Still from Shana Moulton, Whispering Pines 10 (2018)
Some months ago, we presented a selection of works by Shana Moulton, focusing on her “Whispering Pines” series (2002–), at the e-flux Screening Room. The screening was followed by a conversation between the artist, Lukas Brasiskis, and the audience. The transcript of this conversation has been edited for the present publication.
Question: Watching the films from your “Whispering Pines” series together, I was impressed by the consistency of style over 20 years. How did you develop this style and what were your influences?
Shana Moulton: Whispering Pines 1 (2002) was first, and then Whispering Pines 0 (2003) was a couple of years later, maybe one year later, and it was a collaboration with Jacob Ciocci, who was part of a collective called Paper Rad and who’s still making really great work in Chicago. He added the collaged mix at the end of that. We were both grad students together at Carnegie Mellon. His collective and his work were a big influence on me. I was there from 2001 through 2004, so I made Whispering Pines 1, 2, and then 0 as a student in Pittsburgh. I have some regrets, especially with the music. I try to use pop music that is already out there and making its own money or music that goes with a commercial or original music. But I did use one song from David Lynch’s Fire Walk With Me (1992) in Whispering Pines 5, from 2005. I felt a little bad about stealing that song, but it was one of those things where I had that song in my head while making the scene, and nothing else worked.
Q: Did you always intend for “Whispering Pines” to be a series, or did that evolve over time?
SM: Actually, what inspired me at the time was a series on a website called 0tv.com that some people in Milwaukee set up. This was before YouTube, and you could submit videos to their collection of videos. I thought I would make a series to submit. This idea was from Scott and Tyson Reeder and other people in Milwaukee in the early 2000s and late ’90s. They had one show called Wizards, and another great show called Milwaukee, and that inspired me to submit videos to be a part of that website.
Q: Your films blend humor and absurdism with critiques of consumerism and deeper existential themes. Can you share how you develop characters like Cynthia? Does she primarily serve as a satirical figure, or is there a deeper quest to transcend the mundane in her creation?
SM: It’s partially spontaneous. It’s usually about finding objects that interest me in a thrift store, online, or at a garage sale and creating a scenario for those objects. The fun part is connecting unrelated objects and making some kind of journey. Cynthia originally started with medical device dresses I was making. Before the videos, I had neck braces, walkers, and other items from my grandparents, and I wanted to embed them in clothing. My mom taught me how to sew, and we embedded those devices in fabric. I imagined what kind of person would need to wear those, and that’s how Cynthia came about. She started as a caricature and eventually became me, incorporating anecdotes from myself, my mom, aunt, or grandma. Now, it’s just me with a wig and an excuse to put on makeup.
Q: Do you feel your alter ego, Cynthia, sometimes merges with your real self?
SM: It’s not like I go around wondering who I am, but Cynthia is a way of making work and being an artist. Having that framework of a separate person, who is basically me, allows me to explore whatever I’m interested in.
Q: How did you choose the name Cynthia?
SM: It was a name I always wanted as a kid. I love how it sounds like synthetic or synesthesia. There was also someone I went to college with named Cynthia, who was really cool. It has a great ring to it and is like my alternate name.
Q: Animated mundane things play an important role in your “Whispering Pines” series. Are they things you personally like, or things Cynthia would choose?
SM: It’s me, but I don’t quite have all those things in my home. The combination of the sacred and profane, like plastic tools for healing next to healing stones, is really attractive to me. For example, the table fountain with a rolling ball and a crystal thing was something my mom got at an after-Christmas sale. Initially, I found it ugly, but later realized it was interesting and beautiful, like something from Disneyland. That defined Cynthia’s aesthetic, things that are a little repulsive at first but later reveal their charm.
Q: How do you choose the locations for your films, for instance the house in Whispering Pines 10 (2018)?
SM: For the most part, if I have a studio, I’ll carve out a space, or some were made in my parents’ house. The last house was an Airbnb called The Tulip House near the town I grew up in. The woman who made that house had a tourist shop in Bass Lake, California. Her aesthetic was a big influence on me. I worked the joke counter at her store, demonstrating fake snot. She passed away in 2007, and her house became available for rent, so we rented it and filmed there.
Q: Can you compare working in live performance versus making a series of videos? Do you have a preferred medium?
SM: With live performances, I interact with a video projection, combining the live presence of performance with the speed of edited video. I feel less connected to narrative when performing; there’s still an emotional arc but not necessarily a narrative. I feel more at liberty to collage. I don’t like performing for the camera or live; it’s horrible. My favorite part is being behind the computer doing the effects. To create the effects and interact with the projection, I have to perform.
Q: The quality of video has noticeably developed over the last fifteen years. How has working with digital technology changed for you during this time?
SM: Moving from VHS to digital was liberating. At a certain point, I had to move from standard definition to HD, and the images I found online were too small, so I had to find larger images. It’s a challenge to collage found imagery from the internet with high resolution. It’s been great to scale up with better equipment. I recently tested the Apple Vision Pro, but it’s too uncomfortable and expensive. There’s potential there, though.
Q: I love your use of color and its psychological effects. Could you talk about your approach to color in your films?
SM: My main approach to color came from my grad school advisor, Suzie Silver, who said bright colors look better on video. Especially with standard definition and low-res videos, that was definitely the case. The colors I like are healing. Pepto-Bismol pink and Imodium blue are healing colors, similar to the soothing colors we use for babies.
Q: At the end of Whispering Pines 10, Cynthia is released into the cosmos. Is she dead, or is she coming back? Is this the end of series?
SM: Cynthia dies almost every episode. She’s stuck in a loop of dying and then being back in her normal home, overcoming, transcending, or dissolving, and then repeating the loop. If you’ve ever had a bad trip and felt stuck in a loop, that’s where Cynthia is. She dies and comes back, transcending and returning to the mundane world.
Q: Whispering Pines 10 (2018) is the longest episode from the series. Have you ever thought about making a feature-length film to be shown in cinemas?
SM: Films focused on only one character might not be engaging for a long duration. I think a shorter time frame works better. The piece I have up now at MoMA is 15 minutes, which I find to be a good length. I’m not interested in feature-length films with a production crew. I’d rather work almost totally alone.
Q: Your work reminded me of Joan Jonas, especially her video Volcano Saga (1998). Was she an influence on you?
SM: Joan Jonas had a show in the Whitney in 2001 when I first came to New York. There’s another video I made in 2008 called Sand Saga that was an homage to Volcano Saga. When I found out I was going to do a show at MoMA during Joan’s retrospective, I was thrilled. She’s a huge influence, especially in how she performs with projection. I got to participate in a performance with her in 2010 through a friend who was her assistant. I’m a forever fan of her for sure, and now we’re at MoMA together.
Q: Do you believe art can heal, and is that a goal in your work?
SM: Artists like Emma Kunz, who made graph-based drawings as healing tools, potentially have healing art. I’m not sure if I’m healing, but I think artists like her are.