A World With No Safe Word: An Interview of Nicolette Mishkan

Nicolette Mishkan
Lethe’s Harem, 2024-2025
Oil on linen
48 x 60 in121.9 x 152.4 cm

interview by Summer Bowie

What if death were just a blackout between this life and the next? With its memories wiped clean in a cycle of spiritual cleansing, your soul might carry only faint notions of who you once were, like a SIM card with a brand new hippocampus. Such is the gist of the River Lethe, an underworld tributary from ancient Greek mythology whose waters wash away all remembrance of one’s existence. In Lethe’s Tavern, the fabled Greek river becomes a watering hole where painter Nicolette Mishkan’s ego goes to slosh around, bifurcate, and eventually sing its swan song. Informed equally by Sufi mysticism wherein wine is used to symbolize the intoxicating effects of divine love, she annihilates her sense of individuality by eliminating any distinction between herself and others. Together, these figures revel in the ultimate surrender to their fate, a resplendent transcendence into the unknown where who she once was lies buried without even an epitaph. The following interview took place at Megan Mulrooney on the occasion of the exhibition’s closing and has been edited for length.

SUMMER BOWIE: I want to start by talking about the River Lethe—what it is and how it came to be the crux of this body of work. 

NICOLETTE MISHKAN: I came across an essay on the River Lethe in Greek mythology one day, and I was really intrigued by this image of a river in the underworld where if you drink from it, it wipes your memory clean. You want to avoid drinking the water so that you can keep the memories from your previous existences and carry them into the next life. So, it feeds into this imagery of an eternal cycle—the forgetting and redoing and forgetting again.

Before that, I had been thinking about wine from a Sufi perspective and the belief that it brings you closer to the divine. I like the mixture of that imagery in terms of divine intoxication as a form of spiritual love and also the idea of dispersing your ego and memories and thoughts. Depending on the level of consciousness you bring into it, it'll either connect you with something higher or return you to the cycle of renewal.

BOWIE: It’s interesting in this way that you’re discouraged from drinking the water, but of course, we all come into the world with a fresh slate. So, these works propose a wonderful embrace of that surrender. I love the way these figures are experiencing moments of everything from folly to ecstasy to utter exhaustion. There’s an aspect of labor you can see that really speaks to the more challenging aspects of submission. 

The show also makes reference to the Sufi concept of ‘fana,’ which has to do with ego death and connection to the divine. And it’s also the first show you’ve done where you appear as each and every figure. I like how you approach this idea of ego death in a very counterintuitive way, because you’ve lost all that makes you unique.

MISHKAN: Yeah, I mean from a practical standpoint, I wanted it to be consistent. And I like the idea of multiple selves that represent either your multiple potential realities or different timelines merging, or even just the idea that everyone is a reflection of you. Every work an artist makes is inevitably going to be a self-portrait. Plus, it’s easier because I’m always available..

BOWIE: Are you photographing yourself from multiple angles and then placing those in, or are you finding that you need certain angles as you’re in the process of creating the painting, and then going back and re-photographing? 

MISHKAN: It’s both. It’s like, oh, I know what I want, so let me just…. It’s embarrassing. I set up the camera and I’m like, [assumes a few different poses] you know. And then I took videos and grabbed stills from those as well. 

BOWIE: The movement aspect is really clear, so I can see the way that film stills would lend themselves well to these figures. One major recurrent theme across all of your works is the way that they empower people to connect to the divine feminine. Can you define what the divine feminine is for you? 

MISHKAN: When I started the series, I was thinking of the role of wine according to the Sufis and then it branched out into other cultures and their relationships with wine. And then, I was thinking about this river as a trance into the subconscious, in this moon-like place. As I kept going, I got into more of this story of the feminine descent. Part of that is this cyclical period in everyone’s life, it happens a million times, where she’s forced to start over. Part of that is releasing all the attachments to who she is: I’m a mother, a daughter, a businesswoman, an artist—letting go of all those identity markers. It’s also about letting go of her attachment to a very patriarchal society. We’re raised in this logical, mathematical world that forces us to let go of what makes us feminine: our intuition, connection to our body, emotionality. These are the things that make women strong. Sometimes it just catches up with you and you have to evolve. And part of that evolution is the descent into your subconscious, facing certain things, letting go, coming back.

Nicolette Mishkan
Lethe's Tavern, 2024-2025
Oil on linen
48 x 60 in121.9 x 152.4 cm

BOWIE: The subject of female empowerment comes up a lot in your work, but I feel like your take on it is a direct reflection of not just being a woman, but being an Iranian-American woman.

MISHKAN: It’s just so ingrained. I grew up in America and I was never forced to cover up the way they are, but I still see instances where I’m doing that dance. They’re treated as second-class citizens, essentially, and it’s terrifying to see how a country can go so far backwards so quickly. We see the women over there fighting for rights that we have here, but we take it for granted because we don’t realize how fragile it is. 

BOWIE: Right. The Woman, Life, Freedom movement is asking for something that we currently have in America. But, the far-right has already dismantled Roe v. Wade and defunded family planning clinics that provide everything from birth control to STD screening and pap smears. So, we may be allowed to expose more of our bodies, but the misogynistic foundation of Western society is always pulling back on the liberties that we assume are fixed because our grandmothers already fought for them and won.

MISHKAN: A lot of it comes from this religious mentality. You’ll see people who leave one extreme religion only to find another one with equally extreme practices. Coming back to the series, I want to appreciate the feminine and embrace her because I think that without that, we’re imbalanced, and you can see it all over the place. It’s very imbalanced; women are so repressed. And it has to get so extreme. Women have to go out there and cut their hair off. In Iran, they’re getting their eyes shot out and it’s all because of their hair.

BOWIE: The young women of Iran are fighting back in this way that is just unbelievably intrepid. It’s extremely humbling. But speaking of extremes, a lot of people don’t know about your previous practice as a performance artist and the character you called Permaid. Was that the genesis of this avatar that you found in the siren?

MISHKAN: Permaid was a project I did with my friend and it was just purely out of love. We didn’t really understand what we were doing. We would put this faceless latex mermaid out in the world and take photos and it was candid. But in the end, I realized it was a lot about learning to embrace yourself and all your differences and loving every part of yourself.

After that project ended, I really wanted to continue exploring the siren theme. And part of Permaid was this inherent S&M thing, which is just always in the back of my mind. It’s about sexuality whether I want it to be or not. But, it’s more this idea of what you consent to in your day-to-day life and how we live in a world where there’s no safe word. So, if you are aware of what you’re consenting to, you’re far more empowered. The mermaid is such a feminine symbol. She mirrors women in today’s society very well and the way that our strengths are held against us. 

BOWIE: There’s an extremism about her in the sense that she’s faceless, and already, the mermaid is basically sexless. Yet, she is this symbol of sensuality and in many European seafaring mythologies she is a temptress who lures sailors to inclement, stormy waters. So, if you saw her it was a sign that you were going to die. Yet, Permaid’s facelessness really impedes her ability to beguile. There’s not an inch of skin exposed—it’s almost like a sexy burka. I imagine it was incredibly difficult to breathe in this costume. 

MISHKAN: Oh yeah, it’s very psychological. You freak out while your face is covered and your breath gets short. It suffocates a little bit, but you just kind of breathe into it. It’s very weird. I’d be in that suit sometimes for a very long time. I imagine it’s similar to a burka, where you can see them, but they can’t see you. It's very dehumanizing and weird from a sensory perspective. It’s like a sensory deprivation tank. You can get zen with it and eventually you get used to it, but I didn’t really enjoy it.

BOWIE: There’s a compelling paradox with your body on full display and your complete anonymity. There’s a lot of symbolism there in terms of the female experience. And in these works, we can see traces of Permaid’s with the black latex mask, but now it’s a hood with her face exposed. She’s been liberated in a certain respect, but we’re reminded that it’s still her. Can we talk about your use of water in these works as a symbol of rebirth? 

MISHKAN: I wanted to create a world that’s like this entrance back into the womb. And part of that approach was in these thin washes of paint that build up the darkness. Also, in a lot of literary symbolism, water, when it's out of control, can represent a sort of mental schizoid state. And I like the idea of water as a subconscious realm of collective thought progression. That’s where I imagined the heroine entering—in this deep subconscious shadow world.

Nicolette Mishkan
Ritual of Forgetting, 2024
Oil on linen
24 x 20 in61 x 50.8 cm

BOWIE: There are a couple other motifs that you play with that take the form of talismans, like the latex hoods and poppy flowers. Can you talk about those?

MISHKAN: The latex hoods throughout my paintings prior to this have always been my nod to S&M. But with this series, I wanted it to be a representation of the ego, like that last thing holding her together. And as the series keeps going, they start coming off. With the poppies, I was researching symbols for forgetting, and they started coming up. I like that intersection of this addictive, devotional, all-consuming vice.

BOWIE: You play a lot with this juxtaposition between inebriation and purification. There’s the Dionysian belief that wine brings you closer to the gods that you’re referencing, and then this mythology of the river Lethe making you forget—pulling you away from yourself.

MISHKAN: Yeah, the symbolism of wine comes up in so many different cultures. You have wine representing the blood of Christ. For the Zoroastrians, it represented the fire of the sun and a kind of substitute for blood. In a lot of cultures, wine is something that connects you to the divine or life force, and I like that idea. Intoxication is a process of stepping outside of yourself and connecting to something else. Like this, the heroine is sort of letting down her ego, she's letting down her walls, forgetting her disconnection with others, and reconnecting with her shadow side, as well as her instincts and intuition.

BOWIE: There’s several interesting art historical references that we see in this series, particularly Dorothea Tanning and Leonor Fini. Something I find really intriguing is not just your connection to them as Surrealist female painters that work with the body, and mortality, and nature. But on a personal level, Dorothea Tanning had this history of working in fashion illustration, much like you. And then with Leonor Fini, she had that famous photograph by Henri Cartier-Bresson, where she’s nude, bathing in water, and she has this very classical hourglass figure, much like your own, which is a relatively rarefied body type. Do you remember how you discovered either of their work?

MISHKAN: I'd say both of them were always kind of floating around as soon as I got internet access. I was coming across the imagery and it always really spoke to me. You look at it and sometimes you have no idea what's going on. It really touches a part of my brain. But I think Surrealism has historically been a place where women were taken seriously. It's a great entry point for any female artist because it's so welcoming for some reason.

BOWIE: I mean, part of me wonders how much of it had to do with how sexually liberated the female Surrealists were. Like, the narrative around Max Ernst discovering Dorothea Tanning through her Birthday painting, which was a topless self-portrait and then leaving Peggy Guggenheim shortly thereafter for her is pretty telling. Or the fact that Cartier-Bresson’s most famous and valuable photograph is of Leonor Fini nude with a shaved pubis. I want to talk about this palette you chose for these works because it’s very different from your previous works. These wine-dark reds, greenish grays, ashen roses. Where did the inspiration for this palette come from? 

MISHKAN: I don’t remember why these colors happened. The imagery that came up in my research and imagination was in this palette and I really liked it, so I went with it. And as I kept going, I started to realize that it's actually really moldy. And I think mold speaks well to this idea of breakdown and regeneration. It wasn’t intentional, but it works. 

Nicolette Mishkan
Midnight Abyss, 2024-2025
Oil on linen
24 x 36 in61 x 91.4 cm

BOWIE: [Gestures toward a painting] I love that one so much because she gets to this point where she almost can’t take it anymore. It reminds me of the last stage of child labor right before you start to push. I’m curious about the embodiment of the siren and how she guides your way of living.

MISHKAN: You know, at the end of the day I’m a very cheesy girl; I’m very cringy. I just like mermaids and I chose to lean into it. I always loved them as a kid and I still love them. She’s so endlessly fascinating and the more I think about her, the more dimensions she reveals to me. Whether it’s the way she’s historically demonized as representation of the whore, or valorized as the divine feminine—a woman who's strong in her emotions and intuition. She's a timeless symbol.

BOWIE: Do you drink while you paint? 

MISHKAN: There was a period where sometimes I would drink the night before. There was something about the hangover that was interesting to lean into. And then after a while it wasn’t…

BOWIE: You can feel that with these. You can feel the ecstatic moments of drinking and the eventual burn out. Especially with that moment where you’re pouring yourself another drink and the version of yourself receiving it is like, this is a good idea

MISHKAN: That’s what I’m doing when I’m drinking. I’m just really having fun with myself. But the addiction aspect is always floating in the back of my head. The addict is in me and I’ve dated so many of them. But I embrace it because there's something about the addict mentality that is passionate. I like the intensity. I even like the destructive aspect. I don't fight it. I just try to appreciate it. When it comes to these ideas of connecting with the divine, it’s both intoxicating and kind of delusional. If you’re drinking to forget, the cycle just repeats itself versus if you're celebrating, it's a different thing in my mind.

 

Nicolette Mishkan
Limbic Override, 2025
Oil on canvas
14 x 10 in35.6 x 25.4 cm

 

BOWIE: Are they doing both?

MISHKAN: In this series, I like the idea that you could read it a million different ways. Maybe she’s ending back where she started, or maybe her rebirth is leading to a positive transformation.

BOWIE: On the subject of rebirth and a certain feminine continuum, you originally learned to paint as a child because your mom taught oil painting and you used to sit through her classes. I'm curious how your mom feels about your painting practice?

MISHKAN: She’s very supportive. She’s super open-minded and liberal compared to a typical Iranian woman, but when I first sent her the list of work she was like, “Oh, there’s a lot of nudity, and I wanted to bring my friends.” And I was like, “Don't worry about it. You don’t have to bring them.” But then, she did anyway. And I do love that this is really my connection to her in a way. It’s so deeply a part of her that it’s part of me too. And she did teach me. I remember being super young and her being like, “Okay, here are your colors, start mixing.” And that's how I learned oil painting. 

BOWIE: So, it sounds like you’re challenging her in a lot of ways and she’s growing from it in terms of pushing through that discomfort.

MISHKAN: Yeah. I mean, she’s also why I got into classical painting because that’s just what I grew up around. I was always in a house full of paintings of nude women and I didn’t realize that that’s kind of weird. 

BOWIE: Just not as much self-portraiture happening, I imagine.

MISHKAN: No. There was a lot of Rococo and Neoclassical painting going on. It’s very Persian. 

BOWIE: Right. That separation between artist and subject lends itself to a much less vulnerable practice.

MISHKAN: Exactly. 

Nicolette Mishkan
Delta Waves, 2025
Oil on canvas
14 x 14 in35.6 x 35.6 cm

Sex As Power, Black Identity and The True Meaning of Love: A Unique Conversation with Artist, Performer and Writer Lex Brown Who Just Released Her First Erotic Novel

Text by Audra Wist

Lex Brown is an artist, performer and the author of My Wet Hot Drone Summer, recently published by Paul Chan’s Badlands Unlimited as part of the New Lovers erotica series. Lex and I met in the summer of 2011, keeping in touch and crossing paths in LA. She is now pursuing an MFA in Sculpture at Yale University. It’s hard for me to write about Lex as I see her as a close friend who I love, someone who I think is accomplished just as a person, aside from her remarkable work. She seems to have an casual but intimate knowledge of a pulse that goes unnoticed by most. Our interest in sex crosses over where we think in terms of experimentation or the idea of sex as power - where are there glitches and what is happening when we have a sexual encounter? In her new book, she takes on sci-fi erotica full throttle with a cloaked critique. She is electric and the book reflects that spirit with equal parts hilarity and sincerity. We sat down in Pittsburgh, PA after performing together the night before to discuss her new book, views on sex, the fluctuating temperature of our time, and how to appropriately experiment with love.

Below is an excerpt from our conversation.

**

Lex Brown: Audience praise in general is a weird dynamic.

Audra Wist: Actually, Aaron [Kunin] and I were talking about this… there’s some poets that don’t even want white writers to talk about black writers. No names, no mention of their work, no praise, nothing. And I wonder is that constructive? Or how is that productive? Anyways, what is it like to do the performance you’re doing or write the book that you’ve written and have a primarily white audience watch or read it and go “Good job, wow, great work.” I have no idea what that’s like. I remember [in a group dynamics class] sitting in the William Pope.L show at MOCA and we were to discuss the show and a black student blurted out “What is white guilt? Tell me. I don’t know. Can a white person explain that to me?” And of course, all of us whiteys were stunned, panicked. We didn’t know how to approach that question but we all knew it very well. It felt like anything we said was wrong - and here, to congratulate feels like it’s patronizing in some way. There are so many intricacies to being a person of color and writing or making and looking at art that I simply do not have the experience to speak about… or I don’t know what is the right or supportive response to these complicated knots.

LB: I think what is so complicated about right now is that in addition to already living in the white patriarchy, within the last twenty or thirty years, there has emerged another normalized reaction—a standardized black reactionary identity, or criticality, which does not involve thinking critically. And also the same for feminism and other marginalized groups. There’s this component of people reacting in the way they think they’re supposed to and not really stopping to consider and engage with things. Though, as I’m saying this, I know I can only notice things because I’m in my own very specific place of privilege… my own self-awareness of being black in an upper-middle class situation gives me a special kind of privilege of hyper-articulateness. Anyways, the point I’m getting to is that there are so many blogs in which people are going off about x, y and z. A lot of people are angry about a lot of things because they do recognize their oppression, and that is good, but in a way it can be so counter-productive to the project. I can understand where they’re coming from, but as a writer, when you’re talking about systemic oppression, you cannot throw that phrase around without providing the facts and experiences that are evidence of that oppression. You need to back it up because the things you are saying are true and are important but if you don’t back it up the only reaction you’re going to get is that you’re just being emotional and then you can’t be mad when somebody only sees that emotion. You can’t get mad at some white male reader when he says “all you’re doing is reacting emotionally” when the way that you’re writing is with the expectation that people just automatically understand you. You need to write as a black woman as if nobody understands, explain everything, because people can be ignorant.

AW: And that goes for anyone making an argument about anything, right?

LB: Yeah, you really need to because if you’re in a position of marginalization, there’s nothing about systems that are organized that benefit you. You need to be like a razor blade if you’re going to cut through the bullshit. You have to be! It’s really important to understand the intricacies of what you’re talking about and the identity of the person with whom you’re talking to.

AW: Or the context perhaps, like who it’s being sent out to or where it’s being published.

LB: Yes, this is something I learned in the clowning workshop. If you really want to change someone’s mind, they need to feel like you see them and they need to feel like… or, they need to have the experience of seeing you saying “I’m marginalized, you’re not, can you understand this?” There is a certain amount or acquiescing or compromise that has to happen. Making things a little sweeter. Not everybody feels that way. But my perspective on this is that the little song and dance… you know, it helps because in order to-- I don’t know if this is coming out coherently.

AW: I’m totally following. This is making sense.

LB: Okay, so, for example, to be a woman and talking to men and trying to get them to see you, you have to be like “Don’t worry, man, I see you.” You know?

AW: Yeah, of course.

LB: And of course I see you because I live in your world! I understand-- well, no I don’t understand what it feels like to be white... but I also kind of can because I imagine it would be like if I turned off some things in my brain. For a long time, I have had a guilt that I had to get over that I imagine feels similar to white guilt because ultimately white guilt is a class guilt. It’s a privilege guilt. That’s what it has to do with and for me I felt guilty about privilege and a very complicated guilt about being black and I felt like I didn’t have anything valid to talk about because I was not suffering or something. And then, slowly I realized, oh, wait, I have this very unique position in combination with my disposition, which I also like thinking about those words: position in society versus a disposition, or personality, what does a disposition mean? Dispossessed?

AW: Or out of position?

LB: Yes, something to explore. Good title for a piece. But, I also relate that to the book in the sense--

AW: I was just going to say that. That’s perfect for the book: position and disposition.

LB: There’s the position of the book and the disposition of the book. There’s funny stuff in there, too. Erotica is something that people don’t take seriously but arousal is a serious and real thing. It’s a fun book. You know, I hope people even read it. That’s the whole question I have. Are people even going to read this book? And maybe that’s a larger question about books.

AW: Who reads ‘em?

LB: Who reads ‘em? Seriously! I’m reading books right now.

AW: What are you reading?

LB: Right now, I’m reading Taipei by Tao Lin, Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, and Citizen by Claudia Rankine.

AW: That’s an interesting combination of books.

LB: I love when I can get into a book and I feel like I’m into all of them. Taipei because it’s just so... god, yes! That is how it feels to be a young person today. Have you read it?

AW: I haven’t read it yet.

LB: It’s really remarkable. I think someone on the back cover describes it as “relentless.” The intensity and specificity with which he describes an anxiety about vagueness that we experience now in the information age: a vague sentiment about being and existing. Especially because his character is a writer like him, everything that comes with existing as an artist that is existentially questionable and that is not present in the New York Times article where they’re talking about the “Creative Class” and asking “Do these doodles make you feel better?” That is the difference between this self-help doodling and being an artist - it’s confronting that existential vagueness that is the reality of life and being like, fuck!

AW: Disposition.

LB: Yeah, and Franny and Zooey is great because Franny’s character kind of talks about that, too. It’s actually very contemporary. Have you read it?

AW: Yes, I was always struck by that, too.

LB: Yeah. There’s this part with her talking to her boyfriend and then she runs to the bathroom crying and tries to pull herself together… there’s this affective nature with which she presents herself that I really identify with. Like you can’t help but have affectations and play with those when you are a conscious thinking intellectual person who is aware of that intellectualism as a marginalized person. You can’t help but be interested but also grappling with your own affect and what do I do with that? Citizen is great. I only just started, but she talks about Hennessy Youngman and him giving instructions to black artists on how to express feelings of rage, but Rankine is talking about the real rage that is the undercurrent of this rage, Hennessy Youngman’s rage, that is subdued. She has this brilliant line about making oneself visible to death. And I read it and was like, yep, that’s me. This craving for visibility. To be visible at all costs. Listen to me at all costs.


"...On the one hand, I’m like fuck, fuck these white dudes, I can’t keep having sex with them because I feel rejected and in pain and then on the other hand, I want to do it because it’s an experiment to push somebody. But it takes me so long to get over everyone. Through all of these relationships, I’ve learned and learned and learned to constantly try to get to a place of truth with love."


AW: Visibility at all costs, yeah, I feel that.

LB: I hope people read this book! Just look at me.

AW: Yeah, look at me.

LB: Like in your performance, you said “they never let you speak.”

AW: Yeah, they don’t. And when you do speak the whole thing is really dependent on the fact that they listen. That’s the hard part. You try to give them the opportunity to listen as best as you can but… you give it your best shot.

LB: Yeah, last night with our performances back to back and then Moor Mother Goddess - that was great!

AW: It was a great trifecta.

LB: I feel like when some people perform they ask “look at me” instead of saying “look at me.”

AW: Yeah, you don’t need to ask for permission and that’s actually the problem is that you shouldn’t have to ask for permission. I will take that.

LB: Or it’s something else to do while doing something else and saying look at me.

AW: Like I said last night, women are typically very good at being direct. Is everyone in the Badlands New Lovers Series female identified?

LB: Yeah.

AW: The ability to be direct is really specific to women, I think.

LB: That’s something Michaela asked me on the panel about being a woman, or writing as a woman, and she made a point—and I’m glad she made this point and it was pretty bold—she said, “We got submissions from men but they just weren’t as good - they just weren’t.” And the way she said it was very straight up, no apologies, and I appreciated that. I think she was asking why do you think, as a woman, you’re a better writer? And my response was…

AW: Women are better.

LB: [laughs] Yeah, women are better. But as a woman, you experience sexuality beyond the bedroom.

AW: You do!

LB: In a way that most men do not.

AW: You put your finger in the fucking wound. Men don’t even see the wound, they don’t even know. Women are in there, feeling around, touching it.

LB: Or the wound is wounding you, just walking down the street, whatever. There are so many infinitesimal interactions of sexuality that women live and breathe. For me, I constantly feel like I’m living and breathing identity as a woman, as a black woman. And because I’m black, I’m so sensitive to other aspects of class that might be harder to feel if you were white. But people of color, when you’re in this weird position… somehow my ancestors made it here and I’m so aware of here.

AW: Of course, that lineage and the time.

LB: I’m so aware of my ancestors all the time. I really visualize myself almost with a cape trailing behind me—my parents, grandparents. Who are mostly black, but some white and Native American. My mom knows a lot more about it than I do. I need some money to do some research. You know some issues are too big or complex for me to take on right now because I don’t have the money or can’t devote the time.

AW: Something else I thought of while reading the book was sex as transactional.

LB: I think I need to peg somebody. I think I need to have that experience.

AW: Oh, yeah. That’s an absolute. I think men have this fantasy about it. They think women are so turned on or are getting so sexually aroused by it, and that’s a part of it, but I think it’s mostly… I mean, I’ve said this before: sex is not that interesting, power is and pegging is about power. Power is in that wound.

LB: Yeah, I was having sex with this guy and afterwards, I was explaining to him what I was thinking about the whole time and he said, “Wow, you think a lot.” The instinct I feel when he makes that comment is I’m going to push this. You’re obviously fascinated by me thinking a lot or you’re trying to destroy it. That’s hyperbolic but, there’s an attraction in sexual attraction, at least this is the way it works for me… is that there’s something that you want in a person and at the same time there is something you want to erase or destroy, even if the thing you want to erase is your own desire for wanting something that isn't you. Does that make sense?

AW: Yeah.

LB: So, when he says something like you think so much, I’m thinking yeah, I do, but I don’t know if you realize what it sounds like you saying that me… but also I don’t know what I sound like to you telling you this. That aspect of sex is very interesting to me as a transaction between people.

AW: It’s almost as if sex can be an intellectual transaction.

LB: Oh, sure! When we were having sex, I was thinking about so much stuff! I always do when I’m having sex. And I really feel that also has to do with when you’re in the receiving position. Physically, you are equally engaged in making it happen but you could, in the receiving position, you could ostensibly just be completely flat and have all this time to think which I often do.

AW: [laughs]

LB: You don’t have to do anything to make intercourse happen. I think it’s true too that you could be a passive top. Sort of.

AW: But putting them in that position, the importance of pegging, is putting them in the position of receiving so that their mind has that time to do what we usually do.

LB: Yeah, totally. I really fight that impulse and what this guy and I talked about on the train, it was a difficult discussion. I  have this impulse to go towards things that are difficult. I want to change your mind. Bottom line, I really do. When you’re attracted to somebody and you feel like they have something that you don’t, that’s what makes the attraction.

AW: It does.

LB: Projection.

AW: Absolutely.

LB: Projection is attraction. And so I know what it is that these white guys have that I don’t. But, what is it that I have? I feel like they don’t know, but it’s there and it’s an interesting mystery. What is it that I have that they don’t know that they want? And so on the one hand, I’m like fuck, fuck these white dudes, I can’t keep having sex with them because I feel rejected and in pain and then on the other hand, I want to do it because it’s an experiment to push somebody. But it takes me so long to get over everyone. Through all of these relationships, I’ve learned and learned and learned to constantly try to get to a place of truth with love.

AW: I think that’s a really good outlook though. I’ve been thinking about the same thing.

LB: I don’t know if I’ve ever even had sex with somebody who loved me and I loved them.

AW: And even when you do, sometimes it can’t work. I have so much love for [my ex], but I’m not sure if we can ever fuck again, there’s too much love between us.

LB: In a sense that sex diminishes that or is superfluous?

AW: It diminished the unconditional nature of our love. Sex can introduce a possessiveness and necessitates something else, something more. Whereas when we’re just friends, it’s an unconditional love.

LB: I don’t know if they can go together.

AW: Neither do I. I’m very skeptical. But I’ve also had weird sexual situations work in all types of ways, good and bad.

LB: At this point I think love is really grappling with your inner shit and being challenged to throw some stuff away. But also own some stuff—own your shit in a way that’s uncomfortable. Within the act of loving someone, you have to come to terms with how you construct yourself, as well as how you construct the other person. I’ve had to come to understand love as a non-possessiveness.

AW: I see what you mean. There are also some types of love can be play pretend or a security blanket to shield you from your own cracks. I wonder sometimes if I am really looking at love for what it really is.

LB: I imagine love as the essence of the universe, which is beautiful, but not peaceful. Each person is a universe, and you have to come to an understanding. Maybe real love is unexpectedly coming to the same definition of what love is.


You can purchase Lex Brown's book, "My Wet Hot Drone Summer," here. See the trailer below. Text and interview by Audra Wist. Follow Autre on Instagram: @AUTREMAGAZINE


The year is 2056. Hotshot lawyer Mia Garner needs a fresh start after dumping her cheating boyfriend. So she goes on a cross-country drive with Derek, her handsome tech stepbrother, to meet Xavier Céron, a mysterious CEO who wants to acquire the game-changing nanochip Derek invented.