Hey Readers, it’s Co-editor Gail.
So, I have been a Bo Burnham fan for many years now. I personally cannot recommend all of his work enough and I’ve been debating if I should do a blog about his newest Netflix Special Inside. Given its subject matter, making any mention of it online content, even praise, feel like somewhat of a betrayal.
Inside is just the latest evolution of his excellent introspection driven repertoire. It is funny, heart wrenching, has stunning visuals and audio and gives the viewer complete pandemic catharsis. Also, all of the songs SLAP! I think it is a new cultural touchstone and is going to be analyzed and discussed for years to come.
But as much as I love doing deep textual analysis and as much as I just want to gush about the lighting design, that’s actually not what I am going to do. There are tons of YouTube videos already doing that and if you have seen the special you understand the cruel irony and hypocrisy of even using it to make internet content in the first place.
Instead, I am going to get a little introspective myself and talk about the special in a greater sense about how I enjoy art. I don’t know about y’all, but I’m the type of person who falls into obsessions and hyper fixations. Especially when artists I admire like Burnham put out new work.
When a new piece that moves me comes out, the passionate fan girl switch in my brain gets flipped. I’ll watch the new work multiple times, have any music involved on repeat and I’ll look up clips of past work and interviews (I was happy to find in comment sections that I wasn’t the only one doing this).
I’ll imagine meeting the artist thinking I’ll be the cool fan who is super chill and able to carry a deep conversation when in reality I know I’d be freaking out and awkward and end up babbling because I’d be so nervous. That person and their art starts to live in my mind rent free becomes the center of my inner mental and emotional world for a bit.
The unintended consequence of all this self-imposed overstimulation is that the particular person and piece can become all I really want to think and talk about which of course is not the healthiest thing and can be dangerous with parasocial relationships (a term I probably first learned from Burnham himself now that I think of it).
But at the same time in my real relationships, I am hesitant to keep bringing it up because I don’t want to come off as obsessed or annoying even if I know they watched and enjoyed the work themselves. I trap myself in my own rabbit hole. A rabbit hole filled with things that make me smile, laugh, and sometimes cry but a rabbit hole, nonetheless. Writing this blog is a way to let what I am feeling out of that hole.
I’ve have always been told that I am a good audience, a title I wear with pride and honor. I love watching what someone has created and being left in awe of it. That feeling of “wow I get to live on this planet at the same time as them and get to witness this brilliance”.
I think it just comes down to the fact that when a work of art makes me feel something, makes me feel alive, especially when things have been as rough as they have been lately, I get back on these kicks to distract me and get me through it. Ultimately, I don’t think there is any shame in letting art hold power over you, but I also think that in most cases, it is actually us using the art’s power to hold ourselves up.
Bo Burnham will most likely never see this blog, but I do want to take a moment to say thank you for Inside. Thank you for making art that has touched and inspired myself and so many others.
Gail Bello is a poet and playwright from Waltham, Massachusetts. She graduated in 2019 with a BFA in Creative Writing and a minor in Theatre from The University of Maine at Farmington. Find her previous publications at https://thaumaturgedramaturge.wordpress.com and follow her on Twitter @AquajadeGail