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Björk, what does it mean to be brave with music?

I think you know when you’re playing it safe, when you’re stagnating, and when you’re growing. It’s probably an ongoing thing for all of us — and a tricky balance. Obviously it’s important to not overreach or you risk bypassing fertile moments, but I do try to learn at least one thing on every album, to reach out in terms of software or growing in my arrangements, or I probably tend to write harder and harder melodies for me to sing. I become my own teacher.

Is that the same as what it means to be brave in general?

I think that’s more of a gut feeling. And then to be too foolhardy can obviously be your downfall. I’ve definitely been guilty of that many times… But it’s worth it. I discovered early on that I’m the kind of person that experiments and makes mistakes but then it’s all worth it because once in a blue moon it hits home. So, in that way, I think being brave also leaves you vulnerable.

“I’ve felt how important it is for young girls that I speak up, that I don’t pretend that it’s easy.”

People tend to forget that vulnerability exists when it comes to celebrities for some reason — is it still scary for you to speak up on issues that you’re passionate about?

To be honest, I find it kind of exhausting… But I also feel that if I crave improvement in, for example, equality between the sexes then I need to make an effort there as well. With my generation, it was important in the nineties for women to go out and do things and stop complaining — but that was only because my mom’s generation had done a lot of work before and I was enjoying the fruits of that.

Your mother was an activist as well, right?

My father too! He was a union leader here in Iceland for decades and is now part of a radical group that is writing a new constitution for Iceland. I think for a long time I probably countered that, I felt it was too obvious. But then in the last 20 years or so, I have made sure I spend a big portion of my time protecting the nature in Iceland. I think any time society goes through transformation there are talks about end of the world, like when London was black with coal, no one could imagine a future without it. When they discovered the sewer system in Paris, it was the same. So we have to imagine a future where we clean the oceans, or go fully solar or wind-powered… If millions can swap from iPhone 6 to 7 in the space of weeks — then we can do it.

What made you realize your own responsibility in that movement?

I think it is an interesting feeling when you get older and you realize there is no “they,” there’s no government or elders, there’s no one you can point at and blame. You’ve actually got to become that person and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. I don’t think it is a coincidence that people my age often get verbal about social responsibilities. For the past 10 years now, I’ve also felt how important it is for young girls that I speak up, that I don’t pretend that it’s easy. And I understand that. Even though what I’m saying now might give me some shit… I am preparing the soil for my daughter.

So it’s important for you to speak up in literal ways rather than solely through your music?

That’s a very good question, and I could answer it in seven different ways… I could easily say that it is not important! Another answer could be that as a live performer I understand and appreciate the power of dynamics and surprise.

What do you mean?

If you always express yourself in the same way all your life it might lose some of its potential or dynamite. I have always enjoyed singing quietly and then loudly, I enjoy that technicolor feeling that it gives me. I like cornucopia in films, music, food, sex, everything… So maybe feminism should sometimes be hidden, like “the pleasure is all mine,” the generous self-sacrificial quality of mothers… But then all of a sudden I write a blunt #MeToo on Facebook just to counter it, to give it some polarity? Like a romantic choir song and then a punk tune straight after.

Do you ever worry about not being heard in those instances?

Overall as a musician, I feel heard. And as one, I enjoy being understood and not understood. And I’m willing to live with that. I guess the nature of the music I am making is not necessarily absolute totalitarian inclusion. On the other hand, I definitely sensed when I expressed myself about harassment in the #MeToo project that I was instantly ridiculed — especially when I first brought it up 17 years ago. Women are conditioned to feel that they are unworthy of being taken seriously. Finally, there is a dramatic change in the air now!

“Bravery is this gut feeling to not coagulate or crystalize but to stay liquid.”

You once said, “If whatever I’m saying helps women, I’m up for saying it.” Is that something you still believe in?

I think there is a time and a place because there is a different momentum now. I feel the next task is going to be men and how we are going to create space for them to express their feelings. They have been getting very complex messages: that they can’t be emotional and then all of a sudden grilled for not being so. We women have defined a language for decades now to express ourselves, and the men are very behind in that respect.

Do you think its up to artists to champion those kinds of movements?

I don’t believe in hierarchies — I think we are going to do it all together. This is the time of globalism, the 21st Century doesn’t need leaders. I think everyone has to follow their own mission. Some are more poetic, some more direct. Diversity is everything. Personal politics are complex and never simplistic, and just expressing oneself alone can be a major act of rebellion, a radical force even though it doesn’t include any spelled out politics. Like I said before, bravery is this gut feeling to not coagulate or crystalize but to stay liquid.

How do you stay liquid when it comes to your music?

Well, for example, I did a little falsetto experiment on Utopia; more songs than usual are now sung like that, which is kind of hilarious! It was almost like a continuity of “Cocoon,” an old song of mine, where I was trying as a singer to get underneath the skin and break the barrier between the singer and the listener. I discovered that the sonic contrast on this album, the point where the fantasy and the real meet is extreme. I guess that’s what the title Utopia is about. I like that the word has luggage. It is about your fantasy but also about how you mix reality into it, and how you do that is really descriptive of what kind of person you are. I’m curious about the gap between the two.

You seem constantly moved by these dichotomies — fantasy and reality, light and dark… On Vulnicura, you sang, “When I’m broken I am whole, and when I’m whole I’m broken.”

I guess that was some sort of sense of humor about myself, I’m probably self-deprecating more often than people think. Sometimes I think it’s overrated when people are going through happy periods in their lives how “whole” they say are. I think sometimes when people are going through their roughest patches they are actually kind of “whole,” it’s sort of topsy-turvy…

Do you hope that your music helps people through those experiences?

I cannot really aim for that. I know that all music has that potential, but it is important that the musician just lets the music be written. It just has to be what it is. It cannot be too planned ahead; sometimes it’s only afterwards that it becomes clear what it is. But before or during the writing process… It’s a mystery.

Source: The Talk

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Mr. McGregor, how would you describe your unique style of choreography?

I see beauty in things that are dysfunctional rather than just pure line and shape. The aspiration of classical ballet has often been about a kind of grace and effortlessness and lyricism in the body, an instrument that’s in fantastic motion. I think that’s really beautiful and really interesting, but I also think there’s a whole other range of physical potential that a human body can do. So, I’m interested in that side of it. I’m interested in bodies misbehaving.

Where do you think that comes from?

I’ve always had a very long body, so I’ve been able to do things differently. I was doing body-popping and a lot of club stuff when I was around 18, when rave culture came around. That kind of permeates the way in which you see people move. I’ve not been in a classical ballet school — where you’ve seen bodies move in a particular way — since the age of eight.

“Everybody carries their own physical history, so it doesn’t matter if you’ve trained in hip-hop or body-popping or classical ballet. It’s all the same, really.”

You never had any traditional ballet training?

No! And that’s why it was so strange that I would get these really amazing jobs at places like The Royal Ballet, where I was the first resident choreographer who had never trained in a royal ballet. But I don’t think any of that matters. Being a choreographer is about the biomechanics and signature of the body. Everybody carries their own physical history, so it doesn’t matter if you’ve trained in hip-hop or body-popping or classical ballet. It’s all the same, really.

Did you go back to school to gain the technical knowledge necessary to talk to professional dancers?

Kind of. I did a degree in choreography and semiotics, as well as contemporary dance training, but I got my practice in ballet through actually doing it, right? So the first time you ever work with somebody on pointe shoes, you ask them, “What can you do?” I had no idea what you can do! But less important than knowing how the pointe shoe works is to have good dancers in the room who, when you say, “Can you do that?” they can go, “Oh no, but I can do this.”

Your approach to teaching choreography seems to rely more on collaboration than authority.

It’s a dialogue. I try to work with the best people possible and suck out their brilliance as much as possible. The job of a choreographer is to find what’s personal to them. When I worked with Thom Yorke, for example, I found out that he’s an amazing dancer. Full stop. He doesn’t really need a choreographer.

So you based the choreography around his natural movement?

Right and I think it should be like that for everyone! The “Lotus Flower” video is choreographed but it comes from him, so he feels he owns it already. He’s giving it to me, and I’m just helping him form it in a different way. When you’ve got somebody so extraordinary, it’s exciting for a choreographer; it’s effortless. Sometimes technique gets in the way of letting dancers be curious and open and try new things. Their idea of physical beauty gets in the way of them exploring. For me, there’s no point in being an artist now and just repeating things that happened in the past.

Source: The Talk

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Mr. Scheeren, what experiences would you say changed your understanding of the world?

I think when you grow up in Europe, almost no matter where, you have a very sheltered idea of how things are. So going backpacking through China 25 years ago really confronted me with a reality that was unimaginable. Simply the amount of people around you, a completely different definition of personal space, of how things would work, of how people live… The main reason to go was that I knew nothing about the world, and China seemed the most impenetrable. Somehow that trip was a discovery of a reality that I had no idea about before. It was quite a transformative moment for me because it liberated me.

Liberated you from what?

It showed me that things could be dramatically different but maybe equally valid or equally interesting. For instance, I think that the power in China was not in holding on to its past in the way that other developed nations do, it was in the complete focus on the future. There was very little sentimental baggage. It was simply a search for how to progress. That experience was very raw, you could feel this incredible energy somehow in that country. People were hungry for things to happen, people were interested in what the future could be.

“That strong sense of courageousness was a very exciting context for an architect to engage with.”

Ma Yansong says architects should involve the public more when envisioning the future of urban planning.

Well, that strong sense of courageousness, that strong sense of demand, or exploration, was a very exciting context for an architect to engage with. It wasn’t just about how could we stick to what we already know but how can we rethink things for which there are no particular models. For example, in China, someone came to us and said, “We want to build a bookshop that is 100,000 square-meters large.” And you go, “What do you mean? Not even a public library is that size!” But then you visit an existing bookstore in Seoul that is half that size and it’s completely full of people. You see that energy and that density and you think, “Of course you can double it!” But at first it sounds like a completely implausible idea.

But bigger doesn’t always mean better…

True. What is important is to not simply succumb to the generic production of quantity and built mass, but to really ask how could we develop models out of this inevitable density, that are much more valuable towards us as human beings — towards a question of how we want to live, what is the quality of our life, and how do we want to exist in a city that grows extensively. I think we’ve been quite successful in finding clients that were ultimately willing to engage in these dialogues to see how we can break the mold, how we can, in a very literal way, open the skyscraper up to the life of people.

Like with your Interlace apartment complex in Singapore?

Exactly, the Interlace was a redefinition of a building as something that was no longer just an object, but a connective tissue that would form a huge community. The way the building blocks are stacked up forms huge gardens and courtyards, so it was about defining the space to live in that would allow you an incredible degree of freedom to decide for yourself. I think that’s what ultimately makes for an incredible quality of life in that place. Another example is the Sky Forest project in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. For that, we imagined the nature that you could soak up in the middle of a very dense, emerging part of the city.

Have you ever been surprised by how people inhabited your buildings?

In a way, that’s the best thing that can happen, when people are inspired enough to make their own story out of it. It’s not that they have to live your story — I think that would be a rather oppressive scenario. Architecture should never be too prescriptive in terms of telling you what to do. I think it’s actually brilliant when people find ways to reinterpret the spaces we create. For example, by complete coincidence, I found on the Internet a girl living at the Interlace who had posted a series of “My Life at the Interlace” videos, where she rollerblades throughout the complex — that was really a great moment. We couldn’t have scripted anything as good as that.

Source: The Talk

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Mr. Oyelowo, how do you approach playing a historical character?

It’s a very tricky thing because of course you have to be evocative of who they were, how they moved, how they spoke. You have to make people relax and say, “Okay, he feels like him enough that I can just go on this journey with this character.” But if it becomes an imitation, if it’s about mimicry, if all people were saying is, “Oh, yeah, he really got the voice,” you’re dead! That’s the worst compliment you can pay.

Really, why?

Because when you go to see a movie, there is a spiritual exchange between the audience and what you’re watching. There is something metaphysical going on, where through the eyes, through what that person is exuding, you go, “I understand who they are. I have a sense of what they’re feeling when they’re not even talking.” There is an embodiment that is total so that you forget all of that. People shouldn’t be looking at the mechanics of what you did.

What should they be looking at?

How you did it emotionally. I believe that we go to the movies to see ourselves. “How would I react?” If all you’re seeing is a superhuman human being who had answers for everything, then you’re just watching in awe and it’s just like, “Okay, wow, he’s him and I’m me.” So I think it’s important that we can see ourselves on screen and I think that also means that we’re looking for the greatness in ourselves.

Is it important for your work to inspire people to be better?

It is important to me! I want to do films that hopefully inspire people to be the best version of themselves. If you look at the films I do, all of them, in some way… the remit I set myself is, “How does this enrich people’s lives?” You know, what’s meaningful? I want films that, when my kids see them, they understand why daddy did those films. They understand how it correlates with the way I’m trying to raise them.

Did you gain that perspective when you became a father?

Being a father teaches you very quickly that you are not the center of your own universe. That’s one of the gifts of having to wipe poop! (Laughs) Other people’s poop… Four times, with four children! I’ll be on a plane tomorrow back to my kids, lock my door, and it’ll all be about poop again! (Laughs) That’s the life I lead.

I’m sure that makes it easier to focus on the important things in life.

The fact of the matter is that every actor’s career has highs and lows. When success as an actor comes early, it’s very easy to believe the hype. But to me, it’s about how consistently you do the work – whether it’s celebrated or it’s not. I’ve been in movies with huge movie stars who have been crucified when there are failures and who have been adulated when there are successes.

In the last few years you’ve been in The HelpLincolnThe Butler, and most recently you portrayed Martin Luther King, Jr. in Selma. Why is it so important for you to make films about African-American history?

We need those films. Up until recently, films that deal with civil rights and racial unrest have mostly been told through white characters, through white protagonists. Malcolm X is probably the only film I can think of where you have an indisputable black American leader as the focus of the film. What you’ve tended to have is Mississippi Burning or you have Glory or you have these films that are all through white protagonists. Great films – but a different point of view. You can’t have a film about Dr. King and it be all about Lyndon Johnson in my opinion.

Why do you think there are so many films about African Americans coming out of Hollywood lately?

I think it’s synonymous with Barack Obama’s presidency. I think having a black president means that for a lot of white people there is an opportunity to not just focus on what’s negative about the past, but we have clear indications of progress, so it becomes easier to go: “How did we get here, historically? How have we got to the point where we have a black president?” All these films, they were just not getting made before his presidency. I actually saw President Obama about two weeks ago when we took Selma to the White House, and I thanked him for my career.

What was his reaction?

He went, “Ah, I don’t know about that.” But I told him, “Trust me. I can track when these films came my way!” I can chart it because it’s synonymous with when I moved to L.A. I’ve been in five of those movies! So I think that’s what it is.

And last year 12 Years a Slave even won the Oscar for Best Picture.

But a film about a slave is different than a film about a leader. Black people have been celebrated as slaves and butlers… The very first black person to win an Oscar was for playing a maid in Gone With The Wind, Hattie McDaniel. So, you know, that’s not an issue. We’ve been celebrated as subservient people forever. Great! Fabulous! As leaders? No, not so much. Barely ever.

To quote Dr. King, do you believe that the arc of the moral universe bends towards justice in the end?

I think it does – if love is where you’re operating from. I think if you have anger and bitterness in your heart, and you just decide to lash out against it, all you do is you feed prejudice because prejudice exists on the basis that you are lesser than. If you prove that you are lesser than, you are only going to perpetuate that myth. I think there is a reason why the phrase is moral because to be moral is to absolutely embrace the fact that there is a right and there is a wrong. So the only way it bends towards justice is to be part of the solution as opposed to being part of the problem.

Source: The Talk

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