Check it out now, and then go buy your camping supplies before it drops on Thursday March 29th.
Images courtesy of Supreme
Her selection of subjects is not based on finding those who resemble her; she doesn’t consider herself “moldable” enough. Instead, she’s drawn to people who look like “they could be from anywhere,” with no time or location stamp on them whatsoever.
Ironically, her Instagram account is filled with girls who are almost immediately recognizable — Charli XCX, Emma Chamberlain, Luna Blaise, Chloe Cherry, and Addison Rae to name a few. However, something about Chessa’s lens severs them from their familiar digital identities. Her photographs transcend the immediate recognizability of those verging on the realm of celebrity, offering a kind of invisibility against the objectification femme-identifying people often experience when perceived, especially online.
She reflects on her own digital persona, quipping that “it’s a very weird thing… being a girl in 2023 while also trying to put out art.” There’s a dissonance between these two aspects of her identity, culminating in her instinct to limit how much she showcases images of herself.
Out of Chessa’s 25 Instagram posts, only three include images of her. Of her limited selection of self-portraits, the most recent is an enigmatic photograph of a poster on her bed. On the poster is herself in a black long-sleeve tee and black shorts, posing with a Smart Water Bottle, as if simulating the action of actually laying on her bed with a water bottle. Captionless, there’s no hint or suggestion as to what it could mean, leaving it open to the perception of her audience, which is what happens to her work anyways — being on the internet.
Her photos have even outgrown social media — being featured in magazines and exhibitions — most recently, a cover story with King Kong magazine, and Anonymous gallery’s “Photography Then”, an exhibition curated by K. O. Nnamdie earlier this year. Her contribution to the exhibition portrayed some of the characteristics being brought to the forefront of American image-making currently — a simulation of the past. Chessa’s photography offers a snapshot as to the way in which cultural signifiers are flattened within our screens, rendered contextless and malleable.
Within her work, it’s American references — brands, eras, and iconic moments in pop culture — but rather than capitalizing on what’s trendy, she focuses on what isn’t, the “boring” in our everyday — as in minimal patterns, sportswear, emotionless gestures — enabling the absurd to emerge out of the ordinary.
Like most of us, she’s more comfortable being photographed by a friend, like with these shots Lulu Syracuse took around Los Angeles in the areas they grew up in.
The photos are Lulu's vibe, but also so Chessa's; in them, she could be anyone.
[Originally published in office magazine Issue 20, Fall-Winter 2023. Order your copy here]
What is your ideal office?
My ideal office would be a place with a view. 23 years in the same four walls…. It gets a little boring looking at the same view for that long.
How would your friends and family describe you?
A total ball-breaker.
For you, what is the most sacred place in New York?
The East Village, although day by day it becomes more of a shadow of the place it was when I was growing up.
What is the earliest memory that comes to mind when you think of Fun City?
I grew up in Queens, so my friends and I would sometimes cut school and wander around the city. I was probably 12 or 13 when this happened, but I walked into Fun City just to see what was going on in there because you could hear the machines running from outside. I was abruptly chased out, probably by Jonathan Shaw. All I remember hearing was, “GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE KID.”
How did you find your way there as an adult?
Fun City found me! I had a couple of friends working there back when the shop was open until 4:00 a.m. I was good for crowd control and talking to drunks at the time.
What was the first tattoo you ever did?
It was a pretty bad chrome sacred heart (which is actually making a comeback).
Do you have a favorite body part to tattoo?
Probably the back — it’s a nice flat canvas.
When was the last time you took a break?
I take breaks all the time since I moved out of New York City. I have really embraced the outdoors through camping and fishing. Simply getting outside is a really good reset button that I wish more people would take advantage of.
What advice would you give your younger self?
Lighten up and don’t be so angry.
Do you have a secret weapon?
If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret would it?
Hi Montana, how's it going?
I’m good, how are you?
I’m pretty good. It’s good to see you again, when was last time, past Thursday? Wednesday? Thursday.
I think it was Wednesday, but honestly I don't know. It was such a blur for me, kind of overwhelming.
In a good way though. It was a sexy evening in the red room. Great energy, good people - good cake? I wouldn't know because I missed it.
It was pretty perfect.
Wanna get into it?
Let’s get into it.
For those who are not familiar with you and your work, where are you from?
I was borned in Los Angeles, but I do not claim that. I moved to New York when I was maybe six? I remember turning seven here. I was really born again and again and then raised in NYC, I call myself a New York kid.
You're one of the rare ones! The sought after. I moved here myself rather recently and I’d say seven of every tenth person I’m running into is originally from elsewhere, mostly various parts from The States.
I know what you’re talking about. I went to college in the city – Parsons – and I remember meeting all these people realizing that oh they can drive!
A driver license equals "I’m from elsewhere."
Hence I don’t have one.
Neither do I...
You’re an original New York writer, how early on did you start exploring with poetry? Do you consider yourself a poet at this point?
I think I’ve always — ever since I was a little LA kid — wanted to write poetry. It’s something I've spoken openly about. But I’m also very interested in performance. I studied fine arts, and so that came with various forms of expression. Poetry has always been close to me but I’d say in the past three, four years I started diving into it deeply, developing a rigorous practice with it, even the visual art I make is very reliant on language and poetic images.
“Born a performer” — was the first thing my seatmate turned and said to me once you were done performin.
It makes it light, yet at the very same time there is definitely a self seriousness and sometimes weird restraints with poetry and with what I do. I’m just aiming for an entertaining, fun time. I want it to be explosive when I get on stage. I get high off of that.
Loving the attention?
Give it to me!
Do you write for yourself or for your audience, then? I ask myself this question from time to time.
I write for humans who can read, you know? It’s very simple to me, I don’t think about specific demographics or elements as such. I believe that the people who are partial to my writing are people who like to laugh at themself, are non judgemental but also critical — people who live under the weight of beholding everything at once.
Yet on some level, I write for myself first. It starts by making sense of the world and how beautiful it is and how confusing it is and how sexy it is and how wrong it is — it’s all of the above. But then I want everybody to read it. That’s why I try to keep the language simple and unassuming, so anyone has the ability to dive right in.
Are you one of those who relate to the “I write to create myself” -phrase?
No. I don’t resonate with any of that. Everything that one writes is obviously about oneself, you can’t deny that. But I try to step outside of myself as far as possible, I try to make it universal. And to make the world a bit more exciting for the people around me.
I think we can consider that achieved.
Do you want to tell us about the dogs, where do they enter the picture?
I’m fascinated by dogs and the relationship between dogs and humans. I find the relationship kind of disturbing and hilarious at the same time. It’s really weird, both sick and sweet. For example, if you take the smartest rocket scientist on earth, they still sound dumb when they are talking to their pets and, on top of that, in the same gesture, it makes them sound stupid. We’re earnesty and unconsciously performing a very real power dynamic with this living thing that we are more powerful than, and have ownership over.
It’s just a lot of fear and love and ridiculousness and earnestness all wrapped into these relationships, and I will eternally be fascinated with that.
It’s so performative. That’s the word. I adore watching people on the street whose dogs look like a copy-and-paste collage of themself.
Definitely. I’m not particularly a pet person, but watching people with their pets it’s an obsession of mine. My friends all have dogs so I can choose when I want to be around them, but I can’t have them all the time. I’m too close to a past life in which I was a dog to own a dog.
I'll quote that. Why Pomeranians though? What’s significant about them? I know nothing about the different breeds.
Well, I don't really know that much either, about anything really. But what strikes me about Pomeranians is how stunning they are. They look like a luxury. And they look like something man-made. On top of that Pomeranian is a beautiful word which also refers to the historical region of Pomerania, which for an American sensibility conjures almost mythological feelings. One might even think about Pompeii. The clash of a historical region and a man-made living creature.
When I think of Pomeranians walking I think of them strutting down the sidewalk.
Absolutely, they’re fabulous.
In what ways are poets similar to pomeranians?
They might have small brains.
Small brains, big ideas.
Small brains, big hearts.
Big heart, just as the man in my favorite poem out of the ones you performed to us. Is it called Tuesday Lunch? The one where the woman ends up dead.
It's called a Seikilos Epitaph.
Do you feel like life is as absurd as Seikilos Epitaph? The picture you’re painting is so bizarre, yet then again it feels like a normal wine lunch in West Village.
That piece actually started while I was out walking in the West Village. I noticed two couples having lunch and I started observing them, placing myself outside the scenario. One woman was coughing and her husband was pounding her back–really dramatically — to help her. I found that immediately hilarious because it’s so violent yet it’s an act of love and care. It’s got all the right opposing elements.
It ends up with her dying covered in low-fat whipped cream.
Out of this collection which is your personal favorite, do you have a dearest child?
Oh, that's a hard one. I don't have a favorite but I do love Divorce because of its simplicity. Many of the other poems take on a broader narrative. Yet the one that I always come back to is Boy Scouts of America, which is the one about the kids selling corn. It really weaves through American childhood, and it’s a little bit about me. My friends all love that, which makes me enjoy it even more.
It pins down the American experience, whatever that means. How much of a “pain in the ass” were you towards Fred [the illustrator]? I remember you acknowledging that in your mid-way-through-thank-you speech.
I consider myself a pain in the ass. I’m a perfectionist, I prefer things to be exactly how I imagine them. Fred is a brilliant artist, his collages have this fun and romantic sensibility that I love, and I felt like it accompanied my written words really well.
Him and I went through alot of phases of drafts. We started super zoomed in–in the back of the book there is a picture of a lady with a fork over–then we zoomed all the way out with this giant world map and in the end we found ourselves in the middle ground with what ended up being the cover.
It was all Fred’s mind. And then there was me relentlessly nagging and nagging “let's try it this way.” Ok. “Well, why don't we try it this way?” “Why don't we try doing this?” Months and months of back and forth. He was patient with me, Fred is really so sweet, I mean all of them are; Dirt Child [publishers] too. Gideon and Mal, they’re both fabulous to work with. I was constantly calling them about nonsense in the middle of the night, they were fully asleep.
Pain in the ass indeed. Yet served with pleasure. Did all of you know each other ahead of the project or how did the constellation form?
I knew Gideon through the reading scene. They actually published my friend's chap book — Carson Jordan’s Good For Her — and so I sent my work over and they were like, "Let’s do it!”. Fred and I met while I was living in Pittsburgh for a moment, through the art community there.
Love it when good projects bring together good people.
Totally. That's what the party felt like too. I felt like everyone was just having a good time.
Indeed, it was such an energetic atmosphere. Everybody was cheering, I heard some (human) barking. The crowd was buying books. For those who missed the evening, where can they get their hands on their own copy?
You can purchase it on the Dirt Child website. It’s also going to be at Retail Pharmacy, in New York, where we will be hosting another reading on November 18th.
Save the date!
Save the date.
And you save me some cake, this time?
I will absolutely save you some cake. But you have to let me know — do you want a centerpiece, a corner piece or mostly icing?
Mostly icing, always.
Me too. I love the icing.
