With a new space (at last!) the owners of MAST are back and ready to ride the wave of an up-and-coming westside location. By Gillian Drummond

MAST's new space looks out onto the end of the new streetcar line. Photo by Gillian Drummond

It's been a long summer, not just for MAST regulars, but for the owners of the store. After three years in Tucson's Lost Barrio shopping district, on Park Avenue at Broadway, the three owners opted to move to new digs at Mercado San Agustin.

Tasha Bundy, Sofie Albertsen Gelb and Mellow Dawn Lund spent the summer working out of their homes as their new space was transformed (it was bare bones before, with a concrete floor, bare walls and untouched ceiling). And while it wasn't ideal to be lacking a brick-and-mortar store, they welcomed the fact they had cooling; their last shop, vast as it was, had no air conditioning, which made the summer months difficult.

Inside, MAST's jewelry is meticulously displayed in a range of cabinets. Photo by Gillian Drummond

The West Congress location, just past Interstate 10, is slowly but surely becoming a go-to venue. It has hosted farmers' markets and charitable events, and in December will hold a Holiday bazaar. There are two bakeries, soon to be joined by Tana Fryer's flagship cheese and wine shop, Blu. And Lodge on the Desert's Ryan Clark will become an executive chef and partner of the new Agustin Kitchen, to open next month. Looking out of the corner space of MAST, you can see where Tucson's new streetcar will end.

"I really feel this part of the city's going to pick up," says Gary Patch, who with his partner Darrren Clark was responsible for remodeling MAST's interior (architects and contractors were Repp McLain).

MAST is, from left, Tasha Bundy, Mellow Dawn Lund, and Sofie Albertsen Gelb. Photo by Gillian Drummond

They say three's a crowd, and when it comes to business, even two partners can be tricky. So to have three entrepreneurs making a retail operation work, and staying friends at the same time, is no small feat.

"I think it's shocking. I think it's amazing," says Mellow, only half joking. What are their strengths and their weaknesses? They evade the question. "Let's move on," says Mellow breezily. But the joking and butt pinching that ensues, the gentle jibes and the easy chemistry, demonstrates that, whatever ther personalities and personality clashes, this threesome works.

They describe their wares as "genuine radical". They range from jewelry to home goods, and what they sell and how they are displayed are a mix of old and new - but always different. The women's focus remains the same: "to keep things local, well-made, and if not locally then at least U.S.-made", says Sofie.

Sofie makes jewelry and lighting; Mellow makes leather purses, bags and clutches; Tasha makes jewelry (her latest fascination is with using tiny brightly-colored vinyl discs sliced from records, and sourced at Tucson's Gem, Mineral & Fossil Showcase from a dealer in Africa.)

Other brands they carry include Richer Poorer Inc (socks); Imogene + Willie (jeans), Hollow Ground (straight men's razors from the 1920s and '30s), and La Curie, a perfume range from Tucsonan Lesli Wood. Their wares are meticulously displayed in antique cabinets, on thrifted tables, beside Sofie's own birdcages, alongside a Venetian-style mirror by Patch & Clark Design.

Some of Tasha Bundy's record vinyl jewelry. Photo by Gillian Drummond

The background was deliberately kept clean so that their products stand out, says Gary Patch of this space that combines several different styles in one. It remains true to the rest of the Mercado San Agustin with traditional European touches, such as a glass-doored vestibule, but also brings in femininity (a widely curved soffit painted grey), modern Scandinavian (a whitewashed hickory floor), and a cheeky nod to its name (a circular porthole window).

And what of the name? MAST is an acronym of all their names (plus a fourth partner, now departed), and seemed fitting for a new business setting sail. They decided to keep it.

* MAST is at Mercado San Agustin, 100 South Avenida Del Convento, Tuesday through Saturday 11am to 6pm. Check their website at www.ilovemast.com for Holiday hours.

* The 6th annual Mercado San Agustin Holiday Bazaar takes place December 20th, 21st and 22nd.

A mirror by Patch and Clark forms part of the decor. Photo by Gillian Drummond

He's been devoting his time, money and heart and soul to the Tucson arts scene for decades. On the eve of the launch of his latest community art project, we thought it was about time to celebrate the man himself: David Aguirre. By Joan Calcagno.

David Aguirre outside the Steinfeld Warehouse, where it all began. Photo by Craig Bellmann

It may come as a surprise to anyone who knows anything about David Aguirre that he got his start as an air traffic controller in the Navy. This artist-turned-art-instigator, a man with his finger in so many pies in Tucson's arts scene that it's hard to keep track of him, is about as far from the military as you can imagine. But then again, military living can be pretty bare-bones, and that is certainly part of David’s frugal lifestyle.

His first digs in Tucson were in the basement of the Steinfeld Warehouse, where he camped out on a dirt floor. Even today, he practically camps, living in a tiny space with no cooking facilities. And as David points out, air traffic control was not that different than the decades of constant activity necessary to survive as an artist and keep artist organizations and spaces afloat. “I’m still running traffic patterns above an airport, with all the surprises,” he quipped when we sat down at Steinfeld Warehouse Community Arts Center to discuss, among other things, a new mobile art gallery, Planet Rabbit.

He has a long history with the warehouse. He lived in the basement when he arrived here in 1987; he had a ceramic studio there in the early to mid-90s; and he’s back as Executive Director of Dinnerware Artspace (everyone calls it Dinnerware), which now has its home base at the warehouse.

Photo by Craig Bellmann

David learned a long time ago that the best way to get things done is to just do it - create something that people are in awe of, and do it with others. His philosophy is: when you see something that needs to be done, get the idea out there and see what materializes (or doesn’t). He’s clear that when you bring people together, you have to embrace the creative process, which he describes as “a true artist approach - not knowing the outcome and being okay with that.” He adds: “Top-down doesn’t work.”

Indeed, when talking about all his involvements, David names numerous others as instrumental collaborators and connectors. To mention some would risk not mentioning them all, and mentioning any would make this story twice as long. So we’re focusing on David here.

He struggled to find himself after growing up in San Antonio, Texas. He left for the Navy in 1976, right out of high school and much to the consternation of his parents. “I wanted to get away and to travel," he says. Then in 1980 he went back to school - the University of Texas, San Antonio - on the GI bill. In college he floundered around. After trying “everything else”, he followed an adviser's suggestion that he try a ceramics class. It wasn’t long before the epiphany hit: “Oh s**t. I’m going to be an artist”. The creative dam burst, and he has been promoting art ever since, starting with his own.

It was in college that he started making what later became his signature ceramic figures, mostly small-ish pieces with human bodies and animal heads – “playing with the human-spirit-nature connection.”

'Energy fields' in ceramic and paint by David Aguirre. Photo courtesy of Dinnerware Artspace/David Aguirre

He graduated in 1983 with a BA in Fine Art and left for the Sun Valley Idaho Center for the Arts, on a one-year scholarship. Although he felt out of place among “the beautiful people “ – movie stars and famous artists who congregate there – he met  some of them and realized “they are all like me, just normal people doing their thing”, which was hugely encouraging. He experimented, eventually discarding the wheel and focusing on hand-built figures.

Then he was off to Madison, Wisconsin for three years of grad school, again on a scholarship. Without the need to have a job for the first time, he leapt into his ceramic work.

Ready to get out of the cold and recalling a fascination with Tucson and its Native American cultural roots from childhood car trips to Disneyland, he arrived here in 1987 with no money and no job.  He quickly got involved in the Tucson arts scene, starting with an invitation to be on the Arts District Partnership board. He survived by selling his ceramic sculptures. He “cranked it out”, traveling all over the west and mid-west, participating in shows and small events, stopping en route at friends’ places to make more stock. Always the entrepreneur, he made a lot of small pieces to sell for $50 “just to get the work out there”.

Photo courtesy of Dinnerware Artspace/David Aguirre

In the early 1990s, he got more involved volunteering with Tucson art organizations. He traveled less and shipped his pieces to galleries more. Thinking “someone’s got to do it”, he was often the only artist on committees primarily made up of lawyers and business people and usually, he says, talking in acronyms he didn’t understand. This was a whole new world for him.

His transition from making objects to art-promotion-as-art really started then.  Along with other artists, David had his studio in the Steinfeld Warehouse. Across the street was the boarded-up Citizen’s Warehouse. David got a group of artists together with the Arizona Department of Transportation, who owned the building at the time, to lease the building and create studios. He later took a huge financial gamble, assumed the lease himself, and dove into a massive upgrade.

Transforming the building into usable spaces became his art, he says. He transferred his creativity into learning all kinds of things related to construction and renovation – like design drawings, plumbing, code compliance, and insurance. The warehouse became an example of things happening with the arts in Tucson and for David it was a big boost of encouragement.  When the relationship with Bicycle Inter-Community Art & Salvage (BICAS), one of the sub-leasees, got tricky, the Warehouse Arts Management Organization (WAMO) proposed taking over and David stepped back.  The warehouse is still going, with 28 artists and BICAS as tenants.

Stepping up is how David also became the Executive Director of Dinnerware in 2009. He’s been involved with Dinnerware off-and-on since the early 1990s, when it was an artist cooperative. He volunteered, helping with the annual art auctions and then with building improvements after Dinnerware purchased its space on Congress Street in about 1993.

One of Dinnerware's fashion shows. Photo courtesy of David Aguirre/Dinnerware Artspace

In the early 2000's Dinnerware was experiencing financial challenges and had to relinquish its building and move. The board asked David to help as an adviser and eventually, to be on the board. With public funding and grant money dropping off, and artist member dues making it harder to attract younger artists, David proposed a new structure: move from an artist-member model to an interactive model, with community-based art events.

So, rather than the traditional 30-day exhibits, Dinnerware started doing events, sometimes with a small admission fee. This spread out the fundraising, with everyone contributing a small amount to raise money. And they started to take advantage of social media. Dinnerware has been operating that way ever since. In 2009, faced with the possibility of closing shop, David was asked to take up the Director position, and, as he had done before, he said “OK. I’ll do it” and he ratcheted up the activities.

Titus Castanza, a long-time Dinnerware volunteer and board member for six years, and with a painting studio at the Citizen’s Warehouse, says David’s gift is getting artists together, creating ideas and letting them run with it. “It blows my mind. He’ll have some crazy idea that seems like it will never work and then it does!” says Titus.

Some of those "crazy ideas" that David has helped happen since he became director, along with painting exhibits like Pollos de Pueblos, are local designers’ fashion shows and exchanges; Let Them Eat Cupcakes (an interactive  performance art and installation piece reflecting thoughts about hunger and the scale of hunger in the United States); Ignite Tucson (fifteen visionaries provide a five-minute, twenty-image presentation on an interesting, innovative topic); Night of a Thousand Drawings (anyone could donate a small piece; they were displayed, for sale, clothesline style); SlideShark (artists and  DJs collaborated to make, and then present, short iMovies), and Eat Dinner-Fund an Artist (the public was invited to a $20 dinner, six or so artists made five-minute presentations about their work, everyone voted and the winner went home with $500.)

And while he was doing all that, he got people together to start three other galleries, including Central Arts, which had been dormant when David put out a call and 60 artists showed up. “I told them ‘you are it’. We’re gonna do it.” Once the structure was set up, they did their own shows and ran on their own energy, and still do.

In the Fall of 2011, the Food Truck Roundups started. With David at the helm, there are three or four round-ups a week with about nine trucks participating. The Facebook page has almost 20,000 followers, up 2,000 just in the course of us putting this story together.

David was one of the founders of the Tucson Food Truck Round-Up, now with thousands of followers. Photo courtesy of David Aguirre

Why does he do it? The answer is surprisingly simple: It needed to be done and there was no one else to do it. “I’m often the last one standing,” he says. Others eventually have other commitments. “I have the time others don’t. I don’t have any kids or a mortgage. So I do it.” It is apparent that he has made life choices that have allowed him to be, and remain, available.  “I guess the projects are my kids. I’m kind of an adoption agency. I make these things and then try to get them adopted. Just like with my ceramic sculpture pieces in the past.”

David has always been frugal, especially with minimizing living expenses. In grad school he started in an apartment, then moved into his artist studio. In Sun Valley he lived in an attic space that no one knew about. And there was the Steinfeld Warehouse basement when he got to Tucson. Now he lives at Shane House, which was a closed-up boarding house before the Tucson Arts Coalition (the same folks who saved the Temple of Music and Art from destruction) purchased it from the city in 1990 and restored it.

He exchanges a room and a salary for the endless tasks necessary to maintaining the building and managing the tenants in 13 small apartments rented mostly to younger artists and musicians who need a lot of flexibility. His tiny living space at Shane House has no cooking facilities. ”I only sleep there.” That's why you can often see him out and about eating or socializing downtown (the Food Trucks, in particular, provide regular meals).

The Planet Rabbit truck, heightened and transformed. Photo courtesy of David Aguirre

Also, having a number of income streams helps with the ebb and flow. Twenty percent of food truck round-up proceeds, paid on the honor system after each round-up, go to Dinnerware to sustain the events and to David so he can focus time and energy on keeping things happening. "I help support the food truck owners and it helps me make a living and keeps the arts alive," he says.

When you are out there trying to make things happen for the arts for as long as David has been, it’s not surprising to hear that he has his detractors as well as his cheerleaders. Kerfuffles of the past can still follow him, but he says he can’t let negativity keep him from moving forward; he has to balance the criticism with compliments, trying to be open and respond as best he can.

The primary cheerleaders right now are food truck owners who can concentrate on their craft while David takes care of the logistics and promotion of round-ups. Ray Duke, owner of Kadooks food truck, says the roundups have been a “game-changer" for food trucks in Tucson. Without the round-ups he would have to be seeking out events himself or “parking and hoping”, which is not very profitable. He doesn’t mind paying the 20% commission. ”David provides a service and makes it possible to make the money," he says.

But what do food trucks have to do with the arts? David views them in the same category. “I realized that the food truck chefs are culinary artists. And like many artists, they really wanted to focus on their craft and leave the promotional side to someone else,” he says.

And now comes Planet Rabbit. David had seen a a mobile art gallery in Santa Fe, talked with the people running it and thought “I’m going to do that too”. There was some money saved in the Dinnerware account from the food truck share and when he saw a step-van for sale, he bought it.

Through an exchange with a Shane House artist/welder, the van is getting built-out and modified. They extended the roof to create a high ceiling, and stripped the exterior to its beautiful aluminum finish.

Launching this month, it will serve as a mobile art gallery with two-dimensional contemporary art, hung salon-style. Planet Rabbit will be stationed at the Food Truck Round-ups, which picks up on the idea of taking a little bit of downtown out to the neighborhoods. It was well received at a test run last month at the Toole Avenue Art Walk. David loves the idea of mobile venues; he says we may see spin-offs of Planet Rabbit to other areas like mobile massages or salons.

As for the name, David has always had a fascination with rabbits. And besides, he says: “Now names are just catchy and random.”

Inside Planet Rabbit. Photo by Craig Bellmann

Another Dinnerware-sponsored event about to happen is FemArts, which will feature unique installation pieces by 15 to 20 women artists. It takes place November 14^th and 15^th at the Steinfeld Warehouse. The building itself will be a substantial part of each installation. David brought the group of women artists together because it’s not being done elsewhere now. He likes to look at an exhibit as a beginning, not an end point and is hoping it is an opportunity for a new group to form, if that’s what those involved want.

David is all about keeping Dinnerware and the arts in Tucson alive. He’ll be focusing on working with WAMO, which is now managing the Steinfeld Warehouse, to help clarify the direction. He believes that in five to ten years it will be a wonderful art center, although how that will manifest itself is yet to be seen. He’s not done yet, according to Titus Castanza. “David has yet to realize his greatest achievement.”

As for David, he regards the time he spent in the 90s, working alone in his studio, as the sweet days.  “Will I get back to that? I don’t know”. For the sake of the arts in Tucson, there are many here who are hoping that even if he does, his “art adoption agency” never closes.

* Planet Rabbit launches this month. Stay tuned to its Facebook page for details.

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.

In a London townhouse, designer Charles Mellersh used white as a backdrop for colorful and vintage pieces. Photo by Chris Tubbs

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.

Purple Nickel's white studio wall. Photo by Gillian Drummond

Purple Nickel's owners chose to frame certain objects. Photo by Gillian Drummond

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.

The Notting Hill kitchen, by Charles Mellersh. Photo by Chris Tubbs

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.

In the London townhouse, Charles Mellersh had panels put on the walls to add architectural interest. Photo by Chris Tubbs

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.

Sugar Sweet Bakery went all-white for its backsplash and main wall. Photo by Liam Frederick.

The chalkboards add contrast to a white wall at Sugar Sweet Bakery. Photo by Gillian Drummond

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.

Another wall at Sugar Sweet Bakery is all-black chalkboard paint. Photo by Gillian Drummond

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."

The mani-pedi area at Hush Salon. Photo by Christopher Bowden Photography LLC

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.

A kitchen island by Poliform features a contrast of brown oak. Photo by Gillian Drummond

Poliform kitchen. Photo by Gillian Drummond

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.

Kathryn Prideaux brought in different textures to break up the white bathroom. Photo courtesy of Prideaux Design

Kathryn Prideaux designed this client's bathroom with an old world feel but clean aesthetic. Photo courtesy of Prideaux Design

"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.

More white-on-white at the townhouse designed by Charles Mellersh. Photo by Chris Tubbs