Simone Bodmer-Turner – Emma Scully

The Fusion of Art and Design: A Discussion with Simone Bodmer-Turner and Emma Scully

Renowned American artist and designer Simone Bodmer-Turner, known primarily for her work in ceramics, has embarked on an innovative exploration into new mediums, showcasing collectible design objects crafted from bronze, wood, lacquer, and silk at the Emma Scully Gallery in New York. In a captivating discussion, Bodmer-Turner and Gallerist Emma Scully delve into the intricate interplay between design and art, reflecting on the evolving landscape of creativity. At the heart of their conversation lies the focal point of their recent collaboration—the exhibition “A Year Without a Kiln.” running until June 22, 2024.

Simone, Emma thanks for joining us. Simone, you recently moved from New York City to rural Massachusetts. What motivated this change, and how has it impacted your life and work?

SBT: Before I was able to do my work full time, I spent a period of time working at a food/farming-centred start up, then working in restaurants and farming to support my studio practice. Being close to food, growing it myself, and being very intertwined with nature has been something I’ve been trying to re-incorporate into my life, but I had to be patient through the initial years of solidifying my work becoming my business in New York before I could do that. It’s been freeing to be able to expand into the spaciousness of the countryside.

Your solo exhibition at Emma Scully Gallery, “A Year Without a Kiln,” features pieces created during this transitional period. Can you tell us more about this project and what inspired it?

SBT: The work in the show was created both in a moment of transition, but also in a moment when I didn’t yet have a studio or access to my usual materials and tools I had used to make my work up until this point. I had had the privilege of collaborative work before, but finding myself in this place with the invitation of a solo show, made collaboration key to the conceptualisation of the work. It was an opportunity to design in materials that I was not personally a master in – wood, bronze, iron, lacquer – but that resonated with me for their rootedness in traditional craftsmanship and the unadulterated materials of the natural world.

Emma Scully described this exhibition as a tactile encapsulation of your work and perspective. What do you hope viewers take away from “A Year Without a Kiln”?

SBT: I hope that viewers and clients begin to understand what work I do as diversely as I dream it up in my imagination – covering all manner of materials and ways of working. I want viewers to recognise my language of form and see it transposed onto unexpected and sometimes more traditional shapes. I want to remove preconceptions and categorisations – both in my work and in all these overlapping worlds of art/design/craft – of “high” vs “low”, “functional” vs “sculptural”, “craft” vs “art”. I want the work to serve as a small part of a movement towards a different way of designing and fabricating, with craftsmanship and human relationships at the center. Collectively we need to recover from the hangover we have from the 70s when the idea of craft erroneously came to equate to craftsy, rather than multi-generational, learned craftsmanship – an error that has birthed multiple generations who turn a blind eye, often unknowingly, to how the things we bring into our homes are made and by whom.

Where do you see your practice going from here?

SBT: I’ve dabbled in many materials and ways of working over the last few years, and plan to spend the next bit solidifying and clarifying the arms of the studio and our offerings. We’ll be growing our site-specific interior installations, continuing to partner with craftspeople to develop furniture and sculpture in other materials, and building out our new ceramic studio in the countryside to have a ceramic offering again.

What challenges have you faced in transitioning from ceramics to working with materials like wood, bronze, and lacquer?

SBT: Every material is so different. Wood requires precision whereas clay does not. It’s challenging to make progress with bronze in the summer when it’s too hot to have the furnace going. Bronze also brings weight into the equation as a potential issue, though luckily it has much more capacity to bear weight that clay does and there’s the ability to create finer, thinner areas within a piece, unlike clay. True urushi lacquer takes an immense amount of time (4 months per piece) and the right moisture conditions to cure, unlike any material I’ve encountered before.

Speaking of the Tadpole Bowl, its polished bronze silhouette reflects the titular creature. Can you tell us more about the inspiration behind this piece?

SBT: I had to come up with a name that quickly reframed for the viewer what they initially thought, might just possibly be a sperm. It was early springtime when I finished the model, and all the tadpoles were out in the ponds, and hence…

Calder and Giacometti are muses for you. How do their influences manifest in your new work?

SBT: Calder was the first creator of objects that I understood, as a child, to be “an artist”. My parents really loved the whimsy, balance, and lightness of his work and took me to his exhibitions when they came to town. A lot of the playfulness, interactivity, and tension I bring into my work stems from a lifetime looking at his. Diego Giacometti was a later discovery, only finding out about him from underneath the shadow of his brother when my work was moving more distinctly into the design realm. His adornment and twists on traditional structures of lighting, chairs and tables, has been influential in this most recent body of work.

Now, I’d like to shift our focus to Emma Scully Gallery, where your latest work is being showcased. Hi Emma, how did you approach curating this exhibition, and what was your vision for presenting Simone’s work?

ES: A solo show is a wonderful opportunity to show the world of the designer. Simone took the lead on the exhibition design of her show and thoughtfully created a space where her work could be presented in the context of her larger design ethos.

How do you choose the artists and designers you collaborate with for your gallery? And how do you envision the future of galleries in promoting hybrid forms of design and art?

ES: First and foremost, my responsibility to my clients is to show them the best of contemporary collectible design. Beyond this, a lot has to align to show an artist or designer at the gallery. It has to be the right time in someone’s career to be supporting their work, and we have to want to embark on this intensive journey of working together! One of the things I am most proud of in my work at the gallery is supporting the fabrication of work. What this means looks different for each artist and designer I work with. But I hope it is something other galleries continue to do – and find ways of supporting the work and the artists we work with beyond sales.

Emma, what advice would you give to emerging artists looking to find their unique voice?

ES: Experiment, work and look at a lot!

Credits

Photography ·  William Jess Laird
All images courtesy of Simone Bodmer-Turner and Emma Scully Gallery

Bloody Clip

Through Clip’s looking glass

She loves music and making friends. Clip’s IG bio could very well encapsulate her attitude. But that would mean remaining on the surface level of what the NYC rapper and artist is all about. NR interviewed her back in (month) to learn more about her world. into her world —after all, what better guide could we ask for, if not herself?

I’ve seen a lot of media coverage, web exposure, and you just teased lots of big and very interesting collaborations. You came firing straight out the gate.

Oh, honestly, I’m really thankful for how fast things are evolving and how packed my year has been so far, but it’s kind of been weird to adjust because there’s been so many life changes. We kind of had to find the best way to navigate through all the madness. Luckily I have my team, and the people who are close to me –they really make it easier. But I still sometimes don’t really know how to navigate everything..I just try to make it work!

How’s all of this, a new team, more exposure, a bigger community, impacting you?

I still try to just do my thing, but at the same time I’m obviously trying to be more of an artist, really honing in on my craft without changing too much of myself. It’s the same energy I’m putting in, I guess only in a more professional way –less like a girl with just her phone doing whatever, and more structured.

Less DIY?

That’s the perfect word for it. I was so DIY for so long, and I still kind of am. Only now, I have amazing help around me!

It feels like your relationship with your fans and the people that your music speaks to is very important in what you do.

It’s everything.

Even the way that you interact with them, It makes you think that it somehow translates in your process. What sparks you?

Tying back to you mentioning communities, I always was longing to be a part of something growing up, and I found that through music. It makes me feel so privileged. I really just want to own that and make sure everyone that supports me feels as seen as I do right now. It’s something I hold close and try to remember everyday: making everyone feel like they’re accepted, because life is just crazy and we should try to make things better for everyone, in our small ways –But I’m getting a bit sidetracked. Back to my process; I like to say that I don’t really have one –It’s like the beauty behind the madness: Whatever comes to me, comes to me in the moment. I try not to overthink things, because overthinking is my biggest enemy, something I’ve always struggled with. Sometimes my friends will say that when I create, it’s like I’ve been possessed by a music entity or whatever. My old music really used to reflect a lot of emotions and situations that I was experiencing at the time because my life was just so crazy, changing so fast –I just used my music as a way of coping. Nowadays I’m trying to have more fun with everything. As I started going out more to parties I was like “okay, I would love to turn up to my shit in a club.” But I couldn’t! I only had sad songs out! [laughs] So lately, I have been trying to make more, let’s say, happier club bangers.

Things around you and what your experience is changing. The recipe might be seemingly changing, but it really isn’t, right?

Exactly! This is myself, and my music reflects that just, naturally, you know?

I read about how it’s very important for you to be a mirror for other people to see themselves in. However, your music is very personal and intimate. There’s this sort of contradiction, but you still manage to create something that feels open to the listener. They can project their own meanings onto it while still enjoying it. I wanted to ask you about this, but I think you’ve already answered it in a way.

It’s literally just like that. So yeah, that’s a cool and beautiful way of putting it!

You know, I was trying to find ways to pinpoint and define your sound, but somehow it eludes me. One word I would use to describe it is ‘cool.’ But ‘cool’ is a very elusive term. You’ve been associated with the fashion world, magazines, runways —all things that exude cool. So now, I wanted to ask you, since you describe things very personally, what would be your definition of what coolness is today?

That’s a good question. I think coolness is…owning it, your raw inner self. I like people that are vulnerable and are afraid to show the world who they are, but they still risk it and express themselves. The coolest people that I know are so real to the point where it might even be detrimental for them. But that’s what makes it cool, you can’t really replicate those things. And maybe that’s kind of a cliche, but I think not being an asshole is also very cool.

Do you have plans moving forward to further build on your personal brand of coolness, maybe reinforce your presence in different mediums other than music?

[Laughs] Anytime I used to get asked this, I would be like “Oh, you know, I’m just floating, I don’t know my plans.” But now I finally have a very precise idea about it! I want to be the face for people like me, that’s the masterplan. And, obviously, music is my priority. I love music, that’s my everything. I have this quote I always use “Music is why hearts have beats.” Music really is my life, and I never want to lose sight of that, but also I don’t want to box myself in it. I want to keep experimenting with different mediums, especially visual, and continue to show people like me that If I can do it, then you can too, because I’m literally the most normal person ever.

And what are some hidden references or elements that might have influenced your music, your overall artistic expression –something that we couldn’t pinpoint just by listening to your music, but that is there and embedded in what you do?

There’s a whole grunge era of me growing up in middle and high school that played a big part in shaping who I am. Everyone was kind of emo, but I really identify as a grunge girl. I am maybe still living in that era, you can feel it in my music. I loved alternative, experimental, sad boy music –Yung Lean, Lil Peep, Drain Gang. I was a little weirdo in class, listening to bands like The Neighborhood, Title Fight. Emotion is a big factor in everything I do. I think it’s cool to feel so intensely because a lot of people seem like walking zombies with no emotions, just going through the motions of life –I call them NPCs. I feel bad for those people who aren’t living life the way they want to. But getting back on track, the grunge era, rock, emo, and fashion all influence me. Growing up, my parents never really got me clothes because they believed school wasn’t a fashion show, going all the time like “all you need is like the essentials.” They were also conservative Jamaicans, so I wasn’t allowed to express myself the way I wanted. Once I was free from those restraints, it felt really good to be myself, and clothes played a big part in that. The whole fashion world is a big inspiration for me, and while it might not be directly felt in my music, it works hand in hand with it. And then again, now I’m walking runways and shit all over the world, you know?

How does that feel?

Pretty fucking cool! [laughs]

Being able to not only express yourself through clothes and music but also fully embrace your personality while being a professional adds a different dimension. The references you mentioned, such as Yung Lean or Drain Gang, are all artists who took subcultural and aesthetic elements and made them their own. They repurposed these elements, which is something you do as well; You are part of a new generation of artists that are both subcultural and have some mainstream elements in how they present themselves on the web. You have your own niche and audience, while rapidly moving up. This is something I think a lot about, and you are living it in a way —So, I wanted to ask you: Do you think that the way underground and mainstream used to be very separate entities is now changing? Are they colliding, or do you still think there’s a distinction between them?

People have their various opinions on this topic, mine is that the meaning of the term “underground” definitely has changed as a whole, especially after COVID, a period where a lot more people just started trying to make music, alone in their homes with nothing to do, just creating. I feel like that whole moment really shifted the underground as a whole and now it’s more saturated, but not necessarily in a bad way. On the internet, the underground is becoming the modern day mainstream, which is really cool. Maybe I’m biased because I’m so in the scene, but most of the people I know are not listening to the radio, they’re going on SoundCloud. They listen to their friends, they discover their favorite artists on Instagram, or Reddit. There’s a lot of artists that are maybe not having real commercial success, yet, but they’re getting a lot of streams, and they’re doing well, they have a proper fan base! Also, there used to be a lot of negativity in the underground, but everything now is just so broad, and so many people are just having fun with it. I’m meeting new friends because we’re doing shows together, going to parties together. Everything became really wholesome. We can breathe, relax.

Since there are now more platforms and more space for everyone, as you said, people are starting to let go of, perhaps, jealousy over a space they feel the need to protect.

Exactly. And it made everything less toxic because of that.

And how do you feel about collaboration? It seems like you are open to it, but also very selective. That’s what I’m getting from how you’re talking. Your music is very personal, and your relationship with your fans is personal too.

I think that my opinion is never gonna change on this, ever. And I’m satisfied with that. But, like you said, everything I do is extremely personal to me. So, it’s like, you can’t just give your baby to a random babysitter; you have to get to know them and find the right fit and vibe. That’s how I see it. If I do a collab, it’s because it was genuine. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t for money. Even if I was down to my last cent, I would never sell a feature like that. I feel like I’m selling myself short, giving away a part of me, selling out. Everything I do has to have meaning; it has to be personal and authentic. I tie that in with collaborations. I’m not opposed to them, obviously—I have some out, and some more on the way. It just has to make sense and be with the right people. Not that anyone is the wrong person or doesn’t make sense, but something has to really click.

Have you got a record coming out later this year? Give us some spoilers!

Definitely! I’m gonna drop a really good album. I can’t wait for that, I’m really happy with it because, honestly, all my sad stuff is cute, but I’m over it. I don’t really want to dwell on it. I’m really excited for my new stuff and looking forward to sharing it because it feels like a whole new phase for my sound. More mature. As I said earlier, I’ll never lose sight of who I am and what I represent, and everything I’ve built to get here. But I’m definitely treating this more as a job rather than just a fun hobby that’s getting me attention. I really want to keep pushing out things for people and keep creating, involving everyone in what it means to be in CLIP’s world.

Backing up a bit on the coolness stuff, I’ve read that you’ve been associated with the status of a new “it girl.” Sometimes defining someone, even with something very positive and cool, like ‘it girl,’ can feel cagey.

I don’t know. I love the term and everything about it. Growing up, I was so obsessed with what it meant to be an ‘it girl.’ But I realized that anyone can be that, It’s something you embody; it’s how you carry yourself as a person. I value my authenticity more than being boxed in as an ‘it girl’ because that label comes with so much behind it. It reminds me of people in school who tried to chase that status and play into someone they’re not. You know an ‘it girl’ when you see one, and that’s not something you should be labeled as. It’s about what you’re doing for the community, how your art is helping people. I think that’s what really matters: being a figure and a voice, using your platform to help people feel heard and feel good.

This really feels like a CLIP manifesto.

I’m so anti-labels.

Even regarding music genres?

Yeah, exactly. That’s why I don’t want to choose a genre for what I do. I hate being boxed in, it suffocates me. Like when I was living in Texas, I was suffocating. I hate that feeling, anything that makes me feel like that, I just tend to stay away from.

You lived in Texas, LA, and now New York, right?

Yeah.

How has each city influenced your experience? Is this journey and evolution through the places you’ve lived reflected in your sound? I feel like there’s maybe a New York phase in your music and another that feels more like Texas. Or maybe I’m just overcomplicating things and projecting.

No, honestly, that’s very real, even if perhaps it’s something that unintentionally reflects in my music and sound. You’re not the first person to tell me that. I’ve had personal friends say things like, ‘Oh, this vibe is really Texas,’ or ‘This reminds us of Texas underground music.’ I don’t do it intentionally. Despite how I feel about certain places or experiences, they define me, and my music is me. It just naturally reflects without me even thinking about it.

Team

Photography · Lea Winkler
Styling · Zoey Radford Scott
Hair and Makeup · Jeanette Williams

b+

Prioritizing preservation: reclaiming cultural significance in the modern age

We currently live in an era where preservation often takes a backseat. Whether it’s deleting social media content after a season or neglecting human relationships and valuable spaces, we often fail to recognize the cultural significance behind our actions. It’s crucial to shift our mindset and prioritize gestures, people, and the environment around us.

bplus.xyz (b+), a collaborative architecture studio operating at the nexus of theory and practice, utilizes various mediums and approaches to tackle contemporary challenges, especially those concerning socio-ecological transformation and the adaptive reuse of existing buildings. With environmentally and economically sustainable solutions, b+ embraces the potential of our existing built environment and aims to unlock its latent possibilities. Through a collaborative model, b+ emphasizes working with diverse actors and stakeholders in project development.

To start our discussion, how does bplus.xyz (b+) practice address contemporary challenges like social-ecological transformation and adaptive building reuse with economically and ecologically sustainable solutions?

Jonas Janke: We as b+ understand architecture as an open process, and view buildings as part of larger systems that require a systemic approach. We see the given framework of existing buildings and legislation as an active design tool that carries the potential for transformation within. Thus, we celebrate the potential of the existing built environment, and aim to reveal and activate the latent potentials that lie within.

To do so we are working with different formats – films, political activism, campaigns, exhibitions, symposiums and of course our projects should serve as build arguments that represent an alternative approach and perspective towards the mentioned contemporary challenges.

Jolene Lee: Continuing on what JJ said, b+ engages in formats and fields “outside” of architecture or what is expected of architecture, especially legislation and politics because we understand how the decisions made on that level affect our built environment socially and ecologically. We strongly believe that to change the system is to work in the system. 

Therefore, our design projects are not unique design approaches to the reuse of existing buildings or structures, instead, they stand as built arguments, prototypes, models, and answers to our contemporary challenges (finiteness of resources).

I’d like to focus on the renovation of the Ernst Lück lingerie factory. How does the renovation of this factory in the former GDR extend beyond surface improvements, and what wider implications does this approach hold for architectural practice?

JJ: The Antivilla is a project where we were client, investor, developer, and architect all in one. The intention was to develop a case study that defines a new way of energy-efficient refurbishment.

The name “Antivilla” doesn’t protest against the concept and typologie of a villa, but critiques the resource-intensive lifestyle of villa dwellers. It raises the fundamental question about how comfort can be defined and redefined in the future.


For this reason, the energy demand calculation was applied differently than usual and off-standard solutions were also implemented – for which any other client would very likely have sued us, or at least wouldn’t be comfortable to accept this nonconformity. But we were confident and also couldn’t sue ourselves, so everything was possible.

The abandoned 500 square meter building was not appealing for future investors due to the high demolition costs. In addition, a regulation states that any demolished building could only be rebuilt with 100 square meters of living space, 20 percent of the existing volume. Demolition therefore would have caused a massive loss of gray energy in terms of both labor and material. The concept thus contains a number of selective measures that permit its new usage as a studio and a residential building and of course the aforementioned question how comfort can be defined or redefined in times of resource scarcity and climate-crisis. 

Furthermore a financing trick was applied: When buying the property from the former owner it was said: market price minus demolition costs will be the purchase price (what we pay), since the application for the new 100 square meter house was on the table. Towards the bank/credit institutions it was said: “Well, building-shell already stands, this is our own contribution, the transformation will be financed.” Interesting is that we gained value from something which is considered to have no value – a house which shall be demolished. Nice plot twist – right?

One widespread definition of architecture is: Architecture is everything that makes us humans independent of nature. Reyner Banham (architectural theorist) understands that we need to protect ourselves from certain extremes of the environment, but that the environment should be seen as a dialogue partner to architecture – as an integral rather than an external force.

The approach of Antivilla is rethinking Reyner Banham’s concept in The Architecture of the Well-Tempered Environment (1969) and combines his two distinct principles of space creation: Constructive- and Energy-supported Space Generation.

Constructive vs. energy-supported space generation: 

This can be explained quite simply with a short story, like Reyner Banham used to describe it: 

People, imagine for example scouts, are given wood to set up camp in the forest. 

One part of the group builds a roof and protecting walls with the wood > constructive space generation. 

The other part of the group takes the wood and creates a fire to warm themselves > energy-supported space generation.

The existing exterior walls are kept like they are – not insulated – comparable to the approach where the people used the wood to build a roof and walls > constructive space building.

The core acts like the central fireplace in a classical farmhouse.

This is comparable to the fire > energy-based space formation.

Around that core are translucent curtains installed. The curtains are a key element of the project – they allow different temperature zones to be set up without having to use permanent room partitions. In Winter, the heated room shrinks to an area around the core of about 50 square meters; in the Summer, it can expand and increase the usable area to up to 250 square meters. 

In this way, the curtains are allowing flexible climatic conditions. A temperature difference of 12-13 degrees is created because the curtains are not really insulating but they are stopping the circulation and loss of warm air.

The functional principle of the Antivilla could be described as the adaptation of “The Well-Tempered” to the “Differentiated Environment” through its adaptable climate zones but can also be described as: “New Primitivism” since it is actually following well-established traditional low-tech approaches.

The project gained widespread attention due to its visually striking architecture and its controversial but comprehensible approach. It was able to leave the architectural bubble, by being featured in publications like the New York Times Magazine. Only such projects have the potential to influence collective societal perspectives and raise a new awareness.

In the opening scenes of the film “Themroc”, Faraldo presents a society where strange creatures struggle to communicate amidst a cacophony of urban sounds—cars, horns, subways, doors, engines, coughs, and the bustling footsteps of commuters. How does Faraldo’s experimental film “Themroc” (1973) relate to the renovation project’s significance?

JJ: The creation of the holes in the facade was celebrated as a collective happening. Friends and collaborators were invited, food and beer was offered and sledgehammers were prepared to be used. As an Ad-Hock-Action, holes were punched in the face where needed – towards the lake and towards the forest. Logically, in a former production building, the focus was not on the view, so these window openings were missing.

Due to the new concrete roof which replaced the contaminated asbestos roof, a structural principle was created which allowed the freedom to punch holes in the facade wherever you want – the only requirement was to keep the corners of the existing perimeter walls. It was a celebration of the new acquired freedom to spontaneously shape views. Here again the processual thinking in a project can be recognised, which was mentioned in your initial question. 

But at the same time it raises again a question of standards and definitions – is an archaic hole in the facade also a window?  

So the spontaneous, archaic and rough celebration of this action can be also found in the movie Themroc, when he decides to live isolated like a caveman in his apartment and also punched a hole in the facade as an act of protest and liberation. 

Now I would like to talk about a project that in a way brings me back to my country. What inspired the idea of “San Gimignano Lichtenberg,” and how did it contribute to reshaping the narrative of the area?

JJ: For all those who don’t know the original “San Gimignano”. San Gimignano is a famous Italian village in Tuscany, which is known for its towers. Every year thousands of tourists travel to San Gimignano to visit the small historic village, which is situated on a hill, and experience “la dolce vita”. 

Now to our project “San Gimignano Lichtenberg” and why we had to borrow the image and history of the Tuscan mountain village with the towers. 

The two towers – one the former staircase tower, the other the former coal and graphite silo – are remnants of the state-owned company “VEB Elektrokohle” from the GDR era. After the fall of the Wall, the once divided Germany became one again. Many facilities and equipment were now duplicated, including the semiconductor factory in Lichtenberg. Its use became obsolete. Due to the high demolition costs of the two concrete towers, the properties were not very attractive to investors. The ruins remained unused and empty until 2010. 

Back then, one went to the bank with the idea of transforming the former silo tower into a prototype workshop and reported that these unbreakable concrete ruins in Lichtenberg were the starting point. 

This did not meet with much favor and funding was refused. 

But the invention of the story about the town of San Gimignano Lichtenberg brought the long-awaited success in a second attempt to acquire funding. The vision of San Gimignano Lichtenberg with its powerful words and images captured the imagination of the bankers and they began to believe in the place and the project. Financing was secured. 

The realization that a strong narrative, as the first non-architectural intervention in the project, was necessary and decided whether the project would fail or not, clearly showed us as an office that storytelling is a crucial tool for us architects. 

This led, amongst other things, to the reason why today the chair at the ETH in Zurich of Arno Brandlhuber “station+” does not teach how to draw floor plans, but how to do storytelling effectively and  convincingly – because this is a skill that is not usually taught as part of an architecture degree. 

How was the meaning of the two towers enhanced in order to shift away from the perception of them as mere ruins?

JJ: The towers, as they stand there today, embody more than a mere ruinous existence. Externally, they may have not changed significantly. Programmatically, however, they have. 

From the rooftop today, one ponders the future of architecture as a response to evolving needs and values, symbolised by the towers amid shifting political, economic, and ecological landscapes. Recent crises underscore the rapidity of change in local and global affairs. The imperative for fundamental change challenges the notion of no alternatives. Cultural values are embedded in the frameworks of daily life. Amidst zoning complexities and development pressures, the question arises: how will we live together? Architects must confront issues of speculation, segregation, resource use, and technology escalation, seeking strategies for a shared and improved future through adaptive reuse of existing structures.

The b+ prototype workshop is seen as a built argument and cultural capital. 

On the one hand, it is intended to highlight the potential of existing buildings and draw attention to the seemingly “useless”. The existing stock is a valuable resource – this we all need to understand. 

On the other hand, the site offers affordable workspaces for young up-and-coming practices and serves as a location for events and symposiums. 

Keller Easterling emphasises the importance of architects considering the broader cultural impact of their designs beyond their physical form. In what manner does architecture become an argument for the ongoing change in society? And, in your opinion, why is it crucial for architects to consider the broader cultural impact of their designs beyond their physical form?

Roberta Jurcic: We as architects have a complicit role in what is happening in the world around us, and often it feels like we have no agency and are forced to act based on the economical pressure. Therefore, our office’s main challenge, as architect and transformation scientist Saskia Hebert puts it, is to establish a self-sustainable practice in times of post-growth, where we engage with the projects that align with our agenda. Once you acknowledge your responsibilities, you understand that everything you do has a broader cultural impact – from window detail, to who is your client, to what competitions you partake in, and how you challenge the status quo. JL already mentioned, changing a sentence in the law often has bigger impacts on the built environment than a design for a freestanding family house. 

Speaking of social and cultural impact, I cannot fail to mention the Mäusebunker. How does the history of this building mirror broader societal perspectives on human engagement with nature?

RJ: Storytelling, symbolism, cultures, and society have a long, intertwined history. Is there a better story than converting a bunker-like former animal testing laboratory into a showcase for cohabitation between humans and non-humans?

What challenges does the Mäusebunker face in finding a new purpose, particularly in light of contemporary legislation such as the Climate Change Act, and how does the preservation and conversion of buildings like the Mäusebunker contribute to promoting climate neutrality by 2045?

RJ: The biggest challenge lies in finding a way to fit buildings that formerly had a different use into the building requirements of the new program. From the “unexpectedness” of the existing building to fulfilling basics like ceiling height, light, and air/ventilation requirements. This challenge can also be seen within the current topic of transforming office buildings into housing. The biggest contribution in terms of climate presents understanding that if we take these acts seriously, firstly, we don’t have enough “CO2-budget” to demolish buildings. 

Secondly, understanding that those buildings are massive storages of CO2, and their demolition can be compared to cutting down parts of forests. Finally, understanding that no matter how passive a newly built house can be, it can never compete when we count the invested energy into the existing building, the energy for its demolition, the energy for a new building, and then in the end comes the “maintenance” energy difference that is insignificant.

How does Germany’s commitment to reducing CO2 emissions align with the assessment of the existing building stock’s value, particularly in terms of invested energy?

JL: If we understand today the real price of CO2 emissions in terms of not only economical but also social and ecological values, then we know that our building and construction sector cannot continue business as usual – we need a radical change. Especially after the 2019 pandemic, we have seen what today’s world is capable of (pausing rapid consumption). 

We need to see our existing building stock as “storages of CO2” (Oana Bogdan, The Demolition Drama). Instead of the tabula rasa approach, we should regard our current urban fabric as the status quo, work with the existing, and take the challenge to “build on the built” (Herzog & de Meuron, The Demolition Drama). This is one of the ways we can contribute to the commitment of reducing CO2 emissions at a much lesser cost (if we assign values to material based on its finiteness and the catastrophic consequences of its depletion). 

JJ: Indeed and we should also see this as an opportunity for us as architects. You often hear fellow architects complaining that the enormous pressure from project developers, who have to keep within budget and cut costs, which in turn can only be done by saving on materials or labor, leads to the same architecture over and over again. 

You don’t want to design buildings for which plans just have to be pulled out of a drawer and applied to plots like stamps. 

That’s why I said that we have to see it as an opportunity to be creative with the existing and work within the context of the existing. The existing always holds new tasks and challenges in store – isn’t that great? 

HouseEurope! Tell me more.

Based on everything discussed, it is within the DNA of b+ to engage with the task of dealing with the existing, with something old, considered waste or valueless by coming up with creative solutions, both legislative and economic. This spirit has resulted not only in built projects, but as well in films and initiatives, namely, Legislating Architecture, The Property Drama, and Architecting after Politics as well as RGB 165/96/36 CMYK 14/40/80/20, and Global Moratorium on New Construction.

HouseEurope!, our latest initiative, is a non-profit organization which advocates for the preservation of the existing building stock against demolition by speculation. In the long run, building on the legacy of the investigations undertaken by b+ (formerly known as Brandlhuber+), HouseEurope! aims to be a policy lab in which the research on legislating architecture can manifest in different forms such as the upcoming European Citizens’ Initiative (ECI) campaign. 

ECI is a tool for direct democracy founded by the European Commission themselves since 2011. Inspired by Swiss referendums that allow a popular vote on new laws, the ECI enables EU citizens to propose new laws or suggest changes to existing ones. 1 million EU citizens from at least seven member states can invite the European Commission to consider their proposal and dedicate a working group to assess their submitted claim. This provides citizens a direct say in the EU policy-making process and a platform to raise awareness on important issues.

HouseEurope! is a growing team of citizens that brings together diverse perspectives and expertise from the fields of architecture, labor, and politics. Backed by industry leaders and educators such as Lacaton & Vassal, Herzog & de Meuron and Architectural Council Europe (ACE), we are committed to creating precedents for the social-ecological transformation of how we live together.

Subscribe to our newsletter or take an active role here.

How does the HouseEurope! initiative aims to address the issue of building demolition driven by speculation?

Theoretically, we understand that this issue can be made aware through a trifecta of social, ecological and economic factors. If we take seriously the aim of the EU to be climate neutral by 2050, we have a lot of work to do. Looking at our building and construction sector, we are contributing 35-40% to CO2 emissions. On the other hand, the finiteness of building land and material leads to rising construction costs where the same building costs more and more. Yet, we are still building, but more of the same generic buildings that we can still afford, which is a result of reducing material and labor as mentioned by JJ previously. With these two arguments in mind, we are also facing a housing crisis where we are running out of buildings to house people. How can that be? Some food for thought.

Concretely, we identified several legal levers to incentivize the keeping of existing buildings which can be submitted through the tool of ECI that can tip the scales for the greater good. We are currently drafting the legal proposals with EU lawyers and advisors to be submitted this year. Alongside, we are also collecting successful renovation stories to showcase best practice cases of social-ecological transformation of the existing building stock through measures focused on building preservation, adaptation, renovation, and transformation.

How can we effectively promote the socio-ecological transformation of existing building stock, particularly among younger generations who will play a crucial role in deciding where and how to purchase homes in the future?

JL: To answer the first part of the question, I believe that transformation starts with education and public awareness. We are already seeing movements from the younger generation such as Fridays for Future, demanding issues to be tackled within this generation and not postponing it to the next (and the next). Perhaps the harm on the planet caused by the vicious cycle of demolition and rebuilding driven by speculation is niche knowledge today but it will very soon be common sense like deforestation and ocean pollution. As a practice, we take part in this mission to raise awareness through our previously mentioned initiative, HouseEurope!.

As to the latter part of the question or more like statement, I personally am conflicted at the thought of promoting where and how to purchase homes in the future because maybe homes should not be a commodity to be bought and traded, instead, evolve into a common way of designing spaces for and by the society by challenging the current model of asset ownership.

JJ: We have all understood (at least I hope we have) that we should stop using plastic bags and reduce traveling by plane to a necessary minimum in order to reach or come close to the climate goals we are aiming for. All these campaigns to raise awareness are being passionately supported by and thanks to the younger generations.

I think we have to continue exactly as they are showing us. Make built arguments (realized projects) accessible as positive examples. We give free guided tours of our projects almost every week for students, other architects and generally interested people. In this way you become familiar with our way of thinking and approaches and knowledge and information leave the architectural bubble.

However, easily accessible media such as film and exhibition contributions should also be pursued further. 

HouseEurope! is really exciting and has a dimension of political activism that we have never done on such a large scale before. But we are motivated, confident and optimistic that we will succeed. Imagine that, as architects, we can directly influence the legislation that affects our own actions. 

Where and how to purchase homes in the future. Good question! Especially in times when the chance that we will one day be able to call a house our own is getting smaller and smaller. The question of alternative ownership models is justified.  Or whether we should pool our strengths and financial resources and work together with several parties and people who have the same interests. 

“Renovate, don’t speculate” serves as a powerful life philosophy. In an era where preservation often takes a back seat, it’s crucial to activate existing spaces, adapting and renewing them to meet our needs. Achieving socio-ecological transformation requires empathizing with the space and the stories it carries. Personally, I’ve embraced this motto by purchasing a small space in a refurbished 1800s cotton factory, which I now proudly call home. Living here allows me to connect with local history, reflecting daily on the actions of those who worked here two centuries ago.

Credits

  1. Antivilla, 2010-2014. Berlin. Photography by Erica Overmeer. Courtesy of Erica Overmeer.
  2. San Gimignano Lichtenberg, 2012- . Photography by Erica Overmeer. Courtesy of Erica Overmeer.
  3. Mäusebunker, 2022- . Berlin. b+. Film stills. Courtesy of b+.
  4. HouseEurope! Film stills. Courtesy of House of Europe.

Claire Barrow

In The Middle of It All 

Claire Barrow’s work balances in between worlds of pop culture, politics and ethereal creatures. With a combination of the media she consumes and the topics she’s passionate about, the result is an unexpected display of these themes colliding into different disciplines. Whether it’s paintings, sculptures or illustrations she has dreamed up and then translated onto clothing, her art is boundless and unpredictable.

Born in Yarm, a town in Northern England, Barrow grew up watching Disney films on repeat and listening to bands like Slayer and Sonic Youth. Daydreams of moving out of her small town and a career in fashion didn’t seem so far-fetched when she moved to London in 2008. She studied fashion design and it was not long after, her career in fashion started to bloom. Catching the eyes of industry leaders Barrow describes her move out of the traditional fashion calendar to be more freeing and expressive. 

“I’m grateful to come from a fashion background, there’s been so many benefits and collaborations that have evolved from my history within that but I’m also grateful I can pick and choose when to enter back into that world, it’s not about money for me,” 

Barrow tells me over Zoom, behind her lies a stack of boxes and canvases ready to be moved after almost 10 years of living in the same house and studio space.

There are many passions and interests Barrow weaves into her work– her theater upbringing, fashion and makeup seamlessly appear through her work. Her most recent show, Victim of Cosmetics, presented in an office space was inspired by the wasteful nature of the beauty industry. Currently, Barrow is in the midst of expanding her studio space, where she’s excited to create more sculpture work.

In this very exclusive interview we catch up about inspiration, creating in a climate crisis and pop culture.


Jessica Canje: The venues you pick to showcase these shows are often unique like the Piccadilly Tube station or a reformed office space, how do the venues you pick intersect with that specific show?

Claire Barrow: I love to build worlds that resemble the spaces you visit in dreams, trapped places, and half-remembered theme parks from childhood, the big supermarket where your mom dragged you around that felt like an eternity. Recurring places and scenarios stick with you and get filed in your brain’s office cabinet. The feng shui is off.

The tube station (Piccadilly Circus) was thanks to Soft Opening for inviting me (thanks 👍), but otherwise, the office, the field in Hackney where I did a show, and my website reflect this kind of experience. Being big into games and theme parks as a kid, and then in my teens and 20s, creating fashion presentations and experimenting with the use of space to showcase my collections. It’s something that has stuck with me as I’ve transitioned into making art my primary practice, and I would love to explore it further going forward.

Jessica Canje: I love your current website, do you often think about how people will interact with your work virtually if they don’t get to experience it physically? What was the thought going into making your website the way it is? Can you describe it for those that may not have seen it or may never get to?

Claire Barrow: Glad you like ! So, it was created in collaboration with Rifke Sandler of DXR Zone, who formatted and coded it. The site is heavily inspired by early, now-defunct net platforms such as Active Worlds and Geocities and it functions as a hybrid of an 3D online museum, an underground bunker, and a frozen metaverse of my current art and archive, complete with a gift shop! It is designed so that you can navigate it with clicks, clicking on different areas to move around the site. When you first enter, you find yourself in a field with earth in the sky above you. Going into the pink Wendy house with the blue roof in the garden leads you underground into the foyer, where you can choose a door and explore different galleries. The galleries feature 3D renders of my art, sometimes flat to the wall, and sometimes arranged in themed rooms, secret passageways, with soundtracks and GIFs. There is the option to view it all in 2D instead, if you’re that way inclined, or too confused.

Essentially, this platform serves as a way of inviting people to view a gallery showing of my work, outside of the traditional gallery system or Instagram, irrespective of their location. So, when I’m exhibiting work physically in a specific location, I think it’s nice for people who can’t attend in person still have a way to engage with it through this platform. I understand 3D viewing rooms at Art Fairs are becoming super popular, so I’m leaning into the trend in my own way.  

 
Jessica Canje: Your last show was partly inspired by the wasteful nature of the cosmetic industry–how do you feel about the impending doom of climate change and waste? How does it translate into your work?
/
A name from your recent show Victim of Cosmetics came from a quote by Khloe Kardashian, Bury Me In Lip Kits and Eyeshadows, 2023
Is your work intuition led or is it through thought and research and much deliberation?


Claire Barrow: I got the title from this lady, Maria Gunning, Countess of Coventry, who died 1760 from the lead poisoning caused by her makeup. She was a superstar beauty icon, like the Angelina of her day, and named the “Victim of Cosmetics” in the papers.

This body of work was heavily research-based, more than most of my others, which have been led by absorbing my reference points into something initiative. But still I used intuitive techniques; like, I was often creating wet canvas then applying paint, allowing it to dry then informing the structure of the painting. Before the invention of the world in the 1640s cosmetics were referred to in general terms as ‘paint’, so I used paint, and dyed concrete powder.

My algorithm selected this project for me, it’s just something I felt I had to make due to the images and research I was receiving. Then it further developed into a response to beauty capitalism and pressure to work hard in the beauty and cosmetic production industry. The sculptures resemble inside-out makeup bags, keeping things hidden inside them, but flipped out.

I re-watched the Kardashians, from top, everyday while making the show. Which was such a slog and depressing, honestly.

But I was to try and pinpoint a time when the world changed and yassified itself, like they did, valuing beauty and perfection above all else. It was around season 12, a few years after Kylie’s Lipkit success.

Jessica Canje: You’ve been based in London for quite some time now, how is the creative atmosphere in the city at the moment?

Claire Barrow: A claustrophobic feeling of coexisting but it’s exciting and scary and fun, and being a bit shit, but that’s ok.

 Jessica Canje: It’s always exciting seeing you release new work as you’re often reinventing your output, what can we expect to see more of in the future?

Claire Barrow: I’ve just just moved my studio to Camden, the punk graveyard, I think it will have an impact shortly. I hope to give back more, to be strange and brave… and make up some dances.



Jessica Canje: Have you seen Barbie?


Claire Barrow: Yeah I liked it. It didn’t talk about anything to do with plastic, I thought it was quite interesting, you know? In the midst of a climate crisis. It’s a crazy waste of plastic, all these toys with non recycled plastic.

Jessica Canje: Do you like sci fi?

Claire Barrow: I love Sci Fi and horror and tacky action films I’ve been really into. I love John Wu films. 

Artworks

  1. THE BOTTOM, 2022
  2. ETERNITY BITCH, 2023. Installation View
  3. PIPE, Dinner Party Gallery, 2021
  4. THE ESTABLISHMENT
  5. VICTIM OF COSMETICS, 2023. Installation View. Fieldworks, 2023

    All artworks courtesy of the artist

Vanessa Beecroft

Rules of Non-Engagement

Vanessa Beecroft (b.1969) discusses how her work serves as a form of therapy, exploring personal conflicts and universal issues within a group. Her exploration of body image and gender politics has influenced her perception of herself and society. 

Her performances are known for their powerful portrayal of vulnerability and invulnerability, creating a unique interaction between the audience and the performers.The intentional discomfort provoked in her performances pushes boundaries and stimulates thought-provoking reactions.

This interview offers profound insights into Vanessa Beecroft’s artistic journey, delving into her personal investigation and its transformative impact on her life and art.

Alexandre-Camille Removille: Vanessa, throughout your career, your work has been deeply personal and introspective. Could you tell us about a specific work where personal investigation was particularly critical to its development?

Vanessa Beecroft: The way I work is to live my life like an artwork in all aspects. The hard part is life. Once that is addressed, work comes as a consequence. 

A particularly challenging experience has been the project in South Sudan, which started as a personal venture and became an intricately tangled dilemma that compromised the stability of my own family. I traveled to South Sudan immediately after the war in 2005 in the attempt to shoot a documentary film on the presence of the Church and was invited by the bishop to the local orphanage where three newborns were unable to latch onto plastic bottles. I nursed them for two weeks and continued to return to South Sudan several times while in New York I was nursing my son Virgil. I developed a bond with the twin boys and wanted to adopt them, but in the end I was persuaded by my ex-husband that it wasn’t the best option for the children. I photographed myself breastfeeding the twins in an image that suggested a white Madonna with two baby black Jesus’s which became controversial. I was commenting on the new form of neocolonialism espoused by the Church, using myself as a symbol of white righteousness. The image was purposefully ambivalent—loving, maternal and confrontational. 

Alexandre-Camille Removille:You often use performance art to express complex emotions and concepts. How do you prepare for these performances mentally and emotionally? 

Vanessa Beecroft: I don’t prepare for the performance. I prepare by living a certain life, abstaining as much as possible from the mainstream, living my own version of a contemporary romantic life and always being alert. Many times, I am not prepared for a performance. I just hope that nothing tragic happens. Artistically, regardless of whether the audience is happy or not, I am never satisfied.

 The models are given “Rules of Non-Engagement,” simple instructions to follow during the performance: do not talk, do not smile, do not move too fast, do not move too slow, wait until the end of the performance, you’re like a picture, your action reflects on the others… etc.

Alexandre-Camille Removille: What role does vulnerability play in your artistic process, and how does personal investigation tie into the therapeutic aspect of your work?

Vanessa Beecroft:Vulnerability is in dialectic with invulnerability. Two parties, the audience and the performers, are confronting each other in real time, for the duration of a few hours, without a rational awareness of what is going on or the nature of the confrontation. They are both vulnerable from different positions. The audience is vulnerable in the face of their taboos and the women are vulnerable to the audience’s gaze.

I think the models in my performances express personal issues and these personal issues become universalised by being multiplied by the many women in the groups. What was a particular instance becomes universal by extension to a larger group. I handle my personal conflicts and investigations by projecting them into a larger group of individuals more or less similar to me (at least at the beginning of the work, in the 90’s).

Alexandre-Camille Removille:Given that your work often revolves around body image and gender politics, how has your personal investigation of these themes affected your perception of yourself and society? 

Vanessa Beecroft: I wasn’t fully aware of the themes of my work. I tried to approach my performances as a portrait of a large group of women, similar to how we painted the model in art school. While portraying this woman in the performance, many other traits emerged, mostly not formal, but emotional, social and political. That is when I started to push in that direction, regardless of how that would impact myself socially. Sometimes I went really far and got in trouble.

Alexandre-Camille Removille:In your experience, how has the art world responded to the type of personal investigation you portray in your work? Has there been any resistance or particularly impactful support? 

Vanessa Beecroft: I felt as if art world abandoned me after the initial success. The other worlds embraced me, but I didn’t want to be embraced by them so I tried to use those platforms to further the themes that I couldn’t otherwise investigate. The art world may come back. I became desensitised to these ephemeral worlds that are fundamentally false. I believe in addressing the art world in a historical sense. I had fun pushing my visions, while being financially depleted by these facts.

Alexandre-Camille Removille: In many of your performances, you seem to be exploring issues related to identity and body politics. How have these performances been a means of exploring your own identity?

Vanessa Beecroft: They have been means of exploring my own identity by studying other cases and relativizing mine. Externalizing these issues through my performances perhaps avoids a true healing of the self, which recalls the acts of a saint martyr, which is a hero of mine since a young age (Joan d’Arc, Santa Lucia, Santa Barbara etc.)

Alexandre-Camille Removille:Your work is often characterized by a strong female presence. Can you talk about your intentions behind this focus? 

Vanessa Beecroft: It is self-representation. A portrait. I couldn’t accurately depict anything other than a woman. By being a woman, I can push the subject further. Experimenting on myself first and the group second.

Alexandre-Camille Removille:There have been debates about your work from a feminist perspective, with some critics arguing that it reinforces harmful stereotypes of women. How do you respond to these critiques? 

Vanessa Beecroft: By presenting a group of women naked in front of an audience I am not objectifying the women, I am showing the audience a group of naked women, which triggers them—their beliefs, self-perception, anger, prejudice, and more. The women are placed there for this reason and until they cease to provoke this reaction will continue to be exhibited. The fact that they’re exhibited as art makes them “intellectually safe,” like being on diplomatic ground.

 Alexandre-Camille Removille:You’ve spent a significant part of your career in the United States. How do you navigate your dual sense of belonging to both Italian and American cultures in your work? 

Vanessa Beecroft: I never felt as though I belonged somewhere since I was a child. I relocated to Italy when I had already learned English in London and from that point on, I felt displaced. So what I do is to assimilate the elements to which I feel closer in every culture. Italian language and artistic heritage, music, architecture, landscape. American contemporary spirit, ethnic diversity, power, politics. I absorb culture from other countries too. My work is where all of these elements converge.

Alexandre-Camille Removille: Have you ever felt any tension between your Italian roots and the global, often American-centric, art world? If so, how have you navigated this? 

Vanessa Beecroft: I am probably considered an immigrant. I will never completely adapt to the new country as I don’t need to, and I like to be alien in all countries. The proliferation of my work is probably compromised by this, but I am not running a business. As long as the work itself is not compromised I am happy with the discrepancies. 

Alexandre-Camille Removille: What learnings or insights have you gained from projects that didn’t materialise as planned?

Vanessa Beecroft: Many projects didn’t materialise as I’d hoped. The learning is that certain topics are untouchable politically and that the wider world is one. And it is all connected and self-sustaining.

Alexandre-Camille Removille:How do you decide whether to persevere with a difficult project or to let it go? Are there specific factors or considerations that guide this decision?

Vanessa Beecroft: If I decide that a project is worth pursuing, I will continue until it is completed. Unfortunately the project sometimes gets artistically weakened by complications and adversities. 

Alexandre-Camille Removille: What role does your family play in your creative process? Do they influence your work in any direct or indirect ways? 

Vanessa Beecroft: As they participate in my life, they influence the work too. They humanize me and therefore indirectly affect my perception of the world, of other human beings and my life experience. My son Dean, for example, helps me in the creation of music and photography, I photographed my daughter and in general I created a large photo album of them which isn’t public.

Alexandre-Camille Removille: Many of your performances are known to provoke discomfort in the viewer. How intentional is this in your work? What do you hope the audience gains or learns from this discomfort? 

Vanessa Beecroft: Initially I sought to apply the Brechtian idea of staging the drama, giving clues to the audience from which they might come to their own ideal conclusion or synthesis. As the audience resisted, I started pushing harder. Developing concepts to provoke a reaction. Making them graphic. I could only present the problems with paint or mise-en-scène. I thought the audience to be educated and righteous. I didn’t think the art audience needed to learn anything, but they did. I want the audience to go home touched and to think about what they saw as if it was real.

Alexandre-Camille Removille: Vanessa, looking back over your career so far, what impact do you hope your work has had?  

Vanessa Beecroft: It is almost like a dream. Today I see the world I was dreaming of as a child, visualised. Many ideas and images I had in my mind are now current. Aesthetics mostly, but also fashion and images of women, colors, patterns. Many times they appear differently to how I envisaged them, but now they exist so that I can move forwards towards new dreams.

Amanda Ba

Titanomachia, 2022. Courtesy of PM/AM

Post-humanism, Otherness and diasporic memory

Amanda Ba is a Chinese artist based in New York City. Born in Columbus, Ohio, she spent the first five years of her life with her grandparents in Hefei, China before moving to New York and graduating from Columbia University in 2020 with a BA in Visual Arts and Art History. 

Ba’s work is influenced by critical race and queer theory. By utilising these frameworks, she aims to explore more nuanced understandings of identity and examine themes such as post-humanism, Otherness and diasporic memory. Through her art, Ba challenges traditional notions of identity and representation, and creates works that are thought-provoking and impactful. The feeling of attachment and nostalgia and a desire to reconnect to China are influential in Ba’s work. Her goal is not to flatten identity, but to challenge the notion of what it looks like and formulate a more complex way of understanding identity, which creates a tension in her work. Her scenes astray from a larger hypothetical world visualised through her personal narrative imbued of a specific colour code intertwining between red and green. Ba’s use of various mediums, including sculpture and installation, allows her to experiment with different forms of expression.

You were born in Ohio, United States but raised by your grandparents in Hefei, Anhui Province, China, until the age of 5. After that, you settled back in Columbus, Ohio. What are your earliest memories being in Hefei? Are there any elements from that time that you like to draw back into your practice?

How did you immerse yourself into the arts, especially within figurative painting?

I have this specific memory of my grandmother dropping me off at preschool for the first time —back then, preschool was just a small, two-room building within the apartment complex where my grandparents lived. When she left and closed the door behind her, I thought that it meant I would never see her again, and dread washed over me. I think I cried all day, until she picked me up and explained that she would always come back to get me. 

I also have a lot of memories of food, going to the local science museum, and picking small snails off of garden walls along the sidewalk. Mostly when I think back to that time, I remember a feeling of strong, inseverable attachment to my grandparents. That feeling of attachment, of nostalgia, and wanting to reconnect and re-understand China always factors into my work. I feel lucky that I was able to experience growing up in China, so that I always have an entry point back in. 

Drawing was an early hobby of mine that developed when I was in China. My grandfather was an industrial drafter during the Cultural Revolution, so he always had lots of nice paper and pens, and would teach me how to render things in the third dimension. I latched onto the human body pretty early — it has always been a central focus of mine.

You graduated in 2020 with a B.A. in Visual Arts and Art History from Columbia University in New York. What has your major taught you?

Art History taught me how to be intentionally referential with my work, and that there’s always room to rework and redefine the canon. Studying the canon made me realise that perhaps I would rather dwell in the under-commons. It also taught me not only to hone in on the artist’s life, but to contextualise the way they were working within certain political and geographical conditions. 

How is the landscape of New York influencing your work? What is your interaction like with the City?

New York is challenging, but it’s a playground. It’s a hard city to live in — even daily tasks are ridden with obstacles — but the challenge keeps me energised. The challenge is fun. 

In an interview for Columbia Daily Spectator, you’ve quoted a saying that goes ‘the more words are written about an art piece, the less people see it’. That being said, is there an element within your paintings you would want people to absolutely perceive?

That’s a quote I actually regret saying. Well, maybe not regret, but I did say that in my freshman year, as an 18 year old who didn’t really know what their own work was about. I think because I couldn’t properly verbalise it, I came up with an excuse that left it all up to audience interpretation. Now I write and talk extensively about my work, and I wouldn’t be caught dead saying that. I think that art writing is actually crucial, and good art writing expands on the meaning of the work, rather than telling the audience what to think. Good art writing poses new questions and contextualises the work in a way that makes the audience curious for more, not satisfied with a conclusion. 

One thing that I hope people get from my work is that I’m working from a place of tension between representing identity and rendering it unintelligible. I hope that it’s clear that my goal is not to flatten identity by making paintings that are simply about ‘being Asian’ or ‘being an Asian woman,’ but rather challenging the notion of what ‘being Asian’ looks like in the first place. In this sense, one could even say that the paintings are more about ‘being American’ than ‘being Asian.’ Ultimately, I’m trying to formulate a more complicated and uncomfortable way of understanding identity. 

In your paintings you depict surreal scenes involving bodies and animals, more specifically women and American bullies characterised by their seemingly equal relationship.

Significant otherness, which was coined by Donna Haraway in her book The Companion Species Manifesto in 2003, is that precise bond between the lives of dogs and people. Dogs are here to live with, not here just to think with. What made you want to explore that thematic?

The series draws from the book Animacies by Mel Chen, and from The Companionship Species Manifesto by Donna Haraway. Animacy in linguistics is the quality of sentience/liveliness/human-ness that a noun has, which then has grammatical and syntactic consequences. Mel Chen tugs the concept of animacy away from linguistics to argue that animacy is just as applicable in queer and race relations, one example being how ‘dehumanising insults hinge on the salient invocation of the nonhuman animal.’ The Chinese title of this painting ‘狗女人放狗屁’ translates literally to ‘dog woman releasing dog fart’, but it is actually a combination of two common insults, the first half meaning ‘bitch’ and the latter half meaning ‘bullshit.’ To tack on ‘dog’ in front of an animate ‘woman’ transforms it into an insult, just as tacking on ‘dog’ in front of an inanimate ‘fart’ also transforms it into an insult. In these cases, a very notion of a dog is dehumanising and degrading, revealing a human-centric metric of worthiness and value. In the painting, the woman and the dog take on the same stance (known in Western yoga practices as ‘downward dog’), but our desire to project a human understanding of gesture prescribes sexuality unto the former and playfulness unto the latter.

Bitch and Bull, 2021. Courtesy of the artist

In The Companionship Species Manifesto, Haraway makes a case for reevaluating our relationship with all our worldly co-habitants, dogs being a significant example of the intimacy and historical co-evolution that humans are capable of. However, the value of dogs’ lives do not and should not depend on their obedience to or intimacy with us, (i.e. if they are loved/accepted by us or if they make us feel loved). Marginalised communities have long been put down by being compared to animals (dogs, monkeys, general pre-homosapien ‘savages’), and thinking of ourselves as truly no better than dogs is the first step in working towards a non-anthropocentric post-human future.

You employ a specific use of colours in your artworks with a very appealing dramatic red and an unnatural neon green. Could you delve into your colour code and the connections it holds with your background?

Would there be another colour you would want to introduce more frequently? What would be the symbolism?

That series started because I wanted to practice using the colours red, and the colour green is the complementary colour on the colour wheel. But, because red and green often look festive and Christmas-y, I wanted to use the neon green to avoid that effect and create a more psychological atmosphere — if you put two complementary colours that have the same value right up against each other, the eye will create this vibrational effect that I find very effective. 

Right now I’m trying to work in more drab colours — restraining your use of colour can be just as hard as amplifying it. I’d love to make a series of black paintings one day, like Goya. 

The nude women you paint present such strength about them. There’s a mix of grotesque but also realistic elements. What is your idea of beauty?

My idea of beauty is self-assuredness, and that finding the thing that works for you is sexy. 

American Western, 2022. Courtesy of Gagosian

Would you say your artworks are self-portraits?

Yes and no. Painters always say that any painting of a person that is not of a specific other likeness (as in, a figure you make up vs. an image of a celebrity) is in some ways a self-portrait. Even a portrait of someone else can be a self-portrait in the sense that it portrays the artist’s relation to the sitter. But I don’t think of my paintings as self-portraits unless specified otherwise — I use my own face and body for reference, but I distort them to my liking. Maybe these characters are more like my kin. 

What’s the process behind an artwork like usually? Do you sketch it before hand or do you just directly, sort of intuitively, paint? How is your research process like? How long does one painting take you and do you ever work on different paintings simultaneously?  Do you prefer focus on one canvas?

At this point in my career, I’m mostly working towards shows, so first I think about what the overall theme of the upcoming show is, and how I want all the paintings to interact with one another and comment upon the theme. Then I read, watch films, go to galleries/museums and browse through images until I know what the content of the painting should be. Then I make several sketches until I’m satisfied with the composition and then I take my reference images. Once I’ve collected everything I need, that’s when I begin the painting. I usually focus on one image at once, but sometimes I start the under-paintings of two or three and leave the paintings that are harder to figure out to marinate at this stage, before going back to them months later.

The figures you paint almost seem like sculptures in their shapes and their volumes. Would that be a medium you would want to explore too? There is also a certain cinematography that envelops your paintings, almost stills from scenes. Would you explore film making too?

Yes, I have every intention of exploring sculpture/installation and film. I think it would be refreshing and surprising to gain literacy in a new medium — painting is so familiar and legible to me. That’s actually happening very soon, so stay tuned…

I watched an interview of yours published 4 years ago, in which you showed your paintings and shared how the atmosphere of those was similar to your dreams. I noticed a shift in composition and technique in comparison to now. Of course artists evolve constantly but I was curious to know if there was anything specific that had happened that instigated this new direction, almost allegorical?

I think what you’re picking up on is that my research process changed a lot, and that’s really affected the kinds of images I come up with. Perhaps before they relied more on personal experience, and now I’m trying to move things beyond just how I feel. The theory that I read helps me to connect what I’m feeling to larger events, and opens up avenues for research. For example, I’m currently working on a show that is Ohio-themed. Maybe 4 years ago, I would have just thought about experiences I had while in Ohio, but now, I’m thinking of my time growing up there as a gateway into Middle American life: white culture, the ideological and political consequences of a swing state and late-capitalist revival of post-industrial cities. 

Dinnertime, 2020. Courtesy of the artist

You used to sell one-of-a-kind handmade and hand painted items and clothing before, and had gained quite a following on your Depop account. We have seen artists before collaborating with brands, for instance, American photographer and artist Andres Serrano with Supreme in 2017, Ghanaian painter Amoako Boafo with Kim Jones for Dior Spring Summer 2021 and Spanish artist Santiago Sierra for Balenciaga Spring Summer 2023. Would you ever envisage collaborating with a fashion brand? If so, which one and why?

I’d totally do that, but I wouldn’t want it to be like something I painted printed on a t-shirt. I’d love to go technical and make a bag or shoe collab, something structural and sculptural that takes a little more thought and work to design. I also thought the Prada x Elmgreen and Dragset collab was cool — that set of a Prada store out in the middle of nowhere, along a highway. That one defied the typical art x fashion collab (less like wearable art and more like an outdoor installation about fashion). I think the context of the collab really matters too, so it’s hard to pick a fashion brand without knowing the intended audience or the campaign. But maybe Margiela — Galliano’s own eponymous brand was already fusing art and fashion from the very beginning. Other than that, maybe something more democratic, like Uniqlo. I love Uniqlo. 

Your first solo exhibition Homecoming was actually in Hefei, China at the Lai Shaoqi Art Museum. What was that homecoming like for you?

Homecoming was an exhibition, but it was also something of a performance. It became a literal homecoming — I was swarmed with local press, who were interested not so much in my artwork but in my backstory, which could easily be framed into something along the lines of ‘Chinese girl born in the USA loves her family and her homeland so dearly that she has returned to her homeland order to introduce her Western-educated art to her hometown!’ As I was making the works and news of the show began to spread, I could feel the increasing pressure and expectation of this sentiment. In the end, it was the desire to grasp what is likely the only opportunity for my grandparents to see an exhibition of mine that overrode the many forms of quiet tension I felt while producing this body of work.

You had your second solo show, The Incorrigible Giantess, last year at the PM/AM Gallery in London. Do you have any plans of showcasing your work this year, and if so, where?

I have a show in Columbus, Ohio coming up in September that I’m prepping for. Maybe that will be another homecoming of sorts. 

Credits

Artworks · Courtesy of the artist, Gagosian, Gladstone and PM/AM

Blackhaine

Blackhaine’ poetic yet brutal investigation of reality with unique soundscapes, choreography and cinematographic visuals.

Tom Heyes, also known by his artistic moniker Blackhaine is a rapper, poet and choreographer from Lancashire, UK. Known by many for his projects with Kanye West (Donda 1 and 2) and more, the multidisciplinary artist has forged for himself a solid path, establishing his own unique artistry. Chicago drill, industrial, ambient, experimental hip hop are some of the genres combined within Heyes’ unique soundscapes. With producer Rainy Miller, Heyes worked on delivering visceral releases first Armour, then And Salford Falls Apart. Released in June 2022, Armour II follows the trail of the two earlier bleak releases, perhaps an ending, nonetheless part of the bigger journey the audience embarks on when listening to Heyes. With tracks featuring the likes of Blood Orange, Iceboy Violet, Moseley, Richie Culver and Space Africa, Heyes is also giving space for other artists to enter his universe. Re-contextualising his anger, Heyes delivers poetic yet brutal narratives which juxtaposed with cinematographic visuals, immerse the viewer into Heyes’ inner world. Choreography plays a pivotal part in his practice as he continues to investigate reality. 

Here photographed in London by Berlin-based photographer Joseph Kadow, we witness an artist in his element, creating as he breathes, once again narrating a story of his own. Heyes talks through his genesis, the process and inspirations behind his body of work, spanning across choreography, music, spatial design. 

When and how did you start? 

I’ve been interested in film since I was young, from there I started to learn about sound and movement.

I held an interest in art and between jobs managed to make some decent pieces and work on other’s people’s visions for quick cash. 

During the pandemic I started creating my own film and sound pieces, releasing my first track Moors – and some film projects I created + a project named Armour made in collaboration with Rainy. 

Blackhaine is a node to the French cult classic La Haine on violence and inequality in the suburbs of Paris. You come from Lancashire, UK. How has the landscape of living on the margins and of social and regional inequality, influenced your practice? 

I’ve always felt detached from the current sound, I think being in isolated yet restricted places; Blackpool, Blackburn ect you have no expectations of being accepted by a mainstream crowd. This gives room for experimentation. 

I read Passing Time by Michel Butor recently and was inspired by the detail he created in his idealised Manchester, taking monuments/icons of the city and glitching them. It’s what I had been doing to Lancashire. 

Darker versions of locations feature in my work such as the M6 or the Moors, Rawtape and I used scans of Blackburn high street and Blackpool tower to create a world in Hotel. In my writing I talked about experiences here in tracks like Saddleworth or Stained Materials. 

“Using ultra realistic scenes that verge on boredom and taping a bleak-psychedelic lens to the camera was a huge influence in building the Blackhaine world.”

How is Manchester’s cultural environment and how is it influencing your writing? 

The environment is too self contained, and concerned with itself and it’s history when what we should be doing is looking outwards and ahead. There’s not much interesting happening here at the moment because there’s too many people left over from the 10s. 

The city hasn’t impacted my writing aside from being influenced by Joy Division. 

Drill, experimental hip-hop, ambient, industrial and electronic are genres part of your soundscapes. Are you more influenced by Chicago Drill or Brooklyn Drill? What are some of your musical influences? 

I’ve been into Chicago Drill since the start, however it was UK Drill that got me into writing.
I would say the industrial sound was an influence but the earlier post-punk side, not as much what’s happening there now.
At the moment I’ve been listening to Carti, Zone 2 and some more experimental stuff whilst I
work on my album. 


First Armour, then And Salford Falls Apart. How does Armour II succeed to these? 

There’s the obvious narrative link.

“Sonically I used a softer palette and wrote about a contracted hate that became inverted by gradual unease and paranoia.”

I put more focus on working with melody and traditional songwriting before my album. 

Armour II is death of Blackhaine before a burial. 

How do you usually work with producer and composer Rainy Miller? 

I write alone and with the ideas Rainy sent, before we sent parts back and forth online but with Armour II we started renting a studio together with Space Afrika so we could spend time in there. 

You showcase a unique choreography rooting itself from an extreme creative process. Could you talk more about this? Who are some of your favourite choreographers or a contemporary dance piece that moves you? 

My choreographic style is rooted in perversion and deconstruction of traditional technique, not an anti-technical statement but a separatist practice. I utilise improvisation and sculptural design in the process instead of overt unison structure, and when the work features this form of choreography it’s effect is exhaustion and depletion to the body/mind of the performer, allowing accessibility into new realms.

Choreography a subliminal art, the same modes I work in with writing and sound. The narrative structure of Armour II leading from my previous work is a context for myself and the listener however it is no anchor, this is world building with intent to suture between and deconstruct inside of reality, whilst considering base reality and boredom, hence the exhaustive features within my work. I was initially more interested in examples of choreography I could find in day to day life, the way the bodies on top deck moved whilst the bus turned a corner, a drunk body or the result of excessive strain on specific muscle in the arm.
Pre-tense is naturally prevalent in choreography.

“I think embodiment kills honest movement to a degree and my service as an artist is to
investigate reality within abstract art.”

My favourite choreographer is Tatsumi Hijikata, I developed my practice whilst watching Butoh videos and abusing drugs in my room and hotel apartments, around the time of the Manchester spice epidemic.
I’m watching a lot Gisèle Vienne, Louise Vanneste, studying Sun Ra’s relationship with dance and sound. I would say Philippe Grandrieux’s use of movement in his work as well as Steve McQueen’s in Shame has impacted my choreography also. 


How do you envision the live shows and how do you feel about finally being able to perform gigs in front of physical crowds? Visceral stage performances, atmospheric, intimate and raw sets are some of the comments from people who have already been to your live shows. How do you want the listening experience to be? How do you approach the spatial design situation too?

It’s great, during the first tour I worked intensively with spatial and atmospheric design.

“I want every show to be different, switching between shows of an exhaustive release for the audience and myself and shows that focus more on subtleties with performance and design.”

I work with heat and scent a lot, as well disorientation from lighting source. Playing drill between harsh noise/drone, these are elements that I work with impulsively, so I live edit the lighting, track list and other utilities whilst on stage with my team.

I don’t believe that playing all the hits equals satisfaction for the audience I want to create a journey for people to follow, experiencing the themes within my work physically and mentally having to endure moments discomfort before being allowed to feel gratification by silence or melody.

The feedback I have had has been great, everyone I have spoke too has had a different experience I’m grateful for everyone who comes to a Blackhaine show to experience. Thank you.

How did your collaboration with Blood Orange and Icebox Violet for ‘Prayer’ unfold?

I had the ideas of the track for a while, I was sent a rough loop from Rainy that triggered something in me. I kept revisiting the narrative and developing this film scene I had in mind, even down to the shots I wanted in the film that was made.

In And Salford Falls Apart and previous releases I didn’t work with other voices. A design focus of Armour II was to curate outside artists and let them inhabit my narrative, even to allow this to influence and lead me at times. I wrote to Iceboy Violet and Blood Orange to ask them to feature on the track and they delivered these beautiful verses back.

The theme of this issue is IN OUR WORLD, in your mind, what does England mean to you?

“Apathy.”

Now that Armour II is out for everyone to experience, what is next for you? 

I am building an infrastructure named Hain. This will act as a container for future work/curation and ideas beyond Blackhaine and an investment in culture.

Team

Talent · Tom Heyes (Blackhaine)
Photography · Joseph Kadow
Creative Direction · Jade Removille
Fashion · Azazel
Grooming · Linus Johansson
Photography Assistant · Masamba Ceesay
Fashion Assistant · Olivia Abadian

Patrick Bienert

East End of Europe

Credits

Photographs · Courtesy of Patrick Bienert

Mohamed Bourouissa

Documenting the experiences of disenfranchised groups and different pockets of inequality in contemporary society

Goldsmiths Centre for Contemporary Art presents Mohamed Bourouissa’s first public UK solo show ‘HARa!!!!!!hAaaRAAAAA!!!!!hHAaA!!!’, comprised of a selection of photography, videos, sounds and installations from 2003 onwards, with a particular focus on the legacy of colonialism.  

Through a combination of mixed media, the Algerian-born artist explores a vast range of complex socioeconomic issues and teases out tensions between different social contexts. In travelling to different places and engaging with groups of locals, Bourouissa’s in-depth locational research addresses notions of collective histories, identity and social space, and allows him to share the stories of marginalised communities from imbedding himself within them. 

Bourouissa documents the experiences of disenfranchised groups and different pockets of inequality in contemporary society, with a particular emphasis on the destructive remains of colonialism and the current realities of racial and socioeconomic inequality – something that is interesting to observe through the lens of a gallery context. 

‘HARa!!!!!!hAaaRAAAAA!!!!!hHAaA!!!’ delves into Bourouissa’s different photographic and filmic techniques. With irreverence and intensity, Bourouissa depicts how the individuals in his work use the tools at their disposal to navigate their situation. From grainy smartphone images and street photography to canonical art historical framings of Parisian street life, the exhibition showcases Bourouissa’s ability to articulate insightful statements on contemporary image culture and circumstantial truths. 

Mohamed Bourouissa currently lives and works in Paris, France and has exhibited at institutions and biennials including the Paris Museum of Modern Art, The Centre Pompidou, the Barnes Foundation, the Stedelijk Museum, Haus der Kunst, the Berlin Biennale, the Milan Triennial and more.

The exhibition runs until 1st August at Goldsmiths Centre for Contemporary Art. 

Discover more on GCCA

James Barnor

Exploring the nuances and societal transitions in the 1950s and 1960s, as London was blossoming into a multicultural capital

London’s Serpentine Gallery presents an overview of the career of British-Ghanaian photographer James Barnor. Working over two continents and over six decades as a studio portraitist, photojournalist and Black lifestyle photographer, Barnor’s career covers a multitude of photographic genres and offers a wider social commentary, documenting major socio-political changes in London and Accra.

On the cusp of Ghana’s Independence in the early 1950s, Barnor set up his famous Ever Young studio in Accra. Arriving in London towards the end of the decade, he began working with the South African magazine Drum, capturing the experiences of the African diaspora and the style and creative spirit of the period. Barnor returned to Ghana in the 1970s, where he continued his work with portraiture, established himself in the music scene and created the country’s first colour processing lab.

Barnor’s street photography explores the nuances and societal transitions in the 1950s and 1960s, as London was blossoming into a multicultural capital. Returning to the city 1994, Barnor’s work focussed on documenting the Black communities that had settled in London – something that had previously been documented by mostly white, European photographers. His portraits of the African diaspora in London focus on the members of the Black Power Movement, while also capturing different fashion trends present in Britain’s Black community during the 1960s.

Barnor’s body of work spans six decades and possesses a clarity of vision and a sense of community and sensitivity that he both extends towards and brings out in his subjects. The Serpentine’s exhibition displays Barnor’s work from 1950-80 and draws from his archive of around 32,000 images, all mapping the flourishing cultures of two cities and reflecting Barnor’s ceaseless uplifting and creative energy.

‘James Barnor: Accra/London’ runs until 22nd October at the Serpentine North Gallery.

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