Above: Tim Groen: Jan Taminiau, Amsterdam, 2010.

Vogue Italia featured items from his collection on a recent cover. Maxima, Crown Princess of the Netherlands, wears his designs. Calls are coming in from Dallas to Tokyo.
I’m referring to Jan Taminiau, designer of super feminine, belabored dresses, who dislikes being called a couturier: “It sounds so crusty, as if you’re talking about the last century.” Jan lives and works in an entire —and entirely beautiful—17th century building smack in the middle of the Red Light District, the oldest part of Amsterdam. A peek into his atelier reveals six seamstresses bent over elaborate embroideries laid out on big tables. There’s a flurry of activity on the premises; the designer is preparing for his annual Paris Couture Week presentation. And to satisfy those enquiring callers, he is adding a demi-couture line, shortening the wait. “Practical” and “affordable” reign supreme in Amsterdam, but nonetheless, Jan Taminiau is a busy man.

TG: International attention and clients aside, do you think that the fact that you’re doing well is an indication of a departure from the Dutch no-nonsense mentality?
JT: I do. When big department stores were introduced in Holland in the early twentieth century, whatever was here in terms of a textile industry was tossed out the window. The upside of these stores was, supposedly, that fashion was within everybody’s reach. Which is great in theory, but it was a revolution at the expense of beauty and quality. And not to get too deep into it, but standardized sizes make people feel funny about their bodies. If a garment fits poorly the shoppers blame themselves, rather then the cut. I don’t believe in standardization. Now, if people would just take that off-the-rack stuff to a tailor, the world would look a lot better!
So I like to zoom in on someone’s essence, and these days there are Dutch ladies who are receptive to that again.

TG: Your first collection, in the late-nineties, featured discarded mail bags from the Dutch Postal Service as a material. That’s an unusual choice for someone with your couture-like sensibilities. Was that collection based on recycling?
JT: It was more about coming across that material, and tapping into all the romantic connotations of mended fabric and hand written letters. They had served, and lived a life, and someone repaired them by hand. They faded so beautifully. Those bags could be proud of themselves.
It’s like a human face; it’s nice when it shows age and wrinkles…there’s nothing wrong with the visible evidence of having some life behind you.
But it’s not like I always re-use materials. The only thing I consistently recycle – upon request – is fur. If a client brings me her fur and asks me to make something similar, I’ll happily alter her current coat to prevent her from purchasing a new one! It’s a way of making sure that our budget will not support the fur industry.

TG: You sound like a spiritual and ethical guy. You don’t come off as someone who just wants to make pretty dresses.
JT: Well, I do want to make pretty dresses, because that’s the fun part after all! But at the same time I want to pass something along. I want women to feel great, and not feel too fat or too tall or whatever, like they do with a lot of ready-to-wear. Ideally I can make them think: “Oh, wow, I do have an ass!” Or “I still have a waistline!”
Also it’s incredibly important to me that I have a good time, and that the seamstresses and the interns and everybody else feels the same way. Of course I’m not saying it isn’t fun if it helps my bank account, but I’m not driven by a desire to be the biggest or most famous. To be that ambitious, you have to cater to this craving for accessibility; and I honestly don’t know what that really contributes to anyone’s life. If you buy a $20 dress, you don’t expect it to last forever; you’ll just replace it in no time. So it’s an endless cycle of consumption and superficiality putting pressure on our quality of life on many levels; sweatshops, pollution, and on and on. We try to stay away from that.
But all concepts and philosophies aside, in the end I simply want my dresses to be about beauty.

TG: In terms of your approach to fashion you’re kind of a lone bird here. How does it feel to be based in Amsterdam?
JT: I actually kind of like it. It doesn’t really matter where you are, as long as you have some peace and quiet to concentrate when you have to. Up to two years ago, I was based in my hometown of Tilburg (small town in the south of The Netherlands, TG). I find that Amsterdam is what you want it to be, and I’m pretty comfortable with the small town aspect of this place. The city offered me the lease of this building as part of their project to phase out the prostitutes in the beautiful Red Light District, by replacing them with fashion companies. So if it wasn’t for some hookers calling it quits, I might still be in Tilburg!

Links:
>Jan’s own site: jantaminiau.com
>A small selection of the Fall 2010 Haute Couture presentation. This is what Jan was working on when we spoke.
>Jan’s shoes on the cover of Vogue Italia
>More about the RedLight Fashion initiaive, which helped Jan, and many other Dutch designers, find a space in Amterdam’s Red Light District.

Above: Tim Groen, Jojanneke Wannabeastar, Amsterdam, 2010

Rumor has it that when DJ Wannabeastar shows up at a fashion show in Amsterdam, alarms go off, and security comes rushing to the door.
That is, if the show has fur in it. Jojanneke Wannabestar (as she’s known to most), the underground pole-dancing DJ/performer, has been on a mission to create, in her own words “a counter offensive” against the fur lobby. And it’s working; her voice is being used in PSAs by the Dutch WSPA* affiliate Fur for Animals (Bont voor Dieren), and she has put a fantastically simple campaign together which allows for Amsterdam Fashion Week participants to simply declare themselves fur free during the shows (NY, please take note). In addition she started Fashion Against Fur!, a Facebook page.
“Having a kid has really opened up my eyes,” she explains. “Look, I know I’m no Brigitte Bardot or anything, but it’s become really important to me that we’re aware of how we’re treating this planet.”
And on Wannabeastar’s planet animals have rights. “I don’t hurt them, I don’t eat them, I don’t wear them,” says Wannabeastar, who stated in a previous interview that she has no need for leather, because all she wears is “plastic hooker shoes.” Wannabeastar’s enthusiasm is infectious, and there’s no denying that she is responsible for Holland’s new fur-free wave.

TG: You just released a single, you’re raising a kid, you educate fashion designers on their choices. There’s so much to talk about with you. First things first: what triggered your anti-fur stance?
JW: When I grew up in the eighties, the fur discussion was very much alive, and that always resonated with me. At age 11 I became a vegetarian, and I’d forever be buying T-shirts against animal testing, donating a little money, that kind of stuff. So caring about animal exploitation was always part of me.
But more recently, when the Fur Innovation Awards were being held during Amsterdam Fashion Week, I took it as a sign for me to send out a major signal; something that would undermine the notion that the entire fashion scene thinks that fur is OK. I used to be a stylist, and have many friends working in fashion, so I know there are plenty of designers who don’t work with fur.
While I was thinking about what to do, I started Fashion Against Fur! on Facebook, just as a loose platform for—initially mainly Dutch—people to unite and inform each other.

TG: And in the meantime you started something new; the “Fur Free Fashion” campaign, which gives fashion designers the opportunity to declare their shows fur free during Fashion Week. Did you tone down the militant aspect a little?
JW: Ha! Well, there’s that little word; “against,” that can really turn people off. But I am passionately against! The thing is, the more I spoke to designers, the more I heard the same argument: “We are anti-fur, but as professionals we can’t sound aggressive about it.” They would tell me that they would have no problem saying that they are fur free. So me and DJ-colleague Femke Dekker decided that that was exactly how we were going to approach the Fur Free Fashion campaign. With a website, a press release, and goodie-bag inserts. And then I realized it’s all in the nuances; “anti” and “against” can sound as if you’re shaking your finger at them; ”You’re a bad, bad person!”
So I get it. Even though I’m personally inclined to shake that finger; fur people are bad people, how could they be my friends? (laughs).

TG: But you don’t get very far when you’re shouting that from the rooftops…
JW: No, not really. It’s better to establish a dialogue, explain what you’re talking about, show alternatives. Now my attitude is more like; “Listen, we’re still friends, but…I really think you ought to reconsider this thing you’re doing.”

TG: So you’re getting the hang of the art of diplomacy…
JW: Yes, I suppose so. There is nothing confrontational about a designer simply stating that he or she is fur free. It isn’t even an invitation to debate the subject. It’s just a simple statement, and yet it makes people think. And this way suddenly a whole bunch of fashion people are willing to carry out that message.
Now we’re already focusing on next season, and since the first season some fantastic people—each with their own networks and ideas—have attached themselves to Fur Free Fashion. But Fashion Against Fur on Facebook will stay alive as well; you never know who clicks the ‘like’ button. It could be someone from an ad agency who is beginning to realize that fur ads are problematic, for example.

TG: A lot of people in Holland know who you are. Are you using that to your advantage now?
JW: Last week I was spinning, and this girl comes up to me, ”You’re that anti-fur chick, right?” So I said, “Yes, hi,” and she goes on: “I was talking to my friends, who said that fur is ridiculous because Wannabeastar said so.”
And that was an amazing moment for me; in a fairly superficial setting, there’s suddenly this other layer. And if that is the result of people paying attention to me, I’m all for it.
Now I’ve decided to work on it even harder, really sink my teeth into every aspect of performing and being on the radar.

TG: Every aspect? What about pole dancing?
JW: I hadn’t really done it for three years, but the other night I was spinning in Turkey and they kind of insisted. Oops, it turns out you can’t really stop and pick it up again. That’s when I realized I have to practice again, especially post-baby, because it’s amazing for your body!
I started doing it in the first place because I’m just not one of those DJs who just stands there, staring at her decks or laptops for a two-hour set. I like to get in front of the audience, talk over the tracks, show my ass—that’s an especially effective crowd pleaser!
But guess what? Using sex works. And it’s funny, because in order to look good while I’m performing at these late hours, I have to take care of myself, and then it goes right back to why I’m a healthy, vegetarian consumer.

TG: Earlier this year you released your debut EP, Party Party. What’s next?
JW: I’ve added some tracks to my act, in addition to the ones on Party Party, in the same punk-rock-meets-dancefloor vein. So now that I have enough material, I’ve started to perform live with a drummer and a guitar player, in addtion to DJ gigs—it’s a whole new thing. And an album of about twenty short tracks is in the works. Since I’m hardly a highly commercial act, a selection of tracks is already in the hands of various remixers and DJs worldwide. Working on that crossover appeal, baby!

Links:
>DJ Wannabeastar
>Wannabeastar’s Fur Free Fashion iniative
>Fashion Against Fur!
> *WSPA – World Society for the Protection of Animals
>Bont Voor Dieren / Fur For Animals (I love their logo!)
And also worth mentioning: Party Party is available on iTunes!

Above: Tim Groen, Ellis Faas, Amsterdam, 2010

Call me a Dutch chauvinist if you like, but I wasn’t surprised to hear that it took Amsterdam-based make-up maven Ellis Faas to create an eponymous product line which combines—all in the name of practicality, mind you—a highly conceptual approach to the color palette with a touch of Dutch design. The long-time Lagerfeld collaborator and former Biotherm designer draws from colors already present in the body (think blood, freckles, veins, etc), and was inspired by artillery and military efficiency for the packaging. After many years of flying where designers and editors needed her (pretty much everywhere), Ellis Faas decided that it was time to use all her experience and create a line of her own. One of the advantages of her new life? “I can finally schedule a dentist appointment I’ll be able to keep!”

TG: Weapons and blood generally don’t come up in a conversation about a new make-up line. I’m intrigued…what was your initial concept?
EF: Quite selfishly, I set out to create something I’ve personally never been able to find: a super-compact, all-encompassing line. It has always annoyed me that every single product comes in a different shape, a different container. So you inevitably end up with a purse full of crap. Make-up artists are traditionally forced to create their own collection of portable products, by transferring everything to little jars and travel bottles—so we’re not lugging an entire make-up counter along. Oddly, that idea never got translated to the consumer before.

TG: And this idea led to a fairly unorthodox packaging solution. It’s elegant for sure, but it kind of stands out in the universe of make-up containers, right?
EF: When I started developing the packaging, I was thinking about a gun, loaded with bullets. Don’t get me wrong; I’m a total pacifist, but I have a fondness for militaristic design solutions. Even though I’m against war, these guys know how to pack, and I relate to that. Once the bullet idea was established, Arnout Visser, the Droog-affiliated industrial designer, finalized the lightweight packaging design. Concealer, eyeshadow, lipstick, mascara, anything you can think of is tucked away in that one “pen.” That’s it—it’s all you need to bring.

TG: And what is special about the actual make-up?
EF: Quality. I’ve always blended my own colors, as a make-up artist, and during my five years as a Biotherm designer. So I’ve applied my know-how of high quality ingredients, and of blending, texture, and color—which I’ve always blended myself anyway—to developing these products that I want people to get absolutely hooked on. That’s essential; before you even buy the container, you need to feel that this is it for you. It’s not a gimmick.

TG: No animal testing?
EF: No animal testing! We are officially, legally cruelty-free.
A lot of people ask me whether the line’s organic as well, which it isn’t. Texture and effect are so important to me that I can’t limit myself to certain ingredients.
You know, it’s not a black and white issue; “Man-made” does not equal “Earth-unfriendly”, and something that’s organic does not automatically make it better for your body or skin.

TG: Now what about that web-rumor stating that you are Lagerfeld’s favorite?
EF: Oh that! (laughs). Some British reporter wrote that, I believe, and then it starts leading its own life. I never said anything of the sort, of course!
The real story is that I’ve known Lagerfeld forever, and I’ve done many shows and editorials with him, and I occasionally still do. We just worked on a shoot for Vogue Nippon together. When you work with someone of his stature frequently, and for a length of time, you end up being a part of their entourage. Which sounds like more fun then it is; because you’re expected to be there at the drop of a hat. Decline a couple of jobs, and people look at you cock-eyed.
I’ve also been in that situation with Mario Testino, who kind of “made” me. But what can I say? I’m Dutch, so I’m not the world’s best diplomat! I’ve definitely said no a couple of times when the smarter thing to do would probably have been to just take it.

TG: So your life must have changed a lot since you founded your own company…
EF: My life has totally changed, and that was exactly my intention. Not that I’m complaining about being in demand, but it was getting a little nuts. Now my brother works with me, I have an office staff, we do everything together. It’s a lot less lonely than the life of a traveling make-up person.
And now I can schedule everything, whereas my life before was determined by bookings.
When I worked with Lagerfeld two weeks ago, it was kind of “nostalgic fun,” but I don’t miss the constant pressure to take on everything that comes along, which is how I felt as a successful freelancer.
Now I’m running my own show—there’s no way back!

Links:
>Ellis Faas
Don’t miss her >bio, on her site.
The designer of Ellis Faas’ packaging, >Arnout Visser

Above: Tim Groen, John Bartlett. New York, 2010.

Ever since he based a Spring/Summer presentation on Joseph Beuys’ near-death experience, I had been dying (no pun intended) to talk to John Bartlett. The menswear designer was also way ahead of the curve when he explored the shrunken suit silhouette, and while his contract with Liz Claiborne just ended, he has wasted no time (soft-)launching a women’s line “without the fuss”. To cut a long story short, there was plenty of creative stuff I would have loved to talk about with John, but here’s why I changed my mind:
Lately I was beginning to notice that John is putting a lot of energy behind a variety of causes, not the least of which is animal suffering. And I love talking about animal rights even more than I like talking about the influence of Joseph Beuys on fashion.
John, who told me that he’s always been interested in Native American rituals and Eastern philosophy, states that as much as fashion is important to him on a creative level, “Fashion alone can be very draining and superficial.” And so he turned his focus on charities, in order to keep himself connected to aspects of the world that have nothing to do with fashion, and where he can make a difference.
Recently John ditched all fitness activities in favor of yoga (Jivamukti, to be precise), and as with many serious yoga practicioners, the issue of vegetarianism and veganism came up. When a designer goes vegan, you can rest assured that it influences how they think about their profession.
It seemed only fair that I gave John a platform, however modest, to talk about some of those super important issues:

TG: So, let’s forget about fashion for a moment.
JB: Ha! thank you.

TG: We both have rescue dogs, so we clearly don’t have to convince each other. But would you mind explaining once again to people who may be considering getting a pet, why rescuing from a shelter is the way to go?
JB: The levels of cruelty and abuse at the puppy mills that supply the stores are obvious to everybody now. So please avoid pet stores at all costs. If you want to a specific breed, try the shelter anyway. So many pure-breds are being rescued from puppy mills, that it’s changing the face of shelter dogs. It used to be all unidentifiable mixed breeds, but that isn’t the case anymore.
The other thing you can do to avoid pet stores, is to check breed-specific rescue sites; there’s a site for every breed.
But I have to add that while for me personally rescue is the only way to go — I’ve only had rescue dogs as an adult — there’s nothing wrong with getting puppies from a responsible, recognized breeder who treats animals humanely.

TG: You actually facilitate pet adoption events in the West Village, right?
JB: Yes, We organize adoption events with the North Shore Animal League, where they park a big mobile unit full of dogs — most of whom had never walked on grass before they were rescued — and cats in front of our store for a day, and I promote it weeks in advance. We usually average about ten adoptions a day, which is really great for an off-site adoption van!

TG: That is fantastic. Now let’s talk a little bit about fur…
JB: Ah, fur! This past season was really, really crazy; fur was everywhere in New York for Fall/Winter 2010! Two thirds of the designers showed fur on the runway. Apparently the furriers are courting designers to push fur. They’re making all their samples, supporting shows, and create demand, so a lot of stores are asking for it. And because it’s making money, a lot of designers feel pressured to offer it — even those who aren’t sure they feel good about it.
I have always worked in leather, and when I was working in Italy, I would see all this fur that was treated as another ‘fabric’, and kind of an amazing one, actually — if you don’t consider where it’s coming from. So in 2000 I did one season where I worked with rabbit fur, and afterwards I felt so disgusted. I had felt pressured to use it. It just wasn’t me, so I stopped it right then.
A lot of my colleagues are pro-fur, and I’m trying to figure out a way that I impact the pro-fur phenomenon. I’m talking to a lot of designers, editors, fashion directors, asking them, “This is what’s going on. Are you aware?” And if they are, well, at least I tried to point it out.

TG: To me it’s a total clear cut issue; I dare anyone to come up with images of a “fur farm” – nice euphemism, by the way– with happy, well-treated animals. Or to convince me that trapping in the wild is a “green” thing to do.
Why do you think it is so hard for people to denounce this entire industry? Is it just money, or is it maybe something more primitive than that?
JB: I really wish that I knew. A lot of the powerful fashion editors ardently promote fur.
One of the designers I spoke to said, “But the animals are humanely gassed.” All I could think was: Humanely gassed? Doesn’t that argument sound a little Hitler to you?
And so what if some farmers are gassing? Most of the fur comes from China, which has a horrible track record when it comes to the treatment of animals. Just look at the videos PETA—which is a very controversial place—is showing on their site about the skinning of live animals for exotic skins, it drives me crazy!

TG: How does your pro-active stance on animal cruelty affect your collection?
JB: It’s actually more and more affected by it, to the point where I decided that I’m not going to work in leather anymore at all. I used it for fall, and I’ll sell the pieces I still have, but that’s it.
There are all these things that are coming up for me, such as vegetarianism and animal cruelty, partly because of yoga. And I’m trying to have real clarity about it in my own life, so I can speak about it without being hypocritical.
It means that I have to figure out synthetic or fabric shoe options for the runway, and that I may not be able to work with companies I’ve worked with in the past. I know it’s going to be challenging. I realize that when I make the change, lots of peeps will try to criticize and dissect what i am doing — but i think every bit helps.

TG: So, does that mean you’ll keep heading in that direction? Next stop: sustainability?
JB: The collection will not be sustainable as much as it will be as cruelty free as I can make it. Being sustainable is definitely the next frontier, but given my own journey, not using animals is more immediate. I think that producing collections that are compassionate and cruelty free, also helps reverse the effects of the meat industry’s devastating toll on the environment—which is bigger than i ever realized.

TG: Finally, what what would you say to young designers?
JB: Young designers should indeed look at the videos that PETA and the Humane Society—which is another amazing organization—show about how these animals are treated, and how they are killed. I think the more you can inform young designers about how these skins are brought to them, and about the alternatives, the better.
At Parsons, for example, they have PETA and fur industry representatives come in to talk to students. I would think that that would be enough to sway anybody’s opinion. So at the end of the day it’s irresponsible if you’re still going to use fur. Irresponsible and vain.

Shortly after our interview John had another successful North Shore Animal League adoption event in front of his store.

Links:
>John Bartlett
This is John’s site. It shows the collections that are in store, and has a link on it to his blog. It also tells you about other (human-focused) charities that John is involved in, which we didn’t discuss, such as SAGE and The Trevor Project.
>PETA. As John says, “a controversial place”. It is, however, also an eye opener, and full of current info on international animal rights.
>North Shore Animal League. A favorite of John’s: the largest no-kill animal rescue and adoption organization in the world.
>ASPCA. This is the organization that rescued my dog, Whiskey Groen, from a kill shelter in Tennesee, after which I found him on Petfinder.com, a directory of more than 13,000 animal shelters and adoption organizations across the U.S., Canada and Mexico.

The Moral of the story: Do not get your pet from a pet store. Boycott pet stores that sell live animals altogether.

Above: Tim Groen, Gerald DeCock. New York, 2010.

“I owe a lot to fashion, for sure,” says Gerald DeCock, who just returned from Florida where he worked on a commercial campaign with Bruce Weber, with whose 1988 Chet Baker doc, Let’s Get Lost, he started his career.
Burned out on agents and mind-numbing mainstream work years ago, Gerald, who started out as a hair stylist, has let his career flow to a place that feels more natural to him. “These days, my work boils down to ‘anything visual’ really,” he explains. “But because I’ve always been picky and selective about the work I take on, it’s not like I’m burned out on hair, either”.

Thanks to his pickiness, even the commercial projects he agrees to do are interesting from a cultural point of view. The already legendary Bruce Weber–directed video Ain’t Nothing Like The Real Thing for YSL Homme (A/W 10/11) is a good example. As is the “West Side Story” commercial for GAP, directed by Mike Mills.
And then there was artist Doug Aitken’s Sleepwalkers, the Museum of Modern Art/Creative Time-commissioned video, which premiered as a monumentally scaled projection on and around the MoMA, on which Gerald worked in a Hair Stylist capacity. Recently he notched up the fluidity of his job description even more. For starters, Gerald can now call himself a Producer and Art Director as well, having worked as such on All That Glitters, a 2010 “micro-budget” thriller, directed by Matthew Collins.

But perhaps exciting to him above anything else, are the non-commissioned visual projects he’s been working on.
Gerald, who is a long-term resident of the Chelsea Hotel — where he lives in a rooftop apartment with ample outdoor space — has always had a fondness for shoots that take place between the hours of sunset and twilight. This inspired him to collaborate with photographer/director Sam Bassett, who was, until recently, his neighbor on the Chelsea Hotel roof.
“I did most of the art direction, casting, props, whatever,” says Gerald, “And Sam would shoot our set-ups, in natural lighting, or even in lack of it.”
For a full year, the two neighbors would put friends and members of Gerald’s (beautiful) clientele to work as models for shoots that Gerald would style á l’improviste, using pieces of fabric, fiber-optics, various trinkets, “whatever was around,” and, as one would imagine, a fair amount of hair styling.
The concept of the psychedelically flavored project, which they called The Magic Hour, was to work in a way that’s kind of rough and spontaneous, and to do something that forms a counterpoint to the preciousness of most fashion productions.
The extraordinary location of the two friends’ apartments — catching superb views, and all of the colors and shadows of those dramatic Manhattan sunsets — plays a big role in the final images. “It always seemed to work out magically.”
The final images combine a trippy and dreamy pre-Rafaelite/Faerie spirit with a dose of Biba/Cockette-glam. And while the photos are in a certain way fashion images, they are, at the same time, never about fashion, so that if one were to look at them without knowing anything about the project, it would be hard to pin down when they were made.
Pleased as he was with the collaboration, Gerald created a photo-blog, called Gracious Vigilantes, to keep everybody who was involved in the loop.
The latest development is that a curator in Tucson, AZ, is interested in the possibility of Gerald producing a Magic Hour type series of shoots at the Congress Hotel in that town.

And while the details of a continuation of The Magic Hour (with a different cast, in a new location) are being hammered out, Gerald already started working on his next collaborative series: Essay in Textures.
This time around both Gerald and the series’ subject, his friend Dominic Vine, are responsible for the photography, which is done with an infra-red camera.
“Dominic looks just like Jezus, with a long beard and really beautiful long hair,” says Gerald, “He really inspires me”. The portraits Gerald showed me look even more timeless then the previous work (think Victorian Daguerro-types of Rasputin). Without using any product —Gerald is known professionally for his no-product stance, and is in demand for his “no-product looks” — he creates abstract textures in Dominic’s hair, meant to resemble “things you find in nature”, rather than hair styles.

“I really appreciate the fashion world, and it is a huge part of who I am. It’s a really good creative outlet,” Gerald reflects, when we talk about how his work is more and more about and with friends. “But as time goes by I’m learning who I am as an artist. And I’m realizing that you don’t need to work with tons of different people.”

Links:
>Gerald DeCock
>Gracious Vigilantes
>Check out some of my favorite images from The Magic Hour here
>Doug Aitken’s Sleepwalkers
> Bruce Weber’s Ain’t nothing like the real thing for YSL Homme

Above: Tim Groen, Krijn de Koning. New York, 2010.

One could be perfectly content leaving the first impression of Krijn de Koning’s site-specific installations for what it is; bright, happy, minimalist. But like with most good work, it’s what you think about it after reflecting on it for a bit that makes it really interesting. While his work is super-happy, it is also oblique, complex, formal, surreal…

Krijn once half-jokingly labeled his work “neo-modernist baroque architecture,” and when you see his labyrinthine structures “growing” over, say, an existing nineteenth century stairwell, or plopped on the ruins of a medieval abbey, you totally see what he means.

I spoke with Krijn when installing his first New York solo show, In Here, For This. For the exhibit, at Demisch Danant Gallery, he created five pieces of ambiguous ‘furniture,’ While the shapes of these deceptively haphazard pieces are more or less small versions of his environments, the small scale makes you relate the pieces to actual furniture, without being able to actually identify their functions. A bookcase/desk/table? Or a chair/pedestal/divider?
At the opening of his show, people started interacting with the pieces; leaning, sitting, placing a drink on it (and quickly changing their mind about that one).
I asked Krijn whether he was worried about dings or scratches. “Not at all”, he said, “If you have to, you just get it refinished after a while.”

TG: I like your work for many reasons, but one of them is that it strikes me the same way great graphic design strikes me. Does that make sense to you?
KdK: I never thought about the graphic design angle, but I get it. It probably has to do with all the clean lines. And my use of color and shape is probably very graphic as well; I’m basically directing the viewer’s attention to something by adding manipulative layers.

TG: Another thing you have in common with graphic design is that your work always needs a context.
KdK: That’s true. It’s about organizing physical reality, in order to expose beauty, or even just to change, or emphasize something that would have been unclear without your action. Take the reality of a room; when you paint that room completely red, you can’t deny that you experience the space differently than if it were all white.
And therein lies the difference between applied design and art; design is supposed to serve a function, whereas with art it’s a little more blurry.

TG: Unless the conceptual intention of a piece of design is to be ignored or misunderstood…
KdK: Hmm…then I’d argue that design has become art.

TG: Here we are talking about graphic design, and critics always like to bring up architecture and interior or product design when discussing your work. Is comparing your work to various applied design principles even a relevant discussion to you?
KdK: Yes. There’s so much to say about art versus design, because there’s a history attached to the subject that goes back to the turn of the last century, or arguably even further.
To me, the difference between these principles lies in the intention.
Here’s an example; I was part of SuperStories (The 2nd Triennial of art, fashion and design in Hasselt, Belgium, TG.) where it was oddly obvious that design is playing with tools which were really owned by artists in the 60’s and 70’s. Tools which have to do with creating values by controlling what the viewer pays attention to. Placing a chair in the middle of a room on a pedestal, or declaring something a “limited edition,” for example. The funny thing was that I participated as an artist, but my installation in the lobby was actually used as seating! So the differences between my intention and the product designers’ intentions, created a total reversal.
And another significant difference between art and design is that in order for design to be effective, it needs to be intelligent, and somehow beautiful. Art is judged differently; a deeply personal angle is considered a quality in art, a must even.

TG: I read this great quote from you in which you state that its okay for art to be a failure. Can you explain that a little?
KdK: There is really desperate and painful great art, and art that is basically a mistake. And you can look at it and think ‘I don’t like it,’ but that doesn’t automatically make you doubt the artist’s professionalism. Even though you don’t like it, you still acknowledge that it is art. Whereas failed design is just failed design. Unfortunately this almost implies that almost anyone can declare themselves an artist and get away with whatever, which is why–thankfully–there are criteria decent art needs to meet. Again, it’s about intention. Why do you do it? What is it about? Who are you? What is this world? Very complicated questions; you can’t answer them just like that. But you have to deal with difficult questions; art means little without consciousness.

TG: Now you totally set yourself up for this question, of course: Why do you make art?
KdK: I do it to try to somehow understand this world. Making art is my desperate attempt to engage in a dialogue with reality, and to pry a finger behind the wonder and miracle of all things.
(Pause) It’s impossible, but that doesn’t mean I’m not trying!

Right after our interview Krijn had to run back to the gallery to finish up, since the opening took place be the next evening. He had already picked the beautiful, deep bottle-greens and grey-blues which were pretty close to what he used in his sketch. (Full disclosure: I designed the graphic identity for “In Here, For This”, based on Krijn’s own drawing).

He told me that he frequently waits until the very last minute to pick the colors he’ll use, which makes sense because the site of each installation is completely different.
LINKS:
>To get a good sense of Krijn de Koning’s work, check out his own site krijndekoning.com
>There’s an excellent book (ISBN-10: 908690016X, ISBN-13: 978-9086900169), which was published by Veenman Publishers in 2008 after Krijn won the 2007 Sikkens Award (>check out my post on the Sikkens Award here<). Get it!
>Krijn’s New York Gallery: Demisch Danant.

Above: Tim Groen, Whitney Pozgay, New York, 2010

Whitney Pozgay
Founder/Designer, WHIT

“Effortlessly chic. Playful but never overly complicated”, is how Whitney Pozgay, founder and designer of WHIT describes her brand new line of women’s apparel. And when I say brand new, I mean so new that Whitney just presented her very first collection, and so new that this is her very first interview as a designer in her own right.
Prior to launching WHIT, the young designer honed her craft working for arguably the two American designers responsible for the current obsession with classic preppiness and outdoorsiness.
It can’t be easy taking something that’s classic to the point of invisibility, tweaking it, and becoming a—widely imitated—retail sensation with street cred while you’re doing it, but that’s pretty much what Steven Alan and Kate Spade (pre-Liz Claiborne ownership) both have done.
Starting out in the fashion industry at her aunt’s company (yes, that would be Kate Spade), Whitney worked her way from accessories designer to women’s wear. Her Kate Spade period was followed by several years at Steven Alan where she was responsible for his successful women’s line.

TG: How do you feel, right after your first ever presentation?
WP: I feel great; I’ve always wanted to do this, so it’s like an itch that’s finally been scratched.
And I’m particularly happy that I did it now, when everybody has been so scared for so long. I feel like It’s all dark and stark and black when you go into stores. So it’s nice to try to make it fun again to go shopping, and to make something that doesn’t have to be taken so seriously.

TG: Did the “challenging economic climate” ever make you second-guess your timing?
WP: I think I was just ready, hungry to launch—regardless of what the economy is or isn’t doing.
And there is another way to look at this; a lot of people are putting their businesses to bed right now, making room for others—room which might not have been there in flusher times. Also, a lot of the factories that used to work with all these shut-down designers, are really excited to work with you, and have the time to go out of their way. So in my case, it meant that we got to work with craftsmen and embroiderers, right here in the States, who were open to doing new things and experimenting with their machinery.

TG: This early in the game, do you already have secret fantasies about becoming a mega-brand?
WP: Not yet (laughs)…but…I am guilty of seeing something and thinking “Mmm…That doesn’t work as a skirt but it would be an awesome desert plate”, or “that fabric’s not going to make a good shirt but it would be amazing shoe”.
And yes, I do say to myself: “One day I can make that shoe.’”
Of course hope that WHIT grows, but right now I’m just trying to stay as focused as possible to make sure I’m doing one category very strongly. And the next time I get that itch again, it might be about shoes—who knows?
It would be fun to do men’s, because I love shopping for men’s clothes. A lot of what I like for girls is based on menswear; girlie shapes but in men’s structured fabrics.

TG: And you definitely have the experience to pull off a men’s line…
WP: True, it’s been so nice to first have designed at Kate Spade where everything is very much about feminine shapes, and then with Steven Allen where it’s all about “Tomboy”. I like to meet in the middle; a Tomboy in a puffy skirt.

Both Kate and Steven take the concept of classic and timeless design, and like them, I like to pick items that keep appearing in your life. Take Fair Isle sweaters. I had a great Fair Isle sweater when I was 10, I had a great Fair Isle sweater when I was 16, and I like designing them now, but I play with the proportion, and twist or tweak something, so that its new and fashion, and not overly traditional.

TG: Finish this sentence: “WHIT is …”
WP: Crisp. Structured. Feminine. Nostalgic? Mmm, Maybe a little…
(Pensive silence)
I’m drawing a blank! I had a really smart list of adjectives written down, just to be able to answer this exact question. I have to memorize it.

TG: Ha ha! Well thank G-d your fist ever interview is only with me.
Here’s my two cents: when I look at WHIT I see a line that’s designed for women by a woman, which I think is generally a good thing. And I get an American-no-nonsense-yet-elegant-vibe. Kind of Claire McCardell-ish, but for less formal times.
WP: Oh, wow—I like it if that is what you walk away with!
The concept of WHIT is basically to take these items that are interchangeable for all different kinds of women to make their own. My friends are all either more edgy or androgynous or rock & roll then me, but we all tend to like the same stuff; we just take it these different directions. Which in reality means that the same skirt that makes them look incredibly sexy, tends to make me look like an 8-year old! (laughs)
I remember clearly the first time seeing someone on the street wearing one of my designs, and she was wearing it in way that would never have occurred to me—and that’s what I like. I originally come from costume design, where it’s like “you’re a princess, here’s your princess outfit.” Women clearly don’t think about their wardrobe in that way.

TG: You and your aunt both have—or rather, share great and specific taste, and now I hear that your brother works for Marc Jacobs. Stylish family much?
WP: My mother has four sisters, so I grew up with five women who all represented different versions of amazing style. Katy always had her her distinct silhouette; a-line skirts and cigarette pants. My mom was more of the high-waisted Bermuda shorts, with a wide, big-buckled belt, paired with an open, oversized plaid Ralph Lauren shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Very chic. Then there’s my grandmothers style. And all the elements my mother and aunts have in common: the pearls, the cardigans and all the bright preppy colors they all seemed to wear in different ways. I think a combination of all of that went into my sense of taste.

I did learn a lot from Katy specifically, I’m very proud to be her niece, and I don’t believe I could have learned from anybody better.
When I was 14 I came to New York to visit Katy and Andy, and they introduced me to their friends, they had all this cool art and lived in a loft in TriBeCa. And Andy explained to me what outsider art is, those kind of things. As a little girl from Arizona, how would I have known about all that stuff, if they hadn’t exposed me to it? So, I officially fell in love with the city when I spent an entire summer here at 18. And finally, at 22, I moved here permanently. As soon as I got here I worked for Katy and Andy. Starting out professionally at Kate Spade, the company, as a design assistant, was a major education for me. And my family continues to inspire me; I love Andy’s storefront for example. Every time I’m there it just makes me happy that it exists!

TG: It seems like celebrity fashion lines are here to stay; from Beth Ditto to Liam Gallagher, and from Justin to the Olsen twins and on and on. How do you feel about that phenomenon?
WP: You know, that’s a hard question. Celebs are products themselves, in a way, and I don’t want to begrudge them the opportunity to explore what that product could evolve into. As a designer I might one day go into other categories, so I feel bad just sitting here and judging it.

But on the other hand I do think it’s a little weird to think of an actress going (in ditzy voice) “Oh, I like clothes, I’m going to attach my name to a line”. And then a big design team and a PR company come in and do their thing, and there you have it: a line.
I think it makes it the industry look very easy to a kid, when they see a certain actress or singer “designing” fashion. And the garments end up having the fashion value of a Hannah Montana T-shirt.
So in the worst case it kind of cheapens the craft and what it means to be a designer. A bit of responsibility lies with the media to educate consumers and to push fashion as an art form.

And then there are people like Gwen Stefani or the Olsens, who really aren’t doing a bad job at it. I think they are very involved and passionate about it, and they know what they are talking about— without having an enormous team doing all the work.

TG: All right, so I guess that our not-very-exciting conclusion is that some celebs are super-cheesy whatever they do, and some actually respect fashion and have taste and make decent stuff…right?
WP: Something like that. And starting a bad line just because you have backing is not exclusively a celebrity thing. There are plenty of non-celebrity kids who get out of school and start a line without having worked for anyone to test their skills, and without any idea of how the business works.
It’s a weird moment in time. I’d like to think that, with so much about fashion becoming so disposable, a renaissance of craftsmanship and quality will take place. It’ll be interesting to see what happens because there is only so my much shopping money to go around.
But there are savvy consumers out there, who really appreciate the same things we do, and who shop at well-curated boutiques. The kind of people who are interested in the story and the person behind a brand.

TG: Will you promise me something?
WP: Sure, what is it?

TG: When you’re at the point in your career that you’re being interviewed with first looks going on in the background, don’t ever say that you design for “strong women.” If I hear one more designer say “strong woman” I’m going to scream.
WP: Ha, true! I have to remember to never say that. I’ll tell them I design for a “complicated woman”.

Links:
>WHIT
>Whitney’s Blog: Be Nice. Be Kind
>Andy Spade’s Partners & Spade

Above, Tim Groen: Selima Salaun, New York, 2010

Selima Salaun
Founder / Designer, Selima Optique

“Look how amazing!” Selima says in her delicious French accent, as she shows me a complimentary write-up about herself in a recent Luxottica brochure. Judging by how happy she is about the kind words in a corporate booklet, you’d never guess that this is the seasoned eyewear designer who receives more editorial than anyone can keep up with, who is the owner of multiple boutiques in New York and a shop in Paris, as well as a thriving business in Japan. And with whom just about every other fashion designer wants to collaborate. From Erin Fetherston to J. Crew, from Tim Hamilton to Proenza Schoeller, from Catherine Malandrino to Jack Spade, Adam Kimmel, Duckie Brown, and Simon Spurr. The list goes on and on; at some point or other, designers make Selima Optique frames part of the presentation, if not part of their actual collection.
“People see that I have a passion,” Selima says to explain why so many fashion people—and such a variety of them—consistently and repeatedly turn to her. “They see that I believe in everything I do, and that is key.”

Showing me a fraction of her archive, Selima opens up drawer after drawer of amazing vintage frames, most of them with the little manufacturer’s sticker still on the lens. I see Diors (including the seriously giant ones my grandmother always wore, which covered about 65% of her face), Dunhills, Ray Bans, various experimental one-offs, weird Muglers, and deadstock you’d be hard pressed to find on a flea market. “One of the largest archives around,” Selima says about her rows of neat white cabinets. It’s a lot to take in, and while I’m trying to do just that, my eye is already caught by something else: insanely ruffled umbrellas in a variety of colors. “Oh, aren’t those great?” she asks, showing me the color sample booklet with what seems like 100 colorways. A cross between a Technicolor musical-slash-Crazy Horse revue prop and a gypsy-skirt, Selima’s ruffled umbrellas are pretty genius. “Out of thousands, I only have these five left,” Selima says, opening one up so I can admire its full frilliness. “And people said I was completely crazy for making umbrellas inspired by the beach scene in Juliet of the Spirits!”

Regarded as a cult designer ever since she launched her first collection in the early mid-nineties, Selima has confidently never taken the super-corporate route. Her shops couldn’t feel any less formulaic; the designer sees each location as an opportunity to introduce something new her—loyal—clientele. Chocolate, hats, jewelry, vintage clothing, lingerie and obviously, ruffled umbrellas…anything goes, as long as Selima is feeling it.

TG: Is mixing up your merch a retail strategy, or is there something more personal behind it?

SS: Ha! Strategically I should only be selling glasses (laughs). But I’ve always loved accessories in general, and especially when there’s utilitarian aspect to them. I love that glasses help you see or protect your eyes, umbrellas shield you from the rain, and hats protect your hair. I’ve always loved hats and worn hats, so adding them to my line is really about my personal passion for them.

TG: What are you passionate about now? Anything in particular that’s inspiring you?

SS: Everything inspires me. Walking down the street. Traveling, which I do a lot. People I meet. Books—I always read three or four books at once. I check all the magazines. But I’m actually not really inspired by current magazines; like yourself, I love old magazines. I love L’oeil! I still can’t believe you found those old issues on the street! >click here to see what Selima is talking about<. When I first discovered L’oeil I bought tons of them, and I still look at them.
Old movies inspire me, actually last night I watched 2007’s Savage Grace, in which Julienne Moore–who’s gorgeous—wears glasses all the time. It’s a very disturbing but visually beautiful movie, you should totally see it.
But my major inspriration is, not surprisingly, my own collection of vintage eyewear.

TG: So with inspiration flowing constantly, I guess you’re not once of those designers who lock themselves up for a week to tear up magazines and make moodboards?

SS: I do that too, of course. But inspiration is strange; it can come out of nothing. Like the movie I watched yesterday, made me think about colors.

TG: Over the last couple of years it seems that your name is attached to all these masculine lines, while I used to think of you as more of a women’s designer. Are you doing more men’s stuff now?

SS: Yes, in the past six years the focus has shifted to include men, who, by the way, turn out to be extremely brand-loyal once they notice the quality.
It’s funny, we’ve been designing glasses for a long time now, and we were always thinking about women, so until I had male customers, I had no idea that men give such great feedback. I feel extremely lucky to be able to listen to these guys, these men of taste, like Mario Sorrenti or Mickey Drexler. They will say, ‘you know Selima, I love this style, but can you make this part a little thinner?’ or ‘Can you do this in navy blue and chocolate?’
Their input is so valuable to my collection that they end up feeling more like mentors than like clients.

TG: It almost sounds like your relationships with your clients spark these little mini collaborations. And you seem to really enjoy working that way. On that note, tell me more about what you’ve been doing with Matt Singer.

SS: I adore Matt! We both love to read, and we have very similar tastes, so that colors what we do together. We just collaborated for The Thing Quarterly. It was limited edition pair of frames with a Jonathan Lethem quote on the arms, which launched at Printed Matter.
Those frames were sent to the subscribers of The Thing first, and now we sell them through Matt’s site and at my locations.
The next project we’re doing will benefit the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. It’s nothing that really makes money, but it gives us a chance to make another beautiful product; we’re making these Clark Kent frames for kids, which will retail very inexpensively. And of course it benefits a great charity! >link<

TG: Now, all of those frames you design specifically for other fashion designers—like those beautiful Adam Kimmel sunglasses you did—do they make it into your collection?
In other words, are they styling props, or can we actually get our hands on them?

SS: Absolutely you can get them! Adam’s glasses, for example, are sold through his retailers, like 10 Corso Como, Colette, Bergdorf Goodman, and seven or eight more. And in addition I sell them through my stores. So whatever I do, you will be able to actually buy.

TG: While we’re on the subject of collabs: will we see any “Selima for Uniqlo/Gap/Target” type collection in the future?

Many years ago I was approached by H&M, but I had to say no. It was just too soon, and I wasn’t ready. I only want to do something when I’m sure I’m delivering high quality.
I started producing my own line in 1996, and the small French atelier I worked with was used to making custom frames for Ari Onassis, Yves Saint Laurent, you know, the crème de la crème. And now, all these years later, I don’t want to dumb down the quality, just because it’s a big international order. Like I said, it needs to be good.

TG: But if the phone rings now, you’ll be ready?

SS: Oh, now I’m super-ready. On all levels. Business wise, sexually, you name it (laughs). Yes, I’m ready!

Links:
Selima Optique
Matt Singer

Above: Tim Groen, Felix Burrichter, New York, 2010

Felix Burrichter
Editor / Creative Director, PIN-UP Magazine

“The aim was very simple and almost banal,” Felix answers when I ask what he had in mind when he founded PIN-UP, of which he is the editor and creative director. “I wanted to bring some of the ephemeral qualities, the playfulness of fashion editorial to an architecture publication, and make it entertaining.”

Felix, who was trained as an architect, has always been obsessed with fashion magazines, which is why, when he was still a student, he would intern at a fashion magazine every summer (Numéro, Fantastic Man). “At the time these internships didn’t make any sense, not even to me,” he says, looking back on feeling somewhat torn between two worlds that are traditionally presented in almost opposite ways. “But once I graduated, and was working as an architect, this idea started crystallizing that I wanted to create an architecture magazine that actually wasn’t boring and dry.”

And so the first issue of PIN-UP was created, without a business plan, but with a very clear idea of what the magazine should, and should not be: Lose the heavy-handedness that’s so prevalent in architecture media, and bring on a dose of fashion sprit, in which, as Felix puts it, “there’s no such thing as inappropriate. If anything, inappropriateness is almost desirable.”

Flash-forward about three years, to issue number seven, and all of Felix’ ideas about his magazine for architectural entertainment are still firmly in place. The main change Felix can identify is that PIN-UP is increasingly about design. “Design lies somewhere between architecture and fashion”, he explains, “in terms of shelf life and attitude.” But the reader who has followed the magazine from issue one, may have noticed that contemporary art is featured more and more. Felix acknowledges this: “From design it’s an easy step to contemporary art, and I never thought that that would happen. I was always interested in art, but felt like I didn’t know very much about it.”
Art and architecture are a perfect match, argues Felix, who is excited about the room for experimentation where the two intersect.
“It doesn’t mean that PIN–UP will eventually become an art magazine, but it’s yet another subject that allows for a certain freedom in relation to architecture, and freedom is what PIN–UP is all about.”

I’m personally mildly obsessed with those sections in magazines that ask a person for their favorite things, or better yet, for the “things that they can’t live without,” as ELLE Decor words it. Usually the answers sound pretentious, or embarrassing, or both. And they often pander to the advertiser you see three pages later. Since I have no advertisers to pander to, I asked Felix to list the ten things he can live without (but may decide to keep anyway):

1. Subway Tiles:
McNally did them first, and now, like taxidermy, they’ve slowly crept up all over New York restaurants, presumably to create that slightly rustic edgy charm of yore. I prefer a nice square white ceramic tile any day (like a >Bernd Trasberger< installation)!

2. Plastic Garden Chairs:
I actually don’t mind them so much, the only reason I’m listing it is because it’s part of one of my favorite quotes. A reporter once asked Catherine Deneuve during the Berlin Biennale what she thought was the biggest horror in the world. After some thought that was her answer.

3. Cinnamon and Celery:
There is no dish in the world I can think of that benefits from adding either of those ingredients. The worst to me is cinnamon on a cappuccino, or celery dipped into a jar of peanut butter.

4. Shades/curtains:
I find pitch-black rooms disturbing. Not only do I not mind being woken by the morning sun, but waking up and not being able to see the sky seriously freaks me out. Nonetheless I recently bought shades for my apartment. They’re classic photo studio black vinyl shades intended to shield me from potentially nosy neighbors. (And I have to admit: I really like them and have them down a lot.)

5. Sunscreen:
I wish I didn’t need it, but unfortunately I do. The same goes for glasses, actually.

6. AOL Time Warner Center & Astor Place Tower:
Only two of many examples of how architecture can really destroy New York City’s cityscape and character (and that’s from someone who didn’t even move here until 2003).

7. 43 pairs of shoes (not including sandals or flip flops):
I really don’t need them all, but have very hard time letting go.

8. Ed Hardy by Christian Audigier.

9. Noguchi coffee tables, black Barcelona chairs, and Castiglione’s Arco lamp:
By themselves they’re all amazing design pieces, but combined they remind me too much of the default designer pieces one can find in any low-ceilinged, over-priced New York condo building sample apartment.

10. Dust.

Links:
PIN-UP Magazine

Tim Groen: Felix Burrichter, New York, 2010

Above: Tim Groen, Aric Chen, New York, 2010

Aric Chen
Journalist / Design Critic

“What’s good about moving to Beijing for me is that the shopping’s not great,” jokes Aric Chen, who recently relocated from New York to China ‘indefinitely’—which, he hastens to point out, is not the same as ‘permanently’.

After having served as the 2008 and 2009 Creative Director of 100% Design Shanghai—a co-directorship shared with Tobias Wong, the New York-based artist/designer—Aric felt that a change in perspective would do him good. Beijing had been one of the Asian cities he had visited several times. “Some cities you immediately get, but Beijing was not like that for me,” he says to explain his city of choice. “I could feel that I liked it a lot, but that the only way to really get to know it required living there”.
Beijing, with its “intense moments of beauty, surrounded by vast swaths of grittiness,” reminds Aric of Berlin, another one of those cities that requires visitors to dig a little deeper.

Taking full advantage of his new location, his frequent contributions to the New York Times lately have been about such China-centric topics as hip hotels in Beijing, gay life in Shanghai (‘Panda Bears’!), and a variety of other local finger-on-the-pulse topics.
”It’s interesting, because living in New York, you get used to the idea that our narrative is everyone’s narrative. But now that I’m in China, I’m starting to see how the world is increasingly about multiple narratives. For example, there was no recession there.”

A recent writing assignment gave Aric the chance to talk to Ole Scheeren—the architect working on a number of new projects throughout Asia, including the CCTV tower in Beijing, under Rem Koolhaas’ OMA umbrella—who, Aric says, is very interested in a new model, in which Beijing becomes a center from which new ideas might radiate. And Aric agrees with the architect that it makes sense to think of Beijing as a cultural hub, “in a more poly-nuclear situation.”

Obviously one of these alternative narratives Aric mentions is China’s recent-ish ascendance in the contemporary art world; just think of the media attention for artists like Yue Minjun, Ai Weiwei and Zhang Huan. So could ‘design’ be China’s next Big Thing? Aric believes so. “People are talking about design like they were talking about contemporary art seven, eight years ago.”
Which is why the city of Beijing has approached Aric with the request to help them develop a Design Week of their own. This, he predicts, will be very interesting; “There are values in design and architecture which are pretty universal, but because Chinese culture has such strong roots of its own, I have to learn how to evaluate things on their own terms, and from different angles.”

“This is a city where everything happens behind closed doors; it’s a city of walls, and behind each wall you’ll find more walls,” says Aric, so it only makes sense to learn that he lives and works out of a courtyard house he rents on one of Beijing’s old hutongs, or alleyways, near the Lama Temple. He warns me though, not to picture anything too romantic. “When I say ‘courtyard in a hutong’, people expect to find me in some kind of Raise The Red Lantern setting”. The reality, he says, is a little different. “It was decorated by the landlady. So rather than resembling a concubine’s quarters,” Aric laughs , “The house looks like someone’s grandmother’s bedroom.”

In his downtime, Aric likes to stroll along the moat of the Forbidden City—which he fears may sound touristy and quaint—and is generally enjoying the sensation of discovery and surprise that comes with cross-continental relocation.
“I left New York partially to get away from hipness, the latest shops and restaurants, away from nightlife,” he says when we talk about the fact that he’s returning to Beijing in a week, via Milan, and he continues, “I really enjoy the distance, but at the same time I miss all of those things a lot.”
Paradoxically, it is the real New Yorker in him that brought Aric to Beijing, he philosophizes: “It’s that hunger for new things, and for new challenges.”

Links:
>Click here for a beautiful 2008 piece Aric wrote for the New York Times, about visiting China with his mother.<