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How did you get into what you do? 2)
How would you sum up your work in one sentence? 3)
What inspires you? 4)
What do you love the most about the process of creating an image? 5)
You often merge digital and traditional illustration techniques. Do
you think today there's a danger of the computer killing traditional
illustration? Combining
digital techniques with those that are more traditional is just
the most exciting way to work for me - it allows an unparralleled flexibility
whilst retaining the organic feel and approach I love. It helps
me keep pushing what I do which is key. 7)
Your collaboration with product designer Hideki sounds interesting... 9)
So what does the future hold for Von? |
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1) Where
are you from? 2)
Tell us about your work? How would you describe your style? 3)
What elements do you think makes a good picture? 4)
Who are your favourite photographers? 5)
If you could shoot anyone in the world of your choice, who would it
be? 6)
What's next for you? What are you doing now? An additional part of the photo archive is included in issue 4, called “Daniel Sannwald” – of fucklet photo magazine. This issue can be found in selected bookstores and ordered at www.fucklet.com. This website also offers access to 4 songs by different artists, performing a song based on a secret code language of numbers created by me and the prisoners. The musicians are Namosh, Jessica Rylan, Dina Dellyana and Future Funk Collective. I will end this interview by giving the readers of Nothing Magazine access to one of the four songs. To access the song of Namosh use the code: 254460 |
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| 1)Where
are you from? 2)
How did Lady Haidee start? How long have you been around? Lady Haidee perform live at at The Orange, West Kensington, London, Monday 24th July 2006. |
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1) Where
are you from?
2) How would
you describe your style? 3)
You produce your images in a variety of ways. What's your favorite medium? 6)
Tell us about some of the projects you've done lately... 7)
What would your dream project / job be? 8)
What do you love, and what do you hate the most about being a designer
/ illustrator? 9)
What's next for Naja Conrad-Hansen? |
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Ok so at first I imagined "Impeach My Bush" to be some sort of crazed sexual innuendo on Peaches political beliefs, turns out to be little more than another tour de force of sexually explicit puns and double entendre. However, taking the lyrics out of the equation, although it would only halve the impact, "Impeach My Bush" is still probably electro-Queen Peaches most enjoyable and addictive release to date. The album hardly moves from the gritty electroclash spouted on her first two albums, yet the songs are somewhat better. Opening tracks such as Fuck Or Kill, Tent In Your Pants, Hit It Hard and the excellent Downtown (with assistance from Ladytron producer Mickey Petralia – and it shows) – all have achingly addictive choruses, with rock drumming from Hole drummer Samantha Maloney amidst heaps of cheap, dirty analogue riffs continually spewing Peaches metaphorical seed. The rock angle does widens Peaches scope when compared to most Electroclash artists, she’s more like a new wave version of Marilyn Manson, but her sonic impact is much more immediate and thankfully free of the preposterous imagery that Manson adopts – Peaches prefers to keep it nice and simple, standing virtually naked in her recording studio. In truth, I detect a slight political message behind "Impeach My Bush", but it’s not very intelligibly delivered – the kids will be too busy getting off on her lyrics, and any adults that are open-minded enough to buy this will already know what’s what in this world. Her political impact will be negligble, and her sexual impact even more negligible – she’s no Christina Aguilera that’s for sure, although I’m sure she’d prefer to make out with her rather than sound like her. At the end of the day, this album sees Peaches at the peak of her vulgar powers, with 13 songs of vibrant electro-rock, raving about threesomes, fistings and orgasms – but where can this predatory sex shark possibly go next? Her critics say she can't sing and she's vulgar– but that's also what they said about Madonna in 1983. Peaches does insist on writing and playing virtually all of her own material, so she’s in a better position than most popstars, but for now you’ll probably want to just sit back and enjoy this for what it is. |
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To the extent that "The Devil Wears Prada" is an actors' showcase and a sly send-up of the fashion industry, the film works brilliantly. It's the story that fails: thematically incoherent, too typical, and borderline hypocritical, its inadequacy hit me each time I took a break from enjoying the movie's surface pleasures and thought about what was going on. Fortunately, those surface pleasures are such that it hardly matters. Meryl Streep reigns over "The Devil Wears Prada" in much the same way her character rules the halls of the Runway Magazine offices. Every piece of withering sarcasm, every dismissive comment becomes a pointed and personal insult, an unambiguous assertion of the recipient's worthlessness. Watching Streep as the icy fashion goddess was more than sufficient to occupy me for 109 minutes. Also
the film adds Stanley Tucci as one of Priestly's most faithful employees.
Tucci is perfect, making his character a type without making him a stereotype.
Watching him sweep through the magazine's storehouse of designer clothes
to give Anne Hathaway's hapless Anna Sachs a makeover is hysterically
funny for reasons I can't quite comprehend. "We'll do this Dolce
for you! And we'll do this Gucci for you!" he asserts, throwing
the clothes at the poor girl without so much as looking in her direction. Anna's
personal journey, on the other hand, did not sell me. The premise of
the film is that Anna "sells her soul" -- abandons her friends,
her personality, her quirky way of dress, and becomes just another thoughtless,
self-absorbed fashionista. The movie insists on this; Anna's boyfriend
(a bored-looking Adrian Grenier) says so, her friends sneer at her,
she herself becomes despondent. But I didn't see this at all. She is
late a few times, yes; she is even late for her boyfriend's birthday,
but she runs in with a birthday candle cupcake in her hand. She changes
her clothes -- a requirement of her job. She remains nice, friendly,
and caring; she takes the initiative to bring her friends expensive
presents from the office. "What The Devil Wears Prada" does, in the end, is embrace to the shallowness that it seems to satirically condemn. It surrenders to the idea that the clothes its protagonist wears make her a different person. The Anna I saw wearing Gucci is the same Anna I saw wearing a debatably ugly blue sweater and plaid skirt -- perhaps more confident and composed, but no less (or more) pretty, ambitious and sweet. And so the third act, which forces on us Anna's journey of self-discovery, seems wrong. I realize that the film merely gives us the character arc that this sort of plot demands, but this particular story called for something else. If "The Devil Wears Prada" weren't so infectiously entertaining, it may have been regrettable. By Eugene Novikov |
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