Shal at China Heights

When I first met Shal about four years ago, I had heard of his art, music and photography, but I’d never heard much about the person behind it all. Quiet at first, he speaks more through his lens, always carrying two or three cameras on him at any one time.

When we shot our SS22/23 campaign off the rocks in Tamarama, we asked Shal if he would be the muse for the collection. His bold, beautiful canvases are centred around his connection to land and the environment around him. There’s a certain simplicity to his art that, to me, gives even more value to the very specific hues of colour he chooses to paint with. Less is more — which has always been my approach to suiting and design at UMI NORI.

He was hesitant at first, always more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it. But the suiting aspect of things had him intrigued. It’s not every day you see an Indigenous hardcore singer, photographer, tattoo artist and painter hybrid, covered head to toe in tattoos, as the face of a bespoke suiting campaign. But then again, UMI NORI is not your everyday suiting label.

As if he’d always been dressed in tailored garments, Shal fell in love with the intricacies and boldness of our suits. He felt great, looked even better, and since that campaign has built a collection of five or six suits from us. What I think most people don’t realise, sadly, is that suiting doesn’t have to be boring, stiff or flashy. There are many ways to skin a suit, and with Shal he has always leaned into deconstructed fits — pieces with flow and movement, in earthy, rich fabrics — similar to the work he puts out into the world himself.

For his most recent suit, I had a couple of hours free in the middle of the day. It was sunny out and Shal was over at China Heights prepping for the opening of his new show “Between Lands”. I jumped on a Lime bike and thought it’d be nice to capture him in his element — it’s only fair, as he’s always making the trip over to the atelier. Making my way up what feels like the steepest and narrowest staircase in Sydney, it opens up into the gallery. Not a soul in sight. Just Shal’s works hanging and gleaming in the natural light filling the space. They command attention in a subtle way. The sheer size of them is hypnotic, in a sense. I was caught wandering around when I heard the sound of bare feet slapping against the floorboards and turned to see Shal with a grin, excited for the newest addition to his ever-growing collection.

A brown crepe wool, very subtly textured. Made to measure with no padding, no lining and no canvassing. I added big flap patch pockets on the blazer to hold his cameras and film when on the move, and gave him wide, high-waisted, unlined trousers — beautiful to be worn with or without shoes. He also chose some beautiful cotton and linen blend fabrics from our house collection to have shirts made up — soft collars and soft cuffs, with a slight crop so they could be worn tucked in or out.

He was stoked, to say the least, and before I could even get a word in, he was already talking about the colour the next suit should be. It was refreshing to see one of our suits in the wearer’s environment, as opposed to the atelier, and to see a suit being worn so effortlessly and comfortably.

We took about 30 Polaroids of each other throughout the space as he gave me a running commentary on each work and what it meant to him. I always appreciate hearing about the creative process of friends alike — a peek into their mind and how they work. We both came to the same conclusion about our processes. Sometimes there isn’t any rhyme or reason — just a feeling, an emotion, a fleeting moment of inspiration that sparks an idea, which we follow through to the finished product. Organic in its essence, not overthought or over-processed.

If you haven’t had a chance to see his work before, keep an eye out for his next show. They’re only becoming more and more popular, and I don’t see it slowing down any time soon. After a black coffee and a yarn, I told him he’d have to save us a canvas at the next show so we can hang it in the atelier. It’s just the choosing that’s the hard part. And I think that feeling is mutual when he’s got the fabric books in his hand.

Zi x