Student-led Publication University of Auckland (non-staff * printers)
Artwork by Isla Turner
evana@behind-the-skin.com
@evana.infatuations2spew
hailey@behind-the-skin.com
Manifesto
We venture out to different parts of the studio, searching for peculiar artefacts of our lives
What does it mean to be political?
A week in Wellington, all the things it showed me
A conversation with artist Gillian Mathew about the art of seeing things
What is architecture?
Contributions Sophie Ossipova Henry Qiu
collaborate, share diverse creative processes
reaching out to the wider creative industry
vulnerable stories of being a student...
no prestige or discrimmination and to make others feel ofwho?
maintain a flat hierarchy (essentially, the lack thereof)
STUDENTSʼ
LEARNINGS
a platform for
theworkthat noonegottosee inside and outside of architecture!
we want to of students!
to tell stories
MANIFESTO
spread positive studio culture, constantly questioning the architecture pedagogical practices, and the students' relationship with, within it
showcase creative processes
be courageous
and
opinionated unboundedby fearofbeingcontroversial
the “dead ends” abandoned ideas
it’s okay to critiqueandourfeelings intimate, empathetic relationship
it’s in the study’s blood!
On one hand, the study of architecture is weighed by waves of organised chaos. On the other hand, its structure is held up by a rubric of rigid objectives. Amidst this, the students and tutors become extremely good at finding joy within the rubble of uncertainty. In this process, tensioned by the fun/worry, easy/difficult, academia/the rest of life, our learnings often extend beyond the scope of portfolio pages and pin up boards. Without a platform to tell these stories of failure and success, these learnings often remain undocumented. Since our blips of life-learnings have found no place to foot, we wanted to make one for ourselves.
behind the skin is a collation of our tried-and-tested findings, stories of failure before success, evolving thoughts and growing opinions. As we provide ourselves a reason to write more, to document more, to think more, and be more opinionated -- We wonder if more people will follow?
We are collectors of bits-of-life.
We encourage storytelling, that all things are woven to the community, to lives, and the world we live in.
We recognise the complexities of being architecture students, and we embrace its unique intimacy.
We recognise the value of a supportive studio culture, and the importance of encouragement and critiques.
We acknowledge that our inspirations come from a network of creative influences, and our artistic flares are never ours alone.
We embrace the power of student voice, that it wields world-changing force.
We promise to be courageous, to be controversial for the things that we believe in, to never be afraid.
These are our stories, and we want to hear yours too.
seven wonders of the studio
Our studio, arguably more than any space in the university, bears the traces of our lives. We eat, sometimes power nap under the table, and definitely stress out all the time about design in this space.
We venture out to di erent parts to explore the seven wonders of the studio, the peculiar, yet mesmerising artefacts of our collective habitation.
stfu. button (1)
Location: unknown
Medium: injection moulded plastic, masking tape, Uni POSCA marker, silly dog and her kind donation
Dimensions: 8x8x5cm
Curated by: Evana Chan
The studio environment creates an abundance of friendships and laughter.
So annoying, right?
With the STFU (Shut The Fuck Up) button, you can now concentrate on your design grind without the distracting noises of chatter and gos.
Like all good inventions, people have tried to claim it as theirs. The button is no di erent. It has been on numerous pan-studio trips, with or without consent.
It began its life when our dear friend Zoe brought her dog-training button. You know, the kind that dogs press to show o their communication skills? Let’s just say that Lulu (the sweet lady dog) had no need for it.
Our friend group recorded the synchronised phrase, “STFU!”. All 10 of us in unison, determined to begin our new life as productive members of society.
All was well. It was used sparingly, only for the most dire of situations. We wanted to respect the sacredness and lawfulness of the button.
Then, horror struck in the summer of 2023. Someone unknowingly removed the STFU button from its safe place, and discarded it in the materials bin.
Luckily, even an untrained eye can recognise the button’s value. Soon, the button was swiftly rescued out of its orphaned state by a group of master’s students. Whilst they had not known of the button’s epic beginnings, its historic scribes from the previous owners (us) showed them the correct course of action. Together the two of them, Calvin and Oli, recorded their voice — their “STFU”. This, marks their beginning towards the end -- the chase towards thesis submission.
Fortunately, news of the button’s latest home was wired to its inventors (us). Just a few months later when the master’s students graduated from the program, the STFU button was brought back to its first home.
Dear readers, it is with sorrow that I must interrupt this epic with a heart-breaking announcement. Since June 2024, the STFU button has been missing. Rumours say that the button was discarded, this time not even put into the materials recycling bin. If that is true, with great power comes great responsibility and one treacherous individual has decided to take it upon themselves to destroy a sacred artefact. However, since our group’s rebirth as productive individuals, we realise that hope is power. For that, we seek information for any sightings on the button. Please visit us on Level 3, at the bay closest to the Exhibition Space if you have any information.
Thank you.
shelf of shit (2)
The shelf of shit began with the purchase of Duck #2. Bought in the UK on a third year’s summer break, this duck took residence on the window sill of our bay.
Slowly, the duck began to acquire more companions, the shelf becoming more home to anything we found that made us laugh. Each having a story behind it
A 3D printed kiwi bird Yash had found.
Jamie’s (dare I say the most beautiful -Simon) side profile he used for Matt Liggins’ D5 paper: house for an artist.
Some random ladies out of NZ Herald that was used as paper mâché of a plaster casting mould.
A random accumulation of fruit people have brought to the studio and not eaten (gross, I know.)
A balloon stolen from a Birthday celebration.
A dog toy? (No one’s really sure how this one got here.)
Finally, some safety goggles - some claim these belong to a guy from DRH.
The shelf is always welcome to any items in the studio that don’t have a home, always open for new companions to join.
Be warned, however; no one really knows how these objects were transferred across to the window. Only the concrete beam in between with a sign prohibiting its access hints at its possible use as a footbridge...
exit sign (3)
Honestly, I’m not sure if anyone knows where how the sign was conceived, but that’s what makes it so interesting.
Scratched into the concrete with no real clarity about its purpose, it always makes me wonder why someone would take on the task of placing it in such a di cult place, and how on earth did they even get up that high?
Were they in hope of exiting the studio? Or purely a comedic gesture?
As I sit in the studio at 10pm writing this, I look up and laugh, maybe it’s really just a sign telling me that I need to be exiting studio.
A notion that sometimes we just need to take a step out of this architecture world? -or really that there’s no way out?
Location: level 3, design studio, front bay
Medium: laser jet print on white paper, miscellaneous fruits, rubber, plastic, 3d printed PLA
Dimensions: big enough to be a home for your shit
Location: level 3, design studio, front bay
Medium: chalk on concrete
Dimensions: standard exit sign dimensions- small enough to be dismissed easily, but impossible to ig nore at 10 p.m. at night
Curated by: Isla Turner
Curated by: Isla Turner
dennis the duck (4)
Dennis the duck began as a real-life game of Where’s Wally?
Once atop the dashboard of my friend’s car after being purchased second-handed, Dennis made the venture into the studio one day.
What Dennis didn’t know, however; was that his life was about to change forever.
Throughout the second semester last year, whoever arrived in the studio first had the task of hiding Dennis for everyone to try and find while we worked away preparing for crit.
Under the sink, on top of TVs, in people’s bags, Dennis became quite the adventurer, exploring parts of the studio we had never taken time to notice.
He began reaching new heights, sometimes becoming a question of how he managed to get where he was. Eventually, it became a challenge hiding Dennis in the most radical place possible.
Some could call Dennis a traveller, an explorer maybe. Until one day he reached the spot that was so iconic that he hasn’t moved since.
With the help of Logan’s crutches, a long piece of timber stolen from the workshop, and after a few attempts, he’s now found a place to call home, on top of the clock in the double height space.
Unlike the STFU button, Dennis has successfully survived both the summer and inter-semester clear out of studio, now sparking sudden joy to anyone that spots him balancing so carefully as time passes by.
nap station (5)
The studio has been accumulating random pieces of furniture and objects, either donated by someone generous or eternally forgotten by a traumatised thesis student who wanted to forget everything about the very existence of this space.
The striking light orange bean bag is one of the two bean bags that suddenly came into our lives. It has now become an integral part of studio life.
Who says the desk is designed for the ergonomics of a human body sitting by it? Its height only indicates a comfortable sleeping spot for an exhausted, under-slept architecture student.
Grab the bean bag. Crawl under the table. Put a jacket over yourself so your friends can’t catch your ugly sleeping face.
This is a square foot of utopia inside the studio. Ten minutes or half an hour, it doesn’t matter. By the time you wake from your power nap, you are fully recharged and ready to do it all again.
I live for a day, in the near future perhaps, when there is more than one sleeping spot in the studio, and everyone is having their siesta and then world peace is finally achieved.
Make sure you let someone know you’re sleeping under the table, though. Trust me, you don’t wanna be kicked in the head and lose any more brain cells.
Location: level 2, design studio, double-height space
Will there ever be a better recipe than this to produce the intriguing and creative work? Well, maybe add few spoons of stress and frustration. -actually, a bucket full of it.
...and some more.
Then you will get this absolute masterpiece of a brain-rot.
Situated in the rear bay of the studio, this whiteboard mural is a collective e ort, consisting of all the memes and brain-rots we consumed during the crit season.
This is our legacy, a record of our collective su ering, endless creative blocks, yet the very evidence of how much we love this space.
It also showcases our insatiable desire to create. Even if the very notion of it resulted us choosing this degree and made us su er (love) for it. The only way we deal with it is by creating. Isn’t it ironic? Oh well, that’s architecture students for you.
Location: level 2, Design Studio, Rear Bay
Medium: melamine whiteboard, countless layers of whiteboard marker ink
Dimensions: huge, but definitely not enough for our brain-rot
Curated by: Simon Jo
Location: level 2, design studio, rear bay
Medium: plastic, silicon, aluminium, stainless steel, proprietary co ee pods
Dimensions: big enough to fill up a 420mL tumbler, small enough to sit comfortably on a window sill
senior barista (7)
As an aspiring architecture undergraduate, you can never have enough ca eine to sustain late-night grinds. And that becomes even more apparent as we reach the end of the semester when sleep becomes an option than a necessity.
Last semester, a group of second years plotted to raise funds for a communal co ee machine to level up our studio game. Amid the conversation, one of them was reminded of his mother’s old machine that fell out of use and generously o ered to share it with the cohort. Since then, our trusty co ee machine has been conveniently installed on the dusty windowsill at the corner of the Level 2 Studio. And I occasionally witness my friends replenishing a tray with extra co ee capsules – a living testament to the thriving studio culture! As the co ee machine became an integral part of the community and the team decided to record its glory, I was granted the honour of extracting a cup of cappuccino.
But we might have overworked our only barista over the crit season.
While I was distracted by the view of the highway covered in fog after starting the machine, water silently began to puddle at the back of the machine. Soon, I was alerted of the situation by the water dripping on my shoe, and hastily stopped the co ee machine, only to end up with a massive pool of water to clean, and my tumbler filled to the brim with an o -white beverage that vaguely smelled like co ee.
According to its original owner, the machine first showed signs of a leaky tank crisis, and its condition quickly deteriorated. He also added that I was supposed to manually stop the machine on time since it was released before the auto-stopping technology was invented.
To show my respect to the soon-to-be-retired co ee machine, I emptied a bottle of bland andsomehow greasy cup of cold co ee (-ish drink).
Curated by: Hailey Kwak
It’s easier than you think!
“I’m not very political” is a phrase that’s easy to utter when conversations start to get spicy and opinionated, especially on hot and current topics. Yet, that phrase is often... a little bit false. In truth, it is more difficult to disengage from politics than to be within its realm.
During the formation of this journal, our team discussed whether it is right for us to talk about political matters. Being a journal on architecture and student-dom, one may argue that we have no business diverging from our primary topics. Yet, one may also argue that architecture and student-dom are inherently political.
Inherently political
A knight-ish description that is loved by academic, architecture nerds, and your fellow student activists. What does it mean to be inherently political?
Political
Noun
“Motivated by a person’s beliefs or actions concerning politics.”
Okay, it’s redirecting us. Let’s look at politics:
Politics
Noun
“The activities associated with the governance of a country or area, especially the debate between parties having power.”
True! That definition is certainly what most people think of when they hear the word politics. Whilst the fiery realm of governmental policy-making certainly interlinks with architecture (in practice, and in studies), surely its orbital relationship with the big and powerful government is not what people mean when they say that architecture is inherently political?
Moreover, must a topic only be political when it has been made into a governmental policy? I argue, certainly not! Just like how ethics continue to exist whether the present legalities have acknowledged them, issues can also be political whether they have officially been set into a policy.
The lack of policies, ironically, is political!
Some thoughts from Evana Chan | Graphics by Evana Chan
It’s easier than you think!
The lack of policies, ironically, is political! “ “
Now back to architecture and student-dom. Now that the definition of being political is expanded and loosened, the realm of architecture and the realm of politics are united. Why? How?
Here is a little rant (we love a good little rant). Fundamentally, to be political is to care about humans (who else are all these policies and space building for?) (no offence to anyone who did their thesis on animal architecture.)
And as architectural designers, there’s nothing we love more than to delve on how environments and objects alter the human bodies, human minds, and human behaviours. It is always Humans, The Collective, that drive our designs.
“Humans, The Collective!” I cry.
Consider other architectural pillars like materiality, site context, functionality, tectonics. All of these are examined in relations to how they make us feel, how they make us touch, and how they can meet our demands.
On another level, architecture and the manipulation of environments inevitably creates (spatial) hierarchy. To have hierarchy is to have directions, and in a three-dimensional world, being directionless is incompatible with mobility. The dictation of the built environment continues to exert unyielding power both in positive and negative directions. Specifications of dimensions also unavoidably specifies the types of bodies that the spaces are meant for. To detail, to create, and to design is to draw so many invisible yet hard-felt policies with every 0.2mm line.
That, is political.
So, while it is easy for us to utter “I’m not very political”, you’ve got to admit that it’s a bit of a cheeky lie. Instead, I wish for us young designers to flip this rhetoric on its head. Let us dive into these raw opportunities to discuss such issues, albeit intimidating and difficult topics, as a slow but important journey to deprive ourselves of ignorance... as much as we can anyway. It’s important to not disengage from politics because it feels far removed from our artsy designer world. Instead, I encourage you reading this to grasp just how much our pencil (or cursor) holds. Think about how you can use your light-saber-worthy of a pen to draw your powers for good, however that may mean for you.
Being political? It’s easier than you think. You’re already doing it.
Written and photographed by Simon Jo
Wellington, you’ve been on mind
a week in Wellington, and what I’ve seen
To study architecture isn’t simply to study how buildings come together� Architecture is one of the most fundamental expressions of society� The very concept of it simultaneously represents our independence and interdependence from the natural world� To study architecture, therefore; is to study the world� To see the world for what it is� To fall in love with it�
The first time I visited Wellington was when I was seventeen� I used up all my savings from high school parttime job to go on a two-week solo trip� Wellington since then, has left an indelible mark on me� Its people, its liberating waterfront, its busy bars and cafes, all suddenly pop into mind whenever I am struggling with the stressful Auckland life, wishing I was back there breathing in the cool �sometimes too cold� harbour air�
Now, returning after six whole years, halfway through my undergrad degree, I suddenly see so much more, the things that I had no interest back then as a teenager� The beautifully stitched fabric of the city is so gravitating, enticing my attention at every corner, every alleyway� One evening, I was at Midnight Espresso, editing my iPhone photographs that I had been incessantly taking� What surprised me though, was the lack of architectural features in them� Instead of the new BNZ tower or the new Tākina building, I had taken photos of the sticker-filled bathroom partition at Black Coffee, the job search board at my hostel, or the small pebbles inscribed with heart-warming messages at Owhiro Bay� I had been mesmerised by the traces of people without even realising, and that was what I was appreciating, taking in and recording�
We as architecture students often overlook the agency of people in building’s life� Architecture isn’t architecture until it’s inhabited by people� As our chatter fills up the atmosphere, our warm breaths condense the windows, as we leave fingerprints and marks on the walls and the door handles, as we cry and laugh in it, it then becomes architecture� Our congregation, our inhabitance, has just as much destructive, erosive, yet transformative force as does the rainfall or an earthquake� For the first time, I questioned myself what it is that makes me interested in architecture� As shocking as it may sound, it might not actually be the buildings themselves�
I have never been a skilled photographer� I never had the eye for it� But now, as I record the small, seemingly insignificant traces of lives, I am realising more and more that photography isn’t always just about spectacular subject or ten-thousand-dollar-cameras� It’s about the lens- no pun intended - it’s about seeing things that you’re in love with and sharing them in hope that somebody else will perhaps fall in love too�
And so, here’s what I’ve seen in Wellington�
Wellington, you’ve been on my mind
Wellington, you’ve been on my mind
Wellington, you’ve been on my mind
Wellington, you’ve been on my mind
findings from CCC
What is Architecture?
Me and Lukas have become good friends through the course of this degree, but as all good friends are, we are also the most competitive human beings who always have contrasting opinions and never stop disagreeing with each other. One time, we were walking past Eliott Hotel on Queen Street. I pointed out the signage on the East-facing façade and claimed it an architectural decision. Now, fervently insulted by this statement, Lukas claimed otherwise; that it is merely a graphic design decision. Carrying on with our argument uphill Wellesley Street, by the time we get to the top of the hill, we encounter a small give way sign. I observe how cars stop and go. I observe then how pedestrians react to the cars stopping and going. I then claimed the sign to also be an architectural decision. At this point, Lukas is absolutely not having it.
Lukas Milicic I personally look at it from the perspective of putting things into categories (as a language) to clarify between things. The reason why I like referring the sign of Elliott Hotel signage as non-architectural decision is purely from definition perspective to differentiate between the two. I gave an analogy that if we begin calling the signage an architectural decision, that is like saying that every fruit is just called fruit, and there is the problem of miscommunication. It’s like when you ask someone for a fruit and the person grabs me a grapefruit. But I actually want a banana, but there is no differentiation between the two. So, in terms of differentiating between design and architectural decision, the term itself is an important factor. Simon, you’re accepting the marriage of two terms because you think for us, as architecture students, it’s about accepting as many things as possible in order to let other things influence our design processes. I completely agree with your view, but me personally, I don’t need to call a ‘give way’ sign as an architectural design. I can still put it under a different sub-category and let it still influence my design.
Henry Qiu I agree. To me, architecture is combining material and structure and design something to promote a way of living. To me, architecture is something that can both be ethical and structural. I don’t think a give way sign is architectural because government (transportation
agency), by law, was required to put it there. But if we think about designing buildings, yes, we think about the building codes and regulations, but we don’t let these shape our designs. We choose to put staircase in, we choose to use concrete, timber because we want to make people feel certain way. But a give way sign can’t be an ‘ethical decision’ right? Give way sign is beyond design decision, it’s concerned with the management of the city, rather than making people feel- in the ethical sense.
Yang yang Liu But if that was the case, why have they (whoever was responsible) to put it specifically there? Isn’t that a design decision then? An architectural decision?
Lukas Milicic That’s something then I would call an ‘urban planning’ decision, not an architectural one. That alone says, if we have a specific category of urban planning and architectural design, graphic design, these subcategories exist for a reason. If everything was considered architectural design, it would be too broad, and everyone would be doing completely different things.
Yang Yang Liu You can also say that the architecture is a broader, umbrella term under which those subcategories exist. Like how a square a rectangle, but how rectangle can also be a square (although not all the time).
Simon Jo I liked Henry’s point about ‘intentions. Although we have to follow building codes and regulations, at the end of the day, what we’re interested in is how it all promotes a style of living like you said. That’s a really interesting definition to me because architecture is such a broad term for me. Architecture for me is anything to do with how space is experienced and how we manipulate these spaces to make such experiences. In that sense, give way sign to me is nothing but an architectural decision because it make cars stop at a certain point. Yeah, it could be concerned with the pragmatics of how the city is organised, and the traffic and blah blah, but ultimately, it’s to do with organising the spaces, and how we, as pedestrians (and as drivers), interact with it. For me, when naming something an architectural decision, it doesn’t matter what the designer initially intended, there is no causality between what was intended and what was being done, it’s just the end product. As long as it affects spaces and how
we perceive and act in these spaces, it’s an architectural decision for me.
Lukas Milicic So to you, architecture is anything to do with space and how that influence living things?
Simon Jo Yes.
Lukas Milicic So what would be the difference between urban planning and architectural decision for you?
Simon Jo I think as architecture students, we should expose ourselves to as many categories of architecture as possible. Just so we can get the broader understanding of what sort of impact different elements have on space. So, for me, as an architecture student, I’m interested in the placement of give way signs, the signage of the buildings because they collective produce the spatial experience (although it can vary from people to people.) I think considering things in a more architectural lens is an important practice for us. So, for me, at least this moment in time with my profession, I consider a give way sign an architectural decision because I can clearly see the impact it has on people.
Jowen Choy It all comes to semantics. In my head, design has a clear intent. Although something might have an architectural ‘implication’, like how a give way sign can make people stop and has impact on spaces, it doesn’t mean that architects deal with that, I think for me, architectural decisions are made by architects.
Simon Jo In defining the word ‘architect’, who do you consider an ‘architect’? Is it the people who are registered architects? Because it gets hairy when we get to that.
Jowen Choy I mean legally, you have to be registered to call yourself an architect.
Lukas Milicic There are two sides to it. You can be an architect by having qualifications, but there are also architects out there that don’t have qualifications. I guess there is almost a spectrum to it.
Jowen Choy I don’t think they are called architects then, they are ‘architectural
Simon Jo But that comes to the purely pragmatics and semantics, right? So, what is in the essence of what an architect is, is the question we want to ask ourselves.
Lukas Milicic I guess it circles back to defining what architecture is in the first place, if it’s the matter of acknowledging things in a broader sense. You said architecture can be anything about space, but can’t you say the same about urban planning as well? How would you differentiate the two? If you are defining architecture as like having an enclosed space or an ‘envelope’, there are many projects that fall outside of this definition. There are more sculptural projects, but still spaces that we can inhabit. But for urban planning for example like bridges, is that considered as space? Or is it something else, like a transportation route getting from A to B.
Simon Jo But in essence, it’s also space, right? I don’t think a bridge just works to transport A to B. It’s got so much more layers to it than just being a connector, even from an urban planning point of view.
Akira Gardiner I don’t know why we have to complicate it. For me, I think road sign is a concern of ours as soon as the land we are designing in is regarding it or overlapping with the road. I don’t think it should be a concern if it’s outside of our influence. I think with the brief we are given, everything within that plot of land is our responsibility, but I think everything outside of that is not. So, architecture can literally be anything, if given to us.
Simon Jo I love that perspective. As long as it comes down to us and is our job to design, it’s architecture.
Akira Gardiner Yeah everything can be, but it’s circumstantial.
Simon Jo So to you what differentiates architecture and urban planning is scale?
Simon Jo Yeah because are they are practising architecture as urban planners or vice versa haha. designers.’
Ava Shields I feel like urban planners are designing the puzzle as a whole, whereas architects are designing an individual piece. And you have to enlarge and reduce your sphere of responsibility depending on the project. Ava Shields That’s a great question because you do have architects who design masterplans.
Ava Shields Again, it comes down to the semantics. But I think if you’re an architect, you’re inherently an urban planner because you have to look at the urban context and the vernacular, so you’re kind of forced into it, but you are not responsible for these decisions. Same with urban planning, you have to think about the architecture and whether it’s going to fit into the designed spaces.
Akira Gardiner I think that’s the coolest thing about architecture though, we’re responsible for the smallest scale of the spectrum, maybe that’s the engineers, because I don’t think urban planners are taught how to design a room so they don’t have that capability but for us as architects, if we are to design in urban scale, we can do what the urban planners are designing, as well as the architecture itself. But then engineers can do architecture, but we can’t do engineering.
Ava Shields Oh I think we do a little bit of engineering.
*everyone laughing*
Is that what differentiates architects from urban planners? Like the engineering of the house in a smaller scale.
Akira Gardiner I think it’s a spectrum. Engineer = very small detail, architecture in the middle, and then the engineers. But they all bleed into each other.
Lukas Milicic That’s why I think it’s difficult to put a clear definition on it. That’s why there’s instances such as asking if a give way sign is an architectural decision.
Jowen Choy So things that are not given to you, you don’t have to worry about? But everything’s in a way given to us, and connected together, right?
Yang Yang Liu What Simon is talking about is a lens, like a perspective. He is romanticising architecture. So maybe it’s that way?
Simon Jo I think in a practical sense, Akira is correct. Anything outside of our project, don’t worry about it. But from the architectural lens point of view, I think to me, there’s certain beauty in considering everything relating to space, therefore architectural? So, doesn’t it mean we need to think about everything?
Akira Gardiner Yeah, if you have a plot and a view in front of it, or something with the environment that you want to focus on, that’s outside of your plot and you
don’t have influence on it, but you can still consider it?
Simon Jo In that sense, I guess you have two different senses of plot: one is a physical plot which you can manipulate, and one is the suggested plot where things are within your vision.
We Are in a Relationship, Conversation with Gillian Mathew
WE ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP
Conversation with Gillian Mathew
Gillian is an artist based in Cape Town, South Africa. Simon first met her at Toi o Tamaki’s weekly Friday live drawing session. In this interview, she shares with us about artistic voice, her creative processes and the way she interacts with the objects that are artefacts of lives.
Thank you so much again, for joining us for the interview. Let’s go through your work first, anything you want to tell us about.
I did book illustration in one of my previous lives.
Haha. How many other lives have you lived?
You know, as an artist - it’s hard - and I was so confused by my art education. I walked away [from my fine art education] so confused and I think what I wanted was a classical education. But in the early 80s, they weren’t offering that. We were encouraged to throw paint at the canvas. I don’t know if you know Karel Appel. It’s cool, if that’s what you wanna do. But if you wanted to
Gillian Mathew [GM] interview by Simon Jo [SJ] and Hailey Kwak [HK] on the 12th of July, 2024 GM
work more sensitively, and I think I did, but I didn’t know what I wanted to say.
I left my art education, and I was lost. I didn’t do any art for ten years. Then I was married, and I had a baby, and I was like okay, I need to get my act together. I thought I could draw, so I decided to get into book illustration. I kinda fell into this. I thought, how can I make money? so I did this for about ten years.
At the same time, I got a job working at the school [Waldorf School], and through the process of doing and teaching, I learned a lot. When you are born with the gift, you don’t understand that people can’t do. Then, I thought I’d really want to be able to teach and show people that they can actually do it. So that was an amazing education.
Figure 2. Gillian’s exhibition
We Are in a Relationship, Conversation with Gillian Mathew
But I still didn’t really know what I wanted to say. When I look at your [Hailey] work, it seems to me that you know what you want to say. She’s nineteen, and she has a voice. She has an artistic voice.
I’m glad you felt that, thank you so much.
It’s astonishing because I thought when I’m big, I’ll know what it is that I want to say. In 2008, my mum died. It was sad, but also it’s something we all go through in our lives where we lose people we love and are close to us. And then, I had her stuff. I was thinking what do I do with her stuff? I couldn’t really sell it, and I realised stuff has value, but it’s not always apparent.
When you see something, it has a story. If you inherit an object or furniture from your family, it’s a weird thing because it has an emotional charge to it. Maybe one of the things I could do is to draw it1, since I didn’t wanna keep it because it was a burden. I could draw it as a way to document, and I could move it along.
Both emotionally and physically, right? SJ
Exactly. That’s how I got into object drawings.
GM
Tell us about your exhibitions. I think I saw a poster on your Instagram page. SJ
I had my first exhibition2 in 2021. That was 10 years of work. This is a
GM
Figure 1. Untitled, scraper board
scraper board, and I brought you little pieces for you to try. These are all done on scraper boards. If you feel it, you can feel it’s got China clay on here. You can use sandpaper to make marks [on the painted ink], and you can scrape off with a knife, and it just makes the most divine mark.
SJ HK
Thank you for that, wow!
Thank you!
SJ
When you told me you work on scraper board, I had no idea what it was. What I initially had in mind, is that black paper you scrape off and you have the rainbow stuff under it.
I’m so excited about this medium because no one has ever heard of this. If you work with ink, some of the ink goes to different levels, and you don’t know what you’re gonna find.
I can see you have some more works there.
Yes, that’s exactly it! But with this one, you paint on one side, and wait until it’s completely dried and you can start doing whatever you want with it.
These are works I’ve been working on since I’ve been here [New Zealand]. I love pencil- it was my first love. I don’t know why. These are pencil drawings. These are jelly moulds I’ve found in South Africa3. I didn’t like them at first but they kinda grew on me.
We Are in a Relationship, Conversation with Gillian Mathew
This is so beautiful. I love how you captured all the stains and fingerprints.
Yeah. I think I came across a scientific article that says drawing has nothing to do with your ability to draw, it’s all about the way of seeing.
The thing is, I discovered a lot of the mark making, [especially] in the scraper board process, and it sort of transferred into my drawings.
What I find amazing about drawing is that it forces you to look. It really forces you to truly see. [Back when I was teaching] children would come into the classroom, and they’ve never really looked, and drawing encourages you to observe. The more you look the more you see. It’s a fascinating process for me.
Because they all see different things, right?
It’s amazing. I’d teach the same process, and not one student produced the same work.
Do you name the artworks, by any chance?
Of course, and then in the process of putting down in paper, it comes differently. You might not be happy with what’s there, but if you were a camera and just captured the scene, that fight would not be there.
The bigger the fight that happens on the page, for me, the more interesting the artwork becomes.
It looks like pearls!
Aluminium as a material is also something you wouldn’t normally relate with the idea of aging, it’s very water resistant and all. So, when I come across old aluminium, it looks like pieces of jewellery.
Like the inside of an oyster. It’s beautiful.
It’s old aluminium. Old aluminium fascinates me, there’s something about it that makes it feel like a three-dimensional drawing.
GM
I was advised to not worry about the background. But the background for me is where I sing. It’s where the freedom is. So, I thought I’m gonna work on some background! This was based on a photograph I took, of a soap and a dish4. It was an aluminium table as well, stained and old.
Figure 3. Untitled, pencil
Figure 4. Untitled, pencil
Yeah, haha, Untitled 1.
Untitled 372.
It almost feels like you don’t name them because in the process of naming them, you’re giving them the last breath of life, and they might fly away.
Are in a Relationship, Conversation with Gillian Mathew
I really had a problem, and I know that’s important. I had a problem with that in my exhibition.
I sort of just said what it was. I can see on Instagram that people choose amazing titles, but maybe that comes naturally.
I think, especially with young people nowadays, because we’re so addicted to instantly consumable contents, that our brains are always in overload mode.
I need to think about it more, maybe. The most important thing for me, is the process. I could never have done it in my younger years. I could never work on my own. I needed some kind of external force [pressure] to complete the work. It’s only been in the last ten years that I’d been able to settle down and be more mature. You guys seem like such go-getters. It’s so wonderful. He [Simon] is pulling a face, haha.
I don’t think I’m coping with it.
How do you cope with that? I would’ve been in outer space with those things.
I think when it comes to university, we instinctively know it’s more important, so we detach ourselves from it [brain rot]. But during the holidays, I can spend 7~8 hours in bed just wasting my life away watching it.
I think school is the external force that you talked about.
I have a few questions about the artwork. You mentioned how you started to draw to record the objects so you can discard them in the end. So, there is this clashing idea of preserving what is already there in terms of formal/emotional values, and then the idea of discarding to move them along.
I feel like that’s kind of similar to your medium [scraper board], layering up and preserving the layers, and excavate into them to discard those layers, I wonder how those principles of your artistic practice and the medium relate to each other?
You also mentioned how each object has stories. When I see these everyday objects, I label them as artefacts - artefacts of living because they are the solidified essence of stories and memories.
I’ve never made that connection, but you’re right. It is completely linked.
I think what I love to do is penetrating into what’s already there. When you see an object, it’s not just there, there’s something more to it. It has stories. So there definitely has to be link in taking away and finding out what that object is all about, like revealing the truth of the object.
We Are in a Relationship, Conversation with Gillian Mathew
Yes. It is like that. You know, the name of my exhibition was: The Problem and Power of Stuff. When I was growing up, I used to love seeing archaeological excavations in National Geographic magazines. That’s [archaeologist] another thing that I wanted to be. Then they would do those meticulous illustrations of them. I think artefacts in a way, is really feeling what I’m dealing with.
You mentioned archaeology, which is the whole process of your artwork, right? You dig into the layers that you’ve created.
SJ GM
Yes, haha, I never even thought about that.
SJ I find that so fascinating because when you find artefacts in the process of archaeological excavations, you don’t really get the fullest understanding of what those objects are made for? You almost reconstruct what they would’ve been for back then, assuming based on the scientific findings.
Looking at your exhibition photographs, you’ve shown us the set of drawings, as well as the objects placed on the table. To me, it almost seems like you’ve constructed new relationships with those objects, instead of them becoming burdens. Yes, they are artefacts of another’s life, but they are also subjects of your paintings. I wonder what happened to these objects after the exhibition.
Have you discarded them, or kept some of them?
It’s completely fine, and maybe that’s your creative vision or artistic voice.
Sometimes, in the process of painting these objects, I’m freed of the relationship. It feels like, it’s fine, I can move on. It seems weird to be talking about them as if they’re people.
To me, it seems like what you choose to draw, or your choice of artistic medium is almost an expression of how you look at the world and negotiate with the objects around you. So maybe the day you start drawing people is when you change your worldview.
Some objects lead me deeply in. After completing one painting, it doesn’t feel like enough. I feel like I want to do another painting in another light. But thankfully, most of the objects, I was able to move along, and I felt relief to not have those drawings anymore. It is a strange relationship. Then I meet another object, and I think I’m definitely gonna draw it, and then I suddenly don’t wanna have a relationship with that object anymore. But either way, I get to move along with the objects.
But then, I think, when am I ever gonna move onto drawing people? I look at people and I’m fascinated. I also felt like this [object drawing] was a preparation for the real thing. So, I’m not sure.
When you sell the artwork and give out the physical printouts, there must be a mixed feeling about handing the emotions onto people?
I love the phrase ‘live with it for a while.’ Us, as architecture students make lots of stuff throughout the semester. I have a massive model that takes up half of my desk that needs to be discarded one day, but I’m keeping it for as long as I can.
How you started with the additive process of putting something on the canvas, the paint-throwing stage, then you start the reductive process.
Do you think the different stages of your painting is how you explore the world of texture? Or did it begin in art school?
It’s funny because you must all have had similar experiences where you make something and give it away there’s that pang. In a sense, they feel like my children. I don’t think I can just do a drawing and give it away straight. I would need to live with it for a while, and then I’ll be happy to see it go away. There was one drawing that I thought maybe I’d want to keep, but actually, when someone said they wished to buy the drawing, it felt right.
When I was in art school, my nickname was chicken. I would put paint on, and I would turn the brush around, and I’d go scratching like crazy. When I do these things, I don’t usually think about it so much, so it’s amazing talking to you guys because I can articulate this
It’s a beautiful explanation.
You also talked about how you tend to draw background as well when you draw objects. I think that’s a beautiful practice. I feel like when objects are there by themselves devoid of any context, it loses its meaning as an object. Only when it interacts with the surroundings and establish the context, it becomes activated as an object. I find that process so enticing.
almost unconscious behaviour. So, it’s difficult to say exactly why, but I think I always wanted to know what lies beneath.
With people, I don’t do just superficial. I really want to get to know them. I call myself a drawer rather than a painter because after layering up the paint, I draw into it. By drawing, I mean removing, reductive, like you said. It’s like life, isn’t it. You put yourself out there in a world of relationships, and you get wounded, and you recover, you rebuild your confidence, but then something happens again, and you take a step back. So maybe, it’s that kind of correlation. I don’t know if I’ve answered you question entirely.
That’s so interesting because when you were talking about that, I thought of buildings. People interact with the building, like negative spaces, and the space between the people and objects, objects and the surrounding. It’s always a relationship. I think the bottom line is, we are in a relationship.
Your art as well, what you produced, I feel is never about the singular object. I think it’s more about how you interact with the object both emotionally and physically and you try to encapsulate that notion into a physical output.
I question, how objects can talk about relationships? Because relationships ultimately exist between people and environment.
Of course.
I’ve been thinking about what art should be. Everyone has different definition of what art is and should be, but to me, art is a relationship. It’s how you interact with it and how you think of it and that ultimately changes the way you live life. No matter how insignificant the art/object seems, it changes how you see the world, and that’s incredibly beautiful.
Exactly. It circles back to my definition of art. If you just create something for yourself and nobody else gets to see it, it might as well not exist right? Because it hasn’t left a mark in the world. You might intend your work to convey a particular message, but it’s never the case that the intention precisely translates to other people. They have different lenses and
I don’t necessarily intend for other people to be touched because I am touched, but I’m delighted when they are. Even if the artists work separately and in isolation, we want to be seen. We want people to see what we want to say. We might be shy and reserved, ultimately, we want to be seen.
the meanings they make of your art is constantly changing.
And then it becomes personal. I thought, who else is gonna be interested?
Yeah, but it can be just as personal to anyone else. I remember when we first met and introduced ourselves, you were hesitant to introduce yourself as an artist I wonder why that was because you have had a few exhibitions already.
Yeah, it’s reassuring to hear that.
Somewhat pretentious, right? In their ivory towers.
Yeah. I’ve contacted a few galleries before, but one got back to me and said we don’t like to exhibit this kind of art. To me, the artist title feels untouchable.
That’s actually fair enough. I feel like in order to introduce yourself as an artist, you must be able to define what art is to you. There are a lot of people in my year who introduce themselves as architecture students on their Instagram profile, but I just say I tell stories because I haven’t yet defined what architecture exactly means to me.
It’s only in the last few years after a couple exhibitions that I started introducing myself as an artist. Even then, I still feel uncomfortable. Maybe because I wanna be more approachable.
We Are in a Relationship, Conversation with Gillian
I love the idea of telling the story because I feel like, in a sense, that’s also what I’m doing. Not just objects, but also where they come from and their emotions. It speaks to me.
If you ever struggle to label yourself, you can call yourself an archaeologist.
I love it, thank you.
We genuinely value your time. It’s been amazing and I think we both took away a lot from this interview.
My pleasure.
Find Gillian and her lovely drawings on Instagram, @gillianloismathew
The Architecture of Happiness (2006), written by Alain De Botton, has incredibly changed our way of thinking and seeing the world around us. We were surprised that De Botton himself is not an architect, but perhaps, thatʼs why we found his perspective so fresh and valuable.
Weʼve summarised a couple points that stood out to us in the read.
Reviewed by Sophie Ossipova and Henry Qiu
OBJECTS SPEAK EMOTIONS
We cannot help but read our own dynamics into buildings and objects that we look at, and we are pleased when they express something desirable to us. The book talks about how a sphere is able to convey the movement of a baby or the respect fostered within us at the sight of a reliable pillar.
PEOPLE’S TASTES ARE FORMED BY WHAT THEY LACK
A few hundred years back, people wanted gilded frames and chandeliers to assure them of their wealth. Now, with mass standardisation and the advancement of technology, people are more inclined towards natural materials and bare walls as they are hard to come by. De Botton argues that our aesthetic desires are informed by our need to seek balance.
B O O K R E C !
“a piece of stone can have no legs, eyes, ears... it need only the merest hint of a maternal thigh of a babyish cheek and we will start to read it as a character.”
If you are interested in an phsycological insight into architecture from someone outside the field we strongly recomend you this amazing piece.
Barbara Hepworth, Two Segements and a Sphere (1936)
