//aquatictigerparty*
//aquatictigerparty*
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mossfull:

Nakeya Janice Brown, Sealing Ends- Part II, 2014
Bonnie Sherk | How to build a universe that doesn’t fall apart two days later | 2006-2007
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Had a blast photographing @sunabeats today for his upcoming EP with @colorstation_
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Soo dreamy…
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likeafieldmouse:

Anne Deleporte - I. D. Stack #6 (1992)
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theflagartfoundation:

Paul Laster: Let’s talk about some of your heroes that are celebrated in the show, starting historically with Marcel Duchamp. Why is he important to you and how would you explain the way that you are paying homage?Awol Erizku: Duchamp is the Master and Hammons is the Godfather. I find Duchamp important because I find Hammons very important. Duchamp and Hammons worked with found objects or everyday objects to create visual puns. In doing so, they ask the viewer to question the intention of the work. For example, Duchamp’s ready-mades shocked the art world, putting in question to whether these objects were even “art.” Hammons employs a similar technique of using found objects; but he also wants the viewer to question the connotations of these objects in the context of race and class. These themes are visible in many of my works in The Only Way Is Up. I pay homage to both artists, directly, in two different works. First, an installation of jerseys hanging on a rack, titled Duchamp, Marcel 1887; Simpson, Lorna, 1960; Outterbridge, John 1933; Hammons, David 1943; Judd, Donald 1928; Marshall, Kerry James 1955; Storr, Rob 1950; Wilson, Fred 1954; Prince, Richard 1949, 2014, which includes the last names of artists that have influenced me most silkscreened on the back of the shirts, in a similar motif of a sports jersey with the abbreviated year they were born.  I also silk screened canvases, Hammons, David 1943, 2014 and Duchamp, Marcel 1887, 2014 in the same sports jersey motif with the names and birth years of Duchamp and Hammons. This group of artists represents my “team,” from which I believe I have received the most influence and support. They are my idols and deserve recognition for what they have contributed to my artistic growth. Hammons was my window to Duchamp. Hammons made Duchamp really cool for me. Found objects and ready-mades are now a major part of my art practice. I walk around New York City looking for anything and everything that can be a part of my sculptures. I never go out with the intention of looking for something specific, but always recognize it when I see it. It is an intuitive process.
 
Text Excerpt: A portion of ‘Awol Erizku: The Only Way Is Up,’ an interview of  Awol Erizku by Paul Laster, published in Whitehot Magazine, July 2014. For the full article, click here,
Image Credits: Awol Erizku.Duchamp, Marcel 1887; Simpson, Lorna, 1960; Outterbridge, John 1933; Hammons, David 1943; Judd, Donald 1928; Marshall, Kerry James 1955; Storr, Rob 1950; Wilson, Fred 1954; Prince, Richard 1949, 2014. Mixed media with industrial pipe rod, and nine screenprinted shirts with Optilux 505 Direct Print Reflective Ink on wooden hangers, 38 x 83 x 15 inches, Edition of 3. Courtesy of the artist & Hasted Kraeutler, New York. The Only Way Is Up is on view at Hasted Kraeutler from June 19 and through August 15, 2014.For more information on this exhibition, click here. 
Erizku was recently included in DEEP END: Yale MFA Photography Thesis Exhibition, curated by Roe Ethridge, on view at the FLAG Art Foundation from June 5 – June 20, 2014. For information on DEEP END, click here.
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litquake:

The red thread of fate is an East Asian belief originating from Chinese legend and is also used in Japanese legend. According to this myth, the gods tie an invisible red string around the ankles of those that are destined to meet each other in a certain situation or help each other in a certain way. Often, in Japanese culture, it is thought to be tied around the little finger.
The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.
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officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.
officeofcultureanddesign:

ANARCHIST IMMERSION
We’re working on another book close to our Head of Design Kristian Henson’s heart. It’s an ode to his younger brother, Kevin, an anarcho-crust punk musician and artist who fell ill and was forced to move back to the Philippines for a long road to recovery. It fell upon Kristian to pack up his brother’s Los Angeles apartment which contained a huge and painstakingly organized record collection of rare anarcho punk music.
The process of getting his brother’s records in order was a journey of sorts that found its way into a full-scale editorial project, initially executed as a thesis for Kristian’s MFA at Yale School of Graphic Design. The book is entitled In Darkness.
This manly-brotherly love story plays out in restrained black and white, the colors of a punk record collection guerrilla printed in one color for economy’s sake. In Darkness never wallows melodramatically in the hardships that brothers have to face. Instead it explores their relationship obliquely, through the mise-en-scène—music, literature and imagery—of the anarchist movement. The book includes a catalogue of Kevin’s records (with reviews written by him), some samples of Kevin’s abstract black ink drawings and writings and a special typeface designed by Kristian. The story was so good we had to reprint it, Recto/ghetto style and slightly modified to include new material on the history & current practice of anarchism in the Philippines.
To this end, we’ve been doing some heavy immersion (i.e. totally hanging out) with anarchist collectives in Manila. We’ve visited several anarchist info shops, all solar-powered by the way. They are basically open libraries around which community events are planned. Everything from food drives to anti-government protests to permaculture, biogas & solar energy workshops to concerts and street debates and everything-for-free markets are held by these tiny info shops with band-like names. Etniko Bandido. Feral Crust. On Site. Unlike in other more “developed” countries, these libraries are part of the homes of their owners, whose struggle goes beyond sticking up for a set of socio-political ideals. Their struggle is to make ends meet, typhoons and poverty line be damned. On Site’s owner, Bas Umali—whose writing style is strong, succinct and extremely intellectual—-supports his wife and two kids with a tiny internet café. Cris de Vera of Etniko Bandido drives a tricycle. Mel Canonigo and Mika Sanchez, the couple that run Feral Crust’s community garden, squat a small concrete hut in the middle of a slum-area road, sustained by odd jobs here and there. And MAN are they well-read, each and every one of them.
One of the conclusions we’ve drawn is that The OCD’s format and activity is almost identical to these info shops, except for some discrepancies on political beliefs and economics. We also work out of a private residence, struggle to find funding (though definitely not as much as the info shop warriors), have a pride-and-joy library, publish niche market pamphlets and believe in taking matters into our own hands.
In the words of Bas Umali:
"They are those you can classify (loosely) as anarchists, anti-authoritarians and autonomous activists. Though united through common grounds in various issues, these activists have no single ideological line […] . The unifying theme for them would be the primacy of engaging in direct action to resolve problems, as well as a common distrust of the state, and a shared pessimism of rigid organizational structures. Activities of these groups are being carried out based on non-hierarchical, non-statist values."
So yeah. The OCD has always resisted labels such as activist, feminist, relationalist, curator, artist (to describe ourselves), non-profit organization, non-governmental organization and a long list of etceteras. So we can’t say we’re anarchists. But it does feel like these info shops we’ve met are run by our brothers and sisters, all struggling through permutations of the same darknesses, trying to get to some sort of light at the end of the tunnel. We’re an optimistic sort of family, though. We really do believe that (cliché) light is there, at the end of the dark. It’s been 5 days since the power went out at the office due to Typhoon Glenda, so excuse us if we wax metaphorical about darkness, surrounded by candlelight, chasing 3G.

Stoked for this.