Categories
Music

Ana Roxanne: an ambient experience

How niche genres are surviving in a hostile streaming-centric environment

Text and photography by Isaac Hodgson

The gig is about to start, and as the final woops are let out silence falls over London’s Corsica Studios. Ana Roxanne begins with a bassline no faster than 30bpm, and layers soft hums over each other. The crowd doesn’t dance or jump, they sway, and take the opportunity to relax in the sound. As she begins to sing, I start to realize how special this gig will be, and I’m completely lost in her sound.

For the next 45 minutes, Ana takes us on an ambient adventure with live mixing, vocals, piano, and guitar, all in their softest forms. She blends natural sounds of flowing water with heavenly twinkling synths to create a truly otherworldly atmosphere. Alongside her calming visuals of fireworks, stars, streetlights, and sunsets blur and ease us further into tranquillity.

It really was one of the most relaxing spaces I’ve ever experienced, and if you hadn’t guessed, totally different from a typical concert performance. It was quiet enough that I was worried my camera shutter might disturb the people around me. Apart from her own tracks, she beautifully covered songs by Sibylle Baier and Julee Cruise’s “The World Spins” (of Twin Peaks fame).

“They already don’t pay them a lot, do they?”

Ana’s London gig comes fresh off the heels of Spotify’s announcement that in 2024, they will stop paying artists for any tracks with under one thousand streams. This makes up around two-thirds of all music on Spotify, yet they have no reason to listen to them (it’s not as though they have been – this has been an ongoing struggle for years). Now, streams of songs from small artists will be monetized – only that the revenue earned through this will go to bigger artists. Fans of small musicians will be directly funding the big names, even if they never listen to them.

“They already don’t pay them a lot, do they?” asked Poppy, a fellow Ana fan when hearing this. The amount that artists have made per stream has been low for a long time, and currently sits at $0.003 per stream; clearly not enough for anyone to make a living on. But this feels like a final kick in the teeth for small artists, considering Spotify’s quarterly profits of over £56,000,000. They fail to support the majority of musicians on their platform and use the fact that they don’t pay them enough already as an excuse to take everything away.

This makes me wonder how artists like Ana, whose music fills such a niche category in the music industry, get a footing at all in the music scene. It upsets me to think of all the other more obscure musicians who cannot support themselves through their work, and the experiences like this that I’ll never get to see. How can artists gain recognition for their work without appealing to the mainstream? And is there an alternative to finding music through platforms that continue to refuse to support their creators?

I found Ana years ago, thanks to the wonderfully random YouTube algorithm (unfortunately another platform that doesn’t monetize smaller creators). Asking around the venue, most people found Ana through Spotify; “We rely on Spotify for its convenience”, says Dana. And I’m inclined to agree, it’s one of the most social, easy-to-use platforms for music, and its scarily good AI-assisted algorithms for recommendations only make it more addictive. She also agrees that Ana’s performance was incredibly relaxing: “I wish I was lying down in a planetarium or something”.

Watch a similar Ana Roxanne performance here

As I’m sure we’ve all been well reminded by our friends’ Instagram stories, Spotify wrapped has just come around, and more than ever the spotlight is on it as the go-to music service. Really it comes down to us, the consumers, to support independent music that we love and find smaller artists. Buying merch and using alternative platforms that pay their artists better (like Bandcamp) are both great ways to look after those you enjoy. Or, when possible, take a chance on a gig that might not fit the norm; if my experience at Ana’s is anything to go off, a smaller audience can create a really delightful, unique environment.

Categories
Art

Can performance art be immortalized?

The giants of the performance art world are growing away from their roots as we look back upon their works

Text and photography by Isaac Hodgson

Marina Abramović’s London takeover has been divisive, but regardless, unmissable. Advertisements of her retrospective exhibition and opera productions have covered my feed and streets for weeks, with a banner of her face adorning the Royal Academy’s building to top it off. With her extensive history of violent and controversial performances, fans may be upset with her complete lack of appearance at her show.

That said, there are performers present; artists trained in the “Marina Abramović method” recreating four of her pieces. Nudity, pain, and starvation are expected, problematic for an exhibition spanning multiple months. Whilst the performers rest, video works replace them, and during my visit two of four performances were supplemented this way. In an already overwhelming and expansive exhibition like this, I wasn’t overly displeased. Even so, I found myself wondering if the live performances would have been more moving and thinking of potential alternative presentations.

Besides the performance pieces, the retrospective is full of all things Marina. It walks you through a large portion of her life’s work with photos, videos, and sculptures, including pictures of the incredibly brutal Rhythm 0, wherein the public had full reign over her body and safety. A room filled with breathing and screams and heartbeats all intersecting follows as you are thrown into the centre of multiple video works. The essence of her work is palpable and quite literally screaming in your face. Later, interactive sculptures from her performances allow you to feel a hint of what she might (naturally these are mostly used for quick Instagram pics). But was this work as powerful as the performances individually, as they would have been shown originally?

Rhythm 0 installation at the Royal Academy of Arts, London

This question was as divisive as Marina’s work itself. In asking my fellow exhibition goers, some marked Rhythm 0 as the most impactful art piece they saw (which was primarily displayed photographically) whilst others thought the live performances were “most evocative” and thought “most people would agree”; “performance makes me more self-conscious, more present, and feels like you’re there”. No one mentioned the video works that replaced the performances, and I wonder if this would have been different had they been live. Something that united my group was their lack of need to see Marina herself. They figured “it’s the same art”, and whilst they “obviously would be interested in seeing her”, they were “not interested in the cult of the artist”.

Marina is at the centre of London right now, but this lack of performance doesn’t begin and end with her. Other great artists have been having their moment in the retrospective spotlight, like Tehching Hsieh’s exhibition in the Neue Nationalgallerie in Berlin, and Ana Mendieta’s growing posthumous recognition. In the case of Hseih, some of them are impossible to display; how can you exhibit someone staying outdoors for a whole year? His One Year Performance 1980-1981, wherein he photographed himself and punched a time clock every hour of every day, seems crafted for video. In the exhibition space, I felt overwhelmed and conscious of the time and consumption of the artwork. I heard the slide film video click and click with each hour of his life passing. It was incredibly moving, but it’s he’s not there with you.

One Year Performance 1980-1981 installation at the Neue Nationalgallerie, Berlin

Whilst it’s great to have growing recognition of performance art, which is too commonly thrown away as pretentious or humorous, this type of exhibition focuses on those who have already ‘made it’. To get the other side of the picture, I spoke to a young artist and curator Ivet Monova who recently exhibited a video of her performance alongside sculpture work at her exhibition Corpus Dilecti. “I do think people are getting more and more opportunities to do performance art and it’s not seen as this funny thing that people just try out”. However, the concept of reperformance doesn’t sit quite right with her. “Re-performing other artist’s work doesn’t then become that performance”.

Ivet’s sculpture on opening night: @ivetmonova (Instagram)

Referring to Marina’s new stage production which she acts in, Ivet tells me it was magical “because it’s her. But if it was done by anyone else, it would be completely different. It wouldn’t even mean that much to me.” Despite what the exhibition goers said, I think seeing her would elicit a spontaneous response – anyone of her calibre would.

And it’s not as though Marina herself is the biggest fan of reperformance – it’s just become a necessity as she has grown older. “Anything is better than not to be performed, the performance is a living form”, even if it’s slightly different from the original. “It’s better to live than it to be a reproduction in a photograph”, she told The NYT in 2013.

“That is video work. I don’t think that’s performance art”

Ivet admits, perhaps controversially, that she thinks a real performance “should only happen once”. The alternative then, for the ever-growing following of great performance artists, is video. But this in her eyes becomes something completely different from the original live rendition of a piece. Ivet’s artwork was not performed for an audience and was displayed in video format. “That is video work. I don’t think that’s performance art”.

Unfortunately, I’m inclined to agree with Ivet. In going to these retrospective shows, video work simply doesn’t ignite the same emotion in me as live performance has. You don’t lock eyes with the performer, you don’t feel the same energy from sharing the space, and there’s a distinct lack of consequence and surprise. The video work is collectively moving, it’s simply a different art form.

It’s great to have a record of Marina’s performances, and as much as I’d love to feel everything one of her performances would make me, I think it’s something that will never really happen. These are imitations of the real deal. “you cannot transfer the same energy”, Ivet says.

With all the attention on performance art now, and with these great artists having paved the way for the youth so well, maybe we should shift our focus to new ideas. It seems to me a perfect time to look towards the fresh and innovative youth, to recapture some of the excitement that performance art is loved for – back to its roots.

Categories
Fashion

Phoebe English: the go-to for stylish sustainablity

The UK-based fashion label continues to be the frontrunner for environmentally conscious clothing

Text and photography by Isaac Hodgson

Holiday shopping is not as fun as it once was. There’s an overwhelming amount of choice, and prices are hiking for the same low-quality high-street fashion. But Phoebe English’s new slowly designed capsule collection is here to help.

The collection is the perfect blend of festive yet wearable all year round boasting tasteful bright colours. This is because an estimated 7.8 million Brits will buy new outfits for the party season, many to be worn once. “Once you know the scale of how much we’re producing and how much we’re wasting, it’s really hard to design without that in mind”, says Phoebe. It features eight items created using upcycled clothing “such as t-shirts, dead stock plaid, occasional party wear, and dead stock wools”.

This jacket, dress, t-shirt, and bag all belong to the new collection.

Inside the pop-up shop on Shoreditch High St, free clothing repairs are being offered to encourage a more circular fashion environment. A small, friendly team of tailors are churning away on a sewing machine with a large assortment of scrap fabric and thread, ready to take on anything thrown at them. “Really the whole point of this was getting people enjoying wearing the clothes again” says Stephanie. “People come in and say I don’t like wearing it because my phone falls into the lining. It’s a quick fix, and then people enjoy it again without buying more”.

The sewing repair station

It seems all sorts has come through the shop. As I walked in, someone was working on an intricate lace red dress, by hand. “I’m surprised at how many people have been wearing stuff that’s really broken”.

Hand-sewn repairs

I’ve inherited my mum’s old jumper, which had a few battle scars after a few rough nights out (both mine and my mum’s!) and after just a few hours, they had it looking good as new.

Unfortunately, the repair stand can’t be around forever, and the wonderful tailors passed down some wisdom into how we can start repairing our own clothes at home: “there’s lots of YouTube videos, just buy yourself a needle and thread, start having a go, and then you kind of just learn out curiosity and trial and error”. Buttons seem to be a good place to begin!

“The whole idea of slow fashion is that they’re fitted to your dimensions. It makes things like these trousers more enjoyable for you to wear”. These trousers are not cheap – a pair will set you back £210. But with their timeless design, “traceable fabric” and knowledge that the makers “are being paid properly in right working conditions”, the investment becomes more and more appealing. And I can testify, they feel incredible.

So, I’ll have to live without my lovely bag until Christmas (I couldn’t help myself!) and I won’t get the instant gratification that high street shopping brings. But this is the way forward for a truly sustainable fashion industry and isn’t just a greenwashed slogan; I know that I will enjoy it for years to come, and I know it was made with a love for fashion hard to find elsewhere.

The Phoebe English x Maker’s Mark collection is available to purchase from the 16th to the 18th of November and arrives in time for a perfect Christmas present.