BRUJAS In Conversation

So to catch us up, what issue does Bring Down The Walls respond to?

The reliance on incarceration for social order under capitalism.

Creative Time is an awesome non-profit, how did they approach Brujas to be a part of this?

So we have a reputation of being an anti-carceral organization because of our project called 1971 which was our first successful collection, where all the proceeds after costs went to materially support prisoners and people facing criminalization in New York state. Creative Time approached us through our good friends at Mask Magazine, an anarchist lifestyle magazine based in Brooklyn. We began talking with Creative Time about our collection coming out named “SEIZE BELLEVUE” which is about the carceral nature of psychiatric care. The idea behind the line came from a conversation between BRUJAS as a group about addressing the three main institutions/structures of domination in society: the school, the prison and the asylum which later became ... the clinic or psychiatric facility. So that is what is really linking us to this concept of “bringing down the walls”. SEIZE BELLEVUE brings a unique perspective to this Creative Time project because it asserts that mental health crisis system is apart of the cycle of incarceration, is a form of incarceration. So we actually have an extremely special timing with this collection coming out, it's basically the exact same time as our project with Creative Time.

You note that the emergence of house music coincides with rising rates of incarceration?

House Music is a Black art form. I would say that the origins of house music are Black. It comes from blues which is about slavery and incarceration and it’s an extension of the blues. I've always understood the way blues has extended itself into every Black American art form and I think it's just super evident.

What role does music play in freeing people?

I mean it's hard to say. When you're in jail (well prisons that I've visited or what I know of jail) you have your headset, your radio. Even in hospitals, the lack of physical sharing and sound in incarceration is very much intentional because it’s something that allows you to emote in ways that words can’t. I mean it combines words and lyrics and such. But I don’t know it’s such a hard question. Music is like everything. Donny Hathaway has that song “Everything is Everything” You know that song? Yea, music is literally everything when it comes to people’s ability to communicate emotionally.

You're working with Creative Time, Phil Collins, Prison-to-College Pipeline (P2CP) What is the importance of partnering in dealing with such pressing issues as mass incarceration?

Yea so building coalitions is the political tactic that we employ. So obviously if our tactic is coalition, working with other groups who maybe don't have the exact same tactic but similar ideas about what a better humanity looks like, is really important to do. We have a bail fund and take a very strong stance against mass incarceration but our particular involvement in this is to contribute to the conversation by expanding our understanding of incarceration: it's not just in prison. You know also understand how it exists within schools, how it exists in hospitals and these institutional surveillance structures. That's exactly why it's important to participate in conversations with other groups because our contribution to the conversation in this particular moment is about people not understanding incarceration. We have used the term “open-air prison” before. We can’t just look at prison as the only place where bodies are controlled and their liberties are being taken away and injustices are being served and like racism is alive and slavery is alive. There's the same kind of ideology present in so many institutions that are by-products of a cultural state. The internet and like social media, like data mining, seems to be arising as one of the stronger institutions of discipline and surveillance. And I would argue that were gearing towards the internet as a carceral apparatus as well. Which is why it's so important for us to create those relationships with press outlets like office and pair with organizations like Creative Time because we want in real space, communication on ideology. We don't want to just blog stuff on instagram, or make a caption on Tumblr. This is all about creating a realtime space for expressing these ideas, so it's all very very connected and intentional on our end.

What do you want people to take away from this?

I want them to support BRUJAS as a design house AND a political organization. I want them to buy BRUJAS. I think that we are some of the most hard working designers In New York City right now and we just don’t get the same kind of material support that brands like Urban Outfitters receive, who steal our ideas and aesthetic for their corporate benefit. So it’s just a real time and space issue. We’re all New York City kids, predominantly of color and queer, under 26 years old in complete control of the influence that we have on other major brands, just be representing our own ideas! I also want them to take away a new idea about mental health. Like I said SEIZE BELLEVUE is about psych self-determination for marginalized people: black and brown kids, queer and gender nonconforming kids, and kids from New York City. Our project calls for compassion for those who suffer from mental illness. And that is such a huge part of our cultural ideological fabric: how people are crazy or how people don’t fit in and THEY lock US up. That’s the same ideology the people in prison face.

Is there anything else you want to say about Brujas or the event?

BRUJAS brings our best work to the table with SEIZE BELLEVUE. It may be the first time that you will be able to really digest what we’ve created in person because you can see and touch the products: our handmade garments. It's gonna be such an amazing experience for everyone who attends, to actually be able to live and breathe the work that we have been producing over the last six months. Performance art, original handheld costumes, a 360 degree virtual reality video. You know how streetwear brands always drop a collection every spring and summer, well this isn’t just a collection: its performance art, its critical and analytical thinking, its fashion. It’s the most exciting thing we’ve ever worked on.

Located at Firehouse, Engine Company 31, a historic, decommissioned fire station in Lower Manhattan, Bring Down The Walls will be free and open to the public each Saturday in May.

Culture

The Club Is Coming to the Stage

We enter and make our way to what is approximately front left of the DJ booth, where we’re accustomed to dancing at clubs in New York. “So is this a techno club or a dance performance?” yells an uncertain participant in my boyfriend’s ear. He laughs, bouncing along to Ben UFO, and yells back, “It’s both!” The club has long been a hot topic in European contemporary dance but it is only now making its way into New York performance venues, largely through transatlantic tours. R.O.S.E. follows recent examples like Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1 (May 2024), (LA)HORDE’s Room with a View at NYU Skirball (October 2023), and Gisèle Vienne’s Crowd at BAM (October 2022).

Do these performances compromise the club’s spirit — a space idealized for its anonymity, dark lighting, and thundering music? The notion of the club as a utopian escape is admittedly just that — an ideal — because of how its intense conditions can create barriers to entry. Still, the club remains sacred for many, a place to forge connections and embrace an alternative state of being. Looking at how performances transfer this spirit to new settings reveals what aspects of the club are essential and those that aren’t.

Sharon Eyal, R.O.S.E. 2024. Photography by Stephanie Berger, courtesy of Park Avenue Armory.

Eyal’s dancers make their entrance. The lighting shifts from roving blue to yellow spotlights as Ben UFO’s tracks transition to more melodic beats. Clad in deconstructed lace Dior lingerie with dark red tears painted on their faces, the dancers move cautiously in a tightly maintained pack, slicing paths through the horde with hoof-like steps and jerky leg extensions. After around ten minutes of this controlled choreography, the dancers vanish as the lighting shifts back to blue and Ben UFO picks up his dubby beats. The club, as we knew it, resumes. This cycle of tightly executed movements and free-flowing club-goers repeats several times, each time emboldening the dancers to plunge further into the crowd.

Clubbing in a building once built for the U.S. Army National Guard on Manhattan’s Upper East Side turns out to be surprisingly successful — at least for the audience. What starts as an awkward, scattered group searching for their non existent seats gradually gels into an engaged, bouncing crowd that erupts in cheers each time the dancers enter and exit. Performance patrons who might never step foot in a club find themselves swept up in its potential for communion, moving in unison with fellow ticket holders. But it isn’t until the very end of R.O.S.E. that the dancers finally break free from Eyal’s choreography and join the fired-up audience in a brief moment of improvisatory movement with the music. By keeping her dancers at arm’s length, Eyal seems more interested in the club as a backdrop for her signature movement style than wholly as a space with meaningful stories to be told.

Michele Rizzo, HIGHER xtn. 2024. Photography by Cameron Kelly courtesy of MoMA PS1.

Back in May, I attended Wire Festival, a multiday electronic music event at Knockdown Center that had no shortage of organically united dancefloors. It attracted a crowd of seasoned ravers who were eager to celebrate the start of spring as they danced alongside DJs who played well into the daylight. I left Wire in an afternoon daze to see Michele Rizzo’s HIGHER xtn. at MoMA PS1. My sleepless euphoria only deepened as the performance unfolded, starting with a lone dancer who looked plucked out of the festival.

The dancer, dressed in sneakers, baggy jeans, and a tight tank top, shuffled slowly into the gallery, perfectly in sync with the looping bars of an understated electronic melody. Soon, other dancers, clad in the same staple rave uniform, joined him — each having traveled from Europe for the U.S. museum debut of HIGHER xtn., which premiered at the Stedelijk in Amsterdam in 2018 and quickly became a fixture at kunsthalles and festivals across the continent. As the score’s tempo climbed, the choreography locked into a 16-count sequence, which the dancers executed with precise synchrony. They remained intensely focused, never making eye contact with each other, as they sought release in the endless repetition of synthesized beats. Once the dancers reached their limit, they stopped the sequence and exited the gallery, one by one.

HIGHER xtn. used the focused daylight of the gallery to highlight the meditative release found in the repetitive movements that dominate dark dancefloors. The performance’s restraint brought more consistency and intentionality than Eyal’s all-encompassing club construction in R.O.S.E. Yet both performances offer enticing entry points into club culture for those who may not frequent raves. Rizzo’s ecstatic, hypnotic repetitions reveal how the club can mirror other meditative practices, while Eyal’s interpolation of performance and clubbing helped hesitant audience members blossom by the end. Still, both works overlook one of the most underappreciated aspects of clubbing — its potential for individual expression. HIGHER xtn.’s pristine uniformity especially risks promoting the outdated techno trope that there’s a “right” way to dance to electronic music.

Maybe this shortcoming is, in fact, a benefit. For habitual ravers jaded by one too many sunrise sets, it’s a reminder to return to the club with more intention. If you pause and peer through the darkness, you’ll see hundreds of people moving to the same beat, each with their own subtle variations. This collective choreography is a ready-made spectacle that doesn’t need validation in a theater or museum. And when the music shifts slightly, you can watch the ripple effect sweep through the crowd while feeling the new beat in your body. Maybe this small bit of magic is best left on the dance floor.

Culture

Real Slick, Jack: Psyche Organic Arrives in New York

Shop Psyche Organic at Happier Grocery and Dimes. Coming soon to @citarellagourmetmarket @unionmarket @gourmetgarage @deciccos @fairwaymarket plus many more.

Culture

Porsche SCOPES Brings Art, Music, and Design to Toronto

The festival was a full immersion into Toronto’s dynamic creative energy. Day one set the tone with DJ collective Living Room, followed by an experimental performance by Claire Rousay that captivated the crowd. Jewelry designer Steff Eleoff unveiled her Porsche Taycan 4S art car installation—a bold fusion of automotive and wearable art inspired by her Sedona ring—while OVO Sound’s Naomi Sharon and DVSN wrapped up the night with powerful, genre-defying performances.

We witnessed SCOPES Toronto bridging underground and mainstream with day two’s lineup. DJ Korea Town Acid’s set paved the way for Angelphroot and Dameer’s debut of BASSMATI, a track blending South Asian influences with bass-driven sounds. Chippy Nonstop’s return to Toronto and Richie Hawtin’s extended set were milestones of the evening, proving that the city’s underground scene has a global resonance.

The final day featured standout performances from local pianist Harrison, Indigenous artist Tia Wood, and hip-hop visionary Sean Leon, who elevated his set with a live choir. Moonshine Collective’s film and musical performance explored themes of African utopia, showcasing art’s power to bridge culture and technology. Rising Toronto star SadBoi, who paused her tour to perform at SCOPES, further underscored the festival’s commitment to nurturing local talent.

Throughout the weekend, we experienced installations from artists like Mitsu Mitsu and culinary creations from Bar Mordecai, capturing the multifaceted creativity Porsche SCOPES brought to Toronto. This milestone 10th edition, open to all, allowed Toronto’s vibrant arts scene to thrive, underscoring SCOPES’ mission to celebrate local talent while connecting it to a global audience.

office had the chance to connect with rising star SadBoi ahead of the event. In our conversation, she shared insights into her creative journey and reflected on what performing and growing up in Toronto means to her and her work.

How are you, and where are you at right now? You told me you were traveling.

Um, I’m good, I’m feeling really good right now. I’m traveling back to Salt Lake City. I had a show yesterday in Seattle. I’m on tour right now with Coco and Claire.

How is touring life treating you? Do you like it?

I love being on the road. To be honest, I feel like I don’t know—like I’ve had good experiences and bad ones—but this time it’s really fun, especially with the people I’m surrounded by. It’s also the longest tour I’ve been on; I have about four more weeks to go. I’m trying not to think about how many days I have left.

Do you feel homesick?

Yes, because when I start thinking about how many days are left, I start to miss my dogs. I’ve just been trying to stay in the moment—I don’t even know what day of the week it is, to be honest with you.

Oh, sweet! What are your dogs’ names?

Jillian and Winston. I know, they’re crazy names.

You’ll be performing at SCOPES in Toronto, which is where you grew up. Do you feel like the crowd is different when you perform in Toronto compared to other cities?

Yes, I mean, Toronto just feels different because it’s home. Every time I come back to perform, something in my career has changed. The last time I performed in Toronto, people just wanted to have a good time, and I’m excited to perform back home again to see everyone’s reactions. I know it’s going to be different from the last time. It’s exciting to see your own growth. Toronto is a tough crowd, though. If we’re with you, we’re really with you.

So, they’re super picky? You have to gain their respect, or what is it?

I think Toronto people are in their own world, but when something really connects with them, they’ll lose themselves in the moment. But it takes something to bring them out of that. Toronto crowds are tough because even if they like you, they won’t show it outright until they’re really vibing with you.

It’s like a vibe check, right?

Exactly. They’ll enjoy your performance, but it’s hard to explain. When people visit Toronto, they often say, “Oh, you guys are so nice,” and I’m like, “I don’t think we’re that nice, we’re just polite.” Like, you can walk down the street, and no one will say anything, but it’s just our mannerisms.

You mentioned Toronto can have a moody energy, especially at night, and that the underground night scene there really inspires you. Can you talk more about what makes Toronto's nightlife so influential for you?

Absolutely, Toronto has this unique energy that comes alive at night. Similar to New York, there are the popular clubs everyone knows, but you need to find your niche—the people who know where the real parties are. I remember going to raves in high school yards, sneaking in because I wasn’t old enough. Events like Baby, Jerk!, and Yes Yes Y’all were pivotal, exposing me to DJs blending dancehall with EDM—something I hadn’t seen before. Toronto nightlife is moody and intense, but when everyone’s out, it’s like the whole city is alive.