
Mono Theory is an experimental artist from South Central, PA. Her signature style stems from a rich classical/operatic background, a catholic upbringing, and a deep love for sound art. Her sound is a mix of electronica, experimental field recordings, ambient drone, industrial, and noise.
In this interview, we discuss hometown hostility, living through trauma, finding a community through Japanese Lolita fashion, her latest album “Pareidolia”, and much more.
FANE: Tell us a little bit about growing up? What was that like?
Mono Theory: I’m from a small historical town In the south of Pennsylvania, right on the northern border of the Mason-Dixon line and about 40 or so minutes away from Baltimore city. It was decently sized, definitely not the smallest town by any stretch of the imagination, but very closed off and divided within the locals, especially by race and economic class.
I grew up in a multi-ethnic family, being half Puerto Rican and half white, and there was never a moment in my life where I wasn’t seen as different. My mother let me spend a lot of time with my grandparents when I was little, so often time it felt like I was switching lives, and often times switching versions of myself, in each family. In my mom’s family, I would live an average rural Appalachian childhood, but with my dad, I was Puerto Rican and was raised as one. My father surrounded me with the familiarity of his own childhood, so I would spend a lot of time with my Abuela on weekdays and weekends.
We were roman catholic, so we always went to mass to pray together and to speak with our priest during confession. When I was little, I attended mass at a Church that was mostly attended by Hispanic families. It was the only sense of belonging I felt I had when I was little. The beauty of my childhood church is something that even now still brings me to tears, with its white dusty statues and creaky seats and velvety floors with that bittersweet scent of bergamot and sage.
There was a competing church for white catholics just down the street from the Spanish church I attended, and if you were seen there, you would be deemed a traitor. Most people who grew up here didn’t have the money or resources to make a life for themselves or to build relationships or bonds with one another. Most were too busy just trying to not get kicked out on the street, which I saw all throughout my childhood. My town was that kind of a blue collar town where you either move far away and don’t come back at any time except to visit family, you go into the military, or you stay in that town for the rest of your life.
F: Are you still living there, or have you made your escape?
MT: For now, I am stuck to live in my home town. I don’t have the money or resources to move away at this moment in time, and as of now I don’t have the financial security to go on tour. I’ve planned that in a few years, once I graduate from college and get my degree, I am going to try to move far away from this place, hopefully when I go into grad school. I’m to a point where I don’t even particularly care about where I go. I have some ideas for places I can move to and stay, but I just want to live somewhere where I feel like I can have more security, and where I can live as a person and not in a vacuum seal left on the highest setting.
Most people in my town see people like me as vermin needing to be disposed of, and my fear of being targeted because of my identity gets worse everyday. I want to live somewhere where no one knows who I am so I can start over, living semi anonymously. At this point in time, my hometown feels like a prison that I can’t get out of, so anywhere I can make an escape will be worth it. I know one thing that’s for certain, I don’t want to live in this awful place for the rest of my life.
F: What was your favorite toy growing up? What was special about it?
MT: I’m definitely gonna have to say dolls. Since I was little, I’ve always been so captivated with the mesmerizing beauty of dolls; with their extravagant costumes and beautiful hair, gorgeous eyes and ethereal energy. As a child, my great grandmother on my mom’s side was a doll collector, and I always loved going to her house filled with so many beautiful Dolls. My great grandmother’s entire living room was filled with so many dolls of all shapes and sizes, and I loved just sitting there and watching cartoons with them. I was so ecstatic to just admire all of their similarities and differences, and I always felt as if they were angels who were watching over me and keeping me safe.
I think when the world got a little too complicated for me, I just wanted to escape my life and be one of them; having happy beautiful days every day, free of the greed and pain that controls the real world. As an adult now I collect antique dolls. I think it’s because they allow me to identify with my own femininity in a way that doesn’t make me feel commodified, but instead connected to the security of my lost girlhood.

“Most people in my town see people like me as vermin needing to be disposed of, and my fear of being targeted because of my identity gets worse everyday.”
F: When did you first start to question your Identity?
MT: When I was about 14 or so, I suppose. I had known that something was up with me, but I really wasn’t sure what it was. As a young girl, I was sex repulsed, and I never understood how compulsive physical attraction worked for others. I was always attracted to others through their personalities and who they were as people. I could never imagine only being attracted to another person for their physicality. For a long time I felt like there was something wrong with me, because I lacked that ability to understand physical attraction for intimacy and sensuality.
For a really long time I had a lot of internalized homophobia, which made me ashamed to come out about my sexuality as a pan-romantic girl on the asexual spectrum. For as long as I could remember, I had always felt very out of place within the society around me, that pressured girls once they hit a certain age to sacrifice themselves and their bodies during intimacy in the name of becoming “women”. I hated this idea to my core, and I hated being told that I would never be a real woman if I didn’t adhere to the male gaze.
I think this was due to growing up Puerto Rican. Most Puerto Rican girls force themselves to grow up fast, and are pressured to act and dress older than they are. Acting sexy and mature never came naturally to me; I always felt like I was kind of harming myself or wearing this mask that was slowly burning me whenever I dressed for male attention or physical validation. In fact, I hated when people commented on my body in general. I hated being seen as a fantasy and not a complex person with feelings, and I just hated even being perceived as attractive.
On top of this, I witnessed all of the ways that men and boys talked about other bodies like pieces of fresh or used up meat. I witnessed women being catcalled and followed on the way back to their cars late at night, and knew women who were picked out for perceived convenience and naivety for an unsuspected assault or attack. I saw all of this pain, and I knew that I would one day be next, and it really broke me. Then I decided that I wouldn’t ever let myself come to that end.
I think this is why, as a young girl, Japanese street fashion styles such as Shironuri, Sweet Lolita, Dolly and Mori Kei were so mind blowing to me. They gave me the ability to express my feminine style without feeling caged by the male gaze. They made me feel free, and they showed me that I didn’t have to live my life just one way. That life is what you make of it, and if you’re not happy, you can make changes so long as that is what you want. Once I started living for myself and not for external validation, the feeling of constant inadequacy started to dwindle, especially after learning about Japanese street fashion.
As a little girl, when I first learned about Lolita fashion, it blew my mind that people actually lived that life and dedicated that much time to it. All I wanted to do was to escape the society I felt like I was trapped in and go to that little corner of the world where boys and girls could all be beautiful royalty every day, with no care for how the greater part of larger society perceived them.
F: That’s interesting to me, as Lolita fashion is often associated more with the predators who prey on those within that world than the creatives wearing the fashion. Was that something that ever concerned you?
MT: Interestingly, I’ve been met with the opposite the entire time I’ve been in the community. This tends to be a mindset that people outside of our general circles come to believe about j-fashion, especially with Lolita. People associate us with more extreme parts of the fetish community such as DDLG or ABDL, but Lolita has no connection to those communities, and does not support the sexualization of children. In fact, most Lolitas I know are trying to escape sexualization.
The origins of Lolita are Feminist in nature, stemming from Japanese women’s wishes to express their femininity without feeling commodified by their body. Most Lolitas I know are actively trying to avoid those who sexualize the style. Every person I’ve ever met who has participated in Lolita has never seen this lifestyle as a fetish; they see it as an escape from the rigidness of society. I suppose this mainly comes from the name, which came from Japan in the 1990s, and has no connection to the novel by Vladimir Nabokov. However, individuals who don’t have knowledge about our history tend to get this idea, mostly due to the name. Most people that I’ve known who have engaged in j-fashion have had some kind of trait where they felt difficulty in expressing themselves in the context of their autonomy and social skills; so many Lolitas I’ve known have been on the asexual spectrum.
F: Are you familiar with the work of Trevor Brown? What are your thoughts on him and his art?
MT: I am familiar with the work of Trevor Brown, and while I think he is an excellent illustrator with a fantastic art style, I do not support him or his art. It is such a shame, because I really enjoy the artistic movements that he was a part of, like lowbrow and steampunk. I love the contrast of his pastel, story book style with edgy and grotesque themes.
However, I think he takes this way too far with the unnecessary sexualization of children, especially when paired with references of extreme fetish and BDSM. There are also themes of racism that surround his work, including the fetishization of Asian women and children through their perceived innocence, which in general just really bothers me.
Maybe I could enjoy it more if he was trying to spread a message about child CSA or trauma, but to me his works read as just an excuse to sexualize children, with no purpose. I do wonder, in his case, if his work acts as an outlet for his own dark fantasies? I remember reading of him admitting to being attracted to minors in a past interview. [Editor’s Note: Interview in YKnow from 2009 where Trevor states “I’m not even particularly sexually attracted to children at all. Well, physically, not until around the age of 14 but even then intellectual immaturity would make them fall short of desirability for me (although 14 year old females fans that have written to me haven’t sounded exactly stupid). I love 18 year olds who look 12!” yknow-interviews.blogspot.com/2009/10/trevor-brown-artist.html]

“You never know how much joy in your life can be taken away from you when you develop such a destructive, obsessive habit that isolates you from your loved ones and friends.”
F: Many of us within the TLGBQIA2S+ community often feel isolated/othered. Have you had that experience? How did you navigate finding a community?
MT: I don’t think that there has ever been a moment in my life where I haven’t felt othered. As a kid, I was really shy and anxious. I’ve always thought about things and worried about insignificant things more than anyone else I’ve ever known. Even as a young adult, I’m still a very anxious person and I often fear for my future and sense of security along with my loved ones and friends. I’ve realized that my fear will never go away, but it’s how I respond to the fear that will allow me to overcome it, and finally live.
I think finding a community is definitely something that has helped me, but this process is different for everyone; it’s not easy and can take a long time. I know people who have gone their entire lives without having a support system. They’ve been locked inside themselves, stuck in survival mode since they were children, and when they grew up, they became used to the avoidance, and it became the only home they’d ever had. Some people do genuinely like to be alone, but I think finding like minded people who fully support you as a person is one of the biggest steps to recovery and healing.
F: Was/is there someone who stood out as an ally for you during that time?
MT: Unfortunately, due to me being so young, I really didn’t have any of the emotional skills or tools to advocate for myself, and not many adults advocated for me either. This caused me to suffer silently for most of my childhood. I didn’t know how to tell people what I was feeling, and I didn’t think it wasn’t normal. This is why as an adult, I love being able to advocate for other people in a way in which I never got advocated for in childhood. I write about these experiences, along with pysch/case studies I research in my free time with the experiences of other previously non verbal individuals. I can only speak of my own experiences, but studying cases of fellow non verbal speakers and other survivors of trauma gives me a new perspective that I wouldn’t have previously considered.
F: How did you first get into/discover music on a more serious level?
MT: I’ve always been around music since I was very young. I’ve been taking lessons in voice since I was about 4 or 5. I didn’t come from a musical or artistic family, but my father played guitar and was a metal head, so he exposed me to all types of music at a very young age. As a result, I’ve always enjoyed music and partook in music, but I didn’t start having an emotional bond to music until I started listening to ambient/ drone records along with the occasional harsh noise albums back in middle school. I suppose the thing that drew me in to this type of music was how raw it all was. It didn’t rely on cheesy makeup, or a screamo growl to scare the living shit out of listeners.
Experimental music just brings the blood of an artists unspeakable pain to the forefront without having to rely on sparkly or pretty words. It made me feel less alone in many of my darkest moments. I listened to so many of these albums and artists, and I dreamt of making music like them because I was so mesmerized by all of them. It’s kind of surreal that half of the people I listened to back then when I was so young and closed off from the world, I either know and talk to now, or we share the same community and circles.
F: Who were the big influences on the development of your personal sound?
MT: My influences stem from several places. I originally started many of my earliest recordings inspired by the works of Steve Roden and Testu Inoue, doing purely lowercase style recordings of sounds I collected/recorded from my bedroom. I would often make small homemade contact mic instruments using pieces of broken wire, glass, forks, marbles, old metal scraps, or just about any material I could get my hands on. Sometimes I would add on small loops of my voice that I would utilize for extra texture. I still have some of these recordings. I only ever posted them onto a private music forum I used to circulate back in 2018.
After that, I started trying to actually formulate songs, with an intention to replicate to sounds of artists such as Julee Cruise, Björk, and Aspidistrafly. For a long time I struggled in finding a style that felt right for me, due to backlash in my local community. Recently, I decided I wanted to honor my early classical training in opera, and I could use my voice to create texture and sound. As a result I feel like I am both a singer and performer, along with a sound artist, which is not that common in experimental music.
F: What’s an album you couldn’t live without that you consider to be highly influential?
MT: I could never live without Björk’s 2001 release, Vespertine. I first listened to it right after I turned 13, after I experienced a deeply traumatizing event that left me unable to speak and emotionally disturbed until the age of 16. Even now, years later, I still struggle to speak at times, and I have days where I can get flustered. Trying to physically put all of my words together can feel like putting together a puzzle with pieces missing.
This album has been there for me more than any other person in my life ever could. It allowed me to feel as if I could be ok, that I didn’t have to try so hard just to complete basic tasks and to function. I could simply be as I was, and I would be loved the same. Even listening to the album now, I can say that this album really saved my life. It was one of the biggest things that repaired my relationship with my self esteem, my bodily autonomy, and my right for consent.

“People either get the message I try to convey through my work almost immediately and it moves them, or they don’t understand it at all.”
F: May we discuss that trauma from your childhood, just on the surface? I won’t pry, you can just tell me whatever you’re willing to openly discuss and we’ll leave it there. I don’t want to draw blood from old wounds, I just want to provide visibility for others who may have a shared experience.
MT: I feel like my entire childhood was like a long flight of stairs that have led me to where I am now. There wasn’t just one instance, but a lifetime of instances that have affected me. I didn’t have the best relationship with my family for the majority of my childhood. Alcoholism is in my family, and when people would drink, they’d change. I used to get so scared. Fortunately, things are different now.
I suppose when children are exposed to things that they don’t understand or can’t control, they can feel as if they are at fault. I spent so much time trying to not make any person angry that I would well up my feelings into a ball, only to burst when I was alone.
I let me guard down trying to make everyone happy, and some bad people got through. I lost emotional feeling for years; it was like these assaults numbed me and hurt me. I fell inside myself. I was just so afraid of people. I feared being re-victimized. These experiences still have impact on my everyday life, but they don’t control me like they did, and they certainly don’t define me.
F: I appreciate you sharing those experiences with us. I’m not going to ask for any further details, as I don’t want to cause anymore pain. I’m going to pivot to another topic. When did you first take Mono Theory to the stage? What was it like performing in front of strangers?
MT: If I’m not mistaken, my first actual Mono Theory set was in a small community theater. They were doing a local music showcase and I was one of the first artist to be featured. During this time, I was way too scared to go on stage with the gear I recorded with, so I resorted to a stripped back set with a mini keyboard and a reverb machine for my vocals. It’s crazy to think of how long ago that was, and how much I have changed and grown as an artist. I feel like now, I’ve decided to not care about trying to fit into a neatly defined category of sound. I can make passionate music that I am proud of, and people who also feel that sense of passion will find it and connect to it.
F: How has the reception to your work been so far? Any positive experiences to share?
MT: While I find most of the reception I receive to be good, I feel like peoples reactions to my music are generally polarized. However, one of the craziest parts about performing has been finding people who feel seen through my work. I never expected that. When I first started writing my songs, I was trying to get back into writing after I hadn’t written any poetry for years. I had to give up writing for a brief period of time; I found writing and reading to be challenging due to becoming nonverbal. So when I first started, I cared more about the physical act of writing again than focusing on if people would relate to it. I simply wrote of my experiences and how I felt at the time when I went into recovery. To know that people connect with lyrics that I wrote about the love, loss, heartbreak, death, trauma, and illness I’ve felt since I was a child has been surreal. Also comforting in a way that I can’t ever fully put into words. I’ve had people come up to me crying after hearing me perform for the first time. Most of my sets often feel like group therapy sessions; afterwards every person who was there has expelled something that they had locked away. I feel the audience is left with this gratitude for one another, which is the biggest honor to harness such an amazing environment.
F: On that same coin, have there been negative experiences putting yourself out there? I’ve often heard horror stories of overzealous fans, hostile audiences, or just outright perverts slathering their uninvited ick all over.
MT: I’ve had a few negative experiences. Maybe it’s because many of my biggest influences stem from early musique concrete and lowercase music, which are all generally niche forms of drone and experimental music, but people either like my work, or they don’t. I do also tend to sing about my own experiences and childhood memories, along with the unspoken stories of other people who I read about in psychological/clinical case studies. People either get the message that I try to convey through my work almost immediately and it moves them, or they don’t understand it at all.
There’ve been some individuals who’ve been a bit para-social with my work, who then became unhealthily intrusive over the more private details of my life. I’ve had individuals who have tried to find out where I live and implant themselves into my personal life, like they were a silent watcher treating me as if I’m not human, but some helpless toy. Regardless of what feedback I receive, I try to not let other people’s opinions on my work affect my relationship with myself. It can be hard when you make open and vulnerable art, but it’s imperative that you don’t take it personally. Some people will take your kindness as weakness, and your weakness as a target to tear apart.
I’ve also experienced a lot of resistance and censorship in my hometown. Many of the promoters and local venues in my area had a strong dislike for any kind of music that wasn’t made for punk rockers, so I was kicked out of my city and told by locals that my music had no place there. I was then forced to leave to other places and nearby cities where people would accept my art for what it was.
An older artist whom I respect once told me that the world is going to humble good artists, because they don’t want that in their greater society, they do not want the insiders to look beyond what they’ve been led to believe their entire lives, and those who break those illusions of the greater society are seen as a threat, which is why they are cast aside. It’s amazing to me how many individuals don’t want to face the reality of how their neighbors and peers live on a daily basis; it’s sad how desensitized we have become to other’s suffering.

“When I’m dissociating, I become physically and mentally numb, and I feel like I am outside of my body. I try to make my sounds reflect that, hovering over the world and watching your loved ones and friends like a ghost with no body or identity, wondering if this is what it feels like to truly be alive.”
F: Let’s talk about your latest album, “Pareidolia”. First, why that title?
MT: Pareidolia is a psychological phenomenon based on the notion of the “uncanny valley”, where our brains can see human features and behavior in non human objects. I wanted to name the album this because I think it really spoke to how when humans are in unfamiliar environments, we reach to find familiarity and connection in the environments around us. Similarly, when individuals find themselves in deep isolation, they find human features in the objects around them in an attempt to feel like they do have other people to connect to and to pass the time with. This album covers a wide range of topics including morbid and clinical depression, dissociation, love and a loss of self after grief and trauma. I also discuss life and death, along with rebirthing after traumatic events, which can be heard in songs like, “you look beautiful from up here” and “VOID”.
F: Tell me about the writing process. How did you approach creating these tracks that make up the album?
MT: Every track is a bit different. Some were easier to write, and some were very taxing to write. Finding the strength to write again after I became nonverbal took many years and patience. Although it took me about 5 years to get back into writing after my aphasia set in, I’m happy that I never gave up on writing. For a long time, I thought I would never get my ability to write back again, but I’m very lucky to be able to functionally communicate and talk semi-normally now.
A lot of the songs on Pareidolia are about 2 and a half years old, some of which I written during a low point in my life; I was unable to process my own thoughts and feelings. So, I tried to approach my own retrospective feelings of hopelessness with kindness. Sometimes the best form of self care we have is to treat ourselves with the kindness that we wish we received as children, so at times when I get uncertain, I try to give myself grace and time. When I give myself time to really process what I’m thinking, it can be my greatest strength.
F: Which of the album’s songs was the most difficult for you to write, either technically or emotionally?
MT: The most difficult song for me on Pareidolia would be “You Look Beautiful From Up Here”. This song is probably the oldest song of the album by far. I made it over 3 years ago over the course of a few months on and off. A few years later, I rediscovered it and decided to use it. For a long time, I was really scared of releasing this song, as when I originally wrote it, I intended for it to be a death note for the project all together. This song was written about a habit I used to have back when I still went to school. I used to commute to the city everyday and after school, I had to wait for the bus to get back home. I would walk up to the rooftop on my school, and stand by myself, looking down at all of the beauty and life that the city carried underneath me. While doing this, I imagined what it would be like for me to jump. Sometimes I would just sit on the ledge, not moving, but imagining what it would feel like to fly in the air, never to hit the ground. This is probably one of my favorite moments on the album.
F: Is there a track on here you have a particularly strong connection to? I mean, they’re all of you, and you’re connected to them all, but I’m talking about the proverbial “favorite child”.
MT: I feel as if I have a strong connection to all of my songs. However, one song that I particularly love would be “Revelations IV”. I’m I most proud of this song in terms of writing. “Revelations IV” details a previous Christmas where I attended mass at my childhood church for the first time in seven years after I left Catholicism. I thought the process was really painful and sad. The location felt both painfully familiar and yet alien to me; I felt like I was being watched wherever I went. Needless to say, I felt like a monster, and I was not welcome there.
The only way I can properly explain how it all felt, to me, is like when you return to a dead loved one’s house after having ended on bad terms. There is hurt, but there’s also a lot of longing for something that will never call back to you. You wish to seek refuge in a place that no longer exists, to speak to someone who didn’t even see you as human. Revelations IV represents having to leave one’s home and way of life to seek refuge and safety in a new world.
F: I genuinely love how strong but delicate your music is. Sorta like a spider’s web. How do you define your sound?
MT: A pseudo artistic spiderweb is a very accurate description of my sound overall! My music is a really good mixture of quiet and loud, hard and soft, which is what I do feel like I am as a person. I’m admittedly not the most sociable person on the planet, but I am passionate about things that interest me. Often I have so much passion that I mask my feelings away out of fear of how neurotypical people will perceive me because I have ADHD. I think that my music really reflects this part of me as I have a lot of music that speaks to an unmasked version of myself where I don’t have to worry about social cues, or if anyone will accept or reject what I have to say. This allows me to reflect within myself in more quiet times of retrospection, along with the loud, raw and honest states of mind I can find myself in where I don’t really care if anyone agrees with me. It’s like I have no mouth, but I must scream.
F: “Adderall” sticks out to me. It’s possibly the most impassioned track on the album, at least in terms of sonic feel. Earlier, you mentioned you have ADHD, as do I. How has that impacted your life?
MT: When I was writing “Adderall”, I based it off of when I first got diagnosed with ADHD and was put on meds in an attempt to treat my inability to focus. However, my medication had the opposite effect, and I eventually just stopped feeling things. It was as if this medication was making me an emotionless zombie. In this way, I think “Adderall” is moreover a metaphor for addiction, And speaks more upon the way people often tend to use substances that can physically numb them to distract themselves from tackling the direct issues in the their lives head on. It speaks of a kind of hunger for danger and excitement, which manifests into an addiction for that unhealthy behavior, as some short term escape from the real problem. An individual can get hooked on the emotional excitement from physical pain and discomfort. Something that I really tried to illustrate within the song is how humiliating and lonely addiction truly becomes for the sufferer. You never know how much joy in your life can be taken away from you when you develop such a destructive, obsessive habit that isolates you from your loved ones and friends.
F: There are a lot of field recordings present on this album, particularly birdsongs which appear throughout. How do birds factor into the album’s overall message?
MT: I live in a rural part of Pennsylvania, so I just have good access to birds and Appalachian woodland forests. On top of this, I for one really enjoy nature, so when I do go outside to go on a hike, or explore the woods, I often tend to record. I try to record everything that I can, regardless of what I may be doing there. This has given me a very wide library of organic sounds that I normally use in soundbite and textures. The sounds that you hear throughout this release often are the sounds that I hear while I travel.
I feel like bird sounds are just very tied to my personal sense of nostalgia. I heard them so much as a child while I was outside. I’ve always connected them with safety. Even silent locations I’ve tried to record. I feel that these recordings build character within the songs, giving them more complexity. One of my favorite field recordings within my latest album is in “You Look Beautiful From Up Here”. It features a recording of an abandoned train station in New York City, which can be heard at the end of the song, representing transition into the spirit world. In “Revelations IV”, I took recordings of my old church during empty hours and added them into the background. I do this so that listeners can feel that they are being transported to another location when listening.

“I know people who have gone their entire lives without having a support system. They’ve been locked inside themselves, stuck in survival mode since they were children, and when they grew up, they became used to the avoidance, and it became the only home they’d ever had.”
F: Who’s the Valerie you sing about on “Song for Valerie”? What impact have they had on your life?
MT: When I was first writing “Song for Valerie”, I wanted to base this song off of my Great Grandmother, who was a German Orthodox Christian who grew up during the Great Depression in PA. I intended to make detail her life, and how she dedicated it to giving people the kindness that she never received. However, as I kept writing, the song became more inspired by my closest friends and how I loved them for their own abilities to spread kindness. I saw similarities within how I loved them for who they were as people, but I couldn’t physically put into words how much I loved all of them. Thus, “Song for Valerie” is not about just one person in particular, but instead a reflection of the love I feel for the close friends I have in my life.
I find it so sad how our society doesn’t acknowledge the complexity of human love and connection. We only care if the other person gives us a physical chemical reaction through sexual contact or romantic interactions. I find so many peoples’ ideas of what love is supposed to be so vain and shallow, honestly. I find it sad how disconnected we’ve all become. We can’t even take joy in being alone with each other anymore without it being tied to some kind of transaction. My closest friends have been there to support and protect me more than any romantic partner ever has. When you find people that love you as you are, and not for what you can provide, it can have such a positive impact on your entire life.
F: You do all of your own visual work (album art, videos, etc.). Tell us a little about that.
MT: All of my work is created as multi-media. My photography takes the forefront in a lot of my most recent work, especially for the shoot I did for “Pareidolia”. I have an interest in creating eeriness within my work, and I have always had an interest in ghost photography. Every project has had a kinda different approach in how I want to take the visual art. “Pareidolia” was more traditional photography, but “Panacea” was more multimedia photo manipulation and illustration.
I’ve always made my own photography and visual art; I love to reference things from art history, along with paintings that I love. I also like to collaborate with my fellow artist friends in various ways, whether it be taking photos with them, incorporating illustrations/paintings, writing together on songs, or performing with them. In this way, Mono Theory is not only a labor of love from my end, but also a collaborative labor of love between all of my closest friends and loved ones, where I get to showcase their work too!
F: Who, if anyone, would you say is a big influence on your visual work?
MT: I feel like my general vibe and aesthetic are a mix of many things, but I’m really inspired by the works of David Lynch. I am a big fan of Muholland Drive, Blue Velvet, and Twin Peaks. I love making references to his work through my photography and visual art! My literary work is Inspired by late 19th century and early 20th century femme gothic writers and surrealist authors, such as Virginia Wolf, V.C. Andrews, and Sylvia Plath. I also reference the works of horror movies, along with artists, performers, and composers that I enjoy. For instance, on “this world is not meant for me” I sampled one of the performances from the Japanese performance artist, Sachiko Abe. She is most well known for cutting paper into thin, web-like strips, creating a “sea of paper” all around her as she cuts.
The song “VOID” was partially inspired by a horror movie my friend showed me. It was about a girl who died, but when she passed into to afterlife, she couldn’t go to heaven or hell. Instead, she became stuck in a loop of reliving her life leading up to her death, with no memory of her identity and past before her death. Over time, dying becomes her only sense of security, where she exists to die, over and over again.
F: If you could collaborate with any artist, living or dead, who is someone that you would pick? Why?
MT: I would probably go with Steve Roden. Even though his main focus was in painting and art installations, Steve Roden is known in music for popularizing and creating the modern terminology for lowercase, which is one of my favorite sound art movements. It broke barriers of what sound could be. Listening to such beautiful, small increments of tiny sound, cut up into unearthly pieces of surrealistic noise was so satisfying; it changed how I viewed sound forever. It gave music more freedom than anything I’d ever learned when I was in classical music studies, which was caged by strict structures and rules. In a way, these odd movements of sound made me feel really seen when I had aphasia, and they validated how I felt in that state, along with how I viewed the world as a generally introverted person.
F: Talk to us about something you don’t feel gets enough attention.
MT: One thing that I suppose doesn’t get enough attention would be dissociative disorders. I feel like I base most of my work on dissociation, and I try to really illustrate through music how dissociation feels. When I’m dissociating, I become physically and mentally numb and I feel like I am outside of my body. I try to make my sounds reflect that, hovering over the world and watching your loved ones and friends like a ghost with no body or identity, wondering if this is what it feels like to truly be alive.
The most well known dissociative disorder would be Dissociative Identity Disorder [Editors Note: Historically referred to as “Multiple Personality” Disorder], but there are so many other kinds. The DSM hasn’t even recognized the extent of these dissociative disorders because there’s such a lack of research on them. As a result, individuals who struggle with these disorders often do not get the help that they need, or they get mistaken for having some other type of mental disorder. I aim to study these topics in the hopes that one day, we’ll have more tools to treat individuals, like myself, who struggle with dissociative disorders.
F: What are you currently listening to? Reading?
MT: As far as my favorite musicians go, I tend to take interest in musicians with interesting personalities and lives, on top of having solid music. Currently, I’ve been listening to the works of Katie Jane Garside, especially the works of ruby throat and Lalleshwari! I feel like she just has everything that I look for in a femme musician; with her dark, wispy, faerie like voice, juxtaposed with her strange sound that sounds both creepy and entrancing.
I tend to mostly read books about population studies or trauma, but one book I haven’t been able to put down has been the memoir, “Three Little Words” by Ashley Rhodes Courter. The book details the author’s experiences growing up in foster care. It’s an all too common story of a child who gets separated from their family who were unable to take care of them, only to be tossed from foster home to foster home, and one indifferent foster parent to the next, with no sense of real security or consistency in sight. I picked this up because I had just gotten a client at my work who grew up in foster care, and I wanted to learn more about that experience since I didn’t know anyone who grew up in foster care. After reading, it allowed me to approach her with more kindness and patience, and I can better understand her feelings and advocate for her when she cannot advocate for herself. It’s these stories that I believe are so important to learn about, because they can teach us to be kinder to others, along with ourselves.
F: Any closing thoughts/statements before we let you go?
MT: None that I can think of, but thank you so much for taking time to talk with me!
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A most sincere thank you to Mono Theory for sharing so much with us. We know it can be very difficult, as well as triggering, to discuss past, and present, traumas and life experiences. We know there are people out there who will read your experience and feel seen; maybe for the first time in their lives.
For everyone who made it this far, here are some places you can go to get your fill of everything Mono Theory.
Official Website: monotheorymusic.com
Music: monotheory.bandcamp.com
Social: instagram.com/theory_mono