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