MUAs Deconstructed

05/08/20

by Ariel Zetina

LumpenRadio_5920_1.jpg

Tonight at 8pm on twitch.tv/lumpenradio sound artist and DJ Ariel Zetina offers a live ambient set of recent EP MUA's at the End of the World articulating the comfort and complexity of being separated from public life and the application of make-up as armor, barrier, stealth, and as a mode of passing for transwomen. Nightclub Cocoon, a companion text piece, reimagines the ambient set for the page pulling from themes and lyrics found on the EP.

* * * *

Nightclub Cocoon

Rehearsing through the steps 

of my makeup routine with no product.

Rub my face across the surface area.

Run my finger where the light creates

a shadow. Accentuate that shadow

on the chin, on the nose. Blot the face

with three fingers across the surface area, 

blot the apples of the cheeks

with three fingers, pink from the blood

rushing from the former blot. 

Blot the eyelids. Run the finger down

the lash line, over the brows. 

Push up where they change direction.

Move the first third of the finger 

lightly across the lashes. Slap the face

with imaginary powder repeatedly.

This is the application of my makeup

without the product, without the tools. 

A moth builds a cocoon from dead leaves.

It isn’t part of her, but according to the world, 

she is the cocoon, inside of herself.  

The world thinks the cocoon is stagnant 

but what is more forward moving than a cocoon? 

Rest activated.

It is a pleasure to not leave the house.

To execute these actions of application 

on myself forms an invisible cocoon

but the thing about invisibility

is that you can’t see it.  

So I put on makeup real and alive 

with martini hands while streaming a deejay set.

In moments where the internet is a forest,

all eyes on me, the invisible cocoon 

provides armor but not stealth.

I have worked hard to weave my cocoon 

of liquid foundation and twigs 

plus the daily meditation, the sixteen 

yoga postures of makeup application, 

each connected to breath.

The outside world is talons. 

I ride my artificial fur wings toward the moon

but there are other moons: lampposts and sunlamps 

and fluorescence. When I’m entranced 

a child harpy pierces the cocoon

with his talons, or perhaps it’s the child

forgetting that the cocoon is A Her, alive,

that she is made of leaves and twigs, 

but the thing is plants move and travel 

even though they appear stationary. 

Rest activated. 

I moth towards the light, knowing I’ll get hurt. 

Cocoon fur coat, unfurl in the club, 

wings in the club, heels in the nightclub, 

what I’m dreaming about in my exclusive nightclub cocoon.


Ariel Zetina worked on this piece with Christy LeMaster, the Quarantine Times Friday editor. Each week, Christy selects a Chicagoan to share a commissioned creative response to the pandemic.

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