Cyra Jane has an eye for textures and patterns. Intricate spirals, abstracts of lines and shapes, most are paintings but some incarnations manifest themselves as sculptures both large and small. Examining the perfectly placed pieces around her home studio in Seattle’s Pioneer Square, feels almost like a tour through Cyra’s own mind, heart and soul. Seeing her work, older pieces mixed with new work, a few recurring themes and designs begin to show. There are stories there that want to get out, and in the process they draw their audience in.

During our meeting, we talked about Cyra Jane’s work, her involvement with Burning Man, art as healing and more. I wish, I could share all the tangents, details and side notes that came up during our conversation, but the following interview is a great starting point for getting to know Cyra Jane as an artist. From there, I can only urge you to seek out her work in person and explore her website.

AP: In November you are putting together your first large, solo steel sculpture, resembling DNA torn apart by human hands. What’s the story behind this piece?

Helicase is about the dangers of playing god. The idea was borne in the painting, Helicase, in which two human hands are tearing apart a DNA strand. In early 2007, midway through working on Three Quarter Turn, which is an unapologetic study of the gradients of reality surrounding a particular romantic relationship, I stopped to paint Helicase. The playing god reference was a commentary on my own hubris in painting the story, a fifth and external level of the perceptual recognition that was otherwise uncovered and encapsulated in Three Quarter Turn. I tend toward using universal symbols that strike at multiple levels, leaving room for various personal interpretations. The picture of man deconstructing dna applies not only to me as an individual artist here, but to mankind (consciousness) meddling with nature (truth) and various other interpretations.

This last year I’ve been expanding into metal and stone sculpture. Part of the initial process of retraining my brain to think in 3d was to start visualizing my prior works as sculpture. Helicase was one of the first to form itself and will be the most technically ambitious piece I’ve worked on so far, plus I like the juxtaposition of construction/deconstruction in my first large piece. I drew up the plans for the sculpture, consulted with a professional metal artist and an engineer, and then set about to make it reality. The James Washington House granted me an artist residency that includes use of their shop for one month and a stipend for materials. I am very much thankful for the opportunity and looking forward to the work.

AP: After moving to Seattle in 2002, you began using art as part of a healing process, following grad school. Could you share a little more about what this process was about?

Sure. I spent graduate school in a co-dependent, abusive relationship, watching a man consistently trying to kill himself and, sometimes, me. For two years, I was nurse-maid and provider, enabler and provocateur, and the object of daily emotional, physical, and verbal abuse. I lived through stories I will never tell and by the end of the relationship I was a raw, beaten down, broken shell of a woman. In college, before getting into that relationship, I painted for fun. I was extremely active in student organizations and a top student in the Honor’s College, attending on a full scholarship. I studied creative writing and singing, but kept art for my very own. During the course of that relationship, I lost my connection to art, along with my connection to everything else including my friends, family, spirituality, and self-trust. For about a year after it ended, I couldn’t leave my apartment without being accosted by vibrant visions of my own death and did little more than play video games and cry. I couldn’t make sense of much of what was going on inside my head. To cope, I distanced myself from my emotions, put on a smile, got into a loveless relationship, and basically stopped feeling.

At some point, I began to paint again and discovered that when I opened up the door to my creative stream, my emotions tumbled out onto the canvas with it. I saw stories and truth putting themselves onto the canvas. I watched ideas that I couldn’t articulate form themselves into pictures I could no longer put off dealing with. So in a way, it became the primary method of recognizing and expressing my feelings. In 2009, I embraced the process fully, pushing out in fairly quick succession Anew (better known as the Guerrilla Gasworks installation which was very much about my final break through the repressed state I had lived in for seven years), The Elephant on my Stomach (a 30-painting series for the Forgotten Works challenge attacking and exposing all my underlying demons from having grown up an overweight child), and Meconnaissance (the first and only painting of the aforementioned abusive relationship that acknowledges him, and my part in letting it affect me for so long).

After that, I was a little… oh, burnt out with that level of exposition. And with finally having put Meconnaissance onto canvas, I was finally freed to begin pursuing art on a different level.

AP: You are involved with the Burning Man art community. Why is community important to you, what do you contribute and what do you get in return?

The Burning Man community is made of some of the most solid, tuned-in people I’ve ever met. I’ve found, especially in the local community, an unprecedented celebration of self-expression that provides open avenues for creativity. What do I mean by this? Well, for instance, Ignition Northwest puts on Critical Massive, a regional burn (or week-long art festival/camping trip) oriented around workshops, portable dance clubs, pyrotechnics, and, mostly, large scale outdoor sculpture. The event funds over $10,000 in art grants and is attended by about 1,000 people each year. Over the course of the week, up to fifteen large sculptures are erected, almost entirely built as labors of love by groups of volunteers and individual artists. This year and last, I was both part of a group bringing large scale pyrotechnic sculpture and an individually granted artist, working first in paper mache for Anew and this last year in copper, stone, and cotton for Filaments. They have given me the venue, inspiration and support to explore conceptual public art as an art form. I have been working on providing meditative spaces for participants that promote reflection on the relationship between the self and our environment. So far, it was worked out beautifully. I feel that I cannot adequately express the impact these opportunities have had on me both personally and professionally.

AP: Your academic background is in writing. How do these two forms of communication compare to you? What can visual art do for you, that writing can’t?

Writing is my craft. Visual art is my art. They come from different places. Steve Martin wrote a fantastic play called “Picasso at the Lapin Agile” that is essentially a study and discussion of the link to the muse. In the play, Picasso and Einstein walk into a bar, meet, and proceed to have an intense and amazing discussion of that moment of inspiration when you turn off your conscious mind and let the ideas pour through you as though they come from somewhere else. It’s about inspired visualization, and how it feels raw and uncontrollable. The Ancient Greeks called this a Genius, and described it as an outside entity that took over an artist’s body and controlled their hands or voice.

I studied persuasive writing and rhetoric in college, and can still spend hours crafting a finely tuned letter, where every word is chosen to emphasize a particular tone, or environment, for the underlying message. Though very fun to play with, language is still an extremely limited tool of communication; even the most carefully schemed nuances of phrasing pale in comparison to a shrug or hand gesture in getting a point across. Visual art works on this same level of emotional cues. It strikes your audience below the conscious mind – somewhere language cannot reach without first striking visual images in the reader that hit deeper senses. It is communication directly from one subconscious into another.

I’m actually very interested in the intricacies of interplay between written language and visual art. Percolating into my conscious have lately been images of stories as sculptures – taking words and interpreting their inflections and lilt in a static visual format rather than animated retellings. I’m currently visualizing this as a mingling of stress dreams, cigarette smoke and steel.

AP: Exploring different forms of expression is in itself a recurring theme in your work. In your own words, you’ve moved from one to another (eg. from expressionism to realism) when it “was necessary”. How does this necessity manifest itself? Is it ambition or curiosity that drives it? Or something different?

It is necessity. What I mean by this is that my need to communicate visual continuously surpasses my skills, and so I must learn new ones. When I moved from abstract emotional expression into more complex story-telling, I had to move into figurative painting. I recall at one point sitting in front of a canvas realizing that I had to paint a hand, and a realistic one at that. So I took some pictures of my hands and then painted my first realistic one. It was kind of a terrifying move – as I mentioned earlier I didn’t study art. I’ve never been a doodler or sketch artist and have only the occasional class under my belt. The first hand was terrifying enough that I put it off for a couple of months and just sat there, scared to ruin what I’d painted so far; once I finally started painting, it was easy.

I’ve gotten to the point now that I’m pretty fearless with trying new media. If I have a vision, I consider it doable and so I learn the media and make what I need to. For instance, when I had the vision for Anew, and had found a small grant opportunity, I simply researched very quickly how I could make them on that small of a budget over the course of a month by myself and then did it. At that point, I set a five year goal to create a permanent field of men in various stages of breaking through and so began to learn and study metal work. While I find myself exploring many tangents in the meantime, as practice I suppose, that vision is what is driving me.

I guess the operative word here is drive. I don’t necessarily have any control over this drive, over my artist, over my muse. The best I can do is give her the skills and opportunities necessary to do what she wants and then move over.

Be sure to check out Cyra Jane’s website and blog, The Spaces In Between.

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RobRoy Chalmers and I met on an overcast day in West Seattle, where we both live. We know some of the same people and follow each other in Twitter, but up until that day we had never met in person.

Originally from New York, Chalmers and his wife moved back and forth between the two coasts before finally settling in Seattle. Whether all this moving around has influenced his art, I couldn’t say, but his ongoing art project – the Sporozoan Swarm – certainly has an element of both travel and fragmentation. Here is what RobRoy had to tell me about his work.

AP: You like to work with paper. Where does this fascination come from? What is it about working with and even collecting paper that appeals to you?

RRC: Paper is solid, textural and delicate all at the same time. For me it is the beginning of all art that I make. I think my fascination comes from printmaking. I love the Intaglio print. The act of incising lines in the metal and then pressing the damp paper onto the surface is calming and exciting. Paper feels good in my hands.

AP: Your on-going project is called the Sporozoan Swarm. What is it about this piece that keeps you interested? What is the fundamental idea that makes it so important to you as an artist?

RRC: The Sporozoan Swarm was born out of necessity. When I came back to Seattle in 2008 it was right at the moment of the big bubble burst. My wife and I still owned a house in Massachusetts and we were stuck in a tiny little apartment. I had no place to work. I was walking by a small shoe boutique one day and saw a blank wall and thought how about 1000 tiny drawings? I asked the shop owner and she was interested in seeing the out come so I went home and proceeded to tear up a portfolio full of proofs and old prints.

It is this necessity that that drives me and keeps me interested. The Swarm is also very accessible as shown by how many places it has ended up. It has an appeal that can be simply superficial without requiring the viewer to become involved but has the strength of sensibility to hold the more interested viewer. It is also a perfect conduit into the rest of my work, which tends to be less immediately visually accessible.

This blog post best describes why I feel this piece this needs to grow and why I must to continue to evolve with it. [Editor's note: Check the video embedded in the sidebar of this post too, for more about the Swarm]

I truly believe art makes the world a more pleasant place to live and can change the sentiment of society. Artists must bring their voices to the fore front of society without allowing that voice being compromised by the pressures of mass media and or the apathetic public. I do not believe art should beat people over the head with it point. Please don’t insult my intelligence or turn me away with your one liners. The Swarm reaches across all societal boundaries. I have had conversations a greater variety of our culture about it than any other work I have made and it is because of that that I feel the piece needs to continue.

AP: Each individual piece of The Swarm is a drawing onto itself. Does each element have its own story? What goes into these little pieces, and how do they come together when you’re creating part of The Swarm?

RRC: The Swarm started out that way. I was concerned with each individual piece being its own drawing. That does not concern me so much any more. Since all of the pieces are torn up Intaglio and lithographic prints that I made I feel that my hand is deeply involved with the singles that make up the whole. I do not need to add more to fully realize the imagery. The little drawings that do find their way to the paper are visual delicacies to be found by an investigative viewer.

When I first started out The Swarm included many complete prints. This is no longer the case. The pieces are torn smaller now and I am using these tiny pieces to draw with. I want to create active visual spaces with thin lines and clusters. The clusters revolve around pieces with drawn images and the lines use pieces with no drawing and use a large amount of negative space. The viewers eye will “connect the dots” to see the images which are laid out before them.

AP: Besides art, you have a day-job and a family. How do you find time to work on your art? How do you prioritize it? Do you have a schedule or do you only work when inspired?

RRC: My schedule is frantic to say the least. One of the reasons The Swarm has been so good for me is that I can do it with a limited amount of space, which is what I have right now.

I make time to make art. Most of the work I am making now has been conceptually finished for years and I am just in the process of what I call basket weaving. The idea for The Swarm dates back to early 2000 for me. I have been kicking it around and figuring it out for years so now all I need to do is the easy part: construct it.

I spend a fair amount of time riding my bike. This time alone allows me to think about what is coming next and to plan my schedule of time in the studio.

AP: Tell us a bit about the road you are on now. What led up to taking on The Swarm and where might The Swarm take you?

RRC: The road I am on is winding and up and down with many tributaries flowing off of it. If I have learned anything in my life it is that I can take nothing for granted and I just have to forge ahead no matter what comes at me. I believe Chaos plays a huge role in all our lives, that being said I will say to you I have no clue where The Swarm will take me. I know this though, I will fight the Chaos to my best ability to get to the place I want to be, which is an artist who spends his days making art.

If you’re interested in getting to know RobRoy a little better, check out his website and follow him on Twitter!

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Eva Funderburgh works mostly in clay and porcelain, creating strangely cute and soft-looking creatures. Visiting her studio, I found myself surrounded by them, and even the unfinished or broken ones made me stop and take an extra look. What is this one doing? What is that one looking at? Eva’s creatures have a life of their own, even if they originally came from her.

To let the world get a good look at how these creatures come into existence, Eva has created a set of timelapse videos. One of them is embedded in the sidebar of this interview. It’s fascinating to watch the clay go from a blob to a sculpture, complete with explanatory captions. Apart from that, you will also see the attention to detail, patience and love that she pours into her work. I found it inspiring — and that enthusiasm came through when I met her in person as well.

Eva Funderburgh started working with clay in high school, after which she went on to study sculpture and chemistry at Carnegie Mellon University. After moving to Seattle she eventually co-founded Florentia Clayworks, where she works today with a small group of fellow artists.

AP: You seem to have found a personal niche in sculpting strange creatures. How did you end up there, and what is it about this niche that satisfies your creative urge?

EF: To some degree, I’ve always made my strange little beasties. When I look back at my elementary school doodles and middle school ceramic projects, a very high percentage of them were monsters and similar critters.

In college, my art education was pretty focused on installation and concept art, in addition to sculpture. While I’d planned all along to go into ceramics after I graduated, I spent a few years after graduation struggling to figure out who I was as an artist. I spent some time exploring functional pottery, and making a few experimental conceptual pieces. However, even as I was trying things like that, I was making scores of tiny monstery beasts, each about one to two inches long. They were just three dimensional doodles that I’d make with extra clay. However, it wasn’t until I started focusing on just the beasties that I really began to find my own voice as an artist.

While my creatures are pretty simple forms, they’re also extremely versatile. I’ve spent lots of time using them to explore movement, emotion and body language. In some ways, I feel more comfortable depicting emotion and story through animal forms than it would for human forms.

AP: What is your approach to starting a new piece? What’s the idea-process like?

EF: I have two main methods for starting new pieces. Either I start them from sketches, or I start by just getting some clay in my hands and seeing where it takes me. Each method contributes different qualities. The sketching allows me to develop an idea further and make more variations, while pieces that start in clay have a more spontaneous feel to them. Sometimes, a seed of an idea will lodge in the back of my head, and keep coming back in both clay and paper, in multiple iterations. My “City Beasts” are the best example of that. I just keep revisiting the idea, to find new aspects to capture.

AP: You make time-lapse videos of your work, you have lots of photos and a blog as well. Why is it important to you to share your workflow? What kind of feedback have you been getting?

EF: I really enjoy what I do, and find it fascinating. What amazes me and makes me happy is that other people do too. When I started my blog, it was as much to keep my friends and family informed with how my work was going. My day-to-day work was so different from what many of them do, especially considering a large number of them are software developers. However, once everything got going, I discovered how much fun it was to communicate with other artists and fans from across the world. It’s just been great

However, one weird side effect of all of this is that I’ve realized how differently I perceive my work than other people. I don’t mean the finished work, but rather the in progress pieces. Since the most critical aspects of a piece to me will be the lines, the movement, and the body language, that’s what I pay attention to. This means that from the sketch, (which looks like a scribble) to the early clay stages, (which looks like a blob), to the finished refined piece, I am mentally seeing the finished beast. It took me a while to realize that everyone else just sees blobs and scribbles. The timelapse videos are a way to try and deal with that, in a sense. It animates all the incremental changes, showing the smooth and continues progress from blob to critter, and showing how they’re really the same basic thing from start to finish. It’s also a treat for me, seeing a week’s worth of time collapsed into three minutes. I do end up worrying a little bit when I have the camera on, in case I make faces at my sculptures or something equally silly.

AP: You co-founded the studio Florentia Clayworks. What do you get out of being around other artists? Does it affect your work or merely inspire?

EF: Clayworks has been great for me. When I helped found it in ’06, I was by far the youngest and most inexperienced member. Sharing a space with 5 other artist, all with very different work and methods has been invaluable. It’s been great just seeing how other people go about things, and being in an environment where you can sit and talk about the technical and the philosophical aspects of ceramics has been a true treat.

Nowadays, we’ve grown to a total of eight members, and I’m one of the three remaining members of the original six. I’ve actually taken over the managing member position, meaning I handle most of the paperwork and what little accounting there is. It’s definite a change from being the new girl on the scene, the most inexperienced one. It’s strange to think about how I’ve grown along with the studio.

It’s hard to pin down exactly what visual influence we have on each other. While we do spend a fair amount of time talking about technique and methods, our own visual styles are all very different. We range from pottery to sculpture, made with all sorts of different techniques. I suspect we influence each other aesthetically, but it occurs in a way too subtle to see from within the studio. An outsider might be able to spot it, though. A stronger influence is probably the time we spend talking about other folks and famous artists and their methods.

AP: You’ve been on the artistic path ever since you were a kid. Where would you ultimately like it to lead and how do you plan on getting there?

EF: That’s hard to say. I’m happy with the way my work steadily evolves and grows. However, with the way it grows, I can’t see and tell you what sort of work I’ll be making two years in the future. If I could do that, I’d just make the pieces now, instead of waiting two years.

As far as professional and career goals, that’s also hard to pin down. Fame, fortune, and all that are pretty cool concepts, but not something it’s wise to predict for yourself or something that’s pleasant to gain overnight. I’ll be happy to keep making work, to keep sharing it with people, and to see where it goes from there.

In the shorter term, I’m glad to share something I’m pretty excited about, art wise. I’ll be spending five weeks as an artist in residence at Guldagergaard, an international ceramic research center located in Denmark. I want to use the chance to revisit my old work on installation and conceptual sculpture and to bring it together with my present work. In short, I’m hoping to build a giant installation of critters. I’m planning on spending my five weeks to build as many small flying creatures as I can, creating a giant swarm of flying beasts. I can’t wait to see how it comes together.

Learn more about Eva on her website, on Twitter, Flickr or Facebook – or head straight to her Etsy store and get a monster of your own.

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I attended an event aimed at local bloggers in late 2009. I felt kind of awkward there, under-dressed and belonging to a more artsy crowd than most other attendees. So, I was thrilled to find a table with crayons and people adding illustrations to drawings of coffee cups. That’s where I ran into Zaara, who is an illustrator and graphic designer. She runs her own studio — KittenChops.

Originally from Hungary, Zaara now lives and works in Seattle. Her style is very illustrative, organic and, dare I say cute. A style which has put her work on Starbucks coffee as well as the wrappers of Seattle gourmet chocolatiers, Theo Chocolate. More on that below, including a comment from Theo about Zaara’s design work.

AP: Your style is very organic and definitely has a hand-drawn feel. How did your style and look evolve into where it is today?

Originally I trained to be a graphic designer and got a job after graduation. It was amazingly wonderful that this job happened to be Starbucks Creative, where most of the work was very illustration oriented and the studio was full of amazing designers who were also wonderful illustrators and visual artists. It was a very nurturing and free creative environment with kindred spirits. Many friendships from back then still continue to this day.

The “organic” style was part of the brand and our job was to express it. This experience was my foundation. I also have natural inclination to a more feminine style and this got honed during the years with continued practice. Also the nature of the work I have been getting, calls for such an approach (nobody hires me to design a bank logo) so it builds upon itself in a way.

Zaara at her drawing table.

I really enjoy being able to visually express what a client has in their heart and mind (the essence of their project/brand/business). They know it, they have it but I am the one who brings it out for them in the shape of a logo or packaging. The best moment is when I feel the creative brief and the work under my hand align completely. That is such a joyful, YES! moment. Then being able to share that experience with the client and have them have the same “Yes, that is it exactly” epiphany is the best.

I very carefully consider the creative brief, their goals etc. Then I do research on their industry or any detail of the brief that seems particularly meaningful. Sketch and brainstorm a lot, the usual creative process in an intuitive way.

AP: After graduating, you worked as an in-house designer for Starbucks and now your run your own studio. How hard was it making that switch and what does it mean to you, to be your own boss?

Leaving my job was not much of a conscious decision. I did not have clients lined up or any serious business plan ready. I was simply really burned out and tired. I am a night owl and the strictly enforced “no matter what you have to be at your desk from 9-5″ became unsustainable for me. I worked a lot of late nights simply because that was when I did my best. Corporate could not allow for any flexibility at the time and I needed a change. I made the jump, I felt like I HAD TO.

Looking back, I marvel at myself. I might not have the guts today to leave the comfort of a steady paycheck — but super glad that it happened that way and KittenChops could be born. Now I can work/wake up/go on vacation any old time I please! Freedom, the feeling of unlimited possibilities is wonderful. I know I can do anything, it is only up to me and I know I do not have any excuses. Learning and practicing full responsibility on a daily basis is not easy but very rewarding when it works.

AP: In a town full of amazing artists and designers, how do you go about getting your work seen and marketing yourself?

I make sure that I receive credit with my work, both on printed pieces and online. I spec this ahead of time in my contract. This has been my main source of promotion so far.

AP: As a case example, you designed the wrappers for Seattle-based Theo Chocolate. How did that project come about, and could you take us through the process of these particular designs?

Theo came about after being referred to a portfolio review interview by a former Starbucks colleague. Then Theo picked me.

The initial objective was to establish two very different brands: Theo, the high end gourmet product line; the super high end 5th avenue of chocolates that would be set apart from competitors by the fact that it is made from scratch in a local factory “the only bean to bar chocolate”, and 3400 Phinney the fun, flavor oriented brand, that would communicate the fun nature of chocolate and make the factory a destination for people to visit.

There are real kitties at work too!

The Phinney brand was illustrated based on the flavor of each bar telling a little story. Cute and whimsical, featuring the flavor of the bar. My favorite one is “Bread and Chocolate” – a chocolate bar which has toasted bread morsels inside. In the illustration I have a baby kitten trying to sneak a lick of the molten chocolate her mom is making (ps: chocolate in real life is not safe for cats). So really light hearted and easy to emotionally respond to, yet expressing what the brand is about and making clear what the particular flavor is. Many times people have told me and written in my online guest book that their first purchase was brought about by the cute kittens.

Debra Music (VP Sales & Marketing) adds:
We wanted to capture the magic and sensuality of chocolate in a new way. Zaara was the perfect partner for us, because she’s not only a brilliant illustrator, she views the world differently herself. She never misses a chance to spread light and her sense of color and her imagination are boundless. Her ability to infuse the inanimate with life, and to blend colors and textures is amazing to me. Our labels have definitely been a source of wonderful feedback – over the years we’ve had multiple emails from folks telling us they had to buy and try our products because of the artwork. I’ve been to many buyers offices and seen one of our labels taped to their cube walls – they’re so beautiful people think twice before crumpling them up and tossing them in the recycling bin. That’s pretty special!

Please take the time to check out the KittenChops website, which has lots of examples of Zaara’s work (her snowboards are stunning!). There is also a blog and a Facebook page for your viewing pleasure.

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I found Frida Clements’ artwork on a sticker almost by accident one evening while attending a West Seattle Artwalk. Her style caught my eye and I sent her an e-mail asking if she would agree to do an interview. The meeting took place in her office at STG (Seattle Theater Group), where she works as the in-house designer with responsibility for everything from annual reports and brochures to venue signage. And that is just the tip of the iceberg for Frida, who has worked as a graphic designer for about a decade.

She also paints, is involved with a number of side projects and has a huge passion for silk screen printing. In particular band posters; the kind you might see in connection with a concert or a music festival. She even curates the poster show for the Sasquatch Music Festival, which involves more than 100 different designs. And did I mention that she is a mom too? Here is what she had to say about the things she does.

AP: You do all sorts of design work but seem to have a special love for screen printed posters. Where does this come from, and what is it about screen printing that’s so awesome?

FC: I think my initial fascination with screen printed rock posters probably started in high school. The 90’s were an amazing time for music and design in Seattle, and the impact those designers made on telephone poles, in venues and the weekly papers is still very much with us today. Once I figured out that I wanted to be a graphic designer, went through school and got a job, I had even more respect for people who were doing this kind of work. There is definite stability in being able to design collateral for corporate clients. Not so much in designing for local bands and printing in your basement. But that’s where the fresh, exciting and relevant work is and continues to be. Just log on to gigposters.com on any given day, I guarantee you’ll see work that inspires you.

What makes screen-printing so awesome (in my opinion) is that this is one of the last great traditional examples of graphic design as ART. When a poster is designed well, and the band represented is creating amazing work, there is an emotional connection for anyone who owns or appreciates that poster. Our world is getting faster, information is hitting us constantly… There are some record companies that still care about quality packaging and the experience of the listener (Sub-Pop & Barsuk are prime examples), but digital distribution of music has definitely taken over. The screen-printed poster still pays homage to music in a sincere and respectful way.

AP: You landed your first full time position through pro-bono work. What are your thoughts on that way of building business relationships? Would you recommend it to budding designers?

FC: Pro-bono work to gain experience or beef up your resume is great, IF it’s fun and is giving you the opportunity to shape your career in a way that makes sense for you. If the work isn’t fun, doesn’t make sense for your long term goals and is making you miserable, then you need to charge for your time. Or just say no. Design has undeniable value, yet there are always countless requests for free work from artists. Why should a graphic designer’s degree have less value than any other degree? Something to think about.

AP: As a freelancer, you made “serious money” but felt creatively limited. Where does the perfect balance between the two lie, according to you?

FC: The perfect balance probably doesn’t exist. Let’s face it, graphic design is a service industry. Designers exist to make everyone else look good, and to make the “looking good” look easy. It’s all hard work in this industry, no matter how you slice it. The more money you make, the bigger the clients are, the less creative freedom you have. On the flip side, the more fun the job is – not all of the time, but typically – the smaller the paycheck. It just depends on what drives you. Being able to feel like I have ownership of what I do creatively is a big deal to me, so I’ve had to make a few sacrifices along the way. I do believe if you are true to yourself things even out eventually.

AP: In your current job with STG you have a wide range of responsibilities. What is it about doing all these different things that appeals to you, as opposed to specializing in, say, poster design?

FC: This ties in with the previous question, most of what I do at STG is deadline driven. It’s not glamorous, and the volume is beyond comprehension depending on the time of year. But there are also opportunities here to create work that is extremely personal and meaningful for me as well, and I know from experience how rare that is. A couple other aspects that appeal to me here is a sense of ownership (hey, it’s just me!), and the experience of mentoring and giving opportunities to student interns. Being able to help someone carve their own creative niche in the world has definitely been personally rewarding.

AP: You curate the Sasquatch poster show, which means coordinating over 100 designs. Could you share a bit about your role, and what you walk away with at the end of the day?

FC: This came to be a few years ago when the festival increased to three full days and the producer feared he would not have time to manage finding a designer for each band as he had done in the past. I was upset to discover this, as I was obsessing over the band Beirut that year and desperately wanted to design a poster for them. So I volunteered for the job… And had no idea what I was getting myself into! It’s a huge task organizing that many designers, attempting not to piss anyone off, putting a show together… But ultimately it is worth it. I’ve met so many designers that I wouldn’t have otherwise, which I am really thankful for considering I’m pretty isolated in my position. Also, it makes me so happy when I see designers get recognition or new fans through being involved in the Sasquatch show. I feel like it’s become a collectively positive experience for all.

AP: You’re also involved in Flatstock, The Vera Project and art walks, all on top of being a mom and a self-proclaimed perfectionist. How do you manage your time?

FC: I have no idea how I manage my time. Honestly. I just somehow keep attempting to get through the endless to-do list. Life doesn’t stop when I leave the office, that’s for sure. I do know that having so little time inspires me to push myself harder to create when I can. I’m not producing as much inspired work as my peers that aren’t parents, but have been learning to accept reality and to be gentle with myself. Hopefully things will eventually calm down, I’ll live a good long life and there will be plenty of time for future works of genius.

For more on Frida Clements’ work, be sure to check out her website, her Facebook page and her GigPosters.com portfolio.

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1. Interview: The Twilight Artist Collective Erin Staffeld, Cheryl Robinson and Mary Enslow (front to back)...

Erin Staffeld, Cheryl Robinson and Mary Enslow (front to back) are the three owners and operators of the Twilight Artist Collective (TwAC). They have a boutique in the heart of West Seattle, where they show and sell the works of local artists. I meet up with them after a business meeting, and I’m immediately infected by their positive attitudes and, dare I say it, bubbliness. The store itself is full of bright colors and beautiful pieces of art. Were I not on a mission, I would probably spend half an hour just looking through the many pieces available. At the time of this interview, Twilight has about 70 associated artists, all of whom have an opportunity to have their work displayed and exposed for the local community. Each work of art typically has a shelf life of 60-90 days, and with that many talented artists, those shelves are never short of interesting work.

AP: You have an art boutique featuring the works of many artists. How did you get started and grow into the collective you are today?

TwAC (Mary): We got started, when after several hours of passionate discussion about making it as an artist. We spoke of artists like ourselves falling out of the scene after college and getting trapped in the work world, never to produce art again. We felt the need to create a space for us and people like us. Cheryl and I had been working as a part of the Special Projects crew for One Reel Productions at the time. Erin and I had just returned the year before from a study abroad program in Rome, when this whole thing started to grow. Erin and Cheryl had not yet met.

I had been designing purses and selling them in various locations, one of my outlets was a shop in the Pike Place Market that would soon become the home of Twilight Artist Collective. We got word that this store was going out of business. After a few energized meetings Erin, Cheryl and myself were signing over checks and starting a venture that had all the passion and good intention in the world, but not much actual structure.

During the first year we found ourselves in a sort of business 101 reality show. We learned by doing, reaching out for guidance and following our senses. Looking back it was ridiculous, but when your young and passionate, anything is possible. In January of 2007, Twilight was in a good spot, we had started paying ourselves a small monthly stipend and felt that we had the potential and know-how to get bigger and better. We stumbled upon a great location in the West Seattle Junction, where we had all been living for a few years, and decided to go for it.

We realized after keeping two stores afloat for 1.5 years, that we had too much on our plates and that to survive and provide the quality of service we hold ourselves to, we needed to pull out of the Pike Place Market location and re-focus on our ever growing, beautiful West Seattle location. As a trio, we’ve faced everything together and subsequently make a powerhouse partnership.

AP: When new artists want to join, how do you decide if that person’s work is good enough?

TwAC: We look at the quality of the work first and foremost. We expect work to look finished. The artist must show a certain amount of respect for his own work. We look for work that has an edge; if it’s got a great or compelling concept, shows amazing skill or attention to detail, or if it’s just plain great fun. The work must be new for the viewer. We do consider price point, if the work is out of our range we encourage the artist to pursue the big time galleries. As I said, we are here to be a stepping stone into the art world for artists that want to continue along this challenging path.

Once we are working with the artist we are in a business together and we expect our artists to be active business partners. We don’t continue relationships with people who’s only interest is in dropping off their art and leaving it for us to sell. We want to have an ongoing dialogue that teaches both us and them how to serve eachother better.

Our most successful artists are the ones who take an active role in their position here. We appreciate artists who attend events, promote events, network and are otherwise engaged in the community. These artists are the ones who reap the most benefit as a member, their work sells with greater frequency, because we are equipped with a greater knowlegde of them and their work. This story adds a great amount of value to the work itself. People want to know what inspires art.

AP: You participate in local art walks, you have a twitter account, a blog and more. What does community building mean to you as opposed to traditional advertising?

TwAC: Because we are an art gallery, we do not generate a huge amount of profit. We’ve found these free options to be essential tools for us to communicate with Seattle and our greater community.

Twilight has grown organically from the get-go. Each artist that becomes engaged has a personal experience with Twilight, this goes for our customers as well. Because all the work has a story that is in some form tangible to us all, as humans, coming into twilight is not a standard shopping experience, a platform for interesting dialogue is set and more often than not they begin. Kids express insights and their parents learn something new about their childs mind. Art evokes powerful emotions. The converstations and ideas that are generated inspire us and when we are inpired we are compelled to share. Word of mouth is the greatest marketing tool we have and is a natural product of the environment we offer people.

AP: You’ve been around for more than 5 years, and with art being such a luxury item, how do you deal with tough times like the current recession?

TwAC: Hard work and dedication with a large amount of ingenuity and faith. We realized during the recession that people tend to go one of two ways, they either fold in and spiral down, or they reassess and replan for a sustainable approach. Many people become responsible in a new way, they buy less of what they don’t need and wait to buy the perfect something that will fullfil their consumer itch and give them a the greater gift, that art provides.

Learning how valuable art is, can be difficult. If you grew up in an environment where the only value came from getting more for less, it may be challenging to understand how buying one piece of art that makes you smile every time you see it, is actually more valuable than buying a huge artificial something or other, that only costs $10, but ultimately brings you nothing but more stuff. We had some customers who would save and save for the perfect piece of art. Our loyal customers know that if they want us here, they have to support us being here. We did see that support even in the toughest of times. We are very grateful!

AP: Surely, there are easier ways to make a living. What do you get out of running the Twilight Artist Collective, as opposed to having “regular” jobs?

TwAC: Well, we do both. We all support ourselves independently of Twilight. This is a question we’ve asked ourselves several times and we keep coming to the same conclusion: we can’t not do it. We care too much about what we’ve started and what we believe in to stop. We’ll be here until something tells us, its time to stop.

This experience has absolutely changed us for the better, both collectively and individually. We’ve been able to build something from the ground up. It’s something that we believe in and this is a very empowering accomplishment. Once you have a taste of this sort of gratification, you really can’t go back. Living with purpose and meaning is invaluable. The day we can back off our other jobs and work here more, will be a great day, both for us and for the community. We have so many more things we want to pursue as Twilight Artist Collective and we’ve got the foundation to provide these things. Our other jobs have value because they enable us to run Twilight, but ultimately we want to put all of our time and energy into TwAC.

Check out the Twilight Artist Collective’s website for more about upcoming shows and events. There is also a Facebook page and a Twitter feed, you can subscribe to.

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