Bright Diaries 5 by paale

BRIGHT DIARIES www.brighttradeshow.com

NUMBER FIVE Cody Hudson, James Lavelle, Misha Hollenbach, Dirk Vogel & J端rgen Bl端mlein, Kevin Lyons, Sacha Jenkins, Martha Cooper, Thomas Marecki, Dave Carnie, Tommy Bates, Jamel Shabazz, Sean Pablo, Sophia Chang, Amy Gunther, Will Sweeney, Alyasha Owerka-Moore

The Cons One Star Pro

Made by Eli Reed

Made by you

07.07.2015

Life is a tune. You can play like everyone else. Or you can rise. With THE CAGE from FILA

I n s t o r e s a u t u m n w i n t e r 2015 F I L A . c o m

editorial

Ladies & Gents, welcome to edition XXI of the Bright Tradeshow … we trust life has been an awesome ride since the last time we spoke.

Images: Micha Hollenbach

BRIGHT IMPRINT. publisher. Bright GmbH & Co KG Schwedlerstr. 1-5 / 60314 Frankfurt www.brighttradeshow.com printing. BluePrint AG Lindberghstraße 17 / 80939 München creative direction. Marco Aslim / Thomas Martini editor in chief / production. Sven Fortmann

What’s the hottest shit? Does individualism equal style when you add a healthy portion of charisma to it? Is a term like identification obsolete in our social media-paced times, where people tend to change their minds by the minute? Who’s in simply for enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame, and who will be picked for a second season? Was CS6 the final nail in the coffin of genuine artwork? And has the mainstream’s endless replicas of originality finally left those behind who never shied away from fighting the good fight? From the very beginning, it was quite clear that these are just a few of many, many questions we don’t even have the slightest intention to answer after having decided that this edition’s topic would indeed be “Streetwear”. Instead of trying to do a flawless chronicle, producing a wannabe-alternative brand bible or losing ourselves in napless predictions about the next generation of streetwear-related goodness, we offer you a carefully curated look on the creative minds and opinion leaders behind some of the most unique artworks and its related trends without any kind of pretense of completeness. So here it is: the “Streetwear” issue, the fifth issue of Bright Diaries that once again twists and turns the boundaries of what’s possible when you leave the changing room with a single-topic superstructure. Enjoy. And have a safe trip through this hot season. Yours truly, BRIGHT

editor. Renko Heuer contributing editors. Lisa Schmidt / Amber Grünhäuser proofreading. Amber Grünhäuser art direction. Aoki & Matsumoto graphic Jan Münz special shout-outs to all artists & helping hands involved; thank you all so much for your contribution and patience … Cody Hudson / James Lavelle / Misha Hollenbach / Dirk Vogel & Jürgen Blümlein / Kevin Lyons / Sacha Jenkins / Martha Cooper / Thomas Marecki / Dave Carnie / Tommy Bates / Jamel Shabazz / Sean Pablo / Sophia Chang / Amy Gunther / Will Sweeney / Alyasha Owerka-Moore

PRESENTS

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CODY HUDSON Whether you carry a soft spot for graphics being highly elaborate or downright silly, insanely detailed or loosely scribbled, handmade or computer generated, on a

wall or on your favourite tee, it is most likely that some of your most beloved pieces were originally formed in the mind of Chicago-based multidisciplinary artist Cody Hudson. Having delivered the goods for companies such as Converse, The Quiet Life, Volkswagen, Stacks, Nike and Red Bull Music Academy (to name just a few), Hud-

the colour and the shape struggleinc.com Instagram: @struggle_inc

son belongs to the first generation of celebrated artists that basically defined what we understand as street art today, as they offered a new departure for graphic design and contemporary art informed

by the DIY aesthetics of their background in skateboarding, punk, graffiti and hip-hop. Over twenty years later, Hudson still is on top of his game, as his ever-increasing portfo-

lio for his company Struggle Inc. and manifold exhibitions and murals easily prove. Trying his very best to juggle his commercial work with installation art, solo and group shows, his new found love for gastronomy and being a responsible dad, he somehow still found the time for an intercontinental chat with Bright Diaries.

Cody, both of us are from a generation where things weren’t by far as competitive as they’re now in terms of what you wear … or did you experience some kind of bullying back then because you were not sporting the right brand or listened to a certain kind of music? CH — I grew up in a smaller town in Wisconsin, about an hour north of Chicago. So for us it wasn’t so much getting made fun of for not wearing the right brand … but we were made fun of in general for being into punk rock and new wave and skateboarding and BMX no matter what we wore. Now it seems like it’s cool to be into that stuff but 25 years ago we were looked at as the outcasts and yelled at by jocks driving by the Sears parking lot we were skating in every night. Was it already a kind of conscious rebellion against the mainstream for you back then … or was it a perfectly normal thing to do? Would you say the vibe in Wisconsin was a bit more repressive than it was in the big cities? CH — I didn’t think of skateboarding as rebellion at first, it was just what we were having fun doing. We also knew kids in other cities doing the same and we would get magazines so we knew what was happening out there, maybe it just wasn’t as big of a scene in Kenosha so we stood out more.

Do you remember the first graphic tee that really left an impact on you? You know, where you already sensed in a way that you wanna give it a try yourself? CH — Probably the Stecyk Rat Bones logo always really stuck out to me … and I would try to draw it a lot.

What were the companies you were really into when you were a teenager? And would you say that what you dug back then basically paved the way for what you’re into right now? CH — When I was skating a lot I would pretty much just wear any cheap skate shirt I could find as I didn’t have a lot of dough and needed to spend my money on buying decks as they would break quite a bit. So I was into the brands and had the stickers, but I didn’t really collect the clothes. I would also try and make my own bootleg versions. We made an Alva logo stencil once and I painted it down the side of a pair of Kmart sweatpants, I wore those everyday with pride even though I really wanted the fancy Jimmy Z pants or whatever everyone else was wearing. You could say though that exposure to stuff as iconic as the Rat Bones logo, Skull Skates logo, and Foundation logos really stuck with me years later … also the xerox zine culture and drawing on your grip tape and just the general artistic freedom and weirdness that was going on in skating at the time, all really helped in playing a part in my aesthetic years later, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.

Cody Hudson

After that, the first brand that I think I was aware of as a real “brand” was probably Stüssy. By that time, I was working shit jobs like installing party tents in parking lots and would save up to buy a few Stüssy pieces a year. So it was a pretty amazing feeling when so many years later I started doing some work for them.

Are there any brands where you think that they’ve bitten the dust way too soon? CH — Subliminal Skateboards was doing some great artists boards ages ago with Mike Mills and a bunch of good people … I always liked what they were doing. Herb George turned me onto Alleged Gallery and that world when I was living in Vermont. Also, I think Original Sin snowboards was doing some great stuff with artists before it was as much a thing as it is now. I guess the good part of brands going away is that you can look back at them, and think of the good days instead of seeing them stick around past their prime … so I don’t really see it as too soon, to be honest. So obviously skate culture had a huge influence on you … and so did music. You’ve done some fantastic cover artwork over the years, but did you actually ever play in a band yourself? CH — Very, very briefly. I think I made it through two practices. (Laughs.) I wasn’t that great at skating but I was even worse at being in a band. What was your first fashion/company job? And do you remember when you first saw someone in the streets who was wearing something you’ve designed? Or is this something quite irrelevant to you? 22

CH — One of my first graphic design freelance jobs was doing T-shirt designs for the Sky High skateboard shop in Wisconsin. It was long ago enough that I remember using Typestyler to make some of them. I would get super excited to see those logos on people around town. Years later, I moved to Vermont to work at design firm JDK and started doing lots of work for Burton Snowboards, so seeing my work on the mountains was also quite fun. After that, I ended up in New Jersey for a bit, working at Ecko Unltd. and doing lots of record cover design on the side for labels like Chocolate Industries and magazine design for 12ozProphet … at this point you would see the stuff everywhere, so it was still exciting but I got pretty used to it as I would see something I did on the street or record store or book store almost every day. Now, I still get excited if it‘s a graphic I really like or a weird old one that still survived … but after 25 years it‘s less of a surprise to see something out there. It’s still fun though, now I just point it out to my kids and they don’t seem to be too impressed.

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Image â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Clayton Hauck

Webseite

In the mid-90s, things kinda exploded and a lot of money suddenly was made in the skateboarding and streetwear business. Coming from a DIY and punk rock background, how did you personally experience this development? CH — By that time I was already working for brands and spending most of my time doing graphic design and skating much less … I was so much into the design side that I didn’t really think too much about if I was keeping it too DIY or not. I still cared about who it was I was work-

CH — Now that I’m older and my time is much more managed, I don’t really have the time for clients I have to fight with all the time. It’s just not worth the money to do a project that makes you miserable, so I like to talk with them first and see if there is a vibe that we both get. I like to think if we would get along in real life then it might be more likely for the design process to be smoother. This is not always the case though. Worst case after a bad project, I know not to work with them again … (laughs), so my client list kinda weeds itself out pretty quickly.

I was wondering if you actually ever were a big sneakerhead? CH — I don’t think I would have ever considered myself a sneakerhead. I used to buy old Nikes ages ago when I would see dunks on clearance at the mall, but I would buy them to wear them. I was never too worried about saving the box or keeping them in good shape though.

ing with, but I was never one to go around and call people sell outs for working for brands. To me, graphic design is about solving a problem for a client, and so for that to happen you need clients. You should just be careful of who they are though.

So how important is it for you to actually know the people behind the brand before you agree to start to work on new designs?

So you weren’t a big fan of this “limited” and collectors culture, I suppose? CH — I’m a little removed from it, so I can’t personally understand the idea of waiting in line twelve hours to buy a T-shirt or pair of shoes. But I like the opportunities I’ve been given to work on limited edition projects and products that I wouldn’t normally have had a chance to work on. I also think it’s been great to see friends of mine that are artists being able to make more of a living by doing collaborations with brands. Making a living and raising a family off just selling paintings is not the easiest thing to do. And like everything out there, there is going to be some great stuff, some middle-of-the-road stuff, and a lot of not so good stuff. It’s up to you to figure out what things you want to support. Your visual style is a very significant one … and obviously companies address you exactly because of that. Still I was wondering if you then approach things a bit differently than you usually would in terms of developing/executing ideas?

Cody Hudson

CH — For brands there is really two types of work that I do. One is very specific to my visual aesthetic and feels more like an artist project or at least one where it looks like I did it and usually one that then my name gets attached to

it. The shirts I did for Norse Projects a few years ago fall into that camp. They were pretty much whatever I wanted to draw. A project like that I consider more of a Cody Hudson project. The other type of work that I have done lots of over the years is more traditional Struggle Inc. design studio work. For about 10 years, up until last year, I was doing lots of seasonal graphics for Stüssy. These designs were meant to more traditional graphics and although some, more than others, looked like I did them, they were not meant to all look like my personal style nor did they have my name attached to them but they were still coming from my studio. So I approach things very differently depending on the scope of the project.

You’re working as a graphic designer and artist for quite some time already … have you experienced that the job is changing for you over the years now that everybody is presenting themselves as a gifted visual maverick? CH — There are definitely more designers and artists than when I started 25 years ago, or at least we have the technology for them to be seen now where years ago things were a little more hard to find. I think it’s a good thing though, for there to be more people getting 26

excited about having a career in the graphic arts. Good work is still good work, no matter how many people are doing it … you now just have to try a little harder to stand out. Getting into art and design really helped keeping me out of trouble at a time when I was starting to fuck up a lot. It has helped me see so many places around the world and meet so many good people. I’m very grateful for everything that has happened to me because of this stuff so it’s hard for me to tell people not to get into it if it’s something they are passionate about.

As far as I know, you’ve kinda branched out into gastronomy lately … was that something where you were having second thoughts at first? Or do you see this as a kind of logical progression since there are so many creative aspects combined? CH — It’s an odd one … I was doing logos and design work for some bars and restaurants, and was into the food culture we have in Chicago, but had never really worked in a restaurant before. Myself and some friends, who were also building out bars in Chicago and booking music for them, all thought we were doing so much of the work for other people that we should give it a shot on our own … and build a bar and restaurant in the neighbourhood we lived in that we all would like to actually hang out at. So five years ago we opened Longman & Eagle in Logan Square, it really took off and we have received a Michelin Star five years in a row. After that, we formed Land and Sea Dept., which is the company that runs, designs and comes up with the ideas for more of our restaurant and event based projects. Since L&E we have opened: Parson’s Chicken & Fish (a fried chicken shack with a big summer patio and a great Negroni slushy), Lost Lake (a tiki bar with Paul McGee) and Thank You (an American Chinese takeout counter). We also have a big project downtown where we are bringing an old restaurant back to life … it’s called Cherry Circle Room and it’s opening up in the Roman and Williams designed Chicago Athletic Association hotel on Michigan Avenue. We are also working on an-

other smaller bar project back in Logan Square next year. We also do event-based projects, and do one-off concerts at interesting locations like the Garfield Park Conservatory. In the past, we have done shows with Bill Callahan, Wolf Eyes, Liturgy, Disappears and have a good one coming up in July with Fucked Up.

CH — A little bit of everything. Trying to be a good father and husband, all the LSD stuff above is also happening now, been working on a lot of steel sculptures lately, got a few art shows lined up including one at Left Field in California in June and one at HVW8 in Berlin in

Wow, this is quite an empire you’ve built there. Are you actually surprised yourself how this passion of yours developed? And how do you actually find the time to do anything else besides it? CH — Getting a Michelin Star was a pretty big deal for me … in the food world it’s a pretty big deal. It’s not something we set out to get, but we were honoured to get it. So I think after that we realized this maybe didn’t need to be a one off project, and that we did have something to offer people. But as far as the work load, I’m pretty busy with design needs for Land and Sea Dept., so it allowed me to not have to take on too much client work … which has been great, as now if I’m going to work on an outside project, I just make sure it’s one I’m really excited about. It also allowed me to spend more time in the studio, working on paintings and sculptures. It’s a pretty busy day, but I still try to find time to do a little of everything each day. Do you already experience that your kids are starting to turn their heads for the same things that you cherish? CH — Ha-ha! I would say the opposite, actually. My oldest daughter Birdie is into ballet, classical music and princesses, so I’ve actually found myself getting more into classical music as we play it in the house a lot. We recently built a small studio in the house for works on paper so I wouldn’t have to head back to my Garfield Park studio after I get them to bed. So she is getting into drawing and painting quite a bit now, so we do get to vibe out on that a bit. What are the cards holding for Mr. Hudson for the rest of the year … what are you working on right now?

the fall. Very excited to do a project with Family Artists at the Paolo Soleri Arcosanti site in Arizona. Still jamming on T-shirt designs here and there for friend’s brands, and hoping to get to spend some quality time in Wisconsin on a pontoon boat this summer.

words: Forty

Cody Hudson

SACHA

If you understand yourself as the sum total of your passions and interests, and if these then are deeply rooted in graffiti, hip-hop, punk and creative writing, it is most likely that the name Sacha Jenkins is a heavily familiar one. While he was still a teenager, he already published one of the earliest zines dedicated to graffiti art titled “Graphic Scenes & X-Plicit Language”, followed by co-founding Ego Trip magazine and realizing TV programs for VH1. These days, Jenkins is working as the creative director of Mass

Appeal, is about to finish a biography on the Beastie Boys and plays in The White Mandingos together with Murs and former Bad Brains bassist Darryl Jenifer. Oh, and he just experienced a celebrated premiere of his first feature length documentary “Fresh Dressed” earlier this year at Sundance. Goddammit, is this guy ever not working? “Fresh Dressed” basically is chronicling the history and impact African-American culture has on today’s pop culture, and while there have been films dealing with similar topics before, not a single one has put its focus as clearly on the fashion aspect of things as Jenkins’ debut. He enlists some of the leading rap artists to discuss their influences in creating their style and how it impacted the audience and themselves, as well as showing the evolution of urban fashion Image — Harrison Corwin

JENKINS – from southern cotton plantations to the gangs in the South Bronx of the early 70s to the malls of corporate America. Bright Diaries talked to the dedicated filmmaker and journalist in late April.

fresh dressed

Fresh Dressed, Documentary, USA 2015, directed by Sacha Jenkins freshdressedmovie.com

Sacha, you’re always juggling so many different things at the same time … how long did it actually take to get this documentary together? SJ — About a year and a half, I’d say. That’s nothing compared to other docs where you have to trail a wild monkey for fifteen years, but “Fresh Dressed” isn’t that kind of film. Having said that, I actually feel as if I had made this film my whole life, you know, growing up in New York with hip-hop as one of the main inspirations for who I became as an adult. Knowing who to talk to, knowing which footage to assemble, and knowing what kind of story I actually wanted to tell made the process a bit easier. How much was the footage you just mentioned informing the flow and narrative of your film? I mean it’s pretty much quintessential to have access to great archival material for this kind of film … SJ — It certainly is an important part. Luckily, I was pretty clear about where I get this footage, you know, films like “80 Blocks From Tiffany’s”, “Style Wars” and “Wild Style”. I’m friends with Henry Chalfant and Tony Silver, and I know a lot of guys who produced these classics early on. So I had a lot of access to great footage based on my relationships with people and knowledge of the culture. In the process of trying to tell the story though I discovered a lot more amazing footage … particularly gang footage from NYC in the early 70s.

I was wondering, when you look at old photographs from hip-hop pioneers like Cold Crush Brothers or Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five for example, how much of their outfits were informed by gangs back then? SJ — What happened in the early 70s was that gangs were inspired by motorcycle groups like the Hell’s Angels … and there were films like “Easy Rider” that were also highly influential to folks from the inner city, believe it or not. Obviously, it wasn’t too easy for the very majority of them to actually get into these gangs because they weren’t white. So they designed their own type of jackets to represent their gangs that were loosely based on what they’ve seen on screen. Later there was a truce between the gangs in the Bronx because of a nasty murder that happened, and that kinda changed the climate on the street, as it suddenly wasn’t cool anymore to wear these jackets. The early MCs and breakdancers wore shirts with an aesthetic and idea about customization that was clearly rooted in gang culture. Soon jeans jackets followed, on which graffiti artists painted the back. So by the time you saw these images you’ve mentioned in the mid-80s from a European perspective, you could still have seen these traces. But it wasn’t so much Grandmaster Flash … he and his crew as well as Bambaataa were more influenced by funk music and the way the guys in Parliament and Funkadelic dressed. And they were influenced by punk rock as well. So the fashion that happened back then was a mix of

Sacha Jenkins

gang influences and references to other music genres and artists they liked.

So how do I have to picture the state of the art fashion statement at the West Coast at exactly the same time? SJ — Hip-hop originated from the East Coast, and they found some inspiration in there … but their gang culture was a very different one, which then set different standards for what they wore. It was much more workwear, stuff that blue-collar construction workers would wear – Carhartt and Dickies. So when did these origins start to play a less important role in the whole movement … When did it turn into a dollar making machine with brands and entrepreneurs? SJ — Well, in the mid-80s there suddenly was a drug named Crack. Unfortunately, it was really successful, meaning: it made a lot of people rich, but also left a lot of people and

communities devastated. But with this new economy you had young hustlers who had a disposable income … and suddenly fashion was getting important to them. You had a guy like Dapper Dan, a designer from Harlem with his own boutique, who reacted to the fact that upscale brands such as Louis Vuitton would not sell to him. So he turned what they did into something the community would wear. He took Gucci prints and Louis prints and created his own fashion with it … and it became very popular with drug dealers and rappers. Even Mike Tyson at a certain point wore it. So, yeah, no one was making clothes for the hip-hop community, so it was up to this community to come up with something that reflected their attitude. When Dapper Dan did that step, it inspired a lot of people and eventually the rappers that were wearing his clothes – like Jay Z – started to work on their own clothing lines. So all of a sudden you had Rocawear and Sean John and a lot of other brands, which basically were the foun-

dation for the birth of an industry, which made shitloads of money.

What about pioneering streetwear brands like Stüssy … did they play a certain role as well in hip-hop fashion? SJ — There obviously is this whole streetcar culture closely connected to skateboarding, brands like Stüssy or Supreme … but my film isn’t necessarily getting into that world, even though it shares a lot of common values. But I feel like that part of streetwear is more of a white suburban phenomenon. The people behind those brands were coming from a different place, and my film is more focused on the urban experience, the black and Latino experience, with the idea of customization and the idea with an industry being born out of hip-hop that supported clothing and fashion, and the influence that the hip-hop style and attitude has on mainstream culture and mainstream fashion. How come this fashion aspect to hip-hop never really was that big on the West Coast? SJ — I talked to a lot of people on the West Coast, like Yo-Yo for instance, and she told me, for example, that they were never really into sneakers the way we were on the East Coast. As I said earlier, it was more limited to this workman’s uniform … it wasn’t very daring or creative. Street and gang culture had a major influence over there as well, but it was a very different thing compared to NYC – a very different attitude. It wasn’t too much about: “I don’t have much but I want to create something from nothing”. But it’s that attitude that the mainstream world later found very sexy and daring and thrilling and scary. And that’s where the hip-hop appeal comes in. I remember in the UK, even though with a completely different kind of music, the North was heavily into adidas while the South was sporting Nike. Did you experience something quite similar between the different boroughs of New York … or maybe between NYC and Philly?

SJ — Different regions certainly had different styles. Different brands would ship different colourways or different sneakers to different regions. Clothing brands back then weren’t catered to hip-hop, so there necessarily wasn’t any real intelligence working in terms of what the consumer is looking for. So ultimately the consumer just got what they had access to. This obviously is long before the Internet, where you could order any sneaker in any colourway you want. It was about what is available in your region. And this dictated what people in certain areas would wear.

How did you experience brands like Rocawear for example back then … was it surprising that they were also pretty much embraced by the white community? SJ — Not really. Jay Z, and all these guys, they were in business to sell clothing … so I don’t think anyone had an issue of who is actually wearing them. At the same time it was revolutionary that you have a music and a culture created by people of colour and the white Americans didn’t only like to listen to the music but loved to look like how they thought the music should look. They were embracing these brands as well. And this is somehow illustrating the power of hip-hop … because in some ways it has brought a lot of people in America together.

Sacha Jenkins

I was wondering: do you actually just chronicle the evolution of hip-hop fashion in “Fresh Dressed”, or is there a comment on it involved as well? SJ — The film basically is using hip-hop fashion to tell the story of hip-hop and its evolution. There have been a lot of films and books already that have chronicled the rise of hiphop, and I wanted to use a very different angle. When you consider how important fashion is

and considering the idea how clothing for some people represents value or who you are in society, I always recognized that there’s a difference between people of colour in the inner city and affluent white folks. When the film premiered at Sundance earlier this year, a 74-year-old white woman came to me and told me that she really isn’t dressing that fresh. She never really thought about clothing that way, because she’s used to wear her clothing for function … basically to not be naked. It never crossed her mind that her clothing also could have an effect on her identity. So the film was a revelation to her, and for me that was really interesting. That’s what I would love people to come away with from the film, this idea of how fashion can mean so much for some people, and how it can make them feel about themselves. The idea of the American Dream, obviously everyone would love to subscribe to it. Black people wanna be there too. They want to have a nice house and a big car and all these things that America tells you that you’re entitled to …

but when you realize that for some reason this dream isn’t coming to you in reality, and all you have in society are your clothes … well, that’s a different thing. Kanye West says in the film: “When I was young, I just wanted money to get fresh. Money to afford nice clothes so that I can look good and feel better about myself. And to distinguish myself from other people in my community to say: You know what, I’m not poor. I can wear the stuff rich people can afford. You should respect me.”

How were you back then? Where you one of those guys as a teenager? SJ — Well, my mother is a painter and my father was a filmmaker, so I was different from a lot of kids in my community as I had a real appreciation for culture. I grew up in the inner city, so while I had access and an understanding of culture, I was no better than anyone else. It was funny, in New York the Easter break is quite important … and when you came back from it and didn’t have lots of new clothes you would be ridiculed by the other kids at school. It separated the haves from the have-nots. So obviously, regardless if my mom could have actually afforded it or not, I wanted to have the new gear that everyone else had. My mom did all that she could and probably went above what she actually could afford … but some of my peers, their parents couldn’t do that, and so some of them

ended up selling crack so they can afford to have nice clothes. When I was making the film, I clearly realized that I’m also a product of that environment … and that’s probably why it was really important to me to tell that story.

What do you personally think of the most recent development, you know, with all these larger than life deals between companies and artists like Kanye and Pharrell? Do you regard it as the next logical step in this game or do you think that this is just way too much over the top? SJ — Well, I think like rock ’n’ roll before it … or let me start this way: rock ’n’ roll initially was that scary music made by niggers. The parents of young white Americans were scared by niggers – or the people that they called niggers – the African Americans they had no respect and no love for. When they saw that their children were becoming friends of that culture, when they saw that their children aspired to be black – or at least aspired to have this connection to black culture – society rejected it. But through time, music that originally was associated with black people turned into something American. So once Americans embraced rock ’n’ roll, it had a new face to it. Once the Brits said: “hey, we love the blues, we love rhythm and blues, and we take what these black guys were doing in the South and turn it into Led Zeppelin and into the Rolling Stones”, once that culture got transformed through the white transmitter, the perception of it changed drastically. So, what’s happening with hip-hop is, that it is now embraced by America. And America is saying that hip-hop is American. So you can have a guy like Eminem being really successful and being considered one of the greatest ever to rap. So now that hip-hop is American, Pharrell and whoever is doing these huge deals with brands, it’s just America saying: “we see value in this, we see money in this, so let’s make some money from it – let’s embrace it, let’s endorse it. Let’s say hiphop is American and Pharrell is an American, and he is one because he can generate lots of money, so let’s support it”.

Isn’t that incredibly sad – regardless of the actual topic – that things are regarded as having value just because you can put a price tag on it? SJ — It can be very sad. But that’s what America is all about. America is about capitalism. And capitalism is about exploiting the labour of others. And that’s why African Americans were brought to this country for the better of a handful of people. And some of the descendants of those folks still have money that was generated from back then. But I think America is also about culture … and America is very successful in monetizing its culture. Because of the many different cultures coming to America over the last decades in order to make it, you have the opportunity to experience something new. Something new gets made, and we go off and we sell it. The beautiful part of being an American is being a part of this melting pot and being creative and interacting with different people and coming up with something new, and people around the world being inspired by it. At the same time though, this comes with a price tag, and once that price tag has worn out its welcome, America doesn’t like it no more. So as long as America is able to make money from hip-hop, Uncle Sam is happy because he is getting his tax return. That’s all that really matters, unfortunately. And if what I’m saying wasn’t the case, things would be a lot different over here for the poor – regardless of their colour. words: Forty

Sacha Jenkins

Martha Cooper WOMAN OF was in Rome, and by the time this interview was conducted she was already back in NYC “documenting walls being painted on Coney Island”. Known as a key figure in documenting the early days of b-boy and graffiti culture, she’s been collaborating with heavyweights such as Puma, Supreme, and Obey in recent years – and yet we weren’t surprised to learn that she prefers photo books and classic prints over T-shirt collaborations and such … 34

It’s been more than 30 years since Martha Cooper released her seminal book “Subway Art” (1984) with Henry Chalfant, and yet the Baltimore native, who was born in the 40s, is far from slowing down: Her camera always at the ready, we first got a hold of Martha in Tahiti, a week later she

Kodakgirl.com Nycitysnaps.com

THE CROWD

Martha, what are you up to these days? Are you still working on that “Sowebo” project in southwest Baltimore, going back and forth between Manhattan and B’more? MC — Yes, although that project is winding down. I expanded it by comparing Sowebo to Soweto (South Africa) and had a big exhibit of the photos in Baltimore. Since you’ve been exploring the world with your camera for such a long time, how much have you focused on how people dress over time? Were there periods when you noticed certain developments in terms of styles and wanted to capture that right away? MC — I tend to look for clothing that the wearers have customized such as a painted jacket, a sliced up T-shirt or unusually tied sneaker laces. Store bought styles are not all that interesting to me. Do you remember the moment you realized the existence of “streetwear” that particular look and style associated with hip-hop, graffiti, skateboarding etc.? MC — Not really, although I definitely kept an eye out in the 80s for kids rocking something different. Do you mostly just care about feeling comfortable in whatever you wear? MC — Yeah, I mostly care about being comfortable. I refuse to wear anything that isn’t. A lot of my clothes have been given to me – T-shirts, jackets, shoes etc. It’s fun to wear clothes designed by artists I know. You’ve worked with streetwear heavyweights such as Supreme, Puma and Obey in recent years … which collaboration was the most rewarding for you? MC — The collaboration with Obey was the most extensive and my favourite. It was based on my black-and-white “Street Play” photos from the late 70s. Shepard also made collaborative prints from two of the photos, both of which I liked a lot. In addition, I had an exhibit

at Subliminal Projects in L.A. in connection with the clothing. So I felt that the photos were appreciated by themselves.

Which also means that, for example, a proper book release is more your thing – compared to a T-shirt release, right? MC — Right! I most like to see photos as photos, not as decorations on something else like a T-shirt, cap, bag or skateboard. A few years back, when we did our last interview, you stated that you consider breaking and such to be a kind of “creative play activity that kids invented for themselves,” in other words: games; does that mean the looks and styles attached to these games are something like players’ outfits to you? MC — Actually I see “play” and “games” as two different things. Games have rules with winners and losers. I’m interested in creative play without rules. In most cases, the clothing that kids are wearing in my photos as they’re playing is not particularly related to what they’re doing. Having been a professional photographer for 47 years, what are the main lessons you learned in those years? MC — Hard work is usually rewarded. What can you announce for the remainder of the year? MC — I’ve started a new project with Mundano in Sao Paulo about recycling. We’re working on an exhibition about Brazilian catadores – recyclers – that we hope can be shown elsewhere in the world. Right now, I’m shooting a big street art project in Coney Island and have lots of other trips coming up this year – Montreal, Berlin, Mexico, Norway and more.

words: Renko Heuer

Martha Cooper

Marok Appearances vs. lodownmagazine.com marok.info

Celebrating 20 years of Lodown this year, the pop culture/skate/art magazine he founded back in 1995, visual artist Thomas “Marok” Marecki is not only known for his interest in cars, racing, and art that can get your mind twisted and accelerated, but also as someone who’s been busy shaping and documenting what happens on the streets of his hometown: Berlin. Born in 1972 and raised on a healthy diet of skateboarding, BMX, and graffiti, here’s his take on the streetwear phenomenon …

Altruism Marok

shit. I even had a company called UMD, which I produced in California during my summer holidays around 94–97; I went there every year. Today, I am not so much seeking trends anymore, since I have different occupations to set my mind adrift. Looking good comes from an inner presence. I left the uniform game so to say – there are too many guys out there who look exactly the same.

Tell me something about Berlin in this respect … do you think Berlin had a special take on streetwear since the reunification … and what about the 80s in West Berlin? M — Actually, I have to admit we were copycats of the New York, L.A. and London scenes regarding fashion. I think the Berlin-style look developed a bit later. Thomas, what’s your definition of streetwear? M — The first encounter with the semiotic term was the brand VISION STREET WEAR who boldly claimed it for themselves, and in the late 80s that was fresh. Then in the early 90s everything became “street” – skateboarders and bmxers claimed the city streets for themselves and wanted to be rough and tuff, followed by gangsta rap and the whole glorification of a violent and military-influenced society – the violence that brought us World War III – the eminent media war. Do you like camo? How exactly did you first get into the whole culture surrounding it? M — Actually, it was BMX in the mid-80s that brought me to buy my first Vans, the OP back-print shirts and the Quiksilver surf shorts, and really got me hooked. It was new and nobody had it, just an exclusive circle – I think that was the point. I had to set myself off from the crowd. Later it was Stüssy that blazed the trail. How has this relationship changed over the past 2–3 decades? Are you still into the latest things? M — It was all about seeking and finding the smallest brands – everybody was doing that 38

Having established Lodown 20 years ago, what lessons did you learn from being part of this game for so long? M — Don’t expect gratitude – it’s your own thing you chase. Just give it to the crowd. All business follows the same structure: it’s not about talent, it’s about persistence.

Any definite plans to celebrate the anniversary this year? M — I am not a party. What’s next in terms of streetwear? M — Air corridor wear. What’s next for you? M — Live further happily and work on some outcome I can submit to society in a positive way. words: Renko Heuer

Marok

Dave Carnie Acidinvader.com Instagram: @acidinvader Latermagazine.com Kingshitmag.com Blamstudio.com

Wiener “Jägermeister, The Magical Fairy Stag” Andrew Allen graphic from the Antihero “Taal Of The Taube” collection. The Jägermeister was hunting in the woods when he came upon the virgin goddess Fartemis who was bathing near the shore of a large, dark lake. The young hunter was smitten by the goddess’ naked body as she frolicked in the waters, and he was transfixed by the sounds of her beautiful white buttocks that were farting, flapping, quaking, quacking, barking, burping, poofing, pooting, grumbling, rumbling, rattling, roaring, blowing, belching, stinking, sneezing, coughing, clapping, grunting, gurgling, squeaking, steaming, tooting, saluting, and just generally being flatulent. As he stood on the bank completely enthralled, Fartemis caught him watching her. For profaning her virginity and listening to her Sacred Southern Songs, Fartemis turned the Jägermeister into a Magical Fairy Stag, which was promptly dragged to the bottom of the licorice black lake by a Banshee Octopus. Together they feast on the blood of passing hunters in their underwater grotto and occasionally distribute swords to Kings with Certified Divine Lineage.

Talking to people who really, really care about streetwear can, if you’re out of luck, get really boring really fast. So we thought a guy who’s into some other things – wieners, boobs, beards, more wieners, golden spandex suits, rollerblades, dachshunds, that kind of thing – might be a welcome addition to the mix. Here’s the infamous Dave Carnie, former voice of Big Brother, author of “Boob”, self-proclaimed SNOOT, “full-blooded German” (that’s at least what his wife Tania likes to think), maker of wild, over-the-top collages (often featuring Wiener dogs) that recently even made it on a series of Anti Hero boards (“The Taal of the Taube”), and the man behind acidinvader.com, where you can find all of this mayhem in one place. Sit back and listen closely while he explains what’s wrong about all that “twerp fashion” … Dave Carnie

“Beowulf Delivers The Wurst Hearse” Beowulf emerged from the lake and strolled into town. (Beowulf was a Teutonic Doxie Warrior who would assume the shape of a Bearzerker when he entered battle.) He was accompanied by his Egyptian slave boy (part Horus, part Hobbit) who did his best to protect his master from the Papalrazzi, the official gossipmongers of the Catholic Church. Beowulf brought with him a gift for the people of the town: a sausage made with meat from the heads of Grendel and Grendel’s mother. It was a Monster Brat, a Wurst Hearse for the fiends who had been terrorizing the town. The people rejoiced that Beowulf had slain the murderous beasts. [Cut to: montage of milkmaids in bikinis, parades, onion ring cannons firing nostril bombs filled with Pooh boogers, wiener carnivals, etc..] But, pardon me, my mistake: Beowulf did not stroll into town. He did not stride. He smoked into town, goddamn.

Art

Dave, first of all, you’ve called yourself a SNOOT … do you think you’re getting snootier as you get older? And if so, does that mean that you rewrite more than you used to?

“Mother Wienearth And Treacle Down Pillownomics.” The Slotherway, a prehistoric sloth-like parasite that lives off the back of an elephant, arrived late to Mother Wienearth’s morning Bath in Lake Scholomance, a daily ritual where she addresses all the World’s creatures and assigns them their parade routes for the glorious day ahead while she is tickled by The Queen Bee and gets her Royal Meat Flaps dusted by the filthy peasants who live at the bottom of the Lake. Because the Slotherway is always looking the other way no matter what’s going on, he failed to notice that Jiminy Cricket had brought along his friend, Pinocchio, a wooden puppet that had been forbidden to attend the Nature Parade because of all his lies, but especially the one he sold everyone about Treacle Down Pillownomics. According to Pinocchio, if you prayed to his imaginary “god” before going to sleep on one of his supposed “Magic Pillows,” which he claimed were filled with the feathers of a Golden Goose (that we now know also doesn’t exist), all of your dreams will come true. Not only did no one’s dreams come true, but the Treacle Down, or whatever it was he was stuffing his pillows with, actually made everyone’s dreams slower and, in some cases, gave them nightmares, and diarrhea, and nightmares about diarrhea. Mother Wienearth scolded Jiminy for his indiscretion and then turned Pinocchio into a Jackass (again) and sent him to the bottom of the Lake where every morning for the rest of Eternity he has to lick it clean.

DC — I’m not sure if I can get any snootier than I already am, but probably. That seems to be the general tradition with aging: more snooty, more cranky, more crabby, etc. Although I have to admit I enjoy getting older. Of course the physical aspect of it isn’t all that fun, but mentally I’m much happier. But then again I was pretty much born an old man. My first job was working in a hardware store and most of our customers were of the old and cranky variety. The other kid that I worked with (who was missing the tips of all of his fingers because of a pipe-bomb gone bad), once compared me to the customers, “You’re going to grow up and be just like these guys. Because you already are.” I don’t know if I rewrite more than I used to, but I’m definitely more interested in editing than I was when I was younger. I enjoy reading about grammar and usage, and I love the Oxford English Dictionary. In fact, I just bought a book by the The New Yorker copy editor titled, “Between You And Me, Confessions Of A Comma Queen”. It’s an action packed thriller. So, yeah, probably getting snootier.

Of all the skaters and related folks you’ve met over the last 30+ years, who was or is the snootiest if you translate that concept to clothing/outward appearance? DC — I am the worst person to be posing fashion questions to. So I wouldn’t take any of my opinions in this area seriously. You may as well ask me about basketball. Which is sort of related to where I’ll begin. Anyone who matches and color coordinates their clothes seems, to me, to be rather snooty about the way they dress. Off the top of my head, Rob Dyrdek and Felix Arguelles come to mind – smart dressers and true gentlemen, both of them. Their ensembles generally revolve around a single color. For instance, if it’s blue, they’ll have blue shoes, with blue pants, a shirt that’s predominantly blue or has strong blue accents, and they’ll top it off with a blue hat (which, not that long ago, would have been tilted stylishly askew). I don’t think this way of dressing looks bad, but I just can’t do it myself. It reminds me of a uniform –

school uniforms, sports uniforms, military uniforms – and the stupid lil punker in me is like, “Bleh! Fuck that shit! And I’m not going to clean my room either!” I’m snooty on paper, but sloppy in real life. Which drives my wife crazy because she would prefer I made a little more effort in matching my clothes. It also reminds me of this line of clothing that was available when I was a child in the 70s: Garanimals (which still exists apparently: garanimals.com). It’s like a system of children’s clothing that allows stupid kids to dress themselves. Every garment comes with a tag that has a different animal attached to it – like a blue elephant, or a green frog – and the idea is that when you find a shirt that has a blue elephant tag, then you match that with a pair of pants and socks that also have blue elephant tags. What’s funny is I pretty much wear Garanimals: the tag for nearly every item in my closet features a black raven on it. So I guess I’m guilty of matching too. “I wear black on the outside because black is how I feel on the inside.”

Since you are known, sort of like the Nabokov of the skate world, to have strong opinions: what is the worst thing that happened in streetwear/skate clothing over the last three decades? Or can you make that a top 3 list? DC — I just read “Pale Fire” by Nabokov earlier this year and I’m shocked I hadn’t read it earlier because, in my opinion, it’s easily his best work – a very strange, yet amazing, book. Anyway, the worst thing about streetwear? Probably, the word “streetwear”. And the fact that streetwear is a thing. I just find the whole thing so stupid. Beginning with the fact that it should be two words and not one: street wear. So it’s just wrong from the get-go. Angel Cabada (founder of SUPRA and KR3W) made T-shirts a few years ago that appropriated the old “Vision Street Wear” logo, but instead it read “FUCK Street Wear”. I thought the execution was a little sophomoric, but I wholeheartedly agree with the concept. I call streetwear “twerp fashion”, because anyone who is a consumer of streetwear looks like a little twerp. It’s very infantile to me. The lines, the patterns,

the clothes, they all have a very childish, little boy aspect to them. Whenever I see streetwear, I’m reminded of Bobby Brady from “The Brady Bunch” in the 70s, or Beaver from “Leave It To Beaver”, both of whom were lil twerps. The modern twerp uniform is just an updated version of those little boy wardrobes. And you know I’m right because anyone who has ever seen that older guy at the skatepark or the shop who is decked out in twerp clothes will

“The Pussy Witch Worms” Once upon a time there were two old Wieners who lived in a shoe. Their home was besieged by Pussy Witches and they didn’t know what to do. The Pussy Witches buzzed their rooftop and left fart trails in the sky. The unholy clouds contained their evil minions: tiny Toxoplasma Gondii Worms that would parachute onto the Shoe House roof where they would party all night and drive the Wieners insane. “We’ll make them a special soup filled with poisonous poops,” the Wieners sang. “Two can play at this game.” When night fell they lit the cauldron on their roof, filled it with scale of dragon and tooth of wolf. They added fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron to boil and bake. Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork and blind-worm's sting, lizard's leg and howlet's wing, for a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble. The Worms had their party, and enjoyed the soup, the broth was delicious and so was the poop. But when dawn arrived, to cat butts they returned; and the contagious Worms made the Pussy Witches crash and burn. The End.

Dave Carnie

surely agree that it just looks fucking wrong. Or as I usually say, “Age inappropriate.” Men should not wear children’s clothes. So, in short, streetwear is the worst thing that’s happened to street wear. Because if I were to give you a list of specific horrible things that have gone in and out of fashion over the years, I would really be giving you a list of the best things that have happened in fashion. In my world, the worse it is, the better. Fashion disasters are fucking awesome. And in reality, a fashion disaster usually ends up being fashion that was just “ahead of its time”. Except maybe those giant Goofy Boy pants in the early 90s.

Well, then what are, in your opinion, the greatest fashion disasters of recent history? DC — 1. Action sandals. I can’t understand how anyone can look at a pair of action sandals and think, “I’m going to look good in those.” They’re kind of like visors for your feet. “I kind of feel like wearing a hat, but not a whole hat.” 2. The mixologist look, aka “The Olde Timey Bartender”, which includes suspenders, a bow tie, a stupid lil mustache, and a smugness that deserves to be slapped right back to the early 19th century where they should probably ask a real bartender how to make a drink in less than a fucking hour. 3. Big puffy skate shoes. You know these were a disaster because the only people who still wear them are jocks and douche pickles like Guy Fieri. 4. Tiny lil skate shoes. Conversely, I strongly dislike the ballet slippers that are popular among those who want to look like they’re from Brooklyn. I also don’t like their tiny lil denim baseball pants they roll halfway up their shins either. Peter Pan called and he wants his costume back. (We’ll talk about WHAM! in a moment.) 5. Fuck it: ANY shoes. Apparently I just hate shoes. Fuck shoes. And fuck waiting in line to buy shoes. Sneaker geeks are retarded. 6. Tank tops. On men. Put a fucking shirt on, nobody gives a shit about your stupid tattoos and we especially aren’t interested in your armpits. 44

7. Tattoos. Don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. 8. Cheetah print. I’ve written about this before, but I’ve collected even more evidence that shows it makes women crazy. A woman’s insanity level is directly proportional to how much cheetah print she owns. (“Cheetah print” is shorthand for any wild animal print.) Most women own a few items, which is fine, but the more they own, the crazier they are. Think: strippers. 9. Leather pants. I’ve also written about leather pants before. They are the male equivalent of cheetah print. Basically, it goes like this: unless you’re a rock star recognizable by a single name (Elvis, Prince, Axl, Bono, etc.), you are not allowed to wear leather pants. (Exceptions: women, gay men, and motorcyclists.)

What about the way female skaters, the few serious, shit-eating ones, dress and dressed over the years? DC — In all seriousness, I’m a big fan of female skaters. I think it was Mike Vallely who said they’re the punkest people in skateboarding. I totally agree. It’s because no one gives a shit about them, so the only reason they’re skating is for the love of it. And they don’t give a fuck. I should know because I went on tour with a gaggle of them. To this day, I think the Gallaz Australian tour I went on that we ran in Big Brother way back when was, and still is, the only feature article devoted to female skaters in any skate magazine ever? Those chicks were gnarly. They were like fucking pirates. Dirtier than a lot of dudes I’ve been on tour with and just fucking charging. I’m less interested in the way they dress and more curious about their lesbianism. Bi-curious? Maybe. When I was last hanging out with them (“them” = girls like my daughters Vanessa Torres and Amy Caron) we were kind of talking about it. A lot of female skaters are lesbians. “Newsflash! People in China speak Chinese!” But there were some who we thought might be going through a phase of sorts because it was so fashionable to be gay. Which is yet another thing that’s so rad about the female skateboarding scene: it’s so gay!

You got a degree in photography, but I guess since you don’t care one bit about fashion and outward appearance – you were never really interested in taking portraits, were you? DC — No, because I hate people. Why would I want to take pictures of them? No, I love portraits. I’m especially enamored by portrait painting – especially anything previous to the 20th century – the older the better. I’m not very good at it, but I do like my portrait of Andy Roy. Best outfit for running around Big Sur with a dachshund buddy? DC — I suppose the best outfit would be some sort of German Kaiser uniform: big jacket, epaulettes, lots of medals and chains and shit, jodhpurs, a sword in a scabbard, the silly helmet with the spike sticking out of the top, big black boots, that sort of thing. I think a regal costume of that nature would complement the majestic dachshund wonderfully, and it would look very striking if you were to come upon me and Beckett (my dachshund) dressed like that and standing together in a dark, damp clearing in the middle of the remote and heavily forested terrain of Big Sur. Maybe I’ll take a portrait of us dressed up like that? Shit, you should do a collage that at least resembles that portrait of you/Beckett/Big Sur/ Kaiser attire – for the magazine maybe? DC — Shit, you should shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which one fills up faster. I don’t think I’ll be able to get you anything any time soon, but I am seriously considering taking that portrait. The only issue is finding a Kaiser costume, but then we live in Hollywood, so it really shouldn’t be that hard, right? What we really need is a little spiked helmet for Beckett. You will be the first to see it when it happens. What about that whole dachshund fascination anyway? Do you like them because they just look the way they look, do their thing, eat etc.? DC — I just love wieners. A love I gained from my wife. Tania also loves wieners. She

had had two wieners before we met. (I like how those sentences read out of context.) So a year or two into our courtship I bought us a dachshund and named him Beckett. It was my first dog. I was into cats up until I met Beckett. And, yeah, I’m kind of gaga for wieners now. First: they look ridiculous. We call them “Nature’s Clowns.” And they look even more ridiculous because of how serious they are at times. I don’t think I’m amiss in calling them “little Nazis.” Beckett’s a sweetheart, and ultimately a giant pussy, but he’s militant about protecting his territory. Second: anyone who’s ever had a dachshund knows they have huge personalities. And lastly, I think I kind of look like a dachshund. You know how owners look like their dogs? We’ve been trying to figure out in what way I resemble a dachshund and we discovered it’s because I have short legs. I should say “shorter” legs. I had never noticed it before, and I’m still in denial about it, but my proportions seem to be just slightly off. Like, my legs are just a little shorter than they should be in relation to my upper body. Again, I am in denial about this, but Tania insists it’s true. I suppose it’s a good thing when it comes to skating because, if you’ve ever noticed, a lot of the best skaters seem to be a little squatter, with a lower center of gravity. I don’t think I have Hobbititis, like Steve Rocco, but maybe I’m a little bit like Lance Mountain? If I could skate like Lance Mountain I’d be totally cool with it, but unfortunately my affliction doesn’t seem to come with any benefits. I’m like a fat lady with tiny tits. All I get out of it is a little fat wiener.

BTW: Being German, I’m not familiar with the concept of “Whamming” your pants. What is it? DC — I know WHAM! was an English group, but I always thought they got their style from Germany? No? Hm. Weird. It’s a practice that fits perfectly in the universe of Deutsch mode. Anyway, yeah, I am guilty of whamming my pants back in the 80s. I just poked around online to see if I could cut and paste the procedure, but no luck. So it falls to me to describe

Dave Carnie

the ancient practice of how to WHAM your pants: 1. Grab the hem of your jeans down by your ankle and pull it away from your leg and towards your toes. Your jeans should be tight against the back of your leg. 2. Then fold the hem around the inside of your leg, making sure that it remains tight all the way around - the tighter the better. 3. Now, from the bottom, roll the hem up as high as you can so that your pants are very tight around your shins. WHAM! Congratulations, you just whammed your pants. I have no idea what the point of it all was. I suppose we were trying to wear skinny jeans before there were skinny jeans? But I will say that WHAM! pants are no less ridiculous than those drop-crotch pants that are so popular today. I suppose I should have added drop-crotch pants to my fashion disaster list because they’re so awesome: the bottom half are WHAM! pants, all tight in the ankles, while the top half looks like a senior citizen wearing a Depends diaper with a full load. I also like to imagine that anyone wearing a drop-crotch has a giant tumour in their scrotum and they need the extra room to fit their giant, 30 pounds of testicles.

We have to wrap this up, but what else are you guilty of yourself, apart from those Whammed pants? DC — Well, I’ve worn a gold suit on multiple occasions in public and I don’t think you can get any worse than that, so I’m pretty much guilty of anything else you can think of. Except cornrows, I don’t think I’ve ever had cornrows? Although there was a time when I was going to get them. Chris Pontius and I started a funk metal band (a la Limp Bizkit) when we were shooting the pilot for “Jackass”. The idea was that we were going to put an ad on Craigslist, find some funk-metal singers, and then film the auditions. Chris and I were going to get cornrows, dress like idiots, and just generally do really uncomfortable homoerotic shit while we 46

performed. I remember we wrote a funk metal song, it was very funky, but that’s as far as it got because I think that was around the time that I bowed out of the whole “Jackass” thing. Too bad, I’ve always wondered what I would have looked like with cornrows. I’m guessing I’d look really good in them because every white person I’ve ever seen with cornrows looks fantastic.

So, apart from those wild wiener dog collages (still daily?) and your recent Anti Hero boards, what keeps you busy these days? What’s up with King Shit? DC — Yeah, I still play with my wiener every day. But I don’t post every day anymore. I did one wiener collage a day, every day, for two years. It was an exercise in creativity. I was forcing myself to make something out of whatever the dachshund calendar provided each day. I accomplished what I wanted to do there, but now it’s more about quality over quantity, and I’m a little more discerning about what images I work with. Discerning. What a dick. And, yeah, having Julien approach me about doing a series of Anti Hero boards was a real honour. I’m really happy with the way they came out and it’s brought me a little bit of attention, which has been nice. I like when people look at my wieners. What else? Oh. King Shit is the king of shitty skateboard magazines and I do a little bit of stuff here and there within its pages for shits and giggles. In my opinion, the only two skateboard magazines worth looking at anymore are King Shit and Thrasher. I’m also writing for King Shit’s shitty travel magazine, LATER. It’s not shitty, I just like saying shitty. The story from our trip to Finland is in the new issue. Uh, let’s see, oh, another book is finished and it’s being shopped around at the moment. I’ve also been doing a bit of freelance ad agency work the last few years, and, in that regard, I’m happy to say that I’m looking forward to doing some work with the very talented group at the brand new Blam Studio: an all skater creative agency based out of Berlin. Other than that, yeah, wieners. words: Renko Heuer

“Citizen Jane From Canada” They say she was formerly a he, and an admiral in the Royal Reichsflotte no less, but now she goes by the name of Citizen Jane From Canada. Citizen Jane From Canada now sits in her room smoking cigarettes, grooming her pussy, and writing erotic poetry, only coming out at night to go shopping for hats with her Sugar Daddy who made his fortune in gumdrops and lollies. He’s the one bankrolling her upcoming collection of poetry, her first since the war, which is tentatively titled, “Who’s Afraid Of Anaïs Nincompoop?” But Citizen Jane From Canada is worried the title might be mistakenly received as pejorative, and so she is also considering, “I Heart Long Wieners,” “Sex Dox,” “Sedachtion Of The Minotaur,” “Hymn To Him,” and “Deep Penetraschund.” The book is due out later this year.

Dave Carnie

Pablo

Sean

Seanpablo.com

PARADISE PLANT

Amused about the kid’s high water pants (best quote: “Dude, your pants are so high you could’ve gotten through Hurricane Sandy without getting them wet.”), it was Chris Nieratko who wrote the following about the up-andcoming, black nail polish using FA Kid Sean Pablo, who’s been rolling with the Supreme/ Fucking Awesome bunch for a while now: “His pants were too short, his hair too neat, his arms flapped too much, he was too virgin-y, etc., etc. Personally, in terms of appearance, I just thought he was another young kid trying to figure out who he is.”

Based on what young Pablo told us about his plans to focus on photography (all images are from his recent zine “Teen Stabbing”) and his newly launched streetwear brand PARADIS3 (formerly Palisades Paradise), he’s certainly managed to figure out a few things in the meantime: “I’ve always been super interested in clothing ever since I was little,” Pablo told us about his name-changing micro brand. “It’s just fun to come up with new ideas and see them come to fruition. And this is just the beginning … there is a lot of stuff planned for the next few months. As for the designs, I don’t even know how I come up with stuff. I like making really dumb graphics sometimes. I just like to mess around with ideas and images.” An easy-going approach that so far has led to one collection – which sold out in no time – although the Bunny Pimp BIC lighters at 10 bucks a pop seem to be still in stock … words: Renko Heuer

Sean Pablo

James

unkle.com

“It’s a song about life, death, love, hate, wealth, poverty, racism … just a few things been runnin’ through my head,” says the opening sample of DJ Shadow’s “In/Flux”, released in 1993 and thus one of the earliest releases on James Lavelle’s seminal

Mo’Wax label, which he’d founded the year before with Tim Goldsworthy. Home to a wild bunch of musical greats ranging from Dr. Octagon to Money Mark, from Krush to Liquid Liquid, from early Blackalicious to Tommy G., Axelrod and back, Mo’Wax was beyond genre, beyond locale, be-

Lavelle Diary Of Ex - pression yond everything. It was Mo’Wax that brought more attention to Futura, and it was Lavelle and his bunch who introduced Medicom toys and A

Bathing Ape to the western part of the world … But while the song about Mo’Wax and its incredible impact on music, art, fashion, and design of the 90s and beyond has often been sung (just recently in a massive book called “Urban Archaeology” by Rizzoli), the title “In/Flux” also sums up Lavelle’s own journey quite well: An influencer who’s always been in search of new creative outlets and forms

of expression (music with UNKLE and as a DJ, label work with Surrender All, streetwear with Surrender), he curated last year’s Meltdown festival in London and has been hopping from one art event to the next to present his own works and do what he’s always been best at: create fresh “emotional contexts”. In short: Lavelle’s been doing what Shadow’s track says towards the end – “the record ends but we must begin again …”

James Lavelle

James, first of all, you’re in Cuba right now – what are you doing there? M — I’m working for the Cuban Biennale, so I’m lecturing at the university, and I’m doing a DJ show here. What are you lecturing about? M — Music and diversity. It’s about individuality in music, and how you find your identity. Speaking of that, I came across this quote “to use my energy to become what I dream I can be” – have you been getting closer to that over the years? M — Sometimes. It’s an endless challenge, I think, but yeah, I try. So it feels like you’re on the right path right now? M — Yeah, yeah, I’m probably the happiest I’ve been in what I do since I started my label 20 years ago. The last ten years have been an interesting ride, but now I feel very free in that way; I feel it’s the first time that I can really express myself as an artist. So yeah, I feel pretty okay about what I’ve done and where I’m at. It’s been a road, you know? And that road will continue, but yeah, I feel pretty confident and excited and happy and inspired about what I’m doing right now. That sounds good, and that quote was once printed on a Surrender shirt. What happened to Surrender? M — Surrender was, as most things that I’ve been involved with, maybe a little bit premature. It didn’t work out because people didn’t get it, but you know, that’s something that has been a constant in one’s creative endeavors. But so many people got Mo’Wax – and they still love the records you released back in the 90s! M — I don’t know, though. People have a romantic idea of the success or the influence, but at the time – it’s definitely not what people 52

think it would have been … otherwise it would still be going. Because people didn’t, in the end, understand what I was trying to do and therefore didn’t support it … and it didn’t continue.

Do you think making clothes is even more of a nightmare compared to releasing music? Is it even more difficult? M — No. It’s just anything creative, when you’re trying to make an individual stance, it’s always a risk, you know? Yeah, and so Surrender All is also history, right? M — That’s now finished. That’s now gone. But, you know, that’s part of it: It’s buildand-destroy, things have a moment, they represent a time in your life and, you know, when you’re coming off the back of something like Mo’Wax – which in the end, like I said, didn’t really have the support that one had hoped at the time – you react against that. And Surrender was a reaction against, in many ways, the sort of cleanness of the scene. I helped start A Bathing Ape, I had been involved with Japanese streetwear, American streetwear, changing things fundamentally – it was a different take on street music. But, you know, Mo’Wax was very clean, so when I did Surrender it was more juxtaposed, it was more rock & roll-inspired, at least in my

head, you know? Which doesn’t always translate in a literal sense, but it was about coming out of your 20s, this whole boys-with-toys thing, going into something which was much more about a relationship with rock & roll – the idea of rock & roll, not the sound of rock & roll. I wanted to do a street version of Hysteric Glamour. I wanted to do something, which was more sexually infused rather than sort of b-boy infused.

When did you get over this whole boys-withtoys thing that you just mentioned and how exactly did that happen? M — I mean … when Pharrell and Kanye and Nigo, and all those guys started doing the hip-hop thing. To me it was vulgar. It wasn’t about what I thought we’d created. Which was incredibly important to me. But Surrender was also a reaction against the fact that I thought

that, you know, you believe in people, and I never made any money out of those relationships – and suddenly, at a time when my life was becoming not so easy; I went from being a very young kid and having massive amounts of success to … by 27 I lost my label, you know? I’ve been working with someone like ASAP Rocky recently, and one could say, “Oh ASAP, he’s so

young,” but it’s like, well, at his age, I’d lost my label by that point; it was over. I was 27. So the fact that I had been part of a network of people and a world-wide sort of success in many ways, and at that point when it became commercially viable I wasn’t supported. When you see people walking around with more money in their teeth or their necklace than what you’ve made in your career – ha-ha – then you start looking at things in a different way.

Shit, yeah, I totally understand. But let’s talk about those earlier days … How did this link to Japan, which was so important, come about in the first place? M — Well, I studied martial arts, so martial arts was the key to my relationship with Asia. When I was 12, I studied Chinese to go to China, to study at a Shaolin temple, and I studied Iaido, Japanese swordsmanship, and I was a teacher by the time I was 14, and so my relationship with Asia was primarily based on martial arts. And then my experience at Bluebird Records (a shop in West London), you know, my heroes were people like Tim Simenon from Bomb the Bass, and so seeing Major Force as a label was something that was incredibly influential because my whole aesthetic was about music and design. And Japan had the greatest design aesthetic out of any country in the world at the time, and don’t forget there was no Internet, there was no way of seeing these things other than getting there. So a part of my whole dream as a teenager was to be able to get to Japan … and this was after martial arts; martial arts was always compromised by hip-hop and weed and girls, you know? But it’s something that always stayed with me, that fascinated me and that’s part of my religion. And you know, I met Michael Kopelman, so him and Tim Simenon, and guys like that would come to the shop that I worked with and gave me records, and I thought they were the coolest motherfuckers in the world. They had the best clothes, they had the best look, they had the best taste – and so I wanted to be part of that, and then when I worked at Honest Jon’s Records I met

James Lavelle

Toshi and Kudo, who are the founders of Major Force, started hanging out with them and then made my first record with them as UNKLE and worked with Straight No Chaser Magazine, and Paul Bradshaw, the editor of Straight No Chaser, was married to a Japanese woman, and the whole jazz/Gilles Peterson thing had a big relationship with Japan, collecting records was hugely part of the Japanese thing because they had the best record stores – and so I got out there when I was 17, 18.

Do you think this whole digging aspect was something that also got you interested in streetwear – although it’s certainly over since the Internet has arrived? M — Absolutely. It was essential. If you wanted to get a pair of Dunks, you had to fly to New York; if you wanted to get a 40% T-shirt or a Major Force record or a rare Japanese … you know, because in Japan they used to issue records differently, so they’d always have exclusive versions – and so if you wanted those things you had to go to the country. You had to find a way to do that. And it wasn’t about money, I wasn’t rich or anything like that, I just found a way, and through those experiences you met everybody. And you created your own communication. So I went to Los Angeles and hooked up with Delicious Vinyl, because Orlando, who ran Delicious Vinyl, he’d come to buy records at Honest Jon’s; the same with Major Force. I mean Honest Jon’s was an incredible conduit for music and culture. It’s probably one of the most funda54

mental bases of my career, really, because working in that shop allowed me to meet MC Serch who worked at Wild Pitch, or Alby or DJ Jules who worked with Tommy Boy. So I could go to New York and meet these people … I met Fraser Cooke, I met Trevor Jackson, I met Richard Russell, I met Karl Templar – and most of them are now pretty much the fabric of what we now call contemporary street culture/music/art. I met James Jebbia when I was 16, you know? All because of the shop, and Fraser, it was all about records, man; records were the key to everything. If you had the right records you met the right person. And that was my skill. I got the records, I got the promos from America, I got the rare funk records and the rare jazz records, that’s how I met everybody, and that also allowed you to travel. Sleep on somebody’s couch, do whatever it took to get over there. So I went to New York, and I met Alby and Jules and those guys in New York, and people like Terry Richardson. Japan, L.A., Italy, Spain, France, La Funk Mob, Mc Solaar … it’s very, very misread or misunderstood but the whole Acid Jazz scene was a pivotal place for culture. It gave you amazing opportunities because it was respected globally: It was the first global underground music that became really – to me, for my generation – influential in that it allowed you to travel. And so I went around the world, and that’s how I met Mike D, and that’s how I met Futura, and that’s how I met Nigo, and that’s how I met all of these people. The network was creative because there were very few of us, so those relationships were very important.

You just mentioned James from Supreme, but nowadays this whole “you have to go to NYC” thing is over now that you can order stuff online, don’t you agree? Even for them. M — It is, but in respect of Supreme, they still retain that thing, I think. You can buy it online, but there are not stores in Mongolia, you know? He’s the one person out of that world who – at this point in time, after this journey – really kept it real. And that is the power of it; that’s why it’s still so powerful. But you know why? Because he didn’t give a fuck about it. He didn’t try and be cool, he had amazing taste, and James knows what the right thing to do is. I mean I really admire James. He wasn’t desperate. He didn’t need to be part of the scene – he created his scene. In many ways, Mo’Wax and Supreme were very similar in the early days, but, you know, I was very young, and my success was the fact that I would throw myself into the frying pan, but my failure was also that. James didn’t do that. He’s still on the other side of the river. And that’s why Supreme is what it is today … and will always continue to be that way until, maybe, he sells it or, you know – nothing lasts forever. Out of everybody in the street scene, he’s the person that I have the most respect for. And it’s the only brand I wear as a gracefully older man … you know I don’t rock Supreme in the sense that everything that I see is for me, but as for T-shirts that I like, he has the only logo. I don’t give a fuck about most brands; he’s the only brand that I have continually supported for the last 20 years. I remember when I was 17, he came over to me, Fraser knew him, he was best friends with DJ Jules, and he came over to our apartment and gave us a T-shirt, said, “Hey guys, we got this new thing called Supreme.” That’s how I met him and then I went to New York with Fraser and went to Union – no, actually I’d met him before, I’d met him because of Union. I went to Union when I first went to New York – on the advice of Fraser Cooke. So he came to my apartment, gave us a Supreme T-shirt, and then I went to the store and met Giovanni Estevez, who is my best friend, you know? Has been for 20 years.

What about UK connections at the time? M — Well, there are three people, or actually two people that are the most important people in street culture in the UK. If you want to boil it down, if you want to go back, like in music, you got Michael Kopelman and Russell Waterman in the UK, and Russell, when I put my first record out, Slam City Skates was in Portobello Road, just by Honest Jon’s, and he came down and was like, “I really like what you’re trying to do, I will support you and sponsor you.” I wasn’t a skateboarder, I mean my brother skated with Tom Penny and shit like that, but when I was a kid it was like, “fuck skateboarding, I’m into hip-hop.” I was into DJing and breakdancing and graffiti, but Russell wanted to sponsor me, he came in and he started giving me free stuff, and then he started importing Fuct and X-Large, and he was the conduit for me to meet Mike D and Money Mark; and Michael I’d met when I was 14 when I worked at Bluebird, you know? He had Stüssy, he invited me to his warehouse and would hook me up, you know? We all shared the same love of crazy music and DJ culture and all of those things. But those guys, if

James Lavelle

you want to break it down, you got Hiroshi, you got James, you got Shawn Stussy, you got Michael and you got Russell. To me those are the fundamental bases of what is now … I mean I’m in Cuba, and half the people wear the shit that those people championed.

Yeah, and it sounds like all those memories are still very much present and alive … M — Yeah, but it’s about respect. It’s about history. You can’t mark it, sell it and buy it, you have to learn it. Education and history, it’s something that’s free, and it’s really important. It’s really important to be factual. And this scene, and every time I look at things, you know, there’s myths, and there’s legends, and there’s a lot of unfactual things. What did you personally take away from doing the Mo’Wax book recently? Anything you learned from that experience? M — Hmm, to be proud and humbled by the experience of what I had. And to really feel that we were part of something, which stood for 56

an incredible change in things, you know? When you’re living it, you’re just doing it, you don’t have the time, you don’t think about it, and in retrospect I’m very proud of those experiences and people that I worked with. And I think it’s something that can’t be repeated because it was a different period of time, you know? I did that label with no Internet, with no mobile phones particularly. It was different; it was the lunatics running the asylum.

But you’re still doing stuff, right? What about those Mo’Wax collaborations with Nike, Converse …? M — Yeah, I did Nike last year. I did a Converse limited edition, an unreleased project, again last year. Supreme, A Bathing Ape … I’m working on projects this year: The “Psyence Fiction” reissue, the Director’s Cut of “Psyence Fiction”; I’m working with people like Undercover, Neighborhood, Medicom. At the moment there’s a few Japanese things going on – there’s records and things and stuff spinning in the air, so yeah, I like the idea of Mo’Wax now being a way of collaborating and sort of associating to certain things that I like. I mean the reason for all this clothing last year was because we had the book, and it felt appropriate to do it in that way; I didn’t want to do big re-releases of records and stuff like that. I had “Meltdown”, which I curated at the Southbank and a big exhibition, and it just felt appropriate in that way, but it’s kind of cool. I kind of look at Mo’Wax as this thing now that if I want to collaborate with someone, I can do that. And that’s cool. Where it goes I don’t know. But I think next year it’s more important to also get back into the music. You mean with Mo’Wax – or with UNKLE? M — I’m writing the new album right now, so there will be a new album next year. It’s taken me a while to get back into that place, it’s been nearly five years since I made an album, so that’s really exciting. And it’s exciting at the moment, there’s a whole generation of people that I’m collaborating with that have been inspired by what we did 20 years ago, or whatever, like

working with ASAP, which has been great, you know? And there’s a lot of other people, but it’s been interesting to meet … you know, there’s a really amazing, like young, amazing … it’s hard to say a rapper because I think he’s an amazing songwriter, but if you imagine a combination of 3D and Tricky, it’s this kid Elliott Power that I’m working with. Him and his crew, they kind of remind me of what we were doing when we were kids – the whole “Blue Lines”, sort of UNKLE-era stuff. I’m very excited about working with him. These kids, they know everything, really, it’s the first time that I’ve met kids that really get it and know. Because that whole period when it became sort of Kanye and Pharrell and those guys, in all respect, they don’t know. They don’t know.

Yeah. M — They don’t really know about the essence of the history. It’s just materialism. It never was about materialism. If it was about materialism, Mo’Wax would be around today … you know, the last person I hired at Mo’Wax signed Adele.

Wow. M — So I’d be worth a lot of money. But that wasn’t what it was about. It’s about the experience – and the art. So these kids are really great, and they’re making great records. So would you still say that you’re mostly interested in creating “emotional contexts” – like you did with the Meltdown festival? M — Absolutely. Mo’Wax and everything that I’ve done has only been me trying to express myself and kind of say something. That’s what art is about. You make it sound like such a small thing though. And it had such an impact! M — It’s not a small thing. Absolutely, it’s a massive thing – but it’s the context of it. And the context, it’s about expressing myself. And sometimes you get it right, and sometimes you don’t – in the context of peoples’ opinion. I’m just trying to say something, and sometimes it’s not the most important thing in the world; there are much more things that are much more important, you know? Doctors and nurses and you know – but it’s about relationships, and Mo’Wax and all of the things that I do is like a diary of expression. Today, I’m doing this, and tomorrow I’m doing that. Sometimes things juxtapose, sometimes things make sense, sometimes they don’t, but in my head … it’s just me trying to express myself. And so now is just a continuation of that. When you look at age, I was 27 or 28 when Mo’Wax finished; then I went on a DJ mission because that was the basis, the fabric of what I always did. Without collecting records and playing records there would have been no Mo’Wax. Then you decide to tour with a band and be rock & roll and live that life, and then suddenly you wake up, I’m 41 and you’re like, “Okay, I can go back to the past, and I can understand that, be more accepting of that and happy about that.” So I’m sort of in this period now of collaging it all back together in some weird way, so it’s very exciting. But you have to go off on tangents, if you don’t go off on those tangents, I mean without trying to sound ego-

James Lavelle

tistical, it was always about trying to do it first. We did the first toys. We were the first people to do a label in the way that it was. Internationally, there was no other independent label like it at the time. The way that we dealt with artwork, the way that we dealt with packaging, that’s really normal now. At the time people complained. I made the first toys – people complained. I don’t mean it in an aggressive way, but it’s always about trying to do something unique and new, you know? And then when it becomes commercialized, it kind of becomes boring to me. That’s always been my journey. But now I feel like I can kind of go with the flow because I feel like I’ve done that time. I’m very proud of that now. But for a period I was … you react, you know? So when Mo’Wax finished I didn’t want to do something like more Mo’Wax, I wanted to do something in the opposite direction. And now it’s interesting to see it all coming together. And that’s really exciting: I’m in Cuba at the Biennale, last week I was in Venice at the Biennale, the week before I was in art week in Berlin …

Oh, so you were here! I read the name James Lavelle at that amazing Ngorongoro show in Weissensee – but I thought maybe it’s another James Lavelle?! M — Yeah, I did the car! Jesus, that’s amazing. I went there a couple of times because it was such a stunning group show. M — Yeah, it was a great show, and that was really exciting to me because for the first time in a long time it was this great crew: it was me and Jonas Burgert and John Isaacs and Dave Nicholson and Zhivago Duncan and people like that; that was exciting to me! That feels like Mo’Wax to me, you know, that show was like Mo’Wax to me.

words: Renko Heuer

Tommy Bates instagram: @tommy4

“I’m a huge fan of film … in fact, I‘m always finding myself mostly inspired by the big screen and nothing gets me more excited than a good movie. The idea to put popular characters in streetwear slowly developed over time, and it has started off over a year ago now. I was drawing out Gandalf, and it wasn‘t going too well … so when I got to his shoes, I just decided to put on a pair of Nike Huaraches as a joke. To my surprise people received it really well. Since then, I‘ve done two series, “Star Wars” and “The Simpsons”, both in streetwear, which got really popular lately.”

mmm …

street wear! Tommy Bates

And for good reason. After over 560 episodes, Bart finally gets rid of his signature blue shorts and orange tee in order to up his credibility ante in Supreme, whacky Ned Flanders receives a Yeezy makeover, and Homer can finally rise and shine by rocking Bape. Combining state-of-the-art streetwear with some of the most beloved characters in pop culture actually seems to be a no-brainer, yet not too many artists have touched that subject in the past. Or better: hardly anyone did it with such expertise and appetite for details as British illustrator and graphic designer Tommy Bates. “Laws that fall around fan art are really unclear and the boundaries are very blurry. If they’ve asked me to stop then I’d have no other choice but to do as they say. (Laughs.) Personally, I’d like to think that I was helping to bring the “Star Wars” series back into the limelight … so it’s not just something that’s reserved for the nerdy – because let’s face it: “Star Wars” is just rad and ever will be! As a kid fashion trends and style obviously didn’t bother me until I entered my teenage years … it started with all the surf brands as I was into that scene at the time. Music plays a huge part in fashion, too. There’s a lot of inspiration to be seen in icons such as ASAP Rocky, Kanye West etc. Fashion can be used to express your current mood, taste and personality; it really is a strong part of my life. Having said that: as a creative however my core principles are that clothes have to be comfortable and practical over everything else!” words: Forty

Tommy Bates

Dirk Vogel & Jürgen Blümlein

Having told the entire story of skateboard footwear in their seminal book “Made For Skate: The Illustrated History of Skateboard Footwear” a few years ago, authors Dirk Vogel and Jürgen Blümlein recently joined forces once again – this time, to “chronicle the history of skateboard fashion told by the people who lived it”. When this edition of the Bright Diaries went to print, their yet to be released illustrated history of skateboard apparel, bursting at the seams with in-depth interviews and

fauxami.de dirkwriter.com madeforskate.com skateboardmuseum.berlin

visual treats spanning six decades, didn’t even have a confirmed title, but hearing them talk about this massive, two-volume book made us feel both jittery with anticipation – and a bit nostalgic for all the things that came and went over the years …

Attire Appraisal 62

How did you come up with the idea for this new book about skateboard apparel … was it a specific person or era that triggered the whole idea? DV — After we finished our book on footwear, “Made For Skate”, we knew that skateboard fashion would be another powerful part of skateboard culture to explore. It’s just such a cool history, with so many trends and companies and influential individuals that set the paradigm for entire generations of skateboarders. I think that the way you dress always has an impact on how you feel on your board. It can even make you more confident and skate better when you’re stoked on your outfit. JB — Working on “Made For Skate” was a tough task but when you finally can hold the printed book in your hands and get all the great feedback from readers, you know it’s worth to document skateboard history and culture with a book. And as we all know – first thing in the morning after we got up is to choose what to wear. So as Dirk says it was very natural to start working on a follow-up book covering the unique skateboard styles and culture – this time from caps to socks! In terms of skate fashion, what are the heydays for you guys personally? The kind of thing you probably feel nostalgic about … DV — For me it was the mid-1990s when pants went from clowny-baggy to proper fits worn with a little sag below the waist, and overall skateboard apparel went really “fresh” and clean-looking. When Droors came out with all their different fits and cool materials in pants, not to mention the Ralph Lauren Polo and Nautica inspired jackets, and Biggie and Wu-Tang were on top of their game. And swooshy pants. Those were the jam! I was working for Limited Magazine/Urban Supplies distribution at the time and was privy to all these clothes for free. As for nostalgia, probably the late 80s when skate clothes were rare and expensive and you would wear the hell out of that one Thrasher hoodie you had. JB — The day I will never forget was when I bought my first “real” skateboard brand

T-shirts. It was a Powell-Peralta “Bones skateboard skeleton” shirt and the famous “Skull and Sword” design. Remember how much attention the shirts got, including a lot of beef from my parents and teacher for wearing them “in public”. I was 15 years old and it was the first time in my life that clothing had such an impact. It was defining my own style and being a symbol that I’m part of a special lifestyle and movement. Soon after the skulls, Vision Street Wear was huge and further defining the modern fashionable style of the 80s followed by the most unique style and look of skateboarders in the early to mid-90s – big pants small wheels, which again got even more attention and beef from society than the skulls.

What’s the worst thing that happened in skate fashion, in your opinion? DV — I was really alienated by the super-tight, women’s stretch jeans in the late 90s. Sometimes a little bagginess helps cover up awkward style, and not everybody wants to see every contour of another man’s body while they exercise.

Dirk Vogel & Jürgen Blümlein

JB — Skateboarding has seen many weird trends like hip-bags and berets. But as a skateboard historian, I would say it’s very important to be very neutral in judging and trying to imagine how things evolved. For example the hipbags – there was a need for storing your house keys and skate keys while cruising the city. Most interesting is for sure again the 90s baggy pants and XXL shirts style. All skateboarders I know that lived through that crazy phase are very sentimental about it – but when you have a chance to try a Blind or Big Deal jeans, they instantly recognize how silly that looks and looked.

What else can you tell me about the book? Who’s going to be in there? DV — Our approach is to talk to the people who lived the culture, just like we did with “Made For Skate”. We’ll cover the general history of skateboarding from decade to decade, but always with a specific focus on how it relates to skate fashion. The rest has already been done, so fashion is our unique focus. Some of the people we talked to include Tony Alva, Christian Hosoi, Stacy Peralta, George Powell, Patti McGee, Steve Rocco, Steve Caballero, Wes Humpston, Mark Gonzales, Lance Mountain, Keith Hufnagel, Damon Way, Andy Howell, Don Brown, Claus Grabke, Jim Phillips, Jeremy Klein, Pierre Andre, Alphonzo Rawls, Steve Douglas, Dave Duncan, Jimmy “Jimmy’Z” Ganzer, Skin Phillips, Grant Brittain, Dave Swift, Mark Oblow, and Chad Muska. JB — Of course our blueprint is the “Made For Skate” book, and I see the apparel and fashion book as a follow-up – like an encyclopedia from the Skateboard Museum studies of skateboard culture. Similar to how we started with barefooted skateboarding in our shoe book, we’re going to start with the pre-skate surf culture influences on skateboard styles. Like surf and racing stripes and surf trunks and board shorts. On the historical side, we work closely together with Todd Huber from the Skateboard Museum/Skateboarding Hall of Fame in Simi Valley as our historical advisor and resource. He knows everyone in the skateboard world and he 64

helps us a lot to get in touch with the right people. Apart from the interviews, we look through all the skateboard magazines of the time and try to watch as many videos as available. But it will not only be a “brand” and “shirt” book – we will also focus on some outstanding skateboarders of each decade – we call them Style Icons. For example, people like Tony Alva, Steve Olson, Duane Peters for the 70s and of course Hosoi and Natas for the 80s.

Who were some of the most amazing people to meet? DV — The interview with Christian Hosoi was probably the most important one for the book, since he is such a style and fashion

icon – maybe the biggest in skate history. For me personally, interviewing Steve Rocco was a highlight, since I was part of the World Industries/street skating generation on which he had such a big influence. It was also the most unlikely interview to get, since Rocco has been super reclusive and hardly talks to the media, so we were lucky that Danny Way’s brother Damon (Droors and DC Shoes founder) made it happen. After the interview, Rocco asked: “Do you guys want to see where we invented street skating?” So we went out to the Hermosa Beach pier on longboards and downhilled from the top of the pier at night. That felt surreal, Rocco zipping by in front of me on a cruiser board in the darkness, like, “Can somebody please pinch me?”

And it’s going to be mostly guys? JB — No worries – as we all know, fashion is naturally more seen as a girl thing. Of course we talked to several famous female skateboarders. As a style icon of the 60s, we will feature Patti McGee – well-known from the Life magazine cover in 1965! We will also show some rare self-made Santa Cruz girl clothing from Judi Oyama, as she was forced to create her own

team apparel, as it was simply not available. For the book I’m very happy that we were able to sit down with all these skateboarders and as Dirk says, some are just a must-have when you talk about fashion, like Tony Alva for the 70s. But I’m also very pleased that we also had the chance to sit down with brand leads, artists and designers. One superb interview we had for example was with Jim Philips of Santa Cruz “Screaming Hand” fame.

Do you think there’s a strict line one could draw between skate fashion and streetwear? What’s your personal definition of both fields? DV — That’s a huge question. There are definitely similarities and it’s pretty hard to draw the line. Let’s say, a lot of streetwear could easily qualify as skateboard fashion, but not all skateboard fashion is necessarily streetwear. Skate fashion also draws from other, broader influences. As for the current definition of streetwear, I think we’re seeing a lot of “clothing” right now – basics such as sweatshirts, button-ups, and tees in elevated versions – but not necessarily a lot of “fashion”. Fashion implies more of a statement, a dose of personality. And I don’t

Dirk Vogel & Jürgen Blümlein

them for today. And as we all know, it would be tough for skateboard brands just to make a living from skateboarders as customers – they need to be wearable for people who are not skateboarders but also fit into today’s streetwear. And it works in both directions: brands like the European division of Carhartt are a good example for streetwear brands, which are very much liked and worn by skateboarders as well.

How did you first get into streetwear and the culture surrounding it? And what did that look like? DV — I was a vert and skate park kid when I started, so most of the stuff I wore was what Bucky Lasek and my other idols wore, like shorts and pads and helmets. Streetwear really started for me around with baggy pants and the see that if you’re one of a million dudes in a gray jersey crewneck sweatshirt and a five-panel hat. JB — Yeah, there is no strict line. Skateboarders always took influences from their surrounding scenes like surf in the 60s, punk and new wave in the early 80s, also hip-hop and rock – just to name a few. That’s what the style of skateboarding reflected. Take, for example, Vans shoes: they started as a typical 60s canvas casual boat shoe style brand and were discovered by early skateboarders. The shoes suited their style and needs. And today Vans stand out as the skateboarding shoe brand and is worn by everyone who likes the California boarder lifestyle. What I really enjoy today, especially in skateboarding, is that there is not one certain style of clothing you “have to wear” like it was in the early 90s when even hard-core street skaters like Mike V started to wear baggy pants. Today, we have the so-called Old Schoolers with Vans, jeans and a black shirt next to the late 90s new school tech kids with earphones. You just see every style today reflecting a certain time when the skateboarder was kind of socialized. Also, we have lots of newer 90s brands like Supreme, HUF or from the European side Palace borrowing ideas from the past and rethinking

injection of hip-hop into skate videos, around 1991, 1992. And that was when skate brands began making knock-off logos of early streetwear favorites, like Champion, Starter, and Polo and all that. So my younger streetwear look was probably Big Deal baggie pants, some oversized T-shirt with a logo print, Starter cap, and a hoodie.

JB — As said, I was the typical late 80s Powell “Bones Brigade”/Vision Street Wear skateboarder. A big plus for me was that I started early on to work in skateboard shop, so I had a great inside what was going on at the streets.

Like when Stüssy became the shit we had people waiting for hours when the rumor was out that we would get a delivery from them. But on the other hand, it was interesting to see that all the new skateboard brands like World or Blind or not so famous ones like T-Bags had some hard times in the beginning to be accepted by the kids. VSW, Powell, Santa Cruz etc. was strong for so long that it needed, as Dirk says, some very unique and special videos to break that bond the skateboarders had with the “big” brands. That was at least what was happening in Germany. But after a certain time no one wanted any late 80s wear any more what is kind of a benefit today especially for the book – as I still have my Vision carrot shaped sweatpants in a good shape hidden in a box!

DV — Let’s say some of the latest things are hard to pull off when you’re forty years old, ha-ha. And at that point, you just know what kind of stuff you like. I definitely grew out of big logos as I got older. On a positive note, I think the attention to cuts, materials, and overall finish has never been better in streetwear than today. The problem is that customers have zero value appreciation because they’ve been trained by the Internet to expect 70% rebates on current gear just for knowing how to shop with a web browser. JB — I live in the past every day – like watching old videos or documentaries and flipping through 70s and 80s skateboard magazines seeing all the great shirts and shit you never could afford when you were young. Now, from time to time, we are able to get some vintage skateboard apparel at Ebay in size S – sometimes for a crazy amount of money – and you simple cannot wear it – that is a huge bummer for me personally. But sometimes I’m lucky; for example I recently got a great Powell sweat pant with the Caballero Bats on the side, which I wear. Nowadays, I get some beef from my wife how silly I look with it.

What about German skate fashion? Is it going to be a big thing in the book?

How has your relationship to streetwear changed over time? Are you still into the latest things? Dirk Vogel & Jürgen Blümlein

DV — We will definitely cover Homeboy and some other brands, but wait and see. JB — As we did in the shoe book we will also display the Euro side and Germany for sure! Does any one remember Hidden Eggs? We will show the shirts and tell the story. Also, I’m a big fan of Stefan Marx/Lousy Livin’, and brands like Clepto, Radio and Robotron, to just name a few examples, have some great shirts and designs worth displaying in the book.

When do you think it’s going to be released? DV — Hopefully soon, it’s been a long process compared to our shoe book, “Made For Skate”. That’s because skate fashion is more complex and diverse, and because we also talked to a lot more people this time. Another factor is that for “Made For Skate” we had sponsor support – and today the skate fashion industry is basically teetering on bankruptcy. Between 2009 and 2010, sales in the “board sports apparel” dropped by 45% because the recession hit and kids saved money and shopped at H&M. And those sales never recovered, so the market is much smaller and nobody has money to support us financially. It’s a labor of love and we all have to make a living first for our families, but we are also motivated by all the great – and mostly untold – stories that our interviewees have shared with us. 68

JB — As Dirk said, 400 pages to cover 50 to 60 years in skateboard fashion is a tough one. As we shot already so much great material for the book we had problems to squeeze into one book and were kind of forced to make tough decisions what NOT to show. We do not want to create just another best of T-shirt design book; we want to tell the stories and display ads and great pictures from awesome photographers next to the apparel. So we decided to create two books and make the cut at the 90s. But after the great interview with Christian Hosoi he gave us the idea to make a cut more in the mid-to late 80s when street skating became the big thing. We will cut now as the big players were still big and start with Vol. 2 at the point the new skater-owned brands changed skateboarding forever. Wait and see – we will try to finish it as soon as possible! words: Renko Heuer

Jamel Shabazz reflections from the 80s Bittersweet Lower East Side, Manhattan, NYC 1982 Archival inkjet print Edition of 9 plus 2 AP 76.2 x 60.9 cm (30 x 24 inches)

The Unknown Riders Flatbush, Brooklyn, NYC 1981 Archival inkjet print Edition of 9 plus 2 AP 76.2 x 60.9 cm (30 x 24 inches)

“This photograph represents a new stage in my street photography, where I began to create a series of environmental portraits.”

Huge Cazal glasses on the nose, the adidas Superstar on the feet and a boombox at the ready – documenting the vibrant New York street life during the 80s, Jamel Shabazz’ photographs reveal that streetwear in its origins is all about style and nothing about fashion. Born and raised in Brooklyn in the 1960s, Shabazz picked up a camera by the sweet age of 15 and started to capture his everyday surroundings. While his view was shaped by the violent and war-torn visual imagery of the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement, his early street photographs give a pretty personal insight into his neighbourhood, with its predominantly African American community that was back then harassed by social and political injustices, poverty and violent rival street

“This picture conjures up so many memories. The male in the photograph is what is known as a ‘gentleman of leisure’ and the two females are, for lack of a better word, his investments. I am not clear on who the young child is in the photo, but I take it that someone is the parent. There is so much to say about this photo, but out of respect for my subjects, I will just call it ‘An illusion of love.’”

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Jamel Shabazz

gangs, as well as the blooming hip-hop movement, which both cultivated a distinctive flamboyant style with lots of individual attitude. As a person of trust the young photographer gave the (struggling) cool kids from the streets a forum to present their style and personality, and thereby created a one-of-a-kind visual diary, which is still influencing streetwear, fashion and global youth culture decades later. Far away from the visual platitudes of today’s street styles, which do play a primarily artificial role in the multimedia/social media-based fashion cosmos, Jamel Shabazz’ street photographs show this rather rare authentic connection between fashion, lifestyle and attitude that makes these images style-defining – and even though they can be easily connected to their historical background, they spread a kind of timeless significance. As recently proved through his solo show “Reflections From the ‘80s” at Cologne based Hardhitta Gallery, Jamel Shabazz not only gave an exceptional insight into street culture at that time, but he influenced it permanently. words: Lisa Schmidt

Three Males at the Beach NYC 1980 Archival inkjet print Edition of 9 plus 2 AP 76.2 x 60.9 cm (30 x 24 inches) Rude Boy Brooklyn, NYC 1981 Archival inkjet print Edition of 9 plus 2 AP 76.2 x 60.9 cm (30 x 24 inches)

“Jacob Riis Beach in Queens, NY, was a major location to go to during the summer months, it was considered by many as an oasis and ideal escape from the concrete jungle. The three males in this photograph reflect the typical style of most young men of color at the time.”

“This brother was one of the most dapper cats in Flatbush, Brooklyn. Sadly, he would lose his life in a very violent confrontation shortly after this picture was taken.”

Kevin Lyons free all There are a lot of artists around these days, whose visual language is an impressively significant one. As a matter of fact, the list is seemingly endless, and so are the different levels of exposure. And while this list obviously is the perfect platform for people to agree to disagree about

terms such as relevance and meaning and sales prices, a handful of visual heavyweights clearly have turned haters into lovers through iconographic imagery with an apparent (accidental) universal appeal. And, yes, Brooklyn-based artist Kevin Lyons clearly belongs to the second category. Over the years, the contribution of the über-credible art director slash illustrator slash explorer of typography slash creative director slash hip-hop aficionado slash dedicated father slash design director slash tamer of monsters, Lyons to urban art and its connected cultures simply became an indispensable one. Just lately though, he got rid of the majority of his contractual commitments – he worked as the US art director for Tokion and senior designer for Nike amongst many other things – in order to focus completely on his craft as a freewheelin’ meaningful creative who just loves to surprise you with his next visual coup. Bright Diaries forced him to leave his desk for a chat in very late May.

naturalborn.com instagram: @klyonsnatborn

monsters Kevin Lyons

Kevin, how did your work actually get introduced to streetwear? KL — My involvement with streetwear really started around the early 90s. I had started doing graphic design as a side interest because I had graduated in film and video from RISD [Rhode Island School of Design]. While trying to get a job in film, I basically started doing a ton of music-related stuff ranging from album covers and zines to T-shirts and logos. How do I picture you as a teenager? KL — At RISD, I was exposed to and lived with a lot of amazing individuals and artists. Shepard Fairey was a classmate, and I hung with a bunch of talented artists and silk screeners that later became Urban Folk Art in Brooklyn. We all worked together and it was very entrepreneurial. We wanted to make our own way in this world. We were heavily influenced by both punk music and hip-hop and those sort of independent DIY, outsider-looking-in cultures. Music – punk and hip-hop in particular – were huge influences. Music provided our soundtrack and all of our content, really. That was a great era as the graphic tee was about to explode and the influence of skate culture and street art was coming from graffiti. Having said that: I cannot stress how big hip-hop was in my life back then. Even to this day, it is one of my greatest influences. The pace, the attitude, the rhythm, and most importantly the lyrics: descriptive words and verbs that I could draw and illustrate. But it was also the concept and spirit of it all. Hip-hop

was independent and entrepreneurial. It was done by kids like me with relatively nothing. It was aggressive and anti-establishment.

Any brands in particular you were heavily into back then? KL — There were a ton of great skate graphics, but really to me, it was Stüssy. Shawn Stussy was such a huge influence before I ever entered the industry, and we kind of wanted everything that he made during that early 90s era: the eight ball tees and hats, the pants and all of the graphic tees. We also wore Doc Marten’s Monkey Boots and a lot of Vision Street Wear. Body Glove was a cool brand, and of course you had to have your bright yellow Sony Sports Walkman [and] Technics turntables. We all had Public Enemy and Bad Brains T-shirts as well. In the winter we

wore Carhartt Duck Jackets and Merrell boots. It’s funny, the first graphic tees I loved were the hip-hop tour T-shirts of the day. Then came Stüssy and that art work – illustrated type and crazy lettering paired with photography and collage – really felt like something that I could do. Urban Folk Art made a great 40oz T-shirt by simply taking the label art off an Old E bottle, and Shepard was doing Andre The Giant tees, but, really, GFS’s Phillies Blunt T-shirt showed us all that this was a viable business.

when I first saw someone like Eminem wear one of my early designs. And then Nas. And I remember The Beatnuts. These, of course, were all milestones.

I was wondering: what came first, actually … your love for typography or your interest in illustrations? KL — Really both. I loved to draw and I loved to draw type. From a very early age, I copied logos and redrew them over and over … Early on in my career, what separated me from the masses was my ability to handcraft and draw type. So the act of drawing is really important to me. I came up right when hand-type was developing and making its way into the mainstream and marketing, so I feel I helped pioneer at least some of that, and that became what I was identified with for a long time. I still love drawing. I always dabbled in character illustration and I doodled the Monsters for years before I ever thought about bringing them to the forefront of what I do. Still today, I enjoy seeing people rock my stuff … It’s always a big deal to me. It still surprises and excites me, especially when I see rare stuff or now classic old school stuff; I meet a real fan of my work. But the random spotting is still fun, too. I never take anything for granted. Especially, as the Monsters develop. I want to see more and more people rocking them. And as they get bigger, it even becomes less important that the wearer actually doesn’t know who I am … I don’t necessarily remember the first time I saw somebody rocking my stuff, but I do remember

Let’s talk a bit about collaborations, if you don’t mind. How important is it for you to actually know the people or history behind the brand before you agree to start to work on new designs? KL — It is crucial. In fact, most of the big brands I collaborate with, I, at one point or another, have worked for. I worked at Nike and Stüssy and Girl and many others that I have since done collaborations with. Others like DC and Mighty Healthy and Stacks and Sean Malto and Colette, I just 100% respect them. Mutual respect is really the key to all of my collaborations. I want to work with brands and individuals that inspire me and that I trust and am friends with.

Would you, nevertheless, say that there’s a difference for you between working for Chanel or Girl? KL — Not really. My approach is pretty consistent across all brands. But, I do think hard about each brand individually. At my core, I am still an art director, so I am very sensitive to the needs and nuances of each individual brand. For example, I always want to inject humour into what I am doing, but the humour I draw from for GIRL Skateboards would be quite different from that of Chanel. Also, the style might

Kevin Lyons

be different. I might make Monsters for both but they might be done sketchy and crazy for one brand, and super tight and clean for another. It just depends …

I was wondering if you’re still amazed by the fact that your Monsters have this universal appeal?

ing a lot. Social media can make a designer big very quickly. So the age of “paying your dues” is basically over. I work with and hire a lot of kids who sort of demand success right away, which becomes problematic when everyone only wants to do the big stuff.

KL — The Monsters do blow me away. They have given me almost a second career, a second life. They have a life all their own and they have created a very different and new audience for me. I have younger fans, more design-interested fans. My audience for so long was so insider and really close to my peer group. But the Monsters have allowed me to bridge into a bigger world and the people who follow me now are super into them as characters and visuals. It allows me the opportunity to be a little more free to have fun and be more myself … Being a visual artist, it is still all very fascinating to me. I have seen a lot of kids come and go. Some have gotten huge and others have fizzled. Still others have settled in. The world is chang-

And as a last one: are your kids actually into what you’re doing or do they favour a completely different visual language? KL — I have two daughters, True and Lulu, and yes, they do now wear a lot of my designs and graphics. And I love that. And they do, too. But they also go nuts for a lot of my friend’s characters as well … Buff Monster, and James Jarvis, and Kid Robot, and all of this Japanese stuff. My oldest just likes that I worked with adidas and Vans and Stüssy so she can get flow. You know, dads are never cool enough for their kids no matter how much we do, but I think they are proud and like to rock my stuff.

words: Forty

Kevin Lyons

Amy Gunther

Ask the founder of Brooklyn’s KCDC shop, former model and WeActivist Amy Gunther about the most fun part of her job and she’ll say: “Setting up boards.” Keeping it pretty core and community-based, the doyenne of the NYC skate world has been busier than ever with KCDC in recent years – by now part shop, part gallery, part skate spot, plus community hub – so we were especially happy to hear her take on the streetwear phenomenon and the various codes of the ever-changing streets …

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All Black Everything

Image — Chris Shonting

Amy, first of all, how’s life in NYC right now? You still based on the LES [Lower East Side]? What are you currently up to? AG — Life is great! NYC is going through so much change that it’s hard to keep up! I live on the LES and even with all the change, including my street becoming a smaller version of Bourbon Street on the weekends, I still love it! Currently, I am working harder than ever at KCDC making sure we are staying true to the Brooklyn community and more importantly the NYC skate community. I’m almost done with school and I’ve taken on some more skate event producing and consulting jobs. You’ve been running KCDC for almost 15 years, and it’s become so much more than just a skate shop: a spot, an art space … What are the main lessons you’ve learned over the years? AG — Hmm, I guess the most important thing I learned is how important it is to do something you love. If I didn’t love what I do, I would have given up a long time ago. It’s become increasingly hard to run a skate shop, especially in the neighbourhood we are in with the rents going nuts. I still get so excited to come to work and am still super motivated to continue to provide art shows, skate events, and anything else I can do for our community. Were there also times when you were struggling with KCDC? How did you cope with that? AG — Not going to lie, it’s always been a struggle. I think most small businesses are to a certain extent. Focusing on the equity building stuff like doing events, learn to skate clinics for the kids, brand collaborations – it helps you get your mind right and provides your customers with fun things to do. If we are struggling, they probably are too so I make sure to do as many free events as possible and work with sponsors to help out to cover costs. It benefits everyone involved. And yeah, I’m a workaholic so I never stop trying to learn how to do things better.

When and how did you first get into skateboarding and streetwear and everything connected to it? Was that through hardcore/punk music? AG — My first real friend group growing up, a lot of them were skaters. Music was a huge part of it, going to shows, parties … like a second family. The clothing aspect was the best. Everyone had sick style! We would wear some crazy shit. It’s funny seeing that early 90s style be all trendy again now. Thinking back to that decade, the 90s, do you feel almost nostalgic about it? AG — Yes – because there were so many good punk shows! I could never go crazy with haircuts or tattoos or anything because I was modelling so I was jealous of the kids at the time. They looked so good! All black everything is still my favourite. The CBGB’s 90s era, for sure. How are your feelings about the different streetwear looks for girls/women? AG — I just like when women look comfortable in their own skin – and therefore in what they are wearing. A woman could look so good in some weird high-water pants and then someone else just looks like a Midwest mom. It’s all about confidence to me. I love seeing that. I remember seeing you in all those WeSC ads etc. a few years back, is that somewhat grownup approach to streetwear something you’d been waiting for at that point? AG — I was drawn to WeSC’s sense of humour about fashion. They loved to work hard and party hard and were making some great clothing too! I loved that they let me be myself as Amy Gunther and not just a model for them. They supported a lot of my creativity at the time and I was able to meet really amazing people that were WeActivists too! You’ve done quite a bit of modelling before … Has your relationship to the importance of outward appearance changed a lot over the years?

Amy Gunther

AG — I never really was super into fashion. I like clothing that makes you feel good inside. I always look for things that make me feel that way more than looking for what’s cool at the moment. I guess it has changed in now I want fewer pieces that are really great instead of having 200 dresses that I wear once.

What’s next for you personally and for KCDC? AG — I feel so good in my life now and watching NYC go through such severe changes really has me on my toes as an entrepreneur. I see all sorts of opportunity here and other places. I am in a growth time of my life and so is KCDC – so that works out nicely. Big things coming, promise.

words: Renko Heuer

Misha Hollen– bach What is not to love? In a culture often marred by “same old, slightly dif-

ferent” clichés, multidisciplinary artist Misha Hollenbach is keeping it positively (sur)real, not to mention decent and lax. With a euphoric slap of creative wit, his

work blurs the lines of collage, assemblage, sculptural installation, screenprinting, graffiti, design, streetwear, music, and beyond. He is perhaps better known as one half of Melbourne-based cult label P.A.M.. More than a clothing label, P.A.M. is the shared life and artful endeavours of Misha (Perks) and his wife Shauna T (Mini). Where life, art, and P.A.M. mingle in a kaleidoscope of alternate realities and paths, contemporary tribes, lost

wake

cultures, primitivism, automatism, DIY, glimpses of pop, and the playfully wicked touch of Dada. It

is little wonder that P.A.M. is bending our perceptions. Much like Misha’s art practice, P.A.M. is not contrived, simply active in the here and now. And the energy is infectious. Somewhere leftof-centre, in the midst of welcoming

and make

a new edition to the family, we asked Misha how it all works. perksandmini.com pambook.com

Misha Hollenbach

Misha, besides being one half of P.A.M., you are a multidisciplinary artist in your own right, a publisher, a DJ, a keen cyclist, not to mention a husband and a father (now of two!), and possibly a whole lot more that I’m not even aware of … What do these different roles allow or satisfy? And how do they inform your creative practice? MH — I’m plainly living life. Everyday is a new day, and really all I want is to have an experience. I never think in terms of epic, but I definitely need action. I love being moved. This can happen when making an ink blot painting, or a nocturnal cycle, or cross country hike, picking chestnuts to make into a soup, whatever it is. I love having an action-based life. Waking and making (and especially if I bake : )) is just what happens. The experience/action is the practice. I try not to plan too much, and it’s a reaction to situations that I enjoy. This makes me feel alive and engaged. What does your fine art practice allow that perhaps can‘t be achieved in the P.A.M. format? And are they two separate beasts or a blur? MH — I’m seeing both blur. But my art is way more personal. It’s me experimenting, not with fashion or culture, or with an audience, or my partner Shauna, it really is a journey of self. A lot of it I need to share, actually. Whatever P.A.M. does releases right away to an audience; it is more of a dialogue/communication with others. My personal art is a dialogue between me and the medium. This personal practice is less immediate and more insular. Let’s talk Misha Hollenbach the artist. You’ve done a residency with Shauna at the Weltkulturen Museum, exhibited worldwide, and are part of the art/music collective The Changes … In your work there are casual references to Dada, Surrealism, Pop Art, DIY aesthetic, ethnography, found images and objects, collage, assemblage, not to mention automatism, happy accidents, porn, bodily functions, plants, primitive mark making, and the delightfully absurd … Can you walk us through some of your basic art making ideas, ideals, philosophies, and approaches? 80

MH — I chase the experience. Graffiti for me is a pure form, actually. Sometimes art, sometimes not. Jumping the fence, or feeling clay with your bare hands, or slapping a bunch of paint-laden sausages about are all a real-life, immediate action. To be honest, the thinking happens during the action. Things, especially in my art practice, are not planned. I love and enjoy spontaneity. Sometimes I have a deadline, this is also good, external parameters to deal with are exciting. I feel my art practice is a direct response to my environment. My environment doesn’t include politics, or existential ideas, etc. It’s not an intellectual or research based practice. It’s plainly a direct response, and often a celebration.

Do you apply these ideas to P.A.M.? MH — Of course. P.A.M. has grown somewhat into a brand/business: it is Shauna and my main livelihood. We often liken it to any other family run business. We still haven’t done a business plan or have a goal and have never once looked at even doing a projection. P.A.M. makes clothes seasonally, so this is a parameter we deal with. We want to make things that are part of a time, of a state of mind. If that’s relevant to people and they share similar views – perfect! Can you put into words the magic and joy of P.A.M.? MH — You just did! The Magic and Joy. P.A.M. has these ideals at its heart. And we want to share these terms. Whatever we reference or promote, or turn into a graphic, or an Instagram post, we see joy or magic in, and want to elevate or perpetuate. P.A.M. is a natural extension of your diverse creative life. You talk about clothes and art as being souvenirs of experiences … Do you think that is why P.A.M. works? MH — Because it is deeply rooted in the creative culture and tribes of our times, rather than a calculated marketing concept or merely following trends … We are sharing ideas not

Misha Hollenbach

products per se. We make products because they are a vehicle for ideas. A T-shirt, for example, is a wonderful way to share a graphic. Sure the customer has to buy it, but then they have it. They wear it. It talks to them, and it talks to others. It is a powerful tool for communication. We hope P.A.M. adds to the language.

P.A.M. has a strong visual aesthetic – the accompanying artwork and videos, the graphic presence, the all-over print, the Dada cut and paste aesthetic and sensibilities, pop humour, and the spirit of rave. Can you tell us about this aesthetic? MH — Like I said, we move, and we move quickly. I like an honest direct response. I like experimentation. I like being direct and carefree. I love: “Fuck we need to design the T-shirt collection TODAY otherwise we miss the Paris showroom!” And the response would be a bunch of graphics. I like this in the same way as dealing with traffic on a bike with no brakes. You have to work/think quickly and rely so much on what is there and then. I just hope we can respond like this forever. And the imagery and narratives that work their way into each collection, what do they capture or communicate? They are whatever we are literally into at that moment. We are not market or trend driven, nor see opportunity in anything. Whatever happens and we like we respond to/get involved with. 82

Ideas like energy, utopia, romance, aliens, psychedelics, mystery, primitive, lost cultures and tribes, tech, si-fi, humour, mutation, and pop, among others, come to mind … These are very promising and exciting themes. What else is there? MH — Politics. News. Fashion. Religion. War. Money. Issues. There are lots of things we don’t get involved with. Those things are way better left alone and not even considered. They are not in our world. And not saying that we are ignorant or uncompassionate, or dropping out. We actually care and try to understand some of these issues, but our position is different. We are interested in Utopia, not the things that are wrong with the world. Can you talk about pop culture (and/or contemporary tribes) influences, highs, and reference points? MH — POP is hard one for me actually. I’m interested in the NOW culture, but only if it is interesting. POP as a concept meaning “popular” culture for me right now isn’t too exciting. Social media and celebrity seem to be popular. The Tumblr “post Internet” aesthetic is what it is. Pop culture from the 60s and 70s and even the 80s with Fiorucci and Keith Haring, and the like aren’t relevant as a concept for now, they are of a time. I’m not interested in nostalgia. I suppose a lot of influence I have is from feelings from then, not graphic or visual, or music references. I am becoming more conscious of NOT referencing these things, amazing as they might be. I don’t

Misha Hollenbach

like going to 80s fancy dress parties. If we look at the active lifestyle, something aligned with running or cycling, and how this has merged with street culture, this is one facet I am completely interested in and partaking in. Looking like something isn’t enough, getting involved and physically participating is more real for me. Virtually engaging, isn’t quite the same.

P.A.M. exists somewhere beyond labels and definitions. However, P.A.M. staples like the jersey dress, T-shirts, shirts, sweaters, sweatpants, leggings, college jackets, and print heavy aesthetic keep the brand street level. What does streetwear mean to P.A.M.? MH — It’s the clothes I have worn since I first saw “Beat Street” or breakdance as a teenager. These are the clothes that allow you to look fresh and be comfortable, one cannot happen without the other. I do have an active lifestyle and I’m not prepared to carry around changes of clothes to suit different situations.

MH — Those elements are crucial to the garment. We are not really concerned with fashion. And not concerned with the “design” of the garment as elevating to a so-called art piece. The feelings associated are far more important when considering the art of fashion, not the seam line. Form is important, but really wearability. Would I wear it? Who can I see wearing it? These are the challenges.

P.A.M. really plays with the construction of garments. What are important considerations in the design process – form, function, experimentation, aesthetic, and wearability?

Can you talk about ethics and practices, for example to do with manufacturing? MH — We are very small company. There’s like four of us in the office. Most things we make are of completely limited numbers. This makes the manufacturing process difficult. We make in China for example, but wouldn’t and def. cannot, with the traditional Chinese garment factory. We find small people with small teams. This has its definite challenges (a cost thing that people need to understand). We definitely do not over produce to cut costs. We would rather make 50 of something and sell them and not have waste, rather than make 500 to get a better price and then dispose of the surplus, a common practice. We visit the factories we work with regularly, and actually are working 84

Misha Hollenbach

with a new generation of manufacturers, young people that actually understand the product.

And marketing? MH — Don’t have a marketing budget. Any marketing that happens is generally a response from others. We don’t seed our product into the market, but we do hook people up if they request. Recent shoots with Hodgy Beats etc. happen because they contact us. We like this exchange. Are there any brand no-nos? And have you ever crossed that line? MH — Often we say no. The line is in the sand. Can you talk about the art of collaboration? What are the possibilities? MH — The experience. Everyone we have contributed with has either started out as, or has become a friend. It’s a way to spend time with someone. It’s not a business move or opportunity to make a toy with Mike Kelley. We love Mike Kelley and we like toys. We met Mike and asked. He said yes. It’s that easy. The possibilities are wild. With the Undercover Jonio Takashi X P.A.M. lamp, we were in Tokyo, at Jun’s studio, we discussed the possibility doing something together. The next day we had a proto made. Most collabs have been a natural, organic, human-to-human process. This is what it’s actually all about. If you had the opportunity to collaborate with anyone you like, who would it be? MH — And what might you produce? My next project is to build a house and a matching human-sized kiln. I need a concreter to collaborate with! Is it true that P.A.M. has a bigger following overseas than at home in Australia? What would you put that down to? MH — Not sure. We look at the world as a bunch of humans. Not the regions where they are from. There are good ones everywhere. 86

There is a cosmic consciousness. There are more people outside of Australia in general. Can you talk about the evolution of streetwear in Australia? And where does P.A.M. fit into this? MH — I’m not sure what the evolution of streetwear means. It does seem more and more people are wearing sneakers (it used to be shoes). It makes sense that the rest of people’s wardrobes follow suit. We would like that P.A.M. is a relevant, special, conscious, independent choice for parts of people’s wardrobes. Our Duplo pants are a perfect trackpant. Try them. It’s difficult not to wear them once you have.

P.A.M. is now in the TATE Modern archives, what are your next moves and future visions? Some family time? MH — The same. Life is an ongoing experience. Until you die. We want to keep looking, searching, experimenting, jumping fences, celebrating. This happens in family time, in intrepid travel/activity time, in art time, in quiet time etc. Every day brings a new day. We just have to respond, and see/find the beauty and wonder in any given day. And lastly … I love the stories of love found in the liberating funk of a “shitty” tag and P.A.M. taking life from a sprayed acronym on a handball court. Is it true, or just an urban myth, that the first P.A.M. collection was basically a collection of fun things to wear and take on your honeymoon rather than a fully considered debut? MH — Yes. Shauna and I did graffiti together that said PAM because the wall we wanted to paint didn’t have enough room to paint a PERKS and a MINI. We also kissed etc. and then decided to go overseas for a honeymoon of sorts. We did some things, as well as more graffiti, and when people saw them they liked them. It’s simple human experience and communication. We need to make and share more with others. Not comment or plainly like. It’s easy! words: Amber Grünhäuser

Will

Meeting Will Sweeney means meeting Helmut the Hot Dog Man, the evil kebab twins and all the other anthropomorphic vegetables from his comic series “Tales From Green Fuzz”, whose long-awaited fourth chapter has been released just recently. But the London-based artist doesn’t limit his creative output to comics, drawings and illustrations, in fact his fantastic sci-fi universe, with its psychedelic Hieronymus Bosch attitude, sprawls through all the artistic disciplines, from animated videos, through to vinyl toys, to clothing graphics. Since his first T-shirt designs for the legendary British street fashion label Silas & Maria back in 2001, Sweeney worked with renowned brands such as Stüssy, Altamont and Undercover and founded his own label/artistic platform Alakzam, and thus brought his predilection for streetwear and skateboard culture to the next level. Despite short nights and lots of work, Will Sweeney found the time to do a short Q&A for Bright Diaries.

Sweeney wham! bam! alakazam! alakazamlabel.com

Will Sweeney

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Will, were you one of these kids that almost religiously followed certain brands when you were younger? I can imagine that things started way before you got involved with Silas & Maria back then, right? WS — I sort of fell into it by accident … I was interested in brands like Stüssy when I was growing up, I never skated but I was totally attracted to the culture and music. I loved the Beastie Boys and wore XLarge; I also liked weird UK labels like Anarchic Adjustment when I was a kid from visiting SS20 in Oxford, which was the local skate shop. Then I met Ben Sansbury, who was one of the main art directors at Silas when I was at The Royal College of Art. I pestered him into letting me do a T-shirt for Silas, as I loved Holmes – the label that turned into Silas. Later, I also met Russell, who ran the company along with Sofia and we got on really well, sharing a love for garage rock and psyche music; he also really liked my work and came up with some creative ideas of how to use it for the brand, which had started to do really well. In the past you’ve delivered the goods for brands like Stüssy, Altamont and Undercover. What does it mean for you as an artist to design a product for a company? WS — How free do you feel in this work and how inspiring can it be to do these kinds of cooperations? I’ve been lucky enough to work with labels that I really love. Usually, the art directors of these labels are like-minded people so there isn’t any creative friction. Each label has its own vibe and identity and I find this inspiring – for example I love the African/tribal graphics that Stüssy have often tapped into in the past, this is often a touchstone when I’ve worked with them. With Alakazam – the company you started with your wife Ayako Terashima – you present your work as an artist, illustrator and designer. Do you understand Alakazam as an actual label or is it more an artistic platform for you? WS — It is definitely an artistic platform. When we started we were locked into produc-

ing two collections of T-shirts and other items a year, but this was a lot of work and distracted me from other projects – like working on comics and exhibitions – so I decided that it was better to only occasionally make tees and focus more on prints and books.

Do you think that art and streetwear still influence each other as positively as back then, when you started to work for Silas? WS — There’s probably more of a link between the two … Silas was one of the only labels at the time to use a certain type of illustration and art direction, now loads of brands have picked up on the power of that and use artist collaborations to sell products a lot more. I think Silas was pretty unparalleled and way ahead of its time, due to Russell’s and Sofia’s vision and DIY approach. I find that the “artist collab” concept can be pretty diluted these days, as many brands think its enough simply to stick an artwork on a piece of clothing rather than actually collaborate and create something new and interesting for both the artist and the label. words: Lisa Schmidt

Will Sweeney

ALYASHA OWERKAMOORE

It’s basically impossible to write something objective on Alyasha Owerka-Moore once you’ve hung out with him and got to know him better. It has nothing to do with lazy journalism or the lack of a circular skill set. You just don’t want to. So instead of praising his accomplished design work, talking about his career that spans far more than two decades by now, pointing out his pioneering role in the streetwear game, dealing with his unconditional love for skateboarding and music, listing the (industry) people he majorly inspired, marveling at his crazy knowledge about American pop culture or chronicling the many brands he laid his hands on, what about putting it like this instead: I hardly know any creative cat as upright and outspoken that strangely enough still isn’t on everybody’s radar. Oh, you call that a weird lil’ laudation instead of an actual intro? Well, guess what: that’s perfectly fine with me.

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underrated excellence Images — Tim Hardy

Alyasha Owerka-Moore

Aly, let’s start with the present if you don’t mind? Recently you seem to be pretty well connected to PF Flyers … what’s your role exactly? And as far as I know, New Balance is involved with the company these days, so I was wondering if that implies a change of direction for PF Flyers? AOM — PF Flyers has such a rich history and I’d been collecting vintage PF ads, signage and shoes for quite some time. My official title at PF Flyers is “Brand Historian”. This entails researching the brand’s history, and its contemporary pop cultural relevance. I also do some product seeding to folks who genuinely appreciate and advocate the brand as opposed to the

usual sending product to high profile celebrities. It’s more like creating and connecting an organic community of PF enthusiasts. Regarding New Balance, their position is solely the parent company. PF Flyers acts as its own sovereign company and entity.

Please tell me a bit about your new pet project North Manual Vocational … that’s a pretty cryptic name, by the way! What is it all about? AOM — North Manual Vocational is the name of the High School in the 1954 cult classic film “Blackboard Jungle”. I chose this name for several reasons: a) “Blackboard Jungle” is the very first movie to have a rock ’n’ roll theme song. b) It takes place in Brooklyn in the 50s. c) It’s also the film that spawned the whole “Delinquent Film” genre of the 1950s. That being said, North Manual Vocational will be making 1950s reproduction and inspired menswear and workwear – a considerably different feel than the 1930s Dust Bowl workwear that is in trend at present. Basically, what a street kid from Brooklyn would wear on the daily. It’s been ages since we last spoke … and at that time I had the impression that you were fairly disillusioned with the whole business, to say the least. I’m super happy that you seem to have rediscovered your passion … does it feel like you’re on the right path now, so to speak? AOM — Absolutely. I really had to completely remove myself from streetwear as a whole. I’m 44 years old and feel that because I find no genuine interest in what it has become … I would be doing a disservice to it and myself if I continued working in that market. Lots of soul searching and silence. Then, I ended up work-

ing with the people at PF, and it really helped me put my career and life in a positive and much refreshed perspective.

Do you think that art and streetwear still influence each other as positively as back then when you started? AOM — I’m sure they do somewhere.

In the past you did so many fantastic CI’s and designs, regardless if it was for other clients or your own brands like Fiberops or Alphanumeric … one of the most significant aspects of your work for me, personally, was that you always tried to communicate pop cultural values and your own personality through your work. Plus, you’re one of the most upright and outspoken people I’ve had the pleasure to meet. Do you think that in return that it also made you a lot more vulnerable as you had to swim with the sharks quite a lot? AOM — Thank you for the kind words. I really appreciate that. I think any brand is a platform to communicate. I’ve been a Paul Smith fan for years and he’s probably my biggest influence regarding brand communicating with the consumer. His message of course is FUN! For me, I’ve always tried to connect the dots and send a message of self-education. Many won’t or don’t get it and that’s all right …

as long as a handful of people notice and connect, I‘m fine with that. As for the sharks and being vulnerable … well, it takes great strength to show vulnerability. Fuck the sharks!

In some ways, the majority of people tend to just love to make the same mistakes at least twice. I was wondering if there are any things/ decisions you would just love to have avoided back then? AOM — Ha ha ha ha! Unfortunately far too many to list completely. However, I‘ll say that I spent far too much time looking out for “friends” instead of myself. Spent more time on creating product and brands instead of capital. And sadly, being a little cocky at times. What kind of brands did you dig when you were younger? AOM — Hmmm … I followed Stüssy, Paul Smith and Ralph Lauren religiously. I’d say that the first T-shirt that really impacted me was probably a Misfits shirt that Pusshead drew. I think after that it was a Stüssy shirt. His handwriting alone inspired me to think that I could do something on my own. In the mid-90s, things kinda exploded and a lot of money suddenly was made in the skateboarding and streetwear business. Coming from a DIY and punk rock background, how did you personally experience this development?

Alyasha Owerka-Moore

AOM — It was happening all around. It’s pretty remarkable to think that this explosion happened pre-Internet.

Would you say that one of the major differences between a lot of the brands back then (including your own) and basically every new brand today is that back then an alternative or maybe even a solution was offered, while today it is clearly about money and getting your wannabe deserved fifteen minutes of fame? AOM — I’m assuming you are talking about “streetwear”. If so, back then “streetwear” did not look like one big amorphous ball. There were mod brands, rock ’n’ roll brands, hip-hop brands, jazz brands, graffitti brands. The term in my eyes basically just meant “Youthful Cottage Industry”: a bunch of kids that were tired of the status quo and wanted to do their own thing. Today, 99.9% of brands make the same products and, to be frank, unless they were branded, you would not know which brand was which. Back then people took pride in their brand’s individual feel, handwriting and look. You’re in the business for such a long time … have you experienced that things are a lot different between the US, Europe and Asia in terms of brand acceptance? AOM — Good question! I honestly think that the Asian and European customer is much more cerebral and has a higher taste level for the most part. They get the nuances of the design as opposed to just being enamoured with a brand because it’s in trend or popular. Not to say that this kind of customer/consumer doesn‘t exist in the States, just more few and far between. As someone rooted in DIY aesthetics (and ethics), how do you see the latest mega-deals between certain companies and certain superstars … is it just the next logical step in the pop cultural evolution, or is it completely ridiculous? Having asked that: Chuck Mosley or Kanye West? 94

AOM — I have no idea who Chuck Mosely is and could not care less about Kanye. Streetwear is not really on my radar anymore with the exception of close friends’ brands, but I think these “mega-deals” are just a natural evolution and very telling of where the market and consumer for that product are right now: sensationalized and oversaturated!

Speaking of collaborations … how do you experience these yourself? How free do you feel in this work and how inspiring can it be to do these kinds of cooperations? AOM — If I collaborate with someone it‘s usually a close friend or like-minded person. I find the best collaborations come from people that are on the same page and are not forced. Are you still such a big music aficionado as you were when we first met? And if so, how does it inform your recent work? AOM — I would not call myself an aficionado, but I love music and it is one of my biggest design influences. Always has been and always will be. I not only love music itself, but enjoy researching the artists, genres and times that whatever music was created. That research plays a great part in my design process. What are the cards holding for the rest of the year for Mr. Owerka-Moore? AOM — Keep working with PF flyers, as it’s perhaps one of the most fulfilling jobs I‘ve worked on and one of the best crews of people I’ve been fortunate enough to work with. I’m opening a barber shop in San Diego with my friend Arsalun called “The Dover Honing Co”. I’m also working on a skateboard company with Jason Adams called “Thee Teen-Aged”. SUUUPER FUN! Besides that: meet a rad woman or get my old one back, get married, have kids, be a great husband and father, and live happily ever after.

words: Forty

SOPHIA CHANG

Regardless of all the struggles and sudden drops and rethinking some companies have to face these days, there is no denial that streetwear is an ever-evolving and ultra-prominent part in the global apparel biz. And while a lot of things certainly have changed during the last thirty years or so, the crucial fact remains that streetwear still is predominantly a boys club. Luckily, this seems to be changing slightly of late, as leading ladies such as Linda Nguyen, Jayne Min or Kei Henderson are claiming their well-deserved place in the spotlight in the fields of design and marketing. And make no mistake: Sophia Chang, most definitely, is also one of the creative cats who is here to stay. The star of the NYC-based illustrator, curator and designer is a rapidly rising one, with a heavily diverse and steadily increasing list of clients such as Staple, Anthony Bourdain, Undefeated, Complex or Puma – for which she collaborated on a whole collection last year. It’s safe to say though that she feels most at home in the fields of streetwear … somehow it feels just like a questions of time before she actually comes up with her very own brand. Bright Diaries stole a bit of her time for an intercontinental chit-chat in mid May.

boundaries esymai.com

Sophia Chang

Sophia, would you say that your early career was basically a matter of “we reap what we sow” … you know, as long as you’re being patient and polite and yourself – and obviously talented – people will come to you through word of mouth? Or did you have to advertise yourself quite a lot? SC — I would say my early career was a bit of all of the above. I am a big believer of being humble and paying your dues whether you’re talented or not. I spent a lot of time searching and creating opportunities for myself rather than waiting around for them to come. What’s most important was I did not stay static or idle and stayed working every moment I had. Soon enough I started to get recognition and traction for my work. Streetwear and fashion still are branches that are heavily dominated by men … I was wondering if you had to overcome a lot of obstacles when you started to work in these fields? And did you recognize any significant changes since then? SC — I wouldn’t say I encountered any obstacles. In ways it has helped my career. As a student I did intern/study with a lot of important players in the streetwear/art industry. Many of them did happen to be male but they were all respectful and caring and happily took me under their wings and offered me the guidance any young creative might’ve needed. As I started to break out into the spotlight there are definitely always waves of comments from the general audience pin-pointing my gender. However, I am confident that my work speaks for itself from design, fashion to illustration. And there is no clear gender labelled on that. Now that’s powerful to me. As an illustrator, was it always your main goal to end up working in fashion in the first place? SC — I’ve always wanted to dive into the world of fashion. I always had a huge passion for art, music, sneakers, street culture. I just didn’t know my interests would manifest itself in my career in the way it has today. I haven’t 96

personally seen anyone wearing my gear just yet, but I have been on a shoot when a stylist randomly pulled an Undefeated graphic I had worked on. Another time a mentor of mine texted me a pair of my kicks on someone’s feet in the subway. Those were all really cool moments but I’ve always been the “on to the next” type of girl. I rarely dwell in my success (maybe that’s a bad thing?) I’m always looking for that next big project and challenge.

In the recent past, you’ve worked with quite a wide range of brands and companies … how important is it to you to have a personal connection to them? SC — I’m not really a “fake it till you make it” type. It’s either I know it, or I don’t. So if I don’t know the people/history behind a gig/culture I always try my best to educate myself. It’s an opportunity to learn and also helpful for me as a creative. I haven’t quite dealt with ethical issues just yet, but I trust that I would stick to my guns and support my beliefs given the situation. What are your favourite brands at the moment … and which ones will enter the spotlight anytime soon, in your opinion? SC — One of my all-time favourite brands is called MadeMe by Erin Magee. It’s a fun side project brand, so it comes out whenever she feels like releasing product. Another fun brand I’ve been sporting is Anti Social Social Club. My friend Neek started it as a fun satirical way of going against the wave of social media and online identities, and yet create a new wave for everyone else to ride. Anything else? SC — I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. You’ll just have to stay tuned via the digital world to stay up to date: @esymai.

words: Forty

Sophia Chang

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