The Artistic Philosophy & Origins of Jaina Cipriano: An Autobiographical Essay

Introduction by Michael Athanasius Hanna, Curator & Editor of Aedra Fine Arts Publishing.

I asked Jaina Cipriano, who might be my most favorite artist in the entire AFA Catalogue (which contains almost 300 established artists to date), if she could provide me with a brief 400 word statement about her artistic philosophy and how her experiences influenced her art. Initially, I was going to write a biography on Jaina, but her words were so engaging I decided to post the entire essay in full, with some light editing made by me. Jaina is a multifaceted artist as a photographer, filmmaker, writer, actor, and set designer. She handcrafts custom-designed sets and props to use in her films and unedited photography with a non-linear storyline fusing the macabre, mania, the strange, as well as elements of serenity into lucid grand works on a scale not seen since Pink Floyd’s 1982 film The Wall or David Lynch’s Blue Velvet released in 1986. Jaina’s work contains a unique mode of visual storytelling which blends innocence with despair as well as absurdity combined with her conceptually provocative visuals. blends innocence with despair as well as absurdity combined with her conceptually provocative visuals. Without further ado, I will reintroduce our readers to Jaina Cipriano, an artist who is a master of atmospheric tension and suspense: 

Jaina Cipriano in her own words on her artistic philosophy and how experiences have had an impact on her art:

I can’t remember a time when I was not thinking about photographs. My parents kept family photos in soggy cardboard boxes deep in the bowels of the basement. You would find me there as a child, bare bulk swinging over my head, as I poured through the box over and over. In second grade, when other kids were bringing in bey-blade and pokemon cards, I took my favorite photos to school. I brought them out at lunch, pointing at details and explaining why I loved them. The real world moved too fast for me. I like being able to study life in stills, quieting my anxiety, making me feel better.

I was a superstitious child and relied on rituals to keep me grounded. I worried a lot, mostly about losing the ones I loved. Taking photographs quickly became a way for me to show my love. And to feel some control over the passage of time.

I started photographing at 9. I was relentless. The medium became my defining feature - “the girl with the camera” - and it would remain that way. Through my teenage years the camera was a safety net. Something to do at a party. A way to meet friends. Something to do to pass the time. I documented my life ceaselessly. I could feel how fast it was moving, even then, and I wanted to capture experiences. I’ve also kept meticulous journals alongside my photographic adventures. I keep these records for myself.

In 2016 I was 24 and isolated. In a desperate attempt to heal myself from a handful of undiagnosed chronic conditions I stumbled into a dangerous romantic relationship with the only person who believed me. My life became singular and there was nothing happening to photograph. So I began to make things happen.

Immersion was a monthly themed party in my tiny Cambridge apartment for women who wanted to be in front of or behind the camera. I baked 4ft tall cakes, made black-light rope spider webs, and filled a room to my chest with balloons. These nights were messy, exuberant and community driven. Designed and lit as a 360 degree set, everyone was free to explore and photographs happened organically. I had never imagined I would like building spaces but I was hooked.

I moved back home with my parents and the parties had no home anymore. I started designing spaces in my parents basement and bringing models into them, one at a time. Each strange and immersive set, bathed in colorful hot lights - a bright oasis in a dark basement - was a small, individual wonderland.

Before stepping in the set I shared stories with the models, told them “this is your backstory, but now, you can do whatever you want.”

These spaces were magic. I relocated myself inside them. I healed from my dangerous relationship. I saw my own feelings and fears mirrored in my models as they moved through the sets. And once the house lights came on, sitting on my dusty basement couches, the models would often tell me the same thing. I had found a way to create a catharsis and the feeling was wonderful.

My process has grown organically, just as the spaces did. The spaces I create now are bigger and more intentional than they were when I started but they are still all built off intuition. I am taking an emotion I have felt and expressing the notion onto a location. They are the landscapes of my mind.

I still carry a camera with me wherever I go. There is so much to see. The work I do, with my collection of 35mm point and shoot cameras is like a study for the built worlds. I am tracking emotions, movement and light in the real world. I develop, print and study them and bring what I’ve captured with me into the studio.

Once I began building spaces and taking photographs in them, the next natural thought was to make those pictures move. I was going to make a film. I made dozens of little films as a child - a TV series where my best friend and I played spies, recreations of superhero movie scenes with my brother. I remember editing slime into video clips with my Digital Blue footage (so 90’s.)

Writing screenplays proved to be intuitive to me, unlike prose which I had been pursuing my entire life with nothing to show for it. The task was much easier to take an idea or an emotion and visualize the process on the screen.

In the photography world you are taught to be your own lighting team, editing team, the director

- everything. Something incredible happens when you begin work on a film, you get to settle into a niche. I’ve found incredible solace in that - I love being able to sink so deeply into a story.

Photos, sometimes, are over within a day - from conception to completion. With a film, I get to live in the world I have created for years. A very different approach and I love the fact my practice can include both of them.

I often am struck with the thought that my photos are not the end game but just the easiest. I love being in - and bringing people in - to these fabricated spaces I create. But the logistics to that - time, space, money - are complex and inhibitive. Creating a photo that I can share widely and have complete control over is just easier.

In 2024 I was the recipient of a New England Foundation of the Arts Public Art Learning Fund grant which I have been using to consult with Odyssey Works, an immersive design company in NYC. With Abrahamas expertise and guidance I have begun devising my first, official, public facing immersive experience called What Are You Afraid Of?

What Are You Afraid Of? is an immersive, one-on-one experience designed to help participants confront and transform their fears through interactive rituals and symbolic actions. Upon entering a dimly lit, unsettling waiting room, participants are introduced to a series of provocative tasks, such as retrieving a coin from a sticky coin growing farm, writing down their deepest fears, and transferring them into a glass jar of sand. In the final room, a guide invites participants to perform a ritual to baptize a rock in water, symbolizing the transformation of their fear. Through this tactile, emotional journey, the project uses unconventional objects, spaces, and technology to create a deeply personal, transformative experience that moves beyond passive observation, inviting participants to engage with and release their anxieties in a tangible way.

I am trying to bring that catharsis I created way back in my parents basement into the world.

At my practice's core, I am a personal storyteller. I use many mediums to bring these stories into the world. When I was young I did not see my own strange and complex experiences represented in the media often, but when I did, the mirror allowed me so much comfort and growth. I share my stories so others can feel seen, connected and know healing, change and comfort are always possible.

My process values radical vulnerability and complete surrender to the process. In my shop I keep on my whiteboard a reminder - if I cannot be fearless in the world, I will be fearless in my art.

https://www.jainaciprianophotography.com