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F O R I N S I D E R FA S H I O N A C C E S S: t H E w I N D O w. b A R N E y S . C O m



B ba ARn NEY yS.Co OM m

n NEw Y yo ORk

B b E v E R lY y h H iI l l S

B bo OSto On N

Ch H iI C a Ag o O

Da All a AS

la AS vEga AS

Sa An N FRa An N C iI S C o O

SCo Ot t S Da AlE

SEa At t l E

Contents DOCUMENT—FALL ���� / WINTER ����

Contributors and their Documents, No. 8 Automatic Watercolors by Jack Pierson, No. 10 “Pearls” by Justin Vivian Bond, No. 18 A Musing by “Our Lady of Punk,” Edwige Belmore, No. 22 A Conversation on Cuba’s National Art Schools, Moderated by Charles Renfro, No. 25 A Poem by Glenn O’Brien, No. 30 A Very Short Interview with Toilet Paper’s Maurizio Cattelan, No. 32 To Desire: 10 Rare Art Books on New York, No. 34 Te�te-à-Te�te with Joey Arias and Jake Shears, No. 36 Designers Eckhaus Latta, Interview by Troy Chatterton, No. 40 Zebra Katz, Interview by Jake Yuzna, No. 43 A Holli Smith Hair Interview by Kim Ann Foxman, No. 44 An Exclusive Nir Hod Portfolio, Interview by Amy Phelan, No. 46 Kodi Smit-McPhee, Interview by Briallen Hopper, No. 52 A Mini-Retrospective of Erwin Blumenfeld, by Vince Aletti, No. 58 Maripol Photographs, Styled by Hanne Gaby Odiele, No. 64 Francesco Vezzoli on the Cover, Interview by Daniele Balice, No. 76 “The Three Deaths of Pier Paolo Pasolini,” by Tijana Mamula, No. 82 Photographer and Musician Bryan Adams, No. 84 Wang Shu Speaks to his Pritzker Prize, Commentary by Aric Chen, No. 86

On the CoverS

Kellan Lutz photographed by Jeff Burton. Styling By Maryam Malakpour at CLM. Kellan Wears a zipped knit by Giorgio Armani. Hair by Jesse Taylor for Nine Zero One Salon and Wella Professionals. Makeup by Chauntal Lewis for Nine Zero One Salon and Smashbox. Liya Kebede photographed by Collier Schorr. Fashion Director James Valeri. Liya wears a black leather coat by Alexander Wang. Hair by Deycke Heidorn at See Management. Makeup by Gucci Westman at Art + Commerce.

Isaac Mizrahi, Interview by Troy Chatterton, No. 90 Women’s Collections by Paul Wetherell, Fashion Director James Valeri, No. 98 Men’s Collections by Catherine Servel, Fashion Director James Valeri, No. 110 Men’s Fashion by David Armstrong, Styled by Trevor Stones, No. 127 Nudes by Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello, Styled by Chloe Kerman, No. 136 Women’s Fashion by Bela Borsodi, Fashion Editor Sabina Schreder, No. 142 Artist Stephen Posen, Interview by Tim Goossens, No. 154 Architects Aranda/Lasch, Interview by Felix Burrichter, No. 158 Kellan Lutz on the Cover, Photographs by Jeff Burton, Interview by Jeremy Kinser, No. 163 Liya Kebede on the Cover, Photographs by Collier Schorr, Interview by Pierre Alexandre De Looz, No. 172 Men’s Fashion by Carlotta Manaigo, Fashion Director James Valeri, No. 182 Beauty Portfolio by Miguel Reveriego, Beauty Editor Tara Poesy, No. 190 Kenzo Special by Paul Maffi, Styled by Vanessa Chow, No. 198 Oil Painting on Linen by Rene� Ricard, No. 204 Women’s Fashion by Sophia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello, Fashion Editor Samuel Francois, No. 206 Artist Maurizio Anzeri, Interview by Mariuccia Casadio, No. 220 Hair Portfolio by Collier Schorr, Fashion Editor Jodie Barnes, No. 224 Photo Essay by Benjamin Alexander Huseby with Rein Vollenga, No. 240 “Infidels,” Fiction by Abdellah Taia, No. 250 “Two Pictures,” Essay by Cynthia Zarin, No. 254

On The Covers

Francesco Vezzoli Portrait Of My Mother As Princess Albert De Broglie, Nee Josephine-EleonoreMarie-Pauline De Galard De Brassac De Bearn (After Ingres), 2012. Inkjet Print On Canvas, Metallic Embroidery, Velvet, Custom Jewelry. Courtesy Galerie Yvon Lambert, Paris. Liya Kebede photographed by Collier Schorr. Fashion Director James Valeri. Liya Wears a white leather shirt by Hermès. Hair by Deycke Heidorn at See Management. Makeup by Gucci Westman at Art + Commerce.


Laurie Simmons’s Sex Dolls, Interview by Stephen Frailey, No. 94

Editorial Director & Publisher Nick Vogelson Creative & Fashion Director James Valeri Editor Pierre Alexandre de Looz Associate Editor Troy Chatterton Director of Strategy Alyssa Bishop Contributing Editors Mariuccia Casadio, Charles Renfro, Felix Burrichter, Maripol, Jordan Heller, Eva Munz Editors-at-Large Ricky Clifton, Thomas Rom Associate Managing Editor Rachel Pidcock Art Advisors Daniele Balice, Myles Ashby Literary Advisors David McConnell, Darrell Crawford Copy Editor Mary Cucci Contributing Fashion Editors Sabina Schreder, Samuel Franc¸ois, Jodie Barnes Beauty Editor Tara Poesy Casting Consultant Daniel Peddle and Drew Dasent, Daniel Peddle Casting Fashion Assistant Paul-Simon Djite Fashion Intern Sean Santiago


Art Direction Townhouse Creative Typography Commercial Type Production Director Kevin Roff Art Assistant Marissa McClain Damiani Andrea Albertini Distributed Art Publishers Alex Galan Contributing Artists Collier Schorr, Francesco Vezzoli, Jeff Burton, Jack Pierson, David Armstrong, Paul Wetherell, Catherine Servel, Benjamin Alexander Huseby, Maurizio Cattelan, Pierpaolo Ferrari, Rene� Ricard, Maurizio Anzeri, Nir Hod, Miguel Reveriego, Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello, Maripol, Carlotta Manaigo, Bela Borsodi, Paul Maffi, Joshua Scott, Alice O’Malley, Ellinor Stigle, Hazel Hankin, Benjamin Fredrickson, Chloe Kerman, Trevor Stones, Luke Storey, Dianna Lunt Contributing Writers Glenn O’Brien, Vince Aletti, Jake Shears, Justin Bond, Briallen Hopper, Edwige Belmore, Daniele Balice, Amy Phelan, Tim Goossens, Aric Chen, Stephen Frailey, Alexander Aciman, Abdellah Taia, Cynthia Zarin, Jake Yuzna, Jeremy Kinser, Kim Ann Foxman, Tijana Mamula Document Journal is a book series published semi-annually in the Fall and Spring by Document Publishing LLC and Damiani. The first book in the series is ‘The Originals.’ For all inquiries, e-mail

via Zanardi, 376 40131 Bologna, Italy t. +39 051 63 56 811 f. +39 051 63 47 188 ISBN 978-88-6208-259-4

ISSN 2280-8701

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical—including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system—without prior permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in July 2012 by Grafiche Damiani, Bologna, Italy Document No. 1 September 2012 Copyright © Document Publishing LLC

Life is different on paper and, on paper, different lives begin to commune in ways they can’t in the everyday world. We are that common Document. We are collectible but not consumeristic, an intimate moment, a pause for inspiration, a blending of viewpoints with a variety of aesthetics and backgrounds that share a similar fascination: Beauty. This idea came together much faster than anyone could have anticipated. We started discussing Document last spring with a handful of contributors: Jack Pierson (‘Automatic Watercolors,’ No. 10), David Armstrong (‘The Still of Morning-After,’ No. 127), Collier Schorr and Holli Smith (‘Arresting Youth,’ No. 224) and Maripol (‘As the Curtain Rises,’ No. 64). Before long, we convinced editor Pierre Alexandre de Looz this was a project he needed to be a part of, along with Alyssa Bishop, Troy Chatterton, Kevin Roff and Rachel Pidcock. We are indebted to architect Charles Renfro, who shared untold stories of the unfinished National Art School near Havana, considered the pinnacle of revolutionary architecture and built under Fidel Castro and Che Guevara (‘Marvels from the Mist,’ No. 25). To the incomparable Edwige Belmore (‘Our Lady of Punk,’ No. 22), who had ’80s Paris under lock and key, and to the magical diva of the NY underground, Joey Arias, in a te�te-à-te�te with Scissor Sisters’ Jake Shears on the ever-changing face of our home ground, New York City (‘La Traviata Rising,’ No. 36). Hearty thanks to Vince Aletti, who sifted through the archives of the late Erwin Blumenfeld, the lensmen behind some of the most mind-bending Vogue covers of the ’40s and ’50s (‘Blumenfeld Uncovered,’ No. 58). To Liya Kebede, who has been the face of some of the most iconic fashion covers of the past decade (‘Creative Agency,’ No. 172), to artist Francesco Vezzoli, who has turned from his celebrity fetish to a new artistic focus on his mother (on the cover and ‘Oedipus Rex,’ No. 76), and to Kellan Lutz, who posed for our cover, photographed by Jeff Burton, during a painting session with Don Bachardy (‘Soul-Symbol,’ No. 163). We’ve been humbled by the artists and contributors who have made this inaugural Document manifest. Nick Vogelson & James Valeri



Editors’ Letter


original documents

We asked our contributors for some of their most important documents.

benJamin aleXander huseby “The photo of my great uncle Jørgen at his small farm Storsvebakken in Norway shot in the 1970s (even though it looks older). I remember when I grew up they had no tractor or combine harvester and used pretty much the same farming technics as a hundred years before.” mariuCCia Casadio “1989: the early days of Vogue Italia by Franca Sozzani. Experimenting my vision of contemporary art on glossy paper. Side by side with Fabien Baron and thanks to Franca’s genial intuitions.”

Cynthia zarin “A crumpled napkin circa 1982, from the Blue Bar at the Algonquin, a torn copybook page (lines and dashes) with cat, mat, and sat written in pencil—some places the pencil pierced the paper (circa l996)—thirty-five years older, a list, also handwritten: owl, moon, ukulele, unicorn.”

franCesCo vezzoli “This Charming Man” by The Smiths I would go out tonight / But I haven’t got a stitch to wear This man said ‘It’s gruesome / That someone so handsome should care...

JaCK pierson “I’m rather fond of this screen capture I found on my phone”

david armstronG “The most valuable documents I posess are the inscribed suicide notes of two very dear and very different friends. Momento Mori of two New York stories. I still miss them both so much.”

sabina sChreder “Here is my driver license—it always amuses me when I look at it because I still use it, but it is me so long ago. In Austria you have the same license all your life, if you don’t lose it.”

Samuel Francois

OdielE Photograph by Benjamin Fredrickson. Casadio photograph by Luca Stoppini. double portrait of Vezzoli by Francesco Scavullo.

“A ‘dedicace,’ I don’t know the name in English, which a very good friend of my parents wrote to me on a book, to introduce me to the French poet Guillaume Apollinaire, it is a poetry book called ‘Alcools.’ The sad thing is that this person died very shortly after; he was kind of my hero, drug abuser, very poetic, a 70’s mad person, he introduced me to Fassbinder and decadence when I was a teenager, and his notes ends with “Lots of love and comets for 1989.”

Sofia Sanchez & Mauro Mongiello

“The negatives and polaroids of our first pictures taken together in Argentina more than 10 years ago!”

Jeff Burton by Don Bacardy

Hanne Gaby Odiele Hanne Gaby is one of the top supermodels of the 2000’s who also happens to have a great personal style. She exclusively styled “Document No. 64” with iconic photographer, Maripol.

Ozzy Salvatierra “A card from my first birthday away from LA, alone in NYC. Every time I feel homesick or blue I read the messages my parents and brothers wrote. I know that I have unconditional love, support and a family that believes in a dreamer and his dreams.”

Charles Renfro

Miguel Reveriego “The most important document I have is a picture of my family in which I must be 2 months old and my mum is carrying me in her arms, this is always with me. No matter what we do, no matter where we go, we can never forget where we come from.”

Collier Schorr

“A ConEd refund sent to Richard Prince while he was living at 303 Gallery. The check was sent to his studio on 12th St, where I was living at the time.”

“The document that most confounds and excites me is my passport. Across the middle folds are face offs between some of the world’s most notorious enemies: Israel faces Lebanon; China against Brazil (OK, maybe not enemies); the UAE touches everyone. I’m sometimes worried that the next world war will be inside my coat pocket! On the other hand, can’t my passport be a model of world peace?”


document no. 10

This is what came out when I did not have a plan or did not say no to an impulse. Asemic watercolors done under a spell. An amusement on a summer morning, hopefully a less studied version of my “branded” creativity. It had been awhile since I was involved in old-fashioned hand work and I thought it would be helpful to “free my mind” if I sat and painted a little each day. Yoga for the brain. By Jack Pierson


Courtesy Cheim & Read, New York.


Automatic Watercolors




“VOODOO,” 2012.



“ZAP,” 2012.


“ABSTRACT #2,” 2012.



Pearls, After the Death of An Anointed Queen By Mx Justin Vivian Bond Portrait by Alice O’Malley I don’t really know where this pearl soundtrack comes from—the incessant clattering abacus of softened themes and time signatures in my mind. One strand. Two. Three…¶ First ladies. Signature Pearls. Oftentimes I’m at a loss for words or forethoughts and in hindsight I find the complete intractability of my imagination to be not only a handicap, but also a misfortune. Of course there are ways of rewarding oneself for falsely imbuing the future with a golden, rosy glow. But the real test comes from a finer and more gently teased mist; the kind that comes from an otherworldly glow, moon glow; the diffuse reflection that comes from a light shining directly into the whites of someone’s blackened eyes, in fog. ¶ Diffusion is one of the best words that can be applied to the velveteen visual softness of a pearl. Maybe they begin with a grain of sand, but to me they end up looking more like creamed-up dust. Creamed-up dust. That phrase could be used to describe other things too…like a hooker past her prime: The old whore was in her riggings, wobbling idly past the would-be suitors, looking like nothing more than a pile of creamed-up dust. Gold dust. Mining for a lost pastime or a time long past. History buffs. Histories buffed and burnished. Nightstands. Pearlescent nails polished on the ball and claw rotunda that supports her vanity table. The creamed-up dust of last night’s revelries, seeping, seeping…¶ Now there’s a word. Seeping. That word brings to mind a kind of benign conjunctivitis, doesn’t it? Why don’t they just call the discharge from conjunctivitis conjunction? The discharge from the flaming pink eye was the seepage binding together the upper 18

GOES HEREKnit Dress by Mandy Coon. Blazer by Parkchoonmoo. Leather heels by Phillip Lim. Stylist Dianna Lunt at Art Department. Assistant Regina Chain Lai Wan. Hair andGUTTER MakeupCREDIT Harumi Machii.


document no. 18



Photography by Joshua Scott. Pearls by mikimoto.


and lower lids. Seepage as conjunction. Conjoined eyelids. The ocular Chang and Eng. Ocular rosacea is anything but seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. With ocular rosacea, you get burning gritty eyes, bringing me back to the pearl and creamed-up dust. Pearl would be the perfect name for the old whore. Janis Joplin chose that name, that persona, for her last record, Pearl. ¶ Busted flat in Baton Rouge. Thank you Kris Kristofferson, pretty baby. ¶ Her eyes were like oysters. That’s not a phrase you’ll find in poetry too often. You wouldn’t write that to someone you were trying to woo: My Darling, your eyes are like oysters…¶ Would you say it about yourself? Maybe, if you were suffering from Ocular Rosacea. My eyes are like oysters. My eyes feel like oysters, gritty churning mollusks brimming with irritants. A sight for sore eyes. Clams. Mussels. Pearl oysters. Pearl sacks. Freshwater, saltwater, natural, cultured, anything, but imitation. No imitations. Only certified bivalves will be seen. ¶ Nature or nurture, Mother of Pearl. I wouldn’t trade you for another girl…Thank you, Bryan Ferry, I’ve been up all night, again. ¶ My cat, Pearl, sent me on an errand, told me to pick up some cat food at the store, around the corner. They didn’t have Kitty Gourmet so I loaded up on Fancy Feast. On my way home, I was set upon by four wastrels. Bottom-feeders. Attacked. I felt my throat tighten, my breath was hot, the inside of my nostrils smelled of sulfur. All too suddenly I was thinking of the many times this had happened before. Anger, fear, muscles tensing—fight or flee—adrenaline kicking the cans, up, up and away, causing the additional formation of yet another layer of calcium carbonate. Every time the wrong guy says the wrong thing, he brings the past back and adds on one more layer of flinty, phosphorescent



myalgia to where it lies in wait. Cyclically, cystically, just beneath the skin. Buried gently, almost innocuously somewhere within the psyche. ¶ Maybe that’s what happened to Janis. Only for her, the Pearl was a record that came out too late: after birth, after death, no rewards and no redemption. A latent Pearl. The Very Late Marilyn Monroe: Happy Birthday, Mr. President. Translucence. Calcite. Aragonite. Play me a sad song on the conchiolin…¶ Don’t forget me. When we’re old and full of cancer…Thank you, Leonard Cohen, tender troubadour. ¶ String me up like a pearl on the moon, a simple platinum strand to bind me. Starlit glamour; my makeup consisting only of lacrimation, crystalline tears, regrets, recriminations. The lachrymose whore. The junkie’s revenge. The judgment of the moon and stars. Pearl river, mooning over Monroe. Moon Over My Hammy. 24-hour breakfast at Denny’s. ¶ Have you ever stopped to consider what pearls mean? Purity? Transformation? Try reading John Steinbeck’s The Pearl, that’s a real toe-tapper. The Pearl of the World. Too late to throw it back in the ocean. Can’t save the baby, it’s been gunned down by greedy thieves. Don’t try this at home. Don’t give what is holy to the dogs. Do not cast your pearls before swine. Thanks, Jesus, for the great advice. Blanche DuBois didn’t take it. Neither did Marilyn or Janis. ¶ Pearl is a singer. Minnie Pearl. Pearls of wisdom. Pearl necklace. Pearl Jam. Crème de la mer. Pearl’s at home waiting for her Fancy Feast as I lay in the gutter gestating yet another pearl, another luminescent layer formed amongst stimulating irritants, blind alleys, old wounds, the frailty of innocents and the strand of a song that accompanies the dimming vision of a dying queen. ¶ Mollusks…¶ The soft things.

document no. 22

Our Lady of Punk

Edwige Belmore grew up behind convent walls and became the passkey to Paris’ legendary punk scene.

“How did I become the ‘Queen of Punk’ in Paris? Well, it’s actually quite funny. It just kind of...happened. I had nothing to do with punk rock or the whole punk scene but I guess I was at the right place when everything just exploded. I was only 20 years old, but I thought, why not. This will be a new start for me—my rebirth. The magazine Façade was doing an issue about art and the punk scene in Paris. They wanted Andy Warhol on the front cover. Andy at the time was known as the ‘Le Pape du Pop,’ but he needed a queen. And there I was. So the story became “‘Queen of Punk’ meets the ‘The Pope of Pop’.” And bada bing, it was done. That’s what I remember. Thirty years later, it still sticks to me. I love it. Before Façade, I knew I was into style, but I’m not going to say fashion because really I didn’t know anything about anything at the time. Punk wasn’t about money or clothes though, it was an attitude. We were this fierce gang that included Loulou de la Falaise, Paloma Picasso, Yves Saint Laurent and a 16-year-old named Christian Louboutin. It wasn’t about who you were or what you wore; it was how you wore it. The Façade cover propelled me into this punk scene and I found a home there. When Fabrice Emaer asked me to work the front door at Le Palace, he told me “Mon bébé d’amour, this is your home. You decide who comes in and who doesn’t. This is your house.” That was mind-blowing to me—I grew up in a convent, I never had a real home before. And suddenly there I was at 20 years old, with three bodyguards on either side of me, deciding who got to come into my house. Le Palace was amazing. It was the most intensely beautiful and crazy place to be in those days. We were the Studio 54 of Paris—something that has no equal today. It was a wild time; music and fashion were just exploding and there I was, watching the crowd invade the street. Karl Lagerfeld mentioned in his book that I once refused the King of Sweden because…obviously, he must have been an asshole (excuse my French). The rebirth was complete.” ¬



By Edwige Belmore photography by Ellinor Stigle





document no. 25

Marvels from the Mist

A revolutionary incubator resurfaces: architect Charles Renfro questions a controversial renaissance.


The National Art Schools may be the most famous, albeit unfinished, architectural legacy of the Cuban Revolution. Envisioned by Fidel Castro and Che Guevara in 1961, the 5-building complex was built with a surge of collective optimism in an ideal setting at Cuba’s formerly luxurious (and exclusive) Country Club Park. Their vision was grand: the National Art Schools were meant to house more than just artists, to be the physical embodiment of a national pride. Their architectural conception would be completely new; a style the People could call their own. Architects, Ricardo Porro, Roberto Gottardi, and Vittorio Garatti were tasked to create unique designs for each of the five structures, each imbued with the ideals of the Revolution.  As favor and funding for the project declined, construction lapsed, leaving the five buildings in varying states of development—all unfinished. The buildings have since attracted a cult following of admirers, championing their resurrection.  Now, over 50 years later, Cuba’s National Art Schools have once again returned to the limelight after news that Pritzker Prize winning sir Norman Foster, of Foster and Partners, will resuscitate the School of Ballet to serve as a sports complex for Cuban ballet star, Carlos Acosta.  Charles Renfro discusses the inspiration, early retirement and renewed future of the National Art Schools with original architects, Ricardo Porro and Vittorio Garatti, who together designed four of the five structures. Charles— Both of the buildings you designed as part of the National Art Schools employ narrative and metaphor. With the Modern Dance school, you compare the asymmetrical plan to sheets of broken glass, a metaphor for how the revolution shattered the old order. At the School of Plastic Arts, you designed the urban complex to resemble, and even function like, an African tribal village. Ricardo— My conscious metaphor in Plastic Arts wasn’t an African village, although I was very pleased when I learned you saw it that way. A work of art­—architecture remains one of the fine arts—is open to many interpretations. I wanted to express Cuba’s very rich black culture which architecture had never officially reflected. I conceived of the school as an image of Ochun, an African goddess of fertility—which is an image of creation for art students. Charles— Poetic starting points were certainly not the way architects at the time designed the International Style. Functionalism was the name of the game; forms were stripped down to abstract and pure representations of themselves; structure looked like structure, windows became curtain walls; it was anathema to have any part of a building resemble something other than itself. Ricardo— I agree. When I was a student at the School of Architecture in Havana, I was one of a small group of students defending the International Style against the French Beaux-Arts teaching. My first building, a house in Havana, was Miesian.  But, the Art Schools were the first project I conceived from a radically different point of view. I’ve been working like this ever since.  Charles— One of the developments during the International Style movement was the application of ‘open plan’ and reconfigurable spaces for everything from office buildings to



Interview By Charles Renfro photography by Hazel Hankin


museums. In many ways, reconfigurable architecture made particular sense for art schools where neutrality of space might be considered the most appropriate vessel for the work being done inside. One thinks of Craig Ellwood’s Miesian Art Center College of Design in Pasadena, CA. Constructed just over 10 years after your Plastic Arts School, it clearly subscribed to a different theory of art education. Ricardo— I totally disagree with the idea that a neutral, sterile space can be appropriate for expressive work. An artist may react by appreciating, admiring or hating the space, but they won’t be indifferent. The many Cuban painters and sculptors who studied at the school have produced their own work, each different from each other and different from mine. Many have told me that living and working in the midst of the art campus stimulated their creativity. Charles— Do you still believe that idiosyncrasy and poetry are essential aspects of buildings made for arts education? When I visited your Plastic Arts building for the first time, I was almost moved to tears by how it unfolds and progressively delivers experience, like a great piece of cinema. And yet, I can imagine a student sometimes not wanting to be in that movie. How does a project like your Plastic Arts building adapt to new forms of artistic creation, say video and sound work, which were not around at the time of your design? Can architecture be neutral and specific, universal and local, at the same time? Is that even desirable? Ricardo— Beauty and meaning—therefore poetry—are essential in all architecture worthy of the name, whatever the style and location. This does not mean buildings have to be figurative. Both qualities are present in the work of Mies van der Rohe as well as the work of Antoni Gaudí. As far as new media is concerned, say video and sound, the necessary equipment could probably be housed in the existing classrooms. The vaulted studios were conceived for painting and sculpture, which I hope are still living arts. Furthermore, I believe it’s an illusion to think that buildings can be conceived for all unknown developments. Architecture is never neutral. It can and should be specific, universal and local. Charles— The National Art Schools were paradoxically designed to be both modern and traditional. They predated the Critical Regionalism movement by decades, already addressing some of the local and experiential shortcomings of Modernism. Most of the five projects employ an expressive aesthetic very much out of favor with the hot architects working after WWII such as Gordon Bunshaft, Eero Saarinen and Mies van der Rohe. In addition, most of the projects employed locally made brick assembled with local labor, using local building systems (here, the vault) and working the land with an ingrained knowledge of the Cuban climate which delivers flash flooding and hurricane force winds. Vittorio— The National Art Schools, which were named a national monument in 2010 and which UNESCO is considering for World Heritage status, require some context to understand. They were born from the idea that Fidel Castro and Che Guevara had of transforming the exclusive Country Club of Havana (so exclusive that not even Fulgencio Battista, Cuba’s president and dictator before Castro, could enter because of his mixed race) into a cultural center for the arts education for the third world. This idea was connected with a campaign for literacy, which followed the birth of not only art schools, but also many other educational centers. The form that characterizes the Schools of Art is not a stylistic choice, but rather the result of a method informed by different factors: the environmental, cultural and social context of those years, Cuba’s important musical tradition, Wifredo Lam’s paintings, Cuban dance and especially the Revolution. All this was in addition to the economic analysis and other factors. I developed this method with Sergio Baroni during the time we were teaching at the Caracas Central University, Venezuela (based on the lesson imparted by Architect Ernest Nathan Rogers). The decision to make five separate schools and not one building was dictated by the leaders of the various professions. Everyone wanted his or her own building. So we decided to place them on the edge of the Country Club to avoid spoiling the magnificent park and to take advantage of the existing ring road. Despite being independent buildings, they have always stood for the spirit of integration between disciplines.







The materials used aren’t a stylistic or formal choice. They were dictated by the fact that Cuba at that time had little iron and concrete. There was no marble and few stones. Instead, brick production was highly developed. For us, it was perfect working in a park. We were immediately reminded of garden architecture, like the classic temple of love, references to the “Arabian Nights,” English greenhouses or the gardens of the Alhambra. Brick is perfect for interpreting this repertoire. The next step was defining the spaces based on the functions we had to accommodate. We went to see where they had been practicing and we realized that the dancers, dancing in ‘rational’ spaces were constrained in their movements, as if they might knock their head on the ceiling or smack the walls. We studied the way they traced near circles and curves with their movements and decided to use vaults to capture this idea. Here is when fate intervenes. Cuba, at the time, no longer built masonry vaults and as I said, concrete was also scarce. We met a worker near the Ministry of Construction that could build terracotta vaults without reinforced concrete, the son of laborer who had worked for Gaudí. We hired him right away, and in less than one month he trained 80 laborers to lay Catalan vaulting. By day we followed progress on site, at night we worked to bring drawings to the site the following day. We had little time to complete the project. It was a total experience, in a climate where anything was possible. The schools are products of all these factors, united in the creative spirit that inspired them, but different. For this reason, I always insist that none of us has a style, everything is the result of an ongoing analysis of external factors, colored by our experiences, and governed by our personality. Charles— Renewed interest in these mostly unfinished buildings has not only led to their preservation but also to their completion. Recently, it was announced that Foster and Partners would redesign your National Ballet School for internationally famed Cuban ballet dancer Carlos Acosta. Foster is clearly a master of technologically expressive design and has done more than any architect to update the vault. His practice seems ideally suited for the remake of the Ballet School given its use of daring structure. But, being a truly international practice it is rarely rooted in local aesthetics or building practice. This seems to be in direct opposition to one of the primary objectives of your original design. Is Foster an appropriate choice? Vittorio— There is nothing to “redesign.” An aborted project simply needs to be finished. The School of Ballet was 90% complete, missing only the dance hall floors and some fixtures. A month more and the Ballet school would have been completed. The nearby Music School is a different story. It’s still missing the Symphony and Chamber music halls, which we’re currently planning, service areas, the library and the vocal classrooms besides the “bicycle chain” circulation path connecting all these elements around a central patio. From 2007-2010 we worked on behalf of the Cuban Ministry, towards the completion of the Ballet and Music Schools, which couldn’t be realized due to lack of funding, the global downturn and aftermath of rebuilding housing. Lately it has often been said that the School of Ballet is a jungle-covered ruin. This image is not real. The jungle covered the schools through the 80s, the most difficult period for these buildings and also for Cuba as a whole. However, for over ten years now they have been cleared with much effort and sacrifices on the part of the Cuban government itself. Despite being abandoned, the schools have welcomed and inspired some of today’s most famous Cuban artists. While they were students they would go to the ballet school to celebrate on its roofs, make love in the abandoned classrooms, rest or be inspired. Recently they hosted many artistic events; full dance shows; exhibitions and collateral exhibitions during the Havana Biennale; they were filmed for documentaries and movies; basically, they have never stopped housing and producing. Charles— You have been raising money for the project’s completion through the Vittorio Garatti Committee. Would you be happier seeing the project realized with guaranteed funding, albeit with a change of cast, or risk that the building will never be finished with the original design team through your grass roots funding mechanism? Vittorio— The Vittorio Garatti Committee we established this year in May aims to recover and complete the three schools, Ballet, Music and Theatre designed by architect Roberto Gottardi. In the few months we’ve been active we have already had the support of many friends and supporters as well as institutions from around the world, from Brazil, France, Holland, Italy, including universities and national and local institutions as well as by cultural figures.¬


document no. 30




A Single Mind

Maurizio Cattelan’s work breathes the violent clarity of very few words: taxidermy, Hitler, the Pope! No surprise Maurizio’s latest project, the print magazine Toilet Paper can do entirely without text.




Maurizio Cattelan proves a man of few words can still have a lot to say. Shedding light on his latest artistic practice, including photographing Anna Dello Russo, Maurizio shares insight on why life is (and always should be) funny. RACHEL— What is it about satire and humor that attracts you as an artist? MAURIZIO— The same thing that attracts everyone to humor. It’s a way to deal with the absurdities of modern life. RACHEL— What function do you envision for your Toilet Paper images in a world awash in commercial imagery? MAURIZIO— What function does a virus have? For Toilet Paper, my partner, Pierpaolo Ferrari and I are happy for the images to find their destiny, even a commercial one. RACHEL— Why make a wordless, picturebased magazine? MAURIZIO— Pictures are the true international language. RACHEL— What did your exhibition at the Guggenheim last year mean to you and what effect has it had on your idea of yourself as an artist? MAURIZIO— ALL was my public hanging. I am now a happy and busy retired artist. RACHEL— What’s your most treasured document? MAURIZIO— My wedding certificate!

The complete story of Toilet Paper will be published by Damiani this fall.




document no. 34



Speaking Volumes

An ultimate collection of art books, focusing on New York City, lives in the Village.


By Alex Aciman photographer Joshua Scott

There is an imperceptible, yet vast, difference between coffee table books and art books. The former are expensive, purchased in museum gift shops or at churches in Rome. They are used to entertain guests, to be left out casually and decoratively to hint at the owner’s studied and subtle urbanity. Art books, however, mean a great deal more. The moment you spot one, you feel that you cannot live with out it. You can sit for hours looking through each page and reading every caption—you may even buy a copy of it for each of your friends and hope that they are all just as enchanted. Imagine a collection comprising tomes by the precocious Basquiat, the early commercial illustrations and later works by pop art star Andy Warhol, graffiti anthologies and a large collection of New York photography books, including a series of portraits taken by Bill Cunningham of “The Duchess of Carnegie Hall Editta Sherman,” singular visions of the New York’s cityscape as seen through Berenice Abbott’s lens, and eerie snapshots by “Weegee The Famous” — crime photographer turned artist. Bookmarc in the West Village is a warehouse of such treasures. These prepossessing volumes remind us that art books are, of course, far more personal than their coffee table counterparts. Bookmarc, 400 Bleecker Street, New York City. (212) 620-4021







1. Françoise Sagan: New York Featuring images from photographers such as ernst Haas and Henri cartier-Bresson, this signed first edition with text by the playwright and novelist is in French. $750.00 2. J.M. Basquiat compiled by michel enrici. the French first edition published in 1989 features Basquiat’s colorful work. $570.00


3. Facades By Bill cunningham, signed by featured subject editta Sherman. cunningham captures the duchess of carnegie Hall in period clothing on a backdrop of new York’s famous landmarks. $700.00

5. Philip Trager: New York trager focuses on capturing the city’s architecture and cityscapes in this 1/100 signed first edition. $850.00


6. Jasper Johns: 35 Years By Leo castelli this is a signed first-edition print featuring a scrapbook retrospective of Jasper Johns’ paintings at the Leo castelli Gallery. $210.00 7. Keizo Kitajima: New York this rare edition of Kitajima’s 1982 book on new York captures the unique street and nightlife of the ‘70s. $1,800.00 8. Weegee’s People By Weegee the famous street photographer is the feature of this rare 1949 print, presenting his photos from the ‘30s and ‘40s including shots of the metropolitan opera. $325.00 9. Watching my name go by Photos by mervyn Kurlanskyand Jon naar, text by norman mailer. now called “Faith in Graffiti,” this early first edition is true to naar’s vision for the book and includes many of the original photographs. $500.00

11. 12.

10. Collaborations: Basquiat, Clemente, Warhol A rare first edition, the 1984 print features photos of the artists and their best collaborative pieces. $555.00 11. Brooklyn Gang By Bruce davidson this 1/4,000 first-edition print features the artist’s 1959 photographs of teenage gangs in ‘50s new York, his first photographic project. $850.00 12. Artists 1950 – 81: A Personal View By Hans namuth Published in 1981, namuth goes inside the studios of chuck close, Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollock and countless others in this first edition. $110.00


4. Photographs By Berenice Abbott the first-edition print features Abbott’s first show, in 1926, which comprised portraits of literary and artistic figures, shots of new York city and photos of science phenomena. $70.00

document no. 36

La Traviata Rising

Joey Arias is probably single-handedly responsible for keeping the New York art of drag afloat—and vice versa. The muse of the late Klaus Nomi reflects on the power of creative incest in his favorite place in the world.


interview By Jake shears photography by Catherine Servel

In 1976 Joey Arias graced New York City with his presence, and it’s never been the same since. From his early days at the designer store-turned-discothèque, Fiorucci, to performing alongside Davie Bowie on Saturday Night Live and his latest collaboration with Thierry Mugler, Arias reveals he doesn’t only come out at night. Jake Shears of the Scissor Sisters spoke with the legend on their shared love of the stage. JOEY— I’m in New York City Jake— Oh, I’m jealous! I’m on a golf course somewhere outside of Lisbon, Portu-

gal. It’s like a resort and I’m waiting to play a show. Have you been traveling? Joey— I was on the West coast and down in Mexico. I also did Central Park SummerStage with a 17-piece band, strings and horns! Jake— What does it feel like to play in Central Park in the middle of summer with a 17-piece band? Joey— Fantastic! I would say it reminds me of my childhood, everything from Woodstock to seeing all my favorite pop stars, like the Rolling Stones in Hyde Park and Diana Ross in Central Park. Now, it’s me performing, out of the bushes this time (last time I had my ass hanging out)! Jake— When you were a teenager what were your fantasies about? Who were you going to turn into? Joey— I was an army child. When I was 6 years old we moved to Los Angeles, California. So, you know, I would watch movies and look at pictures of Hollywood and think about how much I wanted to be in a movie and how they got made. I also watched music on TV. I would picture myself on Ed Sullivan Show. With records playing — oh my god, I’m dating myself— I would pretend I was the Supremes or


David Bowie. I would do the choreography. When I was 7 years old, people would ask, “Aren’t you supposed to be out there playing baseball or football?” Instead, I would stand there with a paper bag on my head for a wig. It was crazy. I could always see myself as Bowie. I was so fascinated by him. “Boys Keep Singing,” was my favorite song. Years later, I am actually with Bowie singing “Boys Keep Singing” on Saturday Night Live. There was a commercial break and he said, “Get ready your childhood dreams are about to come true.” He gave me a big hug. I could have screamed! Jake— When I was 8 years old, I had my first fantasy of performing while listening to “Let’s Dance.” That’s also the first album I ever owned. I distinctly remember one night dreaming I was Bowie and performing that song. He’s always been my number one Rock’n’Roll hero. Joey— Have you ever worked with Bowie or met him? Jake— No, but he saw us play at Irving Plaza once. I found out he was there after the show and I’ve never been so upset. You know, there are those people that you don’t necessarily want to come in contact with… He sent me a very cryptic but sweet email a couple weeks later. He said that he liked the concert. It took me two weeks to write him back. Joey— He’s the sweetest. I mean we sat there for maybe a week of rehearsals. We talked about everything. It was insane, mind-boggling. To turn things around, I was doing Cirque du Soleil when I first heard Scissor Sisters. DJ Scott Ewalt was sending me recordings of your music. I was dying to meet you. You have fantastic energy when you perform. Jake— Being a performer and loving what you do, is something we have in common. I think we really enjoy connecting with creative people. It’s really exciting to find we are like-minded spiritually and can pick each other out in a room; you can always find your sisters. Joey— [Laughs] Jake— Cirque du Soleil is one of the best things I’ve ever seen. I would go, like I was sitting at home. It rocked me so hard. I would either take mushrooms or bring a bottle of tequila. I remember one night I ate a fistful of mushrooms. I was tripping so hard. It was exquisite, one of the coolest, trippiest, most amazing theatrical experiences. “Arias with a Twist,” was one of those shows that changed my life. Joey— I was at ground zero of the show. Andrew Watson, the creative director of Cirque du Soleil, who came up with the idea, was key. I told the producers the show could not happen without him. There’s nobody in the world that can take you on a journey that is so outrageous and scary, you think your life is going to fall out of you, and yet you return home unharmed. They dragged me into this thing. (I was actually running from them.) It was mind-boggling; they had never dealt with this kind of sexual, sensual show. We went back and forth for a year and talked to them about cabaret and what I was doing. It was amazing. I remember the first time I walked out and thought, here I am at a Cirque du Soleil show in Las Vegas along with everyone from the big fat Midwesterner, to the most extreme European. Jake— I love Vegas. I fucking love it. I go there at least twice a year. I go for 48 hours, but I could go for 48 days. I love the cross-section of people you’re talking about. You’ve got working-class Americans living their idea of glamour next to filthy-rich Europeans blowing tons of cash. There’s no place like it in the world.



“I got here in ’76. I was awestruck. I was in my late teens and had a lot of city watching to do. I followed the vibe. I never thought, ‘I’m going to take over the city.’ I just let it guide me, and respect it.” 38

Jake— I was just down in D.C. to see “The Normal Heart,” which I missed on Broadway. It was such an amazing show. You moved to New York in ’76 and were part of the creative community. I still can’t get my head around what a devastating time New York must have had in the ‘80s with AIDS. It’s something that I think about a lot. I write songs about it and talk about it, but I don’t think it’s something I’ll ever understand. Joey— You are supposed to go to funerals for someone who is 80 or 90 years old, but in this case it was our friends who were 20 or 21 dying, caravans of friends who are gone. At one point, we couldn’t cry anymore. It was very hard. Safe Sex. It was like 9/11. It’s something you never get over. It sits there in your heart. At the same time you still have to get up, sing a song and keep going… Jake— That’s the crazy dichotomy, when you think of the ‘80s. It was also super-creative, really fun, downtown and all these things were happening at once. Joey— Exactly, that was the hard part. Everything was exploding. Creativity. Death. It was all hand in hand. One day a painting would sell for half a million dollars and the next day someone was dying, that same artist. It was terrible. Jake— You keep close all the people that have shared these experiences, like the Paper family. Kim Hastreiter and David Hershkovits. There’s a really amazing multi-generational group of people that I found when I moved to New York and can still count on. Those tight groups, families that are self-created, are one of my favorite things about New York. Joey— Exactly. Take Kim and I. We met in Los Angeles, and hungout for a good year; and then we drove cross-country on the bicentennial in a covered wagon. Kim is one of my oldest friends, a painter, a keeper of the faith for the new and the up-and-coming. Let’s put out a hand and give everyone a chance at their “15 minutes.” Jake— I love that he’s still doing it, that it’s still strong, even though New York is constantly changing. Joey— I’m working with Manfred Thierry Mugler, who wants me to be in his brand new show in Paris, the “Mugler Follies.” We’re also working on a whole new solo performance with a persona called “Z Chromosome.” There’s also a short film that plays in the show that turned out to be a mini-movie that cost like $5 million. It was beyond. It was Mad Men. It was an incredible visionary shoot. Jake— I look up to you so much. I think you have to keep making dreams for yourself and find successes. I hope that I stay as busy, creative and as relevant as you. Joey— You have! Your eyes are sparkling, and you let me into your home. You’re so inviting. Jake— Those are just the bath salts! Joey— It’s like a dream— you come to New York and we become friends and have the same fucking birthday, October 3. You’re a volcano of good dreams, loaded with so much good energy. It comes through in your performance. Jake— That means a lot. Thanks. Joey— It means a lot to me. I get charged up when I see you and shy when I talk to you. I like to feel like a groupie. Jake— Don’t we all. Joey— I got so dramatic being a groupie as a kid. I used to work in this super hip store in the garment district and every pop star was in there. I became a good friend of the group “Humble Pie.” What was their song? And then we had the group “Small Faces.” We actually became boyfriends. Jake— Oh my god, that’s scandalous. Joey— It was very scandalous. And I used to hang out with the Mamas and the Papas, going to their house in Beverly Hills. I used to hang out with Sly and the Family Stone. I was in the studio when they recorded “Family Affair.” They couldn’t get Sly to wake up. He was so out. They bumped him and bumped, and I thought, “Oh my god this is going to be a flop.” Of course it became a direct hit. Yeah it’s crazy, I love being a groupie—your groupie. Jake— This was a really great talk. Joey— Let’s get together when you’re back in town. Sing your ass off and show them exactly what this world is about. ¬



Makeup by Kate Lee at using Chanel. Hair by Shin Arima using Redken for FRANKREPS. Manicure by Dawn Sterling at using Chanel.

Joey— It can get naughty but I had to restrain myself. I would look at people in the audience wearing shorts and flip-flops while I’m in a $25,000 gown. I’m just staring at them thinking, ‘I need to talk to you after the show,’ and they’re looking at me thinking, ‘I love your shoes.’ Jake— I can’t imagine. It’s one thing to be on Broadway doing 10 shows a week; you’ve got New York. But, what got you through in Vegas, because that’s really intense? Joey— My friends got me through. I dragged in a friend with whom I had been touring all over the world, to be the musical director. My other buddy became the second MC. We had each other to hold onto. Of course, I had my dear friends in New York who I talked to every day, and they would come visit the show. Everyone from Bette Midler to Joan Collins to Brooke Shields, and they would do the limousine thing, waiting for me out back. Jake— I’m sure there were tons of glamorous folks gliding through. Joey— I could only do so much of that, because of the nature of the show. I felt like a high priestess…and then I locked myself away; I worked out and watched a lot of movies. It was very hard. Jake— You’ve got to take care of yourself! It’s something I’m still trying to learn. It’s hard when you’re playing shows all the time and people are coming through, friends and family you love. I’ve never been cautious about my voice. But, last year, I got socked in the face a couple of times— I walked out on stage and it didn’t come. Joey— Definitely. I think we did 15 songs and they caught up with my voice. I just sang my ass off on “House of the Rising Sun,” with all the different styles it demands. I came out for the encore, the strings and horns came on, and my voice clipped on me. I couldn’t get a certain note out. It freaked me out. The muscles were dry. When there are no backing singers, especially, and you’re performing all alone, it’s scary. Jake— A year and a half ago we were getting ready to do another gig, and I lost my falsetto, for four or five months. I did a whole tour with no falsetto. I seriously didn’t know if I was ever going to get it back. It was just gone. There are moments you realize how fragile you really are. Joey— It’s happened to me once or twice, I think, and when it does you skip that bar. People are like, “Ew, what’s up?” Jake— As successful as you are, traveling as you do, you’re a mainstay of New York. I moved to New York in 1999 and you were one of the first people I was introduced to— at the Roxy. It’s funny, how the city changes but stays the same. How do you view the city now? What’s your relationship to it? Joey— I got here in ’76. I was awestruck. I was in my late teens and had a lot of city watching to do. I followed the vibe. I never thought, ‘I’m going to take over the city.’ I just let it guide me, and respect it. The city naturally changes; it’s like the seasons. It was falling apart. It was crumbling. Times were terrible. The city was bankrupt, robbing plagued the streets and yet it was an exciting time for artists. Then everything changed and Giuliani started the cleanup. I love it, because otherwise I don’t know what it would look like. New York would be like Babylon. But, I wish the rents weren’t so high. It would let the creativity back in. Jake— Sometimes it feels like this island is a place just for rich people and it’s frustrating. Joey— I think the city will change again because it can’t sustain this situation. I never wanted to be part of the scene. I wanted to go through the cracks a little. To me, it felt like all my peers made it— the footprints are there. Never like Joey was part of the ‘70s or ‘80s or ‘90s. And then Manfred Thierry Mugler told me years ago, “You’re never going to be a star. You’re always going to be walking on a staircase and every step you take will be a new adventure, a new position.” And it’s true. You take a new step and everything changes. Take another and everything changes. I just accept it. I trust in the universe. You have to work. You can’t just be lying down. You need to get out there. You make yourself available; people have got to see you. You go to lunch or something. You have to support each other; like right now I’ve been going to shows and things downtown, any kind of act. Just as they want to see me, I want to see them. People are supporting each other. I think it’s part of the magic of the city.

Dichotomy of Style

Zoe Latta and Mike Eckhaus explore the roots of their label Eckhaus Latta and the musical bliss of wedding ceremonies. Interview By Troy Chatterton photography by Catherine Servel

I met Zoe Latta and Mike Eckhaus, aka Eckhaus Latta, this summer at their slender studio space in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. With a successful first collection for FW 2012 behind them, they were working out ideas for their SS 2013 collection. Eckhaus Latta’s designs are supremely modern, unisex, sculptural silhouettes, often made with handcrafted fabrics and digital prints, and their sense of color is exquisite. Like urban nomads from the 22nd Century. When I met them, their new collection was taking shape. They were choosing fabrics, sculpting blocks as shoe heels, and lattice-shaped top was pinned to a dress form. They don’t drop names of celebrities, or tell fictional stories to explain their designs. Instead, they have a pragmatic approach, trusting in the power of allowing one thing to lead them to the next.


TROY— Did you meet at risd? What year did you graduate? Mike— Yes, Graduated in 2010. But, Zoe had the honor of walking three times,

from 2008-2010. It’s a long story, but Zoe is only two months older than me, she’s not some cougar. TROY— Where were you both born? Mike— NYC. Zoe— Santa Cruz, CA.

A silhouette from the spring collection.


TROY— How much does the neighborhood you work in, Williamsburg, influence your designs? Mike— Not at all. TROY— If you had the choice of dressing Lena Dunham or Tilda Swinton whom would you choose? Who would the dream guy be? Some guy plucked off the street, or a specific actor, writer, musician? Mike— We don’t really have Muses. Friends are inspiring, and we find each other as sources of inspiration. But we never think of “this girl” or “that guy.” But I want to dress Grimes, because I’m obsessed with her. Zoe— Ugh, Mike and Grimes...I would be honored to dress any of those women, but only if they wanted to wear our clothes—as Mike said, the Muse doesn’t really work for us or get us anywhere. The idea of someone interpreting our clothes into their own vocabulary of self-expression gets us off way more. Mike— And Grimes is really too cute. TROY— What’s the last great book you’ve read? Or the one you’re excited about reading, but too busy working to read? Mike— Too busy to read, unfortunately, but heard that the  Yayoi Kusama autobiography was recently translated in English, and I’m really excited about that. Zoe— I really wish I had more time to read. While traveling after our last show, I read Susan Sontag’s Reborn, which is a collection of her journals and notebooks from 1947-1963. The book was incredible because it highlighted her perspective during a really formative decade in her life, her twenties, also one that Mike and I happen to be living in ourselves. I probably overdrew parallels, but it was often too eerie. There was one entry that I was reading while on a train from Tangier to Marrakesh that started with her feeling frantic about her lover, career and her 25th birthday, and then explained that she was on the exact same train, we were on the exact same leg of her journey. TROY— Do you play music at your studio? If so, who? Both times I was there, no music. Mike— Almost always. It’s funny that none was playing when you were there. Lately a lot of WFMU, EDM, and Grimes. Oh, and Zoe’s childhood band Belly Boat, I’m really trying to work on its resurgence. As well as, Pygmy calls. Zoe— Right now I’m revisiting some Phil Collins; I think our intern wants to kill me... I’m looking forward to the opportunity to perform “Against All Odds” in a karaoke setting one day soon. TROY— Is there a strong feeling, or influence as you begin to create the spring collection? Mike— Yes, but not something that is necessarily so clear sighted. It’s more visceral, like a twitching in your skin. Ideas compile in our heads, like our brains are doing a Google search. Everything seems disparate but makes sense together. Zoe— For some reason, it makes sense together. I think we’re practicing more and more how to trust that feeling, and not try to overcompensate with false or misinterpreted justifications. TROY— What do you both do to have fun away from work? I know you go to the beach, but what other pleasures do you have? Mike— Dancing! Zoe— The beach and dancing are so important! Mike’s really good at karaoke; I want to get better. We also have a wedding DJ collaboration. We love music and weddings. Mike— Yes, weddings are very important  to us, especially DJing them. Trust me, we’ll make it truly the happiest day of your life. ¬

Makeup by Kate Lee at using Chanel. Hair by Shin Arima using Redken for FRANKREPS. Manicure by Dawn Sterling at using Chanel.

document no. 40




document no. 43

Performance artist, Zebra Katz is steering mainstream music into rarified territory and is turning ears. By Jake Yuzna photography by Catherine Servel

Dark and sinister, cutting and clever, the single “Ima Read,” and its accompanying video, spread across Facebook timelines and Gchat windows in a flurry less than a year ago. Merging minimal beats with lyrics which address schooling of both the academic and dance floor varieties, “Ima Read” suddenly brought the performance artist Zebra Katz to international attention. Much to Katz’s surprise, the five-year-old Ima Read had found its audience. With it, Katz discovered his work featured in Rick Owens’s Fall/Winter 2012 runway show and released by Diplo’s Mad Decent imprint Jeffree’s; he was commissioned by the Museum of Arts and Design to create new work and opening gigs for Lana Del Rey. Finally, the Florida born performance artist could quit his day job and approach his work full time, even if that meant a slightly more rough-and-tumble lifestyle. “After studying performance in college and then in London, I moved to NYC to try to make my work; honestly, like everyone else. I was working full time and on my own stuff . I’ve been at it for a few years, and suddenly, this all happened.” Speaking via cellphone as he runs from a photoshoot back to his apartment to email high-res press photos to another commitment, Katz adds, “It’s not like I have a publicist or manager. I’m doing everything on my own.” Echoing a reality shared by many emerging artists today, Katz is a jack-of-alltrades. Although not a new practice the collapse of the music industry in the early 2000s dramatically shifted the ability of younger artists to find the economic support to expand their practice. The days of limos, multi-album six-figure deals, and all the other rock star accoutrements were over. With this new reality, the shadow cast by the stadium-filling musical act continues to cause many to attempt similar success, a level that no longer is possible


without the influx of record sales. But others, like Katz, pause to reflect on this short-lived industry revolution and what they can learn from it. A century ago, musical acts were nearly entirely relegated to live performances. Making their living from club acts and tours, the archetypical musician was a no good, broke scoundrel traveling from town to town. However, our new landscape of economic rubble does have a silver lining. Crisis has shattered old models. Fragments in hand, many emerging performance artists are building new possibilities. Today, they must find new ways to create, promote, and distribute their work, even if it means struggling with the small budgets seen before the days of six figure recording contracts. “Its funny,” Katz continues, “people keep coming up to me after shows and telling me what I should and shouldn’t do. Everyone has advice for me. Especially complete strangers. There is a part of me that is flattered by it because it means they are really into what I do and want to see me succeed. But then, there is another part of me that wants to say, leave me alone, let me do it my way.” So far, Zebra Katz’s way of doing things has been working. The image of the super villain, a powerful, and dark force, has been resonating, even if it draws connections that Katz did not intend. Continually explained in the context of vogue balls and the seminal documentary “Paris is Burning,” Katz finds himself paralleled to other gender-bending black artists like Grace Jones. “I mean, I love that stuff. But it wasn’t the inspiration for any of the work I am doing. Balls, reading, it’s all on the table. The song isn’t about balls, but it is a touchstone. I can understand that people will use those touchstones to understand the work.” Pausing to consider his words for a moment, Katz adds, “It’s not that I’m completely against it. I mean, it means everyone can take something out of the work, and that is great. But it is still limiting. Not so much for myself. I am still going to do what I want to do, but for the audience.” Quickly, Katz continues, “I can understand it because I’m young, black, and different. Aggressive lyrics with minimal beats. Is that hip-hop? Is it queer music? No. But it’s different, and there is no blueprint for this sort of thing. I remember years ago, telling my friends that I was a performance artist. They would ask, what’s that?” With his training in performance and background in fine art, Zebra Katz continues a lineage of other progressive musical acts to emerge from an arts education. David Bowie, Bryan Ferry, Brian Eno, and others, all utilized their art training to tackle live performance in fresh ways. In doing so, they laid the foundation for the counter culture rock star rebel and opened exciting avenues for creating and consuming music. Both this training and a keen eye on the current landscape of music and culture gives Zebra Katz a leg up. “I know interviews, like this one, are important and fun. But right now, all I want to do is get back into the studio. It’s time to start making the next thing.” With his rising success and sharp instincts, Katz is poised to break new ground for both himself and the audiences accustomed to music and performance of the past. ¬


Makeup by Kate Lee at using Chanel. Hair by Shin Arima using Redken for FRANKREPS. Manicure by Dawn Sterling at using Chanel.

Zero-Degree Hip-Hop


The First Cut is the Deepest

Hairstylist Holli Smith started out trimming trees. She’s now one of the top artists in her trade, cutting right to the soul of her model’s personae. BY KIM ANN FOXMAN PHOTOGRAPHS OF MISSY BARRETT AND DYNASTY HANDBAG BY BENJAMIN FREDRICKSON


Holli Smith is a hair guru for so many (she’s been cutting my hair for 13 years) and a major commodity in fashion. I first met her at Burning Man in 1998. I approached her, and when she turned around, I realized that she was the girl people were trying to set me up with for quite some time. (If I had had any idea that she was so beautiful and amazingly talented, I would have accepted that date with her a long time ago.) We spent over two years together and now she is my best friend, my sister, and also one of my favorite artists. I asked her to share a bit about where she comes from and who she is: HOLLI— I grew up in Salinas, California, in Steinbeck country. My family descending from Depression-era farmers—a real Grapes of Wrath background. My grandfather was a grocer and a silk flower supplier in California. We played around making arrangements when we were kids. It helped me learn to sculpt and recognize balanced composition. He put us to work. For a $1 allowance, I got to trim shrubs, trees and cut my first straight line on a weeping willow. KIM ANN— When were you first interested by hair? HOLLI— I was very much into Chris & Cosey, and Cocteau Twins’ Elizabeth Fraser. Music was the only way I could drift into fantasy. So I started going to concerts and it was everything. I watched the way they expressed themselves and how they looked. Hair seemed like the most immediate way for musicians to define their identity. KIM ANN— You cut your friends’ hair including many of New York’s gay artists, intellectuals and performers. At the same time, you are doing high fashion editorials, magazine covers, fashion shows, celebrities and traveling the world. What is it like to work in both worlds? HOLLI— Extreme satisfaction! I can’t imagine doing one without the other. Cutting keeps me limber, it’s about creating something that interacts with the world; it’s also very intimate. Fashion styling is about a fantasy; anything is possible and it doesn’t have to fit into any other moment than that set of pictures. KIM ANN— Name some of your favorite hairstyle icons or trends. HOLLI— Christian Hosoi; young Jodie Foster; Katherine Hepburn; Eddie Murphy in “Coming To America” and “Raw;” Claude Cahun; Nastassja Kinski in “Cat People;” Kristy McNichol; Jane Bowles; the Oscar Tux and Crazy Dyke trends. KIM ANN— Is there a trend that you could do without? HOLLI— Cyber-Goths. Cyborgs. Too pirate for me; sort of like the hacker look. And I’m not a dread fan. Especially neon. I could change my mind tomorrow however. KIM ANN— You once gave a friend a spontaneous haircut in a McDonald’s parking lot; where is the strangest place you’ve cut? HOLLI— I once gave a friend bangs at an after party at The End Up in San Francisco (I lived in the city from 1995-2000). I burnt her hair off with a cigarette. KIM ANN— What are your favorite things to do when you are not working? HOLLI— My GF.  Dance, music, dog, drive, cook, Gertrude Stein, movies…anything that helps me check out. KIM ANN— Share one of your favorite hair moments with us. HOLLI— Working for Guido on a Jeff Burton Story for V Magazine. It was in a Hustler studio and the models for the shoot, which were probably cast from places like Craigslist (this was before Grindr), were having sex. ¬




document no. 46

New Geniuses Born Artist Nir Hod shares never before seen portraits exclusively for Document. Interview By Amy Phelan ARTWORK by NIR HOD






Israeli born artist Nir Hod lives and works in New York, and is represented by the Paul Kasmin Gallery in New York. Hod began his career in video, works in sculpture but is known for his high realism paintings. Collector Amy Phelan, a passionate supporter of contempoary art, and Nir’s friend discuss his origin, process, and inspiration: Amy Phelan— When did you first start painting? What drew you to portraiture? What does this medium offer you that working in other media cannot? Nir— I started to paint when I was 15 years old. It was some kind of Forest Gump story. By mistake I went to an art school, we studied the Renaissance and I was so fascinated with da Vinci and Michelangelo that after a year I said to myself, I want to be an artist. To this day it’s some kind of magic for me to paint or to see paintings. When I studied art at the academy in Jerusalem, the first year I made videos. Once I discovered Gerhard Richter’s candle paintings, I started to get more involved with painting. I like portraits because I like people. I like to understand beauty and expression—why we love some people just by looking at them or why others make us feel different just from the way they look. I am fascinated by what time does to the face, and I like eyes more than anything. It is so powerful—when I paint portraits I feel like I’m creating someone else, someone who communicates with me. It’s a great feeling because as an artist and as a painter you often are lonely or feel lonely. I like to see old masters portraits and fashion portraits, sometimes it’s like a poem and sometimes it’s like a sharp knife… it fills me with emotion. I think that painting is very limited compared to music and movies, but I like it just because of that. I want to compete with the volume and the visual emotional impact on the viewer. I want to get the attention and it is very powerful to do it with a medium like painting. I find paintings to be lonely and deep… they remain much longer than other media; they are timeless. I like the illusion that good paintings create. I like sad paintings because they are so moving, strong, and human. Amy— Who are the geniuses? Did one person in particular inspire you to create these characters? Are they (the faces/expressions/features) based off of you or anyone you know? Nir— The geniuses are special children, special people for good or bad. They are children who are asking for their mom’s attention or love; they are nasty spoiled children who believe that they deserve everything and they are right; they are orphans who want to be beautiful so someone will take them home; they are powerful people with knowledge and amazing brains that open our minds to new ideas and visions. They are characters I build in my mind because of particular movies, books, and people in history; artists with big egos that painted dandies, kings and warriors with extravagant taste and style. The geniuses are based on some people I know but it’s only metaphor; I create them based on a different


time in the history of art and culture. For me it’s some kind of correction to society and time. Amy— In the body of work we see here, some of the faces are “mashed up,” in other words, the features are mismatched. Why, or what inspired, this change? Nir— It represents a development in my work. I like to be more surreal, I allow myself to be looser or to experience more styles. I like to break the faces and search for a new one. People talk with me a lot about old masters and new realism; this is my way to combine it together. Amy— Do you believe in Genius? Nir— Sure, I believe in geniuses and try to push my characters into this area. Warhol said he’s interested in what is beautiful and not interested in what is real. I like to take other people with me to the other side of the mirror. Amy— Describe yourself in a few words. Nir— Artist. Storyteller. Image-maker. Emotional dealer. Amy— What artists influence you? Nir— Leonardo da Vinci, El Greco, Francisco Goya, Auguste Rodin, Pablo Picasso, Andy Warhol, Jeff Koons,  James Rosenquist, Alice Neel, Cindy Sherman, Francis Bacon. Amy— Describe your style. Nir— Contemporary with a twist, very classic, and historical. I like beauty and destruction, glamour and death, seduction and untouchable emotional. Amy— What inspires you to keep going, to keep you motivated? Nir— I guess it’s some kind of correction I’m trying to do to my heart, my soul. I feel like I’ve been heart broken since I was 15 years old. My art allows me to deal, and talk about things that reality and life are too limited, too boring, or not interesting enough for me. I like to mix between dreams and reality, what is fake and what is real. I always look at big artists, people in history who have changed the rules, singers who create lovers, books that change your mind. Artists in different media who can make other people cry. It’s so powerful and so dramatic, so touching. It gives me the drive to work hard and be part of it. ¬

new york

los angeles


alice photographed by juergen teller

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Document 01  

In occasione della Fashion Week di New York 2012, giovedì 6 settembre alle ore 18.00 sarà presentata "Document" la nuova rivista semestrale...

Document 01  

In occasione della Fashion Week di New York 2012, giovedì 6 settembre alle ore 18.00 sarà presentata "Document" la nuova rivista semestrale...