Vocalist, guitarist and interdisciplinary artist Jónsi has entertained a fascination for sound for most of his life, his more well-known output being the Icelandic, experimental band Sigur Rós. The indelible contribution that this band has had on the world of contemporary music is undeniable. The release of their 1999’s album Ágætis byrjun changed the landscape and the very definition of ambient music. Jónsi’s intentions have remained the same since his first experiments with sounds; “changing the way people think about music.” For his first exhibition at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery, Jónsi plays on multiple senses with a series of immersive installations where visitors can individually experience smell, hearing and sight in a public setting. I had the chance to ask Jónsi a few questions about his show and his personal relationship to sound.
Agathe Pinard: Walking into the main room of the gallery, you are immersed into a white room with sterile light reminiscent of Kubrick’s last scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey while hidden speakers emanate sounds. I know you also hosted a couple of ‘Luminal’ sound baths. Where does your interest in making sound baths originate from ?
Jónsi: For the entirety of my career I have been interested in sound, sonic experiences and what it means. In every iteration of my artistic practice I have explored sound, what it feels like and what sensations it brings to the surface.
Pinard: With what idea in mind did you create the sound projected in the white room and the one in the dark room ?
Jónsi: Each of these works has a different impetus, but they share so many common threads, which I believe run through the entire show and throughout my work in general. These are sound- based installations, but they activate the senses in more than one way– using sound of course, but also sight, scent, and even the air moving through the room. Each of these works references the natural world on multiple levels, and functions as an abstract representation of our relation to nature. At the end, the sensorial is what inevitably connects us to the natural world.
Pinard: Could you describe the smell you decided to associate with each room and why?
Jónsi: In Hvítblinda (Whiteout) I was thinking about the idea of a whiteout as it occurs in nature– a situation where the earth and the sky blend into each other to the point that the horizon disappears. The odor component in the room is ozone, which occurs in nature right before the rain begins. Svartalda (Dark wave) references the ocean: the ceiling panels move like a wave and part of the sound installation includes a recitation of an Icelandic poem about the sea. Here there is a seaweed scent which is an odorous reference to the sea.
Pinard: How does being submerged in a brightly lit white room as opposed to a dark pitched one affect a person? Jónsi: Obviously each lighting situation affects the viewer differently. The sound component of each space enhances the experience of the space, together with the smell. But I think that in all the works in the show it there is an overall effect that goes beyond the visual.
Pinard: Your first solo show at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery is meant to be challenging to the senses – sight, sound, touch. It’s sort of a meditative, solo experience where the visitor is encouraged to focus on its senses while also sharing this experience with other people in the room. How do you want people to experience your work?
Jónsi: Sight, sound, smell are all intangible things that are part of the communal realm. While each of us experiences them individually, and maybe differently, these are things we cannot touch, or quantify, or have be entirely ours. The works in the show allow the viewer to have a very intimate and personal experience which is set in a public surrounding. It opens up ways to experience the distinctly personal together with other people.
Pinard: Your whole work of art is filled with vocal and instrumental approaches, from playing in your band Sigur Rós to creating movie scores to this show. How would you describe your own relationship to sound?
Jónsi: I think it is fascinating to work with something so intangible and invisible as sound but at the same time it moves you in some inexplicable and unexplainable way. Thats why sound is magical.
Pinard: Can you talk about the concept behind Í blóma ?
Jónsi: This work, like the others, is rooted in sound and in my ongoing exploration of it. The shape of the piece resembles the foxglove flower which is toxic but can also be used for healing and that’s a dichotomy I find interesting. Here there are field recordings of the actual flowers, and these recordings are layered with different recordings of my own voice. In the show there is a certain negotiation with the world we live in through sound, through nature, through the senses. It goes back and forth between the works and the viewer.
Pinard: Butt plugs are present in different sculptures in the show either made of glass or chrome-plated, why did you choose to incorporate this particular object into your work?
Jónsi: The human body is part of nature and throughout the show there are references to the body and to its physicality, in various degrees. The sexual body is a sensual organism, and bringing this idea forth is a large part of the exhibition.
Jónsi’s exhibition is on view through through January 9, 2020 at Tanya Bonakdar Gallery 1010 N Highland Ave, Los Angeles
Born in New Zealand, Connan Mockasin
now lives in Tokyo. I met with the nomadic chanteur as he stopped through Los
Angeles on the occasion of his international tour. There was only one show
scheduled, but the tickets sold so quickly they decided to add two more. The
last one felt like a bouquet final, a two-hour victory lap among friends,
including John Carrol Kirby, with whom he performed a cover of Whitney’s “I
Will Always Love You.” We were introduced at The Lodge Room in Highland Park
where he invited us to join for dessert. Mockasin is quite noticeable with his
long, platinum hair, big bucket hat and his quintessential John Waters-esque
mustache. We talk about the venue where he had been playing the past two
nights. He spots my French accent. I tell him that I’m from Bordeaux and we
discuss the Southwest of France, mainly the best surf spots. We mention
Biarritz and how he would love to live a little south of it, in a very small
fishing village called Guethary located in Basque country. It’s a secluded
haven also chosen by many French artists, including writer, Frédéric Beigbeder
and actor, Vincent Cassel.
It had been five years since Connan
Mockasin last released an album. His two previous ones, Forever Dolphin Love (2010) and Caramel
(2013) were best described by writer, Daiana Feuer as “sensuous love letters
from an alien.” This year’s Jassbusters
is Mockasin’s first full-band album. It was recorded live over the course of a
week at the legendary Studios Ferber in Paris, best known for hosting France’s
most notorious singers like Serge Gainsbourg and Alain Bashung, as well as
international enigmas like Nick Cave and Black Sabbath. The album is
accompanied by a five-part melodrama film called Bostyn ’n Dobsyn, based on comics and short films imagined by the
artist as a teenager. Although very different in nature from the past two
albums, Jassbusters remains faithful
to Mockasin’s essential recipe: a blend of eccentricity and sensuality. The
record starts with a sultry track called “Charlotte’s Thong,” a perfect gateway to an updated sound
that is peppered with humorously creepy, yet oddly arousing narratives—a
combination that could only be extracted from a vintage porno or a Connan
AGATHE PINARD: I was supposed to interview you a couple months ago at Desert Daze, but it didn’t happen due to the awful weather conditions and the huge line to get in.
CONNAN MOCKASIN: We almost didn’t get
AP: What were you doing when the storm hit and festival security asked everyone to go back to their vehicles?
CM: I’m scared of lightning, so I went
to the trailer. It was really nice actually. We opened the curtains and watched
AP: Yeah, they had to shut down Tame Impala while they were playing.
CM: Some of them kept coming into our
room and I kept saying, “Close the door!” because I was scared of the
lightning. They were feeling so bad about the fans, so we had a game where you
had to have a sip of whiskey every lightning flash. It was really fun.
AP: Your new album is called Jassbusters. Can you explain what a jassbuster is?
CM: It’s a band of schoolteachers who
make a record together. I did these home videos when I was a teenager—twenty
years ago now. We used to have this thing, Bostyn
‘n Dobsyn. Mr. Bostyn, the teacher, had a band called Jassbusters. It’s
basically a band record, because I’ve not done any band records. This is the
first. Basically, every band recording is a Jassbuster recording.
AP: What was it like recording with a band for the first time ?
CM: There were four of us recording
and it was easy. The thing with a band is that if you’re recording live, you
can feel if it’s not working, or if it’s working straight away. It’s a lot
quicker. You feel like you can take your time when you’re on your own, but it’s
not the same when you’re working with a group of people. Overall, it’s a lot
easier. You have other people playing and putting their touch, which is very
different from being on your own.
AP: I was curious if “Charlotte’s Thong” was about Charlotte Gainsbourg, since you produced a song for her and toured together?
CM: I did invite her. I told her that
she could play on “Charlotte’s Thong,” but that’s about it. That’s just a name,
like Jassbuster. We just came up with a name.
AP: You released a five-part series based on comics and short films you made in high school. Can you talk a bit about the concept behind the movie and why you’re doing this now?
CM: I don’t know why now. I just wanted
to do it. It’s always been something I enjoy, Bostyn ‘n Dobsyn. I wanted to make a series, but I didn’t even know
how to do it. I wanted to make something new again. When I made my first album,
Forever Dolphin Love, I didn’t know
how to record. So, it was all new. Making an album by yourself you just make a
lot of mistakes. I tried to make a series in the same way: without really knowing what I was doing.
Sometimes mistakes turn out to be good. When you do it while not being
particularly good at it, you do it in your own way.
AP: The story is about a music teacher and his student. Where did that idea come from?
CM: I don’t even remember. We just
thought it was great—Mr. Bostyn, thinking his student, Dobsyn is a girl, and
calling him Josie. It starts a whole world of deceit.
AP: Is it in any way autobiographical?
CM: I hope not. I play Mr. Bostyn, so
I hope not. Although he is not necessarily bad. Dobsyn is pretty bad later on.
AP: Matt Correia from Allah-Las asked me to ask you about your favorite color.
CM: That’s a great question. I don’t
know. I don’t have a favorite color really.
AP: Can you talk about dolphin love? What is it and what makes it forever?
CM: I was making music at my parent’s
in New Zealand. I was just driving around and I went to my friend Brim Dog’s
house. He lives further south on the beach. We were around an outdoor fire,
quite drunk from red wine, and I remember singing “Forever Dolphin Love.” That’s
just how it happened. Maybe it was because the ocean was right there by Brim
Dog’s. I don’t know.
AP: You’ve been working on the score of a surf movie called, Self Discovery for Social Survival. What was the experience of working on that project like?
CM: I basically just wanted to go
surfing with my friend Andrew.
AP: It was filmed in several locations. Mexico, the Maldives…
CM: He and I went to Nicaragua. It was
a filmed trip with all the directors and stuff. I thought that was gonna be the
end of it. So, I talked to my record label, and they got really into it, and
ended up taking Andrew and I to Iceland. We went surfing there with some of our
favorite surfers. The whole idea was to mix surfers and musicians.
AP: Yeah, I’ve heard that Stephanie Gilmore, who’s the seven-time world champion, was on the trip.
CM: She’s so great, and she’s winning
at the moment, so she could win an eighth! We became friends and she takes me
surfing sometimes. It’s so great to watch her surf in real life. We came back
from the trip and made the music in New York, just for the Iceland
AP: How was the trip to Iceland? The water must have been freezing.
CM: Yeah, it was late October as well,
so it was getting cold. They put you in these wetsuits that cover most of your
face, but I’m really claustrophobic and I couldn’t get out of it by myself.
They had to help. You feel it on your face if you go under water. It stings
like acid water.
AP: You tend to blur the lines between humor and beauty in your music videos. Can you talk about how you conceptualize a video, like “I’m the Man, That Will Find You,” for example?
CM: I haven’t done a music video in
quite a long time. I didn’t direct those videos. I had friends direct them. I
do have a little bit of say, of course. With “I’m the Man, That Will Find You,”
my only input was rolling down those stairs. The rest of it was directed.
AP: So, you normally just ask a friend with a sense of taste you can trust?
CM: Yes, but I would love to do it
myself now. Back then, I would get friends to do it. I did one with my friends
Fleur & Manu in the forest just outside of Paris for that song called
“Faking Jazz Together.”
AP: Tonight, just like the past two nights, you will play ‘in the round,’ on a stage in the middle of the audience. Can you talk about how this format has been working out so far?
CM: It’s been great. I’ve done this
before when I was playing with a band and there weren’t so many people. We’d
move instruments on the floor and play in the middle of the audience. I’ve
always loved it. It’s nice for people to see, and there is a good atmosphere.
I’d love to do it more, but most venues don’t really allow it. But these past
nights in LA have been so good. I’ve really enjoyed it.
While most newly created galleries couldn’t make it through the hard reality of the art market in Los Angeles and pass the fateful milestone of the first two years, The Pit is about to celebrate its five year anniversary this month. I met with the co-founders and artists, Adam Miller and Devon Oder, for a chat at the gallery’s location in Glendale. As they gave me a tour of the three gallery spaces that make up The Pit , Adam stopped to point out a literal pit on the ground. “Here is The Pit,” he told me. In the forty-five minute long conversation that followed, we retraced the history of The Pit, talked about the benefits of doing it yourself, and pictured LA’s forthcoming art scene.
AGATHE PINARD: Can you tell us a little bit about the artists you’re currently showing?
ADAM MILLER: In the main gallery is Hilary Pecis, she’s an LA-based painter, and this is her first solo exhibition in Los Angeles. In The Pit II is Dani Tull, he’s been working in Los Angeles for many years, and has exhibited internationally. He makes sculpture, installation, and paintings. Hilary’s work is more of a painter’s painter practice: depictions of still lives, snapshots from Los Angeles, moments of her daily life; whereas Dani’s work is more conceptual. A lot of his work deals with mysticism, new age philosophy, and religions. In the zine shop, we have ceramics by Jennifer King, also a Los Angeles-based artist. Finally, in the back gallery, otherwise known as “The Pit Presents,” we have a group exhibition that was organized by Left Field, a gallery from Los Osos, California.
AGATHE PINARD: I heard that before running a gallery you were a musician. Can you talk about that a little?
ADAM MILLER: I moved to Los Angeles in 2006 to get my MFA from Art Center College of Design in Pasadena; that’s where Devon and I met. Previously, I was living in Sacramento where I was involved in the music scene. I moved there when I was eighteen and was already playing in punk bands, and then I moved more into garage and ‘60s revival music. But there was a real DIY ethos in Sacramento. Everyone ran record labels, booked their own tours, organized shows in alternative venues like laundromats, old theaters, and backyards, people made their own t-shirts, etc.. So, when I was young, that’s how life was, and when I was in bands, oftentimes, I was the person who did all that.
DEVON ODER: Of course, he did. As you’ll find out, he gets a lot done. (laughs)
ADAM MILLER: I do a lot of things. That’s basically how I learned to silkscreen. We’d make our own t-shirts in the bathroom of our apartments. During the four or five years I was living there, I helped set up my band with a record deal in Germany, and we were able to tour Europe. When I was in that band, I played the bass and I got a deal with the company, so they were sending me free bass guitars to play while on the road and things like that. So, pretty early on, I realized the benefits of doing it yourself, being super active, and not waiting for people to discover you or do things for you.
AGATHE PINARD: Were you going to school at that time?
ADAM MILLER: During that period of time, I was studying at Sacramento State University majoring in graphic design with a minor in fine art. Which also comes into play because I did a lot of the graphic design for the bands. Now, I do it here for The Pit. After two years, I switched to major in fine art and started organizing art shows at warehouses and underground venues in Sacramento. My first art show was at Kevin Seconds’ coffee shop, from legendary punk band 7 Seconds. Since I didn’t write the music, I felt like there was a shelf life to playing in the bands. I just started feeling less fulfilled playing music because I wasn’t fully expressing myself, and I had less control over it. So, I dropped out of all my bands and decided to apply to grad school. Getting into grad school was my real initiation to the fine art world. In Northern California, there was a bigger sort of graphic, street art component that related to the music scene, so I had been more involved with that.
When Devon and I were in grad school, we really wanted to figure out the LA art scene. We weren’t dating yet, but we both started working for the artist Sterling Ruby. She was the first office employee and I was the second studio assistant. So, while she was doing a lot of logistical, behind-the-scenes stuff for his exhibitions, I was doing fabrication, shipping, and installation while finishing grad school.
We finished grad school in 2008, the economy collapsed, a lot of the galleries in Los Angeles went under. So, I just kind of fell back on the way I was doing things when I was in bands. I started finding alternative spaces around Los Angeles and I would curate a group show. At that time, I’d put my own work in the show, and people were critical of that choice because hardly any artists were doing it. And every time I organized a show, I would make a zine and we would silkscreen the covers.
DEVON ODER: And it was also about extending our community. When you’re in graduate school, you’re in a super tight bubble, and then when you get out, you’re in your studio and you’re kind of twiddling your thumbs. The shows were really this great way to do a ton of studio visits and expand our world.
ADAM MILLER: Devon worked for Sterling Ruby until we opened the gallery in 2014. I worked for him until 2011, and then I decided I wanted my day job to be completely out of the art world. So, the other side of me as a person is that I’m involved in animal rights activism, so I worked for PETA in their grassroots campaigns for five years.
DEVON ODER: And he kept being like, “Let’s open our own space, let’s open our own space!” And at the time, it freaked me out.
AGATHE PINARD: So how did the idea of creating the gallery finally come together?
ADAM MILLER: It was a mix of things. We had done a lot of these shows for like five years and there weren’t many artist-run spaces still in operation in Los Angeles at the time. In 2013, Laura Owens opened 356 Mission, and that was radically inspiring. I think that’s when I was like, “I want to open a space.” I was so inspired to see an artist of her stature taking control of her own career, doing things for the community, for other artists to do things beyond just their own studio, their own practice, their own career, but to think more expansively about what an artist can do for the greater LA art community. Seeing someone just do it, and really shake off the judgment that people had about an artist showing their own work—that you shouldn’t organize your own shows— … Just get rid of these old ideas of what artists should, and shouldn’t do, and just be like, “I’m just gonna do it, and fuck it.” I thought it was so amazing and we started to look for a space about six months later.
DEVON ODER: So, we had this building as our studios, the part that you’re in right now, and we kept on thinking, “If we open our own space, how are we going to do that with day jobs, with our studio practice, and then another lease?” All of these things were adding up. Then, we were talking to our landlord about some ideas that we had and he was like, “Well, I’ve got these garages and I’ve just had my junk in them for over twenty years. You can have them if you clean them up.”
ADAM MILLER: It took us nine months to remodel and fix up the space; it was really crazy. The building had been a cabinet maker’s business at some point. So all the walls were covered in cabinetry and pockets of storage stuff that had just been gathering dust, and there was a dropped ceiling, broken windows, molded walls. It was a big undertaking.
DEVON ODER: We were wondering if this even could turn into a nice, pretty gallery?
AGATHE PINARD: You’d have to be pretty imaginative.
ADAM MILLER: It was 2013 when we started building the gallery. Most other galleries were still in Culver City, Hollywood, and Downtown was the new place where galleries were cropping up, but no one was located as far east as us. So that was another thing; we wondered if anyone would ever even come here.
DEVON ODER: When we opened it wasn’t a commercial gallery; it was a real artist project space. We did group shows curated by us, as well as by other artists. We did that for a couple of years.
ADAM MILLER: Yeah, we were several years in before we even had any public hours. I think we did two years of appointment-only.
AGATHE PINARD: At the beginning, in 2014, The Pit was a project space for wide-ranging group shows. Five years later, The Pit now has three galleries and a zine shop. Can you talk about the evolution of the project?
ADAM MILLER: We’ve slowly been able to take over more and more of the building.
DEVON ODER: Adam’s whole motto is if there is any available space you need to do something with it.
ADAM MILLER: What happened with The Pit II is that someone living across the street had a fancy car and just stored it in there. Every day that we would be here working he would pull it out and wash it in front of the gallery. It was a really funny scenario. This older guy would take his shirt off and wash the car, wax it, and stuff. Anyways, eventually he sold the car and didn’t need the space anymore.
DEVON ODER: And we always said right when we met him: “if you ever want to give up that garage, we’ll take it.”
ADAM MILLER: The first Pit II show opened in February 2015, so we were a year and a half in. That was the first time we ever did a solo show. We had only done group shows up to that point. That was a big moment for us because it really shifted the direction of the gallery. We started finding that working with one artist for a longer period of time on a solo project was so rewarding. Doing group shows was such a different experience. Group shows are really, really fun, but when you work with a friend, or someone who becomes a friend, you help them realize this vision; this big thing for their career—which is a solo show. It just feels like such a monumental thing in an artist’s life and it just feels more collaborative. Then somewhere along the line we started doing art fairs and became more commercial, started selling things, and I was able to leave my day job at a certain point.
AGATHE PINARD: The Pit Presents, one of the exhibition spaces, hosts galleries from other cities in a series of residencies and swaps. Can you talk about the initiative behind it?
ADAM MILLER: The back gallery (The Pit Presents) was three single car garages that we took over. A laundromat was using them for storage. The landlord asked if we’d want to take another chunk of the building and we snatched them up because, in my mind, if any space is available we should do something interesting with it.
DEVON ODER: We had no plans on expanding at that point.
ADAM MILLER: To be frank, at the time, we weren’t making enough sales in order to take on more overhead. So, we thought let’s just remodel it and we’ll rent it to another gallery. Then we’ll have a neighbor, and we can have shared openings and parties together. That was our initial idea. So we built it out, made it really nice, and started looking for someone to rent it. We got the space in 2017, and September 2018 was the first show. We were contacting people about renting out the gallery and we were speaking to a friend of ours who runs a gallery in Mexico City, who had an idea to run it as a collaborative. So he and four other gallerists from Latin America rented the space, and they called it Ruberta, which is the name of the street that we’re on. Each gallery got to do one show throughout the year. During that time The Getty was doing the Pacific Standard Time: LA/LA initiative, which had an emphasis on Los Angeles and Latin American connections in contemporary art. They rented the space, created Ruberta, and then their exhibitions and projects were promoted through the Getty and associated with Pacific Standard Time. So, it was a really amazing thing. That was only going to be one year. It ended last summer and we were trying to think of what to do with the gallery moving forward. I’m the primary salesperson, and we don’t really have the staff or manpower to fully program and sell a third space year round. We were trying to think about what was successful with Ruberta and how to start doing something similar, but in-house. So, basically we could insure it, staff it, and have a little more control. An issue with that was that they were all out of town, and had very limited hours. People were constantly asking us to open it up and we were uncomfortable doing that because it wasn’t our space, and we couldn’t speak intelligently about all the art, all the time.
That’s when we decided to do The Pit Presents, which is almost like a residency. We invite other galleries, whom we select, they put on a show, they program it, and they sell it, in most cases.
AGATHE PINARD: The art market being what it is right now, which aspects of founding a gallery have come most naturally, and which have been the most difficult?
ADAM MILLER: Well, the financial aspect is probably the most difficult. The best part is working with the artists and having a platform to support them. It will always be my favorite thing about owning a gallery.
DEVON ODER: The hardest part is being a business person.
ADAM MILLER: We’ve had to figure out how it worked. I think we have a different business model than most galleries. To be frank, that’s why we’re in Glendale: keep our overhead as low as we possibly can—and part of that is being outside of the normal gallery hubs. That’s why we now do so many shows at a time. We’re always trying to think outside the box. I would say that a normal gallery’s business model is to have a really nice space with fairly high overhead, and then do one show at a time of pretty expensive artworks, and depend on selling enough of that to cover everything. That’s the opposite of us. We keep it as low as we can, and we have lots of different opportunities for sales at various price points. We also sell shirts, artist books, limited editions, and host a lot events to keep people coming back to the shows and spend time in the zine shop.
DEVON ODER: Which allows us to be able to keep doing experimental things that might be more difficult to sell.
ADAM MILLER: You have to offset those with other things and figure that out. Budgets and profit/loss reports… that’s the not fun part, but it’s an important part that you have to learn.
AGATHE PINARD: How does an artist-run gallery compete with, and cohabitate with, much larger, blue-chip galleries, and such? What’s your relationship to them?
ADAM MILLER: Our roster of represented artists focuses primarily on emerging artists, but we work with a fair amount of larger, mid-career artists. So, usually, when we work with a bigger artist, we’re trying to see how we can collaborate with their bigger galleries to make it successful for everyone. We do really well with getting press for artists; they’re able to do more experimental projects that they might not be able to do in a bigger space that has a different type of overhead.
When we work with a bigger artist that’s been showing in a bigger gallery, I almost feel like we become their PR machine. Ideally, we’ll get them a lot of press. We have done quite well with certain artists, where they’ve been showing at great galleries, but maybe things have slowed down a little bit, and then we’ve been able to do a show with them and get them press by really pushing things hard on social media and through our networks. And the year after that, we’ll see that they have two or three shows with different galleries and they’re being taken to different fairs. Not that we are exclusively responsible for that, but I think we can help re-kickstart things and get a different audience to look at the work.
DEVON ODER: And then, we get to work with some of our idols; people we admire. That’s been so exciting.
AGATHE PINARD: You just participated in the first ever Frieze Art Fair in Los Angeles earlier this year. What was the experience like?
ADAM MILLER: It was an amazing experience for us, really great. It felt like a real validating moment—being one of the artist-run spaces. We were by far one of the smallest galleries there. The reception was wonderful. We did incredibly well both in networking and sales. It was also super good exposure for the artists. From a sales point of view, this is the strongest year the gallery has ever had, and a lot of it goes back to starting the year off so strong with that fair.
DEVON ODER: For a young, small gallery like us, fairs are the trickiest thing ever because they’re so expensive to do and if they don’t work it’s hard to recover. But when it does work, it can be so beneficial. Frieze was invitational and we just felt very great being there. It had a good vibe, good energy.
ADAM MILLER: It really felt like the LA art scene was championing us a little bit, it was really nice. We felt like the underdogs who made it to the big leagues or something. As Devon was saying, for us one fair can be a quarter of the year’s overhead. So, if we take a big hit on a fair, it can completely screw us up financially for the year, so we have to be very careful.
DEVON ODER: The artists that we represent tend to be emerging, so we have to sell more pieces because the price points tend to be lower.
AGATHE PINARD: How do you envision Los Angeles’s artistic landscape in the future?
ADAM MILLER: I picture it continuing to spread out away from the hubs in Hollywood and Culver City and Downtown. Galleries will start being more independent, in terms of looking elsewhere for lower overhead, rather than clustering together. I feel like when galleries cluster together it ends up driving up the rents in those neighborhoods, and eventually they leave looking for new spaces, and in the process a number of the galleries will close because it’s expensive to get a new space and move your business. I hope that there will continue to be more artist-run spaces. There are a plethora of young artist-run spaces now, which is amazing, and I hope that more will continue to open. We need more new galleries too, not just artist-run spaces, in particular we need more smaller galleries.
DEVON ODER: What’s so exciting now is that I feel like there are so many artist-run spaces again. So many artists are doing interesting things; it feels very active. Los Angeles just feels so active and free. People are opening spaces wherever. There’s artist-run spaces opening in Alhambra, Pasadena, everywhere. That’s exciting, it creates more opportunities for artists and allows for more diverse practices to thrive.
AGATHE PINARD: I also feel like the DIY movement that Adam was talking about in Sacramento is going strong right now in LA. I have friends opening mini art galleries in their backyard shed; they just remodeled the whole thing and made a tiny gallery that can maybe fit five or ten people at the same time.
DEVON ODER: Yes, if you’ve got the space, just use it! I love apartment galleries… just utilizing the space, just getting the work seen, and having that accessibility is really great.
AGATHE PINARD: What’s coming up next for The Pit?
DEVON ODER: Our five-year anniversary is next month, so we’re throwing a huge party. We’ll have a solo show by Benjamin Weissman in the main space, who is an artist that we’ve known and loved for years. He taught both of us at Art Center and we now represent him at The Pit. In the Pit II, Jaime Muñoz will be curating a group show. Tyler Mako will be in The Pit Presents. In our zine shop, we will be doing a solo exhibition by Christina Tubbs which will also be a benefit for the Exceptional Children’s Foundation Art Centers. The ECF Art Centers are a series of four professional art studios located across Los Angeles County that create artistic opportunities for artists with developmental disabilities. We are very excited to be able to support this amazing non-profit and to showcase the work of one of their talented artists.
ADAM MILLER: At the party, we will have a performance by KISK, a KISS tribute band, which includes the artist Jon Pylypchuk. He is a good friend of ours and a supporter of the gallery from the beginning.
DEVON ODER: He was in our third show here at the gallery. He’ll be performing, we’ll have food trucks, our friends will be DJing, so please come!
Surf Discovery for Social Survival is the surf/music feature film born from the collaboration of Chris Gentile from New York-based surf brand Pilgrim Surf + Supply and Keith Abrahmsson from the record label Mexican Summer. Together they started this ambitious project to connect surf, sound and sight and make a film that would satisfy most senses. World-renowned surfers including Stephanie Gilmore, Ryan Burch, Creed McTaggart and Ellis Ericson joined musicians Allah-Las, Peaking Lights, Connan Mockasin and MGMT ’s Andrew VanWyngarden on this surf journey starting from a secret spot in Mexico, to the southern atolls of the Maldive Islands, and ending in the cold waters of Iceland. The film is narrated by a man who is often referenced as the godfather of American avant-garde, the late Jonas Mekas. I had the chance to talk to the artist, photographer and film director Chris Gentile about the making of his first feature-length film, bringing together artists and surfers, and working with Jonas Mekas.
AGATHE PINARD: I wanted to start by asking about the meaning behind the title, Self Discovery for Social Survival, can you explain it?
CHRIS GENTILE: When we started to conceptualize the film, myself and Keith Abrahamsson from Mexican Summer, we were thinking a lot about music and its relationship to surfing. Surfing is this activity, this pursuit that people engage in and that kind of helps people detach from what they’re do day-to-day, give them some contemplative time to sort of go inward and we were trying to come up with this name, and along the way I came across an old book that was written for climbing, for people who would free climb and climb up mountains. It was basically a book that gave people a pathway to overcome fear. The book was titled Self Discovery for Social Survival. Keith and I both felt like that really resonated with the spirit of what this film was about. Surfers are constantly looking for that open and free space to have a moment in nature, where two forces are meeting each other and the surfers are in the space where the energy that’s coming from nature is dying and being born at the same time. We felt like this title had a lot of metaphoric possibilities and decided to go for it. It’s a mouthful, it’s a big title.
PINARD: This is an ambitious project that mixes surfing, music and animation done by the in house designer of Mexican Summer…
GENTILE: Yes, Bailey Elder but also Robert Beatty, who’s an independent artist and illustrator.
PINARD: How did the idea/project come together ?
It was evolving the whole time we were making the film, it was a very open-ended and experimental process. The one thing that I really wanted to maintain was an open-endedness with everybody involved. So there are multiple points of influence that went into the filmmaking. I didn’t give the surfers any directions while they surfed. We travelled together, we picked these particular places, and they were reacting to the waves that were there for a two-week period of time, and the cinematographers were reacting to the way the surfers were surfing, positioning themselves to get the shot that felt right. I really left a lot of that control up to them. The musicians who were involved were on these trips and they were in the water and surfing the same waves that the professional surfers we travelled with were surfing. They have a first experience and perspective on what was going on. The idea was to let them go back into the studio and have complete creative freedom over the music that they wrote in reaction.
PINARD: What about the animation?
GENTILE: When that came into play, we showed a rough cut to Bailey and Robert. Then Keith Abrahamsson picked a couple of songs that he felt were appropriate to transition from one location like Mexico to the Maldives. To put a song and an animation that would kind of be like a mental palette cleanser, Keith came up with these two fantastic songs. One was an archival song from the seventies, “Void Spirit,” and the other one was a song that was made by Jefre Cantu-Ledesma for the film. Jefre isn’t a surfer, he wasn’t on the trip but he made these beautiful compositions inspired by the idea of being under water, being under the ocean. So, those tracks were given to Bailey and Robert along with the access to this footage, and they reacted and created these animations. Everything was very independent to one another, every aspect of the film. I kind of kept everything on track and helped people when they need my help, but really it was exercise––relinquishing ego and control, and letting everybody’s influence come in and affect the overall project.
PINARD: That’s funny, last week I interviewed Connan Mockasin and we talked about the trip he made to Iceland for the movie, and how he was impressed at the beginning to be around these professional surfers like Stephanie Gilmore who’s a seven-time world champion.
GENTILE: One of the things that I had to do was to think deeply about the personalities that we were going to introduce to one another on these adventures because most of the people didn’t know each other. And taking a surf trip, you don’t know what you’re going to get. There’s no guarantee that the waves are going to be good, or that the weather is going to be good, or a tire may go flat. You may miss opportunities or you may get opportunities that you would never expect. When we went on these trips I had to think about how the group would feel and I was just going off my own instincts and my own guts. The trip to Iceland was really special because it was a group of really different people. They all had a sincere admiration and appreciation for one another. Everyone became fast friends. Iceland was interesting because we were traveling all over that country chasing these storms and these waves. Sometimes getting them and sometimes missing them, but we spent so much time in these vans just traveling across this incredible landscape. Everyone got a lot of time to know each other, more so than on the other trips because on the other trips it was a lot more surfing, people were getting tired, it was different. Iceland was the one where I think the actual chase for the waves was the beauty in that trip, more so than the wave riding.
PINARD: For the movie you took some surfers and went on a trip to Mexico, the Maldives and Iceland, which one was your favorite ?
GENTILE: That’s a great question. I mean, I’ve been to that spot in Mexico so many times and it’s one of my favorite places on the planet. I loved the opportunity to go down there with that group of people, but I have to say the Maldives was really unique and special, because we had this group of Australian surfers together that were kind of like a brotherhood. That trip, we were on a boat, the whole entire time, on an old, old boat. It travels really slowly, had a lot of character and a great captain and a great crew. It was not posh by any means, it was kind of a busted boat. But it was so fun because everybody was just excited to be around each other, find waves, fish. The kind of boredom that you experience on these boats, these guys were wild and doing the most hilarious stuff. Some of it we couldn’t put in the movie it was crazy, drunken backflips off of the boat completely nude at like 3 o’clock in the morning. It was incredible, very memorable.
PINARD: The film is narrated by the late, legendary Jonas Mekas, it might have been the last project he worked on…
GENTILE: I know that Jonas filmed his life every day, so I’m sure that that footage is truly his last work. On this project we were so fortunate to have him agree to come and narrate. The words are Jamie Brisick and Jonas read them. It was so special to get to meet him and experience his humility and his generosity, it was fantastic. If it weren’t for Jonas, I don’t think we could have made a film like this. He’s had so much influence on me as a young artist throughout my life. He gave us, me and the rest of the people at Mexican Summer, everyone, he truly gave us the license to make the film. So, to have him narrate it was an honor, it was so special.
PINARD: How did you get him to work on the project?
GENTILE:Keith Abrahamsson is really responsible for that. Keith presented him with this idea and had already been working with Jonas on a couple of other things, helping him with his archives. They had a working relationship together. Keith asked him if he would be up for narrating the film, and explained to him what it was, and I think it was so strange that he thought it was worth doing. It wasn’t very difficult. He got in a recording studio with him, drank a couple glasses of wine, and I think in one or two takes he nailed the narration. It was great.
PINARD: The movie will premiere in LA this Saturday, are you excited? How do you feel about it ?
GENTILE: I’m a little nervous, I’ve never directed a film before. I’ve made a lot of short films, experimental films, but nothing that’s feature-length, and at this scale, and this level of production. I’m so grateful to have the experience. I’ve learned a lot from it. I’m really excited to see it in front of an audience, see the reaction, see the bands perform live to it, it’s going to be so special.
Self Discovery For Social Survival will premiere in Los Angeles this Saturday June 15 at The Palace Theatre with a live score by Connan Mockasin, Andrew VanWyngarden of MGMT and Allah-Las.
Lucia Berlin reached world-wide recognition eleven years after her death with the publication of selected semi-autobiographical stories, A Manual for Cleaning Women. The book made the New York Times best-seller list in its second week and Berlin subsequently became one of America’s most influential short-story writer. From Alaska to Albuquerque, Kentucky, Mexico, New York City, California or even Chile, the author spent her life on the move and lived a life full of experiences and adventures that makes up the great tales in her books. She has been married three times, has had four sons, worked many odd jobs and had a weakness for alcohol that led her to rehab a couple times.
Farrar, Straus & Giroux is simultaneously publishing two new books by Berlin: the short-story collection Evening in Paradise and a memoir with selected photographs and letters Welcome Home.
Evening in Paradise brings together twenty-two stories not included in A Manual for Cleaning Women. These fictions share the same voice, warmth, depth and humor of the best work from prior collection.
Welcome Home is a book of previously unpublished autobiographical sketches Berlin was working on before she died in 2004. This memoir consists of more than twenty chapters, structured around each of the places she called home during her lifetime, beginning in Depression-era Alaska and ending (prematurely) in 1966 in southern Mexico.
Margaret Kilgallen was born in 1967 in Washington D.C. She was a painter and a graffiti artist living a bohemian lifestyle, she could be found surfing a longboard on a beach south of San Francisco, collecting old books or playing banjo. Early on she developed a fascination for lettering and printing techniques as well as southwest and Mexican artists. Her work shows a strong influence from those artists as well as the folk art from whom she borrowed a warm color palette and bold letters.
Through her work Kilgallen explored her own inspirations: subculture, the lives of women who lived in the margin and nature. She was going against the current, against the mainstream.
18 years after she passed away from breast cancer, the Aspen Art Museum is honoring the Bay Area artist with an exhibition of her key works alongside never-before-seen works, examining her roots in printmaking, American and Non-Western folk history, and feminist strategies of representation. The exhibition is titled after this extract from an interview she gave to Art21: “I don’t project or use anything mechanical, because even though I do spend a lot of time trying to perfect my line work and my hand, my hand will always be imperfect because it’s human. And I think it’s the part that’s off that’s interesting, that even if I’m doing really big letters, and I spend a lot of time going over the line and over the line and trying to make it straight, I’ll never be able to make it straight. From a distance, it might look straight, but when you get close up, you can always see the line waver. And I think that’s where the beauty is.”
We were fortunate enough to have a moment with AAM Senior Curator Courtenay Finn, who curated the exhibition in consultation with Heidi Zuckerman, CEO and Director of Aspen Art Museum.
What was the process like of curating this exhibition, how did you pick the pieces and what was your intention with this posthumous retrospective?
As the research around Kilgallen’s work developed, I decided to use her exhibition history as a chronological tool. I formulated the checklist for the AAM’s show from her pivotal and important exhibitions—both group and solo—to start with her first solo show at the Drawing Center in 1997 and end with her last installation, Main Drag (2001), which was created for the ICA Philadelphia’s group exhibition East Meets West: Folk and Fantasy from the Coasts. The exhibition also includes works made during her time working as a book conservator at the San Francisco Public Library, her first print edition with Berkeley’s Paulson Press (now Paulson Fontaine Press), and a piece saved from her large-scale commissioned installation in the parking garage as part of Made in California: Art, Image, and Identity at theLos Angeles County Museum of Art.
I wanted the exhibition to trace both the development of her work over time, revealing her tendency to reuse pieces and aspects of her installations in different forms, while also showing changes in scale, technique, and material. Examining Kilgallen’s roots in the histories of printmaking, typography, American and Non-Western folk history and folklore, I wanted the collection of works to illustrate her belief in a direct connection between art and life, and her commitment to scratching against the larger grain of culture to give space for alternative stories.
Kilgallen fervently believed that women should be more visible within the visual landscape and was committed to inspiring a younger generation of women. She wanted her work to “change the emphasis on what’s important when looking at a woman.” The act of reclaiming space for women is especially timely in today’s sociopolitical climate, and Kilgallen’s evocation of women as strong and multifaceted offers a poignant reminder that diverse adventures, narratives, and ways of being are possible.
Kilgallen had much respect for self-expression through craftsmanship, could you explain the importance of hand making things in a world where everything is now massively and mechanically produced?
When Kilgallen moved to San Fransciso in 1989 it was right at the height of the dot.com boom, where technology and development were irrevocably changing the landscape of San Francisco. In her Art21 interview given in 2001, she talks about how confounding it is that people see graffiti and street art as ugly or a nuisance without investigating or considering the barrage of advertising in public space. One is an expression of an individual while the other’s intent is commerce. Kilgallen’s respect for the mark of the hand, be it a train tag, a public mural, or a hand painted sign, acknowledges the importance of what it means to make a mark on the world. We live in a world bombarded by visual information and layered with images, many of which are tied to commercialism and capitalism. For me, the importance of the handmade in today’s commercial world is that it reminds us that there is a person behind the work. It advocates for a quality of time, celebrating the impact that can come from hard work, while also reminding us of the inherent joy that comes from being present, alive, and expressive.
The exhibition is titled ‘that’s where the beauty is’ in reference to an interview Kilgallen gave where she was talking about how beauty actually lies in imperfection. What’s your interpretation of the title?
Kilgallen said, “I like to see people’s hand in the world, anywhere in the world; it doesn’t matter to me where it is. And in my own work, I do everything by hand. I don’t project or use anything mechanical, because even though I do spend a lot of time trying to perfect my line work and my hand, my hand will always
be imperfect because it’s human. And I think it’s the part that’s off that’s interesting, that even if I’m doing really big letters, and I spend a lot of time going over the line and over the line and trying to make it straight, I’ll never be able to make it straight. From a distance, it might look straight, but when you get close up, you can always see the line waver. And I think that’s where the beauty is.”
My interpretation of the title is rooted in this idea that beauty and joy can be found outside mainstream narratives and definitions. There is more than just one way to exist in the world, to make one’s mark, and to live. In Kilgallen’s work we are reminded that there is beauty to found in imperfection, in the seemingly ordinary, and in the everyday. In her hands a found piece of wood becomes a canvas, a torn piece of paper just the beginning of a new story. Kilgallen’s work asks us to look closer, and once we do, a whole new world of possibility has suddenly opened up.
Can you talk about Mission School, the art movement that started in the early 90’s in the Mission district of San Francisco and which Kilgallen was a central figure of?
The term Mission School was first used by Glen Helfand in 2002 to describe a common thread occurring between artists working in the San Francisco Bay Area in the late nineties. Focusing on the use of found objects and materials, street art, and an embrace of folk and craft techniques, many of the artists involved have been internationally recognized and celebrated. Yet as with any movement or designated community, the artists within it also openly discuss that the Mission School itself wasn’t limited to just the neighborhood of the Mission District and included a more diverse and widespread community than is often included within the larger narrative. In terms of Kilgallen, she was intimately engaged within the larger community of artists working around her, not to mention very active within the larger fabric of the city itself. For example, Kilgallen participated in a series of community-based public art projects, including working with other artists’ works to create new handmade store signage for Andy’s Locker and Mail Services with the Luggage Store Gallery/509 Cultural Center, San Francisco.
Kilgallen, like the many others working around her, worked both inside and outside, making her work accessible to larger audiences. She would create site-specific pieces for exhibitions, but also outside in public space, directly onto train cars, and for friends and colleagues. She used the bottoms of skateboards, made T-shirts, drew record albums, and created her own zines and artist books, believing that all modes of expression and dissemination were equally important.
Kilgallen’s work is also intrinsically and undoubtedly influenced by the city of San Francisco, and the larger California landscape at large, yet what stands out within her work is how she created her own culture of characters, symbols, and a means of storytelling that celebrated ordinary people with dignity.
Is there anything else you feel the audience should know about this exhibit?
In addition to the exhibition, the AAM is producing a fully illustrated, comprehensive catalogue of Kilgallen’s work. It will include full-color images of artworks, archival images of previous exhibitions and installations, as well as newly commissioned essays on her work. Filled with new imagery, ephemera, and scholarship, the publication willprovide a comprehensive introduction to this important twentieth-century artist, especially for those coming to her work for the first time.
Margaret Kilgallen at Aspen Art Museum from January 12 to June 16.
A year ago I moved from my native little Bordeaux to one of the biggest cities in the world, Los Angeles. Once settled in, it didn’t take long for me to venture on dating apps to see what this city is made of. After carefully avoiding any guy posing proudly with an American flag or, holding a gun while sporting a red hat, I finally dived into that stinky, filthy green-colored pool that is dating in Los Angeles. Even though you’d be right to assume that guys are guys anywhere on the planet, whether they are having a croissants or a burritos for breakfast, I did found some cultural differences I wasn’t quite prepared for.
LESSONS ON FRENCH FLIRTING.
We have very different ways of showing to someone that we like them. When I first arrived in the U.S. and still today, I have trouble distinguishing if someone is flirting with me or if they are just being friendly. I’ve had a couple encounters when I mistakenly assumed a guy was gay when he was in fact flirting with me. It only hit me that I was being flirted with when the person tried to kiss me. More often than not those attempted kisses came out of the blue for me as I had no idea these persons had any interest in me. With a French guy it doesn’t take me more than a few minutes to understand that he is interested. I would describe it as French people being a more direct when Americans are more implicit. I feel like there is that grey area with American people where you’re not sure if you are being hit on or not, you kind of have to guess, be instinctive. On the contrary when a French person is flirting with you, you’re very unlikely to doubt they are. In France we have this expression “faire du rentre-dedans” which means seducing with ostentation, or even with abruptness. I guess you could talk about aggressive flirting? We like verbal flirting, playing with words and their meaning and being straightforward regarding our intentions, it’s a game. You’re flirting in a very obvious way and it’s fun to see the other person being destabilized by it.
GETTIN’ READY FOR THE FIRST DATE.
This is the primary difference between French and American dates. I’ve noticed that an American girl getting ready for her date will try to put all odds and her side, putting her best makeup skills at work, highlighting, contour and even some glitter (No offense, they do look magical). An American girl will show up to a first date looking like she’s about to be cast for the next Victoria’s Secret show. I showed up to my first ever American date wearing jeans, converse, and no more make up than usual, which means mascara and foundation.
Culturally in France, you don’t arrive to your date dressed like it’s New Year’s Eve, we’re too proud to let the guy think we’d even try to look our best just for him, so we stick to the mantra ‘less is more.’ One might say we try hard to make it look like we didn’t try hard. It’s actually more about finding the right balance between ‘I’m wearing my most expensive clothes, putting on all of the makeup I own on my face and may I just find one last thing to throw on! Gosh, I hope he likes it” vs ‘This is the sweatpants I slept in, where is the beer at?’
Now after a few drinks and hopefully a good talk the barman/waiter, no question asked, hands the check directly to the guy. That’s downright offensive to me. French women are independent women or at least trying to be and someone paying for your drink can be seen as going back to when we had to rely on a man to buy something. During my first night out in LA every time a guy would ask to buy me drink I would answer: “No, I can pay for my own drink.”
American feminism is more like “I’m a pretty girl and I know my worth, the least this guy could do is buy me a drink.” In Los Angeles it seems like a standard for the guy to pay for the first drinks or the first restaurant but even after that it’s very common for them to try to pay for everything. In France the norm is equality, everyone pays for their own drink or food. We simply don’t like to feel like we owe the guy something because he got the drinks. At the beginning I was very embarrassed to let a guy pay for myself. To a French girl, it feels like the guy is trying to show his financial superiority if he doesn’t at least let you reciprocate the gesture. To be fair, that’s the one thing that wasn’t so hard to adjust to. It’s pretty easy to abandon your “I’m an independent woman” flag when you’re working two unpaid internships and a decent enough looking stranger offers you a drink.
THE. FUCKING. TALK. (THAT NO ONE EVER WARNED YOU ABOUT)
Eventually you end up developing feelings for each other and fall into that grey area where you’re not sure that you’re in a relationship, yet you don’t feel like it’s ok for either of you to see someone else. And that’s where our two countries diverge.
In the U.S., as long as two people do not SAY they are exclusive, each of them are free to see other people, even if they’ve been seeing each other for months. If they don’t put a word on the relationship, if it’s not clearly defined, you two are not exclusive. And that’s where I’d like to thank no one because no one told me about this. In France, you don’t have to talk about it to know that at some point, after a couple months of dating, it’s definitely not ok to see someone else. You just know. After months of hanging out and just naturally shifting from solely nighttime activities and bedroom fun to seeing each other in plain daylight and meeting your respective friends. It would make sense that you’re now more than hookup buddies and are implicitly, without having to talk about it, not seeing anybody else.
As a French person, it just sounds absurd that you have to say things when all you have to do is observe. If you know how you both feel toward each other, you know it’s time to not fuck around, no talk needed.