Raised by her Afro-centric poet duo mother and grandmother, Jessa Ciel combines the cosmic influence of The Last Poets and Nina Simone with the California suburban valley girl references of her Sacramento upbringing. Ciel melds visual technical savvy (from her film post-production days) with artistic communication (from her fine-art photography practice). This free-wheeling, vegan, bohemian wild Black woman is a fine-art photographer, video artist, filmmaker with an MFA from Cranbrook Academy of Art.
Q > How did “A Black Woman’s Declaration of Independence” come about?
A > I’d been thinking about a way to end my series, This Old American House, that I’d started within the white cube studio experience of my graduate program. I’d buried myself in the flag, I’d filled rooms with dirt, I’d buried screens playing Marilyn Monroe and “Blue Moon.” I was trying to figure out not only how to let go of the series but let go of the shit of America. I needed a way to let go of all of white America that I had gorged on during the pandemic, election, and Capitol storming.
Q > Reactions, perception shifts, questions: What do you hope viewers of “A Black Woman’s Declaration of Independence” will walk away with?
A > I hope viewers begin to excavate their own position and beliefs regarding race in America. I really hope for freedom, specifically freedom for Black Americans that watch this. I hope we look at this as an affirmation to say the hard things because our mental health, well-being, and voice are as important as any white person’s. We need to stop carrying the pain and discomfort of white American racism. It is not ours. I hope that white Americans that watch this, pick up the burden that Black Americans and other people of colour in America have been carrying for them. I hope that each person has an individual response reviewing their own actions in regard to race and equity and taking responsibility for them.
Q > What role does collaboration play in your creative process and the artworks that result?
A > I love working with my friends and I feel like I make friends through my work. In making this film, I wanted to reflect the kind of world that I want to live in. I asked my artist friends and colleagues of diverse racial backgrounds to interpret the list of objects that I selected for the film. Bringing them into the work made them reflect on their own experiences and how these symbols of trauma had shaped their own realities.
My friend Michiko Murakami who worked on the film, was born in Los Angeles and lived here during the Rodney King beating. She brought that experience into her creation of the ceramic baton in the film. My friend Garrett Daniells grew up in lower income neighbourhoods and talked about the liquor stores and churches that take up so much space. He chose to make an object for 40 acres and a mule by placing a donkey in a 40 oz bottle to reflect what Black people actually received from the broken promises of America. I felt especially concerned for my friend Brooklyn who is a Black woman artist in Ohio and made the noose. She, however, put a spin on the object and made a branch with a green noose growing out of it, a sign that Black people can make new life even in the face of our deaths.
Q > Growing. Rebelling. Trauma — What key experiences have shaped your life and creative output?
A > I have always been rebellious and always questioned structure and institutional assimilation. I never wanted to be cookie-cutter. I always wanted to be unique. That makes me strange, but it also makes me true to myself. My mother always taught my sister and I to question authority, although she was annoyed when we then questioned hers. My grandmother and mother always did what they wanted, and didn’t mind the way that it looked to others so it taught me that if I did what I felt was right for me, I would never have any real regrets.
Q > How has your creative practice evolved over time?
A > I started in the film industry in post production and thought I really wanted to be an editor. I was working in LA after I graduated from Cal State LA’s film and television programme. I became fatigued sitting in front of a monitor endlessly and decided I wanted something more experiential. I started photographing more, which was refreshing because it puts you in new environments. I deeply desired to learn more about the lens as an art practice and was accepted into Cranbrook Academy of Art’s photography program. Art school is very different from film school. I love theory, I love criticality, I love the headiness of diving deep into a work of art to decipher its meaning. My work has taken on more layers, it’s more emotional, and it’s much more considered than when I started.
Q > Who / what inspires you?
A > My mother and grandmother are poets and badass women who support and nurture their communities and honour their full Black selves wherever they go, whatever company they are in. They set strong boundaries and honour them. They love themselves and the people they surround themselves with. They are thoughtful about what they put into their bodies. They know when to leave and when to stay. They are my biggest fans, the smartest women I know, creative, efficient, and beautiful. They inspire me every day.
Q > Which rule do you break the most?
A > I don’t know what you mean by rules. I define rules as agreements to respect each other and the world we live in. I don’t follow any rule that doesn’t honour me but I love following the ones that do because they make it possible to be expansive and loving to each other.
Q > Which taboo topics do you think we ought to be discussing more?
A > All of them! We need to talk about abortion. We need to talk about how abortion is not political. It is not a bipartisan issue. It isn’t something to use to define your image. It is so personal, so individual, so complex, and something we need to stop judging and start understanding. We need to talk about women having full control of their bodies on every level. We need to talk about male entitlement and violence to everyone. We need to talk about men raping men. We need to talk about everything under the rug because it is insidious and it’s killing us. We need to speak up about harm and trauma until it ceases.
