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Mes: mayo 2020

David Vail

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 11 Space & Composition · Spring Summer 2020
Published · Print Page Unnumbered

when I was a kid, I was being dragged around a garden-centre type 

shop by my mum, from what I can remember, I was doing her head

in something horrible, so to distract me she told me she was going 

to buy me some seeds to grow my own plant when we got home 

the patch I chose to plant was right beside the garage at the back

of the garden, perfectly viewable from the kitchen window

my well renouned patience did not set me up in good stead 

for the coming weeks 

slowly but surely the seeds gave life to a sunflower, luckily it was 

the start of summer so – even though Ireland isn’t synonymous 

with beaming sunlight, I figured it would have a chance in this patch

by midsummer my sunflower had become somewhat of an 

attraction to the neighbours in the street, as it now stood at least 6 feet 

high, boasted a thick, strong stalk supported by a piece of bamboo

the summer inevitably came to an end, and the plant withered

but the memory of this flower has lived so strongly in my subconscious, 

veritably popping into the forefront of my mind from time to time 

i often ponder why the image of the sunflower has left such a lasting memory 

why I have chosen to preserve this over others 

i have always found myself distracted by the passing world, which would 

get me in trouble in school for daydreaming – but I couldn’t help but wonder 

where my daydreams would take me, what else would I see that would have the 

lasting effect of the sunflower 

Credits

Photography and words DAVID VAIL
Inspiration and collaboration BENEDIKTE KLUVER
Models ABI FOX, TONG
www.davidvail.co.uk
www.benediktekluver.com

Darby Milbrath

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NR · World
Published · Online

Feature · Darby Milbrath
Words · Ellie Brown

«I see my art as a collaborative spiritual practise»

The significance of the theater in Darby’s art practice began in childhood and later into a profession as a contemporary dancer. Her commitment was primarily to the technique of the late pioneer, José Limón, which is based on the falling and recovering of a human body. It explores the adaptability of a body in space, indulging and resisting the polarities of high and low, swinging from one extreme to another like a pendulum. The tension and duality of these echoes in the complexities, miseries and beauties of human life as a trope of Melpomene and Thalia, the theatrical masks of tragedy and comedy. In this dance, bodies are instruments in an orchestra, working alone or in solidarity, suspending and releasing, giving and taking, descending and ascending. The cyclical nature of ebb and flow, death and rebirth are ongoing themes explored in Darby’s paintings which express empathy, sexuality, sorcery, womanhood and ceremony. Her paintings are intimate and confessional self-portraits of her life as a young woman. A mystic, Darby believes her work is a collaborative process with the spirits and a parting of the veils between the realms.

When did you start painting and creating?

In childhood I began as a dancer. After training at The Winnipeg School of Contemporary Dancers, I continued dance and choreography professionally. In the last three years drawing and painting have become my primary focus.

How do you find the balance between the vision you have and the mediums you are using?

My work is a practise of letting go of my own ideas and expectations so that I can listen to the guidance of the spirits and my intuition. I see my art as a collaborative spiritual practise. By painting and studying everyday I hope to better understand my mediums so that I can more skillfully and freely denote without doubt.

What inspired your style of work?

As a dancer I understand line, movement, expression of emotion, harmony and music, all which inspire my painting. I was immersed visually with female bodies in motion, on stage, backstage, in costume, in the nude and in a myriad of emotions for most years of my life. These images still permeate into all of my drawings and paintings. My flat backgrounds are inspired by theatre stage set designs. Theatrical elements such as the colours and textures of stage curtains and costumes, masks, props and lighting as well as the mystery, drama, superstition and magic of the theatre often come to play in my paintings.

Where do you get inspiration from? Are there any particular artists, photographers, painters or designers you look up to their works?

I’m currently looking at works by Odilon Redon, Marc Chagall, Edvard Munch,  Raoul Dufy, Emily Carr, Van Gogh and  Édouard Vuillard for inspiration.

How long does it take to create a piece? What is the process being it?

The time fluctuates depending on my emotional state and level of resistance. A painting can take as little as one hour and as long as half a year. I approach a canvas similarly to performance which is very ritualistically and superstitiously. The canvas which I stretch and prepare myself is done and ready on an easel. I will often burn herbs and rub oils onto the backs of the paintings and myself for luck. A candle is usually lit. Always I paint to music. Always I physically warm up my body so that I’m loose and present. I paint from memory and imagination, without a plan, reference or sketches, so I try to be as open and physical as possible to avoid fear or judgment to cloud my sense of intuition and play.

Would you say that there is a main thread connecting all your artworks and if so, which is it?

My work is diaristic. I am the thread connecting the artworks. Femininity, nature, mysticism, and dance are all very strong themes in my life and painting. I am deeply connected to my childhood which was spent on the West Coast gulf islands in Canada where the nature is overwhelmingly wild, fruitful and erotic. Since childhood I have had visions and hauntings of ghosts and spirits. Mysticism and magic are embedded into all my works. I am closely knit with my sisters who I paint metaphorically in nearly every painting. Sisterhood and expressing the lightness/darkness of being a woman is an ongoing theme in my work. All of these elements weave and dance together on the stage of my canvas.

 

What kind of talks would you like to hear around your artworks? 

I need to stay present in the process of creating rather than in the consequential conversations of the work that is finished. I need to just keep going on in the dark, forward.

Credits

darbymilbrath.com

Designers

  1. Mirror
  2. Women in the Field
  3. The Fortune Teller’s Tent
  4. The Flowering
  5. Fruits Of Paradise
  6. Red Moon In The Orchard
  7. Dancers in the wings

Clemente Vergara

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 11 Space & Composition · Spring Summer 2020
Published · Print Page Unnumbered

Arcosanti

An aperture into architect Paolo Soleri’s City of Future, an urban laboratory

ARIZONA, UNITED STATES—I arrived to Arcosanti late on an afternoon, after driving many hours from Monument Valley through Sedona. I was really looking forward to visit Arcosanti, but having seen the wonders of those natural reserves, canyons and spectacular landscapes, I believed Arcosanti would not impress me… and I was wrong… I didn’t know much about Paolo Soleri’s project. I just knew it was an unfinished experimental city created during the 70s designed to be self-sufficient, and that we were going to sleep in The Sky Suite, the room with the best views you could rent in Arcosanti.

Once there, I was amazed by the project, the buildings, the people living, working and studying there. Also I got interested about the Architect (Paolo Soleri’s) work. I was lucky that in the room there was a huge book that gathered his drawings and ideas about futuristic cities. I also learned that the name of Arcosanti came from two italian words «Cosa» and «Anti», that literally means, «before things». I learnt also about the concept of Arcology, which comes from putting together Architecture and Ecology, and the importance of that concept in the current society of «take make dispose» that is ruining our planet. 

I will always remember the days I spent in such a special city, that keeps alive Paolo Soleri’s ideas.

Credits

Photography and words CLEMENTE VERGARA
www.clementevb.com
www.instagram.com/clementevb
www.arcosanti.org

Yoann Bourgeois

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NR Vol. 11 Space & Composition · Spring Summer 2020
Published · Unnumbered

Feature · Yoann Bourgeois
Words · Ellie Brown

«The relationship with physical forces has an eloquent capacity that can be very big; it has the kind of expression that is universal.»

Online footage of performances choreographed by Yoann Bourgeois, such as the 2014 piece, Celui qui Tombe, can be disorientating to watch. Six performers navigate a suspended platform which moves and tilts at varying, and at times, uncompromising, angles. At first, the six are disengaged from one another but, as they become increasingly restricted in their movements, begin to interact as a group. At moments, members of the group fracture off, only to realise that they cannot go it alone; at one point, the six appear increasingly discombobulated as Frank Sinatra’s My Way plays eerily in the distance. Celui qui Tombe becomes, like many of Bourgeois’ performances, the universe – society as a whole – in a microcosm. There is something quite fantastical about Bourgeois’ work, as is the case in La mécanique de l’Histoire, an instalment at the Panthéon in Paris in the Autumn of 2017 – the third edition of the annual ‘Monuments en mouvement’ event organised by the Centre des Monuments Nationaux. Within the interior of the Panthéon, a series of separate performances take place simultaneously; like the dancers in Celui qui Tombe, these performances are detached, but not unconnected. In front of François-Léon Sicard’s monument to The National Convention, four performers, clad in grey, climb a spiral staircase, each taking turns to fall off the steps onto a trampoline enclosed below within the rotating structure; which, in turn, springs the fallen performer back onto the staircase. Ad Infinitum. 

Nothing is left to chance in Bourgeois’ work – not the choice of the four figures in grey who, from, from a certain angle, seem indistinguishable from Sicard’s figures, nor the precision of each movement. For Bourgeois, who was trained in circus art at the prestigious Centre national des arts du cirque, it is our relationship with time, space and the physical forces that is central to his practice. His performances unsettle the equilibrium and, often, induce a sense of vertigo, but it is through this process of exploring the constraints of the physical forces that our humanity is brought to the fore. Though it can be almost reassuringly soothing to watch as a figure repeatedly falls and rises on a rotating structure, it also brings to mind an endless stream of questions.

Namely, given the importance of site specificity in Bourgeois’ work, can watching footage of performances of La mécanique de l’Histoire come close to capturing the overall experience? The question of recording presents its own set of rules, Bourgeois believes, as different mediums present different possibilities; ‘I think, if we try to transfer living art into video, we will only be disappointed, but that goes both ways; things can appear in the video that aren’t possible to see in real life.’

How did you develop your practice?

It starts with where my practice came from, as a child who had this desire to never stop playing. There’s a moment when a child chooses a direction, as part of growing up, and that is a step that I never managed to take. Fortunately, I found the circus, which allowed me to remain undisciplined. Within circus, I realised that what really resonated with me was the relationship between physical forces. Of course, circus isn’t just about this but, personally, I wanted to be able to make closer contact with these forces. So, I worked with a team to build structures that would enable me to research the interactions that we have with the physical forces. 

What is the relationship between the body of the performer and the structure of the set? 

I would call it a device rather than a set; it’s through this device that the individual becomes a subject. The devices amplify specific physical phenomenon. In science, we’d call them models – they’re simplifications of our world that enable me to amplify one particular force at a time. So, the individuals, when they become the subject of these particular model worlds, they are able to engage with forces in a new context. Together, this ensemble of devices, this constellation of constructed devices, tentatively approaches the point of suspension. And so, this makes up a body of research; it’s a life’s research that doesn’t have an end in itself. 

Is the space that surrounds a device important to the overall performance? 

Yes it is; all the performances are site specific, so when I talk about ‘suspension’, that also involves the relationship that the device has with the environment. As such, the art work is poetically enhancing the environment, and vice versa; the environment is poetically enhancing the device. I’m looking for something that works both ways, and it’s also through this that I’m looking for the point of suspension. 

La mécanique de l’Histoire, performed at the Panthéon in Paris, embodies that relationship between the device and the environment – would you be able to explain the concept behind that work? 

So, it was following the same line of enquiry as global research into the point of suspension. The Panthéon is emblematic of our history, and so I wanted to make something that would be appropriate to that space. It’s a place that embodies the footprints of our history, a history that is both eventful and full of conflict. So I presented a series of devices which could be seen in 360 degrees; the audience could move around the devices because they were all placed in spaces that would allow for that circular movement. In the centre of the space, there was Foucault’s Pendulum, a device which, in the nineteenth century, provided tangible and visible proof that the earth turns.  At the heart of this work was this fascination with movement. 

What is the relationship between physics and performance?

The relationship with physical forces has an eloquent capacity that can be very big; it has the kind of expression that is universal. This is something I look for through my work, because the physical phenomenon is something that happens across cultures. 

Are the costumes of performers important or secondary in a performance? 

No, the costumes are actually quite important for exploring the relationship with the physical phenomenon. The costumes help to create something concrete. I’m trying to make our humanity visible, it’s not about being a specialist acrobat or a dancer. I’m playing with the most elementary gestures of our daily lives – like, just standing up, for example. The costumes work to enhance this elementary simplicity that I’m looking for.  

How do you want viewers to engage with your work?

I think it links a bit to the previous question, in the sense that I’m trying to generate empathy from the audience. The essential question is one of relationships, I’m considering the idea that, as beings, we are about relationships. A performance is something that only exists through the relationships of the present; it exists only here and now. Something that is extremely important to me is seeing our relationship with the universe, in times of ecological catastrophes, looking at our relationship to the earth. And it’s here that the poets have their role to play. 

Credits

Photography GÉRALDINE ARESTEANU
www.instagram.com/yoann_bourgeois
www.instagram.com/celuiquitombe

Designers

  1. La mécanique de l’Histoire (All photos)

Charlotte Lapalus

Posted on by nr

NR · World
Published · Online

Breathe

Team

Photography Charlotte Lapalus
Photo Assistant Romain Foucque
Fashion Charlotte Faucon and Florentin Glémarec
Hair and Make-Up Caroline Augier
Model Romane Greze from Premium Models


Designers

  1. Coat and Trousers HED MANYER Shirt CARVEN Shoes DAVID BEAUCIEL
  2. Coat and Shoes KENZO Dress EDITIONS MR Gloves JITROIS
  3. Coat SEAN SUEN Under Shirt and Trousers PIERRE Long Shirt NEHERA Shoes DAVID BEAUCIEL
  4. Coat PHILIPPE PERISSE Jacket ACNE STUDIOS Dress MERCI Shoes ADIEU
  5. Jacket and Trousers DADA DIANE DUCASSE Shirt UNIFORME PARIS Collar SEAN SUEN Shoes KENZO
  6. Coat FACETASM Shirt and Trousers LEO   Shoes DAVID BEAUCIEL
  7. Coat and Trousers HED MANYER Shirt CARVEN Shoes DAVID BEAUCIEL
  8. Coat MISSONI Trousers ACNE STUDIOS   Trousers ADIEU
  9. Coat SEAN SUEN Under Shirt and Trousers PIERRE Long Shirt NEHERA Shoes DAVID BEAUCIEL
  10. Jacket SAINT LAURENT Shirt UNIFORME PARIS Top AINUR TURISBEK Trousers JITROIS
  11. Coat SEAN SUEN Jacket JOSEPH Shirt CHRISTIAN DADA Shoes DAVID BEAUCIEL
  12. Jacket and Trousers PALLAS Top Model’s Own Shoes DAVID BEAUCIEL
Posted in Sin categoría

C. Fitz

Posted on by nr

NR · World
Published · Online

Feature · C. Fitz
Words · Ellie Brown

«sometimes, it’s really not reinventing yourself, it’s just finally coming into what you’ve always been»

As a filmmaker, director and producer, C. Fitz has built up a wealth of experience working within the industry. Starting out working on the commercial side, Fitz worked on the pilot of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy back in 2003 – a gig that introduced her to TV work. Yet, documentaries and short films have always been a passion for Fitz, something that is clearly apparent in the way that ShowGirls, Provincetown, MA (2009) and Jewel’s Catch One (2016) are shot. Whilst ShowGirls, a documentary about the showgirls of Provincetown’s legendary talent show, has become something of a cult hit, Jewel’s Catch One was picked up for release by Ava DuVernay’s distribution company, ARRAY, in 2018. The documentary tells the story of Jewel Thais-Williams, whose nightclub, the Catch One in LA, provided a safe space for LGBTQ, Black and Aids-affected communities over the four decades it was open. During its tenure, the Catch became a haven from the outside world for many, as rare footage of Madonna at the club in Fitz’s film demonstrates. With interviews from Thelma Houston, who heard her hit song Don’t Leave Me This Way for the first time at the Catch, Sharon Stone and Evelyn “Champagne” King, Jewel’s Catch One is a loyal and endearing tribute to the legacy of Thais-Williams. In the time since the documentary’s release, Fitz has been working on other projects; a few days prior to our phone call, Fitz enjoyed her TV scripted directorial debut for an episode of the fourth series of Ava DuVernay’s TV show, Queen Sugar. Speaking to Fitz, it is clear that the opportunity to watch this debut alongside Ava at Array’s Amanda Theatre, LA, is as valuable as the opportunity to tell important stories and create thought-provoking content.

NR MAGAZINE: Something that is striking about Jewel’s Catch One is the need to preserve the memories of the space as the club was being wound up. Did you anticipate this change when you started out filming to documentary?

C. Fitz: When I started making the film, I did not think of Catch One without Jewel as the owner because, at that time, it was all that that building and its stories had known for a little over three and a half decades. I did feel strongly about recording the history so that her story and the stories of our community’s perseverance were not lost. To me, the film was like a huge unwritten textbook that needed to be made.

NR: Would you agree that some aspects of Jewel’s Catch One, in the short time since filming, now feel bittersweet, as the political mood seems to be operating in reverse?

C.F: The political climate today; it seems like we’ve got so far to go to reach equality….one step forward, two back, three back…..I don’t think we ever imagined that we could feel like we are going in reverse. I think there is a lesson there too. Is it reverse, or do we just need to keep on fighting and not get distracted from making change happen? We need to dig in like Jewel, the patrons, and supporters of Catch One did for years to fight for our rights and our community’s rights. Change, real change, takes time and tenacity to believe it will, and can happen. This is one of the takeaways from making this film. During the four decades the Catch One operated there were many times the police tried to tear down communities  – whether it was raiding and targeting the Black and Gay clubs at hours that would hurt their businesses the most, or arresting patrons for false acquisitions. The film sheds some light on what that felt like, and what not giving up looks like…

NR: As a filmmaker, what compels you to tell someone’s story for an audience that may have little connection to, or knowledge of, their circumstances?  

C.F: Jewel’s Catch One has a very important history that I wanted to preserve in a format that would carry its message for a broader audience in, for, and outside of Los Angeles. I felt this film contained so many different histories and lessons for everyone, and everyone should know this story so they can reflect on how we got here as a country, and how we can persevere in the future towards equality.

NR: In Jewel’s Catch One and ShowGirls, there’s a real sense of community forged around the shared enjoyment and appreciation for the spaces and entertainment involved. How do you achieve the warmth in these films that can be felt as a viewer? 

C.F: I feel you need to spend as much time as you can as a filmmaker, recording what you can document, and then reflecting back on the footage in the edit room to tell the best story to your audience. With each film, I spent a lot of time with my subjects – and did whatever I could to learn about them, their environments and basically submerse myself in their worlds. In both instances, I was already a part of some of the ‘world’ but needed to learn more, to find out why they are doing what they are doing.

NR: Do you think you can tell stories if you’re not really part of that world, or do you have to have a connection to it to be able to tell it well?

C.F: I think, as a filmmaker, especially in terms of documentary, you have to have some connection to it. That doesn’t mean you have to be of that community, but you have to have that passion to tell that story. How you tell it is what you have to figure out next, and hopefully you figure out so you can tell it the right way. You have to immerse yourself, talk to people, find out all the different stories you need, and then find the ones that are the best to support the story you want to tell.

NR: Being around Jewel and the spaces she’s involved with, was there a sense of community that struck you as unique to that space? How did people react to Jewel, and respond to what she was doing?

C.F: It was amazing, it really, really was. Whether it be at the Catch or the Village Health Foundation, I got a little sense of what the soup kitchens that were held in the parking lot back in the ‘80s-‘90s would have been like. In the documentary, there are scenes from the 2016 Pride Parade in LA, which Jewel was a part of, and people were thanking her for all the work she’s done. That’s the community she built and supported – and supported when nobody else would. So the sense of community was incredible, and the sense of her being the mother of it all was incredible to watch and really feel.

NR: How did the relationship with Ava [DuVernay] come about? 

C.F: We met her at Urbanworld Film Festival, our New York debut. She was speaking there, and was our top choice of distributor. How we were going to get there, we weren’t sure. It’s a great story – how we actually, physically, met. She was leaving after giving a speech on the last day of the festival, and Jewel and I were behind trying to catch up with her. We weren’t doing so hot, but we were close. And then it was kismet and she was pushed back into me by the crowd  and I helped her back up;(It was so crowded and every one wanted to talk to her) and she turns right around and says, ‘good catch’, which was so funny considering the film’s called Jewel’s Catch One. Anyway, then she was off again, but when I had the chance, I grabbed her and said, ‘Hi! My name is Fitz, I have Jewel’s Catch One which is my documentary and this is Jewel’; she turns to Jewel and she says, ‘you’re Jewel? I’ve heard so much great stuff about you’. She told me that she definitely wanted to review my film, that she’d heard great stuff about it. These things are never instant; it took two years to distribute the film. But, Array is where the film was supposed to be. They take such great care of their filmmakers and are celebratory of their filmmakers, and that was really important to me, And it was such a gift. It was such an interesting meeting the first time, but it was meant to be.

NR: Have there been any major obstacles that you’ve had to confront over the course of your career?

C.F: In general, I think, as a filmmaker, you really hope you’re picking the right projects and the right subjects, especially when it’s a passion project. You know, Jewel’s Catch One took me six years to make, and another two to distribute. That requires perseverance, and you’re also praying that you’re choosing the right things. You also have to be connected to what you’re doing and feel strongly about it – like I felt so strongly in my bones that I wanted to tell Jewel’s story. Again, with Queer Eye, I helped develop and create the pilot, and I wanted for that to be a masterpiece and make a difference in the world. It’s the same with being assigned as a director on Queen Sugar by Ava; I wanted it to be perfect and, I don’t know if that’s an obstacle, but you’re hoping that you’re choosing the right projects.

You’re talking about reinvention, and I think that that’s also about choosing what you’re going to be passionate about and what you’re going to really have that crazy tenacity for, in order to make content in the right way. Like Jewel’s Catch One, that could have been done a million different ways; it certainly could have been done in a shorter amount of time, without the music in it, without Thelma Houston, Evelyn Champagne King, and Sharon Stone… But, all those things matter to that story around Jewel being the central figure around them all, you know? So, yeah, time is always the hardest obstacle. But you know that; that’s part of the job. If you’re going to reinvent yourself, I think you really need to know what your passions are to have the perseverance that you’re going to need to get there. And sometimes, it’s really not reinventing yourself, it’s just finally coming into what you’ve always been and people seeing it finally.

Benjamin Hoffman

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 11 Space & Composition · Spring Summer 2020
Published · Print Page Unnumbered

Feature · Benjamin Hoffman
Words · Ellie Brown

«The best camera in the world is the camera you carry with you»

In many of Benjamin Hoffman’s photographs, groups seem to congregate, often taking part in what seems like leisurely activities, or captured in moments of pause and relaxation. There is usually, if not one, but multiple pairs of eyes meeting the camera’s gaze; an acknowledgement of the French photographer’s presence. For Hoffman, his photographs tell the story of groups of people and communities that may otherwise go unnoticed and unseen, even in a global world. When his series following the gypsy community in France over a period of three and half years was published in the book Testament Manouche in 2016, an outpouring of people contacted Hoffman; they were able to get to know a community that hadn’t registered on their radar. That is Hoffman’s ambition; ‘I just want to tell stories, that’s what matter to me. I want people to learn something, and if it touches someone else, that’s my aim’, he explains. 

With a background in journalism, Hoffman knows how to capture and translate the stories of those he encounters through a photograph – the rich colours in his images reinforce the ‘reality’ that he seeks to leave unchanged as he finds it. But Hoffman is no purist; he often uses his iPhone, and, the series Farewell Cape Town, shot in black and white unlike many of his other projects, was captured using the Hipstamatic App to achieve the desired effect. His images strive to tell important stories about communities in moments of flux, like the fishing village on the verge of disappearance in The Bay, or the last remaining Jews in Ethiopia still waiting, after decades, to reach the Promised Land in Beta Israel, but there is undoubtedly an element of Hoffman himself in his work. Whilst Farewell Cape Town captures the photographer’s experience of moving, and falling in love with, the complex history and beauty of South Africa, his approach of building up relationships with those who his lens falls upon contributes to the sense of simple humanity that transcend the subject matter.  

Your series Farewell Cape Town was shot on an iPhone – how do you frame images through that technology? 

I’ve had many friends come and ask me what camera they should buy, and I always reply that the best camera in the world is the camera you carry with you. And well, nowadays, everyone has smartphones and iPhones. I think these make great cameras because you have them with you all the time. It’s like some kind of a visual notebook. I often carry a proper camera with me as well, but with the iPhone, you’re way more discreet. Most of the time, people don’t realise that I am shooting, and they are way less afraid [of the iPhone] than a real camera. I think people are so used to mobile phones as cameras because they’re comfortable with them; they take pictures of themselves and their friends with them. So when someone with an aim, like me, is taking pictures with a mobile phone, many barriers come down; I think it’s a truly interesting tool. I really like the era we are living in in the 21st century, and for photography it is something really amazing. I think I take maybe 50 to 100 photos a day: I always shoot with my mobile phone and I am totally obsessed with it. Sometimes I spend hours just looking at the photos from the last year or months. My phone is like an extension of my hand. I use this tool (the smartphone) to keep a visual diary, for observations. It kind of replaces a notebook for me.

It’s interesting that people are more willing to be photographed by an iPhone than a camera.

For sure, I think in many, many parts of the world people are used to it, it’s become part of their lives. Everyone now, even in remote places of the world, knows smartphones. They use them, they’re not afraid of them anymore. There’s a real difference.  It is important to me that the smartphones are now part of the daily life of most of the people on the planet. The uses have changed and it is interesting for photographers to dive into this and find our place.

What informs your choice of subject and the people you photograph?  

I was trained as a journalist – I was a TV journalist working in documentaries for a long time, and then I kind of switched to photography. I think as a documentarist so usually I have a subject in mind and a story to tell. The story comes before the pictures; usually, I have the questions but I don’t have the answers, and the answers come in the process of taking the pictures. But the people I shoot, they’re usually connected to the story I want to tell, or the questions I’m asking myself. I don’t shoot people just because of the way they move or act, but because it tells a story. Most of the subjects I choose echo to inner questioning that I have. They are always around the same concerns, which are the identity quest, the will of preserving a story and a past. All the pictures are like small dots connected to each other, and together it tells the story.  

Would you be able to speak about one of your upcoming projects, The Bay?

That’s coming soon, and it’ll be published as a book too. I’ve always been fascinated by the connection between people and the sea. When I was in Cape Town, I met a small community living in a small village called Kalk Bay – it’s made up of a really old fishing community dating back to the 17th – 18th centuries. They still sh in the same way they used to sh 200 years ago, but the community is totally disappearing right now because of things like globalisation, pollution, warming waters. I went into the community and gained their con dence, eventually going out to sea with them. That was something really amazing. What I found really interesting is that a few hundred people in that small community, the small story, weaves into the bigger story – of apartheid, of South Africa’s history.

It’s quite interesting the way you talk about the relationship between people and nature because, in a lot of your images, there are crowds or groups of people who seem to make up the landscape: What informs the composition of your work, and that relationship between people and nature? 

I mean it’s interesting because, apart from commission work, in my personal work I don’t usually shoot many portraits. I usually like to shoot people in groups because I like the interactions between people and, as you said, usually the landscapes are modified by humans. I like the combination because the eye of the viewer can work from the landscape to the people, and so I like to integrate landscape into the picture. I rarely shoot landscapes without people.

As a photographer where do you find your inspiration for the scenes that you capture?  

I think there are hundreds of answers, and I think it’s really classic what I’m going to say but, inspiration is everywhere. Living in 2020 is something amazing because you have access to so many things. And, I have Instagram as well so, of course, I can scroll through a lot of images… So I find my inspiration everywhere, but the ideas of what I want to work on are usually formed by wandering the streets of the place I’m in. Like, with The Bay, I wandered there, met the fishermen and, step by step, I dug into the story. With a lot of the topics I work on, they come from discussions I have with people, or news I find on the radio or in the newspapers; I’m attracted to something and then start digging and exploring, and I find a story to tell.  

You mentioned earlier that you take hundreds of pictures a day; which ones make the cut and why? 

Well, it’s a good question – there are two things. There are the images I take mechanically I would say; photos that I take when there’s a light that I like, when there’s a shape that I like, when I want to take a portrait of someone that interests me. And I barely use those pictures. Sometimes, I post one online because I want to remember the moment, and I use my Instagram as a visual notebook. When I’m working on a project I work the same way, taking a lot of pictures but, when I take a picture I instantly know if I’m going to keep it or not. I don’t know if there’s a word for it in English, but, for me, it’s about what’s going on outside the frame. That’s really important to me: all the emotions, the feelings that happened when I took the pictures. I mean, sometimes a photo isn’t good and I can’t use it because it’s blurry or whatever, but I keep it because it will be connected to the other pictures, and the rest of the story. 

You mention you see yourself as kind of a documentarian, but do you see your photography as art or as journalism? 

That’s a tricky question. I’d like to say both, but I don’t think I’m the right person to decide. I mean, I’ve had a few exhibitions in galleries, sometimes I sell prints, and I know people have hung my prints in their home and I’m really happy and honoured about that. Maybe it’s both. If my work is art in someone’s mind, I’ll accept that but I do not define myself as an artist at all. And I do not see myself as a journalist anymore. I just want to tell stories, and I’m always trying to find a way of telling the truth – but I don’t have that obligation to be objective anymore. Because I see myself as a documentarist, I’m able to have my own point of view. I’m able to tell the stories in the way I want to because I felt a certain way, or because it’s important to me. I think having a point of view and being able to express that makes the difference.

Credits

Photography BENJAMIN HOFFMAN
www.benjaminhoffman.fr
www.instagram.com/benjaminhoffman

Yoshiyuki Yatsuda

Posted on by nr

NR · World
Published · Online

It’s Harder Not to Change Than to Change

Yoshiyuki Yatsuda is a graphic designer and photographer based in Tokyo.  He is focused on something that attracts him such as «a place left from the times» and «an unrealistic landscape of the real world”.

Credits

Photography and words YOSHIYUKI YATSUDA
www.instagram.com/yoshiyukiyatsuda

Nadia Ryder

Posted on by nr

NR · World
Published · Online

Atikah Karim

Team

Photography Nadia Ryder
Fashion and Creative Direction Nima Habibzadeh and Jade Removille
Make-up and Hair Seunghee Yoo
Model Atikah Karim from M+P Models


Designers

  1. Dress Sies Marjan
  2. Shirt Preen by Thornton Bregazzi
  3. Shirt Preen by Thornton Bregazzi   Trousers COS Shoes Lanvin
  4. Bag and Shoes Lanvin Trousers Filippa K
  5. Shirt, Coat and Trousers Boss Shoes Lanvin
  6. Dress and Shoes Red Valentino
  7. Dress Sies Marjan
  8. Shirt Preen by Thornton Bregazzi   Trousers COS Shoes Lanvin
  9. Shirt Preen by Thornton Bregazzi   Trousers COS Shoes Lanvin
  10. Blouse Lanvin
  11. Shirt and Coat Boss
  12. Top Roberts|Wood Underwear Model’s Own
  13. Dress and Shoes Red Valentino

Shaquille-Aaron Keith

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 11 Space & Composition · Spring Summer 2020
Published · Print Page Unnumbered

Feature ·  Shaquille-Aaron Keith
Words · Ellie Brown

«I like emotions, they should always be the centre point of anyone’s art form»

Shaquille Keith credits his mum for being the drive behind his creative output; as a child, she would always make sure a young Shaquille had the tools – pens, pencils, paper – to draw with. But it wasn’t just art that she encouraged Shaquille to pursue; ‘she made me play the trumpet for eight years. These are things that I’m so grateful for, even if I wasn’t at the time.’ Those formative experiences have helped Shaquille get to where he has today, as a painter and a poet; he attributes the rhythm that helps structure his poetry to learning the trumpet. Many people familiar with Shaquille will know him as one fourth of PAQ, the YouTube streetwear show that he started with friends Danny Thomas, Dexter Black and Elias Riadi in 2017 when they were all on the cusp of their twenties. The show, which carved out a space online to passionately discuss men’s fashion, without the pretence and sincerity that often comes with the territory of high-end and streetwear gear, is an unequivocal success. To date, the show, which airs every Thursday, has over 84 million views and not far off 800,000 subscribers. Shaquille, himself, has nearly 275,000 Instagram followers, and shots of him wearing an array of covetable attire – including campaign shoots for some of fashion’s biggest names – are interspersed with his paintings, his poetry and other musings about his creative process. The success of PAQ can be attributed to how personable its hosts are, and the same applies to the kind of inclusive community that congregates on the comment section of Shaquille’s Instagram posts. At this point, Shaquille has reached a level of success that many can only dream of, but it’s clear that this is only the start of where he hopes to eventually get – with dreams to take his painting and poetry to new heights.  ‘Oh the artist, Shaquille Keith, did you see him in that music video with – I don’t know – Drake?’ he muses in our conversation; ‘Did you see the artist Shaquille Keith acted in that new James Bond movie?’ There’s little doubt, however, that, when that day comes, Shaquille won’t share it with his PAQ peers, his online fanbase and, most importantly, his mum. 

To start with, when you’re creating your artwork or poetry, what inspires the direction that you take? 

I would say it’s all about how I’m feeling at the time. In my experience, I find that, if I’m talking, it never stays in the person’s head. I always feel like, when you go to a concert and see the way fans know all the lyrics, they’ll say, ‘I love this song so much because it resonates with me especially when,…’A four minute song resonates better than a 30 minute conversation, so that’s why I like to write poetry. And when it comes to painting, it’s about the idea of identity and how I feel. When you’re trying to explain how you feel to someone, they don’t always get it. But, sometimes, when you do a picture that’s more than just a pretty picture – something with meaning – and you give it a title that reflects how you feel, and the image depicts how you feel, I think that can communicate it a lot better. Whenever I create an image, or put pen to paper, I would like to think it’s always for the purpose of communicating something important. And it’s also for reassurance that, whatever I’m going through, I’m not the only one. Sometimes it can be daunting when you’re going through something and you don’t have anyone to really talk to about it. I’m grateful to be able to put my work out there and have enough people see it and say, ‘actually, I’m going through this too.’

I think it’s quite interesting the way you share your poetry online; posting photos of handwritten poems is quite a personal thing to do. What do you hope people reading your poetry in this way will gain from that experience? 

I can’t lie, my handwriting is absolutely shit, but I don’t mind it because I feel like, that’s what my aesthetic is. Sometimes it looks good, sometimes it looks bad, but I really like to think people would read it if they can make out the words. I like to think people do read it straight from the book because if you do that, it’s more raw – which is why I want to make my own poetry book, with the pages of what I’ve written with a type out on the back so you can read it. I would rather people read from the actual book itself, rather than just reading the caption if I’m posting on social media.

You’ve got quite a big social media platform for people to engage with your work. But, as an artist, what role does sharing your work have for you?  

I don’t rely on my social media to define my work as such, but I guess the role it’s played is that I’m able to get immediate feedback from people. Until you share a poem or a painting, they’re pretty much done for yourself. If I’m writing something, I’m pretty much talking to myself, and then when I share it, I’m putting it out there for people to engage with so I can understand what they take away from it. So I think the one good thing about social media is that it allows me to see what people think about my work, who it’s for and whether it’s for everybody. When I get comments from people saying, ‘you know what, I’m not into poetry, but I like your shit’ – that makes me feel good, that’s kind of inspiring. 

Do you think you would have been able to get to the place you have with your art without other platforms that you have, like the YouTube channel PAQ? 

The thing about PAQ, and not a lot of people know this but, with the very first episode of PAQ – before we even knew what it was going to be – was my idea. So obviously, all four of us got together with the idea of making a show and everyone came up with good ideas for the first episode but in the end we ran with the one I offered and I think, that alone, is testament to what I wanted to do creatively anyway. I feel like, if I didn’t have PAQ, in another reality it would have been something else – or, my art itself would have been the platform. But I’m so grateful for the PAQ platform; it’s something that’s completely different, something that’s not been done before. And I do feel like it’s given me access to things, particularly in the fashion world, that I wouldn’t have had access to before. PAQ has enabled me to find more interesting ways to mix art and fashion, which also contributes to my other stuff.  

Something that strikes me about your work is that the emotion behind it is really important; is communicating that emotion as central to the artwork itself? 

Yeah, 100%. In art, whatever platform it takes: music; movies; literature; whatever – if it doesn’t move you then, in my opinion, it couldn’t get further away from an artwork. Art should essentially be made up of raw emotion. Things that are very bland, where you don’t know much about the artist and what they’re thinking, aren’t for me. There are other artists that I’m not really interested in, like sometimes Jackson Pollock’s work – it doesn’t always interest me. It’s very contemporary, but just not the style of art that I would have in my house because it doesn’t represent how I’m feeling. I like emotions, they should always be the centre point of anyone’s art form.  

You’ve touched on this a little already, but what ambitions do you have for your work in the future? 

When everyone talks about my stuff now, they call me a presenter. Also, I hate people calling me an influencer; I’m like, ‘bro, I’m not an influencer – please don’t call me that.’ I want to do what I love as a lifestyle, but also redefine the respect that painters get. It’s like, I always see hip hop stars, actors, presenters at fashion shows – I’d love to get invited to all these things with my main title as ‘artist’. That’s the kind of respect I want for painters, because I think there’s a lot of talented people, artists, poets working at a level of quality that I appreciate. I’m grateful for the fact I’m able to do PAQ, but grateful for my artwork because that allows me to blend the two, you know? So, that’s pretty much the goal: to redefine the level of respect for artists everywhere – and also for the black community as well. I feel like the black community is constantly left out of the art world. I mean, it’s a very tough world for black people to get into, but I believe that we’re in the right time, in the right generation, to make that change. So, I would love to be one of the people that spearheads that as well. 

I think that’s a really valid point – I think you can definitely see in the fashion world, it’s opened itself up more to include more people, but art is still quite closed off. I guess it’s easier to say, ‘I’m into fashion’ than it is to say ‘I’m a poet.’ 

I feel like it’s going to be a mission, but I’m willing to do it.

It’s going to be fun too; a lot of ups and downs, but it’ll be rewarding in the end. 

Credits

shaquillekeith.com
instagram.com/shakka.d.badmon

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