.aesthetic talk
Scarry Stories
* A Glimpse into yeule's Universe
written & interview Hannah Rose Prendergast
In the lifespan of a scar, it takes anywhere from three months to two years for it to soften. It’s not a sore subject for Nat Ćmiel or their alter ego, yeule. Born in heavily surveilled Singapore before moving to London to become a fine arts kid at CSM, the zillennial painter-musician-performer has a lot to say. softscars (2023), yeule’s third studio album, takes the listener on a glitch-pop journey that’s cyber meat for the soul.
We talk over Zoom, where they sit in the passenger seat of their car, “traversing the mist” in LA traffic. It’s a hectic time as they’re preparing to shoot the music video for ghosts. In the backseat, their troupe of stuffed animals is listening intently.
Hannah Rose Prendergast //
When people describe you and your work, an overflow of adjectives comes to mind. As someone who identifies as non-binary, what are your frustrations with the labels attributed to you?
yeule //
As human beings, we need to label things to understand them. In my non-binary experience, it’s not just something worth saying we are. It’s more like I identify as everything; I identify as nothing. I don’t just identify as a woman or a man. I can be in between, or I can be both. It doesn’t bother me when someone uses “she/her” pronouns (instead of “she/they”). I’m very femme-passing most days. The biggest misconception of people who are NB’s (non-binary) is that we find it offensive, but it’s really about other people trying to understand it rather than doing it over and over again. [It’s about] being extremely loving towards these kinds of conversations to do with identity. Like, I see you. I feel you. You’re valid.
There’s a lot of misunderstanding, but people are learning. There’s much more loving energy in your community of people who understand and see you. It’s who you surround yourself by. It’s not always about changing people’s minds. Acceptance is one thing, but it’s also about letting go of the ignorance that prevents you from respecting those who have struggled with gender dysphoria, body image, etc. I didn’t even think gender dysphoria was a thing until I met NB’s — that’s when I found my people. I always felt really safe around them because I felt understood. I think it’s important to protect your space and not be affected by labels created like that.
How would you describe yourself?
In 2021, I had a huge identity crisis. I was becoming a minimalist for a bit. I had to try it out because I’ve always surrounded myself with objects and things I love. Once I stripped all that away, I had an ego death. I could see who I wasn’t and who I was. It was really freaky, and I don’t want to go through it again. I think having an ego is okay; it’s very human. It’s about how you navigate that ego with people. I don’t know how I would describe myself. I’m like a volatile black hole that absorbs things through my lens. I take things I like and hold on to them; their alchemy becomes me.
How is softscars (2023) a natural progression from your last project, Glitch Princess (2022)?
Glitch Princess was all about accepting chaos within digital error. I found out a lot about myself as a perfectionist. It was all about not being able to autotune things, noise clipping, CPO loading. I just exported everything. softscars is similar in bringing it out into the bodily realm. Thinking about scars in a metaphorical way, but also scars on your body, whether it’s from self-harm or surgery. One of my friends recently had top surgery, and they looked so beautiful, showing off their scars.
I call each page in my journal a scar entry. I’ve been doing that for three years. That’s when I became semantically obsessed with the word scars. A scar entry is about a moment that changed me. A lot of songs I was writing came from those scar entries.
We try to cover up scars. We stitch things up so it doesn’t leave a big mark. We slather ourselves in cream so we don’t age. I think it’s important to understand that we’re all going through life, and that’s what makes it a unique experience. Ugliness can be so beautiful, looking taboo, being unconventional — It’ll discriminate against you in some places, but you’ll find new people.
artist talk
yeule
speaks with
Hannah Rose Prendergast
first published
Issue No. 35, 02/2023
Which softscars track was the most challenging to make?
Technically, dazies. The time signature on that. Kin Leonn, my exec producer, and I recorded a bit of that at Abbey Road. There were so many revisions to it because I wanted to change the way I was singing. I wanted to sound closer to the live version, something in the low, low register. There’s an unreleased track, Are You Real?, that I couldn’t finish because every time I listened to it, I’d get triggered and start crying. It was too upsetting.
Feeling detached from reality can sometimes be dangerous; on the other hand, there’s a level of escapism that is healthy and necessary to the creative process — your music touches on that duality. How can you tell when an escape stops being safe?
When I started high school, I was hikikomori (socially removed from society.) I didn’t even leave my room. That really hurt me, but it made me feel so safe and detached from reality. The internet was a form of escape for me, but how I used it was wrong. I was creating this fake world by myself. It was inspiring, but I was in my head to the point where I was imagining things beyond comprehension. I’m a whole different person online, like a whole different persona. It’s not about being inauthentic but showing a part of myself that I repress. I see this anger and dark side to me sometimes when playing games.
Dissociation was a huge hobby of mine in 2021. It got so bad that I’d dissociate while doing something important, and it would get dangerous. My body was shutting down because everything was too overwhelming. I didn’t have the tools to handle strong emotions. I recommend CBT (cognitive-behavioral therapy) or DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) to anyone with BPD (borderline personality disorder) or OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) — two things I struggle with.
Knowing that you’re tapping out is a scary thing. At this point in my life, I was just waking up and doing the motions. It took me so long to learn how to feed myself properly. Eating has been such a huge topic of conversation in my music. It’s still so silenced. The Barbie film didn’t even talk about it.
It’s a very dissociative act, the rituals we have when we’re in our heads. Sometimes on stage, I’m even dissociating, and I feel like most of my fans are also dissociating. It’s like one big dissociation party. This is a safe space, dissociate all you want, bestie.
Last Spring, you unveiled (n)secure at London’s Southbank Centre. Do you have any plans for your next installation? What would you like to create?
I’m exploring more set design and incorporating installations into my live shows. I want to do more galleries, but I'm a performer at the end of the day. I like to showcase that when I’m performing. I used to do a lot of sonic installations. I played around with code and built this room in the studio. (n)secure was the full-fleshed version of it.
team credits
seen Catharina Pavitschitz
styled Marianthi Hatzikidi
talent yeule
hair Man Wigs
assistants
photo Svetlana Igorievna
style Heeya Shewani
dress Seli Corsi