Despite her nomadic tendencies, Britten Stringwell knows where home is. It's been Ann Arbor since she was four years old, and after growing up a townie and attending the University of Michigan, the 25 year old still finds herself pulled back into the city's warm embrace (season dependent, mind you) time and time again.
So, what to make of her temporary relocations to Seattle, Chicago, New York City and Portland? Think of them as fact-finding missions.
"I go to these places and hang out and sew and sort of immerse myself in their community spaces," she says. "I notice what works and what doesn't. I pay attention to the layout and colors and what the lighting is."
You see Britten is fascinated by how, where and why people come together. You might even say she's made a life study of it. While attending U-M she even crafted her own major when she couldn't find one that fit her interests.
"U-M has the Individual Concentration Program," she explains, "which lets you design your own curriculum. I put together a bunch of classes that included architecture, courses in the School of Natural Resources, and some classes in personality and spatial psychology. I even took a course in theatrical lighting because I was interested in how light defines space. We called my major, Environment and Behavior."
Doubled with a study in graphic design –"it was something practical, which was better for my parents who were helping me through school"— Britten was taking both an artistic and anthropological approach to urban planning; experimenting with ideas of space and human interaction.
"I'm very interested in how spaces are laid out and how people come together," she explains. "I'm fascinated by people's attitudes about these spaces, how they choose to gather. In Europe they have piazzas and paths that lead to community centers. Here it seems like we develop spaces around goods rather than people."
A head for inspiration
Which is not to say Britten is opposed to commerce. In fact, the artist and designer has supplemented her travels to far flung progressive cities by selling her self-fashioned "unihood". Says one local blogger: "It may be the best haberdashery you'll ever purchase."
The unihood is exactly what the name implies, an unattached hoodie. Fashioned from recycled or repurposed material, Britten's hat creations each have a personality and flare of their own, attracting customers searching for something
that deviates from assembly line corporate fashion.
"I've always made my own clothes and sewn for friends and I started to rethink how I could put those skills toward making some income," she explains. Her unihood became both a portable and personal industry that allowed her to make some money while connecting with other Do-It-Yourselfers - no matter where she lived.
"I'll move to a city for a little while, --usually three months-- find someone to house with, then get a sewing machine off Craigslist and start making unihoods," she explains. "It's become my bread and butter project, I guess, because it's one thing I can make, and it doesn't require a lot of material and it's pretty versatile."
While Britten says that a few boutiques carry her unihood, she prefers to sell them directly at events like Ypsilanti's twice-annual Shadow Art Fair. Not only does she get to keep all the profits, but she also really enjoys her interactions with customers and fellow DIY'ers.
"At the Shadow Art Fair last year I was next to Greg Roos, who roasts his own coffee, " she recounts, "and he and I had a really good time together. We started having unihood/coffee specials. There's a real energy and connection at these fairs."
For Britten, the unihood has become more than just something she sells. "I kind of think the unihood is as much a process as it is a product, connecting me to all sorts of people I might not otherwise know."
It's those very connections, as well as her stints in other cities, that have given Britten ideas about how to plug in with other creatives to build an artistic community -- ideas that are now fueling her efforts in Ann Arbor.
The Yellow Barn (and Bizarre Dance)
True to her live-where-she-finds-it ethos, Britten has settled on a 10-acre farm not far from Ann Arbor's downtown. There she trades work for rent, fixing up a small space and building a DIY artistic community in the adjacent barn.
"I used to dream: man, if only there were a spot where creative people could gather. Then I met Bill Gross and it just sort of happened."
Invited by Roos to be a part of an "Art In The Barn" event a week after Shadow Art Fair, Stringwell hit it off with Bill Gross, the barn's owner. Gross asked if she'd like to help him put together a fashion show/art/music event and Britten said "sure."
"We came up with the idea of calling it the Bizarre Dance. And we've been going monthly for almost a year now," Stringwell says.
The crowds have ranged between 30 and 200, creating an unpredictable but always lively scene. And Britten has been amazed by the outpouring of support, with volunteers of every stripe and color popping up. Currently the Yellow Barn's 13 or so core volunteers are trying to harness the scene into a more permanent creative community.
Stringwell explains their enthusiasm. "When I came back to Ann Arbor I'd run into all these interesting people who were creating cool things. And they all said how they felt like they couldn't find other people doing the same thing. And I realized there were a lot of artists like me here, there just wasn't enough spaces to bring them together. People were really looking for a place like the Yellow Barn."
More and bigger ideas are constantly swirling about, says Stringwell. "We plan to build walls on casters so we can create flexible spaces to allow for art installations or hold capoeira workshops and stuff like that. ...The Yellow Barn seems to really becoming something. There's an energy here that's going somewhere, that I've never felt before."
Build it and they will come
Stringwell sees a real hunger in local artists for affordable and accessible space, whether its studios to create and display their work or performing arts venues.
Unlike neighboring communities, Ann Arbor does not have an arts and culture center that is open to local creatives. And the scarcity of inexpensive venues makes it difficult for fledgling artists to experiment or build an audience. In comparison, much smaller Ypsilanti has the Riverside Arts Gallery and budget theater spaces like Dreamland Theater. The net effect is that Ann Arbor has become a community where much of its art is imported or academic. Though there are several long-established arts organizations, there's very little room for new blood.
"I think there are a lot of spaces that could be activated by creative people but, yeah, it's hard to find venues for your art," says Stringwell. "You know, studio and performance spaces that bring more people together so that they don't have to move away to do their art."
With all the conversations about keeping young talent in Michigan, Stringwell thinks it's less about keeping U-M grads in Ann Arbor (because young people want to explore new places) and more about "how you attract people from other places so that they want to explore your community."
She believes that people want a culture that's uniquely local, and they look for people who can point to those things. "There aren't too many places here that foster something that feels like that, something that isn't a bar. It's hard to find art that is Ann Arbor."
Lately, Stringwell has taken an interest in conversations about making Ann Arbor more arts-friendly, attending meetings about the fate of the city's 415 Washington building and keeping tabs on the retail space adjacent to downtown's Liberty Lofts. She's made connections with Tamara Real of the Arts Alliance, Lou Glorie, a local realtor and arts activist, and the folks at 555 Gallery in Detroit (which once upon a time started in Ann Arbor) and has become hopeful for the future.
"Wouldn't it be wonderful if that whole area --from that First Street place to 415 Washington to all along the proposed Greenway-- could become oriented toward artists," she pines. "I don't know what it will take to make it happen, but it's so important to be around people who are creating things. Artists feed off of one another, off their energy and ideas. And so do the people who experience that creativity. Ann Arbor really needs that. It also allows for collaboration, and encourages people to pool resources. And that's what creating community is about, right?"
While many arts organizations fret over the current state of funding, Stringwell sees the country's current economic woes as an unintended boon for the values she embraces.
"I feel like the economy has made people focus on building community. I think it's made us focus on what we've got, what's right in front of us. So, what have we got? We've got each other. That's what makes this conversation about arts in Ann Arbor possible. It's weird because while things are bad for a lot of people, it's also like my crazy dream world where people barter and create and come together is becoming a reality."
If you're interested in learning more about Yellow Barn events you can join their mailing list by emailing: theyellowbarn@gmail.com
Jeff Meyers is the managing editor of Concentrate and Metromode. He is also a film critic for Detroit's Metro Times. Send comments to jeff@concentratemedia.com