The band, and the world Carter created for them, are the focus of his first video titled The DRAMASTICS are Loud AF (2016), which tells the story of the group’s rise to stardom in a series of vignettes, starting with The DRAMASTICS’ formation at Booker T. Washington High School for the Performing and Visual Arts in Dallas and ending incredibly with a world tour finale in Paris. Carter’s choice of unlikely video subject—an all-girl punk rock band—was inspired by his love for such rock groups as The Slits, Blondie, and Bikini Kill, as Carter describes, “I wanted to be around sweaty, angry punk rock women. It’s as simple as that.” To create the video, Carter wrote a script based on his observations of teenage chatter to ensure that the dialogue mimicked the speaking patterns, colloquialisms and coded language of the characters he was creating.
He also wrote and recorded all of the music and constructed dioramas as scenes for his paper cutout characters to inhabit. For his exhibition in the Nasher’s Corner Gallery, Carter presents this video, together with a selection of dioramas that transport the viewer into the colorful and chaotic world of The DRAMASTICS.
In his own words, the artist explains:
In the spring of 2014, a surprise first-time occurrence unfolded in my studio: I made a series of drawings depicting human figures. The characters looked like pirates in theatrical scenes. They were wearing long dresses and capes and they had very long, wavy hair and carried weapons. I put myself in the drawings; I wore a blue mini dress with red lining, light blue thigh-high tights, and red peep-toes. I had a handlebar mustache and carried a torch.
I wanted to activate these figures by giving them a story, so I decided to write and direct a video about a punk rock band who call themselves The DRAMASTICS. The story begins on the roof of the Booker T. Washington High School in Dallas, Texas, where lead vocalist Molly Blowout and her electric guitar-playing friend Crimson Ivy make big plans to start a band, write songs, make posters and costumes, and go on a world tour along with Melancholly (their terminally anxious bass player), and Calamity (a 7-foot-tall, foul-mouthed street tough drummer from Detroit Rock City).
I made sure to listen to voices closer to the ages of the women in the band. I tried to pick up their coded language and made careful notes when I heard someone say something exciting. I spent days walking around the city, listening to music, and occasionally stopping to write down all of the stories and humorous vignettes I could remember about my own experiences trying to make music in a high school band. With the help of a close friend who is an actor and a playwright, my notes on language and anecdotes began to take the form of a script.
I developed the four band members by constructing 10-inch- tall, handmade figures out of paper, glue, aluminum wire, and paint. I gave each band member a distinct look and personality. Next, I made dioramas using found plywood, plastic, and painted paper background scenes for the character to inhabit. The dioramas look like places a touring band might visit: a steamy, malodorous rehearsal space, and not an intimidating recording studio, and various exotic locations to perform live, including the Saigon City Roller Discotek, a High Desert generator party, and a full-scale model of Paris, France for the film’s final scene.
The activity of world-building felt like inventing and playing with punk dolls in their punk dollhouse. The entire process, of improvising and building and recording and filming, was like making a DIY basement recording. All of it looked and sounded immediate, fast, loose, and loud. Meticulous craft took a backseat to enthusiasm.
By the winter of 2016, the accumulation of sculptures, drawings, sets, and lights made it physically hard to move around my studio. I was writing and recording the music in one corner and recording the characters’ voices in another. A small group of friends became the film crew. They operated the figures in the dioramas while I moved the camera around. In an unspoken exchange, my studio became their dance hall, fueled by a steady supply of fresh guacamole, quesadillas, handles of Tito’s, Parliaments, weed, and 50,000 watts of sound system bangers and anthems. It was like a gang of rabid peacocks invaded my studio and started a weekly party, leaving their colorful feathers behind and cigarette burns everywhere. The feathers were eventually repurposed for part of the final scene in Paris.
Adapted from Casey Kaplan Gallery by Leigh Arnold, Ph.D., Nasher Sculpture Center Assistant Curator