Jaina Cipriano, an artist we adore, has work up at the firehouse starting October 6th. To mark the occasion we had a little chat about her work and process.

Your current body of work is highly produced and intentional, but you also capture a good deal of b-roll and behind-the-scenes shots. I’m guessing this stems from earlier interests in documentaries—but I also wonder if you’re thinking about the entire process as performance?

You’re right on the money with my documentary training. Friends of mine have told me they don’t know how I do it, that they cannot remember to take photos when they are working on something. I didn’t really have any advice - it’s ingrained into me. Not so much a performance, but the process is as exciting and important to me as the product is. I do this work partially because I am fascinated by materials and problem solving. I can get so lost in fabricating that I almost forget I am making art. It’s easy when you are fascinated by the process - you want to capture every moment.

When the documentation is of you, in action—are you directing shots? Or do you have people on set following you?

It is usually me, I know what I want and I have a lot of experience stemming from my self portraiture practice in how to get the desired result. Occasionally I do have others document my process and it’s always a delight to see things from a new perspective.

There’s this text on your website, “Always open to new connections and collaborations; don't be afraid to reach out.” with emphasis on always + reach out. It reads as an offer to help; a lifeline. Who is the audience for this call to action; what does collaboration offer you?

`Still from Superdowns' music video "Rattle," taken by Kyra Allen`

In the early stages of this work I used it as a mirror. I was coming out of a non-consensual space of deep isolation and I had, in a way, abandoned myself. It was a scary place to be, a little taste of ego death. Isolation is often a double edged sword, no one is around to triangulate your experiences with, so you begin to think you are the only one experiencing these specific tough times and feelings.

The way that others connected to my work, not even on the gallery walls, but in the studio, was my lifeline. It reintegrated me into the real world. I realized I was not alone. I believe that is where art comes from - connection, love, communication - without these elements, what’s the point?

What’s the studio setup?

In my studio you often find a bit of a mess, which is not by choice. I work better when things are organized but with so many things happening in such a small space it’s not always possible to find an organizational structure that works. I often have at least three projects in the works - in my studio right now is a giant eyeball wall, an unfinished western, Looney Tunes inspired mural and a freestanding room (that I will be taking down next week, thankfully). Behind that are racks of costuming and props. Down the hall is my shop. Even smaller, it’s full of all my tools and supplies. It is my favorite place to be. The shop is able to be kept organized and it fills me with possibility whenever I enter.

You got any favorite power tools?

I love welding - though I don’t have much reason to do it. It’s a tough way to build in a small space. When I transition to a larger space I hope to do a lot more welding. Metal working is so much easier than carpentry in my opinion - you mess up with metal you can basically hot glue some more on with a MIG gun - cut too much wood and that piece is trash. Plus, wood splinters are way worse than metal ones. Really.

Jigsaw is a dear friend - anything is possible with the jigsaw. Whether that’s cutting a cartoon tree out of wood or real quick cleaning up an edge. It’s much less scary than the circular saw.

I also don’t use this one much, but I love a drill press. Something is so satisfying about drilling into material - and it makes it so easy. I love when a machine does all the work for me. It’s kind of sexy.

In the Empty Spaces series, you were creating physical representations of your emotions as a way to, as you put it, “access parts of myself.” Are you familiar with Internal Family Systems therapy? I’m wondering about these parts of you—how they respond to being seen, documented, and put on display.

I am familiar with IFS, but I’ve never personally been through it. I am a CBT kinda gal. I view my parts as frozen in a moment - whether it is a specific age or an experience. Sometimes they are childhood moments - remember that specific feeling of being small and getting humiliated in front of your friends? - and sometimes they are more current than that. We cannot always exorcize our emotions the way we want to in public - but when I am alone, just me and the camera, anything goes. The parts of me I show the camera crave being seen. They were glanced over at some important juncture and have been chomping at the bit ever since. They are grateful for this opportunity.

When we first spoke, we talked a bit about Toiletpaper. Any other publications that you’ve loved; ones that have served as roadmaps?

I do love Toiletpaper, but I don’t consume too much current media. There are some fun visuals in fashion and editorial work but the emotional element, my driving force, is often lacking. Recently I have been doing a deep dive into 1970-2010 animated films and studying what makes them so transformative to me and how I can translate that specific magic into my own style, which does not include animation. It's a really fun puzzle. Whenever I consume media, I always ask myself “how did they make me feel that specific feeling?” Was it the lighting? The angle of the shot? The color palette? And then I write it down.

As the Moleskine notebooks say - “I am not writing it down to remember it later, I am writing it down to remember it now.”

What are some of the animated films you’ve been digging most?

Recently I’ve been watching the Secret of NIMH, Spirited Away, Alice in Wonderland, Pooh’s Grand Adventure, Coraline, A Goofy Movie, and The Sword in the Stone. I am a huge fan of Don Bluth and Chuck Jones's work. I love the hand drawn style of animation that happened between 1950-2000 or so. It is really special.

For Tangible Feeling, Liminal Places — what's unifying these works, and how do they relate to your wider practice?

This work is about feeling incredibly specific things in spaces in my body I cannot pinpoint. When I was younger and made to go to Youth Group, they read to us from this Christian fantasy/adventure book. There was a big map on the wall, covered in black felt, and each time we reached a new area in the book, they would reveal that section of the map.

Making this work feels like that, except it is my body that is shrouded in darkness and creating these images brings the light. This work is uncovering the map of my internal landscape.

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Tangible Feeling, Liminal Places is on view at atac starting Thursday October 6th. You can see the works whenever we’re open (during live events). Feel free to request an appointment if other times are needed.

All images in this interview appear courtesy of Jaina Cipriano.

Tangible Feeling, Liminal Places

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