THE WAREHOUSE
Photographed by Alessandra Bertone
THE MAGAZINE FOR SICK & TIRED PRESENTS
THE PRISON ISSUE NOVEMBER 2013
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THEWAREHOUSETEAM.TUMBLR.COM
Photographed by Renan Ribeiro
OUR WISE CHIEF IS HERE
As sad as it was to leave behind the Warehouse and the Warehouse Team, I knew that the ever-flamboyant, seemingly omnipresent, and talented Kevin Holička would find a way to keep me writing and coming back for more. He was indeed successful, due no less in part by his choice of theme for this issue: Prison. For me a prison does not need to be made out of boundaries or metal or guilt or innocence, but rather something intangible - ‘freedom to’ trumps ‘freedom from.’ Therefore, my definition of a prison would be broader than most: a prison can be any person, any situation, or any higher authority which does not accept or enable a person’s positive wants.
OUR WISE CHIEF IS HERE
What that being said, I want to give a telling and final interpretation of what the title of our magazine, the Warehouse, really stands for: Freedom to. The Oxford Dictionary definition of a warehouse is ‘a large building where raw materials or manufactured goods may be stored prior to their distribution for sale.’ In our case, the raw materials are our poems, our pictures, our thoughts, and of course our words. What the first members of the Warehouse thought was missing at Jacobs University Bremen, was a forum which enabled and facilitated creation, no matter how twisted or odd. A warehouse keeps things fresh. A warehouse needs to be filled and replenished, yet the key is indeed in the distribution. Here is where the founders of the Warehouse sought a more active role for the printed arts – one where meetings would take place openly, clubs could interact, and ideas could be built upon and materialize. Always keep your freedom to in front of your freedom from.
Naomi Verbong Roland
The Starks of Winterfell would say: “Winter is coming” At the Warehouse team we would say: “Peitgen is leaving” To be honest, I don’t know which one is worst: The fact that the temperature is dropping drastically or the notion of being abandoned by your very last hope. Like it or not, the sense of leadership in this tiny autonomous enclave has once again been challenged by a series of misunderstandings and bureaucratic drama. In the midst of this limbo however, we are here not to lament the fate of our cappuccino grande and cheer-ups, but rather exploring a series of bizarre confinement of our physical and mental minds. The prison issue is born out of the confusion and restricted grounds that have disillusioned our perception of reality. Perhaps that is why Camus’ Meursault in L’Étranger scrutinises his existentialist crisis while being imprisoned. But does that mean that we have to be prisoners to find out the answer to our very own truth? Why do we become victims of our very own leader who simply neglects his responsibility in times of great need? Is this bubble that we call home a
Photographed by Alessandra Bertone
utopia to some or prison to many?
OUR NEW CHIEF IS HERE
As the new editor-in-chief, I am representing the voices of amazing talents aiming for a better understanding of our world through photographs, poems, and artworks. As the only independent magazine on campus, the Warehouse will always and forever be free of any influence from any institution. The prison issue compliments the current critical situation that we are facing on campus while bringing our readers (hopefully) a sense of escape from the ongoing prisons: Our vanity Our responsibilities Our insecurities Our fears There is no right or wrong in any work that is being published here. It is simply a chain of reflections that surrounds the term prison itself. Prison is comparable to a series of traps. But in every trap, there will always be a way out. Let us hope Peitgen’s trap does bring us a real hero who would save us from this prison.
Kevin Holicka
k.holicka@jacobs-university.de http://kholicka.tumblr.com
OUR NEW CHIEF IS HERE
Photographed by Alessandra Bertone
GABRIELA CONSTANTIN-DURECI CREATIVE EDITOR Prison as imposed captivity of one person's autonomy. As incarceration of both rights and obligations; of both morals and transgressions. Of the mind and body. Prison as an inherited practice of both torture and release. Prison is the restricted space which encloses someone’s spirit. Their freedom circumscribes to its openness. However, the richness of the spirit is never to be restricted by the prison’s borders. The mind can overflow any boundaries. Prison as release of the entrapped self.
VIVIAN URQUIDI BEAUTY EDITOR
Prison to me is an archaic concept as well as a broad spectrum of erasure. It involves the denial of identity, the rejection of patience, and the avoidance of empathy. Prison is equal parts suffocating and confining, voraciously consuming the time one has at hand and thus breeding an innate desire in people for release.
Photographed by Alessandra Bertone
HAUKE ZIESSLER MUSIC EDITOR
A confining space created to take away the freedom of those who were deemed as rulebreakers in society. The absence of freedom being seen as a consequence deemed fit to punish perpetrators of a crime.
JULIA PSILITELIS MANAGING EDITOR
A physical or legal restrictions of personal freedom. A correctional facility or penitentiary, it follows a diverse set of goals. As a closed space it is inescapable. One's freedom is compromised. One cannot decide for oneself anymore. All synonyms evoke negative connotations.
Photographed by Renan Ribeiro
MUSIC REVIEW: WOODKID
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THE DIVIDE & CURSE THE ELEMENTS
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! SWORN VIRGINS ! JULIA PSILITELIS: A COLLAGE ! THE RUN AWAY ! GENO VILLAFANO ! FOLLOW ALICE! ! ZUKA BABUNASHVILI !
! 18 ! 22 ! 24 ! 26 ! 32 ! 36 !
HAUKE VS PRISON
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PAST ISSUES
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! MUTIA RACHMI ! 19 HOURS IN EAST LONDON ! BODYLOGUE ! NDIATÉ CISSÉ ! TRAILER !
! 45 ! 48 ! 50 ! 64 ! 65 !
CONTRIBUTORS FOUNDER Naomi Verbong Roland Valentina Uribe Restrepo
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EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Kevin Holicka
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MANAGING EDITOR Julia Psilitelis CREATIVE EDITOR Gabriela Constantin-Dureci
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BEAUTY EDITOR Vivian Urquidi MUSIC EDITOR Hauke Ziessler
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PHOTOGRAPHY Alessandra Bertone Geno Villafano Karanjit Singh Renan Ribeiro Zuka Babunashvili
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WORDS Dianna Bautista Jeppe Ugelvig Kristina Alushi Owen Gurrey
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ARTWORK Mutia Rachmi
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COVER Ndiaté Cissé
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LAYOUT & DESIGN Kevin Holicka
WWW.THEAREHOUSETEAM.TUMBLR.COM
Photographed by Alessandra Bertone
The Grandeur of the moment arises and a glorious mixture of brass and organs mix together with an oh-sosoothing melody. A melody that is eery, melancholic yet somehow brings out freedom. The Golden Age by Woodkid is his debut LP and one could say that it all starts of with a bang. That is if one ignores the select few singles he released beforehand out of his cage of insanity intended to entice the senses. His name is originally Yoann Lemoine and he is actually known as
WOOD
a talented music video director for the likes of Kate Perry and Taylor Swift. This being, In my eyes, an accomplishment that I would not be proud of, but his amazing debut makes up for this. Combined with the thumping drumming, the music videos and their perfected nature,
HAUKE Z PRES
one can see the eye of detail that existed behind this project.
www.woodkid.com
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This is what music should be! A man who has done much with his life but decides to release an album for the joy in it. Perhaps I contradict the online critics who give this album a mere 4 or 6 out of 10 and perhaps the review is hugely one sided. But that is the beauty of it. As I write this in the beat to a soothing piano crisscrossed by woodkid’s woody textured singing, I realise that this is the beauty in music. Some may
DKID
understand why this album is a masterpiece that deserves a place in my record collection while others shake their head in disbelieve. So where do we go from here? Well just bend open the iron bars of your musical prison, lay back with “Iron” seeping through the minute holes in
ZIESSLER SENTS
your speaker and experiment; because then Woodkid is not the only one.
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KRISTINA ALUSHI PRESENTS
Photographed by Karanjit Singh
SWORN VIRGINS Controversies between men and women; talks about rights and equality; fights over what and who is wrong! And I ‌ I am just sitting here in a corner, crumbled up thinking about how ignorant we all are. Let me tell you a little story. 18
In a land far away, there lived a king:
They had nobody, because blood
King Leke Dukagjini of Albania. This
feuds buried in the cold ground the
king had his own rules called the Kanun.
males in the family, because they had
These rules were not guided by religion
no rights in the society, because they
as you might think, they applied to
had no work, because they could not
everyone. There are stories telling that a
smoke, because they could not vote,
father killed his own daughter after
because they could not possess a
finding she was not a virgin; the brother
gun; because they were females!
in law killed the husband of his sister; all
Someone had to take the lead;
in the name of Kanun. Even today some
someone had to be the man in the
of them are still in power in the Northern
family and these women found a way
Albania.
out of misery: they became sworn
In the Kanun is written “Woman is a sack
virgins.
made to endure! A girl has no say in
By taking an oath in front of 12 elderly
their marriage and this is the right of her
men in their societies they were then,
brothers and cousins. Girls cannot marry
no matter how absurd it sounds now,
men from other religions.”
men! After their oath they were
They served as good slaves of men, fulfilling their desires and making them proud with male children.
allowed to smoke and drink and work and carry guns and converse with other men! Now they had rights! Now they could provide for their children or
Sometimes because they thought of the
their mothers or sisters! Prisoners of
“crime” of being free, many women
their own bodies, they gave up who
around the 15th – 20th century turned
they were, they completely stripped
into Burrnesha. Burrnesha comes from
off their selfishness for some respect
the word “male” (burr) and the ending is
that today we take by default.
just an indicator that they were females in some other time, some other land. Women could turn into men under 2 circumstances: if there was no other male in the family or because they broke a wedding oath. Albania is known for its family feud tradition, therefore in order to avoid these feuds, women would become sworn virgins with no right to act as women ever again and never get married.
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They were not weak, mind me! They were real fighters and proud of whom they were. They cut their hair and changed their clothes and names and swore of celibacy. Even their gestures suggested they were men. Even when they talk about themselves and tell stories from their childhood, they refer to themselves as “he”.
They became what the society wanted them to be. Now, there are less than 20 sworn virgins left in Albania. These women beat the odds, managed to find a way out of their misery and they did it with pride and confidence. In some way, they got rid of all the prejudice that surrounded the female body and mind; they never had to worry about love or children and they lived a free life among men. But we, what do we do today in order to be equal? What is the price we have to pay? We are being guided by the masses like sheep going to the slaughter and we are given the illusion of choice. We, the great minds of today’s culture, are driven by the lust of being always right, of knowing always what is best for others and we forget how we got here and how many wars we fought. Instead of crying over spilled milk we need to find a way to clean it. We have to be strong and independent and find solutions no matter how hard they may be; we owe that much to our grandparents who lived in harsher times! Make a change in you and live as if nobody else is watching, because when you will be old and wrinkly what will matter will be the peace of mind and being satisfied with who you are and how you have lived your life, IF you have lived any of it!
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JULIA PSILITE
ELIS PRESENTS
DIANNA BAUTISTA PRESENTS
Photographed by Geno Villafano
THE RUN AWAY
We All Fall Down
!
How are you he asks “Tired... Just tired.” What do you feel he asks “Cold... Just cold” Who are you he asks No response
!
We fight this battle We fight till we reach top
!
But we succumb to our desires We fall at the hands of time With empty hands and our windowed selves Divorced from our lives A shadow of a person, With only our blood to remind us that we are alive But dry blood doesn't flow, And blood lost doesn't return
!
We torture ourselves in hopes to remember In hopes of becoming Who we were Or discovering what we want
!
But the light at the end flickers for only a moment Shot down by the stress Reduced by our disappointments Its relief is brief, And then it's gone
!
And so we land, Here, in this world full of fighting And continue to run away from ourselves And towards nothingness.
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GENO VILLAF
FANO PRESENTS
Prison saves a place for ones that wanted to leave town.
!
It stays the thoughts and twiddlemoves of soft and nervous minds.
!
It brings to ones that static sit less motive to move on.
!
It folds on up all paper worked towards solving what's gone wrong.
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GABRIELA CONSTANTIN-DURECI PRESENTS
FOLLOW ALICE! “Down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again” (Lewis Carol)
! Alice entered Wonderland by accident. And then, she was trapped, trying to find her way out. It was not her wish that got her to Wonderland, but her doing. Nobody pushed her down the Photographed by Zuka Babunashvili
rabbit´s hole; she let herself go into a place she did not know. And she ended up being imprisoned in a reality she did not belong to. But she found pleasure in it. She found that which she could not find where she had come from, that which her world lacked. She found lust for living. For imprisonment. Freedom within confinement. That sense of autonomy that one cannot encounter without boundaries.
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Even when it is too much. Even if it
But that´s not what I am writing about.
overpowers you. No one can resist
God damn it, if I only I knew what I
the rush of adrenaline that pumps
was going to write about. You see, it
through your body the moment you
is darn hard for me to know it. Some
are imprisoned. The moment you
people know it from the beginning.
know the boundaries you have set
For me, it has never been like that.
will not let you move any further.
The moment I start writing
When you know that imprisonment
considering the idea of writing, I get
has set you free.
immersed into a doubtful state of self-
The same way Houdini sought imprisonment throughout his life. It brought him joy. Passion. Freedom. The escapes were requiems for that which could only be ephemeral elation, for the self-sufficiency he encountered in his fabricated prisons. Requiems for something he wished he could have back. Because, after finding the way out of Wonderland, we all want to go back. Back to a place of self-abandonment. Back to the prisons we wish we could call home. *** But, then again, I am as usual too ambiguous. I do not know where I picked this habit from. Nobody actually writes like that. People Writers People want to send their message out to the world. That´s what makes all this freedom of
understanding. I am an ambiguous writer precisely because I am an ambiguous thinker. *** But this was not my point! I intended to write about freedom and imprisonment and about me wanting to dive into Wonderland***. I will go back to the beginning. It all comes down to that: making the best out of the beginning. That´s what will matter at the end of the day. The ending might be great, grandiose even, but can one be sure of that? Should one risk a great beginning for fear of not being able to have a pleasant ending? *** Why am I still doing this? Letting myself go… I will go back once more. ***
expression fixation so popular, by the way. That it stimulates people to step outside their prison cell* and let the guard´s torch light upon them**.
*Please read as: regular behavior! **Again, my fellow readers, read as: (momentarily) been cast under the spotlight, receiving some sort of attention from the outer world.!
I could never fully understand it. Why
My mind lives in a nice assembled
is everybody so enamoured by the
prison, within the larger confinement of
idea of being free? What is there to it?
the rules and norms I deem appropriate
I am not talking here about the physical imprisonment/freedom, but about that of the mind. Why is, then, freedom so sought for? I could never understand it. I would never want to step outside the prison I have elevated around my mind; I couldn´t. I shouldn´t! Don´t mock me; I have tried it indeed. When you hear all those wonderful things about freedom, you instantly want to try it. But now I know I shouldn´t. And maybe I should never have done it in the first place.
for myself. I don´t know what moderation is; I am not able to know when to stop, nor when to start. My days are a continuum of doubting and questioning myself. Moving from one side to the other. Without a stop. Without ever finding the middle ground. That´s what freedom does to me: it lets me wander into the darkest place my mind could ever go to; it lets me slip into states that are so harmful that the only way I see of getting out is to deepen myself into them even more. Till I reach the end, till I start hoping to find that light everybody talks of, at the end
It´s like a drug. You know you shouldn´t
of the tunnel. But there is no light in
try it but you have your first shot with it
freedom; only flickers that fade away.
and then more occasions seem to be
And that´s when I know I have to go
coming along and you end up doing it
back. Back to my prison, to my
again and again, trapped in a routine
confinement. To my sense of self, to my
of apathy, though you know you
peace.
started off by promising yourself to do it only once and then go back to your regular self. Freedom is my drug. It hooks me, makes me lose perspective. The lacking of boundaries makes me go so far away from my own self that I get lost. Freedom hurts me. It buries me under a pile of things I wish to keep away from myself.
That´s why I like need imprisonment: it brings me back to where I started from; to a version of myself I do not have to restrict. Imprisonment elevates me; it brings upon me that sense of autonomy I am looking for. The boundaries I set for myself take me higher, help me orientate in the haziness the world surrounds me with.
! ***See how easy it was for me to slip? To go down the way of unnecessary digression? Writers should stop doing that! They should just convey their message and then keep to themselves all of those pseudo auctorial phobias they have. But why can´t I do that then?! Just because I like being trapped, just because I like imprisonment and I would never choose freedom over it? Is that my downfall?...!
It may be made-up, it may not have any relevance whatsoever for my future. I know all of that! But I really do not want to risk having a proper beginning just because the ending is too uncertain. *** I am not even sure of what I am doing. Did I manage to find an ending to it? I feel trapped again between wanting to let go and knowing there is more to it. I haven´t reached the ending yet. I still need to slide a couple more times down that rabbit´s hole, into Wonderland, and search for the rush of adrenaline that imprisonment lets me have.
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ZUKA BABUNASHVILI PRESENTS
Prison: A black and white photograph with no clear focus point.
I started taking photos when I brought my ancient Zenit with me to my trip to Paris. Working with film was strange, but entertaining. After that I try to bring at least one camera to wherever I go (mostly film) and shoot whatever I find interesting.... and it's not just about shooting something or someone. It's about shooting an idea which is present at the moment. This idea may be of total chaotic substance, or classical conceptual symbolism.
!
It works only when I see a vision which I have at the moment (or had) through my lens.
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Photographed by Renan Ribeiro
OWEN GURREY PRESENTS
THE DIVIDE & CURSE THE ELEMENTS
THE DIVIDE
! !
It all comes down to the games we play: the pitch and territories scored, the rules established, the limits drawn; do you want to play? being one of the things we all say.
!
Cat and mouse, foxes and hounds, cops and robbers, sons and daughters. It’s the same whichever way you play or it couldn’t have always been this way.
!
Escapees bound for all directions, Hyenas licking a giddy pace. Scram, scarper, leg it, abandon, before the shout: I’m coming to get you
!
and the hairs stand on end for what’s about to happen. Now it’s us and them, no more you and you, strong hands hold weak and we’re all in step. It’s each according to his need and all hands on deck.
!
Then in sunset glimpsed from the lockup, the last one to flee is cut down. The big boys come to take the ball and the game becomes real, once, and for all.
!
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CURSE THE ELEMENTS
! ! !
How masterful the eccentric laws how governance wasted centuries how the wood bemoaned the steel and the pitch became arena-drome.
!
How the wall encircled the wealthy and the glass obscures the vista how the car sped through the mountain and space became a number.
!
How tar is bubbling like soda how neat the packaging of oil how vast the plains of livestock and animals mince beyond protest.
!
How the ministries stole your money how the weeds burst the tennis courts how every field and grain was weighed and fed in to worthless pockets.
!
How we bulldoze old platforms how soon the new buildings age how a refurbished past is laundered and the museums house amnesia.
Photographed by Renan Ribeiro
How it all became a parcel for a birthday how gorged the man in his Cadillac how God has now to prove himself and a date bulbed a source of pride.
! !
How a game was once a terror-blitz how the Saxons are all to blame how respect turned in to hatred and a culture birthed a masochist.
!
How singled out the crowd became how lost the billion dispossessed how the contract bullets the pact and it’s all done and dusted in a deal.
How the sociopath got his glory how the wretched pine for justice how the deadlines were extended and the tubs thump for progress.
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! I relate myself differently to the concept of prison than the others. I find comfort in finding myself trapped. In knowing that there are some boundaries I have to, I need to stick to. It´s not at all a masochist feeling; nothing pleasurable comes out of entrapping yourself in the strings of selfcontrol in order to gain autonomy. It takes over tough. This sense of distorted freedom, this liberation of the mind through the imprisonment of the self; it is all overpowering.
! ! I do not perceive prison like the rest: I can´t grasp its limitations, its irrelevance…It all makes sense to me. But I will not judge for the others, because I know my view is askew. So, I beg of you, anyone, everyone…Do me the favor of escaping, of liberating yourself. Do it! Do it and wave at me from a far!
! ! I´ll be greeting you from behind the metal bars…
AN ANONYMOUS LETTER 42
HAUKE VS PRISON
Freely trapped.
So there I stand shivering with anticipation as the officer takes a
As I step out of mankind’s metal flying
quick uninterested glance at my
cage. After 10 hours of entrapment
passport. I have made it into the land
next to a fat smelly Russian, I finally
of honey and milk. A land where one
breathe in the air of freedom. I have
can sit in a dark gloomy park alone
escaped. I have finally left the bubble
and not be riddled with fear. A place
extravagantly built up through society’s
where the average 20 year old does
Photographed by Alessandra Bertone
fear and paranoia. Free from a
not own a car but uses all other
country’s mental prison. ‘One does not
alternatives of transport. The
walk through town at night especially
excitement about this still exists even
when alone as one may be brutally
today but it has been blunted and
attacked and hacked to pieces with an
dumbed down. The shiny glistening
axe only to get your cellphone’. Some
idealistic picture sandpapered into
truth? Perhaps, self-fulfilled prophecy?
dull nothingness.
I am close to 99% sure of it.
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Here another fear exists a fear that is
I do not want to start a revolution of F
more restricting more imprisoning
%&$ing the system: While vandalizing
and more difficult to remove. Like a
and destroying society’s structure. But
tick it slowly sucks away the blood of
I do want to question it. Fear is the
freedom without you noticing. The
hindrance of mankind. Fear is what
fear of breaking the law or even
holds society back. Fear of being the
worse the FEAR OF BREAKING THE
black sheep or failing is the reason
SOCIAL NORM! Germany is ruled by
why many succumb and do not take
its intricate laws.
the effort of standing above the confines of society.
There is a law for anything you can think of. You want to have a casual
Be yourself don’t let society dictate
campfire in your yard? Not possible
what or who you are. But do this in a
without going through a perfectly
manner that one does not destroy the
structured protocol. Through living in
liberty and freedom of others. Man is
this system there is a fear of stepping
fearful and this cannot be removed.
over the set boundaries. This has
But is it necessary to restrict and
developed to an extent that social
confine in an attempt to stop the
norms and laws are becoming blurred
inevitable anxiety. There is a solution.
into a mass that one can only
It is summed up perfectly by one
detangle with time and extensive
phrase that should be a life motto:
work.
You got to risk it to get the biscuit!
Now don’t get me wrong social
So with no further to do I invite you to
norms are important and I am all for
join the movement. Open the prison
respecting your elders and opening
cell of society and jump into the
the door for a lovely Mrs. It is when I
fountain of life.
am told to keep quiet because I am in a park or I get a fearful question “are we aloud?” when I jump into a public fountain. This is the point where I think: Wait! Backup a bit. I thought these laws are supposed to bring freedom?
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THE WAREHOUSE PRESENTS
MUTIA RACHMI
WHY
!
Indonesia has inspired my work through its magnificent nature. I use product design as my basic knowledge to create new Ideas in my artworks. At the same time, I am highly interested in analysing social culture around myself. My biggest achievement would be my mastery in several techniques using watercolor and clay. Yet, as a Bamboo enthusiast, My current goal is to built my own Bamboo workshop.
! WORK !
I am presenting prison into a new shape of cell. It is transformed into the smallest confinement. We are carrying it everyday unconsciously. If technology has controlled us, then we should be the one to control it. Although it is not a crime, excessive usage of technology, especially smartphones, can be harmful to us.
!
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JEPPE UGELVIG PRESENTS
19 HOURS IN EAST LONDON FRIDAY
!
6pm The last bit of autumn light disappears behind the skyscrapers of Liverpool Street as I exit an overcrowded Central Line tube at Bethnal Green. I’m in a hurry, as the gallery opening already 20 minutes ago and I wouldn’t want to miss the 10-or-so bottles of free champagne, bought to compliment the art at the mediocre East London gallery. As I s p e e d - w a l k t h ro u g h a c ro w d o f commuters in suits, I go over the clothes I brought in my bag, the clothes I’m wearing and the clothes of my friend’s closet, as I haven’t had time to change. Would it be dull to wear something black and draped like last weekend? Are silk-shirts totally passé already? I have to come up with a new yet intellectual look soon.
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7:30pm The last drops of sparkling wine have been consumed during the last hour of socializing with art personalities, nightlife posers and a few genuine people, and I leave with my friends to have dinner. I learned that T is back from Montreal where he shot a documentary, that U lost her job at Louis Vuitton and that B is still dealing coke next to his West London office job. As always, I try present myself to the halffamiliar faces as effortlessly sociable, cool and sympathetic. We buy a few bottles in a Bangladeshi store on the way, and while tonight’s host prepares his Coq au Vin I change and shake up a few Espresso Martinis.
!
10:45pm What was supposed to have been casual dinner and pre-drinks with the closest circle has now turned into a genuine house-party. Lovers, friend-emies, colleagues, class
-mates, clubbing-friends and exboyfriends, they’re all here because of one shared interest; tonight. Two friends are hosting two different parties at two different underground clubs; we’re on the guest list for both and one closes at 6am, which is exceptionally late for the generally restricted London scene. Everyone dresses as if they live in Berlin, speak as if in New York and dance as if in Barcelona. Many years of mingling are proving their worth as I smoothly maneuver around, chatting to some and avoiding others, constantly with an eye on who goes to the bathroom when; I know who has what and if they are sharing. The bitter taste under my lip mixes with my double gin tonic.
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SATURDAY 1am I realize I’m tipsy as we arrive at the first club on Kingsland Road. I kiss a few people hello and try to make an impression of the party. Some people head straight to the bathroom, but at this point no one keeps track anymore. People look energetic and completely aware of themselves, a constant reflection in each others’ attitude, tone, way of moving. I try to copy while maintaining my own social appearance; a long set of behaviors practiced and rehearsed since I was very young. On the dance-floor, poppers are sent around in the group and together we evaporate for 20 seconds to the sound of German minimal house.
!
4am Grab friends, coats on, quick exit and change of scenery. We down a small bottle of vodka on the pavement and enter the other club. I enter a world of sweaty bears in tank tops, hysterical fag hags in bras only, straight guys with
expanded pupils and all the other creatures of the night. In the men’s bathroom people are queuing up at the only lockable cubicle, while the four urinals remain untouched. A drunk newcomer verbalizes this observation in a loud and joking manner. His joke is met with deadserious eyes, clearly saying “shut it”.
!
6:30 Bouncers impatiently direct us to the exit, indicating the end of the party. The sun is rising but we’re not done; we wait in silent coordination until T, a British Vogue photographer with a liking for MdMA, agrees to open up his penthouse for the after-party. I casually walk with the newly proclaimed host, trying to portray genuine interest in his mid-life crisis. We all stock up on alcohol in the nearby kiosk and make our way up the elevators. It seems absurd to see people going to work and doing their groceries. Glasses, music, speakers, lighter, cigarette; where were we?
!
1pm The sun has been up for several hours, but we are still clinging on to the night, standing as the playground for social flexibility and liberty. I clench as I look around the room inhabited by urban peacocks. In the middle of a very in-depth conversation with a stranger about the function of psychoanalysis in post-colonial countries, I suddenly get overwhelmed with an immense feeling of fatigue. As I look around, everyone suddenly seems ugly, desperate, lost in this big city. We have spent the last 12 hours together, yet we are as private and closed off as ever. I quickly decide that I’m not one of them, pick up my jacket and leave without saying goodbye. I don’t, because I know we’re going to do all of it again next weekend; my bittersweet prison of vanity, populism and a whole lot of fun. 49
! DIRECTED BY Kevin Holicka Vivian Urquidi
! PHOTOGRAPHED BY Alessandra Bertone
! WORDS BY Vivian Urquidi
BODYLOGUE: BEHIND THE BARS OF OUR BONES
The moment we feel encaged by our own
It is our existential right to determine who
limbs, imprisoned by layers of flesh, fat,
we are and want to be. What isn’t okay is
and hair, the random blemish and the
to feel obligated to succumb or appeal to
perhaps-not-so-random scar, should
some contrived notion of who you must
instigate immediate self-clemency.
be in order to be attractive/acceptable/of any consequence. Consequences are
Oh, let there be clemency and the re-
what we are faced with if we don’t stand
claiming of ourselves in all respects, says I.
our ground and re-define the western
Let us re-evaluate the standards we are
hegemonic ideals of “beauty” we so
using to determine our self-worth and
passively come to accept as fact.
seize the fact that, at the end of the day, our bodies are ours alone and we are the
This is where the Body Positivity/
masters of them.
Acceptance movement comes in. The founding mothers of this movement were
I think the expectation that people should
the original advocates of fat-feminism in
be immune to an “affliction” such as self-
the 1960’s which suffered a dip during the
judgment or, in more extreme scenarios,
80’s massive “fitness” popularisation but
loathing, is naïve and unfair. Few things,
rekindled itself in the 90’s alongside the
other than full-frontal hatred, are more
zine and the problematic Rriot Grrrl
hurtful than the abrupt denial of our
movements. This all culminated in the
experience. The blasé “but you’re so
2000’s with the introduction of an active
pretty”, or the ever favourite “there is
and accessible blogosphere and a series
more to life than your looks / beauty is in
of books being written concerning, as
the eye of the beholder,” or the most
Linda Bacon put it, “health at every size”.
ridiculous “beauty is only skin-deep /
Body acceptance is not a new fad and
good looks fade” are not only vacuous
thus there are countless projects out there
non-statements – they are a waste of
that go far beyond any mainstream rag
everyone’s time. And it is time, countless
could ever hope to achieve with their
waking hours we spend fidgeting and
limited range of “diversity” (is there even
rummaging about to sort ourselves and
a range?). Merely typing in body positivity
mould ourselves to fit a certain arbitrary
on Google leads to a friendly internet
and fictitious, might I add, standard of
haven of people working their way to
what at the moment is beautiful.
being happy both mentally and physically
It is okay to not be okay; okay with
with themselves. But that’s exactly the
yourself, how you look, who you are. It’s all
problem. Unless you are actively
part of the changes and growth we will all
searching for alternative media the
experience for the remainder of our lives.
chances of being exposed to it can be almost negligible.
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A e s t h e t i c a l l y, t h i s s h o o t w a s
and rainbows, it means to be at ease in
predominately inspired by the works of
regards to dealing with oncoming
Man Ray and Bill Brandt: simple,
problems you may encounter and to be
disjoined body parts shot from unusual
able to have an open and honest dialogue
angles, all in black and white. However,
with yourself about them. It is as much a
I wanted to focus on aspects beyond
mental state of well-being as a physical
those covered by historical body
state.
positivity and venture into uninhibited body liberation. I admit I did not get to have the level of diversity I had initially aimed for. This frustrated me at first, not because people backed out of the project but because I had expected them not to. I also wanted to keep it under wraps as much as possible to avoid any form of rapid third-party verbal miscommunication (read as: gossip) since I didn’t want the reader to be negatively primed to the idea of this piece. Nonetheless, the final result, albeit small in scope, I feel really manages to encompass the qualities of interest and uniqueness that can by evoked if you just look at bodies a little differently.
We are smothered by myths disguised as fact whenever we attempt to explore the topic of physical attractiveness and wellbeing. Medical myths such as using BMI values to gauge someone’s health, or even worse, calling out on people merely because of their weight are clear examples of a society that has been successfully poisoned by manufactured marketing ploys. What is even more problematic are institutionalized bodies of science, such as the health industry, which despite the assumed objectiveness can be readily influenced by the hegemonic culture that governs it, i.e. the west. From an ethnobiological point of view it is important to criticize what have become a priori axioms of human nature. A famous example would
I had some of the models approach
be the notion of an ideal waist to hip ratio
me after the shoot to tell me that they
(WRT) as an indicator of health and fertility.
had had an unexpectedly great time,
A particular study (Yu and Shepard, 1998)
that they had felt comfortable and safe
was done comparing an isolated and more
and that is kind of the holy grail of
integrated variant of the Matsigenka
body-acceptance is it not? To feel
people in Peru regarding the attractiveness
comfortable and safe in and with our
of different WTR values. It was found that
own bodies
the highly isolated group preferred higher
Being happy with yourself doesn’t mean to not find fault or to stagnate in a perpetual loop of sunshine -
ratios as signs of strength and fertility whereas the more integrated group still considered the higher ratios as more fertile but the lower ratios as more beautiful.
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Studies and observations like this neither
should not feel compelled to being
prove nor disprove the biological validity
ashamed of themselves just because they
of these hegemonic values, however they
don’t satisfy normative notions of beauty.
should suffice as groundwork for
They should not be afraid of enjoying
expansion into in-depth cross-cultural
who they are and how they look. They
analyses of these assumptions as they
should not be denied the struggle of
exclude vast segments of women from
learning to love themselves. So,
this beauty paradigm. As noted by JT
remember:
Manning in 1999, "we need more crosscultural studies to show that what is true in Westernized societies is also true in traditional groups”. Also, it is not too farfetched to postulate that this hierarchical separation of women, this time on biological grounds, is yet another means to justify patriarchal values and behaviour.
Your body is not a prison, it is your home.
! Note: I invite whoever is interested to join me in what may become a long term project of Bodylogue wherein we can not only expand the photo shoot but share opinions and experiences all within the
Which brings us to the main goal of this
safe-haven of anonymity. Please don’t
project: Bodies need to be celebrated.
hesitate to contact me with questions or
They are our sole vehicle for experience,
qualms and don’t forget to participate
for life - all bodies are, be they fat or slim
alongside the FQEA in our up and
or tall or small or able or disabled they
coming Body Image campaign.
are all we’ve got as a means to sense and perceive. It is brave to explore this
http://bodylogue.tumblr.com
dialogue with willingness and honesty since so often weight and looks are a starting point for mockery, for discrediting someone’s ideas or work, and used as a quirk, detriment, or obstacle, that someone is forced to deal with. Bodies should not be dismissed, the topic of physical attractiveness should not be avoided or skimmed through, and the relationship between physical and mental health should not be ignored. Individuals-
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THE WAREHOUSE PRESENTS FULL NAME Ndiaté Cissé
!
HEIGHT 174 cm
!
NATIONALITY Senegalese
!
DATE OF BIRTH July 19th
WHAT DOES PRISON MEAN TO YOU?
!
For me prison is not only about huge grey buildings and endless fences but also about having the impression to be mentally restrained (i.e one could feel like in a prison just by participating in a conversation in which he/she is restrained in his/her ability to express him/herself.
! WHY DID YOU AGREE TO BE ON THE COVER? !
It was an opportunity to experience something new and I had the feeling that it was a personal challenge.
! HOW CAN YOU EMBODY PRISON? !
I think to certain past experiences in which I felt like I was imprisoned in my own body. I knew that I would be able to dive again into those emotions I felt back then and use them to physically express the state of mind of an imprisoned women (both in a physical and mental way).
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