Second Home

“Second Home is a social business with a mission to support creativity and entrepreneurship in cities around the world.”

Coworking is no longer just about finding a place to plonk your laptop. Now it’s about so much more: finding alignment with your values, finding your tribe, finding the brightest people and the shiniest ideas, and yes, finding ways to support your mental wellbeing in ways that fold into such things as design, community and culture. That’s where Second Home steps it. It’s coworking as more than the seat you occupy; it’s coworking for a better-designed life. 

We’re been in thrall to Second Home since we visited London’s Spitalfields branch with our kids, who thought it was a play space—which in a way it is. Maybe it’s the colors (that blazing brand orange), the fun textures, the transparent curvilinear walls, the sunken lounge space, the wavy ceiling. Maybe it’s the table that drops down when needed or the rooftop terrace where you can stand amongst ponds while taking in the cityscape. Maybe it’s all the green on green on green in the thousands of plants, the attempts to bring in natural light, the mix-mash of different furniture. It doesn’t feel like the kind of office space that you know, and my kids got that as they rushed through its spaces wanting to climb the chairs rather than the corporate ladder.

But it’s all been very, very intentionally designed to be this way—the playful appearance is its serious intent—to create the most positive environment for our wellbeing and productivity. The Spitalfields branch (Second Home’s earliest, opened in 2014)– and all but one of its other outposts—are the work of architect SelgasCano whose approach is deeply influenced by biophilia and evolutionary psychology. 

SelgasCano also designed the recently opened, template-shifting Hollywood coworking space, which has a cacophony of yellow islands (that top tubular pods), a magic ballroom and a dense urban forest. The firm was behind the brightly colored Serpentine Pavilion purchased by Second Home and moved to La Brea Tarpits to be a pop-up/love letter/ ‘Coming Soon’ announcement to Los Angeles. At the Holland Park branch, the firm designed a space where trees grow out of the floor and a courtyard roof fills with bubbles; at Clerkenwell Green there’s a subterranean event space; in the Lisbon space an Yves Klein Blue ceiling and signature 1,000 indoor plants and trees. Only the London Fields space is designed by someone else, and then by sister company Cano Lasso, but it shares the same bold design credentials—see its impossible to miss futuristic façade – and maybe equally as radical on-site nursery and childproof café? 

But beyond the outward design co-founders, Rohan Silva and Sam Aldenton had two other major principles in play: community and culture. The people who get to populate this environment are as important as the pot plants and pops of color. Second Home curates its community, aiming for a mix of start-ups, not-for-profits (it offers charity memberships), corporates, creatives, and entrepreneurs. Each inspiring, supporting, and collaborating with each other. Then there’s the culture piece, the third angle to this design-community triad; Second Home gets how ideas sustain us as much as people and place. Overlapping its space as workplace is space as creative venue, with an active cultural program that puts authors, podcasters, thought leaders, entrepreneurs, and innovators in front of its members and the public. 

Collectively that greenery, the doing good piece, the feeding of curiosity and connection, are all about sustaining our wellbeing, in the same ways as the yoga sessions, running clubs, and even surf lessons on offer depending on the venue. Second Home weaves in all the multiple threads of our working lives—the design of our environment, the people we get to connect with, the culture that gets to feed us—and throws them out into as much as a real-world context as its principles allow. But there’s some fantasy at play too when you enter its doors.

(NB: There’s a special place in our heart for Second Home’s tightly curated bookstore Libreria (in Spitalfields & LA) and the poetry bookstore at the Holland Park branch. Check them out too. They probably shouldn’t be in brackets.)

To find out more: Website, Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook

Two Chairs | A Conversation about Thoughtful Therapy with Alex Maceda

I’ve sat in uncomfortable chairs in rooms with badly painted walls. I’ve awkwardly handed over a cheque or counted out cash at the end of a session. I’ve missed weeks of help because scheduling hadn’t worked out with the shape of my week. I’ve stumbled down stairs afterwards crying and fled to my car for solace. I’ve found people, then dropped them when it didn’t work, but made sure that I felt like I was the cause of the ending and not them. All of the above, all of it is wrong, but all of it is what can happen in our experience of therapy. 

We are huge advocates of the practice of therapy and have been in and out of it (between us) for most of our adult lives. Sitting with a therapist has saved us again and again. We’re happy to spread the cause that #therapyiscool, and we’re in the business of making all our mental health tools, including talk therapy, more present in our lives.

But as we do this, we also need to acknowledge that the model of how therapy is given—not the content or the relationship parts—but all those things around it such as booking, payment, design, and fit, make it really, really hard to have a good experience at best and to get the help we need at worst. We pay more attention to how we go for a haircut, then how we go for therapy, and that makes no sense at all. 

That’s why we were relieved to discover Two Chairs, a San Francisco start-up (hold the judgement) that’s making therapy all about you in all the ways that it hasn’t been so far and really needed to be. That means when you step into one of their seven therapy clinics across the Bay Area, you enter a setting that actually has your back as a person in the world.

Here the design of the spaces matters, not just in terms of beautiful furnishings with yellow (brand color) flourishes amongst the muted tones, or the LaCroix stocked in the fridge, and carefully chosen Phaidon art books on the coffee tables, but in psychologically impactful ways too. How the chairs are arranged affects how comfortable you might feel as a therapy go-er depending on your life situation. The art on the walls can subtly shift your mood. The presence of plants actually makes for a calmer environment. 

Yes, therapy here is given the modern makeover it so, so badly needed, but it’s also been given one that takes into account what science is telling us about the environments and processes we need to best function as people. This is all Two Chairs Therapy’s Alex (Amac) Maceda’s domain. As the Director of Brand Strategy, Amac is responsible in her remit for interior design and client experience, working through all these details with not just operations and designers, but also clinicians and clients, who are folded into the process of what goes on before and after, as well as during a therapy session.

We had the opportunity to talk to Amac about why the model of delivery has been so broken but also why therapy in itself isn’t.

Claire: Let’s start with what Two Chairs is changing about the experience of therapy from the client’s side. Although we’re huge believers in therapy, we know that it’s really hard to just get the help that’s needed. How are you responding to this?

Amac: At Two Chairs, it’s all about access. We think of access as all the barriers that the system puts in front of you when you want to start care. The most classic example is that you are probably in crisis and you know that you want to go to therapy. You go online and Google. You maybe find 10 names. All of them are phone numbers only. Three of them call you back. Two of them don’t have availability. One of them can see you 30 minutes away at 2pm. Even when you’re opted-in, the system makes it so hard for you to get care. It’s such a disheartening experience, especially when you are engaging with it for the first time. 

Claire: It’s hard to say,“I need to go to therapy,”and it’s even harder when you are trying to do this, and it’s still not coming together.

Amac: For a lot of people by the time they are asking for help, they have probably gone through quite a bit. Also, a lot of people are afraid to ask for help that first time. Whether they don’t know where to start or fear the stigma, there are so many things that you find yourself up against. Imagine that after taking so long to get to that realization, there’s still 20 barriers that they didn’t even know existed. When Two Chairs first started, that was the problem that we were trying to solve: How can we make engaging in high-quality care as easy as possible for those seeking it. 

Claire: Can you talk me through how you are doing that in practice?

Amac: Some of the things we are doing are so simple, and take inspiration from different consumer brands, but are not typical in a health care setting. Things like online scheduling—it takes less than five minutes to schedule an appointment—and convenient locations—all of our clinics are located near major transit hubs. We want clients to be able to get in and out. We want clients to get on with their day and have the experience of therapy be as seamless as possible in daily routines.

Claire: You also have a unique offering in how the therapy journey starts way before clients are physically in a room with someone. Can you tell me about that intake piece?

Amac: We have a really dedicated care coordination team, and see them as a helping hand before clients even start care. They help clients think through questions like, “I don’t know if therapy is right for me, but someone recommended it,” to “how much can I expect to be covered with my insurance plan?” 

What I think is really unique with Two Chairs compared to private practice or other group practices is our emphasis on matching. It’s clinically proven that the strength of the alliance between the therapist and the client is the biggest predictor of success, rather than the therapeutic approach taken by the therapist. However, the current system is not set up to match well. 

Choosing a therapist can be really intimidating for anyone, and at Two Chairs, we try to make that as easy as possible. What that looks like from a client perspective is: you book an appointment online, receive a series of emails about what to expect in your appointment and then we send you a client profile to fill out. 

The profile is a detailed intake form asking what some of your goals are for therapy, some demographic information, and questions that try to get at what modality might work for you, including,“How structured of a thinker are you?” from very structured to not structured, and,“How much do you want to be challenged in therapy?” from pushing back to I want a therapist who listens more. We’re not asking you to choose a modality, but rather we’re getting at some of the qualities that might move you towards one type of care or another.

Claire: That’s an interesting technology-driven part of your approach that hasn’t had a place previously in therapy. How important is the personalized data-driven piece to the Two Chairs model?

Amac: The self-reported data from the client goes into a matching algorithm that has been built in-house by our engineering team, and is founded on the latest data science. But our approach is not founded on data only. That information forms a hypothesis that a consult clinician (a position unique to Two Chairs) uses for a first consult. They prep with all the intake data, but they use their clinical expertise in that first in-person appointment to move the data around and to form a recommendation based on this human interaction. It is that person who then matches you with an ongoing clinician. 

We match on so many different factors, from demographics, lived experience, and any specific preferences, like, “I can only come in at 8am in Oakland and I want to see a female who is middle aged.” We take this all into account when matching.     

Claire: So, they take what they understand as you as this person on paper and you as this person in space, then put you in contact with the person who would be your therapist? If someone then goes to that therapist, and that’s not a good match, do you then rematch them? That’s one of those broken parts of classic therapy, that bad matches do happen and then someone drops out of therapy because of this even though they still need help.

Amac: Yes, that is where the consult clinician is so powerful—they become that point of contact throughout the process if anything is wrong. But we do have an over 90% success rate with the first match. Clients tend to be in therapy for quite a long time, though our goal is not to keep you in therapy forever. We’re now just over two years old, and at this stage, we’re seeing clients come back for new courses of care, and to work on new issues in more proactive ways versus more reactive ways. 

Claire: I’m interested in this narrative of therapy positioned within life maintenance, like something you fit in on a regular basis. I’ve noticed that in the language of Two Chairs, that you are positioning therapy as a self-care tool rather than just as crisis management.

Amac: We have a good mix of clients who are brand new to therapy, and also those who are returning to therapy. On the new to therapy side, it’s been so powerful to see clients coming in for the first time who are telling us that they’ve been looking for a therapist, but that it had felt too intimidating, and that Two Chairs made it so easy. And on the flip side, we’ve had clients who have been in therapy for years who are coming more proactively, and treating therapy as a tool that is part of their life. 

Claire: Do you approach those two needs differently in the intake process given that therapists have their own specialisms, such as trauma or situational issues, or work more generally, in a style that can be more holistic and generalized?

Amac: Yes, there’s all this self-reported data on the client side but I think what people don’t think about as much with Two Chairs is that we also have all this self-reported data on the clinician side too. Our matching tool includes their clinical expertise in session and the data we have about the clinicians about how they self-report their stylist preferences, their studies and research backgrounds. 

Claire: How do you deal with the inclusivity piece? Therapy has been charged with being very narrow in its focus.

Amac: There’s a few different aspects to inclusivity, and certainly one of the hardest is financial. We’re still an Out-of-Network provider and we charge $180 for a session. That’s under market in San Francisco. But we aspire to be In-Network which we know will help a lot in terms of that financial piece. We know that the bigger we get the more power we have to be in network and then we can open access to more people.

On the other side, one of the narratives around therapy is that traditionally minority communities are less served within therapy and that gets back to our matching system. A big part of what we hear from clients is that we have a very diverse population of therapists across demographic and lived experience, qualities like gender, race, and sexual orientation. We consciously build for that. The feeling that someone understands your lived experience is very important, so we hire against that.

Claire: What happens after a therapy session? I always had this issue with therapy where I would sit in this non-descript room, see my therapist, and then come out with whatever raw feeling that I had, but then I have to go on the tube and get myself home. Can people hang out? Can they linger in the waiting room or sit with a cup of tea before heading back out into their non-therapy worlds?

Amac: I personally feel so passionately about this. Imagine that you cried during therapy and then you have to go to the bathroom to check your face and then sit in your car doing breathing exercises to collect yourself before going back to work. It doesn’t happen always, but for many of us, myself included, we’ve been there once or twice. For much of therapy, there’s no after. We think a lot about how you enter, but no one ever thinks about how you leave. 

That’s something we’re addressing in all of our newest clinics and bringing that concept into the space. We’re introducing decompression areas to the extent that we can where you have separate exits and semi-private areas where you can sit and journal. We have essential oils and rocking chairs, so you can take a few moments if you need to. Each of our therapy rooms have a small mirror right before you exit so you can check how you look. These are all the little thoughtful details that we know from experience or from our clients speak to where they are at in that moment and we try to pull that into the design of the space. 

Claire: Two Chairs didn’t go down the route of becoming an app but has invested in bricks and mortar and that in-person piece. Why is that aspect of just being in the room with someone so important. I know Two Chairs Founder Alex Katz has talked about Sherry Turkle’s Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age as a foundational text, and I wonder how this folds into your approach?

Amac: We know it’s clinically proven that in person is better. You lose so much when you are not in the room: like body language, tone, how a person is presenting, and how they seem to feel. 

We also know that we are in a generation where we keep talking about how much digital is taking over our lives, and how much interaction is going through a screen. To be able to interact in person, especially around topics that are so deeply personal and that a lot of clients are talking about for the first time, allows us to bring a lot more empathy and understanding to the experience. 

Claire: You have all the science backing up therapy, but you also have the science backing up the in-person piece. We’re at this moment that those two pieces are coming more and more together. 

Amac: Yes, there’s so much care and attention paid understandably to the clinical setting. The hard part goes on in the therapy room. But there’s so much across the whole experience that matters—being able to be in person, to walk into a space and to feel a sense of calm, to have a cup of tea and to sit there for a moment, to take an hour out of your day in a beautifully designed setting that addresses our needs as a person.

Claire: Do you find that therapy is as stigmatized as when you started even a couple of year ago? 

Amac: I certainly feel the stigma has decreased—but we have a long way to go. I find myself in a lot more open conversations about it, but know it’s a self-selecting group of people around me saying they go to therapy and that they love it. Even then, they are sharing in small conversations but not necessarily projecting it in public. 

As someone who has worked in brand and marketing at different companies, I find it to be a very unique and specific reflection of where we’re at culturally with mental health. I used to work in fashion, and we had tons of user generated content on social media—people were posting pictures and tagging our brand, being advocates for our sustainability efforts, sharing our mission with friends—they wanted to be publicly associated with us. That’s not quite the same at Two Chairs—yet. We had our first tag from a client testimonial for Two Chairs only a couple of months ago, which was so powerful and exciting. Even two years ago, it would be hard to imagine someone posting about their experience with therapy on Instagram and thanking their mental health provider. It’s happening, but it’s still rare. Which makes sense—how many people do you know are going to therapy and taking a selfie and saying, “I had a great therapy session?”

There’s still a little bit of a ‘coming out’ that people do when they start to publicly associate themselves with mental health, mental illness, and therapy. Even people who are very mental health positive are not necessarily saying I’m going to therapy every week. 

I was there six years ago, when I told a friend that I was in therapy and I remember feeling so scared. When they just said, “that’s great”, this relief washed over me. But even that makes such a big difference. It can be so powerful. 

Everyone is on their own journey with telling their personal mental health story, but we hope that the work we’re doing  at Two Chairs is making therapy a little more approachable, and creating more space so that you can talk to people about your experience with therapy when you’re ready. We want to humanize therapy more. In the past couple years there have been more and more mental health stories of famous people, often with this narrative of a grand fall from grace and then rise, which is inspiring, but not representative of most people’s experience. We’ve introduced an initiative called #TalkTherapy on our blog where we put more stories out there to show there’s a breadth of experience, that it’s positive or that it’s negative, sometimes life changing and sometimes it’s not, but we try to normalize the breadth of what happens to people in therapy.

Claire: How has Two Chairs been received on both sides, client and therapist, since launching? 

Amac: We’ve seen over 2000 clients in the San Francisco Bay Area over the past two years. Last month we opened our fourth clinic in two years within San Francisco. We are one of the biggest group providers in the Bay Area at this point. 

We are creating demand for therapy—we know this because a large percentage of our clients are coming to therapy for the first time, but there’s still a lot of latent demand for therapy. We’re the first consumer brand in a space that has existed for a long time and what we’re offering is a high-quality version of a something that is already there. We’re not trying to create something new that people don’t understand; we’re a better-quality version of what’s out there and we’re adding new aspects to it that make it more compelling for clients. In San Francisco there’s an emphasis on wellbeing, wellness, and self-improvement, and it’s really exciting to be in the generation that’s opening the conversation around mental health. 

To learn more about Two Chairs visit their Website, Instagram, and Facebook

Governors Island

You know when you’ve reached that overwhelming point and you’re in dire need of an escape? It happens to all of us. For me, on those occasions when I can’t take the vacation that I would like, thankfully I can escape to a local New York City gem: Governors Island. As soon as the weather permits I’m on the first ferry there.

This little historic island (172 acres to be exact) is located off the southern tip of Manhattan and depending on where I’m standing I can see Brooklyn, Staten Island, New Jersey or the Big Apple. Once used as military installation, Governors Island is now a seasonal destination which gets around 800,000 visitors per year.

With ample park space, I often just set up my own little picnic and just be. For these escapes I don’t need to take much. I may pack a book or a magazine, but on Governors Island I get to dine, snack and support local food vendors too. Being a small business owner I’ve learned the value of support and I’m happy to do so whenever I can. Island Oyster is my favorite. I will usually indulge in oysters and a glass of champagne while watching the hustle and bustle of the city. During the hot summer days, I’ll hang out near Little Eva’s Beer Garden before frolicking over to see the Statue of Liberty. After living here for eight years New York is still surreal to me. I used to dream of living here.

Having alone time is so very rare and I take full advantage when I get it. Being here makes me feel peace. I’m a lover of the sun and water and although there is no beach, it’s close enough and gives me the fuel I need to keep on trucking. When was the last time you walked barefoot on grass? I consider that to be a luxury. The last time I did was on one of my visits here in July.

It’s now November and I’ve loved this past season! It was my first time visiting during the Fall and it won’t be my last. I felt like there was always something different or new to discover. I visited their incredible pumpkin patch: cider stations, pumpkin decorating for the kids, pumpkins for purchase, and fall foods to nosh on.

Governor’s Island gives me the opportunity to let go, of all the stress I may have experienced prior to my visit or whatever issue is coming up for me. It gives me the space to regain my clarity and prepare to face things that may require my attention or make me feel uncomfortable. Problems don’t disappear overnight, but taking a step back can help. I can be silly. I can get out of my comfort zone and meet new people if I feel like it. On occasions when I need to release pent up energy or ease my anxiousness I put my sneakers on and go for or a run. This island is the perfect track. There have been times where I turn on my yoga app and dive right into a pose with no worries in the world. It never fails to transform me. I head home feeling like a brand new person.

Living in such a fast paced city, sometimes all I need is just time to be alone with my thoughts or have a moment to meditate while the breeze from New York City harbor hits my face. As the mother of two very energetic toddler boys, I escape here to feel grounded and centered. And as someone who is multi-passionate, finding down time is required to nurture this journey of life. Governors Island has become that place for me; it will always have my heart. 

To find out more, Website, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter (Please note that Governors Island is closed for the season and will reopen in Spring 2020)

Caveat

“Caveat makes smart entertainment for smart people.”

With New York’s Caveat, speakeasies just got smart. A non-descript black door with a ‘c’ logo leads down a staircase and a basement space that looks like the kind of nighttime-entertainment setting you are probably familiar with: an intimate theater with chairs and round café tables facing a stage and a bar backdrop. But there are hints of something else – a library and gallery also feature within the space, and a program that includes things like this: Chaos Theory: An Off-The-Rails TED Talk On The Underlying Chaos Of Our Lives and The Nerds & The Bees: Comedy And Data — What’s Really Happening In Modern Dating.

If you like anything produced by NPR, listen to podcasts and Audible on your commute, and get excited about deep heady dives into ideas, then Caveat, a performance venue in New York’s Lower East Side, might just be your spiritual home. Here you’ll always find the kind of material that gets your brain working, unashamedly so. There is nothing even slightly uncomfortable here about knowledge, maybe because its positioned in ways that are ‘fucking funny’ by co-founders Ben Lillie (a particle physicist  and co-founder of science podcast, The Story Collider) and Kate Downe (who has directed opera and Shakespeare, and led renegade museum tours). Nerdy stuff is made cool, high concepts accessible, and the esoteric absurdly wonderful.

Caveat produces its own shows, a combination of storytelling, interactive games, music, comedy and performance that range across science, philosophy, literature and academia and are hosted by university professors, anthropologists, philosophers, academics, neuroscientists and other brainy types. Live podcasts are also recorded here, authored both in-house like Nevertheless she existed and out-of-house like Monica McCarthy’s The Happier Hour. If you are finding this is your thing, you can also become a Member.

And its all with booze. Drinking kills brain cells, but here it supports the making of new ones (kind of), through smart programs designed to get your mind working and your belly laughing. Like a night of college all over again, but this time around it really is about that learning part and not just the drinking.

To find out more: Website and Instagram

The Makerie | In Conversation with Ali DeJohn.

Starting something takes a huge amount of courage and commitment. That’s particularly the case if you are an introvert. We chatted to Ali DeJohn, founder of the Makerie—a beloved roaming creative retreat—about how she overcame her fear and realized her dream of making a nourishing space that puts the emphasis on self-care as much as technique.

Claire: Have you always been a creative person?

Ali: Yes, I have always loved creativity. Ever since I was a child, I found the most joy in making things with my hands. I went to a preschool where creativity was a major focus, and I think that sewed some creative seeds. It’s something that I carried with me all my life. 

Claire: Did you continue your interest in creativity into adulthood? What were you doing before the Makerie?

Ali: I had a career in event planning. I worked for the Chicago marathon for seven and a half years and before that I worked for a small family-owned business doing all types of events. Both were great experiences. 

When I had my children, I decided to stay home. I had always loved the idea of being a stay-at-home mum and I was so grateful that I was in a place where I could do that. As I really wanted to infuse creativity into our home and into our family, I started reading blogs for inspiration, which were booming at the time. There was so much rich content and so many people caring about creativity that I found my community in that world. 

As much as I loved being at home with my children,I remember standing in my mom’s kitchen and bursting into tears because I felt so lost in who I was in the midst of motherhood. I had never really considered myself a driven career woman, but I realized how important it was to still maintain something of my own in this journey of being a mom. 

Claire: That must have been such a powerful realization. I have a young family and I relate to that idea of losing aspects of yourself and not realizing that it’s happening until you realize that it has happened. How did you deal with that?

Ali: Though I loved to make things, it was really hard to do that in the rhythm of a life with two young babies. So, when a creative retreat popped up on some different blogs that I read, I thought well maybe I could go to that. But another part of me said, “well you’re not really an artist, you don’t really deserve to go.” This inner dialogue went back and forth, and finally, there was just this little tug at my heart, which said, “just go, you should just try this”.

So, I went to my one and only creative retreat. I was terrified but what I found was profound. What I was making, the colors I was choosing, the aesthetic I found myself creating, helped bring me back home to myself. I remembered who I was again, and it was such a joyful, powerful experience to discover that. I also really loved connecting with other people who cared deeply about creativity. I came home from that experience so incredibly filled up.

Claire: How did you go from that first taster of a creative retreat to starting the Makerie?

Ali: There was no intention at all at that time of doing my own version, but, maybe unconsciously, I knew that one day I would embark on that journey too. During the creative retreat experience, I wrote down all the things I loved and areas that would have made it feel more complete for me.

I came home and told all my friends about it, as I wanted them to share in this enormous amount of happiness and inspiration that it brought to me. I searched for a similar experience close to home and when I couldn’t find what I was looking for, somewhere that I wanted to take them to, or that I wanted to go to myself, I decided to start my own version.

Claire: What did that look like for you?

Ali: It was a really big step. I spent a year meeting with different people in our creative community to share my idea, and everyone I met with thought it was a wonderful concept, that it would be well received, and encouraged me to go for it. Everywhere I turned I was getting a green light, but I was still hesitant to move forward because it felt scary and vulnerable, on top of me being a quiet, introverted person at heart. 

My husband grew tired of my waffling between doing it or not, so I had to have a heart to heart with myself. Would I rather try and fail? Or move on with my life wondering ‘what if’? At the end of the day, I realized I could live with failing if that’s what happened, but I couldn’t live with never trying and always wondering what could have happened.

Claire: How did you deal with that tension? How did you care for yourself over that time as you were making this big shift in your life?

Ali: I don’t think I did, and I still struggle with that self-care piece for myself. Honestly, I just poured my heart and soul into the first retreat. My kids were so little, and I don’t know how I did it. I just cared so much, and I still do, about creating a sacred and special space for people to practice and prioritize their creativity because it can be so hard to find in our daily rhythm and lives

Claire: You had a very clear vision for the shape of that pause that people could take out of their lives. What were the values that you were trying to bring into that first experience?       

Ali: My main aim was to find a setting that was really conducive to nourishment. The space, the venue, and the environment that people walk into are crucial. For that first retreat, we chose the Colorado Chautauqua, in Boulder, which happens to be three miles from my house. It is an amazing, sacred place with community workshop spaces, cozy cabins, a dining hall, and even hiking trails out the back door. 

It also has an iconic history. There was a Chautauqua movement over a hundred years ago, in which a group of people gathered together to celebrate secondary education, establishing pop-up camps where they would teach art and music and theatre. I felt like the Makerie spoke to the exact meaning of what the original Chautauqua was. 

Claire: How have things changed for you since that first retreat in Colorado? 

Ali: It’s been a huge organic journey that’s still continuing on its own path. The iterations have changed depending on various partnerships, the treasured teachers and artists I’ve worked with, and unique venue opportunities that have come my way. We offer varied retreat models in different locations, and have even hosted two retreats in France. I never dreamed of doing an international retreat so that was such a special opportunity.

Currently I am focused on smaller, more intimate retreats, with at the most 16 people. We feature one artist and a focused creative medium, so students are able to explore it on a deeper level. The model that we started with, allowing the participants to choose a variety of four half-day classes, was able to accommodate a large group and also involved more logistical feats. It was a playful and unique structure and maybe one day we’ll go back to that model. But for now, the smaller retreats are working well, particularly given that I now have two teenagers.

Each year we have anywhere from 3 to 7 retreats that are held across the country, and it changes every year based on different venue opportunities. Looking ahead to 2020, we have some special retreats planned in Boulder; we’re exploring a beautiful studio space in the mountains of Colorado; and planning another retreat in New Hampshire with paper flower artist Tiffanie Turner in the barn where she did an artist in residency. We’ll see what else next year brings! 

Claire: Your teachers are such a vital part of your retreats. What qualities are you looking for in the artists who come to teach at The Makerie?

Ali: It’s important that the artists I choose to work with not only have teaching experience, but have a nurturing aspect to them too. Inviting adults into a creative space requires a teacher that is skilled in nourishing creativity in adults. Our teachers are crucial in making the experience feel encouraging, inviting, safe and warm.

Claire: You also attract high-caliber artists to work with (such as the retreat with Rose Pearlman in Boulder.) There can sometimes be a hierarchy between the kind of artist who has gallery shows and those who do workshops, but here you’ve managed somehow to bring the two together.

Ali: I don’t think of choosing teachers in this way. I find them through various paths and take the time to research what they’re currently doing, the types of workshops they are hosting and explore if a collaboration feels right. I’m grateful the teachers I work with trust me with their gifts and I make a special effort to make sure they feel as nourished as our participants. If they feel cared for, they are going to be able to do their best job. I’ve had so many teachers comment that when they leave our retreats, they feel inspired and filled up, instead of exhausted, and I cherish that. 

Claire: How as a host do you create such a welcoming and accepting space for both your workshop leaders and your attendees?

Ali: For me, every step of the way counts and sends a message. From the second someone registers to walking through the door, I try to create a warm environment and an invitation to be part of something special. I want our participants to feel that they are loved and appreciated from the very beginning. When they arrive at the retreat, they are greeted with a hug and a genuine feeling of excitement that they are there. The teacher plays a big part in the role of creating a safe space by holding the room in a calm, capable and loving way. 

There’s also the sense of entering a space that feels inspiring. When I visit a potential venue, I know within minutes if it’s going to work. There’s not a magic formula other than my intuition and it’s tied to my aesthetic preferences and senses. It’s a similar feeling when you’re looking to buy a house. You can feel the energy and whether or not it’s right.

Claire: Your approach at the Makerie feels very person-centered. You lean into ideas of imperfection, slowing down, being in conversation with the person next to you. I love how you place people right next to craft in importance for how you conceive these events. Why is this hosting/ nurturing aspect such a large piece of it for you?

Ali: Someone once described their experience at the Makerie as coming home to themself. I thought that was so beautiful and exactly what I hope people feel when they come to our retreats. It’s a magical thing to watch the transformation that happens when people take time to nurture their creativity and make beautiful things with their hands. I care deeply about each person who attends our retreats and that’s the heart of everything I do. 

Claire: I have this strong belief that creativity and wellbeing are very strongly linked. My sense is that you do to. Why do you position these retreats within wellbeing and self-care rather than just as a creative workshop?

Ali: Creativity and self-care are almost the same thing. I look at creativity as one of the pillars of self-care, in addition to moving your body, making healthy food choices, taking care of your mind, and finding human connection. 

There are two things at play: One is nourishment from the inside, that people have to give themselves in this process; and then there’s nourishment from the outside, which is what I work hard to create. When you combine the two, it’s a magic combination of whole-body nourishment from head to toe.

Creativity is the cornerstone of what we do and a back door into mindfulness. It’s like yoga for the mind and a way for people to drop into themselves without having to sit in a formal meditation. I love how creativity can take care of your mind and soul in a similar way. 

Creativity can also be a way to connect not only with yourself but also with the person next to you. You can be making something and not even say a word, but someone can look at your aesthetic choices and gain an understanding into who you are and what you’re about. Your creativity speaks for you and you’re able to connect with people on a special level by what you’re creating with your hands.

Claire: Do you think that there’s been a shift in understanding of what creativity can do for people? I get the sense more and more that it’s a tool that’s sitting closer to wellbeing. 

Ali: Absolutely. Just look at the plethora of coloring books for adults. That in and of itself shows you how everyone is craving a quiet mind. The enormous amount of information we’re all being asked to hold in this day and age is impossible to keep up with. We’re all looking for a joyful out and can’t escape it all, but there are many ways to slow down and find quiet in beautiful ways. Retreats of every kind are popping up as more and more people realize how valuable it is to step out of your everyday rhythm of life to nurture something you love. 

Claire: Do you find that people coming to you are first time creatives, who had a similar sense as you that their creativity was somehow dormant and they want to find a way to reconnect with that, or are you finding its people who already have creative leanings that are very much alive who are wanting to develop that aspect of themselves more?

Ali: It’s all of the above, as very few classes require experience. All we ask is a willingness to come with an open heart.

Claire: Do you see yourself as an artist or an amateur? I ask this because often as creatives we take the role of facilitator and it can be hard to hold that space of creativity for ourselves.

Ali: I see myself as a joyful, amateur artist. I dabble in all kinds of creative endeavors - from knitting to embroidery to ceramics to drawing. I just completed 100 days of stitching, which was a fun and challenging practice. I love to try my hand at so many different things and don’t consider myself an expert in anything. I love making anything with my hands. 

Claire: Finally, how has founding the Makerie impacted you? We’ve talked about how setting up something like the Makerie impacts the people who come through the door, but I wonder how it has transformed you?

Ali: It has been such an unexpected journey that continues to teach me more than I ever imagined. Here are some of the many lessons I’m learning:

The Makerie gives me rich personal growth. When someone comes to a retreat, I might not know the underlying reason they are there and I have learned to separate out what I need to hold and what someone else is carrying. I used to absorb everything, including everyone’s collective energy at a retreat, and would come away exhausted and depleted. I have learned to lovingly hold a space for other people outside myself, helping me stay nourished and healthy. 

I’ve also learned that no one really knows exactly what they are doing. We’re all in the same boat of figuring it out as we go and that’s a refreshing thing to remember.

Keep doing things with a pure, heart forward intention. If I make a decision from this centered place, I know it will lead me to positive places.  

Take my own advice to nourish my own creativity. It’s strange how hard it can be to carve out time for something that brings me so much joy. Making by hand nurtures my soul and will always be part of my life. 

 To find out more about the Makerie, check out the Website, Instagram, and Facebook

826 Valencia

“826 Valencia is a non-profit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6 to 18 with their creative and expository writing skills, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write.”

Yes, you might think you have just found yourself in a quirky pirate store or an octopus’ playground or a secret spy society, but what you’ve done is landed right at the heart of a non-profit organization that exists to support the writing skills of under-resourced kids. Maybe purpose is like medicine and you need some sugar to help it go down (not sure who does that other than Mary Poppins and her charges but it’s an association that’s stuck). For 826 Valencia and its network of storefront chapters across the US, the sugar takes the form of magic and the imagination: each of their much-needed writing centers are fronted by spaces of whimsy and curiosity. 

From its start in San Francisco’s Mission District in 2002, a delightful sense of wonder has been built into how the organization has crafted itself: the first flagship that opened at 826 Valencia Street by educator Ninive Calegari and author Dave Eggers took the form of a pirate store mostly as a workaround for a local zoning issue that demanded some retail component. So of course, pirates need stores too. That model of locating the idiosyncratic in the everyday has inspired further storefront locations across the US; there’s the secret agent supply store (Chicago), a magic shop (Washington), a time travel mart (LA), a robot supply and repair shop (Michigan), a Haunting supply store (New Orleans), a Super Hero Supply Store (NYC), and maybe our favorite the Bigfoot Research Institute (Boston).

The original SF location has since been joined by two more in the city that capture this same spirit of make-believe: the wonderful Enchanted Forest and Learning Center in Mission Bay and the King Carl Emporium in the Tenderloin. In whatever shape-shifting form it takes across the US, 826 Valencia cultivates places of the imaginary and places of very real need, sitting quite naturally next to each other

Photo Interstice Architects

826 Valencia is one of the few places holding space for the imagination on our city streets and in our children’s lives. Think about its latest iteration in the Tenderloin in which a liqueur store associated with drug trafficking and anti-social behavior was converted into a playful apothecary of sorts and a light-filled writing space (also note the brightly colored, game-changing ocean-themed painted exterior). A space that might feel simply enchanting is actually a crucial vehicle for revitalizing a street corner, a community, and a child’s life. 

And it also might do this. 826 Valencia might put a spell on your own. Because you get to come in, not just to purchase unicorn horn’s polish, an eye patch or Lumber Jack Repellant, but to participate, to be one of the grown-ups bringing writing to kids who need it. This is where the magic of a different kind starts to happen. Because the core belief running through all these spaces is that kids benefit greatly in confidence, pride and ability from dedicated, focused time on their writing skills—that’s in obvious ways like crafting a personal essay and helping with homework but in other more exploratory ones like working out how to express themselves in poetry and the written word.

826 Valencia is run on volunteers like you who get to tutor in their writing programs or to donate services such as illustration, design, photography and audio editing in order to create the books, magazines, and newspapers that take the students' words beyond their schools and these storefronts.

With 826 Valencia, we can have magic on our streets again and in our kids’ imaginations. We even get to have it back in our own very grown-up lives.

To find out more: Website / Instagram / Facebook / Twitter

The Museum of Ice Cream

Ok, you probably have your assumptions about the Museum of Ice Cream that has been popping up in locations in San Francisco (now permanent), New York (very new and permanent), Miami, and Los Angeles. We had ours. We imagined it as an Instagram mecca, a hyperreal pink (that’s Pantone 1905C) paradise of shine and shimmer. Froth and frolics. And it was that: when we visited the SF version, we took photos with everyone else against backdrops of floating cherries and giant popsicles, made impermanent messages with pink magnets, crawled into mirrored rooms and climbed pink walls, and swam deep in the famous pit of colors. We hadn’t gone as far as some; we hadn’t coordinated our outfits and we hadn’t posed again and again for the perfect shot. But we had image-laden fun: we consumed a ton of sugar, visual and edible. We laughed and interacted and just spent a silly afternoon with our kids actually sharing in their joy and not watching from the sidelines as is sometimes the condition of modern parenting.

Though we did all this and came away feeling great (maybe slightly sick also), we have since realized we kind of missed the point. And maybe we weren’t, or aren’t, the only ones. See the Museum of Ice Cream is not really about ice cream (though there’s now a Target branded line that includes such things as Impeach-Mint so this argument might get a bit blurry). It’s also not about taking out your phone to capture the perfect image. It’s also not about screeching through oblivious of those around you as you try to craft the perfect time. What we have since learned is that that it is fundamentally about connection. That’s right, this experience, this museum, now handily rebranded by its founders as an ‘experium’,  has been engineered to bring people together, to be a kind of social glue, albeit of the creamy vanilla kind.

It was this episode of Yale associated podcast The Happiness Lab by Dr. Laurie Santos that started to shift our perspective, and as we dug deeper into the motivation of co-founders Maryellis Bunn and Manish Voramotivation, we found more and more that spoke to The Museum of Ice Cream as a counterpoint to our current epidemic of disconnection and the loss of spaces in our worlds that give us the opportunities to just be people together.

Here’s the irony: The Museum of Ice Cream was intended to be so spectacular that we wouldn’t be driven into the world of image-making on our phones, but rather we would be driven away from them. We’d want to immerse ourselves more in this fantasy world, for a short time tangibly all around us, because it was more real, more compelling, than those pixels. We would want to share that experience with those following a similar journey through the joyful labyrinthine spaces, as that would heighten our own experience for us. We’d want to escape our isolation and run into a place of collective joy. 

The Museum of Ice Cream has since pivoted and like all new concepts iterated on its theme. Yes, it’s a huge phenomenon that you may have visited, probably most likely have an opinion on, or are in the process of imitating (see the idiosyncratic experiential museums that it has since spawned), but it’s also still figuring itself out. Like Solo Nights (where you get in free if you turn up alone) and the phone free sessions; the Museum of Ice Cream concept is truly working when people connect within this fantasy palace, when they notice what’s actually around them and each other, and when the conversations started within the shininess go outside its walls, and sometimes that needs a phone-free helping hand.

The Museum of Ice Cream is a pop-up experience that’s meant to last more than the sugar high even as it gives you that high. It’s a careful line to tread, but we’re betting that as long as it's as much about the people it buoys up as the abundance of ice cream (or whatever the framework may become) that is consumed then this will stay a place of comfort that continues to soothe our disconnected lives.

To find out more: Website and Instagram 

Bite Unite | A cook and share community

“Modern facilities, a fully equipped commercial kitchen, business support, and a neighborhood cafe for foodie folk.”

We’re all now fully on board with the idea of co-working, of sharing work space for our laptop lives, but there’s a new idea in town, for co-working kitchens, shared cooking spaces for entrepreneurs who are happier holding a whisk and making creations of the edible kind.

The concept behind Bite Unite was first launched by amateur chef Patta Arkaresvimunin in Hong Kong in 2014, and four years later she brought it to San Francisco. Her co-working kitchens in both cities respond to a really pressing need: the huge cost barrier to creating commercial food enterprises. The set-up of just the cooking area can be prohibitive and rents, particularly in these cities, are in the make-up-numbers realm.

Bite Unite offers food entrepreneurs the chance to give it a low-risk-go by providing all the things: a licensed, insured and fully-equipped kitchen, as well as crucial software, business and community support to go along with this. 

Kitchen Memberships—which work exactly like co-working ones with full-time, part-time and day pass access (there are even food storage options)—also offer a readymade community in which to test out products, dishes and techniques.

At the SF location, there’s a pick-up service, with chefs making to order options like lunch and cookie sets and anti-inflammatory veg soup, and they get to host community dinners and pop-up events in the space—like Hawaiian food, Borek rolls, and sushi making. Current chef members we have our eye on include Prep School, a wellness cooking club and Kristie Chow of Sip Therapy

But Bite Unite extends its work beyond that of the incubator kitchen: it offers more on the public facing side too, like a pop-up series of eating focused events such as that recently offered by A Hard Pill to Swallow, a roaming dinner series that supports people of color in the culinary space. And Bite Unite functions quite simply as a community café: you can stop by the light filled space for the tastiest of mini-donuts and matcha nitro.

There’s a ton going on mostly behind the scenes but some of it is visible through light-filled windows and while seated at the central farm-table; with Bite Unite you get to choose how far you go on this food journey, all the way from creation to consumption.

To find out more: Website www.biteunite.com / Facebook @biteunite / Instagram @biteunite

18 Reasons

“18 REASONS - EMPOWERING OUR COMMUNITY WITH THE CONFIDENCE AND CREATIVITY TO BUY, COOK, AND EAT GOOD FOOD EVERY DAY.”

The Community Cooking School 18 Reasons has been a staple of San Francisco’s foodie Mission district for over a decade. Founded by Sam Mogannam as a non-profit extension of his popular family-run grocery store Bi-Rite Market to further his interests in food and community, 18 Reasons is now part of an esteemed community of businesses that includes one of the best ice-cream shops in the city and a 3-acre Sonoma farm.

18 Reasons is no ordinary cookery school though. Even that vague bucket of a place holder doesn’t entirely encompass what this storefront is. Yes, there’s the classroom at the 18th Street space that has a family-style dinner table set-up and a fully equipped teaching kitchen. It offers hands-on lessons on everything from eating more meatless and fish butchery, to food as medicine and mini-culinary boot camps on whatever it is you long to cook. It was here that I learnt how to really wash and prep leeks as well as how to eat mindfully. Both of equal value. 

If you want to go on a deeper dive into food culture you can attend their 6-month Farm School at Bi-Rite’s wine country outpost, which gets you into the nitty gritty of the food system including planting and harvesting and is taught by the company’s own buyers and farmers. For a more cerebral though equally as fun take (past programs have included the seminal question: ‘what if Wes Anderson made s’mores’), in October, there’s the Annual Food + Farm Food Fest, that has been running since 2013 and this year takes place at the Roxie Theater.

What most excites us though about 18 Reasons is how it situates food within community, at every practical level. There’s the cookbook lending library – an inspired idea as we cycle through multiple volumes each year and sheepishly hand them back splattered and floured to our local, maybe less understanding, civic library. Communal dinners are convened on the last Wednesday of every month, on open invitation to gather with friends and strangers alike over a dinner cooked by a guest chef. 

The jewel of their community crown though is the Cooking Matters program, which brings issues of food equity into the purview of what we consume, how we shop, and what we get to make for ourselves and our families. It’s a six-week series made available to low-income communities across the Bay Area on how to buy, cook and eat good food. Reaching 3,500 people each year and located within school programs, community centers, clinics, shelters, housing sites, and health centers, this free course covers nutrition as well as cooking skills. Anyone can volunteer to assist with this program – you just need an interest in food to apply. So, if you are looking for more meaning in your life, this might be the way to go. 

What we eat matters. Food matters. To our bodies, to our minds. To the people around us – our neighbors, our communities. To those who grow, harvest it and distribute it. To the environment with which we’re in a Faustian pact to produce it. On every level and in every way, though we often take each of these aspects for granted, food matters. 18 Reasons is the perfect corrective to our narrow way of approaching food; it tells all the stories that there are around it, many in ways that we’ve yet to hear but so badly need to.

To find out more: Website www.18reasons.org / Twitter @18reasons / Instagram @18reasons / Facebook @18reasons

NB: If you are not local, take a look at Feed Your People: Big-Hearted Big Batch Gatherings and the Food We Gather Around, co-authored by the people at 18 Reasons.

The Interval

“Fostering long-term responsibility.”

As humans we’re obsessed by time, with running through our days while also being in the moment.  We’re a little confused about it. To get a more balanced, holistic view head to San Francisco’s The Interval, a unique blend of a café, salon, museum, and the home of The Long Now Foundation. Here time is very much slowed down and experienced for what it really is: infinite. Well that’s the hope anyway: Those books you’ll find on the floor-to-ceiling height shelves contain the wisdom to rebuild civilization. 

The Interval is playing the longest of long games. Mechanical prototypes for a 10,000 year clock (yep, that blows our mind too) sit next to more contemporary, transient art exhibitions. Even the menu of bespoke drinks and food is time-inspired (see the perfectly named cocktail I’ve Grown to Love Life Too Much). But this is no gimmicky, temporal theme park. Rather this is a location that is thoughtfully (and maybe essentially) holding space for the idea that the long view matters. 

This is made manifest most clearly in the program of conversations and lectures with scientists, technologists, creatives and entrepreneurs across subjects that take in climate, astronomy, psychology, the arts, any discipline really that intersects with an idea of the long-term (an approach that maybe encompasses everything, or should at least if we’re wise about it). Recent talks, available to watch online, have included  primatologist Elizabeth Lonsdorf talking about how evolution and human behavior can be understood through studying primates, former NASA astronaut Ed Lu speaking to the importance of mapping our solar system, and historian Caroline Winterer on the idea of “deep time”, the billions of years we humans struggle to get our heads around. 

You’ll find The Interval on one of our favourite sites in San Francisco, Fort Mason Center—which itself has evolved and shifted over its lifespan from military base to its latest iteration of culture center. Nab the coveted nook room for a coffee or drink, and you’ll also get a spectacular view of the city’s prized bay and the famous bridge that marks it entrance—testaments themselves to the natural and human forces that have shaped this region’s recent history. Then feel the awe of it all, the years past and those to come, while sipping on an in-the-moment latte and pulling one of those books, like Jorge Luis Borges’ Funes the Memorious or Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber, from the shelves. Then just be here right now.

To find out more: Website www.theinterval.org/ Twitter @interval / Facebook @longnowinterval / Instagram @theinterval

The Codfish Cowboy x Angela Skudin

It's not the wine country that is the North Fork, it's not the exclusive soiree scene of the Hamptons, nor is it quite the suburban sprawl that takes up much of the rest of Long Island. Long Beach, New York is a two square mile city of 30,000 people whose lives revolve around the 3.5 miles of beautiful beaches and 2.2 mile long boardwalk. Surfing, sunny days, and stiff drinks are certainly themes you’ll see thriving in the Long Beach’s West End, but scratch a little deeper and you’ll find so much more to this little community.  

In the West End, where the bay and ocean are separated by two blocks, an impressive amount of restaurants, bars, and boutiques bring West Beech Street to life. In the midst of the action is an independent shop that draws you in with earthy smells and a friendly chalkboard whale letting you know they're open. This is The Codfish Cowboy. It’s the kind of store where you are guaranteed to find the perfect gift you went in to buy, and also sure to come out with your new favorite thing. Clever home items, a selection of clothing, unique jewelry, adorable kids stuff and more - it's all the vision of Angela Skudin, its founder and owner.

What makes the beachy Codfish Cowboy even more unique is that it's filled with pieces made by local residents. There's a very low chance you'll be able to go in and then find the item on Amazon later. Skudin prides herself on the fact that when you purchase one of her beautifully curated products, you are supporting a Long Beach maker. At the heart of her ethos is the notion of giving back; bringing something lovely into your life or home while supporting others, it's a win-win.

Here I talk to founder Angela Skudin for If Lost Start Here about what drove her to start The Codfish Cowboy:

What is The Codfish Cowboy and how did the idea for it come about? 

I’m classic for my impulsive “great ideas” that fully lack any research, plan, or thought. If you put a visual perspective to it, imagine it like being a squirrel in a cage. The Codfish Cowboy was an impulsive idea that came from the desire to have a shop in my current hometown that reminded me of the shops I love visiting in my original hometown in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I’ve always been “the best gift giver” in my family. I’m told I have the ability to choose the perfect gift for anyone. At the Codfish Cowboy you can find something for a newborn baby, a bachelorette party, housewarming, 80-year-old Aunt Betty. 

Why did you decide to open the store in the West End of Long Beach?

When I moved from Tulsa to Long Beach 16 years ago, I lived in the West End with my now-husband. The West End has a vibe and energy that’s undeniable. The Codfish Cowboy is now part of that vibe. 

You are very supportive of various causes, from local makers to crucial environmental issues.  Can you talk about how you decide whose work to display and sell and how those two passions intersect? 

My mother is an immigrant from Germany. My grandfather was a maker. He owned his own furniture-making business. My family still has the original couches he made with his own two hands half a century ago. You can’t get quality like that from a factory. That business made my family who they are today. It paid for private school for all 3 of his children and allowed my family to own a home in America. It’s important to support makers. In turn, we get handcrafted quality items that have a story and help a family. 

When I curate, I want to know that story. I want to pass that story on to my customers. We can spend our money anywhere we chose. It feels good to spend it on a piece of handmade art from Long Beach high school’s art teacher whose family lives 3 blocks away and rolls by in their beach wagon waving hello as they pass the store. 

Growing up, my family focused on helping others and making sure my sister and I knew what paying it forward felt like. We were a middle-class average family with 2 hard-working parents. Every Thanksgiving my family adopted a family in need and brought Thanksgiving to that family. Every Christmas we adopted a family in need and brought wrapped gifts and Christmas dinner to that family. I’ll never forget those moments. When you are a kid, everyone is equal. When we dropped off the presents and food, my parents would converse with the parents and my sister and I played with those kids like they were our long-time friends. There was no Rich vs Poor, no sense of entitlement. We were all equal. I carried that feeling with me and it’s never left. 

As far as environmental issues go, I have always been that person that’s picking up trash in a field, grabbing rogue plastic bags in the ocean or making sure all the soda can rings were cut so a duck doesn’t get strangled. I’m the crazy lady that washes plastic straws and reuses them. I have had the same bag from Ikea for 8 years now. To me it’s common sense….we only have one Earth and it’s our responsibility to make sure she is around for the comfort of the next generation.

What inspired you to begin your apothecary line, “tribal life alchemy”?

Karen Michel, one of my partners, was the inspiration and soul of Tribe Life. One day she said to me, “we should do our own pure essential oil product line,” and I said, “absolutely not.” Fast forward 2 months later we had Tribe Life. Karen is a basically a wizard and can do anything. I give her my ideas for graphics and she can read my crazy brain. With Tribe Life, we really wanted to ensure the quality of the products we were offering to our customers. We live in a toxic world. If I can offer pure products that have therapeutic properties to our customers, I’m going to be able to rest easier. That’s what Tribe Life Alchemy is about. 

How would you say The Codfish Cowboy has evolved over the years? 

I wanted to build our audience organically. No paid ads (because there simply was no budget for that). I started The Codfish Cowboy with $25,000. The build was done by myself and my awesome handy FDNY husband Casey. The materials were repurposed. I did a lot of dumpster dives to get the wood for the walls and molding. There are pieces of Long Beach homes on the walls of The Codfish Cowboy and I think that’s pretty cool. We are up to right around 3k on our Instagram followers and we are looking to launch our online sales this fall. I’m excited to see that number grow. 

What has been the most surprising thing about running the store? 

The perception other people have about your business. Just because you have a store does not mean you are rich and just because I’m not physically standing in the store does not mean I’m not working. When you own a brick and mortar your job never ends. There’s a ton of back end work, vendor meetings, research, buying, etc. I’m one person. I can’t be everywhere all the time, but I try. 

What is your favorite way to spend a day in Long Beach, aside from being behind the counter? 

Shopping local, eating local, riding my beach cruiser on the boardwalk, and soaking in the sun on our beautiful beaches.

Follow TheCodfishCowboy on Instagram and visit them at 891 W Beech Street Long Beach, NY

& visit my other West End Picks:

Blacksmith’s Breads 870 W Beech street 

Dough Hut (right next door) 891 W Beech Street

Island Thyme 780 W Beech Street

Jetty Bar and Grill 832 W Beech Street

Lost at Sea 888 W Beech Street

RaKang  895W Beech Street

Shine’s Bar 55 California Street

Speakeasy 1032 W Beech Street

Lucky Penny Parlor & the World's Smallest Postal Service x Lea Redmond

“Lea’s storefront project is a place where matter and meaning meet through found object conversations and storytelling.”

At times of darkness, what do we reach for? What do we try to bring into our lives? Our go-to’s are probably around activism, around self-care, around community. But wonder? Curiosity? Sometimes we put them in the ‘superficial’ bucket, the one reserved for whimsy, for frivolity, for later. We leave them alone. They are coping strategies LITE. 

Spending a morning with artist Lea Redmond at Lucky Penny Parlor in Oakland you realize you’ve got it all wrong. Finding wonder is deeply purposeful. To abandon it now is to abandon something of our humanity, of our possibility.

It’s ok to not feel entirely comfortable when you come into Lucky Penny Parlor. What is it really? How do you engage? Can you touch this? You’ll have these questions and others. And Lea is fine with this – she’ll lead you through it, spend time with you so you can reach for understanding, bring your experiences into hers. There’s a beauty in questioning, a kindness in the suggestion of clarity. Lea did this with my daughter and I – as we touched things on display, grasped for information as we tried to orientate ourselves, she provided the scaffolding for a connection. Over mint tea, in carefully chosen cups, we found our way in.

There’s a therapy of sorts to be found here in Tea Cup Consultations in which Lea choses a cup from her extensive collection and you bring something from your own life to discuss over tea, and the staged Tabletop Shows, dioramas that encapsulate narratives and even the universe (upcoming shows are about hummingbirds and a choose-your-own-adventure through the solar system). These intimate services provide the framework for poetic conversations, exploratory meanderings and immersive play. 

Lea is interested in the material that’s in front of us of another kind though, of what’s available to us in the ordinary and every day that has a tangible quality, the concrete items that are all around us, all the time, and that we no longer see. Look through the hundreds of tiny drawers that make up Lea’s Wonder Cabinet and which contain the detritus of our everyday lives – tags, bottle tops, flea market finds, and household artifacts. Here you are taken right back into the space of seeing again, of living in the pause. Meaning here sneaks up on you, revealed by delight and humor and amusement.

Maria Popova, a similar collector of interesting (in ideas rather than things) encourages: “Be curious. Be constantly, consistently, indiscriminately curious.” We had that quote in mind talking to Lea and wandering through Lucky Penny Parlor which houses her personal collection of curios and from which she curates her own singular world.

Two doors up from Lucky Penny Parlor, is a work in process, the very soon to be first outpost of Lea’s World’s Smallest Post Service and the latest iteration of her 10-year tiny mail project. A space of serendipity – Lea happened upon the perfect-sized vintage post office front to pull it all together. From here Lea and her team will send out tiny – as in seriously tiny – packages into the world. 

It’s a truly magical space that captures our love of the absurd and the cute, as well as our need for connection, our longing for the analogue. With this project, Lea is returning to something long lost – our wonder at receiving things in the mail that are not in the form of a bill or bulk entreaties. Can you imagine finding one of these tiny letters or parcels in your mailbox. Can you imagine that moment being in your day? Aren’t you smiling now just thinking about it? Or maybe you are thinking about who you can send something to? 

For Lea the World’s Smallest Post Service is all about bringing not just ‘tiny mail magic’ but ‘more wonder into the world’: “We propose to create an enchanting, museum-like, open-to-the-public brick & mortar home for our World's Smallest Post Service. We want to make a place, a magical coordinate on the globe where people can count on wonder and kindness.”

Lea has constructed her world too so that we can reach for it wherever we are – with products by her design company Leafcutter Designs. Like Lively Matter a deck of prompt cards to encourage creativity and play through ‘a grand adventure of the ordinary’, and that provide a much-needed break from our screens, and the Letters to My Series, which we’ve handed to grandparents and friends, to capture the stories they may want to tell but have had no format to do so. Most recently, Lea created Everyday Offerings, which holds a way forward in our daily lives.

From the outside, all this, these storefronts and projects, Lea’s vision for crafting this magical way of living, look fun but it takes hard work, a serious and keen drive, to sustain this creative space. It looks easy because whimsy is a kind of sleight of hand, a magic of sorts that leads you out of the mundane and into belief. You don’t see the trickery (read commitment and focus) that makes it happen, that makes non-obviously functional spaces, exist in the world. 

Yes, we need independent cafes and bakeries, coworking spaces and stores. But we need this other non-definable space on our high streets – of inspiration, wonder and play. Of something else. That’s a need that is not being fulfilled in our grown-up lives. We’re losing our joy, and we need to badly capture it again. We’re lucky in that we get to visit this world of Lea’s creation. For a short while. To walk within this vision of what light existing in darkness can actual be, the physical form it can take and its importance in sustaining our lives. There’s nothing superficial in that.

To find out more: website www.leafcutterdesigns.com / Instagram @lucky_penny_parlor / Facebook @LeafcutterDesigns

neve & hawk x Kris Galmarini

At a moment when we’re all being pushed to do more and more online—more apps, more sharing, more webinars—neve & hawk founder, Kris Galmarini is making the case that actual brick-and-mortar spaces matter. In many ways, she doesn’t need her brand’s flagship location in Marin County. Neve & hawk has a thriving online presence for its super cute California- inspired, family-loving clothing line. But Kris, herself, does need it, in a very personal way, because community matters (like really matters) to her.

Neve & hawk’s storefront goes beyond just selling something (though we totally want to buy EVERYTHING they create), to actually building something. “We want it to be a place people want to come. We want people to come into the store, and feel better than when they walked in. We want them to interact, to feel inspired, to leave the store feeling better about shit. We’re in this community and we want people to feel good.”

Kris’ mission to bring people into the space has led to a new use for the back section, a café headed by the female-backed coffee brand Lady Falcon. From mid-August, the flagship will be the site of pour-overs, crafted coffees and a reason to hang out. It’s “another way to have people in there and to bring out the community.” This builds on other offerings: a monthly workshop teaching screen printing and chain stitching where people can learn how to sew, or mend, or distress something, as well as a Quarterly Artist series, which gives creatives a start and someone who believes in their work.

This focus on human interaction and holding physical space goes hand-in-hand with who Kris is as a person. Yes, she’s an introvert who might just be hiding in her studio when you visit the store, but she also believes deeply in people, in their worth, in their authenticity, in their talents.

This starts with the design and production process around the clothes themselves: which are made and sourced (from the inks to the manufacturing process) in San Francisco, Sonoma and Marin and are given a fair market price which reflects this intentionality. At all these steps, Kris never forgets that “there are humans who are making it”, that they have value too, creatively and monetarily. “Shopping can be a thought-process”.

The sentiment extends to Kris’ sense of responsibility to her clients: “Community and loyalty go hand in hand.” Both on and offline she has actively fostered a community that people can be part of and has allowed it to grow organically.

And it absolutely extends to how Kris presents (or rather doesn’t) as a person. She doesn’t play the game we’re all being pressed into playing. At a moment, when we’re collapsing our brands with our personhood, when our sense of self is tied up with clicks, when our lives need post-production effects to make them good enough, Kris is working hard to push back. And we are so grateful for that perspective: for someone who is allowing the masks to drop, for her soul to show, and proving this idea that who we are matters much more than what we know (borrowing from two of Kris’ go to quotes).

If places can be a person, and a person can be a place, neve & hawk’s flagship would be it.

To find out more: website www.neveandhawk.com/ Instagram @neveandhawk / Facebook @neveandhawk

NOIR CITY | Dark City Wanderings

It’s like a religious revival tent meeting, but for cynics. Instead of their Sunday best, they wear their vintage 1940s finest. Rather than speaking in tongues, they wax on and on about who played what character in whatever desperately underrated classic. And Communion comes in the form of a big dose of black and white on the Castro Theatre’s massive screen. You’ll leave sated, exhausted, but you’ll be back tomorrow night for another double feature, day-job alertness be damned. If you’re a true acolyte, you’ll see all twenty-some movies over the ten days of NOIR CITY, the annual film festival of the Film Noir Foundation.

I’ve always loved film noir. My parents apparently never thought it odd that an eleven-year-old couldn’t get enough of The Maltese Falcon; was inviting her (probably confused but at least good-humored) friends over to watch Rear Window; and once VCRs became a thing was trotting home from the movie rental shop with whatever sounded dark: Double Indemnity, Out of the Past, The Third Man. My dad had a particular soft spot for Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade, and together we tried in vain to piece together the plot of The Big Sleep, which even having read the book multiple times is incredibly hard to follow (Raymond Chandler himself allegedly said the same). But it looks superb.

Eddie Muller, founder of the Film Noir Foundation and organizer of NOIR CITY since its inception, has summarized film noir thus: “The men and women of this sinister cinematic world are driven by greed, lust, jealousy, and revenge—which leads inexorably to existential torment, soul-crushing despair, and a few last gasping breaths in a rain-soaked gutter. But damned if these lost souls don’t look sensational riding the Hades Express.”

So... Did noir make me a cynic, or did something already in Young Me gravitate toward this material, finding there something that made sense of the Evil That Men Do (or, in my case, that mean junior-high-school girls do)? My experience in the music world leads me to suspect the latter—that I was born this way, and that noir gave my imaginings form. And what a form!! Colossal glamour, pithy wit, underworld allure... Who wouldn’t want to live in a world where you could be sparklingly eloquent, successfully self-employed, adept in a fistfight, and irresistible to the ladies even if on the looks scale you’re more Fred MacMurray than Kirk Douglas?

Seeing these movies at the Castro Theatre, alongside fourteen hundred fellow travelers, takes the thing to a whole new dimension. Each evening opens with live music on the fabulous Castro Wurlitzer (recently replaced with an even more elaborate pipe/digital hybrid organ), then an acutely articulate, written-note-less introduction by the Czar of Noir (the aforementioned Mr. Muller), then the dramatic opening of the curtain to start the first feature. Each year has a theme (my personal fave so far was “international noir”), and Muller and his fellow programmers do their best to balance a few better-known titles that most people still will never have seen on the big screen, lesser-known titles that extremely few will have witnessed on the big screen, and one or two that have been saved from actual oblivion, often through a restoration directly funded by last year’s festival ticket sales. This is the goal of the nonprofit that is the foundation: to save noir films on 35mm, as they were meant to be seen. Say what you will about the viability of actual film as a medium for mass exposure to “film”—Eddie’s got a counterargument ready for you.

At this point there are numerous satellite NOIR CITY fests around the country, but San Francisco is where it all started, and where Muller grew up. He still lives here, and treats the SF iteration as the mother ship that steers the rest of the fleet. I’ve read Muller’s introduction to film noir, Dark City: The Lost World of Film Noir (1998), and have for the last couple of decades made little pencil checks next to the titles I’ve personally seen. Dark City Dames: The Wicked Women of Film Noir (2001) is the clearest manifestation of Muller’s career-long vendetta to bring the femmes of noir, fatale or otherwise, from the clichéd sidelines into the spotlight. I dutifully enrolled in Muller’s “continuing studies” course at Stanford University, “The Politics, Passions, and Personnel of Film Noir,” and I even successfully muscled my way into the gang’s inner circle, helping with the ticketing for the annual SF fest.

But at the end of the day, after you’ve completed all the reading and pondered all the theorizing and copied all the fashions and cut way too much school to watch Dialing for Dollars, the point is the theater experience. This is the “why” of the foundation: to save the films, and to show the films, at venues like the Castro. There’s got to be a really compelling reason why we keep coming back to a joint that holds 1,400 seats, puts on shows that last four or five hours, and has less than ten toilets total.

I’ve got a lot of NOIR CITY memories, but a couple stand out. The first is actually from NOIR CITY XMAS, a teaser show that happens a couple of weeks before the holidays, also at the Castro, as a kind of appetizer for the main fest coming in January. It usually features a bleak Christmas movie (I know, right?!) but this year it was Holiday Affair, a mostly-comedy with the odd bleak moment. I remember laughing so hard I was crying, right along with the crowd, fully realizing that if I’d been watching the thing at home on DVD, I would have been bored, maybe even wouldn’t have finished. I described it to Eddie the next day and he said of course that was right, that’s the power of experiencing movies in the theater. You’re physically, logistically committed, which makes you give yourself over to the larger emotive sense in the room. Sadness, injustice, intrigue, romance, glamour, and, yes, comedy are massively, massively magnified. See my religious-revival-tent metaphor that opened this piece.

This is what will be lost if the old-fashioned moviegoing experience evaporates.

Another very powerful memory of NOIR CITY is not even of being in the theater, but of reviewing the pictures taken by the photographer one year. I scrolled through crowd shot after crowd shot—hipsters, non-hipsters, old people, the occasional celeb (Chris Isaak and Jello Biafra have been noted attendees), and views of the stage showing Muller doing his thing. What stopped me in my tracks was a shot of what Eddie sees from the stage. There must be no sight on earth more satisfying than an ocean of folks who’ve paid their money and made the trek to love and support your dream, and gain something soul-satisfying that could be delivered, for us dark cynical believers, no other way.

Photographs by Rachel Walther © 2019

To find out more: website www.noircity.com / Instagram @Noir.City / Facebook @filmnoirfoundation / Twitter @noirfoundation

MOAB | Feeling Beloved

“And did you get what

you wanted from this life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.”

— Raymond Carver

Moab, in Southern Utah, is an enchanting town full of contrasts. Nestled in the Southwest desert, it is an area of stark but ethereal beauty. Red cliffs rise dramatically out of the flattest of plains, as if sculpted by some other-worldly hand. 

As a land where dinosaurs once roamed, where the Wild West played out, markers of the past are everywhere. Serene hikes among stunning, primitive, red rock formations compete with modern, high-octane adventures, tempting the senses. Moab is a place to discover yourself in the present, but with a deep sense of being cradled by the past. A place to feel beloved on the earth

The town is the gateway to two national parks, The Arches and Canyonlands. The former has over 2,000 Arches, with the iconic Delicate Arch drawing endless streams of visitors. The park is a mystical wonderland of gigantic sandstone structures, eroded monoliths, spires and colossal rocks, balancing precariously; somehow daring you to approach, to wander among them, but forever imprinting a deep awe and respect for this ancient ecosystem upon you. For indeed, over 65 million years of intense geological forces created this surreal, fragile land.

A visit to the Canyonlands is equally as mesmerising. The Colorado River and Green River combine here, dramatically carving out the land. Majestic canyons, mesas and buttes formed over millions of years invite the visitor deeper into the desert. It is a place of reflection, a place where solitude can be found among its vast, primitive deserts. Traces of the past hang in its atmosphere. Rock art from hunter-gatherers from the Late Archaic period (2,000-1,000 BC) is found alongside petroglyphs from the Ancestral Puebloans, and some images are dated to after 1540 AD, when the Spanish re-introduced horses into America; a veritable gallery of mankind’s visions unfolding over time.

Moab is a land of awe and wonder, where dinosaur tracks are as ubiquitous as Native American petroglyphs. Time transcends. As the desert sun burns intensely overhead, you can somehow feel the ground shake as a gigantic Brontosaurus tears trees from the land.

As the night sky falls, a curtain of black dramatically descending, you are drawn into the thundering hooves of the Wild West days, debauchery and gunfights escalating in the town squares. Ultimately though, it is a magical place where time loses relevance, a place to feel beloved on earth.

To find out more: website www.discovermoab.com / Instagram discovermoab / Facebook @discovermoab / Twitter @Visit_Moab_Utah

MARFA | Land of the Lost

“Don’t drop it!!” I yelled in mock alarm.

I’d just mentioned to the proprietor of Many Stones, the rock shop in Terlingua, Texas, that my mom and I had driven down from Marfa. Mostly in good fun, but also with a healthy dose of genuine mockery, he was holding up a work of contemporary art for our admiration and possible purchase—which was, of course, imaginary. He’d likely perfected the joke over many years: a rock shop owner, selling empty air! These rubes will believe anything!

Grizzled locals ribbing the art crowd who helicopters in, lingers just a while, and jet-sets out: Is it a cliché if that’s what they genuinely think? And who are art tourists to fling around words like “cliché,” hmm?

My mom and I spent three days in Marfa, and we saw most of what it has to offer the out-of-towners. Most tourists come to see the art—expansive installations by Donald Judd, Robert Irwin, Dan Flavin, and other confrères of 1960s minimalism, most of the works permanent and overseen by Judd’s Chinati Foundation. Almost everything is advance-ticketed in order to keep the crowds similarly minimalistic. Other tourists come to see the famous Marfa Lights, a ghostly atmospheric effect. Yet other tourists, for instance Anthony Bourdain, come for the food and continue on to Big Bend National Park, which is even deeper in, on the Mexico border. Bourdain would be dead before that episode aired. Judd died before his time, too.

The great irony of Marfa is that it isn’t really trying to be anything other than what it is: a tiny, dusty Texas town. The city of Marfa website pitches it as “more than just a place. . . . It’s a state of mind,” but my mom and I agreed that that gives the wrong idea. The folks who run the town and the art foundation really do want to keep Marfa a smallish, authentic (in the true-to-itself sense of the word, not the external-culture-police sense) place where tourism doesn’t make life insufferable for the locals. Donald Judd left New York for Marfa because he dug it as it was: small, remote, cheap. It’s the outsiders who insist on projecting onto it all sorts of loco imaginings.

My initial trip research turned up these two young ladies who sought it out as a backdrop for their fashion show:

http://livvyland.com/2017/02/02/texas-road-trip-marfa-big-bend-national-park/

Then there’s this, which makes me think “ugh”:

http://houston.culturemap.com/news/travel/12-20-15-12-hours-in-marfa-via-private-plane-art-dinner-and-desert-fashion-on-a-whirlwind-getaway/#slide=0

I have no words for this:

https://www.vogue.com/vogueworld/article/marfa-myths-festival-texas-mexican-summer-ballroom-street-style-desert

I mean, if you’ve spent many a summer in tiny midwestern towns, as both my mom and I have, there’s nothing . . . magical and transformative about being back in one. In fact, it’s familiar, comfortable. People wave at you when you’re out for a run. Shop owners have time to chat.

And now that we’re on the subject, I’m actually highly suspicious of art people who profess too much astonishment at experiencing a remote place. How many art hotshots in New York or L.A. or San Francisco actually grew up in the metropolis, hmm? And indeed, while waiting around for our tour of The Block, Judd’s former home/compound, I struck up a conversation with a guy, who turned out to be a Local Kid Made Good: grew up nearby, cut his teeth as a Chinati tour guide, now is employed at the Smithsonian in DC, and was back in town for the holidays to see his family. He was taking the tour as an excuse to jaw with old coworkers.

Of course now that I’ve debunked the place, it’s time to admit that I did have a transcendent moment in Marfa. As a lifelong James Dean acolyte (who even made the long, lonely drive to Cholame on one milestone death anniversary to linger at the fateful spot on the highway, at the exact time of day of the crash, with the similarly besotted), I’d known for years that his last film, the epic Giant, was filmed in Marfa. He died just days after principal photography wrapped. What I hadn’t realized was that the Hotel Paisano, where my mom and I stayed, was where the cast had lived for the month-plus of on-location filming. Massive production stills plastered the lobby, and the hallways were filled with little gems for the inquisitive guest with time on her hands, for instance a photo essay by some guy who’d visited the remains of the train station in Maryland where Elizabeth Taylor’s character was shown embarking for Texas with Rock Hudson, her new husband.

It was decrepit now, and that made him sad.

At least there was still something to see. Nothing at all remains of the Reata mansion, which was only ever a facade to begin with—time and tide, fires and looters have disappeared it all—but the spirits of those film legends, all gone now, hovered everywhere for me in Marfa.

As you leave town, for sure stop to take a photo at Elmgreen & Dragset’s Prada Marfa (I bet the rock shop guy secretly loves the idea of that place! so snarky!). But also linger a while in the desert just outside of town and commune with the ghosts of the big ones—and I’m talking about Judd and Bourdain here, too—who likewise stayed a moment or longer, and for some of whom it was more or less a last stop.

City Lights Books | behind the truth

“City Lights is a landmark independent bookstore and publisher that specializes in world literature, the arts, and progressive politics.”

City Lights Bookstore is a literary landmark and a magical meeting place for intellectual inquiry. Open until midnight daily since 1953, City Lights is internationally known for its expert selection of books and for its impact on the history of free speech in America with the publication of Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and the subsequent trials. City Lights continues to publish avant-garde work, host regular events and readings, and be a beacon of inspiration for all writers and lovers of the written word.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti, the primary founder and caretaker of City Lights, turned 100 years old this year and San Francisco celebrated his incredible contribution to both this city and literary culture across the globe. Ferlinghetti is a widely read, published, and cherished poet and activist who continues to create and paint mystical worlds of the imagination.

Inspired by Ferlinghetti and City Lights, I wrote a poem to pay homage to this singular place of multi-faceted truth:

behind the truth

after ‘behind the cape’ by david larsen

behind the truth,

and growing numb,

fear floods

the misled head.

men of power

trick fear from

silence.

from

knowing

something

to

knowing

nothing.

now

the work of

untangling

knots of

misplaced, misused

lies

i start again.  

To find out more about City Lights Books: Website www.citylights.com / Facebook @citylightsbooks / Instagram @citylightsbooks/ Twitter @citylightsbooks

Fiber Circle Studio: A conversation with Alisha Reyes on how making saved her

“Fiber Circle Studio, located in Sonoma County, CA, focuses on offering fiber related workshops, and equipment in the areas of weaving, spinning, fiber processing, sewing, dyeing, knitting, crocheting and felting. Our goal is to provide all levels of fiber artists, from new to expert, with all the resources, tools, knowledge and equipment to explore one’s creative journey in a place of community, support and inspiration.”

Some of us know our purpose right from the get-go; many of us don’t, we stumble on it. For Alisha Reyes, founder of Sonoma County’s Fiber Circle Studio, it took knitting a pair of socks at age 17 for her life to light up. Literally. At that time she was struggling with depression and ideas around self-worth, and it was that one seemingly tiny act that gave her hope.

Since that moment, Alisha has actively pursued workshops, mentors and teaching experiences to gain mastery of knitting. As she did so, she found she was good at it, like really good. When that pursuit wasn’t quite enough, Alisha headed to a farm in upstate Washington to understand the entire process of fiber, like from the sheep stage on, including spinning and dyeing. She was that committed!  Alisha is now a prophetess of the fiber arts but she’s also super approachable and down-to-earth and gets that even if you don’t self-identify as a maker, you get to do it too. 

About 18 months ago, at the beginning of 2018, all Alisha’s knowledge got poured into a bricks and mortar space in Cotati, called Fiber Circle Studio. For months before the opening, Alisha collected weaving looms, spinning wheels, sewing machines and drum carders, which all got stored in her 700 square foot home (there’s that commitment showing up again) and which now fill this space instead. She faced down all those barriers to starting an actual space for creatives: like insurance, rent, parking, licenses, you know all the scaffolding that can make our dreams but sometimes make the kind of walls that we don’t want to be building instead. Then there were, and still are, those more personal issues to contend with like money, time, experience, self-value and family time, as well as the reality of being only 28 years old and a mother of two.

Alisha’s getting it done though despite these hurdles. Fiber Circle Studio is a sweet wonderland of making. There are areas for all the fiber arts, like weaving, fiber processing, dyeing, crochet, and knitting, a kitchen station for dyeing, a couple of tables to gather and workshop, even a library of books about process available for members. As Alisha will tell you, “It’s a busy life, but to have all of these incredible things going on in my life is so fulfilling!’ 

Fiber Circle Studio is designed to support people however they come to the fiber arts. Sometimes that’s with a workshop that starts someone weaving, trying something new, and using their hands again. Building confidence and interest. Or offerings for people at the intermediate and advanced levels, who have exhausted other retail and book-based resources. Recent workshops have brought in fiber artists from Indonesia to explore batik and New Mexico to learn about inkle weaving.

There’s also a membership option, where people get to use the space and tools however and whenever they need, returning again and again to work on their pieces, share their skill, and maybe even collaborate with the person on the loom over. This is a space that works across breadth and at depth, and one of the few places in the US that operates this way in the area of the fiber arts.

And there’s also that community piece, that goes beyond nurturing a potential talent, such as tapestry weaver Keyaira Terry who got her start here, but is also about nurturing us as people and us in community. Fiber Circle Studio isn’t about making in isolation, it’s about making in community and in relation to yourself. That’s evident in programs like Craftaholics Anonymous, but also in the very DNA of this space – it’s all relational, to self and to others. The strands of a life sit here; Fiber Circle Studio exists to help you weave them together, however that makes sense to you.

MAKING SPACE:

With Alisha Reyes, Founder, Fiber Circle Studio

Why was a physical space important to you?

To have a place of engagement and interaction. To provide space and equipment for people to explore a creative journey in an inspiring and supportive environment.

What advice would you give to other creatives thinking of starting a bricks and mortar?

Set a budget, list your absolute needs as well as negotiable desires. Envision, plan and do it!  

What does community mean in the context of Fiber Circle Studio?

Community is about sharing knowledge, inspiring others and being inspired, growing and evolving on a creative journey alongside others. Making connections and providing opportunities! 

To find out more: Website www.fibercirclestudio.com / Facebook @fibercirclestudio / Instagram @fibercirclestudio

Descanso Gardens

“Descanso Gardens is an urban retreat of year-round natural beauty, internationally renowned botanical collections and spectacular seasonal horticultural displays. Visit for a stroll, a concert or a class — there are so many ways to explore.”

Nestled in the mountains just a short drive from the urban landscape of Los Angeles you’ll find Descanso Gardens. Walking among the winding paths and hidden trails, you can’t help but feel transported into a global nature experience spanning the world. One moment you’re in a Japanese garden, and the next you find yourself in the midst of California redwoods. 

Most city gardens are well manicured and pretty to visit, but Descanso maintains a unique kind of messiness that instantly transports you into a magical world of plants, trees, and flowers. It’s unique design and layout organically encourage curiosity, and instill a felt sense of wild freedom. Descanso has a way of washing away worry while generating a new perspective on life.

We’re learning more and more how essential nature is to our mental health, and visits to places like Descanso Gardens offer a perfect prescription when difficult feelings like overwhelm and loneliness surface. Providing an opportunity to easily escape and connect at the same time, Descanso is a place to wander alone, or to generate a strong sense of belonging and community. 

Your spirits will be lifted by the special beauty of Descanso Gardens, and you’ll immediately feel a sense of calm when you journey into these gardens. This is the perfect place to get the peace of mind you crave in the city of angels.

Website: www.descansogardens.org / Facebook @descansogardensLA / Twitter @descansogardens / Instagram @descansogardens

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts

“At Yerba Buena Center for the Arts (YBCA), we are driven by the belief that art and creativity are essential to healthy lives and communities. Every day, we work with artists who are tapping into the wonder, creativity, and imagination that fuels our perception of what is possible. This sense of possibility and potential is the foundation of our well-being.”

San Francisco’s Yerba Buena Center for the Arts excels at making it’s cool taglines real. Like ‘Center for the Art of Finding Beautiful Truths Amidst Ugly Realities’. Or ‘Center for the Art of Expressing Optimism Against Unfathomable Odds’. And even ‘Center for the Art of Exposing a Needle of Insight in a Haystack of Confusion.’

These often lyrical insights are woven throughout YBCA’s mission and are activated within the diverse communities in which it consciously operates.

Yes, there’s still an active exhibitions program but one that orientates itself around social change and that promotes discussion around participation, reflection and awareness. With exhibitions by socially engaged artists such as Suzanne Lacey, Futurefarmers and Tania Brugera, YBCA goes beyond the standard solo show format to interactive installations that process our everyday realities at depth and within clear contexts.

But YBCA as a real, impactful and needed platform also manifests beyond it’s white walls and into the public realm, onto the streets, in the neighborhoods and within the urban lives surrounding it’s downtown location. YBCA’s public artworks, for instance, advocate for change. Like the partnership with the Tenderloin Healthy Corner Store Coalition, in which artists replace existing neon signs advertising liquor and cigarettes with new ones selling fresh produce. Other sited works are designed to capture our public imagination like Ana Teresa Fernández’s Dream.

With it’s moment defining YBCA 100, YBCA surveys and amplifies the people, initiatives and movements affecting social change. 2018’s wide-ranging list included the ‘me too’ movement, the students of Majory Stoneman Douglas High School, comedian Luna Malbroux, activist Naomi Klein and poet Chinaka Hodge. While YBCA’s Fellowship Program brings together creative citizens across the Bay Area to collectively interrogate a single urgent question that culminates in an inclusive day-long Public Square event, of performances, installation, workshops, and presentations.

Then there’s the partnership with Blue Shield that builds on the ‘growing evidence that art, creativity, and culture have measurable impacts on individual and community health.’ Culture Bank, co-founded by YBCA Director Deborah Cullinan, which actively invests in artists who are cultivating the hidden assets of our communities. And now YBCA has become home to the Curatorial Research Bureau, a bookstore, learning site, exhibition and public programs space that opens up who gets to learn about the discourse impacting culture.

Shaping itself very much as a ‘citizen institution’ in all these many ambitious ways, YBCA is more than an arts institution, it is a container for all our lives.  It’s public service ambition is most eloquently summed up in the words of Cullinan:

“Today, as public trust in our institutions and our leaders continues to erode, there may be no role that is more important for our cultural organizations to play than to be places for people from all walks of life to come together in dialogue. In fact, I believe that the arts organizations that will survive and thrive over the next several decades will be those that embrace a radical inclusivity; set free structures that privilege certain perspectives and exclude others; encourage dialogue and debate; and, expand definitions of what art is, who makes it, and who it is for. These organizations will fuel the public imagination and catalyze collective action. These organizations will hold our democracy accountable.”

Across the cultural field, people are starting to build frameworks for engagement, transformation and participation, often through the filter of culture, and creating the structures to help negotiate our lives, from multiple perspectives. It’s a very different approach to what culture was supposed to do previously and how our institutions have been conceived and constructed. YBCA is a lead player in this field: reconfiguring what it means to be an arts institution today, the role that cultural spaces can actively take to affect our everyday lives, and what a center for doing something about it can actually look like.

Visit. Engage. Participate. Because what YBCA makes happen matters to us.

Website: www.ybca.org / Facebook @YBCA / Instagram @ybca / Twitter @YBCA