IN CONVERSATION WITH RASMUS MYRUP

The PHIPPS Fall Winter 2020 collection is a celebration of forest culture, from the four legged creatures who call it home, to the park rangers who preserve it, and the folklore it inspires. PHIPPS has imagined a wardrobe for these eclectic characters, associating familiar shapes with less familiar materials; alternating rugged sartorial codes with Gothic romanticism.


Who better to accessorize these archetypes than Danish artist Rasmus Myrup, whose practice mirrors PHIPPS’ commitment to the natural world?
Rasmus’ work is informed by nature and our place within it, exploring both human nature and nature itself. His multidisciplinary portfolio includes drawings, installations, sculpture, as well as independent curatorial work. Through these different methods and materials, he depicts an extensive investigation of Human existence.
Having just recently returned from Zurich for the opening of his latest duo show with American artist Marlene McCarty, “Can I Borrow Your Hole” (Last Tango Gallery, until November 14), we caught up with Rasmus (in true Covidian spirit: over the phone) to look back at the first stages of the collaboration.


Though Rasmus calls Copehnagen home, he was a nomad, moving every two months before lockdown anchored him, and many of us, in one place. When he made the pieces for the collection, he was based in Vilnius, Lithuania, working as an artist in residence at Rupert. The lush, green, landscape of Lithuania was the perfect setting for the inception of his hand-crafted objects, providing abundant materials for the carved jewels and woven tools which would adorn the models in the show.
Spencer’s invitation to collaborate came as naturally as the subject material they both draw their inspiration from: it was not research, but rather a mutual friend who brought them together:
“The cutest way to say it is that [Spencer] taught me how to climb.”
Though this was Rasmus’ first time working in fashion, in the end, he considered the process virtually identical to his own, with only the venue- a runway rather than a gallery or museum space- differing.
After only a brief exchange, Spencer gave him carte blanche to design the accessories for FW20.


As sustainability is primordial at PHIPPS, all of the elements used to make the pieces were sourced locally in Vilnius, or from materials the artist already owned.
Rasmus gathered the reeds from the nearby Neris river to make the baskets, first drying them, then twisting them into shape. He describes this process as perhaps surprisingly intuitive- a straightforward task of patience, trial, and error.
He selected the walking sticks among branches strewn across the forest floor; using a knife to carve the PHIPPS star logo into their bark, and in some cases, bore holes into them in order to sew thick strands of colorful yarn through them.
Spencer’s invitation to collaborate came as naturally as the subject material they both draw their inspiration from: it was not research, but rather a mutual friend who brought them together:
“The cutest way to say it is that [Spencer] taught me how to climb.”
Though this was Rasmus’ first time working in fashion, in the end, he considered the process virtually identical to his own, with only the venue- a runway rather than a gallery or museum space- differing.
After only a brief exchange, Spencer gave him carte blanche to design the accessories for FW20.


As sustainability is primordial at PHIPPS, all of the elements used to make the pieces were sourced locally in Vilnius, or from materials the artist already owned.
Rasmus gathered the reeds from the nearby Neris river to make the baskets, first drying them, then twisting them into shape. He describes this process as perhaps surprisingly intuitive- a straightforward task of patience, trial, and error.
He selected the walking sticks among branches strewn across the forest floor; using a knife to carve the PHIPPS star logo into their bark, and in some cases, bore holes into them in order to sew thick strands of colorful yarn through them.
The bone jewellery which could be seen decorating the models’ bandanas has an appropriately morbid, albeit nostalgic history. As he recalls, a woman who had seen his previous work in bone reached out to gift him a large box of prepared (cleaned) bones. She and her husband had previously worked with bones, though since his passing, she no longer wanted to use them: they were only a painful reminder.


It was especially important for Spencer and Rasmus that the objects produced for the show preserve a rugged quality, almost as though the models had made them themselves. Almost as if, if you had a knife, any of these things could be made in moments. Therein is the spirit of a forest dweller- everything you need is right there- you just need to know how to use it.