The Talks

Jack Antonoff: “It’s a lived life together”
Jack, several years ago you were asked what the key is to success as a musician, and you answered that it involves finding the thing that brings you discomfort and sitting in it. What kind of discomfort is informing your work these days?
Well, to me, the core discomfort in my writing has always been reckoning with grief. What's so fascinating about grief is how it changes, and it changes through the lens of life that you're in. It changes. It goes on. Eventually you start reaching a point where the grief is not even with you every day, and it's almost more sad. That’s always been the driving force for me as a musician because when I really was growing as a writer, when I was young, that's when my sister got sick, and a few years later she died. That time period of my teenage years, that chunk which is obviously formative, that was the story… And a part of you freezes. The part of me that froze, I'm just trying so hard to drag into the present, it’s almost like there's like two of me, and I'm trying to join it as one person. So I would say that's the great discomfort.
And of course that kind of discomfort impacts every part of your life, not just your songwriting.
Right, how does that affect my relationships? How does that secondary me, that ghostliness affect my marriage, my family relationship, my friendships, my band, all of it. And so even a song like “dirty wedding dress,” from the new Bleachers album everyone for 10 minutes, which I think is pretty fun, even that is an expression of that discomfort because I’m saying that I don't want to be casually seen; it’s about the past and the future, and trying to push forward as hard as I can.

Jeremy Chan: “It feels very free”
Mr. Chan, as a chef and co-owner of the two Michelin star restaurant Ikoyi, when did you first fall in love with spice?
I think my first memory of spice is when my dad would make wontons or noodles for us as kids, and when we'd eat them as a family, he would always have a very intense chili oil seasoning in his broth. I would only put a pinprick of it on my chopstick, but I remember tasting his broth after he'd finished his noodles, and I would think, “This is the level of spice that I need to get to.” Even though it was too spicy for me at the time, I remember the intensity of the flavor, the saltiness, the sweetness, the depth of flavor…
So you really grew up being open to spice and heat, exploring its different flavor profiles, its mouthfeel, the different dimensions that it can take.
Absolutely, my parents have been always very open minded, they’ve always exposed me to different cuisines, different tastes… So I grew willing to try things, I approached spice with this worldview. I had an exploratory mind when it came to food. And then in college, I had a very close friend who was from Sichuan and I would go to his house and have hot pot with his parents. And that really blew my mind! I remember it was summertime, it was humid, and we were eating this crazy spicy broth with shrimp, tripe, beef, mushrooms and vegetables. But it felt cleansing! This heightened, intense, almost painful spice experience with these fresh vegetables… I couldn't stop eating, even though the spice was causing me pain, it was burning in my mouth and I was sweating from the humidity. I felt cleansed. I felt like I'd had been through some kind of Ayahuasca experience. It was very mind awakening. That was a very important moment for me, because it really impacted how I cook and how I view the pleasure and deliciousness of eating.

Joanna Van Son: “Painting became my anchor”

Thomas Houseago: “There’s a form of survival in that”

Inez & Vinoodh: “What is reality?”

Autumn Durald Arkapaw: “It’s an out of body experience”

Joachim Trier: “I’m going for it”

Jessie Buckley: “There’s nothing I let go of”

Paul Thomas Anderson: “We continue to move forward”

Adolpho Veloso: “It puts you in a different state”








































































