Art has always been central to Jessica Leeland’s life.
“I’ve always done it,” she says. “My brother was an artist. My parents were artists.”
Music, theater, and psychology – together with the visual arts – shaped her early creative world, giving her what she calls “the arts in the whole realm of my life.”
That foundation eventually led Jessica to discover art therapy in college, something she “had no idea” existed until professors recognized her ability to connect with others and encouraged her to explore it.
Jessica soon realized that art could be used not just for expression, but to help people.
“That was my favorite thing, finding out that you could actually help people by utilizing it,” she says.
Choosing Education at a Critical Moment
Jessica initially planned to pursue clinical art therapy, but a sudden opportunity changed everything.
When a music teacher unexpectedly left a local elementary school, she was faced with a choice: continue the art therapy path, or help kids in a different, but related, way.
“I thought, ‘If I don’t jump now, I’ll never do it,’” she recalls.
Rather than waiting years to complete art therapy’s clinical requirements, Jessica chose to step into teaching and advocate for arts education where she felt it was missing.
“Kids need the tools now, in elementary,” she says.
In education, Jessica could give students access to creative tools early, before those opportunities disappear.
“You can still play sports and be an artist. You can still go be a doctor and be an artist. You just have to balance the schedule.”
Teaching as Creative Advocacy
In the classroom, Jessica merges artistic practice with therapeutic principles. She emphasizes pausing, reflecting, and making choices.
“It’s okay to pause,” she tells students. “And then watching them and hearing them speak the words, ‘no means no. Those are my boundaries.’ Those are healthy. This is OK.”
Jessica remembers one moment that confirmed she was exactly where she needed to be.
“A child told me they had never held a paintbrush before,” she says. “That was their first time painting. When that hit me, I knew I was meant to be here.”
Over time, she has seen the impact. Students repeat her language back to parents. Former 4H participants return and tell her, “You told me last year to do this.” For Leeland, those moments are everything.
“That’s game over for me,” she says. “That’s it.”
Her Own Studio Practice
Despite the demands of teaching and family life – she’s married with two kids – Jessica remains committed to her own art.
“If I don’t create for myself in a certain amount of time, I become bitter,” she says. “It’s me flushing my brain out.”
Her Art 634 studio is essential – a place where her brain knows it is time to create.
Jessica’s work spans life drawing, paint pouring, acrylic painting, and ongoing experimentation.
“I’m very much a try it out, test it kind of person,” she explains.
Much of her work is human-centered, shaped by anatomy, psychology, and emotional experience.
“It just needs to come out of me,” she says.
While her art began as something “for nobody but myself,” sharing it has become part of the process. Teaching, creating, and continuing to evolve are inseparable for Leeland.
“This is exactly what I was looking for,” she says.
For Gary Willcock, art is something built from the inside out.
His story begins with buildings.
“I studied architecture at the University of Michigan,” he says. “I worked for a company in Pontiac called Custom Home Design, for Architonics here in Jackson, and I used to moonlight doing drawings at night. I got into a lot of places, met a lot of people, did some fun things.”
Gary grew up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. As he moved around the state, he was raised in houses without plumbing or a refrigerator, where every wall and nail carried meaning.
“All those structures had a special place in my life,” he says. “After World War II, there was a huge building boom. Every vacant lot disappeared, and I got involved in it somehow. When my dad decided to build a house, I was part of that. I didn’t know anything about architecture, but I liked designing houses. They told me, ‘That’s an architect.’ So off I went.”
Even after he left formal architecture for design and engineering work, the mindset stayed.
“Wherever I’ve lived, I play with the building,” Gary says. “If I see an empty building, I start massaging it in my mind.”
Gary’s Living Sculpture
Gary and his wife Christie live on seven wooded acres south of Jackson, a place they call Wind Mountain.
“When I moved in here, this part of the house was just a covered slab,” he says. “I enclosed it, added a reverse gable, and kept going. Over the years, I’ve changed almost everything.”
He built patios, redesigned the kitchen, and drew every trim detail himself.
“This is all my design: the casing, the woodwork. I had it custom-made by the man who built my cupboards,” he says.
Christie calls their home “a living sculpture.” Gary agrees.
“At some point, I wanted my life to be a piece of art,” he says. “To live in this structure where I’ve created all this stuff. I’m walking through my own big sculpture, and it’s functional.”
Sculptures of Precision and Play
Gary’s sculptures merge precision and imagination.
“I’m rigid in some ways,” he laughs. “Right angles all the way. That’s from my mother: you didn’t color outside the lines.”
His background in product and machine design shows in the materials he chooses: anodized aluminum, steel, acrylic, and found parts.
“I think of machines as robots,” he says. “Even a car is a robot. A robotic horse.”
His fascination with robots goes back to childhood.
“For some reason, I never got rid of a toy robot I bought in about 1948,” Gary says. “I bought it at Montgomery Ward in Royal Oak. It cost a dollar.”
Years later, his oldest son found a reproduction and bought it for him, sparking a new collection.
“Then somebody else gave me one, and another, and pretty soon it became a thing,” he laughs. Now, robots, along with dogs, fill his shelves.
“They all have personalities,” he says. “Some of my sculptures do too.”
Light is another essential part of his work.
“I enjoy how it plays off different surfaces, how it bounces around through the holes,” he says. “Some pieces have lenses. You look in one end and out the other, like a telescope.”
His sculptures often carry names that hint at humor and personality: Light Scope, Nest, Red Foreman, SEA AWL.
“I’m corny,” he admits. “But I like it when people lean in to look. Art should make you curious.”
Champion of Local Art
Walk through Gary and Christie’s house, and every wall holds local art.
“If you want a creative community, you support it,” he says. “You show up to openings, you buy work when you can, you encourage people.”
“We buy it because we like it, not because we have to,” Christie adds. “The people who made this work are our friends.”
Gary smiles at that. “Art is connection. You don’t create in isolation.”
Making Meaning through art
After raising six children and working full-time, Gary returned to art in retirement.
“I had to work, so all this was on the back burner,” he says. “One day I told myself, ‘If you’re ever going to do something, you better get off your seat and do it now.’ ”
Now an active member of several local art communities and collectives, Gary continues to draw, design, and build.
“I think art gives meaning to life,” he says. “It reminds us to look closer, to pay attention, to see more.”
Known for his figurative and kinetic sculptures, Tim’s work blends whimsy with craftsmanship. His pieces often balance, spin, or sway – sometimes, just for fun.
“A lot of this stuff moves or has a purpose, but it’s not like a practical purpose,” he says. “I like the idea of making something that does something, but there’s really no reason for it.”
Early Creativity
Tim’s creative story begins far from Michigan, in the western U.S.
Growing up a creative kid in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and later spending time in Oregon, Tim was drawn to the outdoors and the tactile world of making things. His early fascination with Native American culture and ancient traditions, particularly those of the Hopi and Zuni tribes, shaped his artistic sensibility.
“We’d go to the dances at the Pueblo. That exposure made me more interested in a lot of different cultures,” he says.
Before sculpture became his calling, Tim built a career in construction and contracting. He specialized in marble and tile work, creating intricate inlays and custom medallions for homes and businesses in and around Naples, Florida.
“I always liked working with my hands,” he explains. “I started doing tile and marble, and then I’d make tables with inlays. It was creative, but it was also practical.”
Those years, and those early cultural touchpoints, taught him the skills and worldview that would later define his art.
Experimentation and Autonomy
Tim never studied sculpture formally. Instead, he learned by doing.
“I definitely progressed because a lot of the earlier stuff, when I look at it now, it’s kind of rough,” he admits. “I guess it was just experimenting.”
That spirit of exploration remains central to his work. For Tim, art is freedom.
“You don’t have a boss telling you no,” he says. “You’re your own boss. If someone doesn’t like it, that’s fine. And if someone does, that’s great.”
Figurative and Kinetic Sculpture
Today, Tim is best known for his figurative and kinetic pieces. His portfolio (and his property) is filled with curious representations and characters. In his studio, he’s carving a standing wooden figure. Out in the yard, there’s a head made of stone.
“To me, figurative art is more appealing. I don’t like abstract,” he says. “I always like just having an idea and thinking, ‘I’d like to see it actually exist.’ It’s almost like an invention.”
Tim’s studio in rural Jackson is a workshop of constant motion. He works with reclaimed materials, metal scraps, and wood, often starting with a single piece that sparks an idea.
“It’s the fun part to pick something up and then actually make it,” he says. “After it’s done, I’m not as worried about it anymore.”
Beyond his studio, Tim is an active presence in mid- and southeast Michigan’s art scene. He exhibits regularly in Detroit-area galleries and participates in local shows that bring together regional artists.
His work has become a familiar highlight at community art events, where its playful energy draws both collectors and casual viewers.
Brigit, his wife, sums up his appeal simply: “Tim’s work makes you smile. It’s clever and full of life.”
For Tim, that playfulness is the point.
“Either way, I just like making things,” he says. “If someone connects with it, that’s even better.”
Just a few years ago, Jen Dixon couldn’t brush their teeth, let alone imagine being surrounded by community and creativity.
“I was agoraphobic for five years,” they explain. “Didn’t meet people. I was training for COVID before COVID.”
The isolation was deepened by chronic illness, pain, and years of battling to be seen—not just as a person living with disabilities, but also as a nonbinary creative with a past shaped by trauma and tenacity.
Today, Jen stands surrounded by microscopes, T-shirts, illuminated signs, handmade cellular art, and a growing circle of collaborators who genuinely believe in them.
“Right now, I think the real art is learning to trust myself again,” they say.
A Scientific Soul in a Maker’s World
Jen’s path hasn’t followed any straight lines. They first studied computer programming while working full-time and caring for a terminally ill fiancé.
But after a near-death experience caused by a massive blood clot following a roller derby injury, they re-evaluated everything.
“I remember crawling across the floor thinking, ‘This is your last moment. Experience it,’” Jen recalls. “And after surviving that, cubicles just weren’t going to cut it.”
What followed was a dive into botany, volunteering at Iowa State’s herbarium, and eventually entering a PhD program.
Their love of science came with an endless hunger to understand.
“One of my professors said I was an artist with the soul of a scientist,” they say. “That felt true.”
Jen’s artistic practice came to life while teaching plant systematics in Iowa.
When a visually impaired student entered their classroom, Jen faced a challenge: how to share the microscopic beauty of cellular structures with someone who couldn’t see them?
That night, they created a clay version of a microscope slide and transformed invisible wonders into tactile art. If the student couldn’t see the cell, then they would be able to feel it.
“I don’t know how well it worked for her,” they say, “but for me, it unlocked something. It made me think: what if everyone could feel this beauty?”
Creating with Curiosity, Sharing with Empathy
From there, Jen’s art grew out of curiosity and constraint. While bedridden, they began sketching detailed cellular forms in Procreate, finding comfort in radial symmetry and microscopic inspiration.
Eventually, they started laser-engraving these intricate images into wood and velvet.
“I just wanted to see if it would work,” they say. “It was all experimentation.”
Jen’s art now includes protest T-shirts, building signage, velvet-burned botanical forms, and tactile pieces made of wood and reused materials.
“It all came from wanting people to experience wonder—even if they can’t see it the traditional way,” Jen explains. “There’s got to be a way to share that.”
Today, Jen’s studio is a living lab—a DIY playground of soldered lights, etched acrylic, scavenged pipe supports, and refurbished microscopes.
“Everything is a version one,” they laugh. “The next version will be better, but I have to start somewhere.”
Building a Community That Builds You Back
Jen is now helping to build a community at The Sparks (formerly the Commercial Exchange), where collaboration drives creativity and progress.
From teaching others how to build and reusing materials to organizing artist showcases, they’ve found their voice again.
“I used to think I didn’t have any value unless I met society’s expectations,” they say. “Now I just try stuff. And it’s working. All these different paths in my life, they have all culminated into skills and work that’s relevant and useful.”
Even through lingering self-doubt and social anxiety, Jen persists – out into the sun and into an artistic team.
“I’m deciding how I engage with the world now,” they said. “I see the potential for the future, even if it’s scary. I catch the future out of the corner of my eye. And I’m scared to look right at it because it may disappear.”
Inside the welcoming walls of 21 Blooms Tattoo Studio, Dylan Sodt (he/they) is quietly reshaping how people see themselves, one piercing at a time.
Dylan is a piercer, but that barely scratches the surface. For them, piercing is not just a form of body modification. It’s a practice of empowerment, trust, and transformation.
“I can build a little home with people in 30 minutes,” they say. “It creates a ritual environment. It’s an energetic exchange. They’re trusting me—and that’s when I think I have the best job.”
Born and raised in Jackson, Dylan’s path to piercing was anything but linear. He started by sketching the human figure as a kid and later found creative expression as a drummer in local bands. For much of his adult life, Dylan worked in restaurants, eventually managing the bar and kitchen at Sandhill Crane Vineyards. But even while building menus and leading teams, a deeper pull was growing.
“I hit a point where I needed something new,” he recalls.
Just two days after leaving the vineyards, he began a piercing apprenticeship.
“Piercing found me,” Dylan says.
Precision Meets Purpose
That leap of faith led them into a world where artistic intuition and technical precision are inseparable. Their practice is steeped in anatomy, geometry, and material science.
“It’s engineering on a smaller scale,” Dylan says.
Before he started working with Lauren Maureen of Emerald Sun Studios, Dylan had to start at the beginning: an apprenticeship.
Apprenticeship is the cornerstone of ethical piercing, and Dylan’s journey was a slow and deliberate one.
“You don’t even touch a needle for months. You learn the biology of wound healing, jewelry angles, and sterilization.”
But even more than technique, piercing is about people. Dylan specializes in body reclamation: helping those who have experienced trauma, abuse, or body dysmorphia reconnect with themselves.
“I want clients to feel more empowered when they leave here,” they say. “I’ve had clients squeal when they see themselves in the mirror. That sound? It means everything.”
Their work is artistic and deeply personal. Dylan observes each client closely: how they dress, carry themselves, the undertones of their skin, hair, and eye color.
“I have 30 minutes to clock your style,” he says. “It’s like painting on someone else’s canvas. Then it walks out the door and lives a whole life.”
From simple lobe studs to advanced curated ear setups, every piece is placed with aesthetic intention and precision measured in millimeters.
“We have to create the illusion of symmetry. If it’s off, people will feel it. Others will notice.”
Confidence, Care, and Ritual
Empowerment doesn’t come without responsibility. Dylan sees self-confidence as a professional obligation.
“You need a god complex to do this work—not arrogance, but self-respect,” they say. “You have to put clients at ease. There’s no room for shaky hands.”
They draw on Buddhist practices like breathwork and meditation to stay grounded and present, offering their clients not only a piercing, but also a moment of calm and clarity.
Outside the studio, Dylan finds creative joy in cooking—“an art form that doesn’t belong to me,” they say. “It’s all colors and flavors, and then it’s gone in 15 minutes.”
They surround themself with earth tones, thrifted treasures, and houseplants, always seeking to breathe new life into the old. That ethos flows directly into their work.
“What I do gives people a new image of themselves,” they say.
Community and Collaboration at 21 Blooms
At 21 Blooms, Dylan has found a creative home. The studio, owned by Emily Radke and envisioned as a hub for full-time piercers, is more than a workplace.
It’s a collaborative sanctuary.
“We push each other here,” Dylan says. “We talk through designs, hold critique nights. There’s a vulnerability in that, but it makes us all better.”
For them, the studio is also a commitment to raising the standard in Jackson.
“This city deserves a proper piercing space. If you get pierced by me, I consider you a client forever. I’m an island of proper piercing.”
Looking ahead, Dylan is pursuing certification with the Association of Professional Piercers (APP), a national standard of excellence in the field.
“There’s no ceiling in this work. You can always get better,” they say.
From the restaurant floor to the piercing chair, and no matter their tools, Dylan has always been in the business of care.
“I’m in service of an idea,” they say. “That people can see themselves differently. That they can walk out of here and feel like they belong to themselves again.”
Creativity and transformation define Logan Swoffer’s artistic journey.
As both a musician and printmaker, his artistic evolution is deeply tied to his lived experiences that were shaped by hardship, discovery, and ultimately, a second chance at life.
His near-death experience in 2023 profoundly changed his perspective, instilling a newfound appreciation for beauty and a drive to create.
Finding His Path
Logan was born in Jackson, Michigan, but his journey took an early turn when he moved to Arizona with his mother and stepfather in the fifth grade.
Settling in Deer Creek near Flagstaff, he discovered his passion for music at 14, picking up the guitar and finding that creativity “flipped on like a light switch.” He also dabbled in graffiti and doodling, though his artistic pursuits remained mostly informal at the time.
In 2005, after high school, Logan began traveling back and forth between Arizona and Michigan. Eventually, he and his mother left Arizona for good, escaping a difficult situation with his stepfather. He reconnected with his biological father, a poet and printmaker, and the more time they spent together, the more Logan saw their similarities.
“He was a scoundrel, so I come by that naturally,” he jokes.
His father’s work in printmaking would later become a major influence on Logan’s artistic career.
During this period, Logan became immersed in the local Jackson music scene while working various jobs, including a long stint in medical billing. Music remained a core part of his identity, but his artistic journey had yet to fully take shape.
A Life-Changing Liver Transplant
Years of heavy drinking caught up with Logan in 2023 when he fell critically ill.
At the time, he was working at Unleashed and Loving It when he began experiencing aches and fatigue. Friends and coworkers noticed his declining health, but it wasn’t until his mother intervened that he finally sought medical help.
Doctors diagnosed him with hepatic encephalopathy, a life-threatening condition caused by liver failure. Days away from death, Logan was rushed to Detroit for a liver transplant in May 2023.
Reflecting on this experience, he describes it as a complete transformation.
”I didn’t do a 180; I vanished and came back a different person,” Logan says. “One week you’re going to die, then you go to sleep and wake up a changed person. It’s a beautiful thing.”
His recovery was swift, but the experience left a profound impact on his outlook. Now immunocompromised and managing ongoing health risks, Logan embraces his “new normal” with gratitude and determination.
A New Artistic Purpose
Following his transplant, Logan found himself drawn to beauty in a way he never had before. Seeing an Instagram post about printmaking ignited a deep passion within him.
“It lit me up like a firecracker,” he says.
Though he had never considered himself a visual artist, he quickly embraced the medium, exploring printmaking, watercolor, and mixed media.
“Maybe I got a bit of my liver donor’s soul, but something changed,” Logan says. “I saw things I didn’t use to see.”
His art often blends delicate floral imagery with bold political statements, advocating for trans rights and marginalized communities.
“Print is the perfect vessel. I can put it up wherever I want. Say what I want. The pointedness is out of necessity,” he says.
While he strives to balance political messages with beauty, he acknowledges that art is a powerful tool for activism.
Sobriety and Moving Forward
Logan’s sobriety is deeply tied to his gratitude for the second chance he’s been given.
“I do it out of respect for my donor, who died and gifted me with this new lease on life,” he says.
He has since built a strong community of sober friends who support one another in their shared commitment to a healthier lifestyle. Since January 2024, Logan has been working out of Art 634, where he’s found another supportive and inspiring community.
“You could make art anywhere, but going to a creative space? I just love it here,” he says.
He hopes to contribute to Jackson’s cultural revival by expanding his reach through zines, exhibitions, and collaborative projects.
Looking ahead, Logan remains focused on growing his artistic presence.
“I could’ve gotten into archery or race cars, but I saw that printmaking video, and that’s what stuck,” he says.
Through music and printmaking, Logan channels his gratitude, using art as both a personal outlet and a means to inspire others.
When Madison McCarver walked into 21Blooms Tattoo Studio in Jackson, portfolio in hand, she was terrified.
She was looking to leave her job in Toledo, where she had apprenticed and worked as a tattoo artist, but she wanted to be closer to home in Ann Arbor.
Taking a deep breath, she introduced herself to the 21Blooms team, laid out her work, and braced for rejection.
Instead, they simply asked, “When can you start?”
It was a moment of validation for Madison, who believes she manifested the life she wanted—one filled with good people, a welcoming environment, and creative freedom.
“This is a good environment,” she says. “Usually, I want to leave work and go home, but here, we’re hanging out in the studio until 8 p.m. because we love what we do.”
From Fine Arts to Tattooing
Art has always been Madison’s escape. As a child, she dabbled in fine arts, portraiture, and even fashion design. In school, her art teachers recognized her talent and submitted her work to competitions, boosting her confidence.
Though she once dreamed of moving to Los Angeles to study fashion, life took a different turn when she enrolled at Washtenaw Community College, where she fell in love with figurative arts and painting.
In 2020, stuck at home during the pandemic, Madison often found herself painting and drawing for 10 hours a day—until burnout set in.
Looking for a change, she took a job at a beauty spa in 2021 but quickly realized the environment wasn’t for her. When she got her first tattoo that year, something clicked. Madison realized tattoo art could become a career.
She started her tattoo apprenticeship that same year, driving from Ann Arbor to Toledo three times a week, practicing on fake skin for nearly a year before moving on to real clients. By 2022, she had graduated from her apprenticeship and officially entered the industry.
Now, three years in, she’s found her rhythm.
“This industry has its challenges, but at the end of the day, I get to draw on people,” Madison says. “Now, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”
Artistic Style Fusion
Madison’s art is a fusion of influences: her mother’s love of Rococo, the powerful works of Kehinde Wiley, and the delicate textures of Laura Brevner’s feminine portraits.
She leans into period fashion, the female form, and a mix of vibrant, poppy colors with classic undertones.
Music also plays a significant role in her creative process, from ‘70s funk and soul to modern pop.
“Music influences how I create art. I’m both visual and auditory,” she says. “And that’s my style: colorful, poppy, but classic.”
Teaching and Future Aspirations
Early in her tattoo career, Madison needed a way to make ends meet, so she took a job as a painting instructor at a paint-and-pour studio. Teaching helped her develop patience, communication skills, and a fresh perspective on art.
One moment that stuck with her was working with an older couple who doubted their abilities.
“I had to reassure them: ‘It doesn’t have to look like mine,’” she says.
When they later told her she was an excellent teacher, it reminded her of the impact art—and encouragement—can have on people’s lives.
Looking ahead, Madison wants to continue exploring new artistic avenues. She still paints and is learning oil techniques, dreams of a solo art show, and even dabbles in fashion and cosplay. While tattooing remains her main focus, she hopes to blend her passions in unexpected ways.
“My canvas is skin, but I still love painting,” she says. “I just have to figure out how to meld the two.”
Madison manifested art into her life. Now she can’t live without it.
“If I don’t have art, I might die,” she laughs.
Luckily, at 21Blooms, she’s found a community that supports her growth, shares clients based on specialties, and encourages creativity.
Ten years ago, I introduced my first big creative portrait project called Artists In Jackson. Through that project, I got to know our local artists. Together, we told their stories and let our community know we have a talented bunch of people right here in our hometown.
And – bonus! – I met and made some good friends along the way.
Since then, a lot has changed. I worked on a spiritual sequel, Musicians In Jackson, and then the pandemic hit. Here we are five years later, and I’m happy to announce I’m working on my next big portrait project, Artists In Jackson 2.
This one will be a little different. Instead of disappearing for six months and re-emerging with a fancy book and a bunch of pictures, I want to treat this project more like a platform.
Here’s how it works:
Over time, I’ll work on photo subjects and help tell their stories.
You will see these profiles periodically as I work on them and get them done. You don’t have to wait for a book – you’ll see my progress as it’s happening, either on social media or my website.
And it will just keep going. There’s no end, there’s no finish line. Artists In Jackson becomes a platform to tell stories, not a website or a book.
At a point in time, when I have enough profiles done, I can collect them all and make a book or a ‘zine of some kind.
But that’s not the goal. The goal is to tell stories about creative people in our community.
And I have some profiles already set up to publish – one, reaching back several years, on Dione Tripp (above). Others I have a head-start on and you’ll see those soon. As always, I’m open to your ideas and tips on creative people in and from Jackson.
I hope you’ll join me in this new experiment. I’m excited to once again share these homegrown artists, their work, and their stories.
I’m kissing Squarespace goodbye and moving my two portrait projects to my blog. Instead of sending web traffic somewhere else, Artists In Jackson and Musicians In Jackson—as they’re updated—will live here, where visitors can learn more about my other projects.
As I was putting together the project landing pages, I remembered JTV’s Bart Hawley Show featured Musicians In Jackson late in 2019, but I never shared that conversation on this blog.
As I plan for my next portrait project, the idea of renting a studio space keeps popping up. Wouldn’t it be nice to have my own dedicated creative space, instead of relying on environmental portraits at other people’s studios or homes?
So I started shopping around, and asking friends and colleagues about potential studios.
The kicker is the set of conditions I’ve set on myself: strong window light, with an east or west-facing window, semi-centrally located in Jackson (for easy access), plenty of wiggle room for materials, and convenient availability to fit my work and family schedule. I’ve seen a few places around town that fit the bill, but another complication is that I’ll only need the space for a month or two. If I rent, I’m not sure how many landlords would be up for a 60 day lease.
But we’ll see. I’m starting to make phone calls and get my bearings. It’s a whole new world.
My dear artistic friend Colleen here (one of the artists featured!) is helping me with event and art details. It’s a great location, and I can’t wait to throw a big party for all my new artistic comrades.
I’ve been on an eBook kick lately. This one is a product of my 2014 portrait project with the guys from the Central Michigan Model Railroad Club that first appeared on this blog.
Now, it’s a free eBook, available as a PDF download or an Apple iBook.
This is the project that kickstarted my community-focused portrait projects, like Artists In Jackson. It was fun to revisit this project and see the guys again.
“This place lacks confidence. That comes out in so many ways, and it’s important to me for people to recognize that they’re valuable.”
A few years back, while living out west, Doug Jones came across an art gallery in Sante Fe, New Mexico, and noticed the gallery was featuring a single artist.
Doug was attracted to the work’s bright and bold colors, so he walked in. After talking with the gallery director, he found out the artist – who was selling his work for thousands of dollars – was from a little town in Michigan.
The town? Doug’s town. Our town. Jackson, Michigan.
That discovery got Doug thinking.
“There was this fire inside of me that wondered, ‘Why do I have to move away from Jackson? Why can’t someone make it as an artist here?’”
Now, it’s almost a mission for him: finding untapped potential and creativity, and letting it loose on the world.
It wasn’t always that way for Doug, a corporate lawyer turned community developer turned painter and art community organizer. He was going to turn his University of Michigan education into big money somewhere outside of Jackson.
But a couple of things happened that brought him back. For one, a trip to New York during college switched on the aesthetic part of his brain. For two, working at Lifeways helped him identify with the needs of the community, spiritually and artistically.
“I found myself surrounded by incredible history and remarkable talent in Jackson,” Doug says. “And people here didn’t seem to recognize it. So I started to encourage people around me to paint.”
That encouragement came in the form of live painting and art events – bringing creative people out of the wilderness, in a sense. It all comes from understanding what the power of positive reinforcement and encouragement can do.
“I remember what it was like when someone first took notice of me,” Doug says. “If I can encourage someone to do something positive, I’m passing on the beauty and blessings that I’ve been given.”
Personally, art acts as an outlet for the suffering and pain Doug sees in the world. Working with Lifeways and other non-profits, he saw and heard gut-wrenching stories from clients about pain and loss. He saw a tough guy break down in front of him, and he helped a girl struggling with suicide.
“I saw things that helped me realize how fleeting life can be,” Doug says. “With all the stuff going on around me, I have to get it out and do something with it.”
Doug recognizes the pressures that a small, blue-collar town can put on up-and-coming artists. Helping artists realize that what they’re doing is valuable? That’s the goal.
“That self-actualization makes my entire world better,” he says. “It lets me know that the generations that come after us will be better because of what’s happening today.”
While there is more happening in the Jackson arts community – a Public Arts Commission, more and more shows popping up, collectives (like his own, The Singularity) forming – Doug sees a lack of self-confidence in town. One way to help is to bring in more creative professionals from outside.
“People recognize what Jackson has on the outside,” he says. “We just need people here to feel that, too.”
“It’s true for most artists, but I’m an extremely emotionally-driven artist. I want people to feel something when they look at it. I put my heart and soul into what I do.”
You don’t have to look far to find great talent, says Melissa Morse.
“All the real artists aren’t in the big cities,” she says. “They’re everywhere you go. And we have our own arena of talent here in Jackson.”
Melissa would know. As a painter and mixed media artist, she’s seen what it’s like to be an artist in the biggest city – New York. She traveled to the Big Apple in college and lived there for many years as an artist.
After several years in New York, she came back to Jackson wiser and embraced her home community.
“It was the best thing for me, to stay in Jackson and raise my daughter,” Melissa says. “Coming back here, you realize that you can run all over looking for a place to be happy. But if you have inner peace, you can be happy in Jackson.”
Melissa explores happiness, loss, and faith through her art. She’s also a bit of a self-made artist, stretching her own canvases and creating her own frames from recycled materials.
“I think it makes for a better product. You put more into it,” she says.
Putting more into her art is a goal, Melissa says, whether that’s trying out new styles or putting pieces together to make something new. It helps her express what’s inside.
“It’s true for most artists, but I’m an extremely emotionally driven artist,” Melissa says. “I want people to feel something when they look at it. I put my heart and soul into what I do.”
And as is true for most people, that heart and soul can go through dark times. That’s where art can help, like when Melissa lost her parents.
Melissa participated in Grand Rapids’s ArtPrize showcase the year after her mother died. Melissa doubted that she was even worthy of being there. But the year before, her mother encouraged her to participate in the event.
“There was so much healing in that,” Melissa says. “It was a difficult journey, but in the end, when I was there and sharing my story, it was just what I needed to do.”
Being an artist involves going through ups and downs. It’s true of creatives everywhere. But it is possible to be successful in Jackson, Melissa says. Artists just have to be willing to communicate and work together.
Take art shows. She notices that when there’s low turnout at an area show, it’s often because people are what she calls “touch lazy.”
“I see a little bit of procrastination,” Melissa says. “Someone will say, ‘Maybe I’ll go to it,’ and then not show up. Something needs to shake it up a bit.”
In her own creative life, Melissa is the opposite of lazy. Recently, she became an art teacher for kids at Ella Sharp Museum during their summer camp series.
“It’s the best kind of challenge, working with kids that age. But it’s so rewarding,” she says. “When you can learn as much as the other people are learning, I really love that.”
“I would prefer to make guitars and give them away, if it was feasible to do that.”
For Stephen Ziegenfuss, it’s easy to love wood.
Its strength, its smell, even its taste – wood is a noble material to work with.
That’s why Stephen loves to make it sing as a guitar maker. An engineer by training, he loves to shape and bend the material into sonic works of art for his Ziegenfuss Guitars company.
Stephen has been building guitars since college when he tried making his own bass. From there, he built more guitars for friends and family, especially the parents of friends who could help him pay for parts.
“They kind of paid for my education – they’d pay for the materials that went into it,” he says.
From there, he worked on repairing guitars, learning about their inner workings, and before long he had a name brand and a website set up to sell his custom bodies.
More than that, Stephen likes to make things with his hands. Woodworking was prevalent in his home, he says, and he’s always enjoyed tinkering and making. That’s how he got into engineering. It was his artistic side – both in guitar playing and photography – that helped shape his guitar projects.
It started pragmatically enough. Stephen remembers seeing a guitar that he would’ve liked to own, if it weren’t for the high price tag. What would happen if he tried to mimic the design and build his own guitar?
“There’s a certain group of people with my personality who say, ‘I’ll just build it myself,'” he says. “Making a guitar was the perfect crossroads of all those things: working with my hands, engineering, and music.”
That first guitar didn’t exactly hit the mark. But over the years, he’s built his skills up enough so that he can build his own guitar at the level that originally inspired him.
Business-wise, Stephen is working on forming relationships with artists and getting name recognition in the boutique guitar industry. It’s one thing to make a quality guitar, but it’s another to make yourself known to the instrument-buying public.
When it comes right down to it, though, Stephen makes guitars to participate in the magic of music making. And to get his hands dirty in the process of making.
His senses get involved, too: Stephen loves the smell and the taste of the woods he uses, like African sapele (tastes great) and rosewood (the smell).
“The variability of the material is so cool,” Stephen says.
Walnut, cherry, sassafras, spruce, ash, hickory, walnut – these are his raw materials, and he appreciates the engineering quality of wood, too. Stephen says that wood, as a composite material, is great to work with. It’s robust and durable, and its strength-to-weight ratio is top-notch.
This is why Stephen makes other things out of wood, like bike frames. Stephen says he could make a bike frame that competes with metal in terms of durability. And, he says, the ride on a wood-frame bike is really smooth because the material absorbs high-frequency vibrations.
“Certain days, you just feel inspired to build different things,” he says. “And I love using wood as my medium.”
Stephen, along with his wife and three daughters, loves the lifestyle that Jackson affords.
“The pace of life here, for us, is just right,” he says. “If I were somewhere else, I wouldn’t nearly have the time to pursue things like this. It’s such a tremendous value added to life.”
Now that I’m a few weeks removed from launching my portrait project, Artists In Jackson, I thought it’d be helpful to share a few thoughts on the process – maybe for others thinking about tackling a self-published photo book.
I broke this down into sections, because there is a lot to think about and digest.
To Self Publish or Not To Self Publish
This one was easy for me: self publish!
It’s so easy these days to make and publish a photo book. There are vendors begging you to print with them. I get coupons all the time – 25% off, 75% off, a free book print to try out, etc.
My project was design- and text-intensive, so I needed a specific vendor to get my book finished. But if you just want to make a photo book, there are tons of options. If you have a Macintosh computer, Apple bundles Photos and a book-printing option as a default. VSCO has a super nice (and pricey) option. There’s My Publisher, MPix, Pinhole Press, and Blurb (my option).
You could go the professional publishing route, but chance are, if you’re reading this, that whole world is a mystery to you, too. And besides, who wants a box full of books gathering dust in their basement? Print on demand!
Print On Demand (Kind Of)
Speaking of which, I highly recommend print-on-demand services to keep costs and risk low. To a point.
Print-on-demand publishing means someone goes to a website or storefront and orders your book, and then it gets printed and shipped to them. This avoids the basement-book scenario. You don’t have to worry about inventory or unsold merchandise.
Now, I did it kind of half and half. I wanted an initial small press run of books delivered to me because I wanted to sign and customize them for the first batch of supporters. This involved a small bit of risk, because if I couldn’t sell that complete set of printed books, I’m stuck with the entire bill.
I had enough confidence to buy the initial batch, however, and once that runs out, I will send customers to the Blurb storefront to buy their on-demand copy.
Think of it as offering something special for your die-hard supporters, while still keeping the risk manageable. And through a service like Blurb, you can sell your book through Amazon, potential increasing your audience size.
Thinking About Your Audience
Who are you aiming for? What’s your customer base? Who would buy this thing you’re going to make? Who’s going to care?
It could be the marketing/communications professional in me, but one of the first things I thought about was my audience. I knew that if I photographed a large enough number of artists I could grow my audience base. How? Artists have friends and family, spouses, proud grandmothers, co-workers, etc. Each artist will tell their fan base, and word will spread.
Also, because my project was so community focused, the Jackson community itself became a target audience. If you care about Jackson, or you care about the arts community, you’re a potentially-interested person.
If you’re well-connected and well-known, this may not be such an issue for you. Your art may already have an audience. But if you’re a first-timer like me, this audience stuff matters. I didn’t want to make something and have it flop.
It also doesn’t decrease your artsy-ness by thinking about this kind of thing. If you make something great, and no one knows about it, and you want it to reach people, have you succeeded or failed? Or somewhere in between?
My project had a goal (increase awareness about artistic talent in our community), and so it had to have an audience that cared.
The M-Word
Marketing. I’ll start by saying that whether you like it or not, if you want your work to reach an audience, you have to have a bit of marketing involved. Sometimes, you have to be a megaphone.
For me, my marketing plan was comprehensive and multi-channeled. I used the website, Facebook, social media, email, and personal outreach to get the word out about Artists In Jackson. From there, the network effect kicked in. I had 15 artists who helped me reach a larger audience, and the artistic community took their message and spread it even farther.
I set it up in stages. First, I teased the project with a launch page and an email sign-up form. The artists knew what I was doing, but no one else did, so there was some mystery involved.
Then I published the About page on the website, and sent people there. “Look!” I said. “I have a project that I’m finishing up, and here are the basics!” That’s when the social media part came into play – I had something I could point to and share.
The landing page and about page helped me gather email addresses for my mailing list. These folks were the die-hards, the special ones, who bought in to the project. They got weekly updates from me, with little sneak peeks of the book’s progress.
From there, I published the Meet the Artists page to announce who was in the project. Now people could see faces attached to this project. I did this a week before the book launch to get people really talking. It helped with awareness, because this is the stage where the artists could kick their promotional messages into high gear.
And then it was a slow, steady rollout of the products: book pre-sale, book general public sale, eBook pre-sale, eBook general sale, magazine pre-sale, etc. This gave me a month of weekly promotional messages that gave people a specific way of supporting the project. The book begat the eBook begat the magazine. Boom, boom, boom.
I’ll add that groups like the local arts and cultural alliance and the chamber got word of the project and used their communication channels to talk about it. On and on it went, and the audience grew.
Why An Ebook and A Magazine
Easy: Affordability, and access. Not everyone can afford an $89 art book, so the magazine was a way for people to still enjoy a physical piece and saving some money.
It was a pain to layout the magazine. The size was different than the book, and it makes you reformat the pagination and design. But luckily the hard work – writing the stories, sizing the photos, etc. – was already done when I finished the book.
For the eBook, it was more of a way to experiment with the format. I had a chance to play with the iBook Store (and learn all its peculiarities and rules), which will help me on future projects. And I wanted a portable format for those on-the-go tablet folks.
As a multimedia professional, it just made sense to have different formats for Artists In Jackson. It increased the workload, yes, but I feel like it increased the audience size, too. Call it democratic self publishing.
Inventory and Mailing
My fear, as stated above, was that my basement would become a warehouse for these books. So while I split the difference and ordered some inventory, I kept it manageable.
The United States Postal Service (USPS) helped things by offering free mailing supplies (did you know?) and a great online service to order postage labels. It reminded me of the old days on eBay where you had to become a mailing service expert to move your merchandise.
I ordered 20 padded envelopes (free!) from USPS, and when a book order came in I’d buy a postage label, print it out, stuff the envelope with the book, and slap the label on. I’m lucky in that we have a post office here on the campus where I work, so I could just drop off the packages whenever I wanted.
USPS makes it easy to research shipping costs, too, so you know how much to charge your customers. This was vital – I had no idea what postage would be until I looked it up. Free envelopes, calculate the shipping, and send away. Really easy stuff.
Why USPS and not, say, FedEx? It’s totally political. I think our mail system should be run by the federal government, and I try to support the postage system – flawed and unfriendly as it may be – whenever I can.
Online Store
This was a fun part because I had the right e-commerce site. Gumroad is great to work with, and I got their name from @bleeblu after purchasing his eBook. Their markup is very reasonable, and I love the stats and metrics they offer. It became kind of addicting to see a new email from Gumroad pop into my inbox, telling me I just sold another book. It was very helpful to see where my sales came from (website? email? social media?), too.
For the eBook, Gumroad did all the hosting and handled all the downloading. They also make sending mail tracking numbers and receipts super easy. Gumroad is really made for digital goods, but I found they handled physical goods just as well.
For individual photo prints, I use Society6. They take care of all the printing and shipping, and I get to set my profit amount for each print. I don’t make much from prints, but I wanted to offer them to family members and the artists at an affordable price.
After my initial 25 book order runs out, I’m going to switch my online store to Blurb’s version. It’s not the prettiest, but it will serve my needs for those print-on-demand orders.
And everything – the project, the stores, everything – is hosted with grace and beauty by Squarespace. I can’t recommend them enough for creative projects and professionals.
What’s Next
Next, I’m focusing on getting the word out about the project, either through media outlets or art blogs. This is a step-by-step, methodical process: emailing contacts, submitting press releases, knowing who to get a hold of, etc. But I enjoy the work.
I’m also chatting with folks about hosting some events in town to bring the art and artists together. This area is totally out of my comfort zone. I am not an event organizer.
So I pulled in a few of the artists from the project who are experience in events (Hi, Kaiti and Colleen) to help me think through the logistics. Where to have it? Who to invite? Sell tickets? Have food? How to promote? Etc.
I’m also thinking about some speaking engagements, through local service clubs and the museum, to give some backstory on the project.
The big rush at the end of this year is to get the book in people’s hands and get the word out. In 2016, I’ll be focusing on the social and event aspects of the project.
Final Thoughts
Finally, the project was super fun, and a ton of work. It’s not just the photographing and interviewing that takes time. It’s the writing the profiles, editing the photos, sizing them according to the media, building the website, developing the marketing plan, designing the book – on and on. It was five solid months of hard work and late nights.
But. I’m super proud of how it turned out, and the feedback and support has been great. It’s also fun for me to do this stuff.
I tend to be risk-averse, both financially and in life. I didn’t want to go into this project blind and blow a bunch of money on something that I can’t recoup. Yes, risk is a part of any artistic project, but my ability to tolerate risk is low. So at every step in the project, I made sure that there would be creative and financial payoff.
At the least, I just wanted to cover my costs. This was not a money-making scheme. Far from it. If I calculated the time put in to the payout, I’m probably in the red.
That’s what a hobby is, though. It’s a big time and money sink that’s worth all of that as long as you enjoy yourself. With Artists In Jackson, I had the satisfaction of knowing that not only was I exercising my photography muscles, but I was doing something worthwhile for the community.
“I don’t like to be pushy with my art. If they want to come look, they can come look and bring their own viewpoint.”
Call Nicole Cure a natural. She never studied art, never felt like she worked hard at it, and even took a 10-year creative hiatus when her kids were born.
“I never worked hard at it. I was just born with a natural talent,” she says.
That talent is paying off now that Nicole runs a drawing and interior design business out of her home studio. She named the studio Ardis J Studio after her grandmother, Ardis Jane, from whom she inherited some of her artistic ability.
That natural talent does not mean Nicole doesn’t work hard on her sketches. She often spends 10 to 20 hours on each piece.
Her customers are now asking for more and more of her custom pieces and original work.
“It’s been fun and crazy busy,” Nicole says. “And I have more work than I thought I’d ever get.”
She says word of mouth is what works. After trying the art show scene for a few years, Nicole found it to be a slog, even if she got a custom job or two. Now, she’s called it quits on art shows, and her workload is still doing just fine.
Nicole works in her small studio in Hanover, which she built a few years ago as her kids went off to school. She found her basement studio cramped, and her handy father-in-law built it in no time flat. Nicole’s studio hosts little tots drawing lessons during the summer, where she teaches basic drawing techniques to first through seventh graders.
“It’s a blast,” she says. “You can usually tell within the first session if the child has a natural ability.”
For her work, Nicole draws inspiration from the world around her: kids, family, animals, and the rural setting. Customers ask her for lots of animal drawings, like horses and dogs.
“I think I’ve done every breed of dog 10 times,” Nicole says.
To experiment, Nicole dabbles in other creative projects, like furniture and interior design. The furniture thing came about because she likes to make her own pieces.
“I would rather not pay top dollar for anything. Furniture is really fun to me,” Nicole says. “I garage sale like bonkers. I love it – it’s a total addiction.”
In fact, if she were to do it over again, Nicole would concentrate on interior design work. She does a few projects here and there, using a style she calls “modern shabby chic,” but she really wants to redo an entire house.
“I use crazy colors. I just have an eye for it,” she says. “Like, my kitchen’s a bright teal. People wake up when they go in.”
Nicole’s kids have an eye for art, too, she says. Two may be better than she ever was. Take her oldest daughter, who draws all the time. Nicole calls her “phenomenal.”
Maybe there’s an art gene in there after all. Take a look around Nicole’s studio, and you will see four pieces hanging up created by her kids.
“It’s always related to nature, and silhouettes. I’ve had a love for silhouettes for years now. So when I realized when I put these two things together—bodies, hands, leaves—I was forcing myself to think outside the box. I wanted something that made you look closer.”
When Kaiti McDonough thinks of her photography, or life, or the artistic community in Jackson, she thinks in layers.
She started with art early, as a kid, crafting things with her mother’s materials. That, combined with her father’s love and appreciation of nature, makes her photography rich with depth and overlays.
Together with artists in The Singularity, Kaiti thinks of artists in many layers, too: experience level, professional or hobbyist, optimist or pessimist.
Even her career has taken on layers, from teaching to art curation to event planning.
Kaiti sees her main artistic outlet as photography. That started with a point and shoot camera in high school, posing friends in nature and getting lost on adventures. That all changed when she met Doug Jones. Could she do some live art photos for an upcoming show?
A digital single lens reflex (DSLR – the fancy ones with interchangeable lenses) later, and she was off making art.
Her style comes from, you guessed it, layers: double exposures, overlays, textures, blending one image into another. The idea came after she saw artists working on body paintings – making one idea on top of another. The photos do more than document a scene or a moment. They pull you in and make you think.
“It’s always related to nature and silhouettes,” Kaiti says. “I’ve had a love for silhouettes for years now. So I realized when I put two things together – bodies, hands, leaves – I was forcing myself to think outside the box. I wanted something that made you look closer.”
To achieve her style, Kaiti blends images mostly in camera, with a bit of Photoshop work.
“As soon as I discovered my camera had this option, I went to town,” she says. “This was it.”
Kaiti explores her creativity in other ways, too, like sewing and working with resin on wooden boards to frame her work.
Another form of artistic expression: working with other artists in Jackson and The Singularity to highlight the local creative community. Kaiti was one of the co-founders of The Singularity and has found her calling in organizing and marketing events. The idea of getting artists together and putting on a show – a hang-out session with meaning – was immediately appealing to her.
“I loved the feeling of bringing everyone together and doing something for an evening with all your friends,” Kaiti says. “Four and a half years later, I know what I want to go to college for. I want to know more about event planning and marketing while still working on freelance photography.”
As a fine art photographer, Kaiti recommends getting into local shows as they start, while they’re small and affordable. And to be consistent at getting your work out there.
“If you have a good product, and you can make a lot of it, get into small and big art shows – you have to keep pushing at it.”
She’s also optimistic about Jackson’s home-grown art market. With groups like The Singularity, the How Bazaar show downtown, and the growing collaboration between artists – as well as her own work to get more art in front of viewers – Kaiti sees it as a growth opportunity.
“Just seeing everything grow, artists being taken seriously, there’s a market for art,” she says. “There’s potential everywhere, in our artists and our city. Jackson’s so little, it’s growing right before our very eyes.”
“I realized very quickly that being a studio art major would be a lot of fun for the artistic side of me, but I still had practical parts of me that needed to know things about business and finance.”
Cassandra Spicer made art her business. And business? It’s pretty good.
Cassandra owns and operates Beads to Live By on West Michigan Ave. after moving from downtown Jackson. There, she sells beads, materials, and jewelry-making kits, and holds classes to teach others how to make jewelry.
Along the way, she’s found success in embracing the practical side of her artistic talents, from taking advice from local business owners and from years of building a knowledge base in her particular art.
The art part wasn’t always so clear for Cassandra. In college, at Spring Arbor University, she pivoted from a fine arts major to taking classes in business and marketing.
“I realized very quickly that being a studio art major would be a lot of fun for the artistic side of me,” she says. “But I still had practical parts of me that needed to know things about business and finance.”
Cassandra also found that she was too much of a social butterfly to sit in a studio alone, working on art.
That, combined with years of working at Bead Culture in downtown Jackson, helped prepare her to be the artistic entrepreneur she is. Now she sells beading supplies and teaches classes to enthusiasts, and that tickles the social part of her artistic nature. Running a business is a bit of an art, too, because there are always new people to reach and convert to the beading hobby.
It wasn’t a sure thing in the beginning, but Cassandra thinks running Beads To Live By (with her husband Chris) is what she was meant to do.
“I always felt led – there was a directional pull to open this business,” she says. “And every turn we took, a door opened.”
Cassandra doesn’t just do beads and jewelry. She keeps the creative part of her brain busy with artistic projects. She finds inspiration in the works of others, trending fashions, and even Moroccan influences.
“Seeing a pattern, or texture, or something in nature – it’s one of the ways I come up with a design,” Cassandra says.
And no matter how much she tried to get away — at one time, she was an admission counselor for Career Quest — she always came back to beads.
“It’s a gravitational pull,” she says. “Some kind of need. Everyone has that in life, whether it’s artistic or not, to leave their mark on the world. This is my way.”
“I’m making Jackson better, one tattoo at a time.”
It’s just that simple for Andy McCrory, owner and tattoo artist at Ye Old Skull Tattoo in downtown Jackson.
For one, he sees himself as a classical tattoo artist, preferring traditional American motifs and style. And second, Andy feels like tattoo repair work could keep in business in perpetuity.
“I see so many tattoos in need of rescue,” he says.
It was his first tattoo, at age 14, that got Andy started down this path. He remembers getting a small cross by a questionable character in a trailer, using a contraption that was the scariest thing he ever saw.
“I got in trouble for that when I got home,” Andy says.
That night, a teenage Andy went home and figured there’s got to be a better way. He built a tattoo machine there on the spot.
From there, he worked at Underground Ink in Michigan Center for a few years and opened up his own shop on the corner of Morrell St. and Brown St. soon afterward. Then he found the downtown location, on Mechanic St., and has run Ye Old Skull Tattoo there ever since.
No bones about it: When done right, Andy sees tattoos as an art form.
“My customers are allowing me to put my art on them,” Andy says. “That’s flattering. It’s like putting my name on their arm.”
His style comes from a background in graphic arts and screen printing, combined with comic books, horror movies, and dark art.
“If I got to do what I want to do, it’d be skulls and crossbones for everybody,” Andy says.
If you want an opinion about tattoos and come-lately tattoo artists, Andy will readily volunteer a few. He calls tribal tattoos a “waste of black ink and real estate.” He doesn’t cater to trends, like dolphins and (lately) watercolors. And he doesn’t think just anybody with a few art skills should be doing tattoos.
“You can draw anything on paper, but skin is not paper,” Andy says. “Everyone thinks they can do it with a machine from the pawn shop. It’s a slap in the face of us guys who have been doing it forever.”
Andy doesn’t just do tattoos. He’s what you call a creative busybody. Like when he took up painting, just to try it. Or when he sings in a band. Or tackles rebuilding his ’51 DeSoto Spartan Coupe and ’94 Harley-Davidson FXR.
“I don’t sleep much. I need a lot of hobbies,” he says. “I have excessive creative energy.”
Jackson is a good town for all that artistry, Andy says. There is plenty of opportunity, and it’s easy for someone to find their niche.
“Say what you will about this town – I’ve made a pretty good living,” he says. “Not many artists really make money on art. No one buys it until they’re dead. Tattoos aren’t like that.”
“It feels good to have my stuff out there, and get the reaction. And even the not-okay reactions feel good.”
Jason Felde owes a big “thanks” to his wife, Stephenie.
So does the art community in Jackson. If it wasn’t for her, we may have never discovered Jason’s creative work.
The story goes that Jason never publicly displayed his work outside of small shows or at school. Then Stephenie stumbled on Jason’s portfolio, hidden away in a closet, and did what any good, enterprising wife would do: she started showing the portfolio around.
“It was one of those things where I had the support of my family, but no one took that extra step of pushing me farther,” Jason says. “I don’t think anyone wanted to kick me in the butt a little bit harder. So that’s where she came into play. And it’s been a snowball effect from there.”
The work garnered a positive response, and things started to happen for him. A show here, a call from Doug Jones there, and before he knew it — and after some more prodding — Jason was a public artist.
Jason’s artistic side was there from the beginning, he said, from scribbling in notebooks on road trips to art classes in high school. Now, his work draws on many styles and techniques, including painting (acrylics and watercolors), inking, and sculpting.
Since Stephenie “discovered” him, he’s attended eight to ten shows, and he’s often approached for more.
“It feels good to have my stuff out there and get the reaction,” Jason says. “And even the not-okay reactions feel good.”
Jason also works on commission pieces. One of his first was a pencil sketch of a friend’s grandfather. After seeing the piece, his friend’s mom sent him a thank you note.
“It was really cool to know that my work can touch people in that way,” he says.
Jason’s work touches people in need, too, like the cancer fundraising organization Twist Out Cancer. The organization pairs artists with cancer patients to create art based on their stories, with all proceeds going to cancer research.
Closer to home, Jason says Jackson’s creative community is very supportive of its home-grown artists.
“I have yet to come across an artist in Jackson that isn’t willing to promote you,” he says. “Or they’ll buy a piece.”
Visually, Jackson offers a lot of inspiration with its varied landscapes, quiet spots at the parks, and history. As an artist, there are lots of ways to draw inspiration.
“To be able to go somewhere like that to relax and create is amazing. I think Jackson is visually stunning,” Jason says.
Jason is working to get more of his work out in the world. He’s participating in more shows, trying different techniques, and exploring other artistic subjects.
Right behind him, Jason’s wife Stephenie is working, too.
“She has no problem volunteering me for art shows and projects,” Jason says.
“I’m just excited that he actually wants to show his work,” Stephenie says.
That’s precisely what painter and mixed media artist Colleen Peterson loves about it. Besides being a creative outlet, getting creative is great stress relief.
“It doesn’t matter what I make, as long as I get my hands dirty,” she says.
It often starts with a blank canvas, which – for Colleen – is a scary place to start. Random bits of inspiration help her to get started: feelings, requests from customers, random items she finds.
Like the time she got creative with her boyfriend’s homemade beer bottle labels. Or the time she took a broken coffee pot and turned it into a piece.
“I didn’t realize I had a style until someone told me,” Colleen says. “They said, ‘You do have a style. You’re messy!’ My acrylics are really wet and all over the place, and I’m always covered in paint.”
Colleen dabbled with art in high school and liked it. She made comics, and even thought about fashion design and interior design as outlets. It was The Singularity that put her paintings in her first show.
“All I had was random stuff I made,” Colleen says. “I enjoyed it, so I just did it.”
Some of the emotions behind her pieces are messy, too, like the first time she ever sold one of her works. It was heartbreak that helped her make it.
And the heartbreak that came after she sold it.
“I didn’t want to sell it,” she says. “I cried.”
Now, Colleen works mainly with custom pieces and requests, like the wedding centerpiece she worked on while we talked. Often, all she needs is a bit of direction to un-blank that canvas.
“One person I just had, she really likes peacock feathers, and she wanted purples,” she says. “So I made her something really cool that’s probably one of my favorites I’ve made in a while. And she was really stoked. It felt good.”
Colleen is big on customers being able to afford her art. She wants more people to come to Jackson art shows, too, and to help spread awareness about the arts community in town.
“There’s always people saying ‘There’s nothing to do,’ but all these other people are working really hard to put on a show,” she says. “It’s one of the most frustrating things to me. Support your community!”
She loves seeing the art community come together and seeing her fellow artists develop their talent.
“There’s a lot of people that complain about our town, and then there are people making it beautiful.”
“Art is the communication of feelings. If what you’re doing isn’t evoking a feeling, then what you did is arguably not art.”
Jake Perry says it was God’s plan all along that he’d end up where he is now: a videographer for Radiant Church, on Spring Arbor Rd.
He gets to live a creative life, both at work and on personal projects. His work at Radiant fulfills his need to accomplish something for a greater purpose. And his personal projects fulfill him creatively.
“I have this mix of purely creative stuff that may or may not see the light of day, but at least I can be creative for creativity’s sake. And then for this job, I get to be creative and have it make a difference,” Jake says. “So having those two together is pretty sweet.”
Jake’s work at Radiant started because a friend of his got a job at Radiant Church in Kalamazoo and suggested he apply for the videographer position. Jake didn’t get the job, but he did meet the future pastor of the Radiant Church, Mike Popenhagen, who was headed to Jackson. Now, he’s Mike’s assistant, helping promote the church, shooting video announcements, and taking photos of events.
“I get to see the smallest things I do matter to people,” Jake says.
For side projects, Jake helps as a director of photography for Cinema Grove, working on short films and documentaries.
The way Jake sees it, artists are merely a prism through which they interpret God’s will.
“Creative people are more sensitive to communicating with what’s already there and unlocking it,” he says. “Art is the communication of feelings. If what you’re doing isn’t evoking a feeling, then what you did is arguably not art.”
To communicate those feelings, Jake likes working with the basics of image-making.
“I love light, period,” he says. “Being a cinematographer, it’s important for your whole life to be light and shadow.”
Taking inspiration from music, architecture, and photography, Jake pictures himself as a storyteller and uses the stories around him to express himself creatively. It starts with people.
And people, he says, are what make Jackson’s creative community so special. They’re not competitive, and they’re willing to learn and grow together.
“It’s a community that’s not a bunch of sharks with blood in the water,” Jake says.
But Jackson tends to view creative work in a skewed way.
“Jackson is a place that doesn’t value creativity as much as it should, even though it’s ripe with it. And that’s sad,” he says.
Jake stays in Jackson because he feels like God has a plan for him here, and that Jackson may not be done with him just yet. He learned that when he tried to get a job out of the community.
Jackson, as it does so often with others, pulled him back. That’s when he learned to trust God’s plan for him.
“As soon as I did, things made sense and started to fall into place.”
“My favorite thing to hear is people laughing. As long as people are feeling something, then I’m doing something right. My work is quirky and a little bit out there.”
Here’s an idea: take an old landscape painting. You know the kind – one is probably hanging over your grandparents’ mantle right now.
Now grab that bland landscape painting, and add the fantastic. A monster, a UFO, a mystical creature.
Better, right?
That’s what Audra Lockwood thought, too, when she saw a simple seaside landscape and thought, “What if I put a mermaid there?” She’s developed a fan base for her revamped paintings (as she calls them) and reaches a particular market for her work at comic book conventions and art shows.
She doesn’t need much to get started.
“I’ll see a piece, an ugly old landscape, and that alone tells me, ‘This needs a crazy old dude in it,’” Audra says.
Audra and her husband, Cody, were into the geek community and often went to conventions. After seeing the artists who were regulars at cons, she thought her unique landscape creations would find an audience.
“And I did, thank the gods. It’s been amazing,” she says.
Now the duo travels all over the Midwest and all over the country, selling art and meeting artists at the shows. They started local, and as they met other creatives, their travel range broadened.
“It’s a great community of people,” Audra says. “We’re like little art gypsies, hooking each other up with great shows and great info. We scratch each other’s back.”
And it all started with that mermaid. Or, more particularly, grabbing vintage landscapes at thrift stores as an affordable way to grab a gorgeous frame. That’s when she saw the waterscape.
Audra has that first revamped painting hanging in her stairwell, the seaside spark that launched her niche. Several years ago, she saw that old surf scene, and figured a mermaid would make the whole thing better.
“It’s like 11 years old. I’ve been hooked ever since,” she says. “And I thought, ‘What a great time saver.’ It’s framed and ready to hang. You can’t go wrong. Then, everywhere I went, I imagined what it was supposed to be.”
The raw materials are old landscapes and lithographs, plus Audra’s own sci-fi and horror movie imagination. She researches landscape artists, many of whom were from the 1960s, and Googles the creator to make sure she’s not painting over a masterpiece.
“It’s like my collaboration with an artist I’ve never met before,” she says.
While she finds success all over through the convention scene, Audra and Cody stick around Jackson because of the affordable living, its central location, and because their friends and family are still here.
Audra sees the Jackson art community as a close-knit group and credits The Singularity for helping her reach out to a local audience.
“It’s a young community. Jackson is a blue-collar city, and I feel like a lot of 30-somethings are reaching out for something cool and unique,” she says. “They’re at that age where they’re starting to buy art, and they have homes. I think all these weirdos that are coming together are doing something good.”
She finds resistance from local art buyers, however.
“Some of the art shows aren’t ready for what I’m doing. Maybe what I do is a little too strange,” Audra says. “But what I go to shows in Ferndale, it’s full of weirdos like me. And we’re all incredibly successful. There are so many people like me here.”
“It kind of blows my mind that I can do what I do, and I can be successful at it. So that gives me hope.”
Today, on Small Business Saturday, I’m launching part three of Artists In Jackson – the Magazine edition: 96 big, full-color pages, soft-bound and larger than the hardcover edition, and at an affordable price of only $35.
And here’s a deal: use the code CREATIVE40 until Dec. 1 at checkout for 40% off the price. Get yours at artistsinjackson.com/book.
Hardcovers are also still available! Use the code art517 for $9 off the price.
, and ongoing experimentation. 
