a new place for interviews...

Hello all,

Over the past few years I have mainly been using this blog as an almost online magazine. I've been able to conduct interviews with creatives who I admire immensely, and it's been great having the opportunity to talk to such talented people. It's crazy how much the blog has grown over the past year, and I'm so thankful for all the friends and connections I've made through this little space.

But I've really missed having a personal blog, and although I occasionally post other things, it began to feel really chaotic with all the interviews mixed in with fashion/lifestyle posts. So I decided to launch another blog, Hype Zine, for my interviews. I plan to do everything exactly the same as before, just in a different area so this blog looks a bit cleaner. Hype is all about celebrating the people that I find inspirational and just giving myself the all-too-rare opportunity to talk positively about people I fully support. You can read more about the mission statement on the About page.

Interviews that were previously published on here will stay here, and I still plan to post interviews on here from time to time that fit more with my personal career goals and interests-- just not as much. I already have several interviews posted: chef prodigy Flynn McGarry, artist/designer Adam J. Kurtz, fashion designer/artist Joe Corre... check it out!

An Interview with Jake Silverstein

If I had to cite one magazine that most inspired me to go into the journalism industry, it would be The New York Times Magazine. I think I was initially drawn to the sort of brand name of The New York Times, but what really piqued my interest about the magazine in particular was that, as an extension of the newspaper but also a separate entity, it didn't really have to sell itself, which gave it a distinctive quality that enamored me.

When I visited New York this past summer (through the School of The New York Times no less), through relentless emailing, I had the chance to talk with Editor-in-Chief Jake Silverstein. Prior to taking over the magazine in May of 2014, Mr. Silverstein worked for The Big Bend Sentinel, a newspaper based in Marfa, Texas (and later published a partially ficticious memoir Nothing Happened and Then It Did based around the early years of his career). As an aspiring journalist living in a relatively small town, I was especially interested in getting his perspective on how small town newspapers differed from world-renowned publications.

Below we discuss how an issue comes together, what qualities a young journalist should develop, and the difference between having a lesser but direct impact as a journalist in small communities versus having a larger but more abstract influence working for a company as prestigious as the New York Times.

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First of all, I was wondering if you could describe the process of putting together an issue?

It's like a form of organized chaos really. There's not a straightforward routine that we use every time. Obviously, an individual story goes through the same sets of steps [every time]. It's edited, it gets sent to the photo department, or the art department to figure out what the visuals will be. It gets copy edited. It gets fact checked. It all gets put together, and then re-edited to make sure it's smooth and perfect and seamless. And then it's read a few more times after that. So that's just a standardized sequence that every single piece that's in the magazine-- no matter how large or small --goes through.

But as far as how all of those pieces come together into a given issue... it's not the case that we design issues really far in advance. We make assignments for stories in some cases very far in advance, and in some cases the very shortest would be 6-8 weeks in advance. And then we have this very big inventory of stories. And the inventory has some stories that are like ready to go, and some stories that are not quite ready to go, and some stories that are really not ready to go. They're all at varying levels of readiness. The fundamental fact of a weekly magazine is that you're just burning through you inventory all the time. It's very different from a monthly magazine in that way. And as we chug through the year, we're just kind of constantly grabbing what's ready in the inventory.

Usually it starts with what the cover story of the issue is, because obviously there are fewer of those than other kinds of stories, and an important part of the issue is what's going to be on the cover. So you kind of work outward from that. You don't want three or four politics stories in an issue. You want to have a nice balance. Often one big story that has to be in the issue, either because it's a cover story or because it profiled somebody that's pegged to like an album coming out or whatever, will start the process. And then we figure out what would pair well with that.

It's funny though because the thinking that goes into putting together an issue and figuring out what stories will be part of it is all very much about what makes a good print magazine, because, in print, they're all clustered together and turned into this package. Online, they just scatter completely. The same sort of thinking wouldn't really apply if we weren't focused on a print magazine. But we do still think about what's the right mix for the print magazine. That determines what goes out on a particular week.

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What draws you to the print magazine medium?

We're an interesting magazine because we're a part of a newspaper, and that's what makes us different from our peers at The New Yorker or Vanity Fair or any other big magazines. We're the only one that's part of a newspaper. It makes us different in a whole bunch of ways, one of which is that we're not on the newsstand, which is a huge, huge freedom that we try to take advantage of by running covers that aren't really commercial in nature, but might be creatively really interesting or visually very powerful.

But it also means that we're within an organization, The New York Times, that is rapidly transforming itself into a digital organization, as they should. For them, shedding the print product and really focusing entirely on the digital product makes a lot of sense because newsprint is purely a delivery mechanism. People have nostalgic attachment to it, but that's just because it's what used to exist. It's not because it's better than, like, a phone. If you want to get the latest Donald Trump story from The New York Times it's better to get it on your phone. There's no way around that.

But I don't know if that's true for magazines, because a magazine isn't just a single story, like we were talking about earlier. It's a package of stories. It's like, smaller ones in the front, and then you build to the big stuff. It's like a meal. It's designed in a certain way. The material product itself is special. It's on glossy paper, the photographs are reproduced very nicely. And if the magazine is big enough, it's perfect bound and it doesn't even have staples. It feels really, really lasting in a way that a newspaper never does. So, the value of a print magazine is a little different from the value of a print newspaper and it's not as easily surpassed by the value of a digital version of it. It's harder to throw aside the print magazine and embrace the digital future.

That said, obviously we are equally about our digital presentation as we are our print presentation. But we're a rare department in this building that still focuses very hard on print. The rest of The New York Times, it's a badge of honor if you don't really pay attention to print. I'm kind of exaggerating, but it's encouraged to put your emphasis on your digital product, and the print product is what they call downstream from digital. Here, we can't quite do that because the magazine has a certain special value in print that I think is likely to be there for some time.

All of that said, your question was what attracts me to the print product. I mean, I think it's some of the stuff I was just saying. It's that as a reader, when you're reading a package of stories in the print magazine, you get a real sense of who the editors are and what their sensibility is, how they pair things together, and how they think about how a reading experience might go out of casual small stuff in the front to bigger stuff in the middle. And when you just read an individual piece in a sea of content online, you don't have the same experience. You don't feel like somebody's created an experience. I often say that a good magazine experience is somewhat theatrical. It's like you're sitting down in a theater, and somebody is putting on a show for you. First they come out and they do a little small thing for you to get you comfortable, and then they like bring you the main attraction. That appeals to me as a reading experience, and it appeals to me as a type of product to create as well.

It's something that's fun to create, to think about the mix and to think about what balances well. Not just in editorial terms but in terms of art as well. We constantly talk about things, like if two of our stories in a given issue have two portraits of people on the beginning pages, we definitely need to have a third story that's got an illustration or that has an environmental shot of a landscape. Creating a package every week that's rounded, and varied, and feels complicated and complex is part of the fun of working in print media.

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You've experienced both extremes of the publication world. What are the good and bad sides to both?

The Sentinel is a small town newspaper that serves about 2400 people, at least at the time that I was working there. It had a really small newspaper staff. I was one of two reporters and then there was an editor basically. Because of that, we wrote all the stories ourselves. I would probably write five stories a week, and sometimes more. So that in and of itself was kind of interesting, just because there were not beats. You just did everything.

And also, it's not that the stakes were low. Obviously, in some ways, the stakes could not possibly be higher, because this was the news source for this town. But on the other hand, because of the size of the staff, there was no working your way slowly up before you got a break to cover the city council meeting. You were just thrown in the deep end every single week. It was always learn this, learn that. Learn about border patrol. Go down to Mexico and do a story about crime, immigration, what have you. There was just huge opportunity for a young journalist to learn about so many different aspects of, in this case, small town Texas life. I was 24 when I went there.

But I think what has stayed with me the most from that experience isn't so much the fast learning curve or the ability to write a lot of stories, but the relationship with the newspaper to the community it was a part of. You don't have the sense, when you're participating in producing The New York Times, that you're creating a paper that's for the people around you. I mean, it is, sort of. But it's such a crazy, huge, diverse town that it's not the same. And that's true for pretty much any place. Whereas, with the small town paper, you write something, and you're likely to see the person you wrote about at the post office the next day. For a journalist, that's a valuable lesson. Too often I think we imagine we write stories and publish them, and it's not that the subjects of the stories aren't real to us, but they're somehow far removed from our lives.

So starting out my career in Marfa and literally writing stories sometimes about touchy material, like, there was a drunk driving accident and some people got killed. You write that story up, and then the uncle of the person that was driving that car and was drunk is in front of you at the checkout line. Did you tell the story right? You better hope so, if you're standing next to the guy's uncle. And that was a really good lesson. Not just about sensitivity, but how important the newspaper or any type of media can be in a small community, or a large community, but you really see it at the level of a small community. You know how important it is for people to get information from that paper. It came out every Thursday, and people spent time on Thursday reading it. They would often come in to the newspaper office, buy the paper for fifty cents, and just stand around reading the paper. I think it's different now because there's more of a web presence than there was back then for the paper. But back then it was really like a moment for the week, everyone standing around reading the paper, and they'd be like 'ok, got the news!' That's something that really stayed with me.

And if you fast forward to here, obviously The New York Times is a completely different type of operation. The size of the platform is thrilling and exciting. You get to do a tremendous amount of stuff and the resources are off the charts. I think of this as the greatest job in journalism. There's no but in that sentence. It's not like I'm going to say "but I missed seeing my subjects in the checkout line." That's actually not the case. But I think that it is valuable to have that experience, and it does sort of inform, in some ways, the way I work here.

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What do you think is the most vital skill for a young journalist to develop?

Having a sort of combination of natural curiosity (which I imagine that anyone who at some point decides they want to be a journalist has), tenacity (like you're going to get the door slammed in your face but you're going to keep knocking anyway), and then also having an innate ability to know when you're being lied to. Or when you're being told 85% of the truth. Something like that. Because it's not that people are always going to lie to you, but people are always going to shade the truth when they're speaking to you.

I think one of the things that journalists who are really good at their jobs have is just this ability to be non confrontational with subjects, but deeply skeptical at the same time. Because if you're just an asshole, and you just go around accusing people of lying all the time, they're never going to talk to you. And obviously building trust with sources and subjects is a huge part of how you get good stories and good quotes and great moments and scenes and all of that stuff. But if you're too cozy with those people, then either you're willingly deciding to not press them for the truth, or you're just kind of a fool and you don't realize that they're soft pedaling stuff. So having the ability to both win people's trust but also maintain a level of necessary skepticism about what they're telling you, and push them further, and being able to combine that with a tenacious streak and an innate curiosity about the world, I think that's the magic combination.

Obviously, there's a huge number of technical skills that are necessary now and like personal brand building, but I tend to think that's secondary to the core qualities of being a good journalist. A really good journalist is somebody that has sort of a preternatural ability to not care so much about how a story turns out. They just care about getting it right. So if your own personal politics are liberal in nature, but a particular story leads you down a path and you realize the liberals in this particular story are wrong and the conservatives are right, you don't care. Because what you care about is getting it right. Having that natural instinct to subordinate your personal beliefs in the service of figuring out exactly what happened. It's not right to say that you don't care, but the part of you that cares is not involved in the making of the journalism. That's a particular talent, and it's a particular talent that's in short supply now because there's so much advocacy journalism, and a lot of journalism that doesn't even call itself that because advocacy journalism is journalism. That neutrality that's not a soft neutrality of "this side says this but this side says this and I don't know," but goes hard at the truth no matter what, that's really important.

An Interview with Dweeb City

Earth, prepare to be rocked by the cyberpop tunes of the neon-clad, glitter-drenched girl band Dweeb City. If their melodies sound otherworldly, it's because they traveled all the way from their home planet, Dweebtopia, to the human world, armed only with the dream of winning Eurovision. The group is comrpised of Suman, Taxman, Steelman, and Scabman-- all of whom bring their own unique alien superpower to the table. 

What started as a spur-of-the-moment decision to enter a uni band competition has now snowballed into elaborate gigs complete with costume changes, visually stunning music videos, and--most importantly-- their debut album, Dweeb City. A delightful mix of the wildly personal ("Spent A Year in Bed Watching Degrassi Jr. High"), hilariously fangirlish ("Nico the Unicorn We Miss You"), and universally poignant ("Duckie"), it proves that these extra terrestrials have an uncanny ability to understand what it is to be human. Perhaps that's because they give up all pretensions in the name of fun, entertainment, and having a positive impact.

I've been following the band since before their win at the music competition (before the fame hit)  and it's been such a pleasure to watch them come into their own as musicians. I've always believed in these dweebs, but it's been so incredible to watch them develop a distinct style into an impressively diverse yet cohesive, must-listen album. In the transcript below, we discuss the album, their journey to Earth, and everything in between. 

Hannah: What are the origin stories of your nicknames?

Taxman: While I was in art school I had to do this stupid exercise where we had to put cardboard boxes on our head. My friend wrote "Taxman" on my box, and I didn't know because I had a box on my head. So that's how I got Taxman.

Suman: In high school I got Suman and there's no real explanation for that, other than it just happened.

Scabman: She was like Susman at first I think.

Suman: Yeah, I had a nickname; it was "Susman," and then it turned into "Susnanny bitch" and then that was too long. So it just reverted back into Suman.

Scabman: In high school, we had this friend that used to scream at me "Scabigail Angel of Death!" I had an early 2000s emo aesthetic and I guess she took that to heart. Scabman kind of came from her calling me "Scabby Abby" and "Scabigail Angel of Death."

Taxman: Princess Sally gave Steelman her name because she loves Steel Panther so much!

Hannah: How did you come up with the name Dweeb city?

Taxman: Well, we only had like an hour before it was due, so I just wrote Dweeb City because I didn't know what to write. I think in art school there were a lot of people trying to be cool, and we just kind of did what we wanted to do.

Hannah: I was wondering about the origin story of Dweeb City. I know you entered a competition and stuff, but can you describe your rise to stardom?

Taxman: On our home plant Dweebtopia, we were trained to be the Eurovision champions. We would grow up watching Eurovision, except we're 20 years behind. So we were coming to Earth to win Eurovision, but we went to the wrong place because Dweeb City is not that good at making technology.

Scabman: Taxman ended up at art school and was like 'oh no! How will I win Eurovision now?'

Taxman: And then I found out about this competition and it wasn't Eurovision but we entered anyway. And we won! To the dismay of some of the other bands.

Suman: I think that some people were a bit like 'aw this is funny!' But then, when we won, they were like "Fuck those guys!"

Hannah: What was the best show you played?

Taxman: I really loved Psyfari. It was a bush doof. I don't know if that's a thing in America.

Hannah: What is that?

Taxman: It's like a party where you take lots of drugs and like listen to rave music. We don't take lots of drugs though.

Suman: It's like a psychedelic dance party basically.

Scabman: And they make a mess.

Taxman: It's a bit gross.

Scabman: You could spend a long time talking about the problems. But the cool aspect is that they set up amazing lasers that bounce off the trees.

Suman: Huge sound systems in the middle of nowhere.

Taxman: And there's artists that design the stages. It's really cool.

Suman: And then there's like adult jungle gyms.

Taxman: Anyway we played a really hilarious gig at Psyfari. We were on at like midnight.

Suman: It was so cold. It got down to like -4 degrees Celsius. It was like below freezing. And we were in our tiny costumes onstage.

Scabman: Because it was so cold, the strings got really tight and they were so high pitched.

Taxman: And we were on for like an hour, so we just put lots of dance breaks.

Scabman: We had like this ghost buster's dance break. And some people came up to us, and they were like "Your set was really good, but then it got really dark and scary and I had to walk away."

Suman: There were a lot of people that were like, "We loved it, but it was just too much."

Taxman: I had this person come up to me a couple of months ago that was like "You guys exist? I saw you at the bush doof and I didn't know if you were real or not!"

Scabman: Personally, when we played with Toy Death for the first time, that was just a nostalgic moment. Because they play with old toys, and we really looked up to them in high school. They were-- and they still are --like, the coolest people. We wrote them this fan letter that was like "Hello, we are from Dweebtopia and we've loved you since we were teenagers." And they played with us! And they turned out to be the nicest people ever.

Hannah: What's your favorite song on the album?

Taxman: It changes every time I listen to it. I really really really love "Clementine." I think that one is a total bop.

Suman; That was one of the ones we recorded in the actual recording studio. So we had some help with making it sound more like real music.

Taxman: The first time I heard it, it glitched. So it was playing at like 4 times the speed.

Scabman: I just had really bad, broken speakers. And it wasn't really finished yet.

Suman: "70s Stairway to Hell" was a really good song. Steelman wrote that.

Scabman: It's got that "Hello Moto!"

Suman: I really like "Drogo." It's got so many layers.

Scabman: I like all of them for different reasons.

Suman: My parents' favorite is "Mrs. Pink."

Hannah: Who are your main musical inspirations?

Taxman: I reckon The Shaggs are a pretty big one for me. Abigail and I also listen to lots and lots of early 2000s indie pop music.

Suman: I really really like Sufjan Stevens, like weird atmospheric stuff. And The Flaming Lips as well. Like when you can hear random sounds but they just really work together. I love that stuff.

Taxman: I also really love like the eighties. So like Devo.

Scabman: Cyndi Lauper,  The Strawberry Switchblade Sisters. Oh my gosh.

Hannah: What's your favorite music video you've done?

Scabman: I had so much fun when we filmed Luna Luna. That was so cute. Because we went to Luna Park. And it was just such a fun day. We just went around dressed as aliens and everyone thought we were part of the theme park attractions.

Taxman: I love Luna Park! It's a very derro Australian theme park that's like really tiny.

Suman: It's in the middle of the city and they've had a lot of noise complaints, so they've had to make all the rides miniature. It's very derro but very cool. It's very old too. It's like Australia's version of Coney Island.

Taxman: I can't watch Duckie anymore. I was so sick [when we were filming].

Scabman: I like the bedroom scene in that. I watched it the other day and I was like "That's so cute." But I agree that was a rough day.

Hannah: How did you develop the visual aesthetics of Dweeb City?

Taxman: It's all based off of what you can get really cheap at Kmart. I go to supermarkets and to shops and buy stuff. I really love neon. You have to find neon stuff which is a task.

Scabman: Any inspirations?

Taxman: My inspirations are outsider art, so like all those crazy people that build epic houses and stuff. I really love Harajuku and that layer on layer on layer, pop culture, trashy aesthetic. So there's a lot of nostalgia, mixed with outsider art, mixed with 60s sci-fi. And whatever you can find at Kmart.

Suman: Retro futurism meets Kmart. That's what our aesthetic is.

Hannah: What's next for Dweeb City? What are your plans for the future?

Scabman: Eurovision.

Suman: Eurovision.

Scabman: We have music videos we're halfway through. We've got other songs we've already written that we'll put on the next one.

Suman: But not for a while.

Scabman: We really want to go to Japan and play a gig there.

Suman: We were talking to Toy Death about it and they said we could potentially go together.

Hannah: Using an analogy, how would you describe your creative process?

Taxman: For me, it's a bit like putting everything into a microwave and microwaving it until it explodes. That's how I roll.

Scabman: I feel like it's like poking at a calculator that makes a beeping sound endlessly, and just going "Yeah, I like that!" Is that an analogy? I don't know if I really identify with my analogy.

Suman: I feel like [for me it would be] spicy shaker fries.

Taxman: Do you guys have shaker fries?

Hannah: No, I've never heard of that before.

Suman: They're like McDonald's fries, and they give you a packet of seasoning. And you put it in the bag and shake it.

Scabman: Sometimes you get like too much flavoring on a chip, but you're just like "Cool."

Taxman: Yeah you're like "I'm in Salt City but I'm loving it."

Suman: What's an analogy I don't know!

Taxman: Shaker fries! She shook me to my core. Suman did most of the mixing and mastering on our album. It took a million years.

Scabman: We kept having these, like, riots in the car where we'd be like "We'll listen to the album!" And then we'd be like "Oh no. We can't send it off. Susan, what do we do? Back to the drawing board." And she'd just like fix so many songs. She's definitely the mastermind of the shaker bag.

Taxman: She's the shaker for sure.

Hannah: How long did the album take to finish?

Taxman: A year and a half. It took us a long time.

Suman: It was worth it though. When you actually get the CD in your hand, you're like "IT"S WORTH IT!"

Hannah: When did you decide to get serious about your music?

Suman: I'm not sure we're totally serious even now. Like, we are in some aspects. We really love playing music and playing gigs and stuff. But in terms of the music we write and the lyrics we write, we don't generally take it too seriously. Well, some of them are quite serious. It depends.

Scabman: I think that the fun is still there. Some of them are very personal.

Taxman: The stuff that we write on our own is more serious. More rooted in real life.

Scabman: We were never like, "Ok, we are very serious now. Get it together friends!" It's fun.

Suman: Even if we do have a serious song that deals with a serious topic, often we'll add a weird instrument or a weird sample or something that makes it a little more accessible.

Taxman: I guess, for me, when I started taking it seriously was when other people started saying I should take it seriously. I was like "Oh it's just this silly thing me and my friends are doing." But then the guy who ran the band competition was like "No, this is actually really good." And I was like "What?" I didn't realize what we'd done was actually affecting people and I thought that was really cool. When I was thinking of making a band, I saw a lot of bands that took themselves so seriously that it was like the audience didn't really exist, and they were just playing for themselves, which is fine. But I saw bands that were really engaging the audience and making really accessible music and I was like, "That'd be really fun!" And, of course, Toy Death really puts on a show for people to enjoy, so that was a big influence for me.

Suman: We've had some experiences where people would come up to us after gigs and be like 'I really needed that." Or "That really changed my life." Or "I was having a really bad time and you guys just made me feel so much better." When I heard that kind of stuff from people, [I realized] that our music has the power to help people in a way and make them feel good. That makes you take it a lot more seriously.

Hannah: What's been the best moment since forming Dweeb City?

Suman: The novelty check [we got from winning the competition] was pretty great.

Scabman: I think just all the time spent with friends. I don't really have one epic moment personally. It's just like hanging out and having tea. And eating junk food. Just a collection of really hilarious memories. I'm just like "Life's just really nice."

Taxman: And I think that having Dweeb City means you have to meet up and you have to hang out and you have to do stuff. At our age, people kind of drift apart a little bit. But we can stay aliens forever.


You can listen to Dweeb City on Spotify and all other streaming services!

All photos via Dweeb City's Instagram

An Interview with Chris Uphues

The world needs the vibrant heart(s) of Chris Uphues. The artist and designer (he co-founded the shop Beautiful Days with his wife, Jen Koehl) is not only a huge personal inspiration of mine but has become a cultural phenomenon over the past couple of years. Best known for his bright-eyed cartoon hearts, Uphues draws from an eclectic range of inspirations to create his iconography. He simply and beautifully distills his "spread love" philosophy into imagery that's attainable rather than elitist, welcoming rather than exclusive. This is especially true of his street art, which is not only accessible in terms of medium, but also possesses an almost aggressive luminosity, so energetic it's infectious, impossible to ignore. Inspired by Keith Haring, he is well on his way to entering the pop art cannon himself. And for good reason. In the current tumultuous political and cultural landscape, we need the vigorous cheerfulness of his work.

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What work are you most proud of?

I don't think I have a piece I'm most proud of . I think my answer changes every time I make something new. Mostly I just really enjoy getting in the studio and continuing the work everyday. That's where the real action and fun really is.

Who do you think the most creative person alive is?

One of my favorite creative people is theoretical physicist Michio Kaku, most well known for his work on string theory.

What is your favorite color combination?

Anything that vibrates when you set them side by side -- like a fluorescent over a pastel.

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What's the best advice you've ever received?

"Leap and the net will appear." - zen proverb

This is the one piece of advice I find to be completely true 100% of the time.

What's the strangest thing you've painted on?

I once painted on these giant bins in a farm in Montana to look like great big robot heads. Still one of my favorite projects.

What would you change about the art world?

Nothing. It's perfect just the way it is. Or actually every single thing but it's too much to list in a single interview.

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What's the best reaction anyone has ever had to your art?

Hmmm I'm not really sure , but it's always nice when people appreciate something you've worked hard on. There has been a recent wave of art teachers teaching my work in class and I really love seeing those projects develop.

What was the first thing you painted?

That's a hard one... I think it was probably a water color of a bowl of fruit in my very first painting class. LOL

What do you hope you'll be remembered for?

I used to have big ideas about this but now I just hope I brought a little joy into the world and more specifically, to my wife and family, and I hope they know I love them.

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Using an analogy, how would you describe your creative process?

My creative process is like a galactic cloud of gas. The molecules in the cloud gather and collide, and gather mass until they start forming planets, suns, and star systems of ideas and imagery.

Lastly, if your body of work were an animal, what kind of animal would it be and why?

I genuinely can't pick just one... so all of them.

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An Interview with Suka Mo

Suka Mo's pencil drawings have an endearing simplicity to them (which also makes them easily translatable to the coterie of other memorabilia she makes, from pins to plush animals) that at once both supports and disguises the message of poignant optimism behind them.

At first glance, her childlike characters look like they could be coloring book drawings, with their uncomplicated expressions and their three-stroke figures. But upon closer inspection, Mo's drawings are more than just cute motifs. They depict the intimacies of friendship, embrace femininity, and promote body positivity with a subtlety that's rare amongst similar cartoonists. She conveys a multitude of commentary with just a few pencil lines. She was as succinct with her words in this interview.

What work are you most proud of?

I am most proud of my drawings. I gradually draw pictures. Besides drawing pictures, I also deeply appreciate crafting.

Who are your artistic inspirations?

I like Leiko Ikemura. I don't just get inspiration from artists, but also everyday life. From weather, seasons, smells, time, etc.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Follow what you believe in, enjoy being crazy as much as you like. Treasure yourself without comparing yourself to others.

How did you develop your artistic style?

I just did what I wanted to do. I would like to live with good faith and in freedom from now on.

*Please note that these answers have been translated from Japanese.

Images via Suka Mo's Instagram

An Interview with @kyoyp.st

 I wish I could live inside the bubbly bright world of @kyoyp.st's instagram. Her dreamy, excessively girlish doodles are a unique kitsch, a rare delight in the sometimes dreary and black and white landscape of instagram. It's nearly impossible to not smile when you gaze into the twinkling bejeweled eyes of one of her creations, which is an incredible artistic achievement in itself. She kindly took time out of her day to answer a few of my questions.

What work are you most proud of?

I am most proud of being told that people were "healed" or "felt happy" because of my work.

Who are your artistic inspirations?

Katsuya Terada, Mucha, videos of domestic and foreign musicians.

What has been the hardest piece to finish?

It was a portrait. It was a very fun task though!

Did you go to art school or are you self taught?

I went to a vocational school of manga. When I was a high school student, I attended a preparatory school of art.

Do you remember the first thing you ever drew?

I remember. I drew a girl when I was three years old. I did not do it well. I practiced quite a bit.

What do you hope people feel when they look at your work?

I want people who see my pictures to feel happy, healed, or relaxed.




Images via kyoyp.st's Instagram

An Interview with GIRLI

With her fiery pink locks, fierce gazes, and brash lyrics it's easy to assume Milly Toomey (better known by her stage name, GIRLI) is apathetic, unintimidated, and fearless. But what makes GIRLI's music and persona so fascinating is that she reappropriates traditionally feminine behavior/aesthetics (perceived as weak by society), using them instead as a strength by being blunt, upfront, and unabashedly, well, girly.

Don't let the upbeat melodies fool you. GIRLI's music is a work of raw emotion that you can dance to. The fun tune of party girl ballad "Mr. 10pm Bedtime" masks the desperation to maintain youth that underlies this track. The deceivingly happy synths in "Play it Cool" (in which the accompanying music video appropriately features a disinterested boy pretending to read Catcher in the Rye while an exuberant GIRLI trashes his room in an attempt to get his attention to no avail) make the song easy to blast in the car with friends or to cry alone in your room to. And perhaps the most well-crafted song in her body of work, as well as the newest, "Day Month Second" is a powerful attestation to the pain and freedom (and the warped sense of time) that comes with leaving an unfaithful partner.

While some of her older tracks (like "Hot Mess" and "Not That Girl") are tongue-in-cheek comebacks to general criticisms someone of her character might receive, through her more recent songs that loosely follow a narrative GIRLI allows herself to be more sensitive, creating a poignant connection between listener and musician. Although her music has always been a go-to when I need a boost in confidence, it seems like lately she's found a truly unique voice that doesn't sacrifice the punchy anti-patriarchy commentary she's known for but rather deepens and substantiates it with personal anecdotes. In some ways, her new style even more deeply reflects what her old work was trying to communicate: the re-purposing of vulnerabilities as power.

It takes a few listens to unearth the true genius in GIRLI's music. She describes the perils and apexes of relationships and growing up (coupled with a healthy dose of social criticism and girl power obviously) in a way that respects herself and others, and is always forthright and refreshing. It was an absolute an honor to be able to chat with someone so talented.

Who are your musical inspirations?

So many people! Bjork, Lily Allen, M.I.A, Arctic Monkeys, Siouxsie Sioux, Blondie, Grimes, La Roux, Mark Ronson, Bowie... the list could go on forever, and keeps being added to.

Do you usually start with lyrics or melodies?

Totally depends. I write lyrics and poems all the time that get turned into song lyrics, and I come up with the melodies and record them on my phone all the time that I'll combine with production ideas and lyrics I've already come up with.

What's the best reaction anyone has ever had to your music?

When I get messages on social media from young teenagers who say "your music has helped me to be confident" or "get better." That's the best.

What's your favorite song of yours?

Of the ones that are out, Day Month Second. But my favorite I've ever written is still to come.

Can you describe your favorite outfit?

Anything Siouxsie Sioux would wear.

What's the best piece of criticism you've ever received?

Someone said when Day Month Second came out that I'd "finally written a good song." And I liked that because I kind of agreed -- I wanna keep beating what I've done before, bettering myself and my songwriting.

Were you always as bold and unafraid as you are now? What advice do you have for someone that's shy but trying to come out of their shell?

There's this misconception that I'm totally unafraid, when actually I'm human and sometimes I'm unafraid and sometimes I'm really afraid! But the main thing I would say to someone trying to come out of their shell more is to face what you're scared of doing and just DO IT. Do it once, and it becomes easier to do from then on. Things are way less scary than what you think.

Do you think your musical style will change in the future? If so, how?

Yes, because I know I'll change, and when I change, my music changes. I can't predict how it will change, just like how I can't predict my future life, but at the moment it's going more pop.

What's your favorite movie?

It changes all the time! At the moment, Call Me By Your Name and Amelie.

Lastly, what is your definition of success?

Happiness.

An Interview with David Remnick, editor-in-chief of The New Yorker

There is perhaps no more apt use of the phrase "needs no introduction" than to describe David Remnick, editor-in-chief of The New Yorker. I won't even attempt to describe his immense talent, instead I will just express my gratitude for the opportunity to interview him. Read on to find out his reading recommendations and how he brought the magazine into the digital age.

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What's the best piece of storytelling you've ever encountered?

Impossible, there are so many man! But I can highly recommend, for starters, some rarities like "Great Plains" by Ian Frazier or "Slouching Toward Bethlehem" by Joan Didion.

What's the worst argument you've gotten into with a staff member?

I think I will keep that one a secret.

Which issue of The New Yorker is your favorite?

The one we just put to bed. And then I would say the same the next week. But you have to say that the "Hiroshima" issue, in which John Hersey's 1946 piece was the only piece in the issue, was amazing. As was our 9/11 issue with Art Spiegelman's back cover.

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When you first became editor was there anything you were really looking forward to changing about the magazine?

When I first became editor, it was a huge surprise. And while I wanted to do certain things-- more political reporting and deeper international reporting and to publish more writers of color, more women, and certain individuals whom I was eventually lucky enough to hire-- my first thought was not to drown in a sea of inexperience and nerves!

What major changes has The New Yorker gone through over the years you've been editor?

Well, the biggest is that we have made the transition to the digital world. So that in addition to publishing the traditional print magazine, with its usual complement of in-depth pieces and fiction and the rest, we have added an entirely new piece of business, newyorker.com, which, in addition to publishing what's in the print magazine, adds at least fifteen pieces every day on a variety of subjects and by, very often, some very exciting and young new writers, like Doreen St. Felix and Jia Tolentino and Charles Bethea.

An Interview with Priscila (@filmdaughter)

Priscila Hernandez (known as @fiilmdaughter on Instagram) is the ultimate cool older sister figure. Her sense of style is the epitome of casual chic with a 70s slant. Her general attitude is sophisticated without being detached. Her sun drenched Instagram feed is a testament not only to her photography skills but also her impeccable taste and creative eye. Her high school short films show immense promise for her as a creator. And not one to shy away from difficult topics, her well thought out commentary and advice via tweets and Instagram posts are rarities in a sea of uninformed, negative social media rants. She's so kind, humble despite quite a substantial following, and an absolute pleasure to talk to.


What work are you most proud of?

It has been awhile since I've filmed anything mostly because of my current schedule with work and school, but I am incredibly proud of my film work. I have so much fun editing and creating different color schemes!

Who do you think is the most creative person alive?

This is definitely a difficult question to answer! We're lucky enough to live in a time where there are so many creatives making work in the public eye. I'd have to say Wes Andeson. His style is definitely unique to him, and his art spreads across so many genres. He tries his hand at everything and tries plots that have the risk of being "boring" to the common viewer and turns them into beautiful films. He has a wonderful gift.

What are your most prized possessions?

It would definitely have to be my camera and all the photos I have of friends and family. I have so many places I store photos and visual memories are things I cherish so much.

Creatively, what are you most afraid of?

I think what I'm most afraid of creatively is never "peaking." It definitely feels like a shared fear with others and that helps me feel less alone, but it also makes me feel like if so many people believe they won't, then there's a greater chance I won't. I definitely want to try my hand at different things creatively and hopefully learn from them if I fail. Growing and remaining ambitious is just as important as peaking!

What is your favorite film?

Hands down, The Graduate. It's a 60s film that definitely still fits modern themes. The plot, the various color schemes, the acting, the little jokes and the ultimate lesson learned from the movie is absolutely spectacular.

What film has the best clothes in your opinion?

This is another hard question! I love looking at films to draw inspiration for outfits in my everyday life. I think the best clothes also have to do with the era at the time. Overall, I'd say the late 80s and mid-90s films, such as Jawbreaker, The Craft, Heathers, etc, contain the best wardrobes!

What skill are you most proud of learning?

You're gonna laugh, but public speaking. I've had anxiety for a very long time, and in contrast to my online appearance, I am a very introverted and shy person. I was never really able to speak in front of a group without constantly stuttering and I think forcing myself to do so often definitely helped me a lot.

What do you do when you feel stressed/overwhelmed?

The first thing I do when I'm stressed is put in my headphones and listen to some music. Then, I do a face mask or treatment of some sort and organize ideas in my planner or on pinterest. Feeling like I have things together makes things feel a lot more manageable.

Lastly, how do you hope you'll change in the future?

I hope I'll grow in the future by being a more assertive person and having a stronger ability to help and inspire others. I have a strong feeling, sort of an urge or call to action, to gain a platform and use that platform to not only inspire others but assist them. I want other people to know they aren't alone and that things are possible even if your background isn't perfect.

An Interview with Bunny Boy

As soon as I heard the odd mixture of savagery and sugary imagery contained in Bunny Boy's lyrics, I was hooked. More underground than his talent deserves, Bunny Boy is one of the most original artists I've encountered. The music itself is light and airy, a melt-in-your-mouth delicacy like cotton candy. But his real talent lies in the "completeness" of the worlds he creates through song. This effect is not effortless, however. It didn't come as a surprise that Bunny Boy's process as a musician is more similar to that of a scientist than it is a creative, relying heavily on in-depth research of his subjects. Read on to find out more about his methods.

Where do you get inspiration for your songs?

Inspiration often comes from a very specific feeling with very vague images, stories, or ideas surrounding that feeling. "Your Blue Sky" came about while I was walking through a Marshalls store. There was a song that was playing that I could barely hear but I swore it was saying something like "your blue sky." So I went home and tried to Google a song by the name of "your blue sky" to no avail. But the phrase made me feel this deep warmth. So I decided that I'd write the song with imagery that was somewhat inspired by the Care Bears because I'm a big Care Bear fan (80s).

The song "Shelly" was just meant to be sort of a sad sentimental song. I had a book laying on around called "Our Children Live On" that was about the presence of family that has passed on, often in the form of a spirit. There was a butterfly on the cover, so in the song Shelly's ghostly presence is signified first by a butterfly landing on her favorite book. Butterflies are very significant to my writing. They're like a splash of color.

Sometimes I just sit down with books on top of books of obscure information about dolls, fairies, folk tales, horses, frogs, poetry, whatever weird shit I feel like being inspired by, and I just write lyrics to different melodies I'm working on. Sometimes I have an idea I can't just sit down and write, and the idea will take me years to write. The song "Newt of Knells" was a melody I wrote ten years before I actually wrote lyrics that suited it well.

Lately I've been reading a whole bunch of books about horses so I can write a song about a girl and her horse. It's very important to me that when I write a song about something it seems that I have sort of intuitively understand the subject. I'll just read a whole bunch of stuff and try to get the terminology of things until I have a somewhat true understanding of what it is about the thing that is important to my characters.

What has been the biggest challenge you've faced as a musician?

As a musician I certainly feel I've sort of peaked at guitar and without serious effort I can't get all that better. I also am pretty lazy and I find booking shows and doing any sort of planning aside from the making music part of things to be tedious. Booking tours and shows and the overall social media networking is what I find to be the biggest challenge. And getting better at my instruments.

What's the best reaction anyone has ever had to your music?

People have come up to me after sets and told me that certain songs had made them cry. Probably the most frequent one is "Heaven," which can be found somewhere on YouTube. Tears are indeed the best reaction a singer/songwriter could get I suppose. However, the most ideal reaction would be if people would just throw big wads of cash at me. I highly recommend that to anybody at my shows.

Why did you choose the name Bunny Boy? What would you look like if you were an actual bunny?

I think I was going to call my project Black Bunny because of a beautiful black bunny I had seen in the woods once. There was already a band camp page of that name and there were a lot of bands at the time that called themselves black whatever and whatnot so I decided to call myself Bunny Boy sort of after the character from Gummo.  But I've sort of tried to distance myself from that a bit and make it more my own.

In the "Bunnyverse" (that's the dumb name I made for the world I write songs in) there is a character that was a child who died and her father then put her bones inside of a giant mythical rabbit and a witch brought the girl back to life but inside of the large rabbit and they sort of transformed into this deformed rabbit person. People start calling the rabbit Bunny Boy, and later, Lapin. I sort of wrote this in the form of a short story that I haven't quite finished. And I might work it into a bigger series of sorts when I find the time. I suppose if I were a bunny, it'd be proper to be a bunny in the way that Bunny Boy comes to be in my own mythology and so I would look like a stitched up, deformed rabbit person.

That being said, the bunny has a great and significant meaning to me. The Velveteen Rabbit is one of the most beautiful and sad children's books ever written, which is one of my favorites. Watership Down is probably my all time favorite book, and Goodnight Moon is another one. To me, the bunny truly represents childhood.

What has been your biggest creative failure?

My biggest creative failure is probably anything I've done before Bunny Boy. I think I always had a knack for writing songs. I'd been doing it since I was a kid. I was kind of making what, now, I'd consider cheesy and embarrassing music until I became sort of more self aware I suppose. I'm currently about to go through years and years of old tapes I recorded all my demos on. I have stuff that dates back to freshman year in high school. We are talking like, '04. It's going to involve a lot of me groaning and laughing at younger me, but hopefully I'll find a few gems in there.

How would you describe your musical style?

Up until this point, most of Bunny Boy has been sort of lo-fi, twee, cutie pie, creepy folk -- with a few ambient tracks. I'm working on my first official full length at the moment (I don't consider Shelly full length cause it was just sort of an afterthought after I had a few short little instrumentals from a movie project I was helping with). The full length is a 22 song double album that is a little bit of what I just said but also very much a new age, self help, rock, and utterly bizarre, extremely creepy and disturbing, folk album. I truly think people will somewhat classify it as such. But I also think they might perhaps classify it as "unnecessary" as well. I wouldn't blame them.

What song would you direct a music video to and what would it look like?

I'm working on a music video at the moment for Bunny Boy. It's using mostly my dark ambient tracks and it's sort of going to be a short film of some sorts as well. It's about these two living dead children that come from a magical land where they slept beneath a tree being fed what is called "the gackle of the drearsils." Drearsils are a weird flower I created in the Bunnyverse. It's going to follow them around as they deal with being children who need to turn people into creatures similar to themselves while they reach a lady called the Mustide Lady, who is filled with creatures called Mustides, which can be transported into these special dolls that are called flesh dolls. They also eat dead crows and lots of candy. It will be gorey, yucky, disturbing, and pretty. I hope that sort of answers that question.

You said that "Your Blue Sky" was inspired by Care Bears. Who is your favorite Care Bear and why?

My older brother had this very old, mangled Bedtime bear doll. For my whole life, I thought it was his. But my mom told me last year that when he was in kindergarten, he must have stolen it from some kid and my mom just let him keep it. It brings me great sorrow, or maybe more like mild sorrow, to think that some kid is out there who doe not know where his childhood Teddy Bear is. My Teddy Bear, Gear Bear, is on my bed right now. He still keeps me company as a Teddy Bear always will if you let them. It's their duty. Gear Bear isn't a Care Bear, he's a Gund bear.

So anyways, aesthetically I'm a big fan of Bedtime Bear. I also had this dream when I was a kid, or perhaps I'm just recalling an episode of Care Bears, or perhaps I dreamt a dream in the style of the original Care Bears series, but it's an image of Bedtime Bear asleep on his cloud and then comes down on a rainbow or a moonbeam onto Earth where the kids are swinging on a porch swing or something. Sounds like an episode of Care Bears. But that image is very important to me.

Quite frankly however, I think Grumpy Bear might be my favorite Care Bears character because he's the only one with a realistic personality. He's the Larry David of Care Bears.

I once had considered writing Care Bear fiction. Perhaps some day, but it's very low on my bucket list right now.

A lot of your songs describe dreamlike, pastoral, twee imagery but tend to have dark undertones. How did you develop this signature contrast in your lyrics?

For some reason, I've been obsessed with death and creepy stuff since when I was in grade school. When I was about 10 or 11, my parent found these lyrics that I wrote that were pretty disturbing apparently. They were concerned. I used to write short stories that were interesting and about weird things.

Anyways, when I was 18 my older brother passed away. That was terrible and gave me new insight into death, something that I had already been obsessed with since I was a kid. I had always looked at it in a sort of gothic, romantic kind of light. I was awoken to its sort of apathetic nature. It's just a really shitty thing that happens. A lot of my writing is just me searching for that place between death and nostalgia. There is a perpetual gut churning feeling after the death of a loved one, and so you constantly search for the feeling of the memory. Even if you've never experienced a significant loss, I'd imagine we're all still looking for that. Growing up, in a way, is like the death of something. That's not an outlook I would recommend however, so don't listen to me. There's a few contradictions in there. Such is life.

I love the creepy and surreal. I'm a big fan of Edward Gorey, David Lynch, Jean Rollin, and Guy Maddin. I love horror, especially monsters and dolls. There's not enough doll horror. There's plenty of good monster horror.

I'm also extremely obsessed with lullabies, quaint children's shows, and children's books. I love Old Bear Stories and Bagpuss. I'm always looking for books with lullabies and nursery rhymes. I read lots of fairy tales as well, and I'm fond of Arthurian literature. I really like to escape to that little dreamlike realm whenever I can.

So, mix that with all my creepy inspiration, my obsession with death, and you get Bunny Boy. I've mentioned that my upcoming album delves further into the world. It's very bizarre, dreamy, creepy, loud, soft. The song topics range from voices speaking from beyond the dead, necromancy, nursery rhymes, homunculi, and angels. I don't think anything I've put out truly captures what I've been intending to make. It's all sort of been filler until I released my first official full lengths. This upcoming full length is more aligned with something I've always dreamt of making.

Lastly, when was the time in your life when you felt the most hopeful?

I will have to begin this answer with sort of the opposite of what should be the answer. A few years ago I felt very very depressed, as I often do, but a little more than usual. I think it was around the time I was just transitioning into being a bunny boy. I was pretty unhappy with where I was in life. But I told myself, "You could kill yourself or you could just start living closer to the way you'd like to and do everything that you wanted to do." It doesn't always work like that obviously, but I was able to plant that little idea in my head. So for a brief moment maybe a season or two, I was doing a lot of that and feeling very hopeful. I do think I got fairly far and brought my art into the most interesting ways I ever had then. I really told myself to not change my art in any way to appeal to anyone. It's all for myself. If people enjoy it, that's great. I personally think it's something people might enjoy so I make some effort to get it out there.

When I write about the strange, I feel very close to myself, but sometimes I feel great distance from others. I avoid as much social interaction as I can. I have so many artistic endeavors and ideas that I need to do and that's what keeps me going. So in a way, I am still very hopeful that I don't die before I can get them all out. And I hope ideas keep coming so I still can tell myself that I can't die and I'll just keep the process going. I have a big fear of accidents and death. I'm feeling very hopeful right now about now succumbing to any accident. It's funny how you can feel so miserable but also very much not want a bus to hit you out of nowhere. Hope appears in strange ways sometimes I suppose.

An Interview with Rachel Trachtenburg

I honestly don't remember how I came across the name Rachel Trachtenburg. All I remember was being completely absorbed by her angelic voice, her unprecedented creativity, and her charming fashion sense. Each of her projects enthralled me, from her family band (The Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players), to her admittedly saccharine but undeniably convivial teen band (Supercute!) to the delightfully surreal and twee TV pilot for Rachel Trachtenburg's Homemade World, and finally the dreamlike melodies of her current band, Wooing.

Although Rachel will no doubt have other projects in the future that will continue to amaze, inspire, and captivate me, Wooing's EP "Daydream Time Machine" seems like the current epitome of Rachel's creative achievements. Inspired by a documentary about LSD experimentation, the EP is an amalgam of influences that, through Rachel's vision/direction, come together euphoniously. She was as careful and articulate with her interview answers as she is with her lyrics.

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When you were creating Daydream Time Machine, what feeling did you hope to leave listeners with?

A very "down the rabbit hole" kind of feeling. The songs are dark yet playful. There is a lot of raw emotions within the lyrics. Each song has a very different subject, but I feel like they overlap at points.

When composing songs, do you usually start with lyrics or melodies?

Our process is always evolving. The melody usually comes first with "fill-in" words and then I'll take more time with the final lyrics after developing the music arrangement. I like to know how much room we're working with.

What were your inspirations for the music video for "In Colour"? I heard the song was inspired by a documentary about LSD experimentation but did you have any other visual influences for the mv?

The director John Zhao wrote the story after hearing the unreleased recording. John also shot my first solo music video for "I like to be alone." He really understands my aesthetic and fascinations. Subjects like UFOs and eerie cults. The story and concept for the video was all his. I helped with the casting and styling. John did a lot of research on different cults before shooting. It was a really special process. Definitely feels like a foggy dream. The song was inspired by the idea of personified thoughts and how that concept can kinda just go on forever.

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Why did you decide to title Wooing's EP Daydream Time Machine?

It was the title of a song that I never finished and felt like it really fit the vibe I was looking to capture for our first release. I've definitely wished for a time machine while daydreaming, and I liked how the words flowed together into one concept.

Who are your musical inspirations?

I grew up listening to oldies and classic rock. I love bands like Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. I also get a lot of inspiration from more underground musicians/bands like Quasi, Jeffrey Lewis, Daniel Johnston, Sibylle Baier, and Helium. A lot of my musical inspiration come from film. I love soundtracks and movie scores.

I really identify with "Two Can Keep a Secret" because I've lost a lot of friends over the past year, and I find it really hard to accept that friendships (or anything) are over. Do you have any advice on letting things go? Also, what songs do you listen to when you're trying to move on?

I've found that the people who are true friends always come back into your life at some point. Sometimes space from an unbalanced friendship is what's needed to get perspective on the situation. I also like to keep in mind that people are always changing and growing. Life's too short to force anything that's not meant to be. There's one song in particular that always helps me: "I Never Want To See You Again" by Quasi. That one is good for the early stages of moving on. I love that song always though.

I've been listening to a lot of Al Green lately, really lifts the mood. The song "I'm So Glad You're Mine" is my new jam. Can't get enough of literally everything about it!

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What's your favorite song on the EP?

That's a hard one! I go through phases of each one being a favorite. I love hearing what other people connect with the most, it changes my personal relationship with the song in a good way. Recording wise, "Tear World" is the one I'm most proud of. The producer/engineer Bryce Goggin really helped capture the emotions that I wanted to convey throughout our first release.

I really love the cover art for the EP and it's so impressive that you embroidered it! How long did it take you to do that? And what's your favorite embroidery that you've done?

Thank you! I don't remember how long it took me, probably a few days. I did the whole cover without drafting or penciling any ideas, all freestyle design. I'm always proud of each embroidery piece for different reasons. I'm mostly self taught with embroidery, so whenever I learn a new technique it's very exciting. I sew a lot of Death Head Hawk moths and recently started with some butterflies. I did a morpho butterfly art patch; I used 7 shades of blue that I hand mixed to create different shades. I was able to mix the colors to look iridescent which was really cool!

Daydream Time Machine is so trippy and otherworldly. What made you gravitate towards psychedelia with this EP?

Overall, the sound I'm trying to hone in on is psychedelic-grunge. JR, our guitarist, is amazing at creating weird sounds with his guitar naturally. Psychedelia is definitely something we will continue to play around with in the future.

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I really admire how you're an advocate for animal rights, and it's so cool that Wooing has performed songs regarding that topic. Do you think that you'll ever write songs about other politically charged topics? What issues are important to you right now?

I get a lot of inspiration writing from the perspective of animal rights. I'm sure we will explore other political subjects in the future, but right now I'm mostly focused on animal advocacy. I get most of my news from Democracy Now. Their program keeps me informed on world issues that matter to me. I try to only take in what I can handle though. Looking out for your own mental health is the most important thing to do during this time.

What's your best memory of being a part of the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players?

Touring was my favorite part. Being so young on the road taught me a lot. We had one tour manager who wasn't necessarily the most professional but who always put adventure and fun first, which as a kid I loved. We would pull over to climb hills or jump into a watering hole that was famous for having gold flakes in it. During summer tours, I remember letting chocolate melt in a cup on the dashboard of our van to make fondue. Being in a band with my parents was all I knew and it never felt out of the ordinary to me. As an adult now looking back at the whole experience, I can see why people were so fascinated with the project.

Your personal style is seriously the coolest. What do you look to for fashion inspiration?

Aw that's so sweet of you! I love almost anything with flowers on it to start with. I hold onto clothes for way too long. I don't like buying anything new. About 95% of my closet is vintage, hand-me-downs, gifted, or homemade. I like to mix decades, 60s and 90s mostly. I love when a piece has a lot of wear and history in it.

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What was the worst show you've ever played?

The bad ones usually involve someone having too many drinks or whatever. Wooing had one last year where the sound guy was either having a mental breakdown or was on a whole lot of drugs. I think both. The whole show was running hours late and when we got up on stage to play he couldn't get any of the mics on and when one started working it would feedback horribly. They had to escort him out of the venue and I think one of the other bands ended up running the sound! Even "bad" shows are still fun, or good learning experiences, or something to laugh at later.

What was the best show?

I love playing shows on my birthday. We had one a few years back that was extra special. I actually got kind of emotional onstage and almost cried while thanking all my friends and family for their love and support. The venue surprised me with a person dressed in a cake costume who danced on stage and delivered a birthday cake to me. I'll never forget that night.

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