We were lucky to catch up with Pam Uzzell recently and have shared our conversation below.
Pam, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear about a project that you’ve worked on that’s meant a lot to you.
In 2009, I joined a walking tour in my own neighborhood in South Berkeley. Unlike some walking tours which show picturesque places and share interesting historic tidbits, this was a walking tour with our city council member to discuss the consequences of the newly installed parking meters lining the streets of the business district in a neighborhood that was historically Black and working class. This neighborhood was still reeling from the effects of the 2008 housing market collapse and recession. To see the city add parking meters in front of businesses that were struggling to keep the doors open really felt like getting kicked while you’re down. I began chatting with a woman next to me who introduced herself as Mildred Howard. I couldn’t believe that I was meeting the person behind some of the most iconic public artworks in the Bay Area. Mildred shared with me the story of how her mother, Mable Howard, brought a lawsuit against the local rapid transit system in 1968 when the transit system was being built in Berkeley to stop the plan that would have destroyed that particular section of town. I thought, why have I never heard this story? Do other newcomers to this neighborhood know this story? That was the beginning of a 9-year film project called Welcome to the Neighborhood, documenting the history of a neighborhood in a city that has struggled with inequity and disparity, both historically and currently, around race and class. The goal was to preserve the history of an influential activist and organizer, Mable Howard, follow the story of her daughter, an artist whose work explores the theme of belonging and home, and show the cultural and political vibrance of South Berkeley. Ultimately both Mildred and I were priced out of Berkeley, a reality faced by many residents who once thought they belonged to that special city. Working through this story shaped who I am today as a creative by clarifying to me the themes of belonging that have existed in my work all along.
Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.
I grew up in a small town in South Arkansas. Looking back, I now see and appreciate the creativity that was all around me in that town. Opportunities to sing, to perform in the orchestra for the summer musical, to create skits, and write for school. I did all of these things and I never, ever imagined myself working creatively. When I was an undergrad at Brown University, I visited a film theory class about horror movies and their cultural and psychological significance and I thought, this is it. This is what I want to study. I was already a French literature major, and I expanded my classes to leave school with a BA in French Literature and the equivalent in Modern Culture and Media. I generally find creative passions through being open to possibilities. After taking some creative writing classes at Brown, I added a filmmaking class. The possibilities of telling stories through this medium completely hooked me. After graduation I worked among the amazing motion picture sound editors and designers in the San Francisco Bay Area for about six years. I left with a real respect for the power of audio in storytelling. I decided to pursue an MFA in Cinema after having my first child. This was a turning point in terms of discovering a love for documentary filmmaking. I usually find a story that won’t let go of me and worry about the themes later. Similar ones always arise–what it means to be an outsider, the power of community, loss, resilience, and belonging.
I’d always been curious about podcasting, both for the ways in which it was like film, particularly documentary, and also the ways it was different. The power of audio to stimulate emotional engagement, whether it was music, sound design, or a human voice continues to intrigue me. When the pandemic hit and a film I had been working on fell apart, I decided that I would make a few podcast episodes just to try it out. I’m now 75 episodes into my podcast Art Heals All Wounds. Each week I interview an artist and talk about their work. Like many people, I think art can change the world. As creative thinkers, artists present us with some of the most compelling visions of ways that our world could work better for everyone–art around environmental, social, and racial justice, gender equity, ways to build community and bridge divisions, as well as solace for grieving. Art and culture are at the core of our ability to flourish and it’s an absolute thrill to hear the inspiration behind someone’s work and the healing that can come for both the creator and those who engage with their creative works. Every interview takes me through my lifelong checklist of questions: who am I, why am I here, what should I be doing in this world? There is nothing like hearing the story of another person to discover more about yourself and your commonality with others. Hearing the story of artists is particularly potent due to their desire to create work that communicates their own answers to these questions.
In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?
Artists need exactly what everyone else needs. Housing, income, community, and time. And everyone else needs what artists have, which is a creative practice. One of the most influential things I’ve read recently is Your Brain on Art: How the Arts Transform Us, by Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross. This book is a look at the ways that the arts are an integral part of our humanity and can heal us on a cellular level. One particularly moving part of the book talks about what happened once the ancestors of modern man brought fire back to the places they lived. Suddenly there was a reason to sit encircled around this source of warmth, creating an opportunity to communicate beyond the basics of everyday survival. Storytelling and singing became an integral part of life. As a consequence the human brain grew and evolved into its current form.
I think one thing that differs between the United States and many other places around the world is that the role of the artist and arts is seen as more of an extra, like an optional aspect of life, when, in fact, it is essential. Maybe we’re not gifted musicians, but we can sing at the top of our lungs in the shower and attend live music performances, bouncing our bodies to the beat and clapping our hands in rhythm. Maybe you read to children and create lively, funny voices for the different characters. You decide to write your memoir. Maybe it gets published, maybe you just share it with a few special people. Or you spend some quiet time and journal. These are creative acts that will help you to flourish. The true power of art for us, especially now, is creating work as a community. Then take that up a notch and create work across different communities. We should be throwing money and resources at the arts, yes, to support those who work creatively, but also to fund the ways that we all can participate in creative endeavors together. This is what I’ve heard time and again from the artists on the show and this is what I’ve experienced in my own life of working in a creative field and engaging with the work of others.
What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?
One of the most important lessons I’ve had to unlearn is that it’s wrong to show vulnerability. I’ve had to unlearn this in my creative work and also in my life. I was adopted and it’s only been since my middle age that I’ve begun learning how that played a role in feelings of unworthiness and not belonging. It felt essential to my survival to hide all of those feelings, whether through callousness, irony, or aloofness. In reality, I have a lot of very squishy, messy feelings. And I’m so glad that I do. Taking down the walls around them has enabled me to connect with the squishy, messy feelings of others. When I hear stories of how these feelings inspire art, it inspires me, not just for myself, but for anyone who may be struggling. I’ve made many mistakes and had lots of failures. So many creative ideas I’ve had have been rejected. Now it takes me just about an hour to move past it, because I know that I’ve survived much worse in my life. When I first started showing creative work to get feedback, it was crushing to hear anything that I perceived as negative, because it felt so personal. I lost so many opportunities to make something better! Now I’ve learned to hear feedback and to trust myself to discern what is constructive and what will help me grow. Mostly I’m glad that I unlearned the building of defensive walls because it’s allowed me to find my people.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.pamuzzell.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arthealspodcast/, https://www.instagram.com/puzzelld/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pam.uzzell, https://www.facebook.com/arthealspodcast/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/pamuzzell/
- Twitter: @arthealspodcast
- Other: arthealsallwoundspodcast.com
Image Credits
Marjorie Sturm, Lydia Thelemaque, Lyra Kamoku