Page 1

2009


2

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

3


TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE  16 Editor  In  Chief   Mark  Doyle mark@tribemagazine.org Commissioning  Editor  (Art) Ali  Donkin ali@tribemagazine.org Commissioning  Editor  (Writing) Tilly  Craig tilly@tribemagazine.org Marketing  &  PR Steve  Clement-­‐Large steve@tribemagazine.org Correspondents Aurore  Plaussu,  Hannah  Lewis,  Francesca  Didymus,  Jennie  Mika  Pinhey,  Alistair  Gardiner,  Becky  Mead,  Helen   Moore,  Sergey  Kireev,  Blake  Thomas Contributors Jude  Buffum,  Norio  Fujikawa,  Cristina  Venedict,  Michael  Jantzen,  Sarah  Ahmad,  Celeste  Rojas,  Pedro  Almodóvar,   Rogério  Degaki,  Robert  MacNeil,  Stephen  Harwood,  Kim  Niehans,  Lee  Auburn,  Tom  Warner,  Felicity  Notley,   Brogan  McCulloch Regular  Contributor Glyn  Davies Cover  (Front  &  Back) Photo:  Mark  Doyle,  Model:  Charlie  Eaton Inside  Cover Norio  Fujikawa General  Enquiries contact@tribemagazine.org Submit  Work submit@tribemagazine.org Website www.tribemagazine.org Press  and  Media  Enquiries  to  Steve  Clement-­‐Large steve@tribemagazine.org

Artists have  given  permission  for  their  work  to  be  displayed  in  tribe  magazine.  No  part  of  this  publication  may   be  reproduced  without  the  permission  of  the  copyright  holder(s)   (C)  2013  tribe  magazine

4

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


JUDEBUFFUM12NORIO FUJIKAWA26MICHAELJ ANTZEN38SARAHAHM AD44ROGERIODEGAKI 50PEDROALMODOVAR 60FRANCESCADIDYMU S74CELESTEROJAS82 ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

5


Cristina  Venedict cristinavenedict.ro

6

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


EDITORIAL

WE ARE  STILL  FAILING  CREATIVE  GRADUATES Last  month   one  of  our  correspondents,   Hannah  Lewis,  spoke  about  the  problems  facing  creatives  and   graduates  in  creative  disciplines  in   making   money  from  their   skills  and   qualifications.   In  the  current   economic  climate,  jobs  in   the  creative  media  and  wider  creative  industries  are  now  even  harder   to   gain  entry  to.  Graduates  are   regularly  leaving  university   or  college  with  high  levels  of   personal  debt,   lots  of  hope  and  expectation  but  nothing  tangible  on  the  CV. This  simply   can’t   go   on   -­‐   we   are   systematically   failing   our   creative   graduates.   So   many   academic   institutions  claim  to  have  vocational  elements  to  their  creative  courses  and  yet  I  personally  have  seen   many  students  graduates  applying  for  internships  with  tribe  with  little   to  no   real   tangible   experience   to  draw   upon   or  sell  to  a  potential   employer.   The  vocational  elements  are   too   small  a  part   of   the   degree,  and   do   not  give  the  student  a  fully   immersive  work   experience.  As  an   organisation,  tribe  is   snowed  under  with  requests  for  internships  from  under  and  post  graduates.  The  demand  is  huge,  and   the  vocational  elements  that    some  courses  aim  to  provide  are  not  making  enough  of  a  difference.   It’s  not  so  much  the  skills  that   the  work   based  graduates  need,   although  these  are  important,   it’s   access  to  the  creative  networks  and  knowing   how  to   use  them  that   is   the  most  critical  thing.  Access   to  creative  networks  can  only  really  be  fully  realised  by  actually  working  in  that  sector  or  industry  for   a  decent  period   of   time   -­‐   six   months  at  the   very   least.   It’s  knowing   who   to   talk   to,  where   to  go,   learning  the  language  and  ettiquette   of  the  sector,  making  the  contacts,   getting  to  know  people  and   collaborating  with  them  on  tangible  work  projects.   tribe   currently   has   a   roster  of   10   under  and  post   graduate   students  volunteering   with   us.   We  are   limited  by  how  many  we   can  take  on,  and  with  no  backing   to  date  from  any  institution  or  funder,  we   do  what  we  can  to  give  our  young  interns  as  much  experience  and  access  to  the  creative  industries  as   possible  and  support  them  to  grow  in  confidence  as  well  as  knowledge.  Let  us  hope  it’s  enough. Mark  Doyle,  Editor  In  Chief mark@tribemagazine.org

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

7


8

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

9


10

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Robert MacNeil robmacneil.com

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

11


JUDE BUFFUM Jude is a commercial artist and digital graphics designer living and working in the USA. His work celebrates the simple beauty of the 8-bit era in contemporary digital design.

www.judebuffum.com

What's the  appeal  of  working  in  lo-­‐res? What  I  love  about  working  with  pixels  is   that  they  bring  this  whole  language  of   gaming  into  the  art,  and  that  gives  me  a  lot   of  op_ons  to  play  with  those  metaphors,   whether  it’s  scoring  points,  dialogue  boxes,   item  menus,  status  meters,  that  sort  of   thing.  So  usually  I’m  looking  at  which  of   those  concepts  would  be  best  exploited  by   the  subject  ma`er.  The  other  thing  I  love   about  it  is  the  element  of  nostalgia.  People   my  age,  give  or  take  ten  years,  can  look  at   it  and  immediately  we’re  all  taken  to  this   very  specific  place  in  our  memories.  For   me,  it’s  such  a  pleasant  memory  it’s  almost   euphoric.  But  then  I  take  that  almost   childlike  state  of  mind,  and  place  it  in  a   modern  context  with  very  adult  themes   like  violence  or  sex  or  poli_cal  corrup_on,   and  that  juxtaposi_on  creates  a  very   intense  feeling. What  are  your  tools  of  the  trade? For  my  pixel  illustra_on  I  use  Adobe   Photoshop.  I  get  emails  all  the  _me  from   people  asking  me  what  filters  I  use  to   make  things  “look  8-­‐bit”  and  it  makes  me   laugh  because  the  truth  is  I  do  98%  of  the   work  using  one  single  tool:  the  pencil  tool   set  to  1  pixel.  That’s  it,  one  pixel  at  a  _me.   I  have  a  few  other  tricks  up  my  sleeve  but   that’s  the  bulk  of  it. For  my  other  infographic  style,  I  use  a   combina_on  of  Adobe  Illustrator  and   Photoshop.  Typically  I’ll  do  the  bulk  of  the   illustra_on  in  Illustrator  and  then  finish  it   off  in  Photoshop  if  I’m  incorpora_ng   textures  or  other  techniques. Despite  being  a  digital  illustrator,  I’ve  been   trying  to  get  back  into  keeping  a   sketchbook.  I  always  send  pencil  sketches   to  clients,  but  outside  of  that  I  found  I   wasn’t  really  using  my  drawing  skills   anymore,  and  it  kinda  got  me  bummed  

12

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16

out. So  now  I  take  my  sketchbook   everywhere  and  do  a  lot  more  life  drawing.   I  was  backstage  at  the  Warped  Tour  last   week,  and  I  spent  most  of  the  _me  just   drawing  the  bands  and  crowd,  it  was  a  lot   of  fun!  Who  knows,  maybe  I’ll  end  up   developing  a  third,  hand-­‐drawn  style. Can  you  talk  us  through  how  you  plan  and   create  a  piece  of  pixel  art? Concept,  concept,  concept!  The  first  step,   in  crea_ng  any  piece  of  art  in  my  opinion,   should  be  the  IDEA.  I  always  spend  a  lot  of   _me  sketching  out  rough  ideas  before  I   even  get  onto  the  computer.  I  men_oned   earlier  about  figuring  out  which  gaming   mechanisms  and  metaphors  to  exploit  in   each  piece;  that  really  is  step  one  in  my   process. Once  I  have  the  idea  fleshed  out,  I’ll  start   crea_ng  the  individual  parts  of  the   artwork,  pixel  by  pixel.  Olen  _mes  if  I’m   doing  a  portrait  in  the  piece,  that  comes   first,  so  I  know  how  few  pixels  I’m  going  to   have  to  work  with  in  the  other  elements.   But  it  really  depends  on  the  individual   piece.  But  most  of  the  _me  I  figure  out   exactly  how  many  pixels  wide  and  tall  the   work  will  be.  I  like  to  blow  them  up  at  least   10-­‐15  _mes  their  original  size;  the  bigger   the  pixels,  the  sexier  they  are! Whats  the  hardest  part  about  being  a   creaIve? I  guess  if  you’re  asking  about  being  a   crea_ve  (person  who  is  crea_ve  for  a   living),  the  hardest  part  is  all  the  non-­‐ crea_ve  stuff!  I  wish  I  could  wake  up  every   day  and  spend  8-­‐12  hours  just  crea_ng  art,   but  the  truth  is  that  makes  up  only  about   1/3  of  what  I  do.  The  majority  of  my  _me   is  spent  emailing  or  calling  clients  or   galleries,  marke_ng  myself  (via  postcards,   social  networking,  my  website),  sending   invoices,  upgrading  equipment  in  my  


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

13


14

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


studio, or  doing  interviews  like  this!  It's  all   part  of  the  lifestyle  of  working  for  yourself,   but  some_mes  I  wish  I  had  more  _me  to   devote  to  just  being…  crea_ve. In  terms  of  BEING  crea_ve,  the  hardest   part  for  me  is  deciding  what  to  focus  on.  I   have  so  many  ideas  (I  know,  what  a  terrible   problem  to  have!)  that  I  olen  get   sidetracked  and  don’t  follow  through  on   most  of  them.  Or  I’ll  get  to  that  halfway   point  and  then  lose  confidence  in  the  idea   and  it  ends  up  never  coming  to  frui_on.  I   can’t  even  tell  you  how  many  sketches  I   have  for  poten_al  comic  books,  movies,   video  games,  toys  and  2-­‐D  art  pieces  that   will  probably  never  see  the  light  of  day. Your  infographics  work  is  interesIng  -­‐   whats  the  appeal  of  infographics  for  you?   Can  you  describe  the  working  process   between  yourself  and  the  client? Well  the  infographics  were  sort  of  my  first   foray  into  illustra_on.  I  graduated  from  the   Tyler  School  of  Art  with  a  BFA  in  Graphic   Design  actually.  I  ended  up  working  for  one   of  my  teachers,  Paul  Kepple  at  Headcase   Design,  who  primarily  does  book  design.   One  of  the  first  projects  we  collaborated   on  when  I  started  working  there  was  a   book  called  the  Baby  Owner’s  Manual.  The   book  was  wri`en  with  the  father-­‐to-­‐be   market  in  mind,  in  the  style  of  an   appliance  owner’s  manual,  so  we  created   this  infographic  style  to  go  along  with  that. From  there  I  kind  of  fell  in  love  with   infographics,  especially  when  they’re  used   to  convey  informa_on  that  infographics   normally  wouldn’t  display,  like  more   personal  or  humorous  subject  ma`er.  Even   in  my  pixel  style,  there’s  that  element  of   the  heads  up  display  that  I  love  to   incorporate,  to  communicate  other   informa_on  about  what  you’re  looking  at.

What impact  has  digital  art  had  on  art  in   general? I  learned  early  on  in  art  school  that  I  SUCK   at  drawing  and  pain_ng.  Well  maybe  not   totally  at  drawing,  but  I  knew  I’d  never   make  it  as  a  painter,  so  I  gravitated  toward   the  computer,  especially  Adobe  Illustrator.   My  biggest  weakness  was  mixing  color  and   blending  paint,  so  I  figured  why  not  let  the   computer  compensate  for  that  and  let  me   focus  on  my  what  I  can  do?   What  effect  has  the  internet  had  on  art  in   general?  Has  it  opened  you  up  to  new   ideas  or  concepts.  or  has  it  created  too   much  visual  "noise"?  Is  hard  to  find  the   good  stuff  amongs  the  bad? The  internet  is  great  for  gerng  your  work   out  there!  It  really  has  cut  down  on  the   amount  of  marke_ng  I  have  to  do  myself;   there’s  an  en_re  army  of  loyal  fans  out   there  who  will  blog  about  your  work,   retweet  your  latest  posts,  it’s  absolutely   amazing! But  as  far  as  inspiring  me,  I  don’t  know  I   think  you’re  right  there  is  so  much  out   there  it  can  be  overwhelming.  Also,  the   more  you  look  at  other  people’s  work  the   more  likely  you  are  to  rip  someone  off  I   think,  whether  it’s  inten_onal  or  not.  I   have  influences  for  sure,  but  I  really  try   and  avoid  looking  too  much  at  what  other   people  are  doing  and  just  focus  on  the   ideas  going  on  inside  my  own  head. Is  there  something  you'd  like  to  work  on,  or   a  client  you'd  like  to  work  with,  you  havent   had  the  chance  to  do  yet? Oh  yeah,  I  would  love  to  move  beyond  just   standalone  2-­‐D  pieces  of  art  and  tell  more   complex  stories,  through  other  mediums   like  comics,  film  and  video  games.  I  have   done  some  graphics  for  a  SONY  game,  but   I’d  really  love  to  have  a  more  art  direc_ng/

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

15


16

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

17


producing sort  of  role  with  one  of  my  own   stories.  I  have  a  few  things  in  the  works…   Is  8-­‐bit  art  sIll  niche,  or  has  it  gone   mainstream?  Is  it  accepted  by  the  art  world?   Do  you  feel  accepted  as  an  arIst,  or  does   digital  design  sIll  carry  a  sIgma?  What   relaIon,  if  any,  do  you  have  to  the  tradiIonal   art  world? I  think  it’s  definitely  a  marketable  style  now,  in   that  there  are  art  directors  ac_vely  proposing   it  to  clients  and  searching  out  ar_sts   (some_mes  me!)  who  can  execute  it  for  their   projects.  It’s  a  niche  style  for  certain,  but  so   are  most  styles  when  you  think  about  it.  It   does  have  its  detractors  of  course,  mostly   older  people  who  don’t  quite  “get  it”,  but  even   in  the  design  community  there  are  some   people  who  think  it’s  “gimmicky”,  but  that’s   okay  by  me.  As  long  as  there  are  some  that   appreciate  its  beauty  and  humor,  I’m  sa_sfied.

18

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16

What  does  the  future  hold  for  digital  design?   What  excites  you  about  the  future? A  lot  of  my  commercial  work  is  for  magazines,   and  there’s  some  trepida_on  in  the  illustra_on   and  photographic  community  that  “the  death   of  print”  with  the  advent  of  more  tablet   devices  will  put  us  all  out  of  business.  There   are  others  that  say  we  need  to  learn  how  to   animate  our  work  because  in  the  future  these   digital  magazines  will  all  need  to  be  filled  with   flashy  moving  pictures!  I  say,  do  what  you  love,   do  it  really  freaking  well,  and  there  will  always   be  a  need  for  your  crea_vity,  whether  it’s   print,  interac_ve,  or  some  new  form  of  media   in  the  future.  I’m  looking  forward  to  being  able   to  project  my  art  directly  into  people’s  brains   via  the  iPhoneXYZ,  or  whatever  crazy   technology  is  next!  < www.judebuffum.com


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

19


20

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

21


22

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

23


24

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Cristina  Venedict cristinavenedict.ro

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

25


Norio Fujikawa Currently based  in  San  Francisco,  I  am  a  product  designer  by   trade  and  have  been  doing  it  professionally  for  a  while  (longer   than  I’d  care  to  admit).  When  I’m  not  working  at  my  9  to  5,  I   try  to  find  the  Ime  to  sketch,  paint,  or  make  3D  models.   Characters  to  robots  to  vehicles,  I  love  puXng  all  the  ideas   floaIng  around  in  my  head  out  in  some  way.  Just  got  a  3D   printer  that  I’m  anxious  to  get  up  and  running! I  grew  up  reading  classic  manga  and  watching  a  lot  of  anime,   sci-­‐fi,  and  fantasy  films.  So,  as  you  can  imagine,  the  amazing   visions  and  designs  of  those  arIsts  have  greatly  influenced  my   work.  I  remember  reading  books  over  and  over  such  as  Cyborg   009,  Ginga  Tetsudo  999,  Captain  Harlock,  Black  Jack,   Doraemon,  Dr.  Slump,  Dragon  Ball  or  siXng  down  for  the  first   Ime  to  watch  Yamato,  Gundam,  reruns  of  Mazinger,  Kamen   Rider,  or  Ultraman  (7  was  always  my  favorite).  Old  sci-­‐fi  shows   like  Thunderbirds  or  Space  1999  with  their  amazing  vehicles   have  lee  quite  an  impression  on  me  too.  Of  course  film  has  a   done  a  lot  to  inspire  me.  I  have  to  run  out  and  see  any  and  all   films  with  effects  in  it,  live  acIon  or  animaIon.

26

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

27


28

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

29


30

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

31


32

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

33


34

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

35


36

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Norio Fujikawa behance.net/Peanuts23

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

37


THE ENTANGLED PAVILION MICHAEL JANTZEN

38

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


The Entangled  Pavilion   is  one  in   a  series  of  my  design  studies   that   explore   new   ways   in   which   archi-­‐   tecture   can   be   reinvented  in  order  to  become  more  responsive  to  the  people   who   use  it.  This  is  a  design  study  for  a  new  kind  of  interac_ve   architecture. The   structure  consists  of  a  large   steel  support  frame  (that  can   be   covered  with  a  glass  canopy)  and  four  movable  steel  shade   roof   segments.   Each   of   the   segments   are   connected   to   the   support   frame   at   a   center   pivot   mast.   Two   electric   powered   motorized   wheels   are   a`ached   to   the   base   of   each   of   the   shade   roof   segments.   The   wheels   run   in   tracks   that   are   mounted   around   the   perimeter   of   the   large   support   frame.   The  motorised  wheels  and  perimeter   tracks  allow   each  of  the   four   shade  roof   segments  to  be  moved  independently  around   the   sup-­‐   port   frame   into   many   different   configura_ons.  The   en_re   pavilion   is   powered   by   a   large   circular   solar   panel   mounted  on  the  top  of  the  structure. There   is   a   built-­‐in   sta_onary   cylindrical   pedestal   under   the   support   frame   at   the   center.   Mounted   onto   the   top   of   the   pedestal   is   a   large   detailed   steel   model   of   the   Entangled   Pavilion,  with  movable  shade   roof  seg-­‐  ments.  Visitors  to   the   pavilion   can   interact   with   the   full   sized   structure   by  moving   the  segments  of  the  model  into   various  configura_ons.   When   they  have  formed   the   model   of  the  pavilion  into  the  desired   shape,  they  simply  need   to  press  the   “move”   bu`on.  At  this   point,  the   model  is  automa_cally  held  into  the   selected  posi-­‐   _on  un_l   the   full   size   structure   automa_cally   moves   into   the   same  rela_ve  posi_on  as  the  model.  In  this  way,  the  full  sized   structure  can   be   formed  and  reformed  con_nually  in   order   to   accommodate   the   changing   needs   and/or   desires   of   the   visitors. michaeljantzen.com/Welcome.html

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

39


40

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

41


42

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

43


Thoughts of  Art  and  Time  Travel Sarah  Ahmad

About a  hundred   and   twenty   years   ago   someone   had   just  hurriedly   laid   his  bed,   dusted  a   table  of   dry   white   crumbs,   mounted   a   white   canvas,   wet   his   brush   and   lathered   it   with   paint,   squished   onto   a  grainy   wooden   plate.  The  sun  drenched  wheat  fields  outside  or   the  four   walls  of   his  space,  and  some_mes  a  face  he  had  olen   forgo`en,  became  strokes  of  blue  and  yellow,   of   life  and   art.   More   than   a   hundred   years   later,   mirror   shine   floors,   white   washed   walls   and   a  space   big   enough   to   plant   a  wheat  field  was  garnered  into  an  exhibi_on  hall,   walls  mounted  with  colourful  canvasses,  and  beside  that   a   name,   Vincent   van   Gogh.     Art,   through   pictures,   pain_ngs   and   drawings   and   some_mes   drama_c   portrayal   of   moving   creatures,   can   suddenly   transport   us  from   now   to   then.   Wheat   fields  to   Self   Portraits,   a   Rural  Worker  to   an  Asylum;  we  can   live  through  the  life   and  _mes  of  Vincent  van  Gogh,  the  ar_st. The  year  2001,  Pablo  Picasso  surprisingly   appears  at  the   Na_onal   Museum   in   New   Delhi,   and   through   the   shapes,   colours   and   people   he   draws   we   can   almost   paint  our  voyage   and  once  again  travel  through  his  age   of   glory,   love,   lust   and   darkness.   Picasso   leaves   us   behind,  too  soon,   and   gives  us  a  world   away   from  ours.   If   in  _me  a   _me   machine  is  ever  made,  it  could   never   travel  down  this  road  of  shapes,  strokes  and  paint  like  a   pain_ng   could.   He   leaves   behind   on   large   hearted   canvasses  flashes  of   personali_es  and   people,   of   wars  

44

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16

‘As we  speak,  read   and  listen,  Ime   machines  are  being   built’

and creatures,   Gertrude  Stein’s  presence  in   his   life  and   an   emo_onal   rapture   during   the   Spanish   Civil   War   in   ‘Guernica’.   Great   stories  of   heart,   history   and   art   and   some_mes   li`le   stories   of   courage   on   paper   and   canvas,   which   could   be  found  mounted   on   walls  of  Art   Museums  and   Galleries  or  tucked  in  racks,  piles  and  alley  ways,  it  could   be  a  story   closer  to   some  and   an   inspira_on   for  many   more  years  to  come. Art   is  warmer   than   you   think;   a   closer  look   into  one’s   closet,   grandma’s   red   kni`ed   sweater   and   an   embroidered  scarf,  photographs  of   vehicles  and  people,   window  grills,  black  and  twirled  onto  frames,  weathered   finds   by   grandfather,   mother’s   long   brown   easel,   some_mes   _me   travel   is   all   we   really   do;   boxed   in   drawers   and  chests,  store  rooms   and  studios   of  a  1950s   house,   shared,   shown   and   many   a  _mes  framed,   now   rusted,   but   never   forgo`en,   pictures   and   photos   of   those   olden   _mes,   never   lived   through,   yet   captured   skilfully  through  vintage  clicks,  _me  does  stop  and  travel   back,  many  a  _mes,  only  in  our  back  yards  and  minds.   Time  travel  has  always  intrigued   human  beings,   we  may   not  skip  and  go   to   the   future   or   live  in  older  _mes,  but   curiosity  has  driven  us  to  do  things  that  could  re-­‐define   _me  travel,  unravelling  and  discovering  things  from  the  


Gertrude Stein,  1905-­‐06,  Ar_st:  Pablo  Picasso

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

45


past, leaving   behind   thoughts  through   objects  of   daily   use,  a  memento  passed   on   from   one  genera_on  to  the   next,   _me   and   travel   have   made  us   philosophers   and   creators,   inventors  and   some_mes  destroyers.     A   few   paragraphs   in   a   New   York   Times   ar_cle*   describes   a   Time   Capsule,   built   in   the   year   1939   by   the   Wes_nghouse   Corpora_on   of   America.   It   contains   objects   like   microfilms,   news   reels,   photographs   of   baseball   games,   coal   and   asbestos  and   things  of   daily   life.   The   torpedo   shaped   cylinder   with   its   contents   would  lay  hidden  and  aler  5,000  years   someone  would   find   the   “Book   of   Records”   to   eventually   find   the   capsule.  The  year  6939,   someone  would  unravel  history   through  this  ar_s_c   puzzle  and  through  li`le   things  we   used,  the  pen  we  wrote  with,  the  films  that  reeled  on  a   screen  or   metallic   hangers  that  held   our  coats,   human   kind   5000  years  into   the   future  would   have   something   to  think  about,  dissect  and  debate  on.

buildings and   graffi_   art   of   expression,   abstract   sensi_vi_es,   simple   reali_es   in   farms   and   old   built   places,  between  trees,  long   lost   sail  boats  in   u`er  blue   sea  or   red   tulips   in   large   fields  of   green,   the   years   of   Moulin   Rouge,   the   tombs   of   Mughal   India,   the   possibili_es  of   things  unknown,  and  a   future   that  could   have  been.   Dark  sand  under  my  feet,  a  yellowish  blue  horizon,  flat   rocky   hills,   we   move   back,   stopped   by   a   creature,   a   human   perhaps   in   the   middle   of   it   all,   mel_ng   metal   clocks  and   bare   barks,   a   distant   past   and   a   forgo`en   future,  a  loud  noise  in  my  head,  and  here  I  stand  before   it  all,  in  front   of  dreams  and  no_ons,  The  Persistence   of   Memory   stares   right   back.   Salvador   Dali   painted   something  that  we  associate   with  dreams  and  a  surreal   reality,   but   olen   in   spite   of   all   the   daily   clutches   and   chores,  we  live  through  a  sudden  bout  of  inspira_on  and   some_mes  we  revel  in  a  surreal  mind.  

If I   could   build   a   _me   machine   with   metal   flanks,   fly   through  thin  air,   far   to   the  past  and  away  to  the  future,  I   would  go  back   to   the  _me  of   cafes   where  writers  met   painters  and  thinkers,   I  would  bring  them  to  the  present   and  make  them  shape  our  tomorrow,  I  would  then   like   to  visit  the  future,  of  deeper  thoughts  and   bigger   ideas.   A   world   renowned   Indian   painter,   a   pain_ng   olen   of   reality   in   an   abstract   nature,   was   the   beginning   of   an   Ar_st’s  Society  in  India;  horses,  people,  eras  and  heroes,   he   drew   things   that   inspired   him   or   some_mes   even   disturbed   him,   but   with   strokes   that   made   a   na_on   think   about   art   again,   about   their   people,   films   and   theories  yet  again,   but  lel  it  there,  too  far   for   some  to   understand.  His  work  makes  us  travel  to  the  _mes  when   he   sat   there,   somewhere   in   the   middle,   in   his   own   gallery,   readily   asking   names   of   admirers,   signing   all   those  bits  of  paper  and  lined  pages  in   books  and  copies.   You  olen  think   where  they  are,  but   when   at  an   exhibit,   or   a   friend’s   place   you   suddenly   turn   around,   and   a   horse  painted   by   MF   Husain   stares   right   back   at   you,   you  remember  the  fading  legacy  of  a  thinking  ar_st.  

Mind does   travel  fast,   so   does  _me;   we   leave   behind   things   but   more   importantly   people,   and   some_mes   carry   things   by   them,   dream  of   them  and   write   about   them,  things  that  make  us  travel  to  the   past   and  think   about   a   future.   The   early   90s   Child   of   India   was   no   different   from   the   many   children   of   that   era,   rhymes   and  stories  of  Humpty   Dumpty  and   the  big   bad   wolf,   a   wish  and   a  dream,  fantasies  and  bright   green  parks  with   wooden   swings.   But   for   most,   rhymes   like   ‘Ek   Chidya,   Anek   Chidya’   (one  bird,  many  birds)   united  the  thought   process  of  school  going  children  of   India  in  those  _mes.   When   we  listen  to  it  today  we  are  subtly  transported  to   the  early  90s,  of  simple  anima_on  yet   big   talk.    It  takes   you   back   to   the   days  of   Doordarshan   (one  of   the   first   Indian   Television   channels)   and   some_mes   into   our   living  rooms,  rust  and   green,  the  sound   of   the  vegetable   seller   or  the  smell   of   dal  in  the   kitchen.  These  are   not   only  memories,  but  day  dreams  of   reality,  living   back   in   _me,   listening   to   and   watching   those  things  that   were   there,  and  some  which  s_ll  are.  

If I  could  be  a   _me   machine  with  wings  so  wide  which   could  stretch  across  the  earth,  then  I  would  just  fly  high   and   away,   to   places   where   Picasso   met   his   pain_ng,   where  Van   Gogh  would  paint  again,  and  fear   a  future   of   metal   rods   and   tech   loaded   interac_on,   lonely   self   sustained  places,  wired  spaces  and   growing   differences.   Art   wakes   us   up,   shows   us   things   that   were   there,   yellow   simple  fields,   Marilyn   Monroe  posters,   coloured  

As we  speak,   read   and  listen,   _me  machines  are  being   built;   an  ar_st  in  Netherlands  prepares  a   canvas,  paints   darkness  and  sunlight,  a  boy  in  New  Mexico  sprays  out  a   graffi_  on  a  white  bricked   wall,  in  a  cafe  along  the  River   Thames  someone  writes  about  fear  and   love,  someone   else  plans  to  make  a  workable  route  finder   for  the  blind,   a  woman  films  a  documentary  on  the  streets  of  Benaras,   a  photographer  captures  a  moment   in   _me,   an  ar_san  

46

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Top: Wheat  Field  with  Cypresses,  1889,  Ar_st:  Vincent  van  Gogh Below:  Two  Horses,  Ar_st:    MF  Husain

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

47


A man  pours  powder  into  the  Time  Capsule  (designed  and  developed  by  The  Wes_nghouse  Corpora_on  in  1939)  during  its   prepara_on

48

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


in Kutch   embroiders  a  sari;  hence,  as  we   wake  up   today,   someone,   somewhere   has   just   captured   the   days   into   capsules   of   canvas,   on   glossy   photo   sheets,   fabrics   of   chiffon,   in   film   reels   and   on   bricked   walls,   unveiled   another   era   of   _me   travel.   And   through   this   _me   I   wander,   will  not  end  here   nor  will  these  words,  because   art  seems  to  have  pulled  me  in  many  different  direc_ons,   towards  my  life  in  the  room  I  sit   in,  towards  the  outside   where   I   drink   my   evening   tea,   and   towards   thoughts,   that  make  me  form   words,  a  pain_ng  of  a   pink  tulip  I  sit   beside,   or  a  creek  of   leaves,   the  black   and  white  in  my   studio,   or   the   rugged   empty   sounds   of   the   roads   this   home  lazes  in.  Art  has  a  quality  to  begin  a  thought,  for  a   person  to  think,  a  thinker   to   paint,   to   act  and  direct,   to   sculpt   and  create,  a  future  with   a  past,   an   idea  from   a   thing  and  a  _me  through  its  art.  

*Take one   capsule   and   call   us   in   5,000   years,   Caitlin   Lovinger,   Learning   Network,   Teacher   ConnecIons,   New   York  Times,  December  28,  1998 www.nyImes.com/learning/teachers/featured_arIcles/ 19981228monday.html

The Persistence  of  Memory,  1931,  Ar_st:  Salvador  Dali

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

49


Rogério Degaki Apresentado em  duas  divisões  separadas  por  um  largo  corredor,  apresento  a  visão   de  um  mundo  an_-­‐gravitacional   na  exposição  "A  Sua   Princesa   Está   Noutro   Castelo",  em   Ribeirão   Preto   -­‐  Brasil,  de   Agosto   a  Setembro,  2011,  na   Galeria  Marcelo   Guarnieri.   Inspirado   pelas   cores,  gráficos  e  sons  dos  jogos   vintage  da  geração   2D   (Super  Mario   Bros.),  o  próprio  €tulo  brinca  com  a   referência  a  um  jogo   u_lizado   por  um  jogador  comum,  com  um  protagonista  de  bigode  (Mario)  que  persegue  uma  princesa  raptada  por  um  lagarto  gigante. Durante  a  exposição,  é  apresentado   ao   espectador  um  conjunto  de  esculturas  3D,  onde  a  paralaxe  de   movimentos  das  várias   camadas   pode  erupcionar  neste   espectáculo,  sem  que   se   coloque  qualquer   questão   acerca  da  sua  origem   ou  local.  As  duas  divisões  seguem  os   mesmos   jogos  de  vídeo   num  formato   de  ecrã  único,  as   cores  das  esculturas  e  as  paredes  à  vista  -­‐   Nível  1  (cores  frescas)  e  Nível   2  (cores   quentes)  -­‐  posicionam  o  visitante  em  diferentes  níveis  de  um  desafio  de  experiências  rela_vamente  às  peças  expostas. Para  esta  instalação  em   par_cular,  recrio  uma   atmosfera  tão   pesadamente  baseada  em  reminiscências  pessoais,  que  relaciono  com   o   universo   fantás_co   dos   meus  personagens   animados   favoritos   durante   a  minha   infância.  Esculturas   que,   de  uma   forma   ou   de   outra,   permanecem  na  nossa  re_na  de   amantes   de  arte,   tal  como   o  coelho  de   inox   cromado   dos  80's   do  ar_sta  Americano   Jeff  Koons,  ou   as   peças  de  uma  boneca  manga  dos  90's,  um  peluche  criado  pelo  ar_sta  Japonês  Takashi  Murakami. Os   úl_mos   dez   anos   da   minha   carreira   foram   dedicados   à   construção   de   uma   colecção   variada   e   atrac_va   de   figuras   com   corpos   pequenos  e   cabeças  amplas.   A  par_r   de  desenhos,  entrego-­‐me  ao  trabalho  preciso  de  esculpir   polies_reno.  Depois,  todas  as  esculturas   são  subme_das  a  um  processo  de  acabamento  com  fibras  de  vidro,  resinas  de  plás_co  e  _nta  automo_va. Os   trabalhos   desta   exposição   apenas   se   assemelham   este_camente   à   ideia   dos   objectos   desenhados   em   computadores,   e   são   automa_camente   transferidos   para   linhas   de   montagem   frias   e   distantes   numa   escala   tecnologico-­‐industrial.   Apesar   de   ser   um   arqueologista   espontâneo   de   equipamento   electrónico   e   de   lazer   (média   morto),   a   disciplina   da   confecção   no   estúdio   é   a   verdade   significante  do  meu  trabalho. Shown  between  the  two  rooms  set  apart  by  a  wide  corridor,  I   present  a   vision  of  an   an_-­‐gravity  world  in  the  exhibi_on   ‘Your  Princess   Is   In   Another   Castle’,  in  Ribeirão   Preto   -­‐   Brazil,   from   August   to   September,  2012,   at   Marcelo   Guarnieri's   Gallery.   Inspired   by  the   colors,   graphics  and   sounds  of   vintage   games  from  the  2D   game   genera_on   (Super   Mario   Bros.),  the   very  _tle  refers   with   humor   to   a  game   played  by  an  ordinary  player,  a  game  which  has  a  mustachioed  protagonist  (Mario)  running  aler  a  princess  kidnapped  by  a  giant  lizard. During   the   show,  the  viewer   is   presented   to   a   3D   a  set   of   liling  sculptures,   where   the   mul_layer   mo_on   parallax   could   erupt   in   the   exhibi_on  space,  without   leaving  any  ques_ons  about   their   origin   or   event  place.  The  two   rooms  divided  follow   the  same   video  games   single   screen   format,  the  colors   of  the   sculptures   and   walls  at  sight   -­‐  Level   1  (cool  colors)   and   Level   2   (warm  colors)   -­‐   which   place   the   visitor  in  levels  of  an  apprecia_on  challenge  of  the  pieces  shown. For  this  par_cular   installa_on,  I  recreate  an  atmosphere  so  heavily  based   on  personal  reminiscences,  related   to  the  fantasy  universe   of   my  childhood's  favorite  cartoon   characters.  Sculptures   that,  in   one  way  or   another,  remain   stuck  in   our   art-­‐lovers  re_na,   as   the  1980’s   stainless  chromed   rabbit   from  the  American   ar_st   Jeff   Koons   or   the   1990’s  doll   mangá   pieces,  plush  made   by   Japanese  ar_st   Takashi   Murakami. The  last   ten   years  of   my  carrer  have   been  dedicated   to  building  an  a`rac_ve   and  varied   collec_on   of   figures  in   large  heads   and   small   bodies.   From  hand   drawing,  I  throw   myself  to   the   precise   work  of   carving  the   Styrofoam.  Then   they  are   all   submi`ed   to  the  finishing   process  with  fiber  glass,  plas_c  resin  and  automo_ve  paint. To   the   unwary,  the  works   of  this   exhibi_on   only   aesthe_cally  resemble  the   idea   of  objects  designed   on   computers   and   automa_cally   transferred   to   the   cold   and   distant   assembly   lines  in   the   technological-­‐industrial   scale.   Even   though   I'm   a   spontaneous   archeologist   researcher   of   electronic  and  recrea_onal  entertainment   (dead  media),  the  discipline  of  the   handcraling  in  the  studio  is  the  significant   truth  of  my  work. Portuguese  transla_on:  Inês  Silveira

50

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

51


52

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

53


54

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

55


56

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

57


58

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


facebook.com/rogeriodegaki

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

59


Pedro Almodóvar TWO OR  THREE  THINGS  I  KNOW  ABOUT  IT (Actors  and  comedy) Comedy  is  the  genre  where  humor  predominates.   There  is  humor  of  various  colors  and  comedies  of   various  kinds,  and  like  all  genres  it  also  combines   with  others,  drama,  tragedy,  social  criticism,  and   multiplies  into  all  kinds  of  bastard,  parodic  genres. There  is  humor  in  all  my  films,  at  times  comedy   bursts  into  other  genres,  embodied  in  one  of  the   characters,  forgive  the  self-­‐quote.  Agrado  (Antonia   San  Juan)  in  “All  About  My  Mother”  and  Paca  (Javier   Cámara)  in  “Bad  Education”  fulfilled  that  function.   When  they  appear  on  scene,  they  bring  comedy  with   them  and  impose  themselves  on  the  general  tone  of   the  narrative.  As  a  writer  and  director  I  really  enjoy   those  kinds  of  incursions  and  it  has  taken  me  time  to   impose  them  in  dramatic  films,  especially  with   Anglo-­‐Saxon  critics,  less  flexible  when  it  comes  to   accepting  a  mix  of  genres,  something  as  natural  in   life  as  it  is  in  cinema.  From  you  get  up  in  the  morning   until  you  go  to  bed  at  night,  you  move  through   various,  sometimes  opposing,  genres.  Since  the  start   of  my  career  that  is  how  I’ve  understood  cinematic   narrative. Within  that  constant  mix  that  I  have  gradually   distilled  over  the  past  thirty  years,  the  last  pure   comedy  that  I  made  would  be  “Women  On  the  Verge   of  a  Nervous  Breakdown”:  In  “Volver”,  “ The  Flower   of  My  Secret”  and  “All  About  My  Mother”  there  is  a   lot  of  humor  but  only  on  occasions  or  attached  to   one  of  the  characters,  as  I  have  explained.  In  “ The   Flower  of  My  Secret”,  Chus  Lampreave-­‐Rossy  de   Palma  is  a  comic  duo,  but  the  theme  was  the   weakness  of  the  writer  Leo  on  her  road  to  madness.   Therefore,  “I’m  So  Excited!”  is  the  first  comedy  I’ve   made  since  “Women  on  the  Verge  of  a  Nervous   Breakdown”,  twenty  five  years  ago.

60

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16

Aspects that  I’ve  kept  very  much  in  mind: Rehearsal/Rhythm.  Despite  the  spontaneity  typical  of   the  genre,  the  comedies  I’ve  made  to  date,  and  this   one  is  no  exception,  are  rehearsed  exhaustively   during  pre-­‐production  and  afterwards  during   shooting.  Spontaneity  is  always  the  product  of   rehearsal. A  script  isn’t  finished  until  the  film  has  opened.  I   rehearse  a  script  as  if  it  was  a  play.  Coincidentally,   both  “Women  on  the  Verge  of  a  Nervous   Breakdown”  and  “I’m  So  Excited!”  seem  like  plays,  in   both  the  action  takes  place  mainly  on  one  set.  I   rehearse  them  like  plays,  but  I  don’t  film  them  like   plays  (in  fact,  I’ve  never  directed  a  play,  I  don’t  know   what  it’s  like).  They’re  very  oral  comedies,  the  action   lies  basically  in  the  words  and  the  characters’   openness. I  usually  improvise  a  lot  in  rehearsals,  then  I  rewrite   the  scenes  and  rehearse  them  again,  and  so  on,  to   the  point  of  obsession.  With  improvisations,  the   scenes  usually  become  longer  but  it’s  the  best  way  I   know  to  find  nuances  and  parallel  situations  that  I   would  never  discover  if  I  stuck  rigidly  to  the  text.   After  stretching  them  out  and  blowing  them  apart,  I   rewrite  them  again,  trying  to  synthesize  what  has   been  improvised.  And  then  we  rehearse  again.  Some   of  the  actors,  especially  Carlos  Areces,  can’t  bear  you   to  cut  a  single  one  of  their  jokes,  even  if  it  has  come   up  while  the  scene  is  looking  for  itself  and  is  not  yet   consolidated.    Everything  that  comes  up  and  involves   his  character  belongs  to  him.  If  it  were  up  to  him,  the   film  would  last  three  hours.  (At  times  I  shoot  two   versions  of  the  same  scene  and  I  admit  that  at  times   I  edit  the  “improvised”  one.)  Lola  Dueñas  is  another   one  who  immediately  appropriates  all  the  antics  that  


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

61


62

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


occur to  me  during  the  first  rehearsals.  Afterwards   it’s  heart-­‐rending  to  tell  her  that  it  was  just  a  game,  a   way  of  stretching,  being  crazy,  investigating,  losing  all   sense  of  the  ridiculous  and  above  all  losing  respect   for  the  text,  and  that  it  was  just  a  mere  exercise.   When  Lola  sees  me  improvising  a  scene  with  her   character,  however  exaggerated  it  may  be,  if  she  likes   it,  she  grabs  on  to  it  and  it’s  impossible  to  convince   her  that  I  wasn’t  being  serious.  I  admit  that  at  times   she’s  managed  to  get  her  own  way.  When  I  had  the   idea  for  the  mise-­‐en-­‐scène  of  the  first  time  she  goes   into  a  trance  in  the  cockpit,  looking  for  sensations   while  groping  the  two  pilots’  bodies,  all  those   involved  laughed,  but  I  never  thought  about  editing   the  scene  like  that  (but  that’s  how  it  is  in  the  film).   After  insisting  a  lot,  Lola  asked  me  to  at  least  look  at   how  she  did  it  and  then  decide,  but  I  had  to  give  her   the  chance  to  play  it  like  that.  She  did  it,  and  after   seeing  it,  I  had  no  option  but  to  include  it.  Lola   Dueñas  is  capable  of  breathing  such  truth  into  the   most  insane  situations  that  she  manages  to  make   any  craziness  plausible. Theater-­‐style  rehearsals  are  aimed  at  achieving   another  key  element  in  comedy:  the  rhythm,  the   timing.  Timing  in  comedy  is  not  like  rational  time.   When  the  actor  gives  his  reply,  he  hasn’t  had  the   physical  or  mental  time  to  assimilate  the  previous   line,  but  he  has  to  deliver  his  at  full  speed.  No  one  is   going  to  wonder  if  he’s  understood  what  was  being   said  to  him,  and  if  a  spectator  does  wonder,  then  it’s   a  bad  sign.  Within  comedy,  the  style  that  teaches  you   about  rhythm  (as  do  all  of  Woody  Allen’s  films,  but  I   think  that’s  because  the  New  York  director  is  in  a   hurry)  is  screwball,  the  crazy  American  comedy.   Think  of  “Midnight”  (Mitchell  Leisen),  “ The   Philadelphia  Story”  (George  Cukor),  “Bringing  Up   Baby”  (Howard  Hawks),  “Ninotchka”  (Billy  Wilder),   “The  Palm  Beach  Story”  (Preston  Sturges),  “ To  Be  or   Not  To  Be”  (Ernst  Lubitsch),  “Easy  Living”  (Mitchell   Leisen),  “Sullivan’s  Travels”    (Preston  Sturges),  and  in   general  any  comedy  where  the  comeback  is   delivered  by  Cary  Grant,  Carole  Lombard  or   Katherine  Hepburn.  (Marilyn  is  a  goddess  of  the   genre  but  she  had  her  own  rhythm,  a  lethal  rhythm.     Seductresses  in  general  need  that  rhythm  in  order  to   seduce.  Marlene  Dietrich,  even  when  directed  by  

Lubitsch, never  managed  to  talk  quickly.  They  are  the   exceptions.  Beautiful  stars,  male  or  female,  aren’t   usually  good  comic  actors.  Let’s  add  Sophia  Loren   and  Penélope  Cruz  to  the  list  of  exceptions.  Both  are   gorgeous  and  they  can  also  talk  at  breakneck  speed,   but  of  course  one  passes  as  a  Neapolitan  and  the   other  is  from  Alcobendas.)  But,  for  example,   Claudette  Colbert  can  talk  a  blue  streak,  and  Ginger   Rogers  and  also  Katherine  Hepburn,  who  is  very   beautiful  to  contemporary  eyes  but  was  odd  for  the   canons  of  the  time. Timing.  Rapid-­‐fire  dialogue.  Rehearsals.  Otherwise,   even  though  the  situations  are  funny,  and  the  actors   excellent  and  with  resources,  the  film  becomes  long   and  so  do  the  scenes.  I  don’t  want  to  point  the   finger,  but  one  example  of  this  problem  is   “Bridesmaids”.  The  director  lets  the  actresses   improvise  until  they  come  up  with  the  right  joke.  You   shouldn’t  improvise  in  front  of  the  camera  but  long   beforehand.  To  crown  it  all,  both  the  editor  and  the   director  are  in  love  with  the  actresses  and  the   material  shot.  The  result  is  an  attractive  film,  but  one   that  lasts  125  minutes  (it  is  saved  because  Kristen   Wiig  and  Melissa  McCarthy  are  wonderful   comedians).  Another  golden  rule:  comedies   shouldn’t  last  more  than  an  hour  and  a  half.  You  just   have  to  see  how  the  ones  we  like  most  usually  last   between  75  and  90  minutes. The  rhythm  depends  on  the  actors  and  the  editing.   There  are  schools  that  favor  this  rhythm  and  schools   that  are  an  attack  against  it.  Among  the  former,  it   helps  to  have  a  lot  of  experience  in  sub-­‐products   (vampires,  zombies,  diabolical  possessions,  aliens,   robots,  espionage,  etc.)  or  to  come  from  cabaret.   Both  experiences  are  the  best  schools.  Cabaret  as   understood  in  the  Mediterranean  or  Anglo-­‐Saxon   way.  To  me,  for  example,  “Saturday  Night  Live”   seems  like  cabaret,  the  cradle  for  decades  of  the  best   American  comics.  The  Actor’s  Studio  however,  with   all  the  respect  and  admiration  it  deserves,  seems  just   the  opposite  to  me.  Brando,  a  comedy  actor?  No.   And  he  tried  it.  He  even  sang  and  danced  in  “Guys   and  Dolls”  (Joseph  L.  Mankiewicz),  stiff  as  a  board,   but  Brando  was  too  self-­‐aware.  I  don’t  know  if   Montgomery  Clift  ever  actually  tried  it  but  I  can’t  

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

63


imagine him.  Or  James  Dean.  Or  Daniel  Day-­‐Lewis.  I   don’t  debate  his  greatness  (or  that  of  any  of  them),   but  no  matter  how  thin  he  is,  Daniel  Day-­‐Lewis  can’t   manage  to  give  the  slightest  sensation  of  lightness.   Marilyn  Monroe  is  still  the  exception.  Adopted  by  the   Strasbergs,  she  managed  to  overcome  the  weight  of   the  Method. In  any  case,  going  back  to  the  subject  of  men  and   comedy,  in  the  golden  era  of  screwball,  the  30s  and   40s,  even  if  you  weren’t  a  great  comic  actor  or  you   couldn’t  be  compared  with  the  Absolute  King,  Cary   Grant,  if  you  had  a  good  script  and  were  good   looking,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  Ernst  Lubitsch,   Mitchell  Leisen,  Preston  Sturges,  Billy  Wilder,  George   Cukor  or  Howard  Hawks,  you  could  pass  yourself  off   with  dignity  as  a  comic  actor.  Not  just  Joel  McCrea   and  Gary  Cooper,  even  the  excessively  macho-­‐men   types  like  Clark  Gable,  James  Stewart  or  John  Wayne   emerged  unharmed,  quite  attractive  and  very  well   dressed  in  legendary  comedies.  Once  you  lost  the   freshness  of  the  early  twenties,  you  could  let   yourself  go,  get  on  a  horse,  well-­‐armed,  and  become   a  legend  of  the  West. Another  model  that  escapes  the  norm  is  actors  or   actresses  with  charm.  Audrey  Hepburn  is  the   epitome  along  with  Shirley  MacLaine.  Both  were  a   genre  in  themselves.  And  Cary  Grant,  always.  And   Rex  Harrison  and  his  wife  Kay  Kendall.  Charm  and   class.  Or  prominent  teeth,  Carol  Burnett,  Marta   Fernández  Muro,  or  simply  being  English,  Maggie   Smith.  Or  verging  on  being  a  clown,  Rosalind  Russell,   Lucille  Ball,  Lina  Morgan.  Or  a  regular  guy,  Jack   Lemmon,  or  just  ugly  and  sarcastic,  Walter  Matthau.   Having  an  odd,  almost  shrill,  voice  also  helps  and   works  very  well  in  this  genre,  Judy  Holliday,  Gracita   Morales,  Verónica  Forqué.  I  should  name  a  French   comedian...  Here’s  one,  Arletty,  a  woman  who  was   several  decades  ahead  of  her  time  in  her  way  of   acting,  direct  and  contemporary.  The  above   mentioned  characteristics  would  be  of  no  use  if  they   weren’t  accompanied  by  loads  of  talent,  as  is  the   case  with  all  of  them. Some  ladies  and  men  of  film  noir  managed,  thanks  to   good  scripts  and  a  sense  of  rhythm,  to  be  really   funny.  The  prize  goes  to  Humphrey  Bogart  and   Lauren  Bacall.  And  Myrna  Loy  with  William  Powell  in  

64

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16

the very  funny  “ The  Thin  Man”  saga.  They  stretched   the  characters  created  by  Dashiell  Hammett  into  six   feature  films,  always  overflowing  with  charm,  style   and  wit.  This  brings  us  to  another  of  the  essential   keys  that  a  comedy  must  respect:  couples. When  the  miracle  of  chemistry  between  two  or  more   actors  arises,  everything  must  be  put  at  its  service.  In   comedy,  as  in  other  genres,  the  chemistry  between   couples  is  sacred  and  has  produced  results  that  are   history  in  the  memory  of  this  notable  hundred-­‐year   old  art.  Katherine  Hepburn  and  Cary  Grant,  Walter   Matthau  and  Jack  Lemmon,  Jack  Lemmon  and  Shirley   MacLaine,  Diane  Keaton  and  Woody  Allen,  Rafaela   Aparicio  and  Florinda  Chico,  Katherine  Hepburn  and   Spencer  Tracy,  Bogart  and  Bacall,  Carole  Lombard   and  any  other  actor  they  put  beside  her,  Fernán   Gómez  and  Analía  Gadé,  Loren  and  Mastroianni,   Vittorio  de  Sica  and  all  his  partners,  Tony  Leblanc  and   Conchita  Velasco,  López  Vázquez  accompanied  by   Gracita  Morales,  Alfredo  Landa,  Manuel  Alexandre  or   any  actor  of  their  generation,  Maria  Luisa  Ponte,  Laly   Soldevila  also  with  any  actor  or  actress,  Luis  Ciges,   alone  or  in  the  company  of  others,  Tota  Alba,  Trini   Alonso,  Pajares  and  Esteso,  Edgard  Neville  and   Conchita  Montes,  Martes  and  Trece,  Tip  and  Coll  and   so  many  others.  I  didn’t  intend  to  include  Spanish   actors  so  that  there  should  be  no  comparative   insults,  but  I  couldn’t  help  it.  There  are  many  more   than  those  mentioned. I’m  a  great  admirer  of  the  Spanish  school  of  acting,   and  the  Mediterranean  school  in  general.  I  wouldn’t   include  them  in  the  screwball  style  (in  the  30s  and   40s  Spain  wasn’t  in  any  condition  to  make  crazy   comedies,  our  tragic  reality  only  allowed  for   cinematic  escapism  via  quaint,  traditional,  very   honorable  comedies).  But  the  Mediterranean  school   has  its  own  entity,  it  is  an  identifiable  school  in  the   way  it  tackles  all  the  genres,  and  it  is  very  different   from  the  British  or  American  schools,  or  the  French,   which  obviously  I  don’t  include  even  though   geographically  it  is  Mediterranean. In  the  Mediterranean  school,  what  dominates  is  the   characters’  passion,  carnality  and  openness,  as  if  the   characters  didn’t  respect  themselves  or  others.  This   characteristic  is  something  that  suits  comedy  very   well.  The  women  and  men  are  made  of  flesh  and  


blood, they  haven’t  been  to  the  hairdresser’s,  and   they  shout  a  lot,  they  lose  control,  it  seems  they’re   going  to  devour  each  other,  even  though  afterwards   everything  is  resolved  as  it  should  be,  in  bed.  They   are  less  elegant  than  the  Saxons,  but  sexier.  This   closeness  to  the  earth  and  reality  allows  the   Mediterranean  school  to  talk  about  social  problems   with  great  humor,  laughing  at  life’s  limitations  and   tragedies,  depending  on  the  era,  and  letting  light  and   laughter  break  through  the  blackness.  A  maestro,   unclassifiable  and  unique,  who  worked  with  the   greatest  local  exponents  of  this  way  of  acting  was   Luis  García  Berlanga.

subject than  Nazism.  Should  the  Monty  Pythons,   Mae  West  or  Saturday  Night  Live  be  politically   correct?  No. “I’m  So  Excited!”  is  about  to  land  on  our  screens.  I   have  to  thank  all  the  actors  for  their  blind,  total   commitment.  Now  we  just  have  to  wait  for  someone   to  laugh,  or  smile,  or  leave  the  cinema  in  a  better   mood  than  when  they  entered.  After  all,  that’s  what   comedy  is,  and  it’s  no  small  thing.

Light and  artifice.  The  kind  of  comedy  that  inspired   “I’m  So  Excited!”  is  stylistically  very  artificial,  the   lighting  and  the  settings  crackle  with  pastel  colors,   underscored  by  red,  that  deliberately  avoid  realism   and  naturalism.  Humor  shouldn’t  worry  about   political  correctness,  in  fact,  just  the  opposite.  Taboo   and  humor  are  two  antagonistic  concepts.  Comedy   of  any  kind  allows  you  to  tackle  all  subjects,  even  the   most  shocking.  In  1940,  the  genius  Charlie  Chaplin   dared  to  make  the  imminent  Nazism  the  subject  of  a   delicious  comedy.  I  can’t  think  of  a  more  terrifying  

Images courtesy  of  Pathé  Productions  Ltd

Pedro Almodóvar

Pedro’s new  film  ‘I’m  So  Excited!’  is  released  in  the  UK   on  3  May  2013 facebook.com/Im-­‐So-­‐Excited-­‐Movie-­‐UK

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

65


66

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Stephen Harwood  paints  landscapes  that  are  half-­‐remembered  loca_ons  from  his  own  childhood,  yet  informed  by   images  from  the  Shell  Guides  to  England,  published  just  before  and  just  aler  the  Second  World  War.  Images,  then,  from   a  past  he  cannot  have  lived,  but  which  accompanied  his  family  on  childhood  rides  through  the  English  countryside.  The   pain_ngs  are  also  in  fact  re-­‐workings  of  photos  taken  by  the  ar_st  John  Piper  of  sights  from  Harwood's  own  Shropshire   landscape.  Piper's  idiosyncra_c  photographs  are  invested  with  a  curious  melancholy  that  maps  the  distance  between   Harwood  and  his  past,  a  new  Shropshire  lad  whose  past  can  only  be  re-­‐invented. Keran  James,  Studio  1.1

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

67


68

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

69


The Foot Felicity Notley

70

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Mrs McIntyre  was  not  overly   surprised  when   she  found  a  severed   foot  in  her  bag.    That  was  the  kind   of   prank  the  medical  students  of  Edinburgh  liked  to  play. However,  when   she   upturned  her  bag   and  allowed   the  foot  to  fall  heavily  onto   the  worktop  she  was   given  pause. There   were  curling   black   hairs   clinging   to   the   bleached   skin  and  the  foot   was  on   the  large  side,  so   probably  a  man’s.    A   clinical  smell  mingled  unprofitably   with  the  smell  of  meat.    Her  first  thought  was  to   get  it  out  of  the  kitchen   as  soon  as  possible   and  give  it  a  decent  burial.    But  for  some  reason  she  delayed   this  appropriate  act. When   her   husband   came  home   she  informed  him,   ‘There’s  a   foot   on  the  kitchen   table.     Do   not  be   alarmed.’ He  took  it  well  and  aler  dinner  was  even  happy  to  dry   the  dishes  and  move   around  this   unfortunate   isolated  body  part,  as  if  it  might  really  have  belonged  there. Aler  supper  they  watched  the  news  and  Mrs  McIntyre  (whose  first  name  was  Gwynneth)  snuck  back  to   look  at  the  foot.     She  stared   at  it  un_l   a  crease  formed  between  her  eyebrows.    She  then  returned  to   her   husband  and  leant  against  him  on  the  sofa.     On   the  black   and  white  screen   they  were  showing  a  party  in   a  field.    The  men   and  women  had   flowers   in  their  hair.    There  was  a  hand-­‐wri`en  sign  lying  beside  them  on  the  grass. In  the  morning  Mr  McIntyre  was  firm.    The  foot  had  to  go. ‘Yes,  indeed,’  said  Mrs  McIntyre,  and  she  took  a  fine  linen  tablecloth,  hand-­‐embroidered  in  Ireland,   and   in  this  she  carefully  wrapped  the  pale,  clammy  foot. She  then   went  out  to  the  bo`om  of   the  garden.    She  laid  the  foot,  s_ll  swathed  in   white,  on  the  green   grass  and  dug  a  hole  one  foot  deep  and  one  foot  in  diameter.     She  placed  the  bundle  within  the  hole  and   covered   it   generously   with   earth.     She   hauled   the   birdbath   from   its   usual   posi_on   next   to   the   wild   rosebushes  and  used  it  as  a  gravestone. For  a  while  all  was  well. The  birds   loved  the  new  posi_on  of   the   birdbath  and  they  swooped  down  to  it  to  wash  and  take  their   _ny  drinks  more  olen  than  usual. Mrs  McIntyre  –  Gwynneth  –  watched  the  birds  out  of   the   window  and  some_mes  seemed  to  be  quite   happy  to  see  them  having  so  much  fun. Then  one  day  in  December   there  was  a  great   freeze.    The  McIntyre’s  house  was  in   a  fine  posi_on  high   on  a  hill.     From  an  upstairs  window  one  could  see  the  whole  of   the   Edinburgh  skyline  complete  with  the   lonely   white   bones   of   the   abandoned   Greek   temple.     When   it   snowed,   however,   the   roads   became   impassable  and  this  winter  they  were  quite  cut  off.    The  ice  across  the  birdbath  froze,  and  then  cracked.   Mr  McIntyre  said  to  his  wife,  ‘What  really  was  the  story  with  that  foot,  Gwynneth  my  lovely?’ ‘There  is  no  story,’  she  said,  but  she  looked  again  into  her  memory  and  this  _me  she  was  sure. Mrs  McIntyre  turned  to  her  husband  with  the  air  of  one  making  a  confession.    ‘ There  was  a  man  I   once   knew,’  she  began. He  placed  his  fingers  firmly   around   her   arm  and   looked   at  her.   ‘There  is  no  way,’   he   said,  ‘That  foot   could   belong   to   anyone   you  knew.     They   have   strict  guidelines  about  that   sort   of   thing.     In   teaching   hospitals  they  only  use  the  bodies  of  criminals  and  vagrants.    Not  exactly  the  company  we  keep.’    He  tried   to  catch  her  eye,  make  her  laugh. Mrs  McIntyre  didn’t  say   anything.    Over   her  husband’s  shoulder  she  could  see  the   birds  flying  to   and   from  the  birdbath.

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

71


She’s in  the  walls,  she’s  in  the  room,  she’s  in  your  head. Brogan  McCulloch It  had  been  a  week  and  still  no  one  came.  Without  a  handle  on  the  inside  of  the  door  she  could  not  get  out.  In  that  corner  she   sat,  eyes  fixed  on  the  door,  her  way  out.  Her  hunched  body  pressed  tightly  against  the  walls,  clinging  to  the  pattern.  As  time   bleeds,  slowly  she  lurks,  her  hands  on  the  wallpaper  to  caress,  scratch,  rip.  There  is  that  stool  that  stares,  threatens  to  approach.   It’s  short  legs,  although  strong,  she  does  not  believe  are  quick  enough  for  the  chase.  She  laughs  to  herself,  creeps  forward.  The   skin  of  the  stool  slits  open  and  pink  fleshy  innards  are  revealed.  She  pulls  a  little  then  withdraws.  She  takes  refuge  in  the  walls,   where  she  can  hide  in  the  green  that  saturates  the  room.  She  peers  closely  at  the  wardrobe,  it’s  mouth  ajar.  She  had  thought   earlier  she  could  hide  in  there  but  she  did  not  dare  trail  out  the  insides  of  the  man.  So  she  stays  away  and  he  keeps  his  eye  on   the  door...  She’s  in  the  walls,  she’s  in  the  room,  she’s  in  your  head.

72

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

73


74

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


LIFE DRAWING Tribe  correspondent  Francesca  Didymus  discusses  the  revival  in  life   drawing A  dying  art?  Or  an  ‘exclusive’  exercise  for   ar_sts  to  master  the  human  form?  As  I  have   discovered  it  seems  that  neither  of  these   explana_ons  seem  firng  to  the  prac_ce  in   today’s  society.  Un_l  rela_vely  recently,  if  you   had  asked  someone  what  life  drawing  classes   involved,  the  no_on  of  the  prac_ce  as  an   ancient,  perhaps  out  moded  and  boring   ar_s_c  discipline  probably  would  have  been  at   the  forefront  of  most  minds. For  centuries  people  have  been  drawing  the   human  form,  its  crude  origins  can  be  traced  to   sketches  on  cave  walls,  but  is  largely  rooted  in   the  humanist  culture  of  the  ancient  Greeks.   Philosophers  and  ar_sts  were  deeply   interested  in  the  structure  of  the  body,  in   par_cular  the  study  of  anatomy  and  the  later   work  of  Leonardo  Da  Vinci  in  the  fileenth   century.  Michelangelo,  as  heralded  by  the  Art   Historian  Vasari  would  express  the  desire  to   seek  beyond  the  beauty  of  nature,  in  the   pursuit  to  a`ain  true  perfec_on  in  the   depic_on  of  the  human  form.  Furthermore,   the  study  of  the  nude  would  take  prominence   in  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  century   when  ar_sts  were  to  the  study  in  academies,   for  instance;  the  Royal  Academy  of  Arts  and   the  L'Académie  Française.  

However, with  modernism  and  conceptual  art   came  the  rejec_on  of  all  that  had  gone  before.   Looking  forward  rather  than  looking  back  to   an_quity,  ar_sts  morphed  the  figure  into  a   symbol  and  then  gradually  rejected  the   prac_ce  life  drawing  altogether.  The  body   became  a  poli_cal  ba`le  ground,  the  scene  of   feminist  and  feminine  mixed  media  prac_ce   with  only  a  few  prominent  ar_sts  pushing  the   prac_ce  in  a  more  contemporary  light.  In  the   years  to  come,  the  drawing  of  the  human  form   would  gradually  welcome  female  ar_sts.   Consequently,  the  body  began  to  be   implemented  as  a  tool  to  challenge  social  and   gendered  stereotypes  and  thus  the  subject  of   many  psychoanaly_cal  interpreta_ons,  such  as   Lucien  Freud’s  Painter  and  Model  of  1986. So,  why  resurrect  life  drawing  now? Today  life  drawing  is  marketed  as  a  skill   ‘suitable  for  any  ability’  and  is  thus  a  popular   evening  leisure  ac_vity.  Around  the  world  Life   Drawing  classes  a`ract  crowds  of  all  ages  and   abili_es.  Perhaps  in  reac_on  to  constant  media   exposure  to  the  'perfect'  body,  and  certainly   with  the  emergence  of  Burlesque  as   fashionable  entertainment,  the  naked  body   has  a  new  beauty,  glamour,    edginess,  an  

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

75


76

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

77


excitement, a  curiosity.  Here  life  drawing  has   no  s_gma  but  has  been  re  invented  for  people   as  crea_ve  outlet  in  an  underground  scene   with  an  almost  cult  following. Life  drawing  s_ll  remains  a  skilled  study  of  the   human  body,  but  not  all  of  the  classes  are  as   ‘straigh‹orward’  as  a  study  of  the  human   form.  Among  the  most  popular  classes  are   those  finding  a  way  to  re-­‐invent  the   stereotype,  for  instance  the  company  ‘London   Drawing’.  Those  behind  the  reinven_on  are   Anne  Noble-­‐Partridge  and  David  Price.  In   2006,  Anne  and  David  were  asked  to  run  a   pilot  series  of  life  classes  in  the  galleries  at   Tate  Modern,  which  grew  into  a  six  year   project.  As  tutors  they  had  years  of  experience   teaching  life  drawing  in  the  conven_onal  way,   but  when  faced  with  working  in  galleries  full  of   surrealist  art,  abstract  sculpture  or  conceptual   photographs  at  the  Tate  ,  they  realized  that   the  same  rules  and  ideas  just  didn’t  work  any   more.  Realising  this  was  an  amazing   opportunity  to  turn  life  drawing  on  its  head,   they  proceeded  to  scrap  the  rule  book  and   start  again.  They  began  to  ques_on  tradi_onal   prac_ce,  asking  things  such  as  “How  had  art   academies  and  ins_tu_ons  forfeited  such  a   stalwart  of  its  own  heritage?”  And  more   importantly,  how  could  they  make  figura_ve   work  that  is  relevant  today? Anne  -­‐  London  Drawing:  “We  began  by  posing   life  models  in  response  to  the  surroundings.   We  staged  a  class  in  the  Turbine  Hall,  looking   at  the  figure  in  that  vast  space.  We  led  a   workshop  in  the  Kandinsky  exhibiIon,  in  a   room  dominated  by  his  artwork,  with   professional  dancers  improvising  to  the  music   by  Wagner  which  had  inspired  Kandinsky  to   create  the  art.  We  staged  a  performance  in  the   Louise  Bourgeois  retrospecIve  exhibiIon,  with   blind-­‐folded  models  arranged  in  tableaux,   sewing  with  bleeding  hands.”

78

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16

During one  of  their  workshops  in  the  Tate   Modern  the  pair  threw  away  the  rule  book   and  turned  the  concept  of  Life  Drawing  classes   on  its  head.  They  began  to  ques_on  the   prac_ce,  asking  things  such  as  “How  had  art   academies  and  ins_tu_ons  forfeited  such  a   stalwart  of  its  own  heritage?”  And  more   importantly,  how  could  they  make  figura_ve   work  that  is  relevant  today?  They  began  by   staging  a  class  in  the  vast  space  of  the  Turbine   Hall,  their  classes  then  developed  from  the   poses  of  sta_c  bodies  to  professional  dancers   improvising  to  Wagner’s  music  in  front  of   Kandinsky’s  art.  Addi_onally,  the  ‘World  as   Stage’  exhibi_on  was  perhaps  the  first   outlandish  idea  from  the  couple  as  the  en_re   class  involved  a  complete  reliance  on  the   commitment  of  the  par_cipants:  there  weren’t   any  life  models  present.  This  led  London   Drawing  to  completely  change  their  approach   to  drawing  materials  as,  for  example,  in   response  the  Arte  Proveria  collec_on  at  Tate   Modern  which  focused  on  found  and   household  materials,  used  these  same   materials  to  draw  with,    giving  par_cipants   scouring  pads  and  grass  rather  than  pencils.   Drawing  from  the  figure  became  conceptual,   when,  in  response  to  the  2009  Ronnie  Horn   retrospec_ve  at  Tate  Modern,    life  drawings   were  cut  up  and  then  reconstructed  by   par_cipants  groups,    according  to  the  concepts   of  Horn’s  own  drawings.   London  Drawing  ran  these  ground  breaking   workshops  at  Tate  Modern  workshops  for  six   years,  and  wanted  to  con_nue  this  concept-­‐ driven  approach  to  drawing  from  the  figure   and  so  began    The  Drawing  Theatre  drawing   events  at  Ba`ersea  Arts  Centre,  using  space   imagina_vely  and  crea_ng  set  ups  which  were   more  about  atmosphere  and  ideas  than  about   ‘gerng  the  figure  right’. By  working  with  performers,  ar_sts  and   theatre  companies,  London  Drawing  are   rejec_ng  s_gmas  associated  with  life  drawing  


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

79


“We started  working  with   performers  and  arVsts  and   theatre  companies  to   generate  ideas  for  the  class.     The  idea  was  to  facilitate  the   development  of  a  genuinely   creaVve  environment  that   parVcipants  could  explore  in   many  different  ways.  “ Anna,  London  Drawing

80

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


as an  unpopular  prac_ce  for   experienced  ar_sts.  Life  drawing  has  the   ability  to  transcend  linguis_c  and   cultural  barriers,  by  forming  a  group  of   people  with  the  desire  to  study  the   human  form,  its  idiosyncrasy  and   emo_ons. Their  refreshing  approach  gradually   became  more  about  the  atmosphere   and  the  customer’s  ideas  than  about   “gerng  the  figure  right”.  Life  drawing   has  the  ability  to  transcend  linguis_c   and  cultural  barriers,  by  forming  a   group  of  people  with  the  desire  to  study   the  human  form,  its  folds,  contor_ons   and  movements.  Perhaps  life  drawing  is   increasing  in  popularity  because  it   provides  a  simple  form  of  escapism   from  the  monotony  of  life  itself,  and  the   social  and  economic  pressures  that   normally  fill  the  crea_ve  recesses  of  our   minds.  Figura_ve  drawing  enables  one   to  release  their  crea_vity  in  a   comfortable  environment  where  one   will  not  be  judged  for  a  style  but   guided-­‐  akin  to  the  ambience  of  a   teacher  in  a  school  classroom.  London  

Drawing is  leading  the  way  in  Life   Drawing  classes  where  a  lack  of   experience  is  not  a  disadvantage,  but   acts  rather  as  a  means  of  opening  up   one’s  imagina_on  without  limita_ons  or   preconcep_ons  of  how  the  end  product   should  look.  Many  classes  with  a  similar   approach  to  London  Life  Drawing  have   been  emerging  all  over  the  country.   From  Kink  Ink,  The  Drawing  Circus  in   Brighton  to  fancy  dress  Life  Drawing   classes  in  Plymouth,  and  even  Life   Drawing  for  Hen  Par_es,  life  drawing   classes  are  championing  this  refreshing   approach  as  sessions  gradually  become   more  about  the  atmosphere  and   par_cipants  ideas  than  about  “gerng   the  figure  right”.    Thus,  a  more   immersive  approach  to  drawing  the   ‘nude’  is  taking  centre  stage. Francesca  Didymus fran@tribemagazine.org londondrawing.com

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

81


82

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Celeste Rojas  se  ha  dedicado  a  fotografiar  en  los  úl_mos  años  ciudades  la_noamericanas.  Inicialmente  buscó   ficcionar  una  urbe  la_noamericana  genérica  a  través  de  la  serie  La  ciudad  líquida,  que  se  abordó  en  tres  ejes   temá_cos:  la  ciudad  improvisada  -­‐espacios  urbanos  en  los  que  se  responde  a  toda  dificultad  con  lo  que  se   pueda-­‐  la  ciudad  de  nadie  -­‐las  ruinas,  las  edificaciones  que  han  perdido  su  sen_do  de  uso,  pero  donde   persiste  la  huella-­‐  y  la  ciudad  ero_zada  que  incorpora  a  los  habitantes  en  sus  espacios  y  plantea  posibilidades   de  una  relación  “amorosa”  con  los  espacios  de  la  ciudad.  De  la  imaginación  de  una  urbe  la_noamericana,   Celeste,  en  el  proyecto  “El  espacio  de  la  resistencia,  desplazamientos  y  construcciones  del  habitar”  ha   extendido  su  mirada  hacia  la  ruralidad  y  la  posibilidad  de  establecer  diálogos  entre  los  modos  de  habitar  en   ambas  zonas,  insis_endo  en  la  huella  de  los  cuerpos  sobre  las  cosas  y  la  decisión  que  la  subje_vidad  fija  sobre   éstas,  entendiendo  el  habitar  como  un  construir,  como  un  concepto  respecto  del  que  es  necesario  erigir  un   diagnos_co  y  una  reflexividad  que  cues_one  el  ser  del  habitar  e  indague  en  las  posibilidades  de  su  realización   para  cada  cual.  Extensión  del  ojo  que  ha  incluido,  en  esta  obra,  al  audiovisual  y  el  experimento  con  dis_ntos   soportes  en  algunos  casos  ajenos  a  lo  propiamente  fotográfico,  como  el  libro,  con  pretensiones  de  objeto   ar€s_co  en  sí  mismo,  reflexionando  respecto  a  los  usos  y  modos  de  reproducción  de  este  úl_mo  y  la   FotograŒa,  en  el  Arte  y  la  Historia.   Celeste  Rojas  has  spent  the  last  several  years  photographing  La_n  American  ci_es.  Ini_ally,  her  search  looked   to  fic_onalize  a  generic  La_n  Metropolis  across  her  serie  “ The  Liquid  City”,  which  approached  three  thema_c   axises:  ‘ The  Improvised  City’  syncre_c  hybrid  urban  spaces  which  answered  every  difficulty  contending  with   theavailable  resources.  “Nobody’s  City”  focused  on  the  ruins  and  edifica_ons  that  had  lost  their  original  sense   of  use,  but  where  a  trace  persists,  illustra_ng  a  development  in  layers  of  recent  history.  Closed  by  ‘ The   Ero_cized  City’,  which  incorporates  the  inhabitants  within  their  spaces.  Sugges_ng  possibili_es  of  a  love  affair. From  the  imaginary  of  the  La_n  American  city,  Celeste  in  her  project:  “Space  of  The  Resistance:  Displacement   and  Construc_ons  of  Dwell”  has  extended  her  sight  to  rurality  and  the  chance  to  establish  dialogs  between   forms  of  dwellings  in  this  environment;  understanding  this  concept  in  a  sense  of  building,  conceived  to   develop  a  diagnosis  and  a  reflec_on  able  to  ques_on  the  being  by  dwelling,  inquiring  upon  his  chances  of   realiza_on.  This  extended  sight  incorporates  the  audiovisual  component  with  experimenta_on  on  different   media  supports,  even  if  they  are  unrelated  to  the  conven_onal  concept  of  photography,  including  the  book,   which  ponders  about  the  uses  and  ways  of  reproduc_on  with  Photography  in  Art  and  History This  series  is  agglu_nated  as  a  reflec_on  and  a  reverie  Heidegger  longed  for  and  sustained  by  the  subjec_vity   of  a  photographer  who  decided  to  extend  her  approach  to  anyone  who  wants  to  get  involved  with  her   artwork.

CELESTE ROJAS ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

83


84

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

85


86

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

87


88

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

89


StaVonary Lee Auburn

The way   ahead   is   blocked.   They  pause   then   creep,   mostly   they   pause,   fidge_ng   in   their   seats.   The   natural   flow,   choked.  Intermi`ently  someone  will   roll   down  their   window   and   then   aler   a   while  close  it   again.   In   turn,  each   of   them  realise  that  the  shared  delusion  of  the  cool  and  pure  is  nothing  more  than  warm  exhaust  fumes.   If  they  are  listening  to  the  radio,  it  tells  them  the  tailback  is  now  approaching  thirteen  miles. If  they  were  listening,  they  now  try  to  calculate  their  place  in  that  tail. Rubbing  his  hands  over   his  face,  Jon   sneaks  a  glance  at  the   redhead   in   the  dusty  black  Jag.  He  wonders  if  she  would   ever  be  interested  in  a  guy  who  drives  a   Polo.  He  doubts  she  would  care  that   it’s  a  1.6ltr.  Why  would  she?  He  doesn’t.   Jon  allows  himself  a  flee_ng  fantasy,  pulled   through  the  open  windows  of  their   cars,  straddled  on  the  back  seat  of  the   Jag.  He  smells  her   perfume.  Fumbling  with  zips,  belts   and  hooks.  His  vision  now   obscured   by  a  tangle  of   hair  and   pale  

90

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


freckled breasts.  The  radio  is  playing  something  old  and   slow.  With  her  skirt   hitched  up,  they  work   around  her  pan_es.  Breathing  hard,  the  windows  slowly  fog.   Checking  her  make-­‐up   in  the  mirror,  Cassie  works  her   red-­‐hair,  it’s  star_ng  to   lose  body.  The  Jag’s   air-­‐con   has  been   broken   for   over   a  month   and   she’s  annoyed   with   herself   for   not   having   had   it   fixed.  The  air   outside   the  car   s_nks  and   inside  it’s  stale.   At   least   she  doesn’t  have  to   suffer   a  back   seat  full   of  squabbling  kids,  she  smiles.  Fanning  herself,  Cassie  catches  the  eye  of  the   poor   man   in   the   ba`ered   white   Polo,  she   gives  him   a  half   smile  and   a  shrug.  Trying  to   silently  convey,  “Would   you  look  at  this,  are  we   ever  going  to   move  again.”  He  shrugs   in  agreement,  and  then  turns  to   his   kids.  Whatever   he  snarls  seems  to  work,  as  the  children   are  now   s_ll.  She  checks  her  phone  again.   S_ll  no  signal. The  brats  in   the   Polo  stop   messing  about.  Hemmed   in  either  side  by  an   Arc_c  and  a  white  Transit,   Danny  had   found  them  an   amusing  distrac_on.  He   _ps  a  bo`le   of   warm  urine   onto   the  tarmac.   Aler  seeing  the  colour  of  his  piss,  Danny  wonders  if  he  should  see  a  doctor.  He  catches  a   glimpse   of   another   ambulance  speeding   in   the  opposite   direc_on.  Opening  his   door,   Danny   climbs   out   of   his  lime-­‐green   Focus.   Taking   care   not   to   scratch   his   new   car   and   making   sure   not   to   step   in   the   puddle   of   his   oddly   coloured   piddle.  With   the  door   open   he   steps  up   onto  its  exposed   sill.  Now   elevated,   shielding   his   eyes   from   the   glare,   Danny   wishes   he   had   the   telescopic   vision   of   a   superhero  as  he  squints  and  tries  to  see  the  miles  ahead.   If  they  are  listening,  the  radio  tells  them  that  there  have  been  fatali_es.   If  they  were  listening,  then  they  are  glad  they  are  miles  away.

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

91


Peacetime

of happiness  in  childhood  is  the  opportunity  to  see  the  open   land  on  the  clearest  of  days,  to  feel  in  the  grip  of  your  hands  

My memory  of  the  time  before  the  war  is  fragmented.  I  was  

the living  earth  and  inhale  the  perfume  of  crushed  garlic  after  

still new,  I  didn't  hold  on  to  the  fleeting  moments  as  I  would  

a passing  heavy  shower.  If  the  summers  we  inhabit  in  

now. No-­‐one  does  growing  up.  It  is  a  universal  tragedy  that  

adulthood do  not  match  the  joy  of  our  childhoods  I  think  it  

we cannot  remember  our  opening  years  of  life,  they  are  our  

may be  because  we  have  forgotten  how  to  enjoy  these  

most innocent  and  for  many  will  be  our  happiest.  Yet  we  lose  

moments. There  is  a  freedom  in  running  with  complete  

them. How  many  broken  people  would  rest  easier  tonight  if  

disregard through  forests  aglow  in  dappled  sunlight,  or  

they could  recede  once  more  to  the  comfort  of  being  a  

frolicking without  purpose  in  cool  streams  and  waiting  for  the  

helpless child  protected  by  a  watchful  guardian?  What  little  I  

elements to  dry  you;  spread-­‐eagled  on  an  island  rock,  the  

can recall  is  made  up  of  warm  feelings  and  sun-­‐bleached  

sound of  the  rushing  water  cleansing  your  mind.  It  is  good  

snapshots, a  blurry  photo  album  of  things  I'm  not  sure  were  

that these  are  the  things  that  the  conscience  holds  on  to,  not  

ever even  real,  though  some  days  flood  back  when  the  

the hours  spent  wailing  in  uncontrollable  tantrums  and  the  

channels are  opened  in  lucid  clarity.  

mortifying shame  of  the  following  reproaches,  for  I  am  sure  

       If  there  is  one  season  that  correlates  with  the  memories  of  

in truth  there  were  many  more  moments  of  these  kind.  No,  

my earliest  years,  and  I  have  found  I  am  but  one  of  many  in  

for me  the  years  before  the  war  are  radiant.

this respect,  it  is  summer.  I  suspect  it  is  perhaps  an  untruth  

       The  garden  imposes  itself  on  these  memories,  as  if  even  

we all  deceive  ourselves  into  believing,  for  never  do  the  years  

then I  knew  the  important  part  it  would  play  in  my  

shine quite  so  vividly  as  they  did  then.  If  we  could  go  back  

adolescence; scenes  of  playing  or  lounging  in  the  sun,  

and relive  these  days  we  might  find  the  sun  was  not  quite  so  

exploring it's  hidden  worlds  as  any  child  would.  It  was  not  

bright, the  azure  skies  greyer  than  we  imagined  they  would  

grand or  stately  but  maintained  a  quiet  beauty  easily  

be, the  endless  days  brought  to  a  close  by  a  sunset  sooner  

overlooked by  the  wandering  eye.  Ugly  stone  steps  led  to  a  

than expected.  I  wonder  if  all  the  days  of  rain  and  cold  

misshapen, weed-­‐ridden  path  that  wound  its  way  to  an  area  

shutting us  away  indoors  are  forgotten,  so  that  the  brief  

of grass  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  impenetrable  hedges  of  

spells of  fine  weather  meld  into  one  seemingly  infinite  prior  

ivy and  hawthorn.  A  bird  table  stood  ornate  in  the  centre;  

life of  walking  among  lush  grasses  and  across  pebbled  

often timid  birds  would  dart  and  bathe  in  the  water  and  I'd  

beaches. Weeks  where  the  fields  would  be  blanketed  by  a  

watch them  with  languishing  interest  from  my  window  

constant layer  of  mown  grass,  which  you  pile  into  large  

above. A  wooden  gate,  almost  hidden  within  the  dense  

mounds and  crash  into;  thoughtless  of  the  dangers  or  

hedges and  overwhelmed  by  twisting  ivy,  led  to  a  more  open  

unpleasant matters  possibly  lurking  within.  You  emerge  

area. Here,  beside  a  tidily  kept  lawn,  a  small  garden  grew.  

scruffy haired  and  out  of  breath,  blades  of  grass  sticking  to  

Delicate rose  bushes,  often  only  blossoming  one  defiant  

your tongue,  only  to  be  pelted  in  the  face  by  a  coarse  tuft  of  

flower a  year,  lived  among  patches  of  strawberries  and  other  

the stuff,  thrown  by  a  laughing  friend.  I  suppose  I  was  

flora that  would  bloom  in  greater  numbers,  if  not  quite  so  

unwittingly lucky,  living  as  close  to  the  countryside  as  I  did.  I  

majestically. All  this  was  watched  over  by  the  far-­‐reaching  

believe now  that  one  of  the  most  singularly  important  factors  

branches of  an  apple  tree,  a  weather-­‐beaten  statue  of  a   cherub  sheltering  at  its  roots;  lonely  and  wingless,  observing,  

92

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


too, the  yearly  display.  Each  year  when  the  summer  

living organism  capable  of  mood  swings  and  dark  days  

months came  this  tree  would  inexplicably  burst  with  

just like  the  rest  of  us,  and  in  years  to  come  it  would  

life, producing  a  bounty  of  apples,  which  mother  in  turn  

hurt me  in  a  way  I  could  not  quite  understand  to  hear  

would bake  into  endless  pies  and  crumbles.  We  would  

my parents  speak  ill  of  it,  as  though  it  had  not  been  our  

sit on  the  grass  by  the  bird  table  with  my  father  eating  

home, had  not  fulfilled  its  purpose.  For  my  parents,  I'm  

an array  of  homemade  delicacies;  the  sweet  smells  

sure it  would  have  been  more  than  adequate.  Even  with  

mixing with  the  earthy  scents  of  the  garden  under  the  

a child  there  would've  been  room  to  spare,  but  then  

setting sun.  All  this  was  contained  in  a  space  no  bigger  

they had  another  and  myself  soon  after  and  suddenly  

than the  width  of  our  peculiarly  petite  house,  it  was  in  

the house  shrunk.  Bedrooms  were  made  were  dining  

length our  garden  seemed  more  than  it  was;  it  seemed  

rooms ought  to  have  been,  studies  were  set  up  within  

almost a  corridor,  trapped  within  the  similarly  sized  

those same  bedrooms.  My  own  room  faced  east,  

gardens of  our  respective  neighbours.  The  back  of  the  

towards the  rising  sun.  It  was  the  smallest  in  the  house  

garden led  to  the  crumbling  walls  of  our  old  garage,  its  

but there  was  room  for  a  bed,  a  desk  and  a  cupboard  

one small  window  now  cloudy  and  stained  an  

for clothes;  toys  could  be  stored  spaciously  on  the  

unhealthy looking  brown  after  years  of  exhaust  fumes  

bedroom floor.  Privacy  was  rare  in  those  early  days,  not  

and the  battering  of  seasons.  The  rusting,  corrugated  

that I  had  any  inclination  towards  it,  but  for  my  parents  

iron roof  appeared  in  a  state  of  near  collapse  for  years  

I'm sure  it  must  have  been  a  silent  strain.  Still,  with  

but never  fell.  It  was  in  here  my  father  would  take  to  his  

good schools  nearby,  work  easy  to  acquire  and  a  town  

work; so  for  years  it  was  a  place  I  rarely  entered,  except  

well serviced  with  a  multitude  of  shops,  the  decision  to  

when watched  closely  beneath  his  gaze.                      

settle was  all  but  made  for  them.  Visitors  would  

       As  for  the  house;  it  suited  the  garden  perfectly;  a  

comment on  its  cosiness  or  its  quaint  features,  but  in  

crooked jumble  of  nooks  and  crannies  assembled  under  

the simplest  terms  it  was  small,  too  small  for  a  family  

the pretence  of  rooms.  It  was  old  in  design;  my  father  

that would  only  grow  in  size.  

would refer  to  it  as  'a  miner's  cottage',  though  in  truth  

       And  yet  if  there  was  ever  any  sense  of  looming  

'a cramped  cottage'  might  well  have  served  better.  

threat, any  dark  clouds  marching  steadily  towards  our  

Everything from  the  yellowing,  floral  wallpaper  to  the  

little cottage,  thundering  warnings  from  afar,  I  was  

less than  elegant  mantelpiece  predated  my  existence  by  

never aware  of  it.  My  quiet  world  was  entirely  

several decades.  Doors  would  seem  to  grow  and  shift  

contained within  the  confines  of  the  house  and  the  

depending on  the  month;  sometimes  fitting  snugly  with  

loose, decaying  fences  that  separated  our  garden  from  

their frames  and  at  others  jutting  out  mischievously.  

our neighbours.

The slate  floors  would  freeze  our  toes  in  the  winter   months  and  crack  or  shatter  any  porcelain  or  crockery  

Tom Warner

foolish enough  to  fall  upon  it.  I  would  soon  learn  as  a   child  that  the  blue,  velvet  rope  trailing  up  the  stairs  was   for  decorative  purposes  only  and  not  to  be  used  as  a   'traditional  handrail'  would.  These  were  but  a  few  of   the  quirks  I  grew  up  living  with,  till  it  seemed  to  me  that   the  house  became  another  member  of  our  family,  a   ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

93


94

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

95


96

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

97


98

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16


Kim Niehans

ISSUE 16 TRIBE MAGAZINE

99


TO SUBMIT WORK TO TRIBE SUBMIT@TRIBEMAGAZINE.ORG TO SAY HELLO CONTACT@TRIBEMAGAZINE.ORG

(C) 2013 TRIBE MAGAZINE 100

TRIBE MAGAZINE ISSUE 16

Tribe Magazine Issue 16  

Tribe is a submissions driven international creative arts magazine: featuring in this issue an article by Pedro Almodovar

Read more
Read more
Similar to
Popular now
Just for you