Each morning, he made himself a to-do list and crossed out items as he completed them as straightforwardly as any middle manager. Shopping-list tasks like 'china markers' or 'order canvas' sit alongside reminders like 'paint sister's baby furniture.'
Sabahs are made entirely by hand from 100% leather in either Texas or Turkey—two regions with distinct yet deeply rooted relationships to the material. The result is a shoe that varies subtly from pair to pair, even within the same size.
"We have other options, and other people do want us, but we have to find the right space, because we've been very lucky with this space. But the most important part is to find a place where we can continue all week long, where the school buses can come in and not disturb the neighbors, and be safe. So that is the biggest challenge."
"My work is a dialogue with clay, grounded in reverence for repetition and craft, at once elemental, transparent, and detailed. I'm not sure my work answers these questions but I do constantly ask myself: What value does beauty play in our chaotic lives? Is beauty important? What do objects we surround ourselves say about us?"
The curators of Greater New York really captured the energy of the city well - not the out-of-towner's New York with its glossy surfaces, brands, and trendy fare, but the gritty New York that's always in the process of formation, that rejects surface in favor of rawness.
Much of Instagram's video content is organized around transformation-the virtual magic of the before-and-after and clips that show cause and effect. A person makes pasta from scratch in 20 seconds via edits that compress time-intensive labor.
I see myself first and foremost as a weaver working at the intersection of craft and technology. As an Angeleno, I grew up learning how to weave in the Wixárika tradition of my matriarchal bloodline by watching my mother and my grandmother.
The new New Museum is many things: contemporary, perhaps, but also a science, history, anthropology, and many other museums in one. It echoes the desire of its patron class to own the world and its affiliated courtier class to deliver it to them on a silver platter, or encased in perforated metal, in this case.
On Franklin Street in Brooklyn's Greenpoint neighborhood, one non-commercial gallery fosters 'a small, stubbornly human space for friction.' Friction—the ubiquitous buzzword that captures the simultaneous delight and discomfort of doing things the slow way—is at the heart of artists Pap Souleye Fall and Char Jeré's current show at Subtitled NYC. It also reflects the overall spirit of this little exhibition space and of a burgeoning movement to reject our culture of optimization in favor of a bumpier, more intimate, less alienating experience.
I work outside, carving and shaping the stone. Outside my house, I have a table, an extension cord, and tools. It's very cold and I have to wear all my winter clothes. When it's too cold, I do the filing and finishing work inside after I shape it outside. I listen to all kinds of music. I listen to Eminem all the time; his albums are all my favorites. For drawings, I work at Kinngait Studios or at home on my kitchen table.
Mornings are best for concentrated work. In the winter, I turn on the heat at 8am and get started around 10am. Summer, I start around 9am. I have two areas in the studio for projects. The large, heavy wood sculptures are carved in the front section of the studio, closest to the roll-up wide door. Smaller sculptures are placed on a hydraulic workbench. Before I start, I focus, connect with the Source, and ask for guidance.