Getting Afreaky: An Interview With Nikolai and Simon Haas of the Haas Brothers

November 30, 2015

The Haas brothers seem like mystical ambassadors from the future. However, they are not here to portend of doom and gloom, like the current headlines may lead you to predict. Indeed, the future looks pretty bright according to Nikolai and Simon Haas – fraternal twins who make high-end sculptural objects that only the very lucky can afford, but are almost talismanic in their complexity and humorous in their intentional simplicity. The materials the brothers use mimic natural and rare phenomena in nature. This gives their work a sexual energy that takes phallic and vaginal forms, replete with folds and shafts and rounded curves that could make the prudish contingent quite sensitive. Put the work together and it looks like a combination of Maurice Sendak's menagerie of Wild Things and Dr. Seuss on too many tabs of acid.

If you visit the Ace Hotel in Los Angeles, you can see some of their drawings on the walls of the Chapter Restaurant; next to the lobby. Portraits of Roman Polanski are juxtaposed next to chubby line-drawn creatures holding cocktail glasses – Nikolai’s work is more cartoonish, one dimensional and comical, while Simon’s work is more realistic, detailed and has more perspective. It’s a perfect way to experience their work on an individual scale. But it is when they bring their styles together that the real magic happens. Simon comes from a much more logical perspective, while Niki is much more laid back, creating an incredibly powerful dynamic.

Over the last couple of years, the Haas brothers have been riding high on a wave of popularity – a collaboration with Donatella Versace took their works straight to the gilded living rooms of the fashion and design world. Solo exhibitions in New York have made them darlings in the art world. However, the proverbial wave crashed when they were on a private jet heading back to LA from an exhibition of their work in Miami.

To fill their souls again, they have been working with a group of bead artists located in a township outside of Cape Town, in South Africa, who call themselves the "Haas Sisters." This week at Design Miami, the brothers will be premiering works from this collaboration, entitled Afreaks, which include colorful four legged creatures in varying sizes and large psychedelic mushrooms – more examples of the Haas Brothers, and now Sisters, goal to spread positive vibes. The work will also be on view this February at Cooper Hewitt's Design Triennial.

In the following interview, we talk to the Haas Brothers about their craft, their collaborative relationship, the sexual overtones of their work and how a trip to Africa changed everything.

AUTRE: When did you first start collaborating artistically together? Was there a specific moment when you knew you wanted to make this happen together?

NIKOLAI: My first remembrance of doing stuff together was when we wanted to make these machines. There was a popular artist at the time who made these rolling ball sculptures. We saw that as kids, and we wanted to make this machine in the backyard. We were about 3 or 4.

SIMON: Our very first collaboration started in 2007. He was in a band with Vincent Gallo, and they were touring. I was in school, and they called me and asked me to tour with them. I dropped out and drove to LA to join them.

NIKOLAI: That was our first professional collaboration.

SIMON: Then a friend of ours offered Niki this construction job in 2010, and he asked me to do it with him. We rented a studio downtown. Basically, that’s when we knew that we were going to be working together always. We actually had a conversation about it. We rented that shop, and we didn’t know what to do.

NICKOLAI: In this conversation, we were asking ourselves, “What are we starting a business for?” We just want to work for ourselves and do our own thing. I don’t think we said it explicitly at the time, but we knew we were dedicated just to being happy people. That was the spirit of what was going on. I remember when we sat down and talked about what we were going to achieve, that was the number one thing—being happy, and trying to spread that in our community. Not just the people who we were working with in the studio, but also in the communities outside of the studio, the LA community.

AUTRE: And the rest of the world as well?

NIKI: Yeah, as much as possible. We have a community in Miami now because we go there all the time. We have a community in Europe because we go there all the time. The whole point is to be happy.

AUTRE: When you collaborate on a piece together, where does it start? Is there a brainstorming session?

NIKI: It’s different every time. I think our most explicitly collaborative moments are when we have to sit down and conceive new shows together. On single pieces, we’re collaborating all the time—asking each other questions as we go. Simon’s always working on the philosophy and the deeper meaning behind the work, and he’s always thinking about how the work can change. I’m kind of doing more brutish work, like sculpting or sketching cartoons.

SIMON: He’s the maker, and I’m just testing stuff all the time. I’m a fanatic; I’m a materials person. The way we collaborate is Niki gives life to these processes, and I give him materials to work with. And we always talk about all of it the entire time. Also, as twins, we’re on the same track.

NIKI: It’s not just the conception of the piece. The collaboration doesn’t stop. The African project is such a good example. The actual objects themselves are just a result of the real important part of the project, which is the philosophy of the book. Hopefully people read it. That’s the kind of project that people will put in history books if they read what Simon has written.

SIMON: It’s basically a feminist, white privilege project that’s wrapped up into something consumable and pretty. That’s the thing—our audience is the 1%. We’re delivering things to them to make them think. It’s not something they would necessarily pick up on the shelf. We get to put this stuff in there to kind of figure out later. We talk about ourselves as entering more into philosophy in that way.

AUTRE: That’s really interesting. My next question was about luxury and the definition of luxury.

NIKI: To be honest, most people who are living luxurious lives have pretty bad situations. There’s something about wealth where it gets to a certain level, and it starts to dehumanize the person. They perceive themselves as an odd commodity, even though they trust themselves more than anyone else. Luxury, honestly, is being as happy as you possibly can be. There’s a sweet spot where you have enough to support what you want to do. At the same time, you are loose enough that you can say, “Fuck this.” If you have to get work, if you have to write contracts—even if you’re making thousands of dollars, it’s not all that luxurious. You’re under your own thumb.

SIMON: Luxury as people understand it is almost like a prison. You go to basically the same hotels and the same restaurants in every country in the world. Someone who is living luxuriously is having the same experience everywhere. You’re getting the Vegas experience all over the world.

NIKI: The Hollywood hotel, the concierge that takes care of everything for you. If we had gone to Cape Town in the luxurious way, we would have been taking crazy advantage of black people. We would have been ignoring the entire context of the point of being there. We would have barred ourselves from doing this project.

AUTRE: Luxury, in a sense, can also mean the freedom to be creative.

NIKI: We have the luxury to do whatever we want. That’s what I’m looking for. The luxury to allow ourselves to be happy. We want to be curious all the time, and we want to explore that curiosity. That’s the luxury we’re after.

AUTRE: You have the capability to work in this small format, and then you can explore all those ideas that were in your head.

NIKI: We talked about supporting our community. We were telling kids that the guy that hired us for this first time said, “Hey, I’m giving you the ability to start expressing yourself.” That’s how we started making our stuff. Later on, our gallery said, “Hey, make whatever you want.” That was a big moment for us. We weren’t making anything cool before that really. Money and space doesn’t make you very happy. I would actually say I was just as happy when I was 18 years old and broke.

AUTRE: I want to talk about sexuality, because that’s a major part of your work, especially in your drawings.

NIKI: The sexuality, to me, is just the reality of being a person. Everybody thinks about sex. Everybody has sexual organs. It does occur a lot in the sketches in particular. In the rest of our work, it appears about as often as it does in everyday life. You see yourself clothed, and then at the end of the day, you’re naked looking at your own dick. The way that I push sexuality in the cartoons and the way I use it in art work (like the sex room we made a couple of Basels ago), the point is to make it seem like less of a shock. It is simply an innocent expression if it’s done well. Obviously, if not, it can be oppressive. It’s all happiness. It’s an extension of being a person. The point of using it in our work is the idea of leveling the playing field.

SIMON: It’s so positive. Tom of Finland was more centered on the erotic. The idea behind this is positivity. There’s a very positive message. Beyond that, we focus a lot on animals too. Animals and sex are really common themes throughout history, design, and art (which were the same things until recently). We feel like it’s a natural interest. It’s what’s around us. To exclude it from the work is almost weirder. I was in drawing classes at RISD, and there would be people doing life drawing classes who would leave out the penis. That creeps me out. Showing it is not creepy. Taking it out, showing me your thought process, is kind of creepy.

AUTRE: There’s so much shame attached to sexuality in our culture.

NIKI: We are vehemently anti-shame. That’s one of the pillars that Simon set up for our ethos very early on. Any time we sit down to do a piece of work or a show, we make sure to follow these guidelines we made for our studio.

SIMON: The first few sexual pieces, people would come up to us and say, “Oh my god, you can’t show that.” That’s shaming. We’re not going to listen to them. It’s because of their own discomfort. We made a piece for Basel about sex and shame. People would enter through this giant vagina. We like to get people to consider their own thought processes as they’re experiencing these things. I think it’s important.

AUTRE: It is important. There is a lot of censorship going on these days, like with Instagram.

SIMON: The fact that you can’t show nipples on Instagram pisses me off. The nipple can’t be free; that’s so stupid.

NIKI: We’re not trying to be shocking when we talk about sexuality. People think we’re sensationalist and shocking, but really we’re just expressing what we think.

AUTRE: Do you ever have creative disagreements? How do you resolve them?

SIMON: We have, though it’s kind of rare. We had a big fight in Cape Town, but that wasn’t creative.

NIKI: Talking to each other creatively, we take each other seriously. If Simon doesn’t like something I’m coming up with, or if I don’t like something he’s coming up with, we just try to explore it with each other. You probably have a point, let’s find what it is. Our creative fluidity is beyond good.

SIMON: In school, I had critiques by some teachers who had chips on their shoulders. It was so obvious. They will give shaming critiques of work. We don’t do that to each other. It stunts your creative growth so much. We understand that if one of us shits on the other one’s piece, he’ll stop exploring it and be afraid to do it. I know that his output is going to be incredible, so I have to trust it, and vice versa. The biggest fight we had was in Cape Town, and it came only because we were both going through so much. We’d been riding this crazy high from getting pretty successful pretty fast, and it kind of hit us. When we were in Cape Town and working with these women who had so little, it was like, “What am I doing?” Both of us were going through internal turmoil, which caused us to have a big fight.

NIKI: There were also a bunch of reasons why we had to flesh things out. After the fight, it ended up so much better. It was so worth it. That was the first time we ever had a fight. It’s crazy. Literally, if you talk about the moment before we went to Africa, we had our first solo show in New York. It was met with tremendous success; we sold everything.

AUTRE: Was that R & Company?

NIKI: Yeah. We were hanging out with collectors and all that bullshit. We were staying at a friend’s penthouse. We were taking ecstasy and listening to soul music, and it was so fun. I don’t feel bad for doing it at all; it was unbelievable. But then we go from this moment of complete pleasure and excess to being dumped in Kairicha. We set that up for ourselves, but it was a good reality check. Fuck. Who gives a shit about what we just did? I was proud that we did that, we worked really fucking hard. But we’re young white men. We grew up knowing A-list celebrities. Half of this, whether we like it or not, was handed to us. Suddenly we're working with black women in Kairicha where black people still don’t have the same rights, they are not being given any chances. When we came into the picture, we did a small fair in South Africa, it was the first time they had ever been to the town’s center. That was the first time they got to go to a fancy event.

SIMON: And the crowd that came in was shocked that they were all in there, and as the artists especially. It was really cool.

NIKI: People say it’s not racist in South Africa, but then you try to take them all out to a sushi restaurant, and you can’t do it.

AUTRE: It seems embedded.

SIMON: They’re like, how about going to KFC and going to the top of the hill instead? We actually wound up doing that, and there were people taking photos of us. It was so bizarre.

NIKI: You have to realize, though, that that’s how these people grew up. That’s what it’s like in South Africa, white or black. The whole black community has its own issues with intolerance too. They’re super intolerant with gay people. It’s all fucked up. What we have to understand is that everyone growing up there has grown up with a certain social structure. The idea of ignorance really comes into play. Culturally, people were brought up in an ignorant way. We want people to understand that you don’t want to isolate people you’re hoping to change. If you do that, nothing’s going to happen. And everybody, as evil as they may seem (and I don’t even believe in the idea of evil), nobody is actually evil. Everyone is a person deep down inside. Whatever it is that they’re reacting to, if they’re acting in a way that’s full of shit, like demeaning a person because of their skin color—I believe that they are fully capable of dropping that. It takes time. I think that the Internet is the biggest purge of that of all time. All of a sudden, nobody on the Internet community seems tolerant of homophobia or racism. As a mirror of society, you see society not willing to tolerate that anymore. The Internet touches about 80% of their lives. That’s great. They all have cell phones and listen to Beyoncé and One Direction. But the thing is, Beyoncé is not homophobic or racist. When you have idols that are being put in front of people like that, it’s only a matter of time before it melts away. In fact, anybody who is younger than us is not an issue. You just have to wait for the old people to die away. Although, I’m sure there are some people carrying the torch who are younger.

AUTRE: A lot of people don’t get that reality check. They go to the developing world, but there’s no reality check.

SIMON: You turn into a monster. I felt myself turning into a sharky monster before we went to Cape Town. I was noticing changes in my behavior. Like, I was totally okay with being an asshole to somebody. That’s not like me, and it started to bother me a lot. Thank god we went to Cape Town; it hit us so hard. I remember, right after Cape Town, we went to Miami. We wound up in a G7 flying back here, and I could not enjoy myself. It felt brutal.

NIKI: These pieces of art are selling for thousands of dollars. At some point, it’s too much money. Nothing is worth that much. I know some of our stuff is stupid expensive. But the point is that it’s feeding something much bigger. We’re trying to bring it back to the community.

AUTRE: With you guys, there’s craftsmanship.

SIMON: There are definitely reasons why our stuff is expensive.

NIKI: If there’s an art piece that has historical value, but all that’s happening with it is the piece being taken and used as a commodity. It’s dehumanizing. It’s been moved around in the market with a shitload of money on it. No one needs something that costs that much.

AUTRE: How did the project in Africa come about?

SIMON: Cape Town was named world design capital, and we went for a fair to show some of our pieces. When we got there, we were being tourists looking for art in South Africa, where everything is totally whitewashed. We went to this craft fair, and there was this booth with really cool beaded animals. The woman in the booth was so fascinating and cool and making these beautiful pieces. We just loved her and her story. The booth is called Monkey Biz. On each piece, they have a tag with the name of the woman who made it. We thought that was amazing, because that doesn’t happen very often. It’s a small thing, but it’s actually a really big thing. That’s what got us to want to start doing it. We had this whole penpal exchange with this woman—Montepelo—and her team for about a year, and she really wanted us to come. We showed up and started working with them. They were all afraid of working with us, actually. They’re used to being treated poorly. As soon as they realized we weren’t on that track, it became this really awesome community building experience.

AUTRE: When will those pieces be shown?

SIMON: In December. December 4th.

AUTRE: So that’s your next major project?

NIKI: Yes. And we have another show in February.

SIMON: The theme is beauty.

NIKI: We’re trying to transgress beauty. We’re trying to get rid of our exclusive authorship.

SIMON: Jeff Koons would never name all the fabricators that worked on his project. That’s what we’re trying to transgress. I think it’s kind of cool.

AUTRE: Design and fine art—where is that line?

SIMON: The line is the people who are going to make money off of it. It’s completely commercial. Also, the word “design” is completely Western and very modern. There was never a distinction between the two until recently in our culture. It’s so location and time based that we find it to be gross. We don’t really make that distinction.

NIKI: At the same time, we’re proud to be a part of what’s considered the design community. The truth is, we’re just doing what we do. No labels, man.

SIMON: We rose up through the design world, but we are contentious there. As our stuff is being thought of more as art, the design fair has tried to push us out. Art Basel and Design Miami are the same thing, but they don’t know what side our work should be on.

NIKI: Design Miami has been trying to push us out because we’re “art.”

SIMON: That actually happened with this Cape Town project. We had to appeal and fight for the right to get into it. They told our gallery that they couldn’t show it unless they had us in that booth.

NIKI: The design line exists only in the eyes of the people of commerce.

AUTRE: What do you think will change things?

NIKI: It’s already happening. The Internet, again, is leveling everything. Hashtags have become more important than library cardstock. The way that people think about design now is like library cardstock. The hashtag is going to take over. People in our generation don’t give a shit. People who are old have dedicated time to a certain way of life, and they’re really resistant to changing that way of life. But the truth is, they’re old, and they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.

SIMON: The reason why it hasn’t already changed is literally money, government, etc. But that will go away, and it will all be much chiller. It’s clear from looking at the Internet what’s going to happen. Growing up gay in Texas, I saw very few people who were out in the public eye. The best I could get was Queer Eye for the Straight Guy on TV. Now, on the Internet, you can see whatever you want. Everything is going to change.

You can see the Haas Brothers' "Afreaks" this week at the R & Company booth at Design Miami opening on December 2nd. You will also be able to see the work at Cooper Hewitt's Design Triennial, which will open on February 12, 2016 and will run until August 21, 2016. Purchase the "Afreaks" book here. text and interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper and Summer Bowie. photographs by Sara Clarken

The Highway Is For Gamblers: An Interview With Artist Jeremy Everett

November 17, 2015

In Jeremy Everett’s latest, most ambitious work of art, entitled FLOY – a magnum opus of grandiosity and scale – the artist crashes a 60-foot truck on a highway in Utah, leaving milk spilled across the asphalt. The wreckage was filmed from a helicopter – the artist had to race from the crash site to the helipad before the milk evaporated. Indeed, evaporation is an important part of Everett’s oeuvre – in his Double Pour series, for which his current exhibition at Wilding Cran is named after, the artist captured water spilled on a generic parking lot in Los Angeles before it dried and disappeared into the ether. While most artists apply material to material, Everett’s practice seems almost like a VHS tape on constant rewind; a fuzzy layering of time, space and ephemerality that makes you realize the illusion of time, the impermanence of life and the absurdity of everything. For instance, there is the time the artist took a vacuum to Death Valley and literally Hoovered the desert landscape – in the following interview, you’ll find out what happened to the vacuum. Also in our conversation, Everett talks about what it's like crashing a truck full of milk, the symbolism of the American highway, and his experience growing up in the American west.

Oliver Kupper: So, I want to talk about FLOY because we’re standing in front of it right now, what was it like making that project?

Jeremy Everett: We had a very small crew, only seven people. No insurance. It was mostly spoiled milk. We also had to use this fire-retardant foam because the milk was evaporating so fast I wouldn't have had time to go get the helicopter and fly back and document the piece from above. But I like it even more, that it was staged in this way. Shooting from the hip.

OK: Yeah, it’s like a set. Was it originally used to transport milk? Real dairy?

JE: Yes its all real. The truck was previously wrecked so I filled it and wrecked it again.

OK: Was it difficult to get permits?

JE: It was tedious, government agencies need facts. Part of the text for this piece will be the proposals for the permits. They ask for exactly what you’re going to do—how, when, who. It’s this absurd idea dissected into factual government vocabulary. I was trying to convince the department of highway on the phone, they said, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but if it all evaporates and there will be no permanent damage then okay.”

OK: Utah seems outside of that creative realm. People might be more open to saying, “Okay, whatever you want to do.”

JE: In the beginning they couldn’t understand how it could be sculpture, but they were still very supportive by agreeing to do it, by the end of the day they loved it so much all of the families of the local crew came out to see it and celebrate the work. Very interesting to see that transition. I am so grateful for their help, I’m sending them a print from this show

OK: The branding on the truck says Real Dairy, that's such an American, generic thing.

JE: Yeah, and the highway is America’s greatest monument

OK: I’ve been reading a lot of interviews about you, and it seems like people have trouble defining your work in a less abstract way. How would you define your practice?

JE: All of the work is directly related to and participates inside of life. The work in this show begins with an action, wrecking the truck, pouring two puddles in a parking lot in LA, painting the visual structure of the surface, the grid, until it breaks. Allowing these disruptions to produce a visual charge.

OK: And earth art. Could that be used to define your work? You grew up in Colorado, right?

JE: I grew up in Colorado very close to where Christo did Rifle Curtain, I enjoy the works of Smithson and Heizer very much but I don’t feel my work has a connection to land art. I closed the the highway so I could wreck the truck, so the sculpture could participate in the system, stop the system, this disruption is a significant part of the work.

OK: So there’s a performance aspect to it?

JE: Yes. All of the photographs of Works in Situ are documentations of temporary works that I stage or perform. I really enjoy how factual a work is when it participates inside of life. Double Pour lasted five minutes, during this time the parking lot became something else long enough so I could photograph it.

OK: And landscape architecture—what were you going to do with that degree?

JE: Nothing. But the school was incredible. We had full freedom in a very conceptual environment.

OK: So, you used that to explore your artistic practice?

JE: Yes. I never really practiced landscape architecture. After school, I went to Toronto to study with the designer Bruce Mau. It was a graduate interdisciplinary studio with only seven people, so we had full freedom. My entire education was full freedom. I never really thought about the need to categorize what I was doing or making.

OK: It seems you have an obsession with materials and decay, the way materials interact with one another.

JE: The way the cream of the milk ran down the chrome of the truck. I enjoy using references of certain materials as a part of the work. Also revealing certain visual qualities like the way the wireframe grid leaves an image on the surface of the painting with photographic accuracy.

"Once during a snowstorm a truck flipped and slid into my lane. I was far enough away that I stopped to watch, but it was unbelievable. That physical power. Beyond the violence of it there was a very interesting sculptural quality to the object. "

OK: Could you talk a bit about where the obsession with material came from?

JE: I approach painting through sculpture and photography. These paintings are the results of trying not to make “paintings.” I am also obsessed with printing and copying, all forms of reproduction

OK: Is there a fatalistic element to your work?

JE: Yes and no.

OK: In terms of environment, is there any kind of message you’re trying to tell?

JE: These are such short term discussions that I don’t find it interesting in the long run. Art is a much bigger picture.

OK: It doesn’t need a message. Do you think too many artists are looking for that message?

JE: I enjoy art when it is dysfunctional. Working with a message seems more connected to advertising.

OK: I want to talk a little about the performance sculpture. Where did that idea initially come from?

JE: I grew up in the West and saw several truck accidents. Once during a snowstorm a truck flipped and slid into my lane. I was far enough away that I stopped to watch, but it was unbelievable. That physical power. Beyond the violence of it there was a very interesting sculptural quality to the object.

OK: We gamble with inertia all the time.

JE: This object is massive. When you flip it on its side, something happens visually and physically. It becomes heavier - I was interested in that sculptural situation.

OK: When people think of trucks, they don’t think about the death and destruction of it. They think about a truck driving down the highway. It took two years to put together?

JE: Yes it took two years to find the pieces. I drove from NYC to LA for a residency, stopped for gas and there was this wrecked truck sitting in a parking lot, it was the last part I needed to realize the work. I found the owner of the truck, convinced him to let me re-wreck the truck and it was on. I shot the piece two weeks later.

OK: With this show, what are you trying to convey as a whole?

JE: All of the work is connected by a monumental or un-monumental temporality. There are three photographs of Works In Situ hanging directly on the wall, constructed from smaller tiled prints. This grid construction is very important, and relates to the paintings which are also grids with a photographic quality, but pushed until the grid of the surface is broken. The paintings lead you to FLOY in the next room which is much larger and more specific work in Situ. Next to FLOY is a photograph revealing the section of the gallery wall exposed on film under specific lighting conditions.

OK: You grew up in Colorado, but you said you spent time in Paris as well?

JE: I’ve been in Paris on and off for the past five years.

OK: What brought you back to LA?

JE: I did a residency here and found it so easy to make work. This city is all about production. Now I have a studio thats large enough to work on multiple ideas at the same time.

OK: It’s easier to get out of LA too. You can get out to open space. There are open highways, which play an important part in your work.

JE: Yes.

OK: What about your vacuum piece – were you going to show an example that at your current show here at Wilding Cran?

JE: I like the repetition of vacuuming so I took a Hoover to Death Valley and vacuumed the desert for nine minutes until the vacuum blew up. We were going to show it here, but it didn't work visually in this space.

OK: So, lets talk about some of the wire mesh pieces – can you talk a little bit about those and what materials did you use?

JE: I was interested in mapping the painting with a perfect grid so I laid out a wireframe and then began to build the surface with paint, casting the painting like a sculpture. By doing this, the grid began to slip, fracture and crumble in ways that were specific to the action.

OK: Fine art is probably more freeing than architecture?

JE: Yeah. I left architecture a long time ago. It was just for school. I entered the art world through the back door.

OK: Anything that you are working on now?

JE: I have a few large scale temporary works like FLOY that I am always working on out of the studio. One of which should be realized in the next three months. In the studio I'm preparing a solo show at Edouard Malingue gallery in Hong Kong and another show at Art Basel Hong Kong opening in February/March.

OK: Can you talk about those?

JE: Yes the paintings that will be shown in Hong Kong are made using smoke pigment. The canvas is almost printed with pigment and air, revealing the structure underneath as the image and composition. I use air current to make a copy in a similar way that a photocopier uses light.

OK: Bigger than this?

JE: Different. Even more reduced.

Jeremy Everett "Double Pour" will be on view until November 14, 2015 at Wilding Cran Gallery, 939 South Santa Fe. Avenue, Los Angeles, CA. text and interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper

A Long Strange Trip: An Intimate Conversation With Actor, Artist and Now Curator Leo Fitzpatrick

November 5, 2015

A little over three years ago, I moved to New York to attend a graduate journalism program at NYU. Though I had wanted to get here forever, the very essence of being here didn’t hit me until I was record shopping at Kim’s Video and Music (RIP) in the East Village when I saw artist, actor, and now, curator Leo Fitzpatrick flipping through the bins. Fitzpatrick, to me, was something of a city landmark for young weirdoes that like fucked up art. As a bored suburban teenager I would look at photographer Patrick O’Dell’s Epicly Later’d blog where photos of Leo with his uber cool friends—from actress Chloe Sevigny to pro skaters like Jason Dill—and I saw a world and a lifestyle that I knew I wanted a part in. Fitzpatrick and his mega-famous artist buddies like the late Dash Snow and Dan Colen were my New York heroes, much like Lydia Lunch and Basquiat were to a previous generation. It wasn’t just about the work; it was the whole wasted freedom of that particular moment in downtown New York's history.

It’s been a long strange trip for Fitzpatrick since he was discovered skateboarding in Washington Square Park at age 14 by Larry Clark to star in the director’s seminal ‘90s troublemaker film Kids. Though he has remained involved in acting on and off ever since (he’s most likely appeared in at least one of your favorite shows: The Wire, Carnivale, Banshee, and a hilarious turn in this past season of Broad City as a misdemeanor prone trust fund man child), art has more or less been his primary passion since he bought his first Chris Johanson piece at age 17. He gained some notoriety for his austere and slightly brutal painting style as well as for his documented friendships with some of the early ‘00s’ most famous wild child artists like the aforementioned Snow and Colen, Nate Lowman, and Ryan McGinley.

But Fitzpatrick may have found his true calling as a curator. What sets him apart is his unbridled passion for the art that he likes. What he doesn’t like is the financial motivations that sometimes overshadow what art is supposed to be. This notion allowed Fitzpatrick to conceptualize the Home Alone and Home Alone 2 galleries with Lowman. The driving force behind the Home Alone concept was that none of the art that Fitzpatrick and Lowman showed was actually for sale. This freedom allowed them to re-imagine the gallery as a hangout. A place where ideas could flow freely and art could be displayed in interesting and surprising ways. Home Alone housed shows by artists like Adam McEwen, Larry Clark, Klara Liden, and others. The problem, of course, became money. With nothing to sell, Fitzpatrick and Lowman were losing money every month Home Alone was alive. And with Lowman’s busy schedule, Fitzpatrick shouldered much of the logistical burden behind the concept. “It’s tricky to hold up a gallery when you’re working with a friend,” says Fitzpatrick. “When we broke up Home Alone, it was mutual, but you can start to resent your partner at some point.”

But thanks to Marlborough Chelsea director Pascal Spengemann and owner Max Levai, the spirit of Home Alone lives on in the Viewing Room, a space set up in the Marlborough Chelsea location where Fitzpatrick has complete creative control and is again not worried about the constraints of selling. “Financially, [Home Alone] kicked our asses,” he says, “With Marlborough, I have support. It’s all the best parts of Home Alone, but with more stability.” In just a few months, the Viewing Room has hosted a show by 80-year old Los Angeles-based artist George Herms, and is currently holding an exhibition by iconic New York photographer Richard Kerns. “It’s his photos from the ‘80s” says Fitzpatrick. “I don’t know what he would call them, but I call them “streetscapes.” They’re all never-before-seen photos.”

After I profiled Fitzpatrick for my Forbes column last winter, he and I became friendly. I’m not going to lie: I look up to the guy. He is a singular example of someone who was able to carve out a place for himself in the art world without any formal training but a whole lot of sheer passion, hard work, and interesting ideas about the industry. We chatted in the Viewing Room about transitioning the Home Alone concept to a commercial gallery.

Adam Lehrer: How did this collaboration with Marlborough Gallery come about?

Leo Fitzpatrick: I wanted to have a body of work that was different. I enjoy discovering. I’m excited to try new things [with art] in an unconventional setting. In this space, I don’t have to worry about selling art. When you free it up like that, it’s exciting for everybody.

AL: Does making art for a gallery space feel as interesting as working in a more guerilla-type setting?

LF: There are benefits to both. I just needed the help. A lot of people remember Home Alone as something bigger than it actually was. But running a gallery is a lot of work. I don’t have the energy to start anything on my own anymore. We closed it at a good time. And I don’t think I could have gotten a job at a gallery before Home Alone.

AL: Do you see more artists trying to move outside of the conventional frame of showing art?

LF: I think people are moving towards finding ways to show art outside of the conventional gallery. Maybe your friend owns a pizzeria—put your art on the walls, and call that a gallery. I don’t see anything wrong with that.

AL: Getting work out there is more detrimental than ever, with the living costs associated with this city.

LF: The problem is finding space. Artists are living in the same spaces that they work in. It limits the kind of work they can produce. Like, a painting is much easier to make than a sculpture because it takes up less space. But I also like the challenge.

AL: Because with challenge, one is automatically forced to think differently in his/her execution?

LF: A lot of my outlook comes from skateboarding. One person might just see some stairs, but a skater sees a lot of options. How do I manipulate this to work for me? That’s how I view the art world. I can’t compete with somebody who has a lot of money or more education than me, so I have to invent a new way to do what I want to do. I’ve probably made some naïve mistakes, but that’s what you have to do.

AL: Chelsea shows have been the same forever. This is a new concept in an established space. Do you think, if it’s successful, it could be pioneering?

LF: It’s an unusual concept, so I don’t know if it will catch on. But I think it’s a great idea. I would support other galleries that wanted to try it. I never understood why the art world was so territorial. Aren’t we all trying to do the same thing? When you start talking about money, that’s when the competition comes in.

AL: How do you see yourself fighting that territorial aspect of the art world?

LF: When I came into the art world, I was a young kid. I was really intimidated by the Chelsea galleries. They were cold to me. I want to create a space for the kids who are curious. Why would you turn someone like that away? I tried to make Home Alone more of a hangout than a gallery. If one kid comes for a free beer, but gets really excited about making art or starting his or her own gallery—I think that’s really cool.

AL: Is it keeping the culture alive in some sense?

LF: Oh, yeah. You have to encourage kids to do their own thing. They can’t just sit around making the kinds of things that are going to be shown in Chelsea. Start your own movement. And kids need a place to talk about their ideas. Art is [about] growing up with your peers.

"Kids are unpolished. They’ll stay out until 4 in the morning and talk to each other and try to take over the art world. I love that kind of thing. Kids fucking up the system—to me, that’s great."

AL: What are the challenges you see for young artists?

LF: With the Internet, everything is so transparent. It must be hard for younger kids not to compare themselves to their friends. If they see their friend selling something for $20,000 and they’re only selling theirs for 10, I don’t think that’s healthy. They won’t be able to concentrate on making the work.

AL: What is your relationship to money?

LF: I have a very funny relationship to money now, especially money in the art world. I understand that it needs to exist, but it’s hard for the art world to thrive. I probably can’t afford the art that’s being shown in the gallery, but I get to hang out with it for a month. For me, the exposure is more important than the money. I just want to start a conversation.

AL: Is the role of curator fulfilling creatively in the same way making art is?

LF: Maybe more so. I get more out of supporting other artists than I do supporting myself. I’m not very ambitious. I don’t really consider myself an artist; it’s just something I do. If I get asked to do an art show, that’s cool. But if I confirm that I’ll be showing an artist that I’ve been trying to get for months, that’s like, “fuck yeah!”

AL: What has been your favorite part of curating?

LF: Hanging an art show is more satisfying to me than anything. I always tell the artists to not worry about the art they give me. My job is to make it seamless. They get to make whatever they want to make, and I figure it out. And I’ve loved experimenting with how the show is going to look. You want the art to get exposure, but you don’t want it to be too conventional.

AL: Is showing artists that you feel are under-appreciated important to you at all?

LF: That’s not always the case. I’ve done shows with artists who have had a lot of exposure. But I prefer otherwise. George Herms is an 80–year-old from California. He’s a dying breed. He’s a photographer, a sculptor, and a painter. His whole life embodies art. I want this show to set the tone for the rest of the gallery.

AL: Are there other curators that inspire you?

LF: Not really, no. But I do follow a lot of little galleries. I like to support the underdogs. These little galleries are the underdogs, and they’re doing really cool stuff. If I was to compare myself to contemporaries, I would compare myself to these tiny, scrappy galleries that are just trying to get by. I’m not trying to compete with a big gallery.

AL: But if that did prove to be the evolution of it, would you be opposed to it?

LF: As long as you keep your heart in the right place. But I don’t think about competing with the art world. I have ambition, but that doesn’t mean making money. It means putting on great shows that leave people scratching their heads. I also want to prove people wrong. To the people who say, “You can’t do that,” I say, “Let me try.”

AL: Have you had to attune your business savvy to deal with those challenges, or are you letting Pascal and Matt take care of that?

LF: No, I do everything. If you’re a smaller gallery, people might be more eager to help you out than if you’re a more established Chelsea gallery. So we’ve gotten a lot of support. But I deal with a lot of rejections.

AL: For all of your lack of pretentiousness and mellow attitude towards what you do, the name Leo Fitzpatrick is one that is known in the New York art world. Are people starting to recognize you for your connection to the art world as much as your acting career?

LF: Kids have come up to me on the street. At first, I thought they were going to talk to me about my acting, but then they said, “We really like Home Alone.” To me, that was the best feeling in the world. I think of acting and the art world as two different careers. And if you’re not going to sell your art, a kid stopping you on the street to say they like your work keeps you going.

AL: How do you go into choosing work for the gallery?

LF: The work has to excite me first. Everything I show gives me a gut reaction. There aren’t any politics to it. It’s not the artist who is hot at the moment. I’d rather show people who aren’t in the limelight, and give them the exposure. I’ll do more research, dig in the trenches, and try to find artists who were forgotten or who don’t get the respect they deserve. Hopefully, the rest of the audience will find it interesting, too.

AL: What you do makes people realize that it is possible not to come from a certain world or scene, and still be able to do what you want to do.

LF: For sure. I think we need to give these guys a little heat. If you can’t compete on their level, and you still attempt to create (whether it be art or a gallery or whatever), that shows that you have a lot of drive and hunger. From the beginning, you’re setting yourself up for failure, but you say, “Fuck, I’m going to do it anyway.” That’s awesome.

AL: You once said to me that the art world needs a grimy side. Do you think griminess can exist in this Chelsea system?

LF: Grimy can mean so many things. I think it’s the youth that will provide the “griminess.” Kids are unpolished. They’ll stay out until 4 in the morning and talk to each other and try to take over the art world. I love that kind of thing. Kids fucking up the system—to me, that’s great. It’s probably a good idea to get on those kids’ sides.

AL: How should they go about that?

LF: A kid just reached out to me from London and said—“Hey, I want to do a Home Alone in London.” You don’t need my permission. You can even use the title Home Alone. I don’t own it. It’s just an idea. You can sell art out of the back of your car and call it a gallery. Just fucking do it, man.

You can catch Leo Fitzpatrick's current curated show, Viewing Room: Richard Kern, at Marlborough Chelsea until December 23, 2015. You can follow Leo on Instagram: @lousyleo. text and interview by Adam Lehrer. Follow Autre on Instagram to stay up to date: @AUTREMAGAZINE

*Leo Fitzpatrick and Richard Kern by Adam Lehrer*

On Truth And Symbolism And the Universal Meaning of Life: An Interview With Artist Annina Roescheisen

November 4, 2015

Artist Annina Roescheisen is making her name known in the art world. Right now, you can see her formative series What Are You Fishing For? at the Venice Biennale, in the context of the European Pavilion. Starting today, the German-born artist who received her degree in art, philosophy and folklore from the elite Ludwig Maximilian University in Munich in 2008, will see her first solo gallery show in New York. Her series What Are You Fishing For? is emblematic of her work: rife with symbolism and metaphor, and dripping, literally, in pictorial beauty. In the following interview, Annina talks about the use of metaphor in her work, her experience getting to know New York and the meaning behind her self-designed tattoos.

Ariana Pauley: There are a lot of metaphors that you use in your work. Do you come up with the metaphor beforehand, or is it a fluid process?

Annina Roescheisen: It’s more of a fluid process. The whole story-writing is a process. It starts with a keyword or a phrase that I write down; I always have these little books with me. There are a lot of things going back and forth. Often, I have five things spinning around in my head at once. At a certain point, there is one story that ends up pushing forward. It can come from anywhere. So, the symbolism comes more naturally. It’s something I like to play with, but I don’t construct the work around the symbolism. It’s just a manner of expressing myself.

AP: For the film that was in the biennial, what would you say were the most important metaphors?

AR: In this one, I think it’s about life, death, and Renaissance. There are many others, but I would say those are the main three.

AP: How was your experience at the biennial? How did it all come about?

AR: It came through a gallery in Berlin—Circle Culture Gallery. The gallery owner really likes my work, but I don’t fit into his program (he’s more into abstract art, graffiti, etc.). He’s really very supportive. When he saw the film, he was applying for the Venice Biennale with another artist, and he proposed that I apply my film with him. I’m a young artist; I never thought they would say yes. But I had the answer in two days. I still don’t understand it sometimes. It’s so unreal that I just do it. I think it’s good, sometimes, to not understand what you’re going to do. It’s best to just do it.

It’s a tiny, tiny room. I don’t have the biggest room. But I am so happy to participate and to have the whole atmosphere.

AP: You just moved to New York. Are you nervous that the culture is going to affect your art? Do you think your time in Paris affected your art in a certain way?

AR: I think it always affects your art, where you live. In general, no matter where you live, it’s just about growing up. Definitely, my art is going to be affected, in a way. But it’s also growing more as a woman and growing up in general. Paris was good to grow up, as an artist. I feel more apt to face a bigger audience.

AP: Was there a specific reason why you decided to come to New York?

AR: It’s more open here. People are more curious. I like the way they think here. People just dare to do things. For them, doing things is experience. For me, that’s what life is about. It was nice to grow up in France, but people are not that positive. They are afraid to do things. Sometimes, the result doesn’t really matter at the end. Just go out and do something. In Paris, it could feel like a prison. I feel more open, more supported, and a bit crazier here.

AP: Is it your first time in New York?

AR: I’ve been going back and forth for a year. I wanted to know for sure where I wanted to settle. Sometimes, you have an idea of a city or a job which is not the real thing. I didn’t want to jump into an illusion. I was doing two months in Paris, a month here, two months in Paris, and a month here—for a year. If you move your ass in New York, you can really get somewhere. After the year, I knew I preferred it to France.

AP: What are you working on next?

AR: I wouldn’t say I’m hoping to deal with more mature work, but the next thing I’m working on is much more frontal. It’s still my signature, but my art thus far has dealt with subtle, hidden messages. You can decode if you want to, but you have to plunge into it. The next piece I’m working on is super frontal. You can’t escape it. I don’t know what’s going to happen after.

AP: How did you come to do this new work?

AR: The last one that I just finished—it’s called “A Love Story—is more subtle. It’s about emotions. I wanted to work on a topic called “Love.” It’s so cheesy. Everyone would want to vomit on it. But I wanted something both subtle and deep. Provocative things—nakedness, violence—they’re too easy. It’s super-subtle. Then, from that project, I wanted to do something more frontal.

The new thing I’m working on is called “The Exit Fairytale of Suicide.” It’s super hard-cut. It’s between black and white, hard and light. It’s still my work, but more frontal. The topic of suicide—you just can’t escape it.

"I write quite often. But when I was younger, I didn’t write a diary, I would write on my body. It’s the same thing—symbolism. It’s one sign that stands for a whole story."

AP: Are you focusing mainly on film now? Or are you still working with sculpture and photography?

AR: The photography always comes with the film. I really like to keep some moments of the film, for the audience. There are a lot of people that can’t buy video art. So I want to be aware of that. It’s nice to have a certain moment of a film that plunges you into the whole thing when you see it. So, when I do video art, my whole photography is based on the film. I really don’t like to do photography pure. In a film, you are more authentic. You’re not standing in a pose. The image is in the movement. For me, it’s a deeper photography than posing photography.

In terms of sculpture, there are going to be more museum shows, more installations that you will really have to walk through. I’m also creating sculptures that I integrate into my film.

AP: For your film and photography, is it always you as the subject?

AR: In the beginning, yes. When I was younger, I did some modeling. It was easy, because I knew exactly what I wanted for the images. It’s not about me. You’re like a tool, a transmitter. On “Pieta,” at that point, the easiest way to get what I wanted to convey was to use myself as the model. The movements are played in slow motion, but I didn’t want to edit the video too much. I don’t like to change my art in Photoshop or anything; I like to keep it as close as possible to the original film. It’s good when you’re aware of your body, and when you’re aware of the camera. For me, that was easiest.

For “What Are You Fishing For?” I would have loved someone to be in my place, but the water was, like, six degrees (about 43 Fahrenheit). You can offer to pay a model as much as you want, but if it’s not their project, they’re not doing it. I prepared for months—taking cold showers, reading up on those cult divers. I was psychologically prepared to do that.

This last film, I’m not in it. I’d like to be more and more in the back. But in a way, it’s nice when you have the experience in front of the camera. I can direct people better. I know exactly what I can ask them.

AP: You do a lot of humanitarian work. Will that translate into your new work? Are you planning on continuing that in New York?

AR: I would love to. I work a lot with autistic children. Every time I go to Paris, I still go to see them. I worked in a project in Berlin for street kids. I would still like to integrate my work into humanitarian projects. For the moment, I haven’t looked around at what is in New York, but I would like to do something.

It’s easy to do good stuff as well. It’s not always necessary to do something that is public. You can be a humanitarian all the time, in a way.

AP: Would you want your art to translate that to the viewer?

AR: My art has a lot to do with emotions in general, and I really try to keep it open for everybody. That’s the humanitarian side of it for me. I don’t like the “elite art” thing. I loved that in Paris, all the exhibitions had young people coming—13, 12, even younger. I really want to have an art that talks to everybody. On the other hand, I don’t know if there’s a day where I can really work in front of the camera with autistic children or with women’s rights. In a way, it’s in my work without being in my work, through my personality.

AP: You described your practice as a “social media practice.” Could you explain that?

AR: Actually, it’s a term that I would love to erase. It created a lot of confusion. “Social media,” for me, was word-by-word. “Social,” because I like to be in the social, humanitarian arena. “Media” is just the medium that I use. But “social media” as in Twitter, Instagram, whatever created so much confusion. I’m stepping back from the term, because it doesn’t describe my work as an artist.

AP: Tell me about your tattoos.

AR: I started early, when I was thirteen. I write quite often. But when I was younger, I didn’t write a diary, I would write on my body. It’s the same thing—symbolism. It’s one sign that stands for a whole story. Nowadays, I use more of the paperwork to describe things. When I was younger, I did it on my body.

AP: Did you design them all yourself?

AR: Most of them. I work with a friend who is a graphic designer in Munich, just so I can do it properly. I got a lot of inspiration from the Japanese artist Nara. I saw one of his images when I was five or six, without knowing anything about contemporary art. But it was always appealing to me—the side of the cute little girl paired with this more evil side. I loved the eyes with the stars inside—like the universe. There’s a lot of depth, even though it can seem childish. I love his art. He was a big inspiration for a few of my tattoos.

AP: Are there any artists specifically that inspire you?

AR: I like the paintings of German Romanticism—Freidrich, for example. I like literature as well. I love contemporary artists as well, but more for who they are. Marina Abramovic, for example. I’m not a big fan of her work, because it’s super violent. But I really like how she pushed herself to do something innovative and unique. She’s such a strong, spiritual woman. And her project, “The Artist,” is so great. Yes, nowadays, it’s a bit too commercialized, but I think she’s great.

AP: While you’re in New York, do you have any projects lined up besides the upcoming exhibition?

AR: I have a group show on the 22nd of November at Catinca Tabacaru Gallery on the Lower East Side. We’re about to talk about a solo exhibition there as well. I have two solo shows—one in Paris and one in Geneva—also in November. That’s the month. I’m working on other projects, but I’m waiting for confirmation before I spill any dates. The next show will probably be around springtime next year.

AP: Do you have a specific message that you want your new New York audience to get from your work?

AR: Not really. I think it’s not up to me. At the point that you exhibit your work, you give it up to people. It doesn’t belong to me anymore. Take whatever you want to take from it. I just hope that people will like it.

"What Are You Fishing For?" will open tonight and will be on view until December 1, 2015 at Elliott Levenglick Gallery, 90 Stanton Street, New York, NY. What Are You Fishing For? is also on view at the Venice Biennale until November 22, 2015 at Palazzo Bembo in the context of the European Pavilion. interview and photos by Adriana Pauly. intro text by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

No Hate, No Fear: An Interview With Artist On the Rise Marilyn Rondon

October 30, 2015

Text by Adam Lehrer

The first time I met Miami-based artist Marilyn Rondon was at this year’s New York Art Book Fair. She was working at a booth under the tent section of the fair and it’s very hard to not be immediately drawn towards her: a fiercely petite Venezuelan woman in her mid-‘20s with painfully beautiful bone structure, deep brown eyes, jet black hair, Olympian fitness level, and a vast collection of tattoos including script on her forehead and an amazing battle royale back piece done by Brad Stevens of New York Adorned. Trying to evade a pervasive sense of shyness, I briefly chatted with her while perusing through her impressive display of self-published zines and other work.

I ended up picking up a copy of her ‘Selfie Zine’ and as I browsed through it on the train home I was struck by its raw depictions of human friendship and exuberance. The format is simple enough: throughout the book Rondon appears in selfies along with male and female friends in varying degrees of clothing. Rondon’s willingness to show her self sans modern filters is striking. Her ‘Selfie’ book is the antithesis of Kim Kardashian’s ‘Selfie’ book in which Kim appears 100 percent made up and perfect in every photograph. Rondon actually seeks to reveal herself. To be known. Not to peddle an idealized version of herself.

Curious, I started following her work on both her Instagram (@calientechica) and her Tumblr pages (totallystokedonyou.com). In photography, creative projects, painting, writing, zine productions, and more, Rondon shares her life with her myriad followers. Her willingness to let people into her life has resulted in inspired creativity and the occasional public debacle. Her “Latina Seeks Thug” project was the result of her jokingly saying to a friend, “All I want in life is a thug to have a baby with.” In a stroke of mad genius, she decided to post an ad on Craigslist asking for that exact thing. Without even a picture, she got 101 emails in 17 hours from gentleman looking to take Rondon up on the offer. On the more difficult end of her creative life sharing, Rondon wrote an article in Dazed about her cheating boyfriend that he would eventually ask the publication to take down. She simply goes with her emotions and does her best to let everything fall in place. That is what makes her an interesting artist.

The first time I spoke with Marilyn she had just gotten back from a silence retreat and she was still flying high off the experience, making it the perfect time for an interview. She is incredibly warm and open yet simultaneously self-aware. She discussed much of her artistic philosophy and the brazen harassment from perverted men she suffers as a result to her commitment to her work. The sheer amount of activity Rondon engages in is astounding. Along with her social media projects and experiments, Marilyn has also started painting commissioned murals characterized by bold repetitive patterns. As a working model, she has a rigorous exercise routine and strict eating habits. A couple days after the interview I was out celebrating my birthday and Rondon was DJing in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. She literally does everything, and it all becomes a part of a rich and diverse artistic world. Marilyn Rondon is a contemporary artist to watch (on social media, and in her work).

Adam Lehrer: You work in so many different mediums. What was the first medium you messed with when you first felt an inclination towards creativity?

Marilyn Rondon: I was enrolled in a magnet art elementary school in the third grade. There, they teach you everything from ceramics to photography. I learned how to develop film when I was in the fourth grade. My dad was a musician. My mom is really artistic. My younger sister makes art and plays music. My older sister photographs and paints. I was fortunate. I always had my little sketchbook. I did ballet for a few years. Art was always my favorite. I could create my own world and distract myself from reality.

AL: That’s interesting that you say art distracts you from reality. When I look at your work, you put so much of yourself into it.

MR: I use myself as my subject a lot. Art should be about the human experience. I like to play around with the idea that this is my world, but it’s also collective… I really don’t know how to explain what I do.

AL: You’re great at illustration. You’re great at photography. But I also think your Instagram and Tumblr are really interesting. Do you consider all of it in the same domain of your work?

MR: I consider [social media] a reflection of my photography and my drawing. I’m just documenting my life and what I’m going through. I’m growing. I started documenting through photography really young. I would always take pictures with my Polaroid camera. I would take photos of my friends at school and on the weekends all the time. I was fascinated with holding on to the people I love and care about. It’s strange to call it art, but every photographer shoots what they want to shoot. I just want to shoot the moments I should remember. People always change; you never know when you’re going to stop seeing someone, for whatever reason. It’s really important for me to capture that.

AL: The mural stuff you’ve been doing is really amazing. How did that opportunity come up? Have you always been drawing in that repetitious pattern?

MR: Yeah. I always just draw the same thing. I feel fortunate, at such a young age, to have found that style which is so distinct. No one else’s stuff looks similar to mine. I honestly just do it because I love painting so much. The feeling I get when I put the paintbrush down—I’m in heaven. It’s so therapeutic. The most painting I did was in the past year, when I was getting over my breakup. I did 300 paintings.

AL: Do you think you’ll always continue with the multimedia aspect of your work, or are you shifting more towards painting?

MR: I haven’t painted in a month. It’s been really hard to not paint for that long, but I haven’t had a lot of inspiration. I was recently commissioned to do ten paintings in five days, which was really hard, because my paintings are intricate and cover the entire canvas. It was a shit show. I didn’t sleep for 36 hours. I’m literally the most determined person I know. I’ll sleep when I’m fucking dead.

AL: I love the “Latina Seeks Thug” debacle and subsequent show that you got into. Do you feel that your best ideas come from spur-of-the-moment things that happen in your life?

MR: Yeah, especially with that piece. I made that piece as a joke. In passing conversation, I said, “I’m going to do this, and it’s going to be hilarious.” I didn’t think it would have the amount of reach that it did. I didn’t think it would even be considered art. I totally forgot that I even put out the ad. My ribs hurt for the week straight after that because I couldn’t stop laughing.

AL: And there are guys that sent you dick pics?

MR: Yes. It happens to me on my Instagram too. I turn my phone on, and it’s just dudes sending selfies with, “Hi.” And then, immediately afterwards, it’s a picture of them jerking off. What do they get from this? These men that do this are clearly sex offenders. Any man in their right mind knows not to send a video of them jerking off to a stranger. They’re so sick in the head. It’s repulsive and scary. It’s all the time, too. And it’s not just me.

AL: I think it’s cool that you turned this disgusting habit of perverts doing disgusting things into something positive. You’re posting all of these guys’ pictures, but people still send them. Is it proving a point that these guys don’t learn?

MR: They’re brain dead. They see me as an object, and they don’t take the time to know me as a person. They just think, “Oh, she’s hot; I’m going to send her a picture of my dick.” Oh my god, you don’t know what I’m going to do with that photo? You idiot.

AL: Your conversations with other women reveal similar social media experiences. Do you find that the abuse women go through—on the Internet and in real life—is a common theme, or is it more extreme in some cases than others?

MR: It’s more extreme in certain cases than others. Or maybe not. Everything in life is constantly changing. We’re different people, in different environments, in different cities. I really don’t understand it. I want to know if men experience this. I want to interview guys who are on social media, to see if they have similar experiences with women. I’m interested in the other side of it, to see what it’s like for a guy who is posting a bunch of selfies on social media. Are girls sending him pictures of their tits? How common is this for a man? That’s where I want to go next.

AL: Well, I don’t know, if that happened to me, I don’t know if I would be bummed. Women have to endure all the time which makes it different.

MR: This shit also happens in real life. When I was eight years old, I was walking home from school one day, and some pervert flashed me on the street. It happened to my sisters and my friends. These men are obviously mentally ill. They don’t realize their behavior is not okay. They think that they are justified in doing it because women look a certain way or dress a certain way. There are boundaries in this world, regardless of how someone presents herself.

I understand that I’m an interesting-looking person, and I have to deal with people asking me questions about my body. People feel so entitled to harass me. I work at a bar, and these guys will be like, “Can I braid your hair?” I’m like, “Can you not touch me?”

AL: Do guys use your tattoos as an in, like a pickup line or something?

MR: Oh, yeah. And they think it’s a compliment, but it’s like—“Go away. I don’t want to talk to you.” And then they get upset and start to insult you if you don’t respond.

AL: When you are portraying nude women other than yourself, how do you navigate the male gaze?

MR: I basically have no ass, so I’ve always had this fascination with asses. Like the grass is always greener on the other side. So I approach my subjects with curiosity. I just play around with them in a way that I would want to be shot. I’m comfortable with my body. I think sexuality is totally okay. I’m very comfortable with my figure, and with the woman figure. It’s not something that should be shameful. We’re human beings. When I’m shooting girls, I’ll say, “Oh, I wish I could look like this, can you do this?” And they’ll do it. It’s like I’m playing out my fantasy.

AL: So it’s still a representation of you, even though you’re not the intended subject?

MR: Yeah, I guess.

AL: Have you ever had a moment where you shared something about yourself or anyone else that you regretted?

MR: Oh, all the time. Half the things I post on Instagram, 20 minutes later I’m like—I shouldn’t have done that. I feel like that’s natural for most people. That happened to me earlier this year, actually. I was on a trip with my ex, and I found out he was cheating on me. Then, there was an article in Dazed about it. He was very upset, and asked them to take it down. I didn’t do the piece as revenge. I didn’t want to hurt him. I had to use the words that I used to show him how we was treating me. I made the piece to raise awareness about the places we put ourselves in for the people we love. But it was totally taken in the wrong context. I was portrayed in the wrong way, and I suffered for a long time because of it.

I come from a family of abuse. I was abused for a really long time. When you’re abused for a long time, you think it’s normal. But it’s not normal. You need to be treated with love and compassion. Love should be unconditional. That’s what I wanted to get across.

AL: Do you regret any of the work you make?

MR: I don’t regret any of the work I make. But it can be exhausting. People judge who you are without knowing anything about you. I’ve put things out that have made me grieve. But that’s the life of an artist.

AL: I find it amazing how open you are with talking about mental illness and the things you have been through. It’s inspiring. Do you feel you have a responsibility to erase some of those stigmas?

MR: That’s why I do what I do—because of where I’ve been, what I’ve gone through, how I got out of it. I know how hard it is to be there. It becomes much bigger than it really is. I have people write me every day, saying, “I’m going through the hardest time. Can you give me some advice?” I make myself available. I’m not a therapist, but I try to help people through what I’ve learned. If I can affect just one person in a positive way, I’m happy. I don’t need money for that. We live in a world where people are so closed off. People don’t know how to love, how to love themselves.

AL: Did you move to Miami for a change of scene, or for work?

MR: I moved to Miami the day after I broke up with my ex, because I wanted to murder him. But I grew up in Miami. The only way I was going to get over him was to never see him again, so I uprooted my life. But it was the best thing ever.

I’m taking a break from painting, but I’m having my very first solo photo show in January in Miami!

AL: Do people ever interpret your intensity as coming off too strong?

MR: Yeah, but I kind of like it. I’ve learned to love without expectation. I feel so free because of it. I can tell someone I love him/her and I don’t expect to hear it in return. I just want them to know that they are loved. People’s ideas of love are so skewed because of the romance movies and books they read. No. Love is about sharing. It’s not selfish. And when you love yourself 100%, you can love freely.

You can find more of Marilyn Rondon's photography and art on her website - you can also check out current and previous zines. You can also check out a selection of those dick pics here. Text and interview by Adam Lehrer. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Art In the Age of Afrogallonism: An Interview with Ghanaian Artist Serge Attukwei Clottey

October 26, 2015

There are not a lot of artists willing to get dragged by a noose through the streets of Accra, the capital of Ghana, in the name of social justice. Gallon by gallon, Ghanaian artist Serge Attukwei Clottey is returning your used plastic refuse in the form of beautiful masks and mask-like sculptures that take on haunting human expressions. In the artist’s native Ghana, yellow canisters are ubiquitous and have become a seamless part of the country’s landscape. Where these containers come from has become a source of plight for the people of Ghana and central to Clottey’s artistic practice. Originating in Europe, the containers once held cooking oil, but after a water shortage, the containers were repurposed to hold water and gasoline. Over time, though, the gallon jugs have become so plentiful that they have started to pollute the beaches and even landfills. Clottey has coined the term “Afrogallonism” to describe this exercise and it has, over the years, become his rallying cry. Indeed, there is something very punk in what the artist is trying to achieve. Many of his sculptures come from works created by Clottey for his performance collective GoLokal, which has held numerous public presentations that have to do with displacement, migration, colonialism and Africa’s place in the treacherous nexus of a vastly globalized world. A land rich with resources, but flooded with greed. Footage of Clottey being dragged through the streets by a noose while performers throw money at him was replayed multiple times a day for a week straight on the local news. Reverberations of Clottey’s message is slowly making its way westward to the States. Officially opening today, Mesler/Feuer gallery in New York presents an exhibition entitled “The Displaced” where you can experience many of Clottey’s incredible assemblages, wood installations and plastic sculptures in person. Autre caught up with Clottey during the installation of his current exhibition to discuss his own art history, his politically and socially charged performances, and his ideas of the “New Africa.”

Adriana Pauley: How did your art career start? Did you always know you wanted to become an artist?

Serge Attukwei Clottey: My dad is an artist. I drew and painted at an early age. But I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pursue art as a career. I was more interested in electronics. Growing up in Africa as a child, we got all of these electronics imported from America. I was very interested in how they functioned and in who is behind that creative process. But because my dad is an artist, he thought that I should pursue art. He was going to give me the platform to be successful in that field. So, I got chance to study art in Ghana for four years. Then, I studied in Brazil.

AP: How did you decide you wanted to study in Brazil? Was it a similar culture? Did that influence your art?

SAC: After going through four years in art school, I wanted a way to further my education. I had a scholarship to study in Brazil for three months. I wanted to experience a different place, and how art is shaped differently in that place. Brazil actually changed my entire relationship with art. I became more experimental with materials. In art school, I learned how to paint traditionally. In Brazil, I got a sense of contemporary art. When I came back to Ghana, my approach was totally changed.

AP: Does your interest in electronics come up at some points in your work?

SAC: Yes. Electronics have been a part of my practice from childhood. Now, I combine art and electronics. I work more with performance and installation. I work more with electronic interests. It has given me a new platform to visualize those ideas with materials. It has given me a lot of exposure. It’s very new—combining art and electronics, in Ghana especially.

AP: Has art always been a big part of your life?

SAC: Growing up with my dad, I studied how to paint even before I went to art school. I don’t feel anything special about art, because I grew up in that space. It was a very creative upbringing.

AP: You recently did a performance piece, and you have a performance collective now. What has been the response from the public?

SAC: From the beginning, people were unsure about it. The guys who are in it are not artists actually; they are from different careers. There are a lot of creative people in the community where I was born, but they don’t have the platform to explore that. As an artist, I have that platform. I find a way to bring them together to address issues in our community. Since then, it has been very challenging. The topics we work on are very political. We have very religious subjects. We explore gender identity. Over time, people have become more understanding. We have a lot of presence in the media, in publications. We are trying to address issues such as how the politicians manipulate youth during elections. And how after, they have nothing to offer. We were very critical about that, and it was on TV the whole week before elections. It gave us a lot of publicity. It tells me that it’s possible to create that sort of a platform. I hope we can establish a company which serves as a profit for the group, and for the locals as well.

AP: Would you say, generally, that you would like to give something back to society? To educate them about certain issues?

SAC: I grew up in the community. Ghana has been my inspiration. It makes sense to extend my exposure to the community. The community has been my main collective in exploring my artistic ideas.

AP: In one of the performances you did, you traced the journeys of your family. Your ancestors used to go to the north of Ghana, and come back to the south with different Buddhist techniques. Does that spiritual aspect play into your work?

SAC: It’s played a major role in my work. I wanted to narrate my family’s journey, because we also have a migration background that no one knows about. I’m using the narrative to make a new construction relating to my present work. The idea of continents, of transporting something from one continent to another, is very interesting to me. My family would transport from one town to another, but there is no proper documentation of that history. In my artistic practice, I want to reconstruct that history for my generation. I’m interested in combining my family history in relationship to my new work.

I’m interested in the sea and how it navigates the world together. I’m also interested in finding ways to trade back to the West. All of my materials are imported from Europe or America. The trade relationship changes the value of materials. Africa has come to realize how trade has come to benefit the West. As an artist, I want to find a strategic way to trade back to the West with materials that now benefit Africa.

"Our development needs to be seen. It needs to be shown to the world. We have to acknowledge our past, but we need to develop our present, our future. I’m interested in creating a link between Africa and the people who have been displaced from Africa."

AP: Do you see any parallels between your family’s journeys and your own journeys now?

SAC: I’ve traveled a bit throughout the continent, and I’ve seen how African art is being pursued in different ways. It’s not about people struggling in Africa. I’ve shown my work in Ghana as well as all over the world. There’s a possibility for change that African art is exploring. My family background has been a guide in my artistic journey. I see how powerful my ancestors were trading on the coast. That is the spiritual aspect that has been guiding me on my journey.

AP: You use a lot of plastic, which is very important in the United States. It is important in Africa, too, but for other reasons. Do you address that issue?

SAC: I try to address where my materials come from, and how that changes the value of those materials. There is a big difference between a plastic that is made to be presentable and a plastic that is being dumped somewhere.

AP: How do you gather that material?

SAC: We collect them on the coastal beaches, as well as at dump sites. In Ghana, because of the volume, there is no space to consume them. They find ways to dump them. We don’t have proper recycling structures. You end up seeing them on the streets and in the ocean. For me, the material plays a very significant role in my work. I take care in picking out and repurposing the plastic that has been discarded.

AP: What about colors? I know you use a lot of yellow. Do colors have a certain meaning in your work?

SAC: The dominant color is yellow because yellow is used for transporting oil. Looking at yellow in Ghana, it’s in our flag to symbolize wealth. But I want to change that. It shouldn’t be about the “New Africa.” What can we generate from this plastic? It has become part of our life. We need that to survive. Instead of getting it out, we can use them. We can’t just store them; need to take care of the environment. Once I put them together, I can build houses. We need to innovate new ways of dealing with this.

AP: Can you explain your concept of “Afrogallonism?”

SAC: Afrogallonism is a word I made up after working with this plastic for fifteen years. Over time, it has become my second skin. Every time I see a gallon, I get inspired. I realized that the top of it looks like a mask. Afrogallonism is the new Africa, the future of Africa. We have traditional masks, but this is the mask of our time. This is a relevant mask that brings up issues of water and environment. It’s a movement that I started. I want to find ways to inspire people to work with plastic. Afrogallonism is a word that came up after realizing how much time I have spent working with this material.

AP: What would you like your American audience to take away from your exhibition?

SAC: The displays are about migration and how people have been displaced all over the world. Coming from Africa, I’m interested in bringing that kind of connection—the relationship of humans and materials. I’m interested in how migration has displaced everyone. I want the audience to see that this is a New Africa. This is Africa in the 21st century. This is what we are going through. Our development needs to be seen. It needs to be shown to the world. We have to acknowledge our past, but we need to develop our present, our future. I’m interested in creating a link between Africa and the people who have been displaced from Africa. As this material comes to America, I hope to create that link.

AP: Do you have any upcoming shows or performances planned?

SAC: Right after this exhibition, I have a performance in Ghana, just before the next election. I’m very critical. When it comes to politics, people have loud voices, but they are not heard. As an artist, together with my collective, we perform in public space. We hit the matter hard. We want to use our exposure to address that relevant issue.

Serge Attukwei Clottey's "Displaced" is on view now through November 22 at Mesler/Feuer Gallery, 319 Grand Street, 2nd Floor New York, NY. Follow Afrogallonism here. intro text by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Interview and photographs by Adriana Pauly. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Every Day Is Like Sunday: An Interview With Claressinka Anderson On The Domestication of Art And Eschewing The Traditional Gallery

October 22, 2015

Step into Claressinka Anderson’s beautiful, but modest-by-comparison, contemporary home on the border between Santa Monica and Venice Beach in Los Angeles and you are stepping into a new breed of art gallery: part home, part gallery, and part breeding ground for ideas. Lately, there is a trend amongst gallerists – from Los Angeles to New York to Miami – who are eschewing the traditional white-walled platform and exposing art in a much more organic environment; one that is conducive to conversing, socializing, and yes, collecting. But this platform of showing art is not new – the French nobility and wealthy patrons of the arts have a long history of turning their homes into art galleries. In fact, they were the first art galleries. It was only in the 20th century, when art became much more of a global enterprise, that art needed a much more “professional” environment – a storefront to show an artist’s work – and thus the traditional gallery was born. But sometimes, the stark atmosphere of a gallery can be intimidating for collectors – new and experienced. This is where Marine Projects and Marine Salon comes in. Claressinka Anderson – its founder – is much more interested in the introduction between artists and collectors, as well as the innovation of ideas. What better place for this conduction than her home, with it’s open floor plan, double-height walls, and an intimate courtyard. You feel at home and the art you see on the walls makes much more sense that way. Last week, Anderson invited us into her home for a chat – Salon No. 13 was in full swing with works by up-and-coming artist Fay Ray lining the walls, sculptures by Galia Linn guarding the entrance, and other works perfectly placed as if they’ve been there all along. There is something undeniably glamorous about Anderson. She is knowledgeable about the arts, passionate about the arts and has a deep appreciation for the allure of art. In our interview, we chat about her early interests in art, the impetus for turning her home into an art gallery and how Morrissey lyrics can become a powerful philosophy for living life.

OLIVER KUPPER: So, what made you decide to start a salon style gallery in your home?

CLARESSINKA ANDERSON: I was interested firstly in the historical salons from France - the 17th and 18th century salons and then going into the 19th century. I think the very first salons, although there’s not a lot written about them, were actually from the 16th century and were in China.

I had always been really fascinated by the idea of these intellectual gatherings around art and literature and music that took place in people’s homes. So I was interested in re-contextualizing that in the contemporary art world and making contemporary art accessible for young people and people that are potentially interested in starting to collect.

OK: What are some of your earliest experiences with art?

CA: I grew up in London, and I have my parents to thank for exposing me to art from a very early age. They weren’t really into contemporary art, but they were very much into the arts in general. Theatre and music, and they took me to museums. I don’t have any particular memories of it, but I’ve been told by my mother that I was always drawn to, as she would say, the avant-garde. Which I think for her was more like modernism, but that’s what I was really drawn to. When I was five I became obsessed with Picasso, so it started pretty young. I would ask her to take me to the National Gallery and I would actually copy Picasso’s paintings into a little sketchbook I had. She still has some of my weird little rudimentary drawings of boobs.

OK: Did your parents collect art?

CA: They did, but like I said, not contemporary. They collected kind of more traditional, and some modernist influenced art, but not actual modern art. They didn’t have the money for that kind of thing.

OK: So, you started Marine Projects as a salon style gallery and then you shifted things into a more traditional setting and then back again – what was the reason for this?

CA: It just suits me and my character better. I’m also more of a free spirit, and not that I’m not a business woman, but you really have to be super super cutthroat to be a top tier dealer, I think. I’m just not really that person. And I think if you had done this interview with me a couple years ago I probably wouldn’t have even admitted that, but I feel comfortable saying that now. I’m more comfortable in myself now too - I’ve come to a place where I just really want to live authentically in the same way that I want to work with artists who have really authentic practices. And I struggled with it, I thought: am I really going to be this person? Am I really going to go to every single art fair? Am I going to do all these things that you have to do when you’re tied to that traditional model? And I just made the decision that actually, no I am not.

OK: So who are some artists that you’re really excited about right now?

CA: Well, to start, all the women artists in my current exhibition. Also, a couple of the artists I’ve worked with, Jow, in the back room who has a solo project, she was an artist at the gallery so I’ve worked with her before. And then Fay Ray, she was another artist who I’m working with again and I feel really deeply invested in her career. There’s also this young artist called Shoshi Kanokohata who just graduated from UCLA and he’s a sculptor. He’s working in ceramics and he’s doing really interesting work. I haven’t had a chance to work with him yet but I’ve bought one of his pots and I’d like to. He also does more conceptual pieces from his more traditional, more Japanese background throwing pots with the glazes. They’re just really, really beautiful. So I really respond to, and love his work. I collect ceramics, it’s something I’ve gotten into recently so he’s someone who I really like.

OK: So the home itself- did you look for a space that would accommodate the work, or what was that process like?

CA: I did actually. It wasn’t in a time when I had realized what I’d be doing yet, because I lived here for almost 2 years before I started the salons. But I definitely bought the house with showing art in mind. I didn’t necessarily think I’d have my own business out of here, at the time I was working with another gallery, but I knew that I wanted to collect and show work. I walked in here and I was amazed by how much space there was, for a house that’s at the end of the day not that big, on a lot that isn’t that big, I just thought the use of space was so fantastic. Particularly this double height wall and that raised wall above the front door, I was really inspired by the possibilities - these are dynamic spaces. I’ve had a lot of collectors come into this space who live in much bigger houses, and they are actually envious of how much wall space I have. It’s just really great for art.

OK: It is great, and it’s great for a salon.

CA: Yeah and I think it’s this really nice hybrid between home and gallery where it has a warmth to it. It’s a home, but it still has really tall walls. I was talking about it with Ariel Herwitz, and she was saying “I’ve shown my work in lots of galleries that have lower ceilings.”

"...You really have to be super super cutthroat to be a top tier dealer, I think. I’m just not really that person. And I think if you had done this interview with me a couple years ago I probably wouldn’t have even admitted that, but I feel comfortable saying that now."

OK: Absolutely. Are there any challenges between showing in a gallery setting and a home?

CA: It’s more just the opening of yourself to having a lot of random people in your house. You would think I’m a super open person, but I’m actually pretty private. So it’s funny that I’ve decided to do this, because I’ve really had to open myself to the idea. And it’s fine when I have people who I’ve already gotten to know a little bit, or I’ve had exchanges with. But sometimes I do get random emails from people and I have no idea who they are and they want to come by. I’m here by myself and I really don’t know, so there’s things like that where I’m a little unsure. I try and do a little bit of a check to figure out who everybody is before they come over.

OK: So I want to talk about some patrons of the art, or some other inspirations when it comes to salons. Can you name any specific people or institutions?

CA: I mean definitely; I’d have to say Gertrude Stein would be an obvious one for me. Because I actually really was looking at her for an inspiration for what she did in Paris- I mean she was essentially running a museum out of her home, and all these incredible people were involved. And she was also a collector, I mean she was a collector, a patron, an intellectual, a visionary. She would have to be my number one inspiration. I also read Peggy Guggenheim’s autobiography, or one of them a few years back and was really interested in her story too. The idea of how someone’s truly personal interest in art and love of art can then grow out into something that really educates a lot of people and brings it to a wider audience, same with Gertrude Stein. I am interested in that, and it being accessible. I think that oftentimes when you get to a certain level gallery, you no longer become accessible to a lot of people. That’s really not what I’m trying to do - my true inspiration is to start people off as collectors.

OK: So Marine Projects is like the gateway drug for collecting art.

CA: (Laughs) I like that.

OK: I mean, it’s addictive.

CA: No it’s hard! Usually in couples there tends to be one person driving the collecting a little more than the other, it just tends to be that way. With my husband, I’m recently married - I just got married in May, I’m definitely the one that drives the collecting. But he’s really open to it too. We will definitely continue to collect together.

OK: It’s addictive, but you also get to live with art. And that’s an amazing and beautiful thing- to live with art.

CA: You just reminded me of one thing that I’ve really learned, that’s very different from my experience of doing shows here versus at a regular gallery. I’m really cognizant of how much the energy of the home changes from show to show depending upon what work is in it. And because I’m living with it, you feel it differently than you do when you see it in a gallery. Obviously it’s the same thing, a gallery is a blank slate, it’s a white cube, and everything that goes into it also changes it. But something about actually living with it day to day - you know to have breakfast, taking a shower, being in it all the time, you really are affected by it. And I think that we are energetic beings and art has energy in it, it really does. When I de-install shows, there’s always a couple of days where there’s nothing on the walls and it feels so uncomfortable to me. It’s funny because the people who are living next door and renting the house, I went there a while ago and they don’t have anything on the walls. It’s just amazing to me that they just don’t live with any art - and so many people don’t.

OK: It’s a very weird thing.

CA: I get sad, and I start to feel kind of anxious when there’s nothing on the walls. With this particular show, I really love it, and it’s a great show to live with, but I’ve also specifically put pieces in shows that are a little bit difficult to live with sometimes, or things that I wouldn’t necessarily want to live with all the time. Because I think that we shy away from things that are uncomfortable. In terms of collecting, those are often pieces that work well in gallery settings but then people don’t actually want to take them home. So I’m trying to do that as well.

OK: But art should interrupt your life in some way.

CA: Exactly, exactly. So that’s another aspect of what I try and do here too. Same with Galia’s vessel upstairs on the coffee table like that. Proportionally it’s too big for that coffee table, but we really wanted it to be in the space.

OK: What is your advice to new collectors who are hesitant about collecting art? Is there a piece of advice that you always give them in one form or another?

CA: I actually do. For me, and I’m sure it’s different for every person, but I really say: you have to absolutely love every single thing that you buy. Irrespective of whether you think it’s a good investment, irrespective of all these things, which are things that should be taken into account - you know I always say that you don’t want to pay some sort of exorbitant amount of money for something that isn’t worth it, and it is important to research. But at the end of the day none of that matters because it could all fall apart anyway. So the question is: will you be happy with that thing on your wall? Or on the floor? Wherever it is, you have to love it.

OK: Okay, last question, we noticed some pillows upstairs with Smiths and Morrissey lyrics – is there a story behind those?

CA: That’s kind of a cool story, it’s a little more personal. So there’s this artist, Lisa Borgnes Giramonti, and she did these hilarious tongue in cheek, needle point paintings. They were poking fun at Hollywood and botoxed ladies and all these things. I really am drawn to text-based work just in general, and I had gone over to her house just to do a studio visit and she had one of these pillows in her house. Because I knew she did a lot of needlepoint stuff I figured she had done it herself, and she said “yes, I’ve kind of just been doing them for friends… a little side project.” And I liked the Smiths growing up, so I saw the sweetness I was only joking one and I really liked it, so I asked her if I could have that one and she said yes so I bought it from her. When I met my now-husband, I found out that he was a major Morrissey fan which was just a super funny thing. I mean I liked the Smiths, but he was a huge fan, and I thought that was pretty funny because I grew up in London and he grew up in Cupertino. So quite soon into our relationship, it was his birthday and I contacted Lisa, and she actually made one for him. And then I gave it to him as a gift for his house. I think in the back of my mind, I was always thinking that at some point the pillows are going to be together! So now they are. Another layer to the Everyday is Like Sunday, is that Sunday is our special day and it’s the one day of the week that we always spend together unless one of us is traveling. So it became this almost philosophy for us, that we were going to live our lives with an Everyday is Like Sunday attitude.

Salon No. 13: Works 373 – 417 will be on view until November 21, 2015 At Marine Art Salon – you can send an email or call to make an appointment. text and photography by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Kill The Clown, Keep The Comedian: An Interview With The Devilishly Brilliant Marc Horowitz

October 9, 2015

Marc Horowitz is a genius, but he may also be the devil. His work is satanically brilliant. Over the last ten years, Horowitz has performed riotous pranks that have taken on the form of conceptual art and mad marketing schemes that seem at times Bernaysian, but always dementedly creative. He has taken a mule to run errands in San Francisco, he started a semi-nudist colony, he has tried to convince the board of the Golden Gate Bridge to build giant fans to blow away the fog so tourists could take pictures and he spent an entire year of his life trying to have dinner with 30,000 people after he wrote his name and number on a whiteboard in a Crate & Barrel catalogue. And that is only a sliver of his antics. When the stock market crashed, he tried to bail out the banks with his artwork. Today, Horowitz will see the official opening of his first solo show at the Depart Foundation in Los Angeles. How he has never had a formal solo art exhibition in a U.S. gallery is a question that even boggles the artist. Entitled Interior, Day: A Door Opens, the exhibition combines works on canvas and sculptures that took the artist an entire year to create. The sculptures harken back to Roman and Greek antiquity, but if you look closer, you'll notice one statue with a strange smirk, an 8-ball sword thrown through its chest with BRB written on the blade – or you may look even closer and notice that he has included strange cat figurines, artifacts taken from his mother’s home in the Mid-West (she’s a hoarder Marc would later tell us). In the following interview, Horowitz talks about being the weirdest kid in school, selling “poop shoes” to Mormons, and the symbiotic relationship between fine art and commercial art.

Oliver Kupper: You grew up in the Midwest. What were some of your earliest introductions to creativity and art?

Marc Horowitz: My mom enrolled me in art classes from the ages of five to nine. And then I was just a fucking weirdo. I used to breakdance for senior citizens when my grandmother did Meals on Wheels. I organized a breakdancing competition for these elderly people.

OK: How many people were competing?

MH: There were four of us, and about four people watching us—all of whom probably didn’t understand what was going on.

OK: And there was a ghost removal happening? What was that?

MH: I moved around a lot as a kid. We ended up in South Carolina. At that time, Ghostbusters had just come out. I was a huge fan—I bought the cassette tape and I would listen to it all the time. I was very entrepreneurial as a kid. I made a business card that said, “Ghostbusters and Cleaning Service.” My friend and I handed these business cards out—putting them under people’s doors and in their mailboxes. My mom was getting calls at 3 in the morning—“There’s something moving upstairs. We’re frickin’ terrified. Can you come now?” She would say, “I’ll send my son over in the morning. He can help you out.” I’m about eight at this time. I built this homemade box, like a ghost box. My friend Ian and I would show up to people’s houses like this. They would literally look straight ahead and then down to where I was standing. We would do this whole performance—banging on things, making a lot of noise. At one point, we had dry ice. When we were done, we’d ask, “Can we sweep your porch for 5 bucks?” That was my first business.

OK: You said you were entrepreneurial. It seemed like you were verging into some sort of performance art or conceptual art. Did you know you were doing that, or was it purely being an imaginative kid?

MH: I think it was hyper imagination. It was sort of like restless leg syndrome. I had so much energy. My mom refused to put me on Ritalin. Teachers used to say, “You have to get that kid under control.” I was the fucking class clown. Everything that went wrong in the class would be pointed at me. Out of necessity to keep myself entertained, I would make friends in this weird way. One time, it backfired, and there was a good five-year period before high school in which I was a complete nerd.

OK: How did it backfire?

MH: I told everyone at school that there were aliens that had landed in the forest behind the school. I convinced everybody. I got everyone at recess to line up along the fence, and I was just running down the line saying, “Look for the shiny objects!” I was fucking out of my mind. The teachers were trying to break it up. I went to the principal’s office, of course.

The first time I went to the principal’s office, it was the first day of kindergarten. The teacher had to leave the room for an emergency call, and I organized the whole class to hide so that we could surprise her. She was terrified. And when she asked, “Who did it?” everyone pointed at the bathroom. Of course, I was the only one hiding in the bathroom.

OK: You went to school for economics. Where did you want to go with that degree?

MH: It was a minor in microeconomics, with a major in marketing. At the time, I was working in the cornfields in Indiana. Because it was agriculture, I was being paid less than minimum wage--$4 an hour or some shit. I was cross-pollinating corn. All my friends were going to business school, and that sounded awesome. I wanted to make some fucking money. That’s about it.

OK: And then, the Crate & Barrel thing happened. You wrote your name and your number on their whiteboard. Did you expect insanity to ensue after that?

MH: No, I thought it would just be an inside joke. Six people would see it. It was a cascade of events. So, I went on this business trip. I was given fifty dollars a night for food, but I couldn’t keep all of it if I didn’t use it. Which is ridiculous. So I would invite different people out for dinner until I exhausted it. Then, I put up an ad on Craigslist—“Free Dinner.” The morning news picked it up as a story. The next day at work, everyone was making fun of me. They were like, “Oh, what do you want to write on the board, Mr. Cool, Mr. Ad-Guy?” And I thought, “Let’s extend this even more.” So I wrote “Dinner with Marc” and then my cell phone number. I promised everyone on set that I would take everyone who responded out to dinner. I forgot about that shit until I got a call from Jake in Overland Park, Kansas, wanting to go out to dinner. And then it just never stopped.

OK: What was one of the weirdest dinner dates?

MH: There were some fucking weird ones. There was this family in San Juan Bautista with 25 people. There was one here in LA—I met the guy who was the producer of Britney Spears’s movie Crossroads. He was trying to pitch to me over dinner for a movie about a guy that puts his number in a Victoria’s Secret catalogue, and the character goes from becoming a nerd to the cool guy. Some guy ran an obstacle course for corporate people. It was nuts.

OK: It seemed like a convergence of you wanting to get out of the corporate world and other people wanting something fun to do.

MH: It was like a portal. I like to create these situations that take you away from reality. That’s what I do.

OK: You have a marketing background. What do you think the line is between marketing and fine art?

MH: That’s a big question. Can they work together? I don’t think they’re on opposing sides. I think they’re hugging each other. Without marketing, you couldn’t have the art world. The art world doesn’t want to acknowledge that it participates in some of the same things that the rest of the world participates in.

OK: In the sense of being accepted by mainstream media, they seem like marketing strategies for your creative endeavors. When does fine art enter that stream?

MH: I did a project called “Sliv & Dulet Enterprises.” I had this alter ego—Burt Dulet. He had a mullet. He ran this agency with Kyle Sliv, his partner. We created a summer line of products and services. It was artists posing as business people posing as artists. It was very confusing. We set up shop in this gallery in San Francisco. We developed these hijinks. We had a meeting with Golden Gate National Park Service. We were trying to pitch them on the idea to install 75-foot fans to blow the fog away so tourists could take photos of the city and not be disappointed. They were looking around the room and thinking, “What the fuck is going on here?” There was another time, for the signature series, in which I had to sell poop shoes to Mormons. The idea was that it's a pair of shoes that you put over your shoes when you go into public restrooms so that no one knows who's going poop.

Marketing was such an integral part in a lot of these things. If a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound? It doesn’t. You need eardrums there for it to make a sound. Much in the same way, artists need people to make their work resonate. Marketing played a big role in working these projects, in something like the National Dinner Tour, or working with a group to sell them on poop shoes.

"Marketing was such an integral part in a lot of these things. If a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound? It doesn’t. You need eardrums there for it to make a sound. Much in the same way, artists need people to make their work resonate."

OK: Your current show is your first solo exhibition. Why did it take so long?

MH: I didn’t even realize it until I was approaching it. I was like, “Holy fuck. This is it, man.” The Europeans entertained me for a while, but I didn’t sell anything, so I was gone. I didn’t need the galleries. When I had an agent, Sony Pictures and MTV were my galleries. They were my vehicles. I didn’t need the traditional galleries. I took a different route. Harrell Fletcher changed the way I thought about art as a whole. I went out and did all of these performances while I was going to school. I was anti-gallery. It’s the capitalist machine. I didn’t want to be a part of it.

OK: Do you think something changed in the art market that made you more accepting?

MH: Things changed outside of the art market. There became too much compromise. In working with companies like Nissan and Sony, I became coopted wholly. I realized that they do, actually, have all the power. I’m left with minimal power. I can re-edit things and present my own version, but who is really making the decisions? That led me to the project, “The Advice of Strangers.” For me, that represented a huge failure. I started grad school at the exact same time. Honestly, after that, I was done with performance. It was too hectic—mentally and physically.

OK: So you had more freedom in the studio?

MH: Yes.

OK: What is the relationship between all the pieces in the show? What’s the vision for the cohesive whole?

MH: I think the thesis for the show is conflating personal history with art history. I went to grad school for two, long, grueling years. Charlie White said, “Kill the clown, but keep the comedian.” It made me clownish. I wanted to cut that part of my practice, which meant severing my ties to video and performance—at least for now. I wanted to go back to the studio, back to my roots—which is painting and sculpture. It’s a return home.

OK: And a lot of your humor is still infused.

MH: The humor is still fully here. It’s also a collaboration with family. My mom is a hoarder, and she gives me these cats and these weird things. We started a photo series where I would photograph all the weird shit she gave me for Christmas and such. I began incorporating elements of the photographs into the sculptures.

OK: People like to describe your work as “Net Art” or “Post-Internet Art.” What the hell does that mean?

MH: I’ve taught two classes on it, and I still can’t answer that fucking question. Personally, I’m on my own island. “Net Art” has become so convoluted. Post-Internet Art especially. That confuses a lot of people. Everybody’s making post-Internet art if you think about it. A lot of the practice had to do with technology—incorporating blogs, Twitter, online audiences. But I wasn’t a chatter. I wasn’t an active community member—I was an outlier. Whatever technology or materials serve the purpose of the idea, that’s that.

OK: What’s next?

MH: I’m releasing my own cryptocurrency in a month. It’s called “H Coin.” It’s live now, but I haven’t officially released it. The value is based on my mood, productivity, and sales. I plug this in every day, and the value goes up and down. I’m selling this series of photographs that I worked on with my mom through this medium. You can play Snake to earn the coin. Some guy played enough snake—probably 40 hours—and got himself a piece. He said, “I just moved to LA. I’m super bored, and I wanted the piece.” He deserved it. It’s been a process. It’s not a true cryptocurrency in that people are solving block chains and shit, but it’s in the vein of a cryptocurrency. Also, I’m having a show in Berlin in February.

OK: Was it a different experience being in the studio than being out in the world?

MH: I was so sick of making film edits and sitting at a computer. I was sick of frame-fucking everything. I wanted to see a direct mark to something physical. You put down fucking yellow—there it is, you deal with that right now. For me, it was a relief. It felt right.

Interior, Day: A Door Opens will be on view until December 19 at the Depart Foundation in Los Angeles. You can check the exchange rate for the hCOIN here. Text, interview and photographs by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

The Future Relic: An Interview of Artist and Fictional Archeologist Daniel Arsham

September 11, 2015

Daniel Arsham makes art. His studio is nestled away on a quiet street in the Greenpoint neighborhood in Brooklyn. You could pass his studio door a hundred times and not even notice it, were you not looking for it. The front of the building almost looks to be an extension of his art. And, behind the unassuming door is a vast treasure of ash, crystal, obsidian and other substances that make up the various forms of his sculptures. Sharing a moment with Arsham back in May, he talked a little about some of the newer projects he is working on.

Eric Morales: Can we get a summary of what you’ve been doing the last few months and what you have coming up?

Daniel Arsham: One is a film project. I did the premiere at TriBeCa film festival last month and this is a film called Future Relic that takes place in the future. I divided the film into nine sections that I’ve made independently. The sections, while vignettes of certain times in the future, they link together to become a Future Film. Number 3 of that series, which stars Juliette Lewis, was premiered at TriBeCa and we are doing a screening in Cannes and the following weekend in Istanbul.

I also recently opened a large scale exhibition at the contemporary art center in Cincinnati. This includes a lot of the cast works in geological materials, ash and crystal. I recreated a work that had been shown in Miami, which was made to look like an excavation. Underneath the floor it looks like an archeological site. There’s nowhere to dig [in Cincinatti] so I just made it into this massive pile. It’s twelve feet tall.

I also included work that manipulates the surface of the architecture. I’ve made these works for a number of years that sort of disrupt the architecture. Like the piece back there with the drip, in Cincinnati I showed for the first time a new technique or a formal way of disrupting the architecture that looks like a drop of water that’s into the wall. So the wall has these ripples as if the whole wall was made out of liquid.

EM: Defying not only the sense of solid matter, but of gravity. Right. Gravity goes this way [motioning horizontally], against the wall.

DA: I also having a large solo exhibition here in New York, in the fall. And I’ve lived here for 15 years. I’ve only shown in Europe and Asia and other places in the U.S. This will be my first real project in New York. It will be in November.

EM: Does it feel like a homecoming?

DA: Yes, most people that I tell are very surprised because people know my work here. It’s just that the main gallery I’ve worked with since 2003 is in Paris, and they have a gallery in Hong Kong. And, I work with a gallery in LA. So, people know my work here, but they’ve only seen it elsewhere.

EM: You’ve ventured into things in which you had no background. Is that your philosophy? Try it out and see what happens?

DA: It has certainly become that. When I was asked to make that first stage design, Merce was telling me, “I want you to do this,” and him saying that he believed I could do it. He gave me the confidence to pursue that. It was definitely a large scale project, the largest I had done up to that point. But, it wasn’t as impossible as it seemed initially.

A lot of other things I’ve worked on, the creation of the films, working with architecture, all of these things, they seem difficult from the outside…and, they are [laughter]. But, often, the things I’ve pursued outside of my own practice are in collaboration with other people. In dance, stage and film, I’ve been able to find people who really know what they’re doing, and they have allowed me to make these things.

EM: Are there any other experiences where you draw your confidence from?

DA: I just did it. I worked hard to study and learn the skills and tools. But, I’ve been very fortunate since I started school, to have all these things line up for me. I had won a grant at the end of school that allowed me to live for that first year. Because things lined up, I went from living off this grant for a year to the start of selling my work. Then I got hired by Merce and worked for him for a number of years, and one thing led to another. Then we built the architecture practice (Snarkitecture), and here we are. …A lot of hard work.

EM: Is there a specific purpose in dividing the films?

DA: The film spans about 500 years in time. Each segment takes place in a different time period. There is a lot of attention to detail in the film in terms of scenography, the costuming and props. I’ve used things that exist, that I’ve already made, to fill out that world. I’ve chosen amazing architectural locations to help fill out that world. So, it made sense to make [each film] as these distinct vignettes.

And, there’s only one character who moves through them. She is in it as a young girl and then as an adult, and then as an entity, or memory. And in practicality, it was much easier to shoot it that way because all the actors and talent are friends and are donating their time. I’m working around their schedules. Having the films made in short bursts is easier than dedicating months to work on it.

EM: Interesting how that shapes the final product

DA: Yes. Film, more than anything, is the most difficult thing I have ever tried to accomplish. If I show work in a gallery or museum I can easily control everything from the light, the way people enter, and obviously what the work looks like. In film, you have to control everything, every last detail. Everything that you place on the screen means something.

For example, the organization of creating or building light. I contend to allow that to be as much of a character as the actual characters are characters. But, trying to organize all those aspects…There’s a scene where the characters are in an airplane cockpit. We built the entire cockpit. Lighting was placed on their faces as if they were moving through clouds. Shadows are cast differently, like they’re moving. That’s amazing. I know that I need that.

"There’s a lot of failure in what I do. I try stuff. It doesn’t work. I just keep going. I’m very adept at moving past things."

EM: That’s living sculpture. You’re working with light, shape/form and time all at once.

DA: It’s similar to dance in some ways. The fourth dimension is time, and film does that in a way, but it’s infinitely more complex because you can watch it over and over again. You can pick things apart.

EM: Are there more films in your future?

DA: Yes. I’m making a push toward the film stuff. I have to complete Future Relic, but there’s a couple of other shorter projects I’ve been working on. I directed a dance film recently that was just 3 minutes. But I’ve been working on Future Relic for two years already, and with another year to go. But, that’s what it takes.

EM: Are you looking toward more traditional narratives?

DA: People often think that if an artist is making a film that it’s going to be some sort of art film with no story or very abstract. There are elements of Future Relic that are like that, but there is a story that is closer to a Hollywood style thing.

EM: When it comes to process and tools that you are using, what has evolved for you? With the 3D art?

DA: Everything is hand made. All of the molds are hand made. The technology, our ability to make very complex forms is growing, we are getting much better at it. There is one mold that 5 years ago I could never have made. It’s a multi part mold that has an interior and exterior. In order to do that, you have to be able to pull the object apart in your mind. It’s like reverse engineering. I had to start with very simple forms to get to that place.

EM: You seem like a very gracious person

DA: I just want to exist in a world that is easy. And, when I say easy I mean that there aren’t people yelling and there’s no stress. There’s issues and things that happen but you just deal with them as they come.

EM: Music?

DA: A lot of hip hop. Looking forward to Rocky’s album. Drake.

EM: Film?

DA: Stanley Kubrick, George Lucas and I really love Chris Nolan. A lot of sci-fi stuff. I saw Ex Machina, which I thought was good. The films that are most successful in depicting the future for me contain aspects of the present. There’s aspects that feel true and real. Like HER. It was a totally believable scenario and environment.

EM: Greatest lessons learned in life?

DA: There’s a lot of failure in what I do. I try stuff. It doesn’t work. I just keep going. I’m very adept at moving past things. It’s very easy to dwell and spend time ruminating over something, but there’s nothing to be done about it. It’s better and more efficient to move.

EM: You manage multiple social media outlets. It’s important to know how to navigate that world today. Where do you see the benefit in all of that?

DA: I see it as an extension of my practice. I make things so that people can see them. I’m not sharing my life, I’m sharing my work. It’s another format for people to see the work. It’s particularly useful for people who don’t live in the big city, or don’t have access to museums and galleries. Every time I show work on [social media], more people will see that image than will walk through the exhibition, by ten times probably. I think that’s the benefit. A lot of people have become familiar with my work through that.

EM: What do you think about during your downtime?

DA: Downtime? Do I have any downtime [laughter]? My work is my life. I don’t distinguish. I’m super happy to come to the studio every day and to travel for things. It’s all one thing.

Daniel Arsham "Fictional Archeology" opens today in Hong Kong and runs until October 11 at Galerie Perrotin Galerie Perrotin Hong Kong.You can watch Arsham's short film Future Relic here. Text, interview and photography by Eric Morales. follow Autre on Instagram: @autremagazine

An Interview of Sue De Beer On Shooting Noir In the Middle East and the Excitement of Unpredictability

September 9, 2015

Sue de Beer paints a lonely, haunting portrait with moving imagery. She is a filmmaker, but she is ultimately an artist in the sense that her short films exist in a sculptural environment that typically inhabits a physical space – usually a gallery – replete with film stills, three dimensional objects and more. Her films are often inspired or influenced by literary works and deal with identity, memory, and paranormal activity. In her film Ghosts, an occult hypnotist recovers lost lengths of time from peoples’ memories and returns them as if they are new memories. In another film, The Quickening, sexuality and desire is explored in an oppressive environment of Puritanical New England in the 18th century. The installations in which De Beer presents her films creates an almost dreamlike environment that leaves the viewer wondering if the time spent within the installation was a dream itself. Premiering tonight at Marianne Boesky Gallery, De Beer will be presenting The Blue Lenses, which is set in Abu Dhabi and tells the tale of a woman given surgery to restore her vision: upon the bandages being removed from her eyes, she sees people with animal heads instead of human heads. It is inspired by British author Daphne du Maurier’s novel of the same name. Indeed, it is the first time the artist has filmed in the Middle East and the entire exhibition has flourishes of an Islamic theme, but with a film noir slant – even the windows of the gallery have been tinted a jewel-toned blue to hint at the power and beauty of Islam. In the following interview, De Beer talks about The Blue Lenses, rescuing Proust from an apartment fire, and trying to explain American puritanism to German electro-clash musicians.

OLIVER KUPPER: I want to talk about your first video piece, Making Out With Myself, because it’s a powerful first foray into your future oeuvre, where did the idea to make out with yourself come from?

SUE DE BEER:I made that piece in 1997 - that's 18 years ago now. Wow. I don’t quite remember why that image came up - possibly I thought it was funny that one could do that as a moving image. Funny and lonely. And intimate. It's still showing, that film. Maybe people relate to the awkwardness of it.

OK: Did you grow up watching a lot of films…was there one particular film that made you want to explore cinema as a medium?

SD: I watched a lot of films in my 20s. The filmmakers I continue to think about are ones that use real people and small budgets - like Paul Morrissey, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Werner Herzog, Abel Ferrara, and Argento. They are all sculptors to me - I think because the budgets are small I can always imagine walking around in the rooms they are shooting in. They have a physical presence. I also like the tension between what's real and what's clearly fake in those films. The bad acting sometimes lends some authenticity to the moment, which is something I think about when I am working.

OK: Literature has also had a profound affect on your work as an artist – anyone from Proust to Maurier to Dennis Cooper – can you remember the first book you ever read and how it made you feel?

SD: I don’t remember the first book I ever read. I first read Proust when a friend of mine had a fire in his apartment, and came to live with me. I went back with him to his flat the morning after it burned - everything was black. We took what few things were left - I remember the selection included a copy of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past, a bottle of cologne, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a camera. He stayed with me for 3 months, then left the book with me after he moved out. I read it cover to cover.

I met Dennis Cooper when I was quite young - I want to say 20. My boyfriend at the time was friends with him, and we would go out to LA and stay with him. So I met him before reading his books which is quite a privilege to be able to say. I found them to be frightening and romantic at the same time. The quiet parts are - theres nothing else quite like them.

OK: You lived in Berlin for a spell, and created three films there, do you think that had an influence on your work or do you think it sent your aesthetic in a new or different direction?

SD: Yes. I miss Berlin. It radically changed the color in my work. I was able to build huge sets there, and was able to assemble skeleton crews easily. It was also nice having some distance on American culture, and making work with that removal. I never could have shot The Quickening in the US for example. Trying to explain Puritans to Gina D’Orio and Annika Trost (the two German electro-clash musicians who played Puritans in my film) made me understand Puritans in a new way. They didn’t like the hats, for example. Gina made me explain Thanksgiving to her.

OK: You are not only creating the films and showing them in theaters – you present them as installations with photographs or film stills, sculptures and more…do you feel like you are doing more justice to these films by presenting them in this way?

SD: Yes.

"I like the idea of the audience picking it apart. But also of an audience just getting lost in this world, and not worrying terribly much what is fictional and what is real."

OK: Your film, The Blue Lenses, which premiers at Marianne Boesky tomorrow night, was your first film shot in the Middle East…what was it like shooting there?

SD: Wonderful.

OK: The installation is also centered around the beauty of Islamic culture…are you subconsciously or consciously trying to paint this world in a different light – a lot of people think of Islam, the Middle East, as a hot bed of terrorism and violence?

SD: I had very little experience with the Middle East before I shot there. I had no idea what to expect, and I purposefully left the shoot open to change - to be changed by the place. I mostly knew images from the news, from Hollywood movies which did not seem accurate, or a little bit of Iranian new wave cinema. I did not want my film to be political or topical. So I shot using this Noir format, which is a western narrative format. A western genre. And I found the images and places when I got there.

So my film has new images in it - I hope. Ones you wouldn’t normally get to see of that place. But it isn’t accurate which I like. Its a fictional world. I like the idea of the audience picking it apart. But also of an audience just getting lost in this world, and not worrying terribly much what is fictional and what is real.

OK: What is the ultimate overarching theme of The Blue Lenses and why it is important in the context of our current zeitgeist?

SD: That's a difficult question. Maybe the ‘theme’ and why it would be relevant now are two different things. The film tries to describe a man who doesn’t want to be describable. I think the older I get the more impossible it seems to me to fully articulate a person or a place. I am starting to enjoy people most when they reveal very little about themselves. I like sitting silently with people and just watching them do things. How they do things. Daniel I thought would change the way he does things on purpose for a time. To be confusing.

Why the Blue Lenses would be important to make now is not the story, which is not a new kind of story, or not the ‘theme’, but maybe its marrying this kind of story to that particular place. Maybe it changes your expectations of the story, and changes your expectations of the place.

OK: Is there anything that you are really excited about right now that’s driving your next project?

SD: The unpredictability of the shoot and how I never knew what to expect is still electrifying to me. I would like my next project to have more of that.

Sue De Beer: The Blue Lenses opens tonight and runs until October 25, 2015 at Marianne Boesky Gallery. Necessary reading: Sue De Beer's comprehensive 2005 monograph. Hans Un Grete is a rare out-of-print document of De Beer's 2002 short film about school shooters. Companion reading: The Complete Box Set of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past. Food for thought: T he Blue Lenses and Other Stories by Daphne du Maurier. Must Watch: The Bitter Tears of Petra Von Kant by Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Text by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow Autre on Instagram: @autremagazine

A Fatal Personality: An Interview With Brian Kokoska On Knives and Poison IV

September 7, 2015

Brian Kokoska, who can often be found with a knife clutched between his teeth or with a devious, wide-grinned smile, is one of our favorite artists working today. His paintings almost look like they belong to the hand of a child in art class working out some kind of trauma caused by alien abduction, but when you look closer, there is unexplainable magic going on. Perhaps Kokoska’s paintings are mirrored reflections of our own demons, or the artist’s – who really knows or cares – but what you will find amongst his crude oil painted visages is a sense of primordial familiarity. Maybe these creatures are our friends, or maybe they are out to kill us. What’s most interesting is the way the artist presents the work – it is never in the typical brightly lit gallery with white walls. Quite the contrary. What he does is create a totally immersive environment that is bathed with a single monochromatic hue – the walls, the carpet, the paintings, the sculptural props and found assemblage (like stuffed animals or toy cobra snakes), and, of course, knives – all one color. In one exhibition, it was a Pepto-Bismol pink, in another it was bug zapper blue, and in another it was a shade of codeine cough syrup, or purple drank. For his new solo exhibition at Valentin gallery, entitled Poison IV, the New York based artist creates a bath of swampy pale green where his evocative countenances interplay with knives and mannequin torsos that clutch green stuffed animals. It’s a complete ‘fuck you’ to the senses. Autre got a chance to catch up with Kokoska before the opening of his exhibition to talk about knives, his inspirations, sex, violence and his current must see show in Paris.

OLIVER KUPPER: Let’s start off with talking about the faces that appear in your paintings...how would you describe these faces, creatures…do you imagine them in your head or nightmares before you paint them?

BRIAN KOKOSKA: They are basically just from my imagination and I guess from my own life experiences. When I begin a painting there is no real clear vision for how it will turn out. So sometimes they go through multiple phases and different layers of faces and symbols are painted over and over until something new happens and then I leave the painting alone.

OK: There’s a clear evolution in your work from more detailed work to more symbolic, representational work…how would you describe this evolution?

BK: I think it's just natural for ideas to shift and to find different ways of expressing that through the work. For example, I get sick of things really easily so I try to challenge myself by bringing in new elements, particularly sculpture and installation. The paintings are something I'm passionate about but I don't see them as the key element in my work. They are only 1 factor.

OK: Who were some artists that influenced you or inspired you to be an artist?

BK: Early in school I was looking at a lot of German artists; Albert Oehlen, Jutta Koether, Isa Genzken, Kai Althoff...and then I started getting into American artists who I could relate to even a little better, like Mike Kelley, Paul McCarthy, Cindy Sherman. I've always been drawn to nasty, raw, harsh work that is still totally genuine. Because I think there's too much fake shit right now (or always?).

OK: I want to bring up your fascination with knives…you have a lot of selfies posing with some scary knives…where does this fascination come from?

BK: Yeah, I just love knives. Aesthetically I think they are so beautiful. And I love how they can be so gentle and seductive yet also super violent and fatal. I collect rare knives but probably in the pics you are referencing I'm sourcing them for sculptures most of the time.

Even when I was a child I remember loving knives. Slasher films. And my uncles used to give me the coolest dagger-rings.. like Hells Angels shit.

Here in Paris we just went to this beautiful old knife shop called E.Dehillerin and the knife maker got concerned for my safety after he saw how into the knives I was. He kept explaining how like "this one's for meat, this one's for fish...". It was nice.

OK: You have started to do really comprehensive installations with your exhibition, choosing a single monochrome color, your last exhibition was Pepto-Bismol pink and your upcoming exhibition is sort of swamp green…can you describe your process of choosing a specific color?

BK: I get obsessed with particular colors and then it becomes this restriction in my head that I find nice to work with. Like, putting together a show in shades of one color (or perhaps a second color, black), it feels very rewarding in some weird way. It is similar to stage design or something.. where I would imagine you get a strange thrill of creating an environment that can psychologically affect an audience.

"...I have a fatal personality so I think sex and violence are probably heightened in my work because of that."

OK: Let’s talk about your current exhibition…the title is Poison IV…what is the concept behind this show?

BK: I had been doing a series of shows like you just mentioned in shades of one color. I was using mostly baby-colors...pale muted versions of colors that I like. So it went from baby blue to baby purple to baby pink and now baby/swampy green. For this show it will be my first solo version; in the past I've always asked another artist (Debo Eilers, Zack Davis, Chloe Seibert) to join my installation.

Poison IV will be my last iteration of the baby-color thing. I'm excited about this show because I've had the chance to make more sculptural works to go alongside the paintings.

OK: Symbols are a big part of your practice…where does this sense of ritual or symbolism come from…your paintings seem like they belong to a strange cult or religion?

BK: I tend to use whatever symbols are stuck in my head. Like, I'll keep seeing reoccurring numbers or symbols, so then when I get to work they'll just appear because it's what I'm thinking about. They usually build up in gestures to form the "face" paintings. A lot of the imagery is sentimental to me and comes from childhood experiences or memories. But I also borrow a ton of visual language from things I collect.

OK: This is your first solo show in Paris…are you going to do anything fun besides your exhibition while you are out there…are you more of a tourist or do you like to blend in?

BK: Mostly just been slaving on the show so far. I love Paris though, it's so romantic. I wander the streets and it's like I'm in a movie or something. Everybody just hanging out with baguettes. I like the pace here…nobody is really faking it...they're just enjoying life. I think that's really important, ya know?

OK: There is a distinct sense of sex and violence in your work…where do you think these themes come from?

BK: Ha ha.. Probably from my own life I guess, and from past experiences. I'm a scorpio and I have a fatal personality so I think sex and violence are probably heightened in my work because of that.

OK: What’s next?

BK: Party in France. Gonna check out Venice quickly then back to New York. I'm gonna be working on a solo for LOYAL in Stockholm which opens mid November. Before that I'm making a baby sculpture in collaboration with DIS Magazine for their new issue DIStaste.

Brian Kokoska: Poison IV will be on view until October 10, 2015 at Valentin gallery in Paris. Photographs by Sylvie Chan-Liat, courtesy of Valentin and the artist. Text and interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Hope and Fear: An Interview With Artist Will Ryman On His Upcoming Solo Show

September 4, 2015

Will Ryman is a brilliant puppeteer and manipulator of materials to expose innate contradictions in history, commerce and power. It started with a gilded reinterpretation of Abraham Lincoln’s childhood cabin and took even more shape when he crafted a true-to-size 1958 Cadillac and coated the entire thing in Bounty paper towels. It’s simple distillation and refinery, and Ryman is the centrifuge forcing the base materials to the surface – the resultant work connotes a singular layer of blatant truth. His upcoming exhibition at Paul Kasmin gallery, Two Rooms, is an even more advanced exploration of this distillation and stripping down. There are two installations. One is a life-size sculpture – entitled The Situation Room – that is based on the iconic photograph of the Obama administration watching in real time the Navy SEAL raid on Osama Bin Laden in Pakistan in 201l. The twist: the entire sculpture is crafted out of crushed black coal. In a contemplation of “war, power, propaganda, industrialization, and political theater,” the sculpture seems to also bring to light our ulterior motivations in the Middle East, the plundering of natural resources, and the blood spilt to acquire such dubious ends. Another installation, entitled Classroom, features 12 students at their desk chairs – each of the twelve sculptures is made out of a different material: cadmium, titanium, salt, iron, oil, chrome, copper, wood, and gold – are we all reduced to simple commodification?

Will Ryman wasn’t always an artist. He wanted to become a playwright. Perhaps it was a rebellion from his painter parents – his father is famed minimalist painter, Robert Ryman. After twelve years, though, Ryman realized that the characters in his play couldn’t come to life like his future sculptures and installations could. Art seemed the perfect medium to explore the themes he was interested in.

We got a chance to catch up with Ryman over the phone from New York. We had an enlightening chat about materials, crude oil, his sculptural installations and we ask whether he is hopeful or fearful about the future ahead.

Oliver Kupper: Growing up with parents who were artists, did you always know you wanted to become an artist?

Will Ryman: No, I didn’t. Initially, after high school, I wanted to be a writer. I tried to launch a career in writing. I wrote plays and screenplays. Slowly, I started to sculpt the characters in my plays. That’s how I started to become involved in installations and sculptures.

OK: You were a playwright for twelve years. That’s a long stretch of a career. What themes were you working with as a playwright? Were you more successful as an artist in interpreting those themes?

WR: As a playwright, I was interested in writers like Beckett and Ionesco. I was interested in plays that had to do with approaching our culture from a cathartic and absurd place. I’ve always been interested in how things got to be how they are in our culture—whether it’s internal psychology or external social relations. That’s what I wanted my plays to be about. They were very abstract. It was very difficult for me to get anything produced. A lot of people didn’t understand them. They weren’t traditional in a structural or commercial way. At the time, people were looking for the Reservoir Dogs style. They were looking for the next Seinfeld. My work was nothing like that. I was frustrated; I started questioning myself a lot. I was also a very young man, so I had a lot of uncertainty about everything. I became blocked. What I was interested in, what was in my true nature was not working out. I tried to make my characters 3-dimensional to see what that would do. I started to work with materials, and I became interested in the same subjects that I’m interested in now.

OK: What are those subjects, specifically?

WR: Like I said, I’m really interested in how the world got to be the way it is today. That’s a huge topic. Within that, I’m interested in external issues like how the system—mass production, capitalism, technology, social issues—how that evolved to the way it is today. My work is about retracing that and exploring what’s underneath all that through natural resource materials.

OK: The materials you choose for your work have a very political charge. When you source these materials, do you run into ethical paradoxes that validate the very statements you’re trying to make?

WR: Yeah, a little bit. A lot of my work is about studying materials. Most of the work is done before I’ve made the art—in research, in testing the materials to see what they do. Sourcing them isn’t usually an issue. I got some crude oil from Texas, which was pretty strong stuff. It’s very toxic and very difficult to work with. It brings the reality right in front of me as to what these materials are capable of and what they’re used for. It definitely makes me think a lot more. It piques my interest about the uses of these materials—titanium, dust, silicon.

OK: It must get pretty dangerous to work with these materials, especially [crude] oil. What kind of environment do you have to be in to work with these materials?

WR: When I got the [crude] oil, I didn’t want to use it much. I would be uncomfortable working with it. We used very small amounts of it. We put it in resins to help try to tint them and give them the look that I want to reference crude oil. When I use the coal, we have to wear respirators.

OK: It seems like a lot of the products we use today are made by some kind of crude oil.

WR: That’s what is interesting for me. When you strip everything down, it comes down to these elements on the periodic table. Without that, our life wouldn’t be where it is today.

OK: I want to talk about the Cadillac made from paper towels. It was made shortly before GM recalled ten million of their cars. It brought attention to their negligence and cover-up of it. It’s the same with a lot of car manufacturers. Did you feel this recall was a confirmation of what you were saying? Were you surprised?

WR: I was exploring the Cadillac as an American symbol of power. But power is fragile. I took two commercial symbols. The paper towel is disposable, mass-produced, and convenient. The Cadillac is the symbol of American power from the industrial revolution. Combining the two, I was playing with appropriating these symbols of commercialism and power. What happened with GM is certainly related to what I’m exploring, with this piece especially. Negligence stems from mass production that stems from a system that relies on the speed of consumption. Things are made in negligence and silence, all to make profit. That’s what it seems like. I’m trying to make sense of all this for myself.

"I’m not trying to take a stance on it or have a really strong activist message. I’m coming from more of a fearful place. I do these things because I have a lot of fear."

OK: It’s a complex time. It’s hard to ask questions in a way that makes sense, because it seems like nothing makes sense.

WR: When it does seem like it makes sense, it seems too simple. There’s got to be more to it, but often there’s not. When you’re playing with materials, you see the significance of the materials.

OK: The Situation Room, which is going to be a piece in your next show, is a good example of that. Why did you choose to use coal?

WR: First, I wanted to take away all the colors and emotions from that photograph. I wanted to take away any kind of nationalism and romanticism that was there. I wanted to use a monochromatic material that was also a resource. Oil would be an obvious choice, but coal was more interesting to me. The interesting thing about that piece to me is the situation itself, not the event. It’s not about Osama Bin Laden or 9/11. It’s about a much bigger situation that repeats itself throughout history. Coal is referencing that, as well as redaction. If I saw the Situation Room, and it was covered in crude oil, that’s too direct and obvious. I would walk away. I would think that I saw something that looked cool, but was something I already knew about. With coal, I walk away thinking about a lot of different things. I think about history. I think about Pompeii. I think about archaeology. I think about energy, power, and expansion during the industrial revolution. I think about when American interest became very aggressive with the Middle East, which was around the time of the industrial revolution. I think about oil replacing coal as an energy source. I think the arc of this. 9/11 and the incident itself on Bin Laden’s compound was just one letter in the entire alphabet.

OK: From a historical sense, it’s such a fresh moment in history that we glance over that photograph as iconic. There are so many of these iconic, photojournalistic moments in history that have come up in major magazines that have now solidified major political conflicts. If you were in a different time, could you think of one photograph that would influence you to make a sculpture?

WR: There are probably many. I’m not really sure. There are many photographs that make me think about things. What I found interesting about this particular photograph was the relationship between propaganda and what’s underneath all that. A lot of these photographs operate that way. The Vietnam War was photographed a lot and on television a lot, which is why people were so aware of it back in the States. Without photographs and television, no one would have known. The Gulf War was the first war that was live. It was like a video game.

OK: I remember that—night vision images of bombs exploding.

WR: Television created a reality. Shortly after that, reality television became the number one media. There are similarities in all these relationships. That’s what interests me. When you see the Situation Room sculpture in person, I tried to make it as exact and as honest I could in relation to the photograph. When you see it—I didn’t do anything to it other than making it 3-dimensional and out of new material—I took everything else away. You see the difference. You can feel the intensity. It makes you think. Why was the photograph released? Why was everybody looking at that?

OK: Another big theme that you work with is human commodification, which is a big deal right now. Terms like “human resources” are thrown around when they should not be applied to humans in a working setting. How extreme do you feel this thread is? Do you feel we are approaching a society fueled by Soylent Green?

WR: I’m not trying to take a stance on it or have a really strong activist message. I’m coming from more of a fearful place. I do these things because I have a lot of fear. What helps me along and make sense of everything is to retrace it. Ultimately, what helps is to work with these materials and make these installations.

[In Classroom] One figure is sculpted, cast, and molded twelve times; there are twelve identical figures. Each one is made from a different material. They’re all natural resources, like salt, wood, chrome, titanium, gold leaf, and copper leaf. They’re all materials that have been essential—and are essential—in building our economy, retail, technology, military, and energy. All of those elements are in this piece. They’re the same figure, but because each is made from a different material, they have different characterizations, identities, and personalities. They all look different, which is interesting, because they’re all the same. We’re all the same, but we experience each other. The differences in each piece are purely from the materials. Some of them look Asian, some white, some African. The material has washed away some of the features. I really think that’s interesting and telling.

That’s a sign of mass production. I was thinking about that when I was working on them. I arranged the child-like figures into a grid that was reminiscent of an assembly line or military formation. The idea is that human beings can be mass-produced. They are just as much a resource as titanium or silicon. That’s interesting and disturbing. It’s part of the paradigm of the system that we live in. I don’t know if it’s bad for the majority of people. It’s great for a small amount of people. It’s what we live in the United States. That’s why I want to figure it out.

Also, robots are replacing humans. You see pictures of car factories—robots are building all of these cars now.

OK: Should we be fearful, or should we be hopeful for the future?

WR: I don’t know. I’m coming from an honest and accepting place. I think I’m hopeful, especially when I do this kind of work. It makes me hopeful. I feel like I understand things better. It’s such a complex, complicated machine.

Will Ryman's Two Rooms opens on September 10 and runs until October 17, 2015 at at Paul Kasmin Gallery, 515 W. 27th Street. Profile photograph by Dan Bradica. Text and interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow Autre on Instagram to stay up to date: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Yes All Women: An Interview With Photographer, Artist and Social Activist Jessie Askinazi

August 20, 2015

Jessie Askinazi is one of those rare connectors that seems to know or work with everybody - and not just in the art world. Art, fashion, politics, social justice – she’s there. Visit her Tumblr diary and you’ll see excerpts from fashion spreads she has featured on Autre, portraits of comedians, actors and musicians, and nightlife snapshots in black and white. Her photography is real, raw and it tells stories – it’s the opposite of vapid, which seems to sum up perfectly who Askinazi is as a person. She is also the founder, organizer and curator of the #YESALLWOMEN fundraiser, which is hosting a silent auction and exhibition featuring some of the most exciting women championing women’s rights, like Kim Gordon, Barbara Kruger, Rose McGowan, Mira Dancy and many more. Proceeds from the exhibition will be donated to the East Los Angeles Women’s Center, which aids survivors of sexual assault and domestic abuse. The exhibition will be on view at Dilettante on Saturday, September 19 for one night only. There is also a Go Fund Me page raising the capital to support the project and the exhibition. In the following conversation, Jessie Askinazi opens up about her bouts with depression, the importance of standing up for people that need it and her exciting #YESALLWOMEN campaign.

OLIVER KUPPER: Where are you from originally?

JESSIE ASKINAZI: I was born in Levittown, New York, and then my family relocated to South Florida, where I lived until I moved to NYC after high school. I was watching an episode of Seinfeld last night where Jerry said, "New York, Long Island, Florida... It's like the Bermuda Triangle. Unfortunately, nobody ever disappears."

OK: You work in a variety of mediums and industries, from arts to politics, where do you feel most comfortable?

JA: Well, my involvement in the arts and activism come from a similar place of necessary vocalization. I am compelled to do these things. I've always had a kind of fire under my ass, if you will, to expose corruption and help those who - while they have voices - are stifled. Even when I was in elementary school, I assembled a group of friends to have a lemonade stand for an organization called Kids in Distress, which is an organization that cares for abused children. I can't exist without creativity in various disciplines of the arts, or without attempting to influence social change. I don't really get the point of being alive if you're not going to use your own experience to make life better for others in some way. Ego and self-furthering is boring.

OK: What do you think motivated you to be so active in the different worlds that you exist in - is there one specific instance or a series of instances?

JA: It's hard to pinpoint exactly how these journeys originated. I have been through a lot and have been exposed to a lot. I was often very sick as a child and later on suffered from major depression, and so because of many periods of debilitation, I was forced to create my own world outside of our standard. I stayed home from school a lot and was kind of a recluse, so that led me to exploring and archiving as an escape. I wanted to be a soldier for those who couldn't do it alone. I think there is a lot of shame around the idea of needing other people, but we do - we were made to be communal creatures and in this day and age we are so isolated. There's a lot that I've experienced personally which I'm sure has contributed to this sort of lifestyle - I don't know any other way to be.

OK: You are a very talented photographer and you tell great stories with a camera - who were some of your photographic or artistic inspirations?

JA: Thank you so much! I have so many influences and they constantly change. I would say Surrealism, Italian Giallo horror films, art house movies, documentaries, lo-fi video, lost Americana, 60s mod fashion photography in Harper's Bazaar, 80s post-punk (and the teenage rebel movies from those years), retro futurism, psychedelia, the occult, mysticism, and vampy silent film have been a constant. And The Rudi Gernreich book, Guy Bourdin, Francesca Woodman, Barbara Kruger (floored that she is donating work to my show), Ralph Eugene Meatyard, Craig McDean, David Hamilton, Diane Arbus, Melvin Sokolsky, Eugenio Recuenco, Claude Cahun, Wim Wenders, Mick Rock, Tim Walker, etc. But mostly the weirdos in my own life inspire me to take pictures. Ha.

OK: You usually shoot on analog film, right - what cameras do you use?

JA: I do try to shoot analog as much as possible because the texture of film photography is something that can't be replaced. I almost always use my Nikon N65, although in the past I also used the Lomo LC-A a ton. When I shoot art events, that's when I use my digital camera, because film is just not practical in those instances.

OK: What is your favorite thing about working around and with such creative people?

JA: How my perspective is constantly expanding which in turn makes me really able to see the world, and at the same time there is such a deep understanding between artists. Again, the reality of our corporate-commercial conglomerate was always foreign to me. So the creative people around me have been some kind of siblings.

"I don't really get the point of being alive if you're not going to use your own experience to make life better for others in some way. Ego and self-furthering is boring."

OK: Okay, let's cut to the chase, what brought you to start #YesAllWomen?

JA: It's all been building up to this. Every day. The comments I receive, the way I've been objectified by men since I was extremely young. The way men have pretended to care about my humanity for their own gain. Being expected to be quiet or polite or passive. Every day. Television, movies, social media, the news, video games, contemporary art, the film industry, magazines. Every day. Advertising, marketing, consumerism, the dumbing down, the ignorance, indifference, bullying, violence, fear, misogyny, regulation, inequality. Every day. The Kardashians being an ideal, being worshiped. What we're expected to be, what we're expected to do, what we're expected to say. Every day.

OK: There definitely needs to be more female creativity in the world...What is your advice to young women who feel stuck, repressed or held back from their true passions?

JA: I actually think the phrasing of this sentence is wrong. Female creativity is everywhere. Practically every woman I know is a brilliant artist or thinker. Women are often creative heroes because we have such rich emotional lives and possess a regal strength. In Peter Pan, The Lost Boys are "boys who fall out of their prams when the nurse is looking the other way and if they are not claimed in seven days, they are sent far away to Never Land". There are no "lost girls" because as Peter explains, "girls are far too clever to fall out of their prams." It's just our society that is repressive, and it's the system that keeps the male in the spotlight (the patriarchy, as it goes.) It's all to service the man. Even our laws.

So my advice to all women (not just the young) who feel stuck on the road they are traveling, is to speed up. Go all in. Make a decision and follow through, despite what challenges you think lie ahead of you. That's what I'm doing - I'm not letting the vampires suck the life out of me. I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time, but luckily the people in my life are fantastic colleagues and friends, and we work together to achieve our goals. A year ago, I never would have guessed that I'd be curating a show with some of my greatest heroes. But what I constantly remind myself is, "If you don't ask, the answer is always no."

OK: What do you think is the greatest challenge facing women in today's time?

JA: I guess the fact that questions like this one have to be asked. That we are considered "other." We are the ones who create life, yet ours are always persecuted. There really isn't just one challenge, that's why I wanted to spotlight #YesAllWomen (because it covers the broad, various factors of this big picture - and is an ongoing conversation). Also, different challenges present themselves to different cultures, which is something that needs more awareness. Child marriage affects the Middle East and Africa, for example. Women of color often have an added layer of oppression that white women will never experience. For me, personally, I'm sick of being so obsessed with what my face and body look like, as if that is all that defines or validates me.

OK: How can people be a part of the #YesAllWomen campaign?

JA: In this case, you can make a donation to our fundraiser at: http://www.gofundme.com/elawc. We are trying to raise money to cover the hard costs of this large production, and we also hope to raise additional money for the East Los Angeles Women's Center, the organization that we are benefiting; they help survivors of sexual assault and domestic abuse. Beyond that, keep sharing art that is reflective of the female experience, keep telling your stories that have so much weight. The only way for there to be real and actual change is by having the conversation, first and foremost.

OK: There is a one night only event supporting the campaign where people can purchase art, but what happens after the event?

JA: Actually, the one night only event at Dilettante is where the artwork will be exhibited and where there will be a series of performances and entertainment, hosted by Rose McGowan. The artwork will be available through online auction, via the website Paddle8, so anyone can bid and purchase the artwork which goes toward the charity. The auction will go live around two weeks before the actual event. Those details will be posted on the project's website soon: I am hoping that this will become an annual project, with different contemporary female voices benefiting different organizations for women.

OK: What's next for you - anything exciting that you want to share?

JA: I have some photo series in mind, and one of the artists in our show, Snovit Hedstierna and I want to collaborate on a project together. I'm really excited to work with her one on one - her passion is a rocket. She has such a rare enthusiasm.

The #YESALLWOMEN art auction and fundraiser will be on view for one night only on September 19th, 2015 at Dilettante, 120 N. Santa Fe, Los Angeles, CA. You can visit the Go Fund Me campaign here to make a donation. You can also use the #YESALLWOMEN hashtag to join the global cause. text and interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper

Just A Gut Feeling: An Interview With interdisciplinary Artist Eric Parren

July 31, 2015

Eric Parren on the swell of a new wave of artists that are borrowing from the forces of science to create major artistic statements. Parren, an interdisciplinary artist who lives and works in Los Angeles, combines facets of art, science, technology and investigates the human connection with deeply complex notions about the technologies that shape our future – often without our knowing – such as artificial intelligence, synthetic biology, and space exploration. The works are often deeply sensory experiences dealing with modes of perception and the physics of light and sound. For instance, Parren has genetically manipulated the e. coli bacteria, which are naturally occurring in the intestine, to light up red, green and cyan – he then filmed them with a time-lapse laser-scanning confocal microscope. With the visuals of dancing bacteria, like microscopic ballerinas, he played an algorithmically composed composition based on the biosynthetic pathways of the e. coli’s genome. The project, entitled Gut Feeling, was presented as an audiovisual performance to an audience and as an installation. Parren has also created The Synesthesia Glasses, which allows the wearer to experience what it would be like to have synesthesia, a condition where the person can see sounds. Indeed, through close study of the histories of media arts, composition, and film, Eric’s work makes connections between the past, the present, and what is to come. Parren is also a member of the art collective Macular, which includes a number of artists within the same technologically and scientifically advanced artistic milieu. In the following interview, Parren talks about his unique interdisciplinary practice, genetically manipulating e. coli bacteria for the sake of art and how rave culture influenced his trajectory as an artist.

Joe McKee: Tell me about your practice.

Eric Parren: My practice is a little all over the place, but sound and music is definitely a part of it.

JM: It was really exciting to stumble upon your work. You’re doing something with academically-inclined ideas, but it’s fun and engaging.

EP: In my work, I put myself in this triangle of art, science, and technology. That’s where the future is happening. We need all these things to go forward. I want to go towards the future. But an important thing with music and with art is that they are experiential. There’s an academic background, and there’s research behind it. But the work in itself has to be something that you can experience. You don’t have to read ten pages of explanation before you understand what’s going on. For me, it’s a sensory thing. Sensory experience of art and music is the most important way of experiencing it. The thought processes of that are another layer. Initially, I want to give people a direct, sensory experience.

JM: Sometimes art can be so alienating. It’s nice to invite people in and create something immersive for them.

EP: The most recent project that I’ve done was in the same show with William Basinski at the Pasadena Art & Science Festival. It was organized by the Pasadena Arts Council - some of the members part of an organization called Volume. They are an organization that brings sound artists here to do performances. So, they got these people from Europe who have been working on this project called Sphaerae. It’s three big domes that are inflated to this 1960s style experiential thing that you can go in. Projections were set up to project all over the ceiling. There was an amazing sound system. The project I did there is called “Gut Feeling.”

JM: Yeah, can you talk a little more about Gut Feeling?

EP: It’s research that I did at UCLA—the California Nanosystems Institute. They have all these crazy microscopes—things that can see the size of an atom. I got interested in these devices that could extend our senses. I asked him if I could work in the lab and use the microscopes. They didn’t give me the most expensive, craziest microscope, but he did give me an interesting microscope—a laser-scanning confocal microscope. It doesn’t look at things for what they are, but it shoots lasers at the sample. Whatever fluorescence is the image. At first, I was just learning how the thing worked, just putting different things under it. The microscope is used a lot in biosciences, so I met this synthetic biologist. She helped me get my hands on genetically-modified E coli bacteria that have this specific gene in them so they light up when you shoot a laser at them. I used (maybe abused) those in the microscope, and took all these time-lapse images with them. I did all kinds of crazy experiments with them. The original idea was to make a film with them, but now I’ve been using the visuals in live performances. The sound part of it is a synthesizer that looks at the biological processes inside the E coli bacteria, and turns those into micro-sound elements. It’s a songification of the processes.

JM: Can you tell me about Macular?

EP: Macular is this artist collective that I started with a friend of mine in Holland in 2009. It started as a live cinema group. Live cinema is a big thing in Holland—the idea is that live visuals are generated with live sound. It’s not some musician and some video guy; it’s people who are doing those things at the same time. You’re working together to create a whole. We started out in super-analog stuff. We were hacking online analog/video processors—color correctors, that kind of stuff. And then, we plugged the video into the audio mixer. You get these amazing sounds. Over time, it grew into a super-complicated setup in which digital and analog were feedbacking on each other. We had created a monster that was just alive, doing its own thing. If you tweaked one knob, all this stuff would happen. We started working together on other projects also. We started doing installations. The focus of Macular had always been synesthesia—how to induce artificial synesthesia in people. We’re evolving the organization of Macular into more of a label, a research institute, and a studio. We’re interested in natural and emergent processes, and synesthesia.

"I always got in big fights with the professor about what sculpture was. But I always wanted to do audio-visual stuff. It might come from raves. I’ve been going to those since I was fifteen. A rave is an audio-visual experience. I always want to translate that into a different setting."

JM: When you say natural processes, what do you mean by that?

EP: Emergence is something that everyone in Macular has worked with at one point. Emergence is the idea that simple, individual rules can lead to unexpected, big patterns. The classic example is a school of fish. Every fish is his own fish, but is also trying to follow the other fish. You get these beautiful patterns of fish swirling around. We’re playing that into installations, sound work. We’re trying to set up an online repository in which we have this research to share with each other and the world. We’re also trying to set up a label so we can produce our own work, then a studio so we can work.

JM: How did you find yourself at this point, creatively? Did you come from a musical background or a visual background? Was it a science background?

EP: I wish I had a science background. What I’ve learned is how to learn. If you understand how to learn, you don’t have to go to school. The information is there. You can teach yourself. I come from media-arts background. In Holland, after high school, you don’t go to college. You immediately decide what you’re going to study. I went to art school—doing painting, sculpture, all that. I always got in big fights with the professor about what sculpture was. But I always wanted to do audio-visual stuff. It might come from raves. I’ve been going to those since I was fifteen. A rave is an audio-visual experience. I always want to translate that into a different setting.

JM: In the academic world and art world, sound art is still trying to find its way in.

EP: There are certain places that understand that better. Santa Barbara has a Media Arts and Technology program that has a very clear understanding of sound. Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy has an amazing experimental media performing arts center. They’ve built this whole temple for performance, music, and sound. It’s an interesting problem—how to get sound art integrated.

JM: Perhaps it shouldn’t be. In which case, we have to find a model to allow people to experience it.

EP: Performance art also has a really hard time. There’s an audience; there are people interested in it, but it’s hard to integrate.

JM: Also, performance art is such a temporal thing. Sound art can suffer from the same thing. Not that they have to be temporary.

EP: It’s time-based. It’s loud.

JM: It creates this noise pollution.

EP: But that’s still a part that I love about it. For me, interacting with an artwork, something that I’ve taught myself to do is force myself to spend ten, fifteen minutes with the work. You get so much more out of it. With sound stuff, it automatically is temporal. You get that engagement already with the work. You can’t interact with a sound piece for two seconds, or however people long people look at a painting. It requires patience and engagement. That interests me about the artwork itself. It actively asks the audience to spend more time with the work.

You can learn more about Eric Parren by visiting his website. You can also follow him on Twitter to stay up to date with performances and exhibitions. Watch below video of "Gut Feeling." Interview by Joe McKee. Text by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

The Sacred and The Profane: An Interview With Legendary Actionist Hermann Nitsch

July 24, 2015

Herman Nitsch is considered the last of the great ‘Actionists.’ Together with fellow Austrian artists Günter Brus, Otto Mühl, Rudolf Schwarzkogler, he developed what would become one of the most violent and “depraved” artistic movements of the 20th century. In reaction to a complacent post-war society, Nitsch aimed for realism…shocking, brutal realism, which he insists is only a mirror to man’s own innate brutality and thirst for violence and defilement. His performances, which are held under the title of The Orgies Mysteries Theater, were so shocking and real, that he has been arrested multiple times and even exiled from his own country. His action performances, or “aktionens,” vary in length – sometimes they last several days – but they always convey a sense of pagan ritual, replete with human and animal sacrifices, copulation, blood drinking and bloodletting, disembowelment, intestines spilling from carcasses, dance, music, and audience participation. In one filmed performance, held in Germany in 1970, you can find Nitsch disemboweling a goat, removing the intestines, forcing participants to drink the blood, placing a female participant on a crucifix and then inserting his penis into her vagina through the entrails. In 1972, he acquired the Prinzendorf Castle – ironically from the Catholic Church. To this day, he lives and works there and performs his orgiastic ‘actions’ there. Currently, he is having a major retrospective, of sorts, in Palermo, Italy at the ZAC (Zisa Contemporary Art) Spaces, which is housed in a former industrial space that used to make furniture and airplanes. The show, which is a re-envisioning of his canceled retrospective in Mexico City, will include 40 canvases, numerous photos, as well as videos documenting some of Nitsch’s most important actions over the past few decades. A multi-floor “Pharmacy” filled with fetish objects will also be on view. Like many of his exhibitions, there is a petition to have it shut down. As of writing this, the petition has close to 70,000 supporters – with only 5,000 more signatures to go. We’ll see who has the last word – the exhibition has already been on view for a few weeks. Autre was fortunate enough to have a chat with Hermann Nitsch from his studio in Vienna – our conversation ranged from development of The Orgy Mystery Theater, how the artist embraces his work in the face of possible jail time, the success of his current show in Palermo and what he likes to do for fun.

Oliver Kupper: You say that actionism wasn’t a group, but what do you think was in the atmosphere that motivated you and other artists associated with the movement to create the work they started to create?

Hermann Nitsch: The question of the development of art is also a question of society. In Vienna, it was very conservative. We wanted to make a new art—new expressions of art—in an art world that was, for us, traditional. Abstract expressionism was happening, a new form of art that was very important for us. I would say that’s what moved us together.

OK: Can you talk a little bit about the beginnings of The Orgies Mysteries Theatre ?

HN: I have been asked for thirty, forty years about the development of my theater, and I’m still not able to explain this. It involved the whole art of painting, of abstract expressionism. Traditional theater began with the Greek Tragedy. In ’58, I tried to make a theatre where I used reality. For me, I wanted to make, in my theatre, only real happenings. For me, it was important to allow people to smell, to taste, to touch, to look, and to hear reality. I come to show reality. I want to celebrate reality. And what was really new was that I used the very concept of reality.

OK: In terms of reality, the movement was very closely associated with extreme violence. Was this a reflection of anything specific?

HN: Look at the world. Look how much violence you have. I wanted to show with my theater everything, and I want to show trueness. I always say, I want to show birth, death, reality—in every direction. I want to show everything.

OK: Art is a medium for that. It is incredibly important, right?

HN: Art is celebration of being. Art is a special kind of life. What kind of life is making lukewarm art? I will not make lukewarm art. I want to make anything art. I want to make art, which is so important—like the stars, the sun systems. I want to make art, which is so important, like being.

"Art is a special kind of life. What kind of life is making lukewarm art? I will not make lukewarm art. I want to make anything art. I want to make art, which is so important—like the stars, the sun systems. I want to make art, which is so important, like being."

OK: You spent time in jail for what you do, in terms of actionist events. Does this fear of being reprimanded ever affect your work? Does it ever censor you?

HN: No. They jail me, I come again. I embrace it. If it is so, it is so. It’s not so bad in prison. I was in good thought, I was alone, I could work. It’s not too bad. A “normal” society is sometimes much more bad. They must go for holidays. They must go to a tea spot. They must do these things. That’s worse than to be in prison.

OK: What do you think have been the strangest or most shocking reactions to your work?

HN: I had problems with animal rights activists. I like, so much, animals. A celebration the body of the animal is a celebration of nature. We, in our house, we have many, many animals. We like animals, like people like having kids. I love the animals like my children. They sleep with me, they speak with me. I would never kill them in a way that would make pain. This makes me very sad. The animal protectors, they don’t see. The industrial animal farming is very sad. In the past, an animal never had so much pain. Why are they not against this? They are against poor, stupid Nitsch.

OK: In the United States, especially. Is this why you haven’t performed a real actionist event in the United States?

HN: I have done many, many performances in the United States. The first time in 1968, and the last time two years ago in a gallery in New York. I had success in New York. I did a big performance in 1968 at the University of Cincinnati. They really wanted to have a performance from me. The students, they were elated that we could do the performance. Two days later, when I went to a concert at the Fox, the whole theater clapped for me. Mostly, I was happy to be in the United States. I had success with my work in New York, in different universities. I loved going back; it made me very happy. My work spoke to people, especially to young people. They are thinking like I am.

OK: Right now, there’s a petition to shut down your show in Italy, like they did in Mexico. What do you say to these people specifically? How would you convince them to not be so afraid?

HN: I hear so much about the political background. It was not so much to do with animal protectors. Mexico was a completely different situation from Palermo. In Mexico, it was a private-owned and funded museum. The owner decided not to have his exhibition. Nevertheless, he kept active what he promised. So he invited me to come to Mexico to perform a concert. It was performed in a public space, and it had lots of visitors. He just decided, “I don’t want to show the art in my museum.” This was a very personal, private decision that cannot be related with what happened in Palermo. Maybe you saw the petition against the exhibition in Palermo. It had nearly 70,000 signatures. In fact, when there was a demonstration, police were taking care of the whole situation. Maximum, twelve people were there—one on the left side of the street, one on the right side of the street, and one with a big megaphone—that was it. It’s very easy to earn signatures against everything. It was a great success in Palermo. Young people were coming from the whole nation. They were very enthusiastic. I was so happy about that.

OK: It’s one of your biggest exhibitions right?

Translator: It’s quite big—more than 2,000 meters in space. It’s a fantastic place.

OK: Last question, what do you like to do for fun?

HN: For fun, when we are finished, I will go down in the garden and drink wonderful wine.

"Hermann Nitsch - The Orgies Mysteries Theatre" will be on view at the ZAC (Zisa Contemporary Art) Spaces, until September 20, 2015 in Palermo, Italy. Text and Interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Intro photograph by Luci Lux. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Nature Slut: An Interview With Sexual Mystic and Artist Bunny Michael

July 6, 2015

&nbs… — *photograph by Katherine Finkelstein*

Back in 2007, she was Bunny Rabbit – it was the era of scenesters, top eight, Internet party photos, seemingly blind vapidness and a generation of millennials desperately seeking a discernible identity. She sang about taking cocaine anally and smoking marijuana vaginally – with backing beats from trans MC and Coco Rosie beat boxer Black Cracker. Her album “Lovers and Crypts” garnered a lot of attention – Sasha Frere-Jones in a New Yorker article dubbed her “the original art rapper.” Today, she is Bunny Michael – after four years of self-realization and a recent sexual revolution she has found a deeper, more meaningful side to herself as an artist and a person. Her recent series of photographs, which are on view now at Alt Space in Brooklyn, are a testament to her evolution and elevation. The exhibition – entitled “The Etheric Double – is the artist’s first solo show and features portraits of the artist and her “spiritual twin” who is manifest as a higher consciousness and a conduit for “kindness, love and acceptance.” In the following interview, Bunny talks about coming out, sexual revolution and the importance of finding your own spiritual twin.

You describe yourself as a “Nature Slut,” and as a “Telepathic Goddess of the Future.” Can you introduce your identity as an artist and explain what those terms mean?

I call myself a Nature Slut because it’s an identity I created. A few years ago, I was writing an erotic poem about having sex with a woman in nature. I realized that what I was trying to get at was the other woman being myself, a higher version of myself, a natural being. I realized that I had lost touch—or I had never been in touch—with the part of me that is Nature. Human beings, we often think of Nature. The sexual part of it is just wanting to be in touch with nature as a sexual being, being a creator. I don’t really see any difference; I think that sexual expression is the ultimate form of creation. We can’t take for granted—as females—the power to create another human being. I feel that there is power in the forgotten past of sexual energy, sex magic… There are multiple layers.

Doesn’t the word slut have a negative connotation?

It’s a reclaiming of the word, “slut.” It’s natural to have sexual desire. It’s not shameful. The shaming of it is what creates a lot of the pain around it. The history of shaming our sexual nature is, in my opinion, the reason why we have so much sex crime, sex violence. It’s because we have repress this energy. And we repress it because we don’t feel free to express it. So, the word, “slut”—I was called a slut a lot when I was young, just being who I was. I didn’t even have a lot of partners, but kids at school still called me a slut. So I’ve always identified with that word, in a way. I want to reclaim it and say, “Okay, fine, I’m proud to be sexual.”

There seems to be a lot of repression in society, especially with women.

Of course with women. The sexual nature of women is an untapped, forgotten power that we have over men—great men, who are attracted to women. I think that’s why a lot of men feel the need to holler at a woman on the street or sexually degrade her. They feel overwhelmed by the power this woman has over them, and she doesn’t even notice them. We can just be walking down the street, minding our own business, but we exude a power that they don’t understand. It’s their way of reclaiming their power.

Where do you think this fear of power comes from?

I think it’s thousands of years of degrading women, ever since the Inquisition. Centuries of the genocide of females. There are villages in Europe that didn’t have any women at all because they had killed them off. There was this whole campaign against women so that religion could have more control. There’s a power that women are more sensitive to, that comes within their natural abilities. I think that’s very threatening to the establishment. We’re living in a time now where we have to bring back the feminine. It exists in both males and females, but I think the energy is feminine, especially with our connection to the earth. We’re living in a time where we’re remembering our power. The old ways aren’t working anymore. We’re getting that, we’re becoming more aware of that, we’re getting more in touch. The feminine is becoming more and more powerful.

What are some ways that we can level the playing field? How do we bring progress? Through art?

I think it’s raising your voice. Whether it’s through your art, through your discussions with your friends. To be honest, I think the number one thing is raising your own consciousness. There are a lot of activists out there who identify as being an activist. But I think it takes looking at yourself first, before you can claim that somebody else is wrong. Part of that feminine energy has a lot to do with compassion and understanding.

It doesn’t seem like it should just be women exploring that. Men should be taking these topics to light as well.

Men and women have suffered from the imbalance. This goes back to the racial thing too. Privilege isn’t always a blessing. I don’t want that to be interpreted the wrong way… It’s our struggles that make us stronger people. It’s the experiences that we’ve had, the worldly ideas that we’ve encountered. I’ve said this about growing up gay. The experiences I went through were hard, but they made me more important. And they made me more in touch with my sexual nature. If you’re living in a world of illusions—you grew up in a rich family, you went to school, you did what your dad did, maybe you have a lot of money… Is that what life is about? Life is about having joyous, fulfilling experiences. I don’t resent people who haven’t been put in situations that test their strength, because those situations help you grow.

Speaking of coming out and your family, did you have a lot of support from your family on your initial journey as an artist, as a person?

Initially, I didn’t really. My mom wasn’t born in this country, and my dad grew up with a lot of cultural influences, so they didn’t quite understand what they should do. They wanted to do right. In their mind, they thought it would be a hard life, so they didn’t want that for me. The crazy thing was that when I was young and coming out, I had a lot of friends’ parents who were really supportive. But on some other level, they were kind of spoiled kids. They got a lot of money, they partied all the time. Even though my parents, since they came from a different culture, didn’t understand that aspect, they understood something else that was very, very important. That was loyalty to family, which was a very valuable lesson. I don’t think that was a part of American culture. That lasted, and we’ve grown together from that. So I don’t regret any of those experiences with my parents. Now, they’re very supportive. We’ve all grown together. But the lessons they did instill in me were invaluable.

You do have to appreciate the positive aspects of what they appreciate. When did you know that you first wanted to make music? Was it music or art? When did you first start exploring your artistic side?

I started exploring my artistic side when I was in high school. I started doing a lot of LSD, and something just clicked in my head. Something literally opened up in my brain, some portal. I started doing a lot of drugs, my friends were all doing them. I was an actress then, too. I came to New York and realized, oh shit, you could do whatever you wanted. I still hadn’t done music, but I was dating somebody who was really good friends with the band Coco Rosie. We started playing around and making music. I started freestyling about a Bunny. They were like, let’s make a record. And the put out my record in 2005. It was called “Bunny Rabbit.” I did all the lyrics, but it was really a collaboration between us and another artist called Black Cracker. We toured a lot, we had a lot of success. But at the time I was very ego. I wasn’t able to really enjoy what was happening, and that’s why it fell apart. So in the past few years since then, I’ve been teaching myself how to make music and learning a lot of life lessons. This is my first solo project.

This is your first solo art show?

This is my first solo art show. The necessity for art came with the music. We made our own flyers, our own music videos. We did everything ourselves. That was a big part of the aesthetic of sound then. Now, I use that as the same mold, the same message. The visual art, the music, everything is connected to the same message.

You’ve been doing a lot of videos on YouTube in which you’re talking directly to artists, but you’ve also been talking about this sexual revolution after experimenting with plant-based medicines. Can you describe this revolution? How has this changed you as an artist?

I used to not be very open about it. I used to want to keep things private. But I’ve been practicing with ayahuasca. I know a lot of people practice with it now. The reason why I bring it up is because I don’t think anyone is talking about it. I had a sexual revolution from it that was totally unexpected. I expected to learn to love myself and all the things I had heard about it. But for me, it channeled all this sexual energy. I looked at my body for the first time and saw that I was this sexual form of nature. I started to really love that, for the first time. And I felt really comfortable in that. I saw that I was this animal, beautiful being. Then, I got really into sex magic. I started to feel very spiritual about my sexual practices. I started having visions during them. I think there’s a whole untapped world in that realm. And it goes back to ancient eastern sex practices. I am, by far, not the first person to experience this. There’s lots of books about it. We have this power within ourselves. It’s the power of creation. It’s not just about being able to create a child. We can manifest anything we want. Also, there’s the issue of the female orgasm and how unexplored that is.

Especially to American society, it feels like a complete mystery. It seems like our viewpoints since the Victorian era have not been that different.

There are still scientists who claim that it doesn’t exist. It’s really crazy to me. So I’m praying and hoping that my work inspires others to feel unashamed about their desires. I want them to feel comfortable in their expression.

I think we need that more than ever right now. Your group show—“The Etheric Double”—is a fascinating concept. Can you describe the idea of the Etheric Double?

On this journey that I’ve been on—which I feel a lot of people are on right now—is a journey of self-realization, awakenings, and awareness of self. Actually, I started going to hypnotherapy. I started visualizing myself doing things in those sessions, and that was very healing for me. So I started to develop seeing my spirit in meditations. She was myself, the form that I see in the mirror. It was very healing for me to know that this higher being, my spirit self, was looking after me. I felt her comfort. She was who I was outside of the form of this body. The way I saw her was as my twin. So then, I made one photo where there was two of me, and something just clicked. It was her. So I kept making these photographs of me and her with a dialogue. Some of the photos are kind of uncomfortable. There’s a push and pull between the two of us. Some days, I wake up and I’m not there; I can’t be the present person that I want to be. And then some days I’m right with her. I think we’re all going through that right now. We’re at this time of really big change, really big awakening. We can feel it about to happen, but we’re not quite there yet. We still have to do more work. So I was trying to illustrate that with the Etheric Double, that story, the domestic story of our relationship to the everyday. Everyday, just trying to do your best.

That’s really interesting. You have a performance coming up in Sweden, in July. Can you talk a little about that?

It’s their pride festival. They asked to play, and I said yes, because a lot of friends of mine have played. Juliana Huxtable is a good friend, and she played there last year. I’m excited. I want to put myself out to the world, do a lot of traveling. I want to connect with people who have different experiences. I’m usually in a bubble, especially in Brooklyn. I’m really looking forward to going overseas.

Especially with last week’s ruling, that’s amazing. That’s a big, big step. My last question is, what do you want people to know about you as an artist that they don’t already know?

I want people to know that I am not about exclusivity. I’m about inclusiveness. The time of exclusiveness is over. It’s time for us to come together and realize what we have in common. We have to work together. It’s not going to be one person doing this alone. If anyone came in contact with me, I would want them to feel totally comfortable connecting with me. If they wanted to send me a message on Facebook, send me an email, whatever, they could. I don’t people to look at my art and see this untouchable thing. I want to be an artist of the people. I know they may not like the particular technique that I use, but I want the energy to be that of inclusiveness. That’s what I strive for.

Bunny Michael's first solo exhibition, entitled "Etheric Double," is on view now until July 12 at Alt Space, 41 Montrose Avenue, Brooklyn. See her music video for Gasolina below. Click here to purchase her 2014 EP Rainbow Licker. Text and interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

"To Hide To Show" A Group Exhibition That Explores the Nature of Hiding and Revealing: An Interview With the Artists

June 12, 2015

Opening tomorrow night in Los Angeles, MAMA gallery will present To Hide To Show, a group exhibition derived from a contemporary French social anthropological study entitled Montrer / Occulter, which loosely translates to the exhibition’s title. The artists chosen to represent the ideas and concepts behind this study, and its conclusions, experiment with the notion of concealing and revealing on a societal, intellectual and creative basis. These artists include Clara Balzary, Zoe Crosher, Nana Ghana, Ariana Papademetropoulos, Mattea Perrotta, Fay Ray, Lisa Solberg, and Johanna Tagada. The concept of hiding and showing lends itself as a true analysis of the assembling and dissection of the human psyche, in a constant battle between order and sabotage, between how we present our true self to the world and how we feel about inner self – the dark ghost that is always haunting from within. In To Hide To Show, the artists are interpreting these multi-dimensional, anthropological, psychological and metaphysical concepts using varying degrees of personal reflection, historical reference, visual language and controlled performance. To Hide To Show is the idea that concealment is to make something sacred and exposure of that sacredness is equal to degradation. To be revealed in this exhibition are the artists' artifacts of what they hold sacred while at the same time what they choose to defile.

Read the following Q&As to learn more about each artist in the exhibition…

JOHANNA TAGADA

photo by Jatinder Singh Durhailay — *photo by Jatinder Singh Durhailay*

WHERE ARE YOU FROM? From a tiny village in east France. Now based in London.

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION: Nature, daily life, feelings and traditions.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: A chance for "places"? My lover's arms; Nara in Japan and all the small villages near by; my grandparents’ farmhouse.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Painting. I also do drawing, photography, video, publishing, sculpture, textile and installation.

MEDIUM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE WORKING WITH: I enjoy very much working with all mediums mentioned above and I look forward to do more modular sculptures. In a conversation with LA based BOOK STAND earlier this year I said "It is important to question the physicality of the medium with which I am involved. It can be something difficult, for example, one of my main mediums is painting, which has such a big tradition, but that is also so often seen again and again as “dead.” Push the reflection further, compose, question, endlessly, and yet keep it simple and understandable on various levels. I like to create a dialogue between the various mediums with which I am composing in my body of work. Every thing is connected, my paintings are like the roots, my photographs might reveal the seeds, my publications are the branches that are like traces of the growth of the tree, the videos and installations pieces are like the blooming flowers of my work that are only seen occasionally and that should be enjoyed together as a whole."

GREATEST DISCOVERY AS AN ARTIST: The world.

STRANGEST EXPERIENCE: What do you call "strange?" Here is something happy and unexpected: Meeting Yoshitomo Nara, one of my favorite artists and assisting him for his lecture on the occasion of his retrospective at the Dairy Art Center in London last fall.

WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? Insecurity.

WHAT ARE YOU REVEALING? Positive feelings, happy memories.

WHAT’S NEXT? Épistolaire Imaginaire - Les Fleures du Japon: a solo exhibition and the U.S. introduction of my piece Épistolaire Imaginaire (it first premiered in Tokyo, July 2014) opening on July 11th at at IKO IKO x BUILDING BLOCKS (LA) in collaboration with BOOK STAND.

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS? Working on projects and exhibitions through which I can bring positivity to people's lives. I truly hope for my work to be a trigger, softly, like a warm hug pushing people to make positive and meaningful changes. Despite my soft and tender imagery, the ideals I pursue as a human, as an artist, require hard work and strength. For my artistic practice and lifestyle I am inspired by the way of life from my ancestors, I do best to apply this to the period of time in which we live. Such decisions for example imply saying no to mass produced food and clothes, creating my publishing work with acid free paper, binding them by hand, it's a little like being a Poetic "Punk". I am very attached to nature and I do not believe in a hierarchy system in which the human sits on top. Therefore life choices such as being Vegan are relevant to my body of work.

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY: Oneness

MATTEA PERROTA

WHERE ARE YOU FROM? Venice Beach, California

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION? Anywhere and everywhere. It’s all in the tiny details of what is existing in our peripheral, and what we choose to take note of. Curiosity inspires my work most.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: Any ocean.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Oil.

WHAT IS THE MEDIUM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE WORKING WITH? Bronze, plaster, wood.

GREATEST DISCOVERY AS AN ARTIST: Being comfortable sharing what is hidden. I often times have these moments and think, “what the fuck am I doing?” This is always a break through moment for me because I go deep into my unconscious when I work and lose sight of my reality. I work from emotion, pleasure and use my work as a vehicle to understand what the hell is going on around me. When I take a step back and leave my unconscious is when I’m tested. It’s what I’m revealing about my hidden emotions and seeing this abstract emotion painted on a tangible object is wild. Sometimes it works and can exist in my reality, and often times I’m not ready to share it. Vulnerability is difficult for me, but my work has helped me become okay with sharing what I’m hiding.

STRANGEST EXPERIENCE: Anytime someone asks you what your painting means.

WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? I won’t tell. We’re all hiding something, aren’t we? These things are what make us more complex and interesting individually.

WHAT ARE YOU REVEALING? Life is very, very complicated. I’m trying to understand the absurdity and beauty of it all through my work.

WHAT’S NEXT: I’m currently at Al Maqam Artist Residency in Marrakech working on a new oil series for a fall exhibition. I’ll also be showing work alongside a handful of Moroccan and French Artists in San Francisco this October.

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS: That’s difficult to say considering I barely know what I’m doing tomorrow. I only work when inspiration strikes. I hope to be traveling and understanding more about the world, being inspired from the places I visit and people that cross my path. The unconscious comes to me during these moments, and these are the moments that get me in the studio creating. I see myself working on large-scale paintings and working 3-dimensionally with plaster or wood. I’d love for these two mediums to have a relationship and co-exist in the same space.

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY: “This whole world is wild at heart and weird on top,” David Lynch.

NANA GHANA

WHERE ARE YOU FROM? I am from a coastal village called Bakaano in Ghana West Africa

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION? I look for inspiration from everyday life, people, places and things.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: Favorite place in the whole world? Hard to say, there are many places I still haven’t been yet, I guess it be in the arms of my lover.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Performance art and filmmaking.

WHAT IS A MEDIUM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE WORKING WITH? The medium I like to be working in is exactly the medium I am in right now: performance and filmmaking

GREATEST DISCOVERY AS AN ARTIST: The greatest discovery thus far as an artist is that that the path of the artist is a spiritual journey.

STRANGEST EXPERIENCE: Strangest experience as an artist, like Jim Morrison said, “People are Strange.”

WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? Nothing

WHAT ARE YOU REVEALING? Everything…take it all.

WHAT’S NEXT: Keep doing dope projects with amazing people and sending African Alien Mermaid vibes to ALL.

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS: In five years….Keep on doing what I'm doing but get to higher levels…Cause there are levels to this shit!

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY: Life is a feeling process…I love Feeling…feeling it all.

LISA SOLBERG

WHERE ARE YOU FROM? Chicago.

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION? Everywhere… boring, but true.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: Iceland or Indo.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Oil paint, ballpoint pen.

WHAT IS A MEDIUM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE WORKING WITH? Black sand.

GREATEST DISCOVERY AS AN ARTIST: Beauty.

STRANGEST EXPERIENCE: Saying I’m an artist.

WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? It would ruin the show if I said!

WHAT ARE YOU REVEALING: I like the unexpected.

WHAT’S NEXT? I’m doing a performance based installation/strip club, pimping out a snowcat in Utah, exhibiting a new show at 24HR PSYCHIC, and continuing to write on the side.

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS: With a secondary studio on a bunch of land out in nature someplace.

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY: Go big or go home!

CLARA BALZARY

WHERE ARE YOU FROM: Los Angeles, CA.

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION: Books, films, and out the window.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: The south in the summer.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Photography.

WHAT IS A MEDIUM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE WORKING WITH? Writing.

GREATEST DISCOVERY AS AN ARTIST: That to dig deep into your own work isn’t always all that dissimilar from a 9 - 5 job.

STRANGEST EXPERIENCE: Going on trips up north alone to take photos and realizing I hadn’t spoken out loud for days.

WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? Boring light.

WHAT ARE YOU REVEALING: That Oooh heaven is a place on earth!

WHAT’S NEXT: Breaking away from shooting pretty girls by default.

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS? On the southern coast of Italy dressed like Truman Capote.

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY: Life’ll kill ya.

FAY RAY

WHERE ARE YOU FROM? Southern Califronia

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION: Rocks.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: Any beach.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Photography

GREATEST DISCOVER AS AN ARTIST? If you keep making work, you learn things about materials, process and meaning and if you stop making work you don't.

STRANGEST EXPERIENCE: It's all strange.

WHAT'S NEXT: I am in a group show in Miami titled Bananas at Gallery Diet in Miami from June 19 to September 5th

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS? My only hope is to still be making art and to be grateful for whatever is going on at the time.

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY: Reward yourself often.

ZOE CROSHER

WHERE ARE YOU FROM: I was born in Santa Rosa in Northern California, but never lived there, growing up the daughter of a diplomat. I often describe my life as covering the Cold War Hot Spots - Germany in the late 70s, Moscow in the early 80s, Athens in the mid/late 80s. I spent the last few years in High School in suburban MD (years I have basically blanked out.) Then I did the rebellious thing of going to UCSC, while my parents went on to live in Seoul, Korea in the mid-90s, where I did spend a junior semester abroad. CalArts called me for my MFA, which is how I moved down to the Los Angeles area.

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION: It depends on what time of day and what day of the week! Generally cinema and architecture (particularly about Los Angeles, and particularly from the 70s and 80s) inspires me, as does work that collapses theory and inspiration. Really good art writing can light a fire as well. Ladies who own who they are, have agency and are generous in nature, who really find their own course, are an endless inspiration. Recently, I’m overwhelmingly moved by someone known only as “Madame” from Lotusland - Madame Ganna Walska (please see here for more). I learned about her while doing a small residency up at the stunning garden in Santa Barbara. Just read her bio to see why I’m so inspired - she is noted for selling a million dollars worth of her jewels in the 70s to buy super rare cycad seeds to complete her gardens. She made her own clothes, staged her own plays, had numerous husbands, built out her fantasy world - she even wrote an autobiography called ‘There’s Always Room At The Top’. I think she even helped start the Audubon Society, to stop millineries from decimating birds for hats! Along with lady eccentrics, my current obsession right now is tending towards gardens - I’m thinking a lot about what gardens and art collections have a lot in common - constantly fighting entropy, chaos, decay, collecting, endlessly archiving, etc.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: I’m defaulting to the Ice Hotel for some reason right now. Perhaps it’s a conversation from tonight, speaking to a lady who is getting married and on the fence about taking a honeymoon. It is something I didn’t do right after getting married, which I regret - and for some reason I always thought going to the Ice Hotel in Sweden would have been amazing (it harkens back to a childhood fantasy in Superman, when I fell in love with his crystal palace, appropriately called The Fortress of Solitude.) I also default to a fantasy Italian villa that is rustic and perfect, complete with the food and wine that magically appears in between siestas, long walks and other distractions.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Right now, I’m terming something I’m calling the IMAGIATIC - as opposed to the “photographic”. I come out of a photography background, but have always felt limited by the terms of it, terms which have in the last few years melted away. But instead of tending towards this sort of New Materiality that so many of the formerly photographically-inclined in Los Angeles do, I’m tending towards a more expanded field of photography that I am terming the IMAGIATIC - concerned with the imaginary, the image, etc. The medium itself doesn’t matter, it’s almost a conceptual conceit. Thus I’m engaged now in sculpture (natural bronze), fools gold dust, desserts, billboards, compositions, publications, and still of course images as photographs, anything that engages with the imaginary of Los Angeles. For it is not the medium that determines the message, it’s the imaginary that does.

WHAT IS A MEDIUM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE WORKING WITH? I’ve already jumped into it - and am learning an infinite amount right now about bronzing.

GREATEST DISCOVERY AS AN ARTIST: Walking into Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Room at Robert Miller Gallery when it first was shown - before the Whitney, before its infamy. I was in NYC, somewhat annoyed and downtrodden about the commodification of Chelsea, when I fell into a line to go into this nondescript trailer sort of thing. I remember being so annoyed at having to wait in line (and it was a very short line back then), then only to discover the life and mind-bending perfect art moment. Discovering that piece, discovering the potential of art, discovering the promise of Art, it was a joy I will never forget. And it is a joy that keeps me going through the dark days of the current art world.

WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? How angry I am at/with the extreme and horrendous level of sexism that exists in the art world. And how crazy it makes me that so many women with power perpetuate this sexism.

WHAT ARE YOU REVEALING? My endless enthusiasm.

WHAT’S NEXT? Bronzing all these “blossoms” from various disappearing and rare plants from the Lotusland Garden. A lot of these incredible plants do a sort of last hurrah dance, with reproductive organs (sex parts!) that grow sometimes ten times the size of the plant itself, going full out right before the plant dies! I’m collecting all these blossoms, both male and female, from super small blossoms to super huge pieces - it’s been quite an amazing experience to work with these incredibly rare and extensive gardens. I am also continuing my conceptual mapping of Los Angeles, this time through its discarded palm fronds. Ideally this project consists of about a hundred natural bronze palm frond sculptures, all of which are unique and named according to where they were found in and around Los Angeles. There will be an exhibition of a handful of them at LAXART, opening on September 12th.

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS: Similar to my life now, but at a more expansive scale. I already have in mind the things I want to do and make, and I have tasted what is possible when there is real support behind a project. I think expansively, from huge, harrowing archives to cross-country billboard projects. Right now I’m trying to figure out how to get Swarovski involved in the crystalizing of one of the entropic Shangri-LA’d walls I’m commissioning, which I’d love to have produced all over the world (I want to see what a London florist will do vs. a San Paulo florist will do, when given the challenge to create their fantasy of Los Angeles, in any way they want, as a wall of flora and fauna.) I’d love to find the right place of support where the means and ways can catch up to what I already see and imagine in my head - and it is something I can’t wait to realize. It’s an inspiring time right now in my practice.

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY? Don’t confuse the personal and the professional - make sure your true intimates have nothing to do (or as little to do) with your work life as possible. In a time when so much is privately and publicly collapsed, it’s hard to tell why someone might engage with you. When it comes to your home and romantic life, take that ‘what can you do for me’ and whatever power question completely out of the running. Make your personal life about something more than what you do.

ARIANA PAPADEMETROPOULOS

WHERE ARE YOU FROM: Pasadena and Venice California.

WHERE DO YOU LOOK FOR INSPIRATION: The more I think about it the more I realize that it’s very difficult to pinpoint. It’s not from being in my studio this I know, it’s from experiencing life outside of it, anywhere from attending a lizard convention, to a castle or a gun club. I would say that it stems from anything out of the ordinary, but even the ordinary can be really, really strange. If I am on a deadline and need to come up with something quickly I’ll go to places with a concentrated amount of information, i.e. library or museum, the optimal place being The Huntington Gardens that contains a bit of everything.

FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD: The Greek Islands.

CHOSEN MEDIUM: Oil paint.

WHAT IS A MEDIUM THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE WORKING WITH? Electricity. I would love to start making marvelous light fixtures.

GREATEST DISCOVERY AS AN ARTIST: That a painting can possess you.

STRANGEST EXPERIENCE: Last year I co-curated a show where I planned out a séance with Andy Warhol for the artist Jeffrey Vallance. Before the show, the medium, Joseph Ross and I got into a little quarrel. We had originally agreed he would be dressed in normal attire (not actually normal he wears fabulous purple suits and feathers in his hats resembling a 90s pimp) but that he wouldn’t be in a costume of Andy Warhol. This was so that the audience wouldn’t think we were phonies. Anyhow, an hour before the séance is to begin, he tells me that Andy has communicated to him that he refuses to be channeled unless Joseph gets an outfit and a wig. I couldn’t argue with a ghost, especially not Andy Warhol; so he got his way. Later I found out that Andy Warhol would sometimes have impersonators of himself do lectures for him at schools in his wigged disguise.

WHAT ARE YOU HIDING? The taboo, the kitsch, kinky, and strange. Darkness, death and mortality.

WHAT ARE YOU REVEALING? An attractive palate of colors that distracts the viewer. Only the curious realize there’s more to what the surface layer of my paintings conceal. Sometimes it’s a midget handing a zucchini to Snow White from an Italian Snow White porno, or a dead man that’s been so brutally murdered he has become an abstraction.

WHAT’S NEXT? I’m illustrating a children’s book, recreating the vintage board game Snakes and Ladders and designing a few record covers I’m very excited about. I also have a solo show in Sonoma in a few weeks.

WHERE DO YOU SEE YOURSELF AS AN ARTIST IN FIVE YEARS: Hopefully living in a hobbit / storybook home I’ve built.

A QUOTE OR SENTIMENT TO LIVE BY? My high school quote was “If you’re having a terrible day, just pour a bag of glitter in front of a fan and live in paradise”, and I think that’s still a pretty good quote to live by. Although I meant it literally at the time, I think it means that you don’t need much to be happy except for a little effort and a good attitude.

TO HIDE TO SHOW will open on June 13th and will be on view until July 25, 2015 at MAMA Gallery, 1242 Palmetto Street, Los Angeles, California. Interviews by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. Stay up to date, follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Healer of Civilization: An Interview With Pandrogyne Seer Genesis Breyer P'Orridge

May 29, 2015

After Genesis Breyer P’Orridge’s legendary “Prostitution” exhibition at the ICA in London – which included pornographic collages, bloody tampons, and prostitutes, transvestites, hustlers and punks intermingling with the audiences – P’Orridge was deemed a “wrecker of civilization” by House of Commons representative Nicholas Fairbairn. Coincidentally, at the same time that a debate was stirring in the Parliament and the House about the antics of P’Orridge and their neo-Dadaist art collective COUM Transmissions, they were in Kathmandu feeding and providing shelter for lepers, beggars and refugees at their own expense. Wrecker or healer – you decide. Indeed, Genesis has a mystical aura about them – they exist in a realm beyond music and beyond art, and they are truly one of this epoch’s great spiritual seers. Many people probably know Genesis from the brilliant documentary The Ballad of Genesis and Lady Jaye, which explores the artist's relationship with Lady Jaye and their pursuit to meld their identities into one using plastic surgery. Genesis is also the founder of formative "industrial" bands Throbbing Gristle and Psychic TV. For Genesis, art and music are one commingling mechanism of their vast creative pursuits. In late 2015 and 2016, Genesis will have a number of major solo exhibitions from Zurich to New York. This weekend, though, you can catch Genesis at the Jackie Klempay gallery in Brooklyn where they will be holding a “Pandrogaragenous Avant-yard Sale.” Genesis will be blessing objects as they are purchased – objects like Lady Jaye’s “throne” for her late night joint (an Afghani bridal chair with matching end tables), Songe-power figures, a Balinese human-sized chicken cage in which Gen took many an out-of-body ritual trip, Lady Jaye’s Peter Fox shoes, designer platforms, bolero jackets, clothes galore, DVDs, CDs, 1960’s trinkets, guaranteed used dildos, whips and more. Autre was lucky enough to get a chance to speak to Genesis about rebellion, COUM Transmissions, the importance of the subculture, and more.

Oliver Maxwell Kupper: What were some of your earliest introductions to art? Was it a challenge to explore art where you grew up? Did you have to travel abroad, or to London?

Genesis P’Orridge: Actually, we didn’t get taught art at school after the age of ten. We had to do it all on our own. We used to persuade my parents to get one of these weekly magazines that creates an encyclopedia. It was the history of art from the Stone Age to Modern Art. We read that every week, and that’s how we educated ourselves about different forms and the historical trajectory of art. And then, we persuaded the art teacher of the young kids to let me use his studio space. He would make materials available, and that’s where we started to paint and make sculptures and objects. That’s where we really got much more into it. Through him, we found out about Dada and surrealism and got some Thames & Hudson books of all things. Basically, we got into it by trying to copy things. We did one surrealist painting to learn how they got that smooth effect. A lot of it was mimicking what we’d seen in order to learn the techniques at home.

OK: Was there any specific artists from that era—either Dadaism or surrealism—that inspired you?

GP: Yeah, Max Ernst was the one that inspired me to try my hand at collages. That’s one we’ve done all the time ever since. We still make collages regularly. The first big exhibition we had in New York was of collages—going back 30 years of collages. It was cool, 30 years of being cut up. So we’ve never stopped making collages and little objects and quirky little boxes with strange things in them. Since 2003, maybe a bit earlier, when we got to New York, we started to work with Lady Jaye and create the artist Breyer P’Orridge. We started to take photographs to document that. Then, we started to exhibit those as well. So it snowballed. Between the collages and the pandrogeny photographic work, we came back into the art world having been missing since the late 70s. Now, we make objects and multiples. We’ve got a solo exhibition in Zurich in September. In March next year, we have a solo show at Invisible Exports. Their booth at the Armory Show will all be Breyer P’Orridge, and the Rubin Museum will be doing a solo Breyer P’Orridge on our relationship with Nepal and Africa. Next year, we have a lot of art exhibitions happening.

OK: Going back a little bit to COUM Transmissions, there was a lot of political and cultural upheaval. Is there any one thing that you could pinpoint that created this atmosphere?

GP: That point of time in the 70s in Britain, and to an extent in the United States, was a time that was post-hippie. People started to look at these more cynically. You saw all the classic symptoms of something being wrong with society and culture. Bigotry, economic totalitarianism, racism, conditioning through advertising and mass media—the whole gallop, the haves and have nots. In Britain especially—we still have the class system with the monarchy. It was blatantly oppressive in every possible way. There were the very rich who were trying to maintain that at any price. Then, there were the people who were disenfranchised, who literally had no future that could be seen. You’ve got punk, you’ve got industrial—both sides of the Atlantic. It was a rebellion against inequality and domineering cultures in general with their techniques of control, usually intimidation.

OK: Why is the counter-culture important to you specifically? Why is counter-culture important to culture in general?

GP: It’s the think tank—always has been, always will be. In any culture, at any point in the history of our species, there are those who feel dissatisfied with the power structures, the dynamics of who has control over what resources, and who decides what the moral taboos are and are not. And all moral taboos and policing of sexuality are different in every country as you cross the planet. There’s no fixed truth. There’s no definite moral standard except try not to hurt anybody. Beyond that, it’s all arbitrary. As Burroughs used to say, “If you want to know what’s going on, look for the best at interest.” You can always find them. It’s really easy to spot people who like to keep things just the way they are, because they’re winning with that system.

"That attack was a cry of rage against all the hypocrisy and double standards and the ignorance of those who have power to change things for the better. We were pissed off. We wanted to confront them and create a dialogue, which did happen. But then things change. You can only do that for so long, and then it becomes just a formula. You’re doing what people expect—they come to see if you’re going to do something outrageous, and then it has no meaning."

OK: Some of your shows have had some pretty extreme reactions—arrests, outrage, deemed a wrecker of Western civilization. What was your reaction to these reactions?

GP: Actually, it was dismay. Not because we cared what they said, but because we could see how it could lead to us being restricted in what we said and what we did. Ultimately, that did happen with the government in 1991. We were told we couldn’t go home for seven years or more. We’ve got to be honest here, there’s a part of me that was kind of tickled. I thought it was really pretty funny that they were asking questions in Parliament about used tampons. There were editorials in daily newspapers trying to explain anti-art and performance art to the general public, and not doing it very well. One newspaper editorial said that Genesis P’Orridge is an evil monster who should be locked in a cage and the key thrown away. It went on and on like that, how vile and disgusting and evil we were. That’s a bit intimidating. Not so much when they say it, but you think, what happened to Johnny Rotten—he got attacked in the street because right wing thugs got wound up by what they read about him. There’s always that risk that somebody idiotic is going to attack you. But it comes with the territory, really. What can you do?

OK: Do you have any advice for artists pushing the envelope today?

GP: Push it harder…Strategies change. COUM Transmissions was in the early 70s basically. That attack was a cry of rage against all the hypocrisy and double standards and the ignorance of those who have power to change things for the better. We were pissed off. We wanted to confront them and create a dialogue, which did happen. But then things change. You can only do that for so long, and then it becomes just a formula. You’re doing what people expect—they come to see if you’re going to do something outrageous, and then it has no meaning. Therefore, you’re not creating a dialogue, and so it’s failing. There’s sort of a curve of effectiveness for every strategy. You have to learn when to let go of that strategy and look at something else. We moved on to Thee Temple ov Psychick Youth and Magick, networking and setting up communities that were still outside the norm, ignoring the status quo. Saying, “What do we want to live like? What do we want our chosen tribe to try to believe? How do we want it to behave? How do we want to protect ourselves?” Then, you get to the point where you say, “Well, just looking after ourselves and building a little bubble where we actually live much more how we would like, how about everyone else who can’t do that?” You start to look at the world outside. That was when we went to Kathmandu and financed a soup kitchen for Tibetan refugees, lepers, and beggars at our own expense. For three months, we fed anyone who came—soup twice a day, with clean water and food. We got them through the winter so they survived. Ironically, that was when they were saying we were wrecking civilization and evil. They never mentioned, to this day, that we were working with Tibetan Buddhist monks in Nepal feeding and clothing people who had nothing.

OK: Improving the world.

GP: Yeah, improving the world. That’s what you get to. You realize, ultimately, it’s about evolution—how the species is going to evolve. Is it even possible for human beings to change their behavior and lose those immediate responses and ways of living? They’re so embedded from everyone’s culture inevitably—through the pressure of family, education, religion, and so on. You get to a point where it gets very spiritual and philosophical. It becomes a question of how we can modify human behavior in some way so that we stop damning ourselves as a species and do something fantastic, like colonize space.

OK: Do you think that’s where we’ll be in the future?

GP: If we don’t destroy ourselves first and end up like Mad Max. Those are the options, to me.

OK: Space or Mad Max… Music has been on the back-burner. Do you have any plans to get back to music or making music.

GP: We just finished a tour, actually. We played a concert for peace in Kiev in the Ukraine. We played a concert for peace in Tel Aviv in Israel. We played in Italy and France and some other places. We’re even rehearsing tonight. We’re probably doing one concert this summer in New York, at Pioneer Works. And we’ll be touring again in the fall. We tour every year. We just released a brand new album called “Snakes” on Angry Love Recordings, which is our label. We’re still doing that, but we don’t make a lot of noise about it—no pun intended. We played with Aaron Dilloway two weeks ago, at the Red Bull Festival. We’re still out there playing away.

OK: You’re having a garage sale this weekend, and you’ll be blessing items. What can we expect from this event? Is there anything particularly meaningful to you that you’re giving away or blessing?

GP: We’ve been to West Africa twice, to Benin. We’ve been working on a documentary about voodoo. You see the poverty. You see the inequity of Western cultures and foreign cultures. To have a surplus and look around my apartment and say, “Why have I still got all those things?” We just don’t see them when we walk around. They’re on our shelf, but we don’t look anymore. The clothes are in a closet, but we don’t wear them anymore. The books are on the shelf, but we’ve read them. Why are we bothering to keep those things when a) they could give pleasure to someone else and be reactivated, and b) the money could go to something much more positive and creative. It can make new things happen. So it becomes awkward having too much when you come from somewhere like Nepal where people have got nothing. You feel somewhat obscene. No matter how magnanimous and altruistic you are, no matter how much you try to help, you still realize that there’s never going to be enough you can do. So we tried, as a symbolic discipline for myself, to purge belongings and material things in order to a) remember that we’re so fortunate and b) to generate funding for new art program ideas, new videos, new music, whatever it might be. Or new charities—with Nepal and the earthquake. We’re going back in October in preparation for the exhibition next year. And what we find there is going to influence what we do and how we work with materials. And it will go towards, hopefully, building a bridge from the West to the Far East that will help in some way.

OK: It’s really devastating over there right now.

PG: Yeah, it’s a tragedy. Those temples that are hundreds of years old—gone. Those can never be replaced. You can’t even rebuild them. They had hundreds of years of devotion and people trying to explore consciousness. Because of a lot of Hinduism and Buddhism, to find ways to expand consciousness and develop compassion, generosity, and kindness. Those should be encouraged. So it’s a real tragedy, to see those centers of energy destroyed.

OK: Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to me.

PG: You’re really welcome, my friend. Tell everybody—come along. We have a little garden too, so we might have a little barbecue and snacks. We’re going to have little light shows and bubbles and psychedelic microfixtures. Bring back some colorful activism.

OK: I’ll make sure to spread the word.

Genesis Breyer P'Orridge's Pandrogaragenous Avant-yard Sale will be open from Saturday May 30 to Sunday May 31, 2015 at Jackie Klempay Gallery, 81 Central Ave (1A) Brooklyn, New York. text and interview by Oliver Maxwell Kupper

A Q&A With Enoc Perez At His New Exhibition 'Cut Shapes' @ Danziger Gallery In New York

May 11, 2015

Puerto Rico-born and New York-based artist Enoc Perez is an anomaly in the art world. He is a master craftsman and purveyor of fine arts: painting, sculpture, architecture, collage and other high-minded crafts transition from Perez’s mind to the canvas with shocking ease. But unlike some other modern masters, he doesn’t view technology, the Internet, or social media as an enemy; on the contrary, he approaches it with wide-eyed enthusiasm, “You kidding me?” asks Perez. “I love Instagram.”

Perez has found a way to marry his enthusiasm for the Internet and his tactile skills in his new show “Cut Shapes” at the Danziger Gallery in Manhattan’s Chelsea neighborhood. For the show, Perez sourced images from various women’s Instagram feeds and used cut out shapes to obscure the women’s faces and their more revealing body parts. What is left in the images is the essences of these women. By marrying digital imagery with tactile material, Perez proves that the two forms can most certainly co-exist, and even more so, can compliment one another to deliver a fresh way of viewing the modern world.

In an act of curatorial savvy, show curator and gallery owner James Danziger noticed that Perez’s work mirrored a series of images by artist and photographer Inge Morath. From 1959 to 1963, Morath and artist Saul Steinberg collaborated by doing a series of portraits of friends with their faces covered up by intriguing looking masks. Like Perez, Morath utilized traditional materials to create a new way of looking at technologically produced imagery. The take away from the two different sets of work created decades apart being displayed together is that the best artists have always paid heed to tradition while still embracing new ways to create art.

I caught up with Perez at the opening of “Cut Shapes” to talk about the show, his excitement about technology and why he loves portraying the auras of women.

Autre: I love the juxtaposition of your work with Inge’s, was she an inspiration or did you guys notice a similarity with your work and hers after yours was completed?

Enoc Perez: James picked up on it. It was not something I saw. I was familiar with her work and I was a big fan. But I hadn’t seen that particular group of images.

Autre: It was an act of curation?

Enoc Perez: It was curatorial, yeah. It was kind of cool when you think about it. Usually they group you in generational shows, and sometimes you share more similarities with artists that are not of your generation.

Autre: What I find interesting about this is that you’re applying tactile materials to digital imagery.

Enoc Perez: Yeah, of course, I’m a painter.

Autre: Are you a fan of the internet? Do you like being inundated with imagery?

Enoc Perez: I love it. It’s a new media and I think we are just trying to figure out what to do with it. It’s putting us in tremendous communication with the world. You can see what’s happening all over. The Internet can be like looking at art shows every day. With Instagram, you can curate shows in a way.

"It’s admiration; I love women. And actually to see the pictures that women post or take of themselves is far more beautiful than pictures of women that men have taken. Women get it, they know what works, and in a way they are more powerful.

Autre: And so many people that don’t have access to galleries, people from small rural towns, are getting turned onto amazing stuff through this new media.

Enoc Perez: Exactly, and it’s a way of representing yourself and how you want to be seen. Which actually relates to this work: all these pieces come from feeds of women that are posting themselves. This is how they want to be seen. To me, that’s a good place to start the collage: a co-existence of high and low culture.

Autre: Always the best when they are together (laughs)

Enoc Perez: I love low culture as much as I love high culture, so why not put them together?

Autre: One thing that I thought was interesting is the obscuring of the faces, the nipples, etc..

Enoc Perez: In a way, it’s a comment on the censorship of Instagram and other social media feeds. On Instagram, you have no idea how many of my posts have been taken down, it’s kind of silly but in a way they give us a starting point to make art and define the figure. Or not define it. So why censor it?

Also, I don’t know these women, so I have to be respectful, I don’t want their whole identities there. What I want is the figure, the essence, and the beauty that I love so much.

Autre: When you’re portraying women, is it romantic, is it sensual?

Enoc Perez: It’s admiration; I love women. And actually to see the pictures that women post or take of themselves is far more beautiful than pictures of women that men have taken. Women get it, they know what works, and in a way they are more powerful. As I started looking through these feeds, and I remember talking with Richard Prince about this, these feeds are gold mines of imagery. They are right there, in the public domain.

Autre: And Richard saw this happening years ago.

Enoc Perez: Yes, he did. We all have news ways of digesting and approaching new media. It’s all there, so why not embrace it?

Autre: And our accounts function as weird portals to our brains: our likes, our dislikes, our perversions and more.

Enoc Perez: It’s there, and so what? We can look; we’re not dead. It’s a way to see what’s happening culturally in the world right now. The reason these pictures work is because they look like today looks.

Inge Morath 'Masquerades' & Enoc Perez 'Cut Shapes' will be on view until June 13, 2015 at Danziger Gallery. See more photographs from the opening here. Text, interview and photographs by Adam Lehrer. Follow Autre on instagram to stay up to date: @AUTREMAGAZINE

After Malevich: A Q&A With Robert Levine Before His Solo Show @ MAMA Gallery

May 9, 2015

What do you get when you combine the work of Russian geometric abstract artist Kazimir Malevich, Superman, the minimalism of Joseph Albers, and Groucho Marx? – Besides a Pleiades-like connect the dots of near-schizophrenic referencing, you also get a conundrum of contradictions and a strange telling of art history that contemporary artist Robert Levine explores in his uniquely powerful, incongruous and disarming paintings and collages, which will be on view starting tonight at MAMA gallery. Autre got a chance to chat with Levine about his early introductions to art, his technique, his views on art history and art criticism and his solo exhibition opening tonight at MAMA gallery.

Autre: What were some of your earliest introductions to art?

Robert Levine: When I grew up, we had some art…nothing really valuable or anything…but we just always had art at home. That was my earliest introduction.

Autre: Was there a specific artist, or a specific work of art, that really inspired you?

Levine: The first time that I really thought there were possibilities or that things can be different was in Boston, at the ICA, and they were in a very small building at the time, but there was a show of minimal work….there was Robert Smithson, Robert Morrison, Donald Judd and [Dan] Flavin. I’ve tried to look up the show, but there is scant information about museums from back then. This would have been in 79’ or something. I had never seen a group of work like that, up close, and that really changed my mind about what art can be.

Autre: When you first start making art, you were creating sculptures, but then you recently started painting…what motivated you to pick up a paintbrush?

Levine: Actually, when I first started making art, I did a little bit of both. I worked concurrently until I was in CalArts, but after my first semester I stopped making painting and focused only on sculptural work. I mean I was doing these painting that stood in for painting, but it was sculpture. And I recently got back into painting, because I was making these sculptures with broken pencils and I just started doing drawings of them to have something else to go along with them.

Autre: And then drawing and painting stuck?

Levine: And then I just really started liking the drawings. Soon enough, I was doing paintings of the drawings. And while I was doing some other sculptural work, I was making small little gouache paintings…kind of like product labels and book covers. That’s where I developed a technique of tracing the image in pencil…either tracing it from something or just hand drawing with a pencil and just filling in with paint. That is kind of what I still do. I don’t really have a sophisticated painting technique.

Autre: A lot of your new works have these distinct pop art references and it’s an interesting dichotomy…can you talk a little bit about that?

Levine: That started with the image of the Malevich white painting with Superman holding up the white square. I was doing collage and I needed to do an artwork for a benefit and I was working on a college and somehow in my mind I made the connection between the cover of the very first Superman comic where he is throwing the car. I think it was 1928 or 1930. And he was throwing a car…and the car was at a very similar angle as the white square in the Malevich painting. And I just made a connection and up to that point I had never really used any pop art images in my work. In fact, I just did it as a collage.

"Through these paintings I deal with the language of talking about art. Sometimes I make it literal or I make a pun or I use humor to make a connection with the images."

Autre: Were you thinking of them as painting?

Levine: You know, I wasn’t thinking of them as paintings. I made a bunch of collages. Only later did I think to try to paint them. It grew out of the collage work.

Autre: A lot of artists throughout art history, especially 20th century art history, have declared some form as art dead. Up until the minimalists, arts were declaring that painting was dead. What can we glean from this?

Levine: You know, I am not totally against this idea. You know, maybe it is. It seems like when that happens, it opens the doors for other ways of thinking. Declaring it dead almost allows you to cast aside what was done before. Even if the art looks the same…there is an incredibly difference in the attitudes of how paintings are done now compared to how they were done in 1970 or 1960 or 1950. I think because I have done work other than painting, I don’t really think of myself as a painter in a way that some other people do…in a way that it as a distinct genre of art. I just think of it as a different form of art making.

Autre: What can we expect from your upcoming show at MAMA gallery?

Levine: I think we decided today that the show will be the collage work that generated the ideas for the Malevich, or After-Malevich paintings. After doing the initial one, I ended up printing out photocopies of as many of the supremetive paintings that I could and collaged on to them. I tried to not really limit myself to too many rules as to what I can do in this collages. But when I started painting them, I was limited to only what I felt I could paint for my skill level. But I’ve gotten much better at it and now I’m not really as limited to what I can do.

Autre: So, you will be showing collages and some of the paintings?

Levine: I will be showing collages and I have a number of paintings that I will also be showing. Through these paintings I deal with the language of talking about art. Sometimes I make it literal or I make a pun or I use humor to make a connection with the images. Or I try to use humor with the way that critics have talked about art, like Clement Greenburg. People who may have been discredited, but there is still talk of what they have done. So, a lot of what’s in my paintings is the way that I deal with the language of art and art history. But I try to make them visually interesting. You know, a lot of my most successful pieces have a little bit of a contradiction in them that causes a tension that makes them more and more interesting over time.

Robert Levine's After-Malevich opens tonight at MAMA Gallery with a reception from 6pm to 9pm and the exhibition will run until May 30th, 2015. Text, interview, photographs by Oliver Maxwell Kupper. follow Autre on Instagram to stay up to date: @autremagazine

*Installing After Malevich at MAMA Gallery.*

CATEGORIES: ART / CULTURE / MUSIC / FILM PROSE / DESIGN / FASHION

Daily Journal

Two Men Sitting: Read Our Interview of Photographer & Curator Job Piston

about 4 days ago

Find Infinitude in Callum Innes' Turn @ Sean Kelly in Los Angeles

about 4 days ago

A Look Inside Cartier's Newly Designed Boutique In South Coast Plaza Inspired By The Environs Of Southern California

about 6 days ago

Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE

Maurizio Cattelan with his interview in Autre’s SS24 Levity Issue at the opening of his first solo gallery exhibition in over two decades at @gagosian how do we make light of a violent and chaotic world? Preorder 🔗 in bio #mauriziocattelan #gagosian #sculpture

@charli_xcx in @miumiu Who Is Charli XCX? for AUTRE Levity (preorder 🔗 in bio) In an in-depth, career spanning interview @hansulrichobrist goes back to Charli’s early days of releasing demos on Myspace, dropping out of art school, the power of collaboration, unfinished projects, creating the famous driving song for the Barbie movie, her advice for young artists, and her new album. But who is Charli XCX? We also asked her friends and collaborators, from @jtfirstman to @glennmartens to @carolineplz and more, to offer clues through quotes, tweets, and behind the scenes photos. Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in bi0. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive. Photography @daveyadesida Styling @julieragolia Hair @MattBenns Makeup @rommynajor Stylist assistant Amy Bialek (@wearisamy) Design @martinmajor #charlixcx #brat #miumiu

🌎🌍🌏 EARTH DAY 🌏🌎🌍 Image of Earth Rise taken during lunar orbit, 1969. Published in our Biodiversity Issue (FW21) Earth Rise as Seen From Lunar Surface. This incredible image of the Earth rise was taken during lunar orbit by the Apollo 11 mission crew in July of 1969. The first manned lunar mission, Apollo 11 launched aboard a Saturn V launch vehicle from the Kennedy Space Center, Florida on July 16, 1969 and safely returned to Earth on July 24, 1969. The 3-man crew aboard the flight consisted of Neil A. Armstrong, commander; Michael Collins, Command Module pilot; and Edwin E. Aldrin Jr., Lunar Module pilot. courtesy NASA #earthday #earthrise #nasa

MAURIZIO CATTELAN for AUTRE LEVITY (SS24) - preorder 🔗 in bi0 - on the occasion of his inclusion in the Vatican’s Holy See Pavilion at the @venice.art.biennale and his first gallery exhibition in 20 years opening later this month at @gagosian in NYC, we speak to the legendary prankster artist about the power of Levity in art Artwork: Mother, 1999 portrait by Alberto Zanetti #mauriziocattelan #venicebiennale #holysee #vatican #pope

ADAM CURTIS AND NATALIE MERING (aka @weyesblood) IN CONVERSATION FOR AUTRE LEVITY (SS24 #18) 🔗 in bi0 For nearly forty years, the documentaries of elusive BBC journalist Adam Curtis have told us fascinating, complex stories about the disenchantment caused by the fables we tell ourselves to make sense of a violent and chaotic world. Last year, Curtis tapped into his vast trove of video archives to create the concert visuals for Weyes Blood (the moniker of critically recognized American musician Natalie Mering) to support her 2023 album And In The Darkness, Hearts Aglow. He also created the music video for the single, God Turn Me Into A Flower, a poignant track about the myth of Narcissus, but also our eternal fall into the black mirror of a technology-obsessed world. Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in bi0. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive. Featured: trailer for ALL WATCHED OVER BY MACHINES OF LOVING GRACE (2011) #adamcurtis #nataliemering #weyesblood

OTIS HOUSTON JR. BY NICK SETHI. FROM FDR DRIVE TO…. Autre is thrilled to present its S/S24 LEVITY ISSUE Issue (preord3r 🔗 in biO), a 300+ page investigation into our zeitgeist of antigravity. Multiple days in the life of NYC legend Otis Houston Jr. - over 20 pages of pure joy by @sicknethi A self-taught artist and musician, Otis Houston Jr. began making work after taking an art class while incarcerated. Since 1997, he has maintained an ongoing presence under the Triborough Bridge on the FDR Drive in New York, where he stages impromptu performances and a site-specific installation of signage and sculpture. His exhibition, All Eyes On Who?, is on view now at @gordonrobichaux Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in biO. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive (third week of April). Photographs by @sicknethi Essay by @taraanned #otishoustonjr #nyc #artist #fdrdrive

THE GREAT SPIRIT IS IN ALL THINGS. Autre is thrilled to present its S/S24 LEVITY ISSUE (preord3r 🔗 in biO), a 300+ page investigation into our zeitgeist of antigravity. Featuring our fifth cover, an original artwork by Jeffrey Gibson, the first Indigenous artist to be chosen for the United States Pavilion with a solo album exhibition at the 2024 Venice Biennale. Since the 1990s, Jeffrey Gibson has been weaving his own Native traditions and queer history with pop cultural references—particularly song titles, into kaleidoscopic textile works, paintings, videos, and performances. A member of the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians and of Cherokee descent, he is the first Indigenous artist to represent the United States with a solo presentation at the Venice Biennale. His exhibition at the US Pavilion, the space in which to place me, takes its title from Oglala Lakota poet Layli Long Soldier’s poem e Sápa. In the following interview, Nellie Scott, the director of the Corita Art Center in Los Angeles, delves into Gibson’s history-mining practice. Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in biO. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive (third week of April). #jeffreygibson #nativeamerican #indigenous #venicebiennale #venicebiennale2024

MICHELANGELO PISTOLETTO BY ALESSANDRO SARTORI. Autre is thrilled to present its S/S24 LEVITY ISSUE (preord3r 🔗 in biO), a 300+ page investigation into our zeitgeist of antigravity. Featuring our fourth cover, an in-depth profile on Arte Povera legend Michelangelo Pistoletto by Zegna artistic director @alessandrosartoriofficial with an interview by @danthawley . The legendary Italian artist discusses his life’s work from his foundation, Cittadellarte, in Biella—including the unique philosophical machinations behind his mirror paintings and the Third Paradise, a conceptual anchor for Pistoletto’s artworks and the marriage between nature and artifice, symbolized by an infinity logo. Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in biO. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive (third week of April). Photography @alessandrosartoriofficial interview by @danthawley special thanks @luhringaugustine / @cittadellarte #michelangelopistoletto #pistoletto #italy #biella #zegna #alessandrosartori #danthawley

BOTTEGA VENETA… A LOVE STORY. Autre is thrilled to present its S/S24 LEVITY ISSUE Issue (preord3r 🔗in biO), a 300+ page investigation into our zeitgeist of antigravity. Featuring our third cover, a special collaboration with Bottega Veneta by @matthieu_blazy photography by @parker__woods Across 30 pages we cast our favorite friends, actors, models and artists in an expansive editorial featuring Bottega Veneta’s SS24 collection. In line with the issue’s theme, they interpret the new weightless energy of the iconic Italian fashion house. See Akon Adichol (cover), Matthew Modine, Kandis Williams, Karon Davis, Julie Mehretu, Clairo, and more. Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in biO. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive (third week of April). Photography @parker__woods Styled by @julieragolia Casting @ben_grimes_casting Makeup @alliesmithmakeup Set design @ericmestman Assistant @wearisamy #bottegaveneta #matthieublazy #fashion

ROSE WYLIE BY JUERGEN TELLER. ⚡️Autre is thrilled to present its S/S24 LEVITY ISSUE (preord3r 🔗 in bi0), a 300+ page investigation into our zeitgeist of antigravity. Featuring almost ninety-year-old British painter Rose Wylie photographed by Juergen Teller. A nearly 40-page document of classic portraits. Interview by novelist and critic @jennifer_higgie. Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in bi0. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive (third week of April). Photography Juergen Teller Creative Partner @doviledrizyte Special thanks @davidzwirner Postproduction: Lucas Rios Palazesi at Quickfix #rosewylie #juergenteller #magazine #issue #ss24

WHO IS CHARLI XCX? Autre is thrilled to present its S/S24 LEVITY ISSUE Issue (preord3r 🔗 in bi0), a 300+ page investigation into our zeitgeist of antigravity. Featuring genre defying pop phenom @charli_xcx on the occasion of her upcoming album BRAT. In an in-depth, career spanning interview @hansulrichobrist goes back to Charli’s early days of releasing demos on Myspace, dropping out of art school, the power of collaboration, unfinished projects, creating the famous driving song for the Barbie movie, her advice for young artists, and her new album. But who is Charli XCX? We also asked her friends and collaborators, from @jtfirstman to @glennmartens to @carolineplz and more, to offer clues through quotes, tweets, and behind the scenes photos. Preord3r the issue now by clicking the 🔗 in bi0. All preord3rs come with a full digital preview delivered to your inbox immediately after checkout while you wait for the print edition to arrive (third week of April). Photography @daveyadesida Styling @julieragolia Hair @MattBenns Makeup @rommynajor Stylist assistant Amy Bialek (@wearisamy) Design @martinmajor #charlixcx #autremagazine #levity #eclipse #light

Gaetano Pesce (1939–2024) “The time of copies is behind us. We are in a time of originals.” Very sad to hear the news of Pesce’s passing, a legendary architect and designer with a meteoric influence on design, both in practice and theory. He was featured in our Utopia issue (SS23) alongside other giants of the Italian Radical Design movement. His work was deeply political and revolutionary—even a simple chair was an act of resistance. Portraits by @noua_unu #gaetanopesce #design #architecture

April Fools! What we thought were a new pair of AirPods is actually an invite to @mschf ‘s upcoming exhibition at @perrotin LA. The logo with two bites out the apple should have given it away, even the receipt was convincing, and the AirPods are actually edible. @mschf Art 2 opens April 6th #mschf #bigredboots #airpods #edible #aprilfools

Scenes from SPLAT by Bobbi Salvör Menuez @hi_its_bobbi a one night only sensory play party in NYC. No cameras allowed - only a live feed titled macrophilic installation resembling a giant mouth titled I’m Big, You’re Small. See more on www.autre.love #bobbimenuez #play #party #installation #art

&hearts;️ to Mohammed Ahmed and @casamagazinesnyc happy retirement ! Thanks for the tremendous support over the years &hearts;️ seen here pictured with our first John Waters cover in 2019

#mohammedahmed #casamagazines

♥️ to Mohammed Ahmed and @casamagazinesnyc happy retirement ! Thanks for the tremendous support over the years ♥️ seen here pictured with our first John Waters cover in 2019 #mohammedahmed #casamagazines