Artist Statement

Maya Graine acts as my artist persona, who I created after coming to terms with my disability. During undergrad, themes of chronic pain and illness appeared in my work subconsciously, as I mainly painted my own body. At the time, I wasn’t sure how pain shaped my identity, especially since ballet played a key role in my personhood up till that point. “Former dancer “ was too heartbreaking of a label for me to handle, but about four years after my initial health decline, I finished grieving that loss. Performing was always my favorite part of dancing, so moving into performance art was a natural step. I didn’t want to perform as myself, however, but rather embody a character who shared my pain. Thus, Maya Graine was born. 

Pain is central to Maya Graine’s character, so much so that it’s in her name, which is a pun on migraine. She boldly proclaims this fact to her audience, whether it be through her movements, the objects she makes and interacts with, her words, or simply her gaze. She recognizes her limitations and wants the world to recognize them too, not out of pity, but out of empathy. “See my embodied experience,” she asks, “and feel my pain.” 

She uses humor to break the ice and reach viewers through perceived levity, though they will ultimately come to realize the darkness beneath the pink, ruffled surface. “They should go through the same coping process I use,” she thinks, “if they want to understand my life.” 

She takes existing objects and adapts them to her work, using them as materials, and transforming them into art objects with their own sense of being. She undergoes this process to showcase her adaptability, an essential skill when living with chronic pain, as well as to give these objects a chance to be redefined, believing that “Anything can change and take on a new life. Even commonplace things.” 

She spends prolonged periods bedbound or stuck at home, so she’s drawn to the domestic, traditionally feminine items that make up her world. They’ve become so familiar to her that she sees herself in them -- in the indent on the couch, the stains on the blanket, the blackout curtains that protect her from the light. “They know me better than the people outside.”

I choose to make art through her because I don’t want pain to define myself, but I want it to define her. Pain needs to be apparent, so apparent that it’s confrontational, in everything she does because the audience needs to understand its intensity and gravity. In the real world, I have to present myself as functional, competent, and able-bodied so that people will take me seriously as a student, an employee, or even a friend. I can’t show weakness, but Maya Graine can; and not only can she show it, but she can hold it in the air and wave it around while shouting, “Look at it!” She can shout for all the people who mask their pain everyday so that they can function in able-bodied society.