Coco & June's New Studio

I first met Emily Kurth several years ago, when she was running her creative business, Coco & June, from home. As we toured her house and her bright basement studio, she told me how she came to spend her days doing something she loves—making abstract art.

“I’ve always been self-directed,” she said, “structuring my days based on what feels good at the moment. But for a long time, I thought ‘That’s not what successful people do.’”

Turns out, she was wrong.

Coco & June began years ago when Emily and a friend decided to monetize something they were already doing—refinishing old furniture. That work required a very clean space (free of the dog hair that Emily’s golden retriever Augie can’t help but shed), as well as a lot of moving and heavy lifting. When Emily’s business partner took a new job, Emily changed course.

She began selling lifestyle goods, including hand-painted wooden signs and shirts she designed. (I still have and love a tank top she made back then that says ‘Stay Wild.’) Her signs proved popular and sold well. Even so, after a while Emily began feeling a pit in her stomach every time someone ordered one. She realized she was just making what would sell.

She explained all this—as well as her love of abstract painting—to a photographer who presented at a conference and spoke about her own career shift. The presenter told Emily it was time for a change.

Emily returned home to find the computer she’d used to create all of her sign designs had crashed. Nothing could be saved.

And yet? Emily felt a sense of relief. It seemed to be a sign. (Sometimes the puns just happen.) She shifted gears and began focusing on abstract painting.

Fast forward a year and a half, and things have shifted once again. This May Emily opened a public studio space at 1195 Pineview Drive.

This time the new opportunity came to her.

When Emily first received an email from interior designer Laura Davis Stone asking about her paintings, she thought it was a hoax. It wasn’t until Laura approached her in a coffee shop that she realized her mistake. Laura began using Emily’s paintings in her design work and encouraged Emily to move into the building she’s been renovating in Suncrest, which houses Laura’s interior design studio and boutique, Edgar Rae.

“I’ve been around long enough to know that when something like this falls in your lap,” Emily told me, “You say Yes.”

I’m so glad she did. Her paintings are lovely in person, and it’s powerful to see a whole series of them all together. She’s also selling cards, prints, mugs, and other goods featuring images from her paintings. In the coming months she plans to hold small painting classes in the space.

Her studio can be found around the back side of the building for now, but eventually you’ll be able to access it from upstairs as well. (And I think she’d want me to tell you that she will soon be getting a new door, which will complete the lovely cohesive look she’s created inside.)

Go check it out. You’ll be glad you did.

Fine Craft and Connections at the Annual Lock House Studio Sale

The photos I took a few weeks back of the Mo’Town Studio Tour led to the opportunity to take yet more photos at the annual Lock House Studio holiday sale last weekend.

The first floor of the house next to Lisa’s studio, which they’ve dubbed the Meditation Palace, was packed with the work of multiple potters, as well as Bryn Perrott’s bold wood block prints.

(I got a real kick out of the pink possum shown above in left center.)

All the ceramics pieces were intermingled rather than separated by artist, and it was fun to see how their distinctly different styles complemented one another.

I love how ceramics brings together art and function, elevating basic items that you can use every day.

These pendant lights, for example. So good.

I found these cuties hanging out in a corner eating snacks. Beside them was a display of the (prolific!) work of Lisa’s daughter, Leila Jade (in the red). I was so impressed. She’s clearly been working really hard.

I came for the art, and it had its usual effect. I find others’ creativity both inspiring and uplifting. What I didn’t expect was the crazy number of connections I had with so many people there. It was almost comical.

Here goes: I’ve been working with the husband of the artist who hosted the event, who happens to employ my step-sister. My step-sister’s cousin had her beautiful work on display too, and she and I ran cross-country together in high school. She and some other graduates of the WVU art department were having dinner that night with a retired ceramics professor, who my mom also had when she was in school. One of my best running buddies came over to tell me she loved my boots (she was wearing the same ones) and introduced me to her friend, whose son I recently met at a football game.

This complicated, interwoven network of wonderful people makes me smile. You can’t get that kind of connectivity just anywhere. It’s one of the best things we have to offer here in small town West Virginia, and it’s one of the things I love the most.

Highlights from the Third Annual Mo'town Studio Tour

Last weekend I experienced my first Mo’Town Studio Tour. The self-guided tour featured stops at five local artists’ studios who together hosted a total of 11 guest artists from other places.

The weather was lovely and the event perfectly timed for people like me who hope to get a jump on their Christmas shopping. (Though wouldn’t it be so much easier if everyone could just shop for their own presents? I saw so many things that would be just perfect for me.)

We started at Lisa Giuliani’s Lock House Studio. That stop included Lisa’s handmade jewelry and bright, beautiful pottery (which I totally want for myself) and some amazing hammered metal jewelry by Mary Beth Fazio.

I love Mary Beth’s (aka Vandalia Metal) simple, sophisticated style and couldn’t resist purchasing a ring for myself and a Christmas gift for someone else who shall remain nameless.

Next stop was Quantum Bean Coffee on Kingwood Street in Greenmont, which wasn’t officially part of the tour, but did feature work from several of the artists who were. (We had to stop there so my mom and step-dad could restock their coffee stash and fill their growlers with kombucha from the Neighborhood Kombuchery. I’m pretty sure they are officially addicted.)

Just a few blocks down on Arch Street were two tents featuring four different artists. These amazing bold woodcuts by host Bryn Perrott (aka Deer Jerk) are totally on my list to acquire in the future.

There were also whimsical prints by printmaker Sage Perrott, aka Haypeep, letterpress posters and prints by Laura Baisden of Camp Nevernice, and bold, funky jewelry by April Felipe.

At the top of South Park we visited the home studio of ceramic artist Shalya Marsh. (Where I re-visited memories of the former owners of that house who let more than one squawking pet bird roam free IN THEIR LIVING ROOM.)

On display was beautiful, bold pottery by Lindsay Rogers and delicate plant-inspired paper cuts by Nathalie Singh-Corcoran.

Shalya also hosted the lovely Nellie Rose, who makes unique, hand-printed clothing in Thomas, WV (and once sweetly asked me to help adjust her overalls during a show at the Purple Fiddle).

We then made our way through Sabraton and into the wild west that is the uncoordinated development on and around Summer School Road. Nestled back in the woods behind all that was Jen Allen’s ceramics studio.

I loved getting to walk through the space where she creates her light-weight, subtle pottery and bright, funky ceramic jewelry.

She hosted ceramicist Reiko Yamamoto, whose work I absolutely loved.

Reiko had a combination of bold blue and white designs, subtle grey and black lined pieces that reminded me of pinstripe suits (but in the classiest way), and unique metal jewelry.

Also on display were comic-inspired prints by Mateo Fuentes and some truly original ceramics by Samantha Briegel.

I loved her funky combination of lacy texture with bold solid colors.

Last but not least was the studio of sculptor Jamie Lester and Nadia Caterina, who together operate the Nampara Arts Cooperative.

In addition to their own work, they showcased sculptures by Richard Shrewsbury and some truly beautiful pottery by Donna Polseno.

Handmade wooden utensils, bright, funky ceramic friends, and jewelry (with dog friend) were also on offer.

I can’t believe I missed the first two studio tours but am so glad to have caught this last one. I loved learning not only about local artists I didn’t know but also others they know and think we should too. If you missed it, shop through the links above and put this on your radar for next October.

Buy Local: Fairmont's Arts & Antiques Marketplace

You know that phenomenon where once you start looking for something, you see it everywhere? (It’s called the Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon if you’re interested.) It’s been happening to me with local creative businesses. My latest find is a good one, especially for anyone who’s in need of unique quality furniture, memorabilia, or local art.

Juliana Claudio runs the Arts & Antiques Marketplace, which is located in the Fairmont Mercantile in downtown Fairmont.

The building contains three floors of art and antiques and includes both vendor-run sections and consignment items. The depth and variety is impressive.

You’ll find furniture that’s been restored and given new life with chalk paint.

Carefully curated collections of vintage Pyrex and Fiestaware

Cleverly repurposed vintage items

Unique visual art, 3D pieces, and jewelry

A large collection of wedding and other fancy gowns

Some truly amazing quilted, upholstered furniture

And the occasional midcentury find.

On the third floor is a large bright gallery space that currently holds an exhibit curated by Jane Cardi, a local Morgantown artist who is also Juliana’s grandmother. This space overlooks the location of Fairmont’s Hometown Market, which I wrote about a few months ago, and is available for future exhibits.

In addition to curating this extensive collection, Juliana has several other projects in the works. She and her husband are renovating a nearby historic building, which will become their home in the coming months. Her sister company, Embellishments, offers event planning, event styling and staging using items from the Marketplace, as well as event makeup.

This is how it starts, friends. As I learned recently from a presentation about the amazing transformation of sleepy Richwood, WV, a few good businesses can lead the way to others. I’m excited to see what happens next in downtown Fairmont.

How to Make It

Remember High Fidelity, where John Cusack’s character goes through a “what does it all mean” thing after a break-up? He reorganizes his entire record collection chronologically and calls all his girlfriends since junior high to try to figure out what his life is about. (I watched that movie again recently, and it's still good, in case you missed it the first time around.)

I've been going through the “what does it all mean” crisis a lot in the past few years. Partly I think this is due to major life change, but partly I think it’s my age. There are no more obvious goals to achieve! And oh, am I good at working towards a goal. If I'd been pushed too hard as a child, maybe I could blame my parents for this, but the truth is, I've been a self-motivator since about age 5, when I decided I would learn to tie my shoes on my fifth birthday.

But what do you do when there is no obvious next step to take, no new level to reach? Couple that with a few crushing life disappointments, and I feel adrift. Something feels off, and I'm just not sure what to do about it. (Accept it? That may be the answer. I'm pretty sure the exhausting pursuit of happiness is not.) There’s a whole lot of talk right now about following your life’s purpose, and while I think that’s great if you can do it, it also smacks of elitism and is eminently frustrating to those of us who have no idea what that purpose is. I'm not someone who has always dreamed of opening a restaurant but hasn't been brave enough to do it. I haven't always wished to be a writer or an artist. Aside from my fifth grade dream of going to Harvard and becoming a lawyer—which I’m pretty sure came about solely as a result of reading a whole lot of John Grisham—I’ve never had a clear idea of what I wanted to do.

About ten years ago when I was in Oregon and wrapped up in an existential crisis of the first order, my dad sent me a book written by a Buddhist nun called When Things Fall Apart. There are a lot of good bits in the book, but the one sentiment I'll never forget comes down to this: it's not that the bottom has fallen out--there never was a bottom. Not only that, but there never will be a bottom. The one certain thing in life is that there is no safety net, nothing that you can count on forever. This concept is so disturbing, I think, that people can spend their whole lives trying to prove it false. They look for financial security, for stability from long-term relationships, for a sense of purpose from being a parent. But the fact is that any one of these things can disappear at any time. The only certainty in life is uncertainty and change. 

Part of the reason it’s always been hard for me to pick a passion/purpose or even to formulate a specific career goal is that the options seem unlimited. So it was encouraging to read this interview with Ian Bogost, who suggests we find meaning in the mundane tasks we’re actually doing and stop acting like everything is possible. Instead, he asks where's the play in this situation? Which I interpret to also mean, what else can be done here? How can I make this place I'm actually in more fun for me (even if that place is your backyard, and you're mowing the lawn)? What a relief to stop imagining that everything is a possibility. It seems much more achievable to instead get curious and start looking around to see what's possible where you actually are.

And since I yet again find myself in a position of not knowing what to do, I've decided to just start making things and see where it leads. Get ready for homemade Christmas presents, friends.

Makeover a Mailbox in an Afternoon

My friend Dani lives in a tiny, adorable house in my neighborhood, just on the other side of the park. I think her house has huge potential. This is her mailbox. We decided it could benefit from a little love. Remember last week when I wrote about the two feet of snow we got? Well, this weekend it warmed up enough to go outside in a t-shirt. And to do a little spray painting.

The mailbox was covered in rust, so the first step was to sand it down with some rough sandpaper. The numbers had been attached with a very sticky glue, so we used a putty knife to scrape off as much as we could. Then she applied a rusty metal primer.

Next, she applied a couple coats of glossy spray paint. We each had a couple cans of aqua leftover from other projects, so we used up the remainder of one can as the first coat and then switched to the other.

Dani ran out to Lowes and bought some replacement stick-on numbers so we could finish the project. Pretty good for an afternoon. It's going to add a nice spot of color to her front stoop.

This mailbox was in rough shape, so we did this pretty quickly without waiting a long time between coats. For a more perfect look, I think it would also be fun to start with a new smooth mailbox and add some modern letters or numbers using either stickers or stencils like this. But I love the idea of salvaging something old.

Art in the City

At some point last year I woke up and realized that there is art--really good art--available very, very close to us. As in, Pittsburgh. And I vowed to see more of what's going on at the Carnegie Museum of Art. Right now there's a great Peter Muller-Munk exhibit that features beautiful silver pieces, as well as purely functional but oh-so-well designed items like vacuums. And power tools.

I loved the pots and the stove displayed in this exhibit. The aesthetic reminds me of the very cute Smeg refrigerator that's popular in design circles right now (including certain hotels in Austin), a throw back to the old retro versions.

Can you imagine the fun of vacuuming with these hot little numbers? I can see how the 50's housewives may have been suckered . . .

Above are two different razors--one for underarms and one for legs. Such marketing skills!

I even enjoy the standard features of this museum, such as the courtyard below at the back entrance and the line-up of waterfalls at the front. They're also featuring a really nice modern collection of art from Jane Haskell's personal collection right now. I didn't take pics for fear of admonishment by museum staff, but it's very much worth seeing.

Project 35: A Year of Photos

I've been thinking about new goals as the new year approaches, but I'm also trying to really appreciate the things I accomplished this year. I turned 35 in January, and for some reason this birthday really hit me. While I don't feel particularly old, I feel like I am undoubtedly of "mom age." So, to celebrate, cope, etc., I devised a photo project for myself to commemorate the year.

Called Project 35, the idea was to end the year with four sets of 35 photos taken within 3.5 miles from my house, within 35, within 350, and within 3500 miles. I framed this project rather loosely, with the idea that I wanted to notice and appreciate what was right around me. It definitely got me out exploring a lot of small towns around here and gave me that extra bit of purpose I needed when I set out with my camera. (This is the bane of my existence, needing a purpose behind everything.)

Halfway through the project, I took a fantastic photo class called the Jackson Hole Photography Workshop, taught by Michael Sherwin from WVU and John Holmgren from Franklin and Marshall. It had been years since I'd been to Jackson Hole, and I hadn't been back out west since leaving Montana in 2007. While there this time around, I had the distinct feeling of being in the right place at the right time, something I must admit I haven't felt a lot lately. I was so excited to be learning from photographers who are also fine artists, alongside other people who were as psyched as me to be sent outside with their cameras in amazingly beautiful settings.  

This was a college class, and since I was one of four non-traditional students, I often got dibs on sitting in the front of the van with Michael or riding with John in his pickup truck. I talked to John a lot about his work and how he created projects for himself (be sure check out his stuff--he does some really interesting mixed media pieces of the man camps in North Dakota, as well as some great work in the arctic). I told him about Project 35, and his comment was this: Just finish it. Whatever you do, just complete the project. So I did. 

You can check out all four sets on my Flickr site. I've organized them chronologically within each album so the progress will be apparent. If there's one thing the photo workshop did for me, it was to give me a more critical eye. Suddenly I began to see technical problems I'd completely missed before, and it was surprisingly difficult to find 20 good images for the final portfolio, despite having taken hundreds, if not thousands, during that week. That said, I don't hold these groups of 35 photos out as being fantastic, because I can see lots of flaws, but more as an example of one way to move forward while trying to develop a skill.

Since taking up photography more seriously about two years ago, I've wondered exactly what my style is and how to make my work hang together. This project has been really helpful because some themes and commonalities have emerged.  

Do you see any trends? Anything worth pursuing further? As you'd expect, the new year needs a new project.

It's not your mother's advent calendar!

Dani during the planning phase, next to the "original" advent calendar we used as a template.

Adrian's vintage Singer, which doesn't only look pretty--it works!

sparkly magenta leaf ribbon!

Dani plotting her trim choices

Adrian combined aqua felt with gold ribbon.

Marlin swooped in and created his own felt tree in no time at all (featuring a bright orange feather!). So cute.

Ideas for the felt ornaments

Did you have an advent calendar when you were little? The kind where you do one thing every day of December until Christmas? I haven't thought about these for years. My sister and I used to take turns with the manger scene version my mom had, which had a piece of burlap as the background (hung from a stick instead of a dowel rod to complete the rustic look), with a brown felt barn and a host of felt characters and animals to be applied each day.

My lovely friend Adrian has a secular all-felt version her mother made in the 70's, and this Sunday, Adrian hosted a spectacular craft party where she, her friend Dani, and I each made our own. You know you've found some kindred spirits when the size of each other's felt collections makes you feel WAY better about your own felt habit.

We had so much fun putting a modern twist on this 70's version. Key changes:

1. red sparkle felt for the background (I mean, obviously, right?)
2. a clean, modern tree with no obvious branches
3. a mix of new and vintage trim to decorate the tree
4. a plan to reinforce the ornaments with an extra layer of felt backing for durability

Not gonna lie--this project is big. We started at 2 and worked well into dinner time (when we took a break for an absolutely delicious meal of homemade crab cakes served on a bed of arugula salad, which Adrian's husband Don whipped up while we worked), and we're still not quite finished. But, we got the bulk of the work done. We decided to make the ornaments on our own . . . I foresee a little coffee table/couch sewing action in my future.  

Not only is Coban going to love snapping these ornaments-to-be on the tree this year, but I haven't had so much fun on a Sunday in ages. 

My calendar on the left next to Adrian's mom's version.

Don's homemade crab cakes, with special sauce. I was about to fight someone for the last one, but luckily he had another batch waiting. 

Networking: It's not an evil word.

Artist Colony in Jerusalem

Metal sculpture detail

When I was in Israel a couple years ago, my friend and I wandered through a sweet little artist colony tucked away in the old part of Jerusalem. We walked down a set of stairs and through an open gate of sorts onto a small, slanted street lined with shops and work-spaces for various types of craftspeople. The picture above hangs on my living room wall, and lately when I see it I wonder who the artists working there are (Are they Jewish? Muslim? Christian? Is it a place where religion doesn't matter?) and how they're faring with the recent violence. What was interesting about this place though was that it seemed very much like a community rather than a tourist area--like a place where artists had gathered to benefit from each other's creative energy. 

I've never made my living as an artist or lived in a particularly artsy community, but the happiest I've been in a work-like space in the ten years since I graduated from law school was when I worked in a letterpress shop in Louisiana with Kathryn Hunter of Blackbird Letterpress.

It was the oddest thing, getting to do that. I had just moved to Baton Rouge from Bozeman, Montana, and I'd decided I wanted to learn about letterpress printing (this from reading a piece in ReadyMade magazine about a letterpress shop called Yeehaw Industries in Knoxville, which sadly has since closed). So get this. I googled letterpress printing in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and up came the website of a girl who not only went to undergrad in Bozeman, but who also made art quilts. And I had just gotten into quilting. (The modern kind, like this.) Sometimes these coincidences astound me. So I emailed Kathryn, went to meet her, and we became fast friends. She taught me how to run her giant hand-fed printing press, and together we made invitations, cards, bird flags, and other things to sell at the Baton Rouge arts market, and we got her Etsy shop up and running. I learned so much and had such a great time. 

                            A letterpress card Kathryn and I designed together. Love this guy.

That didn't seem like networking to me. That was just pursuing something I found interesting. If you'd asked me several years ago what I thought about networking, I'd have thrown up a little in my mouth. That word had this slimy, schmoozing connotation for me. But lately I see it completely differently--it's about connecting with people you genuinely like, who are doing work that you find interesting and respect, and keeping in touch in some way. 

                                           red hand by Sarah Seldomridge

Even so,  when  my step-dad suggested I start using my network a few months ago, my first reaction was: I don't have a network. But slowly I started thinking about the people I know--even casually--who are doing things I think are really great. And since I started paying attention, I see that there are more of those than I thought. I really like the idea of consciously seeking out a network of inspirational people, and I think this can be useful in several different contexts. The most obvious is to use it to build connections to help you get a different job. But lately I've been working on building a creative network.

                                            hot foot by Sarah Seldomridge

My lovely friend Sarah Seldomridge, who has been drawing and painting for the past ten years in Boston, (and recently had a two lady show there at Voltage Coffee & Art with her friend Amanda Laurel Atkins) has been giving me feedback and encouragement on my work. We actually set up a phone date before her show to talk about hers. And we're finding that it really helps.

       still life with jif by Sarah Seldomridge

Another artist friend recently asked me if I could be her artsy accountability person, and we've been emailing each other once a week to say what we plan to work on for the week and report on how last week's things went. It's been so helpful!

So whether it's for work or for fun, let's start thinking about who our people are and try to connect with them. Who knows what might happen?

A little inspiration for creative block

I've been having some trouble creating lately. For months I've been going into my sewing room, pulling out my fabrics, and trying to think of what to make. And then I get up and walk out. Unless I have a specific goal (that new porch swing needs a cushion), what's the point?

I saw an interview with Elizabeth Gilbert (of Eat, Pray, Love fame) recently where she talks about why you should create. Not for money, not to "help" people, not to make it your career--because you love it. (She also mentions how you'll have to eat shit sandwiches no matter what--even if you're doing something you love. Also important to know.)

So the question is, how to get over that mental block? This summer I met a yoga teacher who's interested in yoga therapy for artists. Her advice? Just play with scraps. That was June and this is October, but this weekend, I finally did it. And I had so much fun! Such a rush from making these two little potholders out of scraps and old jeans! Who knew? The general message here for anyone who wants to start something--anything at all--is to start small.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about what kinds of things I really want to do, that will actually give me some genuine fulfillment. One thing I've realized is I need to start interjecting some fun into my life in small ways. Like listening to podcasts while I work. Or finding inspiration from other creative people. In addition to craft therapy, here are a few things that have been helping:

lifestyle/artsy inspiration:

Scott Dinsmore's TED talk on finding work you love: A short inspirational talk that focuses on the importance of surrounding yourself with people who are doing things that inspire you.

Design Sponge: I've been reading this blog since 2006, and it's still going strong. I love the house tours (who doesn't want to peek inside other people's homes, especially ones with really great style?), the before and afters (I'm a sucker for a good furniture makeover), and I'm also enjoying the cool new trends emerging, like a focus on fine artists and creative businesses.

Apartment Therapy: Another longtime favorite. This blog covers a lot of territory, from how to select the best modern couch to how to do a really thorough closet clean-out. And of course, they also do house tours, featuring a really wide variety of locations and styles.

My Name Is Yeh: Molly Yeh is a fun, quirky musician who lives on a farm in North Dakota and is making some really delicious-looking food that draws from her Chinese and Jewish heritage. And she's only 25! 

discussions of real questions/issues:

Inside Appalachia podcast: This is helping with my continual quest to understand why people want to stay close to home, but it's also really nice to hear about people who love this place and still return to it and make work about it while living elsewhere.

Dear Sugar podcast: A radio show hosted by Cheryl Strayed (author of Wild) and Steve Almond, where they read and analyze letters from listeners seeking advice, sometimes drawing on their own experience and sometimes calling another person to consult on the issue. Their perspectives are nuanced and understanding, and even if you don't have the problem they're discussing, just listening helps you understand humanity a little bit more.

Death, Sex & Money podcast: Created by native West Virginia Anna Sale, this show is about topics people tend not to discuss openly, including mental illness and the obvious issues listed in the podcast name. 

Ask Polly: A weekly advice column written by Heather Havrilesky for New York Magazine's The Cut. Heather is real, she's bold, and she swears like a sailor. I love her way of encouraging people to really get into life and be vulnerable and take risks and try to be authentic and true to themselves. This column comes out around 1 pm on Wednesdays. (Or you could be crazy and just subscribe to it.)