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Winter 2012

HAYDEN’S A quarterly publication of Elf Productions

Satzuki Azalea by Macoto Murayama

Light and Dark VOL. 2

The Northern Lights: Photos by Vladimir Donkov

Perry Rodan: Matte Paintings by Sven Sauer

Wanderlust: Mexico Travels by Andrew Stowe

Hayden’s explores the creative impulse through visual stories. We hope to inspire you.

LIGHT AND DARK, Beau Saunders.

“COMMUNITY: A world where people authentically engage with one another and unlock their most generous selves.” - Belle Halparn and Kathy Lubar

Cover Art: “Satzuki Azalea” by Macoto Murayama Courtesy Frantic Gallery

Editor Artwork Poetry Photography In the Garden Essay Organizations

Jan Manon Sven Sauer Macoto Murayama Duncan Asper Alan Alejo Ellyn Maybe Vladimir Donkov Beau Saunders Jeff Scher Jessi Adam Andrew Stowe Maya Nair Amos Hayden Girlington Garage Doctors Without Borders



Letter from the Editor


Poetry by Ellyn Maybe


Plants: A View Inside by Macoto Murayama


Mixed Media by Duncan Asper


An Interview with Sven Sauer Perry Rodan: Matte Paintings Poetry by Ellyn Maybe



Moonlight by Jessi Adam


Notes by Amos Hayden


Film by Jeff Scher

Poetry by Ellyn Maybe Mixed Media by Alan Alejo

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The Northern Lights: Photos by Vladimir Donkov


Wanderlust: Mexico Up Close with Andrew Stowe




Beau Saunders


In the Garden with Maya Nair


Company Spotlight: Girlington Garage Work We Believe In: Doctors without Borders






Letter from the editor

Hello everyone, Thank you for perusing our magazine. We hope you enjoy it. First of all, I would like to apologize for the delay in putting this issue out. Hayden's is a free web magazine that I put together in my free time and the last period of time has been a bit busy. However, we are now on a schedule and I am thankful to say I have some help in different ways so getting issues out in the future will be more consistent. Our goal is to have 4 issues a year - one for each season. Every issue features an interview with a cinematographer or visual artist. We feature the inspiring art works of artists and entrepreneurs. We also highlight typically 2 businesses every issue that demonstrate significant social/cultural responsibility (in a myriad of ways) and environmental stewardship. Every issue also has a short essay by Amos Hayden, our muse, about art and society. We also have started a travel section titled Wanderlust spearheaded by Andrew Stowe, whose many travels and stories around the globe are quite delightful to hear. We invite your submissions to add to this new section.

In this issue, we have added a section towards the end about submissions. We will be having a new micro-site for Hayden's within our website at this year. In this issue, we are happy to share with you the works of Sven Sauer, matte paintings and digital artwork; Macoto Murayama, botanical art work; Vladimir Donkov, photography; Jeff Scher, photography and video; Ellyn Maybe, poetry; Andrew Stowe, travel journalism; Duncan Asper, digital artwork; Beau Saunders, photography; Jessi Adam, photography; Alan Alejo, multimedia artwork; Maya Nair, gardening tips; Amos Hayden, essay; Demeny Politt, Girlington Garage, business with social/cultural responsibility; and Doctors without Borders, humanitarian work. We find the artists, entrepreneurs and organizations featured in here very inspiring. We hope you do too. Thank you. Enjoy! Best,

Jan Manon


Ellyn Maybe

Parallel Universe

Some%mes I  wonder  if  there  are  one  million  people   listening  at  the  same  %me to  the  same  Leonard  Cohen  song, the  one  that  keeps  people  from  killing  themselves   It's  a  long  playing  record It's  a  long  song Where  do  people  play  each  other  the  songs  that  will  keep  them  standing when  one  foot  in  front  of  the  other  is  more  myth  than  prac%ce? I  once  tried  to  play  Beware  of  Darkness  by  George  Harrison  for  a  friend, cause  its  beauty  and  pain  were  singular  at  that  moment  and I  wanted  to  share I  wanted  us  to  hear  as  close  as  we  could  the  same  thing  and make  of  it  what  we  would He  said  he  heard  that  song  when  it  first  came  out  and  ran  out   to  smoke  a  cigareFe We  lost  something  in  that  moment I  listen  to  music  alone,  but  I  imagine  there  are  sharp  notes  bending  the backs  of  the  universe  into  more  flexibility,  more  love, more  tenderness,  more  a  cappella  chiropractors Somebody  is  strumming  3  basic  chords  and   somebody  will  live  through  the  night.  


Macoto Murayama

Plants: A View Inside


Macoto’s work in Panasonic Hollywood video.

Japanese lily, Macoto Murayama.

Nature’s glory  has  been  explored,  described,  drawn  and  sung  by  many  but  few  have   taken  what  appears  seemingly  aFrac%ve  yet  ordinary  in  nature  and  transformed   them  into  otherworldly  crea%ons  like  Macoto  Murayama  has.  In  fact,  Macoto  builds   flowers  with  the  precision  of  an  architect,  using  graphic  programs  that  are  designed   to  construct  buildings  to  create  exquisite  botanical  works  of  art. Few  can  easily  bridge  the  realms  of  plant  and  machines  with  such  ease  or  charm.   Macoto  may  spend  easily  up  to  several  months  over  one  of  his  botanical  illustra%ons   in  a  process  that  begins  with  dissec%ng  the  plant  subject  with  a  scalpel  carefully   working  through  every  part  of  the  flower  and  stem.  From  there  he  moves  to   sketching  and  photographing  each  aspect  using  a  microscope  and  magnifying  glass.   Then  he  takes  all  the  component  parts  and  carefully  constructs  dis%nct   interpreta%ons  of  each  plant  subject  using  Photoshop  and  3D  Max.  His  symmetry  is   mathema%cal  in  precision  and  some  of  his  sketches  show  the  influence  of  a  scien%st   at  work  with  botanical  labels.  In  some  ways,  Macoto’s  work  could  be  considered  a   revolu%on  in  and  of  itself  as  he  presents  a  symbio%c  rela%onship  between  botanical   art  and  technology  in  a  way  that  is  mesmerizing,  symmetrical,  transparent  and   evokes  romance  and  fantasy  simultaneously. When  Macoto  first  discovered  the  depth  of  structure  inherent  in  an  organic  flower,   he  was  curious  and  compelled  to  unravel  its  hidden  elements  -­‐  mechanis%c,   inorganic  and  dis%nct.  He  began  his  early  explora%ons  of  plants  using  the  computer


Macoto Murayama

Rose, Macoto Murayama.


Macoto Murayama

Commelina communis L. top, Macoto Murayama.


Macoto Murayama

Commelina communis L. side, Macoto Murayama.


Macoto Murayama

Commelina communis L., Macoto Murayama.


Macoto Murayama

Moshino Cherry, Macoto Murayama.

programs that  he  had  learned  while  studying  architecture  at  Miyagi  University  of   Educa%on  in  Sendai  to  illustrate,  in  me%culous  detail,  the  anatomy  of  flowers.   Curator  Trofimchenko,  who  represents  Macoto,  first  saw  the  ar%st’s  work  at  the  Art   Award  Tokyo  Marunouchi  Exhibi%on  in  2009.  Deeply  impressed,  he  approached   Macoto  along  with  the  director  of    the  Fran%c  Gallery  director,  Yasunobu  Miyazaki,   at  the  recep%on  and  asked  if  he  would  be  open  to  sharing  his  art  in  their  gallery. A\er  comple%ng  his  BA  in  spa%al  design  at  Miyagi  University,  Macoto  obtained  a   post-­‐graduate  degree  in  media  expression  at  the  Ins%tute  of  Advanced  Media  Arts   and  Sciences  (IAMAS).  In  addi%on  to  working  on  his  art,  he  holds  a  part-­‐%me  job  at  a  


Macoto Murayama

(from left to right): Sunflower, Rose, Macoto Murayama.


Macoto Murayama flower shop,  running  deliveries  and   assis%ng  with  produc%on,  design  and   photography. Macoto’s  work  has  been  featured  in   WIRED  magazine  and  numerous  art   shows  both  in  Japan  and  Europe.   Some  of  his  works  are  in  the  private   Pigozzi  art  collec%on  in  Geneva,   Switzerland.  In  2008,  Macoto  won  the   Grand  Prix  for  the  Asia  Digital  Art   Award. His  work  has  been  featured  in   promo%onal  videos  for  Panasonic.   Currently,  Macoto  has  a  solo   exhibi%on  “Inorganic  Flora”  at  the   Fran%c  Gallery.  

Macoto Murayama’s art work on display in Paris, France through Frantic Gallery.


Macoto Murayama

Satsuki Azalea, Macoto Murayama.

Macoto Murayama | Botanical Artwork P: 09072633604 | E:


Duncan Asper

THE RIGHT ANSWERS, 38� X 48�, polymers, acrylics and oils, mixed media art work, Duncan Asper.

Duncan Asper is a native of southern California. Drawing and painting at an early age, Duncan studied both fine and commercial art. With over thirty years of experience in the graphics and design industry, Duncan has returned to fine art in recent years. Known for his masterful and decisive style, Duncan draws inspiration from his environment, experimenting with different textures, foils, metals, paints, and textiles. | E:

“Autobahn,” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

An Interview with Sven Sauer

by Jan Manon

This interview was conducted in March 2010. Since this time, Sven Sauer and his company Pixomondo has won an Oscar for cinematography for HUGO.

Jan: Can  you  please  tell  us  a  liFle  bit  about   yourself  and  your  background  and  interests? Sven:  I  had  a  strange  way  into  the  film  industry...   A\er  my  studies  I  worked  2  years  in  the   adver%sing  industry.  The  strongly  concept-­‐ oriented  work  is  s%ll  a  relic  that  I  have  kept  from   that  %me.  A\er  these  2  years  working  on  dairy   products,  I  asked  myself  one  evening:  How  have   the  last  two  years  been  for  you,  Sven?  Did  you   have  fun? Sven Sauer digital artist, matte paintings Matte Painting Studio Wiesbaden, Germany.

From that  moment  on,  everything  happened   very  quickly.  I  got  out  of  the  adver%sing  industry   and  met  Igor  Posavec,  who  was  developing  the   computer  game  "Perry  Rhodan"  at  that  %me.   This  was  my  first  step  into  the  entertainment  

Sven Sauer industry. At  the  beginning,  the  decision  of  integraAng  ma.e  painAngs  into  this   game  had  been  just  a  stopgap  to  save  game-­‐performance.  Due  to  the  large-­‐ scale  painAngs,  there  were  not  many  3D-­‐elements  to  be  integrated  into  the  scene,  

which strongly  influenced  the  loading  %me  and  the  game-­‐flow.  A\er  the  ini%al  tests,   it  turned  out  how  effec%ve  the  integra%on  of  digital  pain%ngs  actually  was.  At  this   point  we  decided  to  mainly  use  this  technique  for  the  implement  of  that  game. Today,  digital  pain%ngs  are  a  permanent  feature  of  the  video  game  industry.  But  at   that  %me,  however,  it  was  quite  unusual  to  see  such  a  level  of  detail  in  a  simple   computer  game.  Over  60  digital  pain%ngs  came  up  in  7  months.  The  velocity  in   which  the  pain%ngs  had  to  be  prepared  was  good  prac%ce  to  me,  for  the  later  film   produc%ons... Jan:  Can  you  please  tell  us  a  liFle  more  about  the  PASSENGER  -­‐  the  inspira%on   behind  it,  any  discoveries  and  struggles  along  the  way?

Sven: It  was  on  a  sunny  morning  that  the  energy  grid  in  Berlin  collapsed.  The  trigger   that  has  caused  this  chaos  remained  unknown.  A  few  hours  later,  Munich  and   Frankfurt  become  powerless  as  well.  Within  just  a  few  hours,  the  largest  ci%es   become  isolated  from  the  outside  world.  A\er  series  of  cataclysmic  storms,  the  rural   residen%al  areas  are  cut  off  and  the  United  Na%ons  declare  Germany  as  a  forbidden   area.

“Deep,” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer

“Guotterbart,” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer

“Dimension,” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer

“Gom” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

For PASSENGER,  we  had  the  task  to  develop  the  look-­‐design  of  the  film,  to  create   a  visual  transla%on  of  the  script.  Visual  development  includes  a  number  of  things:   The  development  of  color-­‐codes,  however,  was  a  decisive  point.  How  do  you   represent  "solitude?"  Which  light  can  transport  this  feeling? This  ques%on  becomes  quickly  very  complex.  Loneliness  is  not  merely  the   "absence"  of  certain  things...For  example,  we  wanted  to  show  an  abandoned  city,   without  using  typical  mo%fs  that  had  already  been  seen  in  lots  of  movies  before.   The  developers  of  the  film  "I  AM  LEGEND"  have  found  a  very  clever  solu%on  to   this  problem:  they  did  not  destroy  the  high-­‐rise  buildings  of  ManhaFan  by   weather  and  %me,  but  wrapped  them  in  oversized  contamina%on  tarps. These  packed  houses  impress  with  a  frightening  effect.  And  not  without  any   reason:  we  all  have  followed  this  visual  language  a  few  weeks  a\er  9/11  in  the   media.  To  protect  the  surrounding  buildings  of  Ground  Zero  from  dust,  they  have   also  been  packed  into  huge  tarpaulins.  Subconsciously,  we  may  link  the  fic%%ous   "Ground  Zero"  of  the  film  I  AM  LEGEND  with  our  feelings  of  the  real  past  of  9/11.   Exactly  this  is  the  strategy  behind  visual  development:  the  crea%on  of  specifically   directed  emo%ons  using  visual  s%muli...

Sven Sauer

“Cable,” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer But back  to  the  pain%ngs  of  PASSENGERS.  We  were  looking  for  a  similar  analogy   which  would  focus  the  point  “solitude.”  By  defini%on,  loneliness  is  the  absence   of  certain  things  and  its  reac%on  to  his  surroundings.  With  this  help,  we  came  to   "spider  webs,"  which  can  only  arise  when  a  place  was  untouched  for  a  long   %me...So  we  searched  for  items  that  could  carry  urban  spider  webs  into  the   pain%ngs.  The  cable-­‐construct  between  the  houses  was  the  most  succinct   solu%on  to  this  design  problem.  This  example  easily  explains  the  strategy  behind   the  pain%ng:  the  cables  are  not  simple  elements  of  design;  they  rather  pursue  a   specifically  applied  purpose  with  their  effect:  the  reinforcement  of  the  feeling   "solitude." The  prepara%on,  the  phase  of  research,  is  as  important  as  the  actual  work  of  the   pain%ng  to  me.  Normally  it  takes  a  lot  of  %me  as  well.  A  job  which  is  not  properly   prepared  will  most  probably  go  wrong.  There's  a  quote  that  fits  this  very  well:  "If   you  do  not  know  where  you  are  going  to,  every  wind  is  the  wrong  one."  Good   prepara%on  gives  me  the  security  not  to  restart  from  the  halfway.  Of  course,  this   also  has  economic  advantages:  I  like  to  go  through  the  results  of  my  research   with  the  producers  or  directors.  During  these  conversa%ons,  I  get  a  beFer   picture  of  their  vision  of  the  film. Jan:  Where  do  you  as  an  ar%st  o\en  draw  inspira%on  from? Sven:  Once  a  week  I  take  half  a  day  to  go  into  a  bookstore  or  a  bibliotheca.   There  I  can  usually  spend  hours.  I  avoid  looking  for  something  specific.  That   wouldn’t  work  anyway.  It’s  like  the  purchase  of  suitable  footwear  -­‐  when  you   absolutely  need  some,  you  won’t  find  any... Mostly  I  dri\  disoriented  through  the  aisles.  Any  binding  will  then  catch  my   curiosity.  It  surprises  me  again  and  again  how  well  this  random  principle  works. The  actual  development  of  pain%ngs  is  rather  hard  work.  I  have  a  very  analy%cal   way  to  approach  to  the  development  of  a  pain%ng.  This  will  seem  strange  but  it   has  proved  to  be  a  construc%ve  solu%on  as  yet...It  seems  not  to  have  anything  in   common  with  crea%ve  freethinker,  but  it  has  a  huge  poten%al  to  develop   coherent  ideas.  The  first  process  of  development  consists  of  an  intensive   inves%ga%on.  We  try  to  find  out  which  ideas  are  based  on  the  script.  In  which   %me  does  the  scenario  take  place?  What  feelings  should  be  mediated  when  the   viewer  sees  the  finished  scene?  Here,  many  psychological  factors  play  a  role.   What  color  is,  for  example,  "fear?"

Sven Sauer

“Door,” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer

“Berlin,” PERRY RHODAN, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

We dismantle  the  content  of  an  image  surgically  and  then  we  reassemble  it   piece  by  piece.  These  processes  all  run  theore%cally.  At  this  point,  we  s%ll   haven’t  made  a  single  stroke.  Each  single  item  is  wriFen  separately.   Something  that  I  put  in  wri%ng  on  paper  is  something  that  I  can  paint  later.  I   have  a  guiding  principle  therefore:  I  write  to  see  what  I  think!  This  first  point   according  to  this  principle  is  important  to  us  to  make  sure  that  we  not  lose   ourselves  in  the  infinite  possibili%es  of  developing  a  pain%ng.  So  we  become   even  clear  about  what  we  really  want  to  see... Jan:  What  are  your  favorite  mediums  to  work  with? Sven:  The  basic  pain%ngs  are  created  with  Photoshop.  Only  in  the  phase   when  a  moving  picture  is  formed  from  the  mo%onless  image,  do  we  use   further  so\ware.  We  create  camera  projec%ons  with  3D-­‐Max.  For  smaller   anima%ons,  we  use  A\er  Effects.  We  do  the  composi%ng  of  all  elements   finally  with  Nuke.  This  list  of  programs  and  steps  show  well  how  complex  it   can  be  to  give  rise  to  one  final  shot.  The  2D  maFe  pain%ng  is  only  a  very  small   part  of  the  whole  work  process.  Up  to  20  people  have  been  working  on   produc%ons  like  “Volcano”  for  one  single  image. Jan:  Can  you  share  with  us  your  personal  vision  about  a  project  or  art  work   that  you  are  doing?

“Snow,” PASSENGER, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer

“Spider,” PASSENGER, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

“Evolution,” PASSENGER, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer

“Tower,” PASSENGER, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer.

Sven Sauer

“City,” PASSENGER, digital matte painting, Sven Sauer. Final city poster on following page.

Sven Sauer

Sven Sauer My goal  is  to  load  liFle  stories  into  the  shots.  Small  details  that  have  a  past,   rather  than  being  purely  decora%ve  elements.  I  think  that  exactly  these   elements  do  a  good  job.  Peter  Jackson  devotes  much  aFen%on  to  these   details  in  his  films:  The  decora%ons  of  the  swords  in  "THE  LORD  OF  THE   RINGS,"  the  shop  signs  of  the  New  York  streets  in  KING  KONG.  All  these   elements  make  the  scenery  convince  us  -­‐  we  take  it  as  a  subs%tute  reality. Most  of  the  elements  that  appear  in  my  pain%ngs  haven’t  been  created  by   coincidence.  A  conifer  forest  looks  more  like  a  dead  landscape  as  the   branches  of  deciduous  trees  do. Jan:  What  advice  or  sugges%ons  do  you  have  for  an  aspiring  visual  ar%st? Sven:  I  can  tell  of  a  conversa%on  that  I  witnessed  in  a  forum  for  maFe   pain%ngs  several  years  ago.  A  talented  ar%st  had  put  a  new  pain%ng  up  for   discussion.  The  picture  was  excellent:  A  ruined  city.  A  lot  of  smoke.  Slight   haze.  The  light  mood  was  right.  The  composi%ng  was  right.  But  s%ll  a\er  2   days,  he  had  not  received  any  response  yet,  no  feedback  on  this  pain%ng.   Somewhat  discouraged,  he  asked  what  was  wrong  with  this  picture.   Whether  it  was  not  good  enough?  Another  forum  par%cipant  said,  "That   image  is  technically  perfect:  super  cra\smanship...But  the  problem  is  the   fact  that  we  have  already  seen  similar  mo%fs  numerous  %mes.  Everything   there  is  to  say,  has  been  said  in  previous  discussions." This  conversa%on  has  bothered  me  for  a  long  %me.  In  fact,  I  o\en  see   pictures  I've  already  seen  in  lightly  similar  composi%ons  before.  This  is  a   shame. For  me,  the  aFrac%on  lies  exactly  there  -­‐  in  developing  something  more   "unseen."  Of  course  this  is  not  always  possible.  Many  projects  don’t  allow   this.  But  just  "free"  works  offer  the  opportunity  to  give  free  rides  to  my   imagina%on. For  me,  it’s  not  the  technique  of  the  pain%ngs  which  sets  the  foreground.   It  is  the  idea  that  s%ll  fascinates  people  the  most...

Sven Sauer | Digital Matte Painting MATTE PAINTING STUDIO, Albrechtstrasse 46, 65185 Wiesbaden Germany | E:


Ellyn Maybe

The Sky is Falling

I rolled  a  poem  into  the  body  of  a  telescope  and  looked  through  it  to  see    Henny  Penny   and  her  shrill  megaphone, the  skin  of  the  sky  is  falling. The  sun  has  stretched  its  parchment  across  the  clouds  like  a  trampoline How  many  people  die  each  year  jumping  into  airplanes, their  parachutes  unopened  like  a  leFer  banished  from  the  alphabet. From  the  ankle  to  the  knee  there  is  a  sonnet  prone  to  flight. From  the  thigh  to  the  hip, there  are  1000  curtsies  made  of  lead 16  expecta%ons How  many  obituaries  do  you  type  per  minute? There's  a  piece  of  flesh  underneath  the  arm it  %ckles it's  an  incubator How  many  %mes  did  you  feel  pregnant  when  you  felt  your  fingernails  itch? How  many  %mes  did  you  drink  orange  juice  and  sandpaper in  a  glass  with  liFle  umbrellas and  think  you  were  having  fun? Humans  are  so  architectural building  such  great  walls We  walk  stethoscope  to  stethoscope two  by  two Noah  is  clearing  his  throat There's  an  almanac  in  every  ark.


Jessi Adam

“MOONLIGHT PRINCESS,” night photography, Jessi Adam.

Jessi Adam | Photography, 35 mm color, black & white E:


Artistic Integrity Here I  am,  your  self-­‐proclaimed  messenger,  prophet  of  the  people  and  voice  of  your  best   inten%on.  Rally  forth. Ar%s%c  integrity  -­‐  how  do  you  define  it  and  how  do  you  live  it?  Let’s  begin  with  taking  a   look  at  why  you  consider  yourself  an  ar%st.  Maybe  it  started  with  recognizing  the  ability   you  have  to  create  something  original  and  dis%nct;  to  see  things  in  a  new  way;  and  to   create  something  of  value  and  of  use.  A  love  of  beauty  and  of  aesthe%cs  in  general   dis%nguish  the  ar%st  from  others.  But  the  true  art  that  compels  and  that  pushes  forward  -­‐ almost  of  its  own  accord  -­‐  demands  the  pursuit  of  perfec%on.  Its  principal  requirement  to   be  a  member  of  its  clan  -­‐  the  clan  of  ar%sts  -­‐  is  the  passion  for  crea%ng  art  and  holding  that   work  up  to  standards.  These  standards  are  qualita%ve,  subjec%ve  and  vary.  O\en  they  are   guided  by  intui%on  and  imagina%on  while  being  reined  in  by  the  limits  of  %me  and  physical   endurance. When  you  think  of  Michelangelo,  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  was  an  ar%st  -­‐  one  with  finely   tuned  skills  as  well  as  the  willingness  to  persevere  and  push  hard  to  build  his  art  work.  He   went  to  such  great  lengths  to  acquire  fine  marble  of  just  the  right  composi%on  so  he  could   sculpt  works  that  caught  and  reflected  light  simultaneously  with  subtlety  and  brilliance.   His  stroke  was  masterful  and  deliberate.  And  he  worked  so  hard  -­‐  hours  upon  hours  of   sweat  and  toil.  Today,  do  we  have  ar%sts  of  similar  bent  who  are  willing  to  put  in  that  kind   of  %me  to  build  works  of  such  excellence? Today,  our  world  converges  in  so  many  ways.  Technology  and  the  humani%es  intersect   repeatedly,  which  can  give  rise  to  original  works  that  draw  upon  your  imagina%on.  The   poten8al  is  there.  But  the  ques%on  lies  with  you  and  me.  Will  we  do  it?  Will  we  live  up  to   it? Will  we  take  the  %me  to  create  and  build  works  that  are  excellent  from  beginning  to  end  -­‐   in  both  the  obvious  and  the  hidden?  Will  we  have  the  humility  to  seek  inspira%on  and  the   dogged  determina%on  to  see  it  through?  Will  we  be  apprecia%ve  when  we  create  together   and  give  credit  where  credit  is  due?  Will  we  be  the  kinds  of  people  who  have  integrity  in   what  we  create,  build  and  share  so  that  we  do  the  very  best  with  what  we  have?  That   excellence  -­‐  in  both  the  bigger  picture  and  the  details  -­‐  that’s  ar%s%c  integrity.


Jeff Scher

Jeff Scher is a painter and experimental filmmaker. His work is in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art and he has created work for HBO, PBS, the Sundance Channel and, most recently, a music video for Bob Dylan. "The Best of Times," a selection of films, was just published as an iPhone and iPad app. Mr. Scher teaches at the School of Visual Arts and at N.Y.U. Tisch

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L’EAU LIFE (Shark ending), a short movie by Jeff Scher. Music by Shay Lynch.

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TULIPS, a short movie celebrating the Kiss, Jeff Scher. Music by Shay Lynch.

Jeff Scher | Watercolors & Film Fez Films E:


Ellyn Maybe

Turning Pages

If anyone  ever  reads  5,000  words  a  minute, I  place  my  syllables  of  breath  it  will  be  you trading  pacifiers  and  Gerbers for  algebra  and  metaphysics protégé  of  broken  nose  music, soundtrack  to  a  life  of  iron  and  garlic wise  meant  weird  meant  war the  gall  of  the  bones  in  your  nose plucked  like  a  banjo  by  a  heavy  hand whose  conscience  had  lost  its  sense  of  smell Claiming  no  rhythm  and  s%ll  you  dance you  spin  music  like  a  weaver with  a  wink  and  an  illuminated  harp you  dance  like  Fred  Astaire  is  breathing  mints and  cartwheels  through  your  hips What  is  the  equa%on  for  the  life  problem? 6  x  fist  =  words. Ellyn Maybe is the author of the poetry/music CD, Rodeo for the Sheepish as well as books including The Cowardice of Amnesia, Praha and the Poet, Walking Barefoot in the Glassblowers Museum, Putting My 2 Cents In, A Talk With Nature and The Ellyn Maybe Coloring Book. She has performed at Lollapalooza, on the BBC, and opened the MTV Spoken Wurd Tour in Los Angeles. Writer’s Digest named her one of ten poets to watch in the new millennium. | E:


Alan Alejo

Pixel Popper: SM series

Just Froggy, Alan Alejo.


Alan Alejo

Alan Alejo | Mixed Media Art hFp://­‐the-­‐ ar%st/more-­‐dirt-­‐on-­‐the-­‐ar%st/ E:

“I have  a  short  aFen%on  span.  In  fact,  my  mother  once  told  me  that  I  have  the   symptoms  for  ADD.  In  grad  school,  I  took  full  advantage  of  my  short  aFen%on  span   by  working  on  different  things  that  interested  me  in  short  bursts  for  a  prolonged   amount  of  %me.  I  used  to  sleep  between  4-­‐6  hours  a  day,  and  most  %mes  I  just   crashed  in  my  studio,  so  I  have  18-­‐20  hours  a  day  available  to  me  to  create  art.  I'd   paint  for  a  couple  of  hours,  then  work  on  a  sculpture  for  a  couple  more,  then  %nker   with  light  and  electronics  for  a  few,  do  a  bit  of  research  and  experimen%ng  and   finally  start  the  cycle  all  over.   The  capsule  art  came  out  of  my  fascina%on  and  observa%ons  of  human  behavior,   and  in  this  par%cular  case,  about  people's  obsessions,  addic%ons  and  illusions  of   control  and  self-­‐control.  Those  are  the  basic  concepts  and  depending  on  the  work   and  the  viewer,  there  can  be  other  liFle  surprises  in  it.  I  think  the  gela%n  capsules   as  a  medium  work  well  for  this. In  2008,  many  people  were  swept  into  the  poli%cal  frenzy  of  the  presiden%al   elec%ons,  and  the  public  just  can't  get  enough  of  the  candidates.  As  a  response  I   created  portraits  of  McCain  and  Obama  %tled  Red  Pill  and  Blue  Pill.  For  any  viewer,   they  are  fun  to  look  at  and  if  you  want  to  delve  deeper,  you  can.   The  same  goes  with  the  PIXEL  POPPER:  SM  SERIES.  On  the  surface,  the  video  game   characters  and  items  are  nice  and  fun  to  look  at,  and  the  viewer  can  appreciate  the   %me,  effort  and  the  craziness  of  puung  them  together.  Then  there's  the  nostalgia   factor.  Many  of  the  buyers  were  my    genera%on  and  younger  who  grew  up  playing   these  video  games  incessantly.  I  did  that  and  my  friends  did  the  same  thing.  It  was   the  electronic  babysiFer.    Digging  deeper,  video  games  are  very  addic%ve  and  we   get  obsessed  with  winning  and  bea%ng  the  game,  collec%ng  all  the  treasures,  and   saving  princesses...I  have  friends  who  used  it  to  get  away  from  real  life  and  avoid   family  hell.  It  is  a  drug  and  a  magic  pill  and  cure-­‐all. But  I  like  the  viewer  to  see  what  they  want  to  see,  and  to  think  about  the  work  as   far  as  they  want  to  go  with  it.  A\er  I  finish  a  new  piece  of  art,  I  become  just  another   viewer  of  that  art,  just  like  everybody  else.”  -­‐  Alan  Alejo


Alan Alejo

Up, Up and Away! by Alan Alejo.


Alan Alejo

Tanooki Kookie, Alan Alejo.


Aurora, photography, Vladimir Donkov.


Aurora, photography, Vladimir Donkov.


Aurora, photography, Vladimir Donkov.

I've been  a  fan  of  Brian  Cox,  the  noted  par%cle  physicist  from  Manchester,  UK   since  I  discovered  his  work  a  few  years  ago  for  the  BBC.  A  few  months  ago,  I   bought  copies  of  his  video  series  directed  by  James  Poole  called  Wonders  of  the   Universe.  It's  a  delighvul  show  -­‐  educa%onal  and  inspiring;  awe-­‐inspiring  and   epic. Among  many  insighvul  things  that  Brian  shared,  he  said,  "We're  children  of  the   stars."  We're  essen%ally  made  up  of  the  same  materials  that  make  stars.   I  loved  that…and  then  when  you  see  images  of  our  universe  or  images  like  this  -­‐ of  the  aurora  borealis    -­‐  that  Vlad  has  captured  so  beau%fully  -­‐    you  feel  it. Thanks, Jan  Manon,   Editor


Vladimir Donkov  is  a  UK-­‐based  outdoor  photographer  with  a  passion  for  shoo%ng   wild  areas  and  isolated  cultures  that  are  vulnerable  and  in  danger  of  being  lost.   During  the  last  few  years,  he  has  traveled  around  the  North  Polar  Circle  to   photograph  its  wildest  regions  for  his  new  book  "North."  Some  expedi%ons  have   kept  him  in  complete  solitude  and  away  from  any  people  or  any  cellular  or   mobile  coverage  for  periods  las%ng  up  to  2  months.  For  example,  Vladimir  had  to   carry  2  backpacks  himself  that  weighed  a  total  of  130  pounds  of  equipment,   mountain  gear  and  food  in  the  mountains  of  Greenland.  But  it  was  worth  to  him.   He  was  able  to  get  the  shots  he  longed  for.  At  last,  a\er  4  years  spent  in  taking   photos  of  the  beauty  in  Polar  country,  he's  now  preparing  to  publish  his  book  and   begin  a  new  and  exci%ng  project.

from Vladimir: "During  the  Aurora  season  of  2010-­‐2011,  I  waited  and  the  freezing   cold  for  so  many  hours  just  to  photograph  the  breathtaking  Northern  Lights.   Greenland  was  my  star%ng  point  and  the  journey  lasted  for  two  months,   commencing  in  September.  It  was  an  unsupported  and  lonely  hike.  However,  it   was  full  of  beau%ful  sceneries.  Then,  I  went  to  the  Swedish  Lapland,  where  a\er   many  long  nights  of  wai%ng  in  vain  at  minus  39  degrees  Celsius,  I  finally   witnessed  one  of  the  strongest  displays  in  years.  At  the  end  of  March,  my  Aurora   hunt  ended  in  the  wonderful  Norwegian  Sea  on  the  Lofoten  Islands.” “I  have  always  found  the  Aurora  amazingly  impressive!  Although  I  have  seen  it   more  than  15  %mes,  it  surprises  and  enchants  me  as  if  I  am  witnessing  it  for  the   first  %me.  My  belief  is  that  you  don’t  have  to  be  a  great  ar%st  to  take  a  good  shot   of  the  Aurora,  when  is  happens  before  your  eyes.  What  one  needs  is  to  have  iron   willpower  to  wait  for  a  few  months,  warm  clothes  and  tea  to  survive  and  the   right  autude  to  capture  the  moment  with  passion  and  pa%ence."


Aurora, photography, Vladimir Donkov.


Aurora, photography, Vladimir Donkov.


Snow and Ice, photography, Vladimir Donkov.

Vladimir Donkov | Photography E:

Š Ivaylo Petro

Vertical Shot | +44 754 734 1601


Mexico Up Close with Andrew Stowe

Day of the Dead Altar, Oaxaca, 2009, photography by Andrew Stowe.

When the  small  bus  called  a  combi  reached  Tepeyac  at  last,  night  had  come  to  the  remote   mountain  village.  Ed  and  I,  and  the  crowd  of  people  with  their  new  boots  and  machetes   and  bags  of  cabbage,  all  spilled  out  of  the  bus  onto  the  side  of  the  dark,  dirt  road.  The  bus   (really  more  of  a  mini-­‐van)  had  been  crammed  with  five  people  to  every  three-­‐person  seat   for  most  of  the  late  a\ernoon  trip  from  the  town  of  Las  Margaritas,  near  Comitan,  in   southern  Mexico.  It  had  been  a  slow,  arduous  test  of  endurance,  complete  with  screaming   babies  and  a  middle-­‐aged  cowboy  downing  can  a\er  can  of  Tecate  beer  along  the  way.   Retrieving  our  packs  from  the  combi's  roof,  we  listened  as  the  driver  assured  us  that  


Church of Santa Domingo, Oaxaca, 2009, photography by Andrew Stowe.

another bus  would  come  soon  to  take  us  the  rest  of  the  way  to  San  Quin%n,  where  we   hoped  to  finally  find  the  hiking  trail  to  Laguna  Miramar,  in  the  heart  of  the  Lacandon   Jungle.  The  combi  departed  back  the  way  we  had  come  and  we  looked  around  in  the  dim   light,  taking  stock  of  our  situa%on.  Exchanging  a  look  of  apprehension,  Ed  and  I  quickly   realized  that  the  nearest  paved  roads  and  friendly  guest  houses  at  the  other  end  of  the   rough,  three-­‐hour  mountain  ride  were  as  good  as  an  eternity  away. Tepeyac  was  one  of  the  poorer  places  we  had  seen  anywhere  in  Mexico,  with  only  one   deeply  ruFed  road  running  to  and  through  it.  The  houses  we  could  see  were  liFle  more   than  dirt-­‐floored  wood  shacks.  Several  of  the  buildings  clustered  close  to  the  road  were   also  supplemented  by  cracked  concrete,  and  served  as  small  shops.  Foreboding,  hand-­‐ painted  signs  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village  bearing  the  signature  of  the  EZLN  (the   Zapa%sta  guerrilla  army)  had  designated  the  region  –  in  rather  un-­‐Mexican  fashion  –  as  an   alcohol-­‐free  zone.  There  were  no  women  to  be  seen  now  in  the  half-­‐lit  streets,  only   dangerously  sober,  violent-­‐looking  groups  of  men  giving  off  strong  waves  of  boredom  and  


Sierra Norte, Ixtlan, 2009, photography by Andrew Stowe.

Lacondon Jungle near East Zapata, 2009, photography by Andrew Stowe.


Metro Mural, Mexico City, 2009, photography by Andrew Stowe.

hos%lity. It  was  the  kind  of  place  in  Mexico  that  travelers  avoided  at  all  costs.  Making  our   way  to  a  bench  res%ng  against  the  wall  of  one  of  the  shops,  we  tried  not  to  no%ce  the  hard   looks  cast  our  way,  or  to  acknowledge  the  rude  discussion  of  gringos  that  they  made  sure   was  loud  enough  for  us  to  hear. While  Ed  watched  the  packs,  I  walked  a  por%on  of  the  road  lit  by  the  closed  shops  and   asked  the  people  I  met  about  the  possibility  of  staying  a  night  in  the  village.  Only  one  man   gave  me  more  than  a  cold,  unfriendly  stare  or  curt,  unsympathe%c,  'No'.  The  owner  of  one   of  the  shops,  the  man  barely  li\ed  his  eyes  from  his  poker  game  long  enough  to  state   bluntly  that,  yes,  we  could  sleep  on  his  floor  if  we  needed  to.  I  thanked  him  profusely  for   his  kindness  and  fled  the  palpable  animosity  of  the  room,  only  to  have  the  door  slammed   shut  on  my  heels  as  soon  as  I  stepped  outside,  and  the  bolts  thrown  home  loudly.   Returning  to  join  Ed,  I  found  him  wai%ng  tensely,  %ghtly  gripping  the  edge  of  the  bench.  He   knew  from  my  own  worried  look  that  there  would  be  no  hospitality  for  us  in  Tepeyac.  For   the  first  %me  in  all  of  our  travels  together  in  Mexico,  we  had  found  ourselves  in  a  situa%on   that  we  knew  could  end  very  badly. *** Two  weeks  prior  to  being  stranded  in  Tepeyac,  Ed  and  I  had  met  up  in  Mexico  City  to  take   advantage  of  a  simultaneous  break  from  our  respec%ve  work.  We  had  on  previous  


occasions traveled  extensively  in  northern  Mexico,  but  this  %me  had  decided,  on   something  of  a  whim,  to  undertake  an  explora%on  south  (way  south)  of  the  border.  Siung   at  a  cafe  in  the  quaint  Mexico  City  neighborhood  of  Coyoacan  at  the  outset  of  our   adventure,  we  had  decided  that  above  all  else,  we  wanted  to  experience  the  fabled   Lacandon  Jungle,  located  in  the  state  of  Chiapas  and  spanning  part  of  the  border  of   Mexico  and  Guatemala.  We  had  heard  it  was  home  to  a  pris%ne  lake,  Laguna  Miramar,   and  numerous  exo%c  creatures,  including  monkeys,  parrots,  and  what  was  probably  the   last  remnants  of  the  poten%ally  dangerous  Zapa%sta  Army  of  Na%onal  Libera%on  (EZLN),  a   guerilla  group  that  had  declared  war  against  the  Mexican  government  on  January  1,  1994,   when  the  North  American  Free  Trade  Agreement  (NAFTA)  had  gone  into  effect. We  had  le\  Mexico  City  almost  immediately  and  traveled  south  through  the  state  of   Oaxaca,  savoring  the  Day  of  the  Dead  fes%val  in  Oaxaca  City  and  the  compara%ve  quiet  of   a  small  village  in  the  Sierra  Norte  on  the  way.  Con%nuing  east  into  Chiapas,  we  had  started   asking  about  the  best  way  to  reach  Laguna  Miramar,  and  whether  the  EZLN  was  perhaps   making  travel  unsafe  in  the  jungle.  In  Tuxtla  –  the  dismal,  u%litarian  capital  city  of  Chiapas   –  the  locals  had  merely  shrugged.  In  San  Cristóbal  de  las  Casas,  closer  to  the  jungle,  the   French  sympathizers  of  the  Zapa%stas  had  looked  at  us,  dragged  deeply  on  their   cigareFes,  and  then  resumed  their  studies  of  Marx.  In  Comitan,  almost  at  the  edge  of   Lacandona,  the  illicit-­‐pox-­‐and-­‐flavored-­‐ice-­‐swilling  residents  had  told  us  the  way  to  the   laguna,  via  a  trail  from  the  village  of  San  Quin%n-­‐Emiliano  Zapata,  but  didn't  know  about   the  ac%vity  of  the  guerillas.  When  we  had  finally  le\  Comitan  on  the  last  leg  of  the  trip  to   San  Quin%n,  we  s%ll  had  had  no  idea  what  we  were  geung  ourselves  into,  or  whether  we   might  encounter  any  armed  rebels. We  had  learned  that  the  bus  to  San  Quin%n  le\  from  Las  Margaritas  every  day,  but  some   part  of  the  instruc%ons  we  had  received  had  been  lost  in  transla%on.  By  the  %me  we  had   stocked  up  on  food  and  other  supplies  in  Las  Margaritas,  we  had  managed  to  miss  the  one   bus  to  San  Quin%n.  Eager  to  get  our  trek  underway  now  that  we  were  so  close,  we  had   decided  to  take  the  only  other  op%on  available  to  us:  the  late  a\ernoon  combi  to  Tepeyac,   two-­‐thirds  of  the  way  to  our  final  des%na%on. *** A\er  two  infinitely  long  hours  of  siung  with  our  backs  against  the  wall  in  Tepeyac,  the   men  hanging  around  Ed  and  I  gave  up  trying  to  goad  a  reac%on  from  us  and  wandered  off.   Ed  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  I  let  my  shoulders  relax  and  slumped  back  %redly  against  the   wall.  A  friendly  group  of  kids  wandered  over  to  chat  with  us  amiably,  when  we  suddenly   heard  the  long-­‐awaited  sound  of  a  vehicle  approaching.  It  turned  out  to  be  a  pickup  truck,   a  camioneta,  and  not  a  bus,  but  we  hailed  it  anyway  and  the  driver  stopped  in  front  of  us,   reluctantly  agreeing  to  give  us  a  ride  to  San  Quin%n.  Two  other  men  siung  in  the  cab  with   him  jumped  out  to  peel  off  a  sec%on  of  a  tarp  stretched  %ghtly  over  a  metal  frame   covering  the  truck's  bed.  They  pointed  to  the  piles  of  concrete  and  other  building  supplies  


(from left to right): Peppers, Mexico City; El Combi near Tepeyac; 2009, Ed (author’s brother) and a forest guard, Laguna Mirmar photography by Andrew Stowe.

packed there,  and  told  us  we  would  have  to  perch  in  the  high  metal  frame.  Overjoyed  at   the  thought  of  leaving  Tepeyac,  we  readily  agreed  and  clambered  up  to  our  awkward   seats  on  top  of  the  truck. As  we  pulled  out  of  Tepeyac,  Ed  and  I  %ghtened  our  grip  on  the  narrow  metal  bars  of   the  frame.  The  driver  began  speeding  up,  and  the  en%re  back  of  the  truck  swayed   violently  as  we  swerved  sharply  around  large  potholes  and  boulder-­‐strewn  ditches.   Siung  on  equally  narrow  metal  bars  with  our  feet  planted  on  the  concrete  bags  below,   we  found  our  heads  and  torsos  stuck  out  dangerously  above  the  top  of  the  truck.  What   began  as  a  fun  game  of  dropping  into  the  truck's  bed  in  order  to  dodge  fast-­‐   approaching,  chest-­‐high  tree  limbs  and  thorny  vines,  soon  took  its  toll.  When  the  truck   finally  halted  at  the  outskirts  of  San  Quin%n,  it  was  close  to  midnight  –  four  hours  a\er   leaving  Tepeyac  –  and  we  were  exhausted,  bruised,  and  bloodied.  The  driver  charged  us   50  pesos  (or  almost  5  dollars)  each  for  the  ride,  and  then  sped  off  in  a  cloud  of  dust. We  shouldered  our  heavy  packs  and,  finding  nothing  to  tell  us  exactly  where  we  were,   started  walking  by  the  light  of  our  head-­‐lamps  down  a  wide,  dark  road.  We  decided  we   had  no  choice  but  to  find  a  secluded  campsite  and  wait  un%l  morning  to  get  our   bearings.  The  line  of  homes  along  the  road  soon  ended  but  to  our  dismay  was   immediately  replaced  by  a  massive,  sprawling  military  base  with  high  walls  and  soldiers   posted  in  guard  towers  spread  thickly  around  the  perimeter.  We  did  our  best  to  hold   our  pace  steady  and  our  eyes  forward  as  we  drew  abreast  of  and  passed  the  main  gate   of  the  base,  where  several  groups  of  armed  men  stood  smoking  and  talking  loudly. At  last  the  road  reached  its  terminus  in  what  seemed  to  be  grassy  fields  in  the  complete   darkness  just  beyond  the  edge  of  the  base.  We  had  wanted  to  get  a  liFle  further  from   the  army  compound  before  finding  a  place  to  camp,  but  it  was  almost  midnight  and  we   were  too  %red  to  go  any  further.  We  let  our  bags  fall  heavily  to  the  gravelly  road  and   slumped  to  the  ground  ourselves.  In  the  spirit  of  cau%on,  we  decided  to  quietly  watch   the  road  and  base  for  a  few  minutes  before  seung  up  the  tent  and  going  to  sleep.  


approaching, chest-­‐high  tree  limbs  and  thorny  vines,  soon  took  its  toll.  When  the  truck   finally  halted  at  the  outskirts  of  San  Quin%n,  it  was  close  to  midnight  –  four  hours  a\er   leaving  Tepeyac  –  and  we  were  exhausted,  bruised,  and  bloodied.  The  driver  charged   us  50  pesos  (or  almost  5  dollars)  each  for  the  ride,  and  then  sped  off  in  a  cloud  of  dust. We  shouldered  our  heavy  packs  and,  finding  nothing  to  tell  us  exactly  where  we  were,   started  walking  by  the  light  of  our  head-­‐lamps  down  a  wide,  dark  road.  We  decided  we   had  no  choice  but  to  find  a  secluded  campsite  and  wait  un%l  morning  to  get  our   bearings.  The  line  of  homes  along  the  road  soon  ended  but  to  our  dismay  was   immediately  replaced  by  a  massive,  sprawling  military  base  with  high  walls  and  soldiers   posted  in  guard  towers  spread  thickly  around  the  perimeter.  We  did  our  best  to  hold   our  pace  steady  and  our  eyes  forward  as  we  drew  abreast  of  and  passed  the  main  gate   of  the  base,  where  several  groups  of  armed  men  stood  smoking  and  talking  loudly. At  last  the  road  reached  its  terminus  in  what  seemed  to  be  grassy  fields  in  the   complete  darkness  just  beyond  the  edge  of  the  base.  We  had  wanted  to  get  a  liFle   further  from  the  army  compound  before  finding  a  place  to  camp,  but  it  was  almost   midnight  and  we  were  too  %red  to  go  any  further.  We  let  our  bags  fall  heavily  to  the   gravelly  road  and  slumped  to  the  ground  ourselves.  In  the  spirit  of  cau%on,  we  decided   to  quietly  watch  the  road  and  base  for  a  few  minutes  before  seung  up  the  tent  and   going  to  sleep.  Swaung  at  mosquitoes  and  listening  to  the  dogs  of  the  village,  we   strained  our  eyes  and  ears,  wai%ng  anxiously  in  that  unfamiliar  place. Suddenly,  a  voice  stabbed  sharply  at  us  out  of  the  dark,  from  the  direc%on  of  the  base:   “Tiene  que  re8rar!  Tiene  que  re8rar!  [Leave  now!]”  Our  hearts  leapt  into  our  throats   and  we  started  up nervously.  Was  it  an  unseen  guard  in  a  dark  tower  at  the  corner  of   the  base?  Was  he  talking  to  us?  We  stood  silently,  adrenaline  coursing  through  our   veins,  ready  to  bolt  like  rabbits  into  the  high  grasses  at  a  moment's  no%ce.  The  voice   came  again,  sharper  this  %me:  “Tiene  que  re8rar!  Tiene  que  re8rar!”  I  suddenly  decided   that  revealing  ourselves,  come  what  may  of  it,  would  be  infinitely  beFer  than  being   shot. I  shouted  back  at  the  voice  in  the  dark:  “No  comprendo.  Lo  siento.  No  comprendo  [I   don't  understand,  sorry]”.  The  voice  quickly  retorted:  “Tiene  que  re8rar!  Tiene  que   re8rar!”  I  half  expected  to  hear  the  bolt  drawn  back  on  an  unseen  gun.  I  shouted  with   great  urgency:  “Somos  de  los  Estados  Unidos!  Somos  visitantes!  Vamos  a  caminar  a  la   laguna!  Esta  bien  si  acampamos  aqui  por  la  noche?  [We're  from  the  US,  we're  just   visi%ng,  we're  here  to  see  the  lake!  Can  we  camp  here  tonight?]”  A\er  a  long  pause,   we  heard  a  rough,  “OK”,  muFered  through  clenched  teeth.  A\er  hurriedly  seung  up   the  tent,  we  lay  in  our  sleeping  bags  on  the  hard  ground,  listening  for  any  sound  of   approaching  soldiers.  I  slowly  dri\ed  off  to  sleep,  wondering  if  the  guard  was   permiung  us  to  camp  there  just  so  he  and  his  armed  comrades  could  more  easily  rob   us  while  we  slumbered.


ANDREW STOWE We awoke  at  dawn  to  a  beau%ful  sunrise  illumina%ng  lush,  rolling  fields  and  mist-­‐ shrouded  jungle  hills.  Emerging  from  the  tent  we  were  stunned  to  see  how  close  we   had  camped  to  the  guard  tower  at  this  corner  of  the  base.  The  soldier  stared  down  at   us  darkly  from  his  post.  Our  belongings  packed,  Ed,  undaunted,  approached  the  guard   and  asked  the  way  to  Emiliano  Zapata.  Retracing  our  steps  along  the  wide  road   (actually  a  runway  for  military  aircra\),  we  turned  down  a  side  track  that  we  had   missed  the  night  before.  Almost  immediately  we  found  ourselves  among  a  collec%on  of   poor,  simple,  but  well  cared-­‐for  houses.  We  overtook  four  boys,  walking  in  the  same   direc%on  as  us,  each  with  rubber  boots  and  a  machete,  and  asked  them  where  we   could  get  a  permit  for  camping  at  the  laguna.  They  pointed  in  the  direc%on  we  were   walking  and  said  something  about  a  tourist  office,  so  we  fell  in  beside  them  and  walked   silently  into  the  center  of  the  village. Dominated  by  a  large  grassy  field,  the  center  seemed  to  be  occupied  by  most  of  the   men  of  the  village,  all  holding  machetes  and  siung  on  benches  lining  the  sides  of  a   large  building  and  an  open-­‐air  mee%ng  room.  We  found  the  president  of  tourism,  and   as  we  waited  for  him  to  return  with  our  permits,  we  answered  the  ques%ons  of  the   friendly  old  men  wai%ng  near  us,  telling  them  of  the  hos%lity  of  Tepeyac  and  the   unlikely  campsite  we  had  found  the  night  before.  They  told  us  that  the  area  around   Zapata  had  been  the  epicenter  of  the  EZLN  uprising  in  1994,  and  that  San  Quin%n,   which  in  effect  was  no  more  than  the  huge  army  compound,  had  been  built  one  year   later,  in  1995,  to  both  combat  the  guerillas  and  serve  as  a  deterrent  against  future   uprisings. A  large,  authorita%ve  man  abruptly  shouted  at  the  seated  figures.  Our  conversa%on   was  cut  short  as  they  all  stood  up  and  commenced  to  spread  out  through  the  field,   scything  the  grass  with  their  machetes  as  they  went.  The  president  soon  returned  with   our  permits  and,  our  paperwork  in  order,  led  us  over  a  wobbly  suspension  bridge  to   the  trail-­‐head.  He  informed  us  that  visitors  usually  have  to  take  a  guide  from  town  to   make  the  trek  into  Lacandona,  to  the  laguna,  to  avoid  geung  lost  among  the  network   of  trails.  But,  he  con%nued,  all  the  guides  were  busy  working,  so  we  would  have  to  go  it   alone.  Just  keep  following  this  main  trail  and  you'll  be  fine,  he  assured  us.  Then  he   turned  with  a  smile  and  a  wave,  and  le\  us  alone  in  the  jungle. It  was  midmorning  and  it  was  already  beginning  to  feel  hot.  As  we  slogged  along  the   muddy,  caFle-­‐churned  trail,  the  sweat  began  pouring  down  our  faces  and  backs.  It  was   only  five  kilometers,  or  about  three  miles,  to  the  shores  of  the  lake,  but  with  the  mud  


ANDREW STOWE ankle-­‐ to  calf-­‐deep  in  many  places,  it  was  a  long,  slow  march.  At  last,  a\er  passing   along  the  edges  of  small  farms  and  through  fields  full  of  grazing  cows,  we  found   ourselves  hiking  through  land  that  felt  more  like  the  wild  jungle  we  had  imagined.   Heavy  green  vines  hung  from  large  limbs,  pinkish-­‐red  bromeliads  clung  to  the  sides   of  huge  trees,  and,  as  we  discovered  with  some  amazement,  the  steamy  air  even   smelled  just  like  the  jungle  exhibits  in  the  Bronx  Zoo  that  we  had  been  so  enamored   with  as  children  growing  up  in  Connec%cut. Sensing  the  lake  was  close,  we  quickened  our  pace.  The  trail  began  to  descend   slightly  and  we  caught  our  first  tantalizing  glimpses  of  shimmering  water  through   breaks  in  the  thick  vegeta%on.  Suddenly  the  jungle  opened  fully  and  we  found   ourselves  standing  in  breathless  wonder  on  the  shores  of  one  of  the  most  beau%ful   places  I  have  ever  seen.  We  collec%vely  breathed  a  deep  sigh,  feeling  that  our  epic   journey  from  Mexico  City,  down  through  Oaxaca  and  most  of  Chiapas,  almost  into   Guatemala,  had  at  last  reached  something  of  its  righwul  conclusion,  here  in  this   unlikely  Mexican  Shangri-­‐la. Dropping  our  sweat-­‐blotched  packs  and  pulling  off  our  mud-­‐caked  boots,  we  waded   into  the  perfect,  blue-­‐green  tropical  water.  If  heaven  exists,  I  thought,  this  must  be   what  it  feels  like  to  see  it  for  the  first  %me.  The  por%on  of  the  lake  that  we  could  see   was  immense,  stretching  perhaps  for  a  mile  in  one  direc%on  and  two  miles  in   another.  Lush,  green  mountains  ringed  the  expanse  of  water  under  the  gray,  vaulted   sky.  There  were  no  people  in  site  except  for  one  old  forest  guard  from  the  village,   siung  quietly  in  the  shadows  by  a  fire.  It  was  one  face  of  Mexico  that  we  hadn't   even  known  existed.  A  flock  of  parrots  flew  noisily  overhead.  The  booming  roars  of   howler  monkeys  abruptly  exploded  from  the  hills  nearby  and  reverberated   menacingly  through  the  trees.  Ed  and  I  turned  and  smiled  at  each  other.   “Unbelievable”,  was  all  he  could  manage.  “Simply  stunning”,  I  returned. We  set  up  our  tent  underneath  the  roof  of  a  large,  open-­‐walled  wooden  structure   connected  by  a  short  path  through  the  jungle  to  a  similar  building  where  the  bright-­‐ colored  hammocks  of  the  forest  guards  swayed  gently  in  the  breeze.  No  sooner  was   our  camp  in  order  than  we  stripped  off  our  dirty  clothes  and  ran  whooping  into  the   perfectly  warm,  blue-­‐green  water.  I  swam  lazily  out  un%l  our  camp  disappeared   among  the  various  greens  and  browns  of  the  jungle  and  all  I  could  see  was  the   steamy  forest  pressing  eagerly  against  the  water's  edge.  Ed  lay  in  the  sandy   shallows,  dozing  happily  with  his  face  s%cking  out  of  the  water.  All  the  fear  and   tension  of  Tepeyac  and  San  Quin%n  seemed  distant  and  insignificant,  easily   forgoFen  in  the  magical  tranquility  of  the  laguna.


ANDREW STOWE We would  end  up  spending  several  days  camping  by  the  shore  of  the  lake,  bathing  in   the  perfect  water,  listening  to  the  wild  voices  of  the  jungle,  and  exploring  different   areas  around  the  lake  by  boat  with  one  of  the  forest  guards  from  Zapata.  We   paddled  to  the  dark,  bat-­‐filled  caves,  accessible  only  by  water,  where  immense   turtles  could  be  seen  swimming  languidly  beneath  the  surface.  We  visited  the  shear   rock  rising  out  of  the  lake  where  an  ancient  Mayan  petroglyph,  El  Mano  Pintado,  or   the  Painted  Hand,  decorated  the  stone.  We  hiked  to  a  mirador,  a  viewpoint  set  on  a   hill  in  the  jungle  overlooking  both  Miramar  and  another,  smaller,  adjacent  lake  that   was  home  to  a  popula%on  of  crocodiles. All  too  quickly,  though,  our  %me  at  the  lake  would  pass.  Rejuvenated  and  completely   enamored  with  the  area,  we  would  hike  back  out  through  the  mud  to  the  charming   town  of  Zapata  and  its  affable  residents.  A\er  a  night  in  the  village,  we  would  work   our  way,  bus  ride  by  bus  ride,  back  to  Mexico  City  and  our  return  flights  to  the  US.  In   all  our  %me  in  Chiapas,  in  the  very  heart  of  EZLN  territory,  we  had  encountered  no   guerillas,  no  farmer-­‐soldiers  wearing  the  black  ski  masks  and  camouflaged  ouwits   now  immortalized  on  postcards  and  bumper  s%ckers  that  depict  the  'warrior-­‐poet'   Subcomandante  Marcos.  We  might  have  thought  on  some  unspoken  level  that   encountering  an  armed  group  of  rebels  would  be  exci%ng  in  an  adventurous,   roman%c  sort  of  way.  In  the  end,  though,  we  met  what  was  only  mostly  friendly   people  who  were  consistently  happy  to  talk  about  Mexico  or  help  us  find  our  way.   The  laguna  had  ul%mately  been  the  unchallenged  highlight  of  the  trip,  rivalling  even   the  breathtaking  expanses  of  open  desert  that  lend  strongly  to  our  love  of  northern   Mexico.  Drawn  back  repeatedly  by  the  people,  the  landscapes,  the  food,  and  the   language,  Ed  and  I  will  undoubtedly  return  to  Mexico  soon.  I  think  for  our  next  trip   south  of  the  border,  though,  we  might  skip  Sonora  again,  and  return  to  Lacandona.

Andrew Stowe | Travel Photojournalist Andrew Stowe is a writer and ecologist who has volunteered on organic farms and helped create a manual for traditional, sustainable agriculture in Nepal and India. Mr. Stowe was born in Connecticut in 1982 and studied biology at Bates College in Maine. When he is back in the United States, he spends much of his time close to his father's birthplace in Northeast Kingdom, Vermont. E:

Outside with Beau Saunders

TWIN BLOSSOMS, Beau Saunders.


Beau Saunders | Photography Rainbeau Pictures E:


Some tips Tulsi plant, Maya Nair.

Every %ny  seed  has  enormous  poten%al  –   dormant  life,  yet  unseen;  wai%ng  to  burst   forth  and  produce  boun%ful  pleasures.   Imagine:  the  energy  in  the  %ny  acorn   produces  a  tree  that  could  live  a  thousand   years.   One  of  the  useful  plants  that  you  can  grow   at  home  is  the  Tulsi  or  Holy  basil  which  was   used  in  India  before  1000  BC  as  an   Ayurvedic  medicine.  Tulsi  is  quite  hardy  and   it  grows  well  indoors  and  outdoors  in  sunny   and  warm  climates.  

Increases immunity  –  regular  use  keeps   influenza  (such  as  swine  flu)  away Reduces  fever   Heals  cough  and  sore  throat   Reduces  blood  pressure Minimizes  blood  cholesterol  and   strengthens  the  cardiac  system Heals  insect  bites  and  skin  disorders The  leaves  are  eaten  raw,  added  to  juice  or   dis%lled  in  water  to  create  the  above   remedies.  There  are  many  types  of  holy   basil  including  green  Tulsi,  purple  Tulsi  and   wild  Tulsi  andTulsi  tea  is  a  popular   beverage  all  over  the  world.

The 5000  year  old  “Padmapurana”,  an   ancient  healing  text  from  India  states  that   every  part  of  the  Tulsi,  including  root,   Tulsi  is  best  grown  from  a  fresh  seed.  Here   stems,  flowers,  fruits  and  leaves  are  sacred. are  some  instruc%ons:

Organically grown  Tulsi  is  used  as  medicine   Get  an  aluminum  pan  and  spread  some   in  many  countries.  Here  are  some  of  the   organic  soil  on  it. ways  we  can  use  Tulsi: Spread  the  seeds  on  the  soil  and  cover  with   more  soil.  Spray  water  and  keep  the  soil  


Some tips moist at  all  %mes.  It  may  take  up  to  six   weeks  for  the  seedlings  to  appear.   When  the  seedlings  are  about  3  inches   tall,  re-­‐pot  them  and  leave  them  in  a   sunny  spot  or  near  a  24-­‐hour  light   source  inside  the  house. In  sunny  climates,  Tulsi  grows  very  well   from  May  through  September.  Leave  the   pots  outdoors  and  the  plants  will  return   with  warm  weather. Cut  the  top  of  the  plant  so  that  it  will   grow  branches  and  this  will  also  allow   the  main  stem  to  become  thick  and   strong.

Tulsi plant, Maya Nair.

Note –  If  you  would  like  to  get  Tulsi   seeds,  just  send  a  self-­‐addressed,   stamped  envelope  to  Maya  Nair,  310   Stone  Hill  Pt,  AlphareFa,  GA  30004.

Enjoy some  tulsi  tea  by  steeping  a  few   leaves  in  hot  water  for  a  few  minutes.   Here’s  to  your  health!

Maya Nair | Photography & Writing Maya Nair grew up in Kerala, India and moved to the USA in 1982 and she worked as a telecommunications engineer for 25 years. She now lives with her husband in Atlanta, Georgia. Her passion is to grow organic vegetables and herbs to share with neighbors and friends.



“I know what it’s like to feel powerless or frustrated with your car. I decided to do something about that. I started my own shop where respect for the customer came first and foremost.” - Demeny Pollitt, Founder of Girlington Garage

Girlington Garage a different kind of automotive shop Geung your  car  fixed?   How  does  wai%ng  in  a   room  that  is  well  lit  and   clean  with  snacks,  free   coffee  and  water  and  a   comfy  couch  sound   with  free  Wi-­‐Fi?  Oh  and   add  in  friendly,  smart   staff,  a  liFle  terrier  and   clear  explana%ons  so   you  really  understand   what  your  car  needs   and  what  your  repair   costs.  Demeny  PolliF’s   Girlington  Garage  does   just  that  and  more.   Demeny  herself  is  easy   accessible,  helpful  and  

knowledgeable. She   even  offers  a  Basic  Car   Course  where  you  can   learn  how  to  check  your   oil  and  radiator  fluids,   change  a  %re  and   address  common  car   issues.  She  and  her  staff   will  walk  you  through   the  components  of  your   car  and  answer   ques%ons  you  have  step   by  step. That  kind  of   personalized  care  is   rare  in  any  business  -­‐   let  alone  the  

automo%ve industry   known  for  its  greasy   workmen,  bad  coffee,   rough  language,  late   service,  terrible   bathrooms  and  s%ff   furniture. By  offering  a  caring   autude  and  opera%ng   her  garage  with   transparent  service,   Demeny  has  won  die-­‐ hard  fans  in  an  industry   that  can  be  tough  to   please.  She’s  also  made   geung  your  car  fixed  so   much  more  fun.


Work We Support: Doctors without Borders In the Sudan

Refugees collecting water at the MSF water collection point in Jamam refugee camp. © Robin Meldrum

Humanitarian Aid for 80,000 Sudanese Refugees Doctors without Borders brings attention to urgent needs of refugees now...

Support MSF by making a donation online or calling (888). 392-0392

In March  of  2012,  Doctors  without  Borders  (MSF)  has   brought  attention  to  the  crisis  in  Sudan’s  Blue  Nile  State   where  80,000  refugees  have  fled  genocide  and  sought   shelter  in  the  Doro  and  Jamam  refugee  camps.  The  area  is   remote  and  difficult  to  access,  leaving  the  refugees  entirely   dependent  on  humanitarian  assistance  for  survival.   MSF  has  been  pumping  and  distributing  treated  water  -­‐   almost  130,000  liters  -­‐  daily  along  with  providing  critical  food   supplies.  Maintaining  emergency  response  capacity  and   being  able  to  continue  to  help  this  nation  that  is  newly   independent  is  a  difficult  and  vital  task.  In  its  field  camps,   MSF  has  also  offered  outpatient  services  and  medical  care. Doctors  without  Borders  has  assisted  people  across  the   world  in  emergencies  and  brought  much  needed  attention   to  areas  of  the  world  in  crisis.

Submissions Interested in  submiung  to  Hayden’s   online?  We  welcome  your  ideas.  We  are   just  on  our  fourth  issue  and  already  the   content  is  pouring  in.  Most  of  our  content   comes  from  eager  and  passionate  people.   Sound  familiar?  Sound  like  yourself?  Then   do  send  in  your  stuff.  We  will  read  every   submission. We  will  be  having  a  new  micro-­‐site  for   Hayden's  within  our  website  at  this  year.   Visit  our  facebook  page  to  see  art  work,   previous  issues  and  join  our  community. hFps:// HaydensMagazine Rose, Macoto Murayama.

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Hayden's Winter Issue 2012  

This issue features an interview with matte painter Sven Sauer.