JUXTAPOZ ISSUE 201 / OCTOBER 2017

Issue 201 lands right in that late-2010s groove where Juxtapoz is blending legacy artists with sharp, contemporary voices, giving the whole magazine a time-capsule quality. It opens with Nat Meade in Studio Time, his soft, blocky, slightly haunted portraits balancing humor with melancholy—the “juggling act” the title promises. From there, the magazine shifts into pure outlaw energy as Robert Williams heads to Mesa, Arizona, a road-trip report soaked in desert weirdness and Williams’ trademark lowbrow bravado.

The front half keeps things playful: product reviews featuring Nathaniel Russell’s gentle absurdism, new Vans, and Jakprints gear; Sergej Vutuc’s blurred, grainy, movement-soaked photography in the Picture Book slot; and a design spotlight on Miriam Klein Stahl, whose radical, cut-paper silhouettes turn political resistance into visual punch. A fashion piece celebrating legendary authors’ personal style adds a fun, literary pop detour, and Lucy Kim’s Influences shows her pulling uncanny textures and molded forms into something that feels both biological and sculpted. Mike Shine brings a rowdy Texas chapter to the Travel Insider, and Jacob Lawrence’s presence in the In Session section grounds the issue with historical weight and art-school relevance.

The big artist features roll out clean and heavy: a rich tribute to Jimi Hendrix, exploring how his visual myth grew alongside the music; Hyuro’s quiet, political murals full of body language and wit; Polly Nor’s empowering, sharp-tongued demon-girl illustrations; and Katrin Fridriks’ hyper-kinetic abstractions, all motion and explosion. Nat Meade returns for a full deep-dive—intimate, offbeat, and atmospheric.

The back of the issue rounds things out the classic Juxtapoz way: exhibition coverage from NYC to Detroit, a Sieben column arguing that “exposure is overrated,” book reviews jumping from Schiele to Olafur Eliasson, and a Pop Life spread charting culture from LA to Raleigh. It closes with Robert Williams delivering a State of the Union—acerbic, surreal, and perfectly Williams.