THRWD | Issue 4 by Javier Valadez

ISSUE 4

M A G A Z I N E

Published In Dallas, Texas // All Rights Belong To Their Respective Owners

WWW.THRWD.COM // WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/THRWD // WWW.TWITTER.COM/THRWD_MAG

CONTENTS

QUICK BITS

RICARDO PANIAGUA: TAKING SHAPE

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QUICK BITS

VICTORY IN VICKERY MEADOW

COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS

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13 THE ANARCHIC LIFE OF MICHAEL MCPHEETERS

COLLECTIVE CONSCIOUSNESS

BOOTY FADE

PIECE IN THE MIDDLE EAST: INTERVIEW WITH RUBEN SANCHEZ 11

13 THE ANARCHIC LIFE OF MICHAEL MCPHEETERS

RICARDO PANIAGUA: TAKING SHAPE

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PIECE IN THE MIDDLE EAST: INTERVIEW WITH RUBEN SANCHEZ 11

CONTENTS

VERUM

VERUM 27

BISHOP’S GEM

PIERRE BUGER

ARTIST TO ARTIST

BOOTY FADE

PIERRE BUGER

MISTERY SKULLS

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ARTIST TO ARTIST

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CONTRIBUTORS Creative Director/Co-Founder Javier Valadez Editor-in-Chief/Co-Founder Lee Escobedo Art Director Philip Thepkaysone Assistant Editor Andrew Plock Public Relations Renzo Pancorvo Lead Designer Jesse Estanes Copy Editors Natalie Webster Axel Severs Vidwan Raghavan Contributing Writers Camille Rogers Rodney Blu Emily Aberg Ian Reilly Contributing Photographers Yesi Fortuna Josh Fortuna Taylor Cleveland Andrew Buckley Justin Mosholder

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CONTRIBUTORS Creative Director/Co-Founder Javier Valadez Editor-in-Chief/Co-Founder Lee Escobedo

— Susan Sontag “In this world, there is a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead.” —Tony Kushner, Angels in America, Part Two: Perestroika While avoiding the toxic cognac of nostalgia, we can’t help but look back at our first issue with a vulgar display of sentiment. When it all started, we were just a couple of punks with our foot on the pedal, wanting to bulldoze through the static homogeny of the local media scene. A year later, we sit at the very table we were looking to flip over. Our content is, and always will be the untold stories. But: I’ll be the first one to admit that we never expected to go through a “re-branding” campaign. Nonetheless here we are with Issue 4, unveiling a shiny new logo thanks to endless hours of debate and fisticuffs by our design team. The re-branding of our magazine was an exciting step towards simplifying our message and its delivery. We’ve formatted this issue by section, categorizing our features, opeds and interviews into separate forums, while keeping the umbrella framework that relays our underlying commitment: bringing you, the reader, the personalities and projects that are challenging what Dallas is, and what it could become. For this issue, we returned to Epicurus’s well, kicking dirt in the face of permission and featuring artists, musicians and designers who smirk the same. The recent Available Space show at the Dallas Museum of Art was a huge watershed moment in contemporary art for our city. It was a brain fuck to walk the floor of the museum’s main spaces and view the best young talent this city has to offer, especially Fort Worth’s HOMECOMING! Committee, whose 3d live-in installation, Post Communiqué, might be the foot that kicks through the glass ceiling, shattering expectations of what the city can accomplish as a modern art hub, and alerting our distant East and West Coast friends to our arrival. I was thrilled to see the city come out in support, recognizing the significance of this collection of talent, not under one roof, but under this roof. But it can’t, and won’t, stop there. Exhibit A: the Socialized Contemporary Artists Bureau, or S.C.A.B. This pesky collective of eight intellectuals and art makers are rejuvenating the historic neighborhoods of Exposition Park and the Cedars with their daedal domestic/exhibition spaces. THRWD is adding to the dialogue by providing a printed forum to highlight this thrilling, pivotal time in Dallas culture.

Art Director Philip Thepkaysone Assistant Editor Andrew Plock Public Relations Renzo Pancorvo Lead Designer Jesse Estanes Copy Editors Natalie Webster Axel Severs Vidwan Raghavan Contributing Writers Camille Rogers Rodney Blu Emily Aberg Ian Reilly Contributing Photographers Yesi Fortuna Josh Fortuna Taylor Cleveland Andrew Buckley Justin Mosholder

EDITOR’S LETTER “The truth is always something that is told, not something that is known. If there were no speaking or writing, there would be no truth about anything. There would only be what is.” — Susan Sontag “In this world, there is a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead.” —Tony Kushner, Angels in America, Part Two: Perestroika While avoiding the toxic cognac of nostalgia, we can’t help but look back at our first issue with a vulgar display of sentiment. When it all started, we were just a couple of punks with our foot on the pedal, wanting to bulldoze through the static homogeny of the local media scene. A year later, we sit at the very table we were looking to flip over. Our content is, and always will be the untold stories. But: I’ll be the first one to admit that we never expected to go through a “re-branding” campaign. Nonetheless here we are with Issue 4, unveiling a shiny new logo thanks to endless hours of debate and fisticuffs by our design team. The re-branding of our magazine was an exciting step towards simplifying our message and its delivery. We’ve formatted this issue by section, categorizing our features, opeds and interviews into separate forums, while keeping the umbrella framework that relays our underlying commitment: bringing you, the reader, the personalities and projects that are challenging what Dallas is, and what it could become. For this issue, we returned to Epicurus’s well, kicking dirt in the face of permission and featuring artists, musicians and designers who smirk the same. The recent Available Space show at the Dallas Museum of Art was a huge watershed moment in contemporary art for our city. It was a brain fuck to walk the floor of the museum’s main spaces and view the best young talent this city has to offer, especially Fort Worth’s HOMECOMING! Committee, whose 3d live-in installation, Post Communiqué, might be the foot that kicks through the glass ceiling, shattering expectations of what the city can accomplish as a modern art hub, and alerting our distant East and West Coast friends to our arrival. I was thrilled to see the city come out in support, recognizing the significance of this collection of talent, not under one roof, but under this roof. But it can’t, and won’t, stop there. Exhibit A: the Socialized Contemporary Artists Bureau, or S.C.A.B. This pesky collective of eight intellectuals and art makers are rejuvenating the historic neighborhoods of Exposition Park and the Cedars with their daedal domestic/exhibition spaces. THRWD is adding to the dialogue by providing a printed forum to highlight this thrilling, pivotal time in Dallas culture.

In a way, this issue is our brand new pair of Manolos. And best believe we’re coming out strutting. We want to reflect the growth we’ve experienced in the last year within the pages of this issue. As our co-founder Javier Valadez put it, “we’ve taken out the trash.” Adopting a cleaner layout allows us to deliver our content to you like a glass of Courvoisier: neat and smooth. As we look towards the future, we keep our past in our back pocket, keeping that proverbial fire right where it needs to be. Issue #4 is for Dallas. For freedom of the press. And for doing it your damn self.

Forever THRWD, Lee Escobedo Co-Founder/ Editor-In-Chief

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THE THIRST IS REAL

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THE THIRST IS REAL

By Ian Reilly Photo by Philip Thepkaysone

Drink Recipe 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

1.5 oz Famous Grouse Blended Scotch .5 oz Lillet Blanc .75 oz lemon juice .5 oz mustard-grapefruit syrup one barspoon Highland Park 12 Year 3 blackberries

By Ian Reilly Photo by Philip Thepkaysone

The Highland Swizzle

America’s relationship with the tiki cocktail has always been rocky. Today, you can call it modish and edgy, conventional and garish, satirical and nostalgic. This polarizing style came from associations of gaudy tropical decor and kitchy Polynesian music over the past half-century, but at its core, has has us trapped in a liquid love-affair. The most recent iteration of tikiphilia took root with the early hipsters of the 1990’s, who presumably just needed the pretense of having a go at the exuberance of South Pacific, and Frankie and Annette in order to hang up their flannels and forget irony for a night. However, the embers of a broader renaissance were fanned when this brief trend came into contact with the decadence of a modern craft-cocktail movement. With the help of enthusiasts and mixologists like Jeff “Beachbum” Berry, tiki history was slowly excavated and shared with a new generation of tipplers.

The tiki movement has since struggled to regain the central stage it once held in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s, with American bars like the Hukilau, Mai Kai, and Tiki Ti leading the charge. In many cases, ‘struggle’ is all too accurate- the challenge to maintain relevance in a culture where the revival carries more weight than the revived has sunk some gems, like the Lani Kai (may she rest in peace). But with the efforts of these and so many other talented barkeeps, Zombies and El Diablos have once again become relevent. After all, we barmen are at times only coats laid over puddles on the way to something better; and a Planter’s Punch is always, always, something better.

To the growing unofficial encyclopedia of tikidom, I offer my own take on a classic- The Highland Swizzle. This cocktail riffs on the surprising correlation between the more vegetal aged rums, Jamaican or Martinique for example, and the mossy peat smoke of Scotch whisky. Throw in some ripe blackberries, quina, lemon juice, and a spicy mustard-grapefruit syrup (that’s right, mustard does more than clubs) and you’ve got a big, bold tiki cocktail to remind you of the golden summer days and easygoing beach weather you already miss. Swizzle it up, put on some Beach Blanket Bingo, and shake it out. I won’t tell anybody.

Drink Recipe

Combine blended Scotch, Lillet, lemon, and syrup in Boston shaker and hard shake. Muddle blackberries in the bottom of a wine glass and cover them with crushed ice. Strain cocktail to wine glass over ice and garnish with a grapefruit peel and mint sprig. Top with a barspoon of Highland Park Scotch.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Drink Syrup Recipe 1. Mustard-Grapefruit Syrup (yields 1 L) 2. 750 ml grapefruit, cut in wedges w/ peel 3. 100 ml mustard seeds, rough ground 4. 750 ml cane sugar 5. 750 ml water

1.5 oz Famous Grouse Blended Scotch .5 oz Lillet Blanc .75 oz lemon juice .5 oz mustard-grapefruit syrup one barspoon Highland Park 12 Year 3 blackberries

Drink Syrup Recipe Combine grapefruit wedges and ground mustard seeds in pot with water, then bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and simmer for 15 minutes. Add sugar and simmer for an additional 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cool. Strain solids, bottle and refrigerate.

1. Mustard-Grapefruit Syrup (yields 1 L) 2. 750 ml grapefruit, cut in wedges w/ peel 3. 100 ml mustard seeds, rough ground 4. 750 ml cane sugar 5. 750 ml water

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Combine grapefruit wedges and ground mustard seeds in pot with water, then bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and simmer for 15 minutes. Add sugar and simmer for an additional 5 minutes. Remove from heat and cool. Strain solids, bottle and refrigerate.

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FOUR BEST PLACES TO NOT REALLY GET WORK DONE

By Andrew Plock Photo by Javier Valadez

It’s true. You’re not really at these coffee shops to pen the next novel of our generation. Chances are, you’re taking up space to been seen reading the latest news on Syria. Scratch that. You’re probably reading about Miley Cyrus in an incognito window. Either way, if you want to look good while pretending to be hard at work, you can’t go wrong with these places:

Mudsmith— 2114 Greenville Ave. Big, wide open workspaces make this place perfect to sit with your back against the wall so no one can really tell what you’re doing.

The Pearl Cup—1900 N. Henderson Ave. On a busy afternoon, you may find a table – or a parking spot, for that matter – hard to find. No worries. Just force your way onto the bar and ask to plug your laptop into the nearest strip. Preferably behind the counter in the shop’s personal workspace.

Mudsmith— 2114 Greenville Ave. Big, wide open workspaces make this place perfect to sit with your back against the wall so no one can really tell what you’re doing.

*Pro tip: To ensure that the baristas know you’re working, periodically put your index finger and thumb together and tap your lips while you stare down that cat gif on your screen. Money.

*Pro tip: Repeatedly shove the front pages of your screenplay off a table top until someone asks you about your work. Once you’ve gotten them to finally pay attention to you, fill them in that, after six years, it’s more of a concept than an actual script.

*Pro tip: To ensure that the baristas know you’re working, periodically put your index finger and thumb together and tap your lips while you stare down that cat gif on your screen. Money.

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Black Forest Coffee—5801 E. Northwest Hwy. Hidden inside this massive testament to how people inevitably lose interest in physical books, this coffee shop deals coffee and the like to a typically quiet, working crowd.

*Pro tip: Pick up a couple of choice books on the Crusades from the nearby Religion section and stack them at your workstation. Occasionally crack one open and nod in appreciation.

Espumoso Caffe -- 408 N. Bishpo Ave. For those wanting maximum work exposure, this coffee shop’s outdoor patio holds the highest “Feined-Work-to-Actual-Work” ratio of the bunch because of the trendy area’s visibility rating. Be sure to bring outdated means of technology – i.e. typewriters, collapsible telescopes, abacuses, etc. – to work with as well, thus upping your credibility as a serious person who loves their craft.

*Pro tip: Make that “ching” sound with the typewriter, regardless of whether or not you’ve typed anything over the past hour.

Photo provided by Espumoso Caffe

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*Pro tip: Pick up a couple of choice books on the Crusades from the nearby Religion section and stack them at your workstation. Occasionally crack one open and nod in appreciation.

Photo provided by Espumoso Caffe

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ERADICATING POVERTY ONE BOOT AT A TIME

uy-one-give-one clothing charities have been a great option for the conscious consumer. But it begs the question, even if their mission is wellseeming, how do you know your purchase will put shoes on the right person’s feet. That’s where Roma Boots comes in. The fashionable rain boot company, headquartered in Dallas, goes the extra mile at not only giving poverty the boot, but also providing aid and education to communities around the world. Their boots go where TOMS can’t, by being resistant to rain, mud, snow and mountainous terrain. Founder and CEO, Samuel Bistrian has taken his charity to another level by co-founding a creative venue, Evol Society, giving opportunities to like-minded artists and entrepreneurs to show case their ideas and work. - JV

Find out more at: www.romaboots.com

WHERE THE MUSIC NEVER STOPS

f you happen to stumble down Commerce Street in Deep Ellum anytime soon it’s guaranteed you’ll hear kick-ass blues coming out of The Free Man Cajun Café. The food and music venue serves as the hosting ground for some of Dallas’ most-talented musicians. And don’t worry, the Louisiana-rooted menu is not to be overlooked. Owner and former Libertarian U.S Senate candidate, John Jay Myers, masterminded a music program for the Free Man Cajun Café that features over 15 musical acts every week and its Sunday’s blues jams recreates Dallas’ early-1900’s blues scene. There’s no other place in Dallas where you can get an awesome Cajun wing basket and free, classic American music performed by a mix of local and award-winning musicians. - JV

Find out more at: www.freemandallas.com

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APOPHENIA UNDERGROUND

Intro by Lee Escobedo // Text and images provided by Jeff Ginsberg and Jeff Gibbons

For the month of August, Apophenia Underground, headed by Jeff Ginsberg and Jeff Gibbons of the Deep Ellum Windows project, toured the country, documenting their travels through the many habitats and that make up the fabric of a cracked and chagrined 21st century America. Gibbons and Ginsberg have shared with us their documented travels, through image and text. Surveying the last remaining vestiges of the American frontier, these images remind us how far we’ve come, and how quickly we’ve arrived. Whether that’s a good thing or not is up to the reader. Gibbons and Ginsburg are only here as tour guides, speaking in visual riddles, inviting us to ride shotgun across the great divide.

Text provided by Jeff Gibbons.

A TRANSCRIBED CONVERSATION ORIGINALLY CAPTURED VIA TYPEWRITER ON A CORN HUSK (GAPS IN CONVERSATION DUE TO THE INABILITY TO TYPE AS FAST AS 5 PEOPLE TALK). THE TEXT HERE APPEARS EXACTLY AS IT DOES ON THE HUSK, INCLUDING ERRORS.

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RICARDO PANIAGUA:

ART

RICARDO PANIAGUA:

TAKING SHAPE

By Javier Valadez Photos by Taylor Cleveland

here is a transcendental feeling when you stare at Ricardo Paniagua’s paintings. There’s an equally strong response when you meet Paniagua in-person. Sporting a static arrangement of thick, brown dreadlocks, Paniagua definitely stands out from the rest of the Dallas art scene, not only because of his hair, but because without any professional or educational art training to his name, he’s achieved multiple group (including one at 500X) and solo shows, such as his show, CHAMP!, earlier this year at RE Gallery. After being featured as part of the Texas Biannual Juried Show in 2012, Paniagua’s hard-edge style and hypnotizing paintings have fashioned him a reputation as one of the most unique and original painters in the Dallas art scene.

THRWD: What are your thoughts on far you’ve come in the last year? Paniagua: One of the interesting things with my position as an artist creating at the Continental Gin Building is that I was born right across the rail road at Baylor Hospital. So now that I find myself on this side of the tracks I feel like I’ve made it. I’m supposed to be here, in this complex. It has been a great incubator for other artists. I’ve been in Deep Ellum for six years and I really feel in sync with my life and being creative in this geography. There are all kinds of artistic cities out there and I feel good being here in Dallas. We have a lot of creative and technological companies that make art possible. I’ve had dreams about spiritual revelations in this area. This building being in such proximity with the hospital, you can feel the healing energy from the hospital. If you think about it, there is a lot of creativity going on in there, creative healing. THRWD: Do you believe art has healing powers, that painting provides a sort of spiritual healing? Paniagua: Not sure how art facilitates the human mind or its conditions, but I do think there is some sort of meaning in the context for abstract art. THRWD: Speaking of abstract, how did you make your journey from your beginnings as an abstract painter to focusing more

on geometry? Paniagua: I come from three generations of tile men. I remember being young and helping my dad doing work and laying down tile. My attention at an early age was geared towards a geometrical craftsmanship. I was always looking at lines. In that regard, the line is something that I focus on a lot. In my early 20’s I moved in with a guy who was an abstract artist and learned by experience, instead of by the book. Once I got a commission to do a mural I began to learn some new techniques to help me paint three-dimensional objects on walls. Those ideas started appearing in my studio art and canvases. It was a weird geometric abstraction. THRWD: Your work is bold, sharp and it’s hard to believe it’s painted by hand. Paniagua: It’s hard edge painting. It’s where you have two solid colors next to each other making graphical high contrast. Some of the people that follow my work online tend to ask me what kind of computer program I used to produce them. I don’t even know how to use computer design that well. I’ve always wanted to do something I’ve never seen before. THRWD: What is your opinion of Deep Ellum then and now? Paniagua: When I first came here there were more music shows than art galleries. Now it’s a bit more leveled. And you have

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ART

THRWD: What are your thoughts on far you’ve come in the last on geometry? The Power Station over year? in Exposition Park. There’s definitely a THRWD: What has been your biggest challenge so far as shift in focus for the area towards visual arts. an artist? Paniagua: I come from three generations of tile men. I remember Paniagua: One of the interesting things with my position as being young and helping my dad doing work and laying THRWD: What have been about yourGin lastBuilding Paniagua: Dallas. I’ve been anyour artistpersonal creatingcritiques at the Continental is thatMerging I was out from downthe tile.city Myof attention at an early age was geared towards solo show at RE Gallery?born right across the rail road at Baylor Hospital. here So pushing for almostaseven years now. When I got Ihere, I now that geometrical craftsmanship. was always looking at lines. In automatically of the critical to have I find myself on this side of the tracks I feel like I’ve made it.learned that thatone regard, the line isthings something that I focus on a lot. In my Paniagua: I went over the with thetotitle theinshow, CHAMP! It has on been your side is the endorsement universities and academic I’mtop supposed be of here, this complex. a great early 20’sofI moved in with a guy who was an abstract artist Those were very experimental bodies of work confiI’ve nedbeen with in Deep people. I have a ninth-grade-education I’m totally an of by the book. Once I got a incubator for other artists. Ellum for six years and learned by and experience, instead a specific method that Iand invented. until that point, I started outsider. as an I’ve just had totobe I reallyUp feel in sync with my life and being creativeI literally in this was perceived commission to alien. do a mural I began learn some new techniques looking at paintings as objects. I thought one of the big patient with and people here.toI eventually found out about juriedobjects on walls. Those ideas geography. There that are all kinds of artistic cities out there help me paint three-dimensional gaps in the process of painting wasbeing how here to deal with texture and entered for two or three now. art It’s and canvases. It was a weird I feel good in Dallas. We have a lotshows of creative and in them started appearing in years my studio when it comes to paintings as object. companies I basically froze because of the juried show concept, like the Texas Biennial, that technological that that make art possible. I’ve had dreams geometric abstraction. texture and then painted on it.spiritual I froze that momentinofthis fragility my carrier hasintaken off. If it wasn’t for those, my art wouldn’t about revelations area. This building being with the tin. Some of them I sculpted. got me lot of attention noticed by now. such proximityIt with theahospital, you can feelhave the been healing energy THRWD: Your work is bold, sharp and it’s hard to believe it’s and opened a lot of doors forthe me.hospital. Being a Ifhigh dropout, from youschool think about it, there is a lot of creativity painted by hand. sometimes people don’tgoing think on I’m in worth their time. healing. THRWD: And your source of inspiration? there, creative Paniagua: It’s hard edge painting. It’s where you have two solid THRWD: You’ve taken the same method and transformed it intopowers, Paniagua: It’s not really colors derivednext fromtothis world. I’mmaking a very graphical high contrast. Some THRWD: Do you believe art has healing that painting each other a more refined geometrical relief aright? spiritual person. I happen know thatthat life follow is not my the work ultimate provides sort of spiritual healing? ofto the people online tend to ask me what experience. I mean people think that whenprogram you’re sleeping, kind of computer I used to produce them. I don’t even Paniagua: Yes, making individual pieces you’remind just or getting there a lotcomputer of different Paniagua:geometric Not sure how artand facilitates the human its rest, but know howare to use design that well. I’ve always wanted assembling them together on the wall. is athink pretty intensive experiences I usually dream, wake up and then conditions, but ItI do there is some sort of meaning inhappening. the to do something I’ve never seen before. process. For geometric art, they for areabstract really next realize what I have to do with whatever painting I’m working on context art.level because they have the complexity of supreme Islamic art and Middle at that time. THRWD: What is your opinion of Deep Ellum then and now? Eastern patterns. The diff erence Speaking is that these have form and are THRWD: of abstract, how did you make your journey Paniagua: When I first came here there were more music shows “releasing” themselves from wall. fromthe your beginnings as an abstract painter to focusing more than art galleries. Now it’s a bit more leveled. And you have

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RICARDO PANIAGUA:

ART

TAKING SHAPE By Javier Valadez Photos by Taylor Cleveland

The Power Station over in Exposition Park. There’s definitely a shift in focus for the area towards visual arts.

THRWD: What has been your biggest challenge so far as an artist?

THRWD: What have been your personal critiques about your last solo show at RE Gallery?

Paniagua: Merging out from the city of Dallas. I’ve been here pushing for almost seven years now. When I got here, I automatically learned that one of the critical things to have on your side is the endorsement of universities and academic people. I have a ninth-grade-education and I’m totally an outsider. I literally was perceived as an alien. I’ve just had to be patient with people here. I eventually found out about juried shows and entered in them for two or three years now. It’s because of the juried show concept, like the Texas Biennial, that my carrier has taken off. If it wasn’t for those, my art wouldn’t have been noticed by now.

Paniagua: I went over the top with the title of the show, CHAMP! Those were very experimental bodies of work confined with a specific method that I invented. Up until that point, I started looking at paintings as objects. I thought that one of the big gaps in the process of painting was how to deal with texture when it comes to paintings as object. I basically froze that texture and then painted on it. I froze that moment of fragility with the tin. Some of them I sculpted. It got me a lot of attention and opened a lot of doors for me. Being a high school dropout, sometimes people don’t think I’m worth their time. THRWD: You’ve taken the same method and transformed it into a more refined geometrical relief right? Paniagua: Yes, making individual geometric pieces and assembling them together on the wall. It is a pretty intensive process. For geometric art, they are really next level because they have the complexity of supreme Islamic art and Middle Eastern patterns. The difference is that these have form and are “releasing” themselves from the wall.

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THRWD: And your source of inspiration? Paniagua: It’s not really derived from this world. I’m a very spiritual person. I happen to know that life is not the ultimate experience. I mean people think that when you’re sleeping, you’re just getting rest, but there are a lot of different experiences happening. I usually dream, wake up and then realize what I have to do with whatever painting I’m working on at that time.

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THRWD: Let’s start from the beginning. Obviously your years as a graffiti artists, and skateboarder had a lot of influence in your style then and now. But let’s go a bit deeper, tell me if there is a school of classical art that gave you inspiration? Like the Arabic geometry perhaps? THRWD: Empecemos desde el principio pues. Obviamente tus años como artista callejero de graffiti y aficionado de la patineta tuvieron mucha influencia en tu estilo tanto antes como ahora. Pero vayamos un poco mas profundo y cuentame si hay algún estudio de arte clásica que te haga dado inspiración? Como la geometría Arabe tal vez. Sanchez: Arabic geometry has influenced me in the last few years, but I don’t consider myself very geometric or mathematically precise when it comes to my lines. I tried it but didn’t feel too comfortable with it. I prefer for my strokes to be more humane, more irregular and erroneous. Of course cubism is, and has been the fountain I drink from. Sanchez Algo de la geometría árabe ha influido en mis últimos trabajos, pero no me considero muy geométrico ni muy exacto matemáticamente hablando en mis lineas, lo he intentado pero no me acabo de sentir cómodo con eso. Prefiero que mis trazos sean más humanos, más erróneos e irregulares.

THRWD: Have you had any difficulties in the cultural transition from Spain to United Arab Emirates? THRWD: Has tenido dificultad en la transición de España a los Emiratos Arabes? Sanchez: No, the people of Tashkeel made it very comfortable for me and the welcoming was very nice. The people here are very hospitable. There are certain things here that are annoying at first, but you have to be aware that this is an Arab country and things aren’t like Barcelona, therefore you have to respect it. Sometimes the weather is a bit difficult, but fuck, this is the desert! Sanchez: No, la gente de Tashkeel me lo ha puesto muy cómodo y la bienvenida fue muy agradable. Aquí la gente es muy hospitalaria. Hay cosas de aquí que resultan chocantes al principio, pero tienes que tener en cuenta que es un país árabe y que las cosas no son cómo en Barcelona, por lo tanto hay que respetarlo. A veces el clima sí es un poco difícil, pero coño, si es que esto es el desierto!

ART

PIECE IN THE MIDDLE EAST INTERVIEW WITH RUBEN SANCHEZ

By Javier Valadez // Photos provided by Ruben Sanchez

t’s been our dream since the beginning to import talent nationally and abroad, into the pages of our magazine. We want to share with our readers the artists, movements and trends that are shaping the global art arena. We begin this endeavor this issue with our interview with Spain’s Ruben Sanchez, a muralist who’s partnered with the Tashkeel Artist Program in Dubai to bring graffiti art into the city. Keeping in time with this global transition, we’ve provided this interview in both English and Spanish translations.

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Most of the time I don’t sketch and I simply start to paint something that the spot itself trasmits to me. The space where I paint, its textures and its light, is a very important part of my pieces. Those things end up being part of the piece, as well. For example, when I do things fast through the city, I draw faces everywhere, reminding us who we are, and how we have invaded everything. Or I also paint strange characters visiting this planet. Sanchez: No voy con una misión clara, creo que me doy más cuenta del efecto una vez que ya esta hecho. Me gusta el contraste del color vibrante sobre material viejo, ya sea una pared o maderas encontradas en el desierto. Muchas veces no llevo boceto y simplemente empiezo a pintar algo que el propio spot me transmite. El espacio donde pinto, sus texturas y su luz es una parte importante de mis piezas, ya que acaba formando parte de ellas también. Cuando hago cosas rápidas por la ciudad por ejemplo, voy dibujando caras por todos lados, recordándonos quienes somos, y cómo hemos invadido todo. O pinto también seres extraños de visita en este planeta.

THRWD: Are there occasions where you introduce some political topics in your art? THRWD: Hay ocasiones donde introduces un poco de política en tu arte? Sanchez: I have done it on a few occasions, but generally I don’t involve a lot of political stuff in my pieces. I’m up to date with what’s happening, I like to be informed and I’m very into conspiracies. Not too long ago I made a portrait of my country, Spain, except with a gold squeezer on a big black canvas. It was a week where a lot of bad news about my country came up: corruption scandals, salary and social programs cuts, higher taxes, record unemployment, etc. I came to the studio furious and I painted it with rage. Sanchez: En alguna ocasión lo he hecho, pero en general no involucro mucho a la política en mis piezas. Estoy al día de lo que pasa, me gusta estar informado y soy bastante conspiranoico también. Hace poco hice un retrato de mi país, España, sólo con un squeezer dorado sobre un lienzo grande negro. Fue una semana que llegaron demasiadas malas noticias seguidas de mi país: escándalos de corrupción, recortes en los sueldos y prestaciones sociales, subidas de impuestos, récord en desempleo, etc. Llegué al estudio de muy mala hostia y lo pinte con la rabia.

THRWD: Now that you have been in the Tashkeel Artist ART Program for a good while, what our can you tell me about thebeginning pulse t’s been dream since the to import of the city toward public art and the creative community?

PIECE IN THE MIDDLE EAST

talent nationally and abroad, into the pages of our magazine. We want to share with our readers the THRWD: Ahora que has estado en el programa de artistas de artists, trends that are shaping the THRWD: Tus pinturas y murales son usualmente vibrantes Tashkeel por un buen tiempo, movements que me puedesand decir sobre el global arena. begin this endeavor this issue with y llamativos. Me parece que te gusta traer mucha energía y pulso de la ciudad acerca delart arte publicaWe y sobre la comunidad alegría a los lugares en los que pintas. Que es usualmente lo que creativa? our interview with Spain’s Ruben Sanchez, a muralist tratas de reflejar en tus pinturas o cual es tu misión al pintar? who’s partnered with the Tashkeel Artist Program in Sanchez: I think thatDubai this city against graffi and street toisbring graffi ti tiart into theart city. Keeping in time Sanchez: I don’t go in with a clear mission, I think I realize the because it hasn’t had the opportunity to see how they can with this global transition, we’ve provided this interview effect once it’s all done. I like the contrast of vibrant color and affect the city positively. I see it as a new city that doesn’t By Javier Valadez // Photos provided by Ruben Sanchez in both English and Spanish translations. old materials. Be it a wall or reclaimed wood from the desert. want you to paint their brand new walls. For one part, they

INTERVIEW WITH RUBEN SANCHEZ

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Sanchez: No voy con una misión clara, creo que me doy más cuenta del efecto una vez que ya esta hecho. Me gusta el contraste del color vibrante sobre material viejo, ya sea una pared o maderas encontradas en el desierto. Muchas veces no llevo boceto y simplemente empiezo a pintar algo que el propio spot me transmite. El espacio donde pinto, sus texturas y su luz es una parte importante de mis piezas, ya que acaba formando parte de ellas también. Cuando hago cosas rápidas por la ciudad por ejemplo, voy dibujando caras por todos lados, recordándonos quienes somos, y cómo hemos invadido todo. O pinto también seres extraños de visita en este planeta.

Sanchez: Arabic geometry has influenced me in the last few years, but I don’t consider myself very geometric or mathematically precise when it comes to my lines. I tried it but didn’t feel too comfortable with it. I prefer for my strokes to be more humane, more irregular and erroneous. Of course cubism is, and has been the fountain I drink from. Sanchez Algo de la geometría árabe ha influido en mis últimos trabajos, pero no me considero muy geométrico ni muy exacto matemáticamente hablando en mis lineas, lo he intentado pero no me acabo de sentir cómodo con eso. Prefiero que mis trazos sean más humanos, más erróneos e irregulares.

THRWD: Are there occasions where you introduce some political topics in your art? THRWD: Hay ocasiones donde introduces un poco de política en tu arte?

THRWD: Have you had any difficulties in the cultural transition from Spain to United Arab Emirates?

Sanchez: I have done it on a few occasions, but generally I don’t involve a lot of political stuff in my pieces. I’m up to date with what’s happening, I like to be informed and I’m very into conspiracies. Not too long ago I made a portrait of my country, Spain, except with a gold squeezer on a big black canvas. It was a week where a lot of bad news about my country came up: corruption scandals, salary and social programs cuts, higher taxes, record unemployment, etc. I came to the studio furious and I painted it with rage.

THRWD: Has tenido dificultad en la transición de España a los Emiratos Arabes? Sanchez: No, the people of Tashkeel made it very comfortable for me and the welcoming was very nice. The people here are very hospitable. There are certain things here that are annoying at first, but you have to be aware that this is an Arab country and things aren’t like Barcelona, therefore you have to respect it. Sometimes the weather is a bit difficult, but fuck, this is the desert!

Sanchez: En alguna ocasión lo he hecho, pero en general no involucro mucho a la política en mis piezas. Estoy al día de lo que pasa, me gusta estar informado y soy bastante conspiranoico también. Hace poco hice un retrato de mi país, España, sólo con un squeezer dorado sobre un lienzo grande negro. Fue una semana que llegaron demasiadas malas noticias seguidas de mi país: escándalos de corrupción, recortes en los sueldos y prestaciones sociales, subidas de impuestos, récord en desempleo, etc. Llegué al estudio de muy mala hostia y lo pinte con la rabia.

Sanchez: No, la gente de Tashkeel me lo ha puesto muy cómodo y la bienvenida fue muy agradable. Aquí la gente es muy hospitalaria. Hay cosas de aquí que resultan chocantes al principio, pero tienes que tener en cuenta que es un país árabe y que las cosas no son cómo en Barcelona, por lo tanto hay que respetarlo. A veces el clima sí es un poco difícil, pero coño, si es que esto es el desierto!

PIECE IN THE MIDDLE EAST

INTERVIEW WITH RUBEN SANCHEZ

THRWD: Your paintings and murals are usually vibrant and very loud. It seems that you like to bring a lot of energy and happinness to the places in which you paint. What do you usually try to reflect, what is your mission with your murals? THRWD: Tus pinturas y murales son usualmente vibrantes y llamativos. Me parece que te gusta traer mucha energía y alegría a los lugares en los que pintas. Que es usualmente lo que tratas de reflejar en tus pinturas o cual es tu misión al pintar? Sanchez: I don’t go in with a clear mission, I think I realize the effect once it’s all done. I like the contrast of vibrant color and old materials. Be it a wall or reclaimed wood from the desert.

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THRWD: Now that you have been in the Tashkeel Artist Program for a good while, what can you tell me about the pulse of the city toward public art and the creative community? THRWD: Ahora que has estado en el programa de artistas de Tashkeel por un buen tiempo, que me puedes decir sobre el pulso de la ciudad acerca del arte publica y sobre la comunidad creativa? Sanchez: I think that this city is against graffiti and street art because it hasn’t had the opportunity to see how they can affect the city positively. I see it as a new city that doesn’t want you to paint their brand new walls. For one part, they

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see it as if it makes the city dirty and for another it’s political vindication, which could give Dubai a bad image. There could be a lot of complaints about its poor labor conditions, for example. In my case, thanks to the perseverance to convince the authorities of Tashkeel, I’ve been able to paint a mural in a very crowded zone in Dubai, which seems like a good step for this city and the people see it with good eyes for now. I want to make more things on the streets here, and I would like others to participate as well. Dubai needs life in its streets. Life is not about going home from the office and from the office to the mall. Sanchez: Creo que esta ciudad esta en contra del graffiti y street art porque no ha tenido la oportunidad de ver cómo estos pueden afectar positivamente a la ciudad. Yo lo veo cómo que es una ciudad nueva y no quieren pintadas en sus paredes nuevas y limpias. Creo que lo ven como algo que ensucia por un lado y políticamente reivindicativo por otro, lo cual puede dar mala imagen a Dubai, pues hay mucha gente que puede quejarse por sus condiciones laborales por ejemplo. En mi caso, gracias a la perseverancia de Tashkeel convenciendo a las autoridades, he podido pintar un mural en una zona muy concurrida de Dubai, lo cual supone un gran paso para esta ciudad y parece que la gente lo ve con buenos ojos por ahora. Quiero hacer más cosas en la calle aquí, y me gustaría que otros artistas participen también. Dubai necesita vida en sus calles, la vida no es ir de casa a la oficina y de la oficina al mall.

THRWD: How did you overcome the obstacles to creating your art on the street? THRWD: Cual ha ha sido el mayor obstáculo en realizar estas obras de arte en la calle? Sanchez: It wasn’t as problematic as I had thought, but it wasn’t easy either. I found the spot and I presented the project to Tashkeel, which they supported from the first moment. We first got together with the owner of the building to obtain his approval. Fortunately he liked the idea a lot, so we had the green light for the next (most difficult) step: fighting with the authorities to get a permit that has never been permited. I’ve never asked for permission to paint before in any other place, it was weird to me. Tashkeel maintained a constant communication with the municipality and within a few months we obtained the permit. After a few days I was on a crane painting the “bicicamello” all night long.

Sanchez: No fue tan tan tan problemático como pensaba, pero tampoco fue fácil. Encontré el spot y le planteé el proyecto a Tashkeel, ellos me apoyaron desde el primer momento. Nos reunimos primero con el dueño del edificio para obtener su aprobación. Afortunadamente le gustó mucho la idea, así que teníamos luz verde para el siguiente (y más difícil) paso: pelear con las autoridades para conseguir un permiso nunca antes obtenido. Yo nunca antes había pedido permiso para pintar en ningún lado, se me hacía raro. Tashkeel mantuvo una comunicación constante con municipalidad y al cabo de unos meses obtuvimos el permiso. A los pocos días estaba subido en la grúa pintando durante toda la noche el “bicicamello.”

THRWD: Aside from the murals and the public art in Dubai, what other types of projects have you done? Any workshops with curious kids about the arts and graffiti? THRWD: Aparte de los murales y arte publica en Dubai, que otro tipo de proyectos haz hecho? Algún tipo de “workshops” con niños curiosos por el arte y el graffiti? Sanchez: I mostly do studio work, which I will expose at the end of my residency. I’ve also done murals for cultural events and sometimes I do workshops with kids and adults, where I introduce graffiti and street art to them. Honestly, this has to be learned on the streets, but here they don’t have that opportunity. Many of them have never even heard of graffiti before, so I teach them the history first and then the technique. Then they go crazy with the paint. It’s a bit contradictory to educate people about graffiti in a place like Dubai, but it could be that in the future the city opens up a little bit and these little kids are the artists that represent their city. Who knows? Sanchez: Hago mucho trabajo de estudio principalmente, que lo expondré al final de mi residencia. También he hecho murales para eventos culturales y de vez en cuando hago workshops con niños y con adultos, donde les introduzco al graffiti y arte callejero. Esto en verdad se tiene que aprender en la calle, pero aquí no tienen esa oportunidad. Muchos de ellos nunca han oído hablar de graffiti antes, así que les enseño la historia primero y después la técnica. Después se vuelven locos ellos con la pintura. Es un poco contradictorio educar a la gente sobre graffiti en un sitio como Dubai, pero puede ser que en el futuro la ciudad se abra un poco y estos chicos sean los artistas que representen su ciudad, quien sabe.

THRWD: How excited are you to present your show this November and what do you think will be the result? THRWD: Que tan excitado estas de pronto presentar tu show de galería este Noviembre y cual crees que sea el resultado? Sanchez: As of now I have been calm, now the pressure starts and I want to do everything that I haven’t done before. All those ideas that I’ve been writing on a notepad thinking, “It’s a year, there’s time for everything!” Well the year is ending and there’s still a lot to do. I hope that the exhibit ends up interesting and that transmits everything I’ve learned and experimented with here, to show a change or evolution in my trajectory. Let’s see how people respond. It’s going to be a

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craziness of colors, wood, seesigns it as if that it makes I’ve been thestealing city dirty here and for another gobierno it’ssigue political destruyendo Sanchez: los sueños No fue de tanlatan gente, tan a problemático estando como pensaba, pero and there. It’s going to be vindication, more of awhich dumpcould than a give gallery. Dubai a bad image. en unThere país diferente could quetampoco es conocido fue fácil. por sus Encontré riquezas, el spot la nueva y le planteé el proyecto a be a lot of complaints about its poor labor conditions, arquitectura, fory que se cree Tashkeel, que esellos lo mejor me apoyaron del nuevodesde mundo? el primer momento. Nos Sanchez: Hasta ahora había example. estado In my tranquilo, case, thanks ahora empieza to the perseverance to convince reunimos primero con el dueño del edificio para obtener su un poco la presión y quiero the authorities hacer todo lo of que Tashkeel, no había I’ve been able toSanchez: paint a mural The biggest in a comparasion aprobación. Afortunadamente is that here there’s le work gustó mucho la idea, así hecho antes, todas estas very ideas crowded que hezone ido apuntando in Dubai, which en la seems like anda opportunities. good step for And que in my teníamos countryluz there verde isn’t para shit. elAnother siguiente (y más difícil) paso: libreta pensando “Es un this año,city hayand tiempo the para people todo!”. see Pues it withelgood eyes onefor is now. that Ihere wantthe to people pelear don’t conscream las autoridades nor insultpara like conseguir they un permiso nunca año se acaba ya y me queda make mucho more things por hacer!! on the Espero streets que here, and Ido would in Spain like others or other countries. antes obtenido. Dubai throws Yo nunca money antes likehabía a pedido permiso para la exposición quede interesante, to participate y queas transmita well. Dubai lo que needs he life in itsnew streets. rich Life kid. is There’s not a lot pintar of obstentation, en ningún lado, butsea me lot hacía of thatraro. Tashkeel mantuvo una aprendido o experimentado about aquí, going quehome se pueda fromver theun offi cambio ce and ofrom money the offihas ce to an impact incomunicación the quality ofconstante life, except con that’s municipalidad not y al cabo de unos evolución en mi trayectoria. the mall. A ver qué tal responde la gente. the case with labor (immigrant meses obtuvimos slave/worker). el permiso. In Spain A we’ve los pocos días estaba subido en Va a ser una locura de colores, maderas, señales que he ido been misspending money la grúa for a pintando long timedurante and now toda thelacitizens noche el “bicicamello.” robando de aquí y de allá… Sanchez: va a parecer Creo que másesta un vertedero ciudad esta queen contra are paying del graffi forti ity instead of those who made those decisions. una galería. street art porque no ha tenido la oportunidad Thede money ver cómo always ends up wrongfully dealt in the pockets estos pueden afectar positivamente a la ciudad. of corrupt Yo lopoliticians veo or their fucking family or his fucking cómo que es una ciudad nueva y no quieren political pintadas party. en Spain sus has THRWD: reduced Aside laborfrom salaries the murals and conditions, and the public art in Dubai, paredes nuevas y limpias. Creo que lo ven they comocut algo social que welfare,what they other cut education types of drastically, projects have andyou done? Any workshops ensucia por un lado y políticamente reivindicativo healthcare, por etc. otro,And wewith havecurious huge unemployment, kids about the like artswe’ve and graffiti? lo cual puede dar mala imagen a Dubai, pues never hayseen mucha before. The government has to reduce spending gente que puede quejarse por sus condiciones and pay laborales back debt, por which THRWD: they make Apartetheir de los people murales pay yfor arte while publica en Dubai, que otro ejemplo. En mi caso, gracias a la perseverancia the keep de Tashkeel sucking the dicks tipo of de banks proyectos and haz corporations hecho? Algún that put tipo de “workshops” con convenciendo a las autoridades, he podidous pintar in this uncrisis. muralAt enleastniños we still curiosos have flpor amenco, el artegazpacho, y el graffiti? and una zona muy concurrida de Dubai, lo cualbeautiful supone un women. gran paso para esta ciudad y parece que la gente lo ve con buenos Sanchez: I mostly do studio work, which I will expose at ojos por ahora. Quiero hacer más cosas enSanchez: la calle aquí, La comparación y me themás endgrande of my residency. es que aquíI’ve hay also done murals for cultural THRWD: How do you think gustaría you’ll que end otros up mentally artistasand participen creatively también. trabajo Dubai y oportunidades necesita events y en miand paíssometimes no hay una I do mierda. workshops Otra with kids and adults, after your year in the program vida en is sus over? calles, la vida no es ir de casa comparación a la oficina y es de que la aquí where la gente I introduce no gritagraffi ni insulta ti andcomo street art to them. Honestly, oficina al mall. en España u otros países. this Dubai has to derrocha be learned dinero, on like the astreets, new but here they don’t THRWD: Como crees que terminaras mentalmente y rich kid. Hay mucha ostentación, have thatpero opportunity. mucho de Many este of dinero them have never even heard creativamente después de que tu año en el programa termine? repercute de alguna manera of graffi en ti la before, calidad so deIvida teach delthem ciudadano, the history first and then aunque no en el caso del the labour technique. (trabajador/esclavo Then they go inmigrante). crazy with the paint. It’s a bit Sanchez: Mentally I’ll be more open, because of all the trips, En España hemos estado contradictory malgastandotoridículamente educate people el about graffiti in a place like people and new experiences. They open the mind, and that dinero durante mucho tiempo Dubai, ybut ahora it could lo están be that pagando in thelos future the city opens up a inspires you to do other things too. Creatively I suppose that ciudadanos, en vez de los little que bittomaron and these esas little decisiones. kids are El the artists that represent their I’ll be very active and open to new expierences. I don’t think I’ll dinero siempre acaba mal city. repartido Who knows? en los bolsillos de algún give myself a break or anything like that. I’ll keep thinking how político corrupto y su puta familia o su puto partido. España to evolve my works. You can’t be stuck with only one style or ha reducido una barbaridad Sanchez: los sueldos Hago mucho y las condiciones trabajo de estudio principalmente, que lo one technique because people like it or because it sells well. laborales, recortan las ayudas expondré sociales, al finalrecortan de mi residencia. drásticamente También he hecho murales That’s the death of the artist in my opinion. An artist must en educación, en sanidad, para etceventos y tenemos culturales una tasa y de devez desempleo en cuando hago workshops always search for new frontiers and learn how to overcome nunca vista antes. El gobierno con niños tiene y con que adultos, reducir gastos donde les y introduzco al graffiti y arte them. Learning should be forever, whether you’re an artista or pagar una deuda gigante callejero. cobrándosela Esto enaverdad su pueblo se tiene mientras que aprender en la calle, pero a plumber. le sigue comiendo la polla aquí a los no bancos tienen esa y corporaciones oportunidad. Muchos que de ellos nunca han oído nos metieron en esta crisis. hablar Pordelograffi menos ti antes, seguimos así que teniendo les enseño la historia primero Sanchez: Mentalmente acabaré más abierto, pues todos los flamenco, gazpacho y mujeres y después guapas. la técnica. Después se vuelven locos ellos con la viajes, gente y experiencias nuevas te abren la mente, esto pintura. Es un poco contradictorio educar a la gente sobre también inspira a hacer otras cosas. Creativamente supongo graffiti en un sitio como Dubai, pero puede ser que en el futuro que estaré muy activo y abierto también a nuevas experiencias, la ciudad se abra un poco y estos chicos sean los artistas que no pienso en darme un THRWD: descansoHow ni nada did you parecido, overcome intentaré the obstacles THRWD: to creating Any last your wordsrepresenten you would to susay ciudad, to our quien readers? sabe. seguir pensando en como art“evolucionar” on the street? mis trabajos. No hay que quedarse estancado en un estilo o una técnica sólo porque THRWD: Unas ultimas palabras que te gustaría decirle a toda la a la gente le gusta y lo vendas THRWD:bien. CualEso ha ha es la sido muerte el mayor artística obstáculo gente en realizar que te estas esta leyendo? en mi opinión. Un artistaobras debe de buscar arte en siempre la calle? nuevas fronteras THRWD: How excited are you to present your show this y aprender a sobrepasarlas. Aprender debe ser para siempre, ya Sanchez: If you’re still reading November up until and what here, do I say you thanks! think will Fight be the result? seas artista o fontanero.Sanchez: It wasn’t as problematic as I had thought, to be happy, but itif what you do doesn’t make you happy, change wasn’t easy either. I found the spot and I presented it. Guide the yourself project by your THRWD: instincts, Quenot tan by excitado what society estas de tells pronto presentar tu show de to Tashkeel, which they supported from theyou firsttomoment. do. And don’t letgalería any bank estesteal Noviembre your happiness y cual crees or que sea el resultado? We first got together with the owner of themoney. buildingTry to to obtain create, anything, paintings, music, writing, films, THRWD: What would behis theapproval. biggest comparasion Fortunately he you liked would the idea aphotographs. lot, so we hadCreating feeds Sanchez: the As soul. ofPeace. now I have been calm, now the pressure starts make between coming from the green a country light for where the the nextsituation (most difficult) step: fighting with and I want to do everything that I haven’t done before. All is very hard and the government the authorities is destroying to get a its permit people’s that has never Sanchez: been permited. Sí habéis leídothose hastaideas aquí os that digo I’vegracias! been writing Luchadon por a notepad thinking, “It’s dreams, to being in a diff I’ve erent never country askedthat for permission is known for toits paint before ser felices, in any other si lo que haces a year, no tethere’s hace feliz, timecámbialo. for everything!” Guíate por Well the year is ending riches, new architecture, place, believed it was toweird be thetobest me. of Tashkeel the world? maintained tu instinto, a constant no por lo queand la sociedad there’s still te dice a lotque to do. hagas. I hope Y no that the exhibit ends up communication with the municipality and within dejesaque fewningún months bancointeresting te robe la felicidad and thatnitransmits tu dinero.everything Intenta I’ve learned and THRWD: Cual es la comparación we obtained masthe grande permit. queAfter harías a few days I was crear, onloa que crane sea, pintura, experimented música, escribe, withfihere, lma, fotografía. to show aCrear change or evolution in my entre viniendo de un país painting donde the la situación “bicicamello” es muy alldura nighty long. el alimenta el alma. Peace trajectory. Let’s see how people respond. It’s going to be a

I prefer for my strokes to be more humane, more irregular and erroneous. Of course cubism is, and has been the fountain I drink from.

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I prefer for my strokes to be more humane, more irregular and erroneous. Of course cubism is, and has been the fountain I drink from.

craziness of colors, wood, signs that I’ve been stealing here and there. It’s going to be more of a dump than a gallery. Sanchez: Hasta ahora había estado tranquilo, ahora empieza un poco la presión y quiero hacer todo lo que no había hecho antes, todas estas ideas que he ido apuntando en la libreta pensando “Es un año, hay tiempo para todo!”. Pues el año se acaba ya y me queda mucho por hacer!! Espero que la exposición quede interesante, y que transmita lo que he aprendido o experimentado aquí, que se pueda ver un cambio o evolución en mi trayectoria. A ver qué tal responde la gente. Va a ser una locura de colores, maderas, señales que he ido robando de aquí y de allá… va a parecer más un vertedero que una galería.

I prefer for my strokes to be more humane, more irregular and erroneous. Of course cubism is, and has been the fountain I drink from. THRWD: How do you think you’ll end up mentally and creatively after your year in the program is over? THRWD: Como crees que terminaras mentalmente y creativamente después de que tu año en el programa termine? Sanchez: Mentally I’ll be more open, because of all the trips, people and new experiences. They open the mind, and that inspires you to do other things too. Creatively I suppose that I’ll be very active and open to new expierences. I don’t think I’ll give myself a break or anything like that. I’ll keep thinking how to evolve my works. You can’t be stuck with only one style or one technique because people like it or because it sells well. That’s the death of the artist in my opinion. An artist must always search for new frontiers and learn how to overcome them. Learning should be forever, whether you’re an artista or a plumber. Sanchez: Mentalmente acabaré más abierto, pues todos los viajes, gente y experiencias nuevas te abren la mente, esto también inspira a hacer otras cosas. Creativamente supongo que estaré muy activo y abierto también a nuevas experiencias, no pienso en darme un descanso ni nada parecido, intentaré seguir pensando en como “evolucionar” mis trabajos. No hay que quedarse estancado en un estilo o una técnica sólo porque a la gente le gusta y lo vendas bien. Eso es la muerte artística en mi opinión. Un artista debe buscar siempre nuevas fronteras y aprender a sobrepasarlas. Aprender debe ser para siempre, ya seas artista o fontanero.

THRWD: What would be the biggest comparasion you would make between coming from a country where the situation is very hard and the government is destroying its people’s dreams, to being in a different country that is known for its riches, new architecture, believed to be the best of the world? THRWD: Cual es la comparación mas grande que harías entre viniendo de un país donde la situación es muy dura y el

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gobierno sigue destruyendo los sueños de la gente, a estando en un país diferente que es conocido por sus riquezas, la nueva arquitectura, y que se cree que es lo mejor del nuevo mundo? Sanchez: The biggest comparasion is that here there’s work and opportunities. And in my country there isn’t shit. Another one is that here the people don’t scream nor insult like they do in Spain or other countries. Dubai throws money like a new rich kid. There’s a lot of obstentation, but a lot of that money has an impact in the quality of life, except that’s not the case with labor (immigrant slave/worker). In Spain we’ve been misspending money for a long time and now the citizens are paying for it instead of those who made those decisions. The money always ends up wrongfully dealt in the pockets of corrupt politicians or their fucking family or his fucking political party. Spain has reduced labor salaries and conditions, they cut social welfare, they cut education drastically, and healthcare, etc. And we have huge unemployment, like we’ve never seen before. The government has to reduce spending and pay back debt, which they make their people pay for while the keep sucking the dicks of banks and corporations that put us in this crisis. At least we still have flamenco, gazpacho, and beautiful women. Sanchez: La comparación más grande es que aquí hay trabajo y oportunidades y en mi país no hay una mierda. Otra comparación es que aquí la gente no grita ni insulta como en España u otros países. Dubai derrocha dinero, like a new rich kid. Hay mucha ostentación, pero mucho de este dinero repercute de alguna manera en la calidad de vida del ciudadano, aunque no en el caso del labour (trabajador/esclavo inmigrante). En España hemos estado malgastando ridículamente el dinero durante mucho tiempo y ahora lo están pagando los ciudadanos, en vez de los que tomaron esas decisiones. El dinero siempre acaba mal repartido en los bolsillos de algún político corrupto y su puta familia o su puto partido. España ha reducido una barbaridad los sueldos y las condiciones laborales, recortan las ayudas sociales, recortan drásticamente en educación, en sanidad, etc y tenemos una tasa de desempleo nunca vista antes. El gobierno tiene que reducir gastos y pagar una deuda gigante cobrándosela a su pueblo mientras le sigue comiendo la polla a los bancos y corporaciones que nos metieron en esta crisis. Por lo menos seguimos teniendo flamenco, gazpacho y mujeres guapas.

THRWD: Any last words you would to say to our readers? THRWD: Unas ultimas palabras que te gustaría decirle a toda la gente que te esta leyendo? Sanchez: If you’re still reading up until here, I say thanks! Fight to be happy, if what you do doesn’t make you happy, change it. Guide yourself by your instincts, not by what society tells you to do. And don’t let any bank steal your happiness or money. Try to create, anything, paintings, music, writing, films, photographs. Creating feeds the soul. Peace. Sanchez: Sí habéis leído hasta aquí os digo gracias! Luchad por ser felices, si lo que haces no te hace feliz, cámbialo. Guíate por tu instinto, no por lo que la sociedad te dice que hagas. Y no dejes que ningún banco te robe la felicidad ni tu dinero. Intenta crear, lo que sea, pintura, música, escribe, filma, fotografía. Crear alimenta el alma. Peace

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ART

VICTORY IN VICKERY MEADOW

Written and photographed by Rodney Blu

Never heard of Vickery Meadow, you say? That’s probably because, in frequents in, out and throughout Dallas, you’ve learned to avoid it. Sprouting from the cusp of North Central Expressway and Northwest Highway, branching spore-like from Royal Lane to Abrams Road, the humble three square-miles of 96 apartment buildings, shanty local businesses and some 30,000 residents is considered by some: pristine North Dallas’ inevitable run-off of crime, poverty and immigration. And it’s easy to see why. The roads are neglected and troublesome, the litter and pollution are permanent fixtures and there’s always a pair of cagey pedestrian eyes tracking unfamiliar passersby – the intensity of it all magnified by the proximity of Vickery’s equally-charming neighbors, University Park, Preston Hollow and Lake Highlands. But what many better-off locals consider leprous, Rick Lowe saw as inspiration. Never heard

of Rick Lowe, you say? That’s probably because he doesn’t fit the typical description of an internationally-celebrated, awardwinning visual artist and community activist – hell, he defies it. The soft-spoken, almost mantis-like Alabama native is most notably responsible for Project Row Houses, a 2006 “community sculpture” that took two blocks of a run-down Third Ward neighborhood in Houston, originally built in the 1930’s, and resurrected them as living, breathing monuments to art and community, housing and hosting families, artists, programs and organizations dedicated to fostering growth, inspiration and unity among its tenants and visitors. In celebration of its 10th anniversary, The Nasher Sculpture Center organized the NasherXChange, a $3 million city-wide, public art exhibition that employs the mastery of 10 artists to

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ART

dismounted from the red line north train at 6:52 P.M. The locust had already begun their evening song, and the streets were still buzzing with the trickle of rush hour as the loose gravel of the Park Lane and Greenville Avenue intersection rasped beneath the soles of my topsiders. I humped down the winding road, past an alley that hosts day laborers at the rising of the sun shorts, the taxi vans and squad cars with pale and armsdopefi hanging individually craft and curate provocative creative projects in 10 ends as it sets. The spice of from the driver’s side window, the patterned kufi s and areas throughout the city. Among the roster of international, piss andvibrant mothballs so pronounced that saris, knuckleheads still in their school uniforms and infants, national and local virtuosos is (you guessed it) Rick Lowe, who I shook the imaginary linger from my newborns damn-near and surprisingly calm, nestled tightlyFoot in traffic at its highest slated Vickery Meadow as his canvas and inspiration. In stark work shirt. slings against their young and old mother’s backs, the wide contrast, however, to the physical, commissioned artistry that frequency and the sounds of a thousand spectrum of melatonin and shared tired eyes –native can share the swimming through the the Nasher provides and probably expected, Rick has taken tongues varying aesthetics of culture and unity, down the neglected and a route similar to that of Project Row Houses in bridging the dense summer air, I go out of my way troublesome road where most would last expect the beauty of every body I pass. They far-reaching diversity of a community buried beneath the to acknowledge living, breathing art. reality of low-income and criminal activity, and unearthing pride, avoid eye contact without prejudice entrepreneurialism and cultural exchange in what he and his Um Qutaibah, a 70-something refugee, withand an accent as reason. I’ve learned to with good team of local activists dubbed “Trans.Lation at Vickery Meadow.” strong as her weathered smile, has taken a sort of matriarchal submit to it. The sagging pants and role in the community and among the participators Trans. satin of nightcaps, the flip-flops and The intensity of it all magnified by the proximity of Lation’s weekly workshop. “The economy was horrible,” she the taxi vans and squad booty shorts, says of her native Iraq where she lived and taught carsprimary with a pale arms hanging from Vickery’s equally-charming neighbors, University education up until three years ago. “The government had shut the driver’s side window, the patterned down all businesses and no one, anywhere waskufi making Park, Preston Hollow and Lake Highlands. But what s and money.” vibrant saris, knuckleheads Qutaibah regularly recounts stories from her war-torn homeland, still in their school uniforms and infants, many better-off locals consider leprous equally gruesome and inspiring, as the mostly newborns women and girls damn-near and surprisingly of the Vickery Meadow congregate around thecalm, livingnestled space tightly in slings against “If we allow ourselves to think of neighborhoods as a large dedicated to the workshop. “My brother taughttheir me how to make young and old mother’s backs, the scale sculpture, then tapping into the creativity of a community these,” she said, cradling in her hands an emaciated limb of a of melatonin and shared wide spectrum allows us to transform challenging places to places that speak bush or tree that she has adorned with colorfultired handcrafted riceare my neighbors. This eyes. These to us about the potential of humanity,” Lowe casually said in paper flowers. “These brought so much happiness to the Meadow. families is Vickery a candid conversation about his vision of Vickery Meadow. and children in Iraq. So I taught my students how to make them “Vickery Meadow is not the mid-twentieth century idyllic melting and now I teach the girls here.” She clasps her hands together pot. It is the 21st century tossed salad with many wonderful and tilts her head to one shoulder, the workshops remind her distinct ingredients. Instead of trying to melt them together, of home, she said. In a recent extended market event, Qutaibah we are trying to creatively fiNever nd unifying thatMeadow, honor and heard points of Vickery you say?made That’s probably of Rick you say? That’s probably because he doesn’t fit well over $100, selling herLowe, ornamental flowers and as celebrates the diversity because, of culturalinflfrequents avors.” in, out and throughoutvaluable Dallas, you’ve the typical description of an internationally-celebrated, awardas the entrepreneurial experience is, she insists that learned to avoid Dallas it. Sprouting the cusp of Centralbond is the winning artistreward. and community The Trans.Lation team that includes: Peace from Center theNorth communal most visual satisfying “I love it activist – hell, he defies Expressway Northwest Highway, branching spore-like it. The soft-spoken, almost Saathoff mantis-like Alabama native is most Board Member and Senior Researchand Associate at the University here,” she said,from extending her arm around Cynthia , the Royal toPolicy Abrams Road, the humble three square-miles notably responsible for workshops. Project Row“It’s Houses, a 2006 “community of Texas at Dallas’ Institute forLane Urban Research, Sara instructor and primary facilitator of the weekly of 96 apartment buildings, local and some sculpture” that took blocks of Ialove run-down Third Ward Mokuria, Creator of the Green Bandana Group and shanty art critic andbusinesses not because of the money, but because I cantwo share what 30,000 residents is considered some: pristine Dallas’ in Houston, originally built in the 1930’s, and curator, Darryl Ratcliff and a host of impassioned artistsbyand with North all these wonderfulneighborhood people.” inevitable of crime, it’s resurrected them as open living,market breathing monuments to art and organizers, have, since the effort’srun-off conception, put poverty togetherand a immigration. The fiAnd rst Trans.Lation at Vickery Meadow easy tofrom see potlucks why. The to roads areshows neglected and and families, artists, programs and number of community events talent willtroublesome, be held on Saturday,community, October 19 housing from 1 P.M. tohosting 4 P.M. on litter and pollution permanent and there’s fostering and weekly workshops, the implemented to provideare the residents fixtures Ridgecrest Rd between organizations Park Lane anddedicated Eastridge to Drive. It is a growth, inspiration and always a pair cagey expand pedestrian unity among its tenants of Vickery Meadow an opportunity to of harness, and,eyes tracking free unfamiliar event open to the public of all ages. Vendors interested in – the intensity of it all magnifi the proximity of or products ultimately generate profipassersby t from their individual artistic talents. Alled by and visitors. representing brands are to contact Sara Mokuria at equally-charming Park, Preston of this in preparation forVickery’s festival-style open marketsneighbors, to be heldUniversity In celebration of its 10th anniversary, The Nasher Sculpture TranslationTeamVM@gmail.com. Hollow and Lakewhere Highlands. But what many better-off locals monthly in the heart of the community, its inhabitants – Center organized the NasherXChange, a $3 million city-wide, consider leprous,the Rick Lowe inspiration. Never heard the sagging pants and satin nightcaps, flip-fl opssaw andas booty public art exhibition that employs the mastery of 10 artists to

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ART

VICTORY IN VICKERY MEADOW Written and photographed by Rodney Blu

individually craft and curate provocative creative projects in 10 areas throughout the city. Among the roster of international, national and local virtuosos is (you guessed it) Rick Lowe, who slated Vickery Meadow as his canvas and inspiration. In stark contrast, however, to the physical, commissioned artistry that the Nasher provides and probably expected, Rick has taken a route similar to that of Project Row Houses in bridging the far-reaching diversity of a community buried beneath the reality of low-income and criminal activity, and unearthing pride, entrepreneurialism and cultural exchange in what he and his team of local activists dubbed “Trans.Lation at Vickery Meadow.”

The intensity of it all magnified by the proximity of Vickery’s equally-charming neighbors, University Park, Preston Hollow and Lake Highlands. But what many better-off locals consider leprous “If we allow ourselves to think of neighborhoods as a large scale sculpture, then tapping into the creativity of a community allows us to transform challenging places to places that speak to us about the potential of humanity,” Lowe casually said in a candid conversation about his vision of Vickery Meadow. “Vickery Meadow is not the mid-twentieth century idyllic melting pot. It is the 21st century tossed salad with many wonderful distinct ingredients. Instead of trying to melt them together, we are trying to creatively find unifying points that honor and celebrates the diversity of cultural flavors.” The Trans.Lation team that includes: Dallas Peace Center Board Member and Senior Research Associate at the University of Texas at Dallas’ Institute for Urban Policy Research, Sara Mokuria, Creator of the Green Bandana Group and art critic and curator, Darryl Ratcliff and a host of impassioned artists and organizers, have, since the effort’s conception, put together a number of community events from potlucks to talent shows and weekly workshops, implemented to provide the residents of Vickery Meadow an opportunity to harness, expand and, ultimately generate profit from their individual artistic talents. All of this in preparation for festival-style open markets to be held monthly in the heart of the community, where its inhabitants – the sagging pants and satin nightcaps, the flip-flops and booty

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shorts, the taxi vans and squad cars with pale arms hanging from the driver’s side window, the patterned kufis and vibrant saris, knuckleheads still in their school uniforms and infants, newborns damn-near and surprisingly calm, nestled tightly in slings against their young and old mother’s backs, the wide spectrum of melatonin and shared tired eyes – can share the varying aesthetics of culture and unity, down the neglected and troublesome road where most would last expect the beauty of living, breathing art. Um Qutaibah, a 70-something refugee, with an accent as strong as her weathered smile, has taken a sort of matriarchal role in the community and among the participators of Trans. Lation’s weekly workshop. “The economy was horrible,” she says of her native Iraq where she lived and taught primary education up until three years ago. “The government had shut down all businesses and no one, anywhere was making money.” Qutaibah regularly recounts stories from her war-torn homeland, equally gruesome and inspiring, as the mostly women and girls of the Vickery Meadow congregate around the living space dedicated to the workshop. “My brother taught me how to make these,” she said, cradling in her hands an emaciated limb of a bush or tree that she has adorned with colorful handcrafted rice paper flowers. “These brought so much happiness to the families and children in Iraq. So I taught my students how to make them and now I teach the girls here.” She clasps her hands together and tilts her head to one shoulder, the workshops remind her of home, she said. In a recent extended market event, Qutaibah made well over $100, selling her ornamental flowers and as valuable as the entrepreneurial experience is, she insists that the communal bond is the most satisfying reward. “I love it here,” she said, extending her arm around Cynthia Saathoff, the instructor and primary facilitator of the weekly workshops. “It’s not because of the money, but because I can share what I love with all these wonderful people.” The first Trans.Lation at Vickery Meadow open market will be held on Saturday, October 19 from 1 P.M. to 4 P.M. on Ridgecrest Rd between Park Lane and Eastridge Drive. It is a free event open to the public of all ages. Vendors interested in representing brands or products are to contact Sara Mokuria at TranslationTeamVM@gmail.com.

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CULTURE

OAK CLIFF: THAT’S MY HOOD, AND YOURS.

By Emily Aberg

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ust after the Fourth of July, my boyfriend and I took a walk from our apartment to Bishop Arts, and on the way back we took stock of the two newest construction sites. Information bulletin boards from the city informed they were the future sites for new 38-unit dwellings, which sounded like an awkward fit on a street loaded with duplexes, quads, and other small, historic apartment buildings in varying degrees of renovation and decay. “I really hate this,” Ben said, referring to the brown patches of dirt. “Oh God, I know, right?” I said, a little too loudly. It was an invitation to wax poetic on one of my favorite topics as a white person living in North Oak Cliff: how much I hate white people moving into North Oak Cliff and that any development they bring is sure to ruin everything I like about living here. It’s my favorite type of thoughtless thought. It’s simple, dismissive, glosses over an entire group of people, doesn’t lend itself to productive conversation, and it’s one of Ben’s favorite things to call me out on. Even though he started it, he played devil’s advocate all the way home. I bitched that the only grocery stores within walking distance for us and our neighbors were artisanal-jam-and-$20-free-range-chicken peddlers (Bolsa Mercado, Urban Acres). He pointed out there were probably several fruterias and carnicerias along Jefferson where we could buy our groceries that were closer than the Tom Thumb at Hampton and Twelfth we always drive to. I said I would rather see the kind of small delis and grocery stores like the ones in the Brooklyn neighborhood my sister has lived in for the last seven years. Ben asked if I knew how hard it was to turn a profit selling groceries, and also pointed out I probably wouldn’t be happy with that either “because then you’ll complain that some developer is trying to turn Oak Cliff into the Brooklyn of Dallas.” Something uncomfortable and familiar settled in. It could have been the heat, or my stifling hypocrisy. Where do I get off having such strong opinions about this neighborhood?

In 1986, my family moved from the M streets of Lakewood to Kessler Park in Oak Cliff. It might sound like they were hopping from one posh hipster neighborhood to another, but this was back in the 80’s. Businesses left downtown, and white people moved to places like Richardson and Addison. Back then, Lakewood was cheap, and Oak Cliff was even cheaper, more home square footage for basically the same price. “We bought the house on Merrimack for about $70,000,” my dad said. “It didn’t have a floor, so we had to build one, and about 5 months after that your sister was born. I think we bought the house in Oak Cliff for a little more than that, but it had a floor.” My dad grew up in Highland Park, and he and my mom didn’t know what to expect when they moved down here. Mom’s from a ranch in East Texas, and they met in Austin. They were white, middle-class liberals, and Dallas was just about the last place either of my parents wanted to live, work and start a family. Hence the decision to move into Oak Cliff: Kessler Park was even then a mostly white, middle-class neighborhood, and just

about the safest place in the hood. I remember most of my neighbors were quite elderly, and the lots were very spacious for the mild-mannered, ranch-style houses that lined Eastus Street. The only people “cruising” here weren’t even tall enough to see over the steering wheel. It was the safe little suburb that time forgot. “I felt like we were in hiding,” my mom said. “Hiding from what?” “From the rest of Dallas; from your dad’s family; this peculiar, upper-class scene that felt so toxic to me and your dad that we didn’t fit in with.” “Is that gentrification?” I asked. “Yes,” my dad said. “No—” my mom said, and thought about it. Her reason had to do with running away and feeling burned by Dallas. And it was incorrect to think of them as the only white people, as evidenced by our neighbors. They were the kind of people who were from there, raised children, watched their children move to the outer suburbs of the city, or other cities and states altogether. They had bought the only home they’d ever bought, back in the 40’s and 50’s, and that was where they were staying.

There were some other kids in our neighborhood. I remember about five homes with kids in all of Kessler Park. I had a best friend between the ages of 6 and 14 down the street. But none of us went to the same school, and eventually middle school and high school did to all of us what it does: turn us into reprehensible social weirdos who don’t know how to be friendly. And why didn’t any of us go to the same school? Because we were all going to different private schools in north Dallas. Benevolent grandparents, scholarships, loans, various measures of scrimpin’ and savin’—one way or another, the young white families of north Oak Cliff exported their kids to north Dallas private schools: the Episcopal School of Dallas, Lutheran, Cistercian, Jesuit, Ursaline, Lamplighter, St. Alcuin, Greenhill, Hockaday and St. Mark’s. They were afraid of schools like Sunset and Adamson, of gangs and violence real and imagined. They distrusted Dallas area public schools. Even DISD’s flagship schools were off-limits: When my sister was accepted into the TAG magnet school and later when I was accepted into the Arts magnet school these options were off the table before they were even discussed.

During the 90’s, my friends were scattered across the Park Cities and Preston Hollow, and sometimes as far north as Plano and Richardson. I never thought about where I or my

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During the 90’s, my friends were scattered across the Park Cities and Preston Hollow, and sometimes as far north as Plano and Richardson. I never thought about where I or my

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friends lived, but sometime during middle school, a few of my classmates made a joke about whether my family’s house had bars on the windows. “I live in Kessler Park, next to a golf course,” I tried to explain. One of them told me that his dad had to drive through Oak Cliff once for work and that his dad “covered his car windows with cardboard so he wouldn’t get shot from all the drive-bys.” “Cardboard isn’t bullet proof,” I tried to explain. “Also, I live next to a golf course.”

By the time I started going to prep school in Addison, I began to understand what my friends’ parents thought about Oak Cliff. When I was 16 in 2002, there was some kind of magic barrier at I-30 that prevented my friends’ parents from granting them permission to hang out at my house. My boyfriend’s mother didn’t want him to drive down here or back after dark, and my best friend wasn’t allowed to drive down here at all. That same boyfriend’s father asked his son if he wouldn’t consider getting a girlfriend who was more “geographically desirable,” a term rarely used outside of commercial real estate. Another friend’s dad told my mom once that “it doesn’t help that your daughter lives in Oak Cliff.”

What I’d really like to point out here is that the home I lived in looks kind of like a fairy tale castle, and it boggled my mind that anyone could think my parent’s home is less than beautiful. They eventually moved from that first ranch house a whole two blocks south into a stone house that we’re pretty sure is the oldest continuously inhabited house in Dallas County (there’s some home in Old City Park that’s older, but who cares.) I’ve never seen another house like it anywhere in the city. So I stayed north of the hood for most of high school, and after a rough first year of college in California I moved back to Texas and back into mom and dad’s home. Aside from two years of college in Arlington, six months in New Zealand, and two years

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working and living in North Dallas, I have lived in Oak Cliff most of my life. I loved it so much I moved back home to my parent’s house three times between the ages of 19 and 24, and when Ben finally graduated from UTD I begged him to book it down south with me and find a sweet little historic unit somewhere south of 30. What I have always loved about this neighborhood is how far away from the rest of Dallas it feels. If I must come back to Dallas for work, family and love, then at least let me live in Oak Cliff, and if I’m ever going to love this city and all of its selfeffacing, self-centered glory, it’ll be because I loved Oak Cliff first. And that brings me back to white people. In 2007, I hung out with that old high school boyfriend who wasn’t allowed at my house after dark, and he told me his mom’s new favorite restaurant was Bolsa. I could still see the grey, decrepit garage building it was only just a couple months earlier. Some people made the trek down to the original Gloria’s once in a while, but I was still getting used to Hattie’s when people north of the river began talking about Bolsa. Eventually Tillman’s Corner became the Tillman’s Roadhouse it is today. The same friend whose father said it “didn’t help” that I lived in Oak Cliff told me his mom was having regular luncheon dates at the new restaurant. “What’s it called again?” he asked. “Tillman’s Corner,” I said. “No, that’s not right,” he said, trying to remember. “It’s Tillman’s Roadhouse.” +++ I grew up in on both sides of the Trinity River, and neither side cared very much for the other, and growing up as a teenager and young adult, I didn’t care much for Dallas on the whole. Clearly, I’m not breaking any new ground when I say this, but I think it’s worth pointing out the feeling of hate for this city is typical of the Dallas-teenager experience. I think the city motto among its youngest citizens is something like “Let’s tell people we’re from Austin so they won’t think we’re lame.” I always held a torch for this part of the city: Dallas I had left, to Oak Cliff I have returned. Broke of creativity and cash, I spent a lot of free time during my early 20’s driving around the neighborhoods my parents never visited. One of my best friends moved in with me to a little house in El Tivoli Place, where we lived for six months before our landlord sold the property. I made friends with baristas who had bonfires at the levee late at night off of Canada Drive and Westmoreland.

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ART

THE ANARCHIC LIFE OF MICHAEL MCPHEETERS

By Andrew Plock Photos by Javier Valadez

One writer’s attempt to understand the mind and helter-skelter life of an artist and social activist with a penchant for the chaotic.

couch. He lets out a deep sigh, and mentally he prepares for his final task -- meet with this journalist who has been adding to his muddled, hectic schedule for a one-on-one interview. Even with everything he does, it seems nothing takes a backseat to his greatest passion at this point in life—the sex trafficking awareness project, Handle With Care. It’s no wonder the man has so little time to spare as everything he does, creates or talks about goes back to his movement. And for as unstructured as he may seem on the surface, he never loses his focus on what he’s after. It was here, after our whirlwind of connection, the window opened, and McPheeters let me inside his world—a man born out into a household of strong faith who battled with addiction, and how he was still learning to coexist with his past and present. Starting from a place of despair, open and devoid of caution, McPheeters filled me in on the man I had been hunting, beginning his story from an end.

First Contact

“I’m really excited to meet you, and talk about Handle With Care. We have a really big show with a bunch of huge names coming up that I want to fill you in on,” McPheeters says. It’s mid-July, roughly a month before we sit and talk at the theater, and his California-tinted voice is oozing through my phone for the first time. It’s a to-the-point, yet friendly, initial exchange. The kind voice with a purpose is a demeanor indicative to the McPheeters I would come to know. He bristles at the impromptu request to hash out his pathway to Dallas and his project, as well as his overarching career that started with his street art and studio work in Hollywood. Right now he’s really working through Handle With Care’s biggest show yet, Red Light District, that has been surging thanks to all of his hard work for the past two years. We’re both looking forward to the story, and we end the call with the goal of letting him find a time in his schedule that works. But after a week, I don’t hear from him. I find out through THRWD’s Facebook that McPheeters lost my number. I give him a couple of days to regroup, and follow up with him to set our day. We aim to meet the next afternoon. That morning, I call and shoot a message for confirmation.

inally, Michael McPheeters has the time to talk. For the first time, it’s just the two of us sitting in the lounge area of Texas Theater, attempting to walk back through his life, history and future, uninterrupted and alone. All our efforts have been plagued with missed connections: Lost numbers, a forgotten phone, labored hangouts jumbled together after shifts and brief moments buried in the loud atmosphere of his nightlife. But now, the 34-year-old is here, albeit tired and worn out, nonetheless ready for our talk. Fresh from painting a corporate mural, his forearms are caked and layered with the hues he used to depict the Dallas skyline in sharp detail. His muscular frame slowly releases as it sinks further into the

No response, no interview. It’s a full day before he reaches out through the again through the same avenue to fill me in on the no show.

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No response, no interview. It’s a full day before he reaches out through the again through the same avenue to fill me in on the no show.

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“My phone has been M.I.A. all weekend, I hope to have one tomorrow,” he writes. “I apologize for the delay on getting back to you on the interview, and am grateful for the opportunity.” New phone in hand, we start the process again only to have it stall -- he’s leaving for the Bahamas with his sister in a few days; unfortunate timing as I was leaving on a trip the day he returns. Thanks to a missed phone call on my end, it’s something I find out the day before he leaves. Trying to make the best, we both decide grabbing a beer late that night -- at least try to meet personally -- is the best option outside of two weeks of silence. He suggests Anvil Pub as our location for the evening. By this time I’m familiar with his available past thanks to his websites and simple searches: Worked on movie sets in Hollywood, came to Dallas to attend Christ For The Nations International. I even caught minor backstory on the mission trip that awakened his mind to the distorted world of sex trafficking, spawning what would soon become Handle With Care. I just haven’t had the chance to hear it from him. Part One From Michael McPheeters It’s a little past 8 p.m. at Texas Theatre a few hours off schedule from the time we tried to hammer down. His mural ended up taking his entire day. Couple that with him checking out an afterparty from our night before at Sandaga and he reveals he’s been running on very little sleep as he got home at 5 a.m. Yet, as tired as he is from painting all day, he’s making it a

point to be present during our interview. Picking at the arm of the couch, he hesitates slightly on how to bring up what put him in motion to come Dallas. “I was a major drug addict,” he said. “I struggled with it, and it pretty much took five years of my life -- just down the drain.” Going on four years sober, McPheeters recalls his battles with heroin and what took place to clean him up. His sister sent him to rehab after rehab, but at the time, nothing could stop the path he was on. Throughout our time together, he never once avoids his faith. To him, God is a fundamental element in his being. Raised by his missionary parents, he grew up learning how to have a heart for the drug addicts, prostitutes and homeless of Hollywood where his parents started a ministry targeted to the very same. But even during his darkest days, it was tough to feel like there was direction. “I loved Jesus, but I couldn’t live for him,” McPheeters says. So here he was, at his latest rehab stint nearby in Gun Barrel City, a place he had been before. But this time he’s at five years of use, and he’s starting to feel the weight of hopelessness. “I was starting to give up on myself,” he said. “I just could not see a way out.” He kept telling himself that each time was the last time. One last time, and he’s done. Forever. It all sounded too cliche, he said. To him though, drug addiction was slavery. Then the turning point came. All he can remember from his last relapse was recooking a shot because he’s not sure it was strong enough. It’s a costly, common mistake for an addict who hasn’t

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fully used in a while and tries to do the same amounts they’ve been accustomed to. The next memory is one that placed him between the physical and spiritual, almost as if he was being pulled deep into an ocean of black ink. Blackness consumed his body until he sank to the bottom. Sweet seductions whispered to him, assuring him he will be theirs forever. Until it hit him: It wasn’t his time. He pleaded to be brought back, and emerged from the pit to his body locked up from an overdose. He weeped knowing that all that was left for him was change or death, and for the first time, the man who believed himself to be the invincible Michael McPheeters, was scared. Then he did something he had never done before: Give up his own dope. It was the first step to being free of the addiction, and shortly after he went through detox cold turkey, no fillers or substitutions. And despite all his efforts to find peace and adherence to the recovery process, he knew something within his addiction was still plaguing him. “I still had this thing in me that was

stronger than me -- it just wanted to be fed,” he said. He rivaled it to Venom, the black symbiote that attached itself to Spiderman, bringing out only his worst traits. It wasn’t until he relinquished his addiction to God asking him to, “take the heroin from me.” At that moment, he knew he was delivered. No longer would he be subjected to the torment of addiction. Now McPheeters could begin his path to Dallas. First Drink “Hey, I’m heading out to Anvil right now,” McPheeters tells me on the phone. He had some other news, too. The meetup tonight isn’t going to be just us, he says. A girl he first describes as an intern at W.A.A.S Gallery, and has been helping with Handle With Care on the side, will be joining us. She ends up bringing a friend, making our hangout a group meeting. Not a problem. At this point I just want to meet the man I’ve been building up in my head for the past two weeks. I find him at the bar. His drink of choice

tonight, he tells me, will be pineapple juice and rum, a primer of sorts for his trip to the Bahamas. He asks for them to be a little stronger or as he refers to it, “being on the pirate side.” After we sit down and start asking questions, our guests blend into the background. He talks about working out and painting every day. We end up chatting about his musician father, Charles McPheeters, who he lost to stomach cancer when he was fouryears-old. Our meeting was around the 30th anniversary of Charles’ passing. McPheeters opens up about how his dad was a drug addict turned musical evangelist that he always heard amazing stories about, but never knew. “I always kind of lived under his legacy,” he said. When his father passed, it left his mom with two kids and a ministry they had just started. She was never in front of the stage, so after asking, “what do I do know?” his mom went out and continued to helped girls on the street, and has been doing so for the past 30 years. “It kind of came full circle,” he says with a light laugh. “The apple didn’t fall too far

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from the tree, you know?” He heads outside for a smoke. He lights up a menthol, and steps out on the sidewalk. A homeless man, Paul, selling Street Zine approaches us in scrubs. McPheeters talks about working with the homeless in Hollywood, and the man talks about how the newspaper selling program works for him. McPheeters is interested in what he’s doing, and seems genuinely glad to hear the man is volunteering his time at the hospitals. Thanks to our conversation with Paul, McPheeters fills him in on how he himself is four years removed from completing Narcotics Anonymous. He labels himself as an addict and criminal. It didn’t start out like that, as he was a pot dealer during his time in L.A., but he says his career as a DJ only progressed his lifestyle to other levels. His Story: Part Two Now with his sobriety in line, McPheeters said he felt led to attend Christ For The Nations Institute, a bible college in south Dallas, much like his parents had before him. He considers it a tough but beautiful time in his journey, mainly in finding out that he was more than his bad behaviors. But after three semesters in the school, and a difference of opinion on drinking, he was asked to leave. He still has a lot of love for the school, after all it was where he was able to rekindle his love of art and take the mission trip to a Mexican orphanage that set Handle With Care into motion. There was no easy way to put what he discovered during that trip: He met two young girls -- kids who were barely seven and eight -- who had been prostituted for some time. “At that moment, everything flipped,” McPheeters says. “I was studying about God, about how to serve him best, how to be in the ‘five-fold ministry,’ -- which was never what I was called to do -- and I was just angry.” The experience just festered in him. It didn’t help that he’s always lived his life radical and passionate. “I feel like that’s how God has spoken to me in my life: Obsession and Peace,” he says. “Obsession drives you wild, but the peace that comes behind it leads it.” Soon after he returned, a message targeting sex trafficking began showing up around Dallas. A simple tag that was by no one, but for everyone. It was here

that Handle With Care was born as a way to instill hope in victims and raise awareness in Dallas. Sandaga 813 McPheeters is working his way around the back patio of Sandaga 813. Decked out in a black T-shirt with “Teenage Wasteland” stacked in bold white letters, he pops into conversation with nearly every artist he passes in the outdoor performance space. Thanks to a new mural he’s taken on, we’ve had to cancel the past few interviews we set up after our vacations. So tonight’s plan is to see him in action, as well as make some small chit chat before our last shot at an interview the next day. He’s spinning tonight under his name Michael Nite. He says he feels the strongest sometimes behind the turntables so I’m excited to see him go on. Until then, I’ve been wanting to see him interact with his peers; following him around the artists showcase gives a perfect glimpse. His demeanor is pure infection. The earnest gestures and personal quips make everyone he talks to at peace and chatty while Handle With Care takes up the bulk of every conversation. He knows the art stands to create awareness for trafficked girls, and getting other artists aware of his campaign is his No. 1 goal. Corona in hand, he continues to mingle. He’s had a few already, but he’s not worried about what drinking, or smoking weed for that matter, means to his relationship with God. His life for the Lord is on his sleeve, and after all, he’s human. It’s here, in this type of social environment, that he has made Dallas his home for the past three years. Watching him during his set is energetic. Fire dancers twirl about the floor while he’s bobbing and orchestrating. As soon as his set concludes, I find him at the bar gripping a shot and another Corona at last call. We’ve got our only chance at a faceto-face interview tomorrow, and he feels that this mural should be done and completed by 5 p.m. and we should meet by 6 p.m. No worries on missing this. I give him a last nod and he returns his own. “These are my last drinks for the night,” he said while raising both up in the air. His Story: Part Three

It’s toward the end of our time at Texas Theater. We’ve made mention of both being tired, but we’re in the final stretch. He’s never shown signs of being a quitter, in fact it seems he just has a different way of getting things done. It’s with that concept in mind, he lays out the future of the project, all of which is in the details. Legitimacy is a big point for him. No one involved in Handle With Care is taking any money in it’s first year. He’s tired of seeing artists get burned out for handing over free work to a charity that turns up being a scam. So he’s doing what he can to prove to others that he is honestly seeking awareness, and everyone’s working for free until they can get the model up and running. “It’s advocating against human injustice through the arts,” he says. “It’s not just trafficking -- trafficking is a big buzz word in charity -- it’s sexual exploitation, prostitution. There’s a lot of stuff that needs to be brought to the light.” Right now, 10 percent of everything they raise is going toward Traffick 911, a DFW-based charity aiming to give new life to trafficked victims, and he ultimately wants Handle With Care to become a platform for artists to support their work will in turn support his project. And much like art being a part of the freedom he found post-addiction, McPheeters wants this project to be the key that ignites hope for others. “In my heart, I didn’t know where I fit with this huge subject matter of human slavery,” he says. “But art had given me such a great outlet in my life: It softened my heart; it brought me closer to people; it had given me love for life, and I started appreciating my life more in painting.” No matter what Handle With Care becomes, McPheeters said he feels mandated by God to do this; to be this person. It’s clear that it’s not something he can easily forget, he has to do it. And at the center of it all, McPheeters is still showing he’s still a human; battling demons like everyone else, trying to give people a chance to find peace. And in all his efforts of trying to keep with a project that he hopes will get bigger, he himself is worried about how much bigger it will get. Even asking himself, if it would eclipse his ability. To this, he keeps a simple saying a friend gave him. Something when anyone feels they’re not big enough or worthy to take on the world. “You are the key to the bigger in you,” he says.

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By Lee Escobedo // Photos by Joshua Fortuna

t’s easy to define who is S.C.A.B., or the Socialized Collective Artist Bureau. The eight artists that work in and out of the collective moniker are champions of the entrepreneurial spirit. The question of where S.C.A.B. functions is just as simple. The respective members live, work and exhibit at the various DIY spaces across East Dallas, That That, Homeland Security, Studio Don’t Fuck This Up, and the collective controls their own press on the YouTube interview show, Conversations In The Void. But what’s deliciously more complicated to ask is, “What is S.C.A.B.?” S.C.A.B.’s members are made up of transplants and prodigal sons. There are currently eight members, Lucy Kirkman, Samantha McCurdy, Justin Hunter Allen, Eli Walker, Josh Von Ammon, Kelly Kroener, Alexander DeJulio and the newest recruit, Frank Darko. They hail from different cities, Philadelphia, New York, Chicago, and landed in (or back in Frank, Josh and Eli’s case) to Dallas for one thing: to make it. The answer to what is S.C.A.B. turns out to be a bunch of things. Part collective, part umbrella network, part DIY blueprint, S.C.A.B. reminded us how to make it in Dallas without waiting for permission, handouts, funding or exhibiting opportunities. The decision to co-habitat a small

By Lee Escobedo // Photos by Joshua Fortuna

niche within the scene comes with its pains. Like feeling a bit displaced while your living room functions as a full-time gallery and the exhibiting artist sleeps on your pull-out couch. We all know people love snuggling in safety. Dallasites have been hesitant to step foot out of the “Arts District,” in search of the art and artists truly representing the pulse of the city’s hungry and over-heated heartbeat. While one member’s voice could ring the alarm alone, S.C.A.B. raises a chorus of call-to-arms. The three galleries (and soon to be fourth for members Josh von Ammon and Frank Darko in the Cedars neighborhood) have played host to some of the best curatorial and exhibiting executions of the year. With Lucy Kirkman’s show, Library of Babel, at DiJulio and McCurdy’s That That studio standing as a testament to how a little DIY elbow grease can oil up a city’s archaic gallery framework. THRWD sat down with each duo within the group, Kirkman and Allen, Walker and Kelly, Darko and von Ammon and McCurdy and DiJulio, to explore the dynamics within their work, each other and the group. What was produced was a manifesto split eight ways, with each signature written in blood, sweat and tears.

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ART

STUDIO DON’T FUCK THIS UP (DTFU)

Location: 842 1st Ave. Founders: Lucy Kirkman, Justin Hunter Allen Established: 2012

eeping the overhead low, Kirkman and Allen have transformed their living space into a working space, DIY gallery, re-imagining the blueprint of artist-run spaces. The idea started after a show Kirkman had planned for at a local Starbucks was nixed because of nudity. Not being able to find exhibiting spaces that allowed for creativecontrol led her to turning the inside of her and Allen’s Expo Park apartment living-room into a minimal, but intimate gallery. Those looking for an appropriate mantra for our city’s art dwellers should look no further than of Homeland Security, which is really KIRKMAN: this gallery’s aptlyembracing, titled gallery. “This is our house, this is S.C.A.B. Our approach has been our bookshelf.” First encounters: “At ourLike first the show,rest Eli of their yourare pure, whitewall gallery. And Kirkman towards and Allen [Walker], Kelly [Kroener] cohorts, and Josh [von transforming the Ammon] came to our first show. It was a maintaining their integrity with space in that sense. So everything is gone but the white walls. great meeting place, it was like sounding pioneering programming. When we’re in exhibition mode, as a visia horn. We were really trying to find other visual artists. They heard about what we were doing and came out. And when I saw their work it was like we were speaking the same language. In terms of organization, it’s unstructured and something that’s created by all of us together. We meet as much as we can periodically we meet. There’s interaction that happens outside of it.” Micro/macro Evolution: “We came here after graduating and I had done a year of post-graduate work. I had a hard time finding an audience for our work, things that would contribute to our career. With Studio DTFU, it’s an expansion of my practice, curation in particular. Working here out of the studio, curation is literally an extension of my studio practice here. Composing an exhibition as you would compose a painting. Approaching my work in the theatre has shaped my work too. Shaping a whole space and getting a feel of it.” Size matters: “In an opposite approach

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tor here you wouldn’t know we live here.”

ALLEN: Friendly competition: “I thought it was good, I could jive with it. There was a sense of rivalry that was kind of nice. It pushed us, when we saw their installation in The Nest, it pushed us. We thought we were just going to go in there and have an art show. But we realized we gotta make this better, amp this up.” The manifesto: “I wouldn’t speak for S.C.A.B., there’s a lot of strong personalities. Everybody has a thing. For DTFU, and our contribution to it, the word is, ‘low overhead.’ But the new word is, ‘open-source.’ That’s a new word that we like. When we try to put on exhibitions at DTFU, we try to put on shows without any help. Well, we do do it without any help, we try to pay for everything. And we also try to make it not so overblown so someone else looking at it would be, ‘Damn if I had that budget...’ It happens

quite literally, in the living room.” How his practice has evolved since working in (in conjunction as a member), and out of (as a solo artist) S.C.A.B.: “I do less. I used to make 10 paintings at a time. Now I sort of experiment, experiment, experiment and then put out one that I know is good, instead of putting out ten or extreme, 30 new things. That’s also because the studio, as an organization requires some attention, and also produces its own projects, like doing this website that I’m working on. It’s a Wiki and message board for art criticism and the image board is more of a fast free-form conversation. All those things you can do and you can do anonymous and you don’t have to sign up to participate. That’s something that was born out of the DTFU philosophy. I wouldn’t have thought about doing it otherwise.”

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STUDIO DON’T FUCK THIS UP (DTFU) Location: 842 1st Ave. Founders: Lucy Kirkman, Justin Hunter Allen Established: 2012

tor here you wouldn’t know we live here.”

quite literally, in the living room.”

KIRKMAN:

How his practice has evolved since working in (in conjunction as a member), and out of (as a solo artist) S.C.A.B.: “I do less. I used to make 10 paintings at a time. Now I sort of experiment, experiment, experiment and then put out one that I know is good, instead of putting out ten or extreme, 30 new things. That’s also because the studio, as an organization requires some attention, and also produces its own projects, like doing this website that I’m working on. It’s a Wiki and message board for art criticism and the image board is more of a fast free-form conversation. All those things you can do and you can do anonymous and you don’t have to sign up to participate. That’s something that was born out of the DTFU philosophy. I wouldn’t have thought about doing it otherwise.”

First encounters: “At our first show, Eli [Walker], Kelly [Kroener] and Josh [von Ammon] came to our first show. It was a great meeting place, it was like sounding a horn. We were really trying to find other visual artists. They heard about what we were doing and came out. And when I saw their work it was like we were speaking the same language. In terms of organization, it’s unstructured and something that’s created by all of us together. We meet as much as we can periodically we meet. There’s interaction that happens outside of it.” Micro/macro Evolution: “We came here after graduating and I had done a year of post-graduate work. I had a hard time finding an audience for our work, things that would contribute to our career. With Studio DTFU, it’s an expansion of my practice, curation in particular. Working here out of the studio, curation is literally an extension of my studio practice here. Composing an exhibition as you would compose a painting. Approaching my work in the theatre has shaped my work too. Shaping a whole space and getting a feel of it.” Size matters: “In an opposite approach

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of Homeland Security, which is really embracing, “This is our house, this is our bookshelf.” Our approach has been towards your pure, whitewall gallery. And transforming the space in that sense. So everything is gone but the white walls. When we’re in exhibition mode, as a visitor here you wouldn’t know we live here.”

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ART

THAT THAT

Location: 3901 Main St. Founders: Samantha McCurdy, Alexander DiJulio Established: 2013

fter meeting while both attending Maryland Institute College of Art, DiJulio and McCurdy decided to move to Texas to work and create. After finding it difficult to find exhibition opportunities, the friends-since-college decided to take it into their own hands, thus That That was born. A completely self-made gallery (DiJulio and McCurdy built the walls, counter and kitchen themselves, out of Home is where the art is: “We’ve always SAMANTHA MCCURDY: what was a raw open space) in wanted to exhibit here, mixed use space Fair Park, That That natural anduses have parties. It was just a little bit of Not being afraid to do Dallas: “Alex had aand slowshade process because when we first found this space, at thatlight time to I was still illuminate moved in it needed a lot of work put into in Baltimore, and called me and said the intricate and exhilarating it. We built the kitchen, we built the bar. “Fuck it, move down here I think it would With our friend Travis Lamothe, the big exhibitions be a great for us to be after school,” the young wall out there was concrete, so in order People ask us all the time because we’re gallery hosts. for us to hang art we needed to put both from Philadelphia, we both went to school in Baltimore, that moving to Dallas seems super random. And what I tell them is typically artists either move to L.A. or New York. Those are the two cities branded as being, “art cities.” Every motherfucker in those cities think they’re an artist, thinks they’re a DJ, thinks they’re a photographer. We didn’t need to move somewhere that’s known as an art scene, we need to move somewhere that has the economy that can support the arts. Dallas has a great economy and a lot of people with money. And it has less competition to be an artist, not to say if we were in another city with a lot of artists we wouldn’t be able to succeed because I’m confident our art is at that level. But I think that coming out of undergrad it was nice for us to not be treading water in a city that requires so much fucking grinding and competition. Fuck it, we’re gonna make art no matter where we go let’s go somewhere with an up-and-coming art scene, like Dallas, that has money to support us. This space is amazing and that was what sealed the deal for me to move here.”

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up floating dry wall in front of it. Travis drafted up a grant. It got approved and SMU gave us money to put up the whole wall. When we moved in it was totally open. We ended up getting the floors redone, hardwood sealed and leveled. We always wanted to have artwork in there we just needed to put a little elbow grease into it before it got to a nice enough level to put on art shows.” Embracing Differences: “It benefits us because if we wanted to have five shows going at the same time at each of our spaces we could. We have this umbrella where we can all promote for each other and reach four times the amount of people than we would on our own. We all know different people and hang out in different social settings. Kelly and Eli hang out in a different social circle than Alex and I. But if we were to promote a show that the four of us were in, we would bring out both those social circles that otherwise might not flirt with each other. If we have a group show, and one member opts not to be in it, they don’t have to be in it just because it’s “S.C.A.B.”

There was a show we had together where Eli decided not to be in it. And he decided to write a review of the show. He still played a very important role. We don’t need other people publishing a review for it to be legitimate. We all have the same mentality of ‘Fuck it, let’s do it.’”

ALEXANDER DIJULIO: Dat That That, doe: “There was a sign on the door, and Central Trak is just down the road. I spent a lot of time trying to find places. Coming around this neighborhood I saw this place for lease and I didn’t know what it was but I thought the building was nice. I called got an appointment and came and saw it. It was basically a big open rectangle. I was like, “Oh my God!” I had seen like 20 different apartments and they were nice, but they were carpeted and the same. I came here and it was totally different. Like it was from a different city and a different era. It was like a different place in time and space. Isolated from the rest of what was going on. It’s a fairly central point, close to downtown and highways. It had so much space and light I was really seduced.” On their collaboration: “It makes a lot of sense to have someone to bounce ideas off of, someone who’s in a similar situation to you. We make similar work so it’s easier to collaborate with her. It makes a lot of sense, in regards to S.C.A.B., because we have this system of studios that are broken down in a similar fashion and it helped to fit into that group. It’s how it became such a strong thing. We have these pairs that work both together and separately. We are the two that focus more on sculpture than the rest. Kelly has a fascination with sculpture also, but for the most part we would get pegged more often, well maybe a little more me, as the sculpture ones. Josh, Eli and the rest would describe themselves as painters. Whereas Kelly has evolved somewhere between painting and sculpture. “ Standing out: “I think we get pegged as hanging out with a fancier crowd. We got o parties more and to clubs. Whereas everybody else is less interested in that. At the end of the day all of us love sitting around and hanging out. You could say everyone loves smoking cigarettes and drinking. But, we do all fit into the same art openings. You can find us there, just as much as anywhere else. We share that in common with the group. “

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THAT THAT

Location: 3901 Main St. Founders: Samantha McCurdy, Alexander DiJulio Established: 2013

ALEXANDER DIJULIO:

Dat That That, doe: “There was a sign on the door, and Central Trak is just down the road. I spent a lot of time trying to find places. Coming around this neighborhood I saw this place for lease and I didn’t know what it was but I thought the building was nice. I called got an appointment and came and saw it. It was basically a big open rectangle. I was like, “Oh my God!” I had seen like 20 different apartments and they were nice, but they were carpeted and the same. I came here and it was totally different. Like it was from a different city and a different era. It was like a different place in time and space. Isolated from the rest of what was going on. It’s a fairly central point, close to downtown and highways. It had so much space and light I was really seduced.”

SAMANTHA MCCURDY: Not being afraid to do Dallas: “Alex had found this space, at that time I was still in Baltimore, and called me and said “Fuck it, move down here I think it would be a great for us to be after school,” People ask us all the time because we’re both from Philadelphia, we both went to school in Baltimore, that moving to Dallas seems super random. And what I tell them is typically artists either move to L.A. or New York. Those are the two cities branded as being, “art cities.” Every motherfucker in those cities think they’re an artist, thinks they’re a DJ, thinks they’re a photographer. We didn’t need to move somewhere that’s known as an art scene, we need to move somewhere that has the economy that can support the arts. Dallas has a great economy and a lot of people with money. And it has less competition to be an artist, not to say if we were in another city with a lot of artists we wouldn’t be able to succeed because I’m confident our art is at that level. But I think that coming out of undergrad it was nice for us to not be treading water in a city that requires so much fucking grinding and competition. Fuck it, we’re gonna make art no matter where we go let’s go somewhere with an up-and-coming art scene, like Dallas, that has money to support us. This space is amazing and that was what sealed the deal for me to move here.”

On their collaboration: “It makes a lot of sense to have someone to bounce ideas off of, someone who’s in a similar situation to you. We make similar work so it’s easier to collaborate with her. It makes a lot of sense, in regards to S.C.A.B., because we have this system of studios that are broken down in a similar fashion and it helped to fit into that group. It’s how it became such a strong thing. We have these pairs that work both together and separately. We are the two that focus more on sculpture than the rest. Kelly has a fascination with sculpture also, but for the most part we would get pegged more often, well maybe a little more me, as the sculpture ones. Josh, Eli and the rest would describe themselves as painters. Whereas Kelly has evolved somewhere between painting and sculpture. “ Standing out: “I think we get pegged as hanging out with a fancier crowd. We got o parties more and to clubs. Whereas everybody else is less interested in that. At the end of the day all of us love sitting around and hanging out. You could say everyone loves smoking cigarettes and drinking. But, we do all fit into the same art openings. You can find us there, just as much as anywhere else. We share that in common with the group. “

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Home is where the art is: “We’ve always wanted to exhibit here, mixed use space and have parties. It was just a little bit of a slow process because when we first moved in it needed a lot of work put into it. We built the kitchen, we built the bar. With our friend Travis Lamothe, the big wall out there was concrete, so in order for us to hang art we needed to put up floating dry wall in front of it. Travis drafted up a grant. It got approved and SMU gave us money to put up the whole wall. When we moved in it was totally open. We ended up getting the floors redone, hardwood sealed and leveled. We always wanted to have artwork in there we just needed to put a little elbow grease into it before it got to a nice enough level to put on art shows.” Embracing Differences: “It benefits us because if we wanted to have five shows going at the same time at each of our spaces we could. We have this umbrella where we can all promote for each other and reach four times the amount of people than we would on our own. We all know different people and hang out in different social settings. Kelly and Eli hang out in a different social circle than Alex and I. But if we were to promote a show that the four of us were in, we would bring out both those social circles that otherwise might not flirt with each other. If we have a group show, and one member opts not to be in it, they don’t have to be in it just because it’s “S.C.A.B.”

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ART

CONVERSATIONS IN THE VOID

Location: https://www.youtube.com/ user/PariahPublication Founders: Frank Darko, Joshua von Ammon Established: 2012

s hard pressed as it is to discover new and transformative artists in print, it’s even rarer to hear them expound on practice and politic through video interviews. Conversations in the Void host, von Ammon interviews artists, curators and gallery owners on his minimal set, giving a face to the work that is pushing this city towards the prominent recognition it deserves as an artistic capital. A musical or performance piece usually follows, showcasing the talents of both locally and national musical talents.

Location: https://www.youtube.com/ user/PariahPublication Founders: Frank Darko, Joshua von Ammon Established: 2012

Photo By: Frank Darko

FRANK DARKO: Booking: “I think that it kind of confused some people. Early on, it was like they were asking, ‘What do you do and why?’ And I feel like I never had an adequate explanation. But I thought it was necessary for the city. And if we’re not the people to do it, than someone else needs to come along and do it better.” Where the idea came from: “I was looking for something to shoot for a web series and I had a few ideas and one of them was something like Conversations in the Void. I ran it by Josh like, ‘I think you would be a good candidate for it. It’s this show and I don’t know what to call it yet. It’ll be shot infinite black, super minimalist, very like The Charlie Rose Show. I broke down the reason I had for wanting to pursue something like that, and he dug it. It was Josh who came up with the name.” The current hiatus: “The hiatus of Conversations in the Void is unfortu-

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warehouse in West Dallas (The Nest) that Upstart Productions was doing shows in. They asked us to do an art show. We were doing these installations in this room. Eli had stacked like 5,000 fluorescent light bulbs into the corner of the room. It was awesome. When we were there, Lucy and Justin were working in the room next to us. Then we went and found out they were doing shows out of their apartment, which was exactly what we wanted to do. We had a studio in West Dallas at the time, so we fashioned this idea to have all these sub-groups and create this larger group. This wasn’t the idea of working together, but to create a blanket that was larger than us on our own. Everyone has very unique voices within that, rather than trying to harmonize, it’s more interesting to keep those variations.”

ART

Name dropping: “I thought of Dallas as “the void.” If you live in the void, you only talk about the void. That’s very Dallas minded. I have a particular vehemence for Dallas, but it’s only warranted because I grew up in Dallas. And not the suburbs. Here, in Dallas. I thought, it’s Conversations in the Void, it looks like a void, it has a good ring to it. People will remember that. So I got on the internet to see if anyone had taken it and no one had.”

Photo Photo By: By: Frank Frank Darko Darko

nate, but necessary. We’re making more connections right now and it’s going to be stronger when we come back because our network has grown even since we put it on hold. As our network continues to grow we’re able to expand what Conversations in the Void means. To me specifically, the whole point of start it was to bring a face to the arts. I feel like it’s such a mysterious thing to most people. They hear about these art shows, and maybe they turn up, maybe they don’t but they’re not really a part of the scene. And it’s not easy to become a part of the scene if you’re not particularly well educated I feel, I wanted something that would be a stepping stone. These are real people, this is what they’re like, this is how they feel -- come see their work.”

JOSHUA VON AMMON: D.I.Y. -- Dallas Is Yours: “We all really met serendipitously. If it wasn’t for the events that took place in the first four months of 2012. We got this cool show in this

Bosom buddies: I would like to be better at it. At first I wanted to be cool, this alter-ego, but I’m not a good actor. If I was ever in a film, which someday I would like to because I’m vain, I would only be able to play myself. I would like to be a little sharper. That was fully realized when I was watching Carter, what’s his fucking face? Well he’s dead. Johnny Carson! I had never watched Johnny Carson. I didn’t watch TV growing up. My mother wouldn’t let us have a TV till I was about six. We went to nine different churches before I hit puberty. Everything from the Pentecostal people who handle snakes and lay hands on you and you pass out to Baptist churches. I spent two months going to this all black Baptist church. When I met Frank, in 5th grade, I was like, ‘I kind of know how you feel!’ (Laughs) He was the only black guy at this crazy Christian school. And that must have been awkward. They weren’t open minded people they were like Children of the Corn. That’s where our friendship boned. I was like, ‘No one likes me here,’ and Frank was like, ‘I’m black,’ so we figured we would be friends.”

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CONVERSATIONS IN THE VOID

Location: https://www.youtube.com/ user/PariahPublication Founders: Frank Darko, Joshua von Ammon Established: 2012

Photo Photo By: By: Frank Frank Darko Darko

JOSHUA VON AMMON: D.I.Y. -- Dallas Is Yours: “We all really met serendipitously. If it wasn’t for the events that took place in the first four months of 2012. We got this cool show in this

Photo By: Frank Darko

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JOSHUA VON AMMON: D.I.Y. -- Dallas Is Yours: “We all really met serendipitously. If it wasn’t for the events that took place in the first four months of 2012. We got this cool show in this

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ART

Homeland Security Location: 1715 Gould St. Founders: Eli Walker, Kelly Kroener Established: 2012

ocated in the heart of the Cedars neighborhood, and next to the RE Gallery, cofounders Kroener and Walker open their doors and invite you into their living room, where most of their challenging and inspiring exhibits are displayed, above their couch and behind their dining room table. It makes for a singular art viewing experience, and one that deconstructs the sterile â&#x20AC;&#x153;un-clutteredâ&#x20AC;? nature of commercial gallery spaces.

ELI WALKER: Differences between Dallas and Chicago art communities: “When we had art shows in Chicago, it would just be art students the same age as us. When we had shows here, it was surprising to us because we would get lawyers and collectors coming out to the show. We expected young people. In Chicago it would just be the art students coming out to each other’s shows. If you were doing something DIY, which is something we really picked up in Chicago, a lot of our mentors. Chicago in general has that artistic ethic of opening up your space and having shows on your own. That wasn’t happening in Dallas when we came down here. I’m from Dallas and so is Josh [von Ammon]. When we came down to Dallas we realized that there’s this thing we love to do that’s not really happening here, and if we came down here it could. We decided to pull the trigger.” What’s in a name?: “We came up with S.C.A.B. as an anti-C.A.D.D. (Contemporary Art Dealers of Dallas), which is funny because we found out that C.A.D.D. was a response to D.A.D.A. (Dallas Art Dealers Association) I think it’s a transition that keeps on going. So we called it S.C.A.B. as an alternative. Josh came up with the name, but we were all kicking it around as sort of a play on unions, and what a scab means to a union. We were looking at Dragon Street and the Arts District, when they were promoting the Arts District as the largest arts district in the country, and we were living in Fair Park, West Dallas and the Cedars. These areas weren’t a part of the so-called Arts District, and we thought that was off. And especially Fair Park, which is a historic area for artists to hang out. We said ‘Screw it’ and started an alternative arts area and focus on these spaces. We hoped it would serve as an example for other artists.” Getting shows for dummies: “It’s really easy. If you have a gage, studio or living room, put some artwork up and invite your friends over and you got a show. It’s a really easy philosophy and it always surprises me how people don’t utilize that. We put that into action. Justin and Lucy were utilizing that in their space and Alex and Sam have this really awesome space here that can be used for that. We knew moving into the Cedars that living room was perfect. Right when we move in we knew the front room would be a gallery, so we set it up that way. When we bring artists in it’s not run the same way as a gallery. We don’t have a stable of artists. We do it in hopes that they get picked up

by another gallery. We accidently became professional. When Brendan Carroll came down to show he was looking to get a grant to pay for his expenses for coming down. We had to write something for him and we had to write a letterhead. I never thought we would have to have a letterhead. So we set down and ripped off a bunch of stuff from the real Homeland Security website and put a dog over the eagle and now we had a letterhead. We don’t do commissions. If anything sells it’s all on you. Most of the time I have to argue with the artist over the commission, because they want to give me more. But they take all the risk in coming down.”

KELLY KRONER: When S.C.A.B. first began to peel: “Justin and Lucy’s show at Studio DFTU was the first show I went to where I realized this was exactly what we wanted to be doing with our space. We saw a kindred spirit between us and them. At that show I also met Justin Locklear who offered us an opportunity to show at The Nest, and that’s what really started our whole group because all the members of S.C.A.B. were showing there. We all saw a strong force. We really started hanging out after that. Soon after that we decided we as a group needed to have a show together. Momentum kicked up from there.”

ELI WALKER:

comfortable naturalness to it. Sometimes it is a little hard. When we do have a show up and someone wants to see it, there will be 10 minutes to cram everything that’s not appropriate, you know a mess in the back. It’s a lot of constant upkeep. However, I really like it personally because it integrates challenging art into a home scene. With Kyle Evans, his stuff was what people would call, “non-traditional for a home.” But at the same time it fit quite well. He situated on old furniture and it became perfect for a domestic space. At first he talked about doing shelves, and our walls are wood and we didn’t want to do that. That led him to the decision to put it on old furniture. As far as curation goes, we have a collaborative curation process typically. Especially when we’re in the house and the artist is there too and they’re telling us how they want to see it. It’s always a really good conversation.”

Differences between Dallas and Chicago art communities: “When we had art shows in Chicago, it would just be art students the same age as us. When we had shows here, it was surprising to us because we would get lawyers and collectors coming out to the show. We expected young people. In Chicago it would just be the art students coming out to each other’s shows. If you were doing something DIY, which is something we really picked up in Chicago, a lot of our mentors. Chicago in general has that artistic ethic of opening up your space and having shows on your own. That wasn’t happening in Dallas when we came down here. I’m from Dallas and so is Josh [von Ammon]. When we came down to Dallas we realized that there’s this thing we love to do that’s not really happening here, and if we came down here it could. We decided to pull the trigger.” What’s in a name?: “We came up with S.C.A.B. as an anti-C.A.D.D. (Contemporary Art Dealers of Dallas), which is funny because we found out that C.A.D.D. was a response to D.A.D.A. (Dallas Art Dealers Association) I think it’s a transition that keeps on going. So we called it S.C.A.B. as an alternative. Josh came up with the name, but we were all kicking it around as sort of a play on unions, and what a scab means to a union. We were looking at Dragon Street and the Arts District, when they were promoting the Arts District as the largest arts district in the country, and we were living in Fair Park, West Dallas and the Cedars. These areas weren’t a part of the so-called Arts District, and we thought that was off. And especially Fair Park, which is a historic area for artists to hang out. We said ‘Screw it’ and started an alternative arts area and focus on these spaces. We hoped it would serve as an example for other artists.”

Embracing differences within the group, and the Dallas art scene: “We have a broad set of skills within the group. No two of us are alike in our skill set, which is interesting to be able to draw from. And to be able to have other members to learn from and draw information from is great. When we do put on a show together is the responsibilities are widely dispersed. And when people come to a show they meet us. We’re closer to people and much more willing to have a conversation because we’re more in touch with the public. We’re also more open to feedback, talking about the work and introducing the artist. At our space we really like to bring in artists from the outside that haven’t shown in Dallas. The way S.C.A.B. works is I can offer an artists to come down here, have an interview on Conversations in the Void, a place to sleep and other press.”

Getting shows for dummies: “It’s really easy. If you have a gage, studio or living room, put some artwork up and invite your friends over and you got a show. It’s a really easy philosophy and it always surprises me how people don’t utilize that. We put that into action. Justin and Lucy were utilizing that in their space and Alex and Sam have this really awesome space here that can be used for that. We knew moving into the Cedars that living room was perfect. Right when we move in we knew the front room would be a gallery, so we set it up that way. When we bring artists in it’s not run the same way as a gallery. We don’t have a stable of artists. We do it in hopes that they get picked up

When there’s dirty dishes in your gallery: “The first time I went there was when [former owner] Wanda [Dye] was having a dinner at her house. She showed me around and told me she was moving out in October (2012), and our lease was up then too. I really liked the house; it was a perfect space for Eli and I. It had a

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FASHION

TAILOR MADE

Interview and portraits by Javier Valadez

rom different points of the country, two nightlife promoters encountered each other randomly, and eventually teamed up to begin a fashion line that’s used 2013 as a coming out party. Enter Queens, N.Y. native Reham Choudhury and Dallas-raised Reynan Banaban, co-founders of avant-garde men’s clothing line, Verum. What started as a part-time admiration for fashion has turn into a fulltime venture that focuses on re-inventing classic pieces of clothing while giving an incredible attention to detail. The story begins in 2004, when MySpace was the cool way to communicate.

THRWD: What was the hustle like being a promoter back in 2004? Banaban: Back then it was a grind. It would suck cause we would be partying all night, and realize, “Oh shit, it’s 1:45.” We had to rush downstairs, get a stack of flyers, and stand at the end of the door handing out flyers as people would come out. Choudhury: It was a good time because there wasn’t much competition. Nowadays anybody with 250 Twitter followers thinks they can promote and produce shows. Back then it was grimy. THRWD: I’m sure there was a greater gratification when you would see people walk in through the club doors. Were you guys always at the same clubs?

THRWD: What was the hustle like being a promoter back in 2004? Banaban: Yea, we were doing the same events. Reham: But we weren’t mutual friends, I never knew his background and he never knew mine. THRWD: How did you guys get involved with fashion? Banaban: I really wanted to be an architect as a child but I ended up falling in love with the fashion industry. Along those lines of wanting to make that bread, I went to school for interior design. I worked retail, in places like Diesel, and began to combine the two of them doing

visual merchandising. Choudhury: My introduction to fashion began while growing up in New York. I was surrounded by a lot of artwork and graffiti by my house. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, so what I used to do was take the clothes that I had and just change them up myself. You remember JNCO Jeans, the really big ones? I used to take those to the tailor and turn them into skinny jeans. THRWD: JNCO skinny jeans? Banaban: Fucking genius.

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“

VERUM STANDS FOR TRUTH, STAYING TURE TO YOURSELF, DOING WHAT WE BELIEVE IN, - CHOUDHURY / BANABAN

Rey. He was my connect for Diesel Jeans. He was the connect for the whole company. Banaban: It was free-fall, man. It was like, “Let’s go! Everybody look fresh.” Choudhury: When we had a big event, we would go to Rey and spend mad bread on jeans, until he went to Juicy. Then it was like, man, it got awkward. (Laughs) THRWD: When was the breaking moment to start a fashion line together? Banaban: As Reham continued with the nightlife, I started a family. During that moment, I had a partner who I started the idea of a clothing line with. In the mix of that I saw Reham and he told me he was starting a clothing line, also. Choudhury: He couldn’t tell me much about it then, but he said it was gonna be dope.

Banaban: Back then it was a grind. It Choudhury: Yeah, I tookwould the clothes that I we Tom Ford. Banaban: Yea, we were doing the visualour merchandising. suck cause would be partying Banaban: About a year later, visions had and made them a new style. and I justrealize, let same events. all night, “Oh shit, it’s 1:45.” We weren’t eye-to-eye as partners. So we people assume my clothes designer. Banaban: You of can’t mention that shit Choudhury: Myoff introduction to fashion hadwere to rush downstairs, get a stack made the descision to cut the project . I even blacked out the little flaming head at the these Reham: But we weren’t I that began while up in New York. I was flyers, and stand end days of the door It’smutual still allfriends, love. After I caught upgrowing with logo. I did that becausehanding I didn’t want never knew his background never surrounded by a lot of artwork and graffiti out flto yers as people would Rehamand andhe asked him how his clothing be the kid with the samecome pair of jeans for Choudhury: I was a fan when knew mine. he went to by my We didn’t have a lot of out. line was doing, and he said he house. also had years. But in reality I really was. Gucci and he changed the game by being money a fall out with his partner. It wasgrowing perfect up, so what I used to do so diff erent, yet the same. THRWD: I reallyHow had did a you timing guys get involved the clothes that I had and just Choudhury: It was a good time because then, the planetswas had take aligned. THRWD: Reham, you come from a much competition. fascination for those kind with of designers fashion? change them up myself. You remember there wasn’t business and marketingNowadays background, and250 their creative styles. I knew I could do the really big ones? I used anybody with Twitter Choudhury: My situationJNCO was Jeans, just the how did you get into fashion? so much better Banaban: T-shirtI guys, really wanted to be to was takejust those to the tailor and turn them followers thinks they can promote andthan those same. Myan partner’s vision afraid to take the architect leap alone. as a child I but I ended up falling into Iskinny produce shows. Back but thenI was it was grimy. graphic tees, and I said “no, can’t jeans. Choudhury: At that time I saw a lot of didn’t go to college for fashion, in love with I went thefor fashion Along doindustry. that.” I had created Verum with a people opening clothingTHRWD: brands who werethere business. those lines of wantingdesigner’s to make that JNCO skinny jeans? I’m sure was a greater point of view.THRWD: For whatever just phases, making “YOLO” shirts and bread, I went to schoolreason for interior design. gratifi cation when you would see people I called Rey one night and he told calling themselves designers. really the club It was my facination workedand retail, in places andand that Banaban: walk inIt through doors. Were you for Iclothes melike his Diesel, situation, was the Fucking exact genius. annoyed me, because I’m a big fan ofat the same fabrics, that’s how I got began connected to combine with thething two of them guys always clubs? that wasdoing going on with me. We

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TAILOR MADE

Interview and portraits by Javier Valadez

THRWD: What was the hustle like being a promoter back in 2004?

“

VERUM STANDS FOR TRUTH, STAYING TURE TO YOURSELF, DOING WHAT WE BELIEVE IN,

- CHOUDHURY / BANABAN

Rey. He was my connect for Diesel Jeans. He was the connect for the whole company.

Banaban: It was free-fall, man. It was like, “Let’s go! Everybody look fresh.”

Choudhury: When we had a big event, we would go to Rey and spend mad bread on jeans, until he went to Juicy. Then it was like, man, it got awkward. (Laughs)

THRWD: When was the breaking moment to start a fashion line together?

Banaban: As Reham continued with the nightlife, I started a family. During that moment, I had a partner who I started the idea of a clothing line with. In the mix of that I saw Reham and he told me he was starting a clothing line, also.

Choudhury: He couldn’t tell me much about it then, but he said it was gonna be dope.

Choudhury: Yeah, I took the clothes that I had and made them a new style. I just let people assume my clothes were designer. I even blacked out the little flaming head logo. I did that because I didn’t want to be the kid with the same pair of jeans for years. But in reality I really was. THRWD: Reham, you come from a business and marketing background, how did you get into fashion? Choudhury: At that time I saw a lot of people opening clothing brands who were just phases, making “YOLO” shirts and calling themselves designers. It really annoyed me, because I’m a big fan of

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Tom Ford. Banaban: You can’t mention that shit these days Choudhury: I was a fan when he went to Gucci and he changed the game by being so different, yet the same. I really had a fascination for those kind of designers and their creative styles. I knew I could do so much better than those T-shirt guys, but I was afraid to take the leap alone. I didn’t go to college for fashion, I went for business. It was my facination for clothes and fabrics, that’s how I got connected with

Banaban: About a year later, our visions weren’t eye-to-eye as partners. So we made the descision to cut the project off. It’s still all love. After that I caught up with Reham and asked him how his clothing line was doing, and he said he also had a fall out with his partner. It was perfect timing then, the planets had aligned. Choudhury: My situation was just the same. My partner’s vision was just graphic tees, and I said “no, I can’t do that.” I had created Verum with a designer’s point of view. For whatever reason I called Rey one night and he told me his situation, and that was the exact thing that was going on with me. We

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Photo by Jason Acton

literally met that same night, he came to the oce, we sat down, and the only question he asked me was – Banaban: He kicked everybody out of the oce. The conversation was at least 2.2 minutes. He told me what he wanted to do, all I asked for was communication and honesty, and that was it. I asked him, “What’s your vision?” Choudhury: I told him my vision and the meaning behind Verum. It was perfect. It could not have worked out better. We had the same vision and the respect for each other. That was the night Verum was born. Banaban: The right side of the brain found the left side. Choudhury: With every business that I do, I always like to have control, 51 percent, but with Rey, there is no animosity. I didn’t think about it twice, 50-50. I’ve never done that before. Banaban: Everybody came back in the room wondering what that was about. We just said, “You’ll see.” THRWD: What is the meaning behind Verum? Choudhury: Verum stands for truth Banaban: Staying true to yourself. Choudhury: Doing what we believe in. Banaban: Not adjusting to times. We’re not gonna change who we are. In every season, you’ll see a piece that is classic. We want Verum to be timeless.

Photo by Jason Acton

THRWD: It seems to me that you’re remixing the t-shirw, the hoodie, etc. Choudhury: Kind of. We put in a lot of details that people might not notice: double stitching, inside lining, gold RiRi zippers, the Rolls Royce of zippers. We want to make sure everything is perfect. We’re putting deer skin leather ropes inside our hoodies, and on our clothes, we number them 1 of 12, 2 of 12, and so on. THRWD: Is the whole numbering a marketing strategy? Choudhury: Rey and I want to make sure the customer gets the most out of this. Banaban: When they purchase our pieces, we want them to be like, “This is mine. This is my hoodie. I have number

12.” They are one of the lucky few to have it. We had a write up in D Magazine’s blog where a guy from the U.K. left a comment on the page saying he was one of the twelve lucky to own our hoodie. That one comment made my day. Our No. 1 seller for our last season was the V-neck with the double zipper and python leather pocket.

this year at Guns and Roses boutique. I was wasted and had a moment of sobriety. Reham came up to me like, “Yo, we did it!” And we just stood there silently on a platform, staring out the window. I just exhaled and thought, “Damn this is done.” Then Reham says, “Alright, back to work.” And it was those two seconds of clear mindedness that I knew this was it.

Choudhury: That piece sold out immediately. We had so many back orders.

Choudhury: For me, my moment was Nas. He is one of my favorite artists, being from Queens. I’ve done events with a lot of musicians but never with Nas. Our schedules lined up at All-Star Weekend in Houston, we had him host an event for us. Instead of having a driver pick him up, I went to go pick him up myself at the hotel. In the beginning I showed him a booklet of Verum I had put together just for him and he didn’t seem to mind. But at the time he was busy with a bag of cigars and showing up the “Suit and Tie” video, which had come out at that time. After he performed, on the way back to drop him off, I kept thinking how am I going to approach him without being a complete failure.

Choudhury: That piece sold out immediately. We had so many back orders.

Choudhury: When I was to look at our email, all I saw was $100, $200, $300 of orders that we couldn’t produce. But it’s really not about the money. Once we become about the money, we lose our passion. THRWD: What has the growth of Verum been like? Choudhury: We were fortunate enough to make enough from our last season that we were able to put everything back to the new season and let it grow. Banaban: We’re not putting anything in our pocket, but right now we want to pay the brand. Choudhury: We had our first company dinner the other day. It was at Chipotle. It was the first time when we were like, “You know what, we deserve it. Charge it to the game!” $20 won’t hurt us. Banaban: Dude, we could have bought more zippers with that! THRWD: What has been your most memorable moment for the brand so far?

Then he hits me with, “I’m hungry, let’s go eat,” so I drive him to some diner and he had his people go inside to get his to-go order. It was just me and him in the car, and I knew this was it. I turned around and say, “Yo, Nas, I know I have about 10 minutes, and I want to show you these clothes.” Then he says in his raspy voice, “Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” I thought, Holy Shit! I jump out of the car, opened the trunk, pull up a Verum hoodie and show it to him. I explain the details and what our brand is about. Then he says, “Yeah, I like this, I like the color and I dig the fit for it.” I asked him, “Would you mind rocking it?” He said, “Yeah, go head.” He took his letterman jacket off and put the hoodie on and immediately said, “Man, this is nice, yo!” When he said that I couldn’t believe it, I asked, “What did you just say?” “I said this is nice, yo. Let me keep this.” And of course, I wasn’t going to argue with that.

Banaban: I guess for me was at the end of our showcase earlier

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Banaban: We wanted to give people what they love, but we had to stay true to the 12 people who first bought the shirts. Choudhury: When I was to look at our email, all I saw was $100, $200, $300 of orders that we couldn’t produce. But it’s really not about the money. Once we become about the money, we lose our passion. THRWD: What has the growth of Verum been like? Choudhury: We were fortunate enough to make enough from our last season that we were able to put everything back to the new season and let it grow. Banaban: We’re not putting anything in our pocket, but right now we want to pay the brand. Choudhury: We had our first company dinner the other day. It was at Chipotle. It was the first time when we were like, “You know what, we deserve it. Charge it to the game!” $20 won’t hurt us.

Photo provided by the Verum.

Banaban: We wanted to give people what they love, but we had to stay true to the 12 people who first bought the shirts.

Banaban: Dude, we could have bought more zippers with that! THRWD: What has been your most memorable moment for the brand so far?

Banaban: I guess for me was at the end of our showcase earlier

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Photo by Jason Acton

FASHION

BISHOP’S GEM

Photos by Yesi Fortuna // Model: Daniela Sevilla // Stylist: Danielle Brown // Assistant Stylist: Kimberly Espinoza // HMU: Erica Taylor-Hollins

ITEM LIST

1 Leather Pleated Skirt

Stylist Collection

2 Oversized Cardigan

$50 ShopStyleShack.com

3 Gold Wrap Bracelet

$25 (left wrist) ShopStyleShack.com

4 Burgundy Felt Hat

Stylist Collection

5 Denim Danielle Top

$40 ShopStyleShack.com

Black Vegan Clutch with Braided Detail

$35 ShopStyleShack.com

6 Leather Bracelet

$28 (right wrist) ShopStyleShack.com

7 Gold Spike Layering Bracelet

$9.99 (right wrist) ShopStyleShack.com

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ITEM LIST 2

ITEM LIST

1 Kitten Heels

Zola’s Everyday Vintage

2 Black Felt Hat

Zola’s Everyday Vintage

3 Leather Bracelet

$28 (right wrist) ShopStyleShack.com

3 Gold Spike Layering Bracelet

$9.99(right wrist) ShopStyleShack.com

4 Gold Wrap Bracelet

$25 (left wrist) ShopStyleShack.com

5 Golden Tribal Tunic

Stylist Collection

6 Burgundy Blazer

H&M

3 4

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ITEM LIST

1 H. Sommer 1960s Mink Stole

$210 Zola’s Everyday Vintage

2 Aztec Jumper

$50 ShopStyleShack.com

3 Gold Bangles

$17 ShopStyleShack.com (left wrist)

4 Gold Hinge Leaf Cuff

$9.99 ShopStyleShack.com (right wrist)

5 Black and Gold Abstract Drop Earring

$18.99 ShopStyleShack.com

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Vintage Bike - $150 - Oak Cliff Bicycle Company

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MUSIC

By Camille Rogers Photos by Andrew Buckley

There was little doubt that BOOTY FADE would take off in Dallas. The new duo has an impressively solid foundation to propel it forward, resting on the broad talents of DJ Sober and producer Richard “PICNICTYME” Escobedo. Both are homegrown artists that have become fixtures in Dallas indie hip-hop and club scenes during the past decade. Sober, who was named “Best DJ” in 2011 by the Dallas Observer, co-founded THE PARTY, a short-lived but game-changing crew that straddled genres and defied expectations of Dallas rap. THE PARTY disbanded in 2009 but, living up to its name, Sober has become a driving force in the city’s nightlife, most notably anchoring the weekly party Big Bang! at Big Bar. Picnic’s built his name off his multitude of talents—he’s an emcee, singer, photographer, musician, video director, and beatmaker. In 2006, he partnered with local rappers Picasso and Tahiti to form the popular group PPT. Like Party Time, it was short-lived, but its impact helped to brand Picnic as the go-to guy in the indie rap scene, and through some contacts he was recruited to play percussion in the Cannabinoids, the backing band of Dallas’s favorite soul-child, Erykah Badu. Over time, each artist commanded a well-deserved reverence within the community, in addition to an appreciation of the other’s work. “I just feel like there was a lot of mutual respect with each other from those times,” said, Sober, sitting next to Picnic in the latter’s home studio. “What Picnic did with PPT. I always admired what he was doing, and I feel like, within his crew, he was always a forward thinker, just stylistic, and his appearance. He was always on the next level.” Being fans of each other, one would think that BOOTY FADE was a deliberate pairing by the two. But in reality, the project was an indirect consequence of fate, opportunity and industry muscle, all coming in the form of manager Rosalinda Ruiz, “The Godmother” of Dallas hip-hop. For a long time, Rosalinda had overseen the indie rap group A.Dd+, who had hired Sober as their official DJ. Ruiz happened to be a longtime associate of Picnic, and she recommended him to AD.d+ to produce their sophomore release, the 2011 LP When Pigs Fly. Sober and Picnic met and, in a creative sense, sparks flew. Their major collaboration on Pigs, “I’m So Dallas,” was arguably the standout track on the album. “Dallas”, an anthemic super-cut, framed around snippets taken from Dallas hits, blew up in the : bootyfade community. : @bootyfade Sober and Picnic took note of their

success with the track, as well of their positive work dynamic and shared love of making party records. They say BOOTY FADE came together organically, after they completed their work on Pigs and Sober finished backing AD.d+ on their supporting tour. They didn’t waste time in dropping singles, via their website. The first, twerk- provoking Fuck like a Stripper, sampled Dallas classics from Treal Lee & Prince Rick and M.E. They followed up with the sizzerp ode Styrofoam Cup and the fast-paced, bassheavy banger Buss It. Also given was a remix of On&On, Erykah Badu’s beloved first single. All of BOOTY FADE’s offerings took off in the community and were co-signed by the original artists. With that encouragement, Sober and Picnic moved forward, and they had lofty goals for BOOTY FADE from the start. First and most important, they wanted to rep their city, and further demonstrate to non-locals that Dallas is a contender against other southern hip-hop scenes, namely those in Houston, New Orleans and Atlanta. The idea behind their first EP was to make club tracks that only featured and sampled Dallas artists, like Dorrough and Yung Nation. “In a nut shell, it’s [BOOTY FADE’s music] about cultivating that

: bootyfade.com

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admired what he was doing, and “ II always feel like, within his crew he was always

appearance. He was always on the next level,

history. You know it’s about taking everything, from Erykah to Dorrough to Yung Nation, all the different eras that were really dominant in our community, you know what I mean?” said Picnic. Second, they wanted to show that the Dallas sound wasn’t one-dimensional, and they made a point to create tracks that drew on a number of styles. They also wanted to experiment with the ways they cut and altered the samples so that, in the end, tracks would challenge the listener. “The first project is definitely geared towards Dallas and paying homage to people who are doing stuff here,” said Sober, adding, “but we’re slipping in things so that it makes a certain kind of music, like maybe where it’s unheard of a certain artist to be over a faster track. Just to make people step outside their box.” He went on to explain his confidence in the group’s continued success. “I’m confident in my DJ-ing skills and he’s confident in his productions skills, so it was a good marriage as far as that goes. And creativity-wise, when you’re good at something you have something to offer up,” Sober said.

“

a forward thinker, just stylistic, and his

Indeed, their union in BOOTY FADE has quickly settled into a form of wedded bliss, professionally speaking. Sometimes it takes members in a new group months, even years, to truly find chemistry. “When we’re in the lab, we have a good, you know, connection as far as like you know, sometimes, Sober will be around and it’s like, he won’t know exactly want he wants to see, but I know exactly what he wants to see.” Picnic said. “And it’s the same thing, whenever, I’m on his territory, with DJ-ing, he’ll drop something, and it’s like, my instinct and all of our instinct we just know,” he added. Sober agreed, “Yeah, like I know which lyrics to kill the fader, and I know what he’s going to say, and it’s like we don’t miss that. So I feel like, what he said, we both get that part, whether it’s in the studio or on stage. “ To date, they’ve only played a few sets as a duo, but had some major visibility this year by hitting events like SXSW. “It pushed me,” said Picnic. “There was a DJ lineup and we went in there putting down live beats and looping shit. It was tight. It was a good show, a very memorable show. Before we came on, I mean, like 50 Dallas people showed up.” People that you always see on the scene and kids that I’ve supported for years, and it was a real good feeling to know that Dallas really stands behind what we’re doing as a team. They just showed up and it got kind of rowdy,” Sober said. As BOOTY FADE elevates their profile, Sober and Picnic hope that Dallas continues to stand behind them, and that their music can serve to minimize the disconnect between indie and commercial hip-hop artists in Dallas. Picnic likens his and Sober’s crossover appeal to a vessel. “Because we still connect with those guys [Top 40 artists] and still connect to the independent scene. Me as a producer. Sober as a DJ. We still connect with them and present those opportunities. Now, which I think has happened before. I don’t think there’s ever been an artist or group that has made those opportunities available, people coming to us being connected.” Picnic said. Sober cited Houston rap star Treal Lee’s repeated presence at his events, and his rubbing shoulders with indie artists, as a prime example of his and BOOTY FADE’s versatility. “It’s a breath of fresh air for these guys, and they want to tap into this. It’s allowing our records to be played for a whole new audience, and they’re reacting to them. So that’s a very exciting thing, to connect those two worlds. People from both sides are excited.” He said.

a forward thinker, just stylistic, and his appearance. He was always on the next level,

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“

admired what he was doing, and “ II always feel like, within his crew he was always

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MUSIC

NOISE MAKER

By Camille Rogers Photos by Taylor Cleveland

ierre Burger has the speaking voice of a 10-year-old boy and the singing voice of a demon. She’s as old as the moon. Her performances are likely to kill some birds. At least that’s what she says. None of it is true, from what we can tell, but it makes sense that comparisons to such a Frankenbeast would come from Burger, a Dallas-based DJ who is deeply fond of the sci-fi genre. Fittingly, music is her experiment. She’s a visual artist that transitioned into music last year, and slowly she and her lo-fi electronic beats are finding their place in the local scene.

THRWD: On a YouTube video of your live performance, you were singing through some sort of contraption.

Burger: Yeah, that’s the live thing—pedals and stuff. At the time I was using a phaser though…it’s a bit more alien. I just like to change whatever it is I do. That particular day was a phaser kind of day (Laughs).

THRWD: And in the studio? You have three collections posted to your site.

Burger: Yeah, that started last summer. A lot of it was just me teaching myself how to record, so it’s actually like a timeline. So, you start from the beginning and it’s a bit sketchier, but I never thought anybody would hear it or anything—that’s why it’s still there (Laughs). If I thought anyone would hear it, I probably would have taken more care. But, I don’t know, it’s like a timeline of accountability. I tried to do one song a week.

THRWD: That’s really impressive. Burger: It might have been one song a day for a while. It was just something that I made myself do over the summer. And then I met someone who found some of my videos and he asked me to do a show. It might have been last March or whatever. I think I have my third show coming up? So I’ve been changing—going from recording to my bedroom to doing that in front of people. THRWD: And what kinds of crowds are you getting at these shows? Burger: Dallas is a weird place. I get a lot of weird looks. I don’t even know if people are enjoying it, but they’re staring.

Burger: It might have been one song a day for a while. It was just something that I made myself do over the summer. And then I met someone who found some of my videos and he asked me to do a show. It might have been last March or whatever. I think I have my third show coming up? So I’ve been changing—going from recording to my bedroom to doing that in front of people.

Burger: I guess in the past I was in a more typical “rock’ n’ roll” band, or proto-punk band, so this is the first time I haven’t done anything guitar based. You know, the first time I’ve done something entirely electronic. I guess that in general is new to me—you know, not playing guitar, singing about metaphors and stuff. I’m playing with people that have been around [in the Dallas scene] for a few years. It’s nice to play with them, but

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THRWD: That’s really impressive.

THRWD: And what kinds of crowds are you getting at these shows? Burger: Dallas is a weird place. I get a lot of weird looks. I don’t even know if people are enjoying it, but they’re staring.

THRWD: So, they’re at least engaged? Burger: I guess. It’s a weird town. I mean. I don’t know. Have you spent a lot of time in Dallas? THRWD: I have. Burger: Do you remember the crowds in Dallas? THRWD: I don’t remember there being much of a lo-fi scene when I was living in there, at all. How is it being in Dallas as a niche artist? Burger: I guess in the past I was in a more typical “rock’ n’ roll” band, or proto-punk band, so this is the first time I haven’t done anything guitar based. You know, the first time I’ve done something entirely electronic. I guess that in general is new to me—you know, not playing guitar, singing about metaphors and stuff. I’m playing with people that have been around [in the Dallas scene] for a few years. It’s nice to play with them, but

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“I’m not really into venues or bars, because I don’t really like lights on me and being on a platform looking down on people. That’s weird to me. I’d rather be sweaty and around people who don’t care,” it’s definitely different. I’m still waiting to do a house party or something. I think it would be ideal. I’m not really into venues or bars, because I don’t really like lights on me and being on a platform looking down on people. That’s weird to me. I’d rather be sweaty and around people who don’t care. I’ve found out that people care a little too much for my tastes.

with a few other mediums.

THRWD: Which of your videos are you the most proud of?

it’s definitely different. I’m still waiting to do a house party or something. I think it would be ideal. I’m not really into venues or bars, because I don’t really like lights on me and being on a platform looking down on people. That’s weird to me. I’d rather be sweaty and around people who don’t care. I’ve found out that people care a little too much for my tastes.

THRWD: So you like being background noise?

Burger: (Laughs)I can’t talk about myself in that way.

THRWD: So you like being background noise?

Burger: (Laughs)I can’t talk about myself in that way.

Burger: Background noise? I think of it as bad sci-fi movie soundtrack music. Or really bad action movie music. A lot of the stuff I was watching at the time (when she started making music), I would try to turn off my brain and I would make stuff up so I could watch bad movies. Really terrible movies, but actually really great. So, I think of it as that. I don’t think people are looking for that when they go out at night. So, it’s not just background music—otherwise I would just plug in my laptop and hit ‘play’. I wouldn’t play a show if I was just background music.

THRWD: (Laughs) OK. Well, are you teaching yourself anything new right now?

THRWD: Is it difficult to be taken seriously as an electronica artist when there are so many DJs who do just that? Burger: I think it’s harder being a woman of color and doing something like this in general. I forget about those differences all the time, and then sometimes it will just hit me, like “Whoa, I don’t see anyone like me.” I find it to be, occasionally, isolating— being there in front of people. Maybe that’s the reason they just stand there looking confused. I’m just doing my thing. But if I stand outside and look at it, I can see I’m out of order. But I try not to think about how I fit into electronica music. I’m just making sounds that I like. THRWD: Ah, I get it. I’m black, and I’m in a folk/country band. Burger: Yeah, I mean you don’t feel different from anyone as a human, but it is like “Hmmm. I think only one here that looks like me.” THRWD: Exactly. Burger: And it’s not like I’m a loner, like “Oh, feel sorry for me.” You like people, so you hang out with people. But sometimes there is something different. I guess that’s just the case here. I’m never around people “like me”. And that’s the way it is. I don’t know why. It would be cool if it wasn’t. I just want a crew—a group of people of color, being creative and making stuff. If I could have a full band like that, a lineup or anything, that would be great. THRWD: Is that one of your goals as an artist? To cultivate a group like that? Burger: I don’t know because, at the same time, I work alone. There’s a welcoming isolation. It’s not like I play sports and I need a team. But it would be a nice change—maybe more inspiring. It would be cool. I’ll keep my eyes open. It would be a nice change of scenery. THRWD: And what about your other projects? I know you work

Burger: I’m more comfortable with visual arts, actually. That’s what I do for a living. So yeah, I do some video stuff. I also do some installation work. Contemporary minimalist stuff.

THRWD: Is it difficult to be taken seriously as an electronica artist when there are so many DJs who do just that?

Burger: No actually. I’m influenced by things like trash. Really stupid things. Banal things. Mostly objects. Sounds too, but it doesn’t have to be a musical melody. It could be a car that brakes in a certain way, I don’t know, just sounds. That sounds horrible, but it’s true.

Burger: I think it’s harder being a woman of color and doing something like this in general. I forget about those differences all the time, and then sometimes it will just hit me, like “Whoa, I don’t see anyone like me.” I find it to be, occasionally, isolating— being there in front of people. Maybe that’s the reason they just stand there looking confused. I’m just doing my thing. But if I stand outside and look at it, I can see I’m out of order. But I try not to think about how I fit into electronica music. I’m just making sounds that I like.

THRWD: No. Not horrible. Not if it works for you. What the last thing you saw that resulted in a song? Burger: Ah, I don’t know. I mean my brain—one side is really loud and bright, and the other side is minimal and cynical. So it’s hard to say. Like with films. One side of my brain really loved The Place Beyond the Pines. That was a great film—beginning, middle, and end. But the other side of my brain really loved World War Z. {Laughs} You know, like I was saying. That bad action film that’s really good.

THRWD: Ah, I get it. I’m black, and I’m in a folk/country band. Burger: Yeah, I mean you don’t feel different from anyone as a human, but it is like “Hmmm. I think only one here that looks like me.” THRWD: Exactly.

THRWD: I see.

Burger: And it’s not like I’m a loner, like “Oh, feel sorry for me.” You like people, so you hang out with people. But sometimes there is something different. I guess that’s just the case here. I’m never around people “like me”. And that’s the way it is. I don’t know why. It would be cool if it wasn’t. I just want a crew—a group of people of color, being creative and making stuff. If I could have a full band like that, a lineup or anything, that would be great.

Burger: Or 90’s club dance videos, like stuff from SNAP!. THRWD: (Laughs) I noticed that you are fond of the 90’s. My favorite clip on your website was, I don’t know, made from an early 90’s aerobic workout video? Burger: (Laughs) Yeah. It was an old VHS. I’ve done a few things with it.

THRWD: Is that one of your goals as an artist? To cultivate a group like that?

THRWD: Is there any artist in another city that you wish you could plant into the Dallas right now scene?

Burger: I don’t know because, at the same time, I work alone. There’s a welcoming isolation. It’s not like I play sports and I need a team. But it would be a nice change—maybe more inspiring. It would be cool. I’ll keep my eyes open. It would be a nice change of scenery.

Burger: David Bowie. THRWD: Nice! And what’s up for you, besides the upcoming show? Burger: I don’t know, I just want to keep busy. I don’t really make plans. People just kind of ask me to do stuff and I’m like, “Sure? Why not?” They’re all just experiments to me.

THRWD: And what about your other projects? I know you work

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Burger: I’m more comfortable with visual arts, actually. That’s what I do for a living. So yeah, I do some video stuff. I also do some installation work. Contemporary minimalist stuff. THRWD: Which of your videos are you the most proud of?

Burger: I’d kind of like to write a movie script. I’ve never done anything like that before. And play more shows, because that’s still new to me. I think it will help me be more creative. I think the more shows I play the more I will want to create more. I don’t like doing the same thing over and over. I like to make new things all the time. I don’t like being bored. THRWD: Are there any artists in the area influencing your work, or have even just struck you? Burger: No actually. I’m influenced by things like trash. Really stupid things. Banal things. Mostly objects. Sounds too, but it doesn’t have to be a musical melody. It could be a car that brakes in a certain way, I don’t know, just sounds. That sounds horrible, but it’s true. THRWD: No. Not horrible. Not if it works for you. What the last thing you saw that resulted in a song? Burger: Ah, I don’t know. I mean my brain—one side is really loud and bright, and the other side is minimal and cynical. So it’s hard to say. Like with films. One side of my brain really loved The Place Beyond the Pines. That was a great film—beginning, middle, and end. But the other side of my brain really loved World War Z. {Laughs} You know, like I was saying. That bad action film that’s really good. THRWD: I see. Burger: Or 90’s club dance videos, like stuff from SNAP!. THRWD: (Laughs) I noticed that you are fond of the 90’s. My favorite clip on your website was, I don’t know, made from an early 90’s aerobic workout video? Burger: (Laughs) Yeah. It was an old VHS. I’ve done a few things with it. THRWD: Is there any artist in another city that you wish you could plant into the Dallas right now scene? Burger: David Bowie. THRWD: Nice! And what’s up for you, besides the upcoming show? Burger: I don’t know, I just want to keep busy. I don’t really make plans. People just kind of ask me to do stuff and I’m like, “Sure? Why not?” They’re all just experiments to me.

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MUSIC

THE COMEBACK KID?

By Andrew Plock

It’s easy to understand why Luis Dubuc is taken aback by the past year. “Coming out here, kinda feels like I’ve started a new life,” Dubuc said. It’s mid-afternoon in Los Angeles, and the brain behind the electro band, Mystery Skulls is heading back to the studio after snagging a quick coffee. He’s upbeat – and the 28-year-old has every right to be. It’s only been a few months since he signed his record deal with Warner Bros., a contract he penned exactly a year to the day after he left Dallas to move to California.

For the past week, he has been in the studio revisiting a few songs off his EP and recording new tracks for Mystery Skulls’ debut album. The fact that Mike Elizondo, a musical journeyman who has collaborated or produced with everyone from Dr. Dre and Eminem to Regina Spektor, Mastodon and Tegan and Sara – wanted to work with him before anyone else is just icing on the cake. “It’s crazy to be here,” Dubuc said. “I’m in 2Pac’s old studio. The one from the All Eyez On Me documentary. It’s music history, and if you’re a nerd about that kind of stuff, it’s fucking cool.” But even with everything that’s going his way now, Dubuc knows it was an opportunity that couldn’t present itself until he moved out of the Big D. He’s quick to note leaving Dallas was never out of spite for the local scene nor for lack of growth. “Even though I was living in Dallas, I was always out here writing for people,” he said. “I would come out here and spend a week at a time. The more I would come out, the more I realized, ‘Oh, shit. I can be out here doing this all the time,’ and possibly make a : mysteryskulls living at songwriting.” : @MysterySkulls He still considers : mysteryskulls.com

Dallas to be his home. After all, it’s where his music career began. “Anyone who knows me, knows that I didn’t leave Dallas as a, ‘Fuck you,’” he said. “If you can do more damage and still be repping Dallas, what’s better than that?” His syrupy, pop-synth band, The Secret Handshake, swayed young teens for the better part of the late 2000s. But, before he posed for the covers of Alternative Press and played national tours, he cut his teeth here in D-FW. Producing his albums in his Dallas apartment and playing Rubber Gloves, 1919 Hemphill in Fort Worth, the odds and ends of Deep Ellum venues and scattered others across North Texas. He waxes poetic about living in his last place near Knox/Henderson, walking to Pearl Cup and living life between his last project Of Legends – a hardcore/metal group composed of other successful musicians from the Dallas scene whose main projects quietly dissolved – and Mystery Skulls’ success. His last show before the move was the Homegrown Music Festival in 2012. The show left him with some reservations about leaving. “I remember playing and thinking, ‘I can’t believe I’m leaving,’” He said. “I mean,

Photo provided by the artist.

Jesus – right as it’s getting good, right as people finally like it, I’m leaving. It felt counterproductive, but in the long run it was a good decision.” Fast forward a few months. Post-Dallas Dubuc finally hit onto something after scoring a coveted month-long, Monday night residency in Los Angeles. It was here that he would curate the opening acts and then headline the entirely free night. After each show, the crowds compounded and before he knew it, lines were forming around the block. For Dubuc, Los Angeles’ initiative takes out the biggest deterrent for people coming to hear new bands: Paying.

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Photo provided by the artist.

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“Dallas should totally have shit like that,” he said. “Free Monday night residencies for up-and-coming bands. The closest thing to something like that would be RC & The Gritz at The Door for a Wednesday night jam.” Dubus has no idea how things happened so fast. The packed residency shows, the record deal. There’s no secret formula, he said, just being in the right point where a dense population of people just enjoy the music he’s created. “There’s just more people in one place here. More scenes – more subscenes,” he said. “Imagine having Austin, Dallas, Denton and Fort Worth

all in the same place. Instead of being that hour, two-hour, three-hour divide, they’re all just right there.” He mentioned how Dallas was put on the map in the 90’s with bands like Polyphonic Spree and Drowning Pool but the city’s really waiting for that one big break to get people’s attention focused on the scene. “It feels like it’s on the crest,” he said. “When you read about A.Dd+, new Erykah Badu stuff, Kendrick Lamar. You think we’re on the fucking verge. So it’s a fucking great time to be a musician in Dallas.” Also, his newfound fame has him

booked for shows throughout California and has even gotten him on the bill for a show in the Hamptons with Chromeo, Adam Lambert and The Chic. Despite having been away from Dallas, he’s trying to make it back when he can. He’s been back for New Year’s shows already, and next year he’s set to make an appearance at SXSW. But he wants to make more proper Dallas shows happen in the future. “I’m excited to come back – I want to come back and play,” he said. “It’s definitely open ended.”

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MUSIC

ARTIST TO ARTIST

Transcribed and edited by Lee Escobedo Photos by Justin Mosholder

or this edition of Artist to Artist, THRWD brought together Ruth Ellen Smith, lead vocals and synthesizers for the Blackstone Rangers and one of our favorite wordsmiths, Tunk Arradondo, to chat at the Double Wide bar in Exposition Park. While drinking canned beers and sitting on toilets in the patio, Smith and Tunk chatted about their shared respect for each other’s sound, fucking up onstage and being broke in Dallas.

Tunk: How would you describe your sound?

Smith: I guess if we have to categorize our sound it would be distort pop or shoegaze, something that’s distorted but melodic enough to not be so far out there you can’t grasp it.

T: I agree. I liked what I heard, most definitely. Your bands project, Into the Sea, what’s your favorite track on that?

S: Hollyglen, just cause it has crazy synth stuff and it’s the most complex. We write a lot of songs that are really simple, honestly. T: Simple, but it gets the point across. And it jams. S: I like your stuff too. I like the words that you’re saying. You’re not saying anything too negative. I like that you came, not from some rich suburban family. You know what it’s like to work. Do you feel like it’s rougher because of that? T: Not really. I have a personal statement that goes, “If you don’t love the grind, you don’t need to be in the business.” Cause you have to work hard as well. I have to be honest, there were times I thought I was going to give up. But it wasn’t for the right reasons. It was just cause of certain shit that was going on and

T: Simple, but it gets the point across. And it jams.

S: I think every musician asks themselves at one point, “Does this suck?” or “Does my music suck?” To be critical of yourself is so important. So many people think, “I wrote this so it’s fucking awesome!” or it’s going to be good before they write it.

S: I like your stuff too. I like the words that you’re saying. You’re not saying anything too negative. I like that you came, not from some rich suburban family. You know what it’s like to work. Do you feel like it’s rougher because of that?

T: You have to be humble. There are too many people that feel themselves. Not saying you’re not supposed to feel yourself but if you go overboard you miss seeing the whole reason why you’re doing music in the first place. I say keep it one hundred and be humble and be open to suggestions. That’s what your critics are for. Don’t overreact and you’ll be alright.

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S: Hollyglen, just cause it has crazy synth stuff and it’s the most complex. We write a lot of songs that are really simple, honestly.

negatively. I feel like I don’t suck as a rapper and I can hold my own. As far as it getting rough, I’m a pretty easy going guy, I shake shit off. I’m alright.

T: Not really. I have a personal statement that goes, “If you don’t love the grind, you don’t need to be in the business.” Cause you have to work hard as well. I have to be honest, there were times I thought I was going to give up. But it wasn’t for the right reasons. It was just cause of certain shit that was going on and

negatively. I feel like I don’t suck as a rapper and I can hold my own. As far as it getting rough, I’m a pretty easy going guy, I shake shit off. I’m alright. S: I think every musician asks themselves at one point, “Does this suck?” or “Does my music suck?” To be critical of yourself is so important. So many people think, “I wrote this so it’s fucking awesome!” or it’s going to be good before they write it. T: You have to be humble. There are too many people that feel themselves. Not saying you’re not supposed to feel yourself but if you go overboard you miss seeing the whole reason why you’re doing music in the first place. I say keep it one hundred and be humble and be open to suggestions. That’s what your critics are for. Don’t overreact and you’ll be alright.

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S: Have you ever went to stage and just totally fucked up? T: I’ve messed up a couple of times due to being drunk and high. The last show I messed up at was the Devin the Dude show at The Granada. I fucked up on some words. I was really mad. My homeboys were in the crowd and they were like “Don’t get mad, just kill it!” I thought it was a shitty performance cause I fucked up once or twice.

S: Have you ever went to stage and just totally fucked up?

better. Not talking about quitting but I gotta really go in next time and execute. Have you ever played overseas?

T: I’ve messed up a couple of times due to being drunk and high. The last show I messed up at was the Devin the Dude show at The Granada. I fucked up on some words. I was really mad. My homeboys were in the crowd and they were like “Don’t get mad, just kill it!” I thought it was a shitty performance cause I fucked up once or twice.

S: I’ve never left the country before. I’ve played all over the country though. T: What’s been a favorite spot that had the best crowd?

better. Not talking about quitting but I gotta really go in next time and execute. Have you ever played overseas? S: I’ve never left the country before. I’ve played all over the country though. T: What’s been a favorite spot that had the best crowd?

S: Have you ever had a bad performance but everyone else was like, “You were great!”

S: Chicago was really good. Minneapolis is really fun. It’s weird everyone is really professional there. They give you a printed list of what you get paid, what everyone else gets paid.

S: Have you ever had a bad performance but everyone else was like, “You were great!”

S: Chicago was really good. Minneapolis is really fun. It’s weird everyone is really professional there. They give you a printed list of what you get paid, what everyone else gets paid.

T: A lot of people that I hang with respect what I do. Only a few get how I feel when I say I messed up, and I really gotta get

T: Nobody down here do that shit.

T: A lot of people that I hang with respect what I do. Only a few get how I feel when I say I messed up, and I really gotta get

T: Nobody down here do that shit.

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S: I never fucking get that here.

S: Can I come see you too?

S: I never fucking get that here.

S: Can I come see you too?

T: Not out here in Dallas. I had a question about the song, Frozen Echo. What inspired ya’ll to do that song?

T: For real?

T: Not out here in Dallas. I had a question about the song, Frozen Echo. What inspired ya’ll to do that song?

T: For real?

S: Do you know who David Lynch is? T: Nah. S: He’s a movie director. He had this show in the 90’s called Twin Peaks that’s really mysterious and ephemeral and out there and weird. You’ve got to watch it. It was mostly a lot of David Lynch inspired films and shows. He’s so dark but yet, not so dark you feel bad about watching it. I can relate to it too. He brings you into this dark realm, but it’s also pretty. T: Frozen Echoe is like, when you see a song title and you don’t know what it is, Frozen Echoe was everything I expected to be. S: Wow, that’s awesome. T: I went in kind of knowing what it may sound like, but it raised the bar on that. I really had a good time listening to it. I would definitely go to one of your shows.

T: Nah. S: He’s a movie director. He had this show in the 90’s called Twin Peaks that’s really mysterious and ephemeral and out there and weird. You’ve got to watch it. It was mostly a lot of David Lynch inspired films and shows. He’s so dark but yet, not so dark you feel bad about watching it. I can relate to it too. He brings you into this dark realm, but it’s also pretty.

S: I try not to look at the crowd, I’m afraid. When I perform I kind of turn inside anyways because my keys are that way, so I just kind of look off into space. T: What instruments o you play?

T: Frozen Echoe is like, when you see a song title and you don’t know what it is, Frozen Echoe was everything I expected to be.

S: Well for the live stuff I have two synthesizers. And we have a guitar layer and a drummer. Who makes your beats?

S: Wow, that’s awesome.

T: Everybody. LoneStarr, he’s from Dallas. And my number one producer Breeze, he’s from Brooklyn, N.Y., he produced my whole EP. I work with a lot of producers. I’m the type of guy, if I put out music, and people ask me where I get my stuff, I’m the type of

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S: Do you know who David Lynch is?

T: I went in kind of knowing what it may sound like, but it raised the bar on that. I really had a good time listening to it. I would definitely go to one of your shows.

S: I feel like I would be like, your drunk friend, “I know you! I saw you one time!” (Laughs) T: I have a habit when I’m on stage, I look around. On the first row I’m always looking around, picking out people to say shit. If you come to one of my shows I’m definitely going to shout you out. Like, “Ruthie’s in this bitch!” (Laughs) S: I try not to look at the crowd, I’m afraid. When I perform I kind of turn inside anyways because my keys are that way, so I just kind of look off into space. T: What instruments o you play? S: Well for the live stuff I have two synthesizers. And we have a guitar layer and a drummer. Who makes your beats? T: Everybody. LoneStarr, he’s from Dallas. And my number one producer Breeze, he’s from Brooklyn, N.Y., he produced my whole EP. I work with a lot of producers. I’m the type of guy, if I put out music, and people ask me where I get my stuff, I’m the type of

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guy to tell them. But then the music is going to sound like mine. So I change my style all the time. I show my versatility and raise the bar. Was Into the Sea your first project? S: Yea, we recorded it all at home on my MacBook. It was mostly a DIY kind of thing. We pretty much live and breathe music. I can’t think of anything else because I suck at anything else. T: The only reason I have a job is because my daughter and I need money in my pocket. If people haven’t noticed, I’ve taken a break from the music scene. I’ve raised my prices on my performances. I have a full-time job in the mornings. And around 2 p.m. I come home and go to a second job. S: Yea, I’m not at the point where I can’t wait tables and teach music on the side. T: I agree. Doing your album from scratch, I really applaud you for doing that cause it’s hard work. S: Yea. Do you think you’re in a certain area within your genre? T: I think I’m in the grey area. Dallas is one hell of a market. There’s so much money in Dallas.

S: Do you like Uptown? T: Where is that?

guy to tell them. But then the music is going to sound like mine. So I change my style all the time. I show my versatility and raise the bar. Was Into the Sea your first project?

S: It’s like the worst most horrible, fucking place in Dallas. It’s on McKinney. I was just wondering if you’ve been there. Dallas has so much going on. If you just go there it gives you the wrong idea of Dallas.

S: Yea, we recorded it all at home on my MacBook. It was mostly a DIY kind of thing. We pretty much live and breathe music. I can’t think of anything else because I suck at anything else. T: The only reason I have a job is because my daughter and I need money in my pocket. If people haven’t noticed, I’ve taken a break from the music scene. I’ve raised my prices on my performances. I have a full-time job in the mornings. And around 2 p.m. I come home and go to a second job.

T: My favorite venue I’ve ever performed at was Granada. Sound, microphone, they help you, very professional. S: Yea, they help you take your stuff inside and out. It’s a great venue. I really like the venues where it’s DIY. You’re not on a stage but in people’s face .And it’s crowded. Even though Granada can provide adequate sound, it’s still fun to be super close to everyone. Is there anything you listen to that you would be embarrassed about?

S: Yea, I’m not at the point where I can’t wait tables and teach music on the side. T: I agree. Doing your album from scratch, I really applaud you for doing that cause it’s hard work.

S: I used to listen to Master P. I used to think it was the hardest shit. You listen to it know you’re like “Fuck!” What the fuck were they talking about? Terrible. But they made money, went platinum, went gold, can’t knock the hustle.

S: Yea. Do you think you’re in a certain area within your genre? T: I think I’m in the grey area. Dallas is one hell of a market. There’s so much money in Dallas.

S: I like Britney Spears. I don’t love her. But that song Toxic, has really good production. And I would go to a Madonna or Lady Gaga show.

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S: Do you like Uptown? T: Where is that? S: It’s like the worst most horrible, fucking place in Dallas. It’s on McKinney. I was just wondering if you’ve been there. Dallas has so much going on. If you just go there it gives you the wrong idea of Dallas. T: My favorite venue I’ve ever performed at was Granada. Sound, microphone, they help you, very professional. S: Yea, they help you take your stuff inside and out. It’s a great venue. I really like the venues where it’s DIY. You’re not on a stage but in people’s face .And it’s crowded. Even though Granada can provide adequate sound, it’s still fun to be super close to everyone. Is there anything you listen to that you would be embarrassed about? S: I used to listen to Master P. I used to think it was the hardest shit. You listen to it know you’re like “Fuck!” What the fuck were they talking about? Terrible. But they made money, went platinum, went gold, can’t knock the hustle. S: I like Britney Spears. I don’t love her. But that song Toxic, has really good production. And I would go to a Madonna or Lady Gaga show.

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