© Dana Stirling
“I’ve performed and created characters based on diary entries. Courtney from Wolf’s Canyon originated from being nostalgic for teen horror shows. I wanted to become the opposite what I am now.”
The following are excerpts of a conversation between Laura Parnes and Liz Zito.
Laura Parnes: Courtney is a cliché of the teenage film and you seem to play around a lot with clichés. Is there a parody that goes on when you’re riffing on these popular references to adolescence?
LZ: I still relate to shows that are aimed at teenage girls–taking a closer look at what is presented to them–and it’s definitely a reflection of what has formed the person I am today. But I get frustrated when people think Courtney is an alter ego or has something to do with me. I’ve had a lot of conversations about how similar Courtney and [Nick Aliciati’s] Darlene are, but we have completely different relationships with our characters. People really like Courtney (I don’t like her) and want me to dress up like her and be this thing.
LP: I’m curious how you developed and wrote your projects, specifically Wolf’s Canyon.
LZ: I come up with a basic story line just so it’s not insane [laughs]–wait a second, it is insane–but, a beginning and an ending, so it’s almost followable. And I like working with non-performers, without set lines in the script, who can be lost and not exactly know what’s going on. I don’t really know what’s going on! If someone in the cast or crew has a better idea, I want to do the better idea–the funnier thing–and to allow for interpretation.
LP: However you set up the situation, you’re also in it, so you’re kind of pushing or controlling the direction of the scene in quite a few ways.
LZ: When I’m in the scene it makes people more comfortable but when I’m off camera I’ve had to prompt what is going on. I will feed lines if people don’t like improvising. Even in bad acting I’m surprised when it's a great performance. The performance is authentic in a different way. I feel like every character, at the end of the day, has taken a drug and they don’t remember what happened the day before or previous episode. Everyday is a blank slate. I’ve never asked anyone if working with me in this way is fun; I think it is. People keep coming back.
LP: I really didn't realize it’s mostly improv. The way people perform, they already embodying those different adolescent shows they’ve already seen. It feels like the lines are going through them.
LZ: It helps when their names are directly from the shows. If we’re talking to Mr. Fitz, the teacher from Pretty Little Liars, and it’s your friend Stephan performing, it feels like you’re talking to that television show character. Plus Stephan is a really good actor.
LP: And that mirrors playing out ideas of childhood, of acting out shows and scenarios, which took up quite a bit of time for some of us when we were kids. It seems your process, in terms of refining things, happens much more in the editing room, which is sort of different from when I’ve worked with animation where there’s not a lot of leeway in editing afterward.
LZ: I don’t know if it’s a result of an improvising comedy background, but editing is one of my favorite parts of the process. A joke doesn’t always necessarily work until I edit the piece together. And that’s the exciting thing. I also like the episodic. It leaves people wanting more–I don’t know if I’m going to give it to them–but it allows me to take a break while having material to come back to and re-edit. There’s a great gym scene that has yet to be released.
LP: I’ll waste so much time if I’m shooting extra stuff. For some projects I’ve controlled the script beforehand and pretty settled into what I wanted. But [for funding] I was constantly getting notes and rewriting. Those notes were based on what other people were telling me. So I let go of all of that and decided I could make it on bare bones. By turning it into an animation I could go back to all these crazy things I’d put in before that I didn’t think I could realize in film. It was a really freeing moment for me to give up the process of trying to get the financial backing you need to get for a feature film.
LZ: How do you know when something’s finished, like Tour Without End? Is it every going to end?
LP: It’s never going to end! No, I envision it being six hours. I recently went to Houston and did a show. It happened that one of my characters was in Houston and I shot another scene there at Sean’s Hair Salon. It’s an ongoing process but I’m sure something will tell me “you've got to stop.” I do have a lot of fun shooting it. It’s totally guerilla style. Whatever happens happens. There’s a rush of like me saying [to the actor], “now go in to that hotel and book a room” and “if they say this, don’t respond” and “don’t leave until it’s absolutely necessary.” We have a lot of fun doing that and everyone’s into it. It would be really different if they were like “I'm really uncomfortable” but they’re like “yeah, where can we go next?” We’ll get tired at some point. And since it’s about process, how long can my characters take working on this. I’m sure that will inform part of it but then there will be a deadline of the show where I just have to get it together.
LZ: One of the most exciting things for me is coming up with an idea–when the light bulb goes off. It sounds really dumb to say I don’t like performing, because I do it all the time, but I find it really difficult and exhausting. Sitting in front of the camera and having these rules for myself. I find it satisfying when it’s done and I know I have the right take. It’s like “whew, I don’t have to do that again.” It’s weird, but maybe it’s the high I get after a performance. And knowing that if I get a good take it’s exciting. That’s it; I don't have to do this anymore. Torcher!
Now I’m in the process of writing a film where I’m not in it at all. I’m taking a step back to trust other people to be the characters I’ve developed. I want to have control in a different way, to focus on other things I wasn’t able to when I was the performer. I’m at the point where I’m kind of a little sick of watching myself on the screen. I want to think about other things, like writing the story and developing the characters. Even for Wolf’s Canyon I’m talking to someone else about playing Courtney in the future. With the absurdity of the project I can allow someone else to step in.
“From the time I was little, I would develop characters. Around five years ago my brother and I created Darlene and Mildred, Southern sisters in their forties. Growing up gay in Syracuse was difficult as it is a sports town and all my friends were straight jock bros. It was really hard to find my place so I escaped to my bedroom where I could be whoever I wanted to be, which was often times, a female pop singer. I recently thought about my childhood and from there Darlene transformed into a pop star very much rooted in the fantasy.”
The following are excerpts of a conversation between Laura Parnes and Nick Alciati.
LP: Did I understand correctly, that the interior monolog that went on in your head, as a kid, was a forty-year-old woman?
NA: No, well, it was more like seventy. But about five years ago my brother and I developed these middle-aged women, Darlene and Mildred and they were obsessed with Jesus, Diet Pepsi and Wal-Mart. And Darlene always had auburn hair. So when I began graduate school I bought a wig and started to visualize her. At first I thought I could do makeup to look forty but then I thought why not just be a hot 1990s pop star. For me it was finally about being comfortable.
LP: Do you think your character Darlene exists in 2016?
NA: I’m kind of struggling at times because I’m very much present in 2016 and being comfortable with my own gender but I wanted to bring it back to those moments when I was growing up. The songs I’m referencing in the videos I’m making are from the late 1990s. That’s the time when I was developing as a young person.
LP: You have a very personal relationship to your characters. How important is that to your process?
NA: Over the past two years of developing Darlene, we’ve developed a relationship with each other. Sometimes, as Nick, I’ll even think as Darlene. My project came from a place where I was questioning my gender and sexuality so I felt the best person to play that role was myself. Also the empowerment of wearing a wig and heels is a high. And I’m much more confident being Darlene than being Nick. Since becoming Darlene I think Nick is becoming more comfortable with himself. It’s been a weird journey. At this point I’m kind of sick of Darlene and I think we might be breaking up after school. But it’s been really fun having that control as a performer.
LP: Some performance artists act out specific characters over and over again. Michael Smith’s Baby or Kalup Lindsay with his soap opera personalities. This is the case with Darlene, but once the audience becomes familiar with a specific character they feel like they can embody it too.
NA: I recently brought people into the studio to give me their best Darlene while I was playing 90s pop music. It was fun to see how people posed. Some of the males were really into it. I saw that feeling I get “this is different and fun.” And at other times some people were really freaked out.
LP: Have you performed as other characters besides Darlene?
NA: I bought a blonde wig and became a new character. Nicki’s the badass high school version of Darlene. Darlene’s the angel on my shoulder and Nicki’s the devil.
LP: How do you approach making work? Do you have a preconceived idea and then you set it up in a shoot or are you experimenting while you’re shooting?
NA: A lot is experimenting; I don't write anything out. It starts with songs; trying to recall memories I had at home alone in my room singing in front of a mirror. From there I’d research a certain female star and I think about the clothes and the location. I go through the whole song and lip sync and have someone helping me film. As I’m thinking of the music videos I'm thinking of the aesthetic and how they were originally made. The process ends up being this really repetitive thing until I have an Ashanti song stuck in my head forever.
LP: You just shot something in LA. Is that how you did it?
NA: Yeah. I really love performing on location in public–seeing people around me–and then watching myself on the screen. It’s definitely a little narcissistic. But if I was going to be reflecting back on the music videos of the time then it had to be multiple scenes to have a narrative. Lip-syncing is really difficult when you’re cutting between shots having to go back and redo it multiple times. There’s always a love/hate relationship at every stage of the process.
LP: Your work seems really connected to your own adolescence but also plays off of images and stereotypes of teenage girls as they are represented in popular culture. Your choices seem very specific in terms of what you reveal
NA: When I started visualizing Darlene I imagined her being completely female and as close to these singers as I could get. But growing up very much male–born and raised playing football–there are parts I can’t get rid of. So Darlene went from being this fun humorous pop star to me delving into ideas of gender. Suddenly I found myself wearing mid-drifts and letting my belly hair show. And, I’m not that great in heals. But I let those moments–those slippages–enter because I think it’s important to blur the binary. I think it’s important to tell that aspect of the story. Even as I’ve developed this character, I’ve developed my own gender identity. Darlene has allowed me to be more comfortable with myself.
LP: Do you think she’d ever play football?
NA: That would be fun.
LP: I’m curious about the blending or slippages you describe in relation to gender.
NA: I’m building a bedroom installation [for an exhibition] and I’m blending all those things together, [starting with my early years as a boy obsessed with Barbies, to me trying to blend in by playing football, to Darlene being a fantasy and eventually making her a reality…I’m blending both of us as characters but also as valid identities.] The next video I’m making is going to be Nick and Darlene going back and forth. That was informed through me shooting and realizing I can’t dance that well in heels, I do have traditional male body hair and I don’t tuck away any of my anatomy. I keep all that just there because it’s just me bring into question the constructs of identity and subverting that.
LP: It’s important for people to be aware that it’s not full drag.
NA: I don’t want to be passable as a female. I’m not trying to impersonate the stereotypes fully. I thought that was what I wanted at the beginning because it was fun. It was like I get to play dress-up at 27 and I could never dress up as a female when I was growing up. So it started with the baseline of “it’s fun to wear a wig, do my makeup, wear heals.” Then it moved more into delving into ideas of gender. That’s why I don’t call her a drag queen but an alter ego.
LP: There can be a power in that and an importance to it.
NA: In my experience of “high fishy drag,” as they call it, it’s more like the Hell’s Kitchen queens are lip-syncing to Britney Spears or Kesha or Madonna. They’re trying their best to be really feminine. Verses a lot of my friends in Brooklyn are sort of subverting that and not so much being the archetype of female but exploring more of an identity in a character through their performance.
LP: It’s interesting to hear you speak about an alter ego as opposed to drag.
NA: Traditionally it could be called drag but it’s much more than a performance at a bar or club. And a lot of queens have more than that as their personas.
LP: Well there’s a personal element in this character that distinguishes Darlene from just lip-syncing. Although lip-syncing to Keisha!
NA: There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s fun.
LP: It can be important too.
NA: Absolutely, it’s important. It’s important for drag to allow people to feel empowered, not to just be what they were raised to be. And escapism–having this fantasy world to escape to and seeing people do that. When I became friends with a bunch of queens I thought, “I could do this.” They’d help me with my makeup and it turned me into feeling really empowered.
But Darlene is very rooted in me being myself. To some people Darlene might be vapid. She’s more than that to me. I struggle with getting beyond the humor and these fantasy videos. I want to delve deeper into where she’s rooted.
“Most of my character development comes from people watching, being slightly introverted and sitting back in social situations, and having an acute awareness of what’s going on around me. Characters are built through trying to make sense of people’s actions.”
The following are excerpts of a conversation between Laura Parnes and Forrest Davis.
LP: The protagonist in your feature film defies viewer’s expectations in that he refuses to transform no matter what situation he finds himself in. Was that your intention?
FD: The goal in A Watched Pot was to show a character that’s fairly quiet and unlikeable. I was interested in how we connect with a lead character that is pretty reserved.
LP: In terms of story structure there is a cyclical element to it. It starts in the way that it ends.
FD: It is built around questioning if he has the ability to change or not. In traditional films you see a character go from point A to point B where in real life I don’t think that happens. With him it’s left ambiguous whether he has changed or if he ends right where he begins.
LP: What is your process of writing a script?
FD: I start with a stream of consciousness of writing, but with the understanding that in this scene, I need to cover certain points. Then inevitability I begin walking around and saying the lines to myself. From there I send it to an actor I’m working with. That’s when most of the improvisational work comes in, when we get together and read the lines. Then ask, “What doesn’t sound right?” “How would you say this?”
LP: You workshop it?
FD: Exactly. I’ve always worked with actors to try it the way we’ve rehearsed. But then if there is something else we want to say, or a certain emotion we want, we’ll try another take and see what happens. That’s where things change and come together. There are situations where something is still off and we’ll rewrite it right there. Being open to working with stuff that is staged but also being open to working with improvising to the extent to push so it doesn’t feel like actors are just reading what’s on the page.
LP: It definitely brings out more realistic dialogue, and it becomes a collaborative process, especially if you’re working with a talented actor who can really add something to the character.
I love improvisation. The activity of a groupthink, where everybody is working together and very interconnected. The writing process afterword is the real battle. It requires a lot of room for experimentation and the possibility of failure. It also requires lots of labor! I have to be steeped in this other world and focus large amounts of time and somehow know it backward and forward. Then I can finally solve the puzzle. It’s a struggle but it’s a fascinating struggle.
FD: My process is much more traditional. I like writing. It usually starts with a certain person or person’s action I saw and can’t understand. I’m trying to figure out what was in their mind that made them do it and build a story around that. The next piece I’m writing started with a specific shot. It was like, “How do I incorporate this into a story?” The whole film is based on one shot being placed at the most pivotal moment.
I also like working with the same people, primarily professional actors playing the main characters in the film where smaller parts are often played by non-actors. The merging of these two creates an authenticity that I believe an all-professional actors cast cannot bring. The actor I worked with for A Watched Pot has become a good friend and I'll write specific things for him now that we have worked together. We understand what each is looking for but are still willing to challenge each other.
LP: I like writing for specific people too. Right now I’m working with musicians and it’s a little like herding cats. They’re really brilliant and hilarious in front of the camera but you can put as much tape as you want on the floor and they won’t necessarily hit a mark. It requires having multiple cameras and being prepared for the unexpected. Sifting through things and to find that one performance gem is an essential part of process.
FD: Inevitably, when working with scripted material, going from paper to shooting is where some of the biggest struggles occur. But of all the satisfying moments, one is during production. It’s the moment when you’ve set up the scene, you have all the lights, you've done the blocking, and you just sit down and look at the monitor. It’s that realization that the picture you had in your head is really happening–the words you wrote–and every time you sit down and look, it gets very real all of a sudden.
Being able to recognize that the script is not necessarily going to be what I shoot exactly. It’s going to change. Trying to recognize where the character is going, or how the actor is working while shooting, can be where major changes need to happen. Scaling that back in post is where it becomes closer to what was written. When I’m editing, it’s not as much adding anything to the character, but taking things away. It’s wiping away dialogue and using more silences to get a character.
“I don’t consider myself an activist; I’m too quiet a person. I work intuitively and don’t script things beforehand. Character is formed through questions I ask. The reporter in my work is me, but I consider it more of a disembodied character where it could be anybody. You can see throughout the piece that I’m self-conscious about my position as an artist.”
The following are excerpts of a conversation between Laura Parnes and Yi Yi Lily Chan.
LP: The characters in your work are related to the alter ego, via the artist-as-reporter, asking questions and not necessarily getting answers. It mostly starts with an intuitive process. Do you start by experimenting with the camera or do you have a set activity?
LC: I began with a question but I don’t know who to ask or where to project it specifically. There would be images that come up in my head and they linger to a point where I feel like I have to re-enact them.
Extract and Repeat, a performance I did in response to a crazy woman in the subway [viral video footage on the Internet], is about people and public places and the reasons why they break down under different social structures and political pressures. I question what it is to be like them, which I decided to only investigate in physical gesture. I don’t want it to come off as parody, but instead question the act of distanced shaming and quick judgments, as facilitated by the Internet. I wasn’t fully empathizing with or trying to justify her; I was just wondering what these bodies go through, and why people react the way they do.
LP: Do you think it’s searching for empathy?
LC: It’s very much about empathy but it didn’t start that way. My empathizing came after making the work and realizing that certain physical intensities cannot be reached without a mental state that is on par. I felt terrible about her position and I didn’t want to judge her, but question what puts us through these physical gestures and traumas.
LP: The trauma of someone having a psychotic break, or a toxic episode caught on tape and then amplified by the Internet, it’s an interesting way to develop a character and attempt to create empathy for them.
There are performance artists who feel the need to embody specific public figures because of their own relationship to them. It’s hard to think of you not personally being invested in the character based on your process.
LC: It’s personal but it doesn’t illustrate a personal trauma. I don’t need that to address the questions I'm posing. Because I work intuitively, most of the time it feels like I’m creatively constipated. When it does flush out there’s often no time to plan or delegate extensively.
In your film Blood and Guts in High School a lot of the characters actually came through, for me, in the editing, the time you allow them to pause and subtle kind of things you do with framing. To what extent do you storyboard your shoot? Are they products of improvising? What is your process?
LP: Blood and Guts was a very choreographed. I blocked out everything. There was always a rehearsal and if it wasn’t in the actual space it didn’t really matter. What really mattered was the framing. The movement is really important. Stephanie Vella is an amazing actress and brought a lot to the role and incorporated certain performance elements that I wouldn’t have necessarily thought.
But some of the people were non-actors and I had to choreograph everything and be very controlled with framing–tell them where to stand and exactly how to deliver their lines, often reading the line to them or feed them lines. In some ways it relates to theater like The Wooster Group. They often feed each other lines through a headpiece. You get this other kind of worldly voice. It feels disembodied and that’s very important to that piece in particular. The slowness, the blocking; it would be really funny if all those scenes were sped up. Because they are intentionally slowed down they give you no relief. Being so formally controlled and structured is part of that kind of suffocating feeling.
LC: I’m not tied down to a specific process but satisfied when my random thoughts, suddenly come together and make sense. It isn’t satisfying when I shoot something perfectly because I don’t get anything new from the process and I like working with accidents. I always have a vague idea or an image I’ll act out and because I never script what I do, the raw footage will tell me what I’ll do next. Of course I might have to go back and get more material, but it’s constantly changing. Change happens in the editing room by what I give accent to. It’s always a discovery.
But editing can be terribly lonely. Sometimes I watch the footage I’ve collected, or randomly put together, and think, “Okay this is a new lead.” Then it suddenly becomes interesting. The loneliness is gone. I would not have made some of the work I did if I gave myself strict rules to stay true to; to the character I had in mind from the very beginning.
LP: You’re often not fully in the piece. With the reporter character, it’s just the microphone you show. When we see performance artists in their own pieces often it is about seeing their face–their persona. Your performance is first person–seeing through the eyes of your character.
LC: That comes from seeing the self-conscious that’s increasing in degree. Because of my race, because of the questions I’m posing in this particular work, I don’t want to limit the reach of those questions and have them skewed towards identity politics. It’s not about my cultural background but more about a globalized peripheral question, a homogenizing experience. Inevitably if I put my whole body and face in it you’re going to read it a certain way, unfortunately. There are certain contexts in which I have to avoid that in order for the work to reach more people. This removal is not about habit or comfort, but what the work or the questions I pose in the work necessitates. I don’t have to rely on my face or my body to establish personality. Meanwhile, I put myself fully in front of the lens in the aforementioned Extract and Repeat, because the work is partly about navigating identity, ethnicity, and challenging what people expect from someone of my upbringing to say on issues of border politics and territorialized experience, all boiling up within the same national and racial framework.
I am an observer of people and personalities and have always been interested in what faces have to say and the stories they tell. Shortly after college came a vocation in vaudeville, which led to documenting my acts and thus began my career in video and performance art. Through characters I mimic come the stories about lives that parallel my experience.
Wolf’s Canyon is an episodic “television show” based on the pop TV culture of my youth, including Twin Peaks, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Charmed, and the recent teen-girl phenomenon, Pretty Little Liars. By taking their tropes and archetypal characters, I created a female-driven comedy series based upon the absurdities of the daily life of an orphaned 16-year- old girl who moves across the country to live with her uncle in a haunted town. Though similar to stories that have been told before, my version is absurd, abstract, and comedic, as it addresses the pressures that society places on women to hate themselves, their bodies, and each other. It is quasi-formulaic art and comedic commentary designed to reach a community that is looking to laugh, as it critically revolutionizes how we digest female stories on television. It is aimed specifically toward young women whose window to the world is the screen in front of them.
Much of my prior work was performed solo and addressed aging. Those ideas took root as I transitioned into my thirties and became obsessed with the inevitability of growing old, and an inability to predict the future. As a way to break from the obsession, I developed the character Courtney, a ditsy stereotype teenager. She was a welcome relief, helping me take a break from analyzing Liz Zito. It was easy to make Courtney the victim of trauma, loss, and loneliness. She is bullied at school, although she seems not to be completely bothered by this, as her general attitude is quite superficial. As a character, she opens the door to absurd happenings that surround her in the town Wolf’s Canyon.
Directly inspired by Twin Peaks, I wanted to create a community in the Northwest that is home to a variety of unique and bizarre eccentrics. While the story of Wolf’s Canyon focuses on Courtney’s adventures, it is equally about its history and people. As the plot unfolds, so does the depth of our dimwitted Courtney. The outcome is a balance between good and evil in human nature and society. While previous acts of performing and filming myself were part of a meditative, creative process, and provided an intimate mood, for Wolf’s Canyon I wanted to have the opposite feeling. So I imagined a very large ensemble cast. Part of the development included asking colleagues what type of archetypal high school horror/drama character they would most relate to. Acquiring an improvised dialogue helped the relationships along as I chose untrained actors, to relate to and be inspired by characters. Their performance energy also added to the chaos of the aesthetics. The film contains much appropriated footage. It is mostly shot with a green screen and the inserted backgrounds come from image and video searches. These appropriated environments, mixed with handheld filming, aids in creating a bizarre reality that only exists in the town of Wolf’s Canyon. A major artistic influence for this work is Mike Kelley, specifically in his stories based on found photographs: Extracurricular Activity Projective Reconstructions. Usually these images are of archetypal characters performing in low-budget, theatrical productions. The videos he makes from these photographs are placed in individual sculptural installations, which are often from the set of his films. The
general feeling of these films is oddly reminiscent of a cultural past. His celebration of pop culture comes from a type of loathing of the mainstream world. I am making a mockery of similar television shows, which stems from indulging in it, and is thus a romantic relationship of sorts. Though I may not agree with the content, I can’t get enough of it. Where Kelley uses material from his past, the team of Ryan Trecartin and Lizzie Fitch are infatuated with the present and creates hyper, neo-reality videos in which characters frantically communicate with each other using Internet slang as dialogue. The characters are carefully painted and decorated, ranging in tone from extreme florescence to washed-out white. They are placed in immersive installation rooms and visually blend into their environments, which aid in the storytelling. There is a connection between Wolf’s Canyon and the Trecartin’s work, which he states is influenced by the Disney Channel and MTV.
While making Wolf’s Canyon, I thought about George Kuchar, particularly Eclipse of the Sun Virgin (1967). I connect to his view of the world and his techniques of storytelling in a time-based medium that unites the viewer to his vision. The film creates the sensations of Kuchar’s struggle with religion and sexuality, as well as feelings of romance, and the absurdity of family relationships and expectations. His storylines and enthusiasm for film paved the way for filmmakers to experiment with ideas of what storytelling can be.
In addition to Twin Peaks, other shows that have inspired Wolf’s Canyon include Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Pretty Little Liars. Buffy is a show that I watched growing up, in which the protagonist is a high school girl who had to save the world over and over. Less supernatural, Pretty Little Liars deals with female teenagers who have too much life and death responsibility; and each is keeping a secret, much like Buffy. I find it undeniable that these shows have incredible success in pop culture and great agency in influencing maturing young minds. I continue to research why this genre has become of interest to so many women through an exploration of abjection in feminist, philosophical theory. In Wolf’s Canyon, Courtney is symbolic of a certain element of societal repulsion. She remains oblivious to her shortcomings and continues forward with minimal introspection. While other characters seem to evolve, she remains a product of circumstance. Ultimately, Courtney represents an amalgamation of everything society has warned young women against and she embodies the paradox in what contemporary expects of young women.
Everything is Fine
I’ve always wanted to be an artist; so I suppose I’ve always wanted to go mad. It has been difficult to avoid worshipping the idea of the tortured artist, and to reject pushing myself closer to the “edge” to become truly great. Especially when many sources illustrate creative madness to be one and the same: movies, books, and artists themselves. My earliest and greatest influence, however, has been a source much closer to home, my aunt Dot. In the fall of 2000, Dot committed suicide and our tightly knit family took her death very hard. My earliest memories of aunt Dot are of a charming, beautiful woman, an artist, whose life was carefree and ideal. Later I understood that she was a victim of bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. As I became aware of her difficulties, I struggled with the ways in which I had perceived her.
I’ve always felt that Dot and I led parallel lives, and often wonder if that will continue. We are the youngest daughters of large, traditional families, raised in the suburbs, and striving for a little something more. Because we were both artistically inclined it was natural for my family to group us together. Although Dot was often absent, my family has many of her snapshots and photographs. I would look at them and see exactly who I wanted to be. She appeared to be wild and dazzling. In actuality, Dot was sad and broken down, but I was unable to separate the “real” Dot from the glamour and adventure I had attached to her life. Although Dot had displayed warning signs of her illness in her childhood, it was during graduate school that her mental health started to take a turn for the worse. My family felt that, seemingly embarrassed of her conservative upbringing, she pushed herself to be eccentric and unusual. The pressure and anxiety to be unique proved too much for her. She started to suffer from severe depressions, to hear voices, to live a precarious life. After her death, Dot remained a constant presence in my life. Like an affable ghost or an imaginary friend, she has travelled with me in the back of my mind. I have both wished and feared that I will become like her. For me, she continues to be the image of an artist, and yet I know that to follow her path is to follow a road to destruction. Since pursuing my own graduate degree, I have thought of Dot more than ever and feel a stronger need to understand her struggles. Reaching another parallel in our lives, I wonder if I, too, will be unable to handle the pressure and anxieties. And I wonder if in order to truly become an artist I must push past my worries and let go to madness.
In attempting to understand Dot’s life and the grips of her disease, I created the series Everything is Fine. It is a project comprised of several video installation pieces that embody my process of comprehension and exploration. Each video strives to express a feeling of anxiety, of instability, of what it means to reach your breaking point. Paired with a precarious sculptural element, the tension of the videos is brought into the reality of the exhibition space. The actors in the videos include my mother, my sisters, and a female cousin. I wanted to expand the actors beyond myself in order to express the idea of commonality. I’ve chosen to use my family members, as well as myself, as performers in these videos in order to address the hereditary nature of mental illness. I’ve chosen women to feature so that, as subjects, we represent not only ourselves but also become stand-ins for Dot.
I am inspired by Sophie Calle, with works like Take Care of Yourself and The Sleepers. Her work is autobiographical but not highly personal, intimate but also voyeuristic. The end result is both documentation and an art piece in its own right. Trying to apply these principles to my work, I chose to move my project about Dot into the world of video and performance. Other influences for my work are experimental video from the late 1960s and’70s. Pieces like Bruce Nauman’s Stamping in the Studio and Bouncing in the Corner I, as well as William Wegman’s Stomach Song were good references for body exercises used as art and performance. Chris Burden’s Through the Night Softly and Shoot showed me a way of using physical harm to provoke an emotional reaction. It is perhaps the work of Bas Jan Ader that has been my strongest guide. Ader’s work possesses many of the same attributes as Nauman, Wegman and Burden, but contains much more emotional weight.
Everything Is Fine is a project about my aunt. It is a project about my family. It is a project about myself and, most of all, it is a project about the struggles to create. Perhaps becoming an artist will drive me mad, or perhaps, to quote Louise Bourgeois, “art is a guarantee of sanity.”
Darlene is a young lady who is a pop star of sorts. As a portrait photographer, what I find most interesting about Darlene is Nick’s relationship to her.
When Nick and I discussed his fantasy character, he spoke of her as though they were the same person. I had just finished a yearlong project photographing trans men and was very excited to see how I would translate or render Darlene’s identity through my lens. The aim was to create a quasi-magazine spread for her – something similar to Vanity Fair or Rolling Stone – but I liked the idea of the pictures weaving a line between editorial and advertising, with a nod to popular imagery that we see in today’s media.
I wanted Darlene to look impeccable, strong, raw, and beautiful. I chose Calvin Klein underwear for wardrobe because it is one of the most recognizable sexy garments for a young generation. Calvin Klein chooses high profile models, actors, and singers to sell their brand, and I thought Darlene would portray this ideal perfectly.
As much as she's making a declaration in her Calvins, Darlene also deserves to be seen as an earnest lady. She has a story to tell, and I imagined that she would want to show us her chic side wearing fur and an up-do.
Watching Nick become Darlene was the highlight of this collaboration. Nick required little direction, and quickly understood what I wanted Darlene to exude – lips slightly parted, eyes a bit starstruck, an attitude of take me or leave me, but please want me. Within seconds he seamlessly transitioned into Darlene, and revealed the many facets of her personality – just the way she needed us to see them.
Initially I had no idea that having an alter ego would take me on a two-year photographic journey. My thesis project “xoxo, Darlene” began as an unspoken hought, and soon this imaginary friend developed into a full-fledged, realized identity.
Darlene became a part of me throughout my graduate studies, but it was this carefully focused photo shoot that allowed her inner star to shine bright. With Melody’s direction, a make-up artist carefully sculpting my face and a lighting crew, Darlene became the brave woman and heroine I wanted her to be. With the support of my peers, the mfa photo department, and a lot of trial and error with makeup and dance moves, I can finally say that I not only feel comfortable in #mycalvins, but also in my life.