https://nobusinessmagazine.com No Business Magazine Fri, 08 Oct 2021 15:22:28 +0000 https://nobusinessmagazine.com en https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Presence-Manifest Fri, 08 Oct 2021 15:22:28 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Presence-Manifest Issue 3: Presence Manifest Presence Manifest, the third issue of No Biz Mag, captures the processes and ideation behind bringing sculptural works to life. The issue engages artists and thinkers whose works manifest or highlight sculptural presence, either through a one- or multi-dimensional approach and layered conception. Presence Manifest will explore sculptural relationships with ecology, memory, language, movement, place-making, documentation, material and innovation. In this issue, we will also look at the creation of space and its im/permanence through the lens of gardening, spatial design, and furniture-making. No Business Magazine is connecting with the following artists for conversations, interviews, and writings: Adrianus Kundert, Anders Hamilton, Angie Seykora, Anton Alvarez, Erin Smith, Gustav Hamilton, Inkpa Mani, Josh Johnson, Krista Clark, Letha Wilson, Maia Ruth Lee, Matthew Pevear, Melanie McLain, Amy Jarding, Marsha Mack, Jonathan Orozco, Hanna Thompson, Eli Show, Angela Zonunpari, and a few more folks. (Delayed) <img width="1080" height="1080" width_o="1080" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9a458447946bdcd7fe405d62dd9c1c65515b2fdd532be4e60d478788dc926b08/Artboard-11-RGB.jpg" data-mid="128892340" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9a458447946bdcd7fe405d62dd9c1c65515b2fdd532be4e60d478788dc926b08/Artboard-11-RGB.jpg" /> <img width="1080" height="1080" width_o="1080" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/53e2f09e2be990b7cc57a69f44c3077efbce9a5e9fcee3875f3928fb180e7d75/Artboard-10-RGB.jpg" data-mid="128892339" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/53e2f09e2be990b7cc57a69f44c3077efbce9a5e9fcee3875f3928fb180e7d75/Artboard-10-RGB.jpg" /> https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Power-Colors-1 Thu, 18 Jun 2020 15:38:22 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Power-Colors-1 Issue 2: Power Colors Art-making embodies so much of an artist’s history, personality and aesthetic. And, as a viewer, we often project our experiences and understanding of things onto an artist’s work. Power Colors is a tiny intersection of individual histories, perception, and manifestation of personalities. Our intention with the second issue of No Business Magazine is to present artists and works that push us to look beyond their surface value and survey how / why they find power within color. This issue wouldn’t have been possible without our backers on Kickstarter and the artists in the issue sharing their time with us—we are eternally grateful! See our Kickstarter campaign here. ︎︎︎ STOCKISTS (SOLD OUT) August&nbsp;2020 <img width="2251" height="2251" width_o="2251" height_o="2251" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2f56ef6dfd78087364662cf28e362b37afbd01eada63703a87c60842ccd82540/NoBiz-Web-PC.jpg" data-mid="81048111" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2f56ef6dfd78087364662cf28e362b37afbd01eada63703a87c60842ccd82540/NoBiz-Web-PC.jpg" /> https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Identity Tue, 14 Apr 2020 15:31:37 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Identity Issue 1: IdentityOur first issue explores identity in various forms and concepts — how identity has formed art and art choices, how choices and art has impacted identity, or how an identity is formed and/or presented through concepts in art. The people featured in Identity touch on very different things, from photographing a Burmese refugee community in Zomi Town aka Tulsa, a popular American sport influencing art practices, exploring identity as an outsider, looking at hybrid identity through art, how fan fiction manifests itself in art, to finding community within a subculture.&nbsp; ︎READ: No Biz Mag—Identity︎ SOLD OUT June 2019 <img width="1081" height="1081" width_o="1081" height_o="1081" data-src="//freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f152b45f8637c16b515dba2523d7c846d2d209aa3c29b632e1f2cc8f208ab0c3/NOBIZ_3-2.jpg" data-mid="66937246" border="0" style="width: 480.2781009674072px; height: 480.2781009674072px; display: none;"> <img width="4500" height="4501" width_o="4500" height_o="4501" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f153eb8dc0608276458984b7d6669e9e2f99f3b976490bcea82b7ea72864eb49/Artboard-3.png" data-mid="66937745" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f153eb8dc0608276458984b7d6669e9e2f99f3b976490bcea82b7ea72864eb49/Artboard-3.png" /> https://nobusinessmagazine.com/About Tue, 14 Apr 2020 21:21:59 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/About About No Business Magazine is a collaborative project by Angela Zonunpari, Hanna Peterson, Amy Jarding, Eli Show, and other artists across the country. <img width="2048" height="1694" width_o="2048" height_o="1694" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b30a0876c6f1ff8f678a050adf3c35d914e8592e58c9ebd7bf3febe826c92a06/66699776_10162268273460106_6656745270627270656_o.jpg" data-mid="66987132" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b30a0876c6f1ff8f678a050adf3c35d914e8592e58c9ebd7bf3febe826c92a06/66699776_10162268273460106_6656745270627270656_o.jpg" /> <img width="2084" height="1053" width_o="2084" height_o="1053" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0b9d3cd9eff8673bfbeea2495b7d99f7c5af2a3483baf444e2537168d0013335/Asset-3.png" data-mid="66986976" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0b9d3cd9eff8673bfbeea2495b7d99f7c5af2a3483baf444e2537168d0013335/Asset-3.png" /> <img width="748" height="1180" width_o="748" height_o="1180" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/631a64cfec06e6075b74a8f163b01ea24ad058d379202842529f03aa94838d0c/Asset-6.png" data-mid="66986979" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/748/i/631a64cfec06e6075b74a8f163b01ea24ad058d379202842529f03aa94838d0c/Asset-6.png" /> Intent We have visited at length to see what form this publication could take and we've fulfilled a lot of those goals with our first issue, Identity. We’re committed to making something memorable with every issue of No Business Magazine, as well as the public programming and engagement we organize in our community. We want to encourage people to slow down and interact with the printed matter, but also empower them to have more honest conversations about art and culture, outside of art events. We want to learn about the ideas behind bodies of work. We want to lift up the ideas behind art, which in turn raises the intrinsic value of art and artists. So, no business, just broad themes we’d visit with each issue. The themes help us narrow down and zero in on artists, art practices and concepts we want to visit as No Business Magazine. Our curation of artists and concepts in each issue spans the United States, and we are continuously working to connect with people from around the world as well. We can't exist or thrive in silos, and we whole-heartedly embrace intersectionality, hybridity, and fluidity in people, ideas, and practice. Our design, editorial guidelines and concept for No Business Magazine follow a similar path of how we approached Sound + Color. We’re intentional in what we’re doing, the people we’re connecting with, and how we’re presenting all of it in each issue of the publication. Our plan is to have a limited print run for each issue which will be distributed in conjunction with two other things we're working towards: artist open studios and curated house art shows. Our timelines are a little loose as compared to standard publications, as we depend on donations or grant funding. And also because we want to be truly intentional in what we produce — much like creating an art object. This is truly a labor of love, produced with the support of people who care deeply about raising the value of our art conversations and interactions.&nbsp; <img width="5558" height="2412" width_o="5558" height_o="2412" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/dc720f82c0fe6cc5fed74c5a5c411cb2577ae64d8d079b07b09e9ad49f45f5c5/Asset-4.png" data-mid="66986977" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/dc720f82c0fe6cc5fed74c5a5c411cb2577ae64d8d079b07b09e9ad49f45f5c5/Asset-4.png" /> https://nobusinessmagazine.com/No-Biz-Goods Mon, 22 Jun 2020 16:49:11 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/No-Biz-Goods No Biz Goods No Business Magazine loves sharing print-first, limited-run arts and culture publications and supporting goods like one-of-a-kind book sleeves, limited postcards and stickers. <img width="1466" height="1982" width_o="1466" height_o="1982" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c1463c8944ec3340232631efea81254e5e93b1e2ad9ca89748ade8f5d98ba571/NoBizGoods-_thankyou-front-1.jpg" data-mid="75893532" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c1463c8944ec3340232631efea81254e5e93b1e2ad9ca89748ade8f5d98ba571/NoBizGoods-_thankyou-front-1.jpg" /> Issue Two: Power ColorsWe’re all out of copies at HQ, but you can find copies of Power Colors at our stockists below. These two are small shops we love. They have so many gems, go support them! Inga Books (SOLD OUT) www.i-n-g-a.com Woonwinkel (SOLD OUT) www.woonwinkelhome.com https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Identity-Home Tue, 14 Apr 2020 15:58:50 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Identity-Home Issue 1: Identity June 2019Our first issue explores identity in various forms and concepts — how identity has formed art and art choices, how choices and art has impacted identity, or how an identity is formed and/or presented through concepts in art. The people featured in Identity touch on very different things, from photographing a Burmese refugee community in Zomi Town aka Tulsa, a popular American sport influencing art practices, exploring identity as an outsider, looking at hybrid identity through art, how fan fiction manifests itself in art, to finding community within a subculture. Our first issue wouldn't have been possible without the energy, time, knowledge, and opportunity shared by Daniel Mung, Amelie Mancini, Paul Dressen, Marsha Mack, Lorraine Rubio, Brian Bieber, University Libraries at the University of South Dakota, Amy Jarding, Eli Show, Amanda Smith, and Amplify Arts. The launch of No Business Magazine and limited run of Identity was through grant funding from AIGA South Dakota and Sioux Falls Arts Council. We released Identity with launch events in Omaha (NE) and Sioux Falls (SD) in conjunction with a curated art show and artist open studios.&nbsp;<img width="4717" height="6600" width_o="4717" height_o="6600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ab8bab469e51cf75606de07be62fb94d4d79031a2c361e16a61c810133fcfabc/SKM_C284e19081516120.jpg" data-mid="66958784" border="0" data-scale="90" data-no-zoom src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ab8bab469e51cf75606de07be62fb94d4d79031a2c361e16a61c810133fcfabc/SKM_C284e19081516120.jpg" /> ZOMI TOWN In the current landscape where “assimilation” in regards to minority communities is misconstrued by certain groups as a singular American culture, it’s been enlightening to see how the Zomi community is establishing a sense of place for its people. Seattle-based photographer Daniel Mung spent six months in Tulsa with this refugee community, capturing moments from their everyday lives. READ MORE ONE BASE AT A TIME The nice thing about baseball is, you don’t have to know about baseball to know about baseball. The sport has existed in the periphery of my reality, a constant in my life, but never a requirement. It remains an American pastime easily recognizable, and widely accessible for onlookers and enthusiasts alike; a sport that operates on it’s own time, a game that has grown and adapted through the birth of this nation. The tradition and rituals of the sport reach far into family histories and the passion that holds our focus. READ MORE MISS VIETNAM For a few years now, Denver-based artist Marsha Mack has made bodies of work that look at subjective identity and cultural forces at play (that form identity). One of her more recent installations — Miss Vietnam — hit closer to home for the artist. It came together after an exploratory first glance at the origins of her Vietnamese heritage. The installation presents recurring motifs that relate back to femininity, Asianness, commercialization, and an ideal standard for identity. It gives us a perspective on a non-identity through the eyes of Mack. READ MORE <img width="1081" height="1081" width_o="1081" height_o="1081" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/45d75f328c6a73c68c3044e9ee53f9dea271533ddc2d4e346bd54ac72b8e812a/NOBIZ_3-2.jpg" data-mid="66964865" border="0" data-marker-id="5" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/45d75f328c6a73c68c3044e9ee53f9dea271533ddc2d4e346bd54ac72b8e812a/NOBIZ_3-2.jpg" /> I’m going to tell you about who I am through two art pieces. I found these during my art history major in college. They would come to encapsulate two aspects of my identity that I first became aware of when I was 12: one, that racially, I’m many things—Mexican, Chinese, Filipino, and German. And two, that I am gay. READ MORE [I REALLY GET INTO IT] Subcultures create space for identities that don’t necessarily fit into the mold of parent cultures. The early 1990s punk scene in Sioux Falls, like in many other communities, grew out of the need for this space. In his feature-length documentary — I Really Get Into It — writer and filmmaker Brian Bieber examines the stories of the kids who made the Sioux Falls punk scene, and how this community, and their identity within it, has influenced them as adults. READ MORE Fan Fiction &amp; the Art of Subjectivity Art lives and dies within its audience; this idea can be traced back as far as ancient India. An artist’s intentions are notable, but they do not always fully translate. While a work of art can live many lives throughout history, an author’s intent might die with the author. In our current society, communities are formed online through connections with a work of art, and it is within these communities that fan fiction often arises. READ MORE <img width="99" height="380" width_o="99" height_o="380" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/bf39b36134e5ae27662ee6564eb659ddfe8b826895ddf6511c108a779f717e94/Asset-1.png" data-mid="66970815" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/99/i/bf39b36134e5ae27662ee6564eb659ddfe8b826895ddf6511c108a779f717e94/Asset-1.png" /> <img width="2084" height="1053" width_o="2084" height_o="1053" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0b9d3cd9eff8673bfbeea2495b7d99f7c5af2a3483baf444e2537168d0013335/Asset-3.png" data-mid="66970818" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0b9d3cd9eff8673bfbeea2495b7d99f7c5af2a3483baf444e2537168d0013335/Asset-3.png" /> What is — ? In 1958, a jury for Philbrook Art Center’s annual exhibition wrote, “...the PAC show is mainly for the traditional style.”, followed by a note asking if the artist “could possibly consider doing the traditional style” for the show. These were remarks to Dancer Umine Wacipi by South Dakota artist Oscar Howe for a juried show specifically established to highlight Native American artists and indigenous works of art. READ MORE <img width="5558" height="2412" width_o="5558" height_o="2412" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/dc720f82c0fe6cc5fed74c5a5c411cb2577ae64d8d079b07b09e9ad49f45f5c5/Asset-4.png" data-mid="66970820" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/dc720f82c0fe6cc5fed74c5a5c411cb2577ae64d8d079b07b09e9ad49f45f5c5/Asset-4.png" /> https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Zomi-Town Tue, 14 Apr 2020 20:13:52 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Zomi-Town ZOMI TOWN Interview with Daniel Mung Photographs by Daniel Mung In the current landscape where “assimilation” in regards tominority communities is misconstrued by certain groups as a singular American culture, it’s been enlightening to see howthe Zomi community is establishing a sense of place for itspeople. Seattle-based photographer Daniel Mung spent six months in Tulsa with this refugee community, capturing moments from their everyday lives.<img width="5600" height="3333" width_o="5600" height_o="3333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9c14f7d9874db07274f92b003591466b5c6e9152e1bac9971be934652ca391a7/SKM_C284e19081516150.jpg" data-mid="66978909" border="0" data-scale="100" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9c14f7d9874db07274f92b003591466b5c6e9152e1bac9971be934652ca391a7/SKM_C284e19081516150.jpg" /> Daniel Mung finds his ancestral roots in the now largely displaced population of the Zomi people. Mung’s family built their home in northeast India, with minimal links to their Burmese Zomi heritage. He attended school and worked across the Indian subcontinent, absorbing&nbsp;the diversity of the&nbsp;cities he lived in. “I didn’t speak the [Zomi] language, but grew to learn it. I didn’t have friends from my community while growing up, so this&nbsp;[project] was a weird way to be reintroduced to the culture,” he said.The Zomi people originally inhabited western parts of Burma (Chin State, Myanmar), but after an ethnic strife they emigrated to India,&nbsp;Malaysia and Thailand.&nbsp;Many were driven out of Myanmar because of their ethnic minority identity and culture — mostly Christian, with a different&nbsp;language and cultural practice from the Burmese majority. In 2007, there was a large influx of Burmese Zomi people to the US under a UNHRC rehabilitation program, with majority of them settling in Tulsa,&nbsp;Oklahoma. The Zomi&nbsp;population in Tulsa&nbsp;is now around 6,000&nbsp;strong, making it the largest Zomi community&nbsp;in America. Mung began his photo journey capturing the diverse small communities in India while working for an international aid agency. After working for several years, he enrolled for the masters program in photojournalism at The University of Missouri. For his thesis, he lived in ‘Zomi Town’ Tulsa for half a year, which resulted in his photo series — Land of Milk and Honey.&nbsp; “It’s been quite a journey for me. And, this seemed like a story only I could tell.” <img width="2410" height="2411" width_o="2410" height_o="2411" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2c5870ac06cd1b68f2c1fdc8db1f3eae1963b4ad10bc313a4f0ca2ef61446534/Asset-14.png" data-mid="67143034" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" data-rotation="180" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2c5870ac06cd1b68f2c1fdc8db1f3eae1963b4ad10bc313a4f0ca2ef61446534/Asset-14.png" /> <img width="8400" height="5100" width_o="8400" height_o="5100" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d44eadd1b7b690f9fef24562962356c9c8eec7549956a7cbff3b2174a6f03fee/SKM_C284e19081517040.jpg" data-mid="66978910" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d44eadd1b7b690f9fef24562962356c9c8eec7549956a7cbff3b2174a6f03fee/SKM_C284e19081517040.jpg" /> With strong cultural ties to Christianity,&nbsp;the Zomi have established 15 churches for theircommunity in Tulsa. “These churches have&nbsp;been a place of catharsis&nbsp;and emotional release&nbsp;for the Zomi people [after all they have struggled through],”&nbsp;said Daniel Mung. They are also places for Zomi children to learn their language and history. June 28, 2018: Cing Tawi Lun, 5, kisses her one-year-old brother Nang Lian Khai, before going to sleep. Thang Khan Kim, 3, plays with toys before sleeping in his section of the family bed surrounded by red pillows. In a lot of Zomi&nbsp;houses, one can find colorfulfloral-patterned bedcovers ordered&nbsp;from India and Myanmar. September 9, 2018: Thang Za Cing lies down during the worship service&nbsp;at Full Life Gospel Church, Tulsa.&nbsp;“Singing and dancing in church is&nbsp;medicinal for me. Both spirituallyand physically. It gives me the&nbsp;strength to forgive others and&nbsp;pray for them,” said Cing.July 18, 2018: Zomi dialect material at a summer class in Myanmar Zomi Baptist Convention.The church started teaching “Zo lai” since the summer of 2008.&nbsp;Majority of the Zomi churches&nbsp;teach second-generation children&nbsp;how to read, speak and write in&nbsp;Zomi dialect during summer breaks. <img width="129" height="173" width_o="129" height_o="173" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ade6fb53d42f3190ebb87af15870ec27e9a8826638409e2e7863e4ccbd958a07/Asset-12.png" data-mid="67143036" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/129/i/ade6fb53d42f3190ebb87af15870ec27e9a8826638409e2e7863e4ccbd958a07/Asset-12.png" /> The first group of Burmese Zomi asylum-seekers moved to Tulsa as theology students at the Oral Roberts University. Aside from being able to freely practice their religion and culture, Tulsa became an easy destination for&nbsp;Zomi refugees because of a lower cost of living and fair employment opportunities. <img width="2000" height="1335" width_o="2000" height_o="1335" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9420d61af343b565bcaba730b8a1661256937af7aa7c819145a26c7cba5c92af/LandofMilk_Honey-12.jpg" data-mid="66980962" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9420d61af343b565bcaba730b8a1661256937af7aa7c819145a26c7cba5c92af/LandofMilk_Honey-12.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1335" width_o="2000" height_o="1335" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d83564786a7b48c6a02982ccf5804cb38033d64fc16b1ea8d1e32a59f374580f/LandofMilk_Honey-07.jpg" data-mid="66980964" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d83564786a7b48c6a02982ccf5804cb38033d64fc16b1ea8d1e32a59f374580f/LandofMilk_Honey-07.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1335" width_o="2000" height_o="1335" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/27109a006bbf19da966d3c31cb2275ac11d835b49d4696fdaed71fb5791525b2/LandofMilk_Honey-25.jpg" data-mid="66980957" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/27109a006bbf19da966d3c31cb2275ac11d835b49d4696fdaed71fb5791525b2/LandofMilk_Honey-25.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1335" width_o="2000" height_o="1335" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0ae0d630303b1bd413fd9ac1472a131a66a46164cb5180e029772babb0198a86/LandofMilk_Honey-08.jpg" data-mid="66980963" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0ae0d630303b1bd413fd9ac1472a131a66a46164cb5180e029772babb0198a86/LandofMilk_Honey-08.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1335" width_o="2000" height_o="1335" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c87e70db8e859f636b7f0e0742c114e7e94c5d159034502d577c8783586acdd8/LandofMilk_Honey-15.jpg" data-mid="66980961" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c87e70db8e859f636b7f0e0742c114e7e94c5d159034502d577c8783586acdd8/LandofMilk_Honey-15.jpg" /> <img width="5600" height="3400" width_o="5600" height_o="3400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/79c8cd8937eb94e9adbaa633c71a0f1484460c64ae8ed05f1e6d8817a6923f42/SKM_C284e19081517050.jpg" data-mid="66978911" border="0" data-scale="100" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/79c8cd8937eb94e9adbaa633c71a0f1484460c64ae8ed05f1e6d8817a6923f42/SKM_C284e19081517050.jpg" /> Land of Milk and Honey is a testament to the resilience of the Burmese Zomi people in the face of global migration and the strong kinship they share within the community. The project examines the Zomi diaspora as a multifaceted people with everyday longings, concerns, joy and nostalgia for the past. It celebrates the entrepreneurial spirit, rituals and faith of the Zomis in Tulsa. Daniel Mung is a documentary photographer based in Seattle, WA. @danieljamang www.danielmung.com <img width="769" height="549" width_o="769" height_o="549" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8e43141e593867544bfe655074ed17161954bc38a2df53a1c1b62b64014f3633/Asset-17.png" data-mid="67143030" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/769/i/8e43141e593867544bfe655074ed17161954bc38a2df53a1c1b62b64014f3633/Asset-17.png" /> https://nobusinessmagazine.com/One-Base-at-a-Time Tue, 14 Apr 2020 21:37:12 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/One-Base-at-a-Time ONE BASE AT A TIME&nbsp; Exploring Identity Through Repetition and Interaction Words: Amy JardingInterviews with: Amelie Mancini and Paul Dressen <img width="719" height="711" width_o="719" height_o="711" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/69f6e30b8f8503d171c6448ac33d79b8300e29353bb27392d782c90530156566/Asset-2-bb.png" data-mid="67015741" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/719/i/69f6e30b8f8503d171c6448ac33d79b8300e29353bb27392d782c90530156566/Asset-2-bb.png" /> The nice thing about baseball is, you don’t have to know about baseball to know about baseball. The sport has existed in the periphery of my reality, a constant in my life, but never a requirement. It remains an American pastime easily recognizable, and widely accessible for onlookers and enthusiasts alike; a sport that operates on it’s own time, a game that has grown and adapted through the birth of this nation. The tradition and rituals of the sport reach far into family histories and the passion that holds our focus. We create our own history - a revisionism in the sense that a shared experience will still be entirely one’s own. This could also be said of our relationships with art - the artist presenting within a parameter of circumstance, leaving the viewer to digest and manipulate that understanding into their own cognitive context. Much like an artistic practice, the enduring nature of sports contributes to learning one’s true self, a realization of identity and exploration through repetition and interaction. Art is a language within itself; a courier of identity as a vehicle in which we understand and express, question and agitate. It’s how the truths and stories are shared that gives insight to the identity of the individual. I had the opportunity to speak with two New York artists about how baseball has influenced their lives, and how the sport has worked its way into their artistic practice. Their works contain narrative not only of environment, but also dissection, inspired through familial and historical inquiries in practice; an examination of traditions, both adapted and repeated. Amelie Mancini is an artist and designer based in Brooklyn, NY. Although she spent her childhood in Lyon, France, Mancini moved to NYC shortly after graduating from the Universite Sorbonne in Paris, and has lived in Brooklyn ever since. When I first saw Mancini’s work, I was drawn to her sense of humor. Her series of hand-printed Left Field Series baseball cards feature unexpected anecdotes, strange facial hair, silly names and playful facts for different players throughout the years. The linoleum carved and printed cards are so impressive that beginning Memorial Day weekend, they will be exhibited at the National Baseball Hall of Fame as part of their permanent collection. Mancini’s interaction with baseball didn’t really begin until after she moved to the US. As someone that has never really been involved in team sports, she explains that “growing up in France there was no baseball, with the exception of American movies where usually there's a scene about a little kid playing baseball and the dad does or doesn't show up at the game.” After being invited to a Mets game by some friends, Mancini found herself experiencing an atmosphere of excitement and enthusiasm. Little did she know, that would just be the beginning of her relationship with the sport. A few months after attending that game, Mancini was going through a serious breakup, and she she says she found herself alone at a bar, “sipping a beer, Johnny Cash was playing and when I looked up I saw that there was a baseball game on TV. At that moment it felt like America was giving me a hug and telling me it was all going to be okay. No matter what, there would always be beer, music and baseball. I love that about baseball. It's very comforting.” This moment served as one of several catalysts for Mancini, her interest in baseball slowly evolving into an appreciation that would manifest itself within her artistic practice. Artist Paul Dressen resides in Corning, NY and works as a Preparator for the Rockwell Museum. Stemming from printmaking and painting, his work gives focus to seeking the individual’s role in society, “American culture, in particular, has been a constant influence and source of imagery for me as I attempt to navigate the lines between the individual, private and public.” For Dressen, the connection between sports and his art has been intrinsic to his personal identity. Exploring both the act and the aesthetic of sports, baseball in particular, Dressen’s childhood passion grew with him into his artwork. His love of sports is rooted in Americana and how it has impacted American culture in different ways. As a child, sports were ingrained in Paul’s upbringing, baseball being something that he had essentially been playing since he was old enough to walk. This connection stayed with him, going from playing baseball with his brother in a makeshift field his father would carve out in the backyard, all the way to playing several years of amateur town team ball in college. Dressen’s father contributed more to his love of baseball than just mowing out a field in the backyard. His father impressed upon his kids an appreciation for sports and a healthy competitive nature. Dressen inherited his dad’s baseball card collection after losing his father when he was 10 years old. In the collection, he found a 1958 Ted Williams card, the most valuable piece in the collection, except for a blob of bright green paint that deemed the card worthless. Paul asked his uncle about the blob, and discovered that when his father and uncle were children, the boys had absentmindedly used the card to catch any paint drips while painting a model car, and had been horrified to later realize what they had done. Even when it may not feel like it, the human condition is in a constant state of flux, identities being shaped in the way one views themself, the influence of their family relations, and the impact of their physical and emotional communities. AMELIE MANCINI <img width="4006" height="3600" width_o="4006" height_o="3600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/50b319c69dfa21caa409152e74c906063bc6732aa6016037c432281425faaf0d/baberuth.jpg" data-mid="66996031" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/50b319c69dfa21caa409152e74c906063bc6732aa6016037c432281425faaf0d/baberuth.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="2020" width_o="2000" height_o="2020" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3844ba93aec2ba97d2ec03a80a5a0c98e3fd8874a2d2a4172c5624beb64339ed/LeftFieldCards.jpg" data-mid="66996034" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3844ba93aec2ba97d2ec03a80a5a0c98e3fd8874a2d2a4172c5624beb64339ed/LeftFieldCards.jpg" /> <img width="3913" height="3493" width_o="3913" height_o="3493" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0dc05775a621359619170866473f0c6503e8891a6446cae892914705b090d3e7/JackieRobinson.jpg" data-mid="66996030" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0dc05775a621359619170866473f0c6503e8891a6446cae892914705b090d3e7/JackieRobinson.jpg" /> Mancini explained the thought process for her painting subjects: “I started with Babe Ruth because he seemed to be the biggest player of all (both literally and figuratively). Then I chose Roger Maris because I read that he broke Babe Ruth’s home run record. Then Jackie Robinson because he broke another, arguably more difficult, kind of barrier - the color barrier. Then Ty Cobb because he was at the other end of the spectrum:a racist and by all accounts a ferocious asshole on and off the field. Then Harvey Haddix because he was a mensch and&nbsp;also a brilliant player. Then Sandy Koufax, who’d played for Brooklyn and Los Angeles and was Jewish, like my husband. Finally, Tom Seaver because I was, after all, a Mets fan.” <img width="946" height="1726" width_o="946" height_o="1726" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b7412e74743adffef2c1305e1bd9a41430b7410f8ae1939747585b08f56f0d28/NO-BIZ-Cards--09.png" data-mid="67013420" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/946/i/b7412e74743adffef2c1305e1bd9a41430b7410f8ae1939747585b08f56f0d28/NO-BIZ-Cards--09.png" /> <img width="946" height="1726" width_o="946" height_o="1726" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a87a06dd0ed2d608c81e2feaf679bd01107cf2a37e2e08acdae69ece9342f849/NO-BIZ-Cards--10.png" data-mid="67013421" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/946/i/a87a06dd0ed2d608c81e2feaf679bd01107cf2a37e2e08acdae69ece9342f849/NO-BIZ-Cards--10.png" /> This quick moment in history has left a long lasting impression with Dressen and his approach to his graffitied baseball cards. “The initial idea behind the project was to reclaim that act and essentially destroy what had been left of him and replace it with my own deconstructed self. I was looking to save the irony of his responsible nature resulting in the destruction of his most prized possession and defend that action.” Dressen’s work establishes itself as a de-facto legacy to his father, his artwork driven by an exploration of a moment, creating and recreating parallel motions in an attempt to connect through his own interpretive understanding.&nbsp; Limiting himself to three different interactions with the cards, his approach to alteration includes “distorting the faces and disappearing the figures, transforming the players into exaggerated self-portraits, or making the cards into stupid joke illustrations.” By exploring the consequences of different mark making on the cards, he attempts to rid the process of preciousness and jibes at the imagery of sports icons held in a super-human view. The alteration of his childhood collection forges a connection between Dressen and his father, the Ted Williams card serving as a guide in which to digest and manipulate his approach to his work, while creating his own personal narratives in the process. For Mancini, her baseball series really took flight after looking through her then boyfriend-now husband’s card collection. She wanted to create her own cards, and include facts on them similar to the way Topps cards did. After looking into the background of several different players, she realized “a lot of players had interesting stories of getting hurt off the field in really captivating ways. That's how the first series was created. For the following series I brainstormed ideas with him and we came up with a bunch of different themes in the same vein, like players with food names ("Edible All-Stars") or funny mustaches.” This exploration of histories offers players in a more humanistic view, articulating characters that present beyond just a one dimensional sports icon. Both Mancini and Dressen create works that bring you closer to the subject, their alterations of the players generating relatable personalities through obfuscation of preconceived notions of what makes a professional athlete. Mancini’s baseball player paintings included a similar research style to her card series, perusing through books about the history of baseball, and stopping when she would find an image that stood out to her. After choosing a photo, she would research more about the player, and then begin her painting. Subjects for her baseball series covered a wide range of players, Mancini explains that they were chosen “partly out of free association, partly out of intuition, and partly out of reading and learning about the history of the game and its players.” Babe Ruth was the first painting she tackled, deeming him the biggest player of all, in both physical size and notoriety. Over the course of six months, Mancini completed seven baseball paintings, each piece intrinsically connected to the next. Mancini has the gift of looking at the sport with fresh eyes and a different perspective, her paintings show her painterly side rather than trying to embody the “sport” aspect of baseball. Baseball has influenced life outside of her artwork, teaching underlying themes from the sport. “I've learned about loyalty, about resilience, about practice and about teamwork and individual brilliance. I've learned the taste of victory, but more so of defeat. I've learned that no matter what happened the day before, you have to get back on your feet and back to work.” There is a recurring notion of endurance - pushing through both the familiar and the unknown in a way that dilutes hesitation and encourages one to take a chance. PAUL DRESSEN <img width="1487" height="1041" width_o="1487" height_o="1041" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d5d255153bef6601422af4dbb0d4c7fe7eccf8d444f0fe41e3bb50794f5febd8/4_Dressen_Gene-Woodling.jpg" data-mid="66996008" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d5d255153bef6601422af4dbb0d4c7fe7eccf8d444f0fe41e3bb50794f5febd8/4_Dressen_Gene-Woodling.jpg" /> <img width="1387" height="1002" width_o="1387" height_o="1002" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/af7eb7c752bf9903a5d1fce1317151067da31fafca79f802c67d448b6632d9aa/5_Dressen_Cola-Power.jpg" data-mid="66996007" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/af7eb7c752bf9903a5d1fce1317151067da31fafca79f802c67d448b6632d9aa/5_Dressen_Cola-Power.jpg" /> <img width="1382" height="1008" width_o="1382" height_o="1008" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cac178c38edffe427d734e6d8685b65544a7802f92a1cf74b64c186d8e1422f1/3_Dressen_Double-Play-Veil.jpg" data-mid="66996011" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cac178c38edffe427d734e6d8685b65544a7802f92a1cf74b64c186d8e1422f1/3_Dressen_Double-Play-Veil.jpg" /> “One of my favorite qualities of works on paper is the fragile nature of paper itself. Paper naturally&nbsp;holds evidence of an artwork’s construction.&nbsp;It leaves eraser marks, inked fingerprints, and&nbsp;abraded surfaces from drawing utensils. It can&nbsp;also leave evidence of handling after it has left&nbsp;the artist’shands in the creases, folds, stains,&nbsp;and bent or rounded corners it endures later.” Much like an artistic practice, the enduring nature of sports contributes to learning one’s true self, a realization of identity and exploration through repetition and interaction. Dressen likens artistic learning experiences to the resilience of failure in baseball: “the very best hitters fail 70% of the time they step up to the plate. Errors are a measured defensive statistic, and they are very common especially in the lower ranks of the game...I think baseball players have to learn to accept and embrace failure because it is always there, staring them in the face.” Dressen sees defeat as a translatable force, teaching individuals about accepting and handling the failures you are met with throughout life. He has noticed the residual nature of failure in contemporary art; artists using downfalls to their benefit, failures evolving from a thing of disappointment to one of discovery and opportunity. By removing the negative connotations of failure, there is an encouragement and curiosity attached to work in a way that expands upon vulnerability and experimentation. Even when it may not feel like it, the human condition is in a constant state of flux, identities being shaped in the way one views themself, the influence of their family relations, and the impact of their physical and emotional communities. These characteristics are far-reaching and require an understanding of traits, thought processes and personal struggles and developments. Both Mancini and Dressen have maintained artistic practices that encourage inquiry, and an intimate articulation of their subject matter. They have the ability to find their moments of definition, and carry that far beyond, some foundations cradled in the brain, altering ever so slightly through the passing of time. <img width="1240" height="1240" width_o="1240" height_o="1240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ace92cae9762e43623a2c066dc78668944595d41cd660a70880f1cde6868ac63/startinglineup1.jpg" data-mid="66996032" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ace92cae9762e43623a2c066dc78668944595d41cd660a70880f1cde6868ac63/startinglineup1.jpg" /> <img width="1240" height="1240" width_o="1240" height_o="1240" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/568ddd995cb770f7b4fa7eb73e6fd3d9e50ab11dff0f720c7b9012d9119a75ae/startinglineup2.jpg" data-mid="66996033" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/568ddd995cb770f7b4fa7eb73e6fd3d9e50ab11dff0f720c7b9012d9119a75ae/startinglineup2.jpg" /> <img width="547" height="768" width_o="547" height_o="768" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6d7c3ea949b709ab961c23c67a35eb9afc47c977c7446163c5596b4bcba46466/2_Dressen_Blown.jpg" data-mid="66996010" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/547/i/6d7c3ea949b709ab961c23c67a35eb9afc47c977c7446163c5596b4bcba46466/2_Dressen_Blown.jpg" /> “I’ve always been into minor acts of subversion or vandalism, like drawing devil horns on a politician in a newspaper or scribbling stubble and an eye patch on a diplomat in a magazine or blacking out the teeth of a supermodel on subway advertisement. Mimicking that kind of thing is lot of what I try to do in my work, but the baseball cards are the most literal form of that. I do a lot of collage work and I draw and paint on top of my own prints and drawings as well as other mass-produced print media.” AMELIE MANCINI ameliemancini.com @ameliemancini PAUL DRESSEN @pdressen https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Miss-Vietnam Wed, 15 Apr 2020 22:47:45 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Miss-Vietnam HOW ARE IDENTITIES FORMED OUTSIDE&nbsp; OF NAME, ETHNICITY, RACE, SEX, JOB, PLACE / HOME ? WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN SOMEONE ASKS YOU, “what’s your identity?” What IS an identity? How are identities formed? Is it a (perceived) choice or is it imposed on your personhood? Identity is a lot of things, it goes beyond self, it’s complex, it’s a long conversation we tend to summarize. HOW &nbsp;MANY &nbsp;TIMES &nbsp;CAN &nbsp;I &nbsp;WRITE &nbsp; IDENTITIES &nbsp;IN &nbsp;ONE &nbsp;PARAGRAPH? &nbsp; A lot. MISS VIETNAM: MULTITUDE V. SINGULAR This interview was between Marsha Mack and Angela Zonunpari. Photos by Sara Ford. For a few years now, Denver-based artist Marsha Mack has made bodies of work that look at subjective identity and cultural forces at play (that form identity). One of her more recent installations — Miss Vietnam — hit closer to home for the artist. It came together after an exploratory first glance at the origins of her Vietnamese heritage. The installation presents recurring motifs that relate back to femininity, Asianness, commercialization, and an ideal standard for identity. It gives us a perspective on a non-identity through the eyes of Mack. Tell me a little about yourself, where you grew up, your art beginnings, schools, etc. I am a Bay Area native, born and raised in San Rafael, CA. My dad owns an art picture framing business that was based in San Francisco for my entire childhood, so I grew up around art and attending art openings. For as long as I can remember I have been an artist, originally painting and drawing and begging my dad to buy/bring home art supplies. For better or for worse, my dad recognized my interest and encouraged my childhood artistic endeavors, up until today. I was never expected to be a lawyer, never told to think far into the future beyond my latest art obsessions. I feel very lucky for this. Also, in most of my recounting personal mythology, I often leave out my mother. I was raised primarily by my father, as my parents were divorced when I was very young. She was still present throughout my life, often popping in weekly to bring me candies/treats or to cook food. Much of Miss Vietnam is reconciling this void or separation from her that I’ve created in my mind, trying to bridge a gap that inevitably widens without intentional maintenance. Society can read “ethnic” on my skin, and yet I have no connection to the ghost limb of my Vietnamese heritage. <img width="600" height="400" width_o="600" height_o="400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/45fb12510a105485fb30b64958d38938918a1ce53e9203893135d393ccf475a9/MarshaMack.gif" data-mid="67137754" border="0" data-scale="100" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/600/i/45fb12510a105485fb30b64958d38938918a1ce53e9203893135d393ccf475a9/MarshaMack.gif" /> <img width="580" height="1435" width_o="580" height_o="1435" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a6fb0a1d50f734da722bf10c5937fb61f84bb2342721e5df2e81cb5e5788b06f/Asset-2.png" data-mid="67123109" border="0" data-no-zoom="true" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/580/i/a6fb0a1d50f734da722bf10c5937fb61f84bb2342721e5df2e81cb5e5788b06f/Asset-2.png" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/52825c49ee18531339fa8313339991dd77e755c11b2d5c6dfc7430824972ba42/IMG_3102.png" data-mid="67135265" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/52825c49ee18531339fa8313339991dd77e755c11b2d5c6dfc7430824972ba42/IMG_3102.png" /> How did you come to making the works in Miss Vietnam? And, how did the idea of Miss Vietnam come about? I came to a point in my artmaking where I wanted to dig deep into unexplored/uncomfortable content. These days I am continually challenging myself to create more ambitious, unusual works to keep my practice progressing and my senses sharp. This is not the easier path, but it is the more gratifying. Identity work so easily can become a pejorative term, as often it can be purely self-referential and nothing more. I wanted to go into this risky territory, authentically make it my own, and create works that look beyond the self. When I began to think about my mixed race heritage, my largely “white” upbringing and lifestyle, and my relationship with Vietnamese food as surrogate for my mother, the work took off.Was your recent trip to Vietnam your first time there? How did you identify yourself while making this body of work? Yes, it was my first and only trip to Vietnam. It was so so wonderful, delicious, exciting, and challenging. While there, people recognized that I had Vietnamese blood, but very rarely mistook me for a Vietnamese national. While there, I found myself alternating between thinking about my mother and her childhood in then Saigon, which would have been completely unrecognizable from its current reality. I began to notice the ubiquitous woman in a yellow ao dai that is on all kinds of tourist trinkets, which took on symbolic meaning during my trip. I began to purchase as many of these trinkets as possible, not knowing when or how I would make sense of my spontaneous collecting. In Miss Vietnam, the woman in yellow ao dai speaks to Vietnamese femininity and identify, as both marketable image to outsiders, as well as cultural ideal. She is a mysterious figure that appears throughout my works, coyly gazing over her shoulder at onlookers. While making the exhibition, a new facet of identity’s complicated nature took shape. I was beginning to think of myself as a Vietnamese person, but without the access points of culture, language, and only 50% genetics. Society can read “ethnic” on my skin, and yet I have no connection to the ghost limb of my Vietnamese heritage. In many ways I felt further from my cultural whiteness, and hopelessly distanced from my mother and her influence. I still feel this way, but have come to recognize this disconnect as meaningful. I will spend the rest of my life trying to get closer to cultural fullness, and I’m at peace with that. During our first conversation, you mentioned how you’ve presented works that touch on “subjective identity” or the forces at play that form identity, can you tell me more about your past bodies of work? How is Miss Vietnam distinct and how is it a different approach for you? Previous bodies of work often rely on a maximal aesthetic, metaphorical ties to material, and an underlying cultural critique. My practice is frequently project-based, meaning my materials and subject change with each body of work. Previously I had created a body work focusing on bubblegum and macrame, and before that orchids and strawberry milk. I like to tie in visual and sensory elements to create new ways of looking at ourselves in our environment, assuming both are constructed under pervasive capitalist forces. The jump from threading bubblegum beads onto wall hanging works to discussing my mother’s mental illness was quite a jump for me. Rather than culling content from my experience as a consumer in society that is designed to hit the largest audience, I brought the focus in as painfully close as I could handle. In doing this, I found the biggest challenge was forcing myself to have a conversation involving private/public personal mythology that I didn’t find in an academic text, but rather in my lived experience. I then found that the exact details of my history weren’t even particularly significant, but rather, the general complication of being a body moving through the world. For me, identity is made intelligible via comparison and contrast with our surroundings as well as the process by which we acknowledge it ourselves. You bring in whimsy and sort of this sweetness to your works, what’s your process like in narrowing down those aspects of your concepts? Was it different for Miss Vietnam? I have been using sugar and sweetness as a metaphor for social conditioning and gender expectation for about five years now. I like the idea of “sugar-coating” things to mask unpleasantries or as a means to be willfully ignorant. I genuinely love hyper cute, sparkly, sweet things, and when I use found objects in my work I often accumulate kawaii elements to hyperbolic ends in hopes of creating an aggressively passive aesthetic. In previous bodies of work this has meant using food items as art materials, either drilling through them, encasing them in resin, or in one case, literally sugar coating sculptures in melted candies. For Miss Vietnam, I embraced candy as an integral part of my identity, that is, White Rabbit Creamy Candy, Botan Rice Candy, and Strawberry Pocky. This holy trinity made up my three favorite treats from the Asian Market, and which played a major role in recognizing the Asian market as a “safe” space, or at least a space where I belonged and my white friends did not. In realizing that I passed in the market where my friends were confused by smells and wrappers and Asian languages, I became aware and accepting of my difference. For me, having parents with two different ethnicities and being this crazy amalgamation of places and cultures I’ve lived in has always been an adventure in discovery and surprise/introspection (other than feeling a little isolated at times). Has Miss Vietnam been that for you in any way? Has this process helped in discovering things about your “identity”? I did an artist talk while Miss Vietnam was up [at ATC DEN in Denver, CO], in which a Korean-American casually mentioned that I wasn’t a Vietnamese person in their question. At the time this went right over my head, because I agree — I’m not a real Vietnamese person. I often forget I am different than the imperative caucasian American cultural norm, and myself am confused at how and why I can be part something and yet have no sense or connection to what that means. It’s confusing to be two things at once. Part of the motivation for Miss Vietnam was a longing to feel a sense of belonging to a culture that is readable by my physical features, but that I do not connect with otherwise. My mother is my bridge to my Vietnam heritage, and yet she is deeply emotionally and psychologically scarred by the violence she faced in warzone Saigon before her escape. I do not speak Vietnamese. I do not organically know about holidays and customs. Miss Vietnam is a futile, longing reach towards a heritage I may never fully understand. It is infused with the reality of understanding my heritage via imported candies in Asian grocery stores and traveling to my mother’s country only to still feel like an outsider. While I think there is an implied sadness in this work, there is also a curiosity and a slow burning desire. Also important to this project is the supplementing of organic experience with mass media. While watching Apocalypse Now, Full Metal Jacket, Platoon, etc., I am learning what being Vietnamese means in the American cultural context. The constructed jungle elements in Miss Vietnam, which were artificial bamboo and jungle-like house plants, spoke to the cultural piecemealing of identity that has contributed to the formation of my sense of self. I am consistently intrigued by societal norm and subversive messaging backed by commercial forces, which comes into my work in different ways. In Miss Vietnam, the emphasis on the Asian grocery store/Asian candies offers commercial goods as entrypoint to identity. I like the irony and dark humor of seeking of authenticity via commercial mass-produced goods, and I wonder if others have had this experience as well. <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f1c6d9068c574ffe161cc14fb422222695f8e02991a325167fdd1a8f411b3369/IMG_3080.jpg" data-mid="67137731" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f1c6d9068c574ffe161cc14fb422222695f8e02991a325167fdd1a8f411b3369/IMG_3080.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/772fd23d8c24afaa1f6ae9707250e86257fbf2d1206d4514420fe7c205495fc8/IMG_3085.jpg" data-mid="67137732" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/772fd23d8c24afaa1f6ae9707250e86257fbf2d1206d4514420fe7c205495fc8/IMG_3085.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/41b78beba4a678037a094e9d2336f727b03eece10760dfe8fdb6cacb4ea9af22/IMG_3086.jpg" data-mid="67137733" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/41b78beba4a678037a094e9d2336f727b03eece10760dfe8fdb6cacb4ea9af22/IMG_3086.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c2761bb97e54edad94367f4aadf161199916ec190d224bc2609f7f947c33ebc1/IMG_3088.jpg" data-mid="67137734" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c2761bb97e54edad94367f4aadf161199916ec190d224bc2609f7f947c33ebc1/IMG_3088.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/39988718aecfa45702c5adb17fb78e07f508a1f7d3ad3357c3e86c744e06a8fc/IMG_1283.jpg" data-mid="67137724" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/39988718aecfa45702c5adb17fb78e07f508a1f7d3ad3357c3e86c744e06a8fc/IMG_1283.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1253" width_o="2000" height_o="1253" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/421e3c09359d182b219299f31dfbd8efdcb70951d0a0fc0f59e37071508ec144/IMG_1306.jpg" data-mid="67137726" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/421e3c09359d182b219299f31dfbd8efdcb70951d0a0fc0f59e37071508ec144/IMG_1306.jpg" /> Your works have a very material quality to them, and it looks like you enjoy exploring materiality in what you make. Am I right in saying that? How does your ceramic background filter into your current practice? Definitely, I have a strong interest in materiality — the cultural meanings and personal associations materials inherently carry. When I use a material like Strawberry Pocky in my artwork, I know many people will recognize this and bring their own associations to the work. I’m interested in how different materials can be coded differently from person to person. Additionally, I have been incorporating scented elements into my projects for the past few years because I am fascinated by scent’s insidious nature and its ability to imprint memory on people. In this way, I am imprinting my work into the amygdala of my viewers, creating a space for myself that will be involuntarily and immediately triggered if they encounter the same scent again in their lifetime. Ceramics is my first love and always will be. I learned so much from ceramic materials and techniques, from a strong material sense to 3D composition. I feel that ceramics instilled a strong material sensibility at the foundation of my practice, which I am grateful for. I am still very active in the ceramic studio, incorporating ceramic elements into all of my recent projects. I hope that my future work can incorporate elements of ceramic sculpture, sensorial experiences, installation elements, and performative activation. I’ve got some things cooking in the studio now that have me reinterpreting how each of these elements can function and how much preexisting association can be utilized. Marsha Mack (b. 1987, San Rafael, CA) holds an MFA and a Certificate of Advanced Study in Women's and Gender Studies from Syracuse University, and a BFA from San Francisco State University. Marsha is currently a ceramics instructor at Foothills Park and Recreation District (Littleton, CO), the Associate Director of David B. Smith Gallery (Denver, CO), and is an artist in residence at RedLine Contemporary Art Center (Denver, CO). www.marshamack.com @yaymarshamack <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8a6f67e1d5df73f77b9284264efc40038e9019b587707eac7df1d4178af8e717/IMG_1336.jpg" data-mid="67138526" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8a6f67e1d5df73f77b9284264efc40038e9019b587707eac7df1d4178af8e717/IMG_1336.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1333" width_o="2000" height_o="1333" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e87f24f274f0550c0deadde8da6f304f57f4ef96062787e047bccc40e753a3b3/IMG_1292.jpg" data-mid="67137725" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e87f24f274f0550c0deadde8da6f304f57f4ef96062787e047bccc40e753a3b3/IMG_1292.jpg" /> https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Im-going-to-tell-you-about-who-I-am-through-two-art-pieces Thu, 16 Apr 2020 03:01:18 +0000 No Business Magazine https://nobusinessmagazine.com/Im-going-to-tell-you-about-who-I-am-through-two-art-pieces I’m going to tell you about who I am through two art pieces. I found these during my art history major in college. They would come to encapsulate two aspects of my identity that I first became aware of when I was 12: one, that racially, I’m many things—Mexican, Chinese, Filipino, and German. And two, that I am gay. LORRAINE RUBIO <img width="577" height="483" width_o="577" height_o="483" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d3d7c43b147f4b66c948328548cb5ee620b89b9c6b43d1bf0f77fc17f9701b7a/Asset-2-Yoko.png" data-mid="67141701" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/577/i/d3d7c43b147f4b66c948328548cb5ee620b89b9c6b43d1bf0f77fc17f9701b7a/Asset-2-Yoko.png" /> Cut Piece (1964), Yoko Ono In Cut Piece, Yoko Ono sits silent in her most expensive suit. A pair of scissors is next to her. The audience is invited to come forward and cut off parts of her clothing.&nbsp; When Ono performed Cut Piece, she was already recognized as an international artist. As a result of this and the fact that Cut Piece relies on audience interpretation of instructions, in each of the theaters the status of her female-ness was determined and performed by the audience. In New York and London, she was seen resentfully as a feminine totem of Japan—though in 1964 Japan began its re-opening to the world, it wouldn’t normalize US diplomatic relations until 1972. In Japan, she was divorced from her Japanese-ness: politely interacted with, but not embraced. As a college senior I fell into Cut Piece. Ono encourages other people to stage her pieces, so I did. I first became aware of my racial makeup being something that wasn’t ‘normal’ when a kid around the middle school vending machine asked me if I was adopted. I knew what my mom and dad looked like but had never thought the mix of the two would create something totally alien from the two. This confused me, and I wanted and searched for a person in TV and books that I could relate to. Because I grew up as a military kid—seven moves before 7th grade—I had allowed myself to be adaptable to a fault, allowing my race to be picked and prodded at by anyone who couldn’t easily identify my racial background.&nbsp; Six months after graduating college with my undergraduate degree in art history, I felt like I was in this place to embody Yoko—to willfully throw myself into space, like a human litmus test. I decided to perform Cut Piece. But by stepping into the role—metaphorically, throwing myself into the crowd of 30 people at a fringe-y East Village open mic—I caught myself, not allowing myself to be devoured. Beaded Curtains (1989-95), Felix Gonzalez-Torres Felix Gonzalez-Torres evaded being labeled ‘gay artist’ or being attached to his Cuban heritage. Given the fact that he worked in the 1980s and ‘90s, creating work centering on his experience of the AIDs crisis, it would be very easy to do just that: politicize his identity. I read his work as a deep memorial of life and love lost told through domestic objecthood. In Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, the Guggenheim and David Zwirner hangs beaded curtains in seven colors, each color represents a stage of Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ partner Ross Laycock passing. I walked through heavy beaded curtains and could feel the weight of their relationship, of Ross. Gonzalez-Torres claimed that though most works blocked or changed public space, they were always meant for an audience of one. I fell in love with the way Felix loved Ross. I love this depiction of love, because it goes past the glamorized exterior of a gay life and celebrates the tender and human aspects of partnership. An unabashed romantic, as a college junior, I wanted to see a partner the way Felix did. &nbsp; <img width="625" height="608" width_o="625" height_o="608" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1b38bc58b94d31d29b499f423943f9196d04e0c5bb2ca8526655651adb82eb3d/Asset-3-Torres.png" data-mid="67141700" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/625/i/1b38bc58b94d31d29b499f423943f9196d04e0c5bb2ca8526655651adb82eb3d/Asset-3-Torres.png" /> Twist After college and after performing Cut Piece, I worked as both an art journalist and marketer. I navigated conversations and challenges working towards a personal mission of creating greater recognition of artists of hybrid identity, such as Yoko Ono and Felix Gonzalez-Torres. Towards the end of this time I applied and was accepted to an MBA program in New York. Having finished my MBA, I’m no longer pursuing art. The world and my view of it has changed since opening myself to the world outside the art world. Just as the world’s reaction towards Yoko Ono has shifted to one of celebration, there’s a slow but increasing rise in the women of color seen in broader culture. We’re far from done though. At an LGBTQ-focused company reception in the fall of my second year of the MBA, I was standing in a circle with all queer women and we all discovered that we had come to business school from what business school admission committees call “non-traditional” backgrounds: historians, teachers, producers in art, film, and education. We had all felt that as queer women we could create the largest impact through making the fringes bigger—versus expanding mainstream norms of leadership. For decades the LGBTQ community has done the hard lift to elevate itself and other communities. I think it’s time to push the edges—from the middle of the pie, not the fringes. Lorraine Rubio recently graduated from the MBA program at NYU Stern. Before that she worked as an arts journalist and marketer. @lorrainerubio