Issue 1
Featuring
The Photo – Melanie Bonajo
The Class – Pascale Gatzen
The Musical – Melissa Lidauvais
The Story – Melissa Plaut
The Composition – Anne de Vries
The Editors – Bart de Baets
The Movie – Jennie Livingstone
The Gallery – Jessica Silverman
The Ode – Mylou Oord
The Jewel – Yaz Bukey
The Essay – David Lynch
The Composition – Qiu Yang
Cover
Melissa Livaudais photographed by Sam Falls, New York
The Photo – Melanie Bonajo
Melanie Bonajo is an Amsterdam-based artist who’s constantly on the move. With new-school bohemian courage, she keeps changing and morphing; her photographic work being witness to this process. A versatile girl, her curiosity made her wander past the art world and away from the commercial world, and she’s now embarking on a more mystic universe. As we speak, she’s working on her first concept album; music being her latest explor-ation. Needless to say that we love the idea of a rebirth of that 70s concept.
Words by Clark Solack
Photo by Sophie Morner
The Class – Pascale Gatzen
In 2007, fashion designer Pascale Gatzen was invited by Parsons, The New School of Design, to jump on board and create a new pathway – Fashion Track – within the Integrated Design Program (IDp).This was the big break for Pascale, who at the time, was living in Am-sterdam and stuggling with the strict Dutch educational system. The following 3D interview is based on talks with three of her close collaborators and friends. Susan Cianciolo co-teaches with Pascale at Parsons and is, herself, an accomplished designer. Nightwood is the furniture brand run by Myriah Scruggs and Nadia Yaron, partners-in-crime who work in a very hands-on, no-nonsense approach. Michael DiPietro is Pascale’s most loyal pupil and one of the initiators of Absolute Beginners, the store that grew out of the Fashion Track in New York’s Lower East Side.
Photo by Brianna Capozzi
The Musical – Melissa Lidauvais
These days music identifies itself by presenting an unidentifiable nature: a melting pot of styles all blended together in intricate grit of layers, thrusting sonically back and forth like a Jackson Pollock painting, creating some weird kind of unknown elevated higher purpose. And this is exactly what the music of Telepathe does; it pleasantly folds over you like waves of siren-like chants in order to break your dykes in mysteriously thrusting beats of sonic levels. On a late summer afternoon in McCarren Park, I talk with Mc Carren Park talk with Melissa Livaudais, one half of the Telepathe duo.
Words by JOFF
Photo by Sam Falls
The Movie – Jennie Livingstone
Years ago, I think somewhere in 1999, I took home a copy of Paris Is Burning from my local video store. I didn’t really know what to expect but its title intrigued me, and being a fan of the voguing phenomenon, I was really curious to see what the film had to offer.
I totally fell in love while watching it – all these people having fun at those balls and showing off, the bitching amongst each other, the dreams – either lost or yet to be gained – the music, the moves, the dances! I googled its director and – much to my surprise – found out she was a woman and a lesbian. Years later, I finally got hold of Jennie Livingston. She’s is a busy person but she gave me half-an-hour of her time. However, the 30 minutes turned into 54 minutes by the time our late-night overseas phone call was over.
Words by Jessica Gysel
The Gallery – Jessica Silverman
Years ago, I think somewhere in 1999, I took home a copy of Paris Is Burning from my local video store. I didn’t really know what to expect but its title intrigued me, and being a fan of the voguing phenomenon, I was really curious to see what the film had to offer.
I totally fell in love while watching it – all these people having fun at those balls and showing off, the bitching amongst each other, the dreams – either lost or yet to be gained – the music, the moves, the dances! I googled its director and – much to my surprise – found out she was a woman and a lesbian. Years later, I finally got hold of Jennie Livingston. She’s is a busy person but she gave me half-an-hour of her time. However, the 30 minutes turned into 54 minutes by the time our late-night overseas phone call was over.
Words by Sarvia Jasso
Photo by Daniel Trese
