August 29 2014

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3 posts tagged "Jarvis Cocker"

Central Saint Martins Alums Say Their Goodbyes To Charing Cross Road


“Have a listen. This is educational,” screamed Pulp front man Jarvis Cocker before playing to a rowdy crowd at Friday night’s farewell celebration to Central Saint Martins College’s buildings on Charing Cross Road. A CSM graduate, Cocker, whose song “Common People” was famously written about one of his classmates, was just as nostalgic as the students and faculty dancing in the audience. Next month, after 72 years, the school will move from its crumbling 1939 buildings in the heart of Soho to a $320 million complex in North London’s King’s Cross. The new building will be a high-tech haven to the school’s rebellious student body and unrivaled, unorthodox faculty. But that doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye to Charing Cross, whose paint-chipped halls have been walked by Alexander McQueen, Hussein Chalayan, John Galliano, and countless other fashion talents.

Hosted by Love magazine’s Katie Grand (above right), a former CSM student herself, the party welcomed alums like Christopher Kane, Giles Deacon (below left), Marios Schwab, and Ed Meadham and Ben Kirchhoff. But, in true Saint Martins style, the fête wasn’t just for VIPs. A mob of almost 800 graduates and current students, many of whom were clad top to toe in looks from their friends’ or their own graduate collections, ran from techno-lit classroom to techno-lit classroom, fluorescent glasses of vodka cocktails in hand. Partygoers paid homage to their alma mater by signing or doodling in a massive bound book posted at the school’s entrance, while Grand and CSM tutor Julie Verhoeven took their tributes to the next level, graffiti-ing the walls of the upstairs studios-turned-dancehalls. In order to grab a piece of history, a handful of students snuck past security into the off-limits sewing rooms, gathering whatever muslins, patterns, or mementos they could carry.

Before leaving the stage, Cocker offered some words of wisdom, yelling, “This is the last night of Saint Martins. Some people might think that’s a drag. But what we have to move is the spirit that existed within this place. Because it isn’t about this,” he said, gesturing to the building. “It’s about this,” he screamed, pointing to the crowd. “Here’s to the future of Saint Martins. May it survive.”

Photos: Boo George

Damien Hirst’s Art Collection—Now In Dress Form


The family that rents together, sticks together. So Maia Norman borrowed her partner Damien Hirst’s bookstore/gallery, The Other Criteria, on London’s New Bond Street, emptied it out and, voilà, an instant pop-up for her own clothing line, Mother of Pearl. “Business is booming in every corner of the world, Colette and others like that can’t get enough of us, but we don’t have a London stockist—ironic, isn’t it?” Norman deadpanned. “This was the perfect way to bring the collection to the city, see what the public wants and what they respond to.”

If last night’s opening cocktail was any indication, they’re responding quite well. An A-list crowd came out to celebrate at the shop (wrapped in vinyl for the occasion), including co-host Hirst (in a suit, no less), the Clash’s Paul Simonon, Moda Operandi’s Yasmin Sewell, Mary Charteris (above right), and model Sara Blomqvist (above left, with Norman, center, all in Mother of Pearl). Guest DJ and good buddy Jarvis Cocker manned the decks. Even Norman’s collaborator of the season, reclusive artist Jim Lambie, showed up. (“Actually,” Norman says, “he is not as reclusive as he is shy.”) “It stimulates in a different way,” Lambie said of seeing his prints—wildflowers, duct tape, and, no joke, eyeballs—on fabrics like nappa leather and washable silk, rather than on gallery walls. “It is much more evocative because it places itself directly onto the body. It becomes the body in many ways; it reinterprets our understanding of the body. It’s shape, movement, and overall sex appeal.”

Artistry, for obvious reasons, is part of Mother of Pearl’s DNA, but equally important is freedom of movement. “The clothes have to be easy,” says Norman, famed for her love of danger sports, like motocross, riding, and boarding. (Earlier in the week she was surfing in Devon with her new toy: a heated wetsuit.) “I need things to be unrestricted as I am always on the move, but the clothes have to be interesting as well. That’s why Jim Lambie was an easy choice for us. Damien has been collecting him for years, and he was part of our circle, so to speak. I had been loving his works for years now, seeing it in galleries, and then the next thing was just to convince him to do it. I think the results really excited him.”

Speaking of exciting: good to know whom Damien Hirst is collecting. And now on New Bond Street, a Lambie can be yours—at a fraction of the price.

Photo: Courtesy of Mother of Pearl

Rankin: Please Do Touch The Art


Destroy/Rankin is not your usual photo retrospective. The book, which comes out stateside next week, does feature a collection of portraits shot by photographer, filmmaker, and Dazed & Confused co-founder Rankin over the course of his career; so far, so typical. Not so typical? The fact that Rankin handed those portraits back to his subjects, to do with as they pleased. Seventy musicians, including Debbie Harry (pictured), Jarvis Cocker, Kylie Minogue, U2, and Beck, took Rankin up on the offer to tear up, deface, paint over, and otherwise mess with his snaps. (Damien Hirst also did yeoman’s work filling in for late Clash front man Joe Strummer as destroyer.) The mash-up artworks were auctioned off at Phillips de Pury in London in November, with proceeds going to U.K. charity Youth Music, and profits from the Destroy/Rankin book are going the organization’s way, as well. Here, Rankin talks to about his appetite for destruction.

How did you come up with the idea to let artists you’ve shot over the years have at your work?
I was looking over a lot of my old work, and it occurred to me that there wasn’t much interaction between me and the people I’d shot after those shoots were over. Which was a sort of disappointing realization, honestly. I wanted to create more of a space for collaboration. And I thought it would be an unusual interaction to have the artists I’d shot over the years go back and look at these images of themselves and destroy them in some way. I liked the word destroy. Creative destruction. It seemed like a good, punk idea, to invite a bit of chaos.

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