Kuboraum Editions release with Kelman Duran and FRANKIE

April 22, 2026

Kuboraum Editions continues to stretch its universe beyond object and into atmosphere, sound as structure, collaboration as a shifting architecture. Within this field, 'McArthur', the debut album by Berlin-based composer and vocalist FRANKIE (Franziska Aigner) and Dominican-American producer Kelman Duran, unfolds less as a record and more as a dispersed sonic landscape, shaped by absence, fracture, and a resistance to linear form.

We spoke with FRANKIE and Kelman while wandering through the iconic Gaylord Apartments in Los Angeles - a building that feels suspended between histories, much like the record itself. Introduced by the first single “GRAYT,” where skeletal rhythms splinter into ghosted reggae fragments and vocals drift through negative space, McArthur operates in a constant state of in-betweenness: between voice and silence, collaboration and authorship, ritual and disintegration.

With contributions from Alex Zhang Hungtai (Dirty Beaches) and Iris Moldiz, and a video that gathers a constellation of collaborators into a choreography of controlled disorientation, the project positions itself as a kind of social and sonic sculpture, one that refuses resolution. We spoke about silence as a point of departure, non-linearity as a political gesture, and the uneasy relationship between culture, memory, and sound.

As part of the programme, FRANKIE & Kelman Duran will perform McArthur in full during the opening weekend of the 61st Venice Art Biennale, bringing the project into a live, immersive context within Kuboraum’s WE TRAVEL TO KNOW OUR OWN GEOGRAPHY series.

FRANKIE, photographed by Nadine Fraczkowski
Interview by Andriy Zozulya
Kelman Duran, photographed by Andriy Zozulya

Andriy Zozulya: Your new album 'McArthur', that was recently released, feels indeed like carved out of silence. When you started shaping this record, what was the first sound or feeling that told you, “this is the world we’re building”?

Kelman Duran: A lot of music I would guess comes from the thought of being silenced, and I guess the attenuation towards speaking your sort of truth is the impetus for that life project. I’ve , just like anyone else, knows they have a language to share, and maybe that beginning silence is a good place to start that sharing. The world we are building unfortunately, doesn't seem to want to listen to those they have silenced, and wish to continue silencing.

The beat on “GRAYT” fractures into reggae ghosts and negative space. What draws you to rhythms that behave like memory glitches rather than straight lines?

KD: I try not to think in this linear format, too often it is tied with the legacy of Europe and rationalism, the renaissance, etc. Linear to me is a conceptual device, rather than a material reality, and glitches- although I am averse to conflating computer language with consciousness- are a good way of putting it.

Alex Zhang Hungtai’s trumpet and Iris Moldiz’s piano create this strange, ceremonial tension. What were you chasing when you brought them into the fold?

FRANKIE: Yeah, both Iris and Alex share this almost devotional relationship to sound, it’s kind of existential. I think we asked them because some parts of the record seemed to need some different emotional charge than what the two of us could have provided. They made beautiful things.

The video summons a small universe of collaborators moving through controlled disorientation. How do you think choreography changes the way we read a song?

F: Kelman was in LA and I was in Berlin last summer, which meant that we couldn’t really work on the video together. We decided to ask some of our friends to spend one evening in Berlin together. Beatrix, who was in town from Australia to play a series of concerts with me, Edwin, who had brought Kelman and me together initially and later wrote about the record, Billy, who I worked with on music and performance for the better part of the last fifteen years, our friend Basyma. I’ve kind of grown up artistically with Margarita and Enad, who directed and filmed. Everyone is so good at what they do. Maybe the best part of making a record is that it gives you reasons to gather your friends and make something together. If the choreography shifts the way the song is read, I hope it’s because you can feel that.

You’ve always blended diaspora sound, digital decay, and emotional minimalism. Where does 'McArthur' sit within your own personal mythology as a producer?

KD: 'McArthur', is the starting point to working collaboratively with other producers and musicians, I think it has and will provide a sort of foundation to be able to continue to create collaborative work in this format, that is a free flowing format of openness and trust, which then maps out a way, and that way can be chosen forthright or let go of.

FRANKIE, your voice is almost a presence between the beats rather than on top of them. What was the conversation like around treating the voice as architecture instead of performance?

F: We spoke early on about making a record where there were no fixed roles. No pre-destinations about who we were supposed to be to one another or to the music. In that sense, the voice was never meant to sit on top of anything. Maybe that’s what you’re hearing. A kind of community of things.

"The post club stage hasn't hit yet, because the clubs are still tied to financialization even though a lot pretend not to be or use community language to hide their material connections to that system."

Your work often feels like it’s documenting some post-club, post-ritual state. What environments were feeding you while making this record: Berlin nights, Dominican roots, or something quieter?

K: I like these environments, and the context you put them in, that is post club or post ritual stage, although, I feel like different times need different actions and agendas to be put forth, as well as a different accentuation of the language used (music for me is the language).

For example, there was at one time where people cared for their culture, and not in a gatekeeping way, but in a protective spiritual kind of way, today it feels like these same cultures we once hailed as the roots, have lost its contextual claim to the music, it is as if it is almost a crime to ask for them back, i.e. repatriation of artefacts via the British Museum. The post club stage hasn't hit yet, because the clubs are still tied to financialization even though a lot pretend not to be or use community language to hide their material connections to that system. In short I would rather work and struggle beside those contexts than try to create a post stage version of them, as post can at times veer into willingful forgetfulness, and in this theater forgetting seems to be golden, I rather stay grounded. Hope that makes sense.

If McArthur had to be experienced in a non-musical medium, installation, film, text, what form would it take and why?

F: It would be a film.

Culture

Secret Teahouse Serves High-Frequencies on Brutalist Penthouse

April 27, 2026

Inside the Terre Velasca’s 25th floor hides the CROMO’s Secret Teahouse. The reflective tent, designed by Bogdan Martoiu, is based on the Vietnamese Rong House, a ceremonial space for cultural gatherings. Inside the temporary teahouse, a tea tasting session guides the guest experience of CROMO’s Cyborg Beauty, a Moroccan Mint Tea. Outside, a mini matcha bar served the event’s exclusive Double Tea - a mix of jasmine, matcha, and Oatly. The pop-up event is Milan’s first of many, leading up to the permanent opening later this year. The space was supported through the private membership club Madison House, also home to Terre Velasca in late 2026. Together, the immersive and thoughtful concept reshapes how tea can be integrated into contemporary markets, design, and culture.

CROMO values the ritual and intention behind tea, recognizing it as the ultimate wellness elixir. Tea attributes the radical notion of slowing down in lieu of the modern hustle culture, regulating a previously tense nervous system. The collection of nine high frequency teas are designed to heighten the physical and mental state. Ethically sourced from China, Japan, Kenya and made with low-impact methods, tea takes its purest form here, uniting craft and character across continents. The nomadic teahouse and all who were involved celebrate the present moment by elevating ancient tools for cultivating connection with the self, each other, and nature.

Photos Courtesy of Andrea Zendali

Culture

Indigenous Storytelling Takes the Big Screen

The pilot opens with a small town fair, but within the first two minutes tensions are already at a high, sure to have an audience edging their seats. The series draws from lived experiences, grounding its storytelling in raw emotion. Indigenous cultures observe storytelling as a necessary artform, and stories like Borders are becoming increasingly important to tell in lieu of controversial authoritarian migration and border control measures. The drama blends your typical western aesthetics with the intensity of a true crime, but it keeps its focus on the people living within these dynamics, resulting in an intimate portrayal of characters who represent the southwest’s major minority.

Season One is full of characters navigating loyalty, resilience, and power. At the center is a young Damion Thomas, a musician whose life is obstructed by personal loss, forcing him to face challenging realities while chasing dreams of his future. Other characters similarly battle with internal and external conflicts, including Anna Hernandez – who risks everything to protect her family, Tribal Chairman Clayton Johnson – whose leadership is tainted with hidden ties, and John Carlos – a Shadow Wolves leader balancing justice with personal allegiance. The cast builds a populace who reside within the collision of personal decisions and systemic forces. Every choice carries consequences, and every consequence carries karmic debt.

It’s a series full of blood, violence, drugs, but also bravery, heart, and spirit.

The half-hour pilot will premiere in none other than Phoenix, Arizona at the Celebrity Theatre on April 24, 2026. A fitting location, as the border state is infamous for drug activity, yet home to natives who challenge these stereotypes. In addition to the screening, a live Q&A and performances by Indigenous Enterprise, Nataani Mans, and Dead City Punx will enchant the night, redefining the premiere as a moment rooted in celebrating communities and preserving culture.

Culture

A Taste of Chef Woldy Reyes' Residency at Susurros del Corazón

April 23, 2026

There’s an early memory Woldy Reyes returns to often; his dad cooking goat stew outside in their Los Angeles backyard, letting it simmer overnight, using every part of the animal. At the time, it felt out of place and far from the hamburgers-and-hot-dogs version of “American” cooking, but it’s the kind of experience that now quietly shapes everything he does.

Before launching his catering company Woldy Kusina or writing his cookbook ‘In the Kusina’, Reyes was working in fashion, moving through roles at magazines like Elle and Nylon. That background still shows up in his approach; considered, adaptable, and tuned into the environments he’s cooking in. His take on Filipino food leans lighter and more vegetable-forward, balancing tradition with a sensibility shaped by years of cooking for fashion clients and creative spaces.

His latest residency at Susurros del Corazón follows that same logic. The breathtaking setting, where jungle meets the Pacific, naturally pushes the menu toward seafood, while the calm energy of the place offers a welcomed contrast to New York kitchens. For Reyes, it’s less about reinventing his cooking than letting it shift slightly depending on where he is and who he’s cooking for.

By Dylan Andrews
Photos courtesy of Susurros del Corazón, Auberge Collection

At Susurros del Corazón, the setting does a lot of the work for you. Tucked between jungle-covered cliffs and a long stretch of beach, the resort leans into a slower, more open way of moving. It’s part surf retreat, part wellness escape, with an emphasis on good food and communal moments. Its ongoing Los Sabores de Susurros series brings in visiting chefs to cook alongside the in-house team, creating a kind of back-and-forth between different culinary perspectives.

During his weeklong residency, Woldy stepped into that rhythm naturally; taking over the beachside grill for open-fire dinners, hosting a more casual, shareable night at La Boquita, and leading a hands-on lumpia workshop that pulled guests a little closer into the process.

One morning, Woldy and I overlooked the sea at Casamilpa over breakfast to talk about his path from fashion to food, how his Filipino roots shape his cooking today, and what it means to step into a slower rhythm in Mexico.

Did you grow up in New York?

No, in California.

So your Spanish should be great.

You would think so, but I didn't take Spanish in school. My parents spoke some Spanish, but they’re Filipinos and obviously the Philippines was colonized by Spain, so there were influences of Spanish speaking. So it's a different language but there's some familiarity.

After I graduated, I worked in New York. I worked in fashion.

What were you doing in fashion?

So I worked at Elle. This was like a long time ago. And then I worked at Nylon.

How did you find cooking?

I've always had a love of cooking. Food was such an integral thing. I was raised primarily by my grandmother, she just was like a second mom to me and taught me a lot about Filipino cooking.

So it was mostly Filipino food when you started cooking?

Yeah, I think the most important memory I have of food is my dad. Every family gathering, he would make his signature goat soup. It’s a rich, tomato-based dish. He learned it in the Philippines and adapted it in LA. We’d go to a goat farm, pick out the goat, bring it home, and he’d cook it in the backyard over a wood fire.

It was a three-day process. The day before the gathering, he’d cook through the night. I don’t even know if he slept. I remember the smoke, the fire, the sizzling goat meat. He’d make one soup with the meat and another with the innards, using the entire animal.

After serving, he would save the head, and the next morning he’d eat it. That was the chef’s treat.'

How do you eat the head?

So there's pieces of meat in there. He would pick it off the bone and he would eat the tongue.

Nothing went to waste.

Nothing went to waste. And that to me, as a kid living in LA, being first generation, I thought that was embarrassing. Most traditional American cooking is grilling outside, but he's making a stew outside. You don't see it all the time on television and your idea of grilling is hamburgers and hot dogs, but we had to stew.

I didn't appreciate it at the time, but now I can appreciate it. And now, cooking food here or in New York, I'm also pushing what my parents were eating, but modernizing it.

So you're working at Elle in fashion. At what point did cooking become a professional pursuit?

So when I moved to New York, I lived in a very small studio apartment that didn't allow me to cook a lot. And I lived in that apartment for four or five years.

But then I moved to Brooklyn. I got a bigger apartment, there's a full kitchen, and I started cooking again and thinking, Oh, I want to pursue this professionally. But I was still working full-time at this point, working for a fashion designer. So I was cooking for a designer, and then I'm also working full-time in visual merchandising, PR, a bunch of different things for this other designer. At the same time, I was assisting a stylist. All simultaneously. So it was all creative, but working different parts of my brain. When you're in New York, you're doing a bunch of different things trying to make a living.

But I wanted to start a catering company, and the reason why I wanted to go that route was to build a customer base, and then eventually open a restaurant. So that was the initial goal. So in 2016 I decided to quit working for the designer and build my catering company. And luckily, when you intern at magazines, you build friendships and connections. I would tell my friends, "I'm starting a catering company." And they were like, "Oh, could you do our press preview? Could you do these smaller events where they needed catering?"

One of my first clients was Christian Louboutin, and then I did an event for Celine. When you are in fashion, there's always catering. And so that was my first clientele I focused on because that's who I knew and the relationships that I had. And now, 10 years later, it's starting to diversify.

Do you think cooking for the fashion industry changed the way you were cooking? Did you feel like you had to adapt to people in the fashion industry more?

In the very beginning.

They were obviously watchful of what they ate, and so I understood their eating habits. So it was a way to be creative and figure out how to make something delicious based off of all these restrictions that they have. And also, when I was assisting a stylist and we would be in studios, we would see the catered food. So I was always observing what types of food are being presented and what they are not eating. When you're on set, you want something nourishing and fresh and not something heavy.

So a lot of your cooking was adapting to other people?

I think when I started cooking a lot more, obviously making it my full-time job, I got more comfortable in myself in terms of embracing my queerness, embracing my Filipino identity. And then I started to explore the food that I grew up eating, and then trying to fuse it in slowly, I didn't want to scare off anybody. So it was just a sprinkle here or a sprinkle there, and then started to evolve from there. So it's taken some time to get to that place where I'm there to educate because normal traditional brand dinners are pretty much safe.

Very safe. They don't want to piss anyone off, don't want to have anyone complaining.

So I'm hoping that when people do reach out to me and work with me, they know that I'm not doing an Alfredo and that I'm doing something completely different. And if they're not open to what I'm making, then…

It's not the client for you. How long is this residency?

It's only a week, but then I'm going to Columbia for another one evening dinner.

Have there been things here that have taught you anything?

They taught me to be chill. Chill and also the sense of camaraderie. The people that work here, everyone, they're embracing each other. And I feel like that's similar to what I do when I work with other people, is that I give them a hug.

I can imagine the kitchen culture is so different to New York.

Oh, very different. Obviously, primarily it's different because I don't speak the language.

But even as people, I mean, Mexicans are so warm and I think New York is…

I do have to say, when I work on things in New York, when I work with other chefs, there are some chefs who just take the initiative and then they don't consult me. And then it's not how I wanted it. And so why did you take the initiative?

Is that almost an ego thing?

Probably. Here, they ask me, "Oh, can you show me?” before they proceed to make sure that is exactly how I want it. And then it becomes more collaborative.

But there's also amazing things about New York.

I could imagine sous chefs there or just people in the kitchen there being so keen to get themselves ahead that they lose the collaborativeness and teamwork.

I feel like you learn people's personality in the kitchen and how they maneuver. Again, New York is competitive. Everybody is trying to do something, make something happen. And sometimes when you are in a place where there is the Head Chef, you just kind of have to be submissive because you have to follow directions and if you're not following directions, then you're just going to go sideways.

And I feel like you don't last long in a kitchen.

You don't last in a kitchen.

I've gotten back into cooking in the last year and a half, and it's so much nicer. It feels like such a nice ritual at the end of the day.

It is a nice ritual. I think that's part of why I don't do it.

I mean, when it's your job and you're doing it for work, it's a different thing.

It's interesting because often people say, "I really love cooking. I want to transition into doing full-time." Well, there's a difference. You're passionate about home cooking, but then when you turn it into your career, you either are going to love it or you're going to hate it.

I'm still doing it. I think I enjoy it and there are a lot more positive things that I enjoy. I obviously don't cook as much for myself.

What's your strategy when accepting jobs? Are you going to say yes no matter what and figure it out?

I'll just figure it out. I think that's always a challenge. I enjoy that part of it. It's like, I can cook anywhere.

Yeah. It must feel like everything's possible at this point. I mean, people have been cooking way before we had electricity and stuff.

Everything is possible.

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Kuboraum Editions release with Kelman Duran and FRANKIE

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