Presented by The Orange Garden, this is an installation that is increasingly hard to miss — featuring in countless stories and posts across Instagram since it opened last month — and it presents an intense moment of personal discovery and declaration for the artist at its heart. I meet Agnes? for breakfast a few minutes walk from the exhibition space, in the few hours she has each day before her performance begins again; a long-durational feat of eight hours a day for 23 days.

Photography Stephen White

Over orange juice, she's exhausted but bright. This 'series of experiments' — curated by Arturo Passacantando, Tommaso de Benedictis, and Charlie Mills in partnership with Harlesden High Street — began to take shape in August 2020, when Agnes? first encountered the cavernous space (one of the many unusual, unused commercial spaces where Harlesden High Street's nomadic exhibition programme appears.) Practical work began in November from Agnes?'s studio in Italy, where the artist worked each day — with the help of friends — to produce such a physically monumental body of work in time.

The entire space triggers a sensorial engagement, from navigating the dimly-lit entrance tunnel, lined with foetus-like latex sculptures presented life-size in roundel forms, to the audio-visual entrancement of the work itself. In the chamber of ceramic sculptures, glimmering on metal fronds like jellyfish in the half-darkness, the floor is covered in white sand. “It was important to me to play with the space, to consider the actual space as a body in itself,” Agnes? says. I was creating a new body, but at the same time, I was presenting the space as a body. I like to consider the whole space as an extension of my body. As if the octopus is giving birth — is giving life — to everything else.”

Fetal Gestation. Photography Stephen White

For Agnes?, the ocean has always represented a state of flux and transformation. Her father was a sailor, and she grew up on a boat; when we meet for breakfast, I notice her hands are tattooed with an anchor and fish. She tells me of how her father threw her into the ocean as a child, of how “underwater was always a safe place, a place of comfort — for me it always brought me back to the womb of the mother. I always felt protected.” When Agnes? speaks of the sea, it seems interwoven with the underpinnings of this project — an externalisation of her own gender transition, which saw her begin taking hormones the day that she arrived in London. “Water has the great power of giving life and transformation, but also of destroying things. It's such a powerful element.”

Amidst the underwater world of the exhibition — the subterranean darkness and fluid, fleshy folds of the womb-like installation — this notion of creation-destruction, fantasy and threat, is made manifest. “I'm giving birth to something new, but I'm also destroying something from my past. Transitioning itself, it's a destruction. The hormones destroy part of you — you need to destroy part of your body to lead to new creations. The octopus does the same — it's a creature that represents the great mother, the dedicated mother who, at the end of her life, dies for her offspring, letting her body be consumed.”

The earliest incarnation of Agnes? appeared five years ago, whilst the artist was studying at university. “I started talking about Agnes? five years ago, when I still had no idea who Agnes? was and what Agnes? meant to me.” Beginning hormones in conjunction with the exhibition's opening, this project becomes an invocation — and externalisation — of the deeply personal process of becoming (and being). “My performance is real. The transformation is happening in front of you; it's not just a theatrical representation.”

And just like that, Agnes? seems everywhere — in last week's Time Out, in i-D, and on digital feeds over and over again. I ask how it feels to see this personal process play out so publicly, thinking of Felix Gonzalez Torres in the early 90s and his externalisation of his partner's death from AIDS as a pile of sweets, which the viewers could take away with them. He wrote at the time of his desire to “control the pain” and yet found himself wanting to reclaim the sweets — to take it all back — as soon as he watched the public happily walking away with the artistic metaphor in their pockets.

Agnes? describes how “the desire of someone who would like to transition, and to transform, is to control — but you cannot control something that is uncontrollable. You never know what is going to happen with your body when you transition, and this performance was the same. I didn't know what I was going through.” And yet, her primary concern with the exhibition going viral is that “this is a physical interaction” — not to be skipped IRL as a result of consuming it on Instagram. She adds: “My art and my life are interconnected — one informs the other. My artist side and my private side are unconsciously and unconditionally chained and fused.”

We get up to leave, and Agnes? is again en route to the exhibition space — ready to apply her mask and mic, to be covered in baby powder, and to ascend into the octopus via a ladder and trap door. I ask how it feels to look out from her vantage point, after months of so much work and amidst such a personal project. “It feels like an eternity. It feels like time never passes. I change a lot. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I cry, sometimes I'm happy, sometimes I laugh.” And yet, this project is an essential declaration and embodiment of everything Agnes? stands for at this time; “I'm transitioning, the work is a transition, the people who enter the space need to transition. It's an invitation to open your mind.”

Octosapiens. Photography Stephen White

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Douglas Miles Jr. took up skating in the early 00s because, like many kids of that era, the video game Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater made it look cool. Growing up on the San Carlos Apache Indian Reservation — a stretch of Arizona desert nicknamed “Hell’s Forty Acres” in the 1800s because of its barren and unlivable conditions — he and his cousins used to walk to each other’s houses and cruise around looking for something to do, somewhere to graffiti. For Doug Jr., skateboarding was more than a sport; it became a vessel into a wider world of art, expression and independence. 

“With a skateboard, you could just go out and do your thing by yourself,” Doug Jr. says. “[Making skate videos] was really all about creating a world around your friends that you guys could enjoy and share with other people.” Today, he’s one of the first (if not the first) Native American pro skaters sponsored by Tommy Guerrero’s Real Skateboards and prominent companies like Spitfire Wheels and Converse. He’s also a filmmaker and runs his own skate clothing brand, Indellica. 

Douglas Miles Sr. — fine artist, muralist, Indigenous activist, and, of course, Doug Jr.’s dad — founded the brand Apache Skateboards around 2001. Inspired by his son’s passion, but unable to afford a new skate deck for him, Doug Sr. bought a blank one and painted it himself with an Apache warrior wielding a spear and shield in his signature graphic style. Once other skaters around the San Carlos rez saw Doug Jr.’s board, everyone wanted their own. In a short documentary, Doug Sr. succinctly explains the strong tie between his work and his community: “By blending Apache art and skateboarding, we’re blending two strong, important tribal cultures.”

Over the past two decades, Apache Skateboards has supplied Native communities across the country with much-needed skate products and safe spaces to explore their identities. “We travelled around the nation to reservations and cities doing demos and holding events for schools — skate events and contests everywhere we went,” Doug Jr. says of his early days with Apache Skateboards. “That really shaped my life as a young skater.” Along with Doug Jr., the brand counts Indigenous skaters like Tasha Hastings, Tray Polk and Navajo Nation’s Di’orr Greenwood as official riders. The short film The Mystery of Now (2019), which was a collaboration between Doug Sr. and filmmaker Audrey Buchanan, offers a glimpse into Apache Skateboards’ resilient team and the vibrant skate scene in San Carlos. 

But even with all their success, Apache Skateboards still operates within the broken systems that oppress all federally recognized tribes in the US. Although it’s only two hours east of Arizona’s capital city, Phoenix, the San Carlos reservation has struggled to manage rampant rates of diabetes, cancer, unemployment and substance abuse amongst its tribal members without the proper socio-economic resources. These deadly disparities are the product of a long and ongoing history of genocide and harmful policy — enforced by American leaders that Doug Sr. likes to refer to as “gangsters” — which strip Indigenous peoples of their land, political rights, language and religion.     

“When an outsider comes here, it’s definitely a culture shock because it’s not like a regular town,” Doug Jr. says of Whiteriver, located on the White Mountain Apache Reservation in Arizona, where he now resides with his wife and two children. “It’s just not doing economically as well as you would think is normal. It’s the same [as other towns] — we have stores and a grocery store, but you can tell that there are some problems.” 

But Doug Jr.’s voice lifts with pride when speaking about the kids that make up the skate scene in Whiteriver, which, to his surprise, is much larger than the one he grew up with in San Carlos. “These kids are energetic, passionate, funny and friendly,” he says. “When you come here, they make you feel at home. Here, I feel good.”

As a pro skater, one of the ways Doug Jr. felt he could give back to the Apache people is by building an entire skatepark for the White Mountain Apache Nation. Despite the sport’s growing popularity there, skaters on the rez rely on makeshift spots like an abandoned housing lot for hangouts and sessions. The Apache Passion Project, which Doug Jr. launched in October 2020, is raising $50,000 for construction. So far, the GoFundMe has already reached more than half of its goal, and he hopes to finish the skatepark by the end of the year. 

Aside from providing a safe and fun environment, Doug Jr. believes the Apache Passion Project will provide opportunities to skaters learning the ins and outs of the culture. “[The Apache skaters] are doing these cool skills that are really effective in this day and age, that are important for people to know how to do,” he says. “I think [the rez] is gonna produce some pro skaters for sure, but it’s also gonna produce a filmmaker, a photographer, a social media marketing person…”

The Apache Passion Project, as well as Doug Jr.’s brand Indellica, is meant to show Indigenous youth how to reach their peak performance not only as skaters, but as future leaders. “We’re trying to put those ideas into the clothing, into the skate videos, into the culture,” Doug Jr. explains. “It’s all about the community and survival and strengthening the people around me.”

Terrel Lee / 20

How old were you when you started skating and what do you love most about it?
I was 14 years old when I first started. I think what I love the most about skateboarding is the growth and the journey of progressing. [When] I started I wasn’t the best. But as I progressed, I learned. And as I learned, I began to fall in love with the feeling of learning tricks, rolling down hills, just being around the whole skate atmosphere. It’s become my passion because the sport [made me] who I have become today as a person.

What has the sport taught you about yourself and your community?
That not everyone will support the cause. But at the end of the day, it’s all about the people who actually skate and who will determine the future of skateboarding in our community.

Carlton Goseyun / 18

How old were you when you started skating and what do you love most about it?
I started skating when I was about 16. What I love about skateboarding is it took me away from all the negative stuff that’s in the community I grew up in. I love getting on my board and skating with my friends. It changed me to become the person I am today. And [it helped me stay] away from drugs

What has the sport taught you about yourself and your community?
Skateboarding has taught me how to be supportive to others and how to become a better person.

Tommy Martinez Jr. / 15

How old were you when you started skating and what do you love most about it?
I started skateboarding at age 14. I just love having fun skating with my homies and trying new things.

What has the sport taught you about yourself and your community?
Skateboarding has taught me to only have fun and to SEND IT! Also, skateboarding [for me] has been getting attached to others in my community to just go out and have some fun skating.

Why is your passion for skating important?
Skateboarding is my passion because it’s my life. I skate to forget about everything and to forget my problems and worries. Skating has just always been on my mind and it always will be.

Josef Chee / 17

How old were you when you started skating and what do you love most about it?
I’ve been into skating for about two years, so I was 15 [when I started]. The thing I love most about skating is the satisfaction of landing a trick that you put so much effort into. 

What has the sport taught you about yourself and your community?
If I were to be honest, I have no idea.

Why is your passion important?
My passion towards skating is important ‘cause it helps me be active, keeps me from being locked up in my house and helps me kinda cope with my depression.

Rylan Gushoney / 14

How old were you when you started skating and what do you love most about it?
I was 13 when I started. The [thing I loved most] was learning all these tricks and just watching people doing it inspired me.

What has the sport taught you about yourself and your community?
This sport has taught me how to not give up. And that the community and little kids look up to me, I guess.

Why is your passion for skating important?
It helps me relax. [Skateboarding] is my therapy, it takes all my problems away.

To support the Apache Passion Project, donate here.

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Credits

Photography and Creative Direction Douglas Miles Sr.

Production Douglas Miles Jr.

Douglas Miles Jr. wears shirt Indellica, shoes Converse CONS, Real Skateboards and Spitfire Wheels.
All skaters wear T-shirts Indellica, hoodies The Indian Expert and Apache Skateboards.

Especially since our goddess Björk will star as the ‘Slav Witch’ in the upcoming film, titled The Northman, accompanied by actors of a similar tenured stature, including Nicole Kidman, Willem Dafoe, Anya Taylor-Joy, and Ethan Hawke. Alexander Skarsgård will be playing the film’s lead protagonist, a Viking prince named Amleth, on a mission to avenge his father’s death. But we all know who the real star is here, come on. Apologies, Alexander.

Following several lengthy production delays (courtesy of Miss Rona, whose days are now hopefully getting to be numbered), The Northman is set to premiere on 8 April 2022. The Viking revenge saga is set in Iceland at the turn of the 10th century, and its screenplay was written by Eggers together with Icelandic writer Sjón, who has also collaborated with Björk on various tracks including ‘Cosmogony’, ‘Jóga’ and ‘Oceania’.

The maverick director has suggested that The Northman will be his most ambitious production to date. Despite the pause on filming, the film’s production team continued work on props, costumes, and more for the project over the summer of 2020. 

“There’s a very small crew that is continuing to work on things,” Eggers told Film Independent at the time. “Armor makers are working on armor for the characters. Prosthetics are being made. I’m doing my work with the DP [Jarin Blaschke] and the storyboard artist. There are things that need to be happening. Our location manager is constantly checking in on the locations, some of which are just now semi-built sets.” 

He continued: “The scale is so huge and there are so many more locations and things that I couldn’t do everything or know every prop myself. That’s been a challenge with the new movie.”

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For the third and final chapter, we return to the British capital to meet Milan-born photographer and i-D contributor Giovanni Corabi. Here, he shares his thoughts on how lockdown has shifted his perspectives on city life, alongside a truly captivating series of images of the Club C Maison Margiela sneaker -- the result of a marriage between Reebok’s iconic Club C silhouette and the Parisian fashion house’s iconic trompe l’oeil technique.

Where are you currently?

I'm in my flat in London.

How have you adjusted to living and working more locally over lockdown?

We didn't really have a choice in the matter, and it makes sense for us to travel less and to be more cautious. But has made things harder at times. While respecting the rules, though, you have to try and keep your life as normal as possible. You have to take care of yourself and the people around you, but you have to try and move forward, even if it's not at the pace you're used to.

How has the past year affected your relationship to London?

It’s changed my perspective, not just on London, but on the way we live more generally. I’ve realised that, sometimes, we feel like we have to live and experience a city in a certain way, just because that's the way it's been presented to us. When I moved to London in 2013, it was to study at Central Saint Martins, and then I stayed and worked. To me, it was this amazing place where you connect with different people from different places, and it offered a lot of different professional opportunities. But this period has changed a lot of things -- we’ve had to adjust our perspectives on places and how we experience them. I appreciate the city, but sometimes there's a need for nature and space. I managed to spend some times in the mountains in Switzerland between jobs, and it made me appreciate having somewhere like London as a working base while making me reflect on the amount of time I actually want -- or need -- to spend in the city. I'm not sure that I've come to the final understanding of the way I want to experience things, spaces and places, but it has given me another point of view, which is always interesting.

What about how you engage with the community that you're part of there?

I’ve realised how much I valued the time that we all used to spend together. During the first lockdown, I moved to Shoreditch. It's the part of the city I knew best, just because it's where you always go to hang out, for dinners and things like that. But moving here and experiencing something completely different does make me miss the times when you would meet up with friends, or even people that you work with. Sometimes, I had to drag myself to dinners, but now, I would run to them! I think we’ve all come to appreciate human contact a lot more. We're social animals, after all -- we have to have interaction.

On the whole, do you think the impact on your work has been beneficial?

Well, I don't know what the year would have brought if it weren't for the pandemic. I think that these unusual circumstances have brought new perspectives, for sure, and I think it's important to always try and turn every difficult situation into a lesson or a point for reflection. With regard to my practice, the experiences we have inevitably influence what we do. So I think I’ve been influenced by the past year, but I don't know whether it was positive or negative. I've just tried to keep developing, even though the pace of the world was slowing down. With every job I’ve taken, I've really tried to put in time, effort and consideration into what I’m doing.

How did you approach shooting the Club C Maison Margiela sneaker?

I did the shoot in my flat in London. I wanted the images to feel like they were really coming from my world, so I wanted to include the house. The weekend I shot them, it was very sunny, and things just felt quite positive, despite everything going on at the moment. I wanted to keep it light, playful, positive and natural -- to convey this idea of making do with what you have around you.

The Club C Maison Margiela sneaker will be available to buy on the 21st of May on reebok.com, maisonmargiela.com and in Maison Margiela boutiques worldwide.

Sakura

Where are you currently?

Tokyo!

How have you adjusted to living and working more locally over lockdown?

Almost everyone has to work more locally at the moment, so I haven’t looked at the current situation as a negative thing. I think it’s allowed me more time to put my energy into things that I'd never really looked into before. I’ve started making my own music videos, for example, thinking about I can really represent Tokyo in my work. Tokyo has such a strong street culture, and I think embody many different aspects of that -- it’s a city where you can wear anything and be anybody and no one is going to say anything about it.

How has the past year affected your relationship to Tokyo and the community that you're part of there?

Since the pandemic began, I think I’ve started to focus more on what’s important to me, and I have deeper connections and closer communication with the people who are important to me. I'm more focused on being here in Tokyo and what's around me. 

On the whole, do you think the impact on your work has been beneficial?

I've taken the situation really positively. After all, things happen for a reason. Before the pandemic, I never really used to like being home alone; I used to go out and try to meet new people every day. But now, I’ve had more time to really look within and become more sensitive to what I really feel, rather than what I look like. I've been bullied before for being mixed race, but now I know that that's my strength -- it's what makes me special. I love to show what makes me different, and I think that that’s representative of the mindset of Japanese youth today.

How did you approach shooting the Classic Leather Tabi High sneaker?

Because it was a Margiela sneaker, I decided to be a bit more formal and put on a tailored jacket, instead of the leather jacket I’d usually wear. I still chose to wear jeans and keep my usual style, but I wanted to bring together formal and super casual vibes -- to bring two worlds together. 

Lukas Olgac

Where are you currently?

I’m currently in Berlin.

How have you adjusted to living and working more locally over lockdown?

It hasn't been a big change for me, as I've always worked from home. It's just a shame that we can no longer go to events and that all our meetings are now only taking place digitally. 

How has the past year affected your relationship to Berlin and the community that you're part of there?

Going for daily walks has actually allowed me to re-discover my neighbourhood in a new way. These days, my inner circle of friends is quite small compared to what it was in eventful, busy pre-Covid Berlin. This whole lockdown situation has really shown who is a close friend and cares about you. 

On the whole, do you think the impact on your work has been beneficial?

Yes, because a lot of clients are now asking for CGI work. When the pandemic first hit, people were really limited in terms of photoshoots and this is a problem that has continued since. Accordingly, many brands are looking for alternative ways to produce content. 

How did you approach shooting the Classic Leather Tabi sneaker?

I wanted to show what my life is like at the moment, during this pandemic; whether that’s at home just lying on the sofa, or outside, walking and discovering new environments. I also found it fun to play around with the split-toe.

Lukas is wearing the Classic Leather Tabi sneaker which will be available to buy on the 21st of May  on reebok.com, maisonmargiela.com and in Maison Margiela boutiques worldwide.

Sakura is wearing the Classic Leather Tabi High sneaker which will be available to buy on the 18th of June on reebok.com, maisonmargiela.com and in Maison Margiela boutiques worldwide.

Credits

Sakura images

Model SAKURA (PUMP mgmt)
Photographer Saeka Shimada (@saeka_adamiss)

Since its release on 4 May 2001, the film has retained its cultural longevity mostly through repeated appearances on lists of sequels that are considered to be better than the original. But that’s not the only reason it stands out: it might sound bizarre but, in the two decades since its release, The Mummy Returns has also emerged as a gay classic. 

This recontextualisation, while surprising, is not a new phenomenon. Indeed there’s no shortage of films which have been reconsidered as queer in the years since their release — Kill Bill, Mulan, Titanic, to name but three. And of course, The Mummy Returns isn’t especially “gay” in the traditional sense: there’s no romance or ‘coming out’ narrative that was missed at the time. Evelyn’s (Rachel Weisz) brother Jonathan (John Hannah) — who is characterised as a bumbling beta male — does feel coded as gay (albeit in a retrospectively problematic, early noughties sense). Patricia Velásquez, who plays vengeful and beautiful villain Anck Su Namun, came out as a lesbian after the film’s release. But there are lots more factors that make gay men especially likely to love this film, particularly at this precise moment in popular culture.

The most obvious factor, firstly, is thirst. Brendan Fraser, then at the peak of his bimbo acting career, stars as Rick O’Connell, a sort of trigger-happy, arrogant-but-caring, adventurous but domesticated father figure and husband. It’s not difficult to see why queer men might be very responsive to the image of a sweaty and windswept Brendan, with his oh-so-chiselled jaw, endangering (then saving) his son and wife from near-death experiences. It also makes sense that this affection might have grown over time, given social media was recently flooded with praise for Brendan, who fell away from acting not long after The Mummy Returns’ release. He’s been hailed as a “great unifier of the modern internet” and fans have been calling for a “Brenaissance” — which, if A24 have anything to do with it, might be right around the corner.

For viewers who are more into baddies than daddies, Arnold Vosloo’s Imhotep — an evil 3,000-year-old mummy who was accidentally awoken in the franchise’s first instalment, only to return for vengeance — is there too, constantly half naked, covered in oil and decorative jewellery. The Mummy Returns also features Dwayne Johnson in his first major film role, which led to his first starring role in the similarly oiled-up and scantily clad spin-off The Scorpion King (2002). So in terms of bringing ancient era thirst and men in eye-liner to our attention, The Mummy franchise really walked so Game of Thrones himbos — like Dothraki king Khal Drogo (Jason Momoa) — could run.

Something even more important than hot guys working up a sweat in the Sahara (if that’s possible) is the presence of Rachel Weisz. An actor idolised by gay men and lusted after by queer women, Rachel plays Evelyn Carnahan — an archaeological scholar-turned-explorer, wife of Rick and mother to eight-year-old son Alex — who truly discovered the first tomb at Stonewall. Culture writer Jill Gutowitz thinks Rachel’s queer icon status has grown over time. She wrote that in 2018 (a year nicknamed “20gayteen” because of its significance in queer pop culture) that she became the “unofficial straight LGBTQ+ ambassador”. Jill argues that Rachel “ushed in a wave of standom that I’ve never quite seen in the queer female community” (and she’s “manifesting” a lesbian reboot of The Mummy too).

It’s unsurprising that 2018 was a watershed moment for Rachel’s LGBTQ+ fanbase. That same year she starred in The Favourite as Olivia Colman’s gun-toting, manipulative lover and opposite Rachel McAdams in tense romantic drama Disobedience (which features a hyper-sexual scene where Rachel literally spits in her mouth). 

But, as film critic Guy Lodge explains, Rachel’s queer following precedes these roles, and goes all the way back to her early aughts career. “It's tempting to speculate that part of the reason she took these roles was as a winking nod to that [queer icon] status,” he says. “There has always been an independent, self-possessed quality even to her romantic leads that could read as queer, in its rejection of patriarchal power: the cool art student who seduces and makes over Paul Rudd as an academic experiment in Neil LaBute's The Shape of Things, for example, or the fearless activist who riles men in power in her Oscar-winning role in The Constant Gardener.” 

Rachel’s role in The Mummy Returns leans towards a classic heroine role, but it’s notable that both Evelyn and villain Anck Su Namun hold equal weight in the film to their male counterparts, which does feel unusual for 2001. “Weisz plays [Evelyn] as an intellectual foil to Brendan Fraser's beefcake adventurer: they're on an equal footing,” Guy says. “By the end of The Mummy Returns, they're swapping the damsel-in-distress position between them: to quote Pretty Woman, she rescues him right back.”

In the film, Evelyn is a reincarnation of Princess Nefertiri, a sworn enemy of Anck Su Namun. Part of the film revolves around Imhotep’s lover seeking vengeance on the princess (now Evelyn). We don’t have to look far to see contemporary examples of gay men stanning female conflict: Ryan Murphy’s Feud (2017), a show which dramatised the famous Hollywood rivalry between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, is an obvious example. As are Bridesmaids, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Real Housewives, Mean Girls and the salivation over alleged feuds like Britney Spears vs Christina Aguilera and Mariah Carey vs Jennifer Lopez. It’s well noted that this dynamic, which pervades gay stan culture, can easily lapse into misogyny. But that doesn’t mean that Evelyn vs Anck Su Namun’s lust-driven rivalry isn’t a part of why gay men might love The Mummy Returns.

The setting of ancient Egypt is also particularly pleasing to gay viewers. John J Johnston, an Egyptologist, classicist and cultural historian, tells me that the Egyptian emphasis on decoration — which is hyper-visible in The Mummy Returns — is particularly aesthetically appealing to the queer gaze. “The ancient Egyptian elite were decorated: they shaved their heads, they wore makeup and, to our eyes, outrageous costumes – irrespective of gender,” he says. “Self-presentation is very entwined with gay culture. Lots of gay men always go that additional mile to make sure that they look just the way that they want to, which is a very Egyptian idea.”

John says the discovery of ancient pharaoh Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1922 changed ancient Egypt’s place in visual culture. “There is an element of excess and luxury, that the discovery of the tomb certainly exacerbated. Suddenly, the colour one associated with ancient Egypt is gold,” he says. This decadent version of Egypt was then embraced by the west. In the 1920s, it formed a key part of the art deco movement, with its influence visible everywhere from the wardrobe of flapper girls to New York City’s Chrysler Building. Cleopatra (1963) starred Elizabeth Taylor (a gay icon herself) and leaned into this image of opulence, while Disney’s Prince of Egypt featured an Oscar-winning duet from gay faves Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston. In the last few years, both Katy Perry and Rihanna have released Egypt-themed music videos for “Dark Horse” and “Where Have You Been?” 

Even today, Egypt seems to enjoy publicly teasing Hollywood’s narrative adaptations of its ancient culture. Last month, Cairo truly looked camp in the eye by staging a historical procession of their country's ancient rulers through the capital. The lavish, multimillion-dollar spectacle saw 22 mummies transported from the Egyptian Museum to a new resting place 5km away. Each mummy was carried on a decorated vehicle and surrounded by a motorcade, including replica horse-drawn war chariots. The golden procession was reminiscent of Billy Porter’s glittering entrance to 2019’s camp-themed Met Gala.

There’s an interesting thematic element to The Mummy franchise and the recurring motif of resurrection. Imhotep is brought back to life after 3,000 years. As its title suggests, the sequel features this process happening once again. John says the ancient Egyptians actually found the idea of reincarnation offensive. “Reincarnation is very appealing to Hollywood, but that’s not the Egyptian way at all — it would have filled them with horror,” he says. “Once you were gone, you were gone. And you would spend the rest of eternity in the afterlife as yourself.”  But resurrection, or returning to fight another day, is an enduring motif within gay culture — particularly when it’s presented in a campy, dramatic way. From the Emma Roberts “Surprise bitch, I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me” meme to Buffy Summers rising from the dead, and the popularisation of Taylor Swift’s “Reputation era” as a byword for ‘coming back to silence your critics’, all the way back to gay classic Mommie Dearest’s iconic line “this ain’t my first rodeo”, gay men often love the spectacle of survival. 

Writer and researcher Ben Miller, co-host of Bad Gays, a podcast about evil and complicated gays from history, says ideas of reinvention and longevity — like Anck Su Namun reigniting her 3000-year-old beef with Rachel Weisz, or the one-time rulers of ancient Egypt being paraded through Cairo — can be important to gay men. Look no further than Judy Garland, Madonna, Britney Spears and Renee Zellweger to see how western gay culture idolises comeback queens who refuse to become irrelevant. “There is a celebration of trials and tribulations, but also survival that has been important for a lot of gay people,” he says. “Judy Garland was loved for her excessively emotional performances, but also because she represents the idea of moving through a world that was not designed for you.” 

The Mummy Returns is very chaotic and doom-filled too. It often feels like there’s a gay expectation for chaos and disaster that’s projected onto the pop culture we enjoy, from icons like Judy and Britney to tragic operas about ‘fallen women’, the horror-film trope of the ‘final girl’ and even the Marie Kondo “I love mess!” gif. Ben cites the Twitter account Liza Minelli Outlives, as an example of how both the expectation of doom, but also the celebration of escaping it, are mapped onto gay icons — particularly women. “On one hand, it's this wonderful celebration of Liza, but on the other hand, she’s only in her early seventies. So it’s not surprising she’s still alive,” he says. “Recently it tweeted ‘Liza Minelli outlives Prince Philip’, but she’s literally 25 years younger than he was, so why are we expecting her to be dead?”

We could unpack the queerness of The Mummy Returns for a millennium (or three), because ultimately it represents a gay fantasy. It’s a film where icons die then resurge to live again, where the men are ripped and handsome, while the women are powerful survivors, determined to settle 3000-year-old grudges. All this chaos unfolds against a backdrop of ancient prophecies and Egyptian glamour — it’s high-camp, high-drama… and a little bit crap (the official Rotten Tomatoes rating is 47%). So twenty years on, we shouldn’t be surprised that The Mummy Returns has been re-appraised as a very gay classic. All things considered, how could it not be?

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However, this isn’t the first time the worlds of Ghibli and Pixar have intertwined. Totoro himself makes an appearance in 2010’s Toy Story 3 as a large, plush soft toy. You have to appreciate the realism. But even before that, the biggest names from each studio — Hayao Miyazaki and John Lasseter, from Ghibli and Pixar respectively — have a history of their own. 

According to the Tokyo-based news site SoraNews24: “The two first met way back in 1980, during pre-production talks for a proposed animated adaptation of Little Nemo.” And later, when Lasseter visited Japan, “he made sure to stop by the Ghibli Museum, where he drew a signed sketch of Woody and Buzz Lightyear from Toy Story on a wall inside the projection room of the Saturn Theatre, which can still be seen to this day.”

So while we probably aren’t getting a reboot in the way of a My Neighbour Totoro, Inc. film, the evidence points to the legendary animation studios having an enduring appreciation of one another, that may well lead to some incredible, fusional, cinematic art in the future. Fingers crossed!

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The sequel, so far titled Attack The Block 2 (self-explanatory), will bring audiences “an even bigger slice of inner-city alien action”, Joe and production company Studio Canal said today. And while the actual plot of the movie is still under wraps, the fact John is returning means we’re already excited. 

With an ensemble cast that also featured Nick Frost, Franz Drameh and Jodie Whittaker, the critically-acclaimed original film was a reaction to the ‘hoodie horror’ trend of the early aughts, which the director felt diminished young people living in London and other densely populated urban areas. In development for Attack the Block, Joe worked with youth groups across the capital, asking teenagers what kind of weapons they’d use if a real alien invasion occurred, and factoring this into the plot.

As well as reprising his starring role, John Boyega will also be on board to produce the film as well, alongside Nira Park and James Wilson, Deadline reports. “It’s been a decade since Attack the Block was released and so much has changed since then,” the actor said in a statement. “I’m excited to see this heightened story return to the streets of London. Moses has remained one of my favourite characters to play and bringing him back is a huge honour.”

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San wears jacket and skirt by Jenny Fax see thru top by Yuhan Wang. Din wears black and white shirt by Motoguo.

Left: Saint Laurent shirt, Balenciaga trousers and shoes, glasses model’s own. Right: Fila x Wood Wood track jacket, Saint Laurent trousers, Angus Chiang shoes.

Dress by No Dress.

Front: dress and heels by Versace. Back: cosplay outfit stylist’s own.

Granny wears top by Shushu Tong, trousers by Armani Exchange, slippers by Yuhan Wang. Dindin wears top by Isa Boulder, trousers by Motoguo, shoes by Angus Chiang.

Left: Top and trousers by Saint Laurent, shoes Angus Chiang. Right: top by Commission NYC, trousers and shoes by Balenciaga

Dress by Yuhan Wang.

Latex corset stylist’s own.

Top by Shushu Tong.

Shirt and trousers by Motoguo.

Jacket and leggings by NO DRESS, shoes by Bottega Veneta.

Granny wears jacket by Angus Chiang on San: jacket by Jenny Fax, lace top by Yuhan Wang.

Credits

Photography Zhong Lin 
Styling Mark Jen Hsu   

Hair Weic Lin 
Makeup Sting Hsieh 
Photo assistance Yuanling Wang, Yinghan Wang  
Styling assistance Johnny Lin , Li Kuan Zhen
Hair assistance Jeremy Chen
Makeup assistance Ted Kuo

Models: 
Lee Po Hsuan
SANXINJU
Din Din
DaJun 
Jun 
Granny Gin 
LuuQoo  
Clairo

Nuvany currently lives with her mom and two brothers in Jersey City (her photography class has shifted to online schooling). In March last year, just as the world was overtaken by a pandemic, her maternal grandparents moved in with them after years of living abroad, most recently in Kenya. Pastor Ugo, or grandpa to Nuvany, has lived an illustrious life travelling the world as an educator, photographer, athlete and army veteran. During the last year, Nuvany got to know him much better -- and so when it came to this project, she riffed on the idea of framing a timeless wardrobe staple with the time-spanning story of her grandfather’s life.

“He is the epitome of a timeless man,” she says. “Even though he's 72 years old, he's like the most youthful person.” Shifting her lens from the young people she grew up with to someone she had only recently become much closer to, resulted in an interesting exploration of dreaming big -- of seeing just how much is possible for the future, simply by examining the past. “I feel like capturing younger people is kind of like photographing the present, whereas this has been going back in time in someone's life, trying to bring it up to the present.”

Here, we caught up with Nuvany to discover how she’s bringing her unique perspective to image-making. 

Hi Nuvany! You’ve described your work as documenting the beauty of adolescence. What do you think is beautiful about adolescence?
I feel like younger people are more unapologetic. I feel like it's rawer and more interesting for me to photograph people who're fully themselves and free. I guess because I like how unapologetic young people are, especially the young people that I surround myself with. It's been really interesting photographing people that I've known for so long, at that time of our lives where we are all coming into our own art, who we want to be and the paths that we want to take.

Your project was all about your grandfather and he's the opposite of an adolescent! Can you tell us a bit about the idea behind it?
I was writing down a bunch of different ideas and trying to think of what is important to me right now, and the people who have been helping me through this time in my life. And I've grown really, really close to my grandfather since the pandemic. He actually moved back to the US after living in Kenya for the past four years. He's always been someone that I really look up to, but also someone who I didn't have the time to get to know. So, it was like catching up on 10 years and we grew really close. I’ve been very inspired by his story and I thought it would be really important to tell it. 

Your grandfather has lived a really fascinating life. He was in the military and then went into sports, right? Can you tell us a bit about some of these chapters that you're focusing on?
My grandfather is a pastor. He has been in the ministry for almost 40 years now and has been in the mission field almost half of his career.  My grandfather was in the US Army for 20 years; he retired in 2000 and moved to Dallas, Georgia.  The military was a huge part of his life, bouncing around different bases- the places they lived in included South Korea, Germany, Spain, and Maryland.  And then, while he was in the military, he was a member of the US Army All Army Soccer Squad for three consecutive years. 

Growing up in Nigeria, my grandfather played soccer all his life. He played semi-professional in Nigeria before he left for Europe. While in Spain and Germany respectively, my grandfather played with some lower division clubs, but could not play professional. He said Africans who played professionally in Europe in the 70s, required their countries’ Football Associations’ approval before they were signed  with European Clubs. He said when he requested for permission from the Nigerian Football Association he never heard back from them. While stationed in Stuttgart Vaihingen, Germany in 1987, my grandfather said he received the B Soccer Trainer License. He coached Middle and Higher-schoolers everywhere he was stationed; including my uncle Ralph Jr. and my mom. And now, he coaches both my younger brothers who have dreams of being soccer players, too. I wanted to explore all of these different chapters of his life.

Was there anything that surprised you about him when you started working on this project?
I actually didn't know that he had given up his soccer dream when he met my grandmother. I didn't know that it was something that he had kind of sacrificed, to pursue being a pastor and studying more about his religion. That was really interesting. Oh, yeah, and he was also doing a lot of photography, too!

I think when he was 18, he moved from Nigeria, where he lived all his life up till then, to Spain. My grandfather had a degree in English when he was in the Army.  When he retired, he worked with Paulding County, School System, Dallas, Georgia as Spanish/English teacher at the Middle and High Schools.  My grandfather stopped teaching when their Non-Profit Benevolence/Outreach Ministry and the Foreign Missions Ministry got very demanding.  I am very thankful to God that my grandfather is alive today, giving me this opportunity to enjoy such a beautiful relationship we have; and to be able to photograph and write about him. 

It must also be really interesting to be working on a project with someone who's a lot older. Have you found it at all challenging, or different to how you usually work? 
With photographing younger people, it's interesting seeing how our lives are just beginning. I feel like it’s been really different working with someone who already has lived so much life and having so many different memories to work with. It’s been nice trying to almost recreate the most important moments. 

For your generation of photographers, you’re beginning your careers at a time when the world has never been more saturated with images. What do you think the role of the photographer is today?
I feel like my generation has been really surprised by how strongly our voices are being heard -- in terms of all of the racial injustices that have been going on, and even the pandemic. I feel like we have been so present. And I feel like, as a photographer, you can use that same platform to use your voice and express all of these different things that are going on.