GIRLS 16

GIRLS MAGAZINE

IN FOCUS

GIRLS MAGAZINE IN FOCUS

Letter from the Editor, Page 3

Rejeana V. Black, Page 4

Brittany Rose Bradley, Page 8

Casey Kauffmann, Page 13

Maya June Mansour, Page 23

Star Montana, Page 27

GIRLS MISSION STATEMENT

GIRLS is a revised portfolio of interviews from a nationwide community of real, strong womxn. It's a magazine that is 100% all womxn, which is beautiful in its rarity - the magazine is a safe space FOR womxn ABOUT womxn. Created by Adrianne Ramsey, it serves as a content destination for multigenerational womxn. Read on for an engagement of feminist voices and a collaborative community for independent girls to discover, share, and connect. The usage of the terms "girls" and "womxn" refers to gender-expansive people (cis girls, trans girls, non-binary, non-conforming, gender queer, femme centered, and any girl-identified person).

Front and Back Cover Image: Star Montana, East LA Landscape, 2021

BY ADRIANNE RAMSEY

My personal history to photography is both lifelong, special, and crucial to my development. When I was six years old, I received a yellow Kodak camera, a first for me. I must’ve taken that camera around with me everywhere, snapping pictures whenever I could and getting so excited while waiting for the film to develop. I continued to take pictures in middle and high school, uploading them to social media and receiving praise from my friends and classmates for always capturing the moments we had with one another. I also took both Beginning and Advanced Photography while in high school, where I borrowed my mother’s analog Olympia camera and learned about the photo development process. My high school had a darkroom, and I have fond memories of spending so many hours in there, either making photograms or waiting for my photographs to dry. In my first semester of college, I took Dr. Maika Pollack’s course “The Artful Science: Photography and Society, 1825-1919” and wrote papers on the photographic practices of Virginia Oldoini, Jacob Riis, Lewis Hine, and Dorothea Lange. This was the first art history course I ever took and piqued my interest in the subject as a whole, but also provided so much knowledge as to how art is even processed The evolution of developing photography is a long one, from the negative-positive process, wet plate, calotype, multiple lens, salt paper (gelatin and print), albumen, etc.; these processes are also influenced by the advancement of technology. Andre Adolphe Eugene Disderi’s “carte-de-viste” method, in which multiple photographs are cut on a single plate and shared, is the predecessor to uploading photo albums to Facebook. Both exchanges – the former being in the nineteenth century and the latter in the twenty-first century – were ways to socialize amongst several groups. While I do not identify as an artist, photography has always remained a consistent element in my life and my introduction to art history, which I will always acknowledge. All of these personal anecdotes are why I am so excited to release GIRLS 16: In Focus, an issue that highlights femme identifying photographers and image makers. Each of the interviewees – Rejeana, Brittany, Casey, Maya, and Star – have individual practices that are so different from one another’s, but are united in their mission to highlight stories that are often ignored or misrepresented in the larger art world. I also found it intriguing that each participant has a different method for taking and processing their photographs, thus further highlighting the diversity of the medium as a whole. I also thought it was important to include image makers into the conversation of photography. In this case, I’m using “images” as an umbrella term for video, television, film, and photography (i.e., media) and arguing that images control society. It’s not about looking at an image - our experience is being crafted by consuming popular images (memes, gifs, and stills). In a way, experiences are no longer happening in person; it's through images and technology. I am happy that this vital perspective is included in this issue of GIRLS, and again, the biggest thanks goes to all of the participants for allowing me to engage in these wonderful conversations and include them in print.

REJEANA V. BLACK

Rejeana V. Black is a Long Beach based artist and independent curator working in photography and video. She is a recent graduate from California State University, Long Beach with a BFA in Photography and a certificate in American Indian and Indigenous Studies. As a Getty Marrow Undergraduate Intern alumni of 2021, Rejeana has been an independent curator for the past two years and has exhibited two art exhibitions in Long Beach, CA. Rejeana is also a 2021-2022 Professional Arts Project Fellow awarded by the Arts Council for Long Beach. In 2019, she had a solo exhibition at the Dr. Maxine Merlino Gallery at California State University, Long Beach that explored epigenetics and ancestral trauma. Her practice has been influenced by psychological researchers Dr. Joy DeGruy, Dr. Eduardo Duran and Carl Gustav Jung. Her work attempts to facilitate a conversation around how ancestral trauma is stored in our DNA and affects our mental health and daily lives.

Courtesy of Jose Angel Castro

REJEANA V. BLACK

GM: What was your path to becoming a photographer?

RVB: Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve enjoyed capturing photographs. My journey to mastering my passion began in high school, when photography seemed to be the new “fad” and everyone was getting Canon or Nikon DSLRs I first took pictures on my old pink Razor cell phone and a cheap digital camera in my first photography class in ninth grade. From there, I was hooked, and when my mother could finally afford to buy my very own DSLR camera, I had as many photo shoots that I could with my high school friends. I actually started my freelance photography practice in high school, [where I was] paid to take photos of local teen functions and friends’ photo shoots, which I’d then post on Facebook. [This is] what inspired me to pursue college and continue to study my passion. Due to life circumstances, it took me eight years to earn my BFA in Photography and a certificate in American Indian and Indigenous Studies from California State University, Long Beach in 2021. During undergrad, I started dabbling with video art, which I found to be a therapeutic extension of my love for photography. I’ve had the honor of exhibiting my work in multiple art exhibitions since my undergrad studies, and have been blessed to now be a teaching artist in an all Black creative cohort that serves an academic enrichment program. Go Make Something Kids! is dedicated to teaching students’ resilience through artistic expression. In partnership with the non-profit Arts Council of Long Beach, we offer several in-school workshops to Long Beach middle school students that center youth experiences while exploring creative expression in artistic fields such as photography, business of art, and painting.

GM: What types of themes do you like to pursue in your photography practice?

RVB: My photography practice focuses on identity and ancestral trauma, specifically within the African diaspora, and how it affects our mental health in our daily lives. I utilize projection in experimental portraiture juxtaposed with collage, typically pulling from public archival Funkadelic aesthetics with text and imagery.

Rejeana V. Black, Holocaust of Enslavement, 2020

REJEANA V. BLACK

GM: You and I recently participated in a panel event that was organized by Black Women Photographers. You mentioned that you feel like artists who don’t have a BFA and/or MFA are often subjected to undue pressure or judged unfairly. Did you feel pressured to go to college?

RVB: I really appreciate this question because I can answer both – yes and no. Being a first-generation college graduate [is why] I believe I had more emotional support from my parents, who were just proud to see me going to college. [They didn’t] really understand the full scope of why I chose photography. But when I found myself sharing my major choice to other adults/parents, most of them being Black, and I was surprised with how much doubt and negative feedback was expressed in my pursuit of a fine art degree. It really pushed me to stick it through, despite many obstacles during the eight years it took to finish school

[I wanted] to prove all of those people wrong and inspire my friends who didn’t get that same emotional support to master their passions in higher education. Many don’t see the importance of an art degree, and it was disappointing during my undergraduate career to have so many talented friends who weren’t encouraged to choose their passions as degrees to only be unhappy during their time in college [in order] to simply satisfy their parents’ expectations of what they found most profitable.

GM: Could you talk about your guerilla documentary series, SEVENTY X SEVEN (2020)? What was the inspiration for this project and why did you make it when you did?

RVB: My guerilla documentary series, SEVENTY X SEVEN (2020), is a four-part introspection of seven Black fathers and their experiences living with Los Angeles County law enforcement. What triggered me to make this documentary series was the innumerable deaths of Black Americans that occurred specifically in 2020, with George Floyd’s filmed public murder being the most traumatic. (Continued)

Rejeana V. Black, Angelic Beings, 2021

Rejeana V.Black, Infinite Power, 2021

Having a Black father who has had countless traumatic incidents during his life with law enforcement, I felt compelled to hear and share the stories of those that survived their encounters with police and then have to live with the physiological aftermath that no one outside of the Black community understands. One of the seven Black dads that I interviewed is actually my father, who is the oldest out of the group at 65 years old, and he describes in grave detail some of his run-ins with the police. What was haunting to hear [was that] some of these events occurred within the past thirty years. I wanted to spread awareness of how such violent, negative experiences with police impact our Black men who do get to live another day, and how this trauma/fear is passed down epigenetically to our next generations.

GM: Are there any contemporary or historical photographers that inspire your practice?

RVB: Lorna Simpson, Carrie Mae Weems, Hank Willis Thomas, and Renell Medrano

GM: What are you currently working on in your practice?

RVB: Currently I am working on a photograph series centered on the concept of sisterhood in the African diaspora, titled Yaaasss Sis! (2022), that I plan to exhibit in an upcoming group show in January 2023. The work is a lot lighter and joyful compared to what I’ve been making in the past three years, turning my focus more towards the vitality of Black life and the importance of sisterhood in our culture. I am continuing my exploration with projection as well and will eventually publish them in a photo book.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. It took place in December 2022.

BRITTANY ROSE BRADLEY

Brittany R. Bradley is an award-winning alternative process photographer and an established museum and gallery professional. Her work has been featured in group exhibits at the Center for Photographic Art, the San Francisco Arts Commission, Photos De Femmes, the Rhode Island Center for Photographic Arts, and the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival. As a museum collections registrar, Bradley has worked with the collections of renowned photographers including Andrew J. Russell, Dorothea Lange, Anne Brigman, and Joanne Leonard. She studied photography with Nigel Poor and Douglas Dertinger at Sacramento State University, and she holds a B.A. in Photography. She studied the wet-plate collodion process with France Scully Osterman in Rochester, New York, and with David Emitt Adams and Claire A. Warden in Benabbio, Italy. Bradley uses a mobile darkroom to bring collodion photography to the public via demonstrations and artist talks.

Photo by Kayleigh McCollum

GM: What was your path to becoming a photographer?

BRB: I was introduced to photography by my father at the age of 8. Photography is a complex medium; it’s fraught with political, power, and class struggles, and has roots in racism and exclusionary practices, but also has the potential to be a democratizing medium. It’s used to express freedom and often the first medium we turn to when we want to either listen to or elevate the voices of marginalized communities and their stories. Since its invention, photography has been a present and powerful tool in major social movements, and the ability of images to elicit emotions and empathy is second to no other medium.

GM: Why do you use the 19th century Wet Plate Collodion process when developing your photographs?

BRB: Process and cameras are to a photographer what paint brushes and stroke techniques are to a painter. The tools you choose can either help or hinder your ability to communicate. Unlike a painter, photographers should consider the limitations and history of the equipment and processes they choose.

Selecting a photographic process without considering the result and what that medium will do to contribute to or detract from those stories is negligent. Wet Plate Collodion has a history steeped in elitism, colonialism, and racism. It's also incredibly limiting, temperamental, and unpredictable. My decision to use collodion is intentional. The stories previously documented with collodion are half-truths at best, and in most cases, exploitative. Its more recent resurgence in popularity has been almost entirely nostalgic commercial portraiture, a service not far from its original applications. I am mindful of the power dynamics collodion perpetuates; I editorialize those histories, practices, and dynamics to create something "else.” Few photographers using alternative photographic processes are choosing to address this history in their practice, and I deeply admire the work of those who are. I firmly believe that while the technique is important, making work that is intentional and purposeful far outweighs that of an image that is devoid of flaws. We've had 170 years plus of beautiful art images; it's time to see what else our medium is capable of

Brittany Rose Bradley, The Bond, 2019

GM: This process requires long exposure times of upwards of 5 minutes – how does this affect your practice?

BRB: Wet Plate is expensive, slow, and very specific in its restrictions, [but] these limitations serve my practice The expense allows me to call attention to the value of the voices I'm collaborating with. The long exposure times and slow process provide me more time to collaborate and connect with my sitters. The minimal visible spectrum of UV light empowers me to discuss colorism and the racist history that drove all of photography's technological advances. The temperamental nature of the medium permits me to humble myself as a photographer and level the dynamics and inherent power disparity that usually exists between the subject and photographer. As a white photographer of mixed heritage and queer identity, this medium allows me to address all kinds of dynamics that concern myself and my privileges, gender, sex, gaze, and role in my own communities and the ones with whom I collaborate. If you think as an artist that your identity plays no role in the images you make or the stories you tell, you are lying to yourself The world has romanticized the adage – "great artists steal" – for far too long I want to see what happens when we give with intention, and collodion provides me the platform to explore that.

GM: Your photographic series, The Continuous Thread (2019), depicts members of the Native American community centered around the Pioneer Monument in San Francisco, specifically the empty plinth where the “Early Days” sculptural grouping stood before it was removed in September 2018. Could you discuss the origins of this project and why you decided to recast the Native American community in a contemporary light, while using this old-fashioned developing method?

BRB: The Continuous Thread was a community-wide collaboration to celebrate the removal of the “Early Day’s” statue in San Francisco. My role was part of a community commentary, and my inclusion in the project was secondary to two other talented Indigenous photographers, Jean Melesaine and Hulleah J. Tsinhnahjinnie. The project was organized and funded by the SFAC and curated by Carolyn Melenani Kuali’i. Early on in the project discussions, modern processes needed to be centered [in order] to elevate the modernity of the community and the efforts being made. (Continued)

Brittany Rose Bradley, Strong Powerful Beautiful, 2018

Both Tsinhnahjinnie and Melesaine used digital format images in full color; it was extremely important to all of us involved that these images be the center of the movement, “Living people, Thriving Communities, Living Color.” My role was twofold. The period from which the statue was represented overlapped with the use of collodion in the documentation of "relations" between white colonial America and Indigenous communities. Historical images from this period depicting Indigenous leaders and communities would seem harmless, unless you knew the medium well. A trained eye and photo historian would be able to tell you otherwise What would seem like a subtle decision to have Indigenous leaders stand in an image and white generals sit might seem respectful to a layperson, I know for a fact that because of the process's slow nature, it merely ensured that the white participants would be clear and in focus, while the Indigenous leaders most likely would not be. There are dozens of instances like this in historical photos. We intended to document this modern victory by using the medium relevant to the statue's reference, but turn every historical cliche on its head. I spent the entire project laboring, collaborating, and talking about these issues with each group and community member, and asking them to help me address those troupes. The second effort that was most important to me, given the extremely exploitative relationship photographers have had with Indigenous communities, is that the original images belong to the community members. Copyright was shared, permissions were required for the use or purchase of originals, and ownership over each image belonged to the community members depicted. (Continued)

Brittany Rose Bradley, "Artist, Creator, Here" from The Continuous Thread, 2019

Far too often, Indigenous folx are photographed and never reap any benefit from the transaction. It was dire to me that the images using this medium would not depict nostalgic historical images from the past, but modern people in a contemporary moment of victory who had as much control and ownership of the image as I. The intention was to make an offering to the community and address my medium's history, while working to rewrite what it means to make portraits. My role was a communal gift and gesture in conjunction with the timeless work of Jean Melesaine and Hulleah J. Tsinhnahjinnie.

GM: Could you name any contemporary or historical photographers that inspire your practice?

BRB: In no particular order of importance or influence, I'd say I am most impacted by Dustin Thierry, Wendy Red Star, Liam Woods, Tina Modotti, Carrie Mae Weems, Lola Álvarez Bravo, Chloe Aftel, Nan Goldin, Laura Aguilar, Sally Mann, Claude Cahun, Jeremey Grier, and Claire A. Warden. Each of these artists has challenged the old-guard view of portraiture. For the contemporaries listed, I so look forward to everything they make. I am particularly anxious to see a full show of Dustin Thierry's work in person. Theirry’s work is a love poem to his community and his own identity. Our experiences are different, but the heart of what he’s striving to capture really resonates with me and my own work. He asks difficult questions of himself and the world at large, but always centers his Caribbean heritage in the complex identity and experiences of being Caribbean and living in Europe.

GM: What are you currently working on in your practice?

BRB: I've been accepted to the Cubberly Artist Studio Program for 2023 and am looking forward to finally having a home base! I have several projects that I'd like to sink my teeth into, but I'm most excited for an Ultra Large Format project of femme presenting folx who are behemoths in their career fields. I've been waiting for an opportunity to start that for some time, and I finally have some traction and sample images to pursue collaborations and possible funding. I just returned from a residency at Creekside Arts in Eureka, CA, and I'm excited to pursue some of the threads I pulled at during the month I was there, which was experimenting with all the ways collodion can be manipulated to make more than a 2D photograph.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. It took place in November 2022.

CASEY KAUFFMANN

Casey Kauffmann is an interdisciplinary artist working in drawing, installation, video, and a variety of digital mediums. She is a lecturer at the University of California San Diego. Kauffmann was born in the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles, California in 1989. She lives and works in Southern California and received her MFA from The University of Southern California in 2020 and her Bachelor of Arts from The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington. Her work has been featured in publications such as Artnet, Artillery, LAWeekly, The New Yorker, I-D Vice, and Hyperallergic She has exhibited her work nationally and internationally in galleries such as Transfer Gallery, Centro de Cultura Digital, Human Resources, Lyles and King, Coaxial, Arebyte, Cirrus, and more. Kauffmann’s collage Instagram project @uncannysfvalley, which she started in 2014, features digital collage works and GIFs created using only her iPhone. The pieces Kauffmann posts to this account are an ever-accumulating collection of material from all corners of the internet, sourced from Tumblr, Instagram, and Google. This Instagram account and body of work has been exhibited in many galleries, written about in several esteemed publications, and led to her admission to the MFA program at the University of Southern California. Kauffmann’s drawing practice functions as an inquiry into the representation of femme emotion and hysteria in both art history and popular culture.

Photo by Ryan Miller

GM: What was your path to becoming an artist?

CK: I grew up in the San Fernando Valley and am one of four sisters, so [I was] around a lot of femme energy. My mom is a pageant queen from the Valley; she was Queen of Queens in the Hollywood Parade. She’s lovely, hilarious, and a very charming woman, but she also suffers from mental illness and has a strong personality. (Laughs) My father made Barbie commercials my whole life; he worked at Mattel. Also being [raised] in Los Angeles, you grow up with really oppressive and strong relationships to beauty standards. My dad was also this liberal, strong-minded hippie who marched with Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and was a part of the Student’s for Democratic Society He taught me to question these things, but also exposed me to it The femme side of my family somewhat embraced these beauty standards, and I kind of felt outside of that.

GM: Did you feel stuck in the middle?

CK: Yeah, totally! A great place for inspiration is being in the middle. (Laughs) I never did well at school – I barely graduated from high school. But I was always interested in art and took art lessons as a kid. I ended up at Evergreen State College in Washington state, which is a wonderful place. [There are] no grades or tests, just feelings. It’s outside of the normal, institutional standard, and I went there because I felt like I was this hippie And then I got there and realized, “I’m not a hippie, I’m an LA bitch!” (Laughs) Again, it’s these opposing forces that make you realize your perspective, and I was taking a bunch of art classes. I ended up having this collection of digital material because I was on Tumblr and didn’t really know how to use it. Eventually, I got into the practice of collage. I didn’t have a computer when I graduated undergrad, didn’t know how to use Photoshop, and didn’t have any of those digital skills. But I wanted to talk about the way that I grew up with these mass cultural ephemera presentations. I’ve been collecting images relating to that on Tumblr for years. I would print out these images and I would use objects to make physical collages in a scanner so that I could participate in digital art. I’d smoke a bunch of Fantasia cigarettes, put it in the scanner, and put extension tracks in with the scanned images I really think that my path to becoming an artist came from a really colorful family life and the opposing forces of my perspective and the mass culture that I consumed my whole life.

GM: Your practice really highlights reality television, found images, and popular memes – The Real Housewives, Bad Girls Club, The Hills, Keeping Up With The Kardashians, and Rock of Love are some of the few that have been represented. Pornography is also a very common theme – could you talk about this?

CK: I look at the figures that I use as actors for me. I get to talk about these deeper and more difficult issues by using someone else as the figure, and I speak through them (Continued)

CASEY KAUFFMANN

There’s two ways that that works. It’s somebody else’s face and their humor, and the use of social media that gives that distance where I’m able to talk about deeply personal issues. Humor is really rooted in anger and trauma for me. With reality television, I’m super interested in the concept of the hysterical woman and the way that representations of femme emotion show up in visual culture throughout history, art history, and contemporary culture. I can never not think about John Berger talking in “Ways of Seeing”, a BBC series from 1972, about how in [classical] paintings a woman is often has a mirror in her hand and is condemned for being vain, yet the man who painted her put the mirror in her hand. I’m interested in how femme identifying figures in television are often placed in a scenario where they are damned for their reactions, but the scenario itself creates that reaction. I’ve been watching reality TV my whole life, and there’s always this question [I ask myself] when I perform emotion or selfhood – am I really being myself, or am I reenacting what I’ve consumed?

[...] The Real Housewives of Orange County premiered in 2006. I graduated from high school in 2007, and that era is when social media came to its greatest prominence. MySpace launched in 2003, Facebook in 2004, Twitter in 2006, and Instagram in 2010. The apps that we are familiar with today came to prominence at the same time as reality television. This dissolve of public and private life that is demonstrated in both genres is so deeply connected to how we perform selfhood and emotion today, and how we interact with one another.

GM: Reality television absolutely exploded due to the 2007-08 Writer’s Strike. All network shows were on pause for months and either had to end early or air a shortened season. Because reality television doesn’t officially have writers, that genre boomed during this time

CK: I’ve seen every single episode of every city franchise of The Real Housewives. I am a voracious television consumer, and I also think that [one should] turn your negative addiction into your practice and base your research on what you love. […] To address the pornography side of [my work], I’m also really interested in how the mass culture representation of sexuality has mostly been authored by white men There’s questions such as, “Is my fantasy my own, or is it what I’ve consumed? Is my kink a part of the culture that I’ve been exposed to, or what I really like?” There's this blurred line between who I am and what I've seen. For me, using pornographic images is just me taking the tools that were made by someone else and turning it into my own fantasy. It comes in many forms and a lot of it comes out [of it] in a critical way but all of it feels therapeutic.

Casey Kauffmann, #comrade, 2021

CASEY KAUFFMANN

GM: What is the story behind your photo collages? How do you create them?

CK: A huge part of the joy of my work is when memes are funny and built on inside jokes. There is a shared community built through the presentation of images that is only made possible through online image economies, and I live for that response. (Laughs) […] Artists often have to justify their work in hindsight; I started my Instagram in 2014 and began making these works, and I didn’t fully understand what I was doing. Through educating myself further, I’ve come to understand the real motivations behind my work. [There is an] interest in the joy of shared culture and content. I read the piece “In Defense of the Poor Image” by the artist Hito Steyerl in graduate school, and it blew my mind The degradation in image quality that occurs when images circulate online is due to their popularity and is a representation of shared culture and popularity. When I re-contextualize these images through the process of collage, I wonder, “Does [the image] hold on to the aura of its exchange?” Anybody could make [the work that I make] by downloading the free app that I have. I have a real interest in creating work that is about accessibility. The process of collage is also a function within all of my work, even my drawing practice, and I really like to think about how that magical moment of putting one image next to another creates new meaning. I’m really interested in the puzzle of generating new meanings through that process.

GM: Let’s get into some specific works of yours – could you start with #attentionseeker (2015)?

CK: #attentionseeker is an early piece that I made when I started @uncannysfvalley I really wanted to build an artistic community in Los Angeles, but I have pretty bad social anxiety, even though I’m a big talker! (Laughs) My battery drains really quickly, so social media was a way for me to connect with people, and I wanted to share my work without embarrassment. I was into the idea of social media facilitating shameless validation seeking, which is the whole reason that the platform exists We want to be known and connect with other people; I don’t think there’s any shame in wanting attention and validation [ ] #attentionseeker is a collage where I was being really honest. I made a Facebook page for my Instagram, and I just wanted people to follow me. Without even knowing it, I made the connection between social media and reality television. I loved these women, the need for attention, and these performative gestures where you don’t know what’s real and you don’t know what’s fake

Casey Kauffmann, #attentionseeker, 2015

GM: Let’s transition to two of your more recent pieces, Knowing Others and Wanting To Be Known (2020 - Ongoing) and Look At My Life (2022).

CK: I made Knowing Others when I was in grad school, which I went to because I felt my Instagram practice had reached this plateau. [It had become] these images repeating the same subject matter and connecting with the same kind of people. I wanted to know how I could take it further conceptually, technically, and formally. I did run into some faculty who looked at my work and didn’t understand it due to “generational difference.” Because I’m about accessibility, I want to create as wide of a field of understanding as possible. […] I had made gifs before, but I never made video work, which gave additional dimensions of time and voice to my work. Knowing Others and Wanting To Be Known addressed that; that piece functions like a social media timeline. It’s these short narratives strung together to create a binge-watching experience; I would love one day for it to be five hours long. All of these episodes [in the piece] are strung together, with the hope that I can keep adding these episodes that reflect the culture I’m consuming in the moment. […] Look at My Life features Erika Girardi, Jen Shah, Ramona Singer, and Eboni K. Williams from The Real Housewives. During the pandemic, there were social uprisings that forced reality television to address inequity in a way that they never had before. My personal belief is that if you are as rich as some of these women, you’ve oppressed people. You don’t get that rich in this country without fucking with other people. (Laughs)

Casey Kauffmann, Knowing Others and Wanting To Be Known, 2020 - Ongoing

GM: We both love reality TV, so let’s talk Housewives for a minute! It’s interesting how Erika and Tom Girardi always milked [his connection to the Erin Brockovich case], but he was not the main attorney that worked with Erin. The film shows that and everyone knows that. I had never heard of the Girardi’s until The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I knew who Garcelle Beauvais, Denise Richards, Brandi Glanville, Kathy Hilton, and Faye Resnick were, for various reasons, usually relating to acting careers or the tabloids

CK: I think that all viewers of reality TV get really excited when there’s this undeniable connection of real life on the show, which we all know to some degree is fake. With Jen Shah and Erika Girardi, these are two women who are crying on television and getting very upset, but have seriously oppressed and hurt people, and done vile fucking things. I don’t doubt that Erika probably had less knowledge than her husband did, but she’s absolutely guilty. [Editor’s Note: Tom Girardi was accused of misappropriating client funds in December 2020 and is involved in numerous ongoing lawsuits due to his misconduct He has since been disbarred ] She knew what the fuck was going on And Jen Shah, my god – that’s with intent and knowing what she’s doing. [Editor’s Note: Jen Shah of RHOSLC pled guilty to conspiracy to commit wire fraud in July 2022. She will be sentenced in January 2023.]

GM: I just love how Andy Cohen is completely done with [Jen Shah]. She’s not on the [RHOSLC] After Show or WWHL, and she wasn’t at this year’s BravoCon. I can’t blame him, what she did is horrible. Erika Girardi doesn’t realize that most people do not think that she conspired with Tom to steal his client’s money. What people think is that Tom stole the money to buy Erika that crap, and that’s why we want her to give it back! If a thief steals a car and gives it to you, you don’t get to keep the car!

CK: You couldn’t have said it better – it’s still a crime! And she definitely needs a new publicist (Laughs) Her callous responses are fucking herself over.

Casey Kauffmann, Look At My Life, 2022

Installation view of Knowing Others and Wanting To Be Known (2020 - Ongoing) in the exhibition

Who Do You Think You Are I Am (August 2020).

Photo by Jackie Castillo

GM: They’re bad, and when she’s saying “alleged” victims – they were already victims! That’s the point. They were already determined to be victims of their individual circumstances, and that’s why there were settlements.

CK: She used to be one of my favorites to watch, and now I’ve never hated a Housewife more than I hate her But I still think she’s great to watch. […] There’s this clash between what’s happening in reality and the façade, [as in] the synthesized nature of these carefree women who [just care about money]. Then there’s a doubling down with The Real Housewives of New York and [the tension] between Ramona and Ebony

GM: Oh my god. I’ve never been so uncomfortable watching something aside from the Black Sabbath dinner. [Editor’s Note: This took place during RHONY Season 13, which aired in 2021 ] I wanted to die (Laughs)

CK: It’s insane. I was losing my mind watching that. It’s such an incredible [example] of what Black women go through. The poise and calm that Ebony displays in that moment is just so fucking unfair with this psychotic woman. It’s mind-blowing, but there’s the macro-oppression of the bigger crimes, where millions of dollars are being taken from underrepresented victimized people, and then there’s the micro-aggressions of the interaction between Ebony and Ramona, which happened because Bravo wasn’t doing a good job of representing people of color.

GM: I remember what happened with Vanderpump Rules, with Stassi [Schroeder] and Kristen [Doute], along with several other cast members, getting fired for ignorant and racist comments and actions. But they had been doing that for years – Stassi’s podcast episode where she and Kristen openly laughed about filing a false police report about a Black cast member, Faith Stowers, had been online for two years before Bravo did anything. Stassi had also made ignorant comments regarding the #OscarsSoWhite controversy. Bravo just didn’t care until they were forced to. I still read comments of people saying they want Stassi and Kristen back because the show is “boring” without them, but it’s a different experience for me as a Black viewer. (Continued)

There’s a lot of racism within the Bravo-sphere, and I know there’s people out there that refuse to watch Atlanta or Potomac because those shows have predominately Black casts And I still see people blaming Leah [McSweeney] and Eboni for RHONY’s cancellation. Leah was only there for two seasons and Ebony for one. They did not get a years-long franchise cancelled. We all know whose fault it really was, and I hate the misdirected blame.

CK: These things have always been an issue, and the only reason they’re being addressed is from societal pressure and social justice movements. It’s a really interesting moment where these women are having to answer for their victimization of people Bravo itself and the [Housewives] franchises have to answer for their lack of representation and inability to address the issues at hand [ ] I also watched all of these Karen videos coming out; [there has been] increased accountability because people have cell phones in their hands. These women have always been there, but now it’s being exposed on these platforms. The whole point of that piece was to draw a comparison between what is happening in The Real Housewives franchise and what happens in everyday life that gets documented My work often deals with this very particular hysteria that comes from white femme representation and privilege, so this piece was an opportunity for me to talk about that at a larger scale.

GM: This August, you had a joint exhibition with John de Leon Martin at Human Resources. Why did you two decide to collaborate together?

CK: I’d known John De Leon Martin for years on the Internet, and the curator of the show, John Bertle, and I have followed each other for a while. I went to a recent show of de Leon Martin’s and met him for the first time, and John Bertle was there. He watched us interact, thought about our work, and said we were a great match. What connects me and de Leon Martin is the collage making process John considers himself a collage artist, even though he’s also a painter We’re two signs of a very similar coin and both have this particular sense of humor. John is really interested in fantasy and video games, and I’m into hyper pop culture and femme culture. We’re also both interested in sexuality, his from a queer male perspective and mine from a cis-hetero one [ ] I have a physical drawing practice, but I thought that having this video collage process alongside John’s painting collage process [would show] alternate versions of what collage can be It’s not about cutting out a magazine and putting [the pieces] together. I thought that would be an interesting pairing, and [I also wanted] to see how I could physically integrate my work into his, which is why I had all these video collages on tablets and iPhones. I thought it was a great show and it was wonderful to see our work together! Tons of respect for both John’s

Photo by Evan Walsh

GM: Your Instagram handle is @uncannysfvalley, and I was wondering what you think of the “Uncanny Valley” theory by Masahiro Mori, which translates to bukimi no tami (the valley of eeriness) in Japanese.

CK: I saw Jordan Wolfson’s Femme Figure (2014) on Tumblr, alongside the definition of “Uncanny Valley.” This idea of “Uncanny Valley” is the discomfort of seeing an animatronic figure and its connection to human representation. I use that term is because I’m showing a digital reflection of my emotions and testing the level of discomfort that comes from that. Even in 2014, I understood that my work was really about things that were deeply personal, difficult, and challenging to me. I was digitally manifesting those emotions through other figures and seeing what kind of discomfort was generated. The “sf” in between the phrase is because I’m from the San Fernando Valley and it’s a direct reference to that.

GM: Any thoughts on NFT’s and web3?

CK: I really think that my work would do well in the NFT universe, but I can’t really figure out how to break into it. Any technological development seems to come with this promise of democratization. […] The beginning of Internet art came with this post-human and post-body idea, but it’s not possible because all of these things are made with the ingredients of this oppressive life. You can’t have a post-body world when all the constricting parts of this world become a part of the Internet. I think that NFT’s and web3 come with the promise of democratization, but it’s still an elitist practice that is only accessible to the people who already have that knowledge, such as tech bros I just feel like everyone I talk to that asks me about NFT’s don’t know what they are! (Laughs) It’s very smart people who say that they don’t fucking get this, and I understand what it means, but I also think that there’s so much of it that is inaccessible. It really serves the people who are already there. It’s not something that’s easy to break into, and I don’t see it being sustainable. I think that it unfortunately functions the same way that selling art does. (Continued)

Casey Kauffmann, Who Is She, 2020. Photo by Jackie Castillo

CASEY KAUFFMANN

I think that it unfortunately functions the same way that selling art does. It’s a system for money laundering. (Laughs) But would I like to sell NFT’s and make a bunch of money? For sure! There’s a side of it that is really positive because it’s really hard for digital artists to figure out how to make a living when they have a nonobject practice, so if anyone out there wants to help me with my NFT career, fucking do it! (Laughs)

GM: What are you currently working on in your practice?

CK: I’m working with Times Square Arts to create a piece for Midnight Moment that’s going to be shown in Times Square in February, which is really exciting. They have been so lovely to work with. I have been making a lot of work that is an expanded version of gif work. [The show at Human Resources] inspired a lot of small projects that function in the same way as silent videos that loop I’m really hoping to get back into the integration of my drawing practice and my digital work, which is something I did in grad school. I end up getting stuck into this digital video art realm, but I really identify as an interdisciplinary artist. I have some video work that’s going to be screened in public spaces in France for The Showcase part of L’Unique, but after the quarter ends at UCSD, I’ll sleep for a minute and binge old episodes of Housewives. (Laughs)

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. It took place in November 2022.

Casey Kauffmann, #meanicelady, 2020

Casey Kauffmann, #zoomzoombinch, 2017

MAYA JUNE MANSOUR

Courtesy of Maya June Mansour

Maya June Mansour is a photographer and writer originally from Nashville, Tennessee with roots in Black America, Palestine, and Iran. Maya's background in carceral studies and familial lineage informs her approach to image making and representation of herself and others. Her current body of work explores the intersection of embodied spirituality and sexual violence. Maya is one of the co-founders of Black Image Center, a community photography space in Los Angeles that redistributes the resources from the creative and entertainment industries in Hollywood to LA’s Black residents.

GM: What was your path to becoming a photographer?

MJM: I always loved taking photos, but it’s really my mom that stands at the beginning of my path to becoming a photographer. She noticed my desire to take photos at a young age and encouraged it, from giving me cameras and film to signing me up for photography classes at the local art college in Nashville, where I grew up. I always had a disposable or a toy camera with me, and in high school one of my friends gave me a Cannon AE-1 that to this day I still shoot most of my work on. When I was in high school, I started modeling professionally. Modeling exposed me to a lot of different photographers and styles of photography, and additionally made me intimately understand nuances of the relationship between a photographer and the person they’re taking a photo of. I credit modeling with giving me a lot of the skills that I use as a photographer today.

When I went to college, I studied the American carceral system, along with the history of the art market through the lens of Indigenous makers. I didn’t take a lot of photos during that time, but I came back to photography the year after I graduated from undergrad. I was living in Chicago and spent a lot of time at Central Camera. During that time, I took a class that was based on The Photographer's Playbook at this really amazing community photo space, LATITUDE. LATITUDE changed the game for me because of how accessible their offerings were, and is the inspiration for a lot of my work at Black Image Center, a community art space that I co-founded after I moved to LA. After the pandemic hit, I started slowly taking more photos and putting myself out there as a “photographer”, even though I have really been a photographer all along.

Maya June Mansour, Eleonor and Fabian, 2022

Maya June Mansour, Olivia, 2018

GM: Could you discuss your involvement with the Collective for Black Iranians? You recently worked on a project titled “Golden Crown” (2021) with them.

MJM: The Collective for Black Iranians is a much-needed call to integrate historically marginalized Black voices into SWANA discourses, specifically in the context of Iran. I worked with Priscillia Kounkou Hoveyda, one of the founders of the Collective, to tell part of my family’s story through “Golden Crown”, a short film that she directed and produced. Priscillia asked me to gather some family photos; it was a really wonderful experience to be able to share about both of my lineages in a way that felt full and whole. The Collective is doing really important work around sharing what’s going on Iran right now during the ongoing revolution, and I would recommend their Instagram page, @collectiveforblackiranians, to anyone interested in keeping up with what is happening on the ground.

GM: As you mentioned earlier, you co-founded the Black Image Center, an artist collective that now has a brick-and-mortar space. What has been your experience working with this group, and can you discuss any recent projects you’ve done with them?

MJM: Black Image Center was founded in the summer of 2020, in the midst of the racial reckoning after the murders of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor. All of the co-founders are young, Black image makers based in LA. (Continued)

I discovered the group on Instagram in the very early days of the project, when it was essentially just an idea with a GoFundMe. For the last three years, we have each poured so much love and care into growing Black Image Center into a brick-and-mortar community art space that hosts events, workshops, and programming that supports Black photographers and storytellers. We are also really intentional to offer things that folks who don’t consider themselves photographers can participate in, like our Heirloom portrait sessions with Julien James and our Black Family Archive sessions, where folks can get their family photos digitized and reprinted on a sliding scale.

GM: You were recently selected for the 2022 Google Image Equity Fellowship; the award states that: “The Fellows will each receive $20,000 in unrestricted funds to create an image-based project that explores and uplifts communities of color.” What themes or topics are you looking to explore through this fellowship, and what are you interested in doing for your project?

MJM: For my project, I’m working on a series of self-portraits that explore themes of healing embodied sexual trauma, spirituality, and anger!

GM: Are there any contemporary or historical photographers that inspire your practice?

MJM: I spend a lot of my time at Black Image Center working with people’s family archives, and I’m continually inspired by Black folks’ ability to tell our own stories through our family records. We are truly rich with these images, [which are] visual acts of resistance against a world that doesn’t often deem us as being worthy of preservation. Some of the most amazing photos I’ve seen are taken by dads and aunties whose names I don’t know and who don’t consider themselves to be photographers. Those unrestricted, intimate captures spark a lot of inspiration for me. They also give me hope that my descendants will see value in the visual language that I’m building now because of the interactions that I’ve had with so many folks who are working really hard to preserve their family photos that were taken long before they were born.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. It took place in December 2022.

Maya June Mansour, Compton Cowboy, 2022

STAR MONTANA

Star Montana (b. 1987, Los Angeles, CA) is a photo-based artist who lives and works in Los Angeles. She holds an MFA in Art from the University of Southern California, a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Photography from the School of Visual Arts, New York, and an Associate of Arts in Photography from East Los Angeles College. She was born and raised in the Boyle Heights neighborhood of East Los Angeles, which is predominantly Mexican American and serves as the backdrop to much of her work. Montana has had solo shows at The Main Museum (2017) and Vincent Price Art Museum (2016) Her work has recently been exhibited throughout Los Angeles at Night Gallery (2021); Charlie James Gallery (2022, 2019, 2016); Residency Art Gallery (2018); LA Plaza de Cultura y Artes Museum (2018); Occidental College (2017); The Mexican Center for Culture and Cinematic Arts at the Mexican Consulate General of Mexico (2017); and Ballroom Marfa, Texas (2017). Montana was an artist-in-residence at Self-Help Graphics & Art, Los Angeles and the Robert Rauschenberg Foundation, New York in 2021. Her work is in the collection of the Amon Carter Museum of American Art, Fort Worth, TX, and LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art).

Courtesy of Star Montana

GM: What was your path to becoming an artist?

SM: Even when I was little, I was always interested in image making and thought about what made me want to be an artist. When I was in middle school, I thought the only way you could be an artist was that by doing figurative drawing. My teacher told me that [because] I couldn’t draw, I wouldn’t be able to be an artist. That really destroyed me, so I gave up on art. [Some teachers] think about [art] in terms of a [grading] rubric, and that’s just not what art is. […] A lot of my family has died before I was born, so the only way that I could imagine, understand, or be related to them is through imagery. I started taking pictures with disposable cameras when I was a teenager, and then a friend of mine who was studying photography at East Los Angeles College showed me her work. She had put all of her projects [in her room], and I said, "Wow, this is amazing!" and that I wanted to [be a photographer]. She told me that I could and that community college was open to anybody. It was really inspiring and coincided [with what I was doing] because I was at continuation school and they said that I could get extra credits at community college. I started taking photography classes [in my second semester], and I actually failed my first photo class. Not due to skill, but because my teachers were biased and didn’t understand my images. [My work] was all what my life was reflecting at the time; it was still about street life and my community, which was a lot of my friends [in the] the punk scene, and my cousins, family, and their gang life. If [my teachers] said, “Take a landscape photo” and I took a landscape of East Los Angeles, or a portrait of my cousin with gangs –

GM: Ah, I get it. They didn’t understand because their perception of a landscape is biased. They probably wanted you to take a photograph of the mountains or the beach

SM: Yeah, so I failed [that class] because it was basically systemic racism. But I didn’t stop trying, and that was the projection of my career. I always tell people that I’m very tenacious, I never give up, and not even just with art, but anything. I’ve met a lot of people along the way that have given up [for various reasons] – systemic racism, disability, money, or having to [take care of] their family. I have a lot of these issues too, but I just keep going.

GM: Several of your photographs center on family, such as The Earth Cries for Louisa (2019) and Louisa, Homegirls, and Homeboy (2019). Why is this such an important subject matter for you? There seems to be a focus on Louisa specifically – is she your mother or grandmother?

SM: Louisa was my mother. She passed away in 2010 when she was 49 because of systemic medical failures. She was a recovering drug addict and had been clean for twenty-one years. Even if she was a recovering drug addict at the end, she had a scarlet letter on her and the health care system [felt a] need to erase her by constantly denying her health care. She was diagnosed with Hepatitis-C when she was thirty-seven, and I remember she told me that she just cried [upon receiving her diagnosis]. Her friends who had been heroin users in the seventies also started getting diagnosed at the same time. It’s kind of an HIV/AIDS epidemic that we’re not talking about. I’ve gone to about twenty funerals due to both the pandemic and so many of my mother’s friends passing away due to Hepatitis-C. [Louisa] tried to do chemotherapy for her liver, but that didn’t work. She should’ve been on a liver transplant list, [but the health care system] refused to put her on one. My mother believed they did that because she had been a heroin addict. She was given a death sentence because of what she had been, and I would always tell that she didn’t deserve to die because of her mistakes. But she would always [insist] that I didn’t understand, and that you can’t afford to make mistakes because the government will never let you forget it. She had gotten her first felony and gone to prison because someone said that she and her friends had kidnapped them. The prosecutors didn’t have evidence, but because she and her friends were gang members, they threatened them with longer sentences if they did not plead guilty and accept felonies. After that, she said it was so much easier to get other felonies. When I make work about my mother, it’s not just personal but also universal. The system wanted to erase both her and my family. It’s systemic genocide, and when I acknowledge my family and make work about them, I always say their names because it’s now out there forever. It’s one resistance against systemic erasure.

Star Montana, Louisa, Homegirls, and Homeboy, 2019

MONTANA

GM: As people of color, we don’t talk enough about how we don’t deserve this shit. Unfortunately, once the bigger powers have you in that system, they will not leave you alone.

SM: Older generations are conditioned to believe that they deserve [systemic violence]. I would constantly remind my mother that she did not deserve that, and I know I don’t deserve that treatment, as a woman of color that’s poor and disabled. I remember talking to my maternal aunt before she passed away; she was homeless and had a mental illness, and she said, “We can’t talk about these things, we have to keep them secret.” And I said, “Don’t you understand, that’s what makes us sick! Keeping these secrets and thinking that we deserve these things.”

GM: In November 2021, your first mural, East LA Landscape (2021), was permanently installed at the Restorative Care Village at the County Hospital. What was the inception for this project, and how was it selected to hang at the hospital?

SM: Four years ago, a county-wide call [was announced for the project], so I applied, even though I was hesitant. I was interested in this site because it has a lot of historical traumas that are tied to my family. [The mural] is for people that are rehabilitating with mental illness/health I very much understand that because I suffer from mental illness, and I’m very candid about that. There were guidelines provided – you couldn’t use the color red or put any people that have direct eye contact because it triggers people. I want to know all this because I’ve had really bad moments with my mental health I have PTSD and major depression, and I’m really emphatic to people who are bipolar or schizophrenic. I know how hard it is when they’re in their bad episodes. [The mural] shows everything going on within East LA, Boyle Heights, and all the way to Downtown. (Continued)

Star Montana, The Earth Cries for Louisa, 2019

The place where I photographed [the image] is on top of the city terrace. It’s a place that I like to go to be meditative and escape all the madness of the city. When I was first starting [my practice], I liked to get on top of the rooftops on Boyle Heights and take pictures like that because I felt like I was trapped and couldn’t go anywhere. For somebody that is going there and passes by [the mural], it might be a meditative act where you feel like you’re outside the city. I didn’t go to a museum until I was twenty because there was no access for me. The first time that I ever really saw art was public art at the doctor’s office and on the bus or the train. I hope that this [project] helps somebody that’s passing by and that there’s a change in what is selected as public art.

GM: I hope [your mural] provides some solace and peace to someone who might need that. It’s really powerful how art can evoke an emotion out of you, and I’m sure your project has brought that to several people who have seen it.

SM: When I was seven, one of the first times I went there was when my mom’s friend drove me around because I couldn’t go into the ER. I remember feeling really dizzy because we weren’t sure if my uncle, who was seventeen at the time, had been murdered. I remember the Jack in the Box head, and we were driving in a circle. She kept telling me it was going to be okay, but then we picked up my mother and grandmother. They were pale, and I thought, “He’s dead. There’s no way he’s alive based on how they look.” So, for me to go back and do this piece, after so much suffering – I never like going there, but now there’s a little bit of healing there.

GM: It’s beautiful that you were able to take this really traumatic experience and work your way through that in order to create something that could help someone possibly going through a traumatic experience – whether they’re going to this place, similarly to you, or are admitted to this place, and they need the help. It all comes full circle. […] You recently collaborated with artist Sean Maung on a special edition zine, On This Side (2022). Why did you two decide to work together, and what is the content that was presented in this project?

Star Montana, East LA Landscape, 2021

SM: I love Sean’s work and think that he is super underrated in the [larger] art world. There’s the photography world, where we all talk to and know each other. Sean does zines and collabs with a lot of people; he’s really appreciated in the underground photo and zine worlds. He’s been doing this for fifteen years and does a lot with street life, which I appreciate because that’s how I got started. He works with a lot of femme artists and photographers, and I really appreciate his energy and how he talks. He suggested we do a zine together; I’ve never done one, even though people would tell me to. It’s just that the opportunity hadn’t come and I haven’t self-published anything. He helped me and we collaborated on this; when I sold my copies, a lot of the art world was really excited and wondering who Sean is. But the photo world knows who he is, so it’s really interesting how people tend to still think that photography doesn’t exist in the art world. It’s really weird in that way. I feel like if photographers don’t fit into certain bubbles – like if we don’t get our MFA’s we “don’t count”, but not all of us go into one trajectory [Sean and I] have had so many conversations and we’ve known each other for five years. I’ve loved his work for longer [than that], so to have the opportunity to collaborate with him and send him work was cool.

GM: In September 2022, you debuted a photographic series for The Los Angeles Times, who states that you were “spending the hottest months as an immunocompromised person existing in isolation.” How did this project materialize over the COVID-19 pandemic, and what is the subject matter of the photographs?

SM: As an immunocompromised person, I’m very isolated. For the first eighteen months of the COVID pandemic, I rarely saw my family. [If I did it was] through a car window and we wore masks. It was extremely lonely, [especially because] my family is a big part of my projects. I have a small group of friends, so to not really see them either was insanity for me. (Continued)

Star Montana, Star in the middle of the water, 2022

I wanted to document what does it mean to be an immunocompromised person in the summer; I suffer from major depression during those months due to past trauma. Sometimes that means being in the house a lot of the time, or going to Little Tokyo in Downtown LA early on a weekday when it’s really empty. [These are] photographs of me in these spaces that might be really crowded later in the day or on the weekend, but instead it’s just me in these isolated moments If you’re an LA native, you wonder if the place is always busy, but if you’re immunocompromised, or can’t be around people, or are just an isolated person, you have to navigate it. It’s not just taxing on the body, but also the mind, because I can only go on certain days and at certain times to avoid crowds. It’s so emotionally taxing in those ways too, and [this project is] really setting up the camera and thinking what does this mean [for me], because I’m always emotionally thinking and navigating these mazes. If I want to do this or if I want to go this place, because if I mess up, this could mean death for me. [My partner and I] went to Hawaii for my cousin’s wedding, and I caught COVID on the plane during the return trip. I was really sick, super isolated for ten days, and really scared. My partner had already caught COVID earlier in the month I photographed my experience because being alone in different spaces is really somber in that I can’t really enjoy existence in a normal way. I have to really push everything away; even when I go to art exhibition openings, I always try to go to the first half hour or hour because I know everyone hates going at the beginning. That means that I will not see most people, I always go with a mask on, and I go [through it] really quickly. If I start to see too many people, I say goodbye because I can’t stay for too long. I will converse with people, but then I have to go, which means that I have no social life. I have to apologize to a lot of people because I can’t go to their openings, but I can’t risk my life. So, I show that in the pictures; it’s a lot of emptiness, but the mission statement of it is how for me and a lot of immunocompromised people, we’re being left behind and forgotten. I think all the time that when I’m gone and my work just remains, it [represents] the act of not being forgotten. With these images, you can’t forget me.

Star Montana, Star alone at Starbucks in Downtown LA, 2022

Star Montana, Star creating work at the San Gabriel River, 2022

GM: What are you currently working on in your practice?

SM: By the Rivers, I Stood and Stared into the Sun (2019 – Ongoing) was my MFA thesis show, but it’s actually a body of work that I’ve been thinking about for ten years. It started with these ideas of archival images – what does the archive mean, and can I use the archive as my own? I’ve been trained as a straight photographer, meaning you take the images and don’t alter them in old-fashioned or conceptual ways. I thought about incorporating the archive and being more conceptual, which is why I went to grad school. I wanted to [continue the project], which really thinks about water, migration, and death. My family migrated from El Paso to Los Angeles, and I realized that they had always stood by water. We were by the LA River in Boyle Heights; there’s this idea of upward mobility, meaning that my family had always aspired to go east. Upward ability for Mexican Americans was to go east and to the cities after East LA. [My family] was near the San Gabriel River, which [supported] the first people of the land here. The Los Angeles River was not reliable; it would swell sometimes and would be a little stream. The Gabrielino River was always consistent, so I realized that my family had lived in El Monte, right by the Whittier Narrows. I tracked the different places where they had been and photographed these bodies of water. All of these rivers are now polluted because of man-made irrigation [systems] that try to unsuccessfully tame water. I’ve also photographed myself near these waters because most of the people in my family have passed away, so I use myself as a stand-in for the deaths in the family. I also went to New Mexico and tracked the Rio Grande, which was really beautiful In my first iteration [of the project], I only went to El Paso and tracked the [family] origins with the water, so I’m really interested in [expanding] that.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity. It took place in November 2022.

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