I’m already fielding inquiries for dining tables after the publication of an interview with Ene and me in the December issue of San Francisco Magazine, written by Joanne Furio. The interview is called ‘We Gather Together’ and it unpacks our approach to the role of furniture in bringing people together, particularly around the holidays. If you live in the Bay Area, pick up a copy at the newsstands, or click on the link above. Ene and I are both very pleased with the article, and thank Joanne and Jenny for doing such a wonderful job.

Tagged: contemporary art, craft philosophy, deep craft, green design, innovation, scott Constable, slow design, slow food, sustainability, woodworking, wowhaus

artist/textile designer Angelina DeAntonis sits in the chair her mother made, surrounded by Angelina’s ottomans

I did not expect to be distracted by a chair as I entered the San Francisco studio of artist/textile designer Angelina DeAntonis, but the chair’s clean lines and straightforward presence captured my imagination, and it looked very much at home surrounded by Angelina’s luminous fabric creations. I quickly learned that the chair, like everything else in Angelina’s working space, has a unique story that is integral to her aesthetic worldview. The chair is one of a pair built by Angelina’s mother over 40 years ago, with cushions upholstered in fabric her mom wove from sheep raised and sheered on the family farm in the Pacific Northwest, where Angelina was raised.

DeAntonis most definitely gleaned an early appreciation of hand-crafted textiles from her mother, but she also inherited a fearless capacity for experimentation. Informed by the back-to-the-land ethos of her upbringing, Angelina’s clothes effortlessly link sustainability with beauty, elegance with comfort. While Angelina is well known as a designer of naturally dyed, sumptuously graphic and eminently wearable clothing, which she sells under her Ocelot Clothing label, her development as a textile artist and her sensibility as a designer are more complex.

Trained as a photographer, Angelina learned through working with choreographers as a costume designer how to match her love of the process of making images with the theater of movement. She is largely self taught in the art of fabric dyeing, drawing on diverse influences ranging from the study of traditional Japanese shibori to travels in the Gujarat State of India, where she taught natural dyeing to renowned fiber artist Khatri Ali Mohammed Isha. I recently had the good fortune to spend a morning with Angelina DeAntonis as she patiently walked me through her process of dyeing fabric, an adaptation of the traditional Japanese, dye-resist process, which forms the core of her Ocelot line of clothing.

Working in the studio with her expert seamstress and patternmaker Che Ying, and sometimes a dye assistant or intern, Angelina calmly balances order with ambiguity as she folds the wools, silks and linens in complex layers, separated by homemade wooden blocks. Here is where she composes her patterns in a kind of premeditated flow state, the patterns emerging from the interplay between material properties, traditional technique, and her own imagination. The fabric bundles are clamped and transferred to vats of dye, some of which Angelina makes herself from plants and insects.

Angelina shapes her own dyeing blocks from marine plywood

It was truly thrilling to see the abstract ‘dot’ patterns revealed as Angelina unfolded the fabric bundles to dry. The colors are deeply saturated, earthy but vibrant, with translucent luminosity echoing the shapes of her wooden blocks. After the dyeing demonstration, watching Angelina deftly demonstrate endless variations on how to wear her signature wrap skirt, I thought about how she carries the same sensibility of making to dressing- a focus on open-ended structure. Beginning with the meditative folding of fabric, each step of the process is a distinct beginning, and Angelina’s combined control over, and openness to, random variability strengthens the visceral appeal of her designs. Wearing her clothes is a natural continuation of the process of making, inviting her clients to collaborate.

I hope you’ll join me in tracking the progress of Angelina DeAntonis and her Ocelot Clothing as she moves to a new studio and expands into making accessories in US-made industrial felt as well as items for the home in European certified linens, while continuing to develop the classic, bold elegance of her Ocelot line.

To read more interviews with fellow makers and artisans, please click here.

examples of Angelina’s Itajime line drying in the studio

Tagged: Angelina DeAntonis, deep craft, fashion, ocelot clothing, shibori, textiles

photo: Todd Hido

My interview with Brooklyn-based artist and woodworker Jim Christensen is the latest in an ongoing series of interviews and studio visits with other makers/artisans/crafters. You may read these by clicking here. If you would like to introduce yourself and your work to a growing Deep Craft network, I invite you to visit the PARTICIPATE page of this site. Meanwhile, allow me to introduce you to my old pal Jim:

DC: Describe what you do as a maker/artisan
JC: I’ve been making things since I was a kid. Like a lot of guys who grow up in small town U.S.A., my father and grandfather were both woodworkers, as well as my uncles. The craft of woodworking has informed the way I see things in this world and has influenced the types of material culture that capture my attention. A good introduction to my worldview can be seen at: www.youroldpaljim.blogspot.com

DC: Was there a childhood experience that you believe influenced you later or led you in a particular direction regarding craft or making?
JC: I can’t recall any single childhood experience informing my direction as a maker, but the extended experience of observing my father and grandfather practicing the craft of woodworking would be the greatest.

DC: What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to gain proficiency with a material or set of skills?
JC: I still haven’t overcome my biggest obstacle, which would be to accept failure as a part of the process of making. It really does stand to be your best experience in making as it forces you to innovate in ways that could be a surprise to you. But how to overcome the fear of failure?

DC: What comes first when you are making – formal constraints, functional parameters, a gesture, etc.?
JC: Mostly I work from sentiments and precedents. A lot of the time I am moved by things people have made before, things that they made for some inspired reason. It’s hard to put into words, but when somebody loved making something, you can just feel it when you are looking at that thing, whatever it is. Or maybe what they made is part of some great tradition with which they were communing when they made that thing, and you can feel it then, too. So I work from there, because that’s the best place for me to start. And working like this has taken me down a lot of different paths.

DC: Describe an ideal day in the studio.
JC: I’m not sure what an ideal day in the studio is anymore – I work full-time or more right now. All I really need is a hot cup of coffee and a clear plan for what I’m trying to get done that day.

DC: Do you have a favorite thing?
JC: I have so many favorite things – I post a lot of them on my blog.

DC: Do you have a favorite tool?
JC: I bought a Lie-Nielsen Model Maker’s Block Plane to start a never-ending model of every place I’ve ever lived. I called the model “Ideal Home (under construction)”. I really love that little plane and the shavings it makes.

Mrs. Cipriani’s Kindergarten 1999; subjective scale, but the dolls are 24″ tall; mixed media; collection of the M. H. DeYoung Museum

DC: What is the favorite thing you’ve ever made?
JC: I made a sculpture once called Mrs. Cipriani’s Kindergarten. It took maybe two years to make and I really felt like I had something special going on the whole time it was being made.

DC: When making something where is your concentration- on the present activity or on its desired result, or something else altogether?
JC: A while ago I started to believe that the present was the immediate resolution of the past and the future. I guess that moment can happen with more or less elegance and with greater or lesser meaning to my life. When I’m making something that I’ve chosen to make (unlike my job, where the client is choosing for me), this sentiment is heightened, so I’m right there in that sliver thin moment. That, I guess, is the framework that guides my concentration.

DC: Is there any material, tool or technique that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learning?
JC: When I was working on Mrs. Cipriani’s Kindergarten I found out about “compo”, a basic thermoplastic made from chalk, hide glue, linseed oil, and resin. I like the idea of this primitive man-made material but I’ve never had a good idea for how it could be put to good use.

DC: Where do you find inspiration?
JC: I find inspiration in the material culture that surrounds me. The unprecedented object is a myth and understanding the history of the forms of material culture that peak my interest hopefully adds an intensity to my production that can be felt in the things I make.

Ideal Home (Under Construction) 2005; 100″ x 96″ x 84″; sugar pine and basswood

DC: Where do you see yourself in relation to the current trends towards sustainability, DIY, craft, etc.?
JC: I don’t really know anything about the current trends in craft or art. I’m personally interested in the ethics behind the material culture we all produce, so that is what is in the front of my mind lately. I’m also concerned about how methods of making are not being passed on from one person to another via first hand experience. I started thinking about this as an undergraduate student, when I was helping other students make things in the woodshop. I was stunned at how little my peers knew about using tools and how things go together. That was in 1989. All through my educational experience I saw this and it really bummed me out. We used to be a culture that made things and we were proud of that.

DC: Where do you place yourself in relation to a craft tradition or heritage?
JC: I didn’t place myself, circumstance placed me in the tradition of rural American woodworking. This style of woodworking is an interesting hybrid of hand and machine and that is the way I saw my dad and grampa make things when I was a kid. I feel like this method of making produces objects with a certain efficiency and humanity.

DC: What advice would you give to someone just starting out in craft/making?
JC: Know your history.

Gatormouth 2007; 14″ x 42″; graphite on paper; private collection

Tagged: contemporary art, craft philosophy, deep craft, jim christensen, vernacular, woodworking

Gabriel Russo wearing a Hipari of his own design at his studio in Richmond, CA

My friend Gabriel Russo taught me that style is a state of mind, and in capable hands can literally be constructed. What I see as the ‘everyday-special’ style evoked by his clothing design- relaxed, well-made, familiar but fresh- flows from the seasoned knowledge born of a steadfast commitment to quality handwork. Russo seamlessly weaves divergent influences into his shirts and jackets, with references to his own past as well as to traditional Japanese textiles and classic Americana. In many ways, Gabriel Russo’s Fall Collection of timelessly hip menswear tells the story of the designer’s journey from Brooklyn street kid to pattern maker and textile designer. I had the pleasure of an advance glimpse of the new line the other day, and learned a lot about Gabriel’s original approach to the art of designing and making clothing over a meandering conversation at his Richmond-based studio.

As a teenager growing up on the mean streets of Brooklyn, Russo made his first clothes to emulate the neighborhood wiseguys he admired, having no money for the real deal. He learned to sew from his mother, a ‘piece-worker’ in the textile industry, and he gleaned materials and know-how while sweeping the factory floor for pocket change. Gabriel’s talents did not go unnoticed and he was soon moonlighting classes at the newly established Fashion Institute of Technology. After years hoofing it in Manhattan’s garment district as a fabric cutter, Russo became a sought-after pattern-maker and was eventually hired to manage the fitting and pattern department for GAP/Old Navy, which brought him to the West Coast. He most recently worked as Senior Director of Technical Design for BCBG in Los Angeles.

Gabriel collects vintage labels

In addition to his admiration for vintage American, regional labels, Gabriel has a fascination with traditional Japanese textiles, particularly the boro kimono. These are mostly from the Meiji period (late 19th century),  from Japan’s rural villages where clothing was repaired from whatever fabric was available.

detail of patched fabric from Gabriel’s 19th century Japanese boro kimono

Russo’s new line of men’s shirts boldly appropriate the idea of mending in their construction, featuring breast pockets salvaged from the linings of vintage American suit coats and Japanese kimonos, both of which Gabriel actively collects and deconstructs for this purpose. The pockets are like Dada compositions in their own right. Indeed, Gabriel acknowledges Kurt Schwitters as another inspiration, and the shirts feature collage-like labels that match the pocket, adding irresistible rack appeal.

Gabriel Russo shirts feature pockets salvaged from vintage suit coats and kimonos

a ‘deconstructed’ pocket awaits a shirt

Please join me to celebrate Gabriel Russo as he introduces his Fall Collection at Shibumi Gallery in Berkeley, CA for a Special Weekend Show: Ocelot Clothing September 12 & 13, 2009
Saturday 12-6 & Sunday 12-5.

Tagged: aesthetics, BCBG, contemporary art, craft, deep craft, fashion, gabriel russo, GAP, innovation, shibumi gallery, style, textiles

Donald Fortescue with one of two identical parts of his latest sculpture, ‘Nio’.

Donald Fortescue was preparing to join the last of the coopered sections of his latest sculpture yesterday afternoon when I dropped by his home-based studio in West Oakland for a chat. I arrived just in time to help him and his talented assistant, Yvonne Mouser, flip one of the two, seven foot diameter discs made of heavy Jarrah (Eucalyptus marginata), a sustainably-harvested eucalyptus native to Southwestern Australia. The identical discs will ultimately rest vertically on elliptical steel bases, framing an entryway like twin sentinels. Donald elaborates:

“I decided to call the pair of sculptures ‘Nio’. This is the term for the two sculptural guardian deities that stand on either side of the entrance to a Buddhist temple in Japan. The one on the left as you enter is called ‘A’ the one on the right is ‘Un’.”

Yvonne Mouser hand-bevels the final sections for ‘Nio’

Donald’s grandfather’s Record, some paraffin and a bevel gauge among the excelsior.

I kept my visit brief, sensing Donald’s mild anxiousness about finishing the sculpture in time for delivery before he takes off for four months of travel while on sabbatical from his post as Chair of Wood/Furniture at CCA. I mostly wanted to see his new studio in action while its first project was underway. Plus, I simply enjoy Donald’s company, find inspiration in his work, and know we both appreciate the kismet of a studio drop-by. I was impressed how effortlessly his tiny woodshop accommodates such a challenging project. The space is just over 400 square feet, beneath the 19th Century Victorian bungalow he shares with his wife, the artist and graphic designer Sandra Kelch, in a diverse neighborhood once known as ‘Lower Bottoms’.

Donald’s shaping tools, neatly stowed in the door of a cabinet.

I’ve known Donald for about 10 years and have always appreciated his warmth and generosity as a friend and host. After a tour of the studio and project we convened for piping hot green tea and home-baked date bread in Donald and Sandra’s sunny garden, planted with trees and flowers of Donald’s native Australia. Join me as I follow Donald’s exploits over the coming months on his new weblog. Meanwhile, I recommend making a batch of Donald’s Date Bars:

DONALD’S DATE BARS

Chewy Date Bars.
A recipe from Nantucket – but where did they get the dates?

1/2 cup of butter melted
1/2 cup of sugar
2 eggs lightly beaten
1 teaspoon of Vanilla
mix all this together in a bowl
add 1 cup of chopped dates
add 1/2 cup flour (mixed with 1/4 teaspoon baking powder)
mix well and spoon into a greased and floured 10″ square baking dish.
Bake at 350 for 35 minutes
Slice up when warm and place on a cooling tray
Try to let them cool to room temperature before eating but don’t give
yourself too hard a time if they are all gone before they cool down.

Sometimes I add a 1/2 teaspoon of garam masala to spice them up.
Sometimes I dice a small banana in there too and reduce the amount of
dates
Sometimes I add a tablespoon of cane syrup for zing.

Tagged: contemporary art, craft, deep craft, donald fortescue, Oakland, woodworking

I’m continuing to feature an ongoing series of interviews and studio visits with other makers/artisans/crafters. If you would like to introduce yourself and your work to a growing Deep Craft network, I invite you to visit the PARTICIPATE page of this site. Meanwhile, allow me to introduce you to artist Christopher Robbins.

DC: Describe what you do as a maker/artisan.

CR: I like to make things that work against themselves, to sidle objects, or crafts, or tools with dreams that aren’t good for them – or me – and then try to realize those dreams for them. Really try.

http://www.christopher-robbins.com

DC: Was there a childhood experience that you believe influenced you later or led you in a particular direction regarding craft or making?

CR: Well. Nothing mechanical ever really seemed to work right in my house growing up. We used a crescent wrench to open and close the kitchen faucet as a ‘temporary’ fix for much of junior high, “until we find the right replacement.” This was an aesthetic decision; it wasn’t poverty-driven.
This left 2 major impacts on what I do today:
1) an inventiveness towards workarounds using whatever materials are at hand
2) a manic insecurity that if something isn’t done now, and completely, it will never get done, which adds an  unnecessarily urgent energy to everything I do. Everything. Even tying my shoes. Or answering this question.

DC: What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to gain proficiency with a material or set of skills? Did you have a ‘breakthrough’ moment?
CR: Realizing that every material has a history, a way it’s been used before, and popular stereotypes about how it ‘ought’ to be used, and that these can become its personality, to create a character that I have to deal with. As if I am helping it with its goals, where ‘it’ is an inanimate object I’ve sidled with what I believe are everyone else’s expectations for the thing, or materials, or act.
DC: Do you have any superstitions connected with making?
CR: If you don’t do it all yourself, you are weaker for it. This is a doubly-dehabilitating superstition.

DC: What comes first when you are making – formal constraints, functional parameters, a gesture, etc.?
CR: I start with something I see that I love that I think has gone astray, and I try to save it.

DC: Describe an ideal day in the studio.
CR: At the end of the day I am physically exhausted and vibrating (?)  mentally. I’ve got some new calluses, and some sun or windburn, and the shower water comes off me dirty, and I’m psyched to hop on the computer and draw or animate what I just made.

DC: What attracts you to a certain handmade thing?
CR: Wood. Stout. Round. Worn. You can tell what its been used for, and that its being used for something else now. Or should be.

DC: Do you have a favorite thing?

Christopher’s favorite thing

DC: Do you have a favorite tool? Why?
CR: Sawzall (reciprocating saw). Because it is the closest thing we have to a light sabre.
I don’t use it much, but when  I do: bliss!

plysheet

DC: What is the favorite thing you’ve ever made? Why?
CR: That would be the sheet of plywood I was left with after I made a tree from plywood, planted it outside, chopped it down, and milled it back into a sheet of plywood. I returned that sheet to Home Depot. All I have is the receipt now.
Why? Cuz I got to make it and destroy it and it still existed! It was gorgeous and an adventure and a trick and fun and hard and I got to use a chainsaw too.

plytree

DC: When making something where is your concentration- on the present activity or on its desired result, or something else altogether?
CR: I am indelibly stuck in the moment. But this is not “Zen” at all. It’s probably the opposite of Zen. Whatever I am doing at any point in time, everything I am is fixated on that with a frenetically focused energy, no matter what it is: sanding a piece of wood, pouring frozen yogurt into a cone, trying to drill through metal with a sheetrock screw on a raft balancing against waves on a windy day…

DC: Is there any material, tool or technique that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learning? What’s interesting to you about this?

CR: I really dig that molded cardboard stuff, with lots of air in it. The stuff they make disposable cupholders at a stadium from, or sometimes strangely shaped packing material. I’d love to make things out of that – but I don’t know what yet. So, I haven’t started. I guess I could set up some sort of residency at a factory that manufactures that stuff. Let the material and equipment drive it, though I’ve never really embraced that ‘let it happen’ approach to making. But the best way to start is to begin, so what am I waiting for?
I like it because it is quotidian but really totally out of this world. It’s a banal material with a pretty shitty rep, so I want to save it.

one horse

DC: Where do you find inspiration? How does this come out in the work?
CR: Things that undo themselves – something that is its own opposite, and still works. Stridently embracing hypocrisy.  Mixing up land and sea. Things that float.  Stuff with holes in it. Stuck in between. A massive snowdrift in a parking lot.
Aha! By Martin Gardner

DC: Where do you see yourself in relation to the current trends towards sustainability, DIY, craft, etc.? How has your relationship to these things changed over time?
CR: I worry about becoming a series of illustrations.
You see, I like when it is clear how something was made, when its workings are essentially exposed. That is a vital part of DIY or sustainability, but I also appreciate it like that Willie Nelson song, “when you see how all the pieces fit, as you watch them fall apart.” Meaning, I see the feebleness in any gesture, when it’s really built for the duration of a show, or simply for documentation, or as an (ugh) example. I guess I want to build habit of use into the things I make, but I consciously chose art as opposed to development to focus my life on, so creating change or setting some example is not what I’m in this for. It’s got to be lived, and real change is a boring, day by day, totally unsexy thing. It’s important, but it’s rarely clever.

albatross

DC: Where do you place yourself in relation to a craft tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about your primary influences related to craft?
CR: Once I wished I was Nakashima. Then I decided to be Simon Starling. Now I’m an ADDHD Construction worker who’s got Puryear and Mike Kelley stuck in his craw, with Trinh Minh Ha quietly presiding over it all.
<rant begins> I’ve only recently realized that the conceits and paradoxes of international community development have more of a bearing on how I think and work than any material or craft.
That probably sounds totally pompous and misguided, but look at it this way:

Many contemporary generations – from the pottery barn crowd to the received nostalgia for the 80’s gang, to people who watch Ken Burns or listen to Ira Glass – have a misplaced nostalgia for the worn, for remnants. I’m part of this, too. So, I’m in West Africa buying masks that look old but aren’t – it’s bad to buy masks if they’re actually old; that’s like tomb raiding. So, artisans are making fake old for people like me ,  masks that stink of kerosene from their aging process, which’ve been purposefully broken to show their age. I mean, there’s paint in the cracks. So there’s fake old that’s fooling nobody, though we all politely pretend it does for each other’s sake, and that’s exactly what it is supposed to do, so it can sit comfortably within my post colonial conscience.
And then this same Artisan makes stuff for actual rituals taking place today in rural Africa, and they’ve got shards of CD-roms in them, plastic shiny bits: that’s what the Africans are using.
All right, now add to that the fact that my job is to “develop” this community. I’m a Peace Corps Volunteer who literally asked his Director for the National Geographic version of Africa, please.  You know, mud hut, no running water, no electricity. Never mind I had to drive in his air-conditioned Land Rover past pizza places, people selling French versions of Scrabble on the street and driving motorcycles to get there. I got there.
So, I’m there, wanting to live like my image of an African, but there’s a very different reality of what it actually is to be an African. And I’m supposed to “develop” this community I’ve chosen to live in because its not “developed.” And this has to happen without destroying what is so amazing about this place – the fact that it is not American, that life is shared, people take care of each other, know how to do for themselves, process is necessarily transparent.
So, in terms of making, I know the meaning of the material comes from how it was extracted, where it comes from, how it is used, what it can become, and I know that this all changes in different hands and different cultures. And then I’ve got my own roles I play in order to work with different materials or contexts, and its all relative. As a result, I’m an unrepentant relativist – I believe in the opposite of everything I believe, and I know, if it’s the only thing I do know, that I really don’t know what I’m talking about.
So, where does that put me in relation to Puryear’s riffs on traditional African masks in wood or Nakashima working wood so it remains “true” to the tree, or the actual African guy making a different set of masks for the tourists – those are the fake authentic ones, and for locals – the ones with new materials? Basically, it makes me want to avoid craft as a well-made thing that purportedly has a purpose (but is really made for a gallery). It makes me want to turn away from symbolic objects and instead make fucked up tools that show how you’re living, and that affect how you’re living.
Like a stool made from what you’ve got – a traffic cone, a rivet gun, a sawzall. I’d most like to pretend I’m that African Artisan guessing what authenticity means to different people and doing it just wrong enough. Except that I don’t want to make masks. I want to make stools.</rant ends>

Tagged: , christopher robbins, contemporary art, deep craft, INTERVIEW, making

I’m continuing to feature an ongoing series of interviews and studio visits with other makers/artisans/crafters. If you would like to introduce yourself and your work to a growing Deep Craft network, I invite you to visit the PARTICIPATE page of this site. Meanwhile, allow me to introduce you to artist/provocateur Caroline Woolard.

DC: Describe what you do as a maker/artisan.
CW: As a maker, I share small discoveries with other people, stirring up curiosity and optimism. These moments defy expectations and can come from material properties or experiences of the commons.  Lately, I am working on a barter/skill-sharing network for artists: www.OurGoods.org

cloud caught

DC: What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to gain proficiency with a material or set of skills? Did you have a ‘breakthrough’ moment?
CW: My biggest obstacle is always impatience. I am not proficient in any material. I am always discovering, hoping that my approach, full of wonder, makes each material receptive to my dialog with it.

DC: Do you have any superstitions connected with making?
CW: Mornings are for precision and measuring. Nights are for risky hopes. Some spaces need to be cleared with salt and sage.

DC: What attracts you to a certain handmade thing?
CW: The person who made it or the sense that the thing has a large life- as nuanced and complicated as a stranger that I will get to know, with a life large enough for endless surprise.

DC: Do you have a favorite process?
CW: Glassblowing. I nearly committed my life to this one material. If only the objects produced reflected the 2000 degree, collaborative event of breathing air into a molten material! Three people work in silent understanding: blowing, blocking heat, and shaping the glass. The “jacks” (metal tongs/tweezers) are greased with beeswax, sparking with flame and honey scent at each moment of contact. I decided to stop following a professional glass track when I realized how precious and fragile the final result inevitably was.

DC: What is the favorite thing you’ve ever made? Why?
CW: Public Seating. I simply bolted wooden seats to stop sign posts in my neighborhoods (Providence RI and Brooklyn NY) and watched so many people use them. I reproduced the slick aesthetic of street furniture
to camoflage my project- and it passed in public, living incognito. In Rhode Island, the seats were adopted by the city- the graffiti was periodically cleaned off. Sitting is a radical act in spaces designed for shopping or moving.

DC: Is there any material, tool or technique that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learning? What’s interesting to you about this?
CW: Grafting, or “Arborsculpture” as practiced by Richard Reames. The patient labor displayed in his book, “My chair grew an inch this year” is humbling. I yearn for this slowness and relationship to results.

DC: Where do you find inspiration? How does this come out in the work?
CW: Everywhere. From the old man who uses an emptied out Cornflakes box as his briefcase. From mushrooms. From Shape Note singing. From 8 legged chairs. From my mom. From gravity. These enthusiasms manifest themselves as a playful optimism despite most odds.

DC: Where do you see yourself in relation to the current trends towards sustainability, DIY, craft, etc.? How has your relationship to these things changed over time?

CW: I am trying to “be the change” rather than preach it. I am engaged in a practice of not-looking-away: researching where everything I buy comes from, including my salary. Since reading Michael Pollan, I am a vegetarian and buy food at my local co-op and CSA.

Shaker Residence

DC: Where do you place yourself in relation to a craft tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about your primary influences related to craft?
CW: I am inspired by the Shakers, a group led by a woman two centuries ago, seeing making as “faith in practice” and supporting unconventional communal living with craft sales to “The World.”

DC: What advice would you give to someone just starting out in craft/making?
CW: Be as self-aware as possible. I am impatient, and many projects are a struggle between my desire for results and the reality of each material’s time demands. I have learned to fight frustration and also when I should accept my personality and work with sensual, “sloppy” materials that better adhere to my sensual practice, where scratches are impossible.

Tagged: caroline woolard, deep craft, glassblowing, INTERVIEW, making, ourgoods.org, shaker

I’m continuing to feature an ongoing series of interviews and studio visits with other makers/artisans/crafters. If you would like to introduce yourself and your work to a growing Deep Craft network, I invite you to visit the PARTICIPATE page of this site. Meanwhile, allow me to introduce you to Anthony Bevilacqua, painter/gilder.

DC: Describe what you do.
AB: I’m a painter and a gilder and a conservator of gilded objects.

DC: Was there a childhood experience that you believe influenced you later or led you in a particular direction regarding craft or making?
AB: My parents subscribed to a Time/Life series of  books; Masters of Art– I don’t remember the actual series title—I was about nine or ten—they would come once a month and I was  amazed, and can remember the sense of anticipation of a new one coming…..I was  particularly attached to Leonardo drawings, and Durer prints.

DC: What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to gain proficiency with a material or set of skills? Did you have a ‘breakthrough’ moment?
AB: It was not necessarily overcoming—but sort of learning to ignore—a whole world of more or less well intentioned, but very sloppily reasoned theories , of What Art Is!
I  haven’t had anything I would call a breakthrough moment regarding proficiency—and I’m still becoming aware that paintings and their framing is a profoundly counterintuitive art in itself.

DC: Do you have any superstitions connected with making?                                         AB: It may be a superstitious thing to procrastinate, but I’m not sure.

DC: What comes first when you are making – formal constraints, functional parameters, a gesture, etc.?
AB: The first thing is probably what you call formal: the desire to realize in fact what you have only imagined. With painting, the start is often some ambiguous theme that I find meaningful, and the realization takes place in a sort of trance. In gilding and conservation work the goal is concrete and it’s achieved relatively methodically.

DC: What attracts you to a certain handmade thing?
AB: I don’t know!

DC: Do you have a favorite thing?

AB: After much consideration, I realize that I really don’t: I have many.

DC: Do you have a favorite tool? Why?
AB: I have several very large old sable hair round watercolor brushes that perform beautifully for gilding, and I got them at a going out of business sale for a ridiculously low price. Some people get attached to things they spent a lot on, I love bargains I’ve found. But knowing now how important this type of brush is, I wouldn’t hesitate to pay the real price if I lost these.

DC: What is the favorite thing you’ve ever made? Why?
AB: I have some favorites now—but ask me next month and the answer will have changed.

DC: When making something where is your concentration- on the present activity or on its desired result, or something else altogether?
AB: When I was younger, I was what they call “in the moment”, when drawing from life, especially. As time went on, I noticed that I was sometimes almost daydreaming but that too sort of faded away, and now I’m often just vaguely impatient; kind of not unpleasantly irritible or aggitated; desiring to see the thing I’ve planned. I don’t think it’s always necessary to concentrate in a self conscious way on the work at hand—I don’t mean to imply that I’m half asleep—only that my focus doesn’t accept being forced.

DC: Is there any material, tool or technique that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learning? What’s interesting to you about this?
AB: I’ve taken woodcarving workshops and find it terribly attractive but am aware of how overwhelmingly time consuming it would be to arrive at anything like proficiency. And expensive, with all the chisels….
My wife and I go to Rome as much as we can, and ever since first going ten years ago, I have been bowled over by the ancient marbles that are  all over the place, architectural fragments as well as figures—I have no real desire to be a sculptor, but I look upon those things as being the final word in many ways. What a shame we can’t see what they were like when painted and gilded…people are fond of saying how gaudy they must have been, brightly painted etc; but it’s obvious to me there must have been serious artistry in the coloring, just as there was in the carving. Why should we imagine a lack of subtlety?

DC: Where do you find inspiration? How does this come out in the work?
AB: As I said, ancient art is invariably inspiring to me, –unfortunately so, because I find that under that influence I often do terrible work—what I’m capable of is so poor in comparison. Seeing American 19th C. landscapes that have retained their original frames, also gives me a deep desire to work; they have a slightly formulaic, but exceedingly skillful decorativeness—and this is not something I turn my nose up at. The frames themselves are often a revelation.

DC: Where do you see yourself in relation to the current trends towards sustainability, DIY, craft, etc.? How has your relationship to these things changed over time?
AB: The availability of  lots of very obscure and esoteric materials related to my art and craft is a  marvel—vendors both old and new go to a great deal of trouble bringing these things to a rather miniscule marketplace. At the same time, I often want or need to make things from the ground up, or at least as much as possible. In consumer culture, being a craftsman can sometimes feel like just a complicated way of saying “ I know where to buy the right things!” That’s a shame, sort of, if it means that the depth of your knowledge is limited to your supply sources.

DC: Where do you place yourself in relation to a craft tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about your primary influences related to craft?
AB: I have what I  like to describe as an unconditional love for The Italian Baroque. Not just the over-the topness of it, not the shockingness of it; not the Glam Baroque—I love the germ of the neoclassical in it—the enormous fund of skill brought to bear on giving form to art—
Hawthorne has a chapter in The Marble Faun called, I think “ on the emptiness of picture galleries” in which he criticizes the apparent emptiness, the lack of truly deep or earnest religious or ethical feeling in The Baroque. The modern viewer tends to simply disparage the politics: Aristocrats and Cardinals aren’t our ideal of patrons, and we feel certain we don’t share their Ideals of culture. If contemporary artists take it at all as a steppingstone for new work, it’s inevitably for the apparent perverseness….
And there’s a type of painter now,whose earnest desire to embody authoritative skill under the heading of Classical, yields the driest, most wooden absence of skill….the antithesis of The Baroque.
And yet to my mind, the marriage of the arts and crafts in which each is a fully participating partner occurs there.
DC: What advice would you give to someone just starting out in craft/making?
AB: I’d be glad to give specific input to any questions or problems someone might be having, but in general, actually, I’ve been so bad at taking good advice I’ve gotten, that I’m embarassed to offer any of my own.

Tagged: anthony bevilacqua, contemporary art, gilding, INTERVIEW, italian baroque, painting

I’m continuing to feature an ongoing series of interviews and studio visits with other makers/artisans/crafters. If you would like to introduce yourself and your work to a growing Deep Craft network, I invite you to visit the PARTICIPATE page of this site. Meanwhile, allow me to introduce you to Matt Bua, artist/builder.

DC: What you do?

MB: Construct small outdoor structures (under 12×12 ft) that are designed for the public’s use. Small Museums, Sheds, Roadside attractions.
DC: Was there a childhood experience that you believe influenced you later or led you in a particular direction regarding craft or making?

MB: The first time it rained while I sat inside my Dresser fort, I remained dry. I knew it was a good thing.

DC: What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to gain proficiency with a material or set of skills? Did you have a ‘breakthrough’ moment?

MB: The constant act of building has been the jumping of many obstacles along the way. When I switched from temporary installations to Permanent out-door structures and a friend said,
“Matt , you know you can’t use dry wall screws for exterior building”
I didn’t, and I haven’t since.

DC: Do you have any superstitions connected with making?

MB: I get lots of warnings as I build that tell me to slow down…
I try hard to listen to every one of them.

DC: What comes first when you are making – formal constraints, functional parameters, a gesture, etc.?

MB: Simple gestures, one-liner jokes and concepts come first.
Other wise it’s a specific site or material that just says “USE ME”

DC: What attracts you to a certain handmade thing?

MB: That it’s possible, when you disregard the rigid rules and regulations written by the overlords of building.

DC: Do you have a favorite thing?

MB: As we were digging into the side of the hill for the sauna foundation, we uncovered this big rock (around 4×4x5ft) which became the base for the woodstove. Up close it looks like a prehistoric platypus type creature’s skull.

DC: Do you have a favorite tool? Why?

MB: Rope, the trees seem to like it best, very versatile too.

DC: What is the favorite thing you’ve ever made? Why?

MB: Each new structure
“the reward of the thing well done is to have done it”  Ralph Waldo Emerson

DC: When making something where is your concentration- on the present activity or on its desired result, or something else altogether?

MB: It’s nice if it’s all three… open to the possibilities, reacting to the situations and keeping your eye on the prize….hold on

DC: Is there any material, tool or technique that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learning? What’s interesting to you about this?

MB: Those drawings in the “How to Install a Well” with the two folks holding on to the well drilling tool that you rent. It looks easy, but in Upstate NY’s rocky ground, I doubt it. So I just dig. I’m interested in knowing the source of my drinking water.

DC: Where do you find inspiration? How does this come out in the work?

MB: It’s obvious to me when builders love to build with the materials they choose, All that funk-i-tecture slaps the square houses in the face in a fun loving  way. Free building can be free if you keep your eyes peeled for the piles on the side of the road that says “free”

DC: Where do you see yourself in relation to the current trends towards sustainability, DIY, craft, etc.? How has your relationship to these things changed over time?

MB: They’ve always been there for me, but as things move forward they come into focus. It’s a natural common sense progression. You can either lug a bunch of concrete down a hill or stack some stones up and dig up some clay on the site

DC: Where do you place yourself in relation to a craft tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about your primary influences related to craft?

MB: I’ve never thought about this, but sometimes I’ll do something and stand back and say “that’s crafty”
I do appreciate it when the old neighbor sticks his head over the fence and says “ ya know, If I were you I’d really think about….”

DC: What advice would you give to someone just starting out in craft/making?

MB: Do what you love and then there is no questions whether it’s worth it.

To view more of Matt’s work in uptsate New  York, please click here or here.

Tagged: deep craft, funkitecture, matt bua, vernacular architecture

I’m beginning to feature an ongoing series of interviews and studio visits with other makers/artisans/crafters. If you would like to introduce yourself and your work to a growing Deep Craft network, I invite you to visit the PARTICIPATE page of this site. Meanwhile, allow me to introduce you to Jason Takeuchi-Krist, blacksmith.

DC: Please describe what you do as a maker/artisan.

JTK: I’m a blacksmith primarily, meaning most of my projects involve me sweating at an anvil, swinging a hammer. I also incorporate fabrication and materials other than steel, at times.

DC: Was there a childhood experience that you believe influenced you later or led you in a particular direction regarding craft or making?
JTK: My father was a big DIY guy when I was a kid, so I guess I’ve been trying to live up to that example for years. I grew up on a ranch in Sonoma County, and I think the idea of self-sufficiency was drilled in early.

DC: What was the biggest obstacle you had to overcome to gain proficiency with a material or set of skills? Did you have a ‘breakthrough’ moment?

JTK: I worked for years as a restaurant cook and chef, and I find the proficiency arc of smithing similar to cooking. You do have some obvious breakthroughs, here and there, but mostly it’s about putting in the time ’til physical technique and mental thought process form that intuitive link.

DC: Do you have any superstitions connected with making?

JTK: I don’t think it’s exactly superstitious, but some days I start, and then walk away, because I have a sense things might not go well if I continue. There are those days when you feel you might make a mistake or hurt yourself; it probably is more a feeling that you are not present enough at the time. Happens less the longer I do this.

DC: What comes first when you are making – formal constraints, functional parameters, a gesture, etc.?

JTK: It depends on the job, but if given a free hand in design, I usually start by thinking thematically. I have a style, which has developed naturally over time, but I can design outside of that box. Function is always a foremost concern, and I do design, but I always leave room for spontaneous action to occur once I’m at the forge.

DC: What attracts you to a certain handmade thing?

JTK: I enjoy seeing a certain kernel of chaos mixed with strong technique. Fussy products tend to turn me off a little.

DC: Do you have a favorite tool? Why?

JTK: As a blacksmith, I make a lot of my own tools, and I love that part of It. Honestly, tools are a form of porn for me! It’s not sexual, mind you, but it does seem almost fetishistic. I think it’s the same for a lot of craftspeople. Tool stores are the only place I can browse indefinitely with no intention to buy! My hammers are probably my favorites.

DC: What is the favorite thing you’ve ever made? Why?

JTK: A fireplace stand and tools I made for a friend. The stand is a 3′ tall dragon, holding her babies (the tools, which have dragon head handles). It was quite difficult, but highly rewarding. It’s hard to price something like that; the investment of time and energy was ridiculous.

DC: When making something where is your concentration- on the present activity or on its desired result, or something else altogether?

JTK: It depends. Some operations require complete concentration-there are a number of things that can go wrong, so you need to really see what’s happening from multiple angles. That kind of concentration has to always be present, but sometimes there’s more of a zen intuitive thing happening in the fore. Hammer shaping is that way.

DC: Is there any material, tool or technique that really intrigues you that you’ve never gotten around to learning?

JTK: I’d like to learn casting of iron, bronze, etc. I think it would open up some interesting possibilities coupled with forged work.

DC: Where do you find inspiration? How does this come out in the work?

JTK: Many sources. It sounds corny to say I look to nature, but I do look at trees and plants; strange growth patterns. I’m inspired by industrial wastelands. I love looking at ancient industrial machinery. I also read contemporary design magazines for ideas. Ironwork has a natural tendency to look industrial, but I always try to bring organic elements into it. And I’m always trying figure out how to bring modernism to it as well, which is a challenge.

DC: Where do you see yourself in relation to the current trends towards sustainability, DIY, craft, etc.? How has your relationship to these things changed over time?

JTK: I got into blacksmithing after periods of woodworking and welding, among other things. My Intention was probably more about moving backward than forward. I wanted to feel like I could actually produce something of permanence in a world where more and more that we possess is made by some underpaid third world laborer. I came to realize how many others there are out there with the same idea over time, and to a large extent through my relationship with Oakland’s The Crucible. That’s a big place full of people getting back to those roots.

DC: Where do you place yourself in relation to a craft tradition or heritage? Could you talk a bit about your primary influences related to craft?

JTK: Blacksmithing is certainly one of the oldest craft traditions. I’m proud to carry it on in my small way. I know that I am but a flyspeck in the lineage, but that’s cool. It moves forward. I was heavily influenced by the smiths that taught me- Chris Niemer at the Crucible taught me a ton, and I picked up a lot at the shop of Jim Austin in Oakland. He’s a master smith, and just watching is a seminar. I also study the work of other smiths, old and new. I learn by watching the work of any great craftspeople- it doesn’t have to be metalwork.

DC: What advice would you give to someone just starting out in craft/making?

JTKL Figure out a place to set up a shop. It doesn’t have to be big, but you need a place to work. Build your tools and equipment over time; there’s no point in spending a bunch of money at the outset. Later on you’ll have a much better Idea of exactly what you need. Take your time and build technique through repetition. It leads to a much greater enjoyment of the actual process and lessens the urge to just get it done. And in the end, it’s about the making, not just the having.

You can go here to see more of Jason’s metalwork.

Tagged: blacksmith, Crucible, deep craft interview, Jason Takeuchi-Krist