Exclusive Q&A with “And Then the Flash” Artists Hunter Sunrise and Marico Fayre

By Jennifer Cloer

The book’s foreword reads, in part: “Two artists meet. One at the complex end of a long-term relationship. The other about to set forward on an international adventure. The simple phrase “take me with you” changed both their lives more than they could have imagined, and catalyzed an enduring friendship…The advent of this friendship - a 6,000-mile adventure at the beginning of 2012 - built the foundation for what this book would become.” 

Q: What has the book become? What does it mean to you today and what do you hope readers take away from it?

Marico: The book has gone through many iterations over the years and now that we are able to share it and to connect with readers, the experience continues to grow and evolve. I hope that it has become a tangible work of art that sparks readers to imagine (and create) another adventure, whatever that looks like for them. And that it invites those who sit with it to connect to something inside themselves, to reflect on memories of people and places that have changed them, to explore a new idea or way of seeing. For me, the most powerful art resonates deeply in my core and changes how I see, gives language to what I feel. I hope it connects people—with themselves and with others.

Hunter: I see this book as a living thing. That with each person who sits with the content, reads and experiences the work, it changes shape some and comes alive inside each imagination and memory. And that it sparks a sense of humanity we all share: birth, love, loss, reinvention, courage, hope. I hope that the words carve out a glimmer of light inside a reader’s heart and that the reader, in turn, remembers the things they, too, have loved and lost and dreamed of and ventured toward in their lives—past and yet to come.

Hunter Sunrise and Marico Fayre

Q: What inspired you to create the book? Was it intentional before you set out on your journey or is it something that manifested as you were on the adventure? Or perhaps afterward? 

Marico: We started collaborating on a blog of writing and photographs on the first road trip and had shared our work and connected through art before that. Very early on, Hunter said, “You photograph the world I write.” The first time I read some of his work, it grabbed my heart and woke me up and helped me feel less alone (that is still true). Synchronicity has been present throughout our lives so collaborating felt like a natural extension of our friendship. 

We didn’t set out to create a book, more to document an important moment in both of our lives—though for different reasons. As we’ve grown and changed as people, individually and sometimes together, our artistic expressions have evolved and this work has been a living document of our individual and shared journeys.

Hunter: Indeed, so much of life is created by happenstance. This collection of work was an embodiment of a decade of individual experiences by two friends, whose lives just so happen to fold over and under each other in a way that created layers of complimentary art that nested together into story. It’s also the closure of a long chapter, at least for me, and a letting go of unfulfilled dreams, lost loves and a marker of growth as I look to the next phase of life I’m welcoming in partnership, parenthood, groundedness. It’s a container to hold the wildness of early adulthood, to look at it with reverence, and to move forward from it, from a place of self-love. 

We took so much away from the collection of art and prose. But mostly, we took away themes of adventure, friendship, love, and loss. The writing seemed to transport us to some of our own moments of adventure and reflection out on the road, in our own travels. Travel gives us both a sense of a connection to others and a deep connection to ourselves. When traveling, we can feel very much a part of something bigger than ourselves while also feeling very alone. What are the core themes, for you, in the book?

“I see this book as a living thing. That with each person who sits with the content, reads and experiences the work, it changes shape some and comes alive inside each imagination and memory.”

Q: How can these themes inspire, disrupt or transform us as we look ahead to a new year?

Marico: Travel is such a wonderful muse. Being in a new place invites me to see differently, to pay attention to details while also seeing the many universal experiences, hopes and desire for belonging that run deeply across human experiences. 

“...inspire, disrupt or transform” I love this. And I think the answer is different for each person, depending on where they are in their journey and what they’re seeking in 2023. For me, this work is about fully becoming ourselves. I hope it can spread roots that connect readers to something deeper, within themselves or the world. Perhaps this can be an experience that encourages people to slow down and look inward in order to better know how they want to show up for themselves in this coming year. 

Hunter: For me, there are two sets of themes, macro and micro. A reminder that inside every detail is a universe of story. And inside every expanse another vast world awaits. I’ve done my best to try and balance the fullness of the world (human condition) in which we live, with reminders that the smallest details (a banana missing) can shed light on all the words unsaid. I hope the book inspires people to look up and out to the horizon and to revel in the fine details of the present moment, as they shape the stories of their own lives.

Q: Marico, what’s one of your favorite pieces from the book?

Marico: This is a difficult question to answer! If I have to pick one, it is “And Then the Flash,” the namesake of the book. It’s always been a powerful piece, and then when I heard the audio recording that we included in the gallery exhibition, I started sobbing (I highly recommend reading the prose aloud with one or many other people). 

“And Then the Flash'' captures the deep human desire for freedom from oppression, the power of coming together as communities and of hope and imagination. It also invites me to ask what is truly important and whether I’m living with integrity and intention (does my bucket list need revisiting?). Creating systemic change requires coming together, embracing our similarities and actively working to understand our differences. Sharing art that shows a story that breaks from the status quo—and the love and beauty that comes from embracing our own truths—is activism. For me, this piece is a rallying cry for human connection. 

And then the ending reminds me that nothing, even centuries-old systems that feel immovable, can extinguish beauty and hope. Remembering to look at the sky and listen to the wind takes practice. Seeking out moments that fill us with joy, when we can see the light alongside the dark, unlocks boundless possibilities. 

Q: Hunter, what’s one of your favorite images from the collection?

Hunter: Oh, this changes on the daily. They’re all so good. But the one I return and return and return to is the full spread of the ocean: the blues and grays and whites in layers. So rich, and so expansive. And then that little red kite just peeking in from the far right. That tiny representation of the humanness we bring to the planet so huge with nature. And a bit of intrigue, like one of my favorite childhood films The Red Balloon. I can stare into that image and lose myself again and again and again.

“Sharing art that shows a story that breaks from the status quo—and the love and beauty that comes from embracing our own truths—is activism.”

Q: Tell us about your creative collaboration. What do you think is required for a fulfilling and productive collaborative partnership?

Marico: Twyla Tharp described artistic collaboration as, “Honesty and bluntness, but not to the point of pain. Mutual respect, but not to the point of formality and stiffness. Shared values, so the group’s mission can carry it over the inevitable bumps. And, of course, actual achievement, so the group is supported by an appreciative community.”

Through the years we have had the incredible good fortune to get to know one another as artists and humans, to celebrate one another’s achievements, to share grief and growth, to be seen and accepted. Since we are both creative people, we often made and shared artistic work as well. Through the years we traveled to many of the same places, sometimes together, sometimes separately. Until recently we never lived in the same city at the same time, but we were always connected through art and inspiration. We became one another’s chosen family.

The book we published in 2022 is very different from the first draft from many years ago. We’ve navigated many questions of narrative, intention, focus. Many people ask whether the images or words came first and the answer is neither (or both). We kept creating our work every year—and like most artists, sometimes we were individually prolific and sometimes one or both of us would go months without sharing anything new.

Hunter’s words are so visually evocative that it would have been easy to photograph a response to his writing, but that’s not how we’ve ever worked. Nor has he written something in response to a particular photograph. Maybe it would have been easier to work that way…but we are not people who tend to choose the easy path. There’s something special about the strong individuality that we both bring to this collaboration (and our lives), the balance achieved when autonomy and connection coexist—each medium elevating the other, creating something that is stronger together than alone.

In mid-2022 we committed to finishing the book and showing the work in a gallery before the end of the year. We needed a deadline and we needed to close this particular chapter in order to make space to focus on other creative projects.

We decided to look at the work with fresh eyes and pull in new or previously excluded written pieces and images. We sat down with printed versions, first of the writing then the images, so we could sequence and experience them physically and find the threads of connection. We met at a wine bar, in the late afternoon sun, and advocated for various pieces, talked about themes and unexpected connections, and by the end of the evening Hunter read the book aloud to me (for the first time) and it was incredible. There are so many threads weaving the story together—words and themes that repeat in different pieces, many written years apart. Grief, travel, memory, family, place, and love most of all. And that was the final sequence—I don’t think it’s changed since that night.

The images and words resonate together, but the sequence isn’t linear. Many of the pairings changed in the first gallery show of the work as did the order of the writing. The experience we craft in a book versus a gallery/physical space is very different. Part of the beauty of this work, at least for me, is that it isn’t fixed in a particular chronological or narrative order. In order to stay true to the feeling of the work, it needs to shift in response to different types of settings, and when there are fewer images and written pieces. It’s intimate, ethereal, dark, vibrant, hopeful, and always evolving.

Hunter: Well, Marico mostly covered it, above. I’ll simply add that the content of each of our individual works—while not created in a shared or cohesive capacity—has had resonant threads as our friendship has deepened and we’ve become more connected as humans. As conversations evolved around certain topics (spirituality, habitual patterns, grief, aspirations, love, and partnership) and the places we were each drawn to experience and seek inspiration or healing (Mexico, Spain, New York City, the mountains, rivers/water, etc.), evolved, each of the bodies of work we were creating began to circle around the other until this non-linear, serpentine pattern emerged and the works nested so beautifully together. It’s all about trusting the process, I think.

Q: What did you learn about yourself and your own creative process as part of putting together this book?

Marico: Hunter pretty much said it all, more concisely than I ever could. This process has shown me the power of collaboration and connection, and taught me that I can make work from a place of curiosity and wonder, not just as a response to pain or loss. Being able to work closely with someone I respect and trust, who is honest and kind and pushes me to keep questioning and changing, has made me stronger and simultaneously willing to be more vulnerable—both as an artist and as a woman.

Hunter: Oh, the learning! This project has been such a tremendous teacher for me. How to collaborate: to share and exist fully as an individual inside a shared dream, and respecting and supporting someone else's individuality simultaneously. Neither me, nor Marico, had to shrink, or get bigger, to fit the other person’s work in. Such an essential lesson. The others are around self-love and self-acceptance: being reminded of the similarity of human journeys and experiences. I’ve heard from so many people that these words and images resonate deeply with their own experiences—and while the stories are uniquely mine—the themes are so true and honest for others on this wild and incredible human experience we’re all living.

“There’s something special about the strong individuality that we both bring to this collaboration (and our lives), the balance achieved when autonomy and connection coexist—each medium elevating the other, creating something that is stronger together than alone. ”

Q: It’s hard to choose a favorite piece but Sunday Kind of Love feels like it’s pretty universal. Can you please tell us more about how you approached this piece and what’s the mango about?

Hunter: Oh, Sunday Kind of Love. It’s a bit stream of consciousness, really, kicked off by someone commenting that they love my work, but it’s pretty sad and could I write something more upbeat. That sparked this exploration of infatuation of the new: new in love, the brightness and forgiveness we have while learning a thing, or in this case, a person. How early in love, we take on the role of adventurers, savoring the details, moving with grace, courage and forgiveness as we learn to open to each other. How aspirational it all is. Until one day, the mundane creeps in, and the things you thought were adorable are somehow obnoxious, and the relationship finds its sunset. But in this piece, rather than reveling in the sadness or the friction of the loss, I wanted to capture that energy of infatuation and to use invention to honor the excitement of it all.

Marico: Cooking is an act of creation, a way of expressing love, and, for me, of being fully present in something tangible. Photographs call our attention to details, and freeze a specific moment that is linked to the memory of the artist, and that often conjures similar memories or experiences for the viewer.

The words in “Sunday Kind of Love” invite us to pay attention to everyday details that we often let slip away. The mango and hands similarly are mundane, sensual, tangible. And a reason to intentionally leave sticky fingerprints on the page of an “art” book, which we’re taught never to do, unlike the cookbooks on my shelf. It was a fun detail to add.

Interestingly, it’s a photo of Hunter’s cousin’s hands (Marcella Kriebel, also an artist, you can check her work out, here) in my apartment in Brooklyn.