A SERIES OF WORKS EXPLORING LOSS, RESILIENCE, AND LEANING ON THE COMMUNITY AS A TOOL OF SELF PRESERVATION.
Rebecca Ustrell at the reception of Immersive Unicorn at
Curated Chronicles, December 11, 2021
Art Illustrations and Photography by Rebecca Ustrell
Published 04/11/2022 6:10Am PST
This essay was published by Curious Publishing’s print edition, The Pomonan is co-publishing this essay.
JUNE 23, 2020
CLPPNG blares on the stereo of his champaign BMW as we race back from a very hot and amorous day at the beach somewhere at the end of Orange County.
I have always found pulsing and hard bass a form of meditation and cleansing. The throbbing synths and harsh vocals compel me to zone out at the horizon of the long overpasses and desert landscapes. On days like this, time behaves how I imagine it in indie films-drawn out, almost boring, but something significant in every small detail of the day. Sam and I exchange jokes and talk shit about the disappointments in our life. It’s a form of therapy that only works when someone really knows you, someone that knows that you’re just being hyperbolic when you say shit like “I work so much fucking harder than people know.”
We’re heading back to my new-ish place of residence, a room at a friend’s home in Lincoln Park where I live with two roommates M and H. We park the car and start unloading from our day trip. A joint in an Altoids container, a box of cigarettes, a blanket, and some card games. It’s the middle of the first year of the Pandemic, yet somehow we’re both employed at arguably non-essential jobs - luxury wine and spirit shops - so we part ways that night in order to make it to work the next day.
I indulged in the usual routine at home that night: drew a bit in the newly converted covered porch/art studio, fed Phonte and retired early that evening. The house was unusually quiet that night so I fell asleep rather easily. Both of my roommates were out either at a party or working late at the restaurant which they both spent a significant amount of time at.
The Fire, iPhone Image, June 24, 2020
A photograph from the artist’s personal collection.
JUNE 24, 2020 - THE FIRE
I woke suddenly around 3am to the sound of my roommate M shouting at the other end of the house. This wasn’t inherently alarming in that we have been known to have impromptu parties at all hours of the night quite frequently. This time was different. I closed my eyes and a few minutes later I hear him scream, “Rebecca get out of the fucking house right now.” I’m naked and struggle to switch a light on to get on clothing as I attempt to calibrate my eyes and figure out what exactly is going on. Phonte is curled up at the end of the bed and looking at me with a crooked head. “Rebecca! FIRE!!” Now I am fully panicking. I opened my bedroom door and a bright orange light glowed from the living room. An intense heat radiates from the light and hits my face with a strong gust of wind. I quickly shut the door and open a window, throwing Phonte out. All of this was instinctual. I don’t know if I actually perceived the reality of my situation but I knew I had to act quickly. I grabbed my purse and passport and jumped out of my window. I am standing on the lawn when my emotions catch up with me.
Holy shit, the house is on fire. Where is H? Where is M? Are the animals all out? It’s too dangerous to go back in.
Charred Remains of Curious Book, iPhone Image, June 24, 2020 A photograph from
the artist’s personal collection.
THE MENTAL TOLL - PTSD
Do you ever get caught in a loop in your head? Sometimes the audio of a song you listened to won’t stop playing over and over, sometimes it’s something someone said to you.
The portion of time between the 3 AM and 11 PM on that day, June 24, 2020 is an intense, scrambled explosion of recollections. I spend the night experiencing auditory hallucinations hearing H screaming in pain from 2nd degree burns, smelling whiffs of ash from the house fire, and hearing CLPPNG playing over and over in my dreams which last around 1 hour before I shake myself awake throughout the night. The room I am now in is pristine, and the sterility of the surroundings makes the reality of my situation seem fictional. I am sleeping at a friend’s place a couple of cities over. Their condo has a spare room usually used as an AirBNB. The bed is huge, and the room is the size of a cave. I get up to use the bathroom and I see a strange and twisted face in a window nearby, it’s my reflection in the mirror.
I lost all of my possessions that night except for what the fire department, and my partner Sam were able to salvage from the ash-caked room I once dwelled in. I was able to recover my new computer which I bought for my start-up Curious Publishing, some cherished stuffed animals, and some books. My clothes were unsalvageable and all of my artwork and inventory for Curious Publishing did not survive. My roommates weren’t as lucky. Their rooms were reduced to a pile of ash.
“SHE’LL BE FINE”
I think that there’s this misconception that people like me couldn’t possibly be struggling or have a dark side. From the outside I am an innocent, young, Latinx Womxn who works in the nonprofit sector. A community leader for projects in two towns I lived near, and now a successful Project Director for a start up in the arts. When the house fire happened it forced me to slow down and reflect on how far I’ve come, and realize what I wanted for myself.
Phonte, iPhone Image, Spring 2020
A photograph from the artist’s personal collection.
Bye Bye Baby, iPhone Image, April 2020A photograph from the artist’s personal collection.
THE CHASM
2020 was not an easy year for me up to this point. On April Fools Day I had a miscarriage. I held a small burial and ceremony in a remote location in Upland with my partner Sam in the middle of a quarry on a sunny day. I spent a bit of time reflecting on my mortality and sexuality through various illustrations featuring Womxn in fantastical erotic scenarios - and slept and slept and slept. I fell into a deep depression and wanted nothing but the company of my cat and to drown my sorrows indulging in films like Midsommar. Yeah that dude totally deserved to be sewn into a bear and lit on fire, I thought to myself. Luckily, my body bounced back quickly and I was able to proceed for a long time as if it never happened. Around the time this happened, I was coming off of a short but intense cocaine habit which lasted around 2 years. It was not my first experience with addiction, and at the time, I couldn’t say if it would be my last since it is a self-identifying truth. A month before the house fire was the death of George Floyd where I found myself scrambling to contribute what I could to fighting police brutality through art activism and cash donations. Sam and I were working on a series of illustrations called “The Social Justice Tarot”, and I decided to sell one of the pieces as a print, donating all proceeds to the Minnesota Freedom Fund. A recurring theme throughout the illustrations was fire, coincidentally.
From the Social Justice Tarot Project by
Rebecca Ustrell & Samuel Signer, 2020
CONTINUING THE WORK, DESPITE IT ALL
From my perspective, it seemed like all of the huge accomplishments I had made with Curious Publishing were suddenly tiny and not enough to keep the community inspired, but nonetheless, I continued my project as each edition of CURIOUS came out with stronger features than the issue before. Community support for Curious was overwhelming and I credit the Inland Empire for keeping it alive throughout the Pandemic. What I didn’t believe until after the fire was that Curious is self-sustaining and beyond my control. It’s truly a community-owned project at this point. I try to listen as often as possible to what people want to see represented in our projects and make sure that the project continues to have a positive impact on the community. I find that now I lead best when I am an active listener, and an advocate for underrepresented artists.
Untitled, india ink on paper
From the series “Lush” By Rebecca Ustrell 2018
REBECCA THE BLANK
Most people know me one of two ways: Rebecca Ustrell, the Founder of Curious Publishing, or Rebecca, the artist. One persona, the Founder, is public facing
and approachable. I’m the person to help you get your print project accomplished, the person who might be able to get you into a gallery show, the person who definitely knows the next art event happening near you that you should be a part of...Rebecca at Curious Publishing is your ally and always available to hear your ideas and help you troubleshoot an art musing. Then there’s Rebecca, the artist, a semi-publicly known, but mysterious person who over-shares online, and under-shares in person. Rebecca an artist is known for her erotic drawings decorated with lush flora and fauna. She is eager to experience everything possible in life and isn’t afraid to indulge in whatever may ignite her passion and bring inspiration. What few people have seen is the deep void that lives within me.- the child I felt inside of me was crying out for protection and comfort. Why am I here? Why doesn’t anyone know what I need? Why can’t I seem to escape tragedy? Why do bad things always happen to me?
Sam + Me, iPhone Image, Fall 2020
A photograph from the artist’s personal collection.
PEAKS AND VALLEYS
I am a sexual assault survivor and a victim of child abuse. As a form of self preservation, I will not go into a detailed account of these experiences. However, I find it important to acknowledge it as an experience that identifies me and influences how I perceive and interact with others. I have issues with intimacy and trust which continue to affect my relationships today. I believe that because I didn’t receive therapy growing up, I wasn’t able to begin learning how to cope until I had formed more concrete opinions about myself, and how the world works. I know that this void I feel inside is a place that will always be there, but will only be as large as I allow it to become. I’ve now learned that the spiritual vessel that is Rebecca is as infinite as the universe. And with an infinite universe comes endless possibilities, paths, peaks and valleys to cross.
1,2,3 Easy Street, Posca Marker on paper, 2021
IMMERSIVE UNICORN
In my new series, Immersive Unicorn, I attempt to override these deeply painful experiences with a colorful retelling of my personal anguish through vibrant panels inspired by the Unicorn Tapestries made in the South Netherlands around 1495–1505 mixed with my personal take on lowbrow, pop-surrealism. The piece that has the most compelling imagery in the series so far is “1,2,3 Easy Street” (LEFT) 2021. This self portrait is a composite of defining moments of my transition to adulthood and my own experiences as a would-be mother. The smiling kewpie baby accompanies me and my beloved cat as we catch a train to our next adventure. Plenty of snacks and laughs along the way. Baby and Me are dressed in matching clown collars, eager to put on a show for anyone we cross paths with. We’re delighted to meet you and excited to add your story to our never ending scrap book of laughs.
Immersive Unicorn, India ink and acrylic on paper, 2020
The first work in this series “Immersive Unicorn No.1” (RIGHT) is a reinterpretation of the Unicorn Tapestries which originally depicts a unicorn with a collar, tied to a palm tree, and enclosed in a circular pen amongst a field of wildflowers. In this version, the unicorn does not make an appearance, and instead you’re left with a palm enclosed in a circular pen. It forces the viewer to ponder what should be held captive, or what has escaped captivity. From my perspective, the viewer is the unicorn, running through each panel of this series on a wild adventure.
I believe deep pain transforms us. As a form of escapism, I chose art as a tool to reclaim my pain. As humans we regenerate our cells constantly, and I believe that to be true of our capacity to thrive. There is no empty chasm within any of us, only deep pools which can be traversed. There’s new land on the other side more beautiful than we’ve ever seen. And I don’t mean some higher ethereal power shit. I mean visceral and real, pulsing beauty - the vessels that hold us.
