Features - UNCLE

Features07.2507.25Conditions Studio

There’s something quietly radical happening in Croydon. Conditions Studio. Founded by artist and educator Matthew Noel-Tod, Conditions is challenging the concept of art education. Instead, it offers something more grounded and intimate than the traditional art school machine. It’s a space to grow, to question, and to make.

“It is run by artists for artists and that is important to us.”

The structure is simple, and it plays to that. Artists are offered individual studio spaces alongside regular group critiques, public exhibitions and tutor sessions. Dialogue is just as important as output at Conditions, and the art coming out of the Croydon studio reinforces this. One of those public exhibitions, supported by UNCLE, is HARDCORE / LOVE. It’s a bold double bill of Mark Leckey’s classic Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore and Arthur Jafa’s devastating Love is the Message, The Message is Death. It’s a dialogue between the two artists and their iconic work.

“The exhibition is a powerful presentation, there are no frills, it is just the works in a dark room, facing each other.”

As they geared up to open HARDCORE / LOVE, we caught up with Matthew to talk about his early inspirations, the studio’s beginnings, and what it means to make art outside the centre of London.

FIRSTLY, CAN YOU TELL US WHAT CONDITIONS IS ALL ABOUT?

Conditions is an independent ‘art school’. We call it a ‘studio-programme’ and it is conceived in the tradition of studio schools and artist-run spaces. It is run by artists for artists and that is important to us. What we offer is ‘low-cost’ in relation to going to university or art school and we have a DIY ethos. This doesn’t mean we are not serious about art, but it does mean that we like to do things quickly and responsively, which larger organisations often can’t do. We are trying to offer an alternative to the rising costs of both studio space and education for artists in London.

BY DEFINITION, CONDITIONS REFERS TO THE PHYSICAL SITUATION THAT SOMEONE OR SOMETHING IS IN AND AFFECTED BY. WHAT DOES THE WORD MEAN TO YOU AND THE STUDIO?

I think this is the enduring quality of the name. Yes, it does mean physical situations, but it is also relevant to social, emotional and political situations, and these are all the factors that influence the making and viewing of art. Our name is about the conditions of being an artist, the conditions of the life and the world you are in at this moment.

YOU’RE AN ARTIST AND AN EDUCATOR, WHAT IS YOUR HISTORY? WERE YOU ALWAYS AROUND ART? DID YOU STUDY IT?

To go way back, I was expelled from high-school aged 15, which at the time felt like a disaster, but the solitude of that experience connected me intensely with art, photography, film and music and my way forward was to go to art school. I went to art school in the last year of free higher education in the UK and that always stays with me. The freedom that afforded you – including the freedom to not do what you were tasked with doing. I studied at what was then called Norwich School of Art & Design and as a student I was very lucky to start working for Lynda Morris, the curator of Norwich Gallery and EAST International. When I left Norwich, Lynda joked that working for her was my real art education, and she was probably right. Her programming was incredibly ambitious, and I loved the fact that it was a small regional art school gallery with some of the best artists in the world showing in it. I know that this logic influenced me in being confident on how you could bring something with very serious art ambitions to a non-descript location in Croydon.

ALBEIT VERY REWARDING, RUNNING AN INDEPENDENT ALTERNATIVE TO TRADITIONAL ART STUDIOS MUST HAVE SOME CHALLENGES. WHAT KEEPS YOU MOTIVATED?

It can be exhausting, and you must be prepared to be the caretaker when doing a project like Conditions. I also think it is important to do this work. Art is not always magical at every step of the way, there is a lot of pushing stuff around, mentally and physically. On the programmes at Conditions, I get to work with great artists in an environment which is free from many of value judgement you get elsewhere: the focus is on the work and the conversation around the work.

THE STUDIO PROGRAMME COMBINES INDIVIDUAL SPACES WITH GROUP CRITIQUES AND PUBLIC EVENTS, SUCH AS HARDCORE / LOVE. HOW DOES THIS STRUCTURE SUPPORT BOTH PERSONAL AND COLLECTIVE ARTISTIC GROWTH?

The main thing I would say, is confidence building. The sociality of a group can really give people permission to make things they would have hesitated to do before. It is also important to exhibit that work, made by artists in the studios, which we regularly do. Involving Conditions in other projects, such as what we have done with ICA, NTS radio, Ormside Projects and now with the HARDCORE / LOVE exhibition allows people to be connected to the wider field of culture in what is hopefully a very meaningful way.

CONDITIONS ALSO RUN AN ONLINE MENTOR-LED PROGRAMME. HOW DOES THAT WORK ALONGSIDE THE IN-PERSON EXPERIENCE, PARTICULARLY FOR THOSE OUTSIDE LONDON?

This was something that we originally did under the circumstances of COVID, to keep people connected when studio work was hard. I eventually realised that there are many artists who don’t always need a studio space, or they need to fit it in around other parts of their lives, and that the dialogue that Conditions offers was as important as the physical space. It’s also another part of the ‘low-cost’ offer: some people could not afford a studio space but would want the conversation around their work and this was something we could provide. In the first year it was amazing how international the online group was and that again is a part of the broader sociality of something like Conditions. We once had a Zoom party during lockdown that went on until 5am, that always stuck with me as meaning that people were happy to connect online.

THIS PARTNERSHIP WITH UNCLE IS FOR THE EXHIBITION HARDCORE / LOVE WITH ARTISTS ARTHUR JAFA AND MARK LECKEY. CAN YOU TELL US A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THIS EXHIBITION?

It’s an amazing exhibition and the route to it happening was quite unusual as we are not a traditional gallery space. Gavin Brown, the New York based gallerist who grew up in Croydon, had heard about Conditions and got in touch with us. We were talking with him about doing something in Croydon and these two works Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore (1999) by Mark Leckey and Love is the Message, The Message is Death (2016) by Arthur Jafa came up. Gavin had such an important role in bringing these works to an audience originally. Our idea was the dialogue between the two works, a ‘call and response’ loop, and this was compounded by the friendship and respect that Mark and Arthur have for each other. So, the exhibition is a powerful presentation, there are no frills, it is just the works in a dark room, facing each other. To stage it in a half-empty shopping centre in Croydon seems very appropriate to the content of the videos, in that it is a space that is there to be interpreted. They are both videos whose meanings are authored by society as much as the artists and I think that they play with a lot more power outside of a museum context. The project with Gavin is also about fundraising for Conditions’ long-term future, raising awareness and gathering supporters.

WHAT DO YOU LOOK FOR WHEN IT COMES TO DECIDING WHAT ARTWORKS TO SHOWCASE AT CONDITIONS AND WHICH ARTIST TO WORK WITH?

Our focus is mainly on platforming the work of the artists on the studio programme. We have done other projects and exhibitions as a way of raising the profile of Conditions and of showing art that we think is good.

AS A CROYDON-BASED STUDIO, HOW DOES CONDITIONS FIT INTO THE LARGER ART ECOSYSTEM OF LONDON?

It cuts across a few of the London art eco-systems and I’m happy with it being a bit free-floating. Some people access Conditions more because they like the studios, others access it more because they want an experience of art education which they have not had. I find it interesting to work on a relatively small scale and occasionally do bigger events. It keeps things exciting.

CAN YOU TELL US A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE ARTWORK ON THIS FLYPOSTING CAMPAIGN?

I thought long and hard about designing these posters. There was an open brief, which was nice, but with such well-known artworks it was important to me to make an identity that conveyed our whole exhibition concept, not just two well-known images. The idea was to link the global and the local, or provincial. In Love is the Message, The Message is Death there is recurring images of the sun, but also this line “the building is on fire” which seems like the tension between the heat and intensity of the sun, of violence and the sun as a life-giver and that dynamic frames a lot of the video: there is life and there is death. With Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore the rave images are very widely circulated, but it starts with a landscape and clouds and loops back to this cold and romantic vista of a figure in a landscape with what looks like a pirate radio mast. It’s a romantic painting and it’s blue and cold, the opposite colour temperature to the sun. It was also a peripheral image – that the post-rave pirate radio mast landscape could feasibly be a place like Croydon and the figure was spiritually lost. With the font and the text, I wanted to suggest rave posters that you see on lampposts and hoardings. They often state a place, but no specific address, so you have to find it yourself. I gave the text to two of the artists who are at Conditions, Cameron Harris and Bobby Ingham, and they came up with the layout and font. We did a lot of testing to see how it would actually work in the street, and I think it was very successful.

WITH APPLICATIONS OPENING SOON, WHAT ADVICE DO YOU HAVE FOR EMERGING ARTISTS HOPING TO JOIN CONDITIONS STUDIO?

Be real about the work and don’t think it’s not relevant to you. It’s more important to us to connect an interesting group of people, than to look at everyone’s CVs. Also do it if it is the right time for you. That’s important to listen to how you feel. i.e. what your capacity is, instead of feeling that you might be missing out on something.

https://conditions.studio

“Breakers means anyone breaking a mould – not just dancers, but people carving their own path.”

That definition, offered by designer and co-editor Sebastián Esguerra, sits at the heart of Breakers Magazine, a print-first platform rooted in breaking but reaching far beyond it. Founded by Paris-born dancer Tom Chaix in 2021 while living on Réunion Island, Breakers began as a self-taught experiment in editorial storytelling. Inspired by the likes of The Surfer’s Journal and independent skate zines, Chaix envisioned a magazine that could do for breaking what print culture had long done for other street movements: document it with care, creativity, and intent.

Now five issues deep, Breakers has evolved into a bilingual, community-built project run between Paris and Montpellier, with an extended network of contributors around the world. It’s as likely to include essays on dance as it is portfolios on graffiti, interviews with hip-hop academics, or short stories that orbit the culture in more abstract ways. Its design sensibility, led by Esguerra is raw, tactile, and always evolving. More than just a magazine, Breakers has become a kind of ecosystem: producing events, collaborating on video and editorial projects, and working with cultural spaces across France.

Their latest collaboration with UNCLE sees Breakers return to the street, this time through a wildposting campaign that turns pages into posters. Bold quotes pulled from past issues now line Paris walls, inviting passersby into the world they’ve built. “It’s not just marketing,” says Tom. “It’s part of our DNA. DIY, physical, public-facing. Just like breaking itself.”
At the centre of everything is a belief in community over clout. Their Tribe Tales event series, channels that same ethos: bringing crews together not just to battle, but to build. For Breakers, success isn’t measured in followers or sales, but in relationships and in staying true to the culture that raised them.

What follows is a conversation with the two co-leads Tom and Sebastián, about their creative process, how to grow something without diluting it, and what it means to build a platform that’s local, global, and rooted in real movement.

CAN YOU INTRODUCE YOURSELVES IN YOUR OWN WORDS?

TOM: I’m Tom Chaix. I was born in Paris but didn’t grow up there, I’ve spent most of my life abroad. I started Breakers Magazine in 2021, during a period of reset on Réunion Island, just off the coast of Madagascar. I was trained as a civil engineer, but I’ve been breaking for over a decade now. That mix of technical background and creative curiosity led me to try something new. The magazine began as a personal experiment: a way to learn design, writing, and publishing on my own terms and to offer breaking the kind of visual and editorial culture that exists in skateboarding or surfing. I did the first edition solo, but thanks to that, I met Sebastián and from there, we started building a collective.

SEBASTIÁN: I’m Sebastián Esguerra. I grew up in Colombia and moved to France a few years ago. My background isn’t in dance, it’s in skateboarding, football, photography, and design. I’ve always been close to hip-hop through friends and creative projects, but it was when I saw Tom’s first issue of Breakers that I really felt connected. Even though it focused on breaking, it wasn’t just about moves or battles, it was about the lives, the stories, the emotion around the culture. That human side of things drew me in. Now I help lead the artistic direction of the magazine, and we try to make it a platform that goes beyond breaking, into the full spectrum of street culture and creative self-expression.

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE BREAKERS MAGAZINE TO SOMEONE PICKING IT UP FOR THE FIRST TIME?

TOM: It’s a physical object first. That’s always been central to the vision, something tactile, something to hold. From the beginning, I didn’t want to build a website or chase SEO. I wanted to make something beautiful, like the surf and skate mags I admired. That kind of print culture never really existed in breaking, so we made our own. It’s bilingual, built from scratch, and it’s grown issue by issue alongside the people who’ve joined the project.

SEBASTIÁN: And it’s not just about breaking, it never really was. We use breaking as a way in, but what we’re really interested in is the people: their stories, struggles, creativity, and how culture lives in the everyday. For me, Breakers is a platform for all kinds of street culture, not just dancers, but skaters, DJs, photographers, writers, even academics. It’s a home for stories that aren’t always told, but that carry a lot of weight.

WHAT WAS THE ORIGINAL MOTIVATION BEHIND STARTING A PRINT MAGAZINE IN A DIGITAL-FIRST WORLD?

TOM: Honestly, digital never even crossed my mind. I wanted something physical, something you could leave out on a table, something collectible. That feeling of print as an object, not just a container for content. It wasn’t about starting a media company or building a brand. It was more instinctive: I love breaking, I love talking to people, and I wanted to make something that could archive all that in a way that felt meaningful. And to be honest, I also wanted to teach myself how to do everything, from editing to layout to building a website. The magazine gave me a reason to learn.

SEBASTIÁN: For me, it was about getting back to that feeling of permanence. As a designer, I’ve always loved books, posters, printed matter. I’ll buy something even if I don’t speak the language, just because of how it looks and feels. And I think print helps us slow down, it lets you sit with something, come back to it. It becomes an archive, a reference. Each issue of Breakers is a snapshot of the culture at that moment, and I think there’s value in that beyond the instant pace of online content.

WHAT’S THE HISTORY OF BREAKING IN FRANCE, AND WHY DO YOU THINK IT RESONATES SO DEEPLY HERE?

TOM: France has a long relationship with hip-hop, but breaking’s position here is still pretty unique. One reason is that, unlike rap or DJing, breaking was never tied to a product. You can’t sell a dance move. It’s not like skateboarding, where there’s a whole industry built around selling boards and shoes. In breaking, you’ve got music, a floor, maybe some shoes but that’s it. So the culture grew live, in the moment. You had to be there. And I think in France, that suited something about our creative spirit, especially in cities like Paris, where street culture has always had a strong presence. There’s a history here of reclaiming public space, performing in the street, and building scenes without needing permission.

HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHAT MAKES IT INTO AN ISSUE OF BREAKERS?

SEBASTIÁN: From the beginning, we’ve tried to keep a strong editorial structure, things like the photo portfolio, the “Talks” section, interviews with people inside and outside of dance. Some articles focus on breaking history, others are more abstract. We’ve even included fiction. What matters most is the voice and the perspective. We’re not interested in sport-style breakdowns or fitness routines. We want to know how people use breaking or hip-hop more broadly, to navigate their lives.

TOM: Exactly. We’re more drawn to the stories behind the moves. Breaking teaches you emotional intelligence, how to collaborate, how to fail and keep going. It’s a hustle. And once someone’s learned to move through all that, you know there’s a lot they can say about their environment, about culture, about themselves. We’re open to anything that carries that kind of depth, whether it’s a dancer or a photographer or someone writing about film. What links them is mindset. That’s what Breakers is really built around.

WHAT WAS SPECIAL ABOUT THE ENERGY AT TRIBE TALES II, AND HOW DID IT EXCEED YOUR EXPECTATIONS?

TOM: Tribe Tales came out of a feeling that we needed to bring people into the Breakers world, not just as readers, but physically into a space. The magazine is about building something slowly, with trust, with emotional intelligence. And the event was the same. We created a concept based on how crews work together: how they make decisions, how they choose who battles who. It’s not just about the best dancer, it’s about communication, about understanding your crew and how to support each other. The name “Tribe Tales” reflects that. We wanted to celebrate collectives and the way they move together.

SEBASTIÁN: And it wasn’t just the format, it was the energy. The second edition completely blew us away. So many more people than we expected showed up. It was full of love, of community. What made it special was that it didn’t stay inside one bubble, we had one day inside a library, with cyphers and DJ sets, and another with a party and a battle in a totally different venue. That contrast helped draw in new crowds. It’s what we always try to do: keep things rooted in breaking and hip-hop but also open the doors to anyone who wants to connect with the vibe. People came as crews, as friends, as families. That’s the kind of unity we care about.

BREAKING IS SOMETHING THAT TYPICALLY HAPPENS IN THE STREET, SO IS WILDPOSTING A NATURAL FIT FOR YOU? WHAT EXCITES YOU ABOUT THIS FORMAT, AND WHAT DO YOU HOPE THE POSTERS WILL ACHIEVE?

SEBASTIÁN: The wildposting campaign is a way for us to show that Breakers is much bigger than just breaking. The posters going up around Paris right now are designed to communicate the spirit of what we do, bridging hip-hop with other street cultures, and opening the door to new collaborators. We want people who don’t know the magazine yet to see something that makes them curious, that draws them in. And for those who do know us, it’s about reaffirming what we stand for: independence, creativity, and cultural connection.

TOM: One of the things you’ll see in the posters are quotes pulled straight from the pages of Breakers, lines that capture the energy, values, and voices of the people we feature. Things like “Ego is a dance.” We kept the design raw and direct: just the quote, the speaker’s name, and our logo. Because for us, wildposting isn’t just a marketing tool, it’s a continuation of our approach since day one. DIY, street-level, self-funded. Like breaking itself, it’s about being present in public space and sharing something real. This is how we reach people by being visible, not just online, but on the walls of the cities we care about.

HOW WOULD YOU COMPARE THE CREATIVE SCENES OF PARIS AND MONTPELLIER, YOUR TWO HOME CITIES?

TOM: Paris is amazing if you’re organised and know exactly what you’re aiming for, it’s full of opportunities, but also full of noise. So many creatives, so much competition. For me, Montpellier made more sense. I’ve got family here, and I’m not trying to do this full-time for a living. It’s still a passion. And here, you can build more stable relationships, more community. People trust you quicker. I linked with venues super easily, they believed in Breakers right away. In Paris, it might’ve taken longer to get that trust.

SEBASTIÁN: That’s it. In Paris, before people even give you a chance, you need the social network, the right references, all that. In smaller cities, like Montpellier, it’s more, “Okay, let’s talk, let’s do something together.” There’s less gatekeeping. And the crowds are more mixed. You’ll get families, young people, older people, people who’ve never seen breaking before all at the same event. It feels more open.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVOURITE PLACE TO HEAR MUSIC? IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE IN PARIS…

TOM: Honestly? My car. These days, I spend so much time in it with my daughter that it’s where I listen to everything.

SEBASTIÁN: I’ve been enjoying smaller venues in Paris like New Morning, La Gare Jazz—places where you get live jazz jams with different line-ups every night. It’s raw and made for the moment. There’s also a good scene around Bastille with everything from rap to rock.

AND THE BEST PLACE TO DANCE?

TOM: My car, again… No, maybe a crowded room with tight cyphers, or a techno afterparty. Anywhere with energy bouncing off the walls.

SEBASTIÁN: I don’t break, but I love to dance, especially to Latin music. I’ll go wherever there’s movement, even if it’s a reggaeton night. But honestly, any place with a good vibe and a fast two-step works for me.

HOW CAN PEOPLE SUPPORT BREAKERS MAGAZINE?

TOM: The best way is just to reach out. Write to us, share your ideas, show us your work. We’re always open to building something interesting together, whether it’s editorial, design, photography, or events. It doesn’t have to be big or polished. We’re a collective at heart, and collaboration is what’s kept this whole thing alive.

SEBASTIÁN: Yeah, and it’s not really about money. Of course, funding would give us more time to dedicate to the project, but what we’re really looking for is connection. People who get what we’re doing and want to contribute creatively. Writers, designers, editors, cultural workers. If you see a way to build with us, let’s talk.

A voice for resilience and revolution.

Jasmine is a fearless artist whose music is as unflinching as it is tender. Emerging from Manchester’s DIY underground, she has carved out a sound that is both raw and meticulously honed – a balance fully realized in her debut album, ‘You Are The Morning’. A deeply personal manifesto of identity, love, and survival, the record pulses with spirit and the defiant energy of queer resilience. To celebrate its release, UNCLE partnered with Jasmine to amplify its message in Manchester and London through flyposting, ensuring its themes of visibility, solidarity, and defiance resonate far beyond the underground.

At its core, ‘You Are The Morning’ is a testament to resilience. The album brims with raw emotion, weaving together intimate songwriting and expansive production, bolstered by contributions from indie-rock luminaries like boygenius. But beyond the sonics, the record is a rallying cry – a declaration of presence in a world that often seeks to erase. It’s about survival, about finding and holding onto the people who make life worth living. It’s a love letter to the queer community, to trans joy, to the underground scenes that build something beautiful out of struggle. It’s not just music; it’s a movement.

In the interview that follows, we dive deep into the heart of the record. From the songwriting process to the weight of representation, from Manchester’s impact to the transformative power of live performance, nothing is off-limits. This is an artist who isn’t afraid to speak her truth – who, in fact, sees it as a responsibility.

‘You Are The Morning’ is such a personal and emotionally rich album. How does it feel now that it’s out in the world?

I feel honoured that it is out and reaching people in the way that it is. Queer people around the world are telling me it has resonated with them in a way they haven’t experienced before, and I’ve had older trans women tell me that they wish they had someone like me to look up to when they were transitioning, which means the world to me.

What message do you hope listeners take away from it?

The importance of solidarity. Queer friendship, mutual aid and international solidarity quite literally saved my life and got me to where I am today. And to those in need, a message of hope: things can and will get better. You will find your people.

You’ve spoken about your songwriting process starting with voice memos and stream-of-consciousness writing. How do you know when a song is “finished”?

I don’t think a song is ever finished. I don’t feel comfortable playing a song the same way twice, it feels gross to me. The songs on the album have already changed.

How Did The Presence Of Boygenius (Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers And Lucy Dacus) Shape The Sound And Energy Of The Record?

In so many ways. I think it sounds very boygenius in a lot of ways. Julien’s guitar tone, Lucy’s editing and sequencing skills, and Phoebe’s knowledge of the studio and leadership in arrangement were vital aspects. All of their voices really carry the record.

Many of your songs explore love and identity in a deeply personal way. Do you think music has helped you find and express your truest self?

Fully. In the words of Avril, I’m a rock chick. But seriously, expressing myself through music and writing has really helped me through my darkest times and helped me process and heal.

Diy magazine called you a “testament to the importance of trans representation”; do you feel a responsibility as an artist to represent trans voices in music?

Yeah, a massive responsibility. It’s an honour to step into the spotlight as some random Manchester doll and be a voice for trans liberation. The world is so cruel to trans people, especially trans children, trans people of colour, transfeminine people and disabled trans people. It’s honestly terrifying leaving the house in our most deadly year on record, let alone touring internationally as a group of trans women. Those in power stoke more and more hatred towards us as a distraction from the real evils of capitalism, and the consequence is that trans people are being killed in the street more than ever. We are losing our jobs more than ever. We are homeless more than ever. There have been so many direct attacks on trans people in legislation around the world already this year, including Wes Streeting’s ban on trans children accessing puberty blockers (non-trans children are still prescribed them freely). As a consequence, we have seen a huge spike in trans children killing themselves. Edinburgh women’s shelter has started denying trans women escaping abusive partners. Trans women are being raped and murdered in men’s prisons around the world, including here in the UK. These are the real trans issues that should be in the media. We are victims, but instead, we are painted as predators, aggressors and perpetrators. I want to do my bit to change the mainstream conversation.

You’ve been vocal about your work with trans mutual aid manchester. How do you see the intersection between your music and activism?

When your very existence is politicised, you don’t really get much of a choice!

How has Manchester shaped you as an artist?

Coming here I met my community and fell in love with trans people for the first time, which is what the record is about. So, entirely!

Favourite spots in the city?

The Peer Hat is a fave of mine — my website is based on that pub.

You’re embarking on a full UK tour this year. How are you feeling about taking ‘You Are The Morning’ on the road?

So excited to meet more of my community, mainly! I love playing live, I love my bandmates, and I love the impact that our shows have had. Trans people have told me they’ve found their chosen families at my shows, others have told me that seeing me has allowed them to accept their own trans identities, others have reached out to say that seeing us out here as a group of trans women has given them hope for their own futures. You can’t make an omelette without cracking some eggs!

The album title represents new beginnings. What’s next for you after this release and tour?

There are loads more shows and festivals to be announced. I’m so excited for this year. I’m also hoping to start being able to make a living from music and so have more time to spend with my incredible partners and my chosen family. And of course, I’m constantly writing — really hoping to share more music imminently!

How Bushwick’s Zodiac-Themed Bar Embodies New York Nightlife

Plenty of places throw parties, plenty more serve drinks. But the ones that matter – the ones that actually feel like they belong to a city – are something else entirely. Maybe it’s the music, or even the lack thereof. Maybe it’s the faces behind the bar, or the heads that turn towards the door when you walk in. Or maybe it’s something less tangible – a feeling that this place isn’t just a setting, but an active part of the experience itself.

Moodring – a ten-minute walk from the centre of the Bushwick universe, Myrtle Ave and Broadway – is one such place. Open since 2017, it’s carved out its own space in New York’s nightlife, balancing the intimacy of a neighbourhood bar with the energy of a club that feeds the underground.

The zodiac-themed cocktails are the initial hook. “Virgo seeks discounted drinks from August 22nd to September 23rd.” But astrology alone doesn’t keep people coming back. What does is a space that constantly shifts with the city – a venue shaped by the people who run it, rather than a corporate identity rubber-stamped across multiple locations.

That flexibility allows it to be reactive in ways larger venues can’t. Its recent Valentine’s event, for example, a staple in their calendar as the bar’s theme and recent wildposting campaign with UNCLE would suggest – raised funds for those affected by the LA fires. They don’t have to wait for approval from a boardroom to make things happen. They’re defined by the people who fill them, from the DJs on the decks to the regulars perched at the bar, and the connection they foster extends far beyond a transaction.
There’s also the bigger picture – the role that a venue like this plays in a city’s ecosystem. “If the only places to play are massive clubs with big fees and bigger expectations, you’re skipping a whole part of the process,” says co-founder Bowen Goh. Moodring, like other small venues, is where artists cut their teeth, where new sounds emerge, and where a DJ can experiment with an audience that’s open to the unexpected. Without places like this, the grassroots pipeline collapses.

And yet, in a city where rising rents and shifting trends force independent venues to fight for survival, Moodring keeps evolving. Like its ever-changing cocktail menu, the space adapts to the season, the moment, and the people who walk through its doors. Call it fate, call it intuition – whatever it is, it’s working.

Can you introduce yourself and Moodring?

Bowen Goh: I’m one of the founders of Moodring. We opened in 2017, and over the years, we’ve evolved into a bar and club that’s home to a lot of New York’s underground and up-and-coming artists. We started out with more of a house music focus, but as the scene has grown, so has our programming. We try to be a dynamic space—always shifting with what the city and its people want.

What was the original vision for the space, and how has it evolved?

We actually didn’t set out to open a club. The initial idea was a small restaurant, but my business partner was really involved in the underground techno scene. We took a trip to Berlin, and after a few nights out there, the idea of opening a club just felt right. Back home, there was a gap in Bushwick for something on the lighter side of the dance spectrum—not full-on heavy techno, but something with a bit more house music. We saw that opportunity and ran with it.

At first, we didn’t even plan to throw as many events as we do now, but the demand was immediate. We got a little press early on because of our astrology concept, and from there, things snowballed. The DJs came, the crowds followed, and we kept making improvements—better sound, a proper booth, more intentional bookings. Moodring just grew into itself.

Moodring has a strong astrology theme. What inspired that?

Astrology was just something that felt natural to us. Before we even opened, we saw how much people loved talking about it—especially in nightlife, where you’re constantly meeting new people. Asking someone their sign is an easy icebreaker, and we wanted the space to feel like that—somewhere you can strike up a conversation with a stranger without it feeling weird.

It also gave us a way to keep things fresh. We have a rotating cocktail menu based on the zodiac calendar, and over the years, we’ve constantly updated the space’s look and feel. We even put out an astrology-themed cocktail book, which was a fun way to extend the concept beyond the bar.

And how does the astrology theme influence the overall atmosphere at moodring?

The theme was never just a gimmick—it became part of the culture of the place. You’ll see people asking each other about their signs within minutes of meeting. It’s funny because, even if you don’t care about astrology, someone in the room will. It creates this shared language that people can tap into, whether they take it seriously or just use it as a fun way to connect.
Beyond the cocktails, we’ve always treated Moodring as a space that shifts and evolves—kind of like how people see astrology as being tied to cycles and change. We update the decor, switch things up seasonally, and try to keep the energy feeling fresh. I think that’s why people keep coming back—there’s always something a little different, even if it’s subtle.

Moodring has become a hub for djs and electronic music. What’s your approach to programming and curating events?

Bowen Goh: From the start, we wanted to offer something different from what was already out there. Right across the street, you’ve got Bossa Nova Civic Club, which has been a staple for heavier techno. So, when we were setting up Moodring, we leaned toward the other end of the spectrum—more house, something a little lighter, more groove-driven. At the time, there wasn’t much of that in Bushwick, and it just made sense to carve out that space.

Over time, we’ve expanded to include club music, Latin nights, and other genres that reflect what people in the city are gravitating toward. But we always keep the core of it intact—it’s about energy, movement, and making sure the space stays fresh.

Moodring feels like an incubator for up-and-coming artists. Do you see it as a stepping stone for djs on their way to bigger venues?

Yeah, that’s something that’s just naturally happened. We’re a small venue, so we’ve always attracted underground talent—DJs who are on the come-up, trying things out, and building their following. Some of the artists who’ve played here have gone on to much bigger stages, but a space like ours is where they get that first real connection to a crowd.

I think a lot of people don’t realize how important that is. If the only places to play are massive clubs with big fees and bigger expectations, you’re skipping a whole part of the process. Small venues like Moodring are where DJs test out new sounds, build a vibe, and figure out who their audience is. We’ve had plenty of nights where you just know someone’s about to blow up. It’s a good feeling, seeing that progression and knowing we’re part of that pipeline.

How do you balance keeping things fresh while staying true to the space’s original vision?

We try to keep our ear to the ground. As much as we have our own tastes, it’s about what people in the scene are excited about. Some of the best nights we’ve had have come from just trusting the right people—whether that’s resident DJs who understand the crowd or collectives that bring something new to the space.

At the same time, we don’t want to overextend. We built this space with a clear vibe in mind, and while we’ve branched out, we always come back to the idea that Moodring is meant to be intimate, energetic, and a bit different from everywhere else. That’s what’s kept us going all these years.

Nightlife and club culture are in constant flux. From your perspective, what’s the biggest challenge for independent venues in nyc right now?

Bowen Goh: The biggest challenge is survival, honestly. Everything keeps getting more expensive—rent, insurance, staff wages, liquor, even just the cost of running a sound system. But that doesn’t necessarily mean more money is coming in. People are going out less often, and when they do, they’re more selective about where they spend their money.

A lot of that comes down to how nightlife changed after COVID. Right after the lockdowns, there was this explosion—people were out constantly, drinking, partying. But then came the backlash, where people started cutting back, drinking less, and being more mindful of how they spend their nights out.

Bushwick has undergone major changes over the years. How have you seen gentrification impact the neighborhood and the nightlife scene?

It’s changed a lot, even just in the time we’ve been here. A lot of people moved here because rent was cheap, and that led to an explosion of bars, clubs, and creative spaces opening up.
Now, it’s shifting again. Rents have gone up, more luxury apartments are being built, and that always changes the kind of people moving in. A lot of the older spots have closed, and you see nightlife becoming more polished—more corporate, in some cases. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to have new places opening, but when independent venues start disappearing, it affects the whole culture.

What’s your favorite thing about New York?

It’s a cliché, but the energy here is unmatched. Everyone’s here to make something happen—whether that’s in music, art, food, whatever. You can feel it when you’re out. People don’t just go through the motions; they’re putting real intent behind what they do. That keeps things exciting, even when the city itself can be exhausting.

What’s one standout night at moodring that has stuck with you?

One that really stands out was right before the COVID lockdowns. We were doing a party with musclecars for their two-year anniversary, and you could just feel it in the air—everyone was in the moment, dancing, balloons flying everywhere, no one worrying about anything outside that room.

At the time, we had no idea things were about to shut down, but looking back, that night feels like a perfect snapshot of what we love about Moodring. It’s those moments where you look around and realize you’ve built something that brings people joy. That’s what makes it worth all the stress of running a venue in this city.

Event photo credits David Brandon Geeting & Lina Sun Park.

Style, Storytelling, and the Power of Representation.

Style isn’t just about clothes – it’s about presence, attitude, and the stories woven into every fabric choice, accessory, and perfectly curated look. To My Titas is a bold, fashion-forward tribute to the Filipino aunties who have been serving effortless elegance long before social media made it a trend. In partnership with UNCLE, this photobook isn’t just a celebration of their impeccable style – it’s a love letter to the culture, resilience, and quiet power of a generation of women who’ve always understood the art of showing up and showing out.

But this project goes deeper than just aesthetics. To My Titas merges editorial fashion photography with raw, personal storytelling, highlighting the lives these women have built far from home while carrying their heritage with them in every detail. From church hall gatherings to house parties fuelled by karaoke, the book captures the energy, tradition, and community that shape Filipino identity in the diaspora. It’s an intimate yet strikingly stylish look at how fashion and culture intertwine, proving that heritage is never out of style.

In this interview, we sit down with the creative force behind To My Titas Nicole Alonzo, to talk about the vision, the process, and the beautiful chaos of working with a group of legendary, Facebook-loving aunties. From deep cultural connections to high-fashion influences, this conversation is about more than just a book – it’s about the power of representation and why these stories need to be seen. Let’s get into it.

What inspired you to create to my titas? Was there a particular moment or experience that sparked the idea?

I remember having a conversation with my girlies, who come from different ethnic backgrounds to me, and we got to talking about how fashionable and stylish our aunties are. Down from the jewellery, to the designer bags, the extravagant cultural attire they like to wear to church, or how well they hold themselves when wearing their sunday’s best. I chose to do a photobook because i go to photobook stores to get inspired or feel some type of relatability through visual storytelling and realised there were no photobooks about my filipino heritage. I felt a need to put my country on the map.

Tell us about some themes in the book. How did you decide on the visual and narrative elements to achieve this?

I have a love for fashion imagery and clothing since i was a young kid. I currently study a fashion communication course at ual and i know that visual storytelling through fashion editorial style is how i best express myself. However, besides the fashion imagery and clothing aspect of my photobook, i understood the importance of interviewing these amazing women and collecting cultural artifacts that they brought to the motherland, to represent their stories properly. I really wanted to celebrate their lives that they’ve made in england and their relationships with each other. These themes include our love for karaoke. Every time i go to a filipino house party, there’s karaoke.

What was the process like for selecting the titas featured in the book? Did you face any challenges in capturing their stories?

In terms of process, i grew up in a strong filipino community in nottingham. My father is the chairman of the nottingham filipino community and so the titas in my photobook are women who have seen me grow into a woman. In my culture, you call everyone auntie or “tita” even if they aren’t by blood, but by culture and community, they are. The biggest challenge for me was getting all my aunties in one place lmao, they’re very busy women. I had to do a lot of facebook messaging and physically going to their houses to interview them. I am currently based in london, so i had to go back and forth to where i am originally from, which is nottingham, just to talk to my titas. They love their facebook.

How do you hope to my titas will impact perceptions of filipino womanhood?

I hope it will help people realise that no matter what culture or community you’re from, we’re all the same. We all have at least one auntie who is always dressed to impress. I also just wanted to celebrate my culture by looking at traditional perspectives and contemporary perspectives that a young filipino person would be able to look at and feel seen. I guess i just want people to know how proud and strong our women are.

Can you share any standout stories or moments from working on this project that resonated with you in particular?

For me, my most standout moments were being in a shoot with all my aunties. They bring such vibrant energies and this sense of ‘diva’-ness to a room that i just adore.

How has your own background influenced your creative practice?

My own background has influenced nearly everything i do in my creative practice. I think i was so excited to get out into the world and step into the fashion industry and then quickly realised that most high-end fashion spaces made me feel like i wasn’t allowed there unless i was known. Of course, this is slowly changing but the exclusion is definitely still there. Due to this, it forced me to look within and really understand what niche communities speak out to me and accept me as a creative. In turn, this project is a rebellious act to the fashion industry. One, mature women and people deserve to be in the fashion limelight as much as young people because they love fashion too, and two, my culture is equally as fashionable and elegant through our clothing.

If you could describe to my titas in three words, what would they be?

Strength, adaption, and style.

If younger filipino artists want to explore their heritage through storytelling, what advice would you give them?

Look at the people around you, create work with the communities you already have. There is so much beauty in it that you may not notice because it isn’t on a campaign ad. Obviously, dream big but don’t forget your roots or who you are along the way. Bring those attributes with you to the industry; it will set you apart from the others.

Talk us through the artwork of the campaign?

One of the artworks for the campaign is the front cover of my photobook, which showcases all my aunties in one photo wearing their best-dressed clothing, all in different colours and designs that best describe their individual personalities. I wanted the location to scream britain, but the poses, style, designer bags, and jewellery to scream fashion! My auntie on the left took her shoes off mid-shoot because they annoyed her and decided to take a photo because she can, on her facebook, and i knew that capturing that moment would best describe these women and our culture from a contemporary perspective. The rest of the artworks were taken in my local church while wearing our cultural attire to showcase our local church hall in nottingham. A lot of events hosted by the nottingham filipino community have happened in that church hall, so it’s a very sentimental space for my aunties and me. Our cultural attire is equally as sentimental to us as filipinos away from home, so i knew to capture both of these important elements together to best describe our culture to london.

How has london informed the project?

London is a very multicultural city, filled with such beautiful heritages living together in one place. Living here forced me to look at my heritage and how my community has shaped me as a creative growing up in the midlands.

What parts of the city inspire you?

I currently live in whitechapel, and the bengali community there is strong. However, even though we have cultural differences, the themes of family, community, and styling (down to their traditional clothing shops, which i always adore every time i walk past them) are all the same. In such a big city, a niche community is what makes you feel connected, and it made me think of mine back at home in nottingham.

What’s next for you as an artist? Any upcoming projects we should look forward to?

As an artist, i am currently working on my next project, which is creating a physical exhibition curated by bame women who live in the midlands, who love fashion and also take inspiration from their cultural heritage. I am planning to have this exhibited in nottingham because nothing creative happens there. Not because there isn’t creative talent, but because there’s no funding that goes to those regions as they’re all being pumped into london. Therefore, i am planning to create this exhibition to showcase the amazing bame women creatives in nottingham.

“Art is our chance to turn intangible things into tangibles.”

What does it take to release 10 albums of music?

It’s not a question we put to MIKE directly, but his latest studio album, Showbiz!, serves as its own answer. Still only in his mid-twenties, the Brooklyn-based artist has lived a lot of life, and his commitment to the belief that music should be a lived experience is a testament to that.

`“It’s like, are you making art, or is art just a part of your life?” he asks. “I think for me, it’s always the second one.”`

Michael Bonema arrived in New York as a teenager. Having been born in nearby New Jersey, he has also spent time in Philadelphia and in London as a child. MIKE’s previously acknowledged that the now-nostalgic staple, Channel U – the British TV channel that platformed a generation of underground rap and grime artists – influenced his wide taste in music, as well as the 2000s R&B his sisters played in their home.

The rap music he makes – particularly when self-produced – has a tendency to pack two or even three different beats into one, sometimes flipping the same sample in two different ways. Something for the subway and something for a dj blackpower set (his producer alias), all within one track. ‘If I’m making a track and I feel like flipping the beat three times, I just go with it. It’s never a forced thing – it’s more about feeling,’ he says, speaking to us candidly from his home, the day after a studio session that went into the early hours of a Tuesday morning. ‘Hip-hop is already a freeform sport – you don’t have to follow rules if you don’t want to, and that’s what always excited me.

His music is shaped as much by the people and places around him as it is by his own creative impulses. Whether it’s his independent label 10k, which has grown from a close-knit collective into a globally recognised platform, or Young World, the free-to-attend New York festival that now belongs as much to the city as it does to him, MIKE’s vision has always extended beyond just making records and releasing them.

His partnership with UNCLE does more than promote this landmark tenth album. It brings 22 collages – one for each song on Showbiz! – onto the streets of New York. These pieces, designed in collaboration with a longtime friend, aren’t just promo, but an extension of the album itself – just as personal and vulnerable as the music. “The collages reflect each song and are very personal to me,” MIKE says. “I feel like the vulnerable nature of my music is something people appreciate, and this is an extension of that.”

This philosophy extends to his touring, too. His upcoming 71-date world tour is more than just his biggest yet – it’s a travelling community effort, bringing at least 24 other artists on stage across various dates, including duendita, Navy Blue, Liv.e, and Maxo, as well as label mates like Anysia Kym, Sideshow, and Jadasea. On stage, MIKE has always created space for younger artists, introducing them to like-minded crowds, while also sharing bills – and a song – with artists like Sister Nancy, the dancehall pioneer, adding an intergenerational essence to his approach.

“Everything we’re doing now is part of something bigger that’s been happening for decades,” he says. “Sister Nancy wasn’t supposed to be who she is – there were barriers, systems that weren’t built for her to thrive in. But she broke through anyway.”

“That’s how the lineage keeps going. If you’re truly part of something bigger, you can’t be scared of new people coming up. You want new contenders, because that means the culture is alive. The real ones always stick around.”

Whilst there’s no single answer to what it takes to release ten albums of music, it seems to be an amalgamation of all the above. And the below…

How long have you lived in New York for now?

The end of ninth grade. I graduated in 2016, and I was in New York from the beginning of tenth grade. So, 2013 – twelve years now.

Do you think moving to New York from elsewhere gives you a different perspective on things?

Definitely, but not in a way where I ever felt too much like an outsider. Nigerians, specifically, have four, five, maybe six home bases where you know you’re going to find a lot of Nigerians. I was moving around my whole life, so coming to New York wasn’t too big of a shift for me – I could already understand what was going on.

I had cousins in the city, and I used to visit them every summer. They were putting me on to what was happening – whether it was the first people to show me Pop Smoke before he was making music, or putting me on to different styles, the way people dressed. I’d be in the Bronx rocking hella Polo because that’s what I was seeing.

When I finally moved there, I was living with those same cousins, so it already felt normal. And I think moving around so much helped me figure out how to exist in different communities. Maybe not for the best reasons, but it gave me a broader understanding of how to find my people. So when I got to New York, it was easy to find my tribe.

Your music always embraces that tribe, and your albums have always embraced featured artists and collaboration. So does this latest, your 10th mike album, feel like as much of a community effort as it does a ‘Solo’ album?

Yeah, I think every project is always a community effort. Even if it’s just me writing or working on something alone, the experiences that shape the music come from the people around me.

I’ve been working on Showbiz! since the end of 2023 and just thinking about how much life has happened in that time – it had to be a collaborative thing. There are people who’ve saved my life in different ways, and I have to credit that. It could be a homie who looked out for me, or just the small moments that shift your perspective. Everything plays a role in the music.

It’s like, are you making art, or is art just a part of your life? I think for me, it’s always the second one. The music reflects what’s happening around me, so it’s always tied to the people, places, and energy that surround it. That’s why every album – this one included – feels like more than just me.

And where does Showbiz!, The name of this project come from?

I think Showbiz! started as an idea while I was on tour. We’ve been touring non-stop for the last three years, and I’ve been making music seriously since 2017. At a certain point, it just felt like my whole life had become this—like I had fully stepped into what it means to be an artist.

For me, Showbiz! is about coming of age, not just as an artist but as a person. In four years, I’m gonna be 30, which is crazy to me because I feel like I’ve already lived so much life, but at the same time, I haven’t done shit yet. That’s what this album feels like—coming into myself, realising that this is what I do, and fully accepting it.

I was talking to my homie the other day about how parents always say, ‘Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.’ And we were like – why not? We put all our eggs in one basket because this is the only basket we got. But that doesn’t mean the basket has to be small. It can be as big as we make it. That’s what Showbiz! Is – realising that I’m in this, all the way, and there’s no backup plan.

The album’s once again released on your own label 10K. From the outside looking in, at times 10K has felt like a platform for yourself and friends to release music via. Now it feels like it’s kept that ethos, but evolved and expanded – sonically and geographically – to be a record label that can compete with other indie labels. What’s the vision for 10K?

We don’t necessarily see it as a label—maybe more like a crime organisation. [laughs] But nah, for real, from the start, we always looked at it like a mom-and-pop shop. The idea was to do everything in-house, to build something where we didn’t have to rely on the same industry systems that a lot of people feel trapped in.

A lot of it comes down to figuring out what makes us different. How do we stand next to these other labels that have the resources to do all the crazy industry shit? And I think we found that answer by just staying true to the people around us. We’ve got homies who run venues, people who handle different aspects of music and events, and a network that isn’t just about one scene or one city.

So, the vision is really just to keep building on that – to create a space where artists can drop their art comfortably and do what they need to do without all the extra bullshit. If you prioritise the art and the artist, things can be okay. And I’m grateful to be part of something that pushes that forward.

You’re about to embark on a 71-date tour – your biggest yet. How important is touring for you as an independent artist, and what role does it play in sustaining your career?

Touring is super important. Besides just performing, we’ve been hitting some of these cities for three, four years now, so it’s deeper than just a show – it’s about the people we’ve met along the way. Every time we go somewhere new, it feels like the family gets bigger.

I have this theory that one day all the good people in the world are gonna link up – whether it’s in one big-ass Instagram chat or something, I don’t know. But every time I’m on tour, it feels like that’s already happening in real life. You go somewhere you’ve never been before and realise there are people out there who relate to you, who feel the same way about things. It reminds you that this music, this whole journey, is bigger than just me.

And in terms of sustaining what I do, it’s everything. Touring is how I connect with people, how I keep growing, how I survive as an artist. Performing is one of my favourite things to do – it feels spiritual, like church or something. It’s where I feel the most like myself. On stage, you’re supposed to be the master of the ceremony, creating your own world, and I love that shit every time.

What’s special about new york as a place to come home to after all that touring?

Man, good weather, good gas, good food—that’s what I’m coming back to. We’re about to be in some weird places, so when I get back, it’s just turn-up time. But honestly, even when the world tour stops, we just hit the city and keep it going. That’s how it always is. We go around the world in the first quarter, then do everything we just did overseas back at home for the summer.
New York is special because it’s home, but it’s also not a place where you sit still. There’s always something happening, always somewhere to be. After being on the road, it’s not like I come back and just stop – it’s more like a shift in energy. The movement doesn’t stop, it just comes back to where it started.

And new york in the summer is also the location of young world, the free-to-attend festival that you’ve been organising for four years now. What inspired you to start that festival, and what’s been the most rewarding part of building it?

It actually started as a completely different idea. I wanted to do a series of shows in different warehouses, where all the stages would be set up in the middle and the crowd would circle around. That was the dream at first but figuring out how to actually make it happen led me to what Young World is now.

From the beginning, I wanted it to feel like more than just another show. I wanted it to be something that really brought people together, that felt like it belonged to the city. And over the years, I’ve seen it do exactly that—it’s a space where different generations of artists and fans all come together through hip-hop. Seeing that in real time, seeing how much it means to people, that’s the most rewarding part.

What makes new york the perfect place for a festival like this?

New York is built for something like this. It’s already a place where different generations, different cultures, and different sounds are always crossing paths. That’s what Young World is about – bringing all those worlds together in one space.

Even from the first one, when we had the deal with the art centre in the Lower East Side, it just made sense. The people involved, the energy of it, the way it brought everyone together – it all felt like a natural extension of what’s already happening in the city. When we moved it to the park in Brooklyn, it became even bigger. That was the moment where I really saw how much it meant to the community.

Now there are people who don’t even know me for my music but know me for putting on Young World. I was walking in my neighbourhood, and someone called me “the guy who does the park thing.” Didn’t even call it Young World – just “the park thing.” That’s crazy to me. Or I’ll be in the gym, and one of the security guards who’s been there for years didn’t recognise me at first, then he’s like, “Oh, you’re the guy from Young World?” That’s wild because that means it’s reaching people beyond just the ones who listen to my music.

That’s what makes New York the right place for this. It’s not just my thing anymore. It’s something that belongs to the city now.

You’ve been working with a designer to create collages for each song on the new album – these will be seen across new york as part of your collab with uncle. What do these visuals add to the experience of the album?

The visuals are just as important as the music. They tell the story in a way that sometimes the music alone can’t. Every project starts with a loose idea – something that visually sticks with me – and I let it build from there. With Showbiz!, I was thinking a lot about performance, about stepping into a role, and about how real life feeds into that. For example, I say a prayer to my mother before every show – praying that she can see it and that people enjoy it – and so I’ve been able to incorporate that tradition into this album and into the visuals ‘You’re the Only One Watching’.

The collages reflect each song and are very personal to me. I feel like the vulnerable nature of my music is something people appreciate, and this is an extension of that. It’s not just about promotion – it’s about being able to present the art in a different way, separate from the music. Art is our chance to turn intangible things into tangibles, and that’s what these visuals do. They make the emotions and ideas behind each track something you can actually see and experience in the real world.

How do you feel about bridging that gap between the digital and the real world?

It’s exciting because there’s no algorithm in real life. Anyone can walk past it, interact with it, and be introduced to something they weren’t looking for. That’s the part I love – the randomness of it.

It reminds me of how I’ve been put onto things in life. Someone shows you something, takes you somewhere, and suddenly your whole perspective shifts. That’s what I hope can happen with this – people coming across the art in their day-to-day and maybe discovering something that sticks with them.

On the topic of connecting with audiences, how has your relationship with social media evolved, particularly as an independent artist? It wasn’t too long ago that you turned your instagram off private…

Man, I’m about to go back on private. [laughs] Social media sucks, bro. But at the same time, it’s powerful. And anything that’s powerful – if it can be used for good, it’ll also be used against us. Every social media platform now just feels right-wing.

I do be a scroller, though. I rap, and I scroll. That’s really my shit. [laughs] And when you sit back and really look at it, it’s like a hamster wheel. My homies who have kids tell me about Cocomelon – how it’s just playing with their dopamine, messing with their brains. And I’m like… bro, we’re all on Cocomelon too. Social media does the same thing to us, just dressed up differently.

That’s why I try to remind myself – and other artists – that we still have free will in this. You can step away, you can use it how you need to without letting it run you.

Whether they interact with it on the streets or via the music in headphones or at a show, what do you hope people take away from the new album?

I just hope the music gives people a space to feel themselves. I want the shows to be a safe space – somewhere people can listen and maybe connect with feelings they’ve had but didn’t know how to put into words or be able to portray.

Even outside the music, with the collages or seeing it in the street, I just want people to experience something that sticks with them. Maybe it inspires them to look at their own life in a new way, or to reflect on where they are and where they’re going. That’s really all I could hope for.