An Epistolary Interview with FIN


4. Rebecca Fin Simonetti. The Last Judgement 5

Forgoing the traditional, as is her custom, Fin requested that the classic interview be circumvented in place of a series of questions posed by several people who have been with her in various capacities over the years.


Dear Fin,

In my very early twenties, I escaped to Nelson, a mountain-hugged town in British Columbia. It was tiny and beautiful. Rumour had it that the surrounding mountains were laden with purple amethyst, a stone believed to be heavy with magnetic pull. They said the crystal lured people to town — a population of settled wanderers and migrant artists — most of whom would eventually move out and on. But the magnetic mountains remain, drawing them in and breathing them out again.

You are like that mountain: slowly changing with the weather, sculpted by the years, always drawing people in. You are a force. I have watched you change in the eight years we’ve known each other. Your magnetism hasn’t changed; it probably never will. You welcome people in with your art, your music and your person. To meet you is to know you. You hide very little.

Vulnerability is part of your artistry, and your music and visual art practice are an expression of that. Listening to the songs on your new album, your whispers drew me in, while the melancholy symphony held me, and the beat carried me to the end. Your visual work is haunting in its digression towards and then away from innocence. You maintain a wonderful dedication to balance in all that you create; soft to hard, “feminine” to “masculine,” erotic to prosaic. What I love most about your work is that you never try to guide. There is no hand holding here. The witness must figure it own on their own.  “It’s taken a long time to get here,” you sing. Mountains aren’t formed overnight.
– Vanessa Runions


Così e Così asks:
Can you describe the relationship between your visual art and your music?  Do the themes in your visual art extend into your music as well?”

Dear Mark,
Ideas pass from one medium to another, like cross-pollination. There are certain ideas/aesthetics I’m interested in, or a particular vision I have, and I apply that to whatever is in front of me, but it’s all an expression of the same vision or internal process.


Devon Welsh (of Majical Cloudz) asks:
Do you ever feel nostalgic about a certain way you used to relate to music, which can no longer be recovered?

Dear Devon,
I remember as a kid it was much easier for me to feel ecstasy/euphoria when listening to music.  I do still experience that sort of transcendence as an adult, but it is much more rare and difficult.


Molly Soda asks:
“Tell me about the most recent dream you can remember having!”

Dear Molly,
I looked inside my vagina and it was a fractal kaleidoscope.


SCHWARZ (Adam Schwarz) asks:
I hear some references to, like, mid-2000s r&b in your music.  Is that an influence/what is your relationship with that stuff?”

Dear Schwarz,
Late 90s to mid-2000s R&B is definitely an influence. There is a particular emotional tenor that is a little bit sad but also sexy; it’s sincere and intense, over a low BPM. I connect with that.


FlucT (performance duo Sigrid Lauren and Monica Mirable) ask:
When you wake up from a nap, do your dreams ever tell you what the future female looks like conceptually?

Dear FlucT,
Recently, I learned about a disorder that fuses the vertebras of your spine together. In the future female, the left and right hemispheres of the brain will fuse into a seamless organ. This process will be painful, but will set a new precedent for consciousness.


Jane Penny (of TOPS) asks:
“Of all the art forms that you work in–whether you are making song, a drawing, a harness, etc.– which makes you consider your body most acutely?”

Dear Jane,
When I am performing and making sculpture, my body is fully activated. In a lot of the other mediums I work in, I completely forget my body…it’s like being hypnotized by a book, and when you stop reading you have to come back into your body, similar to the derealization you experience when coming out of a movie theatre. Even though harnesses are for a body, the process of making them is very automatic, like putting together a puzzle.


FIN_Revelation copy55sat16

Travis Egedy (PICTUREPLANE) asks:
“What is your favorite smell and why?”

Dear Travis,
I like the smell of pugs feet, because they smell like popcorn.


Geoffrey Pugen (visual artist and director of Centre Island) asks:
I like to think of my videos as sculptures that have some kind surface and body. When I think of your sound work, I imagine that technology is somehow alive in your sound and has its own voice. What do you think about when you create these tones and samples and what is your relationship to the gear you use?

Dear Geoff,
When I’m making music, I imagine I’m creating a new species of animal: it needs a skeleton, lungs, a heart, blood, teeth, guts…I try to make mine tender but also ferocious. That dichotomy is important. Like in my sculptural work–I want to invoke empathy and alienation simultaneously. I always want it to surprise me.


Airick Woodhead (Doldrums) asks:
“What is your idea of the afterlife???”

Dear Airick,
I really don’t know, but I’d like to think it’s sort of pale orange and shimmery.


 Mostofsky (neuroscientist and owner of Ehse Records) asks:
One of the most difficult things when creating a piece of art can be deciding when it is complete. How do you, as a musician and an artist, both use and diffuse obsessive tendencies in creating and completing an artistic piece?

Dear Stew,
Obsessive tendencies can be very functional–I use mine to make hyper-detailed drawings and sculpture. Being totally consumed by your work is a very beautiful thing, but it can be hard to let go.The risk is that you can polish the essence or magic out of a piece by over-working it. I try to look and listen for when something has everything it needs, which is my cue to move on. Checking in with people I trust aesthetically is very helpful; Schwarz and Airick are my musical confidants.


Bill DeLelles (of Chrome Sparks) asks:
“What’s unnecessary?”

Dear Bill,