I go with my gut,” says Sara Vance Waddell
about her philosophical approach to collecting art. And it is clear that
trusting her instinct has done her well as the marketing and
advertising CEO/president of her own media business.
Todd Slaughter doesn’t make the driving
force behind his artistic endeavors especially easy to understand. And,
actually, since he talks in pieces — individual art pieces — it can be
rather difficult to perceive unless one is being both extremely
observant and relatively obscure (also: intelligent).
The narrowing eyes glance sideways across the room and seem to ask, “What are you
looking at?” At the same time, they draw you into the small Sinton
Gallery at the Taft Museum of Art. Inside, other young black males meet
your gaze from every direction.
The strange ways we remember Elvis Presley are best
summed up by the lyrics of the late Warren Zevon’s “Jesus Mentioned,” in
which he imagines traveling to Memphis to see the dead King: “He went
walking on the water … with his pills.”
“I don’t know the people, but I like the way they look,” says longtime Cincinnati Post photojournalist Melvin Grier.
Grier is at Iris BookCafé, surveying
black-and-white photos of local musicians. Some are national names,
others up-and-comers. All were shot by fellow photographer Michael
Wilson, who should be a national name but isn’t.
By the time you read this, Patrick Cost —
Direct Support Professional (DSP) for Living Arrangements for the
Developmentally Disabled (LADD) — and his friend and charge, artist Mike
Weber, will be in Japan.
Restrictions can be a powerful impetus
for creativity — parents whose bedtime rules are questioned would agree.
Artists never lose their sense of questioning, but resort to fresh
approaches when boundaries are imposed.
“Sometimes it’s hard to explain what we do
because it’s still evolving,” says Philip Valois, designer and
co-founder of Reptiles+Rainbows, a multidisciplinary design studio he
began in early 2013 with designer, art director and life partner, Carla