Pssst, we have a secret to tell you: there’s a bunch of secret people that go to secret locations and watch secret films. Sound intriguing? Secret Cinema emulates the buzz of a flash mob, but is exclusively invite-only, with details of the underground locations kept cleverly quiet until the last minute. The innovative minds behind these pop-up interactive screenings are aiming to change the way people experience film. Specialising in creating living, breathing cinematic events, Future Cinema is known for fusing film and improvised performance with curated design and multimedia to challenge people’s expectations of watching a movie. With its roots in London but growing globally, you can now register online to attend one of these exciting, mysterious silver-screen adventures in your country.

Image via Secret Cinema.

Pamela Crane is just like any other tech-savvy academic, except that she has a dream – one of hope, health and healing for the people of Africa. There are millions of people in sub-Saharan Africa suffering from HIV/AIDS and struggling to find clean water for their families and their communities. But Pam and the passionate, thoughtful people behind Blood:Water Mission have made it their mission to paint a brighter picture for these communities. They’re committed to empowering local communities to work together against the HIV/AIDS and water crises in Africa by raising funds for the provision of clean blood and clean water. In the space of six years they’ve successfully provided water and healthcare to more than 600,000 people across 13 countries. But there are still millions of people in need of aid, so Blood:Water Mission has now expanded its promise to helping communities develop health clinics and sustainable water solutions as well as funding health workers and support groups.

Whether you’re bound to The Bible or not, it’s easy to spend hours gazing upon the beautiful architecture of a church. You could spend an entire day gently running an eye over the intricate carvings of the Gothic Notre-Dame de Paris, with its delicate blackened steeple and Romanesque stained-glass windows, and not see every fine detail. Gijs Van Vaerenbergh, a collaboration between young Belgian architects Pieterjan Gijs and Arnout Van Vaerenbergh, has built a church with this visual experience in mind, transforming the design of a traditional church of Limburg into a piece of public art. Entitled Reading between the Lines, this incredible transparent structure is constructed of 30 tonnes of steel horizontal plates and 200 columns. Positioned amongst the rural landscape of Borgoloon, this majestic piece is part of the Z33 Gallery’s Z-OUT program, bringing art into public space.

Image via Filip DuJardin

Imagine having the time to hunt down and discover a new, locally made delicious product each month that would enhance your recipe repertoire and spice up your go-to foods. Now measure out five of these products and add a pinch of ‘delivered to your desk’, and that’s what The Larder Box is offering the denizens of London. This monthly subscription service handpicks the latest foodie delights from local producers, supporting small business and broadening your palate with creative new flavour combinations and innovative offerings from the gourmet world. From the team behind online farmers market Love Your Larder, The Larder Box encourages discovering new tastes and meals as well as highlighting local fare. We have our fingers crossed that this new UK venture is a great success and expands across borders and oceans, so we can all add a little Womersley’s award-winning blackcurrant vinegar to our lives.

Just like the smile plastered on Philippe Petit’s face in 1974, excitement dances in the bright wide eyes of this modern-day high-wire enthusiast. Self-taught filmmaker Seb Montaz captures the wild adventures of his friends tightrope walking between Parisian skyscrapers and jumping off the Norwegian fjords in his beautiful documentary I Believe I Can Fly (Flight of the Frenchies). Growing up in the French Alps, Seb took his childhood passion for winter sports and mountain climbing to the next level, qualifying as mountain guide and ski instructor. Then finding joy in photographing his clients, he strived to perfect his imagery, learning his incredibly vivid and inspiring filmmaking skills from the internet. The adrenaline rush from successfully traversing a flexible nylon line 1000 m above the ground is immeasurable, and it is this incredible achievement of mental and physical endurance – along with moments of fear, doubt, laughter, failure and strength – that he vividly captures in his documentary. Full of heart and character, I Believe I Can Fly connects audiences with Seb’s passionate circle of highlining and baselining pioneers, communicating how to find the strength to live your dreams.

A new year brings a fresh calendar of commitments and for Lucas Stibbard that calendar is coated in ink. The exciting part is that Lucas, 34, has earned the career indulgence of mostly making theatre he likes with people he likes. Lucas and his four talented comrades – Jonathon Oxlade, Matthew Ryan, Sarah Winter and wife Neridah Waters – are The Escapists, a Brisbane-based performance collective with a reputation nationally for championing a beautiful kaleidoscopic aesthetic. Together they mash genres and media in the pursuit of storytelling that is always fearless and often ridiculous.

As we speak, Lucas is preparing to kickstart rehearsals for The Escapists’ return season of their promenade adventure, Elephant Gun, as part of the World Theatre Festival at Brisbane Powerhouse on February 18–19. The Escapists will also embark on a national four-month tour of boy girl wall in June and spend the year working on a new play, Suburbia, as Metro Arts’ artists in residence. And Lucas is helping co-direct a new comedy variety show, The Funny Boys Project for Toowoomba’s Empire Theatre.

While all five Escapists work independently on various performance projects, the collective enables them to make theatre they believe in. “It’s about creative control and a shared aesthetic and likeness and dream as to what performance and theatre could be.” The common threads that bind their work are “theatricality, imagination and the joy of play”.

Lucas credits his parents, who met while involved in amateur theatre in Sydney in the seventies, for helping him find his feet in theatre. His childhood dream was to be an architect but after school he enrolled in a screen production degree at Queensland College of Art, which, in the end didn’t hold his interest. Fortunately, Lucas’ father had nudged him into community theatre during his teens, which inspired Lucas to audition for USQ’s drama program.

He graduated from USQ in 2000 and scored a role in Queensland Theatre Company’s (QTC) staging of Richard II. Lucas describes the opportunity as “lucky”, but clearly luck has little to do with QTC’s casting decisions. His impressive CV includes a long list of roles with QTC, Bell Shakespeare, Windmill Theatre and Brisbane Powerhouse as well as a mass of independent productions.

In 2007, Lucas decided it was high time he created his own work, beginning with The Attack of the Attacking Attackers. “And since then I’ve spent more time doing our stuff as The Escapists than I have with other people, which has been really lovely.”

Lucas says his greatest challenge is finding balance after a mammoth 2011. He openly describes last year as “immense and terrible and beautiful and horrible,” as boy girl wall went from a little show he’d dreamt up with his group to selling out every night of two seasons at La Boite. “Suddenly everyone in Australian theatre was coming to see this little show. And the pressure of all of that actually broke me in the end,” he says.

Lucas explains exhaustion set in and he was forced to end the season early. The irony was he’d spent his career striving to secure new work yet when new opportunities came knocking his body demanded he stop. “I was just saying yes to everything and trying to keep it going and I think in the end that momentum rolled over me as well,” Lucas observes. “So I’m trying to find the balance between actually living that success and momentum and the joy of that, and not getting to the point where it becomes of detriment to me.”

He always remains motivated despite the troughs because he says of acting: “It’s an addiction … And on top of that there is the thing that unfortunately I’m not sure what else I’m qualified to do.”

Asked what he still wants to achieve with his work, Lucas remarks: “I think the things everyone wants from their work. I want it to be recognised. I want to be appreciated. I want to be happy and have fun doing it. I want to be working with my friends and the people whom I respect and I want that work to be seen by people.” His dream is to run a theatre company as an artistic director.

The words of wisdom he lives by are usually “get on with it,” but he likes a quote by one of his heroes, American writer Michael Chabon. It reads: Every work of art is one half of a secret handshake. “It’s a beautiful quote,” Lucas says. “And a great way of looking at what we do and who we are”.

interview by
Frances Frangenheim

The fact that I’m practically in paradise makes this all the more easy to bear. That I’m also swimming languid laps through the glass-like surface of a pristine infinity pool, surrounded by verdant sweeping views, lessens the discomfort even more so.

My lodgings in this tropical setting are in one of the renovated antique houses of Temple Tree Resort, on the west coast of the island. My particular dwelling, known simply as ‘The Black and White House’, is a stunning Malay House originally built in the 1940s in Negri Sembilan, south of Kuala Lumpur.

I shake off the refreshing chill of my swim and pad barefoot up the front steps of my abode, water dripping between my toes and onto the ageing floorboards. The double doors take a concerted effort to push open, but it’s all part of the charm of this majestic old structure that has welcomed me into its reaches for the next few days.

Beyond the expansive porch is a living and dining area decorated with well-loved and lived-in curios and artefacts. Chromatic stained-glass windows line the facade, ready to be flung open for me to enjoy the evening breeze and glorious tropical downpours from the comfort of the cosy couch. Further inside the dwelling, a four-poster bed draped lavishly in mosquito nets (a requisite of tropical chic) appears to be the centrepiece of the room – until you lay eyes on the glorious wooden bathtub sitting stoutly behind it. Through a pair of wooden doors next to the tub is the actual bathroom, with two rain showers that spill through the floorboards onto a rockpool below the raised house.
And if you feel so inclined, there is an exercise room complete with a treadmill.

Content with my swim, I’ve politely declined the treadmill’s advances and decided instead to set out to explore the island. A rented scooter, my trusted sidekick in this island adventure, is parked just outside my abode. The sun has warmed the seat to a temperature just slightly below unbearable. I fire up the engine and surge into motion; the natural air-conditioning resulting from my relative speed is an instant relief. I am soon zooming along the narrow coastal road and a distinct saltiness seasons the air. The island is just nudging awake and as my explorations take me through small villages dotted with simple houses splashed with vibrant oranges, yellows and pinks, locals are constructing roadside stalls selling coconuts, fresh juice, rotis and other gustatory temptations.

When I return to Temple Tree in the late afternoon, the sun is on its way down. The pool sparkles seductively in my direction, but I opt for a wander through the grounds of the resort and its sister property, Bon Ton. Roosting side by side, the two locales provide recondite respite from the tourist-weary strip of the nearby Pantai Cenang. With only eight heritage villas at Temple Tree and eight thatched-roof chalets at Bon Ton, the fortunate guests of these establishments have all the seclusion they could wish for.

But what is most curious about these dwellings are their permanent occupants – as I wander about the property, I have the distinct feeling of being watched. I soon catch sight of my voyeurs, perched atop walls, under houses, and snoozing on sunbeds, and I am relieved to see they are of the feline variety. Narelle McMurtrie, owner of Temple Tree and Bon Ton, also runs a private animal shelter next door and uses profits from the resorts to fund its activities.

Upon hearing that guests are happily encouraged to help out with the animals, I’ve volunteered to take one of the dogs for a walk. I wander past a sign warning me of the perils of falling coconuts, and onto the extensive deck of Bon Ton’s restaurant that looks out onto the lagoon. Beside the deck, the dogs hear me coming and appear from all directions to greet me. It’s tempting to try to take all of them for a walk, but after being warned of their strength, I end up taking the leash of a golden-haired bitser named Shane (affectionately referred to as ‘the lazy one’). As we mosey off down the dirt road, the rhythmic crunch of our footsteps on the gravel is soon interrupted by a passionate wailing. We pause, transfixed by a Muslim call to prayer echoing across the landscape, and revel in the majesty of a glorious sunset.

Visit www.mrandmrssmith.com for further information or contact the Mr & Mrs Smith travel team on 1300 89 66 27.

text & photography by
Mikki Brammer

Her mind began to wander through career alternatives. Then, one night during a fortuitous session surfing the internet, she stumbled across the concept of the letterpress. “It was years ago, before letterpress had become popular – I didn’t even know what it was,” Alischa recalls. “Instantly I was just in awe of it, because graphic design originally comes from letterpress printing. It’s like what we do as designers but taking it back a century.”

The more she researched letterpress, the more she fell in love with it. At the same time, the more she worked in her corporate job, the more she felt increasingly burnt out and creatively stifled. As if compelled by the hand of fate, she began to keep her eye out for an old printing press she could acquire, talking to people from old museums and printing presses to see if they could help. But it was to no avail – most had been condemned to become scrap metal years ago.

Things finally began to fall into place after three years of searching, when Alischa got a call from a gentleman in Canberra who had heard of her quest to find an old letterpress. “He had an old 1893 letterpress sitting in his shed,” Alischa says, reliving her glee. “It had just been sitting there for about 20 years, going rusty. So we went down there with an old ute and picked it up – it was about 800 kg – and took it back to Sydney.”

But while she now had the press she had been seeking so dearly, she realised that she had no idea what to do with it. “It was so daunting,” Alischa laughs. “How do you make this thing that’s 120 years old actually work?” In 2007, around that same time, Alischa’s husband Hayden, a pilot for Virgin, received word that he was being transferred to Brisbane. Alischa seized the opportunity to start a new chapter in her life.

The couple found a house just a few blocks away from the beach at Scarborough and set about renovating it into their new abode. The letterpress sat quietly downstairs, continuing the solitude it had been keeping for the past two decades. Meanwhile, Alischa started teaching graphic design full time at Shillington College and continued for the next 12 months while she delved deeper into her research into letterpress printing.

By a stroke of fate, she encountered an old letterpress printer nearing his eighties, named Bob. “He was so excited that I wanted to learn about printing,” she reflects fondly. “He had all this knowledge, but he was going to die without anyone to pass it on to.”

Bob gladly took Alischa under his wing as a quasi-apprentice, passing on to her all that he knew about the art of letterpress. “I’d go and help him two days a week and on the weekend, and he would teach me little bits and pieces,” she says. “It was almost as if I was going through the apprenticeship that he had almost 60 years earlier. He taught me everything he knew over the course of a couple of years.”

Alischa soon reduced her teaching to part-time and leaped into her new career, beginning mostly with wedding invitations and then branching out into stationery, cards and other paperie. In late 2008, she came across another letterpress to add to her mechanical menagerie – a 1973 Heidelberg T Platen, which she affectionately named ‘Herbie’ (joining her original press, ‘Charlie’) – which she purchased from an old printer in Ipswich. The two ‘boys’ were then joined in 2011 by ‘Helga’, a 1972 Heidelberg T Platen, to complete the letterpress family. Charlie, powered by foot treadle, usually takes care of smaller print runs, while the more sprightly Herbie and Helga are in charge
of the larger printing tasks.

In addition to the three letterpresses, Alischa also calls upon the assistance of her studio manager, Ruby Tuesday – a Nova Scotia duck-tolling retriever with a lustrous copper coat and angelic eyes – whose primary responsibility is greeting couriers. Several part-time assistants and Alischa’s husband Hayden also lend a hand to ensure the home-based business runs efficiently.

Asked where her love for such large, lumbering machines comes from, Alischa admits to a childhood fascination with her father’s earth-moving machines and the smell of oil and grease that would emanate from his workshop. Also citing her mother’s unrequited creative streak as an influence, Alischa reveals that as a child everyone always told her that she would one day become an artist. “But I can’t draw to save myself,” she giggles. “I think I’m more creative than artistic. I used to make hair clips and sell them at school and I soon realised that I could produce things that other people couldn’t be bothered to, or didn’t know how to.”

Reflecting on her career to this point, Alischa admits that being an entrepreneur in charge of her own fate is far more work than the life of a corporate art director – but she wouldn’t change it for a moment. “It’s all-consuming and it’s such a different life,” she says. “I wake up and start work and people come in to help me. But then they all go home and I work all through the night and then go to bed. And then it all starts again the next day and never really stops. I’m always talking about work and it doesn’t disappear, but that’s what makes it work in the end. I absolutely love it and if I had a choice to be sitting watching TV or to be sitting making something, I’d always choose the latter.”

Her greatest challenge, she reveals, is realising that she can’t do everything herself. “It’s a really hard thing to learn,” she says candidly. “When I first started I was pretty much doing everything myself and I couldn’t. I soon realised that, in order to make it successful, I had to let go and let other people help me.”

But the whimsical designs of Bespoke Letterpress, Alischa emphasises, will always come from her own hand. “I just couldn’t let someone else design for me,” she says passionately. “Because that’s the part that I love the most.”

Having just turned 30, what she is most proud of is the fact that she has chased her dream and caught it. “I had to be willing to make no money for the first few years and really just be brave,” she says. “At the time, I don’t think I thought about it too much – I just knew I wanted it and I loved it and believed it could work. If I was going to inject everything I had into it, how could it not work?”

And therein lies Alischa’s wisdom to the world. “Be brave and follow your own path,” she advises. “Believe in yourself – you’ll get a better result by going where you want to go rather than following in someone else’s footsteps.”

interview & photography by
Mikki Brammer

Growing up in Sweden, my childhood dream was … just to get out of there. I always knew I would become an entrepreneur and run my own business, more as a statement of freedom than financial reward. It was always important for me to be able to determine my own destiny.

I couldn’t picture myself … working in an organisation or having a boss, and even today I still find that it’s more important to do things I like rather than always maximising business opportunities or profit. It’s very easy to be all focused on Excel spreadsheets and then you die.

I think everyone struggles to … find that correct balance between business success and personal success. It’s a delicate balance to be able not to neglect either side of it.

Hotels became my passion … a little bit by default. I was investing in real estate in Spain, and Mallorca, being an island, was the only area I could really define. At the time, Palma had gone through some rough times and was about to rebound, so I decided to buy property there.

I was inspired by … the lifestyle of South Beach in Miami and the hotels there and I’d always wanted to have my own brand, but I’d never been in that type of business to be able to do so.

A hotel I’ve always loved is … the Delano in Miami. It’s become a classic because it was done so well. I think it’s really the grand piece of lifestyle hotels.

Having been travelling extensively … in the ten years prior to opening Puro, I’d developed a knowledge of lifestyle hotels. That kind of evolved into me opening up Puro and believing I should make a go of a Miami-style hotel concept in Spain. At the time, only more traditional hotel concepts existed there, so when we opened it was kind of groundbreaking. Since then, Palma has become a great destination and the city has really turned around.

The great thing about Palma is … that it’s a great spot in the Mediterranean. It has developed in a really nice way and is, in a way, becoming the Hawaii of Europe. It’s a great meeting point with a nice offering of restaurants and hotels very close to Western Europe – especially compared to somewhere like the Greek Islands. Palma is only an hour and 20 minutes away from Zurich, two hours from Berlin and London, and so on. It’s very close to everything. It’s also a little bit of a neutral spot in the sense that many European nationalities meet there.

Puro was actually once an old 14th-century palace … that was owned previously by Richard Branson. He bought properties in Mallorca after he sold Virgin, but he didn’t do anything with this particular old building that had been abandoned, more or less, since the 1950s.

It was in terrible shape … and he agreed to sell it. The location was great and I ended up buying several properties in the same area.

As soon as Puro opened … we immediately had a very good crowd – the type of crowd that we really wanted. The people we attract to Puro are well-travelled, usually around 30–55, who are interested in people in general and also curious about lifestyle hotels.

The problem was … we didn’t have a suitable beach to send our guests to, because everything nearby was in a very touristic, plastic chair kind of environment. That’s when we came up with the idea of Purobeach – a lifestyle concept with food, drinks, a lounge, terrace, pool and treatments, in Palma Bay – which we opened a year after the hotel in 2005.

My motorcycle trip … was actually done in stages. I was cruising around West Africa and the Sahara and basically took off and drove around Morocco, Mauritania, Nigeria, Mali and Senegal, but kept the bike there. I would come and go and continue the journey riding around.

The lesson I learned … which is the lesson of all travel, is that the worse your experience gets, the more rewarding the travel will be. You always remember the moments when you are really deep in shit, whether it’s breaking down in the middle of the night in the desert or something else. You always manage those situations and they become the highlights of your travel – in the end you wouldn’t want to be without them.

Travelling by yourself … is also a great way to learn things. You realise in the end that it’s a small world and people are the same – in their core – wherever you are.

I think that in the future … boutique hotels will become more casual and less quirky. At least, I hope so. I feel that the trend will become more focused on comfort than design. I think people are a little bit tired of those properties that, in the end, just become complicated
for the sake of design.

The next place I’m hoping to create something is in … Porto Montenegro in Bay of Kotor to open a Purobeach this summer. It’s a fantastic area and we’re really trying to bring back the era of Sophia Loren and Tito in the 1950s.

I’m inspired by … people who choose their own path in life. People who break out of a preset mould or choose to walk in a different direction and follow their instincts or intuition, whatever what that may be.

When I look at my life today … the greatest challenge I’ve had to overcome has been being able to prioritise my personal life. To choose not to enter into new businesses all the time and finding that balance. It’s very easy to get stuck in the business side of things all the time because you’re very enthusiastic about it, but then you forget yourself in the middle of it.

That said … finding that balance is also what I would say is my greatest achievement.

I find peace in life … being in Switzerland, where I live – that’s kind of my mountain hideout. I live in Verbier, which is a really nice ski area close to the Italian-French border. There’s a lot of snow here at the moment and so it’s really nice. I spend most of the winter in Verbier.

If I had one piece of wisdom to give to the world … I would go for somewhat of a cliche but I still like it: Follow your intuition and choose your own path.

interview by
Mikki Brammer

image courtesy of
Design Hotels
www.designhotels.com

Tim Fleming’s Flatland exists as an imaginary world, a utopia of sorts. It gives Tim, 40, the freedom to ponder wacky design solutions and new ways of living. “Flatland is a method for me to explore creative avenues within my control,” he explains of Flatland OK, the design business he launched in 2003. “I’m doing all the things I’m really interested in. I’m interested in making objects and illustration. And I’m really interested in satire, critical consumption and provoking people to think about what they want to do with their lives. That was kind of what I was interested in a few years ago and I guess it’s taken me a few years to distil some of those ideas in a more refined kind of way.”

He populates Flatland with miniature objects he makes and sells in limited edition, such as the OK Hand, the Pine Tree and the Rain and Cloud. Many of the objects have a mirror element to them to prompt their owners to take a long hard look at themselves – in a playful way of course.

Tim also makes characters who live in Flatland, including The Founder, a megalomaniac self-help guru who “puffs on cigars and hatches secret plans”, and Miss Flatland who is “happy and always waving”. His latest product is the Vague Timekeeper, described as “more a ticking object than an actual time piece”.

He has no idea who his customer is but you can bet there are avid collectors who snap up his design objects and create their own imaginary lands on their
desks, bookshelves and bedside tables. The products are sold on Tim’s website and at niche stores Pieces of Eight, Craft Victoria and Safari Living in Melbourne.

Exploring all forms of creativity, he also authors, illustrates and self-publishes comic zines that are set in Flatland. Last year he created a 68-page booklet, entitled Everything You Need, in association with the Ian Potter Museum at the University of Melbourne. Tim describes it as a “mock self-help/design manual and general lampooning guide,” full of peculiar design propositions (like the 100 km/ph mobile hand car wash) that might just work.

After spending six years diligently developing his signature aesthetic and working to miniature scale, Tim has relished the opportunity since 2009 to supersize his products through various commissions and exhibitions. He regards his first large-scale commission as one of his greatest career achievements where he was invited to create his hand mirrors to giant scale for Sydney’s 2009 Saturday in Design exhibition. “That was a fantastic opportunity,” he says. “And it was the beginning of getting some other gigs.”

The following year, Australian lighting company Euroluce approached Tim to design a major art piece for its Sydney showroom. “It was a dream gig,” Tim says. “They had spoken to architects and didn’t have any ideas they were attracted to so they asked me to come up with an idea – I came up with a booklet of ideas.” Euroluce chose his ‘The Walk’ proposal, a freestanding escalator on wheels built out of steel and timber that reaches 4 m high and 12 m long and leads to nowhere.

Tim finds the experience of working with corporates satisfying yet also one of his greatest challenges. “I was suddenly dealing with managing directors of large companies and that sort of stuff was a shift in my career. I was working by myself in my little studio and then I was getting flown around and getting paid quite well and it was a really different kind of thing I had to adjust to.” He admits he is still learning the art of negotiating but is becoming more confident as he realises that, as an artist with a unique aesthetic, he has the power to work on his own terms.

He started his design venture in 2003 after graduating with a degree in photography and honours in sculpture from RMIT University, and a degree in fine arts from Monash University. He was inspired to launch his own venture because he craved creative control but also because he didn’t think any design studio would hire him. “I didn’t have that skill set,” he admits. “I came from an arts background. I don’t think I was even savvy with computers when I started.”

He can’t remember his childhood dream but recalls an early event that symbolises his approach to the world. “I remember when I was in Grade 3 taking a pencil sharpener from the class out into the playground and sharpening twigs. I kind of liked the idea of shifting the usage of things.”

Tim also recalls being acutely aware from a young age that he would have to face the consequences of his actions. “It’s like, say if I became an accountant, I would have to go into an office. And that wasn’t going to cut it for me … I really wanted to do something I found engaging.”

Asked why he cares about what he does, Tim explains he wants to be his best. “It makes a difference to me when other people do things well. I appreciate it. And I want to apply that to my life, to be as good as I can be. That’s good for everyone.” Many in the design industry appreciate his brilliance, with his work curated in various exhibitions including last year’s Mis-design exhibition at the Ian Potter Museum of Art and numerous Saturday in Design events, as well as the 2011 Ketel One Commission project and exhibition where Tim scooped first prize.

While Tim admits he often considers giving in when times are tough, he says quitting isn’t an option. “You get to a point where there’s nothing else that you could do,” Tim says as the reason he remains motivated. “It’s too late. To be honest, you have to believe in yourself. I really believe in it. I think if you have that motivation, you know you’re just not going to fail. I just wouldn’t let it happen.”

The future is looking bright because there is still much Tim wants to achieve with Flatland. “I’m starting to animate some of the characters and look into writing dialogue and scripts for the characters and developing them a lot more.” His dream is to make a box set of his zines.

Asked if he considers himself a success, Tim proffers a cautious “Yes,” explaining that his personal measure is all about contentment. “I was walking down the street the other day and I was thinking: ‘I’m really happy within myself. And I love what I do. And I’m very content.’ … Having said that, a couple of weeks ago it might have been a different story. That’s kind of part of life – the peaks and troughs. But it’s really important to recognise when things are going well.”

interview by
Frances Frangenheim

Image via Invisible Children.