Far to Near, and Back Again

What does Far-Near mean to you?

Regarding the name: this book series is intended to broaden our perspectives of Asia. I really wanted to showcase the vast and various areas of creativity across the Asian continent. From the Far East to Middle, South, Central, and Near East—the goal is to broaden the notion of what Asian culture is, and reduce the sense of otherness put on Asia. Hence, the direction of Far to Near: bringing things closer to home.

Why did you choose print?

In print, the content, and the creatives, have a permanent place in the cultural discussion. While we do supplement the printed book with online content, those pieces are more time sensitive. The work in the book is meant to be everlasting; more concrete explorations.

What was like growing up in New York; and how did being biracial shape your voice?

A melting pot. I grew up with my father, who is Italian from the Bronx, but he is very eclectic. So I explored many different spiritual groups as a child—going to meditation every week at Indian spiritual groups, as well as Korean Daoist meetings, for example. It opened me up to being interested in seeing our similarities, and differences, across cultures. However, I was not brought up with the Asian side of my heritage; but I always identified with it because physically, I look very asian. Ariana, my features editor, and I, both embraced, and searched, for any form of Asian culture we could absorb throughout the city. Whether it be through manga, dim sum in Chinatown, or karaoke in K Town, we felt an urge to learn more about Asian culture, since we didn’t have a direct connection with it. I feel like this has bled into my work now: as this part insider—part outsider experience has helped me see what might be missing in the arts, fashion, cultural industries, regarding representation; also, how Asians value their own work, or what outlets they have to express themselves.

Can you describe the relationship between Taste and Distaste?

It’s all based on perception. What tastes good to one person could taste bad to another. What looks beautiful to one might look tacky, or hideous, to another. Why is that? Where does that preference, or perception of good and bad come from? I found it very interesting to work with artists who chose to focus on seemingly disgusting things, like irradiated mushrooms, or spam, or bootleg items, but present them in such beautiful ways that you change your idea of what is tasteful.

Do you believe in ghosts? If so, what do they look like?

I think they are us, in a limbo between life and death. In Tibetan Buddhism, they call these stages, “Bardos”. I think ghosts are usually in this in between state, unsure of where to go, or what steps they should take. Maybe they’re still too concerned, or attached to their lives, and need to be satiated.

What is the most interesting thing you’ve read recently?

I’ve been reading a book by Mingyur Rinpoche, a Tibetan Buddhist. In his 30s, Rinpoche left the monastery to give up everything to become a beggar. He wanted to remove himself from his identity, but he admits how difficult that truly is, even if your whole life is dedicated to doing just that. In reality, as much as we try to label others, and ourselves, we are only fitting ourselves into impermanent boxes. If we explore the possibility of change, or the obtuse and subjective idea of culture, we realize none of it is as permanent or factual, as it seems. One day your identity could be perceived differently, or completely change.

What do you listen to when you’re alone?

Sometimes when I’m feeling melancholy, I listen to a lot of George Michael, and The Carpenters. When I want to have fun, I’ll listen to Italo disco, or trap music. Recently, I’ve been really into this indie artist/composer: Mica Levi.

What is the origin of Movement? How did humans learn to move with expression?

I read this book once, though I can’t remember which book anymore, that states, “all animals move to survive, forward and backward, with a purpose to search for food, find shelter, etc. The only thing humans can do without purpose, that only humans do, is dance.” I think dancing is a form of expression: it’s either about letting go, or controlling your body. It’s so deeply embedded in a culture…

Does modelling inform other areas of your craft?

It’s been a great way to meet photographers, hair stylists, and makeup artists. I feel like as a model, it is easier to get to know the team—to speak, and learn, about each other without any sort of ego, or time constraints, compared to my work as an art, or creative director. It also helps me understand what models have to go through; how to be conscious of their comfort levels, or even, what is possible with the human body? Haha.

Close your eyes, and picture a room. What does it look like?

I see this apartment with a red wall, and a matching velour couch facing me; to the right, a purple wall with another couch, in purple. It’s minimal, kind of warm, and very subtly beautiful.

Have you ever been heartbroken?

Yes. I have... especially when I was younger, experiencing things for the first time. My first relationship, I was heartbroken. The first time in my career where my work was turned down, or watered down, I was heartbroken, but since then I’ve kind of learned from those experiences about how much emphasis I should put on an individual thing, and how to navigate expectations in relationships, and work.

What is the most challenging part of creating a book? And what do you find rewarding?

The logistical work is the most difficult. It is very hard on the ego to reach out for fundraising—also, planning events and distribution; to be told no, or be told something is out of your budget. The most rewarding is definitely the process of searching, and speaking, with different creatives. I get so excited to learn more about someone, and their personal craft and experiences. I learn so much with each story, each book. It’s amazing to work with someone to create exactly that you had in mind, and also to create something you never thought about doing. I also love hearing from people who have read the book, and see their reactions to the work.

Does politics have a place in art? What about fashion?

I think politics do have a place in art, but it’s up to the individual whether they want to address it—or not. I think in fashion, it is not necessary, but what is necessary, is cultural consciousness. Ways of dressing are naturally cultural, as it is in some ways part of everyday life. There are a lot of brands who borrow, or take exact pieces, from cultural traditions, while lacking the consciousness to pay respect, to acknowledge the use of a culture. I think that is very wrong.

Favorite body of water?

Rivers ... like Pocahontas says, “you can’t step in the same river twice.” Siddhartha, as well: he talks about how rivers are always the same, yet always changing, always flowing. I also find it super interesting that civilizations start around rivers. In some ways, it is the core, or center, of civilization, and culture.

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

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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.