They’re Really Close to My Body: A Hagiography of Nine Inch Nails and Their Resident Mystic Robin Finck

A Lecture by Johanna Hedva as part of their Parrhesiades project Reading Is Yielding

8 November 2019
00:00
01:22

As part as the exhibition The Season of Cartesian Weeping curated by Hana Noorali and Lynton Talbot for DRAF’s Curators’ Series 12 (29 October–8 December 2019) Johanna Hedva has been invited to present an entirely new performance which will be delivered for the first time at DRAF in London.

Roberts Institute of Art

Johanna Hedva, said,This lecture is from my book-in-progress, The Mess, which deals with the weird truth of how music was my first encounter with both masculinity and mysticism, and what a fucking mess that was. Encountering the mystical fury of Nine Inch Nails at age 10 was an encounter with everything I wanted the world to be: chaotic, feverish, ungovernable. After being a devoted fan for 25 years (yes, they are my favorite band), I still want the world to be like this.

Robin Finck, NIN’s reclusive touring guitarist, became the first guide I had who pulled me toward becoming the genderqueer mystic I am today. Finck didn’t look like a man or a woman, and he was not quite even human. He fit no rock-star archetype I’d seen, but was something closer to a demon ghost who beckoned me through an inter-dimensional gate. Calling him a mystic is not at all explicit, and it’s taken me years to realize that this was the role he played in my life, that by watching him slip in and out of legibility, I was not necessarily watching an individual, but what was coming through that individual. The task of the hagiographer is to interpret what is unknowable; this lecture is my attempt at his hagiography.

Watching him play the guitar (and this is all we have; he only tours every few years, does not release solo work, and rarely gives interviews) taught me something integral about the body.The guitar is a body, in and of itself, and so you have to meet and understand it with yours. As with any lover, it requires that you invent and share a language together, which only the two of you speak. Because the body has to be simultaneously felt and exploded in mysticism, the first feeling that compelled me toward thinking about mysticism was how I felt in my own body. The feeling that dominated it, and still does, is that I wanted to live outside of it, without and beyond it. I didn’t know how to do this, or if it was even possible, but watching Robin Finck, continuously slipping out of the roles that the world tried to put him in, showed me a way.'

A composite image of two black and white photographs. On the left stands a woman in a dark long belted jumpsuit, wearing glasses. On the left a man with black punk haircut, leather jacket, black skinny jeans and army boots holds an electric guitar.

This performance was hosted by DRAF in association with The White Review. Supported by Arcadia Missa and Parrhesiades.

Johanna Hedva

Johanna Hedva is a Korean-American writer, artist, musician, and astrologer, who was raised in Los Angeles by a family of witches, and now lives in LA and Berlin. They are the author of the novel, On Hell (2018, Sator Press). Their fiction and nonfiction has appeared in Triple Canopy, The White Review, Black Warrior Review, and anthologized in GenderFail and Asian American Literary Review. Their essay ‘Sick Woman Theory’, published in 2016 in Mask, has been translated into six languages. Their album The Sun and the Moon was released in March 2019. Two of its tracks were played on the moon. In 2019, they’ve been touring Black Moon Lilith in Pisces in the 4th House, a drone metal guitar and voice performance influenced by Korean shamanist ritual.

Image credits

An alphabet composed of devils, from Paris, 1836. Found in A History of Lettering: The History, Anatomy, and Aesthetics of the Roman Letter Forms, a book published in 1971 that Hedva stole from the CalArts library. Courtesy the artist.

Simone Weil (left) and Robin Finck (right). Robin Finck image copyright Jospeh Cultice, 1994.