Author: Shea Gibbs

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.”

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.

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.