Meet Camille Kolo | Artist & Writer

We had the good fortune of connecting with Camille Kolo and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Camille, how do you think about risk?
Risk is a very good friend of mine, actually.

Growing up in the US, I’ve watched as every sure-fire path to wealth, health and happiness crumbles to a fine dust and mixes into a boggy pit of “you’d better work harder” and “maybe one day”. For quite some time, I was under the impression that risk was something easily avoided or cannily bought into, and it has taken me years as an artist to realize the burden of risk has spread beyond the myth of my youth. We all —worker, creative, striver, slacker, whatever— have been asked to shoulder an immense amount of uncertainty and danger. Our living spaces are at risk, our grocery budgets, our retirements, our stability, our mobility, our prospects, all of it! Risk has moved out of the shadows, to be dealt with at leisure, and become a constant companion, underlying nearly all that we hope to achieve in this modern life.

So, in that vein, I find myself charmed by the risks that come with my art and writing. To gamble with my practice, to address subjects that scare me, or to ask for institutional access and recognition is a dream come true! Unlike uncertainty in my day to day, risking it all for my art has the potential to pull me deeper into my creative well, to bear emotional fruit, to tug on heartstrings, and may grant me access to a hundred more readers or a thousand more viewers.

I’m self-taught, though both of my parents are tremendous artists in their own right, and this has, at times, set me at odds with the art establishment as a whole. Institutional funding and acclaim has been a cloudy unknown, distinctly out of reach for most of my career. While this might seem frustrating, I find it liberating. There’s a magic to growing one’s skills and honing one’s attention without the world looking on, beholden to no one. Is it risky in the extreme for me to make art without much support? Yes, but risk is often balanced with reward. After years of scribbling down comics, selling my own zines, and generally forging ahead in minute ways, I can look back and point to the many prizes I’ve uncovered. I’m confident in my work now, in a way I might not have been with oversight. I’m driven, able to continue projects throughout major upheaval and against all odds. My versatility, too, has grown because of the risks I’ve taken as an artist. I’ve expanded my practice over the years: from comics to fiction writing, digital and traditional painting, and enticing, otherworldly merchandise.

Reminding myself of these rewards, almost impossible to see in the moment but easily quantifiable with a little looking back, has become paramount to my practice. I’ve just entered what might be my greatest period of risk ever. About a year ago, I left a draining day job to focus solely on building my writing practice. I had a finished manuscript and a good deal of desire, just the sort that makes a risk worth taking. I’ve done this before, dropping out of traditional employment to focus on my own creativity, and it has never quite worked out how I hoped, leaving me to identify benefits that didn’t fit with my high hopes after the fact. Thanks to a budget and a ton of support from my partner, I’m still in the middle of this transition. No matter how scary it was at the offset, I’m growing stronger in my choice every day. Now, I’m deep in the editing process for my fantasy adventure novel and have a couple new short stories under my belt. I can’t quite cash in my rewards yet, but I know they’re coming! They may not end up looking the same as my big dreams. I might not wind up with a cushy publishing contract and a bestselling book, but I know the risk I’m taking right now will yield amazing, unpredictable results that will shape my life for years to come.

I’m lucky I can take big chances with my art and my life. I’m hoping they pay off, but even if they don’t, I’ll walk away with powerful lessons that can help me in the future. Small risks, like asking for help from collaborators, learning new processes and trusting myself to figure them out, and submitting my work to opportunities big and small, have prepared me for larger, more life changing ones. I wouldn’t be half the artist and writer I am today without a little risk.

Can you open up a bit about your work and career? We’re big fans and we’d love for our community to learn more about your work.
I’m an artist and writer working in Los Angeles. Both these aspects are equally important to me and I don’t find them to be wholly separate endeavors. I am totally enthralled by the stories I find in my paintings and spend a ton of time making drawings of the worlds in my writing. I’m intrigued by the exploratory nature of both and hope to invite my audience on an adventure whether they’re viewing or reading my work.

My youth was spent shooting short films and my young adulthood making and printing comics. I found myself bereft of pithy jokes and slice of life revelations at the beginning of the pandemic, and was forced to pivot to imperfect, bright watercolors and plotting novels, leaving the uncertain present for fantasy-scapes where anything might come to pass. With this shift, I rekindled a love of writing that’s been with me forever, fulfilling some unfinished business for my inner child and reminding an older, wiser me that experimentation and fun are still important to my art practice. I know it’s almost impossible to follow a straightforward path as a creative, but mine has had some extra twists and turns. I think this has benefited me immensely, giving me a lot of perspective and flexibility when it comes to my future as an artist. I’m often shocked and delighted by what flows out from my pen and onto the page.

I think we’re entrenched in an age of heavy saturation in an artistic sense. There’s just a ton of content, from so many creators, with many competing ideas and influences bandied around. In some ways, I love this. I’m a maximalist. As a consumer of culture, I want to soak up cool work and the unknown constantly. As an artist, I’m aware of how overwhelming and scary this can be. The constant measuring stick of an imagined other! Amazing work crowding out your best effort! I’m grateful for the changeable nature of my own career as an artist. I’ve been so busy communicating with myself and arguing about how best to satisfy my own creative desires that I’ve been able to tune out the zeitgeist. My interior world has grown lush and insatiable, and the work I’m finding there is easy to trust and pour my time into, even if I don’t immediately catch the interest of the internet.

Any places to eat or things to do that you can share with our readers? If they have a friend visiting town, what are some spots they could take them to?
I’ve been admittedly pretty nose to the grindstone lately, so I guess I should take myself out to explore the greater LA area. I’m really obsessed with PLACE LB, which is a donation-based print studio, zine library, and DIY media lab in Long Beach. After checking out some zines, I’d probably head over to SALA Coffee & Wine Bar for a latte.

I might head back up to Los Angeles and do something inexpensive like go for a walk on the LA River path in Frogtown or explore the Central Library in Downtown LA. I have been meaning to check out the Octavia Lab at LAPL, and this seems like as good a time as any. I’m imagining I’m famished from all this exploring, so I’d definitely head a few blocks down to Pine & Crane DTLA to grab a thousand layer pancake or some fan tuan.

With that fuel, I think I’d continue the walk down into Little Tokyo. The Japanese American National Museum is pretty cool and you can get some money off your admission if you show your metro tap card. It’s also neighbors with the Geffen Contemporary at MOCA, which has free general admission and always guarantees an interesting visit. If it was a perfect world, I’d be able to walk up to Suehiro Cafe and finally try it, but sadly the classic spot was just evicted from its longtime home, and I’ve missed my chance. Luckily, just a little further out is the Suehiro Mini in Chinatown, so I will be able to eat my fill after a satisfying day in LA.

Who else deserves some credit and recognition?
Let’s just say I’m endlessly grateful for the entire LA Zine community! Between visiting tables, trading influences, and making goofy work together, they have been instrumental in inspiring me to invest in my own ideas. Even the smallest thought can become an unstoppable little handmade magazine, ready for the right eyes. I’m forever indebted to the kindness I experienced as a newcomer years ago and as a collector & collaborator now. I may be biased, but I have yet to come across a more curious, stimulating, or expansive art form. Off the top of my head, I would not be making anything if it were not for Cass Monster, Cristina Ramirez, Chynna Jenkins, Doctor Gurlfriend, MV Garcia, and many, many more. I can also promise that the LA Zine community will continue to dazzle on so many levels for years to come, so I can’t recommend enough making your own zines and joining in on the fun.

Website: www.camillekolo.com

Instagram: @camillekolo

Other: www.patreon.com/camillekolo

Image Credits
Jossef Virgen (personal photo), Camille Kolo (photos of art)