-- Download The not-so-secret life of Ida Tapper as PDF --

By day she’s shy, conservative and teetotal. By night she’s a burlesque dancer. We delve into a remarkable double life. Cover photo by Michael Luna Photography. By Gillian Drummond

She’s not what we expected. We imagined tighter clothes. Flamboyance. Lipstick. But she’s in workout gear – a T-shirt, leggings and hoodie. She’s quietly sipping her Starbucks drink on the patio. The makeup, though there, is barely discernible.

“I did put on some mascara and lipstick for you!” she laughs. “I usually wear nothing.”

Except, that is, when she takes to the stage as her alter ego. Then, after an hour and a half of hair styling and make-up application, after donning elaborate costumes handmade by her, she gradually and teasingly removes them. And she reveals not much at all: scant underwear, and a pair of pasties, or nipple covers.

By night she is Ida Tapper, an alter ego she has created as part of Tucson’s burgeoning burlesque scene. By day? Well, that would be telling. Although we could reveal her real name (it’s there on her Starbucks cup in black Sharpie pen), that would be breaking the burlesque rules. Ida and her cohorts have stage names. It’s a way for them to maintain some privacy, and to separate their very public night-time persona from their ‘real’ selves – people who hold down jobs, and have partners, children and families.

For this dancer – still relatively new to burlesque – her pseudonym is also her crutch. As Ida she is empowered, sexy, bawdy, theatrical. Her daytime self hadn’t even set foot inside a bar, let alone seen a burlesque show, when, three years ago, a friend took her to see Black Cherry Burlesque show at The Surly Wench pub on Tucson’s Fourth Avenue. The dancers undressed to Schubert’s Ave Maria, huge white feather fans like giant clam shells, dipping and curling and covering their bodies. Ida was hooked. She grabbed one of the troupe members after the show – stage name Fanny Galore – and gushed in appreciation and awe. Fanny suggested Ida come and take a class for newbies, with a public show at the end of it.

Ida, who had grown up dancing but left her dance hobby behind when she pursued music, was drawn to the idea of performing dance again. But first, Fanny had to assuage Ida’s fears, which ranged from exposing the cellulite on her thighs, to being found out at work. As a public school teacher, she feared she might be sacked. Fanny assured her this wasn’t a sacking offence.

Today, burlesque is not just a hobby, it’s an outlet, says Ida. “The Ida in me needed to come out.” That’s why you’ll find Ida at this week’s Body Love Conference in Tucson, leading a workshop called Beginner Burlesque: The Art of the Tease. The conference, which takes place at the University of Arizona and is the brainchild of Tucson blogger and body positive advocate Jes Baker, has one simple message: Change your world, not your body.

At 5 feet 9 and a size 2, Ida doesn’t seem like an obvious candidate for encouraging body love to women of all shapes and sizes. But despite her statuesque looks, she never considered herself attractive. She grew up an identical twin. “I was the more scholarly one, I was into school and academics. My sister had the tattoos and the piercings and went drinking. She was the pretty one, I was the smart one. That affected my confidence going on stage.”

That first time, she gave herself a pep talk backstage. Having performed music, she was no stranger to the stage. But taking her clothes off was another thing. So she told herself that, although she may be scared, Ida, her alter ego, was comfortable and content. And then a funny thing happened. She dug so deep into that alter ego that, mentally, she disappeared. Even today, with hundreds of performances to her name, she still can’t tell you how her audience is reacting, whether they’re even clapping. “I don’t notice that. I really am in my own world,” she says.

The day after she first shared Ida with the world, she was walking taller, smiling more. “I was going ‘I have a secret. None of you know what I did last night’.”

And now, she doesn’t care whether the cellulite shows or not. “The feminist in me said I wanted to show everything I have. I wanted to stop being ashamed of what I look like and bring it all and say to the audience ‘Take it or leave it’.” Ida hopes visitors to the Body Love conference will feel the same way.

Fanny Galore, Ida’s mentor and now colleague – one of the four who make up the Tucson troupe Don’t Blink Burlesque – says body confidence was a happy byproduct. “I never thought I had a good body until I started doing burlesque,” says Fanny, once a member of the Black Cherry troupe and now operating the burlesque ‘university’, Fanny’s Fox Den. Many of her students (and she has taught more than a hundred) are, like Ida, inherently shy and the opposite of their stage personas. “I think to an extent a lot of us are trying to tap into something that’s somewhat suppressed. A lot of my students tell me they’re actually shy. The stage is a safe place,” says Fanny.

Ida has seen friendships made as well as relationships suffer as part of Tucson’s burlesque scene. She knows she’s lucky that her own husband has backed her from the start (he attends every show, and helps pack and unpack gear). Also in the audience, on occasion, have been work colleagues. But, adhering to the unspoken burlesque rule that what happens on the stage stays there, none of them have so much as mentioned Ida to her in the office.

Don’t Blink Burlesque is made up wholly of “really determined Type A personalities”, says Ida. “It’s a very driven troupe. You’d be surprised how many advanced degrees we have. Because it’s that type of personality that will sew rhinestones on [costumes] for 80 hours and prepare for six months for a show.”

Don’t Blink Burlesque performs once a week at The Hut, as well as putting on other shows. In June, for the first time, they will compete for the title of best burlesque troupe in the annual Burlesque Hall of Fame event in Las Vegas. And this fall the troupe will put on the first annual Arizona Burlesque Festival – three days and three nights of performances and classes, for wannabes and spectators.

Don’t expect to see Ida performing much over the coming months; she’s pregnant with her first child and already busting out of her corsets. But she’ll still be on the scene. At a recent Don’t Blink gig at Playground in Tucson, she emceed with a brazenness and ribaldry that was difficult to equate with the quiet, serene woman taking midday coffee. The audience lapped it up. And Ida was in her element.

* Ida won’t be the only burlesque dancer at The Body Love conference, held April 5th at the University of Arizona. The World Famous Bob, a self-described “female-female impersonator” inspired by drag, and a teacher at the New York School of Burlesque, will be giving a talk on self-confidence. For the full schedule and tickets, click here. For more on Jes Baker, the body positive advocate behind the conference, read our feature here.

 

-- Download Pop goes the decor as PDF --

Pop art – now more than 60 years old – is having an interesting senior moment. It’s re-emerging not as art, but as home decor. By Kaleigh Shufeldt.

When Andy Warhol and Roy Lichtenstein turned commonplace images into art, little did they know the long-lasting impression they would leave. Six decades on, pop art is inspiring home decor itself – everything from pieces of furniture to the kitchen backsplash.

The pop art movement took images from the mass media – advertising, packaging, comic books – and added irony and humor. Proof that the mid-century art form may never go out of style came with the recent launch of a line of mosaic glass tile by Dune titled, simply, Andy.

The tile is a fusion of pop culture and retro style, says Dune’s southwest regional manager Christine Jenkins. It was launched last year after the Dune marketing team traveled to major design shows throughout Milan and London where, says Christine, comics and pop culture were the inspiration for new fashion styles.

The tile is easy to install because it is made on a 28″ by 28″ ceramic tile with 2 mm wide cuts on the surface that divide the piece into 64 modules. It gives “the effect of real mosaic once it has been installed,” says Raquel Delgado in Dune’s marketing department. The pieces can be rotated to make each design random and distinctive.

Raquel says Dune used several kinds of vitreous paste to “enhance and stress” the designs. The company uses luster, transparent and iridescent paste to create a contrast of lights and shadows. Since the Andy line is rich in color, Raquel advises combining the tiles with white furniture and walls.

The Andy tile has already been specified for two homes in the Tucson area, says Elizabeth Miller, owner of Fractured Earth Tile & Stone in Tucson, which sells it. She recommends using the tile in a laundry or powder room to add a little personality and whimsy. A client of Tucson interior designer Lori Carroll has requested the tile for their laundry room because “they wanted impact”, says Lori. She plans to combine Andy with a neutral color and a simple countertop.

Italian artist Silvia Zacchello uses recycled and vintage furniture to create a three-dimensional and graphic tribute to pop art. Silvia has made multiple Campbell’s Soup Cans chairs, each one a different variation of Andy Warhol’s famous work of art. Silvia calls Warhol a genius, “a modern Leonardo da Vinci.”

Silvia paints trunks, desks and wall panels, but her main focus is chairs, which retail from $275 upwards. Chairs mean many things, says Silvia. “You sit in a chair to stop and think, to share your meal with your family and your friends, to talk, to relax.” Pop art has unifying properties too, she says. “Pop art is everywhere and it belongs to everyone.”

An old chair in her cellar first inspired the artist. Reluctant to throw it away, Silvia wanted to give it a new life and paint a reproduction of a famous pop art piece.

Each object takes three to four days to complete. Silvia first sands the furniture, covers it with white primer, draws the design in pencil and then paints it with acrylics. After the piece is dry, she covers it with a shiny clear parquet varnish.

Silvia says it’s important to use the right balance when using the furniture in a room. Her pieces go well with moderate colors and dressed wood, and mix well with a Scandinavian design that is simple and clean.

Tucson interior designer Pat Mooney, owner of Designlines, who also does color consultations, says bright, colorful home decor accessories are hugely popular. “And a lot of new colors have hit the market – peacock blue, coral, salmon, yellow.” Why? Low economic times may have something to do with it, says Pat. “Color is used as a pick-me-up.”

For architect Roger Hirsch, a 1950s Wrigley’s Gum poster gives a splash of color and architectural interest to his home on Fire Island, New York. The large wall can be seen from all parts of his home. He picked up the billboard from a poster shop and had it mounted onto canvas and professionally restored. Now, glued directly to the wall, it forms a permanent art installation.

“We wanted to create a large pop element in the center of the home,” says Roger, who also wanted something to cover the entire wall. “An original billboard met the size requirements while also being unique.” And the colors fit the character of the house, says Roger: it is minimalist but not completely monotone, and benefits from having a little pop.

Sometimes the pop comes simply with color itself. Interior designer Tracy Murdock of Tracy Murdock Design and Management in Beverly Hills is known for using splashes of color in her design. Her trademark yellow is a feature in a black and white room she designed for a loft owned by Italian fashion company Fendi.

The large print was originally a photograph from Phyllis Morris, a custom furniture maker, which Tracy had blown up and printed at Aztek Imaging. The dramatic picture gives the space an old Hollywood feel, says Tracy, and the yellow pillows and throws provide contrast against an otherwise dark room. And with the repetition of the giant image, there are also shades of Warhol.

* The ‘Andy’ tile by Dune costs $50 per square foot. For more information, visit Dune or contact Fractured Earth Tile & Stone in Tucson (open to the design trade only).

 

 

-- Download The White Album as PDF --

It’s fresh and crisp, meditative and inspiring, sometimes cold, always tricky, and really hard to keep clean. White is the color du jour. But are you brave enough? By Gillian Drummond.

When photographers Eric and Casia Fletcher moved into their studio space in a converted warehouse at 6th Avenue and 6th Street, a painted white wall spoke to them. First, it asked to be re-painted, from off-white to bright white. Next, it asked for more creativity.

The owners of Purple Nickel Studio got the idea for a series of white picture frames from a visit to Tucson’s Zinburger restaurant, where a row of mirrors on a white wall had a dramatic effect. “I was like, ‘That would be so awesome with frames, and to have tchotchkes and objects hanging in them’,” says Casia.

They found a selection of picture frames – in different sizes – at thrift stores, yard sales, sometimes antique stores. They also picked up a old screen door. Then they set up a temporary painting booth in their back yard and spray-painted the frames white.

Getting their hands on frames that would sit snugly up against one another, and making them fit, was “literally like a puzzle. It took me many nights to figure out,” says Eric, who placed the frames on the floor first.

Then the couple hung their ‘tchotchkes’ – although what they chose are hardly disposable, nor worthless. There is an old camera, an architect’s compass (from Eric’s time studying architecture), a stapler, a wooden game board, and more. The objects hang in the middle of select frames, becoming a piece of art.

“I like how it just became a texture. It’s like three-dimensional wallpaper,” says Eric of the effect.

White is, and has always been, a controversial choice for home décor: fresh and surprising, meditative, controversial, and with a love-it-or-hate-it sentiment – very much like The Beatles’ self-titled double album, which became known as The White Album.

Those who use it encourage caution: they recommend good lighting, and contrast. The work of London architect Charles Mellersh at a Notting Hill townhouse is striking not because of the white, but because of the vintage furniture and objects that stand beside it.

“This was the first all-white interior I’ve undertaken and it was a leap of faith in many respects,” says Charles, formerly interiors editor at Wallpaper magazine. “I’m generally much fonder of darker and moodier hues. That said, the project has an almost dairy-like feel about it that feels remarkably warm.”

He broke up the white walls, carrera marble floors, marble counters and plain white wall tiles, with vintage and modern furniture and accessories and, in the case of the wall tiles, dark grout. The key, he says, was to instill warm through strong textures and considered furniture choices.

At Sugar Sweet Bakery, which occupies a light-filled corner space at Tucson’s historic Broadway Village, owners Tina Owyoung and Don Scheer were persuaded by architect and construction company Repp McClain to go with something modern, and light in color.

The husband-and-wife team had been considering a darker, more traditional look to go with the previous space they eyed across the street. But the airy store space they ended up with, still with its original brown concrete floors, lent itself to lighter fixtures, says Tina.

For the front entry space, in went white cabinets from IKEA, a white powder-coated metal part backsplash, and decorative panels from inhabit.com for the rest of the backsplash. The panels are made of  bagasse, the fiber left over after juice has been squeezed out of sugarcane stalks, and a renewable resource. They come in an eggshell shade, can be painted, and can be recycled or composted after use. (Price: $86 for ten tiles that cover 22.5 sq ft).

To offset the white, there is a pale pink countertop of powder-coated metal, and a predominance of black chalkboard. Tina and Don, both former graphic designers, found ornate framed mirrors at Cost Plus World Market. Two were antiqued white, the other the couple painted themselves. They took out the mirrors and inserted chalkboard, which Don writes on free-style (in white chalk, naturally) to provide menus. One other chalkboard and white-lettered wall serves the same purpose.

Tucson interior designer Florencia Turco de Roussel blames white’s decor comeback in recent years on Swedish chain IKEA. “That’s when I fell in love with white all over again.”

Some might think an all-white decor is boring, says Florencia, who runs Within Studio. But the trick is to use it as a backdrop, and change up what’s around it: slipcovers, pillows, rugs. “It’s a great backdrop, especially if you have art.”

When Florencia designed the interior of the new Hush salon and spa in Tucson, she suggested a pedicure area of white porcelain tile – set up a couple of steps from the floor – with a bright yellow vinyl cushion for the long bench seat. Not only did it make the area stand out from the “energetic, rock ‘n roll” look of the rest of the salon (reds and chocolates feature, a busy wallpaper, and light wood), it saved the client money. “People that come to me know I’m not going to be wasteful of their funds, so I try to use money accordingly. I said we’ll get inexpensive tile then a really good quality vinyl fabric for the cushions,” says Florencia.

But while white makes a statement, all-white is not recommended, says Gillian Turney, interior designer with Kevin B. Howard Architects,  which houses Tucson’s Poliform furniture showroom. “It creates a whitewash,” says Gillian.

Italian-based Poliform loves white, but also likes to compliment it with other textures or colors or both. So a kitchen island features white glass on the counter and cabinet doors, with a piece of brown oak alongside the glass counter. “It’s not about bling, it’s just the materials alone, whether they’re glossy, lacquered material next to brown oak or something else. It makes it pop out even more.”

White is controversial, says Gillian. “Everyone has an opinion about the color.” Her background in fine arts and auction houses taught her a little bit of the history of white. It began as a servants’ color, because whitewashing was an easy means of décor. Then it turned into a “nobleman’s color”, says Gillian, because it’s hard to keep clean.

“I love white on white, especially in a bathroom,” says Tucson interior and  landscape designer Kathryn Prideaux of Prideaux Design. When some of her clients wanted an old-world feel for their Tucson townhome, but also a clean, simple aesthetic, Kathryn made sure to mix up the whites with different textures. She says to make sure you stick to the same ‘family’ of whites; some whites have a blue undertone, others pink, and so on. “The use of whites requires a lot of attention to detail in the hues and color undertones of the whites and how well they will mix. Having samples in hand of every finish is a must.”

Rough woods, wrought iron, a hexagon Saltillo tile, polished chrome and silver-leaf elements gave high contrast and different textures, says Kathryn.

Layering like this, say the designers we spoke to, not only creates visual interest but warms up what could otherwise be a cold, bare space.

Not only that, it makes the whole interior design process more exciting. A bit like The Beatles’ White Album itself, your room becomes a place to experiment and diversify.

* For more white decor ideas, see Boxhill’s products of the month in our Ground Floor column.

-- Download 'Why we love our vintage trailers' as PDF --

They’re a piece of Americana, and nobody can deny their charm. But with every vintage trailer comes a story. By Samantha Cummings. Cover photo courtesy of Shady Dell.

When crowds gather to celebrate the second annual Tucson Modernism Week, all eyes will be on the Vintage Trailer Show, where owners will flock from all over the state to show off their mid-century throwbacks.

“It’s Americana,” says Demion Clinco, President of the Tucson Historic Preservation Foundation, which is organizing Tucson Modernism Week. “Trailers, neon signs, classic cars – they all kind of represent this idyllic notion of what America was like in the 1950s and 60s. It represents this exuberance after World War II. It’s this idea of, ‘Let’s go see the future. Get in our cute little airplane designed little tin can and experience the United States’.”

But vintage trailers – especially nowadays – are not just for travel. We talked to four owners about why they love their piece of the past.

“This is just the big piece of our funky collection.”

Doug Striggow and Doug Harbaugh are avid collectors of anything mid-century. One step into their home and you’d think you just traveled back in time.

With a room dedicated completely to Dr. Seuss memorabilia and a plethora of vintage finds, this couple was ready to crank their antiquing up a notch and purchase their largest mid-century find yet: a 1966 Airstream Caravel Land Yacht. Doug Harbaugh describes it as “the big piece of our funky collection”.

The couple plans to use the Airstream as a guest quarters, and will possibly take it on a few camping trips. But first, they have to find out if they even like to camp. If they don’t it’s no sweat, because they already set up a campground of their own – one they know they’ll like.

Once they purchased the trailer for $6,500 from RV Oasis, located off the Benson Highway, the couple wasted no time creating their dream campground. Take three steps out of the trailer’s front door and a path of pavers leads you straight to their version of a ‘campfire’: bright, fun yellow plastic chairs, a red awning, and salvaged steel dividers.

“I just wanted a spot to roast marshmallows,” says Striggow. With an appreciation for all things mid-century and wanting to stay true to the trailer’s origins, they made sure their renovations reflected just that. New curtains were made out of vintage 1960’s fabric, a reddish-orange countertop replaces the original white Formica, with new floor tiles to match, and new mustard yellow seat cushions pull the entire look together.

Striggow, a visual display manager for Dillard’s, and Harbaugh, a former visual display manager and now a men’s supervisor for JC Penney, have yet to spend a night in their prized Land Yacht.

But, if the trailer never moves an inch, both agree it was still worth every penny. “At the end of the day, it’s perfect for us,” says Harbaugh.

“I want to leave the city and the time period behind.”

When Alex Mastrangelo travels with his wife, Michelle Haller, and son Dash in their blue ’59 Cadillac, towing their 1957 El Rey, heads are sure to turn.

The family of three typically travels in the 24 ft. trailer anywhere from five to eight times a year, having stayed in the El Rey for as long as twelve days at a time. “Dash grew up in the trailer,” says Alex. “He used to take baths in the sink.”

The trailer, an eBay buy for $2,300, was originally purchased with the intent to rarely move an inch. “When I first met my wife, she was living downtown and was going to make a house out of trailers,” says Alex. “So we were designing this house that was solely made out of travel trailers and this was actually going to be the bedroom and dressing room. It ended up she didn’t do that house, so we ended up traveling with it.”

Instead the couple, in order to abide by building codes and regulations, built a one-bedroom home that was specifically designed to house a 35-foot Spartanette trailer next to it. The trailer provides an additional working bathroom, a bed, and living space. If the trailer is “travel ready,” it’s technically considered a vehicle – meaning they were able to circumvent permits for an addition or guest house.

Because of the home’s small size, Alex and Michelle use this house as a rental, and say that the Spartanette addition is a huge selling point to the right tenant.

Now the family of three resides in a traditional ranch-style home in Tucson. But Alex refers to the 1959 El Rey as their home on the road, providing his family with the opportunity to drink a lot of beer, eat a lot of food and just relax.

“I love to travel. Also, I’ve always really escaped to the past to take a vacation. My aesthetics have been that way since I was kid. I don’t like modern things at all, so when I go on a vacation I want to leave the city and leave the time period at the same time. I don’t think I could have the same amount of pleasure in a new trailer. Everything is very much authentic.”

He adds: “Trailer people are kind of like Civil War re-enactors, in their own way. They all go out to the battlefield and they try to get in the zone of what the soldier felt like in 1864. That’s what they’re doing, but just a much more modern time period. They are escaping from everything that’s driving them crazy at home. When I get in here, I can relax. For the most part, you can kind of forget that you’re in 2013.”

* If you want to check out Alex and Michelle’s trailer for yourself, catch him at the Vintage Trailer Show at Tucson Modernism Week on Saturday, October 5th and Sunday, October 6th. For more information and tickets, click here.

“A lot of people have stayed here that I don’t think I would have ever met… we’ve become close friends.”

A night at The Shady Dell in Bisbee, a former mining town two hours south of Tucson, is the closest thing to actually teleporting back to 1950.

One step into the 1951 Mansion, a Spartan classic, and you are greeted with a leopard print rug, two martini glasses and a 1955 University yearbook.

Justin and Jennifer Luria are the third set of owners to take over the campground, comprised entirely of vintage trailers. It dates all the way back to 1927, where fatigued travelers on Highway 80 used to rest and set up camp.

Now, the couple welcomes guests from all over the world who are craving the romantic and mystique experience of 1950’s Americana. You can choose from nine fully restored vintage trailers. Their collection ranges anywhere from a 1957 Airfloat to a restored 1947 ‘Tiki Bus’.

“The Airfloat is neat,” says Justin. “That was pretty luxurious back then. Nobody could afford that except for celebrities and movie stars.”

Jennifer, a former graphic designer, and Justin, who graduated from Arizona State University with a degree in Hospitality and Tourism, both fit right in with their vintage settings. Both have a ’50s look to them, she with her short bangs and bright red lipstick, he in plaid shirt and jeans.

But never did they think they would end up in a place with a population of 5,600.

“I’ve wanted to work at a hotel or have a little hotel in Central America or another country,” says Justin. “All I wanted was to get out of Arizona, and then I was like, ‘How’d I end up in this small town in the middle of nowhere?’ But I’m five miles from Mexico. Almost got there!”

While Justin is responsible for most of the landscaping and maintenance duties, Jennifer enjoys rummaging through Bisbee’s vintage shops for finds to show off in each trailer (and it doesn’t hurt that it’s a business write-off).

“Sometimes people leave things,” says Jennifer. “I’ll be like, ‘I don’t remember picking this up.’ They’ll also send stuff, because it’s been sitting in their closet for years. So, we’ll put it on display so everybody can see it. It’s nice to be able to do that.”

Because Justin and Jennifer run everything completely by themselves – except for some cleaning help on the weekends – they have decided to go seasonal. The Shady Dell is open during Fall and Spring and closed for several months during the summer. This gives the couple the opportunity to make necessary improvements, and time to recuperate.

“We’ve met people from all over the world,” says Justin. “Really interesting people – a lot of people who have stayed here, that I don’t think I would have ever met, that we’ve become really close friends with.”

“Sometimes it’s like Groundhog Day,” says Jennifer of the steady stream of visitors. “I try to remember everybody’s names, but it’s hard because somebody new is coming in every day.”

One couple who made their mark was Alex Mastrangelo and Michelle Haller (mentioned above), who rented out the entire park for their wedding ceremony and reception. Guests were able to mingle at the common area and then at the end of the night were able to return to their own trailer.

Jennifer and Justin are currently living in the back of the main office with their two dogs. They plan to build a house adjacent to the property. Steps towards creating an outdoor movie theatre are also already in the works, where they will use their 1957 Dot’s Diner (sadly, out of commission as a diner) as a place for guests to purchase concessions.

Says Jennifer: “To be able to be surrounded by this stuff that we love everyday… we like the style, we like the period. That’s our job, and that’s what we love.”

“There’s an emotional aspect to this. It’s sentimental.”

We know. It’s pushing it a little to call this last trailer vintage; it was made in 1979. But we loved this story so much, we had to squeeze it in.

When Susan Delaney knew her snowbird parents from New England were moving into her family of three’s Tucson home for the winter, she and husband Michael thought they’d renovate the two-bedroom house.

Their plans to add onto the home fell through, so Susan decided to move her parents into the master bedroom and convert the Arizona room into a third bedroom. But in doing so, Susan’s already tiny house just got smaller.

The solution: a 1979 Silver Streak that not only provides extra space – acting as an extra wing on their house, – but will be a place where the family can escape and spend quality time together.

“There’s an emotional aspect to this. It’s sentimental. Life goes fast and you should try to at least stay a little near your family,” she says.

For Susan, a clay artist, half the fun has been finding vintage items to fill the trailer, which they bought for $5,700 on Craigslist.  On the table lies a 1978 version of The Mad Magazine Game and Bonkers. Old cassettes and books are lined up under the window and a stack of Arizona Highway magazines are near the beds.

“I must say though, you try to stay hip about it, but in this trailer you definitely find yourself listening to Hank Williams and Patsy Cline,” says Susan.

With the Internet connection reaching out to the trailer, her son Spencer, 13, and his friend had no issue being guinea pigs and testing out the trailer for a night. Although Susan thinks more YouTube videos were watched than actual board games were played, she’s happy to see her son be able to claim a little space of his own.

Because of the trailer’s pristine condition, Susan wants to leave the Silver Streak as is and just slightly change and add to its original 1979 décor. This means a lot of burnt orange and avocado green – cheesy, but she loves it. “I graduated from high school in 1978, so that’s kind of fun,” says Susan. “I was a freshman in college when this came out, so I have some fun memories.”

-- Download Don't say cheese as PDF --

The owners of Purple Nickel are breaking all the rules with their portrait photography studio. There’s only one requirement: you have to have lots of fun. By Gillian Drummond.

When Casia Fletcher looks back at her family photographs, it’s the candid, unplanned shots that strike a chord: Casia, still a baby, sitting with her dad on his Honda motorcycle; Casia as a kid playing in a pile of leaves.

“It’s so real,” says the University of Arizona graduate of that photo with the leaves. She also smiles at the memory of a photo of her sister wearing a vintage dress on her dad’s property in Marana. “That photo could totally work right now,” says Casia.

The last one wasn’t candid or unplanned; Casia took it herself, as part of her teenage experimentation with photography. But it speaks volumes about Casia’s need to “not do something traditional, to do something different”.

So it’s no wonder that Purple Nickel, the portrait photography studio Casia runs with her husband Eric, is out of the ordinary. First off, they don’t use the studio much. Their preference is to capture their clients – families, graduates, business people wanting a different-looking head shot –  in unexpected places. Backdrops might include concrete bypasses, brick walls and random sidewalks. The desert makes an appearance sometimes, but cliches like cowboy hats among the saguaros are out. Instead, it might be a big-sky shot with a kid, tiny, running towards the edge of the frame.

Secondly, the shots are unexpected. Babies scream. Kids scrunch up their faces. Sometimes you only see the back of the children’s heads. The top half of the parents’ bodies might be cut off completely, to showcase the toddler at their feet. There may be just the limb of a child as his or her leap into the air is caught on camera.

A big difference with Purple Nickel is that their subjects are allowed – and encouraged – to be themselves, to get a little crazy, and to laugh. To Casia and Eric, worlds, and families, are imperfect, casual and fun. And so to portray a family sitting in a row with forced smiles would be disingenuous.

“It’s a reaction to the traditional portrait studio,” says Eric. If anything, Purple Nickel is the anti-portrait studio, focusing instead on those candid shots that are taken by family members, but that become their own family treasures. “The candid stuff was left for mom and dad to take, and that’s the stuff everyone wants. The problem with all of these shots is mom and dad are never in them. Now you get the opportunity to be in them,” he says.

They meet with the families or individuals first, find out what they love, discuss appropriate outfits, and get to know the kids. Then, at the shoot, both Casia and Eric take pictures. Their styles are similar enough yet different enough – Casia gets the good close-ups, Eric likes wider shots and ones where buildings feature prominently – to provide a rounded package for their clients.

“We both have our distinct styles but aesthetically they’re the same,” says Eric. “I like wider, bigger shots, Casia is much better with closer, tighter shots.” Adds Casia: “So the clients get variation.”

When they start shooting the photographs, especially of families, they create their own rhythm. Years of being together, and several years now of taking photographs together, has created a silent artistic shorthand between them, and respect for how each other is handling the shoot and the clients. Casia explains: “We know when to step back. If Eric is totally bonding with the kids, then I [step back]. Sometimes I have to say ‘Am I hogging?’ or ‘Do you want to step in?'”

The couple met in 2002, whilst at the University of Arizona, on a blind date that was arranged by a mutual friend. They moved in together a year later, and were married in 2006 in what Casia calls a “DIY wedding”, a casual, low-key affair held in the backyard of downtown Tucson’s historic Stillwell House. There was a friend officiating, another friend playing guitar, Tucson architect Page Repp DJ’ing, and a Polaroid photo guestbook. Pomp and ceremony are not this couple’s thing, which is one reason why they don’t shoot weddings for work. The exception was their friends Darci Hazelbaker and Dale Rush, owners of the architecture and design firm HA/RU, who twisted Casia and Eric’s arms into photographing their own wedding in rural New Mexico.

Purple Nickel operates out of a former tire warehouse in the Firestone building at 6th Street and 6th Avenue, a place that now houses retailers, galleries and artists. Together with the likes of the Conrad Wilde Gallery, OZMA Atelier, the Wee Gallery and, close by, the new Tap & Bottle, these businesses are helping create a burgeoning little arts district just off of Tucson’s counter-culture hub, 4th Avenue.

To boost their summer business, Purple Nickel recently turned part of their loft-style second-floor space into a studio to photograph kids. Clients of their new division, Purple Nickel Kids, get to play and clown around in a big expanse of white: a white platform and two white backdrop walls. Eric made the kids’ area with wood and MDF board. He glued the boards together, filled in the joints, and painted it with epoxy garage paint.

Casia admits that when they do in-studio shoots with kids, the children are taken aback when they’re told they can run around, jump, get silly. “They look at us like ‘Really? You don’t want me to sit still?'” says Casia.

If props are used in the studio, they’re in keeping with Casia and Eric’s mid century, thrifty aesthetic. It’s likely to be a mid-mod-style steel chair, with perhaps a sock monkey or two.

Most portrait photographers use their studio to show off their wares, with framed photographs, catalogs, coupons and some standard props: giant numbers to signify a child’s birthday; baseball gear for the boys of the family; wrapped fake presents at Christmas. Casia and Eric’s second floor space is sparse, urban and risky – just like so many of their photos.

Eric, a former architectural designer who turned to photography full-time to help Casia run her business, fixed up the interior himself. They have kept two exterior red brick walls, and created some more walls with shipping crates (plus a friend’s garden gate) they found abandoned in an alley. A seating area features two mid-mod sofas picked up through Craigslist, a vintage table, and a smattering of other pieces bought through Craigslist and thrifting. A powder-coated white desk and set of white wall cabinets are from IKEA.

With both the platform and the shipping crate walls, Eric made sure they were floating, and barely attached to the original floor. “Everything was built with respect for the old building,” he says.

Eric, always a keen photographer, says he has made the transition from architectural designer to professional portrait photographer well. “I still love architecture and I still read about it. I follow people and I do drawings. I get my creative outlet that way.” As well as taking photographs, Eric is in charge of their design, website and blog.

Casia got hooked on photography at Tucson High School (she still sings the praises of the school’s darkroom facilities). One teacher in particular stood out for her – a man named Jerry Halfmann. When the seniors graduated from the photography program, Mr. Hafmann would create a nickel-sized coin for each of them, using the silver from developing chemicals in the darkroom. “It had a little purple hue to it,” says Casia. Hence the name Purple Nickel.

While studying photography at the U of A, Casia worked part-time for The Picture People,  a chain of portrait photography studios. “It was stiff and rigid. You only had five poses. I knew if I had my own company it would be the complete opposite.”

Frustrated as she was, Casia found she was great with the kids – to the point where parents would request her for sessions. Even within The Picture People’s tight framework, Casia pushed the envelope. Some simple tweaking of angles and poses resulted in pictures that were out of the ordinary. Casia even persuaded her bosses to let her do an extra, sixth, pose. “With that one I got to do what I wanted.”

With Purple Nickel’s kids’ portraits, there is a 15- to 20-minute get-to-know-you session at the beginning, then another 45 minutes or more of shooting. Casia acts as a stylist too, asking the parents to bring one or two outfits and advising them on what might be a good look.

They both use Canon 5D Mark II cameras and a software program called Adobe Lightroom Presets, to make adjustments with shadows, contrast and color. Although they are full of praise for digital photography, they believe every professional photographer should learn to use film, and develop it in a dark room. “Then you understand the foundations. It’s like an architect should learn how to hand-draft and sketch,” says Casia.

Purple Nickel’s photos don’t come cheap; they reckon the average spend for a family is $2000. Kids’ portraits start at around $300. But they make no excuses for being possibly the most expensive portrait studio in Tucson.

Included in the fee is custom installation of the artwork, something Casia and Eric feel strongly about. “Sometimes it was six months or a year later and [the clients] still hadn’t hung them. Plus, I’m a control freak,” says Eric. “I wanted them to be hung correctly.”

These aren’t just photographs, says Eric. “This is art for your walls.”

* Find Purple Nickel Studio at 439 N. 6th Avenue. Tel: 520 477 8128.