The Blackmail » 2009 » September

Let It Rain

gabe — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:16:34 +0000

Words: Kat Hartmann Images: Tristan Ceddia & Rainoff

Skateboarding fosters creativity. Don’t ask how, or why – it’s more of an observation than an indisputable fact – it just does. Call it culture acquisition through osmosis, if you want to hazard a guess. Read: learning about new, awesome shit from your friends with common interests. The way we learnt about new bands before MySpace. The old fashioned way.

Skating led one part of Rainoff the Sydney independent arts publishing house, Sinisa Mackovic to his now partner, Robert Milne. Skateboarding, working at Monster Children Gallery and a mutual curiosity in the works of similar, niche artists. Mackovic and Milne are both awfully interested in the creatives they like. They are also pretty psyched about garnering those works some attention.

Enter Rainoff.

Like all good artistically inspired projects, Rainoff developed organically. Decisions made over pints at the local grew into an independent publishing and distribution house with an impressive roster of local artists and international publications.

Rainoff publish books filled photographic works by local artists Sam Ash and Samuel Hodge. Labours of love they spend hours curating, compiling and presenting to the world at large. They distribute the oblique Daddy magazine and the recently launched, much heralded Mountain Fold Music Journal. They open curated bookshops, give them eponymous names, only to close them again two weeks later. That was always the plan, you see? There will be more, they assure us.

There is no discriminating between art, music and literary works in the pages of their books. Rainoff finds places for things from many mediums. There is no fear of the apparently impending death of print in their words. They realise that the independent publications, the grass roots ones, are popping up all over the place. There is a future for the printed page, albeit a slightly amended one. Ask Rainoff. They should know; they are young – they are the future.

Kat Hartmann: Tell me a little about the history of Rainoff. How did it all begin?

Rainoff: Basically we began publishing in late 2008. Our first book (Never Far by Sam Ash) came out in October. One of the reasons that we started Rainoff was to create a platform to pursue our own creative freedom. Publishing being one of those, through designing and editing the books ourselves. Another ambition which we hope to further is curating. We were able to initiate this with the selection of books for our bookstore.

We wanted to work together due to the fact that we both share a similar aesthetic. A lot of the time working together creates a better flow of ideas. The final concept is often something we might not have considered as individuals. We can bounce things off each other, and an idea can develop into something completely different to what it started as.

KH: What inspired the decision to be both a publishing and distribution house?

RO: The inspiration to be both a publishing and distribution house was due to fact that a lot of our favourite publishers were not available here and we thought that they should be.

These publishers are producing books for some of the best contemporary artists that are having major shows at international art galleries and museums. It’s not just because we like the artists ourselves, it’s actually also that they’re amazing young artists that we felt should be known about within Australia. Hopefully this will create more awareness of young, international contemporary art and allow it to be shown here.

KH: I’m interested in learning more about some of the other publications under the Rainoff distribution umbrella?

RO: A new title that we have recently picked up for distribution is Plants & Mammals by Carol Bove. It was made for her show at the Horticultural Society of New York. It includes 20th Century Narcissus by Janine Lariviere, a concertina book organised as a pictographic timeline chronicling the introduction of narcissus cultivars throughout the twentieth century, with appendix; exhibition poster and installation photograph.

Another favourite title of ours is Instilled and Lost by Dean Sameshima, published by Peres Projects. It’s a really beautiful book that compiles all of his work to date and is designed by Albert Folch Studio, who also do the art direction for Apartamento magazine. The cover of the book is quite special. It’s actually a folded up poster, and because of the way it’s folded, you can see all the layers of folds.

KH: What is it about each of these publications that has inspired you to add them to your distribution/publishing house?

RO: Carol Bove is an artist that we both have really admired for a long time. She is gaining some positive attention from the international art world. Most recently having work at the 2008 Whitney Biennial and currently an exhibition at The Horticultural Society of New York. Its not often that she puts out publications – her first being released in 2004, so we thought it was a great opportunity to get her work out here in published format.

Dean Sameshima is represented by Peres Projects. They represent a number of incredible artists. We carry all of their available publications. The Sameshima book is one that doesn’t get enough attention. It really is a great body of work put into a really well designed book.

KH: From the outside the independent publishing scene in Australia seems an almost invisible industry that remains silent and removed from other creative fields. Rainoff have, more recently, broken that silence. The opening of the Rainoff Curated Temporary Bookstore in Darlinghurst in July and the recent launching of the Mountain Fold Music Journal both received their fair share of attention. In your opinion, why the silence and how’d you manage to shout?

RO: Independent publishing in Australia is definitely receiving more attention lately, but we wouldn’t say that it’s because of us. The popularity of independent publishing throughout the world has definitely contributed to us being able to be recognised in what we are doing. Also, there are really talented people, doing great things here. You mention Mountain Fold, Douglas Lance Gibson, who is the publisher and editor-in-chief, has a completely unprecedented vision of what a music magazine should be, so it’s great that it’s getting the attention it deserves.

The bookstore also helped us quite a bit. Often, we talk about the tactility of printed matter, and the store really allowed for people to experience that. Sure, we can be the Australian distributors of these books, but a lot of the time bookshops won’t really take much of what we’re trying to give them, so people still miss out. The shop was better received than we thought it would be, so hopefully this will continue to develop the market for independent press here.

KH: Being that it is a music journal, Mountain Fold deals mostly in words. A recent issue of Daddy (VI) featured literary works as art. Other books have a more obvious grounding in photography; Samuel Hodge and Sam Ash’s books spring to mind. How would you define Rainoff? Literary based, art inclined, or both?

RO: Both. We don’t discriminate between creative fields.

KH: It would be remiss of me not to ask – although the subject has been somewhat exhausted of late – your thoughts on the state of print publishing, both in Australia and abroad.

RO: Publishing in print will always exist because people want it to exist. It provides an object that can be held and cherished. It seems now more than ever that there are lots of new independent publishing houses popping up all over the world. Which is great. Although, at the same time there is lots of online publishing due the accessibility of the internet. Hopefully this just means that the best will be saved for the printed page.

KH: How do you view the world of publishing beyond Australia?

RO: The world of publishing beyond Australia is definitely thriving at the moment. The popularity is allowing new things to happen such as ZINE’S MATE, the first art book fair held in Tokyo last month. Each year the New York Book Fair becomes more popular and is drawing a lot of positive attention towards publishing. It’s run by Printed Matter and this year for the first time will be held at PS1 – the most prestigious venue thus far.

Visit Rainoff Books

For your chance to win a Rainoff book just email prize@theblackmail.com.au

Next Article: Mark Drew – B Sides

Graceful Exits

tristan — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:15:51 +0000

Words: Max Olijnyk Images: Andrew Long

Maybe it’s the hills. Or, it could be the tight-knit, inclusive scene of artists, musicians, skaters and eccentrics. Maybe it’s the weird tasting water. Whatever it is, Adelaide seems to breed an inordinate amount of creative talent, none more so than 22 year-old Andrew Long. Andrew’s starkly lit, tightly framed black and white photographs have an eerie, timeless quality, evoking thoughts of heartbroken introspection and restorative nights on the town. Self-motivated and dedicated, Andrew has exhibited his work in a number of highly thought of shows and publications, as well as a series of self-published books and zines. Graceful Exits, Andrew’s third solo show is his best yet.

Max Olijnyk: So Andrew, you have a new show, a new job and a new house. Is this Graceful Exits collection of work a way of closing a chapter of your life and opening a new one?

Andrew Long: Yeah. That’s part of why I settled on that title, I like to think that an exit is an entrance to something else. There’s sadness but excitement.

MO: Tell us about where you’re living now.

AL: I moved into an old church just outside the city about a month ago, where three of my friends were already living. It’s really pretty special. There’s lots of room and everyone is pretty tight so it makes for a good party house. It’s got a great musical history, as in bands that have performed, practised or recorded here or the people that have lived here since its inception years ago. It’s going to be a good summer!

MO: You come off as quite a serious young man. But to those of us who know you well, you have an extremely mischievous side that is never far from the surface. I keep this in mind when I look at your photos, which are quite serious from the outset. Is this the intention?

AL: I guess I take all the photos seriously, but they all hold a different value to me. The photos are all really personal though, which might be why I would come across as serious.

MO: Does the way you see your images change? I’m wondering if fresh meaning appears when you see them alongside other images, or perhaps something you didn’t notice might pop out at you once it’s developed?

AL: Yes, a lot of the time. This is a really exciting thing about photography, putting things into context and understanding them long after the moment has passed. It works on a larger scale as well, like now that this exhibition is all done, I understand it and myself a bit more. There’s some quote about the photographer that shoots what he wants to understand which is true with me to an extent, I think.

MO: When I moved from Adelaide to Melbourne, there was definitely an adjustment period from being one of the only skaters who took photos and listened to sad white guy music, to one of many, a drop in the ocean in fact. Do you feel isolated creatively in Adelaide?

AL: I do in a way. A lot of my friends are musicians, so it’s a really different creative process – as in they have their set band practice every week and the rest of the time they can do whatever they want and still feel satisfied creatively. It can be hard to stay motivated, as I find I’m rarely bouncing ideas off of people. But that might just be me. I was definitely overwhelmed the first time I went to visit you when you moved, with everything that was happening, it was really encouraging.

MO: Does that ever make you feel like moving? Because I know you have a great group of friends there, and everything seems to be working out well. But there’s always the lure of the bigger cities.

AL: Of course. I have been tempted a couple of times to move to Melbourne in particular but for some reason or another not gone through with it. Adelaide, especially if you have good friends, can be a really comfortable place to be. It can be a dilemma though because I’m at an age where I feel like I want to throw myself into a new city and out of the comfort zone to see what would happen. I will move, but I’m not sure how soon.

MO: There are several themes running through your work – in this collection, and your body of work as a whole. The beautiful young men, the flora, the close-up blurred portraits, the hi-jinx… Are these things you return to consciously, like every time you notice it happening, or is it coincidence?

AL: I do consciously stick to themes. It also has a lot to do with the editing process as well as what I choose to take a picture of. By coming back to things similar to what I’ve done before, I guess I’m just wanting to improve on old work. The blurred portraits are a new thing that I just started doing this year, which I think fits in well – although aesthetically it’s completely different.

MO: It’s interesting that you say you’re trying to improve, rather than add to a collection. Do you feel your work has improved over the past few years? Personally, I can see a huge progression.

AL: I think so. When I say improvement I mean I think I’m getting better at saying what I want to say, although I guess that can also change with what is happening in my life. Looking back on The Mizpah it seems a lot more relaxed than what I’ve just done. It’s a good time capsule for me, which is what all this is I suppose.

MO: As well as your photographic prints, there is a video component to Graceful Exits. This is a new thing for you, isn’t it? How did it come about, and how does it fit in with the rest of the work?

AL: Yes, I literally finished it last night after it being just a ‘what if’ for months… It’s very new, I’ve never made a video before and it’s a really rewarding feeling. My friend Bryan Mason, who made the best Adelaide skate videos, helped me with the post-production, which was great. He knew exactly what I was trying to do. It’s technically the same as the blurred portraits, but a video, a close-up moving portrait of my friend Stuart that loops after about 7 minutes. It’s an expansion of this idea that I had, to really zone in on the eyes and do a piece that was the complete opposite of what my other photographs look like. I wanted it to be this document of someone young really just living – breathing, blinking and everything. I got some really great expressions throughout the video, which was just one shot. It will be a projection in the front window of the exhibition space.

MO: Your new zine Ignorance is Piss is perhaps your best yet. Is it specifically to accompany the show? Is it available to buy? How about your previous zines and books? That interiors one was great, too.

AL: Thanks Max. Yes it is a supplement to the show. This time round, I wanted to separate the pictures that I think worked as individual pieces for an exhibition and the other photos that I wanted to work as a kind of narrative, like in my previous work. The new zine will be available online through OWN Books in Melbourne. My old ones are still available through me – some shops that I sent them to may still have a few, but I’ve since lost track.

MO: Why is it not many photographers talk about their equipment, or the technical aspect of their art? Does it detract from the mystery? Are you willing to break the mould here? What do you use, man?

AL: This is true isn’t it? Well, currently – and only for this most recent show – I’ve been using Contax equipment, switching back and forth between a rangefinder and a point and shoot. For a long time I’ve also used Mamiya 645’s, which I will still use for less candid photos. The pictures from my first book Flannelette Shirts & Flash-Lit Hair were predominantly shot on disposable cameras, so I’ve sort of been working up to nicer equipment since then. As irrelevant as it can be, it’s always interesting what a different camera can bring to your photos.

MO: Devet Decet is your web based project you’ve been doing for a few years now. I know it has changed shape a few times. What’s the current incarnation? And you got a tattoo of the logo!

AL: Currently, it’s a place where my zines are available to buy, and I’ve put some photographs on there from friends like you and Tom (Jeppe). It has changed a few times, I never really decided what I wanted it to be I guess. I just recently got the old logo for it on my arm, this pointy dotted love heart I drew years ago.

MO: Any plans to take Graceful Exits to other places than Adelaide?

AL: I would really like to do that next year, although there aren’t any plans yet.

MO: Tell us about the space you are using to exhibit Graceful Exits.

AL: It’s an antique store that my friend John Taylor owns, that I used to work in when I was younger – just doing odd jobs and photographing the stock. It’s an amazing building and John has just recently repainted the floors and walls making it look really nice as a gallery setting. I remember when I was working there I saved my pay up to buy my first Mamiya on eBay, so putting on an exhibition there is pretty cool – like I’ve come full circle or something.

MO: Some of your work deals with skateboarding, though it feels almost incidental, as if you are observing it from a distance. Your skate photos now look like they are taken by someone who doesn’t necessarily skate, in the way they are framed and timed. But you used to shoot ‘proper’ skate photos for magazines, multiple flashes etc. What happened there? Do you view skateboarding differently now? What do you think of skate photography?

AL: Well I think anyone that does skate photography knows that it can be quite exhausting. There’s a huge amount of commitment involved and I really respect the people that make a living out of it, and are really good at it. Skateboarding is a huge part of my life. It’s the reason I met so many of my best friends, and the reason I started taking photos. After shooting skate-photos as a really strict formula for a couple of years, I found it more enjoyable just to shoot on a more personal level, my friends the skaters as people. It’s fun now to mess around with, like crop it right down to just the skater and board during the trick or I guess using that photo of the slam at the bottom of the stairs.

MO: Do you take as many photos these days as you have always done?

AL: It goes through waves. At the moment, I haven’t really been shooting much at all, which might have to do with the whole finishing process of this show. Once it’s all done I’ll be able to relax and feel ready to start again. I used to put myself on a one roll per-week minimum. It’s interesting though, I read in a Wolfgang Tilmanns interview that he actually doesn’t shoot a lot at all, but then there’s people like Nobuyoshi Araki that has shot every day of his life for so many years – both such amazing photographers. I’m definitely of the opinion that I don’t shoot enough though.

MO: Over the past few years, you’ve done quite a bit of travel. Would I be right in saying Japan is one of your favourite places? Any plans to spend a more extended period of time over there or anywhere else?

AL: I love to travel – it’s what I’ve always wanted to do since I was a kid. Japan is definitely one of my favourites, I’m going back for September. I’d like to go overseas for an extended period but I am committed to my job at the moment and I’d like to achieve a few things interstate before leaving indefinitely. Some of the photos in Graceful Exits were taken in Europe. I like the juxtaposition of photos from somewhere far away and amazing to me, with photos in Australian suburbia. You wouldn’t really know I guess but that’s what the plant photos are in the exhibition. A flower in Lyon, France set aside a flower in Magill, South Australia.

MO: Your work has a sort of dramatic feel to it. It’s like you are saying, look at these people, look at these plants, look at all these things, they are the most important things in the world and deserve to be thought of as such. Though thinking about it, that is essentially what anyone who takes a photograph is saying, it’s just that your work communicates it effectively. Is that how you see it?

AL: It’s a bit cliché but I really enjoy the feeling of photographing something that could be seen as boring, and giving it a new existence. In this show there’s a photo of a small tree out the back of my Dad’s house in Brisbane. It’s next to the BBQ and really quite sad looking – something you wouldn’t look twice at. When I first got it back I wondered whether I went a bit far on the flash. It’s really burnt into the negative, overexposed. But now it’s one of my favourites because of that. Its like, I don’t really give a shit if this is a ‘correct’ photo of this tree, I’ve centered it and flooded it with really harsh light. There’s no fancy technique or anything trying to make this look attractive, I may even be making it look unattractive to some. It’s a really technically basic photograph. I guess it’s just about seeing the beauty in what you have rather than looking for something better all the time, which is something I often have to remind myself of.

Graceful Exits is showing from August 25 to September 12 at A.Avignon in Hackney, Adelaide.

For your chance to win a copy of Andrew Long’s Ignorance is Piss just email prize@theblackmail.com.au

More from Andrew Long at Devet Decet

Next Article: Love Of Diagrams: Forever Is A Long Time

Family Guys

tristan — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:15:17 +0000

Words: Michaella Solar-March Images: David Jacob Kramer & Thomas Jeppe

While the glamour and grandeur of Los Angeles and its primed Hollywood starlets pulls focus, the city has a dynamic and inspiring artistic underbelly that thrives feverishly on the DIY aesthetics of those who are nurturing and developing it. The latest wave of creative energy is centred around straightedge live music venue The Smell (founded by L.A. DIY exemplar Jim Smith) and Fairfax Avenue bookstore Family. In their short histories, both have become a source of inspiration for creative communities the world over – and almost all of it by chance. Friends since early high school, David Jacob Kramer and newlyweds Tahli and Sammy Harkham moved to America from Australia around four years ago and decided to set up shop. Michaella Solar-March caught up with David Jacob Kramer to find out what makes Family so special…

Michaella Solar-March: What were you doing before you guys established Family?

David Jacob Kramer: I lived in New York and was trying to write for magazines, but really I just wanted to hang out in the city. I didn’t think much beyond just hanging out.

Tahli had just finished studying and was facing the realities of working a boring, full-time job… and then she saw the space. She’s really impulsive and called me up, and I came over and decided to leave New York and do it. As soon I made that decision, Tahli announced she was pregnant – that was the end of a huge proportion of her involvement in the store so Sammy and I had to pick up the pieces!

MSM: So you and Sammy are now running Family?

DJK: Now it’s 95% me and 5% Sammy. He’s a cartoonist and he’s starting to make movies now. It was never a choice that I would take over the store, it just happened that way, against my will! Everyone is still involved, but if Sammy is really busy I have no choice but to step up, and now he and Tahli have two kids…

Plus, I got really excited about the store. I got obsessive with the idea of trying to get every single awesome book and record that is being published right now and fits into the vision of what the store is about.

MSM: Yeah the store does have an obvious editorial voice. How do you curate Family? How do you find everything you stock?

DJK: Obsessiveness. I might get an email from someone and then I’ll go to their website and find a link to somewhere else. With the internet, you can discover stuff from all over the world, choose what you want, email them, and have the stuff in the store within a week. The internet has facilitated Family in a way.

MSM: Do you think Family could exist outside of LA?

DJK: I wonder. Sometimes I think we should move to New York but the rent would be crazy. I can only speculate, but the thing with LA that is different to New York is that in New York people expect different, smart, impressive things to happen. But in LA, people are psyched if anything is going on!

MSM: Is that why you established the Hope gallery? To just get people excited about more stuff you were into?

DJK: Oh we actually just closed Hope! Not for good, but that location was really expensive, and when the recession happened all the stores around us closed and more opened that were really whack. We were playing loads of rent to be in a block that wasn’t cool at all anymore. I want to do less shows so it’s less stressful, and I want to be in an area where there are things we share a kinship with.

MSM: That kinship seems very strong in Los Angeles. With The Smell, Aaron Rose and ANP Quarterly, Cinefamily, Oogabooga store and the rest, that niche LA scene is now iconic and almost acts as a beacon of hope for independent communities worldwide – you’ve been mythologised and canonised. What is it about LA that drives that creativity, do you think?

DJK: There’s just not that many people! We’re just a bunch of friends, and I guess everyone is psyched on each others energy in a way. We’ve had this convergence of people who think alike, but not in an obvious way. Everyone who’s smart and isn’t jaded.

Also most of the people who shop at Family aren’t necessarily cool. The spectrum of things we carry is really wide, and we never wanted to be exclusive, it was always supposed to be a huge eclectic range of stuff that everyone would find accessible and that would be inspiring on every level. Not like an exclusive, cool club.

MSM: So, what is it you think that drives that dialogue, that mythology, around Family?

DJK: It’s all bullshit, I think. Because I run Family I am in the middle of it all and it seems really exciting to me, but it would because I’m at every single launch, every in-store, every show. I definitely don’t feel self-conscious about it. Whatever I want to do, we just do and it doesn’t always work – Hope had to close because we never made any money – but that’s the way it works. With Family and Hope it’s really like running a pirate ship, trying to keep your staff happy and fed and keep afloat…

MSM: Keep smooth sailing…

DJK; Yeah! I guess there is a vague vibe, but there’s no manifesto or anything because it really is just a bunch of people. Somehow, everything just converged and that’s what made it seem so dynamic. It was a fluke, I guess, that the timing was right, because I think it had been a long time since anything interesting had come out of LA and LA was waiting.

MSM: Also I guess that everything happened at the same time, in sync, and all these initiatives were equally successful. There are always exciting burgeoning scenes developing all over the world but a lot of the time there isn’t the money or interest there to sustain them…

DJK: Maybe, but I really think it only takes a few people that are really psyched, and you just have to persist. You can put out a book that not that many people read, but it depends who reads it and who it influences. I really think it’s the power of ideas that are the dynamism, rather than the location…

Of course, it doesn’t hurt to be in LA. The city really fosters and nurtures insane visionaries, and has such a strong media presence. But there are no real institutions, no real history. People haven’t been living here that long and it’s not institutionalised like New York is. When I started Hope I didn’t feel like I had anyone to answer to. There are very few haters in LA – people are generally, for some cosmic glitch, being really nice to each other. I think it’s just a weird cosmic glitch.

MSM: I love that idea – very romantic.

DJK: Totally. Living a life where you are creating a story about what you do, that is a goal of mine. Everything I do should express where I am emotionally, intellectually, spiritually. Every career choice I make should be an expression of where I am as a person.

Visit Family Bookstore online here

Next Article: Ben Sullivan – LA To Vegas

Forward Thinking

gabe — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:12:50 +0000

Words & Images: Tristan Ceddia

Brendan Huntley is a pretty infectious human. If you have ever met him, or seen his band Eddy Current Suppression Ring live, you’ll know what I’m talking about. I recently found out that scientists are looking at the possibility that our stomach’s may posses something called ‘perception intelligence’. If this is true, Brendan’s ‘perception intelligence’ is spot on. His ability to go with his guts grants him the power to create honest, uninhibited artwork and write lyrics that mesmorise the crowds. In the spirit of how he approaches his work we had a conversation about his upcoming exhibition at Utopian Slumps in Melbourne.

Tristan Ceddia: You’ve got your second solo show at Melbourne’s Utopian Slumps gallery. Earlier this year you showed at Hell Gallery in Richmond. How do you set up for shows in different spaces. Do the confines of the gallery affect your working/exhibiting process?

Brendan Huntley: Hell Gallery is a fairly small, but nice sized space. It’s considerably smaller than the Slumps with one singular room. The work I showed at Hell was quite small, whereas the work for the upcoming Slumps show is considerably larger. I’ve worked knowing that I’ll be showing at Slumps later in the year, I put aside a collection of pieces, separating the two bodies of work, larger work for the Slumps and smaller work for Hell. In my head, I can see the pieces together as an installation. As I make a particular work, as it unfolds, I know that it makes sense for a particular show. A few of weeks ago, I went through and worked out which particular sculptures were going to go into Slumps. I took them out on my lawn and laid them out how I would in the show, on the plinths, in the space. I really had a think about which works need to go in, which works worked as individuals , and which ones worked as a sculptures in relation to each other and the painting on paper. I had to consider all this stuff working together individually and as a group at the same time.

TC: In previous shows you presented certain sculptures in sets. Two to four pieces presented and sold as a cluster. What’s the relationship you see happening with these pieces. Why is it important that they carry on together?

BH: I like my work to be able to stand up on its own. Eventually the whole show will be separated, so most importantly the work needs to be able to stand on its own, as a singular sculpture and secondly as an intstallation. Unless they’re being presented as a couple or a group, in which case they go off as a couple or a group and stay that way. I guess, without over analysing things, it has to be that way. It’s like a set of cups or a group of people. It’s that certain feeling you get from a group, a certain energy is coming at you. Are you going to be able to walk past with no hassles, or do you need to cross the street? It’s a different situation, but its the power of the group that I want to capture in those certain pieces. It comes across as a set of jugs, or as a group of people. It’s a feeling. Sometimes it’s different depending on what time of the day you approach them. When they are walking down the street, whether it’s a safe time, at a certain point they have a certain feeling.

TC: Do you find when you are working on a cluster, you are building them at the same time, or are you creating one piece and deciding that it needs a partner or a flock?

BH: It depends, sometimes it’s two particular individuals that come together as one. In the Hell show there was a couple, a girl and a guy and they were together. They are singular energies on their own, but together they create another sort of energy. Like in a relationship. Like say, celebrity couples. They are individuals on their own, but together they are that power couple, together thay have a certain energy. Not even in a celebrity sense though, it could be two people that live out in the suburbs, they join forces, and they make an energy from their two singular forces.

TC: Do you feel like the characters in your work represent parts of your personality in some sense?

BH: Without taking something from me, the pieces definitely hold the energy that has come through me and has been expressed in the piece of work. I guess when you make something, it’s like the universe is working through you, out your hands, out your mind and into the clay, or onto the paper. I don’t feel like I have ownership over the works personality, it’s just like a little piece of energy that has come through me and been captured.

TC: I know that with your work, as much as you can talk about these relationships, none of it is really thought about or pre-conceived, it all happens very naturally right?

BH: Yeah, the work happens, and the analysis comes later. I don’t really think it out, but it’s times like this, in an interview, that I do. You can really try to think about this stuff, but it’s pointless really. Like I said, at different times you look at different things and you can get a different feeling. Not just like an observation, it’s something beyond that. There’s no point in you really writing any of this down, because at the end of the day, I would prefer people to look at something and get their own feeling from that particular object, as they would if they saw a cross or a painting on the wall. Whatever it is, it’s for that person to figure out what they want to take from it and that could be a lot or not much at all. It depends on what reaches out to them. The power of the cross is phenomenal, it’s a really powerful object. It’s bizarre, people wear one around their neck and feel secure, or have one on the wall and it means their home is blessed. The power and the feeling goes beyond the object. The same thing goes on with art in general, maybe not all art, but you get what I mean.

TC: Do you form special relationships with your paintings and sculptures when you’re creating them?

BH: Yeah definitely. Especially after spending so much time with the work, having them hanging around the studio you really form some great bonds with them. It can be hard to say goodbye to them at times. …The relationship with clay as a material itself is extremely important too and it goes way further than trying to analyse what a piece of work means. The energy involved in working with clay is a pretty awesome experience…

TC: We’ve all seen Ghost right?

BH: Exactly, we have all seen that movie (laughs) – that’s pretty sexy! But it really is a relationship in itself. If I don’t get down to the studio, I have withdrawals. It’s not like I am addicted, I just love getting down there, being on my own, getting on the wheel or sculpting, putting things together, carving away, adding things. Just squishing clay in your hands, or squishing an oil stick down onto the paper,squishing it in, moving it around and getting that richness out of the materials. It’s that awesome squish, or even spraying some paint down, seeing it all fall into place, or gliding the brush soaked with glaze across the clay. It’s a hard feeling to explain, but that’s what I enjoy, the actual process. It’s like jamming, making music, you’re making something that wasn’t there before and often it owns you. Often it takes over what you even thought you were trying to make. All of a sudden the shape is different from what you were trying to make and you think, do I fight this, or do I leave it how it is, or does it fall somewhere in between? Often the best stuff comes when you just embrace where it’s taking you. You let yourself go… like in Ghost!

TC: Both your parents practiced pottery and painting. Having their influence as well as access to materials must have been formative for you as a child?

BH: Yeah, I grew up always being encouraged to draw, just like every kid, but maybe more so since the materials were always around. We always had lots of scrap paper to draw on, books, crayons, pens, textas, we were encouraged to use whatever materials were around us. Having a work shop out the back of our house was also pretty excellent. I have had clay in my hands, probably just eating it, since the day it was safe to put clay in a kids hands. I think this definitely has been the main reason I have had that natural urge to continue using clay. I grew up in a naturally creative environment, I’ve always felt comfortable with it. It’s like kids who were bought up with sporting families. Some move away, but some embrace it. I often think what if I was bought up in a family of athletes who adored football, what would I be doing? Would I be a different frame or structure? Would I be thinking completely different because of that? I really appreciate the fact that I have been nurtured in my particular way. I love it.

TC: When I came to your studio recently, you had work further evolved than the work you are exhibiting in the Slumps show. It’s interesting to think about the process of working and exhibiting. You have everything ready for one show and you are already exploring past this stuff creatively, and then you have to stop and work on presenting this somewhat older work for a show.

BH: That’s a good statement. I definitely have had to put a few things aside. Like I’ve had to try and put the creative process on hold to get this Slumps show up. Build the plinths, go to the framers, organise everything. It’s a whole different ball game, actually it’s more like the same ball game, just one part’s the batting and the other is the bowling, or the other way around, either way without that stuff, shit doesn’t happen. I’ve been missing getting in the studio and messing around because I have to build and paint all these bloody plinths. It’s a different state of mind setting up for a show, different to creating. It can be tough working it all out, still exciting, but it’s very different to the creative process, But you can’t have one with out the other and I’ve had to realise that. You really have to get into it and enjoy it, or just be happy not showing it at all. For me it’s all based on decisions, based on gut feelings. You gotta go with your guts.

Looking Forward by Brendan Huntley opens at Utopian Slumps on September 11 from 6pm and runs until September 26.

Next Article: Lucy Folk – A Fist Full Of Gold

Heads Of State

gabe — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:11:29 +0000

Words: Gabriel Knowles Images: Zara Poole & Jacinda Fermanis

If there’s anything the internet excels at, it’s hype. In this digital age a band doesn’t even have to release an EP before the whole world knows about it. Royal Headache are one of those bands, with the blogging set projecting them to a whole new audience before they’d even had time to get a 7″ pressed. Fortunately they’ve got the right perspective as well as still having no idea what Pitchfork is…

“They got in touch with us and I didn’t even know who it was. So I wikipedia’d this Ryan dude and apparently he’s the head honcho there.” Drummer Chris Shortt recounts of the four piece’s first exposure to the overtly fickle tastemakers over at the music blog Pitchfork. They might have caught the ear online, but it’s their live show and their ability to blow away all in attendance that’s hooked them up a deal with Melbourne label Stained Circles. The older half of the band including Shortt and vocalist Tim Wall are a little more circumspect about the prospect of someone asking them to release an album than their younger band mates. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact both have spent their fair share of time in bands on the punk and thrash scene over the years and seen deals come and go. In any case the enthusiasm from bassist Joe Davies-Griffith and guitarist Lawrence William Hall, both just into their twenties, obviously has an effect on those getting closer to thirty. “I’m really excited, it’s my dream to write an LP!” Hall exclaims, setting the ball in motion with plans of how it’s going to go down.

The LP might be in the works but playing gigs at venues close to home has proved difficult of late with local publicans not always so helpful. “We were supposed to play a gig at The Glengarry in Redfern which normally has room temperature folk music so we thought they must have been up for blowing the roof off the joint.” Wall recounts with the panache of a born storyteller and the charisma of a frontman. “But then we turned up with some amps and they freaked out! The guy was stammering ‘L-l-leave, t-t-take everything with you.’ Luckily I live 30 seconds away so my house mate suggested we just play the gig at our place. It was fucking cool in the end.”

“It was for the best, we played in the backyard that backs on to the lane way. So we pulled up the roller door and there were people hanging in the lane way.” Shortt adds. “People sitting on the roof.” Hall takes up the story before Davies-Griffith ties up the technical loose ends. “The sound was really good too, better than most clubs we’ve played at.”

That gig, and Royal Headache as they are today, would never have happened if the original plans for a female vocalist had come to fruition. “I got their tape because they were stumped for vocals, it sounded really good and it was hot, but it was screaming for singing.” Wall explains. “I was supposed to just be helping this other girl they had lined up to be the singer and then I got excited about the shit I was making up for her so I just ended up jamming with them. I thought about putting my hair in pigtails and dressing up in girl punk stuff. Can you imagine! That’s the worst kind of cross dressing!”

So with the bloggers all exited about the track ‘Eloise’ it has to be asked just who the lady that’s inspired this track is. “Honestly no one but it’s caused me some problems because this girl I’m just friends with is called Eloise and my cousin is called Eloise!” Wall admits anti-climactically. “It just sounds like a nice girls name. I write songs based on sounds and melody, my lyrics don’t always mean something. I don’t think I’ve ever met girl good enough to write a song about so I just had to make one up.”

Royal Headache – Eloise (Right click and save to download)

You’d never guess Wall’s scared of stages, or that the band have spent most of their time playing and recording in a boat shed, and not a garage, on the edge of Sydney’s picturesque Parramatta River. “It sounds great there, it’s got this natural reverb.” Davies-Griffith says, later he admits he played in a Napalm Death cover band called Napalm Breath which reaffirms that he’s not all technical.

“I used to play in this punk thrash band called Headless Horsemen and we were touring Europe, staying in squats between shows in Germany and stuff like that. We almost played with the Misfits then. We were supporting this band who were lined up to support them in Poland but we couldn’t get a visa in time, because back then it was harder to get into Poland.” Shortt chimes in with another previous band story. He does mention that at that stage there was only one original Misfits member in the line up but the general consensus in the room is that it still would have counted.

The mention of one of the mainstays of punk music’s last big trip into popular culture gets Wall musing. “I think punk has started to make sense again, there’s something about the immediacy of punk. In the context of music I guess we’re going through a stage where music has become quite introverted and a bit spineless so punk has become necessary again.” The Queen might have become irrelevant but punk is back.

Royal Headache play Flip Out festival at Melbourne’s The Corner Hotel on September 5

Next Article: Andrew Long – Graceful Exits

A Fist Full Of Gold

gabe — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:10:26 +0000

Words: Caroline Clements Images: Melanie Katsalidis & Fraser Marsden

It all started in kindergarten, stringing together pieces of bow tie pasta and sucking soggy Burger Rings off your fingers. You see at the age of five, a handmade penne necklace is really quite glamourous. Some years later, jewellery designer Lucy Folk is perpetually inspired by the time when her materials came from a bag at the supermarket and could also be found in her dinner bowl that night. Since then, Folk has created a range of ‘wearable food’ in more tasteful forms that are worth their weight in gold (and silver).

The first thing I think about when I sit down to write about Lucy Folk is that we already have something in common – notably, she loves food. “For as long as I can remember good food has been at the forefront of my life.” Growing up behind the scenes of her father’s cafés and restaurants, helping to prepare all sorts of tasty treats. Her Austrian father has always been in hospitality, and after a long career in interior design her mother has taken to tending the veggie garden at his office. “To this day they still makes sure we have a wonderful assortment of fresh food on our plates.” Sharing this passion for food with friends and family has been a simple yet constant pleasure throughout Folk’s life, so making ‘wearable food’ was a natural path to pursue.

“The recipe for Lucy Folk jewellery is a combination of originality and tongue-in-cheek humour”, says Folk. “I love preserving food and giving it a new context on the body, re-creating it for fellow foodies in precious metals for timeless wear.” So after many cups of cordial in jewellery making classes on Tuesday nights after school, Folk went on to study gold and silversmithing at RMIT. “Originally I was carving a lot of Jelutong wood and electroplating real food. Now I stick to sterling silver, gold plating and 18 carat yellow gold.” This process requires loads of patience, fine handiwork, messy procedures ranging from sanding, polishing, oxidising, sawing, wax carving, soldering and pretty much everything in between except putting the finished jewellery piece in the box ready for the shops.

Folk is based in Melbourne and notes the CBD as having some amazing sources for materials. The Manchester Unity Building is a treasure trove of all sorts of people that service the jewellery industry. Though preferring to source things locally, Folk also finds when traveling she collects interesting materials from flea markets, antique stores and all sorts of dark corners. However, with have such an array of materials it can difficult to implement these into her designs, and when pieces are precious or vintage it’s hard to put a price on them.

That said, with her jewellery box full of ‘wearable food’ pieces, Folk recently embarked on a trip to Europe to flaunt her wares. “My trip was very interesting. It is really difficult to break into the European market and I still haven’t managed to crack it.” With tough competition, a lot of designers are making drifting to Asia for economic reasons. At one end of the spectrum, there is a lot fashion jewellery made from base metals which is then silver or gold plated, and people are mad about plastic jewellery and incorporating fabrics and all sorts of different materials into their work. Hand made sterling silver and gold jewellery, on the other hand, is very fine and expensive, usually riddled with diamonds and sparkles. “I love Victoire de Castellane, she’s the head designer for Dior Fine Jewellery. She has an amazing imagination, and sets no boundaries.” Obviously when you are working with an unlimited budget and selling pieces for exorbitant amounts then you can be adventurous with precious materials. “She doesn’t hold back,” Folk notes, and sometimes her work can be completely outrageous and can take up to four months to create just one ring. “She’s almost a surrealist in the jewellery world.” Folk, places her own work somewhere in between.

The market is limited in Australia and the point of difference for Folk is that she has a background in both gold and silversmithing. She doesn’t skimp on materials or quality and where possible she likes to mix gold and silver and be as creative as possible. “I don’t source anything from overseas for my production range and I make everything by hand. My work has so much metal weight and this translates into big costs.” So it makes sense for Lucy Folk to to be placed in shops, boutiques and galleries that sell other expensive items, otherwise it would be difficult to even cover costs. As such, Folk is eager to broaden her clientele by stocking at varied outlets from specialised jewellery stores, to high end fashion boutiques and design stores, both in Australia and overseas.

One of these places is Pieces of Eight Gallery in Melbourne. Designed and created by fellow student Melanie Katsalidis, PO8 gallery and workshop was begun with her father, Nonda, in 2005. Soon after Folk took a spot in the workshop where there are always at least six designers sharing the space. It’s fronted by a small retail gallery that Katsalidis has curated. She now represents over 30 artists and jewellers and holds exhibitions in the window every four weeks. And while Folk sells her work in fashion boutiques and specialised jewellery stores such as Alice Euphemia, Glitzern and Kozminky, she works to order at Pieces of Eight and they carry the largest range of her work.

Perhaps these items seem like luxury goods in the current economic climate, but Folk does not think this has affected the jewelery market in an obvious way. “I think accessories are timeless and people are focusing on buying things that can be worn forever. Plus jewellery isn’t as disposable as fashion and everyone needs something special once in a while.” Which leads me to my own Lucy Folk popcorn ring from the Nibbles collection. One of her signature pieces, “the popcorn ring is definitely my favourite piece,” Folk states. The popcorn piece is a solid 18 carat yellow gold and the ring is sterling silver. “I love the two metals together and it has an amazing weight to it. It’s hard for people to decipher what it is exactly.” It could be a nugget of gold or a gnarly rotting tooth, the ambiguity is part of the appeal.

Folk’s most recent range is a Seafood collection “turning shellfish into unique, luxurious jewellery.” The summery selection includes a caviar ring, lobster leg and mud crab necklaces, crab claw cufflinks and several other morsels from the sea including a silver oyster shell that’s stamped with “Salty shucked love”.

Lucy Folk’s latest range will be out in time for summer. Check it out before you get food envy here and here.

Pieces of Eight Gallery has a studio open day on Tuesday September 1 where you can come behind the scenes and meet Lucy and all the other resident jewellers, open from 3pm-6pm.

Next Article: Royal Headache – Heads Of State

Forever Is A Long Time

gabe — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:09:30 +0000

Words:Douglas Lance Gibson Images: Love Of Diagrams

If you were to play Love Of Diagram’s first album, The Target Is You, alongside their latest offering, Nowhere Forever, there’s a good chance that the uninitiated wouldn’t recognise that they were created by the same band. But for those who have watched the band develop from their stark, angular instrumental beginnings to their current texture rich approach, the progress makes a lot more sense. This is a band that practically learnt how to sing in public, and with each release, their growth as songwriters has become apparent.

On their third album, Nowhere Forever, Love Of Diagrams deliver their most confident songwriting yet. The album automatically feels familiar and immediate, a cohesive document that captures the band’s current feel perfectly. Doug Gibson sat down with guitarist Luke Horton to find out how they did it…

Doug Gibson: For the recording of Nowhere Forever, you basically recorded the whole album as demos before you went across to America to do the studio recordings. Would you ever produce a whole album yourself?

Luke Horton: Do you mean record it at home and do it all ourselves?

DG: Yeah, as another way of keeping control.

LH: I don’t think we’ve got the technical capabilities to make a record sound really good. Also, we want good live sounding drums, and we want those things that give a “band playing in a room” sense to it, and I think you have to be a very skilled technician to pull off those sounds. If we were making very lo-fi music and the drums could just be this distorted thing in the background, I could probably pull off stuff that I was happy enough to use. That said, no one has ever produced our records, we’ve always been completely in charge of all the sounds and the mixes and all that stuff. We just work with people who are really talented engineers.

DG: So what was the impetus to go back over to America to record Nowhere Forever?

LH: We were talking to a few people for a little while about this record. Guy Picciotto, from Fugazi, we were talking to him for a while. He came to our show and he seemed to like the band and he was interested in doing it. He’s made a whole bunch of records with Ryan Hadlock, who made the record, and they work together as co-producers. They’ve made a few Blonde Redhead records together at Bear Creek. That was an exciting proposition but he just got really busy, playing guitar again in Vic Chestnutt’s band, then his wife was having a baby, so we just couldn’t work out when to do it. He just said to us, “You should just work with Ryan, because Ryan really does all the work. When we work together I’m there as an ideas person and co-producer. It’s Ryan’s studio and he knows what he’s doing. Just work with him.” So that’s how we ended up working with Ryan. We got a grant to do it, so that helped us to get over there. I guess, rather than doing it here, to go back to the States…well, there were so many great records coming out of Bear Creek and all the amazing vintage gear that Ryan had access to. It just seemed like a beautiful studio in a beautiful spot, sort of in these woods with these beautiful, old timber buildings. It was just a really nice place to go and make a record.

DG: At this point you already knew that Matador weren’t interested in releasing your next record?

LH: They told us pretty quickly after the release of the last one, Mosaic, that they wouldn’t be able to put out the next one. We spent some time in England and we were hanging out with a few from the Matador office there and got to know them really well. We came back to Australia and we got this email a week after coming back that the office had been closed down and that they just couldn’t afford to keep it running anymore. There were warning signs like that that sort of let us know that they were struggling a little bit. Matador are a part of Beggar’s Group, so they’ve got bosses, and I think a band from Australia just would have been that much of a harder sell. I guess we were probably a little delusional. I think we tried to convince ourselves that we didn’t have to be the next Interpol or whatever to stay on Matador. They’ve got smaller experimental acts on the label. The reality is the smaller bands on there are from Brooklyn or D.C. or whatever, they’re not from Melbourne. So for the amount of money it costs them to give us tour support and things like that, it’s just that much harder. All the bands that we know that do well in the States just tour constantly. So we’d just have to be keeping that up. We did really see some results, I felt like there was momentum building. By the time we did our last tour, there were a lot of audiences coming back to see us, people yelling out for certain songs, and we getting quite good crowds but I just don’t think that was reflected in CD sales, because people aren’t buying CDs as much as they used to. So, it was a tough time to be signed to an overseas label. Given a little bit longer, I think this record would have done a bit better, because the last one was a very raw, live sounding record. If we’d known that Mosaic was going to make or break us on the international level, then, you know…we made that record off our own bat and then Matador decided to pick it up, so we would have asked them for more money to go back and work on it. We were happy with it being a kind of document, as a live, rock, noisy record but we didn’t realise it was going to have those kind of expectations on it. Maybe we should have been less naïve and just got some smaller label to license that record and build it up that way, instead of being thrown in the deep end with someone like Matador. You learn from these things.

DG: You must still be pretty proud though?

LH: Yeah, it was a great achievement and it means we got over there and I think a lot more people know about us now than they would have if we didn’t have that experience. Every time we go back we are getting bigger audiences. It’s great to be able to go somewhere like New York or San Francisco or Boston or D.C. and have an audience there and I think that definitely had something to do with Matador, so there are positives about it.

DG: The aggression that I felt was apparent on your previous releases is less so on Nowhere Forever.

LH: I think that’s also to do with the recording process. Mosaic was eight days, and it was like a live set, and we were playing lots of fast songs. We played them really fast in the recording studio. We came back and listened to the record and were like, “Jesus Christ, we played that so fast.” So that was a product of having limited time and I guess being nervous about recording. And live, those songs were all really fast. The songwriting process for Nowhere Forever was so different. I think we’ve just got better at songwriting, and not every song has to be pedal to the metal. We’ve learned how to write slow songs, songs with different nuances that aren’t always full throttle. I think you need songs like that to make it an interesting experience all the way through.

Love Of Diagrams – Look Out (Right click and save to download)

DG: Also with the lyrics, on Mosaic the lyrics almost became slogans in the way they were structured and in their delivery, but with Nowhere Forever the lyrics seem less direct as well as being more personal in a way.

LH: I think because we were instrumental, we liked that aspect of the band, that songs weren’t overly explained. People had an emotional response to them. I don’t think we’re ever going to be a narrative-lyric driven band. In terms of musical ideas, we like repetition and playing with the dynamics of the repetition of certain things. I think that as a vocal idea, it was something that Antonia liked as well, just playing with a really limited amount of lines but playing with the nuances and dynamics in there. Lines being suggestive of stuff without spelling it out. But that said, I think this time around we tried to stretch our writing as well. Maybe because we spent a bit more time in recording at home, I got a chance to work on the lyrics a bit more. We still like the idea that we’re not spelling out stuff too much. I like things being open to different interpretations and yet not being nonsense lyrics. They mean very personal and often very specific things to us.

DG: When you compare Nowhere Forever to your back catalogue, it becomes apparent how with every subsequent release, you’ve added another layer. Where you started out as quite a sparse, minimal instrumental band you’ve now developed a rather sound-drenched epic style and the vocals have become a more significant factor in the band’s sound. Do you think you’re going to reach a saturation point?

LH: What do you mean?

DG: Well, you’re constantly adding, do you think you’ll keep adding or do you think you’ll reach a point where you’re like, “This is enough. Let’s start reducing, become more reductive.”

LH: Yeah, that’s an interesting way of looking at it, and I think that’s true. Basically I feel like, and a few reviews have sort of pushed this line of us reinventing ourselves…

DG: I don’t really see that as much.

LH: I’m glad you don’t, as I don’t really see that either. I understand where they’re coming from, because if they really only have Mosaic, which was something that we made in 2005, and then we made another record in 2008, of course there’s going to be a progression, we’re going to be exploring different things. For anyone that’s watched us as a live band over those years…

DG: Yeah, that’s what I’ve felt, as I’ve seen that come through in your live shows.

LH: Yeah, it’s a total, natural progression. We didn’t have any kind of ideas of changing our sound. We came home from touring a lot, and then we didn’t do much for a while, so – I record at home – I did home demos and explored sounds, tried different guitar pedals. So once you add these things, it does give a different feel to this material. We wanted to explore different sounds, so it definitely has a lot of new elements and different things we’re exploring, but if you put songs like ‘Lookout’ of this new record next to ‘The Pyramid’ off Mosaic, there isn’t a huge jump in sounds to me. But to answer your question, I guess, yeah, we might decide that we’ve done “wall of sound” guitars now, and we’ve really gone for the layered, textured sound, which was something that I really wanted to pull off. I really wanted to make an album that sounded like an album you’d listen to rather than a document of a live band, so that for me was trying to achieve different types of textures and guitar sounds, different layers. Something that you could listen to repeatedly and hear different stuff in. A lot of my favourite records have lots of guitars and lots of different sounds going on. I think we’re excited in exploring that, so I don’t really know what’s going to happen next. We’re writing a lot of songs and they’re in a similar vein to Nowhere Forever at the moment, but we might be interested in exploring a different dynamic.

For your chance to win a copy of Nowhere Forever just email prize@theblackmail.com.au

More from Love Of Diagrams

Next Article: Rainoff Books: Let It Rain

B Sides

gabe — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:08:07 +0000

Words: Gabriel Knowles Images: Tristan Ceddia & Mark Drew

For those of a certain age the cassette tape can conjure the most emotive of memories. The first album, the mix tapes that made the trip to school bearable or the ones that you thought just might impress that special someone – they all hold a place in our memories. For Mark Drew they aren’t only confined to his memory because he still has all his old tapes, and then some. Gabriel Knowles caught up with designer, curator and some time artist to find out how his tapes are jogging other people’s memories…

Gabriel Knowles: Where did the idea come from to make large scale rendidtions of tapes and exhibit them?

Mark Drew: I’ve had the tapes since they came out, there’s also my brothers and sisters tapes so it’s kind of like my families history. I’ve carried these tapes through every house that i moved to for 15 years. I’ve had them next to my computer while I’ve been working and they’ve really influenced a lot of my graphic design, these 80s and 90s logos. I couldn’t decide what to do with them so I started screen printing and the first print I did was a pile of tapes, then I realised scaling them up by hand looked really good. I think people had kind of forgotten these graphics because everyones music is digital these days, there’d be a generation of kids that have never seen a tape.

GK: I know that you’ve talked of yourself as predominantly a designer who makes art as opposed to an artist. What do you mean by that?

MD: I plan in my head where each element will go and I don’t think an artist would approach it that way but a designer would. I’ve always been making art but I think I was saying I’m more of a designer because it’s a lot more graphic than fine art, it’s the kind of thing that could be on a t-shirt or a print.

GK: Your upcoming show isn’t the first you’ve done of this kind. How has the show developed over time?

MD: It started at Oxford Art Factory on a 25 metre wall and it got a really good response. I’d never thought of it as an art show, being a designer I have an idea and I use an artwork to put an idea out. I’d never done a whole body of work but because every time I went there and I heard people talking about what tapes they had and talking about them. It’s not so much about my work as it is their memories. Their memories are propelling their response.

I started off with 90s rap because that’s what I was into. I’ve got records now because they also fit into the personal music category with graphics that are kid of forgotten.

As an Australian kid in the 90s that’s how you found out about music, you’d spend your $20 on an album and read the liner notes and who they were down with and them thanking their mum for letting them sleep on the couch while they made the album. Back then you’d listen to the same albums over and over again until you wear them out.

GK: Do you remember what your first tape was?

MD: It was Wiggle & Sweat ’91 and I think I bought it because it was a compilation tape. I haven’t done it for a show yet but it’s safe back at my parents house. And my first record was the Ninja Turtles soundtrack!

GK: How many tapes do you have?

MD: A couple of hundred, even if I see a Public Enemy or an Ice Cube tape these days I can’t leave it there and I have to pick it up. It’s kind of weird but I’ve got doubles of quite a few.

GK: I’ve heard you’re a pretty avid all round collector…

MD: I’ve been collecting since day one, all my older brother and sisters stuff got passed down to me and I’ve still got it all. I was really into old video games, the first show I organised was a display of first generation Nintendo’s, Atari’s and Calico Vision stuff. I was really into robot toys too, I’ve been collecting them for about ten years. The tapes are just one part of the obsessive collecting.

GK: For C-90: Side B you’re showing in different space to where you’ve become accustomed to. Do you think this will have an impact of how the show is received?

MD: It’s pretty different to where I’ve shown before, it’s pretty slick. You’re not going to get any splinters in this place. It’s a great opportunity to show my work to more business crowd. I’m expecting that the response will be much the same because anyone over the age of 25 remembers a stack of tapes.

GK: For the last five years you’ve been running the China Heights gallery in Sydney. Do you think that has been quite formative in terms of your personal output?

MD: Well we’ve done that many shows, over 200, and I’ve seen that many artists and techniques that I really know what I like and what I don’t like which is really important. It meant that when it came time for me to do my own show I was prepared. I mean I’m 31 now but when I was 20 I wouldn’t have even thought of being in a show. Nowadays people at that age are having their first art works exhibited. Which is a good and a bad thing, I don’t think there’s as much quality control now though.

A lot of kids these days are bummed when something doesn’t sell because they think something should sell just because they made it. I know when Ed Woodley, who I run the gallery with and I were starting out we wouldn’t dare put something in until it was worth showing to a few hundred people. I think that they should take their work a bit more seriously, it’ll be worth it in the long run.

The opening function for C-90: Side B by Mark Drew is on September 2 at 72 Erskine Gallery, 72 Erskine St Sydney. The show continues until September 5.

Next Article: David Kramer: Family Guys

Fear And Loathing

tristan — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:05:51 +0000

Words: Gabriel Knowles Images: Ben Sullivan

For most of the desert is a barren, thirst inducing and unforgiving environment. Not for photographer Ben Sullivan. From a young age a desert road trip was calling him, he talked about crossing America with his dad and remembers hearing about his mum tearing up the Nullarbor bitumen in a red convertible.

In the end he was so compelled by the desert he had to hit the road from Los Angeles to Las Vegas and see it for himself while having his very own Hunter S. Thompson moment along the way. Minus the drugs.

“I’d always wanted to drive from LA to Vegas after reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. It was kind of different to how I expected, it’s not as desolate as I thought it would be, it’s pretty much a big highway. Most of these photos are taken just off the main highway.”

“LA to Vegas is basically all desert and the light’s totally different. I went in winter and looks like it should be hot and there’s this bright light but it’s totally freezing.”

Ben Sullivan

Next Article: Arnsdorf: And We Love

And We Love…

gabe — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 15:02:08 +0000

Words: Adriana Giuffrida Images: Rene Vaile

You may have heard of a label recently called Arnsdorf. It’s been hard not to notice since her standout debut collection made heads turn at Sydney Fashion Week last year. Jade Sarita Arnott made a very noticeable statement with her strong use of colour and subtle details, leaving girls gasping for a sorbet coloured pair of jeans. Her clothes have a great sense of nostalgia and emotion behind them, adding another level of intrigue to her collections. Each range has a beautiful story behind it, whether it be the perfect suitcase full of clothes, the recreation of a love story or the beauty of an ice skater. Adriana Giuffrida discovers a little bit more about the optimism, risk taking and journey of this exciting label…

Adriana Giuffrida: Tell me about your journey so far, how have you gotten to this point in your career?

Jade Sarita Arnott: I’ve always had a strong emotional connection to clothing and fashion, I studied Creative Arts at VCA and explored visual art, creative writing, film making and art history and supported myself by having my own accessories label. I went overseas after that degree and the following year enrolled in the fashion design degree at RMIT University, I started Arnsdorf the year after I finished.

AG: Was this always what you imagined you would be doing or did you have other ideas when you were younger?

JSA: It was something I dreamt of doing when I was younger but I also imagined other things (like being an artist, writer, filmmaker or a psychologist.) I always thought I’d end up doing something creative, and having the label has allowed me to combine a number of my interests.

AG: Was there a defining moment when you knew you would have your own label, or did it happen gradually for you?

JSA: Seeds were planted gradually over the years but it did feel like a bit of a defining moment, I was sitting in the car waiting for my sister and it all sort of just hit me and it felt as though all the other things I had done had lead me to having my own label and it just made sense. It was an overwhelming feeling of relief as I had always been really anxious about finding what it was I would do as a career. It was after that that I applied to RMIT to gain the skills I needed to do it, but the goal was always to have my own label.

AG: Your designs have been described in the past as very sophisticated and grown-up, do you feel this is an accurate description of your work? How do you feel when people describe your work, do you think sometimes they can interpret?

JSA: I’m flattered by those descriptions and I like the idea of them being sophisticated and grown up but not necessarily that the people wearing them need to already be or feel sophisticated or grown up. From the beginning Arnsdorf has been built on a respect for modern archetypal garments. I love the idea of garments such as the trench coat, leather jacket, cocktail dress, jeans, shirt and tailored pants making up the costumes of our daily lives. I’m drawn to things that have a classical sense but that are put together in new ways, or their traditional form is somehow subverted. I find function an important consideration and it’s about finding that balance of creating something new that also fits in to someone’s life – for me it’s what makes fashion and clothing such an interesting medium to work in.

AG: Your clothing seems to have quite a narrative with each collection, ‘The Last Picture’ collection was based on your parents relationship, was it hard to delve so deeply into your own family memories? Or does it help to have such a strong connection to your inspiration?

JSA: It comes pretty naturally to delve deeply into my own feelings and memories, intimacy is my second nature and I’m a very open person! It definitely helps for me to have a strong connection to my inspiration that works on a number of levels. The collections act as vehicles or costumes for assisting myself and I hope the wearer, will partake in the journey of exploring a certain feeling or idea that feels currently relevant. I love the idea that the garments from my collections find their way into peoples’ lives and become a part of their personal histories and share the intimate moments of their everyday lives.

AG: In your latest range ‘And You Love.’ the colours are very rich and romantic, whereas in the past you have opted for a soft colour palette. Is this a reflection of a bolder approach to your design, or do you find it is a natural progression as your label matures?

JSA: That’s an interesting observation about the colour choices, I hadn’t been completely conscious of the strength of the new colours but the idea behind the And You Love collection is about moving forward and the concept and pursuit of considered danger. It’s about the idea of taking a risk which may seem dangerous, but that is actually more dangerous or risky not to take. They are themes which seem to run through my own life at the moment and seem relevant to the current times. At the same time I began to be drawn to the aesthetics of ice skating costumes and parachuters’ equipment, and then I saw a link between the two, and the ice skaters and parachuters’ actions became metaphors for being pursuits that appeared risky, but on closer inspection would be more so if not undertaken with decisive precision and strength. It was my intention to give the garments these qualities of elegance, fluidity, precision and strength and sort of empower the person wearing the clothes with these elements.

There are elements of my work that I am consciously creating, but there are also elements which I reflect on later. I noticed the other day that even the titles of my collections have become more decisive and strong recently as opposed to past titles like ‘I think I’ll just stay in…’ and ‘I think we could do great things’, so I suppose there is a progression each season and the mood each collection focuses on has a different emotion or idea.

The fabrics I’ve used are combinations of silk mesh, silk georgette and sand washed silks – I’ve referenced the sheer panels and cut out shapes of ice skating costumes and parachute strings are woven through empty sections of dresses in organic linen. Organic linen has been used throughout the collection and has been custom dyed to the new Arnsdorf season’s colour palette of the rich and romantic colours you referred to of pink grapefruit, teal, apricot, midnight and chino.

AG: There is a great sense of optimism within your work, whether it be with colour, or the story you are trying to convey, do you think this helps people to connect with your garments?

JSA: There is an element of optimism that runs through the collections and the label, it began though after the ‘I think I’ll just stay in….’ collection which had a darker tone and was a reflection of how I was feeling at the time – not wanting to go out and face the world. After that I decided instead of the next collection reflecting my current state, I would create the opposite and focus on creating a collection about the state in which I (and I hoped others) would want to be in. So I’ve continued to instill a sense of optimism in my life and in my label.

AG: Is this something you consider, or does it happen quite naturally?

JSA: I think it’s in my nature to be optimistic. Part of it is reflected in the label consciously and part of it is probably what I bring to it unconsciously.

AG: Where are you heading with your next collection? in the past you have used colour as such a strong design feature, do you think you will ever venture into using prints, do you feel a print can convey a message as strongly as you have used colour?

JSA: My next collection is called No One Belongs In My Suitcase More Than You. The concept for the collection is the idea of creating a complete wardrobe, the idea of taking all your belongings in a suitcase for travel or for moving to a new city and having the clothing solutions for all occasions. I’m reading Miranda July’s book No One Belongs Here More Than You at the moment, she’s an artist I’ve admired for a long time, so I’ve referenced her in the title. The colours I’m using are really rich, deep warm colours like burgundy, rouge, a skin base tone, ginger and inks and greys. I’m continuing to refine the pieces to their essential elements, I like the ideas of clean, well thought out lines, that retain warmth. I wouldn’t rule out ever using a print, but at the moment I’m still interested in pursuing the purity of blocks of solid colour.

View Jade’s latest collection at Arnsdorf

Next Article: Brendan Huntley – Forward Thinking