We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Xian Elder a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Xian, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.

The number one risk I’ve taken creatively is letting go. I have to let go every day; I can be a perfectionist, although I intellectually realize it’s not the road toward communicative art. One of the milestones of my personal journey has been diving headlong into recovery from addiction to alcohol and substances. I had long believed using alcohol and drugs was integral to the creative process like many of my heroes in arts and entertainment. My creative output was a kind of chaotic “method acting” process that could include self destructive behavior. And I feared I wouldn’t be able to generate passion and immediacy in my work without the aid of a mind-altering substance. The funny thing is, when you get some recovery time it’s not just a matter of clarity that makes that idea a misconception, it’s radical acceptance of one’s self that opens the door to authentic vulnerability. I’m no longer trying to escape who I am, which has turned out to be an abundant gift to my life and my creative pursuits. Empathy is a key ingredient an artist must possess. Movie critic Roger Ebert had coined the phrase “empathy machines” to describe how movies have the potential to uplift through identification with a good story. So, sometimes when people ask what I do, I say I’m an empathy machinist. In my writing, I talk about my problems, my deep, dark wounds, I embellish them a little, of course, but I bare myself because I know that kind of pain is universal. The problem of addiction is often a theme I revisit in my work, sometimes consciously and sometimes unconsciously. But in the end those stories are really about fear and attachment to things that will be swords we all fall upon unless we grow beyond them and let go.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

I like to think of myself as dabbling as a visual essayist in my formative years. I grew up in the San Fernando Valley and was excited by visual art not long after my consciousness came online, so to speak. Both of my parents were in the entertainment field and offered a great deal of encouragement. Painting and drawing was my early creative refuge, they were vehicles for storytelling and ideas that shocked people’s sensibilities. That felt mystical. I also enjoyed the benefits of being nurtured in a sophisticated creative environment. So, while I could just as easily share my love of RoboCop and Terminator with my peers, simultaneously I would flip-the-script hard when I introduced them to stuff like the King of Comedy, Barry Lyndon, and The Tin Drum. Eventually, I ended up studying fine art in Florence, Italy for close to two years, and upon my return to Los Angeles I found work as a draftsman in advertising. I worked primarily on drafting composites for movie posters. It was during this time I was invigorated to write poetry and develop stories. Since then, I’ve been a Quarterfinalist in the Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting and I received the de Groot Foundation’s Writer of Note Award for my play about racism and relationships called #NWORD. The play has been read at Urban Stages in New York, presented for a virtual online reading by the same theater, and was presented as a live streamed featured reading at the National Black Theatre Festival in North Carolina. I’m the writer and director of two short films as well; currently I have a quirky romantic comedy about polyamory called POLYVORE featured on YouTube’s short film platform Omeleto. And I’m in post-production on my third short film, WOKE, a story about a vampire and former slave who joins a clandestine 12-step program called Feeders Anonymous. It’s a stylish horror drama. And the producer and I hope it will garner the attention we seek to turn it into a successful feature film.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

I remember one time I was watching Larry King on TV. It was an interview with Stevie Wonder, and what I recall is that Larry asked him what he thought when people called him a “genius.” And immediately with a great deal of humility, Stevie refused to take credit for anything he created; he pointed his finger upward and suggested God blessed him with all his work. Now, by no means would I dare compare myself to Stevie Wonder, someone I’ve often casually declared a genius myself. I raise this example only because it’s never left my mind. My gratitude for discovering and receiving my creative “voice” is beyond my ability to express. Finding my confidence as a writer and a storyteller was a struggle in the early years, but I would never trade those hardships for the grace of having a “voice.” This means I have a story to tell, it comes from an inexplicable place, and I am tasked with executing it. I don’t question the voice, I don’t challenge where it wants to take the story; I just try to get out of the way and bring it to the computer screen. See, conversely, I watch people who are just learning their craft as storytellers, and I really feel for them when they have yet to tap into that thing that is bigger than themselves. Writing can be hard but it doesn’t have to be scary. You will reach a point where you no longer doubt getting from point A to point B. That kind of faith will become second nature. That’s a true creative reward. It’s a kind of freedom.

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

When I was a teenager I read “The Fire Next Time” and “Another Country” and I wanted to be James Baldwin. When I was studying art in Europe I decided I was going to be the next Jean-Michel Basquiat. And now I’m just me and I enjoy it. I feel present. I catch moments and let them go. I like being me so much I wish I could give this feeling away to everybody else. And the only way I know how to do that is to show people, in words or in pictures. That is how I transmit the appreciation of life and promote discourse on subjects I’m curious about. Ultimately, I tell stories to foster connection, which I think is sorely needed in today’s world.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://christianelder.org
• Instagram: @Xian_Elder
• Twitter: @Xian_Elder

Image Credits

Ian Datz
Unknown
Oluwasegun Oladele-ajose
Unknown
Douglas Shaner
Ian Datz
Kennon B. Raines