MOON
ILLUSIONAL LANOISULED ISSUE FOR CREATIVE VISIONARY
DES IGN
uT udo
Rad roiu
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Jen
iam
TD IRE CTO R
AR na M
orle
Sca rlino AR TIS E R T Jus SD tine S Lor ervi nB Nav na P atar arro ridm lo o WR re + I Jen Dan TERS nife iel M Kat r Da oula ie Fo y+ tis + nd + Je D nna ervin B Mo rley atarlo MO STY + DE LIS LS T Jen Na na tas Mo ha rley Bat HA t+ IR + Sea MA nK KEean UP Anc e hale eS aeLee
RS
PH OT OG RA PH E y
CO I n o r d e r
NT RIB o f
a p p e a r e n c e
UT OR
S
THE VISIONARY SELF
a person or thing referred to with respect to complete individuality
something that constitutes a real or actual thing, as distinguished from something that is merely apparent
DECEIVE
something that deceives by producing a false or misleading impression of reality
to mislead by a false appearance or statement
MIROR
something that gives a minutely faithful representation, image, or idea of something else
REALITY
ILLUSION
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ARMYOFME A COLLECTION BY DERVIN BATARLO
DESIGNER & ILLUSTRATOR Dervin Batarlo PHOTOGRAPHER Radu Todoroiu STYLIST Jenna Morley MODEL Natasha Batt HAIR + MAKE-UP Anchalee Sae-Lee
Katie Fotis
A luring submerge with no surrender. A sanction without retur n, A stretch of our own, A sense of another, Attached shades of grey, Always one step backwards, Bind. Bind. A l w a y s o n e s t e p b a c k w a rd s , A t t a c h e d s h a d e s o f g re y, A s e n s e o f a n o t h e r, A s t re t c h o f o u r o w n , A s a n c t i o n w i t h o u t re t u r n , A l u r i n g s u b m e r g e w i t h n o s u r re nder. Katie Fotis
YOUR VISION
I was in the lounge of this young couple me and my friend had met the other mountains then come back to this hotel for some complementary Thai food an simply must come back to theirs and stay the night. I thought to myself it was and these people were nice enough, so I was cool to go with. I only knew my friend, although I think at this point he liked the idea of getting progressively more drunk and lik So we’re in the lounge and I’m still feeling terrible from the night before, head induced by a boxed white wine. I’m sitting/collapsed in a beanbag on the floo about everything and there’s a dog trying to hump my leg, which of course dis brief while. Nice dog though.
Earlier I’d felt intimidated by the pace of conversation between my friend and t the company with, feeling like the smoker in a race, giving up and sneaking of other side of the table. I thought perhaps that i had been hard on myself befor making me feel uncomfortable and like I’m sort of not up to their standard of s this feeling. I’d made a judgement, for my own self worth, and concluded that quite arrogantly regarded myself as someone who talks from the heart and the the face. This decision enabled me to carry on unscathed.
So this was me defending myself. Thoughts ran through me like ‘their talking f language from over here is something of a performance’, ‘did he even hear wh like they were spewing words and signs out into the room and I was the only o got enough of a stimulus from each other to keep the talking along the same t outrageous rate (I was angry to be left behind).
It took a short while but then i thought to myself ‘no, i shall not judge no longe from me. These conclusions of mine are only fueled by the paranoia that I am often is. I felt that surely these people think I’m stupid like ‘why, this person ha haps they were, but, that isn’t the point. The point,indeed, was that I needed t toriously happy with myself. I was starting to go the right way about it.
By accepting (acceptance is the key) that I could, for whatever reason be it inc and was, at best a SPECTATOR. The sport went on with my, only intermittent, that what I did say was of some worth to these people). I also ACCEPTED tha and were in fact similar INDIVIDUALS hell bent on talking until they passed ou
day. We had done a 20k walk around the nd mojitos where we were told that we s a bit of a mission over the hill back to ours, motives of course I cannot speak for my
ked the flow of this chit chat. only just released from a vice like grip or, listening to the other three converse srupts the flow of conversation for a
the young woman we were now in ff to see what was happening the re. These two people were social competence. I didn’t like t these people are talking shit. I ese two in front of me talk from
for the sake of it’, ‘the body hat she said?’...and so on. It was one who could see them. They just tracks and sped off from me at an
er’. i don’t like this attitude coming being judged also, as the quiet one as nothing to say, how boring’ and perto prevail through this social scene vic-
competence or lack of sleep, not keep up , commentary (although I’m willing to think at these people were not like you or I or them, ut. Which was cool enough.
It was all fine. I smiled and got myself comfier in the bag of beans. Dog had left the building and was no longer a worry or distraction. Head had come to a decision: That even though it was intimidating to hear such quick discussion, they didn’t mean to make me feel like that, and were blissful in their ignorance of this feeling I had (I was glad of this). And furthermore I deserved to be here, I was invited and I was kind to them. Further once more, I was, and still could be the kind of INDIVIDUAL that lacks the capacity for such high-speed interrelations and exchanges of wit, but, I am unique and offer something different and difference is great, it stops the universe stagnating. I might offer a more lateral perspective that this sort of person needs, who knows, I might not also. But anyway, I got through it, and with a smile and some awesome dreams to follow no less. I was no longer bitter, jealous, angry, bored...I was just going to bed and this evening had taught me stuff about tolerance and appreciating diversity or something. Lovely. Daniel Mouland
YOUR VISION
D* WORDS Dervin Batarlo PHOTOGRAPHER Liam Scarlino ART DIRECTOR Jenna Morley MODEL Sean Keane
In French, the letter ‘D’ is a homophone of ‘des’, which means dice.
A boy stares back at me with his empty eyes. He seems confused yet glazed as if his mind is blank, devoid of any thoughts. Silent and still like a lifeless object. I stand in front of him, thinking what could possibly be in his head. I feel like I know this person. I have encountered him before, yet I am very unsure. At this moment, I wonder what it would be like to get inside his head, to be him and experience his life. More so, explore his world, a world that seems different to mine, yet very similar. The idea of altering ones identity is very appealing, after all, my identity seems worthless. It means nothing and has no qualities.
Jean Baudrillard quoted (Impossible Exchange, 2001) “Identity is a label of existence without qualities.� Today, we are constantly bombarded by the media on what we should look like, making us reinvent our look and our identities. We then change ourselves to be accepted by the society to the point where our identities get so diluted that it becomes meaningless.
A boy looks back at me with his glassy eyes. He seems dazed but at the same time, inexpressive. Silent and still like an unanimated statue. Slowly, he started looking intensely back at me like he wants to say something, do something, show something. Somehow, his appearance is slowly changing. I have seen him before, though I am quite unsure when and where. I feel connected to him yet I am unsure why. I would like to find out who he is and what he wants from me, though I find it very difficult to communicate with him.
“Identity is a dream that is pathetically absurd. You dream of being yourself when you have nothing better to do.� (Baudrillard, 2001)
Isolated, the person in front of me seems to recognise me. He wants to say something though no words will come out of his mouth. Some sort of a warning. Feeling desperate, I feel the need to do something drastic. I need for him to go away. I need to run away as far as possible from him. Though, I do not think he is trying to destroy me. It occured to me that maybe it is me who is trying to harm him. A sudden sensation of fear has struck me. There is something about the boy that is frightening. Suddenly, I feel the idea of getting in his head will trouble me for the rest of my waking life. Unexpectedly, the boy turned around and started walking away. Though, this is not the end for there is always something beyond ‘the end’. Dervin Batarlo
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L O R N A
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Lorna’s work is based on the concept of repetition and resistance. She likes to push herself and the materials she works with to the point where they cannot perform no longer. She experiments using common, everyday materials to construct, each piece using a repetitive tedious motion. Top Left: Pillow, cling film, 42 x 38cm Bottom Left: Claw, vinyl, 30 x 15cm approx each Right: Submerged Metaphor, plywood, decal, glass, 30 x 12.5 x 10cm
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Above: Moustache Opposite Page: Tree of Dreams
J E N N I F E R
D AY
Left: Blue Faces Opposite Page: Faces
J U S T I N E N A V A R R O