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Wisper’s life resembles an uncanny stack of page-turners. Conversations with him dredge up metaphors, tuned specifically to the relationship between identity and outcome. Subjective as art and truth may be, the sublime coincidences within his experiences hint at more.

As teenagers, Wisper and his best friends—Sno, Poe, Shen Shen, and Bizr—formed the intersection of two arts groups: Together We Create, a collective of muralists (est. 1985), and LORDS Crew (Legends of Rare Designs, est. 1986), a graffiti crew whose members grew out of San Jose and drew international attention. For this tight group of young, talented artists, the potential for fame was palpable. But certain threads split the chapters of their lives into unraveled dichotomies. For Wisper, a path of criminality handed him a prison sentence of 26 to life—ultimately, an unknowable length of time for truth, beauty, justice, and their rivals to battle through his mind like
restless gods.

He vividly remembers the first time he caught injustice red-handed. As the middle sibling in his mother’s home at the time, it baffled him that after his father’s death, social security payments owed to his mother—$300 per child—couldn’t bring the family clothes, food, or rent installments. He and his brothers were eating rice every day that summer. Then one night, as he performed his usual chore of cleaning his stepfather’s car, he found Burger King wrappers. Claims didn’t match the evidence. 

 

“If you can learn how to operate from a place of peace while creating art, you can learn how to operate from a place of peace in all aspects of
your life.” _Wisper

There was little he could do about it, other than rebel. As a creative kid with a knack for detail, Wisper looked for his identity in spaces where originality shined. In the world of hip-hop, among b-boys, DJs, and rappers, Wisper was hooked by the wave of graffiti that made its way over from the East Coast, bringing with it a culture that admired innovation. As the LORDS Crew formed and grew its membership, some of his friends and fellow founding members went to vocational school to pursue
graphic design.

But for Wisper, gang membership stood out as the most attractive option. “Everything I was seeking—unconditional love, loyalty, recognition, notoriety, reputation, education—they were giving it.” His gift for teaching was cultivated by their discipline. He could come up with illustrations and analogies to help someone else learn and memorize the codes of membership, without having to write a single word.

The last year Wisper did graffiti was 1988. The following year he was arrested. Once inside prison, faced with a life sentence, he found no reason to change. To survive, he leveraged his street education and climbed the ranks until he was running the yard. The attention and his gang affiliation eventually sent him to solitary confinement in 1994, with other men in solitary confinement “deemed incorrigible.” 

In the monotony, Wisper contemplated the value of his life. His path into crime had been a gradual progression of “becoming more and more empty.” As he explains today, “People who commit crimes don’t understand value. If I steal from you, if I vandalize your house…I don’t value you as a person. If my life doesn’t mean something, no one else’s does either.” Even a cup, he reasoned, had worth. It was created for a purpose. Yet like a cup left on the shelf, here he was, a human being locked away in sensory deprivation. If his life had purpose, it couldn’t come from this environment, not from his upbringing, his heritage, or ideologies—which he had been willing to die for. And which he was still affiliated with.

He knew he wanted to change, but change only began when he mustered the courage to revoke his prison gang status, fully aware of the punishment to follow. 

Wisper credits supernatural intervention in the events that actually occurred once he lost his status. By the code, he should have died in prison—killed by his own cellmate to protect the rest of the gang. But his life was spared. By the law, he should have been rejected for parole. Involvement with prison gangs was deemed a greater offense than the crime that sentenced him in the first place. But the inmates who would have reported him had been removed from the yard weeks before his arrival.

By the time Wisper came home in 2013, nearly 24 years had passed. His former collaborator, Bizr, had written “FREE WISPER TOUR” on every art piece until Bizr’s passing in 2013, eight months before Wisper’s release. Of the friends who had kept in touch with him, Mesngr was the only one still in San Jose, doing art shows. As he slowly readjusted to life back in society, Wisper decided his goal was to “get my art out, make some money, provide for myself and my family.” 

Wisper began looking for opportunities, at times initiating them by reaching out to connections and bringing plywood for the artists to live paint on. As he formed the groundwork to revitalize Together We Create, he also accepted opportunities to speak at high schools and colleges. There were youth who wanted to learn graffiti, and Wisper saw the chance to share about his mistakes so they could make better decisions. 

“That’s where I developed a curriculum of teaching peace,” he explains. Acting from a place of courage is revered, but in that state, fear is still present—“you’re acting in spite of fear.” He teaches his mentees to accept responsibility for where they’re at and to apply a faith-based practice until they can believe in themselves. “If you don’t know who you are, you can’t create unique art.” 

There are still threads to unravel. To this day, he fights to control the blaze of anger that slices through at injustice. Just like in his youth, he feels the pressure to stay on guard, to secure himself and his safety. “After 24 years of living like that, you don’t just come home and start expressing emotions.” But he knows himself, and he values his life. That deep sense of peace is unshakeable. Hanging around Wisper, friends might not notice how calm and collected he is until he laughs—then, they’re caught by the irreversible, unforgettable belly laugh flying out of him.

This year marks nine years since his release—nine years of using his freedom to help youth secure their self-identity. Often called on to speak and share his story, he is in the final stages of publishing three books that he hopes will aid their discernment. Wisper believes that all people hold a sense of justice, beauty, and truth—but an absence of self-identity spawns a perilous emptiness. “If you’re empty your whole life,” he says, “you don’t know what full is.” 

His mission now is to inspire others to create art from a secure sense of identity, free of the pressure to fit a label or hide under a mask. “If you can learn how to operate from a place of peace while creating art,” he promises, “you can learn how to operate from a place of peace in all aspects of your life.” 

Tracing Roots: Trinh Mai Finds the Beauty in Life through Honoring Cultural Heritage

Heart first, Trinh Mai aims to bring people together through art. Finding comfort in
color and peace in faith, her multidisciplinary works honor her Vietnamese cultural
heritage and shine a light on larger stories
of shared humanity.

“We have to draw strength from our community work, the people we love, art, and hope. We are drawing from a transcendent source. All beauty comes from that process of discovery.”

-Trinh Mai

Trinh Mai’s love of art is deep, rooted in family history, connecting past and present. As Trinh describes, she thinks in branches—uncovering stories—in search of healing, hope, and community. Her art is a prayer, a process of discovery, honoring her cultural heritage and family.

Shaped by her family’s experience escaping Vietnam during the War in 1975, Trinh uses art as a language to connect hearts to the stories of loved ones. Having passed through many countries, including the Philippines and Guam, on their journey to the United States, Trinh’s family arrived in Pennsylvania at one of four refugee camps in the US at the time. Born in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, Trinh moved to Southern California at a young age and lived with extended family while her parents moved to Silicon Valley during the ’80s tech boom to find work. Trinh attributes her creative energy to her parents, who were both very meticulous, creative, and clever. Her dad nurtured a green thumb and loved cultivating bonsai trees. Trinh’s love of nature and desire to connect to the land threads through her work in symbolism and materiality. Trinh co-creates her art with history, informed by the heirlooms and stories of her family and the deep feeling of responsibility to honor her culture and share that love with the wider community. 

“One of the things that the elders and people in general fear is being forgotten. And not just that they are forgotten, but their history is forgotten, the history of [their] people, the ways that [they] arrived here, traditions, food, family lineages, and the sacrifices they made. What a shame it would be to forget about the sacrifices that were made for us to be here. My fear is that their fear will be realized. It’s both a blessing and a burden to carry this responsibility to share. But one of the things that has encouraged the elders through my art is not just that they see themselves and I’m honoring their lives, but also knowing that the younger generation cares and wants to carry on the history. When families see heritage being passed down and honored, it takes that fear away. And it’s not just descendants that are inheriting that culture, it’s also the wider community that we are sharing it with.”

Trinh’s favorite mediums are oil paint and charcoal, but oil on canvas is her first true love and how she found her voice. Trinh’s love of oil painting began at San Jose State University (SJSU), creating abstract paintings. Painting on large canvases felt like creating an all-encompassing environment that she could step into. During her studies at SJSU, Trinh encountered a Mark Rothko painting at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Initially skeptical of his work, seeing it in person was a very pivotal and transformational experience for her. It opened her eyes to how art could convey spiritual essence through color and form. Finding herself standing in front of the Rothko painting, Trinh was “consumed by the cadmium red.” Describing the experience as deeply real, it opened her heart to what she wanted her work to accomplish.

“I wanted to make paintings like that, so true to what they are that they speak for themselves. I would like for whatever spirit is living inside the painting to speak. I don’t need to be a part of that conversation, but I think maybe my role is to have an intimate relationship with the work, and then the work has its own relationship with the viewer.” 

Trinh describes her relationship to art as “salvation to the fullest,” born out of a desperate need to find comfort through life’s hardships. Through abstract art, Trinh found her footing and fell in love with the comfort, light, and life that art brought about.

“As I started maturing in the art and really taking it seriously, I realized it’s teaching me to see, the art of observation. I realized that was the main lesson, and once I embraced that, I saw how free I could feel painting boxes and spheres.”

As a multidisciplinary artist, Trinh describes her use of various mediums as a beautiful and fulfilling symbiotic relationship, with each medium teaching her unique lessons. She appreciates the labor and lessons that each provides, allowing her to excavate ideas by digging deeply through experimentation. For example, stitching teaches her to slow down, be careful, and have patience. From painting portraits to writing poetry, Trinh creates her work from a place of deep intentionality. Art has opened doors for Trinh to speak to universal truths of unified humanity. “I started discovering things about my family history that are shared by so many other people, not just Vietnamese refugees, but people all over the world.” Motivated by a desire to serve the community, Trinh finds purpose in discovering the beauty of life that can arise despite tragedy. “I feel that my responsibility is to offer life to stories to give comfort to other people.” Art gives life back to objects and stories and sows seeds for future generations. Sharing these stories cultivates a shared cultural heritage. 

Driven to discover what it means to have an intimate relationship with God, Trinh is deeply thankful for her faith and the peace and purpose that it brings her in daily life. For Trinh, it all comes back to an essential question: “In the midst of life’s trials, where do we turn for strength? We have to draw strength from our community work, the people we love, art, and hope. We are drawing from a transcendent source. All beauty comes from that process of discovery.” 

trinhmai.com
Instagram: @trinhmaistudios

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you’re familiar with graffiti culture, when you did pieces or if you were going around looking at other pieces, pictures were the way you collected [them],” he shares. “It was like collecting baseball cards.”

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

A 2003 trip to London changed that. His time in the UK happened to coincide with a series of worldwide protests in opposition to the pending Iraq War. He captured the massive demonstration, shooting so much film that he had to ask strangers for more cash to buy extra rolls. When he showed his friends the results, they
were amazed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

brainsoiled.com
pagesstacked.bigcartel.com
Instagram: diggingsoundcollectkeptabsorbed

Article originally appeared in Issue 13.3 “Perform”

With every show Derrick played with his band Sine Wave, he transformed tension into a story for justice.

Whether you met Derrick Sanderlin at an open mic four or five years ago or saw one of his bands performing onstage or met him as a barista at Roy’s Station Coffee and Teas or read about him in the news last summer, this post-COVID season finds him in coalescence with all parts of his identity—art, Black culture, and his calling.

Heading to his hometown of Phelan, off the I-15 exit, you can’t miss the house displaying a Confederate flag underneath the American one. When he was young, Derrick learned to assimilate to make friends.

“When I started seriously playing music, I was not super aware of my own Blackness.”

Throughout his teenage years, a tension fluttered in his chest. He had a yearning to resolve something unnamed. With his father a pastor, Derrick had grown up singing hymns and spirituals with his siblings. Here he forged his own creative space. Listening to hardcore metal and playing in punk bands ultimately brought him his first guitar, gifted to him by his group’s lead guitarist.

Derrick became obsessed. Any fingerstyle, any scale, “I wanted to learn everything there was to learn,” he said. He played it till it broke. After moving to Riverside, where he lived in communes for a few years, he began to write his own music. Widely inspired by “ridiculous writers and feelers” such as Iron & Wine and Bon Iver, he entered Riverside’s tightknit open mic scene. One day, Derrick sat with his friends discussing the sparsity of venues for musicians to play at for free. He voiced an idea to boost Riverside’s creative ecosystem: “What if we just, like, throw a show…and make a documentary?”

So he organized it. Leveraging a personal connection to a movie theater located inside an art gallery his girlfriend worked at, they packed out the theater. Their documentary illustrated the value of elevating relationships for any music scene.

“Oftentimes musicians can think of the scene as the industry, so it becomes a very competitive space,” Derrick explains. “The only reason I had friends for the documentary is because…we would invite each other to play at our shows.”

Cayla, his girlfriend, had moved up to San Jose for an internship. Every time he visited, he caught a glimpse of the work she did with her organization, such as fighting the building of charter schools in the Washington neighborhood and visiting the Jungle homeless encampment before it was shut down. Back in Riverside, Derrick struggled through his daily grind. He had “No real good job. Was barely paying rent. Not eating every day,” he remembers. He was taking college classes for the opportunity to dance. Then, through a sociology course, he read statistics that showed how educated Black males make 50 percent less (sometimes 80 percent less) than their white counterparts having the same amount of education.

“I looked at those statistics, like, ‘Whoa, that’s me. I’m in those statistics.’ It put words to something I already knew.” He realized Cayla was going to stay in San Jose to continue her work as a youth mentor— and that work resonated with him.

In 2014, Derrick moved to the Bay Area. His first job in the Bay placed him in downtown Oakland during the height of the Black Lives Matter movement. “Pretty much every day I was working, there was a protest at the end of the night…I

started slowly dipping my toes into some action.” In San Jose, he began volunteering with People Acting in Community Together to boost police accountability and lessen the involvement between Immigration and Customs Enforcement and the county. Derrick also started working part-time at Roy’s and married Cayla in November of 2015.

“Riverside was a place where I fell in love with the idea of organizing,” he says, “but San Jose is the place where I learned what it means.”

The next few years were a blur for him: He had begun attending open mics, and his performances impressed scene connectors like Mighty Mike McGee and with Grizzly Rob, who invited him to play more shows. In the summer of 2019, he landed an artist residency at Forager Tasting Room & Eatery, where he formed his band, Sine Wave. Just like in Riverside, he brought other musicians and poets onstage with him to tell the stories he wanted to tell.

Sine Wave allowed him to express the latest progression of his internal journey. Despite half his family heritage coming from Louisiana, his social mold had consisted of mostly white, Republican, desert towns.

“When I started seriously playing music, I was not super aware of my own Blackness,” he reflects, but the ever-present tension of racial identity—crossed with uncertainty in his personal life—reveals itself in his lyrics. An early recording of “Drapes,” buried nine years back on Derrick’s SoundCloud page, dresses the same raw lyrical poetry in a very different sonic atmosphere than on his 2018 Ghetto EP. Over fingerpicked guitars, Derrick’s voice fills the sonic space with mournful confession. As layers of vocals build towards the song’s climax, the blues overwhelm whatever lightness filtered through his delivery of the first lines. With the newer recording, punctuated with syncopated claps and shakers, “I think I was feeling the sadness in a different way,” Derrick reflects. “It just felt like the pain was the pentatonic scale—bending and snapping more than it was floating or sounding like a harp.” With every show Derrick played with Sine Wave, or with his other project, Rhythm & Folk, he transformed this old tension into a story for justice.

Then, in June 2020, he faced an even greater pain to transmute. During the height of last summer’s protests for Black lives, Derrick was shot by an officer while defending a group of young protesters from close-range rubber bullets. He was alone in the hospital when he was informed his injury could prevent him from having children. When he heard that, he only wanted to go home, rest, and “just stay off on the sidelines.”

But instead, Derrick was uplifted by the relationships he had forged—teaching implicit bias training, serving coffee at Roy’s, and elevating other musicians and poets. A mural was painted in his honor, along with the message “Don’t Hurt Our Friends: Demand Accountability.” A resolution to defund police presence in schools cited Derrick’s story and name and publicized the proposals in an open letter to San Jose Unified School District.

He felt overwhelmed, but it was a feeling of love. “It has, in some ways, made me more fierce. And honest. Because it’s easy to edit yourself when you’re a Black person in America and you don’t wanna be labeled as angry. But I was tired of being afraid of that, and it feels really good not to be afraid of that. That’s a part of, I think, the Black tradition—which is being able to channel my rage.”

Now, as a community organizer for Sacred Heart, Derrick helps others who feel unsafe to strategize their demands for permanent housing, alternative responses to police calls, and better funding for programs that center their livelihoods.

He has found himself deep within his calling, where the hunger of this world and the gladness of his heart coalesce.

 

derricksanderlin.com
Instagram: derrick_andstuff

 

 

MIKE!
Beware of the Monkey
(10k)
Release date: December 21, 2022
Written by Demone Carter

I am not ashamed to admit that sometimes I’m a slow learner. The best new rap records don’t always catch my ear immediately. Such was the case with Michael Jordan Bonema, better known to rap fans as MIKE! Despite the critical acclaim of releases like Weight of the World and Disco! I had filed MIKE! away with a glut of rappers working in the shadows of Earl Sweatshirt’s genius. I am somewhat ashamed to admit it was a Tommy Hilfiger advertisement that changed my mind. The fashion brand commissioned a four-song mixtape which features MIKE! spitting alongside the New Jersey sidewinder Wiki on tracks produced by the Alchemist. 

Perhaps Alchemist production brings out the best in everyone, but all of sudden I was locked in on MIKE! and his unorthodox approach. His style is both drunken and precise. He doesn’t flow so much as sway, entrancing the listener with a pendulum-like cadence. As a recent MIKE! convert, I went into his latest album, Beware of the Monkey, with somewhat high expectations. And this record delivers. 

The thing about MIKE! that jumps off the track, is his tone of voice—low and penetrating. There is a sadness in his voice, but it also seems like he is rapping with a smile. The production is handled by DJ Blackpower, whose beats seem to form and disintegrate at will. MIKE weaves in and out of each track with melancholic ease. Songs like “nuthin I can do is wrng” and “Light” (rivers of love) showcase MIKE’s talent for evoking nuanced emotions that exist between joy and sadness. Subjects like grief, sibling bonds, or fear of failure are dealt with in a way that feels heartfelt and authentic without being overly sentimental. The standout track is the song “Wake Up,” which is a collaboration with reggae legend Sister Nancy whose 1982 rendition of the song “What A Bam Bam” continues to echo through pop culture. Beyond the sticker shock of the Sister Nancy feature, the song “Wake Up” really works as MIKE! is somehow perfect for this ’80s-inflected reggae tune. Overall it’s a great album and hopefully a harbinger of great things for one of my new favorites.  

Favorite Track: “Wake Up”

store.10k.global

 

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KENNY BEATS
Louie
(XL Recordings)
Release date: August 31, 2022
Written by Brandon Roos

Since 2018, Kenny Beats has proven himself a relentless creative and pliable producer with a list of collaborators that includes rappers Rico Nasty, Vince Staples, and Freddie Gibbs as well as rock groups Trash Talk and IDLES. Despite keeping busy behind the boards, he had yet to officially craft a solo project. 

Kenny contends that he had nothing to say. That changed when he discovered in late 2021 that his father had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Louie is his creative response to a trying time.

The beats begin in earnest with “Parenthesis,” where crisp snare hits merge with soulful, pitched vocals. Understated horn stabs, string section samples, and quick weaving synth leads add lushness without weighing down the composition. “Hold My Head” is a clear standout, dealing in the currency of current rap sonics while utilizing a rhythmic framework indebted to golden era greats.

Knowing the inspiration behind this album, the sampled lyrics on “Eternal,” taken from Shira Small’s “Eternal Life,” feel poignant: “Eternal life is the intersection of the line of time and the plane of now. We live forever.” Coupled with contemplative keys, the song feels like a meditation on existence and mortality.

“Still” may just be the most soulful beat of the bunch. Kenny sends the song into the stratosphere by adding moody supporting vocals atop simple, punchy drum programming, all in service to a tasteful flip of Linda Kemp’s gospel tune “I Can’t Stop.” JPEGMAFIA’s energetic, amended verse somehow adds another emotive ingredient to the musical stew, an obvious instance of Kenny’s magic touch in action. 

There’s no established style or sonic touch point that reigns supreme. Instead, what shines through is Kenny’s keen ability to stitch together the old and new, the sampled and supplemented, the humorous and heartfelt, in thoughtful, organic ways. Though Louie never feels like it’s drawing too much attention to itself, when the notes finally die down at the end of the slow burn intensity of “Hot Hand,” it becomes quite clear why Kenny is so in demand. 

Favorite Track: “Still” 

kennybeats.bandcamp.com/album/louie

 

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Homeboy Sandman 
12 Days of Christmas and Dia De Los Reyes 
(Dirty Looks)
Release date: January 6, 2023
Written by Demone Carter 

Homeboy Sandman is one of underground rap’s true eccentrics. A master craftsman with words, he has released a deluge of albums over the past decade. What separates Homeboy Sandman from his contemporaries is his uncompromising weirdness. A contrarian’s contrarian, the New York rapper has made a point of going against the grain in a way that feels true to himself. 

Case in point is the title of his latest album, 12 Days of Christmas and Dia De Los Reyes. Released on January 6, 2023, via Dirty Looks Records, the album name references the “Twelve Days of Christmas” carol and the Dia De Los Reyes (Day of the three kings) which is observed in much of Latin America and Spain on January sixth. Given the album’s release date, the title kind of makes sense. But also making an album named after Christmas, weeks after the holidays, and having nothing to do with Christmas or Dia De Los Reyes content-wise is just the type of head scratcher one would expect from Homeboy Sandman. 

Each track is named after a different day of Christmas (and of course Dia De Los Reyes) but the track titles are merely place holders for the Sandman’s handy work. Each beat feels like an experiment in rhythmic cadence, the boy Sand (as he often refers to himself) proving his mettle on different tempos and syncopated samples. Seemingly mundane everyday observations are mixed in with motivational self-help themes and of course emcee braggadocio. One of the standout tracks is “Third Day of Christmas” where Homeboy Sandman makes the following observations: “Made it to the farmers market / From the days of the farting armpit.”

The production duties are handled by a collection of beat makers, including Peanut Butter Wolf, Illingsworth, and Mono En Stereo (to name a few). The beat palette is sufficiently quirky. The song “Dia De Los Reyes,” in particular, demonstrates how Homeboy Sandman bars really sound great over almost anything, including an up-tempo Salsa sample. 

The only thing this album leaves me wanting for is cohesion. Despite the title and theme/non-theme, there isn’t much to make this feel like an album as opposed to a collection of tracks. All that said, the album is enjoyable, and the song titles may allow me to put it on some Christmas playlists next year. Maybe that was Homeboy Sandman’s plan all along.  

Favorite Track: “Third Day of Christmas”
homeboysandman.bandcamp.com

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Makaya McCraven
In These Times
(International Anthem Records)
Release date: September 23, 2022
Written by Taran Escobar-Ausman

In a way, drummer Makaya McCraven’s new LP, In These Times, completes a cycle. Always a bedroom beatmaker, McCraven started taking recordings of live performances of his band in Chicago, chopping them up, stitching different snippets together, and adding some magical post-production flourishes to create a new sound that he calls “organic beat music.” This resulted in his first aptly-titled release, 2016’s In the Moment. With his second LP, Universal Beings, he played live studio sessions with various collections of musicians on both sides of the Atlantic, similarly rearranged the recordings with his own brand of hip-hop production, but took it a step further by going on tour to play the new rearranged versions live. In These Times is his first release with deliberate compositions, which are now, however, infused with the techniques, slightly off-beat time signatures, and head-nodding complexity developed from those past live shows. 

The magic of finding new rhythmic patterns within the sea of improvised music changed McCraven’s drumming style as he now seamlessly and subtly shifts between off-kilter hip-hop beats and polyrhythmic jazz flourishes. He straddles so many musical worlds that it would almost be sacrilege to simply call his music “jazz,” a term which he states is “offensive at worst and insufficient at best.” Instead, his organic beat music lives in its own musical multiverse, pulling from different genres and eras without garnering any trite labels such as “hybrid” or “fusion.”

“Dream Another’’ sounds like a lost track from Donald Byrd’s Street Lady. A flute, harp, and baby sitar flutter in and out of the melody over a soul-inspired bass line and hypnotic 7/4 hip-hop–like beat. Somehow the track “This Place That Place” simultaneously plays as a funk-jazz piece and hip-hop influenced chamber music. A personal favorite, “So Ubuji,” lulls you in with a gentle, meandering harp and marimba before breaking way for a rare 4/4 head-nodder. You’ll undoubtedly be making your best stank face. The highlight of “The Knew Untitled” is Matt Gold’s guitar work that pulls from the Bill Frisell school of tonality and angular phrasing. 

As McCraven develops and refines his approach to making music he has become an alchemist and enchanter of sorts. There will always be magic to be found in his creations. 

Favorite Track: “So Ubuji”

makayamccraven.com

I t’s a sell-out inside the Continental, with stylish folks from around the Bay Area crowded around a stage to see acclaimed LA trio KING. A handycam captures the groovy bass lines and delicate keyboard comps on a flat-screen television on the back wall, and the crowd shows love from start to finish, enough to earn an encore from the thankful group.

The performance is a watershed moment for the Changing Same (TCS), producers who host a weekly party at the Continental, showcasing musical minds interested in novel approaches to soulful music. On this night, Tommy Aguilar, well-known for bringing acts of this kind to San Jose under the Universal Grammar umbrella, is particularly proud. While a New York Times review may have just brought KING’s name into the mainstream, he’s been eagerly waiting to present the group since hearing their debut EP in 2011.

 “We’re like knives. We sharpen each other. That’s what good friends do. It deepens the sound spectrum, and that’s what makes the unit what it is. You need that.” – Cory Randolph

In a musical world increasingly obsessed with classification, TCS stands out. The night they host is more about a feeling than a certain sound, and the eclectic roster of talent they have presented over the past year is a testament to the night’s diversity. Internationally respected selectors like DJ Neil Armstrong, DJ Proof, and Shortkut have all headlined, as have underground production duo Christian Rich and red-hot Soulection crew mainstays, like J-Louis and SoSuperSam. Live acts have included jazz/electronic innovator Taylor McFerrin, house band Tortured Soul, and vocalist SPZRKT.

On any given week, any or all of the producing group’s four residents maintain the TCS heartbeat: ringleader Tommy Aguilar (Chale Brown, formerly Chatos1013), futurist Mark Gamab (MarkPLSTK), the eclectic Shea Modiri (DJ Shea Butter), and the innately talented Cory Randolph (the CME). DJ Bluz and DJ ThatGirl are regular contributors. So is the night’s spiritual forefather, DJ Sake One, whose weekly San Francisco party Pacific Standard Time (PST) provided a blueprint for TCS’s future success.

When Sake’s party was running in the mid to late 2000s, he remembers PST regulars would occasionally ask if he was familiar with Aguilar’s work in the South Bay. Though Sake can’t quite pin down when they first met, just as with the other TCS residents, Aguilar’s reputation preceded him.

“The Changing Same [production] was a concept that literally came from a conversation me and Tommy had about music and society, the idea that ‘roots’ and urban music forms can [be] and often are the most progressive, quickly evolving, and influential genres,” shares Sake. The name came from the essay, “The Changing Same (R&B and New Black Music),” written in 1966 by African American writer and music critic Amiri Baraka.

“I wanted to bring a live element to a nighttime party—not just DJs,” Aguilar adds. “The Changing Same [concept] was a platform for this modern take on where R&B, soul, and hip-hop were kind of going,” Aguilar points out. “It had electronic elements. There was jazz in there, funk…. It was speaking to all those genres.”

With Pacific Standard Time and Universal Grammar as copresenters, the Changing Same debuted at Mighty in San Francisco in 2007. That night, the party presented LA duo J*Davey. Platinum Pied Pipers soon followed.

Randolph entered the TCS picture around this time, though he started as just an ardent PST attendee. “I was going [to PST] religiously because I was looking for something that catered to my musical tastes,” he says. One night, he finally decided to approach Sake to tell him he was going to be his shadow. Sake laughed, and Randolph insisted he was serious. Thus began a mentorship that helped Randolph finally pursue the art of DJing, a dream he’d had since first attempting to scratch on his Big Bird 45 record player at age four.

After a short hiatus, the Changing Same returned as a monthly series in 2010, this time migrating to the South Bay. With partner Michael Grammar, Aguilar and Universal Grammar presented LA beat scene luminaries like Flying Lotus and Gaslamp Killer in addition to Bilal and Theophilus London. However, Aguilar felt the party was moving away from its original intent, and placed the name on hiatus for a second time in 2011, opting to program under the banner Live at the Pagoda.

Then, in 2014, the Continental opened on South First Street—a new bar and performance space featuring craft cocktails, a hip ambiance, and—most importantly—an incredibly well-tuned sound system.

“It was the perfect room for what I wanted the Changing Same to be, in terms of how it was going to influence [the music scene],” says Aguilar. He soon took over the Thursday night spot, launching TCS as a weekly in January 2015.

Aguilar began assembling his roster of residents. He brought Randolph into the fold, as well as Mark Gamab and Modiri. Just as Randolph was, the two were aware of Aguilar from his work as a promoter. Both considered themselves fans.

“Tommy was bringing people that I wanted to go see, and I just wanted to be involved,” recalls Gamab. He and Modiri had become supporting fixtures for Aguilar’s shows inside the Pagoda, a makeshift performance space that was formerly an Asian fusion restaurant inside the Fairmont.

There’s an undeniable camaraderie among the four in person. Aguilar is in awe of Randolph’s wide-open musical palette, adding, “His ear is just deeper than the rest of us.” Modiri describes Randolph as “the yin to my yang.” It’s a feeling Randolph shares “without question,” adding, “We are kindred spirits. I’m always hearing something I’ve never heard before, and I DJ with him at least once a week.” The other three credit Gamab’s ability to stress the electronic component of the night.

“Everybody’s pushing each other,” notes Randolph. “We’re like knives. We sharpen each other. That’s what good friends do.”

Essentially, the format is not to follow one, giving the residents as much creative space as possible to share the sounds they, and their audience, love. The intent is to educate as much as it is to simply rock a crowd. That freedom remains a pleasant surprise for featured acts, even veterans like Shortkut. As Gamab remembers, “[Shortkut] said it’s one of the only parties where he’s been able to play whatever he wants and the crowd responds to it.”

“The crowds we produce in San Jose, whether they’re coming from the East Bay or San Francisco to join us for those special nights, the energy’s there, man,” adds Aguilar.

The cultivation of TCS as a home for hearing innovative, soulful sounds isn’t simply an outgrowth of Aguilar’s many years of programming locally. As he points out, the attendees from a decade back have largely moved on and started families. TCS has found a new crowd, and that makes Aguilar hopeful for what can be accomplished in his hometown.

“Due to Tommy’s and other people’s work in San Jose, it is arguably a more music-friendly city now than San Francisco is, and equal to Oakland,” says Sake. “The work they put in opens doors for all music lovers in Northern California. They deserve our appreciation and gratitude for that.”

 In time, the crew hopes to export the night to other cities. For now, they’re content to keep playing what will soon be your new favorite song.

“I see cell phones Shazaming, trying to figure out what [song] that was,” says Randolph. “That’s how I know I’m doing a good job—that’s when you know you’re in the right space.”

Tommy Aguilar

instagram: thereal_chalebrown

Cory Randolph

instagram: the_cme

Shea Modiri

djsheabutter.com

instagram: djsheabutter

 

Mark Gamab

instagram: markplstk

Sake One (Featured in issue 9.2)

(not pictured)

instagram: sake1derful

While other children played at house or hospital, Anjelah Johnson stacked books onto an imaginary desk, scattered papers everywhere, and fantasized that she was a stressed-out white-collar worker. “That was my dream growing up,” Anjelah reminisces. “When I become an adult, I’m going to have a messy desk and a phone and be stressed out from a long day at work.” Young Anjelah resolved to be a lawyer—mainly because they worked at desks. But that’s not quite how things turned out. Today, Anjelah works in front of a camera as a standup comic and actress rather than behind a desk.

 

I think my natural gift is the ability to take people on a journey through a story—the ups and downs of the story, the rhythm of the story, the pauses of the story.

Like her unconventional childhood dream job, Anjelah probably doesn’t fit your expectations of a standard comic. For one thing, she prefers watching crime dramas (or as she puts it, “something murder-y”) to sitcoms. If Forensic Files isn’t on, then she’ll settle for Friends. But on a more profound level, Anjelah can’t be reduced to simply her stage presence. When she’s not entertaining under the spotlight, she’s still warm and friendly. She’s still humorous. But her vibe understandably shifts when she isn’t the focal point for a crowd of thousands. Her energy dips an octave into an easygoing assuredness, and her jokes highlight the color of her conversation rather than infuse each and every line. This dynamic is even more evident during a photoshoot, when Anjelah cracks a joke and pulls a silly face at a curious passerby before composing her features into model-serious expressions for the camera.

This entertainer’s delightful sense of humor is an indisputable part of her personality. There are many flavors of comedy, and Anjelah prefers anecdotes over one-liners. “I think my natural gift is the ability to take people on a journey through a story—the ups and downs of the story, the rhythm of the story, the pauses of the story,” she explains. She also possesses quite the arsenal of impersonations and accents.

In fact, one particular accent and her experiences at a nail salon would fuel the launch of her career. It started with a need for material for a free joke-writing class. When Anjelah signed up, she had only recently moved from her Bay Area hometown. She was new to LA, finding her way among the city’s colony of actress hopefuls. For the class, Anjelah wrote about a conversation she’d had with her nail salon lady, Tammy.

The skit was posted on YouTube, and then, all of a sudden, a lot of attention was coming Anjelah’s way. “My messages from people started blowing up,” she recalls. “I had hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of messages from people all over the world.” They wanted her to come perform. People in the industry wanted to meet her. At the time, she had all of 12 minutes of material.

“I didn’t know how to be famous. I didn’t know how to have fans,” Anjelah remembers. “I thought I was supposed to respond to every person who messaged me, so I would spend hours upon hours replying to people. It was exhausting.” At one point, Anjelah remembers thinking, “OK. This is either a little phase I’m going through, or this is the beginning of the rest of my life.” It quickly became evident that her career as a comedian was not temporary.

At the beginning of 2007, Anjelah had no bank account, no auditions, no agent, and nothing affirming she was on the right track. By the end of that year, she had an agent, a manager, a spot on MADtv, and a headlining standup act touring the country. Since then, she has appeared in commercials, guest starred in TV shows like The Shield and Ugly Betty, and appeared in films such as Our Family Wedding, Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel, and The Resurrection of Gavin Stone. Two of her acts are featured on Netflix, and from January to June of this year, she’s booked for 88 standup shows.

 

“Trust the journey and the process that you’re on, and grow where you’re planted.”

Anjelah is, perhaps, best known for a role she fashioned for MADtv. The character, Bon Qui Qui, is a sassy food-service employee working through an “out-of-the-hood” program. As cashier, Bon Qui Qui Rust velvet blazer, Bonito Silicon Valley; black cami, Scotch & Soda; green glitter shorts, Bonito Silicon Valley Trust the journey and the process that you’re on, and grow where you’re planted welcomes customers with “Welcome to King Burger, where we can do it your way, but don’t get crazy.” Anjelah says the character is fashioned after her “ghetto fabulous” little brother, Kennie. “Pretty much whatever my brother says, I put into Bon Qui Qui’s mouth.” Another source of inspiration was a girl from a drive-through in Memphis, Tennessee. “It was her disregard for other people,” Anjelah remarks. “She was not very self-aware in the way she communicated—but she was very confident. It was almost like I was at her house asking her to make me some food.”

Unsurprisingly, the larger-than-life Bon Qui Qui broke out of her MADtv skit and proceeded to strut her way through a number of music videos, pursing her lips and flourishing her talon-length decals disapprovingly at anyone in close proximity. Her videos portray an alternate reality, where you can persuade kidnappers to let you go by pulling some dance moves and thug life consists of temporary tattoos and threatening people with squirt guns held sideways.

There’s something appealing about the filming environment, Anjelah notes. “If you’ve ever gone to summer camp—that’s what filming a movie is like. You meet all these new friends and you bond, and it’s a cool experience for however long that is.” Her hope is to act in the next breakout TV show, but she recognizes the importance of appreciating where she’s at. “Trust the journey and the process that you’re on,” she advises. “And grow where you’re planted.” Such sage advice is one final reminder that Anjelah is not your cookie-cutter comedian.

_________

Writer: Johanna Harlow|Photographer:Arabela Espinoza| Producer: Kristen Pfund |Art Directior: Elle Mitchell|Stylist: Mariana Kishimoto|Hair Stylist: PJ Ciraulo|Make-Up Artist: Renee Batres|Sister Extraordinaire : Veronica Johnson Location : Winchester Mystery House Wardrobe: Scotch & Soda, Bonito Silicon Valley, Donald Pline

 

Graphic designer Shannon Knepper cut her creative teeth in Seattle and Pittsburgh, but for the past five years, she’s called San Jose home. With a focus on printmaking, Shannon creates greeting cards, T-shirts, and other 2D art through her brand, War Admiral Press. More recently, she’s started a new project called Bike City: San Jose, inspired by the South Bay’s love of all things bicycle. Between her new line of bike art, freelance jobs, and personal projects, Shannon has quickly found her niche in the South Bay community though her eye-catching work.

What brought you to San Jose?

We lived in Pittsburgh for five years while my husband was attending school. We stayed there until he got a job offer from San Jose State University in 2013. Since then, I’ve just been learning what makes San Jose cool. For example, one night I saw the bike party roll past my house, and I said to myself, “What’s this? This seems too weird for San Jose.” On the surface, it doesn’t seem that quirky, but just like with any new city when you move, you just have to look around a little bit, then all of the sudden you see what makes it special.

Where do you get inspiration for your work?

I’ve always done things like silkscreening and letterpress stuff. There’s always some element of printmaking involved; that’s what I like to do best. I love any kind of vintage sports stuff. I get a lot of inspiration from books I find in the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Library, the main branch in San Jose. It’s an amazing place-they have a treasure trove of old books with great illustrations.

How has moving to San Jose influenced your work?

I started doing San Jose-inspired posters and prints since moving here. For example, there’s something of an orange sauce obsession in San Jose. La Victoria Taqueria and Angelou’s Mexican Grill, both local restaurants, have their own versions. So I made a design of a row of orange bottles as a tribute to the sauce. I’m learning what makes San Jose cool and doing some of my art around that; I feel like there’s space for that. When I go to shops

around here, I don’t see San Jose-branded stuff. There doesn’t seem to be a huge sense of pride. When you go to other cities, the airports are full of local art, but San Jose has some growing to do in that way. The artists are here, but we’re still finding our place.

What has inspired some of your bike-themed art?

There’s a lot of weird bike history in San Jose. The first velodrome was built here, and there’s another one in Hellyer County Park. There’s a lot of weird, quirky bike things all over the city. I was also noticing it was such an easy place to bike around since it’s flat and it’s always nice outside. I’m not exactly a “real cyclist.” I don’t have a nice bike or special clothing or anything like that. But the area is ripe for more cyclists, even casual ones.

I’m making more bike-themed art thanks to receiving a small grant from Knight Foundation. They support art and other community projects in San Jose. I had some greeting cards with bikes on them for sale in Japantown, and they saw my work there and asked me to do more bicycle-themed art for the city. Now my War Admiral Press work is stuff that I just enjoy doing, while my new project, Bike City: San Jose, is where I want to make cool art for the city.

War Admiral Press | waradmiralpress.com | Instagram waradmiralpress

ISSUE SOLD OUT

Painter, Tyson Johnston, and his paintings—with their bold fantastical images in thick layers of watercolor and other media—reach out powerfully to audiences, in both theme and style. Inspired by influences as diverse as Tibetan Buddhism, skateboarding graphics, and tattoo art, Johnston’s work is steeped in allegory and symbolism. And the former head of the tattoo shop Death Before Dishonor is constantly perfecting new techniques to express his fierce, dynamic visions. Calling him meticulous would be an understatement.


“I’ve been doing art my whole life, but at a certain point I figured out that I liked painting more than tattooing. Tattooing definitely put me in a different direction, but really it just made me feel bad about myself, whereas painting makes me zen out. It’s much more meditative. And since it’s not delicate, I normally like working on wood, being able to really sit into painting. But it’s always cool to get out of your element and do something different. I look to everything for inspiration—I’m always trying to challenge myself. It’s kind of like organized chaos, right?”

Jordan “Gatsby” Melvin was raised in Fayetteville, North Carolina, by a mother who loved R&B and a father who loved funk, two genres the 23-year-old rapper still loves to this day. But it didn’t stop there. “I was listening to anything that sounded good in my ears,” he says.

When asked about inspirations for his own musical productions, Gatsby quickly listed over one dozen artists and producers, including Nas, Wu-Tang Clan, Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest, Busta Rhymes, J Dilla, DJ Premier, and Pimp C—rest in peace. All of these individuals were creating music during what is known as the Golden Age of hip-hop music. “The Golden Age is the Golden Age because, if you ask me, there was no better music being made,” Gatsby says. “There was so much passion, so much energy behind the music.”

When Gatsby first heard the 2006 song “U and Dat,” by Vallejo’s own E-40 in collaboration with T-Pain, it was his first introduction to the Bay Area’s unique style of hip-hop—commonly referred to as “hyphy”—and he loved it. “When I heard that for the first time, it was so different. I realized that it wasn’t just accepted [in the Bay], it was huge,” he says. He admired the acceptance of that difference. Over a decade later in 2018, at the age of 20, he decided to relocate permanently to San Jose.

“It’s a creative wonderland,” he says. “The Bay Area is such a close-knit community when it comes to creativity. Everyone feels welcome.” He wasn’t getting that vibe from the East Coast’s “hustler culture,” and he didn’t feel it in Southern California, either. “The creative community of Southern California doesn’t care about you or what you’re doing unless you’re ‘somebody.’ I think that’s hella wack,” he says. “ ‘Nobodies’ are made into ‘somebodies’ every single day. It’s all about access and opportunity.”

About his lyrics, Gatsby says, “My lyrics are real life. They’re about interactions that I have either seen, learned from, or was involved with.” Being a Black man in the United States, his real-life experiences often lead him to rap about Black oppression and liberation. He aspires to channel that same energy into his music. “I put a lot of myself, what I truly believe, and my heart into my songs. Because I want them to mean something. I want them to provoke people so much that it damn near radicalizes them.

Naturally, his lyrical influences are more than musical artists. “I spend a lot of time educating myself,” he says. “I watch a lot of documentaries and interviews.” The subjects of those documentaries and interviews are often civil rights leaders such as Malcolm X, Marcus Garvey, Elijah Muhammad, James Baldwin, and Fred Hampton. “I love listening to what all these people have to say. If they were alive today, the world would be completely
different.”

Since arriving in San Jose, Gatsby has used that access and opportunity to stay busy in his quest to become a “somebody.” In 2021 alone, he released two albums, Currently Unnamed and Quake Space, and played almost a dozen shows despite not having a car. “I’ve performed in every major city in California, other than Hollywood,” he says. “I’ve been everywhere, and I’ve built a name for myself off
of my grind.” His most recent album, Butter, was released this past July.

Gatsby is confident that grind will eventually lead him to worldwide success. In fact, if optimism and confidence were a disease, Gatsby would be patient zero in the next pandemic. “I think my chances of making it big are so high,” he says. “My music sounds incredible. Even if you don’t like the lyrical content, you cannot say that my music does not sound good. With my passion and my drive, there’s nothing that can stop me from making my dreams come true.”

The topic of oppression is not only a consistent throughline in his musical poetry but also peppered his interview for this piece. He claims that during the Golden Age, record labels—“the bourgeoisie”—didn’t realize how powerful media, and hip-hop in particular, can be. Now, he says, the music industry actively works to promote hip-hop artists that perpetuate negative stereotypes of Black culture. “The labels see to it that only people who are pushing a negative influence to youth are going to make it. Over time, that has built a society that only values artists perpetuating these negative stereotypes.”

That’s something he believes he can help change. “Media is the most powerful weapon in the world. Hip-hop, I believe, is the most popular genre in the world. If you can effectively control what you want to emulate, I genuinely feel that you can control the future. I plan to be something the world has never seen, heard, felt, or experienced. If not my music, what I do outside of music is going to change the whole world.” 

Instagram: jaayy_gatsby
SoundCloud: jaydotgatsby

#87 – Angela Ostermeier – VP of Development, Cinequest

Angela joined the Cinequest team as the Events & Development Manager in 2018 and has expanded her role and responsibilities to VP of Development.
Angela works closely with sponsors, venue locations, and VIPs to ensure that Cinequest events such as Maverick Meet-Ups, Nightly VIP Soirees, and Opening & Closing night parties go off without a hitch. She prides herself on her attention to detail and drive to make each year’s CQFF a success.

In our conversation, we learn about Angela’s interests in the film industry, her experiences before coming to Cinequest, and her plans and ambitions in the world of filmmaking. She also gives us some insight into the year’s in-person festival, her favorite film, and announces the new Cinequest Beer/Wine Garden, which ones today (8/16/22) and runs 11:30a to 7p daily through the festival. The Unzipped Pavilion is a great venue to meet visiting artists and each other over affordable kraft drinks, food trucks, and entertainment.

(Located at the stunning new Unzipped Pavilion, across from the California Theatre at 350 S. 1st Street 95113.)
Recorded in the Media Lounge at AC Hotel by Marriott Sunnyvale Moffett Park.

(Sidenote: I mistakenly call the AC at the “Marriott Park.” That is incorrect, is it the AC Hotel by Marriott Sunnyvale Moffett Park)

Beverage:
AC Hotel Signature Cocktail – a refreshing Cucumber Gin and Tonic
Cinequest Film & Creativity Festival Summer 2022 will feature 450 artists arriving to present the world’s finest new films in downtown San Jose and Campbell.
Cinequest In Person, August 16-29

cinequest.org

IG: cinequestorg

Article and Photography by:  Peter Salcido 

Designers

W

alking through the halls of the Cilker School of Art and Design at West Valley College, creativity was everywhere. The displays of photography and mixed media pieces left me feeling inspired. Tank Shop parked outside the doors, a thrift store selling streetwear and imported goods. Groups of people walked around to take in the beautiful scenery. So many people came out to support their local fashion designers.

This Pick-Up Party had a flare to it. The attire worn to this event was unique to what I typically see at a Pick-Up Party. The outfits were more personalized and self-expressive. Since this party had a fashion show, the space we shared was aligned with showing off individual fashion taste, and I feel like people dressed riskier because of that. I would categorize the overall genre of the evening as streetwear—stylish yet comfortable. The vibe felt young, playful, and vibrant. Brooke wore a flowy dress and sneakers, which was very vintage feeling. Justin wore denim on denim, giving his look a late 80s, early 90s vibe. Melissa and Melik had on more conventional styles but kept it streetwear with grungy plaid and leather pants. 

There were a few individuals whose outfits stood out to me the most. I loved Steph’s bootcut black bottoms and fitted top, which reminded me of vintage lace lingerie. I felt it was so well-matched to her personality, attitude, and how she presents herself. Isaac’s outfit had such a unique touch with a bulky custom necklace and fun socks that really elevated his look for the evening. My favorite piece he wore were his purple shoes—cozy yet fashionable. He tied it all in with a jersey texture blouse. Natalia and Katherine with their Dolls Kill vibes lit up the night with vibrant and fun silhouettes. Natalie’s pants were a lime green, baggy, and comfortable cargo style. Her futuristic shoulder flares and midsection jewelry band mixed past and present together. Katherine’s pockets of hot pink teased us, giving 80s Pilates class-meets-lingerie as her fishnet stockings peaked from the top of her pants. She also took bell bottoms to a whole new level, creating a different kind of futuristic design.

For the fashion show, each model gave it their all as they walked down the runway showing off their angles. The designs were nothing short of amazing. Each designer had their own unique style, and it was clear which piece belonged to which collection. They were cohesive in their designs and which garments they chose to showcase. I loved the variety. Some were more business-oriented, like something the modern businesswoman could wear into the office. There were also summer vibes with long gowns that flowed and made the wearer look elegant and soft. I loved the edgy garments as well; they gave me the sense of a modern twist on the Victorian era. 

Attending fashion shows here in the South Bay is vital to defining what South Bay fashion style looks and feels like. These are the fashion influencers and trend setters, the ones actively sitting down and designing what the local fashion sense is. I could see the inspiration behind the clothing, from the techie business look to the gilded period influence. All direct reflections of who we are in the South Bay. All in all, I leave you with a question that I’d like you to sit with. What are your clothes saying about who you are? Think about it and see where it takes you on your identity journey. Pay attention to the why and the what so that you, too, can set the trend for the rest of us. 

Brooke @brooke.site

Isaac Farfan @risaacjfarfan

Justin @d00stb1n

Malik @generic_youth

Melissa @meliissaa_23

Natalia @sn0talia Katherine @squidkiiiddd

Steph @bonesinmygarden

Here are some of the designs from the Cilker School of Art and Design Fashion Show. 

 

 

 

IIn the heart of San Jose’s SOFA district, across from the fluorescence of Anno Domini and ambers of Café Stritch, is the unassuming home of Aedis Architecture & Planning in the W. Prussia Building designed by W.H. Weeks. The firm sits atop a growing marketplace, driven by the passion of Senior Principal Thang N. Do.

Thang Do’s respect for San Jose’s architectural history is palpable. The office’s exposed wood ceiling beams, bare cement walls, and energy efficient plenum floors reflect the minimalist and green values that Do adheres to.

I view the office space as something that will always evolve; you don’t build it in one shot and expect to be done with it. We will always tweak it. Certain things work, certain things don’t work. It’s always a work-in-progress. We’re architects and it’s our permanent experiment. -Thang Do

Under Do’s leadership, Aedis has flourished, executing numerous projects that incorporate his passions for modernism, education, and sustainability. Bold colors, swooping curves, and elegant forms can be found all around the South Bay in schools that he has touched. Recently, Do was instrumental in growing downtown San Jose’s retail scene through the fitting partnership with Muji.

Born in 1959, Do grew up impoverished in Äà Lat, a holiday resort town, built by the French during colonial times to escape the heat. Although Do was surrounded by Äà Lat’s French colonial architecture, the unlikely inspiration of a Shell Oil housing development steered him in a different direction. “They built this cluster of housing that was unlike anything in my town…a flat roof, clean line, concrete with exposed aggregate, glass, very clean simple geometry…It’s basically modern architecture.”

When Do was twelve or thirteen years old, his father commissioned the family’s house to be built. Finding the draftsman’s blueprints, Do was enthralled with how the three-dimensional world was rendered flat. Immediately, he started to create his own sectional and elevation drawings.

“As a child, I loved the adventure of exploring through spaces and especially buildings that have a lot of nooks and crannies, different kinds of scale, different kinds of space, different kinds of light, interesting circulation, going up and down, flat…That’s what we try to do with schools. In my own house, I designed it specifically for children because I have four kids. It has two lofts, one of which is a secret loft that only our kids know how to get to. There’s a secret door, a visitor will not know where it is.”

In 1975, when the country was literally collapsing due to the war, Do left aboard an Air Force plane. After staying in Guam and coming to the US, he continued to pursue architecture through drafting classes in high school. He eventually discovered the Bauhaus architects as well as Frank Lloyd Wright’s “Fallingwater,” a building that heavily influenced his decision to become an architect.

After graduating, Do went on to work with construction companies and architectural firms. He took a position at PJHM Architects, now Aedis, before deciding to go to “real architecture school.” In 1986, Do graduated from the California Polytechnic State University at San Luis Obispo and returned to PJHM as a key partner. Though power came quickly, proper leadership and business skills were talents that Do admits he acquired over time. “I lacked the sense of self confidence to really let myself go, let myself design, explore, and so forth. I always approached this profession in a conservative way until the last five or so years.”

A testament to his latest approach is the award-winning work with Union City’s James Logan High School, one of the projects he is the most proud of. Initially, Do was asked to replace the village of prefabricated classrooms, commonly known as portables. He went further by addressing larger functional issues with sustainable solutions, and crowned his achievement with the exquisite Center for Performing Arts. Do not only helped the school receive state funding, but he met and exceeded the school’s goals with his personal vision intact.

In addition to educational building needs, Aedis plays an active role in project-based learning with schools like Evergreen Elementary in San Jose. Do says the benefits go both ways; students learn about design methods and employees learn about school needs and how kids think.

Sitting on the Architectural Review Board, Do has an optimistic view of the city’s future development, particularly downtown. “The term may sound pretentious, but whatever, I’m an urbanist. I would like to see San Jose become more and more a rich urban environment. Our being here and opening the market downstairs is part of that…It’s not just us. I start to see more life on this block. So hopefully, collectively, if people see downtown as a destination, then we’ve got something.”

Aedis Architecture & Planning |  aedisgroup.com 

 

Article originally appeared inIssue 6.0 Discover (Print SOLD OUT)

 

Six-year-old Yolanda Guerra sat at the dining room table with a Dick-and-Jane elementary-level reader. The strong, bold print matched her growing confidence as she strung words into sentences. Her father sat next to her and watched her read. “Mija, what is it about? Tell me.” She started saying the sentences out loud. “Which word is that on the page?” he asked. “What’s that word?” he pointed, “and that word?” She looked at him, and he said, “Mija, I don’t know how to read.”

At 18, for a graduation present, Yolanda received money from her father. She spent it all on buying novels. “When he asked what I got, he started crying. My father and I were connected intuitively. He created a space for both of us to learn.”

Gratitude for her father inspired one of Yolanda’s most well-toured pieces, “Love, Strength, Will and Power of Protest (Little Iron Vagina),” an installation work in which a small iron with a glowing, red center sits atop an ironing board. Flanking the brave little machine, two wooden panels with handwritten cursive describe a memory from the early ’80s, when Yolanda was 13 and her older brother demanded she iron his shirt. When her refusal escalated into an argument, and her mother sided with her brother, her father stepped in and freed Yolanda from the outdated expectation that women must cater to men.

“My father and I were connected intuitively. He created a space for both of us to learn.” -Yolanda Guerra 

Much of Yolanda’s art explores the culture she inherited from previous generations. For example, one of her works-in-progress is an untitled textile sculpture about dismantling shame, for herself as much as her mom and dad. “My parents were hit in elementary school for speaking Spanish,” Yolanda explains. “I need to let go of the guilt my parents had.” As a child of assimilation, her English is fluent, but her Spanish is hesitant. “I have students who ask, ‘You’re Mexican–how come you don’t speak Spanish?’ We have to talk about the colonizer!”

A full-time artist with her own studio at the Alameda Artworks, Yolanda has been teaching art for eleven years. Born in San Jose as the youngest of nine, she chose to pursue her BFA in Art while her classmates became engineers or graphic illustrators. She found an affinity for writing, which she sometimes embroiders into her artwork: her own words mix with those of Pablo Neruda and Sandra Cisneros in “She Gave Birth to Joy and Poetry,” a sculpture composed of a zip-up cloth tissue-box with smooth, dried flaps of colorful acrylic paint and butterflies. Its satin lining contains lines of poetry celebrating the beauty, depth, and functions of the vagina.

Many of her recent pieces are woodblock prints about families separated from their children. Yolanda sees these works as healing for herself and possibly for many others as well. “I want to show love and hope and pain, but pain in a way that people can see the beauty of family, of Mexican people,” she says. “I want to be some kind of voice for people who are not always heard.”

“I think that’s why I’m a teacher too,” Yolanda reflects. “Each time I walk into a classroom, I want to honor the teachers I had.” During her time at Evergreen Valley College, which Yolanda attended for junior college before San Jose State, she found creative women professors who were “kind and open to people’s craziness.” The instructor whom she dubs her “first art mama” once told her, “You have to follow your own path. Because if not, what kind of life would that be?”

And so, Yolanda expresses her truth in every way she can. She reminds her city it was once a farming community; it can continue to innovate without exacerbating wage gaps. She sheds tears each summer as another class of students graduates; she makes art about them, wishing them well. And eventually, confirmations arrive at the door. Her students return to their art mama and tell her they still enjoy drawing or painting or printmaking. And Yolanda rests assured she’s at the right place in life. “Whatever pulls me in the direction of where I need to be, I follow that. Despite whatever situations are around. That’s just my way of living.” 

yolandaguerra.com
Facebook: YolandaguerraArt
Instagram: yolandaguerra23

The Alameda Artworks
1068 The Alameda
San Jose, CA 95124

 

Article originally appeared inIssue 11.5 Dine (Print SOLD OUT)

When Abby Bettencourt thinks about describing her creative process, she imagines a carousel. She envisions a steady rotation of ideas circling through her mind, like the ornate rides at fairs and amusement parks. The ideas glide by, passing out of view to ruminate in the background, then resurface once more for assessment and reinterpretation. Nothing is ever fixed, but always in motion and guided by the fluidity of change.

Abby’s journey within the art industry has been circuitous, following her development as a spatial artist and contemporary jewelry maker. Now she has come full circle, entering the next phase in her career as volunteer director of the 6th Street Studios and Art Center in downtown Gilroy.

Growing up as a Gilroy native, Abby loved to craft with her mother. “She kind of spurred me working with my hands,” she explains, recalling the days of polymer clay, knitting, and baking Shrinky Dinks. Once she discovered the limitless possibilities of three-dimensional art, there was no turning back.

Abby went on to pursue her BFA in spatial arts at SJSU, where she became immersed in the community as a practicing artist and a conduit for others’ creativity. On campus, she led the Jewelry and Small Metals Guild, cultivating opportunities for members to exhibit and sell their work or to share resources in their craft. She was an art preparator for the Institute of Contemporary Art and simultaneously held the role of creative director and curator at Social Policy in downtown San Jose. There she played a pivotal role choreographing exhibitions with First Friday events showcasing local artists in the SoFA district.

“I couldn’t have done it without embracing the community.” -Abby Bettencourt

When it came time for her BFA project, Abby was well-prepared. She visited each section of spatial arts at SJSU, learning everything from how to plaster silica molds to annealing glass. Everyone in her life got involved in some capacity, including Abby’s father, friends, and roommates. Even the vintage table used for her sculpture’s foundation had been passed down from Abby’s grandparents. The finished piece was exhibited at Social Policy, symbolizing the coalescence of her artistic growth and collaboration with others. “I couldn’t have done it without embracing the community,” she says. 

Two years later, Abby came across 6th Street by pure serendipity. She found a post on Craigslist at the end of 2020 listed by founder Emily.McEwan-Upright—the studio needed an intern and Abby knew its location well. “I severely missed all the art organizing I did in downtown San Jose. So, after I toured the space and met Emily, I offered to help out where I could. The center’s mission is simple: to provide an inclusive and financially accessible creative space for artists of all disciplines,” she says.

The studio building itself has already lived many lives. Originally designed as a Studebaker dealership in the 1940s, it was later used as an auction showroom, then a window and shades shop during the 1990s. At one point it was a branch for Hope Services, a support agency for disability and mental health. It even acted as headquarters for the Gilroy Dispatch. Over the decades, its walls and mid-century façade have changed little, but the operations within have adapted to the community around it. Now the center is gaining momentum once more, this time with Abby adding to its story.

The pandemic poses an exceptional challenge, affecting how the center can engage with the public. “Everyone is apprehensive about going out and about, and rightly so,” she says. It’s also been a matter of tapping into the local creative community—bringing people together.

A variety of artists have already rented studios through the center’s residency program—ranging from illustrators, oil painters, graphic designers, musicians, ceramicists, screen printers, and a soap and candle maker. Some are local, some commute from San Jose, Hollister, or Santa Cruz. The exhibits draw from this rich resource of talent, displaying seasoned and emerging artists alike who work in a symphony of mediums. The center even partners with local schools for group shows to strengthen Gilroy’s arts education.

Then there’s the monthly art walks, designed to explore the arts and culture scene developing in the historic downtown district. Likewise for the center’s art market events, which celebrate small business artists while giving hobbyists and crafters time in the spotlight. 

Abby describes 6th Street’s operations as delicately balanced. She has several projects waiting in the wings between the schedule for exhibits and open studio days. Eventually she would like to integrate her own expertise by instructing workshops on jewelry making or enameling, hoping to ease people past feelings of intimidation, so they can flourish in the craft. The possibilities are endless.

True to her process, Abby brings back all the artistic wisdom and confidence gained from her creative journey thus far, putting a new spin on something familiar. 

6thstreetartstudios.org
abbyrose.art

Instagram
6thstreetartstudios_95020
abby.rose.art

Article originally appeared in Issue 14.2 “SIght and Sound”

 

Walking into the Dark Horse Gym into the crowd of fashion influencers bobbing their heads to the catwalk tunes overplaying the chatter and whispers of casual conversation. It’s a full house. Lights spill on the walls and tops of heads with dangling jewelry flashing and lines of contour telling stories of the past. Chine Slender, the show’s architect, speaks on the microphone to notify that the show is about to begin. The lights dim as there’s a shift in music. A crew is gathering at the entrance. Silhouettes of models dance in the dark. The lights come on, and out come the first model as they step onto the runway. The 8th Lake Fashion Show on February 4th, 2022, was a night to remember. 

Chinedu Emeahara, a.k.a Chine Slender, is a San Jose local who broke through the art world with his music back in 2018. (Read more about it in issue 13.3 Perform.) He says he’s always been interested in expressing his style through clothes. As he traveled around the country to conventional fashion hubs like New York, he felt inspired to take his experiences and put them into something he could share with others. Thus he was motivated to connect with local designers to create a fun show that stood for something. “San Jose, even though it’s far from being a fashion hub, has the population and potential to get more into fashion and use fashion to build community and connect with others. The rest of the world already knows of the Bay and how influential we are, but when it comes to fashion, it’s much harder to come by,” says Chine, recognizing the importance and power of fashion. 

Chine looks at clothes like time capsules. They document the times and eras of a generation, social moments, and sometimes an individual staple. They reflect the times and capture what was popular and defining culture. “When it comes to south bay style, since it is such a melting pot, you’re going to get so many different looks and styles, it’s really when people step outside of those limits is when you start to get the outliers who are the ones who actually define the fashion,” says Chine. “How they’re wearing it is just as important as what they’re wearing.” Chine defines the south bay style into five categories. Chollo, hypebeast/streetwear, jazz cat, suburban, and skater. These are observations by Chine and how he and his community relates to them.

Fashion moves and shifts, and how we dress ourselves and interpret others’ attire is an exchange—a story of emotion, experience, and personality. I want to provide a space for us South Bayers to consider and express ourselves through the creative outlet of fashion and dress. We are a melting pot of cultures, which reflects through our style. Every day or week, a new trend can erupt, and the fashion industry can shift. Here in the South Bay, how we wear our clothes paired with how the wearer expresses their outfit defines our unique and specific style. Other factors contribute as well. Like geography, weather, what kind of social events people are attending, and what type of community we have. Fashion expression is a way to tell the world a bit about yourself- it shows us what you’re all about. 

Through my journey of defining what South Bay Style looks like, I’ve encountered creative people who are pushing the fashion scene in San Jose forward. What individuals wear to events sets the tone for what’s in and what isn’t, which is why a fashion show has the impact necessary to stimulate brilliance and bind a neighborhood together. 

Watch the full 8th Lake Fashion Show here and get involved.

 

Feel inspired to wear something that represents a bit about who you are. Have fun with it. In our next post about defining what South Bay Style looks like, I sat down with Araceli Vizcaino, who is the owner and operator of Thrill of the Luxe. We talked about the importance and influence of expressing your unique style and some of its difficulties. 

Designers:

Dead By Dawn: @deadbydawnnn

Bloodsport studios: @bloodsportstudios

Hyphenate: @hyphenate.life

S.O.S. Clothing: @s.o.s.clothing

Show Host Chine Slender: @_malvce (@chineslender)

Location: Dark Horse Gym @darkhorsegymsj

 

Chollo: Dickies, cut off, high socks, cortezs and a plain white t-shirt. Very narrowed color scheme.

Hypebeast/streetwear: Screen printed pants, shirt, and/or accessory. Including expensive t-shirt brands like Supreme. 

Jazz Cat: Some type of vest blazer, collared shirt or v-neck, black skinny jeans and doc martens. Colors are usually on the darker end. Usually gray or black.

Suburban: an expensive tote bag, usually Gucci, Balenciaga, or Louis Vuitton monogram Louis, with some platform heels and a modern trench coat. And you’ll see them in hubs. Generally around the two big malls, Oakridge and Valley Fair. Where most people shop. 

Skater: a combination of cholo, streetwear/hypebeast and jazz cat style. When they skate they’re comfortable. Cut jeans or dickies, with a supreme t-shirt and the somber and darker colors which all come from the other categories.)

These photos are meant to inspire and express what the fashion influencers of the South Bay are styling and dressing. 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His musical momentum was halted in the fall of 2019, when he moved to Virginia to attend Norfolk State University. At the urging of a friend, he auditioned for the school’s homecoming concert, and impressed the judges enough to earn a spot opening for Lil Durk in front of the whole school, a moment that proved to be his East Coast breakthrough. 

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

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

soundcloud.com/sjhnic
Instagram: chineslender

Article originally appeared inIssue 13.3 Perform (Print SOLD OUT)

Speaking of Magick Blues Band’s eponymous debut, drummer and vocalist Zack Sauer seems to breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s been a long time coming,” he says of the album, now available on Bandcamp. That might seem like a strange sentiment to those who only know of the band as a recent group on the Silicon Valley circuit. In truth, the project’s the tangible realization of a dream Sauer and bassist Nick Verdi have clung to since they were both 16, well before they had enough people to execute their vision of creating a rock band.

“We used to just play back and forth, bass and drums. That’s how we learned,” recalls Verdi, noting the fun would last until his furious neighbor would show up and scream at them to turn it down. “It all started with a passion for playing together. That’s what we try to bring when we’re on stage. Our motto is ‘we’re here for you’ because that’s why we play: we’re here for the audience to enjoy what we do.”

Sauer recalls falling in love with classic rock when he first heard “Stairway to Heaven” in full on the radio. Similarly, Verdi was entranced by the live energy of Queen vocalist Freddie Mercury in videos. He saw a dedication to performance he felt was missing in current music. In an age increasingly reliant upon digital wizardry to gloss over musical moments, the members of Magick Blues Band are steadfast in their reliance on human touch and the visceral energy of live interaction with their audience.

A December 2017 performance at Caravan Lounge served as the group’s true live debut. The date proved pivotal. “It gave us this confidence—what we’re doing is noticeable, and people actually like it,” says Verdi. They were immediately invited back to play the lounge’s New Year’s show, and within their first year together, they performed as part of the 2018 Fountain Blues and Brews Festival. This past August, they played San Jose Jazz Summer Fest thanks to a co-sign from local blues mainstay JC Smith.

“This is the live, studio feel we’re trying to develop,” says Verdi of the recordings, captured in Sauer’s grandmother’s garage back when Magick Blues Band was just a quartet, with Justin Morton on lead guitar and Tyler Sargent on Rhodes piano. Sargent has since left, but the group’s been supplemented by rhythm guitarist Joseph Cañas and Sean Biggar on percussion.

Magick’s indebtedness to classic rock is clear, especially the country-tinged, elastic jams of the Grateful Dead. It makes sense, then, when the two quickly share that “Jerry’s Tune,” an ode to Jerry Garcia, remains their favorite on the project. The tune’s been in the works for close to four years.

“It was the first bass lick I came up with that I felt embodied that feeling of the Grateful Dead that I really enjoyed,” Verdi says. The nearly nine-minute album closer strolls and morphs, always maintaining a slow burn energy reminiscent of the Dead and the Allman Brothers Band. Energy builds then dissipates, but the center is always held together through the well-established chemistry of Verdi and Sauer.

The music’s even been good enough to fool others about its origins. “To have people like my parents or friends go ‘What Dead Song is that?’—that’s the connection where you think, wow, we did it,” Verdi emphatically shares. 

That notion speaks to the strength of the Magick Blues Band’s sound. It’s more throwback than replica, a studied analog analogue rather than a digital facsimile of a bygone era and sound. That earned wisdom even shines through in their name. Though they started as just Magick, they added “blues band” to reflect the trajectory of groups like Santana, who used the same suffix at the start of their musical career.

Is the name then meant to serve as a marker of the group being just at the beginning of their journey? “That’s exactly how I look at it,” replies Verdi with a mischievous laugh. “That’s what life’s about, at least in my eyes. It’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey.” 

For the group’s founding members, building community and connection are at the heart of what that journey will entail. “As long as we’re doing music every night,” says Sauer, “I’m happy.” 

 

magickbluesband.bandcamp.com
Instagram: magickbluesband

Article originally appeared in Issue 11.5 Dine  (Print SOLD OUT)

For ten years I have heard booming thunder during springtime in downtown San Jose. It wakes me up and makes the windows hum. The sound motivates me to slip on some sandals and hustle down to Japantown. That thunder means San Jose Taiko, every bit as powerful and exciting as the first day I heard them.

But what makes it possible to shake the windows from three blocks away? How do you get so much sound from a drum? Is it the drum or the drummer that generates the power to rattle windows and make dogs bark?

To find the answers to these questions, I headed to San Jose Taiko’s rehearsal space in an old warehouse on Montgomery Street. It was cold in the empty studio and the cloudy skies made the room dark. As company member Meg Suzuki emerged from the towering racks of wooden drums, she detailed the effect that rapid variations in temperature can have on the instruments. The sound will vary greatly especially if exposed to high humidity, something to consider as they haul 3500 pounds of drums to a local festival or halfway across the world.

Taiko is the Japanese name for two-headed drums, mounted on upright stands, ranging in diameter from 12 inches to 12 feet. They have an iron ring for lifting and carrying in processions. Traditionally in Japanese theatre, they provided sound effects with special strokes to portray (rather than imitate) rain, snow and wind. The story goes that jazz drummer Daihachi Oguchi invented modern taiko style by arranging the instruments in the temple like a western drum set and creating a dramatic folk-jazz crossover. 

Unlike the customary instruments carved from a trunk of Japanese oak, the drums Meg hauled out onto the warehouse floor had a wine-barrel construction. Typical of North American taiko, staves of wood are bound together to make the body of the drum. Developed by Kinnara Taiko in Los Angeles in the late 1960s, this drum was lighter and much less costly to ship. This revolutionary design made it easier for groups to form, allowing taiko to spread across North America. San Jose Taiko began in 1973.

Since it uses fewer trees, the barrel design has caught on back in Japan and San Jose Taiko is now collaborating with top percussion manufacturer Pearl on a prototype taiko drum. Artistic director Franco Imperial explained that although the group once made their own drums, they now purchase from master craftsmen like Mark Miyoshi in Mount Shasta and Kato Drums from Concord. San Jose Taiko hopes that their drums will last forever, and indeed by caring for their instruments, they still have drums nearly as old as the group itself.

It is hard to imagine that an old cowhide could produce such a mighty reverberation. The leather skins that cover both ends of the drums are the key to tuning the drums. It once took five men to stretch the cowhide over the barrels to create the taut surface and nail the heads down, but today dowels and a series of car jacks accomplish the job. The skins are replaced every one to two years depending on wear and tear. 

And how do you make the drums thunder? Each size of taiko has special-sized wooden bachi (drumsticks) and each player has their own pair for each type of drum. The left-hand plays a lighter “female” stroke while the right makes a heavy “male” stroke in the center of the drumhead.

Becoming a taiko member is no easy committment, both in strength and time. The audition process alone takes one year, leading to a further 12-month apprenticeship. The 18 company members also compose much of the original music that they perform. Each group is different, but Franco stressed that for San Jose Taiko, “it doesn’t matter what ethnicity you are as long as you have the proper attitude and skill.” Members range in age from 20 to 40 and perform nationally as well as in Japan, Mexico, Canada, Italy, and the UK. 

Back home, that power extends into the community with outreach programs. First of its kind in the country, San Jose Taiko Conservatory is expanding upon the company mission to enrich the human spirit and connect people beyond cultural and demographic boundaries. All ages can participate via a Junior Taiko workshop, an adult class or a free performance at festivals like Nikkei Matsuri in Japantown.

Stepping out of the warehouse to the echo of the drums, I looked forward to the day when I will again hear them rattling my windows. In the words of Daihachi Oguchi, “In taiko, man becomes the sound. In taiko, you can hear the sound through your skin.”

 

San Jose Taiko  www.taiko.org

Article originally appeared in Issue 4.1 Power 2012

(Print SOLD OUT)

Entering the studio, I sensed the weightlessness and wonder of a new, yet familiar, galaxy. I felt like an honored guest in a marvelous artistic environment. My first experience traveling the Druniverse was in downtown San Jose at South First Billiards. I was blown away with the performance energy and unique mixes by this electronic music artist from San José. Dru, not entirely his real name, is a young, humble graphic designer with a musical alter ego called the “Druniverse”. Recently, Dru invited me to his home to visit the nexus of his digital universe. His home studio is a custom-built electronic music laboratory where keyboards, laptops and synthesizers stand ready for the day’s experiments. One wall houses neatly framed vintage DC Comics,  a movie reel of “Alice Through the Looking Glass” and a stack of classic Disney VHS tapes. A mountain of video games, drawings from a beloved uncle, and various instruments cover another wall and flow into every corner of the room. Above the bed hangs an enormous, surreal landscape print by Salvatore Dali – its presence a reminder of the strange universe enveloping me. And on the nightstand, the slightly oversized white helmet mask, reminiscent of Nintendo’s popular Megaman character, sits neatly on the nightstand waiting for our hero to become Dru and begin the journey into his beautiful, bass-drumthumping, electronic dance Druniverse.

Where did you grow up?

I grew up in San Jose, the Evergreen area. I was actually voted ‘Most Musical’ my senior year. Musically, I wouldn’t be who I am if I wasn’t here in San Jose. San Jose is awesome in that there are just good people here. People are friendly. Growing up with all those instruments and doing Mariachi, you don’t want to just play one instrument, you want to learn them all.

I see quite a few insturments here. How many do you play?

Guitar, bass, ukulele, drums, synthesizers/ pianos (they are one and the same). I used to try the trumpet, and flugelhorn.

Wow. How did you learn to play so many instruments?

I started with the guitar and then the bass, because it was natural. Once I started transferring chords from the guitar to the piano, I started to figure out how to make cords. It takes time. It takes loneliness. Now I make my own instruments. That’s what synthesizers do. You have to take your time and program every setting; you can make any sound you want. Each synthesizer is built around isolators, and they send out different wave forms. You can modify the isolators and glide and bend the waves, balance the sound and play with the resonance. You can have different synthesizers: one that’s a computer program or one that inputs the sounds.

“IT TAKES TIME. IT TAKES LONELINESS.”

There are so many things here that don’t look like instruments. What are all of these gadgets?

Well this one (little red box with a black screen) is my filter. When I mix, it lets me control my frequencies with my fingers. I can control my high and low notes with this touchpad. The vocal robot noises come from my synthesizer Yamaha DX7, go into my talk box which, is basically a speaker. It vibrates those tones that I hit on the keys, into this tube in my mouth. You just move your mouth and it makes these crazy noises. Daft Punk and Peter Frampton have used these kinds of things. It’s old school.

I see you have quite a few keyboards. How many do you have?

Oh well, I have a few, and this one is my favorite. It’s a sampler that my uncle gave me. He’s a musician and he gave me that bass cab and a lot of other things. He was in the music biz in the 80s, so, he gives me some cool stuff. It looks like a keyboard, but it actually connects to this old hard drive and when you play it, the sounds are sent into the computer.

What do you think about technology, living in Silicon Valley and being in the epicenter of it all?

Technology, old and new, is awesome. I made this piano part on one of my songs done with this 1982 mini keyboard that has a little headphone jack. Any type of noise can be amplified in different programs, and you can make sure that different frequencies don’t leak through if there are things that you don’t want. Besides the robot vocals, I also record people when they don’t know it– like when I’m out with friends or when people spend the night and they’re looking back at the night. I record some of them when they are talking. I just take those little clips and snippets of words, and right before a drop, when I have a bass come in, I’ll throw those words in. I just live life, and if I can make Druniverse happen during it, then it’s going to happen. I don’t plan it.

Tell me something no one would expect from Dru?

I have a Mariachi outfit. I do Mariachi with my grandpa. I’m down here in San Jose alone. I have been living alone since sophomore year, and I had to find ways to make money to be able to pay for school and to take care of myself. It was also a way to build up courage. It’s those experiences, looking over at my grandpa playing around a fire pit, with people drinking and singing around us– to have this moment with my grandpa where I know he is proud of me, and I am happy to be with him. It’s cool to have that experience; and who knows how long that will last.

Do you incorporate the Mariachi style into your Druniverse?

Yeah, the chord progressions are so classic. Hearing them translated into the software program and then into these electronic bleeps and bloops, it’s not the same song anymore at all.

How did you get interested in electronic music?

My band broke up in high school and after high school, everyone spreads out. You think to yourself, ‘Well, what do I do now?’ But, I actually was the one who wrote all the music that my band performed, and a lot of times, I was the one who would suggest that they play certain things. I don’t know why, but they looked to me for things like that. Now we are all doing our own things and they are still really supportive and are really excited about the new music, new sounds, new instruments that I have been playing around with. I started to record everything by myself, balancing a full time graphic design job. Music isn’t easy, but since I play all the instruments and record everything by myself, it’s all good.

And the idea for Druniverse? Did you always know you wanted your own universe?

Druniverse? Dru was a good representation for the music. When I would show people my earlier stuff, they would all say that it sounded like video game music, genesis-style stuff. I wanted to create a character, and these characters have their own background and style. Druniverse is also inspired by some dreams that I’ve had, and this idea that I didn’t want to be seen or judged for the music I’m making. It’s about the music that Dru makes, not who I am. People don’t know what race or age I am under the mask, under the guise of the character. The mask lets people develop their own interpretation of who Dru is. I like that people can have their own personal experience with the music.

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Featured in issues 4.0 “Tech” 

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It the age of 12, Marissa Martinez started writing fan fiction about her favorite show, Avatar: The Last Airbender (still her favorite show to this day). Greatly invested in the storytelling and character development, especially those of her favorite characters, Toph and Katara, she joined an online community that gave her a platform to share fan fiction for books she was reading as well.

Then someone pointed her to the International Thespian Society at Evergreen Valley High. Marissa signed up on club day and attended her first meetings straightaway. “One friend joined with me, and we started doing backstage things—sound and lights,” Marissa says. As she befriended upperclassmen, who comprised most of the club’s actors, she integrated her creative writing and explored acting. By senior year, she became the club’s president and wrote her first play.

Like the premise of John Hughes’ The Breakfast Club, Marissa’s first play features four high school students who meet in the lobby of a community college. Through their one-on-one exchanges, each student’s reason for taking classes is revealed: one needs to make up classes, one wants to get ahead, one is an overachiever, and one is unsure of the future.

“I realized, in conjunction with the community work I was doing on campus, I wanted my art and writing to impact my community in San Jose where I’m from.” -Marissa Martinez

Completely student written, directed, and acted, Marissa’s debut play launched her future playwriting endeavors. At Santa Clara University, where she majored in theater and English, Marissa developed short one-act plays and focused her intentions as a playwright. “I realized, in conjunction with the community work I was doing on campus, I wanted my art and writing to impact my community in San Jose where I’m from,” Marissa says. “After that, I wasn’t even interested in going anywhere. I just wanted to be here.”

As a younger writer she had dreamed of starting a theater company. Her passion and skill were affirmed when she received four grants from the university to put on her biggest play yet, Hapa Cup of Sugar. Marissa received funding from the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics, SCU Presents, the Office for Diversity and Inclusion, and the Office for Multicultural Learning to cover media purchases, workshop fees, props, sets, costumes, and production-team compensation. 

After graduation, Marissa continued to write and collaborate with theater companies who resonated with her themes of identity and social justice. Bindlestiff Studio, the only Filipino American–centered theater in the nation, showed two of her plays in 2017 and 2019; yet the theater was located in San Francisco, far from home.

Early in 2019, Marissa stumbled upon the perfect opportunity at a genARTS workshop. “My now-friend Matt introduced himself as trying to start his own theater company, and he was looking for playwrights,” Marissa says. “So during lunch period I went to find him and asked, ‘What do I need to do to work with you?’ ”

More Más Marami Arts 

More Más Marami Arts launched in January 2019, with original founders Matt Casey, Kimberly Piet, Angela Sarabia, Andy Sandoval, and Daniel Lerma-Hill. Its name derives from the founders’ Mexican, Filipino, and American cultures, translating to “more more more arts” in English, Spanish, and Tagalog.

“More Más Marami is about creating inclusion in theater, but it’s also here to create a space for us in the South Bay,” Marissa emphasizes. “One of our biggest goals is to develop more writers so we can have more original content in the South Bay.”

Works in Progress

MMMA’s program Works in Progress accepts submissions from writers of any background. Even if a script is a work in progress, the team reads it and then casts people from the community to read those characters at an informal table read. Here, the writer hears their play out loud for the first time and receives feedback from actors.

Trespass Theatre

The founders get creative with not only their meeting rooms (community coffee shops) but also their performance spaces. “Part of our mission to make theater accessible, Trespass Theatre is about bringing theater to the streets in unconventional, untraditional locations,” Marissa shares proudly. “One of my pieces became the first Trespass performance in September.” 

Alongside a creek near her grandmother’s house in Evergreen, Marissa led a “devised” theater ensemble piece: As the writer, she established the structure and story; as a cast, the founders developed the content and blocking. As Matt introduced them on the evening of the show, the rest of the cast began swarming the audience. The topic was environment and climate change, elaborated through three separate stories as the cast moved around the audience, giving them a different story to follow as they passed.

The second Trespass Theatre production featured two shows, funded by Awesome Foundation, and was performed at the Billy DeFrank LGBTQ+ Community Center. One play, Queercenera, illuminated LGBTQ+ experience in San Jose—ultimately showing “how family can support you and love you and make you do crazy things you don’t understand too…It’s a powerful experience for an audience member to recognize themselves in the play,” Marissa notes.

24-Hour Theatre

More Más Marami’s collaboration with Center Stage Productions, the drama club at SJSU, gives access to the black box theater in the Stone Performing Arts Center. Here, magic and chaos unfold: youth, college students, and friends of friends gather to write from Friday, 8pm to 2am or 4am. At 7am, everyone gets up to cast the script, rehearse throughout the afternoon, and perform at 8pm. “It’s for people who are dipping their toes into theater, who want to try writing or acting, and also for those who know what they like and want to do something wacky,” Marissa explains. “Anything can happen.”

Amplify

Growing up in East San Jose and Evergreen, Marissa remembers the pressures she faced as a student. “As an adult I know there’s resources out there, but when you’re a kid going to a school overflowing with students and there’s only two counselors to meet with, it’s scary.” When she’s not brainstorming, coordinating, and running programs with More Más Marami, she’s working with middle and high school youth at a program called Amplify. “These students have ideas and opinions. We try to give them a platform to use their voice and to practice their arts and leadership abilities,” she sums up. The students get to work alongside other artists. “We help them in photography, creative writing, and
communication.”

After three years, Marissa has seen changes all across the board: “Even from the beginning of a project to the end, you can see how comfortable they become talking with others, and the friendships they make. Some of them outgrow some of our projects and processes, and they’re ready to do more outside of Amplify.”

LEAD Filipino

Marissa is also the program director of Fly Pinays, a sisterhood and mentorship program of LEAD Filipino that provides educational programs focused on increasing Filipina representation in civic leadership (Leadership, Education Advocacy, Dialogue). In her third year of involvement with LEAD, Marissa aims to bring high school students to the 2020 Fly Pinays Leadership Summit, exposing them to these resources and discussions.

Ultimately, Marissa finds her motivation in the people she works for, whether through artistic programs or mentorship—from including neighbors who rarely see theater, to finding others who love the arts, who love to write, who are Pinay like herself. “We’re all stronger in communities together as one,” she says. “We
have to stick together.” 

moremasmarami.org

Instagram
more.mas.marami

Article originally appeared in Issue 12.1 “Device” 

Purchase Print Issue.

PODCAST With Marissa Marteniz and Matt Casey, Cofounders of More Más Marami Arts

 

As Brian Boitano skates onto the ice, the psychological weight is colossal. “It’s like the microwave gets turned on,” he describes, “and you’re cooking from the inside out, ready to explode.” The roar of 20,000 throats tidal waves over him and washes across the Saddledome. The almost palpably solid feeling of 20,000 pairs of eyes latch onto the back of his neck like a grappling hook. He strikes an erect pose, made all the more commanding in a blue military uniform. Silence falls like an ax. The music swells. And Boitano’s skates stir to life.

That was 1988, and three decades later journalists continue to ask Boitano about the subsequent four minutes and thirty seconds of his life. After all, Calgary ’88 earned him an Olympic gold medal in men’s singles figure skating. Only one other American has achieved that status for the same event since. The media also senses—as they did in the days leading up to Boitano’s triumph—a noteworthy narrative. For starters, America was predicted to come in second. Brian Orser, flag carrier for that year’s host country, Canada, was favored for the win. However, both skaters had similar skill levels as well as matching military-themed song and costume choices. Reporters were soon championing the slogan “The Battle of the Brians.” Add to all this Boitano’s invention of a move called the “Tano Triple Lutz” (extending one arm overhead during jump and rotation), and you have an underdog, a rivalry, new advances to the sport—ingredients guaranteeing a recipe for success.

Boitano isn’t bothered by the constant requests to relive the routine that landed him top of the podium. “It was the culmination of everything,” he explains, “the culmination of all your childhood dreams and aspirations, the passion you have for it, the work that you put into it, all the people that had expectations for you, and the pressure you’re able to deal with.”

At 24, Boitano experienced a surreal moment of glory. “You know, at that moment, that nothing’s going to compare to that,” Boitano says. “That’s why it’s ingrained in my brain, so much that I remember every single emotion.” The unadulterated delight and overwhelming emotion that crossed his face after his flawless finish is proof enough the memory will never lose its potency. But that doesn’t mean life after Olympic gold is destined to be anticlimactic. Boitano feels incredibly fortunate for Calgary, and he credits it for the blessings that followed.

Whereas Orser’s decision to become a skating coach is a conventional one, Boitano’s chosen route has been a little less predictable. He’s gone from lacing up skates to tying on apron strings as a Food Network star and host. Though these fields are dissimilar in many ways, they do carry commonalities. “You layer the elements and you come up with a great recipe,” Boitano notes of both. “With cooking, it’s how a plate looks, how it smells, what the ingredients are, how they taste. With skating, the layers are choreography, music, costume.” Food is also a performance, he observes, appraised by friends
and family.

But there are also benefits to cooking that skating doesn’t offer. Renowned for his exacting technical accuracy on the ice, Boitano is surprisingly lenient with ingredients in the kitchen. “Skater Brian is literally precise and thinks of everything: every moment, every foot, every place,” he remarks. “Cooking Brian, is…I sort of made this pact with myself to not get too in my head about cooking. There’s not much difference between a handful of parsley and a handful and a half of parsley—so let’s not measure.” He enjoys going by instinct, imagining flavor combinations while brainstorming new recipes. “I like the freedom,” he confides with a smile.

Boitano’s playful synergy with food earned him his culinary debut with the Food Network. The title of the series—What Would Brian Boitano Make?—tips its hat to the song, “What Would Brian Boitano Do?” played during the cartoon South Park. It was informational, but it was also intimate (unique from the professional tone of the Network’s other shows at the time). In each episode, Boitano hosted events for his friends. These ranged from a sausage shindig for the Secret Society Scooter Club to a bacon-themed dinner for a women’s roller derby team. “It was a little bit irreverent, a little bit funny. I could show my goofy side, which was different from what everybody knew me as on the ice.”

Indisputably, skating will always be the passion ingrained deepest in Boitano’s heart. Until recently, he’s performed in shows and continues to swoop across the ice for recreation. “It’s the ultimate feeling of abandon,” he enthuses. “You’re traveling across the ice at 25 miles an hour, and then you’re throwing yourself in the air, and you’re landing on a thin blade with complete control. There’s this command of the energy in the air that you feel when you’re doing it. And when things are exactly how you want it, it’s this entire picture of, in your mind, perfection of the moment.” He’s held that fervor ever since he witnessed an Ice Follies show at eight and began pretending his roller skates were ice skates, his kidney bean-shaped patio a rink.

Nevertheless, Boitano doesn’t miss the excruciating pressure of competition. He identifies it as 95 percent a mental game. That critical inner voice is so palpable he nicknamed it “Murphy” after Murphy’s Law. “He’s saying ‘If anything bad can happen, it will happen.’ And you’re trying to punch Murphy down.” In contrast, Boitano takes his own pace with cooking and enjoys therapeutic late nights in the kitchen, testing new recipes and cocktails.

He also wasn’t very healthy as an athlete. At 16, he began regulating his diet with monastic devotion, quarantining himself from ice cream and his mom’s sandwiches. “I was always starving myself when I was training,” he acknowledges. Most meals consisted of baked potatoes with plain yogurt, salads with cooked pasta and diet dressing, and crackers with jam. He remembers wistfully watching food commercials on TV and writing them down in a “someday” list.

Perhaps most telling is one of Boitano’s fondest food memories. While training in an Alpine village one summer, he was submerged in a number of food firsts: buttery croissants, fluffy quiches, creamy fondue, and gooey raclette. “They eat what they eat,” he chuckles. “They don’t have diet jam and crackers.” He recalls with amusement his coach’s consternation when he returned to the States, stepping off the plane with a few extra pounds—and not the kind in his suitcase.

To Boitano, cooking is a memory maker, a love language expressed to friends and family. “You remember the food, and you remember the stories, and you remember the time you had,” he says before reminiscing about pizza parties hosted for relatives in Italy. (Try not to smile picturing 35 loud Boitanos all helping out in the kitchen.)

Undoubtedly, Boitano continues to embrace life after Olympic gold. But skating will always be an integral part of who he is. It’s in the straight-backed way he holds himself—ever the effortless poise of a skater. It’s in the 24-year-old gleam in his eyes as he talks about Calgary. It’s easy to picture him out there—his blades slicing across the rink in a crisp, satisfying whisper, the air favoring him a little more than the rest of us mortals as he spreads his arms and soars into jumps. But the playful chef is in there, too. You can imagine him surprising a dear friend with paella, or learning to make pasta from his Aunt Maria. In the end, he continues to mix and blend his energetic and spontaneous passions for life into new concoctions as he shifts off the ice and into the kitchen.

 

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Article originally appeared inIssue 10.5 Dine (Print SOLD OUT)

Though artist and craftsman Nicholas “Knoffy” Knopf has been immersed in creating art since a third grade writing project entitled “Attack of the Melting Zombies,” it wasn’t until this past year that he found the courage to share his work with others. Those admiring his work today, however, are given a look into his journey through a palette of creative experiences and influences that still inform his bold and surreal yet
relatable work. 

Without formal art education or training, Nicholas has become a man of many talents and has built his skillset over the years through his own dedication to evolving his craft. All these skills have played their part in developing the artist Nicholas is today—from realizing his love for creating surreal and unconventional drawings at a young age to studying pottery as a teenager, which taught him to be patient with the process; from working under his dad, a painting contractor, where he learned the art of making a smooth, clean line with a brush to learning the art of shaping surfboards. Each experience has granted Nicholas more freedom to create his own vision and share his imagination.

Nicholas’s recent pieces are vivid, dynamic meditations on the Monterey Bay surfing culture that he has been a part of for the last 18 years. His clean line work and simple color palettes give way to wavy, bendy characters with oversized appendages that echo both expressionist and surrealist styles. The most prominent and signature element of his pieces, however, are the dynamic facial expressions of his subjects, who are predominantly surfers in wetsuits. They are the primary element that dictates the subjective interpretation of the piece. Interestingly, the expressions are not posed; rather, they capture a fleeting moment of thought, either deep contemplation or a slight, minuscule transition of a moment—a mere flicker of a thought or a nuance of a passing feeling.

It is Nicholas’s knack for noticing these moments that gives him his inspiration. “Surfing is very dynamic, and a lot of the time people aren’t paying attention to what is happening around them. But if you pay close attention, you can find glimpses of emotion ranging from euphoria to rage.” These emotions are characterized and changed by the simplest of lines. Nicholas approaches these lines as he does when shaping and building surfboards, slowly refining them over time to retain meaning in the simplest
of forms.

Surfing culture is the central visual motif found in Nicholas’s current work, yet its thematic gestures transcend typical coastal beach art. Surfing serves as an entry point into something deeper, surreal, and imaginative. In one piece, in front of a red sky, a languid, angry looking white shark rests upon a reef like a walrus and balances a surfboard upon its nose while glaring mockingly at a surfer wading in the water. In another, a young surfer enters an Escheresque staircase to come out the other side aged, walking out upon a cloud with surfboard in hand. 

“Surfing is very dynamic…if you pay close attention, you can find glimpses of emotion ranging from euphoria to rage.” – Nicholas Knopf

Nicholas moved to Santa Cruz as a teenager and became part of the surf scene, which obviously had a great influence on his artistic vision and aesthetic. Growing up as an artist and surf enthusiast in Santa Cruz, he naturally felt the influence of legend Jim Phillips, the artistic mastermind behind the Santa Cruz skate brand. Nicholas soaked up the work of Phillips, who himself added elements of surrealism and abstractionism to his work. Nicholas extends these local traditions from Santa Cruz’s past into new, untamed paths where his methodical process dictates a less-is-more graphic style. 

Nicholas is currently taking elements he discovered in recent graphic design classes and experiments with mixed media to further elevate his style and bring new meaning to his fluid, clean lines. He relates, “Mixed media feels the most rewarding at the end because the resulting product is more interesting. The process can be tedious and involves a lot of problem solving, and the pieces certainly don’t always come out as planned, but it is always fun to experience the result. Art is a lifelong journey for me—like making surfboards. It is always evolving, and I’m always trying to make it better.” 

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Instagram: kn0ffy

 

Article originally appeared inIssue 12.0 Discover (Print SOLD OUT)

Flowers are intertwined with feelings—and Jose Ibarra and Efrain Escalante of Apis Floral get that. Though they never went to school to learn the art of flower arranging, Ibarra and Escalante (who playfully call themselves “The Flower Guys”) describe a deep connection with, a deep understanding of, the natural world. The name these partners chose for their boutique—Apis, the genus of the honeybee—seems particularly fitting.

Apis specializes in natural, rustic-chic arrangements for corporate events, weddings, holiday parties, and window displays. Though Ibarra and Escalante are of Mexican heritage, they’ve been told their designs have a Parisian flourish. They go the extra mile for quality—visiting the flower market twice a week and tracking down flowers in other cities. Escalante takes on a supporting role, nurturing the moss and succulent walls and botanical designs, handling marketing, and memorializing their creations through social media. Ibarra is the lead floral designer, feeding roses, carnations, and dahlias into vases until they’ve matured into bouquets.

“It’s always an emotion that moves Jose to start working on the bridal bouquet,” says Efrain. “It’s a process. Every time he’s going to start working on bouquets, he’s thinking about the bride. How does she look? What was she wearing for our last appointment? What was her vision for the wedding? How is she going to be carrying that bouquet? It’s like art.” 

 

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instagram: apisfloral

Apis Floral
460 Lincoln Avenue, Suite 30
San Jose, California 95126
+14082885654
flowers@apisfloral.com

Article originally appeared in Issue 9.5 Profiles  (Print SOLD OUT)

T here’s a significant amount of abstraction in flying by plane—after all, you’re hurtling through the air in a metal tub at 30,000-plus feet, but the most surreal moment of your flight is that first glance through the plastic cabin window at the terrain far below. From an aerial angle, the landscape is broken down in a patchwork of shapes and condensed colors like a massive, earthy quilt. Linda Gass captures that feeling through her map-like “stitched paintings,” art that addresses water and land-use issues in California and the American West.

Although she also works with glass, Gass has an obvious soft spot for textiles. “With textiles, they tend to have a comforting feeling to them,” she describes. “We’re used to wrapping ourselves in them. We sleep under them.” Her intricate designs are fashioned by drawing with the sewing machine, guiding the fabric with her hands while controlling the speed and movement of the needle. Averaging a mile’s worth of thread per year, she coalesces teeny tiny stitches into textured patterns that reflect their environment—rolling grasslands curve and loop, rows of crops form neat lines, rivers and oceans coil and ripple.

The highlight is certainly the water, not just in texture but in color. Through silk painting, this artist commingles an ever-changing blend of aquamarine and turquoise, cyan and seafoam. Her H20 interest was initially fostered by her mother. Gass recalls her mom frequently warning her that if she didn’t finish her salad, it would rain the next day (a superstition carried over from her own childhood in the particularly rainy country of Luxemburg). But the threat didn’t carry the same heft, considering LA’s stubborn lack of rain. “We have all these lush green lawns and swimming pools,” Gass remembers pondering. “If it doesn’t rain here, where does our water come from? I had no idea. You know…it comes from the tap!” Later, she was shocked to learn that none of LA’s water came from local sources.

“I use the lure of beauty to look at the hard environmental issues we face.” – Linda Gass

Gass’s enthusiasm for maps also started at a young age. The artist’s face softens with nostalgia when she speaks of hours spent whirling her Rand McNally globe. “I’d play this game where I’d spin the globe, and I’d close my eyes and put my finger on it, just to see where it landed,” she smiles. “Mostly it landed in the ocean because it’s mostly water. Which also left this big impression on me of how much of our planet is water. It was this process
of discovery.”

A few years later, Gass’s time at Stanford continued to cultivate her valuing of sustainable living. “I lived in a co-op house where we ate vegetarian,” she notes. “We did recycling, we didn’t use paper napkins with our dinners, we baked our own bread and granola…all those good hippie things!” Today, her advocacy-fueled artwork features in a number of magazines and books, including a National Geographic publication on unusual maps and the cover of an environmental
science textbook.

One of her favorite pieces to date will be included in a solo show addressing climate change at the Museum of Craft and Design (featured until May 3rd). The stitched painting, Severely Burned, reveals the crippling damage of the Rim Fire in the Tuolumne River Watershed area through an artistically rendered vegetation burn map. It’s a personal piece. Gass has regularly visited and backpacked Yosemite National Park ever since a week-long class trip in 8th grade taught her an appreciation of the area’s ecosystem (from its plants and animals, to the glaciers that
carved its valley).

And she witnessed the fire in person. “There was this cloud, like one I’d never seen before,” Gass recalls of an intense moment staring out the bus window at the horizon. “It was this cauliflower in the sky. It was not a rain cloud. And the underside of it…the whole cloud was grey. There was no white.” The fire burned so hot it had created its own weather, condensing the moisture from the atmosphere into an unnerving pyrocumulus cloud. Gass vividly recollects the flurry of ash later falling like snowflakes, some crusting on the zoom lens of her camera.

Although her work wades through some harsh realities, Gass takes a surprisingly gentle approach. “I use the lure of beauty to look at the hard environmental issues we face—rather than make artwork that may be more ugly like the subject matter that I’m dealing with that people might not want to look at. Or live with.” Visually pleasing images make unappetizing truths a little more palatable. “Otherwise they might want to stick their head in the sand because it’s overwhelming,” she observes. 

Moreover, this artistic choice reveals an optimism in the restoration of natural beauty. Catching a bird’s eye view with Gass reminds us we can aim higher. Rather than settle for a flawed standard, we can choose to be better stewards of the
planet we inhabit.  

 

lindagass.com
Social Media: lindagassart

 

Article originally appeared in issue 12.0 “Discover.”

AAt a typical fashion show you might see grandiose or elegant runways that models strut down, dressed in the latest pieces by prominent designers in the fashion industry. But stripped of all the glitz and glamour are garments that only serve the purpose of meeting current fashion trends or setting the status quo of the fashion world. Pivot: The Art of Fashion puts on events that are not your typical fashion show. Founders and producers Tina Brown and Rose Sellery have set out to blur the lines between fashion and art while engaging their community and setting themselves apart from the norms of the fashion industry.

The visionaries for Pivot originally met while working together at FashionART Santa Cruz and found themselves wanting to support designers and artists outside the mere bounds of Santa Cruz and with events scheduled throughout the whole year, not just on an annual basis. Their background in fashion and art allow them, and Pivot, to flourish in their mission of bringing fashion and art together. Brown holds a degree in environmental design and gained experience in the fashion world by working her way up from making millinery hats to eventually working on runway events and photo shoots for Macy’s, Saks Fifth Avenue, and Giorgio Armani. On the other side of the spectrum, Sellery works closely with different mediums in the visual arts. Sellery encapsulates gender norms and her own personal struggles through conceptual garments and sculptures. With a goal and vision set in mind and the skills and knowledge they possess, Brown and Sellery provide artists and designers who collaborate with Pivot with opportunities to further advance their place in the art and fashion scene.

The process begins with artists submitting an online application with examples of their work and a detailed overview of the performance aspect that would be incorporated into their clothing line modeled at the fashion show. Applications are reviewed by board members who decide if the submitted work fits with a certain venue. Though Brown and Sellery are always looking for new talent, often attending events for West Valley College, the Academy of Art in San Francisco, and City College of San Francisco for potential talent, they have worked with the same artists and designers for many years.

At its core, Pivot is a platform for local artists and fashion designers to showcase their work through photo shoots and runway events, to find the help to sell their work, as well as to foster a sense of community. Blurring the lines between fashion and art at Pivot translates into coiled mattress springs swirled around the lower frame of a model, peanut butter jar labels used to adorn a dress centered around a pun, and flowing designs hand painted on silk scarves, dresses, and skirts. Brown and Sellery work closely with artists and designers to modify pieces that are featured in the runway events, providing constructive criticism to ensure the pieces are cohesive collections. “Really what it’s about is creating an artistic community and supporting artists and designers,” Brown says.

Pivot is a learning process. Brown and Sellery brainstorm ideas with designers and artists and provide them with feedback to incorporate into their designs and eventually the finished product. In that learning process, however, unlearning is necessary.

The thin frames of the models who grace the runways are an issue Brown and Sellery can’t look past. To them, these models do not represent inclusivity or the body positivity they strive to include at Pivot. While the fashion industry does receive some criticism for its size-specific standards, it has become just that—the standard. Brown finds herself telling designers at Pivot to make clothing for all shapes and sizes. “A lot of times designers, especially in New York and in Paris, they’re only cutting for models that basically have no shape and figure; they’re a clothes hanger. That doesn’t really translate to the real world,” says Brown. Aside from Pivot, Brown is the founder of her company, Ilkastyle. The name derives from the ancient Scottish word “ilka,” which means each and every. She applies the philosophy of ilka to style to reflect the need for wearing something people feel comfortable and happy in.

As for Sellery, she expresses her views on the fashion industry’s beauty standards through her art. While watching fashion shows online a few years ago, Sellery found herself struck by how thin the models were. “The women were so emaciated, it was appalling. You could see the bones that ran across their chest and their clavicle poking out, I was just thinking these women were just skin and bone, and it was horrific to look at and not beautiful, in my mind,” Sellery says. Her immediate thoughts led her to create the wearable art piece titled, “Skin and Bones” which symbolizes the normalization and glorification of thin and petite bodies. With sliced bones scattered across the body of the model wearing it, the piece mimics a corset in the way that it tightly clings to her body. “We’re bombarded with a certain look and told, ‘This is what beauty is,’ “ Sellery continues.

Body image is only one of the issues Brown and Sellery work to address through Pivot. Overall inclusivity of people across all walks of life is essential, which can be seen through the people who design and model the clothing at Pivot’s fashion shows. People of different ages, sexualities, and gender identities play a role in Pivot, whether they’re the designers or models, whether older women strutting down the runway or young boys and girls being the brains behind detailed and thought-provoking pieces.

Brown and Sellery work closely with their production of FashionTeens Santa Cruz, a program open to middle and high school students in Santa Cruz County to design and model clothing—usually with recycled material—for its annual fashion show. The duo have enjoyed their time working with teens. It’s allowed them to see how the teens have grown as young people and developed as designers and artists. “There’s a struggle to fit in in a world where they don’t see anyone like themselves in magazines or on television. There’s very few that represent who they can look at and say, ‘That’s beautiful; she’s beautiful,’ ” Sellery says. While Brown and Sellery have seen impressive work from the teens, one of the most memorable designs came from a place of torment and rising above harsh bullying. A young indigenous Mexican girl living in Watsonville became the target of verbal abuse by her classmates for being distinctly different from the rest of the Latino community. Written largely on the girl’s garment were the hurtful words said to her by her classmates. As she walked the runway at the Civic Auditorium in Santa Cruz, her outfit lifted to reveal positive words about her that replaced the negative ones. The whole scene played out in a manner Sellery describes as hauntingly beautiful. “I think it changes how they experience themselves and the confidence they build, not only creating something but wearing it out on stage and getting this riotous applause,” Sellery says regarding the significance of events like FashionTeens and Pivot.

Defying the norms of the fashion industry has proven to be much more than resisting the standards of beauty. Pivot has grown as a space for creative minds to collaborate and create quirky, whimsical, and inspiring pieces in a way that captivates its audience and engages community members beyond just clothing for the sake of pure fashion.

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Facebook: pivotartfashion
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Article originally appeared in Issue 12.3 Perform (Limited issue available)

It’s one of those slow afternoons, and a few lowriders from the Low Conspiracy Car Club have gathered at the garage of current head Sergio Martinez. Surrounded by vintage car prints, show trophies, and shelf upon shelf of model cars, members reminisce over slices of pizza on the organization’s 40-plus years of history.

These memories are bittersweet, reflections trigged by the recent loss of José “All Nighter” Martinez, president during the club’s first decade, and later in life, a regular judge in Lowrider Magazine’s car shows. Last week, the club honored him with a memorial cruise down Santa Clara Street. Now, as they pass around old photos and magazine clippings, a few of the older auto aficionados reflect on the club’s deep impact on their lives.

“It starts out as a hobby and turns into a lifestyle,” muses Abel Hernandez (a retired member of the club, but one of the 10 original high schoolers who first brought it to life back in the ’70s). Sergio smiles his agreement, the Impala symbol tattooed on his arm proof to his friend’s statement. That same mindset holds true across the club. It’s evidenced in the matter-of-fact way club members can rattle off the painters and modifiers behind their cars with the level of pride art collectors reserve for listing the masters framed on their walls.

There’s no argument that these cars are drivable art. “You’re not going to take a family vacation with those,” Abel comments with a chuckle. Sergio nods, “I kinda made mine a trailer queen and chromed everything.” If you’ve witnessed members’ painstaking attention to detail, you’ll understand why. For starters, there’s the handmade Zenith wire wheels with plated spokes in chrome and gold. There’s the big-bodied builds (practically with a couch in the backseat). There’s the hydraulic suspension (some with the power to raise up on three wheels or jump). Occasionally, there’s hidden murals tucked inside the door jams (ready to flash whenever the driver enters or exits
the vehicle).

“It starts out as a hobby and turns into a lifestyle.” – Abel Hernandez

And of course, don’t forget the wild paint jobs—a factor which happened to be José’s specialty. “Anybody can paint,” José’s wife Lisa Martinez says. “But you have to be an artist for it to really come out. They used to call them rolling canvases.” It’s not an exaggeration. If you want to win a car show, you play for keeps. Flashy flourishes of sparkles, patterns, and pin-striping get you on the podium. Or as Lisa puts it, “Go big or go home…Make it so that when it drives down the street, it gives people a headache it’s so bright.”

At times, lowrider painters have been known to take a little creative license. “Sometimes you tell them what you want, and they know that’s not going to look good,” Sergio explains, gesturing at his ’78 Grand Prix’s sunset-style two-tone fade from tangerine to scarlet, a coat accented with crisp yellow pinstripes. “I didn’t want orange on there—but he put it on there. When he told me, I wasn’t happy. And then I saw it…and I went back to him and said ‘Put more on.’ ”

“Carlos [Lima] did that to me, too, with my truck,” Sergio adds. “I wanted different colored flames—and he put a kind of magenta. And first thing I thought was ‘Pink. You painted pink flames on my truck?!’ But every truck show I went to with that truck, I won best flames.”

Judges not only look at the paint but scrutinize all the hidden little details, Sergio explains, describing the spotlights and turntables used to reveal every last facet and angle. And for rides with engraved undercarriages, you better believe their owners bring out the mirrors to capture those beautiful underbellies.

Fittingly, these cars with their loud personalities have an equally memorable origin story. It all started with young Chicano lowriders in post-World War II
Los Angeles.

Tired of whitewashed cultural norms in the States, Mexican Americans expressed pride in their heritage with their own counterculture. So, in response to the nation’s obsession with speedy hot rods and raised trucks, Chicanos embodied their new motto, “Low and Slow,” by cutting coils, lowering blocks, and even adding sandbags or bricks to their trunks.

Unfortunately, apprehension of minorities ran rampant in the ’50s and the media stoked irrational fears of gangster ties. The result was police harassment as well as a 1958 California law that banned lowered cars. Rather than conform, lowriders met this with a cheeky response: hydraulics. Repurposing aircraft landing gear, they could now elevate their ride height to “appropriate levels” at the flip
of a switch.

East San Jose was arguably the hub of the lowrider golden age during the late ’70s and through the ’80s, despite its LA roots—a period Abel refers to as the “King and Story Days.” From Friday to Sunday, Low Conspiracy (which was 80-members strong at its peak) cruised the boulevard with dozens of other clubs late into the night. Thousands of car enthusiasts milled around on the sidewalks and daydreamed themselves into many a driver’s seat.

Cruising acted as a night club on wheels, as much a social staple of the time as spending your nights at the roller rink or the bowling alley. “Once you saw another car flying your plaque [in the rear windshield] you would follow him. Before you knew it, you had a dozen club members cruising together,” Sergio explained in an interview with Lowrider Network. “That was how we met up back when no one had cell phones.”

It was the place to see and be seen. Drivers would showboat by hitting their hydraulics. They’d roll down the windows and blast Latin rock. “Good days when we were out there, huh?” Lisa says to the friend sitting beside her. “That’s when we were young. The guys were out there with their beautiful cars—looking at the girls—who were looking at the guys.”

Unfortunately, the assumption that lowriding and gangsters were somehow linked was still being made by public and police. “They always thought we were up to no good,” Abel recalls. Sergio nods in agreement, “They started fining people, and they were going after the nicest cars because they’re the ones that stood out.”

José, however, was determined to overcome that stigma. “He would approach the chief of police and say, ‘Yo, this is an event we want to do,’ ” Lisa recalls. “He didn’t want them to be hassled.” José and the club also collaborated with local firefighters on toy drives. The message was clear: we’re not here to cause trouble. “You have to give back to your community and show that you’re part of the community,” Lisa states. “You’re not the problem.” These gestures earned them respect among law enforcement.

“Some people are scared of [lowriders], but, nah, it’s all families nowadays,” Sergio verifies. “I’ve been doing it my whole life. I’m older and I got a couple of little grandkids too…the whole family gets into it!” In fact, on more than one occasion, the club has chauffeured young ladies and their quinceañera courts to party venues. “They get a kick out of it,” Abel smiles.

At the end of the day, the club is one big family. Again and again, the Low Conspiracy guys refer to the special brotherly bond shared by members. “When I first started going with them, we happened to park all of the Martinez’s together, just coincidentally,” Sergio recalls, “and somebody noticed and said, ‘Hey, are you guys all brothers?’ And José pops up right away. ‘Oh yeah, we’re
all brothers.’ ”

“And he loved being the big brother,” Lisa shares. “He was always referring to Abel as ‘my little brother.’ With everybody. Even the younger guys that were starting, he’d say ‘Oh that’s my son.’ And people thought he had all these kids!” She chuckles at that. Though José retired from the club for a time, it was Lisa who encouraged him to rejoin a few years at the end of his life.

As the group returns to the present from this trip down memory lane, conversation steers toward the upcoming car show at History Park. It’s going to be in July, just in time for the club’s 45th anniversary and will reward a scholarship to a kid who wants to go into auto painting (in memory of José, of course).

Sergio sits back and watches his friends refill their plates with pizza. He gives a contented glance around at his patch of paradise, brightened with tools and trophies. “I’ll be in the club forever,” he declares. “You’ve seen my garage. I’m not going nowhere.” 

Article originally appeared in Issue 13.4 Profiles (Print SOLD OUT)

Self Care in a Cup

With how well they get along, you’d have no idea that Be’Anka Ashaolu and Jeronica Macey were sisters, let alone flourishing business partners. Together, they built Nirvana Soul.

Replacing the beloved Caffe Frascati after one of its owners retired, Nirvana Soul reflects the warmth of the sisters’ relationship. The duo, sometimes known as “Jeranka,” has transformed the coffee shop from a vintage Italian ambiance to an open space brightened with plants and evolving walls of art. The cherry on top? A bright pink ceiling.

Since she was 22, CEO and cofounder Jeronica has dreamt of building an inclusive coffee shop. “I do believe that everyone has a purpose,” Jeronica encouraged. “And I feel like that every time I’m in a coffee shop; I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be,” she continued.

Jeronica first fell in love with the coffee business while working at Peet’s Coffee in Willow Glen. Over the years and between “real” office jobs, she’s always found herself back at the cafes. Before opening Nirvana Soul, her final stops were at Bon Appétit and the nearby Voyager Craft Coffee—both of which left her with strong friendships and partnerships.

“I do believe that everyone has a purpose. And I feel like that every time I’m in a coffee shop; I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.” –Jeronica Macey

Meanwhile, cofounder Be’Anka’s career took her into marketing and sales operations, which is why she became the CMO of San Jose’s first Black-owned coffee shop. The people-centered leader explained that because she grew up surrounded by technology in Silicon Valley, she doesn’t think anything is impossible. Her mentality has been essential for the shop’s success.

Jeronica described her sister as “the type of person that is a pusher, in a good way, but…”

“I like to ‘encourage’ her,” Be’Anka cut in.

“ ‘Encourager. Your word!” Jeronica laughed. “She definitely has a ‘can-do-it’ [mentality].” The CEO continued, “I don’t trust anyone more than I trust my sister.”

When Jeronica approached Be’Anka about opening a coffee shop, the CMO’s response was, “Let’s just try! The worst thing that can happen is that we fail. And then we just don’t want to be like old ladies thinking back to like, ‘Why didn’t we just try to open Nirvana Soul?’ ”

When the sisters started their search in 2019 for what would become their second home, Caffe Frascati owners Roger and Caroline Springall were serendipitously looking for new owners. The four hit it off right away. “They really liked us and felt like we were the right people to take over this place, so they wanted to work with us. And they did,” Be’Anka said as she described the various obstacles the first-time owners had to overcome.

For most of their planning process, they relied on Google, starting with typing, “How to open a coffee shop in downtown San Jose?” into the search bar. “Seriously! That’s how we did it,” Be’Anka confirmed.

Since opening in the summer of 2020, they have supported dozens of artists, from SJSU students to an 82-year-old painter. For many creators, it’s their first chance to publicly share their stories and display their work. When choosing what to display in Nirvana Soul’s free, mini gallery, Jeronica explained that “the truth is, it honestly is a vibe. Like we feel if the energy matches Nirvana Soul. It’s such an instinctual thing.”

The only permanent paintings are their two murals: a word collage by Emilio Cortez and an image of the owners’ faces with coffee beans in their hair by first-time muralist Ricardo González Kurszewski.

Be’Anka went on to share that she and Jeronica have built their business with the community and with the artists. She firmly believes that “this business is not what it is without the artists,” who are all people of color. These mutually beneficial relationships have solidified the coffee shop’s spot in the vibrant SoFA District and in countless people’s hearts.

In early August, Jeronica and Be’Anka added comedians, poets, DJs, and musicians to their community. Their Thursday-night-live addition arrived in tandem with their extended hours, which now go until 7pm most days. Their barista and rapper Jordan Melvin (aka “Gatsby”) hosted the debut event on August 6th.

Jordan taking the stage is a quintessential example of the supportive, growth-oriented culture Jeronica and Be’Anka have taken from their childhoods and instilled into the baristas. More than just coffee experts, the owners push their team to explore their passions and take ownership over other parts of the business. “It’s nice to be around people who care about something as much as we do, which is often not the case,” explained Be’Anka.

To name a few examples of these more-than-barista game changers, we have sound engineer Joy Hackett and baking guru Eli Schwartz, who run their music and open mic programs. Leti Castellano is their animator and illustrator, Kevin Crisafulli writes their monthly newsletter, associate manager Mariseth Abat is a featured photographer, and Daniel Rios is their trained opera singer.

“I don’t know if I just was really lucky or blessed,” Jeronica boasted about her close-knit team that hangs out after hours to get food and go thrift shopping. “Our team really gets along, you know what I’m saying? But that’s how it’s always been at every coffee shop I’ve ever been at. I feel like there’s nothing like that,” said the owner, who meets one-on-one with her team on a biweekly basis to check in on their goals and mental health. “They’re doing so much for me to help me live my dream. I want to be able to pour back into them and their dreams,” the coffee queen shared.

The challenges of owning a coffee shop or restaurant are no secret. Few survive their first year. And yet by Nirvana Soul’s 10th month in business, the founders were already scouting out places for their second location.

The team’s drive and community’s support are directly correlated with the success of the brick-and-mortar store that opened six months into the pandemic. The community propels the coffee shop by asking for things that it can’t yet do. Be’Anka explained that “people believe in us so much that people will literally be like, ‘Ok, well, when you ARE roasting, I want you in our restaurant…’ We get that a lot on all kinds of different opportunities.”

Courtesy of Dap Ashaolu, their CFO and head of products, in July the sisters added a roastery and warehouse to their empire; a feat that usually takes years to reach. “I just felt like we kept being in those situations where the doors were opening,” said Jeronica.

From childhood, when they shared their grandmother’s leftover coffee—diluted with water and boosted with too much sugar—to today, the power sisters have only begun chasing their dreams.

 

“We just don’t want to be like old ladies thinking back to like, ‘Why didn’t we just try to open Nirvana Soul?’ ” –Be’anka Ashaolu

 

NirvanaSoulCoffee.com

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Is it real art or is it digital art? This is the question that San Jose artist Joseph Arruda is frequently asked, and his answer is: both. Influenced by award-winning American artist and writer Bill Sienkiewicz’s aesthetic to “learn all the rules so you can fundamentally figure out when to ignore them,” Arruda creates what he calls an “art hack,” mixing a variety of digital and traditional techniques to create his abstract and portraiture artwork. 

How do you figure out when to ignore the rules?

I look at the process as: I have been given a tool, what are the natural limits and corner cases for this thing? Sometimes you get a spectacular result that isn’t even reproducible and sometimes you go, that was a bad idea and really didn’t work.

“It’s kind of a Zen anarchy thing.” – Joseph Arruda

When people ask you what you “do,” how do you answer?

It depends on the context. Since I am equal parts tech geek and a creative, I lead with whichever I think the audience is likely to grasp easier. When I tell some folks that I do art or illustration as part of my livelihood, the looks range from acknowledgement to dumbfounded.  

What is your process, your medium?

I’ll use just about anything available (except oils, which I love but have no real facility with or patience for), but I definitely orbit around a lot of the same materials: acrylics, gouaches, a large army of various pens and markers, and various digital tools such as Photoshop, Krita, and Context Free.

I do a few things that seem to be my own schtick, mostly around the mixing of analog and digital. It’s something I’ve actively played with, and I suspect most of what I do is both a little bit primitive and a little bit unorthodox, which may be why a lot of folks regularly ask “which part is real and which part is the computer” and I’m not sure you can quantify it in the end really…and to be honest I’m not sure why it would matter. It’s kind of a Zen thing.

My head never got the memo that said you’re either this or you’re that. I just said if there is something out there and it will produce an interesting result and I can figure out how to use it, I will use it. So my process, for lack of a better term, grew out of that. For example, I will start with a pencil sketch, scan that sketch, print the sketch on Bristol paper, paint on that, scan it again, print it out again in color, etc. In some ways it’s a ridiculously overwrought or inefficient process, but mentally it works for me. 

 

What inspires and motivates you?

Almost anything, really. My head can occasionally make some ambitious creative leaps from the seemingly mundane. It probably also helps to live in an urban area that always has stuff going on.

How would you describe your subject matter? What themes seem to occur/recur in your work?

Of the material I’ve published, the two biggest groupings are stylized portraiture and abstract work. I also come back to kind of absurd/sci-fi styled illustration. For example, if you picked up local drum deity Wally Schnalle’s latest album, Idiot Fish, the sleeve image was by me. 

What would people be surprised to learn about you?

People outside of San Jose seem surprised that I chose     living in San Jose over [living in] San Francisco, and part of that was because of the art and music scene—that point really makes newer SF transplants apoplectic. It’s small, but vibrant, and getting better.  

What are your biggest challenges in creating art?

Space. It is no secret that the cost of square footage is at a premium, so that can often act as a constraint. Beyond that, maybe that there are only twenty-four hours in a day? It sounds trite, but I do actually have way more ideas than I can ever hope to complete execution on…but that is what it is.

Is there something you are currently working on, or are excited about starting, that you can tell us about?

A series of jazz portraits I’m finishing in hopes of getting them shown at Cafe Stritch, over on First Street.

 

Article originally appeared in Issue 7.1 Discover  (Print SOLD OUT)

Artist Isaac S. Lewin is a multidisciplinary artist with a studio at the School of Visual Philosophy in San Jose. He creates unique sculptural pieces in two different styles: signs that contain text-like forms with no concrete meaning and large, three-dimensional, welded-metal wireframe structures.

Lewin is talkative and thoughtful, with a unique charm that makes you feel like you’ve known him for years, even upon first meeting. Despite being a transplant to San Jose, he has a passion for the community and the artists he’s found in the South Bay. But his artistic roots are grounded in the graffiti and street art he saw in his hometown of San Luis Obispo. 

“I lived on a dead end, and we had train tracks at the end of the street, and I also lived on San Luis Obispo Creek,” he says. “I saw a lot of graffiti growing up, even though I’d grown up in a fairly small, agricultural town. All the creeks from my backyard go through downtown, and then also there’s tons of bridges and the train, so these are all like central places where graffiti is committed, so to speak. Walking through the tunnel, you’re seeing all this graffiti. I’d ride my bike by the train tracks all the time and see graffiti coming by on the Amtrak line and the freight cars. So over time, around the age of 15 to 16, I started painting graffiti.”

At age 18, he moved to Osorno, Chile, as an exchange student and discovered a whole new world of graffiti culture that dwarfed his own small-town experience. “It was like showing up to New York in 1984; there’s kids in the plaza writing in blackbooks, freestyle rapping. The community was as authentic as it could get. All it did was bolster my commitment to graffiti and hip-hop culture.”

This passion for the letterforms of graffiti has stuck with him through his studies and career. After attending college at the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, Washington, he returned to California to work on an MFA at San Jose State, where he refined his concepts and began exhibiting his works. 

His signage pieces examine the beauty of text by emulating the forms of letters, but creating “words” with no meaning.

“The whole idea is to take a communicative format, which is signage, and then put something that can’t be communicated,” he explains. “I’m just trying to create beautiful text; I don’t want you to be distracted by the word ‘war’ or the word ‘peace’ because those things have so many meanings for people, based on their own histories and identity. But text is inherently human. It’s our basis for communication, and I’m creating a property where everyone can read it at the same literacy level. It doesn’t even have a sound, because we can’t speak it—but we know it’s communicative.”

The metal wireframes, meanwhile, have a different visual impact but draw from a similar concept. While these site-specific works appear deliberate in their form, Lewin’s approach in creating them is much more freestyle. He takes sections of steel and welds them together at joints, constructing the figure as he goes. Somehow, the result still tends to resemble graffiti, with shapes that imply letterforms and give an impression of the outline of a tag you might see under a bridge or on a train car in San Luis Obispo or on the streets of Chile. 

“Text is inherently human. It’s our basis for communication, and I’m creating a property where everyone can read it at the same literacy level.” -Isaac Lewin

“The style that they come out is just that way almost subconsciously,” he admits. “It’s kind of like a doodle, but instead of making a mark on the plane of paper, the space is just the paper, and the rod is the line. I don’t actually measure any of the things beforehand. I take the length of steel…cut it…weld it…and then I just build and build, and I listen to headphones and so it’s just music. I need to know the parameters of the area, but otherwise, I’m just building—just drawing in space.”

Lewin encourages people to see these pieces in person, with good reason. Their wireframe nature means photographs flatten the works, but in person, the three-dimensionality is striking, with the structures popping out of the walls on which they hang, filling the space and creating a form that changes its appearance depending on the viewing angle. While many of these works are in private collections, two can be found in the lounge of the Foundry Commons building near downtown San Jose. 

Ultimately, Lewin’s goal with his art is a simple one. “I can give you all these conceptual ideas and break it down really philosophically,” he says, “but at the end of the day, I’m just trying to make cool-looking shit. Most people only spend a matter of seconds with any piece of art in a museum. I think artists need to be really conscious of that first initial grab of visuals; once you’re drawn in, then you can meditate on it and think about it on a higher level. That’s important, but I think first it should just be…cool.” 

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Article originally appeared in Issue 13.1 Discover (Print SOLD OUT)

Jhere’s a picture book kind of playfulness to Diane Villadsen’s photos. Not only do they practically twirl with sprightly youth and wonder, but they also toy with colors and shapes. They remind the viewer to let out that inner kid for a breath of fresh air.

The first thing others tend to notice about Villadsen’s visuals are those joyful, zany splashes of color. “I find myself coming back and back again to the same colors,” she observes. “Pinks, mint greens, tomato reds, yellows.” She’s crafted several presets so anyone can dip their pictures in what she describes as her “candy-colored dreamworld.” The palate, creamy and colorful with a vintage flourish, imparts a Candyland-come-to-life kind of aura. The feeling is furthered by delicious preset names—titles like Pop! Cotton Candy and Pop! Jelly Bean. One of her favorites—Pop! Peppermint (“warm, pink undertones with a dreamy glow”) is particularly fitting considering Villadsen’s wistfulness for a world glimpsed through rose-colored glasses.

“I love painting a picture for people, a different universe,” Villadsen notes. “I want it to feel—not like I’m in San Jose surrounded by strip malls and beige buildings—but I want it to feel like we’re in this magical world where it’s modern and clean and colorful and the buildings are painted crazy colors.”

“There has to be a layer of unexpected and a layer of almost…impossible in every photo.” -Diane Villadsen

This alternative view of the world, slightly weirder and far more whimsical than reality, recalls childhood imagination. Often the aesthetic results in the unanticipated: “There has to be a layer of unexpected and a layer of almost…impossible in every photo,” Villadsen says. As an example, she describes two approaches to a photoshoot on a pretty green hillside. “Some photographers would just take someone attractive there and shoot them at golden hour and call it a day. And that’s a beautiful photo. But almost anyone can get to that point technically.” In contrast, Villadsen seeks to add that extra layer. “I might bring five different colorfully painted chairs to that hillside—either have one model that I’m going to clone five times or five models.”

In addition, Villadsen’s adult models reclaim the creativity of youth—particularly through how they play with shapes. The photographer gives them the space to interact tactilely with props, often in a goofy manner. One model might strike spirited poses with the halves of a grapefruit, holding the rosy circles over her eyes like some kind of bush baby. Or two friends might toss a cinnabar-red ball back and forth as they balance on giant building block cubes.

In her series Taking Shape, a collaboration with installations designer Claire Xue, she kicks it up a notch. Xue cut out amoeba-shaped forms from people-sized pieces of foam. Villadsen then captured her two models, Xin and Joel, interacting with the props as they followed the impulses of their imagination. With the enthusiasm and energy of kids exploring a jungle gym, the models entwined legs and arms around the curves, poked their bodies through large holes in the foam’s surface, and toted the giant shapes about the set. “My not even knowing the results made it almost cooler,” Villadsen smiles. “It made some magical combinations.”

The childlike wonder of these images is tempered with a more complex adult lens, most noticeably through rich representation. The photographer often recruits elderly models as well as minorities with skin tones as diverse as her color scheme. And her portrayals of women are anything but stagnant. A girl in Villadsen’s images is never simply a pretty face. “What can I do to make this not just a pretty person, a pretty photo?” she asks herself. “What’s the next level?

Curiosity, joy, energy—these attributes don’t have to be monopolized by the younger generation. They’re vital at any age. Let Villadsen be a reminder to play with your environment, indulge your inquisitive side, and savor those candy-colorful moments. 

Article originally appeared in Issue 12.2 Sight and Sound  PURCHASE ISSUE

Scott Fulton began with San Jose Jazz 2013 to oversee the Summer Fest performing artists’ transpiration, getting them pick-up from the airport, taking them to hotels, and getting to their performances. Since then, his role has expanded to include helping write grants, managing the high school all-star big band and the U-19 combo, and organizing the summer camp. 

Scott played a primary role in the development of the Boom Box, the mobile box truck stage. He has recently led the project to transfer a section of the 310 South First office space (home to SVCreates/Content Magazine and San Jose Jazz) into a performance lounge called the “Break Room.”

In our conversation, we talk about Scott’s influences as a musician and some plans for the “Break Room,” which will be open during Summer Fest 2021.

To find out more about San Jose Jazz, Summer fest 2021, and other program, visit sanjosejazz.org

Ryan Melchiano and Ryan Hisamune met in 2002 after college while working at Hukilau in San Francisco. Melchiano was serving, eventually getting into management, while Hisamune was working as a barback. They found themselves having similar work ethics and ideas about the restaurant industry and found themselves having conversations about what they would do if they could ever open a restaurant of their own.

As a friendship developed, Melchiano and Hisamune worked together on various restaurant and club projects in San Francisco. When Melchiano was asked to help owners of Hukilau open the nightclub Suede, he brought Hisamune along to be a part of the team. Melchiano and Hisamune continued to gain experience and a track record of successful endeavors such as the opening of Big, which within a year was rated as one of the top 10 bars in San Francisco.

“You just know when you meet people and you like them and you get along with them, you’re just going to be surrounded by them for a while.”

The two Ryans met Pomaikai Shishido coincidentally at the Hukilau, where Shishido was managing and bartending at the time. The three starting talking. Melchiano and Hisamune were managing at 620 Jones and invited Shishino to bartend for a party they were having with the intention of seeing if he could sink or swim. Shishido swam.

In 2011, the trio decided to venture out together and try something new. Melchiano, Hisamune, and Shishido began to see that there was a demand in the South Bay when they polled their SF bar guests and found out 40 percent of their clientele were from San Jose. Recognizing there were customers in San Jose looking for a different dining experience, the three saw an opportunity to open a place that would combine their aesthetics and vision that had been brewing years earlier.

After a couple years of researching the nightlife and locations in San Jose,  they found the space adjacent to San Pedro Square Market that was once an horse stable. But over the years, previous tenants, most recently – Tapas Bar & Lounge, had covered up many of the building’s original features. Melchiano, Hisamune, and Shishido wanted to bring back to the historical aspects of the stable and embrace its roots.

Doing many of the interior improvements themselves, people walking by found it hard to believe that the crew covered in drywall dust were the actual owners. Having that kind of commitment to their vision is what gives SP2 its unique aesthetic. Together they divided up tasks but always, quality was the thread that bound them together.

In August 2013, SP2 had its grand opening. Melchiano was married the same week that the restaurant opened and worked the day before and after his wedding. For the three co-owners, the restaurant is their top priority. “When someone doesn’t like what we do or complains, it really burns us because we do care. We built that chair and put that light up,” says Melchiano. “We are married to this place.”

With Melchiano’s leadership, Hisamune’s bar expertise, and Shishido’s knack for marketing and social media, SP2 (San Pedro Squared) has already made a mark in San Jose’s dining scene. Yet, even though with the SP2 team’s experience, Hisamune admits he was caught off guard by craft beer scene in San Jose. “I realize people down here are very knowledgable bout that scene,” explains Hisamune, “And they expect that, so we changed most of our taps during the first month.”

Walking through the doors of SP2, guests are welcomed by an open kitchen and the warmth of a wood fire oven. The reclaimed custom designed furniture by local craftsmen and large hardwood main dinner are inviting and blend the old with the new.  Along the wall is a large wooden bar displaying not only a vast selection of beverages, but upon closer look guests will notice metal rings in the bricks where horses used to be tied to during the building’s original stable days.

Besides a wide selection of drinks, SP2 has a food menu that changes every month. As an athlete, Melchiano is very keen to healthy eating and it shows in his dedication to sourcing mostly local and organic foods. SP2’s American bistro menu has been developed with the help of chef and friend Executive Ola Fendert. Resident chef Kelvin Ott complements the owners’ passion with his own dedication to a perfect dining experience.

These elements make SP2 a welcomed addition to downtown’s expanding culture. And there is a sense that Melchiano, Hisamune, and Shishido have just begun. With their commitment to always improving, plans are in the works to redesign the back private dining room as well as opening the lounge into San Pedro Square Market’s courtyard in the spring of 2014.

“We’re always looking for other locations for other projects. You can be ambitious but you have to be careful to not be foolish. We want to make this our number one spot. We have a commitment to this community,” Melchiano says.

SP2 COMMUNAL BAR + RESTAURANT
72 N Almaden Ave
San Jose, CA 95110
408.299.2000

This article originally appeared in Issue 6.0 Discover.

What began as Koji Sake Lounge is now one-year-old Nomikai, a “social food and drinkery” (after the Japanese for “drinking party”) that specializes in premium sake and Japanese whiskey. Its owners, Kathy and Tone, are married high school sweethearts (talk about connected) who emphasize the fact that their establishment exists beyond the purpose of providing food and drink for patrons: through it, they aim to provide a place for all members of the community to feel welcome, to gather, and to flourish.

Did you grow up being interested in restaurants or cooking?

Tone: Not really, we both had corporate jobs before this. We were interested in having a place where people can come and hang out. For us, we wanted a place where we could go out and feel comfortable at the same time, and have people come together. [At Nomikai], you can be anyone: you can be a college kid and come in and have a few beers, you can be a sophisticated businessman coming in for some whiskey. That’s what we wanted.

Kathy: We don’t really have culinary backgrounds, this was more about filling a void. I mean there wasn’t even a place where we could really go. It was always just a dive bar or a club or a sit-down restaurant. We were like, “How come there’s nothing in between?” We figured there were people out there who don’t fit into certain “scenes.” So when we had the idea for our place, we were like, “Okay, this has a nice casual atmosphere where anyone can come and feel welcome.”

What other factors have made your establishment successful?

Kathy: We have a good family, a good team. That’s one thing that separates us from other places in the area: our service is really personable. People will recognize you by your name when you come in. It’s not just about creating a drink and being like, you know, “Here you go,” and then setting off to the next customer. Everyone here is really open and friendly and will greet you with a warm smile. It’s the team that makes this place what it is.

Tone: Yeah, a bar is just a bar, a restaurant is just a restaurant, but service is what keeps people coming back.

Why sake?

Kathy: Well, when I had my first encounter with sake I knew it was something really, really unique. I always said to Tony, you know, “This stuff is really good and there’s not really a place we can go to access it around here.” That’s when we decided to open our own place.

Tone: Not a lot of people knew what sake was at first, but after time people would come in and say “Can I have the Namazake?” They’d order by the Japanese names. We serve tasting flights [where people can become familiar with a variety of different kinds]. We also do occasional tastings where the vendors come by and they’ll bring their line, they’ll let you taste some and they’ll educate you. People have expanded their knowledge of sake and we’re pretty proud of that.

How have you made a place for yourself in this city?

Kathy: We’ve spent most of our lives here, so we do have a love for the city. When we opened, there were two other businesses on this street. Now ever since, it’s been growing and we’re really excited to be a part of that.

Tone: We know this is a small mom-and-pop business, but we operate it as professionally as we can. We hold staff and service to the highest standards. We’re very connected with the local community, also.

Kathy: Yeah, staying connected with the community is definitely something we’re on top of. We hold community mixers, fundraisers, and things like that. We try to give back as much as we can. This past Thanksgiving and Christmas we did fundraisers for Give Thanks, Give Back, so for every pizza sold we donated another to Second Harvest. And we did a toy drive for Christmas. Nonprofits will come in and do little mixers and we try to help them out as much as we can. So, yeah, it’s all about community. We can’t exist without each other.

Any advice for restaurant entrepreneurs?

Kathy: It’s been the most rewarding thing to start something with an entrepreneurial spirit so young. It’s different with this generation, from a business standpoint. You have to think out of the box, you can’t just open your doors and expect to be successful. You have to adapt and be really creative. You need to have passion and drive, I mean, that’s something you can’t learn in the corporate world. That’s something that comes from within. If you have passion, great, we need more of that in this world.

NOMIKAI
48 S First St
San Jose, CA 95113
408.287.7199

This article originally appeared in Issue 7.2 Connect.

J eremiah Kille creates art that blurs the line between figurative expression and geometric abstraction.

Born and raised in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, Jeremiah Kille has liked art as early as he can remember. Though his family moved around from Arizona to Sacramento, Kille’s love of art kept growing. An avid skateboarder and snowboarder, Kille’s early artistic influences came from the bold graphics that adorned his decks. “Early on, I was exposed to a lot of skate art and culture,” he recalls,  adding, “Like skateboarding, a lot of my art is pretty graphic.”

Kille drew more than the average kid, but it wasn’t something he took seriously until much later. He spent most of his twenties outdoors, working as a mountain guide at ski resorts, making and shaping surfboards—anything that was outside and required his hands. Kille credits all these almost-careers with informing his artistic expression. At the time, Kille was living in Santa Cruz with his then wife and was looking for a direction to take his life in. He considered nursing like his wife; instead, she encouraged him to go into art. “I was a late bloomer,” Kille laughs, “and it was pretty amazing how supportive of my art she was.”

He started attending San Jose State University in his late twenties, where he studied pictorial arts, including oil painting, printmaking, and drawing. “At that time, I was really focused on making surfboards,” Kille says. “But at some point, there was a shift for me, mostly with my son being born.”

He knew that making surfboards wasn’t a lucrative enough industry to support his family. Around that time, he also started hanging large paintings at Verve Coffee Roasters in Santa Cruz. Kille wasn’t expecting much, but the work hanging in Verve was a hit, and he sold a number of paintings while still in school. The positive reception of his work, plus the good money he was getting for it, really shifted Kille into being an artist full-time. “It sounds bad, but money was a big motivator,” Kille says. “Times were tough, so I gave myself a year window to really pursue art.”

A couple of months into his self-imposed time frame, Kille knew that he wasn’t going to quit art anytime soon. “I was all in,” he recalls, adding, “This is what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

Kille’s art is a bold, explosively toned journey into his subconscious. Much like his juggling of jobs, Kille’s work is a kaleidoscopic expression of the warring sides of his brain, where one day abstraction takes the driver’s seat and on another day figurative composition bleeds in. Focusing often on living, breathing motifs, such as elephants, birds, and matadors, and on the more inanimate, like boats and hot air balloons, Kille transforms this familiar imagery into a vibrant, texture-hopping landscape of metaphysical possibility.

Working mostly in oil and acrylic paint, Kille creates geometric compositions that melt into graphic representations of dreams through the use of loud, wild color. By combining the familiar elements of different styles, Kille creates entirely unique and unfamiliar compositions. “I am drawn to art that has elements of abstraction with moments of realism or recognizable objects,” Kille says. “To me, that combination is provoking. When I look at art like that, I am drawn in by the tensions between the two worlds as well as the balance.”

Through most of his artistic life, Kille has been met with pushback to his desire to jump around between styles and techniques. He understands unifying one’s work and seeing the artist as a brand, but Kille refuses to be tied down to one style or forced into one direction. He says, “If you look at my work, I do a few different things. I think it’s natural for me to not be boxed in creatively.”

As for the future, Kille’s work is going to be featured in an art show in Sacramento, as well as at numerous outdoor festivals, where he hopes to expand his large-scale painting skill. Either way, Jeremiah Kille is going to continue making art on his terms—and sometimes get recognition for it.

 

jeremiahkille.com

Instagram: jeremiahkille

Article originally appeared in Issue 10.3 Perform  (Print SOLD OUT)

Engineers are known for being problem-solvers, so when Mark Williams found that his collection of mechanical musical machines had outgrown his living room, he did what any creative thinker would do. He constructed a building for them.

Not just any building. The atmosphere had to be right for his prized collection, so he built them a whole soundscape, authentic right down to the brick walls, the chatter of diners, and the hiss of the soda fountain. He built them the Orchestria Palm Court, a new restaurant located in the city’s theatre district.

Williams hails from a musically-inclined family and wanted to learn to play the piano, although he admits to not inheriting the gene, so he bought himself a player piano—just as a backup. The piano wasn’t working when he bought it so he learned to fix it himself and there began his fascination with the machines.

“You can’t find these songs on CD,” says Williams. “If you want to hear them, you have to find a roll.” He is referring to the perforated paper cylinders which allow notes and controls to operate the hammers inside the instruments via a vacuum. Each roll held five to ten tunes, usually the most popular songs of the time. Many of them are reminiscent of the soundtrack for old cartoons. Remember “Mack the Knife,” “I’m Just Wild About Harry,” and “I Ain’t Got Nobody?”

“No one is going to hurry you. Stay as long as you like.” -Mark Williams

I asked Williams to play me one of these classics and, after offering an apology for the quietness of the empty room, he disappeared to activate a control panel in the back of the bar. The machine that came to life was a Violano Virtuoso, a self-playing violin. The strings inside are played by small rollers and the fingers on the strings are metal. Combined with a piano frame, the Virtuoso is a fascinating mechanism to watch that puts out a powerful sound designed for public places—it is meant to be heard in tandem with clinking glasses, laughter, and conversation.

The Art Nouveau nymphs frolicking on the panel of his 1926 Electramuse Jukebox also adorn the walls, decorated with prints and posters selected by Williams’ partner Russ. Purely acoustic, the wooden jukebox spins ten records with no amplification, just the horn of the Victrola inside. Player pianos line the walls, and three stand side by side up above the bar.

But not all of Williams’ machines produce music. He also owns an automated popcorn machine which individually butters each perfectly-popped kernel. The machine runs on Sundays. “Otherwise, it smells like a circus in here,” says Williams.

He does not want the place to be a museum or a kitschy old-time throwback. The interior of the ex-auto showroom built in 1910 has been lovingly renovated by Williams. The brick walls were designed to recreate the original feel and acoustics of a bar or restaurant at the turn of the century. 

The whole process took nine years. Retrofitting the exposed girders for earthquakes, installing A/C on the new roof and running all new electrics underground all took place while he was working for a startup. Then, just when he hit the point of no return, the startup folded. The restaurant, which was originally his retirement strategy became his full-time concern. “I had done everything except the final kitchen build-out. If I hadn’t done that, the building would have been useless.”

So Williams expanded his plans for the restaurant, designing a menu that features grass-fed beef, free-range eggs, and real creamery butter. “Not much comes out of downtown that isn’t deep fried. We just do cooking,” he says. 

Specializing in the warm and familiar European favorites, the dinner menu includes pork chops and steaks as well as salmon and ratatouille. Comfort food made from scratch daily with natural ingredients. Williams feels strongly about healthy cooking right down to the fiber content of his whole wheat flour. He has given the food he serves a great deal of thought. The kitchen does not use microwave ovens or deep fat fryers. “It’s not low-fat or low-calorie,” says Williams, “but I have lost ten pounds eating this ice cream.”

Many of the dessert items have been recreated from period recipes. The ice cream soda fountain features organic ice cream from Three Twins in Petaluma. Even the drinks are made with freshly-squeezed fruit juices. 

At first glance, the prices on the menu seem a bit high, but Williams decided to go with another nod to the practices of the past. The prices include service and tax. There are no waiters at Orchestria Palm Court. His customers order from the rear counter and pay when they are ready. No tipping is allowed. 

So has the engineer found more than a perfect home for his collection? Will this gamble on affection for the sounds of the past combined with a healthy modern consciousness win over the downtown crowd? “The jury is still out on that one,” says Williams.

By adopting theatre hours and staying open until 11:30 PM, Williams hopes to encourage people to come just for a glass of wine or a dessert. “No one is going to hurry you. Stay as long as you like.” 

ORCHESTRIA PALM COURT
27 E William St
San Jose, CA 95112
408.288.5606
info@orchestriapalmcourt.com
Friday 5:45pm-8:30pm or later
Saturday 5:45pm-8:30pm or later
Sunday 4:30pm-7:30pm
(Hours vary)

Article originally appeared in Issue 5.5 Feast in 2013.
Print Issue is SOLD OUT

 

S tanding 18 feet high, Talking Heads is a sculpture composed of empty space surrounded by stainless steel. Artist Oleg Lobykin’s largest piece to date, some have compared it to intricate coral or a spinal column. Lobykin hoped to use the unique language of art to set humans to thinking about their technological impact on future generations. Talking Heads graced the sands of Black Rock City in 2019. “For 12 years I have been to Burning Man,” says Lobykin. “I was amazed and blown away when I showed up the first time, specifically by art and what people do, and creativity on every level—the juxtaposition of technology and nature.”

Born in St. Petersburg to a military officer and a midwife, Lobykin has always enjoyed creating. “I always liked to escape from reality, to be in your own world and look for things like curves in the clouds. I like to waste time like that—drawing during school lessons. Before I ended up in the US, I was drawing a lot of cowboys and Indians.” At art school, Lobykin studied to become a master stone carver, following architectural drawings and creating free designs, like gargoyles. After graduation, Lobykin went to New York to work on the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and to Alabama, creating a 23-foot column carved into a mountain at the opening of a limestone quarry, training local stone carvers to help with the work.

When the Perestroika movement took hold, Lobykin decided to go back to Russia and “take a break from stone time to wear a shirt and tie and do something completely different” and set up a business. There he met his future wife, a Californian who happened to be in Russia. When she wanted to continue her education, they relocated to Palo Alto. “I am lazy and hate to spend time in traffic, so I started to look close by for a job.” When Lobykin saw the sandstone in the main court at Stanford, and found they had staff architects, he showed them his portfolio and was hired. Stonesculpt, his masonry restoration company, is still working for Stanford 20 years later—as well as for the Presidio and the City of San Jose.

Lobykin has a studio in East Palo Alto where he lives with his wife and daughter and continues to express himself in his art, selling some pieces and showing in a handful of galleries. He created No Swimming for Burning Man in 2008. Over the next few years, the piece went to Google HQ and then to Newport Beach. Now, Playa to Paseo, the Burning Man Project, and the City of San Jose collaboration has brought the 12-foot sculpture to SAP Center. “Its original meaning was about danger, fear, and hope for tomorrow; that is why it is a shark fin,” says Lobykin. “But at SAP, it is all about sharks, or whatever people see.”

Searching for the basic elements required to create complex form, Lobykin is experimenting with reflections and form in a massive conceptual piece called Pixel. “I actually look at forms in a different way,” says Lobykin. “How does it start? Where does it meet the form itself? In music you have notes. If you are talking about visual arts, specifically a three-dimensional object, what is the ABC over there?” Lobykin imagines Pixel’s polished curve as an interactive sculpture, more than 30 feet tall, that would allow the viewer to see themselves reflected in the surface. “If you come close to it, you appear in a normal way. If you go far away, you disappear and become part of your surroundings.”

Such process requires a combination of technology and natural material. Computer renderings don’t give the full picture. His process can involve 3D printing, traditional bronze foundries, and chromium-plated bronze. But he can equally explore found objects, like beach stones, turning them over in his hands before knowing what his stone will become. “I just take the stone, look at it. What can be done with this? I wanted to see how you could balance something made by nature—keep the natural shape but at the same time work with man’s interference.” 

 

lobykin.com
Facebook: stonesculpt
Instagram: oleg_lobykin
Article originally appeared in Issue 12.1 “Discover”

SOLD OUT

Marie Cameron is a Los Gatos artist who usually works in oils and mixed media assemblage. However, during the pandemic, she has been embroidering silk rainbows onto vintage photographs. “2020 was really hard”, Cameron exclaims, and her typical work that focuses on the issues of environmental and social justice become too heavy for her, and a trip to the beach one cloudy day sparked her new series as she says a rainbow amidst the gray.

“I wanted something that was more hopeful and would fill me with a bit of joy,” she says, “I was really searching for that joy, and I thought, yeah, I need more rainbows in my life.”

Thinking about the rainbows, Cameron decided to sew silk threads into vintage photos to contrast the black and white images and the vibrancy colors of the threads.
Cameron explored various themes she was interested in that we all were experiencing through 2020. For example, environmental pieces that are phot of forests done during forest fires we had last summer. Or, a firefighter with a rainbow coming down on him as sort of a “thank you” or prayer. As well as images of nurses, people of different races; as Cameron explains, “I wanted these rainbows to act as kind of like a blessing. Kind of like a manifestation of joy.”

“For me, these rainbows symbolize not only hope and inclusivity but a connection with spirit. They seem to offer a momentary connection to the universe and our place in it as they open a door to our sense of awe and wonder.”

Cameron is now opening her studio doors to share this work “en masse” to the community to view and purchase, hoping that others will experience the healing she experienced in the making.

Art Exhibition by Marie Cameron
“Wall of Rainbows” Pop-up!
June 15 -19

@mariecameronstudio

mariecameronstudio.com

 

 

Color is abundant in artist Erika Gómez Henao’s work. Through the use of several artistic mediums, including painting, performance, and ceramics, the vibrancy of Gómez Henao’s work captures audience attention, while her choice in subject matter commands it. Born and raised in Colombia, Gómez Henao credits her love of color to the richness of both her culture and the area where she grew up.

As a child, Gómez Henao used artwork as a way to keep herself entertained, often spending her free time creating and performing. After high school, Gómez Henao moved to the United States, joining her mother in Philadelphia and enrolling in community college. Of the experience Gómez Henao says, “It was very difficult to adjust. I didn’t know much English—only what I had learned in high school, and we were a working-class family. My mom was working in a factory, and, I mean, I had a home and food, but I had to work.” Despite these difficulties, she acclimated, learning how to speak English and earning an associate’s degree in art and design. With experience in design, Photoshop, painting, and composition, Gómez Henao began to explore the field and worked to find her niche. Reminiscing on her journey, she says, “I started testing the waters, and I knew that this was it. It felt like my calling in a way.” Working for the Mural Arts program in Philadelphia, Gómez Henao began to meet people in the art community, including mentor Meg Saligman, who, upon seeing Gómez Henao’s work on a mural, recruited Gómez Henao and opened her up to more work.

However, with the lack of art commissions available during the 2008 economic crisis, Gómez Henao ultimately decided to return to school and continue her studies. Upon receiving a scholarship to attend the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Gómez Henao found herself in an environment that she felt lacked diversity and creative freedom. “I was like the only Hispanic out of 300 students. I experienced a lot of racism and a lot of uncomfortable situations. I was learning a lot though, and I was so passionate, especially about the human figure. I was learning about using all these colors that never even crossed my mind. It was amazing, all that I was learning. But I was unhappy,” Gómez Henao shares. Ultimately, she and her husband decided to move to California, where Gómez Henao transferred to the San Francisco Art Institute. Here, she flourished as she made lasting friendships, experienced the open, conceptual culture of her surroundings, and experimented with her own work. Once Gómez Henao graduated in 2015, she and her husband moved to San Jose, where she quickly made connections and began working at the San Jose Museum of Art, in addition to having her studio space in San Jose’s Local Color. About her life in San Jose, Gómez Henao says, “I’ve met so many incredible people. I feel super welcome here, and I really just love it. I just came back from back home—from Colombia—and I love it so much there, but I tell people that this feels
like home now.”

“I’ve had men come tell me that they’re intimidating. And, yeah, they’re kind of daring. Like, you know what? I’m not your subject to be looked at. There’s something challenging about them, and I’m definitely okay with that.” _Erika Gómez Henao

In terms of her work, Gómez Henao describes her art as an exploration of the sexualization of women in current consumerism, particularly in today’s social media culture. From her perspective as a female artist and a woman of color, she questions these often “shallow human connections” and the pervasive perception of women as fetishized objects. “I kind of stay away from the traditional, historical view of the nude female figure and what it meant, to be looked at, especially by men. My paintings are more…I don’t know. I’ve had men come tell me that they’re intimidating. And, yeah, they’re kind of daring. Like, you know what? I’m not your subject to be looked at. There’s something challenging about them, and I’m definitely okay with that,” she says laughing.

Gómez Henao explores these concepts through not only her painting and ceramic work but also through installations and performance pieces in which she uses bold colors, wigs, fabrics, and her own self-made props. Next month, Gómez Henao will be partaking in a group show, sharing paintings, a video, and a ceramic installation. The show, titled Raices y Alias, will focus on Latinx and Chicanx artists. 

Instagram: erika_gomez_henao

UPDATE:

Since our interview in 2018, Erika has become a certified Angelic and Crystal healing practitioner and an energy healer.

Instagram: angelic_ray_healing_practice

 

Article originally appeared in Issue 10.3 Perform  (Print SOLD OUT)

#58 – Maryela Perez – Visual Artist, DJ, and Curator for MACLA

Maryela originally came to San José after graduating from UC Santa Cruz. She was looking to gain experience and develop a resume to become an urban planner. Through AmeriCorps and a program called Public Allies, she landed an internship with the Park and Recreation Department of San José. Once in the city, Maryela began to connect with the creative community, which led her to become a curator at MACLA.

 

In our conversion, Maryela explains how moving to Downtown San José and opening her home to artists and musicians changed her career path and exposed her to more artistic opportunities in the South Bay, including learning to DJ.

 

“It wasn’t with the intention of playing in front of folks, and even like being taught how to DJ was never with that intention, but it was really like I was propelled by the community itself.” _ Maryela Perez

 

Follow Maryela and tune into her Twitch channel every 2nd and 4th Thursday of the month at 7:00pm.

Instagram: mare.e.fresh and dearrrdj

Twitch: twitch.tv/velvetcloudradio and MACLA’s website: maclaarte.org

________________
This episode’s music in “Tang” by Chris Emond.
Follow Chris on Spotify, http://bit.ly/ChrisEmond Featured in issue 13.2 “Sight and Sound” 2021 

Like locking puzzle pieces, Scott and Shannon Guggenheim—or “Stannon” as they are fittingly known by their staff—are the producing entity and owners of 3Below, the new home of Guggenheim Entertainment since the closing of the Retro Dome, San Jose’s previous realm of movie and sing-along fun. At 3Below, expect top-quality surround sound as you view an indie film or enjoy a classic flick in the cozy Theater 2. Participate in a ComedySportz show or take an acting class in Theater 1. Sing along to The Rocky Horror Picture Show or see a play in Theater 3 for a family night out. No matter what you come for, your experience is curated by creators driven by the need to provide entertainment that promotes joy. 

You used to be the Retro Dome in West San Jose. How is this downtown location treating you? SHANNON: The audience we’ve grown in Saratoga hasn’t really followed us down here. I don’t know if they just haven’t caught on that there’s something family friendly out here to do. Usually, we announce Sound of Music and sell out a thousand seats in a weekend. We’re really trying to explain that we have this lovely little bubble you can just pull into. It’s tricky being a movie theater. With other businesses—restaurants, salons—you see the hustle and bustle of activity through the front windows. When we’re busy, everybody’s in here. SCOTT: We’re a safe place, too. Here, we have validated parking. You can just park in our garage, walk downstairs; it’s lit, there’s security in the building, and afterward you can walk right back out to your car. 

How have you applied your artistic backgrounds to the challenges you face every day as a business? SHANNON: If there’s any testament to art’s importance in schools, it’s that when you learn anything relative to being a performer, you immediately have a skillset you can take with you your entire life. You can’t be in a show without multitasking: you need to be a good communicator, understand conflict resolution and give-and-take. Being tenacious and not wanting to give up are the traits of a performer. Who but a performer will subject themselves to rejection after rejection? 

One of our bread and butter concepts throughout the ‘90s was doing kids club programming for shopping centers. We had fashion shows with jeans that the kids in the audience decorated; we did Retail Star, a competition to see which storefront was going to be occupied by a new tenant.

That was all well and good, frankly, until 9/11 happened. As the climate changed in America relative to what your third place could be, people didn’t feel safe in those environments the way they did the day before. So marketing managers in shopping centers completely changed their focus. They weren’t hosting events or fun things for crowds anymore. All that money was re-allocated to security. So we had to adapt really quickly.

SCOTT: For seven or eight years, we exclusively did the Christmas rollouts at Stanford and Bay Street in Emeryville, at Montgomery Village, and Pier 39. So when you see elves or soldiers or bands performing or carolers out there, most of the time it’s us doing that. SHANNON: There were definitely things you did because they paid the bills, and there were things you did for your artist soul. Very often our Christmas events were paying for the Hanukkah show we wrote. As that trend changed, we had to find other ways to survive. Our synagogue employed us to create a theatrical program for their school or synagogue. That let us keep paying the bills, while enjoying some aspect of our own selves. 

Not everyone gets to start a theater company with their best friend and stay married for 30 years. Through all the co-writing and co-directing, marketing and administrative work, how have you managed to keep the family together? SCOTT: We’ve been very lucky in that we found each other when we were young. Shannon and I met doing children’s theater in the late ’80s. We ran a children’s theater for nearly a decade, and our exit from that was producing Schoolhouse Rock Live. We have the same sensibility. We’re both really good event planners. That’s probably our biggest strength. SHANNON: For everything I’m not good at, Scott is. And vice versa. We’re very lucky in that way. And we know each other’s weaknesses, too. It’s possible that having Ally in our life was a big reason for that. SCOTT: Our second-born, Ally, has been in and out of a hospital her whole life. She’s 100 percent dependent on us. SHANNON: With Ally’s severe disabilities, what’s the alternative? We can’t just say never mind, I’m not going to be the adult today. The strong get stronger, and the weak get weaker. Whatever you have in your life that’s already strong, it’s going to be crystallized as a result of having to get
through it. 

We’re here to create. It’s just some sort of knowledge that we’re here for a purpose. And if we have the opportunity in our lives to figure out what it is and go do it, well how lucky are we?

What do you want the South Bay to know about 3Below? SCOTT: If you want to come experience a show and know the quality of entertainment will be top bar, this is one thing I say because it’s true: both Shannon and I are director and choreographer, and we find the best way to get the best performance out of our actors. My brother Stephen is able to find the means to get the best vocals from the performers as well. SHANNON: We love the idea of having creative control over everything, but we would love a couple other people to share this with. People are moving away because they can’t afford to live here. It’s been hard to cast actors, fill slots behind cash registers, or find set builders. Every industry that supports what we’re creating seems to have ebbed off as far as abundance of talent. We’re talking to other theaters, the opera, and symphony—and they agree; it’s just really lean out there. We’re all using the same wig mistress. Our designers are fantastic, but we’re afraid we’ll lose them. 

If people don’t support the arts, they will go away. You can’t let the convenience of insular entertainment change you completely. No filmmaker ever said, “I can’t wait for you to see it on this little screen!” They want you to see it on a massive screen with great sound with other people. Technology makes what we do even better, but if you let it bleed you of any enjoyment found in other ways, those ways won’t exist. 

Through all the turmoil we experience in our news, why are you rebuilding? When you’re done rebuilding, then what are you going to do? Just because we can get to the moon, what are we going to do when we get there? SCOTT: We create new programming to keep us going, but also to make sure we’re meeting our basic needs of building better people, creating a better world. We choose things that promote joy. 

 

3Below
288 South Second Street
San Jose, CA 

3belowtheaters.com

Social Media
3belowtheaters

Article originally appeared in Issue 11.0 Discover  (Print SOLD OUT)

John Warnock and Chuck Geschke met at Xerox’s Palo Alto Research Center (Xerox PARC) in the late ’70s but left to form Adobe when they could not convince Xerox executives of the potential market value in developing a printing language that would generate quality fonts and graphics on any printer. The decision to launch their own company has led the revolutionary direction of computer graphics and shaped the publishing and creative communications industries. The influence and effect that these two humble computer engineers and scientists have had is a testimony to their vision, character, and partnership.

 

Content Magazine: Your first day with Adobe, what was that like? 

John Warnock: We didn’t have an office, the first day we started Adobe. We worked out of our houses for a while. We had a computer that we could dial into, and so we started that way.

Chuck Geschke: You know, it’s interesting, there we were, the two of us in this building. You sort of felt like you should shout down the hall, “So, you still there?” Then we began to hire people, so within a couple of months, it at least felt like we were a team of people engaged in working on what was our initial business plan and idea, which of course changed within our very first year in business.

 

“I’ve always told our employees who want to rise in management, just go out and hire people who are incredibly smart. Smarter than you are, it’s a bigger population from which to choose.”
—Chuck Geschke

What was the original plan?

CG: The original idea that got us our funding was to build a complete turnkey publishing system for marketing inside the Fortune 500, so they could bring a lot of their creative work and their print production in-house.

We were going to build and bring together computers, laser printers, and plate-making equipment, along with all of the software to go into complete production. One of the key ingredients of that was our technology called PostScript, which is a higher level language for describing the appearance of a printed page. 

JW: At that time there weren’t PCs broadly available. The workstations at the time were made by Sun Microsystems and Digital Equipment. Those workstations were what people developed software for. The PCs were really very small, just starting to come out, so they weren’t a factor. There were companies like TechSAT and Interleaf that were also building publishing software. There were about five or six competitive companies in the space that we thought we were going into. CG: So shortly after we got into business, one of my professors from Carnegie Mellon who had since left and gone to work for Digital Equipment, Gordon Bell, came by to see what we were doing.

He looked at it, and he said, “Wow that’s interesting. But I don’t need computers, I’m Digital Equipment. And I got a deal with Ricoh in Japan for this laser printer, so I don’t need that, but my problem is they’ve got two or three development teams trying to figure out how to get the computers to talk to the printers in such a way that they can produce the kind of output we want, and they’re not getting anywhere. I see you’re starting to work on the key software that would make that possible. Why don’t you just sell me that software?”

We said, “Well, you know we have this business plan, and it raised two and a half million dollars for us, and we think that’s what we need to do, so we’re going to continue doing it.” He said, “Well if you change your mind, call me.”

JW: About four months in, we got a call from Steve Jobs. Steve had been hiring people away from Xerox PARC, and they were people that we both knew. He said, “I would love to come see you guys and see what you’re doing.”

At that time, that was the beginning of the development of the Mac. First the Lisa was developed, and then the Macintosh. But at that stage he was mostly interested in the Macintosh platform. His problem was, what they could see on the little bitmap screen they could print on a wire-matrix printer—which was horrible. I think he sensed that that was not an ultimate printing solution. 

He saw what we were doing, and the people who worked for him knew what we were doing, and so he became very enthusiastic about this software we were developing, which was PostScript.

CG: The first thing he said was, “Why don’t you sell me your company, and come work for me?” We said, “Well, you know, Steve, we really want to build our own business.” He said, “Oh, well, OK, I can understand that. So, how about selling me that software? Because the team I have trying to figure out how to get the computer, the Macintosh, to talk to this laser printer, which I’ve already got a deal for with Canon, aren’t getting anywhere.”

And we said, “Well, you know we have this business plan, Steve. That’s what we think we need to do.” He said, “Well, I think you’re nuts.” So then John and I went to talk to the guy who was chairman of our board, that Bill Hamburg had put in as chairman. We explained to him these conversations we were having. And he said, “Those people are right, you’re nuts. Now you know what your business plan is, go do it.”

When you began Adobe, were you already thinking in terms of adjusting based on market need? Is adapting just part of your personalities?

JW: I think we were flexible. Both of us had a very deep background in technology. What you’re trying to look for is markets and customers. Steve wanted to invest in the company, which he did. The strongest part of our software was the PostScript software. We would have had to develop the rest of the software from scratch, and that was going to take a lot of time and a lot of effort, and since we had ready customers both in Digital Equipment and in Apple, I think that’s what guided us in the direction we went.

CG: You do ask a good question though, “Did we originally think about the fact that we should be building something that was unique and different?” Of course, that’s instinctive to want to do that, but when we got the first check from Bill Hamburg and we were driving home from San Francisco, I asked John, I said, “John, did you ever take a business course?” And he said, “No.” And I said, “Well I haven’t either.”

So we looked at each other and I said, “I think we should stop at Kepler’s and get a book on business.” We did, and there was a chapter in that book called “market gap analysis.”

What it said was, if you want to start a successful business, find a place that isn’t being served, come up with a brand new solution, get it into the market, and by definition you have a hundred percent market share, and shame on you if you can’t keep it. That’s actually pretty much always been our philosophy.

JW: PostScript became a very successful product. It became the standard, and it was saturating the company’s resources, to just keep up with the number of corporations we had to build printer software for. But it was also obvious that you never want to be a one-product company. And so we first started with typefaces for the PostScript printers, but we had worked with drawing programs at Xerox PARC, and thought there was a natural way to map the way that PostScript fundamentally worked with a user interface, and that became Illustrator.

 

“You don’t have to be ruthless to be a successful business person. You can be understanding, you can be compassionate, you can have all those qualities that make you a good person.”
—John Warnock

You’ve been in partnership for…?

CG: 37 years.

Thirty-seven, which is longer than some marriages.

JW: Probably most.

CG:  Except ours.

JW: Chuck and I have a huge amount in common. We have the same number of children, roughly the same ages, roughly the same educational backgrounds in mathematics and in engineering. We both refereed and coached soccer. We’ve been married roughly the same number of years to our wives. We’ve never had an argument, in the 37 years.

Never?

JW: Never.

CG: Never parted company at the end of a work day in anger.

JW: I think our personalities mesh very well. We both have a sense of responsibility to the communities, to the customers, to our stockholders, to our employees. We take very, very seriously the balance that we have for the constituencies of the company.

And I think we both work—with each other and with others—as teams. I don’t think we’re dictatorial in any way. I don’t think we try to micromanage people.

John, how has Chuck balanced out your skill set?

JW: I think we’re great sounding boards for each other, and are both technically very competent. What more do you need? [laughs]

Chuck, what about John? How do you think he has balanced out your skill set?

CG: I think the uniqueness of John is built around his inventiveness, and thinking of things that other people have not thought of before, in terms of what can be done with technology. I’ve always greatly admired that skill.

I think in terms of implementing ideas, we’re very comparable in that regard. I ended up doing a lot more of the negotiating and contract work, particularly in the beginning with PostScript to close deals all over the world that would allow us to make that a universal standard.

John, on the other hand, was the person who really kept focus on what the company needed to do to continue to expand its markets. The thing I found most comforting about our partnership was whenever we needed to do something outside of business—deal with something in our family, or just take a break—we had a hundred percent confidence that the other person would do and make the right decisions. That gave us great freedom. It allowed us to explore and to do things that wouldn’t have been possible if we hadn’t had that confidence in each other.

When you acquired Photoshop, there wasn’t any digital photography [laughs]. You had to see into the future of technology. Even with the cloud, you were one of the first companies to move all your software exclusively to be a download. What led you to innovate?

JW: There was no such thing as illustration programs. There were programs back at Xerox PARC that started to do that kind of thing, but they were never commercially available.

I think, as Chuck said, you’re looking for gaps. You’re looking for problems that have no solution. It was so funny, when we went out on one of our first road trips, the investors said, “Well, how big is the market?” We were puzzled by that, because there was no market. We were in fact creating the technology to create a whole brand new market, and they didn’t understand that and we didn’t understand their question. It was sort of a humorous thing to think about ideas and uses of technology where you’re entering a completely void space.

CG: I think the thing that never concerned us about how big this opportunity was, what we were beginning to understand was, that all visual information was going to transform itself from physical media and distribution to electronic.

If you look at the size of that industry—printing, publishing, entertainment, the whole paper flow business—those are huge. We never felt like we would be constrained by the market opportunity, only by our own ability to invent fast enough to be the first product into that market so that we in fact could have significant market share from the very beginning.

How would you describe yourselves? What are your natural passions?

CG: When I think about myself, first of all, as I already mentioned, no formal training in aspects of business. Throughout my life I’ve been a teacher, I’ve been an engineer, developing things, and I’ve always worked with teams of people. 

I think one of my strengths is that I understand what makes a team work. I instinctively believe in people and their ability to do more than they think they can. I really have no fear, never had any fear, of hiring someone who is brighter than I am. I hired him [pointing to John] at Xerox PARC, and I’ve always told our employees who want to rise in management, just go out and hire people who are incredibly smart. Smarter than you are, it’s a bigger population from which to choose. If you do that, eventually there will be nothing for you to do but move up the ladder of the chain of management.

John and I decided early on that we were not going to write elaborate manuals of behavior of what it meant to be an employee at Adobe… The trick is to balance what’s good for each of [your constituencies] in such a way that everyone feels like they’re being well-served. The core principle is you always treat any of those people, including your fellow employees, the way you would want to be treated. And if you do that, you’ll succeed.

JW: In my hobbies, I’m a photographer. I do a lot of drawing and painting, I’m primarily a visual person. It’s funny, it’s a funny balance between mathematics and that visual left-brain / right-brain connection.

The internet today is the perfect communication vehicle, when you want to know something. All my children and grandchildren, they pick up their phones and do the appropriate search, and find out the answer to almost any question you’d want to ask. I think that in some sense amplifies the progress of the society in what you can achieve. In the past, you had to really do research in libraries and go the hard way to find out information. Now information is flowing very freely. And building the tools that allow that to happen, that allow people to communicate in a frictionless way, is what it’s all about.

What would you say, then, is your guiding philosophy?

JW: I think it’s exactly what Chuck said, you treat people the way you would like to be treated. You don’t have to be ruthless to be a successful business person. You can be understanding, you can be compassionate, you can have all those qualities that make you a good person.

CG: I think oftentimes people view two guys who go into business and have the good fortune that we did to be very successful as—they did it for money. But we’re both engineers, and what motivates an engineer is to build something that millions of people will use. We achieved that dream.

JW: It’s not money. 

CG: And the money is wonderful, you know, I wouldn’t throw it away. But frankly, I would prefer to take that money and do more things to help other people than use it myself.

What drives your passion, outside of business?

CG: The things that I tend to focus on, are really my family. We’re blessed with seven grandchildren, all the way from second grade to college. Spending time and working with them is part of my passion.

My wife and I have always loved travel, we’ve had a long bucket list of places we wanted to go, many of which we’ve already been to, but we still have some more. We’re going to the Arctic. We’re going to take the whole family on safari next summer. Things of that kind are passions of mine.

[And then the other thing] is to focus on some nonprofits that really make a difference in their community. I just finished a project with a good friend of mine on Nantucket Island, rebuilding the entire Boys & Girls Club, because it’s so critical to the survival of that island. It’s things like that that I spend most of my time on.

Of course, I do think a lot about Adobe, and its business, and where it’s headed, but over time I’ve diversified.

JW: I’ve always been fascinated with the media business. I’m on the board of Sundance. I’m chairman of an online magazine called Salon. I was on the Knight-Ridder board in the newspaper business. I love tracking the media business. 

As you see the growth of the internet, and the transitioning out of old media into new media, you see a huge shift in the dynamics of advertising, communication, and how all of that works. Watching the way television and streaming media is changing people’s fundamental behavior, I find fascinating. I’m a student, when I think professionally, of media, and how it works, and how it’s changing. I think the most important thing is how it’s changing, and what the implications are of that to everybody’s life.

Is there anything else you would like to share?

JW: It’s been a hell of a run. [laughs]

CG: We’re the two luckiest guys on Earth.

Full article originally appeared in Issue 8.0 Explore.
Print Version Sold Out

 

Robert Ragazza seems to know everyone. He greets every patron and server at the small coffee shop downtown with a smile, perhaps a carry-over from his full-time position as the award-winning concierge at the Hotel Sainte Claire in San Jose. He does know everyone, certainly in the city’s small but incredibly self-reliant art scene. He rattles off a who’s who of artists and patrons, proud to be a part of this pool of talent and vision.

But Robert Ragazza really knows everyone. He knows the guy sitting outside with his dogs, hoping for spare change. He knows the man wrapped in blankets who stands on the corner of Santa Clara and First Street. He knows the woman camped out not far from his work, who always flashes him a mega-watt smile. These are all people that he encounters regularly, and while others bustle past, Ragazza captures them in striking black and white photographs. 

As he browses through his portfolio of portraits, he tells the stories of his subjects, how he managed to convince them to pose for him, or whether they were eager to volunteer. It took two years of friendship for the man wrapped in blankets to agree to pose. The relationship was based on trust and whether he believed Ragazza would look through the viewfinder and see his dignity. 

Ragazza knows precisely where each photo was taken, the exact street corner or bus, mapping out the city’s humanity through his compassionate artistic eye. The portraits are deep, almost textured and layered, as the richness of the black, white, and shades of grey and light reveal stories of sorrow, pain, hope, and life. 

While Ragazza himself is young and stylish, he is a traditional, even old-fashioned, photographer. With the exception of a few iPhone photos, he shoots exclusively on film and shudders at the thought of using Photoshop. Averse to cropping, he lines up each shot in the viewfinder so that when he develops the photos, they come out exactly as he had seen them in the moment. He is patient, limiting himself to only a few frames per subject, knowing that more than five frames feels invasive. His compositional eye is practiced, as he finds the most interesting lighting and sharp contrasts. “You have to wait for the right moment,” he explains. “It’s how you know you’re in sync with the world.” He describes a magical moment in a natural setting when everything falls into place. The results are a testament to his method and skill, each photo meticulous yet with the feel of spontaneity. 

He sees his photos as part of a larger series and story. While every shot carries its own weight, he arranges them so that each one plays a role in a larger context. His street portraits could almost be viewed as social documentary, recording everyday scenes and the humanity that makes them exceptional. His photos reflect the souls of those who make up the fabric of the city: weary on the bus, joyful with a grandchild, proud, compassionate, serious with a threatening tattoo, often hopeful but sometimes hopeless. Ragazza captures these moments that become timeless representations of the people he comes to know.

Ragazza would have every reason not to seek out those wearing “death” tattooed across their necks, or subjects on the bus who later join gangs and disappear from his radar. While a student in Los Angeles, Ragazza was the innocent victim of a gang-initiation drive-by shooting, an event that forever changed the course of his life. The bullet wound healed, but seems to have given him a deep sensitivity to the desperate side of life. His experience with senseless brutality makes the human images reflected in his viewfinder all the more poignant. While he still jumps when he hears fireworks, he took the incident in stride, finding the positive, and moving forward with new perspective. “That’s what life is,” he says with a thoughtful smile. 

Today, he and his close-knit community of artists and supporters work together to be the city’s cultural heartbeat. Ragazza is a collector himself, identifying and fostering young talent, purchasing pieces when he can. When his resources are stretched, his own patrons step in, bartering the special printing paper he needs in exchange for a photograph. Ragazza’s works can go for top dollar, but they are an investment, not only in his talent and skill, but in his deep, complex portrait of life in San Jose. As he says, his work “is all about dignity and civility,” which is a real gift to this city and all who know him. 

 

thememoirist.format.com

instagram: thememoirist

Article originally appeared in Issue 7.1 Sight and Sound  (Print SOLD OUT)

At his show “Almost Famous,” held at Cukui last March [Article orginally from 2017], Jay Aguilar completely covered the single wall he was given with his photography. From nearly floor to ceiling, each meticulously placed, independently developed square shot portrayed various local scenesters and musicians. The sheer volume of his work was overwhelming, but what made the evening extra special was how each portrait brought back memories of the many shows he had memorialized on film.

Aguilar never expected that people would notice what he was doing, much less invite him to display his work, which he has done at Curate Good in San Jose and SoundCloud headquarters in San Francisco. His approach—capturing his favorite artists in informally posed snapshots—didn’t arise from a master plan. Over time, he’s simply taken on the role of cultural archivist, photographing the many musicians, DJs, and passionate supporters who visit the Bay Area. He wanted to prove that culture does exist here, even if some would witness it only the morning after on social media.

“I want people to know that this format of film is still alive…” _Jay Aguilar

It’s crazy to think that all of Aguilar’s photos, in theory, might never have happened. He’s reminded of that every time he stares at the hundreds of portraits he’s taken over the years. Each one serves as a reminder of what he accomplished by taking a chance. “I just think ’You’ve got to get out there and do your thing,’ ” reflects Aguilar, who’s earned the name “Polaroid Jay” for his choice to shoot exclusively with Polaroid cameras. “You’ve got to take a risk. You might miss, but you might get it, so just go for it.”

When Run the Jewels recently played the City National Civic in downtown San Jose, Aguilar and his brother waited outside in the rain for over an hour for two portraits. A handful of fans still stood alongside him, but most had trickled away, lulled to bed and wary of the raindrops. As security turned over, one guard told them there was no chance the group was coming out. In a case like that, experience told Aguilar otherwise. “I knew that they hadn’t exited the venue,” he says. “I pay attention to the details.” He could see the tour bus sitting right outside the only exit. Sure enough, Killer Mike and El-P eventually appeared. Killer Mike even gave him a hug.

Aguilar is exceptionally good at waiting, because in his craft, patience and perseverance often lead to results. As long as he hasn’t witnessed the getaway, there’s still a chance he’ll get his shot.

Why wait for an interaction that will last no more than a minute? “It’s an adrenaline rush,” he says. “There’s nothing that can compare to it.” Whenever Aguilar heads out with one of his cameras, he’s bound to experience an emotional journey—the anxiety of waiting to get the shot, the uncertainty of meeting the artist, the joy and relief of capturing the portrait. There are no guarantees when it comes to artists or to instant photography.

Growing up, Aguilar was always fascinated with Polaroid cameras. He remembers the ads starring celebrities on TV, but never asked for one because they were too costly. He finally asked anyway in 2004, and his dad bought him a camera and four packs of film. He began shooting regularly in 2009 after he picked up an SX-70 with auto-focus from a coworker. Soon, he was scouring thrift stores for any model he could find and searching for deals on expired film on eBay. At one point, his collection included 40 cameras. It has since been whittled down to around 25, with six in regular working rotation. “I want people to know that this format of film is still alive, that you can go out and buy it and do it yourself,” he says.

After he lost his girlfriend, his photo crew, and his job in 2013, Aguilar began to pursue his craft with renewed focus. Capturing show portraits became his refuge, his therapy. “I didn’t think it would lead to super awesome stuff, but it did,” he says. “I feel like I’m in a better place now than I was when all that stuff happened.” He has since cultivated a following of over 4,500 followers on Instagram, and an online archive of more than 4,000 photos.

But Aguilar, as cultural archivist Polaroid Jay, has not just helped renew interest in instant photography, he has also created a link to the past. When thinking about the countless memories a single photo can evoke, he is reminded of times when his mom would ask if he remembered something and he would have no recollection until she produced a photo. Instantly, he’d be transported back to that moment. His own photography now provides that same refresher for an entire community. It also provides a tangible photo trail of timeless mementos in an increasingly digitized world.

Article originally appeared in Issue 9.2 Sight and Sound  (Print SOLD OUT)

To understand the approach and philosophy of BAMN—By Any Media Necessary—it may be best to start with a music video. Opening with a crowd shot of eager performers ready to audition for America’s Got Vocals, “I L*** You” establishes a spoof world akin to American Idol and America’s Got Talent, with Andrew Bigs at the forefront of the story. The judges mock Bigs before he launches into his song, a confrontational affirmation of self-love. He soon turns the tables, flipping off the very people who could, in this alternate reality, send him to Hollywood. During the video’s crescendo, dismissed contestants infiltrate the room, taking back their inspiration and creativity from the judges, established in shows like these as gatekeepers of opportunity.

Beneath the light-hearted narrative frame, there lies the distinct punk-rock ethos of urging viewers to “do it yourself,” despite what supposed gatekeepers may say. The storyline mirrors the way BAMN’s core unit of creative partners feel about their own road to success. Self-described underdogs of the scene, BAMN strives to share compelling stories that inspire community pride. That inspirational, and at times political, message stretches across several forms of media.

Andrew Bigs explains that BAMN rose out of a need to find a working solution to the conundrum of the creative artist—work diligently in your off-time to pursue your dream, or quit your job and grind to make your dream a reality, without going broke. That working solution was to create an infrastructure that would allow them to sustain and fund themselves. “To be independent is to be free,” Bigs says, “and you have to build the team in order to do it.”

That’s the challenge BAMN’s seven-member team took on when they left their day jobs to make their collective passion their livelihood. Though the company has been up and running for a year and a half, its conception came from a series of chats among local artists, videographers, and community leaders at Eastside shop Coffee Lovers four years ago. The crew began to blossom in earnest in 2015 when these disparate voices reunited to help Bigs create his video for “Dollaz.” The project clicked into place. “We were just trying to figure out what we could do for the city of San Jose,” recalls Marlo Custodio, videographer and BAMN’s creative director. “There were not enough stories being told, and not enough unity within our generation in terms of the content and stories we wanted to tell.”

 

“There were not enough stories being told, and not enough unity within our generation in terms of the content and stories we wanted to tell.” 

_Marlo Custodio

 BAMN has struggled with viewers grasping the full scope of its output, projects spanning music videos, artist releases, video skits and short films, and immersive themed events like Open Pad Party (OPP). The event rollout for OPP incorporated a series of skits that established characters who extended the concept of the event, including an antagonist who was ceremoniously booed during the show. In line with their mission, this multifaceted approach came from a desire to throw a rap show with a brand new spin. “Some people see us only as entertainment because they see our events or music videos,” says Phillip Du, a former designer at Microsoft who generates much of BAMN’s branding and messaging. BAMN, however, pushes the boundaries. “We’re always trying to find new ways to do what we love,” Du says. 

Back when they operated under a four-quarter format akin to a record label, complete with an artist roster of in-house producers and rappers, the team called themselves an entertainment company. They now prefer “new age content studio,” which better portrays their desire to craft engaging narratives through various forms of media and to leverage social media messaging to maximize their reach. 

BAMN has also recently extended that reach into new markets. Through its sister agency, NEEBA, BAMN’s creative core focuses on delivering engaging content to Fortune 500 clients. As NEEBA, the team has worked with clients like Intel, ASUS, and the Vernon Davis Foundation, once more pushing their own boundaries. Telling stories now for a whole new audience. 

BAMN’s core is similarly fluid when it comes to roles. Bigs may be most visible as an artist, but he also works behind the scenes. “I could go from recording to being an assistant director or emailing people we’re partnering with,” he notes. “We’re all capable of more than just one thing, and we utilize ourselves in that way.” That team-minded approach is a centerpiece of their working philosophy.

Also at the center is respect. Though they’re the creative team on a wide range of projects, functioning together tightly as a unit, the core members of BAMN are partners, Custodio notes, each with their own brand identity. As BAMN, they thrive collectively, individually. Artists, partners, teammates, brothers.

 

Article orogoanll apperar in issue 9.2 “Sight and Sound” 2017

For current information and video prodcution details contact Marlo Custodio

Director / Founder – @directormarlo 

 

________________

Contact information as appeared in 2017 article.

bamnsquad.com

https://www.instagram.com/directormarlo/

https://www.instagram.com/bamn.films/

instagram: bamnsquadent

Cinematographer / Editor  – @ryan.engosling

Cinematographer – @stayamplified

Actor / Artist / Writer – @heisandrewbigs

Design / Visual Expert – @phillipdu

Artist / Producer – @BeatsbyFly

Article originally appeared in Issue 9.2 Sight and Sound  (Print SOLD OUT)

Since childhood, Aaron Schwartz has never stayed in one place very long, and over the years, that traveling spirit has carried him, sometimes on a whim, to places as far-flung as New York and Israel. Wanderlust is in his bones, but his one constant has been music—making it, sharing it,
celebrating it.

Schwartz, known by the stage name DirtyBeats, jokes that being born in Miami meant he was destined to love bass. In his early years, he moved back and forth from the North Bay to Boulder, Colorado, always emphasizing music in his life. “My mom always forced me to take some type of musical instrument class. It stuck with me,” he shares. Strangely enough, his mom is also the one who introduced him to electronic music. After returning from a trip to India in the late ’80s, she encouraged him to listen to a new type of music she had heard called acid house. It wasn’t until the mid-1990s, when electronic music was becoming more of an underground force stateside, that those sounds truly grabbed ahold of Schwartz. 

“High school is when I got into electronic music kind of hardcore, just going out and partying more. I started going to a lot more raves then,” he explains. Acid house may have been his entry point, but drum and bass was where he found love. His stage name, DirtyBeats, for instance, is an homage to a Roni Size track; Goldie and the Metalheadz crew remain an obsession, and it has long been his dream to sign to that label.

“A lot of electronic music is creating loops then breaking them apart and arranging them. Usually, I’ll hear something. I won’t know what I’m doing half the time. That’s kind of what the art of it is.” –Aaron Schwartz

At 16, he had his first shot on the decks, jumping on at an after party. “I know I didn’t sound good,” he laughs when thinking back. “When I started buying records, I didn’t understand sorting through and mixing by beats per minute, so I know it sounded jumbled.” Early on, his mom’s friends tried to start him off on slower music, but he insisted on mixing breakneck breakbeats, often moving at 160 beats per minute—an insanely fast and precise task to transition into for a beginner. However he did pick it up in time and, at the age of 18, won a DJ competition put on by San Rafael music shop Bananas at Large, which earned him a free mixer.

His fascination with manipulating sound led him to study audio engineering at SF State. That experience also helped him discover that anything 

he encountered could serve as source material for his music. Schwartz got into the habit of capturing everyday sounds with his field recorder, bringing the device along with him to capture a busy restaurant at night or the metallic clang of the light rail slowly chugging through the streets of
downtown San Jose.

“A lot of electronic music is creating loops then breaking them apart and arranging them. Usually, I’ll hear something. I won’t know what I’m doing half the time. That’s kind of what the art of it is.” A spark may come from one of the files in his huge sound library—a cache that’s crashed his computer on more than one occasion.

Take the title track from his Anubis EP, released in May 2017 through Dubstep SF. A phased-out Muslim call to prayer, recorded on his phone during his time in Israel, slowly builds to a drop that reveals a floating flute melody slinking in between metallic yelps and scratchy swoops, all underscored by sub-bass moving at dubstep’s signature half-time pace. It highlights his point perfectly: electronic music can build from practically anything to create an evocative mélange. Last year also welcomed the release of a more drum-and-bass focused effort, the Preon EP, through Bass Star Records.

After some hiccups and uncertainty, he recently received some good news: he’s back onboard with 50/50 Global EDM, a label associated with Sony Music. He’ll be rolling out three singles this year through their imprint: “Bring the Hype,” “Lahav,” and “The Giants.” Keeping in line with his established sound, the songs will feature elements of dubstep, drum and bass, and grime.

“Part of me feels like when I do more production, the better events will come—festivals and that kind of stuff,” he states of his hopes for 2018. 

 

soundcloud.com/dirtybeatsss

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dirtybeatsfanpage

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deeplegends and therealdirtybeats

Twitter
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Article originally appeared in issue 10.2 “Sight and Sound 2018

SOLD OUT

 

#50 – Brendan Rawson – Executive Director San Jose Jazz

 

“I sure hope that we keep growing a local culture scene that keeps presenting opportunities to folks to find their area that they’re able to grow themselves and contribute.”

South Bay native Brendan Rawson has worked in the local arts scene for more than twenty years. Since joining San Jose Jazz (SJZ) in 2012, Brendan has worked to increase their education programs’ impact and conceived many of their most successful initiatives, including Jazz Beyond programming and the mobile Boombox Truck stage.

Brendan is a long-time community supporter — a dedication sparked while he was working as a barback at the infamous Ajax Lounge in Downtown San Jose. That passion and experience set him on a path to not only become the executive director of SJZ but also to serve on the boards of various arts organizations, including San José Arts Advocates.

Find out more about Brendan San Jose Jazz at SanJoseJazz.org and SanJoseArtsAdvocates.org 

Music for this episode is “Time Alone” by Mild Monk.
Follow him at:
IG: @MildMonkMusic
Spotify: Mild Monk 
Read interview with Mild Monk in issue 12.0 

 

Although a visual artist now, Matthew Heimgartner was initially drawn to the creative world through storytelling. Writing stories throughout his childhood in San Jose and adding doodles in the margins, it wasn’t until 2017 that he made what he considers the official switch—that is, showing his artwork publicly. Thankfully so, as Heimgartner’s work is expressive, vibrant, and intimate—so intimate, in fact, it almost feels as if his art is only accidentally seen by the public eye. Working in a mixture of pen, pencil, and watercolor, Heimgartner’s surrealist influences are apparent but not overwhelming. By finding a careful balance between absurd and defined, his art exudes a raw emotion that is hard to ignore and even harder to forget.

“I want people to look at my art and feel like they have had a conversation with me. My art is very personal, because I have a hard time being personable. I feel like I have lived so many different lives in my 28 years, and I have a hard time jumping between those lives and reconnecting with the people that were once really close to me. I feel like I can talk about and express that in my art, and people will understand the feelings that I feel, but the viewer gets to add their own connotation of that feeling.” 

 

matthewheimgartner.com
Instagram: fabulousmatty

 

 

Orginally appear in issue 11.4 “Profiles” 2019

SOLD OUT

 

 

If you want to visit a real-life Moe’s Tavern, visit the Caravan Lounge, San Jose’s grand dive bar. You won’t see Homer Simpson or Barney, but Jägermeister is on tap and on Wednesday nights you’ll meet Ato Walker, who hosts its weekly comedy show.

Walker, 36, is a professional comedian, dad to three-year-old Atlizel, and a volunteer at Sacred Heart Community Services’ La Mesa Verde, where he helps families in need access healthy food.

He calls himself “Mr. Walker.” He started out hosting comedy nights at San Jose’s Britannia Arms and now performs at the Ice House, San Jose Improv, Laughs Unlimited, Rooster T. Feathers, and the Caravan Lounge. He’s also emceed Music in the Park and the San Jose Jazz Festival.

Raised in Pasadena, as a child actor he appeared in NBC’s Shannon’s Deal and in Nike and Pepsi commercials. He came to San Jose after high school to work for City Year Americorps and stayed on working for nonprofits and doing comedy.

San Francisco is known as a comedy city, famous for Robin Williams, Whoopi Goldberg, Margaret Cho, and Ellen DeGeneres. Is San Jose a comedy city?
San Jose definitely has its own scene but I think what differentiates us is that the audiences here like smart comedy, but they also like dirty stuff. It’s kind of a weird dynamic. Whereas in San Francisco you have to be smart and quippy and avant-garde because San Francisco comedy is very “hipstery.” I think there’s more of a sense of fun in San Jose comedy. There’s more of a sense of “anything goes.” We push boundaries and audiences here like that.   

Do you have a favorite joke?
Why is six afraid of seven? Because seven eight nine. [Laughs]

What makes good comedy?
Successful comedians really try to connect the audience with their personal stories or something that they’re really passionate about, even if it’s something terrible. It started with Richard Pryor. He was the innovator of telling it like it is and telling it from your perspective. A lot of comics mimic that. I think it’s successful because it’s the most honest. It transcends gender, race, and politics, and people understand what you’re saying. You tell your truth in a funny way and people love it.

A theme you work with is your experience being black in liberal Silicon Valley, is that accurate? Is there a better way to say it?
That’s very accurate. I am a black person. I am a male. I think I identify as a feminist, as having different views toward relationships. I’m struggling with all of that stuff, but I struggle with it openly as a comic.

There are comedians who have achieved greatness using material that made their white audiences feel uncomfortable: Mort Saul, Richard Pryor, Chris Rock, Dick Gregory, and W. Kamau Bell.
My whole thing is that white people have been making black people feel uncomfortable for six hundred years. It’s kind of funny that white folks laugh about themselves when we’re pointing out the ridiculous nature of their privilege. It also eats into you a little as a black man because you’re explaining to them “Hey, this needs to stop, it’s ridiculous,” and they’re like “Ha ha, we’re going to keep it going.” It’s disheartening.

The thing that comics have done throughout the ages is always question powerful people and always point out what’s really going on. Mark Twain is one of our greatest comedians and he was excellent at this!

That’s so profound. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was all about bigotry.
All about it! Read his short stories, they’re hilarious—and it’s because he questioned and poked and prodded the powers that be during his age. He was well liked, he was controversial, and all of the different things that come with being a public figure, and he was sought after because of his opinions.

 

“Successful comedians really try to connect the audience with their personal stories or something that they’re really passionate about, even if it’s something terrible… You tell your truth in a funny way and people love it.”

Mark Twain! He even wrote under a pseudonym. His name was Samuel Clemens and a lot of people really didn’t know who that dude was. He floated under the radar and made fun of everybody. You have to understand that a lot of comedians do that.

Comedy is this fluid, unpredictable, and challenging thing to do that’s super fun when you’re on your highest high. It’s hard to deal with when you don’t have a good set, but it gives the comic and the audience self-awareness, and we all learn from it.

 

Podcast interview with Ato at: CONTENT PODCAST

Article originally appeared in Issue 8.3 Show

As we finalize our annual “Sight and Sound” issue, featuring the South Bay’s visual and audio artists, I am watching the inauguration of our 46th president, cautiously hopeful for a new tone in our national dialogue. I also can’t help but reflect as we look to spring, when this issue arrives in your mailbox, that a year has passed under a cloud of COVID-19. These factors give me an unresolved range of feelings—relieved after four years of holding my breath politically and fatigued by the shelter-at-home, Zoom culture. Yet, I am reminded that the strength of all society and culture is in its people. Those who dream, create, and act. Obviously, that is why I lead a publication focused on profiling our community creatives, because they are life and hope. I have no idea what the state of the Union and the world will be when you read this, but I hope that the people you met in this issue provided you with sights and sounds that strengthen you, encourage you, and find you in a “space” of openness and health.

Thank you,

Daniel Garcia

THE CULTIVATOR

#46 Ato Walker – Humorist, host, and emcee

He calls himself “Mr. Walker.” He started out hosting comedy nights at San Jose’s Britannia Arms and now performs at the Ice House, San Jose Improv, Laughs Unlimited, Rooster T. Feathers, and the Caravan Lounge. He’s also emcee’ed Music in the Park and San Jose Jazz Festival stages.

In our conversation, Ato tells us about how he got into comedy, his first performance, and the role comedy plays in society, especially as a Black man in the US.

Follow on his instagram @mratowalker

Read more about him in our 2016 interview in issue 8.3 “Show.” 

Written by Diane Solomon 
Photography by Daniel Garcia 

Music for this episode is “Time Alone” by Mild Monk
Follow him at:
IG: @MildMonkMusic
Spotify: Mild Monk 
Read interview with Mild Monk in issue 12.0 

 

Print issue interview available on our website here.

Hailing from Monterey and San Jose, Rachel and the Soul Service deliver sparkling musical freshness—a groovy yet unprocessed blend of soul and R&B. The group’s tight chemistry is the clearest quality of their performance, resulting in a unity of sounds that comes across as fun, entertaining, and constantly innovating.

Rachel, how did you find your sound as a singer? Rachel Spung: Growing up, I played classical French horn for seven years. At 15 I started playing guitar. Then I started my own rock band in my hometown, Monterey. I was in that band for two to three years, and I always wrote for other
people to sing.

I feel like rock music is easiest to write and play when you’re just starting out. Eventually, I wasn’t into writing rock music anymore. I’d always been influenced by soul and R&B music. 

How did this group get started? Brandon Earley: After her band broke up, we started writing, just the two of us. Alonso Sanchez: My other group had a last minute gig, and we needed an opening band. I met Rachel through a mutual friend, but she needed a bass player, so I decided I’d be the bass. Then I brought in Daniel because we’re both in the SJSU jazz program. RS: In the beginning, I’d ask Alonso, “What connections do you have?” I didn’t have any in San Jose. And here in San Jose there’s a lot more openness for younger-generation musicians. AS: I had another group prior and knew a lot of places to play. Eventually, I emailed the Come Up and almost every gig in San Jose is thanks to them.

“That’s the jazz influence; I’m trying to sing it a new way each time, engage people differently. Make people think.
We care about that.” – Rachel Spung

What do you each bring to the sound of Rachel Spung and the Soul Service?  BE: I really like heavy music and lots of unison between guitar and bass. Sometimes we’ll be playing the same line, and it sounds really fat and thick. Then we split off. I like varying that in whatever way we can. Daniel Williams: I think the real keen listener will be able to hear our influences if they listen to the same kind of music. They’ll hear that melody quoted from this artist, that chord progression sounding like that song, or the way Rachel sings reminding them of their favorite singer. RS: What I appreciate about Daniel is when he came into the band, he brought out the genre of music I fell in love with on my own—hip-hop and rap, old-school G-funk, music out of
Long Beach. 

As a singer I listen to the drums a lot, because I want to be syncopating and deliver a certain cadence. I could be singing a pretty jazz melody, but I’m feeling the backbeat, the groove. DW: A bad musician doesn’t listen to the players they’re playing with. They’re off in their own world. Nothing clicks. But all four of us click. We all listen to
each other.

Describe your live performances. AS: Lots of energy. Rachel’s an amazing performer. All of us are, in our own right. RS: As a singer, I try to not let it get stagnant or let myself get used to it. That’s the jazz influence; I’m trying to sing it a new way each time, engage people differently. Make people think. We care about that. BE: It’s cool we’re all diverse enough that we can successfully communicate what we want. I play a little bit of drums, so sometimes I’m thinking in my head, what if the drum was a little more like this…and Daniel’s like, you mean like THIS? And I’m like, YES exactly! The thing you did!  AS: Brandon’s more a rock/jazz guy; I’m rock/funk. You can hear all these different influences coming together when you hear us play. It’s not straight out of the can or processed. Overall, it’s just creative.

Tell us about your EP and the songwriting behind it. DW: We took our time with this EP. AS: It’s the first taste, like when you go to the ice cream shop and they give you a little spoon. You’ll be like, aw, I like it! Get me three scoops! RS: A couple of the songs started as open-word vomit, like rap. I’d think, “Okay, how am I feeling?” as these guys play the song progression and we spit out the song in ten minutes. That’s where the lyrics are most honest. I hope people listen to it and take something from it. 

As the songwriter, I’m never going to get exactly what’s in my head, but I’m in this group because I know these people are talented and
I trust them. 

soundcloud.com/achelpung

Social media:
thesoulservice (Band)
rachelspung (Rachel Spung)
brenda_beane (Brandon Earley)
alonsosmusic (Alonso Sanchez)
dandan1790 (Daniel Williams)

Article originally appeared in Issue 11.5 “Dine” 2019

ORDER ISSUE

#42 Juan Sanchez – Founder and Creative Director of Baunfire Digital Agency

Juan founded Baunfire in 2003 to provide “great work” for his clients and soon realized that a “great team” is the key to the quality of Baunfire’s service. As a digital design agency based in the heart of Silicon Valley, downtown San Jose, they have partnered with leading global brands and forward-thinking startups to design and develop elevated platforms on the web. Baunfire has partnered with a diverse group of high-profile clients including Nike, Netgear, Honda, Cisco, The Walt Disney Company, and more.

In our conversation, Juan talks about his recent challenges, the expansion of his team and team-building culture, and working remotely during COVID-19. Which was surprisingly seamless since his team had already had moved to a cloud-based work environment.

Baunfire was featured in Issue 8.3 “Show” and is the agency that designed our current website.

www.baunfire.com 
Instagram: baunfire 
Twitter: baunfire
Facebook: wearebaunfire

Baunfire was featured in issue 8.3 “Show” 2016.

Music for this episode is “Alone Time” by Mild Monk
Follow him at:
IG: @MildMonkMusic
Spotify: Mild Monk http://bit.ly/MildMonkMusicSpotify
Read interview with Mild Monk in issue 12.0 

Dinner at Montalvo Art Center from Content Magazine on Vimeo.

 

T he Lucas Residency Program is a multidisciplinary artist residency program that continues Montalvo’s 75-year tradition of hosting artists in the heart of Silicon Valley. From local cities like Saratoga and Los Gatos to much farther places like New Zealand and Australia, the program hosts painters, sculptors, dancers, writers, filmmakers, and architects all at emerging phases of their careers. 

The residency space, built in 2004, was specially designed for artists with the help of the artists. During the building and planning, architects collaborated with the program residents, resulting in unique live/ work spaces for ten different discipline-specific studios. The end result is a community where the artists can feel free to explore their creative mediums while building relationships with other residents as well as the public. 

Since Montalvo is a public park, the artists have opportunities to engage with some of the 200,000 people who pass through the property every year. The artists often display their work to the public, such as the Final Friday program (which is the last Friday of every month), and they frequently partner with local organizations and schools, such as the San Jose Museum of Art, Stanford, or San Jose State. 

A current project of the Lucas Residency Program involves providing local public schools with teaching artists. Montalvo had a number of teaching artists in residence from 2007 to 2010, and they’re now offering elementary schools in the Campbell Union School District the opportunity to have artists visit classrooms and teach the students. 

One of the many unique feature to the LRP is a culinary fellow which provides the chef not only time to create, but to also bring the artists together several times a week at the dinner table. Around the meal, relationships are forged, collaborations begin, and creativity flourishes. 

Below, you’ll find a cross section of the artists that were a part of the LRP during the Summer of 2013. 

Shelly Silver

Montalvo_Art_0003.jpg

Medium: Movie Image, Film, Photography and Video Installations
Home: New York, New York.

Shelly has been working on a video project to understand why people live here and why they have moved to the Bay Area. Thinking of herself as an “alien” or outside observer, dropped into our community, Silver remarked, “everyone here says they are an entrepreneur.

shellysilver.com 5lessonsmovie.com 


Revista Bostezo

MontalvoArtists_0068.jpg

Medium: Journalism and Education
Home: Valencia, Spain

(Left to Right) David Barberá is Associate Editor of Bostezo since 2008 and Assistant Professor at INGENIO (CSIC-UPV, Valencia, Spain). Barberáis interviewing Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and artists as part of his academic research on failure. Itziar Castelló Castelló is Associate Editor at Bostezo, Assistant Professor at Carlos III University (Madrid, Spain) and researcher at the Centre for Corporate Social Responsibility at Copenhagen Business School. Castelló and Barberá are also conducting research at SCANCOR at Stadnford during thier stay at Montalvo Arts Center. Francisco (Paco) Inclán is a writer, journalist, activist, and Managing Editor of Bostezo. As part of a coming issue of Bostezo on failure, Inclán is interviewing and doing research in the Bay area to better understand how people learn, handle and overcome failure.

Facebook: @RevistaBostezo | Twitter:@revistabostezo  


Tiffany Singh 

Montalvo_Art_0049.jpg

Medium: Participator Based Installations 
Home: Auckland, New Zealand 

Singh has been working on a project called “Bells of Mindfulness”which focuses on the calming of the mind in our western business culture. Stringing 1,000 bells and colorful hand (?paper instead of hand?) cranes, Singh asks participants to listen to a bell that “speaks to them” and then transplant it to a place they find sacred; then send an audio file to Singh explaining the location and reason for the placement there. Through this we can all track with Singh and learn what our community finds sacred. 

tiffanysingh.com Facebook: tiffanysinghsart   


Sally Ashton 

MontalvoArtists_0012.jpg

Medium: Writing, Poetry, Education and Editing 
Home: San Jose, California

Ashton has been diving into a manuscript that had to be put on the back burner while serving as the Poet Laureate of Santa Clara Country. In addition, she is working on a journey project and a few poems. She describes her time at Montalvo after a few days as being “like a hundred years and it feels like three days… the time warp is a strange river of experience.” 

poetryonastick.blogspot.com dmqreview.com


Enna chaton

MontalvoArtists_0052.jpg

Medium: Photography and Education 
Home: France

Chaton’s primary question is about the politics and social aspects of the human body, specifically about nudity. “Without clothes, we are all the same. Maybe not our shape and physicality, but when you are nude there is no idea of rich or poor and other social classes. We are equal.” Chaton places in her photos different elements  from the surroundings to demonstrate a sense of place, but also the contrast of human and nonhuman. 

ennachaton.canalblog.com 


Andrea Blum

andfreblum_2652f.jpg

Medium: Culinary, Journalism and Photography 
Home: USA 

Andrea Blum is not only the person to set the tone and table for the meals and conversations, she is a reporter, journalist, photographer and entrepreneur. With many interests and talents, Blum has also founded My American Pantry, an Interactive marketplace of American Food and Drink, as well as working on a cook book while cooking for the residents. Blum is working on aerial photographs connecting American food, the artisans, and the land. 

andrea-blum.com  | myamericanpantry.com 


 

For more information, visit http://montalvoarts.org

What kinds of people become full-time artists? Sometimes it’s the kind that meticulously plotted their futures, enlisting in daily portfolio camps and yearly summer intensives. Other times, it’s the kind—like Kristina Micotti—who let their careers evolve naturally, flowing with the course of their lives, somehow winding up exactly where they wanted to be. In every way Micotti interacts with her creative practice—whether in choosing it, developing it, or taking it full-time—Micotti proves that you don’t always need to plan. Sometimes it just works out.

Choosing  art

Micotti didn’t start college as an art major; she didn’t even take art classes in high school. She focused, instead, on swimming and water polo as a teenager and made drawings purely for fun, making her friends laugh with cartoons, birthday cards, and caricatures of teachers (hidden carefully in her backpack so they would never find out). 

The most formative art training she received in her youth actually took place when she was a kindergartener, rollerblading to lessons at a neighborhood woman’s house. The classes were fun, but Micotti’s deepest impression of the experience came from the gallery shows at sessions’ end. “I remember feeling really special, really cool,” she said of the exhibits. “Because, when do you ever see your art in a frame when you’re six or seven?”

When it came time for Micotti to pick a college, she stumbled into San Francisco State as a communications major. It never felt right—dropping in and out of classes, struggling to find a good roommate—until she tagged along to a friend’s orientation in the School of Art. That room of painters, printmakers, and photographers was like a lightning clap for Micotti. She said of the moment, “I realized this is where I’d love to be—this is what I want to do. I feel like when you’re around other creatives, you speak the same language, and you instantly click in. You just instantly know when you meet someone else like that.”

“I feel like when you’re around other creatives, you speak the same language, and you instantly click in. You just instantly know when you meet someone else like that.”

Developing style

Shortly after finding her calling, Micotti transferred to Point Loma in San Diego as a graphic design major. She took Drawing 1 with classmates who had a much more formal art education—but she was never intimidated by it. In fact, it became an advantage. “Since I didn’t have traditional training, my style was more developed than other students starting out,” said Micotti. “I kind of just found my own style from how I drew and developed from there. That’s what set me apart a little bit from traditional fine art.”

Attending Point Loma soon revealed a huge perk—a study-abroad program called Euroterm that toured England, France, Germany, and Italy. Micotti and her friends took figure drawing courses in Paris and art history lessons in Florence—studying Michelangelo’s sculptures and Giotto’s bell tower during lecture and then tracking down these masterpieces after class to admire them in person. From the trip, Micotti received a deeper appreciation of creative craft, a clearer vision of her own aesthetic, and memories she’ll treasure forever. She said, “Basically, all we did was hang out, look at art all day, then draw in sketchbooks at pubs and coffee shops. A hipster dream!”

Upon returning stateside, Micotti threw herself into her studio courses, streamlined her style with cleaner shapes and lines, and found a reputation within her program as an artist to watch. She put in endless late nights on two illustrated series—one on the birds of the Tijuana estuary and another on folk heroes such as Paul Bunyan and Calamity Jane. She prepared not just for graduation, but also for a portfolio review by the American Institute of Graphic Arts—a prestigious event somewhat like a science fair, in which judges browse work, provide feedback, and give awards. “[I was] so nervous, so sweaty,” said Micotti. “It was very competitive. But I’m still proud of the work I did.” And she should be—because her efforts nabbed the prize for best illustration and kick-started the rest of her career.

Going full-time

Since winning the portfolio review in 2012, Micotti’s creative path has become paved with offers—on each of which she focused single-mindedly to turn every opportunity into a triumph.

The hype from that best illustration award led to her first solo show at Subtext Gallery in San Diego’s Little Italy, where she exhibited a dozen paintings and pen drawings featuring her favorite jazz singers. She worked around the clock to produce these pieces, dedicating all her time and energy to pump out top quality work. It paid off, of course, with a smash hit opening—multiple pieces sold and even more buzz generated about her talent. Somehow, Micotti did not expect such positive reception. “It was crazy; it was pretty surreal,” she said. “I’m just not used to that attention. That attention kind of freaks me out a little bit.”

In 2013, Micotti moved back to the Bay Area and started participating in San Francisco’s Renegade Craft Fair—a curated marketplace where hundreds of artists vend their work to thousands (upon thousands) of guests. She stocked her booth with prints of her birds and folk heroes from college but found that her meticulous renderings of Paul Bunyan and Calamity Jane wouldn’t move off the shelves. She also happened to display some quick paintings of dogs—spur-of-the-moment pieces, just to fill out her table a little bit. And these sketches sold out almost immediately. This changed everything for Micotti. She said, “I could draw something for 10 seconds rather than spending hours and hours. I was able to paint spontaneously, whatever I wanted. I loved the freedom of it.” Micotti was hooked. She signed on to this new style at once and still uses it today.

Micotti’s success at art shows and craft markets only spawned more good luck for her career. She attracted clients such as FiveThirtyEight, Schoolhouse Electric, Triathlete Magazine, and the Optical Society, creating anything from lapel pins of scientists to thumbnail portraits of political bloggers. She landed wholesale deals with independent stores throughout California, such as Rare Device, Kira Kids Stores, Park Life, New Works, and Bay Made. And she held two more solo shows in May of 2019—more ink paintings of dogs in the Long Weekend, Oakland, and acrylic paintings of tigers and cheetahs in the Little Lodge, San Francisco. She even has a book coming out soon for which she did the illustrations: The Boob Book, published by Chronicle.

In the future, Micotti hopes to collaborate with bigger clients, make more home goods, and design large-scale murals for local tech companies. But really, she’s not that stressed about it. As she said herself, “I never really knew what I wanted to do with my art. I’m kind of just letting that baby grow on its own. Illustration fell in my lap because I just like doing it and that evolved into products. And then it’s still evolving, but different types of products. I’m going from a $10 pin to a $170 blanket. The products are changing and the prices are changing. I’m just letting it grow organically, just seeing where it takes me.” 

kristinamicotti.com
Facebook: kristinamicottiillustration
Instagram: kristinamicotti

 

Article originally appeared in Issue 11.5 “Dine” 2019

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Michael “Knowmadic” Skulich balances on the precarious line between taking his work seriously and not taking himself too seriously. His modest attitude contrasts with the space he occupies as a prominent artist in the lo-fi hip-hop beat scene. A San Jose native, Knowmadic’s unique sound has skyrocketed into notoriety and made him one of the most important artists in the city. Knowmadic’s work has been showcased on countless mixes and recently earned a release on Inner Ocean Records, a celebrated label that features several top-tier beatmakers working today.

Knowmadic’s introduction to the world of production was in 2012 when his friend Lucid Optics (now known as Justjoey) was rapping and getting into hip-hop. “So I wanted to start making beats for him and that was when I finally really tried it out myself and loved it.” Already a fan of Wu-Tang and MF DOOM, Knowmadic began delving into production. “The name Knowmadic came from just constant brainstorming. I liked the name Nomad but it was a bit simple, and after some time, I landed on Knowmadic and have been going by that for almost nine years now.”

While initially influenced by canonical producers such as Madlib, Dj Premier, Dilla, and RZA, Knowmadic soon discovered game-changing contemporaries like Flying Lotus and Teebs. “Later on I found out the genre that came to be known as lo-fi hip-hop,” he adds about the origins of his sound. “And artists like bsd.u, slr, and Wun Two exposed me to a lane of hip-hop I was unaware of.”

This lane of hip-hop is lo-fi, which has grown into a prominent subculture within hip-hop music in recent years, unique in its sonic motifs and aesthetics. Typically created on the iconic Roland SP-404, the sampler machine heavily associated with the lo-fi sound, the composition of a lo-fi beat often includes jazz samples, crunchy drums, vintage production, and infectious instrumentation that entrances listeners.

“I’m just making music that I like and don’t worry myself with what other producers are making.”

Artists like Knowmadic have taken lo-fi to a sonic space that is starkly distinct from hip-hop production of two decades ago. This ascendance in popularity is due in large part to the beats-to-study-and-chill-to type playlists and mixes that rack up millions of streams on YouTube, SoundCloud, Spotify, and other music streaming services. The internet has fostered a flourishing community of beatmakers across cultures and international borders. Knowmadic can easily be considered both an early adopter of the sound and an artist that continues to push the boundary with his music. His recent works, Echos and Departure, exemplify how he manages to still explore new lush sonic palettes that immerse the listener with his distinctive arrangements.

Knowmadic is a rare example of the San Jose artist who has found legitimate financial success through music. “The first real royalties check that I got that let me know I could quit my shitty[EMS1]  day job and do what I love for a living.” He also pointed out that he found his unique sound four or five years into his career, and that is where he marks the beginning of both his artistic and monetary success.

Despite relying on his music as a primary source of income, he makes a point of continuing to push boundaries and take risks. “There’s some producers who have been doing this for a long time that are crazy talented and don’t get the shine they deserve,” Knowmadic laments. “So it sucks seeing people I looked up to in the genre or know personally get passed over by producers just trying to cash in on the explosion in popularity of the genre. They care more about playlist placements than actually making something original.”

Knowmadic is more concerned about informing the modern sounds similarly to how acts like Teebs and Wun Two informed him. Knowmadic is learning guitar to add more live instrumentation to his work and to follow his own creative instinct. It’s a principle that he encourages other producers and acts to pursue. “I’m just making music that I like and don’t worry myself with what other producers are making.”

Facebook: knowmadicbeats

Instagram: knowmadic_

Twitter: knowmadic_

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Article originally appeared in Issue 12.2 “Sight and Sound” 

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Authors have the power to change people who have never even had the chance to meet them. It is a rare gift. One of those authors is Chuck Palahniuk, known primarily for his first novel, Fight Club.

Chuck Palahniuk was an honored guest of Cinequest Film Festival 23 as a Maverick Award recipient, earning the award for his unique outsider voice that continues to have an impact on mainstream culture. In addition to receiving a Maverick Award, Palahniuk attended the festival in support of a screening of the short film “Romance,” written and directed by Andy Mingo and based on Palahniuk’s short story of the same name.

There is an uncanny peace about him. During one of the Cinequest question and answer sessions, if he didn’t have an immediate answer for a question, instead of filling time until something funny came out or just plain moving on to the next question, Palahniuk bowed his head for a moment. Stilling himself—and the entire overfull theater—he would carefully consider his next response.

There is no pretension to the man. He seemed to just be palling around with the short film director Andy Mingo and Mingo’s wife Lydia, who is a member of Palahniuk’s longstanding writing group that began in 1990. Beyond that, he was immensely accessible, if not all that approachable.

People speak of his work as dancing, splitting, and obliterating the line between the sacred and the profane. His persona is almost entirely that of the sacred, a monk of the artistic order, making his way silently among the path of followers, hangers-on, and wannabes. His stillness and silence is unnerving to some, attracting to others.

Palahniuk is quite prolific, authoring nearly a novel a year, not including short stories and non-fiction. When asked about the motivation for his work, his initial response was about the benefit of his writer’s group. “The first step to make something real in the world is to tell everyone that you’re doing it, so that people ask you about it and hold you accountable throughout the entire process,” he said. “At our first workshop of each year, we go around the room and state very tangible, measurable accomplishments. ‘I’m going to have this ready; I’m going to have this to market.’ And they’re all written down and said out loud.”

On a deeper level, he spoke of his last novel, Damned, as helping him deal with some of his own emotions. “I started writing Damned when my mother was dying of cancer and my father was dead. And so, rather than write a sad book about a middle-aged man whose parents are dead, why not invert it and write a funny book about a dead child whose parents are still alive? It allows me to express all the grief, but in a kind of inverted way as humor. Because grief and humor are so, so close.”

Palahniuk delights in the proximity of grief and humor, sentimentality and shock. It seems that his favorite sort of laughter is the kind that comes from a place of discomfort and pain—a visceral spurt of uncontrollable cackling in response to the shocking, disgusting, and disconcerting.

Even still, his work is so much deeper than that. His writing resonates on a spiritual level that transcends the existential experience of reading his stories. “There is a part of me that thinks it can save the world by documenting things. When my friends, people I love, say something really bright, something insightful or funny, a perfect description, a dead-on something at a party, I can’t let it die. I have to—as a journalist—I have to create Noah’s Ark. I have to get all those animals on board Noah’s Ark. And I’ve got to do it really fast because those animals aren’t going to live forever.”

The theme of saving the world is hard to miss in Palahniuk’s work, with a steady stream of saviors, messiahs, and martyrs beginning with Tyler Durden. These characters are willing and not so willing, selfish and selfless, conscious and oblivious. There is an attraction to weakness and frailty, and a desire to set it free, in Palahniuk’s work and the characters he creates. The human sacrifice of Raymond K. Hessel in Fight Club comes to mind, as does Victor’s selfish gift to others, allowing them to save him, in Choke.

“I was raised Catholic. I tend to work from the same kind of symbols and tend to perceive the world through them. I was raised with them; I can’t escape them. In a way, the ultimate act is to redeem others through self-sacrifice, and in doing so, to redeem yourself. But [my stories] also tend to be situations that the narrators have created for themselves. They create the crisis, and then they create the solution. They have to destroy in order to evolve, to move up, in the way that Christ had to be destroyed.”

No one said saving the world is easy. And every artist, in his or her own way, is attempting to redeem themselves by redeeming others. To quote Tyler Durden, “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”

When we picture acts of courage, perhaps the first scenarios that scroll through our minds involve men and women who brave skin-melting heat to pull children from flame-ravaged buildings or who throw themselves into the path of oncoming bullets to drag unconscious soldiers to safety. But courage takes many forms and faces.

Storytellers, for instance, commit feats of valor too. Take the Bay Area film festival, production company, and film collective BraveMaker. “At our heart,” says Founder and Executive Director Tony Gapastione, “we really exist to elevate brave stories for justice, diversity, and inclusion.” He leans forward, elbows on knees, revealing a lens shutter tattooed on one forearm. “[We] talk about things that we know in culture are necessary to talk about… Let’s get better at having hard conversations!”

This idea, further explored on the BraveMaker website, states, “Artists and storytellers are prophets, creative forces in our world that speak to our need for justice, beauty, diversity, equality, and spirituality. This is a painstakingly difficult calling… We not only want to entertain, but to incite dialogue, [promote] awareness, and bravely shape our culture.”

There’s another quieter act of bravery Gapastione understands well: the act of reconciling with one’s past. Many of us have encountered seasons when we’d prefer to curl up somewhere rather than address past pain we’ve experienced — those times when forging forward feels a little like battling a blizzard and every step in the healing process feels like an act of audacity. For Tony, that situation was his grandmother’s suicide and the calloused remarks he received while mourning her loss.

“Let’s get better at having hard conversations!”

Rather than burying these dark moments, he coaxed them to the surface through one of BraveMaker’s latest projects: a feature-length film called The Thorns We Live With. “[It discusses] what I wish I’d done different. What I wish I would have said. Or how I wish I would have responded when people confronted me,” he shares.

This film (currently seeking investors) tells the story of a family who, according to the logline, “put[s] the fun in dysfunction.” It’s a dramedy in which “sometimes the characters weep in fetal position… [and] then, like any other (ab)normal family, there are times when they can’t stop laughing hysterically.” Because what better way to swallow the medicine of a tough theme than a little sweetener?

“We need to have stories that explore the realities of what people are experiencing today,” Gapastione notes, praising Black Panther and The Farewell for their efforts to help underrepresented communities feel seen. He’s also a fan of Fruitvale Station, a movie based on a young man shot by a police officer on the BART system in Oakland. “When I saw it, that’s when I knew. I need to make movies like this,” he recalls.

Facing rather than avoiding discomfort also helps Gapastione lead boldly on set. Like weddings, video production contains so many moving parts that something inevitably goes wrong — whether that be a filming location falling through, a prop breaking, a camera malfunctioning, or a crew member melting down. “I love problem-solving in the moment,” Gapastione explains, “because things never go the way you want them to go, and that’s part of the excitement of filmmaking.”

This head-on approach has steered him through many sticky situations, especially when diffusing disagreements among clashing crew members. “So you pull someone into the trailer, you have a hard talk, and you get through it,” he says simply, adding that he never publicly shames his cast or crew.
Not only does rolling with the punches get him through the rough patches, but it actually improves the end product. Once, after mediating between two crew members in a time-sucking disagreement, Gapastione was forced to cut four pages from filming the following day. “But it ended up being the best cut because it made the story better,” he smiles.

Which brings up yet another act of brave storytelling: courageous editing. It’s tied to Gapastione’s favorite advice for writers (one repeated often since he teaches a scriptwriting class to empower fellow filmmakers). “Write your first draft (people call it a vomit draft or the trash draft) — and then go back and challenge yourself to cut everything in half,” he counsels. “…Say it better, say it quicker, say it shorter!”

As Gapastione and the BraveMaker team continue to produce daring videos and embolden storytellers young and old, it reminds the rest of us that heroics happen in the everyday. Acts of courage are reserved not only for battlefields but for bookstores. They’re carried out not only in operating rooms but in auditoriums. So don’t look for them only in the streets but in the scripts and on the sets of our local moviemakers.

bravemaker.com

Vimeo: bravemaker

IG: bravemakerorg

Photos and artwork provided by BraveMaker

PHOTOGRAPHER: Daniel Garcia

ART DIRECTOR/STYLIST: Eric Belladonna

HAIR: Ivo Skilj, Vero Montenegro, Crystal Martin-Bulkley, and Cassandra Valadao for Limón Salon

MAKE-UP: Zenia Marie & Diana Cortez

PRODUCER: Kristen Pfund

MODELS: Scout Model and Talent Agency

 

 

 

 

 

 

LOOK 1

Dress – Pippa & Julie, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $48 Shoes – Cole Haan, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $168 Cardigan – RVCA, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $44.40 Earrings – Classic Loot, $25

Girl on finece:

Rain Coat – Top Shop, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $85 Tank Top – Chelsea28, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $68 Skirt – Chelsea28, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $78 Shoes – Moon Zooom, $16 Earrings – Classic Loot, $25 Necklace – Classic Loot, $35 Gloves – Moon Zooom, $8

teen on fince 1 Jacket – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $229 Shirt – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $99 Pants – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $119 Shoes – Moon Zooom, $20

 

boy on fence: Pants – Tucker+Tate, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $38

 

groud shot at bus statino

Diana: Jacket – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $159 Blouse – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $109 Pants – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $135 Shoes – Moon Zooom, $16 Scarf – Moon Zooom, $4 Earrings – Classic Loot, $25 Glasses – Classic Loot, $24 Oliver: Polo – Lacoste, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $60 Jeans – Hudson, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $49 Audrey: Dress – Pippa & Julie, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $48 Necklace – Classic Loot, $30 T-Shirt – Frenchi, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $34 Cardigan – Tucker+Tate, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $22 Glasses – Classic Loot, $24 Daniel: Blazer – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $245 Shirt – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $49 Pants – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $119 Shoes – Moon Zooom, $20 Sergio: Polo – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $69 Pants – Scotch & Soda, Santana Row, $119 Shoes – Moon Zooom, $16

 

Orginally appeared in issue 7.1 “Sight and Sound”

Melanie Panergo caught the DJ bug at 16. At a rave in Oakland, among 10-foot-tall lava lamps, she saw a set by DJ Qbert and Kid Koala, two turntablist legends who that night challenged her notion of just what was possible on the decks. Setting the scene, she says the two “weren’t specifically playing to dance. They were creating a musical collage. Kid Koala [was playing] old instructional records, and Qbert was laying breaks on top of it. I thought it was amazing.”

Soon after, she asked her father for turntables, and he agreed to buy her a setup if she earned straight A’s, a promise she dutifully held up. Once secured, though, she’d skip school with her friends to grab more practice time while her parents were at work. Thanks to an ID she obtained from a brother’s friend who was a bouncer, she also got an early taste of the nightlife scene in her hometown, San Jose.

Through contacts at parties like the now-defunct Stank at the former Agenda Lounge, she landed her first event: a monthly gig at the SoFA gallery MACLA. She overheard patrons say “there’s that girl” enough that it spawned her DJ name. Panergo soon became a regular presence at Universal Grammar events like Dime, the Changing Same, and Live at the Pagoda, parties where she opened for Yuna, Aloe Blacc, and KRS One.

I think, naturally, with all my professional and artistic experience, it’s led me to be in a position to funnel more opportunities to women.

“I’ve always been open format, because I never really stuck to one thing. Hip-hop was definitely a foundation, but I was always digging for other sounds,” she says of her selection, eclectic yet often polyrhythmic and distinctly danceable, a hallmark from a background in DJ’ing breakdancing events, where she’d have to dispense heavy grooves at a rapid-fire pace.

ThatGirl has since expanded her reach throughout the Bay and is likely best known as a member of the Peaches crew, an all-female DJ contingent whose weekly party in San Francisco ran for a decade. “At the time, it was rare to see a female DJ,” she says of the party’s early days, adding that Peaches continued the work of OGs like DJ Zita and the late Pam the Funkstress, whose Everlasting B.A.S.S. party aimed to provide more visibility and exposure for female DJs and creatives. “We saw the importance of banding together and creating that representation for ourselves.”

Since the crew stepped away from their weekly, Panergo has largely shifted her focus to wedding and corporate gigs; at the end of last year, she found a way to merge her budding success in this space with her vision to provide more opportunities to female DJs. DIME Talent Group was born. “I think, naturally, with all my professional and artistic experience, it’s led me to be in a position to funnel more opportunities to women,” notes Panergo. DIME’s talent pool, rich in experience, includes longtime friend Jenicyde and her Peaches crew counterparts, including DJ Umami, Lady Fingaz, and Lady Ryan.

Though DIME is just getting started—the collective was founded at the tail end of last year—she’s hoping her efforts will help spread the notion that the DJ booth, not just the dance floor, is a space where all are welcome. It’s a deeply embedded value for Panergo, as she’s encountered pushback as both a woman and someone who identifies as queer. She’s been denied the decks at events by men, been asked by promoters if her brand is going to scare away the male clientele, and even been asked if her following might compromise a safe space.

Yet, in turn, a friend provided the perfect nickname, given the wide variance of audiences she’s been able to perform for. “Someone coined me ‘the bridge,’ because, eventually, I would bring a crowd of people who were just open, regardless if it was a gay or straight party,” she says. “I thought that’s pretty empowering that I have this niche where I can bring together those worlds.”

Now Panergo isn’t only bridging together different worlds through her mixing. She’s creating opportunity with a purpose in mind—and shifting perceptions one dance floor at a time.

DJ ThatGirl

dimetalentgroup.com

Facebook: beatsbythatgirl 

Instagram: dimetalentgroup

Twitter: djthatgirl

Even when he isn’t consciously looking for it, artist and graphic designer Jemal Diamond seems to find duality in his art.

Born and raised in Stockton, California, Diamond moved to the Midwest after high school—St. Louis, specifically, where he studied theater in college. Starting out as an actor but ending up as a director, Diamond eventually made his way up to Chicago where a vibrant and extensive small-theater scene welcomed him. Soon, he was running a small theater company with his friends, but meeting after meeting led Diamond to experience something of a crisis of faith. “[I] had a major life crisis and pretty much quit theater forever,” Diamond says. “It was then I decided I wanted to make visual art, particularly visual and graphic design.”

Being a poor theater kid, however, didn’t lend itself financially to getting a proper art education. But Diamond found an ingenious backdoor; after landing a job in the computer lab at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, he learned that one of the benefits of being on staff was the tuition remission benefit, meaning Diamond could effectively go to school for free as long as he was employed by the school.

So, he spent the next decade at the Art Institute, slowly moving upward in both employment and as an artist, eventually earning an MFA in visual communication after many a night school class. “I took classes in every discipline, including design, art and technology, painting, fiber arts, and video,” recalls Diamond. “Everyone around me took it very seriously, and I was exposed to some really practical ways for making a living.”

Indeed, soon after graduating, Diamond found success as a graphic designer and art director, shaping the art and design for various technology firms and companies for 15 years. This led him and his family to the Bay Area—first to Oakland, then further south to Sunnyvale.

Throughout his career, though, Diamond has been coming home from work and creating his own art, free from clients’ demands. Armed with something of a Shaolin master’s education in art, Diamond creates arresting yet inviting expressionistic portraits, mostly in pen and ink or digital mediums.

Capturing the childlike innocence of the early German and French abstract expressionist painters like Paul Klee, Joan Miró, and Marc Chagall (artists who he counts as influences), Diamond creates fascinating humanoids—not limited to flesh and bone—but instead manifested in vibrant, rhythmic tones and patterns that are both abstract and familiar. His figures express a certain dualism in intention versus reaction, form versus shape, and much more. “I purposely embed multiple and contrasting symbols, figures, and visual structures in hopes that [the viewers] find their own narrative,” Diamond says of his compositions.

“I purposely embed multiple and contrasting symbols, figures, and visual structures in hopes that [the viewers] find their own narrative.”

And while he injects a fair amount of deliberateness in his art’s thematic or contextual intentions, his process is far more chaotic. “My creative process is intuitive and wholly improvisational. I usually do not have any intended outcome in mind but hope for joyful surprises,” Diamond says, adding: “Over the years, three visual motifs developed that I like calling ‘the Goddess,’ ‘the City,’ and ‘the Map to Heaven.’ Often, you’ll see these frameworks at play and sometimes a mix of two or all three. For me, the challenge is often not how to begin, but when to stop.”

Another fascinating aspect of Diamond’s creative process is his “outsourcing” of a portion of his art. A practice he’s been exploring since the days of LiveJournal, Diamond asks his viewers to come up with the titles for his pieces, opting to let the audience shape and focus a given piece as much as the artist. “I’ve been asking viewers to title my abstract work since I was in art school, and I’m absolutely in love with that dialogue,” Diamond says of this technique. “By asking people to give my work their own title, I’m inviting them to collaborate with me on a meaning.”

As with many creatives in the South Bay, when Diamond first arrived, he felt the landscape to be a bit culturally malnourished. But Diamond found a home in the burgeoning art scene in San Jose. Showing his work often at KALEID Gallery and the School of Visual Philosophy, where he also keeps a studio, Diamond only hopes to keep his art and audience growing.

Jemal Diamond
Facebook: thejemalshow
Instagram: thejemalshow
Twitter: thejemalshow

This article originally appeared in Issue 11.3 “Perform”

 

Activist art is on the rise, particularly in the last two years. While it used to be rare to have art institutions hosting activist exhibitions, they are now being shown across the country and in locations that even just a few years ago would have seemed improbable. Imagine a gallery or museum in a conservative southern town having an exhibition on the theme of racism or Black Lives Matter. The whirlwind of rhetoric and hyperbole from the current administration spewing xenophobia, misogyny, and racism has galvanized artists into action, bringing to light injustice and inequalities.

Many artists have been deeply committed to a practice that addresses pressing issues such as immigration, human rights, women’s rights, health care, the environment, and gun control. This is the bedrock of art-as-activism exhibitions—using the power of the arts to visually document social issues and drive social change. The role of curators and artists is not just to produce exhibitions but, through shows and the programming of socially engaged art, to help shift the way people think about the issues. It has been said that art cannot change the world, but if artists said nothing, the silence would be deafening. Now more than ever, artists, curators, universities, and museum professionals are compelled to produce activist exhibitions because silence on the issues would suggest complicity and collusion.

Using art for social commentary is not a new phenomenon. Art helps humanize and actualize emotions, injustices, hopes, and fears. It can elicit a visceral reaction, provoke and then inspire us to action. Art is not just about depicting beauty, but rather encapsulating and expressing the viewpoint of the artist, drawn from their experiences and perspectives, into a visual form. Common themes are contextualized through specific imagery and art that reflects the happenings of the time. The art and culture feed into each other and can cause transformation as a result.

Think of Picasso’s painting Guernica, portraying the bombing of a village in Spain by Nazi Germany, Goya’s 80 aquatint etchings, The Disasters of War, detailing in exquisite detail the horrors of the Napoleonic Peninsular War, or The Napalm Girl, by photojournalist Nick Ut, capturing a little girl burned by a bomb, running naked down a dirt road in Vietnam. With the onset of AIDS in the ’80s, Silence = Death personified the advocacy and protest of the Act Up organization. That image still has the power to move and disturb. This “logo” included the instruction to turn anger, fear, and grief into action, and it changed the way people looked at the AIDS epidemic, opening a national conversation. These are all examples of lasting, impactful artwork that altered worldviews on war, violence, and injustice.

And consider Guns: Loaded Conversations, a recent exhibition at the San Jose Museum of Quilts and Textiles (SJMQT) that was on display from April 22 to July 15. Guns was their inaugural activist show, starting off, and pardon the pun, with a “BANG.” It challenged the status quo and certainly was not your grandma’s quilt show. As might be expected, the exhibit ruffled some feathers. A few visitors, members, and volunteers expressed disappointment that the work was political instead of what one would expect to see in a quilt and textile museum. The exhibition, however, initiated a fully loaded conversation on guns, violence, and American gun culture—examining both the pros and cons of gun ownership and the resulting polarizing issues. The works were powerful, nuanced, and impactful, with a level of sophistication that allowed the viewer to draw their own conclusions. This is an example of an exhibition that has opened the door to art as slow change, eliciting a visceral reaction while provoking and inspiring us to action. These shows may not take a stance on specific viewpoints but encourage civil discourse, education, and understanding with the intention to create common ground for people with disparate views. This is the start to reaching across the divide, creating synchronicities and collaborations to resolve complex issues. Many works in Guns: Loaded Conversations could have the same lasting impact if given a larger stage. This show will travel next to the New England Quilt Museum in Lowell, Massachusetts, and hopefully to
other venues as well.

Guns was two years in the making. Too many recent mass shootings made the show’s timing bleakly spot on. Amy DiPlacido, curator of exhibitions at SJMQT, said, “I wanted the museum to tackle these social and political issues. I also knew that I needed to take a risk. I figured if we had more relevant themes, perhaps a new audience would come in.” Later this fall, SJMQT will be partnering with various city organizations to sponsor a gun buy-back program entitled Quilts + Cash for Guns. According to Nancy Bavor, director of SJMQT, the goal of the program is to reduce the number of firearms owned by civilians and provide them with an opportunity to turn in guns without risk of prosecution. Participants turn in a gun and, in exchange, receive cash and a quilt.

Discussing the exhibition theme and all the subtleties and nuances that go into understanding complex concepts such as gun control, DiPlacido said, “In a moment where the public is openly questioning and skeptical of the news, words have an even greater weight—now more than ever. As a result, political and social rhetoric seem to be more extreme; because words are finite, it’s easy to see a situation as black and white. In contrast, art is a physical expression, often using little to no words and can shine a light on the gray area which is sometimes omitted
from the conversation.”

Art is a slow form of activism because it sends a less direct message than vocal or written activism. But it is in this gray area, through visual storytelling and the subsequent stirring of emotion, that activist art lives and has its power. Slowly and authentically, art can affect people on many levels. It requires the participant to slow down and spend time absorbing the work and its meaning, stimulating the subconscious. That may cause a shift in held beliefs, perceptions, or viewpoints. Once you’ve seen something, you can’t unsee it. Haunting, powerful artwork returns to the viewer again and again, retelling the narrative and creating new and lasting meaning over time. Rather than telling one what to think, art prompts more questions than answers, and that is the point.

Oscar Wilde once said that life imitates art more than art imitates life. Pop culture and artistic expression are assimilated into the common vernacular, and personal identity is formed through consumption of contemporary culture, whether it is film, music, or visual art. Cultural transformation is necessary for lasting change, but that requires a shift in beliefs and values. Rallies or protests will not have a lasting impact unless the issues resonate as true with the general public. A society’s culture creates their politics—what they support and live by or what they will deem intolerable and reject. Often, what is important, desirable, and sought after is created and visualized by the artists in our midst. They initiate and shift the conversations. Once society embraces those ideals, it becomes embedded in the culture. Think of civil rights, women’s rights, AIDS activism, LGBTQ rights, and marriage equality; the shift in attitudes and ideals creates the new normal—what is perceived as right and correct, shifting the culture in ways big and small. Artists do tend to be the progressive thinkers.

Within the art-as-activism movement, there is also a groundbreaking crusade around who can tell the stories and who is represented. Historically, the art world has been a white man’s club. That is changing, and it’s about time. The #MeToo movement, breaking away from patriarchal hegemony, is giving voice to underrepresented women, people of color, and LGBTQ artists. These voices need to be heard. And with the popularity of Instagram and YouTube, just to name a few platforms, the visual narrative is taking over culture and giving an equal platform to artists to share their voice and vision, eschewing the normal channels of the past for what would or could be viewed. We’ve come to a tipping point, the doors are wide open, and new, invigorating conversations are
happening worldwide.

Look for more activist exhibitions at the SJMQT. “As the textile medium is constantly re-identifying itself with interdisciplinary processes, the work that I show is going to be more nebulous and expansive,” DiPlacido said. “We will continue to highlight current social and political issues. I feel that artists are the courageous visionaries who authentically distill our realities in the visual form, and it is my responsibility to illuminate their voice.”

Art gives us a vision and a means by which to communicate to others in the here and now and to dream the impossible dreams of what could be. The creatives are the soul of a community and reflect society’s best and highest ambitions. They create the manifesto and others follow their lead. These messages get absorbed into the culture at large and produce, albeit slowly, positive change.

 

sjquiltmuseum.org

 

Article originally appeared in issue 10.4 “Profiles”

 

IIf you’ve seen slam poetry live in the Bay Area, chances are you’ve seen Tshaka Campbell performing. Campbell has dedicated his artistic life to sharing his world of words and the performance of his own perspective. Wherever Campbell has called home, he’s brought his poetry with him, lending his intimate stories and words of longing to other lovers of craft or to anybody willing to lend an ear.

Campbell can trace his affinity for words back to his father, who read aloud the speeches of Marcus Garvey and the poems of Claude McKay. Campbell picked up the politics and artistry of what was shared with him, but it was much more than simply context. Even as a young boy, Campbell felt the texture of the words themselves, informed not just by their content but by their intonation, rhythm, delivery—their poetry. He started writing his own poems at a young age, privately, but it took him awhile to find his own style. It wouldn’t be until he performed his poetry in front of an audience that his voice would come into its own. For Campbell, it was about elevating the subject. “When you own it, your body starts to perform it. And when you write about something you’re passionate about, that passion will come through it.”

“When you own it, your body starts to perform it. And when you write about something you’re passionate about, that passion will come through it.”

He and his friends started attending open mic nights at the local poetry club. On the first night of his first performance, the owner pulled him aside and told him that he had something special, and that he needed to perform at the dedicated slam poetry night. Immediately, Campbell saw that people were interested in what he had to say, in the perspective he could share. “At these sessions, you quickly realize how empathetic people are,” Campbell says. “That was impactful. As long as I had integrity in my poetry, people would share in my experience.” Getting a taste of the audience’s reaction to his performances initiated a reciprocal relationship—he realized he could affect them, and in turn they could affect him.

Since then, Campbell has lived the life of a traveling poet. When he isn’t working his day job as a marketing director, he’s either writing poetry or performing at a slam. In his older age, now that he has “calmed down,” the focus of Campbell’s poetry is more domestic. He primarily writes about politics and the struggles of African-Americans, but he’s noticed that regardless of the topic, the poem will center around a message he wants to send his daughter. He’s currently working on a collection of lessons he wishes to impart to her, aptly titled “Letters to My Daughter.”

“It’s almost an unconscious thing,” Campbell says. “Whether it is politics or the BLM movement, as time went on, she was the undertone. It’s like a different lens through that same prism.”

Campbell eventually wants to bring some writing-centered youth programs to San Jose to help cultivate the raw talent he knows the city has. He believes that there is a stigmatic barrier against poetry—that the important distinctions between “page” poetry and performed is often disregarded, and so, too, is the art. At the same time, others believe that the written form is “intellectual” and performed is “low-brow,” when the two come from the same wellspring of necessary human expression. “Like everything in this world, we dilute and compartmentalize poetry, but people use it every day,” says Campbell. “There should be more of an appreciation for it. But there is a stigma attached to this thing called poetry.”

Performing slam across the world has taught Campbell one thing—that no matter where you go, there will be some niche where people will hole up and share their poetry. Campbell has noticed that, locally, poetry clubs are currently in a trough, with turnout low, especially during the economic downturn in the late 2000s. Still, Campbell is not worried. He knows that the desire to perform and share one’s voice is alive and well, and it won’t be long until others join him and grab the mic.

“It’s all cyclical,” Campbell says. “People will come and go, but there will always be somebody to slot into that space and share their voice.

tshakacampbellpoet.com
Facebook: tshakacampbell
Twitter: pappatshak
Instagram: pappatshak

Article originally appeared in issue 12.1 “Device”

How many books and bloggers have warned us of the isolation of our digital screens? Of the threat of social media corroding friendships or of virtual reality overriding real life? But here’s the thing about tools: They can harm or they can help. It’s up to the user to make that choice, and immersive experience designer Leily Khatibi knows this better than most.

The inspiration for Khatibi’s thesis project at San Jose State (SJSU) arose from her introduction to the concept of the Wood Wide Web—a term scientists use to refer to the underground fungal network that connects the roots of trees and plants, allowing them to communicate and share resources with each other. Fascinated by its striking resemblance to the internet, she realized, “They have their own social media underground. It’s so sci-fi, but it’s a real thing!”

This inspired a question: “If the Wood Wide Web and the World Wide Web were to intersect, what types of hybrid/techno-botanic life would take form?” What sort of symbiotic relationship might be cultivated between tech and plants? Putting this thought-experiment to the test, the SJSU grad student conducted a series of experiences. Interconnecting with the Wood Wide Web (WWW.) resulted in workshops, a greenhouse installation, and an interactive exhibition at one of SJSU’s galleries.

“You’re taking storytelling and turning it into storyliving.”

The workshop part of Khatibi’s project unfolded at Backyard San Jose, a pop-up community garden and event space that temporarily sprang up over the summer in an unassuming downtown lot. If you had signed up as one of her participants, Khatibi would have ushered you over to a long table and supplied you with containers of Play-Doh. She would have instructed you to sculpt a techno-botanic plant that might aid a sustainable future, then write a narrative about your creation’s origin and abilities. These could range from a flower that purifies areas affected by power plant radiation to a genetically modified shrub offering an alternative power source.

The resulting dough creations—carnivorous or floral, viny or thorny—were placed atop black-and-white, pixelated QR code squares, then 3D scanned. From there, they were uploaded to augmented reality (AR), which, unlike virtual reality, adds to the physical world rather than wipes it out. For viewing, participants stepped over to a small “greenhouse” made of transparent, iridescent plastic the color of a soap bubble and picked up the AR HoloLens headset resting on the platform within. With the apparatus strapped on, participants witnessed the virtual organisms they had “grown” now thriving in the midst of Backyard’s real foliage. “You’re taking storytelling and turning it into storyliving,” Khatibi declares. She also got the greenlight to set up her AR greenhouse among the fronds and ferns of SJSU’s climate-controlled rooftop greenhouse. “It was really meta!” she says.

One of her favorite factors of the whole experience? The collaboration—a process that has increasingly progressed to the forefront of her practice. “It wasn’t so much about what my vision was. It was more about how we could collectively create something together…it was a platform for them to bring their own ideas to,” Khatibi says. She also notes that collaboration is implicitly tied to the nature of the internet—an exhaustive number of databases, documents, and other resources pooled into one massive amalgamation. All those different angles of observation reveal a more multifaceted, in-depth understanding of the world around us. “Together we’re stronger and the ideas are more powerful. It’s a more universal message,” she says.

Partnership is also essential to big-vision projects. When we don’t have time to become an expert in multiple fields, tasks can be delegated to different specialists. “You don’t need to know all of it! You just need to know people who know what you want them to know,” Khatibi laughs.

Another main theme of the WWW. project was reconsidering our perception of technology as artificial. Sometimes it partners with nature, Khatibi observes, explaining how undersea cables connect continents to achieve the World Wide Web and how cell towers masquerade as trees.

From this perspective, the advancement of society doesn’t necessarily have to carry us further away from the natural world. It’s possible to blend the two spheres rather than widen the divide (its own kind of collaboration, if you think about it). This can be as simple as making the switch from synthetic materials to eco-friendly ones. In a past experiment titled Sacred Geometry, Khatibi explored 3D printing by replacing man-made plastics with clay.

And it can be as intricate as biophilic design—the concept of blending contemporary architecture with nature, resulting in structures that unfold like organisms, flowing and flexible. In this quest to pull our heads out of the virtual cloud and mentally ground ourselves with organic elements, we’ve ended up with projects like the Amazon Spheres in Seattle, a greenhouse-style workspace with a small rainforest of 40,000 plants and treehouse meeting rooms. And let’s not forget Singapore’s iconic Supertree Grove—man-made, tree-like towers covered with ferns and orchids and embedded with solar panels that supply energy for a stunning light show every evening.

Coincidently, Khatibi gained her bachelor’s in architecture. Such cross-disciplinary studies allow her to apply an understanding of the relationship between humans and physical spaces to her VR/AR installations. “It’s all about environment building and world building,” she says of both fields.

Khatibi’s hopeful view pushes back against progress pessimists who predict a harsh future. “With technology replacing humans, it is kind of scary how robots might take over the world. We see it in all these dystopian narratives in movies. I just saw the most recent Terminator,” she says with a wry smile. “But I also see a lot of potential in it. Even though there’s these phobias or narratives that don’t have such happy endings, I think it could be quite useful to have technology improve.”

And artificial intelligence doesn’t necessarily mean humanity will one day grow outdated. “I was a part of that whole transition—from analogue use to a hyper-digital maturity,” Khatibi notes. As a ’90s baby, she saw Walkmans and CD-ROMs yield to smart phones and Spotify. She watched VHS cassettes give way to Netflix. “As technology changes, I’m changing with it, and it’s just a natural part of who I am,” she says.

A variety of voices will continue to shape our expectations for technology and the future—whether that be dystopian society or cultivated civilization. As she continues to create, Khatibi’s immersive installations are sure to lend a hopeful voice to that discussion.

leilykhatibi.com

Instagram: fewnew

 

Original article appreaed in issue 12.1 “Device”

“Perform” is our annual issue featuring people “performing,” either in a literal sense, such as a model, an actor, or musicians, or in a more figurative way, those recognized for what they have been doing in their craft and the community, such as the SVArts Award recipients. These creatives have demonstrated both a level of community engagement and a level of mastery in their field. Also, we highlight the work of students in San Jose State’s fashion photography 125 class, who managed to do creative work during the shelter-in-place order. I am conflicted as we present this issue. I am not in denial of critical cultural events; however, I am always reluctant to add to the endless commentary and reporting on any current event (like COVID-19). Still, I am crestfallen for the people and their families who have died because of the pandemic, and I am concerned for the number of people that are, and will be, affected by the economic fallout. Because we are a part of SVCreates, and because of our role in supporting artists and the creative sector, we have many friends and colleagues whose lives and livelihoods have been disrupted. Furthermore, we, ourselves, are not immune. Hence the slightly reduced page count in this issue. I have added a couple of elements to memorialize this time in history—the mask on the cover and the COVID Paper Doll Cutouts by Gabriel Edwards. The continuation of the series with San Jose Arts Advocates gives voice to the troubling and uncertain days to come. We hope that this issue finds you well, and that you are encouraged and strengthened to perform at your best in all you do and face.

Thank you,

Daniel Garcia

THE CULTIVATOR

Frank Nguyen has been on a journey for several years, moving toward opening his own crafted coffee house. From building out the space on South Second and Williams to running a pop-up from Five Points on West Santa Clara Street, Nguyen is looking to share his special coffee and select pastries with the community—and to help others to brew that perfect cup. [Editor’s Note: Location on South Second Street opened August 2017.]

How did you come up with the name?
When I began my coffee journey, there was so much to learn. I decided to enroll in the Specialty Coffee Association and get certified. I took some courses and did some testing with them. I just went through the first level of certification, and I was like, “OK. Wow. This is just the tip of the iceberg.” I began talking to a lot of different roasters to figure out which coffees I wanted to work with. From roaster to roaster, everyone was doing something completely different, which is a beautiful thing. You see so much diversity. I realized coffee’s going to be a lifelong learning process. Academic means that I’ll always be learning, always growing. Also, I once spent two weeks on a Russian ship called The Academic.

[Laughs] You liked the ring of the name?
Yeah, I liked the ring of the name. And, since Academic Coffee is always learning, it worked. That’s what we do with our staff, too. Even right now, just a pop-up, whenever there’s downtime, I encourage our baristas, “Hey, let’s read up on a coffee that we’re serving, so we know where it’s from, what’s being done to it, and why it tastes that way.” Also, we’re putting up a mini-library of coffee resources.

Is that for the customers to look at, or just in the back for the employees?
It’ll just be a shelf for the employees. For our customers, we want to have coffee tasting events and coffee brewing events. One thing I always do is, whenever I go to a coffee shop and find a coffee I really like, I buy it. Then, when I get home, I’m like, “It doesn’t taste the same as it did in the shop.”

Our thing is, “OK. Here’s the coffee. This is how we make it here. If you like it, you can go home and make it the same way.” We want to give people the “brew-print.”

You grew up in San Francisco, and is your wife from San Jose?
Kathy’s from San Jose. We met in college at Berkeley, and then we reconnected years later. She was in San Jose working. I was in San Francisco. We were commuting to see each other, and I was like, “OK. This is kind of crazy. One of us should move.” I decided to do it, and it’s been good.

Was that because you saw the opportunity to grow the coffee?
That wasn’t even in my mind at the time. I was still working in marketing. When I came here, I’d find coffee shops I was excited about, but I’d have to drive like 20 or 30 minutes to get there. It was the same with getting great pastries. I’m the kind of guy who will wake up really early and drive 25 minutes just to get a fresh croissant or bread. So I said, “This is crazy, there needs to be more.” I talked to my wife about it, and she agreed with me. She said, “I support you, let’s do this.”

You say coffee and community go hand in hand. Can you describe your focus on that?
A community coffee shop, for me, means a few things. Any business, whether it’s coffee or groceries or anything, is part of that community. The people who work there live around there, so your customers are your neighbors. I see that even in the pop-up.

So from the community aspect, we want to only hire people who live in the area, in San Jose. We’ve had applicants from Santa Clara, but it’s like, “Hey, you’re in Santa Clara? There are great coffee shops there. You guys should work there. You shouldn’t be taking 30 minutes to get to work.”

Also, we’re trying to be really competitive with wages. Minimum wage goes up in July. I know the Bay Area, San Jose, and Santa Clara County are trying to get up to $15 by 2018 or 2019. We’re starting off now at $15 an hour. We have one of the most competitive wages. I’m paying myself less than minimum wage so that every employee can make minimum wage.

The other thing we’re trying to do is to participate within the community. We haven’t actually opened our doors yet, but we’ve already done a few community service events. There’s an organization called QueenHype in San Jose that has an extracurricular program for young women of color—to give them leadership opportunities and skills, to give them confidence that they can go out and be leaders in the community. They asked us to cater their coffee, so I said I’d do it. We’ve done a few other events, and we want to do that monthly. That’s the other part of community.

Are you planning to hold trainings for people to come in and learn how to brew in their homes?
Yes. When you come to a coffee shop, I feel like you’re maybe there to try something new. If you like something, we want you to buy the bag, and then we’ll show you how to make it. We start with these little info cards. You’re either buying a blend or original source. We’ll ask you what you use at home, what method—like French press—and if you grind your beans. We’ll be able to say what grind setting you want, how much coffee you’ll want for each cup of water, and then you’ll be buying the bag with more knowledge, too.

Do you roast your own beans?
We’re working with other roasters now. One roaster we’ve been working with for a while is creating a custom blend just for us. We feel like we’ll know what our customers are asking for, and so we’ll be able to create something specific, just for them.

What do you mean by “meticulously crafted coffee”?
One of the difficulties with coffee is consistency. If something tastes good, then the way you make it taste good every time is to do it the same way every time. We measure everything. We measure our coffee, our water, and note the grind settings. And coffee, like any other food product, ages. If something’s been roasted two days ago versus roasted two weeks ago, the coffee doesn’t necessarily go bad, but you’ll want to adjust it to get the same flavor.

After coffee’s roasted, it’s still degassing, that is, gases are still coming out of the beans. You want to compensate for that to still get the same flavor profile. Most likely, we’ll just change the amount of coffee we’re using, and the grind setting, to change the extraction. You get a fresh pack of beans, time your extraction, and then, if you wait two weeks and do it the exact same way, it’s going to be a vastly different grade of extraction.

What are some lessons you’ve learned?
As a business owner, you’ll want to keep it as simple as possible. There are so many things I want to do in terms of coffee service. With each coffee, you have the option to bring out different flavors by treating it differently. But at this point, we’re scaling everything back.

When we open, we’ll have a very simple menu. Everything will be really good—just simple. I think the key is to start as simple as possible and then grow it from there. At this point, I’m just trying to not stress myself out or my team. I’m saying, “OK, for our batch brew, we’re only going to serve two coffees, and that’s it. But we’re going to spend the entire week figuring out how to make those two coffees perfect.” That goes back to the barista side—what is perfect and what is good enough. The answer is that it will never be good enough, and we’re always trying to make it better. With coffee, it’s extremely subjective.

It depends on people’s palates, right?
Exactly. Even amongst my team, we’re trying to decide, “Do we like this? Do we like that?” It’s OK to have differences, but at the end of the day, I’ll decide what will go out. We like it, we’re proud of it, we hope our customers like it, too, but it’s very subjective. For the most part, I’d say it will be my palate.

I want San Jose to have nice things. I live here. I like nice things. I want Academic Coffee to be something this neighborhood can feel proud about, like, “Oh, we have Academic Coffee in our neighborhood. It’s a nice spot to be in.”

ACADEMIC COFFEE
499 S 2nd St
San Jose, CA 95113
instagram: academiccoffeesj
facebook: academiccoffee

This article originally appeared in Issue 9.4 “Perform”

You stand in a room. You are not alone, but you are. A piano is there, a pianist ready to play. There are people there waiting to hear you sing, critique and take notes you will never read. These are general directors and music directors, other staff from the opera company. This is your 15-minute shot at getting a gig, but you don’t know exactly what that might be. This is audition season, where, for a few weeks each year, opera companies from across the country occupy studio spaces in New York City to hear as many artists as possible to cast their upcoming seasons. Once it’s over, a singer can have spent thousands of dollars in travel, housing, and audition fees in hopes that job offers will come and their dream can continue.

The offer may come from Seattle, Nashville, Florida, St. Louis or any place in between, but a singer does not get a chance to stay in one place for too long. For a single production a singer can spend up to five weeks in rehearsal and three weeks in performances, then pack up and move on to the next gig, yet soprano Kerriann Otaño has found herself living in San Jose for three years now, the longest she’s lived in one place over her decade-long singing career. In 2018, she was hired to perform the role of Senta in Opera San José’s production of Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman while her husband, the tenor Dane Suarez, was a resident artist with the company. Each season Opera San José hires a resident company of singers, from six to eight artists, giving them roles in each of the four productions that season. Each singer is given a salary and an apartment. Suarez was offered residency in the 2018-2019 season, so Otaño used San José as her home base as she travelled for various productions around the country.

“Now my mantra is, ‘I’m good enough. I know enough. I am enough.’ It’s a reminder that I’ve done my preparation. Who I am as an artist and the story that I’m telling is enough. I don’t have to be anything other than what I am.”

The New York native was first drawn to the world of musicals, performing in the likes of Godspell, West Side Story, and Into the Woods, but while in the 10th grade Otaño was taken to the Metropolitan Opera by her voice teacher to see Bizet’s classic opera Carmen. “I’ve always been kind of a thick chick, a bit juicy in the thigh region, and not a great dancer. I went to these Broadway shows, and I was like, ‘One day,’ but no one looked like me, and they were all super skinny and great dancers and high crazy belters, way better singers than I was. I don’t even remember who the [Carmen] singer was, but she had big, curly hair, and she was all curves. She was this beautiful hourglass, sauntering around the stage with this swag and confidence, and I was like, ‘That’s me. That’s where I fit.’ I really started focusing more on classical music.”

With an incredibly electric presence and booming voice, Otaño’s resume grew into an impressive list containing some of America’s greatest opera companies—Washington National Opera, Houston Grand Opera, Lyric Opera of Chicago, and, where she first fell in love with the art form, the Metropolitan Opera. Otaño traveled for each role, her husband traveling as well for his own gigs when not booked with Opera San José, a situation that is quite common in the world of opera. “The way that I’ve always looked at it is if Dane and I are in the same place together, it is a thing to celebrate and it’s wonderful. And if we’re not together, that’s because one or both of us is making music and doing the thing that we love.”

Following a cover role in Wagner’s Ring Cycle at the Metropolitan Opera, Otaño was offered a residency with Opera San José, a job that would give the young couple a chance to stay rooted a bit longer in San José. “After the Met (Metropolitan Opera), which you would think would be the highlight of my life, I couldn’t leave the house. I was just crying all the time. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t know what to do about it.” After years of constantly putting forward a perfect version of herself, the stress and anxiety broke her. Otaño’s peers did not appear to be suffering the way she was, and there was nowhere to turn to for help. “Singers are low on the totem pole of priorities, because we are very replaceable in a market that is over saturated with the amount of talent in America. We have so many very, very talented singers, so it feels like you have to constantly be performing, even when you’re not on stage—you have to always be happy and enthusiastic and pleasant, beyond just being professional. It’s almost like you can’t reveal any damaged sides of yourself.”

She needed time to focus on herself. She needed time to not work—a difficult decision to make knowing her residency with Opera San José was at stake as well as her reputation. Nevertheless, she approached the Opera San José senior management team, General Director Larry Hancock, Music Director Joseph Marcheso, and incoming General Director Khori Dastoor, regarding her situation. She assumed her contract would be terminated and she would be left to deal with her health issues on her own. Yet, Opera San José replaced her for the first production of the season and got her health insurance taken care of, ensuring that Otaño wouldn’t be left jobless and unprotected, a decision that Dastoor explains. “Watching her push through that, I knew she was gritty. I knew she wanted this and was hungry. I watched her triumph over it. She is just a good presence, a good colleague. She has given so much back for everything we gave her. So, of course when she needed our support, there was no question we would be there.”

Dastoor is a former singer herself. Her story is not the same as Otaño’s, but there is a similarity with her struggle. “I’ve lived this life. I didn’t quit because I couldn’t do it or I didn’t love it. I quit because it takes a toll on general wellbeing, happiness, marriage, security. We are social mammals. That DNA doesn’t change because you choose to sing, but the career takes you away from every way people have of coping with the stresses of everyday life.” Otaño first found immediate help from the therapy app Better Help, where for a small fee you are connected with a therapist that fits your issues. Soon, she found a local therapist she could meet with in person. With her story playing out in honest social media posts, other artists reached out to her, unaware that anyone else was dealing with mental health issues. Unlike physical injury, these are invisible illnesses. “It’s not a physical thing that you see. We, as singers, to keep our jobs, push those feelings down and don’t have proper healthcare to pursue therapy and things like that. We ignore it, and it builds up and builds up and builds up and that’s sort of what happened with me. It was about a year that I was experiencing depression symptoms before they really came to a head.” With the help of Opera San José and her doctors, Otaño is back on stage and most importantly, healthy. With the unexpected outpouring of support and confessions, the experience revealed a new world to her. There is safety in expressing those fears and anxieties that remain hidden, deep inside. “I’m in a place now where I want to talk very openly about the importance of therapy and not just be smiling and grinning and baring it, but really getting to the heart of these issues that we all experience as performers, because we’re so generous with our emotions on stage that baring and hiding your emotions in real life only stifles you as an artist.” Her next role will take her behind the scenes in opera, as an artist advocate in administration where she can support and nurture other artists and make them feel less alone when in yet another new city.

The change in Otaño’s approach to life and art is one of joyful growth and evolution. “I have these mantras. It used to be before I would go on stage, I would stand in front of the mirror in Superman pose and I would say, ‘I’m a bad bitch, and no one can fuck with me.’ That was definitely coming from fear. “Now my mantra is, ‘I’m good enough. I know enough. I am enough.’ It’s a reminder that  I’ve done my preparation. Who I am as an artist and the story that I’m telling is enough. I don’t have to be anything other than what I am.” 

Article originally appeared in Issue 12.2 “Sight and Sound” 

ORDER ISSUE

Grab a seat behind the goal about halfway up the stands at Avaya Stadium. Take in the game and the air traffic of Mineta Airport in the distance, framed by the boxy downtown San Jose skyline and the peaks that form the Santa Clara Valley. The sun sets about halfway through most games, depending on the season. Look to your left, and you’ll see a Vietnamese family sharing snacks, sporting Earthquakes jerseys and bantering back and forth as the game rolls on. To your right, a Hispanic couple, clearly on a first date, is seated next to a group of college students. Beside them, an elderly couple proudly wear vintage soccer swag dating back to the early days of Earthquake territory. The experience of the game, in the still-new Coleman Avenue stadium, is a quintessential San Jose experience, and that’s just the way the Earthquakes like it.

The element of the “fan” in sports is inextricable from the sport itself. The ultimate brand loyalist, a sports fan (short for “fanatic,” of course) identifies him- or herself with the chosen brand on a personal level. Part of the fan’s identity is wrapped up in devotion to the team, the obsession with wins and losses, and the dedication to the success of the sport. The fan self-identifies as a “die-hard fan” and describes how his or her relationship with the sport and the team affects not just game day, but every day. This deep identification with a brand is the kind of relationship that drives an entire industry and raises a poignant question: How are business identities (brands) created, and how do the best brands resonate so loudly with people? Indeed, many people see their teams as inextricable parts of their personalities.

“They see us more as a club than an organization,” offers Jed Mettee, Executive Vice President for the San Jose Earthquakes soccer team. In this “club,” fans are on equal footing with the players in terms of value and influence. Regarding branding in sports, and soccer in particular, the fans are as important as anybody else in making the whole system work. But it doesn’t happen by accident. The perception, reputation, and in-the-flesh reality of the Quakes brand is a direct reflection of their intention to provide San Jose with something that truly represents its people, interacts with them, and provides a rallying point for the city.

 

The Mirror

“Soccer is the world’s game,” Mettee says. “We want to be authentic to the sport. Having that diversity on our roster is ‘on brand’ for us.” It’s also “on brand” for San Jose. Take a look around the stadium on any given game night, and you’ll see a fairly accurate sample of the people of San Jose. You’ll see the ethnicities and idiosyncrasies of the city on the faces in the crowd, decked out in their various self-expressions of team affiliation. Now focus on the players on the field. You’ll see eleven men on the pitch that mirror the crowd. “San Jose is a place where everyone in the world comes together to be innovative and creative, with energy and passion,” Mettee asserts. The San Jose Earthquakes represent that same diversity and passion.

None of this happens by accident. The Earthquakes’ intention to be a direct reflection of their fan base and the city at large comes to fruition in a myriad of ways. The youth leagues that groom children to be professional soccer players, not just in the league but in their hometown, is a priority for all soccer clubs internationally. Inherent to the sport is a rabid sense of geographic loyalty. A player from a certain region plays for that city’s team, and the fans enjoy another level of devotion because they share the same zip code. It could be said that most of the brand loyalty associated with soccer happens because fans look at their teams and see themselves. The commonality between player, team, and fan, pivoting on their central objective (winning), is foundational to the lifelong relationship they share.

The Handshake

To win fans and build a brand you have to reach out. For the Earthquakes, that means literally. Marketing campaigns feature players standing side by side with San Jose locals who are visibly pumped to be grouped with their hometown heroes. These experiences between fan and team establish unity, loyalty, and evangelism. What’s unique about sports is the authenticity of this transaction. The emotional exchange in athletics is undeniable. Players understand that often it’s the crowd that carries them through tough moments in the game. In turn, fans experience community and a sense of belonging to something larger than themselves. This relationship is reflected in the team’s branding.

In a game setting, the fans stay focused for 90 minutes. Opposing team advances are met with boos, and the crowd creatively uses their collective voices to distract and encourage, sometimes in the same breath. All this reinforces the relationship between the brand, the team, the players, and the fan base. “They all band around a common goal,” Mettee states, perhaps unintentionally leveraging the pun. However, it’s not only the game day interaction that’s important. A real relationship exists between club and fans that builds and strengthens the fan base.

The Cheer

“Vamos, San Jose!”

“Let’s go, San Jose!” Billboards emblazoned with these words dot the landscape. “We are proud of our city,” reinforces Mettee. This marketing slogan offers multiple vantage points from which to view the club/fan relationship. One thing is absolutely certain—San Jose is a city on the move, and the Earthquakes embrace this central identity of the valley. Fans rally around this slogan, both in the community and in the stands. The first professional team to establish itself in San Jose, the Quakes are now embedded in the sports entertainment topography of the Bay Area. The club brings together people from neighborhoods across the city and the greater Silicon Valley, to support the “world’s sport” in a very worldly, transitory place.

The unity of a common goal, a cheer, a logo, the way you feel at a game—all of those things come together to create and reinforce brand identity. Loyalty, regardless of record or roster, are invaluable to the brand. The togetherness organically generated and strategically reinforced creates a “oneness” stronger than the sum of its parts. Sports capture us because of their communal nature—the act of playing, spectating, speculating, worrying, and celebrating. Fans go through these experiences together with unique levels of connection. A win or a loss is felt the same across the hearts of thousands, on and off the field.

The Mirror, the Handshake, and the Cheer. These concepts are not unique to sports, but showcase well in this industry. Perhaps to a greater degree than within any other industry, sports fans are able to self-identify with both the organization and the fanbase at large. The most successful teams can capitalize on this relationship by interacting personally with their fans to tap into the power of shared goals. Perhaps demonstrated nowhere better than inside a competitive arena, the role of a unifying cheer or mantra is to rise up, creating a statement that speaks not only to the team but to the community. At a San Jose Quakes game, “you experience passion all the way through for 45 minutes without stops each half,” says Mettee. In answer to whether or not the Earthquakes are creating new soccer fans in this swirling tech hub, the answer is simple; Just go to a game.

“Vamos, San Jose!”

San Jose Earthquakes
1123 Coleman Avenue
San Jose, CA 95110
Facebook: sanjoseearthquakes
Instagram: sjearthquakes
Twitter: sjearthquakes

 

This article originally appeared in Issue 11.3 “Perform”

Lines and texture, font schemes and color palettes, imagery and composition—all important decisions when it comes to creating the look and feel of a brand. In fact, the concept of branding is often synonymous with these decision points. The creative team focuses on three goals for designing the brand experience: the brand must be descriptive of its mission and products, attractive to the target customers—its tribe—and finally, adaptive for the future and the potential placements for their logo and visual identity. A brand must be designed in such a way as to communicate value to the right people and stay relevant to its tribe forever.

In 2019, the amount of information available to a brand about its tribe is unprecedented and invaluable. As such, branders have an increasing responsibility to listen more to consumers before creating anything at all. Online and on social media, in public forums and across our communities, people are communicating openly about what they want, expect, and demand from brands and their products. “Our job is distillation more than creation. We start by listening,” says Justin Watkins, founder of Native Digital, the branding creatives behind the recent San Jose city identity rollout. Brand teams must first focus on the tribe to which their brand identity most appeals, and from there, determine the voice, visual nuance, and style for the brand. From active listening, to data capturing, to identity frameworking, to brand designing—the branding journey continues. 

Descriptive (of your brand + products)

There is tremendous value in the ability to distil something down to its true essence. Free from distraction and detraction, the pure essence of something is allowed to stand alone, shining in its own uniqueness. It is only in this singular state that we can begin to understand the true properties and value of a thing, product, or brand. The ultimate goal for brand identity is to wholly understand and seamlessly communicate a state of uniqueness within an industry. In short, distillation must happen so description can begin. “We believe objectivity is more important than familiarity,” supports Watkins, the Kansas City native brought in for the San Jose city project. This is truth in the world of branding. When the goal is to determine what differentiates something from everything else, the ability to step outside of that something and look back on it with objectivity is essential.

Of the San Jose project specifically and better branding practices in general, Watkins shares, “We [didn’t] project a new identity onto them. We distilled what we observed into something that no one else could claim.” The essence is inherent—a brand is something. As in San Jose, “We just give it a mark. Which is necessary. Every idea or movement needs a name or a mark. It can spring up from many different sources; the point is people can say ‘Yep, that’s us,’ ” Watkins offers. This mark must be descriptive of the essence that already exists and must be drawn out. Looking at the San Jose project specifically, the visual aspects of the logo speak to the inherent identity of this valley. The font was chosen to simultaneously speak to the street culture and the tech scene of San Jose. The accent mark capping the “e” pays homage to the amalgam of culture brought together by birth, immigration, industry, and innovation. A brand’s design is born from an understanding of who that brand is with the desire to share its value with its target market. The efficacy of the message is dependent, in large part, on whether or not a brand’s tribe is attracted to their brand design. This attraction is born out of familiarity and self-identification with the sentiments behind the design itself.

Attractive (to your target market)

What makes a brand attractive to its tribe ultimately depends on the individual people within it. Understanding the lone customer is the first step in designing a look and architecting an experience for those people. Brand teams explore the dreams, challenges, aspirations, gaps, insecurities, and histories of their customers. These same principles must be explored whether the brand’s product is a microchip or a pita chip. Speaking directly to the tech hub of Silicon Valley, Watkins insightfully offers: “There’s no such thing as ‘low interest’ categories. Just ‘low interest’ brands. Everything has a story. Some of the biggest brands in the world sell meaningless objects, but they have poured substantial meaning into them.” The concept of meaning requires a mutual understanding between brand and customer. This understanding is only achieved through the customer being attracted to and experiencing the brand. That happens by design.

Watkins endorses “adding a level of unexpectedness by doing it, let’s say, 10 percent wrong. A few savvy brands do this well. That kind of experimentation and irreverence is exciting. When I see it, I love it,” he says with enthusiasm, delving into what brands can do to differentiate stylistically. Explore the unexpected and try it on for size and then, possibly, invert the entire thing. This is an idea the people of San Jose can get behind, as that 10 percent “wrongness” can often lead to much larger percentages of innovation. In the discipline and art of branding, differentiation is pivotal. By incorporating qualities divergent from tradition, even just by single digit percentage points, a brand is able to demand attention by igniting interest. Brand teams must strike this elusive balance between attracting their customer base and jolting expectations with the brand equivalent of a plot twist. Deft skill leveraging creative nuance married with solid tribal understanding is vital moving forward into the future, where we’re all hurtling at breakneck speed.

“While the gift of prophecy is not required, deductive reasoning skills and design chops in spades are recommended for aspiring brand builders.”

Adaptive (to the changing times + placement)

Flexibility is key for creating a long-lasting brand. “For the San Jose identity, we pursued a mark that would feel at home in a skate shop as much as a tech conference,” Watkins explains. This speaks not only to the adaptivity required across demographics and interest groups, but also placement—the eventual homes for the brand’s presence: will the brand feel organic concurrently on a billboard, pop socket, and the CEO’s LinkedIn profile? When a brand is developed, it is created within the context of the present and the past precedent, with only a hypothesis for the future. The most timeless brands hypothesize correctly, designing a brand to withstand the changing societal demands and tribal cries for innovation and ingenuity. 

On the subject of tribal demands, Watkins shares Native’s requirement for a brand’s coolness factor: “If it didn’t pass our T-shirt test, we were going back to the drawing board.” While perhaps not universally applicable, the T-shirt test indicates whether or not a brand is packing the coolness factor required by its tribe. For San Jose, the city residents needed to adopt the brand identity in a personal way—incorporating it into their personal identities through fashion. The Native Digital team internalized this truth, refusing to project an identity of San Jose natives from the outside. Rather, by revealing the brand in the form of T-shirts, stickers, and other swag, people were able to experience and adopt the brand for themselves, before it ever became the forward-facing identity for their city. San Jose residents were afforded the opportunity to adopt the identity—to try it on for size, as it were—for themselves, personally. Was it the right fit? Is this how they experienced San Jose and how they idealized the future? For other brands, ways of connecting with their tribe will differ and even change over time. Designing revolutionary brands, cognizant of the eventuality of these shifts, demands creativity, because it flirts with the line between anticipating and engineering the future. While the gift of prophecy is not required, deductive reasoning skills and design chops in spades are recommended for aspiring brand builders.

In Summation

The voice and the visual identity of a brand are both descriptive of the brand and the essence of the brand itself. A brand extends beyond the color and font choices, graphic schemes, and wording of the company manifesto. Its tendrils of influence incorporate into the larger cultural landscape of the industry, and at times, beyond. Remarkable power is contained in a solitary brand when harnessed and channeled in line with its mission and in the direction of its goals. The challenge is in marrying knowledge, experience, intuition, creativity, and innovation together to create something new and different, but also attractive and ripe for adoption. A brand must deliver what the people want and need, in a way that challenges what they thought previously. This is both the challenge and the draw of the discipline. In this context, a brand’s currency is meaning. Using words, colors, typography, and images, meaning in branding is designed. When meaning is conveyed without error in transmission, to then affect the way a member of the target market behaves, feels, or thinks about themselves, the ultimate brand goal is realized. To affect change we brand.

Native Digital
3502 Gillham Road
Kansas City, MO 64111-1283
816.360.9922 
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This article originally appeared in Issue 11.2 “Device”

 

Nestled between East William and South Second Street in San Jose, you’ll find Gallery Suha Suha. Located in the downtown SoFA District, Gallery Suha Suha provides a unique and fresh space for local artists to display their work. Founded by Haelee Choi and Sung Jae Bang, gallery doors opened in December 2017, but the journey really began in 2007. When walking through the gallery, you find art neatly displayed across the white studio walls. If you continue through to the back, you’ll enter the Suha Suha gift shop. In it, you’ll find bags, pins, artwork, and above all else, colorful tiles and clay knickknacks.

After completing their respective art programs, Haelee at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco and Sung at the Art Institute of Chicago, the two met in the Bay Area while working as art teachers. The concept of Suha Suha was born when the two artists began experimenting with making decorative tiles, ultimately bringing them to different farmers’ markets all over the Bay Area. “When we first started making the tiles, we tried a lot of strange things, but really it was a lot of narrowing down, narrowing down, narrowing down,” Sung reflects. It was trial and error as Haelee and Sung searched for their signature, eventually ending up with something that was accessible though different from their own personal work. In Haelee’s own words, it was the necessary realization that “making an art piece and making a product are very different things.”

For 10 years, Haelee and Sung continued to regularly display their work at Bay Area farmers’ markets. With different artistic backgrounds, Sung’s being painting and Haelee’s being character illustration and animation, two different tile styles were born. While Haelee’s tile designs focus more on characters and animals, Sung’s tiles feature objects, one of which is a coaster that looks like an egg. Not an easy task, making the tiles is time consuming and involves drying the clay flat, which takes around two weeks. “The first market we went to was Willow Glen. We sold one tile that day,” Haelee says, laughing. “Now, over the last 10 years, we have probably sold over 5,000 tiles. It’s scary to think about that sometimes.”

Moving from farmers’ market to farmers’ market, Haelee and Sung’s work began to be noticed, and soon, their tiles were being discovered, recognized, and collected. “We met a lot of wonderful people and have a lot of funny stories from that time,” Haelee reminisces. “There was one time, when we had recently moved into a new home. Our new neighbor invited us in, and so we went inside, and there were our tiles! She was showing them to us, and of course, they looked familiar. She just didn’t know we were making them next door.”

While they previously struggled between creation and practical living, the gallery space provides Haelee and Sung with the motivation to create.

With the money made through sales, as well as flourishing jobs as art teachers at their private school, Studio Suha Suha, located in both Sunnyvale and Cupertino, the two were able to open Gallery Suha Suha in 2017. Their very first show was an apt celebration of their signature tiles, and since then, the space has housed other artists’ work, as well as some of Haelee and Sung’s own personal work. While they previously struggled between creation and practical living, the gallery space provides Haelee and Sung with the motivation to create and show their own work despite their busy teaching schedules.

Each Suha Suha show stays up for approximately two months, with their next show, featuring Sung’s work, opening in April. A part of the San Jose Art Walk, Gallery Suha Suha participates in First Fridays, displaying work and offering their signature Suha Suha work, which now includes bags, magnets, tiles, and other small objects. “We see a lot of local San Jose people in the gallery,” Sung says. Haelee adds, “they really love and appreciate art, and we want to offer them this space.”

Facebook: gallerysuhasuha
Instagram: suhasuha_art 

This article originally appeared in Issue 11.2 “Device”

The son of immigrant parents who met in an English-as-second-language class in New York City, Nils Peterson was just four years old when he went to his grandparents’ farm in Sweden for a few weeks. He came home speaking Swedish, English forgotten—his gift for language clearly coming early. In 1963, by then a young professor of English literature, Nils arrived here to teach at San Jose State. He and new wife Judith had driven straight from New Jersey, all they owned packed in their car, a baby on the way.

Today, as award-winning poet, beloved teacher, San Jose State University professor emeritus, and cofounder and guiding force behind the Poetry Center San Jose since 1980, Nils is an artist of profound presence. Through song, paint, pen, and, of course, language, he demonstrates a creative capacity as diverse as his collaborations. He has worked on projects with artists, musicians, and writers, including artists Harry Powers and Steve French, conductor Charlene Archibeque, and poet Robert Bly. Paintings by Patrick
Surgalski accompany Nils’ stunning new poetry collection, All the Marvelous Stuff.

Nils’ ability to engage others in their own creative enterprise is equally profound. He has inspired hundreds of local poets through innumerable workshops and public performances, including his famous Valentine’s Day Reading, when he leads the audience in singing “Some Enchanted Evening.” As Santa Clara County’s first poet laureate, he established the annual Poetry Invitational at San Jose Museum of Art that continues to engage poets with artworks today.

Nils’ poems pay fierce yet tender attention to the seen world. He reflects deeply on close observations and our human situation. He often looks back at his early years, the scope of change he’s witnessed, and the enduring influence of his father. Though he remembers himself as “not an especially triumphant boy,” as honored poet, teacher, and generous member of the arts community, Nils continues to bring readers “all the marvelous stuff.” 

Facebook nils.peterson2

LOOK 1: Striped Poppy Vest, $249; Cropped Pants, $219; Frame + Embroidery Cuff, $169

 

LOOK 2: Jane Pants, $319; Montana Sleeveless Vest, $239; Ellipse Cuff, $189; Cora Accordion Earrings, $219

 

LOOK 3: Tulip Dress, $269

LOOK 4: Plaid Venus Blouse, $269; Plaid Violet Pants, $259

LOOK 5: Black Jacket, $239; Stacked Leather Necklace, $219

Name: Michelle Richardson Age: 20 Height: 5’9″ Hometown: Redding, CA Agency: Stars Management Favorite Book: Bone by Jeff Smith Favorite Music: ’90s hip hop and R&B Favorite Film: Blue is the Warmest Color What do you enjoy about modeling? I enjoy meeting cool people and traveling. I just got back from Japan! What do you think is the most pressing current social issue? Equality and climate change Guilty pleasure? Ice cream! Favorite article of clothing/accessory? My cat hat Place you would want to visit? Hawaii What are you currently obsessed with? Cats. Forever. What is your “guiding philosophy” for life? Try not to take everything so serious.

Photographer: Daniel Garcia
Photo Assistant: Arabela Espinoza
Model: Michelle for Stars Management
Stylist: Elle Mitchell
Hair Stylist: PJ for Bedlam Beauty and Barber
Assistant Stylists: Chelsea Voight and Helen Yoo
Makeup Artist: Zenia Marie
Producer: Kristen Pfund
Wardrobe: Ruti, Palo Alto
Location: Black Sand Beach, Sausalito

This fashion editorial originally appeared in Issue 8.3 Show

The Innovative & Creative Culture of San Jose. Issue 5.0 featuring Jenna Clouse * Joe Carpenter * Mark Haney * Sean Lopez * Kori Thompson * chris Lovos * Flora Moreno De Thompson * cultivator * Susan O’Malley * Josh Shipp * Mark Cosio * Tommy Aguilar Brandon Roos * Richard Vo * Geoffrey Nguyen * Girafa * Cache Bouren * RobertJames * Gillian Claus * Sarah Garcia * Scott Macdonald * Ed Mosher * Shona Sanzgiri * Gillian Claus * Barbara Goldstein * Rebecca Willis * Peter Hsieh * Steve M. Boyle * Jomar Martinez * Tunuviel Luv * tricia Creason-Valencia * Byron Westlund * Phillippe Rey * Kat Belll * Mohammad Gorjestani Jennifer Elias * Yanin Colmenero * Jennifer Toy * cinequest * Halfdan Hussey * Kathleen powell * Marcela Villegas Castañón * jeff gardner * brian jensen * thomas webb * scott macdonald * Sarah Austin * Jen Kwapinski * Stacy Ernst * Sarah Hale * Alyssa Byrkit * Justin Acosta * SJ REP

IN THIS ISSUE

Marty Neumeier / Dan Harden / First to Market / Tanja Lippert / KFJC / On The Corner Music

As a photographer myself, I am especially excited about the new crop of emerging photographers in the South Bay. Some make me jealous and I wish I were doing what they are doing! But, mostly I am inspired. Excited by the potential I see. We created CONTENT MAGAZINE as a place for these local artists to grow in their craft. In this year’s Sight and Sound issue, we again put the challenge out for local photographers to have a chance to showcase their work. In addition, we feature some of the most interesting people and companies that have been shaping not only our Silicon Valley experiences, but also the world. From industrial design to architecture to brand experiences to vinyl records, we are proud to showcase some of our region’s sights and sounds.

Enjoy.

When Universal Grammar released the first installation of its Changing Same mix series this past October, Tommy Aguilar and company chose to kick things off with “An Abstract,” a 45-minute window into the sound of San Jose–based electronic beatsmith B. Lewis. The dynamic journey features surprise sonic turns and swaths of bass, yet at its core, there’s always a distant dose of soul.

In the mix, which first aired on The Changing Same Radio on KZSU-FM, Lewis (real name Brad Lewis) provides a blueprint for the “future bass” sound, an eclectic and far-reaching tag birthed in the SoundCloud era to categorize tracks with vibrant synths, chilly hi-hats, and—most importantly—plenty of low end, whether it’s to nudge along a four-on-the-floor house groove or anchor the woozy swing of trap.

Raised in San Jose’s Evergreen neighborhood, Lewis attended Expression College in Emeryville, where he studied audio engineering. His remixes have flipped songs by artists as disparate as jazz pianist Robert Glasper and Bay Area rapper K. Flay, and he’s collaborated with a number of producers who have been key players in electronic music’s new vanguard, including Sweater Beats, KRNE, and Sango, a heavyweight in the buzzing crew Soulection.

Universal Grammar describes his sound as “messy soul,” an apt term to encapsulate an output that often boils over with ideas that push the sonic envelope yet still feel tethered to an undeniable sense of joy.

By phone, Lewis reveals that a new album is on the horizon. He notes the project is “still B. Lewis,” albeit “an elevated version of my past projects.” He’s also developing a side project he’s calling Saints. In what should be a welcome surprise for fans, the oft soft-spoken producer notes that this release will actually feature him singing. Additionally, 2016 has seen him gain some serious footing within the music industry after securing a co-writing credit on “The 80s,” a track featured on the international version of Chris Brown’s recent release, Royalty.

It’s been more than a year and a half since he’s dropped an official project, and he’s eager to let listeners hear his progress soon. He also admitted he’s not the only one. “I have a lot of producer friends wondering where the project is,” he says. “That’s a good thing if they’re curious.”

Written by Brandon E. Roos
Photography by Jay Aguilar

B. LEWIS
soundcloud: B. Lewis
facebook: B. Lewis

This article originally appeared in Issue 8.1 “Sight and Sound.”


We are all performers: you know, “All the world’s a stage, etc.” In relationships, as students, and definitely at work, people review, assess, and critique us on what we do. As we do with others, even if this means simply evaluating someone’s character: do they live up to who they say they are, what they say they’ll do? This magazine is a collection of various performers—writers, editors, photographers, designers—each called upon to act out a task for the purpose of presenting it to others. Sometimes those performances are undertaken solely for the love of it, like hooping or being a part of a polo club. The joy of these activities isn’t overly tied to our performance. While other activities, like competitive synchronized swimming, are closely and meticulously measured and scored.

In this issue, we bring you a few of the performers that are sometimes overlooked: the person who lights the theater, the soccer player looking to build an international career, and the rich heritage of Mexican Folklórico dance. Our hope is that you will be inspired to participate with these people or to find your own joyful place to perform.

 

SOLD OUT

John Beaver has three passions: animals, music, and life itself. As a zookeeper at Happy Hollow Park & Zoo, Beaver educates the community about endangered species, leads schoolchildren on tours of the monkey and capybara exhibits, and cares for the animals as if they were his own family. He also moonlights as an electronic dance music DJ at parties and clubs in the Bay Area and, more recently, at national and international venues. A cancer survivor as well, Beaver hopes his positive outlook and perseverance through life’s challenges can serve as an inspiration for others.

“Probably from age 10, I knew I wanted to be a zookeeper. I wanted to study animals all over the world. I started volunteering, taking classes, and got my foot in the door. One weekend, someone took me to a rave, and it was thousands of people dancing—and not just dancing: they were celebrating life. They were happy. It really touched me. I said to myself, ‘This is something I want to do.’ I want to see the crowd having the time of their lives. I want them to think, ‘This is the night that I’ve been looking for.’ I’m going on 16 years as a DJ and a zookeeper. When I had to go through chemotherapy, it was the worst time of my entire life. But I never felt like I was alone. The moral of the story is to be strong through the darkest hour. My goal in life is to teach this to other people. Even beyond playing music, that is how I can touch people’s lives.”

 

SOUND CLOUD
instagram: djjohnbeaver

This article originally appeared in Issue 9.5 “Profiles”

Formed on a whim back in 2009, The Mark Arroyo Trio has come a long way, shifting from an ensemble that crafted interpretations of jazz standards and pop tunes, to a group whose approach is essentially limitless.

Arroyo, the group’s guitarist, recalls the genesis of the Trio: Hotel De Anza’s Hedley Club needed a band for a gig, and he answered the call and, because he couldn’t think of anything more creative at the time of their first show, the group still bears his name. 

“The Mark Arroyo Trio is not me at the front with these two as anchors. It’s always the three of us,” he points out over a Filipino breakfast at Coffee Adventure, flanked by bassist Fred Paclibon and drummer Kristian Buenconsejo.

In 2012 the group began to explore their sound, performing extended re-interpretations of hip, melodically rich tunes like James Blake’s “The Wilhelm Scream” or Lana Del Rey’s “Video Games.” Now their shows involve the three diving into the great creative unknown: completely improvising every number they play. The approach isn’t without precedent—jazz pianist Keith Jarrett has made a career of touring concert halls to improvise an entire evening of music—but it is unique to the San Jose scene.

“That’s one of the things I’ve wanted to get more into, just playing,” Arroyo says. “I don’t know if I consciously made a decision to turn the band into that, but it is a very personal experience for each of us.”

“It’s a very vulnerable experience,” adds Buenconsejo. “Every time we play, I feel like I open up in a way. It’s therapeutic.”

Buenconsejo, the group’s newest and youngest member, sits behind a kit previously occupied by Sutton Marley and Chris Leidhecker. At just 21, he met Arroyo while a student at the South Bay School of Music Arts.

“Every time we have a gig or we practice, it’s always a treat because I get to play with, in my perspective, the elders,” he explains. “The fact that I’m here is a big deal, and the fact that I’m playing with them is an even bigger deal to me.”

For a quick taste of the Trio, try “Juliana,” written by Arroyo as a tribute to his family after the passing of a close relative. Starting with washes from Arroyo’s overdriven guitar, it’s clear the group is establishing a moodier foundation than your typical jazz trio. After playing through a tender, lyrical chorus, Arroyo’s guitar steps back to welcome Paclibon’s bass solo, a searching series of note clusters. A quick cymbal flourish marks the passing of the torch, and Arroyo’s Jazzmaster—a signature of the group’s sound—steps into the limelight. Delicate picking builds to feverish strumming and leads to a bittersweet finale.

Collaborating musicians aren’t able to build such evocative moments without incredible trust and a working understanding of one another’s musical vocabulary. Over the years, Arroyo and Paclibon have become fluent in the other’s style and are now able to react, and almost anticipate, each other’s musical choices.

All three musicians agree that the thing they struggle with most is finding a proper way to categorize their sound. The idea of improvised shows would most closely align with the jazz tradition, but the effects and tones the band utilize often fall more in line with what one would expect from indie or alternative rock. Their live explorations can even touch upon elements of dub and reggae.

“It’s almost soundscaping, in a way,” Arroyo offers.

But that lack of traditional genre has become the point of the group: in a musical world obsessed with labels, these three come together with no discernable guideposts, choosing instead to pull from their collective experience to channel a compelling and spontaneous conflict and resolution. The result is not always flawless, but Arroyo relishes that imperfect side of the live experience.

“A lot of that is because we’re not using sheet music most of the time,” he adds. “We’re not coming from a shared road map. In a way, we’re stacking our own maps on top of each other, trying to find a road to the same place, or trying to create a new road. But that makes it fun.”

Fans can expect The Mark Arroyo Trio’s new full-length project, Two Sides to a Promise, in May, and in 2018 the group is planning a limited vinyl release that captures their live chemistry, something akin to last year’s EP, Shoegazing on Sunday.

themarkarroyotrio.com

instagram: themarkarroyotrio

 

“We’re a people’s club. We want everyone to come out and enjoy the sport.” —Francesca Finato

It’s Friday morning at Gilroy’s South Bay Polo Club. The horses have just finished running laps around a dirt track that surrounds the lush green playing field. The sandy ground is still damp from the previous night’s rain. A peaceful silence hangs in the air for the moment, but come Saturday, the field will erupt with a roar of hooves and the joyful banter of spectators as the afternoon breeze spreads the smoky aroma of barbeque throughout the ranch.

Founded in 2012 by Tim Westin, Francesca Finato, and Santos Arriola, the South Bay Polo Club started as a humble four-member club guided by Westin’s vision to bring back affordable polo to the South Bay. Filling in the void left by the closure of Silicon Valley Polo, Westin sought to open a new club at the same site: a horse ranch nestled in the heart of garlic country. Westin hired Finato to run and manage the club, and chose polo veteran Arriola to be the club pro. For a year, the small team worked to restore the overgrown and neglected polo field that had been decommissioned six years earlier. After extensive mowing, seeding, and mulching, the field was back in playing condition. The club hosted its inaugural opening tournament in June 2012 and has continued to be thedestination for polo enthusiasts from all over the Bay Area. Every year, South Bay Polo hosts a series of interclub tournaments, such as the annual Garlic Cup, that bring players from other clubs throughout California together for a weekend of polo and the club’s signature postgame barbeque.

Three years after the club’s founding, Finato and Arriola took over at full capacity after Westin moved to Southern California. “It was either we leave or keep it going,” Finato recalls, “and it turned into a fun thing we could survive on, and we never looked back.” The responsibility of running the club, teaching lessons, and scheduling tournaments fell to the two of them. In addition to her position as manager, Finato became the club’s owner as well. “You learn as you go along,” Finato laughs, reflecting on her experience of owning and managing the club, a task she continues to perform with dedication and enthusiasm.

Polo has been a part of Finato’s life since high school. At seventeen years old, she began grooming horses at the Menlo Polo Club as a summer job after Tracy Conner, a member of the club, overheard her talking about her love of horses at the deli where she worked. She took her passion to the field during her time at Cal Poly, where she played three years on the women’s intercollegiate polo team. After college, Finato worked in construction management, but her love for the game left her longing for greener pastures. “All day, all I could think about was riding and playing polo,” she recalls. Fortunately, she found a way back to the field. Local polo pro Erik Wright offered Finato a job at Wrightway Polo, where she learned how to manage a club, exercise horses, and teach a new generation of polo players. The experience of working alongside Wright proved invaluable. “I wouldn’t have been able to start [South Bay Polo] without the knowledge I gained from working with him,” she says.

The true muscle behind any polo club lies in the horses. South Bay Polo houses over fifty horses, all retired racehorses. When their racing careers come to an end, Finato says, “they still have plenty of life in them.” The club reaches out to local racing barns and tracks in the area to recruit potential polo ponies, a term used to describe the small horses used in polo matches. “We want agile, cat-like horses,” explains Finato. For that reason, the horses at South Bay Polo are all under 16 hands, or five foot four inches. Once they’re off the racetrack, it takes anywhere from a year to two years for them to start playing tournament polo. “Green,” or inexperienced, polo ponies still possess the athleticism and raw power of their racing days, but they must learn to rewire some basic instincts in order to compete in polo. They need to abandon the pack mentality of running when all the other horses run, so that the rider can make a controlled pass to another player. Finato calls this “accepting the traffic,” a skill she helps green horses practice by using them for umpiring matches. Most horses at South Bay Polo are now experienced polo ponies, having undergone training in the club’s early years. Though they have been seasoned by years of on-the-field experience, they still must be walked and exercised twice a day to stay in prime playing condition.

With each horse comes a unique set of abilities and challenges. Finato encourages those who are serious about the game to own their own horse, so they can become familiar with their horse’s specific skills and characteristics. After spending enough time riding his or her horse, a rider can quickly determine if the horse is favoring a certain leg or not feeling well. The inverse is also true: the horse can internalize the subtlety of its rider’s saddle movements after enough time with that rider. “When the horse and the player know each other, they know what to expect,” says Finato. “It creates this amazing relationship.” Despite the benefits of horse ownership, the club recognizes that not everyone can afford to buy their own horse, so they have a rental program available. The club also offers lessons for beginners, taught by Finato and Arriola. Depending on the student’s comfort level on horseback, he or she can start playing the same day in a beginners’ match, usually held in the club’s covered arena, which is smaller and less daunting than the full-scale field.

Because of the limited player base and relative lack of mainstream coverage, polo is often misunderstood. “Most people haven’t ever seen a polo match,” says South Bay Polo Club member Peter O’Malley, “but it’s a contact sport.” Watching a chukkar, a seven-and-a-half-minute match, this becomes evident. Once the ball is in motion, the thunderous roar of hooves accompanies a frenzied race to the opposing team’s goal. Clouds of dust trail behind a sea of fluidly swinging mallets as the opposing team  struggles for possession. Best described as “hockey on horseback,” the game is intensely physical and demands focus and precision, from both rider and horse.

Bringing riders from as far as San Francisco every week, South Bay Polo continues to attract seasoned players and onlookers alike. The club boasts one of the best playing fields in the Bay Area. Every spring, the club applies roughly 250 tons of sand and mulch to the field to keep it soft for the horses and the ball, which rolls best on soft terrain. But it’s more than the field that keeps members and first-timers coming back. “More than anything, I think it’s the social atmosphere here,” Finato observes. “We don’t just play the game, get in our cars, and leave.” Every Saturday, after the morning match, the club hosts a potluck barbeque on the field. As riders and viewers sit with a plate of food and a cold beverage, they relive the excitement of the game together. In addition to the Saturday barbeques, the club also has a tradition of going out for dinner or drinks after their Thursday night matches. The social aspect of the club is essential for Finato. “We’re a people’s club,” she says. “We want everyone to come out and enjoy the sport.”

In the tech-laden environment of the Silicon Valley, where most people are hunched over computers for hours a day, South Bay Polo offers an escape into a different world. “People come here and they can let their minds leave work and let it all go out on the field,” notes Finato, who has seen people speed down to the club from their day job to decompress with a chukkar. For those who don’t want to make the drive down to Gilroy, the club plays every Tuesday in the arena of the Horse Park at Woodside, closer to many riders’ Silicon Valley workplaces. As someone who works in e-commerce, O’Malley recognizes the power of a polo match to clear his head after a deskbound day. “When you’re out there playing, everything else that was on your mind is gone,” he reflects. Racing through the green field on horseback with a panoramic view of the Santa Cruz Mountains and Diablo Range, riders can forget their workplace stress and reenergize themselves with fresh air and a rush of adrenaline. South Bay Polo seeks to extend this experience to everyone. “Our doors are open to everybody all the time,” says Finato. “We’d love it if people came out and swung a leg over a horse for themselves.”

SOUTH BAY POLO CLUB
instagram: southbaypolo
facebook: southbaypolo

This article originally appeared in Issue 9.4 “Perform”

President Dwight Eisenhower established the sister city program in 1956 to foster global awareness and peaceful relations. A design team from Dublin, Ireland, one of San Jose’s sister cities, presents their view of their hometown.

There are the usual guides of the city and “hop-on, hop-off” bus tours, but if you want a real insight into how Dublin functions, we would highly recommend the Le Cool Dublin Experience. Le Cool, an online weekly magazine, also created the “Le Cool Dublin Walking Tour” to help Dubliners, as well as foreigners, discover new emerging artists, chefs, and designers. The tours incorporate modern elements of Dublin life, such as pop-ups, collectives, and street art exhibitions, as well as quirky points of interest, such as The Waldorf on Westmoreland Street, Dublin’s oldest barber shop.

Dublin is the birthplace of James Joyce and Nobel Literature Prize winners William Butler Yeats, George Bernard Shaw, and Samuel Beckett. One tour that pays homage to Dublin’s literary tradition is the Dublin Literary Pub Crawl. An engaging walking tour led by a team of professional actors, it follows the footsteps of literary greats such as James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, Oscar Wilde, and Brendan Behan. It’s a wonderful evening filled with prose, drama, and song.

Also a must is a visit to the Natural History Museum, or as Dubliners call it “The Dead Zoo”—for obvious reasons. It features a comprehensive display of Irish wildlife, from the skeleton of the extinct giant Irish deer to the rabbits introduced by the Normans. Other floors are devoted to international fauna. You will see elephants, a rare Tasmanian tiger, and a polar bear shot by Irish explorer Leopold McClintock. Now called a “museum of a museum,” the display is a fascinating glimpse of Victorian ways of preserving and displaying wildlife.

The Irish Museum of Modern Art (IMMA) is worth visiting. A whole day could be spent here, with the museum housed in the magnificent 17th century Royal Hospital building, whose grounds include a formal garden, meadow, and medieval burial grounds. IMMA is Ireland’s leading national institution for the collection and presentation of modern and contemporary art.

Eating

A great place to eat during the day is The Fumbally cafe in Dublin 8. Situated just beyond St. Patrick’s Cathedral, an unpromising modern building gives way to a surprisingly welcoming space—with sheer concrete walls and an exposed industrial interior softened by wooden tables and chairs, tasseled lamps, and bright bowls of fruit and vegetables. The Fumbally’s colorful home cooking makes liberal use of Irish produce, “Mediterranean simplicity,” and Moroccan spices.

Brother Hubbard is another excellent eatery just across the River Liffey on Capel Street. As with The Fumbally, the food steps up to the plate. The popularity of its pulled pork special, with mustardy celeriac remoulade on sourdough, has driven it to become a daily inclusion on the menu. It’s wicked in the way only mollycoddled pork can be. Although they are famed for breakfast treats that range from granolas to hangover-hitters like the warm bacon and cheese sambo, Brother Hubbard offers an intriguing Middle Eastern plate. They also make some tasty juices and fruit iced teas—no surprise considering the Smithfield Fruit Market is less than a hundred yards away.

Drinking

At the top of most people’s Dublin bucket list is having a few pints of Guinness. There are two places that always come to mind when looking for the perfect pint. The first is the well-known Grogans Pub, with its outdoor seating spilling over into most of Castle Market on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday evenings.

Another great place for a quiet pint is J. O’Connell in Portobello. This is a gem of a pub: it’s not loud, no neon lights. Deceptively small from the outside, the bar’s interior is typically Irish.

Just a few doors down from O’Connell’s is a more trendy bar called The Bernard Shaw, or “The Shaw.” A proper 113-year-old Irish boozer, The Bernard Shaw was taken over in 2006 by Dublin-based club promoters and label owners Bodytonic, who are known to throw the best parties in Dublin. It’s become a superb local. DJs appear nightly, covering everything from rock to hip hop, reggae to dubstep, and disco.

Markets & Shopping

There are several markets in Dublin, from fruit and food markets in Smithfield and Temple Bar to the Cow’s Lane Fashion and Design Market held every Saturday from 10am until 5pm, featuring stalls from rising Irish and international designers.

The most popular market is the now infamous Dublin Flea Market held on the last Sunday of every month in The Co-op on Newmarket Square, Dublin 8. With over eighty stalls each month, you can find everything you would expect to find at a flea market. Along with the buying and selling, there are DJs, live bands, or whatever they throw together to keep the folks entertained. Customers soak up the atmosphere, drink a coffee, and fill their bellies with homemade falafel, cakes, pizza, and Greek dishes. The Co-op’s organic food store is also open on market days with the best selection of organic and fair trade goods in Dublin.

In the same location is The Brocante Market, held every third Sunday of the month, which hosts oodles of antiques, stylish furniture, and quirky collectibles. Originally a hidden gem on the alternative scene, it has become mainstream. Packed full of bizarre and beautiful curiosities, it appeals to amateur and expert collectors alike.

Written by Revert Boutique


Places to Visit in Dublin

LE COOL EXPERIENCE
Book by e-mail at:
tours.dublin@lecool.com

DUBLIN LITERARY PUB CRAWL
9 Duke St, Dublin 2
+353.1.670.5602
facebook: Dublin Literary Pub Crawl
twitter: dublinpubcrawl

THE LITTLE MUSEUM OF DUBLIN
15 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin
+353.1.661.1000
instagram: littlemuseumofdublin
facebook: littlemuseum
twitter: dublinmuseum

THE FUMBALLY
Fumbally Ln, Dublin 8
+353.1.529.8732 

ST. PATRICK’S CATHEDRAL
St Patrick’s Close, Dublin 8
+353.1.453.9472
instagram: stpatrickscathedraldublin
facebook: stpatrickscathedral
twitter: stpatrickscath

DUBLIN FLEA MARKET
The Co-op
12 Newmarket, Dublin 8
instagram: dublinflea
facebook: dublinfleamarket
twitter: dublinflea

THE WALDORF
13 Westmoreland St, Dublin 2
+353.1.677.8608
facebook: waldorf.barbershop

HATCH & SONS
15 St Stephens Green, Dublin 2
+353.1.661.0075
instagram: hatchandsons
facebook: hatchandsons
twitter: hatchandsons

BROTHER HUBBARD
153 Capel St, Dublin 1
+353.1.441.1112
instagram: brother_hubbard_north
facebook: brotherhubbardcafe
twitter: brotherhubbardn

GROGANS PUB
15 S William St, Dublin 2
+353.1.677.9320
facebook: groganscastlelounge

J. O’CONNELL
29 S Richmond St, Dublin 2

THE BERNARD SHAW
11-12 S Richmond St, Dublin 2
+353.1.906.0218
instagram: thebernardshaw
facebook: thebernardshaw
twitter: thebernardshaw

NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM
Merrion St Upper, Dublin 2
+353.1.677.7444
instagram: nationalmuseumofireland
facebook: nationalmuseumofireland
twitter: nmireland

IRISH MUSEUM OF MODERN ART
Military Rd, Dublin 8
+353.1.612.9900
instagram: immaireland
facebook: irishmuseumofmodernart
twitter: immaireland

KELLYS HOTEL
36 S Great Georges St, Dublin 2
+353.1.648.0010
instagram: kellyshoteldublin
facebook: kellyshotel
twitter: kellyshotel

COW’S LANE
Temple Bar, Dublin 8
facebook: templebarculturaltrust

SMITHFIELD FRUIT MARKET
32-37 Smithfield, Dublin 7


Revert Boutique

Revert Boutique is a boutique branding agency whose clients include companies from various industries around Dublin and further afield. We enjoy collaboration and long-term relationships with our clients, creating everything from logotypes to identities to websites as well as interior design and signage, paying close attention to the small details along the way. The end result is a young, well-crafted brand agency.

REVERT BOUTIQUE
instagram: trevorfinnegan
facebook: revertdesigndublin
twitter: trevorfinnegan


Article originally appeared in Issue 6.4 Retro.
PRINT IS SOLD OUT

Though its ubiquitous nickname is “The Windy City,” Chicago has much more to offer its denizens than just wind and notoriously harsh winters. Chicago boasts a robust culture that makes any visit an exciting and unique experience. From dining to entertainment, activities to architecture, Chicago is a world-class city full of hidden and well-known gems.

Chicago is the United States’ third-largest city, and as would be expected, it has left its stamp on our country’s culture. We see her influence in our daily life—the speakeasy, deep dish pizza, and the idea of multiple hot dog toppings all originate from Chicago.

Good Eats

As any citizen of Chicago will tell you, Chicago makes the best deep-dish pizza in the world. What Chicagoans can’t agree on, however, is which is best. With over two thousand pizzerias in Chicago, it’s pretty obvious why people all have differing opinions. Some of the most well-known pizzerias are Pizzaria Uno’s, Gino’s East, Giordanos, Lou Malnati’s, and Pizanos. They all put their own spin on deep-dish, and all have several locations in and around Chicago. If this seems overwhelming, some instead opt to go on the Original Chicago Pizza Tour, which not only allows interested patrons to sample different kinds of deep-dish pizza, but aims to educate as well.

Another Chicago food staple is the multi-topping’ed Chicago Dog. The most famous eatery to serve this delicacy is Portillo’s Hot Dogs, which is considered a must-visit for any out-of-towner. But truly, the best Chicago Dog can be found at one of Chicago’s most iconic venues: Wrigley Field.

Celebrity chef Rick Bayless also has three restaurants in Chicago, all right next to each other. Xoco, Frontera Grill, and Topolobampo (in order from least to most expensive) all serve signature Mexican-inspired dishes with creative cocktails and farm fresh ingredients.

Another restaurant worth a visit is the Billy Goat Tavern—located beneath Michigan Avenue and forever immortalized by the classic Saturday Night Live “Cheeseburger, Cheeseburger!” skit. In fact, many of SNL’s great talents have come out of Chicago and its Second City comedy troupe, and a trip uptown to see a show is well worth it.

Drink Up

It seems that every city these days has its own special collection of “speakeasy” themed bars, but Chicago pretty much invented the speakeasy. Most notable is Violet Hour, a classy establishment complete with strong cocktails, house rules, low lights and a “secret” entryway behind a mural. Another speakeasy worth checking out is The Office, which requires an exclusive invitation for admittance.

Along with the speakeasy, another Chicago staple is the piano bar. Locals love the Zebra Lounge for its strong martinis, cozy atmosphere, and top-notch live piano music. There is also the famous Davenport’s, which prides itself on being Chicago’s premiere cabaret bar.

A fantastic bar of note is the Signature Lounge, which resides on the 95th floor of the Hancock Tower, one of the tallest buildings in Chicago. They have a fantastic menu in addition to their full bar, but the real reason locals and tourists alike love the lounge is the spectacular view, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows.

Sightsee

One of Chicago’s most defining characteristics is its beautiful skyline, dominated by its largest tower, Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower). As the tallest building in the country, its Skydeck is worth a visit to experience the unparalleled view. The Midwest is flat, and from 103 floors up, you can literally see for miles and miles in all directions.

In addition to Willis Tower, Chicago’s buildings are, in general, beautifully built. The city acknowledges this, and the Chicago Architecture Foundation offers an excellent boat tour along the Chicago River to view and learn about all these architectural masterpieces. The boat tours all dock at Navy Pier, which itself is worth a visit, if only to ride the huge Ferris Wheel and sample some of the locally made saltwater taffy.

Another well-known Chicago site is the public sculpture Cloud Gate, located in Millennium Park. Affectionately dubbed “The Bean” by locals, the stainless steel form was sculpted by Anish Kapoor and is usually swarming with tourists. No Chicago trip is complete without a picture of yourself in The Bean’s warped reflection. Millennium Park has several fantastic art installations in addition to The Bean and, on a sunny day, is definitely worth a stroll.

Right next to Millennium Park is the Art Institute of Chicago, a world-class art museum complete with Van Goghs, Monets, Picassos, Pollacks, and the famous Georges Seurat pointillism masterpiece immortalized forever in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

On top of all the amazing restaurants, bars, and sights to see, Chicago is also populated by Midwesterners, who are polite and friendly to a fault. Chicagoans really want you to love their city. Especially when the weather is nice, it’s hard to have a bad time in Chicago. Even when it’s cold outside, visitors from all over the globe still fall in love with the Windy City every day.


Places to Visit in Chicago

CHICAGO PIZZA TOURS
27 N Wacker Dr, #126
Chicago, IL 60606
instagram: chicagopizzatours
facebook: chicagopizzatour
twitter: chipizzatour

PORTILLO’S HOT DOGS
100 W Ontario St
Chicago, IL 60654
instagram: portilloshotdogs
facebook: portillos.hotdog
twitter: portilloshotdog

XOCO
449 N Clark St
Chicago, IL 60654
instagram: xocochicago
facebook: xocochicago
twitter: xocochicago

BILLY GOAT TAVERN
430 N Michigan Ave
Chicago, IL 60611
instagram: cheezborger
facebook: billygoattavern
twitter: cheezborger

THE SECOND CITY
1616 N Wells St
Chicago, IL 60614
instagram: thesecondcity
facebook: thesecondcity
twitter: thesecondcity

THE VIOLET HOUR
1520 N Damen Ave
Chicago, IL 60622
instagram: violethourchicago
facebook: theviolethour1
twitter: violethourchi


Article originally appeared in Issue 6.1 “Sight and Sound” (Print Issue is Sold Out)

“Art is that light into other people’s cultures.”

Let it not be said that the School of Arts and Culture is an unfrequented place. The countless activities held throughout the week ensure that there are constant signs of life within its walls. Here, classes are offered in everything from folklórico dancing to violin to mariachi music. Here, huge annual events are hosted, including the Cesar Chavez Commemorative March (to celebrate the life of this civil rights activist), La Ultima Parada (to celebrate the Day of the Dead), and Fiesta Navideña (to celebrate the holidays). Here, the community can rent the facilities for a wide variety of occasions. The woman behind the school is Executive Director Tamara Alvarado. With a strong team and an ardent vision, Alvarado has infused this place of learning with a lively spirit.

The school’s mission is proudly emblazoned in its logo—a flying, feathered serpent called Quetzalcoatl. The Aztecs considered this dragon-like creature to be associated with learning and the arts, making it a fitting symbol for an institution that grounds itself in its Mexican heritage. Quetzalcoatl also has ties to other Mesoamerican cultures, reflecting the school’s desire for a multicultural perspective in an area with diverse cultural backgrounds. “We can’t get our work done in a vacuum,” Alvarado says with passion. “We can’t just be talking to ourselves within our own community.” And yet she believes, too, that embracing the beauty of one’s own culture will encourage appreciation for the beauty of other cultures. “I think art is the catalyst that helps you see,” she continues. “It’s like when you’re looking at a crystal or a diamond, but you need light to shine on it in order to see all its facets… Art is that light into other people’s cultures.”

Alvarado believes the school is allowed to flourish because San Jose is a community that rebels against passive consumerism. “They want to be the producer, they want to be the presenter, they want to be the dancer, they want to be the painter,” she observes. And that’s exactly what the school that Alvarado is shepherding offers, the chance to get clay on your hands, paint on your clothes. The chance to be a maker.

The school benefits as well by its location in the Mexican Heritage Plaza, which is intentionally sparing in its use of decorations. This design simplicity by no means makes the venue plain, as can be seen by a quick look around its premises. Walk past the buildings painted in warm desert tones and natural adobe colors. Step inside the pavilion with its floor-to-ceiling glass panels that attract the sunlight. Take a loop around the Chinampa Garden—through the rows of palms, past the sanctuary fountain, and under the wisteria-laden trellis. These grounds have witnessed personal milestones from quinceañeras to graduations to wedding receptions, and their 500-seat theater has seen countless dance productions, plays, recitals, and concerts. The facility is like a blank canvas, waiting to be painted on. Your imagination is the limit.

The year the school opened was also the year that Alvarado became its executive director, but Alvarado had been a steward of the arts long before life’s journey led her to this position. Her childhood was spent in dialogue with dance, theater, and music. Alvarado’s parents used to take her to Chicano Park every year to watch the Aztec dance ceremonies. It must have made quite an impression on the young girl, watching the dancers in their embroidered costumes swaying their heads decorated with pheasant- and macaw-feathered headdresses and shaking their ankles adorned with rattles, or chachayotes, to the beat of the drum. Later, Alvarado took up Aztec dancing for herself. “I was drawn to it because it was familiar to me,” she says. “It was part of my culture.” That was 17 years ago. Now Alvarado’s whole family participates and her dance group, Calpulli Tonalehqueh (“community of guardians who accompany the sun”), practices at the plaza.

Though Alvarado has made certain that the school continues to stay true to its roots, it has also grown in some incredible ways. “There wasn’t a lot of activity going on here,” she says of the institution when it first opened. “It was like peeking out the door and asking, ‘Anyone want to play with us? Anyone coming to our party?’ ” But that feeling subsided pretty quickly. The community’s interactions with the school have gone from tentative to embracing. “They weren’t used to consistent programs,” she points out. “I think now in our fifth year, the community knows we’re here to stay.”

Since the school opened, the number of annual visitors to the plaza has almost tripled. “So, yeah, people are coming to our party,” she chuckles.

SCHOOL OF ARTS AND CULTURE
facebook: SchoolofArtsandCultureatMHP
instagram: schoolatmhp
twitter: schoolatmhp

This article originally appeared in Issue 9.0 “Celebrate”
Print Version SOLD OUT

Head out to the birthplace of Silicon Valley, where you can walk the historic streets that helped shape the technology industry of today. Visit the landmarks, sample fresh and local menus, satisfy that sweet tooth. There’s something for everyone in this beautiful city. Start your journey, naturally, on the tree-lined streets of downtown, just to the east of the Stanford campus.


Begin your day with a smooth latte from Blue Bottle Coffee, one of the largest and finest specialty coffee roasters in Northern California. Housed inside Palo Alto’s historic New Varsity Theater, now the HanaHaus shared tech workspace, Blue Bottle serves a range of sustainably grown coffees from around the world, including single-origin beans—all served within 48 hours of roasting. Although the interior of the building was recently remodeled, the early 20th-century Spanish Colonial Revival exterior remains intact: white stucco curves and arches, distinctive terracotta roof tiles, lines reminiscent of California’s famous missions.

BLUE BOTTLE COFFEE
456 University Ave
Palo Alto, CA 94301
instagram: bluebottle
facebook: bluebottlecoffee
twitter: bluebottleroast


Just down the street is Chantal Guillon, a purveyor of French-style macaroons baked in-house, served with teas from Mariage Frères, a Parisian tea company founded in 1854. The combination is beyond compare. In the macaroons, look for flavors such as lavender and black currant, Persian rose, salted caramel, and jasmine green tea. In the teas, all the classic varieties, as well as speciality blends.

CHANTAL GUILLON
444 University Ave
Palo Alto, CA 94301
instagram: chantalguillon
facebook: chantalguillonfanpage
twitter: chantalguillon


If you’re in the mood for a lighter beverage, and perhaps a meal, then stroll over to Lemonade. The setup is colorful and cafeteria-style, the lemonade freshly squeezed and ice-cold, the quick-order menu seasonal and surprisingly healthy. Try the orecchiette pasta with cherry and sun-dried tomatoes. Or the ahi tuna and avocado poke with tangerines and icicle radish. Or a selection from their marketplace veggie dishes and slow-simmered braised meats. Pair your meal with a not-so-strictly-lemon lemonade. Expect variations such as guava limeade and carrot ginger.

LEMONADE
151 University Ave
Palo Alto, CA 94301
instagram: lemonadela
facebook: lemonadela
twitter: lemonadela


If you prefer something a little less casual, you might give family-owned, farm-to-table Local Union 271 a try. Their mission is etched in their name: the food is fresh and local and sourced from a circle of member farms, ranches, dairies, bakeries, and other area producers. The experience is delectable. Even the interior decor is local, handcrafted by Bay Area artisans. Truly a must-stop restaurant for lunch or dinner. Note they also serve Verve Coffee from Santa Cruz.

LOCAL UNION 271
271 University Ave
Palo Alto, CA 94301
instagram: local_union_271
facebook: localunion271
twitter: 271local


Next, walk down University to the Stanford Theatre. Completed in 1925, this historic theater offers a portal to the past, with its neoclassical Persian and Moorish architecture, its vast ceilings and lush art nouveau interior, the scalloped red velvet curtains over the screen, and matching red velvet seats. Purchased in 1987 by the Packard Foundation, it was restored to its original splendor, reopening two years later. And it’s been entertaining audiences ever since with film classics from the silent era up through 1970. It’s one of the finest theaters on the Peninsula for experiencing Hollywood’s Golden Age.

STANFORD THEATRE
221 University Ave
Palo Alto, CA 94301
instagram: stanfordtheatre
facebook: stanfordtheatre
twitter: stanfordtheatre


After all this walking around, particularly if the day is warm, it might be time for something sweet and light. With locally sourced ingredients and ice cream that’s handcrafted, Scoop Microcreamery is the obvious choice. The shop is a tiny—well, micro—mom and pop affair, and they make their ice cream to order, using liquid nitrogen to flashfreeze the mixture to velvety, creamy goodness. Ice cream made this way packs more flavor. The creamery serves an incredible banana split in a range of artisanal flavors—green tea with mochi, bourbon vanilla with salted caramel swirl, and speculicious, to name a few. Prepare to be delighted.

SCOOP MICROCREAMERY
203 University Ave
Palo Alto, CA 94301
facebook: scoopmicrocreamery
twitter: scooppaloalto


Palo Alto is also home to one of the largest research universities in the country. If you follow University Avenue out past the shops, towards the hills, and continue along the long expanse of park, you’ll arrive at the Stanford University campus. Getting there from downtown is a bit of a hike. If you’d prefer, you can take the Marguerite shuttle from the Caltrain station at the top of University into the campus. The shuttle leaves frequently throughout the day, running from 6am to 7pm. Call 650.724.9339 for times. Once on campus, you can take a walking tour or just wander around on your own. Either way, there’s plenty to see.

STANFORD UNIVERSITY
450 Serra Mall
Stanford, CA 94305
instagram: stanford
facebook: stanford
twitter: stanford


Whether you take a guided tour of the campus or see the sights on your own, be sure to check out the view from the top of Hoover Tower. The observation platform is on the 14th floor, and there’s a tour guide stationed by the elevator who can point out university landmarks, as well as landmarks throughout the Bay Area. The view is stunning. The tower stands 285 feet high and its lobby houses exhibits of historical memorabilia from alums Herbert Hoover and Lou Henry Hoover. Pick up your tickets for the tour (less than the price of a cup of coffee) in the tower lobby. No reservations required.

HOOVER TOWER
550 Serra Mall
Stanford, CA 94305
cantor-arts-center


Another must-see on the university grounds is the Cantor Arts Center. Originally built to house the personal collections of the Stanford family, the museum has long since expanded upon that early conception. With collections of modern and contemporary art, a significant collection of the graphic arts on paper— prints, drawings, photographs—from the late 15th century to the present, and art from the old world and the new, the museum covers a broad range of art history. Its entire Rodin collection is also on view. Closed Tuesdays.

CANTOR ARTS CENTER
328 Lomita Dr
Stanford, CA 94305
instagram: cantorarts
facebook: cantorartscenter
twitter: cantorarts


In the hills behind the university sits a massive radio telescope known as the Dish. Built in 1961, originally for the purpose of studying the chemical composition of the atmosphere, the Dish spans 150 feet in diameter, antenna pointed to the sky. It has been used to communicate with satellites and spacecraft, including remotely recalibrating them. Today, it continues to be important for both academic and research purposes. Today, too, locals know the Dish largely for the nearly four-mile paved path (called the loop) that circumscribes the moderately hilly terrain and leads eventually to the telescope. Weekday or weekend, rain or shine, you’ll find them running, biking, or walking the loop. The trail is open roughly from sunrise to sunset.

THE DISH
Reservoir Road
Stanford, CA
facebook: stanforddish
twitter: stanforddish


Only a five-minute drive from downtown Palo Alto is the immersive experience of the Pace Art + Technology Gallery. Here, you do not view art so much as become completely enveloped by it. Opening just this year, the gallery is devoted solely to contemporary digital art in installations that are sometimes interactive, always expansive. Recent exhibitions have explored the influence of Zen thought on visual and conceptual linguistic systems in contemporary art, as well as highlighted the work of individual artists such as Nigel Cooke, Michal Rovner, Louise Nevelson, and Richard Pousette-Dart.

PACE ART + TECHNOLOGY GALLERY
350 El Camino Real
Menlo Park, CA 94025
instagram: pacegallery
facebook: pacegallery
twitter: pacegallery


If you’ve got kids with you (even maybe if not), you might want to check out the Palo Alto Junior Museum & Zoo, whose mission it is to engage and encourage a child’s natural sense of wonder about science and nature. The JMZ is like two stops in one—an imaginative museum full of hands-on interactive exhibits, and an expansive child-friendly zoo with natural habitats designed for exploration. Home to over 50 species of animals, the zoo alone could fill an afternoon. Fun for the young at heart of all ages.

PALO ALTO JUNIOR MUSEUM & ZOO
1451 Middlefield Road
Palo Alto, CA 94301
instagram: palo_alto_museum_and_zoo
facebook: paloaltojmz
twitter: friendsjmz


This article originally appeared in Issue 8.4 Profiles

There’s always plenty to see and do in Silicon Valley. But sometimes you just need to get out of town and off the grid. A drive to Pescadero can fix that. While only about an hour away from San Jose, this “slow coast” town feels much farther away. With views of the ocean along the Pacific Coast Highway and untouched coastal landscapes along the way, even the journey to Stage Road—Pescadero’s main street—is part of the adventure.

Start the day trip with a coffee and some friendly ambiance from Downtown Local. The baristas double as DJs, playing records while making drinks to order. The quirky cafe is also a boutique, featuring a meticulously curated selection of vinyl records, vintage goods, and local wares. Be sure to check out the little theater in the back, too.

There are a few small boutiques along Stage Road, including SLOWCOAST. Although small, this little shop is hard to miss. Everything sold inside is made by local artists and supports a local cause, from coastal preservation to feeding local schoolchildren.

A visit to Pescadero is not complete without a loaf of artichoke garlic herb bread from Arcangeli Grocery Company / Norm’s Market. This little market with a very long name is full of house-made gourmet food items like salsas, baked goods, and wine. Don’t forget to bring a beach blanket from home, because these make for a great picnic—head over to Pescadero State Beach after you’ve picked out a few goodies. You might want to grab an extra loaf of artichoke bread to take home, too.

If you’re a fan of goats (or goat cheese), be sure to visit kid-friendly Harley Farms while in Pescadero. Sign up for a tour on their website in advance (they fill up quickly), or just arrive and stroll around the farm on your own. After you’ve visited with the goats and llamas, stop by their gift shop and pick up some freshly made ricotta or chevre cheese.

The pace in Pescadero moves a lot slower than in Silicon Valley, but that’s what makes a day trip here so enjoyable. The next time you feel like heading out of town for the day, check out Pescadero and savor all that this little coastal town has to offer.


Places to Visit in Pescadero

Downtown Local
213 Stage Rd
Pescadero, CA 94060
instagram: downtown_local
facebook: downtownlocal

SLOWCOAST
instagram: slowcoastmade
facebook: slowcoastdesign
twitter: theslowcoast

PESCADERO COUNTRY STORE
[Closed as of 9/18/2016. May re-open in the future.]
251 Stage Rd
Pescadero, CA 94060
facebook: pescaderocountrystore
twitter: pescaderostore

ARCANGELI GROCERY CO. (NORM’S MARKET) 287 Stage Rd
Pescadero, CA 94060
instagram: arcangeligroceryco
facebook: Arcangeli Grocery Co. / Norms Market

HARLEY FARMS
205 North St
Pescadero, CA 94060
instagram: harleyfarms
facebook: harleyfarms
twitter: harleyfarms


Article originally appeared in Issue 7.4 “Phase”

You can’t overstate the undeniable draw of a place like Santa Cruz. Where else can you hike amidst the towering redwoods and then hop in your car and within 15 minutes catch a wave at any number of iconic surf spots? As if its natural beauty weren’t enough, this dreamy beach town offers an incredible selection of food and drink and an independent spirit that creates its own unique culture.

When you visit Santa Cruz, start your day off at The Abbey, a coffee, art, and music lounge. This cozy spot just off the highway brews delicious artisanal Chromatic Coffee (San Jose shout out!), serves homemade pastries, and offers an inviting ambiance. Consider this your pre-breakfast caffeination destination, because before it gets too late, you need to get down the street to Cafe Brasil, a tiny, bustling breakfast hotspot. Their acai bowls are a must, and everything on the menu is hearty, healthy, and so, so tasty.

Next up, a couple of gorgeous ways to enjoy the coast. Keep heading up Mission Street and you’ll hit the breathtaking open road of Highway 1, where you’ll instantly feel as if you’re miles from any big city as you take in the stunning ocean views to your left and rolling hills and farms on your right. About three miles out, you’ll hit Wilder Ranch State Park, where you can you hop on a flat coastal trail—either by foot or on bike—to take a closer look at the untouched beaches and wildlife and the endless miles of ocean horizon.

If you want to stay closer to town, you can take a walk/bike/stroll along West Cliff, where you’ll enjoy a view of the Wharf, surfers just off Lighthouse Field, and maybe even a few of the thousands of dolphins and whales who come to feed in the bay. At the end of West Cliff, you can relax on the warm sands of Natural Bridges State Beach—and if it’s the right time of year, you can also enjoy the monarch butterfly sanctuary located there!

All that activity will work up your appetite and have you ready to visit The Picnic Basket, just one of the four brilliant establishments dreamed up by the team at The Glass Jar. Enjoy their selection of healthful and delicious sandwiches and salads (we recommend The Beet sandwich and Daily Grains salad), locally roasted Verve coffee, and one-of-a-kind ice cream flavors provided by The Penny Ice Creamery (another Glass Jar creation).

From here, you have plenty of options. Of course Santa Cruz’s iconic Beach Boardwalk is right across the street—but there’s so much more to discover as well!

Downtown Santa Cruz offers a taste of our town’s eclectic style, with lots of independent retailers to explore. Buying a book off of Amazon just doesn’t compare to the experience of shopping for one at Bookshop Santa Cruz, a local institution where you can seriously get lost for hours checking out current and classic reads. Give yourself time to wander around, and don’t miss Stripe and Stripe Men, two of the best lifestyle, gift, and accessory spots in town.

You can also head up to Mount Hermon Adventures for an exhilarating aerial Adventure Tour of the majestic redwood forest. This is an unforgettable way for a group of friends or family to experience the redwoods—book ahead to ensure your spot!

Recent years have seen Santa Cruz become a hotspot for independent breweries and tap rooms. Of the many to choose from, Sante Adairius Rustic Ales should probably be at the top of your list, having won international acclaim for its barrel-aged beers. You could also invest a few hours in a Brew Cruz, where a stylized bus will drive you around to a number of local breweries to tour their facilities, learn their history, and enjoy a pint at each spot along the way.

To finish up your day, there’s a ton of great restaurant options, including Malabar, which features a vegetarian Asian fusion / Sri Lankan menu, a calming atmosphere, and way too many amazing dishes for just one visit. Try the Mango Almond Curry, Mee Goreng, or really anything on the menu!

Want to catch some live music, a festival, an art show, or a movie screening? Santa Cruz always has an event to check out: visit santacruz.com/events for all the different goings-on you can enjoy during your visit.

The inviting charm of this little beach town with a big personality has made it a popular tourist destination for decades. Lucky for our neighbors in Silicon Valley, the trip over here is short—one you’ll want to make often!


Places to Visit in Santa Cruz

THE ABBEY
350 Mission St
Santa Cruz, CA 95060
instagram: theabbeysc
facebook: theabbeysc
twitter: theabbeysc

CAFE BRASIL
1410 Mission St
Santa Cruz, CA 95060

WILDER RANCH STATE PARK
1401 Coast Rd
Santa Cruz, CA 95060

West Cliff Drive
701 W Cliff Dr
Santa Cruz, CA 95060

THE PICNIC BASKET
125 Beach St
Santa Cruz, CA 95060
instagram: thepicnicbasket
facebook: thepicnicbasketsc
twitter: eatatthebasket

SANTA CRUZ BEACH BOARDWALK
400 Beach St
Santa Cruz, CA 95060
instagram: beachboardwalk
facebook: santacruzbeachboardwalk
twitter: beachboardwalk

BOOKSHOP SANTA CRUZ
1520 Pacific Ave
Santa Cruz, CA 95060
instagram: bookshopsc
facebook: bookshopsantacruz
twitter: bookshopsc

STRIPE & STRIPE MEN
107 & 117 Walnut Ave
Santa Cruz, CA
instagram: stripe_santa_cruz
facebook: stripesantacruz

MOUNT HERMON ADVENTURES
17 Conference Dr
Felton, CA 95018
instagram: mounthermonadventures
facebook: mounthermonadventures
twitter: mh_adventures

SANTE ADAIRIUS RUSTIC ALES
103 Kennedy Dr
Capitola, CA 95010
instagram: rusticales
facebook: rusticales
twitter: santeadairius

BREW CRUZ
instagram: scbrewcruz
facebook: santacruzbrewcruz
twitter: scbrewcruz

Malabar
514 Front St
Santa Cruz, CA 95060
facebook: Malabar Restaurant


Article originally appeared in Issue 8.2 Sync

If you are a Silicon Valley native, “a school bus ride to tour the state capitol” probably sums up your experience of Sacramento in a nutshell. Yet beyond the city’s rich political history, there’s much more to experience. Full of young creatives and innovative entrepreneurs, today’s Sacramento is building a hip community that promotes socially responsible businesses and locally sourced products.

A cup of joe is a great way to kick off any adventure, and Midtown Sacramento has a handful of coffee shops to choose from. If you enjoy your caffeine with a side of sunshine, Temple Coffee Roasters’ S Street location has a large patio perfect to lounge in while enjoying your specialty coffee selection. Roasting its fair trade beans on-site daily, this “Farm to Cup” coffee house always has unique brews to try, which are made possible by its direct sourcing program.

The Mill is another coffee-worthy Midtown option. They’re now serving made-to-order Belgian waffles, and these artisanal breakfast beauties can be whipped up simultaneously alongside your coffee beverage of choice.

From there, you can explore several points of interest within a two-mile radius of Midtown. Head to the Crocker Art Museum, the first public art museum founded in the West, which hosts one of the state’s premier collections of Californian art. Stroll the halls of its historic mansion, amongst antique Asian ceramics and ornate furniture. Then step over to its modern pavilion, to view large-scale landscapes and figurative works.

A stone’s throw away from the Crocker is a tourist favorite, Old Sacramento, a Wild West time capsule. Located along the Sacramento River, the historic old town will carry you back to the era of the California Gold Rush and the Transcontinental Railroad. Grab some taffy at The Candy Barrel and pop into O’Grady’s Old Time Photos for a picture-perfect memento.

If mingling with contemporary citizens is more your pace, make your way to the R Street Corridor. This once-thriving warehouse district is now a mixed-use neighborhood full of artist lofts, craft-cocktail bars, and stylish boutiques. A little over a mile long, the industrial quarter is very walkable. You’ll want to stop on the corner of R Street and 12th for happy hour at the Bottle & Barlow, a local watering hole with an art deco–inspired bar that’s attached to an upscale barbershop. Pick a drink from their seasonal selection, or have some fun and ask for an off-menu surprise.

When hunger strikes, head back to Midtown to a bevy of foodie-style restaurants. The Porch Restaurant and Bar boasts a savory menu, featuring a contemporary twist on classic southern dishes and drinks. Enjoy your meal and Sacramento’s fine weather on its charming porch patio. Be sure to order a whiskey cocktail crafted from their 52-bottle bourbon library, and their grilled Brie, with a delectable house-made jam.

Another local favorite, Lowbrau Bierhall is an understatedly posh eatery. Its communal style seating makes for a great family dining spot. Pair any of its gourmet sausages with a Bavarian pretzel or duck fat fries. Try one of their specialty beer cocktails spiked with an authentic schnapps.

Or indulge in French-inspired California eats at Paragary’s. A stylish bistro originally established in 1983, its chic and fresh interior design is the perfect backdrop for the locally sourced and carefully curated fare.

Why not end the day with a sweet treat? Dabble in chocolate heaven at Ginger Elizabeth Chocolates. Sink your teeth into a Fleur de Sel caramel, a creme fraiche, or hazelnut praline bonbon. Toss in a batch of their luxurious macarons to take home—they are only available as an in-store purchase.

Stop for a quick pit stop before heading onto the highway. Gunther’s Ice Cream store looks almost the same as it did when it opened in 1940. Cruise inside for some good old-fashioned ice cream made from original recipes developed by the Gunther family.

Reminiscent of Silicon Valley before the tech boom, Sacramento’s community and culture provide a much-needed escape from the Bay Area buzz. An easy two-hour drive from the South Bay, it’s definitely worth heading upstate to California’s capital for the burgeoning food, style, and art scenes.


Places to Visit in Sacramento

TEMPLE COFFEE ROASTERS
2829 S St
Sacramento, CA 95816
instagram: templecoffee
facebook: templecoffee
twitter: templecoffee

THE MILL
1827 I St
Sacramento, CA 95811
instagram: themillsacramento
facebook: The Mill

CROCKER ART MUSEUM
216 O St
Sacramento, CA 95814
instagram: crockerart
facebook: crockerart
twitter: crockerart

OLD SACRAMENTO
Sacramento Visitor Center
1002 Second St
Sacramento, CA 95814
instagram: oldsac
facebook: oldsacramento
twitter: oldsacramento

THE CANDY BARREL
1006 Second St
Sacramento, CA 95814

O’GRADY’S OLD TIME PHOTOS
1026 Second St
Sacramento, CA 95814

BOTTLE & BARLOW
1120 R St
Sacramento, CA 95811
instagram: bottleandbarlow
facebook: bottleandbarlow
twitter: bottleandbarlow

THE PORCH
1815 K St
Sacramento, CA 95811
instagram: porchsactown
facebook: theporchrestaurant

LOWBRAU BIERHALL
1050 20th St
Sacramento, CA 95811
instagram: lowbrau916
facebook: lowbrausacramento
twitter: lowbrau916

PARAGARY’S
1401 28th St
Sacramento, CA 95816
instagram: paragaryrestaurants
facebook: paragaryrestaurants
twitter: paragarygroup

GINGER ELIZABETH CHOCOLATES
1801 L St, Unit 60
Sacramento, CA 95811
instagram: gingerelizabeth
facebook: gingerelizabethchocolates
twitter: gechocolates

GUNTHER’S
2801 Franklin Blvd
Sacramento, CA 95818
facebook: Gunther’s Ice Cream Established April 1940


This article originally appeared in Issue 8.1 Sight and Sound.

Shooting in the International Luxury Suite and Fountain Restaurant at Fairmont San Jose provided the perfect backdrop for the Issue 8.0 Explore editorial.

Look 1:
Asaba:
Jacket – IB Bayo, $1500
Shirt – Tobin W. Keller, $275
Shoes – Calibrate, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $125

Sydnie:
Blouse – Lotus, Lotus Los Gatos, $64
Heels – Valentino, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $995
Necklace – Isharya, $318


Look 2:
Coat – Lotus, Lotus Los Gatos, $98
Earrings – Isharya, $128
Hand Bracelet – Isharya, $168
Rings – Isharya


Look 3:
Asaba
Trousers – Tobin W. Keller, $250
Frames – Abbot by Warby Parker, Warby Parker Santana Row, $145

Sydnie
Dress – Tobin W. Keller, $300
Coat – Six Crisp Days, Lotus Los Gatos, $160
Earrings – Isharya, $198
Necklace – Isharya, $288
Bracelets – Isharya, $138 each
Triangle Ring – Isharya, $98
Bubble Ring – Isharya, $68


Look 4:
Asaba
Shirt – Tobin W. Keller, $250

Sydnie
Dress – IB Bayo, $550
Heels – Yves Saint Laurent, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $895
Triangle Ring – Isharya, $98
Bubble Ring – Isharya, $68


Look 5:
Asaba
Jacket – IB Bayo, $545
Boots – Ted Baker, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $250

Sydnie
Dress – Manic Designs
Heels – Stuart Weitzman, Nordstrom Valley Fair, $395
Cuff – Isharya, $248
Ring – Isharya, $118
Double Ring – Isharya, $98

 

Curated for each issue of Content by Universal Grammar, Album Picks are highlights of recent music releases by some of Universal Grammar’s favorite artists. These picks read less like reviews and more like contextual introductions to each artist and their work: they aim to explore the cultural impact of the release itself in 300 words or less.
Caroline Beleno of Universal Grammar


Alina Baraz & Galimatias
Urban Flora EP
(Ultra Records)

Alina Baraz is a Los Angeles–based singer and songwriter connected with Denmark-based producer Galamitas via SoundCloud. Nine months after the independently released, bona fide hit “Fantasy” (with 14 million plays on SoundCloud to date), the two have collaborated to release Urban Flora, an EP featuring eight previously released singles, on the high-profile Ultra Records imprint. Galamitas’ subtle R&B with electronic elements and a downtempo vibe, combined with Alina’s soothing and seductive voice, creates a mood suggesting a pairing with a glass of wine, a book to read, and a hammock.


The Internet
Ego Death LP
(Odd Future / Sony)

Off top, Syd the Kyd is my hero. I have been a super fan ever since my first listen of The Internet’s debut album, Purple Naked Ladies, back in 2011. Introduced via newly minted Odd Future Records, The Internet, which at the time consisted of Syd the Kyd and Matt Martians, displayed a certain kind of soul sound that was new, but right off the bat sounded in step with what my ears wanted and needed to hear. The Internet’s music is definitely soul, but a brand-new version of it, with elements of R&B, hip-hop, and funk organically injected with a modern and intoxicating swag.

With the release of their new album, Ego Death, The Internet puts Odd Future in the rarefied air of having two members of their collective produce two of the best and most innovative soul/R&B records of the last four years. I speak of Frank Ocean’s debut album, Channel Orange. For Ego Death, The Internet is now a band consisting not only of Syd the Kyd and Matt Martians, but Jameel Bruner, Patrick Paige, Christopher Smith, and Steve Lacy, as well, fully formed together in mid-2011. The Internet, too, will have wowed San Jose audiences by this time in their no-doubt stellar performance at the 2015 San Jose Jazz Summer Fest as part of the Jazz Beyond Stage programming co-presented by Universal Grammar (excuse the shameless plug).


Kamasi Washington
The Epic
(Brainfeeder)

By the time you read this, you might have caught Kamasi Washington at this year’s San Jose Jazz Summer Fest in downtown San Jose, as part of the Jazz Beyond Stage programming carefully curated and co-presented by Universal Grammar (shameless plug redux). I believe this will be as epic a performance as any at this year’s Summer Fest, although I am writing pre-performance in this quick review of Los Angeles–based Kamasi’s new album, The Epic. Known mainly for his tenor playing, following in the traditions of John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman, Kamasi is modern jazz, or the future of it, but he’s making waves right now. The Epic is epic: it’s a triple CD release, a must-see in concert. Only then will you understand the full velocity and power of his music.


Donnie Trumpet & The Social Experiment
Surf LP
(iTunes)

Released as an exclusive free download on iTunes at the end of May this year, the LP Surf is a product of the band The Social Experiment. Highlighted throughout the album is the work of trumpeter Nico Segal, aka Donnie Trumpet. Highly anticipated for The Social Experiment’s inclusion of Chance The Rapper as an official band member, Surf has a clear devotion to the art of a new cool, a bohemian mesh of musicians enjoying the process of making music with live instrumentation and of eclectic influences ranging from neo soul to jazz and hip-hop. The Social Experiment consists of Donnie Trumpet, Chance The Rapper, Peter Cottontale, Greg Landfair Jr., and Nate Fox. Surf guest-features current heavyweights in the game, including Big Sean, J. Cole, Janelle Monáe, and new kid on the block Raury.


Thundercat
The Beyond / Where the Giants Roam EP
(Brainfeeder)

To my enthusiastic enjoyment, Los Angeles–based Thundercat, one of my current favorite artists period, given best-in-the-universe status by some of my peers, has just released a new project, an EP titled The Beyond / Where the Giants Roam. Some of my favorite work from artists I dig can come from an EP release. It’s usually more daring and experimental, yet not too far from their familiar sound, taking listeners to new places with it or deeper—case in point here.

The Beyond, Thundercat’s third release following his solo debut album, Apocalypse, has Thundercat showing he is currently in a creative prime. Fresh off guest appearances and studio work on albums like Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly, with this new release, Thundercat is again establishing his own imprint on modern jazz and soul with futuristic incantations for mediation. The EP features a modern jazz vanguard of musicians, including Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, Flying Lotus, Kamasi Washington, and jazz-futurist pioneer Herbie Hancock. (Also see: Suicidal Tendencies, no joke.)


Picks by Thomas Aguilar: Tommy has been presenting and promoting artists, DJs, and musicians from all over the globe in his hometown and other parts of the Bay for 15 plus years under the moniker Universal Grammar. Under the nom de plume “Charle Brown,” he shares his mix of global groove, soul, R&B, jazz, electronic, hip hop, funk, house, and Latin to his hometown audience, San Jose.

THOMAS AGUILAR, AKA “CHARLE BROWN”
instagram: thereal_chalebrown
twitter: ungrammar


7.3 Album Picks Playlist

How the local auto scene and Wekfest grabbed the world’s attention, through youth and fully embracing the powers of social media.

For a majority of people, the idea of a California-based car show revolves around lowered vehicles, loud mufflers, dynamic paint jobs, loud music, bright lights, and wet T-shirt contests. It’s a surface-level understanding of a misunderstood subculture that has often been presented to the world through television, movies, pop culture, and Vin Diesel. For others, these shows and the cars being highlighted represent a whole lot more: a culmination of high-quality engineering and the personalities that go into creating these machines.

Enter Wekfest (pronounced “weak fest,” a tongue-in-cheek tribute to the amazing car builds and their not-so-modest owners), a San Jose–based car show, whose goal is to capture car shows, car enthusiasts, and the youth culture in an entirely different light. Starting out in a parking garage in San Francisco’s Japantown, Wekfest has gone on to become a tour with seven national tour stops, as well as their first international stop in Nagoya, Japan. In its fifth year, Wekfest has grown from the locals’ favorite car show to an international tour, garnering the attention of a worldwide audience.

During its early years, the show focused on JDM (Japanese Domestic Model) builds, but it quickly pivoted to being the home of any type of car build that offered a unique personality. Currently, the show itself acts as a museum of sorts—carefully coordinated by a panel of judges who go through hundreds of entries to put forth the most dynamic personalities available. From trucks to wagons to American muscle cars and even Teslas, Wekfest soon became the car show for all people who put their hearts and souls into their vehicles. As the show grew out of the Japantown parking garage and into Fort Mason in San Francisco, The Queen Mary in Long Beach, and beyond, the way in which Wekfest differentiated itself from other car shows became more and more important.

Behind the new direction of the show was creative director Geoffrey Nguyen. A San Jose native, his goal was to create a car show with life, a show with personality, a show that fans could feel was their own. By changing the way car shows were covered by the press, by utilizing social media outlets at a time when no other car show was, Wekfest was able to connect with fans on a deeper level—before, during, and after the show. To do this effectively, Nguyen’s platform of choice soon became Instagram. “At the time, Instagram just handled photos better. Twitter always put media in the background and put words to the front. Being in a subculture that is visually driven, we had to move to a platform that was visual,” said Nguyen.

Instagram became the source for all things Wekfest. Its content was built around more than just cars, and it soon became the building block for creating the aspirational brand that Wekfest is today. By moving its focus away from simply cars, Nguyen began to curate content for Wekfest that allowed its followers to feel like they were traveling with the tour at all times. By pushing coverage of staff travel days, setup days, and the actual show day, Wekfest took fans along for the ride. Explained Nguyen, “We wanted to thank our supporters for being there with us since the beginning, and even though most show goers can’t go to all the shows, it was important for us to make longtime fans and new ones alike feel like they are integral to the growth of Wekfest—which they are.”

Like anything, to understand where something is currently, it is important to work towards understanding where it came from, where its roots lie. For Wekfest, it’s always been about San Jose, and to understand the show’s influence is to understand its hometown. Yes, tech is a huge influence. The show’s biggest support can been seen on its Instagram account, and while this “new tech” has certainly helped share the show’s experience with others, the core of the show is “old tech.”

Old tech, that is, the tech this generation’s parents thrived in. They’re the people who built things with their hands: tangible items that move beyond dating apps for an iPhone. For Wekfest, these feats of engineering are everything. Floating engine bays are valued over loud sound systems, spoilers, and flashing lights. For some, owning a Ferrari can be impressive enough. For Wekfest, taking that Ferrari, chopping it up, and presenting a whole new machine is what makes builds shine.

While the engineering influence can be seen in the cars, San Jose’s cultural influence on Wekfest can be seen all over the show. Taking influences from areas such as skateboarding, streetwear, music, dance, street art, food, and the cultural diversity that San Jose is touted for, Wekfest has proved itself a Trojan Horse of sorts when presenting itself to the world. Only this time, the horse is bearing gifts. By paying homage to all that influenced him while growing up in San Jose, and also urging the youth to be more adventurous and curious, Geoffrey Nguyen always aimed to entertain, as well as educate, the fans.

“We were the first car show brand to utilize Snapchat in a way that gave the followers unlimited access to our work, as well as our lives. I would Snap anything from the shoes me and my friends were wearing, to my barber cutting and styling my hair, all the way down to a bowl of Pho. Things that you and I take for granted, living here in San Jose, but I would get kids from the Midwest or all over the country who would ask me, ‘What is that? Where do I get it?!’”

Wekfest is at the crossroads of all things San Jose, and through its unwavering authenticity and undeniable style, the show has been able to bring San Jose to cities all over the world.

WEKFEST
instagram: wekfest_usa
facebook: wekfest
twitter: wekfest

Article originally appeared in Issue 7.3 “Style”

From art school to zines to comics to advertising, what a long, wild ride it’s been

The shop walls of Wow Cool | Alternative Comics are lined with colorful comics of all shapes and sizes and an eclectic assortment of art, like the neon Barney poster with Japanese characters scrawled across it in electric pink. As I sat down to talk to General Manager Marc Arsenault, John Peel’s DJ set from the BBC is on and a mix of old-fashioned jazz, disco, and Rasta rap plays in the background. I asked Marc what originally got him into the comics industry, and he said, “It’s almost too weird a story to tell.”

Diagnosed at the age of nine with a heart murmur, Marc was forced to stay inside and so he read and reread comics such as Pogo and Adventure Comics (#360 was a particular favorite) until their bindings barely held the pages together. Instead of participating in the local little league, he spent his days in the adventures and misadventures of his favorite comic book characters. He was, however, allowed to bowl. “And so I became a really good bowler,” Marc says, laughing. The heart murmur was later discovered to have been a misdiagnosis, but the foundation for a future in comics had been firmly set.

Deciding to pursue illustration, Marc looked to the School of Visual Arts in New York, founded in 1947 by Burne Hogarth, the artist on the Sunday Tarzan newspaper strip. It’s one of the oldest comic illustration schools, and once was nearly one of a kind. Now, says Marc about the art school, “there are millions.” He took a cartooning class from Harvey Kurtzman, the creator and editor of Mad Magazine, and its main writer for the first 28 issues. Studying at SVA introduced him to the industry and many of its leaders.

Right around the time Marc finished school, Xeroxing Zines exploded onto the market. These small, self-published (often stapled) magazines were the inspiration for the foundation of Wow Cool as a zine and comic book mail order distributor in 1988. In those days, Marc says, the gateway to success was Sassy Magazine. Each issue featured a cute band alert—and a focus on up and coming zines. If your zine was featured in Sassy, you might find close to a thousand teenage girls scrambling the next day to read it. “Sassy completely changed my world,” Marc says.

A short time later, he began working at Tundra Publishing with Mark Martin, the artistic director for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles co-creator Kevin Eastman. While at Tundra, Marc was nominated for the Eisner Award for his work on the Michael Kaluta Sketchbook. The Eisner is “the Emmy of the publishing world,” Marc says. It was not to be his last nomination. Others followed, and so did the wins.

Leaving Tundra in 1993, Marc returned to California, to work full-time at Wow Cool. But a few years of eating Top Ramen convinced him to shift his sights again, and this time he headed northward to Seattle and Fantagraphics, publisher of The Complete Peanuts, the entire five-decade run of the black and white strip, and Peanuts Every Sunday, a complete collection of the Sunday strip. During his time at Fantagraphics, Marc frequently ate at the Chinese restaurant just down the street, graduating from Top Ramen to sizzling rice soup. Meanwhile, a friend of his kept Wow Cool going.

Eventually, the restless spirit led him to advertising, where Marc says he learned the ins and outs of marketing and publishing from the perspective of professional print production. After advertising, he says, “I floundered around for a while and didn’t really know what to do. I thought I could make it with music—but I also knew all these artists.”

He did some freelancing and started selling rare books online, and then people started asking him to put their books out too. This was the tipping point, and Marc started to do what he thought he’d never do again. Coming full circle, Marc asked Jeff Mason, publisher of Alternative Comics, if he could be General Manager. And that was the move that led him to where he is today.

When I asked him what Wow Cool aims to be, Marc said he’d like it to be “a small community bookstore.” He provides comics not normally represented, no superhero stuff. Marc is proud that Wow Cool is one of the few places where the esoteric, the cutting-edge, work is out on the shelves. The mission of both Wow Cool and Alternative Comics is to keep such work available, he says, so that artists can continue to produce and so that their work can find an audience.

It’s been a long journey and a wild ride. “It’s almost as insane as it sounds,” Marc says, reflecting back on his life. “Weird, right?”

WOW COOL COMICS
21607B Stevens Creek Blvd
Cupertino, CA 95014
408.924.5164
facebook: wowcool
twitter: wowcool

Article originally appeared in Issue 6.4 Retro.

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