The inherent challenge posed to every Maker trying to fit-in is finding a way to stand out. From wearing their cultural and political hearts on their sleeves to throwing wicked whisky curveballs, here are 12 Makers who stood out to us at Agenda, Capsule and Liberty!
To Lucinda’s paternal grandmother, Mary, there was only one way to cook meatballs: drop them, uncooked, into a bubbling pot of tomato sauce, until the sauce and all its contents could marry the meat, making it one. Lucinda’s grandmother’s sister-in-law, Aunt Josephine, saw it differently. The real way to cook meatballs was to brown them first, then pour the sauce on top. Any other way was absurd.
There is an in-between space that every maker knows. The space between falling and flying. To fall is to give yourself up to someone else’s vision. To fly? Doing whatever it takes to see your vision come to life. Any vision worth having is formed by fire, grit and determination. Unsurprisingly this is the story of Sean Yoro (a.k.a Hula).
Growth should never be measured by the length of the branch; but by the depths of the root. This is why urban farmers Ryan Anderson and Hannah Clark created ACRE, a sustainable urban farm in the heart of Detroit to help Detroiters eat fresh and healthy produce made in their own backyard. With this comes the prospect and potential for many people to get back in touch with the earth in which we all live.
If luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity, Root & Bone's Executive Chef, Jeff McInnis, hit the jackpot. Growing up poor in Niceville, FL, Jeff's family lived hand to mouth. Out of necessity, he gained the hard earned skills of living by learning to grow, catch and kill his own food. But this self-sufficiency would serve as the foundation for everything to come.
Like many kids who found themselves bored in class, Jonathan Schkolnick would turn to the the back of his notebook, take out is pencil and draw the "S" symbol. He'd draw three identical lines in a row, draw three more lines beneath the top row then connect them until he got the first letter of his last name, "S." Then he'd do it again. And again.
Two months ago the world lost Muhammad Ali, one of our greatest cultural icons and fiercest fighters. Inside the ring Ali's exploits won him numerous belts and titles, but it was the things he did after the bell that made him the People's Champ. Whether it was making Ernie Terrell acknowledge Ali by the name he had chosen for himself or refusing to fight in the Vietnam War, Muhammad Ali taught those of us who admired him, no matter the opponent, integrity, dignity and self-respect are worth fighting for.
When Jessica was invited to a friend's potluck birthday dinner three years ago, she only knew how to make two things—eggs and Rice Krispy treats. Since eggs were out of the question, and since the friend, who hosted the potluck dinner, was a surfer, Jessica’s friend, Amanda, suggested she make a rice Krispy treat into the shape of a surfboard.
Some of us reach a point in our lives where we realize that the things we want reside elsewhere. When this happens, we do one of two things: create whatever it is that would make us want to stay where we are; or pack our bags and go. After dedicating the last ten years of his life and career to New York, fashion designer Charles Harbison (who’s originally from Lincolnton, North Carolina) is moving to LA—for love, a better life and more fabric.
When I first met Kyle Mosholder, the founder of D'emploi, I'd been reading Alan Weisman's The World Without Us. In reflecting on Weisman’s book and his exploration of how the things we make impact the world, I couldn’t help but think about Kyle’s consideration of his own impact with his line of canvas goods.
While reading Peter Korn's book, Why We Make Things and Why It Matters, I was given the recommendation by Chris Logsdon of The GodSpeed Co. to look into the work of Thomas Callahan, the founder of Horse Brand Co., a company specializing in hand built bicycles, along with a variety of other outdoor objects.
One of my favorite stories, which I tell often, is the one Toni Morrison tells of her father, George Wofford, who was a ship welder. Returning home one day from work, Wofford told a young Morrison about this particular beam he welded. It had been his best one yet. He was so proud of his work, he discreetly inscribed his initials into the beam. "But daddy," Toni Morrison, "no one will see that." Her father's response: "I know it's there."
