“It’s about making language visual,” respond the three members of Nous Vous when I ask them about their distinctly French name, which translates to We, You. “Well, it rolls off the tongue nicely, too,” laughs Jay Cover, who founded the London-based trio with William Edmonds and Nicolas Burrows back in 2007. “But aside from that, our external influences tend to be design manifestos where the process is conscious of the audience and collaboration.” We, You — there is a certain anonymity to their practice, reflected also in their European website domain (nousvous.eu), placing the group nowhere specific, perhaps in an effort to avoid defining their collective body of work.
As image-makers, drawing is the pivotal tool to their craft, and all three like to hand-render as much as possible. “We like to mix it up; we get bored quite easily so tend to borrow each others processes,” says William, pointing out his recent foray into ceramics, which was ignited after dropping in on a local pottery class at Hackney City Farm. His wares are manifestations of his drawings — graphic dimensions and trademark wavy lines that oscillate between sculptural and functional. While Nicolas is predominantly a print-maker, incorporating collage and assemblage, and Jay a self-confessed “tinkerer” (which currently includes toy-making, drawing and mark-making), there’s a common current that unifies and pulls their visual practice together.
To the viewer, this instantly resides in their use of color. William cites Memphis, 80s-inspired plastic-brights, and more sculptural ceramics like those of Peter Shire as references, whilst for Jay and Nicolas, it’s about taking a mental note of everyday, of odd and accidental color combinations. “Sometimes it’s about throwing yourself a curve ball and trying to work with it.” But it’s exhibitions that best serve as a test bed for their collective framework. Their recent Flim Flam Flum solo exhibition at London’s KK Outlet in January saw the brilliant interplay of their collective works — illustration, print design, animation, set design, and ceramics; individually distinct, yet witty in color, form, and play when combined.
In between regular commercial commissions for illustration and cultural clients — including Nike, Bloomberg, The New York Times, The Tate, and The Gourmand, to name but a few — the gang are happiest when making things for themselves. “I was drawing with a router and it accidentally moved and I like how it slipped,” says Jay of the logical progression born out of a new process that he’s recently been working with. It’s an intervention of process, sure to be one of many in the collective’s ever-evolving practice.
Objects made during the group’s “A Watery Line” residency and exhibition at The Tetley in Leeds last August, where they also held open studios and a program of workshops around the various forms of making.
“Tinkerings,” or mini sculptures by Jay, comprise wooden replicas of his drawings, made for their solo show Flim Flam Flum at the KK Outlet. In the background, a paper pulp collage of smaller exploratory “biscuits.”
’80s-inspired colors translate the oscillating lines through which Will builds visual layers, from wavy screen prints to wooden set designs and collaged textiles.
An orange, wood-routed print by Jay. “I was drawing with a router and it accidentally moved and I like how it slipped.”
The pitcher and thrown cups made from stoneware — with multiple glazes and sprinkled stains — are amongst William’s first vessels, having discovered a passion for clay after local, drop-in pottery classes.
William and Nicolas (right) first met while studying graphic design together at Leeds College of Art, collaborating on projects during their first and second years. “We had a similar approach and visual way of seeing,” notes William. A unique identity inspired them to carve out their own D.I.Y scene, where they met and hung out with Jay, amongst other like-minded friends, and drew together.
Jay’s creative corner, where he’s currently developing mechanical toys in line with his humorous illustrations. “It’s a new step when making something new —a logical progression in broadening your practice.”
A doodle of the collective, who have been together since 2007.
Jay’s playful illustrations capture the humorous character of wild animals, people and trappings of daily life, some of which he’s now developing into mechanical toys for an upcoming residency at Facebook in Silicon Valley.
When not working on commercial commissions, the gang collaborates on smaller independent projects with their wide circle of London artists and friends. Nicolas is currently working on jam packaging for local shopkeeper and friend London Borough of Jam; Jay, illustrations and coordinating toy-making kits for London illustrator Rob Lowe of Supermundane.
Will’s ceramics corner.
He first discovered a passion for ceramics after dropping in on the local pottery classes at Hackney City Farm, developing the language of shape versus function through into a distinctive range of vessels.
Visual communication is the backbone of the collective’s design mantra, particularly design manifestos where the process is conscious of the audience and collaboration.
In the background, the printed book made for their “Flim Flam Flum” solo exhibition at London’s KK Outlet where the collective brought together their various works in illustration, print design, animation, set design, and ceramics.
The studio’s location in Dalston serves as a rich bed for creative happenings, particularly for William and Nicolas who are both musicians in bands.
“It’s about making language visual,” say the collective about their French name, which creates a certain anonymity around their practice — a conscious effort to avoid defining their collective body of work.
Drawing is the pivotal tool to the collective’s craft and all three like to hand-render as much as possible. Nicolas’ current collection of linocut and woodcut prints on Japanese paper are concerned with the harmony of color and shape.
William’s wares are manifestations of his drawings; graphic dimensions and trademark wavy lines that oscillate between sculptural and functional.
We love William’s latest Cup and Jug set, purposefully off-kilter and wobbly for a more human, personal collection of vessels.
Ephemera and objects, the colorful fruits of their last nine months of studio practice leading up to the KK solo show at the beginning of this year.
Visual communication, design theory, poetry, painting and botanical observations — the studio’s bookcases reflect the collective’s wide points of visual reference, embellished with Will’s latest clay creations and an ever-watchful E.T.
Will cleaning up and adding the finishing markings to his latest batch of Empty vessel pots before firing.
A look across the studio, with the newly acquired kiln (right). “I keep it really clean as it’s easy to get messy and untidy in this small space, and with such a material,” says Will.
So many of the designers we've featured here on Sight Unseen grew up somewhere small, but left their hometowns behind for someplace big. Kiel Mead grew up in Buffalo but moved to Brooklyn. Max Lamb started out on the beach in Cornwall but headed inland to London. Sam Baron spent his childhood in the mountains of France, but is now so worldly he splits time between Paris and Lisbon. But what of the people who stay behind? Who are the artists and designers who make up the cultural fabric of, say, a Tucson or a Des Moines? That's what the three-year-old annual nonprofit magazine Outpost Journal purports to find out.
Long Island City, New York, is a vibrant up-and-coming neighborhood, home to MoMA PS1 and more than a few buzzy new restaurants. But it's also quite industrial, and prone to long, lonely stretches of aesthetic drabness that can alienate the casual visitor. The last time I toured an artist's studio there, nearly a decade ago, it was a woman who painted eye-poppingly bright, striated color fields almost compulsively, as if to insulate herself from the world outside her door. I don't purport to know Matthew Ronay's relationship with his adopted surroundings — he was born in Louisville, Kentucky in 1976 — but his paintings and sculptures certainly add up to one big escapist fantasy: His last big show in New York, at Andrea Rosen Gallery in 2011, was a three-dimensional enchanted forest populated with unidentifiable creatures and eyeball trees, while his latest work revolves around a wall that he imagines to be a portal to another world, perhaps one that looks less like a dreary factory yard and more like a sunny idyll. Maybe that's why Los Angeles designer and Sight Unseen pal David John is so drawn to it? John interviewed Ronay last week on his cult blog, You Have Been Here Sometime, and invited imminent Sight Unseen contributor Brian Ferry to shoot the artist's studio.
Is it possible, in this day and age, to have a new movement in design, à la Art Deco, or Memphis? That was the question we posed to our panel of emerging designers a few weeks ago at the Collective Design Fair here in New York City, and the consensus appeared to be no. (As one participant claimed, "Everything just looks like the internet now.") But this week, a new group show opened in London, curated by Printhouse Gallery's Ruth Hanahoe and illustrator Saskia Pomeroy, that claimed one such new movement. They call it the New Abstract, and they've brought together different media in the visual arts — primarily prints, paintings, and ceramics — all united by a certain aesthetic and informed in some way by the process of making. (To be fair, a lot of the work does look like the internet; perhaps Tumblr is this generation's aesthetic movement.) We're still on the fence about whether the name will stick, but the curators do make an excellent case for the commonalities that tie the work together.
