From left: Nana Spears, Naomi Clark, Noah James Spencer and Elizabeth Whitcomb. Images by Kate Owen.
Sure, sure: John, Paul, George and Ringo made some pretty great music in their time. But did they also craft candlesticks? Quilt blankets? Design clothing? Mount roving art installations? Host readings? Engineer retail events? I think not.
Meet Nana, Naomi, Noah and Elizabeth. Better known as Fort Makers (or, as I like to call them, the New Fab Four). This artistically inclined quartet resides in Brooklyn (naturally) and specialize in primitive, nature-inspired interdisciplinary pieces that you may have seen without even realizing it.
Since May of this year, Fort Makers has (deep breath): 1) designed bedding for Anthroplogie 2) created Line Lights wooden light sculptures for the Modern Craft Show at New York City’s 19th century Merchant House 3) mounted their outdoor Action Painting series throughout Richmond, Virginia (including an 80-foot canvas hung on a cliff face) 4) hosted a poetry reading by Dominique Townsend at their Clinton Hill studio 5) unveiled Free Space, a floor-to-ceiling abstract psychedelic mural in a former Victoria’s Secret store at South Street Seaport, where they also 6) collaborated with Baggu on limited-edition, site-specific scarves, totes and pouches at a two-week pop-up shop) 7) designed a stage set for the MoMA PS1 Warm Up series 8) are set to debut a new Lawn Quilt series for the Dumbo Arts Festival later this week and 9) are launching their first e-com shop in October, featuring their fashion, accessories and home creations. And…exhale.
Nine projects in four months? It’s enough to make James Franco feel like a slacker.
“We think that four brains are better than one brain,” said Fort Makers creative director Nana Spears this past summer when I stopped by their sprawling workspace, located on an industrial block in the shadow of the Brooklyn–Queens Expressway. Nana, a Hopewell, New Jersey native, met painter Naomi Clark and her artist husband Noah James Spencer (both Boulder, Colorado transplants) at a wine bar near her apartment, where Noah’s best friend was the bartender. “He introduced me to all these great people from Boulder, including Naomi, and we very quickly started talking about collaborating.”
The year was 2008. Naomi was graduating from Pratt Institute and wanted an extra set of eyes for her thesis show. Nana, who had just left her job as an assistant buyer at Barneys New York, stepped in as curator and—voila!—an art collective (or “artists collaborative,” as they prefer to call it) was born.
“Naomi used to collect a lot of stuff off the street for her art and paint everything,” interjected Noah with a laugh. “We were just talking about how she doesn’t do that anymore.”
“That’s part of why I asked Nana to help me out,” replied Naomi, who sat between her co-conspirators on a small metal stool in front of one of her abstract, wildly colorful creations. “In school I made a lot of stuff and not all of it was successful. It’s not like I want to show all of it but to go through the artistic process, I have to do it physically. To bring something in and make something [out of it] is like the sketch; it’s not necessarily the final piece. I had this closet in the Pratt studio that [was used for] storage. You’d open the door and it was like these crazy bars and a tree limb that had nails on it that was super dangerous. Just too much stuff.” She shook her head ruefully.
“It was like clowns coming out of the car,” recalled Nana. “It was like more, more, more!”
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Naomi, who cites Louise Bourgeois, Marcel Duchamp, Joan Mitchell and Willem De Kooning as influences, said that Nana helped her re-channel her desire to collect found objects from a “hard edge [Robert] Rauschenberg approach” to a “more soft edge textile base. I don’t think it has stopped, it has just changed and evolved.” The result can be seen not only in Naomi’s fabric paintings but also in the group’s hand-painted blankets and appliquéd quilts, which feel not like something grandma might have made but more like something sprung from the collective mind of some left-of-center savants with strong Bauhaus leanings. (A New York Times profile compared Fort Makers’ approach—and their art—to something you might find in a Wes Anderson movie.)
Their first “Blanket Project” led to a series of dresses (which were picked up by Anthropologie) made in collaboration with Naomi’s designer friend Lauren Nevada, which led to “The Leave it to Beaver Set,” which led to “The Scarf Program,” which led to “Candlestick City,” which led to “Made in Kind” jewelry, which led to… You get the idea.
Throughout, this merry band of pranksters mounted their signature “Forts” (mobile fabric installations that function as inhabitable paintings) in Massachusetts, Utah, New Jersey and New York. And somewhere along the line, Nana’s cousin Elizabeth Whitcomb (a fledgling jewelry designer from Providence, Rhode Island who also assists with production) joined the collective, turning this band of three into the Gang of Four and adding a welcome new voice to the mix.
As for the boy in the band? Though he studied painting at University of Colorado—Boulder, Noah’s focus is on woodworking, specifically candlesticks, cutting boards, light fixtures and other household objects that look deceptively simple but are actually quite intricate in their construction. He began woodworking as a kid, a pastime his artist parents encouraged, and spent several years apprenticing to cabinetmakers and furniture craftsmen such as Patrick Townsend, Paul Loebach and Uhuru Design, after moving to New York City. “I grew up in the woods around wood,” said Noah, whose greatest inspirations are nature, music, Shaker design and George Nakashima. “I always just loved building blocks. I loved having a set of tools, ideas and materials in front of me.”
“Everyone says their parents are hippies, but Noah’s parents actually are. They lived on a school bus in the mountains in this tiny little community called Sunshine,” added Naomi. “And they are self-built. His dad works at Celestial Seasonings tea company and his mom is always trying to get you stoned. She’s like, ‘Welcome home; here’s a joint!’”
We talked about their creative process, which involves a fair amount of casual brainstorming and individual conceptualizing that is then vetted by the entire group and which seems to occur in a completely organic, unforced way—whether they’re working in the studio, walking in the park or having lunch at the communal table that has pride of place beneath the studio’s vast wall of windows.
“Forts have always been such a big part of our brand,” said Naomi when asked about the origin of the group’s name.
“The company is really inspired by collaborative groups, like the Shakers,” added Nana. “What people can do really do when they have to rely on themselves. When you think of makers, you think of a community.”
“I like to quote Picasso,” said Noah, when describing the group’s rigorous work ethic and nonstop collaborations, both with each other and with outside artists. “Somebody asked why he worked 10 hours a day and he said, ‘In case I have a good idea.’ Which I think is great. You have to work through all the other ideas before something new will pop out…”
“…They’re not all going to be good,” said his wife.
“…You have to sift them out,” replied Noah, finishing her thought.
The group nodded in agreement, surrounded by their labors of love and pondering their next move, which will be coming soon to a gallery…or store…or street corner near you.
