GLAMOUR NANA

My nana, Evelyn Spencer, is a very practical woman. She grew up on a farm in Queensland, Australia, has volunteered for Meals On Wheels for longer than anyone in our family can remember, and counts gardening, cooking, and country music amongst her interests. Who better to review the FW12 collections shown at London Fashion Week? I showed her a look from eleven designers’ presentations and asked her to share her thoughts on them. Move over Tim Blanks — there’s a new sheriff at the fashion police department, and she’s not changing her slacks for no one.

On Christpher Kane: “That. Is. Nice. It’s beautiful — very stylish. Is it see-through? I thought it was very stylish before I realized it might be see-through. You’d have to wear a nice pair of knickers with it, wouldn’t you? Well, I guess that depends on what sort of a place you’re wearing it. I’d like to see the real thing before I pass judgment. It’s a lovely colour, and a lovely design, though.”

Read the rest on Oystermag.com

CHRYSTA BELL + DAZED & CONFUSED

I interviewed the super beautiful, super talented Chrysta Bell for Dazed & Confused's March issue — as recommended by David Lynch!!! I also did a short email interview for Dazed Digital. 

Hollywood enigma David Lynch: “Chrysta Bell looks like a dream and Chrysta Bell sings like a dream. And the dream is coming true.”

It’s not surprising that soulful Texan chanteuse Chrysta Bell looks like the ultimate Lynchian femme fatale – the smouldering red haired songstress has been working with the legendary director for almost fourteen years on her debut album, This Train.

“Looking back, I’m glad that the recording process took so long, even though it was frustrating at times,” she muses. “David fancies people that have life experience, and I think he knew that I needed to grow up so that I was able to really emote and give myself to the music.”

Lucky for Lynch then that Chrysta Bell’s lived such a colorful life. Following a three year stint in Austin-based nineties “continental gypsy cabaret” band 8 ½ Souvenirs, Chrysta Bell has married, divorced, experienced step-motherhood, and travelled the world with a genre-spanning plethora of bands. She even inherited a “natural burial cemetery” from her eccentric, entrepreneurial, hot air balloon-flying father, whose premature passing saw him become her first ‘customer’.

Since meeting, Lynch and Chrysta Bell have come together every couple of years for intensely concentrated recording sessions, where the director would play backing tracks and present the singer with lyrics he’d pulled from the “treasure trove of notes” in his home office.

“That was pretty much the formula for all the music on the record,” she explains. “He had a vision for every piece before I got there, and he was able to massage whatever it was that I was going through that day into what he envisioned. We eventually developed this kind of telepathic…” She trails off.

Understandably, Lynch’s Texan muse can barely contain her excitement about the long-awaited release of This Train — to the point where she often mouths words between bouts of giggles during our interview, physically unable to speak. So when does the transformation to her lusty Jessica Rabbit-meets-Julee Cruise stage persona take place? “The night time is the right time,” she purrs. Bring on the darkness.

RECENT LOVE BITES

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Read 'em & more on thelovemagazine.co.uk

UNIQUE + BURBERRY AW12 REVIEWS

The Topshop Unique show is a big deal at LFW. Everybody shows up. Last season, I was almost knocked onto the road by Naomi Campbell’s entourage, and then I got to interview the amazing(ly thin) Anna Dello Russo. This year, the Slightly Less Very Important People (of which I was one) were relegated to a balcony overlooking the Slightly More Very Important People, and since so many people had squeezed themselves up against the railing, I had trouble doing my usual star scan. By the time I’d found a shorty to peer over, the show was kicking off.

For FW12, the Unique design team – helmed by Vogue UK’s Fashion Director Kate Phelan – really upped the ante. Structured military-inspired jackets were juxtaposed with over-sized shirts and slouchy jumpers, pants and dresses, which if I were a girl would be pretty much everything I’d want to wear (I’m probz going to buy the khaki coat from Look 1 anyway). The blend of muted colours like khaki, grey, and burgundy made the collection super wearable, whilst splashes of burnt orange, lemon and bright red kept it from feeling dreary.

At first, I was a little baffled by their decision to send out shimmery party dresses at the end, but as the models marched out for the finale, I got to thinking that maybe it was better that they’d thrown a curveball and finished on a fun note. Speaking of fun, here’s hoping velour jumpsuits are trending (my housemate and I have animal print onesies that we wear when we’re playing Wii, but I feel like the chic, black, velvety jumpsuit that Unique sent down the runway would give me the confidence boost I need to finally rule the Mario Kart raceway).

Burberry Prorsum’s AW12 presentation was certainly a highlight this LFW. The title of the collection is ‘Town and Field’ so there was a curious mix of garments that ranged from shimmery-fringed cocktail dresses to warm, comfy corduroy jackets. The common thread in this, and every other recent Burberry collection, is that each piece simultaneously elicits memories of bygone eras whilst retaining modernity — interesting cuts and unexpected fabric choices made the old feel new.

Christopher Bailey had fun with this collection — it was evident in the details. Think studded leather gloves, bags with gilded animal’s heads for clasps, puffy pockets on pencil skirts, elasticized bow belts that cinched over-size jackets, diagonal zipper-lined ruffles, striped umbrellas and sparkly animal-shaped appliqués. Whilst that level of eclecticism could have looked directionless, Bailey somehow pulled it all together succinctly, which is testament to what a clever dude he is. Viewed separately, the garments and accessories might seem like pieces to different puzzles, though together, they all worked in a kind of super-chic, thrown together, Helena Bonham Carter way. For the finale, the music stopped and fake thunder echoed through the greenhouse-like venue — literally shaking us in our seats. Then, as the models marched out beneath those wonderful striped umbrellas (I really want one BTW), water streamed down the sides of the see-through structure whilst metallic confetti rained down on the crowd.

Whilst such showmanship could have effectively distracted editors from a less-than-lustrous collection, it didn’t need to. As I felt my way through the expansive showroom beneath Burberry Head Quarters in London today, it was hard not to be impressed by the attention-to-detail in each and every piece (and it’s hard not to be impressed by the fact that their clothes managed to impress me after four days of serious fashion overload).

www.oystermag.com

DION LEE — HARPER'S

I wrote a quick post for Harper's Bazaar Australia on Dion Lee's AW12 presentation at LFW. You can read it here.

MY INTERVIEW WITH JAMIE HEWLETT

For Monster Children's 33rd issue, I caught up with Jamie Hewlett of Gorillaz. Here's the interview!

ZB: Hey Jamie! How are you?
JH: Hi Zac. I’m good!

How’s everything going today?
Good. Are you calling from london?

Yeah. Where are you?
Where am I? I’m in Paris.

You know, every Londoner I’ve interviewed since getting here has been in Paris or New York.
[He laughs] They’re all escaping.

Maybe I came to the wrong country. Hey, tell me if I’m shouting because I’ve got you on speakerphone.
You shout away!

So, every interview with you that I’ve read has mentioned you rolling a cigarette.
Yes. Earlier in the conversation I was rolling a cigarette, and now I’m smoking it.

You must be able to afford pre-rolled cigarettes now.
No way! That would take the fun out of having a cigarette if it was pre-rolled. I like to roll my own cigarettes in liquorice Rizla papers.

Do you?
Yep. They’re my favourite. I use a very, very slim filter, because I’ve been smoking for a long, long time and my lungs aren’t what they used to be, so I need to find a slightly healthier way of smoking. Rolling your own is good because it doesn’t have as many chemicals, but… I’m a terrible smoker. I just can’t stop. I love smoking. It’s one of my favourite things!

I’m smoking liquorice Rizla right now too.
Are you really?

Yep. Have you tried coconut tobacco?
I have, but it gives me a sore throat after about thirty cigarettes. I’ve tried the vanilla papers and the
cherry tobacco too. I think I’ve tried everything, but at the end of the day, most of these things just give me a sore throat. I stick to my Golden Virginia and my liquorice papers, and I’m happy.

Holy shit — I’m smoking Golden Virginia right now.
Oh my god!

We’re like twins, Jamie. Did we just become best friends?
[He laughs loudly] Possibly. Did you get the images that I sent through for the feature?

Yeah. They’re great!
Thank you.

I think my favourite is the one called ‘Pinky’.
Your favourite’s ‘Pinky’?! [He laughs] Most of that artwork hasn’t been seen anywhere else. I thought I should include some things from my sketchbook, so, uh… yeah. I like ‘Pinky’ too. They’re mostly bits and pieces of projects that never got off the ground, or they were at the brain-storming stage, where you have an idea, and you do some drawings, but then you realize that nobody’s going to give you any money, so then you scribble something else and…

So, there’s not going to be a ‘Pinky’ movie?
Unfortunately not. my youngest son likes to draw, so we do drawing sessions together, and that’s when
‘Pinky’ was born. We just sit around on a Sunday and draw all day. I borrowed a very bright pink felt tip pen from him, which was very nice to draw with.

Did you draw from a young age?
Of course.

When I was in preschool, I was banned from drawing at lunchtime, because I wasn’t socializing with the other kids. Did anything like that ever happen to you?
Being banned from drawing? Geez — that’s terrible! That never happened to me. you know, when I
was in school, I wasn’t really the popular kid at all. In fact, I was very short and very pale. I looked a bit like a Dickensian child, but the fact that I could draw made me popular! All of the bullies would come up to me and say, “Draw a picture of us. Draw a picture of me and my girlfriend.” And that sort of made me… Not hugely popular, but it stopped them bullying me.

Did you fill all your schoolbooks with drawings? 
Yeah. unfortunately I didn’t really pay attention to anything in school; I was just drawing. I think I figured out pretty early on that what a teacher thinks is: “Why am I fucking standing here if you’re not paying attention?” So I thought that if I looked like I was paying attention that I was gonna get
a good report, but it didn’t work, obviously, because I wasn’t remembering anything. I left school
with an o-level in art, and that was about it really.

I was looking at the Ghost of Gone Birds exhibition that you are a part of, and I was going to ask you whether you were into biology in school, but I think you’ve answered my question.
No, not particularly. I’ll tell you what though, my biology teacher was a very beautiful young woman who always used to dress quite provocatively.

She sounds way different from my biology teacher.
[He laughs] So she’d have leopard skin on, and she was tall and blonde and very beautiful, so I was
distracted by that. I think I was good at history, because my history teacher was a really interesting
character who used to tell us about the dark side of history, and used to tell us about all the diseases that Henry the Eighth had, and then about the different kings who suffered from diarrhoea and… That
was interesting to me! I had a couple of teachers who were interesting, but the rest of them were just
fucking boring, you know? My attention span is quite short, and I still suffer from this today, when
people are talking to me. I’m usually thinking about something else.

Yeah, I’m the same… I remember bits and pieces of the conversation later on.
I do too, but it depends… It’s not the same with everybody, but when I meet someone for the first time face to face, I’m not too comfortable. I realize that they’re looking at me as I’m talking, and I’m looking at them as they’re talking to me, and my mind tends to wander a little bit. And often I have to explain these situations because when they’ve finished talking I don’t know how to reply, because I don’t remember what they were talking about!

So, are you or your kids into the whole vampire thing?
Um…. my kids are definitely into horror films, but I think they’re more into zombies. they obviously got that from me, because I have a slight obsession with the zombie genre.

What do you love about it?
I don’t know… I’ve said this before many times in interviews, but I watched Dawn of the Dead when I
was eleven years old and it really scared the shit out of me. I was really quite disturbed by this idea
of people who are dead but they looked just a bit blue in the face, and they moved slowly, but then
when they finally caught up with you they were going to kill you. I found that really creepy. you know,
in the modern day zombie films they’re all like, “Haaaaargh,” and they’ve all got shit on their face,
and they’re slightly over the top, and it doesn’t really resonate with me. I’m a big fan of the old
seventies, blue-faced guy with an afro walking across the road slowly. That still scares me. It
scares the shit out of me.

Do you think you like zombies because when they catch up with you, you don’t have to carry a conversation with them?
[He laughs] Could be! I remember when I showed Dawn of the Dead to my oldest boy, he was probably the same age as me when I saw it, and I said to him, “It’s really scary stuff,” but he was like, “I’m bored, Dad.” I said, “No — it’s really scary!” And then I realized that he was watching things like The Human Centipede and The Grudge. He’d seen all this stuff, and he wasn’t really bothered by it.


How old was he when he saw The Human Centipede?!
He watched that when he was thirteen, I think? But you know, both of my kids are very savvy on the
computer. They’re always on the Internet, so I knooow that they’ve already seen pretty graphic stuff. All the kids at school talk about it and they all share this stuff, and it doesn’t seem to affect him in any
way. He’s just kind of not really bothered by this sort of imagery. So I accept that it’s a different generation that are kind of a bit tougher.

Jamie’s Agent: 5 minutes guys!

Shit. We’ve just been chatting.
You better start this interview then!

Alright Jamie. Time for the hard-hitting questions.
I’m ready for you.

Favourite colour?
Black.

That’s not a colour!
Maybe I wasn’t ready for you.

What are you working with at the moment?
Well, at the moment, I’m getting back to my roots. I’m working with water colours and gouache and
pencil and… I’ve spent ten years doing all this Gorillaz stuff, but I’ve had to draw the artwork then cover it using a computer, because it had to go to print and the turn around is really quick, you know? I’m kind of sick of all that, really. so, I’m teaching myself to paint with oils, which is a whole other world, and I’m doing a lot of reeeally shit paintings, but I’m getting better. It’s a process. I’m going to try and get it to a point where I can have an exhibition.

You should give Monster Children a scare by sending them your shittiest oil painting for the cover.
[He laughs] Yeah, I’d like that. “I’ve changed my mind! I have a new idea for the cover — it’s going to be a shitty painting of some flowers!”

Yeah! “Campbell, I’m thinking stick figures.”
Yeah, well, it’s not far off that! I’m definitely getting better, but I’m not in any hurry, so it’s nice.

So, it must have been weird for you going from being completely under-the-radar to being in the spotlight with the Gorillaz… How’d you cope with that?
I didn’t have to really. Luckily, the average person walking down the street who loves the Gorillaz doesn’t even know that I’m involved, and I have quite a forgettable face, so I can go to the shop and get my Golden Virginia and liquorice Rizla papers and nobody knows who the fuck I am… So I’ve coped with it perfectly well.

Are you a moody, miserable, lone-wolf type artist?
Well, I’m happiest when I’m just doing what I do, which is when I’m in my own world and drawing, but obviously, you know, I’m capable of dealing with the outside world. I don’t need anyone to take care of me or anything! 

How do you remember everything that happens in the Gorillaz storyline? Are you a stickler for
detail? Are there anachronisms in the plot?
Well, if anybody could be bothered to backtrack through all three albums and all the web stories, they
do actually all make sense.

All of it flows perfectly?
Yes, yes, of course. I spend a lot of time with Cass Browne creating these backgrounds that we base what’s happening on. So, I’m not a stickler for detail, but it does actually make sense. It depends on what kind of Gorillaz fan you are: someone who’s heard a couple of tunes on the radio or somebody whose followed the whole storyline, immersed themselves in that world and become part of it. If there’s something that we forget or that’s incorrect, those guys notice! We try to make sure everything makes sense.

Do people email you and point out mistakes?
Yes. Of course! [He puts on a really whiney voice] “I noticed in panel 14, page 27, that the earring went from his left ear to his right ear.” And my answer to that is, “Fuck off.” It’s usually really stupid things that don’t matter in the great scheme of things, but you know, I love all of our fans. They’re great, and they so enjoy it, but some of them pay so much attention that if you do something that they don’t agree with, they get really, really pissed off about it.

Do you find that hard?
Well, I don’t find it hard, so long as they don’t know where I live! As long as I don’t open my curtains
one day and there’s some crazed looking guy in an anorak standing across the street in the rain!

Should I cut your studio address from my intro?
Yeah. Could you please? [He laughs] I did go to work once when I had a studio in Shepard’s Bush, and I walked up to the door of the studio, and there was this girl standing there, and I sort of said, “Can I help you?” She had this look in her eye, and she said, “Are you J-J-Jamie?” and I said, “Yeeah?” She’d apparently come all the way from some other country to meet me, so I very kindly invited her
in for a cup of tea and talked about my work for a little bit. She had this look in her eye though, and
eventually I had to say, “Look, it’s very nice that you popped by, but I have to get on with my work now.” I said ‘goodbye’, but that girl… That girl had me worried.

That could have been really sweet or really creepy.
Yeeeah. Shit — I’ve gotta go soon. Let’s do one more question though.

What’s been the highlight of your career so far?
The highlight?

THE highlight. You only get one!
Oh god…

Besides this interview.
Now I’ve gotta think about it! Erm… Apart from this wooonderful interview, the highlight has been…
God. Fuck. There’ve been a lot of great things happening over the last few years. I think we’re lucky, you know? When I started out, my dream was to draw comic books, and I did that pretty quickly, and then moved on to greener pastures when the comic industry kind of dried up. So I’ve been very lucky to be involved in the kinds of things I have been, and to work with the people I’ve worked with, from various musicians to artists and actors. so, it’s all been a highlight really. It’s all been good. I couldn’t really pick one moment.

Thanks so much for the interview Jamie! They’re normally not as fun as this.
I know! They aren’t for me either! I enjoyed that very much.

We’re best friends now, right?
[He laughs]

You’re gonna call, right?
…

Ok — bye Jamie!
Bye zac. It was lovely talking to you!

www.monsterchildren.com

ANTON CORBIJN — MONSTER CHILDREN #33

It doesn’t matter how long you’ve lived in a big city; it’s still fun to look up and pretend all the buildings are giant severed robot penises, to quote Liz Lemon. I couldn’t find my way into The Hempel Hotel — a big, old, white chode of a building in West London — without explicit verbal instructions from my soon-to-be interviewee, Anton Corbijn, over the phone. Even with his concise directions, I found myself exasperatedly knocking at a window through which snooty middle-aged fat cats eating breakfasts the size of baby fists watched me like a goldfish trapped in a bowl, a musty service door kind-of beneath and in front of the hotel, and finally a fake front-door that seems to have been designed to keep people like me out.

Anton Corbijn came out of the elevator to find me sitting on a couch sunken into the floor of the expansive hotel lobby, about half an hour after we were due to meet. He’s a tall, softly spoken Dutch fellow with a welcoming smile, tired blue eyes and an accent largely unaffected by years of travelling the world. “I like staying here,” he told me after we’d taken a seat in tall armchairs as soft as a baby’s fontanel. “When I moved here in 1979, I lived in a basement across the road on this street. 32 years ago, this area was quite a different story. It was even this time of year that I arrived — late October. When that smell comes in during autumn, it brings me back to that time. Sometimes I find it depressing; it reminds me of the no-hope situation that I was in.”

At the age of 22, Corbijn had moved to the big smoke from a sheltered existence in Holland — he’d actually spent the first eleven years of his life in a conservative, religious village on an island off the coast of his home country. In his late teens or early twenties, he worked at a factory to save up for a camera, and then began snapping pictures of international artists touring locally for Dutch magazines and newspapers, dreaming of becoming a part of the world they’d come from. Compared to the local musicians and photographers, for whom their creative work was more of a hobby than a career, the touring young artists were all or nothing, do or die, and the inherent excitement in that way of living was what inspired him to keep snapping. “I don’t think the scene in Holland inspired me, but I was very inspired by the London scene,” he explained. “There was just something about the music scene here that I wanted to see in my photography. I felt my best pictures were always taken when I went for a little trip to England or when some English musicians visited. I definitely didn’t think I was capable of all this when I was young.”

By “all this” he means the kind of career that any kid (or adult) with band posters plastered all over their bedroom walls would murder their own mother for. He’s shot iconic portraits of artists like Ian Curtis, Bono, David Bowie and Morrissey, directed video clips for the likes of Nirvana, U2, Echo & The Bunnymen, Joy Division and Depeche Mode, and, most recently, directed feature films with stars like George Clooney. Back then, he was just happy to be in London, living in the basement of some ramshackle dwelling. And as much as he loved meeting new artists in the scene, he admits that he never really became part of it, favoring hard work and honing his skills over partying and trying to meet the right people.

“I worked,” he told me with a shrug. “I mean, there are definitely people in the music business that are very ambitious and have succeeded and lasted, but there are a few important elements that make you successful: talent, discipline, and luck. You have to have all three. You have to recognize luck and use it, and I was incredibly disciplined.”

So, how did luck come into it in his case? “Well, you know, in retrospect, going to England, it was the perfect timing,” he replied. “I did it on a gut feeling that I wanted to be there. When you meet a musician, you can’t tell how important they’re going to be. If Joy Division had of continued, who knows?”

Unlike other up-and-coming photographers emulating the work of Helmut Newton, Robert Frank and the like, Corbijn simply enjoyed taking photos, and that was it. He was totally untrained in his field, and, like any self-respecting European, loved to experiment, getting a kick out of shooting on film and seeing how the pictures turned out. “There’s an adventurous element. Shooting on film and not knowing the result is part of that. I love this idea of the lonely man who goes out and meets people, then comes back, and sees the results of that meeting. I think there’s this kind of weird romanticism about spending your days like that.”

Corbijn decided against use a flash or a tripod when shooting his portraits — he claims that he’s never been good with the technical stuff — and because of that he developed an instantly recognizable style early on. “Your handicap is your strongest asset,” he explained. “I made it work for myself, and then somehow that becomes how you take pictures, which is different to a lot of people. I mean, you always strive for the perfect thing, but then life gets in the way, if you like. A lot of my better pictures have slight imperfections... I look back at the old pictures, and I made so many mistakes.”

His biggest one nearly cost U2 their Joshua Tree cover, but I don’t think he ever told anyone, so Monster Children readers might be the first to find this out. Yay! “I don’t think I ever told U2 this, but I shot many films when I did Joshua Tree in ‘86, because it was three days of traveling and shooting,” he explained. “Just before Christmas, I’d been asked to shoot a businessman for a Dutch newspaper. I only used one film, and the next day he needed to go to Hong Kong, and by the time I developed that film, there was this businessman sitting in an office with the Joshua tree sticking out of his head! I had used the film from the U2 shoot for the photo of him! I couldn’t shoot him again, so I had to crop that picture and pretend it was a reflection from a window or something, but I knew exactly that it was a Joshua tree.”

The interesting thing is that despite being credited as the creative director behind U2’s visual output over the past decade (on Wikipedia, anyway), Corbijn was verbally banned from working with them in the eighties. Thankfully, Bono remained a fan of his work, and approached him again some years later. “I remember, a year after I’d done my first music video — I was still not so easy in that medium —I tried to make a really advanced video for U2, and their manager said, “Anton Corbijn is never going to get close to you anymore with a camera.” It was an over-reaction because it was not expensive. You know, it was a learning curve. I was just starting out. So then I was asked in ‘92 by Bono to do the ‘One’ video, eight years later. I was very happy with it, because it was an amazing song, and then the video was turned down. I’d put so much into that, so it was a difficult moment. Months later they started to use it. You have to separate your friendship with people from the work that you’re doing, because it’s not always suitable.”

As I discovered, Corbijn is a consummate professional. He wouldn’t even gossip about Kurt Cobain with me, but he did share a quick story from when they worked on the film clip for ‘Heart-Shaped Box’ together. “Kurt Cobain was really sweet,” he began, after explaining how careful he is with what he says about the artists he’s worked with. “He was a really nice guy. I spent a few days with him doing the video clip, and because the whole process with the video was so long and drawn out, we had to keep communicating. When I met him the first time, he didn’t say much at all. One really weird thing was that he fell asleep once, when we were on the phone. I was on the other line, and I thought he was not agreeing with what I was saying, but he had fallen asleep!”

Unlike most of the artists Corbijn worked with on video clips, who trusted his vision completely, Cobain had the whole video planned out in his head. “Kurt Cobain was the exception. He had a whole thing worked out. He faxed me ideas. He had drawings. He was meticulous. He was very… I’ve never seen a person who writes music to be that intricate with the vision for the song. It was Kurt’s idea to do the Wizard of Oz kind of landscape. But I made the butterflies fake, and I made the birds fake… Where as he wanted real ones.”

In many of Corbijn’s video clips, there are obvious theatrical elements, like the aforementioned crow-puppets, a King’s costume (Depeche Mode’s ‘Enjoy the Silence’), or a theatrical stage (numerous videos). I can’t help but wonder whether Corbijn was projecting his own awkwardness with being in the spotlight onto those musicians, by taking them away from the musical stage (and all the glory it connotes) and placing them on a theatrical stage. As a shy-but-determined youngster, Corbijn had needed a camera as an excuse to push to the front of the crowd at concerts, and as a director, he’d taken bands like Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds and Echo & The Bunnymen out of their element, asking them to perform in situations reminiscent of high school plays. “The reason that I did theatre stuff was because I was never comfortable with directing a band live, like, playing with instruments,” he explained. “A school theatre play was what I thought was a nice thing because you can still do things with the energy of something that’s live.”

Unfortunately for the music industry, he doesn’t shoot video clips any more, preferring to focus on feature films. In 2007, he directed the Ian Curtis biopic Control, which won numerous awards at the Cannes Film Festival. His next film, 2010’s The American, was perhaps more ambitious in that it took him away from the world of music and into the world of bigger-budget Hollywood films. He even worked with George Clooney, whom he has nothing but high praises for. The spontaneity of shooting portraits had inspired his earlier work, and while directing video clips he’d been forced to work at a frantic pace to meet tight deadlines, so does he find directing feature films — which require far more time, planning and consideration — as stimulating? “What I’m working on now excites me,” he told me. “If you don’t develop, you stop, and I don’t want to do that. You know, there’s a lot more in me than I ever thought there was, and I want to see what else is there.”

I couldn’t help but wonder whether — after years of hard work and dedication that have resulted in a prolific output of work and endless accolades — he is truly happy with the way his life’s panned out. Arranging this interview had taken a lot of work due to Corbijn’s hectic schedule, and when I met up with him, he looked more tired than inspired. If his driving force is working hard and tackling new projects to challenge himself creatively, does he take the time to stop and smell the roses? Towards the end of the interview, I asked whether the untimely deaths of particular artists he had worked with and adored, like Ian Curtis, Kurt Cobain and Herman Brood, had altered his outlook on life, and as you may have guessed, the answer was yes.

“There are a few people that I’ve worked with that I liked very much who died too young,” he told me, as a slick-looking waiter poured him a green tea. “That is something that I find difficult with photography, because I look at old pictures, and a lot of these people are no longer around, and it saddens me looking through them. Having these pictures reminds you so much of them. The thought that they couldn’t find something that could get them through the day… For those reasons, I think that maybe I was in contact with those people because I’m very attracted to artists for whom what they make means everything. I used to think that way — that nothing mattered to me but photography. That’s why I moved into a squat here. The drive to do what I did meant so much to me that it was everything. [There were] no vacations, no personal life. There was an intensity to those people, and an intensity that I felt was corresponding with what I felt in my world. That’s why I was attracted to all of those people. I think that when you’re young, sometimes you don’t see it any other way. It’s dangerous, if that’s the only way you feel… But it’s also exciting. In balance there might be an element of boredom. Nobody goes into the music world to get bored. There’s excitement and now that I’m older it’s different.”

Does he mean that’s he is slowing down now, and if so, how does that feel after thirty years of non-stop work? “It’s really difficult,” he explained. “I think it’s an old protestant thing, this work ethic that I have. I feel guilty when I don’t work. I have to say that I am happiest when I’m on my bicycle these days, and go to the dunes, because I can’t believe that luxury, you know? Just feeling the air; seeing the dunes. It’s maybe because my life was fairly imbalanced before now. I think happiness comes from very simple things basically, and that goes for my work too. When I go and meet a painter and take a few pictures, that is probably what makes me happier than making a film, almost. It’s a simple, very personal achievement. All the other things involve lots of meetings and lots of other people, and you can be very satisfied with things, but… Happiness in a way is good contact, or feeling at one with myself or nature, you know? There’s nothing new about that idea, but I feel that it’s true. A nice morning where you wake up with your girlfriend, see something beautiful like an exhibition — these are the things that make living worthwhile. But in my mind, the protestant element in me says happiness is when you work a lot. So… I do that very often, but smaller things bring me more happiness.”

After our interview, Anton Corbijn had to meet up with a documentary maker with his agent, before heading to the printer on his way to the airport. He had an exhibition coming up Stockholm and a film opening in Germany, and would soon receive Holland’s highest arts honor, the Prince Bernhard Culture Fund award. He was also building a studio near his home in Holland, in case he ever wanted to really slow down.

LOVE #7

Digital & Editorial Intern

VENETIA SCOTT — OYSTER #97

For Oyster #97, I sat down for a cuppa with nineties super-stylist slash Marc Jacobs Creative Director Venetia Scott. 

ANETA BARTOS — LOVE

Image: Kept, 2007 — Aneta Bartos.

New York-based photographer Aneta Bartos and painter Nick Weber create moody, sensual artworks, where subjects are portrayed at their most vulnerable. Last year, the duo were brought together by rare book collector John McWhinnie, who recently passed away under tragic circumstances. Today, they're opening their joint exhibition Jack&Jill in McWhinnie’s honour, at 144 Tenth Ave NYC. We caught up with Bartos to find out more about her work, and how she, Weber, and curator Anne Huntington have banded together to realize McWhinnie's vision.

LOVE: What have you been working on lately?
Aneta: Actually, quite a few things. We’ve been working on the Jack&Jill show since summer.  At the same time I was commissioned by Neville Wakefield to do this art installation for a new restaurant that’s just opened called ACME.  I made a peephole photo rotating device for it, with five of my prints mounted on acrylic disk to be viewed through a door.  I have been also working on a new photo project, Spider Monkeys, and a video project, which remains a secret until spring.

So, how do you pick your subjects?
For my latest show, I’ve been photographing males masturbating, so picking those is very different to picking subjects for projects that are less intimate. For this particular project, it was quite challenging to find the right subjects, and I ended up asking people that I already knew — not necessarily people that I’ve had a sexual relationship with though. For example, I shot my assistant, which was very challenging for him to do it in front of me, and for me too. I would never ask somebody from the street that I didn’t know at all, because this kind of work requires trust and respect.

Right. 
I ran into some quite uncomfortable experiences doing this, because sometimes even though I knew somebody, they’d assume that we would end up having sex afterwards! I ran into all sorts of challenges. I think, generally, guys that don’t know me very well might see my work and assume, “Oh, wow. She’s a really liberal crazy girl. Maybe I’m gonna get some.” It’s really not about that! It’s funny that people would assume that I’m this sexual deviant based on my work.

Totally. I feel that photographing men masturbating is viewed in a completely different way to photographing women masturbating.
Yeah. Definitely. We think we live in such a liberated world, but actually it’s really not. We’re used to only seeing women portrayed in a sexual way, so when people see this kind of photograph, they assume that it was taken by a homosexual, right? In a way, it’s a political statement of power and dominance for me. I think, a lot of people see the hard-on as being the last male mystery, and people get quite uncomfortable when it comes to men showing themselves in a vulnerable position. Men aren’t ready to be exposed in the same way that women are, and society isn’t necessarily ready to see it either.

Right. 
I feel like we’re suddenly moving forward though, and things are changing a lot, don’t you think? I was researching, and I was wondering who’s done a project like this before, and it turns out that women have been photographing or painting men masturbating, but whoever tried to come out with that kind of work was criticized. Basically, they kept all that work hidden and never really showed it. For example, a woman called Aura Rosenbourg photographed guys masturbating, but just their faces. Also, Ariane Lopez-Huici photographed men masturbating and she was denied showing those works in her retrospective in New York. She wanted to include that work and they said, “No.” And that wasn’t very long ago! No woman has been praised for this kind of work.

Are you worried that you’ll be criticized in the same way? 
Not really, because times are changing, I’ve been getting really positive responses. I think the fact that I show the vulnerability of the man has helped — it’s not just a straightforward shot. There’re a lot of different emotions that I’m showing, and even though you see hard-ons, they’re not as vulgar as they could be…. Maybe? I don’t know. I was going to show these photos with Nick Weber for this show, but then I changed my mind and only included two of them. I want that series to be for a solo exhibition.

How did you start working on this exhibition with Nick? 
This is kind of a sad story, because the whole mastermind behind the show was John McWhinnie, who just died. I had an exhibition a year and a half ago, and a friend of mine mentioned that John had been bragging about my work, but I didn’t know who that was. I just thought, “Oh, good. Someone likes my work.” Then another friend of mine mentioned it, and told me that he had a rare bookshop, which sold me on the idea of meeting him. I’m such a visual person, so I love rare things that haven’t been seen by many people. When I met him, he spoke and it was poetry coming out of his mouth. He was describing every one of my images so intimately, and he was dissecting my work, and I was just stunned. It was like he knew exactly what I was thinking. I was so impressed with his critique, and I don’t usually listen to people. With John though, I felt like he was the first person who really connected with my work.

Wow. So what happened next? 
Well, we were always chatting, and we developed this work-relationship, and a few months later he said, “You know, I have this painter that I show, who paints the same subjects that you photograph in moody, sensual, ambient tones. I think if you guys have a show together, it could be a killer.” So, he threw it out there, but then he became more aggressive about it, and he said, “I really think you should meet Nick,” who was having exhibitions in the East Hamptons. So, that was in July; he invited me to the Hamptons, and I came to meet Nick, and I stayed over for the whole weekend. I was like, “I don’t know if I want to have an exhibition with a guy who works with similar subjects,” you know?

What changed your mind? 
I met him, and he was so genuine, and honest about sexuality.  He showed me his vulnerable side, which was so refreshing to see in a man.  That weekend made me feel like we were brother and sister!

Really?
Yeah. It was really intense! Then, we started talking about the show, and John asked Anne Huntington, who I’d worked with before, to curate it and the three of us began working on ideas.  It was only two months ago that we decided what we wanted to show.

How did you come up with the name for the show?
We were brainstorming and Nick came up with ‘Jack and Jill’, which is a nursery rhyme, right? Well, we decided to go with the naughtiest, Freudian interpretation, where two kids are trying to explore and reach a higher power of sexuality. You know — down with shame! In the show, their naughtiness is like holiness, because they’re leaving society behind, and as they approach the summit, man and woman become one. But just like in the tale of Adam and Eve, they fall from grace. Nick and I are like the artistic brother and sister in this show, and we’re trying to provide honesty about sexuality, so that we can empower… You know what? The show’s all about sex! [She laughs]

Text & interview: Zac Bayly

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