Henriette Sabroe Ebbesen

“standing with one leg rooted in the world of science and the other leg rooted in the world of art”

Distorting bodies and exploring the intersection between painting and photography, Danish photographer Henriette Sabroe Ebbesen explores aspects of the surreal and works with reflections and collage to craft unique landscapes and new realities. Investigating the painterly potential of photography as a medium, Ebbesen distorts our sense of reality by manipulating the objects and space within the picture frame, and prompts us to question the truth in what we see. Ebbesen’s work also addresses concepts of identity and the subconscious, with a particular focus on the relationship of the self with the surrounding world.

Alongside her artistic pursuits, Ebbesen studies medicine, which she finds to be a great influence on her creative process – particularly the neurological processes that take place when creating a piece of art. Intrigued by the laws of and structures of the physical world, Ebbesen draws on this knowledge to build her collection of odd imagery that she creates intuitively, informed by the subconscious mind that is often in opposition to the logical thinking favoured by the field of science.

The vibrancy and fragility of the natural world imbue a sense of tranquility within Ebbesen’s work, and her detailed exploration of memories and conflicts within her personal life establishes a vulnerability and charm to her practice.

NR Magazine speaks with Ebbesen to learn more about her creative process and to discuss the relationship between art, science and identity.

Your work plays a lot with reflections and collage to create a unique sense of the surreal – how did you come to develop this style of working? 

I’ve always had an experimental approach to my work. I started to experiment with distortion because I wanted to create work that bordered painting and photography. Distortions could give me this interesting effect. I use different kinds of mirrors and reflective material to create the distortions and illusions in my work. I only use Photoshop for colour and light editing. It is both an experiment for me to see how I can create an illusion with the mirrors, but I also want the viewer to question what they see when they see the finished work. Practically speaking, I try to bend reality and capture it with my camera for the viewer to experience a different reality than the one they are used to.

Collage comes into my work in my series ‘Growing Up’ where I mix my own photography with childhood photos from our family album. This work is a bit like making a puzzle or a digital painting.

Your work also deals with concepts of identity and the subconscious. Were these concepts always something you sought out to explore?  With the theme of this issue being Identity, I’d love to discuss how you feel you explore yourself and your identity through your work.

When creating my work, I feel like I discover bits of myself piece by piece. This comes from the creating process and from analysing my own work where I feel like thoughts and memories from my subconscious mind suddenly take place in my conscious mind. By becoming aware of my subconscious thoughts, I feel like I learn things about my own identity that I think I could only learn though the art-making process.

Does living in Copenhagen influence your work at all?

Living in Denmark with its dark winters really makes you appreciate the sunlight when it appears. During the long winters I long for warm and bright summer nights and dream myself back to this time of the year.

When the first sun appears in the spring, I love to point my head towards the sun and with closed eyes sense the warmth and light reaching my forehead and eyeballs behind my eyelids. To me, this is a true feeling of happiness, and this feeling is something I try to capture with my camera when shooting in direct sunlight in most of my works.

When winter arrives, I can then look at the work I shot during the summer and dream myself back to this feeling.

Your series ‘Feminine Development’ addresses the alienation of the female body and female sexual identity. You mentioned that creating the series also confronted your own body insecurities. Have you felt this kind of confrontation or self-realisation with your other work?

Yes definitely. My work always has something to do with me and what I have on my mind. I try to create work that challenges me on a personal level. This could be in the form of trying out a new technique or digging into a theme that disturbs my mind. It really depends on the type of series, but I would get bored if my work wasn’t challenging for me to create. As soon as I feel safe in an area of my creative work, I try to move on to the next challenge and create something new.

Is there a specific series that you have the strongest connection with?

I would say my series ‘Growing Up’ as it addresses my personal life on another level compared to some of my other work. I have strong memories from my childhood and think of this period of my life as happy and care-free. I enjoyed re-discovering moments from this time of my life when I was searching for images in our family albums.

Your work also has a real sense of serenity and has a dream-like aesthetic. Do you take inspiration from nature? 

I believe inspiration comes from everything I experience and see both on a personal level and what I read and study. I probably get inspiration from all visual impressions I get throughout the day. I also get a lot of inspiration from meeting different people and hearing about their different life experiences and worldviews – it challenges me to think differently. When I have emotional experiences in my personal life is probably when I get the most inspired, but I can never pinpoint exactly where my art comes from. It’s probably a mix of all the impressions and experiences layered in my mind.

The nude body and nature are elements that we know from the real world. I think it’s interesting to place these objects and sceneries in a surreal context as it becomes a clash between something familiar and something odd.

I was always fascinated with science, and I love to play with ideas of manipulating the physical rules of this world. According to the general theory of relativity, you can bend space and time. This is what I try to illustrate in my works by literally bending light rays with mirrors. Mathematical structures, physical laws, botanical plants and so many other things from the natural world are so fascinating that they even seem surreal.

With your series ‘Growing Up’ you mention that you rediscovered pieces of your childhood personality. Could you talk a bit more about that?

I think it’s really interesting to look back at childhood images of myself and other people I know well and try to understand the look in their eyes, their smile, gestures, etc. When looking at these kinds of images I feel like it’s the same soul looking out through the eyes of the child as the adult I know them as today.

“Looking at myself as a child has also helped me understand my own identity better.”

How one’s personality has developed through life really stands out when you look at someone’s childhood image.

You’ve worked with some iconic publications like Vogue Italia and Vanity Fair, as well as other designers and artists. Do you prefer working alone or collaboratively?

I love to collaborate with other creatives because I learn so much every time. Coming from a science background, it’s really satisfying working with people who understand the creative language and process. I would say a mix of both collaborative work and working alone is the best option for me, as I enjoy the collaborative process, but I also want to stay true to my own language and mind, which I work the best with when I’m on my own.

Have you learnt anything new about yourself or your creative process over the past year? I imagine being an artist during a pandemic must have been a big struggle.

Yes and no. I think my daily routine hasn’t changed much, as I could continue my normal routine studying medicine alongside my art-making process, which usually only requires me and a model. On the other hand, I had to postpone my first solo show a few months before it could be held in May in Oslo at Vasli Souza Gallery. Also because of Coronavirus I couldn’t go myself, but generally I think I’ve been in a lucky position during the pandemic.

Your work involves a lot of distortion and manipulation of forms. How do you find the potential for these qualities when looking at your subjects and the world around you?

My work revolved around the boundaries between reality, fantasy and the surreal. Here, photography can do something that a painting, for example, cannot. We have a more realistic relationship to photography as a medium because it’s used to document reality. My technique and photographic style studies where the boundaries are between painting and photography. I started to experiment with distortion because they could give me this interesting painterly effect.

I want viewers to think about what is real in the things we see. In concrete terms, the mirrors I use also function as a symbolic boundary between two worlds, with reality on one side and imagination on the other. Since I study medicine alongside being an artist, I also feel that I’m on the border of two worlds, standing with one leg rooted in the world of science and the other leg rooted in the world of art.

I’d love to know more about how studying medicine has influenced you and your art.

I was always interested in both natural science and art and was never able to choose between them, so instead I went for both. In the future I would like to research the creative process of artists and their art-making. Aside from studying, I always need to express myself artistically. I think I became an artist because I couldn’t hold back from the creative process.

I’m really fascinated by what happens in the brain when you create art, because I don’t really understand what goes on in my own head when I create my own work. It’s a process that to me, seems very subconscious and connected to feelings rather than the logical and conscious mind.

For my bachelor’s thesis, I wrote about how we all see colours differently due to genetic variations in our cones (which are the receptors that senses the light spectrum’s wavelengths in our eyes). I had this idea because I always subconsciously end up choosing colours from the same colour spectrum for my artworks, whereas other artists seem to use a different colour spectrum that is unique to their own work. I thought we might see colours a bit different for this reason, and it turns out we actually do. For my master’s thesis I will be writing about genetic traits and links between the mind of creatives and the mind of people diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. It might be that cliché of genius and ‘madness’ being connected, but when I was interning at a psychiatric department, it was really interesting talking to people diagnosed with schizophrenia, as;

“I felt that the difference between an artist making up their own universe for their work is not that far removed from someone living with schizophrenia experiencing their own surreal world.”

This is not to romanticise mental disorders or describe artistic minds as something pathological, but rather a better understanding of the links and differences between the two. It could possibly help people with mental disorders get better diagnoses and treatment.

The female form and nudity seem to be important concepts that you explore with your work. What are your thoughts on the relationship between the body and identity?

My series ‘Feminine Development’ addresses the alienation of the female body and female sexual identity, which has often been distorted by society. With cosmetic surgery and genetic manipulation, almost anything becomes possible in the strive of fulfilling society’s expectations of beauty and perfection. Using mirrors to manipulate the body in this series serves to illustrate how we’re slowly moving away from reality and merging with a surreal, parallel world where it is questionable what a natural body looks like. Creating the series, I confronted my own body insecurities by creating images that would celebrate the female body for its capability of giving birth and creating a child, starting from the division of just two cells.

I think the body and identity are two things that are inseparable. When you look at yourself in the mirror you identify as yourself. I think the way we talk to ourselves and the way we view our own bodies has a huge impact on our self-image and identity.

Do you aim to draw specific qualities out of the subjects of your photographs, or is it more a case of you wanting to capture something that is already present?

It really depends on the person who is being photographed and what they give me to work with. Some people have a natural talent for performing and expressing themselves artistically as models. For others, I give them more directions, but most of my models perform like actors in my surreal universe of images. Emotions are real and pure, but good actors are also able to show this.

I’m beyond thankful to all the people who have ever posed for me and trusted my vision and weird ideas. Most of them are my friends or family, so it’s a personal experience working with and portraying these people.

Do you have any rituals or habits that help to motivate you creatively?

Most ideas come to me naturally and without even knowing where they’ve come from, but a great catalyst for bringing my ideas to life is probably going for a run. Running helps open my mind so my thoughts can wander freely to form a new creative input. When creating new work, I usually have a vague idea in mind of what I want to capture. I bring the model, the props and go to a location usually outside in a park or field. The weather is very important as well, as I almost always shoot outdoors with strong sunlight and a blue sky – that’s when the colours appear most vibrantly and beautifully to me. What happens in front of the camera is determined by my mood, the mood of the model, and sometimes just by accident. When creating the images, I lose all sense of time and basic needs. It’s magical to be in this state of mind, but I’m physically and mentally very drained when I’m done with a shoot, so I need to rest before coming back to do another one. Reading, studying and being with people I love also recharges my batteries.

Where do you see your practice heading?

Recently I’ve been interested in the moving image, and I’ve been experimenting with making art and fashion movies. I would like to continue in this direction and create works that are on the border of moving image and still photography as a kind of living photograph, as well as making short films. Moving image is a whole new world to me and I’d love to explore these possibilities further.

My new series of male nudes called ‘Modern Masculinity’ is also taking shape at the moment. I think it’s interesting to work with the male body and see what happens when I mix masculine bodies into my feminine universe. My goal is to portray the men as soft and gentle and to show another side of the masculine.

Credits

Images · HENRIETTE SABBROE EBBESEN
www.henrietteebbesen.com

Hassan Kurbanbaev

“Photography is my interlocutor.”

Shining a light on the hidden gems of Uzbekistan, photographer Hassan Kurbanbaev documents and explores the identities of the people and landscapes of his home country. Capturing the spirit of the country’s capital city Tashkent, Kurbanbaev’s also uses photography as a tool to better understand his surroundings. Immersing himself in the country’s emerging generation, his sentimental perspective shines a warm light on the often-overlooked aspects of Uzbek life.

A Soviet republic for the majority of the 20th century, Uzbekistan became independent in 1991, and the country’s history of immigration has made Tashkent a city of great diversity. Kurbanbaev’s body of work reflects this richness of culture, as he documents Tashkent’s youth, inner city spots, rural landscapes and personal portraits. Snapshots of urban life bathed in sunlight, trees caressed by the breeze and locals lost in thought – the photographer’s love for his city stands out in his work.

Kurbanbaev’s work has planted the seeds for a new era of liberated image-making in Uzbekistan. Championing authenticity and showcasing his heritage, he speaks into existence a new kind of artistic expression for the Uzbek photography scene and inspires other emerging artists to do the same.

NR Magazine speaks with the photographer to learn more about the history of artistic censorship in Uzbekistan, the blossoming photography scene, and Kurbanbaev’s exploration of his country’s identity.

When did you first start getting into photography? 

I took up photography while studying at the Tashkent State University of the Arts, where I entered the Faculty of Cinematography in the early 2000s. Now it’s slightly difficult to call this university a full-fledged education, but at the time we had a photography course that helped me understand that it was something I’d be passionate about in the future. After graduation, I didn’t immediately become a photographer in the full sense of the word. I worked for several years in radio and did various jobs, but eventually returned to photography as a profession. I guess I understood photography as something that made my existence useful and conscious.

You’ve mentioned being ‘full of questions’ about your ‘identity as a citizen of Uzbekistan’ – as this issue of the magazine is about identity, I’d love to delve deeper into your thoughts about that. 

I think that I, like a lot of other people from the post-Soviet era, experience this feeling of uncertainty about questions concerning the concept of self-representation, a homeland and community really means for us.

Uzbekistan with its modern borders was formed by Joseph Stalin, who personally laid out every centimetre of the border. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, Uzbekistan retained a totalitarian-type, autocratic, harsh regime that was present for many years, which of course stopped any real understanding of yourself and the place you live. Instead of turning to a critical study of history and our national identity, we turned to propaganda and a constant zombification of Uzbekistan being ‘a country with a great past and a great future’. You just don’t believe what you’re being told – something inside you resists. My childhood in the 90s was when Uzbekistan became independent, and at the start there was still a sense of freedom – the borders opened, we had MTV, and I was definitely shaped by that feeling of freedom.

Uzbekistan slowly started to return to its old ways, which prevented us from accepting ourselves as part of the country. I come from the south-west of Tashkent, where they mostly speak Russian, and I was also raised in a Russian-speaking environment, so this was also part of what confuses me about my identity. These internal conflicts have haunted me all my life. Photography helps me to constantly examine my country from different angles and to seek the truth, even if it’s not something I reflect in my work. Photography is my interlocutor.

Your work, and ‘Untitled (Portrait of Uzbekistan)’, stands out as an exploration of your country and the things that unite it. Has documenting the people and places of your home uncovered anything in particular for you? Have any specific moments resonated with you?

Yes, I think my love and respect has grown for the people living in the provinces and small towns. They are very hardworking and good people, able to withstand many hardships that life has presented them with. I don’t know if I reflect the determination of their spirit in my photography, but when you are with them, you definitely feel it.

Your work is the first I’ve encountered of its style that details life in Uzbekistan. It is clear that life in the rural parts of the country is often overlooked – is that something you wanted to change through creating the series? 

From a visual archive stance, modern Uzbekistan and personal photography in particular lacks a solid foundation. By and large, Uzbekistan is well represented in the colonial view of the past few centuries, and as an almost ideal picture from the Soviet Union, but in contemporary photography, there are only a few series from local photographers that have an impact on the Uzbek photography scene. Personally, I couldn’t name more than three people that have gained recognition documenting Uzbekistan or that have had their work published in books. The country itself is interesting to me and as I travel, I learn more and try to share this experience. To me, it seems that now is the time for local photographers to document their city, or anywhere they feel connected to. The most important thing is expressing your opinion and your viewpoint as much as possible – this is the only way to form a new community of photographers, and a community in Uzbekistan, which I think should then be transformed into an institution.

As a photographer, how do you find life in Uzbekistan? 

Only from about 2016 did I feel motivated to work here as a photographer. The country has changed for the better over the years, but some reformation processes have slowed down.

Most of the photographs in the series are portraits, but there are also poignant still lifes, as well as sprawling landscapes – does the natural environment and the Uzbek landscape have a big impact on you? 

I am not a naturalist or a landscape photographer, but I do love nature, and sometimes I find it necessary to spend some time in solitude with it. Landscapes and still lifes are just a continuation of the study of my country through the eternal images of nature.

Do you ever find it hard to explore your creative freedom given such a long history of censorship where you’re from? 

Yes, it happens constantly. Some artists I know still have a fear of putting themselves at risk with their work. At the same time however, I think that now is the time to act on and explore topics that wouldn’t have been possible previously. I don’t limit myself in what I do, but I know that at any moment everything could change. You never know what tomorrow might bring.

The 139 Documentary Centre in Tashkent has become an important place for the photography scene in Uzbekistan. Could you talk a bit about its impact on you? 

It would have been impossible to imagine this centre opening a few years ago. It is a small but important organization that is finally really engaged in visual research of Uzbekistan, through documentary photography and exhibitions of young artists. The centre has helped support artistic freedom, which has been much needed for the arts community in the country for many years. I’m very glad that I held my first solo exhibition here.

What has it been like over the years having more freedom to document what you want? Has there been a noticeable difference in your creative process now to back when you first got into photography? 

It has not been an easy journey, and I feel like I’m just at the beginning of it. Photography is a plastic medium and requires constant commitment. I am changing along with the country. In other words, this is my evolution – from an amateur fashion and stock photographer, to rethinking my work, understanding the key moments, and constantly learning in my profession.

You’ve mentioned how important it is for Uzbek artists to document and speak about Uzbekistan. How else does identity and your hometown Tashkent inspire and influence your work? 

I’m an introvert, and sometimes to get some time away from everything, I walk for hours in the city, in the courtyards or along the road. It has always helped me in the worst moments of my life, especially as a teenager. Tashkent has always been my friend. In 2016 I returned to photography after a break, I began to photograph my own city and its youth. This helped me return to my profession. If all Uzbek artists address their community, it would be so cool – we really need a variety of stories! But then again, I know that a main problem is money. Young artists don’t have money to fund their own projects, and I often experience these problems myself.

How has the pandemic affected Tashkent? 

2020 was a frightening reality for the whole world. Like the rest of the country, Tashkent, was no exception. The pandemic obviously affected the economy and peoples’ way of living. For example, we had economic migration to Russia and Kazakhstan, and many people were unable to work to earn money for their families. I don’t know how they survived.

What do you anticipate for the future of Uzbek photography? 

I think in five or six years you’ll recognise some great projects from new artists in Uzbekistan. We live in a time where we can use a platform like Instagram to help realise and share our thoughts and ideas. I think that if censorship doesn’t return to my country, then our future is bright. But in general, being an artist in Uzbekistan is hard.

What inspires you about other Uzbek artists? 

This is a great question! If we’re talking about photography, there are some young photographers that I follow on Instagram who I met at the 139 Documentary Centre. They work in the same genre of subjective documentary, and there is a lot of personal touch to their stories, which inspires me the most.

Your series ‘Logomania’ explores how signs and symbols of Western culture have become deeply embedded in the daily lives of people in Uzbekistan, and you’ve commented on how this has had a devastating effect on your country. Could you talk a bit more about this and the ‘crisis of self-identification’ that you’ve mentioned?  

After almost a century-old totalitarian regime, Uzbekistan gained freedom, but at the same time there was an increase in the uncontrolled import of poor-quality goods. This is how the market was formed, influencing our perception of beauty and prosperity, and it strongly influenced the emerging culture of Uzbekistan.

Globalization and the lack of vital improvements in education made us dependent on everything Western, and as a result, we formed a mediocre culture of self-identification that was reflected in everyday life. For the series I looked at this problem through the lens of everyday fashion, which is fascinating to me. In these gold Gucci patches on the velour local dressing gowns, I saw everything I mentioned above.

What do you value most about Uzbek culture? Do you have any favourite people or places to photograph? 

I appreciate their modesty, humility and their great love for life. I appreciate the strength of our people who bring goodness and light into this unjust reality. I am still exploring my country, so whatever I photograph now becomes my favourite place.

Do you have a particular process when shooting or is it just something that comes naturally to you? 

It depends on the projects, for example, Logomania is a completely staged project, but most of the time my process is candid – my friend and I collect backpacks with cameras and travel without a specific aim in mind.

Are you working on any projects at the moment? 

Yes, I am working on a new project that investigates the changes in Uzbekistan 2016 to the present day.

Discover Hassan Kurbanbaev’s work here hassankurbanbaev.com

Hajime Sorayama

“The reason why other works are regarded as vulgar is because they lack love and ability”

“Ugh, I’m sick of dating apps.” A friend slams their phone down in disgust. “It would be so much easier if we could just get a robot boyfriend.” “A sexy robot,” I reply, laughing, but privately thinking that it sounds much easier than navigating Hinge. For Hajime Sorayama the concept of the ‘sexy robot’ is not merely a passing joke between friends but his life’s work. Most well known for his hyperrealistic illustrations of eroticised feminine robots, Sorayama describes his highly detailed style as ‘superrealism’ stating that he “deals with the technical issue of how close one can get to one’s object.”

As a kid, Soryama states that he was always picking up scraps of metal from the lathe factory and had a love of shiny things. “They say only crows and humans are awed by shiny things. That’s why I like to create reflectivity and transparency in my artwork. It’s easy to produce those effects in a video, but not on a flat surface.” He is quite open about his metal fetish stating that  “Even Nobel winners are often people who nobody quite ‘gets.’ You should be proud to be an outsider.”

Influenced by the American pin-up girl Sorayama’s work explore’s taboo, fetishism, bondage and genetic manipulation by presenting images of unattainable idealised women and he has risen from cult fame to internationally recognised artist as a pioneer of the sci-fi erotica genre. His work extends far beyond the Japanese art scene and his influence can be seen in media ranging from Hollywood films to advertising, robotic dogs or dinosaurs and beyond. NR Magazine joins the artist in conversation.

What does identity mean to you as an artist?

I’ve been working as an artist for about 30 years, and I’ve always done what I like. I think that the style that you are comfortable with is what leads to your individuality, wouldn’t you agree?

Do you think viewers connect with your work because there is a collective desire for escapism in this post-capitalist society and people find the alien and uncanny comfortingly different?

I communicate with fans through my various works. That’s why I don’t give them titles. If you share the same values as I do, you can understand what I am trying to say by looking at the work and feeling it.

If people who feel stuck in the same societal norms don’t try to escape, I don’t think anything will change, whether it is capitalism or post-capitalism. If you don’t take action yourself, changing your environment won’t change your life either. This kind of goes back to the answer I gave to question one…

You have stated that you are not interested in the future yet your work imagines a future where women are no longer under the patriarchy and are viewed as goddesses. Have you also considered a future where robot x human and AI virtual relationships are a possibility?

I don’t think the future will come when humans and robots or AI will be on equal footing. It is self-evident that humans have the upper hand. The disparity between men and women is a different story. I don’t think it makes sense to make minor discriminations among the same species. We are all primates.

“I think there can be romantic feelings between humans and robots or AI. We also have lust and attachment to inorganic objects.”

Are there any sci-fi films or books that you are particularly drawn to or enjoy?

You may or may not have heard of a book by Junichiro Tanizaki. He authored a book about how close one’s fetish is to insanity. I also like “Blade Runner”. It’s about the love between a human and a machine. Beyond this, I also like the story of Pugmalion in Greek mythology, who became so fetishistic that he even had a child with a stone statue he created.

Do you think aesthetic cybernetic body modifications will become common in the near future? If you were to design body modifications what would you create?

First of all,

“I don’t think becoming a cyborg will become a common practice. This is because there is no such thing as something that everyone finds equally beautiful.”

People instinctively want to be popular in a wide and shallow range, so beauty that is specialized in one direction will never become common. I think there are people who might become cyborgs purely as a personal hobby. It’s a person’s personality that dictates whether they like it or not.

If I were to design a body modification, I don’t know what the person likes or if they enjoy it, thus I think they should do what they want.

One issue with creating ‘realistic’ robots is the ‘uncanny valley’ phenomenon. Is this something you considered when creating your sexy robots? Do you think robot designs in the future will be similar to your robots because of this?

The “uncanny valley” phenomenon occurs because of the lack of love in the motif. I think this is a problem that can be easily overcome with love and ability. Dolls and robots are just like dead bodies. I’m trying to breathe life into them. I think the robot of the future will not look like my robot. Each of us has our own fetishes.

You worked with SONY on the concept design for their robotic pet AIBO. Do you see yourself working in other robot designs in the future as technology advances?

I would like to try it. But I think I will be turned down. Because what I want to complete is not profitable. For example, just by looking at the first motif prepared by a company, I know the result. It’s not good, and I don’t want to do it.

There is something of an inside joke in the art community, particularly amongst illustrators, that if you learn how to draw fetish art you’ll never have to worry about money. You yourself have stated that you have a metal fetish and that is seen in your work. Why do you think your work is considered fine art while other similar art is considered lowbrow?

The reason why other works are regarded as vulgar is because they lack love and ability.

What advice do you have for young creatives looking to explore technology and eroticism in their work?

Do you like women? If it’s something you like, you can do it even if you die! Can you keep doing it for 30 or 40 years? I think it’s good if you like it that much.

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

It’s a secret. I’m working on something that will surprise everyone. I just hope the world will be okay with it.

Credits

Images · HAJIME SORAYAMA
www.sorayama.jp/

Erwin Wurm

“Absurdity helps me to clarify, to make the view clear”

Have you ever seen a fat car? Maybe a thin house? It sounds like the start of a joke but for Austrian artist Erwin Wurm, who has spent much of his career exploring sculpture, space and the human form, it is a way to gain a new perspective or understanding of the world around us. While Wurm uses humour as a tool to get peoples attention, ultimately his work is intended to prompt people to look at things more carefully.

With one of his most well-known works, One Minute Sculptures, viewers are invited to take part in and become the artwork themselves. Wurm provides handwritten instructions accompanied by cartoon-like drawings so that viewers can pose with everyday objects, often in absurd and humorous ways.

Wurm states that “I am interested in the everyday life. All the materials that surrounded me could be useful, as well as the objects, topics involved in contemporary society. My work speaks about the whole entity of a human being: the physical, the spiritual, the psychological and the political.” NR Magazine joined the artist in conversation.

Much of your work revolves around the concept of consumerist excess and gluttony. Does your work critique the people who are manipulated to consume in such an excessive way or the capitalist society that entices and forces them to do so? 

It doesn’t critique the people, it critiques the system and the idea of the system. But on the other side, it wasn’t only a critique. I was working on the notion of sculpture and what does it mean to make a sculpture. Then I came to some basic questions, when I make something I add volume and take volume away. When we gain and lose weight we do the same, so you could say gaining and losing weight is a sculptural thing. I found this strange absurd relation interesting. The sculptural issue was always combined with the social issue. Sometimes it’s more a critique of consumerism, sometimes it’s addressing questions about our entire life, and psychology, and all these things.

One of your most well-known series of works is One Minute Sculptures in which viewers pose with objects to become ephemeral sculptures. As these ‘sculptures’ are then captured with photography what separates them from say, an image on social media with someone posing in a similar way? What makes one a ‘sculpture’ and the other simply a funny image? 

Well first, I started doing them in 1992 far before social media existed. At the time I invited people to follow my instructions and I made little drawings so people could realise the sculpture. It was an attempt to democratise the concept, so everybody can be a part of the art piece. So I invited the public to follow these instructions and at that time we offered mainly, at the exhibitions, Polaroid photographs. So they would have a Polaroid taken of them and then they would go home with it.

This was far before social media existed, but then social media came and now everyone comes into my shows with mobile phones and takes selfies. But it’s cool, it’s great, and they transport them out into the world. And many people know my work. I was surprised that this became a success because as an artist you always have doubts. I was very surprised that it became so successful.

You consider the physical act of gaining and losing weight as a sculptural gesture. Is the intention for your work simply to explore the sculptural form of gaining and losing mass or is it a greater commentary of the danger and damage diet culture causes? 

I was playing with this diet culture because I remember when I was younger, it started in the 70s, there were these photographs about gaining weight. These double portraits with one slim one fat. I turned it around and made a portrait of one slim one fat, so I was playing with the important questions of daily life. Important questions which everybody and all these magazines were dealing with.

You are known for using humour to explore serious topics in your art. Do you think that people these days, particularly the younger generation, see using humour as a coping mechanism as part of their collective identity? If so how do you think that affects how they approach the creative sphere?

My humour comes from the idea of the absurd. I’m very influenced by the absurd like Beckett, Ionesco, and all the others. Also, the idea of paradox, looking from the paradox and the absurd angle to view our world and maybe see something else, something different. This is necessary because our world is fucked up, and in a very bad condition, and it gets worse and worse.

“I think we have to start making steps back and look at what we are doing.”

Where we have brought the world and how we will treat our world in the future. Absurdity helps me to clarify, to make the view clear in a way. And humour is a part of absurdity, yes. Sometimes humour is a good thing to use, but not always because I’m not a joke teller. I don’t want to become someone who is just telling jokes. I want to be taken seriously, even though sometimes I use humour as a certain method.

You often extend and alter reality in intriguing, humorous and disturbing ways. Do you think viewers connect with your work because there is a common desire for escapism in a post-capitalist society?

Maybe? But frankly, I never thought about this very seriously because I’m more intrigued by my work. I feed into my own work and my own universe. I try to get the best out of it and then I show it to the public and they discuss it. They love it or they hate it or whatever but I am more focused on my work and not so much the reaction of my work.

So you say you dive into your universe, how would you describe that?

I create certain issues in my work and certain quality criteria. I always try to get better and it’s getting worse and then it’s getting better and then not. So it’s a constant fight. It’s a daily fight with my work and the rules inside my work, the different components and the quality aspects that I’m fighting for. Sometimes it goes very easy and very smooth and sometimes it’s very edgy and complicated. Sometimes I don’t get to the point and I don’t even know where the point is. The point is disappearing and I have no idea what I’m doing. Then desperation is following and then it’s releasing again and it’s constant up and down. But I think every artist can give you this same answer. Because an artists life is not like you know what you are doing and you just do it. It’s full of doubts and shortcuts in a way. That makes it exciting, but also exhausting sometimes.

Do you have a specific way you approach your work, say from coming up with an idea to seeing it to fruition?

Yeah so when you work a lot, you get more and more ideas. I never run out of ideas, but it’s whether they are good or not. I write them down and make little notes and little drawings in little booklets. I look at them after a certain time and when I find something interesting I make a mark of it. Then I go on with it and I come back and forwards and backwards. In one moment I think “Oh that’s a good idea I could do something out of this”, and then I have to decide “What do I do?” Do I make a photograph, or a video, or a 3D sculpture, or a drawing, or a painting, or whatever? So that’s a second process and this lasts sometimes a long time, sometimes a year or more, and others times it goes very quick. It depends on my mood or my idea.

Your work deals with philosophy drawing inspiration from philosophers from the early twentieth century. Is there a philosopher or philosophy that stands out particularly when it comes to your work as a whole?

Well yes, because I’m Austrian there were always two guys who were very influential on me. One isn’t actually a philosopher but a psychologist, Sigmund Freud of course. The inventor of psychoanalysis, he’s Viennese.  The other is Liechtenstein, who was a linguist describing and trying to make order of the world through language. Just the opposite of Sigmund Freud which is very interesting too.

For other people, if you go back to Montaigne who was a philosopher from the Renaissance. By writing about the world, just by writing about himself and his family, and his needs and necessities, and his desires and his longings, that made him write about the world. It’s so interesting because that’s what artists are doing.

“When we make work about us, in a way we mean the world.”

When it’s functioning well, it’s accessible for many people. if it’s just a story about your grandmother nobodies interested, but if you’re able to lift up a story that is accessible to many people, then it’s interesting.

How do you find that then comes out in your work?

That’s a good question. How do I know? Sometimes I have the feeling it works well, and then not. It’s a constant doubt, yes. That’s the fight that I was talking about before.

What advice do you have for young creatives?

Oh my God, go on! Don’t believe anybody! Because so many people gave me advice and much of it was good but also much of it was not good. So be critical with what you hear and what drives you. Be critical with yourself, and be critical with the world, and try to make it better every single day, and don’t give up. Don’t give up, go on. People will tell you “Oh there are so many artists in the world we don’t need another one” or “You will never make a living out of this.” I heard this always. Just go on. Just trust yourself. You really want to do it then do it. If you have doubts then stop and try to have a better life somewhere else. And I mean having doubts in the general idea of becoming an artist, not having doubts about the work you are doing.

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

Oh, I have several shows coming up. I’m not able to go, but we made a show with augmented reality. They scan sculptures and then they transform them. You can go there and there is a QR code on the floor, and you see this sculpture pop up. Sometimes it’s very large and you can walk around them. I will be there on a flying carpet as an augmented reality also. It’s an experiment we did this recently and it was quite successful. In the fall I will do some other shows, so it’s going well, it’s going good! I have a lot to do, it’s very exciting. I’m looking forward to being able to have exhibitions and openings which I can go to.

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

Dita Pepe

“art brings us a different kind of knowledge”

Have you ever seen a strangers family portrait and wondered what their lives were like. Have you ever pondered what it would be like to be part of that family? Would you stand out or would you fit right in? Czech photographer Dita Pepe attempted to answer these questions with her series ‘Self Portraits with Men’. Posing as a wife, partner and mother she photographs herself with different men and often his children in each man’s typical real-life surroundings. Sometimes she includes her own daughter into the mix, but it is impossible to spot the interlopers in these seemingly genuine family portraits. In doing so she explores how personal identity can change dramatically in relation to the people in our lives and our own surroundings.

Identity, particularly female identity, is something that Pepe has always been fascinated by. After running away from home at the age of eighteen she went to work in Germany as an au pair and she states that at that age she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. “Unconsciously, I was still looking for female ideals to inspire me” Photography became a way for her to explore self-perception and she began taking self-portraits in various different disguises. NR Magazine joins the artist in conversation.

What does identity mean to you as an artist?

My interpretation of the word “identity” is based mainly on my age and experience related to it. The creative ability to think naturally has a big influence as well. The first thing which comes to my mind are words said by Z. Bauman – the greatest artist is someone who is able to adapt to the contemporary liquid society. Each of us has experienced the necessity to adapt to a change in the present situation connected with the pandemic.

Identity is thus something very subjective and unstable. I can identify with something or someone with my whole heart, however, it can change due to various circumstances soon afterwards. Surviving is the goal.

Your work involves exploring other possible identities, do you think the rise of social media allows people more freedom to explore their respective identities, or does it restrict them further?

Social networks are a tool and they can definitely help us in some ways. However, I would compare them to fire. We use it to cook food, it keeps us warm in winter, but it can also burn down our whole house.

There has been a lot of studies on the impact social networks have on our brain and changes in our behaviour.

On the other hand, social networks enable me to get to people I could not meet otherwise. Or maybe I could, but the way to a personal meeting with them would be too lengthy. Information from social networks is – just as photographs – misleading since the observers do not often know or see the things in context.

You consider your art practice as a form of therapy, but is all art not a form of therapy in one way or another?

Yes, of course, there are a lot of activities that could be described as therapeutical and do not even necessarily have to belong among artistic ones. However, art brings us a different kind of knowledge. Sometimes, we are even unable to describe some experiences and feelings with words. I have experienced personally how photographing people influenced me. At the very beginning, I photographed nothing but still lives, I was afraid to address a stranger. Then I started to take photos of my own self, and later I plucked up the courage to photograph my family and friends. And today, I am even not afraid to address a person I do not know at all and who is often also very hard to obtain for being photographed.

“Taking photos enabled me to get into worlds that are beyond the bounds of my life. I keep on finding something new for me. And I keep on being amazed.”

You seem to seamlessly inhabit the lives of other women in your work, do you think this highlights how women are taught by society to play different roles and thus possess the ability to slip from one role to another with apparent ease?

I think that men play different roles too. I am interested in discovering a variety of perspectives on life. I search for inspiration for myself, I would like to feel more peace inside me and to live in balance.

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

First of all,

“I realised that art is a luxury. It cannot be taken for granted and it is very fragile. I dedicated more time to the art of communication with my close ones.”

You worked with fear, nobody knew what would come. It was the very first time when we could experience such an intensive time with our families.

Online exhibitions, lectures and concerts were a kind of substitution but they can never substitute personal experiences.

Your work is often compared to Cindy Sherman’s, what other artists do you draw inspiration from?

Works by Diane Arbus, August Sander or Richard Avedon have always really spoken to me. I am happy when something touches me deeply. I feel that it resonates inside me a long time afterwards and also inspires me subconsciously. The latest thing that made a deep impression on me was a film from 2017 called On Body and Soul by the Hungarian director  Ildikó Enyedi.

You stated that you started these bodies of work as a way to figure out your own identity as a woman. Have you reached a conclusion about that?

Thanks to my work and people I met through photography, I am definitely more open to difference, and on my travels, I have also learnt about other cultures and views on identity. I am definitely more empathetic. And with age, I am also more aware of my own value.

What exactly do you want viewers to take away from your work?

While working, I mainly try to gain something for myself. Then I also want it to bring something to the people physically participating in the process of photographing. To be honest, I do not really and intentionally think about viewers. However, I think that my works speak to people who try to solve similar things in their lives as I do in mine.

So probably it should be food for thought…?

What advice do you have for young creatives looking to explore identity and photography?

I would advise them to engage in it if they see a meaning in it. To be open to other worlds, not only to photography. I believe that interdisciplinarity and overlap are important. Not to be discouraged when their dream photography school does not admit them because there are more ways to make photography be a part of your daily life.

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

Yes. It has become a rule that I work on more projects at the same time. To finish the book Borders of Love (Hranice lásky) is the priority for me now. It is an artistic experiment, in which I want to demonstrate that a creative process, which is mainly focused on dealing with trauma, has a therapeutical potential under certain conditions. I also dream of forming a community of students who would like to pursue deeply and on a long-term basis the topic of the therapeutical potential of photography.

Credits

Images · DITA PEPE
https://www.instagram.com/dita_pepe/

Christine Haroutounian

“I’ve always had a desire to go from the unreal to the real”

Founder of the production company Mankazar – a platform to explore independent cinema in Armenia and beyond, filmmaker Christine Haroutounian works between Southern California and Armenia. Her work explores transnational life, ancestral inheritance, and darker layers of humanity.

Attending an Armenian school in Los Angeles’s San Fernando Valley, Harourounian didn’t head down the filmmaking path immediately, as she was first an art school student, then a photographer. Her time studying for an MFA in Directing/Production from the UCLA School of Theater, Film & Television was when she produced both her shorts ‘Fixed Water’ and ‘World’. They have received Official Selection in International Film Festival Rotterdam, Ann Arbor Film Festival, Palm Springs International ShortFest, and more. Mankazar is currently in development with Haroutounian’s first feature film, set in post-Soviet Armenia.

Haroutounian’s first short ‘Fixed Water’ follows the lives of an older Armenian mother and daughter who are seemingly the same yet worlds apart, delving into a difficult family dynamic. Like her first short, Haroutounian’s second film ‘World’ also explores a mother–daughter relationship, this time with a sharp and impolite rendering of end-of-life caretaking. Each film uses different textural approaches to impressionistic slow cinema.

NR Magazine speaks with Haroutounian to gain deeper insights into the cultural ties in her work and her attitude towards the concept of identity in her filmmaking process.

What inspired you to start your production company Mankazar Film?

My directing style is deeply intertwined with the production process, so it was only logical to start a production company. Mankazar is a filmmaking platform for a new Armenian cinema that works independently to the commercial film industry.

You have an MFA in Directing/Production from the UCLA School of Theatre, Film & Television – what did you learn about yourself during this time? Can you pinpoint a specific moment where you started to really shape your creative vision?

I learned all the rules of filmmaking but ultimately, no school can teach you how to look. In order to move away from a story,

“I realised my whole life had to become a work of art, and that starts with observing.”

You’re currently developing your first feature film set in post-Soviet Armenia. What has this process been like?

It’s been a complete act of faith. Psychic, scary, and ecstatic.

The film is titled ‘After Dreaming’ and is described as an odyssey of selfhood, drawing on the mythologies of freedom, family, and motherland. How have these concepts shaped your identity as a filmmaker?  

I would say that it has shaped my identity as a filmmaker as throughout my life I’ve always had a desire to go from the unreal to the real.

What has resonated with you the most from working across Los Angeles and Armenia?

I feel spiritually vacant in Los Angeles and very aligned in Armenia. The latter is largely viewed as a corrupt place, where there is no stability or future but plenty of romanticism. I feel like people are deceived into thinking Los Angeles is somehow none of these things. It’s fascinating what stories and projections we choose to believe over others.

‘World’, your second short film, is a sharp and visceral take on end-of-life caretaking, and you’ve mentioned that it questions how one should behave as a caretaker and a daughter in the presence of fear and death. Are these things you’ve had to navigate in your own life? Does this presence of fear ever restrict your creative process?

The film is fiction, but I do grapple with fear and attachment because I love life very hard.

“If fear gets in the way of my creative process, it’s usually because my brain is asking the wrong questions.”

Your first short film ‘Fixed Water’ also explores a mother-daughter relationship and intergenerational tensions. Does the filmmaking process ever take on a cathartic role for you?

I don’t use filmmaking as a psychological exercise, but it is cathartic in that I focus large amounts of energy into something that doesn’t exist until it materialises the exact way I envision it.

What was it like growing up in Los Angeles’s San Fernando Valley?

I always felt that there had been some kind of terrible mistake for me growing up in Los Angeles.

What things help to develop your filmic voice?

Knowing in my heart that cinema is a gift.

You mentioned that Andrei Tarkovsky’s ‘The Mirror’ and Chen Kaige’s ‘Yellow Earth’ were among the films to make an early impact on you. Could you talk a bit about the specifics of these inspirations?

I am almost an amnesiac when it comes to films and mainly just remember the physical feeling I’m left with. I recall feeling crushed by the landscapes and weightless through the rhythm of time, and also how real the classical elements felt through such simplicity. I should probably rewatch these soon.

What would you say your ambitions as a filmmaker are?

Total freedom!

You’ve described your background as being of a very particular ancestral inheritance, and that being exposed to the darker layers of humanity from a very young age has made you very sensitive to the human condition. Could you talk a bit more about this?

To learn Armenian history and to look at the present, are in many ways a collision with the abject. I don’t have the option to unsee these crude existential realities, and some days, it engulfs everything I do. It’s a forced awareness of what people are capable of, for better or worse.

With the theme of this issue being Identity, I’d love to know your thoughts on how you feel you explore your own identity with your work.

I follow my intuition more than any intellectual concept, and I can’t work from a preconceived agenda. Even if I’m going through something or making work that is informed by my cultural ties, I never experience it as ‘identity’. Nobody processes life this directly. It’s inherent. Simply being is more specific and universal than any one identity.

Where do you see your practice heading? 

Making more films!

Credits

Images · CHRISTINE HAROUTOUNIAN
www.mankazar.com

Chiron Duong

“All things come from nothing and their presence in the present is a miracle of creation”

Magnetism towards nature, bodies, materials, and phenomena from their ancestry to their hazy, visual forms. When Vietnamese photographer and artist Chiron Duong narrates his artistry and where it springs from, he touches on the spiritualism and benevolence he finds in photography, fashion, and art, fusing the three to concoct a visual vision associated with the law of life. All images blurred, his model dances in a butterfly costume, his flowers tremble sideways, his water sloshes from gentle to rapid rapids, and his concepts of garments over bodies mean to flow, sway, and never settle.

The mantra from nothing to create a magical existence nestles within him for his fingers to capture through photography, his eyes to scrutinize via fashion, and his lips to speak of his art. As he points his lenses to his subject, whether it is a human body or nuance of nature, Chiron Duong communicates with his audience to convey stories that penetrate beyond the mere forms of objects, a display of the relationship between these tangible materials and the phenomena of nature and the universe that recalls science and magic.

Before diving deep into your practice, how did you end up in photography? What were your studies and sets of training before this?

Before practicing photography, I was a student of landscape architecture and urban planning in Vietnam. It was because I had practiced these two fields together that I sought to apply them to my study of photography and vice-versa. Landscape architecture and urban planning have helped me form my own perspective and find the direction that I will develop in the future towards photography.

Currently, I am focusing heavily on photography, but this is not my end goal. I hope my works can educate children and young generations about love and the natural environment through programs and visuals that combine arts and education.

There’s a sense of fashion and art in your photography. Would you say that you are combining photography with fashion and art, and why? How would you describe the relationship of these three, and why?

Photography, fashion, and art are my three favorite elements, and they have a clear relationship with each other. I have always wondered how I could turn my camera into a paintbrush and use fashion as palettes in my photographs. This is why I think about blurred boundaries when capturing the motions of the models. This will create the effect of a painting. Color also plays an important role along with the material of fashion designs as each material creates a different effect when I take pictures. Besides the three elements here, I am also experimenting with the educational elements as part of my mission to convey stories through my works.

In an interview, you mentioned that your mantra is “Chân không diệu hữu,”– “from nothing to create a magical existence.” What did you mean by this? How can you create magic from nothing?

“Chân không diệu hữu,”– “from nothing to create a magical existence.” This is a saying in Buddhism. It carries the meaning of the creation of all things. The good and the bad that are present before our eyes can be an illusion and a challenge to our minds. All things come from nothing and their presence in the present is a miracle of creation and from the universe. I have applied this saying to my works.

“I want to tell stories that go beyond the mere form of an object, thereby showing the relation of that object to a phenomenon in nature and to the universe that recalls miracles and magic.”

My Reply I, II photos see the fantastical stories the plants tell us about their former existence.

Speaking of magic, your photographs are just ethereal and whimsical. What’s your creative process? How do you achieve these blurred images?

The process of doing these works as a way of meditation is that I observe things and find out their characteristic properties in terms of shape, color, inside and out, thereby looking for the connection between these objects and natural phenomena, people, animals, and society. From there, the objects in my photo will have stories out of their basic shape. This is a miracle.

Sometimes, I will use a low-speed shutter to capture movement, but sometimes I use light effects to create a sense of flight. I also apply special effects such as shooting in different environments like water and fire. This means the imagery is not limited to the form of expression but is important to the sense of magic my works create.

There’s a sense of soft power and fluidity in your photographs. What would you say your themes are in photography, and why? Do you have any advocacy that you would love to showcase through images?

The two big themes in my works are Flaming Asian and The ConnectionsFlaming Asian to me has many meanings not only in color but also in cultural, spiritual, dreamy, and soft aspects. These are the themes to show the origin of my love for fashion, photography, and painting. On the other hand, The Connection is a big topic in both still-life and fine art photography. In this topic, I seek to connect objects with nature on environmental and social issues, while infusing morality in their messages.

Talking about the blurriness in the images, there must be some movement for this to happen. What’s your opinion about movement? How essential is it for you?

I always consider the blur in the photos to ensure a balance between emotion and technique when I photograph. I do not want this blur effect to be just a visual effect that impresses the viewer without conveying the message of the photo. With movement, it becomes more effective when combined with the color and texture of the garment. Most importantly, I want to create a special space to tell my personal story through my works.

In an interview, you mentioned that you “intend to show the energy that comes from within our bodies, the mystical spirit.” Could you elaborate on this?

It is a form, a state beyond the present shape of the object.

“When I desire to express a feeling of energy from within myself, thoughts, conflicts, and movement, forms take place within the mind and body that we cannot see with our eyes.”

I want to recall those feelings as I feel the energy within me move. Usually, I will use motion capture techniques with appropriate props or photographs to create a shift in the viewer’s point of view and evoke the content I want to show.

In terms of personal philosophy, what are the beliefs that you practice that influence your photography? Could you share how these started?

I think personal perspective and direction are very important, which can affect your photography style. In my case, I have had time to try out many different types of photography including commercial, architecture, still life, and street. I find my favorite features from these genres and include them in my photography. Most importantly, I am exposed to different fields to understand what issues I care about, and how I want to present my perspective. For example, I often ask myself what I love, and what I want for society and my community. I often look back on my own origins and development to understand why I care about those issues in photography. For me, your culture and community from childhood to adulthood and your social background will greatly influence your thinking in choosing the path you want to take and creating your identity in photography.

Credits

Images · CHIRON DUONG
https://www.instagram.com/chironduong/

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

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