The Paper Darts crew was ecstatic when Gregory Euclide agreed to an interview, for we believe he is one of the Twin Cities' most vibrant artists. As Gregory gives us a peek into the process of his art and daily practice, he proves to be an inspiration for the aspiring writer, artist, and musician. Don't miss the featured gallery of his work in our Art section.

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Paper Darts: Can you describe your daily routine? What does your studio look like? What is your approach for making art in relation to a space? How much of your day do you devote to your art?

Gregory Euclide: My routine depends on the time of year. I teach, so the summers are very different than the school year. But, for the past several months my routine has involved waking up at 5:40, making breakfast and coffee and then driving to work. I teach high school for half the day and then college classes in the afternoon twice a week. I get home from teaching and work on my own things until my special lady friend comes home. When I am not making a huge body of work, and therefore needing every minute of the day, I love to cook. So, around evening I will start to get things together for dinner, which usually involves some vegetables and some form of curry over rice. We are members of the East Henderson CSA and get some great produce directly from an organic farm.
There are so many great benefits to living outside of the city, the food is one, but cheaper housing is another. The studio that I had in MPLS was about ¼ the size of my studio now. I was able to relocate to the Minnesota River Valley and found a great house with land. The lot is tucked into a hill of cedar trees with a creek and a pond.

PD: The end product of your art is part of an intense process. Can you describe the process of integrating elements of nature, found objects, and traditional artists’ media?

GE: I wanted the work to be a document that blurred some of the modes of representation. I think about nature and I grew up watching nature shows on television. I read about landscape, I walk through the woods in my back yard, I visit national parks, I utilize goods and materials pulled from the land - and all of these things are in my mind as I sit down and try to create a Landscape Painting. I have always been interested in making the invisible visible or blending the micro with the macro. Putting found objects in the work was a way to bring something into the work that was authentic. It was also a way to introduce something of a souvenir into the composition – a nod to the fact that the drawings and paintings are based on memory of experience and not of actual places.

PD: You have said that your art “explores the contradictions between the projection of idealized, picturesque views of landscape and [your] desire to have an authentic experience in nature.” How does the actual process of making the art shape this conclusion?

GE: The traditional art making process is a world filled with conventions, rules and demands made by the art market. That structure restricts ones ability to create whatever it is that you might want to create. Some artists live off of foundation grants and state money, some artists sell work, some do both and yet still some work in unrelated jobs to make money to live and then produce art that is not for sale. These are all very different worlds. An art object that is presented through a gallery is really there, for the most part, to be sold. There are some exceptions, but galleries make their money that way. So, the work must adhere to the conventions of being protected, being able to be hung, being archival, and so on. This process is interesting to me in relationship to landscape painting.

If I am trying to present a work of art in a gallery that is meant to convey the feeling or idea of wilderness or being in nature, I must make that work within the rules of the market (the work should be framed. The work should be in a rectangle. The work should only be so large). It is very odd to me how this transformation happens – from land into art. So, to answer your question, the works I make are aware of their object nature – just as when I am in nature I am aware of how I am framing nature.

PD: What is your personal relationship with the wild Midwestern landscape?

GE: I don’t see much of it. I see a lot of beige houses and farm fields. It requires a lot of effort just to find some wild Midwestern Land.

PD: Do you feel your audience will better understand/value your art if they know the details of your entire process?

GE: I think one could arrive at some sort of appreciation of the work without knowing anything about the process. I don’t really control understanding because people experience things differently. I enjoy knowing the process if the process has some significance to the concept of the work. Simon Starling, for example, uses process as a way to construct meaning. I don’t intend my work to be that process-heavy. Some of the materials that I use have a history that may create an interesting dialog within the work. When those things are present I try to make viewers aware of what they are looking at. I might mention in the materials listing that something is “found foam” because to me that is an important distinction to make.

PD: What emotion fills you after you have finished a piece of art? (Ex: pride, self-loathing, fear, and relief?)
 
GE: Like a food court in a mall – it is full of these random voices, squeaks, and bangs… and if I frame it in my mind correctly it sounds like musical harmony. I kind of feel like that when I am done – as if I have achieved some semblance of harmony.

PD: Do you believe your art projects a tone or element of emotion?

GE: I’m not exactly sure. All I can assess is how it makes me feel. But I am well aware of how I am able to get into the work in a way that someone else may not be able to get into. Everyone enters the work from a different place and takes something different away. I don’t try to project a tone necessarily.

PD: You were recently published in High Fructose and will soon be published in Paper Darts. What is lost in your work when it is photographed and reproduced for print?

GE: Pretty much everything that matters to me. I think the real interest and strength lies in being able to view the work in person – being able to move around the work with your body, to explore the space. These works have purposefully broken away from the flat surface plane. When I take a still photo for promotional purposes it always is a serious compromise to the work. I would like to think of the photographs as an invitation to see them in person. But the reality is that most people never see them in person, yet some people seem to like the still photos of the work. I don’t think it looks bad as a photo, but it is like hearing half of a symphony.

PD: Is Minneapolis kind to an artist such as yourself? Have you lived anywhere else? How much does the city in which you live affect the art that you make?

GE: If you mean “kind” in terms of sales I would say “No.” I sell 98% of my work elsewhere.

The city does affect the work a bit. If I travel to LA then I start to see palm trees popping up in the work. Since the drawings are kind of a conglomerate of whatever landscape I am thinking about, they are affected by what I am seeing on a daily basic.  And to be honest, some cities just make me happier. And when I am happy, I make more work.

PD: What did you want to be when you grew up? Have you grown up? Are you doing what you want to do for the rest of your life?

GE: I never really thought of what I wanted to be. I rarely have a picture of myself in the future in my mind, and when I do, it is a long narrow room with no furniture, a glossy hardwood floor and a stereo at one end with me at the other end. I always liked the idea of transferring something to others. Teaching seemed natural. I could not imagine a living where I was making something for someone else to sell. The great thing about my current position is that I am able to talk to young people everyday about what makes creativity, design, and art so interesting. I create my works in my free time and they happen to sell. I imagine I will do something like that for the rest of my life. Give back and produce.

I am certainly doing what I would like to do for the rest of my life. I wake up and go to sleep in the most wonderful space. I share my life with the most wonderful partner and we are both in awe of the world. It feels pretty good.

PD: What contemporary artists are you watching and learning from? Do you have an art history giant that you keep in the back of your mind for inspiration?

GE: I see things I like to look at now and again and I read books that allow me to look at situations differently, but I am not the type of person who you will see at openings every weekend or anything like that. I am much more interested in the world at large than I am in art specifically. Music, architecture, materials, land… all these things interest me much more. While I make the objects that get displayed in galleries, I really don’t feel too connected to that world. I would like to stay away from that as much as possible.

PD: What was the worst art critique you have ever survived?

GE: You get out of a work what you are willing to put into a work. Sometimes people, for whatever reason, are not willing to put any effort into the work. Art is subjective, and critiques are always to be taken with a grain of salt… as well as praise. I have had many critiques where the comments that were made were harsh, but I always just think they are expressing their opinion.

PD: What advice would you give to an aspiring artist post-formal education? Do you believe an artist must adhere to a formal education?

GE:Advice would depend on what one was looking for. I give advice to my students all the time and I think they just apathetically let it roll through their ears. My advice--find something you love to do and do it often. Education is what you make out of it. You don’t need a formal education unless you want to move up on the salary schedule or teach. Everything you learn in college you could learn at a library or just by being resourceful. One has to understand that these institutions are great places to seek out resources but anyone with a bit of motivation could find these same things anywhere else.

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 Visit his website to view and learn more about Gregory Euclide's work.

“How do I describe my job to people? I make the most of every day. I don’t have just one job. Do I really list off all of them? Does anyone care?  I’m involved with many organizations, so I don’t have as much free time as I’d like to.”

What does Lauren Koehne do with her free time? Lauren works. At 22, Lauren has already started her own fashion line. She is completely self-sufficient with no less than 5 part-time jobs to support herself and the growth of her line, Flower Child Apparel.  

Any young clothing designer can put their sewn garments onto a skinny model and send them down a hallway to strut; but Lauren has not stopped there. She promotes her clothes along side of a distinct vision: Flower Child Apparel offers responsibly made clothing of perfect construction with a bit of a bite. Her world is not one of glamour or disillusionment and neither are her designs. Her clothing is comfortable, affordable, and unique—a mix of “fairytale and raw edge.” The line is a direct extension of the creator, and Lauren is looking to clothe like-minded individuals. Her philosophy is one of hopeful realism and harks from the era that inspired the name of her label. More hippie than hipster and certainly more realistic than her peers, Lauren Koehne has every reason to remain hopeful that her hard work will pay off.  

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Paper Darts: Can you describe the Flower Child woman?  

Lauren Koehne: She is independent, but definitely nostalgic. She is in her mid-twenties and has some interest in “changing the world,” even though she recognizes that this can only be accomplished in small ways. She is generally articulate and cautious. She enjoys learning about the newest music while treasuring the old and reading up on new ideas while forming her own. She is not incredibly up-to-date on current trends and fashion media, but creativity and good taste in dress are both important to her.

PD: What will the Flower Child woman wear this Spring?

LK: It’s a surprise. But I am using ideas and images of dark Victorian styles combined with the edge of the Velvet Underground and other experimental rock groups of the late 1960s and early 1970s.

PD: What are your greatest hopes for yourself and for your clothing line?

LK: I want to get to a point where teaching and working on my line become my split focus. I have had the opportunity to teach sewing and crafts for different art centers, school groups, and programs. I am hoping to get a Master’s degree so that I can continue to do this and keep working on my line so that it becomes enough of a financial support to drop other “side jobs” or corporate design. Designers may have to "go corporate" to compete, which is natural. I guess I am hoping the main affect that designers like myself have on the industry is a higher regard for business ethics!

PD: What motivated you to go out on a limb and start your own business? 

LK: I just figured it was the time! I worked very hard in school, so I graduated without debt. I was ready to work and see where things would lead me, so it was a great time to dabble with ideas and branding for the type of work I would want to do full-time someday.

PD: How does one begin to balance a life and a business, when you alone are the business? 

LK: I don’t really know! I try to get out with a friend or do something fun for a couple hours once or twice a week, but that is all I have time for.

PD: What advice would you give to freshly graduated, young entrepreneurs?

LK: Just do it. It’s not going to be easy at all; I struggle with both criticism and people being “too nice” when I am trying to get advice. But it’s all about learning from all of that. Also, do not think that your endeavors will become a great, full-time job anytime soon! It takes years to get to that point. I have learned to be okay with that and I will not give up on my “dabbling” in independent design.

PD: Do you have advice for artists and designers trying to survive in this economy? 

LK: We grew up during a time in which having a lot of "stuff" meant success. Times are different. It is essential for us all to realize that having a big house filled with stuff means nothing except that we have joined the ranks of over consumption. Having a lot means that we are taking up more space and resources than we ought to, particularly in light of the way many outside the U.S. have to live. It also usually means that we have invested in quantity, rather than quality. 

1. Invest in a few quality items. 
2. Know where your money is going.
3. Choose businesses that support local production or fair and equal trade.
4. Choose environmentally produced and/or recycled raw goods and packaging.
5. Know that your money is going to the people who are working hard to deserve it, and need it.

PD: Can you take us through the steps of your process, by describing the creation of a specific design? Sketch, to birth, to buyer?  

LK: It actually varies a lot. In general, I just find inspiring music or art movements to get excited about a particular attitude or mood. I start creating ideas based off of this and in the end, structure these ideas to fit a particular fashion season, buyer, or client.

PD: What specifically inspired your eco-friendly designs? 

LK: I spent the summer before I started my line at my parent’s home in a forest close to La Crosse, Wisconsin. I got more familiar with the trend towards business cooperatives and folk art while I was there. I was very intrigued by the difference that independent production with organic and recycled fabrics could make, and decided to use these ideas in my first line. Although I am not planning to continue using all “organic” due to the financial constraints of my target market, I will continue to find ways to implement recycled fabrics and keep production local.

I am encouraged by the fact that our generation is sick of feeling like a number and a factory-produced thing; we like to think that the products we buy came from an idea. We buy the cheep stuff at Wal-Mart and Target because it suits today’s customers’ needs. It might be what we have to do, but are these really the products we want wear and want to support?

Minneapolis is among the cities I feel are able to make the biggest impact. I don’t feel that I need to move to New York to make my line a success. Resources like Etsy have helped me reach an international audience; I have sold to places like Australia and Germany.

PD: What is your prediction for the world of fashion in ten years; will designers with heart, such as yourself, take over the industry?

LK: I don’t think it will be so easy for us to “take over” the industry. In general, the industry is moving to Asia. Asian countries are very economically competitive to the US, and thus they have been producing most of our apparel for a long time, and so those countries have an interesting hold on the industry. However, there are a growing number of young people who are both opting to design and produce locally, as well as young people who would prefer to invest a bit more money in local design and production. I believe this trend will grow. I think that independent designers “with heart” may grow to a level of competition with the corporate ready-to-wear industry.  It will take years of hard work to get there, but we will do it. Eventually, our small socially responsible business may have to “go corporate” to compete. Based on our experience, we will know how to keep production--and our values--close to us through structural changes.

PD: While studying clothing design, you said you were called “the artist”. But you have stated, “art works to destroy boundaries, while design works to fit into boundaries”. Can you expand on your stance of how art differs from design? 

LK: Oh I love thinking about this question! When I first started designing, I elected to be an “artistic designer.” In giving myself that label, I felt free to design whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I freed myself from certain industry boundaries: season, trends, conventional silhouettes, etc. So in essence, I was actually trying not to follow the rules. I let ideas flow and was not afraid to make or market the resulting designs. Though I soon came to realize that customers looking to purchase apparel need boundaries. They want to fit in even if they perceive themselves as a very independent person. They want to look current. They want to pay a standard price. Over-the-top ideas may look great on the runway or in a picture. But they may not be for your "daily girl" to wear to work, out with friends, or even to a concert.

That’s when I started to perceive the difference between art and design. Design is all about the consumer. A designer must figure out what a person needs or is missing in their everyday life, then a designer must create a concept and design a product to fit this need. Design stays in the boundaries of everyday life.

Artists work hard thinking of ways to change and do things differently. Although many would argue that Art is essential to the human soul, Art is not a basic commodity. Art is not furniture, clothing, packaging for our foods, etc. Art is something that we do not need, but are meant to take an idea or abstract thought away from.

PD: What art has inspired you recently? 

LK: Victorian elegance and the hard glam edge.

PD: What music has inspired you recently? 

LK: The Velvet Underground, Bob Dylan, David Bowie.

PD: What is the next step to your further success?

LK: I am doing a show in late March. This will serve as the perfect opportunity to show my upcoming and slightly experimental Fall/Winter 2010 line!

Also, I have noticed a trend that may influence my future lines; in this economy, women are more apt to spend money on special occasions than on every day wear. I am applying a fairytale with edge perspective to bridal attire by creating an anti-wedding look.

PD: Is there another young talent that inspires you?

LK: Paper Darts!

Most of the photos featured within the interview are from the current line of intimate apparel from Flower Child. The line takes Lauren Koehne’s mission and applies it to clothing that is wearable around the house, but made for the bedroom: everything in the line is both sexy and comfortable. The first two images are from Lauren's First collection.

To contact Lauren Koehne of Flower Child Apparel, you may reach her at  flowerchildapparel@gmail.com. You may find more of her work on Etsy.

The photographers for these shoots were Katie Carlson and Tim Koehne. The Main Model is Alyssa Spinks. The Lookbook layout designer is Alysha Lynn Scott.

Lovely. That is the perfect word to describe the voice and demeanor of Anna Sacks. The California native found her quiet, sultry voice while working in the Midwest. Here she talks about how building a community of artists was integral to fostering her confidence as a singer-songwriter.  Though sweet and light, Anna Sacks’ music has a powerful resonance and so do her answers to our questions about her evolution as a musician.  

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Paper Darts: Do you believe in talent or a gift, or must an artist simply grow?

Anna Sacks: We’ve all known people who seem to effortlessly possess (often from an impossibly young age) an overwhelming and undeniable ability in a certain field, artistic or otherwise. It’s hard not to envy that kind of inborn talent, in part because it can seem to go hand-in-hand with a clear, almost compelling sense of purpose, while the majority of us have to muddle through a great deal of trial and error trying to figure out what makes us tick. That being said, I personally find the process of trying and erring, in music and the rest of my endeavors, to be incredibly valuable…sometimes the things that seem on the surface to be these senseless detours turn out to be the most formative (and informative) experiences.

PD: It seems that artists often have several moments when it becomes clear to them that their art can move an audience. When did you FIRST realize that you had that unique something?

AS: I think the first time I sang publicly was that pivotal moment for me. That was at Steel Bridge Songfest in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin; up until that point I considered myself to be strictly a lyricist. I was very fortunate in that the first audience I performed for was incredibly supportive and generous with their feedback.

PD: Did you discover this on your own, or did someone or something inspire you to develop a passion into the gift you have today?

AS: I think I can safely say that the ONLY reason I started writing and singing was that I had the good fortune of crossing paths with people who saw potential in me that I myself was unaware of. Probably the most influential person in that regard was Pat Macdonald, a brilliant songwriter who I met in San Francisco.  Pat and I became fast friends. One night, I offhandedly mentioned to him that I had an idea for a song, but no idea how to write it. He called me the next morning to ask if I would like help writing that song. We wrote “If You Only Knew” via speakerphone and text message in a matter of hours. Several months later, Pat was also the one who got me singing publicly by refusing to take my name off the list of performers for Steel Bridge Songfest (the festival Macdonald co-founded in 2005 with his sister, Christie Weber).  I must have called him every day for two weeks before the festival, begging him to take my name off the list of performers…but he insisted that I trust him, and I’m glad I did.

PD: We are interested in the path you took to become the artist you are today. Can you jot down a short history of yourself as a musician?

AS: I started writing lyrics in 2006 at the age of 22; up until that point, my musical experience was limited to several years of classical piano training as a child. At 22, I was living in San Francisco—studying to be a midwife—when, through a series of bizarre events, I ended up playing keyboards in a band called Katdelic Revival with members of P-Funk.  I was way out of my league musically—these people were all very accomplished musicians—and I was only with the band for a few months, but it was through that experience that I reconnected with my good friend and master guitarist Eric McFadden, who introduced me to Pat Macdonald, who got me started writing lyrics.  It was a few months later, at Steel Bridge Songfest, that I started singing. 

PD: How did you find yourself in the small town of Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, so far from home?

AS: I first came to Wisconsin in June 2006, when Pat invited me to be one of 25 songwriters to hole up in the Holiday Motel for the week preceding the second annual Steel Bridge Songfest; they had erected a recording studio in one of the motel rooms, and we ended up writing and recording over 60 original songs in four days.  The workshop—which Pat dubbed the “Construction Zone”—was so magical for me that I approached Pat with the idea of gathering investors, buying a motel somewhere, putting in a recording studio and hosting songwriting events year-round.  Pat loved the idea, and pointed out that the Holiday Motel was for sale…six weeks later, I packed up my life in San Francisco and moved to Sturgeon Bay. It took the better part of a year, but in May 2007 the newly formed Holiday Motel Management, LLC—a group of musicians and music enthusiasts that included Pat, his sister Christie, Jackson Browne, myself and a number of other people—purchased the Holiday. 

PD: Can you describe your role with the Steel Bridge Songfest and how it influenced you as a musician? 

AS: SBSF is an entirely volunteer-run festival, which relies on the year-round efforts of a dedicated core group of individuals. As the manager of the Holiday Motel, my role in the festival planning was pretty limited to the overlap between SBSF and the Holiday, which is home each year to the songwriters that participate in the week-long songwriting events that take place in conjunction with the festival.  As for the influence of SBSF on me as a musician, it has been the greatest gift…through SBSF, I have met so many talented songwriters and performers, and gotten to write with many of them, which is pretty rare for someone as new to music as I am. Those opportunities came to me almost entirely as a result of SBSF, and I will always be grateful for that. 

PD: Has the move to California from the Midwest affected your music at all?

AS: To be honest, I haven’t written anything since I moved. I have started playing the baritone ukulele thanks to my friend Lynda Kay Parker, an amazing songwriter I was lucky enough to meet at SBSF a couple of years ago, and who lives in Venice, about a mile from my new home. Lynda loaned me a ukulele and taught me enough chords to get me started writing music—it’s a whole new ballgame, as up until now I’ve been totally dependent on other musicians to help me turn my lyrics into songs. I love the collaborative process and have been influenced in some way by everyone I’ve ever written with, and I can only hope that some of their collective brilliance has rubbed off on me in some way as I start writing my own songs. 

PD: What music are you listening to now and do you foresee it informing your music in any way?

AS: I have been listening to a lot of bossa nova recently…a lot of Astrud Gilberto, Stan Getz, Antônio Carlos Jobim, and João Gilberto, to name a few. Astrud Gilberto has been a huge inspiration for me, because she beautifully demonstrates the fact that you don’t have to have a rafter-raising voice to have dramatic impact as a singer. Coming to that realization has been hugely liberating for me, having frequently derailed myself in the past by comparing my voice to much bigger, stronger voices…and that is a total waste of energy.  I’m not a belter, just like I’m not a six-foot blonde. It’s an immense relief to accept yourself for exactly who you are—and are not—and to embrace the challenge of using the tools you have to their fullest potential.

PD: Is the world kind to a female musician such as yourself?  What was it like being a female musician in the small town of Sturgeon Bay?

AS: I can only speak from my limited personal experience, which has been blessed. Spending three years in Sturgeon Bay, where I first started performing, was an ideal beginning for me in a lot of ways; being such a small town, it provided me with the unique opportunity of growing as a writer/performer in the presence of a very supportive community of songwriters and music lovers, many of whom were present at my very first performance and were willing and able to give me constructive feedback as I evolved musically.  I am so thankful for that time and that community of people. 

PD: You were instrumental in building a community for singer-songwriters in Sturgeon Bay. What moved you to do this, and were you surprised at the success of your efforts?

AS: Door County has, from my understanding, always been home to an inordinate number of talented artists of all kinds. When Steel Bridge Songfest was founded in 2005 as an awareness-building and fundraising effort to save Sturgeon Bay’s historic steel drawbridge from the wrecking ball, it had the additional impact of putting Sturgeon Bay on the map as a music destination. A little over a year into my time in Sturgeon Bay, Pat approached me and Adam Mackintosh (my fiancé and an amazing songwriter, who I met at SBSF in 2006) about hosting a songwriter showcase at a local café.  We gave it a try, and it quickly grew beyond our expectations…it was a forum for an eclectic and ridiculously talented mix of local and visiting songwriters, and provided them with a supportive listening audience.

PD: Do you have any recommendations for our readers…What film has inspired your work most? 

AS: That’s a tough call, but probably the documentary “I’m Your Man,” about Leonard Cohen’s life and work. 

PD: What piece of visual art has inspired your music?

AS: The day I left Sturgeon Bay, my dear friend Stephanie Trenchard gave me a piece of her glass art…Stephanie tells these incredible stories through glass. The piece she gave me is this beautiful glass block encasing a sculpture of a chair, which to me invokes the feeling of a completely safe creative space.  Words do not do it justice, but there it is. 

PD: What other musicians, only recently on your radar, have made you excited?

I have met so many incredible musicians over the past few years…I hesitate to list only a few for fear of leaving anyone out, so instead I’m going to encourage people to check out www.steelbridgesongfest.org, which has links to the music of many of the brilliant songwriters I’ve been privileged to meet through the festival.

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Listen to a sampling of Anna Sacks' music:

To find out more about Anna Sacks and listen to her music, visit her website  www.annasacksmusic.com

For more information on the Holiday Music Motel visit the website: www.holidaymusicmotel.com

Photography has kindly been provided by Marybeth Mattson, Ty Helbach, and Erika Seress.

Chastity Brown’s robustly-rooted songs have an irresistible audible nearness, and a striking candor I imagine many musicians aspire to but rarely achieve. Whether she is backed by drums, harmonica, or saxophone her voice pours over her guitar with a deep honesty inspired by harsh truths she has lived through and studied throughout her young life. Chastity turns truths into beautiful stories we must believe in and listen to carefully; stories of her past echo the solid, happy groove, tinged with tiny bits of sadness, and land a firm grip upon what’s important in life.

I meet Chastity at a south Minneapolis pub on a busy Saturday evening to discuss exactly where she is now with her music, and how she has evolved into the musician she is today, a singer who is one of Minneapolis’ most promising young artists. Chastity moved to Minneapolis five years ago at the age of 22, but she hails from Tennessee, where her stepfather worked at the Goodyear tire plant in Union City, two hours north of Memphis. According to Wikipedia, Union City has a population of about 10,000 and is famous for two things: the Goodyear plant, and having been the location of a minor Civil War battle in 1864.  But Chastity doesn’t mention anything about the Civil War battle when she meets Paper Darts Magazine’s co-founder Jamie Millard and I to chat and discuss her upcoming album.

“I left Tennessee because I needed to experience a new region. I absolutely love the place and found the decision quite difficult. My musician friends there are pretty freakin’ gifted writers. This filtered its way through my system and remained a foundation, the root, for where I am now.” 

Before answering a question, Chastity’s face bends into a deeply pensive expression that worries the inexperienced professional conversationalist inside of me, but culminates in a thoughtful and friendly answer. When I ask if she prefers playing live shows to recording albums, she explains that to play live requires a kind of repetitive energy that “is where it’s at with this type of music. It’s all about roots, rhythm, story. Something that will offend you, something that will make you cry, whatever. That is kind of where we are right now,” she says, and I get the feeling that that’s where Chastity and her band plan to stay.

Jenna Beyer: You mentioned that you’re getting more critical of your music, and that your newest work has more layers than ever before. Do you feel like the new album is not a plateau or a peak, but perhaps a summit on your musical path?

Chastity Brown: Yeah. My last album, Sankofa, was really dark. But my creative process wanted me to be really honest first. It was really about me. There were other stories, it wasn’t all “me me me” [she strums a fake guitar]. But there were some key elements—like race, being a mixed woman, sexual abuse. I completely laid that out and I never want to sing that again, but it was all me. This [new] album is a broader scope and you have these experiences that trigger this one thought and it becomes another piece. I definitely feel like I have grown and I hope that translates.

JB: Do you feel that artists have inherent talents or gifts, or do you believe an artist must simply grow and develop through hard work?

CB: I think that each needs the other because early on you recognize that you have talent or you desire to play. You know you want to write or to play even if you don’t know how. I feel like it’s in my blood and it is so a part of me…it developed into an obsession. “How can I get better? What do I need to know to get better? Who will teach me?”

And it has to do with identity. That is how I became myself. I feel a lot, and I can’t cut that off, and this was my only way to filter through things. I went to this play a few months ago and I saw this 11-year-old kid sing “His Eyes on a Sparrow” [a Gospel classic made famous by various soul singers] and I was just blown away. You know that feeling—that child can sing. So I feel that at some point in my early teens I had a realization that I can do this or I have a connection in this way.

JB: It seems that artists have several moments when it becomes clear to them that their art can move an audience. When was your moment?

CB: I think I have been slow to learn that. I would replace the word ‘move’ with ‘connect.’ I just started playing at friend’s houses, at parties and stuff. Folks would want to talk about what I sang, how it made them feel. I realized that by me singing what I feel is honest to me…something magical happens when you open a space with honesty and no bull-shit.

JB: Next, I ask her about the position of the soul singer in the Amy Winehouse age. Chastity worries for a moment about sounding offensive and then responds at our urging.

CB: “Soul singer” has become this broad term, because back in the day it was like a black people’s way of singing. And there are all sorts of people I’m listening to right now who are white and have this soul voice, and I’m buying their albums and stuff. But you go into any church in the South and you can find a black woman who has a soulful voice. But someone like Amy Winehouse sells out because she belts it out.

Back in the days of Nina Simone, they were singing in response and they were really freaking active with what was going on. So now they are like icons. But soul singers today just do that “ooh” and “ahh.” Seventy-eight percent of blues has always been about relationships and sex and that has always been kind of this common theme and when you have these soul singers today, that theme becomes natural. But someone like Mary J. Blige is the soul singer of our generation because she taps into the emotions of sexuality, getting over drug addiction, et cetera. And the fucking honesty, it is deep. Whereas the media’s market is on R&B relationship stuff.

JB: I inquire further about the “selling out” aspect, and ask her if the desire to not go commercial is still a part of the music, or if it has been separated.

CB: Well, that was a way to get respect as a black person, just barely. [Back then] if you made it as a black person you might get a little more clout. You might be able to do what you love. But now, all the music I love now and the folks that I dig, that whole scenario can never be replayed because of media and technology.

JB: It seems kind of backwards. They didn’t have as much money, but they weren’t selling out as much. It is different to be broke now, maybe because more people are selling out now.

CB: Yeah. Capitalism, woooo! [all laugh] Ultimately, if I could make a living playing music that would be my goal—do it on a grassroots level and make connections. Tom Waits plays all over the world, but do you know who his wife is, what he wears, what he eats? No. So maybe you can still put your album out there without selling out. There are just so many musicians out there. I apply to play at festivals and there are thousands of others applying too, like, “listen to me.”

Bob Marley, for example. Everyone listens to his music and smokes pot, but he stopped a fucking war in his country. But who actually knows that? When you mention Bob Marley everyone is like “oh yeah, that Rastafarian.” That is what commercialism does and I don’t want to be a part of that.

JB: Next I ask Chastity if she’s a ruthless editor of her recordings, or if she gets attached easily.

CB: Both. I get pretty defensive when someone wants to make a change because I’m like, “well, you weren’t fucking listening, because that’s what I wanted to do.” Last year I was at a completely different place, like I felt that if I didn’t record an album all my different songs would be lost. Now we want to capture again where we are. But the process is just grueling because, ultimately, I am the leader of the band and I am trying to drag the band through my thought process. I want there to be a hand-clap. I’m not sure where it will be, but I know it will be there. I am learning to be less defensive and thus Adam (the bassist) can have the freedom to suggest the perfect placement for such ideas.

JB: How are you preparing for your upcoming album?

CB: Rehearsal after rehearsal after rehearsal. Listening to Sam Cooke, The Be Good Tanyas, Ray LaMontagne, Nina Simone, Buddy Guy. I like the feeling of being in the same room as the musicians. And that is what we are trying to accomplish.

JB: What visual artists and musicians have excited you recently?

CB: Anne Meyer, a woman in St. Cloud. Saw some of her work for the first time this week and was in complete awe. Brilliant visual artist.

No Bird Sing, a local hip-group in Minneapolis. And Toshi Reagon. She takes hold of any genre of music and does what she wants with it.

JB: Wrapping up, I ask Chastity to describe her position on contemporary feminism, and the role of feminism in our current day and age.

CB: Well, now there are several different groups asking for the same thing. Now we can all band together and ask for the same thing and call out the bullshit. It isn’t just women. It’s minorities, low-income families, they can all tap into the same thing. I just see it as something so much more broad that we need to connect to as humans and tap into that.

For more information visit The Cedar Cultural Center.

Visit Chastity Brown's Myspace.

Interview by Jenna Beyer