FACES IN FOCUS: TRAILBLAZERS

Brooke Ray Martin-Éder has never been able to sit still. The New York native and dancer has the impulse to adapt to each moment before it passes. Competing, choreographing, and performing, Brooke travels the world with grace. “The more present I am in the moment, the more I can feel every part of my body,” she says.

Lou feels most beautiful when she doesn’t think about how she looks, despite the pressures of working as an actress and a model. Last year, she shot a new series, Rare, set in a not-so-distant dystopian future. The parallels between the show and our own society are not lost on her: “I’m kind of scared about what’s going on in the world right now,” Lou says. Nonetheless, “I want to not be scared.” She’s rising to the challenge.

Does standing out from the crowd really matter? Not to writer and artist Kay Kasparhauser. “I don’t know that I really believe in originality. I think that sometimes people prioritize it over making something they actually care about,” she says. As of late, the things that move Kay are made of plaster, foam, and latex, synthesized into sculptures that are, arguably, like nothing else.

Emma Kohlmann’s art evokes themes of eroticism and androgyny. Whimsical vignettes, drawn from her inner life, come to fruition in ink and watercolor. “I relate to the world through painting, through figuration,” Emma explains. It’s her sense of community—rooted in mutual aid, in producing art with friends—that counters doubt. She’s moved by a simple mantra: “You just have to do it.”

Coco Gordon Moore writes poetry with the wit of Eve Babitz, the rhythm of Bernadette Mayer, and a contemporary edge all her own. The daughter of noise rock legend Kim Gordon, she’s fluent in all things New York, pulling from its creative community as she forays into the world of directing. Coco, in fact, draws from all over: her stuffed animal collection, Greek mythology, reality TV. It comes together to form an eclectic creative practice that crosses mediums and eras.

Anastasia Coope is set on protecting her peace. Her simple resolve adds context to the way she eased into music. Anastasia never imagined herself in the field; she fell into it after getting her hands on some recording software in a relative’s empty home in Beacon, New York. Since then, she’s produced expressive and unembellished melodies, releasing her album, Darning Woman, last year.

Barbara Tober’s CV would put most editors to shame. For 30 years, she manned Brides magazine and later moved to Vogue. Now, she heads Acronym, a philanthropic fund, and has a fabulous time freelancing, “doing whatever I want to do in the art world.” And what better stomping grounds than New York? Says Barbara, “The city is pulsing with all sorts of ideas and new things to do tomorrow.”

Raven Harvin is relishing in her breakout moment, while she studies at the New York City College of Technology, DJs, and models for Chanel Beauty. She cultivates a platform from which to “inspire others and make them feel beautiful,” advocating, in particular, for women of color with disabilities. Raven remains staunch in her philosophy that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Toyin Ojih Odutola makes her mark with charcoal, pastel, and ballpoint pen, producing textured portraits that interrogate the fragmented nature of identity. Lately, the artist looks to her family for inspiration. She imagines her future not through her work, but through them—how she might, for instance, find new ways to make her nephew laugh. In that vein, Toyin carries the philosophy imparted by her late grandmother: to find joy through pain. “If you can’t laugh, you’re in trouble,” she says.

Constance Cooper isn’t clairvoyant, but she “looks into the future” every time she performs. This seems to grant her a certain wisdom on her quest to stay innovative: “I make absolutely certain I’m surrounded by people who know better than I, because that kind of freshness, that kind of attachment to the unexpected, is stimulating.” The model-activist-composer came to free improvisation—a fledgling musical field—for its spontaneity.