HYPEBEAST Magazine Issue 32: The Fever Issue

WORDS BY ZACH

SOKOL

Artificial intelligence anxiety, dopamine-driven feedback loops, doom scrolling, and other trappings of modern life are omnipresent to the point of banality. However, these characteristics have led to culture production feeling so fast, overwhelming, and cynical that it’s dizzying. We have whiplash from how artists and brands share their work, as well as “content nausea” from the unrelenting social platforms required to grow and maintain an audience.

The ways in which the technological zeitgeist influences the distribution and consumption of art and culture can inspire a feverish, contagious sensation. Side effects may include an emphasis on quantity over quality, pressure to be the loudest in the echo chamber, and the desire to mimic trends that have “worked,” rather than trying to experiment or do something novel. Our reality also pushes people to create and ingest at a feverish pace, even if it’s detrimental to the art itself. There’s a pressure to be frantic, almost hysterical, in our fandom or knowledge of a given subject or subculture, as well as an intractable itch to stand out. Simultaneously, there’s less time and resources available to achieve these goals in an authentic and nuanced way.

This creative malaise affects us all, but there are methods for developing artistic antibodies. For some, this means embracing the speed, chaos, and whirlwind of the present. For others, correctives take shape by inverting certain norms, such as rejecting release schedules, press opportunities, social media promotion, or even an online presence entirely. These iconoclasts may defy expectations through left-field collaborations, eschew the idea of “high” or “low” brow, and operate in a distinct way that’s counterintuitive to the status quo. These are folks who march to the beat of their own drum, and do things anachronistically or idiosyncratically.

In this issue, we’re spotlighting artists and creators who welcome the fever, as well as those who stand in opposition to it. While it may sometimes seem like there’s no escape from the harsher qualities of 2023, the emerging talent and established luminaries in the following pages underscore that things can be done differently. Their work and approach to artistry can serve as a panacea, an inspiration, and a path towards a more ebullient and downright interesting future.

EDITORIAL DIRECTOR

Kevin Wong

GUEST EDITOR

Zach Sokol

ART DIRECTOR

Vasun Pachisia

FEATURES EDITORS

Ross Dwyer, Shawn Ghassemitari

GRAPHIC DESIGNERS

Franny Fuller, Phuong Le

EDITORIAL OPERATIONS DIRECTOR

Marc Wong

EDITORIAL COORDINATORS

Samantha Su, Crystal Yu

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

Amelia Abraham, Navi Ahluwalia, Kirsten Chen, Dylan Kelly, Joyce Li, Julius Oppenheimer, Jon Rafman, Noah Rubin, Taylor Sprinkle, Shyan Zakeri

CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS

Kemka Ajoku, Dohyun Baek, Angel Delgado, Max Durante, Christian Filardo, Clare Gillen, Othello Grey, Kalil Justin, Abhishek Khedekar, Michael Kusumadjaja, Eddie Lee, Maya Margolina, Peter Martin, Corey Olsen, Freddie Randal, Justin Sariñana, Nayquan Shuler

CONTRIBUTING STYLISTS/MAKEUP ARTISTS

Nina Carelli, Ariane Kayla, Destroy Lonely, Joe Van Overbeek, Aidan Palermo, Nica Tan, Whitney Whitaker

CONTRIBUTING DESIGNERS

Ikhoor Studio, David Wise

SPECIAL THANKS

Yuki Abe, Courtni Asbury, Sasha Camacho, James Chae, Jacob Davey, Justin Goldberg, Joe Gonzalez, Alexander Ho, Gabriella Koppelman, Drew Millard, Alice Morby, Bentley Nwalupue, Orienteer (Nick, Duncan, Bradley, Kevin), Max Pearl, Elizabeth Renstrom, Elana Staroselsky, Maritza Yoes

FOUNDER

Kevin Ma

ADVERTISING

Huan Nguyen, USA

Steven Appleyard, EMEA

Tiff Shum, APAC

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Timepieces by Audemars Piguet + 1017 ALYX 9SM

Matthew Williams has developed a singular design language through his work at 1017 ALYX 9SM and Givenchy. His visual philosophy embraces a style that’s both pared-back and intensely technical, with a knack for highlighting the most luxurious elements of his creations. This ethos is on full display across the 1017 ALYX 9SM x Audemars Piguet collection. The offering marks the Swiss watchmaker’s first collaboration with a fashion designer, and consists of four models—two Royal Oak watches and two Royal Oak Offshore editions—featuring details like a vertical satin-finished dial pattern and a subtle lack of subdial markings. Besides the four retail release watches, Williams and AP created a one-off model made of 18-carat yellow gold and stainless steel that was auctioned off during a launch event and raised $1M USD for the NGOs Kids in Motion and Right to Play.

FROM $73,500 USD AUDEMARSPIGUET.COM

Sleeping Bag by Brain Dead + Nanga

Brain Dead is known for many collaborations, but perhaps its coziest joint product drop of the year was a sleeping bag release with acclaimed Japanese outerwear brand Nanga. Nanga was founded in 1941 by Akira Yokota, who aimed to “explore the unknown” through clothing designed to withstand the elements without compromising on style. The company is revered for producing lightweight puffer jackets, vests, and accessories, while Brain Dead is known for blending references to subcultures like rollerblading, art house cinema, and wrestling in its irreverent apparel and homeware goods.

The partnership materialized in a tactical-yet-elegant sleeping bag with hues of olive and chartreuse adorning its single-quilted, wavy design. Made with 100% nylon padding, 80% duck down, and 20% duck feather, the product features a co-branded label on the compact carrying bag and is ideal for outdoor usage from early spring to late summer.

$550 USD WEAREBRAINDEAD.COM

Pebble Match Strike by Houseplant

Houseplant’s Pebble Match Strike is the houseware equivalent of a Swiss Army Knife. The sleek and “incredibly sturdy” cast iron objet d’art is a match striker, match holder, and ashtray—a plumefriendly hybrid design that is equal parts refined and practical. Approximately the size of a grapefruit, but weighing nearly six pounds, the kindling container was crafted for durability and comes with a leather base that

will prevent ring marks or table scratches. The brand notes that strike marks are not only to be expected, but “add character to the piece.” (That said, any scuffs can easily be removed with a dab of olive oil). When both parts of the Pebble are stacked, they appear like a cairn, meaning the offering encourages consumers to bring a little taste of the natural world inside their own abode.

$95 USD HOUSEPLANT.COM

MYSLF Eau De Parfum by YSL Beauty

Designed to represent the vast nuances of modern masculinity, YSL Beauty’s new MYSLF fragrance presents a contrasted and multifaceted trail of various notes. Opening with an intensely fresh and vibrant scent of bergamot, a zesty orange blossom is revealed

at the heart, which evolves into a sensual and long-lasting woody accord. The bold fragrance arrives in two sizes—60 ml and 100 ml—along with a refill bottle, marking the brand’s first men’s fragrance to adopt the rechargeable model.

FROM $123 USD

YSLBEAUTYUS.COM

CON FIGURA TION Chapter 1

CON FIGURA TION

UNDOCKED AND UNHINGED

Following Jerome Peel on a high-intensity joyride from Chinatown to the Bronx to learn more about his eponymous label Peels and the movement known as Citi Bike Boyz.

Ding! It’s a blazing hot July afternoon in the Bronx, and Jerome Peel rings the bell on his 45-pound bright blue Citi Bike as he flies around the edge of a handball court, charges up the 45-degree-angle embankment that borders it, and sails through the air. Thwap! He slaps both tires on the wall above the embankment. Thud! He touches down with the grace of a figure skater after a brief, physics-defying wall cruise, vertical to the sizzling concrete below. Ding! He hits the bell on his Citi Bike once more, an exuberant acknowledgment of victory.

Tricks like these have brought Peel a unique brand of notoriety. He’s the founder of Citi Bike Boyz, an Instagram account-turnedlifestyle-brand dedicated to shredding the streets of New York on the huge, heavy, pay-per-ride commuter bikes that are about as far away from a modern BMX bike as you can imagine. Assuming that Peel grew up BMXing would be sensible but misinformed. In fact, he’s an avid skateboarder and a clothing designer who makes a wide array of Citi Bike Boyz merchandise while also running Peels, his own label known for customized workshirts and jumpsuits, plus collaborations with brands like Vans and X-girl.

The genesis of both Citi Bike Boyz and Peels can be traced to the founder’s love of skateboarding and the DIY mentality it imbued him with. “There were so many things I wanted to do on a skateboard, but I just couldn’t,” he says, sitting on the couch of his sixth-floor walkup apartment in Chinatown, clad in a Peels shirt that was originally made for Bill Murray (it’s quite a story), and speaking with our crew of slightly-winded videographers. (It’s worth mentioning that between the extreme physical exertion of repeatedly jumping Citi Bikes and having to walk twelve flights of stairs in total just to get the mail, Peel is in excellent shape.) “Because I come from a skate background and now have access to this bike, with its bigger wheels and the higher speeds it provides, I look at spots from more of a skater’s mindset than a traditional BMX perspective.”

Peel has spent plenty of time in flight at New York City’s most famous skate spots. His first-ever Citi Bike Boyz stunt was jumping the behemoth double stair set at the LES skatepark on Thanksgiving Day in 2017. “Nobody said anything, nobody yelled, nobody clapped,” he reminisces with a chuckle. “Everyone just looked at me like, ‘What the fuck is this guy doing?’” Since then, he’s hit everything from ledges on Roosevelt Island’s monuments to dirt jumps in Harlem, and, most recently, the famous 145th Street subway gap.

If you don’t know 145th Street by name, you likely know the underground subway station gap by sight. Nigel Sylvester hoisted his bike across it in a famous 2013 photo, and Tyshawn Jones kickflipped it for his Thrasher cover in 2022. Jumping a gap of that nature requires a matador’s level of fearlessness—if you mistime the jump when a train is pulling into the station, you’re a splat on its windshield. And if you come up short on your jump, you risk electrocution on the track’s “third rail,” not to mention the other misfortunes that could befall you from failing to clear the gaping maw between the safety of the platforms. On top of all of that, a rider or skater can’t jump it straight: they have to do so diagonally to build up speed before taking off.

Anyone who’s willing to jump the gap has to have a bit of Evil Knievel in them. Maybe unsurprisingly, Peel once hoodwinked a NY Fox News affiliate into believing he was related to the legendary stuntman. Peel thought through every inch of the jump before he tried it, from his above-ground practice tests to the exact spot where he took off. “I knew I had about 75 feet of runup, plus a turn,” he said of the trick. “I even took off from the exact spot Tyshawn did—I saw where he put Quikrete down to smooth the takeoff.”

“I’LL BE RIDING AS LONG AS I POSSIBLY CAN, NO QUESTION.”

“As I was pedaling at the jump, I was like, ‘Oh, I got this,’” Peel continues, a bemused grin spreading over his face. “I could see the landing, so I felt good, but then when I took off I was like, ‘Holy fuck, this is so far.’ I pulled the bike up as much as I could, and held on for dear life. I’m glad I don’t believe in manifestation, because if I did I’d be dead—I thought I was gonna die and there would be a New York Post headline the next day saying, ‘This idiot got electrocuted and shit his pants trying to jump the subway tracks.’”

Though Peel has a skater’s nonchalance and easygoing attitude, he’s deeply thoughtful about his future and his preferred methods of self-expression. He’s recovering from ACL surgery and pauses for a moment when asked if he thinks he’ll ever get to the point where the juice from jumping Citi Bikes isn’t worth the squeeze.

“I’ll be riding as long as I possibly can, no question,” he says. “But my mindset has changed. I used to be like the bike version of Jaws [pro skater Aaron Homoki], riding as fast and jumping as far as I possibly could. I’d get one shot at everything I did, and if I didn’t stick it, I’d be fucked. Now, I want to be more like [pro skater] Cyrus Bennett, doing real technical, smooth, and creative stuff…instead of risking my life.”

On the clothing front, Peel has adopted the same mindset. Associating his Peels brand with Citi Bike Boyz would give it an instant infusion of notoriety akin to clearing a gnarly gap. (After all, the BMX account has more than twice the Instagram following of the clothing line.) But he wants to keep the two endeavors as separate as possible. The brand’s founding was

both serendipitous and heartfelt. Jerome made the first Peels workshirt for his beloved father—who owns a painting business in Florida—then for his friends, who began demanding their own custom-embroidered shirts after seeing his early creations. A fun side project became a full-fledged business, with workwear produced by a hundred-year-old, family-owned factory in Mississippi and a small Peels team under Jerome, who still heads up the brand’s designs and operations.

Despite Peels’ success, Jerome is in no hurry to put the pedal all the way to the metal. “I’m proud of the meaning and the heart behind what I do with Peels, from the storytelling to the factories I work with,” he says. “It’s a slow-growing thing that I want to be around forever, whereas the Citi Bike Boyz merchandise is much more playful and satirical. They both have their purpose and their own lane.”

As our conversation winds down, Peel notes that he’s aware of the misconceptions around what he does on Citi Bikes, adding that one of the most common is that he’s (somehow) being “disrespectful.” “I’ve never destroyed a bike on purpose…I’ve even fixed Citi Bikes,” he says. “I love hopping on these bikes, showing how accessible they are, and showing that you don’t need to spend $4,000 on a [BMX] bike to get the job done, no matter if you’re riding around or trying to hit a jump.”

Does he have any professional relationship with Citi Bike corporate? Peel’s near-omnipresent grin grows even wider. “They know I exist. Let’s just say I’m an unofficial Citi Bike spokesperson.”

“LET’S JUST SAY I’M AN UNOFFICIAL

AGE THE

OFA vatar

PHOTOGRAPHY BY MICHAEL KUSUMADJAJA & NAYQUAN SHULER

WORDS BY ZACH SOKOL

Emma Stern has strong convictions about her cyber-fueled portraits. “It’s my universe. If you don’t like it, you can go make your own.”

Emma Stern has a balancing act down. The New Yorkbased artist—who specializes in straddling classical painting techniques and hyper-modern, URL-friendly subject matter—knows how to take the piss out of the art world and its trappings, including press interviews like this one, but is dead serious when it comes to the conceptual goals of her paintings.

“I think art should be fun,” she said in a 2022 Artforum interview, before explaining how she couldn’t live with herself if a recent solo show didn’t have at least one painting with a “sexy pirate babe” on a jet ski. The opening of that exhibition, titled Booty! (as in pirate’s booty— get your head out of the gutter!), included customized chocolate gelt piled on the floor in front of her large-scale canvases, as well as a pink stretch Hummer parked outside that matched the palette of the work.

The ironic flourishes might feel like shtick if they weren’t part of the very intentional world-building around Stern’s art. Her practice is an “extended self-portraiture project” where she first digitally renders “lava babies”—her name for the work’s recurring cyberdelic girls. Each

character represents an iteration of herself, which she then depicts in a virtual environment before proceeding to paint them in a style that would make Caravaggio or Balthus do a double take. She says “using traditional processes to articulate very contemporary subject matter” is one way her work aims to reclaim portrait painting, “the 500-year-old tradition of old dead white guys,” and inject it with a fresh, sometimes irreverent, femme perspective.

The iridescent, often ribald avatars may pose like a traditional Renaissance subject, or they might be standing next to a dragon while tipping a cowboy hat. The characters might be doing house chores or brandishing a weapon. Stern says each lava baby is a “crystallized representation of a certain facet of my personality, or some projection of myself,” whether that means a warrior avatar representing strength, or a sullen avatar with a broken leg suggesting vulnerability. “It’s a psychological minefield!”

And even if viewers find the work or how Stern describes it akin to an art canon troll, that’s not her problem: “It’s my universe. If you don’t like it, you can go make your own.”

“I’VE PAINTED A LOT OF WARRIOR BABES, AND THEY TEND TO RESURFACE WHEN I’M FEELING PARTICULARLY STRONG AND WHEN I’M FEELING WEAK. IT’S A psychological minefield. ”

WHO ARE YOUR FAVORITE ANIMATED CHARACTERS—WHETHER FROM TV, COMICS, THE INTERNET, BRAND LOGOS, OR ELSEWHERE?

I love Daria, who was a character on Beavis and Butt-Head before getting her own spinoff. She is the blueprint. I also love how she is literally “Beavis and Butthead for women.”

HAVE YOU EVER EXPERIENCED STENDHAL SYNDROME, AND IF SO, WHAT TRIGGERED IT?

Only once, and it was when I saw Fragonard’s “The Swing.” People love to hate on it, but the painting is so beautiful. I stan Rococo. The thing that really got me was the woman’s foot; the entire gesture is so perfect, and it rattled something inside me.

ARE THERE ANY SPECIFIC ARTISTS OR PUBLIC FIGURES WHOSE CAREER YOU FIND FOREVER INSPIRING? AND IF YOU COULD SPLIT AN EXHIBITION WITH ANY ARTIST, LIVING OR DEAD, WHO WOULD IT BE?

I would love to have a two-person exhibition with Balthus, though I can’t say I would model my career trajectory after his, given all the sex pest accusations and whatnot. Even so, it is hard to discount his contribution to the canon of painting, and his influence on me personally. I also think our work side-by-side could create a very interesting feedback loop.

DO YOU THINK OF YOUR ART PRACTICE IN TERMS OF “ERAS” OR “PERIODS”? AT ONE POINT YOU WERE PAINTING MORE BLACK-AND-WHITE WORKS BEFORE LEANING INTO VIBRANT COLORS.

I think of it as very spectral. I don’t delineate, as in, “OK, now I’m switching colors and I’m gonna do this for six months and then switch again.” It’s much more organic than that. It’s all a very gradient evolution—slow changes over time that are generally not premeditated. It also has a lot to do with my fluency and confidence in the software I use, because the more adept I am with my tools, the more complex and dynamic the paintings ultimately become.

I’VE ALWAYS FOUND IT INTERESTING THAT YOU USE MODERN TECHNOLOGICAL TOOLS TO DRAFT YOUR WORK, BUT THE ACTUAL PAINTING PROCESS SEEMS TO EMBRACE TRADITIONAL TECHNIQUES AND IS MORE IN THE LINEAGE OF CLASSICAL FIGURATIVE PAINTING. WHAT’S IT LIKE STRADDLING THE LINE BETWEEN DIGITAL AND PHYSICAL PROCESSES?

Using traditional processes to articulate very contemporary subject matter is one of the most exciting and challenging facets of making work this way. My loyalty to oil-on-canvas as a medium is an emotional thing. But stepping outside of that, I feel it also allows this work to exist within the context of the history of painting, and of portraiture specifically, and that recontextualizing creates new meaning for these images, which would be seen very differently if they were, for example, on a computer or phone screen.

It’s not that I enjoy one process more than the other; it’s more complicated than that. I’ve been painting for 17 years, but I feel

like I just learned how to use a computer properly. Painting is, and always will be, my first love, but I rarely find it challenging by itself these days. So adding in the digital workflow keeps me very much on my toes and constantly learning.

HOW IS YOUR ONLINE AUDIENCE DIFFERENT FROM YOUR IRL AUDIENCE?

Different tax brackets.

WHAT’S THE MOST SURPRISING OR MEMORABLE REACTION SOMEONE’S HAD TO SEEING YOUR WORK?

Getting accused of being a pedophile in the Artforum comments section was pretty memorable.

“EACH PAINTING IS AN ITERATION OF MYSELF, SOME crystalized REPRESENTATION OF A CERTAIN FACET OF my personality. ”

VFX BY NICA TAN

YOU EMPLOY RECURRING CHARACTERS THROUGHOUT YOUR PRACTICE. HAVE YOU BUILT ANY MYTHOLOGIES AROUND THEM, EVEN IF JUST IN YOUR HEAD? WHAT MAKES A CHARACTER RICH ENOUGH TO BECOME A RECURRING STAPLE IN YOUR PRACTICE?

I have long referred to this body of work as an “extended self-portraiture project.” By that, I mean that they are my avatars, and an avatar by definition is always a self-portrait, no matter how indirectly or subconsciously. Each one is an iteration of myself, some crystallized representation of a certain facet of my personality, or some projection of myself that is perhaps a defense mechanism. It is true that many of these characters/avatars are recurring. When a character reappears, it’s because something within me is connecting. For example, I’ve painted a lot of warrior babes, and they tend to resurface when I’m feeling particularly strong and when I’m feeling weak. It’s a psychological minefield!

YOU’VE WRITTEN ABOUT THE “INHERENT DRAG ELEMENT TO AVATARS,” WITH THE EXHIBITION BOOTY! BEING YOUR PIRATE DRAG PERIOD. WHAT OTHER ARCHETYPES DO YOU WANT TO EXPLORE THROUGH THIS DRAG LENS?

For my upcoming show opening this September at Almine Rech in London, the work is entirely based on a fictional all-girl rock band called Penny & The Dimes. While perhaps my social media persona comes across as performative (I refer to my online persona as a long-form performance piece), I actually have awful stage fright and hate being in front of a live audience. So creating a rock band, developing each member, and creating a little universe for them has allowed me to live out my rock star fantasy, without having to experience any of the corporeal stage fright that comes along with being a famous musician. That’s what I mean by “drag”—my use of the term has little to do with gender identity, and more to do with creating an “alt,” a proxy upon which to offload your desires, a vessel that is unlimited.

HOW DO YOU KEEP YOURSELF ENTERTAINED WHILE IN THE STUDIO CHIPPING AWAY AT YOUR WORK—PODCASTS? MUSIC? WHAT GETS YOU INTO THE FLOW STATE?

These days I’m listening to a lot of nonfiction audiobooks. When I’m preparing for an exhibition, I do long days in the studio, and can wind up consuming around eight hours of audio content in a day. The long-form format and cadence of audiobooks helps the time pass in a way that music does not for me. Plus, I like to learn while I paint, and I think stimulating the part of my brain that takes in new information helps me physically paint better. Right now, I’m listening to a book called The Culture of Narcissism: American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations by Christopher Lasch.

HOW DID YOU ORIGINALLY CONNECT WITH BILL POWERS AND HALF GALLERY? HAS HE GIVEN YOU ANY MEMORABLE ADVICE?

I used to watch Bill when he was a judge on that Bravo reality show Work of Art: Search for the Next Great Artist, and spent the next decade manifesting a chance encounter with him, which ultimately did happen. The best advice he ever gave me was, “The best revenge is a life well lived.”

IF YOU COULD EXHIBIT YOUR WORK ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD —EVEN A FANTASTICAL PLACE—WHERE WOULD YOU PICK?

Funny, I was just talking to someone the other day about how I would love to do a show inside one of those underground billionaire bunkers in New Zealand.

ARTWORK IMAGES COURTESY OF EMMA STERN AND HALF GALLERY

FEELING OF FLIGHT

WORDS BY SHAWN GHASSEMITARI PHOTOGRAPHY BY OTHELLO GREY

A conversation with Moya Garrison-Msingwana AKA “GANGBOX” on character-building through fashion.

“How much can you discern about someone if you only see the shit they like?” asks Moya Garrison-Msingwana. Known to many by his alias, GANGBOX, the CanadianTanzanian artist is best known for his fashion-forward illustrations that conflate the nostalgia of early Japanese animations with sartorial subcultures—from gorpcore and streetwear, to billowing samurai kimonos and Euro tracksuits. “If you obfuscate the main signifiers we use to understand one another, there’s a lot of room to experiment.”

Garrison-Msingwana’s early interest in manga and anime sparked a desire to incessantly redraw his favorite scenes. Nowadays, despite being commissioned by the likes of adidas, LOEWE, Stüssy, and The North Face, he still carries the same childlike curiosity as he continues to expand his practice through sculptures, collage, and fine art paintings, while simultaneously probing the visual trappings, iconographies, and fashion styles associated with his subject matter.

Storytelling is at the heart of GANGBOX’s practice, as he first builds each character by writing down ideas in bullet points. He then translates these thoughts into vibrant acrylic paint—conveying references ranging from anime and utility vests, to textile patterns inspired by his father’s East African roots.

Most of GANGBOX’s illustrated characters are featureless in appearance, a device he employs to investigate the human figure while exploring how both personal and shared histories are attached to the clothing we wear. “On a daily basis, we rely on body language and facial expressions to read one another,” says the artist. “I think it’s really fun to play with these types of signifiers we use.”

We caught up with Garrison-Msingwana to understand the processes that underpin his practice, discuss the ties between visuals and community, and highlight his future goals, including a potential animated feature.

ANIME HAS BEEN A THREAD THROUGHOUT YOUR LIFE, BOTH IN TERMS OF YOUR INSPIRATIONS AND YOUR OWN WORK. CAN YOU TALK ABOUT THE EARLY INFLUENCES THAT SHAPED YOUR ART?

When I was growing up, there was this place in Toronto called Queen Video that my parents would always take me to. Their anime section had everything, from Totoro to the R-rated, insane titles. I wasn’t allowed to engage with any of them, but I always loved looking at the covers and artwork because they were so drastically different from everything else in the store. My parents eventually realized that Studio Ghibli was OK for kids, so I got into that and realized how magical their films are.

I was largely introduced to anime through the “high art” stuff, instead of a common route into the genre like Dragon Ball Z. My best friend’s dad had a huge anime DVD collection, so we would watch Ghost in the Shell and Neon Genesis Evangelion when I was 12. I may have been a little too young, but that transformed my perspective on what animation could be.

WERE YOU ALWAYS DRAWING?

I’m an only child, so once I got hooked on drawing, it was how I’d keep busy and stave off boredom. For a long time, it was a hobby that I showed some talent in. My parents would take me to galleries where I’d life draw, and I had a couple of professional artists as mentors who showed me the tricks of the trade. However, I only started taking it seriously when I had to decide what to do for university.

HOW WOULD YOU DEFINE YOUR PRACTICE? DOES YOUR CULTURAL BACKGROUND—WITH A FATHER FROM TANZANIA AND A MOTHER FROM THE US/CANADA—SEEP INTO YOUR WORK?

I was exposed to the Western approach to art really young, as I grew up in Canada. But going to Tanzania and realizing how much other cultures live and breathe art and design— for example, it’s way more integrated into the clothes they wear—helped me realize that there’s a natural approach to both, with a different, more colorful sensibility than you’ll see in North America. However, I didn’t really get into representing the motifs, patterns, and colors of East African cultures in my work until I was 23.

HOW DID YOU DEVELOP THE GANGBOX ALIAS?

It happened accidentally. I had a group of friends who called themselves CHE GANG and another group that called themselves FRIED BOX, so I fused the two names into one. Since then, I’ve realized it has an actual meaning, which is like a construction toolbox.

The idea of a gang is so romanticized, especially when you grow up loving hip-hop like I did, but it’s such a fraught concept and word. My work is about humanizing and normalizing Black people. The idea of a GANGBOX is almost like a toy box for gangsters—something that’s really fun, light-hearted, and imaginative, but still has that edge to it.

GROUPS, GANGS, OR COMMUNITIES ALWAYS HAVE PART OF THEIR IDENTITY, SUCH AS THE FASHION OR COLORS THEY WEAR, ROOTED IN GEOGRAPHY AND PLACE. EVERYONE SEEKS THAT FEELING OF COMMUNITY AND IDENTITY, AS WELL AS WAYS TO VISUALLY REPRESENT THOSE THINGS. Yeah, it’s a way of belonging. The different ways people try to belong is definitely something that I explore. Even by resisting belonging, you fit into a new category. You always belong somewhere.

“EVEN BY RESISTING BELONGING, YOU FIT INTO A NEW CATEGORY. YOU ALWAYS BELONG SOMEWHERE.”

DO YOU WRITE STORY NOTES AROUND THE CHARACTERS IN YOUR WORK, OR DO YOU LET EVERYTHING SPEAK FOR ITSELF?

Both. I write a lot of fragmented notes that are almost like bullet points for myself, as well as the first associations that come to mind. I was taught that making those associations is the best way to start. If I’m given X, Y, and Z, how can I then come up with visual signifiers that incorporate that? Or physical positions of the character that imply these certain feelings?

I think I’ve gotten pretty good at that over the years, because I constantly watch cultural things bloom and die off. Then, I just draw whatever images pop up into my head, or create the visual version of the words I wrote.

MANY TIMES, YOUR FIGURES ARE VEILED. CAN YOU ELABORATE ON THE CONCEPTUAL REASONS BEHIND THIS?

On a daily basis, we rely on body language and facial expressions to read one another. I think it’s really fun to play with these types of signifiers we use to belong. How much can you discern about someone if you only see the shit they like? You’re playing I Spy with their projected identity if you do…But if you obfuscate the main signifiers we use to understand one another, there’s a lot of room to experiment.

CAN YOU DISCUSS YOUR PROCESS BEHIND CREATING AN ARTWORK FROM START TO FINISH?

I had a teacher in school who I really didn’t get along with, but he did give me some valuable advice: “Living is really important.”

Even if you’re working super hard on something or have a deadline, make sure you have time to go on a walk or clear your mind and experience things. I often find myself taking big breaks between working on projects now, because it gives me more time to genuinely think about who I am and what I’m contributing to this world. Then I can come back to making artwork with a little more clarity.

I start off that way, just thinking and existing. Then I sketch a lot and will loosely place down ideas or shapes that I think are special or could have meaning. If it’s something that I’m making for myself, I don’t really know what it means until it’s done. I might do a color study if I’m feeling particularly organized, which is rarely the case. Then I just paint, sometimes with Procreate on the iPad to mess around with things, but I prefer to sketch analog and paint with acrylics.

SOCIAL MEDIA HAS RAPIDLY ACCELERATED OUR THIRST FOR CONTENT. HOW DO YOU INTERACT WITH THIS FEVERISH PACE IN YOUR OWN PRACTICE?

I don’t try to keep up. The pace I’m comfortable with is the pace I make the best work at. I don’t think I owe it to anybody to make artwork just because I want to keep up my Instagram followers or because I need money. There are enough people out there who are aware that great things take time and energy. You can’t force or fabricate that, and spreading yourself thin is not a good solution. It can pay off to just do things your way. Like-minded people will connect with what you do, no matter what.

DO YOU HAVE OTHER GOALS WITH YOUR ARTWORK BESIDES EXPRESSING YOUR CULTURAL INFLUENCES?

Yeah, there are overarching themes and things I spend time thinking about regardless, like identity. I think about a lot of the gray areas in life and the nuances that exist in places. I also like to explore maximalism. We’re all processing a ton of information all the time, and translating that into my work is important because I think it reflects the time we live in. I also want to comment on political ideals and bigger issues that we are facing as humanity with my art.

DO YOU WANT TO DABBLE IN FULL ANIMATIONS IN THE FUTURE FOR, SAY, AN ANIME? WHAT WOULD A DREAM PROJECT BE?

Definitely. I’ve done quite a variety of work over my career and I plan on working on writing and illustrating my own manga that will hopefully, in an ideal world, include having my characters voiced and animated.

STILL SIZZLIN’

WORDS BY ZACH SOKOL

PHOTOGRAPHY BY JUSTIN SARIÑANA

SHYAN ZAKERI IS THE GO-TO “BURGER GUY” FOR POP-UPS IN DOWNTOWN NEW YORK. BUT AFTER THREE YEARS OF SLINGING DOUBLE-STACKS OUTSIDE, HE’S ASKING HIMSELF WHAT COMES NEXT BEYOND TWO BUNS.

Shyan Zakeri knows he’s “the burger guy,” but he’s getting a little burnt out on buns.

Over the last few years, the 27-year-old behind food pop-up project Shy’s Burgers has become the go-to grill maestro for any New York menswear brand or shop throwing a party. He’s lugged a flat-top grill to events hosted by Drake’s, Noah, MR PORTER, Drug Store, Colbo, and Mohawk in LA, as well as commandeered the kitchen for one-nightonly takeovers at buzzing eateries like Foster Sundry, Doubles, Gem, Babs, and the newly-revamped Triple Decker Diner.

Despite having almost no formal food training, Zakeri is known for crafting an elevated take on fast food burgers (he eschews the style of inch-thick slabs of ground sirloin found at places like The Odeon). His thin, greasy, double-stacked patties get gobbled up instantly, often selling out hours before a pop-up ends. There’s rarely any promotion for Shy’s Burgers events, and Zakeri notes that, until recently, he hadn’t posted a food pic on Instagram in nearly a year. However, the word-of-mouth approach hasn’t prevented a massive line from forming anywhere he’s holding an offset spatula.

“THERE’S THE DESIRE TO HAVE SOMETHING THAT’S YOURS. YOU WANT TO MAKE A MARK.”

In late 2022, he told an interviewer he’d cooked at least 10,000 burgers since starting Shy’s during the last leg of the pandemic—and that number has probably doubled since. The operation started with Zakeri and his friends cooking out of their apartment kitchen, lowering plates of food (with a mini beer to boot) in a bucket out the window to customers waiting on the street. After grilling at a barbecue thrown by the podcast Throwing Fits, he started getting tapped by various clothing brands to serve food at their own parties, often becoming the main attraction. While it can be trying for small businesses to make a name for themselves at the beginning, Shy’s Burgers never had that problem. “Nah, not for me,” Zakeri says with an assured chuckle. “It was cracking from the start, immediately successful.” Regardless of his comfortable position as a munchies magnet and lowkey bellwether for clothing boutiques and restaurants on the rise, the self-taught chef is hungry for the next course in his culinary journey.

“I don’t want to be the fucking guy who’s cooking burgers outside for the rest of my life. I’m just bored of it,” he explains over a beer near his apartment in Bed-Stuy. “I started Shy’s over two years ago, and if I don’t have a next step by the end of the year, I’ll probably not do this anymore. I want to level up.”

Zakeri is well aware of the hurdles and headaches that will arise if his brand makes the leap to something bigger, like, say, opening a brick-and-mortar restaurant, but it’s something he actively thinks about nonetheless. “New York City is probably the most hostile city in the US for small businesses, particularly restaurants and bars. While doing a pop-up skirts a lot of that red tape, there’s a reason people cook in restaurants,” he explains, noting the financial instability and health code violations that come with a makeshift—and often plein air food enterprise.

As a way to dip his toes in the industrial-grade deep fryer without signing a lease, Shy’s Burgers has increasingly focused on restaurant takeovers instead of outdoor cookouts. (He also does private gigs to help pay the bills.) During an event in early August at Foster Sundry in Bushwick—his longtime meat purveyor—Zakeri had about ten items on the menu, including tahini crunch beans with peanut chili chutney, a double tomato salad, and wagyu bologna sandwiches topped with “addictive cabbage,” as well his original double patty (“The #1”).

He describes his new offerings as “food I want to eat—just really simple stuff, but interesting.” Zakeri points to restaurants like Superiority Burger, Bernie’s, Scarr’s, and Cafe Mutton in Hudson as inspiration points, alongside his friends who run the Vietnamese pop-up Ha’s Đặc Biệt. The sentiment is reminiscent of the Anthony Bourdain line from Kitchen Confidential: when chefs leave the restaurant, all they want to eat is unfussy but masterfully-executed home cooking.

Zakeri views this kind of comfort food as a “niche that you don’t currently see in New York,” largely due to how TikTok has influenced dining and spurred a movement of menus that favor spectacle over substance. He says social media has “fucked this city up in so many ways. Restaurants have become washed and there’s a less critical consumer because of it.” Shy’s Burgers, however, is diametrically opposed to culinary bells and whistles, with the founder again emphasizing, “I don’t make food for Instagram.”

Zakeri notes that the one-off guest takeovers are trial-anderror “proofs of concept,” qualifying that the menu at Foster Sundry was “a little all over the place…we’re clearly figuring out the throughline as we go.” He also admits it can be frustrating to be “beholden to other business’s waitstaff, systems, and

“THE BURGERS ARE AN EXTENSION OF ME AND I’M INTRINSICALLY TIED TO THEM, WHICH IS AN INTERESTING IDEA TO GRAPPLE WITH.”

structures.” Still, he’s more “satisfied and content” now that he’s cooking at proper restaurants with functional bathrooms and appliances. There’s also the gratification of being able to pay his friends to help, in addition to having the resources to execute menu ideas he’s had lingering “in the back of my head for two years.” The pop-up and takeover model can’t last forever, though, and Zakeri wants to build something more enduring.

“What is Shy’s beyond two buns?” he asked in an Instagram post over the summer. “The burgers are an extension of me and I’m intrinsically tied to them, which is an interesting idea to grapple with,” he explains later, especially as he’s not a trained

chef who can easily slide into a gig at an established restaurant or secure the capital to open his own. In a telling moment, Zakeri posted a response to a meme roasting the omnipresence of smash burgers sold at brand activations throughout the city. “Give me a place for me and my friends to cook normal food inside [regularly], and I can end this once and for all,” he wrote.

As we finish our beers, Zakeri underscores these future aims: “There’s the desire to have something that’s yours. You want to make a mark.” When the next iteration of Shy’s Burgers, whatever it may be, manifests, you can bet there will be a line on opening night.

THE CRAFTING

Independent brands and designers craft with quality in mind. Slower manufacturing means well-made products for mindful people—which in turn fosters meaningful connections amongst considerate communities, the antithesis of modern-day mainstream fashion’s “here today, gone tomorrow” mindset. Giant companies move at a feverish pace, increasing unneeded supply to meet non-existent demand. In the process, these brands are doing more harm than good to our environment (and our moral fabric) in the quest for global dominance. To give the small brands and artisans a leg up in their pursuit, Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Apple Classic Remix program fully supports arts and culture, championing independent creators by providing them with the funds and tools necessary to succeed in one of the world’s most competitive industries.

From 2021 to 2023, Ouigi Theodore of Brooklyn Circus, Sheila Rashid and Justin Mensinger (founders of their eponymous labels), Corianna and Brianna Dotson of Coco and Breezy, Nigeria Ealey of TIER, and designer Kristopher Kites were chosen to craft collections inspired by Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Honey and Tennessee Apple whiskeys. 100% of the sales from their designs, which are now up to $100,000 USD, were matched by Jack Daniel’s and shared amongst program winners in 2023. By looking through the Classic Remix Collection archives, you’re given a sense of how these designers’ slow, thoughtful approach is more important than ever. Their creations not only represent the future of responsible design, but serve as a blueprint of how creative communities can give back to younger generations in need of such opportunities.

In 2021, Chicago-based designer Sheila Rashid and Brooklyn-based designer Ouigi Theodore of Brooklyn Circus were tapped by Jack Daniel’s to create bespoke apparel for the Classic Remix Capsule Collection. Inspired by the uniforms of Jack Daniel’s distillery workers, Rashid’s overalls were cut from resilient fabric and designed with a honeycomb pattern plus branded embroidery at the back. The unisex design perfectly echoed Rashid’s style, which blurs the norms of gender identity. Theodore’s varsity jacket, on the other hand, embodies his trade as a tailor. The limited edition piece, which sold out instantly at launch, reflects the careful craftsmanship for which Brooklyn Circus is known with its premium fabrics, patches, and embroidery—all representing timelessness and purposeful design.

PLEASE DRINK RESPONSIBLY.

WHISKEY SPECIALTY, 35% ALC. BY VOL. (70 PROOF.) JACK DANIEL DISTILLERY, LYNCHBURG, TENNESSEE.

JACK DANIEL’S TENNESSEE APPLE IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK. @2023 JACK DANIEL’S

Corianna and Brianna Dotson of Coco and Breezy were joined by Justin Mensinger for Jack Daniel’s Classic Remix initiative in 2022. “When someone wears a piece created by me, I want them to know the time and love that was put in the product,” Mensinger said of his vision. As an artist and clothing designer, Mensinger pieces together discarded fabrics or unwanted apparel for his creations. It’s a time-consuming process, but his works have garnered praise and admiration in the world of DIY fashion. For his Jack Daniel’s Classic Remix design, the LA-based creative produced a bucket hat and hoodie in his signature patchwork style. Afro-Latina identical twin sisters Corianna and Brianna Dotson founded their eyewear company Coco and Breezy in 2009. It took time for Coco and Breezy to master the art of crafting sunglasses, and according to them, it took an even longer time to raise the capital to launch their brand. Timing is key to any independent pursuit and Coco and Breezy learned that no matter how long it takes, taking action is what leads to realizing any entrepreneurial dream. In partnership with Jack Daniels, Coco and Breezy modified their “Cornell” model sunglasses to reflect the look of the Tennessee Apple whiskey bottle, from the gold trims to mimic the whiskey inside, to the green temples made to reflect the bottle’s label.

Jack Daniel’s most recent Classic Remix initiative involved Kristopher Kites and Nigeria Ealey. Through his meticulous eye

for detail, Kites created a chunky Cuban link-style chain in a hand-sculpted lucite material, along with the use of 3D printers and self-made compounds. The resulting product has an iridescent green and honey-colored hue, finished with a fastening system showcasing Jack Daniel’s branding. “I’m always learning and conceptualizing with my hands,” Kites explained. “Every piece starts by hand, and once I know what I’m going for, then things start to trickle down on the manufacturing side.”

As for Ealey, the TIER creative director created unisex monochromatic jackets and a set of joggers in a green and honey colorway. As one of the founding members of the Art Never Dies Foundation and Artrepreneur Festival, Ealey and his partners look to provide “up-and-coming talents in the arts with resources, funding, and programming” to help them overcome the hurdles that often impede emerging and established creatives in the space.

Jack Daniel’s started their Tennessee Apple Classic Remix program in 2021 to provide grants to the next generation of streetwear designers. The initiative continues to this day as a way to highlight the brand’s commitment to arts and culture, fostering a creative community that supports the spirit of independent design.

ACCE LERA TION Chapter 2

ACCE LERA TION

WORDS BY ZACH SOKOL

PHOTOGRAPHY BY COREY OLSEN

Artist Matthew Burgess has established himself as “the custom chain-stitch guy,” but there’s more than meets the eye in his psychedelic embroideries-on-canvas.

Matthew Burgess isn’t a household name in the art world quite yet, but the 27-year-old has the type of cult audience that can pinpoint one of his canvases from a group show or Instagram’s Explore Page without hesitation. “My work is instantly recognizable to people who are aware of what I do,” he’ll tell you.

Once you’re indoctrinated to Burgess’ pupildilating, large-scale embroideries on canvas, the same familiarity will likely be branded into your frontal lobes, too. His art practice revolves around sampling vibrant (and typically psychedelic) animation and pop culture detritus— such as stills from Alice in Wonderland, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, Natural Born Killers, or Aeon Flux—and incorporating traditional cross-stitching methods alongside oil paint

in a way where the line blurs between the two techniques.

The melding of the two processes has an effect on the viewer that’s akin to picking up a can of soda that you think is empty, but is actually full—a positive and undeniably trippy version of experiencing the Uncanny Valley. In one unnamed 68” x 54” canvas, the Disney iteration of Alice is pictured in a field of daisies. The flowers in the foreground, as well as parts of her clothing, are embroidered, while the flora in the background is painted. From a distance, it’s hard to tell where the thread ends and the oil begins, and Burgess says, “playing with that relationship is the foundation of the art I’m trying to create.”

It’s a slow and time-consuming process to make these works, but Burgess’ signature approach has won him notable fans and collectors, including Metro Boomin (who bought his very first painting) and Brian Procell (who has a canvas on display in his Lower East Side showroom). And though his interests have shifted away from fashion, he made waves earlier in his career by designing custom merch for both Drake and Lil Uzi Vert —projects that bolstered his reputation and led to him pursuing art full-time.

By spotlighting single frames from classic animation, Burgess’s art encourages us to consider the craft and detail that goes into the thousands of animation cels that are woven together to make an entire movie. Or to appreciate the design of the blotter art pictured on the acid tab you might put on your tongue. His methodology, and the idiosyncratic sensation it inspires, forces viewers to slow down and really digest imagery that we’re familiar with to the point where it feels new again.

YOU’VE SAID THAT YOUR MOM AND GRANDMOTHER HAVE A RELATIONSHIP WITH CROSS-STITCH AND EMBROIDERY. WHAT TECHNIQUES DID THEY DIRECTLY PASS ON TO YOU AND HOW HAS IT INFLUENCED YOUR ART PRACTICE?

Embroidery and knitting were a recurring aspect during my childhood. My grandmother knitted as a hobby. She would give my whole family—eight to nine of us—sweaters, socks, hats, and blankets every year for Christmas. These sweaters had beautiful winter imagery, like snowflakes and sleds. She won best knitter at the state fair many times, and being gifted these items every year was a blessing; they were made with love.

My mother took inspiration from her, and learned how to cross-stitch embroider. Cross-stitching is a method of embroidery where each stitch is hand-sewn in an “x” pattern, hence the name. It often incorporates folky American imagery: barn animals, flowers, colonial houses, trees, family heritage, etc. The works my mother would make are everywhere throughout my house. Growing up, they were unimportant to me and looked very bland. However, it was a hobby that she loved, and I had the opportunity to observe how long it took to make these things. I’ve watched my mother spend multiple years on a single piece. Crossstitch embroidery takes forever, and when you make a mistake, you have to spend days retracing your steps.

When I first dabbled with making clothes, I made some cross-stitch box logos. I knew immediately it was too time consuming to incorporate this technique into making clothes, so I found a sewing machine on Craigslist, taught myself how to use it, and learned how to make applique patches.

WHEN YOU MOVED TO NEW YORK IN 2016, YOU BEGAN WORKING AT KNICKERBOCKER FACTORY IN RIDGEWOOD, MAKING MASS-PRODUCED HATS. WHAT DID YOU LEARN FROM THIS JOB AND HOW DID IT FURTHER YOUR CAREER?

Working at Knickerbocker was life-changing. I was at a crossroads in my life and knew that I had to take sewing seriously, or not do it at all. Knickerbocker was a place I had found through my friend Phil. In this space, there was a small group of people that sewed all day, making hats and various other items. I wanted to work there so bad. I had court one day in NYC after getting a ticket for drinking in public, so I took the train from Connecticut, where I’m from, and ended up messaging someone there, asking if I could come visit. I told the people there my story and they offered me an internship for three months.

At Knickerbocker, I was surrounded by like-minded people who showed me the way. The first week, I met Kelley Hice, an artist, who essentially became my best friend and mentor for life. Kelley was, and still is, my biggest inspiration. These people taught me everything—how to use, maintain, and fine-tune multiple types of machines, as well as all the skill aspects that are involved with manufacturing clothes. I learned how to make baseball caps, and that's when I really learned how to sew. It’s also where I eventually taught myself how to chain-stitch on a machine that just collected dust in the factory space.

WITHIN A COUPLE YEARS, YOU WERE MAKING MERCH FOR DRAKE AND LIL UZI VERT. HOW DID THOSE COLLABORATIONS COME ABOUT?

This was a time in my career when I was going in on custom apparel and finding fun ways to advance my craft as an embroidery artist. Once the winter season came around, I was embroidering all these “niche,” “pop culture,” and “vintage core” graphics onto sweaters and jackets, establishing myself as the custom chain-stitch embroidery guy. At the time, I was also making these large, grayscale, embroidered portraits on Levi’s jackets, specifically portraits of Princess Diana and Cliff Burton. Drake’s stylist asked for a handful of custom portraits on hoodies, as well as some one-off merch for the release of his Scorpion album. Andrew Barnes, one of my mentor figures, painted artwork concepts for the album, and it was my job to embroider them onto sweaters and jackets. I ended up making many sweaters for Drake and his team. I found myself having to think about custom sweaters all the time just to make a living. It became my primary means of making money—tapping into these niche, graphical references, and sharing them on social media.

WHAT ABOUT LIL UZI VERT? WERE THESE COLLABORATIONS A WAY TO BUILD YOUR PROFILE AS YOU TRANSITIONED MORE FORMALLY INTO THE FINE ART GAME?

I'm a big fan of Lil Uzi Vert. I remember the day he released his single “Futsal Shuffle.” I was on a lunch break, and I had the song playing on my phone. I

looked down at the single artwork, an enigmatic anime style portrait of Uzi, and I was like, “Oh, too easy.” That evening, I finished embroidering the art onto the sweater and shared it online. The internet freaked, and the next day Uzi and his team reached out to me to acquire it, as well as extend an offer to design some merchandise for Eternal Atake

Receiving that kind of recognition is something I never expected when I first moved to the city; it was almost too surreal. However, I lost interest in fashion and working on clothes. People are only willing to spend so much on a sweater. I found myself consistently disappointed in the people and the market of the fashion world. It was a valuable step in my career that I’m very grateful for, but I had run the sweater game into the ground, and found myself needing to find a different way to expand and progress my embroidery. I had been wanting to experiment with canvas works for a while, so around that time I embroidered and stretched my first canvas. My mentor Kelley told me to pick up a paint brush, and paint around the embroidery. This was an essential development in my career, and to this day, is the foundation of the art that I make.

YOU’VE NOTED THAT YOU DO NOT CONSIDER YOURSELF A “PSYCHEDELIC ARTIST,” DESPITE REFERENCING LSD AND MUSHROOMS IN YOUR WORK. HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOUR ART’S RELATIONSHIP WITH PSYCHEDELIA AND DRUG CULTURE?

My first art show was called Bicycle Day, in celebration of Albert Hoffman and the first LSD trip. Essentially, I reproduced ten of my favorite examples of blotter art on a large scale. It was a simple concept that I could relate to, having seen many examples growing up. Blotter art functions as a means for street chemists and dealers to differentiate various LSD batches.

Blotter art is undeniably psychedelic art. It inspired me to explore my creativity on canvas, and teach myself to combine painting and embroidery. I would later re-reference and experiment with these motifs, but not as directly. For example, I'd find blotter art that looked like a floor tile, and paint that as the ground or wallpaper of an image.

I also loved how some cartoons have psychedelic undertones. There's a Disney short, Pink Elephants on Parade, which seems like something out of a bad trip. The imagery is dark and unsettling. It’s wild to me that this was made by an animation studio, and incorporated into a popular children's movie. I loved it, though, so I had a period early in my career where I would reference the elephants for my figures. My current work is just ripping old animation and cartoons. I don't think about psychedelics or drug culture when I make something. I'm just thinking about exploring the relationship between an embroidered figure and a painted background.

HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHICH POP CULTURE IMAGERY TO REFERENCE IN YOUR WORK, WHETHER VINTAGE ANIMATION AND COMICS, OR STILLS FROM CULT FILMS?

Image sourcing is essential to my work. I've discovered that much of my work reminds me of old animation cels, so I began using them for inspiration at one point. I like how there's a cel-style dynamic involved when I place an embroidered figure against a painted background. With embroidery, I’m limited to animated subject matter because that’s what I think looks the best. Embroidery is great for strong solid colors, but difficult when blending various colors. I’m also limited to a palette of 80 or so tones that my thread maker can supply me with. There are no good flesh tone-colored threads. Flesh has undertones and textures that I’m unable to achieve with embroidery. For that reason, I generally choose animated subject matter. The goal in the future is to be less and less referential, but the time will come when I'm ready.

WE TALKED ABOUT HOW YOU STRIVE TO FIND A BALANCE BETWEEN EMBROIDERY AND PAINTING IN YOUR WORKS, ALMOST IN A WAY WHERE THE LINE BETWEEN THE TWO BLURS. CAN YOU EXPAND ON THIS?

I like exploring the dynamic between the embroidery and the paint; playing with that relationship is the foundation of my art. Generally, the figures in the foreground are embroidered so the embroidery comes forward. The texture and colors are very prominent and pop off the canvas. There are instances when, from afar, it’s indistinguishable to tell where the painting and embroidery start, end, or merge. I’ve found that this is what most people like about the things I make.

When I work on a large canvas, I can do so much more than when I designed clothes, especially when I combine the embroidery process with painting. This is what makes my work unique to me. My work is instantly recognizable to people who are aware of what I do. Francis Bacon said to really push the art game, one has to do something that is really different to be any good. One has to develop their own techniques, which is what I believe I’ve done.

THE ZEN TRIPPER

THE LONGTIME CULT-FAVORITE ARTIST PETER SUTHERLAND MOVED TO RURAL COLORADO DURING THE PANDEMIC. NOW, HIS PRACTICE FEELS REFRESHED AND THE MIXED MEDIA MAESTRO IS TRYING TO IMBUE HIS WORK WITH A PURE, CHILDLIKE ENERGY.

WORDS BY ZACH SOKOL

ARTWORK BY PETER SUTHERLAND

Peter Sutherland was the godfather of downtown New York for over 20 years. The mixed media artist cut his teeth in the late ‘90s and early ‘00s as a photographer and cinematographer with a knack for turning his lens towards skaters, musicians, and artists on the precipice of blowing up. He released a number of zines and limited edition books, such as Autograf (2004), a seminal survey of New York graffiti writers, and Pedal (2006), a photo and video document of bike messengers, while also collaborating with cult fashion brands like Bape and Colette (RIP).

As Sutherland grew older, his practice evolved into sculpture, painting, and collage works, often fused with imagery he shot over the years. And while he’s participated in dozens of solo and group exhibitions, Sutherland may be best known as a galvanizer of community and big brother figure to younger creatives, with his Instagram regularly featuring candid sidewalk pics of his diverse range of friends and peers alongside the tag #StreetLordz.

Sutherland’s art practice has consistently explored “things that illustrate a boundary between nature and civilization,” exemplified in his photobook Buck Shots (2007), which showcased deer in both pastoral and suburban settings until the line blurred between the two. He says he liked to make imagery in natural settings and bring it back to urban ones. During the pandemic, however, he and his family relocated to Salida, Colorado, leaving a salient gap in the social fabric of the East Village, but also reinvigorating his approach to art-making in the process.

“I was hardcore in the mix in New York for over 20 years, just going for it. But living in Colorado has been interesting,” the 47-yearold says. “Out here I can be a ‘real artist’ in a way, not splitting my time with socializing and the constant pressure to generate income. It’s been cool to see how this lane works.” Plus, he notes that “any sort of momentum for having a ‘career’ has been able to continue here,” such as recently getting tapped to design skate decks for GX-1000. “Maybe being out of sight makes ‘em want you more.”

Lately, Sutherland’s been going in on large-scale collages that layer scraps of photos, found imagery, and “intentionally juvenile” mark-making reminiscent of both graffiti and the paint pen writing you might see on grip tape. He describes the confluence of material as “upcycling my work, me on my journey to make a painting that feels resolved,” a word he comes back to more than once. “All those collages and paintings are me chipping away and messing with the imagery until it pops or feels resolved.” Recurring visuals include Grateful Dead “stealie” skulls, tagged cars, spirals, digital clocks, and patterns made by weather phenomena, as well as depictions of subcultures like acid house and skating as they originally appeared during the Gen-X era.

“Even though those things are throwbacks, they're still kind of relevant,” he explains. “All youth culture movements eventually become similar. They're just different groups, different factions, pushing their own aesthetic to a point that is exciting”—and bigger than the sum of their parts.

While he’s not currently in the thick of that youth culture like he was during his NYC halcyon days, Sutherland says his goal is to make art with a “childlike energy mixed with an older head energy.” He describes watching his son paint and hoping to incorporate the same “carefree, see-what-happens, there’s-no-plan” attitude into his own work—a pure methodology that comes from the id. “That’s what I want outta my stuff; I’m always trying to get back to that early energy.”

“WHEN I WATCH MY SON PAINT AND SEE HOW FREESTYLE IT IS, I WANT THAT ENERGY—THAT CAREFREE, SEE-WHATHAPPENS, THERE’S-NO-PLAN APPROACH.”

“I WAS HARDCORE IN THE MIX IN NEW YORK FOR OVER 20 YEARS, JUST GOING FOR IT. IT’S BEEN KIND OF COOL TO SEE HOW THIS OTHER LANE WORKS, TOO.”

WORDS BY ZACH SOKOL

PHOTOGRAPHY BY CHRISTIAN FILARDO

THE NYC BRAND, KNOWN FOR ONE-OF-ONE GARMENTS WITH CUSTOM ILLUSTRATIONS, IS MOVING INTO THE WHOLESALE SPACE. WILL ITS FOUNDING SPIRIT BE KEPT ALIVE AS IT CONTINUES TO LEVEL UP?

n another life, Nick Williams and Phil Ayers could have been renowned tattoo artists. The duo behind NYC-based clothing brand Small Talk Studio built its name making one-of-one garments embossed with hand-drawn illustrations and embroidered graphics. They’d drop a 24-hour custom order window on their Instagram, and the lucky few who nabbed a ticket would send the boys a list of visuals and personal reference points. Ayers and Williams would then mix and match the customer’s picks with a medley of “old faithful” images—essentially their version of tattoo flash sheets—that they’d painstakingly draw on denim pants, button-downs, and trucker jackets.

The illustrations form a constellation on a given garment, akin to someone who’s spent years getting inked until they have full sleeves and backpieces. And like tattoos, Small Talk drawings are bold statement pieces chock-full of imperfections that reveal the human hand, ensuring that each order is truly intimate and inimitable. Their visual vernacular ranges from timeless iconography like cupids, pin-up girls, botanical images, and baby devils, to niche cuts like vintage Tang logos, bootleg Bart Simpsons, and the 1996 Montreal Jazz Festival poster. The designs “almost turn into an I Spy composition,” says Ayers. The throughline amongst the disparate imagery is the customer’s personal interests (and Small Talk’s signature touch).

There’s an “element of trust between the customer and us,” the duo says. “They don’t know what we’re actually gonna draw on their garments, so it’s a big leap of faith,” one that results in a cherished piece that no one else in the world has.

Small Talk’s approach has led to a true-blue fanbase, including repeat customers, as well as a commission from Virgil Abloh before his tragic passing. Their reputation also catalyzed collaborations with brands like Adish, Karu Research, Carhartt WIP, and Gitman Vintage, where they were offered free reign to take the established labels’ garments and “freak ‘em” in their own style.

After a few years of focusing on customs, Williams and Ayers opened a studio on the 14th floor of a pre-war building, smack-dab in the heart of Manhattan’s Garment District. The space is cozy, well-lit, and adorned with Small Talk’s own illustrations on the walls and furniture. It’s also where they keep the designs for their first two cut and sew collections, one for Fall/ Winter 2023 and the other for Spring/Summer 2024.

Both collections include around two dozen unisex designs with few illustrations but lots of secondary treatment to the fabrics, such as dyes and embroideries. The fall release features a silk mohair jacket and wool pintuck trousers that Williams describes as a “psychedelic Western vibe,” whereas the spring collection was inspired by “arbor-glyphs,” or markings on trees, which manifests in garments like pants made out of crinkled gauze fabric that resembles the texture of bark. Small Talk still plans to continue its bespoke business, but the goal with the wholesale items is to “find a visual language that bridges the gap between the all-over super graphic customs and [the designs] that are a lot quieter and more understated.”

The clothes will be offered in stores like Blue in Green, Colbo, and Cueva in New York, Super A Market, Hollywood Ranch Market, and Domicile in Japan, as well as boutiques in Los Angeles, Philadelphia, and Melbourne. Williams and Ayers want to establish “long-lasting relationships with more independent retailers, rather than immediately going for the big fish.”

Ultimately, the duo strives to make clothes that are “too personal to give away,” heirloom fits that are versatile and can be dressed up or down. And like a good tattoo artist, the source of each design should be immediately recognizable: a Small Talk Studio joint.

RIOR TO STARTING SMALL TALK STUDIO, DID EITHER OF YOU HAVE DESIGN OR FASHION EXPERIENCE?

Phil Ayers Not traditionally. I worked at Pilgrim Surf + Supply for about three years and was doing freelance illustration with a few different clothing brands. But before that, I worked in a totally different field and was just doing painting and illustration on the side. Both of us come at Small Talk from an art background, and that informs our approach to apparel design.

Nick Williams We have a bit of an outsider perspective since we’re not traditionally educated in garment design. That flips the equation a little bit. When I moved to New York, I was working for a housing nonprofit and teaching art to adults at this supportive housing facility in Brownsville. For about eight months, I would go there three days a week and teach, and then work on Small Talk on my off days. Eventually, Small Talk got to the point where I could do it full-time.

WHAT LED TO SMALL TALK BEING SUCCESSFUL ENOUGH TO FOCUS ON IT EXCLUSIVELY?

NW The transition from part-time to full-time happened really fast. It was basically a combination of good press—like an interview with Blackbird Spyplane and then a profile alongside a couple other designers in the Wall Street Journal and also getting commissioned to make a custom piece for Virgil Abloh. This all happened in the summer of 2020 and it brought a lot more attention to the operation.

I basically spent the summer trying to keep up with the orders that were coming in for custom garments. That fall, I felt that there was enough demand for the two of us to do this together full-time. We officially started as a duo in January 2021, and from seeing Phil’s work, I already trusted that we’d be able to collaborate together well.

HOW DID THINGS CHANGE ONCE IT BECAME A PARTNERSHIP?

NW It took about three months for us to really merge our styles. Phil’s style is a lot cleaner, with a little more saturated color, and he also has a heavier hand. I have a brushier style, and use lighter shading. We started experimenting on pieces together while talking about how to make the style a little more cohesive—not to the point where you couldn’t tell who did what, but just so that it felt like one piece coming from two sets of hands.

PA I brought in an old t-shirt that I practiced a couple drawings on. Then we just jumped right into passing custom pieces back and forth across the table to one another. I think it’s nice because even if there are apparent differences in the style of one drawing to the next, there’s so much going on in any given piece that when you just step back and look at the whole composition, it feels cohesive.

DOES ONE OF YOU EXCEL MORE AT ILLUSTRATING CERTAIN KINDS OF IMAGERY?

NW We’ve been doing it together long enough now that we internally know who should do what. At this point, we both can do whatever comes our way. There are just certain things that one of us likes to do more than the other.

PA I think the big one that we joke about is that we get asked to do a lot of pet portraits. And I always tell Nick that’s on him. A lot of people want their dogs drawn on our jackets or pants.

SOMETHING I FIND INTERESTING ABOUT SMALL TALK IS THAT THERE’S A LOT OF DIVERSE IMAGERY USED, BUT IT ALL FEELS LIKE IT’S PART OF THE SAME CONSTELLATION.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE THE VISUALS THAT THE BRAND GRAVITATES TOWARDS?

PA It differs between the custom stuff and what we do for cutand-sew. It should be noted that for every custom piece we do that’s a one-of-one, we have a dialogue with each customer and we ask them to send us a stream-of-consciousness list of references and images that are meaningful or significant to them. That’s the jumping off point for researching and sourcing all the images for a garment. At this point, we’ve built up a library of images, so maybe 60-75% of the illustrations are unique to that person, and then there are old faithful images that we like to draw and know will work well. It almost turns into an “I Spy” composition or something—a bunch of disparate objects that don’t necessarily have anything to do with each other, but you put ‘em all together on an individual customer’s piece and the thread that connects them is that person’s interests.

NW We like to find some balance between imagery that comes from the natural world and commercial imagery. I think some of that has to do with our own lifestyles. Our studio is in Midtown near Times Square, so we’re constantly bombarded with all kinds of commercial and artificial graphics. It’s really fun to recontextualize that those visuals. Plus, both of us just love the outdoors in general. Phil’s a big surfer. I love to climb. We both like to hike, camp, swim in lakes and rivers—all that shit. I feel like the juxtapositions come from our city mouse, country mouse lifestyle.

ALSO REMEMBER YOU TELLING ME

ABOUT A BINDER FULL OF IMAGE REFERENCES AND EPHEMERA YOU’VE COLLECTED, ALMOST LIKE A TATTOO FLASH BOOK.

NW We have a few binders and a lot of that stuff has been scanned. Due to the pace of everything we’re making these days, a lot of our references come from digital sourcing, going back into the archive, and pulling stuff that fits. But then when we get a project like the one we just did with Karu Research and MR PORTER, where they gave us free reign to do whatever, we really dive into some weird shit. A lot of the imagery for that collaboration came from this old book called From India to the Planet Mars, which chronicles the life and work of this artist Hélène Smith. She held seances where she intended to communicate with a whole world of Martian beings and made automatic drawings in the process. I originally found the book on a public domain archive.

PA Similarly, when we did a capsule for Carhartt WIP last summer, we had a couple months to source imagery and we definitely got a lot of stuff from The Whole Earth Catalog. We also got a lot of references from our friend Kiyo, who has this massive, impressive collection of vintage outdoor gear called Monroe Garden. He has a permanent showroom in his apartment, and he showed us all these crazy old climbing and mountaineering catalogs from the ‘60s and ‘70s. We pulled a lot of images from those and incorporated them into those garments.

WHAT’S THE PROCESS LIKE WHEN DOING THE ILLUSTRATIONS FOR A CUSTOM PIECE? DO YOU HAVE AN IDEA OF WHAT THE FINISHED PRODUCT WILL LOOK LIKE FROM THE JUMP?

NW We never really plan out the design of an entire garment at once. We usually start with one big image that feels like a good anchoring piece and then work out from there. Luckily, we’ve never had a situation where we’ve started that organic process and gotten to a point where it doesn’t work.

PA I think another cool part of the whole process is the element of trust between the customer and us. With most garments, especially expensive garments, you know exactly what you’re getting. Here, though, there’s an element of surprise. People are sending us references, but it’s a very vague, amorphous list of things. They don’t know what we’re actually gonna draw on their garments, so it’s a big leap of faith. There’s always a surprise, but fortunately, all our customers seem to be pretty happy with the final product.

IT DOES REMIND ME OF TATTOO CULTURE IN THE SENSE THAT FLAWED OR IMPERFECT TATTOOS ARE ACTUALLY BETTER, IN A WAY. AN ARTIST’S INDIVIDUAL TOUCH SHOULD SHOW ITSELF.

PA Yeah, it almost looks better and is more meaningful when you can see a small element of the human hand and human flaw in a particular drawing. You can tell it’s not mass-produced. I think people appreciate and respond to that.

AN YOU TALK ABOUT THE MATERIALS AND DESIGN APPROACH FOR THE CUT-AND-SEW COLLECTION?

NW It helps to be able to put together a full collection where there’s 20-30 pieces that all play off of each other, kind of like putting together a body of paintings or sculptures where one thing doesn’t have to fully represent the brand by itself. We find something to nerd out on and get really deep into it. This past spring collection, it was a book of tree carvings—arbor glyphs. We’d collected a bunch of images, which made me think about leaving your mark on nature—mark-making and mark-taking. That was combined with really trippy depictions of the natural world, like medieval horticultural manuscripts and these hand-drawn QSL radio calling cards that truckers used to make and distribute. The latter doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the natural world, but the calling cards had wild images that resonated with us, and the way the images were made and shared had a lot in common with the tree carvings.

Those are turned into a very loose aesthetic guide for sourcing fabrics, coming up with images to embroider, and creating treatments, which, in turn, inform everything from drawings on garments to embroidered motifs—and even the fabrics and material. For example, there’s a pant in the spring collection that has a bark-like texture to it, a crinkled gauze fabric. And for the 2023 fall collection, we went for a psychedelic Western vibe with pieces like a fuzzy silk mohair jacket. It all emerges from the same place that our custom garments would, but it’s just translated in a different way. Plus, people like to see the hand-drawn stuff sideby-side with the cut and sew items and how they inform and play off one another.

PA The cut-and-sew silhouettes are more like things that we want to wear, things that we feel have somewhat of a timeless appeal and a unisex quality about them. I also want to emphasize that on top of sourcing quality fabrics and dialing in our patterns and silhouettes, there’s so much secondary treatment to a lot of these garments. We have all these great vendors we work with here in the garment district, whether it’s an embroiderer, dye house, or specific printers. We start with a nice fabric, a nice fitting garment, and then add our own sort of visual language to freak it a bit. There’s a lot of experimentation and trial-and-error that comes along in those processes, but that’s the Small Talk way. It also ties it back to how we approach the custom garments.

HAVE YOU NOTICED ANY PATTERNS OR TRENDS AMONG SMALL TALK CONSUMERS AND FANS?

PA We definitely have a solid recurring customer base, even with the custom garments. We’ve had a lot of people who’ve ordered two or three at this point, which is sick because we usually only leave the custom order window open for 24 hours. People are usually queued up waiting for that.

NW It’s hard to say for sure, but obviously everything is at a pretty high price point. So there are definitely people who are heads and are willing to save up money or run the credit card up and purchase a piece, which is great because that’s also how I buy clothes [laughs]. New York is still our biggest customer base, but we’re both pretty hyped when we see orders come in from tiny towns in the Midwest. Imagining people in small towns rocking these really loud clothes makes me very happy. It’s very easy to wear whatever the fuck you want in New York because nobody bats an eye, but it’s a bit more of a risk to wear some of the stuff we design in a small town where you might stand out a bit more.

IS THERE AN ETHOS OR MANTRA YOU EMBRACE THAT REPRESENTS THE SMALL TALK VIBE?

NW From a bird’s-eye view, the super-general ethos to how we approach everything is raw and DIY with very heavy attention to detail. That’s combined with high-end materials, durable construction, and meticulous execution. Somebody once described our work as heirloom garments in a very flattering way. They’re too personal to give away, but in the best-case scenario, they’re something that you would pass on to a kid or someone else special in your life when they’re no longer serving you.

PA We want our pieces to look good and be functional, but we also believe clothing should be fun, and our clothes are fun to wear. There’s so much minimalist stuff out there, and we obviously now have quieter pieces too, but we’re just trying to strike a balance with the louder stuff. Ultimately, we’re hyper-conscious of how much work and money goes into making each garment. So it’s important we make sure this shit is long-lasting and that these garments are special enough that people are going to make them cherished staples in their wardrobe for years to come.

A Head His Time of

WORDS BY NOAH RUBIN

BY KEMKA AJOKU

Benny Andallo wants to “crown you” with his haute couture hats.

PHOTOGRAPHY

“The Hat Makes the Man,” proclaimed artist Max Ernst in naming one of his most definitive works. Of course, Ernst’s Dada-ist exploration of men’s headwear in paint and collage (more recently interpreted in sculpture form by Damien Hirst) was a nuanced reference to hats as a symbol of classism, one that he proudly challenged in his eye-catching work. A century later, and hats are still providing an ample ecosystem for both creative expression and social critique, especially for Filipino-British headwear designer Benny Andallo.

Born and bred in London, Andallo was raised in social housing (where, at 31, he still lives), and is one of the most notable figures in the city’s avant-garde fashion community—embodied in large part by designer Nasir Mazar’s Fantastic Toiles collective. Besides his style-centric peers, Andallo pulls inspiration from the city’s underground party scene. Known for everything from high-tempo, bass-heavy warehouse nights, to unexpected rave-friendly hubs in re-imagined forests and marshes on the city’s edge, these gatherings are where Andallo’s inspiration and ideas come to life.

The designer's headwear shines as a way for wearers to “crown” themselves, in his own words. His visionary hats transform the wearer into something fabulous, attention grabbing, and authoritative, regardless of their social or economic status. It’s no wonder his designs (which he sells through Fantastic Toiles and directly via social media) have gotten the attention of musicians, celebrities, designers, and stylists from around the globe. Rihanna, Pink Pantheress, Kid Cudi, and FKA twigs, as well as now-collaborator Junya Watanabe, have embraced Andallo’s silhouettes for their idiosyncratic look: one that embraces the past, but is still fearlessly futuristic.

LONDON-CENTRIC FASHION MEANS A LOT OF DIFFERENT THINGS TO A LOT OF DIFFERENT PEOPLE. WHAT IS YOUR EXPERIENCE OF LONDON AND HOW DO YOU FEEL IT’S EXPRESSED IN YOUR WORK?

There are loads of designers who show in London or have studied in London, and I've done that as well, but there aren’t many designers or artists who represent the diaspora here. The change, for me, was with M.I.A. She was a brown girl coming from London creating this cool alternative noise. I think that's what I do too, being a brown boy soaking up London, taking the traditional thing, and converting that into visual noise.

HOW DID YOUR ROOTS AND UPBRINGING INFORM YOUR CREATIVE APPROACH?

I'm quite British in my sensibilities, but my Filipino attitude comes through in my creative process—the hustling mentality of creating something out of nothing. I'm pretty tight when it comes to sourcing fabrics, or the logistical and financial side of creating stuff. I always create through limitations and turn the throwaway into a really exciting product.

AND WHAT ABOUT THAT BRITISH SENSIBILITY?

When I began making hats, I started making these baker flat caps. I got obsessed with it because the area I live in London is called Newington Green. The area is a mix of so many different cultures. You see older men wearing a flat cap with their own kind of style. I see crowning yourself with these baker hats as a nod of Britishness, because this hat has relations to the royal family, as well as working class people in the UK.

YOU’VE BEEN A CONSISTENT PART OF DESIGNER NASIR MAZHAR’S FANTASTIC TOILES CONCEPTUAL FASHION BOUTIQUE AND COLLECTIVE. HOW DOES WHAT YOU'RE DOING FIT WITHIN THE ETHOS OF THAT COLLECTIVE?

A lot of the Fantastic Toiles designers are expressing their own interests, identities, and communities by creating treasure out of trash. I know it sounds like a bit of a naff thing to say, but it really is that kind of situation. A lot of it has to do with underground party culture in London; that’s where the energy and rawness comes in. It's about sticking to your gut, rather than thinking about what might look good in a retail store. It's very anti-commercialized.

HOW DID YOU CONNECT WITH NASIR MAZHAR?

I assisted him when I was 17 or 18. I was such a lazy fucker and I was a terrible assistant. I had an expectation of the glossiness of fashion, but at the time I hadn’t realized how raw it was. Then later, I bumped into him and I didn't realize it, but I guess Nasir saw my work and he said, “Yeah, I'd like to put some of your stuff in Fantastic Toiles.” This was still early in my hat career, but I got my first sales from Fantastic Toiles to Rihanna and Kiko Mizuhara.

SPEAKING OF RIHANNA, WHAT ARE YOUR FEELINGS ABOUT CELEBRITY IN GENERAL AND THE WAY YOUR DESIGNS HAVE BECOME PART OF SOME OF THESE ICONIC LOOKS?

It's strange because sometimes people say, “Oh you're a celebrity designer.” It’s like, “No, I'm definitely more than that.” I don't chase anyone, it's just a thing that happens. Stylists know my work. They tell me certain kinds of artists [are interested in a commission] and it's like, “Yeah, I'm up for that.” I think other people get more excited about it than me because when a project is done, I'm going on to the next thing. I get over things quickly.

WHAT ABOUT YOUR RECENT JUNYA WATANABE COLLABORATION FOR THE MEN'S FALL/WINTER 2022 MINI-SHOW AND ITS ACCOMPANYING VIDEO? WAS WORKING WITH JUNYA MORE EXCITING TO YOU THAN A CELEBRITY WEARING ONE OF YOUR DESIGNS?

I'm a huge Junya fan, so I was not even really believing it. They had reached out through Instagram, and then I got an email from Junya himself. I was like, “OK, this is kind of weird.” Throughout the entire communication, I had no idea what it was about at all. They were very direct and very specific, so I didn't hesitate or question anything because I was just like, “Fuck, it's Junya, I trust whatever they do.” I only found out the collaboration was Jamiroquai-inspired when the video came out. Then, I was like, “OK, this makes sense now. This is actually pretty sick.”

“A lot of the Fantastic Toiles designers are expressing their own interests, identities, and communities by creating treasure out of trash. I know it sounds like a bit of a naff thing to say, but it really is that kind of situation.”

STYLED BY ARIANE KAYLA

Black Fuzz Silly Top Hat

“THIS HAT WAS MADE FOR THE JUNYA COLLABORATION, BUT IT GOT TAKEN OUT OF THE VIDEO BECAUSE IT WAS TOO BIG AND HEAVY FOR THE DANCER TO MOVE AROUND IN. IT CAME ALIVE AGAIN BECAUSE ERYKAH BADU WORE IT. THE CREATIVE DIRECTOR OF MARNI, FRANCESSCO RISSO, BOUGHT IT FOR HER FOR CHRISTMAS.”

Green Fleecy Floral Wonky Dome Hat

“THIS HAT JUST DIDN’T FEEL RIGHT AS ONE OF MY TRADITIONAL DOME SHAPES, SO I ADDED THE TUBING ON THE EDGE IN THE SAME FABRIC. IT’S KIND OF TRIPPY, ANIMATED, AND CARTOONY, AND IS MADE OUT OF FLEECE. IT LOOKS LIKE PLAY-DOH OR A RAVER'S HAT FROM THE '90S.”

Leopard Fuzz Baker Crown Hat

“THIS IS ONE OF THE HATS I'VE SOLD THE MOST OF AND IT'S THE HAT I PERSONALLY WEAR ALL THE TIME, TOO. I USED CONTRAST TRIMMING, SO IT KIND OF LOOKS LIKE A CROWN IN AND OF ITSELF…YOU CAN CROWN YOURSELF IN IT. I THINK IT HAS ALL THE BEST BITS OF SOMETHING BAD AND GOOD, ALL IN ONE.”

Kitty Kat Doodle Bonnet

“I MADE THIS ONE FOR A SHOOT THAT WAS STYLED BY ANNA TREVELYAN. IT WAS INSPIRED BY THE ANIME AND COMIC BOOK TEKKONKINCREET. THE IDEA WAS TO MAKE A CAT EAR BONNET THAT LOOKED LIKE SOMEONE WALKED OUT OF A COMIC BOOK AND INTO REALITY.”

Hot Pink Fuzz Ear Bonnet

“THIS HAT WAS MADE FOR KID CUDI’S NEW BRAND MEMBERS OF THE RAGE. I THINK THEY WANTED ME TO CONSULT ON HOW TO MAKE THEIR FIRST SEASON MORE FASHIONABLE. IT HAS REALLY SUBTLE CHOICES: COLOR, LENGTH OF FUR, AND SHADES TO GO ALONG WITH THE COLLECTION. THIS HAT GAVE KIND OF A HARAJUKU STYLE ADD-ON TO THE LOOK OF THE BRAND ITSELF.”

Hot Pink Fuzz Dome Hat

“THIS IS THE FIRST DOME I MADE, AND IT WAS A STATEMENT. THAT PUSHED ME TO MAKE MORE STATEMENT HATS. PINK IS JUST A GREAT COLOR BECAUSE IT'S SO PUNCHY AND RIDICULOUS. CULTURALLY, IT’S A BIT OF AN HOMAGE TO THAT PAMELA ANDERSON VMA HAT OR CAM’RON’S ICONIC LOOKS, AS WELL.”

COMBINING HEAVY STORIES AND IN-FLIGHT HUMOR WITH FAST-PACED BEATS, THE RAPPER-PRODUCER DUO WEIGH IN ON THEIR DEBUT ALBUM.

PARIS TEXAS

WORDS BY KIRSTEN CHEN

PHOTOGRAPHY BY CLARE GILLEN

Paris Texas, the Compton-based hip-hop duo, make it a point to be agnostic about categorizing their music. Their debut album MID AIR doesn’t sway in any particular direction or fit under industry-fueled, catch-all descriptors. When asked about genre, members Louie Pastel and Felix instead emphasize that they’re simply writing about life’s emotional highs and lows. The guys are too busy crafting rhymes about cheeky international rendezvous and heavy-hitting family drama to be concerned with pigeonholing their sound or pretending to “say, act, and present [themselves] in a certain way.”

ON FELIX: HAT: TALENT'S OWN SHIRT: DIESEL

ON LOUIE: HAT: DSQUARED 2

PANTS: DIESEL

JERSEY: PHIPPS

And with a record full of gnarly guitar, static crunches, and flows that sometimes resemble the staccato screech of a hardcore frontman, the result is less “experimental” than intentional, controlled chaos. In other words, there’s no formula or paint-by-numbers template to MID AIR. Some songs get bookended with hallucinatory drum machine beats, while others feature laidback synths that are suited for a midnight cruise along the 405. The eclectic production is anchored by Louie Pastel and Felix’s consistently acerbic lyrics, which waver in subject matter from the poignant to the hilariously crass.

“WE WANTED TO DO OUR OWN THING FROM THE GATE.”

Authenticity has been a constant MO for the longtime friends. Since forming in 2018, Paris Texas’s success parallels their recent album’s title: They’ve taken off and navigated a whirlwind of new heights, all while staying true to their self-described “goofy” selves. Highlights include performing at Coachella, appearing on magazine covers, and racking up dizzying stream counts on an LP they describe as overcaffeinated. They’ve also embraced a multimedia approach to album rollouts, including complementary short films, a video game, and a tripped-out billboard teasing their festival appearances. “We wanted to do our own thing from the gate,” explains Felix.

It was natural for the duo to translate their relentless energy into a cohesive album—a feat they accomplished by exclusively “trying to impress each other,” not other people. This is also emblematic in the way they craft verses that build and play off each other, like friends who start an inside joke and compete to add more to the riff. Ultimately, the two artists have forged something that could only be described as a Paris Texas hitter—a fully-realized, wholly-distinct debut that suggests their creative pace will keep revving up from here.

ON FELIX:

SWEATER: DIESEL

PANTS: FAQTORY

BELT: DSQUARED2

SUNGLASSES: JACQUES MARIE MAGE

HAT & GLOVES: TALENT’S OWN

ON LOUIE:

JACKET AND PANTS: SACAI

SUNGLASSES: JAQUES MARIE MAGE

“IF I EVER FELT LIKE THIS PROJECT WAS A DETRIMENT TO OUR FRIENDSHIP, I’D PROBABLY QUIT."

ON FELIX: JACKET: PHIPPS

MY ENERGY TRANSFERS OVER TO YOU, NOW WE BOTH GET CONTACT HIGH, FEEL ME? I HAVE SO MUCH CAFFEINE IN ”ME.

“

WHERE DOES THE URGENT, MANIC ENERGY THAT DRIVES MID AIR COME FROM?

Felix: I don’t even know, just wanting to turn up. That desire can be felt in the music. Louie Pastel: Coffee, too much coffee. Drink that amount of caffeine, and the music’s gonna sound like that.

F: I don’t drink coffee.

LP: You’re also not making the beats…

F: Yeah, but I’m yelling on the tracks.

LP: But, it’s my energy that transfers over to you. Now, we both get a contact high, feel me? I have so much caffeine in me.

PARIS TEXAS HAS BEEN AROUND SINCE 2018, SO HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT STILL BEING CALLED “EXPERIMENTAL”?

F: It’s kind of dumb. I don’t like it.

LP: I don’t like it, either. I don’t think we’re that experimental. You know what’s really funny about getting called that? “Experimental” comes with a certain type of expectation, like this weird box where you have to say, act, and present yourself in a certain way.

DO YOU GUYS DISAGREE WHILE MAKING MUSIC?

LP: Not really.

F: I think we did on the song “...We Fall.” Because niggas wanted it shorter, then they said it was too long. They didn’t want me to rap on it. So, it took even longer [to make] because the only thing you think about is niggas not wanting you on the song and thinking it should be different. Then, you get in your head about it. Nigga wrote like five different verses to that one beat. YOUR LYRICS INCLUDE STORYTELLING, BUT DOES ANYTHING FROM REAL LIFE INSPIRE YOUR MUSIC?

F: Literally, just real life [as a whole]. It takes a while, but you realize how much speaking your truth and sharing what you’ve experienced in your life can be as heavy-hitting as the wittiest metaphor. You could say the craziest things about life, but because a lot of experiences or emotions are shared, people can still relate. Providing those feelings in your music will resonate more than being the most creative lyricist with the wordplay stuff. “Earth-2” was about me having an internet crush on someone, but then she started dating a basketball player. I never knew her, though, so it’s fine. And “Ain’t No High” was inspired by a real story from when my sister first got diagnosed with schizophrenia. AS PARIS TEXAS BECOMES MORE FAMOUS, HOW DO THE ARTIST PERSONA VERSIONS OF LOUIE PASTEL AND FELIX COMPARE TO THE ACTUAL PEOPLE?

LP: At this point in time, they’re probably synonymous.

F: It’s hard to play between the two, for sure. I’m a goofy dude.

LP: We’re both goofy dudes. As artists, I feel like Felix is probably more of a caricature of my thoughts or emotions—a warped extension of my own self. I think it would be different if I had more of a story-driven thing going, but I’ve chosen to make my artist persona closer to who I am in real life.

MID AIR ALSO HAS LYRICS ABOUT FAN INTERACTIONS. WHAT TYPE OF MUSIC FANS WERE YOU WHILE GROWING UP?

LP: I was a crazy gatekeeper. I liked having music that nobody knew about. I was crazy with it when I was younger. Now, I’m more open-minded, but back in the day, I got off from that. Like, “This band has zero followers, but they’re tight to me.” I like having that personal connection between me and the band, rapper, or whoever I liked.

F: I was nerding out. If I found an artist, I used to go down the catalog. It was crazy because it would unveil people who worked together in the past, people who I didn’t think would know each other. I’d be wanting to talk to niggas who inspired me with lyrics, beats, and their impact on music, but they’d just be trying to get hoes. Niggas had to tell me to calm down, so I stopped asking.

IN A PODCAST, YOU MENTIONED RAPPING ON RAP-ROCK BEATS, WHICH ARE “USUALLY WHITE.” WHY ARE YOU INTERESTED IN EXPLORING THESE CULTURAL FLIPS THROUGH YOUR MUSIC?

LP: I feel like I grew up in that culture. I’d get called “whitewashed” because I liked rock and I thought that was really funny. Now that I have that in my arsenal, I can use it to my advantage. It’s like, “Let me see what this sounds like, let me see if I can play both sides.”

F: That for sure happened when niggas was growing up. They’d be like, “Why do you talk like that?” I’m like, “What do you mean, bro? I’m just talking.” I didn’t think it was weird. But now it’s crazy because if you see a white nigga on the internet doing a really clean Nae-Nae, it’s OK. Everybody’s like, “Oh bet, he’s going off.” That’s crazy bro, because I’m rapping over this and people are like, “No, but if a white nigga does drill, it’s like, Oh my god…”

HOW HAS YOUR MUSICAL JOURNEY CHANGED YOUR FRIENDSHIP?

LP: Not much, honestly. It sucks sometimes because we’re so used to being friends. When it’s business time, we might have a different idea of how our processes work. If we were to go to the studio and make 30 songs like “Full English,” it’d be mad easy because that’s how we naturally are, joking around. It becomes interesting to find a way to work together, as opposed to being homies. I think the homie part of it is important, though. If I ever felt like this project was a detriment to our friendship, I’d probably quit.

ON LOUIE(LEFT):

HAT: DSQUARED 2

JERSEY: PHIPPS

PANTS: DIESEL

BOOTS: DOC MARTENS

ON FELIX(RIGHT):

SHIRT: DIESEL

PANTS: ERL

SHOES: CONVERSE

BOOTS: BALENCIAGA

COAT: BALENCIAGA

HAT: TALENT'S OWN

“WE JUST DO WHAT WE WANT WITH EVERYTHING. WE’RE TRYING TO IMPRESS EACH OTHER MORE THAN IMPRESS OTHER PEOPLE.”

ON LOUIE:

SHIRT: ROA HIKING

HAT: Y/PROJECT

PANTS: R13

GLOVES: ROA HIKING

BY IKHOOR

BY AIDAN PALERMO GRAPHIC

STYLING

WHEN MAKING MID AIR, WAS THERE A MOMENT WHERE YOU FELT LIKE YOU WERE TRULY TAKING OFF?

LP: When we made “Ain’t No High.” That was one of the earlier ones we finished, and I was like, “OK, something’s getting formed.” That sounds crazy, but that song was our parachute song—now I know I’m gonna hit the ground safely [laughs]. This album is gonna be something, even if they hate the 15 other songs, because this is the song everybody’s gonna like.

Felix: I felt really strongly about “Lift Off” and then the second half of “...We Fall.” Even when it was being played back later, I’d still be able to recall the time when we first recorded it and thought, “Oh shit, this is the outro.” It was crazy.

WHY IS IT IMPORTANT TO RELEASE SUPPLEMENTARY MATERIAL AROUND YOUR MUSIC LIKE SHORT FILMS, A VIDEO GAME, AND A PRE-COACHELLA BILLBOARD?

F: We wanted to do our own thing right out the gate.

LP: People often want [to project] a certain idea of themselves. Either they’re pretentious, they wanna be popular, or whatever else. What they do stems from those wants and that desire to be recognized—where we already recognized ourselves as being pretty cool. We just do what we want with everything. We’re trying to impress each other more than impress other people.

F: Everything changes and evolves over time. Rolling out an album and a short film at the same time would have been a lot harder to do a few years ago. Now, everybody’s trying to find their own way to push the standard. It’s like the evolved version of rolling shit out, if you care to do it.

DO YOU HAVE FUTURE PLANS FOR PARIS TEXAS, OR ARE YOU FIGURING IT OUT AS THINGS UNFOLD?

LP: We have it planned out.

F: We do?

LP: I do. You don’t listen.

Felix: Niggas won’t tell you nothing. I feel like half-and–half, but shit be changing. Even with MID AIR, there was an idea of what the project was supposed to be, then it changed. Shit be changing…

LP: But the skeletal version is still there.

F: For sure. I’m just saying: shit be changing.

ON LOUIE (LEFT): JACKET- ACNE

TIE, HAT, SHIRT- VINTAGE

ON FELIX (RIGHT): JACKET- DIESEL HAT, SHIRT, PANTS- TALENT'S OWN

THE CRAFT OF KARU

THE INDIA-BASED BRAND KARU RESEARCH WON’T COMPROMISE ITS DEDICATION TO SLOW FASHION, DESPITE ITS METORIC RISE IN THE GLOBAL INDUSTRY.

Despite being the world’s largest producer of textiles and garments, India’s contemporary fashion industry is surprisingly limited in its offering—with a luxury streetwear space that’s remained relatively untouched. Karu Research is here to change that.

Founded in 2021 by Indian designer and Forbes 30 Under 30 winner Kartik Kumra, the brand prides itself on a slow fashion approach to design and manufacturing. Kumra had no prior experience in fashion or design when he started Karu, but his lack of expertise was overpowered by an innate desire to prove that India’s textile industry had more to offer than just wedding clothes and, more importantly, that there was space for the country’s renowned craftsmanship within menswear.

With the spirit of preservation at its core, Karu Research designs its wares with vintage textiles sourced from collectors and traditional craftspeople. Part of the brand name translates to “artisan” in Sanskrit, so “research” acts as a clear indicator of its values and creative process, drawing on a resourcefulness drilled into Kumra during his childhood in India.

Across five seasons of menswears collections, Karu Research’s pieces have included patchwork printed trousers, hand-woven shirts, and knitted cardigans, each their own unique combination of vintage textile, handfinished texture, and Kumra’s own contemporary vision. To wit, the founder says the brand is “about building relationships with people who have perfected their craft, then respectfully working their skills onto a larger platform, in a global context. The industry is lacking that perspective.”

As the brand prepared for the launch of its first womenswear collection and solidified its Paris Fashion Week plans, we sat down with Kumra to find out more about how Karu Research went from a one-man band to a LVMH Prizewinning artisan empire.

HOW DID KARU ORIGINALLY COME ABOUT?

It started off as a college project when I was studying in the US. As both a consumer and enthusiast, I was like, “Why isn’t there an Indian brand at these cool menswear stores?” The initial idea was about traveling to different artisan groups around India and contextualizing their craft in a way that seemed current, relevant, and appropriate. I was messing around with samples for about a year, and then we did our first season, SS22, at a showroom in London. [MR PORTER, SSENSE, and 10 Corso Como] picked it up, and though I was a junior in college then, I was like, “OK, this is definitely taking priority over school.” Now, it’s just about trying to figure out how I can keep it up.

WHAT WERE YOU STUDYING AT THE TIME?

Economics.

DO YOU THINK THAT INFLUENCED HOW YOU RAN YOUR BUSINESS OR BOOSTED YOUR CONFIDENCE THAT THIS WAS SOMETHING YOU COULD DO?

Maybe. Economics courses don’t necessarily translate to business, but they prepare you for business because you’re in an environment where people operate at a high standard and you develop a keen fight-or-flight response.

WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT GAP BETWEEN “I WANT TO DO THIS” AND “I AM DOING THIS”?

I figured it out as I went along. I watched a lot of YouTube, and I got a bunch of books. I was immersing myself in learning about menswear and, eventually, you develop your own perspective. But there was no formal education. I used to collect a lot of vintage workwear, so that archive was what we based the initial Karu collection on. The larger challenge was logistics, finding the right factory with the right standards and ethical values. The design part was a learning process over the course of five seasons. I still think it’s a work in progress.

WOULD YOU SAY THAT YOUR BACKGROUND AND HERITAGE PLAY A ROLE IN THE RESOURCEFULNESS OF KARU RESEARCH’S CREATIVE PROCESS?

Absolutely. A lot of the pieces are upcycled. We frequently work with vintage Kantha quilts and a lot of the one-of-one stuff is upcycled from other vintage textiles that I’ve found. Conceptually, it comes through in our slow fashion

practices, where it’s a function of creating goods that have preciousness around them. They’re made by hand and the embroideries are done by handloom. We’re trying to create timeless clothes. As a result, a lot of time goes into making each piece. When we educate the consumer on that, they tend to value the clothing more and keep it for longer.

WHERE DO YOU SOURCE THE FABRICS FROM?

Most of them are custom or sourced through an archive. We’re working with artisans, too, because we have to produce larger quantities than archival stock usually allows for. Our Kantha quilts are sourced from warehouses in Bengal and Rajasthan. Working with vintage textiles means a lot of negotiating and looking at pieces from personal collections, as well.

AT A TIME WHEN PRODUCTION IS BEING SPED UP AND TECHNOLOGY IS INCREASINGLY BEING USED TO MEET DEMANDS, HOW DOES THE BRAND ENSURE THAT IT STAYS TRUE TO ITS VALUES—WHICH, IN A LOT OF WAYS, STAND IN DIRECT OPPOSITION TO THAT SHIFT?

There is just no aspiration for us to do anything else. What makes us different is what makes us cool, so we’re gonna keep doing that. It would be nice if we could just scale up by pressing a button, but then the brand loses its essence, and we don’t want to do that.

WHAT KIND OF FUTURE DID YOU ENVISION FOR THE BRAND WHEN YOU FIRST STARTED OUT?

It wasn’t this, or at least not so fast. We’re already in several of the best stores in the world. It’s kind of crazy for that to happen this quickly, because I haven’t seen it happen for another Indian brand before. I had to adapt our expectations of the business with where it was organically going. It was like, “OK, this is my life now. It has to be.”

THERE WAS PROBABLY A CONVERSATION WITH YOUR PARENTS AT THAT POINT BECAUSE YOU WERE STILL IN SCHOOL, RIGHT? HOW DID THAT GO?

Asian parents and creative businesses haven’t always aligned, but my parents have been largely supportive. That’s also partially because the business has done pretty well—it’s been profitable from day one so there has never been a reason for them to doubt it. Stuff like being carried by Selfridges really helped because that’s a store that has

“THE INITIAL IDEA WAS ABOUT TRAVELING TO DIFFERENT ARTISAN GROUPS AROUND INDIA AND CONTEXTUALIZING THEIR CRAFT IN A WAY THAT SEEMED CURRENT, RELEVANT, AND APPROPRIATE.”

a reputation outside of menswear. Winning the LVMH Prize and Forbes 30 Under 30 further established that credibility, less so for my parents but more for outside family members. Now they get that it’s more significant than just a hobby.

It’s hard to argue with physical proof. It’s funny, though, because there’s always that disconnect with creative careers and Indian parents, despite the fact that the wedding industry in India is so huge.

I guess because this was a more alien concept, as well. [Karu Research is part of] this cool menswear scene with indie brands that exist in a place where only enthusiasts know about it. That hasn’t really hit India yet. Or at least it hadn’t before we launched. Maybe it’s changing now, but that’s why I always had an idea in my mind of what it was going to be.

YOU'RE NOT FAZED BY TRENDS OR COMPETING WITH FASTPACED BRANDS, BUT HOW DO YOU THINK AI AND TECHNOLOGY WILL IMPACT THE FASHION INDUSTRY?

It probably harms people at some level, but for others, it’s useful. I don’t think there’s a definite answer for either. I’ve used AI for mood boarding a couple of times myself, but nothing really beyond that. For Karu, that just feels so far removed because of how slow and intimate our production is. I think we’re lucky to be the one Indian brand with big stockists and celebrity co-signs, so I view it as an opportunity to work with the talent that exists in India instead of using digital platforms. I’m always looking for people who have an interesting perspective, and I don’t know how AI fits into that right now.

ARE THERE ANY OTHER BRANDS THAT YOU’RE LOOKING TO OR INSPIRED BY AT THE MOMENT?

I think there are definitely businesses that you aspire to be like. Take Dries Van Noten. He ran his brand independently for 30 years and it was super successful. Something like that is inspirational. A lot of brands start off by being craftbased, but when they scale up, they lose that and end up with a diluted version of what initially made the product interesting. We don’t want to do that. The way that we do craft preservation is by employing craftspeople. Our scale is achieved by employing more people, which slows the process down. It’s not as easy as just working with a bigger factory, but that does put us into a slightly different space in terms of what already exists in the market.

THAT MAKES SENSE. SO RIGHT NOW, MENSWEAR IS THE FOCUS. WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS FOR THE FUTURE OF THE BRAND?

We’re in the process of developing the womenswear collections, and seeing if they’ll be ready in time for Paris Fashion Week. The idea is to make a full-fledged Indian heritage brand that works with the right partners and has its own brick-and-mortar stores in all the key markets. It’s weird: Karu Research doesn’t feel like a brand right now because I’m in it. From the outside, I know there’s an element of credibility that comes with being in 47 stores, but since I’m on the inside, I’m just like, “How is this happening? How do we ride the wave?”

OAKLEY (VINTAGE), JERSEY: TELFAR, SHIRT: UNIQLO, EARRINGS: MARTINE ROSE X LL, LLC

DURAG: JANE WADE, SNEAKERS: ASICS GEL-KAYANO 14

(RIGHT) SUNGLASSES: GIVENCHY, SHIRT: K.NGSLEY, PANTS: KWK, WATCH: G-SHOCK,

BELT: DSQUARED2

OAKLEY (VINTAGE), JERSEY: TELFAR, SHIRT: UNIQLO, EARRINGS: MARTINE ROSE X LL, LLC,

JANE WADE, SNEAKERS: ASICS GEL-KAYANO 14

BALENCIAGA,

CAP: ANONYMOUS

CLUB, HEADPHONES:

SONY

(LEFT) SUNGLASSES: BOTTEGA VENETA, JACKET AND TIE: BUSHLAND, TROUSERS: WILLY CHAVARRIA, SHOES: FERRAGAMO

LANG,

(RIGHT) SUNGLASSES: OAKLEY, HAT: BARRAGÁN, JACKET: HELMUT

SHOES: GIVENCHY

STIMU LATION Chapter 3

STIMU LATION

アンダーカバー The Undercover Artist

WORDS BY DYLAN KELLY

PHOTOS BY TARO MIZUTANI

アンダーカバー Undercover

JUN TAKAHASHI 高橋盾 NEVER INTENDED TO PRESENT HIS PAINTINGS FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION, BUT HIS NEW EXHIBITION IS A RARE LOOK INTO THE UNDERCOVER FOUNDER’S ARTISTIC PROCESS.

Sometimes,

海の近くのアトリエで1日中、絵を描いていることもあります。

I spend all day painting in my atelier near the sea.

This past August, Tokyo’s GALLERY TARGET adopted a distinct, punkish aura. Its walls were adorned with 26 enigmatic oil paintings depicting canonical characters from literature and pop culture, all of whom were indistinguishable due to the absence of their usual starry eyes. Aside from one portrait that noticeably resembled David Bowie (the subject’s tall coiffed hair giving strong clues), the canvases maintained their ambiguity, even as onlookers moved closer to the frame. Revered Japanese musicians Utada Hikaru and Yumi Matsutoya lent their idiosyncratic vocals to the room, while the eyeless portraits left those with pupils intrigued. This was the opening for Jun Takahashi’s first-ever solo exhibition, THEY CAN SEE MORE THAN YOU CAN SEE, and each piece was sold, well, in the blink of an eye.

Takahashi was not formally known as a studio artist until recently; most would identify him as the Japanese streetwear pioneer behind UNDERCOVER, the insurgent brand he founded over 30 years ago. Those close to the designer, however, have long known of his affinity for the arts. “Since I was a child, I used to draw and doodle whenever I had free time,” he tells us. His inaugural exhibition was an extension of that youthful passion, but it’s a practice that he’s refined over the past decade while moonlighting outside his design work.

Now, with the curtain to his painting career officially lifted, Takahashi is embracing a new chapter and seeking to cement a legacy in a medium that has quietly consumed his downtime for many years. “Sometimes, I spend all day painting in my atelier near the sea,” he says. “Sometimes, I wake up early in the morning and start drawing right away. I usually draw until the evening. Drawing is like stress relief for me.” His practice is grounding and underscores his identity as a creative polymath. Still, Takahashi has never viewed his canvases as a business endeavor.

UNDERCOVER, like its designer, can be defined by extreme dichotomies. Speaking with System Magazine in 2018, Takahashi called himself “normal on the outside, alien on the inside.” For instance, UNDERCOVER’s Fall 2018 show, “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” commented on the tumult and bliss of teenage adolescence through the contrast of upbeat, Americana-influenced school uniforms and metallic, dark-minded formalwear. (Its soundtrack was in alignment, spanning Paul Anka’s feel-good tunes to Julee Cruise’s somber ballads.)

UNDERCOVER’s mantra of making “noise, not clothes” has long served as the backbone of the brand’s identity. Spring 2015’s homage to rock band Joy Division, Fall 2016’s references to British mod culture, and Spring 2016’s tribute to David Lynch indicate the diversity of Takahashi’s subcultural explorations, while Spring 2010’s crossover with German industrial designer Dieter Rams and Spring 2024’s interpretations of Helen Verhoeven’s paintings articulated the brand’s penchant for artistic collaborations. Takahashi is the chief mastermind behind UNDERCOVER’s entire operation: he is the designer, the illustrator, the writer, the stylist, the music supervisor, and everything in between. More than a fashion impresario, Takahashi is a world-builder, and his curatorial instincts lend themselves seamlessly to painting.

By removing the eyes an ambiguous dark appeared, greatly my aesthetic

目を描き潰すことで、曖昧でダークな世界観が現れ、 僕の美意識を大いに刺激しました。

and worldview which stimulated aesthetic sense

GALLERY TARGET’s exhibition notes emphasize that his art was “originally just a hobby” and that it was “never meant for public presentation.” In fact, the artist himself equates his practice to a soothing decompressant from the intensities that come from leading one of fashion’s most renowned labels. Like his design work, Takahashi’s paintings are rooted in paradox: As his technique steadily improved through practice, he found himself dissatisfied with his on-the-nose depictions of pop culture icons. Instead, he opted to obscure the eyes of each subject, masking their identities.

Masks, in the literal sense, are impossible to ignore in Takahashi’s work at UNDERCOVER, too. His Spring 2011 collection introduced the fictitious anti-hero “Underman,” concealed under a Daft Punk-like helmet. Fall 2017 opened with a pandemic-preceding facemask reading ”Brainwashed Generation.” It’s clear that his paintings are driven by the same intentional mystique that informs his approach to crafting clothes. But, in the words of Jean Paul Gaultier, “fashion is not art.” And while that statement might incite debate for some, Takahashi concurs: “Fashion and art are completely different things.” For the Japanese savant, art is a purer form of creative expression, “because you can complete it all by yourself from start to finish.” Fashion, he says, is “built on teamwork.”

Though Takahashi independently established UNDERCOVER while he was studying design at Tokyo’s Bunka Fashion College in 1990, it was collaboration that initially positioned his brand across the fashion cognoscenti’s radar. In school, the budding designer formed a friendship with NIGO, who would later achieve global acclaim for his pioneering cult label, A Bathing Ape (BAPE). Both of their passion projects turned professional in 1993 when they opened NOWHERE, the beloved Tokyo store that initially served as an outpost for early-days BAPE and UNDERCOVER apparel, before becoming a fundamental pillar in Japan’s Ura-Harajuku (or “hidden” Harajuku) streetwear circle.

Three decades later, NOWHERE only exists in faded photographs. Takahashi’s brand has evolved into a globally influential enterprise, and he’s begun familiarizing the world with his studio art. Still, even with the abundant success he’s enjoyed, Takahashi affirms the importance of teamwork and the loyalty that fuels its longevity. “I had dinner with NIGO last night,” he says. “The relationship hasn’t changed [over the course of 33 years]. I think that means we’ve both remained pure.”

Art, however, is Takahashi’s solo mission, and his subversive palette can be attributed to the anti-establishment ethos that defined UNDERCOVER’s formative years.

The invitations to Takahashi’s first-ever Paris Fashion Week show for Spring 2003, titled “Scab,” emphasized the brand’s ongoing commitment to breaking the status quo and raising eyebrows. The flier pictured a woman’s neatly-crossed legs, but one knee was plagued with gnarly injuries outlined in dried-up blood and crusted over with intricate clots. Here, Takahashi juxtaposed feminine beauty with the unabashedly grotesque, and the collection that followed became the first to include the designer’s defining slash-and-burn style, which mirrored a similar tension. The line’s frayed hems, undone strings, stripped patchwork, and trailing

tassels were gorgeously mangled. With the mutilated silhouettes and flawed finishes, Takahashi made his point: fashion contains multitudes. It’s a discipline that can be equal parts chaotic and controlled, and the trick is to be purposeful when embracing mayhem.

His artwork submits to this doctrine, as well, with two-dimensional portraits of blind figures that somehow still seem to meet the viewer’s gaze. Adorned with experimental markings, scrawled text, and waxy finishes, Takahashi’s paintings, much like his clothes, are both intimate and eerie.

Over the past 15 years, Nike, fragment design, and UNIQLO have all tapped the designer to lend his expertise; as has Supreme, who in 2015 established a collaborative relationship with Takahashi that resulted in lawless streetwear with phrases like “ANARCHY IS THE KEY” on leather jackets, “GENERATION FUCK YOU” on MA-1 bombers, and Public Enemy-inspired graphic puffers. While perhaps overlooked during its release, Takahashi’s passion for the arts also came into focus through a 2019 team-up with the acclaimed American photographer Cindy Sherman. A Valentino collaboration that same year, which drew inspiration from Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, lent cinematic themes to Takahashi’s flying saucer motifs and the Italian house’s storied tailoring, ultimately pushing UNDERCOVER into fashion’s upper echelon.

The brand’s elaborate identity and standards adhere to the expectations of streetwear and sportswear, haute couture and casual wear, without skirting a cohesive vision. “High fashion, streetwear, and athleticwear—they have evenly influenced me fashion-wise,” Takahashi says. “All those different elements are all the same in me. So what I create is a remix of them.” Outside of this medley, Takahashi’s zeal for sartorial mingling extends further than traditional subcategories; he infuses other creative practices, like sculpture and music composition, into his projects, pushing the limits of his “designer” title.

There’s always been an unorthodox, distorted interpretation of what’s aesthetically pleasing in Takahashi’s work, and he notes there’s an “eccentric beauty” to his eyeless paintings, too. For example, he’s careful to adorn his idolic subjects with silk curtains on their frames in a delicate, almost loving gesture. The paintings’ blurred finishes are consistent with his attraction to the incomplete, offering a tasteful interpretation of what GALLERY TARGET calls his “closed-off worldview.” Where Takahashi’s UNDERCOVER predominantly references infamous cultural staples, like Aflred Hitchock’s film portfolio, Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon album, and, most recently, the wailing banshees of Irish folklore (which trickle into Spring 2024’s designs through melancholic prints and a grim color palette), his paintings also call on real pop culture sources.

Still, the characters and public figures spotlighted in Takahashi’s artworks are much more difficult to decipher. His debut paintings depict “musicians and actors who have had a significant impact on his life,” but the tightlipped artist leaves it at that. “Some things can only be seen in darkness, disappearing in brightness,” reads the exhibition notes. This philosophy not only articulates the sentiment behind Takahashi’s brushstrokes, but also the concurrent thread that weaves through his garments at UNDERCOVER each season. Art as a medium

アートの場合は、最初から最後まで自分1人で完成させることが できますが、ファッションはチームワークで成り立っています。

With art, you can it all by But fashion on

complete yourself from start to finish. is built on teamwork.

Searching for is like breathing

新しい事柄を探すことは、僕にとって呼吸をするようなものだから、 そういったものと繋がっているのは、ごく自然なことなんです。

for me, so it’s that I stay connected with them.

new things

very natural

for creative expression, however, is more interpretative in nature, and that’s exciting for Takahashi, who has never been a fan of tying things up in a bow. “We’re human beings—perfection is not cool,” he famously once said.

Two words—“chaos” and “balance”—often land on UNDERCOVER’s apparel, and their divergent themes apply seamlessly to Takahashi’s canvases. It was the designer’s clutch on these two polar words that offered him the limitless potential to exceed in fashion, but it’s his multidisciplinary approach to design that now lets his artistic vision transcend beyond the confines of clothing. While his resume could confidently seat him at any fashion table, Takahashi’s shift into the arts is indicative of his present-day priorities, albeit ones that have been a long time coming.

“I’ve reached the age of counting backward,” the 53-year-old now says. Perhaps, it’s this perspective that propelled his decision to introduce his artistic pastimes to the public. After all, his ultimate dream, he says, is “a free life that is not tied to work or money.” Art offers Takahashi a therapeutic transition into his next chapter, one that he’s eager to lean into.

That’s not to say that he will step away from UNDERCOVER. Takahashi’s work ethic remains as poised as ever, but there’s a newfound composure to his outlook that suggests a satisfaction with what he’s already built. “I’m thinking about how to enjoy the rest of my life in my own way,” he says. In pursuit of pleasure, the designer’s mid-life conquest in picking up the paintbrush has come full-circle, seamlessly translating his creative sensibilities from the sewing machine to the easel.

“ One thing I can say is [that I’ll be following] my intuition,” he concludes, pondering the future. Never mind the road to what’s forthcoming; it’s his instincts that have always led the way. His sixth sense is fervorous, and where there’s passion, there’s breakthrough. That is, if you’re Jun Takahashi.

WELCOME TO THE

A conversation with founder Yeong Min Cho reveals how Thug Club is redefining the image of South Korean fashion, both domestically and abroad.

Yeong Min Cho—AKA Thug Min—is not just the founder of streetwear brand Thug Club: he’s a living embodiment of the rebelliousness and individuality it stands for. In his homebase of Seoul, Min is constantly turning heads and making noise—be it cruising 10-deep through the busy streets of Itaewon with his motorcycle crew and their Harleys, or filming himself lighting a cigarette with the exhaust pipe of his custom TC Mercedes G-Wagon. This may be totally normal behavior

for a baller in any Western metropolis, but in buttoned-up Seoul, which adheres to a strict set of cultural norms, it’s basically sacrilege. Min can often be found sans-shirt as well, but on the rare occasion he is fully clothed, he’s head-to-toe in his brand’s unmistakable garments marked by raw-edged denim, shimmering metal emblems, and diamond or crescent-shaped symbols.

Thug Club is Polo Ralph Lauren meets Chrome Hearts meets medieval attire primed for an after hours party in a smoky dungeon. It makes no sense and perfect sense at the same time. And that’s exactly what Min wants: to rattle the cage of Korea’s often straight-laced society, where fully-formed pop stars are spat out of K-Pop schools, and mandatory military service can interrupt your career even if you’re the country’s biggest celebrity (just ask G-Dragon). Duty-bound social protocols leave little room for hijinks, no matter how famous you may become.

“I WANT EVERYONE TO EXPERIENCE THIS new wave IN KOREAN CULTURE.”

That said, the allure of K-pop and the success of the country’s entertainment industry have garnered so much global attention that there’s even a word for the success: hallyu, or the Korean Wave. In the last half-decade, that wave has seen K-pop groups like BTS and BLACKPINK set record streaming numbers, Squid Game become Netflix’s most-watched show of all time, and South Korea’s burgeoning luxury market cash out on high-end goods to the tune of $16.8 billion in 2022, a 24% increase from the year prior. Global fame and vast fortunes are now part of how the world views South Korea’s pop culture.

Min’s not opposed to riding this wave—business is business— but he’s probing behind the glitz and glamor for a more nuanced look at the country’s creative class, fueling its fierce undercurrent of individualistic pride instead of presenting a palatable version for global audiences. When he first started Thug Club in 2018, Min saw a need in the marketplace for a label that went against the grain of South Korea’s tradition-steeped social climate. Hip-hop, long an agent for free speech, boundless expression, and social change, was a driving force behind the label’s creation. The founder used the lessons he learned from his favorite artists to extend a middle finger to restrictive traditions. And if you want to tell him he can’t, Thug Club’s viral boxers say it all: “SucK MY DicK.”

From early co-signs provided by similarly-minded Korean artists like CL, Zico, and Rain, to later endorsements from SZA, 24KGoldn, and Central Cee—with the latter wearing the TC Web Stud Beanie in the video for his smash “Let Go”—Min’s message has caught on both at home and across the globe. He and Kwon Ji Yool, the brand’s design director since 2021, have consistently placed nonconformity at the center of their strategy: where there is order, Min welcomes disruption. They came to stir the pot and now they’re here to stay, recently opening the label’s first flagship store, the “TC CASTLE,” and continuing to present their unique take on hallyu in bold, unapologetic fashion.

“I want everyone to experience this new wave in Korean culture,” Min says.

In his own words, here’s how he does it.

HOW DID THUG CLUB COME TO BE AND WHAT INSPIRED IT?

Growing up, I experienced American hip-hop culture through YouTube and foreign rap community forums. I gravitated toward the term “thug life,” which often meant building something from nothing. I wanted to live it, so the name “Thug Club” was created. At first, I ran the brand by myself for about three years. Around 2021, I was losing interest in the project and then Jiyool came along. He was the only person around me who had been in fashion for a while, so I confided in him and we [started building] together.

THE BRAND HAS A CULT-LIKE FOLLOWING. HOW DID YOU APPROACH BUILDING THIS AUDIENCE, BOTH IN KOREA AND GLOBALLY?

It started small. I made the clothes, my friends would buy them, and then they would give me feedback. My friends would wear our clothes to shows, and, through association and word of mouth, others would find the brand. Even my friends’ parents like them—and surprisingly, nobody pulls off TC clothes better than my dad. Everyone who wears Thug Club is part of our crew, really.

YOUR MOST FAMOUS PIECE IS THE “SucK MY DicK” UNDERWEAR THAT WENT VIRAL. HOW DID THE IDEA FOR THIS DESIGN COME ABOUT, AND WHAT WAS IT LIKE HAVING A PRODUCT BLOW UP LIKE THAT?

I’ve always been inspired by American hip-hop culture and the way it influences fashion and styling. I love the oversized fit, the relaxed look, and how the clothing effortlessly falls—like with baggy pants, which gives you an opportunity to show off your underwear. I saw people my age who were into the same things that I was wearing, such as Polo Ralph Lauren briefs with the waistband logos showing, so I reinterpreted them with a more provocative stance. The virality was a crazy feeling because it went fully global: I recently traveled to New York and everyone I met was immediately interested in the boxers.

YOU RECENTLY OPENED A FLAGSHIP STORE IN SEOUL. CAN YOU TELL US MORE ABOUT ITS CONCEPT AND WHAT THE RETAIL EXPERIENCE IS LIKE?

Simply put, we made a cool clothing store. The whole concept of the space incorporates all the things I love. It’s for consumers from around the world to come here and be like, “Oh, there’s a space like this in Korea.” At least, that’s what I hope to see. It breaks my heart when I see those outside of Korea unable to enjoy various parts of our modern cultural infrastructures and events. I want everyone to experience this new wave in Korean culture.

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE LANDSCAPE OF FASHION IN THE CURRENT ERA OF “DROP CULTURE,” WHERE BRANDS OPERATE AT A FEVERISH PACE?

The market trajectory of fashion has already been saturated and I think there’s nothing new left to create. Our world is overflowing with information and resources, so it’s natural for us to utilize them by taking advantage of archives and vintage pieces. There are already standards set that people are comfortable with. It takes a long time to make people understand something new, so why fix something that’s not broken? There’s no need to stress about creating something new. It’s all about a re-interpretation of ideas to grow the culture, and in this case, the hip-hop scene.

WHAT IS YOUR TAKE ON THE WORLD’S GROWING INTEREST IN SOUTH KOREA’S CONTEMPORARY CULTURE AND ITS INFLUENCE ON THE FASHION INDUSTRY AND BEYOND?

The growth trajectory is good for the industry, but I actually think unemployment amongst young people is a big problem in Korea. Korean parents can be so obsessed with making sure kids go to good high schools and colleges that many of these people, including some of my friends, lost their way, forgot about their individuality, and now don’t have their own path. South Koreans are very hard on each other and I think it’s because the world is getting worse. I want to help those who don’t know how to enjoy life and bring foreign capital into South Korea. The question is: Will they listen to me? Maybe. For starters, we’re building a park in front of our flagship store in partnership with the local government. It’ll be open to everyone, and hopefully be a place for our community to congregate without fear of judgment.

WHERE IS THUG CLUB HEADED IN THE FUTURE? Outer space.

THE ART OF THE AI PROMPT

RENOWNED ARTIST JON RAFMAN POSITS WHY AI IS ESSENTIAL FOR PUSHING THE BOUNDARIES ON IMAGE-MAKING, CREATIVE EXPRESSION, AND HOW WE VALUE ART.

WORDS BY JON RAFMAN

ARTWORK BY JON RAFMAN

In late 2020, I began exploring advanced AI image generation. The progress in AI algorithms over the past three years has been so profound, it’s akin to transitioning from composing melodies on an ancient lyre to orchestrating a symphony with digital audio workstations.

The specific advancements that draw this extreme analogy include a rapid evolution in neural networks, improved training techniques, and the democratization of GPU resources. Pre-2020, most AI algorithms were akin to primitive sketching tools, capable of creating intriguing but rudimentary designs. Customization of the algorithm required extensive coding knowledge. AI art was more about technical execution, and artists were confined by the rigidity of algorithms and a limited ability to articulate abstract concepts.

With AI’s increasing sophistication, the role of the prompt writer has become central. Each image generated needs a directive to initiate computation. These prompts involve a blend of intuition, imagination, and understanding of the AI model’s behavior.

In the early days of photography, photographers were not just technicians who clicked the shutter; they were also chemists who understood the nuances of film and development processes, mise-en-scène, et cetera. Similarly, in traditional printmaking, the printmaker had to understand the intricacies of their tools, inks, and materials to achieve the desired result. Rather than diminishing artistic skill, AI actually broadens creative freedom, much like the way the printing press expanded and democratized literary expression during the Renaissance. Engineering a prompt is not just about providing a clear directive, but also phrasing or framing the prompt in a way that elicits a meaningful response from the AI. The artist anticipates how the model might interpret the prompt, and this often requires a deep familiarity with the model’s quirks, tendencies, and potential outputs. With the rise of prompt writing, the artist-promptist, becomes akin to a conductor, guiding an orchestra of computational processes.

The role of the promptist is not to dominate the AI but to engage with it, to understand its capabilities and limitations, and to learn its “language.” The unpredictable nature of AI image generation is not a limitation but a tool, producing results that even the promptist could not have conceived until they are generated. The ability of AI to merge seemingly disparate aesthetics allows for the creation of unique hybrids and previously inconceivable visual styles and narratives.

Like a detective, you look for clues through constant trial and error. You let the process lead you until the work crystallizes into something meaningful.

And like a poet, the promptist uses words in a precise and concise manner. But prompt writing diverges from traditional forms of poetic composition in that it is not crafted for melodious

sound or aesthetic beauty. The ultimate objective lies in evoking a response from the network, not always in the clarity of the text. Formulating prompts is the art of transforming human imagination into machine-readable instructions. The prompt is a poem in the mind of the machine.

Artists have long turned to the irrational for inspiration. Look to Dante Alighieri, Hieronymus Bosch, William Blake, and surrealism, to name a few. The prompt writer operates more like a mystic than a pure rationalist. There’s an element of unpredictability and magic in composing prompts. The promptist taps into a creative intuition that may lead to outputs beyond the reach of traditional, logical processes. They echo an ancient truth enshrined in sacred texts and philosophical treatises: words are foundational to creation. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” The ancient Hebrew phrase “ebrah k’dabri,” colloquially known as “abracadabra,” translates to “I create like the word.”

The magic of “abracadabra” lives on in the hands of the contemporary artist, not through incantations but through technology and its required protocols. The artist, much like a divine creator or ancient shaman, initiates the process of creation with a Word—a prompt.

AI, of course, has its detractors, including a large number of artists who have a strong dislike for the technology’s involvement in art-making. There’s no shortage of plainly ugly and uninspiring images being produced with these algorithms. But that’s true of any image production technology, including painting, drawing, and photography. This feeling seems tied to the belief that art should be human-made, a view that has led to a lot of criticism of my work, including a recent album cover I designed for Lil Yachty.

We have a tendency to fetishize time-consuming artistic labor. But the time it takes to produce a work has nothing to do with its aesthetic and cultural value. I have never considered handcrafted works as somehow more authentic, natural, or valuable. Only the final work matters. The means of achieving the artwork are irrelevant.

A recent United States District Court decision denying copyright protection for AI-generated art, based on the lack of a “guiding human hand,” fails to consider the essential human role in creating such art. The judge’s ruling overlooks the nuanced relationship between creativity and technological facilitation. This narrow interpretation would lead to puzzling inconsistencies if applied across the board in art history.

When photography was introduced, it too was considered a mere mechanical reproduction, a novelty lacking human touch. Today, it is accepted as an art form with full copyright protection. The artist’s eye, their choice of composition, focus, and subject matter confer originality to the photograph. Also consider Marcel Duchamp’s work “Fountain,” a ready-made urinal that was presented

as art. By the court’s logic, this work, lacking traditional craftsmanship or the direct touch of the artist’s hand, would be considered illegitimate. In fact, the work is of monumental importance in art history, for it challenged and expanded the very definition of art.

The court’s ruling echoes other naysayers of AI-generated art, who are anchored to a conservative notion that fails to recognize how creativity evolves and expands with technological advancements. These outdated views not only neglect the complexities of modern creative processes, but also risk stifling artistic innovation.

AI challenges our traditional values in art by treating all data impartially, without regard to context or aesthetic hierarchy. In the algorithm’s eye, a Renaissance masterpiece and a meme are rendered equal. This flattening of artistic value disrupts our conventional understanding of art’s significance, compelling us to redefine what is meaningful or beautiful in art.

Again, the effects of AI image generation on imagemaking bear similarities to the rise of photography in the 19th century. Photography freed painting from the mechanical tasks of reproduction. It sought to automate the process of replicating the forms and lines of human vision onto a two-dimensional surface. Pierre August Renoir said, “Photography freed painting from a lot of tiresome chores, starting with family portraits.” Photography drove painting forward by making image-making accessible, inexpensive, and absolved it of the responsibility to depict the world factually. Photography took over the role of rendering realistic portraits, documentary evidence, and so on, liberating painters to focus on other dimensions of painting, such as color, light, and movement. In a similar vein, AI promises to handle banal, repetitive tasks. In an ideal world, that opens up opportunities for humans to do something better with their time. As the work of writers such as Kafka illustrates, tasks like these stifle human potential. AI art emphasizes the meaning and beauty of the result, not the process.

Yet, as we embrace the freedoms of AI artmaking, a critical understanding of its limits is crucial. True insight begins with recognizing the boundaries set by the technology itself. One persistent issue with AI tools is the censorship resulting from filters implemented by companies like OpenAI and Midjourney, leading to biases or limitations in the generated content. On the surface, AI is merely another tool—an indifferent, emotionless program without any moral understanding of its output. The images it produces don’t carry inherent meaning. They rely on human interpretation to imbue them with significance, aesthetic value, context, and a position within art history. But upon closer examination, AI is not truly unbiased. Algorithms, such as those by OpenAI, are constrained by filters and “community standards” that reflect and enforce societal norms. These rules guide the AI, prohibiting certain prompts and shaping potential outputs.

“WITH THE RISE OF AI PROMPT WRITING, THE ARTIST-PROMPTIST, BECOMES AKIN TO A CONDUCTOR, GUIDING AN ORCHESTRA OF COMPUTATIONAL PROCESSES.”

“RATHER THAN DIMINISHING ARTISTIC SKILL, AI ACTUALLY BROADENS CREATIVE FREEDOM.”

This underscores the immense influence these tech companies wield. Not only are certain inputs prohibited, but the AI itself is trained to generate responses that are politically and socially acceptable and noncontroversial. Machine learning algorithms are not mirrors reflecting the prompt writer’s intent; they are complex lenses, refracting biases and socio-political trends. Much like the algorithms that dictate Google search results or the content on our Instagram feeds—controls that dictate what we consume and shape our perception of reality—the algorithmic suppression of controversial responses on ChatGPT or explicit imagery on MidJourney puts controls on the information we produce and enforces definite limits on expression.

Companies like OpenAI and MidJourney, concerned about legal liability for generating unsavory or illegal content, have appointed themselves as arbiters of truth and goodness. Much like Google, Facebook, et al., they act as moral guardians. This stance often stems from a calculated effort to appease advertisers, uphold a carefully-crafted public image, and avoid controversy. It’s driven

more by self-interest than genuine ethical concern. These companies’ self-appointment as arbiters of truth is ironic given their unlicensed collection of user data, the foundation for their outputs. A double standard exists, allowing them unlimited access to free public data without reciprocating accessibility to their tools. This approach contradicts the Internet’s radical promise of open data access.

As we recognize the boundaries and wrestle with the control exerted by these technological giants, we are also presented with an extraordinary opportunity. The true detriment to artistic value, for both creators and viewers, arises when artists detach from the inherent creative possibilities these tools offer. AI is good for art because it puts pressure on traditional approaches and forces us to refine our understanding of artistic expression. And while the images are produced by an impartial, machine-driven tool, viewers still interpret and project intention onto them. This interplay between the automated algorithm and the human quest for meaning reflects our contemporary experience.

MOWALOLA’S

GLOBALIZED GLOW-UP

The artist behind the eponymous fashion brand invites you to enter her world: “There’s no bouncer checking IDs.”

WORDS BY AMELIA ABRAHAM

In an airy studio off London’s Brick Lane, Mowalowa Ogunlesi— founder of her eponymous brand Mowalowa—is working on “Crash,” her upcoming SS24 collection. “The name comes from David Cronenberg,” the designer says. “But I don’t want to share too much. There’s nothing worse than a spoiler to a good movie.” Ogunlesi splits her office with a team of 11, who’ve been playing Nigerian rapper Deto Black and producer Kingdom on repeat as they progress on the brand’s sixth collection. She rearranges the furniture and studio layout every few months to keep things feeling fresh, much like the brand’s fast-evolving output.

At age 28, the Lagos-born, London-based designer helms one of the world’s most promising young labels. Mowalowa, officially founded in 2017, is known for PVC and leather designs, bold cut-outs, colors that pop, diasporic cultural references, and wide-ranging themed collections. More recently, you might have clocked the brand’s t-shirts and trucker caps with bootleg and Y2K-inspired logos and motifs. Ogunlesi’s designs have been worn by Solange, Kelela, Kim Kardashian, and Skepta, as well as Naomi Campell—who wore a Mowalowa white halterneck dress featuring a bullet hole that dripped scarlet during London Fashion Week in 2019. The outfit was interpreted as a direct comment on gun violence, but Mowalowa clarified it was from the collection “Coming for Blood,” inspired by the “horrific experience of falling in love,” as well as (more broadly) feeling like a constant target. “I make clothes to challenge people’s minds,” Ogunlesi wrote in an Instagram caption. “This dress is extremely emotional to me—it screams my lived experience as a Black person.”

Elsewhere, Ogunlesi has designed uniforms for Nigeria’s World Cup team on behalf of Nike, and dressed Barbie on her 60th

anniversary (prior to the Greta Gerwig film). More recently, Ogunlesi’s off-schedule show during Paris Fashion Week SS23, styled by fashion visionary Ib Kamara, took unexpected inspiration from those who steal, with looks referencing a vast array of criminals from white-collar bankers to “Yahoo Boys”—Lagos internet scammers. “Mowa’s vision is beyond beautiful,” Kamara tells us. “She has a way to connect with people through her storytelling, which is so rich and vibrant—in your face, but well thought through.” For AW23, the theme was “Dark Web,” a collection conjuring dystopian techno-capitalism with hacker references, makeup that subtly blended man and machine, and signature Mowalowa-style takes on logos ranging from the New York Yankees to MoMA.

Before she achieved global renown, Ogunlesi first caught the UK fashion industry’s attention during her 2017 graduation show at Central Saint Martins, themed “Psychedelic”—an homage to Lagos petrolheads and 1970s Nigerian psychedelic rock. Ogunlesi was picked up by Fashion East, the UK fashion incubator that helped launch the career of Dior’s Kim Jones, and, more recently, Ogunlesi’s friend and contemporary, Maxamillian Davies. While starting to show with Fashion East, Ogunlesi cut her teeth at brands like Yang Li, Wales Bonner, and Celine, and was hired by YEEZY in 2020 to work on the YEEZY Gap collection, although she exited soon after. By the time the pandemic hit, she had two acclaimed Fashion East shows under her belt, as well as an exhibition, Silent Madness at NOW Gallery, that zoomed in on her work and the inspirations behind it. The exhibition featured a fashion film Ogunlesi made in collaboration with director Jordan Hemmingway, alongside specially-commissioned sounds from Yves Tumor, Shygirl, and others.

“I REALIZED YOU CAN FIGURE OUT YOUR OWN PATH, RATHER THAN JUST DOING WHAT EVERYONE ELSE DOES.”

“LIFE IS CHAOS, SO I JUST LEAN IN.”

While Ogunlesi was already operating in non-traditional fashion contexts, the pandemic shook things up further, forcing her to rely less on wholesale accounts and pivot the brand to directto-consumer sales. The designer kept herself busy by recording and releasing music informed by cyber-core and trap, also under the name Mowalowa. The two years Ogunlesi paused from working at a breakneck speed led to a moment of recalibration. “Now I’m operating with what feels good for me,” she says. “I realized you can figure out your own path, rather than just doing what everyone else does.” People like Telfar Clemens have shown that, she adds, referencing the US designer’s approach that bridges art, music, and fashion, all while achieving commercial success.

“The way I started my brand was not done in the stereotypical way of starting something. It just kind of birthed itself,” Ogunlesi explains. “The fashion calendar is important for any brand that’s managed to stay independent, but I think a lot of brands [that don’t follow it] have succeeded as well.” Instead, operating at her own pace now informs the way she collaborates with her team, something she learned from her time at YEEZY. “It was an ongoing development situation there,” she says. “Back then I was doing a lot of stuff by email. I realized I could work a lot faster by text, just cutting information barriers, and making things more fluid.”

In Nigeria, Ogunlesi was raised by two fashion designer parents, while her grandmother ran a brand in the 1980s, as well. She credits her family for her creativity but not her career: “It didn’t really matter what my parents did; I feel like I would still do what I’m doing now,” the designer explains, adding that since her mother owns children’s clothing stores, their respective businesses feel worlds apart.

Ogunlesi was inspired by her mother’s ethos, though: “When she advertised in Nigeria, she made sure people knew this brand was by Nigerians. I think that sparked a change in the apparel industry in Lagos. After colonialism, there wasn’t much national spirit and a lot of things were internationally bought and sold,” she says, noting that as a child she’d beg her dad to buy her Timberland boots and Reebok G-Unit sneakers. Today, that effect of Nigerian pride is displayed by homegrown brands that ripple beyond the continent. Ogunlesi mentions skate line Motherlan—who recently collaborated with Stüssy—or the streetwear brands WAFFLESNCREAM and Meji Meji.

Despite the outlook her mother instilled, before moving to London for fashion school, Ogunlesi says she “thought of fashion as like a very white concept—even when I would draw stuff, it’d be with white people.” It was seeing Wales Bonner’s final Central Saint Martins collection, entitled “Afrique,” with an exclusively Black cast, that led to a recognition that she could also do things differently. “I’d never seen that before beyond Nigeria. Seeing that outside of my home was really special, and changed the way I saw fashion. It became more personal to me. It also built a sense of trusting what feels good.”

Ogunlesi visits Nigeria a few times a year, giving her the freedom and energy to think. “I don’t feel boxed in or forced into a way of thinking that isn’t me while I’m there,” she notes. “There are references to Nigeria in the work. You might not get them if you’re not Nigerian.” That’s OK, says the designer, because the scope is broader—her designs also intend to harness the power of modern-day globalized youth culture. “I’m thinking about me, I’m thinking about other Nigerians, but also the people in my studio and our collaborators from all over the world who recognize what we’re trying to do creatively, people on the same wavelength. If you want to enter my world, there’s no bouncer checking IDs and saying, ‘No, you can’t get in.’”

“IF YOU WANT TO ENTER MY WORLD, THERE’S NO BOUNCER CHECKING IDS AND SAYING, ‘NO, YOU CAN’T GET IN.’”

Collaborators can come from anywhere, like Chinese visual artist Woozie, who Ogunlesi connected with online to work on the brand’s visuals. “These global collaborations feel like home because I grew up with a very international window of information. We’re all from different places, but we all know the same shit from the arts—music, film, popular culture, Nicki Minaj verses.”

The designs produced with this spirit in mind feel high-energy, eclectic, and capture a sense of movement: jumping from place to place, showing up, and turning out. It’s clear that club culture was an early reference, with Mowalowa part of an East London community that congregated around the club night PDA, run by DJ and fashion multi-hyphenate Mischa Notcutt, musician MsCarrie Stacks, and filmmaker Akinola Davies. The party, which ran in the mid-to-late-2010s, usually in a Dalston basement, catered primarily for queer and gender nonconforming people of color. The lasting impact it had on Ogunlesi can be felt through Mowalola’s effectively genderless garments; Ogunlesi sees her designs as versatile and fluid. Studying print and working on prints that eluded gendered categories also informed this approach. “Right from the jump, my menswear

and womenswear were one, I’m not about a conversation like, ‘Womenswear is this, menswear is this.’ I feel like gender is a spiritual thing.”

Although Ogunlesi won’t say too much about what’s up next, she shares that the Mowalowa palette is shifting. “I’m trying to challenge myself to use more muted tones and less bright primary colors, in terms of my growth and where I’m at now. Colors have reflected how I felt in a moment, and that’s what I’m feeling I want to wear.” Beyond design, her personal focus is continuing to manage the “always on” nature of the business.

“I feel like I’ve just had to climb a crazy mountain. And now I’m about to take off from the top of it,” she says. “Every day feels exciting. But then I also just have to have extreme ease with everything—the industry, deadlines, whatever. Life is chaos, so I just lean in. I go with it. Because when I’ve been stressed, I miss things and I’m not present. For now, I just want to enjoy the moment.”

METALWOOD MANIA

WORDS BY JULIUS OPPENHEIMER

PHOTOGRAPHY BY EDDIE LEE

How the lifestyle brand is reimagining golf’s style, culture, and attitude in one fell swing.

On June 17, when a single engine aircraft passed over Los Angeles Country Club with a “Got Blades?” banner billowing behind it, most attendees of the 2023 US Open didn’t know what they were looking at. Even fewer could read the “Metalwood Studio © 2023” and “124 S La Brea Ave” underneath unless they were truly eagle-eyed. But for those who could identify the lifestyle brand and its irreverent antics (if not the small font), it was exactly the type of stunt that gravitated them towards Metalwood in the first place.

Refreshing in its rejection of outmoded country club conventions, the California-based company has united all varieties of modern golfers since it launched in 2020. Its fans range from Supreme-loving skaters, to artsy professionals and reformed punks, and it sells clothes with aesthetics that jump from streetwear to luxury-adjacent to utilitarian workwear—all in the blink of an eye. Similarly, the brand’s lookbooks barely feature golf or the green, instead favoring locales like spaghetti Western film sets, grassy knolls overlooking LA, and the streets of Paris. All you need to be a “Bladey,” as Metalwood’s followers call themselves, is the belief that Fred Couples is and always was a fashion icon, polyester polos are about as useful as a wooden driver, and the municipal Roosevelt Golf Course in LA is the Taj Mahal of the sport’s culture.

If this all sounds like a niche—and borderline pretentious—foundation for a nascent golf brand, that’s exactly the point.

Cole Young, Metalwood’s founder, doesn’t run his operation in a typical fashion. Its brick-and-mortar shop on La Brea, something of a community center for neo-golfers, was originally intended to be used as an office, but Young felt that its window display was “too nice” for it to not be a shop. Meanwhile, the brand’s Y2K-informed infomercial ads and dawn of the internet-style website are intentionally unpolished. Young has described his beloved 9-hole course Roosevelt, where the brand’s Jones x Metalwood State Carry Bags have become an immutable presence, as “an opportunity to unwind and not be an egomaniac on social media.” If there’s one thing that makes Metalwood stand out from the sport’s out-of-touch establishment, it’s an utter lack of ego—a rejection of brows both high and low.

Young doesn’t need to convince you that his brand’s camo hats, digital print carpenter pants, nylon shorts, and diamond quilted jackets will make you a better golfer, because they weren’t designed for golf in the first place. “Teetering between our core golf demographic and our menswear contemporary lifestyle demographic,” says Young, means a push and pull between fashion-minded garments and actual athletic gear, such as Metalwood’s cleat collaboration with FootJoy. It’s this dissonance that allows the brand to exist at once as a disruptor and a devotee, fervent in its enthusiasm for contemporary fashion and indulgent in its romanticism of golf’s bygone eras. In essence, that’s how Metalwood went from one Southern California kid’s obsession with used clubs, to one of the most influential firebrands in the sport’s current lifestyle epoch.

“THE WHOLE POINT OF DOING THIS HAS BEEN TO GET PEOPLE TO ENJOY THE SAME THING THAT I’VE ENJOYED MY WHOLE LIFE.”

HOW DID THE IDEA FOR METALWOOD COME ABOUT?

I think the impetus for it was me wanting to be a golf club engineer, like a designer. I had this really emotional attachment to these golf clubs of the early 2000s that were pivotal when I was growing up, learning how to play, and getting pretty good. I’ve always been a huge collector of things.

But back then, those clubs were not affordable. A brand-new r7 [TaylorMade driver from 2004] probably retailed for $850 USD. So when I got back into golf, rather than playing with clubs that gave me a technological benefit, I just bought ones that I never got to have as a kid. For example, that r7 only costs like $50 USD on eBay now.

It’s the hunt, you know? You go to a vintage athletic’s store or thrift shop like a Goodwill, and you’re like, “Oh fuck, I just found like the perfect Russell Athletic crewneck.” That’s the rush I get when I go to a second hand golf store and I find this thing that I’ve been pining over for years. That’s also the rush that made me feel like I could really sink my teeth into a counterculture.

SO HOW DID THAT TRANSLATE INTO APPAREL?

We were basically treating apparel like a curated “used” bin at the very beginning. We were selling vintage golf merch, a couple hats with our logo on it, and used golf clubs. The itch that I needed to scratch wasn’t just selling an old golf club, though—it was also educating people on why that club was sick.

That feeling started to evolve and take form in a clothing company because a lot of our graphics and inspiration are pulled from the golf clubs of the early aughts. We use a lot of that performance verbiage in our copy and it’s supposed to feel pre-internet, anti-technology. It’s all these selling points that fooled you into buying that thousand-dollar driver years ago that is now 50 bucks on eBay. And the way that I cope with [falling for those selling points] is making fun of my own consumption habits.

SO IS METALWOOD YOUR ANTIDOTE FOR CONSUMERISM, IN THAT SENSE?

It is and it isn’t. Obviously, it’s not the opposite of consumerism, ‘cause I would like for you to put food on my table. But I guess what I always wanted was to inspire people to look elsewhere for their golf needs. I felt like there wasn’t enough out-of-the-box thinking in the golf space until I discovered the golf brand Malbon. Malbon started the school of thought that you could wear something that’s not meant for golf and still have it be comfortable. And that’s where I started to do a lot of my outside shopping and kind of fit-mongering, putting together things that I thought were cool and nodded toward the golf aesthetic, but weren’t necessarily from golf apparel brands.

But to call it the antidote to consumerism? I don’t know. I think that there’s a lot of cool things that we could learn from design and just overall apparel and things from yesteryear, specifically in golf.

FAST-FORWARD TO TODAY. THE MARKET IS SATURATED WITH NEW GOLF APPAREL BRANDS, AND THERE SEEMS TO BE A LOT OF CONSUMER FATIGUE. DO YOU RESONATE WITH THAT?

I think people are definitely tired. I’ll give you a scenario: I’ll go on the Metalwood Instagram or my personal account, look at the notifications, and see I’ve been followed by “blank golf,” an Instagram with the same fucking picture of Michael Jordan cleaning his golf clubs, the same fucking picture of Jack Nicholson hitting balls from the mat, the same fucking picture of Kanye West in a golf cart with a cell phone. And the bio says: “For golfers, by golfers. New clothing brand dropping soon.”

I think [golf personality and entrepreneur] Roger Steele made a great point recently that was like, “We see you trespassers, the people that are in it for the wrong reasons.” It’s very obvious. I think that the fatigue is there, but it also puts such an emphasis on authenticity. It’s upsetting, but it was bound to happen. It’s happened in surf culture. It’s happened in skate culture.

That doesn’t mean that I’m bummed about the growth of the game, though. The whole point of doing this has been to get people to enjoy the same thing that I’ve enjoyed my whole life. I still get the chance to play with some friends who are trying out golf for the first time in their lives, and it’s so exciting to see that spark when they hit that one good shot. That discovery moment is so cool for me to witness.

“IF WE

CAN GET YOUR ATTENTION AND THEN YOU BUY SOMETHING AND YOU LATER REALIZE, ‘OH, THIS IS

A GOLF BRAND. AM I INTERESTED

IN GOLF ?’

THAT’S THE COOLEST FEELING FOR ME.”

HOW DOES METALWOOD STRIVE FOR AUTHENTICITY?

We’ve taken wholesale so seriously in the last two seasons, and we’re gonna continue to do that until it grows to the point where I want it to be. But we’re not selling to any golf specialty stores. Our account list is HBX, Dover Street Market, SSENSE, MR PORTER, LN-CC, all these top-tier accounts, but no golf retailers. What I’m getting at is that we’re teetering between our core golf demographic and our menswear contemporary lifestyle demographic. The number of fashion enthusiasts is about to outnumber the golf enthusiasts, and so we’re becoming a lifestyle brand, right? Not that I thought we were ever a golf brand, but we had very heavy golf DNA from the start, and we still do. Moving forward, the exciting part is taking all of our new audiences and reminding them that we’re a golf brand. I think we’re getting to the point now where we do that through collaborations.

LIKE FOOTJOY?

Yeah, like FootJoy. I don’t think you could possibly work with a more capital-G “Golf Brand” than FootJoy. If you can name one, go for it. FootJoy is the perfect partner. They’re ideal because they allow us to put our spin on things, but at the end of the day, there are cleats on the bottom of the shoe, meaning they’re meant for golfing. And as far as excitement goes behind the product, that’s the most energetic thing that we’ve ever done.

But there’s something to be said about someone discovering Metalwood from, say, the lifestyle images on HBX. None of them are shot on a golf course, there are no golf clubs in a studio, none of that stuff. So if we can get your attention and then you buy something and you later realize, “Oh, this is a golf brand. Am I interested in golf?” That’s the coolest feeling for me, and I think that that’s how we stay authentic.

THE METALWOOD CAMO HAT HAS BEEN ONE OF YOUR BIGGEST HITS AND HAS REACHED FAR BEYOND THE GOLF COURSE. IS IT AFFIRMING TO SEE YOUR PRODUCT IN CONTEXTS THAT IT WASN’T ORIGINALLY MADE FOR?

Yeah. It’s technically not a golf product at all. There’s no moisture wicking ability, it’s not a performance hat. You’re flying a certain flag, though. I had a friend in Chicago who was walking down the main street in West Loop and someone was walking the other way wearing a Metalwood hat. And my friend whipped out his phone and was like, “Oh shit, you know Cole? You’re wearing a Metalwood hat.” And he’s like, “No, who the fuck is Cole?” That’s almost better than them knowing anything about the brand. Just to have someone so organically find the hat in other ways and then buy it.

IS THE WAY YOU PROMOTE YOUR PRODUCTS WITH THESE IRREVERENT INFOMERCIALS OR AIRPLANE BANNER ADS AT THE US OPEN COMMENTARY, OR ARE YOU JUST HAVING FUN?

Just having fun. It’s not so deep. I guess the only comment to make is I’m speaking to every other golf brand that’s trying to make a wave or disrupt. I’m thinking, “Just use your fucking head, dude. Stop paying for ads. Stop doing call-to-action Instagram posts.” Golf advertising is so out of touch, and I guess our biggest middle finger to golf is quite literally lighting money on fire by flying a plane that says “Got Blades?” above the US Open.

It’s a funny story: I was designing the banner and it’s 625 feet by 80 feet, which is huge. But it’s still hard to see anything when the plane is at cruising altitude. So I wanted to

make sure that “Got Blades?” was visible, but I designed it with a really tiny address, phone number, and Instagram handle. And the guy that runs the company was like, “No one’s gonna be able to see this.” But to me, that’s not the point. People aren’t going directly to that URL, they’re not gonna see the website on the plane and be like, “I gotta check that website out, man.” The point was to get a laugh out of everybody, which I think we did. It’s a conversation-starter, so maybe that is the commentary.

AS GOLF CONTINUES TO BREAK INTO THE MAINSTREAM, ARE YOU HAPPY WITH METALWOOD KEEPING ITS UNDERDOG STATUS, OR CAN YOU SEE IT BLOWING UP?

I’m obviously fine with it blowing up. I don’t think we’ll be taking any supplementary steps to make sure that it blows up. I think we’re just so down to keep doing what we’re doing. It’s my most fun art project and I never wanna do anything that I don’t wanna do. If people continue to find it and it builds steam and there are millions of dollars coming into the bank account, I don’t really think that changes a whole lot in terms of our objectives or artistry.

OPTIMISTIC ENTROPY

THE QUIXOTIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN HUMANITY AND NATURE IS CENTRAL TO THE PRACTICE OF IRISH EXPERIMENTAL FILMMAKERS KEVIN AND PÁRAIC MCGLOUGHLIN. THE TWINS DISCUSS THEIR FRANTIC FLIP-BOOK STYLE VISUALS AND HOW TO USE ART AS A BAROMETER FOR SOCIAL PROGRESS.

WORDS BY SHAWN GHASSEMITARI PHOTOGRAPHY BY PETER MARTIN

William James, considered by many historians as the “father of American psychology,” once mused that as a civilization “we are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep.” James passed away in 1910, and while the world has undoubtedly become more technologically entwined in the century since, his advice still rings true in a time when the threat of global devastation is more urgent than ever.

Kevin and Páraic McGloughlin are artists and filmmakers, not psychologists, but there’s a parallel between their practice and James’ philosophic lessons on society. Apart from being twins, the two share an equal interest in using art to bypass any ideological, political, or religious differences that come up when discussing climate and geopolitical crises, instead opting for imagery that resonates universally. In their words, the work is “a visual aid that represents reality.”

Born and based in Sligo, Ireland, the McGloughlin Brothers’ unorthodox approach to filmmaking involves flipbook-style animations and sundry VFX stylizations overlaid with contemplative electronic melodies, where freeways endlessly spiral in a matrix of cars and concrete, GIFs fluidly connect the eyes of each creature from the animal kingdom, or a montage of postcards show various vantage points in New York City. In each, there is a meditation on what the brothers call an “expression of emotion and the experience of perception”—an attempt to “interpret what it means to be alive.”

“WE AIM TO CAPTURE THE EXPRESSION OF EMOTION AND THE EXPERIENCE OF PERCEPTION, TO QUESTION AND TRY TO INTERPRET WHAT IT IS TO BE ALIVE.”

Owing to their singular vision, the McGloughlin brothers have been tapped by some of the biggest stars and institutions across the world, including making animations for A$AP Rocky’s “D.M.B.” music video, a recent film study of Kengo Kuma’s V&A building for the Museum of Modern Art in Tokyo, and their status as mainstays in Vimeo’s Staff Pick selections. While there is no dialogue in many of their videos, the brothers explore a number of pressing themes— from the benefits and pitfalls of globalization

and the merits of architectural innovation, to the adverse effects that resource mining is having on our environment. Think of the visual montages from the seminal 1982 experimental documentary Koyaanisqatsi mixed with the subject matter of an Adam Curtis film or Bernie Krause’s The Great Animal Orchestra. The brothers hook viewers with psychedelic visuals before slipping in activist messaging in a way that feels like positive propaganda without being didactic.

“EVERYTHING IS HANGING TOGETHER BY STRINGS

UNTIL THE VERY END OF A PROJECT.

WE’RE BIG MESSERS, TRUTH BE TOLD.”

During the height of the pandemic in 2020, Kevin and Páraic worked together on a film that aimed to unite people during an isolative time. Scored by British electronic producer Max Cooper, the project asked anyone—from world leaders to schoolchildren—to visualize what they thought needed to change in the world, then talk about it in a one-minute video response accompanied by the hashtag #Imaginefor1minute. The McGloughlins then created a montage of crowdsourced videos interspersed with idiosyncratic animations, which featured submissions from climate activist Greta Thunberg, retired French footballer Mathieu Flamini, Pope Francis, and thousands of others who voiced their concern in hope for a better future.

The brothers most recently unveiled a massive digital installation at Outernet London, a compilation of VFX-addled footage reflecting the struggles ushered in by social media, namely the instant stimulation that can be absorbed at any minute of the day. Think clips of people running, side-by-side with aerial shots of a woman going down an escalator, overlapped with depictions of severed hands and eyes that

float in space. Each frame blends into the next, much like our TikTok and Instagram feeds. Similar to the rest of the McGloughlin oeuvre, the work is stunning, slightly eerie, and meant to realign our perspective on how we navigate our daily relationship with technology.

Visually gratifying without brushing off the somber realities of their subject matter, the McGloughlins’ practice is ultimately optimistic and altruistic. Their art is effective in that it intends to shake people awake without guilt-tripping or finger-pointing about the issues humanity is collectively experiencing. We spoke with the twin brothers to dig deeper into their artistic intentions, and learn with how their work investigates the quixotic dynamic between society and the natural world.

WAS ARTISTIC COLLABORATION ALWAYS A CONSTANT, EVEN IN YOUR FORMATIVE YEARS?

McGloughlin Brothers: We’ve always dipped in and out of collaboration with each other, and have had a friendly competition in whatever we pursued throughout our whole lives. But for the most part, we generally focused on our individual projects. Our collaboration on film work has been a natural progression that we just slipped into, as we share such a similar vision and our process is so aligned. Being twins, best mates, and really understanding each other makes working as a duo the obvious thing to do. We feel very blessed in our setup.

WHO OR WHAT PROVIDES YOUR BIGGEST ARTISTIC INFLUENCES?

Páraic: Painting, music, and film have all had a huge influence on my work. When I see anyone express themselves without compromise, in any artistic medium, I’m inspired. That being said, my biggest inspiration comes from life experience. Having an experience and then being able to channel it into a piece of work is something I don’t know how I could live without. Simply expressing myself in ways I couldn’t otherwise—sharing my vision and hoping the viewers can relate somehow—is a huge drive for me to create.

Kevin: I try to allow influence and bring in inspiration from everywhere I can. I find great inspiration in the mechanics of life, the way things take shape in organic ways, and how transient it all is. Everything is so fleeting and chaotic, yet somehow ordered. A huge initiative for me to get up and work is to share a sentiment and connect with people. In many ways, my work is a tool for communication. I’m also inspired by the idea of sharing a hopeful message— to create worlds that can provoke the imagination of others and to offer an alternative perspective.

I really just love making things, too. Growing up skating and doing street art had quite an impact on my mind early on. It was a way to see cities and architecture in a new light, and turn surroundings into playgrounds. It set me up to think outside the box and imagine more from an environment. Overall, the main influence on my work is the yearning to express something that I simply can’t do in any other way.

“WE ARE ALL CONNECTED.

IT’S REALLY THAT SIMPLE.”

YOUR APPROACH TO FILMMAKING IS ANYTHING BUT TRADITIONAL, ALMOST TAKING ON THE FORM OF ABSTRACT PAINTING IN MOVING IMAGES. HOW WOULD YOU DEFINE YOUR PRACTICE?

MGB: Our background in painting and physical movement probably had a role to play in that. There’s some kind of spontaneity that we hope for in every project, which I think has close ties to the process of painting. We like to have a certain set of rules, structure, and an idea in place, but we also like the feeling of a project being able to dictate where it ends up, to some degree. Trial and error—or simply finding something along the way—is nearly always where anything interesting happens.

In our work, we aim to capture the expression of emotion and the experience of perception, to question and try to interpret what it is to be alive. We’re very interested in the connections we all have with one another and the relationships we have with our environments. The similarities people share has been something of a constant in our practice.

IS THERE A PARTICULAR FORTÉ EACH OF YOU BRING WHEN PRODUCING A WORK? WALK US THROUGH YOUR PROCESS FROM EARLIEST THOUGHT TO FINAL EXECUTION.

MGB: When working together, we both approach all aspects of a project equally, though it depends on each situation. We’ll always decide on a concept together and allow as much freedom to explore it as possible while maintaining the initial idea. We like to start with small experiments and gradually allow them to dictate what happens next, where at some point the work seems to be driving itself.

Everything is hanging together by strings until the very end of a project in a lot of cases. We’re big messers, truth be told. There are other projects that are much more clear-cut and structured, where we limit ourselves to a certain concept or idea from the start. We enjoy working in both ways. Mixing methods can allow for some fresh air and keep the workflow interesting and fun.

SOME OF YOUR VISUALS ARE SO ATMOSPHERIC OR BIOLOGICAL IN NATURE. HOW DO YOU CREATE OR SOURCE THESE GRAPHICS?

MGB: We try to capture the majority of the images we use ourselves or have them shot bespoke. We’ve been very lucky to work with great DPs, fluid artists, and documentarians who have provided us with amazing imagery over the years. However, there are many projects where we will utilize and manipulate public domain galleries and satellite imagery. There’s an abundance of source material out there for any given project, which can be extremely helpful. Crowd sourcing material is a great option too, but a little hit or miss.

BY DAVID WISE

THE COMPLEX RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN HUMANS AND NATURE IS A CONSTANT STUDY WITHIN YOUR WORK, SUCH AS IN THE FILMS SWARM AND #IMAGINEFOR1MINUTE. WHY IS THIS DYNAMIC IMPORTANT TO YOUR PRACTICE?

Kevin: I guess it’s all one and the same, and we try to portray it as such. The goal in much of the work is to show our connection with each other and our surroundings—to create a visual aid that re -presents reality. We are all connected. It’s really that simple. Páraic: Development and destruction seem to be so closely linked in human progress. The human ability to create sophisticated environments and tech is something to be marveled at, but there is a price to pay for these advancements. Human interaction and behavior is such a wide-sweeping space to work from, too. Trying to look at these things from a different visual perspective creates a lot of avenues to explore and experiment. With these projects, we aimed to inject a message of interconnectivity and convey the fragility of everything.

DOWNLOADING... DESTROY LONELY IS STILL

THE UP-AND-COMING RAPPER REFLECTS ON HIS BANNER YEAR, INCLUDING FASHION COLLABORATIONS WITH MATTHEW WILLIAMS, TOURING WITH PLAYBOI CARTI, AND HIS NEW 26-TRACK ALBUM.

STYLIST: DESTROY LONELY, WHITNEY WHITAKER, STYLING ASSISTANT: THIBAUT GOOSSENS, GROOMER/MUA: SHALEIRA SMITH

Nothing fazes Destroy Lonely. “I always imagined myself doing things larger than what a normal life would be,” the 22-year-old artist says with an easy, unpracticed nonchalance that belies his age. Lonely, as his fans call him, is certainly having a year that’s “larger than normal life.” When he sat down with us, he was preparing for his second tour of the year, following the release of a 26-song project, modeling gigs with Givenchy and Marc Jacobs, and a collaboration with 1017 ALYX 9SM.

Lonely first picked up a microphone in middle school, and later garnered a loyal following with viral tracks like “Bane” and “No Stylist.” He’s signed to fellow iconoclast Playboi Carti’s Opium record label, and is building out a mysterious world of his own that rivals his mentor’s, thanks to his recent LP If Looks Could Kill—a pinboard of sonic styles and reference points. “I download everything everywhere,” he says of the project’s wide-ranging influences, running the gamut from horror films and video games, to alternative rock. Lonely’s even got an alter ego, the sinister, masked “Look Killa,” who starred in a short horror film of the same name. “It’s part of me,” he says when asked about the character and his creative process. “I just keep pushing the boundaries of what people know music to be. I don’t see limits in music.”

Before embarking on the Antagonist Tour this fall with Carti and the rest of his Opium label mates, Destroy Lonely weighed in on how his unreleased music is akin to private diary entries, style manifestation, and his personal methods for staying grounded as his profile continues to skyrocket.

“I DON’T HAVE A STYLIST. I DON’T BELIEVE IN STYLISTS. I DRESS MYSELF 25/8.”

LET’S TALK ABOUT YOUR ALBUM IF LOOKS COULD KILL WHAT MAKES THIS ALBUM SPECIAL?

I was staying in New York for the whole month and a half that I was working on it. I had all my producers in the studio with me, as well as my girlfriend and best friends. It was really fun. I was watching a bunch of horror movies. I was putting my whole life on my sleeve for the moment, just making music from the heart.

HOW DOES THIS ALBUM REPRESENT WHO YOU ARE AS AN ARTIST?

The album represents a transitional period in my life where I was seeing, hearing, and being inspired by a bunch of different experiences. That’s what I wanted to present to the world—a download of experiences and inspirations that I hold true to myself.

MASKS ARE A MAJOR THEME IN THE ALBUM’S VISUALS. WHERE DID THEY COME FROM AND HOW DO THEY CONNECT TO YOUR UNIVERSE?

That’s the “Look Killa” mask, and I’m the Look Killa. It’s part of me. The mask is coming with me for the rest of this journey, and will be something I wear on tour. I want to expand [the motif] to a larger universe, whether through short films or full-length movies.

HOW IS THIS CHARACTER A DIFFERENT PRESENTATION OF YOURSELF?

The Look Killa is a version of me that doesn’t hear the world’s opinions and thoughts. He just wants to put out music. Sometimes, I let things get in my ear and it throws me off a little bit. But the Look Killa gives no fucks.

IF LOOKS COULD KILL IS 26 TRACKS LONG, BUT YOU HAVE HUNDREDS OF UNRELEASED SONGS. WHAT DO YOU INTEND TO DO WITH ALL THE EXTRA MATERIAL?

My friends and I make so much music. We have so many different feelings and vibes. I hope I’m able to release it all to the world one day. Every song I ever made is a diary entry. Some of them are sent to the world and some of them I keep to myself.

I’ve had like three, four, five different tracklists for every project I’ve ever made. I thought out If Looks Could Kill for the past two years of my life. Same with No Stylist. I was ready to let people hear those songs because I elevated them to a point where it made sense to release them. I have certain steps I want to take, and after those are complete I’m like, “This is it. I’m ready to show this.”

YOU RECENTLY DROPPED “TURN YOUR PHONE OFF” WITH PINKPANTHRESS. HOW IS COLLABORATING WITH ANOTHER ARTIST DIFFERENT FROM WORKING SOLO, AND WHAT WAS THAT PROCESS LIKE?

I think she wanted me on it for a while, and I had always wanted to make a song with her. I was in New York, she pulled up and played the song, and I put a verse on it. It was a quick but really good and insightful session. It’s always fun to work with different artists who make different music from me, seeing their creative processes, and learning about where they find their sound.

WHAT ARE SOME OTHER MUSIC INFLUENCES THAT HAVE MADE THEIR WAY INTO YOUR MATERIAL?

Right now, I like a bunch of alternative rock sounds. I got a bunch of unreleased songs with different types of electronic instrumentals and rhythmic-type beats. I try to make all types of music when I’m in the studio. I don’t just make rap songs.

1ST LOOK:

NET HOODIE: JIL SANDER

PANTS: RICK OWENS

LEATHER BOOTS: RICK OWENS

JEWELRY: HIS OWN

2ND LOOK:

TRENCH COAT: GIVENCHY

TANK TOP: GIVENCHY

SHORTS & PANTS: GIVENCHY

LEATHER BOOTS: RICK OWENS

JEWELRY: HIS OWN

3RD LOOK:

FUR JACKET: G mbH

TANK TOP: RICK OWENS

LEATHER SNAKE PANTS: BALENCIAGA

FUR BOOTS: RICK OWENS

JEWELRY: HIS OWN

“I’M A WORLD. KEN CARSON IS A WORLD. PLAYBOI CARTI’S A WORLD. HOMIXIDE GANG IS THEIR OWN WORLD. OPIUM IS THE UNIVERSE FOR ALL THAT.”

WHERE DO YOU FIND INSPIRATION OUTSIDE MUSIC?

I play a bunch of video games. That’s not to say that I like video game noises in my music, but worlds that are created in video games are extremely crazy to me. They’re always 100% creative. Worlds that are created in movies, movie soundtracks, or the vibes that movies curate inspire me, as well. Same goes for different architecture and technology in the world. I just keep my eyes open.

DO YOU WANT YOUR MUSIC TO BE RELATABLE, EVEN AFTER YOU’VE REACHED THIS LEVEL OF SUCCESS?

When I’m in the booth and I’m making a song, I want it to be relatable. I still have personal challenges, financial challenges, and goals I’m trying to reach. People who are in the same place will be able to accept it. I don’t actively try to be relatable to people who aren’t going through the same things as me, though, because that wouldn’t be who I am.

HOW DID YOU GET INTERESTED IN FASHION?

Since I was a kid, I always loved clothes. When I didn’t have money, I was wearing black skinny jeans and denim jackets from H&M. I’d play video games like Grand Theft Auto and dress how I wanted to look through my character in the game. I’d also study clothes and I spent time learning about a whole bunch of different brands, creative directors, and designers. I got visions of how I want to look and I’m now able to completely live in those visions. The way I dress right now is how I wanted to dress my whole life.

HOW OFTEN DO YOU STYLE YOURSELF?

I don’t have a stylist. I don’t believe in stylists. I dress myself 25/8. When I’m doing photoshoots, I’m wearing my own clothes, picking out my own clothes, doing everything myself.

WHAT’S YOUR MINDSET WHEN YOU PUT TOGETHER A FIT?

What would be the most Bobby [Destroy Lonely’s given first name] shit to wear? Fuck Destroy Lonely. I think about what resonates with me as a person and then I put it on.

HOW DID YOUR COLLABORATION WITH MATTHEW WILLIAMS AND 1017 ALYX 9SM COME ABOUT? WHAT’S YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH MATTHEW LIKE?

I can’t even recall the first time I spoke to Matthew. Now, we talk every couple of weeks or so. I appreciate that relationship because it’s helping me dive deeper into the fashion world. Every time I link up with him, I learn something. I remember I used to watch 1017 ALYX 9SM fashion shows while sleeping on my homie’s couch in LA. I would buy all the 1017 ALYX 9SM. I loved that brand. I still do to this day.

WILL YOU BE EXPANDING YOUR REACH IN FASHION?

I got my own brand that I want to dive into. I feel like that’s something to continue as my career goes on. I’m going to have a whole world beyond music.

YOU’VE ACCOMPLISHED A LOT THIS YEAR. HOW DO YOU STAY GROUNDED AS YOUR PROFILE CONTINUES TO RISE? My streaming numbers have risen. My shows have gotten crazier. Other than that, it’s all the same to me. I don’t feel like I have a higher profile or like I’m anybody different than where I was last year or the year before. I try to stay true to who I am, and always remember that I’m doing this to feed the people I feed and help the people I need to help, not to be famous or just have fun.

ONE OF YOUR LYRICS IS “AND I’D THROW ALL THIS SHIT AWAY IF I CAN’T GIVE IT TO NONE OF MY HOMIES.” WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS MEAN TO YOU?

My friends are some of the most important people in my life. I’m inspired by them. They keep me on the right path. They always show me new stuff. I’ve got friends who don’t make music. I’ve got friends who are smarter than me, richer than me. I learn from everybody the same way that I learn from the world.

IN THE PAST, YOU’VE CALLED KEN CARSON YOUR TWIN. CAN YOU TELL US MORE ABOUT THAT RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC?

Ken is one of my best friends. He’s with me damn near every day. Right now, we’re both going through some of the same things and we come from the same places. A lot of people aren’t able to take their friends with them on this journey. A lot of people start acting weird. We were friends before this shit, and I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be friends after.

WHAT’S BEEN THE BIGGEST CHANGE IN YOUR LIFE SINCE YOUR CAREER BLEW UP?

I’ve wanted to [be a musician] since I was a kid, so it’s not really anything that’s extremely new or shocking to me, but I am trying to get used to having fans hold me up so highly. Everything that I was doing before has gotten larger.

YOU HAVE TOUR DATES WITH PLAYBOI CARTI AND THE REST OF THE OPIUM LABEL THROUGHOUT THE FALL. HOW DO YOU UNWIND WHILE TOURING?

Tour is probably when I’m most active and most ready to go. I just love being on the road and visiting different places and seeing all my fans going crazy. It’s another learning experience.

WHAT DO YOU THINK MAKES BEING PART OF THE OPIUM WORLD SO SPECIAL FOR FANS AND FOR YOU PERSONALLY?

I’m a world. Ken is a world. Carti’s a world. Homixide Gang is their own world. Opium is the universe for all that. For me personally, Opium is a family. For my fans, this is another thing for them to be a part of.

RESO LU TION Chapter 4

RESO LU TION

SARTORIAL

Four contemporary artists highlight how they use clothing as an artistic medium to push the boundaries of illustration, product design, and 3D art.

WORDS BY SHAWN GHASSEMITARI

IMAGE COURTESY OF FEATURED ARTISTS

Sculpture and fashion have a symbiotic relationship. A monolithic statue and a simple concert tee are both modes of expression used to represent the time, place, and ideals of a particular person or community. Unlike a painting, which features an illusionary, static depiction of reality, sculpture and fashion exist much in the same way humans do—as objects that can be felt with the hands and body—continually adapting in tandem with the vantage point of the viewer.

Louise Bourgeois, the great French-American artist known for her monstrous spider sculptures, is said to have been a hoarder of clothing. Historians note that she would hold on to all her garments, whether a black cocktail dress or a pale blouse, as mementos that would often turn into creative fodder for her artistic assemblages. Comparatively, the late Japanese fashion designer Issey Miyake created shape-shifting sartorial forms that existed like public works of art, only brought to life once draped over the architecture of the human body.

Sculptures and clothing outlive their owners to become spectral guises of the dead, or memorials of a bygone era. Think of the aristocratic fashion of 16th century France, where men wore doublets and collar ruffs, while women were clad in elaborate, conical floor-length gowns. Although this attire may seem humorous when viewed through the lens of the 21st century, the clothing and iconography of our own present will likely fall victim to the same fate—displayed as anachronistic vestiges in a museum. But the time capsule-like qualities of fashion lend themselves as ripe source material for other forms of art-making.

Just like paint, stone, brass, or marble, clothing’s role as a medium in studio art continues to fascinate creatives of varying backgrounds who seek to manifest their ideas through tangible objects. We caught up with four artists who shared how they utilize fashion as a tool within their respective practices.

GANGBOX

G NGB X

AGE 29, TORONTO/LONDON

Moya Garrison-Msingwana, known by his alias GANGBOX, is a Canadian-Tanzanian artist who creates fashion-forward illustrations that conflate the nostalgia of early Japanese animations with sartorial subcultures—from gorpcore and streetwear, to billowing samurai kimonos and Euro tracksuits.

He recently embarked on a series of paintings entitled LAUNDRY, which features canvases shaped like a human body painted to appear as if the subject’s wearing an exorbitant number of clothing styles and garments. He calls these figures “PILES.” Hidden within each layer of paint are a number of GarrisonMsingwana’s reference points in his world-building practice—from Yankees fitted caps and bucket hats, to oversized utility pants and textile patterns inspired by his father’s East African heritage.

Garrison-Msingwana is quick to note that he doesn’t see himself as a fashion designer in any sense, as his practice is more of an “anatomy manipulation exercise,” where he uses clothing as an “illusion to distort the human body.” While the desire to create physical sculptures is still an afterthought for the artist, the process of using “clothing as architecture for the human body” is something he intends to utilize in his work “until the end.”

MA C TUDI CO C

AGE 27, HAMBURG

Magnetic veins, oversized gowns made of metalized PET film, spiky crystal tattoos that appear in-and-out of faces—these features are staples in the animations of German 3D artist, Marc Tudisco.

Tudisco’s favorite part of the art-making process has always been the details. His attention to the minute is immediately conspicuous in his elaborate renderings of futuristic cyborgs, which are both eerie and comical in equal measures. The duality enables him to create a universe of characters that envision a future civilization, perhaps a dystopian one, where man, human, and aliens have fused.

While he clearly references real-life textiles, fashion styles, and facial expressions, Tudisco’s digital prototypes do not embody Earth-bound mortals—far from it. Instead, his oracular characters explore the abstracted qualities of human emotion. “Everything I do is always based on my mood,” he says. Regardless if he’s working on a new exhibition or a commission for a brand like Nike or Google, fashion is still the starting place for his world-building multimedia practice.

PHILPPANZIIII P IL ANZ

AGE 28, BROOKLYN

A hat isn’t just a hat for multidisciplinary artist Phil Panza. It can be anything—a side table, planter, or even a chair. The same design principle can apply to virtually any image or commonplace object that interests the Brooklyn-based artist. Panza’s unorthodox approach to art-making stems from his childhood. His infatuation with fashion came from his mother, while his craftsmanship skills grew as he helped his aunt and uncle build houses in the summer. And he credits Pharrell Williams as a role model who helped him embrace the idea that creatives don’t have to fit under one label.

Panza studied fashion in college and worked in the field for a brief period, but always felt like an outsider. He eventually gravitated towards sculpture because it allowed him “to be free” in the

same way that skateboarding did. “A sculpture can be jewelry, garments, shoes, totems, bags, furniture…in my eyes, it has no real meaning other than what you create,” he says.

Panza specializes in supersizing everyday objects and images—a baseball cap, Mickey Mouse’s torso, a shaggy Kangol bucket hat—into functional sculptures and furniture. In addition to his line of jewelry and rugs, Panza’s plush chairs that resemble New York Yankees and Kansas City Royals hats have become standouts in his practice, and have also blown up on social media. Regardless, he notes “each piece is unique,” and “being unique means you won’t always fit everywhere, but you will always fit somewhere.”

IIIIIIICOB ROCHESTENII AC B ROCH STER

AGE 28, LOS ANGELES

There’s an air of mystery surrounding the human figures in artist and music producer Jacob Rochester’s paintings. Like GANGBOX, the facial features of the subjects in each work are deliberately shrouded, but the characters are enlivened via cultural touch points significant to Rochester. He adorns his subjects with references to ‘90s basketball jerseys, Sabian cymbals, Eames chairs, Persian rugs, and more.

The Connecticut-born, Los Angeles-based artist says this aesthetic was influenced by similarly “enigmatic personas”—such as MF DOOM, Maison Margiela, Wil Fry, and Issey Miyake. Between learning drapery in his youth and finding inspiration in David Hockney’s self-portraits, Rochester seeks to “dive deeper with multiple angles and cropped compositions to highlight an individual, more than a single portrait ever could.”

Rochester says he allows his work to “speak for itself, without anything else being attached. I’m able to tell a story of whoever the subject is under the layers without showing their actual identity.”

STEP— BY—STEP : IMAGE MAKING WITH AI

AND ART BY JON RAFMAN

As I wrote in my essay that appears earlier in this magazine, AI’s ability to merge seemingly disparate aesthetics allows for the creation of unique hybrids and previously inconceivable visual styles and narratives when it comes to image-making.

The default aesthetic of AI image generation often mirrors the stylized, illustrative imagery common on platforms like Artstation or the generic look of stock photography. I find this style unappealing and must constantly challenge the AI’s inclination to produce images in this manner.

Like a detective, you must look for clues while inputting prompts to an AI algorithm through constant trial and error. You tweak, refine, and experiment during this process until the AI-generated work crystallizes into something interesting or meaningful.

Using the latest version of the MidJourney algorithm (version 5.2), I’ll demonstrate how crafting detailed prompts can yield more intriguing outputs. To clearly show the process of prompt engineering, meaning the person instructing the technology what to create, I’ll direct the AI to replicate the aesthetic of a Jeff Wall photograph, instead of crafting a composite style as I typically would in my work. Leveraging AI to mimic an existing style raises complex authorship issues, which are beyond the scope of this article.

For what it’s worth, Jeff Wall is a pioneering artist who’s craft can’t be simply replicated through AI. But, for the purpose of this piece, I selected his signature aesthetic to explore AI’s strengths and limitations in emulating unique photographic styles.

WORDS

THE ARTIST BRINGS US THROUGH THE CREATION OF AN AI-GENERATED IMAGE FROM START TO FINISH.

1.

Let’s start with a simple prompt, the first boring one that comes into my mind. How about “Man on a beach.” As you see, the AI produces a kitschy realistic illustration which tends to be the default look.

2.

Let’s adjust the prompt to read “35mm photograph of a man on a beach.”

The generated image you see resembles a fairly uninteresting typical stock photograph.

3.

Now let’s add “35mm photograph in the style of Jeff Wall of a man on a beach.”

4.

We see the photo moving away from a stock aesthetic. But I’m still far from satisfied with the output. Let’s add the year: “35mm photograph in the style of Jeff Wall of a man on a beach, 1991.”

5.

Still too generic. Let’s add the location and time of day: “35mm photograph in the style of Jeff Wall of a man on Daytona Beach, 1991, late afternoon.”

6.

Better! Now I’ll put the model of the camera that the photo was taken with, “35mm photograph in the style of Jeff Wall of a man on Daytona Beach, 1991, late afternoon, shot with a Linhof Master Technika camera.”

The image is starting to have that unique uncanny quality of a Jeff Wall tableau. The scene appears staged, yet at the same time, it is crafted to mimic the banality of daily life. This makes the photo simultaneously seem candid and artificial, while also blurring the line between reality and fabrication. The distinction between reality and artifice becomes even more muddled with the emergence of photorealistic AI. That’s a discussion for another occasion, though.

Let’s focus on developing these two images (HIGHLIGHTED BELOW)

7.

In the example above (middle), I zoomed out and modified the input to generate additional characters. It reads: “35mm photograph in the style of Jeff Wall of a man on crowded Daytona Beach, spring break 1991, late afternoon, shot with a Linhof Master Technika camera.” I also introduced a new parameter called “chaos” to prompt the AI model to produce an even broader range of results.

Nice. But let’s regenerate, and this time zoom out more. And again…

*8.

Let’s pause here. This tableau offers a narrative depth while preserving the mundane, everydayness of a Jeff Wall composition.

As AI evolves, the output from identical prompts can differ dramatically with each new version of the algorithm. One needs to continually adjust to the algorithms through trial and error and tweaking prompts. Furthermore, continual feature additions equip promptists with fresh tools to alter the outcome. The sheer expanse of possibilities can be overwhelming.

9.

Here’s how the image looks using the same prompt, but with version 4 of the algorithm. Image using version 3 of the algorithm. Image using version 2 of the algorithm. Image using version 1 of the algorithm.

Were I aiming for a more painterly, freely expressive, and textured style, I might consider experimenting with earlier algorithms.

(LEFT TO RIGHT)

Now Playing

A guide to independent radio stations that are spicing up sound around the world, from London and Los Angeles, to Tokyo and Tbilisi.

Independent radio is keeping frequencies fresh. From London to Los Angeles, Tokyo to Tblisi, broadcasters and networks far removed from the AM/FM dial are offering idiosyncratic music selections and nuanced cultural commentary to anyone with a wireless router. These stations—which mostly live on the Internet but often have a physical space with DJ booths like their more traditional counterparts—are led by self-reliant broadcasters, whose DIY spirit makes for a raw, authentic experience: free content for free thinkers.

The barriers to entry have never been lower for upstart stations, aided by the rise of streaming services like SoundCloud and MixCloud. The formula for success often comes from word-ofmouth marketing, a commitment to playing underground and local sounds to a global audience, and giving DJs, musicians, and talk show hosts a platform to debut their tunes or share their

taste. Another key aspect to their promotion, perhaps borrowed from the world of streetwear, is independent radio's willingness to throw city-specific parties and release lifestyle merch. Everything can be turned into a brand in 2023, and radio is no exception to the rule.

Tapping into these stations is like having a personal tour guide to underground culture—a discerning authority on the best sounds, scenes, and movements emanating out of various cities across the world. No gatekeepers, no corporate control, just vibes. And the best part of it all? Being able to listen back to each broadcast, all of which are archived online in a much more accessible manner than terrestrial radio.

Tune in and turn up with this guide to some of the very best independent radio stations spicing up sound across the globe.

Ghana 1 Oroko Radio Accra

Oroko Radio is a nonprofit internet radio station based in Accra, Ghana that aims to share stories from West Africa’s creative community. With the African diaspora in mind, the station has expanded its reach through international collaborations with “Afro-vegan” collective Jah Jah in Paris and Refuge Radio in Berlin.

Japan Palestine + Jordan

2 Tokyo Community Radio Shibuya, Tokyo

Straight from the mean streets of Shibuya, Tokyo Community Radio focuses on spotlighting the next generation of underground DJs across Japan. The station’s calling card is its “sessions” initiative, which encourages emerging musicians to share their tracks for the resident DJs to play.

3 Radio Alhara

West Bank + Amman

Created during lockdown by five friends living in Palestine’s West Bank and the Jordanian capital Amman, Radio Alhara is known for fusing music with political activism. The station defies borders through its existence alone, and is hailed for promoting genres as diverse as Mongolian hip-hop, Moroccan pop, and Palestinian drill.

England

France

Georgia

4 Balamii Holdrons Arcade, Unit

13, 135a Rye Ln

Since 2014, Balamii has grown from a hidden gem in South London to a global destination for underground hip-hop and electronic music. Whether it’s Central Cee and Dave pulling up to freestyle, or euphoric cuts from resident DJ Laurellah, Balamii’s got the aural goods.

5 NTS 89a Kingsland High Street

NTS is one of the world’s premier independent radio stations, dedicated to eclectic taste and a keen ear for what’s new. Since 2011, the platform has hosted regular sets from Four Tet and Björk, collaborated with brands like adidas and Brain Dead, launched a festival, and maintained a star-studded list of resident DJs.

6 Lyl Radio

25 rue Sergent Blandan

Launched in 2015, Lyl brings together “activists, record store owners, label founders, DJs, musicians, specialists, geeks, weirdos, and amateurs” to broadcast daily from France. The station is a purveyor of outré sounds for every palette—from avant-garde jazz and hip-hop, to ambient and noise music.

7 Mutant Radio

4 Dimitri Uznadze St

Mutant Radio is a femme-owned media platform run out of a caravan by an old power station in Tbilisi. The station broadcasts live mixes, performances, and discussions, as well as educational shows. Its flexible programming schedule also allows anyone to submit their sets for airtime.

8 HÖR Hasenheide 47

HÖR was founded during the pandemic and is located in a storage unit resembling a jail cell in Berlin’s Kreuzberg district. The station live streams its DJ sets on YouTube six days a week, hosting legendary selectors like DJ Stingray, Helena Hauff, and Pangea.

Mexico

9 Radio Nopal

C. Jose Rosas Moreno 123

Radio Nopal is run by a collective that emphasizes diverse and experimental programming aimed at showcasing CDMX’s rich culture through an authentic local lens. Thanks to thought-provoking conversations and left-field mixes, Nopal ramps up Mexico City’s sonic offerings, while also inviting up-and-coming DJs to pull up and spin.

USA 10Dublab

1035 West 24th Street

Founded in LA during the dial-up era, the non-profit station has been a perennial purveyor of eclectic music. Dublab has worked with labels like Stone’s Throw and Brainfeeder and hosted legends such as Egyptian Lover and Lee “Scratch” Perry, all while staying dedicated to championing new artists and sounds.

10 TIPS FOR RUNNING A RESTAURANT FROM YOUR HOME

WORDS

VIDEO FOOTAGE

Shyan Zakeri of Shy’s Burgers highlights

ten do’s and don’ts when running a makeshift restaurant out of a Brooklyn apartment.

Shyan Zakeri of food pop-up series Shy’s Burgers—who you can read more about on page 36—started his business during the end of the pandemic in a friend’s apartment kitchen in Williamsburg. The self-taught chef and his pals would lower plates of his now-famous double-stacked patties, alongside a mini beer, in a bucket out the window to hungry folks waiting on the street. The customers would either put cash in the bucket to be lifted back up or send Zakeri a Venmo. To put it simply, they were running a DIY restaurant out of a three-bedroom.

Over the past few years, Shy’s Burgers has evolved into a roaming pop-up known for grilling at parties hosted by hip New York menswear shops such as Noah and Colbo, as well as doing menu takeovers at established restaurants like Gem and Babs. The events are consistently packed and the food sells out well before they end. But it all started in the Brooklyn apartment with that red bucket, a handwritten menu, a gas stove, and a crew of supportive friends.

It’s not easy to run an unlicensed food enterprise, but Zakeri has built a successful cult business that continues to grow. Still, he misses the era when Shy’s Burgers was just a fun pandemic lark and not a full-on job. He learned a lot during the project’s 1.0 era, and has amassed some tips and general best practices he continues to embrace today. Below, Zakeri shares his do’s and don’ts for running a DIY restaurant out of an apartment or on the street.

1. Never ask for permission, and ideally you will never have to ask for forgiveness. Act like you’re supposed to be there.

2. Do not involve the government.

3. Remember: Venmo has a monthly limit.

4. Have at least two fire extinguishers on you at all times.

5. You should only have one enemy at a time.

6. Ask your friends if you’re actually funny. Be real with yourself and play to your strengths.

7. Go out every night you can. You’re not selling your business, you are selling yourself. At the end of the day, it’s not about the product.

8. Get good at one thing. Make it perfect. I promise you it’s not there yet. Do not pawn off garbage to your friends. Have some respect for their time and money.

9. Try not to be a dickhead.

10. Be nice to your roommates for the inconveniences you cause. Make them dinner, buy them a bottle of wine, make them smile. BONUS

Do not buy a 2002 Range Rover P38.

1017 ALYX 9SM alyxstudio.com

ACNE STUDIOS acnestudios.com

ASICS asics.com

AUDEMARS PIGUET audemarspiguet.com

BALAMII RADIO balamii.com

BALENCIAGA balenciaga.com

BARRAGÁN shop.barragannnn.com

BOTTEGA VENETA bottegaveneta.com

BRAIN DEAD wearebraindead.com

BUSHLAND bushland.online

CONVERSE www.converse.com

DIESEL shop.diesel.com

DESTROY LONELY destroylonely.net

DR. MARTENS drmartens.com

DSQUARED2 dsquared2.com

DUBLAB dublab.com

ERL erl.store

FERRAGAMO ferragamo.com

GIVENCHY Givenchy.com

GmbH gmbhgmbh.eu

G-SHOCK gshock.casio.com

HELMUT LANG helmutlang.com

HERON PRESTON heronpreston.com

HÖR RADIO hoer.live

HOUSEPLANT houseplant.com

JACK DANIEL’S jackdaniels.com

JACOB ROCHESTER jacobrochester.com

JACQUES MARIE MAGE jacquesmariemage.com

JANE WADE jane-wade.com

JIL SANDER www.jilsander.com

JON RAFMAN jonrafman.com

KARU RESEARCH karuresearch.com

K.NGSLEY k.ngsley.com

KWK kwk.digital LL, LLC ll-llc.com

LOUIS VUITTON louisvuitton.com

LYL RADIO lyl.live

MARTINE ALI martineali.com

MARTINE ROSE martine-rose.com

MAYA MARGOLINA mayachka.com

METALWOOD STUDIO metalwood.studio

MONCLER moncler.com

MOWALOLA mowalola.com

MUTANT RADIO mutantradio.net

NTS nts.live

OAKLEY oakley.com

OROKO RADIO oroko.live

PARIS TEXAS paristexas.net

PEELS peels.nyc

PETER SUTHERLAND petersutherland.com

PHIPPS phipps.international R13 r13.com

RADIO ALHARA radioalhara.net

RADIO NOPAL radionopal.com

RICK OWENS rickowens.eu

ROA HIKING roa-hiking.com

SACAI sacai.jp

SAINT LAURENT ysl.com

SHY’S BURGERS shysburgers.com

SMALL TALK STUDIO smalltalkstudio.biz

TELFAR telfar.net

THE LOT RADIO thelotradio.com

TOKYO COMMUNITY RADIO tokyocommunityradio.jp

THUG CLUB thug-club.com

UNDERCOVER undercoverism.com

VIBRAM vibram.com

WILLY CHAVARRIA willychavarria.com

Y/PROJECT yproject.fr