Month: July 2022

L

ifelong thespian Ti Ames was never comfortable with their casting.

First, as an African American, Ames was long frustrated never to be cast in Black roles. There just weren’t all that many to cast, Ames says, and “unless you are told otherwise, you are playing a white character.”

Second, as a young person still learning who they were, Ames was uncomfortable in traditionally gendered casting. “I was always put in the position where I wasn’t an ingénue, because I wasn’t skinny and light,” they say. “There were a lot of roles I couldn’t play growing up. I was always put in the role of mother or servant—or man.”

Still, while it was theater that brought Ames some discomfort, it was also theater that eventually helped them learn who they were. 

Now, a decade and a half after first encountering musical theater at Live Arts as an elementary schooler, Ames returns to the organization as its new education director.

Ames takes over the role from Miller Susen and will oversee Live Arts’ education program for adults and youth. That includes programming classes, camps, and workshops, overseeing volunteer education, arranging student internships, and coordinating the theater’s mentor/apprentice program. “I’m 26 and still trying to figure out what I want to be, and this job is part of that,” Ames says.

Ames has been involved with Live Arts, first attending summer camps and classes, later working as a camp counselor during college, and most recently directing shows and teaching in Susen’s education department, for 16 years.

Before moving back to Charlottesville and taking the new job, Ames had earned a degree at Oberlin College and Conservatory in Ohio and then completed a guest artist position there. “[They are] talented, gifted, and totally ready for this position,” Oberlin theater department chair Caroline Jackson Smith said when Live Arts named Ames its education director. “They are a brilliant actor/singer and an accomplished director. They are so clear, prepared, and organized.”

After moving back to Charlottesville post-college, Ames designed and taught an African American History course at Renaissance High School and began giving vocal lessons at The Front Porch. They have also taught theater workshops and coached vocal students at Monticello and Charlottesville High schools.

Ames served as Live Arts’ interim education director before moving into the position full-time, making them uniquely qualified. “Ti has a depth of experience that belies their years,” Live Arts Executive Director Anne Hunter says. “They are passionate about theater and kids and widely respected at Live Arts and in the community.”

Ames says their family’s roots run deep in Charlottesville, with their mom’s paternal family being enslaved in the area. Ames’ great grandmother lived in Midway Manor when they were in elementary school, and their single mother would leave them at home on summer days. That’s when Ames, age 9, would walk down the hill to attend Live Arts camps, then head back up afterward to meet mom at the end of the day.

Ames’ mother introduced them to singing and performing at an even earlier age. A pastor who founded a church and a singer herself, Ames’ mom also had a public access show. She asked her to sing in church and perform in various ways on air. Ames joined the local chamber chorus, Virginia Consort, when they were 12. They won a Shakespeare competition at 16, earning a summer study program at the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford-upon-Avon, England.

It wasn’t until Ames attended Oberlin, double majoring in theater and African studies, that they figured out they were non-binary. “I realized I was not very comfortable playing women anymore,” they say. “When I finally understood what it meant, it meant I wasn’t crazy, that I wasn’t necessarily born in the wrong body. It changed how I thought about myself in the world.”

Ames says they gained confidence in their body. They knew many people wouldn’t understand them. They hoped some would. 

Still, Ames had more to learn about themself. Since returning to Charlottesville, they began doing productions with the Charlottesville Players Guild, and it wasn’t until then that Ames first played a black character on stage. They went on to direct the Macbeth adaptation Black Mac at CPG, and later staged an original radio play, See About the Girls.

Ames says their new position at Live Arts stands to serve as a place for further growth.

“My main thing as education director here is to expand on the process, not the product,” Ames says. “I think that kids deserve the process. And adults that were never given a chance deserve the process—to be heard, validated, and tell stories that make sense to them.”

Every day on fast-paced Route 250 between the towns of Ivy and Crozet, countless drivers may pass The Barn Swallow without even noticing. Only a small sign points it out. Shielded by a line of thick bamboo and tucked into a barn by a trickling creek, the boutique artisan gallery is an oasis from hurry next to the busy road.

Those who pull in to the gravel parking lot follow a path through a dense garden under a thriving apple tree. By the time they reach the broad porch with climbing akebia vines, the highway has already vanished, and the rush is replaced with rest.

Owners Mary Ann Burke and Janice Arone say that the grounded, nature-oriented atmosphere is something they’ve tried to cultivate as curators.

“We had a vision about the antiquity of the barn.” Arone says. “It’s pre-Civil War and it just has this beautiful essence to it, so we try to comply with that.”

In November 2000, the pair acquired the barn from former owner Bob Leiby, who had built it into an artisan space called The Crafter’s Gallery. Both Burke and Arone showed pottery there. When Leiby decided to move on, they bought the barn and set to work on its next iteration. 

“We’re bringing the outside of nature in,” says Arone about their aesthetic. That has been their general rubric for filling the gallery. Both potters make earthenware with watery or wooden textures and incorporate the figures of birds or leaves. 

Slowly, one by one, they started to gather the pieces of their nest. “John Grant was one of the first photographers,” says Burke. “And jewelers like Elizabeth Haines.” The curators always kept their eyes open for the qualities that fit their Barn Swallow ethos. 

“Once the artists come in, they tend to stay,” Burke says of the makers they show.

More than 20 years later, some of the original contributors are still there, but the gallery has grown to have more than 75 artists on display. There is more than the eye can take in. The tall barn room with exposed tin roof is packed tight with canvases and images that seem to call back to the hay and animals that once occupied the space. Behind a partition wall, more crafts spread out on a landing, and down the stairs there is a stone and cement basement where the original foundation can be seen. Patrons can rummage endlessly and find unexpected treasures. 

The artists are all local and regional; The Barn Swallow is a rare venue for people to find their work. There are somber drawings from Charlottesville illustrator Tim O’Kane. There are morel-shaped candles, encaustics, and dyed fabric. Crozet-based painter Leslie Banta shows her skyward-looking paintings in which vast clouds dwarf tiny buildings. 

Laurie Gundersen is a folk artist whose bark-based creations can be found in the gallery. The vases made from cherry or poplar bark and handbags made from white pine have a rough, rustic, and raw appeal that opens new doors in how we use natural materials.

Anne Scarpa McCauley’s intricate, hand-woven baskets hang on the wall. The tightly woven honeysuckle vines trained into astounding, sculptural patterns that can seem alive reveal why the award-winning artist is also displayed in the Smithsonian and nationally. 

Grant’s sublimation photography also hangs on the walls. The large, botanical arrangements are printed onto dark metal with dark tones that subvert the bright blush normally attributed to all things floral. 

The barn has hosted artists for Crozet’s Second Saturday exhibitions, workshops, and talks. Events can be a great way to interact with the space and its exhibitions. As much as the barn has to offer in the numerous pieces in the shop, it also has at least as much to offer as a place to be. The owners hope to open up the creekside meadow to events when it is safer to gather.

Most people who visit The Barn Swallow have heard about it before and travel to see it. But some customers passing by come in off the road, and there is also an online store. But the gallery is really a destination venue. The barn and gardens are a joy to explore and you never know what you’re going to find tucked away as you browse the displays.

As The Barn Swallow has grown, Burke and Arone have also grown in their craft. Like their barn, clay has the flexibility to be shaped into what you need it to be. 

“It’s so versatile, you could make a spoon out of clay or you could make a 6-foot sculpture out of clay,” Arone says. It fills the room in various forms. Pitchers, plates, bowels, vases, and teacups line the walls of the shop on shelves, each with an expressive personality.

After two decades, Burke and Arone can look back over what they’ve made. The natural aesthetic of their shop makes it feel like a growing thing. Every year, The Barn Swallow has a little more within its walls, more artists, more work, more flowers in the garden. Every year, it comes back fuller, like a tree with more blossoms on its branches.

Artists have been creating and decorating miniature models for hundreds—if not thousands—of years. But miniatures have exploded in the past half decade with the growing availability of 3-D printers and virtual gathering spaces for enthusiasts. For example, Warhammer, one of the world’s largest tabletop gaming franchises, has drawn an Instagram community of miniature enthusiasts and painters nearly 400,000 members strong.

Charlottesville resident Robert Myers stumbled on miniature painting early during the COVID-19 pandemic, the ideal time to take up a painstaking hobby requiring skill and patience. A working artist who’s dabbled in various media, Myers quickly found himself drawn to the intricacies of miniatures.

“I had just had knee replacement surgery and was laid up and looking for something to do. I got into the rabbit hole on YouTube,” Myers says. “I always liked building models, and for me, it’s the aesthetic. I liked the way everything looked and wanted to apply the principles of 2-D painting to 3-D objects.”

Most folks who charge into miniature painting are tabletop gamers. With their resin-packed 3-D printers at the ready, the self-styled nerds build their own tiny figures for deployment on the fantasy battlefield.

Myers doesn’t play tabletop games. But he was drawn to comic book illustration in eighth grade and began studying art in high school. He joined the Navy afterward and bounced around jobs, bartending and the like. In 2010, he went to art school, focusing on figure drawing, oil painting, sculpting, and other media. All told, he’d had nearly a decade of formal art schooling. 

Since going pro, Myers has done some commission work, but it wasn’t until he found miniature painting that his passion was finally piqued. He still struggles to make ends meet selling finished models under his Red Right Hand Miniatures brand, but he’s hopeful about the future.

“Everything artistic sounds corny, but the process for me is finding inspiration in the blank canvas of the miniature, the figure itself,” Myers says. “I ask myself, ‘how do I expand on this?’”

Myers and other miniature painters typically start with an existing 3-D design, print the piece using their resin of choice, then begin their creative process through paint application—priming, layering, creating lighting and transition effects.

“If you’re going to paint a still life, like a bowl of fruit, you might think about whether you want to put your grapes in front or behind,” Myers says. “With miniatures, that’s decided for you. But there are so many techniques you can use to expand on it.”

At some point, Myers might also like to move into the business of miniature sculpture design. With the way the hobby’s growing, he figures it’s an artistic pursuit with serious upside.

“With COVID and people having so much time, lots of people got involved in the hobby,” he says. “It’s an amazing, supportive community. It’s an open and progressive community. And I think more people are starting to realize there isn’t this stigma for being into it.”

Formally trained artist Robert Myers finally found his niche in painting miniatures.

Kori Price is one of those rare creatures with full control over both sides of her brain. By day, she is an electrical engineer educated at Virginia Tech. In her off hours, she is a writer and mixed-media artist. In January 2022, she put on her first solo exhibition, “You can’t compromise my joy,” at New City Arts. She is a founding member of the Black Artists Collective, a new board member at New City Arts, and the host of “Creative Mornings,” a breakfast series for local artists. We chatted about the past and future of her creative work.

Made in C-VILLE: It’s unusual to meet someone with a talent for both the scientific and the artistic. How did that come about? Can you tell me about your self-discovery as a creative?

Kori Price: I’ve always loved crafts and arts and that sort of thing, even as a kid. So, even as I found myself pursuing more technical things in school, I was still in band. I played the contra-alto clarinet for four or five years—a really tall, outrageous, low clarinet. I also loved art. My dad had cameras, so I would pick up his cameras and try to take pictures. I’m terrible at sketching, but I would try to sketch. I started writing a book in high school. I would just dabble in all of these different things.

In college, as I pursued my electrical engineering degree, I just stayed around creative people. That’s what helped me journey closer to a life as a creative. I might have had more arts-focused friends in college than I had engineering friends. While my engineering friends were off doing projects with Arduinos, microprocessors, or circuit design, I was writing short stories. I was in the concert band and the marching band. I bought my first DSLR and started taking photos for friends.

So I think because I’ve always had this curiosity about art, as an adult, it just felt right to pursue a career as an artist alongside my career as an electrical engineer. I just want to explore the work that I can do, the things that I can make.

You work in such a diversity of forms as an artist. Is there a central set of themes that holds your work together?

There are a few themes that I really enjoy. One is Black womanhood. That’s a pretty central theme, and it’s something I want to keep exploring and expanding on. I also love making work that creates a liminal space. I love making work that’s ethereal, that sends shivers down your spine, that makes you feel like there’s a presence in the room, so to speak.

A lot of it is rooted in conversations with folks about things as wild as particle physics and quantum mechanics as well as people’s experiences with their spirituality or their experiences with folks who have passed on, with their ancestors. I take two things that contrast—like hard science vs. spirituality—and try to show that they don’t have to be separate. There are places where they blend and they merge.

You recently had your first solo exhibition, ‘You can’t compromise
my joy,’ which we wrote about in C-VILLE Weekly. Tell me about that experience. What came out of that for you?

The biggest thing for me is just the confidence that I gained. I don’t know who has put this in our minds, but it feels like you have to have a solo show in order to be an artist. I know in my head that’s not right, but this show still gave me that confidence. Look what I did! Look what I accomplished! I planned and executed on an idea that had just been images in my head. I translated those ideas into reality.

But hearing people’s reaction was important, too. In my work, I want people to be part of the show. I want them to be present in it.

I had this twisted hair fringe at the front, which I titled ‘Did you just touch my hair?’ I wanted to make it clear that once you come through those twists—you couldn’t see through the gallery wall or the window, because there was a wall of hair there—you were in a Black woman’s headspace. You kind of intruded in, you parted through the hair. That resonated with people. They felt it. They left notes in the book that brought me to tears, because it had really translated. I think that’s the one of the most important things that an artist can do, to get people to feel.

So, it was just good to know that I could do it. Now I’m challenging myself. What else can I do? What more can I do? What’s next?

So what is next?

I’m sort of in an exploratory mode. I’m focusing right now on finishing a book I’ve been writing. I don’t have a title yet, but it’s a fantasy/science fiction series that I’d like to write. I’ve written the first book; I’m in the process of editing it now. It’s a young adult book. I’ve been writing it for a long time and things are finally solidifying, which is great.

In the photography realm, I’m working with a couple of ideas. The first idea is about our relationship to our ancestors. That’s another liminal space. Just like night and day exist at the same time at dusk and dawn, why can’t life and death exist in the same place or the same space? That’s my core idea, the core metaphor that I’m working with. I’ve created a few images from that which were recently on display at Studio IX. I’ll post them on my website soon.

I’m also going back to the theme of Black womanhood. I want to experiment with mixing weaving and photography to create personas of different Black women, and celebrating particular African-American names—your Keisha, your LaQuanda, your LaToya, those names that are so unique to African American culture. I want to find a way to bring those women to life.

Leather goods designer Daniel Foytik has had his share of adversity. Raised in a remote town in Siberia, Russia, he was diagnosed in 2004 with ankylosing spondylitis, an inflammatory disease causing spinal fusion. About a year and a half ago, COVID-19 caused him to close his Charlottesville leather goods storefront on Second Street. Now, he’s going through an emotional divorce from his wife and business partner, Alisa.

Still, Foytik says none of that is going to stop him from continuing to make handcrafted products under the Foytik Leather name. “I need to work hard,” he says.

Foytik says he’s been fascinated with leather—“the smell, the touch, the pliability and durability”—since he was a child. Because of the remoteness of his birthplace, his family crafted homemade toys, instilling a DIY sensibility in him early on.

Foytik began his leatherworking career making sheaths for his own artisan knives. He soon started creating belts and wallets, as well. In 2012, Foytik moved to the United States and settled briefly in Rappahannock County. He and his wife wanted to buy a home and came across a list of the “10 happiest cities to raise a family.” Charlottesville was on the list.

Foytik and his wife opened the brick-and-mortar Foytik Leather shop in 2015. By then, he had expanded his product line, and today it includes dog collars (his most popular item), leashes, bags, camera straps, passport covers, smartphone covers, lanyards, and journals. He purchases most of his raw leather in half-hides from an Amish company in Ohio. Once in-house, Foytik stains, stamps, and finishes the leather, assembling his products and sending them to customers across the country.

Foytik doesn’t blame COVID entirely for his storefront closure. He says he may have grown too fast pre-pandemic, adding too many employees and sacrificing efficiency. Plus, he never saw the foot traffic he’d hoped for, and “the design of the product wasn’t really fit for Charlottesville clientele,” he says.

With the shop closed for the time being, Foytik is focused on his online Etsy store. Most of his customers these days live outside Charlottesville. Foytik says he rarely works on commission due to the long lead times but is constantly looking for new items to add to his line, and designs every product himself. 

“I like the newer stuff better than the old, but it is not always that people agree,” Foytik says. “When I create something one-of-a-kind, I get into the groove and get inspired.”

Foytik has also reworked his production approach and employs only two to three people at a time, depending on demand. He’s planning several pop-ups this summer and hopes to introduce a high-end product line. Perhaps most importantly, he’d like to reintroduce his passion to locals.

“If you think about it, there is no synthetic material that could completely replace leather,” Foytik says. “It is a perfect product.”

Daniel Foytik loves leather: ““the smell, the touch, the pliability and durability,” he says.

So you wanna be able to say, “I made that!”? These four spots are helping you craft something brag-worthy, from floral arrangements to beaded earrings. 

Be Just
407 Monticello Rd.
bejustcville.com

What do pizza, pillows, and flowers have in common? They’re all workshops held by this Belmont home goods shop. The thoughtfully curated class list focuses on learning new
ways to live well and cultivate your home. 

The Hive
1747 Allied St., Suite K
thehivecville.com

The owners of The Hive (above)have a long list of artists and makers they admire—and many of them teach workshops and classes at the Allied Street studio. Learn the meditative art of Zentangles, or try your hand at sewing a child’s dress. 

The Scrappy Elephant
165 Main St., Palmyra
scrappyelephant.com

The Scrappy Elephant helps you do good and do good work. Its creative reuse program (you bring them your leftover art supplies to help keep them out of landfills) helps fuel the Palmyra shop’s events and workshops, from mosaics to macramé. (Plus: SE’s Camp Create gets young crafters started early.)

Pikasso Swig
333 Second St. SE
pikassoswig.com

This downtown studio offers a class every Thursday. Look for things like sand art, pillow-making, and straight-up acrylic painting instruction, all supplies (and a beverage!) included for less than $50. Bonus: There’s a full menu available, with charcuterie, panini, and plates for the little ones.

Women supporting women isn’t just a hashtag or phrase pulled off a trendy graphic tee for members of Boss Babes Cville, an ever-growing support group of local female-identifying folks in all walks of their careers.

Started by downtown business owner and stylist Linnea Revak in 2017, the group took shape with the help of co-director Jessica Norby, a local social media strategist.

“I was a 27-year-old small business owner that needed community—to not feel like I was alone, but instead have camaraderie and support from others in my shoes,” says Revak, whom you’ve probably seen around town in flouncy pastels, or behind the counter of her stylish consignment shop, Darling Boutique, on the Downtown Mall. 

Revak just opened her second storefront, Dashing Boutique, right next door, and, in part, credits her entrepreneurial success to advice she received at one of the group’s meetups from fellow Boss Babe Destinee Wright, a local writer and marketing professional: Release the need to control everything. Letting go is powerful. And so much good has come from just releasing.

That advice came from Wright in the summer of 2019, says Revak, when she was figuring out the next step for her business. “I’d just moved into our new [Darling Boutique] location, needed to hire staff and delegate, but I was still trying to control everything. It was in letting go and delegating to a team that I trust that I saw my business truly flourish.”

With a virtual Facebook group including almost 1,500 members and monthly in-person meetups, the local boss babe says she created the group to be an inclusive and safe space to exchange resources and insights, be vulnerable, to uplift, encourage, and learn from one another.

“I’m a better small business owner because of Boss Babes Cville,” Revak says. “I’m wiser, stronger, more vulnerable, teachable. Each time we’ve had a meetup over the years with guest speakers, I’ve soaked it all up like a sponge.”

The collective wisdom of the group has helped her make important decisions about everything from growth, hiring needs, systems and processes, accounting, and marketing.

“I would be googling so many things if it weren’t for this group!” she says.

Much like the term girl boss, boss babe has seen a recent shift in connotation, sometimes carrying a non-serious tone reinforcing that women in positions of power often aren’t viewed as equal to their male counterparts.

“I believe it’s still an empowering way to define our group, but I do think there’s room for growth in the language we use to talk about female-identifying individuals when it comes to entrepreneurship and business,” Revak says. “If this group’s shown me anything, we’re capable of adapting, learning, growing, and bettering ourselves—together.”

And all are welcome to join.

“The more engaged everyone is, the more sparks of magic fly in the group,” says Revak. “You get out of the group what you put into it. And we’ve seen so many beautiful things come out of it.”

Cody Lester has been a woodworker since 2012, but one day on his way into work (he keeps a day job as quality improvement analyst for the UVA Transplant Center), inspiration struck: He’d been trying to dream up a new product for his business, The Fine Grainery, that would allow him to combine mediums and add a personalized touch, and he finally got an idea. He’d make tic-tac-toe—to go. 

“The thing I like most about it are the contrasting types of wood and the contrasting acrylic pieces,” Lester says. “I think the look just kind of brings everything together.” 

Acrylic pieces nestle into a maple and walnut frame, with magnets to keep everything in place (good for bumpy car rides or chaotic restaurant tables). And while Lester’s 2-year-old daughter doesn’t quite understand the game yet, he hopes the pieces can become heirlooms—especially given that he can personalize them. 

“My favorite was an XOXO message from a grandparent to his grandchildren,” he says. “I think that is something that will be cherished for a long time.”

Llorel Eldridge was standing in a lavender field when she had the idea to start L’Essentials, her nature-inspired skincare and décor brand. 

“I always stayed at my grandparents’ house during the summer and we were always outside,” Eldridge says. “I’ve been inspired by nature my whole life.”

She launched in 2020 with hand sanitizer, floral bath salts, and rose cuticle oil, all invoking her love of the outdoors. She quickly expanded to coffee bean facial scrubs and—her favorite product—flower preservations, for which she presses anything—from forget-me-nots and baby’s breath to roses and marigolds—between two panes of glass and contains them in a gold or black frame. Those are her bestsellers and, coincidentally, her favorite things to make, especially custom orders.

“I really enjoy creating pieces inspired by nature,” she says. “I hope my work gives you a sense of calm and happiness.”

Longtime fiber artist (and communications consultant) Miriam Dickler knew her pit bull Frank was a big softy, but his serious face often said otherwise to strangers. 

“I started putting him in fun bandanas I made to try and help communicate his friendly, loveable personality,” she says. “It seemed to work!” Eventually, she began to make “Frankdanas,” reversible bandanas in complementary fabrics, and sell them through her Etsy shop, Frankly Fetching. 

“Obviously, we named it for Frank as he’s the inspiration and CEO (Chief Eating Officer),” she says. Find them online or at Animal Connection.