Elsa Rouy

Posted on 20 de October de 202312 de March de 2024 by nr

NR 18 Personal Investigation · Autumn Winter 2023
Published · Print Page 032

Feature · Elsa Rouy
Words · Matthew Burgos

An artistic metaphysical surgeon

Grotesque bodies writhing in pain, catharsis, and even brief relief emerge in the artworks of Elsa Rouy. She is fascinated by the way bodies behave as vessels as if the form humans inhabit were once empty containers now filled with external impurities. In her paintings, the young British artist dissects women figuratively and literally. Blood and flesh intertwine, and their vivid shock and detailed stupor are brought out by every brush stroke. Eyes far apart, wet hair, dripping fluids, a cut-up chest, an eye coming out of the labia, entangled bodies, and complex, undefined, and intricate emotions to be unpacked and explored. These paintings unravel the mystic center of all kinds of emotions, anatomizing them until their influential power and how they come to play in daily life seep through and become known.

Elsa’s themed focus undulates too. There is an evolution in how she approaches her art, and it is evident in her recent paintings and their more pronounced technical elements. Her earlier works ooze abstraction with enough visual cues to pinpoint who the figures are (take her mother and child series where, for example, she explored the concept of bodily fluids and motherhood). Recently, her paintings take a darker route, a sharper solid state, and a more emblematic yet relatable spin on emotions. A temporary shying away from the diaphanous bodies of women, her artworks employ female forms as a medium of absurdity that hopes to make viewers feel unsettled. A gnawing feeling digs into their emotions as they gaze at the paintings, trying to pull themselves away from her artworks yet already too deep into Elsa’s world for them to let go.

In a conversation with NR, Elsa revisits the themes she explores, attempts to define the abstruse emotions that flow from her to her artworks, and reflects on her paintings as a gateway to who she is; the “metaphysical surgeon” moniker someone calls her; and the parts of herself she is still yet to unravel.

Matthew Burgos: I want to start our conversation from the beginning. Can you tell me about your introduction to the art world, paintings in general, and any personal experiences that made an impact on your artistic journey?

Elsa Rouy: I’ve always been into art, and it’s something I’ve done since I was a child. It makes sense for the trajectory of pursuing it as a career as an adult. There have been a couple of times that changed my view on how I approach art. When I went to college, I started seeing it as both a career and a hobby. This perspective became stronger in university. Thematically, my artwork is a development from childhood. I’ve always channeled my emotional experiences into a creative process, mainly through drawing and writing since I was a child. As I’ve grown older, this has become more prominent, extending into poetry and painting, exploring other art forms. Now, I’m working on this idea, but with the awareness to critically engage with concepts and consider their reaction to an audience rather than just myself.

Matthew Burgos: Would you say you grew up in an artistic environment?

Elsa Rouy: Yes, it was definitely encouraged. I think my parents weren’t artists or involved in the arts, but my mom used to draw sometimes, and whenever we did something creative, we were always encouraged to make things and draw. Doing anything with our hands was never discouraged. So I think it was a healthy environment where we were allowed to grow artistically.

Matthew Burgos: Were you conscious of the themes that you wanted to explore in your artworks?

Elsa Rouy: No, I don’t. I’ve always liked drawing the body, but I think it was only recently that I started to think deeply about it. It developed through my studies, but it’s only been in the last year that I’ve honed in on what I want to explore with my artwork and try to do that with precision, rather than just painting whatever comes to my head.

Matthew Burgos: But did you go through that process? Did you experience a time when you dabbled in so many themes, trying to figure out what you wanted to focus on?

Elsa Rouy: Yes – I think this happens a lot with everyone where you go off on different routes. There were definitely points where I was trying to make more explicitly political artworks or ones that were less overtly sexual, and maybe more about the ordinary, but I realized that I was interested in this idea of using the body as a vessel and manipulating it to express emotions and explore the brutality of the human condition. So, that’s what I want to focus on rather than trying to go down these other routes.

Matthew Burgos: Do you think there’s a spiritual context going on with this artistic thought?

Elsa Rouy: I guess so. I’ve never thought of it as spirituality, but I guess it could be in a way because I’m looking into emotions, and there’s a lot to do with, as I always said, about the body being this vessel, this container, and the idea of having these emotions and the existence that we have within it, the containment, and then the leaking out of it, and how we try to contain everything emotionally, but it doesn’t work. And that’s why I’m interested in the fluids coming out and the breaking of the body to signify this false sense of containment that we try to have. So I guess it could be spiritual in that sense, but I don’t think I do stuff for very spiritual reasons.

Matthew Burgos: What are these emotions that we’re talking about?

Elsa Rouy: It’s quite difficult to explain. So it’s not one emotion. It’s trying to look at the intensity of different emotions. They could be like despair or destructive emotions, or maybe even softer emotions like happiness. But then it’s taking them to the limit of complete chaos, basically. And I think a lot of the time inside, it can feel like that, and it’s trying to find the balance between the soft emotions and the brutal emotions. It’s hard to pinpoint which ones because it’s a different range. I guess they used to look a lot at shame, but I’ve moved away from that now, and it’s more of an exploration of different emotions.

Matthew Burgos: Are these emotions that you personally firsthand experience, or ones that you want to focus on in your art?

Elsa Rouy: I think it’s a bit of both. So it’s going back to what I said at the beginning where a lot of it’s taken from emotions that I feel. Then I write poetry, and it would normally be in the moment, get a couple of sentences out. And it’s the same when I come up with an idea for a painting. This image will start forming, but then I go back to them and from a non-emotional point or mindset, I change them. So it’s more like observing the emotions from a distance rather than them being chaotic.

Matthew Burgos: You’ve mentioned before that your works are a visual portrayal of mixed emotions, very complicated and hard to define. But at the same time, you set boundaries between you and your work because, at the end of the day, you’re not your work. But you also added that self-reflection is part of your work and that painting allows you to reflect on your emotions. When does this process of using paintings as your medium start and end, and how do you separate yourself from your art?

Elsa Rouy: I think when I said that I’m not my artwork, I meant it in a quite literal way. When I get criticisms or if I get frustrated with an artwork, I don’t see the artwork as myself, and I try not to let it affect me so directly. It’s not like somebody is attacking me as a person if something goes wrong with the painting or if somebody doesn’t like it or gives a critique. I don’t take it as a personal attack. But I think with the actual artwork itself and myself, it’s a blurred line. And I don’t think there’s ever a clear separation. It’s difficult because when you do it every day and you’re constantly thinking about it, it kind of becomes part of yourself.

I was thinking about this question earlier when you asked me, and the best way I can describe it, it may sound pretentious, but it’s like myself and my artwork seem holistic. All the artworks that I’ve made before and the ones I’m making, as well as the ones in the future, seem to already exist in my head as a space, but not physically. So I think there is a detachment from the physical artworks, but the creative process, the ideas, and the concepts that form them are very ingrained in me. They’re constantly there, and I’m constantly picking them in my head, trying to figure out what I want to do, referencing what I want in the future with my artwork, or what I want in the past and trying to make that now. It’s like they coexist in a plane, and they’re webbed together. There’s probably no escaping being fused with my artwork now, but on a mental level, not physical.

Matthew Burgos: Do you continue the themes that you worked on in the past, or do you prefer to explore new ones and inject nuances of the past themes?

Elsa Rouy: It depends on the theme. Some are recurring, which is natural in my practice and life. But I also leave behind themes that no longer feel important or have reached their limit in exploration. However, even the themes I leave behind still inform the ones I want to explore now. For example, I used to focus on grotesque women and their bodies, but now I use the female form to create absurdity and make people uncomfortable in a different way. So there’s an evolution in how I approach certain themes.

Matthew Burgos: I came across your series where you conceived artworks related to bodily fluids and mothers, and looking at these paintings, how did you correlate these two?

Elsa Rouy: The first theme I explored was about containment and expulsion of the body. Initially, I focused on bodily fluids explosively leaving the body, but now I examine them as leaking or coming out. Whereas before, it was more like violent explosions. Pregnancy and giving birth represent a similar idea, with the body as a container releasing something in a chaotic and violent manner. Both themes touch on the delicate balance between life and death. The expulsion of body fluids can signify dying or illness, while giving birth is about bringing life into the world but also carries risks of death and health issues. To me, these themes have similar meanings as images. The mother figure was significant because it relates to a personal aspect. I used to have fears about becoming a mother, but I’ve now overcome them. When I painted these images, it was like a weird compulsive thing to shift this idea.

Matthew Burgos: What qualities come to your mind when you think of the words mother and child?

Elsa Rouy: The qualities I explore in my artwork related to the mother and child theme are both self-evident and multifaceted. On one hand, it’s about ideas of nurture and protection, creating a safe environment for growth and survival. However, I also delve deeper into the notion of the mother as a safe space while the baby represents something strange and potentially scary that the mother may reject. It’s about examining these complex dynamics.

As for the child, I see them as innocent, fresh, and malleable. They embody a sense of purity as they haven’t been influenced by external factors yet. At that stage, they just exist as a being, growing and learning without the complexities of language and cognitive processes. It’s like witnessing the pure essence of human existence before the complexities of life come into play.

Matthew Burgos: Can you describe your relationship with your mother?

Elsa Rouy: We’re very close, and I consider her one of my best friends! She’s actually visiting me at the moment.

Matthew Burgos: That’s great to hear! And about your recent artworks, you depict a lot of transfigured feminine bodies that exude a wide range of emotions. It made me wonder if these paintings portray psychological dilemmas or distress experienced by the subjects, and if the use of body and nudity serves as a medium to express these emotions. Could you provide some insight into the world that inspired you to create these images? What kind of environment did you immerse yourself in, and what did you envision while visualizing these artworks?

Elsa Rouy: Yes, my recent artworks explore points of emotional brutality. I use the body as a vessel and manipulate and distort it, completely objectifying it until it becomes uncanny and uncomfortable. This allows it to express intense and palpable emotions. I set up scenes with doll-like figures to awkwardly express these feelings. I prefer the snapshots of moments in the paintings because I’m fascinated by the spaces in between things. The slightly abstracted, broken, and distorted bodies create tension, leaving gaps for the audience to interpret and create narratives in their minds. There’s no predefined narrative; the bodies are like puppets placed in a scenery for the audience. The distressed and distorted faces evoke personal emotions in people, making them feel connected and touched. It’s interesting to use the body in a cruel and brutal way to bring out vulnerable and soft emotions in ourselves.

Matthew Burgos: And you did quite visually and literally dissected the body in one of your paintings. Was it a way for you to metaphorically look into the person or explore who that person is?

Elsa Rouy: Yeah, I think so. The figures are all somewhat based on me, so it’s like breaking the person to find what’s inside. Someone recently described me as a metaphysical surgeon, and I thought it was funny and accurate. It’s weird, but that’s kind of what I do. I never thought of it that way before, but it makes sense. I liked that idea. I’m like, “This is great. I’m going to run with this.” Especially because I want to explore more about blood and the concept of small cuts on the body. It fits well with these ideas. But yeah, it was funny.

Matthew Burgos: I’m wondering if you like horror and gory movies?

Elsa Rouy: If it’s done well, yes, but I like more stylistic ones. I’m not the biggest fan of slasher movies, but I like ones that are more campy eighties ones with the prosthetics and all of that. I went to see Men (2022) with my friends at the cinema, and there’s this scene of a weird rebirth from a man’s body, with grown men coming out of a vagina and everything. And as soon as it happened, all of my friends at the cinema looked at me. I sort of liked that part – the scene, I mean.

Matthew Burgos: Are there things about yourself that you want to know and/or learn more about?

Elsa Rouy: I want to explore everything! I want to discover new things that I genuinely enjoy and are exciting. There are so many activities and experiences I haven’t tried yet, and I believe they could bring a lot of joy into my life. So, I’m eager to find out what I truly like and expand my horizons. I’m interested in getting back into dancing. I used to do it when I was younger, but now maybe try a different style. Um, on the other hand, gardening seems intriguing. Whenever I see videos of it, it looks so calm and relaxing. I’ve never tried it, but it seems like a nice activity to explore.

Matthew Burgos: Even if you have a lot of things to explore, a lot of things that you want to learn more, do you feel connected to yourself or do you feel like you have to learn more about who you are?

Elsa Rouy: Thinking about it now, there are times when I feel connected to myself, for sure. It fluctuates; sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I see it as a learning process, and it’s natural for it to go up and down throughout life, which makes it interesting. You think you know yourself, and then suddenly you realize that you don’t. It keeps life entertaining and exciting.

But I notice I feel very in touch with myself when I’m using my mind and body together, like when I’m painting. The cognitive movement of my body and the thoughts work in harmony, and in those moments, I feel like myself. On the other hand, there are times when I don’t have control over my body, like when I’m on my period or when I’m ill. In those moments, I feel grounded and deeply connected to my humanity and my body. My brain isn’t preoccupied with self-concepts; it’s more focused on the physicality of the body. And I think that’s when I feel most connected to myself.

Matthew Burgos: And how do you feel today?

Elsa Rouy: I feel pretty good actually. No crazy emotions going on today, but who knows – it could be different tomorrow.

Credits

A FACE WHEN LOVED, 2023
DANCING ON BROKEN ANKLES, 2023
Artworks courtesy of the artist.

Rae Klein

Posted on 20 de October de 202312 de March de 2024 by nr

NR 18 Personal Investigation · Autumn Winter 2023
Published · Print Page 038

Feature · Rae Klein
Words · Billy De Luca

A Fraying Blur

At first glance: Things held within a cloud of pale air.

At second glance…

Rae Klein is tough. She has built a body of work that has received considerable praise. She was born in Michigan and is still there, working with a rhythm is respectable and representative of her success in recent years. Today, her role in this relationship is simple: she keeps producing. However, there is nothing desultory about this method. What Klein does is focus on the essential element of her life. Klein has always drawn but hasn’t always worked in oils. Before attaining her BFA, she planned to become a nurse. Before covering gallery walls, she shipped paintings out of her garage. Now, she has a studio. Oh, and she paints.

Folds and pleats of curtains separate from tense formality. Her constructions confront yet refrain from congesting the scene (they reference without any upturned noses or scoffs). The closest you’ll get to old-school is a bunch of candles resembling Corinthian columns or caryatids. Still, they are unsupported and unlikely to raise too many analogies to the ‘art of old’ — they are also clearly paintings of candles and candelabras. The source material is deliberate, and she paints it big and small.

The larger works are considered and organised by preliminary work. Smaller works are usually unplanned and texturally emotive, “If I’m going to sit down and do a painting, I’m going straight in, and I want to know that I can get it done in the session. I don’t want to get back to it later.” However, Klein’s paintings interreact simultaneously on both scales. Vector lines are established, and intense colours are formed. Pallid clouds interact with pairs of eyes in a spiralling stare. In the studio, she pulls up a painting with a horse head from the desk, and it immediately forms fantasies with a luminous white glow, breaking with the background through a plunged brush and sharp contrast. She makes paintings that can absorb hours of looking and hours of reading. As such, she leaves the sensuous appreciation to the viewer, briefing through a blur. Outlines are near perfect, sometimes muddied and obscured like a forest in fog. She restricts the number of brushes she uses, how long she works on her paintings, and how many finished works are produced in a month.

All in oils, the pigments bleed down like dyes, revealing painted imagery — or, more accurately, echoes of images — sourced from eBay, thrift or antique stores. Then, they are translated, and soon layers are raked in, and blue skies wrap backgrounds like Sistine Frescoes. Using a soft brush solvent for highlights and bursts of light (looking like lens flares from a JJ Abrahams film), Klein creates these marks by melting the paint while running the brush through the surface. The thinner paint draws (using a round brush) a glossy line or carves down (using a Filbert brush) to show the canvas base. “It’s just as important to move paint off the canvas as it is to put it on,” says Klein. The ground comes through like white tree roots, shining with a subtle radiancy. Like cutting away at curtains rather than parting them. But you can still see the paint, just differently.

Contemplating her practice, Klein observes her work through a tinted window, seeing a bit of herself inside but remaining outward-looking. Klein is introspective in her description yet makes her way across canvases with a tender distance. She’s focusing on the work and the process. In other words, she’s honest. She’s tough.

Billy De Luca: This is an early morning chat. It is 9:00 am. Where are we?

Rae Klein: In East Michigan. I live and work in a town called Grass Lake. It’s an hour south of Lansing (Michigan’s capital) and an hour north of Detroit. It’s like a village.

Billy De Luca: Have you always lived and had a studio here?

Rae Klein: No. I grew up across the State. Kind of by the lake, in Holland, Michigan. After school I moved, and I had been working from my garage in a town called Stockbridge for the past two years. I moved homes and the studio here in October 2022. It’s a cheap place to live, and it’s small.

Billy De Luca: And that must have been during the pandemic too. Did that affect the scale of your work?

Rae Klein: In those days, they were a lot smaller. They went from about 40 inches to now much bigger. My new studio’s ceiling is about 12 feet (four meters).

Billy De Luca: Does it feel better to have a gallery not to stress about the administrator?

Rae Klein: Oh yeah, absolutely. Shipping was always a doozy. Now a couple of dudes show up and pack ’em up. And that’s it. I think I just have to be there. So that’s amazing.

Billy De Luca: Do you stretch the canvases yourself? What makes them so smooth and glossy?

Rae Klein: No, I have a guy in Detroit who makes the canvases, and then I prime them myself. The canvases are all linen. I used to work on larger grain linen, but now I’m switching to a smaller grain. You can get a lot more detail that way. And the glossiness comes from the varnish. I varnish all the works so that I don’t touch them when they are done. Paintings can be overdone so quickly. It takes a lot of self-discipline to let it be the way it is. Some of them are smooth sailing. Others are ‘problem children’. The ones that are more of a struggle involve more problem-solving. I put them in a ‘time-out’ pile I have in the studio of works that are sitting. Eventually, I figure it out. That’s one of the fun parts of working: when it clicks. Then, knowing what to do.

Billy De Luca: How do you find painting in oils? Does it force you to have patience?

Rae Klein: All the work up here in the studio is drying…waiting. The oils help. But I still get impatient, and mistakes happen. I’m trying to apply a technique for controlling errors. Some mistakes will cause beautiful results, especially with textures and colours. But other mistakes have to be sorted into the ‘do not make again’ pile, for instance, getting perspectives wrong and disturbing the image or technical stuff like messing up the surface while priming. Learning to control my mistakes is a big part of improving.

Billy De Luca: And when it comes to your colour selection, do you create your own palette of pigments, or do you mix it up a lot?

Rae Klein: I do a lot of mixing. I’m really into earth tones, but it depends. If something is more mechanical and doesn’t have people, animals, or candles, it probably won’t beg for earth tones. But with my paintings that feature more organic matter, I’m squeezing those browns in!

Billy De Luca: And what makes you select your imagery and subject matter?

Rae Klein: That’s always been a tough one to answer. Basically, I think that they are just things I like. That feel timeless. I’m also now realising that they are also liminal: they could be from any place at any time. I think that’s interesting to play with.

Billy De Luca: You’re right, temporally communal. They are not bordered by specific contextual zones like Jasper Johns’ American Flag or a Gerhardt Richter scene of Paris. It’s tailored to a broader audience.

Rae Klein: And it’s not that I’m trying to cast a wide net. I’m glad I’m not thinking about that when I’m painting, but I do like the idea of having people relate to the imagery as if they might have seen it before. In the design phase, when constructing a painting, I’m looking for it to be a little new to me. I’m always trying to play around with it. I want it to strike me as if I’ve just discovered something. I think how I sketch them allows me to play with the idea a lot. The more rigid paintings are constructed much more like collages, and that’s also where I get some excitement. For some paintings, I just sit down and…do. And that’s a whole other thing. When it comes to the physical act, it has a lot to do with texture. It is equally important to fill the painting with exciting textures and marry it with itself. I get several types of enjoyment from different processes.

Billy De Luca: So, one process generates novelty, and the other comes naturally. Would you say that’s how you started making art?

Rae Klein: When I started painting, I was adding a lot of detail to the work. I felt like excitement would come from being very descriptive. Now I’m trying to see if I can leave more out. Like, what if I could just paint a curtain in an exciting and impactful way but also in a way that doesn’t involve planning out the whole scene? I think the exciting part for me right now is saying more with less. That’s the broad journey.

Billy De Luca: I love that. It’s interesting how acts of omission can further the quality of a work. And when you do it well, it feels much better. Like when somebody finds something interesting in your work that you didn’t have in a CV or portfolio.

Rae Klein: Yes! And I’m trying to apply that to my figures. I almost want them not to be a specific person. I want them to be a representation of a person. It doesn’t need a face or even eyes. It can be just one thing. I like setting the tone with objects.

Billy De Luca: I also noted that the smaller paintings involve outlines that come over and into the surface, like a finger through wet sand. They streak into the layers, muddying the paint and allowing the earth tones to spring up. Is that an example of a finishing touch or how your paintings are conducted within a session?

Rae Klein: Oh yeah, that’s both. I use a brush for that, and it’s very difficult to do on the large ones because it takes so much time to fill in an area. And it has to be done last because it marries the background and the foreground. The blend happens within the shapes and layers. I go over an area with the paint from the background to the main subject to ‘cohesify’ the image. Sometimes it creates a more interesting pattern, colour or line; other times, I let the lines show to avoid overworking the painting.

Billy De Luca: What do you think gets people interested? Like a profound experience of art. Do you think people can just as quickly struggle to accept your work?

Rae Klein: When somebody tells me that it makes them cry. That’s when I’ve done a good job with the painting. I’m in Michigan, so most of my interaction with people besides openings is through Instagram. People are all surprisingly friendly. If they leave a comment, it’s supportive. But there have been times when somebody will go, “So, this is art?” But I don’t take my paintings seriously. I’m not heartbroken if that happens. I’m interested in how people see it.

Billy De Luca: So you are removed from your work?

Rae Klein: I think so, yeah. I don’t keep them. Once I’m done painting a work, it has done its job for me. Once it is done, it can go in a pile. The enjoyment comes from making it and learning, not the final result it extracts. I mean, I’m proud of them, but it is not like I am going to keep them. There are always more nuances to learn that come with painting. And they keep coming! So, it’s better to focus on learning and improving.

Billy De Luca: Has the way you’ve produced changed over time? You just got back from your honeymoon. How was it being away from the studio?

Rae Klein: I took a week and a half off. And I was like…WOW, what’s going on? I just love to paint. If I have free time, I think I could be painting. I just love it.Usually, I’m pretty consistent. It has been stable for the past two years, but the period in which I worked is now widening; when I started, I would ask myself what I could do on the day, and now it’s more about what I can do in the month and how I can plan the next six months. It was interesting because I have always had a schedule, and when I started supporting myself with my work, I would make paintings available every month or two. That schedule is different in the timespan from the gallery schedule, so it has changed, and I’m structuring it a lot more.

Billy De Luca: And who would you say is your toughest critic?

Rae Klein: Good question. The gallery has really helped me grow and become comfortable with talking about my work. Nicodim is great because they are selective with their artists, but I still have creative control. It’s not always like that with other galleries. When it comes to advice, I think it’s probably my husband. I go to him with a problem, and he’ll be honest, and that’s good.

Billy De Luca: What affects your style?

Rae Klein: My method involves a lot of images too, and they are mostly found. I get a lot from that. Then comes the process of making it interesting for myself. I think style is ever-evolving and something that’s in the rear-view mirror. I figure it will continue to change since I’m on a learning journey, and that’s where the enjoyment is for me. Looking back, it seems pretty fluid, but I’ve been told it is pretty consistent. Some people see it that way, but I see it differently.

Billy De Luca: What would be something you’d always like to keep in your paintings? Is there more to add?

Rae Klein: The first thing that comes to mind is that I don’t see the dogs or the horses going away. I’ve been drawing horses since I was a little kid. I wasn’t a ‘horse girl’ but I did love horses. As a kid, I wasn’t allowed anywhere near horses, so I had to draw them. I used to paint cars, and as I learned more, I realised it wouldn’t fit, and those got phased out. I don’t think how I get images or anything like that will change. That’s always been pretty consistent. I do want to keep up with technology, though. Trying to learn about AI generation and digital resources is very important, especially how to use that stuff. If you start to fear it, it can cause stagnation in learning, especially since that is where the momentum is taking us. So I’m concerning myself with that right now, and it’s definitely interesting to learn about. I don’t see myself integrating these new things very often, but I want to be aware of them and know how I could use them if I wanted, without having any judgement. I’m looking to coexist.

Credits

GEMINI,2021
IS THERE A BETTER MAN THAN I, 2023
SONDRA IV, 2023
CASCADES II, 2021
All artworks courtesy of Rae Klein and Nicodim Gallery

MoMA Ready

Posted on 20 de October de 202312 de March de 2024 by nr

NR 18 Personal Investigation · Autumn Winter 2023
Published · Print Page 030

Feature · MoMA Ready
Words · Arielle Lana Le Jarde

MoMA Ready Is Vouching For Himself

MoMA Ready doesn’t care about keeping up with the perceived glamor of electronic music. He just wants to be able to show up in a white tee and black sweats to work, and that’s exactly what he’s sporting when he shows up to The Lot Radio to meet with NR Magazine on a sunny Thursday afternoon, and that’s what he feels comfortable wearing when he’s DJing all over the world.

He’s ultra laidback while he tells his story. He takes his time rolling a blunt and gets too distracted to take a puff as he narrates the moments of trauma and heartbreak that led to where he is today. The producer is from Newburgh, New York — a place with one of the highest crime rates in America.

“I’m from a fucking horrible environment,” he said. “I’m not from a nice neighborhood in the suburbs. I got to art school because I’m talented.” He studied filmmaking in New York City’s School of Visual Arts before fully pivoting to music in his final year. Soon thereafter, the artist—born Wyatt Stevens—stepped into becoming MoMA Ready.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Does filmmaking play a part in your production process at all?

MoMA Ready: I have a very visual brain like in full color. Very visual. I can see everything I think about. But I’ve always been multi-faceted. I got into art school with a four-legged portfolio. I was doing video work, graphic design, photography, and fine art. But I felt like filmmaking was a medium where I can express all those factors.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Do you feel like coming from a working class background and not having the same resources as other students in school informs the choice to stay an independent producer?

MoMA Ready: Yeah, but I think it more so comes from not wanting to be told what to do. I would love resources. But even when things have benefited me, if people are trying to tell me what to do, there’s a part of me that’s instantly like, “Fuck off.” I have a rebellious nature, but not in the traditional sense. I’m not edgy and I don’t have a desire to be provocative. I’m not trying to shock and awe. I just don’t necessarily want to have to present myself a certain way in order to be successful. Why sacrifice my integrity if I don’t have to? I’ve gotten this far. I’ve accomplished a lot.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: How old are you anyway?

MoMA Ready: I just turned 30. What about you?

Arielle Lana LeJarde: I turn 29 next month. I see kids coming up in the scene and they’re like 19, so I feel like we’re old.

MoMA Ready: I feel like our generation is the most important generation. I like to think of us as a bridge between this old version of society and this new version of society. Older millennials are the reason why social media exists. So I have zero shame about being this age. I’m the perfect age because I have this knowledge that this older world exists.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Speaking of the older generation, we just learned the heartbreaking news that DJ Deeon died today. How did he inspire you and your music?

MoMA Ready: It shouldn’t be a thing where people like DJ Deeon and Paul Johnson are passing away from health issues. People who are pioneers should be as taken care of as well as big headliners. It puts a lot of things into question for me and I think a lot of people treat this as symptoms of how they feel about the people that benefit. Because of the narratives that have been spun out of capitalism and white supremacy in these spaces, the wrong people end up suffering.

DJ Deeon, and other people from his graduating class, created the foundation of the movement that my friends and I have created, and are even able to stand on. Deeon was one of the OGs that embraced us. He embraced all of us on an individual level. And he was supportive. There’s a lot of animosity for younger generations and he was never on that type of time. It’s sad. I wish I could have seen him live one last time.

DJ Deeon is a big influence on myself and my friends in the rhythms and everything that we do. So losing one of my main influences is hard. There’s not going to be someone that comes along and fills it. And I don’t have to say this just to give him respect because he passed away. He was that before he passed. All of this just solidifies his legacy.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Why do you think some people in the older generation of producers and DJs aren’t as accepting?

MoMA Ready: I want to blame them because they’re adults, right? But it’s not their fault. They’re mad at me—or whoever that they’re angry at—because of the structures that I just mentioned. Not because of us.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: When did you start producing anyway?

MoMA Ready: I really started experimenting with producing around 2013, but I had tried way before that. It wasn’t really about making music until 2016, when I experienced things in my personal life that made it hard to focus. Music was the only thing that kept me grounded.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: What happened in 2016?

MoMA Ready: I was a victim of violence. I was suckerpunched downtown and the person broke my face. They kicked me in my face and I almost died. That’s why I have a metal plate in my face. It just made me recoil because a bunch of people that were supposed to be cool with me didn’t help me at all.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: A lot of your career surrounds your collaborations and your friends. How did you learn to trust people again?

MoMA Ready: Things in my life tend to resolve themselves pretty aggressively and serendipitously, so I learned to embrace that. I learned to take those steps on those serendipitous stones. There were also certain people that became consistent in my life and I just realized that nobody was out to get me. I have people I work with, I have my friends, and we all luckily can keep pace with each other. So I’ve tried to take advantage of the blessings that I have.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: With being in AceMoMA and having a close group of friends who are all equally as prominent, do you ever struggle with wanting to just be recognised as a standalone artist?

MoMA Ready: Hell yeah! I’m very vocal about it. I’m super honest and a very transparent person. I’ve even spoken to AceMo about it and all my friends. None of us would work if we weren’t singular artists. We all have to have individual careers. It’s important. But my problem was, I was putting my work into everyone else, so everybody started outpacing me in a way that made me wonder what I can do. I started just focusing on myself.

I recently went through a breakup that made me ask myself, “Who am I outside of other people?” I put myself into a lot of people. Then, I started vouching for myself because I realized nobody else is going to do it. What I contributed to the local space in New York, based on the proximity of being near me—because of my label, my compilations, and my efforts. I don’t give a fuck if it sounds cringe, but I’m owed. And I’m taking it now.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: What do you want people to know about MoMA Ready and what do you want people to know about Wyatt Stevens?

MoMA Ready: MoMA Ready is a persona. Don’t think that because you listen to my music that you know me at all. And it’s not because I’m trying to not know you. It’s more so that you need to approach me as someone that you don’t know. I understand that, especially with the way that I am on social media, I’ve built a lot of parasocial connections with my fan base. I answer their questions. A lot of artists are very like yeah, I’ll let you know what’s weird. Like forever. I feel like because I’m so honest with people in these questionnaires like people feel like they have a literal relationship with me.

About Wyatt Stevens? I’m a complete human being.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: How would you describe the New York City dance music scene and what is your part in it?

MoMA Ready: Shit. It’s a special place right now. New York City dance culture is now what people used to think it was. Nightlife has always been happening here, but I think as far as dance music is concerned, I want to say it’s never been like this anywhere in the country. I’m probably definitely wrong, and some old head is going to think I don’t know what I’m talking about. But for my generation, we’re doing a really good job of maintaining the culture and being expressive and making sure that the real is still here. I’m thankful to be a catalyst in that. I know I’m not the only one, but goddammit, I’m a big one.

Credits

Photography · Sam McKenna

Kate Ahn

Posted on 20 de October de 202312 de March de 2024 by nr

NR 18 Personal Investigation · Autumn Winter 2023
Published · Print Page 016

Feature · Kate Ahn
Words · Billy De Luca

It’s Shock Therapy, Baby

Jasper Johns once said, ‘Hollywood is forever young, forever sexy and forever swollen with abundance.’ This makes sense when looking at the figures in Kate Ahn’s paintings.

However, abundance in these works is qualified by searing faces and billowing forms stretching across the image and twisting in the frame. They are abundant in mixed yet meaningful messages, pained and charmed. Painting in series, Ahn depicts herself in varying stages of movement. Nearly always nude. The relevance of this nudity is open to interpretation. Still, Ahn’s subjects bring to life the late critic John Berger’s words, ‘Nakedness reveals itself. Nudity is placed on display. The nude is condemned to never being naked. Nudity is a form of dress.’

These figures are not just nude but clothed in meaning. They are overcorrections, pronounced perfectionism with an outcome of exaggerated beauty. A swagger of confidence sways on a bed, bounding between big buttcheeks and long legs, wavering between buoyant breasts and the torrential currents of bedsheet and brick wall. These forms are idealisations, idylls of what could be. They are powerful, exposed, fearless, and nuanced in nakedness, fiercely facing everything with glowing skin and stripy socks.

Ahn is in Los Angeles. She grew up on the United States West Coast and has lived there for most of her life. In recent times, Ahn’s paintings have developed an ethereal strength. She discusses her work and artistic intentions are spread across the social and physical dermis of expressive geography. Ahn’s world is mapped around acrylic paint and produces figures that produce shock therapy that will force any white wall into submission. And they are also nude, but that’s only half the story.

Billy De Luca: You are in LA right now. Did you just have a show there?

Kate Ahn: I had a show downtown at Gallerie Murphy — it’s an extension gallery of Terminal 27 on Beverly Blvd — and they just opened. I was there for one month, which was a great experience. It was very emotional for me because I sacrificed a lot for this show. It was almost 2 years of work, it was everything I had in me.

Billy De Luca: The commercial gallery scene can be terrifying. But having that proximity in LA must have been great. Did it get overwhelming having such access to your exhibited works?

Kate Ahn: Oh, no, I was even there after the opening a few times. I was so much a part of everything. From the paintings to the merchandise with Terminal27 and just the gallery preparation itself, I was there at every step.

Sometimes it is hard to collaborate and find people to take up your vision, but when there is synergy and trust, things always turn out beautifully. I also enjoyed being in the gallery to say hi to whoever came by.

Billy De Luca: That can be a very personal experience. It changes the context when you see the person who painted the image before you. And how come you liked the collaborative aspect?

Kate Ahn: I like it, but I also think it can be challenging and sometimes divisive. I feel like I am also thinking about the audience and what the general public can digest each time I collaborate. As an artist, when you create your work, you can really just go all in. I don’t think about whether everyone will love it, but you have to consider that in collaborations.

Having that restriction is also nice because It makes you think outside the box. You have to please other people and yourself; it allows me to have my art in many mediums. It isn’t just up on a wall: It can travel and transform into many different objects and forms, which is super exciting too. I try to do as much as possible within my freedom, but sometimes you can’t go completely explicit – for example, on a pair of shoes.

Billy De Luca: Finding that balance must have taken time. When did you start painting and getting into the fashion side of the arts? Did the transition help with selling your ‘ideas’ to the world?

Kate Ahn: I’ve been painting since I was 6, but I’ve also been into fashion since I was in my mother’s womb. A lot of it came from her. She’s always loved fashion and the arts and was the first person to introduce me to these worlds. From the outside, we are like complete opposites. But actually, I’d say there are more similarities than differences. I have this feeling that my mother sees me as a reflection of herself. Deep down, she’s secretly cheering me on and healing her inner child through me – even though she’ll NEVER admit to that haha. It’s like she’s looking at a mirror to see what she could’ve been (if all the rules and societal pressures didn’t alter or make her afraid of what she really wanted to do). I think I am my mother, and she is me.

But back to fashion haha. She definitely appreciates the design and artistic aspects of fashion, but I think she, just like many other people, is also attracted to the idea of class status that is prevalent in that world. This is where I’d like to think we differ: I love the art of fashion, but sometimes it can feel a little like high school. Personally, I don’t care about what’s most popular this season, who’s seated where, and what somebody is wearing at a show. Although I understand the allure, I just enjoy what makes me feel good based on my own narrative and understanding of each piece.

Fashion has done a lot for me. It has helped me deal with the insecurities I’ve had my whole life, but it also gave me the freedom that I felt like I didn’t have. Clothing and accessories were my costumes and a mask. I wore it like armour.

Billy De Luca: That’s the beauty of being an artist, don’t you think? Fashion is in that same weird middle ground. It’s like hair. It will grow out of you and can get long enough to be another limb and part of who you are. But sometimes, it can get knotty and be a pain.

Kate Ahn: For sure. I definitely turned to painting to create these fantasies since I had such poor self-esteem (and still struggle with it). It’s how I cope to get through all of life’s bullshit. I think that’s how it is for a lot of artists. We are all struggling and trying to figure it all out.

Billy De Luca: Do you always paint yourself?

Kate Ahn: I have since I was 6. I remember one of my first paintings of a beach filled with all these girls, and all those girls were me. I’m not kidding. There were like 20 versions of me on that beach. But even since then, I’ve always encountered these “teachers” that did not seem to fuck with my vision! When I went to a bunch of art classes (a lot of them were Korean art classes), I had a couple of teachers who were very chill and open-minded, but I also had many teachers who were very conservative. One didn’t even offer figure drawing classes because it was ‘inappropriate’. I thought that was so crazy.

Billy De Luca: Where was this?

Kate Ahn: I grew up in Irvine — It’s a really nice area. You know, the suburbs. It’s deemed the safest city in America, with a huge Korean community. But I always hated it. I can’t think of a time when I didn’t want to leave. I feel privileged to be brought up in such a safe environment, but the environment felt so stale and mundane. One of the art classes I attended was 20 minutes away from my hometown, but the guy who ran the place was horrible. I eventually found another class that meshed better, but as much as I wanted to paint what I paint now, due to my age and environment, it really wasn’t an option. So I focused more on objects and foods that represented the female body and sexuality at the time. It wasn’t until after college that I got to my self-portraits.

Billy De Luca: Why was that? Where was college?

Kate Ahn: I didn’t attempt to do my self-portraits until after college. The love that I got from my parents (after getting accepted into USC) felt too good to stray away from, especially after so many years of rebelling during my tween and teen years. So, naturally, during that time, I gave into their ways — which meant giving up art as a career. I went to school and went from art to Communication (with a minor in Finance). I told my parents — and convinced myself — that I would go into banking and make a lot of money. I thought that after that, someday I’d get back to my art…But that didn’t happen. I never did any of that besides graduating, but that’s something, right?

I tried my best to conform, but it was just not in me. After my second year, I realised I was never going to be the person they wanted me to be, and I didn’t want it either. After graduating in 2020, I painted my first self-portrait. After my various jobs, I saved a bunch of money and said, OK, let me do what I want … I bought my first HUGE canvas. It had been my dream since I was 14 to paint on a canvas like that and to have enough time to work on such a scale. I was still shy and didn’t show my face. I marked it off. But the bodies remained. They were all me, variations of me or dreams of what it could look like. It became a fantasy.

So yeah, that was my first self-portrait, and it sold, so I thought, ‘I must be doing something right!

Billy De Luca: And how did your parents feel about that?

Kate Ahn: They are still upset. I can sympathise with how they feel. As conservative parents, I think the subject matter alone would be difficult for them to digest. But on top of that, there is also a very real fear of their only child not having the stability that a more traditional career choice can provide. It’s not easy selling pieces, for sure. But that first piece was definitely something I took as a sign to just go for it.

Billy De Luca: Do you think that painting is easier than the administrative and sales aspect?

Kate Ahn: Painting is way easier. It would be a dream to just paint and not worry about the selling side of the job haha. It makes me depressed sometimes, and it can feel like things are predestined in this industry. It’s so much about who you know. I ask myself a lot: Are these the things that make or break me as an artist? Do I need to be a person that can talk up my work or have someone willing to do that for me? Yes, it’s discouraging. But in the end, I can’t see myself doing anything else. I can’t stop what I’m doing, and I believe that if you really love it, you’ll find a way.

Billy De Luca: Beforehand it was very much about the quality of the work and the consistency it bore in improving over time and being relevant in such times. Now, it is about self-marketing. You can have an agent and a Gallery, but if you don’t have a personality, then you can sell paintings all you want — but you may not be memorable. With your work, the images strike and transfer energy. Audiences have received that energy and are buying in. You can sell a painting, but you have to sell a self-portrait.

Kate Ahn: Yeah, I agree. Social media has definitely inflated and put this importance on not just your work but a person being an entire package. It’s like people themselves have become conglomerates: you’re the actor, the producer, the director, etc. Everyone has to become a multi-disciplined brand that must follow the fickle nature of social media. Like a walking billboard. It’s overwhelming, but it can be great because you can get your work out independently, cutting out the middleman like agents or galleries. But at the same time, there’s a negative side that comes with oversaturating the avenues that lead people to not take you as seriously. I think of Andy Warhol, who essentially went for it and did it all. And unfortunately, having to deal with silly repercussions where some circles of the art world stopped taking him seriously for doing things unconventionally at the time. Fast forward to now, it’s kind of ironic how his way of doing things ended up becoming the standard today. Even now, it’s still hard to navigate what the perfect balance is between doing it all and still being taken seriously.

And man, there are so many days where I have wished I could paint anything else. Any object, like food or something. It’s easier to sell that as an idea. Instead, I paint really explicit self-portraits. And on that, there is a double standard. Women are in this really unjust and tough position where we are constantly objectified living in this patriarchal world, but the moment we start owning our own sexuality and our own bodies, we become lepers. As much as my work receives a lot of love, it also receives so much hate. Even though we’ve been painting nude women for centuries, I think it is still very new for women themselves to be the ones painting our own bodies. I guess that’s too progressive even for this world haha.

Billy De Luca: And what does that mean to you?

Kate Ahn: That’s one of the very reasons I continue to paint my self-portraits in the nude.I am fighting for my right and everyone’s right to own our sexuality and our body and control our own narrative because that’s a human fucking right. Sexuality isn’t everything, but to me, it is a representation of freedom because that was the first real restriction I faced in my life, and I think many others faced it too. I think women especially have to deal with the double standard of not being able to deal with the freedom of being a sexual being. In my work, I can own my sexuality. I can be who I want to be in my work.

Billy De Luca: So it’s more than just you?

Kate Ahn: In a way, it is more than me. I think my work can become confusing as I am trying to fight the patriarchy, but at the same time, I am also trying to heal from my own self-esteem issues that may very well come from the male gaze. Critics could say I am just perpetuating the patriarch all over again, and I hate to say it, but maybe they would be somewhat true. But I can’t help the fact that being able to fantasise about myself in these various bodies and shapes helps me appreciate my actual body. It’s similar to how I play with clothing, I put it on like a mask and play this character enough to learn that my real self is actually not far away from my ideal self…it was just my anxiety and self-doubt clouding my brain. Maybe that’s unhealthy in some way, but I think a lot of people can relate to the journey of finding true love for yourself and that sometimes it takes unconventional ways to get there. And at the end of the day, I believe that by taking control of my own body and my own self-esteem issues, I still, in many ways, fight the patriarchy.

Billy De Luca: Does the commentary influence you as much as it pushes you forward?

Kate Ahn: With or without the commentary, the paintings would still be like this. But it does help my narrative. The more hate I get, the more my paintings will develop meaning. It just proves to me what I need to express in my work and why it’s important. Some people think I just paint porn…but for me, I feel like I sometimes do paint porn, and there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that.

Billy De Luca: Is it hard to balance professional composure while being a human behind the work?

Kate Ahn: Yah, it is difficult– at least for me, it is. I mean, being an artist to me means that you are choosing to be vulnerable. I know many artists that can keep the vulnerability strictly within their work but for me, I am, unfortunately, a person who tends to word-vomit everything I am going through within my work and outside of it too. I know it’s not the best habit. I know most people respect those who have that perfect ‘professional composure’ — characterised by a confident fearlessness, keeping their cool, even when shit is going sideways in their personal life. This might be completely delusional, but I’d still prefer to find a way to continue to be this open book and also be respected for it just because I feel like it’s so much a part of my character.

Billy De Luca: However, having strong work which is the best thing that you put out at that time. That is what is going to be a huge driving factor. You might not sell. You might go from being very financially comfortable to financially uncomfortable. But through that ringer, one thing is still chugging along, still developing. And that’s your painting.

Kate Ahn: That’s right. And that’s why I’ll never stop either. The paintings are me. There’s no costume or façade or anything. It’s my soul. If I think back to where I was two years ago with my painting, it’s like…incomparable to my skill now. So yeah, that helps me feel better. These feelings of insecurity have inspired me so far, and although I’m working on that, it does still help me produce. The emotions come out, and it makes the art worthwhile. You don’t have to be ‘healed’ to make people feel something — I think I’m just too hard on myself since the years are never easy, and there are so many constant changes. Even if it’s bad feelings, it’s feeling. If you’re feeling something, it’s art.

Billy De Luca: And what else do you see is changing?

Kate Ahn: For my new collection, I want to do more facial expressions similar to the whole 1970s erotica time period, where everyone looked so happy, vibrant, and alive. I feel like that is true for me since I’m a very smiley and happy person. I also want to continue to include more pieces of clothing and lots more socks, as that still is so much a part of me. I did do that a lot this year as I did, like… a lot of stocks.

Billy De Luca: I was going to ask about those…It reminds me of how men in the business sector ‘jazz up’ a suit with a sock. You end up being naked, showing the socks you wear, and they can be colourful and different, but they balance out the grey world of suits. It’s a stabiliser.

Kate Ahn: It’s an homage to my love of clothing…In a way that still allows me to be nude. Certain things go on when you conform to such a society. It’s so difficult to show your identity and be unique and yourself. So yeah, socks are awesome, and you can have so many cool socks.

I’m obsessed with socks.

Billy De Luca: Besides the clothing, where do the colourful backgrounds come into it? Do the star-shaped pastels of pink and green come as afterthoughts?

Kate Ahn: The background comes later. I usually don’t know what to do for the background. That being said, I feel like it has to do with my inspiration from Japan, especially from love hotels. Japan is just…different. I want the paintings to feel happy and alive. I learned a lot about love hotels recently. Back in the 70s, during the women’s liberation movement and just after they legalised abortion, all these love hotels popped up, and they embraced and nurtured the idea of sex and love. You can see it in the way they built these themed rooms and structures. It’s a fantasy that invites more fantasy. The beds are spinning, there’s colour everywhere, and the adult fantasy becomes a reality. And I love it. I love how it is accepting of the fact that humans are sexual beings. It’s happy and human.

Billy De Luca: And does your subject matter and work rely on where you are geographically?

Kate Ahn: Yah, I definitely think so. When I grew up in the suburbs, the constraints and staleness of the city definitely played a part in my work and also the person I became. That’s where you can see the rebellious nature of my work. And being that I was only an hour away from LA, it became a dream of mine from an early age to move here — which I finally did at 18. I think the environment here in LA is so nurturing to being different. It helped me gain confidence in my work. And the actual physical beauty of the city — the madness, the graffiti, I would say some of the strip clubs down here, too, have definitely inspired some of my works.

Billy De Luca: Being in LA is historically seen as…intense. ‘Jasper Johns once said that Hollywood is forever young, forever sexy, and forever swollen with abundance.’ How do you feel about LA?

Kate Ahn: I think Jasper Johns is right. LA is forever young, sexy, and so swollen with abundance that I think it’s only natural to have this love-hate relationship with the city. You can’t be young forever. BUT maybe you can be sexy forever — depending on who’s looking — but living life in abundance will always catch up to you. That’s the thing with LA as much as it is a beautiful city, it’s also really superficial, but hey, I think you can find that just about anywhere in the world. I hate it here, but I also love it, and it will always be my home.

Billy De Luca: Last question… Does that solitude drive you to keep going?

Kate Ahn: I don’t know if it really drives me. I think I am just so used to being alone. Being an only child basically prepared me to be an artist, you know? I think what drives me is that from a very young age, I had a dream of who I was going to be when I became a grown-up, and even though I still have ways to go, I am essentially living it. Even with all the people trying to bring me down and bet on my downfall, I will never let go of my dream. That’s what will always drive me to keep going.

Credits

CRAP SHIT, 2023
TAKE ME THERE,2022
KATE #3, 2022
All Images courtesy of the artist.

Gian Maria Tosatti

Posted on 20 de October de 202312 de March de 2024 by nr

NR 18 Personal Investigation · Autumn Winter 2023
Published · Print Page 034

Feature · Gian Maria Tosatti
Words · Lorenzo Ottone

On the responsibilities of the artist and the weight of history

Emilio Isgrò once stated that the role of the artist is that of navigating society out of crisis. If we see in his words any validity, then, we can’t help but see Gian Maria Tosatti as one of the most distinguished and brave admirals of the fleet that is now busy trying to sail us through the stormy waters of the present.

Don’t let his beard fool you, he’s far from a ruthless buccaneer adventuring across the seas of the art world for mere pragmatic interests. On the contrary, he seems to have embraced a mission with broad horizons and rich in dialogue, as highlighted by his work as art director of the Rome Quadriennale and even when, last year, he became the first solo artist to curate the Italian pavilion at the Venice Biennale.

Born in the eternal city in 1980, Tosatti indeed faces the art industry with the deep knowledge and critical consciousness of a historian, or to put it in his own words as someone whose first, priceless schooling was the daily stroll to school across the decaying and majestic beauty of the Imperial Fora.

However, Tosatti has succeeded in escaping the academic redundancy that often defines those too knowledgeable about their own field, by giving birth to a distinctive and globally-acclaimed body of work. His visual art focuses on long-term, often site-specific projects that question the state of our society and identity, equally touching upon politics and spirituality.

Listening to him discerning about his practice makes you reconcile with art, as a discipline rather than as an industry, something that has been for way too long overshadowed by its financial, voyeuristic and gossipping side. The conversation that sparks with Tosatti acquires a profound stance, spiritual at times, for leading us to question ourselves on the role of the artist in history and on its political duties to capture the present, willing or not.

Lorenzo Ottone: You were born and raised in Rome, now you live in Naples. How influential is the weight of the past and history, both artistically and politically, exerted by these two cities for an artist like you who investigates the present?

Gian Maria Tosatti: Actually, it is not a burden. In fact, it is the exact opposite. The strong presence of historical and cultural elements in the identity of the city in which I was born and in that of the city where I live exerts a positive and helpful influence in the interpretation of phenomena pertaining both to the present and the future. In thousands of years of their history, men have not changed. There is a beautiful work by Andrea Mastrovito entitled Le jardin des histoires du monde. It is a story in which it is not clear at what moment in history certain events take place, because they continue to happen, cyclically. Living in a city with such a great past is like having a good schooling behind you. It makes decoding reality easier.

Lorenzo Ottone: The project that in recent years has defined your artistic research the most is Il mio cuore è vuoto come uno specchio (My heart is empty like a mirror), which aims to reflect on the crisis of democracy in multiple areas of the world. Is there any willingness to trigger political thoughts and actions by capturing our zeitgeist? Or, in other words, to what extent can artists subtract themselves from their present and from the broader socio-political context?

Gian Maria Tosatti: An artist can never escape his historical present. Even ascetic figures like Morandi are imbued with the feeling of the time in which they lived. Morandi’s painting is only possible because of that specific civil and cultural context. The question is not, therefore, whether or not one wants to give one’s work a political subtext, but to accept the fact that the artist’s role is to give back, with his works, translations of the spirit of the time, which encompasses every aspect of our civilisation. I simply carry out my task, the work that was assigned to me when I decided to join an order as ancient as that of the artists.

Lorenzo Ottone: You once stated that the spark – to a certain extent a vocation – that led you to make art came from a dream. How much room is there now for the sphere of dreams in your practice and how strong, on the contrary, is the willingness to capture the present with pragmatism? And how about spirituality?

Gian Maria Tosatti: Actually, as psychoanalysis teaches us, there is a certain continuity between reality and the dream. Sometimes what we are unable to tell ourselves in the mirror, we end up addressing through another reflective surface, which is that of the dream. My work is aware of this and, as a consequence, encompasses elements retaining a strong connection with historical reality – for example, creating a work in the centre of the Kurdish quarter of Istanbul while it was being demolished by the authorities – as well as markedly visionary horizons – such as filling an entire floor of the building in which we set up that Turkish work with snow, in June.

Lorenzo Ottone: Since we live in a fragmented society, rich in micro-scenes and ‘bubbles’, each with their own influencers and micro-celebrities, can art still cater the role of simulacrum of the present? Can it still narrate universal truths able to reach a broad audience?

Gian Maria Tosatti: Art can certainly do that. What, on the other hand, is very disturbing is this disordered polyphony of voices belonging not so much to the many ‘art lovers’, but to people who understand very little about art and demonstrate this by cheering for some artists and hating others, speaking well of some and badly of others, supporting some and doing everything to discredit others. All this has profoundly changed the art world compared to past decades. In the recent golden years of Italian art, the 1960s and 1970s, one certainly preferred some artists to others, but one had respect for all of them. They were held in esteem because, even if they were far from our specific inclinations (conceptualism, figurative painting, sound-art, performance), they were recognised as having authority and mastery in their field. Today, however, artists are seen as a band of miracle workers, runaways, who owe everything to the support of some gallery owner or patron. If we esteem them, they are our ‘protégés’ (hence, inferiors anyway), if we do not esteem them, they are ‘impostors’.

The sad thing is that this very mindset now applies not only to those who came to the art world for reasons of social status, but also to the professionals themselves. There are curators who snobbishly refuse to go and see the work of certain artists, as if those works did not deserve the attention of their gaze. Even worse, there are artists who talk about other artists as if they were thieves, without realising that, in doing so, they are discrediting their own work, because as Rilke said, even just to get a single verse out of the soul requires discipline that still deserves our respect and attention. Personally, I am happy that through Quadriennale, in this three-year period, I have brought attention to the work of many – regardless of preference – and that I have also fought to critically and financially support the work of other artists who have publicly spoken very ungenerous words against me or have taken political positions by signing petitions against me. I believe, in this way, that I have done what was right, distancing myself from an opportunistic and vulgar bourgeois art system.

Lorenzo Ottone: Over the years, you have adopted multiple techniques and chosen a range of mediums to express yourself, even touching upon music. I am thinking about the gramophones that you have also played on stage with Vinicio Capossela. How much does multidisciplinarity define your artistic identity and practice?

Gian Maria Tosatti: Italian artists have always been extremely eclectic. Think of Leonardo Da Vinci, think of Bernini, a fantastic theatre director as well as architect, painter and sculptor. Think of Michelangelo Buonarroti’s verses that we have studied together with those of the greatest poets at the turn of the 15th and 16th centuries. And then again to Pasolini, film director, playwright, poet, columnist for Corriere della Sera. It is the specificity of our cultural tradition. Since the art system has become mainly Anglo-American, we tend to compartmentalise more. I’ve got nothing against it, but I do not belong to that cultural tradition. And if we all conformed to the same model, I think we would lose almost all of what makes us rich because we are different.

Italy has felt like a province for a long time. It is the fault of wrong choices made by our cultural industry, which self-destructed in the 1980s, and of many supposed intellectuals – I am thinking of several curators with international careers – who have been blatantly ashamed of their country, as if Italy actually was a remote province of the artistic universe. Fortunately, this is not the case. Italy has had little to no influence for forty years, it is true, but this is an insignificant amount of time if compared to the history of our civilisation. The strength of our cultural specificity is still great. And it is a good thing that today other countries or continents – I am thinking of Africa, which is working magnificently – have also raised their heads in the global cultural system, because this can lead to exciting comparisons and to writing fantastic new chapters of art history together.

However, this is only possible if – just like the Africans – we can rediscover pride in our own specificities. Italians are cultural fantasists, because we are born immersed in millennia of stratifications. Simply think of the home-to-school route we take in the morning when children. It can be worth more than a degree at Harvard, because if every day we walk across, as was my case, the centre of Rome, eventually, we will not only get to know the Imperial Fora stone by stone, but all that knowledge will be inseparable from what we are. Of course, one has to have that interest. If one wants to be a footballer, perhaps, they will walk straight across temples, head down, as if they lived in Texas.

Lorenzo Ottone: Speaking of the requirements an artist must have, in recent years your career has been enhanced by the appointment as artistic director of the Quadriennale di Roma. How does Tosatti, the artistic director and curator, differ from Tosatti the artist?

Gian Maria Tosatti: When I was a boy I had a particular regard for a great poet, T. S. Eliot. As publishing director of Faber & Faber he played a pivotal role in shaping Anglophone literature in the first half of the 20th century. The same can be said of Calvino, who played the same role at Einaudi. But in the 20th century, there were hundreds of artists who took on managerial roles within the cultural system. And thank goodness for that! Pirandello was the director of the Teatro degli Artisti in Rome. And the Quadriennale was founded by an artist, the only one, by the way, to have directed it, in its entire history. Today, the idea of an artist taking on such a role sounds like heresy to many. Instead, anyone who knows a little about art history knows how important the theoretical contributions of artists are.

I do not want to go as far quoting illustrious figures such as Vasari or Leon Battista Alberti, the manifestos of the 20th century avant-gardes or a book such as The Art of the Novel by Milan Kundera, to make us realise that a world in which artists are confined to their henhouse, brooding over an egg only for critics and dealers to pick up, makes a poor and weak art system. Exactly like the one in which we are immersed today. I do not believe that my strong and stubborn commitment in the contrary direction will change much, but I am simply not willing to be a simple code, good for an infantilised society.

Lorenzo Ottone: To draw a conclusion to our chat, how is the heart of Gian Maria Tosatti today? Still empty like a mirror or full?

Gian Maria Tosatti: As many have said, from Fellini to Boetti – even Totò in a magnificent interview for [Italian state television] RAI, which can be easily found on YouTube -, in every artist there are two people. There is the actual artist and then there is the other, the one who takes him around. Fellini used to say that he would accompany Federico to the places he wanted to go and watch him do things that he would never do. I have learned these things over the years, reading their memoirs, but since I was a kid I have always said that I push Gian Maria’s wheelchair, I take him where he asks me to. Only as an adult, though, I understood what I exactly meant since then. At forty-three, I am an intellectual, a public figure who takes a stand in the newspapers, a cultural manager who knows how to renovate an institution, who has a strong sense of ethics and politics, whose heart is full of fantastic relationships with other intellectuals or people from the street whom I have always helped and supported as an activist. On the other hand, He, the other, is an artist, a man whom I do not understand, whom I do not want to understand, whose ethics are paradoxical, dark and crystalline, whose heart is always empty, ravenous and devoured at the same time. He is thin, very thin. I am attached to him and my duty is not to abandon him.

Credits

Terra dell’ultimo cielo, 2016. Site specific installation.
My dreams, they’ll never surrender, 2014. Site specific installation.
Il mio cuore è vuoto come uno specchio – Episodio di Catania, 2018. Site specific installation.

All images courtesy of Galleria Lia Rumma, Milan/Naples

Galcher Lustwerk

Posted on 20 de October de 202312 de March de 2024 by nr

NR 18 Personal Investigation · Autumn Winter 2023
Published · Print Page 036

Feature · Galcher Lustwerk
Words · Arielle Lana Le Jarde

Abstract Universe

Galcher Lustwerk wants you to know he can do it all. The DJ and producer came from attending DIY punk shows in Cleveland and noise festivals in Providence before settling in Brooklyn’s dance music zeitgeist. His 100% GALCHER mix, made of all originals, propelled him to prominence in 2013, and his multi-layered approach to house music has solidified him as one of the city’s mainstays, becoming a regular at the likes of Bossa Nova Civic Club, Paragon, Nowadays, and Good Room.

But the artist, born Chris Sherron, is more than Galcher Lustwerk. With a plethora of side projects that ranges from post-rock to techno body horror to ambient driving music, he proves he can do it all.

Weeks after the release of his latest Ghostly International project, LUSTWERK II, Galcher Lustwerk speaks to Arielle Lana LeJarde for a wide-ranging conversation about comic books, social media, and why the U.S. hosts the best dance music scene in the world.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: I know you started making music in middle school with Fruity Loops and then got Ableton in 2003, but I’m curious—aside from wanting to find Black music that didn’t have the parental advisory sticker on it—what drew you to electronic music?

Galcher Lustwerk: Looking back on it, I think I was sort of just into the, the, the sort of, I mean, like, the futuristic like science fiction-ness of it. Especially around that time that drum and bass and these sort of more heady genres were just getting a little heavier and more instrumental. It felt like I could absorb music in a more ambient way. It kind of felt emotional and I related to the way that there was no words or anything. I just connected to that on this abstract, futuristic, and emotional viewpoint. Also with regards to the artworks, the CDsm and the packaging, I was just super into that it.

Around the same time, I was into going to comic book stores. That kind of tie kind of ties into that stuff being anime and robots. That was the zeitgeist [of electronic music], at least in the late 90s or early 2000s. Everyone was hooked on if they’re into like, electronic music, comics, and even skateboarding.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: What comics or manga did you read?

Galcher Lustwerk: I was into Batman at first. There was this corner store that I would go to that had a comic stand and I started the darker stuff like Batman, Spawn, and all the weird ones. The weirdest drawings, I would be attracted to. Later on, I would drive to the comic store with my parents and that’s how I found out about Akira. That kind started making me like shift my focus towards manga. I think manga was on another level.

I was I was also drawing a lot and had aspirations of doing comics at one point. Seeing the magnitude and the amount of craft that went into stuff like that was was really cool. It just interested me from a media standpoint.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: If you could create your own comic what would it be about?

Galcher Lustwerk: The narratives that I’m into are surveillance heists, mystery-type spy stories and secret agents. So I’m sure I’d have some to do with that. It would have an international feel—a globe-trotting jet set vibe. Kind of the same vibe I’m trying to do with music. I would try and make it feel substantial like Akira. Akira was huge! It had volumes. There’s something that’s cool about having that much of a world packed into into like a solid object.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Iif you were to say that you’re like creating a world with your music, what does that world look like?

Galcher Lustwerk: It just looks like the world like the world as it is, but maybe with an omniscient, detached, vouyeristic point of view. It would have a focus on perception, space and light. I have a lot of visual reference images and a lot of them have to do with being in golden hour, when the sun is setting and everything’s kind of hazy. I’m always sort of thinking about in the back of my mind, in a synesthetic way, it’s what I see by default.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: It’s interesting that you mention being a voyeur and futuristic stuff, but you’ve said in the past you’ve been shy about social media.

Galcher Lustwerk: I think I’m frustrated with how much time and like energy it expends. It’s hard to put a marketing hat on all of a sudden, and then focus on this whole other goal. With music, I’m just trying to finish tracks and put out the tracks. With DJing, I’m trying to get people to dance. And with social media, I’m just getting people actually pay attention to what I’m trying to say, period. So it’s like a frustration more than anything. I’m trying. At least now, I’m trying. I stopped using Twitter so with TikTok and Instagram, I can focus more. I do enjoy using TikTok and viewing TikToks. It’s a workflow thing and habit thing.

I’m really like dragging my feet getting accustomed to everything, I guess. But when I think about making music and the artists that I do appreciate, they don’t really use social media either. But at the end of the day, I just want people as many people to hear what I’m putting out. So it’s not worth nothing.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: What’s on your “for you” page?

Galcher Lustwerk: It’s been like real messed up lately. I think it was cool in Berlin, but as soon as I got back to the States, it’s been really political and chatty. Which I like sometimes, but I prefer cute animal videos that I can send to my wife that we can watch and laugh together.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Did you see that viral TikTok of those girls getting rejected from Basement?

Galcher Lustwerk: No, I haven’t yet.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: It’s deleted now, but I saw it posted on Twitter and now I think about it all the time.

Galcher Lustwerk: That’s funny. I can’t tell you how that benefits basement. Or if it does or not.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Everyone was just shitting on it. Shitting on the girls. Shitting on Basement calling it a budget Berghain.

Galcher Lustwerk: I prefer Basement over Berghain any day, honestly. Once they got the studio in there, it’s been awesome.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Do you think people would be mad at you for saying that?

Galcher Lustwerk: I don’t know. I don’t care. I feel like they’re losing the power they used to hold. There’s a lot of other Berlin-based clubs that have popped up that are just as good and easier to get into. That vibe can be found elsewhere now. Berlin specifically has got the whole city behind it. It’s part of their tourism, so I think it’ll always be hyped up which is cool. I mean, it’s cool to have a place like that.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Do you think New York City is that place in the U.S.? A lot of artists have been saying they think NYC is actually the best city for dance music in the world, actually.

Galcher Lustwerk: I would agree with that. I think there are way more exciting things happening here than in Europe, at least for what’s on my radar. The youth culture in New York is just so huge. After pandemic, I’ve definitely felt like there’s a younger crowd that’s so psyched—they see what they like and they just do it.

[In New York], there’s no trending thing necessarily. Yes, right now we’re into really fast techno, but our scene also has this South African influence. There’s club, there’s drill, there’s garage—and it’s all being played at the same time, which is sick. Berlin is just fast techno or trance. You’re gonna you’re gonna get the same genre for the whole night. But in New York, it’s always a surprise.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Back to your music, how does your recent release, LUSTWERK II, fit into your catalog?

Galcher Lustwerk: I wanted to call it LUSTWERK II because it’s a cheeky—in a way different—reality that would have been my second release after the mix. It was basically what I was working on right after the mix, the original 100% GALCHER mix. I had put some of them on the Resident Advisor Podcast and then a few of them were on vinyl. At the time, I was like really taken aback by the amount of attention that was going on and just like not not knowing what to do. So to me, I’m kind of cleaning out the closet a little bit and bringing attention back to these tracks because they were never on Spotify or Bandcamp or anything. I do have like a bunch of stuff I’m trying to get out by the end of the year.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Do you read reviews of your own music?

Galcher Lustwerk: Yeah, I have to read them all. Just to make sure there’s no like errors or anything.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Do you think it affects you in any way or do you actually care what people think?

Galcher Lustwerk: I like reading the reviews, but I also feel like reviews have lost their significance a lot in the past few years. To me reviews are almost a comfort because you’re being validated and it’s not like the consequence of whether enough people like caught it or not. There are so many so many releases that aren’t being reviewed and more people listen to them than the releases that get reviewed. It’s weird. The review doesn’t matter anymore, I think. I mean, it matters a little bit, but in terms of helping people make decisions on buying music, it’s it doesn’t really make a difference anymore.

Arielle Lana LeJarde: Is there anything else you want people to know about you, or is anything you think people get wrong about you that you want to correct?

Galcher Lustwerk: I’m comfortable in saying I’m just really multifaceted. Some people may see one side and not the other. There’s a lot of detail that I put into my work that if you pay attention to it, it’s rewarding. And that’s what I what and what makes me happy as an artist, is being able to put all of these abstract ideas into into a media object.

Also, I got like a lot of side projects that are all separate concepts as well. Just to run them down. There’s like Macchiatto, which is kind of my post-rock thing. There’s Power User, which is a video game music-themed project. Then there’s this project called The Fock, which is my techno body horror project. I got another project called Road Hog, which is like music for driving. I have all those separate projects that I think people would people would fuck with.

Oh, also I feel like the United States has the best DJs and the best producers. I’m not patriotic, but I favor us in terms of just like how this music is an American thing and a Black American innovation. I feel. So I’m definitely pro- that.

Credits

Photography · Collin Hughes

Shubostar

Posted on 20 de October de 202312 de March de 2024 by nr

NR 18 Personal Investigation · Autumn Winter 2023
Published · Print Page 024

Feature · Shubostar
Words · Marcus Boxler

Between ‘Altered Egos’ and Virtual Realities

In the neon-lit alleys of Berlin’s music scene, Shubostar is a name that resonates like a pulsating beat. From the pixelated realms of computer games to the rhythmic cadences of cosmic disco, her journey is a symphony of contrasts. But what’s the thread that ties her gaming roots to her musical prowess?

Dive deep into Shubostar’s past, and you’ll find a young game designer from South Korea, exploring the world accompanied by the sound of early computer games. With just one guitar, one kick, and one snare – oh, Cakewalk, you beautiful music crafting beast – she produced tunes that echoed the minimalistic charm of MS-DOS classics and latter. Her favorite games? Princess Maker and World of Warcraft. Fast forward, and while her music has evolved towards cosmic disco, that simplicity remains. It’s not about complex configurations; it’s about a melody that lingers. Shubostar’s journey from a game designer in South Korea to a Berlin-based music sensation is a tale of two worlds: reality and virtuality. At the heart of it lies the concept of the ‘altered ego’. Altering the ego to be with peers and friends; altering your self-perception when entering the virtual environment of a second life promising game or an experience-engaging rave; but never altering her minimalist street style in fashion, that she lately embraced with the newest fashion collab of A Better Mistake and Telekom Electronic Beats: Altered Ego.

Marcus Boxler: I am very happy to talk to you again, Shubostar, after we met in Montenegro during the “Summer of Joy” festival by Electronic Beats. Last time we did not have a chance to dive deeper into your roots: computer games. You graduated in computer game programming and created music for virtuality. How would you describe the music you produced back then?

Shubostar: Ooof, that was already 20 years ago! Maybe you remember the first computer games, their design, the feeling. The music was only one simple melody.

Marcus Boxler: Does this have an impact on your musical style today?

Shubostar: Probably yes, now that you mention it. Even today, I am way more interested in creating a melody, rather than a complex configuration. Even for the sound. Nowadays, I use a pre-set, when I create music. But, I often change it, because I know how it works. So the roots in computer game programming left their mark, haha.

Marcus Boxler: Do you still play video games?

Shubostar: Nooo, I had to stop! It was too dangerous for me! I had been so into computer games, it became like a drug for me. I nearly dropped out of university, because I was missing some lectures.

Marcus Boxler: Ok! We will talk about derivatives for being addicted a little bit later, but before I want to dig deeper into the connection between computer games and your approach to producing music today.

Shubostar: When you’re gaming you’re alone in the physical world. Of course, there are multiplayer games and even gaming rooms or tournaments. But mostly, you are playing alone. You’re alone on your laptop, but you are not alone in the virtual world. You are connected to others. It’s like being in control of a different reality, where the connection to others surpasses the physical reality. That’s the idea I pursue with my music. To expand the connection between people on an unspoken level – virtually.

Marcus Boxler: Did you know that the term ‘virtuality’ actually comes from theology? When Christians talked about virtuality, they meant a non-physical environment that you can only reach via preaching or meditation.

Shubostar: I know this state! I sometimes go into this state shortly before I fall asleep. It’s like trance.

Marcus Boxler: Blending the virtual with the real. Speaking of blending, your music combines italo disco and electronic synthesizer sound in a very unique way. For your inspiration you mentioned the likes of Daft Punk, Air but also Alexander Robotnick and Daniele Baldelli in earlier interviews. Tell us more about that.

Shubostar: I’ve always been intrigued by things that feel real but aren’t present. Like space. It’s there, but we don’t really feel it. The universe is expanding every second we exist, but we don’t feel any of it. At least, not in a way we can articulate, yet. It’s a reality, but it’s not tangible.

Marcus Boxler: And the Italo Disco influence?

Shubostar: It comes with the synthesizer. It’s danceable, it’s uplifting. It came naturally…

Marcus Boxler: Speaking of things that come naturally: You are also the founder of a record label: uju records. Can you tell us the story of how you became a record label owner?

Shubostar: Yes, I founded “uju Records.” It’s Korean and it means ‘cosmic’. However, the journey is way less impressive than you probably think. When I used to live in Mexico, I produced an abundance of music. Like, really a lot! The one percent of my favorite record labels that I reached out to and that – at least – replied, did not want any of the music. During that time I was living with my best friend who advised me to found my own record label and release the music myself. Easier, faster. He helped me with the logo and artworks and this is how the romantic story goes.

Marcus Boxler: Is there a greater goal to the label? Do you want to sign other artists maybe?

Shubostar: It’s all about me (laughs). The label was really just an entity to release my own music and not be dependent on another label. Also, I don’t want to put too many different artists into one shape, being the label. What I do consider, is to do a cosmic disco compilation. That would be with other artists as well.

Marcus Boxler: Your style isn’t just limited to music. Your fashion sense is quite iconic. Last time we met, you were wearing a bandana top, wrapped around your body, combined with a – I’d call it – mediterranean pearl look. What drives your style choices?

Shubostar: Yeees, I remember that look. It was a piece from the newest collection collab of A Better Mistake and Electronic Beats. It’s called: Altered Ego. I believe in expressing myself fully, whether it’s through music, art, or fashion. Usually, I love street style. But at the same time, I can say with a certainty of 100 percent: That I’m minimalist.

Marcus Boxler: Really?!

Shubostar: Absolutely. I don’t like to buy many clothes. But whenever I choose something, I need it to be wearable for a week and not have it feel boring. That’s my measurement. It has to feel comfortable and I have to be able to wear it for a show or if I go to the supermarket. Wear it for ten years and exchange it, only if it’s ‘broken’.

Marcus Boxler: That is the core of Minimalism. I think we grasped a little bit of “the real Shubostar”. Is there also an altered ego of yours, that you would like to share about?

Shubostar: Altered me? I think every version of me is altered as soon as I leave the doorstep and interact with other people. No?

Marcus Boxler: Indeed, but it’s the same you. Or, are you changing your behavior in the presence of other people?

Shubostar: Freaking, yes! Don’t you? I mean I love to socialize with my peers and I love to bring an uplifting vibe and happy mode to the group. But sometimes, after a few days of interacting, I need some time alone. To recharge the battery. And then run the game again.

Identity is representation, transforming communication into community. Picking up the phone with a colleague or with a friend sets a completely different tone, and therefore creates different narratives throughout all social entities. Though alone at her computer, Shubostar was always part of vast communities. Either online or on the dance floor. This duality of being physically alone but virtually connected influenced her style and sound.

In essence, Shubostar’s music is where her real self meets her ‘altered ego’, creating tracks that resonate both in clubs and in the hearts of those who listen.

Credits

Photography · Marvin Jockschat for Telekom Electronic Beats
Shubostar is wearing Telekom Electronic Beats x A Better Mistake

Month: October 2023

Elsa Rouy

An artistic metaphysical surgeon

Rae Klein

A Fraying Blur

MoMA Ready

MoMA Ready Is Vouching For Himself

Kate Ahn

It’s Shock Therapy, Baby

Gian Maria Tosatti

On the responsibilities of the artist and the weight of history

Galcher Lustwerk

Abstract Universe

Shubostar

Between ‘Altered Egos’ and Virtual Realities

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