2 posts tagged art

PART ONE OF A TWO PART INTERVIEW 

Morty: I wanted to start by asking about the early moments in your life where you came to know how much you loved writing?

Ryka: My first inkling of this was in my childhood. I didnt have a great childhood, and I write about this a lot in my work. Writing became an escape and a place where…you know, there are no scars on the paper. It’s a fresh start, it’s beautiful. Where some people see the blank page as a question, or as a challenge I’ve always seen it as a haven, as a place where I can escape to. I’ve always had that. In college, I was pushed into the sciences, hence my bachelors degree in chemistry. My parents did not want me to be an English major one bit. I would be taking a chemistry class and on one side of the page was chemistry stuff and on the other side was poetry. But…something pushed me to apply to MFA programs, even though I knew I had absolutely no chance. Within three years of applying, I got in.

Morty: So, it was scary to move away from what your parents wanted for you?

Ryka: Oh my god, yeah. I mean, I was shaking, I had a bit of a breakdown. I worked a little bit as a lab rat but I hated it. There was this voice inside me that said, “Just keep going, you know who you are.” And eventually, if you’re lucky, you have the wherewithal to move…and I was very lucky.

Morty: Where did you get your MFA?

Ryka: At Cornell.

Morty: A very prestigious school…

Ryka: I know! The funny thing is, when I applied, I coasted into the Post Office with my 1983 Honda I paid 25 dollars for. The engine had just given out! And, as I was mailing it, I thought to myself, “Why am I here, I know I’m not getting in to Cornell”… but then I did! It was a lot of work but there was a lot of luck involved, too. Well, I always say you have to work really, really hard to get lucky because if you don’t then you bomb.

Morty: Defintely.

Ryka: At Cornell, I was still male. We didn’t even get to gender, I was the second Asian they had in the program! So, yeah, it was really wacky. It was also a very valuable experience and grounded me but was also a transition period. I still had a lot of work to do to become an honest to goodness writer in the real world. I mean an MFA doesnt give you that, it just gives you time. And some great connections, too.

Morty: So, what brought you from your MFA program to teaching?

Ryka: I’ve always loved to teach. And this might sound a little corny, but I truly believe this. When you’ve been a victim, you can do one of two things. You can either mimick the oppressor or you can turn around and say, “It stops here” and “I’m going to help others”. I suppose a part of it is..as a transwoman I’m never going to have a biological kid, and this kind of work feeds my maternal instinct but it goes beyond that. I know what its like not to have opportunities. I went to an ivy league college but I was the first one in my family to go to college! So, I’m going to go and get this information and share it with others. I don’t want to see anybody being left out. I don’t want anyone to feel that language isn’t their birthright. Also, when I’m teaching, I’m performing. I mean, think about it. I’ve got to be on stage for three hours entertaining 30 students and the material sucks because were covering subject verb agreement. So, if I can hold an audience for that long, I know that when I’m on the road performing my own work, I’ve got my chops up!

Morty: I also want to know, specifically, how you became a teacher. The process.

Ryka: Here is where Cornell and getting an MFA comes in.  For once, the good ol’ boy network worked for a queer woman of color. Knowing people, and being fortunate and luck. Connections. But it wasnt easy. I looked for work for two years and actually had to go back to chemistry for a little while before landing a job. So, even with my connections, it wasn’t easy.

Morty: So, along with writing, you always had this desire to be a performer as well? You were already writing and performing before you transitioned…

Ryka: When I began transition and started the process I realized it was a very big job and I understood I needed to not turn away from the things in my life that gave me strength. And writing was where I have always felt the strongest. My first time out as Ryka was on stage. I was at a Forward Girls showcase and they had asked me to perform. Outside of going to one or two bars, I had really never presented publicly. So, I made my debut as Ryka on stage in front of a bunch of people. And that was the most comfortable place for me to do it. I couldn’t have done it without that. For me, my work gave me a moment to process. On stage I’m processing, on stage I’m creating. Even when I’m reading a poem that I’ve already recited a bunch of times, when I’m with that audience I’m processing. I’m there. I cannot do it in any other way.

Morty: Your work facilitated the process and understanding of who you are, and were becoming…

Ryka: Yes, for sure. I knew that regardless of what I looked like on stage. How I presented, what my voice sounded like, how shaky I was… if the work was good the audience should receive it and should accept it and I knew how to control the work. You know, they could think I looked like a monster, like a man in a dress but they would have to see that I wrote a really fucking good poem. And that would get me up there. But it was fucking terrifying. I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen. But I did know that I put a huge amount of time in that poem and when I put the time into my work, good things happen.

Morty: What do you think about the trans arts? Does it feel too conforming to call yourself a “trans writer” or a “trans artist”?

Ryka: If I’m speaking as a trans artist, where I’m getting paid, it’s always a good thing. Where we can get stage time, get published and all those good things, we do it and hope that message gets through. That being said, I really cannot deny that I’m trans and I’m proud of what I’ve been through, but sometimes I would like to be called “a poet”. Because I don’t often say I’m a Japanese American writer, so I think there’s a balance that must occur. I think, also, the trans art scene is very important. Because the cis gendered community have a support system that is already in place. For the most part, their femininity or masculinity is not questioned and they can identify with each other. For trans people, we know how we identify, but we need to convince the world and, to a point, have to rid ourselves of internal transphobia. A lot of this hampers our self confidence. So, for trans artists to develop our self confidence we need our own models to point to how we want to be seen and that’s why its really important to be fostering our art scenes. It’s important, we need these spaces to grow. We cannot throw transitioning people out there and say “survive”. I mean, some of us can, those with exceptionally strong self images. And the best poets and their self images, they don’t always colate. Sometimes I see a trans person who needs a lot of help, a lot of support but when she finally ends up creating something, it’s beautiful. So, the trans art scene, to me, helps trans artists. But, more importantly, it is also making an investment in our voice by fostering this community. To go on with this: I don’t publish in too many Asian American anthologies but I am Asian. When I go to speak, for instance, at a reading for a basic literary magazine, my very prescence helps trans folks. There it is.

Morty: Would you introduce yourself as a trans artist to a group of, most likely, cis gendered, non queer, non trans crowd of individuals?

Ryka: In the writing world, many times I can’t tell them who I am. Much of the work being submitted is submitted blind. My name is the only identification.

Morty: Yes, but once you get selected. Now you’re on this stage…

Ryka: Oh, hell yeah! It’s always relevent to do so because they need to hear about you! So, if one person in the audience says “Hey, those trans people aren’t such freaks, I want to hear more, lets go see them!”, then it’s good. If who I am bugs you out then I have no interest in publishing with you. Sorry.

Morty: Yeah.

Ryka: You know how it is. When a woman comes up to me and says “Wow, I thought you were really hot, and then I found out you’re trans.” And I’m thinking to myself, ‘If you really feel that way then you’re a total idiot’. It’s the same with anthologies I’ve submitted to. You liked my work before you knew what was between my legs, now all of a sudden you don’t like it. Screw you.

Morty: I’m with you on being able to support and nuture other trans artists and be out there for other trans artists to see. To say “Hey, we’re here! And we’re doing work! Don’t be afraid to join us! Be who you are!” But, there are also moments where it can be tiring.

Ryka: The way I handle it is to not run away from the trans label, not to fight it, but to really explore it. I’m also a Judo instructor. And when there is an enemy that you cant move by pushing sometimes you have to pull and see what happens. So, it’s “okay, I’m trans.” but what does that mean? I don’t hate the trans label, I embrace and examine it. I find ways to defetishize the trans definition and go into the realm of human experience. As I come out that way, I’m hoping and trusting the audience that they see, I’m not talking about trans at all. I’m talking about how one person goes through this label that is forced upon her and uses it and works with it to create something artistic or, maybe even comes to some epiphany about the human experience. Then, at this moment, it is meaningful for anyone who is transforming: getting a new job, living in a new place, breaking up with someone. And they can take it as their own.  Many people say to me “Why do you do this, you pass.” but it’s not like that for me. I’m never going to pass as a non-trans writer. I don’t want to. But I’m also not going to make it a badge of hate. I’m going to take your expectations of me, address them, fuck with them and, in the end, take you off balance and teach you something.

Morty: So, how do you write? How do you get there?

Ryka: You get there in small steps. I get there by treating my writing like a job. I sit at my kitchen table and I write in the morning. Other people might not wake up two hours before they need to be anywhere but that isn’t how I work. I’m a writer and that’s just what I do. I’m really efficient in the morning. Whatever comes out, comes out. And if it’s not finished I just keep going. I see writing as a form of worship, too. I spend a certain amount of my day writing and reading. Once the process is in place the work will take care of itself. Then, once I have found what I believe to be the best work, I begin making drafts. I like the serenity of knowing, no matter how bad the day gets, that one part of the day is going to be a blank paper and pen and a moment, and it’s going to be good. Writing is not my adversary, it is my oasis.

Morty: What inspires you to write?

Ryka: The inspiration, for me, has always been the world around me. People…just watching portraits of life. Some are so vivid to me that I’ve got to go home and write about them. Of course, I do have bad days with writing. Which is why magazines like this are so important and community around you is so important. You need places to go and see other like-minded people and share and commiserate with them. Also, we need to stop being so competitive. Because, you know what, your success is my success and vice versa. Because, really, if you’re doing good work, someone will publish you, or, better yet, you can publish yourself! What I’m saying is, what gets you through the hard times is community and it makes me feel good knowing some trans artist somewhere is kicking ass right now. I can, for one night, be tired or doubt my skills because some other trans artist is being fierce. Competition can be good, but it has to be the kind that puts a fire in ourselves to make our own art, instead of dragging us down.

Artists have always formed ad hoc groups, that’s the way many of them work, instead of being endorsed by a large organization. There also needs to be more investment into the community. It’s always great to go to a show and say, “Yes, this stuff really inspires me.” But then you should go and put up a blog and write about it, tweet about it, make an active community. Don’t wait for others to make that community for you.

Morty: Perhaps a lot of trans people feel so disenfranchised that they don’t feel they can, or that they feel they posses a strong voice. Many might think, well, I’ll put something out there but nobody is going to look or pay attention.

Ryka: Sure, how many times have people said, “Nobody is going to pay attention, so we might as well fuck.” or “We might as well take drugs, nobody is looking anyway?” How come these behaviors are things that we do? Very few of us say, “Nobody’s looking, so I’m going to make this amazing art.” Why can’t we do it with that kind of energy? Nobody is looking anyway, we might as well form our own community.

You know, many of us don’t know how great we are, and it takes a long time to figure it out. We are the golden age, we just don’t know it. Fifty years from now people are going to look back and say, “Those people were fucking fierce, what the hell, why can’t we be like them!” The reason we can’t see it is because we’re at the epicenter. We’re making culture right now. Right now is one the best, most amazing times to be a trans artist. We are in the process of a genesis, this community, right now. I firmly believe this. There is a great creative explosion happening right now. We don’t think about it because we don’t have the time to think about it! And we all need to know this, all of us in the community need to understand that, yes, we are doing the work and making things happen.

Part two of this interview will be up next week!

To order Ryka Aoki’s new book, Seasonal Velocities, please click on the link: http://trans-genre.net/content/seasonal-velocities/

Simon Croft is a London based trans-man and visual artist with a particular interest in the rapidly evolving artistic expressions of the FtM trans experience and how they contribute to trans community and culture. He has exhibited in LGBT shows both in the UK and US, and also occasionally writes, curates and provides publicity images for other trans events.

NUTS by Simon Croft

 What brought you to begin work as a fine artist?

Transition, really.  I’d done nothing artistic since I was about 15.  Looking back at what I was doing artistically at that time, I was repeatedly drawing myself as a boy though I didn’t recognize it at the time!  Then I just stopped doing anything art based – I guess my art was telling me things I wasn’t ready to deal with.  I started making work again at around the time I transitioned about 13 years ago, to try and re-engage with my creativity and it was only five or six years after that, that I started explicitly working with trans themes and deliberately drawing on my trans experiences.

Side view - NUTS by Simon Croft 

Are you often, if ever, pigeonholed as a “trans artist”? If you are, does this bother you?

I describe myself that way.  I work with and from my trans experiences so in reality it’s a fair description.  I want to make work that speaks to other trans people; I’d like it to be seen more widely but I don’t know how realistic that is, at least for now.  I’m conscious that as and when I move on from working thematically in this way, I could be stuck with a label I don’t want, but at the moment it doesn’t bother me.  Ask me again in 5 years time, if I’m trying to paint landscapes or something!

HAIRSHIRT by Simon Croft 

 Being a trans identified person, how does this identity lend itself to being an artist?

Transition is a creative act – as are most other ways of trans-living.  Art is a good way to reflect on it.  It gives you something to say, a different perspective from most people; we see things many people never get to see and that’s quite a privilege. 

I also feel that living long term, it’s important to have a space to consider and value my transness, which will always be part of me – that’s very important to me. 

As well as creativity, transition involves risk – if you transition physically, you don’t know what’s really going to happen.  Changes to physical appearance, how you think and feel, relationships – it’s just not certain.  Pretty much everything is back in the melting pot.  At a certain point I just had to trust myself to handle whatever would come along when I made the choice to transition. 

I see taking risks and trusting yourself as part of making good art too.  Some of the ways I work parallel the transition process; I’ll set a process up – like dripping ink onto a cardboard house - and let it run and see what I get at the end.

Close up HAIRSHIRT by Simon Croft 

What words would you give to those out there who are interested in beginning their careers as artists?

That’s a difficult one! 

Find a way of working that fits with you and your life – whether that’s a little everyday or setting aside intensive bursts of time, or some other way – but make sure you deliberately set aside time and actually make work.

Take a look at the constraints you have to work with – usually time and space and funds - how can you make them work for you as opposed to blocking you?

Get your work seen – submit to shows and publications etc and get some feedback.

Be organized.  Making good art isn’t enough – you’ve got to have a whole load of other skills like self-promotion, negotiation (learn how to read a contract), fund-raising, admin (it’s no good missing the shipping deadline for a show).  As an artist starting out you have to do most things for yourself because you probably won’t be in a position to pay anyone else to do them for you, and that is likely to mean self-discipline to do the bits you don’t naturally take to.  Take a deep breath and don’t leave them to the last minute.

Probably the best tip is to read Michael Atavar’s book – ‘How to be an Artist’.  Someone suggested it to me and I revisit it quite often.

 Good luck, and don’t forget to have fun!!