< PreviousEven how it’s expressed can vary. For some, it’s a visual overlap of colour. For others, it’s purely internal, an involuntary blooming of the spectrum stimulated. THE ROOT OF ALL (COLOUR) CAUSES Th e fi rst documented case of synaesthesia dates back to 1812, when German physician George Tobias Ludwig Sachs conducted a case study on himself. At the time, synaesthesia was not well understood or widely recognised, leading this early documentation to be frequently overlooked. In his study, Sachs described the phenomenon of “crossing of several sensations,” which we now understand as synaesthesia. Specifi cally, he experienced colours when hearing music, or chromaesthesia. But following Sachs’s early investigations, research into synaesthesia declined signifi cantly until the late 1800s, leaving gaps in the historical understanding and classifi cation of Sachs’s specifi c experiences. In more recent attempts to categorise and study the condition, Pearson says there were some researchers who tried to explain synaesthesia as a developed association, or Pavlov’s Dog theory. “Do you remember when, as a kid, you would have those alphabet books and boards and all the letters would be coloured?” Pearson quips. “Back then, you might have seen the letter A as red, over and over again. It’s an association similar to associative learning and classical conditioning. You learn these colour associations over thousands of repetitions. Th at was the idea for a while, but now there are many cases where people who never had those letter-colour associations still experience strong grapheme-colour synaesthesia.” Interestingly, Pearson says this act of association can in fact induce a synaesthesia-like experience but isn’t considered a true example of the condition. One of the hurdles of studying synaesthesia, or recognising when it occurs, is that those who have it often don’t realise their experience of the world is unusual. Or when they try to explain what they experience, it’s dismissed as a vivid imagination. IS IT ALL IN YOUR HEAD? Synaesthete artist Sarah Kraning was seven years old when she began to realise that her sensory experience was vastly diff erent to other people’s. She would often try to explain what was going on inside her mind to friends and family. “I’d describe the colours of sounds to my friends and family, and was often met by confused reactions or laughter,” she recalls. “I remember having a mini-argument with my mum as I described the colours I saw in a Disney song I loved, while she disagreed that there were any colours at all.” Kraning has several forms of synaesthesia, but the most vivid are sound based (chromaesthesia, like Sachs), auditory-tactile (sound-to- texture), and sound-to-motion synaesthesia. For her, soundscapes are moving colours, patterns, and textures, making each song a dynamic visual playground that she then channels into abstract painting. “I primarily paint music, but I also have been commissioned to paint people’s speaking voices, dogs barking, and even natural sounds like thunder and rain,” she says. “I’ve done some work with a global conservation nonprofi t, Re:wild, and my series with them is primarily focused on painting the soundscapes of endangered species around the world. “I try to feature not only the main colours I see in a sound, but I’m very intrigued by the movement in sound specifi cally. My work highlights all of the sensory elements of sound to me – colour, texture, and movement.” 48GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM GME_011_046to049_Synesthesia_13374733.indd 4801/10/2024 21:15Many famous individuals have spoken about their synaesthetic experiences and how these infl uence their creativity. Legendary jazz musician Duke Ellington saw colours when he heard notes, a phenomenon that shaped his iconic compositions. Similarly, artist Wassily Kandinsky experienced sounds as colours and shapes, which signifi cantly infl uenced his abstract paintings. Modern musicians like Pharrell Williams and Tori Amos also attribute their unique musical styles to their synaesthesia. It’s not all rainbows, though (pardon the pun). Th e dislike for a specifi c colour can be so intense it impacts its associations, as irrational as that may seem. Charli XCX, who has chromaesthesia, famously gave away her track ‘I Love It’ to Icona Pop because she didn’t like its colour. Th e 32-year-old explained that while she likes music that is black, pink, purple or even red she “hates music that’s green, yellow or brown”. How neon green became the colour of ‘brat’ summer, then, is anyone’s guess. Or perhaps it’s as simple as the fact that it represents the gleeful antagonism that underscores the album. We, the listener, resonate with it because on some level that many of us can’t comprehend, the specifi c green of the album cover and the sound are in perfect harmony. WITH GREAT SUPERPOWERS COME… CHALLENGES Since synaesthesia can enhance creativity and even memory, synaesthetes often perform better in memory tests, says Pearson. It’s due to synaesthetes’ multisensory methods of recall – but it can also pose challenges. “I’ve experienced a lot of overstimulation as a result of my synaesthesia,” says Kraning. “Growing up, I struggled a bit in school due to how noisy the classrooms were. I’d be so focused on the chaotic jumble of colours of kids chattering that I’d be too distracted from taking my tests!” Despite these challenges, Kraning has developed strategies to manage overstimulation, such as carrying headphones and earplugs to crowded places. Synaesthetes have also shared experiences of struggling with words that are too similar in colour, meaning they can jumble up letters. In one case, they say that the words become a blob of colour. Others have reported struggling with maths. In a synaesthesia subReddit, one person shared how their condition interrupted the fl ow of numbers. “When an addition goes across a 10-boundary, you know?” the source described. “Like, 27 + 6 is so weird to me. I have to visualise it as 27 + 3 + 3 so my brain can actually do anything with that.” Despite these challenges, synaesthesia is not a disorder but a testament to the incredible diversity of human perception. “It’s part of neural diversity,” says Pearson. “Like other variations in cognitive and perceptual experiences, it enriches our understanding of how diff erent our brains can be and how these diff erences contribute to our unique ways of interacting with the world.” Kraning echoes this sentiment, noting that reading research about synaesthesia has helped her understand and empathise with herself. “Th is feeling of validation – that there wasn’t anything ‘wrong’ with me – is part of what fuels my desire to keep sharing my art with others,” she says. GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM49 GME_011_046to049_Synesthesia_13374733.indd 4901/10/2024 21:15GME_011_050to053_MirrorMirror_13374739.indd 5001/10/2024 21:16Has the fractured trend cycle made us blind to our own faces? WORDS ANGELA LAW Some of my earliest memories involve sitting on my mum’s bed and watching her cleanse her face, apply her blush, and use a tissue to blot away any excess mauve lipstick from her lips. To me, especially at seven years old, it was impossibly chic, and whether she planned it or not, it’s a ritual that has been passed down to me. Admittedly, beauty routines have evolved since the ’90s, when we would luxuriate in our tried-and-true makeup routines for months or years at a time. My mum had one makeup bag. She owned just one or two options for each product, and her signature look was polished but simple, and so beautifully her. For many years, my makeup bag was a similarly tight edit. I had one of each product and I used them to the last drop before replacing them. (On TikTok, they’d now call that ‘underconsumption core’.) Now, among a sea of ‘in’ and ‘out’ lists, one thing has become increasingly clear: the once 20-year trend cycle has eaten itself. “Th e rule of thumb when it comes to trends, especially in fashion but [also] encompassing beauty, is the 20-year cycle,” says trend forecaster and the Head of Beauty at Stylus, an international trends intelligence fi rm, Lisa Payne. “Specifi c trends don’t ever truly die but resurface every couple of decades or so.” Take blush draping as an example. Th is application technique emerged in the 1980s, with Grace Jones as its most iconic proponent. It’s characterised by a bold, candy-pink wash of colour that extends from the apples of the cheeks and up towards the temple before blending across the brow bone for a blown-out fl ush. MIRROR–MIRROR Th ough it’s synonymous with crimped hair and clashing, cool-toned blue eyeshadow, blush draping returned to favour on the runway in the 2000s, before trickling down to TikTok, where it was picked up by beauty lovers like me. Blush draping is a case in point for the 20-year trend cycle, as are the razor-thin brows favoured by fashion darlings Gabbriette Bechtel and Bella Hadid. But as I fl ick through TikTok, I’ve noticed that more often, trends are being born and killed in the same month. “While I believe this [20-year] model still exists at a fundamental level in fashion [where we’re] still being led by seasonal runway shows, the beauty trend cycle has become a bit less cleanly cyclical,” says Payne. THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS According to Payne, social media has thrown a “proverbial spanner” in the trend cycle, expediting and condensing the process dramatically. “An endless stream of ideas, visuals and experimentations are available to us whenever we choose to engage,” she says. “Th is encourages the type of frenzied sharing and copying that catalyses trends one day and renders them obsolete on another.” Th is has given rise to a fractured visual terrain in which countless contradictory trends resurface and coexist all at once. We’re supposed to be glowy clean girls who aren’t wearing makeup, GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM51 GME_011_050to053_MirrorMirror_13374739.indd 5101/10/2024 21:16unless it’s a blurred, Parisian-esque red lip. Wear highlighter, but not powder highlighter (unless it’s on our eyes) and make sure our eyebrows are tamed but never laminated. Th is chaotic mix has taken something that used to be fun and triggered a kind of existential panic on TikTok, where the rise of terms like ‘blush blindness’ (100.6 million posts and counting) and ‘eyebrow blindness’ (192 million posts) has one side laughing at the overuse of blush or enthusiastic brows, and the other defending it. Some are foregoing blush altogether – or brows, in the case of those who are bleaching to near-translucency or plucking to a thin strand. It’s a far cry from my mum’s reliable routines. Th e idea that we could assume someone is ‘blind’ to what their own face looks like or the assumption that they’ll one day look back at photos of themselves with embarrassment is one that Doniella Davy, the Emmy Award-winning makeup artist behind the iconic looks in HBO’s Euphoria and founder of Half Magic, is quick to challenge. “It’s really judge-y,” she says. “[People accused of blush or eyebrow blindness] actually [might] just really prefer it that way or there’s a reason they do it like that, and I think it’s so much cooler to just do your own thing.” Sometimes, though, that’s easier said than done. When we fi re up TikTok and see countless videos where people are sledging the way we do our own makeup, it’s a critique that feels oddly personal, because beauty is personal. A WARPED TIMELINE Th e ritual of getting ready is near-sacred for many women. It’s why we plan pre-drinks at a friend’s house while we do our hair and makeup for the club at 18 years old. It’s also why you’ll fi nd me sifting through my vanity every morning like it’s my own personal department store until I fi nd the perfect combination of foundation, blush, highlight, contour and bronzer – technically, they’re diff erent – brow gel and mascara, lip liner and gloss, to help me face the day. I could blame my swimming-in-beauty-products on being a beauty editor, but that would only be partially true. Th e entire truth is more fraught. Whether I like to admit it or not, I’m extremely infl uenced by social media. “If we look at what used to be the biggest sources of trends, [it was] fashion designers, makeup artists and celebrities,” explains Payne. “We could argue that social media has democratised the trend landscape and made it a much more diverse, inclusive space that welcomes ideas and ‘sparks’ from many more places.” It’s also made it harder to escape, when what’s ‘in’ is no longer dictated by a monthly magazine, but by whomever your algorithm chooses to show you on any given day. I’m probably more infl uenced than most. It kind of comes with the territory as a beauty editor as I’m constantly testing new trends and product innovations to explain what’s worth our money, and what belongs in the bin. Th is constant testing has made my makeup routine a moveable feast. So, as I do my makeup each morning, I fi nd myself dipping into a wide range of ever-evolving micro trends. Th e main diff erence between a micro trend and a regular (or macro) trend is its longevity. “Macro trends will be suited or applicable to and propagated by the most people and will boast longevity, while also encompassing many diff erent product categories,” explains Payne. She provides the concept of ‘wellness’ as an example of a macro trend, pointing specifi cally to the way it’s bled into industries like beauty with innovations such as complex rejuvenation science. Conversely, micro trends tend to be seasonal (lasting just one to three months) and are fl ashes in the pan that will burn out quickly. “We will, for example, defi ne the [American] summer of 2024 as the ‘brat’ summer and by the aesthetic and vibes this [Charli XCX] album has proliferated since its release,” says Payne. Th e same logic can be applied to micro beauty trends. For example, once upon a time, I’d have said that you would need to prise my thick, matte, mousse foundation from my cold dead hands, along with my black kohl liner and exhausted tweezers. I now look back on those makeup looks and fi ght a shudder at what I once thought looked good. But the diff erence between how trends moved then versus now is that I can look back at old clubbing photos and the makeup I thoughtfully applied while sitting cross-legged on the carpet shoulder-to-shoulder with my best friend, and be smug in the knowledge that I’ve moved on and evolved. I feel nostalgic for that time, when my thick black liner was expertly applied to my waterline without a second thought. 52GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM GME_011_050to053_MirrorMirror_13374739.indd 5201/10/2024 21:16In 2024, we don’t have that same luxury. Instead of cringing about the slathered tightliner we wore 20 years ago, we’re now cringing about our cat-eye wing while it’s still on our face. All because someone we don’t know said on an app that it’s embarrassing. Th is sense of shame over playing with brief makeup trends is something Davy does not subscribe to. “What I do think is cringy about trends, is when everyone starts doing the same look and not really putting their own spin on it,” she says. “But what I also love about trends is that it gets people to just try new things.” From that perspective, she thinks our warp-speed trend cycle is “kind of great”. NOT THAT DEEP It’s interesting to consider the ways the constant infl ux of critique on social media and our societal inclination to bare all online has us applying undue gravity to something even as frivolous as makeup. “It just doesn’t have to be that serious,” says Davy. “Rules really bum me out, like when people think that if you’re over a certain age, shimmer or glitter will accentuate wrinkles and make you look older. Th at’s just not true,” she explains. “Th ere are so many ways to wear glitter and shimmer at any age that [looks] absolutely lovely.” Davy adds that people often feel the need to enforce arbitrary and tiring rules in order to ‘fi x’ something about ourselves or feel like we have our fi nger on the pulse. We’re told to wear particular shades of red lipstick to match our undertone or to always apply contour in a way that makes our nose look slimmer or cheeks less round. “It’s actually really beautiful to have, like, a very round cheek with blush on it,” refutes Davy. As the makeup artist responsible for ushering in the colourful and glittering makeup looks made famous by Euphoria (and quickly adopted by the world), it’s her hope that the current speed of the trend cycle may help people fi nd their personal style. “I think what could happen is, when the dust kind of settles, everyone feels a little more comfortable and able to create their own little signature look,” she says, adding that if someone falls in love with green eyeliner during brat summer, they should continue wearing it, even after the moment is inevitably declared ‘over’. HERE COMES THE BRIDE Makeup is supposed to be playful and experimental. But when you dabble in the world of trends, you can fi nd yourself fi lled with shame when you step back from the mirror and fi nd that your face more closely resembles a Picasso than an expressive but perfectly cohesive and timeless look. Th is idea of always looking timeless is a concept I’ve personally grappled with in the past few months as I plan my wedding. I tried on the fl oor-skimming gowns with boned bodices and billowing trains and toured the picturesque event spaces – so classic in their timelessness that they would be virtually indistinguishable from my parents’ wedding, or their parents’ before them. But after four years of delaying planning because it felt too daunting, I decided to get married in front of a 12-metre-long bar in the city. I selected a fl irty mini dress that’s not dissimilar to Sofi a Richie Grainge’s reception dress, though instead of Chanel, it’s Prea James and instead of a camellia over the bust, it’s an oversized bow at my mid-back. I’ve decided to lean so far into the moment and take cues from current trends over traditional classics so as to capture this time completely. I plan to delight in my choices and refuse to cringe away from them – now or in 20 years’ time. “Th ere’s something kind of sad about living for the future,” Davy agrees. “It’s like, who cares? It’s also just a moment in time. You can wear that colour lipstick today. You can wear a diff erent colour tomorrow.” Or, you can be like my mum, and adopt a macro trend like mauve lipstick and allow it to become a meaningful ritual in your day, regardless of where the trends move next. GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM53 GME_011_050to053_MirrorMirror_13374739.indd 5301/10/2024 21:1654GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM GME_011_54to67_ArtFeature_13381442.indd 5401/10/2024 21:17THE ARTIST’S WAY Like a kaleidoscope, an artist’s eye is ever changing. Ahead, emerging and established artists from around the world detail their intricate and seemingly arbitrary patterns and processes of creativity through one poignant piece of work WORDS AVA GILCHRIST ANNA POGOSSOVA Th e saccharine provinces conjured up by Moscow-born, Sydney-based artist and still-life photographer Anna Pogossova unpack what is assumed, albeit without words. To Pogossova, colour is “highly symbolic and has a way of infl uencing interpretation in profound ways”. “To quote Miranda Priestly, ‘It’s not just blue’. Colour comes from something more elusive and otherworldly,” she says. Fitting, then, that her work Ø Portal Entry (Th e Acrylic Age) confi gures folkloric shapes with the familiar texture of smooth plastic toys, theme-park rides and waterslides. Constructed from pigment paint, this fi ctitious playground emerges from its goopy residue to create a speculative environment which deconstructs form and function. It’s not too dissimilar to Salvador Dalí’s surreal landscapes. What will emerge next through the arched passageway is anyone’s guess. Yet without fail, you can rely on a vivid palette to be Pogossova’s perennial building block. Cinematic techniques, pop culture motifs and science-fi ction elements are an additional framework to convey these fantasy lands. Th ese are tools Pogossova uses in her work to trigger associations. “What [the pieces] are and how they are made is much less important than their ability to transport us.” Ø Portal Entry (The Acrylic Age), 2022, Pigment print on acrylic facemount, Anna Pogossova. Courtesy of Jerico Contemporary GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM55 GME_011_54to67_ArtFeature_13381442.indd 5501/10/2024 21:17SARAH MORRIS Sarah Morris began her career as an assistant to one of the 20th century’s greatest satirists, Jeff Koons. Rather than using humour or irony to impart modernity, Morris fuses structural lines with vibrant patterns. Th e result? A captivating piece that is equal parts multifarious as it is mechanical. In this work, titled You Cannot Keep Love from her 2020 Sound Graph series, Morris utilises household gloss paint in an interplay between natural and manufactured assemblies. Her relation to global cities is crucial to her designs. Knowing this, one viewer may see skyscrapers; another may perceive an optical illusion of tessellating parts You Cannot Keep Love, 2020, Household gloss paint on canvas, Sarah Morris. Courtesy of White Cube moving together. Th ese diff erent interpretations are exactly what Morris hopes for, with the name of the series inspired by German fi lmmaker, poet, and lawyer, Alexander Kluge. “[Alexander and I] were speaking about the role of the artist in relation to their audience, and that you cannot dictate or control what goes on,” Morris says. From this, voice work and sonics arose as the central focus. “It’s impossible to think about my work and the city without sound,” Morris says. 56GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM GME_011_54to67_ArtFeature_13381442.indd 5601/10/2024 21:17DANIEL DOMIG Jutted and protruding limbs in washes of eggplant, tangerine and midnight blue aren’t what we see in our refl ections. But what if Daniel Domig’s rendering of the human form is the real mirror image? With this work, the Vienna-based painter reimagines fi gures in relation to themselves. “We live in a time where we seem to have forgotten how beautiful fragmentation – the plethora of perspectives and experiences – can be,” he says of his inorganic subjects. “From political to personal, we search for the simple and often one-dimensional aspects of life. I like to lean in the opposite direction.” Th is consciously defi ant act encourages more room for the uncertain, unfi nished and imperfect parts of ourselves – a theme that’s carried through in each stroke. Domig’s use of thin layers of oil paint demands further inspection to spot the multicolour particles hiding within a monochrome palette. He likens this process to his childhood evenings in Vancouver. “When I was young, I often marvelled at the colours I could see in the dark that weren’t visible when my mother fi rst turned off the light,” he says. “Art is a lab to explore vision, time and transformation.” Doubt Comes In Many Shapes, I Like This One, 2023, Oil on canvas, Daniel Domig Courtesy of Chalk Horse GRAZIAMA GAZINE. COM57 GME_011_54to67_ArtFeature_13381442.indd 5701/10/2024 21:17Next >