A floral designer branches out with a modern line of home furnishings.
Her spark
Jennifer McGarigle had only $2,000 in seed money when she opened a floral design studio out of her Venice, California, home in 1993. But she has steadily built a following around town with her sculptural arrangements, creating everything from a centerpiece striped with pink and brown flax leaves to a globe-shaped glass chandelier filled with rose florets. In 2004 McGarigle's company, Floral Art, moved into a former supermarket in Venice with a studio in back and boutique in front. Three years later, while gazing at a large projection screen showing time-lapse film of flowers blooming—an installation created for her shop—McGarigle came up with an idea to use flowers in another larger-than-life way. Soon she was sketching out a line of floral-inspired furniture.
Her process
McGarigle—whose lifelong romance with flowers began in the dreamy garden of her childhood home in Sonoma County, California—says she tries to design pieces that will enhance each flower's characteristics. (A calla lily stretches across a sleek bench; the circular back of a dining chair accentuates a ring of daisies.) Her Floral Art Home collection launched in 2009 with a chair featuring a photographic rose floating within its Lucite back. "It took almost two years to find a manufacturer," McGarigle says; nothing like the unusual piece existed on the market. Since then the line has expanded to include bookshelves, accent tables, and other home accessories.
Her philosophy
Floral Art Home's line also includes pieces like a credenza with poppy-covered removable panels (you can swap in new flowered panels as you like), as well as less-floral furnishings—like a chair with Venetian lace upholstery, which McGarigle likens to "sitting in your favorite dress." But however her sensibilities expand, McGarigle always returns to her roots. "I can't imagine anything more beautiful than fresh flowers," she says. "I want my furniture to help people experience them in a whole new way."
—Jessica Silvester
Photo: John Konkal
Next:
Dazzling, delicious confections
Confectioner Julia Baker's sugary creations are as dazzling as they are delicious.
In the kitchen of her Scottsdale, Arizona, headquarters, Julia Baker creates decadent truffles, chocolate bars, and cakes that delight both the eyes and the palate. Her chocolates—in flavors like Irish Creme and white chocolate raspberry—are often adorned with vibrant patterns; her wedding cakes are crafted to evoke couture gowns, resemble giant chocolate flowers, or mimic the colors of a dramatic sunset; and her innovative cake truffles are topped with elegant sugar flowers or seasonal flourishes like Easter-egg-shaped chocolates coated with edible glitter. Says Baker: "I want everything we make to have a 'girly-girl with class' sensibility." Because she believes truly beautiful chocolate starts with the right ingredients, she imports her fruit purees from France—where she attended the prestigious culinary school Le Cordon Bleu, graduating first in her class.
Her Spark
New flavors are occasioned by "whatever I'm craving at the moment," Baker says, whether that's the chocolate-hazelnut mousse she sampled in Monaco that inspired a praline confection, or the passion fruit filling that reminds her of her visit to Bora Bora. She also looks to the runway for ideas: "Fashion translates so well onto a cake," Baker explains. Her Valentino creation features a cascade of the designer's signature rosettes. Baker says the aesthetic of her patterned chocolates—often decorated with plaids, polka dots, and stripes—is drawn from the tongue-in-cheek guide The Official Preppy Handbook.
Her Story
Baker was inspired to pursue her dream of working with chocolate by an unlikely catalyst—a difficult marriage. In 2007 she found the strength that would help her begin to break free: "I thought, If I don't make a small step today, I'm going to be stuck in the same place next year, and the year after that." Within a year, Baker had secured a factory space and ended her marriage. She credits her passion for her work with changing her life—and keeping her going through the hard times. "For a small business to succeed, it has to be something that's really your love," she says. "It has to be something you can't live a day without doing." —Molly Fischer
Photo: John Hall Photography
Next:
Candles that smell good enough to eat
Candlemaker Meghan Cook translates the joys of food into heavenly scents.
Her Spark
Typically, the delicious aroma of food foretells an equally delicious meal, but with Meghan Cook's line of soy candles—many of which are food-inspired—the scent is the main course. "I've always loved mixing flavors," says (the aptly named) Cook. "As a kid I tried to make a cookie dough out of butter, brown sugar, hot cocoa mix, flour, and honey—my mom was nice enough to pretend to take a bite." In 2007 Cook decided to combine her interest in flavor with her love of all-natural beauty products and candles, and soon she was whipping up lip balms, lotions, and candles with scent combinations like cocoa and espresso, fig and vanilla, and grapefruit and orange. When some candles she'd created for a bridal shower were a hit, Cook made them her main focus. By last year her candle company, Sydney Hale Co. (named in honor of her grandfather Sidney, and husband, Christopher Hale Cook), had become so successful, she left her job to devote herself to the business full-time.
Her Process
When developing a new candle fragrance, Cook often works backward. "I come up with a name first—something that rolls off the tongue, like mint and geranium," she says. "If a combination sounds interesting to me, I want to bring the two elements together to see if they work." Once she hits on the perfect pairing, Cook experiments with aromatic oils until the scent is just right. ("I don't like overpowering smells," she says. "So I keep mine very subtle.") Then the actual candle-making—melting soy wax flakes, pouring the molten liquid, trimming wicks—begins, carried out start to finish in Cook's home kitchen. "I work in small batches," she says. "And after the candles finish cooling, I polish each one and hand-stamp each label. It's very much a labor of love."
Her Philosophy
"I like to provide materials that can be reused," Cook says. Sydney Hale Co.'s candles—available in 12 fragrances—come in a 14-ounce tumbler that becomes a drinking glass after the candle is finished. But her primary goal will always be to offer a sensory experience: "I want my candles to add to the beauty of your home but also serve as aromatherapy." They might just awaken your appetite, too.
— Rachel Bertsche
Photo: Stephen Hansen
Next:
The woman who knits for the stars
A Daily Show staffer knits sumptuous hats, scarves, and "gadget cozies" in her spare time (and yes, boss Jon Stewart is a fan).
Her Cathartic Hobby
When she was in third grade, Beth Shorr finger-knit a black and mint green yarmulke for her father—and was delighted when he wore it to temple that year for the holidays. But it wasn't until she landed a job assisting a producer at Comedy Central's The Daily Show that she started knitting regularly. When Shorr and a coworker took a local class, she discovered that needles and yarn helped her unwind in the evenings; soon she was experimenting with vibrant scarves and hats. Then, in 2006, Shorr's father passed away from cancer. "I found the yarmulke I'd made for him, and it was a source of inspiration," she says. Knitting became less a casual hobby than a way to grieve. "I made gifts for family and friends, and they started encouraging me to sell them," Shorr says.
Her Support Staff
A year later, Shorr opened her shop, BShorr Handmade, on the crafts Web site Etsy. Her colleagues at The Daily Show—where Shorr is now a talent coordinator and the assistant to host Jon Stewart—were early supporters, offering to model her hats, berets, and scarves for the site. Some of her creations are named after her coworkers (the Chabotski hat honors production prop master Justin Chabot, who needed a hat with a brim to wear skiing). Shorr's hectic days fetching coffee for celebrities and ushering Stewart to meetings even inspired her to knit a cell phone case she calls a Gadget Cozy, with a wrist loop to keep her BlackBerry close (and her hands free) at the office.
Her Double Life
Shorr knits late into the evening, usually in the company of her two cats. "Sometimes my sleep suffers when I try to balance my worlds," she says. "But I like having a social work environment and then quiet time at home to knit." BShorr Handmade is a hit at local craft shows, and last year Mad Men star January Jones was photographed wearing Shorr's circle scarf. Still, her Daily Show colleagues remain her biggest fans. Says Stewart, the proud owner of a one-of-a-kind black BShorr hat, "Somehow Beth assessed my cranial weaknesses and was able to design and knit me a perfect kepi, one that didn't make me look like an eggplant wearing a sock. Girl's got skills."—Arianna Davis
Photo: Ben Goldstein
Next:
Starting a gourmet line of aprons
Ashley Schoenith cooked up a delightful apron business with her 88-year-old grandmother.
Her Partner
Growing up in Tallahassee, Florida, Ashley Leckey Schoenith logged hours in her grandmother Cecile Marcoux's kitchen, helping bake cookies and gobbling up Marcoux's homemade waffles topped with ice milk (ice cream made with milk instead of cream). When Schoenith moved to Atlanta after college, she missed her grandmother so much that she floated an idea: Why not start a side business together? "Aprons were an obvious choice, because we'd spent so much of our lives in the kitchen," explains Schoenith. Marcoux, a master seamstress, readily agreed.
Her Start
With $5,000 from her family to cover start-up costs, Schoenith began scouring fabric stores for ideas. The women agreed on a simple, flatteringly neutral palette (Audrey Hepburn was an inspiration). On weekends Schoenith drove four hours to spend long afternoons sewing and sketching with her grandmother, all while chatting about family history (a favorite story of Marcoux's involved an uncle who traded his small island for a jug of whiskey). "I was never thinking, 'How am I going to make this a booming empire?'" Schoenith says. "It was more about being together."
Her Success
IceMilk Aprons (IceMilkAprons.com) debuted in 2008—but for Schoenith, the experience was bittersweet. Months earlier, as she prepared to ship handmade samples off for manufacturing, her grandmother passed away (she'd been diagnosed with cancer shortly after they started the business). Marcoux's death only strengthened Schoenith's resolve: Now she sketches in the evenings after work, and has sold more than 5,000 aprons. In 2010 she turned a profit. Recently, she even rolled out a kids' line, with her new baby boy in mind. "I can't wait to cook with my kids by my side," she says. "We'll use my grandmother's measuring cups—the same ones we used when I was little." —Nicole Frehsee
Photo: Heidi Geldhauser
Next: A clothing designer who designs earthy and elegant terrariums
A clothing designer starts a thriving side business by creating earthy and elegant terrariums.
The Goods
Katie Goldman Macdonald thinks of her work as "painting with plants." Wearing gloves and brandishing extralong tweezers or chopsticks, she uses "ship-in-a-bottle precision" to make dreamlike miniature landscapes of succulent, desert-friendly greenery inside glass orbs handblown by West Oakland, California, artist Evan Kolker. Her terrariums—which range from softball-size "little hanging possums" to larger "armadillos"—overflow with pink-tipped echeveria rosettes, powdery silver moonstone plants, and hardy green kalanchoe. "Each stem and blossom is magnified by the curve of the glass," explains Macdonald, who includes tweezers and an instruction manual with each terrarium (they require only indirect light and watering every three weeks). That way, owners can "give it a makeover once in a while," she says.
The Spark
Macdonald—a designer for the clothing brand Old Navy who spent her childhood going on wildflower classification walks with her father, a musician and mushroom expert—was transfixed when a friend gave her a book about terrariums a few years ago. Published in 1974, the book recounted terrariums' resurgence as a type of artful, DIY home decor of that era, and inspired Macdonald to experiment with thrift-store fishbowls and the succulents she kept in her apartment. Soon she enlisted Kolker to blow elegant glass spheres, giving her creations an airy, luminescent feel. At an Old Navy employee craft fair last December, Macdonald's terrariums were a hit. She now sells them at stores around San Francisco (and accepts local commissions at botanyfactory.com).
The Process
Macdonald works at night and on the weekends out of her sunny apartment, which has become "an operating room for plants," she says—stocked with mason jars full of soil and the charcoal she uses for homespun drainage. Next she hopes to collaborate with other artists on a table with a built-in terrarium and possibly a terrarium lamp; she also teaches a Bluegrass & Botany class at a local store with her father (he plays the banjo, she talks cacti and organic soil). "We live in high-rise apartments; we work a million hours," she says. "People want a connection to the natural world. Terrariums are a way to bring it inside." —Brook Wilkinson
Photo: Brian Fong
Next: The making of a handmade wallpaper designer
Katie Deedy's beguiling wallpaper evokes nature, history, fashion and a her own magical childhood.
Her Inspiration
When Katie Deedy was growing up in Georgia, she and her mother—a children's book author—liked to sneak into an abandoned train depot and old, empty houses on the edge of town where the elder Deedy would delight her daughter with folktales. Her mother's passion for stories inspired Deedy's own: For years she filled notebooks with landscapes of her imaginary worlds. Later, working as a freelance illustrator for publishers and ad firms in New York, Deedy struggled to find a way to make a living from her own drawings—until the day she turned a sketch of a girl in a polka-dot dress being stalked by a monster into a repeating pattern in Adobe Illustrator, just for fun. "Suddenly, my eyeballs went, whoa," she recalls. "And I thought, wallpaper."
Her Goods
Deedy saved money working as a bartender and barista, and in 2008 launched her handmade wallpaper company, Grow House Grow, out of her Brooklyn apartment. From the start, storytelling infused her designs: "Staring at a blank piece of paper is really daunting," she explains. "But when I have a story that interests me, it helps me draw that first lie." A playful print called "Ms. Ward"—part of a "forgotten female scientists" collection—pays tribute to a 19th century naturalist (it features Georgian dresses accessorized with a butterfly fan and glowworm stole). "Captain Smith" draws inspiration from the last hours of the veteran seaman who helmed the Titanic (a tentacled "crew" floats amid abstract ship's wheels—or are they sea sponges?). A dreamy pattern of tree trunks with secret doors references Deedy's own childhood adventures in the woods. "There are too many interesting stories," says Deedy, "and not enough time to explore them all!"
Her Process
Deedy sketches in pen and ink, with watercolors, or on her computer before sending her patterns to be hand-silk-screened by a mom-and-pop shop in upstate New York. "In my first year, I made one sale," she recalls. But she kept exhibiting at design shows, and eventually the retail chain Anthropologie called. In 2010 Saks Fifth Avenue wallpapered the windows of its Manhattan flagship store with Deedy's creations. Now she designs a new collection every year, and posts "curiosities and weird stuff" she discovers in her process on her blog at GrowHouseGrow.com. "Research is the fun part for me," Deedy says. "I'm pretty indulgent with myself about how much time I take." —Andrea Lynch
Next: A California zoologist creates flights of fancy
A California artist—and amateur zoologist—creates meticulous flights of fancy.
Her craft "I've always been drawn to animals," says Aimée Baldwin, who calls her lifelike paper bird sculptures "vegan taxidermy." She often models her passerines, raptors, and shorebirds on photos: "Amateur shots are great," Baldwin says, "because they tell me things about anatomy that a portrait can't." But she's also a birdwatcher, since seeing a subject in motion reveals traits not discernible in 2-D—like the way a night heron extends its neck when hunting, or the grace of a violet-green swallow in midflight.
Her journey Baldwin confesses to an obsessive love of paper, which she indulges at the Berkeley shop Castle in the Air—a wonderland of rare craft supplies and handmade wares. "They agreed to stock my favorite German crepe paper if I used it to make things they could sell," she says. Long fascinated by the minutiae of zoological classifications and species variations (she'd once considered a career in the sciences), Baldwin trained her focus on sculpting birds, she says, "because there's just a huge variety to choose from." Her avian artworks are a big hit at Castle in the Air (and on her Web site, vegantaxidermy.com). Lately, Baldwin has grown excited about the unusual tropical birds of Hawaii: "A species there has a uniquely shaped beak that coevolved to pollinate specific flowers," she says.
Her technique After drafting numerous sketches, Baldwin carves each bird's torso from rigid foam before gluing dozens of crepe paper feathers in place. (The only prefabricated parts of her sculptures are the glass eyes.) This painstaking process dovetails with Baldwin's creative philosophy: "I want to make things that exist outside of our 'cheap and now' culture—things that won't be discarded in a few weeks when people tire of them." She believes her customers appreciate the loving attention she pays to each species, no matter how humble. "I like that people can see my work and say, 'Hey, that's the bird I saw in my backyard."
—Laura Kiniry
Photo: Tue Nam
Next: A former sales exec restores Savannah homes to their former glory
How the South's most charming city sparked a renovator's passion for the past.
Her inspiration When Chicagoan Tammy Jo Long visited Savannah ten years ago, she was delighted by its fountain-filled parks, corner cafés—and grand architecture. Long had always been a design aficionado, but the Italianate and Victorian homes she encountered in Savannah became "an obsession," she says. "I saw a mansion with enormous cornices and cast-iron window surrounds, and I was hooked." So hooked, in fact, that she decided to buy a second home there, closing the deal on her next visit.
Her learning curve Long was determined to restore her new house to its original glory. Though she'd remodeled a few kitchens and bathrooms over the years, a historically accurate renovation that did justice to the Savannah architecture she loved was daunting. But the all-nighters spent poring over floor plans and scouring eBay for doorknobs paid off: Every detail of the home—from the crown moldings to the brass finger pulls—is as it was in the 1800s. Yearning to share her handiwork, Long turned the home into a vacation rental. Soon, enchanted out-of-towners were eagerly booking their stays.
Her business model In 2003 Long quit her job in sales and bought and restored four more homes, traveling between Savannah and Chicago (where she and her ex-husband share custody of their 9-year-old son). "Some of the properties had been vacant for 20 years," Long says. "They had rats you could put a saddle on." They're now certified landmarks—with 14-foot ceilings, elaborate plaster medallions, and sweeping staircases—and can be experienced firsthand through Luxury Living Savannah, Long's vacation rental company. As much as she adores re-creating these relics, Long loves sharing them even more. "People get to stay in a piece of history," she says. "Women get to be Scarlett O'Hara for the weekend. I take great pleasure in that."
—Rachel Bertsche
Photo: Richard Leo Johnson
Next: Former models custom-cobble authentic Italian sandals in Miami
Former models Tove Nord and Terri Coleman custom-cobble authentic Italian sandals in Miami Beach.
Their start When Tove Nord was an 18-year-old runway model, she wandered into a tiny shoe shop on Capri, the Italian island where she was vacationing, and saw a cobbler named Vincenzo Faiella hammering away at a pair of sturdy yet feminine leather gladiator sandals. Nord ordered three pairs—and was amazed when they outlasted her designer styles by years. She thought, "Why not bring handcrafted Italian sandals to America?" Seventeen years later, she mentioned the idea to her friend Terri Coleman, another model looking for new adventures. The women tracked down Faiella and convinced him to train them as cobblers. After four months, they returned home to open the Miami Beach boutique Tuccia di Capri in 2007. "As models we watched others be creative," says Coleman. "Now we're the designers."
Their craft "On Capri, legend has it that the Roman emperor Tiberius started the strappy-sandal trend," says Nord. Because cobbling is back-straining labor—leather straps are stretched, braided, then hammered into the soles—it traditionally has been a men's profession passed down through families. "Everyone is surprised when we sit down at our tool bench," says Coleman. "But we love every minute of it." She and Nord can cobble a custom pair of sandals in about 30 minutes.
Their sandals The duo offers traditional Italian toe-ring and T-strap styles, updated seasonally with vibrant colors, animal prints, and antique appliqués. "Whenever we see anything interesting, from an old Elizabeth Taylor movie to wicker patio furniture, we'll say, 'I see a sandal there!'" says Nord. Adds Coleman, "We hope that customers will come to our shop one day and say, 'I bought these sandals 20 years ago, and I'm still wearing them.'" (Sandals start at $178; tucciadicapri.com.)
—Arianna Davis
Photo: Jeffery Salter
Next: An artist uses paper and glue to create intricate illustrations
A Russian-born artist resurrects a centuries-old art form for her delightfully intricate paper illustrations.
Her technique
Yulia Brodskaya uses two simple materials—paper and glue—to make lush, vibrant, so-three-dimensional-they're-practically-hallucinogenic "papergraphics." Once called quilling, this style of intricate paper filigree is believed to have been used by nuns and monks during the Renaissance to adorn religious objects. Brodskaya's modern take on the practice has helped her build an impressive list of clients in just a few short years, from Target to Hermès to this magazine (her work served as a motif for O's tenth anniversary issue, May 2010).
Her start
After earning a master's degree in graphic design in the UK, Brodskaya abandoned the computer programs she'd been trained on in favor of a simpler artistic tool: her hands. Trying to drum up work as an illustrator, she created a brochure for prospective clients; on the front, she used a technique she'd seen in an old textbook in her native Russia. Gluing the edges of thin strips of paper to a page, she wrote her name in big red block letters, filling each with lively strands of white that curled around each other like smoke, or tiny, tangled tree roots. The letters teemed with life, exploding from their borders. Soon Brodskaya had a commission from The Guardian, the British newspaper, to design the cover of its 2008 holiday supplement. "I've never been out of work since," she says.
Her passion
Brodskaya's studio, in the home she shares outside London with her husband and their infant daughter, is stacked with "piles of paper," she says, all arranged by color and cut into strips about one centimeter wide. "I'm passionate about what I do," she says. "I can happily spend hours gluing and listening to audiobooks" (a recent favorite: The Time Traveler's Wife). Her international roster of clients keeps her busy, but she'd eventually like to apply her signature technique to more personal work, not for an ad campaign or magazine but for "live" viewing in a gallery. "People have only seen pictures of my illustrations," she says. "It would be interesting to see how they react to the actual physical thing."
—Meredith Bryan
Photos: Michael Leznik
Next: A breast cancer survivor finds healing plants
Wendy Hollender survived her breast cancer treatment by creating one beautiful bouquet at a time.
Her diagnosis
One morning in 1998, Wendy Hollender, a successful textile designer in Manhattan, woke up and noticed that the lump in her breast—the one her gynecologist had told her not to worry about—was visibly larger. A biopsy confirmed it was cancer. At the time, Hollender was taking a botanical drawing course, something she had wanted to do for years, and she found herself scheduling her doctors' appointments around the class. "I needed to focus on something else," she says.
Her recovery
Over the next year, as Hollender went through five surgeries and chemotherapy, she filled sketchbook after sketchbook. There was always a fresh flower cutting at her bedside. "When I was drawing, I could concentrate on the colors of petals, or the delicate shape of a leaf," she explains. "I wasn't thinking, 'Okay, right now they're pumping my body full of poison.'"
Her work
With a clean bill of health, Hollender left her textile design firm to become a full-time botanical artist. She produces luscious pencil and watercolor renderings, some of which are currently on display at the New York Botanical Garden. Hollender says she finds particular beauty in nature's patterns, like the repeating scales of an acorn: "Nature isn't chaotic; it's predictable, which somehow feels reassuring."
Her renewal
Last year Hollender moved to a four-acre farm in upstate New York, where she's surrounded by her subjects. Her two grown kids helped her convert the property's stables into a sun-filled studio, where she teaches workshops and hosts potlucks for her neighbors. But most often, you can find the artist on a stool in her garden, at work on a children's book about a mouse that made its home in one of her rutabagas.
—Yvonne Durant
A clematis flower, from the buttercup family.
Next: A onetime ballerina steps into the new spotlight as a jewelry designer
Onetime ballerina Jamie Wolf steps into a new spotlight as a jewelry designer.
The Goods: Jamie Wolf's gold jewelry is handmade in Manhattan, where she spent ten years as a member of the New York City Ballet. "In dance, the most minute details—how you arrange your hands or point your toes—make up the performance. The same is true in jewelry," says Wolf, who favors intricate engraved patterns and brilliant-cut stones. "I focus on balance: a piece that feels feminine but not saccharine, luxurious but not so precious that you're afraid to wear it."
The Switch: At NYCB, Wolf faced long stretches of downtime between seasons. "It was important for me to have something else to get excited about," she says. At first Wolf was simply stringing beads and wrapping wire as a hobby—but in 2003 she managed to land a meeting with a buyer at Barneys New York. "Once I had the attention of a store, I had to go for it. And ballet can be so exhausting that it's smarter to leave while you still love it."
The Plunge: "When I started, every day was a fire drill," recalls Wolf, who counts Julia Roberts and Halle Berry among her customers. "I was completely naive. But when you're totally present and don't have expectations beyond trying your best, you can't get wound up in fear and anxiety. Now I know what to do and when to do it." Next up: a spring line featuring white and cognac diamonds.
The Philosophy: "Women want to create an individual style," Wolf says. "I'll make maybe seven pairs of each earring, or ten of each necklace, then ship them to different cities. I don't want my clients seeing themselves coming and going."
—Brooke Kosofsky Glassberg
From top: Teardrop earrings in 18kt gold with cognac diamonds ($3,890); Bisou ring with white moonstone and diamonds ($3,400); Circular earrings in 18kt gold with amethyst ($1,650); Stacking bangles in 18kt gold set with diamonds ($990 to $2,800); Woven hoop earrings with rose-cut diamonds ($5,900).
Next: A painter who makes a new still life in oil, every single day
On painter Abbey Ryan's to-do list: walk the dog, fold the laundry, create a gorgeous still life from scratch.
Her Practice:
Since 2007 Abbey Ryan has painted a still life in oils every day, auctioning many on eBay and posting each at abbeyryan.com. "I think my interest in ritual comes from playing basketball for so many years," says the Philadelphia-based artist. "Being an athlete is all about practice and dedication." Her main subject is food: raspberries, sushi, garlic cloves, powdered doughnuts, asparagus.... "I'm drawn to flaws," Ryan says. "I'll pick the bell pepper that leans awkwardly to the side."
Her Background:
Before she turned her attention to orange peels and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Ryan earned a degree in medical and scientific illustration; her subjects have included a beetle and a beaver jawbone. "With illustration, the artist directs the viewer," she says, "but painting lets me capture a moment without telling you what to think about it."
Her Other Talents:
Ryan also makes delicate abstract works by layering thin washes of ink or tea on paper. "One of these ink pieces can take months to complete, because I keep adding layers," she explains. "So there's a yin and yang between the slowly evolving works in ink and the spontaneous daily oil paintings."
Her New Project:
Inspired by the Dutch masters she saw on a recent trip to Italy, Ryan is working with a ceramist to design pottery—specifically so she can make paintings of it. "A handmade object is enthralling because it has its own presence and energy," she says. "And I love collaborating with a fellow artist—it forces me to think differently. It's a way to make the act of creating new again."
—Katie Arnold-Ratliff
Photo: Courtesy of Abbey Ryan
Next: A self-taught photographer who's winning awards—before turning 18
Self-taught photographer Chrissie White has won accolades, an online following, prestigious commissions—and all before her 18th birthday.
The Spark: Inspired by the photo-sharing Web site Flickr, Chrissie White first picked up a camera three years ago, at age 14. She began with simple snapshots ("I took a lot of pictures of my cat") but soon earned an online following, a spot in a group exhibition at the Seattle Art Museum, and commissions for family portraits and weddings. (She assures O that she takes photographs only after finishing her homework.)
The Spirit: Many of White's pictures combine playful whimsy with the sinister undercurrents of a Brothers Grimm tale (as in her enigmatic image of a little girl crouching in the woods and wearing a paper wolf costume). She won a contest sponsored by American Photo magazine for her depiction of Peter Pan's Wendy flying toward her bedroom window (above). Amazingly, White collaborated with a friend, Clara Pathé, to conjure this fairy-tale vision without the help of Photoshop. "I jumped onto the bed while Clara took the shots, and this is the one that worked," White explains.
The Stories: For White, who lives in a woodsy Seattle suburb, an idea often strikes on an amble to, say, a barren beach or a pond's mossy shore. "I find places when I'm out walking or driving, and I invent stories about what could happen there," she says. "I think of the pictures as movie cels—a moment in a narrative." No surprise, then, that White hopes to direct a short film next, once her applications to art schools in New York are in. "I want to go everywhere and see everything," she declares. "I want to photograph as many things as I can." —Katie Arnold-Ratliff
Photo: Chrissie White and Clara Pathé
Next: Meet the woman who finds inspiration for hand-crafted jewelry in unusual places
Zimbabwe, Hawaii, the doctor's office—Kevia Jeffrey-West can spot an idea for her handcrafted jewelry line wherever she goes.
The goods: Inspired by ancient civilizations and the natural world (honeycombs, tree bark, oyster shells), Kevia Jeffrey-West uses semiprecious stones, intricate metalwork, and reclaimed wood in her fine jewelry line (kevia.biz).
The spark: "It all started when I walked into a shop in Harare," says Jeffrey-West, who did a study-abroad program in Zimbabwe in the late '90s. She bought local gems, sketched some ideas, and asked jewelers to execute her designs; by watching them, she learned to hammer and solder silver.
The switch: Back in the United States and four years into a PhD in education, Jeffrey-West was still crafting jewelry as a hobby. "A classmate asked me to make a necklace like the one I was wearing, and I thought, 'Are you sure?'" she recalls with a laugh. "It never occurred to me that I could sell my stuff."
The latest: She has recently found ideas in Hawaii (the swirls of bubbling gold and silver in her Magma collection are modeled on melting lava) and closer to home. "At the doctor's office, I saw an anatomical drawing of inner ear tissue and thought, 'That texture is fantastic!'" — Brooke Kosofsky Glassberg
From top: Lotus-shaped honeycomb earrings in 22kt-gold vermeil with flush-set cubic zirconia ($188).; Teardrop pendant in 22kt-gold vermeil with flush-set cubic zirconia on 14kt-gold-filled chain ($238).; Stacking bangle in hand-textured 22kt-gold vermeil ($100).; Multichain necklace with citrine, blue topaz, and clear crystal quartz stones ($375).; Handmade ring with pounded finish and flush-set cubic zirconia ($188).; Rococo lace ring with blue topaz rose-cut stone ($175).
Next: An unlikely friendship leads to a better life for women artisans in troubled regions of the world
Born out of an unlikely friendship, A Peace Treaty delivers handcrafted high style—and a better life for women artisans in troubled regions of the world.
The Goods: Handmade accessories from all over the globe (available at APeaceTreaty.com): silk scarves crafted by Afghani widows, cashmere wraps from a women's co-op in Nepal, jewelry hammered by Kurdish refugees in Turkey...
The Mission: To provide steady work at above-fair-trade rates for disadvantaged artisans (mostly women).
The Spark: Dana Arbib (a Libyan Jew) met Farah Malik (a Pakistani Muslim) at a wedding in Italy in 2007 and hit it off; back home in New York City, they brainstormed ways to become their own bosses. Starting in Pakistan, Malik says, "we worked with family-operated, backyard cottage industries, bringing in looms and thread to get the artisans back up and running."
The Hurdles: In Pakistan, Malik got malaria; in war-ravaged Afghanistan, they had to arrange a fabric airlift. Creative challenges crop up, too. "To achieve a faded black scarf, we told the Afghani women, 'Imagine your burka has been out in the desert sun for 45 days,'" Malik recalls. "It took eight tries to get it, because they couldn't comprehend why anyone would want that!"
The Spirit: "Just as the two of us have transcended our political and cultural differences, A Peace Treaty tries to transcend obstacles to create something beautiful," Arbib says. "For us, fashion is about knowing whose hands have created the piece, where it came from, and what that took." — Brooke Kosofsky Glassberg
The Scarves
Left: Alpaca-and-silk blend in rich fall colors by indigenous Bolivian knitters ($320).
Middle: Dip-dyed silk from a Pakistani co-op of widows and disabled women ($125).
Right: Cotton scarves from Kabul—look for the artisan's name stitched in one corner ($290).
Next: At the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market, every handicraft tells a story
At the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market, every handicraft tells a story.
In a remote desert village in Pakistan, a collective of women—many of them widowed, most illiterate—stitch geometric-patterned quilts to sell, and use the proceeds to send their children to school. Members of a women's cooperative in Zambia are sharing a new plow and some goats thanks to the money they've earned from their sturdy, handwoven baskets. Sales of vibrant beaded necklaces helped indigenous women in Ecuador start a microloan service. Of the thousands of treasures on offer at the annual Santa Fe International Folk Art Market, many are created by women devoting traditional handicraft skills to a heroic task: raising themselves or their communities out of poverty.
Bringing together some 170 artisans (more than half of them women) from 52 countries, the market unfolds on Santa Fe's Museum Hill, amid panoramic views of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Prices range from $5 into the tens of thousands, with 90 percent of the proceeds going home with the artists. The work includes exquisite embroidered bedspreads and shawls from India (by the all-women collective Self Help Enterprise), silk-and-cotton rugs and wall hangings made in Laos according to 1,200-year-old traditions, and stunning baskets woven and dyed with organic materials—like leaves, berries, and herbs—from the Darien Rainforest in Panama.
"Right now there's a hunger in our culture to move away from the mass-produced and toward the handmade, to feel that sense of connection to the things around us," says Charlene Cerny, executive director of the market. "Knowing the story behind the object is like having the bragging rights to it." If you can't get to Santa Fe go to FolkArtMarket.org to browse the handicrafts available for order online. — Jessica Winter
Printed from Oprah.com on Saturday, May 26, 2012
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