Marian Machismo x Screaming Hand


Marian Machismo believes that ghosts exist and that 90s pop songs will outlive us all. She believes that a day doesn’t start before the second cup of coffee and that the solution to most problems can be found by looking at the sky. She believes in the transformative nature of art and the benefits of a stiff drink to calm the nerves.

In her usual way, she took the concept of an interview and ran with it. We take great pleasure in sharing her thoughts with you below:

Photo: p1xels

Growing up in the body of a socially awkward girl on a commune in the middle of nowhere surrounded by nothing provided the younger version of myself three very important life lessons. Firstly the innate knowledge that I would never be cool, not at least until well after high school when the hormones had relinquished control, allowing conversation to emerge. Secondly and I should add that this was learnt in the aforementioned later teens, having experienced very little by way of popular culture and having never surfed or skated or undergone any life changing experience thus allowing me to wax lyrical in any entertaining or captivating way, that there is in fact very little to talk about. Thirdly and by far more important in the scheme of things is the understanding that regardless of age, experience, location, social status and language there exists a cannon of symbols that unite us. Within these symbols lie a universal understanding of experience, energy and creation. Music is one of these symbols, as is art. This seems obvious but stay with me… I remember the Nokia 3310. I remember it with more detail then my first kiss, my first cigarette or the first time I fell off my Girlfriends Skateboard in a mess of hair, limbs and feelings. I remember it because it symbolized freedom. Or at least as far as I understood it to be and after enduring weeks of teenage phoneless angst I finally hit my limit and approached the parental figures. This was met with blood boiling laughter. I was then promptly gifted a palm sized piece of rose quartz, a loosely worded statement about contacting beings on different plains of conciseness and ushered along. Why did I need a phone? Who was I going to call? How was I planning on charging it? I digress, this wasn’t the first or last time I felt like I was missing out on being part of something bigger than myself. I don’t remember the first time I saw the Screaming hand, within my lifetime it has practically always existed. Like a secret code that once cracked would provide the tools required to experience true freedom. It was a secret language spoken by tanned surfers and rad skaters and understood by only the top tier of cool and then slowly it grew and with it grew a generation, technologically mobilized and hungry for symbolic importance. Conversations were carried with Simpson’s references, Seinfeld one-liners and the understanding that we were all part of something bigger. Jim Phillips created something previously unheard of; he built a bridge and in doing so allowed the pasty pale plebs a way to get over it. Surfers talk about the calm of the ocean or the powerful and mystic beauty of nature or whatever but for me making art, creating conversation with and about personal experiences and connecting with others through this is the rumble of the wild. The understanding that everything is connected and lines and barriers can be crossed, crossed out and then crossed again. Being asked to be part of a show like this would be cool for any artist but for the quiet, lonely child inside me it is my Mecca and its with great pleasure that I hold my head up high and say to the Heathers that made my formative years hell ‘Sit and Spin Baby, Sit and Spin’ #nailedit