the neighborhood will be constructed from shipping containers made from recycled steel and welded together to form single 480 square foot units.
Taylor Swift‘s upcoming American Music Awards live performance might be up in the air. The singer opened up this week about her continued battle over her song rights with Scooter Braun, claiming the prolific music manager is actively blocking her from performing her old songs.
In a statement on Twitter, Swift says Braun, who owns the rights to her music, and Scott Borchetta, the CEO of her old record label Big Machine Records, are preventing her from playing a medley of her songs at the AMAs and have even blocked the use of any of her old music in an upcoming Netflix documentary. This makes any recorded events until November 2020 “a question mark.” She wrote “The message being sent to me is very clear. Basically, be a good little girl and shut up. Or you’ll be punished. This is wrong. Neither of these men had a hand in the writing of those songs.”
Don’t know what else to do pic.twitter.com/1uBrXwviTS
— Taylor Swift (@taylorswift13) November 14, 2019
The battle over Swift’s music has been regularly erupting into the public sphere since the singer left music Big Machine Label Group. Borchetta subsequently sold BMLG along with Swift’s masters, to Braun, who manages Justin Bieber and Kanye West. According to Forbes, Swift claims Braun is blocking her from buying back her catalogue and has allegedly even directed his clients such as Kanye West, to bully her on several occasions.
In a new petition, fans and fellow artists are rallying behind Swift and demanding the music executives allow her to perform her music. The petition has already garnered over 50,000 signatures.
Jade started this petition after two music executives, Scooter Braun and Scott Borchetta, told Taylor Swift they would refuse to give her access to her older songs. Now thousands are standing with @taylorswift13 #IStandWithTaylor @taylornation13 https://t.co/lDgzCQYOsR
— Change.org (@Change) November 15, 2019
The mattress maker’s sale is for one day only.
Lil Peep‘s second posthumous album Everything is Everything has arrived. Listen to it below. Dubbed as a lovingly-curated collection of songs from Lil Peep’s career,” the 19-track album includes unreleased music alongside previously shared tracks such as “cobain,” “walk away as the door slams,” and “witchblades.”
Three of the album’s tracks also appeared on the Goth Angel Sinner EP which released earlier this month.
The album drop coincides with the theatrical release of the documentary by the same name. The highly anticipated film, Everybody’s Everything, is an intimate portrait of the late rapper, as told by his friends and family. Read what critics are saying about it here.
Both the album and the documentary arrive a year after his first posthumous album, Come Over When You’re Sober, Pt. 2, and two years on from his accidental death by drug overdose. The title was taken from an Instagram post Lil Peep published the day before his death. In it, he spoke about wanting to be “everybody’s everything.”
View this post on Instagram
I just wana be everybody's everything I want too much from people but then I don't want anything from them at the same time u feel me I don't let people help me but I need help but not when I have my pills but that's temporary one day maybe I won't die young and I'll be happy? What is happy I always have happiness for like 10 seconds and then it's gone. I'm getting so tired of this
A post shared by @ lilpeep on Nov 14, 2017 at 5:46pm PST
Blue Blue Japan pays homage to their home country with these socks featuring the rising sun. Woven into the ankle of these reinforced, cotton-blend items, a red circle references the nation’s flag: the Hinomaru. As they’re finished off with tapered cuffs, these socks won’t lose their shape or slide down when worn.
Perched in the Santa Monica mountains of Los Angeles is The Getty Center, a palatial open-air expanse made up of curvilinear architecture, idyllic gardens, and 16,000 tons of stone, housing multiple centuries’ worth of priceless art. It has some of the most scenic panoramic views of LA you’re likely to see: one side overlooks the entire city past the 405 freeway, on another, you can see the Pacific ocean. It’s here that Solange is exhibiting her latest interdisciplinary art endeavor, “Bridge-s,” a series of performances, films, and artist talks she has programmed in partnership with Getty, Dropbox, and IAMSOUND.
Earlier this week, Solange previewed the centerpiece of “Bridge-s:” a live music and dance performance she directed and composed, featuring choreography by Gerard & Kelly. The performance takes place on an outdoor terrace in a clearly-defined square, each side about 50 feet; viewers stand on all sides. (The audience at the preview included Dev Hynes, Tyler, the Creator, Thundercat, Syd, and Solange’s son, Julez.) A troupe of musicians take the floor one at a time, stationing sparsely within the square with drums, piano, keyboards, upright bass. Vocalists and horn players mill in, out, and around. Solange’s vocal flourishes can be heard in the minimalistic jazz arrangements she has composed. Dancers enter, one or two at a time until there is ultimately about a dozen, each dressed monochromatically in a shade of beige, brown, or bright marigold— same as the instrumentalists. As the late afternoon sun began to sink and saturate the terrace, everyone looked golden.
The choreography is consistent with contemporary dance, which fuses elements of ballet, jazz, and lyrical styles; in the performance, the dancers orbit around the square and around each other, repeating sequences, spoken elements, and percussive body sounds like slaps and steps. At times they interlock and lift each other to create shapes and play with scale. They move in elliptical, measured intervals, like a clock. It speaks to the “transitions through time” that the series itself thematically centers. In Solange’s words, “’Bridge-s’ is a reflection on how much transition can be controlled and accelerated by our own ideas, thoughts, and movements vs. the natural process of time and space.” The performance begets an understanding of time as something that is indeed cyclical, but also relative and malleable.
Characteristically, Solange engages the space in its entirety. Intermittently throughout the performance, dancers and instrumentalists appear on distant balconies and in peripheral corners of the grounds, expanding the scope of the performance well beyond the square. A drummer makes his way behind a kit situated on a grassy clearing several yards away; meanwhile, a single dancer on an upper terrace moves in sync with the group in the central square. A horn section bleats from a staircase on the far side of a sunken garden, suspended above the treeline. A percussionist lays a beat with mallets used against the thick stone columns. The performance is inseparable from the environment; a reminder that a work of art’s physical context integrally informs our relationship to the piece.
At the end of the 45-minute preview performance, a beaming Solange entered the square to take a bow alongside her performers and collaborators. She thanked them, as well as Getty, for the opportunity “to experiment and evolve,” and said she felt eager to further her practices as both a director and composer. This comes as no surprise to anyone who has paid attention to the work she has produced over the past three years. Solange has been honing herself as an artist of multiple disciplines, in tandem with her career as a recording artist, and carving a space for herself fine art institutions; from the iconic 2017 presentation of her performance piece “Scales” at the Guggenheim, to the video/dance/sculpture work “Metatronia (Metatron’s Cube)” featured at the Hammer Museum in 2018, to the presentation of her When I Get Home film in New York, Los Angeles, and London museums earlier this year.
“Bridge-s” is Solange’s first offering in which she does not herself take the stage. This next chapter of her artistry sees Solange taking what she’s learned from her extracurricular interests and from aestheticizing her own work— through stage design, choreography, art direction, music composition —and implementing those skills in new contexts that go beyond propping up her recording career. It’s an exciting development that should inspire any artist with similarly sprawling inclinations; anyone whose creativity unfurls in multiple directions that are subject to intertwine but that also subsist as individual, lively avenues of their own.
Riding the Getty tram from the gallery space back down to the parking level after the event, I gazed out the window. The full moon stared back, round and yellow as an egg yolk, looming low above the mountains. In unison, everyone on the train turned to marvel at it. The woman next to me instinctively pulled out her iPhone to snap a photo before quickly remembering out loud, to no one in particular, that you can never really get a good picture of the moon— not one that does it any justice. No one responded, but everyone apparently agreed, because the rest of us didn’t dare try either. We just took it in. It was understood that some experiences, like the moon and like the performance we just watched, are a matter of time and place.
“Bridge-s” will be free entry and open to the public on November 16-17.
We’re under the magnificent glass dome of Milan’s Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, Italy’s oldest shopping center and one of the world’s most opulent, where models stand in vintage puffer jackets, looking straight through the gathered crowds with the kind of thousand-yard stare that burns deep into the soul. After a while, some of the women begin distorting their limbs into improbable postures, before others take a seat on the cold mosaic tiles. A few are overwhelmed by the ineffably haunting atmosphere and tears begin to roll down their cheeks. Watching a ballerina cry is as sad as it sounds.
But this isn’t some odd atrocity exhibition, rather, it’s an installation from the legendary Vanessa Beecroft in celebration of Moncler’s House of Genius pop-up store. Beecroft’s tableaux vivants are deceptively challenging, an exploration of existentialism that invites those involved to interpret how the audience is interpreting them. Each performance references the political, historical, or social associations of the place where it’s held, the models and clothing also chosen specifically. Often, Beecroft disregards the latter in favor of bare human flesh. It’s what makes this coming together with the Moncler puffer jacket — an icon of heavyweight outerwear — so curious.
“When I was growing up, there was a big boom of Moncler jackets worn by a particular group of teenagers,” she tells me, reminiscing. “They were from Milan and they were called the Paniari. They would wear them with Timberland shoes and Levi’s. They looked amazing.”
The Italian-born Beecroft studied art in Milan but has long since lived in Los Angeles. It was the Hollywood Hills’ eclectic colorscapes that inspired her work for Moncler, including the homeless tents that have, regrettably, become a familiar sight throughout the city in recent years. “It’s all in your face there, all of these realities next to [one another],” she says, referencing LA’s schizophrenic urban fabric.
Despite her long involvement in the fashion world, it’s Beecroft’s work with Kanye West that has seen her star go supernova. Somewhat antithetical to the ethos of a creative autocrat like West, the Moncler Genius project is all about collaboration, operating under the motto of “One House, Different Voices.” Beecroft tells me that she had only two weeks to realize the performance, which proved challenging because she had also just undertaken a job for West — whom she has resumed working with again — that will be revealed in the coming fortnight. Like West (and Moncler Genius), you sense she harbors an inherent desire to push fashion forward, to challenge its orthodox practices. Like the runway, for example.
“I was never a great fan of the traditional fashion runway,” she confirms, which will come as no surprise to anyone who has ever watched a YEEZY show. “I didn’t like the destitution of cheap music, the walk that is so fast, the show. It was too similar, too quick and consumeristic – but the big fashion shows are even worse.
“In the art world, the importance of the actual gallery or museum is fading, since people can just look at the work online and they kind of dismiss going to a place and viewing it. That’s a shame, because there is an importance to the actual theatricality and the spectacle. For example, early Saint Laurent fashion shows, where the ladies come in – it’s more intimate. I feel like there should be a balance.”
The internet, too, has also had a profound effect on the relationship between performance art and fashion. When Beecroft was working with Helmut Lang and Prada in the early ’00s, there was no such thing as Instagram. Nowadays, people can gorge on content indefinitely. It’s something she laments.
“In the ’90s, you were starved; I was starving, craving that visual. Now I feel less so because I keep seeing imitations or other things happening online. At the time, I remember you had analog materials, magazines, books, and when you saw something live, or even in photographs, it was really fulfilling. Today I feel less so, but [the current state will probably lead to] something positive. I’m waiting for that to happen.”
“What do you think it will be?” I ask.
Beecroft pauses, before opening the question up.
“I’m wondering if it will be a progressiveness,” she answers, getting philosophical. “For example, if I show a naked woman and nobody understands and I have to go to another museum and show another naked woman, [still] nobody understands. By the time you do it online, within a month, maybe they will get it and we’ll move to the next chapter. So maybe social issues could be dealt with faster. Because capitalism is so insidious and evil, it might just trigger you back into another pocket where you can’t get out. So you have to buy a new iPhone and you have to have something. So my wish would be that issues would be understood on a larger scale faster, and we could move on, but I’m not sure.”
Back at the Galleria that night, people clamor to film and take photos of Beecroft’s tableaux. The place is heaving, so much so that there’s a line to enter the Francesco Ragazzi-designed House of Genius. As a 17-year-old student who worked as an au pair, Beecroft used to walk through the venue when it was cold and empty. Tonight, she’s the toast of the hottest party in Milan.