Author: Stephanie Janssen

MARTHA RADDATZ

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

KATE BOSWORTH: What makes you curious?

MARTHA RADDATZ: Almost everything. Truly. Curiosity is at the core of my personality and my job. Disciplined curiosity. But most of all I am intrigued by secrets. Everybody has them.

KB: What is important to you?

MR: Family, of course. But also kindness, energy and determination.

KB: How did you arrive here?

MR: The scenic route. Many wrong turns. Many spectacular views along the way. I just keep it in drive.

KB: Did you have a mentor?

MR: There were not a lot of women in positions of power or influence around me when I first started my career. There were men who were very helpful, but not all of them with the purest of motives. When I made it to the network, Diane Sawyer and Robin Roberts were both extremely welcoming and generous with their time. My first few years at ABC News were not and they championed me every step of the way.

KB: What is it about conflict that intrigues you?

MR: It is the step when all else has failed. It is when human beings have to lay it all on the line. The darkest hearts are revealed, and the purest courage.

KB: Conflict has led you to war time—what is that experience like, so close to life and death?

MR: It is intimate and gritty. There are few words spoken at the time. A shared jolt. You just know.

KB: Is there anything that haunts you?

MR: There is so much. From famine-ravaged mothers chasing our truck in Ethiopia begging us to take their starving babies to a combat support hospital in Baghdad where limbs and lives were lost—those memories will always be with me. They are part of who I am and have made me a better person and a better reporter.

KB: If you could have a spirited conversation with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?

MR: There are 125 stars carved into the Memorial Wall at CIA Headquarters. No names. It’s classified. All died without the rest of the world knowing what they did and how they sacrificed.

KB: What inspires you to take on a story? Is there a spark or a lightbulb moment?

MR: It all comes back to people. How they got to where they are, no matter what the circumstances. That can be war or a city council meeting. What motivates them, how do they survive? I know that when I started reporting on the 2004 Sadr City battle, the lightbulb went off when I interviewed Staff Sergeant Robert Miltenberger. A soldier who you would think was the toughest guy around broke down and cried. I had never seen a soldier cry. And had never seen such emotional pain from battle. I have been clawing at his big, sore heart to find out more ever since that. I consider him a dear friend.

KB: Do you ever think of consequences when breaking a story?

MR: Absolutely. I think every reporter should. It helps you realize the enormity of your responsibility.

KB: What made you decide to be involved in journalism?

MR: I have always been a big reader, and nothing has influenced me more—I think reading saved me. I was obsessed with a few female authors, among them Louise Erdrich, Joan Didion, Nora Ephron, Mona Simpson and a woman who came from my hometown, Terry Tempest Williams. (I also thought that was about the coolest name on the planet.) I am a huge Wallace Stegner fan as well. I was (and still am) dazzled by their brains, their depth and their cool. As for journalism, I never really decided on what I wanted to do (thus the scenic route I mentioned before!). I fell into it and as with reading, I realized I learned something every day.

KB: What gets you up in the morning?

MR: A new day. A new opportunity. I rarely sleep late because I am afraid I will miss something.

KB: What inspires you, personally and/or professionally?

MR: Creativity. Courage. Strength. Danger. Depth. Surprise. Unanswered questions. Anything outside of “conventional wisdom.”

KB: Is there a person or event that impacted who you are today?

MR: My life is a blender of events and people who influenced me both negatively and positively. Number one in the negative column is bitterness. I have seen it so often. It is destructive and unattractive. I will never be bitter. And the list of positive influences—creative, vibrant souls who contribute in some way every day is a powerful motivator to me.

KB: How much doubt versus faith do you use in a percentage of a day?

MR: I hadn’t contemplated before how narrow the line between them. But I easily come down on the side of faith over doubt. It is a more optimistic way to live. And I consider myself an optimist.

KB: How do you feel being one of the leaders in journalism?

MR: I don’t see myself that way, but I know others do. I think about that a lot. Especially when it comes to young women. I am deeply flattered when young women say they look up to me. It is also a profound responsibility. I want to do right by them.

KB: What questions do you ask yourself that you would never ask anyone else?

MR: Oh yes, but they are so personally critical they would not apply to others. Nor would I say them out loud.

KB: Is there a failure that later became a success or vice versa?

MR: As a very young reporter I got something wrong on the air. There was no one else who challenged me or questioned how I had gotten the information, and there were no consequences. I really had no idea what I was doing. But I knew later that I had gotten it wrong and I figured out how it happened and learned an important lesson.

KB: Do you have fear?

MR: Oh yes, all kinds of fears. We all do. The key is managing and overcoming your fears. In fact, being “fearless” is not a good thing. In the military there is a term for that, a NAFOD—which means “no apparent fear of death.” The military does not want those people. They will get you hurt.

KB: What words do you have for anyone aspiring to be a journalist?

MR: It is not about you. It has to be a passion to learn about the world, to learn about others and tell their stories. And find your soul. The best journalists have a soul. It is pure bullshit to think journalists should somehow not “feel.”

KB: If there was a headline for your life, what would it be?

MR: I would hope it would say I wasn’t ordinary. And that I am grateful to have seen crevices of the world that few will see, and met extraordinary people.

KB: You’ve traveled around the world numerous times and seen war up close and personal. You have moderated presidential debates, revealed groundbreaking stories, and you live in the nation’s capital, asking the toughest, most sincere questions—now I have one for you: What’s going on?

MR: Oh man, that is a tough one. It is right up there with “What is the meaning of life?” One day I think I know what is going on and the next I have no idea. No matter how much I have done and how much I have seen, I am surprised almost every day by the world’s complexity—the joy some people bring to the planet and the hatred and evil in which others seem to delight. Perhaps the answer is “None of us really know.”

KB: What has been a great accomplishment for you?

MR: Personally it is raising two children who are happy, kind and define their own success. Professionally, there was no greater challenge than doing the general election debates. I have explained to people it is like studying for the SATs and taking them in front of 60 million people. But the project that makes me the proudest is the Nat Geo miniseries based on my book The Long Road Home. The amount of talent poured into that project (YOU Kate!) was breathtaking. The best part of the project is knowing that for many of those involved in the real-life battle, the mini series was healing. That gives me great comfort and pride. I know I will have lifelong, meaningful friendships because of that project. It was life changing.

KB: What goals would you like to accomplish in the future?

MR: To be better at everything I do. I know my weaknesses and I want to improve. And writing books can be a miserable yet rewarding experience. Despite the misery, I want to write another book.

KB: Would you run for president?

MR: Ha! Would not even consider it, nor would anyone in their right mind want me to.

KB: What does a Citizen of Humanity mean to you?

MR: It starts with empathy. We are hand in hand even though oceans apart. We live better, richer lives if we work together for the good of all.

—

 

COURTENEY MONROE

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

KATE BOSWORTH: If you are given a photograph with a lot of history and it is significant to many people and it’s yours to frame, how would you frame it? IE: metal, wood, floating, simply floating between plexiglass? Or other?

COURTENEY MONROE: I would frame it floating simply between plexiglass so nothing would distract from its beauty and significance.

KB: National Geographic’s yellow borders are an iconic frame. How do you respect the restraint while also expanding them?

CM: That question actually taps into everything we are focused on at National Geographic. We are a revered brand worldwide, but we also want to be a fiercely relevant. And that can sometimes be a tricky balance. But being pioneering and visionary have long been hallmarks of the National Geographic brand. So, we are remaining true to our DNA and pushing creative boundaries in order to break through and ensure we are as relevant and vital now as we were at our inception.

KB: Coming from HBO, what was it about Nat Geo that inspired you?

CM: HBO and National Geographic actually have a lot more in common than one might think – both are incredibly strong, iconic brands.  I felt—and still do—incredibly fortunate to have the opportunity to work on yet another brand known for quality and distinctiveness.

KB: How do you find creativity within such iconic borders?

CM: I take inspiration from the long legacy of creative excellence at National Geographic. The talent we are fortunate enough to interact with every day—explorers, photographers, filmmakers, scientists-is nothing short of awe inspiring.

KB: What initially attracted you to the entertainment industry?

CM: I have always loved surrounding myself with creative, inspiring people – it is what drives me.

KB: How did you arrive here?

CM: Hard work and a nice dose of good luck.

KB: Is there a person or an event that had a major impact on where you are today?

CM: Peter Rice, who believed in me and gave me the opportunity of a lifetime to run and transform the National Geographic Television business.

KB: What excites you?

CM: New challenges, aiming high and getting outside of my comfort zone.

KB: Do you consider yourself a rebel?

CM: I wish, but no.

KB: Between the dream and the goal, what is your discipline to achieve them?

CM: Keep your eye on the prize and surround yourself with exceptional people.

KB: What is your personal ritual/routine in the morning or throughout the day that translates into your daily business routine?

CM: Wake up and look at my emails and then proceed to do so all day long. Not something I am proud of or recommend to anyone!

KB: What evaluations do you make before making a permanent decision?

CM: What impact will it have on my family.

KB: How do you decide to collaborate with someone? Are there essential qualities that are critical for you?

CM: One simple rule: No assholes allowed!

KB: What is the collaboration process like with you?

CM: My hope is that it is fun, inspiring, and respectful.

KB: How much doubt versus faith do you use in a percentage of a day?

CM: Faith all day, sometimes doubt at night.

KB: Do you have fear? How do you move through it?

CM: Not living up to people’s expectations of me. I move through it by doing the only thing I know how to do—which is to be my most authentic self.

KB: How do you feel being one of the leaders in television?

CM: Incredibly fortunate.

KB: What are you most proud of?

CM: My two greatest accomplishments without question are my children, Miles and Lola.

KB: What goals would you like to accomplish in the future?

CM: Transforming National Geographic into the very best version it can be, and living up to my personal full potential.

KB: So, to go back to the constraints of a border: You have six words to explain your life. What are they?

CM: Family, Love, Ambition, Creativity, Laughter, Happiness.

KB: What does a Citizen of Humanity mean to you?

CM: Somebody who believes in and works toward something greater than oneself.

—

WE ARE HERE BECAUSE WE ARE STRONG

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

“IT WAS ALL VERY QUICK. I HEARD VERY LOUD SHOOTING. MY HUSBAND WAS AWAY WORKING. I WAS CONFUSED AND TERRIFIED SO I RAN WITH NOTHING BUT MY BABY IN MY ARMS. WHEN WE ESCAPED TO THE BUSH IT WAS AS IF MY BABY KNEW OUR LIVES DEPENDED ON IT BECAUSE SHE NEVER ONCE CRIED. I HAD NO MILK TO GIVE HER BUT SHE NEVER CRIED.” —A YOUNG CONGOLESE WOMAN ON ARRIVING AT THE UNHCR RECEPTION CENTER IN ANGOLA

“REFUGEES WERE ARRIVING IN TERRIBLE CONDITION, SOME WITH MACHETE INJURIES, MANY HUNGRY, EXHAUSTED AND TRAUMATIZED.” —PHILIPPA CANDLER, REPRESENTATIVE, UNHCR ANGOLA

“VICTIMS ARE THOSE WHO WERE UNABLE TO ESCAPE AND DIED IN THIS ATROCIOUS CONFLICT. REFUGEES ARE SURVIVORS. THEY LOST ALL BUT THEIR LIVES AND THEIR DIGNITY. WE [UNHCR] ARE HERE TO PULL THEM BACK UP AND HELP THEM RECOMMENCE. REFUGEE WOMEN MIRROR THAT INCREDIBLE STRENGTH BETTER THAN MOST. THEIR ABILITY TO ADJUST, KEEP THE FAMILY TOGETHER AND COPE WITH ADVERSITY WITH A SMILE STRIKES ME EVERY TIME. THEY ARE NOT MADE OF STEEL; THEY ARE HUMAN BEINGS MADE OF ALL-HEARTED MUSCLE.” —MARGARIDA LOUREIRO, UNHCR EXTERNAL RELATIONS OFFICER, ANGOLA

GILI NTUMBA, FROM KAMAKO

In modern conflict, it is often women who carry the greatest burden. Wars no longer have front lines. Civilians are increasingly targeted. Rape and sexual violence continue to be used as weapons of war, and when forced to flee homes, it is women who take charge to hold families together and support children.

The viciousness against women was particularly brutal in the recent outbreak of violence that began in March 2017 in the Kasai region of Democratic Republic of the Congo. It triggered the internal displacement of some 1.4 million persons and the flight of over 34,000 refugees into Lunda Norte Province in northeast Angola. The newly arrived reported widespread violence, mass killings, mutilations, burning of property, destruction of villages, schools and churches and human rights abuses, as well as food shortage and the lack of access to basic services and goods.

Most specifically the refugees arriving in Angola spoke of government forces and militias deliberately targeting women in some of the worst gender-based violence the region has seen. As families fled across the border to neighboring Angola, the medical staff that received them were shocked by the stories and medical condition of many of the women and girls arriving.

Many of the Congolese refugees who arrived in Angola have been relocated to the UNHCR settlement of Lóvua. Currently there are over 9,000 Congolese refugees there, but the settlement has a capacity of 30,000. In Lóvua, 75% of the Congolese living there are women and children. With men often missing, dead or unable to work, it is the women who have to try and rebuild shattered lives and support families.

When I visited the settlement, I was immediately drawn to join three women who sat outside their tent: Rose (who would soon become Aunty Rose to me), her sister Mimi and Bernardette. We sat all day telling stories, laughing and sharing food.

Together we decided to do a series of portraits of just the women, for them to tell the stories. When I returned the next day, the scene was more like a party. No children or men were allowed; food was prepared, new batteries bought for the radio. We danced, we ate and we made portraits. It was truly the most memorable photo shoot of my life, in many ways a celebration, a celebration of life.

Resilience is a word used too easily, but with Aunty Rose and Mimi, and later all the women I met in the camp, I found its true meaning. The women I got to know and visited each day were full of life and joy despite all they had endured, and all radiated a deep strength that rooted their whole families.

Though I am also aware that we must be careful not to romanticize resilience. By its nature, resilience is a necessity born of suffering. It is not a virtue one aspires to, because its journey is hardship and pain. So whilst I admired the strength and resilience of the women I met, it was impossible not to be impacted by the terrible violence that they had witnessed and suffered on that journey. For some, those experiences were still too raw and violent for them to cope with, which is reflected in their words and the eyes of the portraits.

These portraits show the strength of women. But they are also a reminder of the terrible gender-based violence, rape and sexual abuse of women in conflicts around the world.

On the first day, sitting with Rose, Mimi and Bernardette, I asked them how they had endured and survived.

“That’s simple,” was the reply. “We are here because we are strong.”

COCO MAWA, 35, FROM KAMAKO

“Life in the camp is not easy. It is the woman who works, who cooks, who looks after the children. Sometimes when I go into the woods to gather leaves to cook with, I dream of my past life.”

ROSE LUSANDA, 46, FROM KAMAKO

“A woman is a helper. We carry the strength. The women hold the community together,” explains Rose, or Aunty Rose, as she is known. She is in many ways the matriarch of the group. “In the markets, they would charge us more because we were Luba. They would say ‘kill all the Lubas.’ Then when the soldiers came, we escaped. They were killing everybody. Threatening the people, raping our daughters. They were forcing fathers to sleep with their daughters, and if the men refused, they were shot. Being a woman we were stripped of our strength by their threats. Kabila made us suffer.”  Then Rose pauses and looks at me as she raises her finger. “But we cannot be weak. We escaped the war. No other human will give you that strength. I had that strength inside of me. I had the courage to do whatever has to be done. Sometimes I say to my daughter, now we are here [in the camp]. I tell her to feel the courage. To find the calm, be calm, stay calm.”

MIMI MISENGA, 45, FROM KAMAKO

“Sometimes I am very sad at all we have lost. Other times we let it go, we have our lives. They killed my uncle, his sons. We couldn’t even bury them. It was too much. My neighbor, they made him rape his daughter. Then the troops raped the daughters in front of the family. I was so afraid for my children. We escaped barefoot into the bush and then found a way to escape. I had nothing. Then I looked at my children. They gave me strength. I am never tired. I am so strong. My body is always moving, ready to work, even when I sleep! Honestly, I don’t know where that strength comes from. I am never tired. I say to my daughters, ‘Stay calm, find a good husband and follow my example. Follow my strength.’ ”

CARINE ROLENGA, 20, FROM KAMAKO

“When we heard gunshots in the village we knew it was time to leave. As a woman I felt particularly under threat. At night they would take the men and rape the women. In truth I don’t understand why people would do this. It’s beyond me.”

MUZI KINGAMBO, 26, FROM KAMAKO

“It is not easy. I suffer here. I have many pains in my back, my bladder—pains women shouldn’t have. In Congo I lived with my husband. I want that life again.”

THÉRESE MANDAKA, 19, FROM KAMAKO

“Here we suffer a lot. For us women, we were particular targets. The biggest suffering was kept for us. When the soldiers came, I was separated from my husband. He’d gone to look for work; I was home and sick. I was pregnant. But my strength comes from my home. Even though I was sick, I knew I would have to escape. I thought they would kill the baby inside me—that’s where I found my strength, nobody else but me. “Now here in the camp I am a mother, so I must be strong.” Thérese pauses and gathers herself. She has not seen her husband since she fled to Angola. He hasn’t seen their child, Munduko, who’s now 4 months old. “I just want us to be together again.”

 

ANI TCHEBA, 19, FROM KAMAKO

“We left our village in Congo on a Monday morning at 6 a.m. I remember I had no strength. I was heavily pregnant. It had been a difficult pregnancy and I was so worried I’d lose the baby. My husband pulled me. As a refugee it is harder as a woman, as we have the responsibility for food and the children. But here the women have given me inspiration. We share food. When I am missing something they give it to me and vice versa. We help each other with the hardships. We are stronger together.”

GERMAINE ALONDE, 25, FROM KAMAKO

“We had good land at home, a good life. Then the militias and the armies came. They took everything. They killed my older brother. It was terrible. We saw so much blood, and each time my heart would stop. I couldn’t sleep. Then one day they came near to our home to start their killing and we all fled. We were terrified; everyone was running. We knew what they would do. My oldest daughter, Therese [who was 7], took my baby Helene [who was just 2 years old] whilst I ran back to the home to gather what I could and get the other children. At the border everybody was pushing and shoving. It was chaos. I couldn’t see Therese; we were all separated. And in that chaos she dropped the baby. We lost her. It was the worst moment, but I couldn’t be angry with Therese. How could I be? My oldest child is just a child. It wasn’t her fault. For two weeks we thought Helene was lost. Then one day in the camp my neighbor came up to me and said she’d seen my baby. I couldn’t believe her! But she had-—she’d been walking past a center for unaccompanied children and she’d seen Helene! We went straight away and were reunited. There was so much joy.”

SYLVIE KAPENGA, 26, FROM TCHISSENGUE

“Being a woman and a man is the same. They were killing us all the same. Where we were we caught between two sides. Everybody wanted us to die. I have four children, two girls and two boys. It’s tough here—little food, no clothes, just what we have. As a woman, I am the one that works. To be honest, I am not that strong. I lost everything. I am not sure how to carry on.”

BERNADETTE TCHANDA, 42, FROM KAMAKO

“I ran from Kabila’s war [Joseph Kabila, president of DR Congo]. We saw the troops come. They killed many people. They pointed a gun at my husband, but we managed to escape with our two children. As a woman I was particularly afraid. The sounds of weapons, the sound of death. I was afraid. The troops would rape, they would kill women. This happened to my friends. I feel protected here, in the camp. In the past, my husband would beat me, but not here, they have laws and he is scared. I have a lot of joy…” At this point Bernardette breaks from the interview and begins to dance. “I get a lot of strength when I dance. Women get strength from dance.” She stops dancing for a moment and looks at me. “Women suffer the most, so they have the most strength.”

LINA MANANGA, 18, FROM KAMAKO

“Here,” she tells me, pointing at the camp around her, “each day we wake in the morning, we collect water, we clean clothes, we look for what we can eat, we cook. This is our day. It is tough, physical work. When we fled Kamako, I remember the day; the children were dressed in red when the troops started arriving. As soon as they arrived they started shooting, cutting people’s heads. I was repulsed. As a woman I felt in a lot of danger. I was with child and I knew that even if I gave birth that day, they would kill the child. I have seen this. I have one child. Because of this violence, I had a miscarriage with the other. I am young, so I have to be strong. But some are not.”

CHANTAL KUTUMBUKA, 45, FROM KAMAKO

“I used to be a farmer. I’m used to working with my hands. So it’s hard for me to be here. I just want to work. We had land, we could sell things. I could look after my children. When the violence started I lived in fear. The militia would go to a house and I would see them carry out the woman. I knew what they were doing. I was afraid—I couldn’t have endured that. Then one day they killed my husband, who was a policeman, and we fled. We abandoned everything. It’s hard. I’ve lost weight, the children cry. At times I don’t know what to do. But I carry on.”

http://www.unhcr.org/

—

AMY WILLIAMS

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

When Amy Williams was a fourth-grader growing up in Briarcliff Manor in Westchester County, New York, she would regularly sneak her cousin’s hand-me-down jeans into her backpack, then slip into them at school. “I’m a complete tomboy—I always have been,” says Williams, whose mother was insistent that she wore dresses to class. When it was time to board the bus home, “I would change back, so she didn’t know.”

Fast-forward four decades and Williams’ enthusiasm for denim is still going strong, as CEO of Citizens of Humanity.

It all goes hand in hand with her love of retail, which Williams discovered during her senior year of high school working at Bloomingdale’s. As a teenager, Williams quickly learned how to put her head down and work hard—part of her coping strategy for dealing with her adoptive mother’s battle with cancer, which she lost during Williams’ junior year.

“I didn’t get flustered easily if things didn’t go perfectly. If I look back at that time, it was probably unusual for someone that age,” says Williams. As a student studying political science at State University of New York at Buffalo, she landed a job at Talbots. “I loved working and I didn’t love school,” says Williams.

That realization was magnified when Williams was accepted into a retail development internship program at Macy’s in New York City during the summer of her junior year in 1988, then received an offer for a full-time sales manager job, which she took on while finishing the remainder of her graduation requirements at the nearby Fashion Institute of Technology.

Unbeknownst to Williams, it was a decision that would help chart the course for her illustrious career in retail: In 1989, Williams, then 21, was hired by former Macy’s executives for a merchandise trainee position at Gap Inc. in San Francisco. “I missed the energy of the city,” says Williams, who moved back to New York City a year later and remained with the brand. By the time she left in 2003 to run Lucky Brand Jeans’ retail division in Los Angeles, Williams was overseeing Gap and Gap Body as the senior vice president of design, product development and pre-production.

“I had always loved L.A.,” she says, citing the city’s entrepreneurial fashion spirit. “You would design and develop, and could actually see the production in your backyard. That changes the speed at which you can do things, and the dynamics of the creative process.”

It was at Lucky where she met her now husband, Scott, who lured her to San Francisco when she opted to leave the company in 2006.

And what started as a consulting gig for Citizens of Humanity in 2009 evolved into a full-time job for Williams, who was asked to take on the role of president in 2011, and CEO in 2015. With her family based in the Bay Area (the couple now have twin daughters, in addition to Scott’s three children from a first marriage), Williams began travel to Los Angeles on a weekly basis—a commute that she has down to a science eight years on.

When in Los Angeles, Williams spends time brainstorming with the design and merchandising teams; other aspects of the CEO’s work range from strategizing with the sales teams around the globe on account opportunities to reviewing daily reports and exploring ways to grow the business. “I love working as part of a collaborative team and really working with other people and trying to draw out the ideas that they have and creating an environment that allows that to thrive,” she says.

There was a brief moment before university when Williams thought she might want to go into another field, such as restaurant and hotel management. But retail has always been her true calling—a conclusion that Williams drew in part after being reunited with her birth parents and half siblings (with the encouragement of her adoptive father) eight years ago. “Ironically my half brother is the creative director at [clothing company] AllSaints, my other brother is a lawyer and I was actually planning to go to law school, and my dad’s an architect. [Reuniting] is an amazing experience because you’re like, OK, I understand now.”

Regarding her own brood, it’s important for Williams to turn off work and be present with her husband and children, especially on weekends when the family enjoys outdoor pursuits, including riding and caring for their horse. And though soccer “might not be the sport I am most knowledgeable about,” Williams is “a keen assistant coach for the twins.”

As for some of her biggest career accomplishments, the kids have a hand in those, too. Earlier this year, Williams’ 15-year-old stepson asked her via text to pick out some Citizens denim for him. “It made my day,” she says. Meanwhile, the 8-year-old twins, are already following in their mother’s denim footsteps. “At school, they write about the outfits they wear,” says Williams. “They can never be too young, I guess!”

Claude and Rungwe’s Magic Factory

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Bones, flesh and organs. Are we merely a collection of different parts assembled like an automobile or is there more? Do we transcend these physical bodies after death or do we simply rot? It’s not certain as to what the answer may be. One thing, however, is for sure; after we pass we become beautiful skeletal sculptures. Animals and humans alike, there is no difference, we all just become art.

The structures of life are complex and beautiful on any scale, big or small. The bones arrange themselves in an ordered fashion so that they may function as an organism, moving in perfect harmony to achieve but the simplest of tasks.

Rungwe Kingdon and his wife Claude Koenig are no strangers to the baffling beauty of the natural world and the decay of all things.

Rungwe’s childhood was anything but simple. Growing up in Uganda with his father, hunting and drawing the structures of animals in a time before the worry of scarcity had even crossed the mind of the collective consciousness, Rungwe had a very different viewpoint of the natural world. No one who studied biology in a classroom would even come close to the level of understanding of form and function that he gained from his expeditions into the wilds of Africa with his father.

Later in life, Claude and Rungwe, with a vast collection of beautiful animal bones, would open a foundry in Stroud, England, in order to extend their fascination of beautiful constructs beyond the natural world and into that of fabricated human designs, working with a large collection of different sculptors such as Lynn Chadwick, Damien Hirst and David Bailey. With names like these, the Kingdons would soon own the foremost foundry for creating sculptural art in the U.K.

In the 2000s the couple created a foundry in the town of Kasese in western Uganda to help the local people grow and develop their society and at the same time learn very practical life skills. To this day the foundry operates and continues to teach young men and women how to work with various metals to produce beautiful sculptures. Both Claude and Rungwe make regular trips to the foundry in Kasese in order to continue to provide support for the local people.

The year 2004 was an interesting one for Claude and Rungwe, as they decided to create a bronze reconstruction of the dodo in a project they called “Bones to Bronze.” They even produced a documentary about the process that was angled at raising awareness about the growing mass extinction of the world’s more niche and unknown animals.

In 2008 the duo opened a gallery in Kings Place, King’s Cross, London. It specializes exclusively in sculpture, many of which have been created in the foundry in the U.K. The gallery is called Pangolin, the name coming from one of the world’s strangest and most hunted animals.

 

 

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Posted in Art

CATHERINE BAILEY

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

Polaroid. Gone, dead, kaput. It was a sad day when it was announced, especially that there would be no more Polaroid Type 55, one of my two all-time great films (the other being Kodak Tri-X). Type 55 was the way I recorded 30 odd years of my wife. It was like a threesome. A charming affair. No more unique one-off moments.

Time for yet another book. It will be my second book on Catherine; the first was released in 1995, The Lady Is a Tramp. I got in trouble with the extreme feminists, which I never understood. If they had bothered to read the wonderful words that Richard Rodgers and Lorenzo Hart had put together, they would understand it was a great compliment. Why would I disrespect a woman that I have been lucky enough to spend a third of my life with? I wonder how many of those feminists are still with their partners.

I decided to continue with Fuji FP-100 but it never had the same magic. It was just too perfect. No chance of a magical accident. Maybe hope has not gone; New55 Film is making great strides with their product. They certainly have my support. It’s a Steve Jobs moment, where someone has a dream.

I hope it works for New55 Film. It would be great, and I would be looking forward to having a three-way story again.

 

  • Devon, 1990

 

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Álvarez Bravo

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

I have always been haunted by images of certain artists, namely Bill Brandt, Frederick Sommer and Manuel Álvarez Bravo. All use photography that lends itself perfectly to surrealism more so than any other medium. It’s almost like the camera was invented for surrealism—making reality more real than real.

I was haunted by a photograph of a young girl looking over an iron balcony. I saw it on a poster in Rome. At first, I assumed it was a poster for a film. It turned out to be the work of the Mexican photographer Bravo.

Exploring his work, I found an image of a woman wrapped in bandages lying on the ground next to cacti. I could never get or understand why this seemingly simple picture bothered me so much. It is pure surrealism. Not the commercial ’70s idea of what it should be, but something that is just unexplainable.

If Bravo had offered me an explanation when I was fortunate enough to take his portrait, I would have turned him down.

I want to be haunted by his image. I don’t need an explanation. Like the meaning of life, I’m not sure I want to know.

Don’t ask an academic who needs a reason and cannot accept that some visuals cannot be neatly explained. Maybe the only way for me to understand was to make some bandage pictures of my own. I shot a lot on an 11×14 camera to slow the process down. It gave me more time to consider what I was trying to find out about Bravo’s view. I failed, I’m pleased to say. It is just an enigma.

 

 

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BEN WILSON

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

THE CHEWING GUM MAN

Small insignificant spots on a small insignificant dot in an unimaginably vast universe. Chewing gum left on the street. Most people walk over it without a second thought as to the potential of a small, obtusely shaped white dot. Not Ben Wilson. He instead sees infinite possibility and an array of canvases and artworks yet to be created.

The effort to gentrify the streets of London started along time ago and in a way has extended to our very minds. Kids grow up unable to play in the streets in fear of being run over, without the ability to paint and create things around them due to the constant CCTV coverage. Bombarded with adverts and billboards, it’s as if this generation has grown up in some Dada version of John Carpenter’s film They Live.

Ben has the sunglasses firmly on. He started with the idea of painting onto billboards that he saw in an effort to create some beauty from them in lieu of the consumerist messages that they so garishly display. This got Wilson in trouble with old Johnny Law, so he began to think of a way in which he could circumvent this bureaucracy.

 

 

One day, perhaps it was a moment or a group of events that tied together, Ben decided (in quite a genius way, I may add) to paint on the chewing gum that littered the pavements of all cities. Suddenly there was an unlimited amount of canvases all over the world.

Wilson first heats the gum with a small blowtorch, then coats the gum with three layers of acrylic enamel. He uses special acrylic paints to paint his pictures, finishing each with a clear lacquer seal. The paintings take from two hours to three days to produce. Subject matter ranges from personal requests to animals, portraits or whatever whimsy pops into his head, such as Gum Henge, a miniature painting of Stonehenge.

However, in true They Live style, the authorities had a problem with Ben making our streets about more than just mere consumerism. The Chewing Gum Man was arrested twice, once in 2005 and again in 2009, for nothing more than trying to make London prettier—no good deed, huh.

 

 

Before we move on, it’s worth noting that Ben has never been arrested in any other nation for his activities in painting chewing gum, only in the U.K.

Wilson began his artistic creation in macro form, creating as he did as a child. Massive sculptures made in wooded areas; these were often forms of sleeping giants. The serene, peaceful-looking sculptures were a far cry from the micro direction his craft would take.

Ben would return to these anonymous sculptures to find that they had been vandalized. In a way, moving to chewing gum was away of not only moving from macro to micro, but also from degradable to fixed.

 

 

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Posted in Art

Sculptures by David Bailey

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

These four sculptures, were created by David Bailey and made at Pangolin gallery.

The concept at play here, is that of eclectic objects that Bailey has collected. Some everyday household items, others more outlandish in origin. Form the simple Dodo made only from two components. To the more extreme forums such as X man.

The works are a combination of influences gained from Baileys travels in far reaching locations. tribal imprints and western religion permeates through the design of the creations. All of these things come together to create strangely familiar forms as if they were pulled from a collective consciousness.

Dead Andy is a highly conceptual work displaying a simple yet compelling idea.

  • Dead Andy

 

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Posted in Art

ANNUNCIATION SERIES

Posted on by Stephanie Janssen

I express myself in painting. I can have fun with colour, which is my colour, not the colour of film or digital which is decided by people in white coats or science geeks.

My photography is mostly black and white by choice. The reason photography in my opinion lends itself to black and white is by cutting out the distraction of colour. When I see black and white I go straight to the image. It also lends itself to surrealism which is what the camera is a perfect vehicle for.

In painting, I have no education in techniques. I guess I could be described as a primitive, or an outsider, in the same way my photography is self-taught. I realised that Picasso had more or less covered painting when I was in my teens. He cut off painters’ balls. Every image had the giant shadow of his influence.

I decided just to paint what or any way I felt like: no school, no style, no pleasing a gallery. This in turn makes it possible for anyone to paint, as long as one has a story to tell. Art without a story is just decoration.

 

 

 

The paintings here are based on the Annunciation. The idea came when I saw Leonardo da Vinci’s least successful painting of the Annunciation. The Annunciation has a comic Woody Allen script about it. A bloke apparently telling a young virgin that she is going to give birth to the son of God. Worthy of Netflix. I don’t think the name Mary was in use at the time. Her name was probably Miriam.

Another theme I use is Hitler killed the duck, which is based on the London Blitz that I lived through until I was about eight years old. I have also invented a painter called Wot who also paints anyway he likes.

So, have fun. Paint what you like and don’t worry about the academics.

 

 

 

Posted in Art