Whenever Finnish design house Marimekko unveils something new, we know it’s going to be good. This month, they’re expanding upon the brand’s table setting category with the addition of the Syksy glass collection. In collaboration with Swedish designer Matti Klenell, the Syksy (autumn) series explores nature and weather phenomena – specifically rain. The theme is a recurring one in Marimekko’s prints, and Klenell has transformed it into a mouth-blown tumbler, goblet, and carafe series.
“Marimekko is a world leading manufacturer of prints in both fashion and interior design, so when being asked to collaborate with this great Finnish institution it felt natural to focus on patterns, and in particular the interaction of two-dimensional ornaments and three-dimensional shape,” shared Klenell. “The Syksy series brings a touch of silent calm, perhaps even a bit of melancholy, that give the items an interesting unique expression.”
The glass collection brings together functional shapes with a drawn pattern inspired by the Nordic autumn rain, displaying interpretations of a gentle drizzle and a drenching downpour. It’s sophisticated and nuanced, with an organic, relief style pattern that’s applied to the glassware in a sketched manner, typical to Klenell’s work. These pieces are as beautiful as they are practical, and can be stacked and mixed with other Marimekko tableware.
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“We are expanding our category for table setting with a completely new glass series, which brings a sense of lightness to our already rich assortment. Matti Klenell’s personal touch can be seen in the ability to combine shape and pattern into a functional entity and a part of everyday tableware. The Syksy glass series brings a breath of fresh autumn rain into Marimekko’s world of nuanced print, shape and color,” says Minna Kemell-Kutvonen, Design Director, Home & Print Design at Marimekko.
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Goblet
Goblet
Tumblers
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To learn more about the Syksy collection, visit marimekko.com.
“Relatives.” All images © Chris Pappan, shared with permission
For Chris Pappan, distinguishing between the past and present, the present and the future, is irrelevant. Time, for him, is circular and cyclical, an understanding he discusses in a new conversation with Colossal.
Our people believe that our ancestors are always with us and watching over us. I think that’s very important. In a lot of my work, I try to honor our ancestors in that way. I’m always looking at old photographs, and I feel like I’m communicating directly with them. Whether they’re my direct ancestors or indirect ancestors, that’s really special… I don’t want it to stay in the past. It’s about the present and the future, as well.
A citizen of the Kaw (Kanza) Nation and of Osage, Lakota, and European descent, Pappan is invested in honoring his ancestors while emphasizing Native American contemporaneity. He often works on municipal ledger paper and other found substrates to depict people in photorealistic detail, mirroring their faces and forms and creating myriad metaphors for split selves, distortion, and human interaction that transcend time and space.
In this conversation, Pappan discusses his evolution as an artist, the complex nature of Indigenous life in Chicago, and the importance of his new venture, the Center for Native Futures.
“Howageji Nizhuje Akipé (Where the Rivers Meet)” (2023)
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Ben Krasnow of the YouTube channel Applied Science shows how to make images on living plant leaves in his latest video.
Inspired by a 1976 video created by The Royal Institution, Krasnow takes “photosynthesis photography” to new levels by building his own camera and creating an original photo on a leaf.
Before getting to that level of complexity, it is worth looking at the much more basic versions of making images on plant leaves, also called “chlorophyll prints.” A popular way to make chlorophyll prints is to expose an existing image onto a leaf, treating the leaf itself like photographic paper.
This distinct photographic printing process relies heavily on a plant’s natural biological processes rather than putting artificial or harmful chemicals onto the leaf. By controlling the pattern in which sunlight falls onto a plant leaf, the areas that receive the most light will perform photosynthesis more rapidly. If the plant has excess energy, it will store some of the energy it does not need in the form of a starch granule. During the development process, the starch is stained dark blue, revealing the patterned light that fell on the leaf during the “printing” process.
Once a leaf has been exposed, it must be developed. The two-step process begins with an eight-minute boiling alcohol bath to remove the chlorophyll from the leaf. Pure ethanol is the recommended option, although it can be challenging to find.
The boiling process heavily dries out the leaf, which makes it crispy. A couple of minutes in water will help rehydrate the leaf before the final step in the development process.
The next step is when the magic happens. With a rehydrated but now very pale leaf, putting it in an iodine bath exposes the starch granules hidden beneath the leaf’s surface. These granules are organized according to whatever a person used to control how sunlight fell on the leaf.
The iodine solution creates a chemical compound with the starch granules, and as Krasnow notes, the risk of overexposure is minimal with this process, so photographers should just keep a leaf in the iodine solution until it does not get any darker.
Once complete, the chlorophyll print can be dried and preserved. These prints can be surprisingly detailed and offer exceptional resolution, as highlighted by artist Almudena Romero in an article on Lomography.
These prints are an enjoyable, relatively straightforward project that is safe for all ages. However, Krasnow wanted to take it further and build a camera that projects an original image onto a leaf rather than relying upon an existing print to control the light that strikes the leaf.
He built a massive lens using a large Fresnel element on the front and a single glass lens on the back. The colossal lens brings in considerable light and creates a large image circle through the back. Krasnow says it is an f/0.5 lens, so it is very bright.
Adjusting the distance between the elements changes the lens’s effective focal length, and he ultimately settled on a lens that is about 100mm. While the homemade lens has some issues with aberrations, it is not problematic for the photosynthesis photography project.
To see more from Ben Krasnow, visit Applied Science on YouTube.
Image credits: Screenshots from Krasnow’s photosynthesis photography video
Dog crates are typically unattractive, utilitarian, and bare bones but not in a good way. Fortunately, Diggs seems to have discovered the formula to sleek crate designs you don’t feel the need to hide away or cover up. The Evolv Dog Crate is the brand’s newest, slimmest dog crate yet, featuring a modular design and “playpen mode.” The safe and comfortable crate/playpen hybrid is built to easily evolve with your pooch’s needs as they grow from puppy to full-grown dog – there’s even an included puppy divider.
Highly customizable, Evolv can easily be tailored by adding or repositioning up to four secure dual lock doors, or by removing the ceiling hatch to create a sturdy playpen. It’s built to last, made with an ultra-strong, rust-resistant coated steel frame (teething puppies!), and wire mesh. Adapt Evolv further by adding doors and panels to the two included for multiple access points and a playpen panel. Then opt for the Bolstr Crate Bed, Groov Training Aid, and the Universal Bowl & Clip for full-on comfort.
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But Evolv has more going for it than good lines and versatility. It’s easy to assemble with a stress-free setup that requires no tools, and it’s proven dual lock doors ensure your pup will remain safely inside. The steel frame and wire mesh paired with Diggs’ unique diamond mesh prevent pinches to paws and jaws, while its gapless frame keeps your fingers safe from pinches. A removable tray helps contain messes and provides easy cleaning after the fact.
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You can rest assured that Diggs tests their products to the strictest of safety and quality standards – baby and children’s products. There are currently no standards for testing pet products in the United States, so it just makes sense since our dogs are our family. The brand also works with labs to create additional testing methods pertaining specifically to pets. Made from the same high-quality, safe materials as Diggs’ award-winning Revol Dog Crate, Evolv is marked at a lower price point and available in more sizes – Small, Medium, Intermediate, and Large. From tiny Terriers to robust Rottweilers, Diggs has you covered.
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Large
To learn more about Diggs’ versatile Evolv Crate-Playpen Hybrid, visit diggs.pet.
Photographer Phillip Lehans created the book “Village Beaches,” which includes a series of photographs taken at East Hampton beaches using a pinhole camera. We spoke with Lehans to find out more.
I’ve been a photographer for the last 29 years, ever since I got a camera as a middle-school graduation present from my father. Friends, vacation photos, and landscapes were my main subjects and I got my first taste of the darkroom in high school. That’s probably about the time I began to view photography as an art form, when I was hands-on through the whole process. I had always gravitated to the arts but there was something just so fascinating and soothing about the darkroom, and yes, magical. From that point on, I mostly left drawing and painting behind and went all-in on photography. I began stringing for newspapers, studied photography in college and went back to school when the medium transitioned to digital. The new technology was really exciting but required a whole different set of skills. Film photography felt as though it was doomed to be entirely phased-out but thankfully it’s held on and has even seen a resurgence.
“Village Beaches” was in every way the right project at the right time, a creative response to what was known as the “new normal.” Summer on the East End is always so hectic with most of my time being spent running a photo studio. In-season, it monopolizes the majority of my attention and creative energy. When the pandemic hit, it was basically radio silence. Nothing was happening. As brutal as this was from an income standpoint, it created an opportunity to develop a project and work in a way that attracted me to photography in the first place, as an analog, tangible art form. Over the summer of 2020, I shot 200 rolls of film for what became a very meditative, etherial series of images. Using a camera without a viewfinder, screen or any immediate method of feedback was also part of the appeal. Relinquishing a certain level of control shifted the creative process to a more intuitive and naturalistic experience.
I had purchased this wooden pinhole camera years earlier and had used it intermittently for fun. It’s not the kind of thing a client generally requests so it spent a lot of time on the shelf. It’s a miniaturized version of the origin of photography, a camera obscura, basically a box with a tiny hole in the front, no lens. The pace of the world during the pandemic called for this medium. It’s a slow, patient way of working. With exposures ranging from two seconds to a half hour, there can be a lot of down time. With nowhere to go and nothing to do that summer, hustling wasn’t really part of the culture. Exposures with longer durations were moments to settle in and absorb my surroundings, which was an excellent use of time.
Yes, my “pandemic project” is what I affectionately refer to it as. From shooting the first frame to delivering the final manuscript to my publisher took exactly a year. The ritual of setting my alarm every morning for quarter to five established a routine and sense of purpose at a time when I and much of the population was deemed “unessential.” I hadn’t done any all-consuming personal work in a long time so for better or worse, the pandemic response created the environment for me to develop a project and work in a way I wouldn’t otherwise have had the capacity to do. All the photography happened in the summer. Through fall and into winter I scanned almost 900 pieces of film for which I put together an abridged demo book. Once I got the green light from my publisher, I began to build the full version, wrote the introduction, and petitioned my friend Michael to write the foreword. By the time all the parts were in order, it was May of 2021 and the East End exploded with its characteristic, seasonal influx.
My connection to nature didn’t play as prominent a role in the beginning. The project started out a bit more mechanical, probably because I was getting reacquainted with the camera and feeling out the direction the series would take. I feel guilty sometimes when I don’t take full-enough advantage of my proximity to the ocean but a stronger bond came with familiarity. As I became immersed on a more-regular basis, I found myself increasingly in tune with nature’s rhythm and the photography almost became an accompaniment. With many of the exposures in the ten to fifteen minute-range, much of the process was out of my hands. All too often, my photography is a lot about the gear, the lighting, the lenses and the accessories. In the case of this book, nature’s influence overshadowed the equipment, which was an absolutely refreshing way to work.
So much of the work I do is digital. It’s probably 80/20 digital to film though I’d like to reverse that. Most photography these days call for digital. Clients generally need photos quickly, almost in real-time. I don’t really like how the medium has morphed in to a largely superficial, disposable craft. For this reason, I try and separate my digital “jobs” from my film-based personal-work and art. For more spontaneous and casual shooting I have a couple 35mm Canon film cameras along with a beautiful 1934 Leica. For portrait work, I really enjoy using my Contax 645 and Pentax 67. They’re slow to shoot with which feels more deliberate and with the larger film format, the images they produce have more presence.
On the East End, I’d say I’m most inspired by the people I meet. It’s a very driven population, lots of people pushing themselves, experimenting, creating things, doing their best to chart their own course. Also it’s an amazing place to find collaborators, someone trying to find the missing piece for something they’re working on. People asking, “How can we make something great?” Even in the off-season, it’s not a sedentary population.
“Village Beaches” is available locally at BookHampton and Sylvester & Co. among other specialty boutiques. Prints are available through the artist’s website, lehans.com with a select series on display at the Monika Olko Gallery in Sag Harbor.
In Cincinnati, everybody called him Joe, mostly. Or Indian Joe if they needed to distinguish him from all the other Joes wandering around the Queen City. He wasn’t young when he arrived in town, at least 70 years old, though he stood straight and tall. He was muscular enough to wrestle a bear onstage at the Kohl & Middleton Dime Museum on Vine Street.
That’s where Henry Farny found him. Farny was a famous artist, renowned for his paintings depicting life among the Native American tribes of the Old West. He sold canvases as fast as he could turn them out and might have been wealthy if he hadn’t been so focused on giving away his money. A memorial after Farny’s death [Enquirer 31 December 1916] summed up the artist’s well-known generosity:
“Anybody down and out had a friend in Farny. It was always the under dog, the one whose strength and fortune were less happy than others, that Farny’s broad mind and heart would give assistance to.”
Farny had made several trips out west, capturing the last fading echoes of the life surrendered by Native Americans under the onslaught of European expansion. His friends claimed Farny was fluent in the Sioux language, but he was at least proficient enough to understand simple conversations. One evening, Farny and fellow artist Martin Rettig attended a show at a local theater. On stage, a family of Sioux performed traditional dances and demonstrated their skill at various crafts. When the father of the family stood to give a speech, Farny leaped out of his seat in outrage. Farny gathered that the Sioux family had a complaint against the government and the unscrupulous manager assured them he would see that they got an audience with the U.S. President. In preparation for the presidential visit, the manager told the family they needed to attend several “receptions” at a series of vaudeville theaters along the way. Farny heard the Father say he was tired of these receptions and would he ever see the President? On Farny’s insistence, the family was given passage home and their “manager” split town.
When Farny saw Indian Joe wrestling that bear for another shady impresario, he got Joe out of that contract and into a job as janitor at the Cincinnati Art Club on Fourth Street. In those days, a janitor was not only a custodian and cleaner, but also what we would call a building superintendent today. The Art Club offered generous flextime and Joe could take off for weeks at a time if a decent vaudeville gig came around.
Farny also learned Joe’s real name, or at least the English translation of it. He was Chief Ogallala Fire, and there hangs a tale. Ogallala Fire was born sometime around 1826 and spent most of his life fighting white settlers encroaching on Sioux lands. According to the Chicago Tribune [3 January 1916]:
“In the days of Indian warfare, Chief Ogallala Fire was known as one of the bravest warriors of the Sioux. History relates that he led his warriors in many raids on white settlements in Wyoming and once defied a detachment of United States soldiers who trapped him in the mountains for two months [until he] finally escaped.”
Ogallala Fire was almost 50 when General George Armstrong Custer led an army against the Sioux in 1876. The expedition ended with Custer and his entire battalion slaughtered at Little Big Horn. Ogallala Fire spent the rest of his life not only claiming participation in that battle, but that he himself had killed Custer in hand-to-hand combat. He certainly had battle scars consistent with a life as a warrior. According to the Chicago Tribune:
“In ‘Custer’s Last Fight’ Chief Ogallala Fire received two bullets, was slashed across the head with a saber in the hands of an officer, and was pinned to the ground from a bayonet thrust through his shoulder by a soldier.”
After that battle, Chief Ogallala Fire resigned himself to life on a reservation and might have stayed there the rest of his life had not show business come calling. Charles A. Eastman, an American Indian physician known as Ohiyesa among the Dakota Sioux, recalled meeting Ogallala Fire:
“In 1892, I scarcely believed that he would ever leave the reservation, but in his latter days he was caught by the white man’s vices, the love of money and the desire for ‘fire-water,’ coupled with the old habit of wandering. He traveled in this country and abroad with Buffalo Bill.”
After a triumphal engagement at the Chicago World’s Fair, Ogallala Fire hit the road with Buffalo Bill and other Wild West shows, eventually settling into the bear-wrestling act that brought him to Cincinnati. Whether his thirst for liquor was any stronger than the average Cincinnatian is a matter of dispute, but Ogallala Fire was occasionally arrested for public drunkenness here. He was also arrested frequently just because the police were looking for someone who looked like an Indian and he fit the bill. This harassment repeated so often that Farny, weary of getting his innocent friend released, fired off a testy note to the mayor.
One day, when Ogallala Fire had been on the road with one of the Wild West shows, Farny hosted several friends in his studio. They heard some strange chanting rising from the nearby stairwell. According to the Enquirer [31 December 1916]:
“Farny, after listening for a few seconds, with sparkling eyes, grabbed a tom-tom, and, beckoning his friends to follow him, began to dance in true Sioux fashion around the large studio, all the time beating the tom-tom. The music outside grew stronger and stronger until the door was swung wide open and an Indian appeared beautifully garbed. He leaped into the room and dancing like mad with occasional shrieks of joy thus expressed his delight over his reception. It was Joe, as the tribe called him, ‘Ogallala Fire,’ the old favorite Sioux model of Farny’s whom he had not seen then for a long time. Farny was indeed glad to have him again, a fact accentuated by the gold piece he bestowed upon him immediately.”
Farny painted multiple portraits of Ogallala Fire and incorporated his likeness into dozens of other paintings. Other Cincinnati artists including John Hauser also employed him as a model. As the Wild West shows faded in popularity, Ogallala Fire found work in the nascent motion picture industry, appearing in several early silent films.
It was the Chicago Feature Film Company, shooting an “oater’ with b-list actress Lily Branscomb that brought Ogallala Fire to Chicago around 1914. He ended up staying there at the home of a granddaughter. One day, after a long illness, he asked for a razor and sliced his throat. Despite medical intervention Ogallala Fire died, aged 90, a week later. The old chief once told Charles A. Eastman/Ohiyesa:
“Friend, I have engaged in more than 100 battles, but never have I been bewildered except when I entered a city of the white man. There my spirit is lonesome, as it never was on the uninhabited prairie. The people seem to me more like bears and wolves.”
