Stay Local: The Craft Mafia, A Well-Organized Syndicate

by Danielle Murphy-Cannell and Dana Eness, staylocal.org

Local artists have faced many challenges after Katrina, but collective power and a technology-driven business have allowed some to reach new audiences. The New Orleans Craft Mafia (www.neworleanscraftmafia.com) is an artists’ collective fashioned after the model of Austin’s Craft Mafia, with an internet-based shop. It is one of many around the country, yet it has its own distinct legacy. The group formed in the summer of 2005, just before Hurricane Katrina, and has remained solid ever since. Membership in the NOCM currently includes seven businesses comprised of local artisans contributing nonpareil crafts with New Orleans flair.
Many of the artists knew each other pre-merge from vending at various markets around the city. Others joined after the storm. Membership is open to any professional artist in New Orleans who is willing to become an active associate of the NOCM. The current condition of New Orleans has played a large role in facilitating the collective, as now more than ever it is necessary to pool resources and aggregate business capacity with like-minded individuals. And, for the artists of NOCM, it has always been more about making art than making profit.
“There was a group-held belief that we’d all do better as a one or two person-run business if we pooled our resources together,” says Margaret Coble of art by mags!, “but a co-op of eight to ten micro-businesses doing similar but uniquely different things might have more of a chance. And so far, that theory has really worked.”
The online collective is at times the only thread to unite the group. The NOCM web shop was critical in keeping the collective together in the months after Katrina and provided an Internet retail presence for the artists to continue selling their art.
Much of the NOCM’s success can be attributed to their overt expressions of solidarity for their city and striking “do-it-yourself” designs that make local art accessible to the public. Products such as iconic water meters and crescent moon designs, houseware and accessories made from recycled materials, and vintage relics central to New Orleans culture have “struck a chord with the buying public” according to Coble.
“Shopping wasn’t exactly high on folks’ lists of things to do. Many of us, post-Katrina, came up with new designs and new products that were New Orleans-centric,” says Coble, “People were hungry for items to proclaim their pride and belief in the city and its possibility for rebuilding, revival.”
The Mafia does not operate with a storefront; however, they will have a holiday market at the Big Top Gallery at 1630 Clio Street, on Thursday, December 20th from 6-10 p.m. “Most of our members will be participating in multiple holiday markets around the city for the entire month of December,” says Coble. “Several of us will be at Festivus (www.festivusmarket.org) as well as the Recycle-for-the-Arts ‘Oddities Bazaar (December 8th) sponsored by the Green Project. Several of us will also be in many of the monthly neighborhood art markets like Bywater, Freret and Arts Council.” To get open-air market schedules for these and other markets citywide, go to http://www.staylocal.org/events/

Craft Mafia Line-up:

greenKangaroo.com: Rachelle Matherne makes handmade resin jewelry, magnets, altered clothing and more. She is the founder of the New Orleans Craft Mafia.

dismantled designs: Mallory Whitfield makes one-of-a-kind, handmade, reconstructed clothing and accessories, mostly from used or vintage clothing, fabrics, and trims. See more at: http://www.dismantleddesigns.com

Miss Malaprop: Also run by Mallory Whitfield, MissMalaprop.com is a blog whose tagline is “indie finds for your uncommon life,” which focuses on independent artists and businesses, both in New Orleans and beyond.
art by mags!: Margaret Coble makes spray-paint-stenciled art clocks out of recycled vinyl records with original designs, as well as silkscreen and stenciled t-shirts and other clothing. She also creates signs from recycled wood and other building scraps, picked up off the streets of post-Katrina New Orleans.

Unique Products: Heather MacFarlane and Mark Kirk make eclectic house wares, lighting, jewelry, t-shirts and accessories using recycled materials, including their famous fused Mardi Gras bead lights and blue tarp messenger bags.

Jeremy the Alien Designs: Jeannie Detweiler makes fine art paintings, stuffed toys, handmade faux-fur purses, funky throw pillows, and more.

Claverie Crafts: Kelly Claverie makes a wide variety of handmade crafts, from clothing to note cards to housewares and accessories and more.

A Space for Peace

Laura Pavicevic-Johnston, NPN Service Learner

Uncle Lionel’s token wristwatch glistens from the top of his hand as he keeps beat with the Blind Boys of Alabama at St. Augustines. Hours later, white, red, yellow and black flash in blurs of buoyant color as the dancers of the Kombuka African Drum and Dance Company spin to a mad drum beat.
Such was the scene at the Congo Square Rhythm Festival held on Sunday, September 30th. The festival brought together musicians, dance collectives, poets, chiefs, storytellers and people in a whirl of positive energy.

“When you hear music and perform it transforms you. It’s seemingly magical, but science proves it too. Something changes in you,” says Ausettua Amor Amenkum, a performer with the Kombuka Collective who has organized the event in the past. Get to know Ausettua and you will be moved by her grace, her knowledge, and the power behind what she says. Her hair, if let out, would likely root her to Mother Earth. She speaks with some gravel in her voice, “When you perform, that space has been made better.”
In the early days of New Orleans, Congo Square exemplified transition. Previously swamp lands on the fringe of town, it was a place where African slaves were allowed to come one day a week—largely unsupervised—to make music, dance and trade. Ausettua explains “Through all that exchange, Congo Square was significant to New Orleans as a space for peace.” This year, the festival kicked off at St. Augustine’s Cathedral with a special guest appearance from the Grammy award-winning Blind Boys of Alabama. It was my first time in the cathedral, and as I listened to the Priest, I was also elevated by the sight before me: white people in fancy suits, black people in fancy suits, black people in African prints, white people in African prints, punks covered with neck tattoos, babies and a few people so old they probably couldn’t see any of it. Then again, seeing wasn’t really necessary, because the energy and the sound were everywhere.

Amenkum sees significance in that cultural exchange as well. “Back in the 17-1800’s, when Louisiana was forming, you know it was so harsh. It was rough on the Europeans, rough on the Africans, and rough on the Native Americans. If it hadn’t been for all those people coming together they wouldn’t have survived,” she says. “There was institutionalized racism, yeah, but daily life dictated that you got along.”
During the sermon, as the Priest lamented the woes of New Orleans, I wondered if and how this vibrant energy could be used as a tool. “Music and art help you to tolerate those problems without being hopeless,” says Ausettua Amenkum. “It is the culture that shows you there’s still a way.” As she speaks, she radiates that same powerful energy that can be seen in her dance. “Through that unity, through respect for cultures and preservation, through dancing, and good food, we can pull New Orleans to a better place than it was before.”
Her conviction leaves me doubtless that the soul of our city can comfort the world. And if not, Sunday at the Square elevated me and left me with a deeper understanding of where this unique spirit comes from. Events like this can’t explain the ever growing problems of our city, but they can explain why we all stay, and show us how we can thrive.
Thanks to organizations like the Jazz and Heritage Foundation, the Congo Square Foundation and countless other preservation, dance and music associations throughout our city—not to mention independent artists—New Orleans culture is guarded, preserved, and most importantly, made accessible. Life here isn’t about watching a show- it’s about feeling that show and giving some energy, zest and dance back to that performer. I think we do it here better than anyone.
A fortune teller on Jackson Square once told me that people who drink the water in New Orleans can’t leave because Marie Laveau put something in the river. Perhaps, but I think it’s even deeper than that. There is a soul here that is older than all of us and makes itself known through music and dance; that positive expression has the power to change a space and those in it. That power makes this place better.

Sweet N’awlins Rain 

Maesto Teacher

by Priscilla Baca y Candelaria, 2003

Voice
Give them voice
Child’s song, poetry
Value their pearls.
Read, Regurgitate
Read, Question
Read, Write
Write, Voice
Rights ,
Voiced
Poetas have been Politically persecuted
By the powering factions
Because we dare have voice
Many martyrs leave their voice
Floating, dancing
From pen to paper
Script
Whispering caresses of love
Shouting orgasmic lust
Spouting political rhetoric
Of ones soul
Maestro teaching voice
Amendments
Silenced
Contoured
Masked
Ridiculed
Waves of poetas speak
Shout out
With ink and pen
We need no more Martyred sons
Ancient shores claim far to many
Warring acts of destruction
Always leaving fathers asking
For children to be brought home
Voice
Spoken
Voice
Heard
Speak.

Incommunicado
by Jean-Mark Sens

The age of absence never closes its parenthesis
voiced dreams in cables and fiber optics distill conversations
great cusps of satellite dishes like becoming Virgins gape at inviting callers.
All gone in smokes the signals from mountain to mountain
prayers of dissipating cloud-Gods reverting to the sky,
the telegraph with its helpless show of chopstick arms
and transitional voices passed into hair-thin, copper wires
from ear to ear re-amplifying at each end imperceptible delays of a split present,
and to no avail the posted signs of a red crossed cell phone around public buildings.
Talkers go to and fro, along pathways, lawns, crossroads
somnambulists of a great heart’s murmur in cars and airport terminals–
each so far and each so close to the ones they don’t talk to
absence never joins the long curved lines from pole to pole
sometimes two parallels bridge a touch of hands, light, vibrating
and yet each will repeat their parting
messages left on fridges
“will be back later,” “3 leeks, 2 carrots,” “Anna, forth and back, I love you—”
“Don’t forget the beer,” “Gina has been delayed,”
a magnetic puzzle of crossed words on vinylled metal,
halos of voices trapped in ice cube trays, breathed hue in the crisper.
After Katrina’s flood, curbs dotted with vertical white coffins
Frigidaire, G.E., Coolbreeze, all strapped, duck gagged, graffiti that yelled
crying out to the world passing by Keep Shut! Cash Inside,
Gamy Gumbo Yummm, N.O.P.D. Kills, Bad Breath ….

Be a New Orleanian: Dirty Coast Style

Mike Dingler, New Orleans Artist

You’ve seen their shirts around town.  You know their look.  And now, you can find their store.
Dirty Coast began as a concept shortly before Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans and it is one idea that has made it through the rain.  Starting small with a solid idea, Blake Haney and Patrick Brower decided that they should grow their business through good ole word of mouth.
The first concept that came out of Dirty Coast was their shirt “Metairie, it’s safe here.”  Made about seven months before the storm, the shirt reflects a time when it was still safe in Metairie.  The most recognizable designs and typically the best selling, are shirts that locals can immediately identify with, such as: “Be a New Orleanian.  Wherever you are,” “I am New Orleans,” and “Premium NoLa.”
Following the storm, which served as the catalyst for this business idea, New Orleanians sought a means of identifying themselves with their city and there has been no other t-shirt company that has aided in that than Dirty Coast.  Initially started with a web-based storefront, and aided by local stores carrying their shirts, Blake and Patrick decided to go to the person with a discriminating taste in t-shirt choices.
Though they had an ambitious ad campaign of over 250,000 stickers, Patrick feels that the designs they offer sell themselves.  “People want a way to identify themselves with our city and we do that,” he explains.
“I have to say the shirt that nails the city, in its identity and value is “New Orleans: So far behind, we’re ahead,” Blake adds.  “As the rest of the country begins to value their neighborhoods, localism, walk-ability and identity, they will realize that New Orleans has been on the right path all along.”
There have been some design issues with some of their shirts, most notably “Snitchin’ is Bitchin’” which was meant to be interpreted as promoting snitching (talking to the police about crimes), given the egregious murder rate.  On the back of the shirt, instead of the usual Dirty Coast logo, is a cell phone connoting that people should call in crimes  Due to the lack of understanding by critics, they pulled the shirt from the website, though it is still available at the store.
Recent designs for t-shirts involve the popular New Orleans personality Lil’ Doogie (“Brah, I’m Real?”) and “Iraq needs a Contra-flow.”  While they like to work from an idea out, they do very selectively accept design submissions.  An excellent design and a good concept will catch their eye and Blake says, “We like our shirts to say something or create a reaction.”  Depending on the complexity of the work, they’ll pay a design fee for the pieces they accept.  “A pretty image of a chicken on a shirt isn’t very Dirty Coast,” adds Blake.  Patrick follows with, “We wanted something that was more of a high end New Orleans t-shirt.”  These aren’t stiff shirts, though, as they see their target audience as “anyone who loves New Orleans and the Gulf South area and has a sense of humor.”
Adhering to the organic growth philosophy, their physical store location opened quietly at the beginning of September, with no address, no sign, no awning and no hours on the door.  “It worked out well for us,” Blake explains, “Folks has to know where we were or seek us out, which created a little buzz.  All non-intentional, but a nice happy accident.”
Since opening, Patrick says that the sales at the store have at least equaled their internet sales.  “I know I’ve shipped up to Canada and over to England, but also every state in the country.”  Patrick believes that many of the shirts have been shipped to our ex-patriot citizens living in other states due to the 504 area code that is attached to many of the orders.
It’s not all business, though.  Dirty Coast sponsors a number of fashion shows, which is undeniably a reason to have a party.
“I am of the philosophy that if there is an opportunity to throw a party it is your duty as a New Orleanian to do so.  If we don’t entertain ourselves and revel in being here amongst other New Orleanians, then we might as well live above sea level,”  Blake says.
“We give out a bunch of shirts to friends and get them to parade on stage to show the new designs.  It’s basically a reason to drink and be merry … it goes with the Dirty Coast attitude,” Patrick says of the fashion shows.
When asked about what the hope for Dirty Coast was, Blake answers that it’s to “keep building the audience so we gain more reach across the country.  The more folks wearing our stuff the more conversations about New Orleans can be struck up.”
Blake says that his hope for the city is much more expansive in that the hope would be to “bring to power leaders who understand the city’s best interest and speak for the citizens (versus business interests elsewhere).  Or, in the absence of that leadership, citizens keep doing things on their own and find new ways to collaborate and communicate on the hopes and ideas for each block, neighborhood, district and then city as a whole.
“I hope that new NOLA converts keep coming to the city and are accepted with open arms because we need new energy and new ideas…Let’s bring young talent to the city to start new businesses, do research and fix up the homes in our beautiful neighborhoods.  It’s not to say that locals can’t save the city, but there are much fewer of us than there were before the storm.  But, we have one huge asset going for us:  We are New Orleans!
“The people who matter usually love us or are intrigued enough to visit and then you know the rest of that story.”
With the desire to make enough money to live on and keep the business running smoothly, they are happy to expand looking into the feasibility of hats, bags and paper products.  “It’s great,” says Patrick, “sometimes we have people return weekly to get a new shirt.”
“We want to keep the ideas and quality high so we never have our audience question our brand value,” follows up Blake.
Dirty Coast is another success story in post-K New Orleans and further proof that New Orleans is rising.  When asked if they’d like to give a shout-out to anyone, the answer was unequivocally New Orleans: To all the “crooks and criminals” who “Keep the brand out there” and to the local politicians who think 15-25K is enough money to accept as a bribe to justify destroying their careers.  Keep it up!”
If you have a t-shirt idea you’d like to share or you want to find a shirt that represents your love for New Orleans, visit Patrick and Blake at Dirty Coast Press at 5704 Magazine Street, near the corner of Arabella and Magazine.  You can also find them online at www.dirtycoast.com .

Shana Dukes
Broadmoor Columnist

We New Orleanians are blessed to call so many artists our neighbors. And, when I say artists, I mean each and every single soul in the city with the drive to keep creating - not just those artists with art degrees. I do not mean just those artists who are lucky enough to go to work every day in the arts industries, or those artists whose art can pay the bills. What and who I mean are those artists who make art no matter what. I think that I especially mean the ones who do not have any reason to write, paint, photograph, draw, perform, etc., other than that they are consistently drawn back to their chosen media in a way that feels like going home at the end of each day. Those artists are as true and as touching as the human acts of improvisation and adaptation.
When I first moved to New Orleans in 2003, the art culture of the city charmed me. I fell in love with the visual art for sale on sidewalks. I fell in love with trash days. I still remember the first painting that I salvaged from a Royal Street sidewalk trash container: A celestial vision on canvas with an eclipsing moon and a distant, cloud covered starry image. The blue-green foundation paint had faded in places, and the brush strokes were inconsistent and without pattern so that at times I felt I was looking at an unfinished, abandoned work. For me, all that was incomplete and flawed in the work were the very elements that made this piece of art live and speak for itself.
That wasn’t the last painting that I pulled out of a New Orleans garbage can and I can say the same for my family. We learn from the abandoned works of visual artists as most people learn from their mistakes. We learn the arts of fortitude and persistence by appreciating the work that someone else, maybe even the artist, cannot.
How wonderful it is to me, then, to see that the artistic spirit and energy of NOLA residents could not be blown away or drowned out by a hurricane. Even as I walk along streets that have not recovered their residents, I can detect life in the graffiti artist’s lament or in the hand painted street signs that our neighbors made with stray pieces of fence wood, and some tempera paints from a kitchen drawer. I can drive past an abandoned housing project that may be slated for demolition and take in a painted representation of a smiling musical legend on a brick wall directly across the street and see the tragedy in not rebuilding such a sacred place. Such art has told their story and ours. It is a part of what makes our city great and helps us to persevere.
As new murals are painted across the city, we see ourselves living on. And, if I could, I would vote that we leave even graffiti up and on display. There’s no accounting for taste, is there? The only thing that remains consistent and universal for visual artists and those who appreciate them is that we all see our community in different colors. The contrast is important to take into account as we continue to envision and renew our New Orleans.

In the end, when payment was due,
the piper got his in gold-
an array of jewels that sparkled
like fairy-dust on the evening horizon.
I was there, a fair-haired child
with wide curious eyes, milking the scene
for great insights that only fade into vague
recollections of something, somewhere I had once seen.
Life, thereafter, was a proletarian brown fall
that fell to snooze button remedies
of flashing panic – waking when I should’ve,
could’ve, would’ve been awake some time before.

But some time before, I was lost,
though not in the way I am now,
the way that says in crazy dreams
things aren’t what they seem.
A listless punch-clock of blurred reality;
an electro-hum thunder glow that resonates
from below and within but then has nowhere
to go until it is too late:
Late as a measure of guilt,
a practice of imposition of one’s will
over another until victory prevails
as timeliness and order and then…

Businesses can be established,
militia formed, interest sparked, peaked & maintained-
a steady drum rhythm that makes man
stand upright a little more easy.
Time becomes the measure of the man
and not his soul – the practical, tried and true,
red, white and blue estuarial estate
of everything the pink man says is great.
And that’s great and all, but when the wall
comes down, whether at once or brick by brick,
the nature of the man is the one that will stick
in the innermost confines of the observing mind.

What I’ve observed is that when a ravage howl
cries in the night, it is the civilized man
that cries first in fright, is first in flight
and first to cry Heaven’s mercy at blight.
I’ve been to Point Pleasant in the early
dawn, when the stench of Death was Hell’s yawn,
and sat down by the riverside where it’s best
to decide from whence the current comes-
the soiled stains of an undergarment numbed
and warm, somber in the sun, while flies
play catch the flesh marmalade
and go away disease-ridden and free.

- an excerpt of “Life After the Storm by Mike Dinglersee more at http://nolarising.blogspot.com

This is the first in a monthly series of photographs taken by New Orleans children.

Artist:LaʼShay

Age 13, from Gert Town