JUNPEI KATSUMI

Kamakura is less than an hour and a half from downtown Tokyo by train, but it feels like another planet. Compared to a frenetic neighborhood like Shibuya, Kamakura’s pace is glacial, in the best possible way. There, Hawaii-themed restaurants sit next to quiet hillside temples, and a community of surfers paddles out daily to meet the waves. Despite a booming tourist industry, the city feels a bit sleepy, like an undiscovered seaside gem. And nestled inside Kamakura’s farmers market is a gem of another kind—Paradise Alley, a small, quirky café owned by Junpei Katsumi, a 40-year-old gluten master who opened this mecca to flour a decade ago. He’s become renowned not just for his skills but for his unique baked goods, like the jet-black takesumi (bamboo ash) bread, which Katsumi says could help with the after-effects of the 2011 Fukushima nuclear disaster. “I think the ash absorbs and discharges any waste products or radioactive substances in the body.” When Katsumi’s not in Paradise Alley, he can be found creating works of bread art and decorating them with elaborate flour patterns or political messages. The term “baker” doesn’t seem sufficient to sum him up.

Katsumi grew up in Kamakura, in fact, and has lived there since birth. (Though, he notes, “Along the way, I came and went.”) “The good part about Kamakura,” he explains, “is that a lot of interesting people gather and live here. The bad part is that it’s a half-baked tourist destination.” It’s no surprise that he ended up as a baker, given his family’s connection to the land. “My grandfather and grandmother were laborers, and my father works a farm,” he explains. “My mother ran a classroom for baking and cooking from the time I was in kindergarten, and still does to this day.” Still, he wasn’t certain he’d follow in the family footsteps. “In the beginning, baking was just something I could do—I hadn’t thought about it much before that.” And as anyone who’s tackled the scientific, time-intensive process of baking a loaf of bread will tell you, it’s not something one masters easily. “Culturing and fermentation are tough,” he admits.

Katsumi opened his own café, Paradise Alley, about 10 years ago. At the time, he was trying to avoid joining Japan’s notoriously strenuous business world, but also attempting to figure out how to make a living. “Paradise Alley was kind of like rehabilitation,” says Katsumi. There he sells not just simple, earthy lunches but also his delicious handmade bread: massive, sculptural loaves and focaccia-based pizzas. And he takes his work seriously—he’s downright philosophical when it comes to the composition of bread and its place in the ecosystem. “Both yeast and bacteria exist at the border between the world we see and the world we can’t see. In people, birds, fish, all kinds of animals—even the bugs in the ground—and in bacteria, life is churning away.”

But Katsumi’s work goes beyond the realm of foodstuffs and enters into the territory of art; his architectural, undulating bread creations look less like they came out of a bakery’s oven and more like works that belong in a museum. He creates these gluten masterpieces for parties, art shows and other special occasions; one recent piece was a huge bread sculpture in the shape of a peace sign, bearing the words “STOP WARS” in the Star Wars font. “I make bread with various messages, like congratulations, hope, nature, space and time, wishing for safe child birth, space, harmony and many others,” he explains. “I also make bread in the shape of the different planets in the solar system, the pyramids and shrines.” It should be no surprise, then, that his works of art are occasionally mistaken for something else: “I think the best was when someone once mistook one as a cushion, and sat on it,” he recalls.
 

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SAMOVAR TEA BAR

Samovar Tea Bar in the Mission District of San Francisco is a peaceful haven to slow down and enjoy the present moment.  Founder Jesse Jacobs’ vision for the beautiful, minimalist, ceramic-filled space was to provide a vehicle for his guests to remember what it is to be human by the simple act of relaxing and energizing with a cup of tea. Samovar offers a wide selection of organic specialty teas and herbal blends all sourced from artisan tea farmers around the world who share Jacobs’ commitment to preserving an ancient art.
 

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BEN EINE

Artist Ben Eine is a happy man and he’s not afraid to show it, or, um, paint it. The former Lloyd’s of London agent by day/train defacer by night/turned contemporary art star has a lot to be excited about lately. Most recently he opened his first solo show in New York, Heartfelt, at Judith Charles Gallery and completed a rare piece of sanctioned street art on the walls of a U.S. maximum-security prison. The piece, “AMAZE,” is in his signature Tenderloin font on the front of Rikers Island gym.

“There’s a warden in this prison that is well up for people painting stuff and making his prison look better,” Eine told the Daily Telegraph UK. “It’s the only prison in the world that has graffiti and street art in it.”

Thankfully, Eine is on the right side of those prison walls, despite his degenerate start as an all-city vandal in the British graffiti scene of the ’80s. Eine’s early career in prolific public surface abstraction is where he met Banksy, with whom he would later collaborate and become his exclusive screen printer. It’s as a master hand screen-puller that Eine would accomplish his first Guinness World Record for the most colors in a print. That’s 72, if you’re counting.

In 2010, Eine completed what’s now known as Alphabet Street in East London. All the letters in the alphabet, A to Z in sequence, are painted on 26 shop gates with Eine’s signature font in candy colors. Eine worked for a year putting the squeeze on Middlesex shop owners to let him create a street of dreams for graf artists and a quick reference guide for the stroller set learning their letters. The work is still a source of pride for the neighborhood and a tourist attraction.

 

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Recently relocated from London to San Francisco, EINE is now seeing his industrious graffiti and screen-printing background pay off nicely. Not only is his “Twenty First Century City” painting part of the Obama White House’s art collection, but in 2013 he helped initiate a mile-high club for art collectors via Virgin Airlines. Partnering with Richard Branson, Eine opened a show in the first commercial art gallery at 35,000 feet with the Gallery in the Air exhibition, offering Upper Class passengers flying between London and New York the opportunity to view and purchase 10 of his latest paintings, all from the comfort of their seats. It was a party along with the Branson-head-shaped ice cubes available at the bar.

Of course, when one flies first class, one needs the appropriate gear, and perhaps that would include Eine’s Louis Vuitton “Great Adventures” scarf, a textile design the retailer commissioned as part of its ongoing Foulard D’Artistes series. With this exemplary assignment, Eine joined the likes of fashion’s original type gangster Stephen Sprouse in updating the iconic brand. Having painted the words GREAT ADVENTURES on the street in many of his stops around the world—Beijing, Osaka, Copenhagen, Dallas and San Francisco—Eine believes the phrase to be inspirational, meaning something different to everyone who sees it, or in the case of Louis Vuitton, wears it.

Already a long list of firsts for Ben Eine, and there is one more to add: the back-cover piece for Citizens of Humanity magazine, inspired by and continuing his surprising love for fashion.

“Fashion has always been a massive part of my life, growing up,” admitted Eine in a previous interview. “When we were much younger it was all about early hip-hop and Vivienne Westwood; her clothes had the attitude we were trying to project to the world around us. Subcultures always dress in a style that identifies them—graffiti writers, skateboarders, punks, etc. Even now I still dress in a way I feel identifies me as who I am and what I do.”

 

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DUSTIN BARCA

DUSTIN BARCA WENT FROM PROFESSIONAL SURFING TO MMA FIGHTING, BUT NOW HE’S TRYING TO BEAT OUT BERNARD CARVAHLO JR. IN THE KAUAI MAYORAL RACE.

It isn’t easy fighting against government corruption and some of the largest GMO giants in the world, and for Dustin Barca, that means waking up at 6am. Family comes first, and this morning Barca is helping his kids make poi, the pudding-like staple in Hawaiian cuisine made from taro root, but that’s just the beginning of the Kauai mayoral candidate’s day, which lately has been filled with events and meetings with local constituents.

A native of Kauai, the fourth-largest most northern island of the Hawaiian archipelago, the 32-year-old father of three once rode the waves as a professional surfer before becoming a Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) fighter — “The two biggest things in Hawaii are surfing and fighting,” he says — and then he set his sights on a completely different path: running for mayor of Kauai.

Barca grew up with a younger brother and a single mother, who struggled to make ends meet by working three jobs, so he grew up surrounded by the community. Barca says then around 5-years-old, he got on a surfboard for the first time at Hanalei Pier. “A big group of us who started surfing together just ended up being competitive with each other,” he says. The Hawaiian surf company Town & Country started sponsoring him, then Oakley. As a teenager, he began competing and progressed quickly.

Barca traveled for years to the world’s most beautiful beaches but grew tired of the lifestyle when he started a family with his girlfriend six years ago. “I was burned out on surfing,” says Barca. “I was always away from home, I had kids and couldn’t see them. I missed the first year of my son’s life because I was traveling.”

Initially Barca started training in boxing to stay in shape for surfing, “always admiring the humility and respect and everything that comes along with it [MMA fighting], and the mentality of martial arts,” he says. After he decided to move on from surfing, he pursued MMA fighting. “I’d go to jiu-jitsu in the morning, boxing in the evening,” he says. “I just fell in love with it.

Barca’s political aspirations all started when his daughter had eczema, which he later discovered came from a gluten allergy. “I started reading about these companies that were taking over the food industry and the seed industry,” says Barca.

Although Kauai is rich in edible plant life like sugarcane, coffee, guava, mango, banana, pineapple, star fruit, avocado, banana and kava, about 90 percent of the food consumed there is imported. In addition, the island is haven for testing genetically modified organisms (GMOs), thanks to its three growing seasons, so companies like Syngenta, Pioneer Hi-Bred and Agrigenetics have set up camp there because they can accomplish testing three times as fast as they can on the mainland.

 

 

 

 

The more Barca learned about the companies, the more he found out about their dark pasts. One company, IG Farben, which eventually became the German chemical company BASF, used to make the gas that killed Jewish detainees at Nazi concentration camps. “These are really heavy companies when you look into their history and see what they’ve been involved with throughout time,” says Barca. “There’s been nothing but death and destruction.”

On top of that, the American Academy of Environmental Medicine warns against consuming GMO crops. “Several animal studies indicate serious health risks associated with GM food,” they warned. Those health risks include infertility, immune problems, accelerated aging, insulin regulation irregularities, and changes in major organs and the gastrointestinal system.

Barca couldn’t just stand on the sidelines. He wanted to take a stand, so in 2012 he decided to do so in a big way — at one of the biggest tournaments in professional surfing: Pipe Masters. “I got a sign that says ‘Monsanto’s GMO food poisons families,’” says Barca. The sign didn’t just attract the attention of those who were there to watch the best male surfers in the world compete. It attracted the attention of the media there covering the event. Word spread. “I never expected to make that much of an impact just by doing that, but I did.”

The reaction he got during Pipe Masters that year inspired him to organize a march in each of the five islands in Hawaii. The protest in Kauai, which happened to be scheduled the same day as a storm that cause a torrential downpour, still attracted, according to Barca, “2,000 people ready to march for the future of their island.”

Activism became Barca’s second job. Meanwhile, Barca worked as an MMA fighter to support his family. “I was shooting for my goal of going to fight in the UFC, but a bigger fight came up,” he says.

That fight began when he saw incumbent mayor Bernard Carvahlo Jr. announce his run for reelection. What turned off Barca the most about that announcement was that several executives from the companies testing GMO crops on the island stood behind Carvahlo. During his time in office, Carvahlo also mysteriously drained millions of dollars from Kauai’s budget, setting the island up for debt. “The corruption is just so in our face and disrespectful, so I thought nobody is going to take this guy out of his seat and he’s just going to make bad decisions for our island for another four years that just might affect us forever,” says Barca, who made his decision to run for mayor, despite having no political experience, that day.

While critics may say that Barca, a high school dropout, may not be prepared for the mayoral seat, the surfer turned MMA fighter turned activist insists that he’s ready. “I went to the world college of learning from every culture in the world,” says Barca. “I’ve been to the ghettos of Rio de Janeiro, I’ve spent weeks in Johannesburg, South Africa in the worst places. I’ve seen the worst places in the world. I’ve seen and learned from many different cultures.”

Barca knows very well that if he wins, he won’t be able to run the island alone. Along with encouraging residents to eat locally and pushing the GMO companies out, Barca is also fighting for rehabilitation programs because drug abuse is a big problem on Kauai. He also wants to prevent the GMO companies from dumping the run off into the oceans because they’re killing the reefs. “Me being mayor isn’t going to solve everything, but putting the right people in the right positions is how we’re going to solve things,”

These days, Barca isn’t getting much sleep as he prepares for the November 4, 2014 election, but for him, the sacrifice is well worth it if it means a better Kauai for his family and community. “I believe in upholding the constitution and I believe in keeping the power to the people and that’s what I believe in,” he says. “I believe in making the right decisions for people. That’s what I’m going to bring to the table.”

 

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MIKE TYSON

At the start of each issue, we all sit down to brainstorm potential profiles and features; Mike Tyson has been on this list since issue one. With the article now realized, the ideas that everything happens at the right time for good reason and nothing great comes easily ring all too true. When the opportunity to do a feature on him became a real possibility for this issue, the question internally became how to share a side of Mike Tyson that is different from the countless interviews, articles, biographies both authorized and unauthorized, documentaries and films to date.

We all agreed that our best shot at having a unique angle would be to find the right person to interview him, and thanks to Leila Steinberg, Earl Sweatshirt of Odd Future agreed to the task. On November 4th, we took a flight to Las Vegas, where Earl sat down with Mike. There were many times when this interview could have fallen apart, both in the days and weeks leading up to it and even after we arrived, but it happened, and the results were worth every moment. I didn’t know much about Mike Tyson prior to this experience, but what I learned from him is invaluable. That is not to say he is without faults like all of us, but he’s the first to admit them, and his honesty, openness, insight, strength and perseverance make him someone I greatly admire. I hope you find the following conversation as rewarding as Earl and all of us at HUMANITY do.

Mike: How old are you, man?

Earl: I’m 20.

Mike: What do you have to say to me?

Earl: So I got presented with the opportunity to come talk to you.

Mike: Yeah.  Where are you from?

Earl: I’m from LA. So I was trying to figure out kind of what angle to start at when I first got approached with this.

Mike: Are you now?

Earl: Well the first thing that came to mind after doing just a little bit of research that I did was just some of the parallels that – just between me and you, that I thought we had just at 20. Just with being in the position that you was in.

Mike: I mean, you’re pretty much an idiot at 20.

Earl: Right, that’s what I feel like. I got to 20, and I –

Mike: You’re not an idiot, but you are. You don’t really think you’re an idiot, but you are.

Earl: Right.

Mike: But you don’t think it. Like you’re in agreement, but you’re an idiot.

Earl: No, I swear, I was talking to someone yesterday, and I said the mark of me being an adult was when I got to the point where I realized how little I knew.

Mike: Oh, man. I’m humbled with that every moment of my life.  I think I know a lot, but I don’t know anything. I think I know a lot; they talk about a lot of subjects and issues but in the scheme of the world, it’s really not even a grain of salt.

Earl: So, I just thought you would have some real valuable insight just to give to people who are in positions like mine or just similar to mine where you’re just a young person getting pulled from every single different direction.

Mike: Who’s pulling you? Record companies and stuff?

Earl: Well, at first it was record companies, and then when that kind of settled down, it was management.

Mike: What do you need management for? When you think about it, what’s the purpose of management? In boxing, in my opinion. For boxers! I think they, I don’t know, they’re glamorized babysitters.

Earl: Yes, 100%.

Mike: So they say, “Hey, come here. We gotta go here. We gotta go there. We gotta go here. We gotta go there.” You have to give 10 or 15% of your money, whatever it is…

Earl: To think for you, almost, to handle like, kind of mindless duties.

Mike: Yeah, you’ve thought about that too?

Earl: Yeah. Me and Leila always talk about that, she tells me all the time I am unmanageable. Just because I am reclusive and I am the worst at communicating.

Mike: Well, that could be good too. Because the most important thing in the world for show business, really, you know everything’s a high-tech business, but what people want now is what they can’t get – exclusivity. You know, when you’re exclusive, you know what I mean.

 

 

Earl: It’s the allure.

Mike: Yeah.

Earl: It’s what draws people to you.

Mike: None of us are really who we appear to be. Like me talking to you, this is not who I am.

Earl: Right.

Mike: We’re in an interview. This is not who you are. We are never who we appear to be.

Earl: Mhmm.

Mike: And yeah, but like you said it’s the allure, exclusivity. The less you give, the more they want.

Earl: It’s what has worked with so many people. I don’t know if you know one of my favorite artists, André 3000, like he has dropped probably 10 or 15 songs that fans of his know every single word to, as opposed to like 1,000 songs, some is good, some is bad.  A testament to the exclusivity.

Mike: Yeah, he is a big-time guy.

Earl: Because he does so little.

Mike: Sometimes, people have reasons for being that way, something that you’re hiding, sometimes just like – some people don’t want people to know them, because they’re vulnerable. They have no more power, they feel.

Earl: That’s true. I think mine was more gradual, because I used to be a much more social person. And when I was 16, I got sent away for bad behavior by my mom.

Mike: What did you do?

Earl: I hadn’t done anything specifically, but it was just like –

Mike: Did you break the law?

Earl: I broke the law, but it wasn’t so much that, she was worried about my identity, you know what I mean, and just how I was establishing it. Like the man I was becoming. So I had to spend that year and a half just like searching for myself, you know what I mean, just like figuring myself out.

Mike: We don’t know at 20 years old the man we want to be. I just recently found out the man I wanted to be in life. I said, “This is the guy I want to be.” And I realized everything I did in the past prevented me from being the person that I wanted to be, so I don’t do what I did in the past anymore. But it took me to be what, 45, 47, 48 to really get it, so it’s not like I’m some genius. I learned from experience, no one told me to follow anybody else’s example, I had to feel the stove to realize it was hot. Some people say I’m an idiot because it took me this long to get it and some people can get it right away, some people take a long time. But I got it, At least I got it, some people never get it. I grasped it. I realized I’m not in the streets, I’m not in the clubs no more, you know, I’m not sleeping with strippers or anybody like that.

Earl: Right.

Mike: But whatever it is I’m just not doing that. I never really knew what dignity was until recently. And I realized that more so not because of myself but the response I get from people, you know, a woman won’t have to worry about talking to me and worrying about me hitting on them anymore or anything like that.

Earl: And that’s gotta be the best feeling.

Mike: Yeah, it makes me feel good, because when you sleep with so many people, all my life I thought that was adding to who I was, but it takes so much away from you.

 

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Mike: You know anger is my biggest enemy in life. I do a lot of reading on the history. I read the history, the whole history of the world, you know, from the beginning. And we have so many people, a lot of people. But do you know what we did more than fornicate?

Earl: Fight?

Mike: War, yeah. We fought more than we fucked. Ain’t that crazy?  We got billions people on the planet. Even from the beginning, from the beginning of time when that book starts, fighting! What are we getting into now? Fighting! Fighting…from all that fighting, great names, great great great names, them fools be fighting, you know like George Washington All the great names, all these names came from fighting. And what for…

Earl: Fighting against something.

Mike: Yeah, themselves.

Earl: Some were fighting for like civil rights, you know – like it’s all fighting.

Mike: I think war is led by faith. I never think of physical fighting. It’s always spiritual. Fighting is spiritual.

Earl: Absolutely. Yeah. I got familiar with that concept early, just because my mom, she was always working, so she dropped me off at this martial arts dojo. And the dude instilled – we had to meditate for an hour every time, before we did anything. We would meditate. Just to connect to the spiritual side of it. And like, going inside of yourself and realizing the immense power that lies within you, just as a person.

Mike: You know young man; it’s all about spiritual awakenings. I could never stop drugs, I could never stop drinking, doing stuff, until I received my spiritual awakening. Now it’s not a problem anymore. But I’ve been doing this since the ’90s, late ’90s and I never could stop but I never understood the spiritual awakening. And once that comes into play, it’s really eye opening.

Earl: It’s so much bigger than human constraints.

Mike: You’ve got brothers and sisters?

Earl: yeah, I do. Like, my friends are my brothers. Like my real close ones. I got them like that. And I got siblings on my father’s side.

Mike: Tell me about you man, who you are, what’s your shtick, man.

Earl: I do music. So I came –

Mike: Like songs and stuff, records and radio and stuff?

Earl: Not so much radio. I was fortunate enough to – we like developed our own, like self-sustaining like fan base that was separate. So when I was like 14, I was getting better at rapping, like running around L.A., trying to find like people to do music with. And I linked up with this dude Tyler. And he had this whole thing going on already. We started making music, and it was like, it was idiot music, but it was really, I think, what we had in hindsight, what attracted so many people to it was potential. Like we weren’t necessarily talking about anything, but the way that the music was, it was like sophisticated in a sense for our age. So anyways, we’re doing that.

Mike: What’s the name of your music?

Earl: The group that I was in was called Odd Future. So we was doing that. Fast forward, 2010, so I want to say that was like 2008 to 2010. Mid 2010, I got sent away. And we blew up. Like at that moment, it was like hand in hand. I got sent away, and –

Mike: Tell me what you mean by “blow up”. I know what blowing up means but how did you experience—define “blowing up”. You got signed? They played your music?

Earl: Yeah, they started… but it wasn’t even so much, that they played our music on the radio, it was –

Mike: Clubs?

Earl: It was like – it was almost punk rock in the way that it took off. It was just kids became, like, obsessed with it, because they –

Mike: You a crunk dancer?

Earl: Nah…We didn’t dance too much, but it was – they got attached, because in the same way that that punk expressed, like, the angst of being a teenager so well, a lot of our music and early energy had a lot of those elements. You know, that teens, really attach to, you know what I mean – just illogical… passionate unaimed anger, you know. Like, I don’t even know, but I’m just swinging.

Mike: When’s your birthday?

Earl: February 24th.

Mike: Is that Pisces?

Earl: Yes, sir. So I get plucked out. It blows up while I’m gone. The whole time that I was gone, for the first year, I went to hell. It was the worst. Because I wasn’t involved.

Mike: Well, how exactly you wasn’t involved, because you weren’t there physically?

Earl: I wasn’t involved, I wasn’t there physically, I was mad.

Mike: But you were in the group; you were a member of the group on paper, right?

Earl: Yeah.

Mike: Did you receive your money?

Earl: I mean… I got money, but it was from when I signed my advance with the label.

Mike: I ain’t never loan friends money; I give it to ‘em and I don’t expect to get it back. Even when he says, “I’ll pay you back,” I never expect it. If he gives it back, then hey, that’s a feather in his cap, but I don’t expect to get it back.

Earl: That’s where I’m always at. I’m never…I was never even mad about it. I was just… way more obsessed with preserving the friendship.

Mike: Listen, you know sometimes that’s a really an intense word, “friend.” You know sometimes during a relationship, a friendship, a friend’s gonna have to prove they’re your friend, and you’re gonna have to prove you’re their friend. You know, sometimes, the people we invest the most time in disappoint us the most.

Earl: Absolutely. This is the best way to summarize the situation.

Mike: In order to really be a friend to anybody, this is what I’ve learned in life and my experience only, not because I’m a genius, but that I’m saying some slick shit. I endured a lot of pain from this. In order to be a friend to anybody, you have to be a friend to yourself. If you’re not a friend to yourself, there’s no way you’re gonna have any friends.

Earl: If you’re stepping on yourself, then everyone else follows suit.

Mike: You have to be a friend to yourself. You know, ‘cause if you’re not a friend to yourself, you’re an enemy to yourself and if someone’s a friend of everybody they are an enemy to themselves. You know, you can’t be everybody’s friend, you can’t save the world, I learned this word: self-preservation. Once you do that, you can be friends with people, but how would you be a friend to anybody if you’re not a friend to yourself.

Earl: It’s like the same reason why they tell you to put the mask on yourself before the baby on a plane. Because if y’all both dead, because you was trying to help the baby, then what?

Mike: Exactly, you need to learn independence. You have to be independent – it builds character. You have to compete in life because if you don’t have no competition – no competition, no spirit, you know, you’ll fall under the slightest struggle… you know.

Earl: Absolutely – one thing I always try and tell dudes that are younger than me is that because of the Internet everyone can just be by themselves doing something, but the importance of a group is being able to have some sort of competition.

Mike: No doubt about it. You know, times have changed now because I grew up pretty much in the ‘70s, late, middle ‘70s. I met all my friends in the early ‘80s and met all my friends from fighting with them.

Earl: Yeah.

Mike: Most of them from the streets, we loved each other to death, we’d fight for each other, do anything…we even shot at each other. You know? We’re in different cliques, and we shot at each other. It’s really bizarre, if you think about it. It’s really bizarre. And I don’t know how it works, but it just works. It just works. Friends are very – that’s a very interesting word… human beings are a bad lot, y’know.

Earl: We’re some of the worst – yeah, I sit around and think sometimes about the constraints of being a human being.

 

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Mike: You have to experience life. This world, That’s one big school out there. Outside is one big school. You know?

Earl: It gives you a Ph.D. in common sense.

Mike: Common sense is so very simple but very difficult to grasp.

Earl: Psh! Tell me about it. It’s crazy how many people are absent of common sense.

Mike: It’s all about the basics. If you can’t remember the small things, how are you going to remember the big things? Man- you know The mind is a real dangerous neighborhood to travel by ourselves. You think the hood is bad? Try hanging out here by yourself.

Earl: It’s the worst. It’s the worst, man – I always say you can always spot an addict by the person that can’t stop talking. ‘Cause they can’t be in silence. There can’t be an idle moment.

Mike: You can tell when an addict’s lying, too.

Earl: Always.

Mike: You know why, because he’s talking but that’s what the ego is meant to do. The ego’s mean, he’s gotta to be crushed. That’s what I need, I need my ego crushed. Smashed, obliterated. But my ego has given me everything that I have. My ego’s given me fame. My ego’s given me hundreds of millions of dollars, the most beautiful woman in the world – how can I let this go, are you fucking nuts? How do I crush it, how do I let this go?

Earl: Dude, ego is my career. Rap music is all ego.

Mike: How you let it go, you know? It has to be crushed, but it gives you everything you want, but it takes back so much more in return.

Earl: I feel like – I was lucky enough to get my ego crushed, when I was, like, 16. When I got sent away.

Mike: You know, you’re only 20; you’re not crushed yet.

Earl: True –

Mike: It’ll be in hibernation for a while, but it comes back, that’s just how it is – it comes back to help you, it gives you confidence. Gives you a full sense of courage. It just does all that stuff. But it goes too far sometimes. You know, you can’t control it. It’s all about being in control. Like, your mind – if you did everything your mind told you to do, you do some really strange stuff. You’ll probably be in jail, you’ll be in trouble. But you know, it’s all about control. We all have to control our feelings. That’s the thing that separates us from animals.

Earl: One thing that my mom told me that stuck so much that I feel like relates to what you was just talking about is there being only two real primal emotions – fear and love. And like, the only thing that can combat fear is action. And there’s two actions. There’s fight and flight.

Mike: There’s nothing to fear but fear itself. It’s an illusion of fear. Fear is an illusion. If you gonna die, you gonna die anyway; it’s not something to fear, fear is not gonna help.

It’s going to be over soon. Somebody’s going to die, or somebody’s going to get sick, someone might leave. It’s not going to last forever. You know, it’s going to be over soon. You know, the thought of that never enters my mind. This is the reality of life. I watched that movie The Notebook. You ever watched that?

Earl: I haven’t watched it.

Mike: Ah, young man, I don’t even know if you understand that stage of life yet. Very interesting thing about that movie, very interesting, it’s one of the movies that makes me really vulnerable. It makes me very vulnerable, because you work so hard for something and you don’t want to let it go.

Earl: Mhmm.

Mike: Let me see. For instance, this is really interesting. It boggles me sometimes, I always wondered the way we determine our age.

Before Julius Caesar, because he made a year 365 days, how could we detect our age? How did we tell? Methuselah was 900, right? So back then it was probably weeks or something. So how did we detect how old we were, determine how old we were before Julius Caesar was born?

Earl: Before there was like a year system?

Mike: Yeah, how’s that one, that’s pretty tricky now, you think? So we don’t know how old we are.

Earl: Everything was based on the sun.  The sun. Setting, rising, over the course of the year, over the horizon.

Mike: Many moons, right? But when it comes down to really deep down, we don’t know anything. We don’t know anything. Nobody was actually there to tell, this is what actually happened. You know, no one can tell us; this is the real reason why Lincoln freed the slaves. No one can really say anything, they had to be there, you know, to tell us. When you think about it the world is, what? We don’t know how old the world is. But the written word is 6,000 years old. Six thousand years is a blink compared to the world, and the activity in the world. Six thousand years is nothing. Nothing.

Earl: That’s why all we got is right now.

Mike: Yeah, the moment. There’s no future in our past. Just experience. You know, we want to return to it, but we don’t want to close the door on it either. You know, that’s information so we don’t make the same mistakes.  There’s nothing wrong with making mistakes, just don’t make the same ones. We don’t want to duplicate them.

Earl: I’ve got a quick question for you. One of the things I thought was really interesting you said in your documentary was: “There’s nothing like being young, and happy, and fighting.”

It sounds like such a contradiction, you know, to be happy and fighting.

Mike: Right you know this is interesting that you say that. That’s wild. Because when people see me and they say I’m coming back from what they say is the doldrums, or disaster, or something. But listen, you’ve got to be happy now. I’m not happy because I have received such success, I’m happy because – I’m not doing anything deceitful, I think, to my family. I’m successful because I don’t have to sleep with one of my friends’ girlfriends or wife or something. That’s why I’m successful, that’s success to me. I’m not dead, I’m not in the gutter – that’s success to me.

Earl: And it’s a profound statement because if you’re happy, you enjoy what you’re doing. And when you stop it just means you’re just going through the motions.

Mike: Absolutely, because you go through the motions and you are still successful. Until you run into someone who’s happier doing what he’s doing.

Earl: Exactly. So my question was at what point did you stop being happy? Like when did you start feeling that you were clocking in?

Mike: Wow, that’s awful, you know. Really early in my career, probably 14.

Earl: My last question, Mike, when you like achieve success like you have, how does that affect those around you – how do you get them to be motivated and not feel content?

Mike: It’s just strange to me how I have such a profound passion for my kids. I think about Just wanting to protect them. – You think id ever let my son fight a 14-year-old kid or something like me that has nothing, never had nothing?

Earl: Because he comes from a different place. It comes from desperation.

Mike: I look at my beautiful son, he’s so beautiful and handsome. And I think what a guy like me would do to this face. I would choke it, take a chunk of meat out of his head, bite his beautiful face. I would hurt him, and I’m just looking at him and I’m thinking your dad was one of them animals out there. I don’t expect my kids to be “fighters”; my kids never lived in a condemned building with their family. Most of them are at Ivy League schools, their mothers are good mothers, you know, they do good stuff with them. I don’t want my kids to be like me, I don’t want my daughter to date the guy like me. You know, a guy like me success is to take care of my children to take care of their life and make ‘em cushioned. I don’t want them to be around a people like me. You know, success for me would be that they never have the opportunity of being in the presence of someone like me.

 

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HEATH CERAMICS

THE ICONIC MID-CENTURY TABLEWARE BRAND HONORS ITS PAST AND BUILDS ON ITS LEGACY. 

Most couples filling out their wedding registries look for dishware and place settings at one of the well-meaning yet characterless chain stores that dot the suburbs. But for design enthusiasts with exacting eyes, and anyone with a passion for handmade housewares with real presence, there’s only one option: Heath. The ceramic brand was founded by Edith Heath in 1948 in Sausalito, California, and has come to represent the kind of pared-down mid-century aesthetic that looks as elegant and timeless today as it did more than 65 years ago. The company still makes rustic, muted-colored tableware in the original Sausalito factory, and its customers are so emotionally invested in Heath that they submit personal stories about their experiences with the products on the company’s website. And though the brand produces humble items like coffee mugs and dinner plates, some Heath pieces have made such an impact on the art community that they can be found in museums like MOMA and LACMA. While Edith passed away in 2005, her iconic brand is in good hands—designers Catherine Bailey and Robin Petravic purchased the company in 2003, and are continuing her legacy of creating thoughtfully made “enduring objects.”

Bailey and Petravic first moved from San Francisco to Sausalito in 2002, looking for a slower-paced life and a closer connection to the natural world. Why Sausalito? “It was nice and clean, and the air smelled good,” says Bailey. “We had been living in the part of San Francisco and we’d go out to wash the side of the house, and it’d be covered with soot from the highway.” Unsurprisingly, both of them came from design backgrounds. “I was doing industrial design work for typical corporate clients, and sometimes taking that into the engineering phase,” says Bailey, who spent time as a footwear designer for Nike and also worked on tech products for clients like Motorola. “We were looking for something a little bit more fulfilling in our design work,” Petravic says, “where we had a stronger connection to the tangible element and the manufacturing process. When we worked together on the engineering side, we would create this whole plan and send it off to somebody, and they’d change it all. And you’d wonder why you bothered in the first place—somebody paid you for your work, and then somebody paid them to change it. That Heath was still manufacturing was what made it fascinating to us,” he explains. “As a designer, being able to close the loop on what you’re designing and what you’re making is what made it exciting.”

 

 

The two “disgruntled” designers were looking for a new project, says Bailey, “and we kind of stumbled upon Heath, because it was a fascinating building and we wanted to know what went on there.” “Not necessarily because, at that moment, we were thinking, ‘We should buy a pottery factory,’” laughs Petravic. Now they welcome admirers into their showrooms and studios to see where the clay is made, and how dishware is glazed and fired. But there’s not one “typical” Heath customer walking through those doors. “It ranges from the woman who got these 40 years ago on her wedding—and she’s completely nostalgic about the plates she’s had all those years—to her granddaughter who’s getting married, and her whole life is ahead of her,” says Bailey. “And her granddaughter just thinks it’s a beautiful, cool product that she appreciates for what it is today. We get a lot of customers from Japan, because I think they understand the beauty of the material and ceramics in general. But they also like that it represents this kind of American aesthetic.”

 

 

The long list of customer-submitted stories on the Heath website is a testament to the enduring mystique of the company and its products. “Cathy doesn’t believe me,” says Petravic, “but I swear someone came in one time and they told me about how they grew up off the grid with Heath dishes, and nothing but a potbelly stove in the house. And the dishes survived her raising three or four boys.” But the most common tale the couple hears is of Heath dishes being passed down to children, or even grandchildren. “Someone will come in with a story like, ‘I’m here because I just gave away my dishes to my daughter, who wanted them for years, and I want to buy myself a new set,’” Petravic says . “There’s a lot of pride in handing them down, because these kids have memories of these dishes they grew up with. That’s a very common thread, and I find it funny when someone wants to tell me a story like that, and I don’t let on that I’ve actually heard this story from someone else. They always think they’re the only ones, and they’re very excited about it.”

Aside from their work together, Cathy and Robin are also parents to a 9-year-old, Jasper, and two dogs “who are somewhat like children.” Working alongside a partner isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but the couple’s very happy about their arrangement. “I think there’s certain people who have an affinity for working with their partner,” says Petravic, “and we are definitely those people. We were sort of looking for that—a life partnership that’s also related to what you do every day. You learn how to work together, and then all the sudden you have kids, and you realize you actually didn’t know how to work together. You just thought you did. And then you have to figure it out again.” Says Bailey, “But we probably had it better than a lot of people. When we had a kid, we were like, ‘Oh, we have to divide up the labor—this is like work.’”

 

 

There could theoretically be anxiety associated with taking over the reins of such an established brand, but Bailey and Petravic say the company’s legacy was a help, not a hindrance. “We have this wonderful path drawn, to reference,” says Bailey. “It makes so many other parts of our job easy. There’s already this story—we don’t have to make it up, we don’t have to make it something that it isn’t. I think the past fits nicely in the past—we’re just drawing a line off that into the future, and we can go in different directions. I think the company needs to share some of the values and some of the aesthetics [of the past], but it can go somewhere that we set it, somewhere it hasn’t been. So it doesn’t feel like pressure; it feels like an opportunity and it feels like something to guide you.” Petravic agrees: “In a lot of ways, we were fortunate in that we got a great jumping-off point. For a company, that first part of figuring out ‘Who are we? What are we about?’ is always hard. And what we got was a nudge in a certain direction.”

Neither of the company’s current owners feels compelled to change the way Heath’s pieces are made or move the aesthetic away from Edith Heath’s original intention. “We like making and designing things that are hopefully classic in some way, that are rooted in the materials,” says Bailey. “It’s not like we’re thinking, ‘Oh, should we make plastic lids for these things?’ It’s not even something we’d want to do.” That’s probably due in large part to the couple’s design background, says Petravic. “We appreciate the same values that created Heath and had driven it for decades before we even owned the company: the ideas around craftsmanship, and respect for materials, and drawing on materials for inspiration,” he says. “All of those things are things we share. We’ve taken it in our own direction, but there’s been that consistency throughout its entire history.”

 

 

But what is it exactly that has made Heath so beloved for so many decades, across so many cultural lines? “I think the aesthetic—that kind of classic ‘California’ thing is something that people feel is unique, and unique to Heath,” says Bailey. “I also think the nature of the product is close to people’s hearts, especially given how you receive it and how long you have it. It’s a product you usually buy slowly over time, or you get it when you move into a new home. And it’s an important part of your life—you touch it every day, you hold it, you wash it, you eat your meals on it with people you love. All that adds to why the product feels really close to people. But it’s also about the fact that it hasn’t changed too much. It’s something people can rely on.”

 

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JEAN-MICHEL BASQUIAT IN VENICE

The call came one evening in November 1982. It was my friend and colleague Larry Gagosian telling me that Jean-Michel Basquiat was in Venice, painting for a new show and, more to the point, wanting to know if I would be interested in working with the artist to produce a special new work in silkscreen. At that time I owned a print and multiple publishing business in Venice called New City Editions.

I met with Jean-Michel for the first time that same evening and thus began an incomparable experience—one I was unlikely to repeat. I was seeing a rare talent at work, apart from the New York art world from which he usually drew his inspiration. I was taken aback by the unique vision and conviction of this young man of just 21.

Jean-Michel came to Los Angeles with the desire to produce a truly ambitious silkscreen print. Starting with a group of 16 original drawings, he asked me to first reverse their content through photography (everything depicted in black would become white and the white background would become black) and then fuse together the entire suite of now reversed images into a single image which would be silkscreened onto a very large 8 x 5 foot canvas. This work, which Basquiat titled “Tuxedo,” was the first of six silkscreen prints which I produced with the artist in 1982-83. With the exception of one other silkscreen produced in New York earlier in 1982, these are the only limited-edition prints he produced in his short lifetime.

Continuing Basquiat’s interest in the silkscreen process, my small print studio facilitated production of approximately 30 original paintings on canvas which the artist executed in Venice in 1984. In these breathtaking works, Basquiat seamlessly integrated painted, drawn and silkscreened images into some of his more complex, multifaceted paintings.

Tamra Davis filmed Jean-Michel working at New City Editions in Venice in 1983-84, and this footage became a central part of her now acclaimed documentary, The Radiant Child.

In Venice, Jean-Michel worked from the ground-floor gallery and studio space Larry had built below his home. There, he quickly commenced what was to be an extraordinary series of paintings. They were for a March ’83 show, his second at the Larry Gagosian Gallery in West Hollywood.

Jean-Michel usually worked from late afternoon until the following morning, and I would regularly show up at the studio after dinner, confining myself to a bed set up in a corner of the room. I was mesmerized by his self-contained focus, his intensity and fluidity. He seemed to make time disappear, and evenings would quickly pass into the next day’s dawn. Overnight, paintings would undergo a transformation. New, seemingly more complex imagery would appear, and other imagery and surfaces that had seemed so perfect would be painted over and eliminated.

As an example of Basquiat’s working practice, one late-night experience still remains fixed in my mind. Arriving at the studio one evening, I observed Jean-Michel standing before approximately eight newly gesso’d white canvases. I had already retreated to the bed in the corner when Jean-Michel turned to me and declared that “tonight I’m going to paint the history of contemporary painting in California.” He then proceeded to attack each of these blank canvases with passages of paint, calling forth the styles of many of the leading abstract California painters, including Richard Diebenkorn, Sam Francis, Chuck Arnoldi, Ed Moses and others. It was uncanny how this young New York artist could quickly and effortlessly capture the spirit of these considerably different pictorial sensibilities. As I was watching each painting evolve, I must have drifted off to sleep. I awoke several hours later at dawn. Jean-Michel was no longer in the studio. Virtually all of the references to California abstraction in the paintings he had been working on were no longer visible. Rather, each picture had been painted over, leaving only the smallest passage of paint referring to the California painters.

 

Jean-Michel Basquiat, “Fred,” 1983 Acrylic, oil stick, spray paint, and Xerox photocopy collage on canvas, 96 x 74 Collection Fred Hoffman, Santa Monica

 

When he returned to the studio the next night, he was now ready to turn each painting into a fully realized “Basquiat.”

The more I came to know him, the more I understood why Jean-Michel was drawn to work in Los Angeles. Here was a truly gifted young man who was quickly having to adapt to the increasingly complex demands of newfound success. Remarkably, only about 18 months after his work had appeared in two important New York group exhibitions—“The Times Square Show” in 1980 and “New York/New Wave” at P.S. 1 in Long Island City in 1981—he had become a victim of his triumphs. Although he certainly expected and sought out the public’s attention, he was finding it increasingly difficult to deliver to the ever-demanding, even usurious, art world.

 

Fred Hoffman and Jean-Michel Basquiat at New City Editions, Venice, California, 1983

 

Jean-Michel lived and worked at a furious pace. No one I knew could keep up with him. Although this served his incredible capacity to process the world around him, it did not serve his stability or physical well-being. In the removed environment of Venice, he seemed to find a security and solitude. Away from New York, this emergent talent was able to get on with his mission with significantly less distraction.

Los Angeles and environs also offered new source material and stimuli. While I was working with Jean-Michel on his silkscreen print editions, one day he experimented on an image containing references specific to his Venice experience. In this work, which was never released, the artist showed his fascination with Muscle Beach—things which he would not have encountered anywhere else. In this work Basquiat included the texts “How to Perform Strongman Tricks Without Strength,” “Barbells,” and “Two Hundred and Fifty Pounds.”

Several of the works in his second show at the Larry Gagosian Gallery referenced famous boxers, musicians and Hollywood films and the roles played in them by blacks. One painting, “Hollywood Africans,” produced in Venice, is most telling. It depicts the artist and two of his New York associates, Toxic and Rammellzee, essentially placing their black footprints into the history of Hollywood at Grauman’s Chinese Theater.

That Hollywood was a focus for Jean-Michel was driven home to me when I was asked to accompany him and Madonna to lunch at the commissary at 20th Century Fox studios. At the time, neither of these two future stars had received enough recognition to evoke any response from the sea of Hollywood talent. This lack of attention only made both even more determined that one day the focus would be on them. For me, it was a revelation: I was witnessing the determination and conviction of two clearly destined talents.

After his ’83 opening at the Larry Gagosian Gallery, Jean-Michel departed L.A. for a time. When he returned a few months later he wanted more privacy; and so I found him his own studio at the corner of Market Street and Speedway, a block from the Venice boardwalk. He worked there for about a year, through the first half of ’84, producing many important paintings.

Out the back door of the studio was a small patio, separated from the alley by a wooden slat fence. Early on I noted that parts of the fence were deteriorating and that the patio was not secure from the transients ever present around the boardwalk. After his usual routine of working all night, Jean-Michel stepped out onto his patio very early one morning, only to be startled by someone sleeping there beneath a blanket. He recounted the incident, and it was decided that, for safety’s sake, the fence should be removed. But rather than let the planks be thrown away, Jean-Michel wanted them brought inside. Within a day or two, many of the wood slats had been reassembled horizontally and attached to long vertical shafts of wood—a new form of picture support born directly from the Venice studio experience. The first wood-slat picture support was painted bright gold and became the background for the now acclaimed painting “Gold Griot,” depicting a looming and regally positioned head and torso. The discovery of a new means of presenting a painting had enabled the artist to push his work in yet another new and exciting direction. The Venice years were not only a prolific but pivotal period in Basquiat’s career.

 

 

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MUHAMMAD ALI

Every great person has a story of how they came to be. A moment when their purpose became clear and the journey began. For my father, it happened at the age of 12. One sunny afternoon his bicycle was stolen from a local fair in his hometown of Louisville, Kentucky.

“I was so upset. I had just gotten the bike for Christmas. I walked up and down the street shouting how I was going to find the person who took my bike and give him a good whoopin’,” my father remembers. “A policeman named Joe Martin [who trained boxers at a local gym] overheard me. He said that I better learn how to box before I went challenging anyone to fight.”

And so he did. Every day after school and on weekends, he was the first to enter the gym and the last to leave. “They never found my bike or the person who took it,” he said. With widening eyes, he flashes that old sharp look. “Sometimes I wonder if it was an angel.”

Everyone knows about the 18-year-old Olympic gold medalist who became the world’s greatest champion, winning the heavyweight title for the first of three times at the age of 22. With his remarkable confidence and dazzling speed, he danced around his opponents while rhyming and successfully predicting the rounds in which they would fall.

We all know about his religious conversion when he changed his name to Muhammad Ali and about the stand he took refusing to fight in the Vietnam War on religious and moral grounds. Before entering the induction room on the morning of April 28,1967, he was offered deals—told that he could perform boxing exhibitions and would never see the battlefield—but he refused to compromise his principles.

When the hour of truth arrived, and the name Cassius Marcellus Clay was called at the induction center, Muhammad Ali stood perfectly still. “As I stood there, something was happening to me. It was as if my blood was changing. I felt fear draining from my body and a rush of anger taking its place. Who were they to tell me to go to Asia, Africa, or anywhere else in the world and fight people who had never thrown a rock at me or America? Now I’m anxious for the lieutenant to call my name. I was looking straight into his eyes. ‘Hurry up!’ I said to myself. People in the room were watching in anticipation. ‘Cassius Clay—Army!’ he shouted. The room was silent. I didn’t step across the induction line. ‘Mr Cassius Clay,’ he began again, ‘please step forward and be inducted into the United States Army.’ Again I don’t move. ‘Cassius Clay—Army!’ he says another time. I could hear whispering circulating the room. ‘Cassius Clay—Army!’ he repeated, as though he expected me to make a last-minute change. I stood straight, unmoving.”

He knew there would be consequences, and he was ready to pay the price. When he walked out the door and stood on the federal steps of Houston, he walked into an exile that would eat up what boxing experts regard as “the best years of a fighter’s life.” He would be unjustly stripped of his heavyweight title, banned from boxing, fined thousands of dollars, sentenced to five years in prison, and have his passport revoked. He never wavered in his resolve, and on June 28, 1971, the Supreme Court unanimously overturned his conviction. And we all know about his return to glory, and the legendary fights that followed.

“They can take away the television cameras, the bright lights, the money, and ban you from the boxing ring,” an old man said to my father back home in Chicago, “but they cannot destroy your victory. You took a stand for yourself and the world and now you are the people’s champion.”

“It takes courage to be who you are,” my father says, in reflection. “When most of the world is going in one direction, it takes courage to walk against the crowd. A man who is not courageous enough to take risks in life will accomplish nothing. I’ve accomplished a lot because I took big gambles. I hated every minute of the training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.’”

“When he first came on the scene, it was like the world had been asleep in one eye,” says the boxer George Foreman, who lost his title to my father in Africa in 1974. “He opened the eye forever and we’ve never been the same.”

If you could borrow my eyes and see my father in the calm of his daily life, you would not mourn what he has lost. When we observe the source of true strength, we find that the power of a hand is best measured not by its weight but by the amount it can lift. My father’s vitality comes from a place deep within. It comes from his courage to fall and his will to rise. It comes from his awareness that every moment under the sun has a purpose and a time. If you could borrow his heart, you would not question what he has sacrificed, but rather pray for the happiness of his further journey on this earth and for the peace of his gentle soul.

The question that my siblings and I are asked most is, “What is it like to have Muhammad Ali as a father?” so I’ll do my best to share and put into words an answer: “It was an expensive price that I had to pay to be the most famous man on earth,” says Muhammad Ali.

 

Muhammad Ali - Humanity Magazine

 

 

 

By the time I was 4 years old I realized that my father did not belong to me, he belonged to the world. I can remember when I was a little girl, looking down from the top of the staircase at my father’s luggage gathered by the front door. He was preparing to leave for Deer Lake to train for the Larry Holmes fight in 1980. I raced down the steps, as though it was the end of the world. Shouting, “I want to go with you Daddy!” I leapt into his arms and hugged him with all my might. “Please take me with you Daddy!” When he softly told me, “You have to stay home, Hana,” I pushed him away crying. He then walked over to the corner of the room where I lay sobbing on the floor, picked me up and carried me back over to the sofa. He wiped my tears as I sat on his lap and explained, “Hana, I’m your daddy, but I am also Muhammad Ali, the Champion of the World. People all over the world look up to me. I inspire them. So I have to go to Deer Lake to train for a fight that will help me continue to be a champion. I’m not only your daddy, I’m also a ‘daddy’ to the world.” I jumped out of his arms again, sobbing down the hall, into the living room. My father followed me. “Hana, I have to go. Give me a kiss goodbye.” He picked me up. Arm’s crossed, I said, “You’re not my daddy. You’re Muhammad Ali.”

When people achieve great success, something in their lives has to suffer. With nine kids, from different relationships, living in four different states, he could not be present for us all. Dad had Laila and me with his third wife, Veronica Porche. He had Maryum, Jamillah, Rasheda, and Muhammad Jr. with his second wife, Balinda Boyd. And he had Miya and Khalilah with women he was never married to.

Like any family we’ve had ups and downs, sorrows and regrets, happy and unpleasant memories. The difference is we had to share our father with the world. In spite of his busy schedule, all the traveling and having to divide his attention between all of his children, he found a way to make each of us feel loved and cherished.

As my sister Miya remembers, “My father was never married to my mother. So I didn’t grow up living under the same roof with him. But he called me regularly and flew me to Los Angeles, where he brought all of my siblings together for the summers. Since we lived in different states, he didn’t spend a lot of time in my neighborhood or take me to school. After a while, the kids began teasing me, saying that they didn’t believe that Muhammad Ali was really my dad because I didn’t look like him and they never saw us together. Being fair-skinned with fine light hair didn’t help. One day, when I was 8 years old, I called my dad in tears about the teasing. The next day he flew into town and walked me up and down the street so everyone could see us together. He took me to school the next morning, and they called an assembly. When all the students were in the auditorium, he had me point out the kids that had been teasing me. One at a time they walked up to the stage, he shook their hands and told each of them that he was my daddy. That meant more to me than words can explain.”

The Muhammad Ali we knew really wasn’t so different from the one the public saw. As my sister Laila says, “He was and still is a humble man—all of the bragging and boasting was mainly to promote fights and inspire people. What I remember most growing up is how my father’s office door was always open. He would be sitting at his desk, surrounded by friends, fans, hangers-on, etc. talking on the phone or entertaining. I remember Hana and me playing every evening in his den. No matter what he was doing or who was visiting, he would let us play on the floor in front of the fireplace making all the noise we wanted. Sometimes he would sneak out a tape recorder and tape our conversations. Later he would play them back to us explaining how, when we were adults, we would appreciate them. He was right. My dad has always been aware of the value of time. He is an amazing human being that enjoys the simple pleasures of life and knows how to make ordinary moments feel extraordinary. It’s one of his many gifts.”

While most people recognize my father as Muhammad Ali the fighter, in contrast he is really just a sweet, humble, gentle man. Although his voice and movement are not as sharp as they once were, he has a clear mind and pure heart. No matter where he is, his intentions are always the same: to help others.

My dad is truly happiest making people smile. Sometimes the lives he touched were further from home, but he was no less effective. In 1985, he flew to Lebanon in an attempt to secure the release of four hostages. Then in 1990, he flew to Iraq and successfully negotiated the release of 15 American hostages. Stories like these are almost commonplace; he really wanted to make a difference.

Today we are in greater need of heroes like him, especially in a sports culture where athletes seem to be chasing fame merely for the pleasure of making money or breaking records. There is little awareness of the responsibilities that accompany it. For over 50 years, my father has exemplified accountability of fame.

We all admire our own great person and each of us has our own understanding of him or her. My great person is my dad. He has an inner light that transcends his physical body and enables him to reach the furthest corners of the world. He has gentleness in his touch that sets him apart from most. He has a deep spiritual forbearance. He has something open in his heart that can communicate a feeling without employing words, and he enables people to recognize the greatness within them. Most importantly, he is a loving father and an ambassador of peace, hope and good will.

His legacy truly lies beyond his victories in the ring and athletic accomplishments. It encompasses the spirit and sense of possibility that he has inspired in others. The genuineness of his heart, the warmth of his smile, the very gift of himself—his charisma, humanity, and conviction have gained him respect and love from all corners of the globe. Millions of words have been written about him and there are more books that examine the complexity of his character than any other human being.

Today he stands as a beacon of light and hope. He shines through troubled times. Bearing a message of peace and tolerance, the voice of his silence has reached further than his infamous ringside shouts ever did. He is a composite of all the great qualities that can be found in the human spirit. “I’ve lived the life of a thousand men,” he tells me, wide-eyed. “And you’ve loved a thousand times stronger!” I say back to him.

 

 

Not too long ago I asked him what he thought about the future of the world. He had this to say: “I can’t predict the future of the world, I’m not that great, but I think the children are going to have to be the ones to change the world. The younger generation does not really know that much about the history of America. They don’t look at each other and see color or religion; they just take each other on face value, for who they are. I think our children can turn things around if they take our mistakes, progress by them and change. It may take another generation or two before a lot of our problems are solved, but it’s going to have to start natural, with the children.” He paused before answering my second question, about what advice he has to offer up and coming athletes. “No matter how famous we get, no matter how wealthy we become, it is only the heart that makes us great or small. Stand up for each other. Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves and always be true to yourself. When you reach the mountaintop try not to look down at anyone and remember the responsibility that comes with fame. There will be little boys and girls looking up to you—lead them well.”

As long as I can remember, people have told me stories about how my father has changed their lives. They found the courage to face their fear, stand by their convictions, follow their dreams, or simply love themselves. He made them believe that they could do anything and convinced them that they were The Greatest too. The courage and confidence that he inspired in people around the world strengthened the will of a nation as they fought for their human rights. My father passed that inspiration on to his children and grandchildren. With the grace in which he triumphed over difficult times, he refined the standard of a hero and blazed a trail for his family and future generations to follow.

 

 

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ISAMAYA FFRENCH

THE LONDON-BASED MAKEUP ARTIST ISAMAYA FFRENCH IS MAKING WAVES IN THE FASHION WORLD WITH HER UNEXPECTED APPROACH AND REFRESHING ATTITUDE.

As one of the most in-demand makeup artists in the industry, Isamaya Ffrench has the kind of schedule that would make even the most tireless workaholic feel a little weary. The past few weeks have seen London-based Ffrench travel to Morocco, Switzerland, Capri and Paris, juggling work for brands including Chloé and Nike alongside editorials for POP, Vogue Italia, V Magazine and i-D, where she also works as the magazine’s beauty editor. Oh, and on top of all this, she’s just moved house. No wonder it took us four failed attempts before we could finally meet up.

Given this frantic pace you might expect to meet someone who’s tired, perhaps a little grumpy, even. On the contrary, opening the door to her airy East London house, Isamaya Ffrench radiates a warm energy, her almost indecently pouty lips breaking out into a wide smile. With her standing barefoot in her kitchen making tea, it feels more like sitting down to a girlie gossip than an interview.

Known for her confident, colorful, creative makeup, it’s ironic to see that Ffrench herself is almost barefaced. “Chefs eat fast food,” she laughs. “If it’s for someone else I enjoy it, but for myself, I’m not really interested.”

 

Ismaya Ffrench - Humanity Magazine

 

She might be a girl in serious demand, but Isamaya Ffrench’s success has something of a serendipitous quality to it. Her current career is more of a happy accident than the result of a ruthlessly executed master plan. Raised in Cambridge, she moved to London aged 18 to study 3D Design at Chelsea College of Arts, followed by a degree in Product and Industrial Design at Central Saint Martins. During this time she began a weekend job face painting at children’s parties “because I didn’t want to do waitressing!” What started as a way to make a bit of extra money really got her creative juices flowing. “It was a bit like a training process,” she explains. “If I had enough time I’d go really overboard. Children think really creatively and it’s really fun to work with that.” Her lightbulb moment came when a friend asked her to paint his girlfriend’s face like a tiger. “I thought, ‘This is working, there’s something in this.’ At that moment I realized that this was an area that hadn’t been really well explored.”

 

Isamaya Ffrench - Humanity Magazine

 

Ffrench began to be booked for professional makeup jobs, her career propelled by word-of-mouth recommendations. Her first fashion shoot was with artist Matthew Stone for i-D, where she body-painted naked men to transform them into gods. Although she might be best known for some of her more theatrical work, Ffrench challenges the idea of being pigeonholed in this way. Her work often has a 3D quality—an echo back to those student days—but her aesthetic is versatile. “I don’t really have a set style, which at first I was afraid of but I really like now. I feel there’s more progression if you don’t. Sometimes you have to minimize yourself for the benefit of the bigger picture. If you want to make good work you have to put your own ego aside.”

What Ffrench does is about so much more than making someone look pretty; without straying into potentially sanctimonious territory she has found makeup gives her a platform for exploring issues of identity and gender. “I’m interested in the idea of trying to project the internal externally,” she muses. “I always go back to this idea of identity, maybe not so much a comment as an exploration. Makeup changes the face—if you put a mask on it, distort it, it not only makes the viewer question what they’re looking at and who they’re looking at, but also question themselves in response to that.” In today’s selfie-obsessed society these issues are more pertinent than ever. Ffrench notes how the digital world gives people a platform for “self-curation, self-projection.”

 

Isamaya Ffrench - Humanity Magazine

 

In an industry as oversaturated as fashion and beauty, it takes more than just talent to succeed. To have the kind of success that Ffrench has had by the age of just 25 is almost unheard of. Her success, she thinks, is down not just to hard work and vision but also her ability not to take herself too seriously. “I hope I can help create a happy environment [on set] and that people can trust me,” she says, adding that being able to have a laugh is her secret to staying sane in what can often be a crazy business. “I try as much as possible to have an element of some sort of humor in my work,” she says. “People are so nuts, if you can’t laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, you’re going to have a really hard time.” With that warm energy and infectious, conspiratorial giggle it’s not hard to see why Isamaya Ffrench thrives in a collaborative environment—she must be a dream to work with.

Isamaya Ffrench - Humanity Magazine

 

Part of the reason Isamaya Ffrench carries herself so lightly is that her interests range way beyond makeup. “I’m obsessed with other things; makeup just happens to be the outlet for it,” she says. A creative polymath, Ffrench also designs window displays and dances with the Theo Adams Company, a collective of dancers, singers and actors. Certainly she has that earthy quality of a tomboy, and you can imagine she’d be happier running around climbing trees than talking lipstick. Indeed, nature is something of a recurring interest to Ffrench. “I got really heavily into mycology [the study of mushrooms] and at one point managed to get an interview with the head of mycology at the Royal Botanical Society at Kew Gardens.” Would this have been her back-up career? “100%” she laughs.

The way things are going, however, that mycology career will have to stay on the backburner a little longer. Her star might continue to rise but for now the refreshingly grounded Ffrench is happy to just go with the flow. The adventure must be fun? “Definitely! It’s really colorful and I don’t know where it’s all going, which is interesting. Of course there’s sacrifice but I think if you’re creative it doesn’t matter what you’re doing, so long as it’s creative.”

Isamaya Ffrench - Humanity Magazine

 

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DANNY WAY

A SKATEBOARDING LEGEND TAKES PAUSE TO DISCUSS HAWAIIAN MICROCLIMATES, TIMELESS SHOE DESIGN AND BUILDING SKATE PARKS FOR THE COMMUNITY.

Danny Way has dominated professional skateboarding for the last 25 years and has still found time to start successful companies and perform unbelievable feats of daring. In 1988, Way went pro at the age of 14. In 1993, he was a crucial part of the founding team of DC Shoes, a company that helped take skate shoes to the masses through the last two decades. Just a year later, in 1994, the death of a close friend left Way in charge of Plan B, a skateboard deck and accessory maker, which he still heads. Picking up numerous X Games gold medals and championships along the way, Way also became known for his outlandish stunts. In 2005, he performed the unique and seemingly impossible trick of ollie-ing over the Great Wall of China.

Today, Way is focusing more on what he calls “giving back.” He has devoted a lot of resources to designing, supporting and fund-raising for a series of public skate parks in Kauai over the last six years. His enthusiasm for this project is obvious, and for anyone who knows the amazing skate parks that Way has been involved with in the past, there are high expectations and a lot of anticipation for the forthcoming projects.

 

Danny Way - Humanity Magazine

 

Thanks for taking the time to talk today. How’s Kauai?    

Kauai is good, man. Well, it’s raining right now, but other than that, it’s been good.

That gets right down to a question I wanted to ask. You are designing and building a couple of huge skate parks/ ramps in Kauai, which is a super wet environment—how is that going?

Off and on throughout the day it’s sunny and it rains, sunny and it rains, so many times. And due to it being so warm, the water evaporates on the concrete so fast that the rails and surface of the ramp literally take 10 to 15 minutes to dry out. Let’s just say this: it’s a non-issue.

So where are you at with the skate parks?

We’re at a place where we have complete approval from the mayor, the parks and recreation department and the community for the first location in Hanapepe on the west side of Kauai. In addition to the approvals and support, we’ve raised some money, and the county has some money as well. We think the first part will be under construction and breaking ground hopefully by the end of summer, and completed by the end of the year. And then the plan is to go on to build four more parks over the next few years. So, it’s an ongoing project. The first one will obviously be the cornerstone to getting the rest of them built. We just want to get this first one done so we have a benchmark of accomplishment, and then we’ll move on.

 

Danny Way - Humanity Magazine

 

Speaking of benchmarks of accomplishment, I think you’ve been considered the best skateboarder in the world for quite some time, right?

Oh man, that’s a big, big statement, but yeah, I appreciate that.

I recall your pro-model shoe popping on my radar around 1995. Was that your first pro model?

DC launched with my shoe and Colin McKay’s shoe, mine being the first pro model, and those were the only two shoes we had for a while. Of course, Colin and I are the founders of DC, so that probably ties in somehow more than just being a team rider or whatever.

That shoe was so good. I still see it around, worn by people who know.

Yeah, well we re-issued that shoe, like two years ago now, and it did really, really well. Apart from a few streamlining touches and a few tweaks that you can’t even really see, it was basically the same. It’s funny because it’s been like almost over 20 years and people are still hyped on it, you know?

Looking back over a pretty amazing career, what are the things you’re most proud of?

I think over the course of my career, I’m most proud of being able to grow as a person so that I’m able to use what I’ve been given in a responsible way. I started skating pro when I was 14 and I’m 39 now, so for the last 25 years I’ve been building relationships, and now I’m to the point where I can use those connections for the good of others. As I’m getting toward the end of my career, it’s really important for me to give back. And I’m proud that people give me the time of day and want to hear what I have to say. I’m proud to be talking to you today.

 

Danny Way - Humanity Magazine

 

On the opposite note, what was your lowest point in 25 years of being a pro skateboarder?

I would say that back in the early 1990s a couple of events happened simultaneously that were really hard for me to deal with: my friend and mentor at the time, Mike Ternasky, the founder of the skateboard company I rode for at the time and still own today, was killed in a car accident. Then, shortly after that, I had a bad neck injury where I had pretty bad neurological problems and was bedridden for over a year; that time was pretty dark for me. I have a lot of residual effects from that injury still today, but it gave me a lot of perspective on my body. I think some things happen for a reason, as hard as they are to deal with. I have to look at things as a blessing.

As a kid I grew up in a pretty volatile, traumatizing situation, you know, a lot of domestic violence and drugs, so I was in a pretty dark place, but nothing like when I had that injury when I had everything I knew taken away from me. I went from being on top of the world to getting it all taken away and getting left in a dark place with no answers. There were no phone calls and no information on how long it would take to heal and why this or that was happening. So, anyway, that was the worst time.

 

Danny Way - Humanity Magazine

 

Where did it happen?

I was surfing in Carlsbad, at Tamarack. It was a perfect, sunny, mellow day. Hard to believe something like that could happen on such a mellow, small day.

In a career built on pushing the limits, what’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken, in business, skating, whatever?

The biggest risk… Well, shit, I’ve done a lot of “stupid” things and lot of things I didn’t see the consequences of. I guess the one story that comes to mind is when we were traveling through Europe on trains when I was a lot younger, going from country to country competing in events and contests. All my friends would end up on the same train, and we would get bored on all-night trains, and we would go out and transfer from car to car on the outside of the train, you know, like on the side at night. It sounds pretty stupid, and it is. I watched my friend do it, and then I did it. As I came back in the train, we entered a tunnel, and I literally felt the wall graze my back. I got in and was looking out the window at a cement wall like 6 inches outside the glass. If I would have waited literally a few seconds… well.

 

Danny Way - Humanity Magazine

 

What’s one thing skating taught you?

The ability to appreciate what I’ve been given in my life.

What’s one thing that skating made it harder for you to learn?

To follow the rules.

 

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