Flavin Judd Reflects on His Father's Craft

Your father was primarily known for sculptures but furniture design ultimately began a huge part of his legacy. What did it mean to you and your sister to grow up in a space so intimately surrounded by his work?

We thought it was normal that where we lived was filled with art, books, and furniture that Don made. It seemed odd that other people were perfectly happy to buy their environments and their aesthetics, while Don insisted on making his. For us, his work didnʼt fit into any categories or historical contexts because it was what surrounded us, and what surrounds you is what you consider normal. Insisting on an expensive shoe-box above Central Park or a perfectly useless super green lawn is strange, making a desk for your kids is not.

A lot of the materials he used were locally sourced which ultimately contributes to the reductive simplicity echoed in the final products. What can you tell us about this?

Don had a practical side as well as a respect for local norms or traditions, even if he rejected most of those he grew up with. He was always willing to appreciate local craftsmanship because it was, in itself, a locality, a culture. For the furniture in Texas, there was one lumberyard and they sold pine 1 x 12s so that is what he used. But to get to the point that he wanted to use 1 x 12s for a chair involved a lot of thinking so itʼs only at the relative end of the process that he decided to use them. He also used a lot of aluminum and thatʼs not local to anywhere, he just used what was available and what he liked.

Were you and your sister aware of the design significance that went into the pieces or did it feel like a normal home growing up?

It felt like and is a normal home. Itʼs the world that has changed.

What is your favorite piece and why?

I donʼt really have a favorite piece but that is because I keep seeing the furniture in different materials and environments and so there is always a new way to look at them. They keep being new to me and I think thatʼs really nice, it also means the designs are really good, they arenʼt wearing out on me.

Itʼs been noted that your father began to design furniture out of a want for functional pieces for your home - what do you remember/know of the design process from sketch to finished product?

It was really simple because most of it was figured out in his head and then there was usually a quick sketch for a fabricator. When Don started using so-called real carpenters in New York problems started because they wanted to fetishize the joints and the surface and Don had to keep working with them to keep the pieces plain and simple. He didnʼt want fancy joinery, he wanted the parts to cleanly and simply meet.

What was his favorite piece and why?

He didnʼt have a favorite piece and he was never finished designing. He wasnʼt finished designing furniture, buildings or art or anything else.

Was it ever a case of furniture being “precious” and something you and your sister had to be careful around once finished?

That was true but not any more than any other furniture or object. Don treated everything with respect, you didnʼt break the spines of books and you didnʼt fall down into the Breuer chair and you didnʼt do that with Donʼs furniture. He didnʼt treat his furniture any differently from others.

How does your fatherʼs furniture fit into the narrative of the space?

Any narrative within a space is imposed upon it by us and Don didnʼt like narratives.

Tell us what you remember of your father designing furniture - did he sketch? Source inspiration from somewhere?

There are many sketches, some ultimately made and others not. Like the architecture, it is about solving the immediate spatial problems before you. In Donʼs case, he tried to solve these issues in a way that felt right to him, he wanted to find solutions to problems but they had to fit in with what he wanted to look at. His standing writing desk, for instance, doesnʼt look like any prior desk but it also is something that he would have liked to see every day. He only made things he could live with on a daily basis and that was a pretty high standard.

Your fatherʼs colored boxes are arguably one of his more prolific pieces, produced in unlimited numbers as to mirror the industrial aspect of his work, how you would describe the concept behind them?

All materials were equal to Don and he refused the preoccupation with industrial production as that was pretty much a mistaken assumption. Both the furniture and the art were pretty much hand made one by one. Even if aluminum or paint was used what mattered was the result and not how it got there. The craftsmen had to be really good at what they did no matter what material they were dealing with.

A lot of the wood furniture speaks to American folk aesthetics - would you say this is true?

Only superficially in that if you make something out of untreated lumber it will have a certain look and that look will be similar to furniture made by the Shakers or Midwestern farmers or Swiss or Swedish immigrants. The category of “American Folk” is itself a conglomeration of different cultures from Europe, Africa and other parts of the world.

Ultimately, your father started designing furniture for you and your familyʼs use. Do you think that the pieces still sit best in a personal rather than professional setting?

The two categories simply didnʼt exist for him. A chair was a chair and it was either good or bad and the office or home or building was either good or bad. Clearly, modern offices are not better designed or more comfortable than old farmhouses so the distinction is one of marketing more than anything. A chair doesnʼt care which category it inhabits in somebodyʼs marketing plan, it is what it is.

See more on Donald Judd Furniture

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.