Interview: Lina Viktor Makes Otherworldly Paintings From Star Matter

The works in the artist’s new group show ‘Hyperion,’ during Frieze New York, are like Klimt canvases from another galaxy.
The Body Black (series in progress), 2016.

The Body Black (series in progress), 2016.

Untitled (in progress), 2016

Untitled (in progress), 2016

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At only 29, multidisciplinary artist Lina Viktor's ability to suck onlookers into a world — specifically her own — is enviable. Her signature baroque style fuses a minimal palette of blue, black, white, and 24-karat gold with a technique so ornately beautiful that it's easy to forget the rest of the color wheel exists. "I create boundaries so that I can explore infinitely within them. [It] sounds counter-intuitive but it's imperative," she says.

Viktor's opulent aesthetic is difficult to miss. During her brief, burgeoning career she's shown beside Andy Warhol, Takashi Murakami, and Jean-Michel Basquiat, and her works are currently on display in the Art of Jazz exhibition at The Cooper Gallery at Harvard University. Later this month, she'll then return to that space later for another show, The Woven Arc. Needless to say, she's extremely busy. Ahead of her new group show Hyperion — on display from May 6 to May 10, during Frieze New York — we caught up with the painter, sculptor, and performance artist to discuss the exhibition and how she's using cosmic materials to create otherworldly masterpieces.

Tell me about your upcoming group show, Hyperion. What can we expect? Hyperion is a group show exhibiting works from six London-based artists (I split my time between New York and London). All of the works are in conversation with the one another, but can also be viewed as isolated projects. All of the artists have very particular practices and crafts that are uniquely theirs, yet we all have a very similar viewpoint regarding the production and conceptual nature of our works. The exhibition will be introducing New York to Formationism — an artistic movement championed by fellow artists Walter & Zoniel, the curator Marine Tanguy, and myself.

What does "Hyperion" mean?The curator, Marine, named the show after a John Keats poem, and he titled it after the Greek myth. The myth goes that Hyperion was one the the twelve children of Gaia and Uranus, and along with his siblings, he overthrew the tyrannical rule of Uranus. In Keats' poem, Hyperion is left standing after all the gods have fallen. In this way Hyperion mimics the artist's (or poet's) role in today's society. As Klaus Biesenbach recently said, "in the wake of civilizations and societies, art is the only thing that remains."

How did you prepare for the show?

I worked — a lot and hard. It's always a mad dash to the finish line. I am exhibiting two large-scale sculptural paintings — an abstract and a portrait that are in conversation with one another.

Syzygy, 2015

Syzygy, 2015

How, if at all, does your upbringing and family inform your work? I grew up in Surrey and had the privilege of having a very unconventional education from ages 10 to 17. I went to an all-girls international Catholic boarding school in Kingston-Upon-Thames. From the age of 10, I was living pretty much alone in London — my parents had moved to Johannesburg and my sisters were both in school in the U.S. I will add that I chose to go to boarding school and was by no means forced (my mom hated the idea). I attended a very small school — only about 200 girls from 6th to 12th grade, but about 25 nationalities were represented throughout. Needless to say, I barely had any British or American friends. My best friends, who remain that till this day, were from Saudi Arabia, Taiwan, Finland, Mexico, Japan, and Korea.

It was surreal — living and working with young people from various cultural backgrounds and experiencing friendships that embraced and championed the differences and similarities. We spent three quarters of each year living together, so each friend became my family. It taught me how to respect all people from all backgrounds and allowed me to develop an inclusive and expansive worldview before I even understood what it meant to be a citizen of the world. Those formative years were the most important in my life — they formed me into the person I am today, and thus they directly inform the core subject matter within my work: transcendence.

Constellations I, 2016

Constellations I, 2016

What's the significance of your palette: blue, black, white, and 24-karat gold? Gold is a signifier of power and otherworldliness. Humans share a storied and rich history with gold — and each appropriation of gold since its discovery relates to the minds of the civilization using it. We currently use it as a form of commerce, a trading tool, a measurement of monetary wealth. The Ancient Egyptians, Mayans, Aztecs, Babylonians certainly didn't use it in this reductive way. Black and white are the extremities of the color spectrum — representing positive and negative space. Black contains within it all of the colors of the spectrum; it is the full absorption of light, while white is devoid of color; it is the full reflection of light. Majorelle blue, often referred to as Yves Klein Blue is likened to a void or an abyss, a color that overwhelms the senses. Together they create a powerful alchemy.

You paint and you sculpt and you use gold leaf. Are there other materials you'd eventually like to work with? I use gold because of its cosmic origins. Like all elements and metals, it was created during the death of the star and has traveled across the seas of the cosmos to miraculously be deposited on our little planet. Any other metals or elements I add to my palette in the future will share a similar tale — and that will be why I use it. I am experimenting with a few other metals presently, with an intention to counterbalance the indestructibility of gold with something that is more unstable — something that degrades or corrodes. I am also investigating meteors.

Viktor in her studio, LVXIX Atelier

Viktor in her studio, LVXIX Atelier

You've done a great deal of work with self-portraiture. What is it about that practice that keeps you inspired?

I don't really consider them to be self-portraits. It's my form and I use it as a vehicle to address the micro versus macro nature of the elements that make up life and our universe. The portraits are about abstraction, disidentification, transformation. I use myself because I am always present and it is a performance. But I feel no particular affinity or ownership over the final image as it is not about me or "self." Different bodies of work are about different aspects of these motifs. The new black and gold series [in Hyperion] entitled The Body Black: Iron, Gold, Etheris about the unity on an elemental or subatomic level between our form, our bodies and the greater universe — the oneness of it all. We are all made up of the same elements; we are simply star matter.

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How "The Craft" Empowered A Generation Of Teen Misfits

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In the realm of female-driven teen movies, one trope is certain: boys will be boys. And so often, they lie at the center of every cinematic plotline. This usually means the girls who love them will fight tooth, nail, and often one another to win their love and affection — by any means necessary.

As teens and tweens watching these films, our impressionable young brains absorbed makeover montages that successfully helped wallflowers nab star quarterbacks. And we were forced to ponder crucial questions like: does my crush even know I exist? According to Hollywood, a young girl's problems are usually frivolous and typically revolve around the male gaze.

All that was momentarily quelled in 1996 with a little film called The Craft. Directed and co-written by Andrew Fleming, it embodied everything its silver screen contemporaries didn't. Its heroines — Sarah Bailey (Robin Tunney), Nancy Downs (Fairuza Balk), Bonnie Daniels (Neve Campbell), and Rochelle Gordon (Rachel True) — didn't have shiny hair or dream of making the pep squad. The words "prom date" were never mentioned. And the best part? They were WITCHES, and Nancy was their misanthropic ringleader with an "unfuckwitable" reputation. By all accounts, the girls possessed some element that made them, at least by conventional standards, unlikable.

The story begins when misfit protagonist Sarah moves from San Francisco to Los Angeles with her dad and stepmom. During her first day at St. Benedict's Academy, she casually performs a trick while sitting in the back of French class. Her classmate, Bonnie, witnesses the magic and decides that Sarah is the final recruit needed to complete her, Nancy, and Rachel's coven. Naturally, alpha witch Nancy is skeptical, though she eventually comes around. That same day, Sarah is also identified as fresh meat by the popular Chris Hooker (Skeet Ulrich). He flirts, she gives in, and a mutual crush evolves. How's that for a first day at a new school?

For the majority of the film, the girls bond. While most female-centric high school films involve a trip to the mall, the "Bitches of Eastwick" (as they're affectionately called by classmates) buy spell books, crystals, and candles from the local occult shop. They expose their vulnerabilities, perform spells together, and become stronger as a group — and their sisterhood is empowering to see.

Since she was a child, Bonnie has had scars from third-degree burns across her back, and struggled with extreme insecurity. Rochelle is the only African American girl in the school, which makes her an easy target for the racist bullying of Laura Lizzie (Christine Taylor), an archetype popular girl. As for Sarah, her mother died during childbirth and her guilt nearly got the best of her during an attempt to take her own life. At age 16, she's suicidal, depressed, and confused about her natural powers as a witch. Meanwhile, Nancy's problems are at home: her relationship with her mother is strained due to a hatred of her stepfather. Football star Chris is also a source of stress; they've secretly been hooking up and he's given her an STD. Not your run-of-the-mill teen movie stuff.

 

Admittedly, while watching the film again this week I felt some pangs of annoyance. For example, in clichéd female relationship fashion, the three girls eventually turn on Sarah, leaving her to literally fight for herself (and realize her own independent strength). Because, you know, girls just can't get along for long periods of time. And while he's not the center of the story, Chris, a guy, is used to push the narrative forward. But Fleming gives us enough good stuff to ruminate over.

For the majority of the film, what you see is a group of girls uniting in a world that would rather see them cast aside as freaks. For teen girls of a certain ilk, The Craft made a bold declaration: don't conform. In fact, stay weird. One of the film's most iconic scenes happens while the foursome exits a bus in the middle of nowhere. Before closing the doors the driver, in a very fatherly tone, says, "You girls watch out for those weirdos." To which Nancy replies, "We are the weirdos, mister." That simple phrase, coming from the film's fiery antagonist, meant something. It meant these girls were in charge and to be feared. They were aware of their power — even the non-supernatural kind.

The Craft can be heavy and overly dramatic at times (like when a committed Fairuza Balk really just goes for it in the asylum). But the issues it explores represent the breadth of problems teen girls face. Rape, racism, social hierarchies, slut-shaming, and body-shaming are all thrown in the pot. Young female characters like these, with real-life problems extending beyond the walls of high school and puberty, are rarely depicted on screen. And watching a film in which female friendship, instead of just romance, was placed front and center was a revelation. Today, as the film celebrates its 20th anniversary, it's still a revelation.

The Craft is not perfect, but it gave the girls who failed to fit in hope that they weren't alone. Years later, the film still stands out amongst the most celebrated teen classics of the time, likeClueless, Scream, and Can't Hardly Wait. Even the wardrobe — Catholic school uniforms, pink berets, polos, and deep-brown lipstick — is the stuff 90s grunge was made of. It's easy to look back on the era and see that aesthetic as a staple, but this film solidified the look, making it — and its accompanying badass attitude — iconic.

As a Black girl attending a predominantly white junior high school, it was therapeutic, too, for me to see another African American girl — who also wore chokers and had natural hair — on screen. I still remember watching The Craft on opening day, sitting in a packed theater, sharing popcorn and candy with friends. Me with my unruly hair and Anne Rice-inspired cameo necklaces; Linda, another minor, who'd somehow managed to get her tongue pierced at Claire's; CeeCee with a passion for Hot Topic (before it went mainstream). We left the theater confidently that evening. We spontaneously chanted, "Light as a feather, stiff as a board" while passing one another between classes for years to come. Compared to our cookie-cutter peers, we were the weirdos. Though, whether it was kismet or black magic that brought us together is debatable.

Interview: Pat Cleveland Revisits 5 Extraordinary Decades In Fashion

She lit up Studio 54, played golf with Jackie Robinson, and inspired a generation of iconic American designers. Trailblazing supermodel Pat Cleveland talks to i-D about her new memoir, “Walking with the Muses.”
Pat in a pool in Milan for Linea Italia, by Gian Paolo Barbieri.

Pat in a pool in Milan for Linea Italia, by Gian Paolo Barbieri.

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Iconic supermodel Pat Cleveland isn't particularly thrilled about today's chilly late-May weather, but she's enjoying the pretty blue flowers sitting between us. "These freesias are beautiful! Aren't they beautiful?" She leans in to smell them, touching the petals and closing her eyes. "Oh, that's really nice. We need some freesias in the house," she says, glancing in her husband Paul's direction.

At 65, Cleveland has documented her life for nearly five decades — in diary entries, agendas, photographs, and drawings — and now she's clutching the condensed hardcover version to her chest: her new memoir, Walking with the Muses. "I still gotta smell it, I didn't lick it yet!" she jokes, re-examining the dust jacket. "I can't believe it. It's like a dream come true. I've been writing everything down since I was 16."

The book is packed with astonishing stories. How is it possible that one human rubbed shoulders with so many legends before she was 18 years old? It's one thing to meet icons, it's something else entirely to have them co-star in so many of your life's stories.

With Stephen Burrows, 1970, in one of the designer's "lettuce dresses."

With Stephen Burrows, 1970, in one of the designer's "lettuce dresses."

With Stephen Burrows, 1970, in one of the designer's "lettuce dresses"

Perhaps it's hereditary. After all, Cleveland's mother — artist and woman about town Lady Bird Cleveland — picked blueberries with Helen Keller and was friends with Eartha Kitt and a bevy of other famous Harlemites during the neighborhood's golden era. Lady Bird's daughter, with her spindly limbs and wide eyes, couldn't have had a conventional life if she'd tried. Her early years were punctuated by book-worthy encounters. She played golf with Jackie Robinson at nine years old, witnessed Bill Cosby's dark side first-hand, and fell in love with Kenneth Eckstine, the model turned "Zelig of homeless people."

Even Muhammad Ali vied for the then 16-year-old's affection. There's a photo of a frosty-eyed Cleveland and boisterous-looking Ali sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on a bus to prove it. And that's how the book goes: story after amazing story, about icons like Halston and Karl Lagerfeld, accompanied by colorful photographs that seem to preempt the reader's every "How is this real?". Had Instagram been around circa 1970, Cleveland would've given Gigi Hadid a run for her money.

Muhammad Ali and a teenage Pat.

Muhammad Ali and a teenage Pat.

Then again, despite Cleveland's youthful energy and free spirit, she maintains a degree of reserve. Posturing on social media might not have been her thing. When her career was taking off, as a "young kid at fancy parties," she opted for ginger ales instead of champagne. And this was at the height of the coke era, a culture that her Halston-led Studio 54 crowd found difficult to resist. "It all comes from your training when you're young as to what you do and don't do. There's a lot of temptations, but [I would] always hear mama's voice saying, 'Now wait a minute, what are you doing?" She admits to raising both of her kids, model Anna Cleveland and son Noel, in the same fashion in which her single mother raised her. That's not to say Pat never had any fun (quite the opposite), she just never let it sweep her away for too long.

See Pat and her daughter Anna in i-D's 2005 The Feminist Issue.

And it wasn't always about resisting. She gave in to her heart on more than one occasion. "For me, love has gone through so many different changes. And being a female and experiencing life as a female was something that I thought was important for the book," she says. "I love men. I think they're wonderful play toys. They have wonderful equipment and you can enjoy them," she says, laughing. ("Thank you for that," says her husband, Paul, from across the room.)

With Diana Ross, 1977, on the set of The Wiz.

With Diana Ross, 1977, on the set of The Wiz.

Cleveland is known for many things, most notably for bringing unconventional movement and character to the snoozy, runways of a bygone era. Because, never in her 50-year career has Pat Cleveland just walked deadpan down a catwalk; she has danced down them. The stone-faced model archetype is the antithesis of what she stands for. Once upon a time the word "supermodel" was reserved for the women with staying power; the industry supremes who doubled as muses to designers and inspired entire collections. "Pat" (no last name) was one of them. She was also one of the first African-American models to gain super status, paving the way for models like Jourdan Dunn and Naomi Campbell. And best of all, she did it her way, theatrics and all.

"I've been in this business for 50 years and I think holding on to something that's beautiful for so long in your life is a challenge. People change, times change, demands change. Fortunately I've been able to go along with the stream of it. I do think if you have a certain character you can meet certain people," she says. "We're all learning to love ourselves. If you're not loved within something you do, you wither. You need water," she continues, while looking sternly at the freesias on the table again, "You need people to water you."

"Walking with the Muses," is out on June 14, 2016.

 

Beyoncé's "Formation" Is The Black-Is-Beautiful Anthem I Needed

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Audre Lorde said it best, "If we do not define ourselves for ourselves, we will be defined by others."

Well, on Saturday, Beyoncé did exactly that: She defined herself and every ounce of her Blackness with the video “Formation.” My plans to do responsible adult things like laundry and taxes suddenly fell away. Everything I had thought to do that afternoon was laid to rest as a barrage of text messages flooded my phone. Most came formatted in ALL CAPS excitement — all of them were written in the language of “YASSSSS!” Never had I felt such urgency to respond to texts about…a music video.

Why were we so damn excited? Why were we GETTING OUR ENTIRE LIVES? Because lately, being Black — particularly a Black woman — is exhausting. Especially on the internet. I can’t read a comment section without seeing Black women being called n-----s, being slut-shamed, or being compared to primates. And this is just the trivial stuff.

The beauty of “Formation” is how proudly unsubtle it is. The moment it opens, we hear NOLA legend Messy Mya ask, “What happened after New Orleans?” — an obvious reference to Hurricane Katrina. (The answer to that question is actually quite heartbreaking). The director of "Formation," Melina Matsoukas, then takes us on a fantastic voyage through a gritty New Orleans, with Beyoncé as our guide.

One of the most symbolic moments arrives early on, showing a buttoned-up Bey perched on top of a car. Except, it’s not just any run-of-the-mill sedan. Oh, no. It’s a cop car partially submerged in water. That opening scene reminded me a little of Kendrick Lamar’s 2015 black-and-white masterpiece, "Alright," in which young kids dance atop an abandoned police vehicle. Yet this version felt much heavier. Spoiler alert: In the end, the car sinks, and Beyoncé, splayed across its rooftop, goes with it. The image of her drowning along with the car is powerful. More than 1,800 innocent lives were lost during Hurricane Katrina. Most of those lives could've been saved. If the system doesn't change, we'll continue to sink down with it.

And then, she begins to sing:

Y'all haters corny with that illuminati mess

Paparazzi, catch my fly, and my cocky fresh.

So no, this is not going to be a “We Are the World”-style anthem about police brutality and #BlackLivesMatter. This is Queen Bey, and as she has so many times before, she came to show out. If you love her, you appreciate it. If you don’t, by now, you’ve clicked the exit button. Buh-bye.

At first listen, these lyrics are about Beyoncé. However, for many of us who played the track on repeat Saturday afternoon, we started to realize the lyrics are about the roots of Black-American women:

My daddy Alabama, Momma Louisiana

You mix that negro with that Creole make a Texas bama

I like my baby hair, with baby hair and afros

I like my negro nose with Jackson Five nostrils

Earned all this money but they never take the country out me.

Blue Ivy Carter makes an adorable appearance with baby hair and an afro, hand on hip, smiling confidently at the camera.

And then, just when you think the song can’t feel any more righteous, she goes for the jugular:

I got hot sauce in my bag, swag.

(Faints. Kidding! Just gonna leave this iconic reference to hot sauce right here, though.)

Scene after scene, this video reminded me, my friends, and countless others that our lives and culture matter. The most empowering part of the video is seeing a group of Black women working as a unit in a “formation.” They move together in sync as one, in a manner often seen in big band performances at HBCUs. It’s beautiful. The video is absolutely an homage to Black lives.

February 5 was Trayvon Martin’s birthday, and Sandra Bland would have turned 29 yesterday, the day of Super Bowl 50. It's no coincidence that this song was released during Black history month. And in case there were any question about the message, Beyoncé and her #BlackGirlMagic army performed in Black Panther-inspired regalia for 111.9 million viewers in Santa Clara, CA. That says it all.

Few artists have achieved such a high level of fame while remaining an enigma. If Beyoncé is trending on social media, it’s because she’s dropped an album or a song; not because she’s made the news for tweeting various nonsense to her ex. She’s landed Vogue covers with no accompanying interview inside. Who does that?

Beyoncé’s cocky, unabashed declaration of self-love in her music is not to be taken lightly. Love her or hate her, in an environment that constantly tells women what they can and cannot do, how they should and shouldn’t act, seeing one of our own beat the odds — over and over and over — is forever inspiring. And actually seeing a Black woman peacock for the world? It's beyond inspiring. It’s #SelfGoals.

When I was in my late 20s, advice like “be yourself” and “own it” unfortunately did nothing for me. Those declarations were stripped down to meaningless platitudes by the time I landed my first job, and my boss asked me if I ever straighten my hair. I have bills and student loans. If I’m myself, I just may not get a job, and that’s what the world has told Black women forever, really. The older I get, the more I need to be reminded to forget all that noise and be me. And I need creative ways to help the message sink in. By now, as a Black woman, I’ve learned to navigate the world and shield myself from awkward conversations about my hair and the food I eat with an unconscious ability to code-switch.

What Beyoncé is telling me — telling all of us, really — is to be our entire selves. Don’t embrace the nuances of your culture behind closed doors, put it on full display. Bring your lunch to work and don’t forget the hot sauce.

"Formation" is a Black anthem for Black women. It's a rallying cry sent from Queen Bey to the masses, and it reminds us that, just as it was in the '60s, Black is — and forever will be — beautiful.