Printed Matters

To study Gio Ponti’s (1891 – 1979) prolific body of work is to appreciate the clear, unifying vision behind a complex creative universe. A synthesis of the arts, it expands like a crystal into intuitive facets with the Italian grandeur and studied lightness that defined his iconic style. Ponti’s rare capacity to move from micro to macro in a single flow of beauty allowed him to approach the design of a teaspoon with the same conviction as he did an entire city. The architect and the designer, the publisher and the poet, the artist and the man. The particular and the universal. A gem in its own regard, his contribution is a landmark of Italy’s mid-century Renaissance and the modernist values it sought to accomplish.

This new book is the most comprehensive account of his work to date, unprecedented in scale and scope. It tracks the development of Ponti’s oeuvre over 6 decades, 136 projects indexed and reproduced in high resolution in a compelling 36 x 36 cm format. It is an immersive experience of the atmosphere of space, each object framed by the context in which Ponti had created them. Like windows onto his illusive life, unpublished materials and candid imagery create new dialogues between his famous masterpieces - such as the Pirelli Tower or the Taranto Cathedral - and his work as editor of Domus and of countless objects, textiles and ceramics. A rich layer of texts, featuring a biographical essay, was produced in close collaboration with the Gio Ponti Archive offering an intimate insight on his life’s work. Materializing Ponti’s core philosophy of modernity, it presents architecture as a performing object, a « self-illuminating » stage for his humanistic art de vivre and boundless creativity.

Hillary Clinton was running for president, Britain voted to leave the EU and Kylie Jenner coined it the year of “just realizing stuff”; still more sinister events lurked just beyond the horizon. The electoral college had yet to perplex the masses and your immune systems were still untainted by Coronavirus (though people kept mentioning Zika? What happened there?). We could smell the impending doom; a storm brewing, accelerating with great haste.

You began to pet us more vigorously then, first running your palm placidly down our backs, becoming more agitated with every ear scratch. Your phone went “ding!” spasmodically, terrifying us and you all at once, forcing us to hide while you scrolled through endless pages of breaking reports framed in the blood red borders of various news apps. By 2017, we had both started losing hair. Something had to be done.

Thus, Not My Animal was born. Our emancipation began quietly at first, finding our digital shelter on Instagram, growing our online connections day by day. Through an archive of portraits you humans took of us during these precarious times, a deeper sense of meaning emerged. We held a mirror up to your compulsions, urging you to see us not only as your companions, but as your compatriots! Our posts began to make you laugh, cry and question your human reality, compelled by both our faults and similarities.

Our adorable lives continue to be documented today, having gotten you through recessions and lockdowns (2020, amirite!). These countless hours spent in confinement have allowed us time to consider new breeds of entertainment, as well as their potential ethical impact and sustainability. It is our honour to present the fruits of this period of reflection, the Not My Animal: 2017-2020 Collection, a true labour of love, printed on recycled paper no less!

So go ahead, have a look! Gaze upon our silly mugs. It has been our pleasure navigating these past few years with you and we look forward to those yet to come. We promise to stick around, so long as you promise to keep feeding us.

Saint-Narcisse is a twin-centric love story of self-obsession, rebellion, and ultimately of redemption. What compelled you to tell this story?

My movies often take as their subject some sort of fetish or taboo. Fetishes fascinate me as they are generally regarded in society as something pathological or disgusting, even though most of us have some kind of fetish or other, defined by Freud as anything that doesn’t contribute directly to the procreative act. According to that definition, even a kiss is a fetish. Most fetishes seem to exhibit a kind of reverence for the love object, identifying it as something sacred, and even may involve a romantic attachment to it. My movies attempt to define and celebrate this romance. The starting point for Saint-Narcisse was the narcissistic fetish of oneself, which is articulated in the Narcissus myth, and more particularly by the phenomenon of twincest.  Twincest is a well-defined genre in the porn world, and the twincest taboo in cultural is in a way regarded as the most « acceptable » or « understandable » form of incest : when you are confronted with your own doppelgänger, it makes sense that you would have intimacy with it, and possible a sexual attraction. So applying twincest to the Narcissus myth gave me the opportunity to explore these ideas further. The movie is also about Freud’s idea of “Family Romance”, which is essentially a term to describe the sexual tensions that exist within the nuclear family. Beyond the incestuous relationship between the twins, there is the more symbolic incest between Beatrice, the mother of the twins and an Earth Mother figure, and Irene, the daughter figure (Irene being the daughter of Beatrice’s dead lover, Agathe, who happens to look like Irene’s twin), and between Andrew, the symbolic Father, and Daniel, one of the twins. The movie explores what happens when these almost arbitrary social contracts and taboos are contravened. When the demented Father figure is eliminated, we are left with a polyamorous family at the end. The audience is left to consider the implications of these transgressions.

Is there a reason you frequently choose to work in Quebec?

Originally I started making work in Quebec because I couldn’t get bigger budgeted films financed in Anglo-Canada. I failed to get one great project, about the photographer Wilhelm Von Gloeden, financed, and when I was also turned down multiple times for my movie Gerontophilia, my producers and I found a Quebec producer, Nicolas Comeau, who financed both Gerontophilia and Saint-Narcisse  in Quebec through SODEC and Quebec Telefilm. As you know, Quebec has a very rich film history, and its appreciation of cinema is more aligned with European art house cinema. It is more embedded in the culture, and concerned with more adult themes, which includes being more open to frank representations of sexuality and nudity. Saint-Narcisse is also my homage of sorts to Quebecois cinema of the 70’s. I was influenced as a kid by the films from Quebec that I would see on CBC, the national broadcaster, including the films of Paul Almond, who made a trilogy of films with his then-wife, Genevieve Bujold. In one film I saw, The Act of the Heart (1970), Bujold plays a young girl from the country who moves to Montreal and ends up having sex with a priest, played by Donald Sutherland, on the alter of the church. At the end she goes to a park, douses herself with gasoline, and sets herself on fire. This and other films of the era were my introduction to such themes as the intersection of religious and sexual energy, the extreme fetishes and perversions of Catholic saints, and represented the beginning of my pornographic imagination.

We’d love to hear about your upcoming porn film. And who is Skye Blue ;) ?

The Affairs of Lidia came about when the Erika Lust Company approached me to make a feature film for them. I had already made three 30 minute films for them which turned out nicely, so this seemed like a natural progression. I’ve always wanted to make a film using the fashion industry as a backdrop, so this seemed like as good a time as any! I felt it was high time for a fashion/porn crossover. The movie is a kind of pastiche or mostly affectionate satire of the fashion world, campily reveling in its cliches. We shot it in 8 days in Montreal last Oct/Nov during COVID restrictions, so it was very challenging. I cast the two female leads, Skye Blue, who plays Lidia, and Vanna Bardot, based on Lust’s recommendations. Skye has been a Penthouse model, and in fact I wanted my movie to have a slightly Penthouse look and atmosphere, but more from the point of view and sensibility of female characters, a Lust trademark. The three male characters are played by porn stars Sean Ford, Drew Dixon, and Markus Kage, who mostly do gay porn but are into crossing over from time to time. The film is largely bisexual in nature, with some polyamory thrown in for good measure. The movie also features the wonderful Montreal trans actor Pascale Drevillon. Skye was extremely professional and fun to work with, even though we really put her through the paces with a lot of complicated dialogue. She balanced the sex and narrative scenes beautifully.

Do you prefer working on feature films or pornos? And what is it like to switch gears from one to the other?

For me, the distinction between making porn and indie feature films is somewhat moot. I started out making what I considered sexually explicit art films in the early 90’s, but some people considered them pornographic. Since I was being called a pornographer anyway, and subject to the same glass ceiling as pornographers, I started making porn movies for my producer, Jurgen Bruning, who started the first ever porn company, Cazzo Film, in Berlin. I made four indie feature films for him with the understanding that we would release both a hardcore version for the porn market and a soft-core version (still somewhat explicit) more suitable for film festival and theatrical release. Then I segued making indie arthouse films like Gerontophilia, The Misandrists, and Saint-Narcisse which had transgressive or provocative themes and scenes, but were not intended for a porn audience. I also insisted on continuing to make porn movies for the likes of Cockyboys and Erika Lust. So I really feel like I’m able to move back and forth between the two worlds, which isn’t easy to do. The indie features generally have larger budgets and more shooting days, and the emphasis is on the narrative and aesthetics. The porn films are still relatively high-end, and narrative and aesthetics are important, but you also have to devote equal time to the sex scenes, which have their own conventions and rules of engagement.

Which article of clothing could you never live without?

A black bomber jacket. I currently have three, one with a LUCIFER appliqué on the back, purchased from Kenneth Anger.

What’s the story behind that transaction?

Like all my stories, it’s a long one. I’m a big Kenneth Anger fan, both for his films and for his two Hollywood Babylon books. My character in my movie Hustler White is named Jurgen Anger, the name and character a composite of the producer of the movie (and many of my other features), Jurgen Bruning, and Kenneth Anger. I consider the character a fond homage to Mr. Anger, but I do make a couple of bitchy jokes at his expense. At one point, for example, someone asks me if I am any relation to Kenneth, and I reply drily, “I think not.” When my collaborator on the film, Rick Castro, helpfully showed Mr. Anger the movie, Anger said he hated me and my character, and in fact he said he wanted to take me to the desert, throw me on a cactus with barbed spines that open up and prevent you from extracting yourself from them, leave me in the hot sun for three days, and then come back and shoot me between the eyes. I’ve had to deal with hexes from many dainty Satanists over the years, so I got my Santeria husband to help me repel any incoming spells or curses, but I was always hesitant to meet him in person. When I finally did, a couple of years ago at a Homosurrealism even in LA, I don’t think he knew who he was, and I didn’t bother to tell him! But I did buy a couple of Lucifer jackets from his handlers to contribute to his continued well-being. He’s 95 years old now, so he’ll probably outlive me anyway!

And finally, why do you always put your thumb in your mouth in photos?

I don’t put my thumb in my mouth. I put the knuckle of my index finger against my lower lip. It reminds one to suck in one’s cheeks, it conceals any potential double-chin-age, and it gives one an air of thoughtfulness and introspection.

The Affairs of Lidia will be premiering on April 21st at the Buenos Aires International Independent Film Festival (BAFICI) and you can stream Saint-Narcisse for free at CBC Gem.

JunQ - or ‘Journal of unsolved Questions’- is modelled on a parallel exercise: to score sculptures while sketching music, in a conjoined effort to dispel the woes of isolation. Designed like a Debordian RPG game, the architecture of JunQ can be penetrated from any end, like a wave that never breaks, a continuous loop forward. JunQ is a collaborative language that binds the algorithm of an artificial pop star and the performance of the artist himself. Real imitates ‘fake’ in a chain of infection and sublimation; the ultimate romance between analog evolution and digital experimentation.

The story opens on the ethereal song of sirens, beckoning us on.
Vocals are composed like instruments, a chorus of fantastical beasts providing sound cues in the atmospheric wanderings of the LP. A haunting banshee, the monstrous growl of an Orc, are met with sharp violins and muffled harpsichord to form an orchestra for the New Babylon. Sounds are never used for their default function; they are sculpted, distorted, amplified, to become hybrids. The tension between guttural bass-lines and titillating cymbals turn generic samples of classical instruments into sound archetypes for the future. Distant dance-hall reverberations delimitate a vibrant ‘jungle’ of sound that is open to its user’s interpretation.

Erwan Sene is a protean artist and musician based in Paris.
His composite body of work is led by a sculptural practice that unfolds on several levels, reprising, digesting and warping the objects that surround him.
He creates polyphonous mise-en-scènes, between baroque remanence and domestic surrealism, that address themes of contamination, idiopathy and science fiction.

The JunQbook is a visual immersion depicted at a microscopic scale; an encrypted rulebook to decipher the JunQspace.
Each page dives into the neon structures of Cronenberg-like mutations: miniatures, models, ventilation details echo the micro-evolutions of Sene’s ‘imaginary mundane’.
Appropriating the devices of the COVID-19 lockdown, Sene sought to conjure the entrapment of infection, staging its distorted biotope as a friend, rather than a foe.
The sensuality of fragmentation and the saturation of nuclear tones are the instruments of his personal entropy.

The book features a bespoke type that evokes notions of archeology and of civilisations hidden inward - providing a faux-real scripture to its multi-fold universe.
This type was designed in collaboration with Marie Mam-Sai Bellier and Marine Stephan.

You have entered the world of JunQ
An open-ended quest for wanton wanderers,
Our wayward expedition holds limitless possibilities

JunQ is a game that warps the fabric of reality
Scratching, cutting - TRICKING - its way into its own fragmented zone

JunQ is a terminal for fantasy
A modular solution to the dread of isolation

JunQ is an archeology of solitude set to an infectious beat

Successive reverberations create infinite computations:
The texture of our journey is a flight - frenetic, then surrendered
Throughout, a wordless voice, a song of a siren, calls the objective of our mission
Mapping territories of control and chaos

JunQ is collaborative language
A digital spell cast to conjure an artificial pop star
‘One voice to rule them all- and in the deep-web bind them’
One voice to emulate ‘humanity’ - a virtual Pinocchio for a post-human world

You access the JunQspace at your own will
Its codes are cryptic, tailored to the ANARCHI-tecture of the mind
We provide the outline, you generate the rest

Huge and full of absence, the JunQspace follows no rules
Derived from the Shuffle generation, it can be approached from any end
Ventilation, doors, windows, grids, are scars of property, relics of delimitated space
PRISONS OF PHYSICAL CONTEMPT

JunQ is the place where artificial expression meets analog pastiche

JunQ stages conversations with the ‘Ghost in our Shell’:
‘Faux old/ Real new’
‘Real’ completes ‘fake’ in an unstoppable chain of infection and sublimation

If you listen close enough, can you hear its heart-beat?
Can you grasp at the longing that lies beyond the code?

The plot hungers for a breath of fresh air
Bacteria blooming everywhere

The ghost of dance-hall echoes
Sounds of glass and streams,
Growls of Orcs and Banshees, shrieking - forever forward
Voicing hybrid exaltations of ESCAPE

It is with great pleasure that we present to you CORMIO PEARLY GATES, a twisted tale of lucid dreams, of ecstasy and intrigue; a cooky quest into our very own world of wonder.

Before we dive in, for all you first-timers and aficionados alike, let’s start with the ABC’s of our brand.

CORMIO is formally quite simple. We offer a foundational wardrobe for the fearless girl who relishes in intellectualizing her cuteness and sexuality. It is a coming-of-age story born at the intersection of tradition and rebellion, done dressed in bon-ton daywear with a deranged twist. She is as playful as she is cunning, a living, breathing subversion of “the neoliberal expectation that hyper-feminine qualities can’t be intellectually substantive”*. We make clothing that boys want to steal from their sisters, mothers, friends or girlfriends, daring to go where no mini-skirt has gone before.

Our aesthetic explores the final frontiers of the bourgeoisie fantasy, evolving old-world signifiers to give them new-world context.

Each collection is a fresh concoction of clever juxtapositions sprinkled with a dash of youthful irreverence; a post-modern cut-up with a splash of Chianti, the demented drone of techno-yodelling echoing in the distance.

At CORMIO we are dutifully conscious of the world around us, conducting a tight-knit community of artisans and creatives who are dedicated to working towards a brighter tomorrow. We produce each piece with the highest standards at heart, working hand in hand with small Italian factories to embrace sustainable methods of manufacturing. We are committed to perfecting our practices with each passing collection. Our eyes turned firmly towards the future of our field, CORMIO invites one and all to experience the fantasy.

So without further ado,

The wise words of Stephanie Deig, PhD researcher specializing in feminist philosophy and gender studies at the University of Lucerne. 2021 is the Year of the Bimbo, Roisin Lanigan, i-D, 19 January, 2021.

Lola got up so fast the chair behind her toppled backwards.

Bypassing the elevator, she barreled down the stairs, skipping every second step in her flight.

She burst through the front doors of the building just as a bright yellow Ferrari sped past her, headed in the direction of Loreto. Ripe for adventure, Lola followed it wistfully into the night.

Lola sauntered through the busy neighborhood past bustling bars and nightclubs, each one more blandly hellish than the last. The dizzying labyrinth of streets was beginning to daze her. Wandering over to a much welcome bench that had been erratically draped with garlands of jasmine flowers, she settled down in hopes of catching her breath.

A melodious voice called out from behind her. A blond-haired boy in a blue knitted cardigan emerged from the shadows.

Lola was skeptical.

He said, winking.

Giordano reached into his pocket and miraculously pulled out a ragged-looking doll that was holding its own microscopic handbag.

Lola could hardly utter a word before Giordano shushed her, pressing his finger to her lips. She pointed down the dark alley before them where stood a door Lola hadn’t noticed before.

The door was ancient looking, a peacoat wearing rabbit painted ornately on the front. Mesmerized by its charm, Lola pushed the creaking door open and climbed down what seemed like a bottomless ladder towards the gloom that beckoned below.

Lola opened her eyes to find herself slumped over an oak church pugh next to a man in a sharp blazer who appeared to be conducting a group of school children, standing in rows at the alter.

He silenced the choir with a whip of his hand, pausing their roaring rendition of Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’.

He said, incredulously gesturing at the singing students.

Lola was speechless.

The man turned to the group.

Lola guffawed, baffled yet intrigued.

The glitter-heavy letters reading “CORMIO PEARLY GATES” flashed on the plush invitation he produced with a simple snap of his fingers.

The choir continued.

She walked over to the confession box which appeared minuscule against the vaulted church ceiling. Sitting down inside, something sharp pricked her and she jolted in pain; a giant fluorescent Smiley-face pin was glowing beneath her. On the back was carved:

Her eyes fluttered to the hypnotic beat she knew all too well…

Lola awoke on the cold misty grass of a stadium, the night‘s stars glittering back at her approvingly. All at once, the stadium lights blasted on - blinding her momentarily. She guessed at silhouettes in the distance, a flock of balloons hovering over them like a demented cloud.

As she approached the group, she noticed a legion of knitting machines and tailoring posts positioned around the sprawling football pitch. A roaring voice abruptly came over the loudspeaker just as the Jumbotron above flickered to life.

The screen broadcasted the face of a proud woman who seemed to have appeared out of thin air at one of the stations.

The crowd all cheered in unison.

With super-powered precision, Valeria produced garment upon garment, complete with tiny embroidered details. Rising from her seat to salute the crowd, she pumped her fists in the air triumphantly.

Lola couldn’t believe her eyes. The field was packed with fans desperately fawning over their favorite manufacturers. Some were snapping photos, others were waving flamboyant flags from different regions. She even thought she saw a couple comparing trading cards.

As the competition raged on, she took the chance to approach Valeria who was now packing up her station.

She realized she had no idea what time it even was.

Valeria pointed to a couple of stations over where two competitors were preparing for the next round. For some reason, a pack of tiny fluffy chickens and rabbits were circling their table.

Lola asked as she approached the athletes, referring to their furry entourage.

Marco winked as Rory handed Lola a beautiful hand-embroidered cardigan.

Lola slipped on the cardigan. It fit like a glove. Reaching into the pocket, she felt the smooth outlines of a heart-shaped locket. She opened it apprehensively in the privacy of her palm.

A rolled-up scroll sprung out. It read:

Wandering over to a lone pile of freshly-knitted garments, Lola felt her eyelids become heavier as she dramatically collapsed into their pillowy softness. Dreams of a Strawberry Moon flashed before her eyes, its pink glow shining brighter in intervals, as if beating to the sound of an unsung melody.

Lola felt warmth on her cheek, wet and urgent. Deep, groaning snores drew her from her slumber. She opened her eyes to see two pugs waiting patiently in the snow.

Said the stout one.

She followed the colloquial pugs in disbelief, the penetrating pulse of techno reaching deep into her skin. A Disney-worthy castle stood triumphantly before her.

She had finally arrived.
Everywhere Lola looked, something delightful was happening. This club had everything:

Everyone was there!

And was that a Dolly Parton impersonator dressed in a pink patterned terry cloth dress singing Britney Spears songs? It was all too much and somehow exactly enough at the same time.

The two pugs waddled over, followed by Jonathan and a man with a salt-and-pepper beard and inquisitive eyewear.

He yelled over the music.

She grinned gleefully as they disappeared into the reeling crowd.

An overwhelming sense of belonging washed over her. She was exactly where she needed to be.

Lola went up to the bar to find herself standing next to an effortlessly nonchalant girl in a red knitted dress.

She said coolly.

Two pink drinks appeared on the bar as if conjured by some bartending witch, the brunette handed Lola the second one.

Shimmying her way to the front of the DJ booth, the vibrations thumped metronomically in her chest. Beyond it was a panoramic window that looked out at a snow-capped mountain, hula-hoop clouds hanging low on its flanks. Closing her eyes, Lola gave in to the music and danced like everyone was watching.

coLola awoke to the sound of birds chirping, the sun rising slowly over the empty streets.
The satisfying burn of a night well-lived scorched her temples. It was pure bliss. A gleaming yellow road home stood before her - she barely noticed herself skipping, or the soft tear rolling down her cheek.