The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, April 21, 2021 — 7
Content Warning: sexual assault
Gisela McDaniel grew up in
predominantly white spaces: She was
born on a military base in Bellevue,
Neb., to a Chamorro mother who was
a sociology professor teaching race and
ethnicity and a white father enlisted
in the Navy. On a recent Monday
afternoon, the Art & Design alum
spoke about how being raised with a
pervasive awareness of her Indigenous
heritage transformed her approach to
painting.
Rather than becoming fixated on
the crosscurrents of the art world and
its western preference for flattening
its subjects into fetishized objects
of beauty, McDaniel said she has
always seen her artistic process as an
opportunity to break the silence and
amplify marginalized stories.
McDaniel said that from the
moment she started creating, she
reformulated color as a place where
a body in exile could emerge while
talking back to the viewer.
“I really don’t like to focus on the
violence in these stories because I think
that’s done enough,” she said in an
interview with The Daily. “Especially
in art, we see these violent moments
painted but it’s not about that. What
I’m so interested in is how people move
forward and how people are resilient
through these events.”
McDaniel says she first used the
language of art to articulate and
anatomize her life experiences. This
extends all the way back to her girlhood
in Cleveland, Ohio, where she says she
“struggled with language growing up.”
“The words would kind of get
stuck,” she told me.
And yet, from the first moment that
McDaniel began tracing her own form
as a child — she described this seminal
self-portrait as “strangely accurate” —
her mother perceived a shimmering
talent. Art, she told me, was her first
form of communication.
McDaniel took studio art classes
in high school, initially focusing on
figure drawing. She said she chose the
University of Michigan for a Bachelor
of Fine Arts in Art & Design in 2014
because she preferred the idea of a
research university setting. More than
anything, she said, she yearned for the
intellectual space to examine what she
was making her work about.
McDaniel’s examination of herself
through her work would eventually
serve to transform a pivotal, painful
point in her life in a different direction
— when she was a sophomore studying
abroad, she was sexually assaulted
and, in the aftermath of the event, she
struggled to paint.
“It was the first time I couldn’t paint
for months after it happened. (It) took
my form of communication away,” she
told me.
Gradually, however, her work
became a mode through which she
could make unspeakable stories legible
again. She says that it was the artistic
process that emerged from the event,
and not the event itself, that was pivotal.
***
Speaking through the paint —
McDaniel says her current process
arose from social interactions within
the Detroit community, where she
moved shortly after her assault. She
began making figure drawings of
friends and acquaintances who chose
to share their own stories of sexual
assault. She also started maintaining
the audio footage of her subjects’
stories.
“I’m really interested in creating
these portals where (my subjects) can
speak through,” McDaniel said. “I had
a sensor embedded in the surface of
the painting. And when you stepped
within like three feet, (the painting)
would talk to you. So the story would
start to speak. You can’t enter the
personal space of the painting without
hearing that sound, or hearing that
person’s voice or their story.”
In this, she seemed to say that healing
defies codification and 2D spaces. “You
go in your cocoon, and you become
something else,” she said, referring to
the forms of personal growth that can
emerge from wrenching experiences.
From there, we talked about how
the Missing and Murdered Indigenous
Women
campaign
has
raised
awareness of elevated rates of sexual
violence against Indigenous Women
and how much more prevention is
needed. On the island of Guam, where
McDaniel’s family is from, the problem
has reached astonishingly high levels:
There are 62.4 reported sexual assaults
for every 100,000 people, while the
national average hovers around 25.2
per 100,000.
“To be able to talk about these
things, and for it to not be scary or sad
or for it to be trauma porn but, for it to
just be (about how) this happens to so
many of us,” she explained. “It’s almost
not even our responsibility anymore,
and that’s why I put the audio in.”
She said that rather than prioritizing
personal achievements, she chooses to
put her community first by recording
intergenerational stories and starting
conversations.
For
example,
she
described the process of painting a
friend whose family is Navajo. The
friend had grown up with her mother
and grandmother on the reservation
but had recently left to work with a
Catholic missionary in Cleveland, Ohio.
“The grandmother, the daughter
and the granddaughter came up
and we had a three-generation
conversation because they wanted to
record their story,” she said. “I guess
that’s a really clear example of … how
urgent it is to make sure we don’t lose
our histories.”
***
Reclaiming the palette — When
McDaniel was at the University, a
professor compared the palette she
uses to Paul Gauguin, a French Post-
Impressionist painter. This inspired
her to delve into the history behind his
work, and after learning more about
the problematic and sometimes non-
consensual ways he interacted with his
oftentimes female subjects, Gauguin’s
memory did not sit right with her.
“(Knowing) how he interacted
with women and Tahiti, and that he
had married a 13-year-old girl, and
like gave all these people diseases and
all these things. There’s so much lack
of consent in his process,” she said.
“People are attracted to the colors …
but it doesn’t feel like they were his to
paint.”
Seeing Gauguin’s fetishization of
Pacific Islanders inspired McDaniel
to turn the process and portrayal of
painting portraits on its head. She told
me that this is in large part a response to
how colonialism has inflicted ongoing
damage on her family’s home country
of Guam.
“In Guam right now, there is a
military base on the north of the island,
and they’re currently trying to build
this firing range over all of our sacred
lands that used to be our family’s land,”
she said.
In response to this, her art becomes
her protest. For McDaniel, part of this
protest comes from objects selected by
her subjects that clue us in to their life’s
story. McDaniel told me that the objects
are often pieces of jewelry passed
down through matrilineal lines, even
sometimes coming from other subjects
who have donated jewelry to her studio
in Detroit. These objects and the stories
they represent infiltrate her paintings.
“There’s always something in the
work that is giving you hints about
who this person is,” she said. “And that
person might be the only person who
knows that story too … But it means
something for them, to be able to look
at it and be able to recall that memory
because that’s in history now.”
In a way, the voices of subjects who
are portrayed in McDaniel’s work fuse
with paint on the canvas to become an
enduring hybrid language.
As I looked at McDaniel’s paintings,
and the objects in them, I felt her
subjects were transported into my
apartment through another language
running between the avenues of my
heart. I became enraptured by the
object’s rivulets of color and texture. It
felt like heat seeping into my room. It
felt electric.
I estimate that I received the
equivalent of several college lectures
in no less than one afternoon from
McDaniel. As a riveting, unequivocal
intellectual in her own right, her
approach to language, history and
violence leave me feeling as if she is a
gift from the future — spilling over with
what will be possible tomorrow.
McDaniel
is
currently
in
a
group exhibition at the Museum of
Contemporary Art Detroit called “Dual
Visions,” and will soon be presenting
work in another Midwest exhibition
titled “The Regional,” opening at MOCA
Cleveland and the Contemporary Art
Space in Cincinnati. Finally, she will
be having a solo exhibition with Pilar
Corrias in London in the fall, with a date
to be confirmed later this week.
Author’s
note:
The
fight
for
Indigenous land and water in Guam,
referred to by McDaniel in this article, is
known as Prutehi Litekyan.
Responsibility is not a trait I
typically associate with creativity,
but to Easha, a 20-year-old singer-
songwriter, it is everything.
“It’s definitely a discipline thing,”
she said in an interview with The
Daily. “I think as soon as you name
yourself anything, like, as soon as you
name yourself, like, I’m an artist, or
like, I’m a writer, it comes with the
responsibility of … literally just doing
it.”
Every day, she writes songs.
Whether these come from a quick
flash of inspiration, or her building
it from the melody up, she works to
keep at it. “Creativity … people say
it’s like a muscle,” she told me, one of
those classic truisms that seem trite —
except for the fact that it’s an accurate
and difficult rule to keep. People who
stick to a creative regimen deserve a
little cliché now and then.
Easha has found an audience
for her creativity largely through
social media. Her sound is dreamy
and nostalgic, starting out mostly
on guitar but taking on a bedroom
pop sound in production. Her top
song, “Dying Is a Beautiful Thing
to Do,” has over a million hits, after
gaining popularity on TikTok and
Instagram. Among her fans are well-
known artists like Jacob Collier and
Lizzy McAlpine — their attention
was something she admitted to
freaking out about when it first
happened, especially since they both
followed her Instagram on the same
day.
“I was like, ‘What the fuck?’” she
said. The moment of being able to
tell her friends that someone famous
followed her was a landmark memory
for the Stanford University student.
Easha returns to the theme of
responsibility while discussing her
audience. “I think that you have a
responsibility to yourself as an artist
to, you know, bring your ideas to life,”
she reflected. “Especially now that
I kind of have an audience, I do want
to, like, feed them,” she said, giggling
slightly.
However, she maintained that she
did not keep her fans in mind when
writing songs. “I think it’s almost a
disservice to them as well, because
… they put their trust in me.” This is
certainly a point worth considering
as she grows in popularity: Staying
true to the music she made before the
fans started to accumulate is another
cliché that is also true, and more
difficult than it sounds.
One particular question I had
was about the title of her breakout
single, “Dying Is a Beautiful Thing
to Do.” At first glance, it seems
controversial from a mental health
standpoint. It was popularized on
platforms like TikTok, where many
go to openly discuss their mental
diagnoses. However, upon listening
to the lyrics, one hears “Dying is a
beautiful thing to do / By your side.”
Her breathy delivery draws out the
romance intended when writing the
song.
Easha talked about how she
learned from other writers about “a
hook” — the twist that catches you
off guard, something clearly used
in this song. While a love tune is not
what you expect after reading the
title, the dreamy style of the popular
piece
integrates
the
romance
throughout.
It’s easy to forget with all of her
success that Easha is still in her
freshman year of college. She spent
a gap year in Nashville gigging,
performing and making connections
until it was cut short by the
pandemic. The transition from the
Nashville audience to the online one
was abrupt.
Easha: A responsible TikTok
creative to watch
Artist Profile: U-M alum Gisela McDaniel and the language of art
Read more at
MichiganDaily.com
SIERRA ÉLISE HANSEN
Daily Arts Writer
ROSA SOFIA KAMINSKI
Daily Arts Writer
YOUR WEEKLY
ARIES
Focusing on what you value will
be productive this week, Aries –
and not only material values,
either. Move beyond money and
give your attention to the things
that truly matter.
AQUARIUS
GEMINI
Take a quiet few days at the
beginning of the week, Gemini.
The Sun and Mercury move into
your spiritual zone and encourage
rest, downtime and quiet
contemplation, so
withdraw from the
hustle and bustle if you
can.
SAGITTARIUS
CAPRICORN
SCORPIO
CANCER
You can expect to feel quite
sociable early on this week, with
the Sun and Mercury both moving
into your friendships zone. It’s a
good period for finding your
‘tribe’ and for getting
close to people who
share your interests and
values.
TAURUS
This is quite a powerhouse of a
week for you, with the Sun and
Mercury both moving into your
sign on Monday. You can now
showcase the very best of Taurus,
with your hard work,
dependability and
loyalty on full display.
VIRGO
PISCES
LIBRA
LEO
Career matters are on your mind
as the working week begins, Leo,
especially with both the Sun and
Mercury moving into your career
zone. Ambitions are running high,
and why not? This is a
good time for interviews
or job search activities.
Read your weekly horoscopes from astrology.tv
Fair play of all kinds is high up
your agenda this week. From
sorting out personal scores to
campaigning against injustice of
some kind, you are boosted early
in the week by the
arrival of the Sun and
Mercury in your justice
zone.
This looks set to be an emotional
and quite sensitive week for you,
Libra. The Sun and Mercury shift
into your intimacy zone – on the
one hand, this bodes well for your
relationship, but these
emotions are strong and
swirling, and there
could be conflict on the
horizon.
With the Sun and Mercury joining
Venus in your love zone on
Monday, the first part of the week
looks to be enjoyable, loving and
relatively calm – although the
Venus-Uranus conjunction
on Tuesday could bring
an interlude of drama.
The Sun and Mercury join Venus
in your everyday work zone on
Monday, making this a good week
for simply “getting stuff done”.
Catch up on your to-do list while
these helpful energies
are in play.
Get set for a loving and largely
light-hearted week. The Sun and
Mercury both move into your joy
zone on Monday, encouraging you
to indulge your creative streak
and to enjoy your hobbies
and past-times.
Exploring your past holds great
appeal this week, especially with
the Sun and Mercury arriving in
your past zone on Monday. Links
with your ancestors can be both
fascinating and spiritually
nourishing.
Keep your mind busy and active
this week. Boredom is a real risk,
especially with the Sun and
Mercury both arriving in your
intelligence zone on Monday.
Learn, research, do puzzles and
quizzes, debate with
friends – anything to
keep your mind sharp.
WHISPER
“Avoid the bustiers!”
“Class of 2021?”
“Class of 2021.”
“Just paddle that here.”
Gisela McDaniel and Pilar Corrias, London
Gisela McDaniel and Pilar Corrias, London
Rina Sawayama and Elton
John shine light on the
beauty of chosen families
Last week, Elton John and
British-Japanese
musician
Rina
Sawayama collaborated on a remix
of the track “Chosen Family,” a
queer anthem released in April
of last year on Sawayama’s debut
album, SAWAYAMA.
The two pop powerhouses
became unlikely friends following
Sawayama’s album release last
spring, when John named the
project his “favorite of the year”
on his Apple Music radio show,
“Elton John’s Rocket Hour.” Since
then, John has been supportive
of Sawayama’s efforts to broaden
the participation of non-British
citizens in the Brit Awards and
Mercury Prize competition, so it’s
unsurprising that the two have
finally collaborated musically.
The
pairing
may
seem
unexpected,
yet
despite
their
existence in two different eras of
pop, Sawayama and John mesh
surprisingly well. Both have taken
on a chameleon-like role in the
pop industry, successfully fusing
elements of R&B and rock into their
work, and earning critical acclaim.
Most importantly on “Chosen
Family,” both artists also share a
passion for supporting LGBTQ+
causes. Sawayama, who identifies
as both bisexual and pansexual,
and John, who is openly gay and
often been labeled a “queer icon,”
both have a considerable following
in the LGBTQ+ community. The
track’s focus on the topic of “chosen
families” feels especially intimate
given
their
tightly-knit
queer
fanbases.
The term “chosen family” signifies
a group of friends and non-blood
relatives who act as a makeshift
family for those with unaccepting
biological families. It’s a concept
prevalent in the queer community
and highlighted on TV shows like
“Pose,” which centers on drag ball
culture among the Black and Latinx
LGBTQ+ communities in 1980s New
York. In essence, the idea of a chosen
family pivots on the notion that, while
traditional family members may not
always be supportive of their queer
relatives, the queer community is
more than willing to step into the role
if need be.
With the constant passage of
anti-trans and anti-gay legislation
in the United States — in particular,
a bill allowing schools to inspect
the genitalia of student-athletes in
Florida last week — it’s clear that
just existing as a queer person is
an emotionally taxing experience.
When describing the purpose of
“Chosen Family,” Sawayama states,
“The concept of chosen family has
been long-standing in the queer
community because a lot of people
get kicked out of their homes and
get ostracized from their family
for coming out or just living true
to themselves. I wanted to write a
song literally for them, and it’s just a
message and this idea of a safe space
— an actual physical space.”
The
track
does
just
that,
promising the listener that they
“don’t need to share genes or a
surname” or “be related to relate.”
It’s sincere and uplifting, giving
the overall effect of a warm hug in
a world that is consistently hostile
toward queer people.
“Chosen Family” sounds like it
could be on a Disney soundtrack,
something
I
wouldn’t
usually
consider merit. Yet Sawayama and
John are so genuine on the track, it’s
hard to bear any ill will toward it. In
fact, the new recording feels just as
heartfelt as the original.
Instead of the spare techno
pulses of the album version, soft
piano accompaniment comes to the
forefront on the new release. John’s
vocals never rival Sawayama’s in
clarity and strength, but the pair’s
voices blend in such triumphant
harmony by the track’s conclusion.
It’s not a revolutionary reimagining
of the song, but with emotional
violin swells and tender lyricism,
“Chosen Family” is an important life
mantra wrapped in a honeyed pop
exterior.
“Chosen Family” doesn’t feel
gimmicky or cloying, likely because
it’s the collaboration of two artists
that actually belong to the queer
community (I love Taylor, but “You
Need to Calm Down” felt a little self-
serving).
In a New York Times interview
last week, Sawayama stated, “…
queering a space, that’s kind of
what I’m trying to do with music
by injecting a bit of an interest in
areas other than heterosexual love.”
There’s a sense of queer autonomy
on the track, which makes it all the
more empowering.
Sawayama and John bridge
two generations of queer pop on
“Chosen Family,” while reminding
us to surround ourselves with people
willing to give us unconditional love
and support no matter our identity.
NORA LEWIS
Daily Arts Writer