Tessie Barrera-Scharaga is an artist who makes connections: connections between language and culture, art and communities, the past and the present, and, most importantly, between people. Walking into her studio space, curious viewers quickly realize that this is one artist who is not limited to the canvas. Her work tables hold glass plates, ink, clay, brushes, and an assortment of paper, while books line the shelves and carefully placed pieces hang from the walls.
Tessie is primarily an installation artist, incorporating poetry, found objects, clay, prints, and rescued clothing into a cohesive statement. Her home, she mentions, is going through a long-awaited expansion. “I have never had the luxury of living with my art, like other artists do,” she muses, “because my work is very large and it is always in storage” – a common sacrifice of the large-scale installation artist. With the expansion of her Willow Glen home almost complete, Tessie is eager to realize her dream after more than fifteen years of boxes and storage spaces.
Walking through Tessie’s space, it is easy to forget you are in a home at all. The crisp lighting hits her piece titled “Lifeline,” casting shadows of the socks and dresses of a young girl encased in raw clay. Further into the room, her installation, “Coffee: The Malady of the Third World Dreaming,” looms – a metal framed bed with a pierced sack of coffee beans for a mattress, the beans spilling over the hardwood floors.
For a large portion of her career, Tessie worked as a graphic designer and returned to school to complete her BFA in Spatial Arts locally at San Jose State. She then continued on, receiving her MFA from Mills College. It was during and after this time that she not only honed her skills in ceramics and installation but also discovered a passion for teaching. After working with children at the San Jose Museum of Art, Tessie was dismayed to discover that her daughter was not receiving any art instruction in kindergarten. “Teaching was just a matter of a necessity for me,” she observes. “Your children force you to do things; you want them to have art and music, and that was a motivator for me. And through that, I affected other children and other families. To me, it is important to take care of the community that your children grow up in.”
Inspired to get involved, Tessie began volunteering in her daughter’s classroom. “During that time all the parents started noticing that this little classroom was getting art, but not the whole school, so they got together and talked to the principal – and the principal offered me a job as the art instructor,” she laughs. What began as one mother volunteering soon grew into a teaching role she enjoyed for the next fifteen years. “It started with a couple of grades, and through the years, we added more. To the point that when I left there, we had art throughout the entire school.”
“Art provides a space where you can dig into yourself, to bring out or to let go of your fear and to try different things. I see that happening with children here and in El Salvador. Art is also a place of joy, because children really enjoy being given attention and doing something with an adult. That’s really what’s most important and enjoyable for them. It validates their experience.”
Beyond her experience in her daughter’s school, Tessie has also created community art projects with several San Jose area schools and volunteered with underprivileged children in her family’s home in El Salvador. Some of this work has focused on helping to foster the children’s connections with their home language and their culture. “A lot of the students go to a school, and they learn a second language, but they don’t really know very much about the culture or the background.” Tessie’s work often incorporates and introduces literary figures from the Spanish-speaking world that children may have no other opportunities to experience – figures like Gabriel García Márquez, José Martínez Ruiz, and, her personal favorite, Pablo Neruda.
Tessie has also spent time in El Salvador volunteering alongside her mother in a local Catholic orphanage. “At first, when you give a class and you show them how to use the materials, they are very curious and can’t wait to try them. They want to smell it, touch it, they want to feel it – what is this thing? They get it in their fingers and want to put it on their face,” she says. These children have never seen a crayon or an oil pastel. “For the children in El Salvador in the orphanage, they have absolutely nothing else except what volunteers come and do with them. When I go, I bring all the materials, but…” Tessie adds, “You don’t have to go far to find children with nothing.”
Similarities and meanings present themselves to Tessie in the children’s art, both here and abroad. “Art provides a space where you can dig into yourself, to bring out or to let go of your fear and to try different things. I see that happening with children here and in El Salvador. Art is also a place of joy, because children really enjoy being given attention and doing something with an adult. That’s really what’s most important and enjoyable for them. It validates their experience.”
Working with these children and helping them to discover and develop these skills, Tessie is also able to bring in much of her own perspective as an artist. Her work explores sometimes difficult social and cultural issues and the important role of art in life. “At River Glen, we used to do a project with the fifth graders that was a peace mural, and it started right after 9-11. It involved designing an image that symbolized peace for them.” The children were invited to explore symbols of peace from the past, such as the olive branch and the peace sign, and come up with their own. “It was about creating peace in your classroom and in the playground, and thinking intently about it because it starts there. I tell my students – countries who don’t get along go to war, and if you can be the person that can create harmony, later on, you don’t know who you can become. You can be the President of the United States, and it all starts here in the classroom.”
It’s not all war and peace though, Tessie explains children here and abroad are very much the same and often ask her to teach them to draw a variety of things. “I have found that elementary and middle school students are very interested in nature. Animals and plants provide points of departure for many of our projects. Students learn to draw them, paint them, sculpt them in clay, transform them into mythological creatures, and even use visual language to show their concern regarding endangered species.” As the children grow, they also express interest in drawing figures – especially people in their families and communities.
So, what is next for this local artist? “I have been teaching at The Community School for Music and Art for the last year. Through them, I am still teaching children from underrepresented communities,” Tessie explains. She also currently has a piece titled “Twenty-Five: Chronicle of a Journey” featured in the Honoring Women’s Rights: Echoing Visual Voices Together show at The National Steinbeck Center in Salinas. Many San Jose residents will recognize the piece, which was previously shown in an empty storefront on 4th Street by Phantom Galleries in downtown San Jose.
https://www.tessbscharaga.com/
San Jose native, an award-winning Chilean-American Film Director based in New York, debuted his first solo art exhibition at @empire7studios.
My name is Danilo para. This is my first solo exhibition. It’s being held at Empire Seven galleries, and the show is called in limbo. I’m originally from San Jose. I went to Lincoln High School. I grew up here skateboarding with all the skateboard community, and eventually left to pursue a film career in New York, I dropped out of art school from San Francisco Academy of Art University, and then felt like, what am I going to do now?
So I had a friend that was already living in New York, and he had a job working at VICE doing documentaries. So I flew to New York and started working on documentaries, filming them, eventually executive producing some of them, and just traveled the world doing, you know, pursuing my career and pursuing filmmaking in New York.
New York is really a place where documentaries kind of like more of the film work. I guess I was looking for. I didn’t want to go to L.A.. L.A. felt like to, I don’t know if I was ready for Hollywood Life or reality TV life, because I feel like that’s what’s there. But New York offered kind of more of a run-and-gun style filmmaking that I liked, you know, because I grew up skateboarding, filming skate videos, and doing music videos for my brother and things like that. So it’s, I just liked being in charge of almost all the different aspects of it.
One of my earliest memories in childhood was a painting that my mom and my dad had on our wall in the living room. I always think about that painting because it showed kind of their love story, which obviously created me, created my brother. It’s beautiful to see your parents having creative outlets. And I guess the difference of a parent that’s just trying to raise a child stressfully and not pursuing their creative talents. I’m fortunate, I didn’t really have too much of that. Like, I feel like my mom was, she’s a Latin jazz singer, so she’s always pursuing her her career and what she really wanted to do.
I mean, my parents set me up on a, you know, performing arts schools. So in performing arts, you’re acting a little bit, you’re going, I’m in school plays, but there’s also art schools and art classes and painting, so I think I really just got in on and loving that. Because my mom would put my art on the fridge and put my art, you know, and then I started putting my art on the fridge, and then all over my room. And then I, when I finally had a car, I, you know, I stenciled my whole car. My whole car was graffitied and stenciled on like, I just couldn’t stop.
I don’t even think I knew anything. I just, I just, I had the passion to just constantly create, you know, I was addicted. At first, I thought I was addicted to the spray paint smell, but then I think I just liked making something and then making it for a friend and making my friend happy, you know, or making a skateboard for my friend, for my brother, for my brother’s CDs and my brother’s music.
So, yeah, I think I just it hit me hard. So I just wanted to keep pursuing visual arts, you know, and which kind of fell into visual storytelling, you know. And visual storytelling was more of what I wanted to do with my film career. And so when I finally kind of started taking paintings more seriously, I wanted to communicate visual stories like, what is the kind of world building, and what is the scene and the setting, and then what characters should be in that scene and setting, and what should they be doing, and create stories that kind of mean something deeper to me, which I feel like come from, you know, a filmmaking kind of storytelling brain, you know, because I do music videos, and sometimes you hear, you have a song come to you from an artist, and you have to think, what are the visuals and what’s the story, and how is, how you’re going to keep An audience to watch your whole music video, because some music videos are really boring. So I wanted, I want to tell a beginning, middle and end story that allows you to follow all the way to the end. I want people to make it to the end of the video. So I think I brought that into the paintings and kind of create a story that brings you in and keeps you there for a little bit, and makes you look around the painting and see like, you know what, what you might find, and you know you can have your own conclusions what the story will be, because it’s, it’s a painting. It’s not really there’s no audio. There’s no no one’s guiding you through it. You have to kind of guide yourself through the story.
Every painting is going to have a different contrast with colors. And I really, I’ve gravitated to vibrant colors. I used to film in the Museum of Modern Art, like profiles on some big artists like Joan Miró, and I remember going through one of the galleries, and he had one painting that was just so vibrant, and it stood out amongst all the other paintings, and it caught my attention. So I started to think. You know, sometimes you have to look around the world and the arts that you see and find what you like, you know, and that helps you understand what you want. So when I started taking painting more seriously, I kind of wanted to create these colors and this vibrancy that maybe would even relate to a film piece that I’m working on. What are the color schemes and and also finding ways to simplify the colors. Because I know when colors are everywhere and too much of them, it just starts to look like vomit. But when colors are simplified, they I think you’re able to be brought into the story easier. You know, you’re able to kind of latch on to what the story is about and yeah, simplify what people see.
Every painting is different. I don’t really have I don’t like painters that paint the same style of painting over and over again. I want every single painting to be something new that people would be excited and see the visual variety as something that they want to know what’s the next one going to be like, because that’s how I feel about it. I don’t know what the next one’s going to be like. And I want to be excited about every single one, and not treat these paintings like a factory that’s making what you want to see. I want to surprise you what you didn’t expect to see.
My first paintings were acrylic. They were also spray painting, spray painted, painting stencils. But I started to, well, my wife was somebody that said, “Why don’t you start oil painting?” And she got me a whole set of oil paints for Christmas, and it was one of the best gifts I’ve ever got. So I found really quickly that I love the way oils kind of create almost a simpler shading, you know, like that things smear together and become more smooth, and I feel like you could round out something that feels more three dimensional, with bringing the highlights to the shadows.
I just really liked how oils kind of felt like they came together better, you know. But I think I brought the acrylic kind of colors and vibrancy, because with oil, you have to layer and layer and layer to get that same vibrancy, because once you see the oils dry, it starts to desaturate a bit. So then I have to come back and how could I bring those colors back to maybe similar to what a acrylic, you know, paint would be.
I have a painting in this show. The show’s called “In Limbo,” and then my favorite painting in the show is called “A Limo in Limbo.” It’s a scene where a limo driver is driving all these businessmen in suits, and you could tell that something kind of shady is happening in the car, and you could see that there’s class differences between the people Inside the car and what’s happening outside the car. I painted that painting during the pandemic while living in New York, and a lot of the wealthy people left New York, and so what was left on the street were mostly homeless people looking for dollars in cash, and trashes were on fire. And all types of post-apocalyptic visuals are what I would see when I’d ride my bike around New York during that time because the city was empty. So I was trying to think, you know, what kind of class juxtaposition I could find in one painting and create a perspective where you could see everything happening all at the same time.
Danilo Parra’s first solo painting show, “In Limbo,” is on display from September 7, 2024, through October 5, 2024 at Empire Seven Studios. @danilorparra. 525 N7th St. Suite 10. San Jose, CA 95112
Interview Transcription Hi. My name is Kija Lucas. I’m an artist working in photography and installation, and my exhibition at the Palo Alto Art Center is The Enchanted Garden.
The Enchanted Garden was the name of my father’s gardening business. He had a gardening business when I was a kid, where my brothers and I would go with him to work on days that we had off from school, or either maybe if we were just a little bit sick but not so sick, we had to stay in bed, and we would go with him to work and weed in other people’s yards. Sometimes help him plant plants and go to the nursery with him, and then otherwise watched him laying sod or trimming trees or whatever he had to do in their yard.
So the exhibition is in several parts. There’s a large, I’ll call it a mural piece in 36 parts on the front windows of the Palo Alto Art Center. It’s about 20 by 13 feet, and it has both botanicals and trees that reminded me of Palo Alto, as well as other people who I asked who grew up here or spent time in Palo Alto.
The inside of the gallery, there’s an alcove that will have wallpaper that I designed with lemons that are both ripe and unripe, and then blossoms. I love the way that citrus is constantly in all different stages of growing in the bay. And then on top of that, will be images of rusty tools hung in ornate frames. The tools sort of are calling into the labor of like what it takes to make a garden.
Between the alcove and the glass gallery will be an altered map of Lawrence Lane, which is the cul-de-sac I grew up in and where my father’s house was. Lawrence Lane was an intentionally integrated street that was conceived in the late 40s and built in the 50s; in the height of redlining, there were black families, Asian families, and white families, and it kind of helped me as a mixed-race kid, to see families of other races and also other black families on our street.
Also, thinking about it, I always thought it was like such an ideal thing, and talking to my brother, who’s studying it for his dissertation, like I’m learning more about the respectability politics that go into creating an intentionally integrated community in that time, and also probably today, it was at the height of redlining. And so when the people who were involved in this, what they called an experiment, were going to the neighbors to ask their permission, and had to go to the city to ask permission to create this cul-de-sac.
And then, going into the glass gallery, there is on the walls the entire gallery, other than the brick, will be wrapped in also wallpaper that I designed, which will be transitioning through the room, kind of like a garden transition as you see different plants growing in different places. It gets a little bit thicker over time; certain plants are added, and others are taken away.
There’s a bit of a compulsion to organize in the way that I feel like humans often have this impulse, especially like this colonial impulse, to like organize nature, whether it be in our garden or whether it is in science books and the way that we study the other than human world.
And then, on top of that wallpaper will be botanicals that remind me of Lawrence Lane or of growing up in Palo Alto: the sour grass that I used to chew as a kid or a pine tree that I used to climb in my neighbor’s yard.
Lemons come up a lot in my work because it reminds me of sitting on my dad’s front porch when he would smoke when I was a kid. He smoked indoors until I was in the second grade and then moved out to the porch. So, if we wanted to spend time with him, it was out there.
I include both Indigenous and misplaced botanicals and trees because I feel like the way that we discuss botanicals is very similar to the way that we discuss groups of people. The idea of invasive and native, and not really thinking of how those botanicals arrived. Why they’re often maligned and so those are all sort of mixed together in the wallpaper, and then also on top of it.
I think The Enchanted Garden is, at the same time, the most personal work I’ve ever made, but also the most impersonal work at the same time; it’s so much digging into my own childhood, my own feelings about growing up in Palo Alto, about being in a place where I never felt like I fit, and being a place that had expectations of me that I didn’t understand existed until long after I could have possibly met them.
I like, that’s one of the other reasons why I was interested in bringing in the like, misplaced botanicals. I felt like, always like, I stuck out like a sore thumb here. I didn’t quite know how to act. I didn’t quite know or have the money to dress in order to fit in, or, like, wear the uniform of, like, the place. I was kind of a weird kid, which, as an artist, I appreciate that, and I feel like it’s fine, but it’s so uncomfortable growing up being like undiagnosed ADHD, like, not understanding why I don’t fit into, like, the academic expectations.
That’s another reason why I wanted to name the show Enchanted Garden; beyond, like, naming it after my dad’s business, I feel like an enchanted space is something that has a spell on it that makes you think it’s one thing. When you’re in it, then you realize maybe that it’s something else. And I felt like that was a really important thing to bring into it, because I feel like that kind of is how I feel about Palo Alto.
I’m trying to learn how to claim having grown up here, but a lot of times when people say, like, Oh, you’re from the Bay Area. Like, where did you grow up? I’ll say the South Peninsula because I feel like when I say Palo Alto, there’s an assumption about growing up in Silicon Valley. There’s an assumption that, like, my family was in tech, or like, you must be super wealthy, and that’s just not the way that I grew up. I grew up like, like I said, with my hands in the dirt, like digging weeds out of other people’s yards.
With my work, I’m bringing in things that are beautiful, like I want them to be, almost stunning to look at. I think of a photograph as a great place to lie, as a place to like, where we put our truths. So I have this sort of, I use a little bit of a scientific visual tropes, like using the black background, having something with so many details in it. I do not, I on purpose, do not use perfect specimens of everything. I want us to think about all of these things as being beautiful and useful.
But one of the things that I want to do with my work is to draw people in, so then we can have the more difficult conversation, like, how do we think about these plants, and how does that translate to how we think about people? How do we treat these botanicals, and how does that translate to how we treat other people? And where does that come from?
Like, the same scientists that were categorizing plants were categorizing people, and this like way of like, I’m reading this book right now where the author talks about how the most plant specimens from around the world are from Europe, where they don’t have the most plant specimens. And so, people who are from nations or lands where these plants are indigenous to might not be able to study them because they’re not there for them to study.
So I feel like, how did these botanicals also talk about migration? How do they talk about the way that people have been interacting with the land over the years? Especially since the bay or the US was colonized; that interaction with botanicals, the bringing of the eucalyptus, but also the olive tree, which is like this symbol of wealth, or the Magnolia, I was learning recently is also a symbol of wealth. They planted magnolia trees here, but they’re like, they take so much water to keep them alive, and but we do it, and it’s like this thing that says, like, okay, cool. I have enough money to keep this beautiful tree, which might be the oldest flower in the world, alive.
So all of those things are sort of in there, but I want to draw people in. I want your grandmother to be able to walk into the exhibition and be like, Okay, I can get something out of it. And your grandma might be, like, super into these political conversations, but maybe not. Maybe she sees something, and then she reads a little something and then thinks about the world a little bit differently. I’m not out here to like, I’m not an activist. I’m not out here to change the world, but I do want to give a space for people to maybe have a different perspective on things.
List of events related to GROW and The Enchanted Garden Exhibitions
Join Imara at Movimiento de Arte y Cultura Latino Americana (MACLA) on Friday, September 6, for the opening of her duo exhibition “Un Puente Sobre El Río San Juan: A Story of Borders,” Featuring work from her and San José-based artist Irene Carvajal—part of South First Fridays ArtWalk SJ.
Imara Osorno is a Nicaraguan-American multidisciplinary artist who paints, draws, and sculpts. She began her artistic studies at San Jose State University, where she delved into various materials, including clay, glassblowing, and metalsmithing.
Since moving to California at a young age, Osorno has returned to her birth country once as a child. Growing up in the US, Imara has faint memories of her time in Nicaragua and an interest in reconnecting with her Nicaraguan cultural roots. Her artwork explores themes of identity, immigration, and memory, often infused with a deep appreciation for mythology and storytelling.
Her upcoming exhibition, “Un Puente Sobre El Río San Juan: A Story of Borders,” explores the complex and often contentious relationship between the neighboring Nicaragua and Costa Rica. A collaborative effort with her former art professor, Irene Carvajal, each uses their cultural origins to untangle the overlooked conflict. Osorno was born in Nicaragua and Irene Carvajal was born in Costa Rica. The show’s title, “un Puente Sobre El Rio San Juan,” or “A Bridge Over the San Juan River,” symbolizes bridging divides between the countries—both literal and metaphorical. It will feature a blend of painting, printmaking, and performance art, offering a multi-dimensional exploration of what bonds, rather than separate, artists born in each country.
In this conversation, we discuss Imara’s artistic evolution, her upcoming exhibition, and the personal experiences that inform her work.
Under the light-strung trees of Mexican Heritage Plaza in East Side San José, the South Bay arts community celebrated the release of Content Magazine issue 16.4, “Profiles”, and 2024 Content Emerging Artists Esther Young and Elba Raquel. The August 22 Pick-Up Party was an event only San Jose could cultivate–a meeting point for diverse cultures, technological optimism, and a collective commitment to the community.
The School of Arts and Culture at Mexican Heritage Plaza hosted a living issue of Content Magazine with nearly all 29 featured creatives in attendance. Starting at 6:30 p.m., guests and featured artists mingled. DJ Hen Boogie kicked off the party with his genre-blending beats. Artists from the issue shared their prints, fashion, writings, and music. Guests could even take home dried sage to plant. The plaza’s indoor gallery was activated with support from Works/San José and exhibited photography, mixed media, and sculptural works directly from the magazines’ pages.
Even the food and drink at the party reflected the South Bay’s creative diversity. Mama Roc’s Kitchen brought a variety of Puerto Rican flavors, and Sushi Roku Palo Alto offered a sampling of their high-quality rolls and sashimi. Goodtime Bar, located at Fountain Alley in Downtown San Jose, also popped up and had a selection of local natural wines for guests to taste.
As the sun set, a crowd gathered to watch a belly dancing performance from House of Inanna. Afterward, The Cultivator of Content Magazine, Daniel Garcia, stepped up to the stage to announce the recipients of Content’s 2024 Emerging Artist Award. Musician Esther Young and painter Elba Raquel accepted their awards, each designed by Local Artist Joe Miller, to camera flash and applause. The Content Emerging Artist Award recognizes early-career artists and provides $5,000 in unrestricted funding to support their creative work. After accepting her award, Young took to the stage, opening her set with an ethereal cover of Adrienne Lenker’s ‘Anything.’
The party provided a space for artists to forge connections and set the foundation for future collaboration. The School of Arts and Culture at Mexican Heritage Plaza is a communal hub for celebration, organization, and art. In that way, the atmosphere reflected Content’s mission–both open and intimate, a true celebration of San Jose’s community and its commitment to the arts.
Join Content Magazine for Pick-Up Party 17.1, “Discover,” on Friday, November 22, at The Santa Clara County Fairground Fiesta Hall. The night is produced in partnership with San Jose-based 1Culture Gallery and will be a showcase for street art and culture in the South Bay.
Exploring the intersection of reflection and light, attraction and repulsion, and the soft and raw power of feminine forms.
Pink is a loaded color for Stephanie Metz, a San Jose–based sculptor whose artwork often grows out of her desire to explore meaning in the everyday things around her. She remembers going to toy stores as a little girl and resenting all the pink, girly toys she saw. She explains, “Pink always seemed like it was derogatory or diminutive—like a way to make something overly cute and helpless. I felt like that was so often paired with ideas of femininity, and I just didn’t like that as a little kid.”
Over the years, though, Stephanie’s relationships with many things—including art, sculpting, femininity, and the color pink—has changed. “I remember I was taking a walk with my dog, and we came across a bougainvillea bush that was so intense,” she says. “I stood up really close to it, and I was so overwhelmed by it. But it also occurred to me that what I was actually experiencing was the light reflecting off of those bright pink flowers.”
This experience inspired Stephanie to experiment with placing bright pink pigment against stark white walls to see if she could elicit any reflections. She then developed a series of hand-stitched felt panel sculptures that play with the concept of bounced light. For each piece, viewers think they’re seeing a bit of pink-tinted felt. What they’re actually seeing is the reflection of hidden fluorescent pink paint off of white felt. “I love the fact that the pieces make you think of the effect. What does it even mean to see that bright pink?” Stephanie muses. Throughout this project, the more that she thought of pink, the more it felt to her like a strong and decisive color that could be reclaimed for its strength.
Another of the color’s strengths comes to Stephanie in a more subliminal form. In various projects, Stephanie plays with the idea of push-and-pull. For instance, she has made sculptures that pair wool felt with porcupine quills. The soft warmth of the felt draws the viewer in, but the danger of the quill spikes pushes them back. She also works with silver metal mesh, which gives her sculptures a snaky effect that’s both threatening and entrancing. “I love dancing in the middle between drawing you in and repulsing you,” Stephanie says. “The color pink has become that for me. The more I play with different tones of really bright pink, the more I love them and the more I am overwhelmed by them.” It was this dance between reflection and light, pushing and pulling, love and overwhelm that Stephanie decided to explore more when she was offered a solo show at the Triton Museum of Art.
Stephanie has been a sculptor most of her life, and her work has been featured all over the world—from touring exhibition across Europe and Australia to the Rijswijk Textile Biennial in the Netherlands, the Institute of Contemporary Arts Singapore, and the San Jose Museum of Quilts and Textiles. In 2020, she had a solo show at the de Saisset Museum at Santa Clara University called Stephanie Metz: InTouch, which featured large, touchable felt sculptures that she’d spent over two years creating. Stephanie’s new show, In the Glow, will run from September 14 through December 29, 2024, at the Triton Museum of Art, a Santa Clara–based contemporary art museum that seeks to enhance critical and creative thinking through art. The exhibit, which took her 14 months to create, will feature a single, gigantic centerpiece and several additional supporting sculptures, all of which play with reflecting color and light.
Stephanie views her artistic practice as an extension of her experiences observing the world and learning from it. When designing for In the Glow, Stephanie wanted to push herself to try things she had never done before. “I really wanted to challenge myself to make a large-scale exploration,” she explains. “To experience a sculpture, you have to move around it with a human body. And the larger the piece, the more you have to be aware of your physical relationship with it.” This was a challenge that Stephanie met head-on: the central piece will be a 16-foot-tall and 20-foot-wide sculpture made of pieces of white industrial felt meticulously stitched together. The sculpture will hang like a multidimensional curtain of writhing, body-like, and serpentine forms. A neon-pink wall will stand about 10 feet behind the curtain and reflect the light of the room onto the white felt. Viewers will have the opportunity to walk around the sculpture, immersing themselves in a pink, glowing space.
Size is not the only boundary Stephanie hopes to push with this piece. Stephanie feels that a lot of her work is already perceived as “feminine,” and she wants to examine the full spectrum of what feminine and female forms can mean. “I’ve been in a female-identified body all my life,” Stephanie explains. “I’ve had children. I’ve had a miscarriage. I’ve had all these life experiences. With the female body, it feels culturally okay to share certain experiences, but other things are hidden away.”
Stark among these experiences for Stephanie was having children and the changes to her body that she did not anticipate. “It would have made me feel a lot more sane to have been warned of some of the more uncomfortable, grotesque, and fascinating parts of what a body goes through,” she reflects. This pushing between the pretty and the grotesque, the attracting and repelling, the familiar and unfamiliar, is part of what Stephanie wants to evoke from this piece. She explains, “I wanted to focus on the strength and the raw power of feminine forms, but also leave space for the idea of soft power—like leading through cooperation and collaboration as opposed to leading with force.”
For a long time, Stephanie didn’t feel comfortable talking about the feminist aspect of her art because of the pushback. Now, though, she’s trying to be more vocal, without being heavy-handed, so she can raise awareness for a range of experiences and realities. Even the monumental size of the central sculpture plays into Stephanie’s relationship with womanhood and speaking out. “I’m really excited to blow these forms up to be huge and really take up space,” she says, “because that’s one of the things that has always been an issue for me as a woman. I’m always aware of everybody else’s space and trying to make sure they have what they need, but sometimes at the expense of myself.” Stephanie continues to play with the idea of femininity with the smaller freestanding sculptures and wall pieces also included in the exhibit. “Some of the pieces are playing with these organic and intriguing forms. They’re almost menacing because they look kind of familiar but are also mysterious,” she says.
Playing into this element of mystery is the fact that Stephanie is not positive what her pieces will look like in their final form—particularly the show’s centerpiece, since a lot of science and engineering go into making a free-hanging sculpture. “In the Glow is very experimental for me, which is exciting,” Stephanie says. “I keep repeating to myself that I am making something that has never existed before. No one can tell me if it is right or wrong. This project is going to be what it is. And that’s really freeing.” The opening reception for In the Glow will take place on September 28 from 2pm to 4pm at the Triton Museum of Art in Santa Clara.
Much like releasing the need to control the final physical form of her sculptures, Stephanie has also embraced the idea that different people will have different responses to her art. She says, “People can be uncomfortable with abstract forms because they want to know what something is supposed to be. You can have whatever reaction to these pieces you want. There is no right or wrong in what you see or how you respond to it. I hope people will find what resonates with them.” To Stephanie, art comes back to this very concept—that it is all about making connections and finding meaning in one’s own life. She concludes, “The highest sort of thing art can do is make me feel connected to other people or ideas. I love finding kindred spirits through my art. It makes me feel like maybe I’m not so alone in the world.”
Santa Clara, 8/26/24– The Triton Museum of Art presents Stephanie Metz: In the Glow, an exhibition debuting a series of evocative fiber sculptures. Wool felt and body-like forms combined with reflected color explore themes of soft power, aesthetic perception, and the paradoxes of female life.
The free-standing and wall-mounted sculptures and immersive installation transcend stereotypical notions of textile art as decorative and domestic. Metz uses a nuanced abstract visual language to allude to the contradictions of a woman’s experiences— vulnerability and resilience, internal and external perceptions, and working within and against gender biases and expectations. The felt material used to make the sculptures reflect these contradictions, embodying both the tender and the tough by being supple yet durable.
Sculpted from wool fibers compressed into freestanding dense shapes or sutured from pieces of thick, smooth industrial felt, Metz’s visceral organic forms incorporate carefully placed pink pigment. Pink, a color loaded with cultural and symbolic significance, highlights both conformity and resistance to gender binaries. Optical interactions between the white sculptures and reflected pink light reveal lines and contours and draw attention to the very act of seeing color.
A monumental stitched industrial felt sculpture at the center of the gallery invites visitors to immerse themselves ‘inside the glow’ created between the 16- by- 20- foot ‘curtain’ of undulating abstracted figurative forms and a wall of fluorescent pink paint. Stephanie Metz: In the Glow expands conventional definitions of the feminine and explores how edgy softness can hold space, command presence, and provoke thought.
The exhibition will be on view from September 14 to December 29, with an opening reception on Saturday, September 28 from 2 – 4pm.
At the center of Needle to the Groove Records lie four friends whose bonds have been strengthened in the pursuit of amplifying art. “Don’t put any of our jokes on the record,” cautions Allen Johnson.
“Unless they land,” chimes David Ma. The witty banter among Johnson, Ma, Michael Boado, and Jeff Brummett reveals the camaraderie on which the Needle to the Groove (NTTG) label has been built.
“That’s what our vision was from the jump: Let’s find [music] we like. Let’s get it out there. Let’s not be too stressed on [asking] ‘Did it sell out?’ ” explains Johnson. Their business dealings remain casual, as they’re far more likely to talk shop over a bottle of Jameson than to call for a formal meeting. Grounded in a shared desire to not let the business of records ruin their friendships, they’ve developed a broad musical catalog that stands as a testament to the great musical diversity found throughout the Bay Area.
“You can’t pigeonhole us, that’s for sure,” explains Boado, “and we want to keep that going.”
Collectively, the label partners carry deep connections in numerous music scenes. Johnson and Boado run NTTG’s downtown San Jose record shop (Dan Bernal, owner of NTTG’s Fremont location, is a silent label partner). Boado, a fixture in the local club scene known as DJ Basura, is a partner at The Ritz in downtown San Jose. Ma is a renowned music journalist who recently began teaching a hip-hop history course at San Jose State University. Brummett has been a musical mainstay, contributing to numerous local bands over the years.
“It’s a crazy feeling when someone that I don’t recognize walks in and asks for something specifically on the label. I’m just blown away.”
Allen Johnson
Soon after opening NTTG’s downtown San Jose location, Johnson and Boado wanted to branch out. “There was an appeal to do something that had a higher ceiling and could correspond with the shop,” recalls Johnson. In the early 2000s, he ran Birthwrite Records out of his apartment while living in Chicago, and he remembers the struggle of selling releases without a true place of business. After reading about the history of Stax Records, which started when the now legendary label opened a recording studio in the back of a record shop, he saw how their storefront could double as label headquarters, offering visibility for their efforts.
Since 2016, NTTG has released nearly 40 titles of varying formats and styles. There are the overlooked gems: cassette-only releases like Kiri’s ambient Practice Bird Heads and the Apatheater EP, a collaboration between DJ Platurn and rapper Edgewize. There’s the unexpected home run: Prince Paul and Don Newkirk’s By Every Means Necessary, Vol. 1, the soundtrack to a Netflix documentary on Malcolm X. There’s the rising creative voices of Modesto Latin rockers Valley Wolf, and Bay Area-based beatmakers Mild Monk and mint.beats. Diamond Ortiz, the most-released artist on the label, is a g-funk diehard and master of the talk box.
“Our eclectic tastes are represented in the artists [we support],” notes Brummett. “I think we’re kind of celebrating our differences.” The imprint’s musical variance has become their hallmark. Ma states their hope is for the label to be trusted by listeners, no matter the release. “Hopefully [the label logo] becomes like a seal of excellence,” he says.
“I think we want to be there for the deviations,” adds Brummett, highlighting how much the label believes in letting artists be themselves. “Strange Things” by producer and songwriter B. Lewis is arguably the most mellow track in his discography, while “Jaan e Jaan” by Aki Kumar adds a dash of dusty Bollywood funk to Kumar’s otherwise blues-centric persona.
While all four stress that the label is a labor of love, they also view their work as a distinct privilege that lets them shed light on the efforts of unsung creators. It’s a point that hits home for Brummett, since numerous friends and fellow musicians have found an outlet in NTTG and its offshoot label, Slow Thrive, which releases projects from DIY bedroom artists and under-the-radar bands.
“Those are the guys that mean the most to me because they obviously care. If you are not getting any attention or money, and you’ve been doing it for 15 years, this must mean a lot to you,” he shares. “We get to curate that to the world.”
Next year, the label plans to roll out Valley Wolf’s long-awaited full-length debut, which features sessions produced by Chicano Batman’s Eduardo Arenas. It will also be time for Johnson to step back into the limelight as a creator. He’s set to release Starduster, an EP from legendary rapper Casual, featuring beats from Johnson under his alias, Albert Jenkins.
The label may still have plenty of work on the horizon, but that doesn’t prevent Johnson from stepping back and feeling a great sense of pride every time they sell one of their titles at the shop. “It’s a crazy feeling when someone who I don’t recognize walks in and asks for something specifically on the label,” he shares. “I’m just blown away.”
Each year since 2018, the City of San José’s Office of Cultural Affairs has selected a number of artists in a variety of disciplines to be named creative ambassadors. These artists all have deep roots in the city and have shown creative inspiration in their fields, as well as a passion for connecting with the local community through their art.
The role of the creative ambassadors is “to champion the power of creative expression and engage members of the public in finding their creative voice.” They serve for one year and are given the opportunity to create public projects whose aim is to bring together members of the community as active participants in art. They also serve as a voice of the city’s cultural vibrance by engaging on social media and participating in person in a variety of city events through media interviews and elsewhere.
We are please to announce the City of San Jose 2025 Creative Ambassador Applications are now open. More information and application at: https://bit.ly/SJCreatives2025app
2024 Ambassadors
Alice Hur
Dancer Alice Hur is the creator of the grassroots event series Waack, Crackle, Lock!, which takes place in Oakland and San Jose and features waacking, a dance style that evolved from punking and incorporates dramatic poses, storytelling, and rapid arm movements synchronized to disco beats. Highly active in the street dance community, Hur has participated in battles throughout North America.
“Dance should be for everyone. Creating partnerships and highlighting waacking through these channels can help broaden the audience for this art form.” -Alice Hur
Pantea Karimi
Iranian-American multidisciplinary artist Pantea Karimi’s work explores the history of medicinal botany and geometry using virtual reality, performative video, animation, sound, print, drawing, and installation. Her works have been exhibited internationally, and she has received numerous awards and residencies throughout her career.
“Empathy is crucial in understanding different viewpoints and building strong relationships within the community.” -Pantea Karimi
Deborah Kennedy
Deborah Kennedy is an artist and author who communicates complex social and environmental themes with her intricately crafted, conceptually based installations, books, and performances. She brings visual drama and compelling experiences to viewers in galleries, museums, and public spaces.
“Art is a way for us to process and advance our emotions and understanding of ourselves and our increasingly complex and challenging times. Our community can use all the poetry and art we can make available!” -Deborah Kennedy
Rayos Magos
Mixed-media artist Rayos Magos uses symbolism in his work as a way of exploring the personal, spiritual, and communal elements of the human experience, tackling topics of mental health, social justice, and self-representation through collage, printmaking, painting, sculpture, and storytelling.
“I believe that in those moments of cultural exchange, art becomes a powerful vehicle for connection and communication. I feel that art acts as a bridge to connect us with each other, especially when we don’t speak the same language.” -Rayos Magos
Yosimar Reyes
Yosimar Reyes is an acclaimed poet, public speaker, and independent artist whose work looks at themes of migration and sexuality while celebrating and honoring elders and attempting to further intergenerational connections within our communities.
“I [hope] to align my vision for a world where immigrant labor, immigrant voices, immigrant lives, and immigrant contributions are recognized as integral parts of the city.” -Yosimar Reyes
*The article originally appeared in issue 5.1, “Sight and Sound,” 2013
From his 90s exploits at Ajax to the more recent Naglee Park Garage, Chris Esparza’s impact on downtown San Jose has come in many phases. He looks to take his next step with Blackbird Tavern.
Long-time downtown ambassador Chris Esparza remains one of the most connected people in San Jose. He’s built his Rolodex organically after having a hand in several local ventures past and present, among them Ajax, Naglee Park Garage, Giant Creative, Fuel, and soon-to-open Blackbird Tavern.
Though a local, Esparza was never able to call one particular neighborhood home growing up. Attending five different schools over seven years, including a two-year stint up in Auburn, California, the frequent moves never allowed him to settle in. “It was five years of never knowing where my class was, of being new and uncomfortable,” Esparza recalls. “In a lot of ways, that probably led me to producing events and hosting people.”
After graduating from Gunderson High in 1985, Esparza spent time at both West Valley and De Anza College, though he admits he had no direction at the time. A year later, he got a job working at Santa Clara club One Step Beyond. It proved to be the job that changed his life.
“It was my first exposure to the young twenty- and thirtysomething alternative life—the goths, the skinheads, the mods, the punk rockers, the death rockers, and everything in between,” he remembers. He saw the club present everything from metal to English soul and rockabilly, witnessing sets from The Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Ramones, Megadeth, and Fishbone. The work inspired him to move to San Francisco, where he worked for two years.
However, when his mother passed away, he felt a need to get away. “I took the opportunity to be somewhere else at Christmas time,” he says. Buying a one-way ticket to Europe, he traveled through Spain, Belgium, and Scotland, picking up work wherever he could. Upon his return, he decided he wanted his own club.
In 1991, Esparza and business partner Chris Elliman opened Ajax. During its mythical four-year run, the venue hosted the likes of The Fugees, The Roots, and Ben Harper, establishing itself as a destination for forward-thinking cool. It attracted all pockets of the downtown scene during San Jose’s “Four Corners,” 90s nightlife heyday. Esparza admits he was the social creature of the group. “In a way, I was a natural doorman,” he says. “I liked greeting people, getting them excited about what we were doing, and telling them when to come back.”
Looking back, Esparza sees his Ajax period as a time when he and Elliman could seemingly do no wrong. Arriving at a time when the area was just starting to become Silicon Valley, the low cost of living fostered plenty of nightlife. Ajax was championed by local creatives. “I think they trusted us to curate night after night,” he says. “We said, ‘Look, I know you’ve never heard of Ben Harper, and no one else has either, but we heard this guy’s cassette tape, and I’m telling you, don’t miss this.’ And they would show up.”
Sadly, the club’s four-year run came to a close after negotiations with the space’s owners fell through. Esparza was effectively locked out, with the space maintained by the owners. In nine months, the space was vacant.
Two years after the demise of Ajax, Esparza and a similar cast of partners returned with Fuel, an international café in the current Blank Club space. It showcased a similar vibe, though it wasn’t exclusively a club. “It was for an adult that wanted a beautiful space that wasn’t as easily defined as a café or nightclub or restaurant,” Esparza says. “It was literally all of those things.” Boasting a painted globe on the ceiling, it was conceived from the ground up and seemed primed to tap into the same crowd that made Ajax such a success. Yet, where Ajax could do no wrong, Fuel’s four-year run was mired in constant, needless self-reflection. The message was the same, but somehow, the crowds had dried up.
After coming back to the fold with much more business savvy than he had at Ajax, Esparza struggled to understand why Fuel was failing. “It was a business learning experience,” he says. “You can be good, and you can be the smartest guy on the block, but if you don’t have a little bit of luck and timing on your side, it doesn’t matter who you are.”
“YOU CAN BE GOOD AND YOU CAN BE THE SMARTEST GUY ON THE BLOCK, BUT IF YOU DON’T HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF LUCK AND TIMING ON YOUR SIDE, IT DOESN’T MATTER WHO YOU ARE.”
-Chirs Esparza
In retrospect, Esparza ties in the trouble with the economy. In conjunction with the tech boom, rent skyrocketed, stealing spending money from the venue’s target audience of local creatives. At the same time, the steady rise of illegal downloading significantly changed how artists toured. Suddenly, a $300 show became a $3,000 show, and Fuel couldn’t keep up with the discrepancies. It closed its doors in 2001, an unsung gem that was never able to find its niche like Ajax so easily had.
During his days at Fuel, Esparza began to be approached by organizations to serve as a creative consultant, leading to the creation of Giant Creative. Going twelve years strong, Giant is now responsible for KraftBrew, Winter Wonderland, and the Great Glass Pumpkin Patch in Palo Alto. The outlet became a necessity when Fuel was struggling. It’s since become his main gig, allowing him to help anyone from small businesses to the city of San Jose.
In the restaurant realm, Naglee Park Garage has been Esparza’s latest success. He lovingly calls the 30-seat bistro “the tiniest restaurant on the face of the Earth.” Despite its limitations, he, business partner Brendan Rawson, and head chef Louis Silva have made it a signature downtown eatery.
After the space, a former service station, suffered a series of failed business ventures, its owners decided to wait until the right offer came around. They were envisioning an Americana-themed restaurant with a great selection of beer and wine. As luck would have it, that was exactly what Esparza, Rawson, and Silva were looking to pitch. Luck returned years later when Guy Fieri’s Food Network show “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” called. Their segment led to national exposure, and repeat showings now result in a spike of emails requesting the location’s fabled ketchup recipe.
Still, Esparza sometimes has trouble making sense of their subsequent success. The show didn’t change their formula; it only got the word out. As he maintains, “We were great before ‘Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.’ Why does it take national television to tell you to go eat there when you live in this town, and there aren’t many choices?”
Yet even with his string of successes, his best conception may have yet to officially begin. Esparza and Rawson are ready to bring their savvy to downtown’s epicenter with Blackbird Tavern, a restaurant and café located along Paseo de San Antonio that looks to appeal to out-of-town business folk and locals alike. Much like Ajax and Fuel, he wants the venue to offer great food, music, and conversation for patrons.
Patio seating is set to spill out onto the Paseo. Plans are in place to serve wine from vineyards in the Santa Cruz mountains, and their bar will offer a well-curated selection of craft brews and California spirits. Esparza even hopes to pair food with music. For him, the value in the idea goes both ways—patrons get an all-encompassing dining experience and those behind the scenes remain on their creative toes.
Some speak of the Blackbird space as cursed, the speculation stemming from a string of franchise failures over the past decade. To counter the talk, Esparza offers a history lesson, noting that a taqueria lasted in the space for twenty years, making it through massive downtown light rail development before those three failed. He attributes the failures to bad business strategies. “I know why they closed and I know what they did wrong,” he says. “I won’t make those mistakes.”
A lot has changed since his first days working at One Step Beyond in the mid-80s, when he discovered a wealth of alternative culture. He’s learned plenty in the process, but what rings loudest for him remains the people he’s helped bring together. As a teen who constantly struggled to find his place, Esparza finds comfort in the fact that he’s been able to create spaces where others can find theirs.
The article originally appeared in issue 5.1, “Sight and Sound,” 2013
*We post this with a heavy heart at the passing of my friend, mentor, and fellow progenitor of culture, Chris Esparza. Content Magazine and I personally have received so much from the friendships and connections that Chris created. I will miss him. We will miss him. But the world, and especially Downtown San Jose, is better because of his life and work. We respect and thank him, say goodbye, and rest in peace, my dear friend.
Experience J.Duh’s first solo gallery exhibition, ‘Starting Fires,’ from August 10 to September 7 at Empire Seven Studios in San Jose, Japan Town. The opening reception is on Saturday, August 10, from 6 to 9 p.m., featuring music from Flipside Lovers and DJ nic0tine.
Navigating Art and Advertising: A Conversation with Jorge ‘J.DUH’ Camacho.
J.Duh’s journey through art and advertising is a tale of creative evolution. Having made significant strides in both fields, he reflects on his experiences as a student of the Academy at GS&P in San Francisco. This program, created by the renowned advertising agency Goodby Silverstein & Partners, helped shape his artistic and professional outlook. J.Duh recounts how he discovered the program through his connections in art and the application process, which included answering thought-provoking questions such as explaining social media platforms to grandparents.
This experience was about learning the technical aspects of advertising and refining his storytelling and design skills. J.Duh credits the program with sharpening his ability to think critically about his work and enhancing his problem-solving skills, which he has carried into his art practice. He discusses the challenges of balancing creative vision with commercial demands and the blurred lines between fine art and commercial art, emphasizing the importance of maintaining creative freedom while navigating the commercial aspects of his work.
J.Duh’s approach to art creation emphasizes the value of following initial ideas and the importance of technique and craftsmanship. The influences behind his work stem from an interest in DIY South Bay street culture that involves skateboarding, punk rock shows, and graffiti, which inspired interest in lettering, sign painting, murals, and brand design. J.Duh’s recent projects have included jersey designs for the Sharks Foundation and numerous murals and signs throughout the region.
When thinking back on his Journey, J.Duh touches upon the emotional and practical aspects of their creative endeavors, including the challenges and rewards of pursuing an art career. He highlights the significance of networking and relationship-building within the art community, which can be crucial for career advancement and personal growth. J. Duh describes South Bay as vibrant and community-driven, slept-on, but with massive potential for growth that requires support for local artists and the fostering of a dynamic creative environment.
J.Duh talks about the commercial projects that have offered artistic opportunities and how personal projects, such as his solo exhibition “Starting Fires,” allow for deeper creative exploration. The exhibition, featuring interactive matchbook artworks inspired by fictitious businesses and musicians, exemplifies how art can engage audiences in multifaceted ways.
In this conversation, J.Duh shares the inspiration for his upcoming solo exhibition ‘Starting Fires,’ his views on the intersection of art and advertising, and how those two worlds have come in contact throughout his career to shape his views of the broader creative landscape of the South Bay.
Follow Jorge ‘J.Duh’ Camacho on Instagram @j.duh and visit their website at jduhdesigns.com.
West Valley College believes in the power of a well-rounded education to shape a future that extends beyond the classroom. Each year, graduating students have the opportunity to showcase their capstone work—a testament to their growth and achievements—to peers, instructors, and the community. In the third year of the Cilker School of Art and Design’s EXPO, they have expanded the event’s reach to celebrate the dynamic relationship between art and design and science and math. The inaugural three-day STEAMD (Science, Technology, Engineering, Art, Math, & Design) Fest will create a platform that ignites interdisciplinary collaboration between students and faculty, reinforcing the essential symbiotic relationships between disciplines.
We also feature three notable students from the various disciplines of the Cilker School of Art and Design as they move forward in their craft and careers.
Joel Hangai Music Education
More than just being a student who is passionate about music, Joel Hangai is dedicated to helping others. Growing up, Hangai learned any instrument he could get his hands on. He put in many hours of work every day to become a more knowledgeable and capable instrumentalist. When he was unsure of where to go with his talents, West Valley College asked him to become a peer tutor for music majors. He fell in love with sharing his passion with others. Hangai has since delved into music education, teaching all types of students across the Bay Area. He hopes to one day become a music professor. No matter what, he will always find a way to keep music a part of his life.
Shraddha Karalkar was raised in India’s colorful and creative environment, a country of rich culture, wellness, and spiritual wisdom that shaped her views on critical thinking and aesthetics. Immigrating to the United States after earning multiple degrees in pharmaceutical science was challenging. In the fall of 2021, she enrolled at West Valley College. She was drawn to the thoughtful design of creative spaces after noticing how design elements could impact the moods and actions of others. Her interior design courses fueled her passion and led her to become a LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) Green Associate.
Since then, she has won multiple student design competitions held by the International Interior Design Association (IIDA) and received a Design Excellence Award from the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID). Shraddha is continuing her journey towards excellence in the field of interior design.
Joshua Cruz began his journey in fashion with a high school graphic design course, where he made designs for classmates. He was motivated by creating cool things and the hope that his work could inspire others to create and share artwork of their own.
Born and raised in Mexico, Cruz is inspired by his childhood. He experienced the realities of growing up in a poor and dangerous neighborhood, surrounded by graffiti, dirty sidewalks, walls with bullet holes, and cartel members on the corner. Cruz uses that imagery as inspiration and hopes to show the beauty behind what could be viewed as chaos. His fashion designs include a variety silhouettes, textures, and fabrics to represent a multitude of lives—lives which may seem unbearable to some. His goal is to mix art and fashion to create a combination that inspires others.
Enter Fitoor, Santana Row’s new contemporary Indian restaurant and lounge, and find yourself transported. The front room, a low-lit space swathed in dark-wood panels, rich earthy browns, and a plethora of plants, somehow gives the impression of a forest after midnight. The slat ceiling, carved into a wave of wood, seems almost to ripple with movement. A fire dancer mimics this motion, twirling flames in both hands as she sways to the music. When owners Anu and Vikram Bhambri, a husband-and-wife team, say they want their meals “presented in a lively and immersive setting,” they don’t mess around.
The goal, Anu explains, is “immersing guests in a sensory journey.” To achieve this, the couple collaborated with Manu Studios, the architecture firm behind MOMENT SP2 (those micro-retail storefronts across from San Pedro Square). “Each dining room offers a unique experience,” continues Anu, “from the inviting open-air facade to the sultry ‘Gold Room’ and intimate ‘Green Room.’” This suits the restaurant’s name, inspired by the Hindi word for “passion.” It’s a title that “embodies the fiery energy and soulful essence of modern-day India,” Anu shares.
But what is a restaurant without its food? Fitoor is so much more than a pretty face, and Chef Vaibhav Sawant takes obvious pride in his craft, creating appetizers and entrees that are intricately layered and immaculately plated. Each dish is served on a unique plate: cerulean serving platters, tree round boards, or pedestal trays with marble.
He’s also a maestro of texture. The Asado Branzino with coriander mint pesto is generously topped with salli (deep-fried potato straws), which, along with the crackle of the fish’s skin, adds a crunch to the buttery soft meat. There’s also a standout Indian-Japanese fusion dish that takes supple scallops in a peanut butter salan curry and embellishes them with the crunch of finely chopped onion, finely chopped nuts, and the pop of fresh roe.
“Specializing in grilled dishes infused with fiery energy and bold spices, Fitoor’s menu is designed to ignite culinary curiosity,” adds Anu. That means feisty flavors like spicy prawn balchão stuffed in fried kulcha bread and peppery lamb curry with coconut flakes and curry leaves. For some respite from the hotter dishes, the restaurant offers some creamy (and pleasingly unusual) cocktails like the Canchanchara (rum, gardenia mix, citrus, and black garlic) and the Milky Way (bourbon, port, banana, lemon, and cream cheese).
As for the sweet story behind Fitoor’s restaurateur power couple? Anu met Vikram through her parents while she was still living in India and he was working in the U.S. at Microsoft.“We talked on the phone without seeing each other for over six months before we actually met,” Anu recalls. The two became a force to be reckoned with, united in their shared dream to bring authentic Indian cuisine to the States. They now oversee a restaurant empire that also includes ROOH (which now has several locations), Pippal in Emeryville, and Alora on San Francisco’s Waterfront. Yet despite their success, the couple remain grounded, prioritizing family time by gathering around the dinner table.“Mealtime is generally family time at home,” Anu says. “We have three generations living together in the same house.” With warmth, she describes her mom making dishes while grandma makes bread in the tandoor. “During summer, it is accompanied by salted lassi or a raw mango (panna) drink to cool down the heat,” she says.
Anu and Vikram’s international concept is well suited for a place like Santana Row. “It’s a melting pot of diverse cultures and tastes,” Anu says of the area. Here, “people appreciate culinary innovation and cultural exploration.” A quick glance around the room at contented guests licking the last of the 72-hour pana cotta from their plates leaves no doubt—these seasoned restauranteurs know how to seek out the like-minded.
Zoë Latzer is the Curator and Director of Public Programs at the Institute of Contemporary Art San José (ICA San José).
Growing up in Loomis, California, on the outskirts of Sacramento, Latzer became familiar with the concept of underrepresented narratives. Specifically, she became familiar with Loomis’ history with Chinese workers and a Chinatown that no longer exists. That experience with lesser-known history, her lifestyle, which includes practices from the Vedic cultures of India, and her passion for art history are all infused in her curatorial practices.
In primary school, Latzer received a Waldorf education focused on integrating art with interdisciplinary learning. Latzer later received a Bachelor of Arts in History of Art and Visual Culture from UC Santa Cruz and studied abroad at Sotheby’s Institute of Art in London. These experiences were foundational in her understanding of art in relation to culture and society and its potential for social commentary and reckoning with the past. Latzer also recalls visiting Michelangelo’s sculpture of David while visiting Florence, Italy, with family as a formative moment in her understanding of art history. That visit taught her the power and sublime quality art can have on culture through aesthetics and architecture.
Latzer’s curatorial practice involves world-building by installing immersive exhibitions that provide audiences with sensory experiences. Her approach is influenced by an openness gained from practicing Ayurveda and Yoga, sister sciences from the Vedic Culture of India related to tuning into one’s environment. That approach to well-being is reflected in curation that balances empathetic conversation and art history. Latzer tries to step out of the dichotomy of “I know” and “I don’t know” when approaching art, instead prioritizing care for the artists she works with.
Latzer hopes to facilitate a platform for underrepresented artists who address narratives that provide a more complete representation of history. Approaching curation with a focus on humanity, Latzer views a successful exhibition as one that uplifts the voice of an artist and creates space for the audience’s voice, creating a blend of conversation, proximity, dialogue, and community.
In this conversation, we discuss Latzer’s love for nature, her favorite artworks, the science of sad songs, and her current exhibition at ICA San José, a collaboration with Montalvo Arts Center.
Check out “P L A C E: Reckonings by Asian American Artist,” from March 23 through August 11, featuring eleven California-based Asian American artists and two artist collectives at the ICA San José in downtown San José.
The first thing you may notice about Stephen Longoria is his gentle Texan accent. In his friendly manner, he’ll be quick to tell you about the craft of printmaking, his love of drawing his cat—or a one-eyed version of it—or his affection for his Texas hometown just north of the Mexican border.
While he doesn’t display anger on the outside, he says it drives his creative process. “Sometimes I get angry, and I just need to draw.” His stark black drawings tell the story about the sardonic state of mind in which he creates his art.
Today, Stephen is the San Jose–based owner and operator of Skull on Fire Studio, a printmaking shop downtown specializing in producing T-shirts and totes for artists and musicians. He describes his business as a punk rock business that operates more like a tattoo shop than a print studio, and he keeps his prices low to support his clients. “I try to keep it non-commercial,” he says before checking himself. “I guess that sounds pretty hipster.”
Screen printing is a complex process and supplies are expensive. It involves applying a photosensitive emulsion to a fine mesh and repeating the process for each layer of color added to a print. One mistake can cause your profit for a project to shrink drastically. Because of its cost, it’s a dying art in the Bay Area. On-demand digital printing is cheaper and faster, but it lacks the craftsmanship and vibrancy of hand-screened prints. The craft, he says, motivates him more than the money.
While his business takes up most of his time these days, Stephen still finds time to draw and make prints of his own art. His Instagram feed reveals his stylized approach to snakes, eagles, and ancient warriors. There’s no real inspiration behind his art—he just draws what he feels. “I try to draw what makes me happy. Sometimes I wake up and say I’m gonna draw snakes today, and that’s what I do.”
There’s a fantastical style to Stephen’s art that’s reminiscent of both Aztec pictographs and traditional Japanese illustrations. While he doesn’t actively emulate these styles, it makes sense that a kid who grew up in a Texas border town in an age in which pop culture was dominated by anime may subconsciously blend these aesthetics. In one drawing, a sharp-cornered cactus grows from a clay pot. In another, a roaring Godzilla emerges from the sea.
What he is actively trying to create is art that resonates with music from his teenage years. He says bands like All-American Rejects and Death from Above were defining for him as a young artist, and the feeling of that music is something Stephen tries to capture in his art.
His drawings—at least the ones he’s shared—are mostly monochrome, which makes them easier to print. While they look like they’re drawn in deep black ink, these days, Stephen is entirely digital. “I’ve given up on ink,” he says. Now, he draws in pencil, then traces the drawings in Illustrator and prints directly onto a film that can be transferred to a screen.
While Stephen is humble about both his art and his business, he has a lot to be proud of. Making a living as an artist in the South Bay is an impressive feat, and Stephen knows where his motivation comes from. “I’m pretty motivated by resentment,” he says again with a friendly laugh. “Being told I can’t do something has gotten me to where I am today.”
Episode #112 – Zach Waldren, Tailored By Design LLC
Zach Waldren founded his consulting business, Tailored by Design LLC (TBD), with a passion for customized user experiences.
As a kid, Zach loved going to Disneyland, where he noticed commonplace items in the park, such as trash cans, were designed to blend in with their themed surroundings. Inspired by Dinsney’s level of attention to design detail, Zach became interested in tailor-made user experiences, ultimately leading him to open his own consulting business in 2018. TBD helps clients, from restaurant operations to hospitality services, achieve their business goals by curating their customers’ experiences.
Zach sees San Jose as his own Disneyland, with challenges in hospitality and endless potential in the exciting and vibrant scene. Zach focuses on culinary experiences since food has a unique way of translating culture into experiences and stories. He believes food is a chance for San Jose to differentiate itself as a city through its cultural diversity. Zach connects his various experiences in marketing, hospitality, and DJing nightclubs to analyze the problems faced by his clients.
Nowadays, food can be viewed as both nourishment and entertainment. Zach hopes to leverage both aspects of the culinary experience by producing Silicon Valley’s Taco Throwdown. Zach believes there’s no better way to bring people together than having 20 tacos in a building on the weekend of Cinco de Mayo. The plan is for people to enjoy tacos while cheering on a competition that will crown a Taco Throwdown champion.
Join Zach Waldren on May 4 from 11am to 5pm at Blanco Urban Venue for the FIRST Silicon Valley Taco Throwdown.
In our conversation, we discuss Zach Waldren’s 20-year background as a wrestler and referee, his experiences as a DJ through his college years, and his belief in family and Christianity.
In an unassuming suburban garage in South San Jose, a music studio is tucked in parallel to a parked car, storage totes, and hanging bicycles. Often, you can find a poet getting active in the studio, chipping away at refining his craft, hoping to carve Corinthian columns from a career in acting and music. This creative headquarters is home to Davied Morales, AKA Activepoet.
Davied Morales is a San Jose–born actor and rapper who has worked for numerous Bay Area theater companies, appeared in television shows, commercials, and various short films, and amassed tens of thousands of followers across social media. The COVID-19 pandemic allowed Davied to focus on the “why” behind his work. He explains, “I was able to learn more about the business and understand why I want to do this work. I want to inspire people who look like me, and let people know that they can do it too.”
Raised by a single mother after his father’s untimely passing, Davied had to grow up quickly at a young age. He notes, “I know what a bad day looks like. I always try to be extra positive because I know life’s hard.” His work’s light-hearted joy and humor can be traced back to the shows he watched as a kid. He observes, “Shows like Kenan and Kel were huge for me. They represented a space for being goofy on TV. I loved it because there wasn’t as much violence or the huge political problems you see in our community. We’re always getting killed on TV. We can be anything we want, so why can’t people of color just have friends and tell cool stories about what we can do?”
“Everyone deserves to be creative. Creativity is a fundamental truth for all of us. We say in our work that fish swim, birds fly, and human beings create. That’s what we do.”
Along with manifesting positivity through his craft, Davied also works as an improv facilitator for San Jose’s Red Ladder Theatre Company, a social justice company with whom he leads workshops for men and women experiencing incarceration. When talking about his work in California prisons, Davied adds, “Everyone deserves to be creative. Creativity is a fundamental truth for all of us. We say in our work that fish swim, birds fly, and human beings create. That’s what we do. The best feedback we’ve received was from an attendee who said that for two hours, it felt like they weren’t in prison. I want our participants to know they’re still in touch with their childhood selves. There are bright spots in this world, and I want them to see that.” Moving forward, Davied is developing a catalog of music and content focused on sustainable production and consistency that fans of his work can rely on. The work he puts in now is meant to create an infrastructure that will support more extensive projects in the future. You can follow Activepoet on all platforms for valuable information, a behind-the-scenes look at the industry, and something to make you laugh. Davied Morales continues to prioritize art in his life and wants to make art a priority in the Bay Area.
A shoulder-hung tote swings in the mid-morning air as Keana Aguila Labra approaches a sanctuary of creative inspiration. Depending on the day, that sanctuary may be a cafe, a public garden, or a library. Wrapped in the canvas tote are tools for building historical foundations and deconstructing generational curses. Along with writing instruments to translate pain and promise into poetry and prose, you may find books written by authors such as Victoria Chang, Therese Estacion, or Janice Lobo Sapigao—literary figures outside the canon of white literature sharing stories with which Keana can relate.
Keana wears many hats and explains, “I see myself mostly as a poet, writer, editor, and creative. I am also co-director of the Santa Clara County Youth Poet Laureate program and co-founder of Sampaguita Press, an independent publishing house.” Keana’s work focuses on sharing cultural, historical, or personal knowledge to foster representation and safe spaces for readers and creatives unseen in society’s cultural hierarchy.
“I hope that I can share the knowledge that I have obtained and disseminate it freely to folks who might not have access to the education I have had. Education is power.”
Keana is a Cebuana Tagalog Fil-Am poet, and writer in diaspora. Her parents, who immigrated from the Philippines, wanted a better life for their children in the form of Americanization and careers in science. Interested in creativity and ancestral roots, familial friction fueled Keana’s interest in developing forms of self-expression. “My mother can be my biggest role model and enemy at the same time. I hope she sees I am breaking generational curses,” she shares. “I empathize with my mother a lot. The trauma of immigrating alone when she was 15 is her generational curse. Poetry is a vessel to work through the things I couldn’t articulate to my mom, not because I couldn’t share what I felt with her, but because I knew she was carrying her own weight. Our parents aren’t just parents; they’re people too.”
Keana’s poetic process is captured in a quote from William Wordsworth: “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” Keana’s poetry typically begins with a thought or emotion that crystallizes in a moment and is jotted down as a note for later interrogation. “I try to sit with myself in a kind of meditation, write down snippets, and continue coming back to them. I think of them as my children,” she explains. “I don’t rush a piece if it is about very intimate emotions. I like to keep the original snippets to see how I refined them over time, thinking about craft, intention, negative space, and the flow of line.” Keana, a self-described poet-historian, writes poetry in both English and the Bisayan language of Cebuano, a regional language in the Philippines and her grandparents’ native tongue.
Keana hopes to expand Marías at Sampaguitas Magazine from a digital to print publication, pursue an MFA in creative writing, and obtain a teaching credential while writing a book and screenplay. Keana concludes, “I hope that I can share the knowledge that I have obtained and disseminate it freely to folks who might not have access to the education I have had. Education is power.”
A wheat-pasted poster on a San Francisco sidewalk may be commonplace for 99 percent of passersby. For photographer Dan Fenstermacher, the details caught his eye from across the street: an ambiguous lower body clothed in shorts and walking shoes—leg tattoos exposed—standing on a trail with marketing copy that read “on the path to zero impact.” Dan also noticed a burly, shirtless man thirty feet away walking towards the poster; he had patchy body hair on his chest that shared an uncanny resemblance to a smiley face. Dan hurried across the street to catch the convergence of the two. The photo he captured juxtaposes a hipster on a hike with a shirtless man on a city street—both of whom are uniquely getting in touch with nature—and puts a humorous spin on the sustainability marketing technique of showing people experiencing the outdoors. The composition plays with body level, placing the lower body on the poster in line with the man’s upper half. While any similarity between those two figures could be viewed as an abstract coincidence, Dan sees potential in layering and capturing dissimilar details with eye-catching composition to create something new, authentic, and often funny.
Dan Fenstermacher is a burgeoning photographer with internationally recognized work. He’s also a professor and chair of the West Valley College photography program, a contributor to The San Francisco Standard, and a volunteer photographer for the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Dan’s projects blend street photography and photojournalism with clever juxtaposition; his photos are most known for their vibrant colors, use of flash, and humorous composition.
Originally from Seattle, Washington, Dan obtained a bachelor’s degree in advertising from the University of Idaho before moving to Los Angeles to pursue a career in marketing. While there, he realized that advertising has less to do with creative ad concepts and more with market research, data analysis, and spreadsheets. Dan recalls, “I hated it. I started taking photography classes at night through a local community college while doing those advertising jobs. I had a roommate at the time who went off to Korea to teach English, so I figured I could do the same thing.” Dan went on to use his community college photo credits to teach fine art in China, aided by student translators. Later, he enrolled in a graduate photography program at San Jose State University.
“Traveling makes me feel alive. When you experience a new culture, it’s like getting to experience life again for the first time.”
Dan’s photography is rooted in detail and captures reality at the core of often misunderstood situations. “I have always been an observer,” he says. “I tend to notice things that most people wouldn’t consider. I like to combine street photography with journalistic documentary themes.” Each of Dan’s projects captures a range of topics and manages to juxtapose conception with reality. His project documenting seniors in Costa Rica contrasts American society’s fear of aging with the joy and experience seen on the faces of the elderly. His “Streets to the Dirt” project documents Black cowboys in Richmond, California, and shows that cowboys are not just White men in movies. Dan continues to broaden his photo expeditions, explaining that “traveling makes me feel alive. When you experience a new culture, it’s like getting to experience life again for the first time.” Dan’s career as a photography professor allows him to embrace his passion while surrounded by inspiring up-and-coming student artists. Dan aligns his trips with his school schedule and plans to travel to Guadalajara, Mexico, to document mariachi culture. His next goal is to produce his first self-published photo book.
Dalia Rawson is the South Bay’s authority on all things ballet. A longtime performer with the now-defunct Cleveland San Jose Ballet Company, the Saratoga native has performed for numerous companies in addition to holding backstage management positions with the Silicon Valley Ballet. With the closure of that company, Rawson founded The New Ballet School in March of this year. Less than a year later, the school has grown to over 300 students and is the only school on the West Coast that’s been certified by the American Ballet Theatre. The New Ballet School’s first production this winter, featuring Rawson’s choreography, will be a San Jose–inspired rendition of The Nutcracker
“It’s been since 2006 that I last danced professionally. Of course, I miss it, but the career doesn’t last forever. I was just really lucky to work with people I looked up to. It’s been 11 years now, but I certainly get a lot of joy and inspiration from teaching young people and working as a choreographer and director. Our newest production is the San Jose Nutcracker, which tells the classic story with local inspiration. Set in the city around 1905, it will feature a glowing replica of the historic San Jose Electric Light Tower, as well as the historic skyline. It’s something I’m really excited about.”
Episode #103 Carman Gaines, Associate Director of Local Color
When asked to describe the San José art scene, Carman Gaines uses words like ‘passionate, diverse, obsessive, and community oriented.’ One could argue that those words also best describe Carman’s life view and journey to the present. Born and raised in San José, Carman tries to squeeze the most out of life for herself and in honor of her ancestors. Carman has an intentional approach to spending her time and the opportunities she pursues but balances those things by focusing only on what she can control.
Carman studied art history and photography in college, learning its potential to impact lives and document history. However, she accepted early on that photography was not how she wanted to survive in a capitalist world, opting to use it as a form of catharsis and personal growth. That realization did not stop her from popping into different art spaces, dropping off resumes, taking unpaid internships, and commuting to a gallery job in San Francisco for a few years before tenaciously pursuing a position at Local Color that would bring her career in arts administration closer to home.
In the years since Carman began working for Local Color, she has taken on the role of associate director. Although her work often requires trips to what she calls ‘Grantland,’ a destination of administrative paperwork and potential funding, she relishes the opportunity to provide artists and organizations a platform to impact the community through art.
While Carman supports the art community through her career, she is also working towards a future that involves a farm, airstream, dismantling capitalism, and mutual aid. In her new podcast, ‘Plan and Story,’ Carman sits down with folks in the community to discuss their visions for the future and the sometimes unforeseen road that will take them there.
In our conversation, we discuss Carman’s journey to working for Local Color, her experiences as an artist and arts administrator, and her inspiration and approach to life.
Join Carman this Friday, October 27th, for Local Color’s annual 31 Skulls fundraiser. This fundraiser supports local artists and helps fund this woman-powered organization, fostering connections between artists, people, and places.
Some places have such big personalities that they almost seem alive. Take, for instance, stories such as Alice in Wonderland or Howl’s Moving Castle with settings so colorful that they become their own character. On rare occasions, you may find a location like those in real life. San Jose’s K-Café is absolutely one of them.
If K-Café Patisserie and Tea House were a person, it would be a hardcore girly girl—dressed to the nines with a fierce devotion to all things sparkly and pink. When a first-timer encounters it, there’s a noticeable doubletake. Almost reflexively, patrons’ phones pop out to document every last inch of the room’s blush pink furniture, glittery wall art, and, most importantly, the ceiling—a Sistine Chapel of ornamentation awash with silk flowers, gilded birdcages, golden branches, and no less than ten crystal chandeliers.
“When people walk in, they need to be wowed,” says owner Kayla Dinh, adding that the décor contrasts drastically with the aesthetic of the previous owners. “When we got this space, it was empty. Everything was gray colored so we painted the whole interior and exterior pink… I always wanted to have a really happy place.”
You might not guess it by looking at it, but despite the café’s charm and substantial female following, the shop was not an overnight success. K-Café has undergone significant obstacles in order to keep its doors open and become the thriving business you see today.
The Shop’s Early Days
Seeking to bring a taste of Vietnam’s outdoor café culture to the Bay Area, Kayla opened K-Café’s doors back in December 2019. When the 2020 shelter-in-place mandate brought the world to a screeching halt just months after her café’s grand opening, Kayla found that her shop hadn’t been open long enough to qualify for government aid. After temporarily closing the café’s doors for six months, she reopened—only to close again when the smoke from the 2020 wildfires made Santa Clara County’s outdoor dining requirements unappealing to customers.
“We only had three people working here,” Kayla recalls. “All our employees left because they could see the business going down.” Fortuitously, K-Café’s owner has tenacity in spades (after all, she launched four successful businesses by the age of 30…and she did it without the support of her family, who thought she should find a more secure job). Determined to keep her new shop alive, she worked for free, eating tens of thousands of dollars in costs without any revenue potential.
On top of everything else, the storefront has been broken into on more than one occasion, with ransackers cutting the electricity and destroying equipment. “Not going to lie, we almost had to declare bankruptcy two years ago,” she says. “But we passed through. When we reopened at the beginning of 2021, people supported us.”
To make her comeback, Kayla worked tirelessly to expand the menu, doubling their list of offerings—from beverages like the brown sugar latte and honeydew milk tea, to fusion brunch items like the bacon benedict and almond amaretto cake.
She also introduced three-tiered trays, and guests jumped at the chance to layer them with petit desserts (alongside cherry blossom tea in delicate teapots). Complete high tea service is now available for private events.
Today’s Little Patch of Paradise
Today, Kayla watches over her patch of paradise with an air of satisfaction, savoring the lively atmosphere. Flocks of friends in floral dresses and lacey tank tops flow in and out. From time to time, their number is joined by a young couple, a dad with his little princess, or a cosplayer in a frilly Lolita costume.
In feast or famine, K-Café’s silk flowers keep this space effortlessly springtime. “It’s going to be happy all year,” Kayla says of her design choice, but adds that her arriving guests don’t necessarily have to be. “If you’re not happy, it doesn’t matter—you should come here too!” she invites.
Take her up on the offer. Come as you are and find a window seat underneath the floral canopy, or opt for a patio table out in the garden courtyard with the Greek statues. Because if San Jose’s girliest café could withstand its gritty underdog beginnings, all guests are more than welcome, no matter their season.
Congratulations to the K Fam, Inc for the opening of their laetst location, K on THe Go in Milpitas, 261 W Calaveras Blvd!
(Side images from the Grand Opening. Shot by Zea Huizar @monetinspring)
The 10th Anniversary of Content Magazine issue 14.2 Pick-Up Party was an exciting evening of culture and community that celebrated many talented artists and passionate art lovers. Live music, laughter, and happy chatter filled the air of San Pedro Square Market and brought the night alive as new and familiar faces came to celebrate together.
BAUNFIRE’s photo-booth and Content specialty drinks specially prepared by the San Pedro Square Market Bar for the event both left behind fond memories to be treasured for years to come. To date, our largest Pick-Up Party featured artists from around the South Bay Area with hundreds of guests, including California State Representative Ash Kalra, who presented Content Magazine with a Resolution the ten years accomplishment of highlighting local creatives.
Daniel Garcia, Founder and Cultivator of Content Magazine, and Juan Sanchez, Founder and Creative Director of BAUNFIRE, toasted the success of Content Magazine and looked to the future with raised glasses from smiling guests of the South Bay’s key creatives.
We at Content Magazine are grateful to all the artists, partners, members, and community for your support in this project to give visibility to the artist of Santa Clara County.
Thank you all for ten years! Here’s to (at least) ten more.
Event Musicians: @bennettjazzkeys, @lidiapeacelovesax, @the408collectivemusic. Featured Artists: @caiakoopman, @alexknowbody, @farrantabrizi, @ezramara1, @nicolastela, @j.duh, @teejay5992, @benjamin_dobbin_art, @mrharada, and @gmrartstudio. Event Partners: @baunfire, ABIERTO, @spsmarket, @stuarteventrentals, @voyagercraftcoffee, @soskiphotobooth, and @sanjosejazz
Francisco Ramirez has been into art for as long as he can remember. His first memory is of scribbling on his mom’s walls. As he grew up, art became a form of escapism from a turbulent home life. It was a hobby for a long time. Only recently has Ramirez begun taking it seriously, picking up mural work and other commissions to keep himself afloat. His work is comprised of bright, mysterious color, bringing focus to his anthropological and fantastical themes—dramatic, mundane, and everything in between. Ramirez works in acrylic, watercolor, and pastel, but he prefers acrylic, as it lends itself to the versatility of his art gigs. He likes to work fast—sometimes producing a full painting in a day—although the complexity and composition of his work belies that speed. As for the future, Ramirez sees himself doing murals, but beyond that, he doesn’t plan much and is happy to see where his art takes him.
“While I have my personal favorite artists like Van Gogh or Frida Kahlo that are big influences on my art, at the end of the day, the people I’m really inspired by are those that surround me. Other artists are my creative food. That goes for life itself, everything beautiful, wonderful, and terrible, all of it brings me inspiration. But quite honestly, without the influence of the artists around me, I wouldn’t have much.”
As a boy, Rodrigo García was told that performing arts made a good hobby, not a career. This assumption was flipped on its head, however, after he moved from Mexico City to the States and encountered Teatro Visión, a theater that inspires, empowers, and dignifies Latino voices while also exploring the social and psychological experiences of Latinos. As its current artistic director, García oversees the development of works performed by the theater, including original pieces developed with community feedback, and ensures that artistic excellence is brought to the stage. He is captivated by the directing process—of taking a plain paper script and raising the words off the page.
“Little by little, I start imagining the possibilities, the color, the forms, the movement,” he explains, using words like “magical” and “spiritual” to describe the end product.
García’s project—focusing on theater, possibly expanding into spoken word, music, and dance—is still in its developmental stage, but he knows it will allow LGBTQ artists of color the opportunity to share through performance. He doesn’t necessarily expect viewers to agree with voices different than their own, but he does hope it will result in deeper compassion for other points of view.
“We need to have spaces where we’re able to hear each other,” he observes, “where we’re able to share our stories to create mutual understanding.” Not only does this honor the ambassadorship, but it exemplifies Teatro Visión as a place seeking to replace passive contemplation with “sparkling conversations between people.”
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 and 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 background 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 would 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 reallocated 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 at 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’s 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 lets 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 to experience a show and know the quality of entertainment will be a top bar, this is one thing I say because it’s true: both Shannon and I are directors and choreographers, 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 of 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 an 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.
Chris Elliman moved to the US from England in his teens when his father landed an industrial design position at Apple in 1985. Through his creativity, talent, and persuasive persona, he finds himself thoroughly linked to the creative culture and history of the South Bay and Downtown San Jose.
Disregarding high school, Chris landed in the middle of San Jose’s skateboard scene and began hanging out with Corey O’Brien, Steve Caballero, and Ray Stevens II (Faction and Los Olvidados). The latter was one of the first people Chris met when he came to San Jose.
In the early 1990s, Chris found himself working as a decor designer at the now-defunct nightclub One Step Beyond, occasionally DJing with records he had acquired while a display artist at Tower Records on Bascom Avenue in Campbell.
Moving on to Metro Newspapers as a graphic designer, he met Chris Esparza (owner of Naglee Park Garage and Giant Creative). The two of them developed underground parties called the “King of Club,” which they used to co-found the club Ajax (pronounced “Ai-yax”) in 1991. Named after the Dutch football team, the now legendary South First Street club, formerly located above Cafe Stritch, closed in 1995.
Searching for what to do next, Chris nearly headed to Portland, Oregon, but was offered a warehouse space in the American Can building on South 5th and Virginia. He has both subleased it as an artist collective and used it as a studio himself for the last 30 years.
In his studio, lightly littered with a design and visual history of San Jose and framed by shelves of albums, Chris speaks about his paintings. (We’ll save his cycling and graphic work for another time…)
“Life cycle”
I think I have the courage to make many mistakes, which allows me to grow from those mistakes. What I paint is life—my surroundings, what I see, people. I like to think that, in every one of my paintings, I am communicating about culture…I think paintings should say something.
I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with aesthetically pleasing paintings. Aesthetics is a great thing. It’s got its place. I’m OK with that. Sometimes, I do things that are strictly aesthetic, but I like to think that most of what I do has a social or political charge to it, a psychological charge.
I’m looking at society and what is almost an illness or a psychological situation. I feel like I’m trying to paint a little bit of that into each piece, so there is definitely something behind every piece.
I like to say that most of these paintings—maybe all of these paintings—are like portals.
There’s a flat surface that you see, but what is really taking place is what is behind that surface. There’s a story.
With abstract painting, abstract art, you bring your story to it and it completes the paintings. I feel like everyone has a story and these paintings get completed with their stories.
It’s like truth. Everyone’s got their own truth. Truth’s ever-changing…
“Systematic Deconstruction”
This particular painting is not actually completed. My concept of finishing this painting is when someone purchases it, we’ll go to a target range and we’ll shoot. I’ll allow them the choice. They can shoot holes through it, which would be ideal. That way, they have now become a part of this piece. Or we’ll allow the instructor or whoever it is to do the shooting [laughs] if they don’t feel like doing it.
“America: Stars and Strikes”
The Mickey Mouse and the figures, which were a couple of friends who modeled for me, represent for me…what was behind this is “American Apparel.”
You’ve got two young models, fairly innocent in their attire, which is just underwear, yet provocatively posed.
In America, everyone’s trying to be a celebrity or successful, so there’s a fine line in Hollywood between starting out as an innocent Disney character star and then moving over into pop music or movies. Those who “make it” are the stars. Those who don’t are the strikes.
The innocence is in the Mickey and Minnie Mouse. It represents what is behind this American Apparel. There’s a fine line…that goes down the path of, “I didn’t make it in Hollywood but I became a porn star,” or “I became a sleazy magazine advertising model.”
For me, it’s just a hard hit on Hollywood and the media and what drives people.
“A Visual Discourse in Non-objective Cageian Randomness”
Right now, I have moved on to what is a “Cagean” philosophy, from John Cage, the composer, who was a Buddhist practitioner and who studied “randomness.”
I’ve been exploring John Cage and his thoughts about randomness in a few pieces. He composed music randomly because he felt that was more natural, and I felt like that’s what I was doing. I read this book on John Cage so I could understand him better. I felt like there was a great connection. I was actually doing what he was talking about through some of these pieces. Then I thought I’d explore it a little bit further.
Then the X’s. Yeah, I created the X’s, so they’re all the same size. I cut them out and threw them down, and allowed them to land randomly. There are 27 X’s because I’m very fond of the number three. Those X’s were thrown down randomly, and wherever they land, that is the serendipitous part, the randomness. They just land, and I’m not going to dictate that.
Those colors aren’t my favorite colors. However, I did have those colors. I had at some point chosen those colors. Since I have these pots of paint, I decide to randomly select this bunch of paints and looked at them and said, “OK, I’m going to use those.”
As a designer, I’m fighting it a little bit, thinking to myself, “Oh, I wish I hadn’t had that color.” [laughs] But I’m going to go along with the experiment, exploring, and I’m going to allow that color to stay because that’s what Cage was doing.
“Serendipitous Deconstruction no.2: Pussy Riot”
I had loosely called it “Serendipitous Deconstruction” because I was deconstructing what I was building. Serendipitously finding interesting things in the piece, and allowing what I thought was interesting to remain.
Each time I did something, I allowed the interesting portions to remain, so it was serendipitously deconstructed.
“The World is Flat But It’s an Un-level Playing Field”
This is geographical. It is all the countries of the “round of 16” of the World Cup, placed geographically. Russia, Japan, Korea, Australia, Argentina, Chile, the United States, and Mexico—all connected to the nations they played against. Each game is strung up together.
I changed the colors in the spaces, but all of these shapes were created because of the outcome of the games. I mean, anyone could have won the World Cup, right? Random.
That’s the eye of the artist—you recognize what could potentially become art.
As with many of the artists profiled in these pages, Santa Cruz–based artist and illustrator Allison Marie Garcia has been loving and creating art as far back as her memory will take her. A native of Hollister, Garcia found her life’s obsession early, and as she puts it, “it has never really stopped.” As an adolescent, Garcia found that her love of art and its visual manifestations helped her define herself as well as draw people in. “It was a way for me to make friends and fit in somewhere once I got into high school, which is where I think it really started to feel like more of an identity that I was stuck with, in a way,” Garcia recalls.
So, naturally, when it came time for applying to college, Garcia gravitated towards schools that could help her fully develop as an artist. First she took a “few years’ break at a local junior college.” Fortunately for her (and us), from there Garcia chose to attend San Jose State University, which has a distinguished and broadly applicable arts program.
And as with her early obsession with art, it followed that her talent would be noticed earlier, too. Although Garcia is still a student pursuing her BFA at SJSU, her work has the restraint, technique, and confidence of a veteran artist.
Working in a variety of mediums (digital, pen and ink, acrylic, and oil) and composing in a range of styles, Garcia imbues her work with dueling senses of harmony and dissonance, a combined rawness and poise that gives the viewer an intimate perception of what Garcia puts into each piece of art emotionally, and, admittedly, it’s often powerful and dark. Thematically, Garcia’s work uses a lot of faces, outer spaces, and imagery with a nihilistic, or at least, alienated touch. Much of her work shows an incredible sense of composition, tonal subtlety, and restraint, as well as confident linework that is playfully austere in its ability to careen in and out of sharpness without ever losing Garcia’s unique aesthetic touch.
While her work manifests itself wonderfully in seemingly whatever medium and with an organization and (there it is again) restraint that suggest singular focus in her creative process, Garcia prefers to work in bunches and mostly in acrylics. “My process for painting is usually working on four to five pieces at once, and I prefer acrylic, usually, because I work fast and frantically most of the time,” she says, adding, “Once I am done designing/thinking, I get to work and sometimes hours go by before I realize it’s time to step back.”
Garcia credits her influences in art to a broad range of expressionist painters, illustrators, and musicians, noting everyone from the mother of abstract art, Hilma af Klint, to another early shapeshifter, Paul Klee, as well as more contemporary purveyors of expressionist concepts like Margaret Kilgallen. She also credits music with being a heavy influence, if not catalyst, for her work. “I derive a lot of inspiration from music and use it to spark the beginnings of work—often,” Garcia says.
“I think regardless of who I want to speak to, certain people will always connect or understand. I think my work deals with some darkness and heavier ideas, but I am optimistic.”
A recurring theme is Garcia’s natural love of art, almost as if imbibed at birth. Her life, if not career, as an artist is something she never questioned and still doesn’t. This speaks to another huge influence on her work: her family. “I was lucky enough to have a family that has always supported my dreams of making a career out of art,” Garcia says.
“I think, regardless of who I want to speak to, certain people will always connect or understand,” Garcia says about what she wants viewers to take away from her work. “I think my work deals with some darkness and heavier ideas, but I am optimistic.”
People are certainly getting something out of it. Though still technically a “student” of art, Garcia boasts over 25,000 Instagram followers, a level of exposure that she is nothing but thankful for. “The illustrative side of my work seems to do okay, business-wise, especially my tarot card deck, so I’m just grateful for it and hope to do more commissioned illustrative freelance work down the road,” Garcia says, adding for hopeful clients: “I love designing shirts, beer labels, packaging art, and things like that.”
As for the future, Garcia just hopes to keep making art.
In a sea of conventional milk tea shops, Tea Lyfe revels in its differences. Curious about the story behind its fusion drinks, local artwork collection, and open mic nights? Meet Latina owner Candy Gomez Bui and her Vietnamese husband, Caleb Bui. As you settle in to listen to their story, set the tone by ordering a vietchata (Mexican horchata blended with Vietnamese iced coffee) and a coffee churro waffle (Hispanic churros and Vietnamese coffee mixed with waffle batter).
Taste that commingling of cultures? Candy and Caleb embraced multiculturalism before they crafted the menu—and before they’d even met each other. “It’s not something you can avoid in San Jose,” Candy laughs. As your typical poor college student, Caleb haunted the affordable taqueria close to campus. Meanwhile, Candy’s coworkers at her old job bribed her with popcorn chicken and milk tea when they were late for their shifts.
Fittingly, the two met at a multiethnic church that offered English and Vietnamese services. Later, after they were married, Candy noticed an empty unit at the plaza they visited weekly. Situated in Little Saigon’s Vietnam Town and bordering a Latino neighborhood just across the 101 overpass, the location harmonized perfectly with the Vietnamese/Latino drinks she had in mind. “We’re neighbors,” Candy explains. “There should be more unity with the people you live around. They don’t have to necessarily share the same language or look the same for me to feel at home.”
Caleb remembers his initial response when his wife first came to him with the idea of a milk tea shop. “I was a little bit skeptical, but I thought, ‘If this is what she’d like to do, we’ll give it a try,’ ” he says. “I just really wanted to support her.” He continued working full-time as a software QA engineer at Apple, while Candy managed the shop.
To decorate Tea Lyfe, the resourceful couple recycled weathered wood, succulents, and bare lightbulbs from their wedding (which took place at a Chinese restaurant with chips and salsa and a mariachi band). To further enhance a natural, campground like atmosphere, they brought in moveable stumps and painted their bear logo on the far wall. The camp theme resulted in not only a whimsically woodsy interior design but also established the store as a space for families to come together away from distractions.
“Lyfe,” an acronym for “love your family every day,” celebrates a value that transcends race. “In both of our cultures, family is so important,” Candy says. “My grandma had eleven kids. Whether you get along or not, you always end up together.” It’s why Candy uses a family recipe for her horchata and why she integrated Vietnamese coffee into the menu after finding out her mother-in-law and aunt sold the beverage from a little stand during the ’70s.
Art is another unifying force at the shop. Tea Lyfe opens its doors to local artists, offering up its walls to painters’ canvases and providing space for musicians’ open mic nights. As a musician himself, Caleb was particularly excited about supporting the musical community. “I wanted this place to be a platform for musicians,” Caleb says. “I know it’s really hard to find places where you can display your talent.” Over the years, they have welcomed everything from blues to rock to R&B.
Besides the live entertainment and unconventional menu, Tea Lyfe’s customers come for the quality. This refusal to take the easy way out when it comes to ingredients was first instilled in Candy when she was pregnant and seeking organic, pesticide free foods at the farmers’ market. “We go against the grain of typical boba syrups,” Candy says. Instead of the typical honey flavored syrup offered by most milk tea shops, Tea Lyfe embraces local raw honey. Instead of powdered milk, they bring in organic half and half straight from the Straus Family Creamery in Petaluma. They use real fruit and whisk the ceremonial-grade matcha green tea by hand. “I wouldn’t want to create something that I wouldn’t want my family to drink,” Candy states. With customers receiving treatment usually reserved for relatives, is it any wonder that so many regulars consider it home?
“Art is there to recover what is hidden and what has been lost.… Art starts a dialogue within yourself.”
Roberto Romo was born, as he puts it, “in the middle of nowhere” in the Sierra Madre; and throughout his early school years, he moved back and forth between Mexico and the US, which frequently put him behind in classes. When he did not understand a lesson, he would doodle. Today he is a MALI (Multicultural Arts Leadership Institute) graduate, the first in his family with a college degree, and he’s active in the San Jose arts community as a freelance illustrator, an art director at the newspaper El Observador, and a teacher.
For the Opera Cultura Theatre production Cuentos de Peregrinacion (Tales of Pilgrimage), Romo was commissioned to distill the Mexican migrant experience into five paintings. In “Working in the Fields,” a strawberry pierced by a nail dominates the scene, serving as pedestal for a pale gold hummingbird, its wings serenely lifted as though ready to take flight. The strawberry’s sweetness is juxtaposed with the physical pain and financial struggle of the migrant worker: that sweetness comes at the cost of someone else’s bitter sweat and tears. The hummingbird represents the migrant’s ability to adapt to and to survive, with grace and resolve, any situation. In “Leaving Mexico,” the Mexican eagle perches proudly before the Statue of Liberty as caballero, its familiar features distinctly Mexican, an ochre cowboy hat set firmly atop its head. The symbols of the two cultures are deftly interwoven into one whole, one new identity. In “Crossing the Border,” a silent trio of compass, water, and vulture conjures up the death that awaits so many who undertake that long and harrowing trek through the desert. “The empathy of the artist is universal,” Romo observes.
Empathy is only the start. For Romo, the drive to create is bound inextricably also to the drive to examine and analyze. At the School of Arts and Culture, he introduces art as a way to guide students to live their lives more consciously, exposing the dangers of not looking at the world with awareness, of not questioning, of too readily assuming that what is routine in life is also truth. Art, for Romo, is the cornerstone of mind, spirit, and individual thought: it is the magic created from meditation. “Art is there to recover what is hidden and what has been lost,” he says. “I paint to provoke. Art starts a dialogue within yourself.”
His current project, La Nueva Loteria, explores what he calls his hybrid self: the intersecting bloodlines of aboriginal and European. This 54-painting series is based on the widely played card game in Mexico, brought from Europe and assimilated into Mexican culture hundreds of years ago. “We are a society that has been vandalized,” Romo says. “We’ve been obligated to survive by any means.” Romo’s reenvisioning of the cards brings to the fore the symbols of a Mexican and an Aztec culture smudged out of existence by a dominant European system. In the original deck, La Muerte, the card of death, features the standard Grim Reaper of European religion and folklore. Romo has depicted instead a skeleton reclining, as if sleeping, on a pillow, an homage to the aboriginal view of death as a long sleep. In his vision of El Corazon, the heart is fully realized in ultra-realistic anatomical detail, with two delicate gold bands beside it, anchoring love within marriage and family.
The exhibition is scheduled for this coming November at the School of Arts and Culture, and Romo’s goal is to have the paintings available in card form as a real game: La Loteria reinterpreted for the new millennium.
In a world of ready mechanization and assimilation, a world too formed of and by mass culture, Romo pushes himself, his students, and us to question the picture of reality the world offers, calling upon all of us to press past that picture and to see what really is. In this quest, the artist leads the way. “We form matter out of antimatter. We are like God, like creators. Artists provoke the spirit,” he says. “We artists are the earthquake. Everyone stops and listens.” To do this, to be this, sometimes means leaving the comfort and safety of the established. But do not shrink from the task, Romo tells us. “You are a coward if you don’t launch yourself at the unknown,” he urges. “Go out and get it.”
California’s Mediterranean climate is ideal for growing grapes for wine. Wine aficionados are spoiled for options in the Silicon Valley region. Here are three world-class wineries in our own backyard.
J. Lohr Vineyards & Wines Written by Michelle Rund
The best wines often come from an individual truly devoted to the craft, and that could not be truer than for Jerry Lohr at J. Lohr Vineyards & Wines. Jerry came to the Central Coast 40 years ago to plant grapes in what was then a relatively unknown growing region. Using the agricultural knowledge he gained from having grown up on a farm in South Dakota, Jerry planted his first vines in Monterey County. Today, J. Lohr has 3,700 acres of vineyards across Paso Robles, Monterey County, and the St. Helena appellation of Napa Valley. Headquartered in San Jose, J. Lohr recently celebrated its 40-year anniversary as a family-owned, family-operated establishment. The winery is also part of the Certified California Sustainable Winegrowing program, which indicates an ongoing commitment to sustainable and environmentally friendly practices.
J. Lohr’s presence in San Jose has been growing in recent years. As businesses have opened around The Alameda, more and more people are discovering the winery’s tasting room, which lies just off the main drag of the burgeoning area. J. Lohr engages with the local community as well, hosting wine and cheese evenings during the summer, as well as wine and chocolate nights, corporate dinners, and small private events throughout the year. The winery’s Paso Robles location is not to be missed: it boasts a three-acre photovoltaic tracking system—a solar energy grid that not only provides sustainable energy to the vineyard but also creates a beautiful light show when the midmorning sun strikes on a clear day. So whether you’re in San Jose, Monterey, Napa, or Paso Robles, be sure to take a moment to enjoy some wine with J. Lohr.
Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards Written by Flora Moreno de Thompson
The next time you’ve got some friends in town and don’t know where to take them, drive up Congress Springs Road to Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards in Saratoga for a bit of wine tasting and to take in the beautiful scenery.
Named after owners Kellie and Mike Ballard’s two daughters, Savannah-Chanelle already had a storied history long before they bought the winery in 1996. It was originally purchased in 1901 by Pierre Pourroy, a French immigrant. He built the stately family villa on the property overlooking the vineyards and named it Montmartre—builders misspelled it as Monmartre, and you can still see the typo in the building’s entryway. The winery barely survived the Prohibition era, and changed hands a few times before being purchased by the Ballard family.
Perched high in the Santa Cruz Mountains, Savannah-Chanelle Vineyards has a great view of the Silicon Valley on a clear day. The surrounding vineyards and mountains are a beautiful backdrop to experience the winery’s famous Pinot Noirs.
Visitors to the winery can sample wines in the Redwood Tasting Room from 11am to 5pm everyday, with live music available on Saturday and Sunday from 2 to 5pm. The scenic grounds make for a great spot to have a picnic or to sit in one of their Adirondack chairs and enjoy a nice glass of wine.
Regale Winery and Vineyards Written by Michelle Runde
Many areas in California are renowned for their impressive wineries, but most people don’t think of the South Bay as one of those regions. Thanks to Regale Winery and Vineyards, Los Gatos can boast such a destination. Larry Schaadt bought the vacant land in 2005 with a vision of creating a winery that would bring the classic Italian-Napa elegance to the South Bay. “I wanted to build a place where people would feel like they’d driven hundreds of miles to a beautiful winery, when really it was just a few miles away,” says Larry. Regale’s primary focus is Pinot Noir, but it also produces Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon. Many of the grapes are grown outside the estate, in the Anderson Valley, Russian River Valley, Sonoma Coast, Santa Rita Hills, Napa Valley, and Santa Cruz Mountains. Regale even bottles its own olive oil from a grove of Italian olive trees that Larry planted on the estate.
Regale is a popular choice for private events, birthday parties, and corporate functions, and also hosts several events for its wine club members each year. Regale does not sell its wine to restaurants or stores; the winery is committed to keeping production at a small scale. “We’ve chosen to make just enough wine each year for our members and our events. Anyone can go to a store to buy wine nowadays; for us, the allure is the experience of tasting wine in a vineyard setting,” says Larry. When you’re craving a classic California wine experience but don’t want to drive to Napa, head to Regale for a glass. You won’t be disappointed.
Maxwell Borkenhagen and Hiver Van Geenhoven have known each other for years. More recently, they’ve become partners with a shared vision of attracting more people to downtown San Jose—SoFA, specifically. Van Geenhoven is the roaster at Chromatic Coffee, which is served at Cafe Stritch, the renamed and remodeled SoFA restaurant that has been in the Borkenhagen family for over 35 years. Maxwell Borkenhagen books the musical acts and art displayed in the restaurant and music venue, bringing new life and crowds to downtown San Jose. Both Borkenhagen and Van Geenhoven are optimistic about the future of downtown San Jose and want to share their passions with old friends and new customers alike.
How did you two meet?
MB: We had a lot of mutual acquaintances when I was in high school…
HVG: The way we met was actually over coffee. The guy that taught me how to roast coffee was hanging around with Maxwell. We just got along. Maxwell, your parents owned Eulipia before Cafe Stritch, so you’ve been a part of the restaurant business for a long time. Did you ever think you’d be here, running part of it?
MB: No. All throughout high school, I was very weary of getting into the family business. Mixing business with family can be good for the business but not as good for the family. It adds a level of strain. Part of why I moved back to San Jose is because I had started discussing reviving Eulipia, bringing it back to its origins, and modeling it after these places I encountered while in Portland.
When I moved back, I saw potential in this place to do more than a restaurant. There was potential for live music. For so long, that’s what I’ve wanted to do. Seeing that opportunity with this place gave me a new motivation to work for my family. I’ve come to embrace San Jose more. I love San Jose. I truly want to commit to building a better community here. When my parents opened this place in 1977, there was nothing here. They were the first young people to open up a cool, hip place down here.
What sets you guys apart from other businesses in downtown San Jose?
HVG: Passion. When it comes to Chromatic, it’s a dream that I had. I love what I do, and I love working toward it. I love seeing the reaction that people have of “Wow, this coffee is different.” That drive to provide an authentic experience…I want you to have something that’s unique.
MB: What sets us and a number of others apart is that we have a belief in San Jose that it does not have to be a secondary market. I want San Jose to be respected as a place where quality doesn’t have to always be less than San Francisco. Whether it’s in music, art, food, beverage, what have you. I don’t want to be better than SF, but there’s no reason we can’t be as good.
Hiver, where did your love of coffee come from?
HVG: I started working at Peet’s Coffee and learning about coffee. It caught my attention and held my attention. Nothing much had ever really held my attention. After a couple of years, Peet’s had moved their roasting facility, and they had an open house. I went and saw the machines and thought, “This is what I want to do: I want to roast coffee.”
I’ve thought of coffee as a medium of directing culture. The ideas that can be shared over coffee can be very interesting. I’m mainly interested in bringing coffee to the forefront and sharing the value of what that beverage is.
You’re both a part of businesses that are bringing people to downtown San Jose and breathe new life in the SoFA district. What else do you want to see happen here?
MB: Low-rent housing downtown. I see this as a huge resource. I would love to get to the point where San Jose State students make this community their home, but SJSU only accounts for a segment of the community that I’m a part of. If we had one high-rise that had rent that your average 20-something could afford, that could bring such a breath of life into this community. We need a bigger group of people concentrated down here.
HVG: We want to show the rest of the Bay Area that we too take things seriously.
You are both raising the bar in your respective fields in San Jose: downtown venues and coffee culture. Can you talk about your influence on your customers?
HVG: I’d like people to enjoy themselves. But if I can spark an interest to where they want to learn more or be exposed to more… For so long, this area has been inundated by mediocrity. Mediocre clubs, restaurants, food, shit on TV. We don’t overwhelm; we’re approachable.
MB: There’s a lack of tastemakers in the South Bay. Inevitably, if we’re going to build a culture here, it’s going to be much more embracing and unpretentious than in other cities.
I attribute the lack of this niche art and music culture that we’re trying to cultivate to a lack of people that have the confidence to take things they perceive to be good and expose those things to as many people as they can. I don’t claim to have better taste than anyone, but I do have the drive to take something I like and have the confidence to put it on stage and create an environment where all these people can be exposed to something. It’s not shoving things down anyone’s throat, but it’s “Hey, look at this, we think this is good.”
What’s next for each of you? What can we look forward to?
MB: A big motivating factor that drives me to try and build the art and music community is that I don’t want the youth in San Jose to have the same experience that I did. San Jose can be a cool place. You don’t have to just love it because it’s your hometown. I want to see South First Street be the central point of downtown San Jose.
HVG: We’re aware that there were these culminating points in SoFA history, but it always fell off. I feel determined that this is the last time that’s going to happen. We’re bringing authenticity. It’s important to me to create this sense of a little city in San Jose and allow that sense of community to evolve around music and coffee.
Entire article originally appeared in Issue 5.4 Form
Print Issue is Sold Out
“I’m intrigued by the idea of how and where we live, how we relate to each other, and our physical environment.”
Susan O’Malley
We were honored to interview Susan O’Malley and consider her a friend. Her work reflects her soft voice, gentle spirit, and kindness. We were inspired by her desire to make a positive change in our world. We will miss her and her influence. Our prayers and condolences go out to her family.
You graduated from Stanford with a degree in urban studies. How has that helped you become an artist?
Urban studies have always influenced the way that I see art or think about my own practice. I’m intrigued by the idea of how and where we live, how we relate to each other, and our physical environment. Urban studies help me explore ways to think differently about the space we inhabit.
The residential project I did in San Jose in 2008 was all about that; I was fascinated with suburban spaces, and private and public spaces. By re-arranging what was already available, like leaves on a lawn or the frost on a house, I was able to bring some fun responses in relation to everyday life.
In a text project I am doing, I am interested in how these spaces can be intervened through different texts. They might look a little like advertisements, but also part of it is an art project. I really love the blurriness of presenting work in this context because sometimes it’s not important, whether it’s an art project or just something that happens in the streets.
What’s important is creating a space that will shift one’s perspective to see the world a little bit differently. How wonderful would it be if we could leave our homes and look at everything with a sense of wonder?
Art has a way of heightening that experience for us.
So you were already thinking in terms of art space creation rather than going into city planning?
Focusing on community organizations and working as an intern at non-profits, it took me a while to put it all together. I wasn’t really exposed to contemporary art as an undergrad. As a graduate, I started going to more art shows and seeing the flexibility and expansiveness in the way these artists asked questions. It was exciting and much different than an academic way of viewing the world. It was a way of thinking I had never been exposed to, and it sparked a light in me.
How do you see the role of art in society?
That is such a huge question because there are so many different perspectives in the world. Art can help push us forward to be more radical, but it is not the answer to everything. It is just one thread of our cultural makeup. Art can help us see things in different ways and relieve the stress of everyday life. Art heightens our sense of space and how we relate to each other.
We live in such an isolated way. The way we’ve organized San Jose, it is a pretty decentralized city. If there are ways to go downtown, see different things, and connect to that space, that will begin to bring people together in a worthwhile way.
What are you working on now?
I have been working on two projects as part of Montalvo Art Center’s exhibition with two other artists, Leah Rosenberg and Christine Wong Yap. One is called “Happiness Is…” and is part of Montalvo’s 20-month theme, Flourish: Artists Explore Wellbeing.
One of my projects is a “Walk” on the Montalvo grounds. Along the walk, there are certain texts and signs that will hopefully help the walker be focused and reflective. Walking is such a simple thing that can make you feel good. It is amazing how altering your body can change your feelings.
The other project is creating a space within the gallery where people can sit down and talk to one another. One of the things I was most interested in in this space was getting people on the floor because being on the floor is so different than being in a chair; it brings a sense of groundedness. There is a lot of science behind what we do with our bodies and how that chemically makes us feel different. This project is about how our bodies exist in the world and how our bodies’ position and activity can change the way we feel.
Doing a project on happiness has been fun, as I had to think about what makes me happy. It comes down to trying to notice the small things. If we focus more on our current state of mind, on smaller things and the things that make us happy, and put those into practice, then maybe we can be happier.
One of the things that I notice makes me happy is being in dialogue with people. Talking to other people and sharing ideas really bring me a lot of happiness. It’s something I need to focus on more. Just noticing that has given me more permission to pursue it as a practice. So rather than meeting someone for coffee and feeling good about connecting with them, it is actually what I do as my work. That has been a really interesting result of working on these projects.
A public celebration of her life and contributions as an artist and curator is planned for March 22, 2015, 2- 5pm, at Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, 701 Mission Street, San Francisco.
In lieu of flowers, the family asks for donations to the Susan O’Malley Memorial Fund for the Artsto support emerging artists and to commission a permanent installation of Susan’s work. Non tax-deductible donations can be made via Paypal (by using the donation button below or sending to inmemoryofsusan2015@gmail.com), or by check to the Susan O’Malley Art Fund (acct # for memo field 036838938). Checks can be deposited at any Bank of the West branch or mailed to Charles Angle, 555 Market Street, Suite 100, San Francisco, CA 94105.
The interview originally appeared in Issue 5.0: UNDERGROUND
It’s about what you give back and how you change and help other people to become their best selves. I just want to give to others what they have to me.
Bay Area curler Gabrielle Coleman stands out in a sport that doesn’t.
Most Tuesday nights, Gabrielle Coleman can be found inside Stanley’s Sports Bar at Sharks Ice in downtown San Jose. She doesn’t drink, she’s not an employee, and she says she’s never been a great skater either. She’s not there for the hockey. She’s there for curling.
Once a week from 9:30pm to 11:30pm, Coleman and 40 or so other curlers join up at Sharks Ice for a curling league and a good time. Coleman, however, has aspirations that many of her co-competitors do not. The 33-year-old is such a good curler that she’s competed at the national level, even reaching the US Olympic trials in 2009.
Yes, her sport is curling, that shuffleboard-like ice sport that draws a lot of attention every four years when the Winter Olympics come around. But most of the time, it is forgotten here in the United States. There are a little more than 16,000 curlers across the country on record. Canada, regularly the favorite to win gold at the Olympics, has approximately 1.3 million by comparison, despite a population that is little more than a 10th of the size of the United States’.
Coleman and her coach Barry Ivy are part of one of the largest clubs in California, the San Francisco Bay Area Curling Club. Established in 1958, their mission, along with the rest of the United States’ curling community, is to help the sport grow. Recently, it’s worked. Participation has grown by more than 50 percent since 2002, with an even more impressive 16 percent jump from 2010 to 2011.
For Coleman, it isn’t just the country’s reputation she’s trying to improve, but her specific region’s. Ivy calls the West Coast “the boonies of the curling world,” and while this statement is in jest, it’s not far from the truth. There are very few competitive curlers from the country’s Pacific coast. In fact, just one of the 10 teams at the US Olympic trials in 2009 was based west of Bismarck, North Dakota. Most are located in the country’s longtime curling hubs like Minnesota and Wisconsin.
Coleman, a Mountain View native, was a part of that sole western team, based in Seattle, Washington. She was also the lone competitor—of 42 total—who resides in California. It’s that obstacle that makes her curling commitment so much more demanding.
Paying out of her own pocket, she flies to Seattle or Vancouver almost every weekend from August to March for training. During competitions, she has to take time away from her work at NBC, which she credits as being not only accepting and understanding of her love for curling but “enormously supportive.” She doesn’t mind the commitment though and finds the bright side to her travels. “It’s like a mini-vacation every week.”
Other curlers live nearer to facilities dedicated to curling, and those among the highest ranked teams receive funding from the US Olympic Committee. Coleman and her teammates do not. As Ivy puts it, “People who play at a dedicated facility can go down and throw rocks at lunchtime for an hour.” The lack of practice time Coleman can get during the week presents a real challenge that other curlers, even in Seattle, don’t always face.
But while they have their advantages, Coach Ivy believes Coleman has some of her own. “If the rest of the United States curling world at the elite level was as committed as Gabrielle, we would be winning Olympics,” Ivy says.
The competition hasn’t always been that strong. Just seven years ago, Coleman attended her first curling event, just hoping to have a fun experience. Challenged by her brother that she couldn’t make nationals, she decided it was on. Within a year, she was competing at the women’s club nationals, who had trouble fielding enough teams for their 10-team tournament. That year, only seven teams had signed up to compete. This year, there are 18 teams vying for those 10 spots.
The US Olympic trials have also grown more competitive in recent years. The field of 10 from 2009 has been trimmed to just four for the upcoming 2013 trials. For Coleman, this means getting back will be harder than ever. In 2009, her team finished eighth, which wouldn’t be good enough to qualify this time around. Coleman knows her team has to win at nationals to qualify, since two teams have already qualified and the national governing body chooses the fourth.
She gives her team an outside chance at coming out with the win if they “have a good week.” Ivy is especially high on their chances. “Don’t let her fool you,” he says. “This is definitely doable for Gabrielle.”
While the increase in the sport’s popularity has made her goals more difficult, the NBC Bay Area morning show director is ecstatic to see so many new curlers, not only at her own club but around the country. As a member of the board for SFBACC, growing the curling community is important to her. She’s trying to help the club secure ice that’s dedicated to curling for the first time in 20 years, rather than having to share ice time with hockey players and recreational skaters.
Just like the sport as a whole, the Princeton grad has come a long way since 2006. She recalls her first national competition as something of a nightmare for Ivy, who tried to lead four curlers with about three years of combined experience. “I was so lost,” Coleman says. “In my first game, I had to ask my opponent when to start.”
Since then, she’s gone on to write an e-book on her experiences, directed at helping other beginning curlers. Break Through Beginner Curling details everything from curling basics to the confusing nature of large national competitions.
At Sharks Ice, it’s clear how much interest Coleman has in teaching others, taking time out to encourage a teenage girl who was just watching to give it a try. But while there is an inclination to teach, she also hopes to curl competitively for a long time.
The sport keeps drawing her back because, no matter how good she gets, she feels there will always be a new challenge. “Everybody who’s any good can throw the stone accurately,” she says. “It’s the complexity and the strategy of the shots at the higher levels that keep getting tougher.”
The unity and bond of a team is another aspect she loves. For casual observers, the team aspect might not be as obvious on TV as it is to those who know the game. “From the instant I release the shot, me and my teammates are communicating,” Coleman emphasizes. “It’s like any other team sport. We can’t win unless we’re all on the same page.”
On the ice, that communication is unmistakable. The sweeping of the ice, one of the most unusual aspects of the sport, relies on it. If their timing on when to speed up or slow down the stone is off just a little bit, the shot could end very differently.
Whether her team wins or not, Coleman hopes she and her teammates can be good examples of the increasing geographical diversity of the game in the United States. She also recognizes that her personal success can help grow the sport on the West Coast, especially in California.
“For me to win, for us to win, it would be a big deal,” she says. Both Coleman and Ivy believe that that kind of statement at nationals could lead to big improvements in not only her own curling environment but the West Coast overall. It would go a long way towards helping to find the dedicated curling ice SFBACC is still looking for.
From experience, Ivy knows that a lot of clubs don’t go to the lengths that SFBACC does. They require lessons for those wanting to join any of the club’s leagues, and Ivy knows they lose some curlers because of it. But he and Coleman both have a strong interest in passing the culture of curling on, and they want to do it the right way. “A lot of clubs will say ‘wing it’ and send you out on your own,” Ivy says. “We want to teach.”
Coleman remembers going to those training sessions and finding much more help than she thought she would. Though it was swarmed with close to 200 people, she said important members came up to her encouraging her to stay on because of the lack of women in curling. Ivy was one of those early tutors that kept her confidence and interest high, even if it was her brother’s challenge that made it stick.
With some of the founders of the club having moved on, Coleman calls Ivy the “resident expert” and lists him as her greatest inspiration on her USCA profile. She wants to give back, just like he has to her. “Even though it is about trying to be the best curler you can be and winning medals, it’s not really about that,” she says. “It’s about what you give back and how you change and help other people to become their best selves. I just want to give to others what they have to me.”
Growing up in the Bay Area, newspaper readers got to know Herb Caen and Leigh Weimers over their morning cup of coffee. That’s how it was. Regular columnists became old friends or the source of a good argument. Relative newcomer Sal Pizarro is only forty years old and just six years into the job, compared to Weimers’ forty year tenure. Pizarro is still finding his voice, both in print and through new forms of social media. Published six days a week, his Around Town column for the Mercury News is witty but never opinionated. When will he bring on the funny or unleash the grumpy old guy in the corner?
“I have been doing the column for six years, but I don’t feel like I have earned the right to be that crotchety yet,” asserts Pizarro. “It is being encouraged at the paper for me to insert more of my own voice into the column. I didn’t want it to be that suddenly you’re going from Leigh to this guy, and we don’t know who he is. I feel more comfortable making comments about what I perceive going on in the city. Taking what people tell me and sort of throwing it through my head and saying, ‘Here’s the word on the street.’”
So how will Pizarro make the column his own? Could he become a gossip columnist? He answers, “That’s so funny. I ask people who say they wish my column had more gossip in it, ‘What do you think is gossip? Do you want to know who’s dating who?’ Because no one really cares. It’s just not that kind of community.” Just by talking to so many people, Pizarro knows the local community well. “People are very comfortable telling me things because they’re pretty sure I’m not going to print it. And that’s something Leigh taught me: always know more than you write. So I sometimes know things that I really can’t write.”
But he still comes across as someone with a genuine desire to get positive news out there again. “My goals are to be entertaining and informative, and a lot of times that translates into being the person who writes about the good things. I happen to love that idea because I’ll say, ‘If I don’t write about this, no one else is going to.’ A missing girl in Morgan Hill is going to trump a lot of things I write about. It’s going to take up three reporters that aren’t going to be able to cover the Boy Scouts Character Awards. So I like doing that.”
He also likes being a stay-at-home dad with an 8-month-old son and a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter. Pizarro does diapers and daycare from 7am until 3pm when his wife comes home from work as Public Relations Director for Presentation High School. They chat together and do a little download of the day’s events before he sets off for his job, which he will work at until late. His parents chip in and watch the children two mornings a week, which frees him up for the occasional morning interview or charity luncheon. Most of his writing is done at night in his converted office in the garage. His daily deadline is noon, so he can edit and read through his column the following morning during naps. “Not mine,” he quips.
The social butterfly lifestyle is not so easy when combined with caring for children all day. “Some days it’s really exhausting. I can be with the kids for basically nine hours, and then I’ve got to go to an event. But, on the plus side, after nine hours with really small kids, it’s nice to be able to talk to adults and have a glass of wine,” Pizarro says with a grin. “I get to spend a lot of time with my kids, so any time I think about complaining about my job and my hours, I just think: I get to spend all day with my kids and how many guys do I know who get to do that that aren’t collecting unemployment checks?”
When Pizarro gets dolled up for a Saturday night event, his daughter Mia often asks him if he is going to a wedding. “I don’t know where she picked that up. No,” he says. “Daddy’s going to work. I feel especially guilty because before we had kids, my wife used to go to a lot of these things with me, and it was great fun, and now we pick our spots carefully. It’s partly her choice, too, because she says if we’re going to use up a babysitting chip, then she doesn’t want to be going to work. Let’s go to a movie or dinner.”
While he relishes the flexibility of his job, Pizarro also misses the structure of his thirteen years working as an editor at the Merc—starting work at 4pm and clocking out by midnight. Many of those years were spent as Leigh Weimers’ direct editor. “Those years really prepared me. I’ve learned how [Leigh] took something and made it briefer. That’s the challenge of writing in this space. I have about 450 words a day. I try to fit as much as I can in. I will spend a lot of time trimming things down, and sometimes an entire item will go away because it’s sort of like doing surgery: once you’ve had to cut off both legs and both arms, what do you have left?”
Some of what Pizarro writes about comes directly from real people who call or e-mail and say, “I know about this thing that happened. It’s kind of a funny story. Chances are, if I’ve got room, I’ll get it in.”
A big chunk of his work concerns deciding which event to attend. His record is four in one night. “I don’t recommend that. It was crazy—downtown San Jose, Palo Alto, Mountain View. Driving all over the place and then stopping in at an event for an hour, and then moving on to the next thing. Politicians do that all the time, but it’s a little easier for them because all they have to do is shake a few hands, and then they can leave.”
Unfortunately, Pizarro has no entourage driving him around or sorting his mail. “If I had dreams, it would be to have an assistant of some sort. I always read about how Herb Caen had somebody going through his mail, taking his calls. Having the same general type of column, people make that assumption. Clearly you must have a staff. No, I don’t.”
Driving around is not so difficult because he knows the area like the back of his hand—Pizarro grew up in San Jose. “Being downtown in San Jose in the 1970s was, well…dangerous is a kind word. One of the reasons I transferred from San Jose State to Santa Barbara was because downtown San Jose wasn’t really there yet. The Jazz Festival, Cinequest, and Music in the Park all started in the ’90s because there was nothing to do. Now it’s changed with Sofa District getting going, cool places to eat. Eventually, San Jose grew on me to the point that I did not want to leave.”
But the future is uncertain for Pizarro—at least in print. Pointing at the paper, he says, “I think you will be surprised if we have that ten years from now. If you had said that to me when I started in 2005, I would have laughed and laughed and laughed, but now it is where we are. We have a point where we need to figure out how to make money digitally. It’s not just online ads; it’s a whole host of possibilities which aren’t just print advertising. That’s the joke. If Fry’s or Macy’s goes out of business, we’re in a lot of trouble.”
Pizarro’s tenure began during the recession, and he admits, “It’s strange thinking that I’ve only really done this job during hard times. I’d be really interested to see what things are like when the economy is up because it makes people a lot happier. I can’t imagine how many times I have written ‘despite the current economic woes.’ I might as well have that saved on a copy-and-paste.”
Many of the colleagues Pizarro began working with twenty years ago at the Merc are gone. “When I started writing this column, we had an art writer…a philanthropy writer, a dance writer. We had more education and theatre writers, and all those positions have gone away. And so everything eventually found its way to me. The reason I am saying this is because during all these bad times, these agencies need more help, and I am trying to get the word out. When things get good again—and I am counting on that they will—the agencies won’t need me as much. Wow, I am going to have some space to fill.”
But Pizarro has a new audience, and it is online. Social media allows him to express himself more freely, without space limitations. He can even crack jokes. “Twitter and Facebook are interesting,” agrees Pizarro. “This is maybe where eventually the crotchety old man will come out one day, but I still feel like it’s better for me to get in someone’s event or an extra few names than to make some joke that I’d have no problem making on Twitter or Facebook.”
Take last Friday night, for instance. Pizarro was covering a fundraising gala. “I was one of the few guys wearing a tie because it was all venture capitalists and they are all in shirts and sport coats looking hip. That’s what I was tweeting about. ‘Man, I am the only one wearing a tie.’ Or ‘MC Hammer’s here.’ So I am tweeting all these things, but none of that got into my column because that’s not about their organization—it’s just me making funny asides. I hope at some point we have someone covering their event and writing a story about what they do, and then I don’t have to carry that weight, and I can say okay, here’s what was fun about that. They had the most crazy expensive scotch I’ve ever seen at an event. They made fun of Jack Dorsey for wearing jeans by pointing out that Reed Hoffman from LinkedIn didn’t.”
“I don’t miss writing about gossip that much, but who knows, if I do this job for another twenty years, I may have a lot more bile,” says Pizarro. “I may just start writing about all these youngsters who are who knows doing what…I can’t imagine what this place is going to be like twenty years from now.” With any luck, he will be a little more crotchety but still bringing his positive message to a new generation of readers in San Jose and beyond.
Article originally appeared in Issue 4.2 Vacation (Print SOLD OUT)
“In the end, however, we get our stories, the important thing is to keep passing them on.”
People walking into Hicklebee’s at 1378 Lincoln Avenue in downtown Willow Glen are entering a child’s imagination. Here, the best in children’s literature lines the shelves, and the characters peer out from the walls. From the worn cushions to the mismatched chairs, Hicklebee’s is every bit an independent bookstore. There are no gleaming register lines or stacks of discount buys; instead, there is a bathtub filled with pillows (for reading in, of course) and Clifford the Big Red Dog’s collar.
On the walls, there is a collection that can only be deemed “Hicklebee’s Museum.” Framed original illustrations from Rosemary Wells’ Ruby and Max occupy a place of honor next to a model of the plug from King Bidgood’s in the Bathtub. A sign hangs nearby reading “Diagon Alley” right next to Charlotte spinning a web. What wall space remains is covered in signatures and drawings from almost every famous author or illustrator in children’s literature, including Jules Feiffer, illustrator of the classic Phantom Tollbooth, and Harry Potter creator J.K. Rowling. Yet what makes the illustrations all the better is that many of them are scrawled across bathroom doors. It’s bathroom graffiti for children.
Enter Valerie Lewis, the last remaining founder and current co-owner of Hicklebee’s. “Sometimes we have a hard time explaining to [the children] why they can’t write on the walls at home,” she laughs. Lewis points out more artifacts littering the tops of shelves and signatures along doorways from authors and illustrators who have visited the store over the years. “We never know what they’re going to sign or what they’re going to do,” she says. “I always think to myself, ‘I know this person, and they just drew their character on a toilet.’”
When Hicklebee’s began over 33 years ago, the walls were blank. “It was like the artist looking at a canvas,” Lewis remembers. “I love the fact that I had this store and no experience and a zillion possibilities and that there was no end to the possibilities. I loved that idea.” Over the years, these same possibilities have shaped what has been recognized as one of the nation’s best children’s bookstores. Hicklebee’s stands alone in a market where the gap between quality children’s literature, found in the libraries of academia, and the overly commercialized form of children’s entertainment, found in modern bookstores, looms large.
In the beginning, however, it was simply the collective dream of four friends who had no experience owning a bookstore. “We all came in my house and sat in the kitchen, and everybody brought their favorite children’s books,” Lewis recalls. “I would open them up and see this one is from Harper and Row, and I would call information in New York.” Eagerly, Lewis would contact the desired publishers for catalogs. “We would think, ‘They are going to be so excited when they find out about us.’”
As straightforward as Hicklebee’s beginning was, the way it has unfolded and transformed has been anything but simple. Rather, Hicklebee’s has metamorphosed into something more complex over the decades through the collective efforts of authors, illustrators, and even the readers. During a tour, Lewis gently pulls down an unassuming brown shopping bag labeled “Ollivanders” from a top shelf. A child who frequents the store brought it back from a trip to England and gave it to Lewis for the museum. Peeking inside the bag, customers can see a magic wand nestled among the tissue paper wrapping. “We just started it,” Lewis emphasizes. “It was the authors who did the additions.” She points to a three-foot-tall cardboard cutout of a gorilla hanging from the ceiling. “See that ape?” she asks. “Well, Peggy Rathmann is a Caldecott award-winning illustrator. One day, she and her husband drove up. They opened the door, pulled out a ladder and a rope, and hung that.”
“Let’s go hang it at Hicklebee’s” is the quintessential thought behind this local treasure. With the opening and subsequent closing of the big chain bookstores, and the advent of discount online shopping, this small independent store has weathered the storm of consumer habits. Lewis and the shop’s associates often observe patrons browsing books, scanning their barcodes with pricing apps on smartphones, and then walking out the doors, perhaps only to order the same book with next-day free shipping and no sales tax from the internet. Some even download the books straight to their devices. Lewis comments powerfully on the recent trend: “When people compare electronic books for children and picture books for children, they are comparing apples and artichokes. An electronic book is no more a book than a radio or a television is a book. They are all telling stories, but a book looks like that, in my opinion.” Lewis points to a stack of books with crisp white pages, nestled between bright covers. One can’t help but think of the difference between seeing a photograph of a painting and being able to see the texture of the brush strokes on the original in a gallery.
Yet, Lewis remains optimistic. “We are not against electronic books; we are just pro-paper,” she says, laughing. So what’s next in Hicklebee’s storyline? More author visits, children’s story times, craft days, reading clubs, and, of course, additions to the walls and shelves. Customers continue to come in for the magic and wisdom that can only be found at the heart of Willow Glen and at the hands of Lewis’ expert staff, so she is not too worried. “In the end, however we get our stories, the important thing is to keep passing them on.”
