
Sam Kissajukian's new comedy show, "300 Paintings," takes audiences on a hilarious and moving tour of some of that art, which also serves as a journey through his own mental health.
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David Fuerst
You're listening to all of it on WNYC. I'm David Fuerst in for Alison Stewart. In 2021, Australian comedian Sam Kisajukian decided to quit the stand up scene and move into a former industrial cake factory. He also decided he was going to start a new career as a visual artist. Over the course of six months, Sam created more than 300 paintings. What Sam didn't realize at the time was that he was in the midst of a manic state. Later, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Now Sam is combining his comedic and artistic skills in the one man show, 300 paintings at the Vineyard Theater in Manhattan. And over the course of about 90 minutes, Sam walks audiences through a slideshow of his work. And the artwork help Sam tell the story of what was going on with him over those six months, all with a generous sense of humor about the whole thing. Sam still paints, and in addition to seeing his show at the Vineyard, you can also see some of his work on display there. And if you want to check it out during this conversation, you can see some examples on our Instagram. That's llovenyc 300 paintings running at the Vineyard Theater through February 23rd. And Sam Kiseijukin joins us now. Welcome, welcome.
Sam Kisajukian
Thank you.
David Fuerst
David, this all started after you decided to quit standup. Why quit?
Sam Kisajukian
Well, I think quitting is a very important part of life. And I'd been doing standup for 10 years and I'd heard of this thing called finding your voice. I didn't know who I was in my mid-20s, and I always felt that maybe stand up would be the way that I could find myself. You know, you hear that if you find yourself, the audience will respond a certain way. I think everybody wants to feel seen. I think I was trying to do that through stand up, but then after 10 years, I realized that stand up comedy is mostly just a collaboration with drunk people, which is a terrible way to make art because if they don't, you know, if they don't like what you're doing, they get, they heckle or you feel like you're wasting their time. And so I think I just started trying to give them what they wanted and then I Kind of lost my voice. And then I think the. I stopped being myself and I started just really being a comedian. And then I just started hating being on stage and what I'd become. And I felt like the hat of comedy had fused to my head and I didn't know how to untangle. And yeah, I think the only solution was to quit, but that didn't help because I didn't have any other skill sets. And it leaves a massive gap in your soul, in your cv, when you leave behind a passion.
David Fuerst
So we hear some standup comics say that, that they got into standup comedy to work through some issues on stage. Right. But it's tough when the audience is heckling you or something like that. That doesn't seem like it would help you work through any issues.
Sam Kisajukian
No, not at all. I mean, it's not even heckling. It's just, I think if you have empathy like you do, you know, you respect people, they've come out, they're here, you know, maybe they got a babysitter. It's a lot of energy and time and money and so you want to honor why they're there. And sometimes the Venn diagram of what you want and what they want just never overlaps.
David Fuerst
300 paintings. Can I just stop for a moment and focus on that number? That seems incredible.
Sam Kisajukian
I mean, yeah, I've always believed in quantity over quality. You can tell by the name of the show. Yeah, I don't make as many. I still paint as much as possible now. I mean, I've continued the practice. But I think when I quit comedy there was, I kind of like, it was an identity that got, got taken away and you know, I was in my mid-30s, I was broke and I was going to move into a regular house. And then I abandoned that idea and picked the old industrial cake factory and just decided if I just lock myself in here and just. Yeah, I just decided. How I decided to become an artist is very unusual. I was, you know, you should, I think most people, if you go to art school, like, you know, and after you see the show, you think, yes, you should have done that. But yeah, what happened to me is I was unpacking some boxes and I found a beret. And I don't own a beret. A beret?
David Fuerst
Uh huh. Oh yeah, A beret, yeah.
Sam Kisajukian
And I just put it on and I looked in the mirror and just the whole of art history channeled through me.
David Fuerst
Oh, I'm an artist now.
Sam Kisajukian
And I just looked at myself and I was like, you're broke. You're in your mid-30s, all you've done is fail for the last 10 years. You're in an abandoned cake factory. And I also thought it was very funny to become an artist because, like, being a comedian in your mid-30s is actually very sad to your friends and family, but telling your parents that you're quitting comedy to become an artist is objectively funny. So I was amused by it. And I, and I, and I just started painting every day. And what it allowed me to do is have a discourse with myself because I felt like I was before making, creating things in front of people, but then kind of holding back because I was thinking about what they wanted. And for the first time I thought, when I make an artwork then, now the artwork can be the performer and I can be the audience. And so I created this discourse between my subconscious and conscious mind. And so it just allowed me to express the whole back catalogue of ideas inside me that had been dormant over the last 36 years.
David Fuerst
It's almost like you're with the audience as one of their, as one of their chosen critics when you're talking about and looking at one of your paintings on stage.
Sam Kisajukian
Yes, sometimes, yes.
David Fuerst
I mean, it's a fascinating transition, right, Going from stand up comedy to a career as a visual artist. But you also say that there's a certain shame around deciding to be an artist.
Sam Kisajukian
What do you mean by that? Shame?
David Fuerst
Is, is, is that how you, you've put it?
Sam Kisajukian
I don't think of it as a shame as. You mean being a visual artist? Yeah.
David Fuerst
Choosing that as a career.
Sam Kisajukian
Choosing that as a career. I mean, I don't, I don't think so. Maybe, I don't know.
Ira Flatow
I don't.
David Fuerst
Let me just personally say I don't feel that way.
Sam Kisajukian
No, I mean, as a career. Yeah, I mean, I don't, I don't think of it as career. Like, honestly, I try my very hardest not to like, identify as being an artist. I think even you identify as any kind of profession, then you're, you start to become very aware of the, the rules of what you should do for that career. And, and I even think about it now like, you know, the show that I do deals with very, you know, serious issues, but I do employ a lot of comedy. Like, you know, I, I, I think comedy is an amazing vehicle, almost like a Trojan horse to kind of keep people laughing and then you can kind of feed more difficult ideas that might raise people's barriers. And, and I think the same way with painting. Like, I just think of as A communication channel. And for me, pairing visual art and verbal communication, I think, and superimposing them allows you to be more specific when talking about very kind of ineffable ideas around mental illness. And so when you say they're a shame, I don't know, I mean, everybody just does what they do. And I think really every artist is different. I might joke about those kind of things, but yeah, I, I, I love artists.
David Fuerst
Well, you're talking about some very painful moments in your life, right in this show. Not shying away from anything. This show invites people to laugh at parts of your mental illness. At one point you explicitly tell people it's okay to laugh. How does that feel to make people laugh at such a vulnerable part of you?
Sam Kisajukian
Well, for me as much as the show is my story, you know, and I, and I was so specific, like especially the, I'd quit performing for a year and the only reason I came back to it is I got invited to do a show and I didn't want to do my stand up comedy comedy material from a year ago. And I'd just been put on medication and because of the six month manic episode, my memory was very damaged and really. Yeah, and my ability to think quickly was kind of stunted for a while. And so just out of necessity, I felt like anytime I explained to people any part of what happened during the manic episode, they, because they don't have, you know, the logic of what happened before, they just thought I made it up. And so I thought I wanted to tell that story. And I just invited all the people that I'd spoken to during that time that didn't understand and, and I put the images, I just went through the paintings chronologically and it allowed me to kind of explain to people the inside of what I went through. And I thought it was so specific, but weirdly it, people connected with very different parts. And so I think like, you know, a little bit it's, it's gotten to the point where like idiosity, I am sharing my story, but I think like I just try and put as much information, like the goal of the show is to show people as intimately how I think. And what I've realized is people relate to very specific, different parts. And I think it kind of honors the parts that we have inside that, you know, I think the most important thing in life really is to feel seen. And you think in your life how many people truly see you? It's probably only a handful. And of that maybe only parts. And so I think the show honors like these parts of ourselves that are.
David Fuerst
Need to feel seen. And it sounds like the show really grew very organically, very organically from you having these conversations with people who were maybe confused about what was going on during that time, maybe even explaining it to yourself as you're talking about some memory issues and you using these paintings as guideposts along the way.
Sam Kisajukian
Yeah, definitely. I mean, I was very lucky, you know, people being in a manic episode, you know, you don't have the best memory afterwards, and it kind of feels like this other person did this thing to you. And the fact that I painted every day is I unconsciously kind of documented my mental states, and so it's really helped allow me to, like, reassess that with a lot of clear memory. And so, yeah, I find it incredibly helpful.
David Fuerst
Yeah, well, at one point during that time, you started to mess with your own sleep schedule, right. To pull yourself deeper into this creative process, perhaps. How did that affect you creatively but also physically?
Sam Kisajukian
Well, that's what triggered the manic episode. And I think when I'd started painting for a few weeks, I just thought, I don't want to. You know, I felt like once I start showing my art to people, I. I'm gonna face the same problem that I did with comedy, because in comedy, I just kind of wanted to give people what they wanted. And then I lost who I was, and then I hated comedy, and I quit. And I thought, that's gonna happen with art. And so I felt, you know, how do I make the most me thing that's independent of the ideas of good or bad? And I thought, I'm gonna paint my subconscious. And so I thought, I'll paint my dreams, but I don't remember my dreams. So I thought, how do you remember your dreams? And I started flipping my sleep 12 hours. So I'd go to bed at midnight, two days later to go to bed at midday, back and forth.
David Fuerst
Were you hoping to achieve some sort of dream state where you were just living these dreams?
Sam Kisajukian
Well, I think it was just. I was trying to create the. The. The waking sleep, so, like a lucid dream so I could watch my dreams. And then when I was awake, I could dream in my mind, open my eyes, and it would flash on the surface, and I would paint that. And then at night, I'd watch my dreams and started incorporating what had happened during that day into the dream.
David Fuerst
What goes through your mind when you look at these paintings now?
Sam Kisajukian
I mean, it's very helpful for me because I think it's especially With Bipolar, I find it hard to feel seen when I'm on stage because the audience can only ever see me in the state that I'm in. And then the other two states of the depressive episodes I go through and the manic episodes, like, I've been in them so many times in my life that they are very familiar to me. They almost feel like a different Persona. And I think, like, now I just honor all three states like they are all part of me. And so performance is limiting. Very helpful. But the audience can only see me in my state. But because I paint across all different states, the. The paintings allow me to kind of show both myself and people Seeing. Seeing the show, the exhibition. This is who I am across time. And so that's the only way that I can show people the totality of myself. But it always starts with me. I can see myself, and it helps me integrate these different versions of me into one vessel.
David Fuerst
Wow. I mean, do the paintings ever take a dark turn?
Sam Kisajukian
Sometimes they do, yeah. I think they. They. They used to more, I think. I mean, maybe I cleared a lot of that tension within it. I mean, I just allow it to do any. Go anywhere. So, like, my process of painting is I paint very quickly. I try, and I paint quite large works. They're usually around 6 to 8ft in height by about 4 to 7ft in width. And I try and do it in a day. And the goal is that I will make a mark. It's very abstract expressionist. I'll make a mark, and then I will emotionally respond to that mark, and it will build up. And so I feel like your. Your history is stored in your nervous system. And so how you respond to certain colors and shapes is influenced by that, and your conscious mind doesn't have access to it. So I feel like by doing this process, I'm kind of transcribing my emotional state on that day. That allows me to then, after the fact, to consciously recognize what was actually happening. And then I have an understanding. So it's like when you see a photo of yourself when you're 20 years old and you see the fashion you were wearing, you can see all your insecurities. You need time and distance from that. And the paintings give me that.
David Fuerst
I mean, sometimes I look at those old pictures, I'm like, who is that person?
Sam Kisajukian
Exactly.
David Fuerst
We're speaking with Australian comedian Sam Kisajukian, a comedian and painter and lots of other things. And the name of your new show, I have to make sure that I say the name of it correctly. It's happening at the vineyard. It's called 300 Paintings. I still can't believe it's 300 in that time. How did the people in your life react to this period of huge artistic output? Did they view this as a wonderful thing, or did they feel like, wow, we need to reach out?
Sam Kisajukian
How did they respond after seeing the show? Or do you just mean in general.
David Fuerst
Just during the period when you were creating so much work, this 300 paintings?
Sam Kisajukian
Well, I was very private about it. I wasn't really seeing people during that time. It was an intense period of self isolation. And so I think a lot of people didn't know. And I think that the kind of things people knew about was that if they'd speak to me over the phone, they'd. I think they knew. They were like, wow, Sam's speaking very quickly. And they'd tell me things. They're like, hey, Sam, I think you need to slow down. And I'd be like, I think you need to speed up. And I'd hang up. And so I think people were mostly worried. And it was only after the fact that I started showing the art.
David Fuerst
Did you feel like in those moments that you were not okay, or did you have a moment where you felt like, whoa, I do need to slow down. I need to check on myself.
Sam Kisajukian
I never felt I needed to slow down.
David Fuerst
Interesting.
Sam Kisajukian
I think when you're. When you. When you have bipolar and, I mean, and you experience depressive episodes, you. You remember that you can function really well. And so there is this kind of. You miss the mania. And even though I didn't know I had bipolar, but just suddenly I could start thinking very quickly. And I was very. I was like, this can't be bad. I'm going through a creative enlightenment. Like, if this is bad, then how am I able to make all these paintings and build out all these new ideas? And I went through a whole phase, whereas I was inventing things. And so I just followed it until maybe in the later stages, I started to think, you know, where does this go? Like, can your mind just get faster and faster and faster? And I think I thought maybe it would end badly. But then I felt, if I make so much work, like a lifetime body of work, then at least, you know, something will come of it. And they'll say, people, we will go, oh, that was bad. But look what he made.
David Fuerst
You can be seen leave something physical behind.
Sam Kisajukian
I think in mania, you know, it's. No one will ever understand the internal mechanisms to have physical objects from that period is, you Know, I felt like it was a trade off that some benefit.
David Fuerst
Wow. How did you feel when you finally got a bipolar diagnosis?
Sam Kisajukian
It was very. It was scary. I felt I'd been labeled crazy. And that is, I thought it would define me, but it hasn't been the case. You know, it gives me like an additional viewpoint. Now I can see the world from my perspective or the diagnostic lens of bipolar and can make a collaborative decision. It allows me to look after my mental health. You know, I can just. Even just knowing I have bipolar allows me to kind of prevent myself doing things that will make me manic. And because I don't get as manic, I don't get as depressed. And because I don't get as depressed, it was actually the depression that would cause the mania because I know I can function and then I'd be in the depression, I'd want to get out of it. So I do things like not sleep. And so just that knowledge alone has allowed me to kind of exist in the middle and be more consistent. And I think, like, honestly, obviously both my mental health and then also my ability to perform and create has been like, really enhanced since then. So I feel very grateful it was enhanced.
David Fuerst
It was not difficult to re enter the world after that. It was. It was. Or was it? At first.
Sam Kisajukian
I think at first, like, it probably took about two years, you know, to properly get to a point of recovery. And, you know, I think it has permanently affected my mind and my physical health. But I think the benefits of just being in a kind of more centered state has been very helpful. I think it doesn't. It doesn't affect the creativity. Like obviously you can because you're painting now. Yeah, I mean, I paint while I'm doing the show. They've given me the green room to paint. And then over the Christmas break, I couldn't go back to Australia because of my visa. And so for that month, the vineyard gave me a painting studio, which I produced a bunch more work for this one. But I think having gone through so much mania and depression, they almost are like different personalities that have their own, like, viewpoint and lens. And so I think, like, empathetically, whenever I'm making a work, I now have three different viewpoints that I can draw upon so I can paint and then switch to how I would see it in a depressed state or a manic state. And I think, like, having multiple perspectives can be very helpful for creativity.
David Fuerst
What do you, if any, what impact do you think the pandemic may have had on your mental state? During that time, you don't tell talk about it necessarily in the show. But this, the painting that you did happened in 2021, is that right?
Sam Kisajukian
Yeah, in June. So that's when Covid ended. It really started tailing off in Australia. So Australia wasn't. We could move around quite a lot and people were kind of existing back in the world. And that's kind of where I just committed to isolation. I think, like more than that, I think post Covid, I think this show works better post covert because I think anyone with underlying mental health issues, I think Covid and that isolation really brought it to the surface and, and so it's put a huge strain on, you know, the mental health industry and psychiatrists and, and so I think this show has found more of an audience because people are like ready to have that conversation.
David Fuerst
It's great that to have that audience and to be seen. I think it's really exciting that you, we talked, we started this conversation talking about you quitting stand up comedy. But here you are returning to the stage doing this very cool show.
Sam Kisajukian
Yeah, I feel very grateful.
David Fuerst
Do you feel, is that right now, how has the audience responded to the show and to your painting?
Sam Kisajukian
I mean, I think in Australia we're very funny. I think Australians are very, very funny. But there's a difference. We don't say what we mean, we imply what we, what we're not saying. And in New York, I think people are very direct and they, they really say what they mean. And I also think that New York is like when I put up the bipolar traits of a manic episode. I always say that you could probably replace these, the, the title bipolar with living in New York. I feel like this, this city oppresses people and, and I think it like it's so full of people come here with like an idea and ego and it just beats you down and builds you back up and you have so many identity changes.
David Fuerst
Well, I'm sorry, we have to wrap up, but comedian Sam Kisijukian, your one man show, living in New York. No, sorry. 300 paintings is happening at the Vineyard Theater in Manhattan. Sam, thank you so much for joining us.
Sam Kisajukian
Thank you so much. David.
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Podcast Information:
David Fuerst introduces Sam Kisajukian, highlighting Sam's significant career shift from stand-up comedy to visual arts. In 2021, after a decade in the comedy scene, Sam moved into an abandoned industrial cake factory to embark on a new artistic venture, resulting in the creation of over 300 paintings in six months during a manic episode. This period led to his diagnosis with bipolar disorder.
[00:37] David Fuerst: "In 2021, Australian comedian Sam Kisajukian decided to quit the stand-up scene and move into a former industrial cake factory. He also decided he was going to start a new career as a visual artist."
Sam delves into his reasons for leaving stand-up comedy, emphasizing the struggle to maintain his authentic voice while catering to audience expectations. Over ten years, Sam felt he lost himself by merely performing as a comedian, leading to his decision to quit and explore a more genuine form of self-expression through painting.
[02:05] Sam Kisajukian: "I always felt that maybe stand up would be the way that I could find myself... I stopped being myself and I started just really being a comedian."
Key Points:
The monumental task of creating 300 paintings in six months was both a product of Sam's manic state and a method of self-discovery. Sam adopted a philosophy of "quantity over quality" during this period, believing that producing a vast body of work would help him document and understand his mental state.
[03:53] David Fuerst: "300 paintings. Can I just stop for a moment and focus on that number? That seems incredible."
[04:55] Sam Kisajukian: "I just started painting every day. And what it allowed me to do is have a discourse with myself because I felt like I was before making, creating things in front of people..."
Key Points:
Sam candidly discusses his manic episode and subsequent bipolar diagnosis. He explains how his creative process during the manic phase was both a form of expression and a means to cope with his mental health challenges. The diagnosis provided him with a framework to understand his experiences and manage his mental health more effectively.
[17:09] Sam Kisajukian: "It was very scary. I felt I'd been labeled crazy... Now I can look after my mental health... both my mental health and then also my ability to perform and create has been like, really enhanced since then."
Key Points:
Sam's one-man show at the Vineyard Theater in Manhattan showcases his 300 paintings alongside his comedic narration. The show serves as a narrative journey through his manic phase, using visual art to convey the complexities of his mental state with humor and vulnerability.
[08:09] Sam Kisajukian: "...the goal of the show is to show people as intimately how I think... The paintings allow me to kind of show both myself and people seeing..."
Key Points:
Sam reflects on the diverse responses from audiences, noting how different people connect with various aspects of his work. The show has resonated especially in the post-COVID era, where discussions around mental health have become more prominent.
[20:42] Sam Kisajukian: "...And so I think this show honors like these parts of ourselves that are..."
Key Points:
In concluding the conversation, Sam expresses gratitude for his journey and the opportunity to share his story through art. He highlights the importance of feeling seen and the therapeutic value of creative expression in understanding oneself.
[13:11] Sam Kisajukian: "...the paintings allow me to kind of show both myself and people seeing... And the show honors like these parts of ourselves that are."
Key Points:
"300 Paintings" with Sam Kisajukian is a compelling exploration of creativity, mental health, and personal transformation. Through his prolific artistic output and candid storytelling, Sam offers listeners a profound insight into the interplay between artistic expression and mental well-being. The show not only highlights the challenges of living with bipolar disorder but also celebrates the resilience and depth of the human spirit in the face of adversity.
Notable Quotes with Timestamps: