into collages that are mostly 36”x48” or 40”x40”. I like to think that using my own photographs separates me from others who work in a similar genre, but who collage with actual material torn from walls.

Q: How do you ‘see’ the compositions and color palettes you craft…is there an intention for social commentary or is it your seasoned designer/artist’s eye the guides you?

A: As a designer I have always viewed the world in terms of graphic compositions. My mind insistently frames what I see. When I photograph urban walls, finding “the composition in the chaos” feels natural to me. Sometimes random bits of images unintentionally interact to tell entire stories. More often, in the collages, the narrative in my work is simply about shapes, colors, textures, patterns, and how they juxtapose. It is not social commentary so much as making a record of our times by capturing this transitory beauty even as it is vanishing.

Q: How do you know when a work is ‘done’? When do you know to stop tinkering and exploring more possibilities?

A: That’s is a great question. I’ve always said that it takes two people to make a great piece of art; one to do the work and the other one to tell him when to stop. But the serious answer is that my own process is organic. I begin with a basic composition in mind but after the initial pieces are glued, I sit with it for day or so before adding or decollaging. At that point I experiment with additional shapes and colors until it feels wholly balanced. I can spend hours on a 4” section. When the rhythm feels right I know I’m done. I love the Trompe L’oil aspect; most of the rips, creases and bubbles are in the photographs but others are real. Various light sources exist within the same space but the eye allows it.

Q: You’ve built a bit of a virtual community in the space of ‘wall artists’ — can you elaborate on how that grew and the surprise relationships and joy that that have unfolded for you?

A: There have been famous artists using torn posters as source material for years; Jaques Villegle in Paris, Mimmo Rotello in Rome, even Walker Evans. I shot my first wall photograph in 1973. Today there are a lot of people on Instagram who photograph walls and many of us follow each other. While at times the images may seem interchangeable, everyone sees with their own eye. I feel what separates my work from most others is the cropping, a skill honed through fifty years of designing book covers. As for working in a genre alongside other like-minded artists, I feel no need for competition. Art movements have never been created by a single artist. I have Instagram friends in many different places around the globe whose work relates to mine. I’ve met up with some when they have come to America or when I have been in their countries.

Q: What is your aspiration as an artist at this point in your life? Is there a ‘big picture’ ambition behind your work or is it purely the pleasure, or calling, of creation?

A: What I am doing now gives new meaning to my days. It makes me feel alive and relevant. I hope that others respond positively to the work, that it provides some surprise and joy. Of course I would love to have gallery shows and sales for validation and recognition, but ultimately it is just for my own expression. When I was designing book covers, I would often get so involved that I felt detached from my surroundings, what I described as being “in the zone.” Similarly, my studio is a world where I can get lost in the work. As I approach 80, that’s a great feeling. As they say: you can’t turn back the clock, but you can wind it up again.

VIEW THE GALLERY: CLICK ANY IMAGE TO ENLARGE

ABOUT: Steve Snider is a graduate of the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. In his 50-year career, Steve owned his own design studio, served as Art Director of The Atlantic, Design Director of Arnold and Company (now Arnold Worldwide), Art Director of Little, Brown and Company, and Vice President, Creative Director of St. Martin’s Press for 18 years, before turning to photography and his personal art full-time. Steve has designed numerous bestsellers and iconic book jackets and has been the recipient of hundreds of design awards including a Gold Medal from the New York Art Directors’ Club, First Place from the Victoria and Albert Museum, and First Place from the New York Book Show. His work has been featured in AIGA’s 50 Books, 50 Covers, Graphis and Communication Arts, and was included in the show Fame After Photography at New York’s Museum of Modern Art. View more of Steve’s work on Instagram @stevesnidernyc

You may also enjoy reading Francisco de Pajaro | Art Is Trash, by Peter Occhiogrosso

The post The Wall 2.0: The Next Generation of Artist Steve Snider’s Textured, Urban-Inspired Works appeared first on BEST SELF.

Estimated reading time: 9 minutes

A photographer pulls back the veil of shame and isolation of postpartum depression; an all too common condition that lives in the shadow of motherhood and society

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Postpartum depression is in many ways no longer taboo; it’s an affliction on the lips of most pregnant women as something they fear, and which they’ve been told counseling and medications can help. And yet — when I experienced it myself after the birth of both my children, and when I interviewed other women in the midst of their suffering — I realized that there is something we’re still not seeing, or are only willing to look at askance.

It’s Been Pouring sets out to capture the voices of mothers in their darkest moments.

This collection of photographs and interviews shines a direct light on their experiences, exposing the unbearable tension that exists between the miracle of birth and the horror that follows, leading the viewer through a narrative of despair.

We’re still far from acknowledging the profound struggle a mother faces when her internal experience does not match society’s expectations of her as a joyful mother bonded to her newborn — a realization that only exacerbates the daily challenges she inevitably confronts in early motherhood.

The sympathetic, yet unwavering lens this project brings to postpartum depression helps build the case that it is in an important sense a social problem, due in no small part to the narrow definition of what our culture means by “mother.”

My name is Rachel Papo, I’m a photographer based in Brooklyn, New York, and I had postpartum depression. Twice.

My projects are often based on personal experiences, so I decided to explore this topic. I was curious why even though postpartum depression is something that many people know about— why are mothers still so ashamed of it and hide it?

I started with my own story — I matched photos I took with my phone to text messages and emails from the time I was going through it.

And then I started wondering—how many other mothers are out there that went through the same thing? How is their experience compared to mine? Can I recreate their stories through texts and photographs?

I put an ad online, and women responded. Immediately. I started interviewing mothers and then photographing aspects of their stories that were significant, or reflected something that I’d experienced. These women seemed relieved to talk about it. Some broke down and cried, because many of them never opened up about it to anyone.

It’s Been Pouring, in a way, shines a direct light on these mothers’ darkest moments, exposing the unbearable tension between the miracle of birth and things that are kept hidden.

I’ve been developing this body of work for over 6 years and I’m very excited that it’s going to be published. This unique multi-layered book will be comprised of my own story, and a chorus of mothers who echo it.

By supporting this important project, you will help me bring more awareness to postpartum depression and encourage open discussion. Because, really, it’s not just a mother’s problem—it affects us all.

rachelpapo.com

You may also enjoy reading Homeschooled: Photographs by Rachel Papo, by Kristen Noel.

The post It’s Been Pouring: The Dark Secret of the First Year of Motherhood appeared first on BEST SELF.

Estimated reading time: 8 minutes

Dear Lola Letterpress combines modern design and an old-school method to make custom stationery that pops… literally.

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We conducted a Q&A with Sabrena Burnett, owner of Dear Lola Letterpress. Using a decades-old hand-crafted method, Sabrena creates beautiful printed works of art that facilitate deeper connection between the parties that they are intended for. Each piece invites the holder to take pause and appreciate the message on a deeper level.

Q: Let’s start with basics… what is letterpress? 

A: Letterpress is a type of relief printing that uses a block or plate which is inked and then impressed directly onto the paper being printed. It gives a very textured feel to the paper.

Q: When did you first discover letterpress?

A: I had known about it previously, but I really fell in love with the process in 2009 after I took an intro to letterpress printing course at Otis College of Art & Design in Los Angeles, CA. I was working a full time job in fashion marketing, but wanted to explore other opportunities and figure out what was next because my career wasn’t fulfilling me.

Q: When did you decide to make it a business?

A: Probably the first minute of that printing class! I felt like I found something I could be excited to do every day. I was not the best printer back then, and I obviously had a lot to learn and a long way to grow. But I saw and felt that I could create a business from this mostly because of the joy it brought me.  I knew I could become a great printer and was up for the challenge to learn and build a business. 

Q: What was the process like?

A: I decided to fully immerse myself into the printing and design world. I took a few more classes at Otis.  I signed up for classes and workshops at The Museum of Printing, which is also in LA. I made friends with all my printmaking teachers and one of them helped me source Big Red (my printing press) from an old school in Nevada. In the meantime I started dreaming up company names and designs, while still working a full-time job in marketing. Finally, all the stars aligned for me and 10 days before I was going to quit to work on my new company, Dear Lola, full-time, I was laid off from my job. So I set up a shop on Etsy, set up a website and started working!  I’ll never forget the excitement (and fear!) over my first few orders.

Q: What is your favorite part of the work?

A: I am a single person business, so I literally wear all the hats. Designer, creative director, printer, social media manager, photographer, customer service rep, etc. I think my favorite part is seeing a project come to life. A larger project like wedding invitations, will start with a simple idea and brainstorm. Once we have designs finalized and go to production/printing, it’s so gratifying to see what started as a little seed of an idea is executed on paper. Still all these years later, it’s an exciting moment to see a large project all packaged up and ready to be delivered to my client.

Q: What does letterpress mean to you?

A: Letterpress is such a tactile and unique form of printing. Anyone can click print on a printer, anyone can send an email or a text. But there is something so personal about receiving a card in the good ol’ snail mail. I like to know that people are sending all the cards they order out into the world. It truly feels like I’m creating a medium for people to spread love and joy. Who doesn’t love to receive a hand written card or note in the mail? I recently had a client who was turning 50.  She wanted to send 50 notes to people that have touched her life.

This is why I do this.  It’s more than just a business to me, I love the thoughtful aspect of letter writing and people connecting with one another.  It’s vital for our world, especially nowadays with how prevalent technology is. 

Visit the Dear Lola shop to make your own custom Letterpress goodies!

You may also enjoy reading Following the Doodle: An Artist’s Journey of Reclaiming a Long-Forgotten Passion, by Barbara Laurie

The post Dear Lola: Modern Letterpress with Love appeared first on BEST SELF.

An ode to the city that (almost) never sleeps; a photographer turns his lens on New York City’s majestic theatre district during COVID

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‘Broadway in the Dark’ is an ode to the artists, theatres, industry and the city I call home — the one that has been put on hold during these unprecedented ‘dark’ days. And this feels personal because I am an actor, a photographer, a New Yorker. This place houses my heart and my hopes. It sits dark, quiet and uncertain. Yet, it still remains stoic and majestic — and that is what I choose to hold onto and see.

Just as this city never sleeps, this isn’t about the demise of a craft. Instead, it is a peek towards the future fueled by the belief that we will be able to go back to entertaining, and attending, and creating and communing.  

The lights and the curtains will go back up. But for now, I celebrate her differently, in her solitude.

The idea for this collection came about while taking a long afternoon walk up Broadway in the rain in late April. Early spring always feels like a time of transition, caught within limbo of seasons. And this April it had already been dictated that we operate in as much isolation as possible — a city surrounded by people, yet isolated by ‘social distance’. 

That particular day I walked all the way from Union Square (14^th Street) to 50th Street and Broadway — just me, my camera and my city — and the first images of this body of work were born. A table and chair in the empty pedestrian plaza near Macy’s Herald Square, Times Square devoid of humanity, energy, traffic, sounds, vibrancy — all seemingly muffled. These first images were the seeds from which this collection blossomed. 

After arriving home, the reality of what was transpiring hit me harder and the inspiration for this work evolved even further. It first started with the streets upon which the theatres lived. The quiet desolation at curtain time with few, if any people or cars was eerie and jarring. What had always notoriously been one of the busiest times in the theatre district — packed with enthusiastic theatre-goers bustling about in and out of pre-show dinners, meeting up with friends, was now still. Not even a whisper of its normal self.

Though still, there was also a notable sense of hope.

I exhaled when I saw that the theatre lights were still aglow, both inside and out, as if to say, We will be back as soon as we can… As if that solitary light in the middle of the stage was proudly standing there, eagerly yet patiently waiting for the next show to raise its curtain. Yes, we will be back!

During the first session, I was drawn to the famous Barrymore Theatre. After I shared the initial images I captured with a good friend and fellow photographer, he suggested that I continue to explore this and document more of the dormant theatres in the district — to tell their collective story. The project extended from there to multiple excursions into the area to create the rest of the images that became a part of this collection. Broadway and Times Square demonstrate the effect of these times, this collective timeout, probably more than any other. 

The nature of Broadway and of New York City is rooted in resilience — and it is poised to rebound, to rise and to reemerge out of our quarantine.

Capturing this moment in time feels important, almost sacred.

I believe we will resume our passions as artists, creators and lovers of the arts. We will sing and perform. We will play beautiful music and we will dance in the streets! We will attend productions and meet up with friends. And the lights will go back up on Broadway — and I will sit with a playbill in hand. Until we meet again… my dear theatre.

Click any thumbnail to view the Gallery

The full collection of images can be viewed and are for sale HERE.

You may also enjoy reading Falling in Love (Again): A Photographer’s Connection to a Lost Art Form, by Justin Borucki

The post Bright Lights, Covid City: Broadway in the Dark appeared first on BEST SELF.

Estimated reading time: 8 minutes

How a doodle reconnects an artist to her past and her present and unleashes a body of work.

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As far back as I can remember, I have been obsessed with doodling. In fact, I doodled all the time. Any blank surface was an open invitation to scribble, create and daydream — unchartered territory. Paper napkins were a big favorite, and a paper restaurant tablecloth… positively irresistible. The margins of my school notebooks were always filled with fanciful little sketchings. And I must admit, not much has changed.

All of this doodling seemed to organically awaken a love of art in all forms within me.

Initially, drawing and painting became my focus. After attending art school in Colorado, I fully intended to return to New York where I would launch a wildly lucrative career as a fashion illustrator. But as often is the case, my path had a few other twists and turns and led me in different directions. 

However, I did remain rooted in the art world, but just not as an ‘artist’. I actually jumped to the other side of the fence creating a boutique agency managing the careers of other talented artists, mainly photographers and illustrators. During those years my own art took a back seat.

I became what I call a ‘weekend artist’ painting watercolor landscapes for pleasure.

But all the while I was running my business — negotiating contracts, developing budgets, organizing photo shoots — there was always a computer in front of me and a mound of paper right beside me where I continued to doodle about the margins. And I still do the same today, all these years later.

Follow the doodle.

I have come to realize that the doodle has never really gotten its fair share of respect. Doodles are always misconstrued as fluff and have never been considered serious art. But for me they have always been the thread that kept me connected to my childhood imagination. That very thread, albeit stretched and a bit worn out, held onto the passions of my artistic soul.

For this I am truly grateful — because when I am creating, I am alive. And something is alive within me. 

Which brings me to this series of ink-on-paper drawings I call the BE Cards. The little character who appears on these cards came out of nowhere one afternoon as I was working away at my computer (while simultaneously doodling in my notepad of course). Suddenly I realized I was drawing this little character over and over in all kinds of different situations. S/he was literally coming to life as if leaping from the page. 

My imagination had taken off just like it had when I was a child skipping about. Endless streams of inspiration, quotes and ideas flowed forth. I captioned the drawings with titles like Be Joyous, Be Curious, Be Balanced — and then I closed my notepad and put them away. Afterall they were just doodles.

That was two years ago.

Today we are coping with the COVID-19 pandemic. Self-quarantining and ‘social-distancing’ are the order of the day. But there is opportunity to be seized. In the quiet of having much of my everyday life and routine stripped away, I returned to my notebook and dusted off my doodlings. I felt called to revisit my little character and this unfinished body of work. And what a joyous homecoming it has been. S/he would not rest and continued to call to me.

In the last few weeks this humble doodle has developed into a whimsical character imparting simple yet powerful messages.

BE DARING

BE EXPRESSIVE

BE DETERMINED 

BE A FRIEND 

Above all BE KIND

I intend to create one BE card every day until this quarantine is over. I will be posting them on my website barbaralauriepartners.com and on Instagram @barbaralauriepartners

In the meantime, quarantine or no quarantine…

I urge you to do the same in your own life. Explore something that may have been left behind…

A part of yourself that will joyously come back to life and fill you yet again. Seize the chance to set your own creativity free in whatever form that may be. BE your Best Self. And remember to follow your doodle…

View the Gallery: Tap any thumbnail to enlarge

You may also enjoy Podcast: Salli S. Swindell | Color & Creativity: An Artist Rejuvenates Her Craft by Best Self Media

The post Following The Doodle: An Artist’s Journey Of Reclaiming A Long-Forgotten Passion appeared first on BEST SELF.

An artist’s plight to stay inspired through cold, dark isolated winter months uncovers a passion project that keeps the creative (and soul) juices flowing

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I’m a freelance illustrator living just outside of Cleveland, Ohio where we have lots of gray, rainy, snowy, damp and chilly days. While our sunny days fall far below the national average, I’ve discovered a benefit of gloomy days and how to use them to my advantage. Firstly, they make it easier to work and not get distracted. And ‘work’ in my case, means to create. Luckily my studio is only 10 steps from my kitchen making it extra easy to stay inside, nestled and warm. While it can feel a bit oppressive during the winter months, it’s also Mother Nature’s gift of inspiration; a time to retreat and deep-dive into creative projects.  

But admittedly, winter can feel long and isolating. This past year, I knew I needed a little something extra to get me through from January to April because the lack of daylight can be a bit rough on my soul. So I leaned on what I know how to do: I created a personal design project and made myself accountable by declaring and sharing it on Instagram. It was my ode to staying vibrant, impassioned and connected — and to hopefully help others do the same.

January 1st, I challenged myself to create something colorful every day for 100 days in a row. 

I named my project Staying Colorfully Creative. I also invited other artists to join in and to share what they created each day. At the time I wasn’t exactly sure what I meant by staying colorfully creative, but I knew that it would show up in one form or another. I trusted that by doing something I love — the ‘why’ would unfold and it’s message would be revealed. In the meantime, I got lost in creation. The goal was that my challenge would hold my hand through winter and end about the time the days would be getting longer and the temperatures warmer. In other words — it would guide my spirit through these winter doldrums.

Every morning I would wake early to make coffee, feed our cats, and start creating. Daylight was still hours away. It didn’t matter because I had so much color happening on the page in front of me. I’m a morning person — that’s when my creativity runs high. 

Connecting to what you love first thing in the morning is also a brilliant way to set the tone of the rest of your day. 

I love drawing food so that became a consistent theme. I illustrated quotes that I found meaningful. I drew flowers, boots, cats, gardening tools, vintage fans, rainbows, birds, and log cabins. I created some illustrations in 15 minutes while others took hours — and yet, it never felt like a burden or an obligation. Instead, I felt like I was drawing away the gray of the world around me. Later, it occurred to me that each morning I was literally drawing through the darkness and into the light of every single day. My long-term goal was actually manifesting each day.

As I was rounding the bend towards my 100th day of ‘staying colorfully creative’ — I started to see other ways that this self-created project was starting to transform me and my career. Things I did not anticipate or even contemplate started to emerge. I began trying new art styles and exploring different color combinations. A few of the styles and color palettes have already been incorporated into my commissioned work. 

I also began to recognize that some of the intricate patterns I was creating felt like a form of meditation.

These illustrations were not part of my client workload so it felt very freeing… almost sacred. In general, I don’t draw what’s in front of me, but rather a version of the things that spin around in my head. Creating freely, without an agenda — allowed for inspiration to emerge.

My project made me realize that it’s not what you create or how you create — but why you create that matters most.

This project was simply about the art of creating. There was no objective other than to allow free expression to flow. I was creating simply to create and to connect to that very important part of me… and to do it every single day. That is self-care for the soul.

When you are drawing so regularly, you can’t possibly expect to like everything you produce and that really takes the pressure off. Now every time I feel the twinges of anxiety from looking at so much amazing art on social media, I pause and remember WHY I’m creating art and instantly feel the self-doubts fade away. There is room for all of us to create and share our authentic messages whether by pencil, paintbrush or musical note. 

My WHY has changed over the years. It’s less about chasing down commissioned work and more about creating work that makes me happy.

Quite often this work ends up being purchased and that’s a double bonus. I love posting my work on Instagram as it gives me a way to archive myself and to connect and possibly spark someone else. I can look at an image and remember what was going on in my life when I created it. 

My greatest takeaway from my 100 days is that I’m starting to sense a new direction for myself and my career. Along with being an illustrator, I am also the co-founder (with my brother Nate Padavick) of They Draw & Cook and They Draw & Travel, the Internet’s largest collection of food and travel art by artists all around the world. The founding mission of our sites is to help promote and showcase the work of artists, both amateur and professional. 

Nate is an illustrator, too — though we each approach our work differently. While I have started allocating much more time and energy to my personal work, he continues to focus on client work. This actually made us realize that we still have so many more ways to support the illustration community. We have started developing online courses that will help artists keep their businesses growing and their creativity flowing. We call this endeavor Left Brain Right Brain: Grow Your Business Nurture Your Creativity. (This is the very first time I’ve mentioned this, so now I’m fully committed to making it happen! Stay tuned.)

As I’m writing this, our long-awaited summer has arrived in Ohio, which is awesome. And along with its hot and humid weather (which I love) and all its temptations to be outside — I’m striking  a new balance between soaking up these glorious months and staying connected to my work. Because you know what? I discovered that I really like creating something colorful every single day… no matter the season. 

You can see my entire 100 day here. Follow me on Instagram for daily color.

View the Gallery: Tap an Image to Enlarge:

You may also enjoy reading An Artist’s Legacy: It’s Not What We Create, But Rather Who We Become by Hope Koppelman

The post Color & Creativity: An Artist Rejuvenates and Redefines Her Craft appeared first on BEST SELF.

A box of family costume jewelry provides an opportunity for reimagining keepsakes and memories

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A dear friend approached me this past holiday season with an inquiry about making some special gifts for her family from her parent’s costume jewelry. After some discussion, we arrived at the idea of repurposing the jewelry into one-of-a-kind Christmas ornaments. She handed over a chaotic box filled with necklaces, earrings, bracelets, pins, and other various pieces that she inherited — and I got to work. 

And btw, this is my ‘happy place’ — nothing inspires me more than a challenge and crafting.

I began by combing through the assortment of jewelry and mix-matched pieces and parts — and was presented with the conundrum of combining such seemingly unrelated pieces into something of meaning. Like every creative project I take on, there are always moments of clarity intermingled with doubt. Aaaah, the creative process.

My background and expertise in textile design kicked in though, and lead me to organize the jewelry by collection and color. In the end that would help me create 8 unique ornaments. Having a good sense of each recipient’s taste also enabled me to customize each piece according to their sensibilities. My path then became clear. The next challenge was figuring out how to mount the jewelry in an aesthetically pleasing manner. 

Researching ideas, I came across some small circular wreaths that would become the perfect frame. I painted them to match each theme, then cut, reconfigured, and repurposed the jewelry onto the wreaths. Once I began, it became an overwhelmingly addictive process that I could not put down — I was infusing life into that which had lain dormant. 

By the end, I was delighted with the results and I was sure my friend would be as well. After I presented the finished ornaments to her she was overwhelmed with the final product. The joy of seeing her parent’s jewelry adorning the wreaths, rather than hidden away in a box was a big part of what made these pieces so impactful. 

Displaying these ornaments every year breathes life and brings a new way to honor and cherish the past while remembering loved ones. I am so excited to make more of these for my family and others as well. Bring on the trinkets!

View the Gallery; click an image to enlarge:

You may also enjoy reading Ammunition 4 Good: An Artist’s Creative Stand to End Gun Violence, by Gina Raphaela

The post The Family Jewels: Transforming trinkets into treasures of lasting meaning appeared first on BEST SELF.

A celebration of movement and mindfulness — identical twin sisters share connection, motherhood, yoga, career and life musings 

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We came into this world together 44 years ago, identical twins who share everything — even our DNA. 

We are yogis, mothers, wives, career women — and seekers / life journeyers. 

Our Instagram account @ChinTwins began on a whim while vacationing together in our home state of Alabama. My husband, photographer Nigel Barker, posted a picture of us doing yoga together on his Instagram, and the response was crazy. He then encouraged us to start our own public account to share our passion for yoga — and life. Today, our account has grown  organically to nearly 100K followers and has given us an amazing platform to connect with a global community about all kinds of things that matter to us… beyond our yoga mats.  

It is an incredible time that we live in. And social media, Instagram in particular, has opened up a whole new audience to the practice of yoga — not only the bendy poses, but the positive affirmations and mental clarity that it can bring into our lives as well. Our intention with our platform is to remind everyone that we are all made of the same stardust and that we all have the same energy flowing through us — our interconnectedness is undeniable. We may not look the same on the outside, but we all feel and think alike on the inside. The images we create are a reminder of this connection we have with one another and with the collective whole. 

We all belong, we all fit in, there is a perfect match somewhere for each of us, we are never alone — we believe that there is a purpose and place for us all.

As for us — one lives in New York and the other in Alabama. While our surroundings and the people in our lives are very different — our daily challenges and joys are very much the same. We both have children and busy lives balancing the usual heavy loads of work and home. Our account is a way to stay connected to each other and to share our journeys of being sisters, wives, and mothers — and to feed our well of creativity.

We both have a passion for yoga, dance and movement — and after our youngest children started school we both completed our yoga teacher training. We realized that self-care wasn’t just a nice concept, it was something that needed to be incorporated into our lives as an essential part. We wanted to share this belief with others through our account. 

Knowing what we need as women and asking for it is the only way we can truly be present for our families. Showing up in the world as nurturing mothers, wives and centered, happy women required radical self-care. The many paths of yoga both physically and mentally hold so many benefits for all of us — connecting our body, mind and spirit. As parents we have so many responsibilities as our children grow older and absorb everything we say and do. Having a daily practice has helped us to not be reactionary, to not judge, to let go of the little things, and to slow down and enjoy each moment. It helps us model holistic healthy living for our children. 

The beautiful big picture of life can be easily missed when we allow ourselves to get swamped with all of the daily stresses that life can bring. But that’s life. There will be ups and down, twists and turns — how we navigate it makes all the difference. Yoga has been our roadmap. As we grow older we depend on yoga to keep our bodies fit and healthy in all aspects. And I’ll let you in on a little secret: Yoga is the ultimate fountain of youth! 

We’re truly passionate about creating images for @ChinTwins! And with Nigel taking all of our pictures, it’s a family affair. We love the entire creative process: from conceiving ideas, shooting, location scouting, to styling and editing. We love each step of expressing the beauty of yoga through the art form of photography. Each image we post is infused with a message of encouragement intended to plant a seed of hope in someone’s heart. A picture can convey a thousand words…it is our desire that it connects to others on a deeper soul level. 

As twins, our signature use of the symmetry we share, has allowed us to convey the mirror image we go through life with — an image always looking back at us as a reminder of where we came from and we are going. 

Our platform born of passion, creativity and fun — has also connected us to other brands and businesses doing good works to shift the consciousness of the planet. We’ve collaborated with The Senhoa Foundation to create a yoga-inspired jewelry collection. Each piece is handmade by Cambodian women who are victims of human trafficking — and 100% of the profits go to empower these women and give them a better future. We are also Ambassadors for Alo Yoga,  an athletic clothing line that is dedicated to bringing mindfulness and movement to elementary school children by developing a yoga curriculum that will be shared with 2 million children this year. 

Life is fluid, ever-changing, ever expanding and contracting. Follow your passion. Nurture your best self. Then and only then can you truly connect to others and find where life is calling you. And who knows…you might just find your answers on your yoga mat! 

View the Gallery: Tap any thumbnail to enlarge and then swipe through images. Photographs by Nigel Barker.

Learn more at thechintwins.com | Chin Twins Instagram | Photographer Nigel Barker Instagram

You may also enjoy Best Self Yoga Flow for Flexibility and Relaxation with Carter Miles

The post Body of Art: A Celebration of Life In Motion appeared first on BEST SELF.

A photographer rekindles his love for his city and his craft after discovering the lost art form of tintype photography

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I discovered photography, almost accidentally, when I had to fill a course requirement for my high school Art Regents program. Up until that point, painting had been my main focus, so a photography class could have quickly been filed in the same category as my pottery class. It was just another box to check for graduation and by no means a priority or passion.

My attitude immediately changed after my first class. I discovered that photography wasn’t just about pointing my camera lens toward something and clicking a button. I was tasked to create images based on my point of view, my personal lens, separate and distinct from the mechanical lens of my camera. I was inspired by how much I was challenged as an artist to express myself in a new and unfamiliar way.

But the process of creation didn’t end with pointing and clicking, even when done with an inspired eye. I had to practice discipline, restraint, and discernment. It was the 90s, before digital photography allowed for hundreds of images to be shot, reviewed, sorted, kept, and discarded in a matter of minutes. Film was expensive, so shots were considered carefully. And the process of bringing those shots to life was lengthy and even backbreaking at times.

While my friends played video games and socialized, I spent endless hours in a dark room developing my shots (and crossing my fingers that even one of them would produce something that would justify the effort). It was a long, boring, tedious process. But one I returned to again and again. Because as arduous as it was, one perfect shot made it all worthwhile.

My love for photography never waned or wavered, and I pursued it in college at the Fashion Institute of Technology and through taking jobs at the School of Visual Arts and camera shops like K&M Camera in downtown Manhattan (where I met lifelong friends who have also gone on to have successful photography careers).

Making pictures was my world.

Eventually, I would land a job at Harris Publications as a photo editor where I would spend four years working on magazines like King, Revolver, and Guitar World, all the while building a freelance career that would eventually support me fully.

By that time, digital photography was king, and client demands didn’t allow for the slow and deliberate process of making images by hand. The work was exciting, taking me all over the world and introducing me to thousands of celebrities, musicians, and sports figures, some of whom I only knew through posters on the walls of my teenage bedroom or album covers in my music collection. I was living the dream!

The problem, though, was that I was an artist, and feeling fulfillment as an artist required a certain amount of challenge, stretching, inspiration. I loved and continue to love to photograph musicians and celebrities (I’m still waiting on that call to shoot Tom Waits), but I was desperate for something fresh.

What I didn’t expect was that ‘fresh’ meant going back in time to the 1850s and re-discovering a process that I was at one time more than enthusiastic about leaving behind.

It was at a local Renaissance fair that I saw a man dressed as a pirate making wet plate tintype images in a tent. Wet plate photography is an entirely handmade process with origins dating back to the 1850s. Metal or glass-plate negatives are sensitized, exposed, and developed on-site using a portable darkroom. It’s art, science, and magic rolled up into one medium. I was mesmerized by what I witnessed.

Sometime later, I started exploring the craft on my own. I built my first darkbox out a cardboard box and researched the process of making chemicals necessary for creating my images. As soon as I developed my first plate, a fire reignited in my soul. I traveled back in time 20 years, and I was suddenly a teenager standing in my high school darkroom.

I was falling in love with photography all over again.

Not long after that first experience with wet plate, I found myself dragging a large format camera and wooden darkroom (that I built myself) through the gutters of New York City, painstakingly making handmade images in the streets. My plates absorbed all the dust, grit, and raw energy of the city.

This process is poetry to me. The texture and detail of each plate can’t help but spark the imagination of the observer.

In a time marked by instant digital gratification and relentless self(ie) expression, this process slows life down—it slows me down. It inspires me to dive deeper, to explore further. It reconnected me with my native New York and opened my eyes to the beauty of the changing (and disappearing) city I loved as a kid. And now, running my pop-up tintype portrait studio on Prince Street in Soho, I get to connect with the beautiful stories of strangers in private portrait sessions, making one-of-a-kind heirloom images they’ll cherish forever.

Even though I’m humbled by the demand of the process of wet plate photography, I take great pride in what I’ve been able to create. And I feel thrilled to have the privilege of sharing my work with the world.

Maya Angelou famously said, “Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.” By all outside accounts and opinions, and based solely on my commercial work, I am a successful photographer. But I would encourage everyone to heed Ms. Angelou’s words as I have, as inspiration to continue to go after their dreams and strive for success in a way that feels meaningful for them, not just according to the rules of convention. Connect with the creative in you, and know that happiness and success lie in the pursuit of that connection and expression of your creativity.

View the Gallery; tap any image to enlarge:

You may also enjoy Bright Lights, Covid City: Broadway in the Dark by Dan Lane Williams

The post Falling in Love (Again): A Photographer’s Connection to a Lost Art Form appeared first on BEST SELF.

Artist Shannon Downey melds cross stitch with activism, formulating a new form of craftivism one stitch at a time

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Where there is voice, there is power.

Shannon Downey

This is not your Grandmother’s cross stitch. Nope.

What happens when old school meets activism in the form of craftivism? Badass Cross Stitch, of course! Straight from the Manifesto on their website, this company exists to inspire, enable, encourage, push boundaries, change shit and engage — in other words, to put down our devices and make something (like meaningful change in the world).

Badass Cross Stitch works exude a sense of old world meets new, legacy in action. Having recognized the stories captured in cross stitch from centuries ago, founder Shannon Downey grew curious about how history got recorded — and began to contemplate the notion of which stories would we leave behind?

“You and I know that our history books are full of half-truths, outright lies, omissions, and erasures. A history told through a white man’s lens. You and I also know that every life and every story matters. That the more voices we hear only serve to enrich our understanding, our perspectives, and our choices.” ~ Shannon Downey

 And so a badass and a cross-stitcher was born…and as they say, the rest is Badass HERstory.

If you have a social media account — you’ve likely come across at least one of her many cross stitch works that have gone viral.

So, how could she shift the narrative? Well… one stitch at a time.

Yeah, and as you have probably suspected, Shannon has bold, lofty goals commensurate with her sass and style, already in motion. In what she considers to be her most ambitious project to date, Badass HERstory, she has sent out an invitation to all — to participate in a massive global craftivism project meant to capture and share the stories of as many women, female-identified, and gender non-binary humans as possible.

If you want to learn more about this art installation the likes of which the world has never seen — if you are ready to put down your devices, get crafting, learn to embroider, and use your hands and heart to slow down and create a beautiful analog version of your story — if you are ready to make Badass HERstory, click here.

View the Badass HERstory video

As always, I’m intrigued by the genius behind the messages, the face and the deeper story. I couldn’t resist asking Shannon a few questions.

Q&A

with Shannon Downey and Kristen Noel

Kristen: Your website tagline reads, “Put more analog in your digital” but clearly you are getting your ‘digital’ on with over 73K followers on Instagram. Tell us how that unfolded. How do you use your digital-dom to your advantage? When did you recognize its potential for good and how do you balance that (particularly when your images go viral)?

Shannon: I love digital. I love social media. Running a digital marketing company for 10 years had me connected to a device 24/7 and touting the potential for social media to do good… until I was blue in the face. I was over it. I needed a break. I started stitching as a way to get more analog time in my life. Creating space to disconnect was exactly what I needed. But as they say, “pictures or it didn’t happen!” Naturally, I started posting my stuff on Instagram and folks were digging it.

I spent the first few years sharing tutorials and creating patterns for folks to encourage them to stitch and engage. As the culture of the country started changing, stitching was a way for me to process or respond to what I was experiencing — and folks definitely responded to that. When a few of my pieces went viral, my audience grew substantially. My digital community really connected with not only what I was stitching, but the writing I was doing to accompany the stitch. I saw an opportunity to really engage with people around hard subjects…to be able to put an idea in front of them for consideration and then have some quality dialogue around it.

It has been amazing! It’s the best side of social media and it feels really important to both model that and expect it from my community. My Insta community feels like a truly brave space for people who want to learn and grow and have challenging conversations. I moderate the shit out of it to make sure it stays that way. 

Kristen: Your iconic piece, “Boys will be boys held accountable for their fucking actions” was translated to Urdu — can you tell us how that impacted you? Has the power of potential reach sunk in?

Shannon: That was so incredible to me. Boys will be boys seemed like such a colloquialism to me that I had no idea that it would translate across cultures and languages (although it’s hardly surprising if I spend half a second thinking about it). It was so very cool to me to see that. The reach has been unfathomable to me and really speaks to our shared experiences. 

Kristen: Were you surprised by your massive following? When did it start, what does it say for other people? What words of wisdom do you have for people to get their own voices out there and go for it even when it doesn’t make sense?

Shannon: I think anytime you are doing something that is authentically you — you will find your people. Everyone can spot fakes… the folks who are ‘crafting a personal brand’ versus just being themselves. You have to know who you are, what you believe in, what you want to say and contribute, and then stand in that truth no matter what. It takes a lot of work to know yourself like that.

Do the work. Figure out your truth and own it. Understand your intention. My intention is to have a positive impact on the world and to educate others and myself in the process. When you approach the work from a true place of giving and growing — you cannot fail. I say that, having failed countless times when my intentions were selfish because I didn’t know myself well enough yet.

Kristen: Have you received haters / pushback? If so, how have you dealt with that?

Shannon: Hahahaha! I’m trying to topple the patriarchy… haters abound! I have done the work. I know who I am and I can stand in that. I know what I’m willing to sacrifice and I know how far I will go to keep this movement moving forward. That scares the shit out of the haters. In this case I mean true haters, not just folks who happen to disagree with me or push back against an idea I present. Those folks are welcomed and some transformative conversations come out of those dialogues. True haters/trolls/misogynists…they get blocked and deleted. Simple as that. I don’t engage. I simply block and delete. I don’t owe anyone anything.

Kristen: What lights you up right now? What’s keeping you inspired and creating?

Shannon: WOMEN! I am so inspired and grateful for all of the bravery that I’m seeing right now. I’m seeing hard conversations — people pushing themselves — allowing themselves to be uncomfortable in service to growth and true systemic change. I could scream it makes me so happy!

View the Gallery — Tap any thumbnail to enlarge:

You may also enjoy reading The Kids: A Photographic Study of Children of Gay Parents by Gabriela Herman

The post Messages In The Making: Inspiring A Movement, One Badass Cross Stitch at a Time appeared first on BEST SELF.

Gina Raphaela grew up in a family of secrets and suppressed self-expression, and set herself free via her mission driven art to end gun violence

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Born Italian American, raised in New York, the middle child of six, with a father who was a member of the Genovese Crime Family — I learned at an early age how to keep secrets and put a clamp on self-expression. It was safer that way.

Despite this childhood environment, I was determined to find a way to express myself creatively. And by the time I was seventeen, I began to explore the art world in New York City where I now live and work.

Influenced by my bold and vibrant Sicilian heritage, my art juxtaposes a masculine sense of danger and provocation with refined finishes.

My creative process begins with an open heart and quiet mind as I attempt to create from an acceptance of the unknown — the ultimate freedom. My intent is that the viewer experiences that same freedom.

Three years ago, I started to make wearable art in the form of socially conscious jewelry with co-founder, actress and author of Hiding Out, Tina Alexis Allen. Thus began, Gina Raphaela Jewelry and our ‘No More Violence’ collection. After attending a speech by the Dalai Lama where he pronounced that “the world will be saved by Western women,” we heard that as a call to action.

I liked the challenge of transforming a symbol of violence into something beautiful, something wearable. I had been working with inert bullets, in some of my more political constructive sculptures. Tina and I decided to make refurbished bullets the center of our socially responsible collection as a way of taking a stand for non-violence.

Our handcrafted designs transform bullets while sending a clear message of peace, safety and equality.

Each season, a generous portion of Gina Raphaela Jewelry’s proceeds benefit a different non-profit organization whose mission is to end violence.

What makes my work even more satisfying is that as a painter and sculptor, I have always wanted to make my art accessible to a wider audience, allowing more people to own the story of my art. I understand that buying a piece of jewelry is a very different investment than owning one of my six-foot sculptures. There is a different form of intimacy and connection.

The statement pieces are always conversation starters and usually result in dialogue about the mission of the brand. We have never been anti-gun, but we are absolutely about common sense, gun sense, and personal safety. We became sick and tired of the senseless violence and this is our way to bring more attention to the need for change.

View the Gallery: Tap any thumbnail to enlarge

Gina Raphaela Jewelry is available online at ginaraphaelajewelry.com

You may also enjoy reading Art Is Our Teacher: Let’s Learn From Rather than Destroy the Art which Reflects Our Past by Jill Skye.

The post Ammunition 4 Good: An Artist’s Creative Stand to End Gun Violence appeared first on BEST SELF.

Creating art and spiritual growth dovetail beautifully into a process of self-exploration, creating an ‘in-between’ space to discover one’s true self

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Being an artist hasn’t come naturally for me.

As a matter of fact, becoming an artist has often been a painful process of shedding, breaking apart and deep soul-searching. So many times I’ve been emotionally chewed up and spit out because I tried to apply old paradigms of competition, self-criticism, and expectations of success that haven’t materialized. My garage is filled with old work, canvases stacked like tombstones that are visual diaries of my past. I’ve never poured my heart and soul into something so close to the bone — my bones — and experienced so much rejection — but here’s where it gets really good.

On the worst days, I’ve been forced to get to the heart of things and answer this fundamental question: Why do I make art? If so few see it, and even fewer buy it, why bother?

I’ve slowly come to see that art is my teacher…

With brutal love, she exposes the most vulnerable parts of my personality so that I can get over myself. It’s been an uncomfortable process, but I see now that making art is setting me free.

I didn’t fully commit to becoming an artist until 2008 when at 37-years-old, I was accepted into art school in London. By this point, I had worked a few years in corporate America, I was married with three children, and had lived in three countries outside the U.S. Moving constantly for 15 years had given my brain a sort of ‘cultural scrambling’ and my worldview had already started to shift.

Starting art school ignited a period of intense growth in my life. Living in another country with a deceptively different culture, having no history with anyone, and being twice the age of most of my fellow students created the perfect concoction of insecurity that left me open to really examine my life and my choices. I began to carve out an ‘in-between’ space for myself, a conceptual void where I could get a little distance and perspective from the character of ‘Christie’. I began to see that my personality was the composite of a lifetime of choices based on an inherited cultural identity. The question emerged, “Who am I, really?” My quest had begun.

That first year, I made crazy work. I sewed a coat of fluffy blue dyed tampons. I drew giant bugs on the wall with black ooze coming out of the ventilation grate. Some of my drawings looked dark and sinister. Looking back now, I see I just wanted to break free of the mental constraints I had created. I had to subvert some of the concrete ideas I had of myself in order to break through self-imposed limitations. My fear of failing, criticism, and exclusion were at the top of the list.

In essence, I began to reprogram my thoughts by changing my ideas about myself. It’s a process that is ongoing. By loosening the grip of a ‘fixed’ personality and choosing instead to remain more fluid, the disappointments don’t have the same sting and the accomplishments aren’t as distractingly intoxicating. There is a middle path that seeks a balance from the extremes, and from this place, the conditions are much better to allow for a natural flow of ideas and creativity.

Living in a state of relaxed contentment is available to all of us who are willing to surrender perceptions that are simply not serving our wellbeing.

As I continue to learn to relax the vice grip of judgment and criticism, I see that making art and spiritual growth have dovetailed beautifully into a process of self-exploration. The newfound freedom I’m experiencing doesn’t just apply to artists and free spirit types.

Here are my top 3 Perception Adjustments

Here are a few areas that I found within myself that needed a perception adjustment. Maybe you can relate to them as well:

 1. Stop glorifying the Type A personality

That begins within ourselves, but also in what we teach our children about how to define success. Type A people have a reputation for getting things done and being top earners in our culture. While that may be true, most people I meet that describe themselves as Type A tend to be highly critical, stressed out, and go to great lengths to gain and keep control. Most don’t sleep well and suffer stress-related health problems. Instead, trust the Universe to meet your needs, and look to those who have attained work-health-spiritual balance as role models.

2. Practice loosening the fixed personality

For one week, let go of one aspect of yourself that you strongly identify with. Any habit that you put on autopilot is up for grabs, especially the things you “have to do” but don’t really want to do. You are not the things you do! You are so much more.

3. Find some way to express yourself

This is so important! If you love to dance, but going to a dance club is a thing of the past, put on music in the comfort of your living room and cut loose! If you spend most of your days head down in your office at the computer, go to a craft store and make a simple project with your hands. Sing in the car on your way home from work — really loud!

We are all creative beings here on this planet with such a short time to express ourselves. Your spirit is begging for it!

View the Gallery: Tap any thumbnail to enlarge

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Christine is the founder of Arts Evolution, which was created from a desire to help integrate the arts into the community, both through public projects and service to others.  Arts and culture are the heart and soul of society, reminding us of the beauty and depth of the human spirit.  Arts Evolution aims to nurture creativity and help others find their voice through workshops, group projects, and commissioned artwork.

You may also enjoy reading Body of Art: A Celebration of Life In Motion by Cristen Barker and Kimberley Hise

The post In The Service of Art: Christie Chandler appeared first on BEST SELF.

Photographer Gabriela Herman, a child of a gay mother, turns her lens on other children of gay parents, revealing shared and poignant challenges

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My mom is gay. But it took me a long time to say those words out loud.

She came out over 20 years ago when I was in high school. My parents soon separated and, eventually, she married her longtime partner in one of Massachusetts’s first legal unions. It was a raw and difficult time. I hardly spoke to her for a year while I studied abroad. It felt like a fact that needed to be hidden, especially among my prep school classmates. The topic was taboo even within our otherwise tight-knit family. My younger siblings were dealing with the same emotions, but meaningful conversation seemed beyond our reach.

Seven years ago, at the age of 29, I began The Kids project, with the intent to meet, photograph and interview people with a similar story. Despite living in numerous cities around the world, I had never encountered anyone else raised by a gay parent.

My sister directed me to COLAGE, an organization that supports people with LGBTQ parents. I met Danielle Silber, who has six parents and who had become an organizer for the group. She invited me to her East Village apartment where her living room floor was filled with young people each telling their own family’s ‘coming out’ story. Since that night, I’ve documented nearly 100 stories of children and met many more. Each portrait and interview has become, in an unexpected way, my own therapy session.

The Williams Institute estimates there are at least six million children with gay parents in the United States. And in my interviews, I discovered every situation was unique. These conversations recalled having to juggle silence and isolation and needing to defend our families on the playground, at church and during holiday gatherings. Some were adopted, some conceived by artificial insemination. Many are children of divorce. We were raised in urban areas, the rural Midwest and nearly anywhere you can point to on the globe.

Some aspect of each story resonated with my experience and peeled away at my own sense of solitude. Our stories need to be told. While my experience was difficult, that needn’t be the case for the next generation. Hopefully, this inequality will fade into the history books and my future children will wonder what all the fuss was about.

View the Gallery: Tap any thumbnail to enlarge

>See the full portfolio at TheKids.GabrielaHerman.com

The post The Kids: A Photographic Study of Children of Gay Parents appeared first on BEST SELF.

Artist Riley Johndonnell is creating art with a cause — bridging the gap between ‘me’ and ‘we’ — shining an optimistic light on the world, one brush stroke at a time

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Conceptual artist, art-preneur, social activist and uber-optimist G. Riley Johndonnell, also know as Uncle Riley, believes that creativity, collaboration and color, sprinkled with optimism can transform the world.

And as a matter of fact, optimism IS a color — one Johndonnell created in collaboration with Pantone Color Institute (‘INT-O Yellow’, Pantone 108c, to be exact). Seriously, how cool is that?! It’s a color with a cause: To share Optimism with others while raising awareness of depression and shining a light on suicide prevention among artists. And who couldn’t use a gallon of that to-go?

This is an optimist on a mission. Johndonnell has created numerous collaborative efforts, engaging both artists and community, and something tells me, he won’t stop until he has painted the town — make that world — yellow. Paint on creative one, paint on!

I create public and personal works which seek to convert blight to light, generate positive energy and to create opportunities and tools for transformative collaborations. Optimism is not about avoiding reality, it is about (y)our perception of it. We are witnessing Optimism as an emerging ‘Ism’ — a movement of people who want to create a brighter Now and a brighter Tomorrow. People who want to do more than just hope, rather they are collectively inventing a New Paradigm by turning ‘Optimism into Action.’ It’s about evolving from ‘ME’ to ‘WE.’ This is a dialogue of Belief and Doubt, Light and Dark, Present and Future.

G. Riley Johndonnell

View the Gallery: Tap any image to enlarge

Learn more at UMEWE.org

You may also enjoy reading Francisco de Pajaro | Art Is Trash by Peter Occhiogrosso

The post Cause. Collaboration. Color. | Riley Johndonnell Spreads Optimism Through Color appeared first on BEST SELF.

For artist and founder of the ‘funism’ movement Norm Magnusson, painting leaves, rocks, and other natural artifacts is a celebration of their beauty

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This project began in 2008 when my family and I were touring the southern state of Kerala in India.  It was three memorable weeks of travelling from the mountains to the backwaters to the beach and all points in between. At one point, we stayed at the Marari Beach resort on the Arabian Sea, a lovely place with wonderful facilities — but no watercolor paper. When I travel, I always bring my watercolors with me to make little paintings of local leaves and whatnot.

I’d been looking for watercolor paper in every town we had visited, but with no luck. And while the hotel staff was happy to supply me with as much printer paper as I wanted, it’s just not the same. It doesn’t have the same weight as watercolor paper; it dimples when wet and generally just isn’t satisfying to paint on.

So I went to the pool. A gorgeous big pool, surrounded by chairs and tables and places for tourists to sit and relax while reading their holiday suspense novels. And there, by our little perch in the back corner of the pool, were the most beautiful big dried leaves that had fallen from a poolside shade tree.

They seemed perfect to paint on. So that’s what I did.

At the end of our stay, I packed up those painted Indian leaves and brought them home. I thought maybe I would frame them up and give them as gifts, but despite my careful (read: haphazard) packing, the paint was all crumbled off of them by the time we got back to Woodstock. I thought that was the end of that, at least until our next vacation. That’s when the seed that had sprouted in India began to grow in America.

That next summer, we went to visit my dad in South Carolina and there, in his front yard, lying on the ground by a big pine tree was this nice, big, sturdy leaf that was a lot like those leaves in India that hadn’t survived the trip home. I’m not sure what kind of leaf it was, but it seemed perfect for my needs, so I brought it inside and broke out the watercolors.

Dots have been a key motif in my paintings for as long as I’ve been an artist, so it was not surprising that I felt like painting dots on this leaf. I liked the way it turned out and this time around, instead of keeping the actual leaf as the art piece, I wanted to have a photo of it as the art piece, a record of it, as the leaf itself and the watercolors I’d painted on it would crumble off or dissolve back into the earth soon enough. So I took it back to where I found it and photographed it.

The colored dots reminded me of a clown costume. I imagined it as the leaf of a fictional clown tree and gave it that title. Adding the title added a level of conceptual interest that made me think, all of a sudden, that this could be the beginning of a very interesting art project.

To date, I’ve finished about 150 of these little “interventions with nature”. When I create one, I put it up on my blog, which is a great way to keep track of them and also to share them. The blog has attracted considerable attention over the years. You can see myriad articles and interviews, reposts and exhibitions here: DecoratingNature.Blogspot.com

The series started out as a vehicle for colors and fun but immediately became, for me, a series with a deeper resonance about mankind’s complicated relationship with nature. 

We use nature how we see fit: we strive to bring order to it, we try to make it prettier, we try to make it more profitable. Some efforts succeed; some do not.

My ‘Decorating Nature’ series is all about those things ­— but also about beauty. For me, beauty is the friend of consideration. If a picture is pretty, the viewer will spend more time with it. If a viewer spends more time with it, they will begin to think beyond the surface of it and, perhaps, begin to consider the deeper meaning of it.

Lastly, this series is meant to be fun. I hope those who see it feel that it is.

View the Gallery: Click any thumbnail below

To view an online viewbook of Norm’s work, click here.

You may also enjoy reading Seeing Hearts And Finding Self Through Art by Lisa Horst

The post Decorating Nature | A Portfolio From Artist Norm Magnusson appeared first on BEST SELF.

An exhibition project aims to dispel myths and breakdown stereotypes through art

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I was provoked and inspired to create a collective art statement — Under The Hijab Is… — as the result of my interaction with a young Syrian girl named Sara. I first met her in Hamburg, Germany on the Masterpiece tour of Project FUEL (an organization I founded in 2009). FUEL, which stands for Forward the Understanding of Every Life lesson, has a mission to bring experience to life through interactive means. When Sara shared a slice of her life, a life under the hijab, she planted the seeds for this artistic creation.

This past fall, having just completed another transformative event in the U.S. with World Merit, an organization comprised of global youth change-makers and visionaries, I sat on the flight home and read an article that grabbed my attention. It conveyed how many young people were being brainwashed into forming strong negative opinions about hijab-wearing girls and women. It was from contemplating this disturbing idea that the series was born.

I did not expect the project to grow so quickly and attract contributions from all around the world. I just wanted to do something and bring awareness to this issue. I initially tagged two very close artist friends of mine, Poornima Sukumar and Sadhna Prasad, that I knew would be equally passionate in making a difference and conveying a message through art. Their responses were powerful and left me feeling incredibly charged and hopeful — and relieved that there is a tribe of people who resonate with what I have to say.

The stereotypical image many people have of hijab-wearing women is that of a female wrapped in black cloth from head to toe. But there is so much more to it than that. I have had hijab-clad girls and women as my friends all my life and they are as cool and smart and adventurous as anyone I know.

I believe when the propaganda around us eclipses the public perceptions, when stereotypes strangle the power of peace, it is then that we must turn to art to rescue open-mindedness.

And that is because art and poetry, amongst other creative pursuits, can be largely credited for saving humanity amidst all the atrocities it has seen over the last few centuries.

In art abides grace. It has the tools to say the harshest things in a polite way, and yet create a mass impact. I turn to art (all kinds) every time I need to comfort my soul, to create calm in chaos. Each art piece in the series brings with it a unique perspective and striking impact. The artists infuse a refreshing medium of either illustration or painting to express their voice and vision.

The creations are as unique as the creators. I was particularly blown away by the work contributed by a UK-based artist, Josh Worrall. At first glance, his artwork looks like a graphic illustration; but upon further observation you suddenly realize the entire piece is created out of dots — specks of humanity coming together to form this painting, this statement. I was struck by the sheer passion he had to get this painting done — that he felt so impassioned to say something.

It is my greatest hope that this series, at its very core, is able to raise awareness about the beauty of hijab and the perspectives women who wear them have about it. This series aims to break the stereotyping of the hijab and ensure that young people don’t form strong negative opinions about people who wear the hijab. And of course, create inspiring art along way! Most importantly, I want the women who wear hijab to know that they should not give anyone the power to weigh their worth. As one of the artists, Poornima Sukumar says…

“May the stigma disappear like smoke in thin air!”

Since the series commenced, I have received heartwarming messages from the women who wear hijab about how much strength they derive from seeing beautiful images created in their likeness. I have also heard from husbands of these women from countries as distant as Iraq who have written me to show their support.

I feel some things need to be spoken about. Sometimes we need to take a stand in whatever way we can — and this is certainly one of those things. May this series crack open the space for inclusiveness by highlighting the beauty of diversity. May it inspire others to use their art, their paintbrushes, and their creativity to express their voices to break down stereotypes.

Make art — break stereotypes!

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You may also enjoy reading Recipes for Self Love: Caring for Your Inner (and Outer) Feminist by Alison Rachel

The post Under The Hijab Is… | Making Art, Breaking Stereotypes appeared first on BEST SELF.

Photographer Allan Tannenbaum’s latest book, Grit & Glamour, showcases the street style, high fashion and icons of the 1970’s

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Prologue

by Allan Tannenbaum

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When I first started photographing in the mid-1960s, I had no idea what I wanted to do or where it would take me. San Francisco was a good place to learn, however, with a city rec center where you could develop your film and make prints for a $10 yearly membership. The city itself was photogenic, and with the advent of the hippie scene and inexpensive rock shows there were plenty of visuals.

Foreign films were a passion for me, and while finishing my BA in art at Rutgers University, I saw Michelangelo Antonioni’s first English-language film, Blow-Up. I was fascinated with the lifestyle of fashion photographer Thomas, played by the late David Hemmings, and I liked that he did documentary work as well. After I saw the film twice more, the die was cast. This was what I wanted to do. For my graduation I even got a Hasselblad 500C camera, like the one Thomas used in the film.

While studying filmmaking as a graduate student at San Francisco State, I used that Hasselblad and my 35mm camera to take still photographs. The first time I brought my camera to a rock concert was a Jimi Hendrix show at Winterland in 1968. But when I went back to New York, it took me a few years to find photo work, and the job I landed as an assistant in a fashion studio lasted exactly half a day. Not until I became the chief photographer at the Soho Weekly News in 1973 did the universe of New York City open up for me. SoHo was really an art center back then, and the paper covered the art world, the music scene, nightlife, showbiz, politics, and fashion. Soon I got a loft where I could set up a photo studio. The ’70s were a very hedonistic time, and people dressed the part, whether they were on the street or at the latest club.

Annie Flanders (who later founded Details magazine) became our style editor, and she stressed that style and fashion were two different things. One could have lots of style without worrying about up-to-the-minute fashion trends. On a person without style, fashions could look ridiculous.

In my photo coverage, I made sure to notice how people looked in terms of what they wore and the message they were trying to convey with their style and attitude.

Whether the subject was young Latinos in Central Park, rock bands backstage, or trendies in the clubs, capturing the style of the moment was essential. Looks of the era were eclectic, from nostalgic to modern, but the overriding ethos seemed to be an individualistic notion of style that fit with the ever-changing trends. You can see this in the faux glamour of Studio 54, the funky look of downtown artists and scene-makers at the Mudd Club, and the nascent punk style of CBGB on the Bowery.

New designers sprang from this fertile ground downtown, with styles and shows that were truly avant-garde. Betsey Johnson was a seminal figure in this new scene, and her clothes and shows had an exuberance that you don’t find today. Fiorucci also had this sense of color and fun, and a designer like Larry LeGaspi was way ahead of his time. The way fashion shows were presented in venues including Studio 54 and Bond’s and even the Mudd Club generated excitement and fun, especially compared to the staid, formulaic shows of today.

Alas, the Soho News folded in March 1982. I had had eight years of Blow-Up. My 1960s bell-bottoms and T-shirts had given way to shiny double-breasted satin jackets, which gave way to skinny mod ties. It was time to move on with my photography, but I had amassed an extensive archive of how the denizens of

New York City presented themselves visually to the world.

The Parallel Style Lines of Grit and Glamour

By Peter Occhiogrosso

The sense of unresolved mystery that fascinated Allan Tannenbaum about the film Blow-Up may have been what led him to eschew the glitzy world of fashion photography for the grittier reality of photojournalism. But truth be told, he was never really game for that kind of work. His first day on the job as an assistant to a fashion photographer, he listened to the man talk about how much money he was making, but he found the work tedious. “‘This isn’t for me,’ I said. And the guy fired me.” Tannenbaum did some work for a wire service, but they complained that he used his wide-angle lens too much. There was always the option of street photography, the general idea being to catch people off guard in ways made famous by the likes of Henri Cartier-Bresson and Garry Winograd. But he never much cared for that approach either.

“I realized that as much as I like to go out in the street and take pictures, it’s not primarily to make art,” Tannenbaum told a class in Advanced Street Photography at Manhattan’s International Center of Photography in March. “The pictures I liked to do were when I had an assignment, when I had a story to do, or when there was an event. And I like to tell the story. It’s pretty much straight-ahead documentary.”

One day in 1973 he stopped to get gas in Brooklyn, but the station was so overcrowded because of the Arab oil embargo that he couldn’t get in. Instead, he jumped up on the roof of his car and shot the whole chaotic scene. Newsweek bought his photo, ran it across the page as the lead, and he had found his calling. Not that it’s always so easy to get those “straight-ahead” shots; you have to have a passion for it.

And sometimes sharp elbows help. I was at the Mudd Club one night in 1981 to see a new wave synth-pop band called Shox Lumania, and the place was packed tighter than that Brooklyn gas station. I had worked my way through the crowd as close as I could get to the minimal stage. The Mudd was famous for having a main floor innocent of chairs, tables, or anywhere to sit, so the audience all pressed together, making it hard to maneuver for a decent view. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me backwards, and heard a voice say, “Watch out, I’m coming through.” I spun around ready to push back, but the other guy was half a foot taller than me. He also had a familiar face. I recognized Allan, brandishing his camera as he passed me by without comment and made his way to the front of the stage — something I’d been unable to do. But Allan was like that.

He wasn’t being nasty about it; he just needed to get that shot. And he did.

In the 1970s and early ‘80s, when Tannenbaum and I served as photo editor and music editor, respectively, of the Soho Weekly News, we covered much of the same territory — from Max’s and CBGB to Studio 54 and the Roxy, sometimes meeting up at after hours joints like the Mudd Club or Area later that same night (or morning). Grit and Glamour features hundreds of Allan’s color and black and white photographs — a comprehensive archive of pictures that tell the story of two worlds. A thriving indie fashion scene was growing up and flourishing in SoHo and Downtown Manhattan alongside the raunchy, in-your-face ethos of those downtown punk clubs, while in the parallel realm of uptown glitz at Studio 54, the big name couturiers who designed for its patrons were holding sway.

Designers from both worlds also drew on New York’s vibrant, unpredictable street styles in subtle and direct ways that are only now becoming apparent. In the 1970s and early ‘80s, the city was a confluence of diverging styles and looks, of music and nightlife that combined more creative elements in more intriguing ways than perhaps at any time before or since. On a single night during that span, you could hear the whole history of rock and roll, including retro ‘50s sounds, revamped rockabilly, R&B bands, and the blues; the mainstream rock of the Stones and the Who at the Garden; punk outrage and new wave synthesis, from the Plasmatics and Richard Hell to DEVO and Blondie; British imports like the Clash, the Cure, and David Bowie; and disco divas Gloria Gaynor, Donna Summer, and the inimitable Grace Jones. And, in various parts of town, the emerging sounds of hip-hop, rap, and reggae were on display, often by their originators, such as Fab Five Freddy, Bob Marley, and Steel Pulse.

At the same time — often on the same day — you could see the clothing styles that went with all that music. There were Halston and Calvin Klein hanging out at Studio 54 with Bianca, Liz, Andy, and all the usual suspects. Across town the Italian designer Elio Fiorucci opened a store down the block from Bloomingdale’s that became known as the “daytime Studio 54,” with its gold lamé cowboy boots, vinyl stretch jeans, new wave music, and models dancing in the windows.

Meanwhile, independent designers were living and working downtown, outside the reach of the strobe lights and booming sound systems, generating styles that pushed the outside of the fashion envelope until it almost exploded.

Crazed animal prints, skewed geometrics, polka dots, and every kind of stretch fabric were put to stunning use by not only Betsey Johnson, but imaginative innovators like Natasha Adonzio, Valerie Porr, and Isaia Rankin as well. Adonzio was the first designer to hold fashion shows at the Mudd Club, Hurrah, and other music venues. According to Janel Bladow, who wrote about style for the Soho Weekly News, a show by Adonzio or the SoHo Designers was not so much a fashion show as an event, a party, and the more outrageous, the better. “In place of the usual staid catwalk shows,” Bladow says, “designers like Natasha put on performances! The models looked a bit like Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust — tall, thin, red-lipped, with smoky eyes and spiky hair. Her clothes were all skintight, made with clingy, stretchy fabric, lots of edgy short skirts, and tops that sometimes bared the models’ nipples.”

Although I loved the Mudd Club for its danceable music mix and no-frills dance floor, I hadn’t known about the daytime fashion shows until later. Allan, though, was seemingly always on the job. Shooting not just music and nightlife but also fashions, celebrities, and just plain folks. He has a style of taking pictures that is deceptively simple — occasionally candid, but often with the subject looking right at you. If they knew he was taking their picture, fine. If not, he took it anyway. That declarative, documentary style marks his best work. One shot near the end of the book is of a young worker in the Garment District, clad only in sneakers, jeans, and an open denim jacket with cut-off sleeves and no undershirt, pulling a rack of remarkably ordinary-looking women’s coats. Like his outfit, he is all business, and without breaking stride he glares at the camera as if to say, “You think this is easy?”

View the Gallery: Tap any image to enlarge

You may also enjoy reading Jazz & Spirituality | The Mindful Music of Jack DeJohnette by Peter Occhiogrosso

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Stella and the work, muse and creative journey of artist Charles Benton

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Being invited into an artist’s studio is a slice of something sacred. You feel it wrap around you the moment you step in, and with part awe and inspiration, its creativity transports you.

The arc of artist Charles Benton has the makings of all things Best Self. After studying art in Rome, fashion design in London and a successful 20-year career in fashion design for prominent companies, he found himself at a crossroads in both his professional and personal lives. Having recently moved across the country from California to the Hudson Valley of upstate New York and telecommuting with his employer — he received a call, they wanted him back. These are the kinds of moments when we need to dig deep and heed the inner calling of our soul’s journey.

Familiarity and financial security, or a leap into the arms of vulnerability and the unknown? The terrifyingly delightful unknown please!

Of course it doesn’t hurt to have the loving support of a partner who says, You have wanted to do this your whole life. The time is now. Go for it. And by the way, we are transforming our dining room into your art studio.

And the rest is the ever-unfolding, enchanting journey of Charles Benton…

The moment I entered their home, I was pulled into the studio. As golden afternoon light bathed the room, the view overlooking the mighty Hudson River below and the Catskill Mountains in the distance captivated me — it was the most glorious space from which to create. With a table in the center of the room neatly lined with jars of colored pencils, ink pens and sketchpads, I tiptoed around feeling as if I was being given access to something quite intimate and private. It told a story. The walls were lined with drawings haphazardly taped about and in the corner sat a curiously weathered and worn chair of some stature. When Charles caught me glancing upon it, he told me, It was my father’s.

I would learn that his father, with whom he had been extremely close and whom had been tremendously supportive of his creative journey, had also only recently passed away. There in this studio of creation was a culmination of each experience that had led Charles to here, to this moment, to these new works of art he was birthing. The juxtaposition of old and new, and all the pieces, stories and parts in between converged in creativity.

Charles doesn’t sugarcoat his process. He recounts how the unknown can deem one powerless, paralyzed by fear…but he is also testament to what is possible when we keep stretching beyond the limitations of our own minds. And then once out on the other side of our experience, hindsight in its infinite wisdom, chastises us for not getting here sooner. And yet, he believes it has all unfolded precisely as it was meant to.

It takes a decision, a decision on behalf of your passion. Charles chose to leap. He removed the chandelier from the dining room and set up his studio. But then more importantly, he got down to business and began creating — a drawing a day. At first he didn’t know where it was leading, until he did.

Drawing, sketching, creating… and then she emerged: Stella.

His whimsical muse came forth in all of her large-eyed wonder and whimsy. Even then, he wasn’t quite sure why she was here, what he was going to do with her, but he continued to dress her. In one such drawing, he drew her in the latest couture from the Valentino runway, an elaborate construction as only the House of Valentino could provide.

The beauty emerges in that space of vulnerability and possibility — when we release from the attachment to outcome. It is within that space when we bare a part of ourselves and at our deepest core we yearn for a sign asking, Am I on the right path? That sign came very quickly to Charles when that particular post of Stella in her Valentino coat suddenly appeared upon the Instagram feed of MaisonValentino… and suddenly had 27K views and counting.

Yes, a star (or a Stella) was born.

“Wake up every morning with the thought and feeling that something wonderful is about to happen! Thoughts are things, so why not surround ourselves with positive ones every day!”

Charles Benton

Learn more at CharlesHartBenton.studio

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You may also enjoy reading Following The Doodle: An Artist’s Journey Of Reclaiming A Long-Forgotten Passion by Barbara Laurie

The post A Stella Was Born | Illustrator Charles Benton appeared first on BEST SELF.

Jenny Nelson’s art derives less from inspiration and more from showing up, dedicated work and surrendering to the process.

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I always knew I wanted to create something. I declared in second grade that I would go to art school and become an artist. At that age, my mother says, I communicated best by drawing. Ask me a question and I would answer in shapes and lines.

What I didn’t know, of course, was how long and winding the path would be to my current home studio.

After graduating college, a little late, the challenge was how to show up and do the work on my own time. I didn’t have a permanent studio, so there were a lot of make shift spaces. But I found there was no substitute for continuous art-making. So I would set up a studio just about anywhere: an old garage, an attic, barn, someone’s spare room. It took an enormous amount of committed studio time to begin to develop work that was strong and unique to me. For that reason, I have always loved this quote from Chuck Close:

…Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work. If you wait around for the clouds to part and a bolt of lightning to strike you in the brain, you are not going to make an awful lot of work. All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself. Things occur to you. If you’re sitting around trying to dream up a great art idea, you can sit there a long time before anything happens. But if you just get to work, something will occur to you and something else will occur to you and something else that you reject will push you in another direction. Inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive. You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case.

 Another challenge for me was accepting my natural work schedule. It seemed I could not make it to my studio until the afternoon, and then I would paint through dinner and into the early evening. I still do this today. Morning is for emails, office work, making lists, clearing my plate for studio time. I spent years beating myself up about my timing. I thought I was always late to the studio and that I was procrastinating terribly. This turned out to not be true. When I finally accepted my natural schedule, I realized that I was really disciplined. I did show up and I did make the paintings, lots of them.

Looking back I can see the dedication it took to show up and develop my work, to override self-doubt, and to face the turbulent ups and downs that is the creative process. I had a very slow curve of confidence building.

In the studio on any given day: I don’t know how to do this. A nap on the couch. Action. Aha! A breakthrough. Hope. I feel like I have never done this before. The bliss of solitude. I’m lost. Despair. I found something! I want to leave. I’m ready to give up. I’m staying. This is getting somewhere.

For me, painting is a collaboration between myself and the materials. A conversation starts that has a beginning and an end, but everything in between is unpredictable. At first some exciting things show up, vigorous lines and lots of color, but I try to disregard these initial, too beautiful bursts, work over them, and develop something deeper. As the painting evolves, shapes and lines solidify, and I begin to see how the parts affect the whole.

By layering, adding and subtracting, a kind of history develops on the canvas. Shapes have a story to tell. Lines that have been obliterated and resurrected over and over again have an emotional charge. What started as a wild party ends up as a contemplative, carefully edited composition, involving precise modifications, while hopefully leaving some life force in tact.

This process mystifies me. Although I am always in some phase of a painting, I’m so in it that it’s as if I can’t recognize the familiar steps. It is unknown to me what is really happening while the paint is being applied and taken away. The decisions that are made are not quite of this world, not meant to be completely understood.

What I have discovered is courage — the courage to show up and go deep into the work.

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You may also enjoy Following The Doodle: An Artist’s Journey Of Reclaiming A Long-Forgotten Passion by Barbara Laurie

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Darkness Fuels A Mission Of Hope For Artist Alix Lambert

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There are films. Plays. Photographs. Sculptures. Books. Illustrations. Music. Cartoons. The list goes on… How does one make sense of the wildly diverse talents of Brooklyn-based artist Alix Lambert? I will admit, it took me a bit of time to get my head wrapped around it all. Her work had been on my radar after first being introduced to it by friend. As I initially researched this complex body of work I was sure I had been misdirected to multiple artists; that something was clearly lost in translation. The confusion was in my not recognizing that Alix Lambert is simply to be deemed a great storyteller. And to that point, a great storyteller has many ways to tell a story. As it turns out, her multi-disciplinary approach is a natural product of her broad-spectrum training in art school…that and her own brand of creative genius, of course.

Sketches from criminal trial courtrooms. Click an image to view larger:

When I finally connected with Alix on Skype, I was immediately drawn to her passion, vibrancy and youthful light-heartedness — a stark contrast to her moody, sometimes seemingly ‘heavy’ art. To her, the varied mediums are neither disconnected nor arbitrary. In fact, the opposite is true — she mindfully chooses the medium that best communicates the story she is crafting. In some cases, Alix will even choose multiple mediums in order to meet the audience where their comfort level lies. For example, she is currently producing a multi-dimensional project that will include a book, an app, and a documentary — each telling the same story, but with a different emphasis within each medium.

While Alix’s work can feel dark, it is not a reflection of her outlook; rather it is a reflection of the realities of the plights her subjects face. She has tackled the accused (whether rightly or wrongly), the incarcerated, and even the nearly extinct. The city of Cincinnati enjoyed a bittersweet 15 minutes of fame in 2014 when Martha, the last passenger pigeon on the planet passed away in the Cincinnati Zoo. In response, Alix produced and illustrated a short film entitled Martha, in collaboration with animator/editor Brian Young and musician Michael Friedman.

View the short film, Martha:

Her most recent project, The Mark Of Cain (a biblical reference to the branding of the first murderer), is both a riveting photography book with an essay by Scott Macaulay, and a re-release of an investigative documentary film she shot 15 years ago, which is included with the book on a DVD. The work explores the lives and vanishing tattoo art within some of Russia’s most notorious prisons. It is remarkable in itself that Alix could gain such intimate access to these prisoners — a testament to her resolve when it comes to a pursuit of passion. Devoid of judgment, her work not only showcases the tattoos for their cultural significance, she portrays the inmates as humans worthy of compassion.

A preview of the first 9 minutes of The Mark Of Cain:

Another project, Crime: The Animated Series, is a collection of animated short films, each depicting the personal stories of a criminal, or someone affected by crime, whom actually narrates the film. The films convey a visceral context of the environments surrounding the subjects and occasionally, the psychology behind the crimes. The animated treatment lightens (somewhat) the difficult subject matter, making it a bit easier to digest.

View one of the series of Crime: The Animated Series:

In yet another body of work, a photographic portfolio entitled Rwanda, Alix turns her lens on a women-run coffee bean farm, celebrating the sustainable and empowering work of these remarkable women, who are beating the economic odds in an embattled microcosm of Africa.

Click an image to view the Rwanda portfolio gallery:

One example of Alix’s multi-media approach is her exploration of inner-city boxing culture. Inspired by the ‘training tools’ of the sport, she created ceramic sculptures of a speedball and gloves, and also composed a piece of music which incorporates the rhythmic sounds of the gyms, created by these same tools. Listen to this song, The Liberian Boxing Team, which is part of Alix’s eclectic album Running After Deer, created with Travis Dickerson:

So — how to make sense of all these seemingly disparate endeavors? After talking with Alix and hearing her motivations for each, it became clear: The singular thread that weaves her work together is the evolution of humanity. Alix strives to be a voice of those who cannot express their own voices — those who have been silenced, shunned, imprisoned, or marginalized by society. And she does so with great hope that with a modicum of compassion and understanding, perhaps we may all become a bit less judgmental and more proactive for social change, and that those that may otherwise follow the destructive paths of some of her subjects, might find a more productive path before it is too late.

You may also enjoy Architecture and Humanity | The Conscious Urbanism of Kunlé Adeyemi by Bill Miles

The post Alix Lambert | The Unspoken Voice appeared first on BEST SELF.

Jeanette MacDonald’s brilliant artwork exudes whimsy, soul, and optimism — fueled by her ongoing creative journey and inner exploration

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As a six-year-old, I had a spiritual experience (artistically speaking). My first grade teacher told us to draw a house. Pretty simple, right? I drew a triangle, a chimney with ‘happy’ smoke plumes billowing out, and the usual windows and doors. I felt quite proud of my creation. I even drew a path meandering up to the house. I colored the windows a sunny yellow, to give it a happy feeling. I must say, I felt quite proud of my masterpiece.

My classmates did not share my enthusiasm. They laughed at me, shouting that houses are not triangular. My teacher didn’t miss a beat. She asked if I had drawn the A-frame on the hill. I can’t remember if that was true or not, but I gratefully accepted her gift and proudly announced to the class that yes, indeed that is what I had done.

That early childhood experience taught me a beautiful life lesson: Creativity — in whatever form sparks your passion — is our greatest gift from our Creator.

I am so thankful for that teacher; she was the reason I began believing I had an artist’s soul. She taught me to be open and empathetic to the sensitive emotional heart that artists bring to canvas. She also gave me the courage to express my unique point of view and to share my art with others.

I had a tough childhood… no doubt about it. Some of us are called to experience more than others, and I come from a long line of family members who struggled. Some did not make it, dying young or battling life until the end. One thing I now know is that we all did the best we could. My personal struggles led me to use my art as a path to healing and self-discovery.

Some years ago, I read The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron. She introduced me to the practice of writing morning pages as a way to learn how to go deeper. I started to use writing and my art as tangible ways to put my best foot forward every day. I still do morning pages, practice gratitude, and read my inspirational books (Marianne Williamson’s A Year of Miracles, being one of those books).

Six years ago, we sold our house in Victoria to Nick Bantock, the author of the Griffin and Sabine Trilogy. I became friends with Nick and his wife, Joyce. One day after talking about his artwork, I made a spontaneous decision to sign up for his mixed-media workshop. Nick showed me the bountiful array of mediums available to create art — especially for collage pieces. It was like a gate swung open and my heart started to pour out my feelings onto the canvas. I was like a kid in the candy store!

I’m a believer in manifesting the life and experiences we desire.

One such amazing experience involves a Hay House Writer’s Workshop. In June of last year, I was on my way to Maui (where I got married ten years earlier) to see my personal hero, Dr. Wayne Dyer. I was over-the-moon excited about this trip. But at the airport, with our bags already checked, my friend called to tell us our dog (fur-baby) was not doing well, and we needed to come home. Sadly, Wayne died shortly afterwards, and I never did get to see him.

In September, my friend Laura invited me to join her in New York to attend another Hay House Writer’s Workshop. Here’s where it gets weird (in a cool way). Two seats over from us was a girl from Hawaii that I recognized. It turned out she was the makeup and hair stylist who made me beautiful for my wedding in Maui ten years earlier. It was as if the Universe (and even Wayne) were telling me: “You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

I’m a big faith person. I have come to believe that behind every obstacle, better things await us if we can give up the control over how something is supposed to play out. When we allow ourselves to be divinely led, amazing things can happen. My art is a manifestation of this belief.

Click on an image to view the Gallery below:

You may also enjoy The Fine Art of Julie Sass by Amanda Church

The post Ravens & Roses | A Creative Journey appeared first on BEST SELF.

Drawn to a life of creativity, artist Benjamin Shine crafts sublime installations working with tulle

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It was a sight to behold. The single black line ran from one side of the wall to the other before trailing down over the skirting board and ending in a mass of black fingerprints on the floor. It was an absolute masterpiece, though my parents remember it as more of a costly oversight on their part — the result of leaving me, a curious 2-year-old, unattended for a mere moment with an open makeup bag.

Thankfully, that early curiosity and instinct to draw has lead to a career of creativity. Following my fashion design studies in London, I became disillusioned at the prospect of designing ideas for a disposable trend-based market. Instead, I began to focus on ways to use fabric and other materials as a communicative medium to express broader ideas and challenge perceptions.

Benjamin Shine discusses his magnificent wedding “gift”

To date, I’ve painted, plastered, sewn, sawn, glued, drilled, and sculpted my way through countless projects for numerous markets, using myriad materials. Throughout this journey, fabric has always remained at the core. Currently, my main focus is on my tulle work, where my interest lies in using the delicate material to express ideas of energy and transience. In these artworks, a single length of tulle reveals a portrait or the suggestion of an image within its flowing form, as if capturing a fleeting moment in time.

I developed the tulle technique after noticing an old remnant of crumpled tulle on the floor of my studio. The beauty of tones created by the folds in the fabric intrigued me, and I wondered if those pleats could be manipulated to form a recognizable image. Eventually, I found a way by pressing and pleating a length of the material into a shape with an iron. It took a couple of years to refine my skills, especially becoming accustomed to ”painting” with a household iron, but it’s now second nature (although strangely, I still can’t iron a shirt properly).

The artist, discussing his work with the medium of tulle

My latest large-scale installation has been a true test of my own creative ability. It’s also been a great lesson in reminding me of the importance of remaining open to the potential of the subject at hand. Over recent years, I noticed the success of my tulle work had begun to deter me from developing it further. I’d grown to believe I’d found the only worthwhile technique this material could offer.

When I received an invitation to create a large-scale public installation, I knew it had to be in tulle but had no idea how to make it. I decided to reassess my beliefs and essentially start from scratch – to forget what I knew and to question what else this material could become and convey. The end result came as a huge surprise to me. I discovered several new techniques, which have opened up some entirely new avenues to explore.

A silent exploration of his installation, Dance

I believe limiting our beliefs prevents us from realizing our own potential. It can deter us from even trying something new, but therein lies the opportunity to learn, discover, and grow – and, we hope, be surprised by the outcome. Creativity can be a mysterious thing, but accessing its limitless resources is not a mystery. Through an attitude of playfulness, curiosity, and questioning, ideas can flourish and new avenues can open up. Being creative and bringing ideas to life is a profoundly rewarding experience and a seriously satisfying feeling. However, that feeling rarely lasts long enough, as soon another idea takes hold and a new adventure begins!

Click an image below to view the gallery:

Learn more at: benjaminshine.com

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A talk between two artists: Amanda Church interviews Julie Sass

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As a way of introducing Danish artist Julie Sass to the Best Self readership, I would like to begin by saying what a true believer in her work I am. Julie’s investigation of abstraction has never ceased to fascinate me. There is something light to her mark-making, similar to the paintings of Mary Heilmann, and yet there is a perceptible profundity at the same time. Julie’s paintings evoke myriad associations while remaining staunchly formal and rigorous. I am the proud owner of one of her paintings and it continues to transport me to a seemingly infinite number of different realms. Here, we discuss a bit of Julie’s history as an artist, including her time in New York and how that compares to growing up and attending art school in Copenhagen. ~ Amanda Church

AC: Julie, let’s begin at the beginning, when we first met each other. Were you studying at NYU at that time?

As far as I remember, it was the year after I graduated from NYU, in 2001. I was working with Jon Hendricks filing Fluxus scores and such, and doing set design for theater in Manhattan. My studio was in Brooklyn. I had seen your work in a show in 1999 or 2000…so, I met your work before I met you. There were lots of great openings back then at Pierogi 2000 (the first of many galleries to open in Williamsburg, Brooklyn), and I remember one time when we chatted away up on the roof there.

AC: You were working with some great people at the time, right? Artists, art historians, writers, all of whom are still relevant today. Can you say a bit about that experience? I know Saul Ostrow was part of this influence on the way you think and look at art. Who else had a similar degree of influence on you and your work?

Saul Ostrow led the MFA program at NYU in 1998-99, when I first moved to NY to study. He also taught Art Theory. I remember that NYU was sort of shutting painting down at that time and Saul was great. He gave me a list of artists to talk to about painting, who all had various and significant impact on what I was doing at that time. It is also important to mention my fellow students from that time since many of them have significant careers as artists today, and we remain close friends. I had a lot of catching up to do in New York, because our Danish system is just so different. I had not really studied academics the way you do in the States, but I had experience in practical things, such as putting up shows, and I had already begun showing my own work.

AC: And you had come to NYC from Copenhagen, where you grew up and studied art before NYU? Can you pinpoint any significant differences in approaches to teaching or formulating ideas? How did the exposure to what was happening in the NY art scene at the time shape you and your work?

When I was a student in Copenhagen, The Royal Danish Academy of Fine Art purveyed a laissez-faire way of studying. Still, you can get a lot out of that approach, and all the studios were open day and night. There were several workshops, one of which was in making paint, which I was really in to. I used oil and tempera back then. I started in 1994, the year before I studied Social Studies at Roskilde University for a year. This came after having traveled intensively in Latin America and worked various jobs alongside getting my first studio.

The change in coming to New York was amazing, and it was at just the right time for me, being hungry after seeing lots of art and studying art theory, art history, and actually all other kinds of subjects that were part of NYU at that time, such as Fiction Writing. The contrast with Copenhagen was enormous.

I felt extremely energized just by being in NY, but I was also consumed by the never-ending things I constantly felt I needed to keep up with.

It is hard to say exactly what it was that formed my work — so many things happened back then – Many of the people I studied with are interesting people and great artists with whom I have stayed in close contact. I was also invited to be part of an art group led by the artist Steel Stillman and that was a great experience. We saw shows and discussed them, and I have always been interested in the different viewpoints and the arguments that can arise from those kinds of discussions. Not to delve too deeply into philosophy, but it was what Kant in the Aesthetic Judgement was writing about, which is always to keep the perspective of the other.

AC: Around that time, you were showing with Susanne Hojriis Gallery in Copenhagen, and I think it was in 2003 when you curated “A Way of Thinking,” an exhibition I was so happy to be in and that marked my first trip to Copenhagen. Can you describe the concept for that project and how it related to your own work?

That was actually in 2002 and it was the second show I curated, titled A Way Of Thinking (Painting and Objects). The show as a whole was dealing with various ways of approaching abstract painting, which was what I was engaged with. I installed it based on associations, one thing leading to the next, similar to a way of thinking.

AC: Tell me some of the significant things that happened after that; developments in your painting, exhibitions, etc. You are always doing so much and it’s so impressive. I know that now you maintain your own studio practice and are very productive, you have shows, you curate shows, you teach, you travel, you are raising two wonderful daughters – wait, am I forgetting anything?

Thank you! Some of my most significant projects include the following.

The exhibition Hungry Eyes, curated by the artist Monica Tap in 2002 in Canada, was an incredible experience. It was my first time speaking in public and I presented all new works – having worked right up till the last minute before my firstborn Edith came. She was 2 months old when I gave the talk, which was not my best performance since I was so sleep-deprived, but still, I learned from that.

Shaped by Time was very significant museum project I organized in Copenhagen in 2012, and it continues to stay with me. It was a show of contemporary art embedded in the museum’s pre-historic section. The works were installed in conjunction with artifacts, skeletons…findings since the Ice Age. I am so grateful for all the time the people at the National Museum spent talking to me, to my co-curator Milena Høgsberg, and to the all the other artists. I have never before been had the opportunity to participate so profoundly in the practice of a museum.

Untitled, Miami was a solo project of my work during Art Basel in 2013, where I also launched JS II, Revolver Publishing. This was really good timing because so many interesting people were in town for the art fair.

In fact, since last year’s ID-Visual Identity, my solo show in Puerto Rico and subsequent solo show in Miami, I have been trying out some new ideas both in terms of the focus on subject matter and the work itself, which in some ways has become simultaneously more simple and complex. The work has been made with regard to a specific situation. In Puerto Rico, where I did a residency leading up to the show, I really had to trust the process and go with it because many of the works were made on site. I have been in Puerto Rico before to visit the artist Ivelisse Jiménez, but hadn’t stayed there to work. It was an experiment, which I am ready to do again. It is hard to say what was most inspiring in terms of making the art work there, but I believe Puerto Rico has an incredible energy, rhythm, and light, which is something I like to draw from in my mind. Things there follow their own path, autonomously and somehow against the current, which is something I really appreciate.

AC: I want mention your last curatorial project (years in the making) with your two co-curators, the art historian Courtney J. Martin and artist Bodil Nielsen. This exhibition (which I was thrilled to be included in) was titled “Minimal Baroque” and was the equivalent of a museum show in its scope and precept. The show featured 18 international artists including Donald Judd and Jo Baer, and received many positive reviews from newspapers and magazines in Denmark, Britain, and the U.S., and then a year later a wonderful catalog was published, which I know you worked very hard on as well. I’m not exaggerating when I say that you manage to get an unbelievable number of things done while still keeping your own work front and center. Would you care to offer any insights into the secrets of your successful multitasking, for lack of a better word?

Thank you!!!

I collaborate. I have great colleagues. I have a great family.

I take notes. I almost never watch TV. I cook fast.

Clearly shows do not happen by themselves. I try to stay focused and keep working, along with some kind of faith that the ideas you form are actually good ideas. Some of that energy comes from the fact I believed that those shows needed to be curated. Curating Shaped by Time at the National Museum in Copenhagen was a huge undertaking. It was in the works for three years and included a publication. In addition to this, I have had a few artists’ books published by Revolver Publishing; the first one was in relation to that show.

The energy that many people think that children take out of their lives and careers I have never fully understood. On the contrary, I have made great friends through my daughters, and have always felt grateful to have a second chance in learning through them. Also, I believe that it is a matter of attitude.

AC: So what’s on the horizon? I know you recently had a show at Third Space in Copenhagen that encompassed some sewn pieces and also had a performative component and that this show was reviewed by British writer Allie Biswas. Can you share some of the details on this project?

Be-Bop Your Visual Acts (Shared Space) at Third Space was interesting because so many of the things I have been working on for a long time came together. The subject of Copenhagen Art Week this year was Shared Space, so I thought it was really fitting to add that to the title of my show, because that is where I think we work, in a shared space; art is a collaboration and a dialogue.

There was no performance per se, but Tomas Lagermand Lundme and I read a text we wrote in 2010, which was part of a show we curated then called Peep-Show Purple –Light. It was a great experience to do the reading (my debut) because it made a lot of sense in relation to the show and gave a new perspective on the work.

At the moment, I am looking for venues for two shows, which is an ongoing process. I would also like to challenge myself to focus on some writing, and I have some applications out for residencies. It is the first time in six years that I am not pushing a major project with my own work, so I look forward to this supposed time, and seeing what will happen.

Abstraction as Artistic Method is a recent article I wrote for a book, a collection of writings that Saul Ostrow and Critical Practices Inc. is working on of 50 or so perspectives on the subject of abstraction; I am really looking forward to reading that book!

The next museum show that my work is included in will be at Rungstedlund, the former house of our world-famous writer Karen Blixen, which is quite an interesting museum north of Copenhagen. Mørkekammer (Darkroom), the group show up at the moment, was curated by the aforementioned artist and playwright Tomas Lagermand Lundme and includes some site-specific works. Significantly, Blixen’s is a voice that speaks of the ”other,” reflecting on identity and the subconscious, which I believe is a major component in regard to making art.

Finally, I wanted to mention my experience over the last couple of years printmaking in the Faeroe Islands, specifically, making lithographs at STEINPRENT, Tórshavn. It is about as far away as you can get; it feels as if you are staying on the last cliff in the world. You see the sun only through the clouds in rays, it is misty, but this all-enclosed feeling mirrors the long process and the intensity of printmaking, and is something that also allows me to think about making painting in a new way. As Yve-Alain Bois said in Painting As Model, “the change comes from where you least expect it.” This quote seems to encompass what is ineffable about making art, which, bolstered by knowledge, theory, and experience, adds up to a somewhat transcendent experience.

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You may also enjoy Hollywoodland | The Vibrant Art of Amanda Church

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Art Is Trash: The Street Art Of Francisco de Pajaro

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The Navajo of the American Southwest and the Buddhists of Tibet share similar traditions of creating art that is meant to be ephemeral.

The Navajo create sand paintings that are symbolic representations of stories from their mythology — and immediately afterward, the remains of the painting are taken outside and returned to the earth.

The Tibetans have a ritual involving the creation of Buddhist mandalas, spiritual symbols representing the universe, made from colored sand (actually white stones ground down and dyed with colored inks to achieve the same effect). And as with the Navajo, once the Tibetan mandala is completed it is ritualistically dismantled to symbolize the Buddhist belief in the transient nature of the material world with its endless cycle of life and death.

When I first saw the street art of Francisco de Pájaro, I certainly didn’t make any mental connection to these ancient traditions. I was too busy laughing out loud at the outrageous sense of humor and often rude absurdity that Pájaro conveys by creating art out of garbage he finds on the streets of cities around the globe. In his hands, transparent trash bags filled with empty soda cans are transformed into terrified-looking figures huddled together. A dumpster loaded with useless strips of drywall and construction detritus becomes a fearsome nightmare horse that might be begging for mercy. A discarded mattress wedged against a stanchion conceals a lurking terrorist holding an Uzi, from the barrel of which protrudes… a paint roller dripping with what looks like blood.

This astonishing alchemy of the street began after an unsuccessful exhibition at a gallery in Pájaro’s native Barcelona. Feeling the frustration all too familiar to artists rejected by the conventional art world and its patrons, he found an abandoned wardrobe in the street and painted it with his slogan El arte es basura: “Art is trash.”

The story goes that a bystander started filming what he was doing, and naturally this attracted a crowd. Pájaro soon realized that by wielding a selection of marker pens and acrylics to paint on the trash itself, and using tape to make arms and legs for his figures, he could create three-dimensional works without defacing the buildings or trespassing on “private property.” Challenged by security guards, he pointed out that what he was painting on wasn’t actually private at all, since as trash it was already slated for removal. Empty boxes, wooden slabs, abandoned bathtubs and mattresses inhabited a kind of no man’s land en route to the nearest landfill.

These pieces of trash became the disposable canvases on which Pájaro worked his transitory magic.

Pájaro credits the influence of other Spanish artists, from Picasso to Dalí, and certainly their absurdist humor is apparent. But the grotesqueries he manufactures on the spot — on the run, even — remind me more of another Francisco. Two centuries ago, Goya mixed violence, sexuality, and phantasmagoria to create a memorable art that was often both hilarious and shocking.

According to London gallerist Tommy Blaquiere, who wrote the Foreword to Pájaro’s debut book, Art Is Trash, his work also reflects the influence of the 1980s Spanish comic book series Mortadelo y Filemón by Francisco Ibáñez Talavera (on which a 2003 Spanish-language film of the same name was based). And yet Pájaro’s constructions are even more ephemeral than most comic books. As the garbage trucks appear and noisily begin to haul off Pájaro’s latest creations, I can’t help thinking of those indigenous sand paintings of the Navajo and the Tibetans, meant to be returned to dust not long after they are created. Francisco’s art does more than imitate life; it imitates life and death.

Click an image below to view the gallery:

Learn more about the artist at FranciscoPajaro.com

You may also enjoy reading The Mindful Spaces of Daniel Wheeler by Peter Occhiogrosso

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A Photographic Study of Homeschooled Children in New York’s Catskill Mountains, by Rachel Papo

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Heeding the call of my intuition, I meandered into a local gallery, having been enticed by a banner hanging outside displaying one of the images of photographer Rachel Papo. Fortuitously, I caught her show the day before it came down. Immediately captivated by this evocative display of portraiture, I contemplated her imagery, which conveys a bird’s-eye view into the lives of 15 homeschooled children in New York’s Catskill Mountains – part storytelling, part study.

While the subject of homeschooling itself elicits its own debate among adults, this show is not a political statement, but rather an investigation of the inner lives of the children and their world of exploration, whimsy, creativity, and self-expression. Rachel Papo states how this project initially forced her to challenge her own preconceived notions and judgments of homeschooling.

The images of the collection capture quiet moments strung together by the intimacy conveyed of the lives of children being raised and educated outside the confines of the traditional American school system. Papo depicts what life for these children not trapped behind conventional desks each day resembles. It is a rich tapestry of exploration for the photographer, who started out by photographing one child, and was then inspired to delve into the broader tight-knit community of homeschooling families. Thus, a provocative body of work was born. Papo intends to publish a book of this collection.

Rachelpapo.com

You may also enjoy Happy Right Now: Empowering Children To Find Happiness Within by Julie Berry

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The Delightful, Joyous Art of Lori Portka

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There are things in life that simply make you smile… welcome to the artwork of Lori Portka, a full-time, self-taught artist who believes it’s her job to spread happiness through the art she creates. Best Self couldn’t agree more. We dare you to peruse this gallery and watch the 100 Grateful Paintings video without cracking a big ‘ol happy grin and feeling something beautiful well up within.

From the moment we first eye-spied the Crazy Sexy Love Notes: Messages from your wise and fabulous inner self, newly released by Kris Carr, we wanted to see more. Collaborating with Kris on this project, Lori gave whimsical, vibrant flight to the powerful written inspirations. The rest was card-deck magic.

Lori’s work exudes hope. It makes you want to get out and run through a field of sunflowers barefoot, pick up a paintbrush, compose a song, or write a poem — she conveys a sense of possibility. But before you start thinking this is a scene from the Sound of Music… there was a time when Lori’s art saved her.

When life hit a roadblock and everything around her felt bleak — heartbroken and defeated, with paint and a blank book in hand, she simply started creating…and creating, and creating. She says that art made with intention to spread love and healing, does exactly that. Lori exemplifies what is possible when you just let go of all that isn’t working and create room for all that is ready to emerge — a passionate career, love, a heartfelt mission… and of course the beautiful healing of self.

Today she runs a successful business created from that healing — her products are uplifting and inspiring — amongst my favorites, are the Grateful Heart Pray Flags, with intentions like:

May you wake with GRATITUDE.

May you see BEAUTY every day.

May you GLOW with HAPPINESS.

May you know you are LOVED.

May you know you are WORTHY.

May you sleep deeply and PEACEFULLY.

Who couldn’t possibly use a does of that sunshine? Check out her store for more.

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You may also enjoy Happy Right Now: Empowering Children To Find Happiness Within by Julie Berry

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Photographer Michael Tischler Tackles the Urban Landscape With an Equal Passion for Art and Precision

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To state that Michael Tischler, a dentist and photographer, has a dual passion would only partially portray the character and motivation behind this man. Equal parts craftsman, artist, and champion of technology, Michael leads a life of passion in every waking moment. An avid reader, seeker, student, teacher, and meditator, he sets himself a high bar for living life fully.

I am a photographer — and have been so for my entire career. Michael is my dentist. When I first entered his offices, I was struck by the beautiful, large-scale landscape photography that graced his walls. Developing an immediate bond, we proceeded to discuss the nuances of lighting and equipment, albeit with my mouth open wide and my tongue dodging the dental apparatus poking about. Nine years later, little of that scenario has changed during my routine visits, but Michael’s work certainly has. It has evolved, reflecting the parallel evolution of his spirit and the technology with which he works. Michael is now exploring landscapes with more intimacy, more courage, and more risk, and it has truly been an inspiration for me on many levels.

Dentistry was in Michael’s blood from an early age. The son of a beloved dentist in a hamlet of New York’s Hudson Valley, Michael embraced the same career and established his own practice in the same town, synthesizing the creative influences that surrounded him with his highly sought-out expertise in his field. When he’s not tending to clients, publishing, or speaking about advancements in dentistry, he is likely to be working on his photographs.

Photography’s magical grasp endured the decades, having been first sparked at the age of 13, during a family road trip when his father let him play with his Kodak camera. Michael now approaches the medium with the same surgical precision as his dentistry. Indeed, to him, they feel somewhat analogous — except for the tools in hand — requiring both zen-calmness and laser-focus.

Nature provides Michael’s dominant muse — his lush panoramic landscapes are fresh, artful, and technically flawless. More recently, however, he’s turned his lens on the urban landscape, exploring the myriad textures that infuse his images with a sense of the surreal. He compares the ever-changing environment of Times Square to that of nature — each visit to a familiar spot brings a new experience, a new inspiration. With this next generation of work, Michael envisions a second career, selling fine-art prints through galleries and purveyors of corporate art. And given his proven ability to manifest his desires, there is little doubt his vision will be realized.

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Learn more at MichaelTischler.com

You may also enjoy The Wall | Exploring Urban Media Through Photography by Steve Snider

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Los Angeles is famous for its glamorous, oversized swimming pools, which have been interpreted by decades of artists, ranging from David Hockney to David LaChapelle. But Daniel Wheeler, a transplanted Ohioan who has lived in LA since 1985, took a different approach to the swimming pools of Southern California. Putting on a wet suit and diving into pools with his camera, he took a series of photographs of the visual patterns created by exhaling underwater and aiming his lens at the surface. “I really like the thing that happens right at the surface of the water,” he said of the resulting series, entitled GULP. “There’s light above and there’s light below. There are reflections in both directions.”

That shift of perception — more subversive, and “submersive” than Hockney’s sunny acrylics — is emblematic of Wheeler’s approach to making art in general. His work, which also involves building, sculpting, performing, and fabricating, ranges from installations to handcrafted objects and constructions that include funerary urns and proposal celebrations, chapels, and meditation rooms.

“I’m a bit of a dinosaur because I believe in meaning and communication, story and narrative, and sincerity and a lot of things that people poo-poo,” Wheeler says. “I’m not so hot on irony. So that’s why I don’t really fit in so much in the art world anymore.”

If so, that would be a misperception because the word art itself derives from Latin and French roots relating to practical skill and craft, and that’s what appeals most to Wheeler. “I’ve always been somebody who feels that the real wisdom I have is in my hands and not in my mind,” he says, noting that his earliest experiences with art had to do with building strange objects in his parents’ basement.

The work shown here reveals just a small cross-section of Wheeler’s output, including an early installation piece and a more recent chapel created for an Episcopal school. Each in its way expresses his unique sense of how mindfulness plays a role in art.

The title of his 2004 installation You Are Here at the Otis College of Art and Design in Los Angeles is a play on the kind of map you might find at a mall or museum, and according to Wheeler is all about what constitutes presence. “You walk into the museum and the first thing you enter is a fully tiled simulacrum of a bathroom with a bathtub, sink, tiled walls, and shower [see image]. But there’s one difference, in that all the holes in the fixtures are re-enameled so there are no exits or entrances. My point in all this was to tweak the psychological relationship to privacy.

“The drains are where all the stuff we don’t want to see — the waste, all the scary things — go down the holes. You feel comfortable at first but there’s an alteration that makes some people very uncomfortable.”

From there you walk through an open shower stall that leads to a long mysterious tunnel that somewhat resembles a mineshaft, ending in the equivalent of a large yurt. Another aspect of the installation is a series of security cameras with monitors that allow visitors to watch what other visitors are doing as they work their way through the complicated space, which also includes a kind of white vinyl tent that looks like a “clean room.” Positioned around the walls are old kitchen appliances from the 1950s, ‘60s, and ‘70s. “Your presence triggers some of these appliances to turn on,” Wheeler says. “These were picked because everyone had grown up in a kitchen and had one of those appliances, and it was supposed to jar you into a memory, like Proust’s madeleine.” His reference to the famous sequence in Remembrance of Things Past, in which an “involuntary memory” of Proust’s childhood is triggered by tasting a teacake, adds another nuance to the concept of the installation.

“Meanwhile, other people are in the other space watching you on security monitors. So my question throughout this piece is, Where are you, ever? Are you here? Are you there? Are you in your past? When you’re in your past are you in your body, or are you in both?”

It’s the kind of multilayered conceptual piece that undoubtedly works better when you experience it in the flesh, and have to face all those questions as its creator has intended. [Editor’s note: You can view a digital approximation of the installation on Wheeler’s website, here, but Flash is required on your computer.]

What Wheeler calls these “ontological questions” regarding mindfulness come into play more viscerally in a multi-faith chapel and meditation room he was commissioned to create in 2013 for Campbell Hall, an Episcopal (k-12) school in North Hollywood. “They said to me, ‘We’ve got kids who are overscheduled, overstimulated, working their tails off. We want to carve out a space in the center of campus for the spirit, so that kids can come and find their quiet center — whatever that is.’”

The rough-hewn stone of his chapel interacts with handmade chairs, a deceptively simple altar of polished ash, oak, and eucalyptus, and the natural lighting to create a numinous effect that effectively separates this retreat from its surroundings. Dan was raised in the Episcopal faith in Cleveland, but because his family was involved in education, the faith he participated in “had a lot to do with inquiry, with how we think.” And so, although the setting and tools are different from an installation for an art college, the questions are similar: “How do you get somebody to make a pilgrimage? How do you get them part of the way to where they want to go, and then let them get themselves everywhere else? The notion of pilgrimage and a pathway is central to what I do. I’m interested in putting people on some sort of physical pathway. Movement through space is half the rub of all this. Even if you’re sitting and meditating, there’s a pilgrimage in your mind. My belief is that you go through the body to those places. The goal may sometimes be to supersede the body, but you’re only going through that portal.

The term ‘mindfulness’ implies a less physical thing, but that’s the root of it; it’s the process of finding your way to a harmonious relationship with the body itself.

“The pilgrimage can also be related to what they call in certain religious circles a ‘wander,’ a place where you’re set adrift in the world. The metaphor is that you’re lost in the desert, and that you’re adrift until you’re not. That’s what daydreaming is about. That’s what happens when you’re meditating and you start to wander. That’s a creative moment.”

Wheeler sees a lot of live music of all genres, and whenever somebody ruefully remarks to him that their mind started to wander in the middle of a concert, he replies, “Oh, hallelujah! How great was that! Where’d you go? When that happens to me in the middle of a concert I always think that’s something I was given — a real gift from the musicians.”

Although he started his career in the realm of installations and conceptual art, Wheeler also has had an abiding love of making solid objects that are not only firmly grounded in the material world but even, some might say, on the fringes of the sentimental. He designs Valentine’s Day gifts, engagement announcements, funerary objects, and grave monuments — the kinds of work that most so-called fine artists probably wouldn’t go near. But because he’s a skilled craftsman and creates the pieces with no overlay of irony, they work in a way that’s stunningly direct and heartfelt.

“Part of that has to do with ritual,” he says of his pleasure in making these pieces. “Valentine’s Day is considered a kind of lowly holiday, but I take it very seriously. I’ve made sculpture Valentines for my wife since we met, and for my two daughters all their lives, so our house is kind of filled with these objects. They’re lighthearted objects, but I don’t take the process of making them lightly.”

Wheeler also considers the value of usefulness, often overlooked in the world of so-called fine art. “I’ve thrown an implied utility back into a lot of my work,” he says. “I like to play with that whole notion of what is the utility of art by implying that you’re going to have to interact with it. One of the reasons I like working in fields of sacred space or funerary objects or love is because there’s not a lot of room for games. There’s no room for it. I can be clever and I can be playful, but I cannot play games. And that makes me happy because I don’t really want to anyway.”

Click an image below to view the gallery:

Visit Daniel Wheeler’s website, Big Objects

You may also enjoy learning about artist Francisco de Pajaro by Peter Occhiogrosso

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Photographer Bill Miles’ Journey to Cill Rialiag, a Remote Artists’ Retreat along Ireland’s Rustic Coast

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If ever there were a Leap of Faith fairy tale, it might start with the triumph of Noelle Campbell-Sharp, a colorful and commanding patron of the arts, and owner of Dublin’s Origin Gallery.   In the remote and spectacularly rugged village of Ballinskelligs, Co Kerry, Ireland, exists a collection of ancient ruins dating back to the sixth century.   In the 1980’s, the government initiated a plan to rehabilitate the primitive Bolus Road, which winds along adjacent cliffs, to accommodate modern tourist busses. Learning of this, Noelle set her determined mind to defend the magnificent landscape against such an affront. Her solution was to acquire and restore the ruins into a retreat for artists…

“an essential oasis for the world’s best creative minds, who will see it as a beacon of light in a troubled world,” she passionately describes her vision.

Overcoming bureaucratic and financial obstacles too burdensome to catalog here, Noelle succeeded in thwarting the tourism development, and opened the doors to Cill Rialaig in 1991. In the years since, over 3000 artists from every corner of the globe have found their way here — seeking either monastic refuge, or communal inspiration — both are possible. What they didn’t find, is a website. In an effort to preserve its isolation, entry to Cill Rialaig, which is free, is granted by long-hand application (email cillrialaigarts@gmail.com) often months or years in advance. However, one can checkout the nearby, extraordinary Cill Rialaig Art Center for an online taste.

I had the amazingly good fortune to be able to stay at the Cill Rialaig retreat. While on assignment in Ireland, I became enamored with the landscape and elected to extend my trip to pursue some personal photography.

I was in a creative crisis at the time, questioning my artistic worth, uncertain of the viability of my career of 20+ years.

I longed for an opportunity to immerse myself in my work and explore my deeper connection to photography beyond its waning ability to pay bills. And then I learned of Cill Rialaig, from a friend of a friend who had once taken residence there. In what can only be regarded as a divine alignment of the Universe, a labyrinth of referrals and phone calls led me to Noelle herself. I began explaining my story to her; after only a few words, she cut me off and offered me one of the cottages, which had an unlikely vacancy beginning the next day. With a crude map and white knuckles (have you ever driven in Ireland?), I found my way to this magical village, and spent the next several days photographing the artists-in-residence, locals, and landscape in a giddy state of awe. I could have stayed for weeks, but I was immensely grateful for the brief moment of artistic healing I was gifted. I left with a rejuvenated soul and a fresh love affair with my camera and its possibilities.

Click an image below to view the gallery:

View more of Bill’s work at billmiles.com

You may also enjoy The Wild Inside: The Importance of Imagination and Nurturing Your Creative Spirit by Marilyn Hagar

The post Cill Rialaig: Ireland’s secret artists’ retreat appeared first on BEST SELF.

Hollywood-based artist Amanda Church displays a colorful flamboyance in this exhibition of large-scale paintings

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Hollywoodland, the title of a 2011 exhibition I had at the aptly named Land of Tomorrow in Louisville, Kentucky, was a show which referenced not only a specific sense of place but also the accompanying imagery and sensations associated with the awareness of being there. You could say the lure of the exotic had beckoned and effectively seduced!

When it was erected in 1923, the iconic “Hollywood” sign spelled out “Hollywoodland” in an attempt to advertise the real estate in the hills above Hollywood. As the title of my show it was used to convey the overarching recognition of having discovered a sort of second home in Los Angeles. The physical openness of LA seems the opposite of New York City’s tightly configured grid and every time I land there I immediately experience the same sensation of expansiveness and possibility. This feeling eventually led to the development of a new lexicon of imagery for my paintings. In the Pop tradition of the flattened imagery of John Wesley, an artist I very much admire, I have been dealing over the years with a vocabulary derived from cultural signifiers, such as cartoon bubbles and Shmoos. After spending a significant amount of time in Los Angeles, I gradually started to incorporate imagery more specific to my particular west-coast experience, including the architecture of the 1960s-style motels where I was staying, their variously shaped swimming pools, the surrounding billboards and foliage, and the intimation of a figure, the latter paving the way for a subsequent series of silhouette paintings and portraits.

The paintings in the Hollywoodland series depict a short narrative in which a semi-autobiographical female figure enters, traverses, and finally exits a fictional space loosely based on drawings done while staying at the Highland Hotel in Hollywood. The series begins with 2011’s surreal Opportunity, in which a headless woman in a turquoise skirt straddles an ambiguous barrier of beige, and continues through Highland and Magic Castle, both named for the specific Hollywood locales they portray. Both Sides and Ghost show a landscape from which the figure has completely departed. Earlier paintings such as Cream Point and Day for Night could alternatively be termed “mindscapes,” the stirrings of landscapes as yet imaginary, while Room 412 is a fantastic rendition of the view from a Miami hotel room which included a tower displaying the time and temperature and which later became the pattern for the board shorts I designed as part of my Mandy Pants clothing company (another story).

My recent work has turned to a more abstracted and less specific perspective on place. Aerial View, for instance, was inspired by just that – a photo taken from a plane looking down at the ground below. Black Bar and Closer both continue the investigation of this sort of abstraction, while Audience, the newest painting shown here, resumes a prior interest in a kind of non-representational representation of portraiture both of individuals and groups. Since my paintings have always dealt in one way or another with the body in landscape, it seems they may now be coming full circle to encompass an ongoing interest in psychological portraiture in the realm of a place, either fictitious or actual.

Click an image below to view the gallery:

You may also enjoy Amanda’s interview with artist Julie Sass

The post Hollywoodland | The Vibrant Art of Amanda Church appeared first on BEST SELF.