HVW8 L.A. is currently showing Fulton Leroy “Mr. Wash’s” Washington’s fundraising exhibition “Bridging the Way” which is helping to fund the building of his new studio and community center in Compton, CA. NBC News reports:
“Fulton Leroy Washington, who goes by Mr. Wash, knows a thing or two about getting a second chance in life even in the midst of hopelessness and isolation.
Before President Barack Obama commuted his sentence in 2016, Mr. Wash was behind bars for more than two decades. While serving a life sentence after being wrongfully convicted of nonviolent drug offenses in the 1970s, he taught himself how to draw and paint.
“I brought eight brushes and a couple of paint tubes and started practicing. And here we are now,” the Compton native recalled.”
“After commissioning his artwork, he was able to purchase his studio in Compton. And he’s now raising money to build a community center on the same lot with the goal of giving second chances to the formerly incarcerated and artists of color. The ex-inmate said the Art by Wash Center will also provide free housing of up to 6 months to those newly released from prison.
“This is my new blank canvass,” Mr. Wash described. “It’s going to have spaces for inmates coming home from prison and teaching art as a way of communication to prevent them from going [back] to prison.”
Mr. Wash also planned to host a fundraising exhibition with other artists of color whom he took under his wings.
The exhibition, which is curated by Mr. Wash himself, runs from Feb. 15 through Mar. 26 at HVW8 Gallery at 661 N. Spaulding Ave. in Los Angeles.”
Former KAWS studio assistant and Supreme designer Eric Elms’ exhibition “ViewSonic” is now showing at HVW8 in Los Angeles.
“ViewSonic” includes paintings from two of Elms’ series, “Halftone” and “Stair.” The LA-based artist uses his experience in graphic design to inform his art. According to the show’s promotional materials, Elms breaks down images, “re-inventing and re-purposing the familiar to the brink of ambiguity,” walking the line “between representation and abstraction.”
“To me, home is any place where you can be creative and make things. I love minimal spaces. The starker the better, when it comes to giving yourself free reign to create. I like a white box.”
LAKISHA KIMBERLY ROBINSON, KNOWN AS “KILO KISH,” AT HVW8 GALLERY LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA / PHOTOGRAPH BY DAVID BLACK FEATURED IN CALIFORNIA SUNDAY ‘THE WAY HOME’ DECEMBER 2018 ISSUE
Wednesday, August 22, HVW8 Gallery and adidas Originals hosted a first look at UNCATEGORIZED, an exhibition of photographs from hip-hop documentarian Chi Modu. The traveling show first opened in Berlin, but has made several global stops since. Still, this week’s Los Angeles preview had special significance for the Nigeria-born, New Jersey-raised Modu, who joked that despite his East Coast childhood, the West Coast had always shown him the most love.
Sitting amidst intimate portraits of Tupac, Notorious B.I.G., Nas and more, Modu was joined by Snoop Dogg, whom he first worked with when the rapper turned business mogul and show host was only 19 years old. “I wasn’t there to experience it, I was there to document it. I wasn’t there to judge it, I was there to capture it,” Modu explained of his approach to photographing the young Doggy Style rapper and his associates.
This dedication to acting as a conduit of experiences and narrator of foreign realities is part of what makes Modu’s photos so resonant, even with the passing of decades. His portrait of a languid teenage Nas perched atop a twin bed in a spartan room inside of the imposing Queensbridge Housing projects has the same composition of a Renaissance era reclining nude. However Nas’ cuffed denim, collared Polo shirt and Timbs tell a different story — it’s the story of the genesis of hip-hop. On a worn wooden dresser centered in the frame sits a television, video game console and stuffed teddy bear. Above the 17-year-old Nas’ head, which rests contemplatively against a wall, is a bullet hole. The juxtaposition between the trappings of childhood and the imposed presence of gun violence, which is inescapable even within the sacred walls of a bedroom, is the sort of intentional tension Modu creates.
He calls upon these inconvenient truths to frame those who the world often looks at as violent and dangerous with the care and humanity they deserve. Modu’s unflinchingly honest photographs chronicle both the remarkable and unremarkable times of some of the most influential rappers of the ’90s, shedding light onto the relatable side of their larger-than-life legacies. Perhaps the irony is that for Modu what has always been a labor of love is now a living time capsule of a singular era in hip-hop that paved the way for future generations.
Following his panel with Snoop Dogg and radio host Anthony Valadez, PAPER briefly chatted with Modu about the inspiration behind the show and the challenges of good storytelling.
What’s the inspiration behind UNCATEGORIZED?
I obviously wanted to celebrate hip-hop and the culture, but I also wanted the show to be something that people couldn’t label. I wanted to create something that was the opposite of labeling everything to make a statement against stereotyping, which I think tends to happen to hip-hop artists quite a bit. My work does not fit into any stereotype. I don’t fit into any stereotype. My subjects don’t fit into any stereotype.
How do you ultimately want people to perceive the work?
I think the beauty of photography is that it doesn’t really matter how people perceive it because I have no control over that. I just have to document and let people read it for what it is visually without words. I think if you look at my photographs they should give you that idea — I think kids today are really awesome about that. You can see that in their work and one thing I do like is that a lot of young photographers reach out to me and I tell them to keep at it.
“It’s not glorifying — it’s documentation, it’s showing truth.”
You said that sometimes people would ask you why you’re glorifying violence by showing pictures of young men with guns. How, if at all, has that perception changed as hip-hop became more readily integrated part of popular culture?
I think the perception that hip-hop glorifies violence will always be there, but I think you also have to be honest about what you’re covering. The reality is no one judges a war photographer for photographing a war zone, so why are you judging a photographer for photographing the hood, which we know can also create the same PTSD issues we see in war because of the violence. In fact the hood can be a war zone, so people need to think in terms of, holy cow, this 17-year-old lives in a war zone, where did society go wrong? For me that’s the narrative, that’s the question we should be asking. It’s not glorifying — it’s documentation, it’s showing truth.
Is it a challenge to document without imposing a point of view?
We all have a point of view, but I think that you can still document having a point of view without imposing your narrative too heavily. I want to show the truth. I want to show people as they are. If they’re beautiful I want to show them they’re beautiful and pull it out of them. Some people say, well, “Why are you showing someone who is so ‘gangster’ as beautiful?” It throws them off. In fact, when I show them as beautiful is when you actually see them as human, and then you’ll think a little more about their circumstances and not that they’re just violent or all of these bad things. I humanize people with my camera. I think that’s my skill.
1998, artist, curator, and gallerist Tyler Gibney was studying graphic design in Montreal and decided to start an art collective with his friends called HVW8. Influenced by Bauhaus and various design movements, Gibney envisioned integrating art, design, and music through performances, happenings, collaborative murals, and immersive installations.
Twenty years later, with galleries now in Los Angeles and Berlin, Gibney continues to bridge the gap between art and industry by fostering creative minds, challenging conventional practices of art making, and stimulating our senses through memorable exhibitions and inclusive programming.
We visited Tyler at HVW8 Gallery in Los Angeles to chat about the early days of HVW8, transitioning from artist to curator, youth culture, his connection to skateboarding, the gender gap, and authenticity.
How’d HVW8 start?
I’m Canadian and I was going to art school in Montreal and I just decided to start an art collective and name it HVW8. I got a space, there was a whole bunch of us, and we started doing stuff together. I was a graphic designer, studied graphic design in school, I was really into Bauhaus, and at the same time, we were all really into music as well, like hip-hop, soul, punk, reggae, and house. So we created this space and we started doing a lot of installations. We were originally, kind of like, an art band, but instead of making music, we were making art together. We would sample certain things like Malick Sidibé photographs, or classic imagery, and then work it the same way you’d play blues or jazz. You have composition but then there’s room for improvisation, as long as everyone is working in harmony. We were not graffiti, more like post-street art. We started touring, we traveled to Japan, Puerto Rico, and we’d do these performances. I ended up liking Los Angeles and eventually co-founded HVW8 here in 2006, and expanded to Berlin in 2014.
What was it like touring? How many people were traveling with you?
Primarily three of us. We’d spend three or four hours on each piece. We were creating physical pieces and eventually, we grew and started building environments and installations. So when I came to Los Angeles, there weren’t any galleries really tying in music, performance, and installation. That’s when I changed from being an artist to a curator.
What was your transition like from artist to curator?
I’ve always worked collaboratively so it wasn’t too much of a transition. I like fostering different artists and working on projects together. In a lot of ways, it’s like making an album.
Who are some artists HVW8 exhibits rather often?
Originally Parra, for sure. We did like five or six shows here with him. Geoff McFetridge. Right now, Ines Longevial, Jean André, Brian Lotti, Mark Gonzales, and Atiba Jefferson, of course. I try to connect the dots a little bit, like when you’re putting together a mixtape, you try to find those subtle or obvious commonalities between artists.
“If all you are is a sugar high, you’re not going to last.”
You mentioned Gonz and Atiba. What’s your connection to the skate industry?
I mean, it’s just how I grew up. I loved Thrasher Magazine, hip-hop culture, and I also loved graphic design. I always felt that there was a weird place that was not graffiti, but not traditional, fine art. I felt like a lot of artists, they’d be working on skate culture because it was a good outlet. Like all the boards need graphics. Also the culture itself, there’s like the rockers, the hardcore guys, guys that are into the reggae vibe, or the joy division type dudes. I don’t want to be a skate gallery, but for a lot of skateboarders I know, it’s a natural transition to go from skateboarding into art. Atiba, for example, some people look at his work and are like, “What, this isn’t art.” But to me, he is an artist because he’s a documentarian of all this culture.
Do you think there’s a single commonality that connects all the artists you work with?
Yeah, I think they all share a certain authenticity. I feel like all the artists I work with have a really honest perspective. I definitely exhibit a lot of youth artists, cross-cultural artists, and last year, I exhibited mostly female artists. I just felt like our programming needed more female voices.
Do you find it difficult to find female artists fit for HVW8?
For sure. In all honesty, HVW8 was becoming a boys club. I’ve made a conscious effort to step out of that and give more opportunities to female artists because it doesn’t need to stay the way it was.
As a curator, how do you distinguish between sincere and authentic skill and craft, versus hype?
It’s a balance. I’ve probably curated around 250 shows so far and of course, you have hits and misses, but I think it’s important to stay true to the artists you respect and the work you know is deserving. At the same time, you can’t completely exist in a vacuum either.
The superficial stuff doesn’t last. If you really want to do art, and you want to have a fifty-year career, you don’t want to have something that’s only going to last because you’re beautiful between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five, and then nobody cares anymore because there’s someone else, because it’s pop culture. If all you are is a sugar high, you’re not going to last.
What’s your main goal for HVW8, twenty years deep? Anything you’ve been itching to try?
Inclusivity. I feel like sometimes art stuff can be really exclusive and pretentious. I think you can still show stuff with integrity.
One thing I’m really enjoying right now is technology. Like with bitmapping, there’s so much stuff you can do. I really enjoy helping artists build installations and environments that are thought out and immersive, and still include an artist statement and present ideas that challenge the viewer. We don’t have a crazy budget, but through technology, we can create almost anything we want.
What shows are coming up?
Los Angeles: Steven Traylor – Brian Lotti – Alima Lee
Berlin: Chi Modu – Josep Maynou – Aurora Sander
For more from HVW8 Gallery follow them on Instagram: @hvw8gallery.
Proud to have Ines Longevial on the Cover of Juxtapoz featuring artwork from the HVW8 exhibit ‘Sous Le Soleil’. The next exhibit with Inès will be April 27th in Berlin for Gallery Art Week. Please email info@hvw8.com for inquiries.
Gogy Esparza. Beirut Youth (2017). Courtesy of the artist.
by Sahar Khraibani
I first met NYC-based, Ecuadorian-American artist Gogy Esparza through mutual friends, and the first time we hung out we ended up walking down Madison Avenue on a Thursday afternoon. On that walk, Gogy told me that he gets his inspiration from the shop windows on this street. This surprised me, because I never took him for an Upper East Side aficionado. My vision of Gogy was that of a warm-hearted individual, who spent the last ten years or so hustling in the gritty art scene, as far away as can be from Madison Avenue. I was living in Beirut in 2016 when he was there shooting for his Beirut Youth project (2017), and though we did not cross paths, the word of his visit spread like wildfire in such a small city. The project, initially tackled the globalization of subcultures, but ultimately showcased the juxtaposition of a diverse culture, where different religions, classes and opinions breed both its chaos and its charm. It later gained a sponsorship from Adidas Originals for the exhibition to tour worldwide. Gogy and I squeezed this conversation between two haircutting appointments at his Chinatown studio. I arrived right after he had finished giving his first haircut of the day. As he sat comfortably in his barber’s chair, we discussed his path as a barber and artist working across film, photography, and fashion.
The following text has been edited for clarity.
Sahar Khraibani: You just came back from showing Beirut Youths in Tokyo. Did that trip change your perspective of the project? How was it perceived there?
Gogy Esparza: Really well. I mean, I don’t want to generalize, but the creative culture in Japan is very curious and anything they find exotic they want to know about. They tend to explore outside cultures and they go all the way: they do all their homework, they ask a lot of questions, and I think they’re very respectful and genuinely curious. That’s why I love it there. And it was great to see their reactions cause they were like “wow, the conditions in the [refugee] camps are really crazy, the history is so complex.” They were willing to ask the right questions, and eager to educate themselves.
SK: I was watching the Beirut Youths videos again, and I was thinking about their content. You know, it’s home for me, and I was thinking of the Sabra and Shatila refugee camp especially because I’ve been there so many times for different reasons. So I have a different relationship to the camp in a way, but I normally don’t like it when people other-ize and exoticize it. Your video didn’t do that. You know, it’s a very specific culture they have in the camp: it’s their own little world, kind of like Chinatown on a smaller and more condensed scale. So I was curious, as someone who had never been to Beirut before, what was your perception of Beirut before going and after going, especially visiting the camps and then areas like Raouche, which is really a mishmash of people from all classes.
GE: Before going to Lebanon you try to cover the history. I’m Latino and I grew up Catholic, so this culture is very different from mine on the surface—at least that’s what I thought. I mean, yeah, the country is 47% Christian, but the Muslim and French influences are felt just as much, if not more. The mash-up of everything over the years—you want to be privy to that before you walk in there. I think a lot of people sensationalize war and conflict and I’m not going to say that I didn’t do that.
SK: But you didn’t.
GE: But I was really naturally attracted to that. I was there when Trump was about to be elected and then there were a couple of documentaries that came out that talked about U.S. relationships with the Middle East. One of our big goals was visiting Mlita in the South and the Hizbollah Museum. There you see the other side, because in the U.S. you only get the U.S.-Israeli side. So a lot of my focus was initially on the history of war. As you know, I’m an immigrant from Ecuador who came to the U.S. with my family. We grew up in the inner city, in the hood, so naturally I kind of gravitate towards these stories of conflict and displacement because I relate to that.
Gogy Esparza. Beirut Youth (2017). Courtesy of the artist.
SK: So you’ve been through a form of displacement?
GE: Exactly. And also assimilation, right? Palestinians here are refugees but in Lebanon they somewhat have no identity. And in Lebanon I think they remind you of that.
SK: Definitely. As a Palestinian, you don’t have a passport or a citizenship. You only have a refugee card, and you’re not allowed to work in certain places or even buy a house. You’re constantly reminded that you don’t belong. I mean unless you’re very rich, there are a lot of class rules that play into this game as well. What was interesting to me was that you went to Beirut at a very specific time: the garbage crisis was at its peak, and the summer was rough, politically and culturally.
GE: I guess initially that was my concept. Beirut is a very progressive place in the Middle East, so there was going to be more free spirited energy there than obviously in Saudi or even Dubai, but what I found there was very different. Inevitably I started realizing that I couldn’t tell people that I was from New York. I couldn’t tell them I was American. I preferred telling them that I’m Ecuadorian because there was a big wall put up, rightfully so, toward the United States. But once you get through that wall with people in Lebanon, it felt just like Latin culture to me: very warm, very giving, inviting. The hosting culture is really beautiful. And also, the Mediterranean Sea. I think the sea had the biggest impact on me. It felt cleansing, calming, almost omnipresent.
Gogy Esparza. Beirut Youth (2017). Courtesy of the artist.
SK: The sea has always been the biggest mystery and inspiration for Beirut. Ultimately, being here in New York and now so far from it, I’m starting to realize why it has such a hold on people. I mean it’s the only place where you can breathe: an open space in a city with no public spaces. It’s the only escape, really. And then people lost their lives in the Mediterranean while trying to migrate and we carry that shame around.
GE: I didn’t think about that…
SK: I mean you see it everyday. What I appreciated in your videos, especially the one about the private beach club Sporting (Raouché, 2017), was that you showed the public beach right next to it. I think you hit on a specific synthesis of Beirut, a non-cliché way of showing what the city is and what it means to live there.
GE: I just tried to be honest because of course I got love at the cliffs of Raouché, but I wasn’t fully down with everybody there. They knew I was an outsider. Like “hey, I went to Sporting too, I was at that private beach,” and I think I showed that. I wasn’t trying to lie. I was eating fish at Sporting and also looking across the bay. I think I was trying to be very objective and factual and just to tell the truth. I wasn’t lying about the conditions in the camp, I wasn’t lying about Raouché. And for me, I always go in both worlds. Even in New York, I like to see every scope of every place. You can come from two different worlds and exist in both at once. Some people can only exist in one world and that’s very sad, but it’s real.
SK: I really appreciated the honesty. I’m very wary of someone coming in from the outside and wanting to apply their own vision to what the place is.
GE: Being a Catholic Latino for me changed how I saw things. We hide behind this veil of conservatism and prayer. People have this fascination with the virgin or the whore, It’s very prevalent throughout the Bible and the years of culture that have come from it, but at the end of the day this strict idea of “right and wrong” creates so much infidelity and so much distrust. You know, I talk about that in my work. I show you the ugly side. I show you the truth, and then I also show you this idealistic vision. I don’t lie. My personal work is very crude and very raw, and you know, it’s not for everybody. I think if you pay attention to the nuances of what I’m trying to say, you understand that I’m very honest about it, and anywhere I’m going to go, I’m going to do that ‘cause that’s who I am. We need to have a dialogue about the truth and our perceived notion of what we feel should be true.
SK: Do you feel like you have a duality in your perception of things? In your art?
GE: Definitely. Being in Japan was amazing and beautiful. It’s like: okay, it’s very clean and pristine and everything is incredibly orderly. All the trains are on time, but at night—or if you go to Shinjuku, the party district—essentially they sell sex dreams there. You as a foreigner cannot go into these places. You cannot document these places, because the Japanese government wants the outside world to only see the pristine side of Japan, to perceive it in a specific light. But Shinjuku is the underbelly of the city, completely run by Yakuza (members of transnational organized crime syndicates originating in Japan). This is the contrast I like to show. In Lebanon, it’s more out there, but the tradition of Arab culture is still very conservative.
SK: Depends where you are geographically in Lebanon.
GE: For sure. And I can’t assume this American standard is the same everywhere else. I can’t. It’s arrogant.
SK: But you also come from a dual identity, I mean you’re from Ecuador, then you moved to Massachusetts, and then to New York. You saw different sides of the world and had an interesting trajectory, and that’s why I think you even see New York in a different way. I mean the first time we hung out, we walked down Madison Avenue, which is an uncomfortable place for me cause I always felt it was for the rich. But you didn’t feel that way.
Gogy Esparza. Photo: Ari Marcopoulos.
GE: The thing is, my father was a doctor in Ecuador, and he fought and earned his education coming from nothing. And then he came to the States and his title wasn’t recognized, the only work he could find was in a factory assembly line. He was reduced to that kind of labor. But this guy was a doctor in his culture. Every immigrant has this story. To withstand and remain yourself and assimilate only to a certain degree is respectable and admirable. In Ecuador, he’s able to walk in the poor neighborhoods that he’s from, but he’s an educated person that willfully fought for an education, and he should be entitled to the same levels of consideration as every other person. In New York, or anywhere I go, I feel the same way. I always go to the hood wherever I am travelling, but then I will go to the more expensive neighborhoods and have a drink. I will go to the Louvre and appreciate art. I will challenge myself like that, and I will challenge the environment that is in place. I’m willing to take that risk. I have to dress like them. I’m fair skinned, but I have a shaved head. I have tattoos. I have my mannerisms and a character that let them know I’m not bourgeois. and if you’re unable to accept me, then I will challenge you. Because these people, they tend to stay in their world. They don’t come to my world, or if they do they consume it, from hip-hop to street art.
SK: Or sensationalize it in a way?
GE: Absolutely.
SK: They want to put you in that category and don’t expect of you more levels of culture or integration.
GE: For me, it’s like cutting hair. I know how to give you a fade or a tape up, a line up, a shape up; these are like cuts you get in the hood. But I know how to cut all different types of hair, and also you need different types of techniques to do that and there is a cadence, a layering process. There’s an understanding of how things fall into place in the act of cutting hair. I know how to give a good haircut because I’ve been giving them for so long, but I’ve challenged myself to learn what I don’t know. I should be entitled to appreciate the complexities of any type of world that I choose. You have these creatives challenging themselves by the exposition to a whole new culture, and assimilating the traditions of the pre-existing culture. That’s what New York is, that’s what the infrastructure is. The city was built on a grid system from the very beginning, and it was meant for ease and flow of commerce and culture. That’s embedded in the design of the city, so who am I not to take advantage of that, you know what I mean? In Lebanon, it was important for me to go to Mlita, to go to Dahieh, to Shatila and then yes I was at the trendy Decks On The Beach, and yes I was eating at Restaurant Casablanca, because I wanted to see it all.
SK: It’s part of the culture somehow.
GE: To be honest with you, I understand classism because it exists in Ecuador as well. It’s very classist, and it’s based on the color of your skin. But I don’t agree with that, and I don’t partake in it at all. I’m very vocal about that, and I show that in my work. I chill with all different types of people because I truly believe in that spirit. I believe in the human race. I want this universal prevailing message of struggle and of acceptance.
Beirut Youth will be on view in Los Angeles at HVW8 Gallery on February 22, 2018. It will be the fourth installment of the exhibition. The exhibition was shown in New York City, Dubai, and Tokyo thus far, and planning to close out the tour with an exhibition in Beirut this coming Summer.
Kilo Kish can do anything, but her strongest suit is processing how overwhelmingly underwhelmed we all are by life. The 27-year-old’s first professional work to explore that very theme was her 2016 debut album Reflections In Real Time. Since then, she’s jumped from industry to industry, executing everything from video to fashion textiles, and most recently, she’s found herself in a gallery setting with her first ever art exhibition, Real — Safe at Los Angeles’ HVW8.
On the day before the show’s opening on Friday, we sat down with the Los Angeles based artist to get an idea of what’s been on her mind and how her multi-media show represents the way she walks through her daily life.
Your work focuses on negotiating the personal with the public self. What’s the process of articulating these themes from music to visuals?
I just have tons of questions in general. I’m always trying to figure out my own doctrine for things and what i believe to be true at different points in my life. I definitely believe that people can change and grow. I do try to document different types of feelings over the years because they totally change. My perception even since making Reflections In Real Time to now about all those things—online interactions, being a creative—all that changed in a year in a half since that record. Working through ideas constantly.
When I think about things, I usually think that “This feels like this“: I’ll be having this conversation at this party…which literally makes me feel like I’m stuck in an elevator. Things like that. In my brain, I’m doing other stuff when I’m talking sometimes. It’s nice to sometimes, when I have the opportunity, to make those spaces real, which I try to do with my videos and films and my live performances. I try to take some of that actual emotional feelings and create spaces for them.
Are a lot of the works in the show abstract mundanities of these situations?
Yes, exactly.
What are other examples of that?
For me, when I look on Instagram and stuff like that, I’m like, “All of these are mundane situations.” It’s my lunch or my dinner or on a bike ride or getting an ice cream cone but there’s this grandeur that’s created out of it because it’s curated and formatted for a public. I do kind of the opposite, where I take these situations and make them extreme versions of what they really are.
How do you feel that–given some time after Reflections–this show and body of work evolves these subjects? Or are you going in a different direction?
This show is the farthest abstraction from the record. The music is literal: if you’re singing something and you’re the artist, people will be like, “That’s what you think!” You know what I mean? That’s usually where they’re going to take it. This is like all of the other ideas that don’t necessarily work in a musical medium or a live show. There are still parameters for a live show. If you don’t want to be a dick, there’s still things: people want to come here to come here–to have fun. They probably want to drink and hang out with the new girl they just met and whatever else. For you to push your really intense performance art show on them—which I do anyway—I curtail it a tiny bit. The extra stuff, that’s just too too much for a live show? That’s where it exists in a gallery.
One thing in reading about this show is this idea of the “blissfully blasé.” It very much feels like an excitement and constant pushing down by social structures or other generations that are making you apathetic.
Because there’s so much information.
Yeah.
I don’t think we were supposed to handle this much information. I think we were really actually supposed to hunt for our food and walk around and cook for three hours and walk up a hill for six hours and then come home and be too tired to do anything.
That’s what I was curious about. Do you think this simultaneous feeling of being both overwhelmed and underwhelmed is a bit of our generational calling card?
Totally—because it’s sensory overload…If you wanted to genuinely be happy (and not fake online happy), you really have to work on it. That’s a spiritual endeavor. You would have to disconnect a tiny bit from all of the boxes that you are looking at all times, literally and figuratively. There’s just so much to look at. If you finished posting your picture of your best day ever and—literally point two seconds after—someone posted a better best day than you and then you look at the next person and the next person and the next person…It’s not easy. It’s not easy to be one hundred percent satisfied, especially now when there are so many options. The only way to be fully happy is to not input as much information.
That’s great.
You’d have to disconnect a tiny bit and be like, “My day was great. And I really don’t care about all that other stuff that’s going on right now.”
What’s next after this?
After this, I’m probably going to do one more video for Reflections In Real Time and then I need to really, seriously start working on a new album.
Artist and gallerist Tyler Gibney spoke to VSCO at his Los Angeles gallery HVW8 about the exhibition “Anxiety” (Nov 4 – Dec 16), a group show he curated with Laura Watters that sought to address “the unnerving tension of the strange climate of present day.” The theme of the show would prove to be even more relevant as the US and the world reacted to the new era that was ushered in on November 8th. Following the election, works in the show resonated with further levels of meaning — Cali Thornhill DeWitt’s opioids and Earths installation, Brendan Lynch’s tribute tee to Eric Garner (which the artist had worn across a two-year span), and Gibney’s own “Gun America” mural painted large on the side of the building. Gibney has a history of organizing work that intersects with politics and social issues, most notably, “The Art of a Political Revolution — Artists for Bernie Sanders” earlier in 2016. And in this vignette, Gibney offers his views on the gallery’s role, and responsibility, in providing the needed context for the crucial position that artists play in offering perspectives on the pressing issues of our times.
Young Parisian photographer Karl Hab has long had an obsession with Los Angeles and aerial photography. His first book, Window Seat Please, was a dreamy zine shot entirely out of the window of planes crossing the Atlantic, then his second book, 24H Los Angeles was a more literal exploration of LA.
In his latest project, Karl has shot LA’s most colourful, graphic basketball courts from a two-seater helicopter. “It was a project in a project,” he says of the three-year project. “When I was shooting pictures for 24h Los Angeles I found these nuggets, so I decided to shoot more courts last summer while I was in LA.”
Opening this week at HVW8 Gallery Berlin – an exhibition showing the work of Lisa Leone, a Bronx-born photographer and cinematographer that had organic relationships with some of hip-hop’s most influential artists.
From in-studio photos of Nas recording his first album ‘Illmatic’ to being on Snoop Dogg’s ‘Who Am I’ (What’s My Name) video set during a shootout between gangs in Long Beach. The artist was in the midst of the generation’s hit singles and music videos, making her known as the photographer whom photographed hip-hop’s history. We had the pleasure meeting Lisa at the gallery before the opening to get an exclusive insight on her work and stories…
As I was waiting in front of the HVW8 Gallery in Berlin to meet Jerry Hsu for the first time in my life, I again went over the notes I had written on a rumpled piece of paper. I knew I had to ask the right questions in order to get a deeper impression of who Jerry is and how his mind functions. It began to rain and I had to take cover inside of the gallery, where some of Jerry’s expressive photos had already been hung up on the white walls, while others still were packed in boxes. While looking around, I felt like the whole room was filled with love, while also charged with related but at the same time totally opposite feelings of sadness, and even hints of quiet pain. On one side of the gallery, an adorable naked girl was portrayed sitting in a tub, while on the other side, a man on a lonely street was captured throwing away a fresh bunch of flowers into a trash can while walking by. Somehow Jerry seems to have an eye for quiet and mundane scenes that, on a closer inspection, depict a much deeper theme than what might appear at first glance.
To not stand for something means you’ll fall for anything. HVW8 Gallery co-founder Tyler Gibney has never been content on the sidelines. Despite the inability to vote as a Canadian citizen, Gibney put his artistic stake in the ground for the 2016 Presidential Election. The global influence of the United States is an important part of the world’s fabric. To be apathetic and not challenge the world around us is a great disservice according to Gibney. The HVW8 story is not focused so much on the candidate they support. It’s about the very decision to pick a side and to tell a story through art in the divisive world of politics.
Brian Lotti: Echo Park Visionary skate filmmaker Jacob Rosenberg captures the artist’s LA story
It is no surprise that American artist Brian Lotti’s work takes in inner-city neighborhoods, alleyways, vistas and purposefully-striding figures – the elements inherent to the urban landscape with which his years as a professional street skateboarder made him so intimately familiar.
After a successful career in the sport (he is credited as being one of the originators of technical street skating), the Okinawa-born Lotti studied art at San Francisco State University, after which he returned to Southern California.
Directed by renowned skate director Jacob Rosenberg – responsible for the pioneering Plan B films Questionable and Virtual Reality, and whom Lotti first met 27 years ago at a skateboard camp in Santa Clara – today’s profile follows the painter as he prepares for his first solo exhibition at HVW8, a collection of oils, color studies and monotypes that captures his home base in Los Angeles’s Echo Park with bold impressionistic strokes and vivid colors that bring to mind Cezanne’s Provençal landscapes.
Echo Park by Brian Lotti at HVW8 gallery, Los Angeles runs to August 2.
1980s, Janette Beckman, an expat punk photographer from London, amassed a portfolio of burgeoning New York rap acts like the Cold Crush Brothers, Big Daddy Kane and Public Enemy. It was a labor of love for Ms. Beckman, who had visited New York a few years earlier and was so entranced by the beginnings of hip-hop that she never left. She later collected those images in a book, but she challenges you to find a copy of it today.
“We couldn’t sell it to anyone,” Ms. Beckman said. “Back then, there was not one thought in my mind hip-hop would become this massive thing.”
Was she wrong.
Ms. Beckman’s early portraits are now on display in “Hip-Hop Revolution” at the Museum of the City of New York, alongside the work of Joe Conzo Jr. and Martha Cooper, photographers whose images from the 1970s through the 1990s document parties and dances that began in empty lots and playgrounds and went on to become part of global youth culture.
I first heard the name Atiba Jefferson in relation to the skate scene in Los Angeles. Over the years, Jefferson has had access to a who’s who of not only skating, but music, sports, pop culture and more. Whether sitting in on a Henry Rollins photoshoot and quietly clicking the shutter through a long lens, or being commissioned to snap portraits of the Jumpman himself, Atiba has accumulated a wealth of experience during his tenure as a photographer and multi-creative. When speaking with Atiba, there was a lot to cover, as you can’t place his work into only one silo. In this sense, he seems to be a caricature of the modern creative; being well-versed in multiple creative mediums.
How did the HVW8 exhibition in Berlin come to fruition?
It came together at the last minute. I was in Berlin, working with Oakley on a new project, traveling with Sean Malto and Eric Koston, and they asked us to come over for a sales meeting. Tyler asked me to do it, and I was enthusiastic about the project, especially because I was already there.
So you knew him from LA?
Yeah, that’s the one gallery I show at in LA. So I’ve done a couple of shows at his gallery in LA and stuff like that.
Do you have other relationships with galleries like that in the States where you only want to show at one particular gallery?
I don’t regularly show my work but I do have a friend whose group show I’m always trying to be a part of. And then smaller stuff but I only started doing solo shows after I met Tyler.
What about the name of the exhibition? Could you explain that as well?
Titles are always a little bit tricky to come by. I’ve been listening to “So Long, Lonesome,” this Explosions in the Sky song. They’re an instrumental band – pretty big in the U.S. They’re one of my favorite bands actually. I saw them on their first tour in 2000 or 2001, and they were playing to some four people. Now they play huge festivals, in front of eight to ten thousand people at a time. The funny thing is, I was backstage at the Fuck Yeah festival in LA, and the dudes in the band were passing me. They called out to me because they knew who I was. I turned around and recognized them as well. After that we became really good friends.
En route to HVW8 Art + Design Gallery in Berlin, I was chewing over the years I spent listening to Ed Banger releases. Admittedly, I definitely had a higher level of familiarity with So Me – Jean André’s predecessor as art director at Ed Banger – before speaking with Jean himself that is, who was hosting an exhibition in the intimate gallery setting in the city’s Mitte district. You may expect to receive virtually zero facetime in circumstances like these, given the way that PR people, writers, photographers, fans, and myself, will be pooling around an artist, however, Jean obliged conversations effortlessly, entertaining all those to take an interest in the visual offerings that night. So Me was practically synonymous with Ed Banger at a certain time and presumably following up on his role would entail certain challenges. Jean André seems to have strode confidently into his new position, while bringing a singular and unique approach that would not presently indicate a total overhaul of the French record label’s artistic aesthetic.
Check above in the slideshow for a custom illustration done for Highsnobiety by Jean André.
What’s up Jean? How was Art Basel Miami?
Art Basel was great! Constructing a full exhibition in 4 days in a new city is always a big challenge to me. I had to deal with the furniture we brought, the supplies which didn’t show up because of shipping from Los Angeles, the display of the adidas x HVW8 shoes that I worked on with Kevin Lyons etc… It’s super motivating.
Would you describe yourself as a sneakerhead? What is your relationship with streetwear?
I think I have like 5 pairs of shoes. I’m not a super fashionista, I do not collect sneakers or any apparel, and I don’t go to fashion week. I wear what fits me, that’s pretty much all I care about fashion. Actually, I have a cool collection of white Apparel T-shirts and Zara pants.
You often work with Kevin Lyons, what is his role in your life?
Kevin is a friend and a great advisor, kind of a brother/mentor. He has a great deal of experience in this crazy art/exhibitions/collaboration game.
What about HVW8 Gallery?
That’s all about Tyler Gibney. He is a great guy, he believes in me and was the first man to suggest that I travel to show my drawings. HVW8 has some great artists that I have followed for years, so I feel great to be part of a cool move like this.
HVW8 Gallery and adidas Release New Designs By Kevin Lyons and Jean André
Launch Party in LA at HVW8 on Saturday, November 15, 2014
(Los Angeles) Celebrating the intersection of fashion, art and music, adidas and HVW8 announce the release of new artwork on Seely and Adi-Ease styles from two of the design world’s most inspiring minds: Kevin Lyons and Jean André.
On Saturday, November 15, HVW8’s West Hollywood gallery will kick off an international series of events celebrating these collaborations with appearances, artwork, a display of the four new shoes from the two artists and a special music guest.
Kevin Lyons
“I wanted to create bright, colorful all-over prints. But making sure that they are still very wearable…” says Lyons, “With the Seeley, I wanted to experiment with a lot of the watercolor on paper backgrounds that I have been doing over the past couple of years. I played around with very saturated color mixing that created an analog, thermodynamic Predator-like pattern. I like the moody blue and rich tones that some of the saturations and bleeding make.”
With the Ease, Lyons saw an opportunity to use some of the color fill drips from his larger mural paintings where he often uses sponges and water-based paint to loosely fill his Monster characters. The drips then often make for interesting compositions of drops and splatters.
“I loved the idea of doing a white shoe that then had the watercolor on it…But it is not meant to look like literal paint splatters – more a fabric design that was made up of those drops and splatters.”
Jean André
Speaking on his Seeley design, Jean says, “I always wear full color shoes. I’m not into many colors and many shapes. I wanted a special product that looks like something I would wear. I figured out that if you were to stand in a pool of black ink with your white shoes, then it could be a cool look and feel.”
For his Adi-Ease, Jean looked at an all-over pattern of more sensual shapes and the formal similarities between leaves and women’s lips. Jean adds, “I thought that everybody would expect me to draw girls on the shoes, but I don’t really love figurative patterns. I did, however, want a thugged-out black and white pair that I’d be proud to rock, so I added the girl inside as a signature, last touch.
The November 15 event at HVW8 Art + Design will be followed by an installation at Art Week in Miami from December 3 – 7 and special pop-up galleries to follow in Europe. Both artists and HVW8 want each launch date to be a full-on event. Expect live-paintings, large scale murals, and plenty of great live music.
Saturday, November 15th 2014 – 7PM – 10PM
Exhibition runs through December 28, 2014
HVW8 Gallery
661 N. Spaulding Ave Los Angeles, CA 90036
RSVP : rsvp@hvw8.com
Los Angeles, United States Scenes of a Southern Transplant Artist in L.A.
by Chris Black
Artist and musician Erin D. Garcia is originally from the South, but he’s lived in Los Angeles for a long time and it shows in his work. He uses vibrant colors to create beautiful graphic art that is synonymous with the forefathers of the L.A. style: John Baldessari, David Hockney, and Ed Ruscha. By employing geometric abstractions to explore rhythm and permutation, his art is at once familiar and impressive.
Using a technique that is reminiscent of ’60s minimalism, Garcia focuses on essential shapes with a less-is-more approach, forgoing the complex and only retaining the essential. His second solo exhibition, 5 Shapes in 6 Colors, displays a rich body of work in a multitude of mediums: drawings, paintings, and even a mural. It’s on view at HVW8 Gallery until September 14.
Justin R. Saunders
via the Wushipu Oil Painting Village in Xiamen, China.
From JJJJound Correspondence, HVW8 Gallery, 2013
Parra
Betrayed
From Same Old Song, HVW8 Gallery, 2014
Parra
Lunch Beers
From Same Old Song, HVW8 Gallery, 2014
E.S.G., Missouri City, 2005
Peter Beste
From Houston Raps, HVW8 Gallery 2014
New article on HVW8 Gallery and Summer School from Nowness.com
Summer School: HVW8 Gallery
Art Lessons and Dance Sessions in the Californian Desert
From the brazen imagery of Amsterdam’s Parra to the internet-inspired visuals of the Kanye West-affiliated Canadian artist JJJJound, LA gallery HVW8 cultivates an international collision of pop culture and graphic design in a contemporary art setting. “We allow someone that might not be familiar with the artists we exhibit to see them in a lineage of El Lissitzky or Roy Lichtenstein, who to me are examples of fine graphic artists,” says HVW8 co-founder Tyler Gibney. This month the gallerist took psychedelic artists Erin D. Garcia, Teebs, Jean André and Alvaro “Freegums” Ilizarbe on a desert road trip for Summer School, an art and music weekender at the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs featuring sun-kissed West Coast bands such as dance-punk duo De Lux. “I grew up with a Bauhaus education and I love the idea of artists teaching and exposing their craft,” says Gibney of the hands-on experience of Summer School’s workshops. Founded in 2011 by LA new music champions School Night and the Ace Hotel, the micro-festival’s inaugural line-up included cult mobile letterpress studio Movable Type, and Chris Johanson of the Mission School art movement. “I approach my drawings as a viewer, I want to understand why a choice is made and the reason behind it,” says Garcia, who took on collage class duties while Cali locals Teebs went cosmic with Japanese tie-dye alongside Ilizarbe’s infinity patterns, and Paris’s André showcased poster techniques. “I think there’s an elegance in a simple idea that’s communicated well.”
