Trap Door Sun: Interviews with Interesting People

Brooklyn Rider

Sat, 02 Oct 2010 07:33:17 GMT

If you ever thought classical music was boring, then you probably weren’t listening to the right people perform it. The music of Brooklyn Rider is anything but boring. In fact, it is a fantastical journey of sounds and textures and emotions.

Their latest recording, Dominant Curve, features works by Debussy as well as pieces by Rider’s Colin Jacobsen, John Cage, Kojiro Umezaki, and by Dmitri Yanov-Yanovski. Curve is nothing short of brilliant as it continues the quartet’s tradition of somehow capturing the sound of raw emotions.

If you haven’t had the pleasure of listening to Brooklyn Rider then now is the time. Click over to your favorite online music purveyor and grab a copy of their latest album. Enjoy!

TDS: First, tell us a little bit about Brooklyn Rider.

ERIC JACOBSEN: We've all known each other for over 10 years. In some cases we've played together for our whole lives—whether it being tennis or tag or Beethoven.

Many stars had to align for Brooklyn Rider to begin. Johnny and Nick were roommates in college; some of us met playing in a beautiful chamber orchestra called Wild Ginger Philharmonic; we all like eating and drinking; we all have loved playing chamber music for many years and yes, now we all live in Brooklyn. It might be naive to say there is only one special someone out there for everyone, but I do strongly believe that many personality and characteristic traits have to agree for a marriage (oh yes, and for a quartet).

TDS: You are (self) described as genre-defying and (by others) as "trendy" or "hipster". You are also respected by "traditional" classical musicians. Is it difficult to maintain the balance that makes you appealing to the different audiences?

JOHNNY GANDELSMAN: That's a good question. "Trendy", "Hipster"? What are those definitions, anyway? They might apply to the way we dress. They might refer to venues we like to perform in (Nublu, Joe's Pub, etc.), places where a set by a string quartet might be unexpected. They certainly don't refer to the actual music we play, at least in my mind.

We put a lot of thought into programming - for example: a concert in DC had Schubert's "Death and the Maiden" quartet on the same half as Philip Glass' 2nd quartet, "Company". To some, that kind of half might seem strange. To us, the connection between the 2 are very clear: both composers use seemingly simple melodies and harmonic and textural structure to express human emotion in incredibly deep and powerful ways. And after working on Philip Glass's quartets (we're in the process of recording all of them), we find that perhaps Schubert was at heart a minimalist as well.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this, we see the string quartet as an amazingly broad medium for music making, much broader than the standard quartet repertoire (which in itself is inexhaustible). The world we now live in provides limitless opportunities for creative inspiration; all the music of the world is at your fingertips, just a few clicks away. The possibilities are endless. It's a great time to be a musician.

As far as balancing our appeal to a wide audience, I think all we can do is continue our creative work in an honest way, and hope that what we are passionate about translates to our audiences and builds a mutual respect and trust, whether it's late Beethoven or Bon Iver.

TDS: When performing the work of "the classics" in an experimental (or more progressive) nature, are there times when you have to pull back and say to yourself we need to be truer to the piece? Or, do you interpret it how you see it and not worry too much about anything else?

NICHOLAS CORDS: First of all, I think that most of the great composers who wrote for quartet in our tradition—Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and on and on—were themselves progressive in their language and approach as composers relative to their time. It is true that they came out of established traditions, but they also had creative souls, which fueled new ideas and extended boundaries. I think this same thought can be applicable to the performance of string quartets. So, if our performances of the core repertoire come across as outside of the norm, it also comes from an internal desire to move our tradition ahead in response to the time we live, inspired by our unique musical experiences as individuals.

The tradition of quartet playing is an absolutely amazing tradition, but we really prefer not to only take it as an accepted performance tradition. Starting with a clean slate allows us to see the piece without intermediaries. In our way of working, that often necessitates new ways of performing a familiar work.

TDS: When you first started out, were you ever concerned that you might be ostracized by traditional performers because of how you play? (Or do you feel like sometimes you are?)

COLIN JACOBSEN: I think we formed Brooklyn Rider partly in response to your question! There was a sense that we could not pursue our aesthetic ideals in music as fully in any other situation as with each other.

We all went to conservatories (Juilliard and Curtis) and worked with teachers like Robert Mann of the Juilliard Quartet, Arnold Steinhardt of the Guarneri, and Harvey Shapiro of the Primrose, and played for people like Isaac Stern. So we were lucky to study with some of the greatest upholders of the classical tradition. However, we did feel that there was a certain tunnel-vision that went along with conservatory training (possibly coming more from some of our peers than teachers) based on a kind of instrumental athleticism that seemed to want to “slam-dunk” a musical phrase.

So, we sought refuge, and rebellion, in a time-honored way. We went to the past in order to move forward. We listened to tons of historical recordings, not of 50 or 60 years ago, but from the years 1900-1940 more or less. And what we discovered there was an amazing freedom, a sense that the spirit rather than the letter of the composer was being honored.

How was this freedom and clarity achieved? We felt partly it was using less vibrato, focusing more on blend of chords, allowing harmonies to speak for themselves and vocalizing melodic lines with the use of portamenti (sliding from one note to another).

Then, while these ideas were brewing, we started playing in the Silk Road Ensemble with Yo-Yo Ma. This was a whole other education that opened our ears to many new sonic possibilities, rhythms, melodic inflections, improvisation, etc. Many of the musicians from (Iran, India, China and Azerbaijan for example) in Silk Road Ensemble both deeply know their tradition and are seen negatively by some “purists” within their tradition, because they dare to innovate, try new things out. Their example helped embolden us to follow our vision with Brooklyn Rider.

One exciting development within classical music is that there are more composer/arranger/performers out there now then there were in the past 50 years or so, I believe. I think if you’ve tried to create something, you have much more empathy for the creative process and want to know why a composer wrote something the way they did. This means that the focus immediately goes more to the content of the music rather than how you sound on your instrument. And allows you to meet a composer on a more equal footing rather than merely as an executer of their scribblings on a page, which can never tell the whole story! So I think there are some kindred spirits out there.

In the end, I don’t know if our teachers would approve or like everything we do. But if we do end up teaching some day, I doubt we’d want our students to copy everything we do either!

As to the rest, we’ve learned that unfortunately you can’t please everyone. You can only follow your vision with deep commitment and try to communicate it in the moment and hopefully enough people will appreciate it.

TDS: What drew you to Debussy on your recent album, Dominant Curve?

JOHNNY GANDELSMAN: Claude Debussy is one of our heroes! He came from an established French tradition, and already in school he was somewhat of a rebel, looking outside of his tradition for inspiration. He would do unorthodox things, and when asked about them, his reply was: "Pleasure is the law."

It seems arrogant, but also genius. As an artist you have to do what you have to do, regardless of what's expected of you, what's popular. In 1889 Debussy went to the World Exposition in Paris, where he heard music from Indonesia, China, Middle East. His world was completely changed, as his musical language was enriched beyond measure with all the sights and sounds of the unfamiliar world. His innovations expanded the Western Musical language tremendously, and paved the way for young composers to look to the East for inspiration. Debussy's string quartet is one of staples of the quartet repertoire, and the first piece we worked on as Brooklyn Rider, about 5 years ago. We felt that it was a great piece to build an album around.

TDS: Do you think your music is drawing younger people into the classics? Or, are you re-defining the genre to appeal to a younger audience? In other words, are you changing their tastes or simply appealing to them?

COLIN JACOBSEN: One good thing about being a musician today is that people, and especially young people, seem to have very eclectic tastes when it comes to music. They are less likely to stick to one category of music then any generation that has come before.

However, if you think about music as information, (which in a digital age seems to be more and more the case) there’s such a huge amount of it available at any moment that it can be overwhelming. How does your music stand out in such a crowded situation?

We believe it actually works the old-fashioned way: your music touches someone at a concert (or online or on the radio, etc.) in a meaningful spiritual, mental or visceral way and they tell their friends about it and slowly the word gets out. When we played at South By Southwest in Austin, Texas this year as part of NPR’s showcase, it was in a lineup of acts that were mostly from the indie rock universe in a club setting. We wondered how people were going to react to a string quartets’ presence and found that within a few minutes, this mostly young audience was one of the most attentive and engaged that we had played in front of to date.

Lesson learned: young people who are serious about music are looking for music with real depth and don’t necessarily care which genre it comes from.

Another good thing about being a musician today (and I think this goes for all genres) is that there is more experimentation happening. Perhaps this is because the old structures of recording companies and touring models are changing. It seems as though fewer people are able to sell a monstrous number of albums, but there’s more room for bands to get a sizable and very loyal following, even though (or maybe because) they have a willingness to take risks.

I suppose there are a few concrete things we do that reach out to younger audiences: We play in venues where they feel more comfortable, (i.e. clubs, bars, outdoor venues, etc.)
We write and arrange music for the quartet ourselves—something that is taken for granted in the jazz and pop worlds but has been largely absent from the classical over the last 80-odd years. When we program works from the classical canon like Debussy, for example, we try to put it in a context that doesn’t refer exclusively to the insular world of classical music but reaches out to music of our time, music of other cultures, pop and jazz worlds.

We also don’t assume that just because a piece is written by Beethoven, and is supposed to be great, an audience is necessarily going to connect with it. It’s possible that the aura of “greatness” that hovers around a Beethoven, or a Shakespeare, actually does them a disservice in that it obscures the very human element present in their works. I’d like to think that our rehearsal process is one of discovery that allows us to enter into a healthy relationship with whatever we’re playing and view the concert as an extension of that process. It allows for a beautiful out-of-body experience: hopefully we’re not just delivering a polished ready-to-go, packaged version of whatever we’re playing. We’re also listening as if we’re one of the audience members in the room, in that moment. In an ideal world, that identification with the listener would allow us to connect meaningfully with an audience of any age or background! We’re working on it.

TDS: A lot of the great composers had some sort of inner turmoil or self-destructive behavior. Is there something about yourselves that you don't like, or would like to change, but that also makes you able to write and play the way you do?

ERIC JACOBSEN: Yes.

TDS: What's next for you guys?

NICHOLAS CORDS: Generally speaking, I think we are trying to stay fully committed to several areas that we feel passionately about. We love the existing quartet tradition; you might see us move sometime soon into the universe of the late Beethoven quartets, for example.

We love new music and are always looking for ways to bring new works into the world by composers with whom we have sympathetic relationships.

We also love instrumental collaborations; we plan to do more with Martin Hayes, the great Irish fiddler sometime in the near future. We feel very comfortable in the recording studio and try to think a number of projects in advance. To that end, we have been recording the string quartets of Philip Glass and have loose plans for a Brooklyn Rider EP of mixed repertoire.

We love the creative possibilities within our own group; Colin is writing a new piece this year for our longstanding collaboration with the Persian kemancheh virtuoso Kayhan Kalhor. We have also given some thought to writing a group composition—we'll see! All of that being said, we also like to stay light on our feet so that we are able to respond to new opportunities when they come knocking!

The Elegant Gliding

Sat, 03 Apr 2010 10:25:27 GMT

It’s hard to find a picture of Mary Osborne where she’s not smiling ear to ear. Maybe it’s because she just got done with a great surf session or maybe it’s because she’s living her dreams. Probably, it’s a bit of both. Mary is that bright person in your life that sees life through the lens of their passion. That person who is always looking for the next ray of sunshine, the next adventure to unfold.

If you don’t have that kind of person in your life, then you need to get one. We suggest Mary be one of them. Her energy is contagious and her will is unbreakable. She will have success and she will have fun getting it. There’s always another wave, always another sunrise for Mary. Get to know her.

TDS: How has pursuing your dreams challenged and changed you?

OSBORNE: Pursuing my dreams shaped me entirely. I have learned so much about life and other cultures through surfing and traveling. Every adventure opens my eyes to new things. I am extremely grateful for what I have and don’t have. The challenges and risks I take have only made me a stronger, more educated and all around a better person. We all live on this planet together.

TDS: You dropped out of college to pursue surfing. Tell us about that decision?

OSBORNE: It wasn’t an easy decision for my family. My father and mother graduated from UCLA. My three older brothers all have college degrees. I didn’t enjoy school. I finished two years of college, received my A.A. degree, attempted UCSB (University of California Santa Barbara) and then dropped out.

I really wanted to try professional surfing. I dreamed of traveling the world and seeing other cultures. I was working late hours at night in restaurants, going to school fulltime while trying to juggle professional surfing. I was not focused; I was unhappy during classes and needed to make a change for myself.

I told my parents I was dropping out and they gave me two months to figure “it” out before they cut me off their dime. A week later I got a phone call to go film the MTV Surf Girls show for two months. I decided to go for it, try to pursue my dreams and see what happens.

Seven years later, I am still doing what I love (knock on wood). I have been very fortunate in all that I have done so far in life. I often think about going back to college—I can guarantee I will be much more interested in the classes I decide to take. Well, if I choose to.

TDS: Why longboard?

OSBORNE: I started out riding shorter boards then slowly started riding bigger boards. I realized I liked the way longboarding looked and felt. It was graceful, elegant, and I enjoyed the way the gliding felt under my feet when riding a wave. When I first started surfing I only rode bigger, heavy—more traditional longboards.

I eventually started traveling and quickly realized I had to learn to ride everything. Now I ride shortboards, fun boards, single-fin, twin-fin, tri-fin longboards, basically anything I can get my hands on.

TDS: You are competitive by nature. Originally you got into surfing because you wanted to be better than the boys. Now, as an adult, what is the most compelling aspect of the sport: competition, community, and spiritual/mental aspect?

OSBORNE: I used to love to compete. I wanted to be the best and as a teen I competed for many years. As I got older my competitive side started to slowly diminish. I don’t seem to get as much out of winning or losing anymore. Sometimes (yet very rarely) I still surprise myself while in a contest, when the horn blows I get jitters in my stomach and get that rush of adrenaline that turns me back into a competitor. I don’t think you really ever lose the feeling of being a competitor. It’s amazing to win and its even better to be humbled.

Now days, I just love the joy of surfing. It’s far more spiritual for me. I enjoy those gorgeous sunrises, beautiful sunsets, and fantastic memorable rides. I have met so many amazing people through the ocean. Being near or in the ocean clears my mind of the everyday distractions. It keeps me healthy, young, adventurous and, most importantly, thankful. I try to never take my time in the water for granted.

TDS: Describe your personality using only oceanic-surf terms.

OSBORNE: Flowing, mellow—this is tough. (laughs)

TDS: Former TDS interviewee Chris Malloy said, “Surfing has become Hollywood.” Do you agree with this statement?

OSBORNE: Yes, surfing has gone Hollywood. From a business standpoint it can be good. Mainstream can mean bringing in higher sales, a broader marketing audience and so on. For true surfers, it can be total nightmare. Crowds, kooks, wannabees and all that. Everyone wants to walk, talk, act and look like a surfer. It’s kind of funny. Lots of celebrities are now into surfing. It’s the new “hot” thing to do. I personally think the hype is kind of over by now. From another standpoint, surfing is amazing. You really can’t blame them for trying it right?

TDS: As a girl, how did surfing shape you? How can it shape younger girls growing up?

OSBORNE: I started surfing when I was about 15 years old. It’s that point in a teenagers life when you start to notice boys and drugs, and you begin to grow into an adult. I used surfing as an outlet for many things. The best part was that it kept me on track. I quickly fell in love with surfing, so the things that can easily interfere with a teenager’s life and get them off track never did for me.

I was motivated to become a better surfer. I loved everything the ocean embodied and how it made me feel when I was in and near it. The ocean gave me a sense of confidence, independence and adventure. I played a lot of team sports, like volleyball and basketball—I was even a cheerleader.

But the of biggest allure of surfing was the independence—the one-on-one of the sport. No one was ever telling me what to do in the water. If I felt like riding a wave, I could. If I felt like not riding a wave I could do that as well. There were no coaches or parents in the lineup. The only people yelling at me were maybe my three older brothers; that helped me become a better surfer.

For young girls it’s an amazing sport. The amount of courage and confidence that is gained just off catching one wave is truly amazing. I teach surfing to a lot of young girls (as well as adult women) and it’s truly amazing to see their attitude and confidence significantly increase after riding their very first wave.

As I continue to grow as a woman, surfing plays a huge part in my life, my outlook and beliefs. I continue to be shaped by what I do in the water. Surfing not only makes me a more confident woman, it makes me a stronger person.

TDS: What is the number one thing that builds a person’s confidence?

OSBORNE: There are so many elements in life that build a person’s confidence. For me, it’s when I overcome a challenge or succeed when taking a risk. I’ve found that believing in my ability allows me to gain more mental toughness—which is key to succeeding on the waves and in life.

TDS: You’ve said that when surfing, “You can stop, take a deep breath and pay attention to the moment. You’re alone with your thoughts, focusing on the elements.” Do you think that people in our culture have forgotten how to be quiet and focus on beautiful things in life?

OSBORNE: Our society is so caught up with the everyday chaos that it can be very hard to stop and take a breath. It’s almost as if many of us have forgotten how to do so. We live in a face-paced environment with technology that is ever changing. It can be very hard to put down the cell phone, take time off work or go completely off the grid on a vacation.

It doesn’t matter how you do it, but I think it’s truly important for a person’s soul, mind and body to stop, take a breath and appreciate life. Sometimes slowing down just a small amount during the frenzy can be rewarding.

TDS: You have travelled the world and seen amazing places and met countless people. What one thing is constant everywhere you go?

OSBORNE: We are all living under the same stars. It may be different time zones and completely foreign cultures but when it comes down to it we are all looking at the exact same stars. (Yes, there are some places where you can see more stars than others.)

TDS: What continues to amaze you every time you see it?

OSBORNE: So many things! I am easily amazed! Perfect waves in warm water. Islanders waving hello and goodbye as I peer at them from a dingy offshore. Foreign children with huge grins and innocent eyes. Remote islands with small villages on them. A beautiful sunset and sunrise. Snow falling. Kangaroos. A successful, happy marriage. Falling in love. History. Birth. Life. Death.

Sweetest In The Morning

Tue, 02 Mar 2010 07:23:29 GMT

Honey dripped melodies mixed with some honest Tennessee rumpus. This is the music of Jill Andrews. For years Jill’s tunes made waves in the music industry in the form of the alt-country band the everybodyfields. Now on her own, she continues to impress as her song writing blooms. Her style captivates, her melodies haunt, and her lyrics mix well with morning coffee.

So, if you haven’t heard her latest album, grab a copy, a friend, and a beer and enjoy late at night under summer’s stars.

TDS: You have had a lot of change in the past year, personally. You have gotten married and had a baby. How have those changes affected your song writing and touring?

ANDREWS: Having our baby has effected everything the most. One hundred percent. Songwriting now happens when I get a chance to do it. I have to really schedule time to song write. I have to schedule time to do a lot of things. I have to ask can you come over and watch my baby for a couple hours while I tinker on the guitar. But Nico loves music so I have started to play guitar around him a lot and he is so enthralled by it and he sits and stares at the strings and really like it.

TDS: You have said before that song writing process does not come naturally. So now it is maybe even more difficult because of time. How does the process work for you?

ANDREWS: Well, like I said, I really have to make myself sit down and play guitar and write. I do have those moments where something will hit me and whoa, boom, bang, I have a song. But that only happens a couple times a year. The other times I have to really sit down and put my nose to the grindstone a little bit and just work at it.

I never sit down and say “I am going to write a song about such and such.” I never do that. I’m always in some sort of weird emotional, mental state—a dreamlike state almost. Like when you are really tired or so emotionally drained you are in a daze. That’s actually a great state-of-mind for me to write in. So, the morning groggy-time is a good song writing time.

TDS: What emotion would you say songs come to you in a more natural way—pain, joy?

ANDREWS: I would say a lot of them have come from pain. Most of them come from pain.

TDS: Is it a little easier to express yourself, or deal with that pain, through the writing process?

ANDREWS: Yeah, I think so. I am not much of a confrontational person. In fact, I’m pretty passive. So, sometimes when I come to a stalemate with somebody that I am having a hard time with and can no longer argue with I think, Okay, I am going to put pen to paper and then you will know exactly what I meant. (laughs) Not in a vindictive way—it’s just one of the ways I deal with things.

TDS: You once said that your song “A Way Out” was written for a friend of yours that was dealing with a hard time in their life. I am wondering what you think about music and it’s ability to heal, or point to healing. Or is music more passive?

ANDREWS: I really do think it can heal people, in so many ways. Melodies can really change people’s lives—and words, especially. Combining those two things is a magical experience for a lot of people.

I used to think that by being a musician I wasn’t doing anything special for anybody and that was something that I would struggle with. But now, after talking to people that have told me how much my music means to them—things like, “I listened to your music during a divorce I was going through” or “I listened to your music while having a baby” (laughs). All these things people have told me over the years, it really blows my mind.

TDS: Do you think coming to that realization has given a little more gravity to your songwriting? You have a bit of a responsibility when you write?

ANDREWS: Yeah, I think so. I know that I have a responsibility to my listeners—young or old—to write things that are going to be good (in a way). And lately my songs have been a little more hopeful. I think that has been a conscious and unconscious progression for me because that is what I want for people. I don’t want them to hear my songs and think, “Oh man the world is crashing down and everything is going to hell.” I don’t want that at all. I want people to listen to my songs and think that things can be really good. They might not be good right now, but things can be really good.

TDS: Where do you find hope?

ANDREWS: I’m kind of a blind optimist. I’ve always been that way, even when things are obviously really, really bad. I just stick with it and stick with it and stick with it until there is absolutely nothing else I can do but leave or get out of the situation. So, I don’t know where it comes from, maybe it is part of being a Gemini (laughs).

I always know that no matter how bad things get I still have Nico—that’s a steadying thought. Nothing gets in the way of my responsibility as Nico’s parent. No matter how bad my day is I know that I have this little guy—he’s so amazing, so beautiful. That’s something I can always fall back on.

TDS: What’s easier for you: love or music?

ANDREWS: Music. (laughs) Love is hard for everybody.

TDS: How would you define success for you as a person and is there conflict with that professionally?

ANDREWS: Yeah, I definitely do. For instance, if I wasn’t in music, if I didn’t have to be around Interstates that would take me far, far away from where I lived. And if I didn’t have to be in the same town that all my band members were in—I would love to move up to New Hampshire and live in a cabin on a bunch of land. Have a dog and play music and cook and learn how to knit. (laughs)

I kind of just want to be a grandma basically, without looking like a grandma or feeling like a grandma. But just have the most peaceful existence possible. That would be my utopia. Nothing to do but make coffee and breakfast, maybe bake muffins. Play with my son. Take a walk in the woods.

So professionally, of course, that conflicts a lot. I need to be around a city and where I live now is pretty central. If I lived in New Hampshire that would be tough.

TDS: We mentioned earlier some of the recent changes in your life – marriage and baby. The other big change, of course, is the breakup of the everybodyfields. I’m curious, what the biggest surprise of that whole situation has been for you?

ANDREWS: I think the biggest surprise for me was that the world wasn’t going to end. It was such a big part of my life. It was one hundred percent of my life for 5+ years and when we finally discussed giving it up, it was hard. It was everything I knew for a long time. But when it was done I realized, “Oh, I can still do this.”

When the everybodyfields were done I was thinking I was done with music. But, I had a lot of encouragement from people, especially my husband (who is now my manager) who said, “No, you’re not done, you can still do this. The everybodyfields, that was where you learned how to do it but now you have to carry on by yourself.”

TDS: Do you miss the collaboration aspect of being in a group?

ANDREWS: Well, I still work in a group. I have a band that plays with me all the time.

TDS: Are you writing with them?

ANDREWS: No, I wouldn’t say I’m writing with them. But I didn’t really write with anybody in the everybodyfields either. Sam and I wrote a little bit together in the beginning but really for the past 3 years we were doing it on our own.

With the new band it’s just so great. We get together and we work out the songs and we get them the way we all want them. And everyone is so great and talented. We are all so supportive and encouraging to each other. It is really a great atmosphere for me, and them, to be in. It is the healthiest band I have ever been in—probably one of the healthiest bands ever.

When we travel we get in the van and we laugh for as many hours as it takes to get from Point A to Point B. We load in. We laugh some more. We eat. We drink a couple beers. We play a show. Then, we laugh all the way home. We have a great time.

TDS: When music is done for you, way down the road, and you look back, what do you want to be remembered for?

ANDREWS: Before I ever started playing music the one goal that I had was that I wanted to be able to write songs, play an instrument, and to sing. At the time I remember thinking, “I want to be like Joni Mitchell.” She did all those things. I never wanted to just stand on stage with a wireless microphone and move my hips a lot. (laughs)

I never wanted to do that. I guess my main goal is that I want to have my work respected by a good amount of people. I don’t want to be Celine Dion famous or anything like that. I just want people to look back and think “Oh, yeah, that girl. She was really good at what she did and I respect the way she did it.”

TDS: What’s next for you and the band?

ANDREWS: We are going to start working on a full-length album either in the spring or summer of 2010 and hopefully have that come out in the fall. We are going to be on the road a lot too.

The Ethereal Plane

Mon, 18 Jan 2010 11:46:51 GMT

After Tara Hogan agreed to do an interview for Trap Door Sun we scheduled a short "meet-n-greet" call. Two hours later we were fast friends. The conversation didn't linger on the surface. Things like, "How's the weather up your way?" or "So, how often do you update your Facebook status?" were not part of the discussion.

No. We talked of beauty, art versus commerce, compromising your art to pay a mortgage, aged materials and her passion of faraway Iceland. Tara views herself as an engineer who works at organizing space. She is concerned for the artistic and spiritual well being of our country, "The whole country has become Las Vegas … but truth will prevail." And wants to be part of the solution to bring beauty back, "I know things are broken, we've gotten lost in quantity … I want to be a positive contributor to the solution."

She wants to fix things with beauty.

Our conversation mirrored the autumn leaves—bright, colorful, honest. Tara is our friend. We think that after reading her interview you'll want to be her friend as well. Or at least you'll want to purchase her work, which is the closest thing to knowing Tara … bright, colorful, honest.

And though we may not have figured out where beauty comes from, we know you can experience a bit of it in our conversation with Tara Hogan. Enjoy.

TDS: You once said, "It is more difficult to be simple and edit out all the noise." You execute this in your work, how do you execute it in your personal life?

HOGAN: I have frequently purged my living space and cupboards. Your environment has a lot to do with how you feel. If you live in a cluttered messy space chances are you will feel cluttered too. I donate a lot of clothes to rescue missions and friends. This way my wardrobe is not a series of static elements sitting waiting to be worn. I can easily get dressed and know what I have to wear. The kitchen space is very important. It only has the food that I know will sit well in my body. It has been a long road to get to this place but it is possible. You just have to keep tweaking things. Letting things go. I also have a yoga practice and teach regularly. There is a small room in our house now that I use as my little practice space. I sit still as much as I can and also walk. It clears the mind's distractions and creates space. When you have no mental space or physical space, the body being overloaded with dead food, no nutrients from live foods, you feel stuffed. And, when we feel stuffed, we stuff more and become complicated messes.

TDS: Do you think that people complicate life with too much noise?

HOGAN: Mainstream society complicates things way too much. For example, look at the news. If you could even sit down and watch five minutes it is terribly complicated and full of mayhem. An unorganized thrown together mess. Society makes excuses for their behavior, uses band-aids to cover up the root problem. If we could just sit back and lose the ego for one moment then maybe we could create some stillness through the media, government, and education system.

Most people are ramped up. They have all these to do lists and plans. There is terrible dead plastic food being served in many places. It complicates the entire central nervous system and mind. The more pollution you put in the more you put out. We could learn a lot from going camping a few times a year and sleeping in a tent. You may come home and realize you do not even need a bed anymore. Think about it, the $1600 mattress set, bed frame, and all the sheet sets, etc., could be eliminated or pared down. The more you have the more you want. The less you have the more you can breathe.

TDS: What does the simplistic beauty in your art say about you as a person?

HOGAN: I am honest and based in nature. Nature is more powerful than me. The subtle details in my work stem from the ethereal plane. I let my intuition be the guide.

TDS: Do you think beauty points to truth?

HOGAN: Someone said beauty is in the eye of the beholder and beauty is only skin deep. It is true. The more beauty you feel inside from being kind hearted the more you will see it everywhere, even in obstacles. If you are one of those kind-hearted people then your messages of beauty are true. Otherwise, beauty can be misconstrued as seeing only the material plane.

TDS: You've been on your own (as Ink+Wit) now for a while. What are some things you've learned along the way as it relates to: your art, owning your own business, work/life balance, feeling inspired versus just getting the work done?

HOGAN: To be concise I would say business plans are good but like the weather they change. I had all these different ideas for INK+WIT and myself when I started in 2004. Some of them stuck around and some disappeared. Little by little I carved out small steps to evolve my vision and goals. I have always been a person to keep my old ideas and recycled ideas for when the time is right. I knew I would try a lot of different approaches to making and marketing my work and style.

On owning a business, it is important to remember why you started it and your role as the owner. Are you going to wear a lot of hats or delegate responsibility? I wear all the hats except the printing hat. I outsource to two very lovely printers here in the U.S.

It is a challenge to balance a business with your personal life. Often, it can become intertwined, especially if you work from home like I do. I have to set boundaries and be my own HR department. I have to allow myself to stop working at 5pm and take the weekends off. There have been weeks where I worked everyday for 12hrs a day. Not healthy, unless you're in one of those positive creative rhythms where you just cannot help yourself. However, I remember those weeks being dull of projects that were dragging me down.

The whole getting the work done vs. inspiration is interesting because sometimes you start off with a great commercial project you are fired up about and it gets so overworked by the client it is a matter of just finishing it. That attitude never becomes my goal but the zest in the creative process becomes lost. When we are all of a sudden rushed and can hardly think straight. The projects that start and end the best for me are always the ones I do not look for. I sit and draw to design on the computer, take photos, and just play. The best art and design to me still feels like it has a bit of gesture drawing in it. It is a little rough but polished enough to get the full harmony and impact.

TDS: TDS interviewee Marc Bryd said, “I have yet to see something as beautiful as a tree.” What is the most spectacular thing you've seen? What made it so special?

HOGAN: Iceland is the most spectacular thing I have even seen. It is a landscape full of vast space and environmental awareness. The geothermal pools, waterfalls, volcanic rock, mountains, and water are pure truth in a landscape. They're left alone. The integrity of the land is at peace. It is sacred ground. The Icelandic people appreciate their natural habitat. They know it is greater than them and that is beautiful.

TDS: You say that you've been shaped by your early surroundings: weathered materials, the shore, animals, etc. If we are, as humans, shaped by our surroundings how important is it to be intentional about the kind of environments and cultures we create?

HOGAN: My guru Dharma Mittra says, “same attracts same”. If you want to be in a certain culture then hang around with like-minded people. If you want to create world peace spread it. Be peace. Be wisdom. If you are angry, violent, harming others including animals, then your environment may be the same. And, you may not see it because it may be in your mind and body.

TDS: As a trained Yogi, you understand and pursue meditation. Talk about the importance of reflection as it relates to your work and personal life? What have you learned from cultivating such a lifestyle?

HOGAN: Concentration comes before meditation in the yogic scriptures. You cannot fully be in meditation until the mind is fully concentrated. I have learned to concentrate and focus on my goals and ideas before I set them into motion. The stillness in meditation and yogic tapas (disciplines) create awareness of the true self. When you have this awareness and stillness you can be fully concentrated in your intentions whatever they may be. Otherwise, you may have a noisy mind and create noisy work and receive noisy response. When we weed out the static and cultivate silence in the mind we can truly see what it is we are going to do.

TDS: If there could only be one season of the year all the time, which would it be?

HOGAN: Well, trick question, a yogi is either hot or cold. But, if I had to pick I would say spring. It is a time for renewal and cleanse.

TDS: What is your vision for the future of INK+Wit? What do you see yourself doing in 10 years?

HOGAN: My vision for INK+WIT is for it to grow into a global online space for people to experience my work, read my writing, and connect to the knowledge that has been blessedly given to me in this lifetime regarding yoga, peace, and creativity. I do not want only a retail space where I house my work. I want to house an online space and maybe someday traveling giving lectures/workshops on the power of creation through stillness. Yogic creativity. Ten years comes quick and within range I see myself traveling quite frequently to do creative raw vegan food demonstrations and yoga workshops. A storefront is in place. But, again, not just a retail space, but a space based in the feeling of calm and intention of well being to enjoy life. That’s could morph into many thanks. But, one thing is clear, I am doing nothing. It is all happening on its own.

Hobo Clown

Wed, 30 Dec 2009 18:23:20 GMT

The paintings of Allison Schulnik are beautiful and odd and emotive. Thick layers of oil giving way to brilliant creatures—creatures like a familiar nother-person. Someone, or something, from a fantastical otherworld you once visited in your imagination. Allison is emerging and the art world is taking notice. Art Review named her one of the “Ones to Watch” and the LA Times listed her as one of the “45 Painters Under 45 You Should Know.”

And Allison’s reach continues to broaden. Her claymation film Forest was the backdrop for Grizzly Bear’s “Ready, Able” music video, which spread through music blogs and magazines. Allison’s odd beauty is stirring up the art culture and will, no doubt, stir you. The New York Post said it best, “somewhere on an iceberg, Bjork is jealous.”

TDS: Your work seems to portray certain types of people or characters. Why are you drawn to the downtrodden? The outcasts?

SCHULNIK: I’m not sure. I like all types of characters. But I guess there is something honest about the outsider. They just do what they do and be who they are and the world doesn’t like them for it, or rejects them. There’s integrity there.

Man with Cats 68" x 84" oil on linen, 2009

Possum, 24x24, oil on canvas, 2009

TDS: You once said, "I allow my imagination to revel in its own world—where thickly-sculpted oils, earthly fact and blatant fiction collide to form images of tragedy, farce and raw beauty." To you, what is raw beauty?

SCHULNIK: Everyone seems to have a different view of what beauty is. I think the natural world is raw beauty. The hand-made, the visible thumbprint, the messy, the humorous, the honest … those are beautiful things.

Allison in studio

Still from claymation, Forest

Still from claymation, Forest

Allison in studio

TDS: They say art imitates life. How is that true for you, or is it?

SCHULNIK: Well, portraits can often be a reflection of the artist making them, but they can also be a reflection of people close to you. Or, people you don’t even know but what you imagine their life to be. That’s art imitating life.

White Uakari, 48" x 72", oil on canvas 2008

TDS: What have you learned about yourself through the process of painting?

SCHULNIK: I’ve learned that I don’t know too much about myself.

TDS: How does the solitude of painting/sculpting influence your work?

SCHULNIK: It’s the only way I can work. I tried to get out of the animation studios as soon as I got in them; I don’t like being told what to do. I really like working alone. I am stuck between being a loner and loving being a part of some kind of community.

That’s the quandary of being an artist who works alone. I often get my fix of people when the weekend comes. Being in a band helps satisfy that too. But all other times, when I work, I prefer to be alone. I think my paintings can be pretty lonely scenes. It’s just what I like to paint.

Black Monkey, 36" x 48", oil on linen, 2009
Black Monkey (detail)

TDS: How did your schooling (BFA) help your work? How did it hinder your work?

SCHULNIK: I was in an amazing film program at CalArts, called Experimental Animation. We learned all sorts of archaic, hand-made, traditional forms of animation. We learned on 16mm film. It was great! I loved it.

I had amazing teachers there, huge influences on my art-making: Jules Engel, E. Michael Mitchell, Corny Cole III, Mark Osborne. It was the best thing I ever did for myself, leaving San Diego and going into that program. (Although I did start in the Art program but switched over pretty quickly.)

I can’t say that it hindered me at all, because it was a very liberal, free-form kind of education. There was no pressure to do anything. Which is why it’s best for independent thinkers, and self-driven people. It also helped me by giving me confidence, and exposed me to the types of things other people were doing.

Sunflowers #7, 24x30, oil on canvas, 2009

TDS: You have said that being an artist shouldn't be a career. Can you explain?

SCHULNIK: If someone wants a career then they should go to dental school. Art making is a life-style or life mission, it’s not a career. You live it, breathe it. For myself, I worked and struggled in animation studios for 6-7 years, which really helped me once again realize my absolute need to make my own work. If shit hits the fan, I’ll be okay with that. I just need to make the work I make, and I don’t believe in compromise. I want a perfect world where artists don’t compromise.

Klaus #2, oil on linen, 60" x 72", 2009

Jimmy, 16x26, oil on linen, 2009

Home For Hobo, 84" x 136", oil on linen, 2009

TDS: You did a music video for Grizzly Bear. Why was their music a good fit for your work? What other bands do you think would complement your work (or their work complement yours)?

SCHULNIK: There music is so cinematic, so spacious and all encompassing. It seems to fill a room with sounds. I like that. It just fit. There are tons of bands I’d love to work with. I’d actually like to have music composed for my next film. I’d also like to work more with sound. I often perform entire films in my head to songs from Upsilon Acrux, Big Business, Ahab—they would be amazing accompaniments to moving clay.

TDS: What's next for you?

SCHULNIK: I have an exhibition of my paintings, drawings, sculptures and animation opening Jan. 9, 2010 at Mark Moore Gallery, Santa Monica, CA.

Switchfoot

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 08:19:09 GMT

When we hear music we are hearing the culmination of a process. Sometimes that process is fraught with pain or pleasure or both ... all at once. So we get to enjoy songs that represent years of experiences and life-shaping. Jon Foreman has a thing or two to say about this songwriting process. The Switchfoot frontman has spent the last 13 years on a journey he documents through music. Whether it's the surf-tinged sounds of his band or his introspective "seasons" EPs Jon's journey brims through the music, giving it an hopeful honesty.

With the release of Hello Hurricane, Jon and the foot are slammed with tour dates and appearances. So we were happy to catch up with him and ask a few questions before the rigors of rock-n-roll took over.

If you keep your ear to the ground you'll notice "The Sound" on the Verizon Wireless commercial for the new Blackberry. Or maybe you heard "Mess of Me" used during the doubleheader NFL Kickoff this past September. All the commercial extras are par for the course for Jon and Switchfoot. But at the end of the day, give Jon and his band-mates a small stage and an intimate crowd and you'll see where their passion lies.

TDS: As a songwriter, what emotions do you tap when writing? Do you tend to linger with certain emotions over others?

FOREMAN: There is a deeper portion of our being that we rarely allow others to see. Call it a soul maybe, this is the place that holds the most value. All else can drift but this. When this dies our body has no meaning. We handle this portion of our being with extreme care. Life tears at us and scars us as children so we adopt facades and masks to hide this part of us, to keep this sacred part of ourselves from the pain. And yet, we long to communicate this deeper place ... to connect with each other on this spiritual level, for we know that this is the only part of us that will last.

These spiritual transactions remind us of the true meaning and yearning that cannot be found on the surface. Many times songs allow us to communicate these deeper places. Music is admitted under the skin without permission. Pain is a common emotion in many of my songs mainly because I often don't know other ways to express it adequately. In my songs I wrestle with the things that I don't understand.

I often use music as a handle for very emotionally explosive substances: love, sex, God, fear, doubt, politics, the economics of the soul—these are daunting thoughts in the back of my mind that I rarely visit without the safety gloves of song.

TDS: Describe your writing process? (Is it spontaneous? Does it take discipline or is it something that just comes naturally for you?)

FOREMAN: There's a book called The War of Art that tells us, "The muse honors the working stiff." It's like Paul [the Apostle or Saint Paul] working out his salvation with fear and trembling because it's his God who works predestination or free will, sunshine and rain. They're both very needed. It's both/and. Some songs come to me and other ones, I chase them down. Most of the time a spark of beauty or truth will start a fire of a song but fires rarely produce goodness on their own ... you need to control them and put them to work.

TDS: How much does experience play into your songwriting?

FOREMAN: Experience is all I have. I equate song-writing with archeology. Every day you dig. You dig into different places within yourself—even finding places that you've rarely been. And buried within the soil is song. Sometimes the song is average, or derivative, or something you're not proud of. And other times you discover a lost city, something that has always been there. You don't feel as though you wrote it but rather as though you found it.

TDS: Recently Switchfoot left its label and decided to produce their own music. How has this shaped your music?

FOREMAN: We've always been very "hands on" with our music. This is a project where we allowed ourselves to take more risks than ever.

TDS: How do you measure success as an artist?

FOREMAN: I am often tempted to think of success in terms that are defined by others: records sold, popularity gained, album reviews, etc. These are impossible demands, however, and they can never be satisfied. Letting finite others define our worth is a horrible way to live. Only the Infinite Other [God] has the authority to do this. And yet I and the rest of the world fall prey to these other forms of immediate worth. This is the human race that can't be won. I even wrote a song about it:

Push (the human race)

to be honest
i've never been honest
and even now
the truth comes out in stutters and fits
every word that's born is self-conscious
the critic weighs
not truth or fact or fiction but wit

and I know
I'm not that funny
so stop laughing,
laughing

is our human race the collection of
our collective longings to be loved
acted out in fear and pain and push and shove?
push and shove?

so our worth gets wrapped up in opinion
that fickle friend
whose loyalty is subject to change
Is acceptance the target destination?
A broken heart
will follow me as sure as the grave

cause I know
I'm not that funny
so stop laughing
laughing

is our human race the collection of
our collective longings to be loved
acted out in fear and pain and push and shove?
push and shove?

And I began to grin
when my final song was sung
Cause the human race is a race that
can't
be
won

TDS: Do you feel obligated to leverage your celebrity to "do good" within the greater culture? Should celebrities be held to a higher standard?

FOREMAN: Celebrity is a currency with an exchange rate almost as strong as anonymity. All are called to goodness; much is required of all of us. Every day you're alive you change the world. Our culture is disproportionally drawn to the stage and screen like a moth to the flame. We see the flicker of the spotlight and assume that worth and value are held within it's glow. The truth is what happens behind closed doors when no one's watching. Who are you when the lights are out? This is your legacy. The things that are done in secret, whispered in dark alleys—shout em from the rooftops.

TDS: As a musician, what do you want your legacy to be? As a human, what do you want your legacy to be?

FOREMAN: I want to be a compassionate soul, finding worth and beauty in the worlds around me and within me, attempting to sing a transcendent tune with my temporal position in this life.

TDS: If you were stranded on a desert island with no hope of rescue would you rather have a guitar or a surfboard? (neither could be used to get off the island)

FOREMAN: Ha! Are we presupposing that the island has waves?! If there's a steady food source and a couple friends I would rather have boards. If I'm by myself waiting for death I think I'd rather have a guitar.

TDS: What can we expect from you and/or your band in the coming months?

FOREMAN: A new record from "the foot" just released called Hello Hurricane . And a lot of tours to support it. Maybe a new Fiction Family record next year... we'll see.

*A TDS "Special Thanks" to Invisible Ink for contributing to this interview

Goat Yelling Like A Man

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 13:38:36 GMT

At 21 he was nominated for the Short Film Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival for Billy’s Balloon. At 23 his short film, Rejected, was nominated for an Academy Award. At 24 Filmmaker Magazine named him one of the “Top 25 Filmakers to Watch.” At 26, along with Beavis and Butt-head creator Mike Judge, he created the Animation Show, a touring animated short film festival. The Sundance Film Festival once noted that, "if cinephiles think shorts don't generate the same sort of hype and fanbase as feature films, they obviously haven't heard of Don Hertzfeldt."

By all accounts Hertzfeldt is a genius. His latest film, I am so Proud of You, is now on DVD and will do nothing but cause more accolades. At 22 minutes in length the film took just under two years to complete and continues Don’s proclivity for creating his animations without digital effects. I am so Proud of You was created using a sixty-year-old 35mm animation stand, one of the last remaining cameras of it’s kind in America. Using this camera allowed for composing images that would have been otherwise impossible. The rest of the film’s special effects were also created directly on film using traditional double exposures, in-camera mattes, and new experimental techniques.

As Chapter 2 in a planned three-chapter series, Proud continues to chronicle the life of protagonist Bill. Using the same narration style as Everything Will Be Okay (Chapter 1) the story progresses as we see Bill trying to recover from his mental disorder. The story of his recovery is intertwined with stories of Bill’s childhood and family heritage, including a great-grandpa who “once strangled a rock in a fit of religious excitement.”

The film is equal parts funny, sad, bizarre, and relatable. It is another work of pain-staking perfection by Hertzfeldt. Check out some of Don’s work that can be found online, grab the DVD of I Am so Proud of You, then check out our interview with him to get a tiny glimpse inside the head of Don Hertzfeldt.

TDS: You do the bulk of your work sans the computer. How do you think your creative process differs from someone who relies primarily on the computer?

HERTZFELDT: I like having complete control over editing and sound—we’re all digital there—but with picture I want to leave the door open a little. It is just a different way of getting something to the screen. A movie like I am so Proud of You has its roots in experimental film: multiple exposures, compositing within the camera, paint on film. Stan Brakhage type stuff. Happy accidents.

My camera lets me conjure things up as I go along, build things with my hands, throw together images in ways I wouldn't have otherwise thought of. Even if it's just a really pretty light leak I happen to spot. I like to be surprised when the film comes back. You can't really capture these things in a computer, there's rarely that element of surprise or improvisation. And it's just more fun to work this way.

TDS: How does patience play into your work?

HERTZFELDT: With tricky scenes I’ve had to spend a couple months on getting just a few seconds of finished movie. But, on average, a short will take me around a year and half to two years to finish.

Sometimes the most satisfying thing is coming up with the most minor of rewrites --something that both improves the story and saves you from maybe having to animate a few connecting scenes-and you sort of sit there and realize you just saved yourself a solid month at the art desk.

TDS: What has been the greatest sacrifice you have made in order to pursue your work?

HERTZFELDT: Sometimes I’m not sure where most of my 20's went. I’m 33 now and I’m sure one day I’ll wonder where most of my 30's went but, that's probably not a very unique thought.

Time moves pretty fast, you put your head down and get to work on a piece and when you look up again you realize it's two years later. I think I’m doing some of my strongest work right now and I still get really excited for each new project. But it still can get very dull and very lonely because of the nature of the work and it's hard to remember to have a life in the meantime.

I’ve been in non-stop production on something since I was 18. I’ve never had a job doing anything else. But honestly, I’m not sure how much you can chalk that all up as "sacrifice." I’m ridiculously lucky to be able to still do this for a living. I’m not going to be the idiot who complains about doing what he wants.

TDS: As you continue to mature, how do you see your work changing, progressing?

HERTZFELDT: I think I would be terrified to actually know that. I haven't got a clue. I don't often make the same sort of movie twice in a row. It’s always been whatever is next in my head. From a commercial standpoint I guess I’ve made some pretty inscrutable decisions, like following up Rejected with a sprawling abstract film about human evolution, but it's really just been whichever ideas won't go away at the time. There always a lot of new things I’d like to try and I’m happy to still feel like I’m learning a lot.

TDS: Why the stance not to use your work for advertising or other commercial means?

HERTZFELDT: It just has nothing to do with it. It would be like taking time off from the films to drive a cab or paint houses. I’m not rich but I don't need to take on random jobs that mean nothing to me. The goal isn’t to try and make as much money as I possibly can, the goal is to try and make good movies.

TDS: They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. If that is the case, people seem to pay you a lot of compliments. Do you see it that way?

HERTZFELDT: I guess, maybe. Though I think I’d prefer to be complimented with a nice gift basket and a bottle of wine.

TDS: Just for fun … if you could form a death-metal band what would it be named and what would your first number one hit single be titled?

HERTZFELDT: Wow, you're really in luck. I actually keep a long list of album titles for all of my imaginary bands. I’m pretty excellent with album titles. I used to be pretty good at band names but for some reason lately it's all been about album titles.
If it were a death-metal band I think our number one single would be Bitches Asking for Ham Sandwiches, sort of a rap-death-metal genre blending thing there, off the best selling album Goat Yelling Like a Man.

TDS: Because of the artistic nature of your work, different people interpret your films in different ways. With this latest film series—Everything Will Be Ok, I Am So Proud of You —do you intend your audience to understand a specific message?

HERTZFELDT: No, god I hope not. Messages are dangerous territory. I think those films are more like sharing a specific feeling or a specific moment with people than plainly delivering sentences. They seem more like songs than essays. I think there's more content in a song.

Some of my favorite songs, I’ve listened to them maybe a thousand times and I still might not know what all the lyrics mean and maybe I’ve even misheard some of them, but I still get exactly what that artist was thinking and feeling in that moment in time and for a little while you're sharing that space—it's like a mood you can't really put into words.

I think whatever was being expressed with I am so Proud of You is in there and whatever you find or don't find is totally valid. As the writer you have to let it go. It’s sort of like giving somebody a nice gift. You sew them a nice coat and you enjoy watching them opening it and making them happy. But then you need to get the f**k out of there. It’s theirs now, let them try it on and walk around and live in it. Don’t keep coming over and saying, "how's it fit? Did you notice I put pockets on the inside? Those stitches were imported ... "

TDS: Your films are intricate and full of thought. Is the execution always as you plan or do things change during the process?

HERTZFELDT: I usually change things the whole way through. I’m probably more of a rewriter than a writer. It’s something that would be impossible to do if I were working with a big crew. It would drive everyone mad. But, working basically alone, I’m able to shape and change and improve things as I go very fluidly. I’ve got about 3/4 of Chapter 3 written now but I’m sure it will change quite a bit by the time I’m done. I’m ready to begin animating the first few scenes and the time I’ve gotten through them I’ll have had new ideas that will shape the next ones.

TDS: Are there any upcoming projects we should be looking out for?

HERTZFELDT: I’ve just finished a very silly five minute cartoon for something that I can't really talk about yet, but I may spring it on an unsuspecting audience or two just to test it out (Editor’s Note: This was shown in October 2009 at the Ottawa Animation Festival). It will be fun to see people driven from the theater. I needed do so something goofy between Proud and Chapter 3. I don't think I could have made three long Bill films in a row.

I’ve also been working on a graphic novel for the first time, which has been developing into something quite good. I keep changing it around and improving it and the only downside is every time I elevate one section, I have to go back and make everything else that much better. But the big albatross, Chapter 3, will be next; I’ll be animating it before the end of the year. I think 1 and 2 are some of the best things I’ve done and now I’ll be doing my very best not to screw this whole thing up.

charity: water

Tue, 01 Sep 2009 18:06:31 GMT

Some people have had enough. Enough self-aggrandizement, enough waste. Instead of defining their lives by how much cash they can blow in a weekend living large, people are beginning to find that true self worth comes from giving ... not taking. Scott Harrison is one of those people. His picture perfect New York life left him wanting, yearning for something more. Scott found that "something" in water. One billion people on the planet don’t have access to clean drinking water. That’s one in six of us. So Scott decided to do something about it: charity: water.

Like all good Trap Door Sun interviews Scott's requires something from you. Get involved. Go to their site and find out how you can join Scott's team in bring clean drinking water to the world.

www.charitywater.org/

TDS:Tell us a little bit about the inception of charity: water.

HARRISON: charity: water started in a Soho apartment as a crazy dream. I’d written words about poverty all over the walls. I was 30 years old, and was on a journey back to faith embracing a new love for the poor after 10 years of decadent living in New York City nightlife. Two years earlier, I had ditched my New York life of $16 cocktails and $350 bottles of Grey Goose for the shores of Liberia West Africa. My life transformed while serving surgeons on this amazing hospital ship, the Mercy Ship Anastasis, and upon arrival back in New York, wanted to throw the rest of my life in the lap of God and the poor.

Most of my friends were disenchanted with charity and giving, and cited bloated organizations with a complete lack of transparency. In short, they didn’t know how much of their money went to help the poor, and what impact it actually had. So I wanted the charity I started to bring people back to the table. In faith, we stepped out with a new 100% model (We have separate donors funding operations and staff) and a promise to prove the work we did.

Then I needed an issue to launch, and water just screamed at me. There are a billion people without it on the planet. Eighty percent of all disease is related to the lack of it and basic sanitation. Water touches everything, changes everything. I put them together and got charity: water, and started running.

TDS: How has your experience as an event planner helped in this endeavor?

HARRISON: When I headed out to Africa after 10 years of selfish living,I had collected about 15,000 email addresses over the years. It was an audience of people who could make things happen. When I came back and started charity: water people used to laugh at me because I brought my laptop everywhere. I’d accost some of our former doormen at the doors of their clubs, and DJs in their booths at 2 a.m. Everyone had to look at the pictures, and I wanted them to promise to help me do something about it. Most did.

TDS: Why water?

HARRISON: I immediately hear the chanting of my friends in Ethiopia. “Without water, there is no life. Without water, there is no life.” It’s true. You can survive ages without food, but not long without water. And it’s just shocking that in the twenty-first century, there are a billion people without it on the planet. One in six. And it kills. Kids die of diarrhea and other waterborne diseases. People go blind with trachoma and right now, worms are crawling through the bodies of 200 million people. Water starts things. It changes everything.

TDS: What have you been able to accomplish, with regard to clean water, since starting charity: water?

HARRISON: charity: water has been blessed. Wildly blessed. We’ve been on the receiving end of more favor and generosity than I’ve ever thought possible. We’ve raised more than $10 million in under 3 years from the gifts of 60,000 people around the world. And by October, we will have been able to help our first million people get access to clean water. Stadiums full of people, a big impact for sure.

Now, take a deep breath. We’ve just solved one tenth of a percent of the problem. That’s actually so discouraging it’s been encouraging to our team because we believe epic scale is needed. We’re now focused on serving 10 million people in the next 5 years and need about $200 million to do it. And then we’ll set our sights on serving 100 million, and so on.

TDS: How does American excess compare to the areas you visit? How can we better steward our excess?

HARRISON: Because of my past, I’ve had a unique opportunity to walk between these two crazy worlds. I’ll be at dinners with donors and friends who have no problem spending $500 on a bottle of wine, or $5,000 on a hand of blackjack. But my approach hasn’t been to make them feel guilty. I look at all this excess as opportunity.

You see, the money is there for the taking. It’s our job to inspire people with vision. I mean what if you didn’t play that hand, and a village in Tanzania with 250 people was able to get clean water? What if that $500 could help 25 people in India stay healthy and be able to wash more than twice a month? I heard recently that $450 billion was spent on activities surrounding Christmas last year. More than double than the highest number I’ve heard to solve the entire water problem.

On the other end of that spectrum, Shane Claiborne recently said that generosity is not measured by how much you give, but how much you have left. A powerful concept that really resonates with me, but so many people aren’t even giving. We want to infect them with the joy that it brings – it makes "the taking" pale in comparison.

TDS: How has starting charity: water changed you as a person?

HARRISON: My faith has definitely gotten bigger. I believe I serve a big God who has all the money in the world. Compared to Him, I’m often ashamed of my small-mindedness and practical lack of vision. God doesn’t want anybody to be thirsty. I believe He’s looking for people to partner with him in redeeming this broken world. It’s the most incredible work to be a part of. The most incredible thing to do each day. And as the organization explodes, it’s incredibly tiring and stressful at the same time.

TDS: What has surprised you the most since you started charity: water?

HARRISON: That such a small team of people without extensive experience in International Development, Charitable Fundraising, Design and Branding etc. was able to do so much in such a short time. And I think perhaps that’s the point. We used our inexperience to attack some traditional problems with a non-traditional approach. And we’ve become really good at both what we do in the field and what we do here to raise awareness and money. I can’t tell you how many larger and more established organizations have come to us for advice with regards to both. That still surprises me.

TDS: How has social networking, the media, and celebrity helped your cause?

HARRISON: Facebook, Causes, SocialVibe, Myspace, YouTube and Twitter among others have all been used to raise about $500,000 for the cause. A good example of that is the Twestival, where 202 cities came together in February to host a one-night fundraising event for charity: water. We then flew to Africa and broadcast the drilling of the first well so the 10,000+ supporters could see what their money was doing.

The media at large has been extremely generous to the issue and us. We’ve had more than 400+ items including pieces on CNN, ABC, Good Morning America Now, FOX News etc. We’ve got a great pro-bono team helping us with this, but believe that if you do good work and are passionate about it, people will help you tell your story.

We’ve never looked for a celebrity “spokesperson” but also haven’t been afraid to engage celebrities in our mission. We’ve had amazing performers like Chaka Khan and Cat Power give of their time, talent, and money. Adrian Grenier from Entourage has now hosted all 3 gala events and has personally funded several wells around the world. Terry George who directed Hotel Rwanda has helped us out and become a friend. But the issue is really the star. The people giving of themselves to solve the problem are the stars. We want to keep it that way.

TDS: You've gotten a lot of celebrities involved in charity: water exhibits—how? And is that Jennifer Connelly in the PSA on your website?

HARRISON: With the exception of hosts for events, we’ve just simply invited interested celebrities to learn more about the cause and engage. For some, that meant giving up their birthdays as part of the borninseptember.org campaign and asking for their age in dollars. For others like Jennifer Connelly, it meant giving up an entire day to make a PSA we think came out great.

TDS: Do you see a day when the whole world has access to clean drinking water? When?

HARRISON: Gosh, I hope so. I think you have to think that big, you have to believe that big. If God continues to give me health and strength, I’ve got a good 45 years left in me to fight, and I’m the second oldest on our team. They’ll outlast and outrun me, I think. We have the resources and money to fight the problem, but there are still many missing pieces. The "when" part of the question is harder.

TDS: You have stated before that you were a selfish person before starting charity: water. You now ask people to forfeit birthday, wedding, engagement, and baby presents in exchange for donations to charity: water. How have you seen people get over this hurdle of conventional gift giving? How is charity: water causing people to examine their own selfishness, as well as the pride that comes with giving an expensive traditional gift?

HARRISON: I’m most excited about the birthday campaigns we’ve run. Their success moved us to build a new website (mycharitywater) that will launch this September. Like many things, we sort of walked into something that just worked. We launched charity: water in a nightclub on my 31st birthday in September 2006. 700 people came, gave $20 or more at the door for a little over $15k and helped us build our first few wells in Uganda.

A year later, we got the idea to “give up” our birthdays, and invite everyone not to attend the birthday/ anniversary party. We found a hospital in Kenya with dirty water coming from its taps, and I asked everyone for $32 donations. We raised $59k, and then asked other people to give up their September birthdays.

The concept had some stickiness to it. You see, we all normally get stuff we don’t want or need for our birthdays. And there are a billion people living without the most basic thing – clean water. So, we gave up our birthdays so that they can have birthdays … 92 people signed up in 2007, and we raised $159,000 – 10 times Day 1 of charity: water.

Then last year, we tried to 10x again by getting more September birthdays with a goal of $1.5 million to serve 75,000+ people in Ethiopia with clean water. We didn’t quite get there, but we did mobilize 750 people, and raise a not too shabby $965,000 through the campaign. The mission statements some of those 750 people wrote really moved us.

I think my favorite was: “This year I’m turning 89. I’d like to make that possible for more people in Africa.”

The Endless Sky

Fri, 24 Jul 2009 17:49:52 GMT

Well, it’s been a year since Trap Door Sun took flight. Over the past year we’ve had the pleasure of interviewing some unique people from all walks of life. So we’d like to offer up a tasty interview to salute our first year in existence.

To mark this milestone we offer you a glimpse into the band Hammock. We first heard of Hammock through a stray magazine review on their newest record Maybe They Will Sing For Us Tomorrow. We, subsequently, purchased one of their first EPs (Stranded Under Endless Sky) and instantly fell in love with their sound.

Perhaps some of you have heard them—if so, excellent! But for those of you who have not had the opportunity to become immersed in their soundscapes and epic compositions you need to do a few things before reading the interview. Click over to your favorite online music site and download Maybe They Will Sing For Us Tomorrow. Next, take your listening device out to the front driveway or back deck—preferably after sunset. Scrounge up the evening beverage of your choice, start a campfire and let the ethereal beauty of Hammock surround you.

You are now ready to read the interview. Here’s to another year of goodness!

TDS: Give us a little bit of the back-story of Hammock. Who are you guys and how did you form your little collective?

Hammock: Sure. Well, we just started getting together—Andrew and I knew each other—I’m a writer and have to produce a certain amount of songs for a company called EMI and I was just kind of getting burned out on that and started going over to Andrew’s place; started messing around with this ambient thing that we wanted to do. We didn’t really see it turning into anything other than just good musical therapy. Before we knew it we had something like 19 pieces. And we said to ourselves, “Why don’t we try to self-release it?”

Since then, it’s turned into a cool thing and creatively fulfilling.

TDS: Do you guys find yourself falling into a genre similar to Sigur Rós? Is that a fair assessment?

Hammock: Yea, I (Marc) think that’s a fair assessment especially with the last record—it has a strictly ambient quality. I guess some people consider them [Sigur Rós] post-rock and some people consider us post-rock. I don’t know what we are really. We’re kind of a mixture of ambient and the post-rock “thing” although we don’t really hold to the formula of “soft, loud, soft, loud,” that is indicative of most post-rock stuff.

Our new record (the one we are currently working on) is going to be a bit more organic and will probably appeal more to the post-rock audience. Whereas our last record (Maybe They Will Sing For Us Tomorrow) appealed to the ambient/home-listening-classical-style people. For this new one we are kind of piling it on, if you know what I mean. It’s just the mood that we’re in. We want to go in a different direction—keep things interesting.

TDS: Maybe They Will Sing For Us Tomorrow stemmed from a live show where you had certain limitations with regard to room size and gear.

Hammock: Yea, it [the room] had limitations for sure. The limitations were that we wanted to perform it live with just the two of us. To begin with we thought we’d just write some long-form pieces and they’d work for what the venue would allow with regard to space and such. And then we ended up writing an entire record worth—even more—of songs.

We think a band can really excel when they place certain limitations of themselves. The limitations challenge them to have to figure out a creative way of doing things. So for us, we wrote the songs that ended up being this record for the live event and then when we came back and listened to the recording we said to ourselves, “Well, this is a record.” We thought we were only going to use two or three pieces for the record but we ended up using most of it.

What’s been great is the broad appeal of the record. We’ve been able to open up for a band called Stars Of The Lid (one of our favorites) and it really fits nicely with their sound—more ambient. But then we also get people from the post-rock crowd as well.

TDS: How does patience factor into crafting your music?

Hammock: It really does require a lot of patience. We have close to 50 songs in the “out pile” now and we still have 25 in the “in pile” and not all of those are going to make it obviously. When we start writing we get a certain batch of songs and start developing them. Time is really important for our process because we like to see what pieces continue to hit us in a creative way and push our artistic buttons.

But if things start to fall out of favor we will sadly put it in the out pile. Plus we are all about sound, since it’s instrumental and we’re all about creating soundscapes; so it always takes time to find the right effects and each part needs to be in the right place and have the right tone. So each song takes quite a bit of patience.

TDS: Explain the draw to this genre of music, for you and others (listeners).

Hammock: I’m not sure … I do know, based on listener feedback that it “enhances.” For example, my wife makes the same drive to work every day. But when she puts on our record during the drive she, somehow, notices things around her in the outside world that maybe she didn’t before. It creates this space of slowing down and it almost enhances your attention.

Our music, based on the mail we get from people, helps people become more aware of their emotions or the impermanence of life; other people become aware of their outward surroundings and grow to appreciate their environment more. We find that aspect of our music to be appealing. So, maybe you’ve seen something a million times but the music helps to put you in a mindset to notice things you never noticed before.

Maybe in this culture, slowing down is appealing for people. Silence is hard for us to live in. I (Marc) often go up to a cabin for a four-day period—no music no nothing. The first day is always so difficult because my brain is going 90 miles an hour. But I find that by the end of the four days I am always so much more centered. And I hope that our music creates that kind of space for people.

Another thing we are finding is that people like our music for … (laughter) for love (more laughter). Lots of people like our music when they’re engaging in love. So that’s pretty nice too. So I guess you could say that we are the Barry White of ambient music (even more laughter).

TDS: There is an "otherworldly" sense when listening to your music.

Hammock: It’s weird … when I (Marc) was growing up I was enamored with stars and space and vastness and how big things are. I’ve always been into different kinds of “verb” (reverb) and delays, so I was always drawn to music that gave me a sense of space. If that comes through in our music I would say it's because its so engrained in both of us.

We both grew up in the south, we both grew up in wide open spaces; it wasn’t a busy city life so there was a lot time to sit and ponder or daydream; so I would say that is part of it. What do you think Andrew?

I (Andrew) would say that coming from those rural environments there was time to be present, without the rush.

TDS: Your music has a beautiful texture to it. Can you define beauty? Is it something that you aspire to or does it spring from somewhere else?

Hammock: It’s hard because some people can look at a Francis Bacon painting and say it’s grotesque and ugly. But it has a redemptive quality in the sense that this guy had so much pain in his life and he was able to get it out and paint it and put it on the canvass. And I (Marc) happen to like Francis Bacon and see beauty in his work. I don’t aspire to a superficial idea of what beauty is, that is to say an idea that it’s all sweetness and light.

I like the Zen aesthetic of seeing beauty in certain imperfections. I have yet to see anything as beautiful as a tree. I am still fascinated with how lovely mountains and trees can be. I mean … man did not have anything to do with that.

For me (Marc) I think we try to create beautiful music. I remember on our last record I was talking to our manager after feeling some discouragement and I said, “All I want to do is make a beautiful record.” I think that’s what it comes down to. And when I talked to Andrew, he totally agreed and we decided that we were going to make a beautiful record. To us what we did was beautiful even if there was a certain amount of sadness.

There’s beauty that comes out of sadness, there’s beauty that comes out of pain. There’s beautiful poetry that comes out of the holocaust. Where that comes from … I don’t want to go too deep into that. For me personally, I have a transcendent idea of what beauty is.

(Andrew) I think that sums it up in a lot of ways. The beauty and the darkness … you really have to be open to it and when it starts to flow you go with it. We do find that some of the most beautiful moments come from grief or pain or inner struggle. Even in the Christian symbol of the crucifixion, Christians find that to be both beautiful and horrific and maybe for some people who aren’t Christians they only see the horrific side of that.

So it’s hard to say objectively what is the final definition of beauty but I don’t think you can just go out into a field and make some ugly piece or thing and say it’s beautiful just because you have your own idea of what beauty is. I do think there is something solid to what that is but now we’re getting into difficult definitions and nuance.

TDS: What does your style of music offer in such a fast paced culture? Are you the antithesis to culture?

Hammock: (Laughs) Yea, we are. We try not to be in a hurry to get where we are going with the music. Things are so immediate, so fast; the gratification is there immediately in our culture. We feel there is an art to listening to music. A lot of us don’t do that anymore; we don’t take time to listen. We don’t buy whole albums; we buy one song at a time. So yea, in that sense we are completely the antithesis, we are completely countercultural in the sense that we are still trying to make records and still trying to make a whole body of work that requires you to sit down, shut up and listen.

For those music-heads that take the time to do that, it’s rewarding. And for others who can’t get into that mindset … they really don’t get it. Some people say, “I don’t get it, it moves too slow.” And that’s fine with us—that just means they’re not meant to be our audience.

TDS: Some people regard your music as breaking away from structure and rules. Is this a fair assessment?

Hammock: Well, we are not Frank Zappa and we are not Jon Cage. We are not that outside the box. However, it is outside the box in the sense that maybe it doesn't have a verse chorus verse chorus bridge chorus structure to it. And actually some of the songs do have that form to it because we do have a pop aesthetic but we don’t feel like we are too far left of center and pushing certain parameters and boundaries.

I do feel like when some people think that we are stepping outside the norm, then that’s what it comes down to—what’s normal right now. So our stuff might be outside the parameters of what’s in pop culture but it’s not, necessarily, what’s outside the history of music.

TDS: What [bands, artists, writers] influence your work?

Hammock: For writers I (Marc) love Hermann Hesse and the poet Rainer Maria Rilke. I think he is probably my favorite poet. Paul Celan … he was a very trouble poet—love his stuff. Actually there’s a title from “Losing You To You” from our Raising Your Voice record that I kind of took from one of his poems.

As far as music goes we’ve been influenced by Max Richter, Brian Eno, Arvo Pärt, Stars Of the Lid . As far as guitar players you’d have to say: Robert Smith (The Cure), Marty Wilson Piper and Peter Koppes from The Church, Johnny Marr from the Smiths, Robin Guthrie from Cocteau Twins, Lindsey Buckingham as far as the way he layers things and his production, and David Gilmore. We are definitely influenced by others; we’re not trying to reinvent the wheel we’re just trying to make music that we really like. We are basically influenced by the music that we grew up listening to.

TDS: Which one of your songs encapsulates the true essence of Hammock.

Hammock: Now, there are two aspects to Hammock: one that has the drums base and guitars and the other that has a completely beatless, soundscaping element to it. So, we would have to sum it up with two songs. “Blankets of Night” would be the one that has bass, drums and more traditionally pop instrumentation. It’s eight minutes long, it’s epic, it’s powerful, it’s moving and it’s emotional.

And then for the soundscape aspect we would say “Mono No Aware”, the one we just did the new video to. It’s very defining of us: you have the loop—the constant non-changing thing—we’re able to create dynamic just by doing certain layers with just our guitars, and layers with strings.

Mono No Aware from David Altobelli on Vimeo.

TDS: Can you explain the title “Mono No Aware”?

Hammock: I think “mono no aware” is Japanese for “the sadness of things”. So when we played Brooklyn, after the show David Altobelli approached us and insisted that he make a video for us. We tend to get this sort of thing a lot. Different film students approach us about using our music in a lot of their films and that’s cool.

So with David, we looked at his reel and it was really good. And then he started talking to us about the treatment of it. He started using phrases like “the impermanence of things” and “the fleeting nature of life” and immediately we thought, “Ok, this guy gets it. He understands what we’re talking about.”

The whole idea of the girl touching her hand on the glass, leaving her print and then it disappearing is, to us, the symbol of what the song title means—which is the fleeting nature of life and the sadness of things. That’s what we get from it. We don’t want to go much deeper than that because honestly we just love looking at the video and enjoying the imagery. You know?

TDS: What can people expect from you guys at a live show?

Hammock: (Andrew) What we’ve done up to this point with things has been very similar to what got us playing the live show and releasing the last record. It’s been purely ambient; it’s been Marc and I and Matt Slocum playing cello—a kind of small ensemble that we use to create the big guitar tones and the cool looping that Matt does with his string parts. I think we’ll continue to do that with this next record even though it will be a little more (I hate to use this word) “bombastic”; it will be a much more full-scale approach.

I think we’ll probably end up doing both approaches on tour. In certain venues we’ll go completely ambient and in other venues we’ll do the whole nine yards.

We have a gig coming up in October where we’re doing The Gatherings in Philadelphia—it’s a cool thing. It’s in an old church, Stars of the Lid have done it, and they want the ambient aspect of Hammock. So, in short, we can offer whatever aspect is appropriate for the venue.

As far as Matt Slocum goes, he’s practically the third member of Hammock. He’s been on every record and played every show except for one.

TDS: So when is that next record expected to be released?

Hammock: (Laughter) We don’t know. We’re still giving birth to it. The labor pains are intense on this one.

TDS: Is there anything else from Hammock that you would like us to share?

Hammock: Probably doing a record with Taylor Deupree. Taylor Deupree is an artist that we played with in Brooklyn. He owns 12K Records and he is also a sound sculpture guy. We’ll be collaborating with him.

We’ll be hopefully releasing a new album this year—we’ll see. And we have that October gig in Philadelphia we just mentioned—The Gatherings. We’re real excited about that. So if you’re in the area we’d love to see you out. We’ll be playing with Mico Nonet—they’re a really cool classical type group that will be opening for us.

Joyously Uncool

Thu, 18 Jun 2009 12:20:55 GMT

Doing what you love for a living is difficult enough. Doing what you love and being good at it is another thing altogether. For Mo Willems, he has both down. Pat. As a kid Mo looked at the Sunday cartoons of Charles Schulz and thought, “I want to do that.” And so he did.

The New York Times called him “the biggest talent to emerge in children's books in the '00s." And it is easy to see why. His simple illustrations, witty prose, and uncanny ability to bring you, the reader, into the story all make for a fantastic read. Do yourself a favor. After reading this interview pick up a copy of one of Mo’s books (any one will do) and read it to a kid. You won’t regret it and you’ll probably read it again … to yourself.

TDS: Comedian Mitch Hedberg joked that any book is a children's book if the kid can read. Your books work that way to a degree as they are hits with anyone, regardless of age. How do you manage to make something fun for all ages of readers?

WILLEMS: My books are made for un-cool people; that is to say they’re for folks who are willing to be silly, absurd, or just plain weird. Turns out that most kids are joyously un-cool while many adults fear un-coolness. So, my books are put on the kid’s shelves where they can be enjoyed un-self-consciously by children, the occasional goofy grown-up, and their ilk. Especially their ilk.

TDS: You have written stories for television and books. How is the storytelling process the same? How is it different?

WILLEMS: TV is expensive, collaborative, and anonymous; it’s a great place to develop your writing muscles and learn with colleagues without anyone noticing. However, the industry is top-heavy with number crunchers and personnel, non-focus-grouped expression is frowned upon. Books are cheap to make, so you can get away with being completely, absurdly individual. But, you’re on your own and each mistake is noticeable. I’m as grateful to have started off in TV as I am overjoyed to be making books right now.

TDS: What is the key to a good story, regardless of the audience?

WILLEMS: If I knew what made a good story then creating new books wouldn’t be any fun. Each project I’ve ever undertaken has been a brand-new, misguided attempt to create a perfect story. Fortunately, I fail consistently; otherwise I’d be out of work.

TDS: Is there a central theme or idea that stretches throughout all your books that you hope kids learn from?

WILLEMS: Yikes. I studiously avoid teaching and shy away from other authors on a mission to ‘help’ children. Kids have it bad enough without our meddling (when’s the last time you had to ask permission to go to the bathroom?). Personally, I’m always eager to see how my audience reacts to my stories; it’s only then that I really have any sense of what they are ‘about’.

TDS: Is there something you really want to do (like the pigeon wanting to drive a bus) but have not been able to (yet)?

WILLEMS: I cannot fly or tickle people with my mind.

TDS: Is there a difference between creativity and imagination?

WILLEMS: Imagination is based on dreaming, creativity on doing. Give me creativity any day.

TDS: Do you have a particular creative process?

WILLEMS: I could tell you, but then I’d have to … well, not kill you, more like bore you to death… There simply is no getting around the hard work of molding a blob of ideas into a functioning story.

TDS: In an interview with the National Center for Children's Illustrated Literature you stated that "TV is essentially disposable, so people don’t take it seriously." Could you elaborate? How does the Internet (specifically, e-books) play into this idea?

WILLEMS: A book, being a physical object, engenders a certain respect that zipping electrons cannot. Because you cannot turn a book off, because you have to hold it in your hands, because a book sits there, waiting for you, whether you think you want it or not, because of all these things, a book is a friend. It’s not just the content, but the physical being of a book that is there for you always and unconditionally.

TDS: Do you have any advice for writers wanting to break into the children's book genre?

WILLEMS: Don’t. Unless you are compelled to beyond any reasonable measure. Then, make your story superlative. All the rest of the stuff (query letters, agents, deals) is irrelevant. Oh, and have fun, people notice that kind of stuff.

TDS: Do you have any upcoming projects you would like to tell us about?

WILLEMS: I’ve got a pretty full slate right now. In addition to continuing the Elephant and Piggie Easy Reader series, I have an upcoming pop-out book entitled Big Frog Can’t Fit In! and a new series of books for very young guys starring a cat named Cat the Cat. I’m also writing a Knuffle Bunny: A Cautionary Musical for the Kennedy Center and voicing and producing short animated films based on my books. Other than that, I’m happily on the lookout for some new, un-cool thing to work on.

The Remote Excursions of a Ninja Photographer

Sat, 16 May 2009 12:12:02 GMT

In our quest to find the most interesting people doing out of the ordinary type things we came across Ben Ditto. Some people will go to any length to do what they love. This kind of living is so rare in our culture you can almost refer to these people as “the others”. Ben is an “other”. From random childhood excursions with his parents, to disappearing for months at a time to take unreal photographs as a grown up Ben has found a way to live above the frayed lines of normalcy.

As an accomplished mountaineer/climber, skier and photographer Ben possesses a rare skill-set. Strap on a pack, grab your hackie sack and get to know Ben Ditto.

TDS: Can you identify what it is that drives you to seek out such remote places to photograph (and experience)?

DITTO: Mountain wilderness areas are simply the types of places that I prefer to be in. I think having this preference is a matter of luck in who my parents were; the fact that they always had my brothers and I out in the woods, backpacking and going on random excursions. I can't remember a time when we packed up the car to do a normal family vacation. We would always go to some rural southern state park and get lost looking for waterfalls and caves.

From these early experiences afield, I became passionate about rock climbing, which pretty much amounts to sitting around in the dirt all day enjoying the nature around you. Climbing areas are frequently off the beaten track, places where you don't see the general public once you leave the car park. I am basically spoiled and am generally not happy chillin’ with the huddled masses.

TDS: What part of your job would people understand the least?

DITTO: One of the in-obvious realities of my work and lifestyle is the need to react to work opportunities. It would seem from the surface that the travel/adventure photographer has indefinite freedom and is able to make 100% of decisions based on preference or planning. While this is true in the larger scheme, I do find that I have to chase commercial work, which means delaying plans for working on personal or non-paying projects.

For example, I have been working on a documentary project in the great basin deserts of eastern Nevada and western Utah for a few years now. It’s a project I think about constantly, but it doesn't pay the bills. One of the challenges in my future as a photographer is to figure out funding options for projects like this.

TDS: What startles you most about some of the extreme places you find people living in?

DITTO: What has struck me as interesting in many places I've travelled is that people who live a subsistence lifestyle, who seem to be poor and barely making it, are likely to be the people who will last the longest on this planet. Communities of people who are living isolated lives with livestock and crops will be the least affected by the crises of cash economies.

This is just my opinion of course, but it stems from my own lack of ability to survive the week without a grocery store near by. I hold a deep sense of respect to people who possess the skills necessary to provide for themselves and their families outside of the constructs of a developed society. So I suppose to answer the question directly, what I find most startling about subsistence cultures are the questions they raise about the culture of which I am part.

TDS: Do you think that we (humanity) have lost our sense of adventure? Why?

DITTO: I think our tendency towards seeking security has led to a lack of uncertainty in our daily lives, which is essentially a lack of adventure. Sure, we all have our doubts about career and social concerns, but these things are just self-imposed technicalities. Humans have only lived in society the way we think of it now for a small fraction of our existence. We spent a lot more time scraping out a living through agriculture and hunting and gathering than we have in an organized society.

What this means to me is that adventure is ingrained in us; we are accustomed to a high level of insecurity in our material position. In the past, and to subsistence cultures today, adventure is waking up and maintaining the fields and animals you depend on. I think this is why people decide to go into the mountains, hunt, drive race cars, sail boats, travel abroad and so on.

TDS: What or who are your influences, artistically and otherwise? How have family and friends influenced your work or career path?

DITTO: When it comes to photographic mentors I'm drawn to the work of documentary artists. I'm most impressed by the work of artists who dedicate long periods of time to one project. One particularly inspirational figure is Edward Curtis. He spent most of his adult life documenting Native American culture in the turn of the century (19-20th).

He traveled around the American west (at first and then later branched out) by horse and wagon with a studio tent and a rough audio recorder and documented tribal culture. His motivation was the idea that these native cultures were dying out—that the settlers were displacing them, which was putting the longevity of their customs in serious peril. I suppose it’s a fine line between anthropology and art in this case.

TDS: Climbing, mountaineering can be lonely ... a mind game if you will. What is the draw to a sport that pits man against nature in such an extreme way?

DITTO: I think people can feel lonely even when surrounded by people. While climbing, one has to rely on training, skill, and instinct in order to push through moments of doubt or uncertainty. The bottom line is that climbing is all about failure, dealing with failure, and turning it into motivation.

That said, in my life there has been no moment more satisfying than being back at the base of a peak or climb, lying in the grass, in the sun, with all the stresses of the weeks or months of preparation and climbing behind you. Unfortunately, that feeling never lasts for long as there's always another project.

TDS: If you could only take three things (other than your clothing) on your next excursion what would they be and why?

DITTO: I once went to Thailand with 3 beautiful women. I'd like to find a way to make that happen again. Seriously though, never underestimate the power of travelling with friends. I frequently find myself travelling alone due to the logistics of other people’s lives—who else has time to go to South America for three months at a whack? Some of the most productive periods of my life have been due to similarity in schedule between collaborators and myself.

TDS: How difficult (or easy) has it been pursuing your dream as an adventure photographer?

DITTO: I became interested in photography in high school and had been climbing well before that. I knew that I would never get paid to shoot photos if I wasn't already shooting them on my own, so I set out to develop a portfolio in what I know best. My skill set as a climber and skier enables me to accompany high-end athletes and participate in expeditions as both climber and photographer.

Most other photographers are just dead weight when trying to shoot ads or stories in an expedition framework (there are notable exceptions such as Jimmy Chin and Tim Kemple).   My real passion in photography lies in the realm of photojournalism and documentarianism, which is a transition I'm moving towards currently.

My interest focuses on environmental issues in wilderness and mountain environments. This includes how communities balance eco-tourism and industrial pressures, dams, water rights, wilderness preservation, and land use.

TDS: We saw a cool picture in Patagonia's latest catalog that you took of a guy doing a back flip on a slack line. Can you explain this emerging sport to us? Do you slack line?

DITTO: I'm not really a slacklining scholar, but as far as I know it became popular in climbing circles due to all the spare time climbers tend to have. You can visualize it like this:

You've just climbed for 4 days in a row…
Your fingertips are bleeding, motivation lacking, all you want to do is hang out at the campsite today…
But this is the 15th time you've gone through this climb and rest cycle on this trip and you're out of books, sick of your girlfriend (or maybe the other way round)…
You've mastered the hacky sack, can juggle 5 balls or 4 clubs, are out of wax for pyrotechnics displays...

In short, what am I going to do today?

Slacklining is a mix of athleticism and zenful serenity. It requires balance, focus, patience and persistence. It actually develops subtle muscle groups in the shoulders and abdomen, which is beneficial to climbers who tend to have wild imbalances between their pushing and pulling muscles.

Slacklining is just another part of the ninja training circuit ... we all want to be ninjas, right.?

TDS: What new trips do you have lined up? Where can we find more of your photographs in the coming months?

DITTO: I recently returned from shooting an expedition in Torres Del Paine National Park, where my partners and I free climbed the East Face of Torre Central via a route done in 1974 by some very hearty South Africans. The route wound up being 30 pitches spread out over 1200 meters and we stayed on the wall for 13 days.

Eventually these photos will become available to the public through various European magazines (Campo Base, Climber, Vertical, Climb, and Bergsteger) features and ads (Patagonia). So stay tuned.

As for new trips, I've been scrambling the last few weeks to salvage some plans that were marginalized when my car was stolen shortly after returning from South America. For now, it looks like I'll be heading to San Francisco for a bit as well as to Australia in late May.

You can find more of Ben’s photos here. If you are lame nut-job who stole Ben’s car, kindly return it.

Mediating The Inexplicable

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 19:00:03 GMT

Stephen King once wrote, “Poetry is better than ever. ... there are also many brilliant practitioners of the art out there.” Poet Major Jackson is just that, a brilliant practitioner. We stole some time with Major to talk about our first black President, the city of Philadelphia, and his position as Poetry Editor of the Harvard Review. Once you are have finished the morning paper and have poured your second cup of coffee take a bite out of Major Jackson’s interview. There’s plenty to chew on.

TDS: In “Blunts” from Leaving Saturn you equate the writings of a poet to the “tongue of God.” In light of this, could you explain the poet’s responsibilities as you see them?

JACKSON: Poets have long mediated the inexplicable, mysterious aspects of human existence, even our murky interior lives, the thoughts we possess within such as love, envy, grief, explicit joy, acute angst and depression in language that divines our collective and individual journeys, somehow rendering life less dazzling and enigmatic.

To some extent, this means that the poet is responsible only to their own swirling through the cosmos, but his captured, stylized self, his lyric expressions, become emblematic of our own.

TDS: Do you feel the role of the black poet, and more generally the black artist, has changed since the election of Barack Obama? There’s no question that racism will continue to exist, but are there any specific goals of the black artist that have been reached with this event? And will it change your work?

JACKSON: I’ve been attempting to articulate the role African American humanists, poets, playwrights, novelists, artists, and musicians have played in the struggle for dignity and recognition in the election of Barack Obama. It is easy to draw a line between Martin Luther King or Malcolm X or Frederick Douglas and the countless number of unnamed African American religious and political leaders who have marched, demanded, and forcefully articulated a vision of America that is inclusive, a vision that led us to this point where we, as a polity, can elect an African American to serve in the highest office of the United States of America.

However, it takes not too much nuance to realize that those who most laid the foundation of that vision were those who had the imaginative capacity to create this moment before it existed in their plays, in their novels and short stories, in their improvised solos, to create songs, to utter, name, and represent a kind of freedom in their lyric poems, to bend the language so that it is not only “dreamed a world” but became that world. Ultimately, these folks saw the genius and capacity for what America could be as articulated in its founding documents.

African American artists will continue to write their lives, with great or little consciousness of their identity, but, maybe more importantly, because of their boldness of expression and lovely assertion, as has happened in the past with women writers and scholars, with Latino writers and scholars, with Gay writers and scholars, and so on, others have and will continue to follow.

But the work of African American poets and artists cannot be proscriptive or continue to take on the burden of leading the country into some moral awareness of itself as a nation of diverse beings. The talent of so many artists will wither and die. This cannot be the sole agenda of Black Art. The agenda can be both socially driven as well as formally and aesthetically adventurous, even despite its surface apolitical stance.

TDS: In his book Catching the Big Fish, filmmaker David Lynch calls Philadelphia “a hellhole.” And even though you clearly hold Philadelphia in high regard, in your poem “Leaving Saturn” you call it “Death’s headquarters.” How does the dark side of Philadelphia inform your work?

JACKSON: I disagree with David Lynch. Philadelphia is paradisal, even where blight exists. That phrase “Death’s headquarters” came directly from the mouth of Sun Ra, who uttered these words after his arrival to Philadelphia, riffing and signifying on the notion of Philadelphia as the birthplace of freedom, where, of course, the United States of Constitution was signed at Congress Hall on present day Independence Mall.

Sun Ra believed the cosmos, and particularly planet Earth, needed healing and rejuvenation, and that it was his music that would revive it. I enjoyed that notion, and loved the antagonistic space Sun Ra and other artists occupy.

TDS: How has your position as the Poetry Editor of the Harvard Review and the move to a more rural area affected your work?

JACKSON: Editing is strenuous and unremarked work, but I enjoy whole-heartedly the process of reading and soliciting and seeing work into publication. For me, it’s curating of the highest order. My hope is that the poems delight and fill a space in the spirit that one did not realize needed addressed until the poem came along.

Editing does make me hyper-aware of my own work. How one is able to subject themselves and their work to such scrutiny is baffling at times. Being able to generate some psychic and emotional distance between the creative work and one’s self is one of the important developments a true artist has to make.

My Vermont is quaint comparative to My Philadelphia. Green in all the right places. I’ve yet to ponder seriously the move to Burlington, Vermont has made on my creative life. I mean: it’s a stunningly beautiful place, with its challenges, of course. It’s a kind of spiritual privilege to be here. I’m looking forward to writing poems about dreaming in green and noticing cyclical changes in the air.

TDS: Which poet has influenced your work the most? Are there any contemporary poets who excite you?

JACKSON: I’m reading Cavafy now. Rilke, too. I’m looking for poets whose pitch and utterances reach for the heavens, the angelic, or for poets for whom Eros is meaningful. Sentimentality doesn’t bother me. I’ve a problem with people who are troubled by emotion or consider certain kinds of utterances and imagery, assertions in poems. I’ve fallen in love with so many poets; sometimes three or four at a time. Who can resist Neruda in love? Seriously.

Contemporary poets? Too many to name and they are my peers and it’s not typically a good idea to spotlight a few blades of grass in a field tall prairie: Malena Morling, Claudia Rankine, Harryette Mullens, Terrance Hayes, and on and on. Really, I could just name drop till the cauldron is over-running and we’re standing above it stirring our stew of grass.

What I will say, however, about contemporary poetry is that it is alive and well, and I suspect, I am predicting a shift and restlessness that will align itself with the changes of our age.

TDS: Tell us a bit about the Dark Room Collective. How has being a member of this group advanced your work?

JACKSON: Dark Room Collective was an important moment in time of black literature development in a greater, larger cultural moment in which black artists born between 1955 and 1975 found their voice and identity that coincided with a maturity of what black art could do in America post-Civil Rights. It could wear argyles and throw-up a Black Power fist. It could listen to Stravinsky and Public Enemy’s Yo, Bum Rush the Show, in the span of an hour. It could absorb and read Robert Hayden, Jean Toomer, alongside William Faulkner and not miss a beat. So, it was in Cambridge/Boston circa 1987 with a group of aspiring black writers and artists who spanned outwards with large arms to embrace any black writer who had a sophistication and commitment to art and artfulness.

TDS: In Hoops, your longest poem is a letter to Gwendolyn Brooks. What does her work mean to you and what do you hope your poem does for its readers?

JACKSON: Gwendolyn Brooks was one of the greatest poets of the twentieth century. She modeled a way to live in the world and in the world of poetry. I hope my poem serves as an impetus for non-readers of her work to become aware and to seek her out.

To the initiated, I’m hoping to highlight some of the joy of writing poetry, of seeing, both with aesthetic eyes and political eyes, which is what she encouraged us all to do.

TDS: In “Designer Kisses,” from your forthcoming collection, Holding Company, you refer to the “empire of blab.” Could you elaborate on this? And how does this empire relate to world of the speaker in the poem?

Designer Kisses

I’m glum about your sportive flesh in the empire of blab,
And the latest guy running his trendy tongue like a tantalizing surge
Over your molars, how droll. Love by a graveyard is redundant,
But the skin is an obstacle course like Miami where we are
Inescapably consigned: tourists keeping the views new.
What as yet we desire, our own fonts of adoration. By morning,
We’re laid out like liquid timepieces, each other’s exercise
In perpetual enchantment, for there is that beach in us that is untranslatable;
Footprints abound. I understand: you’re at a clothes rack at Sak’s
Lifting a white linen blouse, at tear’s edge, wondering.

JACKSON: That phrase just came to me one spring on a subway train up to Morningside Heights when I first taught at Columbia University. I was attempting to write a poem about sex and love and New York as the Empire State came to me. But, it also alludes to art, literature, and poetry as a kind of kingdom wherein multiple conversations are simultaneously taking place that leads us to a kind of babble in the end. How does individuality assert itself in art under such awarenesses?

TDS: Is “Going to Meet the Man,” also from Holding Company, a description of a specific event? If so, can you tell us about the event and your immediate response to it?

Going to Meet the Man

As if one day, a grand gesture of the brain, an expired
subscription to silence, a decision raw as tabasco peppers
in the mouth, a renewal to decency like a trash can
smashing a storefront window, like shattering the glass face
of a time-clock, where once a man forced to the ground,
a woman spread-eagled against a wall, where a shot into
the back of an unarmed teen, finally, like a decisive spark,
the engine of action, as if a civilian standoff: on one side:
a barricade of shields, helmets, batons, and pepperspray;
on the other: a cocktail of fire, all that is just and good.

JACKSON: The poem is a commissioned response to William Cordova’s brilliant painting of the same title. Both the poem and the painting are included in an exhibition currently up at the Fleming Museum on University of Vermont’s campus where I work titled “More Than Bilingual.”

In the painting, a cop car emits flames and smoke as if a molotov cocktail had been thrown into the interior. Thus, I imagined a riot, and recent images of protest around the globe, especially in relation to Bush’s war, took root and evolved into that poem.

TDS: Do you have any advice for high school teachers and college professors who are trying to engage their students in poetry? Is there a bridge that can be built between the lyrical writings of musicians whose work they incessantly consume and the poetry of someone like you?

JACKSON: Teach students to learn and cherish ambiguity; poems will give them glimpses into themselves, but that truth-telling quality cannot be anatomized. Teach students to discern the difference between rhetoric and cliché in poetry and true, lyric song, but it takes a special kind of teacher to create a lesson plan around Terrance Hayes work or Harryette Mullens. That’s the bridge, poetry as a “Song of Myself,” but not mere self-expression, but a linguistic vehicle that amplifies the self.

TDS: Besides Holding Company, what do you have coming up next?

JACKSON: I’m still working on a verse play, a few collaborations with musicians and dances, and see on the horizon some poems that should have been written ten years ago, similar in scope and range to my first book Leaving Saturn.

Riding Through The Silent Forest

Tue, 07 Apr 2009 18:02:21 GMT

Most people look at successful athletes and marvel at their ability. When we, the viewers, are separated from their feats by the two-dimensional media forms—magazine, television, Internet—it is difficult to understand what really goes into being “world class”.

Matt Hunter is world class, though he would say he’s just a kid at heart doing what he loves best—riding mountain bikes. For Matt, it’s the intangibles that pull him to the unique sport of freeride mountain biking: the solitude, the endless slivers of singletrack and the challenge of pulling off massive airs. But Matt’s ability didn’t just happen. Hours of riding and falling and getting back up mark his life and have shaped his emerging career.

We marvel at Matt’s ability to fly through the air on a mountain bike. We marvel at the way he carves a trail at break neck speeds. But most of all we marvel that beneath the world-class ability there is a person who has shrugged off the distractions of culture to seize their dream—riding bikes all the time.

TDS: What or who got you into riding?

HUNTER: Like a lot of kids, I grew up riding bikes. I rode to school with my sisters every day. We didn’t watch TV and I never had video games, so after school I would just keep riding. My best friend and I would find old scraps of lumber and build terrible, sketchy jumps, then session them.

Some older cousins I looked up to got into XC (cross-country) racing. I was maybe 11 years old and I would hear stories about them racing. I decided I wanted to try it. I had a heavy, rigid steel 15 speed. The race was pretty much a gravel road for 10kilometers. I won, and I was hooked.

I raced XC for years, until I got a summer job and didn’t have the time or desire to race anymore. I bought what I thought was a good freeride bike and started working on riding fast down the hills. If I built a jump and got comfortable on it, I would build a bigger one. Riding changed quickly for me in those days.

TDS: Some guys race downhill, others attack slopestyle; you are more of a big-mountain rider. What draws you to that side of the sport?

HUNTER: Well, it wasn’t like I woke up one morning and decided, “ I am going to be a big mountain rider.” I’m a product of my environment. I just rode the way that was most fun for me. I have an amazing landscape surrounding me, and I love to explore. The riding that resulted can be called “big mountain,” I guess.

About four or five years ago, slopestyle events were gaining popularity. I rode in a few of them, just because I got invited. When I saw some of the footage of myself, it just looked like I wasn’t having fun. I told my sponsors I didn’t want to do any slopestyle events, and they were cool with it.

TDS: You're involved with a group known as The Collective. You've been a featured rider in the films they produce and have even contributed as narrator for the Roam film. Do you have film or journalistic aspirations? Or, is your contribution with The Collective a simple by-product of the relationships developed along the way?

HUNTER: I don’t think I had much interest in telling stories when I first started shooting with those guys. But over the years I spent a lot of time with the film crew, photographer, even writer—they became friends. Those guys are all so passionate about their work that it really rubbed off on me. Whether it is a short film clip, an article or a photo, they want to make sure it tells a story about mountain biking. Now I think about it all the time, it has become something I really enjoy. That is what I focus on as my job. Share the ride, and get people stoked to ride.

TDS: In an email string you told me that you and some friends wanted to ride so bad that you took your bikes apart and hiked forever just to enjoy a 2-minute downhill. Most people would not "get" that. Is this kind of passion necessary in life for a fuller existence? Why do most people simply not bother to explore outside their comfort zones?

HUNTER: The question of whether or not something difficult is “worth it” is something I ask myself a lot. When I look back at my most memorable days, the times I will remember forever, without fail there was some kind of huge obstacle that had to be overcome. You know, the things that you consider the morning before heading out that almost make you want to stay home.

It seems great challenges or risk make the reward that much sweeter. The evolution of this realization is to find great challenges or risk and then just try anyway. Of course there is a limit to where this attitude can take you safely, but by getting close to that limit life seems to expand. I think the reason a lot of people don’t go past their comfort zones is simply because they haven’t realized what they are capable of, and what they can achieve if risk is managed properly.

TDS: Describe your mindset before and during an approach for a big jump.

HUNTER: Before an approach to a big jump, everything has to be considered. The speed required must be accurately estimated. The horizontal and vertical distances of the move determine the speed but jump shape, wind, corners, even the rolling resistance of the dirt become factor in on big airs.

Also, the risk vs. reward debate is raging at this point. It has to be decided if the move is worth it. Once these critical factors have been decided and conditions are right, the physical approach is very different. It’s commitment time, time to let instincts take over. You visualize the move being completed and then just ride.

TDS: In one film you bailed hard on a massive jump. A bit later it showed you standing at the jump again three months later ready to try again. Talk about your mindset here as it relates not only to riding but to all of life.

HUNTER: The mindset that works for me in this situation is to stay positive. I focus on what I learned in the last attempt and try not to make the same mistake. This approach always works; so many shitty situations can have a hidden positive, or at least a good reason for a laugh.

TDS: When it comes down to it, big mountain riding is between you and the mountain. Talk about the solitude that you encounter while riding or seeking out new places to ride.

HUNTER: Man, that’s one of my favorite things. A XC ride through a silent forest is the best. That’s the thing about mountain bikes; they can quickly take you to new places quietly, you feel so fast like you are exploring without having any effect on your surroundings. The feeling of solitude that mountain bikers seek is easy to find on singletrack.

TDS: Though there are times of solitude in mountain biking the sport produces a tight-knit riding group and has a strong sub-culture to it. Talk about the idea of community and how it factors into your experience with the sport.

HUNTER: Mountain biking’s sub-culture is unlike anything else. I think that there are two reasons people get into riding. One reason is because riding is so damn fun. The other is because the people who are into riding are awesome. I have met mountain bikers from all over the world, who ride all different disciplines. It’s like there is some kind of underlying brotherhood, a sense of camaraderie that exists. It’s like an “understanding” … I don’t know where it comes from. I have met so many good friends through biking. The sport just attracts a certain kind of person I guess.

TDS: So much of the younger generation is dialed into social networking sites, television and other forms of digital media. How do you manage to stay above the fray with all of this and remain focused on your passions and pursuits? Or do you battle with that stuff as well?

HUNTER: I try to ignore the things that I see as useless. I want to keep my eyes open and notice when something is bullshit. There is so much out there that it’s overwhelming sometimes. TV is a complete waste of time. The Internet can be useful, I use it but I am careful about what I do. Time is so valuable; I just try to use my time well.

TDS: What are your goals in mountain biking? Do you hope to become more involved on the "story telling" aspect of things at some point (i.e. films like Seasons)?

HUNTER:I want to keep riding. I enjoy filming and shooting stills of the ride. I am a part of the story being told. Nothing is better than having a kid come up to you and tell you that you got them stoked to ride—to keep doing that would be amazing. I like taking people riding, I coach a camp in the summer and it’s great. Maybe someday I will do more of that, I don’t know. Taking people out and showing them your trails is another way of sharing the ride.

TDS: What's next for you?

HUNTER: Well, it’s still winter here in BC so I am going ski touring! We just got a big dump and it’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow. I sure can’t wait to ride though, should be soon.

How To Build A Stickfort

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 10:39:25 GMT

When you see an old car door in the middle of the woods you usually murmur something about the environment or wonder how far away the redneck village is. Not Adam Haynes. He sees a story behind the car door. He sees urban and rural mixing together to form some odd elixir—simmering and ready to be captured on a canvas. Adam’s perspective is compelling with an earthy grit that finds expression on the bottom of snowboards, old wooden doors or even the side of a van.

We found Adam’s work propped up against a little stick fort somewhere in the northwest. Others had found him too—organizations like adidas and Nike and Gnu Snowboards all put Adam’s talent to good use. Luckily, they don’t have a monopoly on his work. If you would like to get a print, head on over to Adam’s site, drop a line to say “Hey” and pick one up. In the meantime, step into the stickfort and get to know Adam Haynes.

TDS: If you hadn't "lucked" (as you say) into the apparel gig for adidas and now Nike what would you be doing?

Haynes: I'd probably be driving trucks for UPS! I think it takes about five years to work your way up from loading trailers to sorting to finally getting your brown shorts and driving. That's what I was doing when I got hired at adidas; loading trailers at the shipping hub in Portland. In all honesty, I have no idea. I might be back in Montana or I might still be in front of a computer somewhere. Of course I'd like to think I'd be drawing, but I don't think about it too much. I'm very fortunate to be where I'm at right now and I look forward to what the future holds.

TDS: Your work has an overt earthiness to it. How has your life journey formed your artistic expression?

Haynes: I'm definitely a rural roamer. I enjoy the culture and the energy of the city, but the places that make me feel alive and inspired are the open spaces: the rivers, the mountains. It opens my mind; it makes me feel small. I like to take long walks off the beaten path to study the complexity of animal tracks, the way the wind moves the soil around, the patterns of leaves and bark.

At the same time, my days spent in the city have changed the style in which I work. The look I strive to achieve is more urban, more stylized than most of the nature-inspired art I find in rural areas. I love the look of flat colors and bold outlines, unexpected color choices and uncommon subject matter. Thusly, my inspiration comes from experiences with the natural world, and my style has developed through encounters with urban art and design aesthetics.

TDS: Besides the natural world, what catches your eye and makes you want to capture it in your art?

Haynes: My favorite subjects are objects and vehicles that have been customized, pieced together, chopped apart and otherwise changed to reflect the personalities and motives of the builder/destroyer. There can be so much personality in a found object. But it’s not like I just go to the junkyard and find beat up old crap.

Usually what inspires me is finding this subject matter in random or unlikely locations (like an old car door from the fifties leaning up against a tree, miles from a road). How did it get there? What sort of history is embedded in it? Where’s the rest of the car?

TDS: Why do you like to paint/illustrate/etc. on hard surfaces? What is the draw?

Haynes: I like to use my painting surfaces as an extension of the subject matter. Most of my work is old rusted out hulks and ramshackle constructions; it feels much more organic to be painting on a twenty-five year old cabinet door than a brand new canvas. If it's a particularly beautiful piece of wood, I find it very aesthetic to let some of that show through. I try to enhance the whole piece through choice of surface.

In addition, those old chunks of wood are heavy; they've got a weight to them. After they've been varnished, they're tough and I like the durability that comes with a solid chunk of wood.

TDS: Describe your creative process. How is that different for commercial work versus personal work?

Haynes: Commercial work generally starts with a brief. There is a goal from the start. I usually do a lot of sketching during the early stages, and the work will go through many incarnations before a final sketch is created. I tend to work closely with the art director or designer to achieve the desired look and feel of the project. Once everything is tight, I ink and color and it's done.

When I'm working on personal projects, the process tends to be much more organic. If I'm not particularly inspired, I'll go for walks, take lots of pictures and do a lot of thinking before I ever put pen to paper. Once I start, there's one try. Sure I'll change things around in the composition, but I try to let the "mistakes" and imperfections come through without suppression.

If I don't like the color of something I just paint over the top of it. These changes add layers and complexity, and are a huge part of the overall journey of each piece. I rarely paint the same thing twice, whereas I will often redraw a commercial piece until it achieves the desired look.

TDS: On your site the "Kiddie Cars" piece really drew us in. As an artist how does a youthful perspective play into your interpretation of what you see?

Haynes: I try to approach my subject matter with the mindset that I’m seeing it for the first time. In that way, it’s almost a child’s perspective. Instead of tracking down the owners of the property or talking to old timers (which is interesting in a whole other way) I prefer to make up my own stories about a subject’s origins and means of being. I find that approaching subject matter with few preconceptions leads to interesting discoveries.

TDS: You are finding success commercially as an artist. Have you had to deal with projects that "force" you to compromise the integrity of your work? If so, how do you handle the tension between the two worlds?

Haynes: I’ve worked in the commercial side of things for a while now, and there have been some times when I’ve been uncomfortable with the final outcome of a project. Often the client has a different aesthetic than my own. I’ve found that there are some battles worth fighting for, and sometimes you’ve just got to let it go. I do the best I can for the client, and after I send it off to them, I don’t have much control over what happens to it.

It’s not really worth taking someone to court or burning a bridge because I’m not down with their color choices. Instead, I try to learn as much as I can from each experience so I can communicate my own wishes better the next time. Working for a large company like adidas helped me to develop a thick skin and to remove myself a bit from the design process. There will always be compromise in commercial work, and it’s more important to me that the client is getting what they want than how I feel about it.

I don’t have to compromise anything when I’m doing personal projects, so I’m able to put a lot more of myself into those works. It’s a nice balance, as long as I have the time to paint now and then.

TDS: Would you rather be outside in nature or inside drawing natural elements?

Haynes: It depends. Usually I’d rather be outside. Playtime is always better than work time. But I often find that time outside inspires me to dash inside to pick up my pens and make something happen. And vice versa. Once I’ve exhausted the creative juices and I’m weary of sitting at the drawing table, I yearn for some outdoor time to recharge. It’s a nice cycle and it works well for me.

TDS: If you could pick another kind of medium to express yourself what would it be and why?

Haynes: I’ve always loved ceramics. In school I did quite a bit of work in with sculpture. The only reason I don’t now is for lack of studio space. Right now my studio is right off my living room, and ceramic work has a tendency to create huge amounts of dust and mess. One of these days I’ll move to some property with a barn, and I’ll get it all set up with a kiln.

TDS: What is next for you? Can you give us a sneak peak into your forthcoming projects?

Haynes: Right now I’m screen-printing some new posters and creating an updated online presence. I’ve got a show in LA in the works for May and I’m working on developing more clients in the fishing, snowboarding, and outdoor industries. Long-term projects include illustrating a children’s book and taking my paintings to the next level.

Remaining Curious

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 16:59:04 GMT

Online video is everywhere. It’s quick and choppy and seldom compelling. YouTube has flattened the standards for video and film, making the “everyman” a veritable Spielberg. Pardon the hyperbole but the fact is most online filmmaking cares little for art and craft.. You might try linking to HillmanCurtis.com. Hillman is a rare breed of short-filmmaker whose work is meant for web, but has the texture of a film. His online Artist Series and films are striking in their simplicity—drawing viewers in with fascinating compositions and beautiful scores.

Before you read the interview take a few moments to familiarize yourself with his Artist Series and short films. We’re confident you’ll see that Hillman is not “everyman”— he is a welcomed break from the vapid monotony of humdrum online video.

TDS: You are an interactive designer, filmmaker, writer, and (formerly) rock musician. What has been the common thread for you that runs through these various creative outlets?

CURTIS: Exploration I think. Exploring yourself and the world—working things out. I mean with graphic or interactive design there’s a real need for problem solving and it’s most often concerned with commerce, but everything else becomes a form of personal expression. Richard Avedon once said that his portraits had more to do with him than his subjects. The artist Jim Dine said to me during one of our shoots that all art was self-portraiture. I think that’s what the common thread is.

TDS: Your films are mainly to be experienced via the web. How do the two mediums (film and web) compliment, or oppose, one another?

CURTIS: I think they only complement each other. As long as you keep in mind that very few people are going to want to watch your feature length film online. I think that the best time format for original online film falls somewhere in the 5 to 15 minute range. Of course we all watch feature films via Netflix or iTunes but many of those films were made for, and played first on, the big screen, and when we watch them, we switch into that mode of watching. For my films, films meant specifically for the online community, I accept the fact that more people will watch a 5-minute film than a 20-minute film. I absolutely love that limitation and opportunity. I think there are so many possibilities to tell a rich story in that time frame.

TDS: Has technology changed the way stories are told?

CURTIS: Not at all. Technology is powerful, but it simply can’t touch something as vital as storytelling. It’s still about moving someone and it still is about a character(s) experiencing something, making decisions, and changing as a result.

TDS: Your films tend to be minimalistic in style? Is there intentionality here? What is the philosophy behind this?

CURTIS: I like two characters and a room. It makes it easy to film but challenging to write and I think challenging for the actors. But it’s beautiful when it works and perfect for the web film format (5-15 minutes). I have always leaned toward minimalism in everything I have done. I like to get rid of the extraneous—the beautiful picture that adds nothing or the sweeping dolly shot that gets in the way of the story. If it doesn’t directly support the theme, yank it. I really like Bridge and Embrace—two actors, one location, natural light, good simple script and solid acting.

TDS: What attracts you to the artists that you have interviewed in your Artist Series?

CURTIS: Their work. Someone like James Victore, I can look at his work all day; same with Paula Scher. I have a huge poster of hers in my bedroom. Every morning I wake up and look over at it and am happy. Milton Glaser makes you happy if he just looks at you and really happy if he talks to you. He is the wise man you read about in fables and myths; you feel it in his presence. David Carson is an enigma; he makes beautiful work and is unable to really talk about it. You can take a still frame from any of Mark Romanek’s videos and frame it; the films themselves are brilliant. And Mr. Sagmeister is a wonderful designer and artist, thoughtful and funny—awe inspiring. I could go on, but you get the point.

TDS: What have you learned most from these artists?

CURTIS: To remain curious.

TDS: What life influences most impact your film work?

CURTIS: That’s a great question. I honestly haven’t given it that much thought. I get into certain spaces, where I think about a certain theme and then I am compelled to write about it in script form. It’s not that linear though. I might be lightly vibing on say “change”... I mean in the last year who hasn’t felt approaching change, both good and bad, but necessary? And a few months later I will sit down and start writing a script, maybe without intention or direct intent on the theme of change.

For example I wrote two scripts over the same three or four days. One was Bridge and the other was Circles. We shot them on two consecutive Sundays. Two really different films but both born from the same sense of things changing, and both are ultimately concerned with a sense of change that you feel but don’t really understand.

TDS: Are there any upcoming projects you are working on that you are excited about?

CURTIS: I am almost at rough-cut stage of my first full-length documentary. It’s on David Bryne with Brian Eno. We followed David around on his latest tour, shot a bunch of shows and got great insightful interviews from David, his band, Brian, the dancers and choreographers. (His latest show features modern dancers). It’s looking pretty good so far.

The Daily Monster

Thu, 05 Mar 2009 13:08:30 GMT

Growing up, monsters got a bad rap. They were always hiding under the bed, or behind the shower curtain, or around the corner. Just waiting there, to scare the bliggity-criggity out of you.

Stefan Bucher saw monsters too. But his were a bit friendlier and once he saw one he knew he had to draw it. He drew 100 different monsters in 100 days and fans started writing stories to accompany the monster drawings. The idea caught on and now the monsters are popping up everywhere: from his book 100 Days of Monsters, to LA Weekly, to Wired magazine, to, most recently, PBS’s Electric Company. Check out a video of Stefan making a monster then proceed (with caution) as Stefan talks to us about these furry little creatures.

TDS: Give us a little background into the project and how it came about?

BUCHER: The first Monster appeared to me while I was driving. Just popped up on my arm. This happens to me every now and again, but this was a clearer view than most, so I thought “Gotta put this little guy on paper.” I had so much fun with that drawing that I immediately made 49 more for a book called Upstairs Neighbors.

While I was shopping that book around I wanted to keep myself engaged with the Monsters. When you’re trying to find people to back your project it’s very easy to drift into becoming the executor of your creative estate; which is a dusty, joyless state of being. It was important to keep drawing new Monsters, and a series of events lead me to the idea of filming the process for my then new blog.

It never occurred to me that the Monsters would find the audience that they have. I didn’t even tell my friends about them, because I thought I might not stick with it, that it wouldn’t be fun. But then it very quickly grew into the brilliant online community of people with a need to tell stories and draw their own creatures.

Like most things, the Monsters came to be as an almost unconscious reaction to the circumstances of my life. The brain tries to balance itself when jostled. I had allowed myself to slide into a tense and intractable situation, so these happy little creatures came out to let me have some fun.

TDS: Does drawing the monsters ever become mundane? How do you keep it fresh?

BUCHER: It only ever starts feeling mundane in the stretches when I can’t make time to draw new creatures. Then I’m just their traveling salesman. I’ve now drawn close to 500 Monsters — for the site, the book, murals, posters, covers, articles — and just when I think “Well, that’s it. I’ve done everything there is to do with the Monsters” some little change comes through on a drawing that gives me something new to play with for the next 20 or 30 creatures.

TDS: What lessons have you learned from the monsters regarding creativity and imagination?

BUCHER: The main lesson I learned is the power of incremental effort and process. I spend so much time being “angsty” and avoiding a new piece before I ever sit down. Making the Monsters daily didn’t leave time for any of that, and it reduced the pressure on each individual piece. If this one’s not my favorite, I get another chance tomorrow.

Looking back at the first 100 days I have a hard time grasping how I got that much work done in such a short time. But that’s exactly how I did get it done. I didn’t think about it. Don’t think. Sit your ass down and draw. That’s the lesson. (Says I: Honestly, it’s a hard one to put into action every time, even knowing how successful and satisfying it is. My brain seems hell-bent on distracting me.)

A couple just for fun...

TDS: If a royal rumble were to occur between all the monsters you have drawn, who would win?

BUCHER: The Monsters wouldn’t fight each other. They’d stand shoulder to shoulder against whoever was hassling them. And then they’d probably break into a kick line.

TDS: Can monsters really incorporate?

BUCHER: As a limited liability company or an S-Corp? Sure. There are some real legal and tax advantages to incorporating when you’re a Monster with a plan.

TDS: If a monster could give our country advice what would it be?

BUCHER: A daily dose of ink, mixed with two egg yolks keeps your fur soft and shiny.

Okay, back to more serious questions...

TDS: People write stories around the monsters. In a Business Week article you stated, "what the little kids come up with in their classes is just as valid as what somebody else does on their lunch break or a professional in their spare time." What lessons can adults learn from kids with regard to storytelling?

BUCHER: There’s the pervasive myth that all children are non-stop creativity machines, free and joyful and unrestrained in their stories and drawings. What I’ve started to understand through guiding Monster drawing workshops to humans of all ages is this: Little kids have very specific ideas that they try to express with very limited means. It takes a long, long time to train your hands to put something down that looks anything like what’s in your head.

A kid will make a crazy drawing that gets adults all excited. “Oh, and what’s this? Is that a magical hat that shoots sparks and fire into the sky?” I’ve done this many times. The kids get downright angry. “No!” they’ll say with great exasperation. “That’s her hair, and there are bows in it.” They get very frustrated that they’re not communicating what they intended.

But as long as they get to explain what there is to see, they have a great time and come up with some truly excellent drawings.

When the roles are reversed, and I give drawing demonstrations, adults are far more ready to give me the benefit of the doubt. If I draw a bird with giant feet, they say “Wow! Cool feet!” Kids ask why. “Why does it have feet like that? How can it fly with those?” And then you better have an explanation ready. Kids may start with a wonky premise, but after that they’re relentlessly linear. They won’t let you off the hook. It’s good training for me.

The real value of the Monsters is that it gets everybody drawing and writing. So many people come in being shy, feeling that they’re not talented. Starting with a random blob of ink gives them license — as it does me — to not worry about it, and just have at it.

TDS: The drawings are all done by hand, away from the computer. In design, and life, is there value in stepping away from technology sometimes?

BUCHER: That is the party line, of course: Step away from the computer! But I don’t necessarily think that’s true. There is value in making things. If switching from the computer to paper gets you working — great! But if you get all jazzed about some new software? That’s just as valid.

A whole bunch of Monsters came out of the fact that I was teaching myself a new animation program. The minute somebody comes out with a machine that can get ideas out of my head and into the world, I’m getting wired up. It’s not about the tools; it’s about distracting your brain — “Hey! Look over there!” — so you can get work done.

TDS: Besides the monsters, you are an accomplished graphic designer. How does the monster work influence your design work?

BUCHER: Having the Monsters has made me a better designer. Not through any particular method or style, but by giving me a chance to build something as I see it. Before all this every design job that came in had to fulfill two briefs: It had to serve the client’s needs, and it had to express my ideas and build my portfolio. Through the site and the opportunities it brought I now have that second part covered. This leaves me free to actually listen to my clients and focus on coming up with the best idea for them.

The upshot is, of course, that the resulting work has become much better, and in some cases much more personal than it would’ve ever been if I had kept pushing my own agenda the whole time.

TDS: What is up next for you? What are your plans for the monsters?

BUCHER: Cousins of the Monsters are currently popping up on the rebooted Electric Company on PBS, and I’m hoping to start telling some of my own stories with the creatures soon. In the meantime I’m finishing up my next book The Graphic Eye — Photographs by International Graphic Designers for a fall release. And of course, there are always a few skunk works projects brewing. I’m only getting started.

Great Lake Swimmers

Tue, 24 Feb 2009 13:50:17 GMT

“Is gravity the same for you … like unison falling into harmony?” If it is then you have much in common with Great Lake Swimmers front man Tony Dekker. Our introduction to Tony’s interview is one of “ifs.” If you want to hear what it feels like to stand along the St. Lawrence Riverbank; if your love for life’s tradition stands in tension with the ever increasing swath of cultural mediums; if you want to experience an intimate melodic collaboration of musicians who understand the value of space within song; if “feeling” is missing in your favorite iTunes playlist; if you are “saving up your tears for the next time it rains” … if any of these, then you need to do two things. Read this interview and purchase the Great Lake Swimmers album Lost Channels.

TDS: You have recorded music in an old grain silo, community halls, an old church and other non-typical locations. How have these environments affected the recording and creative process?

DEKKER: I have found that, for me, recording in special environments is a huge part of the creative process as it relates to shaping an album. You sort of deliver the songs differently when you record in these special places. Certain places are charged with a certain type of energy.

I first started recording in unusual places purely for sonic purposes: for the reverb quality, the acoustics, and everything. To me there is a difference between a real sounding natural reverb in a room compared to a computer generated one. At first it was important to me to get these acoustics down in a special place. But as I have gone through the process I’ve realized you are also documenting a place and there is an environmental layer of sound that is added to the recordings. These unusual spaces also allow me to perform a little differently. They allow me to reach a little deeper knowing that I am filling up this space.

TDS: Do you draw inspiration when writing from varied and unusual locations?

DEKKER: I try to write all the time. It is an ongoing process for me wherever I am. I do feel, though, most inspired when I get into a natural setting, natural surroundings—in a really quiet space and quiet frame of mind. This helps me to reflect on environments I have been in and inspires me to write.

TDS: How has your songwriting and music progressed over the last several years?

DEKKER: I think with the new album I have been trying to use the medium of the song a little bit more and trying to be more concise in the writing. I’m trying to use the three or four minute song as a way to condense a larger idea into a shorter amount of time and use that limited space to expound on a bigger idea.

In the back of my head, for this record, I had been listening to the Carter Family a lot, their early recordings in the late 1920s and early 1930s. They literally only had three minutes to get their point across so they had to say what they wanted to say in that amount of time. This concept was in my head as a standard, a guideline, a limitation or something to put on the songwriting to make sure I was being as concise as possible.

TDS: Your music and voice has been described as simultaneously lonely and hopeful. How do you manage to balance the sometimes sad and lonely realities of what you see and experience with hope for what might be? How do you manage to both be lonely and hopeful?

DEKKER: I am not sure exactly where or why that combination happens. I guess in the sad and lonely songs I am just able to sing them better or something—they just come out that way. I think, at the same time, I do like to think there is hopefulness in it too; I am just not sure why that combination happens in that particular way.

TDS: What is the meaning behind the title of your new album, Lost Channels?

DEKKER: We recorded the album in a section near the St. Lawrence River; on the Ontario and New York state sides of the river. We connected with a local historian from the region and he pointed us in the right direction towards some interesting spaces that we could record in. He also relayed a lot of interesting stories about the region while we were there. One of them was the story of this lost channel where there were some ships and crewmembers that had disappeared in the late 1700s, I think. It was a fascinating story and it seemed to encapsulate the idea of recording in that area too. So we used Lost Channels as a reference to this lost channel, as it’s called, in the St. Lawrence River.

As I think about the title more and the different levels of meaning, it kind of refers to a lost way of doing things or these sort of dying arts that we are experiencing these days.

TDS: Listening back to the album now, after completion, are there any unintended themes that developed?

DEKKER: I think definitely there is the thread of this river imagery that was running through it. Especially towards the later part of the recording once we were there. There was still a few songs being written and this theme of the river flows a little bit through those songs.

There’s also a sense of time: time past, the future, the passage of time in general, I think, is something that ran through the album. Not that I wanted to conceptualize anything or work towards an overlying theme, that wasn’t the point. To me it is another collection of songs. But, once you start to look at them in retrospect, you can see that “Oh yeah,” there are these sort of similarities in theme that pop up here and there.

TDS: Does your song writing come from a personal place or is it mostly fictional?

DEKKER: It is more a representation of an idea. It is not confessional personal songwriting. Sometimes the “I” in the song has to not be me personally, but a representation of a person. I don’t consider it personal or confessional songwriting; it is more for the sake of narrative. It is easier to embody a character than write in the third person.

TDS: So, in “She Comes To Me In Dreams,” this is not so much about a dream you had but about an idea you had.

DEKKER: Well, yes and no. That song in particular is about the idea of having someone coming to visit in a dream and it is sort of this abstract form of communication.

TDS: How does that tie into the first track on Lost Channels, “Palmistry”? Is it another form of abstract communication? Or are they related?

DEKKER: It is unrelated to me. “Palmistry” is a little bit more narrative because it basically tells the story of someone seeking advice from a palm reader in order to find something to hang on to that will provide some information about a better future for them.

TDS: In the song “Still,” you also talk about things that will be better or that are waiting to happen. Is there a connection or was there something you were hoping for when you wrote that?

DEKKER: I think with that song, it is more about the idea of perseverance and trying to tenaciously find some sort of enlightenment despite some pretty great obstacles, especially in the world around us right now. Obstacles and distractions I suppose. To me it is more about a tenacious type of persistence to become enlightened.

TDS: What do you hope the listener takes away from your music?

DEKKER: I guess I would hope that there is some kind of spiritual aspect to it—at least that some sort of feeling is evoked, be it an abstract feeling or a very direct feeling about something. I want people to walk away somehow being moved by a type of music that I hope is a little bit at odds with the sort of disposable nature of our musical culture right now. I hope they take away something that is a feeling or something that sticks with them a little bit longer than the two minutes that the song is playing.

TDS: Do you think the genre, or style, of music helps with that?

DEKKER: Definitely. I don’t feel that we are making folks songs in the folk tradition exactly. But I think we are definitely drawing on a traditional style that is infused with a new kind of spirit—this independent, DIY spirit that infuses these old traditions, which we have a great respect for.

TDS: You mention the disposable nature of things, specifically music. That is, you can download a song and then delete it whenever you want. There is nothing you actually touch. Do you think your music speaks against that?

DEKKER: Well, to a certain extent. It is necessary to be a part of it too and I understand the economic nature of the whole thing. I am not sure that the actual experience of a record is improved by technology. But, I have an iPod and iTunes and everything and am totally a part of that. It makes a lot of sense to me because I love that I can carry around 8,000 of my favorite songs wherever I go. I really like that aspect of it.

But in terms of really, truly experiencing a record I would much prefer to put on a vinyl record and experience the music in that way; with artwork and with something tactile and to have a real audio experience. I mean, they are getting better in terms of quality but there is still a little bit of a disconnect.

That being said, on the subject of a disposable culture, there is that aspect to it. There is this generation of music and art and photographs that are just zeros and ones essentially, just binary code. I am a little bit worried that all of this stuff is going to be lost because it doesn’t actually exist [laughs].

TDS: So is there a balance then? For example, I can buy your album on vinyl but then get the code for the MP3 download so I can carry it with me.

DEKKER: Yeah, which I think is great. For me, the portability of the MP3 is awesome and I love that aspect to it. But for a real, true music listening experience I like putting on a vinyl record.

TDS: You have a tour coming up and the new record, anything else going on?

There are a few collaborations with some friends that I am looking at in a one-off capacity, helping them out on songs. I am writing and recording a few songs for some compilations as well. There is one here in Toronto called Friends in Bellwoods that is coming up soon that I am writing and recording a song for.

Primarily we are focused on this tour coming up. It is a full North American tour in March and April. That is the next big thing. We will be touring with our friend Kate Maki and her band. They will be supporting us for all of the North American dates.

Waffles, Beer, and Music

Sat, 31 Jan 2009 08:14:20 GMT

Sex sells. And, in the music/film industry, most people are buying. Except at Paste magazine where co-founder and editor-in-chief Josh Jackson has decided to sell something a little different. As it turns out, people are buying that too. Jackson has helped create a music magazine that manages to stay above the fray of politics, sex and industry gossip. The result: Paste is one of the “fastest-growing independently published music magazines in the country.” Its refreshing take on music, film and books is something that satisfies both the true culture-aphile and the casual observer.

TDS: Actor (and skater) Jason Lee said that Paste is “so deliciously sweet, I often put it on my waffles in the morning instead of syrup.” Additionally, Paste has had great critical success, won numerous awards and has a large fan base. What is the main contributor to your accolades?

JACKSON: I’d like to think it has to do with us striving to be real and authentic and creating a magazine and website that we’d want to read instead of targeting a particular demographic or trying to achieve some level of coolness. The great thing is that from the time we start planning an issue until we send it to the printer, our goal is to make it better than the last one.

TDS: Paste has steered clear of gossip and politics while other trade publications seem to be featuring more of it. How do you manage to stay true to the mission of Paste and remain commercially competitive?

JACKSON: We’ve been fortunate that remaining true to our mission has seemed to result in us being commercially competitive. Our mission rang true with a lot of people. That said, no one’s ever gotten rich off of what we do.

TDS: Does Paste have a metric by which it determines what it features? If so can you explain your decision process?

JACKSON: There’s sort of an unarticulated graph each potential article falls on with an axis of how good the art we’re covering is and how good the story about the art potentially will be. So if we have the opportunity to let a writer we love shadow ?uestlove for three days, it scores high on both axis. If we have an opportunity for a phone conversation with Nickelback, it scores pretty low on both.

TDS: The tagline for Paste is "signs of life in music, film, and culture." Paste reviews video games. Can you explain how "signs of life" are found in video games?

JACKSON: Well, we’re not a high-brow magazine and I personally love video games. I love the storyline of Fallout 3, playing a character with moral choices who ultimately has to save the world by sacrificing himself in the end. There’s not a lot of thoughtful writing about video games out there. Most of the places you find game reviews spend most of their time dissecting the gameplay instead of weighing in on what a game says about our culture. I want Paste to be the place to go for meaningful essays about video games.

TDS: Given the advances in digital content (ease and speed of distribution), what does the future hold for magazine publishing?

JACKSON: Well, it seems everything is conspiring to kill magazines—the ridiculous inefficiencies of the newsstand, the rising paper costs, the latest dips in the advertising industry and, as you say, the advances in digital content. But I think there’s still a place for long-form journalism, and I don’t think it’s the Web. Our focus is constantly shifting online, but people come to our website for news, reviews, humor and quirky commentary.

TDS: In the online world traffic tends to be the ultimate goal. Do you feel quality over quantity can win in this scenario?

JACKSON: It’s tough. I realize it’s going to take discipline not to be ruled by what garners pageviews. We launched a “List of the Day”, and it immediately increased our traffic 25%. I think it’s a really fun feature, and I love coming up with them. But lists are not the heart and soul of Paste. We’ve got to keep offering thoughtful analysis along with Web candy, and we’ve got to make sure we’re imbuing even things like lists with our “Signs of Life” ethos.

TDS: What is Paste's philosophy with regard to online content?

JACKSON: Our website is meant to be comprehensive. Everything that’s in our magazine also makes it online. We want it to be a place where people can discover new music, film, books, TV shows, video games and weird art exhibits. The tools to offer video, streaming radio and interactive features allow us to do so much more than just with print.

TDS: Is digital distribution affecting the way songs are being written? Are full length albums dying?

JACKSON: I’ve always been more of an album guy than a singles guy, but album filler is dying. I like that listeners have the choice to buy an album or buy a single. As for how it affects the industry, I think radio-friendly pop acts are the ones that are suffering. But why should anyone have to buy the whole Leona Lewis album when they can get “Bleeding Love” for 99 cents?

TDS: You traveled around the world a lot and grew up overseas. How has this shaped your musical and cinematic preferences?

JACKSON: We published our first annual International Issue last year, and it was the most fun we’ve ever had putting a magazine together. I always want Paste to be introducing great music from all over the world to our mostly American audience.

TDS: A lot is said of "personal preference" when it comes to artistic tastes. How do you define "good" art?

JACKSON: It’s kind of like with porn: You know it when you see it. I’m a big believer in personal preference. I don’t think art is quantifiable, even though we assign a number to everything we review. Is Sufjan Stevens a better artist than Maroon 5? I certainly think so. But if you disagree that doesn’t make you wrong. That just highlights a difference in tastes. But our job as critics is to relate our encounter with a piece of art. So when we say, “The new Franz Ferdinand record is awful,” we follow it with the things we don’t like about the record. Other critics will disagree, but it’s in that conversation that we learn to appreciate the art more deeply.

TDS: You stated in a Paste editorial column once that people should be "wise consumers of culture." How does one go about doing this?

JACKSON: I think discernment is an underrated attribute. We can mindlessly just listen to what’s on the radio and what’s on TV. Or we can examine why we consume what we do and make a little effort to find out if there’s art out there that will be more satisfying—emotionally, spiritually, intellectually. The latter is more appealing to me.

TDS: Your blog is titled "High Gravity." Besides going well together, what do good beer and good cultural artifacts have in common?

JACKSON: Everything. Except maybe that the Belgians don’t make the best music, as far as I know.

TDS: Who are the top three artists (authors, musicians, filmmakers, etc.) that have impacted your outlook on life the most?

JACKSON: Authors: Flannery O’Connor/Walker Percy – It’s hard for me to separate the two as they both hit me at the same time in college and helped shape my view of the messiness of the human condition—the sin that needs redemption. Musicians: Vigilantes of Love/Mark Heard – One led me to the other and both raised the bar on what I look for in songwriting. Film: Vittorio De Sica’s The Bicycle Thief is probably my favorite film, but it always feels weird crediting a director for putting someone else’s story (in this case Luigi Bartolini’s novel adapted by Cesare Zavattini) on screen.

TDS: Is there anything new from Paste that you want to share?

JACKSON: Always. We launched a fun little non-partisan web app/Facebook app called Obamicon.me a few weeks ago that was something of an Internet sensation. And our first book—An Indie Rock Alphabet Book—just came out. Plus, I can’t say much about it, but we’ll be shooting our first TV pilot this spring.

The Rock-afire Explosion

Fri, 09 Jan 2009 12:59:29 GMT

If you grew up in the 80s, it was a magical time which introduced us to fashions like leg warmers, TV shows like the Golden Girls and, entertainment like Showbiz Pizza Place. For those of you who missed out on Showbiz, it was part game room, part pizza place, and part concert as it was home to The Rock-afire Explosion; an animatronics band of animals. Unfortunately, like the Golden Girls, Showbiz didn't make it much past the 80s.

Fast forward 20 years and The Rock-afire Explosion starts performing in YouTube videos playing songs like "Miss New Booty" and "Love in This Club". All of a sudden, The Rock-afire is back! Writer Brad Thomason and director Brett Whitcomb saw the videos and decided they needed to learn more about the resurgence of the band. The result is an upcoming documentary aptly titled, The Rock-afire Explosion.

If you are unfamiliar with The Rock-afire then you need to do two things before you continue reading: One, watch the trailer for the documentary by clicking here and two, click here to watch The Rock-afire Explosion perform Usher’s "Love in This Club".

TDS: Can you give us a brief overview of the documentary?

Whitcomb: It started out as a film about Chris Thrash who is half of the focus. He is this rural Alabama individual who got his hands on this Rock-afire Explosion, which is an animatronics band that played at Showbiz Pizza, which is like Chuck-e-Cheese. But, then Showbiz disappeared and just remained dormant in the memories of the "twenty/thirtysomething" age group.

Chris got a hold of one of the bands, put it in a shed in his back yard, and put videos on YouTube of the band performing popular songs. We revolve the film around him and his story: what he is doing with the band, what he is doing with it now and how he came to get it.

It is also about an individual named Aaron Fechter who was the creator of The Rock-afire Explosion.The success from Rock-afire made Aaron a multi-millionaire in the 80s; so our story tracks his rise and fall with the band. It deals with those 2 parallel stories.

TDS: Brad, as the writer, when you look at this you are not just seeing a guy who bought the old Showbiz band but a deeper underlying story, right?

Thomason: Yeah. Chris kind of represents this idea of childhood and eternal childhood and not letting go of the things you view as magical or interesting as a kid. Everyone says that when you become an adult you have to ascribe to these adult things. But his story says you have to keep a little bit of your childhood close and he does that.

There is also this different sort of sub-textual story with Aaron as well and his whole rise and fall. He is very concerned with bringing the Rock-afire back and he wants it to be popular again but the band is affecting the lives of these people in these small towns so it has already come back in its own way.

TDS: Is there value in holding on to the magic of childhood?

Thomason: I think it is imperative to hold on to that kind of stuff. The origins of creativity lie in the more instinctual childhood kind of elements. The things that come to us not after excessive thought but the things we experience when we are young and not thinking so much about things but just out there doing things and enjoying ourselves. And you have to keep those ideas close to remain creative and to keep life from becoming overbearing. Chris speaks to that in the film. He talks about having the show and how being able to enjoy it keeps the problems of his life from becoming too much.

Whitcomb: Chris balances it really well. That is key also, you can’t do that kind of stuff your entire life, you have to find balance in it all.

TDS: When the Rock-afire first appeared there wasn’t as much computer generated content or video around. So, seeing this “live” gorilla playing the organ was this amazing thing. With regard to the magic of childhood, how do you think a 7 year old is going to grow up and look back, have we lost some of “the magic” with computers?

Thomason: Yeah, personally, I think it is a bit of an imagination stifler. I think there is something special to seeing entertainment, in any form, in real space. I think it allows you to better relate to it, better connect to it and imagine yourself a part of it. I think imagination and creativity can be stifled a bit through the idea of a video screen or everything being related through computers because you aren’t touching anything, there is nothing real there. It all has this kind of filter. It causes a bit of a disconnect.

There are positive sides but, relating specifically to your question about the magic of childhood, there are going to be some elements of what is explored in this film that are going to be lost, or have been lost already, on younger kids.

Whitcomb: Also, you never leave your house. There is no getting in the car. There is no ritual of driving in the car, having to talk to somebody and having to interact with people in public. Video has taken that away.

Thomason: You have to get outside. You have to explore. You have to create and build. And seeing the Rock-afire in real time and space-we hadn’t seen it since we were kids—it was really amazing. In some ways it was really simple but in other ways it connects in a special way.

Whitcomb: Whenever I go to my old neighborhood from my childhood everything looks smaller, the streets more narrow. But, when we walked into Chris’ shed and saw the Rock-afire it was just as big as I remember from when I was a kid. It really blew me away. There was definitely some magical stuff going on from when I was younger. For whatever reason the Rock-afire still holds that.

TDS: So how big are the animals, when you are a kid they are humongous?

Whitcomb: I bet if Beach Bear stood up he might be 8 feet tall. They are huge. And they are always on a stage that is about 2 feet tall and then you have these 6 foot tall animatronic robots starting at you. They are huge, to anyone.

Thomason: They are so imposing in their faces. There is so much detail in everything about them. Even if they aren’t as big as they appeared when we were little they still have this very strong presence, because of the detail.

TDS: The film showcases some fans of the Rock-afire as well. Did it surprise you to find so many fans?

Whitcomb: Yeah, I didn’t know there was such a strong fan community. There are people like us who just went to Showbiz as a kid and liked it and remembered it and it was an awesome thing from our childhood. Then there are people that have tons of collectibles and they hold conventions called Cheese Conventions.

TDS: How was the collaboration process working together as a writer and director?

Whitcomb: Horrible. Just kidding.

Thomason: It has been good, we are both learning and feeding off of each other and are both playing a lot of roles. If I am the writer and Brett is the director we both end up becoming editors so we both end up writing and directing. It all kind of blends in a way and we always keep each other in check.

TDS: What is the one thing you want people to take away after seeing it?

Whitcomb: I love how nostalgic people get and how memories they have forgotten come flooding back when they watch the film. For me, that is exciting. To bring something back like this that was so prominent, especially for me as a kid, that is rewarding.

Thomason: It is important to me that when a person leaves the theater or turns off the DVD player that they have connected with the characters in the film in some way or another. I want people to have genuine relationships with people in the film; those can be negative at certain points and positive at certain points. But at the end of the day, whether or not you loved the character, I want you to have identified with, or at least have had a respect for the character. That is very important. And if we can do that with people who have never heard of The Rock-afire Explosion that is a big for me.

And, like Brett said, it is amazing to bring the band back and to have people walk out of the theater smiling because they have had a little piece of their childhood brought back. That this cinematic experience can accomplish that is what it's all about. We are bringing what is happening on the film, into the theater, and each person is getting a little individual piece of that.

TDS: Just for fun, what song would you love to see the Rock-afire do in the future?

Thomason: "Bohemian Rhapsody." I know this has come up on Aaron’s fan bid page. I keep hoping it will get picked.

TDS: What’s next for the film?

Whitcomb: We are just starting to let it out. If people go to the website and check screenings they can get an idea of where it is playing. Hopefully we can get it in enough places people won’t have to drive too far.

Stray Shopping Carts

Mon, 22 Dec 2008 07:06:30 GMT

You probably see stray shopping carts everywhere. The backs of parking lots, bus stops, even the occasional one on the side of the road. But, have you ever been curious as to how the carts got from their original place of occupation to their new home? How does a shopping cart make it from Target to the intersection of James St. and Fort Ave. all the way on the other side of town?

Artist Julian Montague began noticing shopping carts all around and devised a clever way by which to categorize them. He created a field guide (very much like the ones used for birds or other wildlife) and started to group similar carts based on how they were found. His classifications have appeared in art exhibits and in his 2006 book The Stray Shopping Carts of Eastern North America: A Guide to Field Identification.

TDS: Tell us a little bit about the Stray Shopping Cart Project and how it got started.

MONTAGUE: The project basically started sometime in 1999 when I was driving through an intersection in Buffalo (where I live). For some reason I noticed that there were shopping carts everywhere; crowded at bus stops, turned on their sides in front yards, etc. I thought there was something interesting to be done about this phenomenon. But I knew that if I simply took photographs of stray shopping carts, the images would only read as a sort of sad urban commentary that wouldn’t be much different than your average college kid’s social documentary photo project.

So, I decided that it would be more interesting to try and figure out how shopping carts moved by observing them in the way a naturalist might observe a wild animal. This approach led me to construct a taxonomy that could define the different situations in which a stray cart could be found. It started small (10 or so different categories), but as I went on and discovered more about stray carts, the “System of Identification” grew to include two classes and 33 sub-types with names like A/2 Plaza Drift, B/12 Simple Vandalism, B/13 Complex Vandalism, and B/19 In/As Refuse.

Early on in the project it became clear that what was interesting about it was the way that I could sensitize my viewers to the presence of stray carts. People would often tell me that after seeing my exhibits they started seeing shopping carts everywhere. By using an absurdly detailed vocabulary to describe a mundane phenomenon, I could, (on some level), make viewers see a part of the urban landscape that had previously been invisible to them. The project became less about shopping carts and more about the way in which scientific classification constructs meaning and imposes order through language.

At this point the project has been presented in a number of different ways including, numerous gallery shows, a web site, a book, and a set of outdoor sculptures.

TDS: Does the classification system actually work?

MONTAGUE: Yes, the “System” of stray shopping cart identification actually works. I conduct the “field work” in a very honest way. I never pose carts or set up situations, all of my photographs depict the scene as I found it. I write the text in the character of someone who takes this investigation very seriously. The project winds up being funny because of the humorless tone of the writing.

TDS: Have you noticed a relation to the economic standing of an area and the amount of stray carts?

MONTAGUE: Yes, but I should start by saying that stray cart activity happens everywhere, from very wealthy neighborhoods to very poor ones. I once found a cart in a canal, right next to the Royal Palace in Stockholm. The vandalism aspect of stray cart activity seems to be the same across the socio-economic spectrum. The impulse to throw a shopping cart into a body of water appears to be universal! But generally there is less cart activity in very well off neighborhoods because there is less of a need to use a cart to get your groceries home.

In the poorest neighborhoods you often have a situation where you are not allowed to leave the building with a cart, you can’t even take it into the parking lot. This, of course, lowers the number of stray carts in the area. The most activity occurs in the neighborhoods that are somewhere in between the two extremes. First ring suburbs have a tremendous amount of activity because they were built for car life, and now they have a growing population of lower income people who don’t have cars.

A lot of people associate shopping carts with the homeless, but I have found that the homeless only represent a tiny fraction of stray cart activity. Shopping carts are so useful for so many different things that they are constantly being appropriated and used by people from all levels of society.

TDS: What urban symbol is the antithesis to the stray cart?

MONTAGUE: I don’t know, part of the idea of this project is to take something that people use as a symbol of the perils of consumerism, urban decay, etc. and show them that it is far more complicated than they think. So on those grounds I have a hard time coming up with an opposing symbol.

TDS: Is there a shopping cart species you know exists but have not found? (Why or why not?)

MONTAGUE: At the moment I think the Stray Shopping Cart Identification System can basically account for most stray shopping cart situations, even ones I have not personally witnessed. The question is one of refinement, in the System there is Type B/2 Damaged which is fairly broad, but there are also B/10 Plow Crush, B/11 Train Damaged and B/20 Bulldozed, which are really just more specific categories of Damaged. It is entirely possible that I could find some new situation that deserves its own Type designation.

Right now if I found a cart in a tree and it got there because of a tornado, it would be classified under B/21 Naturalization (re-situated by natural forces). If, however, I found multiple examples, I might consider breaking that situation out into its own category.

TDS: If you had to "categorize" the project would it be art, satire, or statement? Or, a mix? (explain)

MONTAGUE: It is definitely an art project, but there is a bit of satire in it as well. I don’t think it is a statement, although I have no doubt that a lot of people like the project because they see it as speaking to a number of different social concerns. In my mind it’s an open ended exploration of peripheral urban space and an experiment in language, classification and perception. And it’s funny too.

TDS: What other projects do you have in the works?

MONTAGUE: My latest project is called To Know the Spiders; I showed it at Black & White Gallery in New York last Spring. The project uses some of the methodologies of the Stray Cart Project but in very different ways. I spent a year collecting spiders from the inside and outside of buildings. After collection I would look at the spider through a microscope and make a drawing of its face, the drawing would then become a template for a fabric banner. I would return to the point of collection, hang the banner where I found the spider and then photograph the whole scene.

Hanging the portrait of the spider was a way to mark the presence of the tiny occupants that live in peripheral architectural spaces. The banner also served as a kind of ironic memorial to the spider that had to be killed in order for me to see it well enough to draw it.