Interview with Lore Alexander: Queer, Creative Magic(k) Series
Meet a queer creator!
Welcome to “Queer, Creative Magic(k),” a multi-week series here at All The Threads. This series features interviewees at the intersection of queerness and art—a celebration of the resistance of queer joy to fight fascism. Today’s guest is Lore Alexander, copyeditor and art coach.
Tell us about your work/favorite current projects.
I am the ugly art coach, as well as a copyeditor, which I agree is a funny combination. I’ve made it my job to encourage people to not worry about perfection while simultaneously getting paid to polish up their work. But there would be nothing to edit if people didn’t first have the guts to make something terrible—that is where we have to be willing to start. To that end, I encourage perfectionists to stop policing themselves and to make “ugly” art as a way of challenging their perception on what is “ugly” and why they might be so afraid of it. As a perfectionist myself, I use ugly art as a consistent part of my art practice as I forever continue to dig into process over product.
Right now, I’m working on coaching myself as old patterns reemerge and fresh waves of creative fear start to raise their heads when new, scary opportunities come along. In that space of oncoming waves and returned uncertainty, I’ve been enjoying intuitive painting, painting my feelings, and writing down my dreams. There is so much room to move even when we don’t have things figured out. To not have answers and to feel empowered to take action regardless. Coming from a background where I used to be terrified to move, always paralyzed in the face of possible mistakes, I am comforted that my creativity can continue moving me forward even when I feel stuck.
How does your queer identity interact with your work?
My queer identity came about because of my work. For much of my life I considered myself a straight, cis woman, mostly because I didn’t give light to parts of me that I had been taught were off-putting, weird, ugly, “sinful,” etc. When I started my ugly art practice, my perception of what “ugly” meant began to change. I would intend to make something ugly and end up making something beautiful or funny or interesting or thought-provoking. When I actually allowed the thing I had labeled “bad” to come out of me and to take up space in the real world, I was surprised by the feelings it evoked. It made me wonder what other parts of me I’d been hiding. What would happen if I allowed those parts of me to rise to the surface?
I soon came out as nonbinary and have been riproariously queer ever since. Making and celebrating ugly art allows me to be exactly who I am, and I hope others experience this same kind of acceptance when they make ugly art with me, where they can be whoever they are and so can their art.
How do you inject wonder and whimsy into your work?
Sometimes I like to let fate decide what I make. I have color dice that I roll to determine what colors to work with. I’ll go on walks and pick a color to follow, turning whenever I see the color purple, for example. I pull tarot and oracle cards when I’m not sure what to art about.
I also rarely have an image in my head when I start creating, so I begin with letting my hand move however it wants to on the page, leaning in to the energy I’m feeling. I start with whatever squiggle or splash of color wants to be there, then I just follow where that goes. Sometimes I end up with a bunch of squiggles; sometimes I end up with a picture of a jellyfish—both delightful in their own right and always a surprise outcome.
How do you resist fascism with your work?
In my editing work, I get to work for publishers and authors who are writing about the oppressive systems we live under and about the beautiful possible futures they imagine free from those systems. Getting to be part of their process is extremely fulfilling and gives me so much hope in resistance.
And in my art, I believe anything that wastes time is a beautiful way to be antifascist. Making art that serves no purpose but to make yourself feel more human. Making art that taps into the beautiful fact that there will forever be parts of you that cannot be controlled. No matter what laws are enacted, what violent measures are used: we are nature, we are powerful, and we are untameable. Messy, undefineable art can be a reminder of that in dark times.
What does queer magic(k) mean to you?
Queer magic is this spectacular thing that can give hope to anyone who feels stuck or unseen or hopeless. Even before I came out, my queer friends were the people who always made me feel the most free. They made me feel like change was possible, someday, somewhere, at least for them if not for me. But then it was possible for me. It’s possible for all of us. Even if you don’t identify as queer, the magic of queerness is accessible to anyone who is willing to question and learn and unlearn. Queer magic means breaking through the walls created by society, religion, family structures, etc. It means being willing to examine the masks you’ve been wearing or been told to wear and knowing who you are beneath it all. Even more so, having the courage to allow who you really are to go maskless in a scary, often judgmental world. To subvert and surprise with your most gloriously authentic self. It means transforming fear and loss into joy and family. It’s beautiful!
How does your work connect you to the community?
I have been putting on workshops online for years now and this year I began putting on workshops in person in my community. From art workshops at the library to spontaneous community art projects at the Tacoma Night Market, I get to encourage folks around me to drop whatever facade they might be holding onto and just make a mess, not worrying what the outcome will be. It has been a joy to get recognized as the “ugly art person” or the “one with the feelings paintings.” I feel like a little art gremlin who gets to roam around town reminding people that they should express themselves from time to time without worrying what they look like. It’s great.
I currently host a monthly junk journaling workshop at CraftyAF, and I have plans for more library workshops in the new year.
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Be sure to check out Lore’s work at ScribeAndSunshine.com.
Join us next week for more queer, creative magic(k)!
In Wonder,
Ivy Zeller (she/they)
Thanks for reading! I’m a queer, disabled writer/editor, and what I do is made possible by readers like you. You can support me in this journey in a number of ways:
Thanks so much for including me in this series! It’s an honor 💖