Modern Utopia
Pink flamingos, LSD, and notions of Eden are at the core of two new Twin Cities exhibits.
Artist in Residence
Inside a studio in a Grain Belt Brewery warehouse, stacks of art tell the story of author/artist David Coggins. His new book, ‘Paris in Winter,’ pays homage to his beloved Paris.
Building Neighborhood Economies from Within
The Neighborhood Development Center in Minnesota revitalizes distressed communities by empowering local entrepreneurs to invest in their own neighborhoods.
When tombstone artist Jim Larson began his career, there were really only two things his Twin Cities clients wanted carved into their stones: Christian crosses and roses.
Thirty years later, things are much different.
“We’ve even put slot machines or decks of cards on ’em,” Larson says. “If that’s what’s important to a person then, by golly, we’ll find a way to get it on there.”
Larson is a long-time employee of Schoenrock Memorials in St. Paul. Over the decades, he’s seen his customers turn away from traditional images, opting instead for more individualized ones.
“If they were into dogs or cats, they’d put that dog or cat on the stone,” he says. “I’ll bet I’ve done 200 different animals — everything from dolphins to turtles to frogs to fish.”
When it comes to personalized tombstones, St. Paul’s Oakland Cemetery has one of the best displays around.
Next to a memorial proclaiming that the deceased is “Asleep in Jesus,” there’s a granite marker with a beer bottle etched onto it.
One stone shows the image of a pick-up truck. Under it, in white letters, is the word “Toyota.”
There’s a marker with one of those Grateful Dead dancing bears on it and one with a steaming bowl of what appears to be soup.
Then there’s the grave that boasts carvings of both a television set and a hundred-dollar bill. Continue reading
Some Minnesota artists set up their easels on the banks of the Mississippi River. Others choose to create in the comfort of their downtown lofts. Joe Williams finds his artistic inspiration next to the Ripsaw Roller Coaster.
Williams is a caricaturist. He works at the Mall of America, in the shadow of Camp Snoopy, the largest indoor theme park in the nation.
“I just like that atmosphere, that circus environment,” says Williams. “I always wanted to run away to the circus when I was a kid, so here I am.”
Williams never imagined he’d make a living drawing buckteeth and oversized ears. The Minnesota native has a bachelor’s degree in fine art and is skilled in everything from graphic design to oil painting. None of his formal training taught him how to paint portraits with an airbrush or how to get a woman to appreciate a work of art that makes her look like a donkey.
Years ago, Williams was a stereotypical starving artist. He took a job as a caricaturist solely as a way to make money. But he quickly realized he had knack for capturing the personality of his subjects.
“If they’re real giddy and cheesy, I want to get it on paper,” says Williams. Continue reading
Some kids dream of becoming firefighters. Others fantasize about joining the circus. As a child, Heather Zehring always imagined she’d grow up to be fat.
“My brother and I used to play fat people when we were young,” says Zehring. “We would pretend to be fat people leaving the grocery store. We’d bump into each other and our pretend groceries would spill all over and we’d fall on the floor. So I guess it’s karma coming back and punishing me.”
Zehring was actually an average-sized kid. But by the age of 27, her childhood premonition had come true and she weighed more than 300 pounds.
Embarrassed by her size, she’d wait until midnight to go grocery shopping. She didn’t want to share the aisles with the spandex-clad women who stopped by the supermarket after their morning workouts. And she didn’t want crowds of people trying to peek into her cart to see what kinds of foods fat people buy.
It’s 0800 hours and the 88th Regional Readiness Command has reported for duty.
“Turn to the person next to you,” announces the voice on the PA system. “Ask, ‘Are you thinking of killing yourself?'”
On this morning, there are no push-ups or jumping jacks. No one’s learning how to disable a roadside bomb or survive a chemical attack. Instead, the focus is on suicide awareness and prevention.
In 2004, the U.S. Army reported 12 suicides; last year, 143. At this point in 2009, more soldiers have lost their lives to suicide than have been killed in combat.
In light of these numbers, the Army ordered what it calls “a service-wide stand down,” giving suicide prevention training priority over everything else.
“Typically in the military, commanders took care of their soldiers. If somebody got a broken leg, we fixed it. Now we’re realizing all of the other things we have to do to help take care of our soldiers,” said Lt. Col. Cynthia Rasmussen, a combat stress officer for the U.S. Army Reserve at Fort Snelling.
For years, Rasmussen has been the one soldiers have turned to when they feel like life just isn’t worth living.
It’s not hard to see how the horrors of war can affect one’s well being. What is difficult, said Rasmussen, is getting soldiers to reach out for help when they need it.
“In the military you’re trained to be tough. You can’t let nobody know you’re weak,” said Staff Sgt. Charlotte Dubois, who spent a year in Iraq.
When the native of Trinidad and Tobago returned to Minnesota, she struggled to fit back in.
“I felt alone,” Dubois said. “When I looked at everybody, I felt more or less like, ‘Ok you guys have no idea what we’ve been through over there.’ Everybody is laughing and having a good time. But at the same time you don’t want to deal with nobody. There were times I couldn’t sleep at night. I would have dreams. I would wake up sweating, just feeling hopeless.”
Still, she was afraid that asking for help would ruin her military career.. Continue reading
NIKKI TUNDEL 