After “Minari” began accumulating awards at film festivals in recent weeks, fans started calling Ms. Youn “the Meryl Streep of Korea.” She has done what no other Korean actor or actress has done: while “Parasite” won best picture and best director, none of its actors were nominated for Oscars.

On Sunday night during the award ceremony, Ms. Youn said her true inspiration was her two children. “I’d like to thank my two boys who made me go out and work,” she said while holding her statuette.

“This is the result because mommy worked so hard.”

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Need New Skills? How About a Hug? The Women’s Shed Welcomes You.

DAVOREN PARK, Australia — No one really knows when backyard sheds became meaningful to men, as a retreat and a place to tinker. But in the late 1990s, Australia made them communal. Hundreds of men’s sheds, as they came to be known, popped up across the country — where retirees or the out of work could stave off loneliness and depression by working on creative projects, gaining new skills and socializing.

All of which got Raelene Wlochowicz thinking: What about the women? It was the end of 2019, and she was about to retire after 28 years of working in Australia’s juvenile justice system. People kept asking her what she was going to do with her time.

“I don’t know,” she’d say. “I’m ready to finish my work life, but I’m not finished with my life.”

Always active, a working-class grandmother with bright red hair and a nose ring, she couldn’t stand the idea of playing cards in a senior center or sitting around gossiping over $4 coffee.

She knew that the first men’s shed had opened not far away, on the fancier side of Adelaide, the most industrial of Australia’s major cities and the capital of South Australia.

building coffins.

Women’s sheds are a newer development, and they often take on a broader mandate, in terms of whom they serve and the skills they aim to develop. Barry Golding, an adult education professor at Federation University Australia in Ballarat who wrote a book about men’s sheds, said women’s sheds were just starting to take off, with around 100 worldwide.

protests against sexual harassment are appearing outside Australia’s Parliament, the women’s shed has become another way to channel outrage and energy.

In Davoren Park, some of the women are survivors of domestic violence; others are widows or out of work. They come for protection, progress and fellowship.

Leanne Jenkins, 46, was one of the first members. A mother of two with a tightly pulled ponytail, she said she had been struggling with severe anxiety and depression when her therapist suggested that the shed might be a good place to make friends and develop new skills. At first, showing up brought panic attacks. Now, she’s at the shed almost every day.

“They treat me like family, and if I’m not here or not around for a week, they come get me,” she said. “I feel like I’m relied on. If I don’t make it to the shed, I actually feel guilty.”

Their first project was just getting the shed up to code. The water didn’t work, glass covered the floors, the bathrooms were foul.

They pulled in a small local grant, and the rest came from donations of time or goods. One day, Ms. Wlochowicz received a call from a woman whose sister had died, leaving a garage of arts and crafts supplies. Others offered more clothing and home supplies than they could ever need.

Some of it can now be found in a “room of love.” To get there requires walking down a long school hallway, past a wall of photos with women of all ages smiling and squeezed together. Inside, Ms. Wlochowicz snapped on the light to reveal a classroom made into an ad hoc store, with beauty supplies, dresses, jeans, towels and linens — all of it free for women fleeing domestic violence.

“When they run, they run with nothing,” she said.

It was one of many signs that this particular shed, in a forgotten corner of a wealthy and often sexist country, has never been just about socializing.

On a recent Tuesday, a dozen of the shed’s members, along with a few daughters and granddaughters, sat together in the arts and crafts room to practice for choir with a song they wrote about the shed that plays to the tune of “The House of the Rising Sun.”

Ms. Wlochowicz watched as their teacher, Katie Pomery, 23, a local singer-songwriter, conducted with her hands and smiled more with every verse.

“It is a place where friendship grows, and you can get free bread,” they sang. “The garden’s full of possums and beasts, the kitchen’s full of food. If you come here with a heavy heart, we’ll lighten up your mood.”

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An artist honors icons by creating Black History Month-themed playing cards

Michelle Obama, Thurgood Marshall and Oprah Winfrey are just a few of the figures who appear in a set of cards.
“It’s dedicated to the dreamers — to all of the African American individuals before us who paved the way,” Johnson told CNN.
Despite praise from her peers, the Kansas City, Missouri-based graphic designer and founder of Studio Lo recalled being hesitant to take what was originally a class project and turn it into a physical product.
“I just hadn’t seen it done before,” Johnson said. “But I looked at an example from the class and I was like, ‘How would that look with a Black figure on it?'”
The 22-year-old illustrator recalled how she didn’t intend to take her design idea beyond the classroom. “That, literally, was where it was going to stay and I wasn’t going to push the product any more,” Johnson continued. That all changed when she got her first order request.
Last October, a professor at the University of Missouri came across the design on Johnson’s portfolio website. She was eager to buy a few decks as gifts for her graduate students; however, the cards didn’t actually exist.
Kearra Johnson, owner of Studio Lo, working at her desk.
“I didn’t want to tell her no,” Johnson recalled. “So I took that as an opportunity just to motivate me to go ahead and get them done.”
After fulfilling the professor’s five-deck order, Johnson pivoted her focus to the cards and began pushing the design.
“I’ve just been showing them to people who I think would be interested and just seeing how many eyes I can get on them,” Johnson explained. “And literally every person that I’ve shown has been excited about it — more excited than me sometimes.”
Johnson initially only printed 100 decks that she planned to sell on her own. However, curators at Made In KC, a company in Kansas City that sells locally designed products, suggested that she print more. “So then I went and got 500 more printed,” Johnson continued. The cards are now being sold in-store at all three Made in KC locations.
Kearra Johnson delivering the Revolution Card Decks to the Made in KC warehouse.
Starting important conversations about Black history and Black culture is something Johnson hopes can be achieved with the playing cards. She explained how the project is her creative passion mixed with an important topic.
“I think it’s always important to push [Black] culture forward,” Johnson said. “And there’s no better way to do that and than through creativity.”
Johnson currently works as an In House designer at Kanbe’s Markets, an organization that seeks to eliminate food deserts in Kansas City. Her creative skills, coupled with the idea that art can be used as a powerful tool for change, makes her job at the nonprofit even more enjoyable.
“Just being able to contribute my talents, and contribute to the bigger cause is super rewarding,” Johnson continued.
Looking back on her journey so far, Johnson explained how grateful she is to be surrounded by people who support her work and have her best interest in mind.
“I think a lot of times people kind of fear that people won’t respect or understand their idea,” Johnson said. “But, really, you just gotta be confident and people will see what you see.”