Author: Shea Gibbs

The folks at Visible Records want to lift artists up. To do so, they’ve had to slow things down. 

The newish art studio/gallery concept, backed by The Bridge/Progressive Arts Initiative and located in the former office space at 1740 Broadway St., opened last November. But the artist-run consortium, which highlights minority and low-income producers, still finds itself carefully navigating COVID-19 concerns. Organizers say they aren’t as far along in their mission as they might’ve expected at this point.

Visible Records’ studio portion—23 distinct spaces from 130 to 312 square feet in size—is less than two thirds full. And the gallery side saw its first exhibition open on August 6, nearly nine months after Visible Records’ first tenants took up studio space. “We’ve had no other option than to move really slowly,” says Kendall King, who heads studio operations.

But the slow pace has almost certainly been a blessing, King says. Building a community around the right artists takes time.

One of the firsts to use a Visible Records studio herself, King says the space has been invaluable in her own production of large-scale prints. She thinks other artists will benefit similarly—not only from the dedicated studios but also from the available common area, where they can collaborate and be inspired by others. “We give artists time and space to take stock of where their career is going.”

Getting into the studio is the first step, and Visible Records’ vetting process for new tenants is deliberate. Because the studio’s intention is to lift up marginalized artists, space is available by application only and has no set price. The community selects artists for inclusion based on fit—whether it be in terms of mission, medium, or demographic.

“We go through a process—everyone who applies that we also want to have as part of the community, we ask them what they can afford without impacting them negatively,” King says. “It might look like someone who helps doing work around the space. Or it might look like us raising money to help them.”

Fundraising has gone well, King says, largely because of Visible Records’ association with the established nonprofit Bridge/PAI. King doesn’t believe the consortium will be limited by money as it selects artists for inclusion in the near future.

King operates the studio space alongside another local artist-in-residence, Morgan Aschom, who acts as manager of the larger warehouse housing Visible Records. The multi-use space was converted after its former tenant, data management company Data Visible, closed in 2014. What remains is 55,000 square feet now encompassing Decipher Brewing, Grow Coral Reefs, Patois Cider, Metal Inc., A2D Appliance Sales, Dreadhead, The Freeman Artist Residency, recording studios, and other small businesses, in addition to Visible Records.

A separate team of local and regional arts industry insiders direct Visible Records’ gallery side, King says. The space’s first exhibit, which closed September 14, is Tiahue Tocha, featuring art by the Colectivo Rasquache. The artists have been unable to return to their home in San Francisco Coapan, a community in the volcanic region of the State of Puebla in Mexico, due to the pandemic.

“It’s just been going great—people are coming to see it,” King says. “The Rasquache collective is entirely aligned with our community. Every day when I come to [the gallery], I am moved and provoked thoughtfully by it again. There is such a range of mediums and contributions to it, but you can tell when you are in the space that these artists have the same energy and intent.”

Beyond its first exhibition, Visible Records has a full schedule lined up for the remainder of the year. Next up is the Freeman Artist Residency, running September 25 to October 30. Established by University of Virginia Professor Neal Rock, the residency program intends to lift up Black artists who are first-generation college graduates.

A solo exhibition featuring Fidencio Fifield-Perez will follow, from November 4 to December 11. Fifield-Perez lends his perspective as a native of Oaxaca, Mexico, to the debate over borders, edges, and the people passing them. Closing out the year and moving into 2022 will be a group exhibition of the current Visible Records studio tenants. The exhibit will open December 17.

With gallery operations scheduled for the foreseeable future, Visible Records can now continue the slow process of finding and vetting possible tenant artists. One remaining hurdle, King says, is that outsider artists often don’t know what’s available to them.

“We’ve subsidized, partially or fully, at least five artists here,” King says. “And we’ve always had at least a third of our artists partially or fully subsidized. I would urge people—if this is how you want to make your mark on the community—we are the place.”

Darryl Nelson Smith had never been in a play when he uprooted his Richmond life for an office gig supporting the Charlottesville theater community. He figured he’d take the job with Live Arts for a few years. Twenty years later, Smith is a pillar in local theater—on and off stage.

434: So what’s your ROLE at Live Arts? Lol.

Darryl Nelson Smith: I’m the box office manager, but I feel like I’m more like the face of Live Arts. I help with development and marketing and fundraising. I get to throw fun parties and do a lot of the community outreach. I can’t wait to have people back in the building. And, since we’re a 100 percent volunteer organization, I have been onstage in a couple of Live Arts shows.

If you’ve only recently been in productions, what brought you
to Live Arts in the first place?

A co-worker in Richmond was coming to do shows at Live Arts many years ago. I came to see one and fell in love. Then she took a marketing position here. One day, I got a phone call from her—”this might be weird, but we are looking for a box office manager.” Four or five months later, I packed up my suitcase and a moving truck.

What is it about theater you love?

The cool thing about theater is it is always growing and changing. At Live Arts, we do six or seven productions per year, and there’s great excitement around opening night. But then after four weeks of doing the same show, you’re a little tired of it. Then, there’s all of a sudden a new show and group of people to engage with.

How were you convinced to finally perform yourself?

I went to school for communications and advertising, and in Richmond I worked at museums mostly. But with Live Arts being a volunteer organization, someone was eventually like, “hey, by the way, we need a person and think you should audition.” I’d be like, “you’re crazy—I am not an actor.” But then after going out for a couple of beers, I’d be in.

What’s the last year been like for Live Arts?

We reinvented the wheel and did online shows—but you don’t get that immediate feedback you get with live audiences. We’ve also been doing dance parties to reach out and let people know we are here. It’s just kind of been like, “how can we engage the community?”

What’s the year been like for you personally?

After our doors had been closed for a year and a half, I honestly started to wonder if I could do it again. But I recently had a chance to go to New York and work with a former director of mine and run his box office. I got to do what I love, and I thought, “I can do this again.” I love the interaction with the public—that excitement of people coming to a show. It’s so magical.

What’s been one of your favorite moments as Live Arts box office director?

The last show before the pandemic was Men on Boats, which is an all female cast playing men characters. We ran for two weeks before the pandemic and kind of knew this was a big thing. For the last show, the audience just really wanted to be there and came to support us, and I think the actors felt the love. It was their last show, and they gave it their all.

What’s next for you and Live Arts?

I’m going to be here as long as they want me. But you never know. My life goal is to end up in a cabin in Canada somewhere.

Our first show this season is a one-man show, but we have three different actors available each night just in case. If someone gets sick, we have another actor who can go on. You can come three times and it might be different every time. We also have a big ol’ musical coming next summer. And I always say I won’t be onstage, but you never know. I say no, then I’m up there singing and dancing.

It makes up around 60 percent of the human body. It covers more than 70 percent of the Earth’s surface.

And it makes up 100 percent of local Black-owned business Civil Water’s product portfolio. 

Good old-fashioned water—in bottles. No bubbles, no flavors, no harmful chemicals, no healthy minerals removed.

So what’s the big deal then? Barely 6-month-old Civil Water sells its liquid to wholesalers or direct-to-consumer only in aluminum bottles. The 12-ounce vessels are available online—and by subscription service—in 24-packs for $43.99.

“We’re in five states on the East Coast,” said Faith Kelley, one of two just-over-20-year-old founders running Civil Water out of a Charlottesville office. “As far as being in large chain stores nationwide, that’s more difficult. Our timeline is about a year or two.”

It’s tough to figure out how well Civil Water is doing relative to its competitors and the overall market, as data on packaged water material are scarce. But anecdotally, boxed and metaled water firms keep pouring out. Liquid Death, JUST Water, Open Water, Proud Source. Along with C’ville’s own, they’re all looking to irrigate a portion of the market.

“What makes Civil Water unique is a lot of people are really connected to the fact that we are local,” Kelley says. “And, only a few of the other aluminum bottled water companies are actually spring water.”

By any measure, aluminum is way more recyclable than plastic. Regulators and the packaged water industry have taken notice. Governor Ralph Northam signed an executive order on March 23 requiring executive branch state agencies to stop trafficking in single-use plastic water bottles, as well as disposable plastic bags, plastic, and polystyrene food containers, and plastic straws and cutlery. The gov gave necessary medical, public health, and public safety plastics some exemptions, but the agencies must phase out all non-medical, single-use plastic and polystyrene by 2025.

“About 9 percent of plastics that get recycled actually get repurposed,” Kelley says. “Aluminum is of course the number one most recycled material.” 

Kelley’s right, but it does take some effort to move aluminum down the recycling stream and get it back on shelves. She suggests taking your empty bottles directly to a recycling center, rather than throwing it in your single-stream bin. You have to be “religious about physically taking your items,” she says.

So what’s next for the self-funded, two-employee Civil Water? Kelley and co-founder Neil Wood are confident they can grow with demand—they contract with a third party to bottle their water, which they say is direct from an Appalachian Mountain source, and have plenty of capacity. They’re now looking for funding to expand, Wood says. 

“We want to be able to hit the huge retail chain stores to become accessible for everyone around the country,” Wood says. “And then from there, we will offer some smaller options for packaging.”

And what about those bubbles and flavors? “We actually haven’t thought about that,” Wood says. “There is a market for it. But we don’t drink it.”