The Beauty Surrounding Me — A Conversation with Anne-Louise Ewen

Los Angeles based artist, Anne-Louise Ewen, grew up in a small town on the Mississippi River in South Louisiana known equally for the beauty of its antebellum architecture as for its proliferation of toxic chemical plants. Anne-Louise’s work includes paintings, prints, drawings, sculpture, ceramics and books. In the current time of deep unrest in the United States, she wrestles to make paintings that she personally and viscerally finds beautiful while not being in denial of the dark realities we are facing as a society.

In the summer between second and third grade, I met one of my first art mentors in a chance encounter and spent that summer learning the fundamentals of drawing with charcoal, a formative experience which established visual art as a core element of my life. As a teen, I attended the Louisiana School for Math, Science and the Arts (a magnet boarding school) and concentrated on a curriculum of fine art, followed up by spending two years abroad studying figure drawing, printmaking and painting in Paris, France. I relocated from New Orleans to Los Angeles in 2005 following the massive upheaval caused by Hurricane Katrina and went on to pursue a college degree in philosophy which led me to later founding The Donaldsonville Art Colony, a collective of painters, writers, musicians, and filmmakers. I drew upon this experience years later when I opened my art gallery in Costa Mesa, California in 2007.

Creating is a powerful antidote to many of the world’s ills. It reminds me of humanity’s better nature. When I’m creating, I feel like I belong more on this planet than at any other time. Being creative is similar to being resourceful; having the ability to make something out of what you have at hand and do it elegantly when possible. Mere consumption and survival are not enough—the urgency in surpassing this is a part of what drives us to create.

I will never actually identify as or with the term of being a “creative”. For me, that expression always implies creative work that is applied to a commercial endeavor for the main purpose of making money. Don’t get me wrong—I very much like making money, but one thing that is important to me is remembering that there is a difference between art and commerce. And when you’re making art, you can start from a place that is not about marketing and selling and making a buck, but rather aim to create beautiful things that transcend oppression, violence, hate, ignorance and existential ennui.

To be frank, and I know this goes against a lot of contemporary art career advice, I don’t think it’s helpful, as an artist, to concern yourself with finding a style. It’s something that develops from experimenting and playing, and following a thread to something that you love. I’m still curious to see how I will paint or draw this or that. I try to make things that are beautiful to me and that I want to have around. I guess I’ve been painting for long enough that there is a lot of partially conscious, subtle figuring going on inside, but there’s always some aspect of leaping into the void. The key for me is to find a balance between bold spontaneity and calm deftness.

I believe that art’s highest good is as an outpost of freedom and a trigger of joy. I’m interested in art that makes me feel in love with the world, and I believe that artists have the ability and responsibility to restore humanity through what we do. Some have said that looking at my work makes them feel more free and alive, and I’d consider that my biggest accomplishment and the highest compliment.

---

I grew up in a dynamic where the people I came in contact with were either utterly indifferent to the creative work I was doing, or they were actively antagonistic (with many exceptions, of course!). Over the years, I, therefore, developed in a way that preferred working in isolation—my creative community was made up of the dead artists that I loved, like Matisse and Picasso and of the classical music or jazz on the radio, beaming in from Baton Rouge or New Orleans.

In recent years my creative community has changed some, but it’s a hard habit for me to break. I used to think that I didn’t have anything to say about my work, but now when someone visits my studio, I really enjoy the dialogues that come out of their questions and observations. I love it when someone experiences a connection with something I’ve made, and they say it makes them feel more free, happy and alive. That’s a fantastic part of the equation that was missing from my creative pursuits for a long time.

Surprisingly, my community of artists these days is greatly made up of musician-composers (the most important being my husband, Tyler Sabbag, who is a part of a team of composers best known for their work on the Netflix series, Street Food and Chef’s Table.). I love that they believe, value and understand things that can’t be seen, and this is the kind of person that I like to be around. It’s a never-ending source of fascination for me to discuss the similarities in our work processes. In both of our worlds, we must proceed by a kind of faith and hope to enter a state of grace where the composition evolves into something profoundly wonderful.

---

---

Creativity is renewing. When I’m feeling bummed out and don’t feel like I have it in me to paint, however, I may choose to simply work in a different medium, maybe ceramics one day, or I’ll make candles or play ukulele instead. Sometimes, just taking a break and sitting down to a good meal in a pretty setting will do the trick. I also appreciate the way that travel gives me a chance to be “the me” that I am without the errands and the to-do list crowding in on me, allowing me to find the space I need to dream again.

Pursue your creativity—Don’t overthink it.

Feel your way. Play.

Creative inspiration can come from anywhere though I do find I regularly find creativity in the beauty surrounding me. There is so much power in beauty to nourish and soothe us—a trip to Huntington Gardens in Pasadena, seeing my friend Teressa Foglia’s beautiful hats on Instagram, opera, baseball— I want to amplify that and bring it into people’s lives. I’m interested in seeing what happens next. The best times are when it feels like I just get to show up, set up my materials and ride the ride. I often feel as many artists do—like it’s not me making the work but some force passing through me.

---

I love seeing other people’s beautiful, well-organized studios, but the one I have currently is not that. When we first moved in, my studio was dark green. You can see that I painted it white and hung up the string of lights to brighten it up. We’ve regularly moved from rental house to rental house in Los Angeles for the last decade so my studios have had to adapt to what’s available both in terms of space and finances.

We moved to our current house thinking that the garage would make a pretty decent studio for me. It’s not too small, though it’s always a challenge to find more storage. Unfortunately, it turns out it also leaks terribly in the rain, as well as, fills with dust and leaves from the area’s frequent wind storms. The first curtain I hung across the opening blew away in a windstorm, but this one has held for over a year, fingers crossed. On a positive note, my studio has several walls for me to tack up my canvas to paint on plus space for my paints and brushes and other assorted art supplies. I also built cinder block shelves that I added to hold my art books and other treasures. If I waited around for the perfect space I wouldn’t get anything done, so I make it work. (On a side note, we’re house hunting again, and we’ve agreed that we’ll be happy with a tiny living space as long as we have vast spaces for our studios.)

My studio is pretty quiet, apart from my husband composing next door, and it has good energy which is important. Our house is an extension of my studio; I have an area for ceramics and candles, am often making at the kitchen table and use the living room as my rotating art gallery for studio visitors.

As an alternative, I’ve tried renting a studio space away from home, but this didn’t work for me. I need to live with my studio so I can wander out with a cup of coffee in the morning to see what I made the night before. I need to be able to carry wet paintings into the house to live with them a while and see what they feel like.

Realistically, it can be incredibly challenging to carve out the space you need, and you might find you have to be quite resourceful and flexible to make things work. I feel it is important to set up a creative space whatever the size so that it feels like your secret clubhouse hideout from childhood; someplace that you stock with the supplies that will excite you. If you don’t have a room, have a stocked suitcase that you can bring out and conjure that sacred space where you are free to do whatever you want. When I lived in New York City for a year, I had no studio space and so I turned to making small hand-bound art books of tiny paintings. The studio and the work will influence each other. Your available space doesn’t have to hold you back from making something. In our last house, I set up a giant tent in the backyard!

I think it’s an accomplishment to overcome these challenges and not let them hold me back from creating. I have a vision in my head of my ideal studio…big, bright and clean, with plenty of storage for finished work…I’ll get there eventually.

ANNE-LOUISE’S PAINTING MANIFESTO

• Aim to proceed with a devil-may-care work ethic, both cheerful and reckless to investigate, invent and rediscover.

• Let the first-hand personal experience of aesthetic arrest be the true north that guides me, allowing room for an epiphany.

• Aim for nothing less than to create things that transcend oppression, violence, hate, ignorance and existential ennui.

• Focus on the music over the lyrics. In other words, though there are recognizable objects in my paintings, the subject matter (the “lyrics”) is not what primarily motivates me.

• Be virtuous in sharing my work​ with the world

“IMPORTANT” ART

I feel strongly that people should be more discerning about when they use the word “important” to describe art. Often what they mean is that a particular work of art or artist is currently influential, popular or expensive. This does not make it important. What the world needs more of are cultural offerings, which inspire and strengthen humanity's more virtuous qualities like empathy, sensitivity to beauty and love of life.

MORE ON ANNE-LOUISE

Online store: EwenStudio.com

Portfolio: EwenFineArt.com

---

“Creativity takes courage.”—Henri Matisse

Unafraid of Life: A Conversation with @ablicki

a conversation with Max Ablicki about life, photography, and lessons from the road. | This story originally ran in FOLK’s Tourists Welcome issue.

I FIRST GOT INTO PHOTOGRAPHY IN HIGH SCHOOL, JUST AS I WAS SORT OF STRETCHING MY LEGS WITH THE NEWFOUND FREEDOM OF HAVING A DRIVER’S LICENSE. I started by simply taking cell phone pictures of the places I’d drive my Jeep, and from there it sort of blossomed into this joy of exploring and sharing the experience of travel, and overall just being present in the moment.

I’m mainly self-taught; however, the first few months with my camera were certainly full of YouTube tutorials and talks with my friends who knew a bit about the craft. The good thing about a camera is that at the end of the day, it’s really just a tool. Once you understand the functions of the tool, you can use it however you need to. I think anyone can pick up a camera nowadays and take some pretty beautiful pictures with just a little playing around, but working on a style is what truly begins to set photos apart and highlight the tastes and ideas of each photographer.

I feel that my own style has been, and probably always will be a work in progress. I started in the early days by mimicking what others were doing on Instagram, but it doesn’t take long to realize that’s not a fulfilling or enjoyable way to practice an art. So over time I began to simply take photos of things that I’m passionate about, and played around with different editing styles and shooting styles before ultimately settling on my current approach, which is to shoot as close to the finished product as possible, and then lightly edit. I like to balance my color images with the occasional black and white, since each one has its own benefits and drawbacks and I don’t want to limit myself to one domain in that area. My current images are intended to show the things that inspire me in an almost photojournalistic kind of way—at the end of the day, it’s an account of me and the things I enjoy, presented in a way that I hope is enjoyable for many.

The themes I explore in my work started out pretty basic, just showing my physical travels in my old car. But as we all know, the more you travel the more you realize travel is a lot bigger than where you physically are. It changes who you are as a person. So now the themes that I try to cultivate and share with my audience are to be unafraid of life, and to be open to inspiration from anything and everything, whatever that may mean to any person who sees my content. I’ve been called a renaissance man for my diverse array of random passions and skills, and I want people to feel similarly encouraged and charged up to be unafraid to try new skills and chase all of their different passions, instead of living with blinders on, chasing one dream and ignoring everything else that’s beautiful around them.

Finding my subjects and locations is almost completely random. Some locations, I hear about through word of mouth and recommendations from friends (though it’s pretty rare you’ll catch me at the known “Instagram banger” spots anymore!); others I find on my own just by perusing maps and/or simply coming across amazing spots on the side of the road. I’m guided by my passions and interests, so at the end of the day whether I’m shooting on a mountain summit, in a canoe, in a restaurant, a luxury home or an off-the-grid cabin, it’s because I am really, really excited and grateful to be there. The people I photograph are typically friends who accompany me on my adventures or share my passions. Again, having an openness to experience and to living opens up the opportunity for you to stop on the side of the road to take a great photo or to talk to an interesting stranger who might show or teach you something incredible.

The way in which I compose a shot depends on the scenario. If I’m shooting a professional project, I often have an idea of what a client expects, and an understanding of the situation I’m dealing with, and therefore might have a few shots in mind or a loose outline of what I’d like to capture. If I’m just out on the road freestyling, pretty much anything goes.

Everything around me inspires my work! I love taking photos, and if I can photograph the things and the people that I love, then I will. I love to cook, I love to get outside and explore, I love to surf, I love hole-in-the wall coffee shops and autumn leaves, and everything from a perfectly manicured fine dining experience right down to a bowl of mac and cheese. I want people to simply be inspired by life and unafraid to reach for the experience they think is out of reach. In the words of the late Anthony Bourdain, who is one of my big inspirations, I want to inspire people to “eat the damn fish.”

My suggestion to newcomers in the field (no matter how cheesy this may sound) is to have fun with it! Seriously, don’t worry about trying to monetize it or make it sustainable. Don’t even worry about trying to be good! Just treat it like play - and have fun shooting for you first, taking pictures of what you enjoy. Keep going in that direction and the rest will come with time! That said, photography is s a tough field to be immensely profitable in. Photography is still essentially my side gig; I work in landscaping full time. Really though, what is money? We’re all just trading around red and green numbers at the end of the day. If photography is your passion, chase it, and don’t make money the priority. With good practice and a true dedication to the craft, money will come.

As for high points in my career, my first few real photo gigs in which a client sought me out (as opposed to me putting in the legwork to find a client) were something really special, and to me just validated that my work was really becoming something to take pride in. Especially as someone who doesn’t specialize in any specific type of photography, it can be difficult to get clients when you aren’t offering something specific, so knowing that I was being sought out purely for my creative perspective was a pretty amazing feeling.

I’d say that the moment I realized that I didn’t need to define my work by any specific genre or style of photography was the defining moment in my career, so far. That understanding really opened up the creative doors for me, even if it slowed down my “photography business.” At the end of the day that’s not why I’m into photography, and instead, giving myself the room to create what I want has led to my photography career feeling much more like a professional hobby, which is fantastic.

If I could start out from scratch, I would definitely become who I am–a guy with no particular specializations in photography–a lot earlier than I did the first time around. In the early days I was so focused on trying to be one “type” of photographer, whether that was taking pictures of cabins or landscapes or cars or whatever.  Looking back now, those are all just callings to different areas of interest for me, and for a long time I was really limiting myself to try to just pick one and stick with it. It took me pretty long to realize that I don’t need to abide by a specific specialization in photography. So, if I had another go at it, I’d definitely want to attain that realization much earlier.

The importance of individuality is the biggest lesson I’ve learned through creating my art. Copying everything everyone else does on social media will definitely get you the likes - but it costs you the soul of your work. When you can step outside of the social media framework and expectations, and not care at all if your work has 10 likes or 10,000, that’s when you get the freedom to create and share what you want.

It’s great to be in a position where you can work for yourself, even if it’s just for a few times a year like it is for me. I’ve spent my whole life working for other people.  Each way of working has its own pros and cons. Working for yourself really gives you that total control and total freedom to run things the way you’d like to, but at the same time, you bear full responsibility for everything, which can be tiring. That’s why I like being my own boss, but only part-time.

If I couldn’t be pursuing photography, I’d be cooking! I’d say I’m equally passionate about cooking as I am about photography, even sometimes more passionate about it. (That’s why my photography has evolved to show a bit of what I like to cook!). One of my favorite things is cooking on an open fire—there is something deeply intimate about it, and it’s a true craft! I’m very inspired by Francis Mallmann, and definitely recommend that anyone interested in cooking and living to the fullest should research Francis Mallmann. A lot of different aspects of life, society, culture, etc. all seem to come to head with a plate of food, and being able to cook well and appreciate food with friends and family is something really special to me.

My biggest pet peeve about the photography industry is the people who are doing it “for the gram.” There’s a lot of them out there in all sectors of social media, not just photographers. In the photography area, though, there are so many people who won’t stop to smell the flowers or appreciate a scene, because they’re too busy trying to crush out a hike to get to a popular photo spot just to snag a photo and then turn around to head to the next spot. Or they’ll ignore countless amazing people or local places like small businesses and restaurants because those things don’t fit in their aesthetic. So generally, I wish the whole scene was just more authentic and transparent. Does social media need to resemble real life? Definitely not! I like that it’s a catalog of our best moments. But do we need to manufacture our best moments or can we instead truly be present, patient, and just simply share our real best moments?

When I first started out, photography was simply the pursuit of something that was interesting to me at the time. It was something I felt drawn to when I first encountered it, and so I followed the path. Even with the ups and downs, photography has allowed me to travel to some incredible places, but also really led me down a path that’s had so many benefits in terms of being an authentic and kind human being with gratitude for everything around me, and that’s all I could ask for.

I’ve touched on this a little bit already, but I truly hope my work inspires people to chase life to the fullest, whether they are aspiring photographers or not. Simply saying yes to new opportunities and being willing to make the moment worthwhile is the answer to life itself, never mind just photography. It started with travel for me, but it can start anywhere. I love to see people try new things and pursue their interests and passions to the fullest in the same way that I try to do - always be open to what life has to offer!

Here in Maine, nothing brings hunters and hippies together more than flannel. It is always the right move.

A STORIED HOME: Small Town Junk

From FOLK’s Slow Living 2020 Issue

Rural Ohio resident Jessi Green (@small.town.junk) has established herself as a curator of storied antiques and vintage pieces. She works with clients and customers to create homes that have a story to tell.

THE LOVE FOR OLD GOODS RUNS DEEP IN ME. As far back as I can remember, I found the beauty in antiques: I would buy trinkets and vintage beaded purses as a little girl. I practically grew up at the flea market, as my parents sold new and antique military goods, and I was rolling around rummage sales in the stroller.

At Small Town Junk my husband, Brad, and I are purveyors of antiques, avid collectors of bits and pieces of history that make homes warm and give individuals an ideal sanctuary they can retreat to.

Brad and I started our business seven years ago after visiting a local antique shop and discovering our addiction to hunting for old goods. I previously worked as a florist and my husband worked in landscaping, so we’ve always had an eye for design, and we jumped into the antique world headfirst. Our company means so much to my husband and me. It’s a dream come true to say I love my work.

We like to think of ourselves as personal assistants in finding gorgeous pieces to fill your home with life and stories. “Putting History Back Into Homes” is our motto. Everyone’s looking for statement pieces, but most don’t think to turn to antiques. Yet the quality and craftsmanship of old-fashioned goods is unparalleled.

Being around vintage goods has made me aware of the beauty in old things, the way wear shows up almost like artwork. A farmer’s shovel has an imprint of his hardworking hands. These little details intrigue me. They are bits and pieces of our history, our story, and our legacy.

New things can be beautiful, but the story that comes with an antique has an immeasurable value. Knowing that someone used this, worked with it, or kept it because it had sentimental value brings joy. Everything had a purpose back then: They didn’t keep old blue mason jars just for decoration, but to use them! The beauty shows up in the details, with a rich history you just can’t find in brand-new products. I like to say that antique buying is not a fad but a lifestyle.

That’s certainly been true for us: Not only do we scout vintage treasures for our customers, but we fill our own home with our finds. I love knowing that our home is over eighty percent antique and vintage. I prefer not to stick to one specific style or era of antiques, but instead buy what speaks to my soul. All the “chaos” blends into a well-curated and storied home.

Our home brimming with vintage gems fits in perfectly in our hometown of Hillsboro, Ohio, a simple town of small businesses, farmers, and historic charm. Our farm is around one hundred years old and is a work in progress we enjoy building together. Right now we’re working on a storefront venue and workspace for our business, a project we hope to finish within the year. We’re carving out the space in a barn on our property. We love the quiet life on our little piece of land and watching it flourish into our sanctuary.

Our passion for antiques is a proud part of our family culture. Brad and I have five children and our family is everything to us. We love raising our children to appreciate the beauty in antiques, and value history, style, and authentic goods.

Antiques are so much more than just sturdy, well-made products. To own vintage goods just for their value is to underestimate them, when so much of what makes them wonderful is the story behind them. That’s why I’m passionate about antiques: I feel as if I’m restoring and showcasing our nation’s history in my living room or bedroom—giving them life and passing them on to my children as family heirlooms.

The technical definition of antique means a collectible object, such as a piece of furniture or work of art, that has high value because of its considerable age. But I would say an antique can be anything aged that you find valuable in your soul. My great-grandmother’s handwritten recipes are framed and are prized antiques to me.

I’ve learned to find value even in the rustiest, dirtiest little objects. It’s a revelation to see how beautiful they look when they’re cleaned up, and transformed as if by magic into stunning home decor or art. One classic example is old bee skeps: We love turning them into floating shelves and risers. They have so much character and look amazing hanging on the wall.

My years in this business have taught me that even as trends fade, some hold on strong. For instance, ironstone collections have been around for years and will never be out of style. I’m always on the hunt for small antiquities that ignite curiosity. I love searching for ironstone pieces and Shakespeare leather-bound books to add to my collections, as well as woven rugs to use in my home and antique frames to hold our family’s photos. For Small Town Junk I search for unique books, vases and mirrors. My customers always appreciate architectural salvage and pieces that they can use in their own homes.

People told me growing up that I was an old soul, but I never understood them until now. My love for old things runs deep in my family; my mom, dad and grandmother taught me how to find the beauty in antiques. Their houses were full of vintage gems and I admired the history of each piece and all my family heirlooms. We’re a family of collectors, from hunting books to hand-stitched quilts, so I grew up learning the ins and outs of antiques.

I love turning my passion into my livelihood, sharing something I enjoy so much with my husband and children, and helping my customers fill their homes with beauty, history, and deep meaning.

FAVORITE PLACES TO SHOP

My ultimate Favorite place to shop is The Springfield Extravaganza Spring and Fall, I can find a wide range of smalls and good antique furniture. I love shopping the Country Living Fair and City Farmhouse Popup, I always find those unique smalls and one of a kind gems there. Summer Market, Over The Moon Vintage Show, and Charm at the Farm are just a couple others we love to shop. Brad and I also love going to auctions and shopping locally.

FAVORITES TO FOLLOW

@86andeverettedesignco, @objekts1, @thetatteredmagnolia, @themaplehouseco, @arstidenbasta, @roseandgracemarket

RURAL RECORD: Matthew Walton

RURAL RECORD

from FOLK Slow Living 2020

Matthew Walton has set out to document the rural landscapes of the midsouth with @theruralrecord. His images tell timely stories of the past and future of America’s heartland.

I GREW UP IN POCAHONTAS, ARKANSAS, a town of about 7,000. It sits on the Black River in the Northeast region of the state. It’s an interesting location, as it shows an immediate transition from flat, farm land to the birth of the Ozark foothills. Twelve years ago, I moved to Jonesboro, AR, the most populated town in the region (just under 70,000), and work with an advertising production company. Many of the communities that surround both of these places have populations around a few hundred, if that. Needless to say, I’ve lived my life in a rural environment.

The Rural Record project started by accident, organically, or whatever you want to call it. I’ve worked with many agricultural companies throughout the years and, through that experience, I’ve visited many farms that dot the rural landscape throughout the state, especially in the delta. Early in 2019,

I started to go through hard drives of personal images and began to see a pattern. Because of the experiences I’ve had, I was naturally drawn to the personality of these smaller towns. Looking to focus my personal photography a bit more, I decided to start being more purposeful in documenting these rural communities that surround me, sharing a realistic, yet maybe romanticized, view of these places.

There are certain traits to every town that are unique, and some that share the same fabric of life. Some buildings I photograph are landmarks while others are overlooked structures that blend into the everyday lives of the people who live and work around them. All of these have a story, whether apparent or even imagined. I’m drawn to the structures and scenes that seem to sit, stuck between eras. Many of them have had their heyday, but now stand empty or with their last inhabitants. Even so, they are still part of the local landscape and deserve to be recorded in this state of existence. And that’s the essence of The Rural Record and rural life in general. 50 years ago, almost half of the population was involved in agriculture in some form or fashion. Today only 2% of the population works in this field. That is evident in these small towns.

Towns that used to be epicenters of life in the otherwise middle of nowhere are now almost empty and being overtaken by the elements that surround them. It’s a life that is quickly being forgotten, but still hanging on. It’s a generational thing. Family farms that have a rich history are still functioning, using the latest technology while still residing in towns (and places between towns) that are barely inhabited. That’s one of the special attributes of the rural landscape. You can be somewhere and nowhere at the same time. Wide, open landscapes roll out in front of you with no one in sight for miles.

The Rural Way of Life—though what we see out our back doors is different, I would assume people in rural and urban environments share much in common. We have our shared technology, educational resources, and individual goals that we’re trying to obtain. In this age, we’re connected like no other time in history. That being said, the environment does play a large part in differentiating our lives.

Those that work in the fields or with cattle and other livestock may be a bit more in-tune with the land around them. The weather is something that makes or breaks an entire crop and potentially an entire livelihood. Faith is also a big part of life around here. When you realize you can’t control nature, but see the brilliance of the way life grows from seed to harvest and calf to maturity, you have a good sense that it’s not all up to chance.

People in these parts are often hilariously depicted as a bit slow, especially in the way they talk. And while, there are some folks who do tend to draw out their conversations,

I know many whose minds are racing a hundred miles an hour and are some of the most brilliant people I’ve ever encountered. Of course, there are also people who will spit out a conversation faster than a podcast on double speed.

So, just like everywhere else in the world, there’s a mixture of personalities and quirks that make people special. We may not have access to every form of art and entertainment, business, restaurant experience, etc., but we have our own special blend of hospitality and hard work.

The Rural Record is made for local people to see their towns and everyday life in a special light. When I post certain images, I get comments from people loving that their grandfather’s store or an old, local hangout was featured. It’s also made for people who don’t get to see this part of the world. One of the best things about online platforms like Instagram, is that it’s a global service. I can share what’s unique in my area so that others can enjoy it. It’s a dichotomy. For some, it’s a record of memories, while for others, it’s a glimpse into a different way of life.

No matter where you live, it’s important to document the world around you. That’s precisely what history is. I may not photograph everything or even every town, but what I do has a chance to live on for years to come. Several spots that I’ve shared already have either been torn down, burned, or have otherwise faded into history. But they still live through that split second my shutter moved. This is a celebration of a time-that-was and still is, beauty stuck between eras.

This is the Rural Record.

GONE COUNTRY: Urban Exodus

GONE COUNTRY

Alissa Hessler, the creator of Urban Exodus, a website featuring ex-urbanites who left the city and moved to rural areas, as well as current city dwellers who have urban farms and homesteads within cities, takes us inside her rural Camden, Maine garden.

MY HARBINGER OF SPRING IS THE BLOODY GUTS OF RHUBARB POKING THROUGH THE DIRT. Gruesome when it breaks the surface, it quickly blossoms into beautiful ruby stalks. In Maine, we have few perennials, and rhubarb is the first to make its return to the garden. I love celebrating spring with a batch
of rhubarb syrup and combining the sieved remains with some strawberries to make homemade fruit leather.

I’ve lived in a historic farmhouse in the mountains of Midcoast Maine since 2012 when I moved from Seattle with my husband (then boyfriend). Living in a rural area was familiar, but it took a few years to make the transition to the different rhythms of country life, and it took me growing my own food to awaken the cook in me.

I grew up in northern California near the redwood forests, one of five siblings, with a menagerie of misfit animals. I had a pretty idyllic childhood, and while there was tons of music in our house, there was not much good food! My mother, bless her, tried her best in the kitchen. But, she was born during ration times in England after WWII. Food was limited, and she was raised on canned food and the obscure entrails of animals cooked into pies.

Once I was old enough to safely use the stove I started to cook for my two younger sisters...just the basics. When I left home, I survived on Trader Joe’s pre-made meals and salad. I ate to survive;I took no pleasure in the process or procurement of ingredients. Looking back, I can’t believe I lived for so long without really thinking about what I was eating!

Meeting my husband and moving to Maine altered my relationship with food and cooking. My husband grew up in Maine, and his mother is an incredible cook. (I consider it a great accomplishment if she compliments one of my meals!) Her cookbook collection spans six large bookshelves; cooking is her therapy, and she’s joyful when she feeds people. My husband’s step-dad was a “Back-to-the-Lander” who moved to Maine from New Jersey in the late 60s. He keeps an enormous kitchen garden in growing season, and from this, they construct most of their meals.

When we moved to our farmhouse, there were a bunch of stone-lined garden beds, all horribly overgrown. Inspired by my in-laws, I made it my mission to grow food during my first year in Maine. It took the better part of a month to dig them out and restore the soil. I had no clue what I was doing, but I bought some seedlings, added some compost, weeded, and watered diligently.

That first year’s bounty was beyond my wildest dreams. I couldn’t let any of it go to waste—they were my babies—everything had to go to good use. I scoured the web and found recipes for making sauces and meals from scratch using fresh produce.

So at 30, I first tasted a homemade pasta sauce made entirely from things I’d grown...and I nearly fell over. It tasted like heaven. It tasted how I wanted everything to taste. Right then, my passion was born, and its been growing ever since that first delicious spoonful of sauce!

I’ve taught myself to cook. Cooking—like jazz music—requires improvisation and intuition. Baking— like classical music—requires precision and following what is written. I love that cooking rewards experimentation. I find it boring to follow recipes. I typically look at what ingredients I have available, research some recipes online, and choose a few to roughly follow along with.

Even though I discovered cooking later than some, and my cooking passion was fueled merely by necessity to use what I had grown, it’s truly become an everyday joy. I feel so lucky that I get to grow and cook food for my family. I just wish I had done this in the city where I even had a green space in my apartment complex. I just didn’t understand that growing food would be a life-changing event— how simple cooking can be—and how much cooking your own food impacts your life.

I think we are living in a time where convenience outweighs quality for many, and this isn’t good. I know that anything of quality is better, lastingand more fulfilling. And I think while we are in an uncertain time in society, it’s even more important for people to connect with their environment and learn basic self- sufficiency skills. We are just a fewgenerations removed from a time when nearly everyone played a major role in their own survival—growing their own food, sourcing their own water, making their own clothes, etc.

I’d like to become savvier with these “old-fashioned” skills because they are so useful.

I’m drawn to simple, healthy recipes that pack a flavor punch, and I love simple ingredient combinations that work perfectly...like torn, fresh basil sautéed with green beans, salt/pepper, and olive oil.

So, we embrace a slow lifestyle...we make a lot of household things, we grow our own food, we can, and store food to get us through the bleak winter months, we try to fix things before throwing them out, and—most of all—we welcome whatever the harvest brings us... . Every year some things thrive while others wither. A new pest arrives, there’s a drought or a downpour. Living slow and living close to the land...it always leaves you guessing, learning and growing.

— UrbanExodus.com

THE LITTLE THINGS:

Maine is one of just two states where the median age of the farmer is decreasing. Maine celebrates farmers and their fresh produce with many farm-to-table restaurants. I really appreciate the ingenuity of chefs like Sam Richman of “Sammy’s Deluxe” and my dear friend Annemarie Ahearn who started “Salt Water Farm Cooking School” they’re great at using local ingredients to make delicious food year-round!

WELL ROOTED: Wyse Guide

WELL ROOTED: Wyse Guide

SLOW LIVING THROUGH FOUR  GENERATIONS OF FARMING

from FOLK Autumn 2020

Kaleb Wyse hosts the lifestyle blog and YouTube channel “The Wyse Guide” about his life on Knollgate Farm, where he farms, bakes, cooks, gardens and decorates in Iowa and hopefully inspires others to do the same.

FARMING HAS BEEN A PART OF MY LIFE FROM THE VERY BEGINNING. I grew up on a working farm in southeast Iowa and was able to be outside most days. Mom always had a large vegetable garden and flower gardens and would preserve all throughout the summer. I never thought of these skills as uncommon, or realized that other kids weren’t learning how to garden and put up preserves, but I learned how to do them just by watching and helping. 

For a while, I didn’t think I’d become a farmer too. When I graduated with degrees in business and accounting, however, I realized something wasn’t right. I hated sitting at a desk. That wasn’t the life I found fulfilling. 

At that point I had moved into my grandparents’ farmstead, and after work, I would slowly rip out all the gardens and start them over. In the evening, I would preserve from my garden. I started doing what I inherently knew to do when you have a farmstead. 

A friend and I started Wyse Guide as a way for me to help others learn what I knew from my family. Not everyone is so lucky to grow up and learn how to garden or preserve. Wyse Guide allows me to give others a chance to learn.

As uncharacteristic as it sounds, I grew up a quarter-mile from where I currently live. My years in college made me realize that I am someone who needs to feel a sense of home and deep roots, in a place with meaning. My family has been rooted on these farms for four generations and I can’t knock that feeling. Every time I travel, explore, or leave, the moment I arrive back in Iowa, I know I am home.

Of course, living here does have its setbacks. In a rural area, nothing is just a walk away. Groceries, shops, and conveniences all take a drive to reach. Rural living forces me to be content with not having everything at my fingertips. This is why gardening and preserving have become so important, and really are a way of life. During the summer months, all the vegetables I need are in my backyard. During the winter, I am able to still enjoy the garden with whatever I preserved.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about farming, it’s that Mother Nature always wins. I have a large yard and gardens full of vegetables. Whenever I think I am mastering one of them, a crop will fail, an insect will take over, or a drought will come. At first I want to get angry, but as the years go on, I realize nothing I do will win over nature. She was here first and will be here last.

Autumn, with its harvest and promise of abundance, is like no other time of year in a rural area. I love hearing the rustling of corn in the fields ready to be harvested. During the fall, the corn dries in the fields until it is time to pick. The breezes blow the leaves and create the sound of my autumn. As they are picked, I love the distinct aroma of corn. There is no way to explain it other than to experience it.

When it comes to autumn decorating, a pumpkin makes all the difference. Even one small pumpkin instantly transforms a room into a cozy autumn picture. I pile, stack, and fill every bowl with all the pumpkins and squash I can grow. There is nothing better than coming home to pumpkins placed by the doors. 

I also make an effort to enjoy this time of year by planning a trip to a local orchard or visiting a pumpkin patch. Going and doing is a fulfilling way to feel autumn. 

It’s funny, every year when pumpkin spice lattes become available, I always think I have to get one. I do and then I’m done. It’s ok, but I’d much rather have a good cup of coffee on my porch at home on a crisp autumn morning. I think I finally realized you cannot commercialize autumn; you need to experience it. And isn’t that exactly what makes it so great?

— wyseguide.com

— @wyseguide

Kayla Haupt + Homesteading in Iowa

Kayla Haupt

Originally from WHERE WOMEN COOK — SLOW LIVING

Homesteader, a first-generation farmer, and single stay-at-home mother, Kayla Haupt, lives in rural Iowa on a small farm that sits among one of the largest Amish settlements west of the Mississippi River. This master gardener spends her days close to the land, working to instill the idea of sustainability, creativity, and seasonal living in others through her blog and the business, Under a Tin Roof, she launched with her mother, Jill, in 2015. 

Growing up it was just my parents and me, so I spent a lot of time imagining elaborate storylines for my dolls and pretending I lived in the woods behind my house. That led me to writing, and I planned to pursue a career in film directing and screenwriting. That changed when I found out that I was going to have my son! He was a pleasant surprise, and he started a domino effect leading us to what we now do for a living. 

I never knew much about food, nor did I care much about it. It was an unhealthy relationship…sometimes I’d skip, sometimes I’d gorge, and I ate fast food and processed groceries. That all changed when I got pregnant and started cooking. I knew what I ate would affect my son, and I did not want him addicted to junk food! But, I still didn’t really understand real, whole food.

I began to experiment and learn. I fell in love with growing vegetables and collecting eggs from our backyard chickens. My family realized that whole food with minimal processing was important. Fresh tasted better and was healthier for us—this made an enormous impact on our lives.

It was a huge accomplishment to convert our kitchen from processed foods to whole food and to eat by the seasons. We now eat meat that is butchered at that time of year and cook with the vegetables and fruits that are growing. In the cold months, we eat the food that I put by in the summer.  

In December 2017 we moved to our small three and a half acre farm. We were living in a nearby town for a few years before that—after a bigger move from Houston in 2015 when I was pregnant.

We were feeling our way into a new lifestyle, I was blogging, and we had started our business making and selling useful, handmade goods, learning as we went. Moving to a farm was not our plan, but when the property went up for sale, we were drawn to it. With more than 800 mature aronia berry bushes, a large garage we envisioned could be a small store to sell our creations, and a gorgeous 20th-century foursquare farmhouse...we made the leap! 

It’s been a whirlwind working to grow produce and cut flowers and expand our business to include farming. My mom is a talented illustrator, and I am a writer—so the combination of our skills works well, and we are dedicated to living an inspiring lifestyle on our homestead and through our business…so encouraged by the opportunity of more farming!

We now grow and sell vegetables, fruits, herbs, and flowers, and our shop hosts a small country store where we sell various useful, handmade goods that we design and make ourselves like sustainable apparel, household items, hand poured beeswax candles and embroidery kits. We offer pasture-raised eggs from our hens and fresh baked goods that I make on special occasions.

We also participate in a seasonal Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program where customers can purchase a share of our farm among others and receive fresh produce, flowers, and meats to enjoy during the summer and autumn seasons. 

It's the history behind slow living that draws me to it; my ancestors lived this way not too long ago. Somehow that art was lost in more recent years with advanced farming technology. But, I no longer want to buy useless products or ones that make us unhealthy. I love the idea of creating my own economy by growing and raising food! My most profound goal in this entire lifestyle change is to share these tips with my son, Tad, so he can pass them on to his children.

There has to be a balance—I cannot be a total purist. Sometimes I eat a box of crackers and some days I buy meat from the grocery store. So, while I strive to do it all; shear the sheep, spin the wool, and knit the sweater, that's not possible. We do the best we can, and we're changed people because of the small yet substantial steps we've taken in just a few years. We want to encourage others to do the same.

Our website offers info on homesteading topics like keeping chickens, growing and eating your own food, living a waste-free lifestyle, herbal healing, and natural cleaning. We want our readers and customers to feel as if they can make a difference in their own lives with wholesome, simple, seasonal living.

My cooking style is old-fashioned—rustic and simple. I’m inspired by recipes of the 18th and 19th centuries—I love reading them and putting my spin on their elements. 

If we have friends over for supper, I like to make a chicken noodle soup, a black bean and sweet potato chili, or a beef stew—with fresh bread. My family’s favorite meal is pasture-raised chicken roasted in a cast iron skillet and basted with butter and rosemary. I add some chopped potatoes and onions, and we’re set!! Simple and good is the way to go for us.

Eating seasonally has taught me about where food comes from and how to live in harmony with the land to find fulfillment. Every year I feel the same way that I did the first time I ever grew my own food. When you bring that initial harvest into the house, clean and chop it, you feel this incredible sense of accomplishment and pride, humility and reward. I want as many people as possible to know that feeling, and I will continue to farm, work, write and cook to share it.

— underatinroof.com | — wherewomencreate.com

Life Begins Outside Your Comfort Zone — Mike Kelley

Below is a preview of my conversation with Boston based photographer Mike Kelley.

READ THE FULL CONVERSATION IN FOLK’S SUMMER ISSUE | ORDER HERE

Mike Kelley is a Maine native, Boston resident, and wanderlust at heart that stole our hearts with his calm landscapes, cloudy skies, and images of coastal New England culture.

Why do you explore? I explore for one simple reason, fear of missing out. There are so many places in this world, without exploring and putting myself out there I am scared that I will miss out on truly incredible experiences. 

Why take risks in life? Life begins outside your comfort zone.

 Where are you from? Manchester, Maine.

When you were growing up what or who did you want to be? Growing up...well as a kid...I wanted more than anything to be a paleontologist. I was very much obsessed with dinosaurs and fossils so it was my dream to search for them as a career. Coincidentally I also loved managing money...this is what lead me to the finance field.

Give us a story: 17,000 ft. That’s how high I was in the Bolivian Andes when I blacked out. No memory of the last 1,300 ft of hiking. If you know anything about me, I sometimes make spontaneous, questionable decisions, this was one of those…I arrived in La Paz Bolivia the night before, a city that sits at 11,000ft above sea level. Most people have a hard time breathing the first couple days in the city and many get sick from the lack of oxygen. For some reason, I was fine. I noticed some pressure in my lungs, but nothing I wasn’t already used to. I arrived to my hostel at 10pm on a Monday night, knowing full well that I had Tuesday free (I had planned to do the death road on Wednesday) I called up a local travel agency that was still open and booked a hike for the following morning. 7am I met up with my guide, Choco who didn’t speak a lick of English and we headed into the mountains. A two hour drive and we arrived at the mountain base. A hike with just over 4,000 ft of elevation gain. I can do this easy peasy I thought. We headed up. Within an hour my head ache was becoming unbearable, my vision began to blur, my stomach felt like it was being stabbed constantly by a knife. I had NEVER in my life felt so unbelievably uncomfortable. Symptoms I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. As stubborn as I was, I pushed forward, higher and higher. The symptoms got worse. Little did I know I was entering the early stages of a very serious condition, HAPE, High Altitude Pulmonary Edema. I pushed onward, until I couldn’t anymore. Choco braced me as I lay on the rocks and forced our trip back down the mountain. 17,113ft…I made it just 100 ft. from the summit he later told me in his broken English. This day changed my life, I realized the overwhelming power of nature, something I will never, ever doubt again. So let it be known, take risks in life, but make sure they are calculated or else you may never have the opportunity again.

READ THE FULL CONVERSATION IN FOLK’S SUMMER ISSUE | ORDER HERE