ONE TO WATCH:CRAIG GREEN PROFILE

Photography:David Poole. Model: Sandis @ Next.

It’s not everyday a design student’s portfolio is constructed from planks of MDF, nor is their business card is cut out of blond wood with their name actually branded onto it. And probably not if that student has just graduated from a menswear BA degree either. But at Central Saint Martins, which has released such mavericks as John Galliano and Christopher Kane onto the world, the concept of what is usual and ‘everyday’ holds little definition.

Indeed, the work of designer Craig Green is an imaginatively personal and alternative response to menswear. His silhouette, squared and angular, is dramatically capped by towering headwear. Most come with hanging wooden ‘chopsticks’ that obscure the wearer’s face, others resemble dollhouses, or birthday cakes. The clothes, created in block colours, are linear ensembles of vinyl, rubber, plaited foam and wooden embellishments. The effect is more Meccano than McQueen: playful but pragmatic, boyish but robust.

Furthermore, there is a synergy between these characteristics and the designer himself. In person, Green is a cheerful, gentle blend of self-deprecation and optimism. He notes the absurdity of being dressed head to toe in Primark, whilst we prepare for this ‘serious’ interview and the accompanying photo shoot of his degree collection. It is this gentle humour, and lack of pretension, that runs throughout his sketchbooks and our interview alike.

Unlike most fashion students, clothing wasn’t initially in his mind when starting higher education. He had pursued fine art, but switched to a fashion pathway to accompany some friends – he’d never touched a sewing machine and he hadn’t even heard of Alexander McQueen. Pleased he was the first in the family to be going to university, his relatives were then stunned it was fashion he’d chosen to study.

Indeed Craig questioned his own motivations, especially after creating some ‘terrible’ clothes for women, but he found direction when he focused on menswear. Stocky and bearded himself, Green’s energy is removed from the feminine overtones that are currently pervading menswear. He laughs whilst relating how his ‘sausage fingers’ couldn’t handle working with delicate dresses.

And so he went the opposite direction. From a family of tradesmen, it’s interesting how non-fashion fabrics and skills have found their way into his work. Watching our model pose for the camera in one of his surreal outfits, Green talks me through the work that went into the garments:

“The leather shorts are my favourite piece. The beads? You know those wooden car seats you get in taxis – we spray painted the beads from one of those and then they are connected to plastic straws. The boots are just rubber Wellington boots my Uncle upholstered with wool.” There is something refreshingly workaday, and genuine, about the unfussy attitude to fabric choices, which somehow grounds the final visual effect. Nonetheless that total look is uncompromisingly dramatic, especially when accessorised with an oversized duffle bag, pegged with wooden slats, and looking like a cross between a ghetto blaster and a turbine engine. Balloons sprouting out of the tubes of the wooden helmet round off the proportions of the look.

Looking through his workbooks, Craig shows how his basic hand drawn designs in 2-D ended up influencing the final 3-D construction. Taking inspiration from the Bauhaus (Germany’s legendary design school) and it’s simple graphics and bold costume designs, he simply began to ignore the lines of the human body. Soon his abstract designs had a rigidity to them that could only be realized by more sculptural means, moving his work on from clothing design and into a place between costume and art. His pieces defy categorization in layman’s terms: can a circular coil of plaited red foam that cocoons the entire upper body be labelled knitwear or just ‘insulation’?

Elsewhere in his research the spongy look of sports mascots, pets in novelty superhero clothing and primitive 1960’s robots inform his use of oversized geometric shapes, bold colour and mechanical symbolism that is more naïve, than technical. Folk art provided a strong influence, and that suits Green’s role as some kind of non-fashion fashion creator.

Craig also points out his attraction to older, beefier men, and how that old fashioned masculinity, though recently more visible in mainstream fashion (take the recent resurgence of the beard), is still niche. In some way the generous and strong physical proportions in his designs communicate to the similar body shape he finds desirable.

Whilst researching Green gained confidence in his aesthetic when he came across Walter Van Beirendonck, the influential and avant garde Belgian designer who began his career in the Antwerp Six collective with Dries Van Noten. Van Beirendonck’s work – an exploration of masculinity that references gay subculture, and enables unconventional fabrics to communicate a bold, positive sartorial message, is the perfect godfather to Green’s development as a designer. Subsequently he won a six month internship with Walter in Antwerp, where he painstakingly researched in his library and picked through his 20 year archive.

Green is in awe of the Belgian’s expansive career, especially in tune with how Van Beirendonck has rarely watered down his vision. Green is keen to pursue this sensibility of creativity before commerciality, he couldn’t imagine working on mainstream menswear, and would one day love to design under his own name. For now he juggles freelance work, recently styling the windows of London boutique Kokon To Zai with a backdrop of hanging potatoes (“They’ve just started sprouting this week!”), and interning for a London hat designer. Later this year he will start on St.Martin’s renowned MA course, surely an environment perfectly suited to Green’s mix of unorthodox workmanship and eccentric fashion vision.

Words: Alex Mein

A visit to Nigel Cabourn

Stepping through a set of wooden gates into a traditional, English garden, and finding a stone path curl past leafy, lush borders to a converted gardeners building, the last thing you expect to find is a fashion designer. But the setting could not be more appropriate for Nigel Cabourn, a very British designer who’s work and inspiration is a far cry from the metropolitan hub of most fashion capitals. Now in his 60’s, with a design career spanning 40 years, he is arguably working at the height of his career, designing high-end collections sold in the world’s most influential stores.

It was mid 20th Century pop culture, specifically it’s music and lifestyle, that once served as a springboard for Cabourn’s original foray into design in the late 1960’s. His love of artists like Procul Harum, Marvin Gaye and The Small Faces saw him designing loon pants and beginning his Cricket clothing line in 1970.

But times have changed for Cabourn. The temporal whimsies of fashion trends now pass the designer by, as he happily does them in return. Cabourn actually put his business on hiatus in 2001, only recently returning to design his eponymous line following the decision to design purely what he wanted and at the highest end of the market possible.

His vintage clothing archive has become renowned- it totals more than 4,000 rare pieces. It is these garments that form the root of what he strives to perfect: the development of bygone garments, who’s original combinations of form, fabric and function are so originally perfect, his revival of them, act more as celebrations than interpretations.

He works on two lines, one made in Japan, the other made in the UK as much as is possible. He passionately believes in sourcing British manufacturers, and working from vintage British clothing. His father served in the military and his journals from the Second World War have formed the basis for a recent collection. Today he zips round his studio in search of a prototype cricket jumper to give to his Uncle for his 90-something birthday.

In his bright, airy studio there is a rail of garments, dangling off meat hooks, catching the sun; Nigel buzzes over each piece with a charming, positive energy. He loves the fabrication of a Japanese overcoat with displaced pockets from world war one, and has sourced an inventive jeep jacket- lined with sheepskin, the pockets are fitted with glove like hand warmers- he enthuses with his team over the idea of recreating the piece in Harris tweed.

The next collection, for A/W 2011, will be themed around World War 1 pieces, and these are recent acquisitions that will form it’s template. He urges me to handle a swatch of cotton dating from 1905 that he recently tracked down in Berlin, noting you would no longer find a fabric that feels the same and this swatch will likely be reproduced by a Japanese mill he works closely with. Indeed, it’s mixture of weight and texture means it feels quite unusual.

Despite his fervent attention to detail, Cabourn’s work is not overwhelming purist; perhaps his background in design draws his work out of the nostalgic and niche reproduction market, and into a territory that is fresh and contemporary. A hooded jacket from the SS11 collection is actually cut from a dapper pink gingham shirting but coated with waterproof beeswax to make it light, crisp and entirely appropriate for a modern British summer.

Words:Alex Mein

reference points around the studio

" Nigel Cabourn in his studio with his father's journal from World War Two."

WOLFGANG TILLMANS AT THE SERPENTINE.

26th June – 19th September 2010

Wolfgang Tillman’s new exhibition opened at the Serpentine last weekend and focuses mostly on work he has done over the last six years.

The show is hung beautifully, varying in scale, big and small proudly together. The gallery space vibrates with intensity and colour in one corner then stops you in your tracks with a fuck off piece in the other. Many of the figurative photographs were taken on Tilllman’s recent travels but they share a commonality in their depictions of humans living their lives. Roy (2009) is a tender glimpse into a moment in time for a mother and child and the almost sculptural Anders pulling splinter from his foot (2004) is as its called but leaves the viewer lost in the routine.

The photographs in this show often have a painterly quality and through bending and manipulating in pieces such as Lighter, blue concave I (2008) they become visions of textured, bright minimalism.

His work at the Venice biennale last year was magnificent but cluttered and heavy. In this exhibition he has produced a meditative and joyous show, one of the most exciting of this year so far.

Helen Nisbet.

"Anders pilling a splinter from his foot"

"Roy"

"lighter blue concave"

“CHELSEA BOY” BY SCOTT RAMSAY KYLE

In the spirit of  “do it because you can” a phrase we like to use liberally in Slashstroke and in specific for a feature on Scott Ramsay Kyle in issue 2, (highlighting a path he and his work had set out on to explore the instincts of his mind and craft), we were delighted with his recent update on new work. Following on from his desire to document process Scott has send us in a new work called “Chelsea Boy”, a mini film with tightly cropped footage of nimble hands, hunched torso and sparkling beads and old sweater all sped up and set to a jumbling Moroccan drum beat creating a fast and frenetic tweaking of thread, fingers and embellishment.  “Chelsea boy” offers a  charming look at work in process combining crass branding and delicate technique , humour and lightness with the ordeal of repetition. Scott is a feverish twitterer with penchant for populist tat and high art, what a relief indeed, the ethereal mixed with the trash, pumped up craft.
Scott explains: “its a Chelsea football top with COLE appliqued on and TWEEDY underneath it as though’ Cheryl has reclaimed her maiden name…girl power et al.” Of course that’s what it is and surely the world needs someone to emblazon that message on fabric.

More to come from Scott in Issue 3 “2ND SKIN” so keep a look out.

http://ramsaykyle.com/
Assited by Deniz Unal.

‘A Talk’: Sarah Lucas, Andreas Reiter Raabe and Franz West

Royal Institution, London, 21st June 2010

FRANS WEST
SARAH LUCAS  Photo Julian Simmons, 2010. Image: Sadie Coles HQ, London

When we arrived at the elegant Royal Institution and entered the
lecture theatre with its hot pink tiered seating, artists Sarah Lucas,
Andreas Reiter Raabe and Franz West’s discussion was already in
mid-flow. Similarly the advertised “musical interventions” by Phillip
Quehenberger had begun. Drinking beer, grinning, and murmuring into
their microphones, the artists were often eclipsed by Quehenberger’s
keyboard sounds and growling electronic bass. Quehenberger, for the
most part silent and serious in his black vest and chain, carefully
produced music that has previously been called “electro-pop music for
test tube babies, a giant ‘f*** you’ to the Hoxtonites proclaiming the
hipster draw of ‘electro-house’, it’s mean, dirty and sometimes
horrible, but it was always meant to be that way, wasn’t
it?”(Boomkat). In some ways this description is apt for the way in
which many received tonight’s “talk” which took the anticipated format
and threw it back into the crowd. Much to the delight of many
(beautiful young art folk resembling the cast of Glee dragged via art
school into brogues, gingham and messy hair) who proclaimed the
evening “marvellous” and “mental!”, but much to the disgust of others
– two of whom were women in scarves and pearls who told me in the
Ladies’ afterwards that they considered the evening an “insult to
their intellect”.
Through the flow of Quehenberger’s music (at one point we seemed to
slip into an Orb song with Sarah Lucas’ words “penetrating”, “realer
and realer” and “sense of what they might be” floating through the
beats) the three artists covered varied territory, and though
individually their points were not particularly insightful, the parts
did eventually result in an interesting whole. Looking not unlike a
Madhatter’s Tea Party, the trio covered the abstract in music as
similar to the visual (Delacroix-style music as the most abstract
form), the subconscious, the role of music and colour, the artist’s
hand (Lucas: “ I make the eggs the best”), a love of pink and its
ability to improve in the countryside where it contrasts well with
green (a rural rather than urban pink), dentists as sculptors and the
use of furniture within Lucas and West’s work. The latter provoked
West’s initial interest in Lucas who began using furniture as a
substitute for the human body in the 1990s. Lucas has continued to
appropriate everyday materials to make works that use humour, visual
puns and sexual metaphor to discuss wider issues such as death,
Englishness and gender. The evening’s talk was filled with just such
humour and discussion. West spent the majority of the time requesting
the music was louder, more melancholy, sweeter. Maintaining a
whimsical smile for much of the time, his bright red socks popped like
one of his colourful sculptures or worn abstract objects. Reiter
Raabe’s questions vaguely held the conversation together – to take
this “talk = art” metaphor to its end, he compiled their words into a
loose linear narrative, posing conceptual questions in the same way as
he explores wider meaning in his photography.
The evening reached a climax of mixed pleasure, frustration and
confusion when Lucas walked out saying “I’m going for a wee” which
resulted in many people leaving. West shrugged and said to the
audience “money back again”. I suddenly felt I was part of a morphing
Stoppard Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. When Lucas returned
questions were invited from the floor – to which a young man asked
what was going on. He had come for a talk, he had come to an
institution, he expected information, and he expected a structure. The
artists asked him what he wanted to know and they would tell him. The
starry crowd tangibly divided between those sneering at his lack of
comprehension and those nodding vehemently at his right to ask the
question they were too afraid to ask. Perhaps he exposed an Emperor’s
New Clothes element to the proceeding, but also in questioning the
activity he created a Brechtian sense of performance, a commentator
exposing the process of the event, clarifying the deterioration of the
4th (in this case even 3rd, 2nd and 1st?) wall. The frustration of
many seemed contradictory for a crowd so willing to accept anything
within the boundaries of the artists’ decision and yet they rejected
this member of the audience for demanding to become a part of an
apparently boundless event/experience through his question. However,
ultimately this need for formal structure resulted in his missing out
on the pleasure of the ‘in progress/in process’ flowing nature of the
event.
Despite the mixed responses, one thing was certain – the audience
positively buzzed as it left, whether in humour, joy, or anger. Before
the night closed, West had offered a definition of the aim of the
evening: a “loading of energy”. This description was certainly true
for me.
REBECCA BELL

Yinka Shonibare Nelson’s Ship in a Bottle

Yinka Shonibare Nelson's Ship in a Bottle

Fourth Plinth, Trafalgar Square,May 25th 2010

Yesterday the latest commission for the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square was unveiled: Nelson’s Ship in a Bottle, by leading Anglo-Nigerian artist Yinka Shonibare.

The artwork is the first commission on the Fourth Plinth to address the historical symbolism of Trafalgar Square and Nelson’s column. Within a beautiful shell of thick glass the ship’s 37 large sails are made of richly patterned textiles commonly associated with African dress and symbolic of African identity and independence. According to the Fourth Plinth commissioners, the history of the fabric reveals that they were inspired by Indonesian batik design, mass produced by the Dutch and sold to the colonies in West Africa. The work therefore deals with the complexity of British expansion in trade and Empire, made possible through the freedom of the seas that Nelson’s victory provided.

To celebrate its arrival a launch party was held at the Trafalgar Hilton, where a crowd gathered in the London heat, their make-up melting and delicate dresses sticking to their backs, to raise glasses to Shonibare’s artwork. Further to its historical symbolism, Shonibare’s work became a platform for expressing fear for the precarious position of public art funding. On a day when, only a few hundred metres down the road, the coalition government announced more than £6bn of immediate spending cuts, an artwork jointly funded by the Arts Council England, a bank (Guaranty Trust Bank) and the Mayor of London acquired greater political significance. Moira Sinclair (Executive Director of Arts Council England) caused the guests to hoot and cheer in response to her rousing speech emphasising the importance of funding public art. Similarly the CEO of Guaranty Trust Bank praised the role of art within corporate funding policies.

In his speech at the launch Shonibare stated that the work reflects the story of multiculturalism in London. It is also an object of wonder, recalling a childhood fascination with the apparent miracle of design that is a ship in a bottle. The idea that the ship is trapped, forever bound in its tiny ocean around which the bottle appears to have grown, is much more exciting than the technical reality of strings and flat-packed ships. Walking home across Trafalgar Square in the lowering heat we stopped to look up at the glowing bottle, translucent and beautiful with lights shining up through the sails, a bright moon in the sky beyond, and it was very apparent that as well as creating an intellectually interesting work Shonibare has successfully instated the sense of mystery associated with a ship in a bottle. Shonibare’s fourth plinth contribution is a strong public artwork that will hopefully carry this excellent commissioning site through any stormy seas that may be on the horizon.

Rebecca Bell

RUSSELL RISING

Photo from video for "Lucifer rising"

Photo from video for "Lucifer rising" by RoryDCS.

Midway is the new ending, why bother finishing if the process getting there says all you need to say. With a back ground in fashion and magazine editing Russell Dean Stone has brought that ability to cross reference laterally to a new level, his unabashed love affair of a kind of retro new age psychedelic tortured romance is played out for all its worth through a series of torch songs embracing his Depeche mode/Morrissey influences. The energy and zeal with which Russell approaches his music making is played out through his myspace and Facebook, uploading demos and work in progress, tantalising glimpses from videos and shoots, more than just another blog by blog of everything you never wanted to know about me affair this documentation serves as insight into a generous spirit of mind and instinct. Russell is delighted to have the chance to do what he does, relishing his references in a slightly dark kitsch synthesiser way, inviting and seeking collaborators to pursue as visceral a translation as possible of his ideas.
A gig planned for Wed night at  Underbelly, Hoxton Square,  will no doubt be discovery of whether all that can be translated to the crowd, what I hope is its not stripped backed, its needs the projectors, the lights, the costumes and of course Russell, you want to see if it all works, because you wont see it again, next time it will have shifted and moved on to explore or include more, its a work in progress based on pure joy, a familiar sound with an unfamiliar perverse twist, that is what will hopefully translate.

Image by www.rorydcs.com

ISSUE 2 IS NOW OUTSIDE

ISSUE  2 GOES LIVE AT LAST, “THE INSIDE OUT ISSUE” , HOORAY.

TRACEY EMIN, MAT COLLISHAW AND PAULA REGO GROUP SHOW AT THE FOUNDLING MUSEUM.

Life mimic’s art

I’ve been working on the latest show at the Foundling Museum that will bring together works by Mat Collishaw, Tracey Emin and Paula Rego for the first time . The contribution the artists have offered up are a combination of new and pre-existing works in a variety of media that correspond to the themes of the Foundling; childhood, motherhood and abandonment. In Tracey’s case, one of her offerings was to recast some items from the series of bronzes that she had created for the Folkstone Tiennial in 2008 called “Baby Things”. These inconspicuous, lifelike pieces appear as if dropped by a child or its mother in a rush, such as a crumpled pink sock on a step or a little teddy bear under a park bench. The key item in this series was a pink mitten; apparently dropped, seen by a stranger and perched on a railing in the hope its owner would reclaim it on passing and reunite the pair.

It was after the Volunteers’ Christmas Party at the Museum, I joined the hard core stragglers for a last drink in the pub round the corner. As we walked along Judd Street, just before Handel Street (named after one of the Foundling Hospital’s famous governors) I spotted a child’s pink mitten on the railing, identical to the mitten I recognised from the photograph of the bronze in Folkstone. I couldn’t believe it! The next time I saw Tracey I told her the tale and showed her the photos on my mobile. She was fascinated and asked if I had kept it. I guiltily admitted that I hadn’t because I didn’t want to disturb it and hoped it would be found. She agreed this was exactly the reaction she hoped people would have to her work. The original mitten she’d based the work on was found in Glasgow, another personal link for me as Glasgow is my spiritual home. The found mitten near Handel Street disappeared from the railing fairly shortly after my discovery but the bronze mitten can be seen outside the Foundling Museum and has been given by Tracey Emin as a permanent installation.

It has been a mighty adventure in a relatively short period of time but the exhibition is now ready to unleash on the public.  I’m enormously proud to have been part of this project, particularly as I leave the Foundling this week for a new job in a bigger museum. This personal story of the mitten is the conclusion to an article I have been working on for issue 2 of Slashstroke Magazine. The exhibition will be open on Wednesday 27 January until 9 May at the Foundling Museum, 40 Brunswick Square, London, WC1N 1AZ. Nearest tube station, Russell Square. www.foundlingmuseum.org.uk

Words: Olivia Rickman

Found mitten placed on raling outside the Foundling Museum.

Found mitten placed on raling outside the Foundling Museum.

Mat Collishaw's work arrives at the Foundling Museum.

Mat Collishaw's work arrives at the Foundling Museum.Image by Philip Pelka.

NAT FINKELSTEIN AT THE IDEA GENERATION GALLERY.

NAT FINKELSTEIN : From One Extreme To the Other
20th Jan – 14th Feb

Wednesday night saw the private view of photographer Nat Finkelstein’s retrospective at the Idea Generation Gallery in Shoreditch.
Although Nat Finkelstein is hailed as one of the most respective photojournalists of modern times, he will mostly be recognised for the images he took during the two years of his life which he spent documenting the goings on in Andy Warhol’s Factory.  I also saw this notion reflected in the set up of the exhibition: the main focus being on the iconic images of Edie Sedgwick, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Bob Dylan, Nico, the Velvet Undergound and other familiar Factory faces. The whole on the night was being supported by the lazy tones of Lou Reed singing about ’shiny shiny, shiny boots of leather’.
Besides being a prolific photographer Nat also dedicated a lot of his time writing down his memoirs. His thoughts and recollections support the images on the wall and they paint an even more vivid picture of the time, it hints at a fraught relationship with Andy Warhol and his social commentary shines through even more than the pictures do.
I would have loved to see more of the life Finkelstein led as political activist (his association with The Black Panthers saw him exiled from America) or his explorations of social extremes. These images seem a little bit sidelined in favour of the ‘crowd pleasers’. But thinking this, upon leaving the gallery my glance was suddeny caught by an intimate black and white picture near the exit of Andy sitting next to Edie, looking straight into the lens. To me it is a raw portrayal of fragility which suddenly made me feel sad. In Finkelstein’s own words:
“When all is said and done, when everything is gone, the photograph is what’s going to remain. The photographer is the producer of history.”
And this exhibition provides a unique glance into an era of extremes, with some cutting insight, yet gentle intimacy leaving the viewer with a slight sensation of having been an eye witness.

Words: Meg Van Heck

Nat Finkelstein's  Andy and Edie.

Nat Finkelstein's Andy and Edie.

Marianne Faithful contact sheet by Nat Finkelstein.

Nico by Nat Finkelstein.

Nat Finkelstein.

Nat Finkelstein.