Designed for German alpine troops, the original Gebirgsjäger is recognized as a classic bit of military gear. In recent years, it’s been replicated and manufactured in China, with original packs harder to find.
I bought my first Gebirgsjäger rucksack as an undergraduate art student, and then sold it nearly two decades later to a mate in Sydney after traveling with it all over the world. It had barely aged.
About a year ago, I purchased a second from (the famous) Jim Korn of Kaufman’s Army & Navy in Hell’s Kitchen. This one became the source material for my re-envisioning process.
Why is the Bundeswehr rucksack a classic? Here are three of my favorite features:
Firstly, (thanks to some clever stitching) the side pouches allow for skis or poles to be inserted vertically behind them. Not a common feature on a civilian pack, but maybe it would be of use when returning from the Home Depot with a pair of baseboards.
Secondly, the internal sleeve at the rear of the pack accepts a folding sleeping mat which also doubles as back support when inserted. This seems a spiritual predecessor to the now hip FjällRäven Kånken, which was originally designed for students. The Kånken No.2 includes a siting pad placed in a similar position.
Thirdly, the overall style is similar to the packs my G.I. Joes used to hump around the battlefield of my bedroom floor in the eighties. And that’s pretty dope.
In July of 2018 I took the first prototype of a paper version with me to Bali for a bit of field testing.
It was a good first outing, and provided some useful insights. My plan is to refine the pack in the next few months, and then give it a second field test over four weeks in August while patrolling on my Santa Cruz Chameleon in SE Asia.
I also drafted four lines that explain what the pack ultimately represents in its re-envisioning:
It’s not about what you have, but what you leave behind. It’s not about seeking comfort, but embracing the tension. It’s not about getting somewhere else, but being where you are. It’s not about what’s currently trending; it’s about what is ultimately timeless.
The “Track Light” series serves to briefly introduce a number of individuals involved with the One World Artist Gallery (OWAG) from their various places around the globe.
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Today, I talk with Spanish illustrator and photographer María Uve.
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John: Hi Maria! I was excited when you first contacted me through Instagram about collaborating on a DrawBag.
María: John! Sorry for the delay in finishing everything.
John: No, no, you weren’t late. Everything is in it’s right time. I’m just happy to have connected with you.
John: I’ve recently made more contact with artists in Spain as there is quite a wealth of talent there. Elena Pancorbo had just finished an original design on a DrawBag before you and I first spoke, and Jesuso Ortiz was also a collaborator early on. What is the artistic community like where you are in Vigo?
María: Well… the truth is that I live in a part of my country with a very small artistic community. The larger groups of artists in Spain are really in the capital, but thanks to online social networks I have met artists of many nationalities and that has enriched me a lot.
John: The idea of community is continually being redefined in terms of its borders through technology, isn’t it?
María: Yes, and I think we should really support one other instead of competing because if our related community wins… really, we all win.
John: Where did you get your training as an artist and with what different media do you work?
María: I studied illustration, photography, and graphic design at EASD Antonio Faílde (School of Art & Design) in Ourense, Spain and have spent the past year and a half dedicating myself professionally to my profession– illustrating book covers, being exhibited in galleries, publishing my own book, and collaborating with various magazines.
John: Your style is quite recognizable. Were there other artists whose work influenced you in your own development of this style?
María: I think we are all influenced by everything. By other artists for their music, by the cinema, etc… I could not tell you specific names, though, because I try to escape the similarities.
John: I’ve been really inspired by a handful of female artists who I’ve discovered this past year primarily through Instagram… #zipcy and #littlethunder being two others beside yourself.
You are all quite different in expression, but seem to be similar in that your artwork embraces love, sexuality, the body, and emotional intimacy in ways that are neither prudish nor porn. Your work celebrates a genuine and nuanced eroticism that I think has otherwise been cheapened over time by happy endings to romantic comedies, free streaming porn, and the convenience store of online dating. Truly falling in love with oneself or others is not something we click to purchase, but must engage in with our whole being to experience both its heights and depths. But that’s my perspective, of course, haha. What is it that you are doing when you create your artwork? What are you communicating through it?
María: Obviously, artists expose themselves to having a free interpretation on the part of the receiver and that is inevitable. But yes… I am communicating precisely that which you just expressed: the importance of feeling good about oneself, experiencing love in healthy ways, de-objectifying the body as only a sexual object, making relationship a natural part of our conversation, respecting all kinds of people and all types of relationships, and breaking conventions and traditional values.
John: There are quite a few symbols and motifs you return to in your work, including what I assume to be the red thread of fate from Chinese folklore, creeping yellow vines, tiny phrases in blue on the body, the serpent, skeletons, and various images of the galaxy.
Can you share a bit about your wider perspective on life and why we are here? Where we are going? And how that is reflected in your current stage of art making?
María: Well, I wish I knew why we are here! I guess my perspective is as simple as finding happiness and satisfaction within myself, without hurting anyone or anything else.
John: Fair enough. I think a lot of young artists would be very jealous of the 300K followers you currently have on Instagram. How did you gather that global following? Did it take long for people to find your work on Instagram?
María: I think there are no jealous artists. We are all non-conformists. Perhaps we can get too focused on how things are going with others, but I always encourage artists to support one another and help share one another’s work with the world. I think everyone deserves to have the same possibilities for success.
And the truth is that I do not know how all my followers came about… but it was fast. In just over a year I suddenly went from having 150 “friends” to 300,000.
John: There can be fine line between genuine expression of oneself and finding a strong following in that… and then monetizing that expression into a product for sale which loses its original intent. How have you kept your artistic journey genuine and connected to its source?
María: I didn’t monetize my work until recently, when my first book was published. I always have some prints available for sale in case someone wanted them but I never advertised until now, because it has been important to grow my work first.
John: And how many new pieces of work do you make… say, per week?
María: One or two.
John: Tell me more about the book Nosotros which you recently published.
María: It’s about self-improvement after failed relationships. At the moment I do not have a version in English… only in Spanish. Everything in time, though.
John: What else fills your life besides from art making?
María: I love animals and nature in general… music, movies, reading, and traveling. Too many things and only one life!
The “Track Light” series serves to briefly introduce a number of individuals involved with the One World Artist Gallery (OWAG) from their various places around the globe.
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Today, I talk with American illustrator, animator, and artist Zharia Shinn.
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John: Your paper and fabric work is stunning!
I want to ask first about the design you created on your DrawBag, because it was linked to the AfroPunk Festival in Brooklyn that occurred this past summer. Can you tell us a bit about that event and your design?
Zharia: The AfroPunk Festival is, “an annual arts festival that includes live music, film, fashion, and art produced by black artists,” originating in Brooklyn, New York. At the heart of this incredible gathering is a celebration of difference, acceptance, blackness, and empowerment. I have always been an admirer of the movement and festival over the years, so finally getting a chance to attend this summer ’18 was incredible to say the least.
I am in awe of the fashion and creativity that is made in preparation for AfroPunk, which ultimately inspired my bag. The patterns, colors, and lines all speak to my take on the colorfulness and vast array of personality that oozes from the punks, outcasts, rejects, geeks, freaks, and everyone in between whom this movement fosters. My style is very shape-based and involves collaging materials from multiple sources that ultimately become one design. An abstracted face with my initials “Z.S.” camouflaged in the background creates the overall design with the phrase “The Future Is Afro And Punk” below. The incorporation of hand sewn thread is a new addition to my style that I wanted to experiment with. I am happy with the outcome and I hope to experiment in this way again in the future.
John: Where did you grow up and what were your first experiences of art?
Zharia: My childhood and early stages of my life were mostly rooted in parts of Florida, and California.
Art has always been with me since I can remember. I was constantly drawing on something. A piece of paper and a pencil was all I needed and I would still be where you left me, drawing for hours on end. My mother loves to recount a day when I was little where I came up to her when she was working and told her, “Mommy, I am an artist.” She said she knew then and there, I was telling her who I am and that has never changed.
A lot of my art experiences were at pubic school and art institutions during the summer at the Academy of Art University. My craft didn’t become more than a passion until high school, when I made the decision to apply to art school. The way that I currently work and collage did not come into fruition until the later years of my undergrad at Rhode Island School of Design, with the support of my instructors and peers.
John: You’ve been an art instructor as well yourself, yes? What has that been like? Do you think of that as a natural outgrowth of being an artist?
Zharia: My instructor experience has been very informal and I’m realizing over the years that I think this type of education is what I enjoy the most so far. From the role of an art camp counselor to collage workshop instructor, I have learned much more about not only being an educator but a student. It is a role that truly takes someone who wants to leave a situation better than they left it. Someone that wants change, both in their classroom and in themselves. Education will do that to you, and I look forward to immersing myself in more educational roles down the line.
Attending RISD and other art institutions has shown me that not only are there countless ways to receive education and knowledge, but to educate, you first need to understand your audience. Just like an artist should try and understand who their art is touching, so should an educator understand their student and how to better reach them.
John: Earlier this year you had an exhibition in Vienna. How did that come about and what was the experience like?
Zharia: I honestly do not know where to start with answering this question. I could go on and on about Vienna but I will try to keep it short.
In the months leading to graduation, I was approached by the Canadian illustrator Peter Diamond based in Vienna to be a part of a group exhibition of 16 illustrators called “Go West!”. The goal of the show was to bring American illustration to Vienna in hopes to create a larger conversation surrounding the importance and integrity of this tool of communication. Furthermore, showcasing the many facets, and varied visual culture coming out of the states was a piece of the puzzle as well. Another illustrator and myself were the only artists straight out of school so having pieces in a line up of story tellers who are renowned and highly qualified was intimidating, to say the least. But remembering that my work stood with theirs was one of the biggest compliments I could ever receive being so new to illustration myself. I appreciate what Peter Diamond saw in my work and I plan to have others see it too.
My works from the series “Fabric Lineage” were included in the show, accompanied by fabric swatches used to create the series in 2016. In addition, I had the privilege to be able to help with press of the show, give a small speech at the opening, and create and instruct a collage workshop hosted at Designaustria.
Designaustia, housed inside of the MuseumQuartier, made a lot of this possible and having the chance to be in such an incredibly creative place such as Vienna, Austria is something I will never forget. This trip was also my first time being outside of the county so I look forward to expanding my horizons and making more memories outside of the states.
John: There is one clear element you share with a number of the artists you have referenced as influences (such as Kehinde Wiley and Mickalene Thomas) which is a strong use of pattern in portraiture. What does pattern mean to you in the context of portraiture?
Zharia: Pattern is one of the many tools I use in my abstracted portraits to get my message across. As I experiment with it over the years, I’ve leaned that it can be useful in distorting what the eye sees and redirecting a focus. Every pattern tends to have the same level of “importance’ and works on the same plane field in pieces of mine. I like to use it as an alternative to color and a way to break up the surface to bring life and tactility to the flatness created in my portraits. In more symbolic terms, pattern is also a chance for me to abstract the way we see something so familiar to us, such as the human face.
John: Euan Uglow is also an artist you’ve mentioned as an influence. On the surface his work seems quite different, but I get a sense that both his use of color and the very constrained, intentional backgrounds or contexts of his nude portraits may have been a point of contact. Am I way off?
Zharia: Euan Uglow is a loose influence of mine because of my introduction to him during my foundation lessons of oil painting at RISD. I admire the way he breaks up the human body in geometric shapes of colors and its slight gradients. In the same vein, I have found ways to abstract the human face in my own way with organic shapes. His use of restrained color is also phenomenal and I am inspired to experiment with how I use color in expressive ways too.
John: One of your works I really love is Fabric Lineage. Can you tell me more about the women depicted as well as your choice of fabric to create the piece?
Zharia: It all started with my liberal arts course, “Black Female Body”, taught by Bolaji Campbell I took a few years ago. One of our lectures focused on the history of quilting and the fascinating role African-American women had in it’s sustain- ability and life long craftsmanship. Traditionally sold and created for white households, slave quilters rarely had the opportunity to create personal quilts for themselves. They collected scraps of fabric and materials that were discard- ed and sewed elaborate designs for personal use and necessity.
I was in awe of these accounts of history I never knew before and began personal research and exploration into this art form. This birthed my interest in collaging portraits of the women in my family out of found materials and discarded fabrics a few years back. Each portrait was a collection of designs, colors, and textures I deemed suitable in describing each member; Big Mama (great grandmother), Mom, Laura (cousin), Marta (step-mother). Created in that order, Marta was the last of the Fabric Lineage Series, where I grew comfortable in this experimental approach.
Elevating black women through materials seen as mundane and unattractive spurred a conversation that was new and engaging to me. The importance of this notion is one of admiration, awareness, and acknowledgment. Admiration of the role these women have had in my life, showing me what strength truly looks like. Awareness of black history and what my people are capable of, even through the worst possible circumstances. Acknowledgment of the hardships my ancestors and black people today go through, trying to heal piece by piece. Tackling such a dark past is never easy but creating this therapeutic series pushed me to reach deeper into subject matter that I am very passionate about.
The Fabric Lineage was the beginning of a major change in my artistic style, voice and reason “why?”
John: How essential is color to your work? Could you survive if you were forced into blue or grey period of your own?
Zharia: The erratic use of color is a distinctive quality to my expression and ultimate style of collage. Although my work is anything but, I really admire minimalism and works that are limited and restrained. Creating pieces that are emotional with color, and yet disciplined in how they come together is something I am very interested in. The use of color is admittedly unpredictable, but there is a method to my madness.
John: Afrofuturism may be something a lot of readers aren’t aware of, although they probably know Tribe, Kendrick Lamar, and the recent Black Panther film. What has been your interest in and connection to it?
Zharia: Afrofuturism is a “philosophy of science…and history that explores the developing intersection of African culture and technology.” The major aspects of this movement celebrate and explore black culture, African roots, technology, and innovation. Names that come to mind when I think of this movement are Sun Ra, Janelle Monae, Erykah Badu, and Octavia E. Butler. My fascination with Afrofutursim started a few years back in a course I took during college about the relationship between racism and location. Ever since, I have grown interest in consuming media that investigates empowering philosophies such as these.
John: How do you think stereotypes can be used (rather than denied) in conversation about our differences? Is it a constructive tool, or one to dismantle? Or maybe both?
Zharia: Stereotypes, positive or negative, will always be a narrow view that do not show the whole picture of a group. They are dangerous tools that people constantly face and subconsciously or consciously try to counteract, and at times, feed into. I believe it’s important to acknowledge stereotypes, understand how they undermine a said group, find ways to subvert them in conversations, and ultimately empower, not disfranchise. A simple way to start is to do personal research, ask questions, and listen. Gaining personal knowledge of a group that you are referring to or in conversation with will always foster understanding, which can help disrupt violence from ignorance.
John: If you had to state it in one sentence, why are you an artist?
Zharia: I am an artist because this is my soul purpose on this Earth, and God gave me this gift for reasons bigger than myself.
John: Part of the larger woven pattern of the universe…
Some years ago I was cycling through a SE Asian country with a small group and stopped at a rural monastery. A local guide we were riding with told us that the temple there was well-known for a Buddhist monk that many years before had died but whose body had not decomposed after death. In fact, he looked just as fresh as the day he died, and the flower petals that had been sprinkled upon his body at death had likewise remained fresh and fragrant to the present.
Intrigued, we asked if it were possible to see the body of the deceased monk.
“Of course,” the guide replied, and led us to a temple structure where we removed our shoes before entering.
Inside, the walls were adorned with beautiful carvings and paintings. At the back sat an elderly monk, meditating in lotus position. He was as still as death, and yet his eyes seemed to penetrate us when we crossed the beam of their gaze. In the center on the small temple was a glass case on a dais, and within rested the deceased monk.
Stealing up to the case with some awkward reverence and nervousness, the group looked in on the body silently. Fresh flower petals indeed garnished the orange-garbed monk’s corpse as he lay still on his back, hands folded over his belly.
After a time, each of us slipped back outside and replaced our shoes in silence. After a time, a few began to speak.
“Do you think it was real?”
“He did look good for so long dead…”
“Could those flowers really be..?”
Seeing the local guide nearby, I drew him aside and spoke.
“Hey… that monk is as dead as any other. Well-preserved, maybe, but dead just the same… he doesn’t look as fresh as the day he died.”
“Yes,” the guide said, motioning for me to speak quietly. “Of course. And the flowers are replaced daily.”
“Then, why..?” I asked.
“It is not easy to see through delusion,” he replied. “But a good joke is still the best way.”
It’s very likely they will instead begin to experience,
And in real time,
And if they’re out there dancing with life
Instead of securing themselves against it,
There comes a very real threat to the security of something else.
Fiddler Jones by Edgar Lee Masters
The earth keeps some vibration going There in your heart, and that is you. And if the people find you can fiddle, Why, fiddle you must, for all your life. What do you see, a harvest of clover? Or a meadow to walk through to the river? The wind’s in the corn; you rub your hands For beeves hereafter ready for market; Or else you hear the rustle of skirts Like the girls when dancing at Little Grove. To Cooney Potter a pillar of dust Or whirling leaves meant ruinous drouth; They looked to me like Red-Head Sammy Stepping it off, to “Toor-a-Loor.” How could I till my forty acres Not to speak of getting more, With a medley of horns, bassoons and piccolos Stirred in my brain by crows and robins And the creak of a wind-mill–only these? And I never started to plow in my life That some one did not stop in the road And take me away to a dance or picnic. I ended up with forty acres; I ended up with a broken fiddle– And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories, And not a single regret.
“The digitized picture has broken the relationship between the picture and reality once and for all. We are entering an era when no one will be able to say whether a picture is true or false. They are all becoming beautiful and extraordinary, and with each passing day they belong increasingly to the world of advertising. Their beauty, like their truth, is slipping away from us. Soon they will really end up making us blind.”
As a studio art major in an American college, I had a professor of photography and film who told me there was a time when Da Vinci’s Mona Lisaexisted in only one place, and you had to travel a great distance to view it.
That one place was The Louvre in Paris.
Now, he said, the Mona Lisa exists everywhere, and all at once.
(Well, actually “now” was back then in 1998. He was referring to photographs and printed versions of the Mona Lisa at the time, when the internet was still just emerging, public content-wise. But I think his statement is only more true today.)
What is the difference between looking at an image of the Mona Lisa and traveling to the Louvre to see the real thing?
It’s not that one is wrong and the other is right.
But what is the difference?
And what are the possibilities or consequences of technology advancing further and further into the virtual?
What is the difference between pornography and a flesh-and-blood human relationship?
What is the difference between buying into a brand and creating your own?
What is the difference between accepting what you were taught and questioning the nature of reality?