When I was a kid in the mid-eighties, karate was the thing. I don’t remember if it was because of Karate Kid but. collectively, my friends and I were all karate-obsessed and, at seven years old, I wanted to do karate more than anything. When my elementary school brought in a local dojo for a demonstration, I was ecstatic.
I sat in the front row of the gym and watched kids not much older than myself break boards, do jumping spinning shit, and pretty much kick ass. I became completely overwhelmed, and I cried.
I didn’t understand my reaction at the time. I felt two distinct emotions—awe and sadness. Awe because it was truly, literally awesome, and sadness because I knew I’d never be able to do any of it. I had no future in karate. I knew my limits even then, and I knew this was beyond them.
There are artists I know and love and when I see their work I feel that same dual emotion. I cry less now, but I do feel it all. You know the face a drummer makes when they hear something particularly nasty?
I make that face a lot. It means, I see you and I see that I cannot see you fully. You are doing something beyond me, and that makes me both inspired and ashamed. I’ve played drums for 30 years and I have no idea what JD Beck is doing (seemingly effortlessly?) in that video.
I want to highlight a few people who have me making that face.
I’m not sure which link best showcases Mike and his work. I could have linked his typography or work as Ghostly’s chief designer. He wears so many hats and each is a really, really nice hat.
Hanif’s writing is a gift. I’ve been a fan since hearing his poetry years ago. His writing blends criticism with memoir and is achingly beautiful and precise. In his latest book, he weaves basketball and his city and his life together in a way where even if you are ambivalent to the sport, you end up a fan of all of it: basketball, Columbus, and Abdurraqibs.
I met Brooke a few years ago in NYC for a reason I cannot recall. I think we may have already collaborated on a piece or were attempting to collaborate on something and while I was a fan of her work, I instantly became a fan of her. Her work is thoughtful and funny. She is also thoughtful and funny. There’s an absurd sincerity to her intricately crafted photographs. Her new book is coming out from Thames and Hudson next year, aptly titled Take a Picture It Will Last Longer. The crowd funded campaign launched this week.
I met Aspen while teaching at Haystack two summers ago. Her work in wood is remarkable and matched only by her positive attitude and obvious love of teaching. Beyond being a total badass, she also founded the Chairmakers Toolbox. A program designed to put tools from retired woodworkers into the hands of historically excluded woodworkers. Just a constant high five.
Lastly, I had the absolute privilege to be included in a new three-part series on PBS called Confluence. It examines the link between science, art, and creativity. My feature is short—about 5 minutes of me in the studio talking with Max Shtein (my frequent collaborator / material scientist / elite cyclist pal). Our segment is sandwiched in episode two between Nick FUCKING Cave and Iris Van FUCKING Herpen. The series launched on July 12 and my episode drops on the 19th. It will all be streaming on the PBS site soon.
Who are your people I need to know about? Drop a comment below.
xo
m
Someone you should know is fellow michigander Armin Mersmann, an amazing artist. He and his wife, a fellow artist,
have a podcast Art Ladders.
Your work is wonderful.
Wow, Matt! Your energy pulses through all you share with us, your privileged audience!!!
Thanks -- looking forward to the next infusion of The Fold.
Michael Rodemer