Miranda July has made a splash as a filmmaker, fiction writer, artist, actress and a musician. This Saturday she's participating in the second annual Brainwave Festival at the Rubin Museum. The festival is in the third of its ten weeks where it explores how art, music and meditation affect the human mind. July will be discussing both the spontaneous and the premeditated aspects of performance in creating her film Me and You and Everyone We Know and writing the short story collection No One Belongs Here More Than You with Columbia University psychologist George Bonanno. She talked to us about what it's like wearing so many hats, how nothing in New York seems to exist by the time you actually get there and about why it's all right to avoid anything that people write about you.
Hi, sorry I was running a little late. I had to run to the video store to pick up my next disc of Gossip Girl. I watched one episode and I didn't get into it at all.
Well were you into either The OC or 90210 back in the day? Well 90210, but I was much younger. I was totally open to the guilty pleasure aspect of Gossip Girl, but it didn't satisfy me as that even. I think also I had just finished Mad Men. So maybe just going from Mad Men to that was too much of a shock for my body. There should have been a transition show in between...Mad Girl.
Are there any TV shows that you watch that you think someone who knew you would be surprised to learn that you frequented? Not really, I don't actually have a TV that has any channels. It's really that I love it so much and I don't have any self-control, so I just can't have it. I have to rent, so I did just rent season two of Friday Night Lights which was pretty exciting. Is that a little surprising? But I guess it's sort of high brow. It's funny because I was into it and then some friend was having a football game watching party and I was like, "Oh yeah, Friday Night Lights" and I tried to watch it and I was like,"Uh... this isn't like the end of the show where there's a game." I didn't know all the back stories of all the characters, you know, all the players. It wasn't the same thing at all.
You're heading to New york shortly for this festival. When you come here, do you have a certain routine of places you like to hit while you're here? Yeah, partly why I'm going, I'm working on something with someone there. For the past few times I've gone, we've worked on this dance.
How's it coming along? It's pretty good. It's a work in progress. I won't talk too much about it because it might take something away.
The last time I saw you here was almost two years ago when you did a play at The Kitchen. That was great. Has that piece seen any light since then? Yeah, after the New York shows, I began to radically transform it into a movie, and that's my next movie project. It's really different, but the few people who saw the performance will see all these things that were in the performance, that if you saw the movie you would never guess that it started out as a performance.
Let alone one where audience members were co-stars in the show. Yeah, I wish I could have had that part somehow in the movie. Believe it or not, I really tried to think of how there could be audience participation in a feature film, sort of like Rocky Horror Picture Show type stuff. But in the end, it seemed better to just tell the story.
What stage is the movie in? I've been working on three kind of large projects for a long time, all of which are in different stages of completion, but that movie is about to be shot or ready to be shot. But I spent a really long time casting and I'm almost done. I'm making final decisions now although a lot of things are kind of out of my hands.
Was casting a different experience because of the success of Me and You and everything that's come after it? Not really. It's still just finding the right person for the part.
When you get to New York, are there any spots around town you like to hit when you're here? I eat at Angelica's Kitchen and I often stay at the Chelsea Hotel. That's kind of near the Whole Foods, so I have this sort of healthy routine. I can create a sense of home. I'm always reading. When you don't live in New York, you sort of collect places that you read about that you want to try the next time you go there. I remember last time I read about this Swedish thrift store in Brooklyn somewhere and I was really excited about it because the thrift stores in Sweden are really good. But needless to say, I didn't find it. I don't think it exists. But that's the kind of thing that always happens. I'm always with a friend who's lived in New York for a million years and we're trying to find a place that I just heard of and they're like, "I don't know, I've never heard of anyone talking about that." But one thing that I love, that I'm really looking forward to is near Irving Place and 17th, it's this chocolate—raw chocolate place. If you're noticing a sort of health theme... they have these sort of chocolatey marshmallow treats, but they're all totally good for you. I think the marshmallow is made out of cashews or something but they are so good. You get one and you're like, these are like six dollars for something the size of a Susan B. Anthony coin. I don't even remember how big that is, but then you definitely should have gotten three. It's worth the money. There's a restaurant part of it and there's sort of a to-go cafe.
I feel like even living here I have the same experience you're describing. Like let's go eat at Mama's and then you'll go and it's been closed for two years. It's such an over-saturated information town that if you missed the news when it first came out, a week later no one is talking about it. It's kind of scary also to think what might be gone because of the economy too. Like what if I go and Vintage Matters isn't there or something.
Have you ever considered a move here? Not really. I'm like the only person I know who never wanted to move there or live there. My dad's from New York City, so I went there a lot growing up. It's still very familiar to me and I have a lot of family there. The degree of sort of spaced-outness that I sort of like to be, I sort of feel like in New York you have to negotiate so many things as you get around that you kind of can't be as spaced-out.
Doing so many different kinds of projects, do you ever feel a point you have to hold yourself back? Like does it ever get to a point where you feel like you're doing too much? Or do you feel like you have to not give into whimsy in terms of creativity? Well as far as the different mediums, like every six months or so it'll dawn on me, "Oh, you could say I'm in a lot of different worlds, the art world and the literary world, or you could just say I'm in none of them." I have a sort of light panic in realizing I'm not in any, I don't actually have the sort of sense of identity or community or whatever. But for good reasons. I couldn't handle that either. It's not like I look at one of those worlds and am like, "God, I wish I was really in that, like really taken seriously." I don't feel that either.
Did you feel at all more of that tug-of-war with the film world because of the amount of attention and words thrown towards it? Yeah, I think, but you know it's whatever. It can happen with all of them to be honest. I did a big group art show in Japan last fall and I went to the opening and there were all these interesting, more prominent artists and I was like, "Oh God." It had a whole different feeling to it, that sort of social aspect and you know for that night I was like, "This is really great, these are really cool people. This is what I should have done." But it never lasts. Ultimately it's just my weird thing, sort of going back to my room.
I think they would appreciate knowing that the relationship goes both ways. I saw Lorrie Moore do a reading maybe about a year or two ago, when your stories were about to come out and someone asked a question about you and your writing. And Lorrie made this off-handed remark about how she had read a story of yours in The New Yorker and she was like, "It's not fair." Because you had already proven yourself so many other places and now you get to be a really respected writer, too. And I feel there's so many people who themselves do one specific thing that they're known for and they look at you and think, "I wish I could go out and get to direct feature film or be in an art show in Japan." Well, in terms of Lorrie Moore, she's my favorite so that's nice to hear that she thinks I've succeeded. I don't know what to say. I sort of feel like people probably could, most of the people I know, writers and filmmakers, I know that they actually do other things too. I guess the unusual thing is actually pursuing them in the career sense. It's hard to think of anyone I know who doesn't do multiple things. There's even friends I have who are famous for one thing, but I actually like their work in another medium that no one ever gets to see. I think a lot of people just aren't drawn to putting themselves out there in more than one world. There's something sort of tawdry and attention-seeking about it. I mean, I don't think so, but it can seem that way. I can see the sort of flip side to it. As I start to be more public, I realize probably not as much as it feels like, but people keep track more, like, "When's your next movie or your next book?" or whatever. And I'm actually really like, whoa, because I'm doing all these other things. Back when I promoted the book, people were like, "So are you working on another book?" and I was like, "God, no." And that's pretty unusual to completely not be striking when the iron is hot. I think everyone finds their way to make it their path.
Do you have a good "only in New York" story you can share? When I was promoting the book, as I mentioned, I often stay at the Chelsea Hotel. So when the publisher was putting me up, I think they probably would have leaned towards somewhere a little nicer than that. But when I insisted on the Chelsea, I think someone just said, "We'll get her the best room there, which is probably still not that much." But you know that place is run by sort of insane people so they have a place that I think no one ever rents which is essentially like a house, that is many bedrooms and bathrooms. So that's where I stayed and I was there for like more than a week and I had a couple of friends stay with me in the other bedrooms. It was a very bizarre New York experience. And actually I think my birthday happened or something and we decorated with balloons and streamers so it got even weirder. The extra funny part was when we were checking out it was actually extremely expensive, like more than the fanciest room anywhere. So that ended up being a humbling moment because it wasn't clear yet that my book was going to sell at all and I was like, "Well, I hope it's just enough to pay for this room."
On your web site a while back, you put a note about how you read the mail people send you while sitting on the couch and not to be offended if you don't write back. I thought that was kind of a nice thing to do to people who write in. Do you get a lot of correspondence? Yeah, I do. I've had a web site and a PO Box for a long time, long before the movie. And there was sort of a point where I guess people who are a little more public don't actually have an address like this and I considered, "Is now the time to let go of this PO Box that anyone can write to? Am I just asking for fan mail?" But in truth there's a lot of good from that, and not just fan mail, but also people who might actually need to reach me. So I kept it and I keep everything that comes from it. I keep it in boxes and date the boxes. I just figure that it's not so much about me, it's about these people as far as if it'll be interesting later. It'll be interesting to see all the really weird stuff that comes in. Like someone sent me recently a print out of every single email they've ever sent. It was a huge, incredibly heavy box. I haven't figured out that one.
Did you just read the first page or what? I read through the top ones and got the gist of it. I mean, these aren't about me, they're about the other person. I totally relate to this, what you want is for someone you admire to know you. I want Lorrie Moore to see my life and see my world. When you admire someone, that's what you want. So a lot of different worlds are sent to that PO Box.
I actually once wrote to tell you that I discovered your PO Box was in my local post office. I'd say I remember that, but in truth a few people have written about living in the same zip code. So I'm remembering either yours or some of your former neighbors.
It's nice to feel like I'm a part of a movement. Yeah, one that I'm also in.
Can you tell me what a normal Friday would be like for you? Well, Friday is the day that I sort of, like all my ambitions from the beginning of the week I sort of fail on and I let myself off the hook, creatively. I usually just give in to the business part of my mind. Like actually all the emails that come to the web site through that address get sent to me Thursday night, so Friday morning there's a bunch of random things to attend to. Just that, doing errands. I'm exchanging a dress for a smaller size now that I got for a birthday. So, there I go.
Do you think there are any common misconceptions about you? That would presume that I really know what people think of me.
Do you avoid what people say about you on the internet? I have seen what's online. I try not to look, but there's always that night where it seems like suddenly it's a great idea. I don't know, I mean the main feeling I get when I read stuff is one of this isn't exactly right. And it makes me think the stuff I'm reading about other people isn't right either. It kind of makes you more aware of how much everything you read is about the person who wrote it and not as much about the person you're reading about and that becomes obvious when you're reading about yourself because you know you what you're like. And if they knew me, they would know that's not true. But it's kind of a long, winding road of thoughts that always ends up nowhere, leads to feeling a sort of underfed or something. So I try to just pick up the needle and put it to the record. All you can do is not think about it. Good or bad, I'm not trying to say I'm horribly maligned or anything. It's just that to answer the question I'd have to think of it more than what I've trained myself to—just for my own sake. It's a mixed blessing. Of course I really want and wanted an audience and it's not accidental, putting that much out there, but at the same time I have to be very self-conscious of kind of the enemy of exactly what I'm trying to do. Just to keep trying to feel free sort of becomes a huge part of the job, sort of tricking myself into this senseless freedom by aloneness.
