Lorde and Martine Syms on the beauty of imperfection, the power of art, and living on the edge. A fresh take on self-expression and authenticity.
In a world where Instagram filters smooth out every wrinkle and TikTok trends tell us who we’re supposed to be, Lorde and Martine Syms are dropping a truth bomb: the real magic happens where things get jagged, messy, and gloriously unpolished.
They teamed up for a chat in Document Journal—titled “The magic lives close to the edge: Lorde and artist Martine Syms on the beauty of the self”—and it’s the kind of conversation that feels like a late-night heart-to-heart with your smartest, coolest friends.
These two aren’t here to preach perfection; they’re here to celebrate the chaos and remind us why art still matters.
Lorde—aka Ella Yelich-O’Connor—is the Kiwi pop genius who turned suburban boredom into gold with Pure Heroine back in 2013. She gave us “Royals,” a song that made every kid in a cul-de-sac feel like a quiet rebel, and then kept evolving—through the heartbreak bangers of Melodrama to the sun-soaked vibes of Solar Power.
She’s 28 now, still wrestling with fame’s weird glare, and her music feels like a diary we’re all invited to read. Then there’s Martine Syms, the LA-based multimedia artist who’s less household name, more hidden gem—unless you’re the type who haunts galleries or geeks out over critical theory.
Her work spans videos, performances, and installations that poke at identity, race, and tech with a sly grin and a sharp edge. Together, they’re an unexpected tag team, vibing over what it means to be yourself when the world won’t stop watching.
Picture this: Lorde and Syms, caught mid-thought in Document Journal, trading stories about life under the microscope. Lorde kicks it off with a confession that hits like a lyric we’ve all hummed: “For me, music has always been a way to process my experiences, to make sense of the chaos,” she says. “But it’s also a way to connect with others, to show them that they’re not alone in their struggles.” It’s classic Lorde—raw, real, the kind of thing you can imagine her scribbling down after a long night.
Syms jumps in, bringing her artist’s swagger. “Art is a powerful tool for disruption,” she says, cool and collected. “It allows us to question the status quo, to imagine new possibilities. And in doing so, we can start to dismantle the systems that oppress us.” It’s big-picture stuff, but she makes it feel urgent, like she’s daring you to pick up a paintbrush or a protest sign and join her.
The convo digs into the pressure cooker of social media—how it demands a polished, perfect “you” 24/7. Lorde’s over it: “I think there’s a lot of pressure to present a perfect image, especially in the age of social media. But I’ve learned that it’s okay to be messy, to be imperfect.
That’s where the real growth happens.” If you’ve ever danced to “Green Light” while ugly-crying, you get it—her fans, now stumbling through their own 20s, are probably fist-bumping the air. Syms doubles down: “Exactly. And in my work, I try to embrace that messiness, to show that identity is not fixed, but constantly evolving.
It’s about embracing the contradictions and complexities of being human.” She’s the friend who makes you rethink everything over a single cup of coffee.
The title—“The magic lives close to the edge”—is the thread tying it all together. For Lorde, that edge is where she ditches the pop-star playbook and gets raw, like those Melodrama tracks that still feel like a punch to the gut.
For Syms, it’s about pushing past what’s comfy or expected, crafting art that’s as unsettling as it is eye-opening. They’re both saying the same thing: the safe middle is boring. The good stuff—growth, truth, creativity—lives out where the drop-off looms, where you might crash but could soar instead.
In a world obsessed with curating the perfect grid, Lorde and Martine Syms are chucking the manual and running free. This Document Journal sit-down isn’t just two cool people chatting—it’s a lifeline for anyone who’s ever felt suffocated by the need to perform “self” like it’s a gig with no days off.
Whether it’s a song that tops the charts or a video piece that fries your brain, they’re proof art can still slice through the static and wake us up. The beauty of the self, they’re telling us, isn’t in the shine—it’s in the guts, the risks, the teetering on the brink. So here’s to the edge-dwellers: may we all stumble into some magic out there.
