>> Coming up next
on Wisconsin Life...
>> If you're going to surf here,
you need to kind of learn what
the weather's going to do.
>> It was one of those monster
turning points in your life,
where everything
was different after that.
You look back now,
and it all seems so clear.
>> Most of these young men
and women have never been
recognized for anything positive
that they've ever done.
>> Soaring is the poetry of
aviation.
*
>> Funding for Wisconsin Life
is provided in part
by Alliant Energy,
Bremer Bank,
Lowell and Mary Peterson,
the L.E. Phillips
Family Foundation,
and Friends
of Wisconsin Public Television.
>> My name is Sandra.
>> And my name is Wence.
>> And this is our
Wisconsin Life.
[birds singing]
>> In Door County,
just south of Jacksonport,
and just off Highway 57,
there's an old garage
with two stories.
And inside, two artists
with stories all their own.
On the second floor,
there's Sandra,
who works on paper.
More on her later.
And on the first floor,
there's Wence,
a man who's lived his life
at the loom.
>> It's in my blood.
It's just,
I can't get away from it.
>> Wence grew up
in Oaxaca, Mexico,
in a family and in a village
where most everyone wove.
>> I used to watch my dad weave
at night.
I would sit under the loom
and watch his hands weaving.
And I always thought,
man, I can't wait to help him.
When I got to be 9,
I reached the loom,
I could reach the loom,
so I started weaving.
>> As a teenager, Wence
took art classes in Mexico city.
He wanted to do more
than maintain tradition.
He wanted to make something new.
>> When I was weaving
for somebody else in Mexico,
working for somebody else,
they would say, okay, I need
50 pieces of this design,
or whatever, how many pieces.
So I would repeat those a lot.
So one of the things
I really wanted to do
was create my own designs.
>> Sandra started young, too.
Not in Mexico, but Milwaukee.
>> I was an obsessive potter
from the age of 14
in Milwaukee.
And even before then,
there was a sandbox out back,
and I would dig through the sand
to get to the clay
underneath the sand,
and then make stuff out of it,
and then be a complete mess.
>> She stuck with it,
studying ceramics in college.
But as a young woman,
Sandra traded clay
for pencil, paint and paper.
>> I developed these
personal drawings that are
like primitive drawings.
They're very stick-figure-ish.
They're very simple.
>> She kept working,
kept drawing,
until one conversation
changed everything.
>> I had no idea that it was
one of those monster
turning points in your life,
where everything
was different after that.
You look back now,
and it all seems so clear.
But at the time, it wasn't.
I was in Chicago,
and my girlfriend from college
said, "I've been to this
incredible village where
they are incredible weavers,
and they can weave anything.
I think your drawings would
look really cool as a weaving.
So give me one
and I'll take it there."
So I did.
I gave her this little
ink painting on some terrible
newsprint.
Days later, that newsprint
turned up at Wence's family
business.
I said, man, that looks
very interesting.
So, I said, okay,
I'm going to do that.
So, I wove that piece
and, you know,
after we finished it,
we shipped it back to the U.S.
>> Six months later,
this thing arrives that's 4x6'
from this little painting.
And it is so true
to the hand-drawn line
that I was completely amored
with it.
I wanted to meet the weaver
who made that piece, and
I wanted collaborate and do more
work with that exact person,
because the spirit of him
was so evident.
>> So Sandra saved her money
and traveled to Oaxaca.
She met Wence,
and they agreed to collaborate.
He would weave 15 of Sandra's
pieces.
Sandra returned home,
but the two kept in touch
through long-distance calls
and through their work.
And while they built
a collection of weavings,
they also built a relationship.
That work and that relationship
came together in 1988,
when the two
displayed their work
at Chicago's Field Museum.
>> When we met, we were just
so attracted to each other.
And then, I came here,
when she was living in Chicago,
that's when we started,
like, getting more serious
about our relationship.
>> There were definitely people
in both of our worlds
who were like, are you sure?
You're so different.
But when you get right down
to it, what we have in common
are the things
that are most important.
>> And so Wence and Sandra,
well, tied the knot.
They moved to Door County,
and eventually opened
their first studio
in an old chicken house.
Within a few years, they
upgraded to that two-story
garage, and along the way,
they developed the kind of
collaboration few can match.
>> Really, from the minute
we met, we just felt like
we were connected at the hip.
>> Their weavings have gained
national attention.
In 2013, they were accepted
into the Smithsonian Craft Show
in Washington, D.C.
But for all they've learned
about design,
Wence and Sandra Martinez
have learned something else,
the art of weaving two stories
into one.
>> We love it.
I don't know,
I don't think we'd be happy
any other way.
You know, we struggled so hard
to be together,
that once we were together,
we're grateful for that.
That's a gift.
*
>> I'm Judy Ruprecht and this is
my Wisconsin Life .
*
>> We're here at Beloit Airport
in southern Wisconsin on a
beautiful day for flying
gliders.
There's a lot of pushing a
pulling and community effort
that goes into running a glider
operation.
[propeller hums]
We're about 4,000 feet above
ground.
I'm going to pull the release
and we're going to make a
gradual right turn.
Okay.
[level clicks]
There's that.
[propeller hums]
[silence]
In this part of Beloit, there's
a Walmart and Menard's, and
assorted other places that just
have big, giant parking lots.
A parking lot heats up better
than the surrounding grass.
And that temperature difference,
while the warmer air starts to
rise, as it does it begins to
rotate, typically, and form a
column of rising air.
Now, the idea with this circling
is that this is a column of
rising air.
To stay in it we need to circle.
And we're able to climb, and
have some fun flying where the
hawk and other birds fly.
When I was a little kid I used
to have dreams that I physically
could fly, just like a bird.
One day, however, driving down
the road I saw these two planes
and wondered, what was that?
Well, it was a tow plane and a
glider.
I followed them to the airport
and went to take a ride.
I thought I was just going for a
ride, which is fine.
But when we were up flying the
pilot said, okay, this does
this, this does that.
And he's showing me all how the
controls work.
And then he said, okay, now you
can fly.
I just remember that phrase was
amazing.
You can fly.
Really?
That was on May 28, 1972.
Soaring is the poetry of
aviation.
It is a challenge to fly a
glider and be able to stay up.
The fact that you have 900 or
1,000 pounds worth of aircraft
that's no sinking.
No, it's climbing.
You're trying to get the best
performance out of yourself,
from the aircraft, reading the
weather, decision-making in
flight.
Shall I go to this cloud or
shall I go to that cloud?
This is the art and technique of
exploring what's possible with
the aircraft.
We have the same set of controls
as any powered aircraft, save
those which are related to the
engine.
But we have three axes of
control, we can control pitch
and roll and side to side with
the nose in the same way that an
airplane pilot does.
There is that kind of
competition sometimes between
pilots flying on the same day,
even though it's not an
organized competition.
The question is, how well can
you do?
Can you keep up with the other
guys?
Can you be the leader of the
pack?
The feeling that I get is a
sense of challenge and
possibilities, and the freedom
in that aircraft to try my best
every time I fly.
It's a constant reward that I
get from flying.
>> Still to come,
on Wisconsin Life
Dave Cieslewicz takes us back
to his boyhood, when he first
learned the rules of the game
Sheepshead.
>> Meanwhile, my grandfather,
cigar in his mouth, was dealing.
First three at once
to each of the five players,
then two in the blind,
then three more to each
of the boys around the table.
I don't exactly remember the
first time I was invited to that
table, but it must've been about
the same time I was learning how
to ride a bike.
That's fitting because just as
it's hard to teach an adult to
ride a bike, it's extremely
difficult to teach
a grown, rational human being
to play Sheepshead.
I know, because I've tried.
>> That's coming up later on
isconsin Life.W
*
>> We are In a New Light.
>> Together: And this is
our Wisconsin Life.
>> Pictures
can be powerful.
[shutter clicks]
>> Just being able to express
yourself, you know, share
your vision with the world.
>> They can show
shadow and light,
beauty and balance.
And with the right subject,
they can even bring
a little joy.
>> They just make me feel happy.
>> But sometimes,
for some teenagers,
the big picture
can be pretty dark.
>> Breaking into cars,
and my anger, my depression.
>> Drug issues.
>> The one thing that they have
in common is that,
for one reason or another,
they've lost hope
in their lives.
>> Kind of getting in trouble
at school, and you know,
trouble with the law.
>> They've come to conclude
for one reason or another,
whether it be
a severe mental health issue,
whether it be a very challenging
family or home circumstance,
that when they invest
in theirself, it's still
going to turn out really bad.
>> A lot of just misbehaving,
basically.
I had nowhere else to go.
>> So, they've often just given
up.
>> "They" are teenagers
from around the country.
Each has been brought
to northern Wisconsin, to
a residential treatment program
called "Northwest Passage."
They come in need of hope
and a fresh start.
>> The majority are referred
through like the county
juvenile justice system.
But a fairly decent percentage
are also referred through
families.
>> Ben Thwaits is one of their
teachers.
But before he came to
the classroom, Ben already knew
plenty about giving others
the right perspective.
>> I worked professionally
for two years in photography.
Being a nature photographer
is still a really core piece
of who I am.
When I started the job at
Northwest Passage as a teacher,
I was always looking for ways
to get nature photography
into the classroom.
>> A few years ago,
Ben got a grant from
the National Parks Foundation
to do just that.
>> Not a particularly ambitious
proposal, just enough to get us
a handful of cameras, and enough
just to get the kids out,
you know, once a week,
and get them shooting photos.
Then, probably in three
or four weeks, we realized
that we were onto something
really special,
because these kids started
investing into their photography
way beyond what I've ever seen
in any other school program.
They started taking
truly astonishing photos.
>> Ben called the program
"In a New Light."
And along with pictures
of the world outside, the
students started writing poems
about the world within.
[shutter clicks]
>> I feel that this fish
is like my little brother,
always smiling
and probably loves his mother.
One day, this fish
will end up in heaven.
So will I.
We'll be there together.
>> I always wonder
what the world would be like
through the eyes
of something as small
as a dragonfly.
>> Sometimes the only thing
that can make you happy
is a plain flower.
You just need to view it
in a special way
and turn it into your sunny day.
>> When I was a little kid,
I used to see water
push on rocks.
When my mom and I
were at the bridge,
my mom said
she wouldn't let me fall.
>> This picture
gave me a chance to realize
the thing I had been
missing out on in life.
>> These pictures can be a door
through which they can access
their feelings,
their hopes, their struggles,
and to process their lives
in a way that's way different
than a therapist's couch.
>> It's a way for me
to express myself without
actually talking to people,
because sometimes I don't want
to just talk to people.
>> It's inherently therapeutic,
just to spend time in nature.
So what this project is doing
is tapping into that
inherent therapeutic element
of time and nature.
>> Students in the program
have sn plenty of nature.
While they spend most of their
time along the St. Croix River,
they've also traveled
out of state, to National Parks
like Yellowstone and
Rocky Mountain National Park,
all through grants from
the National Parks foundation.
>> We make a very conscientious
effort to share their work
with the world,
keeping in mind that most
of these young men and women
have never been recognized
for anything positive
that they've ever done.
The only recognition that
they've got has been for things
that they've done wrong.
>> But Ben says maybe the traits
that cause these students
to stumble are the same traits
that cause their work to shine.
[shutter clicks]
>> Think of, you know, what are
the traits that kind of
make these kids who they are.
For one,
they're often risk-takers.
They're sensation-seekers.
They don't necessarily
respect convention.
But if you think of, well, what
are the traits of great artists?
Well, they're risk-takers.
They're sensation-seekers.
They don't care what people
think.
They don't necessarily
respect convention.
So, I think that it's really,
we're figuring out a way
to harness the inherent
characteristics
in so many of these kids
and translate them into
a very, very positive outlook.
[shutter clicks]
*
>> I'm Alex, and this is
my Wisconsin Life.
>> If good things come
to those who wait.
[surf crashes]
>> You've just got to be
really flexible.
>> Then Alex Marx and his buddy
Steen are in for quite a day.
[laughs]
>> You get that
extra sense of satisfaction,
'cause you waited
and put in your time.
>> You learn those lessons
when living your dream
means waiting on the weather.
>> Like I think we're under
a watch right now,
but it's just the fog
has really suppressed the surf.
>> And waiting on the waves.
>> I mean, if you're gonna surf
here, you just kind of have to
learn how to read, you know,
what the weather is gonna do.
>> He should know.
Alex has been surfing
around Sheboygan since he was
a freshman in high school.
>> Eight, nine years.
>> He still remembers
that first time.
>> It was right over there,
at first jetty.
On a day in the summer,
on this like,
crappy 9-foot board
that, you know, we acquired.
Gee, I think my brother
pushed me into my first wave,
and it was that.
It was like, I want that again.
>> On this day,
the weather eventually clears,
and the 41-degree water...
[surf crashes]
calls to Alex and een.
>> Of course,
when you surf in Lake Michigan,
even the best days
come with challenges.
>> Fresh water reacts different
than salt.
It's less buoyant,
because it doesn't have salt.
And it's just a weaker wave,
you know.
It's generated from less energy.
So, you've got to be
kind of geared up with
the right equipment, you know,
to have a good experience here.
>> In these waters,
you need thick skin,
sometimes two layers.
>> I really hate wet wetsuits.
There's a point
where it's just gets too cold.
Ice'll form on your person,
you know, too fast.
And the ice, you know,
if that shelf isn't too tall,
you know, it's a big hazard.
But it's pretty much dependent
on the ice.
If there's no ice,
we'll still do it.
>> Even when they have
the right temperatures,
surfers don't always have
free time.
>> I go with the flow.
College just sort of happened.
I'm going for an environmental
geography degree.
>> Still, the surf
keeps pulling them back.
>> People just tend to learn
that we're not that reliable.
Like, at least in my family
circle, if I show up late
to Thanksgiving
because I was surfing,
no one's going to care.
Skip school, skip work,
skip people.
They know the drill.
>> It may sound extreme
for a hobby, which is why
Alex says his time on the lake
is much more than that.
>> Once you're in, you're not
getting out, because, you know,
it becomes part of you.
It's part of your life.
It's something you can't
just undo or stop doing.
>> There's, you know,
people that are 15
all the way up to 65, you know,
some of like the original guys.
They're still getting out here,
and then, you know, kind of
the newest generation.
There's nowhere else
you want to be.
There's nothing else
you're thinking of.
You're in that moment, and
you just want to keep grabbing
another one, and another one.
That's the life.
*
>> I'm Dave Cieslewicz and this
was, and is, my Wisconsin Life.
*
>> In my grandparents' bungalow
near 31st and Rogers on
Milwaukee's south side,
the dining room table had been
cleared of the ham, and the mock
chicken legs, and the boiled
buttered potatoes with chives,
and the salad, which was really
coleslaw, and the dinner rolls.
A dessert of cheese torte and
pies had reclaimed the space
briefly, but that was gone now,
too.
All those plates and silverware
and serving bowls and pots and
pans were joined by my
grandmother, and my mother,
and sister in the kitchen
to be washed and put away.
It was the 1960s.
Women could vote
and wash the dishes.
Back in the dining room, it was
time to play sheepshead.
My grandfather, a man of few
words, would simply get out the
cards and put a handful of
nickels and dimes on the table.
My father and brothers and I
would gather around the table,
and my grandfather,
still without saying a word,
would start to deal the cards.
"One, two, three, double on the
bump," my dad would announce.
As if we needed to be reminded.
We always played, one, two,
three, double on the bump.
What else was there?
Meanwhile, my grandfather, cigar
in his mouth, was dealing.
First three at once
to each of the five players,
then two in the blind,
then three more to each
of the boys around the table.
I don't exactly remember the
first time I was invited to that
table, but it must've been about
the same time I was learning how
to ride a bike.
That's fitting, because just as
it's hard to teach an adult
to ride a bike, it's extremely
difficult to teach a grown,
rational human being
to play sheepshead.
I know, because I've tried.
A decade ago, I taught a bunch
of my Madison friends how to
play.
Most had played euchre.
That's a good start, I told
them, euchre is a perfectly fine
game for those who can't handle
the intellectual challenge of
sheepshead.
The rules of the game start with
the fact that the queen of
clubs, followed by all the oth
queens, are the strongest cards
in the deck.
Which starts to make up for the
fact that we were playing cards
and the women were doing the
dishes.
But the strongest cards aren't
worth the most points.
No, queens are only worth
three points.
Jacks are worth two.
Kings are worth four.
Aces count for 11 points.
Tens are worth, well, what else,
ten points.
Nines, eights, and sevens would
be worth how many points then?
That's right, none.
You don't play with the cards
under the seven at all.
Those are the basics.
From there, it gets complicated.
These days, my grandfather is
gone, and my dad and brothers
never play anymore.
But I have that Madison game
twice a month at UW's Memorial
Union Rathskeller, and now,
sometimes at the Echo Tap,
because one of our group had
the good sense to buy a tavern
in which to play sheepshead.
In late November, some of us
combine deer hunting and
sheepshead and a little beer
in a trifecta of Wisconsin guy
sacraments.
But we only play after we've
done the dishes.
>> We want to know,
what's your Wisconsin Life?
*
This week, Maranda from
Sun Prairie sent us
"Maggie Loves Milk".
And let us say, we heartily
approve of Maggie's dinnertime
viewing choice,
Wisconsin Public Television,
of course.
You can share pictures and video
of your Wisconsin Life
by sending them to
wisconsinlife@wpt.org
*
>> Funding for Wisconsin Life
is provided in part
by Alliant Energy,
Bremer Bank,
Lowell and Mary Peterson,
the L.E. Phillips
Family Foundation,
and Friends
of Wisconsin Public Television.