Spider, Wolf, Ram & Rogue: Siolo Thompson’s Wild City


by Sarra Scherb

Published in WEAVE Magazine – Volume 2, May 2014.

Siolo Thompson and I are supposed to be talking about her transmedia company, Wolfram Productions. I have a list of questions about past projects, a voice recorder on the table, a blank page for scribbling notes. But, try as we might to stay on topic, we can’t help but veer into other territory: science fiction, video games, comics. We quickly agree on the superiority of Marvel over DC superheroes, assert a mutual love of the novels of weird fantasist China Mieville, and prefer single-player video games like Dark Souls and Elder Scrolls.

“I always play a rogue character in video games—I like being stealthy, and quick, and having a lot of skills, like picking locks,” says Thompson as we sip wine on a long summer night in Pioneer Square. She speaks rapidly, using her hands and eyebrows to punctuate her sentences. “I try to make my characters look and act as close to my real self as possible. I want them to do the things I can do.”

Judging by the dizzying array of abilities and interests this 37-year-old curator, artist, writer, actress, chef, marketer, entrepreneur, model, coder, former Angiography Tech, and full-time mother can boast, a quick and improvisational rogue archetype is just about right. (I’m not sure about her ability to pick a lock, but nothing would surprise me.)

But stealthy?
No one would ever call what Siolo Thompson does ‘stealthy.’

Thompson is Executive Producer for Visual Arts at Wolfram Productions, a two-woman company that prides itself on taking on publishing, curatorial, or marketing projects and pushing them to all corners of media.

Thompson founded the company in 2012 with Charlotte Austin—the head of their literary projects side—when the two began making serious plans to publish a book. Needing a moniker under which to publish, they came up with Wolfram Productions, a gender neutral name that combined the most active and powerful parts of the women’s personalities, as well as nodding to the nerdcore legacy of Wolfram Alpha, a computational knowledge engine.

“Charlotte is a mountain climber, so she’s the “ram” in our equation,” Siolo explains.
“I used to be a professional fighter, so I’m the ‘wolf.’”

Put them together and you’ve got Wolfram.

Wolfram only takes on assignments that speak to them on a personal or artistic level, and their project list clearly reflects their feminist bent. They recently published an illustrated non-fiction novella about Congolese survivors of abuse, titled The Survival Girls, which received praise from U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. Two marketing events/exhibits have also highlighted video game companies with women in high positions: Meteor Entertainment and Bungie. And unafraid to tackle thorny subjects, they curated an art exhibition on guns — 2013’s 2nd Amendment at Bherd Studios Gallery.

The two producers and their cadre of consultants carefully select their clients, and then turn up the volume on their project til the windows rattle.

But before any of the receptions and red carpets could happen, Austin and Thompson first needed to tackle the reason for Wolfram’s founding: their publishing project. Austin and Thompson had long felt frustration with the lack of positive, multidimensional female role models in media, and–along with designer Amanda Paredes–had sat down over drinks to blue sky their vision for a book that would tackle that frustration head-on: The Better Bombshell.

Thompson and Wolfram co-founder Charlotte Austin.

Bombshell paired a wide range of artists and writers into teams to answer the question: who is the better bombshell? Poetry, essays, and short stories from writers of different backgrounds, genders and sexualities played off artwork from visual artists around the globe, as they considered ways of responding to the query.

“We had shared long discussions about the value of collaboration between the artistic and the literary communities,’ wrote Austin in Lost & Found Mega*zine in 2013.

“The act of collaboration provides a unique opportunity for writers and artists to engage in the time-tested tradition of letting words and images work together to push both further into the void than either could reach alone.”

“It spiraled out of control pretty quickly,” says Thompson with a rueful laugh.

“We thought it was going to be the kind of thing we stapled together in the kitchen, but instead…”

Instead, the book took off in a big way, receiving mentions on The Huffington Post, the Stranger, CityArts, and Polish publication Lost & Found.

They brought Bombshell—a glossy, behemoth of a book—on a tour to the AWP conference in Boston, and on the way found ways to engage their audience with thoughtful blog posts, a book-specific website, and small launches across the country. Proceeds from the sales were—and continue to be—donated to the Washington Education Access Fund.

“When we came up with the idea we had no idea how difficult it is to publish. It’s not an easy thing. We’re proud of the work we did with it, and it was our launch-pad.”

Things seem to get launched around Thompson, often at the speed of thought. She warns me early on that it’s not safe to mention any of my ambitions around her.

“If you tell me you’re interested starting some project, I’ll have marketing ideas for you the next day. I’ll build your website, file your business license, and draw up your four point plan within the week.”

She grins.

“I’m such a pusher.”

She’s not entirely sure where her energy comes from to juggle new Wolfram projects, paint contributions for shows around town, curate exhibits, attend art openings, perform culinary experiments, create illustrations for an upcoming graphic novel, pick up her son from wrestling practice, and improve on her distance running.

“I live in a state of pretty high stress,’ she admits.

“You put a seed out into the world, and it grows—it’s a Cthulhu, a dark lord that runs your life for the next 6 months. And then, as soon as it’s done, I start wondering how I can top it.”

Seattle is Thompson’s adopted home, and she considers it a remarkably easy place to get such things done. Something about the city and its arts community enables her to fire all her engines and complete things at whiplash speed. I wonder if it’s because notoriously laid-back Seattleites are floored by her sheer dynamism and energy. She politely disagrees.

“Everything I do is collaborative. I end up sucking people into the vortex, and we all generate momentum together. People want to help, they want to show up and be a part of things. Enthusiasm is infectious.”

I compare Thompson and Austin to spiders in the center of a web: connecting disparate parts of their networks, feeling the pulses from across their web and pinging back, and busily bringing new people into their purview.

She laughs, “I love it—spiders are my spirit animal!”


On a mild evening earlier in the year, Thompson showed just how far—and how high—her web of connections could take her. Wolfram presented “Floating City”, an intimate dinner and art exhibition in the 1900s penthouse apartment at the tippy top of Smith Tower in downtown Seattle.

After watching a flurry of Seattle gallery closures in 2013-14, Thompson wondered: How do we develop a culture of arts patronage? Where and how do people spend money, buy art, and invest objects with meaning?

Floating City was first in a series of events that seek to provide answers. The event brought together a small gathering of unusual suspects—artists, collectors, writers, scientists, designers, musicians, techies, and more—to celebrate the artwork created by visiting Austrian artists Christian Bazant-Hegemark and Simone Fuchs during their Wolfram Artist Residency program.

The Residency invited the two Viennese painters to Seattle for a month to engage with the art scene and produce a body of work. It culminated with the Floating City reception, an event far beyond what an art gallery could produce.

“It wasn’t a staid gallery art experience, or a night out at a restaurant,” explains Thompson.

“Floating City was a dinner party that brought together the worlds of art, food, and conversation in a new paradigm.”

Thompson dreamt up a sophisticated tasting menu with young chef Mike Stamey based on the textures and colors of the artists’ work. Mezzo-soprano Roxanna Walitzki performed an Austrian aria that brought many to tears. And arts patron and penthouse owner Petra Franklin granted guests a new perspective on the city: they shed shoes and jackets, shimmied up a cramped chimney, and beheld the vertiginous view from inside the tiny glass dome atop of Smith Tower.

In the days following the event, the guests took to social media to record their experiences, posting photos of skyscraper fairy lights from the dome, or soft-focus food-porn shots from the tasting menu.

A guest who bought a painting that night wrote: “It is not only a beautiful painting, but a talisman: imbued with the magic and memory of last Thursday evening’s Floating City.”

Another posted: “Loving living in a city where people have a cultural vision. This felt like Paris.”


Photos from Floating City by Braden Duncan.


Thompson sips the dregs of her wine and levels a serious look at me over the rim of her chunky black glasses.

“My best piece of advice to anyone with a goal is this: formalize the process. Put whatever it is you want to do down in formal language; make it a proposal, a contract. It will make you accountable to yourself.”

Wolfram Productions itself is a function of this ethos, created out of thin air to serve as a publishing vehicle for The Better Bombshell. The Wolfram Artist Residency program, too, originated this way: Bazant-Hegemark made an idle comment that he wanted to visit Seattle and paint a bit. He must not have gotten the warning Thompson gave me about sharing ambitions within a mile radius: she gave it a title, and mission statement, and now the Residency is in full swing, with Seattleites Garek Druss and Chris Sheridan leaving for Vienna in coming months.

The sun is setting across the brick square, and our wine glass hold only traces of our lipstick. As we wrap up our conversation, she speaks candidly about the rhythm of her life as a human catalyst.

“I run one project to pay for the next. It’s like you are the trapeze, and the net. The trick is to make it seem seamless.”

After all our digressions to sci-fi and fantasy realms, I can’t help but reflect that although Thompson is very like the jack-of-all-trades rogue characters she prefers to play in video games, she might also have analogues in the world of comics. Maybe she’s Spider-Woman, spinning her webs all over town. But I’d like to think that she could just as easily be the next iteration of Daredevil.

Just call her Siolo: The Woman Without Fear.


Editor’s Note: While the partners at Wolfram Productions have gone their separate ways since this issue was published, you can find more artwork and new projects by Siolo Thompson at her website.

Artwork courtesy and copyright of by Siolo Thompson.


Art For Your Ass: Bombsheller Isn’t Wearing Any Pants

Written Exclusively For and Published By WEAVE Magazine – Volume 2, May 2014.

by Sarra Scherb


A dramatic metal staircase sweeps down through the center of the Bombshelter, mirrored in the high gloss of the dark concrete floors. A parade of ankle-breaking high heels and spiked wedges marches down the steps, glittering wickedly in the overhead lights. Down one side of the ground floor space are spartan standing desks studded with shiny swivel monitors, all powered down for the moment, but brimming with potential energy. Sharp corners, hard surfaces, high shine, and that waterfall of killer neon shoes: it looks like the lair of a chic and deadly supervillainess.

I’m met by Pablos Holman, CEO of Bombsheller, who—despite his glasses that look cobbled together from chrome robot bones—is no villain. But he’s certainly as diabolically clever and ambitious as one. His plan? To get you, and everyone you know, in a pair of custom-fit, artist-designed, one-of-a-kind, sustainably and locally produced leggings. All while changing the way that clothing is conceived, ordered and produced.

“Bombsheller is renegade fashion. We’re going to get in, throw our bombs into the industry, and it won’t be long before everyone gets to wear whatever they really, truly want.” -Holman

The fashion industry won’t know what hit it.


This pop-punk edgy fashion company is headed up by co-founders Holman, Marissa Monteiro and Nick Vu. It moved into its lair in January of 2014, and turns a year old this summer. Bombsheller’s ethic revolves around collaboration and customization. Artists from around the world are encouraged to virtually submit designs to be made into leggings, and they set their own royalties to receive for each online sale. Customers order their favorite shells (the preferred term for leggings), and their choice is printed, cut, sewn, and shipped from the Seattle headquarters within 24 hours. The print-on-demand model saves the company the cost and waste of making five hundred pairs of S, M and L of each design, keeping them in inventory, and then dumping them in a landfill when they don’t sell. This streamlined approach means Bombsheller can accept hundreds—even thousands—of designs to add to their catalogue, which grows every day.

Bombsheller_2014_Solstice_00587Bombsheller prides itself on being a fully Seattle-based company. That means that its marketing, production, printing, and shipping all happen under the same roof, with employees paid in USD. The only part of creating their shells that’s outsourced is the design itself: the patterns are submitted by artists using Bombsheller’s tech specs on their website. Traditional media artists, graphic designers, or photographers can save their images in Illustrator, upload their designs to a template, and Bombsheller staff either approve the design or work with them to improve it.
As Bombsheller began to prototype their shells, they reached out to Boom aka taskboom, an arts director with ties to the local artistic community. She contacted Seattle artist John Osgood, muralist Jonathan Wakuda Fischer, and the female graffiti collective Few&Far to be early contributors.

Would it have been quicker and easier to hire an in-house team to design the shells? Sure. But Bombsheller isn’t interested in easy; they’re committed to involving people who wouldn’t normally be able to bring their work to the fashion world. They’re also artist advocates: along with being able to set their own royalties for shells sold, the artists retain all rights to their images.

“As an artist, being able to say that your art was used for fashion is huge. normally, they’d need to devote themselves 1000% to make a line happen.” – Holman

“We intentionally engaged with a variety of artists with varying skill sets,’ says Boom. “Some had fashion experience, and they were familiar with designing for the body and vector design. Others were stepping into the fashion industry for the first time. We want artists from all levels to feel empowered to invent their own fashion.”

Though the learning curve was steep for some, the outcome was knock-out: the scanning and printing are of such high quality that every crackle of paint and whisper of charcoal comes through. Even the texture of the canvas or panel can be seen.

Boom also spearheaded inaugural public art events geared to showcase Bombsheller to the wider community, including curating the Bombsheller Art Labs, a temporary maker gallery that hosts performances, exhibits and installations right in the Bombshelter itself.

“Pablos is a hacker-inventor-futurist, always asking the question, what can I make this do?’ says Boom. “I stem from the arts and non-profit sector, so the question on my mind when Bombsheller moved into the headquarters on Queen Anne was, what can we make this space do?”

The hacks come in the form of community-focused projects, roping in local talent and sponsors. Eleven local businesses sponsored graffiti artists Osgood, Wakuda Fischer and Few&Far members to paint the mural Piece of the Sky (below) during the Uptown ArtWalk, while non-profit The Vera Project presented art activities, and Skate Like A Girl! did a skate demo-clinic.

An exhibit of Few&Far’s work also debuted at the UptownArtwalk, with an art review party featuring hip-hop vocalist MADLines. The next hack is a glam “rockway” with School of Rock’s “Best of Bowie” tribute concert at Hale’s Palladium (September 27th), and an intergalactic exhibit Alliance = Rebellion takes off October 15th.


Few&Far members and friend at Bombsheller Art Labs for the reception of Hi-Technique : beyond the glass wall art show. Dime, Marry, 179, Claire (a friend), and Deity.
Few&Far members at Bombsheller Art Labs for the reception of Hi-Technique: beyond the glass wall. (L to r: Dime, Marry, 179, Claire (a friend), and Deity.)


Holman is a veteran of 2000s era Silicon Valley and the modern tech sector, where flexibility, feedback and DIY is the order of the day. Inventor, hacker, TED Talker, and omni-curious problem-solver, he’s used to looking at clunky systems and making them beautiful. The fashion industry should quake: it’s square in his sights.

“We’re not going to be welcome in the fashion world. The industry as it is now is not for common people, it’s for designers to push their own agendas and visions on you. We’re flipping that. You’re making the decisions.”

He sees the current mode as wasteful, inaccessible and rigid.

“I’m used to dreaming up an app, writing the code over breakfast, launching version 1.0 by lunch, receiving bug reports before dinner, and releasing 2.0 at midnight.”

By that standard, every industry is rigid. But modern computing and networking have begun to level the playing field, allowing newcomers and the rise of rapid iteration, customization and personal choice. Holman sees other industries where it’s already under way.

“Want to be a musician? Get a Mac with GarageBand—you’re a musician. You don’t have to have six years of training, or a recording contract. This kind of revolution has yet to happen in the realm of physical objects, but it’s going to. We’re going to be there first.”

Holman’s original idea for the shells was that each pattern would be completely unique, and only printed once. One concept was to have customers send in their Pinterest boards, which would be fed into an algorithm that would produce a one-of-a-kind design based on its shapes and colors. A crowd-source of one.

We’re standing by a rack of shells in bewildering patterns and colors: there are mermaid-tail fish scales, harlequin primary colors, unicorn princess pastels, old maps of Brooklyn and Chicago, spinning fractals, and photographs of crystalline structures. I leaf through them, the sleek—yet thick—material sliding through my fingers. Each is printed on Fabric Fatale, a close-woven stretch polyester/spandex blend. On the waistbands are the titles of the artwork, the artist’s name, and the name of the designer. I ask Holman who their fashion expert on staff is. How do they know what colors are in this year? Which designs make the cut, and which ones are just too weird or ugly?


“We try to get out of the way and let the artists decide what they think is cool. We’re not fashion designers: I wouldn’t hire anyone from the fashion world. They’d have a list of a million things we’re not supposed to do, or shouldn’t be able to do.”

“Doesn’t that lack quality control?” I wonder. Holman seems unconcerned; unless it’s blatantly offensive, or a copyright infringement, someone will like it and decide to print themselves a pair. And if it doesn’t look quite right, a staff-member can point out ways to better flatter the body and make seams match up.

Donna-Prima-Imam-Mosque-Isfahan-Prayer-Room-v2mosque-back-662x1024That part is harder than you might think. Holman shows me a few images and asks how I think they’ll look wrapped around butt, thighs and hips—then he displays the results. It’s
not easy: a texture of rough wooden slats looks elegant when printed horizontally, but flip it vertically and it’s nearly pornographic. A photo of the interior of a tiled mosque (left) looks gorgeous when rendered up the side of the legs, but somehow connives to create a granny-panty white void right across the butt.

And then there are the crotch explosions. (Don’t ask.)

I select a shell that looks like an ice cream cone exploded across it, and check the waistband for the artist name. Artwork by NASA, #OrionGalaxy. I shimmy into them. They fit so tightly and constrictively to my skin that I immediately want to peel them off — but, I take them for a spin out in the offices.

“Awesome, I’ve never seen those before,’ says Holman. “There are so many designs coming in that I can’t even keep track.”
“NASA?” I ask.
“Public domain. We can use anything on their website.”

Friends in very high places.


If you visit Bombsheller’s website you’ll be confronted by a veritable wall of butts. Their primary models (one of whom is company co-founder Marissa Monteiro) assume yoga poses, Rockette high-kicks, fighting stances, and come-hither looks to demonstrate the variety and adaptability of the shells. But though the models on the site don’t conform to the outlandish standards of the fashion industry, they are nonetheless homogeneously slender and toned as they preen on sky-high wedges. Are their shells only for certain bodies?

“It’s Bombsheller’s intention to represent a diversity of body types,’ says Boom, “so everyone knows they can design and wear shells.” She stresses that they want to show a range of body types in addition to the ones in their online catalog, and that other venues–such as a spread in ShockValue magazine and their Facebook albums–feature the shells on men, transgender models, and larger bodies.

Holman replies that because the company has only been up and running formally since January 2014 they are focusing on perfecting their mid-range sizing before expanding to larger sizes. But they’ve recently held their first round of fitting parties for people in the XXL range, so it’s on the radar.

Holman wraps up the tour of the Bombshelter, and I begin to gather my things. I’m heading for the door when I realize: I’m still wearing the Orion shell from the dressing room. That sensation of the material being too tight and too close to my body has transformed into some serious comfort, a feeling of having a durable second skin. Unlike the other leggings in my closet, the waistband hasn’t moved a millimeter in all the walking around, and the ankles haven’t ridden up. I want to wear them to the rock climbing gym, a cocktail party, and to bed, simultaneously. I give my galactic gams a last longing look in the mirror, which Holman catches.
He laughs.

“They’re yours.”

Now, twenty four hours later, I’m wearing them in a cafe as I write this article. A man at the next table has just leaned over:

“My daughters would love your tights. Where did you get them?”

Local. Sustainable. Unique. Artist-supportive. Ground-breaking. Bombsheller.

I give him the scoop, and another shell has just been fired at the fashion industry.


All photography courtesy and copyright of Bombsheller. 

Electric Coffin: It’s Not Going to Make Itself

by Sarra Scherb

Published By WEAVE Magazine – Volume 2, May 2014.

On the back wall of the Westward bar is a very unusual ship.

It’s not a seaworthy vessel by anyone’s standards; the planks are distressed and seem a hundred years old, and the metal weeps rust from every bolt. No one’s sailing this thing anywhere, since half the hull is peeled away to reveal tiny dioramas set into dollhouse-like rooms, like hidden cells in a hive. In one compartment, a miniature Abominable Snowman stalks through an icy cave; in another is a cozy gamehunters’ trophy room; in the next, an oceanographer gets menaced by tentacles bursting through a vent in a deep sea lab. Bottles of gin, vodka and whiskey set into the hull make it the opposite of watertight.

But while it might not be the best vessel for sailing out onto Lake Union, the execution and impeccable workmanship in the Westward’s iconic back bar is so outstanding that it helped garner the restaurant a James Beard nomination in 2014 for excellence. The hands on deck behind this ambitious design? Seattle-based trio Electric Coffin.

Westward_20140329_004 copy
Westward’s bar, designed by Electric Coffin.

Otherwise known as Patrick “Duffy” de Armas, Justin Kane Elder, and Stefan Hofmann, Electric Coffin specializes in fabricating wild installations, creating antique-looking signage, and installing dioramas, murals, and hand-pulled screenprinted wallpaper. Each of the three contributes something different to the mix, making the partnership able to realize projects far beyond the scope of what one alone could do. Their unwritten motto could be: well, it’s not going to make itself.

Duffy—the youngest in the group in his late 20s—hails from the land of custom cars and hot rods, and carries a degree in sculpture under his belt from the UW. Elder, in his 30s, brings carpentry expertise and creates kaleidoscopic paintings of animals and celebrities on the side. Hoffman, the senior member, spent a decade as a high-end graphic designer. Together, they’re the hands and minds behind the patchwork mural at the Hollywood Tavern, the aerosol panels at the Via 6 building, the faux-distressed neon chandelier at Joule Restaurant, and the ice cream truck embedded into Trove on Capitol Hill.

“We do a lot of things just to prove that we can. We have no fear. we feel like we can fabricate anything.”


The interior of Joule restaurant.


The trio began as just Duffy on his own, as he created artwork and worked in a metal shop under the moniker of Electric Coffin. “The name was supposed to sound like a custom shop,’ he says, “where old stuff was given new life. That’s where a lot of my personal artwork comes from: collaging found material, making furniture and sculpture from scrap.” In 2011 Duffy received a project that was beyond his scope to fabricate solo, and he pulled in Elder—with whom he’d exhibited in the past—for assistance. After a number of successful projects, Hofmann was brought on board as well, rounding out their skill-set with a designer’s critical eye.
Duffy is quick to stress what makes Electric Coffin unique: they aren’t an artist collective, and they’re not a design firm. “Because we’re artists first and designers second, we’re conceptual, but we work to find the best way to get the narrative across. Every project has an interesting story, a core concept, and we’re always trying to bring that to light.”

With each member of Electric Coffin an artist in their own right, ideas come big and bold. Sometimes it leads to stronger narratives; other times the brainstorm only gets everything soggy and tangled. Duffy admits with a smile that some days the trio have to toss a coin and abide by the outcome to move forward. He says that he’s occasionally tempted to give up on the collaboration, that it would be easier to go solo.

“I could live in my studio, make art, and be perfectly happy. But is that healthy? Not really. Being an artist is egotistical. you’re always saying, “look what I made! I’m so great!” But it’s good to get out of your own head, even if your ego is bruised. In the end you’re growing, you’re pushing yourself.”

Works in an exhibit at Bherd Gallery, 2013.

If embedding ships and vans into restaurants wasn’t enough to keep him busy, Duffy also runs the Piranha Shop in SoDo, with co-conspirator Matthew Vanatta. An exhibition space, rental venue and warren of artist studios, the two originally envisioned the Shop as a DIY punk rock space where anything went. They built a grindable skate-ramp inside, hosted punk shows and parties, and generally encouraged friends and collaborators to run wild for two years.

Duffy shrugs eloquently:

“But, we can’t always be crazy. Being as punk rock as possible just isn’t sustainable.”

Mixed-media work by Duffy.

Today, the Shop is a lot quieter, but it still hums with the energy of the seven artists and designers who rent out studio and office space there. We’re sitting on the floor in the Shop, which is stained and pitted, but clean and definitely ramp-less. Buttery late-day light streams in, washing it in a summer Seattle glow.

Bringing a little order to their courting of chaos, Vanatta and Duffy plan to fire up the Shop’s in-house kitchen with Anton Churaman– the son of Pam Jacob, owner of U-District Caribbean staple Pam’s Kitchen. He’s also planning to bring in more independently curated exhibits.

Duffy is too humble to describe these myriad projects and plans as a stealthy takeover of Seattle’s arts and design scene on all fronts. (But it is, and we should be glad of our talented new overlords.) “I just see what people are doing, and I get inspired—I think, ‘That’s amazing, I’ve got to do more!’” He points to his collaborators as the reason all these visions get realized.

“If I did everything myself, i’d never sleep. So, I suck other people in to help me. I want to make as many things as many ways as I can. Making things is just so much fun.”

Through the evening, people come and go through the Piranha Shop door, and each shouts a welcome to Duffy, or runs over for a quick guy-hug. His phone is constantly lighting up as texts and missed calls pile up, and he checks them with a smile.

“I just need people—and that’s fun, too. Oh, and money,’ he laughs. “Give us money!”

Seriously, give them money. They’ll build you a booze boat with an Abominable Snowman in it.

All installations and artwork courtesy of and by Electric Coffin.