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Toogood, an interior design studio and fashion label, is sustained by surprising but harmonious collision. Founded in London in 2008 by Faye Toogood, the studio’s furniture – scooped-out, sculptural but soft-edged – is hand-manufactured by small-scale artisans, whether from raw fibreglass to aluminium. The homeware similarly employs curving, full shapes, and is large-scale (no small plates here). Faye and her sister Erica also collaborate with designers and artists on their fashion line to create clothing that orbits the traditions and technical skills of craftsmanship, taking inspiration from labouring jobs such as masonry and metalworking. TANK took over the new showroom, overlooking the canal in Camden, to shoot among the furniture and furnishings.
The oldest versions of the evil eye are more than 5,000 years old. As a talisman to ward against the destructive power of an ill-intentioned glare, the evil eye is found worldwide, often in the form of an eye looking back – just like gargoyles affixed to church gutters, which fend off evil by matching it in grotesqueness.
You slice into a plump tomato. Its surface breaks with just a little force and bursts into a crimson puddle of pips, revealing an architectural cross-section of skin, flesh and gelatinous core. Doused with lashings of neon extra virgin and crowned with salt and black pepper, the tang of a tomato sings. Yet no fruit has been more misunderstood. Tomatoes are rotten, sad, and even murderous, as illustrated in the sci-fi spoof Attack of the Killer Tomatoes! (1978) – in which giant tomatoes go on the rampage, splattering innocent victims – but most of all, tomatoes are evil. When the tomato first arrived on European soil a little over 500 years ago – either brought back from Central America by Spanish conquistadors or imported to Italy from Mexico by two Jesuit priests – the fruit was deemed the work of the devil.
The tomato comes from the Solanaceae family, which includes flowering deadly nightshade and the mandrake fruit, both infamous for their hallucinogenic, toxic and death-inducing properties. In the Old Testament, the mandrake is referred to as dudaim, the Hebrew word for “love apple,” used to make a seduction potion in the Book of Genesis. In the late 18th century, European aristocrats lived in fear of the tomato. Anointed the “poison apple” and blamed for causing illness among the wealthy, the tomato’s high acid content would draw out lead from the pewter plates and utensils they dined off.
Some say raw tomatoes taste like blood, and indeed they contain compounds more common in meat than in fruits and vegetables, like glutamic acid and sulphur. These produce the tomato’s metallic, almost bodily flavour, which emits a particularly bad smell when rotting. Tomato seeds also readily pass through the digestive tract, making them common weeds around sewage plants. These crushed tomatoes photographed after a market by Charles Negre could be the refuse of a butcher’s shop. The tomato’s ventricles, its carrion atmosphere, might remind us of the insides of our own bodies, even at the very moment of eating. It’s this visceral connection that ties the tomato to our own mortal and sinful selves, with all the dangerous fluids and fancies we contain. Augustine Hammond
Hear ye, hear ye; the world’s first and only medieval beats machine has arrived. Swedish electronics company Teenage Engineering have crafted the EP-1320, an “instrumentalis electronicum” promising the user the ability to wield hundreds of sounds from the Dark Ages, including “hurdy gurdys, lutes, Gregorian chants, thundering drums and punishing percussive foley”. Among the sounds are many ready-to-play instruments, including – if you consider the hurdy gurdy too mainstream – the citole, bowed harp and gittern; the foley on offer includes the voices of “no less than two separate witches”. The name refers perhaps to the year 1320, a year which hasn’t bequeathed huge amounts of recorded history to the present, but in which hundreds of shepherds began a spontaneous crusade after one of their number was visited by the Holy Spirit. In the year 2024, the EP-1320 promises to induce a similarly giddy energy, if you can harness its energy to produce this century’s most potent bubonic beats. Nell Whittaker
In the later half of the 20th century, Andrew Grima revolutionised jewellery design with abstract and organic shapes. This ring in the centre was designed by Grima in 1995, and features a rose-cut emerald in undulating diamond border, marrying the intensity of chlorophyll green to the gentleness of nature’s free-form shapes. Since his death in 2007, his wife Jojo and daughter Francesca create limited edition lines inspired by Grima’s principles. Their designs, top and bottom, balance a soft angularity with the liquid light of gemstone.
In the Torah, Parashat Acharei Mot describes a Yom Kippur ritual involving two goats: one is saved and one is driven into the desert, carrying the community’s sins (forming the origin of the term scapegoat). In the Christian Bible, the Book of Revelation describes God, at the end of the world, separating the sheep (representing the good) from the goats (representing the bad): the goats to hell, the sheep to heaven. Then in 1856, Éliphas Lévi created Baphomet, an occult goat-like figure, on which contemporary goatish entities such as Robert Eggers’ Black Phillip are based. Goats are mistrusted, perhaps because of their willful nature, and their eerie, rectangular pupils. But who would choose to be a gentle but feeble sheep over the rangy, stubborn, independent goat? If the sheep’s baa sounds like a plaintive lament, the goat’s is a screech of laughter. While the goat may be a good metaphor for the sinner, he’s also a standard bearer for the joys of being bad. Nell Whittaker
Romanian designer and recent Central Saint Martins graduate Alina Ispas issues a provocation. This cape, with its 15,000-plus hand-applied square mirror tiles, is a refutation of tired right-wing rhetoric about Eastern European immigration, as well as a triumphant demonstration of skill. And not only the wording but the tiny mirrors send a message: as Ispas says, “We are all a reflection of each other.”
In Glasgow’s sad-looking Mitchell Library, Joey Simons laid out Beyond the Forbidden Gate: alternative visions for North Glasgow in films, books, documentation, maps and campaigns. One of the great Glaswegian civic buildings, the Mitchell Library faces eye-watering budgetary pressure due to its proximity to the motorway, insufficient funding, and a gigantic bill for the Glasgow subway. This made it an apt host for Simons’s exceptional research about urban development in North Glasgow, which mapped out the class forces that shape this area, such as the bait-and-switch tactics used by developers, who acquire financial awards for green and community projects only to scrap them. Civic spaces such as those in Springburn and Possilpark, endlessly under threat, remain vital for culture to resist and persist. Christabel Stewart
Swatch singlehandedly “saved” the Swiss watch industry with watches that were colourful, loud, and unapologetically cheerful – and, as they note, sold at a democratic price. The label takes transparency even further with clear watch casings, so that the wearer can watch the minutes being formed – as their logo proclaims, “time is what you make of it.”
In the book of Genesis, the power derived from the Fruit of Knowledge is enough for Adam and Eve to relinquish the incorporeal pleasures of the Garden of Eden and descend to humanity’s sensual carnality. When Dior launched Poison in 1985, the fragrance’s apple-shaped bottle and sweetly spiced juice became one of the most iconic fragrances from the French house. Now, another apple falls from the tree in the form of Hypnotic Poison, the first Eau de Parfum in Dior’s Hypnotic range. Formulated using fragrance absolutes, a more concentrated, potent form of essential oil, the juice of Hypnotic Poison entrances in its honeyed, curvaceous fullness. As with a particularly alluring lover, it offers a pleasing, mischievous resistance in its black licorice and ghostly almond opening, before revealing animalic jasmine and candied tonka bean notes in its depths. The mulberry hue of the original bottle has been upgraded to a cherry red, requiring a multi-temperature firing process and five different pigments to create its rich shade. Giving in to temptation has never smelt so good. Matteo Pini
Paris-born knitwear designer Pauline Dujancourt creates a gossamer architecture, incorporating contrasting panels of intricate patterning with broad, tattered bands (which flow down to a Baba Yaga foot). The result is a meld of precise construction and dishevelment, where the raw meets the refined.
Dressing Jum for this shot in Welsh designer Paolo Carzana’s modular tailoring involved careful draping. These trousers consist of two separate legs, like chaps, with silky briefs beneath, while the top can be arranged to conceal – or reveal.
Rav Matharu, aka clothsurgeon, used to be a professional footballer for Leeds United – so brings an extreme familiarity with the cut and feel of sportswear to his Savile Row-based brand. Combining streetwear and precise tailoring, clothsurgeon’s clothes are designed for smart everyday wear. He is also one of the only upcyclers on the Row, using deadstock fabric from high-end brands to create new designs with a richer life story.
Connecting gentle draping to dramatic cuts, Adam Rice’s lessons from his time at Dries Van Noten and Dior menswear working for Kris Van Assche has led to his brand APAR, where he wields contemporary tailoring more like a sculptor than a pattern-cutter. The result is a wardrobe that is neither typically masculine nor feminine, but utilises the trappings of both to create a sleek and powerful alternative.
Artist Steven Warwick’s pale-pink, pleasingly grainy-covered book Notes on Evil (Floating Opera Press, 2022) was born from Warwick’s continual artistic enquiry into the subject. The book touches on the Lincoln Imp, The Shining, electro project Dopplereffekt, the abuse of identity politics, and above all evil’s often deployment as a distracting device – look over there! – that weakens one’s understanding of oneself as a “political subject embedded within a larger sociability”. Less histrionic moral surveillance; the world might only become better when we give one another a bit of a break.