A new show at Arizona State University, “Anemoia: Expressions of Subcultural Longing," explores a set of paradoxical emotions.
The Show's Sam Dingman spoke with the exhibit's curator, Kadence Gonzalez.
Full conversation
SAM DINGMAN: It was Nikki who made the call to end things. She finally came to me and said she was in love with someone else. I’d actually known that for a while, but I kept thinking there was some way I could make her fall back in love with me. And even after we split, I still couldn’t bring myself to believe it. I spent months staring at this picture of her standing in front of a jewelry rack, imagining an afternoon where I bought her a necklace and we walked through the park holding hands.
Now, that afternoon with the necklace — that never actually happened.
It’s an alternate reality version of what did happen the day that photo was taken. That was the day Nikki first told me she was having doubts.
Eventually, I stopped looking at old pictures and instead started listening to music instead - specifically, this one song by the band Trout Fishing in America. It’s called “You Can’t Get There From Here.”
I’ve never really understood why those lyrics made me feel better. Logically, they shouldn’t. The singer is saying - this place you’re pining for, that you’d be willing to drive all night to get to? It doesn’t even exist. But I listened to that song over and over and over again. And it helped. Kadence Gonzalez knows what I’m talking about.
KADENCE GONZALEZ: It started with a feeling that I had. And I kind of figured, like, “Surely, other people people feel this way too.”
DINGMAN: I mean, that’s why I’m here, so …
Kadence and I are standing in the Harry Wood Gallery at ASU. Kadence is wearing all black - black shirt, black jeans, black shoes, black eyeliner. She’s telling me about her thesis project, which is on display here at the gallery. It’s an art exhibition called “Anemoia: Expressions of Subcultural Longing.” And that word - anemoia - it turns out that’s the name for the feeling I used to get when I looked at the necklace picture, and that I still get when I listen to Trout Fishing in America.
Anemoia means nostalgia for something you never actually experienced. Kadence discovered the word when she started examining her own sense of longing for a place that doesn’t exist.
GONZALEZ: It started out as an interest in third spaces? So there’s the first place, which is home, second place is work, and third place is places like bars that you can go to interact with your community. A place where you don’t have to think about your work life or anything, very casual, brings you joy.
DINGMAN: If the theme song to "Cheers" just popped into your head, you know what a third space is. A place where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came. But just like a clean, well-lit bar full of functional alcoholics who speak in perfectly-timed wisecracks, real third spaces are hard to find. Kadence knows, she spent years trying.
GONZALEZ: For me, places that are full of queer people were difficult to find. It’s difficult when you live in, like, Gilbert, Arizona. It’s not like you can go out and be surrounded by a bunch of queer alternative people.
DINGMAN: That’s part of what led Kadence to dress in all black.
GONZALEZ: I definitely wear all black all the time. I really like goth culture and fashion. Using fashion to kind of assert yourself as an outsider, someone who doesn’t really, who’s not trying to fit in with the larger society. And I also feel a bit of imposter syndrome with this subculture, and that plays into my whole theme of this exhibition. A lot of people still feel like an outsider.
DINGMAN: For the exhibition, Kadence put out a call to artists for works inspired by their relationship to subculture and anemoia. This, she suspects, is part of what’s behind her generation’s embrace of older aesthetics they weren’t even around for. For example, as one of her artists captures: '90s punk.
GONZALEZ: This one is called "Requiem of a Lonely Teenage Punk" by Chandler Ellerbusch. This is a piece that is a lot of patches of black fabric stitched together, but on it there’s tooth floss, that makes a drawing of a teenager moshing in his bedroom covered in posters, the classic idea of a punk bedroom. And I really like this because it takes inspiration from crust punk patches, and uses that to make this image of a teenager moshing alone in his bedroom. In our generation you can feel connected to a subculture but still be lonely.
DINGMAN: What do you think of the fact that they used dental floss?
GONZALEZ: I think that’s really cool. I think it speaks to the resourceful kind of DIY nature of punk, this is what I have on hand, so I’m gonna use that. Really cool. I keep saying cool.
DINGMAN: No, I mean — cool in this instance is interesting — cool is shared cultural anemoia. It’s like '50s lexicon.
GONZALEZ: Exactly — that’s why I’m saying it so much!
DINGMAN: In one corner of the gallery, Kadence has a table with folded paper and markers. She says it’s a place for visitors to express their own associations with the themes of the show.
GONZALEZ: This one stood out to me: being over 50 and still raving. Music makes me happy, being happy makes me dance. At your next rave, say hi to the elders.
DINGMAN: Music makes me happy, being happy makes me dance. It reminds me of my experience with Nikki and Trout Fishing in America: Music makes me remember. Remembering helps me forget.
GONZALEZ: You know, not everything has to be so deep! Ya know, I really wish I had a deeper explanation for wearing all black other than I really like it.
DINGMAN: That’s a very interesting idea, “not everything has to be so deep” is kind of a deep idea! Because look at this work everyone has made.
GONZALEZ: It’s so interesting because you can talk about this forever and never really reach an end, and I think that’s really cool. Cool…
DINGMAN: “Anemoia: Expressions of Subcultural Longing” is on view through this evening at the Harry Wood Gallery at ASU.
