Perhaps one of the greatest rewards of the modern technological age is the ease with which we can now transcend borders and oceans to connect with the works of artists creating all over the world. A bedroom musician in Siberia can reach the heart of a line cook in the Ozarks, a Peruvian painter can provide spark to a Scandinavian youth, a photographer in the Middle East may take a shot that inspires a revolution halfway around the world, and this is all possible the very day an artist chooses to share their work.
Photo: Sabrina Shen
One artist who has begun to gain well-deserved recognition in the world of electronic music in recent years is Shwamp, musical alias of French-born, Taiwan-based producer and visual artist Louis Ossiere. While his roots stem from the psytrance/psydub realm, Shwamp has developed, and continues to build, a metamorphic and anomalous sound that blends an amalgam of styles and influences into something wholly his own.
Thus far in 2025, Shwamp has already released two full-length albums, Leap and Where Truth Lies. He also played his first sets in the U.S. this past year, performing at Astronox and opening for Tipper with a prime slot at Snowta in Minneapolis.
River Beats was thrilled to speak with Ossiere between the release of his two recent albums. Read on below to hear this visionary producer expound on his experiences playing in the U.S., his creative process, the wonders and struggles of expatriate living, and much more.
Gregory Ross: I want to start by saying what a treat it was to catch your set in Minneapolis back in January. I’ve been listening to your music for some years now and was thrilled to finally see your name on two U.S. lineups this past year: Astronox and Snowta. If I’m not mistaken, these were the first events you’ve played in the States? Tell me a bit about your experience.
Louis Ossiere: Astronox was indeed my debut performance in the U.S. When Nick Sumbles invited me to play there, I was stoked. Before that, I mostly played at local Taiwanese festivals and clubs, urban raves, so it felt like a big milestone. I felt honored to be a part of it. The label Mindspring Music, with whom I released several albums, is also from Texas (big cheers to them) and I knew that, coming to Astronox, I would meet some of my early day fans.
Photos: Aaron Wharton
GR: That must have been special. I’ve been wanting to attend Astronox the last few years. I hear nothing but great things about production and overall community vibes, and the lineup is always so unique and exciting. It just never seems to work out on my end, unfortunately.
LO: The whole team was super welcoming. I met lovely, authentic friends, people who really appreciate what I do, audiophiles, awesome artists, art enthusiasts. It was almost like finally meeting family members. Besides that, I had big-time eargasms. The sound system was pristine and well-balanced. I don’t have the chance to hear such good PA very often, so that was a real treat.
LO: Despite my love for Taiwan and France, I often feel alienated, swimming against the current. The downtempo and psychedelic bass scene, with all its diversity and eclectic influences, in both countries, are rather under-appreciated, or at least under-represented. It was rewarding and a relief to feel the support of this vibrant community, inspiring, at times almost overwhelming for the senses.
GR: I’m sure.
LO: As a musician, I spend a lot of time isolated in my creative bubble. I ride the wave of depressive mood disorder. Being among native Mandarin speakers most of the time, [I am] confronted with language barriers a lot. The feedback from my listeners is very important to me, to know that people all around the world are receptive and attentive to what I’m trying to express.
Photo: Tim McGuire
GR: Tell me about Snowta. How did that come about?
LO: After Astronox and a wholesome trip to Austin, I came back to Taiwan and received an invitation to play Snowta. That was unexpected, and frankly a little terrifying, but exhilarating and a golden opportunity, to play my set as support for the awesome Dave Tipper in front of a big crowd. Although I was intimidated, I’m so happy I made it there.
LO: The few days before [Snowta], I didn’t sleep much, working like a maniac to finalize some of my tracks for the show and getting ready mentally with the help of my friends who came to support me. It was so surreal to be there, having access to the backstage of that venue and blasting my tracks on those line array Funktion One speakers. The crowd was vibing and I felt comfortable, finally enjoying the fruits of years of hard work. I’m super grateful for that, and even though I struggle quite a bit with self-doubt, I’m proud of that step forward. Music is a huge part of my life, so when all the pieces come together, it gives me hope.
GR: Well, your set was a serious highlight of the weekend for me, as well as a ton of my friends. We were all grateful to be there. The energy on the dance floor was transcendent. How has it been returning to “regular” life after the magnitude of those events?
LO: Coming back from those two trips, I hit a bit of a hard wall. Back to being a broke-ass producer in need of some psychiatric help, after raising the bar so high, is a little harsh, so I’ve taken some time for myself. My partner is also very caring. I have trust that things will go back in motion soon.
LO: But I realized something over the years, being on the move, changing time zones, and living a life without a structure dictated by employment–it’s hard and exhausting. I’m learning to get along with my fears, tame my worries, and keep moving, building trust in my own capacity to enjoy this amazing life.
Photo: Aaron Wharton
GR: Let’s talk about life in Taiwan. I read that you are originally from France. What inspired you to first visit and then settle in Taiwan?
LO: I grew up in Bordeaux, France, [a] quaint little city in the South-West, where I was exposed to various countercultures early on in my teens. Mostly in the reggae/dub scene and punk rock at first, then psytrance a little later. Going to festivals, underground clubs and raves was a real inspiration for me and my friends, and a way to decompress. I had a number of reasons to leave home: curiosity, the desire to discover other countries, and an unfortunate series of events that somewhat made me want to escape.
My first destination was Sydney, Australia. I was 19, then. Two days after I landed, I met a young Taiwanese woman. We have been partners since then. After a few years traveling between Australia, Canada, and Western Europe, we decided to settle in her home country in 2017.
GR: That’s beautiful. I’ve also been with my partner for many years. Her and I have lived a nomadic life for a large part of our relationship, but we made that choice after already being together for some time. I imagine it must’ve been a difficult transition for you two to have met abroad, from vastly different countries and cultures, traveled together for years, and then having to figure out not only how but where to settle down. What were those early days in Taiwan like for you?
LO: The first time I came to Taiwan, I had a culture shock–a pleasant one. I found the island’s history fascinating: the contrasted blend of modernity and tradition, the lush jungles and imposing mountains, the mixture of Chinese, Japanese, Indigenous, American, and Dutch influences that makes this place so unique. Taiwan, in my mind, suddenly went from a “vague idea of a place known for its industrial explosion” to this jewel that I love so very much and consider to be my second home.
Of course, there are pros and cons of living here. Language barrier is a tough one. Although big cities have their fair share of expatriates, I didn’t want to hang out only with foreigners and feel estranged from locals, so I started learning Mandarin as my third language and made connections with local people. As time goes by, I become more and more familiar with the customs, and even though it’s a steep learning curve, it’s also teaching me a lot about myself and gives me perspective on cultural differences and communication.
Original Artwork by Shwamp
GR: What is the music scene like where you are?
LO: My partner and I live in the countryside, on the east coast, facing the Pacific Ocean, where mountains and rice paddies are a common sight. It’s a little hard for me to flourish here as an artist, as electronica, psychedelic music in general, isn’t commonplace here.
The music scene is for the most part commercial and rather mainstream (for the big crowds, at least), but fortunately there is a solid network of passionate audiophiles and a multitude of small events all around the island, where various music genres merge. I have performed inside an abandoned Taoist temple on the cusp of the jungle, or on a mountain top overlooking Taipei City and a sea of clouds.
GR: That sounds incredible. I feel like I can definitely hear the influence of environments like those in your music.
LO: A lot of electronic music genres are represented, but usually for small crowds. Our ability to host events is limited by size and noise complaints. The lack of venues that could host more people and big sound systems makes things a little hard for the party organizers around here, but we try, and in a very Taiwanese way, there’s often a middle ground between ravers and the authorities. Being French, I’m used to more confrontations between ravers and the police.
GR: Let’s talk about Leap, your full-length album which came out in February. I was first introduced to your music between the release of Circus and Fluide, and I’ve deeply enjoyed hearing you grow as a producer. I have to say Leap floored me. I listened to it four times the day it was released. How did this album come into being? What were your biggest influences and inspirations?
LO: Leap marked a milestone for my musical expression. It is in the continuity of my previous releases, but having explored further into the various styles of electronic music, I’ve had a lot of fresh inspiration and ideas of blending genres that I previously thought separate. For example, I’m keen to incorporate psychedelic elements into a drum-and-bass type of beat, while using sound textures and atmospheres inspired by techno and IDM, with sprinkles of dub chords. I now have a broader idea of what electronica has the potential to become, the infinite combination of flavors. I often point out the lack of openness among purists of any genre.
GR: I love that phrasing: the infinite combination of flavors.
LO: My roots stem from reggae/dub and psytrance/psychill (artists such as Kalya Scintilla, Eat Static, Bluetech, Shpongle, or Sensient, who had an enormous imprint on my being), as I mentioned, but the scene’s somewhat limiting mindset made me stray away in search of other sonic experiences.
In the past two years, I’ve been blasted away by the modern take on techno/breakbeat and leftfield (sound wizards like Wordcolour, Kincaid, Delay Grounds, or Yushh) that feels very fresh to my ears, and the growing chill drum-and-bass scene from Russia, trippy and minimalist at the same time (Bop, Electrosoul System, or Subwave, to name a few). Last but not least, the mind-boggling bass and dubstep music that is pumping from North America (Jade Cicada, BoggDogg, Tipper, Flintwick, Smigonaut) [is] fierce and energetic.
GR: I’d love to dive into the visual art part of your life. The album art for Leap is beautiful. Organic. Blossoming. Alive. There’s a shape and transition of light to the piece that makes me feel both small and large at once–kind of like Alice in Wonderland… I understand you typically create your own album art. What brought you to GuaGua Wang’s work? Did you collaborate with her to bring this vision to life?
LO: For this release, I wanted to feature another Taiwanese artist, and I am super impressed with GuaGua’s artwork, which is part of a series of paintings about mushrooms. She most often paints natural landscapes, animals, plants, and fungi in a vibrant and expressive way with details–gentle yet strong flow and coherence in her color palette–inspired by her direct contact with nature in southern Taiwan.
Her art appealed to me for a while. Although I actually never met her face to face, we’ve been living in the same area for a long time. I approached her online and asked if I could use that specific artwork, being a mushroom enthusiast myself. That’s one of the things I thank social media for, to be able to connect with talented artists and have the opportunity to complement each other’s work.
GR: Same. It’s probably the most rewarding aspect of social media.
LO: I’m looking forward to her upcoming pieces, and meeting her in person sometime down the road. It would be fun to observe her process and maybe work together on a painting. Being an artist in a rural area can feel isolating at times, and I’ve been feeling increasingly inadequate or alienated for some time, so I appreciate her being in that environment and maintaining her creativity in a consistent way. I believe patience and resilience will lead me towards more balance and peace, with potential for more growth and interesting collaborations. Artists like GuaGua inspire me in this way.
Original Artwork by Shwamp
GR: I really wanted to talk with you about your own visual art as well. In all your work–drawings, paintings, digital, tattoo designs–there is something tribal, primordial, and atavistic at play, while also tapping into a completely extraterrestrial and visionary component. A bridging of past and future–an amalgamation I also feel while listening to your music. In many ways, when I look at your artwork, I feel like I’m meeting the beings who inhabit and speak the language of your musical world.
LO: Your interpretation is pretty spot on. I do feel very inspired by ancestral cultures, through philosophy, scientific studies about the past, medicines, and so on, yet I’m equally curious about the infinite possibilities that the future holds and potential discoveries, as well as the archetypal Other. It may sound like my ventures into these different timeframes encourage escapism, and it does in a way (I love to escape and travel imaginary lands), but I’m trying to connect past and future with the present by staying in touch with my body, emotions, and surroundings as much as possible.
GR: What does your creative process look like?
LO: I am all over the place. Ideas come faster than what I’m able to produce, so I try things, experiment with new materials, often starting with a single brush stroke or sound, and slowly weave something around it. I start new projects and leave them aside, often for a long while; a few may never see the light of day, some feel more worthy of my attention, so I keep coming back and adding pieces to the puzzles until I reach a satisfying result, or closure. But I try to not linger on perfection. That’s probably the most challenging thing, big time. The expectation of me doing great things from my peers and authority figures has always weighed on me. I [have] learned to say “Screw it! I’m just gonna do me, whether you like it or not,” and boy does that feel great.
Photo: Tim Zhong
GR: Do you find your practice as an artist and musician, then, while sometimes causing some of those feelings you mentioned of alienation and self-doubt, also provide you a sense of relief and liberation from those feelings?
LO: Creating is a bit of a double-edged sword; it is a way to channel all these thoughts & feelings into something substantial, something I can share with others, and that also serves a therapeutic purpose, but the egocentric forces at play do make me overly self-conscious, especially when being in the spotlight, which is what I’m trying to emancipate from. The self-doubts are strong, but by exposing myself I constantly poke at this uncomfortable feeling, gently reminding myself that the dangers of my past, the fearful thoughts, so deeply imprinted in my neural pathways, don’t serve me any longer.
By doing this, I put faith in the ancient wisdoms, coming from various parts of the world, but all pointing in the same direction. In order to heal, I need to face the discomforts with courage, compassion and trust, intuitively moving towards, through and beyond them, breathing in and out, letting the knots dissipate, accepting pain as a natural and inevitable part of life.
GR: Do you find traveling to events like Astronox, Snowta, and your recent trip to Wonky Forest, helps you regain a sense of confidence in your work and a connection to community?
LO: Community is very important on this journey, because we’re all in the same boat no matter how individual we all may feel, exacerbated by the competitive nature of society, the ever-increasing loneliness and pressure. Mirroring each other is a necessity for humans to remain united. The joy of togetherness as well as the emotional triggers.
LO: About my work, I’m neither really satisfied or feeling terrible about my own artistic expression. I oscillate somewhere in between. The alienation is also a choice, somehow. I could have stayed in my hometown, chosen a steady lifestyle, and welcomed the ordinary. But I decided to leave home young, go on this journey, become the stranger, embrace the uncertainty. This has to be an intuitive choice, and the more [that] unfolds, the more I’m convinced that past, present and future are inextricably linked.
GR: I couldn’t agree more.
Original Artwork by Shwamp
LO: Here’s an anecdote that illustrates it: I remember that day of high school when I decided to rebel against my history teacher for being overly caricatural and simplistic, or worse– misinformed. I wrote a sarcastic poem, instead of doing my essay, and left in an outburst of anger, never to return until my graduation. Oddly enough, that essay was about “the four dragons of Asia”–Taiwan is one of them.
I knew nothing about Taiwan back then; I just had a feeling that she had no clue what she was talking about. Years later, I ended up moving to the island of Formosa (another name for Taiwan, given by the Portuguese settlers in 1542), all by a fateful series of events. This kind of self-fulfilling prophecy does challenge my logical thinking and soothes my fear of the unknown. Everything happens for a reason.
Catch Shwamp live this summer at international festivals like Ethereal Decibel, Psy-Fi, and Ozora, and make sure to dive into his most recent full-length releases Leap and Where truth lies on your favorite streaming service today.
Be prepared: if you’re new to Shwamp’s sonic shenanigans, this might lead you down a rabbit hole you never want to leave.
Perhaps one of the greatest rewards of the modern technological age is the ease with which we can now transcend borders and oceans to connect with the works of artists creating all over the world. A bedroom musician in Siberia can reach the heart of a line cook in the Ozarks, a Peruvian painter can provide spark to a Scandinavian youth, a photographer in the Middle East may take a shot that inspires a revolution halfway around the world, and this is all possible the very day an artist chooses to share their work.
One artist who has begun to gain well-deserved recognition in the world of electronic music in recent years is Shwamp, musical alias of French-born, Taiwan-based producer and visual artist Louis Ossiere. While his roots stem from the psytrance/psydub realm, Shwamp has developed, and continues to build, a metamorphic and anomalous sound that blends an amalgam of styles and influences into something wholly his own.
Thus far in 2025, Shwamp has already released two full-length albums, Leap and Where Truth Lies. He also played his first sets in the U.S. this past year, performing at Astronox and opening for Tipper with a prime slot at Snowta in Minneapolis.
River Beats was thrilled to speak with Ossiere between the release of his two recent albums. Read on below to hear this visionary producer expound on his experiences playing in the U.S., his creative process, the wonders and struggles of expatriate living, and much more.
Gregory Ross: I want to start by saying what a treat it was to catch your set in Minneapolis back in January. I’ve been listening to your music for some years now and was thrilled to finally see your name on two U.S. lineups this past year: Astronox and Snowta. If I’m not mistaken, these were the first events you’ve played in the States? Tell me a bit about your experience.
Louis Ossiere: Astronox was indeed my debut performance in the U.S. When Nick Sumbles invited me to play there, I was stoked. Before that, I mostly played at local Taiwanese festivals and clubs, urban raves, so it felt like a big milestone. I felt honored to be a part of it. The label Mindspring Music, with whom I released several albums, is also from Texas (big cheers to them) and I knew that, coming to Astronox, I would meet some of my early day fans.
GR: That must have been special. I’ve been wanting to attend Astronox the last few years. I hear nothing but great things about production and overall community vibes, and the lineup is always so unique and exciting. It just never seems to work out on my end, unfortunately.
LO: The whole team was super welcoming. I met lovely, authentic friends, people who really appreciate what I do, audiophiles, awesome artists, art enthusiasts. It was almost like finally meeting family members. Besides that, I had big-time eargasms. The sound system was pristine and well-balanced. I don’t have the chance to hear such good PA very often, so that was a real treat.
LO: Despite my love for Taiwan and France, I often feel alienated, swimming against the current. The downtempo and psychedelic bass scene, with all its diversity and eclectic influences, in both countries, are rather under-appreciated, or at least under-represented. It was rewarding and a relief to feel the support of this vibrant community, inspiring, at times almost overwhelming for the senses.
GR: I’m sure.
LO: As a musician, I spend a lot of time isolated in my creative bubble. I ride the wave of depressive mood disorder. Being among native Mandarin speakers most of the time, [I am] confronted with language barriers a lot. The feedback from my listeners is very important to me, to know that people all around the world are receptive and attentive to what I’m trying to express.
GR: Tell me about Snowta. How did that come about?
LO: After Astronox and a wholesome trip to Austin, I came back to Taiwan and received an invitation to play Snowta. That was unexpected, and frankly a little terrifying, but exhilarating and a golden opportunity, to play my set as support for the awesome Dave Tipper in front of a big crowd. Although I was intimidated, I’m so happy I made it there.
LO: The few days before [Snowta], I didn’t sleep much, working like a maniac to finalize some of my tracks for the show and getting ready mentally with the help of my friends who came to support me. It was so surreal to be there, having access to the backstage of that venue and blasting my tracks on those line array Funktion One speakers. The crowd was vibing and I felt comfortable, finally enjoying the fruits of years of hard work. I’m super grateful for that, and even though I struggle quite a bit with self-doubt, I’m proud of that step forward. Music is a huge part of my life, so when all the pieces come together, it gives me hope.
GR: Well, your set was a serious highlight of the weekend for me, as well as a ton of my friends. We were all grateful to be there. The energy on the dance floor was transcendent. How has it been returning to “regular” life after the magnitude of those events?
LO: Coming back from those two trips, I hit a bit of a hard wall. Back to being a broke-ass producer in need of some psychiatric help, after raising the bar so high, is a little harsh, so I’ve taken some time for myself. My partner is also very caring. I have trust that things will go back in motion soon.
LO: But I realized something over the years, being on the move, changing time zones, and living a life without a structure dictated by employment–it’s hard and exhausting. I’m learning to get along with my fears, tame my worries, and keep moving, building trust in my own capacity to enjoy this amazing life.
GR: Let’s talk about life in Taiwan. I read that you are originally from France. What inspired you to first visit and then settle in Taiwan?
LO: I grew up in Bordeaux, France, [a] quaint little city in the South-West, where I was exposed to various countercultures early on in my teens. Mostly in the reggae/dub scene and punk rock at first, then psytrance a little later. Going to festivals, underground clubs and raves was a real inspiration for me and my friends, and a way to decompress. I had a number of reasons to leave home: curiosity, the desire to discover other countries, and an unfortunate series of events that somewhat made me want to escape.
My first destination was Sydney, Australia. I was 19, then. Two days after I landed, I met a young Taiwanese woman. We have been partners since then. After a few years traveling between Australia, Canada, and Western Europe, we decided to settle in her home country in 2017.
GR: That’s beautiful. I’ve also been with my partner for many years. Her and I have lived a nomadic life for a large part of our relationship, but we made that choice after already being together for some time. I imagine it must’ve been a difficult transition for you two to have met abroad, from vastly different countries and cultures, traveled together for years, and then having to figure out not only how but where to settle down. What were those early days in Taiwan like for you?
LO: The first time I came to Taiwan, I had a culture shock–a pleasant one. I found the island’s history fascinating: the contrasted blend of modernity and tradition, the lush jungles and imposing mountains, the mixture of Chinese, Japanese, Indigenous, American, and Dutch influences that makes this place so unique. Taiwan, in my mind, suddenly went from a “vague idea of a place known for its industrial explosion” to this jewel that I love so very much and consider to be my second home.
Of course, there are pros and cons of living here. Language barrier is a tough one. Although big cities have their fair share of expatriates, I didn’t want to hang out only with foreigners and feel estranged from locals, so I started learning Mandarin as my third language and made connections with local people. As time goes by, I become more and more familiar with the customs, and even though it’s a steep learning curve, it’s also teaching me a lot about myself and gives me perspective on cultural differences and communication.
GR: What is the music scene like where you are?
LO: My partner and I live in the countryside, on the east coast, facing the Pacific Ocean, where mountains and rice paddies are a common sight. It’s a little hard for me to flourish here as an artist, as electronica, psychedelic music in general, isn’t commonplace here.
The music scene is for the most part commercial and rather mainstream (for the big crowds, at least), but fortunately there is a solid network of passionate audiophiles and a multitude of small events all around the island, where various music genres merge. I have performed inside an abandoned Taoist temple on the cusp of the jungle, or on a mountain top overlooking Taipei City and a sea of clouds.
GR: That sounds incredible. I feel like I can definitely hear the influence of environments like those in your music.
LO: A lot of electronic music genres are represented, but usually for small crowds. Our ability to host events is limited by size and noise complaints. The lack of venues that could host more people and big sound systems makes things a little hard for the party organizers around here, but we try, and in a very Taiwanese way, there’s often a middle ground between ravers and the authorities. Being French, I’m used to more confrontations between ravers and the police.
GR: Let’s talk about Leap, your full-length album which came out in February. I was first introduced to your music between the release of Circus and Fluide, and I’ve deeply enjoyed hearing you grow as a producer. I have to say Leap floored me. I listened to it four times the day it was released. How did this album come into being? What were your biggest influences and inspirations?
LO: Leap marked a milestone for my musical expression. It is in the continuity of my previous releases, but having explored further into the various styles of electronic music, I’ve had a lot of fresh inspiration and ideas of blending genres that I previously thought separate. For example, I’m keen to incorporate psychedelic elements into a drum-and-bass type of beat, while using sound textures and atmospheres inspired by techno and IDM, with sprinkles of dub chords. I now have a broader idea of what electronica has the potential to become, the infinite combination of flavors. I often point out the lack of openness among purists of any genre.
GR: I love that phrasing: the infinite combination of flavors.
LO: My roots stem from reggae/dub and psytrance/psychill (artists such as Kalya Scintilla, Eat Static, Bluetech, Shpongle, or Sensient, who had an enormous imprint on my being), as I mentioned, but the scene’s somewhat limiting mindset made me stray away in search of other sonic experiences.
In the past two years, I’ve been blasted away by the modern take on techno/breakbeat and leftfield (sound wizards like Wordcolour, Kincaid, Delay Grounds, or Yushh) that feels very fresh to my ears, and the growing chill drum-and-bass scene from Russia, trippy and minimalist at the same time (Bop, Electrosoul System, or Subwave, to name a few). Last but not least, the mind-boggling bass and dubstep music that is pumping from North America (Jade Cicada, BoggDogg, Tipper, Flintwick, Smigonaut) [is] fierce and energetic.
GR: I’d love to dive into the visual art part of your life. The album art for Leap is beautiful. Organic. Blossoming. Alive. There’s a shape and transition of light to the piece that makes me feel both small and large at once–kind of like Alice in Wonderland… I understand you typically create your own album art. What brought you to GuaGua Wang’s work? Did you collaborate with her to bring this vision to life?
LO: For this release, I wanted to feature another Taiwanese artist, and I am super impressed with GuaGua’s artwork, which is part of a series of paintings about mushrooms. She most often paints natural landscapes, animals, plants, and fungi in a vibrant and expressive way with details–gentle yet strong flow and coherence in her color palette–inspired by her direct contact with nature in southern Taiwan.
Her art appealed to me for a while. Although I actually never met her face to face, we’ve been living in the same area for a long time. I approached her online and asked if I could use that specific artwork, being a mushroom enthusiast myself. That’s one of the things I thank social media for, to be able to connect with talented artists and have the opportunity to complement each other’s work.
GR: Same. It’s probably the most rewarding aspect of social media.
LO: I’m looking forward to her upcoming pieces, and meeting her in person sometime down the road. It would be fun to observe her process and maybe work together on a painting. Being an artist in a rural area can feel isolating at times, and I’ve been feeling increasingly inadequate or alienated for some time, so I appreciate her being in that environment and maintaining her creativity in a consistent way. I believe patience and resilience will lead me towards more balance and peace, with potential for more growth and interesting collaborations. Artists like GuaGua inspire me in this way.
GR: I really wanted to talk with you about your own visual art as well. In all your work–drawings, paintings, digital, tattoo designs–there is something tribal, primordial, and atavistic at play, while also tapping into a completely extraterrestrial and visionary component. A bridging of past and future–an amalgamation I also feel while listening to your music. In many ways, when I look at your artwork, I feel like I’m meeting the beings who inhabit and speak the language of your musical world.
LO: Your interpretation is pretty spot on. I do feel very inspired by ancestral cultures, through philosophy, scientific studies about the past, medicines, and so on, yet I’m equally curious about the infinite possibilities that the future holds and potential discoveries, as well as the archetypal Other. It may sound like my ventures into these different timeframes encourage escapism, and it does in a way (I love to escape and travel imaginary lands), but I’m trying to connect past and future with the present by staying in touch with my body, emotions, and surroundings as much as possible.
GR: What does your creative process look like?
LO: I am all over the place. Ideas come faster than what I’m able to produce, so I try things, experiment with new materials, often starting with a single brush stroke or sound, and slowly weave something around it. I start new projects and leave them aside, often for a long while; a few may never see the light of day, some feel more worthy of my attention, so I keep coming back and adding pieces to the puzzles until I reach a satisfying result, or closure. But I try to not linger on perfection. That’s probably the most challenging thing, big time. The expectation of me doing great things from my peers and authority figures has always weighed on me. I [have] learned to say “Screw it! I’m just gonna do me, whether you like it or not,” and boy does that feel great.
GR: Do you find your practice as an artist and musician, then, while sometimes causing some of those feelings you mentioned of alienation and self-doubt, also provide you a sense of relief and liberation from those feelings?
LO: Creating is a bit of a double-edged sword; it is a way to channel all these thoughts & feelings into something substantial, something I can share with others, and that also serves a therapeutic purpose, but the egocentric forces at play do make me overly self-conscious, especially when being in the spotlight, which is what I’m trying to emancipate from. The self-doubts are strong, but by exposing myself I constantly poke at this uncomfortable feeling, gently reminding myself that the dangers of my past, the fearful thoughts, so deeply imprinted in my neural pathways, don’t serve me any longer.
By doing this, I put faith in the ancient wisdoms, coming from various parts of the world, but all pointing in the same direction. In order to heal, I need to face the discomforts with courage, compassion and trust, intuitively moving towards, through and beyond them, breathing in and out, letting the knots dissipate, accepting pain as a natural and inevitable part of life.
GR: Do you find traveling to events like Astronox, Snowta, and your recent trip to Wonky Forest, helps you regain a sense of confidence in your work and a connection to community?
LO: Community is very important on this journey, because we’re all in the same boat no matter how individual we all may feel, exacerbated by the competitive nature of society, the ever-increasing loneliness and pressure. Mirroring each other is a necessity for humans to remain united. The joy of togetherness as well as the emotional triggers.
LO: About my work, I’m neither really satisfied or feeling terrible about my own artistic expression. I oscillate somewhere in between. The alienation is also a choice, somehow. I could have stayed in my hometown, chosen a steady lifestyle, and welcomed the ordinary. But I decided to leave home young, go on this journey, become the stranger, embrace the uncertainty. This has to be an intuitive choice, and the more [that] unfolds, the more I’m convinced that past, present and future are inextricably linked.
GR: I couldn’t agree more.
LO: Here’s an anecdote that illustrates it: I remember that day of high school when I decided to rebel against my history teacher for being overly caricatural and simplistic, or worse– misinformed. I wrote a sarcastic poem, instead of doing my essay, and left in an outburst of anger, never to return until my graduation. Oddly enough, that essay was about “the four dragons of Asia”–Taiwan is one of them.
I knew nothing about Taiwan back then; I just had a feeling that she had no clue what she was talking about. Years later, I ended up moving to the island of Formosa (another name for Taiwan, given by the Portuguese settlers in 1542), all by a fateful series of events. This kind of self-fulfilling prophecy does challenge my logical thinking and soothes my fear of the unknown. Everything happens for a reason.
Catch Shwamp live this summer at international festivals like Ethereal Decibel, Psy-Fi, and Ozora, and make sure to dive into his most recent full-length releases Leap and Where truth lies on your favorite streaming service today.
Be prepared: if you’re new to Shwamp’s sonic shenanigans, this might lead you down a rabbit hole you never want to leave.
Featured Photograph: Tim McGuire
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