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Eddie Plein

“The Bronx had been burnt, and you have a collection of youths’ who were trying to find their identity and their voice in, essentially, a city of no hope”

You would think that someone who invented some of the most iconic and instantly recognisable jewellery of the last few decades would be a household name by now, but Eddie Plein is only just getting the recognition he deserves for inventing grills. Born in Suriname, Plein moved to New York with the rest of his family in his early teens. He was an aspiring soccer player, but watching his father hustle to provide for his family in a new country Plein knew he was never destined for a traditional nine to five. It was the eighties and in Brooklyn Plein was surrounded by the budding hip hop scene.

Then, on a visit back to Suriname, he cracks his tooth and the dentist offers him a gold crown. Gold is one of Suriname’s biggest exports, which makes it a cheaper alternative for dentistry. However, Plein didn’t want to commit to a permanent gold crown and that’s when his ‘lightbulb moment’ happened. Back in New York he dropped out of college, put his dreams of being a soccer player on hold and went to dentistry school long enough to learn how to wax up crowns before starting his own business. He pioneered the technique of creating pull out crowns, which we know today as grills. The rest is history, and what a star-studded history that is. Plein, it seems, has made ‘teeth’ for all the big names. NR Magazine was joined in conversation with Lyle Lindgreen co-author of Mouth Full Of Golds which explores Plein’s forgotten story and the rise of grills.

How did the collaboration between you and Plein for Mouth Full of Gold come about? Is there a story behind it? 

So I’ve been obsessed with grills since I was a very small kid. I had Gravediggaz album which had The RZA on the cover with a set of vampire fangs. I must have been like seven or eight when I saw that cover. I was just really enamoured by that image and always wanted a set. Also, I remember seeing images of Goldie in different print magazines during that kind of drum and bass era in the late nineties. So I’ve always really been drawn to the concept of gold teeth and then the opportunity came up to shoot some films with Goldie for an art exhibition he was doing.

So I shot these films and asked him loads of geeky questions and we just hit it off and ended up doing more projects together. We were going to New York to shoot a graffiti film and I wanted to get a set of teeth made while we were there ‘cos there wasn’t really anyone in the UK doing it. Goldie casually mentions that he used to live with the guy whose brother invented grills. So me being quite inquisitive, I was like “No one invented it”, and he was like “Nah, I used to live with the guy in Miami, his brother was like an OG New Yorker.” Goldie is very immediate so he was like “I’m gonna call Lando now in Miami, get Eddie’s number and when we go to New York we’re gonna go meet up with him.”

We go to meet Eddie at the Coliseum which was the original spot where he kicked off his career. We turn up there and we’re waiting and waiting and he doesn’t show up. Then this big fight kicks off on the block outside the Coliseum and we are like there with all this camera kit. So as the fight kinda calms down, the questions start coming in about “What, did you guys film anything”. We were trying to say “No, we’re just waiting for someone”. And then Eddie casually rolls up, pushes through the crowd, to say “what’s up” to Goldie. Then someone from the group is like “Who are you?” and he says “I’m famous Eddie. Gold caps, the Coliseum.”

“Then it’s like a scene from the godfather, and people started coming out of their stalls like welcoming Eddie back to the block.”

So we end up walking away from the Coliseum. He’s shaking hands with people who are like “Eyy, I haven’t seen you for twenty years”, “Eddie, you ‘da man”. Then we end up jumping in this cab and going to Eddie’s house in Brooklyn. We go to the basement of his family home to film and do an interview with him. And it’s the very basement where the whole story started. So Eddie very casually starts telling us about, “You know I made these teeth for Nas, Ludacris, CeeLo”, and the list goes on and on. We’re filming as he tells his story for the first time in a very humble way. And,

“I was just thinking he’s either one of the most amazing fashion icons you’ve never heard of or its straight cap. ‘Cos it was just unbelievable.”

So we shoot a piece for Eddie, and it was originally going to be a five-minute film. However, then I ended up going out to Miami to meet his brother Lando, who was Goldie’s roommate. It was from there that the project just got bigger and bigger and snowballed into this story that spans like thirty-plus years. Eddie and his family just made teeth for everyone, like teenage Jay-Z through to André 3000. Eddie’s reach across the east coast of America is so deep.

Do you think Plein’s work helped shaped both regular peoples creative identity through self-expression, and creative identity in the music/rap scene in Queens, Harlem and Brooklyn, in the ’80s?

A hundred per cent. So at that point in time, the youth of New York was going through times of great austerity. New York had been bankrupt, The Bronx had been burnt, and you have a collection of youths’ who were trying to find their identity and their voice in, essentially, a city of no hope. So from that, graffiti spawned with people wanting to make their mark. It’s the same with hip hop and just jewellery in general, with the concept of jewellery allowing you to pick something personal, to your taste. Through this period of great austerity, you have finance coming to the city in the form of crack cocaine. Then the finance surrounding hip hop that kind of follows the crack era. So through coming of age, and coming out of austerity, people will always use their fashion and their jewellery as a way to express themselves.

The book’s blurb describes Plein as ‘one of the greatest fashion icons you’ve never heard of’. Do you think it’s a common issue for black creatives and pioneers to be overlooked whilst their work is stolen and appropriated? 

Sadly yes, I do. And I think that an element of it is to do with just how fashion is perceived in certain cultures. Obviously, the big fashion houses have the money and resources to preserve their legacy. You have fashion houses that have hundreds of years of history. And it’s all documented and archived and they lean into the history to make themselves prestigious.

With a lot of people like Eddie and Dapper Dan, for example, their work is often overlooked. In that era, there was a lot of pressure on them with what they were trying to do, and how they were trying to build their legacy. Certainly, with Eddie, it became a very competitive game and it got to a point where Eddie got kind of tired of the process. You wanna move on to something else, and you maybe don’t have the resources. The book is a big part of that, it shows his legacy kinda just in a basement, discarded. That’s why we did this project, to preserve it.

“Eddie was definitely a pillar in that world, by allowing people to customise and show their personalities. Eddie’s whole idea of making grills really comes from having quite an outside perspective.”

He wasn’t part of the dope game and he wasn’t necessarily in the hip hop community at that point, as he was really focused on being a soccer player. However, he was in Brooklyn and was watching guys on the block, seeing how the jewellery developed from subtle chains into these massive rope pieces and four-finger rings. So through watching how people are expressing themselves it allowed him to have his lightbulb moment. He cracked his tooth when he went back to Suriname and all these pieces suddenly came together in his head. Like “I’ve seen how fashion is on the block, I’ve seen this advert for dental school when I’m riding the subway”. He’s thinking “You know I could make these caps and sell them to people” and then with that he’s able to facilitate what people want. So, he definitely helped shape people’s creative identity. I think just from people really pushing fashion and wanting to stand out and it being very competitive, from what I’ve heard it was very competitive in fashion in that era, it allowed Eddie to kind of just push what he was doing. Just create whatever he wanted.

The book’s blurb describes Plein as ‘one of the greatest fashion icons you’ve never heard of’. Do you think it’s a common issue for black creatives and pioneers to be overlooked whilst their work is stolen and appropriated?

Sadly yes, I do. And I think that an element of it is to do with just how fashion is perceived in certain cultures. Obviously, the big fashion houses have the money and resources to preserve their legacy. You have fashion houses that have hundreds of years of history. And it’s all documented and archived and they lean into the history to make themselves prestigious.

With a lot of people like Eddie and Dapper Dan, for example, their work is often overlooked. In that era, there was a lot of pressure on them with what they were trying to do, and how they were trying to build their legacy. Certainly, with Eddie, it became a very competitive game and it got to a point where Eddie got kind of tired of the process. You wanna move on to something else, and you maybe don’t have the resources. The book is a big part of that, it shows his legacy kinda just in a basement, discarded. That’s why we did this project, to preserve it.

And do you think that books like Mouth Full of Gold will help solidify those legacies? 

Yeah after that first encounter with Eddie, this is maybe six or seven years ago, I went away and started looking into Eddie but there was nothing online about him, it was completely tumbleweeds on Google. As we have developed the project, more stuff is starting to go online about him. I feel like what happened with Eddie is he sort of disappeared into the shadows just as the wave of the internet really broke. Because he didn’t transport his legacy online, it can feel like it doesn’t exist.

So I feel what the book does is solidifies that history, with all the evidence and the archival images, in a physical place. Obviously, there are things going online as well, but if twenty years down the line of certain sections of the internet don’t exist anymore or we move onto a new form of communicating, at least it’s there documented in print. Making sure it’s told in a really heavily researched format, so the next generation that will uncover the culture will have that information.

What’s your opinion on the issue of cultural appropriation with many white celebrities wearing grills, such as the Kardashians, Harry Styles and Madonna to name a few? 

So over the last decade, grills have transcended to high fashion. They are now viewed as an accessory, in the same way that you might look at a prestige wristwatch, but their placement is just in the mouth. What they represent is so synonymous with that culture and history that you shouldn’t be able to view them on a celebrity and not be able to identify immediately where that style originates from. There’s always gonna be that thing where people look at grills and immediately identify them with hip hop.

I feel like they’ve gone to a high fashion space where people are just using them to accessorise. Now, whether a celebrity really understands the culture is another question. I personally look at their motivations of why they wear them, the designs they pick and the longevity of wearing them to kinda understand why they are rocking grills. I do think a lot of celebrities are disingenuous with it. I think they use grills as a press moment for a music video or a carpet walk. As soon as you see a set that they are wearing, you never see it again. So,

“I think a lot of the motivations behind celebrities wearing them, comes from quite a disposable place.”

I think that mainstream attraction has its positives for the jewellers. When someone sees a set of grills on a celebrity like Kim Kardashian, it’s gonna lead to interest for jewellers and they need to have an economy that stimulates their business. So it’s a positive in the sense that it allows jewellers to have an audience which helps them involve the art form. But their bread and butter clientele doesn’t come from that space, and it comes from a more authentic place. It will always exist like in culture in a very deep rooted place as it has so much history behind it. It often peaks in the mainstream and then it kind of rides a wave and disappears, but it has always had its roots in black culture in a very authentic way.

With many things that are culturally appropriated, it can be almost impossible to pin down a sole original creator, but obviously, grills are Plein’s invention, so I’d be interested to know what his opinion was on people, who aren’t black or from that culture, wearing grills is?

I mean I wouldn’t want to answer on Eddie’s behalf, but we’ve had conversations about it. From a business point of view if you came down to Eddie’s shop and the money was alright he’d make the teeth for you. Every shop Eddie’s had he always created a vibe that was very much linked to his personality. You’d go in there and he’s got crazy pictures of soccer players on the walls, or traditional Surinamese woodwork, or pictures of grills he’s taken and just like a vibe. The communities Eddie based his shops in, that would stimulate his business, have always been predominantly black communities. So at those points in time when Eddie was making grills, it was intrinsically linked to hip hop and black culture. But I think in terms of Eddie’s clientele he will make teeth for anyone. Eddie is more interested, and we have had a few conversations about this, in what you want. There are certain things that he won’t design, like if he’s just not feeling the vibe or the motivations that are there. I remember once he was telling me a story about André 3000 when he wanted a copper set of teeth. Eddie was quite against making these teeth for André 3000. He didn’t want him out there wearing a copper set that he made which looked cheap.

What was the most interesting thing you discovered while working on Mouth Full Of Gold with Plein? 

Two things. First was that Eddie made some teeth for Allan Iverson at the height of his basketball career. He came to the store in Atlanta to get a set of teeth made. So that in itself was interesting. But then Eddie alluded to the fact that his wife used to play bingo with Iverson’s mum when they left New York and moved to Virginia. Also that Eddie’s daughters went to the same high school as Iverson. So Eddie was telling this anecdote of how Iverson is like a god at this point and he comes to the store and Eddie’s like “Oh yeah my wife used to do bingo with your mum and my kids went to your high school” and suddenly everyone knew all the same people and everyone’s business. I’ve never seen any pics of Iverson wearing his grills, he had rose gold grills before anyone was really into rose gold so that was quite interesting.

The second thing was the most interesting, Eddie told me that the majority of the images in the Nelly – Grillz music video with Paul Wall, Ali and Gipp are all from Eddie’s shop in Atlanta. This was like at the end of his big run in Atlanta before it kind of changed hands to a Houston take over. So Eddie told me they’d come and asked to use all the images from his store. It was a song about grills but Eddie never cameoed and wasn’t in the video. I’ve been through it frame by frame and there’s a picture, which is in the book, of Eddie and Ludacris that you can see just tucked away in the corner. I thought that was quite interesting and also quite sad to uncover that.

Plein describes Atlanta as a resurgence of New York but with a different vibe. Did that difference have any influence on his work at the time?

Yeah in New York he would make a lot of single sets where he would very often put two or three teeth together. People might have eight caps at one time but very often it was like two’s and three’s. So really,

“Flavour Flav was one of the first customers he had where it was like six teeth put together. It was becoming less caps and more grills in New York.”

But when Eddie goes to Atlanta he starts making more grills with six teeth and eight teeth put together. So it ushers in this era in his creative career where it’s about making bigger put together pieces. This allows him to start experimenting with diamonds. Before customers might say “One tooth, cover it in diamonds. The next tooth I want you to put a Benz symbol.”  However then you have Goodie Mob come in, with CeeLo and Big Gipp in particular, and they really pushed him to try different things. So you have CeeLo asking Eddie to make him six teeth put together that are all like classic New York nugget-style, or Big Gipp pushing Eddie to make platinum grills which they hadn’t really done before and wasn’t on his radar.

It was different from city to city. Eddie tried to strategically place his brothers in different states so that they could replicate the success they were having in New York. So when his brother Lando goes to Miami, where he meets Goldie, he’s going into a culture where everyone just has permanent gold teeth. They would go to the dentist and get their teeth filed down and have just permanent crowns in. It was culturally evolved from street culture, so a lot of pimps and hustlers would have one or two permanent crowns. Also, the dope boys were getting their shot at the top so they were trying to evolve it and be like “Nah I’ve got like eight on the top and eight on the bottom”.

Lando went into that culture and was like “I’m trying to make these pull out teeth”, and everyone was just laughing at him thinking “Why do you want your teeth to come out if you’re really street? You should commit to them so they are in there permanently.” So Lando has to figure out how to evolve in Miami and he starts making grills that could go over permanent teeth, grills over grills.

Plein suffered from people copying and undercutting his work, do you think his so-called downfall was inevitable or could it have been prevented to some extent? 

Yeah, I’ve spoken to Eddie quite a lot about this, so in New York, his downfall was that in the booth in the Coliseum he housed the whole process in that booth. It essentially put the whole production on display so you could see how it was done. The issue with that was other jewellers could come by and see how he did the whole process. Then you are faced with all the copycat jewellers who understand how to do the process but without necessarily having spent the same amount of time as Eddie sitting in the basement like learning how to wax up perfect teeth. So also he was undercut by jewellers who make an inferior product and Eddie prided himself on the quality of his teeth. So those mistakes in New York he definitely took them away with him and in Atlanta, the idea is that he kind of had a shop front where people could come and kick it. Play pool, order their teeth and hang out drinking. It became like a social club and then a building to the right housed the lab, so you have a team there that’s away from the openness of the shop.

“Really the way to not fall off is to just keep evolving and I think Eddie as he moves into the millennium he’s on top of the world and he’s king of the game.”

He had this element of being complacent and thinking “you know what like fuck the internet I’m not into the internet like I don’t need to do that people can come and find me cos I’m the best”. But then other people with a bigger platform, like Paul Wall, come along and the phone starts ringing less. I think for Eddie, and he talks about it in the book as well, there’s kinda like a denial of falling off. He just got outsmarted and out-hustled by someone who came in and had that massive platform. You gotta have that fire to keep evolving but, around the sort of mid 2000s, Eddie’s already twenty years in the game. That’s a long time to keep reinventing yourself. After the Atlanta store closed Eddie’s dad in New York got sick so Eddie went back to care for him for the best part of a decade. He kinda took himself out of the game to reevaluate what was important for him, you know his dad being his idol, so he wanted to go home and play his part there.

Do you think that the use of gold grills as a form of self-expression amongst African American and Latin American communities can be seen as a form of activism against colonisation which stole natural resources such as gold from Africa and Latin America? 

Yes I do. I think gold crowns themselves date back to like to the late 1700s. As I researched the book I found that diaspora communities will often take what is essentially a crude form of dentistry, not getting a porcelain crown but a gold one because it’s often cheaper. They will take it and make it an investment piece for a rainy day. There’s a school of thought of protecting the wealth by putting it into your teeth.

I made a film about this true story in Lando’s shop where some guys in Miami had been on a bit of a crime spree. They knew that they were going to go away for a long time so they went to Lando and got all these permanent golds put in. The police tried to understand what was the point of it when they were about to get banged up and go away for time. What Lando brought up was “Yeah you’re gonna go away for a long time, but you are gonna sit in a cell knowing that you have all this gold and diamonds in your mouth and when you come out you’ll have enough capital to get started again.”

Also, people have taken this often cheaper form of dentistry and revitalised it in a way where it’s flamboyant. Pre grills you see it in West Indian communities, people still have one or two teeth here but it still looks fly and it still looks affluent. It’s definitely a thing where people do take it and use it in a way that’s a reaction to recourses that have been taken.

“Through colonisation people are taking those resources and when recourses are taken away from you in abundance, even if it’s like a small way of having them and being able to show them off it’s still a very defiant act.”

Do you think that grills will retain their popularity going forward with music artists such as A$AP Rocky and Rhianna continuing to keep them in the spotlight? What are some ways you think they might evolve in the future? 

I think in terms of its popularity it’s very cyclical. New generations take an interest and that really pushes jewellers to innovate the teeth to crazy levels. We are seeing it now with a lot of 3D printing, enamel painting, certain stones which are being set like opals which you haven’t really seen before. At the moment one thing that’s happening is this wave of perfect veneer teeth that’s becoming very popular.  You go get your teeth filled down like shark teeth and you get the veneers put over them like Tipp-ex white teeth.

But then Rocky has got some amazing tiny diamonds that are actually drilled into his teeth in the enamel and I think that’s something that could take off. I think Drake has a nice diamond in the front of his perfect teeth. Gucci Mane had all his veneers done and then he went and got amazing single diamonds put into those veneers. It could be that it becomes an amalgamation of the two cultures of perfect veneers and a sort of variation of grills.

I think they always will continue away from the mainstream. Gold teeth are consistently present in cultures and communities away from the hype. Miami and New Orleans have such a deep history of permanent golds such an ingrained part of their culture I don’t think it’s gonna leave. I think that shows where you stand with the culture. Like are you gonna continue to wear your grills when it cools off? Or are they gonna go in the drawer?

Ed Templeton

“Every time I forget my camera, I have regretted it. Life isn’t worth living if I can’t take a photo of it.”

A respected cult figure in skateboarding culture, Ed Templeton’s photography takes inspiration from the subculture he is a part of and its suburban roots. Born in Orange County, a sprawling suburb of Los Angeles, the world champion professional skateboarder and founder of the iconic skate company Toy Machine has exhibited his work across Los Angeles, San Francisco, Paris, Belgium, Vienna, the UK and more. His work is also housed in LACMA’s permanent collection, and he has published over 20 books of his work.

Templeton started his professional skating career in the early 90s, and soon ventured into the world of photography, documenting his friends, surroundings, and the antics that followed the subculture. In the mid to late 90s, Templeton found himself on the frontline of a cutting-edge mixture of personal expression and social documentary. Developing this into a vast and distinct body of work, Templeton has become a household name in the world of contemporary street photography, with his most notable work ‘Wires Crossed’ being part memoir, part documentation of the DIY, punk-infused subculture of skateboarding as it blossomed between the 90s and early noughties.

Giving us an insider’s look at a subculture in the making and confirming his capabilities as a visual artist, Templeton’s work has achieved a signature style that has emerged from the skateboarding world he helped establish. Templeton’s approach to street photography and documenting youth culture recalls the iconic work of Larry Clark, Jim Goldberg, and Nan Goldin, and is fuelled by the raw energy of the skate scene and all of its grit and glory.

NR Magazine speaks with Templeton about his life’s work, his thoughts on life on the West Coast and his identity as an artist.

 

What initially attracted you to working with photography?

In my former life as a professional skateboarder, I was surrounded by photographers whose job it was to take photos of me skating and I was always interested in their cameras, how they worked and was generally immersed in the world of film and photography through them. But it wasn’t until I was exposed to photobooks by Nan Goldin, Larry Clark and Mary Ellen Mark that I really started to see photography in a different way.

I had always had a camera for taking tourist snaps, but after seeing those books I mentioned, and work from people like Henri Cartier-Bresson and Garry Winogrand, I realised the power of a good documentary photograph. And like any 22-year-old boy, I thought maybe I could do it too. I was traveling the world with some hard-living folks acting like rock stars on the road and I had that personal ‘a-ha moment’ where I decided to document what it was like to be a pro skateboarder from my perch on the inside.

I’ve tried my luck at skateboarding in the past, but for me, I think starting as an adult I’d already developed this strong sense of fear that I struggled to overcome on the board. Did you ever feel this kind of apprehension when starting your artistic career or was it something that just came naturally to you?

A friend once asked me where I get the gall to put artwork out into the world. I think he meant it as a criticism, as in, ‘why do you think what you do is up to the standards of true art and so confidently offer it?’ I think he considered my artwork naive. I thought about it and was aware that compared to many of the artists I admired, my work was naive. I think my answer to him was that one needs to have a certain amount of delusion built into them to get them over that self-critical hump. When you put what you do out onto the chopping block, there’s always someone ready to chop. But there is also always someone who may connect with what you have done and appreciate it, so you do it for those people.

I think years later when you look back on your own work, you should be embarrassed a bit, because hopefully you have evolved and improved. So yes, I have felt apprehensive about my work, but I’ve tried to operate in the spirit of putting one leg in front of the other and to keep moving in a positive, evolutionary direction.

Skateboarding and Toy Machine has been such a huge part of your life and your identity. With your creative pursuits – photography in particular – have you ever felt the need to establish a specific style or aesthetic? Obviously when you first started you were documenting the subculture you were part of. Was that always your aim?

My aim at the beginning was to document skateboarders, but once I had a camera on my shoulder 24-7, that narrow scope quickly widened and whatever was in front of me became fair game to be photographed. My aim regarding style was always Henri Cartier-Bresson, and in that way the aesthetic I was after has always been very pared down – no frills.

Cartier-Bresson was the quintessential documentary photographer known for being a master of composition and shooting ‘The Decisive Moment.’ I still prefer black and white photos over colour. I shoot with a Leica M6 and a 50mm lens with no filters or adornments, not unlike Cartier-Bresson. When shooting, I try to blend into the crowd and quietly shoot like a fly on the wall. Just the basics: get close, make a quick composition, shoot, then keep walking.

I feel like I wasn’t consciously trying to adopt a specific style, because by default there was no way my work could mimic Cartier-Bresson, Larry Clark or Robert Frank because I was living in a different time period with totally different subjects and surroundings. I did decide to generally shoot in black and white, and to keep it very simple. Starting in 1994 when I started shooting skateboard culture, I was simultaneously shooting many different long-term projects that have continued until this day.

Another aesthetic thread in my work is the idea of writing and painting on the prints. That is a departure from the Cartier-Bresson ethos, he would have frowned on the idea of drawing attention away from the photo itself. But for me, the print itself is an object to be used in any way possible to convey the story you want to tell, even if that means some contextual text or some decoration will elevate it to another level. Artists like Peter Beard, Jim Goldberg, later Robert Frank, David Hockney and Allen Ginsberg all used the photographic print as a starting point to make new types of artwork.

Your documentary project ‘Wires Crossed’ is essentially your life’s work, and you’ve got plans to publish and exhibit it at some point. How do you feel when reflecting on this long-term venture?

It’s a daunting task trying to edit down the five thousand photographs that I have collected over the last 27 years, scattered over all types of formats into a relatively concise, readable, cohesive story. I have had to break it down into themes like ‘Fame in a Microcosm’, ‘Self-Medication’, ‘Lust’, ‘Injuries’, etc. In this way I was able to craft chapters that tell the stories I’m trying to convey photographically on those topics. I have also dredged my journals from those periods so some contemporaneous stories and texts scanned directly from the pages will be included along with the photos.

What have been your favourite places to photograph?

No place jumped into my mind immediately. It’s really fun shooting in Japan. It’s a camera culture so people don’t seem weirded out when you are taking photos there. Any place where I can just walk and shoot is my favourite – even my own hometown.

Your project ‘Memory Foam’ reflects on life in Huntington Beach, California. What stands out to you most about beach culture and suburban life on the West Coast?

Suburbia is a fucked-up place, and Huntington Beach is hyper-fucked. It was through world travel that I wanted to look at where I lived in the same way I see a new country. Each time I would come back from a month abroad, I would marvel at the size of Los Angeles and its surrounding exurbs. The freeways are so wide, there’s a seemingly never-ending sprawl. The things we take for granted because we grew up here are things that a first-time visitor here might marvel at, like I do when I see a cool sign or experience a new custom in Asia or Europe.

Orange County, where Huntington Beach is located, was built on the ‘White Flight’ leaving Los Angeles in the late 50s, and those roots are evident, as this county is a conservative stronghold in a mostly liberal state (there’s plenty of white supremacists and their sympathizers here). Over the last four years as American society as a whole has become more antagonistic and belligerent, my hometown has become a surreal ‘idiocracy’ on one hand, and then on the other it’s a beautiful paradise that many people around the world would saw off their right arm if it meant they could live here.

Let me give you an example. As the first wave of the Covid-19 pandemic raged, we had the murder of George Floyd and the ensuing racial justice protests in cities all over the world. A BLM protest planned for Huntington Beach spurned a ‘Defend Huntington Beach’ counter-protest in response organised by Tito Ortiz, a well-known retired MMA fighter. The popularity of his ‘Defend Huntington Beach’ movement launched him into a run for city council, where he overwhelmingly won a seat and was named mayor pro-tem. Of course, he is anti-vaccine, thinks Covid is a ‘plandemic’, and refused to wear a mask at the council meetings. We basically had our own mini-Trump here inside Huntington Beach city government like a bull in a china shop.

Naturally, he resigned months later after realising running a city is actual work, and he couldn’t take the constant heat his antics provoked. Each weekend at our pier there’s a mini rally by adherents of some disgruntled group, usually a combination of Pro-Trump/Anti-Covid/Anti-Vax/Extremists that yell at people as they walk by on their way to the beach. Maybe I’m just overly sensitive to all of this, but that is what I want to document. The dichotomy of this place is essentially a microcosm of the whole United States. I think my series started off as a sincere and earnest documentation of my local environment and has ended up being a critical look at human nature.

Whenever I end up publishing this work, I think it will reflect a love/hate relationship with my hometown.

With the theme of this issue being Identity, I’d love to know how you see yourself as the person behind the lens.

I see myself differently at any given moment. Sometimes I see my physical reflection in a window and I’m horrified, revealing that perhaps my mind’s eye sees a younger version of myself and I’m shocked at the creature I inhabit currently. It probably effects how I approach shooting photos in the streets because I am hyper aware of what I might look like to an outsider as I am walking around with a camera.

“One moment I am shooting in a spirit of celebrating human nature, another I have turned cynical and critical.”

The identity I imagine myself having is certainly different than the identity I actually have in this space. But to answer the question more directly, when I’m behind the lens I try to see myself as an inquisitive onlooker. Not a passive onlooker, but a participant in society – a member who happens to be using a camera, which isn’t so strange anymore since we all have them in our pockets now.

If you could select a handful of works that capture the essence of your creative vision, what would they be?

Photographically, something like my last major book ‘Tangentially Parenthetical’ would probably the closest thing to the essence of what I’m trying to do currently. Of course, that essence is evolving, and I’m sure the forthcoming ‘Wires Crossed’ book will be the closest I can get to my creative vision, since it’s the body of work that got me into photography in the first place.

A lot of your work is in black and white. What attracts you to working with this aesthetic?

I think colour is amazing, but for me, more often than not when I shoot in colour, I wish the photos I got would have been in black and white. Once in a while, the colour pops and makes the photo even better, but often the colour comes off garish or gaudy. I prefer to strip everything down to the essentials. Maybe I have a strong infection of nostalgia in me. There is a timelessness to black and white that I like.

There’s also a practical reason – in my home darkroom I am not set up for colour. I tried once but it was a big hassle, and the chemicals are much more toxic. So, with black and white I can do everything from home which is nice.

Your work also features more intimate pictures of your wife, Deanna. Does your visual approach change at all when working with someone closer to you?

I don’t think it does. I have a camera on me when I’m out, and there’s always one laying around when I’m at home. So just like if I were out in public and something visually interesting happens and makes me want to shoot it, the same applies when I’m at home.

If something happens that is out of the ordinary, let’s say Deanna is vacuuming the house nude for some reason, I’ll shoot that because it might be funny or interesting to me, but it also might translate into a photograph that speaks to the domestic experience and will resonate with others who have a similar shared experience.

I suppose my approach at home is more sensitive, although if this body of work ever comes out, it will be a fairly unflinching look at married life. The work is called ‘Suburban Domestic Monogamy’.

Would you say that being transgressive and incorporating a DIY aesthetic into your work are important aspects of your identity?

I have this one identity as a pro skateboarder of 22 years, and another as an artist, and they overlap to some degree. Through my skateboard company Toy Machine’s graphics and advertisements, I have always tried to poke holes in the whole idea of selling and marketing something you love and care about, it seems so crass, so I made it into a joke about brainwashing our loyal pawns into doing our bidding, using language that Nike or Amazon only wishes they could use!

We have a ‘Consumer Control Centre’ with its own logo, and it’s all about forcing consumers into blindly buying only our products. Our fans are in on the joke. We don’t take ourselves too seriously.

“It’s just skateboarding – but Skateboarding is our life! I’d like to think the same applies to the art world.”

It’s just art, but art is our life! It’s all for fun and enjoyment but it’s also our life blood and the thing that keeps us going, so I think there’s a built-in spirit of transgression in what I do that stems from skateboard culture, and of course a do-it-yourself attitude is also endemic.

On the spectrum of transgression, I feel like I’m pretty mild. I wouldn’t say that anything I do ‘breaks the rules’ in some heroic way, but I think it does break down the façade between the artist and audience or company and the customer. We are all part of the same community. There’s no hierarchy – or at least there shouldn’t be.

Have you ever thought about dabbling in other creative fields?

I have been recruited as a commercial film director, but I never pursued it seriously as of yet. I dabble in commercial photography here and there. I would like to get into proper filmmaking, and I might do OK in marketing since I do that already on a small scale for Toy Machine.

Are there any particular works that resonated with you when you first got into photography?

I mentioned Goldin and Clark, but once I got into photobooks there was a cavalcade of falling in love with so many photographers’ work! Anders Petersen, Tom Wood, Susan Meiselas, Jane Evelyn Atwood, Graciela Inturbide, Bruce Davidson, Robert Frank, Peter Beard, Jim Goldberg, Bill Burke, Burk Uzzle, Josef Koudelka – there’s too many.

More specifically I’d say that ‘Raised By Wolves’ by Jim Goldberg, ‘Brooklyn Gang’ by Bruce Davidson, ‘Falkland Road’ by Mary Ellen Mark, ‘At Twelve’ by Sally Mann, ‘Nicaragua’ and ‘Carnival Strippers’ by Susan Meiselas, ‘Streetwise’ by Mary Ellen Mark, and of course ‘The Ballad of Sexual Dependency’ by Nan Goldin, and ‘Teenage Lust’ by Larry Clark were some books that really hit home for me. Those are ones off the top of my head.

What things have inspired you recently?

I discovered Tom Wood – see ‘All Zones Off Peak’ and ‘Bus Odyssey’. All work by Mark Steinmetz, Alec Soth and Gregory Halpern. More recently I have discovered older work but new to me from John Humble, Sage Sohier, and Larry Fink. There are also some young photographers making great work that are really cool; Daniel Arnold in New York, William Galindo in Los Angeles, Jake Ricker and Austin Leong in San Francisco, Billy ‘Captain Soncho’ Williams in Orange County. Deadbeat Club Press is publishing a lot of great photographers’ first books. It’s not new, but I’m also really getting into the German New Objectivity movement, especially Otto Dix. There’s a painter in Los Angeles you should check out named Kevin Christy.

What’s your usual approach when taking a photograph?

I prefer to go completely unnoticed. Usually, I am just walking by at full speed and shooting as I go. Sometimes it’s a direct approach where I walk up and start shooting and start a conversation. Sometimes I ask for a portrait, but mostly I just shoot and keep walking, and most of the time I am not seen.

Have there been moments when you’ve regretted not bringing a camera with you?

Every time I forget my camera, I have regretted it. Life isn’t worth living if I can’t take a photo of it. I say that jokingly but that is really how I feel. Even if I forget the camera, I still have my iPhone and can shoot photos, but only for Instagram. I don’t use digital photos in books or shows, although there have been a few exceptions. I did a very tiny book with a French publisher of some of my digital photos from before I had an iPhone as a special project, and a few years back I did an exhibition at Pilgrim Surf Shop in Japan of my #DailyHBpierPhoto shots from Instagram.

Have there been any difficult moments you’ve had to overcome when taking certain photographs?

I have had some strange moments, but nothing too crazy. I shot some teenagers fighting in Huntington Beach once, and in theory as the adult present, I should have broken it up, but it was so damn stupid how it started and what it was about that I figured they deserved to fight each other.

Another time in Barcelona I shot the police roughing up a suspect as they were trying to arrest him. They banged his head on the side of the police car. One of the cops saw me and made me give him my film. I wasn’t in the mood to make a stink about it, so I just handed it over. Luckily, I had just put a new roll in so I didn’t lose anything special.

Do you have any daily rituals or habits that help you stay creative?

I get up each day and procrastinate for way too long, then check my emails, and whatever is the most pressing or has the most looming deadline is what gets worked on. It may be graphics for Toy Machine, a painting, drawing, or organizing the photo archive. It’s in constant need to improvement, even when I’m not shooting as much. Covid has slowed down my photo taking, but not my archiving and editing.

I need to adopt a daily ritual; I think that would be very helpful for me. Maybe I could spend 30 minutes making a drawing every day? But think of the 365 drawings you’d have if you stuck with it.

Looking back on your career, both as a creative and a skateboarder, would you take the opportunity to do anything differently?

In hindsight I would have started skating and making art earlier. If I could go back in time and find a young Ed, I’d tell him, among many other things, to start making art now, start skating now, and keep a journal. I keep a spotty one, mostly for travels, but it’s not philosophical, it’s just the bare facts of each day. The people who know where they want to go tend to get there over time, so an early start helps.

I don’t have a lot of major regrets that I’d want to change. It would just be small things, dead ends that I may have avoided. But having said that, those dead ends, and mistakes are what forms you into the person you are. Can you imagine going through life never making a mistake? I wonder if anyone has. Mistakes are learning experiences.

What can we expect from you in the future?

In the near future I have a book of my drawings coming out in December published by Nazraeli Press. In January 2022 I will have a solo show of my paintings tentatively titled ‘The Spring Cycle’ at Roberts Projects in Los Angeles, and I’ll take part in a group show at Tim Van Laere gallery in Belgium.

Later in 2022 the ‘Wires Crossed’ book will come out, published by Aperture in the fall. The ‘Wires Crossed’ exhibition will start in the Netherlands in 2023 at the Bonnefanten Museum in Maastricht. We have plans to travel the exhibition both in Europe and in the USA. After that, it’s safe to expect some more photobooks!

Discover Ed Templeton’s work here ed-templeton.com

Andrzej Steinbach

“the creation of new perspectives can be found in the old, the ordinary and the familiar”

Born in Czarnków, Poland and currently residing in Berlin, photographer Andrzej Steinbach plays with concepts of androgyny and ambiguity in his work. Viewing his works serially, questions about the socio-political role of style, as well as the concepts of identity, personhood, and their representation through photography can be raised. Experimenting with the traditional methodology of portraiture, Steinbach examines how cultural habits and impressions are transposed and communicated through different postures, movements, and clothing.

Also intrigued by the political and revolutionary potential in commonplace objects, Steinbach observes that through appreciating the formal aspects of everyday items and images, artistic practice can be transformed and elevated.

Steinbach often creates a unique sense of disorientation with his figurative work, as his models resist strict interpretations and serve to remind us of the transience and inconsistent nature of relationships and the human condition. His work boldly asks us to confront our performative selves, and to consider how we connect to ourselves and those around us.

Operating within the realm of ambiguity and androgyny, Steinbach’s aesthetic codes are seemingly absent of empathy, and impose a distinctly cold aura onto his subjects. His vision is distanced yet personal, and his work often appears with multiple refusal to provide accompanying interpretations.

At a moment when pre-existing ideas about identity and representation are being redefined, Steinbach’s work continues the dialogue and is a notable reflection on our own ideas of selfhood and our participation in the communities and contexts of which we are a part.

NR Magazine speaks with the photographer to learn more about his own attitude towards his work and what it means to reimagine portraiture.

Born in Poland, you’re now living in Germany and have exhibited your work in cities across the globe. Do you feel a strong connection to any place in particular? Has your background influenced your work at all?

The short answer would be that the sum of places, people and experiences have influenced me – and that applies to all the people I’ve met. My time as a teenager in Chemnitz, East Germany was particularly influential to me, as it was when I first came into contact with sub- and DIY-culture. Coming from a working-class background, the punk and anti-fascist scene in Chemnitz gave me a chance to enjoy these subcultures together with others. At first, I was interested in music and political work, and later I had some small roles as an extra at the opera house in Chemnitz and then I began to work with photography and started documenting my surroundings and social events.

Your series ‘Figure I, Figure II’ explores how the appearance of androgyny has the potential to impact viewers in different ways, as the figures fluctuate between presenting as typically more masculine and feminine. Could you talk a bit more about the aim for this series? There seems to be a focus on exploring the residual identities of the subjects.

When I started working on ‘Figure I, Figure II’ in 2011, I wanted to develop a series that depicted a figure that played with pose, clothing, and habitus so as not to allow a definite image. It took me two years to find a suitable model and a method to create this. An important influence at that time was the book ‘Let’s Take Back Our Space: ‘Female’ and ‘Male’ Body Language as a Result of Patriarchal Structures’, from 1977 by Marianne Wex. I used her binary poses of ‘male’ and ‘female’ body language and turned them into new ‘prototypical’ figures. The prototypical should only have the function to break the idea of the binary and to encourage the viewer to look closer.

Androgyny is being brought to the forefront of a lot of art and fashion recently – we’re seeing more gender-neutral clothing lines and other representations. Has this focus on androgyny and ambiguity always been an interest of yours?

Androgyny can be a welcome tool for some moments to help attack the concept of ‘normal’, but I believe that this also has its limits. My dream is to live in a world where all forms exist without competition and can develop freely. With this, there is no need for an image alternative to the normative, and the idea of what is ‘normal’ itself must be attacked. Consequently, I understand ambiguity not as something confusing, but as a potential that brings us into a resonance with the unknown. In the interplay of the unknown and the familiar lie the productive practices of ‘togetherness’.

Your work also reflects on questions about alternative forms of style and cultural identity, particularly with the group of five images from ‘Figure I, Figure II’ that depict a Black woman fashioning a T-shirt, step-by-step, into a niqab. What was the inspiration behind this piece?

The work ‘Figure I, Figure II’ consists of two parts: the first consists of 120 images and depicts a person posing in front of the camera – each pose suggests a new role. The second part consists of 64 images and depicts a second person who gradually disguises herself in several sequences with different textiles. She uses ski masks, scarves and the clothes she wore before in the previous sequences to cover her face. As viewers, we see this action in a space closed off from the outside world. The office chair and blinds hint that the room is in some kind of institution or agency. I was interested in showing what it looks like when we gradually hide our face, without depicting the context of this action. In my photographs it’s hard to tell if the reason for covering the face is religious, political, or fashionable. For me, this is where the charm lies – in studying these images. Our own questions and associations with the images are channelled into the work.

These pictures, along with your other work like ‘Ordinary Stones’ and your still lifes seem to explore the political and revolutionary potential in everyday items. Has this always been something you’ve aimed to interrogate with your photography?

This is a wonderful question, as it points to what isn’t always seen in the works themselves. With ‘Ordinary Stones’ I present a series of stones lying on various glass plates and mirrors, and only by adding some recognisable political imagery, do the objects become projectiles. I like it when, in relation to images, we become aware that the context redefines our interpretation. If we think in a productive way, then the creation of new perspectives can be found in the old, the ordinary and the familiar. You could argue that my socio-political attitude isn’t revolutionary, but rather committed to the ideas of reform.

Your series ‘Gesellschaft beginnt mit drei (Society Begins with Three)’ was titled after an essay by the German sociologist Ulrich Bröckling – could you talk a bit more about this inspiration?

In his short essay, Bröckling beautifully describes the interplay and relationship between a triad of individuals or political groups. The triad functions as the starting point of a model of society in which clear power structures can be disrupted. Opposing relationships can be undermined by the third party and renegotiated again and again. When I was thinking about my next piece after ‘Figure I, Figure II’, it quickly became apparent that I wanted to make a series that depicted several people in relation to each other. In doing so, I focussed on the concept of the group and family pictures. Usually, the people who are posing stand to face the camera, and show not only themselves, but also their position in relation to the others in the picture. I wanted to create a group picture from three figures in which each person poses at least once in a separate position. I then included three different uniforms – construction worker clothes, a suit, and casual clothes. Each uniform was then worn by each person at least once.

This series subverts the traditional format of a group portrait by having the models cropped partially out of frame and having them switch clothing and positions. What attracted you to exploring these inconsistencies of relationships and resisting homogeneity?

I ended up developing a group portrait of 35 figures using only three people. I could have continued adding to this, but 35 seemed like a good number to me. Cropping the figures at the edge of the picture suggests that nobody is alone in the photograph – someone is always standing next to someone else. Society is the main subject of investigation here. The different roles being played, and the changing positions demonstrates for me, the principles of constant renegotiations of relationships with one another. The photographs serve to remind us that there is no concrete picture of society.

What do you want people to take away from your work?

Ideally, to understand the effect that works by other artists have on me. This can sometimes be sensual, other times rational and other times even educational. When I started getting into art and photography, I learned how to create images for the world. I discovered later that I find it more exciting to find worlds within pictures.

Do you confront aspects about your own self through your work?

Aspects of yourself always flow into your work – I think that’s true for almost all art. I make my art primarily for others and for the sake of art itself, but I can only be confronted by something if it comes from outside myself – something unfamiliar. That’s why I love to engage with the work of others. I get to know myself more through the work of others than through my own.

How do you feel identity and ambiguity interact in your work?

This is a very complicated but important question. I would say that aspects of identity are brought into my work by the viewers themselves, as they always differ according to who is looking at my work. Ambiguity comes from a disappointment perhaps, but it’s a crucial part of the concept of ‘togetherness’.

How would you define identity in the present day? What does it mean to you and your work?

Identity has become such a big word nowadays. I don’t feel quite confident enough to give my own definition. We live in a time where so much is in motion, and I’m curious about where this journey is taking us. I wouldn’t want to think too much about the term itself, but rather about the effects that the discussions around identity cause today. In terms of its significance to my work, I can’t tell at the moment. I have a sense of the scope of the term and how it will affect the way people read my work. When you look at my work, there is no specific points of clarity. Personally, I find the concept of resonance more interesting.

What do you enjoy most about working with portraiture – specifically with a black and white aesthetic?

What interests me most about portraiture is orchestrating the figures. I see my process as being similar to directing. There’s an interesting contradiction with my work and how I use my models. I want to depict figures that are absent and ambiguous, but at the same time are sites of great possibility. One person cannot stand for everything, so the selection and constant addition of new figures to expand this world I’m trying to create helps me deal with this problem. As long as I live and work, things will always change, new ideas will form, and old ones will be re-evaluated. This brings me back to my belief that cultural images and ideas are always evolving.

For my photographs, I work with both a black and white and a colourful aesthetic, depending on the topic of a piece. Colours draw the eye to specific things that grey tones can’t – I just see what fits best with each project.


With your piece ‘Untitled (Bat)’ you’ve mentioned that it points to an important aspect of artistic practice: the love for form, turned into a weapon. Could you talk a bit more about that?

Without form, there is only context and narrative. Form without context and narrative doesn’t exist, and if it does, then it just appears to us as decoration. In ‘Untitled (Bat)’ I present a metal rod that had been used as a weapon. I wasn’t interested in the weapon as such, but rather the form. It’s a metal rod from a shopping cart of the supermarket chain ‘hit’, and at its bottom end has been duct taped. It looks similar to a regular metal pipe, but I was fascinated by the relationship between form and function. I think this is an essential relationship when discussing art.

What is your approach to working with photography compared to other artistic mediums like video and installation?

My approach is always affected by the rules and limits of a medium itself. I believe that every piece of art must operate moving back and forth between the boundaries of a medium. Depending on the topic and project, a project can challenge and break these boundaries, as well as working well within them.

Are you working on any projects at the moment? Where do you see your practice heading?

I am currently working on several pieces at the moment. One project deals with food from industrial production, which I’m exploring as an expanded image of humanity. It has always been possible to understand and interpret social relations from food. I’ve also begun to explore the illusion of eroticism in analogy to macro-photography, but I don’t want to reveal too much. In short, I’m continuing my practice and delving into different ideas. I enjoy straying from the path and seeing where I end up.

Credits

Images · ANDRZEJ STEINBACH
www.andrzejsteinbach.de

Michele Oka-Doner

“Repetition itself is life-affirming. The wavelength calming.”

With a career spanning over five decades, American artist and author Michele Oka Doner’s work, which is fuelled by a lifelong study and appreciation of the natural world, is internationally renowned. She has worked across a wide range of mediums including “sculpture, public art, prints, drawings, functional object artist books, costume and set design and other media.”

Doner grew up on Miami Beach, and her love for the natural world comes from her father who was elected a judge and then, mayor of Miami Beach during her childhood. She states that while she loved watching him work in the courtroom, it was his passion for the outdoors that would inform the rest of her life. “As busy as he was, my father would pause to watch a bird sit in a puddle after the rain. He’d stop for a sunset. He paid attention.”

Best known for her public artworks, Doner’s work is seen by tens of millions of people are they are located in areas with high foot traffic. One example of this is ‘A Walk on the Beach’, a mile and a quarter long artwork made of over nine thousand bronzes embedded in terrazzo with mother of pearl, at Miami International Airport. The work is inspired by the marine flora and fauna of Miami.

She continues to make work in her New York studio where she has worked for nearly four decades and the space is crammed with unfinished and competed works, alongside a treasure trove of found objects such as animals bones, shells, stones and fossils. Donna states that she is a “hunter-gatherer” and that despite living in urban New York she is still connected to the natural world. NR Magazine joins the artist in conversation.

You have a longstanding interest in nature, something which your work reflects. How did that interest start and do you think your focus has shifted over the course of your career?

I was enchanted as a child growing up in sub-tropical Miami Beach, close to the water and surrounded by trees. That initial confrontation continues to hold my mind, imagination and has perfumed my life.

You believe that all art begins with the sacred. What does that mean to you?

The word transcendent speaks to that question. What is sacred perhaps is different for each of us. That said, everyone needs to have an I-thou dialogue within, a knowledge of their boundaries when faced with life’s temptations.

You draw inspiration from world histories and folklore. Are there any in particular which are especially meaningful to you? 

I love the Norse myths, over and over I seek their wisdom as well as hopes and fears. The rise and fall of family, also beautifully haunting in their telling. Then there is ‘The Iliad and The Odyssey’ that speak to us of the evolution of feeling, of love, lust, seduction, jealousy.

Naturally occurring shapes and patterns are a key theme within your work. Do you think people often overlook motifs like these in their everyday life and could the quality of their life be improved if they look the time to appreciate such patterns in nature etc? 

Patterns and shapes are magical, repeating over and over in every culture.

“Repetition itself is life-affirming. The wavelength calming.”

Has the pandemic affected how you approach your art practice and if so how? 

The pandemic allowed me time for many things I had set aside until I found time to explore, concentrate deeply. That time has resulted in clarity.

A Walk on The Beach is one of your largest and perhaps most well-known works. Could you tell me about the process of making this work?

The bronzes all came out of Doner studio over the course of 24 years.

“It became ritualised activity, a materialised tone poem, a saga. I carried the notes in my head and composed in my sleep.”

What does identity mean to you as an artist? 

Being called an artist is only an avatar. I have many identities.

How has your experience of being a female artist changed over the course of your career and has that change been for the better? 

I have always fully embraced the feminine aspect. That said, gender is a spectrum.

“We are moving in the direction of a more equitable balance for both genders and I am happy to be flowing in the river of change.”

What advice do you have for young creatives? 

Be a good dog. Dogs don’t dig up other dogs’ bones.

Are you working on any projects at the moment and what plans do you have for the future? 

I am going to be the designated guardian of the banyan tree I grew up under in Miami Beach across the street from my childhood home. It will be declared a natural wonder very soon.

Credits

Images · MICHELE OKA-DONER
https://micheleokadoner.com/

Aude Moreau

“I think what motivates my work is the word: privatisation”

Less is more or… is it? For visual artist Aude Moreau, whose works includes carpets of sugar that take up entire galleries or large scale installations that cut across the Toronto skyline, one cannot help think that ‘more’ is the grander option.

For the latter work, Moreau spelt out those same words “Less Is More Or” across the face of the Toronto-Dominion Centre’s skyscrapers. The buildings were designed by the German-American architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, and Moreau twists his famous maxim ‘less is more’ leaving it open to interpretation when juxtaposed with his towering skyscrapers. “I wanted to revisit the interpretation of the evolution of modernism and the possibilities of what is to come . . . to say ‘what now?”

Moreau’s practice encompasses her dual training in the visual arts and scenography. The time she spends creating her works range from years of painstaking preparation for ambitious installations to more short term interventions. She “focuses a relevant, critical gaze upon showbiz society, the privatisation of the public space, and the domination of the State by economic powers in today’s world.” NR Magazine joined the artist in conversation.

Much of your work is realised on a very large scale, how do you deal with the practicalities of seeing such ambitious projects through to fruition? 

I think it was my dual training in visual arts and scenography and then the fact of having worked in cinema that allowed me to develop large-scale projects. The theatre and the cinema are fields that depend on a multitude of skills in order to create a work. Also, a large part of my job involves surrounding myself with a team that can help me achieve my projects. In that sense, I act a bit like a producer.

There is a political element to your work, do you consider it a form of activism? 

Activism demands clarity of message, transparency that excludes contradiction or paradox. Art is polysemous. So I would say that it is ‘the political’ rather than politics that runs through my work.

Are there any particular concepts or inspirations which drive your creative process?

I feel like I often forget what guides me and at the same time always revolve around the same thing, without being able to name it completely. Each new project brings its own issues, its own context. Right now, I think what motivates my work is the word: privatisation. It is a term that we associate with economic vocabulary, but which, in its polysemy, describes complex realities which affect the ideological relations of our time. The criticism of the “spectacle”, the structures of power, the activation of already existing places, the ephemerality of the works, are various anchor points stated in the 70s and have nourished my practice.

Sugar can be quite a difficult substance to work with as it tends to clump together with even the slightest bit of moisture in the air. With Tapis de Sucre, was this an issue and if so did you try to stop it from hardening or did you consider the change in materials as part of the artwork?

I was not confronted with this reality during the “Sugar Carpet” installation. There have been several editions of the work in different contexts. I think it’s because the industry takes care of this kind of problem through different methods, including adding emulsifiers like magnesium stearate.

However, once the installation is complete, each accident remains imprinted on the surface without altering the trompe l’oeil and the overall vision. The accidents that mark the surface bear witness to the life of the place and momentarily shatter the trompe-l’oeil. These stigmas refer to the fragility of the work. It is the reversal of the monumental and its spectacle which echoes the fragility of our presences that makes the work moving. Like an invitation to cross the trompe-l’oeil to catch a glimpse of the deadly reality of this industry, both in its historical production methods and in its consumption.

Architecture seems to play quite a large role in your artwork, why is that?

Probably because architecture plays a big role in our daily lives. It defines our habitats, structures our movements, testifies to our time and our way of thinking while talking about previous eras. It is silent but contains in itself the production contingencies of an era, and bears witness to the historical, political, economic, technical, cultural and ideological contexts that it emerged from.

In this sense, Gordon Matta-Clark’s cuts in architecture greatly interested and challenged me. And the reading of Dan Graham’s text which puts in dialogue the cuts in the architecture of Matta-Clark and the concept of transparency in Mies van der Rohe through the question of the penetration of light was a major trigger in the process of creating my skyscraper illuminations projects.

What was the most exciting project which you worked on? 

The last project « Less is More or ».

What was the meaning behind showing your own version of Mies’ famous maxim ‘less is more’ on the skyscrapers he designed. Was it irony or something more complex? 

In fact, I modify the sentence of Mies van der Rohe by adding the word “or” to complete the occupation of the four facades of each of the skyscrapers. This has the effect of inscribing the sentence in a loop. “Less is More or Less …” This lessening of the affirmation refers to “post-modern” semantics which, while criticizing the modernist project (the great utopias, the desire for a social architecture, etc.), defends the idea that all points of view are equal. However, this equivalence of individual points of view creates new norms and forms of alienation.

So, this is not ironic towards the architectural achievements of Mies van der Rohe, but ironic compared to the flattened world we live in. A constantly updated world that works to erase traces at the same time as it blocks the horizon by creating disproportionate surpluses. Surplus of images, data, storage, memories, codes, goods, plastics, fashions, tastes, opinions, etc.

What do you want people to take away from your artwork? 

Questions and the feeling that anything is possible.

What advice would you give to young creatives interested in creating large scale and ambitious works? 

I would say that the large-scale works do not necessarily require large resources. However, it requires persistence. The realisation of the projects can take several years, even decades. Therefore, it is essential to ask the question of the need for an occupation of space of this type and to find allies. This is particularly true for projects carried out in public space.

Are you working on any projects at the moment and what plans do you have for the future? 

Yes, I am working on my next exhibition which will take place in January 2022 at the Bradley Ertaskiran Gallery in Montreal. A new corpus that will bring together sculptural and two-dimensional works around the issue of melting ice. Inspired by a brief trip to the Rockies in Alberta, visiting the Columbia Icefield and especially the Athabasca Glacier. The geographic context is particularly significant given the proximity of the glacier and the oil industry in the province.

In the longer term, I would like to achieve “the Blue Line”, which is ongoing. This is an ambitious project, the idea of which germinated about 10 years ago, and which has gone through different phases of development without being completed to date. It is about drawing a line of blue light 65 meters high on the facades of 20 buildings bordering the East River in the Financial District of Manhattan. The height corresponds to that of the rising waters if all the ice on the planet melted. When I think about this project, I tell myself that it must be done now, there is a sense of urgency that rises.

Random International

“Don’t think about doing something too long; do it, and think with your hands while doing it”

Have you ever stood in the rain and not gotten wet? If you ever visit Rain Room created by Random International, a collaborative studio founded by Hannes Koch and Florian Ortkrass, then this is something you can experience for yourself. Rain Room is an interactive art work that uses motion sensors to allow visitors to walk through an artificial downpour without getting wet and is the work that thrust the art collective into the public eye in 2005. Since then Random International has continued to create work that invites the viewer to actively participate and questions “aspects of identity and autonomy in the post-digital age.” The collaboratives studio’s aim to “explore the human condition in an increasingly mechanised world through emotional yet physically intense experiences,” and they “aim to prototype possible behavioural environments by experimenting with different notions of consciousness, perception, and instinct.” NR Magazine joins Random International in conversation.

Rain Room is perhaps your most well-known work, but which of your other works was the most exciting to work on? 

Audience (2008) was certainly a game-changer for us; it integrated several research directions that had been previously isolated: it looks at our emotional reaction to simulated life forms, it recognises body-in-space, and it starts to animate a more architectural sphere.

On the other end of the spectrum, we are enjoying working on Body / Light (2021), which is bringing an augmented and time-based elements into an immersive form of engagement.

Lastly, we’re in the pre-production stage/creation phase for a number of new bodies of work; while the pandemic has certainly been a huge challenge, it did allow space for deepening our experimentation with ideas, processes and technologies.

Are there any new technologies are you particularly interested in incorporating into your art practice?

Any technology that supports us in expressing ourselves in a language that everybody can understand is of interest to us…so we don’t really have any preferences. There are however various (diverse) areas of science that we’re paying a lot of attention to, such as different areas of decision making research, developments in machine learning, some obscure branches of behavioural science, cognitive neuroscience (focus on distributed forms of cognition), Kinaesthetic learning et al.

What do you think it is about interactive and immersive art that makes it so universally popular? Do you think peoples’ shortening attention spans due to the influx of information they receive each day from their phones will necessitate even more engaging works in the future? 

There’s an analogue, physical component to engaging with a sculpture in a space that cannot (yet) be met by screen-based forms of engagement. Maybe humans are still designed to feel safe in a real, physical space where the known rules apply or at least most of them. So that’s why we continue to seek out and share real, physical experiences.

You have stated you are interested in examining our ‘automated future’, how do you think technology, particularly AI, will influence your lives in the future, specifically in the art world? 

It looks like we’re increasingly surrounding ourselves with machines and processes that are designed to ‘read’ us, draw their own conclusions and then respond to us accordingly. All – as with most advancements in the past – to make our lives easier (predictive text actually suggested ‘easier’ after I typed ‘lives’ just now!) and safer.

The issue is that we’re not entirely compatible with those kinds of transactions; we are not wired to fully grasp the consequences of our actions and thus one could see us getting into all sorts of trouble, existential & comical alike. Questions re the transfer of agency (i.e. can an algorithm be an artist?), distributed creation processes and algorithmically curated experiences are probably some of the topics that we’ll see flaring up some more soon in the art world. Not to speak of entire macroeconomic ecosystems that are emerging (NFT’s) and likely here to stay.

Has the pandemic affected you and your approach to your art practice and if so how?

Yes. While we were already working very zoom based and in several countries/time zones already, we took the time to refocus our practice on some core themes and allowed ourselves the luxury to dive deeper into some of the topics that previously often dried up once a show was up or a commissioned work opened. Going for depth rather than breadth is something that was incredibly energising and something that we definitely continue to cherish and honour now that the pace is picking up again.

What do you want people to take away from your work?

A different perspective on the world and their own place in it.

In contrast to your use of technology, a lot of your work seems to be influenced by forms and phenomenons found in nature. Is this the case and if so why?

We’re obsessed with the ingenuity of our human species and the bandwidth of our perception, just how far and how deep it goes. So at the core of most of our work is the human form, the human condition and our emotional reaction to an increasingly automated and dematerialised world. Nature and natural phenomena connect us: to ourselves, to others and to the world around us. So they make brilliant material for art making!

How do you approach working collaboratively and what are some of the pros and cons of working as a collective?

We can’t not work collaboratively, it’s as simple as that. As a studio, we are a machine that is at its best when we generate knowledge and meaning in the creation process. Flo and I and the group that works with us do have a thing for communication; the complexity of the work dictates that we look at it from a lot of different angles. And our team, through brilliance and diversity, enables the studio to take on large, international projects in an efficient manner.

What advice do you have for young creatives who are interested in working with art and technology?

Don’t think about doing something too long; do it, and think with your hands while doing it.

Technology is a tool, not the aim.

Are you working on any projects at the moment and what plans do you have for the future?

We were commissioned by the BMW Arts Group to develop our work No One Is An Island in partnership with Studio Wayne McGregor and a score by chihei hatakeyama. Due to the pandemic, we had the opportunity to do an intimate rehearsal in London in October last year, and are planning to bring performances of that work to Frieze London in October 2021. We’re also working on several; different exhibitions and group shows to present a new body of work on Swarm Algorithms later this year, and we’ve celebrated three years since opening our Rain Room at the Sharjah Art Foundation this year. With Pace Gallery’s new spin-off Superblue, we’re working on several exciting outings so do stay tuned!

For more information, please visit random-international.com

Dhillon Shukla

“I need to know the mood of a space before I can start to imagine who occupies it”

In the yellowy November gloom, a young Londoner tries to scrape together enough money to take his crush on a date. Money Up, named after the schoolyard game, is a film that captures the “spirit, grit, and resilience of young Londoners in a lighthearted and poetic tone.”  The film has been garnering attention for Dhillon Shukla, whose previous works range from photographing young Sri Lankans who have adopted Californian surfer culture to collaborating with music artists such as Jessie Ware, Disclosure and Gorillaz. NR Magazine joined Shukla in conversation.

As both a filmmaker and a photographer how do you think your previous experience with photography projects informs your filmmaking process.

I think it’s changed over time. When I started taking pictures I was a teenager, I used to walk around and shoot locations I thought would be interesting to set a film in. I had this massive archive and I used to look through it and try to imagine a story. Then a couple of years later I started to work with musicians who were quite established, a lot of them had really creative personalities and sometimes our visions wouldn’t aline so I had to learn how to navigate that. After a few of those experiences, it began to feel natural to work with talent and for sure that’s fed into directing and working with actors.

You have stated that you predominantly worked with music and documentary. Do you find that you include those elements in your fictional works and if so how?

I take a lot of influence from music when starting a film, for me, it’s one of the best ways to find an emotion or feeling and put yourself in the headspace of a character. Then recently I completed a documentary which was shot over 4 year period and in a really observational style when I started it I only planned to shoot for 3 months, I had quite a rigid idea of what it would be but then there were a lot of surprises and the story told me it wanted to be something else. I had to listen to that. Looking back that was probably one of the best projects I could have done as it taught me to really think about an edit while shooting, I was always reacting to a moment and simultaneously trying to capture it whilst thinking of questions to ask and how I would build that into an edit. Creatively I became a lot sharper and able to generate ideas a lot quicker than I used to which helps with fiction work and to not be too attached to the script as it’s always evolving.

What was the most exciting filmmaking project you worked on?

I’d probably say Run Outs – the short film I’m making with the BFI at the moment. Like Money Up, it’s set in London but it’s darker, more ambitious and also quite impressionistic. I’m excited by how it’s developing, it feels quite fresh and more in line with the direction I want to go in.

You stated that you wanted to show the lighter side of London in your film Money Up. Do you find that people tend to have a negative stereotyped view of London and do you think your film works to change those perspectives?

I just felt that a lot of youth-orientated stories in London revolved around drugs and violence and while that’s obviously a reality for some people they’re also a lot of peoples experience that doesn’t reflect that. The intention of the film was to reframe that for sure and also show multicultural London kids in an innocent way.

You mentioned you are working on a script for a large scale work set in the future. Can you tell me more about this project?

Not really at the moment, just that it’s finished and the plan is to make it my first feature film.

What filmmakers and directors do you draw inspiration from and how do you apply that inspiration to your work?

I think when I’m writing I’m more inspired by music or locations. I need to know the mood of a space before I can start to imagine who occupies it. That’s where most ideas come from for me. They’re not many films I would say are perfect but the ones below are and I find it hard to not think about them from time to time.

Chungking Express

A Prophet

The Tree of Life

Barry Lyndon

Apocalypse Now

You shot Money Up on a small budget. What was the process you had to go through to see the film to fruition?

I wrote the script for an open call for the BBC and got selected. My exec producer connected me with an amazing casting director. They’d worked with people like Nicholas Winding Refn, Lars Von Trier and Gaspar Noe but they’d also cast all the seasons of Top Boy which made me feel they’d be perfect for the film. They were great and found all the actors in about 3 or 4 weeks. We shot in November during a lockdown so it complicated things a bit, we weren’t able to rehearse or even meet each other before we shot it. Then for all of the post-production, we had to work via Zoom as well. It was quite a different way to work but I think in the end everyone who was in it and worked on it was pretty happy with the result.

How do you think Covid will affect the indie film scene in the future?

I’m not sure but it’s been a shame all the film festivals have moved online because they’re really important for indie filmmakers to connect with people and continue to keep making work so I hope they’ll come back soon.

What advice do you have for young creatives looking to work with film and documentaries? 

Start by making something independently where you can have creative control. It’ll allow you to develop your style and attract the right collaborators for you.

What are your plans for the future?

As I mentioned before I’ve recently completed a 40-minute documentary called The Prodigy which follows 23-year-old Muay Thai world champion Greg Wootton and his 9-year-old prodigy Jimmy Clarke, they both fight out of the KO Gym in Bethnal Green which has produced over 25 world champions. It’s about two young Londoners’ pursuit for greatness in the sport which leads them to find a deeper meaning in their lives. It’s been quite an epic project so I’m really excited about releasing that later this year and also completing Run Outs. Then beyond that, I’ve got another short I’m going to make before doing my feature film.

 

Credits

Images · DHILLON SHUKLA
https://www.dhillonshukla.com/#1

Dinu Li

“Sometimes the not knowing can be the work itself”

Have you ever looked at an old photo of a family member and wondered at the moment captured in the image? Did you flip through stuffed albums and make up stories in your head about the pictures you saw there? If so, you might have something in common with multimedia artist Dinu Li. Born in Hong Kong, his family emigrated to the UK in the early ‘70s. Li draws inspiration from archival material, incorporating history, memory, and invention in his work whilst emphasising appropriation and reconfiguration. Examples of his work range from a fictional documentary inspired by his cousin’s experiences in a Cultural Revolution labour camp, ‘portraits’ of the bedrooms and possessions of illegal immigrants working in London’s Chinese restaurant trade, and a re-tracing of his mother’s life travels from China to Hong Kong and then England. “In his practice, Li examines the manifestation of culture in the everyday, finding new meaning to the familiar, making visible the seemingly invisible” and his work “is often characterised by problematising the document as part of the modus operandi.”

You have spoken about how you were drawn to the photograph of your cousin holding what looks to be a radio but is instead a painted brick. Is this camouflaged reality something that inspired you to incorporate an element of fiction into your archival works?

I’ve had this old photograph of my cousin since I was a kid, showing him as a young man in a labour camp. It is interesting how easily we are fooled into believing photographs as a representation of truth when in fact, it is so unreliable. For so long I was convinced he was listening to a radio, until decades later, when he told me it was a brick painted to look like a radio. The aerial was simply a bamboo shoot, stuck on the side and the brick was painted with nobs and buttons. Even more surprising was when I asked if he heard anything from the make-believe radio and he said he heard the love theme from the film Doctor Zhivago.

You spoke of uncertainties of memory when working with your mother on The Mother of all Journeys. Do you find it frustrating that certain personal histories are lost due to lack of documentation or the fallacy of memory?

It is not so much about it being frustrating, rather it is perhaps inevitable that we humans will get our own histories mixed up by confusion and inaccuracies or imbue our own past with figments of our own imagination. There are also the complexities of someone telling you their past, and for you to retell it back to them, as they had long-forgotten aspects of their life journeys. So, there are lots of opportunities to slip up and our abilities to recount something precisely may well be unreliable.

Do you think that activism in art can be a way to inform positive social change? And do you feel that in recent years, particularly in western media, that activist art has become a social trend that is more performative than helpful? 

As always, art influences real life and vice-versa. Life is full of dualities constantly rubbing against each other. For example, how the global is connected to the local, and how the private is related to the public. There is also one’s personal life interconnected by politics. Whether we embrace politics or not is not the point. The point is that politics comes to us whether we like it or not. I recently went to see the Artes Mundi prize in Cardiff and all the works shortlisted were fully loaded by political points of view, often quite upfront. One of the exhibiting artists Meiro Koizumi made a video work about the legacy of the Second Sino-Japanese War. I found him very brave in using art to confront a very difficult and often taboo subject for many Japanese people. He had collaborated with a group of young Japanese people and got them to recite passages from a diary written by an ex-army officer about what he had witnessed during the massacre of thousands of Chinese people at the hands of the invading forces.

“There was something extremely compelling about these young people, not only reading out loud something they’d rather not think about but doing so in the high streets of urban Japan, where passers can’t avoid overhearing atrocities from a dark moment in their history.”

The work was confrontational, but it needed to be.

I think the toppling of the statue of Edward Colston in Bristol was a positive thing. There was a lot of media coverage at the time, as the pulling down coincided with several similar dismantling. Obviously, there is always the danger that some people are more pro-active when there is media attention, as they may join in for a bit of fun, or simply interested in standing in front of a camera. But that does not mean the original impetus should be curtailed by people exploiting the situation for self-gain. The whole point of Colston’s statue being dumped into the sea is the absurdity of the statue in the first instance as well as the rude awakening of what he represented. So, the more noise the better.

You have stated you are working on something autobiographical, “delving into your youth when you were immersed in black culture”. Can you tell me more about this project? And what is your opinion on artists and creatives making work about cultures outside of their own. 

In my case, I feel it appropriate to make this work. It feels urgent and necessary, even if it’s just for my own benefit. I went to a school in inner-city Manchester that was quite diverse and was immediately drawn to a group of Jamaican youths. We hung out and went to blues parties together in Hulme and Moss Side, and very quickly I became a massive fan of dub. I loved the echo, the reverb and the repetition of a vibe, emphasised and heightened by the sound systems.

The genesis that led me to develop my new work was a recent rediscovery of a song on YouTube that I had heard as a young child growing up in Hong Kong where I was born. The song is called Always Together sung by Stephen Cheng who flew to Jamaica in the mid 1960s to record the song. The first time I heard it as a six-year-old, I took it for granted it must have been yet another traditional Chinese folk song. On hearing it again all these years later, I now realise it is in fact an early day rocksteady tune, which became a cult classic that helped shape the sound of reggae years later.

Thinking back to the triggers that allowed those Jamaican youths and me to instantly form a connection, I would say had a lot to do with cultural phenomenon’s that we valued. For example, what Bruce Lee stood for both in his movies and perhaps more significantly in his off-screen life. Besides him kicking ass, there was something about his dress sense, the way he walked, his mannerism that somehow brought people together. And of course, many artists find inspiration from other cultures. When we think about break dancing and body-popping, we see a mish-mash of inspiration from moves the dancers would have witnessed in a kung fu movie by a cartoon character. The 1990’s hip-hop group Wu-Tang Clan is another example of artists finding inspiration from cultures outside their own.

In addition to being involved in Afro-Caribbean culture in your youth, you were also involved in your school’s Anti-Nazi League. You said that ” I think mainstream society at the time was not ready to see a Chinese punk rocker walking around in the suburbs of Yorkshire.” How do you think alternative scene culture has influenced your artwork? 

It goes hand-in-hand. My life is my work and my work reflect my life. I am as interested in pop culture as I am in embracing sub-cultures. In my artwork, I avoid easy classification. I resist clear demarcations and I would not box myself in. I don’t want to make work that is easy to interpret. I like to subvert, to delineate, to contest the status quo. I am not interested in things easily understood.

“I prefer complexities, making works that are multi-layered and generous to being interpreted in many ways. I am looking for possibilities.”

What is the most interesting history/story you have come across during your work? 

I was dropped off once inside a dense bamboo forest in southern China, roughly the size of England, and stayed there making a film for a month. It felt as if I was the only human being there for about ten days before an old guy walked by. He stood there momentarily watching me filming the forest and then said bamboo made China before he disappeared. He is not wrong when you consider what one can make out of bamboo. For example, hats, chairs, ladders, chopsticks, tables, raincoats, shoes, window blinds, houses, baskets, toothbrushes and so on.

You have spoken about experiencing racism as a young boy when you first moved to the UK. Is this something that you have explored, or would consider exploring in the future, in your work, especially considering the recent rise in hate crimes against Asian people? 

I’m thinking a lot about the soil beneath our feet as we walk the earth. I have a vivid memory of being seven years old, having moved from Hong Kong to Sheffield and being pinned against a brick wall outside my house by two boys who lived a few doors away.

“After they had dished out their beatings, they finished off by scooping handfuls of soil before stuffing it in my pants and shouting get back to where I came from.”

From a conceptual point of view, there is something really interesting about some sort of walking performance, retracing one’s journey backwards, to one’s former home. It is no longer there to be found, yet quite ubiquitous is a trail of soil connecting the start of the backward walk to somewhere without an endpoint.

A lot of your work revolves around your family and their personal experiences. What are their reactions when they see your final artworks and how do they feel about being involved in your work?

I think the reaction varies depending on the project and who it’s about, or who it’s not about. It can be a very intense experience for whoever I am focusing on. We all have pasts we rather leave behind. And so, it can sometimes feel uncomfortable when I ask too many questions about a particular moment in time that someone does not want to revisit.

I have collaborated with my mum more than once. The first time on a monograph that involved many trips down her memory lane. I think my dad was a bit jealous the project was not about him, even though he features fleetingly in the project. In the end, the work was about my mum.

“I wanted to give her a voice so that the work acted as some sort of redress for herself and countless women of my mother’s generation, who mostly spent their lives serving the interest of their husbands.”

That project premiered at the Victoria and Albert Museum as a slide projection installation inside the Raphael cartoon court. It is a massive room, so the projection had to be huge to avoid being lost in the space. Naturally, the museum draws massive visitor numbers, which my mother and I was not prepared for. So on the opening, it was quite daunting having so many people filling the room, staring at the slide show, then staring at my mum. I don’t think she felt comfortable being famous for five minutes.

What advice would you give to young creatives who are interested in archival works and exploring their own culture? 

Be open-minded about what is on the surface and what one might discover beneath by digging deeper. Be equally open-minded that whatever is revealed, whether from a photograph or one’s own culture could well be staged, manufactured or mediated. Also, be mindful one may never find all the facts or all the truths behind something. And bear in mind having all the facts and truths does not mean one will make interesting work.

“It can be useful learning when to stop one’s investigation or research. Sometimes the not knowing can be the work itself.”

What projects are you working on at the moment and what plans do you have for the future? 

I have just completed a new video piece, again in collaboration with my mum, called The Ghost Orchid Gesture. The film unfolds in several typical English landscaped gardens during spring at the cusp of blossoming exuberance. My mum plays the sole protagonist, a masked old woman whose movements embody different creatures and plants. I was interested in using ancient wisdom, folklore and shamanist dancing rituals to explore the epoch of the Anthropocene we are currently living through, where our actions are causing the near extinction of a rare plant species called the ghost orchid. The orchid is not seen in the film, except for the movement of its life cycle as represented by the old woman’s hand gestures, as she mimics the manner in which it may twist and turn against the breeze.

 

Credits

Images · Dinu Li

Logan Rice

“It has to feel right, otherwise it’ll drive me crazy”

Logan Rice is a photographer, filmmaker and cinematographer based in Los Angeles, California. The young artist has established himself in the creative industry as one to watch, with an impressive body of work that includes cinematic and light-hearted collaborations with high profile clients, alongside more impassioned and personal projects.

Growing up filming skateboarding, it is only natural that the artist would make the move to Los Angeles, where his inspiration from day-to-day culture, music and fashion has now come to inform his eclectic and ever-growing practice.

Largely focused on fashion campaigns and editorials, Logan has also worked on a variety of music videos, documentaries, and exclusive content for the likes of Nordstrom, Pull&Bear, Fender, Columbia Records, L’Officiel, Adidas, Flaunt Magazine and more, as well as filming artists including Grimes, Lykke Li, Alice Glass and many others.

NR Magazine speaks with Logan to discuss the versatility of his work and how he has come to develop his style over the years.

A lot of your personal work channels feelings of nostalgia in your depictions of youth culture – is this something you consciously aim to create or is it something that just comes through naturally as part of your creative process? 

That’s definitely something people have mentioned to me before. I would say that it comes naturally. I aim to capture moments that just are and that feel real. The nostalgia element isn’t something I intentionally seek out, it just kind of happens that way.

How have you come to develop your style? 

I grew up filming skateboarding and I think that style of shooting and editing transitioned over heavily when I started creating a lot of content in the music world and eventually into all the fashion projects I’ve done over the past few years. I never noticed until fairly recently when people would point it out and be like, “You used to film skateboarding right? I can see it in your work.”

I definitely use some of the same shooting techniques that I used as a 14/15-year-old filming skateboarding. It has obviously improved over the years but it’s the same method. The same goes for editing – I’ve always edited skate videos to the mood and beat of the song and I let that dictate how a project comes together. I never understood how people could make a rough edit with no music behind it. The music dictates the entire flow and feeling of the project, and I just let the feeling take over rather than looking at something for what technically makes sense. It has to feel right, otherwise it’ll drive me crazy.

How do you juggle your more commercial work alongside personal projects? Do the two influence each other at all or do you have clear separations between your personal and commissioned pieces? 

It gets hard to balance both, honestly, but commercial work always comes first. That’s the work that allows me to be a freelance artist living in Los Angeles and it funds my personal projects and editorials.

Personal work is very important, so whenever I get an idea or have free time, I definitely try to push myself to do something that’s meaningful to me. Those projects take a long time to complete though. I always overthink it or get busy with something else but eventually they’ll all get done.

The personal projects I’ve done are still some of my favourite things I’ve created. Even if they are 2, 3, 4, 5 years old, they still hold up in my opinion. Whenever I watch them now, I’m like, “Yeah, this is it. This is the kind of work that really keeps me going.”

Commercial work shows me what I’m capable of with a bigger team, budget, and resources and pushes me on a production scale. But with that being said, personal work shows me I don’t need a huge team or budget to make something that I really love or that I think is great.

What’s important for you when directing? What sort of things inspire a narrative and help you tell a story? 

The most important thing to me is capturing moments that are real and that feel real. Pre-visualized shots are great, and you always need to have a game plan, but I think I’ve always created the best content from just trying random things to see what works. Also, a lot of the time I roll a bit before and after the main take and those little off moments can sometimes be the most beautiful and unique.

“Storytelling is much less important to me than having a project that makes you feel a certain way.”

What aspects of your own life influence your work? 

I think just living in the moment and going with the flow of things. I really try not to overthink and not do anything that doesn’t feel right. That’s how I’ve always been as a person and it’s how I tend to approach projects. I just have to trust my instincts and usually the outcome is better than anything I try to force.

How have you managed creatively during the pandemic? 

The first few months were absolutely brutal, but over time I started doing shoots for brands my friends owned or worked at and I started doing music videos a lot because it seemed like the majority of the fashion industry was on hold. That kept me busy for a while until everything came back full swing August 2020, and it’s been pretty steady since then. Some months are slower than others, but I always have different things to work on.

I do wish I had picked up new creative hobbies during my time off but to be honest with you,

“I just ate pasta, drank wine, played a lot of video games, and binged a ridiculous amount of TV shows… and I’m ok with that.”

Are you working on any projects at the moment? 

I’m in post-production on about 3 or 4 projects right now and I just did a shoot over the weekend that I’m really excited about. I have a few really cool editorial projects coming out in July and I’m always making content with my really good friend and artist Hudi, so we’ve got some music videos and other things in the works.

 

Credits

Images · LOGAN RICE
www.logan-rice.com

Tatsuo Miyajima

“If you want to use technology to create your work, stop studying technology”

Sometimes it can feel like life is dominated by numbers, sums and allotments of time, all looming over us in with the blinking flashing urgency that comes with our increasingly digital environments. With Tatsuo Miyajima’s work, this feeling has become reality. Whilst his art ranges across a wide variety of mediums there is a single focus; numbers. Specifically the kind you find on old digital clocks or calculators. Miyajima is one of Japan’s leading sculptures and installation artists, and his work is centred around his use of LED counters, which flash sequences of numbers from one to nine. His work is also heavily influenced by Eastern and Buddhist philosophy. NR Magazine joined the artist in conversation. 

One of your three artistic concepts is ‘keep changing’. How do you think your work has changed throughout your career?

For the first 7 years after my debut, I was only making installations that showed LED works in a dark room. However, in 1995, I had an opportunity to do a performance in London, and from that point on, I began to do works that involved people and asked them to participate. Since 2005, I have been working with a wider range of materials, including digital numeric drawings, photographs, and computer programs, in addition to LED works. Since 2010, I have been using AI in my work, and I am still expanding the range of my expression with various materials.

You have said that “art has long been isolated from the real world, and spoiled within a framework of the ‘art world’. Do you think social media apps, such as Instagram and Tiktok, on which creators can show their works is an effective way to break down these barriers?

In terms of the fact that many people can express themselves easily, I say yes. However, the point that the expression is too concerned about the reputation of “likes”. It means No.

How has the pandemic affected you and has it had any impact on the way you approach your art practice?

It was sad that I could not go abroad because of the pandemic. However, I was grateful for the fact that I was able to work calmly. I am also glad that the pandemic has made it clear that art is an essential and important part of human life. It is hard to say right now how this pandemic will affect us in the future. However, I am sure that it will naturally appear in my works in the future.

Tell me more about your recent work Counter Object – 000 (2020). What was the process behind it?

In fact, this work was also born out of the pandemic. 20 years ago, I did an installation in Stuttgart where I placed mirrors of digital numbers on the floor. During the pandemic, the Buchmann Galerie organized a group exhibition, but I could not go to Germany. So, Buchmann suggested that I show something similar to the work I did in 2000. I proposed a new idea. I proposed a new idea, which was to display mirror-like digital numbers on the wall and change them with dice. This is Counter Object – 000, which I plan to develop further by using different materials.

Your art is largely based in technology, are there any new technologies that you are interested in incorporating into your artwork?

I always have a concept and use technology as a tool to realise it, but not the other way around. If technology is the first step in creating a work of art, it will not be art, but only product design.

Although a lot of your work revolves around numbers, the number 0 is never shown in your work, why is that? 

This is because 0 means “death”.

“Death is invisible to the eye. That’s why I always represent ‘0’ as blank, or dark so that I can’t see it.”

Like your work, much of the world relies heavily on technology. Have you ever considered what would happen if that technology was no longer available to us and if that ever happened what artworks would you create then?

If I had been born in the third century, I would have made “mosaics” out of stone. If I had been born in the 13th century, I would have been painting with “tempera”. And if I had been born in the 18th century, I would have definitely painted in “oil”. All these techniques were the latest technology of their time. You can see that artists have always expressed themselves with technology that is adapted to the times.

What was the particular concept behind C.F. Loop: Helix no. 2 and was there any reason why you chose blue for the LEDs? 

C.F. Loop is a Study Model that considers the structure of time. Time is connected to a circle, but it must be an irregularly shaped circle. I expressed this by having the numbers counting 9-1 lined up in a circular pattern. In the series of works, I also used red and green LEDs. Each color expresses the differences of each character.

What exactly is it that you want people to take away from your work? 

I do not impose a concept on the viewer.

“Artworks are not meant to give something to the audience. Rather, I believe it is something that allows the viewer to discover the sensitivity and imagination within themselves.”

What was the most exciting project you worked on and why?

I am currently working on a piece called “Sea of Time – Tohoku”, which will be my most exciting project yet.  After experiencing the 2011.3.11 Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami, I have created a project plan to work with people in Tohoku. LED devices used in the project represent the eternity of life. I am aiming to ask 3,000 people mainly from the affected areas to set the speed of the LED display to create an artwork. I plan to install it at a high-class location in the Tohoku area where we can see the sea.

Your work Hiten (2020) reminds me somewhat of a map of the world. Were you trying to create any particular shapes with the placement of the LED numbers or is it purely abstract? 

This work HITEN refers to an angel painting in a cave in Dunhuang, China. This angel is clothed in a robe of extreme colors and is fluttering freely in the sky without being controlled by anyone. So it is an abstract way of arrangement, placed so that it can fly freely in the sky.

What advice do you have for young creatives looking to create art with technology?

If you want to use technology to create your work, stop studying technology. There are many technology specialists who are better than you. Instead, you should study philosophy, anthropology, and art, and focus on creating original ideas. Then you can use technology to express them. 

Credits

Images · Tatsuo Miyajima
https://tatsuomiyajima.com/

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