office x Human By Orientation: Arvida Byström

Lead photo courtesy of HBO Max

For this collaboration, we came together and asked our three artists to investigate the idea of “identity” and “self-reflection," through words as well as their respective medium. For the first of our three artists, office x Human By Orientation present photographer Arvida Byrström.

Arvida Byström’s work, and its boldness, lead to notability at a young age. Having come up alongside the likes of Petra Collins and Molly Soda—known as ‘post-internet,' ‘Tumblr-era’ artists—Byström set herself apart with her distinct, “girly” aesthetic style and the statements made by her poignant photography, often focusing on feminism, bodies, and sexualization. At times using herself as the subject, her work continues to unpack the female form on a personal and sociopolitical level, sometimes softly, and sometimes quite shockingly.

All that being said, Arvida is a crucial artist to include in any series on self-reflection.

Photos courtesy of HBO Max

For this project, how did you approach the process of actual self-reflection?

I guess I approached it in a way where the actual image and the creativity got to take up the biggest part as a symbol of art as self-making without having to have a function. When I was younger I tried to find [out] what I looked like and who I was through photographs, but eventually, I realized that photography is way better at showing a manipulated warped version of reality rather than anything we would call truth.

Today, what do you think the relationship is between the digital world and the art world? If there is a divide, where do you feel that you fall? Which space inspires you the most?

In the ‘90s there was an art movement called ‘net art'—[and then] later, ‘post-internet art’ came along—so digital has been a part of big institutions and museums for a while now. The way the internet and our digital gadget is omnipresent and completely integrated into our world I think could inspire us to stop trying to separate [the] digital from non-digital. Most people never go “offline," so instead, I think we should view the online and digital sphere as a vital part of our lives now, where we have to demand rights—everything from the devices we use being made in an ethical way [without] underpaid labour to tech companies not spying on us.

How do you define femininity, as it pertains to you? How does it fit into your “identity”?

I think there are different femininities! And it also shifts in different contexts, so by nature, it is really hard to find a finite definition of such fluid concepts. A lot of femininities requires a certain kind of perfromance though, where things regarded unfeminine or unwomanly are often just existing—for men, women and non-binary people. I am intrigued by a sort of hyperfemininity that is almost so in your face it is annoying. It is interesting how differently I get perceived depending on how much of that visual femininity I apply in the morning. Say, make up and high heels definitely give you different attention than just a hoodie—so different clothes, how they fit and feel and the response it gives you can have an immense impact on how you take on that day. Something that isn’t a woman but is showing another kind of femininity is a lot of voice assistants! Siri, Alexa etc. I have a video where I wrote a monologue to Siri where she kinds of ponders on her femininity and disembodied nature… Femininities! Ha! I find it very interesting why we do that to technology.

I took a lot of self portraits in my teen years. First, I did it to make sure I was skinny and looked hot like a model. Then later, I used the camera as a tool to reflect on how my body could be interesting and valid in other ways.

Photo courtesy of HBO Max

Ironically, as we are speaking on self-reflection, you have already done some serious work surrounding the concept of the “selfie." Can you offer up some more of your tips on taking thoughtful selfies, and tell us why this is important to you?

I think we have to accept that selfies, from a photo historical point of view, are extremely important and impactful. The phone camera is a minor photographic revolution. This doesn't mean that it is inherently good, it might even at times be bad! But it is something, and I think it will be hard to know what this something truly is until some time has passed. It is so easy to dismiss selfies as something shallow, but the truth is selfies are a very wide category of photographs, taken with phone cameras, by yourself. It can be you showing that you are with a friend, it can be you trying to see if you too can be regarded as beautiful [like] the photographs by beautiful women you get exposed to everyday.

Talking about the selfies that are usually hated—the ones where feminine people try to show how hot they are— it is kind of absurd to jam a bunch of photos into people's faces everyday, give them a tool where they can easily replicate this, and expect they should practice self control? Of course one [would] want to try to be those glorified people in the pictures.

Human by Orientation’s ethos is to celebrate your fullest self. How have you learned and grown as an artist through your journey of embracing your full self?

I think for me it has been very important to realize that my fullest self is constituted by the people around me. If I don't cherish and sacrifice stuff for loved ones around me, I will be a very shitty version of myself. [And] honestly, this probably affects my art badly. Working non-stop is kind of [considered] “good” and encouraged in our society, but if you dont make sure your life is worth living, being a successful artist will be pretty damn shitty in the end. I sincerely think self-sacrifice for people around you is a virtue.

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.