Revenge In Creativity Issue No.2
Front Cover and Facing Page Image: Tim Georgeson
Back Cover: Nikk Rich
Editors: Briony McCarthy + Mitch Eisner
Creative Direction and Design: Sean Bumgarner
by Leah McKendrick
Like most of us, I live my life according to the Good Word of Beyoncé Knowles-Carter. One of Her teachings reverberates in my mind often: “Always stay gracious, best revenge is your paper.”
When she says “paper” I assume she means the paper on which we print our society’s medium of exchange — dolla dolla bills y’all. But who’s to say? I’ve not yet had the opportunity to ask my Queen and Savior.
Perhaps it’s open to interpretation? All religious text - and great art is.
Like many of us working in show biz and beyond — I’ve had some ungodly experiences. I think we can all agree: Hollywood isn’t exactly known for its virtue. We’ve all experienced the vultures that prey on the dreamers, the opportunities that vanish into thin air, the Game of Thrones-level betrayals. You could paper this whole town with unproduced screenplays. Hell, you could paper this whole town with MY unproduced screenplays.
Chasing the dream can be soul crushing, debilitating, demoralizing.
Revenge? That feels like a luxury reserved for someone with fortitude, time and money. Someone like Taylor Swift. You can find the rest of us singing — “Always stay gracious, best revenge is paying your rent.”
Sure, there have been gatekeepers that told me to take my clothes off. Collaborators that sucked my ideas and life force like sparkly Twilight vampires. A director that told me his lawyer could sue me within an inch of my life because “she works for FREE.” (His lawyer was his Mom.)
This town once felt like a dog-eat-dog dystopian wasteland with great sushi. My rage and hurt needed somewhere to go…
So I put it on the page.
I stopped thinking I needed a teammate to legitimize my vision. I stopped hiring pompous white dudes to direct my scripts. I started spending a lot of my time alone in
coffee shops — building.
I wrote a rape-revenge film (M.F.A), where I hunted the predators. Through my heroine, I exorcised my own demons. That film took me from SXSW to theaters — and into a whole new era. My very own renaissance, if you will.
Yes. I’d once had a list of names. And some were in red, underlined.
But that list grew dusty. The edges curled with age. The ink faded.
I realized that I had something that they didn’t. Something they WANTED. Something they’ll never have:
The ability to self-generate; to create ART out of thin air.
I’m a fucking writer.
In Hollywood that may not sound like much, but it’s everything. You can kill my script. I’ll just write another one. You can break my heart. I’ll just write about YOU. All I need is a piece of paper and a pen. (I’d prefer my Mac but whatever.)
For me, the best revenge is not my paper — but what I WRITE on it.
Because creativity isn’t something you do for revenge. It’s something you do for healing. Solidarity. Survival. It’s how you turn lemons into one of the greatest albums of all time.
Revenge is merely a byproduct of creativity, a retribution found through doing the work.
So remember: Always stay gracious. The best revenge is what you do with your paper.
But chances are, by the time you’re twirling on them haters — you’ll be too busy to notice.
OP-ED BY
By Kelsey Darragh
Kelsey Darragh is a comedian, filmmaker, & author of DON’T F*CKING PANIC. Formerly of BuzzFeed internet fame, Kelsey moved on to E!’s flagship LGBT show, Dating No Filter and hosts her own chart-topping podcast, Confidently Insecure. With over 250MM YouTube views, she is known as the big sister of mental health on the internet. In this honest-as sh*t exposé, Kelsey turns a toxic relationship into a new love affair with creativity. A member of the SuperBloomHouse Creative Collective, Kesley is busy as hell creatively and she is not holding back.
sitting on the toilet, pants around my ankles, and my phone buzzes.
A text from an unknown number:
“so that BuzzFeed place is pretty popular. you should put me in a video” it reads.
“Okay, cut for a sec” I tell my bestie and director, Steven, as I take a beat from filming the next scene in “10 Things Only Best Friends can do” - a surefire 10 million views minimum. I reach for my laptop sitting just out of frame, ignoring the Slack messages from my producer telling me we’ve finally sold our pilot to NBC, and click straight into my iMessage app to make sure I’m seeing the text correctly.
The girl acting opposite me as my on-screen bestie, hops off the bathroom counter where she was painting her toenails and peers over my shoulder. “Who’s that from?” she asks.
I check the area code. I know this number. It’s him. But before I can tell my crew, he sends another text:
“It’s Joe C. by the way.”
Oh, I fuckin’ see you, alright.
“It’s the ex I got a restraining order against 8 years ago.” I say plainly, still staring at the laptop burning hot on my bare thighs. “The one who told me he was going to blacklist
my name in this town. That I’d never work in comedy.”
A beat of silence from my small crew. They can’t tell if I’m joking or totally fucking serious.
I close my laptop, toss it to the PA and tell Steven that we should go back up. We only have 30 more minutes to film this before we have to move to the kitchen where I’d be shooting a top-down hands only video of “Ice Cream You Won’t Believe Is Made Out Of Bananas”.
8 years ago, I was a fresh-faced, naive comedian who’d just moved to Hollywood and was told the best way to get into comedy was to hang around The Comedy Store. I regrettably didn’t know any better - the toxic and nasty boys club behind bookings and deals at “The Store”. Enter: the older, more experienced stand-up comedian. A man I’ve named Joe C for this essay because his real name doesn’t deserve the spotlight. Joe C was a guy who seemed to know the ins and outs of the industry, he was opening for Dane Cook (read: desperately riding his coattails), and for the 8 months that we dated, he was my keeper. Since he was knee-deep in the comedy scene, he told me it was his territory. He’d only let me show up to mics that he knew I’d never get a chance to go up on, he told me I needed to stay away from The Improv because I’d be “distracting” him before his set, and when I told him I was
going to try this new thing called YouTube he’d told me I was wasting my time. How could I fall for such a charmer, you ask? The therapised adult version of me knows it’s because, at that age, the idea of a successful career was intertwined with the approval of those already making waves in the industry. A guy who knew every club owner, all the bookers and bouncers, and was - I’ll admit it - pretty funny. He made me feel like I was the luckiest girl in the world for snagging his attention and yet no one knew how abusive, manipulative and hell-bent on controlling my budding comedy career he was.
Feeling frustrated I wasn’t getting stage time, I took to YouTube and my first video went viral - 1 million views back in 2010 was unheard of. When Joe C saw my success, he was nicer to me. I let him be in one of my next sketch videos because I figured it was the best way to keep us together: me making comedy, him feeling a sense of control.
At the tipping point in our relationship, my view count got higher and better, his jokes becoming old and stale - he punched a hole in my wall. He threw a plate against the wall and I called the cops and had him arrested. He threatened me, he said I’d never work in this town again, he told me he’d make sure I failed. I wish that was the end but I got back with him one last time before I realized that it was never love - it was abuse. It took that last time for me to see that he wasn’t the successful comedian I thought he was - and that he was as empty as his threats and it was time I took back control of my narrative. And though I felt the lowest I’d felt only 8 months into living in hollywood, the funny thing about hitting rock bottom is that the only way left is up. And so up I went.
I threw myself into my work with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. My revenge wasn’t about getting even; it was about getting better. I was officially in a relationship with
creativity and it was the healthiest relationship I’d had. I got hired at BuzzFeed because of my video making and comedy skills and grew an audience from there. I heard Joe C. had to move back to New York and was still riding the coattails of Dane Cook even 8 years later. I had outgrown him, outshone him, and outlasted him. My career became my canvas, and I painted it with every color of my experience. The highs, the lows, the heartbreaks, and the triumphs – all of it became fodder for my comedy. It’s about
“I was a fresh-faced, naive comedian who’d just moved to Hollywood and was told the best way to get into comedy was to hang around The Comedy Store. I regrettably didn’t know any better.”
turning pain into punchlines and setbacks into setups for greater comebacks. And the best “fuck you” I could give him was continuing to succeed and loving my job with every fiber of my being.
After thinking on Joe C’s text for the rest of my shoot day - as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I did revel in the feeling that he must’ve been so low in his life to think that reaching out and asking me for help in booking a job was a good idea.
So, what’s the best kind of revenge in my case? Never texting him back.
How an iconic video store is bringing people together through film & and yes, DVD’s.
BY CHRISTINA CONNERTON PHOTOGRAPH BY LEE JAMESON
When we think about revenge, we’re probably not thinking of going to the video rental store.
But in the case of Vidiots–LA’s non-profit video store since 1985–revenge is best served on DVD. After all, in a time when Gen Z is collecting cassette tapes and Gen A is restoring portable CD players (shiver), the not-so-distant-past’s analog musings–like those found at Vidiots’ newly reopened Eagle Rock location–are more attractive than ever.
It’s not hard to think of why. I mean, have you seen the internet? You don’t need to be a conspiracy theorist to wonder if what you’re looking at is real, from face-tuning to news briefings to the Princess of Wales. How do we combat the existential dread of the impending AI takeover? By doing the exact opposite of what AI demands–watching
something with each other, rather than doom scrolling apart.
When Vidiots’ long standing Santa Monica location shut down in 2017, it was already a well-loved beacon of unique finds and cult classics. Founded and run by two women, Patty Polinger and Cathy Tauber, and boasting a diverse collection of films spanning genre and time period, it also became an artistic oasis for people looking for a place to belong, be heard, and be truly seen.
Saila Reyes, former self-described “Vidiots kid” and now current Vidiots Marking Director and Programmer, says that Vidiots was the place that inspired her love of film through their inclusionary catalog. Growing
up a first-gen American and hardworking classical violinist, her access to pop culture and time-wasting television was limited. Something her parents were more than happy to allow? The Filipino and Cuban film titles included in Vidiots’ diverse collection.
“Vidiots was like my one haven where I was like–my God–I used to watch movies,” she told us.
Reyes’ experience was not achieved by accident. As Maggie Mackay, Vidiots Executive Director, always says, “you only come to the parties you’re invited to.” And as one of the main people (if not the person) responsible for the success of the Vidiots reopening, Maggie is committed to inviting everyone.
“We want to break down barriers to entry,” she tells us. “For us, it’s really about making sure film stays accessible to the public.” Thanks to their non-profit status and fundraising, late fees are all but eliminated at Vidiots–something that kept video rental stores profitable in the past–and ticket prices for showings are almost half that
of “traditional” theaters. But it’s not just dismantling the unaffordability of the current movie-going landscape, or even the rental landscape of years past, that makes the store and theater feel like a central place for all. It’s the intentionality of finding success within the community, rather than because of it.
Reyes says, “Eagle Rock specifically is a very Filipino and Latinx community. I have family here. The biggest thing they’re gonna be checking for is, ‘are you restoring something that’s been here for a hundred years? Are you gentrifying and not thinking about us at all?’”
It’s this consideration that has led to events that speak directly to audience interests. From packed karaoke nights, to Finding Nemo mosh pits, to niche events that don’t quite sell out. “We did Slam with Saul Williams last Friday and it wasn’t a sold out crowd,” Reyes shares, reminiscing on the “beautiful” moment. “But the people in that crowd, every single one of them, cried.” That, to them, is a success. Not just the
amount of rentals and ticket sales they can boast (and they should, it’s a lot).
While I’m not huge on crying in public–though believe me I’ve done it–I can’t help but feel that tug on my heartstrings to know young people today are being inspired by a movie about poetry. Especially when every single power that be, including those selling us the technology that pulls us apart, tells us that Gen Z and Gen A aren’t equipped for socialization. To that, Reyes, who runs Vidiots’ social media, says, “human beings have always been human beings since the
beginning of time. People want to be seen and heard. That is a cross-generational call to action.”
Owner Patty remarks that some of the best moments are found with kids discovering movies for the first time. “I got really excited when I saw this little kid with the box in his hand walking around the video store, so excited to be actually holding the physical object. I mean, you could just tell he was so jazzed.”
The proof is in the rentals, as they say. (They
“People want to be seen and heard. That is a cross-generational call to action.”
haven’t, but they will.) There is a need for, and a generous response to, physical media that takes place in the physical realm. When asked why this is the case and why Vidiots itself is such a successful example of it, MacKay can point to Vidiots’ unique offerings–their dedication to a curated library, knowledgeable employees who can recommend a film based on your increasingly niche interests, or even the wine bar that draws happy hour-desperate parents. I’d point to the numbers, personally; almost 11,000 sq ft filled with 60,000 titles and boasting roughly 52 showings a month. But Maggie also has one simple take; “when you get the teenagers, you’ve won.”
So who is Vidiots beating? Who is there to seek revenge on? It could be the men who said they couldn’t do it. Every woman in business–er, woman everywhere–can tell you of a time when a man told them no. In the case of Patty and Cathy, it was the man at the bank when they sought their first loan who told them to “ask their fathers for the money.” Sure, Vidiots success could be a revenge on that dude. I wouldn’t be mad.
It could be the status quo of the film industry itself. From Me Too to Quiet on Set to the absolute nightmare of being the one diverse hire in a writer’s room (Reyes explained she’d definitely been there), succeeding in film without going down the film bro lane is a revenge on anyone who ever said, “if you like the Coppolas so much, name 5 of their films–none of the hits.”
But I think it’s this secret third thing that isn’t so secret at all.
In a world that increasingly dismisses young people, disappears our third spaces, and sells us on individualism to the point of narcissism, Vidiots is creating a space where it’s okay to just be together, watch a thing, and like it. No pretense, no tricks, no
shareholders before consumers. Just one big invite. If there’s one big takeaway we can learn, as marketers, from the Vidiots revenge story, it’s that people are, in fact, people and we are our best when we are in it together, not peering at it from a distance.
“I enjoy watching two people talk about movies in a video store as much as I enjoy watching a movie myself,” MacKay swoons.
Revenge has never looked so sweet.
Christina Connerton is the Creative Director & Staff Writer at SuperBloom House. In addition to owning several blu-ray discs, Christina’s revenge art includes the A&E Emmy-winning foster care doc-series, The Day I Picked My Parents, and her own short film, The Recruit, based on the time she accidentally worked for a cult.
Our mental storage capacity as humans has been officially downgraded from 7 to 4 as the magic number for memory recall.
In honor of humanity’s bite sized brain capacity, SuperBloom presents:
A creator feature you may actually remember. This month, we are fast and curious about
Sheena Melwani is a renowned Canadian-American YouTuber, pianist, songwriter, social media influencer, and entrepreneur. She spreads joy to her 2M YouTube subscribers through her music and all round good vibes. Here she gives us her hot take on revenge as a source of inner motivation and also Kesha.
Question 1: You’ve gained a massive audience as a creator, but what a lot people don’t know is that you’re also a very talented songwriter and artist. Do you feel like now is the time to regain your ground in this area? If so, why or why not? Absolutely! Music has always been a fundamental part of who I am. While my online journey initially took off with the ‘Interrupted’ series, where my husband and I would playfully intertwine singing with comedic interruptions, we expanded our content as our accounts grew. However, my passion for music has remained constant offscreen. Now, with the support of a substantial audience behind me (thank you all!), I feel it’s the perfect time to reintroduce my singing and songwriting to my social media. I’m actually very eager to share this aspect of myself that has always been close to my heart!
Question 2: What does the concept of ‘creative revenge’ mean to you? Has there been a moment recently where you’ve felt vindicated on an idea, concept or a version of your creativity that has previously been overlooked or passed on? The concept of ‘creative revenge’ resonates deeply, stemming from a pivotal moment
in my past. I recall an audition where I was dismissed because I “lacked dedication and seriousness” towards a career in music. While I didn’t fully accept that judgment at the time, it lingered in my mind, serving as a motivator to keep pursuing my craft. In recent years, I’ve channeled this experience into a relentless drive to prove my capabilities (more to myself than to anyone else). Rather than calling it “revenge,” I call it my inner motivation! For us, it’s about embracing challenges and turning them into opportunities for growth.
Question 3: What is your favorite piece of media (film, tv, book etc..) that you feel harness the theme revenge the best, and why?
Easy! ‘Praying’ by Kesha! I love how Kesha takes her personal struggles and sad experiences, and turned them into an anthem of empowerment and resilience.
Listening to the song takes you on a rollercoaster ride of emotions, and serves as a perfect example of how a song can help an artist process, forgive, and, as in the case of this song, shows that revenge doesn’t always have to manifest as retaliation, but can also be found in the act of rising above an injustice and finding peace.
Question 4: What excites you the most about being part of the creative collective, and how do you see this shaping the future of creativity and collaboration? What sets the Creative Collective apart is its celebration of differences. I’m thrilled about the prospect of connecting with likeminded creators who share this passion for pushing boundaries and fostering creativity. Together, I believe we can shape the future of creativity and collaboration by daring to explore new realms and perspectives.
Tim Georgeson creates immersive cinematic spaces where environments and bodies are transformed through the gaze of unexpected visual-musical ecologies.
SERIES TITLE : ORACLES
Feature on circus around the world
Left top: Advertising campaign in Amsterdam for the Hansbrinker Hotel Agency, Kessels Karmer
Left bottom: Commissioned by National Geographic Magazine
Still from the multichannel film, sound and photographic installation titled “URRITJARA” Commissioned by Nowness
Photograph from the book titled “144 hours in Tokyo” published by Anteism books, Deus Ex Machina and Brace
Portrait series commissioned by the New York Times Magazine about Zombie Boy Aka Rick Genest and featuring in the new book to be released called PUNK.
Director, writer, producer, and Superbloom contributor
Michael J. Murphy on interstellar storytelling.
It’s the day of his first launch into the endless void of space. A routine mission, yet still unpredictable, one he may not come back from. As he says goodbye to the woman he loves, she shares a playlist of his favorite songs, one they can listen to together no matter how far apart they are.
The agency’s ask was short and sweet: collaborative playlists. What does that look like to you? It took a few moments of silent driving before I knew what I wanted to do. It was an idea I had for a movie that I knew I wouldn’t have the chance to make for quite some time. But why not now? Why not go for the bigger idea? I luckily had the agency on my side. Someone who genuinely believed in me and my ability to tell a story of this scale in 45 seconds or less.
A routine mission, yet still unpredictable. A budget that most line producers would laugh at. A space shuttle? Suspended into space? Shooting it all in one day across three different locations? I may not come back from this.
Since I was little, I always believed in love stories. Not just love between two people, but romance in a bigger sense. A character falling back in love with life or getting the chance to do what they love… romance comes in so many different colors and I felt that it always brought a vibrancy to the stories I had in my head.
I feel like with where I am at in my career today, I don’t always get the chance to tell the stories I want to tell. Most of the time it has to be more in line with what the brand or client wants. But every once in a while, the puzzle pieces align, and an idea you’ve been waiting on gets a chance at becoming real.
I did in fact come back from this. And it ended up being one of the best risks I’ve ever taken.
Nikk Rich is a photographer and artist whose work finds itself deeply rooted in their fine art background, and is centered greatly around creating space for people of color in beauty and lifestyle.
