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Tag: Identity

Naomi Gilon

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 262

Feature · Naomi Gilon
Words · Izzy Bilkus

“It flows, it bubbles, it can be matte, shiny, satin – it’s great”

Multidisciplinary artist Naomi Gilon has a rich history of experimentation that encompasses a wide range of methods and materials. The Brussels based artist combines beauty with the macabre in a strong effort to break away from the restrains of the art world’s expectations.

Gilon’s ceramic work has a life of its own. Consisting of a series of sculpted bags with claw handles, vases with long witchy fingers and high heels with mangled toenails, her pieces challenge our perception of the medium. Drawing on a wellspring of inspiration from pop culture, fashion, gore, and mythology, Gilon explores the aesthetic and psychological potential in everyday objects and breathes new life into them through her process of metamorphosis.

Gilon embraces the fiendish and the unconventional in her practice and crafts her pieces with a glaring sense of beauty. Her ability to transform everyday items into otherworldly hybrids subvert our attachments and relationships to the objects, forcing us to sit with and question our sense of discomfort and ultimately, our sense of being.

NR Magazine speaks with the artist to find out what makes up the weird world of Naomi Gilon, and what her monstrous creations can reveal about us all.

Does the desire for experimentation with your work stem from anywhere? Do you channel this into other aspects of your life?  

It’s my way of expressing what I think. I have always been a shy child who listened to the needs of others. It’s not easy to extricate yourself from this behaviour when you become an adult. It’s both a work on myself and on others. I try to have a sociological point of view with my work. It’s a reciprocal exchange between my art and me; I bring reflections to my work through my reading for example, and conversely my works teach me a lot about life and myself. So, this desire to create and to experiment is simply a desire to live. I also channel this energy through botany. I like to see the evolution of plants.

Your practice has evolved a lot over the past few years – you’ve created installations with found objects and explored the tuning industry, whereas now, your practice has moved towards ceramics and crafting objects from scratch. Can you talk about this development?

It’s true that the discovery of ceramics was a revelation for me. Before that I worked mainly from assembly methods, textiles, car body parts, stickers, etc. The hybridization process was already present. As a self-taught ceramicist I’m able to not be in a system of appropriation of forms, but creations. I have almost total control over the objects I create.

Also, my subjects contrast to the ceramic material: fragility and violence, the sublime and the monstrous. I like it a lot because we are looking for confrontation. Beyond that, my thinking remains the same, over time I’ve just deepened it. It draws its source from popular culture. It’s a very large and constantly evolving subject.

Is constant artistic evolution important to you? 

Yes of course, it’s linked to our personal development. As I mentioned before with experimentation, the evolution of our work is needed to live.

You’ve exhibited your work in lots of places in Europe. What is most important to you when displaying and showcasing your pieces?

What is most important to me is sharing a story, first and foremost a fantastic story and something that makes you dream. We try to widen the boundaries of the mind and share it with as many people as possible.

I also realise that my works have their own existence. Once out of my imagination, they travel without me. We see them for what they are, and I become secondary, as sometimes I answer questions for interviews. What I mean is that my works don’t need my words to create a discussion with the person who encounters them.

Throughout the development of your practice, I’ve noticed that your sculpted claws have remained present in most of your pieces and have become a sort of key signifier for your work. Could you talk a bit about this recurrent motif? What is the narrative behind it?

The claws appeared to me through the imagery of car tuning – the beast under the hood, the roar of the engine, etc. Then at the same time I discovered the book ‘Crash’ by J. G. Ballard, the film ‘Christine’ by John Carpenter, and the film ‘Titanium’ by director Julia Ducournau.

Following this car-related imagery, I plunged into the world of gore and horror films. They’re an inexhaustible source for questioning the identity of a monster. I also turned to mythology, folktales, Nordic stories, etc, as well as representations of the figure of the monster in paintings through the centuries. It’s a timeless fascination.

“I consider my hybrid ceramic objects as the chimeras of our humanity. It’s the sublimation of the horror in our lives.”

Your work, and your recent ceramic pieces in particular draw on aspects of horror, gore, fashion, and pop culture. What are your specific influences and what intrigues you most about these things? Have they always been of interest to you? 

The human hybrid has fascinated me since I was little. I’ve never been a big fan of monsters before; it was through my painting studies at ENSAV La Cambre in Brussels that I explored these interests.

I’m influenced by the cartoonist Emil Ferris, the authors Aldous Huxley, René Barjavel, Philip K. Dick, George Orwell and the authors of the Nouveau Roman like Alain Robbe-Grillet. Also, directors like Ridley Scott for Blade Runner 1982 (my favourite film), Dario Argento for Suspiria in 1977, Rosemary’s Baby, David Cronenberg and Videodrome…. the list goes on and on.

The image of the monster can take different forms, it adapts to the times and that is what fascinates me. It’s always a reflection of society.

What is it like living as a creative in Brussels? Has Belgian culture influenced your work at all? 

Living in a large multicultural city is very rewarding, and Brussels has lots of great qualities. The arts scene is important, but I don’t draw inspiration from it directly. Everyone is obviously hugely influenced by the internet. Subliminally my influences are global.

But still, I love the work of Aline Bouvy and Xavier Mary – they marked my debut in the art world.

What was your aim when creating your online shop?

To break the notion of art acquisition. During my studies we were told that walking into an art gallery is like walking into a store. I never found it easy, and I think most art spaces want to keep that aspect of privilege. By creating an online shop, I feel like I’m breaking away from these principles. People who enjoy my work can acquire it as easily as going to collect bread in a bakery. We buy unique things in an almost banal way. And the direct creator-to-buyer relationship is easier than having one or two intermediaries, but I do enjoy collaborations and discovering new networks of people, I think that’s really important.

The form and texture of your pieces have always been interesting to me. What’s your approach to working with different materials, and are there specific materials you enjoy working with the most? 

I really like materials that imitate others, like faux fur textiles or mock snakeskin, or materials that drip, or spread like a disease. I love studying the set design and makeup of 1920s gore films.

I also love having my hands in clay. It feels like a real connection to the earth. My favourite part is the last step; that of enamelling. There’re always surprises. The colours are always unique and have an almost captivating depth. It flows, it bubbles, it can be matte, shiny, satin – it’s great.

What have you been finding inspiration from at the moment?

My creations of monstrous shoes were inspired by the exhibition ‘MARCHE ET DÉMARCHE’, at MAD in Paris in 2019. My interest in the historical journey of objects emerged from this exhibition. This is a process that is now part of my thinking and methodology. My new bag series is also based on a nod to the past; it’s an object with great history and connotations, that never ceases to evolve, like a living being.

You’ve mentioned that with your work you try to put societal fears and desires into narratives, words, and images. Why is this important for you, and has this always been a focus of yours?

It’s a way of making memory appear physical, and to create memories of objects. When I started out as an artist, the term ‘connotation’ was a big part of my way of thinking. The spare parts of cars whose sheets were crumpled, bent, and scratched were the vestiges of a moment in time and of an emotion.

The concept of time is very important to me because it moves so fast and takes with it the things that have forged us like words, objects, smells and people. When I make a piece of ceramic, it’s a product of all the thoughts that I have during that moment that permeate the clay. I’m a very nostalgic person and I must highlight all those moments that will eventually disappear. I think that’s a big fear of mine – my ‘monster’.

What is your usual process for creating hybridisations and distortions of objects?

It’s not a process, it’s just an automatism. Bringing everyday things to life that we no longer pay attention to.

“Everything is important and nothing is trivial. I don’t have a specific method.”

You work a lot with commonplace objects. What interests you about working with them? You describe your work as ‘unique and precious banalities’, so it’s clear that you see a lot of creative and critical potential within these objects.

It’s like listening to the radio every day and hearing the number of people who have died from Covid, migratory accidents, wars and attacks; it hits us for a few seconds and then we continue with our daily life. Like the words of Hannah Arendt, its ‘the banality of evil.’ This might be a bad example, but humans make everything that doesn’t directly impact them uninteresting and unimportant. I’m not interested in the individualistic human.

I like the idea of asserting individuality and sharing it. I want to banish the idea of normality. Recognising its privileged position is the first step in thinking about things differently.

What is left on the day you die? The image of us, but it is not eternal. Objects into which we’ll have slipped a few words of love, the words on the back of a postcard, or a compilation of music that we have probably listened to hundreds of times. Life is abstract and complex, so you we should go beyond it and make the mundane things unique and precious.

What things outside of your practice do you feel are ‘unique and precious’?

The people we love and the mysterious things that bind us to them. I’m a lonely person (besides being nostalgic), but I love being around the people I love and listening to them talk. I love to read and taking the time to do nothing.

With the theme of this issue being Identity, I thought it would be interesting to hear your thoughts on how you explore your own identity through your work.

My artistic approach is mixed with my personal matters, it forms a hybrid. The evolution of my works reflects my own determination and of the way in which, little by little, I come into alignment with who I am. We must establish a harmonious cohabitation between our inner and outer being, between the angel and the demon. We should learn from our mistakes and accept that we will make them. The monstrous hand kind of symbolises this oscillation between the two sides of our identity.

Many aspects of your work revolve around monstrous forms. Could you talk a bit about how you explore the concept of the body?

I see the body as a hybrid object, something organic that evolves and distributes energy, both positive and negative.

Like J-M Gustave Le Clézio said, we’re contained in a sack of skin. I find once again that it’s something incredible yet minimised. Moving your body, feeding it, making it work properly is a wonderful thing and full of mystery.

I really like the vegetable head portraits of the painter Giuseppe Arcimboldo because he presents us with a vision that goes beyond our human limits, and which reminds us of the fact that we can be anything. We’re not that different to vegetables and we too will rot one day.

I’m also influenced by the chaotic landscapes of Jérôme Bosch, where we can see the energy of living and the beauty of heterogeneity.

Where do you see your practice heading? What can we expect from you in the future?

I’m working on many new projects. Hopefully I can still work collaboratively in the world of styling. I also want to explore new materials alongside ceramics. I have a solo show at the end of October in Brussels and joint show at the end of November in Amsterdam.

Credits

Images · NAOMI GILON
Interview · IZZY BILKUS
Discover Naomi Gilon’s work here www.naomigilon.com

Max Siedentopf

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 324

Feature · Max Siedentopf
Words · Nicola Barrett

“Turns out, there’s actually a lot you can do while taking your serious passport photo”

Somewhere in the golden sands of the oldest desert in the world, the Namib stands a circle of white plinths. On them sit speakers, playing Africa’s Toto for, well, eternity. Or at least that’s what Namibian-German artist Max Siedentopf tell us, the location of this artwork is undisclosed and, as no one has yet to find it, it’s rather hard to verify if it’s actually still blasting “We bless the rains down in Africa” into the wilderness.

This tongue in cheek in cheek approach is seen throughout much of Siedentopf’s work, his guerrilla art installation which involved binoculars tied to the railings of the viewing terrace at the Tate Modern allowed visitors to zoom into Roger Stirk Harbour + Partner’s Neo Bankside housing across from the gallery. It was a response to the residents of Neo Bankside taking the Tate to court as they claim the viewing gallery “unreasonably interferes with their use of their flats.” Siedentopf pointed out that the “Please respect our neighbour’s privacy” the Tate put up seems like a sign for an art exhibit and pointed out the irony of having huge windows that no one is ‘allowed’ to look into.

More recently he has created works about the pandemic, including a series of mask alternatives like bras, lettuce leaves and shoes, (which was met with some controversy as he created the series early in the pandemic), and an online series titled Home Alone – A Survival Guide which depicted a series of challenges for those bored at home during the lockdown. NR Magazine joins the artist in conversation.

What does Identity mean to you as an artist? 

That changes every time I look in the mirror.

You are known for your guerrilla artworks, examples being Please Respect Our Neighbour’s Privacy at the Tate and Slapdash Supercars, and in addition to these, you also created artworks while stuck at home during lockdown. Do you think, as we become more digital, artists are moving away from the need for gallery backing or even gallery spaces to build their reputation? 

Yes, of course, there are so many new and incredible ways today for artists to show and capitalise on their work that the gallery system isn’t the only way an artist needs to go today. With the click of a button, artists can show their work to a global audience and the success of your work is a lot more determined by the actual quality of the work and less by the gatekeepers of the gallery world.

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? 

I think humour often helps tackle serious subjects in a more digestible way for a wider public;

“I’m sure when the world will finally end the last artwork will be a funny meme about how the world is ending.”

However even there is a strong increase in art using humour as a coping mechanism, at the same time art has also become more serious than ever and there is much stronger pressure to make “politically correct art” which sucks out most of the fun – it’s like pleasing a big committee, in the end, no one hates it, but no one is super happy about it either.

Your work Toto Forever, in which Africa by Toto is played in the Namib Desert on a constant loop, gained quite a lot of attention, but you have never disclosed the exact location. Has anyone ever been able to find it and do you know if it’s still playing? 

Good question, I guess you will need to find it, to find out.

I’m curious, has anyone ever questioned the validity of Toto Forever? It reminds me somewhat of the moon landing conspiracy theories, and as there is no exact location for people to visit I wonder if anyone has asked you if it’s fake? 

Wait, the moon landing wasn’t real?

Passport photos play such a huge part in our ‘official’ government recognised identity, but in reality, they show very little of us. How did you come up with the idea for this project? 

The series came about when I had to take a new passport photo. I thought to myself that being a passport photographer must be one of the most depressing things a photographer could do as there are so many rules. Your head needs to be straight, nothing may cover your face, you’re not allowed to smile and you need to have a plain white background. I wanted to challenge all these rules and find a way that you could still express yourself even under such heavy restrictions. Turns out, there’s actually a lot you can do while taking your serious passport photo.

Do you think in the future, technology will change how we are identified? 

Of course – on the plus side I think it will make a lot of processes a whole lot easier, from how we travel, check-in or pay, however as with every technology that makes our lives easier we will need to give something in return, in this case, a piece of our anonymity and personal freedom.

Your project Home Alone – A Survival Guide was popular on social media and many people joined in the challenges you set. Now people are struggling with going back to normality as restrictions are being eased. Would you ever consider doing a second project, a survival guide for the outside as it were? 

I didn’t think about it until this question but I could imagine it could be a good series – as life slowly goes back to “normality”  I think there are a lot of factors that should be readjusted to a new way of living.

“I strongly believe we shouldn’t just chase the reality we had before the pandemic, which in many ways feels quite reckless (and got us into this mess in the first place) and instead focus on new, more responsible ways of living our day-to-day life.”

A step-by-step survival guide could be a good start.

Your project How To Survive A Deadly virus was met with some controversy, do you think if you had made it a year later people’s reactions would have been different?

Yes definitely and since the series came out I’ve seen hundreds of artist impressions similar to the series. However the series came out the beginning of February 2021, a time when most people in Europe were still very naive towards what was going on and didn’t anticipate it would ever affect their own lives – the series was a classic example of “too soon” and it was too early to talk about such a serious subject with humour. However, a few months later the series was received very differently when people started to accept the new reality and were able to joke about it.

What advice do you have for young creatives?

Eat your vegetables, exercise, spend quality time with your family, make work that brings you joy and most importantly don’t overthink too much, in the end, nothing really matters anyway.

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

Always – however the only certain plan for the future is to eventually end up in a coffin.

Credits

Images · MAX SIEDENTOPF
www.maxsiedentopf.com/

Mathias Schmitt

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 226

Feature · Mathias Schmitt
Words · Izzy Bilkus

“A photograph says more about you than the objects you capture”

Taking us on a trip through the streets of Detroit, winding through the urban landscape in a Dodge Polara, passing old cafés and nightclubs – Mathias Schmitt tells a refreshing story of inner-city culture with his photography. Looking at his work as a whole, it presents itself as a cinematic mapping of an urban daydream. Capturing candid exchanges with locals and shedding light on the overlooked nooks and crannies of public spaces, Schmitt’s eye is unwavering, and never fails to channel the energy of the places he immerses himself in.

Inspired by the vibrancy and diversity of different subcultures, DIY aesthetics, music, fashion and photography icons such as Wolfgang Tillmans and Jürgen Teller, Schmitt’s work has a youthful spirit and reveals a strong love and appreciation for photography’s social potential and as a medium itself.

Finding inspiration and comfort in the everyday occurrences of city life and fuelled by a sense of inner freedom, Schmitt navigates urban photography with ease, constantly developing a sense of personal awareness.

NR Magazine speaks with the photographer to discuss how city life and the concept of identity has shaped his creative outlook.

You mentioned that Wolfgang Tillman’s book ‘Burg’ was a huge influence for you and your photography. Could you talk a bit more about that? What about this style of photography impacted you the most?

‘Burg’ hit me in 1998 when I was 20. Exploring different subcultures and aesthetics, this book presented me with a completely new world – it felt like a revelation. I didn’t know anything about cultural history, photo-technique or photography and its culture. While I was lightyears away from a full understanding, what affected me most was this certain kind of view, the glimpses, the candid faces, the natural collection of people, moments, and situations. I fell in love with this idea of being able to create images where I could share something with people who feel the same as I do, so I decided to become a photographer instead of continuing my plan of becoming a social worker.

Are there any other aspects of German culture that have influenced your work? And what was the photography scene like when you were growing up in Germany?

I don’t think German culture has specifically influenced me, but subcultures have always fascinated me. I liked the idea of being a part of something, of identifying with something separate from the mainstream. MTV was an issue back then, and magazines like Spex, Jetzt and Musikexpress drove me nuts with their photography. Kira Bunse, Sandra Stein, Wolfgang Tillmans and Jürgen Teller were people that I looked up to as well.

Some of your work shows an affinity for the city of Detroit. What other places do you draw inspiration from?

I can get inspiration from anywhere – a conversation, a person crossing the street, a train ride or just the desire to have a coffee at a specific place.

There’s so much joy in being able to travel to different places.

“An open and curious mind can bring you everything, even without asking for anything.”

Your work explores different aspects of urban life, capturing distinctive flashes of cities and their inhabitants. Are intimate moments or personal connections something you try to capture with your work?

Personal connections can be found in all sorts of things, like music, culture, fashion and food. I’m a huge fan of explorations – those distinctive flashes of cities and their inhabitants, of moments and their participants. Being in someone’s company with or without a camera can be a great gift. Sometimes you don’t know anything about the person in front of you, but it can also feel in some way very intimate when you’re both aware of that situation. I wouldn’t say that I aim to capture intimacy, but it is a very important aspect of taking a portrait.

You have a great interest in cars as well – where does this come from?

I like cars that have something to say. The presentation of a silhouette from a 1973 Dodge Polara or a 1969 Buick GS is fascinating to me. Imagining having a nice car trip for me, feels like a mental holiday.

How do you see yourself as the artist behind the lens? Do you try to influence your shots at all or is it more a case of it being a relaxed and natural process?

It is extremely important for me to be aware of when I can intervene and when I need to take a step back. Some pictures are accompanied by a certain casualness that is deliberate, rather than being something that happens by chance and from inexperience. Of course, I influence the frame, lighting, and shutter speed, but I’m a huge fan of sincerity. I’m not interested in phony smiles.

What aspects and aesthetics of city life stand out the most to you? 

Being able to find everything you can imagine behind every corner, finding joy in privacy with strangers when you’re in public places, sitting alone in a café for 8 hours in a city you’ve never been to. Meeting people with different visions, different stories, finding places of joy – that’s exciting to me. I think these are the fascinating aspects of city life.

Has growing up in the countryside affected your attitude towards cities and more urbanised areas? Cities have a different kind of energy and vibrancy to them, but do you feel a particular connection with the rural landscape?

“Growing up in the countryside sharpened my senses for my surroundings.”

The isolation protected me from unwanted influences. Traveling from the countryside to bigger cities always brought about a sense of romance. I’ve always been thankful to come back to a calm place where I can separate my thoughts from what’s unwanted to what’s needed.

Do you find photography brings you a sense of identity and autonomy – particularly when visiting cities?

Identity is shaped by emotions, and photography gives me the opportunity to share these emotions. A photograph says more about you than the objects you capture. When I realised this, I fell in love with that approach, and I freed myself from all competition. I don’t expect everybody to understand or to engage with my work.

When I decided to become a photographer, I wasn’t aware of all the power it has as a medium, but I felt an immense freedom. The people I’ve met abroad and the situations I’ve been in with them has given me a sense of personal awareness.

Your series ‘Mittelkonsolen’ was inspired by the work of Hans Peter Feldmann and has references to the era of cassettes and CDs. You’ve also mentioned that reading music and skate magazines as a teenager had a big impact on you. Do you often try to channel a sense of nostalgia in your work? What is it that appeals to you about those times?  

I think that using an analogue camera requires concentration, both for myself and for the participant. I’m a fan of the concept of nostalgia but I don’t particularly try to reference that in my work. We’re in a time of great technical development, but that’s not always enough. Everything must be faster, cheaper, easier – we want everything, and we want it now, no matter what.

‘Mittelkonsolen’ is an ode to a certain state of mind. The fact that you have to think about travelling and your choice of music, the atmosphere of your trip and its limitations – all that appears to me as something very logical and beautiful.

Have you discovered anything about yourself through your photography?

Separate from my images, I noticed a certain reservation in my work. I stopped caring about the specifics of how my work might be seen by others. Inner freedom is very important to me, and photography helps me channel that throughout my life.

Are there any aspects of your own life that you aim to interrogate through your photographs?

Besides photography, music plays a really important role in my life. Both mediums have almost no boundaries and provide me with a kind of shelter, allowing me to express and to address myself. Identity can be both fragile and strong, and I think the same applies to photography.

Credits

www.mathiasschmitt.com
Images · MATHIAS SCHMITT

Kayra Atasoy

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 218

Feature · Kayra Atasoy
Words · Izzy Bilkus

“if I don’t experience and understand the moment I’m capturing, I can’t capture it properly”

Dissatisfied with Turkish society’s attitude towards the country’s contemporary youth culture, photographer Kayra Atasoy captures the power and momentum of techno and rave culture in her project ‘Blame the Youth’ and uses the medium of photography as an outlet to explore and express aspects of her own identity. The ongoing project is inspired by the autonomy of the Berlin rave scene – a subculture that Atasoy resonates strongly with. Atasoy captures candid moments of these subcultures in her own country, that reflect the honesty and sense of freedom that she values most about these underground collectives.

‘Blame the Youth’ not only reflects the angst of the photographer, but also serves as a kind of visual manifesto for Turkey’s emergent youth culture, who Atasoy claims is simultaneously overlooked and criticized by the country’s older generation. The series features the influence of rave culture from overseas and how social spaces have been reshaped during the Coronavirus pandemic.

In the early hours of the morning, when time is irrelevant and all limitations disappear, Atasoy observes everyone’s true selves. It is in these magical moments that she is able to investigate her own identity through the lens.

NR Magazine speaks with Atasoy to learn more about the inspiration behind the project and what it is like being part of the subcultures she documents.

What initially attracted you to photography as an artistic medium?

For me, photography is a profession that offers immense excitement to my life.

A camera provides me with all the power of capturing, interpreting, and reflecting my point of view of a single moment, which is an amazing feeling. My way of truly living and experiencing life is through observing. Regardless of the topic, I always feel the strong urge to observe and watch. This is one of the main reasons I chose photography as an artistic medium. I love to observe life, and I love reflecting on the way I perceive it. Photography is my way of communicating my own perspective.

What’s been the biggest lesson learned from creating your series ‘Blame the Youth’? Have you discovered anything about yourself in the process?

One of the main things I learned was how various aspects of my life such as my environment and my mental health affect my work directly, and how this happens without me even realising it. One of the biggest takeaways I got from ‘Blame the Youth’ was that it helped me to fully understand what I want to do with my life.

Could you talk a bit about how you feel Turkish society blames the youth?

Unfortunately, I think we are a minority in Turkey. I believe the ‘youth’ that has been blamed by society is representing a minority. This isn’t something I’m always reminded of, as I’m always surrounded by this ‘minority’. Our struggles, our ways of having fun and creating aren’t understood by the rest of Turkish society. I think ‘Blame the Youth’ is a unique resource. It doesn’t matter where I take my photos; I could take photos for this project in Turkey, Germany, Spain, etc. The places where I feel this sense of ‘blame’ changes of course. I’m not a professional – I’m still trying and learning. Most of the support I get for my work is from abroad. This is obviously really motivating, but at the same time, not getting the same support from my own country is a bit upsetting. Even though I’ve got appreciation and encouragement from the people around me, my work doesn’t get the overall support I hoped for from my country. ‘Blame the Youth’ is a project where the name and the photos both contradict and complement each other. I believe that this juxtaposition reflects the current attitudes towards Turkish youth culture within our society. In Turkey, people are used to being judged and blamed. We don’t feel safe the second we stray from our circles. We learn to live by the rules, limits, and judgemental looks. I think my work documents all the moments where society feels it has the right to judge us. It’s not only about the parties, alcohol, and drugs – it’s also about the way we dress and the way we choose to live. As I continued to travel and explore, I realised that the way I choose to live makes it hard to live peacefully in Turkey. As I’ve mentioned before,

“I’m not the best with words, so even though I can’t stand up to this problem verbally, I try to communicate my principles visually through my photography.”

Do you set out with an aim in mind for shooting, or is it more a case of enjoying the freedom of the moment? I imagine it makes more sense to go with the flow and to fully immerse yourself in the moment when photographing techno and rave culture. And is living in the moment important to you?

I’d say yes, as the foundation of my photos is rooted in being in the moment. I am always looking for ‘the moment’. Observing and capturing spontaneous moments gives me much more joy and excitement compared to setting up a shoot. It might seem like I’m missing out on the moment while trying to photograph it, but this is my way of experiencing that moment. I have a strong desire to show my interpretations of things. When I take photos for ‘Blame the Youth’, I don’t just stand back and observe – I experience the same moment with the people I photograph, and I think this has a great influence on that desire. I strongly believe that if I don’t experience and understand the moment I’m capturing, I can’t capture it properly.

“Even though it might seem like I’m just a bystander, I see myself as the main character living in that specific moment.”

Are there any particular aspects of the techno and rave scene that influence you the most?

The first time I experienced techno music was in Berlin. It was the first time I was introduced to this music culture, and it had an immense impact on me. After that, I started reading, researching, and listening to it more. After scratching the surface, I discovered that these rave scenes have so many levels to them. The rise of techno music after the fall of the Berlin Wall, empty factories were being taken over to host illegal raves and there was a lot of rebellion amongst the people who were separated by the wall – this affected me deeply. I realised how the rebellious nature of techno music correlates with Berlin’s history. Just like ‘Blame the Youth’, I also realized how these things are rooted in a specific frame of mind, and not solely about partying. This led me to give more thought and understanding towards the meaning of music and I began to watch people even closer. Even though techno and rave scenes don’t have the same history in Turkey, I wanted it to reflect the rebellion and suppression within itself.

How has your work been received in Turkey? Do you find your way of working to be controversial or rebellious?

As I mentioned before, my photographs haven’t received a lot of recognition in my country. Even though I took those photos in Turkey, I felt more understood by other countries. This is quite an upsetting situation, as I believe my work honestly reflects Turkey’s reality. To put it another way, despite Turkey’s prejudice and ignorance, we are here, and we will always be here. Our struggle isn’t built on our desire to be completely accepted. We just want to live freely and not feel any guilt or shame about it. I want to do my job freely and have fun doing so. For those reasons, I consider my work to be both controversial and rebellious.

“It’s a struggle to just live and to make ourselves seen.”

Do any aspects of your own life influence your work?

My life and the photos I take are pretty much integrated, and I love that. I’m a part of the culture that I try to photograph. When I’m photographing, I capture myself in some of the shots. I won’t work on ‘Blame the Youth’ forever, so I like to experiment with different ideas, and will continue to do so. I think ‘Blame the Youth’ will represent a culture and an era that will live on forever. I want to reflect on life the way I experience it. I don’t want to share a moment if I haven’t experienced it.

There is a story and a continuation of subjects in my work. The people I photograph are a part of my life, so I’m able to shoot them in a rave scene, and also capture them at home in a completely different atmosphere.

You’ve mentioned that Berlin is a big inspiration for your work, and how you felt a different sense of freedom there compared to being in Turkey. Could you talk a bit more about that?

In Turkey, it is hard to live as a woman, and it is even harder to stand on your own as a female artist. When I was in Berlin, I felt safer, and I had the chance to observe different subcultures. The government-supported techno parties are incredible. I think that was the reason I always considered Berlin to be my inspiration. I bought plane tickets to Berlin when I first got the chance. I stayed there by myself and got an incredible opportunity to observe. Every time I came back to Turkey, I just felt increasingly restricted. One of the biggest reasons for this was feeling judged – another core aspect of ‘Blame the Youth’. We were always told that we were doing something wrong.

“Being able to confidently say ‘I’m a photographer’ isn’t an easy thing to do in Turkey. That’s why I don’t feel like I truly belong in my country.”

How has the pandemic affected youth culture in Turkey? Have you found it a struggle to stay creative and inspired?

Two years ago, just when I started to recognise my career growth, the pandemic hit. Around that time, ‘Blame the Youth’ was getting recognition not just from Turkey, but around the world. When we were quarantined at home, it was a real struggle to find motivation. I forced myself to be motivated for a couple of months, and I realised that the potential of ‘Blame the Youth’ extended beyond the streets, clubs, and parties. The people I photographed were still the same, and so they would continue to be a part of this culture regardless of time and place. During the lockdown, I began to photograph moments of distress that we all felt. Throughout this period, I tried some work, but despite how much I tried, I found that I was always better at capturing an instantaneous moment. Even though I was working on editorials, I was only fully satisfied with these instantaneous little moments I captured. The lockdown provided us with a break to be introspective I turned my camera away from the chaos around me, and focussed on fewer interactions, fewer people, but still the same audience.

You’ve discussed capturing ‘magical moments’ – what do these moments look and feel like to you?

‘Magical moments’ are the moments where people are being their true and spontaneous selves. They are when I capture people dancing without the fear of being judged or watched. The photos I take are divided into two groups: the people who know that my camera is on them, and the people who don’t. When people are aware that they are being photographed, it disturbs the truth and the spontaneity of the moment. When people aren’t aware of the camera, I’m able to shoot pure moments that I define as being ‘magical’.

What are your favourite moments to photograph?

Probably the moments I capture without overthinking – they end up being the best possible moments. When I’m out there with my camera I’m always in a rush: observing, running, dancing – there’s only an instant between observing and shooting. I usually realise later that I pressed the shutter button at the perfect time, to capture a moment that I wouldn’t have been able to capture if I pressed the button even a second earlier. These are the shots that turn out to be the most satisfying ones. These are the shots where the subject is completely in their element, unaware they are part of this perfect moment. I always want to capture reality, but from my perspective.

What do you have planned for your work in the future?

After graduation, I would love to create a path that enables me to travel more and experience different cultures. I will be spending this winter in an analogue studio’s darkroom in Budapest for an internship. I’ve also received exhibition offers from London. If everything goes according to plan, I will spend around two weeks in London for this. I want to create deeper levels of meaning with ‘Blame the Youth’, whilst also observing new cultures and new people. I will eventually head back to Turkey, but for a while, I just want to travel and shoot. I want to be able to make a living through my photography. I can’t picture myself doing anything else.

Credits

Discover Kayra Atasoy’s work here www.kayraatasoy.com
Images KAYRA ATASOY

Jessamyn Lovell

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 168

Feature · Jessamyn Lovell
Words · Nicola Barrett

“we can find power in the choice to engage in public sousveillance (surveillance of ourselves) but it also gives power away”

A wallet is stolen from a gallery in San Fransisco, just over a year later a woman receives a summons to appear in court for a petty crime she did not commit. It sounds like the beginning of a movie but for artist Jessamyn Lovell it was reality. She learned that her identity had been stolen by a woman named Erin Hart, who had been using her name to check into hotels, hire cars and to shoplift. As a way to help deal with the trauma of the situation, Lovell began the Dear Erin Hart project where she documented the process of tracking down and surveilling the woman who had stolen her identity.

Unable to find Erin Hart on her own Lovell hired a private detective and soon discovered that Hart was already in jail for a previous misdemeanour. However, upon Hart’s release Lovell and the P.I she had hired followed Hart around the city, photographing her. Lovell decided against contacting Hart directly and instead wrote the other woman a letter explaining the project to her. No reply was ever received. While Dear Erin Hart is perhaps Lovell’s most known work she is no stranger to documenting the lives of herself and others and it forms a central part of her practice. NR Magazine joined the artist in conversation.

What does Identity mean to you as an artist?

I have often used my artistic practice as a way to research and hopefully come closer to understanding the different and fluid aspects of who I am in relation to others. Throughout my life, I have assumed and shed many different identities, which have brought waves of immeasurable grief as well as limitless joy. I see my job as an artist to explore and reflect on these observations and discoveries to those that might see my findings as interesting and/or useful.

Do you think surveillance has become an integral and practically unnoticeable part of our lives given the rise of social media and apps having access to our phones at all times? How do you think this will affect us in the future?

I cannot really speak for other people’s experiences navigating public and private spaces but I certainly notice the mechanisms of oppression in every surveillance camera and security guard watching me. I have come to understand surveillance to be part of my everyday experience while doing what I can to avoid it. I see it as a gaze of sorts coming from systems of oppression. I think we can find power in the choice to engage in public sousveillance (surveillance of ourselves) but it also gives power away, especially for more vulnerable populations like young people who may not be as aware of the implications and lasting impact willingly sharing information might have. As a private investigator, social media is an important research tool in the work I do. As I have learned more and more about how much and what types of information you can learn about people online;

“I have personally pulled away from engaging in sousveillance on social media, which has compelled me to find other ways to artistically process my experiences.”

I think privacy is very rare these days and I only see that becoming more and more the case.

Can you tell me more about your work ‘No Trespassing’ where you documented your estranged father?

The gist of this project was that from 2007-2010 I found, followed and photographed my estranged father as a way to sort out if I could ever reach out to him or be in his life again.

“My father tried to have me kidnapped when I was a little girl after he left our family. I was estranged from him for most of my life by my own choice after that.”

I started following him initially as a way to take my own power back using the long lens of my camera. As the project progressed, I started to see my acts of surveillance as a private performance just for me. I came away learning more about my own identity apart from him as well as the ways in which the abuse I suffered at his hands had, in part, informed who I had become as an adult. I documented the process and shared it as a book and exhibition as a way to interrogate the spaces between fact and fiction in our own histories as well as in storytelling.

You obtained a Private Investigator licence, what are the requirements to gain this license and now that you have it what is the legal extent of what you are able to do when surveilling an individual/s?  

In the United States, the license needed to legally practice as a Private Investigator is state by state but the requirements are all pretty similar. In New Mexico, where I live and work, 6,000 hours of investigative work are required as well as passing a jurisprudence exam, paying a licensing fee, and then participating in annual training. Because Private investigators are civilians, not police or military, the same laws apply to execute our jobs. So, for instance, when I conduct surveillance I must obey all laws regarding privacy and distance. I have had to learn a great deal about public and private space as it pertains to paparazzi law in order to navigate what is legal in terms of gathering information.

“I mostly have had to learn by research as I go and through developing relationships with other P.I.s, lawyers and sometimes even law enforcement.”

Has Covid affected how you approach your art practice?

While I have had a pretty substantial increase in private investigation clients during the pandemic, I have found that doing fieldwork to complete my jobs has been very tricky. I have given talks and performances nationally about my work in years past but have not been able to do that during the pandemic. I have had to put a project on hold that I was starting work on in 2019 because it depended on collaborators. I am happy that I have just been able to resume work on it this month. I hope to get back to booking lectures, talks, and performances again soon.

Can you tell me more about your ongoing work ‘D.I.Y. P.I.’?

Do It Yourself Private Investigation (D.I.Y. P.I.) is an ongoing project that began with getting my private investigator’s license in 2017 after putting in the five years of investigative work. I documented that process, shared the work on my Patreon, at an exhibition in Albuquerque, and toured a series of performances and talks. I think that my work comes across the clearest when I am able to present it publicly sharing the stories and adventures of making it. I hope to get back to doing more immersive performances and presentations about the work I do.

Where do you draw inspiration from?

Oh, wow – lots of places! Living my own life and observing how other people move through their lives has provided the most inspiration for me. Facing the systems of oppression in my day to day living and helping others to empower themselves in navigating these systems is what fuels me to keep getting up every day and trying.

“Making art in those spaces of feeling disempowered has literally kept me alive.”

Music and film also inspire me greatly.

‘Dear Erin Hart’ is perhaps your most well-known work, what do you think in particular draws people to this artwork?

Dear Erin Hart, lends itself well to a wider audience for a few reasons. One is that it is about identity theft, which is prevalent in our culture at the moment so it touches on a timely issue. Identity theft strikes at something very vulnerable for most of us. Our identities are all we have that is ours and only ours so when someone uses our name or image to commit acts that we do not ourselves do, it feels like a real violation and loss of control on a deep level. I think that those who read what I did for this project (following the woman who stole my identity) as an act of revenge, they seem to appreciate how I took back my power from this person who wronged me. For others, they see the compassion I found for this woman who is living her life the best way she knows how. Over the time I executed the project and really for the years that have followed, I have come to see it as an act of restorative justice on my part and long to actually know this woman.

What advice do you have for young creatives looking to explore concepts of identity and surveillance?

I encourage young people to explore how surveillance impacts them personally and professionally as well as how it informs their own identity. I will say that it has been very valuable to me to learn as much as they can about the laws around surveillance.

I have found self-reflection about my own identity to be a critical part of how I research and explore it on a larger scale outside of myself. In terms of those wanting to explore identity publicly as their work, I would advise anyone moving into this realm to deeply consider how they present themselves publicly and privately.

“Sharing your story is an act of generosity and trust and sadly, not everyone who has access to our images and stories can be trusted to be respectful.”

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

I am currently working on a collaboration called Practiced Disguises where artist and photographer Heather Sparrow is working with me to document the wide array of disguises I have employed in my work as a Private investigator. We are still in the early stages of bringing each disguise to life and I cannot wait to share this in the coming year or so.  I am also working with a well known Canadian actor to create a movie or TV series about that part of my life. We are working with a screenwriter on the script now, which is getting pretty exciting. I think it will be really interesting to see how the project unfolds!

Credits

Images · JESSAMYN LOVELL
www.jessamynlovell.com/

Intak Song

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. Vol.14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 444

Feature · Intak Song
Words · Izzy Bilkus

“I enjoy the conflict or inconsistencies in the space where I’m shooting”

Seoul-based photographer Intak Song has created a distinctive visual style with his work that extends from intimate portraiture to larger styled shoots, with a strong focus on fashion. Song’s work has been featured by the likes of Vogue Korea, SICKY Mag, Dew Magazine, PAP Magazine, HYPEBAE and more.

Working with both digital and analogue cameras, Song has established a strong and dynamic skill set within the industry and utilises the strengths of both methods to produce beautifully executed images. In a creative world that is becoming increasingly digitised, Song operates from a unique perspective, as he aims to move away from this ‘quick consumption’, towards a more authentic space.

Song’s work is heavily considered, with a mellow and otherworldly aesthetic. Before Song started his photography career, he communicated his emotions and creative vision through music. Discovering more about himself as a person and an artist through this process, Song is able to bring a unique sense of care and confidence to his images, all carefully informed by elegant styling and lighting.

NR Magazine speaks with the artist to learn more about his creative process and the ins and outs of his photography.

Could you talk a bit about your background and how you first started getting into photography?

I have been interested in art and culture since I was a child. I had an ordinary childhood and during my adolescence I was really interested in music, photography, film etc. I majored in music and dreamed of becoming a composer in college, so I went on a trip to Australia with a close friend. Photography was one of my hobbies but seeing myself concentrate more on photography rather than music while I was travelling in Australia, I thought about becoming a photographer.

In Australia, there was a high place overlooking a wide field and I wanted to take a picture naturally. It was one of the most beautiful moment in my life and I stayed for a while to watch the sunset. Since then, I have been working with confidence and preparing my portfolio. I think that beautiful moment gave me the confidence to become a photographer.

Do you channel cultural influences into your work?

I try to look observe things around me all the time. I can’t avoid being influenced by culture, and of course the atmosphere in Seoul, where I live, has affected me as well.

I’m influenced by the people around me, the conversations I have with friends, art, music, etc. These days, I am more interested in the social phenomena around me.

Has fashion always been an interest of yours? What intrigues you about it?

At first, I was not interested in fashion photography, but when I was working on my portfolio, I was interested in how the power of a photograph changes depending on the styling. Fashion is very important to my work – it has the power to change the story that I want to tell. When I work, I talk a lot with the stylist or director, and I develop more of my ideas during the shooting process.

Your work has a really unique, almost dream-like aesthetic. How did you come to develop this style?

I had a big imagination as a kid, but I’ve always preferred visualising my own world rather than being trapped in my imaginary world. I then wondered if I could visually turn this into a reality. Imagination takes up a lot of space in my work. These days, I’m interested in 3D work, so I’m thinking about what parts of my work I can mix with that.

What kind of working environments help motivate you?

Lately I’ve been trying to change my working process. Since I only work with fashion photography, I can begin to feel bored sometimes, so I like to look around seek out different kinds of photography projects. Sometimes I try to get the equipment together to shoot on public transportation instead of riding in my car. I think this small action helps me get closer to the social changes that people are interested in.

Have you learned anything about yourself through your work?

I think I’ve generally learned to accept a lot of things about myself through my work. I have a better sense of who I am now and how my mood can change with my work. I think I always check it through my work – it’s like looking in a mirror.

What aesthetics and styles influence your work?

I’m interested in things that are more objective rather than emotional. I like the way I see elements like stones, steel, outer space, and buildings.

Talk me through a day in the life of Intak Song.

Excluding the days when I have a meeting for work or shooting an advertisement, I spend a lot of time in my private studio. I also take my dog for walks.

You mentioned that you use both digital and analogue cameras. What attracts you to working with both of these?

Digital cameras and film cameras have different expressive powers, so I use them according to the work that they are best suited for. I think I decided to use both because I wanted to work with what they can both offer. Digital cameras are good for realistic depictions. There are times when I want to capture the essence of a painting, and film cameras are better at doing that.

Both have different expressive potential, so it is fun to pick and choose between them.

“I think there is nothing more meaningful than the tools you use to express yourself.”

What things in your daily life help you to stay creative?

I think conversation is important. There are a lot of good ideas that suddenly come to mind during a casual conversation. I don’t think it is necessary to have a creative conversation, I just enjoy talking about a variety of topics. Talking about trivial things and writing them down on a smartphone or on a notebook is good habit for everyday life. It can help keep the mind’s creativity flowing.

I think the best way to stay creative is to get into the habit of hanging out and talking with good people around you.

The theme of this issue is Identity, so I’d love to discuss your thoughts on your work and fashion photography as an expression of this.

I think it’s very important for photographers to express their identity. Tone, composition, pose direction, etc – these actions are all necessary when shooting, and they all stem from an identity. With fashion photography, you need an overall theme, and when you’re with a subject, the photographer will have their own principles that are important to them.

In terms of my own identity in my work, I think I have developed a tendency to include things I’m feeling or thinking about into my photography. Rather than using a more intuitive and direct way of speaking, I enjoy the conflict or inconsistencies in the space where I’m shooting.

“With my work, I am to create a strange expressiveness that is realistic and unexpected, and with fashion photography, I want to create my own version of a realistic fairy tale.”

You’ve mentioned the topic of ‘quick consumption’ in the past. What are your thoughts on fast fashion and consumption in the creative industry?

I think the pros and cons of ‘fast consumption’ clearly exist. The phenomenon of rapid consumption is increasing as modern technology develops rapidly, and artists are creating different content through applying these developing technologies. We’re in an era where people are scrolling through a lot of data unconsciously, which has the benefits of allowing us to enjoy a variety of quickly produced content.

With fast fashion, it acts quickly to consume and adapt to content created in this way, and that’s something I am personally worried about. I am sure that the faster the speed of production, the higher the probability that a lot of low-quality content will be created. Then the speed of consumption will increase, and this content of low quality will also increase, and there’s no authenticity.

I can’t quite find an exact answer to this question, but I think we need to be aware of these aspects of the fashion world.

What eras of fashion have shaped you as a creative the most?

90s Seoul office worker fashion.

What have been your favourite projects to work on?

I worked on a project called ‘L’Etranger’, which involved working with Korean immigrants. I planned to shoot a total of 10 episodes, but due to the current global circumstances, I couldn’t finish the project. That’s definitely something I want to continue working on.

Where do you see your creative vision taking you? Are there any upcoming projects we should look out for?

I plan to work on some elements for an exhibition in the future.

Credits

Images · INTAK SONG
www.instagram.com/songintak/

Ileana Ninn

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 368

Feature · Ileana Ninn
Words · Izzy Bilkus

“Even when you invent aspects of yourself, it’s always a part of you”

Through manipulating her photographs, Ileana Ninn plays around with concepts of perception, personality and how we see ourselves. Often erasing facial features, attaching multiple limbs, and cloning her subjects, Ileana encourages her imagery to be interpreted by the viewer at their own pace and without a concrete explanation.

Visually interrogating what it means to present yourself and your personality to the world, Ileana’s work is a palate cleanser for the timeless questioning of identity in portraiture. Ileana’s interest in the different facets all of us have to our personality and social façades is the driving force behind her work.

Ileana aims to explore our ability to change whilst remaining true to ourselves, and her work uncovers the conflicts and dilemmas that are apparent in what she describes as ‘a unique personality.’

NR Magazine speaks with the photographer to discuss her creative influences, how she sees others and how she has learned to observe herself through her work.

What inspired you to start manipulating and distorting your photographs?

I wanted to represent the phenomena of photography having different elements of personality and personal reflections of the world.

Your work plays around with the concept of perception and how we see ourselves. How would you describe the way you see yourself?

Although I represent myself in my photography, it’s not necessarily just my personality. I also play with my surroundings. The aim isn’t always to show myself, but more to highlight the complexity of an individual.

Do you find that distorting or manipulating your work uncovers anything about the original subjects? And do you find new creative perspectives from this process?

Yes, I try to reveal something. Whenever I choose a subject or take a photo, I do so knowing almost always in advance how I will distort it. I don’t always find my photos interesting without the process of manipulation that I put them through.

Talk to me a bit about your creative background and influences. Do you take much inspiration from aspects of surrealism and contemporary youth culture?

I grew up listening to a lot of music, mainly English pop and rock, and I was always fascinated by vinyl records and their covers – my father had a huge collection. In terms of surrealism, I think everything I saw from the world of Tim Burton influenced me.

You’ve mentioned that you like to highlight people’s ability to change while remaining themselves. Could you talk a bit more about that?

I think everyone shows different sides of themselves in different situations, to protect themselves or to show off, for example. When a person wants to show off to gain something, even if that person forces some of their personality traits, in the end it is still a part of them that they are showing.

“Even when you invent aspects of yourself, it’s always a part of you. I distort my photos the way people distort themselves.”

What do you want viewers to take from your work?

I am a young photographer, so I don’t really have enough experience or maturity to want anyone to get anything out of my work. If people are simply looking at them, then I’m happy. If people want to share with me the effect my work has on them, then even better. If I’ve been able to bring something to them in any capacity, that makes me happy. I want to share.

How does social media affect your practice? Is it your main way of communicating your art to others?

Yes, this is my main way of communicating my art. It’s easy, fast and I can reach people across the world. I prefer putting up posters, where people can stumble upon them randomly while walking down the street.

What photographers do you take inspiration from?

Hannah Maynard – she was born in England and moved to Canada in 1851. You should study her life and her work; I think she was an amazing woman.

Your work also demonstrates the different aesthetics and capabilities of the body and how figures interact with each other and the places they occupy. Is this a conscious choice? Does your work have a specific narrative?

Yes, I have a very clear idea of my subject, and unless there is a technical problem, the photos themselves are produced fairly quickly. I try to create an interaction and a link between my subjects. In staging myself multiple times in the same image, I want to give the impression of being different characters that are interacting with each other.

What do you enjoy most about photography as a means of self-expression?

I would say the manipulation of the image and being able to simultaneously express myself while being hidden.

Have you discovered anything about yourself or your surroundings through your work?

I’ve been able to choose how to look at myself and to not be subjected to the gaze of another.

With the theme of this issue being Identity, I’d love to hear your thoughts about the concepts of identity and ambiguity in your work.

For me and my work, identity is several things. It is a plural; it cannot be one and constant. It is influenced by all the different factors around us and can change and evolve over a lifetime.

“We may want to reinvent ourselves to satisfy an understanding of who we are.”

What aspects of your work reflect your own identity?

I stage myself multiple times throughout my work, as I feel like there are so many different aspects of my personality and how I want to represent myself publicly. I’m still young and I’m not sure of who I am and who I want to be just yet.

Credits

https://www.instagram.com/minifemelle/
Images · ILEANA NINN

Hajime Sorayama

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 488

Feature · Hajime Sorayama
Words · Nicola Barrett

“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/

Dita Pepe

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 390

Feature · Dita Pepe
Words · Nicola Barrett

“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

Posted on by nr

NR Vol. 14 Identity · Autumn Winter 2021
Published · Print Page 072

Feature · Christine Haroutounian
Words · Izzy Bilkus

“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